Condé, so magnanimous alike to friends and enemies, in this instance behaved most brutally to his wife, and availed himself of this opportunity to get rid of her. Instead of defending her against a scandal which increased day by day from its very mystery, he himself heaped calumny upon her. He immediately left Chantilly for Paris, and without visiting the Princess his wife, went straight to Louis XIV and demanded a lettre de cachet against her. The King, however, with greater humanity, refused his request; upon which Condé returned to Chantilly in great wrath and contrived another scheme. He concocted a document under which the Princess consented to transfer all her property to her son during her lifetime; which deed he persuaded the Duke to present to his mother for signature. There was, however, a clause under which Her Highness was to retain a right of disposal over her jewels. By this scheme he proposed to induce her to retire altogether from the world without offering any defence.
Abandoned by her husband, robbed by her own son—who actually did persuade her to sign the above-mentioned instrument—the unfortunate Princess found herself no longer the courageous woman that she once had been. Instead of rebutting the wicked calumnies which attacked her honour, she merely endeavoured to save the unworthy Duval from the guillotine—a wretch who, under torture, uttered confessions compromising the Princess, which were, however, considered by the Parlement as inconclusive. Condé, furious with his wife as the cause of all this scandal, again demanded of Louis XIV a lettre de cachet and this time secured it. Her very generosity on behalf of the accused Duval was employed as a pretext for separation; and crushed and broken in health and spirits, she was transported one morning to the fortress of Châteauroux. In the presence of her son, the Duc d’Enghien, she said to the curé of Saint-Sulpice, who was her confessor: “This is the last time that I shall be able to talk to you, for I shall never return from the place where the King is pleased to send me. Nevertheless the confession which I have made to you will always prove my innocence.” Embracing her son for the last time, she fainted away; and in that state she was conveyed to the carriage which was to transport her to the distant castle of Châteauroux, where she was to be buried for the remainder of her life. No news of the outer world ever reached her, and even her only child never visited her. This barbarous treatment, this cruel seclusion, brought on hallucinations, during which it is said that she was haunted by the image of her husband. Châteauroux, a gloomy fortress with numerous towers, inspired her with terror; and there were even rumours that she was ill-treated by her gaolers. Madame de Longueville was the only member of the Condé family who showed any pity for this poor, forlorn woman, and she expressed a wish to visit her; but Condé, unrelenting, refused her permission. He sent, however, Père Tixier to ascertain whether she had all she needed, who reported that she seemed to be in constant terror lest the food offered to her might contain poison. Through many long years she dragged on a sad life in this cruel solitude; and not even the news of her husband’s death, whom she outlived by several years, reached her. Unrelenting to the last, Condé is said to have written on his death-bed a private letter to Louis XIV, desiring him as a favour never to release Claire-Clemence. When at last death delivered her, she was buried in the little church of St. Martin, within the precincts of Châteauroux. Only a few Franciscan monks and some poor people of the neighbourhood, whom out of her own scanty resources she had continually assisted, attended at her funeral. Neither her son nor any of her relations were present. When, in 1793, this little church was restored, her remains were thrown to the winds, and not one of her descendants took the trouble to raise a protest. More than a century had to pass before even one voice was raised in defence of this cruelly wronged woman. Louis Joseph de Bourbon, the father of the last Condé, in his Biography of his famous ancestor, could not refrain from a severe condemnation of the cruelty with which the “Hero” had treated the wife who had shown so much courage and loyalty on his behalf.
The noble-minded Duc d’Aumale, in his History of the Princes de Condé, is also full of sympathy and appreciation for poor Claire-Clemence; although he endeavours to excuse the great Condé’s conduct towards her by explaining the repugnance he must have felt for Richelieu’s niece.
A curious circumstance which seems still further to enhance the tragic fate which befell Claire-Clemence is the indifference shown to her by her own nearest relatives. At the very time when she was pining away in the fortress of Châteauroux, not only her husband but her son also seems to have felt no pity nor care for her. At Chantilly, where Anne de Gonzague reigned supreme, festivity followed festivity, and it was she who received the crowds of guests who thronged to visit that delectable resort.
The visits to Fontainebleau, where, after the death of the Regent, the King so often shut himself up for hours together, are described as being very tame compared with those to Chantilly, where the time passed far more agreeably. Turenne and the Maréchal de Grammont were frequently invited. Also such celebrated men of letters as Boileau, Racine, Corneille, La Fontaine, and Molière found their way thither; for Condé took a great personal interest in their works, and helped and encouraged them considerably. Boileau was a specially welcome guest at Chantilly. Once, however, during an animated conversation with the Prince, he contradicted him in some statement; but noticing an angry look upon His Highness’s countenance, he became alarmed, and, making a profound bow, said: “Je serais toujours de l’avis de M. le Prince, surtout quand il aura tort”—a piece of tact which was much appreciated by his host, and disarmed his anger. Condé was also the first to recognise the greatness of Molière, and to protect him from his rivals. The Precieuses Ridicules were first acted at Chantilly, and the players were lodged there for over a week. When Louis XIV fell so passionately in love with Madame de Montespan, Molière wrote his poem Amphitryon, wherein he advises husbands to offer to Jupiter a share of their nuptial love—a work which he dedicated to the Prince de Condé. It was Boileau who brought Racine to Chantilly, and his tragedies were often performed there. Moreover, the Court itself paid prolonged visits to the Grand Condé, and thither thronged all the most distinguished personages in Europe. Madame de Sévigné, in her famous Letters, describes the “delices” of Chantilly; and descriptions of festive gatherings of all kinds held there are frequently to be found throughout the records of the period. The Gazette devoted many columns to details regarding pleasure and hunting parties and lunches at the Maison de Sylvie.
In the month of April 1671 Chantilly opened its portals to receive Louis XIV and his bride, the Infanta Maria Theresa. The Château itself was reserved for the Royal party, whilst the courtiers and the officers of the suite were lodged throughout the neighbouring villages. Sixty tables were served three times a day; and it was during this Royal visit that Vatel, the maître d’hôtel, whose skill directed the whole, suddenly committed suicide because he was unable to provide the necessary fish on a fast-day. He was greatly mourned, especially by his master; but a substitute was soon found, who succeeded even better than his predecessor, so far eclipsing him, in fact, that his loss was soon forgotten.
Louis XIV was so charmed with this visit that he is said to have been inspired by Chantilly to create Versailles. “Mon cousin” he jokingly said to Condé when leaving, “il faut que vous me cédiez Chantilly.” To which Condé promptly replied, “Chantilly est aux ordres du roi. J’espère que sa majesté me nommera son concierge.”
CHAPTER VII
THE GRAND CONDÉ A WARRIOR ONCE MORE
SHORTLY after this memorable visit of the Court to Chantilly the Prince de Condé was summoned by the King to Paris to give his opinion upon a possible conquest of Holland. The truth was that the youthful monarch, thirsting for military glory, had but recently uttered the celebrated statement that the only way to conquer the Spanish Netherlands was to subdue and annihilate the Dutch.
Upon the death of Philip IV of Spain the French King had immediately asserted the Flemish rights of his wife Maria Theresa, daughter of the late King of Spain by his first wife. According to the ancient Statutes of Brabant there was no doubt about her title to this inheritance, but, since the long-drawn-out negotiations regarding it led to nothing, Louis XIV suddenly declared war. His Majesty had not forgotten Condé’s successes at Rocroy, Nördlingen and Lens, and his admiration for the Prince’s skill in strategy and geography was unbounded. In the exuberance of his imagination he even contemplated, with the aid of so great a hero, the subjugation of the whole of Europe.