During her last days, the old princess had fallen very much under the influence of Madame de Châtillon, who, as avaricious as she was unprincipled, had determined to obtain a share of her property. In this she was but too successful. “The Duchesse de Châtillon, who was the most astute woman in the world,” observes Lenet, “had so well understood how to employ her adroit and subtle mind and her agreeable and insinuating manners as to make herself so completely mistress of the princess-dowager, that she saw only with her eyes and spoke only with her mouth.”
It was with the idea of separating the old princess from all the friends and servants who might endeavour to frustrate her designs that the duchess had persuaded her to take up her residence at Châtillon-sur-Loing, where she was careful not to permit any one to approach her, except Madame de Bourgneuf, the gouvernante of Madame de Longueville’s children, and Madame la Princesse’s confessor, a worldly and intriguing abbé named Cambriac, both of whom she had succeeded in gaining over to her cause. The outcome of these manœuvres was that the dowager bequeathed to Madame de Châtillon nearly the whole of her jewellery—in itself a respectable fortune—and the revenues for life of several of her estates, including that of Merlou, near Pontoise.
The young Princesse de Condé was at the Château of Montrond, whither she had proceeded on leaving Guienne, when she learned of the death of her mother-in-law. Well aware of the rapacity of the fair Isabelle, she at once despatched Lenet to Châtillon to watch over her husband’s interests; and this intervention obliged the impatient legatee to make a journey to Montrond to ask the princess’s permission to take possession of the jewellery bequeathed to her. The interview between the two ladies was rendered the more piquant by an incident which afforded Claire-Clémence an opportunity for enjoying a malicious triumph over the too-coquettish mistress of her husband.
Before the arrival of Madame de Châtillon at Montrond, a courier arrived from Paris, bearing a packet without any superscription, which was brought to the Princesse de Condé and opened by her. It contained a tender letter for the duchess from her amant de cœur, the Duc de Nemours, in which he assured her that, since her departure from Paris, he was changed to the point of being no longer recognizable, and was gradually pining away. To these lamentations the lovelorn nobleman joined some very practical counsels, advising his inamorata to take possession of the estate of Merlou—which, as we have mentioned, the late princess had left her for life—before Condé was set at liberty. Claire-Clémence had the satisfaction of handing this missive to her rival, when the latter arrived at Montrond a day or two afterwards. But Madame de Châtillon, so far from exhibiting the confusion which she had anticipated, declared, with superb audacity, that the letter was a forgery, since M. de Nemours was nothing but a mere acquaintance. Notwithstanding these denials, the story of the letter had a great success, and circulated through all the ruelles, where Madame de Châtillon was unmercifully bantered about it. However, she could well afford to disregard these railleries, since Condé, too much enamoured not to forgive the equivocal part she had played towards the dowager-princess, showed no intention of disputing the will, and sent instructions to his wife to authorize her to take possession of Merlou.
Notwithstanding the suppression of the revolt in Guienne and the crushing defeat inflicted on the rebels and Spaniards by Du Plessis-Praslin at Rethel (9 December, 1650), the party of the Princes gained adherents every day, while the unpopularity of Mazarin steadily increased. The Old Fronde, which he had alienated by his refusal to accede to their exorbitant demands, made common cause with the friends of Condé, and persuaded the fickle Gaston d’Orléans, the King’s uncle, to side with them. Encouraged by them, the Parlement loudly demanded the liberation of the Princes and the dismissal of the Cardinal, and the Regent in vain endeavoured to defend her Minister. By the middle of February, 1651, Mazarin was on his way into exile, and Condé was a free man once more.
As soon as she was informed of the approaching liberation of her husband, the princess had made preparations to set out for Paris and bid him welcome at the Hôtel de Condé, but she was suddenly taken ill and obliged to remain at Montrond. Such, however, was her impatience to rejoin him that, while still barely convalescent, she insisted on starting on her journey, travelling the first part of the way in a litter. After having given her husband so many proofs of love and devotion, after having supported with so much courage so many trials and dangers for his sake, it was but natural that she should have expected some return on his part; and, for the moment, it indeed seemed as though Condé was by no means insensible to the noble conduct of the princess. He came to meet her as far as Sainte-Geneviève-des-Bois, near Montchéry, assured her that henceforth he should devote himself entirely to her, and desired that she should make a sort of triumphal entry into Paris in his own carriage, and sitting by his side. But, though he was probably sincere enough at the time, the supreme selfishness of his character rendered him incapable of any lasting gratitude, and very soon the astute Madame de Châtillon had resumed her former empire over him, and the poor princess found herself almost as neglected as ever.
Unlike his father, Condé did not learn wisdom from adversity. The turbulence of the third Prince de Condé had, as we have seen, been effectually cooled by the three years’ imprisonment he had suffered in the early part of the previous reign; but Louis de Bourbon was entirely destitute of the prudence which had tempered his father’s greed and ambition. His year of confinement seemed only to have accentuated that impatience of all control, that haughtiness of manner, and that contemptuous disregard for the feelings and opinions of others which he had always shown. Restored to liberty, in circumstances which seemed to promise him an almost undisputed ascendency, he returned to Paris more than ever determined to carry matters with a high hand. But, to exercise the power which he desired, the maintenance of the alliance between the Old Fronde and the party of the Princes, which had opened his prison doors and procured the exile of Mazarin, was essential, and Condé, though possessed of the highest military gifts, had none of the qualities necessary for successful political leadership.
Anne of Austria, on the advice of her exiled Minister, with whom she was in constant communication, sought to break up the combination between the two Frondes by a rapprochement with Condé, and secret negotiations were accordingly opened with the prince. The latter, who cared nothing for his new allies, professed himself ready to give or rather to sell his support to the Court, and even to consent to the return of Mazarin; but the price he demanded would have rendered him the virtual sovereign of the South of France. Acting always on Mazarin’s instructions, Anne encouraged the belief that these preposterous terms would eventually be accorded, until Condé had completely alienated the Old Fronde, by breaking off the marriage arranged between his brother Conti and Mlle. de Chevreuse, which had been one of the conditions of their alliance. The Old Fronde, indignant at the prince’s bad faith, drew towards the Court, and, on the night of 5–6 July, 1651, Condé, in the belief that his liberty, if not his life, was threatened, fled to Saunt-Maur. Madame la Princesse and her son, Conti, Madame de Longueville, and a number of his partisans followed him, and he had soon “a Court which was not less imposing than that of the King.”
His more prudent supporters urged him to be reconciled to the Regent, who had sent to assure him that his retreat had been due to an entire misapprehension. But Madame de Longueville and others were in favour of an open rupture with the Court, and the prince’s impetuosity of character and ambitious views inclined him to the same course. However, he was not yet prepared for an armed struggle against the royal authority, and, having despatched his wife and son and Madame de Longueville to Montrond, he returned to Paris and entered into negotiations with the Queen. But his demands were so outrageous and his conduct so insolent that the exasperated Queen decided to transform without delay the understanding which she had had for some weeks past with the Frondeurs into a definite alliance, and towards the middle of August articles of agreement between the two parties were drawn up and signed.
Being now assured of the co-operation of the Frondeurs, Anne felt strong enough for an open struggle with Condé, and, having engaged Retz to maintain her cause in the Parlement, she, on 17 August, launched against the Prince a declaration, in which she charged him with ingratitude, contempt for the royal authority, criminal alliances with the enemies of the realm, and a desire to subvert the State. These charges led to violent scenes at the Palais de Justice, in one of which Retz narrowly escaped being assassinated by some of Condé’s friends. They were not, however, pressed; indeed, on 5 September, the Queen, on the mediation of Gaston d’Orléans, sent to the Parlement a letter formally exonerating the prince. But, under the pretext of giving more solemnity to the decree, she requested that it should not be promulgated until after the majority of Louis XIV., which he would attain on the following day, on completing his thirteenth year, the age fixed by the laws of France for the majority of her kings.