“At that moment” (during his last hours), exclaimed the orator, “he (Condé) extended his consideration to the most humble of his servants. With a liberality worthy of his birth and of their services, he left them overwhelmed with gifts, but still more honoured by the proofs of his remembrance.” But for the woman who had so gloriously borne his name, who had so uncomplainingly shared his misfortunes, Condé, on his death-bed, had not a word of tenderness, of gratitude, or of pardon. Nay, if we are to believe la Grande Mademoiselle, on the morrow of his masters death, Gourville carried to Louis XIV. a letter written some time before, to be given him after that event, in which Condé entreated the King never to allow the princess to leave her prison at Châteauroux.[241]
However that may be, Claire-Clémence never quitted that gloomy fortress, either living or dead; for, when she died, after surviving her husband more than seven years (18 April, 1694), she was interred in the Church of Saint-Martin, which lay within the precincts of the château. “No member of her illustrious family appears to have attended her obsequies, and doubtless the twelve poor people whom she had had the charity to maintain out of her meagre allowance, with some Capuchins from the neighbouring convent, were the only persons who came to pray over the grave of her who, for her misfortune, had become “the very high, very excellent and puissant Princesse de Condé.”[242]
CHAPTER XIX
Henri-Jules de Bourbon, fifth Prince de Condé—His affection for Chantilly—Improvements which he executes there—The “Galerie des Batailles”—His business capacity—His relations with his son, the Duc de Bourbon (Monsieur le Duc)—Character of this prince—His ungovernable temper and vindictiveness—His intrigue with Madame de Mussy—She betrays him for the Comte d’Albert—A violent scene—Madame de Mussy follows her new lover to Spain—Her sad fate—Other amours of Monsieur le Duc—Character of Madame la Duchesse—Her intrigue with the Prince de Conti—Her grief at his premature death—Last years of the Prince de Condé—His eccentricity becomes hardly distinguishable from madness—Anecdotes concerning him—His death—His last instructions to his son—The Duc de Bourbon retains his title, instead of assuming that of Prince de Condé—His sudden death, eleven months after that of his father.
The son and grandson of the Great Condé have left but few traces in history, and the little which is recorded of them does not, as a rule, redound to their credit.
Succeeding to the offices as well as to the titles of his father, Henri-Jules de Bourbon was appointed colonel of the infantry Regiment of Condé and mestre de camp of the cavalry corps of the same name, and took part in several campaigns, being present at the capture of Mons in 1691, and of Namur in the following year. During the latter part of the campaign of 1692, he was nominally second in command of the Army of Flanders, but no opportunity for distinction seems to have come his way, and soon afterwards ill-health obliged him to retire from active service. Henceforth, he divided his time between the Court, Paris, and Chantilly, though, as he grew older, the Court appears to have lost the attraction it had once had for him, and, when there, he remained most of the day in his apartments, only emerging to attend the King at his lever and coucher, or to visit the Ministers, whom, when he happened to want anything from them, it was his habit to importune to the verge of distraction.
Chantilly was “his delight.” When he walked in the gardens, he was followed by four secretaries, to whom he dictated any ideas which occurred to him for the improvement of the château or the estate. He spent immense sums upon them, and with the happiest results, for he possessed the most exquisite taste. It was he who finished the parish church, erected upon land which had been given by his father to the inhabitants of the town, completed the Ménagerie, and built the gallery in the Petit Château, the Galerie des Batailles. In the pictures representing the history of the Great Condé which by his orders were painted for it, he was very reluctant to omit the actions which Condé had performed when in command of the armies of Spain. At the same time, he felt that he could not venture to expose to the eyes of Frenchmen the exploits which had been directed against themselves. The painter professed himself unable to suggest any means of reconciling his patron’s wishes with his scruples, but, at length, the prince bethought himself of a most ingenious way out of the difficulty. He caused a picture to be painted in which the Muse of History was represented tearing with indignation, and flinging far away from her, the pages of a book which she held in her hands. On these pages were inscribed: “The Relief of Cambrai”; “The Relief of Valenciennes”; “The Retreat from before Arras”; while in the centre of the picture stood the Great Condé, endeavouring to impose silence on Fame, who, with trumpet in hand, was proclaiming his exploits against France.[243]
The prince could well afford to indulge his taste for the embellishment of Chantilly, since he had inherited the business acumen of his grandfather and amassed a great fortune, though, according to Saint-Simon, he was “a beggar in comparison with those who came after him.” He does not appear to have been over scrupulous in his methods of acquiring wealth, and made a practice of lending large sums to the members of the Parlement of Paris, in order to ensure their support in the lawsuits in which he was perpetually engaged, in view of which it is not surprising to learn that it was very rarely that a verdict was given against him.
With his son, who, on the death of the Great Condé, had retained the title of Duc de Bourbon, instead of assuming that of Enghien, which both his grandfather and father had borne, but was now officially styled Monsieur le Duc, he appears to have been on anything but cordial terms, though the harshness with which he sometimes treated him was tempered by a wholesome fear of the King, whose son-in-law he was. It must be admitted, however, that the Duc de Bourbon was scarcely the kind of son to inspire affection, even in a parent with an infinitely greater capacity for it than Monsieur le Prince possessed. Not only was he almost repulsive in appearance, but he was cursed with so violent a temper that it was positively dangerous to contradict him. One evening, when entertaining some friends at Saint-Maur, he had an argument with the Comte de Fiesque over some historical incident. When the count refused to admit that he was wrong, Monsieur le Duc sprang to his feet in a violent rage, and, snatching up a plate, hurled it at his guest’s head, and then turned him out of the house, although, having been invited to stay the night, he had sent away his coach. The unfortunate Fiesque was obliged to make his way to the house of the curé of the parish and beg a bed from him.
He was, moreover, exceedingly vindictive, and any one whom he even suspected of doing him an ill turn speedily had cause to rue it. Thus, on one occasion, having reason to believe that a certain escapade of his in Paris, which had earned him a severe reprimand from his royal father-in-law, had been brought to the King’s notice by the Marquis de Termes, one of his Majesty’s premiers valets de chambre, he despatched several of his servants, armed with stout canes, to lie in wait for the supposed informer. They ambushed him successfully and administered so unmerciful a castigation that he was obliged to keep his bed for several days.