In August 1544, Enghien added to the laurels he had gained at Rocroi in three days’ sanguinary fighting before Freiburg, and a year later gained the victory of Nördlingen over the Imperialists. In the latter engagement he was wounded, and an attack of fever which supervened nearly cost him his life. In the autumn he returned to Paris, in a very weak state of health, when, as a general rule, man is particularly susceptible to feminine blandishments. The astonishment of his friends and the despair of poor Mlle. du Vigean may, therefore, be imagined, when it was perceived that he seemed to regard the girl whom he had once so passionately loved with as much indifference “as if he had never heard her voice.”
To what are we to attribute so sudden a revulsion of feeling? The ingenuous Désormeaux ascribes it to the fact that “his love had vanished with the prodigious quantity of blood that had been taken from him”; others to the effect of the paternal remonstrances. But the most probable reason is that, with increasing years and experience of life, common-sense had at last asserted itself, and that, in despair either of obtaining the dissolution of his marriage or of overcoming the virtuous scruples of his inamorata, he had decided no longer to abandon himself to a passion which could have no other result than that of troubling his peace of mind.
It is possible, however, that he may have been prompted by a more worthy motive. Finding that his equivocal attentions had somewhat compromised the lady, while, on the other hand, her devotion to himself had caused her to reject the honourable advances of more than one highly eligible suitor, he may at length have awakened to a sense of the selfishness of his conduct and have determined to yield his place to some one with a better right.
If such were the reason of his withdrawal, the sacrifice was a vain one. Marthe du Vigean, though she permitted no complaint to escape her, remained inconsolable. She turned a deaf ear to Saint-Mesgrin and other suitors, who crowded round her as soon as the brusque retreat of Enghien was known, and resolved to become the bride of the Church. Lest, however, the resolution which she meditated should be deemed by the world the “outcome of grief or of mortification,” she took no immediate steps to carry it out, and for some time continued to receive the visits of her friends, even of those who had been the witnesses of her passion. But, at length, in the summer of 1647, ignoring the counsels and entreaties of her relatives, she quitted her father’s house and took refuge with the Carmelites of the Rue Saint-Jacques, whither the poor little Duchesse d’Enghien had been accustomed to repair, on account of her, to appease her jealousy and find resignation. Anne du Vigean, the future Duchesse de Richelieu, in a letter to her brother, the Marquis de Fors, gives an interesting picture of her sister’s last days in the world:
“... We went to Rueil, where we spoke every day of the affair [Marthe du Vigean’s resolution to become a nun], and where many tears were shed; and the conclusion arrived at was that, at any rate, nothing should be done for six months, my mother hoping, in asking this delay of her, that she might be able to induce her to alter her mind. Finally, we returned here, because I was very ill; I had fever so badly that I did not move from my bed. One fine day, she said to me: ‘Sister, I shall not give them all the time I promised, for I shall go before another week has passed!’ I begged her to give me time to write to my mother, in order that she might come and speak to her, since I was not strong enough to retain or to counsel her. I wrote, accordingly, ill though I was. In the meanwhile, I had sent to the Hôtel de Longueville to learn your news [the news from the army], because I had been told that a courier had arrived, and Madame de Longueville wrote to me to send for it; and at the end of her letter she asked my sister to go and see her. She went out, therefore, to go thither, and when she had gone half the distance, told her people that she must turn aside to the ‘Grandes Carmélites,’[188] but that she had only a word to say to them. She made them turn her carriage and went thither, where she is still and does not intend to come out. My mother arrived an hour later.... My father wished to kill every one, all the Missionaries and Carmelites in the world, but he is beginning to be somewhat appeased. I go to see her every day; she is merry and resolute, and watches me weeping without shedding a tear.”[189]
Marthe du Vigean seems to have been very happy in her new life, and declared that she would not change her condition to be empress of the whole world.[190] She made profession in 1649, and took the name of Sœur Marthe de Jésus. She held the office of sub-prioress from 1659–1662, and died three years later, at the age of forty-four.
The peace of the cloister had descended upon her, but the memory of her grace and beauty lingered long in the world she had quitted:
“Lorsque Vigean quitta la Cour,
Les Jeux, les Grâces, les Amours
Entrèrent dans le monastère.