Loyalty versus Disillusionment in Between Two Kings

The Thematic Claim

In Between Two Kings, Lawrence Ellsworth's translation continues the Musketeers Cycle by pitting an older code of feudal devotion against the cold realities of a modernizing state. The novel argues that loyalty, when met with neglect and broken promises, curdles into a corrosive disillusionment that forces even the most steadfast servants to reclaim their autonomy. This tension plays out across multiple characters, but it crystallizes most sharply in d’Artagnan’s decision to resign his commission after decades of unrewarded service—a moment that ripples through the political landscape from the court of Louis XIV to the exiled Charles II.

D’Artagnan and the Architecture of Betrayal

A Career of Unrequited Devotion

The most devastating exploration of disillusionment arrives in Chapter XIV, when d’Artagnan confronts the young Louis XIV with a lifetime of grievances. The former Musketeer recounts his thirty-five years of service to the house of France, listing the battles fought and the missions accomplished for Richelieu, Louis XIII, Anne of Austria, and Mazarin. He reminds the king that he once guarded the royal bed while a mob stormed the Palais Royal—an act Louis himself admits remembering. Yet for all this, d’Artagnan has been systematically denied what he earned. Mazarin promoted him to Captain of the Musketeers as a reward for his English mission to Cromwell, only to revoke the commission once peace made d’Artagnan expendable. The cardinal’s pattern—giving and then taking away—embodies the cynicism that erodes the feudal bond.

Every reference in the chapter to d’Artagnan’s emotional state underscores a man at the end of patience. He speaks of the "bitter gall" amassed over thirty years, his martial bearing now carrying "a strange new character of solemnity and even grandeur." When the king parries with the word later, d’Artagnan retorts that he has "dined on the bounty of that word" for decades and will now answer only to now. The scene transforms a resignation into an indictment of how the monarchy has hollowed out the very concept of faithful service.

The Unspoken Complaints

Beneath the explicit grievances lie unspoken wounds. D’Artagnan alludes to having witnessed the king’s humiliation of his own brother Charles II, turned away by Mazarin’s ministry despite arriving in desperate need. For a soldier who nearly saved the executed Charles I, watching the new king become complicit in the abandonment of another crowned head deepens the disillusionment. The chapter positions d’Artagnan not merely as a disgruntled employee but as a man who sees the moral architecture of the monarchy crumbling. His decision to "have no master other than myself" is as much a philosophical break as a professional one.

The Pyrrhic Victory

The scene ends with Louis XIV granting the discharge while visibly struggling to suppress tears. The king recognizes what he is losing—"the best soldier in France"—yet cannot bring himself to offer the redress d’Artagnan requires. The moment is doubly tragic because both men understand the waste. Louis’s parting image of himself as the sun, "giving luster to some, warmth to others, and life to all," rings hollow against the cold reality of a room from which d’Artagnan simply picks up his hat and walks out. The lieutenant’s freedom is won, but at the cost of severing everything that gave his life meaning.

The D’Artagnan Paradox: Freedom and Its Limits

The Mercenary Aftermath

Liberation from the king’s service does not turn d’Artagnan into a purely self-interested adventurer, but it does transform his relationship to authority. Chapter XXXVII shows him disbursing gold to the rogues he has employed, a scene that exhibits both pragmatism and a strange paternalism. He pays them, warns them against loose talk, and even tries to redirect Menneville toward an honest life, offering "twice the pay of a ranking officer" so the man can afford to reform. Yet the narrator undercuts any tidy moral reading by noting that d’Artagnan himself probably leaked the story of the ventilated coffin: "who else could it have been?" The Gascon, freed from institutional loyalty, still operates by a personal code—loyalty to chosen friends, fairness in payment, discreet braggadocio—but he now sets the terms.

The Clash with Athos

The conversation that awaits d’Artagnan at the Hartshorn Inn in Chapter XXXII brings the theme into sharp relief through contrast. Athos, the Comte de La Fère, remains the novel’s embodiment of feudal honor. When d’Artagnan bitterly mocks the Bourbons as a "race of eagles" who are in fact miserly, Athos protests gently but is also "saddened" that a man of such merit should go unrewarded. The exchange between the two old friends maps the conflict: Athos mourns the breaking of an ancient bond that should have elevated d’Artagnan to the ranks of Luynes and Bassompierre, while d’Artagnan has already internalized the lesson that the bond was a fiction. Their friendship survives precisely because both men, despite diverging philosophies, continue to act with integrity toward one another.

Charles II: The Disillusionment of Exile

Parallel to d’Artagnan’s arc runs the story of Charles II, whose experience of broken promises extends across the English Channel. Chapter XV paints the exiled king in the aftermath of Louis XIV’s refusal, slumped in his chair at the Inn of The Médicis, "his head in his hands and his elbows on a table." The narrator describes his isolation in terms that transcend politics: "Mockery! All promises were mockery for Charles II, all but the cold, dark repose promised by death." The chapter frames this disillusionment as a continuation of trauma—Parry, his old servant, has now witnessed two generations of royal suffering. Yet crucially, Charles does not succumb. In later chapters when he finally meets General Monck, he summons the will to speak honestly, acknowledge the wrong done, and credit d’Artagnan’s "generous, even heroic devotion." Where d’Artagnan’s disillusionment leads to personal independence, Charles’s leads to a political maturity that will eventually restore him to his throne.

General Monck and the Antithesis of Self-Interest

The Man Who Cannot Be Bought

If d’Artagnan represents the slide from loyalty into pragmatic independence, General Monck represents its opposite: loyalty so rigid it borders on self-destruction. In Chapter XXIX, the captured general refuses to speak to Charles II, stroking his mustache with an "air of total impassivity." He has been kidnapped, humiliated, and offered a chance to align with the future king of England, yet his integrity will not bend. When Charles finally addresses him, the king recognizes a man whose sincerity is "entirely consistent with so grave and distinguished a man who had been humiliated so cruelly."

The Subtle Conversion

Monck’s eventual shift is not a betrayal of his principles but a recognition of something worthy of his loyalty. Charles II’s decision to forgo subterfuge and speak bluntly—to acknowledge the wrong done and praise d’Artagnan without dissembling—achieves what force could not. The encounter models a form of loyalty that is not feudal submission but earned respect. Monck’s subsequent actions in Chapter XXXI, where he resumes command with unflappable authority, demonstrate that his loyalty, once given, remains absolute. The soldiers who desert Lambert’s cause for Monck’s are drawn not by bribes but by the gravitational pull of a cause that has moral clarity. The Puritan troops find rebellion "sounded bad in pious ears" compared to Monck’s sober defense of the legitimate Parliament.

The King Who Learns the Lesson

Louis XIV’s Transformation

Mazarin’s death at the beginning of Chapter L marks a turning point not only for France but for the thematic arc of loyalty. The young king, who once let d’Artagnan walk out of his service over a matter of broken promises, now understands that power requires both "brains and brawn." His decision to recall d’Artagnan—the very man he could not keep—represents a grudging acknowledgment that loyalty must be answered with something more substantial than the word later. Colbert handles the intelligence and the treasury; d’Artagnan will be "his loyal sword." The chapter ends with Louis declaring himself "finally a true king," and the alignment of treasury, intelligence, and military force under his direct command suggests that the chaos born of neglected loyalty has taught him a lesson he will not forget.

The Unresolved Tension

Yet the novel refuses a tidy resolution. Louis’s recall of d’Artagnan is a calculated political move, not a gesture of friendship. The king has learned that loyalty requires maintenance, but he has learned it as a ruler, not as a man. Whether the veteran musketeer, who swore to serve "no other king on this earth," will return is left unanswered. The thematic claim endures beyond the final page: the old feudal contract is dead, and whatever replaces it—whether professional mercenary work or a more honest transaction between sovereign and servant—has not yet fully formed.

Symbols That Underscore the Theme

Mazarin's Ledger

Mazarin's meticulous records, referenced throughout the novel and culminating in the secret vaults of gold that Colbert inventories after the cardinal’s death, function as a symbol of the transactional state. Where feudal loyalty operated on oaths and honor, Mazarin’s France operates on ledgers, promissory notes, and revocable commissions. D’Artagnan’s promotion to Captain of the Musketeers—recorded, granted, and then struck from the books—is a ledger entry whose erasure encapsulates the dehumanization at the heart of the new order. Mazarin’s ledger becomes the antithesis of the Musketeers’ old motto of all-for-one.

The Ventilated Box Coffin

The wooden box with breathing holes, in which d’Artagnan transports Monck across the sea, literalizes the tension between coercion and survival. Monck emerges from the box unbowed, yet the indignity lingers. D’Artagnan reflects that he would "carve a dagger across" anyone who mocked him for such an ordeal, recognizing the profound humiliation that the box represents. The ventilated box coffin is the hardware of disillusionment: a device that strips a man of dignity while keeping him alive, not unlike the monarchy that keeps d’Artagnan fed but starved of honor.

Complexity and Contradiction

The theme resists simplification at every turn. D’Artagnan, for all his bitter words, does not actually despise the king. He kneels, he bows, and he leaves only because Louis commands him to "open the depths of my heart." His disillusionment coexists with a residual affection that makes the break more painful, not less. Athos, the paragon of feudal honor, sympathizes with his friend’s complaints and even admits that d’Artagnan’s name "ought to rank up there with the greatest." The Puritan Monck, whose loyalty seems absolute, is ultimately loyal to a principle rather than a person—and that principle itself is mutable when confronted with genuine royal integrity. Even Mazarin, the architect of so much broken faith, renders one final "great service" that he meticulously documents for posterity. The novel portrays a world where everyone is navigating the wreckage of feudal obligation and constructing new codes of loyalty on the fly.

Study Questions and Answers

1. Why does d’Artagnan specifically cite the revocation of his captaincy as a source of his disillusionment?

The captaincy represents more than a title. Mazarin gave it as a reward for a mission that "exceeded all expectations," then rescinded it the moment d’Artagnan was no longer politically useful. The revocation demonstrates that the monarchy’s promises are contingent on convenience, not on honor. For a soldier who defines himself by service, the message is devastating: his value is purely instrumental, and the institution he serves will discard him the instant that instrument is no longer required. The pattern of later that d’Artagnan denounces is the cumulative weight of many such revoked promises.

2. How does Charles II's disillusionment differ from d'Artagnan's?

Charles II's disillusionment is existential and dynastic rather than professional. Where d’Artagnan has been denied a rank and a pension, Charles has been denied a kingdom, a brother’s aid, and the basic dignity due a crowned head. His suffering at the Inn of The Médicis is described as a "deadly grief" familiar to all exiles. Yet their responses diverge: d’Artagnan reclaims his personal freedom by walking away, while Charles, lacking the luxury of walking away from his identity, must transform his despair into the political acumen that eventually allows him to speak to Monck with honesty and win the general’s respect.

3. What role does Athos play in the novel’s treatment of loyalty?

Athos serves as the living standard of feudal honor against which every other character’s compromises can be measured. When d’Artagnan mocks the Bourbons as miserly, Athos is "saddened" not because the accusation is false but because the world that should have rewarded his friend has failed to do so. His mission to Newcastle on behalf of Charles II, carried out without expectation of reward, mirrors d’Artagnan’s earlier service. Athos proves that the old code is not inherently foolish—it still produces noble action—but also that it cannot survive unchanged in an age of ledgers and revoked commissions.

4. How does General Monck’s behavior in Chapters XXIX and XXXI complicate the theme?

Monck initially appears as a figure of implacable loyalty to his cause, refusing to speak to Charles II even when the king offers an audience. Yet his loyalty is not to a person but to Parliament and principle. When Charles demonstrates genuine kingly virtue—honesty, magnanimity, the willingness to credit d’Artagnan’s devotion—Monck’s allegiance shifts. The novel suggests that the highest form of loyalty is not blind fealty but the intelligent recognition of worth. Monck’s soldiers, who desert Lambert for the better cause, confirm that loyalty flows toward moral legitimacy, not mere commands.

5. Does Louis XIV’s decision to recall d’Artagnan at the end of Chapter L resolve the novel’s central tension?

The recall resolves the practical problem—Louis needs a loyal sword and knows d’Artagnan is the finest available—but leaves the philosophical tension intact. Louis now understands that a king cannot govern with "brains" alone, and his alignment of Colbert’s intelligence network with d’Artagnan’s military skill suggests a more transactional but stable model of royal service. Whether d’Artagnan will accept the summons, and on what terms, remains an open question. The novel ends with the possibility that the new reign might learn from the old, but without pretending that the wounds inflicted by decades of broken promises can be healed by a single summons.