CHANTILLY

Mary Stuart
at the age of nine years
from the drawing in the Musée Condé at Chantilly.

C H A N T I L L Y
IN HISTORY AND ART

BY LOUISE M. RICHTER
(MRS. J. P. RICHTER)
WITH PORTRAITS AND ILLUSTRATIONS
LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.
1913

All Rights Reserved

TO MY DEAR FRIEND
MRS. LUDWIG MOND
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED

PREFACE

My first visit to Chantilly was in April 1904, when the Exhibition of the French Primitives at the Pavillon Marsan, following close on that at Bruges, raised interest and comment far outside the boundaries of France. I visited the Musée Condé with the intention of studying some more examples of the French fifteenth-and sixteenth-century art which had so much attracted me in Paris.

The high expectations I had conceived were not disappointed, and the result was that my studies in that marvellous collection were prolonged. Weeks grew into months. The Limbourgs, Jean Fouquet, and the Clouets held me in their spell; the Château of Chantilly, with the history of its famous owners, aroused my interest more and more.

Through the great courtesy of the late M. Anatol Gruyer and of M. Gustave Macon, Directors of the Musée Condé, I was given access to all the art-treasures within its walls and I was allowed to while away my time with the famous miniatures and drawings and with the pictures in which I was so much interested. Tranquil and undisturbed, often quite alone, meeting now and then only the furtive glance of one or other of the Museum attendants, who were always ready at hand to be of service, I was enabled to pursue my studies without interruption, owing to the great kindness of my friend M. Macon. The excellent Library, too, was at my disposal, as well as the manuscripts in the Cabinet des Livres.

Nor was that all. When at the end of the day the Museum doors were closed I could walk in the vast park of the Château along its shady avenues and watch the swans gliding on the silent waters, whilst the autumn leaves were the sport of the varying breezes. In that unbroken solitude Time, now long past, brought before me once more kings and queens, courtiers and warriors, ladies of beauty and fame: and amid my reveries I seemed to recognise the well-known faces whose representations I had just left in the galleries within. For was it not here, in these woods and on these lakes, that they had lived and feasted in the manner recorded in the chronicles of their time?

Thus, irresistibly attracted by degrees, I conceived the idea of writing about the history and the art at Chantilly: and I undertook a task which grew gradually in my hands to dimensions that at first I had not anticipated.

My chief study, as mentioned above, was intended to be on the French fifteenth-and sixteenth-century artists which the Duc d’Aumale so successfully collected. To the Italian and the Northern Schools and the later French periods at the Musée Condé I have purposely given but a passing mention, since they are equally well or better represented in other galleries.

The Bibliography which I have appended shows that much has been written on early French Art in France, especially during the last fifteen years; and I feel greatly indebted to authors such as Comte Leopold Delisle, Comte Paul Durrieu, MM. George Lafenestre, Anatol Gruyer, Louis Dimier, Gustave Macon, Moreau Nelaton, Sir Claude Phillips, Mr. Roger Fry and others, by whose works I have greatly profited, as also by my husband’s expert knowledge. But no book exactly covering this ground has as yet been written in the English language.

More than special acknowledgment and thanks are due to Mr. Robert H. Hobart Cust for his help and valuable suggestions. In the arduous task of revising the proofs of this book he was assisted by my son Mr. F. J. P. Richter. I have also great pleasure in expressing my deep gratitude to my dear friend Mrs. Ludwig Mond, whose constant encouragement was of inestimable value to me.

I am indebted to Mr. Murray for the personal interest he has so kindly shown in the many details which this work entails.

Louise M. Richter.

London, October 1913.

CONTENTS

LIST OF PLATES

AUTHORITIES CONSULTED

Duc d’Aumale:

Histoire des Princes de Condé pendant le XVI et le XVII siècle. 7 vols. Paris: Calman Levy, éditeur; Recueil Anglais Philobiblon Miscellanies.

Berenson, Bernhard:

A Sienese Painter of the Franciscan Legend, Stefano di Giovanni, called Sassetta, Burlington Magazine, 1903.

Amico di Sandro, Gazette des Beaux Arts, 1899.

The Study and Criticism of Italian Art. London: George Bell & Sons, 1901-1902.

Bouchot, Henri:

Les Primitifs Français, Librairie de l’Art Ancien et Moderne.

Les Clouets et Corneille de Lyon, Séries “Artistes Célèbres.”

Colvin, Sir Sidney:

Catalogue of Drawings at the British Museum.

Selected Drawings by Old Masters in the University Galleries and in the Library at Christ-Church, Oxford.

Cust, Lionel:

Some Portraits at the National Portrait Gallery, Studio, 1897.

Notes on the Authentic Portraits of Mary Queen of Scots. John Murray, 1903.

The Royal Collection at Buckingham Palace and Windsor, with an Introduction and Descriptive Text. 1906.

Cust, Robert H. Hobart:

The Life of Benvenuto Cellini. A New Version. George Bell & Sons, 1910.

Delisle, Count Leopold:

Les Livres d’Heures du Duc de Berry, Gazette des Beaux Arts, 1884.

Le Cabinet des Livres au Château de Chantilly, Revue de l’Art Ancien et Moderne, 1900.

Les Heures du Connétable de Montmorency, etc.

Dilke, Lady:

French Painters of the Eighteenth Century.

French Engravers and Draughtsmen. George Bell & Sons.

Dimier, Louis:

French Paintings in the Sixteenth Century. London: Duckworth & Co.

Durrieu, Count Paul:

Heures de Turin avec 45 feuillets à Peintures des “Très Belles Heures.” Paris: 1902.

Les Débuts de Van Eyck, Gazette des Beaux Arts, 1903.

Les Aventures de deux Splendides Livres d’Heures ayant appartenu au duc Jean de Berry, Revue de l’Art Ancien et Moderne, 1911.

Friedländer, Max:

Die Votivtafel des Etienne Chevalier von Fouquet, Jahrbuch der Königl. Preussischen Kunstsammlungen, 1896.

Die Brugger Leihaustellung, Repertorium für Kunstwissenschaft.

Fry, Roger:

The Exhibition of French Primitives, Burlington Magazine, 1904.

French Painting in the Middle Ages, Quarterly Review, 1904.

English Illuminated MSS. at the Burlington Fine Arts Club, 1908.

Gruyer, Anatole:

La Peinture au Château de Chantilly.

Les Quarante Fouquet.

Laborde, Marquis Léon:

Renaissance des Arts à la Cour de France.

Les ducs de Bourgogne.

Études sur les Lettres, les Arts et l’Industrie pendant le XV Siècle.

Lafenestre, George:

Les Primitifs à Bruges et à Paris, 1900, 1902, 1904, Librairie de l’Art Ancien et Moderne.

Jehan Fouquet, “Les Artistes de tous les temps.” Séries B.

Macon, Gustave:

Château de Chantilly et le Parc, Revue de l’Art Ancien et Moderne.

Chantilly et le Musée Condé, Librairie Renouard.

Mantz, Paul:

La Peinture Française du IX Siècle à la fin du XVI; Alcide Picard and Kaan, éditeur.

Maulde, de la Clavière:

Jean Perréal; Ernest Leroux, éditeurs.

Moreau-Nelaton, Etienne:

Les Le Mannier, Peintres officiels à la cour des Valois, Gazette des Beaux Arts, 1901.

Les Clouet, Peintres officiels des Rois de France.

Le Portrait à la cour des Valois et les Crayons français du 16ième siècle conservés au Musée Condé à Chantilly, Librairie des Beaux Arts, rue Lafayette.

Nolhac, Pierre de, et André Pératé:

Le Musée National de Versailles; Braun, Clément & Co.

Phillips, Sir Claude:

Impressions of the Bruges Exhibition, Fortnightly Review.

Masterpieces of French Art in the Eighteenth Century in Possession of the Emperor of Germany.

Turner, P. M., and C. H. Collins-Baker:

Stories of the French Artists from Clouet to Delacroix. London: Chatto & Windus, 1909.

Williams, H. Noel:

The Love-affairs of the Condés. Methuen & Co.

FIRST PART
CHANTILLY AND ITS HISTORY

CHAPTER I
CHANTILLY AND ITS OWNERS
The Montmorencys

THE Château of Chantilly, now known as the Musée Condé, the magnificent gift so generously bequeathed to the French nation by the late Duc d’Aumale, has experienced great changes and passed through many vicissitudes.

At a very early date a Gallo-Roman, by name Cantillius, fixed his abode upon an isolated rock, in the midst of wild forest and marshland; hence the name of Chantilly.

In the ninth century we find established here the Seigneurs of Senlis, who bore the name of Bouteillers, from their hereditary task of wine-controllers to the Kings of France—an honorary post which they held for some centuries. But the last scion of that sturdy race, having seen his castle pillaged during the Jacquerie of 1358, died without issue.

After changing hands through three decades, Chantilly in 1386 became the property of Pierre d’Orgemont, Chancellor to Charles V of France, who laid the foundations of an imposing feudal fortress, flanked by seven stately towers.

Several centuries later a change again occurred in the ownership of Chantilly. By default of male issue it passed into the possession of Jean II, Baron de Montmorency, who married Marguerite, sole heiress of the Orgemonts; and with this illustrious family Chantilly emerged from comparative obscurity into historical fame. Henceforth it became a favourite centre for the leading men of France, and within its hospitable walls kings and princes found sumptuous entertainment.

Matrimonial alliance in the beginning of the seventeenth century brought the property into the family of the Condés, a younger branch of the Bourbons; and later still, by the marriage of the last Prince de Condé with Princesse Bathilde d’Orléans, and the tragic death of their only son, the Duc d’Enghien, Chantilly passed into the possession of its last private owner, Prince Henri d’Orléans, Duc d’Aumale.

The family of the Montmorencys was well known and famous in France during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, but became extinct under Richelieu, who, for reasons of state, sent the last scion of that race, Henri de Montmorency, to the scaffold.

Plate II.

Photo. Giraudon.

GUILLAUME DE MONTMORENCY.
Attributed to J. Perréal.
Musée Condé.

Guillaume, son of Jean de Montmorency, who married the heiress of Chantilly, joined in an expedition to Italy under Charles VIII of France. There are portraits of him in the Louvre, and at Lyons, whilst a fine crayon drawing representing him in his younger days is to be found in the portfolios of the Musée Condé. He it was who, in 1515, constructed the Chapel of the Château, obtaining from Pope Leo X a bull for its foundation. He married Anne de Pot, and their eldest son was the famous Anne de Montmorency, known as the Grand Connétable. Queen Anne of Brittany held him at the baptismal font, conferring upon him her own name, and he was educated with the Duc d’Angoulême, afterwards King Francis I.

Anne de Montmorency in early youth distinguished himself by artistic taste, probably acquired at the Court of Louise of Savoy, mother of Francis I. No sooner had he succeeded his father as Lord of Chantilly than he endeavoured to create a mansion more in accordance with the refined taste of his time. Without demolishing the fortifications and the stately towers of the Orgemonts, he succeeded in introducing more light into the mediæval chambers by piercing their walls with large windows. He hung the interior of the castle with tapestries, and furnished it richly with the artistic spoils of his expeditions into Italy. He also commenced the formation of the famous Library, subsequently continued by the Condés until it reached the fame which it enjoyed under its latest owner, the Duc d’Aumale.

Under the Grand Connétable’s directions were executed the forty-four painted glass windows still at Chantilly. They illustrate the legend of Cupid and Psyche after cartoons by the school of Raphael, and were produced in France about 1546 by Jean Mangin and Leonard Gautier.

Montmorency’s artistic tastes, however, did not prevent him from being the greatest warrior of his time. Together with his maternal uncles, Gouffier de Boissy and Gouffier de Bonnivet, he was numbered among the so-called Preux who fought victoriously by the side of King Francis I, at the Battle of Marignan. He followed the King to Pavia, where he was made a prisoner with his Royal master, and in 1530 he was at Bayonne, to negotiate the release of the young Princes of Valois, who had been kept as hostages by the Emperor Charles V. After the Peace of Madrid he again fought against the Imperial troops in Picardy, and it was upon this occasion that he received the title of “Great Constable” of France.

In spite, however, of his great prowess he fell into disgrace with the King through the intrigues of Madame d’Estampes. As in the case of the Connétable de Bourbon, Francis I, ever fickle in his friendships, became so jealous of Montmorency’s fame that the latter was obliged at last to retire to Chantilly; where he employed his time in improving this favourite abode. He constructed on an island close to the older feudal castle, the fine Renaissance palace known as the Petit-Château, which by some miracle has remained almost intact to this day. It is probable that Jean Bullant, the architect of Ecouen, was consulted with regard to this Petit-Château at Chantilly, for the style of its architecture marks the transition between the mediæval Gothic and the period of the French Renaissance, and ranks it with buildings such as the châteaux of Chambord, Chenonceaux, d’Azay le Rideau, and Langeais.[1]

Plate III.

THE CHÂTEAU DE CHANTILLY.

This style, according to Viollet-le-Duc, grew up like the beech-trees and the willows near the Loire, and—as in the case of Chantilly—is often found side by side with feudal castles of a much older period; the owners of which, apparently unwilling to demolish their ancestral homes, preferred at the same time to occupy more modern and commodious residences.

The chief distinction between the French and Italian Renaissance is that the former is less conventional and offers less regularity of style in its building. It is a style that reached its climax in the châteaux of Blois and Chambord, each of which preserves some characteristics of the nobles who erected them, although the names of the actual architects, in spite of their undoubted creative skill, remain for the most part unknown. Such is the case with the Petit-Château of Chantilly.

Anne de Montmorency was an intimate friend of Diane de Poitiers, the friend and mistress of Henri II. This lady was owner of the Château of Clemonceaux, which no doubt served as a model to Montmorency when erecting his own new palace. The complete absence of documents with regard to this structure is greatly to be regretted, but the supposition that Jean Bullant, who was in constant relation with Pierre des Iles, known as “Maçon” of Chantilly, had a hand in its erection, as stated above, is by no means unreasonable. It is an architectural gem, and provoked the admiration of Leonardo da Vinci and Benvenuto Cellini, who both enjoyed hospitality within its walls.

Anne de Montmorency was created Duke by Henri II, and after the sudden death of that King he succeeded in securing the goodwill of Francis II and Charles IX. Queen Catherine de Medicis cordially disliked him, but nevertheless endeavoured to use him as a tool against the Huguenot Louis I de Bourbon, Prince de Condé.

In 1562 he won the battle of Dreux against Condé and Coligny, and he routed them again in 1567 at Saint-Denis, though at the sacrifice of his own life; for he was severely wounded, and died shortly afterwards in Paris.

Anne de Montmorency at various stages of his life is presented in a series of French drawings, dating from 1514, as a Preux de Marignan, down to his old age. There also exists a drawing of his wife Madeleine de Savoie. By a fortunate coincidence these drawings—of which we shall speak later on—have found their way back to Chantilly. In the stained-glass windows of the chapel, painted in 1544, may be seen portraits of his numerous children executed by Bardon after still-existing cartoons by Lechevallier Chevignard. In order to complete the family the Duc d’Aumale commissioned the artist Guifard to add on the walls of the same chapel portraits of the great Constable and his wife.

Photo. Giraudon.

ANNE DE MONTMORENCY.
François Clouet.
Musée Condé.

After the death of Anne de Montmorency, his eldest son François became Lord of Chantilly. He married Diane de France, whose portrait is also amongst the drawings in this collection. She was a natural daughter of Henri II, and widow, at the early age of eighteen, of Orazio Farnese, Duca di Castro. Brantôme says of her that it was not possible to see a lady mount on horseback like her, nor with better grace. The woods of Chantilly offered great opportunities to her passion for the chase, and it was probably for this reason that, in the company of her mother-in-law, Madeleine of Savoy, she made it her principal residence. Diane, so called after her godmother Diane de Poitiers, was a great favourite with her royal brothers, and after the death of her husband became known by the title of “Duchesse d’Angoulême.” Since she was childless, François de Montmorency was succeeded by his brother Henri, who distinguished himself as one of the strongest opponents of the Ligue. He, too, was created Constable, and subsequently assisted Henri IV in the reconquest of his kingdom. His second wife, Louise de Budos, died at the early age of twenty-three, soon after giving birth to a son and heir, called Henri after his father. Their elder child, a daughter, Charlotte, was renowned for her beauty; and Lord Herbert of Cherbury—who in his Memoirs describes Chantilly at that period—expressed a wish for her portrait in order that he might show it to the Queen of England. Invited by Henri de Montmorency to make a lengthened stay at Chantilly, he was so enchanted that he calls it “an incomparably fine residence, admired by the greatest princes of Europe.” He relates that the Emperor Charles V was received by the first Duc de Montmorency, Anne, the Grand Connétable, whilst on his way across France from Spain to the Netherlands; and that after that monarch had examined the castle with its moats, bridges, and extensive forests, he was so overcome with admiration that he said he would gladly give one of his provinces in the Netherlands for this unsurpassable residence.

Lord Herbert further discourses upon the hangings of silk adorned with gold, and of the pictures, statues, and works of art in the sumptuous chambers of the Château. He also mentions the huge carp and trout in the ponds, and the merry hunting parties attended along the avenues by packs of hounds.

Another great admirer of Chantilly was Henri IV, who was on terms of intimate friendship with Henri de Montmorency. This King was even accustomed to visit Chantilly during the absence of its owner, and had his own apartments there and his own garden, the so-called Jardin du Roy, of which he enjoyed superintending the arrangements.

There was, however, another reason for his numerous surprise visits: no less an object than Charlotte, Duke Henry’s beautiful daughter. Bereft of her mother, as we have seen, at an early age, she was presented at the French Court by her aunt, the Duchesse d’Angoulême, and her beauty, as described by Bentivoglio, seems to have been of so irresistible a charm that it made a deep impression on the fancy of the gallant King. So great indeed was the admiration which he displayed for the young Charlotte de Montmorency that it became a matter of public notoriety, and throws a curious light upon the famous personages of that period and their morals.

Although Charlotte had not yet attained her fifteenth year, a marriage had been arranged for her with the brilliant Bassompière, at that time a great favourite with the King. His Majesty had given his consent to the marriage; but he nevertheless one day made the following proposals to Bassompière: “Listen! I wish to speak to you as a friend. I am in love with Mademoiselle de Montmorency, and that even madly. If you marry her and she loves you, I should hate you; if she loved me, she would hate you. Now, for the sake of our mutual friendship, it would be better that this marriage should not take place, for I love you with real affection and inclination. I have therefore resolved to arrange a marriage between Mademoiselle de Montmorency and my nephew the Prince de Condé in order to keep her near me. She will thus be the consolation of my old age. To my nephew, who prefers the chase to the ladies, I shall give 100,000 francs a year and claim nothing for it in return but the affection of the newly-married couple!” After this confession, poor Bassompière understood that he had better comply with the King’s wishes, and the fair Charlotte was therefore married to Henri II de Bourbon, third Prince de Condé. The wedding was celebrated at Chantilly with much pomp, and the King lavished splendid jewels and rich dresses upon his new niece, making no secret of the admiration he cherished for her. He spoke of it as only a fatherly affection; but in spite of his good intentions his fancy took the character of so violent a passion that he could not control it. Condé, not insensible to what was going on, purposely retired to his remotest country-seats so as to protect his wife from the gallantries of the King; but, unable to endure her absence, Henri appeared disguised as a falconer at one of the hunting parties, whereupon Charlotte, who was present, fainted on recognising him. His distress at being separated from his “bel ange” was so great that even the Queen, Marie de Medicis, took pity on him, and entreated Condé to return with his charming wife to Court, and Malesherbes sang the amours of the King in glowing love-poems. Condé, considering the honour of his young wife at stake, carried her off instead to the Netherlands, on a visit to his sister the Princess of Orange. When the King heard of this he was furious, and asserted that the charming Princess had been compelled to leave her country by force. He sent a captain of his own Guard to explain the matter to the Archduchess Isabella, at that time Governess of the Netherlands, whilst Chaussé, a police official, was ordered to follow up the fugitives and prevent their reaching Belgium. Chaussé actually overtook the Princess, who, having been obliged to leave her carriage near the River Somme, had broken down after a fifteen hours’ ride on horseback.

Plate V.

HENRI II DE BOURBON, PRINCE DE CONDÉ. GENEVIÈVE DE BOURBON.
Musée Condé.

But we cannot digress here to pursue this love-affair of Henri IV and Charlotte de Montmorency. Suffice it to say that, transferred to foreign territory, it immediately became a cause célèbre, and even threatened for a time to create serious political disturbances between France and Spain. The fact that the Regent of the Netherlands, in order to please both parties, allowed the Princesse de Condé to prolong her visit to the Princess of Orange but at the same time ordered her husband to leave the Netherlands within three days, was severely commented upon by the Marchese Ambrogio di Spinola, at that time representative at Brussels of the Spanish Court.

This valiant captain, originally a Genoese merchant, had equipped 9,000 men at his own cost, and with them had succeeded—where so many had failed—in confronting Prince Maurice of Nassau and terminating the siege of Ostend. Reduced after this exploit to comparative inactivity, he hailed an opportunity likely to bring about a conflict between personages of such importance as Henri IV of France and the King of Spain.

There was, moreover, another motive for Spinola’s pertinacity in retaining the Princesse de Condé in the Netherlands in spite of the most urgent entreaties of the gallant King. He himself was also suspected of having become enamoured of that dangerous beauty, and he alleged that it was quite against Spanish etiquette that Henri II de Bourbon, Prince de Condé, a Prince of the Blood Royal of France, should not have received the honours due to his rank while passing through the Netherlands. Condé, who, leaving his young wife with the Princess of Orange, had already departed to Cologne, was therefore recalled. He saw his wife, and received a gracious welcome from the Archduchess and the Prince and Princess of Orange; and then, accompanied by his secretary, in a violent snowstorm and under Spanish escort, he left for Milan, secretly determined to seek the assistance of Philip II, King of Spain, against the grievous wrong done to him by Henri IV.

The gallant King enjoyed the rôle of Lancelot, and the fair Charlotte was rather proud of his attentions, so that their amours became a subject of discussion and comment throughout the whole of Europe. It was even alleged that Henri IV was preparing for war against the Netherlands to obtain by force the return of the Princesse de Condé, held in bondage by the Archduchess Isabella in Flanders. This, however, was in truth but a pretext on the part of the King; for in spite of the libertinism in which His Majesty indulged on this occasion, and which seemed for the moment to overcloud his sense of right and wrong, we must remember that Henri IV always proved himself a patriot, and one whose constant endeavour it was to advance the welfare of France. We may, therefore, surmise with the late Duc d’Aumale that it was chiefly his desire to liberate Europe from the Austrian yoke, and thus give to France the position he wished her to hold—not merely the beaux yeux of the Princesse de Condé—which actually induced him to prepare for war. Nevertheless he so successfully frightened the Archduchess Isabella that she agreed to let the Princess depart at last.

In the midst, however, of all these unsolved problems Henri IV was suddenly struck down by the hand of Ravaillac, and as soon as the news reached Condé, who was already on his way to Spain, he immediately returned to France and made a temporary truce with the Regent, Marie de Medicis. But to his wife he seemed unforgiving, requesting her father, Henri de Montmorency, to keep her at Chantilly.

CHAPTER II
CHANTILLY AND THE CONDÉS

THE family of Condé derived their origin from the French town Henegau, in Flanders, where a certain Godefroy de Condé owned part of the barony of Condé as early as 1200. In 1335 his great-granddaughter married Jacob de Bourbon, who in due course became the ancestor of the Royal branch of the Bourbons. His second son received for his inheritance the barony of Condé, and it was one of his descendants, Louis de Bourbon, who eventually took the title of “Prince de Condé.” This Louis was one of the many sons of the Duc de Vendôme, only surviving brother of the famous Constable, Charles de Bourbon, who met a premature death at the Sack of Rome in 1527: a turbulent spirit who caused Henry VIII to say to Francis I, “Mon frère de France a là un sujet dont je ne voudrais pas être le maître.”

Plate VI.

Photo. Giraudon.

ANTOINE DE BOURBON. CHARLOTTE DE LA TREMOILLE.
School of François Clouet. School of François Clouet.
Musée Condé

To face page 26.

The eldest brother Antoine de Bourbon, by his marriage with Jeanne d’Albret (daughter of Marguerite, sister of Francis I), became King of Navarre; and their son, Henri IV, succeeded to the throne of France on the death of Henri III de Valois. Louis de Bourbon, first Prince de Condé,[2] married Eleonore de Roye, granddaughter of Louise de Montmorency, a sister of the famous Constable Anne and mother of the Huguenot chief, Gaspard de Coligny. It was no doubt owing to the influence of his wife Eleonore—so named after the second wife of Francis I—that the Prince de Condé embraced the Protestant cause, and was thenceforward regarded by the Huguenots as one of their leaders. Eleonore was on terms of great intimacy with her sister-in-law, Jeanne d’Albret, Queen of Navarre, who had herself become a Protestant; and one may fairly assert that if Antoine de Bourbon, King of Navarre, and his brother Louis de Condé, had in any way equalled their noble wives in pious sentiment and religious fervour, the Protestant Faith in France would never have been nipped in the bud, but would have become as firmly established there as it did in England and Germany.

As it was, the Guises of Lorraine who embraced the Catholic cause gained considerable ground after the death of Henri II, through their cousin Mary Stuart, Queen of France; and with the ostensible object of furthering this cause, they also tried to supplant the Bourbon Princes, Antoine de Navarre and Louis de Bourbon Condé, who were by right nearer the throne. The latter during the reign of Francis II was thrown into prison for high treason, under a false accusation brought against him by the Guises, and condemned to death. In her despair, his unhappy wife, Eleonore, threw herself upon her knees before the King, imploring permission for a last interview. The young King was about to relent; but the Cardinal of Lorraine, fearing that she might attain her object, drove her roughly from the Royal presence. The unscrupulous Guises had even conceived a plan of making away with this Princess before her husband; for (as a contemporary writer tells us) they feared her intellect and courage in proclaiming her husband’s innocence. They hoped to get rid, not only of her, but also of the King of Navarre and the Châtillons. But at this juncture a change occurred in political affairs.

Plate VII.

Photo. Giraudon.

LOUIS I. DE BOURBON, PRINCE DE CONDÉ. HENRI I. DE BOURBON, PRINCE DE CONDÉ.
School of François Clouet. School of François Clouet.
Musée Condé.

Francis II, whose health had always been delicate, suddenly showed alarming symptoms of decline. Catherine, the Royne Mère, cast about to get the Regency into her own hands; and in order to check the steadily growing power of the Guises, she resolved to recall the Bourbons, promising to save Condé from death if they would accept her as Regent. The King of Navarre, Antoine de Bourbon, consented to her proposition in order to save his brother. The terrified Guises entreated Catherine to keep Condé still in prison; since he would, if set at liberty, get the better of them all. It is characteristic to note that when the state of the King’s health became desperate, the Guises were wholly without sympathy; though we read that Mary Stuart nursed her dying husband with tenderest solicitude. As soon as the King had breathed his last, Gaspard de Coligny addressed these memorable words to those who stood by: “Messieurs, le roi est mort, çela nous apprend à vivre.”

The death of Francis II opened Condé’s prison doors; whereupon he insisted on proving his innocence, and claiming punishment for those who had caused his incarceration. The Guises began to tremble, and their friends trembled with them. Meantime, Catherine de Medicis, always intent on her own interests, tried to placate the Protestant nobility, and even showed toleration for the Protestant cult in various parts of France. She endeavoured to entice Condé to her Court through the charms of one of her Court ladies—the beautiful Isabelle de Limeuil—in order to make him an instrument for her own purposes. Brantôme, with reference to this, speaks of Louis de Bourbon as a man of corrupt morals. Nor could he resist the passion shown for him by Marguerite de Lustrac, widow of the Maréchal de Saint-André, from whom he accepted the magnificent château of Valery, with its vast appanage, originally intended as a dowry for Mademoiselle de Saint-André, the affianced bride of his own son Henri I de Bourbon, who had died young, poisoned, it is said, by her mother. Condé’s irregular habits called for the severe rebuke of Calvin, and his noble wife Eleonore was broken-hearted over them.

Antoine, King of Navarre, the eldest of the brothers, also became a puppet in the hands of the Queen-Mother and the Guises, who deliberately provoked the sanguinary conflicts at Vassy between the Huguenots and the Catholics.

Jeanne d’Albret, who sided with the Protestants, left the Court in consequence, and to the great regret of Eleonore, retired to her kingdom of Navarre. Had the husbands of these two great ladies been equally desirous of keeping the peace the Massacre of St. Bartholomew would never have taken place. Indeed, when Eleonore de Roye died at the early age of twenty-eight the Protestants of France lost faith in Condé as their leader, believing that it was through her influence alone that he served their cause.

When Eleonore felt her end approaching she sent a messenger for her husband and upon his hurrying to her bedside most generously forgave him for all his infidelities. Her eldest son, Henri I de Bourbon, who had shared all her anxieties and who had been her constant companion, listened with deep emotion to her exhortations to his father that he should remain true to the Protestant Faith; and the memory of this noble woman prevailed with Condé after her death.

Plate VIII.

Photo Giraudon.

FRANÇOIS II. KING OF FRANCE.
Francois Clouet.
Bibl. Nar. Paris.

To face page 20.

The intriguing Catherine, after much wavering, then declared herself upon the Catholic side, and compelled Michel de l’Hôpital, who had tried to reconcile the two parties, to resign. The consequence of this decision was the bloody battle of Jarnac, where Condé died the death of a hero. No one could deny that he loved and honoured France, and that he was a great warrior. Even the Guises, his implacable enemies, endeavoured to conciliate him, and tried to arrange, after his wife’s death, a marriage between him and Mary Stuart. How different, if this alliance had been accomplished, would have been the destinies of that ill-fated Queen![3]

Henri I de Bourbon[4] succeeded his father as Prince de Condé, and secured the friendship of Jeanne d’Albret, Queen of Navarre; so that when the Huguenots, after the disaster of Jarnac, shut themselves up in La Rochelle, the widow of Antoine de Bourbon appeared in their midst and presented to them her son Henri de Béarn, together with his cousin the young Prince de Condé. Under the guidance of Gaspard de Coligny these two young Princes were received amongst the leaders of the Protestant army, at that time in a critical position and in great pecuniary straits. The young Prince de Condé disposed of most of his jewels, whilst Coligny and Jeanne d’Albret made similar sacrifices. These jewels were sent to Queen Elizabeth of England as security for a sum of money forwarded by her to the Protestant forces.

Coligny seems to have thought highly of the abilities of the young Condé Prince, to whom he deputed the command in his absence.

It is indeed remarkable that so fervent a Calvinist as Jeanne d’Albret should have consented to the engagement of her son to Margot de France, youngest daughter of Catherine de Medicis. It is true that the horrors of St. Bartholomew had not then taken place, nor had the close ties of relationship between the houses of Valois and Navarre at that date been loosened. At the same time a marriage was arranged by Jeanne d’Albret between Henri de Condé and Marie de Clève, daughter of the Duc de Nevers and Marguerite de Bourbon. This lady was rich, accomplished, and of rare beauty; and it was an open secret at the time that the Duc d’Anjou (afterwards King Henri III) was madly in love with her.

Plate IX.

Photo. Giraudon.

JEANNE D’ALBRET, QUEEN OF NAVARRE.
François Clouet.
Musée Condé.

To face page 21.

The marriage of the Prince de Condé was an occasion for great rejoicing amongst the Protestant party, when all at once news arrived of the sudden death of Queen Jeanne d’Albret under suspicious circumstances. It was rumoured that Catherine de Medicis wished to remove her before the nuptials of her son Henri of Navarre and Margot de France. The douce enfant (as Francis I called her, when Dauphine of France) had schooled herself well to the difficult position in which as a young wife she found herself with Diane de Poitiers; but as Queen-mother and Regent she developed into a false and ambitious woman, who actually planned the carnage of St. Bartholomew on the eve of her own daughter’s marriage to the chief of the Huguenot party.

It does not enter into our present work to describe the horrors for which she was responsible on that occasion, but it is sufficient to say that Gaspard de Coligny found his death, whilst the lives of Condé and of the King of Navarre were only spared on the condition that they abjured the Protestant Faith. Condé, however, at first persisted in a refusal, although his young wife obeyed. For this reason he was summoned before the boy King, Charles IX, who, advancing towards him, called out, “The Mass, Death, or the Bastille, Choose!” “God will not allow,” said Condé quietly, “that I choose the first, my King! The two other alternatives are at your pleasure.” In a fury, the King rushed upon him and would have slain him then and there, had not the Queen, Elizabeth of Austria—the only redeeming feature of this contemptible Court—thrown herself at the feet of her husband to prevent him. Finally, however, the two Bourbon Princes did attend Mass, and the Cardinal de Bourbon gave Condé and his bride the nuptial benediction in the church of St. Germain des Prés.

But this was not enough; for both Navarre and Condé were forced to fight against those very Huguenots whose leaders they had been; and they were compelled to march under the command of the Duc d’Anjou against that same La Rochelle where Condé had passed so many years with his noble friend Gaspard de Coligny, engaged in furthering the Protestant cause.

In 1574, however, upon the death of Charles IX, Condé and Henri of Navarre again joined the Protestant forces. Not so Marie de Clève, who was even trying to make this a plea for a separation when she died suddenly in giving birth to a daughter.[5] Twelve years later Condé contracted another marriage, with Charlotte Catherine de la Trémoille.

We propose in this brief sketch of the Condé family, who eventually became Lords of Chantilly, to say something also regarding the lives of the Princesses de Condé, since some of them rank amongst the most noble and interesting women of their time. Charlotte de la Trémoille[6] was the daughter of the Duc de Thouars and Jeanne de Montmorency. She lived with her mother in the fortified castle of Taillebourg, and was of a romantic turn of mind and very handsome. Condé, presented by her brother, the young Duc de Thouars, whilst he chanced to be in the neighbourhood, paid a visit to the young lady; and although of the opposite party—for the Trémoilles were Catholics—he came unattended. He showed her more attention than was his usual custom, so that she fell in love with him. She was but seventeen years of age, whilst Condé was by that time thirty-three, but without an heir to his name. He had a fine head and well-cut features; his expression was pensive, and betrayed a delicate and nervous constitution. The fact of his being a Prince of the Blood Royal and of illustrious lineage stimulated, no doubt, Mademoiselle de la Trémoille’s poetic imagination.

When, after the disaster of Angers, Condé was compelled to go into hiding in Guernsey whilst vainly soliciting the help of Queen Elizabeth, he saw one morning two well-equipped ships approaching the harbour. The captain of the party presently sent one of his officers to the Prince, bearing a letter from Charlotte de la Trémoille begging him to make use of these, her ships. Condé, who had remained so long a helpless prisoner on the island, embarked at once, and upon his arrival at La Rochelle found the Princess awaiting him at that port.

A few days later the wedding was celebrated quietly at the Château de Taillebourg: both the Princess and her brother having become adherents of the Reformed Faith before that event took place.

In 1587 a daughter was born to Condé, named Eleonore after her noble grandmother, who subsequently married the Prince of Orange.

In that same year (1587) the eighth and last religious war broke out in France, known as the War of the Four Henris—Henri III, Henri de Guise, Henri of Navarre, and Henri de Bourbon Condé. The first battle was fought at Coutras, between the Duc de Joyeuse, who commanded 7,000 men for Henri III, and the joint forces of Henri of Navarre and Henri de Condé, who had between them but 5,000 men. The fight was a prolonged one and ended in a victory for the two Bourbons, who both greatly distinguished themselves, “Messieurs,” cried Navarre, before the fight began, “souvenez vous que vous êtes de la maison de Bourbon. Vive Dieu! Je vous ferai voir que je suis votre ainé!” “Et nous, vous montrerons des bons cadets,” replied Condé.

But Duc Henri de Guise presently restored the fortunes of the Catholics by the victories of Vimory and Auneau, wherein no less than twenty thousand Protestants perished.

Henri III, true Valois that he was, was not, however, grateful to the victor. Jealous of his success and growing popularity, he caused him to be foully murdered at the Château of Blois, whither he had summoned him from Paris. The Cardinal de Lorraine, his brother, shared his fate.

Even Catherine de Medicis, then on her deathbed, was horrified at her son’s treachery towards the Guises, who had fought so ably for the Catholic cause. “Vous avez fait mourir le duc de Guise!” she exclaimed; “Dieu veuille que vous vous trouviez bien de l’action que vous venez de faire. Mais vous ne pouvez, je crois, vous en felicitez. Ce n’est pas tout de tailler, il faut savoir coudre.”

Plate X.

CATHERINE DE MEDICIS. HENRI II.
Attributed to Corneille de Lyon. François Clouet.
Musée Condé. Bibl. Nat. Paris.

To face page 26.

When the news of the murder of the two Guises became known in Paris, greatest public indignation was aroused; and the Sorbonne declared that France ought to strive earnestly against such a King. In order to save himself, the wretched King made overtures to Henri of Navarre, addressing him as “brother.” A reconciliation took place between them, and together they laid siege to Paris with an army of 40,000 men. Before, however, the assault took place, Henri III was murdered by a fanatic monk, designating with his last breath Henri of Navarre as his successor to the throne of France, but imploring him at the same time to embrace the Catholic Faith.

The crown thus devolved upon Henri de Bourbon, King of Navarre, as lineal descendant of Robert de Clermont, sixth son of Saint Louis; whilst Henri de Bourbon Condé, his cousin, became heir-presumptive. The health of the latter, however, began to fail, owing partly to an injury incurred by a fall from his horse, and partly to severe attacks of fever. Trusting to a partial recovery, he ventured too soon into the saddle, being, according to a contemporary writer, over-fond of riding, and in consequence suffered a relapse which ended fatally. Tifburn, the faithful custodian of the Château de Saint-Jean d’Angely, thus describes his unexpected death: “I was the person selected to report this sad mischance to the Princess, and I found her coming down the stairs of the large apartment to visit her husband. He had been ill, and had become worse since the day before, but none would have supposed the end was so near. When she saw me so downcast she pressed me to tell her what had occurred. When she heard the sad news she fainted, and had to be transported to her bed, where she sobbed and cried and would not be consoled.”

Henri IV, on hearing of this disaster, hastened to Saint-Jean d’Angely; but on the way information reached him that two of the Princesse de Condé’s servants—her page, Belcastle, and a valet—had suddenly disappeared, and that they had fled on two horses, kept in readiness for them by one Brillant, known to be a procurer employed at the castle. On hearing this, he turned the bridle of his horse, unwilling to interview the widowed Princess.

In a letter to la belle Corisande, Duchesse de Grammont, he writes regarding this incident as follows: “Jeudy, le Prince de Condé ayant couru la bague, il soupa se portant bien. A minuit lui prit un vomissement très violent, qui luy dura jusqu’au matin. Tout le Vendredy il demeura au lit. Le soir il soupa, et ayant bien dormi, il se leva le Samedi matin, dina debout, et puis joua aux eschecs. Il se leva, se mit a promener par sa chambre, devisant avec l’un et avec l’autre. Tant d’un coup il dit: ‘Baillez moi ma chaise, je sens une grande faiblesse.’ Il n’y fut assis qu’il perdit sa parole, et soudain après il rendit l’âme, et les marques du poison sortirent soudainement.”

When Brillant was interrogated, he denied everything, but under torture he made admissions which greatly compromised the widow of the dead Condé. Subsequent versions of the story stated first that the Catholic party had administered the poison; and later that the Prince had died a death in full accordance with the malady from which he was suffering. Nevertheless the poor Princess had to bear the burden of this terrible charge. She was allowed to remain in her own apartments only until she gave birth to a son, who was pronounced by all who saw him to greatly resemble the late Prince de Condé; and the fact that Henri ultimately consented to become godfather to the child destroyed all false accusations. For many years, however, she was kept under close guard at Saint-Jean d’Angely; and in the archives at Thouars there still exist some touching letters from her to her mother and to the Constable de Montmorency, asserting her innocence and imploring help. She also describes her straitened circumstances, her allowance being quite insufficient to supply the needs of her children, Eleonore and Henri. Throughout all her trials she behaved with singular fortitude, until at length, when her son Henri de Bourbon was recognised as the legitimate son of his father, and thenceforth held the position of heir-presumptive, she was allowed to return to Court. De Thou even obtained an order directing the French Parlement to come immediately to Saint-Germain to salute the Prince as heir to the throne until it should please God to give children to the King himself. Henri IV displayed considerable anxiety that his heir should receive the best possible education, and that he should embrace the Catholic Faith, as he himself had done. Thus the tradition of the Princes de Condé as Huguenot Princes was abruptly broken; and Charlotte Catherine de la Trémoille also abjured the Protestant Faith with great ceremony at Rouen. She then endeavoured to conciliate the Catholic party, but they never forgave her for the great services which she had rendered Condé at Guernsey.

In the preceding chapter we have related the matrimonial adventures of this Prince, and how when Henri IV fell passionately in love with his young wife, the beautiful Charlotte de Montmorency, he fled with her to the Netherlands to seek the protection of Eleonore, Princess of Orange, until the death of the King.[7]

On his return he became the principal factor in opposing the government of Richelieu, for he was highly dissatisfied that the Regency during the minority of Louis XIII had not passed to him, as premier Prince of the Blood, but had been seized upon by the Queen-Mother before he could reach France. The government of Berry was given to him with one and a half million of francs as a sort of compensation—which, however, did not satisfy him. Subsequently he was accused of having designs on the throne, and although this was not proved, Richelieu, in the name of the Regent, had him arrested. He was imprisoned in the Bastille and treated most rigorously as a State criminal. It is greatly to the credit of his wife that she volunteered to share his captivity. It was most touching how she arrived at the Bastille accompanied by her little dwarf, who refused to be separated from her. A journal[8] of that time states that the meeting of the Princess with her unfortunate husband was most affectionate, and that he repentantly asked her forgiveness for past wrongs.

Owing to his precarious state of health he was soon after removed to the Château of Vincennes, where he was allowed more liberty, and there he could take exercise on the top of a thick wall built in the form of a gallery. The poor Princess, once so radiant in beauty, suffered cruelly; and at the birth of a still-born son her life was despaired of.

At last, after nearly three years of imprisonment when her little daughter Geneviève de Bourbon was born, their prison-walls opened and they were free at last.

But presently Henri de Montmorency, the Princess’s brother, who had but recently succeeded his father as Lord of Chantilly, was thrown into a dungeon, whence he only emerged to be guillotined later at Toulouse. Unfortunately he had sided with Gaston, the King’s brother, in a conspiracy against the mighty Cardinal. In vain his wife, Marie Felice Orsini, pleaded for her husband. She herself was imprisoned for two years for doing so; and when finally released, retired for the rest of her life to a convent at Moulins, where she was known and much beloved as “Sister Marie.”

The whole property of the last Montmorency, the last scion of so illustrious a race, was confiscated after his execution, and Chantilly fell to the Crown. A house called La Cabotière, bearing to this day the Royal coat-of-arms, marks this transition period; and not far from it is the so-called Maison de Sylvie, which recalls Marie Felice Orsini. It was there that she and her husband hid the poet Théophile de Viau, who had been condemned to death; and from this retreat he sang in charming verses the beauty and the noble qualities of the Princess under the name of “Sylvie.”

These cruelties against the Montmorencys and the Condés, Louis XIII in after-years never ceased to regret, and when on his deathbed he wished to atone for them he summoned Henri II, Prince de Condé, and told him that Chantilly should be restored to his wife, the Princess, as sister of the last Montmorency. Thus Chantilly came back to its rightful owners.

CHAPTER III
THE GRAND CONDÉ

WITH Charlotte, wife of Prince Henri II de Condé, Chantilly passed into the possession of the Princes of Bourbon Condé, and its history from that date becomes part of the history of France. The son of Charlotte, Louis II de Bourbon, when barely twenty-two years of age, was already called the “Hero,” in consequence of his victory at Rocroy (1643) over the German and Spanish armies. This famous descendant of Huguenot Princes was, at the age of four years, baptized a Roman Catholic, with great pomp, in the Cathedral at Bourges. Both Marie de Medicis, the Queen-Regent, and Charlotte de la Trémoille, the Dowager Princess de Condé, were present; and the infant Prince, though so young, recited his Credo without a hitch. His education was subsequently placed in the hands of the Jesuit Fathers at Bourges, who commended his clear intellect and excellent memory. He received the title of “Duc d’Enghien,” a title which became thereafter hereditary in the Condé family.

His father, Prince Henri II de Condé, thought it wise, after the execution of his brother-in-law Henri de Montmorency and his own imprisonment, to contract a matrimonial alliance with the all-powerful Cardinal; especially as Richelieu was obsessed by the desire that one of his nieces should become a Royal Princess. A marriage was therefore arranged between the twelve-year-old Duc d’Enghien and the little Claire-Clemence, then barely five. This mariage de convenance brought no happiness to the parties concerned, and ended in completely crushing the unloved wife. In a book recently published, “Sur la femme du Grand Condé,”[9] the excellent qualities of Claire-Clemence—so little appreciated during her lifetime—have been set out for us. At a court where women were chiefly given over to pleasure and amusement, it is but natural that soberer qualities such as hers should have passed unnoticed, or even have aroused opposition. Between her brilliant mother-in-law, Charlotte de Montmorency, and her beautiful but vain sister-in-law, Geneviève de Bourbon[10] (subsequently Madame de Longueville), to the courtiers of her time Claire-Clemence appeared to be lacking both in beauty and savoir-faire. A fall on the very day of her marriage, caused by her high heels when dancing a minuet which Anne of Austria had opened with the Duc d’Enghien, was recorded with great glee by the Grande Mademoiselle, daughter of Gaston d’Orléans. The prospects of this new establishment were not exactly promising, since Claire-Clemence received no support from her parents, whom she hardly knew. When her uncle, the Cardinal, decided to make an instrument of her to serve his purposes, he took her away from her egoistical and immoral father, the Maréchal de Brézé, and her sickly mother, who suffered from transitory attacks of madness. Claire-Clemence had been educated, therefore, in accordance with the high station for which she was intended. After her marriage Richelieu watched over her welfare and superintended arrangements by which she and her princely husband should have a suitable establishment in Paris; where, it was said, the young couple led un train de Prince.

Presently, however, the sharp-eyed Cardinal became aware that the Duc d’Enghien was neglecting his young wife, and was constantly in the company of the charming Marthe de Vigeau, of whom he had become wildly infatuated and whom he constantly met at the house of his sister. His Eminence, therefore, decided to send the young Duke to Burgundy, of which province he was supposed to be the Governor; and for Claire-Clemence he arranged a temporary retirement in the convent of Saint-Denis, there to escape the intrigues which would, as he said, naturally arise round a young wife so completely neglected by her husband. She was accompanied to the convent by a small Court, consisting of Madame la Princesse Douarière de Condé, Madame d’Aiguillon, Madame de Longueville, and Mademoiselle de la Croix. This last was her constant companion, and wrote to Richelieu that Her Serene Highness did everything in the convent which His Eminence desired her to do. In very truth she soon became a great favourite at Saint-Denis, where she did a great deal of good among the sick and poor.

Plate XI.

THE GRAND CONDÉ.
Musée Condé.

David Teniets.

Meanwhile the Duc d’Enghien, to annoy the Cardinal, led a very gay life in Burgundy, in obstinate defiance of the remonstrances of his father. Finally, he was compelled by Richelieu’s orders to leave Burgundy and join the Minister at Narbonne. There is no doubt that the Duc d’Enghien, inordinately proud by nature, was suffering keenly under the tyranny of the haughty Cardinal, who, although wishing his nephew-in-law well, derived a certain amount of satisfaction from the spectacle of this proud-spirited young Duke submissive to his yoke. The following incident is an illustration of this. It was a long-accepted fact that Cardinal Richelieu, as Prime Minister to his Majesty the King, should claim precedence over the Princes of the Blood Royal. But that Mazarin, just created Cardinal, should on his return from Italy also have this privilege was—the young Duc d’Enghien thought—most improper. Richelieu, on hearing of this, took up the cause of Mazarin, and even asked d’Enghien to visit his brother, the Cardinal of Lyons. D’Enghien, fearing that this Cardinal would also claim precedence over him at Lyons, merely sent one of his attendants to salute him. Richelieu was furious at this, would accept no excuse, and desired the Duke to purge his fault at Lyons, on his way back. D’Enghien, compelled by his father, the Prince de Condé, to submit to Richelieu’s demand, was greatly chagrined. Moreover, a message reached him immediately afterwards to join his wife at Paris, since she was ill. He was also informed that the details of his private life—in which he was the lover of many women but not the husband of the one woman who was his wife—were well known. So severe a reproof seemed at last to produce some effect upon him, and he returned to his wife, who quickly recovered her health and spirits when she found that her husband was kindly disposed towards her.

Richelieu, who had watched d’Enghien since his childhood, remembered the distinctions he had acquired as student at Bourges, and was shrewd enough to see that the young man would more than fulfil the high expectations placed in him. He therefore knew what he was doing when he allied the young Condé to his own family, and selected him and Henri de la Tour d’Auvergne (known in history as Turenne) as Commanders-in-chief of the French Army.

After the death of Richelieu, the King, Louis XIII, showed the high regard he cherished for his great minister by confirming and adhering to all the dispositions made by him before he passed away. Amongst these were the appointments of Condé and Turenne as Generals of the French troops sent to check the advancing forces of the Spaniards. It was a choice which showed the rare capacity of this remarkable minister in finding the right man for the right place. Turenne was thirty-one years of age, whilst Condé was but twenty-one. Marie de Medicis and her party thought Condé too young for so important a post, but Louis XIII was not to be dissuaded; and to Condé he gave the command of the army in Picardy.

This war had been going on between France and Spain for more than ten years. It revolved around those frontier regions to the north, near the Somme and the Oise, which divide the original possessions of the Kings of France from those of the former Dukes of Burgundy; and in 1643 it was carried on with great ardour by the Spaniards under their General, Don Francisco Melo, and his lieutenants, Fountain and Beck. With them the Duc d’Enghien was confronted near Rocroy. On the night before the battle the future hero was asleep amongst his soldiers on the bare ground when all at once a French horseman who had taken service amongst the Spaniards presented himself and asked permission to speak to the General. In a subdued voice he told him that the Spaniards had prepared an attack for seven o’clock that very morning. On hearing this Condé at once called for his horse, his arms, and the traditional hat with the white plume, which, since the time of Henri IV, had become the special badge of a Commander-in-chief of the French Army. The Duc d’Aumale, in his “Histoire des Princes de Condé,” relates with much spirit the issue of this battle. He tells us how Condé was at first repulsed by Isembourg, and then how, by a sudden change of tactics in attacking the rear, he reaped a complete victory.

The King, tossing upon a sick-bed, was full of anxiety regarding the issue of this war. He had had a dream, or rather a vision, which he narrated to the Prince de Condé (father of the Duc d’Enghien) who sat near his bedside. “I have,” he said in a faint voice, “seen your son advancing towards the enemy. The fight was sharp, and the victory was for a long time undecided; but at last it was ours.” These are said to have been the last words of Louis XIII.

A few days later, whilst the Requiem Mass for His Majesty was being sung at Saint-Denis, it became known that Louis de Bourbon, the Duc d’Enghien, had gained the battle of Rocroy, and from that time he bore the name of the “Grand Condé.” The flag taken on this occasion from the Spaniards may still be seen at Chantilly in the gallery where paintings by Sauveur Lecomte record his famous deeds. It is now reckoned amongst the most precious trophies of France, since most of those preserved at the Invalides were destroyed in 1814. All Paris desired to see the Spanish flag taken at Rocroy, and it was therefore exhibited publicly at the Louvre, at Notre Dame, and on the Quai. Congratulations poured in upon the Condés, and the Duc d’Enghien was pointed out as the hero who had won the first battle for the new four-year-old King. His father, full of pride, wished him to return to Paris to receive the ovations of the people; but, like a true strategist, the Duke was anxious before all else to reap the advantages of his victory. In a characteristic letter to his father, who was urging him to come home, he explained that the enemy had invaded France, and that he felt that he must remain at the head of his regiment in order to serve his country, at least as long as their foes were on French soil.

His next act was to attack Thionville on the Moselle, upon which occasion he succeeded in separating the troops commanded by Beck from the main army in the Netherlands, thus displaying a great example of military skill. It was, however, no longer from Louis XIII that he received his orders, but from Mazarin and the amiable but weak and irresolute Anne of Austria. Condé, in spite of his youth, had therefore to act on his own responsibility. In the spring of 1645 he won with Turenne the great battle of Nördlingen,[11] where he completely defeated the Austro-Spanish general Mercy.

The Duc d’Aumale, a military man of great distinction himself, speaks of the three victorious battles of Rocroy, Thionville, and Nördlingen as most important in their results, unblemished by any sort of reverse. He attributes to the Grand Condé all the qualities necessary for a great general: foresight in his preparations and a supreme ability to vary his tactics according to circumstances; great boldness and sudden inspiration during action; prompt decision and a far-reaching political outlook to confirm the victory and reap its fruits. It is rare indeed to discover all these qualities united in one man, and to find Condé’s equals we must look to men like Frederick the Great, Napoleon, and Wellington.

After the battle of Nördlingen, Condé fell ill of a fever, which compelled him at length to return to Chantilly. His mother, the Princesse Charlotte de Condé, his sister Geneviève, and his wife Claire-Clemence, with her little son the Duc d’Albret, whom he had not yet seen, welcomed him home. The historical “petite chambre” which he had always occupied was made ready for him, and “eau de Forges” to fortify his impaired strength. There he was invited to repose after the excessive fatigues of camp-life.

The attraction Condé had felt for Marthe de Vigeau when forced to marry the Cardinal’s niece had by this time passed away; and his plans for divorce in order to marry the woman he had so passionately adored had been definitely abandoned since the birth of his son Henri Jules. But he could not bring himself to show any affection to Claire-Clemence, who, during the long absence of her husband, had retired into the Convent of the Carmelites. It was a marriage into which he had been forced—a fact that he could not get over. Meanwhile Marthe de Vigeau had burnt his letters; had even gone so far as to burn his portrait; and, to make the sacrifice complete, had taken the veil and was henceforth known as “Sœur Marthe” in the same Carmelite Convent. But the Court was teeming with intriguing women who all wished to approach the young hero, around whose forehead laurels were now so thickly wreathed. Strong as Condé was in the field, he proved weak in the hands of an intriguing woman. In this he resembled his ancestor Louis I de Bourbon, whose name he bore. It was his beautiful cousin, Isabelle de Montmorency, who exercised the most pernicious influence over him. She had become the wife of Dandelot de Coligny, who for her sake had abjured the Protestant Faith. Ambitious to the extreme, she strove, after the death of her husband, to attract Louis XIV whilst still a youth, and after vainly trying to marry Charles II of England, she ended by marrying the Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin.

Plate XII.

THE VIRGIN AS PROTECTOR OF THE HUMAN RACE.
Musée Condé.

Photo Giraudon.

Charonton and Vilatte.

THE TOMB OF THE DUC AND DUCHESSE DE BRETAGNE AT NANTES.

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!”