Armand de Bourbon, Prince de Conti, born in 1629, was eighteen years of age in 1647. He had good intellect and a not unpleasant countenance; but a slight deformity and a certain feebleness of constitution rendering him unfit for the army, he was early destined for the church. He had studied among the Jesuits at the college of Clermont with Molière, and his father had obtained for him the richest benefices, and demanded a cardinal’s hat. While waiting for this hat dignity, Armand de Bourbon was living at the Hôtel de Condé, partly an ecclesiastic, partly a man of the world, passing his days with wits and men of fashion, and greedy of every species of success. The glory of his brother filled him with emulation, and he dreamed himself of warlike exploits. When his sister returned from Germany, he went to meet her, and, dazzled by her beauty, her grace, and her fame, he began to love her rather as a gallant than as a brother. He followed her blindly in allher adventures, in which he exhibited as much courage as volatility. When he had made his peace with the Court—thanks to his marriage with a niece of Mazarin, the beautiful and virtuous Anne-Marie Martinozzi—he obtained the command-in-chiefship of the army of Catalonia, in which capacity he acquitted himself with great honour. He was much less successful in Italy. On the whole, he was far from injuring his name, and he gave to France, in the person of his young son, a true warrior, one of the best pupils of Condé, one of the last eminent generals of the seventeenth century. Constrained, through ill-health, to betake himself again to religion, the Prince de Conti finished, where he had begun, with theology. He composed several meritorious and learned works on various religious subjects.
In 1647, he was entirely devoted to vanity and pleasure. He adored his sister, and she exercised over him a somewhat ridiculous empire, which continued during several years.
FOOTNOTES:[44]In which the Hôtel de Rambouillet was situate.[45]Petitot Collection, vol. li. p. 393.[46]Mad. de Motteville, vol. ii. p. 17.[47]At a later period, after he had lost his sight from a pistol-shot received at the combat of the Porte St. Antoine during the Fronde, and had quarrelled with the Duchess, he parodied his own distich,—“Pour ce cœur inconstant, qu’enfin Je connais mieux,J’ai fait la guerre au roi; J’en ai perdu les yeux.”
[44]In which the Hôtel de Rambouillet was situate.
[44]In which the Hôtel de Rambouillet was situate.
[45]Petitot Collection, vol. li. p. 393.
[45]Petitot Collection, vol. li. p. 393.
[46]Mad. de Motteville, vol. ii. p. 17.
[46]Mad. de Motteville, vol. ii. p. 17.
[47]At a later period, after he had lost his sight from a pistol-shot received at the combat of the Porte St. Antoine during the Fronde, and had quarrelled with the Duchess, he parodied his own distich,—“Pour ce cœur inconstant, qu’enfin Je connais mieux,J’ai fait la guerre au roi; J’en ai perdu les yeux.”
[47]At a later period, after he had lost his sight from a pistol-shot received at the combat of the Porte St. Antoine during the Fronde, and had quarrelled with the Duchess, he parodied his own distich,—
“Pour ce cœur inconstant, qu’enfin Je connais mieux,J’ai fait la guerre au roi; J’en ai perdu les yeux.”
THE DUCHESS DE CHEVREUSE DRIVEN INTO EXILE FOR THE THIRD TIME.
Whenin the summer of 1644, the Queen of England, the fugitive consort of Charles I., sought an asylum in France from the fury of the English parliamentarians, and went to drink the Bourbon waters, Madame de Chevreuse eagerly desired to see once more that illustrious princess, who had so warmly welcomed her when herself an exile, at the Court of St. James’s. Queen Henrietta, too, who like her mother, Marie de’ Medici, as well as the Duchess, was of the Spanish and Catholic party, would have been delighted to have mingled her tears with those of so old and faithful a friend. But the royal exile did not deem it right to give way to her inclination without Queen Anne’s permission, who at that moment was according her such noble hospitality. Anne of Austria politely replied that the Queen, her sister, was perfectly free to act as she chose; but it was intimated to her, through the Chevalier de Jars, that it was inexpedient to receive the visit of a person who, through misguided conduct, had forfeited Her Majesty’s favour. This fresh disgrace, added to so many others, increased the Duchess’s irritation to the highest pitch. She redoubled her efforts to break the yoke that oppressed her. Mazarin watched and was made acquainted with all her manœuvres. He had the comptroller of her householdarrested in Paris, and shortly afterwards even her physician, whilst accompanying Madame de Chevreuse’s daughter in her carriage for an airing. The Duchess complained bitterly of this latter proceeding in a letter which she contrived to have handed to the Queen. She asserted that Mademoiselle de Chevreuse was forced to quit the vehicle, two archers levelling their pistols at her breast, and shouting all the while—“Fire! fire!” and they threatened, after the same fashion, the female attendants who were with her. At the same time that she protested her own innocence, she did not fail to challenge Anne’s sense of justice, with a view to neutralize the enmity of Mazarin. But the physician whom he had had arrested, on being flung into the Bastile, made avowals which opened up traces of very grave matters; and an exempt of the King’s guards was despatched to Madame de Chevreuse with an order commanding her to retire to Angoulême, and the officer was even charged to convey her thither. At Angoulême was that strong fortress used as a state prison, in which her friend Châteauneuf had been confined on her account for ten long years. This reminiscence, ever present to the Duchess’s imagination, terrified her sorely. She dreaded lest it should be the same sort ofretreatwhich they now intended for her; and the active-minded woman, preferring every kind of extremity to being imprisoned, decided upon renewing the career of a wanderer and an adventurer, as in 1637, and to tread for the third time the wearisome paths of exile.
But how greatly were circumstances then changed around her, and how changed was she also herself! Her first exile from France in 1626, had proved one continuous triumph. Young, lovely, and adored by every one, she had quitted Nancy, leaving the Duke de Lorraine a slave henceforwardto the sway of her charms, only to return to Paris and trouble the mind of the stony, impassive Richelieu. In 1637 her flight into Spain had, on the contrary, proved a most severe trial to her. She had been forced to traverse the whole of France disguised in male attire, brave more than one danger, endure much suffering and privation, only to struggle in the sequel with five consecutive years of fruitless agitation. But, at any rate, she then had youth to back her, and the consciousness of the power of that irresistible fascination which procured her adorers and suitors wherever she wandered, even among the occupants of thrones. She had faith likewise in the Queen’s friendship, and a firm reliance that the time would come when that friendship would repay her for all her devotedness. But now age she felt was creeping upon her; her beauty, verging towards its decline, promised her henceforward conquests only few and far between. She perceived that in losing her power over Anne of Austria’s heart, she had lost the greater portion of her prestige both in France and Europe. The flight of the Duke de Vendôme, shortly about to be followed by that of the Duke de Bouillon, left theImportantswithout any chief of note. The Duchess had found Mazarin to be quite as skilful and formidable an enemy as Richelieu. Victory seemed to have entered into a compact with him. De Bouillon’s own brother, Turenne, solicited the honour of serving him, and the young Duke d’Enghien won battle after battle for him. She knew also that the Cardinal had that in his hands wherewith he could condemn and sentence her to incarceration for the rest of her days. When, however, almost every one forsook her, this extraordinary woman did not give way to self-abandonment. As soon as the exempt Riquetti had signified to her the order of whichhe was the bearer, she adopted measures with her accustomed promptitude, and, accompanied by her daughter Charlotte, who had hastened to her mother and refused to quit her, she succeeded in reaching by cross-roads the thickets of La Vendée and the solitudes of Brittany; until, approaching within a few leagues of St.-Malo, she solicited an asylum at the hands of the Marquis de Coetquen. That noble and generous Breton gave her the hospitality which was due to such a woman struggling against such adversity. Marie de Rohan did not abuse it; and after placing her jewels in his hands for safety, as she had formerly done in those of La Rochefoucauld,[48]she embarked with her daughter in the depth of winter at St.-Malo, on board a small vessel bound for Dartmouth, whence she purposed crossing over to Dunkirk and entering Flanders. But the English parliamentarian men-of-war were cruising in the Channel. They fell in with and captured the wretched little bark, and carried her into the Isle of Wight. There Madame de Chevreuse was recognised; and as she was known to be a friend of the Queen of England, the Roundheads were not loth to subject her to sufficiently rough treatment; and afterwards hand her over to Mazarin. Fortunately, in the Governor of the Isle of Wight, she met with the Earl of Pembroke, whom she had formerly known. The Duchess appealed to his courtesy,[49]and thanks to his good offices, she obtained—but with no little difficulty—passports which permitted her to gain Dunkirk, and thence the Spanish Low Countries.
The adventurous exile took up her abode for a short time at Liège, and applied herself to maintain and consolidate to the utmost degree possible between Spain, Austria, and the Duke de Lorraine, an alliance, which was the final resource of theImportants, and the last basis of her own political reputation and high standing. Mazarin, however, having got the upper hand, resumed all Richelieu’s designs, and, like him, made strenuous efforts to detach Lorraine from his two allies. The gay Duke was then madly enamoured of the fair Beatrice de Cusance, Princess of Cantecroix. Mazarin laboured to gain over the lady, and he proposed to the ambitious and enterprising Charles IV. to break with Spain and march into Franche-Comté with the aid of France, promising to leave him in possession of all he might conquer. The Cardinal succeeded in winning over to his interest Duke Charles’s own sister (the former mistress of Puylaurens), the Princess de Phalzbourg, then greatly fallen from her former “high estate,” and who gave him secret and faithful account of all that passed in her brother’s immediate circle. Mazarin required of her especially to keep him apprised of Madame de Chevreuse’s slightest movement. He knew that she was in correspondence with the Duke de Bouillon, that she disposed of the Imperial general Piccolomini by means of her friend Madamede’ Strozzi, and even that she had preserved intact her sway over the Duke de Lorraine, in spite of the charms of the fair Beatrice. By the help of the Princess de Phalzbourg he watched every step, and disputed with her, foot to foot, possession of the fickle Charles IV., sometimes the victor, but very often the vanquished in this mysterious struggle.
The advantage remained with Madame de Chevreuse. Her ascendancy over Charles IV.—the offspring of love, surviving that passion, but more potent than all the later loves of that inconstant Prince—retained him in alliance with Spain, and frustrated Mazarin’s projects. By degrees she became once more the soul of every intrigue planned against the French Government. She did not always attack it from without, but fostered internal difficulties, which, like the heads of the hydra, were unceasingly springing forth. Surrounded by a knot of ardent and obstinate emigrants, among others by the Count de Saint-Ybar, one of the most resolute men of the party, she kept up the spirits of the remnant of theImportantsleft in France, and everywhere added fuel to the fire of sedition. Actuated by strong passion, yet mistress of herself, she preserved a calm brow amidst the wrack of the tempest, at the same time that she displayed an indefatigable activity in surprising the enemy on his weak side. Making use alike of the Catholic and the Protestant party, at times she meditated a revolt in Languedoc, or a descent upon Brittany; at others, on the slightest symptom of discontent betrayed by some person of importance, she laboured to drive out Mazarin.
FOOTNOTES:[48]Subsequently, she requested the Marquis de Coetquen to hand over her jewels to Montrésor, who transferred them to a messenger of the Duchess. But Mazarin was informed of everything from first to last. He was aware of every tittle of the Duchess’s correspondence, and tried to seize with the strong hand the famous gems which had formerly belonged to Marie de’ Medicis’ favourite foster-sister, Leonora Galligaï, created Marchioness d’Ancre. On the murder of the Marshal d’Ancre, these diamonds andparures, valued at two hundred thousand crowns, with a vast amount of other property confiscated by an edict of Louis XIII., were bestowed by the king on his lucky favourite, De Luynes, the first husband of Marie de Rohan. Failing in his attempt to possess himself of these costly gems, Mazarin arrested Montrésor, and kept him upwards of a year in prison. See “Memoirs of Montrésor.”[49]See her letter to the Earl of Pembroke, dated Isle of Wight, 29th April, 1645, in “Archives des Affaires Étrangères, France,” t. cvi. p. 162.
[48]Subsequently, she requested the Marquis de Coetquen to hand over her jewels to Montrésor, who transferred them to a messenger of the Duchess. But Mazarin was informed of everything from first to last. He was aware of every tittle of the Duchess’s correspondence, and tried to seize with the strong hand the famous gems which had formerly belonged to Marie de’ Medicis’ favourite foster-sister, Leonora Galligaï, created Marchioness d’Ancre. On the murder of the Marshal d’Ancre, these diamonds andparures, valued at two hundred thousand crowns, with a vast amount of other property confiscated by an edict of Louis XIII., were bestowed by the king on his lucky favourite, De Luynes, the first husband of Marie de Rohan. Failing in his attempt to possess himself of these costly gems, Mazarin arrested Montrésor, and kept him upwards of a year in prison. See “Memoirs of Montrésor.”
[48]Subsequently, she requested the Marquis de Coetquen to hand over her jewels to Montrésor, who transferred them to a messenger of the Duchess. But Mazarin was informed of everything from first to last. He was aware of every tittle of the Duchess’s correspondence, and tried to seize with the strong hand the famous gems which had formerly belonged to Marie de’ Medicis’ favourite foster-sister, Leonora Galligaï, created Marchioness d’Ancre. On the murder of the Marshal d’Ancre, these diamonds andparures, valued at two hundred thousand crowns, with a vast amount of other property confiscated by an edict of Louis XIII., were bestowed by the king on his lucky favourite, De Luynes, the first husband of Marie de Rohan. Failing in his attempt to possess himself of these costly gems, Mazarin arrested Montrésor, and kept him upwards of a year in prison. See “Memoirs of Montrésor.”
[49]See her letter to the Earl of Pembroke, dated Isle of Wight, 29th April, 1645, in “Archives des Affaires Étrangères, France,” t. cvi. p. 162.
[49]See her letter to the Earl of Pembroke, dated Isle of Wight, 29th April, 1645, in “Archives des Affaires Étrangères, France,” t. cvi. p. 162.
FATAL INFLUENCE OF MADAME DE LONGUEVILLE’S PASSION FOR LA ROCHEFOUCAULD.—THE FRONDE.
Wedo not propose to enter into the labyrinth of intrigues which preceded the outbreak of the Fronde, but confine ourselves to an endeavour to trace the motives which led Madame de Longueville to throw herself into the centre of the malcontents and to figure as the chief heroine in the varied scenes of that tragi-comedy of civil war.
The first Fronde was formed out of thedébrisof theImportants. It was composed of all the malcontents who made common cause with those members of the parliament who were irritated by the frequent bursal edicts, notably that which, in 1648, created twelve new appointments ofmaîtres de requêtes.
And now what gave birth to the Fronde, or what sustained it? What roused up the old party of theImportants, stifled for some years, it would seem, under the laurels of Rocroy? What separated the princes of the blood from the Crown? What turned against the throne that illustrious house of Condé, which, until then, had been its sword and shield? There were doubtless many general causes for all this; but it is impossible for us to conceal one—private, it is true, but which exercised a powerful and deplorable influence—the unexpected love of Madame de Longueville for one of the chiefs of theImportants, who had become oneof the chiefs of the Fronde. Yes—sad to say—it was Madame de Longueville, who, joining the party of the malcontents, attracted thereto, at first, a part of her family, then her entire family, and thus precipitated it from the pinnacle of honour and glory to which so many services had elevated it.
Scarcely had the treaty of Münster suspended the scourge of foreign war for France, than internal dissensions began to trouble the realm. The hatred which the Parliament bore to Mazarin, through his repression of its functions, primarily gave birth to civil war. The Duchess de Longueville became in the faction of the Fronde what the Duchess de Montpensier had been in that of the League. The former, however, did not at first attach so great an importance to the cause she espoused. Characteristically careless, she was by nature little inclined to agitation and intrigue. We have already shown that before herliaisonwith La Rochefoucauld, Madame de Longueville had been a stranger to politics. Occupied solely with innocent gallantry and the homage of the most refined society of the day, she allowed herself in all else to be led by her father and her elder brother. But no sooner was La Rochefoucauld master of her heart, than she gave herself wholly up to him, and became a mere instrument in his hands. Having been by him inspired with ambition, she made it a point of honour, and doubtless a secret happiness, to share his destiny.
It seems not improbable that the Duchess might have caught a liking for politics and negotiation during the conference of Munster. Certain it is that once plunged into the eddying tide of the Fronde, she loftily announced the project of remedying the general disorder of affairs. But she especially desired to employ therein the means whichconfer celebrity, and it is difficult to deny that ambition, although without determinate aim, and the desire of establishing a high opinion of her intellect, may have had some share in the reasons which induced her to embrace the party opposed to Mazarin. With herself she drew her husband into it, as well as the Prince de Conti, her younger brother. As for the elder, the victorious Condé, he at first declared for the King and the Queen-Regent, which greatly incensed his sister against him, and caused her to enter into close compact, amongst others, with the Coadjutor, afterwards Cardinal de Retz—that mischievous man who figured so conspicuously as the evil genius of the Fronde.
The Gondis, who were the chief advisers of the St. Bartholomew, owed to that terrible exploit the result of being very nearly the hereditary possessors of the Archbishopric of Paris. But this last Gondi—John Francis Paul—owed something more: to be at the same time governor of Paris, and to unite both powers. With such purpose, he artfully worked upon the city through the curates who, distributing bread, soup, and every other kind of alms, carried along with them the famished masses. This young ecclesiastic of the de Retz family had risen into great favour with the serious and religious sections of the Parisian community. He was nephew of the Archbishop of Paris, and was himself Archbishop of Corinth; but as his flock in that metropolitan city were schismatic (except those who had turned Turks), he had leisure to assist his uncle in his high office, and was appointed his Coadjutor and successor. He preached at all the churches, held visitations at the convents, catechised the young, and consulted with the senior clergy on the management of the diocese. When he rode through the streets he was saluted with cheers and blessings,and the orators of the Fronde held him up as the pattern of all the Christian virtues. At night he put off his episcopal robes, disguised himself as a trooper or tradesman, and attended the meetings of the discontented. In a short time he had distributed seven or eight thousand pounds in stirring up the passions of the people, and was daily in expectation of being summoned by his patroness the Queen to exert his influence in quelling them. The populace, with an Archbishop-governor of Paris at their head, imagined that they were going to rule there as in the time of the League. This made them both blind and deaf to the morals and manners of the little prelate. A braggart, a duellist, and more than a gallant—though having swarthy, ugly features, turned-up nose, and short, bandy legs—yet his expressive eyes carried off every fault, sparkling as they were with intelligence, audacity, and libertinage. Few withstood this subtle knave, for he was wont to waive all ceremonial and spare everybody prefatory speeches. The ladies of gallantry—especially those whose lover he was—were his most indefatigable political agents. The Queen, at length, suspecting that the worthy Archbishop was not quite the simple and self-denying individual he appeared, had him watched and followed. Whilst he flattered himself with the anticipation that his assistance would be solicited at the Palais Royal, the Queen was making a jest of him, and Mazarin determined to strike the blow.
On the 27th of August, 1648, a vast assemblage crowded the spacious precincts of Notre Dame, to celebrate aTe Deumfor the great victory of Lens, of which the youthful Condé had just sent home the news. When the multitude were dispersing, a dash was made upon two or three of the obnoxious councillors who had inflamed the discussions ofthe Fronde—for that civil war was fairly on foot ere Anne of Austria and Mazarin knew of its existence. Two of the intended prisoners escaped, but a surly, burly demagogue, named Broussel, was tracked to his house in the mechanics’ quarter of Paris, and arrested by an armed force. Thereupon the populace rose and armed against the Court. They made an extraordinary stand in the streets, having raisedtwelve hundredbarricades in the course of twelve hours. They had no further need of De Retz. It was, however, one of his mistresses, the sister of a president and wife of a city captain, who having in her house the drum belonging to the citizen guard of that quarter, gave the first impulse by causing it to be beaten. The train was thus fired and the flame of civil war kindled. This was called theDay of the Barricades.
Thus, the royal power which, as wielded by Richelieu, had come to be considered as absolute, was attacked by three parties simultaneously—the great nobles, the parliamentarians, and thebourgeoisie; but, notwithstanding the dread of the common enemy, which united them, those parties were of different origin and conditions of existence, and consequently had different interests also. The great nobles wished to exercise power by placing themselves above the law; the parliament to increase its own through the law; the citizens to establish theirs at the expense of the law: for in their eyes the law was full of abuses and the royal power cruelly oppressive. All three parties, in order to arrive at their several ends, had, therefore, recourse to violence, or derived aid from it.
On the return of Madame de Longueville from Münster, there was already a ferment in the minds of the Parisians, of which the Regent took little heed. The Fronde cabal wasthen brooding in the dark. When the rebellion, formed by Gondi, broke out at last under the circumstances just narrated, Madame de Longueville, alone of all the princesses of the blood, did not accompany Anne of Austria in her flight to Rueil. The Duchess strove her utmost to strengthen, by the concurrence of her entire family, the faction whose fortunes she had embraced through devotion to Marsillac. She did not, however, then succeed in detaching Condé from the Regent’s party. The battle of the barricades followed close upon that of Lens, Condé’s last victory. On his return, that victorious young soldier found royalty humiliated, the Parliament triumphing and dictating laws to the Crown; the Duke de Beaufort, with whom he once thought of measuring swords in defence of the honour of his sister, freed from his prison in Vincennes, and master of Paris by aid of the populace who idolized him; the vain and fickle Abbé de Retz transformed into a tribune of the people; the Prince de Conti into a generalissimo; M. de Longueville under the guidance of his wife and La Rochefoucauld; and the feeble Duke d’Orléans fancying himself almost a King, because he saw the Queen humiliated, and because the Frondeurs, cunningly flattering his self-love, were treating him like a sovereign. Condé, at a glance, saw the situation of affairs and his duty also; and without any hesitation he offered his sword to the Queen.
Brother and sister were, therefore, about to be arrayed against each other in the strife of civil war, and a stormy explanation took place between them. It is asserted that for some time back their reciprocal tenderness had suffered more than one interruption; that, in 1645, Madame de Longueville had crossed the loves of her brother and Mademoiselle du Vigean; that, in 1646, Condé, seeing her toointimate with La Rochefoucauld, had caused her to be summoned to Münster by her husband. But for this we have only the authority of the Duchess de Nemours, her step-daughter and unsparing censor, and nothing is less probable. The passion of Condé for Mademoiselle de Vigean extinguished itself, as all contemporaries affirm. The attentions of La Rochefoucauld to Madame de Longueville may have preceded the embassy of Münster, but they were not observed until 1647, and it is at the close of this year that Madame de Motteville places them, while attributing them especially to the desire of La Rochefoucauld to share the confidence of the sister with the brother. But it is very certain that as soon as the latter remarked this connection, he disapproved of it entirely; and not succeeding in his effort to rouse his sister from the intoxication of a first passion, he passed from the most ardent affection to a bitter discontent. In the autumn of 1648, on his return from Lens, this connection had acquired its greatest strength, and become almost notorious. Madame de Longueville, directed by La Rochefoucauld, did then everything possible to gain over her brother. She brought all her allurements to bear upon him, all her fondlings. She put into play everything which she thought might influence his fickle and passionate disposition—but failed. Neither did he succeed in gaining over her his accustomed ascendency. They quarrelled and separated openly. Madame de Longueville plunged more deeply into the Fronde, and Condé applied himself to giving the newImportantsa harsh lesson.
The Queen had retired to Saint-Germain with the young King and all the government. Paris was under the absolute control of the Fronde. It stirred up the Parliament by the aid of a few ambitious councillors and by seditious andmischievous inquests. It disposed of a great part of the Parisian clergy through the Coadjutor of the Archbishop De Retz, who possessed and exercised all the authority of his uncle. It had continually at its head the two great houses of Vendôme and Lorraine, with two princes of the blood, the Prince de Conti and the Duke de Longueville, followed by a very great number of illustrious families, including the Dukes d’Elbeuf, de Bouillon, and de Beaufort, and other powerful nobles. It gave law in thesalons, thanks to a brilliant bevy of pretty women, who drew after them the flower of the young nobility. In short, the army itself was divided. Turenne, with his troops, who were stationed near the Rhine until the perfect conclusion of the treaty of Westphalia, obedient to the suggestions of his elder brother, the Duke de Bouillon, who wished to recover his principality of Sedan, had just raised the standard of revolt, and was threatening to place the Court between his own army and that of Paris. The parliament of the capital had sent deputies to all the parliaments of the kingdom, and was thus forming a sort of formidable parliamentary league in the face of monarchy. Condé took command of all the troops that remained faithful, and everywhere opposed the insurrection. He wrote himself to the army of the Rhine, which well knew him, and which after the rout sustained by Turenne at Mariendal, had been led back by him to victory: these letters, supported by the proceedings of the government, succeeded in arresting the revolt; and Turenne, abandoned by his own soldiers, was obliged to fly to Holland.[50]At ease on this head, Condé marched upon Paris, and placed it under siege. Instead of disputing theground, as he might have done, foot by foot, with the sedition, he allowed it the freest course, in the certainty that the spectacle of licentiousness which could not fail to appear would, little by little, restore to royalty those who had for a moment gone astray. He began by summoning, in the Queen’s name and through his mother, all his family to Saint-Germain. The Prince de Conti and M. de Longueville did not dare disobey; but La Rochefoucauld, seeing that the Fronde was in the greatest peril, hastened after these two princes. Having brought them back to Paris, he made the Prince de Conti generalissimo—placing under him the Dukes d’Elbeuf and de Bouillon—and who shared authority with the Marshal de la Mothe Houdancourt, governor of Paris. Madame de Longueville excused herself to the Queen and to her mother on the grounds of her delicate condition, which would not permit her to undertake the least fatigue. In fact, Madame de Longueville, it may be noted, wasenceintefor the last time in 1648, when, it must be confessed, her connection with La Rochefoucauld was well known. It was in this condition that, willing to share the perils of her friends, proud also of playing a part and of filling all the trumpets of fame, she enacted Pallas as well as she was able. It is at least certain that she shared all the fatigues of the siege, that she was present at the reviews of the troops, at the parades of the citizensoldiery, and that all the civil and military plans were discussed before her. In this disorder and confusion, amidst the tumult of arms and vociferations of the insurrection, she appeared as if in her natural element. She encouraged, counselled, acted, and the most energetic resolutions emanated from her. The memoirs of the times are full, in regard to this, of the most curious details. The Hôtel deLongueville was continually filled with officers and generals; nothing was seen there but plumes, helmets, and swords.
Notwithstanding all this, the democratic spirit which had originated the Fronde was not satisfied. It beheld with displeasure all the forces of Paris in the hands of the brother, of the brother-in-law, and of the sister of him who commanded the siege. Believing very little, and with reason, in the patriotism of the princes, the citizens demanded some sureties from the chiefs who might at any time betray them, and make peace, at their expense, with Saint-Germain. No one seemed to know how to appease this clamorous multitude, without which nothing further could be done. It was then that Madame de Longueville showed that, if she had forgotten her true duties, she had retained the energy of her race and the intrepidity of the Condés. Under the advice of De Retz, she induced her husband to present himself to the Parliament and inform them that he had come to offer his services, as well as the towns of Rouen, Caen, Dieppe, and the whole of Normandy, of which he was governor; and he begged the Parliament to consent that his wife and two children should be lodged at the Hôtel de Ville as a guarantee for the execution of his word. His speech was received with acclamations; and while the deliberations were still going on, De Retz proceeded to seek the Duchess de Longueville and the Duchess de Bouillon, both prepared to act a part in the scene he proposed to display. He had already caused the proposal of the Duke de Longueville to be spread amongst the populace; and hurrying the two princesses into a carriage, dressed with studied and artful negligence, but surrounded by a splendid suite, and followed by an immense crowd to the principal quarter of the insurrection—the Hôtel de Ville—those lovely andinteresting women were placed in the hands of the people as hostages with all that was most dear to them. “Imagine,” says De Retz, “these two beautiful persons upon the balcony of the Hôtel de Ville; more beautiful because they appeared neglected, although they were not. Each held in her arms one of her children, who were as beautiful as their mothers.” La Grève was full of people, even to the house tops; the men all raised cries of joy, and the women wept with emotion. De Retz, meanwhile, threw handfuls of money from the windows of the Hôtel de Ville amongst the populace, and then, leaving the princesses under the protection of the city, he returned to the Palais de Justice, followed by an immense multitude, whose acclamations rent the skies.
On the night of the 28th of January, 1649, Madame de Longueville gave birth to her last child, a son, who was baptized by De Retz, having for its godfather the Provost, for its godmother the Duchess de Bouillon, and who received the name of Charles de Paris; the child of the Fronde, handsome, talented, and brave; who during his life was the troublesome hope, the melancholy joy of his mother, and the cause of her greatest grief in 1672, when he perished, at the passage of the Rhine, by the side of his uncle, Condé.
The Prince de Conti being declaredgeneralissimo of the army of the King, under the parliament, and the Dukes de Bouillon and Elbeuf, with the Marshal de la Mothe, generals under him, De Retz saw the full fruition of his intrigues. A civil war was now inevitable. The great and the little, the wise and the foolish, the rash and the prudent, the cowardly and the brave, were all engaged and jumbled up pell-mell on both sides; and the mixture was so strange, so heterogeneous, and so incomprehensible, that a sentiment of the ridiculouswas irresistibly paramount, and the war began amongst fits of laughter on all sides. That same day Condé’s cavaliers came galloping into the faubourgs to fire their pistols at the Parisians, whilst the Marquis de Noirmoutier went forth with the cavalry of the Fronde to skirmish with them, and returning to the Hôtel de Ville, entered the circle of the Duchess de Longueville, followed by his officers, each wearing his cuirass, as he came from the field. The hall was filled with ladies preparing to dance, the troops were drawn up in the square, and this mixture of blue scarves and ladies, cuirasses and violins and trumpets, formed, says De Retz, a spectacle much more common in romances than anywhere else.
The serio-grotesque drama of the Fronde was thus initiated.
FOOTNOTES:[50]“History of Turenne,” by Ramsay, vol. ii.
[50]“History of Turenne,” by Ramsay, vol. ii.
[50]“History of Turenne,” by Ramsay, vol. ii.
MADAME DE LONGUEVILLE WINS HER BROTHER CONDÉ OVER TO THE FRONDE.
Thisfirst raising of bucklers by the Frondeurs was not of long duration. At the conclusion of a peace between Mazarin and the Parliament, a perfect understanding prevailed amongst all the members of the Condé family. The civil dissensions, however, were sufficiently prolonged to exhibit the errors of all parties—even those who had entered therein with virtuous inclinations and intentions, ashamed of the stains which had tarnished them in the struggle, almost invariably ended by confining themselves to the narrow circle of individual interests, and completed their degradation by no longer recognizing any other motive for their conduct than that of sordid selfishness. All care for the public weal became extinct; men’s hearts were insensible to all generous sympathy; their minds dead to every elevating impulse—like to those aromatics which, after diffusing both glow and perfume from their ardent brazier, lose by combustion all power of further rekindling, and present nothing else than vile ashes, without heat, light, or odour.
The peace concluded between the Minister and the Fronde was destined to be of short duration. It was, properly speaking, nothing but a suspension of arms, and in no degree a suspension of intrigues and cabals. That suspension of arms, however, had been accompanied by an amnesty, including all persons except the Coadjutor. The other chief personages who had played a part in the insurrection of Paris, and who now proceeded to visit the Court, were by no means warmly received by the Queen, though Mazarin himself displayed nothing but mildness and humility. The Duke d’Orleans and the Prince de Condé visited the city; and the first was received with much enthusiasm by the populace, who attributed to his counsels the truce of which all parties had stood so much in need. The Prince de Condé, whose warlike spirit had not only aided in stirring up the strife at first, but would have protracted it still further had his advice been listened to, was not looked upon with the same favour by the Parisians; but the Parliament sent deputations to them both on their arrival in the city, to compliment them on their efforts for the restoration of peace.
During Condé’s visit to Paris, a reconciliation took place between him and his fair sister, the Duchess de Longueville. The violent language he had used to her on various occasions, the imputations he had cast upon her character, and the harsh nature of the advice which he had given to her husband concerning her, were all forgotten, and she resumed her ascendancy over his mind so completely as in a very short time to detach him entirely from the side of Mazarin, and to lead him, before he quitted Paris, to speak publicly of the Minister in the scornful and contemptuous manner in which he was usually treated by the leaders of the Fronde.
The Duchess de Longueville herself remained as strongly opposed to the Cardinal as ever. But though she still retained towards Anne of Austria that dislike which she had always felt, and which the sense of an inferiority of stationgreatly augmented in a woman of a haughty and ambitious character, she found herself obliged, in common propriety, to appear at Court on the conclusion of the Siege of Paris. The first visits of her husband and herself, after the insurrection, were rendered remarkable by the extraordinary degree of embarrassment and timidity shown by two such bold and fearless persons. The Duke de Longueville arrived first, coming from Normandy; and was followed by a very numerous and splendid train, as though he rested for mental support upon the number of his retainers. The Queen received him in the midst of her Court, with Mazarin standing beside her; and every one crowded round to hear what excuses the Duke would offer for abandoning the royal family at the moment of their greatest need. Longueville, however, approached the Regent with a troubled and embarrassed air, attempted to speak, became first deadly pale, and then as red as fire, but could not utter a word. He then turned and bowed to Mazarin, who came forward, spoke to him, and led him to a window, where they conversed for some time together in private; after which they visited each other frequently, and became apparent friends.
The reception of the proud and beautiful Duchess at St. Germain, though not so public, was not less embarrassing. The Queen had lain down on her bed when the Duchess was announced, and, as was customary in those days, received her in that situation. Madame de Longueville was naturally very apt to blush, and the frequent variation of her complexion added greatly, we are told, to the dazzling character of her beauty. Her blushes, however, on approaching the Queen, became painful; all that she could utter was a few confused sentences, of which the Queen could not understand a word, and those were pronounced in so low a tone that Madame deMotteville, who listened attentively, could distinguish nothing but the wordMadame.
As there was no sincerity in these reconciliations, it is not surprising to find that ere long the conduct of the Prince de Condé gave no slight uneasiness to Mazarin. The Prince had, however, brought back the Court to Paris; but from that very day he had shown a great change in his attitude, and it is to the influence of La Rochefoucauld that such change must be attributed. At that moment, in fact, the Sieur Condé had become reconciled with every member of his family, and even with his sister’s lover. He drew closer also the links between himself and the Duke d’Orleans, for whom he shewed great deference, say his contemporaries, and he began to treat Mazarin with much indifference, rallying him publicly, and declaring aloud that he regretted to have maintained him in a post of which he was so little worthy. Enjoying a great military reputation, feared and esteemed by the bulk of his countrymen, he chafed at seeing himself compromised by the unpopularity of the Cardinal. He thought that by drawing closer to theFrondeurs, he should rid himself of the feeling that oppressed him. In the outset, he had no idea of actively joining that faction, but his sister did the rest, and hurried him on to become the enemy of that party of which he had just been the saviour.
It is true that, for the memorable service which he had recently rendered, Condé reaped scarcely any benefit; but his noble conduct increased the splendour of his last campaign of 1648. It added to his military titles those of defender and saviour of the throne, of pacificator of the realm, of arbiter and enlightened conciliator of parties. It gave the climax to his credit and to his glory. Nevertheless,he did not lose sight of the jealous feeling to which such claims gave birth, whether on the part of the Duke d’Orleans or the Prime Minister; and he well knew that he was exposed to one of thosecoups d’état, the necessity of which the Chancellor as well as himself had urged at Rueil. He considered himself as the head of the nobility, and that important body seemed to constitute all the military power of the State. But the French nobility was just beginning to lose its former independence of character in becoming more courtierlike. Instead of deriving from its strongholds and vassals the feeling of its strength and equality, it showed itself ambitious of such distinctions as the monarch could confer. In the indulgence of its vanity it lost sight of its proper pride; and if that new emulation which the Bourbons had excited was more easy for the sovereign to satisfy, it was more difficult for the chief of a party to direct. Moreover, Condé, as the Duchess de Nemours remarks, knew better how to win battles than hearts.[51]He found a dangerous pleasure, as did his sister the Duchess de Longueville, in braving malevolence. “In matters of consequence, they delighted to thwart people, and in ordinary life they were so impracticable that there was no getting on with them. They had such a habit of ridiculing one, and of saying offensive things, that nobody could put up with them. When visits were paid to them, they allowed such a scornful ennui to be visible, and showed so openly that their visitors bored them, that it was not difficult to understand that they did everything in their power to get rid of their company. Whatsoever might be the rank or quality of the visitors, people were made to wait any length of time in the Prince’s antechamber; and very often, after having long waited,everybody was sent away without getting an interview, however short. When they were displeased they pushed people to the utmost extremity, and they were incapable of showing any gratitude for services done them. Thus they were alike hated by the Court, by the Fronde, and by the populace, and nobody could live with them long. All France impatiently suffered their irritating conduct, and especially their pride, which was excessive.”[52]
In looking at the faulty side of Condé’s character, we must not forget to observe the disinterested firmness with which, without considering either his family or his friends, he had hitherto acted in the interests of the King. Happy would it have been, if, after having thus terminated this sad civil war, he had quitted the Court and its intrigues to seek other battlefields, and to finish another war somewhat more useful and glorious to France—that which still remained with Spain! Happy, also for Madame de Longueville, if, taught by her own conscience, in her last interview with the Queen, and by the shamefuldénouementof the miserable intrigues of which she had the secret, instead of still serving as their instrument, she had shown her courage in resisting them. Happy too, if, after all the proofs of devotion which she had just given to La Rochefoucauld, she had firmly represented to him that, even for his own interest, a different course was necessary; that it would be better to look for fortune and honours by rendering himself esteemed than by trying to make himself feared; that ambition as well as duty showed his place to be by the side of Condé, in the service of theState and of the King; that it was easy for him to obtain in the army some post where he would simply have to march forward and do his duty, trusting to his courage and his other merits!
But even if Anne de Bourbon had been wise enough to speak thus to La Rochefoucauld, she would not have succeeded in gaining his ear. His restless spirit, his ever-discontented vanity, pursuing by turns the most dissimilar objects, because it selected none within its reach—thatundefinable somethingwhich, as De Retz says, was in La Rochefoucauld, made him abandon the high and direct roads, and led him into by-paths full of pitfalls and precipices. Through such perilous ways we shall see the infatuated woman following and aiding him in his extravagant and guilty designs. Receiving the law instead of giving it, she strives to promote the passion of another by devoting to his service all her coquetry as well as greatness of soul, her penetration and intrepidity, her attractive sweetness and indomitable energy. She undertakes to mislead Condé, to rob France of the conqueror of Rocroy and of Lens, and to give him to Spain.