When the news of the murder of the two Guises became known in Paris, greatest public indignation was aroused; and the Sorbonne declared that France ought to strive earnestly against such a King. In order to save himself, the wretched King made overtures to Henri of Navarre, addressing him as “brother.” A reconciliation took place between them, and together they laid siege to Paris with an army of 40,000 men. Before, however, the assault took place, Henri III was murdered by a fanatic monk, designating with his last breath Henri of Navarre as his successor to the throne of France, but imploring him at the same time to embrace the Catholic Faith.

The crown thus devolved upon Henri de Bourbon, King of Navarre, as lineal descendant of Robert de Clermont, sixth son of Saint Louis; whilst Henri de Bourbon Condé, his cousin, became heir-presumptive. The health of the latter, however, began to fail, owing partly to an injury incurred by a fall from his horse, and partly to severe attacks of fever. Trusting to a partial recovery, he ventured too soon into the saddle, being, according to a contemporary writer, over-fond of riding, and in consequence suffered a relapse which ended fatally. Tifburn, the faithful custodian of the Château de Saint-Jean d’Angely, thus describes his unexpected death: “I was the person selected to report this sad mischance to the Princess, and I found her coming down the stairs of the large apartment to visit her husband. He had been ill, and had become worse since the day before, but none would have supposed the end was so near. When she saw me so downcast she pressed me to tell her what had occurred. When she heard the sad news she fainted, and had to be transported to her bed, where she sobbed and cried and would not be consoled.”

Henri IV, on hearing of this disaster, hastened to Saint-Jean d’Angely; but on the way information reached him that two of the Princesse de Condé’s servants—her page, Belcastle, and a valet—had suddenly disappeared, and that they had fled on two horses, kept in readiness for them by one Brillant, known to be a procurer employed at the castle. On hearing this, he turned the bridle of his horse, unwilling to interview the widowed Princess.

In a letter to la belle Corisande, Duchesse de Grammont, he writes regarding this incident as follows: “Jeudy, le Prince de Condé ayant couru la bague, il soupa se portant bien. A minuit lui prit un vomissement très violent, qui luy dura jusqu’au matin. Tout le Vendredy il demeura au lit. Le soir il soupa, et ayant bien dormi, il se leva le Samedi matin, dina debout, et puis joua aux eschecs. Il se leva, se mit a promener par sa chambre, devisant avec l’un et avec l’autre. Tant d’un coup il dit: ‘Baillez moi ma chaise, je sens une grande faiblesse.’ Il n’y fut assis qu’il perdit sa parole, et soudain après il rendit l’âme, et les marques du poison sortirent soudainement.”

When Brillant was interrogated, he denied everything, but under torture he made admissions which greatly compromised the widow of the dead Condé. Subsequent versions of the story stated first that the Catholic party had administered the poison; and later that the Prince had died a death in full accordance with the malady from which he was suffering. Nevertheless the poor Princess had to bear the burden of this terrible charge. She was allowed to remain in her own apartments only until she gave birth to a son, who was pronounced by all who saw him to greatly resemble the late Prince de Condé; and the fact that Henri ultimately consented to become godfather to the child destroyed all false accusations. For many years, however, she was kept under close guard at Saint-Jean d’Angely; and in the archives at Thouars there still exist some touching letters from her to her mother and to the Constable de Montmorency, asserting her innocence and imploring help. She also describes her straitened circumstances, her allowance being quite insufficient to supply the needs of her children, Eleonore and Henri. Throughout all her trials she behaved with singular fortitude, until at length, when her son Henri de Bourbon was recognised as the legitimate son of his father, and thenceforth held the position of heir-presumptive, she was allowed to return to Court. De Thou even obtained an order directing the French Parlement to come immediately to Saint-Germain to salute the Prince as heir to the throne until it should please God to give children to the King himself. Henri IV displayed considerable anxiety that his heir should receive the best possible education, and that he should embrace the Catholic Faith, as he himself had done. Thus the tradition of the Princes de Condé as Huguenot Princes was abruptly broken; and Charlotte Catherine de la Trémoille also abjured the Protestant Faith with great ceremony at Rouen. She then endeavoured to conciliate the Catholic party, but they never forgave her for the great services which she had rendered Condé at Guernsey.

In the preceding chapter we have related the matrimonial adventures of this Prince, and how when Henri IV fell passionately in love with his young wife, the beautiful Charlotte de Montmorency, he fled with her to the Netherlands to seek the protection of Eleonore, Princess of Orange, until the death of the King.[7]

On his return he became the principal factor in opposing the government of Richelieu, for he was highly dissatisfied that the Regency during the minority of Louis XIII had not passed to him, as premier Prince of the Blood, but had been seized upon by the Queen-Mother before he could reach France. The government of Berry was given to him with one and a half million of francs as a sort of compensation—which, however, did not satisfy him. Subsequently he was accused of having designs on the throne, and although this was not proved, Richelieu, in the name of the Regent, had him arrested. He was imprisoned in the Bastille and treated most rigorously as a State criminal. It is greatly to the credit of his wife that she volunteered to share his captivity. It was most touching how she arrived at the Bastille accompanied by her little dwarf, who refused to be separated from her. A journal[8] of that time states that the meeting of the Princess with her unfortunate husband was most affectionate, and that he repentantly asked her forgiveness for past wrongs.

Owing to his precarious state of health he was soon after removed to the Château of Vincennes, where he was allowed more liberty, and there he could take exercise on the top of a thick wall built in the form of a gallery. The poor Princess, once so radiant in beauty, suffered cruelly; and at the birth of a still-born son her life was despaired of.

At last, after nearly three years of imprisonment when her little daughter Geneviève de Bourbon was born, their prison-walls opened and they were free at last.

But presently Henri de Montmorency, the Princess’s brother, who had but recently succeeded his father as Lord of Chantilly, was thrown into a dungeon, whence he only emerged to be guillotined later at Toulouse. Unfortunately he had sided with Gaston, the King’s brother, in a conspiracy against the mighty Cardinal. In vain his wife, Marie Felice Orsini, pleaded for her husband. She herself was imprisoned for two years for doing so; and when finally released, retired for the rest of her life to a convent at Moulins, where she was known and much beloved as “Sister Marie.”

The whole property of the last Montmorency, the last scion of so illustrious a race, was confiscated after his execution, and Chantilly fell to the Crown. A house called La Cabotière, bearing to this day the Royal coat-of-arms, marks this transition period; and not far from it is the so-called Maison de Sylvie, which recalls Marie Felice Orsini. It was there that she and her husband hid the poet Théophile de Viau, who had been condemned to death; and from this retreat he sang in charming verses the beauty and the noble qualities of the Princess under the name of “Sylvie.”

These cruelties against the Montmorencys and the Condés, Louis XIII in after-years never ceased to regret, and when on his deathbed he wished to atone for them he summoned Henri II, Prince de Condé, and told him that Chantilly should be restored to his wife, the Princess, as sister of the last Montmorency. Thus Chantilly came back to its rightful owners.

CHAPTER III

THE GRAND CONDÉ

His father, Prince Henri II de Condé, thought it wise, after the execution of his brother-in-law Henri de Montmorency and his own imprisonment, to contract a matrimonial alliance with the all-powerful Cardinal; especially as Richelieu was obsessed by the desire that one of his nieces should become a Royal Princess. A marriage was therefore arranged between the twelve-year-old Duc d’Enghien and the little Claire-Clemence, then barely five. This mariage de convenance brought no happiness to the parties concerned, and ended in completely crushing the unloved wife. In a book recently published, “Sur la femme du Grand Condé,”[9] the excellent qualities of Claire-Clemence—so little appreciated during her lifetime—have been set out for us. At a court where women were chiefly given over to pleasure and amusement, it is but natural that soberer qualities such as hers should have passed unnoticed, or even have aroused opposition. Between her brilliant mother-in-law, Charlotte de Montmorency, and her beautiful but vain sister-in-law, Geneviève de Bourbon[10] (subsequently Madame de Longueville), to the courtiers of her time Claire-Clemence appeared to be lacking both in beauty and savoir-faire. A fall on the very day of her marriage, caused by her high heels when dancing a minuet which Anne of Austria had opened with the Duc d’Enghien, was recorded with great glee by the Grande Mademoiselle, daughter of Gaston d’Orléans. The prospects of this new establishment were not exactly promising, since Claire-Clemence received no support from her parents, whom she hardly knew. When her uncle, the Cardinal, decided to make an instrument of her to serve his purposes, he took her away from her egoistical and immoral father, the Maréchal de Brézé, and her sickly mother, who suffered from transitory attacks of madness. Claire-Clemence had been educated, therefore, in accordance with the high station for which she was intended. After her marriage Richelieu watched over her welfare and superintended arrangements by which she and her princely husband should have a suitable establishment in Paris; where, it was said, the young couple led un train de Prince.

Presently, however, the sharp-eyed Cardinal became aware that the Duc d’Enghien was neglecting his young wife, and was constantly in the company of the charming Marthe de Vigeau, of whom he had become wildly infatuated and whom he constantly met at the house of his sister. His Eminence, therefore, decided to send the young Duke to Burgundy, of which province he was supposed to be the Governor; and for Claire-Clemence he arranged a temporary retirement in the convent of Saint-Denis, there to escape the intrigues which would, as he said, naturally arise round a young wife so completely neglected by her husband. She was accompanied to the convent by a small Court, consisting of Madame la Princesse Douarière de Condé, Madame d’Aiguillon, Madame de Longueville, and Mademoiselle de la Croix. This last was her constant companion, and wrote to Richelieu that Her Serene Highness did everything in the convent which His Eminence desired her to do. In very truth she soon became a great favourite at Saint-Denis, where she did a great deal of good among the sick and poor.

Meanwhile the Duc d’Enghien, to annoy the Cardinal, led a very gay life in Burgundy, in obstinate defiance of the remonstrances of his father. Finally, he was compelled by Richelieu’s orders to leave Burgundy and join the Minister at Narbonne. There is no doubt that the Duc d’Enghien, inordinately proud by nature, was suffering keenly under the tyranny of the haughty Cardinal, who, although wishing his nephew-in-law well, derived a certain amount of satisfaction from the spectacle of this proud-spirited young Duke submissive to his yoke. The following incident is an illustration of this. It was a long-accepted fact that Cardinal Richelieu, as Prime Minister to his Majesty the King, should claim precedence over the Princes of the Blood Royal. But that Mazarin, just created Cardinal, should on his return from Italy also have this privilege was—the young Duc d’Enghien thought—most improper. Richelieu, on hearing of this, took up the cause of Mazarin, and even asked d’Enghien to visit his brother, the Cardinal of Lyons. D’Enghien, fearing that this Cardinal would also claim precedence over him at Lyons, merely sent one of his attendants to salute him. Richelieu was furious at this, would accept no excuse, and desired the Duke to purge his fault at Lyons, on his way back. D’Enghien, compelled by his father, the Prince de Condé, to submit to Richelieu’s demand, was greatly chagrined. Moreover, a message reached him immediately afterwards to join his wife at Paris, since she was ill. He was also informed that the details of his private life—in which he was the lover of many women but not the husband of the one woman who was his wife—were well known. So severe a reproof seemed at last to produce some effect upon him, and he returned to his wife, who quickly recovered her health and spirits when she found that her husband was kindly disposed towards her.

Richelieu, who had watched d’Enghien since his childhood, remembered the distinctions he had acquired as student at Bourges, and was shrewd enough to see that the young man would more than fulfil the high expectations placed in him. He therefore knew what he was doing when he allied the young Condé to his own family, and selected him and Henri de la Tour d’Auvergne (known in history as Turenne) as Commanders-in-chief of the French Army.

After the death of Richelieu, the King, Louis XIII, showed the high regard he cherished for his great minister by confirming and adhering to all the dispositions made by him before he passed away. Amongst these were the appointments of Condé and Turenne as Generals of the French troops sent to check the advancing forces of the Spaniards. It was a choice which showed the rare capacity of this remarkable minister in finding the right man for the right place. Turenne was thirty-one years of age, whilst Condé was but twenty-one. Marie de Medicis and her party thought Condé too young for so important a post, but Louis XIII was not to be dissuaded; and to Condé he gave the command of the army in Picardy.

This war had been going on between France and Spain for more than ten years. It revolved around those frontier regions to the north, near the Somme and the Oise, which divide the original possessions of the Kings of France from those of the former Dukes of Burgundy; and in 1643 it was carried on with great ardour by the Spaniards under their General, Don Francisco Melo, and his lieutenants, Fountain and Beck. With them the Duc d’Enghien was confronted near Rocroy. On the night before the battle the future hero was asleep amongst his soldiers on the bare ground when all at once a French horseman who had taken service amongst the Spaniards presented himself and asked permission to speak to the General. In a subdued voice he told him that the Spaniards had prepared an attack for seven o’clock that very morning. On hearing this Condé at once called for his horse, his arms, and the traditional hat with the white plume, which, since the time of Henri IV, had become the special badge of a Commander-in-chief of the French Army. The Duc d’Aumale, in his “Histoire des Princes de Condé,” relates with much spirit the issue of this battle. He tells us how Condé was at first repulsed by Isembourg, and then how, by a sudden change of tactics in attacking the rear, he reaped a complete victory.

The King, tossing upon a sick-bed, was full of anxiety regarding the issue of this war. He had had a dream, or rather a vision, which he narrated to the Prince de Condé (father of the Duc d’Enghien) who sat near his bedside. “I have,” he said in a faint voice, “seen your son advancing towards the enemy. The fight was sharp, and the victory was for a long time undecided; but at last it was ours.” These are said to have been the last words of Louis XIII.

A few days later, whilst the Requiem Mass for His Majesty was being sung at Saint-Denis, it became known that Louis de Bourbon, the Duc d’Enghien, had gained the battle of Rocroy, and from that time he bore the name of the “Grand Condé.” The flag taken on this occasion from the Spaniards may still be seen at Chantilly in the gallery where paintings by Sauveur Lecomte record his famous deeds. It is now reckoned amongst the most precious trophies of France, since most of those preserved at the Invalides were destroyed in 1814. All Paris desired to see the Spanish flag taken at Rocroy, and it was therefore exhibited publicly at the Louvre, at Notre Dame, and on the Quai. Congratulations poured in upon the Condés, and the Duc d’Enghien was pointed out as the hero who had won the first battle for the new four-year-old King. His father, full of pride, wished him to return to Paris to receive the ovations of the people; but, like a true strategist, the Duke was anxious before all else to reap the advantages of his victory. In a characteristic letter to his father, who was urging him to come home, he explained that the enemy had invaded France, and that he felt that he must remain at the head of his regiment in order to serve his country, at least as long as their foes were on French soil.

His next act was to attack Thionville on the Moselle, upon which occasion he succeeded in separating the troops commanded by Beck from the main army in the Netherlands, thus displaying a great example of military skill. It was, however, no longer from Louis XIII that he received his orders, but from Mazarin and the amiable but weak and irresolute Anne of Austria. Condé, in spite of his youth, had therefore to act on his own responsibility. In the spring of 1645 he won with Turenne the great battle of Nördlingen,[11] where he completely defeated the Austro-Spanish general Mercy.

The Duc d’Aumale, a military man of great distinction himself, speaks of the three victorious battles of Rocroy, Thionville, and Nördlingen as most important in their results, unblemished by any sort of reverse. He attributes to the Grand Condé all the qualities necessary for a great general: foresight in his preparations and a supreme ability to vary his tactics according to circumstances; great boldness and sudden inspiration during action; prompt decision and a far-reaching political outlook to confirm the victory and reap its fruits. It is rare indeed to discover all these qualities united in one man, and to find Condé’s equals we must look to men like Frederick the Great, Napoleon, and Wellington.

After the battle of Nördlingen, Condé fell ill of a fever, which compelled him at length to return to Chantilly. His mother, the Princesse Charlotte de Condé, his sister Geneviève, and his wife Claire-Clemence, with her little son the Duc d’Albret, whom he had not yet seen, welcomed him home. The historical “petite chambre” which he had always occupied was made ready for him, and “eau de Forges” to fortify his impaired strength. There he was invited to repose after the excessive fatigues of camp-life.

The attraction Condé had felt for Marthe de Vigeau when forced to marry the Cardinal’s niece had by this time passed away; and his plans for divorce in order to marry the woman he had so passionately adored had been definitely abandoned since the birth of his son Henri Jules. But he could not bring himself to show any affection to Claire-Clemence, who, during the long absence of her husband, had retired into the Convent of the Carmelites. It was a marriage into which he had been forced—a fact that he could not get over. Meanwhile Marthe de Vigeau had burnt his letters; had even gone so far as to burn his portrait; and, to make the sacrifice complete, had taken the veil and was henceforth known as “Sœur Marthe” in the same Carmelite Convent. But the Court was teeming with intriguing women who all wished to approach the young hero, around whose forehead laurels were now so thickly wreathed. Strong as Condé was in the field, he proved weak in the hands of an intriguing woman. In this he resembled his ancestor Louis I de Bourbon, whose name he bore. It was his beautiful cousin, Isabelle de Montmorency, who exercised the most pernicious influence over him. She had become the wife of Dandelot de Coligny, who for her sake had abjured the Protestant Faith. Ambitious to the extreme, she strove, after the death of her husband, to attract Louis XIV whilst still a youth, and after vainly trying to marry Charles II of England, she ended by marrying the Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin.

Two other well-known women also contrived to attract the Grand Condé, and with them he contracted a lifelong friendship. These were Louise Marie de Gonzague of Cleves, afterwards Queen of Poland, and her sister Anne, known as the Princess Palatine on account of her marriage with the son of the Elector Frederic V. Their portraits, by Dumoustier, can be seen at Chantilly. These Princesses de Gonzague, before their marriages, lived at Paris. Princesse Louise Marie held her Court at the Hôtel Nevers, a majestic building between the Tours de Nesle and the Pont Neuf, which afterwards became the Hôtel Conti, and is now the Palais de Monnaie. The two sisters were in their time leaders of Parisian society and played an important part amongst the women of the Fronde.

A letter, one of the last that Prince Henri II de Condé wrote to his son, refers to the neglect with which he treated his wife, and blames him severely for not writing to her upon the occasion of the sudden death of her only brother. It runs thus: “Mon fils, Dieu vous bénisse. Guérissez vous, ou il vaut mieux vous poignarder vous même, que de faire la vie que vous faites; je rien sais ni cause ni raison, et je prie Dieu de me consoler; je vous écris au désespoir, et suis Monsieur votre bon père et ami.” Soon afterwards the old Prince de Condé died and his last words and wishes were for the Duc and Duchesse d’Enghien. He, who had always held so high the honour of his own wife, had been a great support to Claire-Clemence in her trials. The title of Prince de Condé devolved at his father’s death upon the Grand Condé, whilst the little Duc d’Albret bore henceforth the title of Duc d’Enghien, rendered so celebrated by the victor of Rocroy.

But the Grand Condé did not stop here. In that same year (1648) he again won the great battle of Lens against the Austrians. In that battle it was said that he charged twelve times in one hour, took eight flags and thirty-eight cannon, and made 5,000 prisoners. The Emperor Ferdinand III, after this, felt his powers of resistance at an end and decided at last to agree to the Peace of Westphalia, which was signed at Münster, and brought to an end the famous Thirty Years’ War. By it France acquired the whole of Alsace except Strasbourg and Philipsbourg. Liberty of conscience, inaugurated by Henri IV, was also recognised throughout the rest of the world, and perfect equality of rights was enjoined between Roman Catholic and Protestant.

Anne of Austria received the hero of Rocroy and Lens with open arms, calling him her third son, and Louis XIV, the boy King, caressed him constantly. He felt that he was in peril, and he trusted to Condé to help him out of his difficulties. In order to improve finances exhausted by the lavish expenditure of the Court, Mazarin had committed the great mistake of forcing taxation upon all merchandise entering Paris. Parlement had refused to conform to this kind of taxation; but the Cardinal thought that this was the moment to again bring forward this claim. Upon the very day when the Te Deum was sung at Notre Dame for the victory of Lens, he chose to assail the leaders of the Parlement, amongst whom was the venerable Councillor Broussel. This was the signal for the breaking out of the Fronde, and a general rising of the people. Paul Gondi (subsequently known as Cardinal de Retz), at that time Archbishop of Paris, came in full state to entreat the Queen-Regent to appease the people. But Anne of Austria maintained that this was a revolt and that the King must enforce order, upon which the Archbishop himself joined the insurgents and even became one of their leaders. At last the Queen-Regent, frightened by the triumphs of Cromwell in England, gave in, and Broussel was released. To her intense chagrin, persons of the highest aristocracy had joined the Fronde; amongst them the Duchesse de Longueville, the Grand Condé’s own sister, the Duchesse de Bouillon, and others—all more or less vain women seeking notoriety. They endeavoured to gain Condé over to their side, but he resisted proudly, answering, when asked to join the Frondeurs: “I belong to a race that cannot identify itself with the enemies of the Crown.” Anne of Austria thought it wiser to leave Paris, and in great haste departed to Saint-Germain-en-Lay—an exodus which the Grande Mademoiselle has described in all its picturesqueness. On account of the suddenness of the departure no time had been given for the necessary preparations, and the young King and the Princesses de Condé, Charlotte de Montmorency, and Claire-Clemence, had to sleep on straw—an incident which Louis XIV never forgot.

Condé, however, blockaded Paris, overthrew the Fronde, and on the evening of August 18, 1649 the young King with the Queen-Regent, Condé, and Mazarin entered Paris and reached the Palais-Royal in safety. When Condé prepared to take his leave, the Queen turned to him and said, “Sir, the service you have rendered the State is so great that the King and I would be most ungrateful should ever we forget it!”

CHAPTER IV

CLAIRE-CLEMENCE, PRINCESSE DE CONDÉ

MAZARIN with difficulty restrained his impatience at numerous Royal favours bestowed on Condé. Indeed, whilst the latter was engaged in keeping the Army loyal, he agitated against him and did his utmost to undermine the confidence placed in him by the Queen-Regent. In this way the warrior and the priest soon became open adversaries. If it was hard for Condé to submit to the tyranny of Richelieu, still less could he put up with the haughty insolence of the Italian, who stood between him and his own Royal relations. It was natural, therefore, that he should become bitter and think himself insufficiently recompensed for the great services he had rendered to the King. All those members of the aristocracy who were likewise irritated against Mazarin gradually crowded round Condé, and he who had defeated the so-called Old Fronde now became the leader of the second, known as the Young Fronde. Mazarin, therefore, found an excuse for undermining the position of Condé and succeeded in making the Queen believe that the second Fronde, led on by Condé, was opposed to the Government. In order to counteract these false reports, the Prince came to the Palais-Royal to pay a formal visit to her Majesty, who was, however, ill in bed. His own mother (now the Dowager Princess), who had always been on terms of great intimacy with Anne of Austria, was then at her bedside. It was the last interview between Condé and his mother. Her Majesty seemed tired, and after a few words dismissed the Prince, who then proceeded to the Salle de Conseil, where Mazarin awaited him. There he found also his younger brother, Conti, and his brother-in-law, Monsieur de Longueville. Presently Mazarin under some pretext left the room, and no sooner had he gone than the captain of the Queen’s body-guard, Captain Quitaut, entered, and making his way towards Condé and the others, said, not however without embarrassment, “Gentlemen, I have the Queen’s orders to arrest you.” Condé for a moment seemed thunderstruck. Was this her Majesty’s gratitude for the victories he had gained against the enemies of France? Then, seeing that this arrest was intended in all seriousness, he addressed the group of councillors around him, saying, “Can you believe that I, who have always served the King so well, am now a prisoner?” For a space they all stood speechless. Presently someone offered to speak to the Queen, and all left the apartment. Then, since they did not return, Quitaut was compelled to carry out his orders. A door then was opened into a dark passage, and there appeared some of the King’s men-at-arms. Condé, his brother Conti, and M. de Longueville were overcome with amazement. It was indeed true! Mazarin had triumphed. They were transported then and there to the donjon of Vincennes, that self-same prison wherein Henri II de Condé, with his wife the beautiful Charlotte, had been secluded for three years.

The hour was past midnight when they reached the prison, and Condé found himself shut up in a cell whence little could be seen but a tiny patch of sky. He did not, however, lose his courage, and his spirit never seemed to forsake him, even though he was behind prison walls. One day he learned from the doctors who came to visit his sick brother Conti, that his wife Claire-Clemence was employing every effort she could to get him free. To while away his weary hours he took a fancy to cultivating flowers. “Is it not strange,” he said to the doctor, “that I should be watering carnations, whilst my wife is fighting!”

After her husband’s unforeseen imprisonment, Claire-Clemence was permitted to join the Dowager Princesse de Condé at Chantilly, since Mazarin looked upon her as harmless. It was rather Condé’s sister, Madame de Longueville, whom he feared, and whom he had intended to arrest with her husband. She, however, escaped in time, braving by night a terrible storm at sea, and joined Turenne, who helped her in her attempts to liberate the prisoners.

Nor did Claire-Clemence remain inactive. She consulted with Lenet, a great friend of the Condé family, who had come to Chantilly, on what course to adopt to set her husband at liberty. Rumours reached her that she would be separated from her son, at which she was greatly alarmed. Taking Lenet aside, she declared to him emphatically that she would never be separated from her only child; but that she intended, on the contrary, to conduct him at the head of an army to deliver his father. This indomitable courage on the part of Condé’s spouse was to be the first step in a course of action which later on contributed much to his eventual deliverance.

Meanwhile spring had come, and, in spite of the great misfortune which had befallen the Grand Condé, Chantilly became the resort of a crowd of visitors, who flocked round its brilliant châtelaine, Charlotte de Montmorency, Dowager Princesse de Condé. The young Duc d’Enghien took his morning rides on his pony, anglers with rod and line repaired to the ponds, gay parties of pleasure-seekers roamed over the lawns and along the avenues, and the woods resounded with the winding of the huntsman’s horn. In the evening the guests assembled in the splendid apartments of the castle to hear music, or listen to the many interesting tales related by the Dowager Princess, who loved above all else to dilate upon the attentions shown to her by Henri IV.

Soon, however, the visits to the Château of Lenet and of Madame de Châtillon, both of whom had played a prominent part in the Fronde, were reported at Court; and one day the Princesses were suddenly surprised by the sight of Swiss guards stationed around their dwelling, and Monsieur de Vauldy simultaneously arrived at the Château with special orders from the King himself. He first asked for the Dowager Princess and endeavoured to persuade her to leave Chantilly for Berry; which, however, she flatly declined to do. In despair, the envoy, who had orders from the King not to show force, then asked to see the Princesse Claire-Clemence. On being conducted into a bedchamber, a lady lying in bed was pointed out to him as the Princesse de Condé; and he was told that she was suffering from so severe a cold that she could not possibly leave Chantilly at once. Furthermore a child, also suffering in the same way, was shown to him as the young Duc d’Enghien. These persons were, however, in reality an English governess and the gardener’s son, for the Princess herself, with her son in her arms, had made good her escape by a pathway that had by chance been left unguarded. Some of her ladies and gentlemen followed her at a distance until she safely reached a spot in the woods where she found a carriage, which had been kept always ready for emergencies. In this conveyance, after a fatiguing journey, she reached Montroux, an old country-seat of the Condés, where the hero of Rocroy had passed his early youth. Thence she wrote to the Queen, stating that she had undertaken this journey to show obedience to the Royal commands, since she had been desired to leave Chantilly. Anne of Austria took this communication good-humouredly enough, and admired the pluck of the young mother, whilst everybody was amused at Vauldy’s discomfiture. At Montroux the Princess soon found herself surrounded by friends and partisans; and she succeeded in arousing enthusiasm by her easy and natural method of expression in speaking, which, upon occasions of importance, could rise to flights of real eloquence.

In order to be of service to the State and to the Prince, she decided to push on in the company of Lenet and Coligny to Bordeaux, whence the Duc de Bouillon came out to meet her. The Princess, mounted on a splendid charger named “Le Brézé,” which had come from her father’s stables, was received with Royal honours by Turenne, who defrayed all her expenses and those of her escort as far as Bordeaux.

Claire-Clemence and her supporters now decided to attack Mazarin openly for having imprisoned the Princes, but the Cardinal, getting wind of it, ordered the gates of Bordeaux to be shut in her face. The people of the city, however, revolted against such an injustice and opened the gates by force, crying, “Vive le Roi, et point de Mazarin.” It may be remarked here that the citizens of Bordeaux had every reason to be grateful to Condé for his kindness to them when, upon a previous occasion, they had revolted against their hated Governor, the Duc d’Epéron. The Princesse de Condé decided to approach the city by water, and as soon as her ship came in sight, it was saluted by a cannonade from eighty vessels, whilst more than twenty thousand people welcomed her at the landing-stage. The streets were adorned with flowers, and public enthusiasm was so great that she was compelled to show herself on the balcony of her palace until midnight to receive the ovations of the populace.

In order to secure the support of the Bordeaulese, Claire-Clemence resolved to present her petition before their Parlement in person. With great spirit, therefore, she made her way to the Chamber of the Councillors, accompanied by her son. “I come to demand justice of the King against the violence of Mazarin,” she said imploringly, “and I place my person and that of my son in your hands.” At the same time the little Duke, dropping on one knee, cried out: “Gentlemen, I implore you to assume the place of a father to me; since the Cardinal has deprived me of my own.” The whole assembly was deeply touched, and after some deliberation, the members of the Parlement agreed to extend to her their protection to the suppliants.

It would be superfluous to pursue here in full detail all the efforts made by Claire-Clemence at Bordeaux on behalf of her husband. The chief difficulty now was, however, that Mazarin, having treated Condé with such injustice and violence, was afraid to set him free; and he therefore even went so far as to entertain ideas of destroying him altogether. The Court, meanwhile, in spite of the events which were taking place at Bordeaux, had removed the Princes from the fortress of Vincennes to a prison at Havre; and at the same time ordered the Princess to leave Bordeaux and retire to Montroux. After distributing handsome gifts to all those who had befriended her, she departed with a numerous cortège, amid a shower of flowers; and on hearing that the Queen was at Bourg-sur-Mer, sought an interview with her. With her little son beside her, she fell upon her knees before Anne and begged for her husband’s freedom. Her Majesty’s answer was: “I am very glad, my cousin, that you at length recognise that you adopted a wrong course by which to get what you so intensely desire. But now that you seem to take another more fitting and more humble attitude I will see whether I can satisfy your request.”

To the united efforts of Claire-Clemence and of Condé’s devoted friend Lenet, there was also now added the powerful help of Anne de Gonzague, Princess Palatine, whose influence extended from Paris to Warsaw and even to Stockholm. She persuaded no less a person than Queen Christina of Sweden to plead for the Grand Condé’s liberty. Moreover, her sister, Marie de Gonzague, Queen of Poland, who had never ceased to be the hero’s devoted friend, also came to his aid with considerable effect.

Meanwhile France was rent by civil war, and Anne of Austria began to regret the loss of Condé’s strong arm, which had done so much for her infant son, Louis XIV. The disorder, in fact, became so great and the clamour for Condé’s liberation so imperative, that Mazarin was compelled to proceed to Havre with an order under the Queen-Regent’s sign-manual for his unconditional release. The Cardinal entered the cell wherein the Princes were confined in his travelling attire and himself announced to them that their captivity was at an end. Whereupon compliments were exchanged and healths drunk; Mazarin even privately affirming to Condé that it was not to him that he owed his long imprisonment. A carriage was in waiting for the liberated prisoners, and Mazarin, taking his leave of them, bowed so low as to create unbounded mirth amongst those present. Then he himself departed into exile; whence, however, it was not very long ere he returned.

All Paris turned out to welcome Condé, and no less than 5,000 cavaliers, the flower of the French aristocracy, went out to meet the Princes at Saint-Denis. They were conducted by Gaston d’Orléans to the Palais-Royal, where they were received by the Queen-Regent and the young King, who welcomed them with his accustomed warmth, as if nothing had occurred. In the evening a supper was given in their honour by Monsieur the King’s uncle, and a ball by the Duchesse de Chevreuse. Next day a solemn session of the Parlement took place, and for several nights Paris was brilliantly illuminated.

The young Princesse de Condé came from Montroux, accompanied by the Ducs de Bouillon and de Rochefoucauld, and the Prince, who appreciated to the full all that she had done for him, endeavoured to show his gratitude. He met her with a train of twenty carriages to accompany her entry into Paris; and nothing could have touched the Princess’s heart more profoundly than to hear the crowds along the road repeat: “Voici une femme fort chèrie de son mari.” It testified to the sympathy held by the public for this long-neglected wife.

From Paris the reunited pair proceeded to Chantilly, where festivities and hunting-parties followed fast one upon another. Condé, however, felt bound to claim a certain amount of recompense for the great wrong which had been done to him. He demanded for himself the Governments of Burgundy and Champagne, besides other rewards for his friends de Rochefoucauld and Nemours. At first the Queen-Regent promised everything, but presently, upon the remonstrance of the exiled Mazarin, went back on her word.

This was sufficient to enrage Condé once more, and a report spread that amid the rural charms of Chantilly he had opened negotiations with Spain. Gondi, Archbishop of Paris, anxious to obtain a scarlet hat for himself, went secretly to the Queen, and knowing that Her Majesty was lamenting Mazarin’s absence, promised her that he and Gaston d’Orléans would bring the Cardinal back from exile if Condé were once more arrested. Condé, although his freedom was so recent, felt insecure and retired with his wife and son to Saint-Maur, where Madame de Longueville joined them; so that he was not present when Louis XIV was proclaimed King, but was holding council with his adherents at Chantilly. “Il faut pousser M. le Prince” was a stock saying of Mazarin and Gondi (now Cardinal de Retz), both of whom were endeavouring to goad Condé to his own destruction.

Louis II de Bourbon, Prince de Condé, along with his many great qualities, had unfortunately inherited also all the faults of the Condés—faults which the Duchesse de Nemours (daughter-in-law of his sister, Madame de Longueville) describes as follows: “Ils avaient des airs si moqueurs, et disaient des choses si offensentes que personne ne les pouvaient souffrir ... quand on leurs déplaisait ils poussaient les gens jusqu’a la dernière extremité, et ils n’etaient capable d’aucune reconnaissance pour les services qu’on leurs avait rendu.” These were the qualities which at this period of his life turned the scale against him. It was not against France or the King that Condé proposed to fight, but against the Italian Cardinal, the trusted confidant of Anne of Austria; and his grievance was that he had not only been deprived of his liberty, but that attempts had even been made upon his life. It was for that reason that Condé did not take part in any of the festive celebrations held at the King’s Proclamation, and he made his excuses in a letter presented to the King by his brother, the Prince de Conti. This was unquestionably a great blunder, and was done against his wife’s wishes, who had given such great proofs of devotion and courage.

On September 13, 1651 Condé retired to Montroux, where his sister, Madame de Longueville, and the leaders of his party triumphed over his last scruples. It was then that he pronounced the famous words: “Vous me forcez à tirer l’epée,—eh bien! soit! mais souvenez vous que je serai le dernier à la remettre dans le fourreau.”

CHAPTER V

CONDÉ’S ALLIANCE WITH SPAIN

CONDÉ’S alliance with Spain against Mazarin was the immediate cause of another civil war in France. The Prince left his wife and son in Bordeaux, where, as we have said, they had already acquired much personal popularity. The history of this town and of its Parlement is of considerable interest. In 1653 the people of Bordeaux sent envoys to England to inquire into the details of the Revolution under Cromwell; whereby we may note what strong Liberal tendencies had already manifested themselves in this place, even at the beginning of the reign of Louis XIII. More than once the townspeople had shown a spirit of rebellion against the Government, and they had espoused, as we have seen, the cause of the Princes against Mazarin during the second Fronde. When the Princesse de Condé returned thither with her husband, she found, to her surprise, that a Republican spirit had developed amongst her former friends, and that they wished to see in Condé an ally rather than a chief. Nor did Condé, although a Prince of the Blood, and well known for his pride of birth, object to signing a Declaration before the Parlement of Bordeaux, whereby he promised not to lay down his arms until he had obtained for his country the following concession, namely: “That the supreme authority should in future be given to a representative of the people, chosen by free men, who were of age and entitled to the vote.”

Mazarin, at the head of a small army, had joined the King at Poitiers, whilst the city of Paris, left under the command of Gaston d’Orléans and the Paris Parlement, declared Condé guilty of high treason. On hearing this the Prince made a desperate effort to reach Paris, and with the help of the Grande Mademoiselle (Gaston’s notorious daughter), who boldly opened the gates to him, he entered the town with his troops at the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, making himself for a moment master of the situation. Unfortunately, however, the bloodshed which took place on this occasion rendered his cause most unpopular, and, finding himself abandoned by the populace, he was soon obliged to retreat before Turenne. Whereupon the young King, accompanied by Mazarin, re-entered the capital and succeeded in controlling it.

Bordeaux meanwhile continued to assert itself as a Republic. There were two parties fighting against one another—the rich bourgeoisie struggling against the lower classes. Claire-Clemence, who was still resident amongst them, strove to make peace between these two parties, but in the middle of it all her health broke down and she was obliged to retire, leaving to Condé’s brother Conti and to his sister, Madame de Longueville, the task of managing public affairs. On hearing, however, that the Chapeau-Rouge party,—that is to say, the rich bourgeoisie,—had actually opened fire upon their rivals, she again made her appearance, accompanied by Lenet and Ormée, the head of the popular party and succeeded in bringing about a peaceful settlement.

Shortly after this, on September 20, 1652, the Princesse de Condé gave birth to another son, to whom was given the name of Louis Bordeaux. The whole city was decorated to celebrate this auspicious event; and there still exists in the archives at Chantilly a letter of Condé’s, wherein he writes as follows: “J’ai une extrême joie de l’accouchement de ma femme; elle serait parfaite si elle se portait bien, et si j’étais assuré son enfant dût vivre.”

Unfortunately, however, Claire-Clemence found herself unable to recover her former strength, and it was terrible news for her that her husband, alone and bereft of his adherents, had left Paris and had even accepted the post of General-in-Chief in the Spanish army. She had stood beside him in his fight against Mazarin and a treacherous and faithless Court; but Richelieu’s niece could not get over the fact that the “Hero of Rocroy” had actually gone over to the enemy. To fill her cup of tribulation Condé found himself in terrible financial difficulties since he had to feed his own troops whilst receiving insufficient support from his allies, the Spaniards, who were themselves unable to offer him material aid. In despair he wrote to Lenet: “Have my silver and plate melted down, and tell my wife to pawn her jewellery. She will, I am sure, not object, nor will my sister refuse to do the same. Borrow wherever you can, and do not hesitate to pay high interest. I am so much in want of money that I do not know what to do.... Sell everything, even to my landed property.”

This was certainly bitter news for the wife of the Grand Condé, and, at the same time, she endured the heavy sorrow of losing her infant son, Louis Bordeaux. In order to provide her husband with necessary material help she ordered her own mode of living with strictest economy and reduced her household. But Madame de Longueville and Conti, realising that their brother was engaged in a hopeless cause, presently left Bordeaux; and the latter, becoming reconciled with Mazarin, not long after married one of his nieces.