On 8 July, Condé set out for France, and on the afternoon of the 16th he entered Paris by the Porte Saint-Martin, escorted by the Grand Equerry (the Duc de Bellegarde), the Ducs d’Épernon and de Sully, and a number of the nobility, who, by their Majesties’ orders, had met him at Bourget. As he rode through the streets to the Louvre, he was obviously preoccupied and ill at ease, “now playing with the collar of his shirt, now biting his gloves, anon fingering his beard and chin; and one saw clearly that he heard little of what was said to him, and that his thoughts were elsewhere.”[166]
The cordiality of his reception by the young King and the Regent somewhat reassured him, and it was with a more confident air that he left the palace and rode to the Hôtel de Lyon, near the Porte de Bussy, where he was visited by the Comte de Soissons and other nobles. At nine o’clock that evening, he returned to the Louvre, and assisted at the coucher of the King, “lequel il desguiletta, tira ses chausses, et ne partit qu’il ne l’eut mis au lit,” thus demonstrating publicly that he repudiated the ambitious views which some attributed to him, and had no other desire than to be the first of his Majesty’s subjects.
For some little time, Condé persisted in his refusal to be reconciled to his wife. He was much incensed, not only against the lady herself, but also against her father, on account of the request he had addressed to the Archdukes, and the accusation of cruelty to the princess which he had not hesitated to bring against his son-in-law, though the Constable pleaded, in extenuation of his conduct, that he had acted under constraint, and that his letters to the Archdukes had been drafted by the Président Jeannin, by order of the King. Urged on by the princess-dowager and his sister, the Princess of Orange, Condé actually appears to have contemplated taking steps towards getting his marriage annulled, in the hope that, if this could be effected, the Regent might offer him one of her daughters, or, failing a royal princess, he might espouse the wealthy widow of the Duc de Montpensier. Finally, however, recognizing the difficulties of the undertaking and the danger of incurring the enmity of so numerous and powerful a family as the Montmorencies, he yielded to the solicitations of the Constable and the Duchesse d’Angoulême, and, at the beginning of August 1610, he and his wife were formally reconciled at Chantilly.
We shall not attempt here more than a very brief account of the career of Condé during the troublous minority of Louis XIII. For a moment it seemed as though the prince were well disposed towards the new government, and Marie de’ Medici certainly did everything in her power to confirm him in his pacific intentions. She purchased, for 400,000 écus, the Hôtel de Gondi, in the Faubourg Saint-Germain, the finest residence in Paris after the Louvre, and presented it to him; she confirmed him in all his offices and appointments, increased his pension to 200,000 écus, and gave him a large sum to pay his debts. But Condé was ambitious and meddlesome; he could not forget that he had once been heir to the throne, and that ill-fortune had in all probability alone deprived him of the regency.[167] Scarcely had he returned, than he became the principal factor in fomenting opposition to the Government, with the design of diminishing the Queen-Mother’s authority to the advantage of the great nobles of the realm, and for a time found the métier of rebel a highly profitable one. At the peace of Sainte-Ménéhould (May, 1614), he received Amboise as a place of surety, and the sum of 450,000 livres in cash; and at the Peace of Loudon (February, 1616), so enormously had the wages of rebellion risen in the interval, the government of Berry and 1,500,000 livres were required to purchase his neutrality. But, at length, he went too far, and a rumour having spread that his principal adherents, the Ducs de Bouillon, de Longueville, de Mayenne and de Vendôme, were about to make an attempt to place him on the throne, on 1 September, 1616—which, by a singular coincidence, happened to be his birthday,—the Regent, on the advice of Richelieu and Sully, caused him to be arrested at the Louvre, whither he had come to attend a meeting of the Council.
For three weeks Condé remained a close prisoner in an upper apartment of the palace, none of his Household being permitted to have access to him, with the exception of his apothecary, “whose attentions were necessary after two months of a somewhat dissolute life.” But in the night of 24–25 September, he was transferred to the Bastille, where he was treated as a State criminal, and subjected to a most rigorous confinement in a gloomy chamber, the windows of which were so closely grated that scarcely a ray of light was permitted to enter.
Ever since their formal reconciliation six years before, the relations between Condé and his wife had been very cool; indeed, it would appear that the tie which bound them had become merely a nominal one. Nevertheless, on learning of the arrest of her husband, the princess, who was at Valery, showed real magnanimity. Without a moment’s delay, she set out for Paris, sent the prince messages assuring him of her sympathy and devotion, and begged the Regent to allow her to share his captivity. Her request, however, was refused, and she received orders to leave Paris at once and return to Valery.
After the assassination of Concini and the departure of the Queen-Mother for Blois, Condé’s principal adherents were restored to favour, but he himself still remained in the Bastille. However, Louis XIII.’s favourite, the Duc de Luynes, sent his uncle, the Comte de Modène, to visit the prince and report upon his state of health. Condé begged him to convey to the King his hope that, if reasons of State required that he should remain a prisoner, his Majesty would at least consent to ameliorate his captivity, and, particularly, to permit his wife to join him. Madame la Princesse, it should be mentioned, had recently obtained permission to leave Valery, and had taken up her residence at Saint-Maur.
The immediate result of this interview was to procure the captive a little more air and light; but the unfortunate man’s health had been so much affected by the rigour of his confinement that, when the windows of his room were opened he fainted away. Some days later, the favour which he had so earnestly requested, was also granted. We read in a journal of the time:
“26 May, 1617. The Princesse de Condé went to salute the King, and to entreat him to permit her to share her husband’s captivity. The King accorded her permission, and to take with her one demoiselle. Upon which, her little dwarf, having begged him to consent to his not abandoning his mistress, his Majesty permitted him also to accompany her. The same afternoon, Madame la Princesse entered the Bastille, where she was received by Monsieur le Prince with every demonstration of affection, nor did he leave her in repose until she had said that she forgave him.”[168]
The prince and princess remained in the Bastille until 15 September, when they were transferred to the Château of Vincennes. Here Condé was allowed a good deal more liberty than had been permitted him in the Bastille, and took exercise daily “on the top of a thick wall, which was in the form of a gallery.” In the last days of December, Madame la Princesse gave birth to a still-born son, “and was more than forty-eight hours without movement or feeling. Never was a person in greater extremity without dying. The prince desired that the child should receive ecclesiastical burial; but the Archbishop of Paris assembled the theologians, who decided that, since it had not received baptism, it had not entered the Church, and that no funeral ceremony was permissible.”[169]