To his brother, as head of the house, he paid a species of obedience, as to a suzerain,—a line of conduct he pursued towards his nephew, though still a youth, on succeeding to the title. All these things considered, it is not to be wondered at that Turenne was delighted when he received the news that patents had been granted to himself and his brother (with other concessions to the elder), entitling them and their descendants to the dignities and privileges of Princes of the blood-royal. He hastened back to Paris, and was received by the Cardinal with outward signs of welcome. But breakers were ahead. The peace was a hollow one, leaving both parties in much the same condition: the Cardinal and the Parliament each preserving authority as before,—the one over the Court, the other over the people. The Prince de Condé was always at issue with the Minister, whom he treated with ill-concealed contempt; and his Eminence, wearied and perplexed by the exigencies and requirements of the great man, and maddened by his sarcasms, plotted his ruin.
The Duchesse de Longueville, who watched all passing events with vigilance, chose this opportunity to renew her overtures of reconciliation to her brother; and she not only succeeded in so doing, but persuaded Monsieur le Prince to give in a half-and-half adhesion to the cause of the Fronde, in which party he had many friends, and perhaps more enemies.
Among the most inveterate of the latter was the Cardinal de Retz, at this moment on friendly terms with the Court; and it was by the joint arrangement of the two Churchmen that a step was taken which rekindled the torch of public discord. The Queen-Regent had also lately been much incensed against the Prince de Condé, who had shown himself wanting in respect and deference to her Majesty; and petty intrigues of all kinds were at work against him.
On the 18th of January 1650, as the Princes of Condé, Conti, and the Duc de Longueville entered the Royal Council-chamber, they were arrested, and sent off without a moment’s delay to the Château de Vincennes. This step caused a panic among their friends, who dispersed in all directions. The Duchesse de Longueville left Paris by night with a large escort, headed by her adorer, the Duc de la Rochefoucauld, and repaired to Normandy, to raise the inhabitants of the province against the King, in which undertaking, however, she was unsuccessful. Turenne took his way to Stenai, a stronghold belonging to the Prince de Condé, and openly avowed his indignation at the imprisonment of the Princes.
‘On prétend’—we again quote his Mémoires—‘que l’amour pour la sœur eût autant de part aux fausses démarches du vicomte que l’amitié pour le frère.’ Be this as it may, he was soon joined by the Duchess; and in answer to all the flattering missives sent him by the Cardinal, and the offers of high military commands and the like, he declared his determination not to return to his allegiance until the Princes were set at liberty. He also wrote to the Queen, expostulating with her on the step she had taken, and pointing out that such a man as the great Condé was far more worthy her confidence, on account of his birth and character, and the military services he had rendered his Sovereign, than the Cardinal, who was an object of aversion to the country at large,—arguments which had no effect on the Royal mind. It appears that the Duchess was not as grateful to Turenne as he had hoped, her liaison with the Duc de la Rochefoucauld interfering with the Marshal’s claim; but so great an adept in the arts of coquetry doubtless knew how to keep her most valuable ally betwixt hope and despair for some time. He had certainly transferred his loyalty from Queen Anne to Queen Généviève, for the Duchess gave herself all the airs of a sovereign—levying an army, publishing manifestoes, and even concluding treaties. She sold her diamonds, an example which was followed by the obedient Marshal, who disposed of his splendid silver plate in order to raise troops. He collected together all those who adhered sufficiently to the Princes to serve in their behalf, together with those over whom he exercised a personal influence,—some of whom he received into the citadel, and others he stationed round the walls of Stenai. These were soon dispersed by the Royal troops, and Turenne, finding himself reduced to straits, listened once more to the suggestions of his evil genius, and under her auspices concluded a treaty with the Spaniards, in order to obtain money and auxiliaries to assist in the deliverance of the captives. The Marshal did not take a step so foreign to his nature without regret, and indeed remorse, and the treaty was concluded with many stringent conditions.
He again wrote to the Queen, pointing out to her the horrors of a war which would be cruel, for that her son would be opposed to his subjects on the one hand, and to her own brother on the other; but she paid no heed to his advice. He therefore placed himself at the head of the Spaniards, and commenced a march which was for a while successful, besieging and carrying many places of importance.
But his foreign troops caused him great trouble and annoyance, refusing to obey his commands, or to march on Vincennes. He was defeated with great loss at the battle of Rhetel, in spite of his personal valour, which never failed, and he felt this disaster acutely. It is related of him that, some time afterwards, being asked by a flippant young officer how it chanced that he lost the battles of Mariendal and Rhetel, he replied with calm dignity, ‘By my own fault.’
Still bent on the deliverance of the Princes, Turenne was about to proceed to Vincennes without the assistance of the Spaniards; but the prisoners had been already removed elsewhere.
Hopes of peace began to dawn on the distracted country. The Ducs de la Rochefoucauld and de Bouillon, the Princesse de Condé and her young son, who had been leagued together against the Court, now tendered their submission, and repaired to the Royal camp at Bourg in person, pledging themselves in future not to take arms against the King. These proud spirits carried their newly-born loyalty so far, that, on entering the presence of their Majesties, they knelt down to solicit pardon.
‘La reine les reçut avec bonté, et le Cardinal Mazarin leur donna à dîner.’ But the release of the Princes was not to be effected without cabals and intrigues of all kinds. The Queen was hardly pressed on the subject, and at length she was compelled to dismiss her Minister, and to promise pardon to the captives. The Marshal de Grammont was named as the bearer of the good tidings to Condé and his companions, but the Cardinal stole a march on him, and contrived to appropriate all the honour of the transaction, by forestalling De Grammont’s journey.