"They were in the field and they all saluted me as their leader!"
To prove her authority she arrested the couriers and seized and read their despatches. At Toury, where the greater part of the army of the Fronde was encamped, she presided over the council of war. The council was all that she could have wished it to be, and her advice was considered admirable. After the council Mademoiselle gave orders for the march. In vain the generals repeated her father's last instructions; in vain they begged her to "await the consent of his Royal Highness." She laughed in their faces; she cried "En avant!" with the strength of her young lungs. All the trumpets of her army answered her; the batons of the tambour majors danced before high Heaven; and, fired by such enthusiasm as French soldiers never knew again until the Little Corporal called them to glory, the army of the Fronde took the road, lords, ladies, gallant gentlemen, and raw recruits.
Night saw them gaily marching; the next morning they thundered at the gates of Orléans (27th March, 1652).
Mademoiselle announced her presence, but the gates did not open. From the parapet of the ramparts the garrison rendered her military honours; she threatened, and the Governor of the city sent her bonbons. The people locked in the city hailed her with plaudits, but not a hinge turned. The authorities feared that to let in Mademoiselle would be to open the city to the entire army. Tired of awaiting the pleasure of the provost of the merchants, Mademoiselle, followed by Mesdames de Fiésque and de Frontenac, her field marshals, went round the city close to the walls, searching for some unguarded or weak spot where she might enter. All Orleans climbed upon the walls to watch the progress of the gallant and handsome cavalier-maiden and her aids. It was an adventure! Mademoiselle was happy; she looked up at the people upon the walls and cried merrily, "I may have to break down the gates, or scale the walls, but I will enter!"
Thus, skirting the city close to the walls, the three ladies reached the banks of the river Loire, and the river-men ran up from their boats to meet them, and offered to break in a city gate which opened upon the quay. Mademoiselle thanked them, gave them sums of money, told them to begin their work, and the better to see them climbed upon a wine-butt. She recorded that feat, as she recorded all her feats, for the benefit of posterity: "I climbed the wine-butt like a cat; I caught my hands on all the thorns, and I leaped all the hedges." Her gentlemen, who had followed her closely, surrounded her and implored her to return to her staff. Their importunities exasperated her, and she ordered them back to their places before the principal gates. She animated the river-men to do their best, and they worked with a will. The people within the walls had become impatient, and while the river-men battered at the outside of the gates they battered at the inside. Gangs of men, reinforced by women, formed living wedges to help on the good work. Suddenly a plank gave way and an opening was made. Mademoiselle descended from her lookout, and the river-men gently carried her forward and helped her to enter the city. To quote her own words:
As there was a great deal of very bad dirt on the ground, a valet-de-pied lifted me from the ground and urged me through the opening; and as soon as my head appeared the people began to beat the drums.... I heard cries ... "Vive le Roi!" "Vive les Princes!" ... "Point de Mazarin!" Two men seated me on a wooden chair, and so glad was I ... so beside myself with joy, that I did not know whether I was in the chair or on the arm of it! Every one kissed my hands, and I nearly swooned with laughter to find myself in such a pleasant state!
The people were transported with delight; they carried her in procession; a company of soldiers, with drums beating, marched before the procession to clear the way. Mmes. de Fiésque and de Frontenac trudged after their leader through the "quantity of very bad dirt," surrounded by the people, who did not cease to caress them because, as is explicitly stated, "they looked upon the two fairly beautiful ladies as curiosities." The local contemporary chronicles lead us to suppose that the people were not the only ones who indulged in kisses on that occasion; the beautiful Comtesse de Fiésque is said to have kissed the river-men; she was in gallant spirits; la Frontenac finished the last half of her promenade with "one shoe off and one shoe on," though the legendary dumpling supposed to attend a parade in "stocking feet" was lacking.
After events had resumed their regular course, the people wrote and sung a song which was known all over France:
Deux jeunes et belles comtesses,