Pour plaire à ses beaux yeux,
J’ai fait la guerre aux rois,
Je l’aurais fait aux dieux.’
But his first advances were unquestionably made in cold blood, and it was in the hope of gaining proselytes to the cause of the Fronde that he desired the alliance and co-operation of this beautiful woman. Touched and flattered by the simulated passion of so remarkable a man, the Duchess gave herself up, heart and soul, to her lover, obedient to his every wish, submissive to his every direction. She forgot her pride of birth and position, her marriage vows, and the tender affection which had hitherto bound her to her elder brother. Let us hear how the man for whom she made such sacrifices speaks of her in the early days of their liaison: ‘Ses belles qualités étaient moins brillantes à cause d’une tâche qui ne s’est jamais vue en une princesse de ce mérite, qui est, que bien loin de donner la loi à ceux qui avaient une particulière adoration pour elle, elle se transformait si fort dans leurs sentimens qu’elle ne reconnaissait point les siens propres.’ And so he despised the very quality for which he had wooed her,—a palpable moral!
Madame de Motteville testifies that ambition had little part in Madame de Longueville’s proceedings. She was only ambitious for her lover,—‘qui étoit peut-être plus intéressé qu’il n’était tendre.’ Among her proselytes she gained over her younger brother to the cause; her husband also was nothing loath to join the Fronde. But La Rochefoucauld, when he thought to win the great Condé through the medium of his sister, had reckoned without his host. Madame de Longueville used all her powers of persuasion, vainly appealing to the tender memories of home and childhood, but Condé was implacable. He upbraided his sister with her dishonour, expressed his aversion to La Rochefoucauld, and joined the Court at St. Germains, where he assumed the command of the troops that had remained faithful to the King, and shortly afterwards marched upon Paris to attack the Frondeurs, who had named his brother, the Prince de Conti, their ‘Generalissimo.’ Now the Duchesse de Longueville had excused herself from joining her mother, the Princesse de Condé, who was at St. Germains in attendance on the Queen, on the plea of her approaching confinement. But the delicacy of her situation did not prevent her acting under the orders of her despotic lover. She shared all the perils and hardships of her friends the Frondeurs, assisted at the parades and reviews of the troops and the civic guard, took part in all the military discussions, and in fact transformed the Hôtel de Longueville into a barrack.
In this state of strife and discord both sides concurred in the advisability of gaining over Marshal Turenne to their interests, and he, being now in command of the French army in Germany, received the most flattering letters from the Queen and her Minister. Mazarin was profuse in his offers of civil and military aggrandisement; renewing the proposal of an alliance with his richly-dowered niece at the same time that he complained to Turenne of the disloyalty of his brother, the Duc de Bouillon.
The Marshal’s answer was manly and straightforward to all these flattering advances. He wrote respectfully indeed, but said this was not a moment for men to think of their own personal advancement. He regretted the disaffection of his brother, and deeply deplored the troubles that reigned in France; he stigmatised the blockade of Paris as a most dangerous step, declined with courteous thanks the offer of the matrimonial alliance on the score of difference of religion, and told his Eminence plainly that, if he continued to oppress the people, he (Turenne) could no longer hold out to him the hand of friendship; moreover, that on his return to France, at the head of his troops (according to orders from headquarters), he was resolved neither to favour the revolt of Parliament nor the injustice of the Minister. It was reserved for the seductive arts of a syren to lead the hero astray from the straight path he had chalked out for himself.
The Duchesse de Longueville had already made a deep impression on the proverbially susceptible heart of the Vicomte de Turenne. About the time of the signing of the Treaty of Westphalia, when she joined her husband at Münster, the hero had on that occasion held a review of all the troops under his command to do honour to the beautiful sister of his former brother in arms, the Prince de Condé.
But to return to the time of which we are treating: the Marshal assembled his soldiers, and made them a formal address, in which he expressed his regret at the state of affairs in France, and assured them that on their return he would use all his influence to persuade the King to go back to Paris, and to take measures for checking the maladministration of the Cardinal. He would also use his best endeavours to obtain the pay (with considerable arrears) that was owing to the troops, both French and auxiliary; and, not content with spoken words, he published a manifesto to the same effect. The Regency, indignant at Turenne’s independent manner of proceeding, and confident that they could not reckon on his co-operation, caused him to be superseded in his command; and to reconcile the soldiers (with whom he was very popular) to this step, they sent them out considerable sums of money. Turenne calmly resigned his post, exhorted the men to loyalty and obedience, and repaired with some friends and followers to Holland, there to await more peaceful times. Before long the Court and the malcontents came to terms by what was called the Peace of Ruel. Deputies from both sides met and negotiated, an amnesty was proclaimed, posts and governments were offered to the chief Frondeurs, and concessions of all kinds served out, as sops to the disaffected.
The wily Cardinal knew his world. Turenne had little ambition, in the common acceptation of the word, no greed of gold or worldly advancement, as to office, or the like; but his pride of birth was a ruling passion, and dearly did he love anything that tended to the glorification of his family.