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. 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] 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. 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. 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.” 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. 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. 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. 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.” 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.
Plate XI. THE GRAND CONDÉ. MusÉe CondÉ. David Teniets. 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 “Soeur 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. 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!” After her husband’s unforeseen imprisonment, Claire-Clemence was permitted to join the Dowager Princesse de CondÉ at Chantilly, since Mazarin looked upon her as harmless. It was rather CondÉ’s sister, Madame de Longueville, whom he feared, and whom he had intended to arrest with her husband. She, however, escaped in time, braving by night a terrible storm at sea, and joined Turenne, who helped her in her attempts to liberate the prisoners. Nor did Claire-Clemence remain inactive. She consulted with Lenet, a great friend of the CondÉ family, who had come to Chantilly, on what course to adopt to set her husband at liberty. Rumours reached her that she would be separated from her son, at which she was greatly alarmed. Taking Lenet aside, she declared to him emphatically that she would never be separated from her only child; but that she intended, on the contrary, to conduct him at the head of an army to deliver his father. This indomitable courage on the part of CondÉ’s spouse was to be the first step in a course of action which later on contributed much to his eventual deliverance. Meanwhile spring had come, and, in spite of the great misfortune which had befallen the Grand CondÉ, Chantilly became the resort of a crowd of visitors, who flocked round its brilliant chÂtelaine, Charlotte de Montmorency, Dowager Princesse de CondÉ. The young Duc d’Enghien took his morning rides on his pony, anglers with rod and line repaired to the ponds, gay parties of pleasure-seekers roamed over the lawns and along the avenues, and the woods resounded with the winding of the huntsman’s horn. In the evening the guests assembled in the splendid apartments of the castle to hear music, or listen to the many interesting tales related by the Dowager Princess, who loved above all else to dilate upon the attentions shown to her by Henri IV. Soon, however, the visits to the ChÂteau of Lenet and of Madame de ChÂtillon, both of whom had played a prominent part in the Fronde, were reported at Court; and one day the Princesses were suddenly surprised by the sight of Swiss guards stationed around their dwelling, and Monsieur de Vauldy simultaneously arrived at the ChÂteau with special orders from the King himself. He first asked for the Dowager Princess and endeavoured to persuade her to leave Chantilly for Berry; which, however, she flatly declined to do. In despair, the envoy, who had orders from the King not to show force, then asked to see the Princesse Claire-Clemence. On being conducted into a bedchamber, a lady lying in bed was pointed out to him as the Princesse de CondÉ; and he was told that she was suffering from so severe a cold that she could not possibly leave Chantilly at once. Furthermore a child, also suffering in the same way, was shown to him as the young Duc d’Enghien. These persons were, however, in reality an English governess and the gardener’s son, for the Princess herself, with her son in her arms, had made good her escape by a pathway that had by chance been left unguarded. Some of her ladies and gentlemen followed her at a distance until she safely reached a spot in the woods where she found a carriage, which had been kept always ready for emergencies. In this conveyance, after a fatiguing journey, she reached Montroux, an old country-seat of the CondÉs, where the hero of Rocroy had passed his early youth. Thence she wrote to the Queen, stating that she had undertaken this journey to show obedience to the Royal commands, since she had been desired to leave Chantilly. Anne of Austria took this communication good-humouredly enough, and admired the pluck of the young mother, whilst everybody was amused at Vauldy’s discomfiture. At Montroux the Princess soon found herself surrounded by friends and partisans; and she succeeded in arousing enthusiasm by her easy and natural method of expression in speaking, which, upon occasions of importance, could rise to flights of real eloquence. In order to be of service to the State and to the Prince, she decided to push on in the company of Lenet and Coligny to Bordeaux, whence the Duc de Bouillon came out to meet her. The Princess, mounted on a splendid charger named “Le BrÉzÉ,” which had come from her father’s stables, was received with Royal honours by Turenne, who defrayed all her expenses and those of her escort as far as Bordeaux. Claire-Clemence and her supporters now decided to attack Mazarin openly for having imprisoned the Princes, but the Cardinal, getting wind of it, ordered the gates of Bordeaux to be shut in her face. The people of the city, however, revolted against such an injustice and opened the gates by force, crying, “Vive le Roi, et point de Mazarin.” It may be remarked here that the citizens of Bordeaux had every reason to be grateful to CondÉ for his kindness to them when, upon a previous occasion, they had revolted against their hated Governor, the Duc d’EpÉron. The Princesse de CondÉ decided to approach the city by water, and as soon as her ship came in sight, it was saluted by a cannonade from eighty vessels, whilst more than twenty thousand people welcomed her at the landing-stage. The streets were adorned with flowers, and public enthusiasm was so great that she was compelled to show herself on the balcony of her palace until midnight to receive the ovations of the populace. In order to secure the support of the Bordeaulese, Claire-Clemence resolved to present her petition before their Parlement in person. With great spirit, therefore, she made her way to the Chamber of the Councillors, accompanied by her son. “I come to demand justice of the King against the violence of Mazarin,” she said imploringly, “and I place my person and that of my son in your hands.” At the same time the little Duke, dropping on one knee, cried out: “Gentlemen, I implore you to assume the place of a father to me; since the Cardinal has deprived me of my own.” The whole assembly was deeply touched, and after some deliberation, the members of the Parlement agreed to extend to her their protection to the suppliants. It would be superfluous to pursue here in full detail all the efforts made by Claire-Clemence at Bordeaux on behalf of her husband. The chief difficulty now was, however, that Mazarin, having treated CondÉ with such injustice and violence, was afraid to set him free; and he therefore even went so far as to entertain ideas of destroying him altogether. The Court, meanwhile, in spite of the events which were taking place at Bordeaux, had removed the Princes from the fortress of Vincennes to a prison at Havre; and at the same time ordered the Princess to leave Bordeaux and retire to Montroux. After distributing handsome gifts to all those who had befriended her, she departed with a numerous cortÈge, amid a shower of flowers; and on hearing that the Queen was at Bourg-sur-Mer, sought an interview with her. With her little son beside her, she fell upon her knees before Anne and begged for her husband’s freedom. Her Majesty’s answer was: “I am very glad, my cousin, that you at length recognise that you adopted a wrong course by which to get what you so intensely desire. But now that you seem to take another more fitting and more humble attitude I will see whether I can satisfy your request.” To the united efforts of Claire-Clemence and of CondÉ’s devoted friend Lenet, there was also now added the powerful help of Anne de Gonzague, Princess Palatine, whose influence extended from Paris to Warsaw and even to Stockholm. She persuaded no less a person than Queen Christina of Sweden to plead for the Grand CondÉ’s liberty. Moreover, her sister, Marie de Gonzague, Queen of Poland, who had never ceased to be the hero’s devoted friend, also came to his aid with considerable effect. Meanwhile France was rent by civil war, and Anne of Austria began to regret the loss of CondÉ’s strong arm, which had done so much for her infant son, Louis XIV. The disorder, in fact, became so great and the clamour for CondÉ’s liberation so imperative, that Mazarin was compelled to proceed to Havre with an order under the Queen-Regent’s sign-manual for his unconditional release. The Cardinal entered the cell wherein the Princes were confined in his travelling attire and himself announced to them that their captivity was at an end. Whereupon compliments were exchanged and healths drunk; Mazarin even privately affirming to CondÉ that it was not to him that he owed his long imprisonment. A carriage was in waiting for the liberated prisoners, and Mazarin, taking his leave of them, bowed so low as to create unbounded mirth amongst those present. Then he himself departed into exile; whence, however, it was not very long ere he returned. All Paris turned out to welcome CondÉ, and no less than 5,000 cavaliers, the flower of the French aristocracy, went out to meet the Princes at Saint-Denis. They were conducted by Gaston d’OrlÉans to the Palais-Royal, where they were received by the Queen-Regent and the young King, who welcomed them with his accustomed warmth, as if nothing had occurred. In the evening a supper was given in their honour by Monsieur the King’s uncle, and a ball by the Duchesse de Chevreuse. Next day a solemn session of the Parlement took place, and for several nights Paris was brilliantly illuminated. The young Princesse de CondÉ came from Montroux, accompanied by the Ducs de Bouillon and de Rochefoucauld, and the Prince, who appreciated to the full all that she had done for him, endeavoured to show his gratitude. He met her with a train of twenty carriages to accompany her entry into Paris; and nothing could have touched the Princess’s heart more profoundly than to hear the crowds along the road repeat: “Voici une femme fort chÈrie de son mari.” It testified to the sympathy held by the public for this long-neglected wife. From Paris the reunited pair proceeded to Chantilly, where festivities and hunting-parties followed fast one upon another. CondÉ, however, felt bound to claim a certain amount of recompense for the great wrong which had been done to him. He demanded for himself the Governments of Burgundy and Champagne, besides other rewards for his friends de Rochefoucauld and Nemours. At first the Queen-Regent promised everything, but presently, upon the remonstrance of the exiled Mazarin, went back on her word. This was sufficient to enrage CondÉ once more, and a report spread that amid the rural charms of Chantilly he had opened negotiations with Spain. Gondi, Archbishop of Paris, anxious to obtain a scarlet hat for himself, went secretly to the Queen, and knowing that Her Majesty was lamenting Mazarin’s absence, promised her that he and Gaston d’OrlÉans would bring the Cardinal back from exile if CondÉ were once more arrested. CondÉ, although his freedom was so recent, felt insecure and retired with his wife and son to Saint-Maur, where Madame de Longueville joined them; so that he was not present when Louis XIV was proclaimed King, but was holding council with his adherents at Chantilly. “Il faut pousser M. le Prince” was a stock saying of Mazarin and Gondi (now Cardinal de Retz), both of whom were endeavouring to goad CondÉ to his own destruction. Louis II de Bourbon, Prince de CondÉ, along with his many great qualities, had unfortunately inherited also all the faults of the CondÉs—faults which the Duchesse de Nemours (daughter-in-law of his sister, Madame de Longueville) describes as follows: “Ils avaient des airs si moqueurs, et disaient des choses si offensentes que personne ne les pouvaient souffrir ... quand on leurs dÉplaisait ils poussaient les gens jusqu’a la derniÈre extremitÉ, et ils n’etaient capable d’aucune reconnaissance pour les services qu’on leurs avait rendu.” These were the qualities which at this period of his life turned the scale against him. It was not against France or the King that CondÉ proposed to fight, but against the Italian Cardinal, the trusted confidant of Anne of Austria; and his grievance was that he had not only been deprived of his liberty, but that attempts had even been made upon his life. It was for that reason that CondÉ did not take part in any of the festive celebrations held at the King’s Proclamation, and he made his excuses in a letter presented to the King by his brother, the Prince de Conti. This was unquestionably a great blunder, and was done against his wife’s wishes, who had given such great proofs of devotion and courage. On September 13, 1651 CondÉ retired to Montroux, where his sister, Madame de Longueville, and the leaders of his party triumphed over his last scruples. It was then that he pronounced the famous words: “Vous me forcez À tirer l’epÉe,—eh bien! soit! mais souvenez vous que je serai le dernier À la remettre dans le fourreau.” CHAPTER V
CONDÉ’S ALLIANCE WITH SPAIN CONDÉ’S alliance with Spain against Mazarin was the immediate cause of another civil war in France. The Prince left his wife and son in Bordeaux, where, as we have said, they had already acquired much personal popularity. The history of this town and of its Parlement is of considerable interest. In 1653 the people of Bordeaux sent envoys to England to inquire into the details of the Revolution under Cromwell; whereby we may note what strong Liberal tendencies had already manifested themselves in this place, even at the beginning of the reign of Louis XIII. More than once the townspeople had shown a spirit of rebellion against the Government, and they had espoused, as we have seen, the cause of the Princes against Mazarin during the second Fronde. When the Princesse de CondÉ returned thither with her husband, she found, to her surprise, that a Republican spirit had developed amongst her former friends, and that they wished to see in CondÉ an ally rather than a chief. Nor did CondÉ, although a Prince of the Blood, and well known for his pride of birth, object to signing a Declaration before the Parlement of Bordeaux, whereby he promised not to lay down his arms until he had obtained for his country the following concession, namely: “That the supreme authority should in future be given to a representative of the people, chosen by free men, who were of age and entitled to the vote.” Mazarin, at the head of a small army, had joined the King at Poitiers, whilst the city of Paris, left under the command of Gaston d’OrlÉans and the Paris Parlement, declared CondÉ guilty of high treason. On hearing this the Prince made a desperate effort to reach Paris, and with the help of the Grande Mademoiselle (Gaston’s notorious daughter), who boldly opened the gates to him, he entered the town with his troops at the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, making himself for a moment master of the situation. Unfortunately, however, the bloodshed which took place on this occasion rendered his cause most unpopular, and, finding himself abandoned by the populace, he was soon obliged to retreat before Turenne. Whereupon the young King, accompanied by Mazarin, re-entered the capital and succeeded in controlling it. Bordeaux meanwhile continued to assert itself as a Republic. There were two parties fighting against one another—the rich bourgeoisie struggling against the lower classes. Claire-Clemence, who was still resident amongst them, strove to make peace between these two parties, but in the middle of it all her health broke down and she was obliged to retire, leaving to CondÉ’s brother Conti and to his sister, Madame de Longueville, the task of managing public affairs. On hearing, however, that the Chapeau-Rouge party,—that is to say, the rich bourgeoisie,—had actually opened fire upon their rivals, she again made her appearance, accompanied by Lenet and OrmÉe, the head of the popular party and succeeded in bringing about a peaceful settlement. Shortly after this, on September 20, 1652, the Princesse de CondÉ gave birth to another son, to whom was given the name of Louis Bordeaux. The whole city was decorated to celebrate this auspicious event; and there still exists in the archives at Chantilly a letter of CondÉ’s, wherein he writes as follows: “J’ai une extrÊme joie de l’accouchement de ma femme; elle serait parfaite si elle se portait bien, et si j’Étais assurÉ son enfant dÛt vivre.” Unfortunately, however, Claire-Clemence found herself unable to recover her former strength, and it was terrible news for her that her husband, alone and bereft of his adherents, had left Paris and had even accepted the post of General-in-Chief in the Spanish army. She had stood beside him in his fight against Mazarin and a treacherous and faithless Court; but Richelieu’s niece could not get over the fact that the “Hero of Rocroy” had actually gone over to the enemy. To fill her cup of tribulation CondÉ found himself in terrible financial difficulties since he had to feed his own troops whilst receiving insufficient support from his allies, the Spaniards, who were themselves unable to offer him material aid. In despair he wrote to Lenet: “Have my silver and plate melted down, and tell my wife to pawn her jewellery. She will, I am sure, not object, nor will my sister refuse to do the same. Borrow wherever you can, and do not hesitate to pay high interest. I am so much in want of money that I do not know what to do.... Sell everything, even to my landed property.” This was certainly bitter news for the wife of the Grand CondÉ, and, at the same time, she endured the heavy sorrow of losing her infant son, Louis Bordeaux. In order to provide her husband with necessary material help she ordered her own mode of living with strictest economy and reduced her household. But Madame de Longueville and Conti, realising that their brother was engaged in a hopeless cause, presently left Bordeaux; and the latter, becoming reconciled with Mazarin, not long after married one of his nieces. A general amnesty was now offered to the people of Bordeaux if they would surrender to the King. To this they agreed; and a passport was granted to enable the Princesse de CondÉ to retire with her son wherever she might choose. Claire-Clemence, for a moment, was undecided whether to join her husband or to go to Flanders. She chose the latter course. She had to part, however, with her elder—now her only—son, the Duc d’Enghien, whose education was committed into the hands of the Jesuits at Antwerp. Broken in health and spirits, she left for Valenciennes, accompanied only by her secretary, the faithful Lenet, and a small suite. Nor was the news which she received from her husband of a nature to restore her health. The success which had hitherto always accompanied him when fighting for his country seemed to have entirely abandoned him since he raised his sword against France. Accused of high treason, abandoned with insufficient resources to meet his liabilities, and frequently prone upon a bed of sickness, we cannot but admire the man who succeeded in facing such terrible trials. More than once he had to rectify grave errors committed by the Spanish generals, even by Don Juan of Austria himself, who was regarded in Spain as a conquering hero. Mazarin, having succeeded in putting down the civil war, could now turn his attention to the struggle with Spain; and at length the two armies faced one another on the Dunes, near Dunkirk. The Spaniards were led by CondÉ, the French by Turenne. The hero of Rocroy, so famous for his own strategic powers, as he surveyed the two armies, was struck by the excellent dispositions of Turenne. Addressing himself to a young Englishman who was in his camp, he said, “Have you ever seen how a battle is lost?” “No,” answered the youth. “Well, in less than half an hour you will see such an event,” was CondÉ’s grave response. His prediction was verified; and Dunkirk was captured by the French, although CondÉ, with great skill, succeeded in limiting the extent of his rival’s victory. The result of this battle was the famous “Peace of the Pyrenees,” signed at MÜnster on November 7, 1659 by Mazarin and Louis de Haros, minister of Philip IV. Amongst the more particular clauses of this Peace was a marriage contract, arranged between Louis XIV and the Infanta Maria Theresa, which had far-reaching consequences. Another stipulation made by Spain was that CondÉ should be allowed to return to France, and be reinstated in all his rights as a Prince of the Blood. His implacable enemy Mazarin opposed this at first, but through the prayers of his wife and his sister GeneviÈve de Bourbon the Grand CondÉ was finally allowed to return home. After having exercised so pernicious an influence over her brother during the second Fronde, and after having brought upon him so many disasters, GeneviÈve, on the death of her husband, the Duc de Longueville, turned her attention to religion, and retired to the convent at Moulins, where the widowed Marie Felice, last Duchesse de Montmorency, still mourned her dead spouse. CondÉ’s letters, whereby he promised fidelity to the King and engaged to live on good terms with the Cardinal, preceded him. Madame de Longueville had, moreover, made great preparations for her brother’s return to Court; whilst Conti, who, as already mentioned, had meantime married one of Mazarin’s nieces, arranged the first meeting between the Prince and the powerful Minister. He was welcomed by the Queen, and presented his respects to the King; and on the following day the Gazette de France announced that he had dined with His Eminence Cardinal Mazarin. That CondÉ was truly sorry for having raised his sword against his own country, is proved by the following remark: “When Mazarin had me imprisoned, I was innocent; but I came out of prison the most culpable of men.” From Paris the Prince went straight to his residence at Saint-Maur to meet Turenne, who appeared at first embarrassed on seeing him. CondÉ, however, at once addressed his rival in a most friendly manner, and asked his advice regarding the repatriation of his soldiers, many of whom were Swiss and Germans who declined to enter the French army. When presently Louis XIV made his entry into Paris the Prince de CondÉ and the Duc d’Enghien appeared amongst the Royal retinue, whilst the Princesse de CondÉ sat in the State coach with the Queen. Yet, although established once more as a Prince of the Blood, with all the prerogatives and appurtenances of his rank—even his Government of Burgundy—many years had still to pass before CondÉ could regain the entire confidence of the King. Nor did Mazarin ever cease to distrust him. And when, before his death, the Minister presented him with a valuable diamond ring, assuring him of his sincere friendship, it was merely a proof of his own power of dissimulation; for, with his last breath, he warned the King to protect his crown from the insatiable ambition of the Grand CondÉ. If CondÉ had hoped to play a prominent part in the public affairs of France after the death of Mazarin, he was mistaken; for the young King, himself full of ambition, announced at the outset that he meant henceforth to rule alone. In accordance with his famous saying “L’Etat c’est moi” Louis now began to reign himself. For CondÉ retirement from public life had come too early. His sword which had rendered such great services to France was no longer needed; and he therefore retired to his ChÂteau at Chantilly. Here he almost immediately began to make extensive restorations, the completion of which occupied over twenty years, and greatly changed the aspect of the old place, so long abandoned and unoccupied. The financial difficulties in which he found himself on his return were happily overcome by Gourville, who acted energetically as his agent. The celebrated Le NÔtre was called in to lay out the gardens; the vast grounds were converted into parks, interspersed by the charming pieces of water which still exist. With great ingenuity a channel was dug to receive the waters of the streamlet Nonette, an affluent of the Oise, and a hydraulic machine invented by CondÉ himself—who was as skilled an engineer as he was a soldier—was constructed by Le Manse, under whom all these wonderful waterworks were kept in order. The courtyard which forms the present entrance to the ChÂteau dates from that time. Letters have come down to us in which CondÉ expresses to Le NÔtre the highest satisfaction with his work. The latter was quite overcome by the Prince’s appreciation, and replied to him: “Jamais l’Honneur que je receu d’embraser nostre Saint Pere, le pape, et de baiser sa mule ne m’a fait tant de bien ny donne tant de joie que celle que je ressenty par la bontÉ que vous avez eu de me donner le benefice que votre Altesse a refusÉ a tant de testes couronnees.... Je continueray a eslever mes pensÉes pour l’embellissement de vos parterres, fontaines, cascades de vostre grand jardin de Chantilly.” In 1684 Mansart was entrusted with the entire transformation of the interior of the Petit ChÂteau; the first floor being arranged for the use of the Grand CondÉ, whilst the ground floor was reserved for his son, the Duc d’Enghien. The exterior of this exquisite building was fortunately left intact, and has remained unchanged since the time of Anne de Montmorency. Nor has the interior changed since Mansart’s alterations. When the visitor passes through these apartments to-day, he can feel that they are in the same state as when the Grand CondÉ dwelt there. The Grand Cabinet with its exquisite Beauvais tapestry, its Boulle table, and its Louis XVI consoles and lustres, and the Petit Cabinet where the victor of Rocroy came to rest from his labours, still exist, to recall their former owner. In an adjacent apartment we may admire a fine piece of furniture, companion to the famous Louis XV bureau in the Louvre, upon which is placed the Grand CondÉ’s own despatch-box. Then there is the Long Gallery, where the painter Sauveur Lecomte has illustrated, under the hero’s own directions, all his victories from the battles of Rocroy, NÖrdlingen, and Fribourg to the conquest of the Franche ComtÉ, and the campaign and passage of the Rhine. Mansart, once installed at Chantilly, did not leave it for many years. He unfortunately attempted to tamper with the old feudal castle of the Orgemonts and the mediÆval architecture which combined so well with Montmorency’s Petit ChÂteau, creating an inordinately lofty building, with a straight line of innumerable windows and attics all precisely similar in form. It was this structure which was razed to the ground at the time of the Revolution, and which was reconstructed in a far more suitable style by the late Duc d’Aumale. CHAPTER VI
FESTIVITIES AT CHANTILLY SINCE there was no prospect for CondÉ to take any prominent lead in the affairs of his own country his name was proposed as a possible successor to the throne of Poland. He declined, however, to accept a crown which had been the cause of so much misery to King Wladislav IV and to his brother Jean Casimir. There being no heir-apparent to that throne the eyes of Marie de Gonzague, Queen of Poland, turned upon the Duc d’Enghien, CondÉ’s only surviving son, and it was in connection with this idea that a marriage was arranged between Henri Jules de Bourbon and Anne of Bavaria, eldest daughter of the Princess Palatine, sister to the Polish Queen. Claire-Clemence was not over-pleased at the idea of this marriage, since she did not share her husband’s ambitions. The uneasy throne of Poland for her only son was a proposal which she could not face with equanimity. The union that she would have preferred was one with Mademoiselle d’AlenÇon, youngest daughter of Gaston d’OrlÉans, a Princess whom Henri Jules often saw and greatly admired, for the OrlÉans family at that time lived in the sumptuous Palais d’OrlÉans, not far from the Palais CondÉ, which was built on the site now occupied by the OdÉon ThÉÂtre. But the Princess could not prevail upon her masterful husband, who had not only taken his son’s education, but also his entire future, into his own hands. The brave lady, who had played so important a part during the Fronde, and had shown so much courage and determination under her many difficulties and trials, had at this time completely broken down in health. She only appeared at Court festivities at long intervals, and although she was present at her son’s marriage she did not join the young couple at Chantilly. The Grand CondÉ, surrounding himself with friends, lived there from choice; and there Anne de Gonzague paid him frequent visits, whilst Claire-Clemence was left neglected in Paris. Society soon followed suit; and such neglect and isolation told upon a constitution naturally delicate. This Princess, once so full of admiration for her hero, now began to cherish resentment against him; and she who for long years had, in spite of his neglect, never uttered one word of complaint, at last broke out into bitter recrimination. We gather from CondÉ’s letters that she suffered from violent fits of passion, and that a secret fear lest he should make away with her became more and more a fixed idea. It is said, however, that when she appeared at the baptism of the Dauphin her attitude was full of dignity and commanded involuntary respect. Two years after this an unfortunate incident happened, never entirely explained, which reduced Claire-Clemence to imprisonment for the rest of her life. CondÉ had compelled her to dismiss a page, named Duval, who had been in her service. She had, however, promised him a pension which it seems was left unpaid. One day, whilst the rest of the servants were at their meals, he penetrated into the Princess’s apartments to beg for his pension. His voice was heard by the page on duty in the next room, who at once entered the chamber in order to protect Her Highness from his importunities. A violent quarrel arose between the two men, and the Princess, in her endeavours to separate them, was severely wounded. When the rest of the servants, on hearing the noise, rushed into the apartment, Her Highness was found unconscious on the floor. This was the version put about in Paris; but CondÉ, on being informed of it, was beside himself with rage, and caused Duval to be arrested and condemned to the gallows. 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. It was in this spirit that Louis, accompanied by Turenne, marched into Flanders, and made Lille a French town; whilst CondÉ once more surprised the world by his conquest of the whole of Franche-ComtÉ in less than a month. England, Holland, and Sweden, terrified at the young King’s ambition and the success of the French arms, promptly entered into a Triple Alliance, which arrested the conquering hero in full career and brought about the Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, whereby he was forced to be content with Flanders alone. But such terms were scarcely calculated to satisfy the ambitions of either the King, his generals, or the French nation. Hostilities were therefore soon resumed. With an army of thirteen thousand men commanded by CondÉ and Turenne Louis advanced on Holland. He crossed the Rhine, devastating and conquering everything before him. No less than ninety-five towns and villages capitulated in ten days. Holland, conscious of her inability to resist, begged for peace, but the French, encouraged by their successes, refused to lend an ear to her entreaties. It was then that William of Orange conceived the daring plan of submerging the whole of Holland by piercing the dykes. In this way the French were brought up short in their destructive course by an inundation which lasted over two years. Louis, obliged by these circumstances to postpone for a time the conquest of Holland, retired to Saint-Germain and left to Turenne the arduous task of remaining with the army. CondÉ, meanwhile, led the advance-guard with a rapidity which in less than nine days made him master of six strong fortresses on the Rhine; and it apparently only remained for him to cross the Yssel to where the young Prince of Orange was stationed. Once more he displayed remarkable military strategy in crossing this river at a point where he was unexpected: and two Dutch regiments ordered to oppose him were cut to pieces by overwhelming numbers, so that the French troops there and then crossed the Rhine without hindrance. Montbas, the Dutch General, accused of treason, was supplanted at the last moment by de Wirty, in order to shield William of Orange himself, who recognized his mistake too late. This easy victory, however, was marred by an event which proved most unfortunate in its consequences. When the French squadrons had reached the opposite bank of the river CondÉ, with his son and his nephew, the Duc de Longueville, also crossed immediately in a boat, followed by their men and horses. The Princes, on landing, promptly threw themselves into their saddles, and riding ahead fell in with a small body of Dutch soldiers, who begged for mercy. The young Duc de Longueville, without waiting for the decision of his chief, cried out: “Pas de quartier,” and fired off his pistol. The Dutch promptly replied with a volley, one shot of which struck de Longueville and mortally wounded him, whilst another seriously injured CondÉ himself. The Prince and his dead nephew were immediately transported to a fisherman’s hut. By a strange coincidence, the mourners were met by the Ambassador of Poland, who had come to offer the crown of the Jagellons—refused by CondÉ for his own son—to the unfortunate young Duke. CondÉ’s wound changed the course of the whole campaign, since it incapacitated him at the supreme moment when he might have reaped the full advantages of his victory. The wound healed but slowly, and his son, Henri Jules, could not replace him at the head of his troops. Time lost to the French was time gained by William of Orange, who, as has been said, conceived the heroic plan of inundating Holland, whereby the French military operations became impossible. The auspicious moment for invading Holland being thus lost, CondÉ travelled slowly back to Chantilly, where he found a much-needed rest, and by degrees recovered his health. On his way back he had an interview at Port Royal with his sister, the Duchesse de Longueville, who, on hearing of her bereavement, gave way to long but silent grief; and, retiring from the world, passed her days in prayer and fasting for the repose of the soul of her dead son. Subsequently she became a devout Jansenist. Louis’ ambitious plans to conquer Europe, frustrated for the moment, had now roused Spain, Denmark, and some of the German Princes to take up arms to prevent possible renewed attacks upon their territories; and two great soldiers came forward to keep guard upon the Rhine: William of Brandenburg (a hero himself and ancestor of heroes), and Montecucoli (so named after his feudal castle), who took the command of the Imperial troops. CondÉ, hardly yet recovered, was summoned by his sovereign, and was requested once more to operate in the Netherlands. William of Orange began by attacking the French army at Senef, and in spite of the “fougue” of CondÉ the battle remained undecided. Turenne, meanwhile, was manoeuvring on the Rhine against Montecucoli, who was marching on Alsace; he succeeded in repulsing the Imperial troops near the Neckar, taking Heidelberg and Mannheim, and forcing his way into the Palatinate. Suddenly, however, he had to change his tactics owing to the unexpected appearance of the Margrave of Brandenburg; and the French commander’s plans terminated in a campaign in Alsace, where he was victorious at Mulhouse and Schletstadt. In that same year he was also confronted by Montecucoli, and unfortunately met his death at Salzbach before any decisive battle had been fought. His loss was a severe blow to his soldiers. CondÉ was immediately sent for; and, inspired by the memory of the dead general, followed his tactics, and succeeded without a single battle in driving the Imperial troops back across the Rhine. This was precisely what the King and his minister, Louvois, desired; for Montecucoli was thus shut out of Alsace, and obliged to take up his winter-quarters on the far side of the Rhine. By these brilliant operations CondÉ preserved Turenne’s army, and terminated this great campaign, in which were engaged three of the most celebrated generals of the period: Montecucoli, the profound strategist, the sagacious Turenne, and the great CondÉ, who in the cause of France was always victorious. These were his last exploits, and he returned to Chantilly, there to pass a life of peaceful quiet until his death in 1687. Madame de SÉvignÉ, who was repeatedly invited to the ChÂteau, says in her Letters that CondÉ was quite admirable in his retreat, from which he only emerged occasionally to pay a visit to the King at Fontainebleau, Paris, or Versailles, where a splendid suite of apartments was always reserved for him. Chantilly at that time became a small Court in itself. Not only was it a resort for kings, princes, ambassadors, generals, and statesmen, who never omitted to pay their respects to the Grand CondÉ, but it was also a rallying-place for the most distinguished literary and scientific men of the day. Here Bossuet, FÉnelon, and the philosopher Malebranche, the poets Corneille, Racine, and MoliÈre discussed their works and their theories in that avenue in the park which to this day bears the name of “the Philosophers.” The newest books and publications passed their first public ordeal at Chantilly; and at the theatrical representations which frequently took place there, the greatest actors of the day produced famous plays, or made their dÉbut. The Prince kept a special company of comedians in his own pay at Rouen for practice, so anxious was he that they should perform at Chantilly to the utmost perfection; and he himself distributed to them their various parts. His interest in scientific discoveries was also very great, and he studied all the latest books upon these subjects. The humorous letters addressed to him upon such matters by that fantastic personage Bourdelot still exist. The famous waterworks at Chantilly, imitated later at Versailles, were to a great extent, as we have already remarked, planned and carried out according to his own designs. Nor was he lacking in artistic interest, for he made important additions to the collection of manuscripts founded by his ancestors, the Montmorencys; and during his stay in Holland he collected many Dutch pictures and some fine furniture, which may still be seen in his own rooms at the Petit ChÂteau. For him Charles Le Brun and Mignard worked assiduously, and some of the paintings by Paul Veronese, Guido, Guercino, the Carraccis, Van Dyck, and Antonio Moro which now adorn the walls of the MusÉe CondÉ were acquired by him. His passion for the chase was notorious; and hunting and hawking in the woods of Chantilly were amongst his greatest pleasures. He revived the art of hawking, introduced into Europe from Arabia by the Crusaders, and he is said to have taken particular interest in his own hawks, conferring upon each of them individual names. Plate XV.
Plate XV. Photo. Giraudon. MoliÈre. By Miguard. MusÉe CondÉ. Photo. Giraudon. MoliÈre. By Miguard.
MusÉe CondÉ. In concluding these notices on the life and character of the Grand CondÉ, we must not forget to mark a trait in his character which has perhaps not been hitherto so generally acknowledged: namely, a feeling that he owed it to family tradition to protect the Huguenots. When therefore Louis XIV revoked the Edict of Nantes, and thereby caused an exodus of some of the best amongst his subjects, CondÉ, wherever it was possible, protected the persecuted Protestants; and Chantilly itself became a shelter for Huguenot fugitives. Disappointed in his own son, Henri Jules de Bourbon—a man devoid of all ability, whose chief aim was to follow the Dauphin’s hounds—CondÉ in his old age attempted to take in hand the education of his grandson, the young Duc de Bourbon, and of his favourite nephew, FranÇois, Prince de Conti, left orphaned by the early death of his father. By these means he hoped to restore the glory of the race: for FranÇois de Conti had displayed military talent and great valour during the famous day of Steinkerque, where two horses were killed under him, and where he contributed greatly to the victory achieved by French arms. For the benefit of these two young men, CondÉ invited to Chantilly La BruyÈre, who had been introduced to him by Bossuet, and engaged him to undertake their education. But the Duke, like his father, was too much attracted by the Court of Louis XIV. At a very early age his father arranged an alliance for him with Mademoiselle de Nantes, a daughter of the King by Madame de Montespan, and contemporary chronicles are filled with references to this child-marriage, which was celebrated with the greatest pomp; the bride being but thirteen and the bride-groom seventeen years of age. After the nuptials, the two children took their places in a state bed, supported on either side by their respective mothers: but as soon as festivities were over they were separated and only permitted to see each other in the presence of their relations. The new Duchesse de Bourbon was extremely handsome; but her husband was rather small and of an unamiable disposition. His shortcomings were, however, compensated for by the brilliant valour which he displayed at a subsequent period. Bossuet himself was prevailed upon to give instruction to the young Duke. This famous prelate was always greatly admired by the Grand CondÉ. Upon one occasion we are told that he entered the Church of the Minimes, when the great philosopher happened to be preaching. Bossuet, who was arguing upon the vanity of the glories of this world to which CondÉ had sacrificed so much, suddenly perceived the hero among the audience. Whereupon, with his customary skill, on the spur of the moment he introduced an appropriate compliment by pointing out how the Prince de CondÉ, after having been so long the ornament of his century, was now also endeavouring to attain Eternal Life—an immortality more lasting than that which worldly fame affords. In early life CondÉ had been a member of a society of free-thinkers, to which the Princesses Marie and Anne de Gonzague had also belonged. He had studied Spinoza, and had approved of his pantheistic doctrines; then, gradually leaving Spinoza, he took up Descartes. Later the example of his sister, Madame de Longueville—who, from leading a worldly life, had become a pious Jansenist—made a deep impression upon him: as did also the death of Anne de Gonzague, who, after a life of wildest excitement, had before her end become a sincere and devout penitent. In his old age he often sought the company of a friend of his early youth and college-days at Bourges, who had distinguished himself as a brilliant orator. Shortly before his death, in company with this friend, CondÉ went to receive the Holy Communion at his parish church of Saint-Sulpice; and on leaving was met by the plaudits of the people of Paris. His own adherence to the Catholic Faith did not, however, change his friendly attitude towards the Huguenots, nor did it alter in any way his mode of living at Chantilly. Madame de Langeron at that time did the honours of his house, and the freedom of thought which reigned there so much appreciated by men like La BruyÈre and Bossuet, was never interfered with. Saint-Évremond sang CondÉ’s praise in the following characteristic verses: À ta vertu, CondÉ, tu t’es enfin soumis
Tu n’Étais pas encore au comble de ta gloire,
Senef, Lens, Fribourg et Nordlingen et Rocroi
N’Étaient que des degrÉs pour monter jusqu’À toi.
Le vainqueur s’est vaincu, c’est la grande victoire.
. . . . . . . . . .
Tranquil et glorieux,
Il vit À Chantilly comme on vit aux cieux.
Bossuet has described the last moments of the hero: “Such as he was in his warrior days, resolute, quiet, always occupied, without anxiety for what had to be done, such was he in his last hour. Nor did death seem to him any more repulsive or terrible now than in the midst of battle and victory.” Whilst his family and friends shed copious tears as his end approached, he continued to give all necessary orders; and he remembered everyone, from the highest to the lowest of his friends and attendants, showering gifts upon them all with a munificence fully in accordance with his high rank and generous heart. CHAPTER VIII
THE LAST CONDÉS WHEN Henri Jules de Bourbon succeeded to the CondÉ inheritance, he continued with filial piety to carry out all the improvements and additions to Chantilly which his father had planned. FranÇois Mansart, the most fashionable architect of the period, had by that time nearly completed those unfortunate alterations which transformed the ancient feudal fortress into a species of Versailles. This Prince also built the parish church on a site presented by the Grand CondÉ to the inhabitants of the hamlet which had begun to form itself around the castle. He completed the menagerie and by his orders Mansart built an orangery ending in a pavilion called by him Le Pavillon d’OronthÉe. Statues of the Grand CondÉ, of Bossuet, of MoliÈre, of Le NÔtre, and of La BruyÈre, executed by the most famous sculptors of the day, were placed along the Terrasse du ConnÉtable; whilst marble copies of celebrated antiques were set up in the gardens and park. He spoke of Chantilly as “ses delices” and was never weary of planning improvements there. He also directed that the famous deeds of his father should be recorded on canvas by Sauveur Lecomte in accordance with directions left by that hero himself. In 1688 the Prince de CondÉ entertained at Chantilly the Grand Dauphin, only son of Louis XIV, with whom he was on terms of great intimacy; and the apartments in the Petit ChÂteau occupied by that Prince were those once inhabited by the Grand CondÉ himself. A description of the entertainments given upon this occasion may be read in the Mercure de France of that year, as follows: “A great battue had been arranged, and the Dauphin appears to have been delighted by the enjoyment of such splendid sport. Luncheon was served on a big stone table in the middle of the forest.[12] On the centre of the table was placed a basket containing the most exquisite fruit, and during the repast mythological deities made their appearance whilst dances were performed to the sound of appropriate music. Every day—and the Dauphin remained for seven—some new diversion was contrived.” As Henri Jules de CondÉ grew older he seldom left Chantilly. His temper became more and more violent and difficult; and during his last years he rarely appeared at Court. He died in 1709, leaving a legacy to the Hospital at Chantilly, which had been founded by his grandmother, Charlotte de Montmorency. The Duc de Bourbon, generally known as Louis III, Prince de CondÉ, died soon after his father. Louise FranÇoise, his wife, had presented him with six daughters and three sons; of whom the eldest, Louis Henri, succeeded to the title of Prince de CondÉ at the early age of eighteen.[13] He, like his predecessors, also spent great sums on the embellishment of Chantilly. By him were built the great stables—a monument unique of its kind—in which vast buildings more than two hundred horses and packs of hounds for fox, deer, and boar hunts, were housed. In the adjoining courtyards were lodged their numerous attendants—piqueurs, chasseurs, and stable-boys—and the carriages, coaches, etc., needed for such an establishment. The central cupola of this stupendous edifice was originally adorned with a statue of La RenommÉe, but this was destroyed by a cannon-ball during the Revolution of 1792. The famous Duchesse de Berry, daughter of the Regent and wife of the younger grandson of Louis XIV, passed a whole week at Chantilly as the guest of this Prince; and great magnificence was displayed for her entertainment. Saint-Simon in his MÉmoires relates an incident which happened during these festivities. On the farther side of the grand canal the Duke kept a very beautiful menagerie, full of rare animals and fine birds; and whilst the company were strolling about and playing games in the grounds a huge tiger escaped and prowled about the gardens to the terror of the gay revellers. After some time, however, and fortunately before any accident had occurred, the beast was captured and induced to return to his cage. In consequence of the numerous royal visits paid to him, Louis Henri entirely remodelled the interior of the Grand ChÂteau. The King’s Apartment was over the Museum; it extended from the Chapel to the so-called North Tower, and was composed of guard-rooms, long galleries, and vast chambers. That of the Queen was over the present Entrance-Hall, and ran as far as the Treasury towers. From it one could penetrate into the Chapel, which at that time was situated where is now the splendid staircase leading to the Museum. During the time of this Prince the youthful Louis XV came to Chantilly from Reims. He arrived in the evening and the whole place was beautifully illuminated—so much so that “every detail of the building could be seen as if in broad daylight.” The festivities on this occasion were many and various. The chase during the day and in the evening performances by an Italian comedy company engaged for the occasion, and by a famous ballet which lasted four-and-twenty hours. In 1723, after the death of the Regent, the Duc de Bourbon became Prime Minister of France. His wife, Anne Marie de Bourbon, had died and his mistress, the famous Marquise de Prie, reigned supreme—an even more fascinating, and certainly a more intelligent woman than the Montespans, Pompadours, and Du Barrys, who so completely succeeded in captivating the Bourbon Kings. She possessed a beautiful voice, with which she interpreted Italian music, learnt during her stay in Turin where her husband for many years had been ambassador. She also, like Madame de Pompadour, patronised art and had portraits of herself painted by Rosalba and Vanloo. Her house was furnished with exquisite taste, and she understood to perfection the arts of the toilet. At first she devoted herself to a life of pleasure, but she soon saw the wisdom of becoming her lover’s adviser-in-chief. In order to shield him against the intrigues of the Orleans family—as long as the King remained unmarried and without a nearer heir—she persuaded the Prime Minister that the Spanish Infanta, daughter of Philip V, who had been educated at the French Court and was intended to be the future Queen-Consort of France—though she was still a child of not much more than ten years old—should be sent back to her father. When this had been accomplished a marriage was speedily arranged with Maria Leczinska of Poland, although she was several years older than the young King. This act led to an immediate rupture with Spain and brought no political advantage to France. But in order to understand to the full the game played here by Madame de Prie, we should note that Maria Leczinska had been at first intended for Monsieur le Duc; wherefore by making her Queen of France she not only hoped to keep her lover to herself, but also to get ascendancy over the King through a queen whom she had helped to raise to so exalted a position. Somewhat unexpectedly, however, she found an implacable enemy in Cardinal Fleury, who was to Louis XV what Richelieu and Mazarin had been to his predecessors. He had been the young King’s preceptor and exercised a great influence over him. When it occurred to Fleury that he might become Prime Minister in place of the Duc de Bourbon the latter, notwithstanding the strenuous efforts of Madame de Prie, was compelled to yield and to resign on the charge that he had confided affairs of State to unqualified persons. He retired to Chantilly with his mistress, where, the lady received a most discourteous welcome from Madame la Duchesse DouariÈre; and to the grief and dismay of the Duke a lettre de cachet from the King presently commanded her to retire to a property in Normandy which belonged to her long-neglected husband. The Duc de Bourbon never ceased to regret her, because, as he asserted, he felt that she was so devoted to his interests as to have subordinated every other sentiment. She only survived her humiliation a few years; but it was some time after her death before the childless Duke thought of remarrying. His choice fell upon a young princess of Hesse Rhinfeld, whose eldest sister had married the King of Sardinia. The new Duchess, who was barely fifteen, was as beautiful and graceful as she was good. This marriage put an end to the disgrace into which the Duke had fallen at Court; and from that time Louis XV, who very much admired the young chÂtelaine of Chantilly, never went to CompiÈgne without paying her a visit on the way. In memory of these Royal visits he sent her a beautiful spray of diamonds, which the Duc de Luignes in his MÉmoires values at seventy-two thousand francs. The same writer adds that in the month of August 1738 the King came to Chantilly for a stag-hunt; and that he arrived at the ChÂteau in a gondola, accompanied by four Court ladies. The Duke and Duchess received this gay party and supper was immediately served, but next morning the heat was so excessive that the stag-hunt had to be abandoned. At nine o’clock, however, His Majesty promenaded upon the terrace, while airs from well-known operas were sung to amuse him. The Queen, Maria Leczinska, also enjoyed strolling about the gardens and driving through the park, where all sorts of games were specially devised for her. In 1740 the Duc de Bourbon fell ill and died rather suddenly. His young wife survived him barely a year; and their only son, Louis Joseph, then but five years of age, was left to the charge of his grandmother. She presented him soon after to Louis XV as Prince de CondÉ, and it was then remarked that he was very fair and tall for his age. His uncle, the Comte de Charolais, meantime administered the property at Chantilly with great judgment and skill on behalf of his nephew and ward. The young Prince was taken to Chantilly by his uncle for the first time at the age of fourteen, and all sorts of amusements suitable for his age were prepared for his pleasure. He at once conceived a great affection for the place, which continued for the rest of his life. When he attained the age of seventeen his uncle Charolais considered it time for him to marry, and proposed to him several suitable matches. At one of the entertainments given to further this end the young Prince’s choice fell on Charlotte de Rohan Soubise, a young lady renowned for her grace and beauty; and their marriage was celebrated at Versailles with great pomp. The young couple passed their honeymoon at Chantilly and, according to the chronicles of the old ChÂteau, they immediately commenced to display the traditional CondÉ taste for profuse hospitality. Balls, theatricals, garden-fÊtes, etc., followed each other in quick succession for six weeks. In 1756 their son and heir was born. At first he was known as the Duc d’Enghien but this was afterwards changed to Duc de Bourbon. The second child was a daughter, Louise de CondÉ, subsequently famed for her great intelligence and beauty. The Princess Charlotte de Soubise was a general favourite at Court; but in spite of her many social engagements she never neglected her maternal duties and always showed herself a most devoted wife and mother. The Prince, notwithstanding his domestic felicity, considered it his duty to add a “sprig of laurel” to the trophies of his glorious ancestor, the Grand CondÉ. He therefore joined the army and greatly distinguished himself during the Seven Years’ War. In 1762 he gained the victories of Grinningen and Johannesberg. The sudden death of his wife the Princesse de CondÉ from an attack of diphtheria put an end to his conjugal happiness; but to Chantilly he always returned after his campaigns, so as to be in the old home and with his children. A highly cultured gentleman, he took intense interest in literature and scientific research, enriching with numerous volumes the library of the ChÂteau and adding thereto mineralogical and physiological collections of great value. His only son, Louis Henri Joseph de Bourbon, when just fifteen was affianced to Louise Marie ThÉrÈse Bathilde d’OrlÉans, five years his senior and an intimate friend of his sister Louise. Even in those days of early marriages this union was considered abnormal, and it was at first arranged that the young couple should wait for a time. But the youthful pair threatened to elope unless they were allowed to marry that same year, so with “un Éclat de rire” the King gave his consent. When Marie Antoinette as Dauphine visited Chantilly the grace and charm of the young Duchess, who presided over the brilliant fÊtes given upon that occasion, were much admired. Louis Joseph, like the Grand CondÉ, was passionately devoted to the art of the stage, and his daughter-in-law, like so many great ladies of her time, was distinguished for her literary talents. She herself composed the comedies in which she, her husband, and her Royal guests took part. The theatre at Chantilly, celebrated for its elaborate decorations and beautiful scenery, was approached by a terrace adorned by forty-eight marble vases; whence a double staircase led through the Salon d’Apollon. Palm-trees formed an avenue before its entrance, and the back of the theatre opened upon the garden, where a statue of Diana surrounded by waterfalls stood in the background. Amongst the improvements in the gardens first introduced by this Prince was a “Hameau,” which was erected long before that in the Petit Trianon at Versailles. From the time of Henri IV Chantilly, as we have seen, had been a favourite pleasure-resort for Royal personages. Louis XV used to combine excursions thither with his visits to Versailles. The King of Denmark, the hereditary Prince of Prussia, and Gustavus III, King of Sweden, were all entertained at the ChÂteau; and the latter presented to the Prince de CondÉ the magnificent cabinet containing many strange and curious minerals now at the MusÉe CondÉ. In 1782 the Comte du Nord, afterwards the Emperor Paul of Russia, with his wife, Dorothea of Wurtemberg, paid a long visit to Chantilly. One of the Russian ladies-in-waiting, the Baroness Oberkirch, gives the following description of their stay: “We joined the Prince at eleven o’clock, which was the dinner-hour. This dinner, which opened the fÊtes of the day—we were a hundred and fifty at table—was splendid, and quite in accordance with the traditions of this princely house, so famous for its magnificent hospitality. When we left the dining-hall we found carriages waiting for us. The Prince and the Duke, his son, themselves drove us along the avenues, where a thousand surprises were prepared for us. The trees were hung with flags and decorated with the Russian colours. After the drive we went to the theatre. They played The Friend of the House, The Supposed Poet, and The Fifteen-year-old Lover. The latter piece told the love-story of the Duc and Duchesse de Bourbon and had been played on the eve of their wedding. It ended with a fine ballet. On coming out we found the gardens illuminated and fireworks blazing all round, while the faÇade of the ChÂteau was decorated with the heraldic bearings of the Emperor and Empress. Supper was served on the Isle d’Amour and then followed a ball which was so gay and full of merriment that it seemed to us a quite exceptional thing, since this is not usually the case amongst princes. The next morning a hunting-party was arranged, a diversion of which the CondÉ princes and princesses are particularly fond. A stag was hunted for three hours, and when at last he went into the water he was followed by the whole pack of hounds. The sight was really superb.” A picture representing this famous hunting-party was painted by Le Paon and presented to the Russian Emperor. It still hangs in one of the Imperial Palaces in St. Petersburg; but a copy was offered to the Duc d’Aumale by the Grand Duke Wladimir, which is now in the MusÉe CondÉ. Another day the magnificent stables were visited and dinner was served in the central hall beneath the cupola. Much admiration was expressed for the gorgeous hangings which divided this part of the building from the rest. When the Royal party left the table these hangings were lifted on both sides, so as to exhibit the two hundred and forty horses stabled in either wing. At that time two bronze horses stood beside the great fountain, which was completed in 1782. But they disappeared during the Revolution. The hostess upon this occasion was the Princesse Louise de CondÉ, for the Duchesse de Bourbon, after but a few years of married life, separated herself from her gay young husband. This Princess inherited her father’s great qualities. She had been educated in the same convent where a relation of hers, Henriette de Bourbon CondÉ, was Abbess under the name of Madame de Vermandois—a lady of whom it was rumoured that she had refused to marry Louis XV and had preferred the life of a convent to that of Queen of France! Over the young Princesse de CondÉ she exercised great influence and Princesse Louise tells us that she looked upon her as a mother, since she had never known her own. Of her father she saw very little; but in her childhood he used to send the Surveyor of the Province to her every Sunday to ask whether she wanted anything. At the age of twelve she left this peaceful life for Paris, where she attached herself to her cousin Princesse Bathilde d’OrlÉans, who presently became her sister-in-law. These two Princesses had each a royal household of their own, with maids-of-honour and attendants; and they were permitted to receive the visits of relations and certain selected friends. The Duc de Bourbon, whose attachment to his sister was the one redeeming point in his otherwise unsatisfactory character, often came to see her, and it was during one of these visits that he first met his wife. The Princesse Louise de CondÉ at this time was presented at Court, where her beauty and grace created a great sensation; and she then received the title of “Mademoiselle.” The Duc d’Artois, third son of the Grand Dauphin, was greatly attracted by her, and a marriage between them was much discussed in Court circles. It was even said that it was desired by the people; but Louis XV, wishing to revenge himself upon Louis Joseph for having opposed the “pacte de famine,”[14] insisted on his grandson marrying Marie ThÉrÈse of Savoy. This bitter disappointment, coming to her in yet tender years, made a deep impression upon the Princess, and from thenceforth she preferred solitude to worldly pleasure. She continued to reside in the Convent, refusing all other proposals of marriage, and devoting herself to literature. Later on in life she indulged in a platonic friendship with the Marquis de Gervaisais, who is said to have collaborated with her in the drama of Friendman. They often made excursions together from the watering-place of Bourbon d’Archambault, where the Princess had gone for her health, to visit the old ChÂteau de Bourbon; and it was during these excursions, amid ruins clad with ivy “as with a Royal mantle,” that the young poet wrote this drama (subsequently acted at Bourbon d’Archambault), wherein he hymned the praises of his adored Princess. “L’Âme n’a pas d’Âge, comme elle n’a pas de sexe” wrote her admirer. But Louise de CondÉ, who at first had given herself up entirely to the joy of meeting with a kindred soul, recoiled suddenly on finding that this friendship was on both sides fast approaching passionate love. At a period of history when princely personages rarely denied themselves anything that attracted their fancy, it is remarkable to find a Princess who held such a high moral standard, and this also at a time when Madame du Barry was the supreme ruler of the Kingdom of France. The Princess went so far as to force herself to give up this friendship, because she became aware that her sentiments towards the poet were after all not wholly platonic, and that she, as a Princess of the Blood, could not marry him. It is characteristic of the customs of the period that Louis Joseph looked very indulgently upon his daughter’s friendship, and even proposed to secure for the Marquis de Gervaisais means for leaving his regiment at Saumur in order to come to Paris and thus be able to meet the Princess more freely. It was the lady herself who could not be induced to do aught that might bring a stain upon her name; and she wrote a most touching letter of farewell to Gervaisais, imploring him not to answer it, nor to try to meet her again, requests which his unbounded love for her induced him to accede to. The festivities given in honour of the Russian Grand Duke were the last of the entertainments held at Chantilly; for, although the Princesse Louise in the absence of the Duchesse de Bourbon made a charming hostess, the separation of her brother from his wife, who had returned to her own family, cast an inevitable gloom over Chantilly. The young heir, the Duc d’Enghien, however, became warmly attached to his aunt, who acted as a mother to him. He was highly gifted and very proud of his famous ancestor, the Grand CondÉ. On taking his seat in the Parlement at the early age of sixteen he made a most able speech; whereupon the President remarked that never before had three members of the CondÉ family honoured the House of Peers at the same time. This, alas! was not for long; for we now approach that fateful year 1789, and the horrors of the French Revolution. In July of that year, late in the evening, an adjutant of the Prince de CondÉ arrived breathless at the ChÂteau, bringing tidings of the terrible events which had just occurred in Paris. He told how a bullet aimed at the Royal carriage had killed a woman standing near; and how the King had been applauded when he appeared on the balcony bearing a “cocarde tricolore.” On hearing this, the three Princes de CondÉ accompanied by Princess Louise departed next day for Versailles. Their advice to Louis XVI was “not to yield”—advice which the King was loth to follow. The three CondÉs, seeing that they could not prevail upon him to remain firm, determined to quit France so as to be able themselves to remain true to their Royalist principles. In taking leave of the King, Louis Joseph said that he would endeavour to serve the Monarchy abroad, since he could no longer serve it in France. The three Princes returned to Chantilly for one day only, and then left France for Germany. The youngest, the Duc d’Enghien, was destined never to see his ancestral home again. It must have been a touching spectacle to see the old Prince de CondÉ, accompanied by his daughter, his son the Duc de Bourbon, and his grandson the Duc d’Enghien, leaving the sumptuous abode of their ancestors, so full of glorious memories. The Comte d’Artois—afterwards Charles X—followed their example; and numerous French officers volunteered to make common cause with Prince Louis Joseph de CondÉ, whose name was associated so closely with the glories of France. There still exists a history of CondÉ’s army written by Bittard des Portes, wherein is related in detail the courage and fortitude with which these French emigrÉs endured their great privations. The Austrian General WÜrsmer, we are told, was deeply moved at the sight of CondÉ’s regiment, which he styled “la vielle France militaire”; and Napoleon, in his Memoirs, when speaking of the CondÉs and their army abroad, wrote: “La France donna la mort À leur action, mais des larmes À leur courage. Tout dÉvoÛment est hÉroÏque.” CHAPTER IX
CHANTILLY DURING THE FRENCH REVOLUTION NO sooner had Chantilly been deserted by its owners than a detachment of the National Guard of Paris was sent down to the ChÂteau. The twenty-seven cannons were first seized: then all the arms found were taken away; and finally the whole property was confiscated. Next a band of six hundred soldiers arrived, devastated the place, and removed what they pleased. Fortunately, the art-treasures did not attract them, as is proved by the Inventory made in 1793 of the pictures and furniture then at Chantilly—a document which took forty days and cost 2,130 francs to draw up. Throughout the period of the Revolution the ChÂteau at Chantilly was used as a prison for political offenders; and the first arrivals were forty-one persons from Beauvais,[15] amongst whom were M. des Courtils de Merlemont, Knight of St. Louis, with his wife and son. On the road thither they were deliberately exposed to the insults of the mob, but they escaped the execution which they anticipated. Arriving at two o’clock in the morning, they were thrust into the Chapel, but later on they were lodged in the ChÂteau itself, which had been already demolished to such a degree that none of the rooms were wind or weather tight. The moats had been allowed to dry up, so that they began to exhale unwholesome odours; and the number of sick persons amongst the prisoners soon amounted to over three hundred. The corpse of a young woman, who was the first to die, was transported on the back of the concierge to one of the still-existing chapels on the Pelouse built by Madeleine de Savoie, wife of Anne de Montmorency. Amongst the prisoners was the Duchesse de Duras, daughter of Philippe de Noailles, who had defended to the last the person of Louis XVI, and who, in consequence, ended his life on the scaffold. In some notes descriptive of her misfortunes, her arrival at Chantilly is most dramatically related: “We were first locked up in the chapel, which was still elaborately gilded, and where in the days of the CondÉs I had often heard Mass. It was now filled with sacks of flour, on one of which I took my seat, whilst the Commissioner mounted upon the altar. He was accompanied by one Marchand, whom I recognised as the son of my aunt’s chambermaid. This vulgar man concentrated all the insolence of the Committee of Public Safety. He derived much pleasure from saying rude and insulting things regarding the nobles and the clergy, and even expressed a wish that I should be lodged as uncomfortably as possible.” Fortunately he departed soon after this speech and the Commissioner, more humane, apportioned to the Duchess one of the better rooms. From her window she could see into the courtyard, and she descried many of her acquaintances amongst the prisoners and their children there assembled. She describes the food as scanty and of very poor quality. They dined in the gallery, where she could remember the brilliant fÊtes given by Prince Louis Joseph de CondÉ not so long before. The death-rate amongst the prisoners, to whom even the most necessary relief was denied, after a few months became so great that Chantilly had to be entirely evacuated; and it was then proposed that it should be used as a military hospital—a proposal which was, however, not carried out. Subsequently the ChÂteau d’Enghien[16] was converted into barracks, whilst Chantilly with its woods and parks found purchasers amongst the Black Band, who were then buying up the castles and palaces of the hated aristocrats with the sole purpose of demolishing them and profiting by just what could be got out of them as building material, etc. Of the so-called Grand ChÂteau, erected by Mansart during the time of the Grand CondÉ, nothing remained but the foundations; for it was razed entirely to the ground. The adjoining Petit ChÂteau of the Montmorencys, however, as already stated, miraculously escaped. Under Napoleon I, Chantilly in 1805 became the property of the State, but the revenue of its woods was assigned to Queen Hortense, who also figures upon the list of the owners of this famous estate. A military school was presently established in the ChÂteau d’Enghien, and the magnificent stables were once again devoted to their proper uses. Meanwhile Prince Louis Joseph de CondÉ since he left France had sojourned with the Elector at Worms, as Commander of the army of the French emigrÉs, whilst the Comte d’Artois had formed his camp at Coblenz. The former subsequently found a refuge for his family and his regiment with the Tsar Paul; but eventually, when he saw that he could no longer serve France and his King, he retired with his son to Wanstead House, near Wimbledon. Over the doorway of this most attractive abode the Seigneur of Chantilly inscribed the motto “Parva domus magna quies.” Here he married as his second wife Marie Catherine de Brignole, the widowed Princess of Monaco, who had long been his constant and faithful friend, especially during his exile. She shared with him his literary and artistic interests, and she put her whole fortune at his disposition when he was in need. His daughter, Louise de CondÉ, after many vicissitudes, at last found quiet and rest in a Benedictine convent, where she took the veil. In 1807 she received a terrible shock when the news reached her of the tragic death of her beloved nephew, the Duc d’Enghien, and she felt it to be her duty to leave her seclusion and proceed at once to condole with her father and brother in their overwhelming sorrow. She started immediately for England, where she was received on landing with Royal honours: Pitt, Lord Moore, and the two surviving CondÉ Princes coming to meet her. The execution of the Duc d’Enghien has left a stain on Napoleon’s character; it was not only a crime, but what was worse, it was a blunder; for d’Enghien at the time of his arrest was living in strictest seclusion at Ettenheim in Baden with the Princesse Charlotte de Rohan, to whom he was deeply attached, and, it was said, had married. He was therefore absolutely innocent of the conspiracy against the Republic, of which he was accused; and it is affirmed that it was only because Bonaparte could not get hold of the legitimate Princes—Artois and Berry—whose claims to the throne of France he grudged and feared, that he took his revenge upon the Duc d’Enghien. He had tried in vain to entrap these Princes, and failing committed this act of personal revenge on the eve of proclaiming himself Emperor, in order to frighten the Royalists, who, as he declared, were continually conspiring against him. When this dastardly murder became known there was a cry of indignation all over Europe. The Russian Court went into mourning, and Napoleon found it necessary to lay the blame upon Talleyrand and Murat. The grief of the unhappy father at the loss of his only son and the last scion of his race was so great that he became a prey to chronic melancholy; but Louis Joseph, the grandfather, strove bravely to live down his anguish. More than twelve years had still to elapse before their exile was ended, and then, for a brief period, on the collapse of the Napoleonic Empire, the Bourbon Monarchy was restored in France. At last, in 1815, the two CondÉs returned to Chantilly from England and found the old place, with the exception of the Petit ChÂteau, which they henceforth made their chief abode, a pile of ruins, and themselves almost strangers. The Princess of Monaco had died in England; and the Duc d’Enghien, upon whom all hope had centred, had been ruthlessly slain. In spite of all these misfortunes Louis Joseph remained faithful to the old home and began to repurchase his former possessions acre by acre. Some portions of the property had passed into alien hands; as, for instance, the site of the great waterfall, which had been separated from the original grounds by a wall. One of the alterations made at this time was the filling in of the moat, which hitherto had divided the smaller from the larger ChÂteau; and later the present Entrance-Hall was built on that site, whilst two new rooms decorated in the style of the period were added where the covered bridges had formerly stood. These new buildings gave access to the rooms formerly occupied by the Grand CondÉ, which, by a strange piece of luck, the Revolutionists had not demolished. The old Prince held these apartments in high honour; and they were the first to be redecorated and exquisitely panelled. During the four remaining years of his life he was continually occupied in restoring his ancestral palace to that dignity which he remembered so well in the past. He also succeeded in recovering the larger number of the works of art which the Montmorencys and the CondÉs had accumulated, not only at Chantilly but also at Ecouen and the Palais Bourbon in Paris. Most of these treasures had fortunately fallen into good hands, for during the worst horrors of the Revolution there had been men in France who had succeeded in preserving the art treasures belonging to the old family mansions which their proprietors had been compelled to abandon. Alexander Lenoir was one of these faithful guardians, and it is certainly due to his efforts that so many of these monuments and works of art in France were not destroyed. Conspicuous amongst them were the valuable collections at Chantilly. But after the long exile of the owners no more entertainments were held at Chantilly such as had been given so lavishly in happier days. After the great reverses which Louis Joseph and his son had undergone they seemed to indulge in one pleasure only, namely, that of the chase—the single luxury which they allowed themselves. They kept a splendid pack of hounds—the descendants of which still survive and are lodged in a corner of the great stables—and in spite of his great age the Prince himself appeared on horseback almost daily; often alone, but sometimes accompanied by his son, and hunted until quite late in the afternoon. Though past his eightieth year, he still had vigour enough, even on his return from a day’s hunting, to shoot the wild duck which abounded in the moats. He died at Chantilly in his eighty-second year during the absence of both his son and his daughter, and was buried at Saint-Denis. As a true CondÉ he was very imperious and held strong opinions of his own: but he was tenaciously faithful in his friendships; and it was, no doubt, this fidelity to the Royal cause which characterised his conduct during the Revolution, and made him sacrifice everything rather than give up his Royalist principles. His son, the Duc de Bourbon, had not the iron nature of his father. He refused to take the title of Prince de CondÉ on his father’s death, since he knew that this title must die with him. He, who had begun life under such happy auspices, long before his death became a broken man. His wife, the Duchesse de Bourbon, Louise Marie ThÉrÈse Bathilde of OrlÉans to whom he became reconciled after a long separation, died suddenly whilst attending a patronal festival at Saint-GeneviÈve. She fainted whilst at her devotions, and on being transported to the Sorbonne died before her husband could be summoned. Her favourite nephew, the Duc d’OrlÉans—afterwards King Louis Philippe—was the only member of her family present when she expired. It was at about that time that Louis Philippe’s fifth son was born—a child who eventually became the last Seigneur of Chantilly. He was held at the baptismal font by the last CondÉ, who from this time formed a great affection for his godson. He used to walk with him in the grounds of Chantilly and narrate to him all the memorable events which had taken place in this ancestral abode; and Henri d’OrlÉans, then but seven years old, would listen with the greatest attention, and long after remembered the colloquies held with his princely sponsor and benefactor—the last of the line of CondÉ. He thus refers to him: “When recalling my childhood, I picture to myself M. le Duc de Bourbon, dressed in his habitual grey coat, white silk stockings, and light shoes, walking about in the grounds of Chantilly on cold December days. Leaning on his stick he would sometimes stand still and relate to me what had happened in years gone by at the old place; how he had known it in its splendour during his youth; and how all these sad changes had come upon it. He loved to recall also the grand festivities given by his father to King Louis XV, to Marie Antoinette, and to the Emperor and Empress Paul of Russia.” In 1830 Marie AmÉlie, Queen of Louis Philippe of France, visited Chantilly with her son, Prince Henri d’OrlÉans, and was received by the last of the CondÉs. A fortnight later the news was brought there that this princely line had come to an end. It has been alleged that the unfortunate liaison which the Duke had contracted with a heartless and low-born woman—one Sophie Dawes, the daughter of a fisherman in the Isle of Wight, and known as the Baronne de FeuchÈres—contributed greatly to embitter the last days of his life. After pocketing all she could, Madame de FeuchÈres on the death of the Duke left for England rather suddenly, and from that time was heard of no more. Louise, Princesse de CondÉ, died several years before her brother at the Temple as Prioress of the Benedictine Nuns. She had borne with much fortitude great trials; for during the Revolution she had to flee from place to place for safety, until she found at last a shelter within the walls of a convent—thus fulfilling the prophetic words of her friend, Gervaisais, “C’est un front À porter une couronne ... ou un voile de religieuse.” CHAPTER X
THE DUC D’AUMALE LORD OF CHANTILLY AFTER the death of the last CondÉ, Chantilly was once more left desolate and abandoned, since Prince Henri d’OrlÉans, the heir, was still a child. In 1820 his eldest brother, the Duc d’OrlÉans, inaugurated at Chantilly the races which now rank as the French Derby, and which have continued every year up to the present day. In connection with these races the Duc d’OrlÉans, with the help of General Peel—a brother of Sir Robert Peel—successfully undertook to breed English racehorses in France; and Chantilly thus became a racing centre to which the Élite of French society thronged every year to attend a “Meeting” which speedily became one of the most famous in the annals of Sport. Residential accommodation was then very restricted, for only the Petit ChÂteau and the ChÂteau d’Enghien were available, the Grand ChÂteau not having yet been rebuilt. The theatre where MoliÈre, Racine, and Corneille produced their plays had also vanished; a substitute was therefore improvised for these occasions by the ComÉdie FranÇaise on the site of the present Library. But OrlÉans Princes in those days had not so much leisure for mere recreation as had their predecessors. In that same year the Duc d’OrlÉans started for Algiers, taking with him the Duc d’Aumale, then only eighteen. In spite of his youth on the premature death of his elder brother he was entrusted with the command at Medea, where he distinguished himself greatly, and became so beloved that the tiny little Arab house which was his temporary residence there is still preserved by a grateful nation. Engaging in a variety of operations in Algeria, he brought this campaign to a brilliant ending in 1844 by a victory over Abdul Kader; by which he succeeded in capturing the concealed camp “La Smalah” where this chieftain and his staff had been residing. This victory was principally due to the young Duke’s great energy and powers of endurance. In the MusÉe CondÉ there is a room called “La Smalah,” where we may still see numerous paintings and sketches by Bellange and Horace Vernet illustrating this victorious African campaign. On the Duke’s return from Algiers a marriage was arranged between him and Caroline Auguste de Bourbon, daughter of the Prince of Salerno and the Archduchess Marie Clementine, sister to Napoleon I’s second wife, Marie Louise of Austria. The nuptials were celebrated at Naples, and a few days later the young pair left for France, where they were impatiently expected by Queen AmÉlie, who was overjoyed to welcome one of her own relatives as her son’s bride. It had been agreed that Chantilly should be the home of the newly married pair; and in 1843 the architect Duban received instructions to execute the necessary alterations; whilst to EugÈne Lami—the same artist who painted the portrait of the young Duchess which now hangs over one of the doors of the Salle Caroline—was entrusted the decoration of the various apartments. The ground-floor apartments of the Petit ChÂteau—the same suite which the Grand CondÉ had selected for his son Henri Jules and his children—were the rooms chosen for the personal occupation of the Duke and Duchess. In 1845 Louis Philippe paid a visit to his son at Chantilly, and made himself very popular on that occasion by telling his coachman to drive slowly across the Pelouse, because he had heard some ladies complain that if he drove so fast no one could see him. The title of CondÉ was conferred upon the Duc d’Aumale’s eldest son, born at Saint-Cloud, in the hope that he would revive so illustrious a name. He was brought to Chantilly at the age of six months and remained there until the Duchess joined her husband at Algiers, where he had been nominated Governor. It was then proposed that extensive alterations at Chantilly should be carried out during the absence of the Duke and Duchess, and it was their intention to return thither in the following summer. Fate, however, decreed otherwise. In February 1848 Louis Philippe was compelled to abdicate in favour of his grandson, the Comte de Paris, then a mere child; and to avoid further difficulties the ex-King left immediately for England, and took up his residence at Claremont under the style of Comte de Neuilly. This unfortunate event obliged the Duc d’Aumale to resign his commission in the French army, to which he had rendered such signal service. He thenceforward resided with his family in England, chiefly at Twickenham, whither the larger part of the artistic furniture and works of art from Chantilly were transported. This was done at the special request of the Duchess, whose desire it was to reconstitute as far as possible her lost home in the land of their adoption. An Imperial Decree next commanded that all the properties of the Royal Family of France should be sold within a year. The sale of Chantilly—of course a fictitious one—was thereupon carried out by the English bankers Coutts & Co., who sent Colonel McCall, a representative of their own, to reside upon the estate. He dwelt in the ChÂteau d’Enghien, and administered the whole of the property on behalf of the Duke; whilst the Petit ChÂteau was let to Lord Cowley, who made it his summer residence. Later it was successively occupied by the Comte DÛchatel and the Duc de la TrÉmoille. Twenty-three years later, after the disaster at Sedan and the fall of the second Empire, the Duc d’Aumale was once more permitted to return to Chantilly. Many changes had occurred during this long interval. The Duchess, overcome with grief at the death of her eldest son, the Prince de CondÉ, had died in exile. That young Prince was the last to bear this illustrious name. He is said to have been highly gifted, and to have possessed great qualities. He had been educated chiefly in England, and had distinguished himself in his studies at Oxford, where he showed a remarkable talent for languages. It was, however, his noble and affectionate character that specially endeared him to his parents. Like his father he was filled with a passionate devotion for his native country. When the Crown of Greece was offered to the Duke, subject to a condition that the Heir-Apparent must change his religion and his nationality, although he had decided not to accept the honour, he thought it his duty to communicate the proposal to his son. Whereupon the lad wrote from Switzerland, where he was undergoing his military training, the following reply: “Having had the high fortune to be born a Frenchman and a Roman Catholic, I will ever remain French and Roman Catholic.” Not long after this incident the young Prince started for a voyage round the world, but before its completion died of typhoid fever at Sydney in Australia. The Duc d’Aumale on his return to Chantilly was accompanied only by his younger son, the Duc de Guise, and it was not possible even then for him to obtain possession of it. The ChÂteau and the Pavillon d’Enghien were still occupied by Prussian officers, whilst in the town of Chantilly there was a garrison of German soldiers who were holding the Mayor and the Vicar as hostages. It was under such sad circumstances that the heir of the CondÉs saw once more the heritage from which he had parted so many years before. On attempting to enter the Park unobserved by a side gate his distinguished appearance awoke recognition in one of his old keepers who, bowing low and with tears in his eyes addressed him by name. Whereupon the Duke found it impossible to control his emotion. As soon, however, as the German troops had departed, His Royal Highness entered upon his property and, in spite of all the sorrows which had fallen upon him since he had left his beloved home, he yet felt happy at being once more on French soil, and able to educate his only surviving son in his native land. The young Duc de Guise was sent to a college in Paris, but spent his holidays at Chantilly; and father and son, as in the time of the last two CondÉs, were often seen riding and hunting together in the park and woods. From time to time also the Archduchess Marie Clementine, mother of the late Duchess, visited at the ChÂteau. In 1872 all the surviving members of the French Royal Family assembled at Chantilly to celebrate the wedding of Princesse Marguerite, daughter of the Duc de Nemours with Prince Ladislas Czartoysky; and on this occasion the great battle-pieces representing the military glories of the great CondÉ were replaced in the Gallery. In the early spring of that year, King Edward and Queen Alexandra—then Prince and Princess of Wales—paid a visit to the Duc d’Aumale; with whom they had contracted a warm friendship during his residence in England. But just when calm and happiness seemed to have at last returned to Chantilly, another heavy blow fell upon it. The young Duc de Guise was struck down by typhoid fever and died after a few days’ illness. With his sudden death all plans for the improvement of the ChÂteau and estate came to an abrupt standstill, for the heart-broken father had now to realise that, as he himself mournfully put it, “la derniÈre flamme de son foyer Était Éteinte.” A new scheme now took shape in the heart of the Lord of Chantilly: a scheme at first kept to himself, and which had revolved in his mind long before he made it public. He intended to take France by surprise. This scheme was a no less magnificent one than to bestow Chantilly with all its appurtenances and contents upon the French nation. Once more the long interrupted design of the architect Duban, made before the exile of the Duke and Duchess, was recommenced: this time by M. Daumet, who undertook also the difficult task of rebuilding the Grand ChÂteau. After years of labour there arose once more upon the vaults of this famous fortress the present building, destined to become the MusÉe CondÉ, a veritable palace of Literature and Art. Its architecture, in order to harmonise with that of Montmorency’s Petit ChÂteau, is directly copied from sixteenth-century designs. But to erect the stately marble staircase with its splendid gilt iron railings, an undertaking which offered the greatest difficulties, it was necessary to pierce the solid rock. The Chapel, adorned by an elegant spire and full of valuable relics of the Montmorency and the CondÉ families, was also restored at this time. It contains an altar of Senlis marble, the joint work of Jean Bullant and Jean Goujon; and exquisite wood carvings, dated 1548, were brought from Écouen, an old seat of the Montmorency family. In the stained-glass windows (dated 1544) are represented the sons and daughters of Anne de Montmorency, whose effigy and that of his wife, Madeleine of Savoy, are painted on the wall by a modern painter from a cartoon by Lechevallier Chevignard.[17] The fine bronze monument to Henri II de Bourbon by Jacques Sarrazin has also found a permanent abode in this chapel. It was saved by Alexander Lenoir and presented to the Prince de CondÉ in 1815. During the execution of these works Chantilly was frequently the scene of very interesting family gatherings. Queen Christina of Denmark, on the occasion of the marriage of her youngest son Waldemar to Princesse Marie, eldest daughter of the Duc de Chartres, made a lengthy stay at Chantilly; and not long afterwards Princess Marie AmÉlie, daughter of the Comte de Paris, was betrothed here to the Duke of Braganza, afterwards King of Portugal. But in that same year Republican France suddenly pronounced a further sentence of banishment upon all claimants to the French Throne—Royalist and Imperialist; in which order the Duc d’Aumale was included. In his quality of a General in the French Army, he protested against this, but without avail; and once more Chantilly was deserted. But this time it was not for long; for on returning with a heavy heart to his English home at Woodnorton and feeling his end drawing near the Duke resolved to make known immediately the act of munificence upon which he had so long decided. He therefore made public his intention of leaving Chantilly with all its forests, parks and lakes, and all its art-treasures to the care of the Members of the Institut de France, in trust for the French Nation. This was his dignified answer to the French Republic; and it made a deep and lasting impression in France. Nor was this act of generosity without immediate consequences, for shortly after a Decree signed by President Carnot was sent to the Duke with the assurance that France would welcome him back. Plate XIX.
Plate XIX. HENRI D’ORLÉANS, DUC D’AUMALE. MusÉe CondÉ. LÉon Bonnat. facing page 124 HENRI D’ORLÉANS, DUC D’AUMALE.
MusÉe CondÉ. LÉon Bonnat. facing page 124 On March 9, 1889 he returned to Paris, and his first act was to present his thanks to the President, who seemed much touched by the words which he uttered upon this occasion. A hearty welcome greeted him from the people of Chantilly; and on his arrival at the station he was accompanied by a vast crowd to the door of the ChÂteau. A medal was cast in commemoration of this return, upon the obverse of which was a figure contemplating France from afar and the word “Spes”; upon the reverse a figure at the gates of the ChÂteau holding an olive-branch and the inscription “À S.A.R. Monseigneur le Duc d’Aumale; en souvenir du 11 mars 1889, les habitants de Chantilly reconnaissants.” Subsequently an equestrian statue of the Duke was cast and placed near the entrance of the ChÂteau by the people of Chantilly, who regarded him and his ancestors as their benefactors. And it was here amongst his art treasures that he spent the last years of his eventful life.
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