exhausting the resources of a consummate ability for more than a year, in order to persuade and attract each other towards the common end which both desired, without succeeding in it, and without being able to cure themselves of their mutual and incurable suspicions. Let us look at the principal features—the beginning, the progress, the details, and the inevitable end of this singular correspondence.
It is opened on the 1st of June, 1638, by a letter from Madame de Chevreuse. The duchess thanks the cardinal for the friendly assurances which have been given her in his behalf; she confesses to him that, when, in the preceding year, she resolved to quit France, it was from apprehension of the suspicions which he seemed to entertain of her, and that she wished to leave to time the task of dissipating them. "I hope," she says, "that the evil fortune which constrained me to flee from France is weary of pursuing me . . . I should be very glad to be entirely cured of my fears by the discovery that my enemies are not more powerful than my innocence."[1] This letter, while feigning frankness and confidence, is exceedingly artful and reserved. Madame de Chevreuse carefully guards against engaging in any discussion upon the past, though she slightly refers to it in order to sound Richelieu, not wishing to expose herself to an investigation concerning her previous conduct on her return to France; she is therefore careful to use the word innocence adroitly, yet without protestation. The part Madame de Chevreuse meant to play may be understood from this first letter—it consisted in quietly procuring a pledge of her safety. To cease from declaring her innocence would have been to deliver herself into the hands of Richelieu, who, at the first feigned or real symptom of discontent, could arm himself with her confessions and crush her. The answer of the cardinal also discloses, and, as we think, a little too clearly, his secret thought; like his usual
- ↑ Manuscripts of Colbert, ibid.
