‘The Supernatural and the Ethereal in the Character of Milady de Winter’ by Josephine Wilkinson

It was a dark and stormy night

 

Alexandre Dumas uses this now clichéd phrase, which he borrowed from Edward Bulwer-Lytton, to open Chapter 65 of his novel, The Three Musketeers. It comes almost s a shock to the unsuspecting reader because it seems oddly uninspired, jarring as it does with the originality and wit of Dumas’s usually carefully thought-out prose. Yet, by this point in the novel, the reader has been following an unaccustomed path for quite some time. Gradually, perhaps imperceptibly, The Three Musketeers had long taken on an unexpected quality.

   The Three Musketeers is arguably the most famous and cape-and-sword novels ever written. In d’Artagnan, it gave the world one of the greatest and best-loved literary heroes. The novel has been translated into many languages and appeared in countless editions since it was first published in Le Siècle as a roman feuilleton in 1844. It is usually, and quite rightly, described as a historical romance, an adventure; yet, as the novel progresses, it takes on an increasingly Gothic character spiced perhaps with a dash of Romanticism.

   Traditionally, the elements of the Gothic novel include the macabre, the fantastic and the supernatural. The action usually takes place against the setting of ‘haunted castles, graveyards, ruins and wild picturesque landscapes.’[1] While, at first glance, The Three Musketeers does not appear to fulfil these criteria, closer scrutiny reveals that at least some of them are present. For example, the Musketeers and d’Artagnan meet over breakfast at the Bastion Saint-Gervaise, a coastal fortress that had been breached and abandoned by all but the dead. Constance takes refuge with the convent at Bethune. Milady is held captive in Lord de Winter’s gloomy castle outside Portsmouth. Her judgement and execution take place against the backdrop of the afore-mentioned dark and stormy night.

   Yet, it is the supernatural qualities within The Three Musketeers that lend the novel its unexpected Gothic character. While some novels of the genre include ghosts, Dumas gave his readers death and resurrection. This is seen with both d’Artagnan and Athos. In d’Artagnan’s case, upon discovering the murdered Constance, he ‘uttered a cry and fell beside his mistress, ‘as pale and icy as she.’[2] It is as though he fell dead beside Constance, but he did not, of course, he had merely fainted. Athos rushes to him and embraces him tenderly, as d’Artagnan gently weeps. ‘My friend, be a man!’ he urges. ‘Women weep for the dead – men avenge them!’ To this, d’Artagnan, who has undergone a resurrection of sorts, replies: ‘Oh, yes, yes...if it be to avenge her, I am ready to follow you.’

   Dumas makes d’Artagnan and Athos avenging angels, for Athos, too, has tasted death. Seriously wounded during a duel, Athos ‘had rallied all his powers to bear up against his pain…finally defeated by it, [he] fell onto the floor as if he were dead.’[3]

      It is difficult to argue with David Coward’s assessment of The Three Musketeers as an ‘unashamedly masculine book.’[4] It is dominated by men: d’Artagnan, the Musketeers, Tréville, Louis XIII, Cardinal Richelieu, the duke of Buckingham, to name the most important ones. Naturally, there are female characters, but they tend to be depicted as little more than stereotypes. D’Artagnan’s mother is an obvious mother type, weeping for her son as he departs the family home to make his way in the world with her home-made balsam tucked into his saddlebag. Constance is a helpless heroine, who has to be rescued and looked after. She is also angelic, having been ‘an angel upon earth, before she became a saint in heaven.’ Anne of Austria, as a queen, fulfils a classic fairy-tale trope. She is an authority figure, certainly, but she is also a lover, and this makes her vulnerable. Like Constance, she must be watched over by men: the Musketeers; but she must also be protected from men: her husband and Cardinal Richelieu. Then there is Milady de Winter.

   It is with Milady that The Three Musketeers is at its most sinister. There is a darkness to Milady. She is an unsettling enigma, whose character transcends the role that Dumas had originally created for her. Initially, Rochefort was to be villain the piece. He and d’Artagnan became enemies from the moment d’Artagnan arrived at Meung. However, Dumas changed his mind and promoted Milady into the role of chief antagonist.

   Milady’s connections are spiritual. She works for Richelieu, a cardinal. She has associations with convents and churches, for example, the Benedictine convent at Templemars, where she lived as a young woman. She retreats to the convent of the Carmelites at Bethune following her escape from England. Milady also attends church, where she is discovered by d’Artagnan, who sees her at the church of Saint-Leun. Curiously, Milady singles out Aramis as the one who should be allowed to live. This is because he is the secret lover of Mme de Chevreuse, a fact that could perhaps be used to blackmail him: ‘he may be made useful,’ she says. More importantly, for most of the novel, Aramis experiences an inner conflict with his calling to the priesthood.

   Milady personifies several character stereotypes, all of which are negative: she is a harlot, a femme fatale who leads men astray. This is evinced by her beguiling qualities, which attract the then vicomte de La Fére to her. The vicomte, whom the reader will come to know as Athos, will fall deeply in love with Milady, marry her and make her the first lady of his province. Later, she uses her seductive powers to persuade the gullible Felton into killing the duke of Buckingham on her behalf. She is, therefore, an irresistible Eve figure tempting men towards their doom - in the case of Athos, to his descent into drunkenness and melancholy; for Felton, the consequences are more dire still, for he will be executed for his crime.

   An assassin, Milady makes several attempts to kill d’Artagnan: by having him shot during the siege of La Rochelle; by a poisoned bottle of Anjou wine; by asking for his head in exchange for that of Buckingham. Her brother-in-law, Lord de Winter, notes her ‘habit of assassinating people.’[5]

   Several times throughout the novel, Dumas makes various characters speak of the ‘weakness’ of women, but for Milady, weakness is easily overcome, or, more likely, it is feigned. It is clear that Milady is a character unlike any other. Most of the Gothic elements within the novel focus on her. She personifies the fantastic, the supernatural.

   From the beginning, Milady does not appear to be real. She possesses an almost fairy-like quality, which is reflected in her appearance: ‘She was pale and fair, with long curls falling on her shoulders, large blue languishing eyes, rosy lips, and hands of alabaster.’[6] When d’Artagnan catches his first sight of her at Meung, her beauty is all the more striking to him because it is ‘completely different from that of the southern country which he inhabited.’ Already we see Milady and d’Artagnan as opposites, with one appearing as the reverse of the other. Milady’s ‘head appeared through the window of the carriage, like a picture in a frame.’[7] Rather than a flesh and blood woman, Milady appears like a portrait, a beautiful imitation of a woman. She is ethereal, surreal, unreal. Yet, if Milady is not a real woman, what is she?

   D’Artagnan saw in Milady’s soul ‘abysses whose depths were dark and unknown.’ She: 

exercised an inconceivable power over him – he hated and adored her at the same time. Never had he believed that two sentiments so inconsistent could exist together in the same heart, creating, by commingling, a strange and, in some respects, a diabolical love.[8]

    At a point in the story where Athos does not yet realise Milady’s true identity, he urges d’Artagnan to renounce her: ‘a kind of intuition tells me that she is a lost creature, and that there is something fatal in her,’ he warns.[9] D’Artagnan admits that this woman, who is like ‘a dark cloud on the horizon,’ frightens him. Athos expresses the hope that Milady’s presence in d’Artagnan’s life would leave no ‘fatal trace.’

   In The Three Musketeers, Milady is likened to a supernatural being on several occasions. More than a mysterious figure, she has magical powers, she is an associate of Satan; Medusa; a phantom who haunts the dreams of those who see her. Most often, she is simply a demon. Milady does evil simply ‘for the infinite and supreme enjoyment of doing so.’[10] Anything she touches becomes polluted, such as the ring she gives to d’Artagnan.[11]

   Milady’s apparent magical power becomes evident when she is facing execution. She tries to bribe two of the Musketeers’ valets, Grimaud and Mousqueton, and frighten them into helping her: ‘A thousand pistoles for each of you, if you will help me to escape,’ she tells them; ‘but if you give me up to your masters, I have avengers near, who will make you pay dearly for my death.’ Athos overhears this and orders the two valets to withdraw: ‘she has spoken to them, and they are no longer safe,’ he explains.

   As an associate of the devil, Rochefort asks Milady to give his compliments to Satan.[12] Her singing voice has ‘all the charm, all the power, all the seduction, with which Satan had endowed it.’[13] Milady possesses the powers of Medusa: upon discovering the fleur de lys branded onto her shoulder, d’Artagnan is stricken with horror, and ‘he remained silent, motionless and frozen on the bed.’[14] As a phantom who haunts men in the night, Milady ‘having once appeared to anyone, would never more allow him to sleep in tranquillity.’[15]

   More commonly, however, Milady is seen as demonic. D’Artagnan, Porthos and the valet, Bazin, recognise her as such.[16] The Puritan Felton, another victim to Milady’s Medusa-like qualities, also has his doubts:

 ‘Who are you? What are you?’ exclaimed he, clasping his hands, ‘are you an angel or a demon? Are you Eloas or Astarte?’[17]

    However, the one who is most aware of this characteristic of Milady is her husband, Athos. At one point in the narrative, Aramis warns d’Artagnan that ‘woman was created for our ruin, and it is from her that all our miseries come.’[18] Athos, as he listened to Aramis’ Pauline-inspired assessment of women, ‘frowned and bit his lips.’ He remains silent, but he is disturbed by Aramis’ words. He knows something that Aramis does not, but he will open his heart only to one man, d’Artagnan.

   Athos tells d’Artagnan a love story during which the reader finds out that Milady was not always evil.[19] She was ‘as beautiful as Psyche,’ the goddess of the soul, a beautiful woman whom people, including priests, compared to Aphrodite. Despite her youth, she was only sixteen when Athos noticed her, she possessed ‘the soul less of a woman than a poet.’ More than merely pleasing, she ‘intoxicated the heart.’ Athos married her and took her to live in his castle. He made her the ‘first lady of the province.’ In this, she ‘maintained her station admirably.’

   While the young couple were out hunting together, Milady fell from her horse and fainted. It was at this point that Athos saw with horror the fleur-de-lys that had been branded onto her shoulder. ‘The angel was a demon,’ he tells d’Artagnan. ‘The miserable young girl was a thief.’

   Athos now exercised his powers as grand seigneur. Without hesitation, he stripped her of her clothes, tied her hands behind her back and hanged her from a tree. D’Artagnan was shocked: ‘a murder,’ he cried. ‘Yes,’ replied Athos, ‘a murder, nothing more.’ Athos fell silent. He had now become as pale as death.

   Athos had believed Milady to be dead, but he was wrong, Milady was not dead – but had she somehow managed to escape from the noose, or had she returned from the grave? If the latter, she was not the only one.

   Athos’ first face-to-face meeting with Milady since that incident, occurs in a scene following her interview with Richelieu.[20] During the interview, she has secured permission to assassinate d’Artagnan, who has thwarted her plans and ‘cruelly insulted’ her. Appearing before Milady, a figure of hatred and accusation, Athos has taken on a spectral quality. He tells the terrified woman that he has returned from ‘the other world’ specifically for the pleasure of seeing her. Ironically, Milady, upon realising that Athos is aware of what has passed between her and Richelieu, an interview she believed had taken place in secret, tells him: ‘You must indeed be Satan.’ Athos is indifferent to this slur, even accepting of it: ‘Perhaps so,’ he replies nonchalantly.

   ‘You are a demon let loose upon the earth,’ Athos tells Milady. ‘Your power is great, I know; but you know also, that with God’s assistance men have often overcome the most terrible demons. You have already crossed my path. I thought I had crushed you, madame, but I either deceived myself or hell has resurrected you.’ He continues: 

hell has resurrected you…hell has made you rich, hell has given you another name, hell has almost endowed you with another face; but it has not erased either the stain upon your soul or the brand upon your body. 

    Confronted by Athos, Milady, who is described as a ‘creature,’ who has ‘nothing of a woman in her nature,’ is ‘as pale as a corpse.’ As Athos raises his pistol towards her, she utters ‘a hoarse sound which had no resemblance to the human voice but seemed rather the growl of some savage beast.’ Pressed against the wall with its ‘gloomy tapestry, with her hair dishevelled, she looked like the appalling image of Terror.’

   Disarmed of the letter given to her by Richelieu, in which she was given carte blanche to act according to her will, she goes to England to continue her plan to assassinate the duke of Buckingham. As her ship arrives at Portsmouth,

the fog thickened the darkness still more and formed around the beacons and lanterns of the jetties a circle like that which surrounds the moon when the weather threatens rain. The air was melancholy, damp and cold.[21]

Here, Dumas muddles his chronology. The assassination of Buckingham occurred in August. Dumas sets the scene in December. The weather reflects Dumas’s view of rainy England, but he also uses the gloomy conditions as a metaphor for the ethereal Milady now reaching her destination. The wild picturesque landscapes so necessary to Gothic literature allow the elements to provide the perfect backdrop for what is to come. This motif will be seen again as the novel progresses.

   Milady is met at the harbour and driven to Lord de Winter’s castle somewhere outside Portsmouth. At one point, 

surprised at the length of the journey, she looks out of the window to see where they were taking her. She could no longer see houses, but trees emerging from the darkness, like vast black phantoms chasing one another.

 Arrived at last at her destination, Milady is met with ‘an iron gate at the entrance of a narrow road leading to a forbidding castle, massive and isolated.’ As she alights from her carriage, the scene plays out against the sound of waves crashing on the rocky coast. Milady will be imprisoned in the castle. Imprisonment is a theme of Romanticism, while Milady is, for A. Craig Bell, ‘a typical Romanticists creation of villainy, without shades.’[22]

   The theme of isolation is continued when Milady returns to France, with the house in which the headsman of Bethune lives. It is a small house, ‘isolated, lonely and melancholy.[23] That it is painted in a reddish colour adds to the unsettling atmosphere of the place and the sense of foreboding it inspires. Within, the trappings of the headman’s interests are seen. He has a laboratory, on the table of which lies a skeleton. He is in the process of reassembling it, and it is complete apart from the head, which still lies on the table. It is a macabre preview of Milady’s ultimate fate.

   It is fitting, also, that having discovered the dead Constance, murdered by Milady, Athos traces the route his wife had taken to escape the convent by means of spots of blood she has left behind. As night descends, d’Artagnan and the Musketeers, with their valets, make their way to where they know Miladyis hiding. They present a melancholy tableau, ‘bleak as despair, gloomy as revenge.’

   It is now that Dumas makes use of the ‘dark and stormy night’ as the setting for what is to come. With this chapter, the story of Milady moves inevitably towards its conclusion: 

It was a dark and stormy night. Large clouds swept across the sky, veiling the brightness of the stars; the moon would not rise until midnight.

   Sometimes, by the flash of lightning that lit up the horizon, the road could be seen, stretching out white and solitary before them; then, the flash extinguished, all was dark once again.[24]

 Yet again, the elements obligingly provide both a backdrop and a metaphor for the horror to come: the judgement of Milady and her subsequent execution.

   Entering Milady’s house, Athos appears as a ‘spectre of vengeance.’ He has ‘the solemn voice and powerful gesture of a judge sent by the Lord himself.’ It is imperative that Milady is judged and is not assassinated, for that would be a crime and the Musketeers, d’Artagnan, Lord de Winter and the headsman are not murderers. They have all experienced the wickedness of Milady at one time or another, in one form or another, and her death must be just.

   Athos once again refers to Milady’s demonic nature: ‘You are not a woman’ he tells her, ‘you do not belong to the human race; you are a demon escaped from hell, and to hell we shall send you back.’

   The headman binds Milady’s wrists. She ‘sent forth two or three wild screams, which had a startling, melancholy effect, as they were borne on the night and lost themselves in the depths of the woods.’ The night colludes with the ten men presiding over the death of Milady, whose cries vanish into the darkness of the night.

   In a final, desperate attempt to save her life, Milady offers to enter a convent. This is a return to the spiritual life she had led before she had met Athos: ‘I will become a nun,’ she cries, but it is too late. For Milady, no convent can offer sanctuary. ‘You were in a convent,’ the headsman reminds her, ‘and you left it to destroy my brother.’ The headsman of Bethune is the brother of the young priest, Milady’s lover, with whom she ran away from the convent of Templemars before she married Athos.

   Milady is then executed. The method selected is beheading. Claude Schopp points out that her death ‘is that of a vampire.’[25] Following her execution, her remains are thrown into the Lys. The name of the river reflects the fleur de lys that is burned onto Milady’s shoulder, offering a sense of symmetry to her fate and closing the circle of her criminal life.

   The river forms part of the border between France and Belgium, or the Spanish Netherlands as the Musketeers would have known it. While Dumas does not explain why Milady should not be killed on French soil, the material point is the river itself. A river is running, or living, water, over which supernatural beings are unable to cross. This should mark the end of Milady in this world and the next – it should, but it will not, for Milady will return to haunt d’Artagnan and the Three Musketeers in the form of her son, Mordaunt.[26]

   Having discovered Mémoires de M. d’Artagnan by Gatien de Courtilz de Sandras, Dumas was particularly intrigued by the names of the three musketeers, Athos, Porthos and Aramis. He was struck by the episode concerning d’Artagnan’s dalliance with Milady. In Courtilz’s work, he discerned the foundations of an exciting historical romance.

   Inspired, Dumas set down a rough draft of a narrative and sent it to his collaborator, Auguste Maquet, with a copy of Courtilz’s book for his opinion. If Maquet felt equally inspired, he failed to show it. Instead, he merely paraphrased the first few chapters of Courtilz and returned it to Dumas with a view to discussing how the plot and the characters should progress. In this, they disagreed. For Maquet, the novel should be written as a study of seventeenth-century manners, the book peopled by long-forgotten figures of the period. Their stories, he suggested, would be a more developed and dramatic version of Courtilz’s pseudo-memoir.

   For Dumas, on the other hand, Mémoires de M. d’Artagnan provided the starting point for a story that would allow him to do what he did best – to take great figures from the past and set them within whatever narrative framework best suited them. He took the somewhat one-dimensional characters he had found in Courtilz and transformed them so that they were both believable and relatable. The stilted and pedestrian dialogue of Courtilz became charming, amusing, meaningful and flowing. The action now took place against settings that were familiar with readers, painted as they were in the vibrant colours of the Parisian streets, battlegrounds, inns, palaces and musketeers’ lodgings.

   Dumas’s ‘unashamedly masculine’ novel is a masterclass of the swashbuckling escapade, a story of friendship and heroism – the historical romance that its author had envisaged. However, as the story progresses, The Three Musketeers increasingly becomes a battle of apocalyptic proportions. The spirts of good (d’Artagnan and the Musketeers) face the all-powerful spirit of evil (Milady), playing out what Schopp calls a ‘mime of catholic eschatology.’ In this context, the judgement of Milady reflects the general judgement of the last days.

   For Simone Bertière,

Milady’s character takes on an increasingly disturbing profile over the pages, and, once her identity is discovered, she reveals herself to be satanic. The struggle which pits her against our heroes then becomes a battle of Good against Evil.[27] 

   David Coward reminds readers that Dumas’s fiction is primarily ‘based on the principle of conflict.’ From the beginning of The Three Musketeers, he sought to ‘seed’ the novel ‘with evil as a counterweight to d’Artagnan’s nobility of heart.’[28] Coward agrees with Bertière’s interpretation, noting that the narrative is ‘dominated by d’Artagnan’s battle to the death with Milady, which acquired an epic dimension because it is also an allegorical battle between Good and Evil.’ At the same time, Milady’s branding is ‘a deliciously melodramatic touch, adding a frisson of horror.’[29]

   Milady ultimately serves as a force of evil to counterbalance the good of d’Artagnan and the Musketeers. As the novel continues, she becomes increasingly important to the plot - to the point that several chapters in the second half of the novel fail to mention d’Artagnan or the Musketeers at all. The focus instead is entirely upon Milady and the situation in which she then finds herself.

   The Three Musketeers, therefore, can be read on several levels: a historical romance, an adventure, a celebration of male friendship and heroism. It is also undoubtedly, and unexpectedly, an allegory of eschatology, in which good overcomes evil. However the novel is approached, the ghost of Milady de Winter will be seen running through the pages, haunting the reader, as she has haunted d’Artagnan and the Musketeers, long after they have read the closing lines.

 

Notes

 

1, Drabble (ed), p.405.

2, The Three Musketeers, Chapter 63,

3, The Three Musketeers, Chapter 3.

4, Dumas, Coward (ed), p.xviii.

5, The Three Musketeers, Chapter 50.

6, The Three Musketeers, Chapter 1.

7, The Three Musketeers, Chapter 1.

8, The Three Musketeers, Chapter 35.

9, The Three Musketeers, Chapter 35.

10, The Three Musketeers, Chapter 50.

11, The Three Musketeers, Chapter 38.

12, The Three Musketeers, Chapter 62.

13, The Three Musketeers, Chapter 53.

14, The Three Musketeers, Chapter 37.

15, The Three Musketeers, Chapter 48.

16, The Three Musketeers, Chapters 47, 48.

17, The Three Musketeers, Chapter 55.

18, The Three Musketeers, Chapter 9.

19, The Three Musketeers, Chapter 27.

20, The Three Musketeers, Chapter 45.

21, The Three Musketeers, Chapter 49.

22, Bell, p.196.

23, The Three Musketeers, Chapter 64.

24, The Three Musketeers, Chapter 65.

25, Dumas (Schopp), LXXV.

26, Mordaunt appears in Twenty Years After, the immediate sequel to The Three Musketeers.

27, Bertière, p.187.

28, Dumas (Coward), p.xvi.

29, Dumas (Coward), p.xvii.

 

Bibliography

 

·       Bell, A. Craig, Alexandre Dumas: A Biography and Study (London: Cassell & Company Limited, 1950)

·       Bertière, Simone, Dumas et les Mousquetaires: histoire d'un chef-d’œuvre (Paris: Librairie générale française, 2010

·       Coward, David (ed) see Dumas

·       Drabble, Margaret, The Oxford Companion to English Literature, fifth edition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985)

·       Dumas, Alexandre, The Three Musketeers edited by David Coward (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991-92)

·       Dumas, Alexandre, Les mousquetaires. I, Les trois mousquetaires. Vingt ans après, Alexandre Dumas; éd. établie par Claude Schopp (Paris: le Grand livre du mois, 1997)

·       Schopp, Claude (ed) see Dumas

‘D’Artagnan and Foucquet’ by Josephine Wilkinson

 

In seventeenth century France, few phrases were more sinister than ‘I am not satisfied with the behaviour of…’ This statement, whether expressed by the king verbally or in writing, amounted to nothing less than an order for the person so named to be arrested and imprisoned, sometimes for life, usually without trial. As he embarked upon the period known as his personal rule, Louis XIV’s use of this sentence initiated a series of events that would lead to his becoming absolute monarch.

 

Louis XIV by Le Brun

  The death of his first minister and mentor, Cardinal Mazarin, in March 1661, opened the way for Louis to achieve his long-cherished ambition: to rule alone. He was now twenty-two years old, recently married and soon to become a father. He was more than ready to take power into his own hands.

   Although he decided against having a premier minister to manage state affairs on his behalf, he did continue to use the council of ministers already in place. They were Pierre Séguier, chancellor; Michel Le Tellier, minister for war; Hughes de Lionne, minister for foreign affairs; and Nicolas Foucquet, superintendent of finances. They would advise him as and when he required, but final decisions and courses of action would rest with the king alone.

   Louis made an announcement to this effect at a council meeting that took place on the morning following Mazarin’s death. It reversed a system that had been in place since Cardinal Richelieu had begun conducting the affairs of Louis XIII in 1624. Most of the councillors accepted this decision. Whatever their thoughts on the matter, they kept them private. Foucquet, on the other hand, took the news badly. He had expected to replace Mazarin as premier minister, a view shared by several others. His ambition thwarted, he consoled himself with the belief that the young king, who hitherto had preferred gallantry, dancing and playing the guitar to government, would soon tire of the task he had set himself and, at that point, Foucquet would step in.

   Foucquet would have been a good candidate for such a post. He had considerable experience. He had been faithful to Mazarin and the crown during the Fronde - a series of uprisings by an aristocracy seeking to re-establish itself in what it considered to be its rightful place in government. Through his immense personal wealth, Foucquet could offer significant financial support to the crown, as he had done on many occasions previously. Despite this, Louis did not trust him, and, by May 1661, he had decided to remove him from office.

Nicolas Foucquet by Le Brun

   The reasons for Foucquet’s fall are complex, but the main points are these: 1, Louis came to suspect that Foucquet was mismanaging the finances for his own personal gain. 2, Foucquet’s patronage of the arts and fondness for magnificence, privileges usually associated with kingship, threatened to eclipse the king’s own glory. 3, Louis was uneasy about how powerful Foucquet had become. The minister had amassed a large following of supporters and hangers-on that amounted almost to a court of his own. Coupled with his various activities based at his stronghold on the island of Belle-Isle, Foucquet could become a threat: He could, should he so choose, instigate a new Fronde, a scenario the king feared most. Louis came to believe that removing Foucquet from office would not be enough. Instead, he would be arrested, tried and executed. Louis decided that Foucquet would be arrested in the autumn at Nantes, where a provincial assembly was due to be held. As superintendent, Foucquet was required to attend.

   The selection of the arresting officer posed more of a problem. Since Foucquet was a political figure, his arrest would normally fall to the captain of the Gardes du corps, a post then held by Léon Potier, duc de Gesvres. However, Louis knew that Gesvres was numbered among Foucquet’s network of friends, supporters and clients. He dared not entrust such a sensitive commission to him in case he should inform Foucquet and allow him to escape.

   Louis required a trustworthy man to carry out the task of arresting so powerful a minister. His choice fell upon Charles de Batz Castelmore d’Artagnan, at the time sub-lieutenant of the first company of the King’s Musketeers. D’Artagnan had remained faithful to the crown during the Fronde. He had served Mazarin in various missions. Above all, he was a musketeer, a regiment of which the king was especially proud. Louis, who had known d’Artagnan personally for many years, had every reason to believe that he would carry out his orders diligently and discreetly. As it was, Louis’s decision to commission d’Artagnan to arrest Foucquet provoked Gesvres. The captain was unhappy at having been overlooked and offended by the implication that he would put his friendship for Foucquet above his duty to the king. Louis understood this, but he could not take risks.

D'Artagnan, Dumas statue, Paris

   Louis arrived at Nantes on 1 September 1661 and took up lodgings in the Château des ducs de Bretagne. He sent for d’Artagnan to issue him with his orders. As it happened, the musketeer was ill in bed with a fever, but he made his way to the château despite this. When Louis saw how ill he was, however, he sent him back to his lodgings until he had recovered. It is a testament to the king’s faith in d’Artagnan that he preferred to delay matters rather than assign another man.

   In due course, d’Artagnan recovered sufficiently to return to duty. Having arrived at the château, Louis gave him his orders verbally before handing him a packet containing the lettre de cachet that served as Foucquet’s arrest warrant, instructions on how he was to proceed and the route he was to take to escort his prisoner back to Paris. Under strict orders to maintain secrecy, d’Artagnan was sent to Michel Le Tellier, the minister for war, for further clarification. Upon his arrival, d’Artagnan found the minister in the company of several courtiers. Speaking aloud, he announced that the king had sent him for despatches. Le Tellier, recognising this as a signal, promptly dismissed the courtiers and took d’Artagnan into his private cabinet.

   At this point, d’Artagnan apparently became overwhelmed by the import of his commission – to arrest a man as highly placed and powerful as Foucquet was no small matter. He began to feel the effects of a new attack of fever, at which point Le Tellier sat him down and gave him a glass of wine. After discussing his orders, Le Tellier sent d’Artagnan back to his lodgings with instructions to return early the following morning when he would arrest Foucquet.

   D’Artagnan was already in place by five o’clock in the morning of 5 September. He was accompanied by 100 musketeers. In view of d’Artagnan’s continuing illness, Louis had appointed two ‘gentlemen servants,’ Maupertuis and Clavaux, to assist him should he need them. As Foucquet arrived, any anxiety he might have felt upon seeing so many musketeers was dispelled when he learned that Louis planned to go hunting immediately after the meeting. As his personal guard, the musketeers would naturally accompany him. With everyone in place, d’Artagnan and his men could only wait.

  Once the assembly ended, Louis detained Foucquet under the pretext of finding some papers for him. As he pretended to rummage about on his desk, he glanced out the window to make sure d’Artagnan was still in place. Satisfied, he dismissed Foucquet. The time had come.

   Two small but crucial details almost thwarted the operation before it had even got underway. The first was that d’Artagnan required final confirmation from Le Tellier before he could proceed. In the event, Le Tellier had been detained and was unavailable to give the signal. The second detail had to do with the precise location in which arrest would take place. D’Artagnan was ordered to proceed only when Foucquet had left the precincts of the château, and so beyond Gesvres’s jurisdiction. The delay in receiving confirmation allowed Foucquet to access his chair, with his porters carrying him out of sight as the musketeers looked on helplessly. Angry and frustrated, d’Artagnan sent Maupertuis to inform Louis. The furious king sent the adjunct back with the order: ‘find him.’

   Meanwhile, d’Artagnan and fifty or so musketeers pursued Foucquet on foot, catching up with him outside the cathedral. He stopped the chair and sent Maupertuis to inform the superintendent that d’Artagnan had a message for him that could not wait. Foucquet obligingly alighted, upon which d’Artagnan announced: ‘Monsieur, I arrest you by order of the king.’

   For some time, Foucquet had been warned that the king planned to act against him, but he had faith in Louis and refused to believe it. Now, faced with the reality of his situation, he asked to see the order. As he handed it back to d’Artagnan, he requested only that the musketeer should carry out his orders discreetly.

Arrest of Foucquet by Druet

   At this point, d’Artagnan realised he was stranded without a carriage and was forced to take his prisoner to the nearest house to await transportation and the rest of the musketeers. Once inside, d’Artagnan sent Clavaux to inform the king that Foucquet was now in custody.

   D’Artagnan searched Foucquet’s pockets and seized his papers, which were sent on to Louis. Foucquet, now in a state of shock, was given a cup of bouillon, a gesture of kindness allowed for in the plan drawn up the king.

   From now on, d’Artagnan was responsible for everything that happened concerning his prisoner. The prime concern was to maintain secrecy. It was imperative that no one knew that Foucquet was in custody, still less where he was being held. This was to prevent his friends and supporters attempting to mount a rescue and to ensure that crucial documents were not destroyed. For the same reason, d’Artagnan had to ensure that Foucquet could not pass or receive any messages, or even see anyone other than those authorised to have any commerce with him. In addition, d’Artagnan was required to report everything Foucquet did and said, even if he spoke to d’Artagnan in confidence. Whatever illness and injury there might arise was dealt with by providing whatever assistance was practical, but the patient was not to be allowed to leave the prison.

   Such secrecy could never be maintained, however. It soon became widely known that Foucquet had been arrested, probably because one of his valets, La Forêt, had escaped the cordon that had been established and reached Paris before anyone could stop him. At this point, the people blamed Foucquet for the hardships they were facing in their everyday lives. As the superintendent of finances, they were ready to believe that his vast wealth had been amassed at their expense. As d’Artagnan moved his prisoner from one château to another, he had to protect Foucquet against death threats.

   Security, therefore, was a vital as secrecy. D’Artagnan travelled in the same carriage with Foucquet, accompanied by Maupertuis, Clavaux and another, unnamed musketeer. The journey to Paris naturally required several overnight stops at various châteaux on the way. As they arrived at each one, d’Artagnan inspected the buildings to ensure that they were fully secure.

Château d'Angers

   Louis had also arranged for a two-month stay at Angers. Here, d’Artagnan took advantage of permission to order necessary repairs to the drawbridges and battlements. He also required a chapel to be prepared for the prisoner’s use. Having inspected each room, he selected one he thought would offer the best security. As it happened, it overlooked the moat, which fell in line with the plan set down by Louis. D’Artagnan was required never to leave Foucquet alone, which meant he had to sleep in his room. To assist with the general security, d’Artagnan posted musketeers at the entrances and outside windows.

   Occasionally, however, Foucquet was granted permission to write to his wife, provided he confined himself to domestic matters. D’Artagnan was instructed to provide him with writing materials and to forward his letters unsealed to the king. In one instance, Foucquet gave a diamond to d’Artagnan, requesting him to send it to the king to be sold, with the proceeds to be given to the poor. As it happened, his request was granted.

   Despite the security measures already in place, Foucquet had still managed to write to his wife without authority and slip messages out to some of his supporters. The prisoner was deemed to be difficult, and d’Artagnan was assigned more musketeers to help him. These included Saint-Leger and Saint-Mars, both maréchaux de logis of the musketeers

   Another of d’Artagnan’s duties was to look after the catering. He had to furnish the room Foucquet was to use and provide for such essentials as food, heating and laundry. This was a simple matter of purchasing items from local merchants.

   Soon, d’Artagnan would be required to look after and cater for additional persons. Louis had deemed that Foucquet should be allowed the services of his own valet de chambre, a man named Lavallée, who had served him for some years. Similarly, his personal physician, Pecquet, was brought in to attend him. D’Artagnan had to cater for all three, but Louis had provided him with 1,000 louis d’or for this purpose.

   In late November, d’Artagnan received another prisoner. This was Paul Pellisson, Foucquet’s secretary, who had been arrested at the same time as Foucquet and had been held at the château de Nantes since that time. D’Artagnan was to observe the same security measures as he did with Foucquet, and to ensure that the prisoners had no contact with each other.

   Pellisson’s arrival marked the end of the sojourn at Angers. D’Artagnan received orders to set out with Foucquet, his valet and physician for the next stop on the way to Paris, Amboise. Pellisson was to travel with them, with Foucquet and his small entourage enjoying the relative luxury of a carriage, while Pellisson travelled on horseback.

   At Amboise, which the party reached on 4 December, d’Artagnan passed Foucquet and his servants into the hands of Talhouet, an ensign of the Gardes du corps. He then pressed on to Paris, dropping off Pellisson at the Bastille on 12 December. Now, after more than three months as a gaoler, d’Artagnan was discharged of this distasteful, thankless and stressful duty. The necessary papers having already been drawn up, he was ordered to report to the king and resume his regular duties.

   At this point, d’Artagnan had reason to believe that his days guarding prisoners were over. Alas, this was not to be the case. Unfortunately for all concerned, Talhouet did not live up to expectation, largely because he could not get on with Roger de Canalès de Marsac, the governor of Vincennes where Foucquet was now being held. Louis feared that this situation threatened to compromise the security of the prisoner. His solution was to return d’Artagnan to the post of gaoler, guarding Foucquet, Pecquet and Lavallée.

Château de Vincennes

   D’Artagnan arrived at Vincennes on 4 January with orders to continue the measures he had taken at Angers. He was accompanied by two maréchaux de logis. Whether they were Saint-Leger and Saint-Mars is not known for certain, although there is reason to believe that Saint-Mars was indeed one of them, as shall be seen. On this occasion, d’Artagnan was not put to any trouble to find suitable furnishings for his charges. The chambers were furnished using items taken from Foucquet’s own mansion at Saint-Mandé, the gardens of which backed onto those of Vincennes. From this point on, and for the next three years, d’Artagnan would rarely be apart from Foucquet.

   As each stage of the proceedings against Foucquet unfolded, d’Artagnan was kept informed. In 1662, Louis established a chambre de justice to try the case, and several of the commissionaires required access to Foucquet at various times. D’Artagnan would allow or deny them admittance according to the king’s orders. He played a similar role when Foucquet was eventually allowed access to lawyers.

   Throughout his tenure as gaoler, d’Artagnan showed great compassion towards his prisoner. This was manifested in such areas as ensuring Foucquet had a comfortable bed, but his compassion extended beyond creature comforts. As he undertook one particular journey with Foucquet, d’Artagnan was ordered not to stop for any reason while on the road. This was standard procedure, but, on one occasion, d’Artagnan noticed Foucquet’s wife and four young children waiting by the road. Obeying his instructions to the letter, he did not stop the coach. Instead, he ordered the driver to slow down sufficiently to allow Foucquet to kiss his family before speeding up again to continue the journey. This was a tremendous gesture. It provided a boost to Foucquet’s morale, spurring him on to fight his cause with greater fervour.

   At the beginning of his imprisonment, Foucquet had been denied access to his papers and deprived of writing materials. This was standard in such cases, but Foucquet had found a way round it. He initially refused to speak to any of the commissionaires from the chambre de justice, staying silent as they tried to question him. In the end, it was decided he should be tried as a mute. This ingenious strategy resulted in Foucquet being allowed the materials he wanted – it also provided him with the means to begin writing a series of pamphlets in his defence. It is not clear whether d’Artagnan knew of this and merely turned a blind eye, or whether Foucquet managed to write such a large amount of work without d’Artagnan knowing. Either way, by the time Foucquet was allowed to speak with his own lawyers, they obligingly smuggled out the defences, which would eventually be published in several volumes.

   When Louis granted permission for Foucquet to take the air, d’Artagnan was instructed to take him to the roof terrace of the château, where the two of them would walk. The question must be asked, therefore, were d'Artagnan and Foucquet friends?

   Because d’Artagnan and Foucquet had both served the late Cardinal Mazarin, they certainly knew each other, but they were not friends, nor were they enemies. However, this situation would change in time. That they lived in such close proximity could have led to dislike of each other or even enmity. As it was, it appeared to have had the opposite effect, with Foucquet even confiding in d’Artagnan. As the formal stage of the trial drew near, Foucquet told d’Artagnan that he was ready to face his judges. For his part, d’Artagnan took an interest in the proceedings and came to evince genuine sympathy for his prisoner’s plight.

   In the autumn of 1664, Foucquet’s trial entered its final phase, that of a formal hearing in a court of law. The chambre de justice moved into the Arsenal, while Foucquet was lodged at the Bastille. It was only a short walk from his prison to the Arsenal, with the prisoner and d’Artagnan walking side by side, while forty or fifty musketeers followed several paces behind, armed and ready to fire. On one occasion, Foucquet stopped to speak to some workmen who were building a fountain. He turned to the puzzled d’Artagnan and explained that he used to understand these matters. Once again, this is a testament to the relationship that had developed between the two men over the past three years. Foucquet’s side-step could have resulted in his being killed by the musketeers, but d’Artagnan knew and trusted him well enough to show leniency.

La Bastille

   A week after this incident, d’Artagnan was walking his prisoner back to his prison when he noticed some of Foucquet’s friends watching from a distance. Foucquet was absorbed in his own thoughts, so d’Artagnan gave him a nudge and alerted him to their presence. A small act of kindness that, once again, lifted his prisoner’s spirits.

   Shortly before the verdict was due, a comet appeared in the skies over Paris. D’Artagnan took an interest in the comet and went to the roof to get a better view. He then returned to awake Foucquet and take him out with him, another sign of the friendship they had come to share.

   On the day Foucquet was due to hear the verdict, d’Artagnan led him into the prison chapel, so that the court officials had to read it out to him there. This seemingly innocuous gesture was, in fact, an act of defiance because it obliged Foucquet to receive them uncovered; that is, hatless. As such, it went against the accepted norms and accorded with Foucquet’s consistent refusal to acknowledge the legitimacy of the court that had been established to try him.

   In the event, Foucquet had been found guilty of certain financial irregularities and sentenced to banishment from the kingdom and confiscation of his property. Louis, displeased with this, changed the sentence to life imprisonment in solitary confinement. It was this latter sentence that was read out to Foucquet.

   However, d’Artagnan’s compassion did not extend only to Foucquet, but also to the two men who had served him so faithfully during his long ordeal, Lavallée and Pecquet. Throughout the entire process, they, as well as Foucquet, had expected that the outcome would be a guilty verdict and execution. On the day of the verdict, they were separated from him and left alone to think the worst. D’Artagnan saw their obvious distress and went to comfort them, assuring them that their master was saved.

   One of the lawyers appointed to the Chambre was Olivier Lefèvre d’Ormesson. A man of integrity, he was adamant that Foucquet should be treated fairly. This stance was to cost him his career. D’Artagnan recognised his sacrifice and told him ‘that he would not hear anything about this whole affair here, and that as soon as he was back, he would come and talk’ to Ormesson.

   Here, d’Artagnan alluded to his new orders – to escort Foucquet to Pignerol, a fortress and garrison in Piedmont that was to serve as his prison. While d’Artagnan could have been excused from this daunting task, he felt it his duty. Ormesson saw that the prospect of so difficult a journey made the musketeer unhappy. It could have been worse, though, for d’Artagnan might have been appointed to the post of gaoler there, too. This would have meant remaining at Pignerol until Foucquet died. As it was, d’Artagnan’s maréchal de logis, Saint-Mars, was selected for the position, possibly because he had demonstrated his capability and aptitude while assisting d’Artagnan.

   The journey through France and across the Alps into Italy was long and difficult. It was full winter, and the terrain was slow, cold and dangerous. D’Artagnan ensured that Foucquet, sitting in the comfortless carriage, was provided with furs to keep him warm. He also did his best to reassure the prisoner, urging him to keep up his spirits and his courage and all would go well. There was, apparently, some hope of mitigation, at least among Foucquet’s friends, and d’Artagnan was in contact with the king through a regular exchange of letters. This, however, was not to be.

Pignerol

   The journey to Pignerol took three weeks, but d’Artagnan’s duties did not end when he reached his destination. He inspected the two chambers that had been selected for Foucquet’s use and found them unsatisfactory. He ordered Saint-Mars to prepare a third chamber, and stayed on in the town, inspecting the works every day until he was satisfied that Foucquet, cut off from his loved ones and supporters, should at least have comfortable lodgings.

   D’Artagnan then made his way back to Paris, his duties as gaoler at an end. It had been a difficult and unhappy commission, but he had acquitted himself with a perfect balance of humanity and professionalism. Leaving behind a man who had become a friend, he returned to his rightful place in the service of the king in the regiment of the musketeers.