The following evening the prince supped with Mazarin, who entertained him magnificently, and who, a few days later, in writing to Lenet, spoke in the warmest terms of their “friendship and cordial relations.”
But, if the past were forgiven, it could not be forgotten, at least until time had enabled the prince to show that he was sincere in his professions of fidelity to his Sovereign. Condé, recognizing this, did not prolong his stay at the Court, and on 4 February he set out for Paris, where he was soon rejoined by his wife. In the capital he met with a most cordial reception; the Parlement and the other Courts presented him with an address of welcome; all Paris hastened to follow their example; and the Hôtel de Condé, so long deserted, was for some weeks the centre of animation.
It was in this splendid residence which she had not entered since the death of her mother-in-law, ten years before, that a fresh and final disillusion awaited the long-suffering wife of the Great Condé. On her return from exile, Claire-Clémence might well have believed that a new life was about to begin for her—a life in which she would be restored both to her place in Society and in her husband’s house, and receive abundant compensation for all the hardships and humiliations which she had experienced. Under what immense obligations had she not placed her husband! Twice within two years she had brilliantly played the rôle of a party leader. At the peril of her life she had traversed the seas to bring him his son and to take her place by his side, and for long years had uncomplainingly endured all the bitterness of poverty and exile. Was it conceivable that a man could fail to be touched by so much courage, so much devotion? Was it conceivable that, now that it was in his power to show his appreciation of all that she had suffered for his sake, he should not hasten to take advantage of the opportunity?
And the changes which had taken place since their departure from France seemed to favour a better understanding between husband and wife. To “le temps de la bonne régence,”[207] that era of facile and romantic gallantry, had succeeded one of regularity, order, and outward decorum, revealing a profound change in taste and morals. Of the salons which had been so much frequented before the Fronde, some were already nothing but a memory; others retained the merest shade of their former reputation. Condé’s old entourage no longer existed; the band of pretty women whom his sister had gathered round her, and among whom he had moved as a kind of demi-god, was dispersed. Madame de Longueville herself had turned dévote, and divided her time between her husband and children and her religious duties. Madame de Châtillon had found a second husband in the Duke of Mecklenburg, and, though she was still residing in France, she seemed more anxious to secure his intervention in her lawsuits and her conjugal difficulties than to pick up the thread of their interrupted intrigue.
Besides, Condé himself was no longer the dashing cavalier of former times. Never very robust, his health had been severely tried by the fatigues of so many years of active service; and already he was beginning to suffer from those attacks of gout which were to be the torment of his old age. Now, on the threshold of his fortieth year, weary and disillusioned, it seemed but natural that he should seek solace for his hardships and his thwarted ambition in the society of his wife and children.
Condé had too much family pride to neglect his duties towards his son, but, notwithstanding all the claims which she had upon his consideration, his behaviour towards his wife showed no improvement. It was, indeed, more cold and distant than ever. In the winter, which he generally passed in Paris, he and the princess each had their apartments under the same roof; they were seen together at State ceremonies; on great occasions, it was the latter who did the honours of the Hôtel de Condé. But in the summer, Claire-Clémence never appeared at Chantilly, where Monsieur le Prince was accustomed to gather round him all the celebrities of the time, save on the rare occasions when her presence was formally requested; soon she ceased to come there at all. Apart from attendance at official ceremonies and occasional visits to Saint-Maur, accompanied by a few persons of her suite, she seldom left the Hôtel de Condé, and led almost as retired a life as she had formerly passed among the Carmelites of the Faubourg Saint-Jacques. For the last and cruel disillusion which she had experienced had deprived her of all desire to mingle with the gay world around her. Too proud and too generous to complain, she gave as an explanation of her retirement the cares which her delicate health imposed, and the dignity of her behaviour gained for her the admiration and sympathy of all who penetrated the secret of this princely ménage.
ANNE OF BAVARIA, DUCHESSE D’ENGHIEN
FROM AN ENGRAVING BY MONCORNET
But Condé’s neglect was not the only trial which the poor princess had to endure. In the early years of her married life, she had been able to find some consolation for her husband’s indifference in the affection of her son, the Duc d’Enghien, whom she had kept constantly with her and to whom she was passionately devoted. But the boy, as we have mentioned, had been separated from his mother soon after their arrival in Flanders, and sent to the Jesuit College at Antwerp, since which time she had only seen him at long intervals. Monsieur le Prince, on the other hand, had superintended his son’s education, and, as the lad grew older, he spent more and more of his time with his father, for whom he soon conceived the warmest admiration and affection; while Condé, on his side, was tenderly attached to his son. Unhappily, these pleasant relations were established at the cost of the princess; for the little consideration which his father, who could do no wrong in his eyes, showed for his mother was naturally not without its effect upon Enghien, and gradually the affection which as a boy he had entertained for the latter was replaced by the most complete indifference.