“Monsieur le Prince,[228] equally fertile of invention as reckless of expense whenever his tastes or passions were concerned, judged, from the knowledge he possessed of the character of M. de Nevers, that he might easily divert him from his intended expedition, by affording him an opportunity of employing his talent and exercising his passion for making verses. He proposed, therefore, to give a fête to Monseigneur[229] at Chantilly. The invitation was given and accepted, when he hastened to M. de Nevers, informed him of the entertainment, and, pretending that he was in a great difficulty about the choice of a poet to write the words of the divertissement, begged him, as a favour, to find him one. Upon which M. de Nevers offered himself, just as Monsieur le Duc had foreseen. To conclude, the fête took place—it cost more than one hundred thousand crowns—and Madame de Nevers did not go to Rome.”
Thus Madame de Caylus. But Saint-Simon gives another version of this story, according to which the laugh, at the last, was on the side of M. de Nevers:
“The Duc de Nevers, all jealous, all Italian, all full of intelligence that he was, had never conceived the least suspicion of this fête, although he was not ignorant of the love of Monsieur le Prince for his wife. However, five days before it took place, he ascertained the reason why it was being given. He said not a word about it, but started for Rome the very next day with his wife, and remained there for a long time; and, in his turn, scoffed at Monsieur le Prince.”
Another grande dame whom the duke honoured by his attentions was the Marquise de Richelieu,[230] a lady whom Saint-Simon mentions, “because she is not worth the trouble of being silent about.” According to the same chronicler, he fell madly in love with this siren, and “spent millions upon her, and to keep himself informed of her movements.” One fine day, he discovered, to his profound indignation, that he had a successful rival in the person of the Comte de Roucy. He reproached the marchioness bitterly with her treachery, and, though she assured him that she had been cruelly maligned, he had her so closely watched that very soon the charge was brought home to her beyond any possibility of denial. In vain, did the culprit entreat his forgiveness; in vain, did she swear by all that she held sacred that Roucy’s love was as nothing to her in comparison with his, and that she would never see him again. The infuriated prince refused to be placated and turned to leave her. Then the fear of losing so prodigal a lover “suggested to the marchioness an excellent expedient for setting his mind at rest.” She proposed to give Roucy a rendezvous at her house, and that some of Monsieur le Duc’s people should lie in wait; and, when the count appeared, make away with him. But, instead of the success she appears to have expected from this very Italian proposal,[231] the prince was so horrified that he immediately sent to warn Roucy, and never saw Madame de Richelieu again.
A third inamorata of Monsieur le Duc, of whom we should have perhaps spoken before, since she was one of the loves of his youth, whereas his liaisons with the Duchesse de Nevers and the Marquise de Richelieu belong to his riper years, was the widowed Comtesse de Marans, often mentioned in the letters of Madame de Sévigné, who speaks of her with unusual bitterness, owing, it is believed, to some disparaging remark which she had once let fall concerning the writer’s beloved daughter, Madame de Grignan. The countess was an extremely pretty woman, but the most inconsequent and extravagant creature in the world. According to Madame de Sévigné, she had been heard to declare that she would rather die than surrender herself to a man whom she loved; but, if a man loved her and she did not find him altogether odious, she would be willing to yield. Whether or no she loved Monsieur le Duc, she surrendered herself to him, and, in 1668, presented him with a daughter. The girl was at first known as Mlle. de Guenani, which is the anagram of her father’s duchy of Anguien (the old orthography of Enghien). But, in 1692, she was legitimated, and took the name of Julie de Condé, Mlle. de Châteaubriant. Brought up at first at Maubuisson, she was later sent to the Abbaye-aux-Bois, from which retreat, however, she occasionally emerged to pay visits to her relatives at Chantilly or Saint-Maur. At this time, there seems to have been some idea of her taking the veil, but she was so pretty, intelligent, and amusing, that it was eventually decided that she should remain in the world, and, in 1696, she married the Marquis de Lassay, a middle-aged widower, celebrated for his amorous adventures, who had been for some time past desperately in love with her. The bride received a dowry of 100,000 livres, as well as 20,000 livres for the expenses of her trousseau; while Lassay was appointed the King’s lieutenant in the Bresse. It is to be feared, however, that the amorous marquis had reason to regret his bargain, for, if gossip does not lie, before she had been married a week, the lady had provided herself with a lover.
Many and grave as were the faults of Monsieur le Duc, it is probable that Condé would have suffered them with comparative equanimity if his son had inherited in any degree his own genius for war. But, singularly enough, with all the intelligence and quickness of perception which he displayed in other directions, Enghien never showed the smallest aptitude for his father’s profession. “So great a warrior as Monsieur le Prince,” writes Saint-Simon, “was never able to make his son understand the first principles of the art of war. He made this teaching for a long time the principal object of his care and study. His son tried to do the same, but was never able to acquire the slightest aptitude for any portion of the art, although his father concealed nothing from him, and was constantly explaining all that relates to it at the head of his army. He always took him with him, and endeavoured to give him a command near himself, of course, in order to counsel him. This plan of instruction succeeded no better than the others. Finally, he despaired of his son, gifted though he was with such great talents, and ceased his endeavours, with what grief may be imagined.”
In fairness to Monsieur le Duc, however, it should be mentioned that, if he had inherited none of his father’s military genius, he had at least inherited his valour, and, on more than one occasion, he displayed conspicuous courage. Thus, at the sanguinary battle of Seneffe (11 August, 1674), when Condé’s horse had been killed under him, and the prince had been thrown with great violence to the ground, Enghien threw himself before him, and was himself wounded in assisting him to rise.
Of nine children whom Anne of Bavaria had borne the Duc d’Enghien, four daughters and a son had survived.[232] The boy, Louis, Duc de Bourbon, was in his eighth year when Condé retired definitely to Chantilly, and Monsieur le Prince, in the hope of developing in the son the qualities which he had not found in the father, and of perhaps living to see him rise up and continue the glorious traditions of the family, desired to direct his education himself. Monsieur le Duc, whose time was fully occupied by his duties at the Court, and who still retained his former habits of submission to his father’s will, consented; and Condé decided to have his grandson educated on the same system which had proved so successful in his own case. Established at the Petit-Luxembourg, with his gouverneur Deschamps,[233] his tutors the Jesuit Fathers Alleaume et du Rosel, and one of Monsieur le Prince’s equerries, Le Bouchet, who directed his physical exercises, the young duke attended the courses of the Collège de Clermont, passing his vacations at Chantilly, whither his tutors always accompanied him.
All the masters and professors under whom the boy studied were vigorously seconded by Condé, who maintained with them an almost daily correspondence, while he was continually exhorting his grandson to apply himself to his studies. The Duc de Bourbon, however, though he was not without ability, was incurably indolent, and, despite all the efforts of his teachers and the reprimands of Monsieur le Prince, his progress both at the Collège de Clermont and at Louis-le-Grand, to which he was transferred when he was fourteen, was most disappointing. It was evident that Condé had not taken into sufficient consideration the great difference in temperament between himself and his grandson, and that a system which had produced such splendid results in his own case was quite unsuited to this idle, pleasure-loving lad.
The duke was accordingly removed from college, and, on the advice of Bossuet, Condé decided to keep him under his own eye at Chantilly, and to entrust the rest of his education to La Bruyère and the distinguished mathematician Sauveur. This plan worked excellently for some months, and Monsieur le Prince was full of hope; but, unfortunately, the Duc d’Enghien, to whom the possession of the royal favour was of infinitely more importance than anything else in the world, considered that the time had now arrived to bring his son to the notice of the King and initiate him into his duties as a courtier, and desired that he should pay occasional visits to Versailles. These visits, which, on some pretext or other, were frequently prolonged far beyond the limit which Condé had fixed, naturally did not make for the young gentleman’s progress in his studies, for, though his tutors always accompanied him, he soon became so absorbed in the pleasures of the Court that they thought themselves fortunate if they could obtain from him an occasional hour of distracted attention. La Bruyère was in despair and appealed to Monsieur le Prince, who remonstrated vigorously with Enghien. “Your son,” he writes, “will become a very good huntsman, but ignorant of everything that he ought to know. It is for you to remedy it, and to think of his life, his health, and his good education. I beg you to consider it, and not to wait to remedy it until it is too late.”