Henri Coiffier de Ruzé d'Effiat

Just hours after being condemned to death on 12 September 1642, Henri Coiffier de Ruzé d’Effiat, Marquis de Cinq-Mars — the twenty-two-year-old favorite who once had three hundred pairs of boots, Gobelins tapestries worth a king’s ransom, and the entire court wrapped around his finger — sat down and wrote this to his mother, the Maréchale d’Effiat: He already knew he was never going to see her again.

Original French (from the manuscript):

Madame, ma tres chere et tres honorée mere, Je vous escris, puisqu’il ne m’est plus permis d’esperer de vous voir, pour vous conjurer, madame, de me rendre deux marques de votre derniere bonté : l’une, madame, en donnant à mon ame le plus de prieres qu’il vous sera possible, ce qui sera pour mon salut ; et l’autre soit que vous obtenies du Roy le bien que j’ay emploié dans ma charge de grand ecuyer et ce que j’en pouvois avoir d’autre part, auparavant qu’il fust confisqué, ou, soit que cette grace ne vous soit pas acordée, que vous aiez assés de generosité pour satisfaire à mes creanciers. Tout ce qui depand de la fortune est si peu de chose que vous ne me devez pas refuser en la derniere suplication que je vous fais pour le repos de mon ame. Croiés moy, madame, en cela plus tost que vos santimans, s’ils repugnent à mon soubet, puisque, ne fesant plus un pas qui ne me conduise à la mort, je suis plus capable que qui que ce soit de juger de la valeur des choses du monde. Adieu, madame, et me pardonnés si je ne vous ay pas assez respectée autant que j’ay vescu, et vous assures que je meurs, Madame, ma tres chere et tres honorée mere, votre tres humble, tres obeissant et tres obligé filz et serviteur, H. D’EFFIAT DE CINQ MARS

Modern English translation:

Madame, my very dear and very honored mother, I write to you, since it is no longer permitted for me to hope to see you, to beg you, madame, to grant me two last marks of your kindness: the first, madame, by giving my soul as many prayers as you possibly can — this will be for my salvation; and the second, either that you obtain from the King the property I used in my office of Grand Écuyer and whatever else I might have possessed before it was confiscated, or, if this grace is not granted to you, that you have enough generosity to satisfy my creditors. Everything that depends on fortune is so little a thing that you must not refuse me this last supplication I make to you for the repose of my soul. Believe me, madame, in this rather than your own feelings, if they go against my wish, for since I no longer take a single step that does not lead me to death, I am more capable than anyone of judging the true value of the things of this world. Adieu, madame, and forgive me if I have not respected you enough while I lived, and rest assured that I die, Madame, my very dear and very honored mother, your very humble, very obedient and very obliged son and servant, H. D’EFFIAT DE CINQ MARS

He even attached a little note listing some of the creditors (M. de Guénégaud, M. Catelan, etc.) — basically a medieval Venmo request from the scaffold: This is the same man Louis XIII once called “the most depraved and ungrateful creature” while complaining about his boot collection. Now he’s reduced to begging his mother to clean up his mess so his soul can rest in peace. 😌

(Attached to the letter was a separate note with the full creditor list — I’ll post that + the auction inventory next)

In the title of this article we have listed, among the favorites and upstarts of the reign of Louis XIII, Marguerite d’Autefort, the Marquis de Barradas, and Cinq-Mars, Marquis d’Effiat, who enjoyed the king’s special favor. This favor was the passing whim of the soulless Louis XIII. Boasting of his chastity, he courted Marguerite d’Autefort without seeking reciprocity, and at the same time mocked his beloved.

[ ... ]

Cinq-Mars — the hero of Alfred de Vigny’s famous novel, exalted to the heavens by the novelist — was in truth a wretched fellow, to use our own folk expression. It was Cardinal Richelieu who brought him into prominence, having made an agreement with this favorite that he should play the role of spy at the court of Louis XIII — a role Cinq-Mars fulfilled with particular zeal. His relations with the king were, it seems, the very same as those of Fedka Basmanov with Ivan the Terrible. Louis XIII was jealous of his favorite’s mistresses, Marion Delorme and Mademoiselle de Chamero. When Cinq-Mars left for the siege of Arras, the king exacted from him an oath to write twice a day, and when the favorite once lingered and sent no letter, His Majesty wept the whole day, fully convinced that Cinq-Mars — or, as he was called, Monsieur le Grand — had been killed.

With all the courtiers Cinq-Mars behaved insolently and roughly; he loved to boast of his finery, while before the king he coquetted no worse than some camellia. Forgetting all the cardinal’s favors, Cinq-Mars took part in a plot against his life and at the same time entered into communication with Spain. Marion Delorme did not delay in informing the cardinal of her lover… Seized in Sorbonne, interrogated, and found guilty of high treason, Cinq-Mars was executed (12 September 1642) together with his friend and accomplice de Thou. Two months before his fall Louis XIII said of him to Captain Faber:

L — He wearies me! For half a year now I feel sick whenever I look at him! F — I would have been ready to swear that Your Majesty’s favor knows no bounds. L — Everyone thinks so, but it is not so. Cinq-Mars is the most depraved and ungrateful creature; he values neither my affection nor the favors with which I shower him… And if only you knew what he costs me! Do you know that this spendthrift has no fewer than three hundred pairs of boots?

This remark of Louis XIII about his favorite recalls the complaints of an old father about the extravagance of his kept mistress. And this very Cinq-Mars became the hero of Alfred de Vigny’s novel — the novel over which our fathers shed tears! Indeed, the reign of Louis XIII — that is to say, Richelieu — is an inexhaustible source of romantic plots, from which the late Dumas drew his Three Musketeers, Twenty Years After, The Vicomte de Bragelonne, and, if we are not mistaken, two or three more novels familiar to our reading public in translations of varying merit.

Source : Кондратий Биркин - Временщики и фаворитки XVI, XVII и XVIII столетий. Книга II

The greatest love of M. le Grand at that time was Chemerault, now Madame de La Bazinière. She was then in religion in Paris. She had been expelled because of him, and finally was sent to Poitou. One evening at Saint-Germain he met Rumigny, and said to him: “Follow me, I must go out to speak to Chemerault. There is a place in the moat through which I mean to pass: two horses are waiting for me there.” They went out; but the groom had fallen asleep on the ground, and their two horses had been taken. Here was M. le Grand in despair.

They went into the village to try to find other horses, and they noticed a man following them at a distance. It was a chevau-léger of the guard, the greatest spy the King had on M. le Grand. M. le Grand, having recognized him, called him and spoke to him. This man wanted to make them believe they were going to fight. He swore they were not. Finally, the man went away.

Rumigny advised M. le Grand to return — for fear of angering the King — to go to bed, and two hours later to send for some officers of the wardrobe to come and speak with him because he could not sleep; thus he would, for a time, undo the credibility of his spies, for the next day they would not fail to tell the King that he had gone out. M. le Grand followed this advice. The next day, the King said to him: “Ah! you were in Paris?” He produced his witnesses. The spy was confounded, and he had leisure to make three nocturnal journeys to Paris.

To tell the truth, the life the King made him lead was a sad one. The King, most likely, avoided the world and especially Paris because he was ashamed of the people’s misery. People scarcely cried “Long live the King!” when he passed; but he was incapable of setting anything in order. He had reserved only the care of providing for the companies of the regiment of the guards and the old corps, and was more jealous of this than of anything else.

It has been noted that the King loved everything that M. le Grand hated, and that M. le Grand hated everything that the King loved. They agreed in only one thing: to hate the Cardinal.

Source : Mémoires de Tallemant des Réaux. - Project Gutenberg

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M. le Grand had once been more in love with Marion de Lorme than he was then. Once, as he went to see her in Brie, he was taken for a thief by men who were indeed chasing thieves. They tied him to a tree, and without someone who recognized him, they would have carried him off to prison. Madame d’Effiat, fearing that he might marry this girl, obtained prohibitions from Parliament. He made his mother furious for some time, for she was miserly, and he, out of spite, changed his clothes four times a day and went to see Marion just as many times. She had since overcome her aversion once he was in favor. She had good reason to love him, for he alone was worth anything. He had heart. He had fought — and fought well — against Du Dognon, now Marshal Foucault. He had wit, and was very well made in person. His elder brother died mad; that elder brother made shoe soles out of the finest tapestries of Chilly, and the abbot is worth little, though he has enough wit.

Source : Mémoires de Tallemant des Réaux. - Project Gutenberg

I was also told that on some journey the King went to bed as early as seven. He was very careless; he scarcely had a coif on his cap*. Two great dogs leapt immediately upon the bed, ruined it entirely, and began to lick His Majesty. He sent for M. le Grand to be undressed; he returned adorned like a bride. “Lie down, lie down,” said the King impatiently. He contented himself with chasing away the dogs without having the bed remade, and this favorite was not yet in bed before the King was already kissing his hands. In this great ardor, not finding that M. le Grand returned it sufficiently — for his heart was elsewhere — he said to him: “But, my dear friend, what is the matter? What do you want? You are all sad. De Niert, ask him what troubles him; tell me, have you ever seen such favor?” He had him spied upon to know whether he went secretly anywhere.

Source : Mémoires de Tallemant des Réaux. - Project Gutenberg

* “He was very careless; he barely had a coif on his cap”: This means he was so casual or negligent in his appearance, that he had only the thinnest or most minimal head covering on. The sentence implies the King went to bed without properly dressing or arranging himself.

I reaally like this scene specifically because it shows just how insecure Louis XIII could be, even as a king. It shows a man who craves affirmation and attention, yet struggles to manage his own emotions, projecting his anxieties onto his favorite. Pretty neat!

Fontrailles recounted that, having once entered very abruptly into M. le Grand’s chamber at Saint-Germain, he surprised him being rubbed from head to foot with jasmine oil, and as he slipped into bed, he said in an unsteady voice: “This is cleaner.” A moment later came a knock — it was the King. It would appear — so said the son of the late L’Huillier, to whom this was told — that he was oiling himself for combat.

Ahem.. Nice cover story, Henri.

Source : Mémoires de Tallemant des Réaux. - Project Gutenberg

The Eminent One, seeing well that the King needed some amusement, cast his eyes, upon Cinq-Mars, who was already quite pleasing to the King. He had had this plan in mind for a long time, for the Marquis de La Force spent three years unable to rid himself of the post of Grand Master of the Wardrobe (I believe it had been given to him in place of that of Captain of the Bodyguards). The Cardinal wished that none but Cinq-Mars should have it. In fact, M. d’Aumont, elder brother of Villequier, now Marshal d’Aumont, was not admitted to it, although he had the King’s good word.

At first, M. de Cinq-Mars led the King into debauchery. They danced; they drank toasts. But as he was a fiery young man who loved his pleasures, he soon grew weary of a life he had taken up only reluctantly. Moreover, La Chesnaye, first valet-de-chambre — who was his spy — put him in bad favor with the Cardinal, for he told him a hundred trifles about the King that Cinq-Mars never mentioned, but which the Cardinal wished to hear. Cinq-Mars, having become Grand Écuyer and Count of Dampmartin, dismissed La Chesnaye; but by doing so he also declared war on the Cardinal.

Source : Mémoires de Tallemant des Réaux. - Project Gutenberg

Henri was surprised to find that there was no proper executioner's block, and that he was expected to lay his head down on a tree stump. He bent forward to test it and was then asked to remove his doublet. Before he did so, he handed Father Malavalette a diamond-studded box. "Inside is the portrait of the lady I loved. Burn it and give the box to charity." He snatched the scissors from his executioner's hands and trimmed off a couple of his brown curls and begged Malavalette to burn them with the portrait. He may have hoped that the priest would give these relics to Princesse Marie. We do not know if he ever did.

Finally, Henri requested that Father Malavalette's assistant, and not the executioner, should cut his hair off. As his hair fell about his shoulders, Cinq-Mars sighed, "My God, what a world." After praying for a few minutes he turned to his executioner and snapped, "What are you doing? What are you waiting for?" From a sack the man removed an ax 'that looked like a meat cleaver, only larger and squarer.'

"Let's go," Cinq-Mars whispered. "It's time to die. My God, have pity on me!"

He was not blindfolded. Monsieur le Grand 'with incredible self-control [. . .] placed his neck squarely on the stump and faced the front of the scaffold. He hugged the stump tightly, shut his eyes, clenched his teeth, and waited for the blow.

'The executioner stood on his victim's left, clasped the ax in both hands, raised it into the air, and let it fall slowly and heavily. Receiving the blow, Henri gave a loud cry — like an "Ah!" — that was drowned in blood. His knees jerked up as if he were about to stand, then knelt back again. The blow had not severed the head completely. The executioner stepped around Cinq-Mars from behind, grabbed his hair in his right hand, and sawed at the part of the tracheal artery and the piece of skin which had not been severed.'

The charming head which had troubled so many hearts rolled across the length of the scaffold to drop into the crowd below. 'The cries of horror and the groans made a sound so horrible that one forgot where one was.' Henri's body was removed with great difficulty, for his arms remained locked around the stump. The executioner covered the head and body with a cloth.

Source : Le mignon du roi, Philippe Erlanger, Pg. 222 - 223

✶ Analysis regarding the execution ↴