Memoirs of Jean François Paul de Gondi, Cardinal de Retz — Complete — Inside the Classic

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In Category - Modern Nations

Authors: Retz, Jean François Paul de Gondi de, 1613-1679 Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2004 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: France -- Court and courtiers; France -- History -- Louis XIV, 1643-1715; Mazarin, Jules, 1602-1661 Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

Edition facts

Words 106,927

Reading time 465 min

Text sections 9

The source record for Memoirs of Jean François Paul de Gondi, Cardinal de Retz — Complete — Inside the Classic measures this digital text at 106,927 words, 7 hr 45 min estimated reading time, and 9 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 33.2 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “France -- Court and courtiers,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #3846

Cardinal de Retz's memoirs recount the Fronde through layered negotiations, sudden military declarations, and shifting alliances. The narrative moves between Paris, Brussels, and the battlefield, driven by speeches, letters, and couriers. Retz presents himself as a calculating observer, often noting the gap between intention and outcome.

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ce, for, instead of complying with these offers of the Cardinal and with the entreaties of the Grand Master, urging me to go and make my court to him, I returned the most trifling excuses and apologies; one time I pretended to be sick and went into the country. In short, I did enough to let them see that I did not care to be a dependent on the Cardinal de Richelieu, who was certainly a very great man, but had this particular trait in his genius,--to take notice of trifles. Of this he gave me the following instance: The history of the conspiracy of Jean Louis de Fiesque,--[Author of “The Conspiracy of Genoa.” He was drowned on the 1st of January, 1557.]--which I had written at eighteen years of age, being conveyed by Boisrobert into the Cardinal’s hands, he was heard to say, in the presence of Marechal d’Estrees and M. de Senneterre, “This is a dangerous genius.” This was told my father that very night by M. de Senneterre, and I took it as spoken to myself.

The success that I had in the acts of the Sorbonne made me fond of that sort of reputation, which I had a mind to push further, and thought I might succeed in sermons. Instead of preaching first, as I was advised, in the little convents, I preached on Ascension, Corpus Christi Day, etc., before the Queen and the whole Court, which assurance gained me a good character from the Cardinal; for, when he was told how well I had performed, he said, “There is no judging of things by the event; the man is a coxcomb.” Thus you see I had enough to do for one of two-and-twenty years of age.

M. le Comte,--[Louis de Bourbon, Comte de soissons, killed in the battle of Marfee, near Sedan, in 1641.]--who had a tender love for me, and to whose service and person I was entirely devoted, left Paris in the night, in order to get into Sedan, for fear of an arrest; and, in the meantime, entrusted me with the care of Vanbrock, the greatest confidant he had in the world. I took care, as I was ordered, that he should never stir out but at night, for in the daytime I concealed him in a private place, between the ceiling and the penthouse, where I thought it impossible for anything but a cat or the devil to find him. But he was not careful enough of himself, for one morning my door was burst open, and armed men rushed into my chamber, with the provost at their head, who cried, with a great oath, “Where is Vanbrock?” I replied, “At Sedan, monsieur, I believe.” He swore again most confoundedly, and searched the mattresses of all the beds in the house, threatening to put my domestics to the rack if they did not make a disclosure; but there was only one that knew anything of the matter, and so they went away in a rage. You may easily imagine that when this was reported the Court would highly resent it. And so it happened, for the license of the Sorbonne being expired, and the competitors striving for the best places, I had the ambition to put in for the first place, and did not think myself obliged to yield to the Abbe de La Mothe-Houdancourt, now Archbishop of Auch, over whom I had certainly some advantage in the disputations. I carried myself in this affair more wisely than might have been expected from my youth; for as soon as I heard that my rival was supported by the Cardinal, who did him the honour to own him for his kinsman, I sent the Cardinal word, by M. de Raconis, Bishop of Lavaur, that I desisted from my pretension, out of the respect I owed his Eminence, as soon as I heard that he concerned himself in the affair. The Bishop of Lavaur told me the Cardinal pretended that the Abby de La Mothe would not be obliged for the first place to my cession, but to his own merit. This answer exasperated me. I gave a smile and a low bow, pursued my point, and gained the first place by eighty-four voices. The Cardinal, who was for domineering in all places and in all affairs, fell into a passion much below his character, either as a minister or a man, threatened the deputies of the Sorbonne to raze the new buildings he had begun there, and assailed my character again with incredible bitterness.

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The memoirs of Cardinal de Retz open not with a birth or a coronation but with a negotiation in progress. The reader is dropped into a council where the Duke of Bouillon urges caution with Spanish envoys, warning that 'the weakest should be very wary' even when offered carte blanche. This is a world of conditional promises and fragile alliances, where a courier can change everything with a cry of 'Good news!' as he enters the courtyard. Retz structures his account around such moments of tension—speeches, letters, and sudden arrivals—rather than chronological summary.

The Architecture of a Crisis

The excerpt reveals a narrative built on set-piece debates and dispatches. Retz does not simply report events; he reconstructs the arguments that preceded them. The Duke of Bouillon’s speech to the assembly is given in full, complete with rhetorical appeals to honour, security, and the danger of 'ill-concerted proceedings.' This is not a neutral chronicle but a dramatised account of decision-making. The reader is made to weigh the same considerations as the participants: the risk of Spanish betrayal, the unreliability of Parliament, the insufficiency of the army. Retz’s method is to let the characters speak at length, then show the consequences—often unexpected. The structure mirrors the uncertainty of the Fronde itself, where no plan survived contact with the next messenger.

The Courier as Plot Device

Movement between scenes is frequently triggered by the arrival of a courier. In the excerpt, a messenger enters 'crying, “Good news!”' and immediately shifts the balance of power. The letters he carries—for Madame de Bouillon, Mademoiselle de Bouillon, and Retz himself—announce that Turenne’s army has declared for the rebels. Retz highlights the improbability of this turn: Turenne, 'General of the King’s troops, one who was never a party man,' now acts against the Court. The author dwells on the mystery of Turenne’s motive, calling it 'a secret to this day.' This technique—introducing a dramatic reversal via a physical document—recurs throughout the memoirs. Letters, full powers, and carte blanche are not mere props; they are engines of the plot, each carrying the potential to dissolve or cement an alliance.

The Speaker’s Persona

Retz presents himself as a figure of calculated detachment. In the Duke of Bouillon’s speech, the Coadjutor (Retz) is described as one 'who has declared all along that he expects no advantage either from the present troubles or from any arrangement.' This self-characterisation—disinterested, trustworthy—is a strategic pose. The original preface notes that Retz 'knew how to put a good gloss upon his failings' and 'oftentimes verily believed he was really the man which he affected to be only in appearance.' The memoirs thus operate on two levels: the surface narrative of political manoeuvre, and the undercurrent of self-fashioning. Retz’s voice is that of a man who understands that reputation is a weapon, and he wields it with care, even when describing his own role in events that occurred decades earlier.

The Weight of Precedent

Retz’s narrative is punctuated by historical allusions that anchor the present crisis in earlier conflicts. When describing Turenne’s defection, he compares it to actions that 'Le Balafre and Amiral de Coligny would not have undertaken without hesitation.' A footnote identifies Le Balafre as the Duc de Guise who 'formed the League' and was assassinated in 1588. This reference is not decorative; it signals that Retz sees the Fronde as part of a recurring pattern of aristocratic rebellion against royal authority. The memoirs are filled with such backward glances—to the League, to the wars of religion—that give the narrative a layered temporality. The reader is never allowed to forget that the players are acting out roles scripted by earlier generations, and that the outcome may be equally violent.

Retz’s memoirs reward a reader attentive to the gaps between what is said and what is done. The speeches are polished, the letters precise, but the results are often chaotic. Pay attention to who speaks at length and who remains silent; to the documents that arrive and those that never come. The narrative is less a record of events than a performance of their uncertainty.

Reading Retz’s layered negotiations, I recalled winter evenings at my grandfather’s club, where plans shifted like stones on ice—not unlike the deliberate, quiet waiting in The Canadian Curler's Manual Or, an account of curling, as practised in Canada: with remarks on the history of the game — Reading Notes. Both books whisper that intentions rarely survive contact with the rink, or the court.