90 
black, and more like a monkey’s paws than 
a woman’s hands, though they never take 
off their gloves, not even to eat or to sleep. 
These gloves, to be sure, are not of the per- 
fumed kind, nor like Martial’s; but muffles 
of deer skin, the fur outside, with nothing 
but a thumb and a sort of bag for the fin- 
gers. Their gowns are of the same mate- 
rial, and their head-dress like the hoods of 
the Canons of Notre Dame. They are 
only two feet and a half high, with high 
shoulders, chicken breasts, large splay feet, 
and always booted. They are all nymphs 
and naiads, nevertheless, if hunting and 
fishing, their sole occupations, entitle them 
to that appellation,” &c. 
Till Mazarin’s death, he seems to have 
acted as a sort of private secretary, and 
when Louis took the government into his 
own hands, he enjoyed under that monarch 
many of the privileges of a favourite; but 
at the end of two years, for some reason or 
other—he refuses himself to give any hint 
of it—he was suddenly disgraced, and threw 
himself, apparently for refuge, into some 
religious institution. After a time, he 
escaped into Germany, but returning again 
to France, he was finally shut up, and con- 
fined, apparently as a madman, for twenty 
years, at St. Lazare, and other abbayes, 
where, under similar pretences, by the order 
or agency of government, many others ap- 
pear to have been immured. To beguile 
the hours of solitude, these memoirs, it 
seems, were written. They betray no par- 
ticular discontent—and consist chiefly of 
gossip relative to the members of the court. 
Richelieu and Mazarin are the chief figu- 
ranti of the scene. Of Richelieu he him- 
self, of course, could know nothing—he 
was a child when the cardinal died, but his 
father held office under him during the 
whole of his administration, and Richelieu 
must naturally have been the frequent topic 
of family conversation. 
The old story is repeatedly alluded to, of 
Richelieu’s passion for the queen; and an 
anecdote is very circumstantially told of his 
dancing before her. She was, it seems, 
full of frolic, and once she and her confi- 
dante, Mad. de Chevreuse, chatting about 
the cardinal’s folly, Cheyreuse suddenly 
said—I know I can make him do any thing 
to please you—will you see him dance ? 
For the fun’s sake, the queen consented— 
the communication was forthwith made— 
the cardinal fell into the trap—and pre- 
sented himself to the queen in full costume, 
with silver bells at his garters, and casta- 
nets in his hands, to dance a sarabande. 
‘The musicians and the ladies were placed 
behind a screen, and laughed aloud at the 
ridiculous attitudes of the cardinal, “and no 
wonder,”’ says De Brienne, “ since, though 
fifty years have passed, I cannot help laugh- 
ing myself.”” © The sarabande over, the car- 
dinal seized the favourable opportunity, and 
made his declarations in form; but the 
queen, treating the whole as a matter of 
Monthly Review of Literature, 
[Jan. 
pleasantry, and turning all into ridicule, 
changed love to hatred—“ and in the end 
paid,” says De Brienne, “ dearly for the 
pleasure of seeing his eminence dance a 
sarabande.”’ 
But the chief interest of the volumes falls 
upon Mazarin, of whom De Brienne, from 
his official connexions, had a very near 
view. He represents him to have been a 
good looking man, something above the 
middle height ; of a fresh complexion, with 
eyes full of vivacity, and ‘a prominent nose, 
but suiting well with the contour of his 
face; a fine forehead, chesnut hair, and 
curly, with a beard of a darker colour, and 
always carefully curled. He took great care 
of his hands, which were very good, and was 
fond of perfumes. Unless you were early 
with him, you could not perceive gu’il sente 
maawvais. He was keen, observant, and 
prompt. He was never seen with his bre- 
viary—and probably had a dispensation on 
the score of business—but attended mass 
every day, and communicated on the great 
festivals—c’est toujours quelque chose. For 
the rest, adds De Brienne, he was not very 
scrupulous, and kept in his own hands some 
thirty or forty benefices, or more. He was 
fond of spectacles, parties, fetes, &c., and 
passionately devoted to gaming, to which 
he gave up full as much time as to business. 
He was impatient under losses, and eager 
for gain, and lost no opportunity of what 
he called taking his adyantages, which 
seems to have meant cheating. 
The interval between Richelieu’s and the 
king’s death was but four months, in which 
period Mazarin concurred in the appoint- 
ment of a sovereign council, consisting of 
the Prince de Condé, himself, and two 
others, to control the Queen Regent, and 
her Lieutenant d’Orleans. This, however, 
by the first act of the Parliament was broken 
up immediately on the king’s death, and 
the queen’s absolute regency confirmed. 
All seemed over with Mazarin—he had al- 
ready packed up for Italy, when, suddenly, 
and most unexpectedly, he found himself in 
high favour, and higher authority than be- 
fore. Beanvois proved incompetent—Ma- 
zarin was sounded, and found more’ com- 
pliant than was expected—at the first hint 
he passionately declared himself the queen’s 
devoted slave, and offered to sign the decla- © 
ration, literally, with his blood ; and all was 
forthwith put into his hands, apparently at 
first only as a temporary arrangement, but 
which his adroitness made a permanent one. 
De Brienne discredits the stories that 
were afloat of their subsequent personal inti- 
macy ; but he judges of what he saw during 
the last five or six years of Mazarin’s life, 
for he could have no acquaintance with the 
state of matters between them earlier of his — 
own knowledge. In his opinion, if Mazarin | 
was a lover, his was a sort of cupboard love 
—for what he could get; “ this,” says 
De Brienne, “ may be called ambition, but 
not /ove.” No real attachment existed, he — 
