Photo Giraudon.
After Designs by Perréal.
Two other well-known women also contrived to attract the Grand Condé, and with them he contracted a lifelong friendship. These were Louise Marie de Gonzague of Cleves, afterwards Queen of Poland, and her sister Anne, known as the Princess Palatine on account of her marriage with the son of the Elector Frederic V. Their portraits, by Dumoustier, can be seen at Chantilly. These Princesses de Gonzague, before their marriages, lived at Paris. Princesse Louise Marie held her Court at the Hôtel Nevers, a majestic building between the Tours de Nesle and the Pont Neuf, which afterwards became the Hôtel Conti, and is now the Palais de Monnaie. The two sisters were in their time leaders of Parisian society and played an important part amongst the women of the Fronde.
A letter, one of the last that Prince Henri II de Condé wrote to his son, refers to the neglect with which he treated his wife, and blames him severely for not writing to her upon the occasion of the sudden death of her only brother. It runs thus: “Mon fils, Dieu vous bénisse. Guérissez vous, ou il vaut mieux vous poignarder vous même, que de faire la vie que vous faites; je rien sais ni cause ni raison, et je prie Dieu de me consoler; je vous écris au désespoir, et suis Monsieur votre bon père et ami.” Soon afterwards the old Prince de Condé died and his last words and wishes were for the Duc and Duchesse d’Enghien. He, who had always held so high the honour of his own wife, had been a great support to Claire-Clemence in her trials. The title of Prince de Condé devolved at his father’s death upon the Grand Condé, whilst the little Duc d’Albret bore henceforth the title of Duc d’Enghien, rendered so celebrated by the victor of Rocroy.
But the Grand Condé did not stop here. In that same year (1648) he again won the great battle of Lens against the Austrians. In that battle it was said that he charged twelve times in one hour, took eight flags and thirty-eight cannon, and made 5,000 prisoners. The Emperor Ferdinand III, after this, felt his powers of resistance at an end and decided at last to agree to the Peace of Westphalia, which was signed at Münster, and brought to an end the famous Thirty Years’ War. By it France acquired the whole of Alsace except Strasbourg and Philipsbourg. Liberty of conscience, inaugurated by Henri IV, was also recognised throughout the rest of the world, and perfect equality of rights was enjoined between Roman Catholic and Protestant.
Anne of Austria received the hero of Rocroy and Lens with open arms, calling him her third son, and Louis XIV, the boy King, caressed him constantly. He felt that he was in peril, and he trusted to Condé to help him out of his difficulties. In order to improve finances exhausted by the lavish expenditure of the Court, Mazarin had committed the great mistake of forcing taxation upon all merchandise entering Paris. Parlement had refused to conform to this kind of taxation; but the Cardinal thought that this was the moment to again bring forward this claim. Upon the very day when the Te Deum was sung at Notre Dame for the victory of Lens, he chose to assail the leaders of the Parlement, amongst whom was the venerable Councillor Broussel. This was the signal for the breaking out of the Fronde, and a general rising of the people. Paul Gondi (subsequently known as Cardinal de Retz), at that time Archbishop of Paris, came in full state to entreat the Queen-Regent to appease the people. But Anne of Austria maintained that this was a revolt and that the King must enforce order, upon which the Archbishop himself joined the insurgents and even became one of their leaders. At last the Queen-Regent, frightened by the triumphs of Cromwell in England, gave in, and Broussel was released. To her intense chagrin, persons of the highest aristocracy had joined the Fronde; amongst them the Duchesse de Longueville, the Grand Condé’s own sister, the Duchesse de Bouillon, and others—all more or less vain women seeking notoriety. They endeavoured to gain Condé over to their side, but he resisted proudly, answering, when asked to join the Frondeurs: “I belong to a race that cannot identify itself with the enemies of the Crown.” Anne of Austria thought it wiser to leave Paris, and in great haste departed to Saint-Germain-en-Lay—an exodus which the Grande Mademoiselle has described in all its picturesqueness. On account of the suddenness of the departure no time had been given for the necessary preparations, and the young King and the Princesses de Condé, Charlotte de Montmorency, and Claire-Clemence, had to sleep on straw—an incident which Louis XIV never forgot.
Condé, however, blockaded Paris, overthrew the Fronde, and on the evening of August 18, 1649 the young King with the Queen-Regent, Condé, and Mazarin entered Paris and reached the Palais-Royal in safety. When Condé prepared to take his leave, the Queen turned to him and said, “Sir, the service you have rendered the State is so great that the King and I would be most ungrateful should ever we forget it!”
CHAPTER IV
CLAIRE-CLEMENCE, PRINCESSE DE CONDÉ
MAZARIN with difficulty restrained his impatience at numerous Royal favours bestowed on Condé. Indeed, whilst the latter was engaged in keeping the Army loyal, he agitated against him and did his utmost to undermine the confidence placed in him by the Queen-Regent. In this way the warrior and the priest soon became open adversaries. If it was hard for Condé to submit to the tyranny of Richelieu, still less could he put up with the haughty insolence of the Italian, who stood between him and his own Royal relations. It was natural, therefore, that he should become bitter and think himself insufficiently recompensed for the great services he had rendered to the King. All those members of the aristocracy who were likewise irritated against Mazarin gradually crowded round Condé, and he who had defeated the so-called Old Fronde now became the leader of the second, known as the Young Fronde. Mazarin, therefore, found an excuse for undermining the position of Condé and succeeded in making the Queen believe that the second Fronde, led on by Condé, was opposed to the Government. In order to counteract these false reports, the Prince came to the Palais-Royal to pay a formal visit to her Majesty, who was, however, ill in bed. His own mother (now the Dowager Princess), who had always been on terms of great intimacy with Anne of Austria, was then at her bedside. It was the last interview between Condé and his mother. Her Majesty seemed tired, and after a few words dismissed the Prince, who then proceeded to the Salle de Conseil, where Mazarin awaited him. There he found also his younger brother, Conti, and his brother-in-law, Monsieur de Longueville. Presently Mazarin under some pretext left the room, and no sooner had he gone than the captain of the Queen’s body-guard, Captain Quitaut, entered, and making his way towards Condé and the others, said, not however without embarrassment, “Gentlemen, I have the Queen’s orders to arrest you.” Condé for a moment seemed thunderstruck. Was this her Majesty’s gratitude for the victories he had gained against the enemies of France? Then, seeing that this arrest was intended in all seriousness, he addressed the group of councillors around him, saying, “Can you believe that I, who have always served the King so well, am now a prisoner?” For a space they all stood speechless. Presently someone offered to speak to the Queen, and all left the apartment. Then, since they did not return, Quitaut was compelled to carry out his orders. A door then was opened into a dark passage, and there appeared some of the King’s men-at-arms. Condé, his brother Conti, and M. de Longueville were overcome with amazement. It was indeed true! Mazarin had triumphed. They were transported then and there to the donjon of Vincennes, that self-same prison wherein Henri II de Condé, with his wife the beautiful Charlotte, had been secluded for three years.
The hour was past midnight when they reached the prison, and Condé found himself shut up in a cell whence little could be seen but a tiny patch of sky. He did not, however, lose his courage, and his spirit never seemed to forsake him, even though he was behind prison walls. One day he learned from the doctors who came to visit his sick brother Conti, that his wife Claire-Clemence was employing every effort she could to get him free. To while away his weary hours he took a fancy to cultivating flowers. “Is it not strange,” he said to the doctor, “that I should be watering carnations, whilst my wife is fighting!”