CHAPTER IV.

1644 to 1649.

Campaigns of Condé in Flanders and on the Rhine—Congress and peace of Munster—Madame de Longueville at Munster—Her portrait by Van Hull—Her return to France—Her brother, the Prince de Conti—Sonnets of Voiture and of Benserade—La Rochefoucauld—Commencement of his connection with Madame de Longueville—The first Fronde—Noble conduct of Condé—Madame de Longueville at the hôtel de Ville—Birth of Charles de Paris, Count de Saint-Paul—Peace of 1649.

We have passed over the most truly beautiful period of the youth of Madame de Longueville, that wherein the splendor of her success was not at the expense of her virtue. The time approaches in which she is about to yield to the manners of her age, and to the long combated wants of her heart. The love which she inspired in others, she is, in turn, about to feel herself, and to engage her, at the age of twenty-eight or twenty-nine years, in a fatal connection, which will make her forget all her duties, and turn her most brilliant qualities against herself, against her family, and against France.

In order to measure the fault of Madame de Longueville, it is necessary to know to what grandeur the house of Condé had reached by its faithful service of king and country.

In the history of France, there are no more glorious years than the first six of the Regency of Anne of Austria and of the government of Mazarin,—tranquil at home after the defeat of the party of the Importants, triumphant upon every battle-field, from 1643 to 1649, from the victory of Rocroy to that of Lens, connected by so many other victories, and crowned by the treaty of Westphalia. It is the house of Condé which occupies nearly the whole of this memorable epoch, or therein, at least, plays the most conspicuous part. In the council, M. the Prince seconds Mazarin, as he had done Richelieu, and shares with him the government. The intrepid Brézé, opening the list of the great admirals of the seventeenth century, holds in check or disperses, in the Mediterranean, the fleets of Spain. M. de Longueville, charged with the greatest embassy of the times, places in the diplomatic balance the weight of his name, of his moderation, and of his magnificence. As to the young Condé,—who has not read, at least in Bossuet, his campaigns in Flanders and upon the Rhine? We have shown how valuable to France was the victory of Rocroy, in 1643; those which followed were not less necessary.

We have for some time been permitted to speak of Condé as of a young hero, who owed all his success to the ascendency of an irresistible courage. Let us beware of making him a paladin of the middle age, or a brilliant grenadier like such or such a marshal of the empire, or a captain of the family of Alexander, of Cæsar, and of Napoleon. Like them, Condé had doubtless a genius for war, and, as well as Alexander, he excelled especially in execution, and fearlessly exposed his person; but it seems that the splendor of his bravery had concealed the grandeur and originality of his conceptions, as his extreme youth, at Rocroy, had caused a forgetfulness of the fact that for many years he had studied war with passion, and had already made three campaigns under the most renowned masters. If this were the proper place, and if I dared to encounter ridicule by setting myself up as a military man, I would like to compare the campaigns of Condé, in Flanders and upon the Rhine, with those of General Bonaparte in Italy. They have many things in common: the youth of the two generals,[272] that of their principal lieutenants, the political grandeur of the results, the novelty of the manœuvres, the same strategy, the same calculations served by the same audacity, by the same activity, by the same obstinacy. It is degrading the art of war to measure military success by the number of combatants, for we should thus make Tamerlane and Gengis-Khan the two greatest captains of the world.

The general of the army of Italy, like Condé, had little more than twenty or twenty-five thousand men drawn up in his greatest battles.[273] I can say to the honor of Condé, that he always had before him the best troops and the best generals of his times, among others, Mercy, the first captain of Germany during the seventeenth century.[274] At one time he had under his command only an army composed of different nations, whose jealousies, and even defections, betrayed his greatest designs. At another time he was at the head of fatigued and discouraged troops, whose whole strength was in himself alone. And then—which is, in my eyes, the most certain evidence of a great man—he founded an immense school: he left to France many great generals formed by his lessons, prepared by his hands, and who, at a great distance from him and after him, gained victories. To him are we, in a great measure, indebted for Turenne, who, by seeing his actions at Fribourg and at Nortlingen, added more and more activity and audacity to his other qualities. We are indebted to him for Luxembourg and Conti. We are also indebted to him for many others, who might perhaps have equalled those already mentioned, but whose bright hopes were too suddenly extinguished, Gèvres, Laval, La Moussaye, Châtillon. To all this add that magnanimity of a high-born man, who, instead of attributing the honor of success to himself alone, shared it with all those who served him well, and took pleasure in praising Gassion and Sirot after the victory of Rocroy, Turenne after Fribourg and Nortlingen, and Châtillon after Lens.[275]

Condé conquered at Rocroy by the very simple manœuvre which we have pointed out.[276] The problem was, to arrive in the shortest time and with the greatest force upon the point which was to decide the day. It was evident that, the left wing of the enemy being dispersed, but his right wing victorious and threatening to crush all in its way, it was necessary, at every hazard, to arrest and destroy it. To reach this in the speediest manner possible, from the height of the battle-field where Condé was, the most direct road was to make a passage through the Spanish army, by forcing his last line, and falling afterwards like a thunderbolt upon the rear of his triumphing wing. If the infantry, whose overthrow was sought, had been that of the Count de Fontaine, it would have remained firm, checked Condé, and achieved his destruction; but he knew that this infantry was a mixture of Italians, Walloons, and Germans: he hoped, therefore, to succeed by dint of energy. For this reason he led the charge himself, and performed prodigies of valor with the most severe calculation. Afterwards, when he was complimented on his courage, he replied that he had never shown any except when it was necessary. It is true that heroes alone have audacity at will. He conducted himself almost in the same manner during the following year, 1644, in his great combats with Mercy, near Fribourg. Finding it impossible to separate any of the divisions of the imperial army, which were protected by formidable intrenchments, he attacked them himself with that French fury to which every thing yields;[277] at the same time he sent Turenne, during the night, to a great distance, through frightful gorges, as did Bonaparte in the marshes of Arcola,[278] to take in flank and rear the hostile army, which would have been destroyed, if Mercy, warned in season and confounded by such a manœuvre, had not hastily escaped. In the second battle of Fribourg, Condé renewed this same manœuvre, sending Turenne to a still greater distance than before, in order to cut off all retreat for Mercy, whilst he attacked him in front, and to crush him in his camp or force him to capitulate. The vigilant Mercy escaped a second time; but his retreat, admirable as it was, resembled no less a defeat, for he lost not only the honor of his arms and of the field of battle, but all of his artillery and a part of his troops.

In 1645, Mercy and Condé met again. Mercy had just fought with Turenne at Mariendal. This victory had inflated the courage of the Imperialists, and the emperor and the King of Bavaria were unwilling to make peace. Condé, in again taking command of a defeated army, found it, as in the preceding year, composed of 5000 Weimarians, survivors of the battle of Mariendal, 4000 Swedes, 6000 Hessians, and 8000 Frenchmen, which he had with him. With these 23,000 he conceived the plan of the campaign which was afterwards partly executed by Moreau and completed by Napoleon. He resolved to risk a great battle with Mercy, and after having routed him, to march upon Munich and Vienna, and to dictate peace to the emperor in his capital. This plan failed because Condé was at the head of a combined army; because the Swedes and the Hessians refused to follow the French general to such a distance, and because the Swedes even withdrew. Condé could not expect any aid from France, which was exhausted in order to send five armies into Spain, into Italy, into Lorraine, into Flanders, and upon the Rhine. He abandoned therefore his greatest military conception with sorrow and rage, as did Hannibal when he was compelled to quit Italy: it was his wish to exterminate the army of Mercy. The latter, who knew the man with whom he had to deal, had taken a position quite as strong as that of Fribourg—a position which protected him against the favorite manœuvres of Condé—to cut off the enemy or surprise him at a distance in flank or rear. Turenne declared that to attack an enemy thus intrenched was ruinous; and Napoleon, whom no one will accuse of timidity, was of the same opinion.[279] Condé replied as a politician rather than as a military man, that it was in vain to undertake by any manœuvre to drive Mercy from a position wisely chosen; that it was necessary, therefore, either to attack him or to retreat, and that to retreat would shake the confidence of all our allies, after the defeat of Mariendal and the defection of the Swedes. France was in need of a victory. Condé gained that of Nortlingen, but he gained it, thanks to two accidents upon which he had no right to count—thanks also to the inspiration of a great character. It must be confessed that in execution Condé was never greater. He saw at once that every thing depended upon Mercy’s centre. He made it his own business to attack it. He had one horse slain under him, two wounded, and twenty cuts upon his arms and clothes. Marsin, who under him commanded the French centre, was dangerously wounded, and the intrepid La Moussaye was disabled. The French and the Imperialists, by turns conquerors and conquered, performed prodigies of valor. It was a frightful butchery. Mercy perished in it. In the mean time, Jean de Wert, who commanded the left wing, descended from the height which he occupied, crushed the right wing of the French, and dispersed our reserve, notwithstanding the efforts of his two chiefs, Chabot and Arnauld.[280] It would have been fatal to the whole army, if, instead of amusing himself with pursuing the flying and pillaging the baggage, Jean de Wert had thrown himself upon the rear of our half-destroyed centre, and pressed our left wing between his victorious squadrons and the still entire division of General Gleen. This error, and the death of Mercy, saved Condé, because he knew how to profit by them with incomparable promptitude. He saw that, after having lost his right wing, his reserve, and a great part of his centre, to try to retreat with his left wing was an operation apparently prudent, but really rash, before an enemy which had still great masses of infantry, much artillery, and a redoubtable cavalry; he saw that it was better to maintain the combat, and that by exposing himself to peril, he might possibly conquer. This rapid glance of a strong mind, which seizes and embraces the only means of safety, however perilous it may be, is the characteristic of the genius of Condé. All wounded as he was, harassed with fatigue, but drawing new vigor from the grandeur of his resolution, he places himself at the head of the left wing of Turenne, dashes, as if in the very beginning of the battle, upon the right wing of the enemy, plunges into its midst, and makes prisoner of its commander; then, turning to the right, he throws himself upon the centre of the Imperialists, rescues his own, rallies it, leads it anew to the combat, and, master of the battle-field, prepares himself to meet Jean de Wert, who, returning from his useless pursuit, learning the death of Mercy[281] and the capture of Gleen, amazed at the disaster produced by his absence, dares neither to attack nor to await Condé, but gathers together his shattered army, and flies to Donauwerth. Condé had, in this second combat, another horse killed under him; he also received a pistol-shot, and indeed barely survived his victory. It was at this time that he suffered from that severe sickness, on recovery from which he found that he had lost with his blood and his strength all his passion for Mademoiselle Du Vigean.[282]

Condé is one of the small number of captains who have no less excelled in the art of besieging than in that of combating.[283] After Rocroy, in 1643, he took Thionville, one of the first fortified places of the times. In 1644, he took Philipsbourg, which commanded the upper Rhine. In 1646, having had the wisdom to consent to serve under the Duke d’Orleans, in order to quiet the distrust and please the vanity of this prince; and although placed in command of the army only at the close of the campaign, he terminated it by a memorable siege, in which he covered himself with glory: he took Dunkirk on the 11th of October,[284] 1646.

Accustomed to repair the errors of others, Condé went, in 1647, to take the place of Count d’Harcourt, who had just made a failure before Lerida. Mazarin had wished, several times, to send Condé to Catalonia; his father, M. the Prince, had always opposed it, and all his friends dissuaded him from accepting this command. He certainly showed great deference for Mazarin, by quitting the ordinary theatre of his exploits for a country where it was necessary to engage in a petty war, with an army incapable of giving battle, and, at most, fit only to sustain itself before the enemy. When every one was making sport of the Count d’Harcourt, who had been unable to take Lerida, Condé had the good sense and generosity to defend this excellent general: he thus in advance defended himself. In fact, having arrived in his turn before Lerida, and receiving from France neither the troops which had been promised to him, nor the munitions and artillery, of which he was in absolute need, and not having sufficient force to meet the Spanish army, and not being able to think of assaulting Lerida with a handful of half-dead soldiers, he had the courage to raise the siege and to make a good retreat, preferring the safety of the army to his own reputation. This conduct, sustained by his accustomed hauteur, did him the greatest honor, and proved that he was master of himself and knew how to employ by turns prudence or audacity according as circumstances demanded.

Thus, at Lens in 1648, finding the Archduke Léopold in a position as formidable as that of Mercy at Nortlingen, he saw that it would be highly imprudent to tempt fortune a second time; and, knowing that he had not now to deal with Mercy, he undertook to draw the Archduke Léopold and General Beck upon more favorable ground, in a plain where the principal force of the French army, the gendarmery, commanded by Châtillon, might have a great advantage. Numbers, abundance, and discipline were on the side of the Spaniards; misery and audacity on that of the French. Behind the centre of the archduke were towns and hamlets, forming natural intrenchments. His right, composed of all that remained of the old national bands, rested upon the city of Lens. His left wing was posted upon an eminence, which could not be reached except through the most narrow paths. It was necessary to manœuvre with infinite art to induce an enemy to abandon such an impregnable position. Condé commanded a false retreat, which explained perfectly the weakness of the French army. Beck, deceived, detached the Lorraine cavalry to disturb, and, if possible, to cut in pieces our rear guard, which was promptly enough broken and thrown into confusion. Châtillon marched to their aid with his gendarmery; he drove back the Lorraine troops, and threatened them with slaughter. They could not be abandoned. The archduke sent all his cavalry to their assistance. The combat began; the whole of the hostile army moved and descended into the plain. This was precisely what Condé desired. The very same manœuvre that had failed at Nortlingen, succeeded at Lens. The imperial army had still the immense disadvantage of being obliged to form as it advanced, while the French army had been since morning arranged in good order at the extremity of the plain, upon well-chosen ground. Condé relied especially upon the gendarmery of Châtillon; he had recalled it soon after the first engagement, and had placed it in the second line to give it time to refresh; afterwards, when the two contending bodies had become closely engaged, he let it loose again with its intrepid general, and, after being so useful at the beginning of the fight, it finally decided it by over-throwing every thing in its way. The Spanish infantry remained; it did not show the same obstinacy as at Rocroy, but it cried for life. Old General Beck conducted himself like Fontaine and Mercy: he fought like a lion, was wounded and taken, and he died of despair. The Archduke Léopold, after conducting himself well, escaped into the Pays-Bas with the Count de Fuensaldaigne.

The victory of Lens was as important and as useful as that of Rocroy: to it is due the recommencement of the negotiations of Munster and the conclusion of the treaty of Westphalia. This treaty was the result of the five great campaigns of Condé in Flanders and on the Rhine. Condé was there an armed negotiator, as we might say; M. de Longueville was, at Munster, a pacific negotiator.

Father Bougeant, in his estimable history of the treaty of Westphalia,[285] supposes that Mazarin sent the Duke de Longueville to Munster, “in order to remove from the court a prince capable of exciting troubles in it.” But, in 1645, Mazarin had no more troubles to fear, and the Duke de Longueville was not a man to create them: he suffered himself to be guided at that time, as well as the rest of his family, by the policy of its chief, M. the Prince. It is much easier to believe that it was the latter who gave the embassy of Munster to his son-in-law. Mazarin had not chosen him for his capacity, although he was not deficient in it, but to aid d’Avaux and Servien, who stood in need of him, and to give éclat to the French legation. He remained master of the negotiations, and the Condés must have been flattered to be at the head of the most important diplomatic affair, having already command of the fleet in the Mediterranean, and of the army upon the Rhine.

M. de Longueville had to pursue the great object at which the French cabinet had aimed from the time of Henry IV.,—the enfeebling of the empire to the advantage of France. With this view it was that the very Christian king, the Cardinal Richelieu, and the Cardinal Mazarin united with the Protestant Gustavus Adolphus, drew him into the heart of Germany, him and after him his lieutenants, and sustained Protestant Holland against Catholic Spain. This struggle, which, for thirty years, was carried on with so much éclat, continued for more than twelve years at Osnabrück and at Munster. On the one side were Austria, Spain, and Bavaria, with the ecclesiastical electors of Mayence and of Cologne; on the other, the Protestant powers, Brandenburg, Saxony, Hesse, with their allies, Holland, Sweden, and France. The Protestant party wished to obtain the greatest concessions, and the Catholic party to make the fewest possible. They advanced and receded according to the vicissitudes of war. Richelieu had designated the man, who had all his confidence, Mazarin and the Count d’Avaux, of the powerful family of Messne, to represent France at Munster. When Mazarin succeeded Richelieu in the ministry, he named in his own place Count Abel Servien, uncle of the skilful and judicious Lyonne, who was to him what he had himself been to Richelieu. He retained d’Avaux, who had wit and penetration, uprightness and nobleness, with a degree of piety which made him acceptable to the Catholic powers, but which carried him a little too far to make him accommodating with them, and at the same time more anxious for the advantage of the Church than policy demanded. Servien alone was the depository of the thoughts of Mazarin, and Mazarin, like his predecessor, knew but one interest, that of the greatness of France. He was desirous of obtaining from the empire the whole of Alsace, with some strongholds upon the Rhine, in order to complete the legitimate development of France in that quarter. He had still another ambition, which Richelieu had bequeathed to him, and which he bequeathed to Lyonne: it was that of tearing from Spain the trade of Catalonia, where Richelieu and himself had cunningly carried the war against the Low Countries, without which France has really no northern frontier, and is exposed, after an unfortunate battle, to the passage of a hostile army even to the very walls of Paris. Such were the thoughts which occupied the mind of Mazarin, and which he pursued at once, by means of negotiations and by arms, with the mildness and constancy which characterized this great statesman.

M. de Longueville arrived at Munster on the 30th of June, 1645, at nearly the same time that his brother-in-law, the Duke d’Enghien, was going to take command of the army of the Rhine, in the place of Turenne, who had just suffered a very grave defeat at Mariendal. The victory of Nortlingen, of the 5th of August, 1645, gave the greatest strength to M. de Longueville; and the Duke of Bavaria, the second Catholic power of Germany, who had broken off negotiations after the battle of Mariendal, recommenced them eagerly after that of Nortlingen. The cession of Alsace was then almost gained; but victorious Mazarin could with difficulty renounce the hope which he had long entertained of acquiring the Low Countries from Spain in exchange for Catalonia. Therein resided all the difficulty of the negotiations, the knot which no skill could loosen, and which the sword alone could cut. It was reserved for Louis XIV., at the close of the seventeenth century, after having lost the three statesmen who, for a long time, formed his strength and his glory, Mazarin, Lyonne, and Colbert; it was reserved for him to abandon the schemes of his predecessors, and, when it was proposed that he should receive the Low Countries in return for his rights over Spain, to reject this favor of fortune, which Mazarin and Richelieu would have embraced with transports of joy; this he did for the sake of family interest, staking his own crown for the sake of placing one upon the head of his grandson, and jeopardizing the safety of France without giving to it, even for a quarter of a century, the alliance of Spain. We may remark in passing, that this incredible resolution, poorly covered with an appearance of grandeur, and the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, are the two great personal inspirations of Louis XIV.: they determine his policy, internal and external, compared with that of Mazarin, of Richelieu, and of Henri IV. It is impossible to recount all the efforts made by Mazarin, in 1648, to induce Spain to yield to him the Low Countries. He offered, with all Catalonia, the young Louis XIV. for the infanta Maria-Thérissa. At the same time he sent d’Estrades, with whom we have before become acquainted,[286] into Holland, in order to promote the arrangement which he so ardently desired: he went even so far as to propose Antwerp to the commerce of Holland. It was a powerful temptation; but Holland resisted it; she was weary of a war which must thus be prolonged; and besides, she was beginning to be less afraid of Spain, and was hoping a great advantage by acquiring a conquering neighbor instead of a feeble one. Spain, on her side, saw our horizon darkened with new troubles, and, full of hope, she broke off negotiations, made a separate treaty with Holland, and persuaded the emperor to unite with her in a last and powerful effort. One man alone was able to save France, menaced as it was in 1643. This man was the conqueror of Rocroy. It was then that Condé, who was well acquainted with the position of affairs, engaged, upon the plains of Lens, on the 20th of August, 1648, in the memorable battle which we have described, in which he was as prudent as ever Turenne had been, and as bold as his own genius and circumstances permitted. From this moment negotiations were conducted with promptness. On the 24th of October, 1648, was signed, at Munster, the Treaty of Westphalia, which gave peace to Germany for a century, which there strengthened religious liberty, and which acknowledged all the conquests of France over the empire.[287]

Thanks to this treaty, Mazarin had now Spain alone in view, and he hoped soon to bring it to that point which could give to France a frontier on the north similar to that which it had just acquired on the south of Germany. He dreamed of obtaining, at the close of a few more fortunate campaigns, a treaty still more favorable than that of the Pyrenees, in 1660. He had in his hands the conqueror of Lens, whom he hoped to launch upon the Low Countries; it was in his power to send into Spain and into Italy, generals still superior to d’Harcourt and to Schomberg; he hoped to maintain or re-enkindle the insurrection of Naples: a magnificent future was before France. Who deprived her of this future? Who divided and exhausted her strength? Who made her, with a suicidal hand, shed her own best blood? Who sowed discord among the most illustrious of her captains? Who arrested Condé in his course, at the age of twenty-seven years, when he might yet have added so many victories to all those of his youth, when he might have planted the standard of France in Brussels or in Madrid?

The Fronde it was that committed the inexpiable crime of having stopped the rise of Condé and of French grandeur. And, in return, did it increase and develop our old national franchises? Far from that: by an inevitable reaction, it disgusted France, for a long time, with an anarchical liberty, incompatible with public order, with the force of the government and of the nation; it took away from royalty every species of counterpoise; it produced the despotism, at first intelligent and useful, afterwards improvident and grievous, of Louis XIV.

And now, what gave birth to the Fronde, or what sustained it? What raised up the old party of the _Importants_, stifled, it would seem, under the laurels of Rocroy? What separated the princes of the blood from the crown? What turned against the throne that illustrious house of Condé, which, until then, had been its buckler and its sword? There were doubtless many general causes for all this; but it is impossible for us to conceal one, private, it is true, but which exercised a powerful and deplorable influence—the unexpected love of Madame de Longueville for one of the chiefs of the _Importants_, who had become one of the chiefs of the Fronde. Yes—I say it with regret—it was Madame de Longueville, who, joining the party of the malcontents, attracted thereto, at first, a part of her family, then her whole family, and thus precipitated it from the pinnacle of honor and glory to which so many services had elevated it.

Let us narrate, as rapidly as possible, what we know of Madame de Longueville, from the moment that we left her until the commencement of the year 1648.

No authentic documents, printed or in manuscript, authorize us to suppose that before the close of the year 1647, Madame de Longueville had ever passed the limits of fashionable gallantry. On the 4th of February, 1644, soon after the adventure of the letters, and of the tragic quarrel which followed it, she gave birth to a daughter, who received the name of her mother and of her brother, Charlotte Louise, Mademoiselle de Dunois, and who died on the 30th of April,[288] 1645. A year after, the 12th of January, 1646, she had a son, Charles d’Orleans, Count de Dunois, who was expected to succeed to the titles of his father, but who, ill-favored by nature, attempted, without success, various careers, and finally buried himself in the Church, at the close of the century, under the name of the Abbé d’Orleans. In 1647, she gave birth to a second daughter, Marie Gabrielle, who died in 1650. We shall presently speak of the last son, who was born during the Fronde.

Madame de Longueville was twenty-five years of age at the time of the duel between Coligny and Guise, in 1644. Each year only added to her charms. The glory of her brother fell upon her, and she responded to it somewhat by her own success at court and in the _salons_. She acquired more and more the manners of the times. Coquetry and wit formed all her occupation. Her delicate situation not permitting her to accompany M. de Longueville to Munster, in June, 1645, she remained in Paris; she enjoyed it very much, and, whether her heart had already been touched, or whether it was still entirely free, it is clear that she was not very glad, after her confinement, in 1646, to join, under the sky of Westphalia, a husband who was not, as Retz says, the most agreeable man to her in the world.[289] Imagine, in fact, this spoiled child of the hôtel de Rambouillet leaving Corneille and Voiture, all the elegances and refinements of life, to go to Munster, to listen to the German or Latin conversations of foreign diplomatists. It was to her a double exile, for her country was not only France, it was Paris, it was the court, it was the hôtel de Condé, Chantilly, the Place-Royale, the Rue Saint-Thomas du Louvre. It was, however, necessary to obey, and to set off with her step-daughter, Mademoiselle de Longueville, who was already more than twenty years of age. In order to have something of Paris, she took with her several men of letters, and among others, Claude Joly, uncle of Guy Joly, author of the _Mémoires_, canon of Nôtre-Dame, who remained all his life attached to the Condés, and who made himself known by different works full of learning and of merit;[290] also the academician and oratorian Esprit, one of the frequenters of the hôtel de Rambouillet,[291] who had just been embroiled with the Chancellor Séguier, for having favored the marriage of his daughter, the Marchioness de Coislin, with the son of Madame de Sablé, the handsome and brave Marquis de Laval, who was killed some time after, by the side of Condé, at the siege of Dunkirk. A little before her departure for Munster, Esprit had introduced to Madame de Longueville one of the old favorite poets of Richelieu, Bois-Robert, who had continued to be dazzled with the new éclat of her whom he had formerly admired amid the fêtes of Ruel. It was in the following terms that Bois-Robert relates to Esprit his visit, and describes to him Madame de Longueville. The verses are mediocre, but we must be satisfied, for they hold the place of an infinite number of other verses, which we might with propriety quote, in regard to the same person and the same epoch, and which are still worse:[292]

Almost conceal’d beneath the crystal wave, She raised her naked arms her brow to lave. My eyes the living marble haply spied; To test its warmth my glowing bosom sigh’d. The sprightly zephyrs in a merry mood Her tresses bore along the silvery flood; They kiss’d her neck, they kiss’d her cheeks, whose hues Gay Nature when she paints but seldom woos— A neck and cheeks that verily might claim To put the fairest flowers of Spring to shame. With fingers, rosy as Aurora plies, The moisture dashing from her fretted eyes, She now reveal’d, as ne’er reveal’d before, Those two resplendent suns which to adore I dropp’d my eyes, because my feeble sight Could not endure such dazzling floods of light; And in one living form I saw combined All ever seen of beauty most refined: But how her coral lips shall I extol? Oh how express the rapture of my soul, When to the charms which bade me most rejoice, She added too the music of her voice? etc.

Madame de Longueville left Paris on the 20th of June, 1646, accompanied by her step-daughter, and with a numerous escort under the command of Montigny, lieutenant of the guards of M. de Longueville. The whole journey from Paris to Munster was a continual ovation. Her course may be followed day by day, and from city to city, thanks to the detailed narrative of Claude Joly. Belgians, Hollanders, Spaniards, Imperialists, and every one strove to show their gallantry to the beautiful ambassadress. Governors went out to meet her at the heads of their garrisons. The keys of the cities through which she passed were offered to her. She had continual escorts of cavalry. The Duke de Longueville went as far as Wesel to meet her. Turenne, who then commanded upon the Rhine, exhibited to her his army drawn up in order of battle. Was it then that the great captain, well known to be sensible to beauty, received the impression which was renewed at Sténay in 1650, and which, prudently preserved by Madame de Longueville, always formed between them a tender and intimate connection?[293]

On the 22d of July she made a triumphal entry into Munster. Holland was too near to her not to tempt her curiosity. She took a walk thither, if we may thus speak.[294] During all the autumn of 1646 and the winter of 1647, she was truly the queen of the congress of Munster. Her graces made their impression upon diplomatists as well as upon warriors. She connected herself particularly, in the French embassy, with Claude de Mesmes, Count d’Avaux, of whom we have already spoken, and who was the friend and correspondent of Voiture, of Madame de Sablé, and of Madame de Rambouillet. We have before us some manuscript letters of d’Avaux to Voiture: they are very agreeable, but not very natural; and, amid Latin quotations, then very fashionable among people who prided themselves upon their erudition, they show us what an impression was made by Madame de Longueville upon the dean of our diplomatic corps. She did not appear very melancholy to d’Avaux; but the rival of Servien was perhaps better fitted to discover cabinet intrigues than to read the heart of a woman.

“It is to[295] Madame de Montausier and to Madame the Marchioness de Sablé that I am indebted for the favors which I have received from Madame de Longueville.... You say that commerce is dangerous with a person so well made, as if the great disproportion and the great distance between those persons and such as myself did not shelter me. You know that the eloquence of Balzac makes no impression upon the mind of a peasant. No, no, I am not afraid. It would be strange enough if in a peaceful assembly I had not sufficient public faith for my preservation, and if, with the passports of the emperor and of the king of Spain, Munster should not be a safe place for me.... I look however, I do not pluck out my eyes. I see beauty greater than I have ever seen before; I see all of what is graceful and charming that can be united, and a something which, it seems to me, can nowhere else be found, with so much majesty:

Video igne micantes, Sideribus similes oculos, video oscula, sed quæ Est vidisse satis.

I admire with you that goodness, that generosity, and those amiable qualities which we shall always vie in praising, but which we can never praise enough. The correctness of that mind, its strength and its extent, astonish me also, and sometimes displease me with myself; for there is in it so much that is extraordinary and above the age and the sex. Suppose that I was made of stuff as combustible as you,[296] who still complain of the trials of youth, how small a spark would set me in a blaze! A _précieuse_, who has travelled two hundred leagues to join an old husband, who has quitted the court for Westphalia, who is here in continual gayety, who was lately delighted to see a comedy among the Jesuits (truly, however, in good Latin), who gives constrained audiences, who converses pleasantly with M. Salvius, M. Vulteius, and M. Lampadius,[297] who is not frightened if a big Hollander kisses her twice during his regular daily visits, who receives agreeably the civility of another ambassador counselling him to learn German for his recreation, who with all this preserves her embonpoint and pleasant countenance....”

“... I must indeed revenge myself a little now. Some complaints are made here of your taciturnity; but they are uttered by persons of no very great consequence: by no one in fact but Madame de Longueville, and she is hardly worth speaking of. She has paid you some very great compliments; her friends have received orders to solicit your remembrance; she has requested them several times to let her lose nothing in the friendship which you promised her; in short, she has sent you word that she was not proof against such continued indifference, and yet she receives no satisfaction. This is perhaps, as you say, because commerce is dangerous with her, and you yourself take the advice which you give me; but the poor princess cannot be consoled.... Although you were a perfect philosopher, and although you had lost sentiment and life, you should at least speak when Madame de Longueville looks at you, even as did the statue of Memnon when it was illumined by the rays of the sun. If you continue, I doubt not that you will be set down as a mute. Give your orders, if you please. All that I could do for you was to answer your letter to M. the Duke d’Enghien.[298] Madame, his sister, read it with great pleasure; and, M. Esprit entering the room a quarter of an hour afterwards, she was very glad to have another pretext for seeing it again, and left her seat to hear it read once more. This is not all: she requested me to send it to her the next day, with the promise that she would take but a single copy to place among her papers. I will not tell you how much she thinks of it; but will content myself with simply confessing, that it is one of the most delightful things in the world, to see this mouth filled with your praises, and that your name is nowhere more magnificently entertained....”

Voiture is not in arrears with his ingenious correspondent on the account of Madame de Longueville:

“... I am very impatient to witness the return of Madame de Longueville after the conclusion of a good peace. What you say to me of this princess is as beautiful as she is herself, and I shall keep it for her to look at some day.... Tell the truth, my lord: do you think it is possible to find, I do not mean in a single person, but in every thing that is beautiful and lovely throughout the world—do you think it is possible to find so much wit, grace, and charm as there is in this princess? Be on your guard. She writes to us wonderful things concerning you, and of the friendship that exists between you. Commerce is dangerous with her. I assure you besides, that she is as good as she is beautiful, and that there is no soul in the world more lofty or better than hers....”

A little while after, January 9, 1647, he says:

“... Respect has hitherto prevented me from writing to Madame de Longueville; but you make me much more afraid of her by representing her to me as being so serious and so occupied with politics. We take great pleasure in imagining her entertaining M. Lampadius (he is said to be dressed ordinarily in violet satin), M. Vulteius, and M. Salvius, and especially that big Hollander.

‘Dulcia barbarè Lædentem oscula quæ Venus Quinta parte sui nectaris imbuit.’

“His advice to her to study German for her amusement, has been a subject of great mirth for Madame de Sablé and Madame de Montausier....”[299]

Among the monuments of the abode of Madame de Longueville at Munster, we must place the portrait which was made of her by Anselme Van Hull, and which was engraved with those of M. de Longueville, of d’Avaux, and of Servien, in the collection of portraits of all the princes and diplomatists assembled at Munster.[300] It is a bust. Even in the engraving, mediocre as it is, we perceive the charming softness of the eyes. A mass of blonde hair surrounds her face.[301] Her bosom, partly exposed, appears in its modest beauty. A small collar of pearls adorns a fresh and delicate neck. The following lines, written perhaps by d’Avaux or Voiture, are placed beneath the portrait:

These heroes gather’d in Westphalia, From France, the North, from Spain, Italia, Finding so many charms in me, Fancy, as my face they see, That I the living form must be Of Peace and Concord, hither sent, War’s dire misfortunes to prevent.

In the mean time, all the circles of Paris mourned the absence of Madame de Longueville. Godeau did not cease to urge her return in the name of the hôtel de Rambouillet:

“Is it not better, madame,” wrote he to her, “that you should return to the hôtel de Longueville, where you are still more powerful than at Munster? Every one is wishing it this winter. My lord, your brother, has returned covered with palms; come back yourself crowned with the myrtles of peace, for it seems to me that it is not enough for you to carry olive branches alone. I dare not explain myself farther, lest I should be guilty of gallantry. This I leave to the Julies and to the Chapelains, etc.”[302]

She had enjoyed sufficiently her brilliant exile, but, with her habitual politeness and sweetness, she dissembled her weariness. In the winter of 1647, she had two reasons for returning to France. Her father, M. the Prince, died at the close of December, 1646: this was an immense loss to his family and to France, and its consequences were soon keenly felt. In addition to this, Madame de Longueville had, for the third time, found herself _enceinte_ at Munster. Her mother was, for this reason, anxious to have her at home; and M. de Longueville was constrained to permit his wife to take the road to Paris.

Her return to France—first to Chantilly, then to Paris—in the month of May, 1647, was a very different triumph from that which characterized her journey upon the Rhine, and into Holland, and her abode at Munster. She found the crowd of her adorers more numerous and more eager than ever; and in the first rank was her brother, the Prince de Conti, who, fresh from college, was taking his first lessons in the world. Let us say a word in regard to this new personage, who now appears for the first time, and who will play a very conspicuous part in the life of Madame de Longueville.

Armand de Bourbon, Prince de Conti, who was born in 1629, was eighteen years of age in 1647. He had a good mind, and not an unpleasant face; but a slight deformity and a certain feebleness of body, rendering him unfit for the army, he was early destined for the Church. He had studied among the Jesuits at the college of Clermont, with Molière, and M. the Prince, before his death, had obtained for him the richest benefices,[303] and demanded a cardinal’s hat. While waiting for this hat, Armand de Bourbon was living at the hôtel de Condé, partly an ecclesiastic, partly a man of the world, all occupied with wit, and greedy of every species of success. The glory of his brother filled him with emulation, and he dreamed himself of warlike exploits. When his sister returned from Germany, he went to meet her, and, dazzled by her beauty, her grace, and her fame, he began to love her rather as a gallant than as a brother.[304] He followed her blindly in all her adventures, in which he exhibited as much courage as lightness. When he had made his peace with the court—thanks to his marriage with a niece of Mazarin, the beautiful and virtuous Anne-Marie Martinozzi—he obtained the command-in-chief of the army of Catalonia, in which capacity he acquitted himself with great honor. He was much less successful in Italy. On the whole, he was far from injuring his name, and he gave to France, in the person of his young son, a true warrior, one of the best pupils of Condé, one of the last eminent generals of the seventeenth century. Constrained, through ill-health, to betake himself again to religion, the Prince de Conti finished, where he had begun, with theology. He composed several meritorious and learned works on various religious subjects.[305] In 1647, he was entirely devoted to vanity and pleasures. He adored his sister, and she exercised over him a somewhat ridiculous empire, which continued during several years.

The court and Paris were then occupied with festivals and enjoyments, which all were eager to share with Madame de Longueville. To please the queen, Mazarin multiplied the balls and the operas. At a great expense he sent to Italy for artists, singers, male and female, who represented an opera of _Orpheus_, the machinery and decorations of which are said to have cost more than 400,000 livres. The queen delighted in these spectacles. France also, as if touched with its own grandeur, took pleasure in the magnificence of its government, and seconded it by redoubling its own luxury and elegance. The pleasures of wit occupied the first rank. The hôtel de Rambouillet, near its decline, was shedding its last rays. Madame de Longueville reigned there as well as in all the circles of Paris; and, it must be confessed, with her good qualities she had also the defects of the best _précieuses_. The following is the picture which Madame de Motteville has traced[306] of her person, of the turn of her mind, of her occupations, of her credit, and of that of the whole house of Condé, at this period, which may be considered as the most brilliant of her life: “This princess, who, during her absence, reigned in her family, and whose approbation was sought as if she were a true sovereign, did not fail, on her return to Paris, to appear in greater splendor than when she left it. The friendship entertained for her by the prince, her brother, authorizing her actions and her manners, the greatness of her beauty and of her mind increased so much the cabal of her family, that she was not long at court without almost entirely engrossing it. She became the object of all desires: her clique was the centre of all intrigues, and those whom she loved became also the favorites of fortune.... Her intelligence, her wit, and the high opinion entertained for her discernment, won for her the admiration of all good people, who were persuaded that her esteem alone was enough to give them reputation. If, in this way, she governed souls, she was not less successful by means of her beauty; for, although she had suffered with the small-pox since the Regency, and although she had lost somewhat of the perfection of her complexion, the splendor of her charms exerted a powerful influence upon those who saw her; and she possessed especially, in the highest degree, what, in the Spanish language, is expressed by those words, _donayre, brio, y bizarrie_ (gallant air). She had an admirable form, and her person possessed a charm whose power extended over our own sex. It was impossible to see her without loving her, and without desiring to please her. Her beauty consisted, however, more in the colors of her face than in the perfection of her features. Her eyes were not large, but beautiful, soft and brilliant, and their blue was admirable: it was like that of the turquoise. Poets could compare the incarnation upon her face to lilies and roses only; and the light shining hair which accompanied so many wonderful things, made her more like an angel, such as our poor nature can imagine one, than like a woman.... She was then too much engrossed with her own sentiments, which passed for infallible rules while they were not always so, and there was too much affectation in her manner of speaking and acting, whose greatest beauty was attributable to delicacy of thought and correctness of reasoning. She appeared constrained, and the fine raillery, exercised by herself and her courtiers, often fell upon those who, while rendering her their homage, felt, to their mortification, that honest sincerity, which ought to be observed in polite society, was apparently banished from hers. The virtues and praiseworthy qualities of the most excellent creatures are mingled with things which are opposed to them: all men partake of this clay from which they draw their origin, and God alone is perfect.... In fine, it may be said that at this time all greatness, all glory, and all gallantry were confined to this family of Bourbon, of which M. the Prince was the chief, and that fortune was not considered a desirable thing, if it did not come from their hands.”

It was about this time that the two sonnets of Voiture and of Benserade divided the court and the city, the _salons_ and the academy. Almost all the documents appertaining to this little literary contest have been preserved;[307] but we have discovered some hitherto unknown, which we cannot withhold from the reader, because they show the passion which then existed for literary matters, the ascendency of Madame de Longueville, and the peculiar delicacy of her taste.

Voiture had just died in 1648, and his friends had caught, as the last sigh of his muse, the sonnet to Uranie. At the same time another sonnet appeared, written by one of the rivals of Voiture, younger than himself, and who had not been formed at the hôtel de Rambouillet: it was the complaint of a lover who pretended to be more miserable than Job, because Job could at least groan aloud on account of his misfortune, whilst the poor lover was compelled to suffer in silence:

Job, whom a thousand torments grieve, Shall to your eyes his torture prove; And yet with reason shall believe That they will not your pity move.

Regard his ills in every light, Feel every word as he explains: You grow accustomed to the sight Of one who suffers and complains.

Although his anguish was extreme, Yet human patience you will deem To have e’en his by far outdone. He suffer’d pangs past all belief, Complain’d, and told them one by one, But I have known far greater grief.[308]

All the fashionable lovers of the day, the languishing and the dying, admired this description of their martyrdom, the height of sorrow being to suffer without complaining; and it is certain that the close of the sonnet of Benserade is neither without spirit nor without charm. It created a furor. The sonnet of Voiture was of a very different character. It possessed a finished elegance, somewhat feeble it is true, but elevated and animated by a certain passionate accent, which is sweetly felt throughout it. It was of a more distinguished and more rare quality, and for this reason it had at first less success. Balzac[309] composed upon these two pieces a formal dissertation, in which he weighs in the balance of the most scrupulous criticism the merits and the defects of both. Corneille, annoyed by a quarrel which turned attention a little too much from his own works, began to make sport of the two sonnets; afterwards, the affair acquiring more and more literary interest, he engaged in it himself, and took sides with Job against Uranie, in a sonnet in which he does not hesitate to say that Voiture’s is doubtless _better conceived, better conducted, better finished, but that he would prefer to be the author of the other_. He returns to the charge in an epigram which terminates as follows:

The one displays more art, the other much more life; The one is more precise, the other much more _naïf_; The one shows labor long, the other much more sprite: In short, the one is right well made, the other pretty, quite. To use the fewest words I can— The one springs from a soul polite, The other from a gallant man.[310]

This was a very imposing judgment, and, to all appearance, there was little hope for Voiture, when Madame de Longueville undertook his defence. Her situation was somewhat embarrassing. Her brother, the Prince de Conti, was at the head of the Jobelins, and Esprit, who had accompanied her to Munster, and on whom she might have depended upon any occasion, Esprit, who, without ceasing to be of the Church, was occupied with the most gallant literature, as he will at a future day be occupied with sentences and maxims, had written very warmly in favor of Benserade. But Madame de Longueville was not the person to take the lucky side and to abandon her old friend Voiture. Her authority soon changed the face of the combat.

In the camp of the Jobelins was the Countess de Brégy, one of the ladies of honor of Queen Anne, and wife of a famous ambassador, from whom we have a collection[311] of prose and verse, and some _questions d’amour_, to which Quinault replied by order of the young king. She was much surprised to learn that Madame de Longueville preferred to the universally applauded sonnet a piece of verse which had not produced a very great effect. She hastened to write to her, asking permission to maintain her own opinion against hers. The following is her letter, with the diplomatic reply of the ambassadress of Munster.[312]

_Madame de Brégy to Madame de Longueville._

“Job, in ages past, was scarcely less humiliated than I now am to find myself opposed to the opinion of Your Highness; for if I had not enough sense to conform myself to it, my spirit of divination ought to serve the other in this encounter, and not permit him to endure the shame of seeing himself opposed to sentiments which I have regarded as a rule by which one could never fail. But, since I have taken up the cause of Job, more unfortunate because he suffers at your hands than on account of all his first evils, be pleased, Madame, to allow me an opportunity on Thursday evening to defend an unhappy person, against whom the devil has cunningly excited your persecution, as the only means of divesting him of that patience which he has exhibited for so many ages, and which cannot be preserved when one is despised by you.”

_Madame de Longueville[313] to Madame de Brégy._

“Your letter has done more for the sonnet of Job than Benserade himself; and it occasions me so much regret at not entertaining sentiments conformed to those of the person who wrote it, that, if it does not make me alter, it makes me at least condemn my own, thus obtaining from me a preference for Job, which I should have always refused so long as the sonnet had spoken for itself. This, I think, is all that a generous person can do for a party to which she does not belong; and I assure you that if yours is not that of my choice, it is exalted in my esteem. I shall be glad to see you on Thursday, and to hear you advocate the cause of Job; but be admonished, at least, that I will hear you argue against my past sentiments only, consenting no longer to oppose your own, etc.”

The two ladies contended, as we see, in the most courteous manner; but they contended warmly and for a long time. I conjecture that aside from literature there was some secret motive in it all. Madame de Brégy was beautiful and coquettish as well as intellectual. She could, without much difficulty, believe that the piece of Benserade was addressed to her, and that it was an indirect declaration of a somewhat plebeian love, condemned to wear out secretly in suffering. Benserade had, at least, composed for her an epistle, in which he pleads the fear of love as his excuse for flying from her.[314] Madame de Longueville could not have forgotten all the verses which Voiture had written in her praise while yet quite young; and perhaps the latter, on again beholding, in 1647, the noble beauty in all the splendor of her charms, quitting his former familiarity for an affectionate respect, was desirous of ending as he had begun, and dying, as was then said, in the service of her whom he called Uranie, a celestial beauty upon whom he dares scarcely to lift his eyes.

In love with Uranie I’ll pine e’ermore; Absence nor time to me affords a cure; Naught can my pain the least relief procure, Nor any thing my freedom e’er restore.

Her chains oppress me each day more and more; But witnessing her beauty passing pure, I willingly can any death endure, And e’en her tyranny dare not deplore.

My reason, feebly though, sometimes essays To urge me to revolt, its strength arrays; But when to use it I am ever prone,

It strives in vain my shackles to remove Then claims that worth is Uranie’s alone, And, more than all my senses, prompts to love.

Madame de Longueville thought, moreover, that her preference was supported by very good reason, and in this we are inclined to agree with her. The work of Benserade possesses undoubtedly more wit, invention, and even originality, since it is certainly something quite new to place in the mouth of Job a declaration of love: that of Voiture, to us, possesses a secret and melancholy gracefulness which touches the heart. With Corneille, we find the sonnet of Job _prettier_, though _unnatural_—a strange eulogium, and one hardly to be expected here from either party pronouncing it; but the sonnet of Uranie seems to us to proceed more from one in love, and this it is which decides us. Perhaps if Madame de Longueville had conversed with Corneille, she would have converted him in the name of their common principles; she succeeded, at least, in overcoming her brother, the Prince de Conti, who, after having made a sonnet to Benserade, at last took the part of Voiture and of his sister. She launched against him Sarrazin, whose commentary in verse we still possess—a commentary that turns into ridicule the sonnet of Benserade and the opinion of Esprit:

Sir Esprit, of the Oratory, In you we piety perceive, Thus crowning, as you do with glory, “Job, whom a thousand torments grieve.” etc.[315]

Madame de Longueville herself wrote to Esprit a letter, in which she evinces a fine cultivated literary taste. She acknowledges, in the sonnet of Job, a gallant air and delicacy, but nothing more. With the exception of a few lines, all the others seem to her full of faults, and she carries refinement and preciseness so far as to designate certain expressions of Benserade as disgusting, meaning by this, vulgar. On the contrary, she finds in the sonnet of Voiture, beauty and force of expression, with thoughts which, though not new, possess the sovereign merit of passion. She makes a thousand concessions to Esprit; she asks pardon for her audacity in differing with him;[316] she announces, at the same time, that she means to continue the war; she appeals to _all Rambouillet_, and jests pleasantly upon this new kind of Fronde.

_Madame de Longueville to Monsieur Esprit.[317]_

“It is true that I am in the utmost astonishment to find our tastes so different in this matter; and my astonishment is the greater because it seemed to me a subject upon which our sentiments should be the same. For, in short, with the exception of the seventh, eighth, and last lines of the sonnet of Job, I find it not only full of faults, but even of such as you have never been able to endure; its expression goes so far as to be disgusting; whereas, in the piece of Voiture (at least in its last six lines), the most beautiful and forcible expression in the world is united with a thought which, though not certainly new, is so passionate that it should, it seems to me, be more highly esteemed than the mere delicacy which characterizes that of Job. I confess that it has as gallant an air as any thing that I have even seen; also, although I find reason upon my side, I think that if there is none which authorizes the other party, there is at least the greatest cause in the world for preferring its taste; and if one may suffer himself to be seduced without dying of shame, I confess that it is upon such an occasion. This is all that my natural justice can permit me to feel for those who have not followed my sentiments. I send you what will acquaint you with the manner in which my brother has made known his own, that is, his final opinion; for the first was made in prose, and more favorable to Uranie than to Job, but with the declaration that if he should choose to send one of the two sonnets to his mistress, it would be that of Job. Neither party was satisfied with this judgment, not being able to turn it fully to its own account. A more decided one was demanded. There are some who think that even this[318] is not so; but, for my own part, I am contented that Voiture is therein pronounced admirable and grand, and Benserade only gallant and pretty. He has made another sonnet, which I send you also, together with the list of our friends and of our enemies. They have taken sides uninfluenced by prejudice, politics, or any other motives than the force of reason in some cases, and the gratification of taste and blindness of mind in others. But I am not going so far as to use invectives, and I think that there is as little generosity in attacking a father of the Oratoire, as there would be in assailing an unarmed man. I close therefore for the very reason which made me prefer Uranie to Job, and the celestial muse to a man infected from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet.

“I beg you to tell M. the Abbé de Croisy,[319] that I wish him to take my part. I forgot to tell you that we are writing circular letters, and that we expect the opinions of M. and Madame de Montausier, of all Rambouillet, and of M. and Madame de Liancourt. In fine, this matter will not rest here; and if the excitement about it continues, the ministers will be more apt to occupy themselves with it than with the assemblies of the nobility; and the tolerance shown for our seditious manners, is the strongest indication which we have had for a year of the humbling of royal authority, for they are cantonments against the fundamental laws of a well-governed State.[320] In short, God wills it, and we have nothing to say.

“A word of reply in regard to persons of your own party and of mine, etc.”

Madame de Longueville gained the day; all the hôtel de Rambouillet went over to her side, and Benserade, beaten after having been triumphant, thus complained to her who had robbed him of his glory:

You give me then the lowest place! The vanquish’d in this contest I, I, elevated once so high, Must now conceal my blushing face.

This evil luck will soon apace Through mem’ry’s fane my name decry; And fallen, I must ever lie O’erwhelm’d with sorrow and disgrace.

We give also this pretty quatrain of Mademoiselle de Scudéry:

’Tis but the simple truth to say, Job’s fate most strange hath been; Tormented ever, day by day, First by a demon, by an angel then.

Such were the frivolous pastimes, at once innocent and dangerous, of Madame de Longueville. All the prosperities and all the felicities of life surrounded her. Every thing conspired in her favor, or rather against her,—the triumphs of the mind as well as those of beauty, the continually increasing glory of her house, the intoxication of vanity, the secret desires of her heart. The trial was too strong; she yielded to it. In the enchanted circle in which she moved, more than one adorer attracted her attention; one of them succeeded in winning her, according to all appearances, at the close of 1647 or at the commencement of 1648. She was then about twenty-nine years of age.

François, first Prince de Marcillac, afterwards, upon the death of his father, Duke de La Rochefoucauld, was the eldest son of François de La Rochefoucauld, whom Louis XIII. created a duke and a peer in 1622, and of Gabrielle de Liancourt. He was born December 15, 1613, and at an early age married Mademoiselle de Vivonne. He served honorably in Italy and in Flanders, and in 1646 he was wounded at the siege of Mardyck. As Retz says, he was not a warrior, although he was a very good soldier. Without being very handsome, he was well formed and very agreeable. What distinguished him especially was his wit. Of this he possessed an infinite fund, of the finest and most delicate. His conversation was mild, easy, insinuating; and his manners were at once the most natural and most polished. He had a lofty air. In him vanity supplied the place of ambition. At an early age he showed a fondness for distinction and for intrigues. Profoundly selfish, and having succeeded in acquiring a knowledge of himself and in reducing to theory his nature, his character, and his tastes, he set out with contrary appearances, and with those chivalrous manners affected by the _Importants_. One of his first connections was with Madame de Chevreuse, who gave him to Queen Anne. He entered so earnestly into the interests of the queen and into those of Mademoiselle d’Hautefort, that he conceived or caught the idea of carrying them away. “I was,” says he,[321] “at an age when one loves to perform extraordinary and brilliant things, and I thought that nothing could be more so than to carry off the queen at once from the king, her husband, and from Cardinal Richelieu, who was jealous of him, and of bearing away Mademoiselle d’Hautefort from the king, who was enamored of her.” He did not execute this fine project; but Richelieu, who had some suspicion of all these intrigues, placed him for eight days in the Bastile. It seems that he was not entirely a stranger to the conspiracies of Cinq-Mars. At the death of Richelieu he hastened to Paris, and, when that of Louis XIII. had placed the supreme authority in the hands of Queen Anne, he imagined that his fortune was made. He sought successively various important offices which the queen could not grant, whatever fondness she might have entertained for him. Madame de Chevreuse exacted for her old friend the government of Havre, which was then of the highest consequence; but this government was in the family of Richelieu, and Mazarin could not take it away from the Duchess d’Aiguillon. La Rochefoucauld aspired to the command of the cavalry; he was very brave, but he was not considered capable of such an employment. He tried thus several schemes; the queen applied herself to soothing his disappointments, by manners so tender, as to retain him, as would be now said, in a moderate opposition, and keep him from taking part in the violence of Beaufort. He was not then covered with the disgrace of the _Importants_, though he shared it to a certain extent; and he did not cease to be, or to seem to be, very much attached, not to the government, but to the person of the queen. He looked continually for some great favor at her hands. These favors not arriving, he determined to procure through intimidation what his fidelity had not been able to secure.

It was during this state of his feelings that he met Madame de Longueville, on her return from Munster, surrounded by the most earnest admirers. The Count de Miossens, afterwards Marshal d’Albret—handsome, brave, full of wit and of talent, as enterprising in love as in war—was paying her a very zealous court. La Rochefoucauld persuaded Miossens, who was one of his friends, that, after all, if he should overcome the resistance of Madame de Longueville, it would only be a victory flattering to his vanity, whilst that he, La Rochefoucauld, would be able to turn it to a very good account. This was certainly a very touching and heroic reason for loving! Corneille did not think of it in the _Cid_ and in _Polyeucte_. We have, however, done no more than to transfer, with the utmost exactness, a piece from La Rochefoucauld himself, which we will now quote, word for word:[322] “So much unprofitable labor and so much weariness, finally gave me other thoughts, and led me to attempt dangerous ways in order to testify my hostility to the queen and Cardinal Mazarin. The beauty of Madame de Longueville, her wit, and the charms of her person, attached to her all who could hope for her favor. Many men and women of quality strove to please her; and besides all this, Madame de Longueville was then upon such good terms with all her house, and so tenderly beloved by the Duke d’Enghien, her brother, that the esteem and friendship of this prince might be counted upon by any one in the favor of Madame his sister. Many persons vainly attempted this game, mingling other sentiments with those of ambition. Miossens, who afterwards became Marshal of France, persisted in it longest, but with similar success. I was one of his intimate friends, and he told me his designs. They soon fell to the ground of themselves. He saw this, and told me several times that he was about to renounce them; but vanity, which was the strongest of his passions, prevented him from telling me the truth, and he professed to entertain hopes which he had not, and which I knew that he could not have. Some time passed in this way; and, finally, I had reason to believe that I could make a more considerable use than Miossens of the friendship and confidence of Madame de Longueville. I made him believe it himself. He knew my position at court; I told him my views, declaring that my consideration for him would restrain me always, and that I would not attempt to form a connection with Madame de Longueville without his permission. I will even confess that I irritated him against her in order to obtain it, without however saying any thing untrue. He delivered her entirely to me, but he repented when he saw the result of this connection....”

La Rochefoucauld pleased Madame de Longueville, doubtless, by the graces of his mind and the charms of his person, and especially by that glory won for him by his conduct towards the queen, which was enough to dazzle a pupil of the hôtel de Rambouillet. He paid her homage which was, to all appearance, the most passionate in the world. In proportion as he insinuated himself into her heart, he skilfully aroused in her that desire of appearing and of producing an effect, so natural in woman. Little by little, he displayed before her eyes a new object which she had not yet perceived—an important part upon the theatre of events just opening. He transformed her natural coquetry into political ambition, or rather he inspired her with his own ambition.

When Madame de Longueville, touched by the passion shown for her by La Rochefoucauld, had determined to respond to it, she gave herself up to him entirely; she devoted herself to him whom she dared to love; she made it a point of honor, as well doubtless as a secret happiness, to share his destiny and to follow him without looking behind her, sacrificing to him all her private interests, the evident interest of her family, and the strongest sentiment of her soul, her tenderness for her brother Condé.

Oh admirable thing! do you know who it is that commits a crime against this devotion? He precisely who makes his profit in it. La Rochefoucauld expresses himself thus in regard to Madame de Longueville:[323] “This princess possessed all the advantages of mind and beauty to such a degree and with so much charm, that it seemed as if nature had taken pleasure in forming a masterpiece.... But these fine qualities were rendered less brilliant by a stain which was never seen upon a princess of such merit, which found no imitations on those who entertained for her a particular adoration; a stain which so transformed her in their sentiments, that she did not recognize her own. At this time the Prince de Marcillac shared her mind, and as he joined his ambition to his love, he inspired her with a desire for business, to which she had a natural aversion.”

Let us listen to the declared enemy of Madame de Longueville, her step-daughter, the Duchess de Nemours: “It will doubtless cause astonishment[324] that Madame de Longueville should have been one of the first (to join the party of malcontents), she who had nothing to hope from that party, and who had no reason to complain of the court.... M. the Prince felt an extreme tenderness for his sister. She, on her side, humored him, less from interest than from the particular esteem and tender friendship which she had for him. At this time neither she nor the whole cabal showed much wit in their designs; and although they were all possessed of enough of it, they employed it only in gay conversations, only in commenting and refining upon the delicacies of the heart and of the sentiments. They made all the wit and merit of a person to consist in making subtile distinctions and representations, sometimes unnatural enough. Those who made the most display were, in their opinion, the most creditable and most learned persons, and they treated as ridiculous and coarse whatever approached to grave conversation.... It was La Rochefoucauld who gave to this princess so many hollow and false sentiments. As he exercised a very great power over her, and as he seldom thought of any other person than himself, he drew her into all the intrigues in which she engaged, only to be able thereby to promote his own ends.”

Madame de Motteville, whom we must never grow weary of studying and citing when we wish to know and to establish the truth, after having marked the principal motive which urged La Rochefoucauld in his pursuit of Madame de Longueville, adds: “In[325] all that she has since done, it is clearly seen that ambition was not the only thing that occupied her soul, and that the interests of the Prince de Marcillac there held a prominent place. For him she became ambitious, for him she ceased to love repose; and in order to be sensible to this affection, she became too insensible to her own glory.... The declarations of the Prince de Marcillac, as I have already said, had not been displeasing to her; and this nobleman, who was perhaps more selfish than tender, wishing through her to promote his own interests, believed that he should inspire her with a desire of ruling the princes her brothers....”

Finally Retz, who was perfectly acquainted with all the actors and all the actresses of the Fronde, and who, in regard to this epoch, merits not to be believed without reserve, but to be listened to seriously, closes the most charming eulogy upon Madame de Longueville with these words, so often repeated, and which contain the true judgment of posterity: “As her passion obliged her to make politics only a secondary matter, from the heroine of a great party, she became its adventuress.”[326]

We must either renounce all historical criticism, or from these accumulated testimonies, which we could have much increased, we must draw this conclusion: 1, That before her connection with La Rochefoucauld, Madame de Longueville remained entirely unconcerned in every political intrigue; that she was occupied only with intellectual matters and gallantry, suffering herself to be guided absolutely in every thing else by her father and by her brother; 2, That it was not on her account, as has been often repeated, that La Rochefoucauld entered the Fronde; that, far from this, it was La Rochefoucauld, and La Rochefoucauld alone, who, little by little, engaged her in it, designedly and selfishly; 3, That the conduct of Madame de Longueville in the Fronde must be referred to La Rochefoucauld, who governed her, and that the only good thing in her is the character which she exhibited when the intrigue became a tempest, when it was necessary to risk her person; to stake her happiness, her repose, her fortune, and her life, retaining still under the hand of another what she could never lose—the pride of soul and brilliant energy of the sister of the great Condé.

It is not our business here to give a history of the Fronde, to make known its peripetics, its principal personages, the true springs of their actions, their apparent patriotism, their real ambition, their unstable hopes, their perpetual changes. We wish simply to describe Madame de Longueville; it is to her, without separating her from her brother Condé, that we would confine ourselves in this labyrinth of intrigues; here even we will show her only in the first scenes of the Fronde.

As soon as La Rochefoucauld had entered the heart of Madame de Longueville, he occupied it entirely. She employed in his service all the charms of her person, the resources of her mind, the greatness of her heart. Careless of her interests, and turning her back upon the fortunes of her house, she attacked openly, or undermined by artifice, that royalty which her family had supported, and which had been still more the support of her family. Forgetful of her most just resentment, even of her honor, she entered the ranks of those who, in 1643, had endeavored to blast in the bud her fresh and unsullied fame. The daughter of the Condés went over to the Vendômes and to the Lorraines, made common cause with Beaufort and with Madame de Chevreuse, and exposed herself to the risk of encountering in this new circle her old and implacable enemy, Madame de Montbazon. If Guise had not then been at Naples, she would doubtless have testified her perfect change by shaking the hand that had slain Coligny!

In the mean time La Rochefoucauld did not forget his reason for desiring so ardently the conquest of Madame de Longueville. He had wished, as he himself tells us, to reach the brother through the sister, and to draw into the Fronde the house of Condé, which had hitherto been a rampart to the queen and to Mazarin.

M. the Prince had died at the close of 1646, and with him his family had lost its political helm. Madame the Princess remained firmly attached to the queen; but Madame de Longueville succeeded, without much difficulty, in numbering among the malcontents the Prince de Conti, who, while waiting for a cardinal’s hat, was not sorry to make some noise, play some part, and acquire an importance which might make him compare favorably with his brother. She needed no great cunning to draw among the malcontents her husband, who was naturally inclined towards them. But the great difficulty was to win Condé himself.

The latter imagined that he had great cause of complaint against the cardinal. At the death of his brother-in-law, Brézé, in 1646, he asked to succeed him as High-Admiral of France. It was impossible to add this office to the number already possessed by the Condés; but, through management, the queen gave it to no one, and set it down for herself. M. the Prince, who was still living, ambitious and greedy, had warmly resented this refusal. The impetuous Condé had not concealed his anger. He was also much irritated at being sent into Catalonia to replace d’Harcourt, with the promise of every thing necessary to carry on a campaign worthy of him; and that he had been left, without the aid promised and earnestly claimed, between a strongly fortified place, which he could not take by assault on account of the condition of his troops, and a powerful army which he could neither wait for nor reach, so that he was obliged to raise the siege of Lerida, and to retreat in good order before the enemy. He felt that he had done well, but it was the first time that he had given way; in spite of him, his glory suffered by it, and he complained with bitterness of what he called the disloyalty of the cardinal. Finally, he was sent into Flanders to take command of a very feeble army,—not an army destitute of courage, but entirely undisciplined. Besides, it must be confessed, the true genius of Condé was for war. In this, again, he is the first of his age, and equal to the greatest in antiquity and in modern times,—as ardent as Alexander, as resolute as Cæsar, as fertile in expedients as Hannibal, as capable of making precise and vast calculations as Napoleon, which may be seen by the plan of the campaign by which, in 1645, he proposed to dictate peace to the Emperor in Vienna. He possessed all the qualifications of a warrior. He knew not only how to achieve a victory by the boldness of his manœuvres, but he knew how to calculate upon one, and, as Bossuet said of a very different person, he left nothing to fortune which he could accomplish through prudence and foresight. He was as good a military manager as he was an active and enterprising general. He excelled in the art of encamping and of besieging, as well as in that of fighting, and he surpassed Vauban. By turns, he exhibited that audacity which confounded Mercy at Fribourg and at Nortlingen, and that great prudence which led him to raise the siege of Lerida, and which at a later period, in 1675, wearied Montecuculli. With the most happy instincts, he united profound study. In Catalonia he marched with a copy of Cæsar in his hand, explaining it to his lieutenants. He formed the greatest generals, commencing with Turenne, who served under him during two campaigns, and finishing with that Luxembourg who, if he were rejudged, would perhaps be found not inferior to Turenne himself. Let us add this very striking fact: Condé is the only modern captain who never suffered defeat, and who was always victorious when he commanded in chief. Turenne was beaten twice in regular battle—at Rethel and at Mariendal; Frederic commenced with reverses; Napoleon terminated his dazzling career by two frightful routes—Leipsic and Waterloo; Condé alone was ever triumphant. He had arrayed against him the three greatest generals of Europe—Mercy, Montecuculli, and William; not one of them was able to deprive him of even the shadow of an advantage. We might easily extend, without exhausting it, the eulogy of the warrior in Condé; but, we acknowledge it, he had not the qualifications of a great politician, because at bottom he had no true determined ambition. First prince of the blood in a monarchy such as was that of France in the seventeenth century, what could he desire beyond the acquisition of glory? And after Richelieu and under Mazarin, this glory could be reached by him only on the battle-field. It was for this and for this alone that his father had reared him. He was also subjected, at an early age, to that severe discipline of ambition which teaches to speak at the proper moment and to be silent, to exhibit no humor, to keep the eye fixed upon the highest object, never suffering it to be turned aside by secondary interests, or by the caprices of the imagination or of the heart. Such is the ambitious man; such were, more or less, Henri IV., Richelieu, and Mazarin; for it is just to place Mazarin in this illustrious company. All three had a great end to attain, which they pursued with constancy. Condé had no aim; he formed no great design, being by birth as high as he could become—all that he could ever dream of being, unless he acted the madman or the traitor; and he had a mind perfectly correct, with a corresponding heart. His conscience and his good sense told him then that he had nothing to gain by all the intrigues in which others wished to engage him; that his place was near the throne, in order to protect it with his sword against its enemies, whoever they might be, whether at home or abroad. If he had kept this place, he would have attained to a rank much higher than even the usurpation of royalty. Let us not hesitate to look at it, that we may the better feel the greatness of his fall: to his five years of brilliant victories in Flanders and upon the Rhine, from 1643 to 1648, he might, beyond all doubt, have added, during the war which continued between France and Spain after the treaty of Westphalia, new victories, which, in two campaigns, at most, might have forever conquered Belgium, as the preceding had added Alsace to the French territory. He would then, at the age of thirty, have gained as many battles as Alexander, Hannibal, and Cæsar; and still there would have been before him twenty years of vigor, twenty other victories, like that of Senef, for example,[327] which he gained upon the verge of old age, before laying aside his sword, as a monument of what he might have done from 1648 to 1675. Incomparable would have been his destiny had he performed his part as first prince of the blood, firm defender of the crown yet loyal interpreter of the nation; bearing to the queen without frightening her, and to Mazarin, while sustaining him, the legitimate complaints of the nobility, of the parliament, and of the people.

There was, in fact, a cause for the Fronde; Mazarin, almost equal to Richelieu as a diplomatist, had not, in the smallest degree, the genius of his master for the administration of State affairs. Incessantly occupied with increasing the territory and strengthening the royal authority, he attended to little else, and suffered abuses and disorders to creep in everywhere. The great wars which he undertook, the four or five armies which he was obliged to support, had exhausted France, which did not always find in glory a consolation for its misery. It had been necessary to increase the taxes, even to sell the public offices, in order to have means for paying the troops. The authority of the parliament had often been eluded or disarmed. The blood of the nobility had flowed in torrents. The people groaned under the heaviest burdens; and if the sentiment of national grandeur abandoned them even for a moment, the greatness of the evil caused them to utter complaints, and drove them to revolt. I do not accuse the people: they are seldom wrong; they move only when they suffer; they agitate only to improve their condition, or at least to make it less unhappy. It is parties that are culpable, when, instead of striving to afford relief to the evils of the people, they apply themselves to rendering these evils more poignant and more bitter, by inflammatory declamations, thus driving the people beyond all bounds. I pity, in 1648, the people, naturally irritated by the increase of taxes, and by the disorders of the administration; I condemn the Fronde, which, in its chiefs, with few exceptions, was deceitful and corrupt, violent and mad; and I am in favor of Mazarin, without loving him or without being deceived in regard to his defects and his faults, because, after all, he served France well, conducting with great ability its affairs abroad, and diminishing, by the peace with Germany, its misery at home. I admire Condé in this first Fronde, for having resisted his own injuries, the antipathy which he felt for Mazarin, the solicitations of his own family, and of his sister. I shall blame him in the strongest terms when, unfaithful to his fortune and to his glory, sacrificing the part of a principal to that of an accessory, putting temper in the place of policy, he shall engage in the intrigues which he had spurned, and shall allow himself at first to humor, then to serve the Fronde.

He commenced very differently. In the beginning of the troubles, Condé, without having enough of the statesman to crush the sedition in its bud, preserved at least a lofty bearing towards the malcontents; he lent a careless ear to the proposals of his sister, and having no taste for popular agitations, and not more for the tumultuous and often ridiculous deliberations of the parliament, occupied only with the coalition of Spain and of the empire, he went, in the spring of 1648, to take command of the army of Flanders, resolved to strike a blow and to repeat the victory of Rocroy. Not being able to secure him, the malcontents wished at least to profit by his absence. While Mazarin, for the best interests of the country, was demanding its utmost resources, and turning every thing into money, in order to raise additional troops, the Frondeurs, that is, a few of the great lords, supported by a part of the nobility, aroused the people and the parliament, who had not the least idea of the true situation of affairs; for the parliament was not a political assembly, and the people were simply aware that they were suffering. Mazarin, entirely occupied with the peril of the frontier, did not give enough attention to domestic dangers. He had kept very few troops near him, and one fine morning it happened that the Frondeurs took possession of Paris. The battle of the barricades followed close upon that of Lens. On his return, Condé found royalty humiliated, the parliament triumphing and dictating laws to the crown, the Duke de Beaufort, with whom he once thought of measuring swords in defence of the honor of his sister, freed from his prison of Vincennes, and master of Paris by aid of the populace who idolized him; the fickle and vain Abbé de Retz transformed into a tribune of the people; the Prince de Conti into a captain; M. de Longueville under the guidance of his wife and La Rochefoucauld; and the feeble Duke d’Orleans fancying himself almost a king, because he saw the queen humiliated, and because the Frondeurs, cunningly flattering his self-love, were treating him like a sovereign. Condé, at a glance, saw the situation of affairs and his duty also; and, without any hesitation, he offered his sword to the queen.

He had a stormy explanation with his sister.

It is pretended, that for some time their reciprocal tenderness had suffered more than one interruption; that, in 1645, Madame de Longueville had crossed the loves of her brother and Mademoiselle Du Vigean; that, in 1646, Condé, seeing her too intimate with La Rochefoucauld, had caused her to be called to Munster by her husband: but for this we have only the authority of the Duchess de Nemours,[328] and nothing is less probable. The passion of Condé for Mademoiselle Du Vigean extinguished itself, as we have seen, and as all contemporaries affirm. The attentions of La Rochefoucauld to Madame de Longueville may have preceded the embassy of Munster, but they were not observed until 1647, and it is at the close of this year that Madame de Motteville places them, while attributing them especially to the desire of La Rochefoucauld to share the credit of the sister with the brother. But it is very certain, that as soon as the latter remarked this connection, he disapproved of it entirely; and not succeeding in his effort to rouse his sister from the intoxication of a first love, he passed from the most ardent affection to a bitter discontent. In the autumn of 1648, on his return from Lens, this connection had acquired its greatest strength, and become almost notorious. Madame de Longueville, directed by La Rochefoucauld, did then every thing in the world to gain her brother: she brought to bear upon him all her allurements, all her fondlings; she put into operation every thing which she thought might influence this passionate and fickle heart; she failed. He did not succeed in gaining over her his accustomed ascendency. They quarrelled and separated openly. Madame de Longueville plunged more deeply into the Fronde, and Condé applied himself to giving the new _Importants_ a harsh lesson.

It is not my intention to enter into details. I wish simply to show that the brother and sister, in their opposite conduct, exhibited the same blood and the same audacity.

The queen had retired to Saint-Germain with the young king and all the government. Paris was under the absolute control of the Fronde. In spite of the first president, Molé, the l’Hôpital of the seventeenth century, it stirred up the parliament, by the aid of a few ambitious councillors and by seditious and mischievous inquests. It disposed of a great part of the Parisian clergy, through the coadjutor of the archbishop, Retz, who possessed and exercised all the authority of his uncle. It had continually at its head the two great houses of Vendôme and Lorraine, with two princes of the blood, the Prince de Conti and the Duke de Longueville, followed by a very great number of illustrious families. It gave law in the _salons_, thanks to a brilliant troupe of pretty women, who drew after them the flower of the young nobility. In short, the army itself was divided. Turenne, with his troops, who were stationed upon the borders of the Rhine until the perfect conclusion of the treaty of Westphalia, obedient to the suggestions of his eldest brother, the Duke de Bouillon, who wished to gain his principality of Sedan, had just raised the standard of revolt, and was threatening to place the court between his own army and that of Paris. Add that the parliament of the capital had sent deputies to all the parliaments of the kingdom, and that it was thus forming a sort of formidable parliamentary league in the face of monarchy. Condé took command of all the troops that remained faithful, and everywhere opposed the insurrection. He wrote himself to the army of the Rhine, which knew him, and which, after the route sustained by Turenne at Mariendal, had been led back by him to victory: these letters, supported by the proceedings of the government, succeeded in arresting the revolt; and Turenne, abandoned by his own soldiers, was obliged to fly to Holland.[329] At ease upon this subject, Condé marched upon Paris, and placed it in siege. Instead of disputing the ground, as he might have done, foot by foot, with the sedition, he allowed it the freest course, sure that the spectacle of licentiousness, which could not fail to appear, would, little by little, restore to loyalty those who had for a moment gone astray. He began by calling, in the name of the queen and through his mother, all his family to Saint-Germain. The Prince de Conti and M. de Longueville did not dare to disobey; but La Rochefoucauld saw that the Fronde was in the greatest peril; he hastened after these two princes; he brought them back to Paris, made the Prince de Conti generalissimo, placing under him the Dukes d’Elbeuf and de Bouillon, who shared authority with the Marshal de La Mothe Houdancourt, governor of Paris.[330] As to Madame de Longueville, she excused herself to the queen and to her mother on the grounds of her delicate situation, which would not permit her to undertake the least fatigue. In fact, Madame de Longueville was in this condition, for the last time, in 1648, when, it must be confessed, her connection with La Rochefoucauld was well known. It was in this condition that, willing to share the perils of her friends, proud also of playing a part and of filling all the trumpets of fame, she acted the warrior as well as she was able. There is, it is said,[331] a portrait representing her as Pallas, just as, a little later, Mademoiselle was represented; her light hair covered with a helmet, and her soft eyes trying to wear a martial look. It is at least certain that she shared all the fatigues of the siege, that she was present at the reviews of the troops, at the parades of the citizen soldiery,[332] and that all the civil and military plans were discussed before her. The memoirs of the times are full, in regard to this, of the most curious details. The hôtel de Longueville was continually filled with officers and generals; nothing was seen there but plumes, helmets, and swords.

Notwithstanding all this, the democratic spirit which had originated the Fronde, was not satisfied: it beheld with displeasure all the forces of Paris in the hands of the brother, of the brother-in-law, and of the sister of him who commanded the siege. Believing very little, and with reason, in the patriotism of the princes, the citizens demanded some sureties from the chiefs who might at any time betray them, and make peace, at their expense, with Saint-Germain. No one seemed to know how to appease this multitude, without which nothing could be done. It was then that Madame de Longueville showed that, if she had forgotten her true duties, she had retained the energy of her race and the intrepidity of the Condés. She took her young children, and, notwithstanding her delicate condition, proceeded to the principal quarter of the insurrection, the hôtel de Ville, placing herself in the hands of the people as a hostage, with all that was most dear to her.[333] Her example was followed by the Duchess de Bouillon.[334] “Imagine,” says Retz, “these two beautiful persons upon the balcony of the hôtel de Ville; more beautiful because they appeared neglected, although they were not. Each held in her arms one of her children, who were as beautiful as their mothers. La Grève was full of people, even to the housetops; the men all raised cries of joy, and the women wept with tenderness.”[335] There, on the night of the 28th of January, 1649, Madame de Longueville gave birth to her last child, a son, who was baptized by Retz in the church Saint-Jean-de Grève, having for its godfather the Provost, for its godmother the Duchess de Bouillon, and who received the name of Charles de Paris;[336] the child of the Fronde, handsome, talented, and brave, who during his life was the troublesome hope, the melancholy joy of his mother, and the cause of her greatest grief in 1672, when he perished, in the passage of the Rhine, by the side of his uncle.[337]

For some time, Condé limited himself to subjecting Paris to a blockade more and more rigorous, and to small attacks, the effect of which was not very encouraging to the citizen troops. The gentry alone, even during their negotiations with Mazarin, fought well. They carried on the war in two modes, by the sword and by epigrams, songs and vaudevilles. The party of Mazarin, as may be conceived, accomplished very little with Madame de Longueville.[338] Condé himself, who had loved her so much, and who, afterwards, will resume for her all his early tenderness, did not hesitate to ridicule her with the accustomed license of his language. He diverted himself very much at the expense of the martial spirit of his brother, the Prince de Conti, and he lampooned his adversaries, among others the Count de Maure,[339] the youngest of the Montemarts, with so much spirit and in such a soldierlike way, that he abused the troops and the citizens, when they dared to venture a few steps from the ramparts of Paris. To enable one to judge of the Fronde, even in this first period of its short, yet too long history, it will be sufficient to say that it had from that moment recourse to the only remaining enemy of France; that these great patriots, who continually reproached Mazarin with being a stranger, applied to Spain, and that an envoy of the archduke and of the Count de Fuensaldaigne was received, and heard in full parliament. Is it astonishing, after this, that in the course of a few years, the young Louis XIV. should, without attracting attention, enter this same parliament equipped for a ride and with whip in hand! Demagoguery produces necessarily tyranny, and, what is more sad, it therewith produces universal applause, bruising the hearts of those alone who had not merited it, and had simply desired a moderate liberty. When the shameful proposition was made to receive the Spanish envoy, the President de Mesmes, turning towards the Prince de Conti, addressed to him these severe words:[340] “Is it possible, sir, that a prince of the blood of France proposes to give audience upon the _fleurs de lys_ to a deputy of the most cruel enemy of the _fleurs de lys_!”

Condé thought that it was time to bring matters to a close. He rendered more rigorous the blockade, and multiplied the attacks. It was in one of these attacks, at Charenton, February 9, 1649, that he lost his best friend, the younger Coligny, the brave d’Andelot, then Duke de Châtillon, the husband of Isabelle de Montmorency, one of the heroes of Lens, where he served in the capacity of a lieutenant-general, from which office he was about to be elevated to that of marshal; he was, it is true, somewhat easy in his life and manners, but he promised to make for France a captain of the strength of his brother-in-law, Montmorency Boutteville, Marshal de Luxembourg. Condé flew to the spot where Châtillon had just fallen, received him in his arms, and, bathing him with tears, caused him to be transported to Vincennes, where he drew his last breath.[341] All historians agree in their descriptions of the great grief into which Condé was thrown by this death; it animated him still more against the Fronde. At the same time, it showed the court the importance of terminating a war which was sweeping so many brave men from both sides, to the great joy of Spain; and by showing in this place the point of his sword, and by speaking with firmness in that, he soon brought Paris and the parliament to ask peace, and Mazarin to give one which was humiliating to neither. He did not simply obtain a general amnesty; he did more: he represented that, in order to disarm the Fronde, it was necessary to listen to its legitimate complaints, which constituted its strength; and that royalty once replaced above all factions, it was wise to make it the origin of all necessary ameliorations. Hence the royal declaration of the 12th of March, 1649,[342] which annulled all the measures taken by the parliament during the preceding six months, which expelled the envoy of Spain, placed all the civil and military forces in the hands of the king, interdicted, during the remainder of the year 1649, every general assembly of the parliament, but which promised that Paris should see the return of the king, that the parliament should henceforth consult him in regard to extraordinary imposts, and that, if a treaty was made with Spain, the parliament should choose one of its officers to assist in its formation. The declaration said nothing in regard to the nobility, for the very simple reason that there was among them no general cause to be satisfied, and that private interests alone demanded attention.

It is amusing to read, in Madame de Motteville,[343] a piece entitled: “_Particular demands of Messieurs the Generals and others interested_. They each had, at Saint-Germain, deputies who treated for them. For example, the Duke de Beaufort was not contented with what had been privately offered to him. He asked much, because his heart was still swollen by the pride occasioned by the remembrance of his past favor. He wished the ministry to reward him for his chains and his imprisonment; he spoke proudly; he declared loudly that he would not make terms with Mazarin; and, carrying his resentment farther than others, he rendered the adjustment of his affairs more difficult.... Madame de Montbazon, who was beloved by the Duke de Beaufort, gave hopes that she would at least please him, if she could have what she desired. She obtained moneys and abbeys; and the Duke de Beaufort, who loved her, was pleased that this lady could profit by the inclination which he had for her.”

In short, every one was, or strove to be contented. The Prince de Conti was the first who left Paris to salute the queen. He was presented by Condé, who made him embrace the Cardinal Mazarin. The Prince de Conti, in his turn, presented the Duke de Bouillon, La Rochefoucauld, the Count de Maure, and many others. M. de Longueville, who had gone to Normandy to arouse that province and its parliament, did not delay to return to offer his homage, and it was quite time for the beautiful and proud duchess to show her submission. The scene is worth relating: “I was alone,”[344] says Madame de Motteville, “with the queen, and she did me the honor to speak to me of the embarrassment testified by the Duke de Longueville in saluting her. As I knew that Madame de Longueville was about to enter, I arose, for I was on my knees beside her bed, and placed myself near to the queen, resolved not to stir, but to discover whether this witty princess would be more eloquent than the prince her husband. As she was naturally timid and apt to blush, all her care could not save her from the embarrassment which she experienced on meeting the queen. I was sufficiently near to these two illustrious persons to know what they said; but I heard nothing except _Madame_, and a few words which she pronounced so low that the queen, who listened attentively to what she would say, could not comprehend a single sentence.”

This same Madame de Motteville, so veracious notwithstanding her benevolence, so difficult in every thing concerning the queen, her mistress, does not hesitate to give to Condé the honor of the peace: “We should not forget to observe here the disinterested firmness of M. the Prince, who, without considering either his family or his friends, acted always for the interests of the king.”[345]

It is true, for the memorable service which he had just rendered, Condé reaped scarcely any benefit; but his noble conduct increased the splendor of his last campaign of 1648; it added to his military titles those of defender and saviour of the throne, of pacificator of the kingdom, of arbiter and enlightened conciliator of parties; it gave the climax to his credit and to his glory. Happy would it have been, if, after having thus terminated this sad war, he had quitted the court and its intrigues, to seek other battle-fields, and to finish another war somewhat more useful and more glorious to France—that which still remained with Spain! Happy also had been Madame de Longueville, if, taught by her own conscience, in her last interview with the queen, and by the shameful dénouement of the miserable intrigues of which she had the secret, instead of still serving as their instrument, she had shown her courage in resisting them; if, after all the proofs of devotion which she had just given to La Rochefoucauld, she had strongly represented to him that, even for his own interest, a different course was necessary; that it would be better to look for fortune and honors by making himself esteemed, than by trying to be feared; that ambition as well as duty showed his place to be by the side of Condé, in the service of the State and of the king; that it was easy for him to obtain in the army some post, where he would have simply to march forward, trusting to his courage and his merit! But even if she had been wise enough to speak thus to La Rochefoucauld, she would not have succeeded in gaining his ear. This restless spirit, this ever-discontented vanity, pursuing by turns the most dissimilar objects, because it selected none within its reach, this _indefinable something_, as Retz[346] says, which was in La Rochefoucauld, caused him to abandon the great and straight roads, and led him into by-paths full of precipices. The poor woman there follows him, and aids him in his extravagant and guilty designs. Receiving the law instead of giving it, she strives to promote the passion of another by devoting to his service all her coquetry and greatness of soul, her penetration and intrepidity, her attractive sweetness and indomitable energy. She undertakes to mislead Condé, to take away from France the conqueror of Rocroy and of Lens, and to give him to Spain. But let us not anticipate these unhappy times. We have now traced the last glorious days of Condé and the first faults of Madame de Longueville. Let us stop here; let us not enter upon the civil wars about to follow, impious wars, in which the brother and the sister will treasure up long remorse, in which the one will signalize himself by exploits so deplorable, that he will some day veil himself at Chantilly, for the sake of his own glory and of France, and in which the other will display the most brilliant qualities of mind, only to weep for twenty-five years among the Carmelites and at Port-Royal!

THE END.

FOOTNOTES

[1] Fourth Series of our works, _Literature_, vol. ii.

[2] It remains for us to collect from all our writings the scattered elements of a new Theodicea, especially founded upon an exact Psychology, fecundated by a legitimate induction, with the double purpose of defending the great faith of the human race against the detestable philosophy which Germany, in these last times, has sent into France, after having borrowed it from her, and of defending also true and good philosophy against a pusillanimous devotion, unworthy of Christianity, and condemned by the Church, which refuses to human reason the right and the power of elevating itself, even to God. It especially remains to us to put the last hand to that translation of Plato, which we would make the least perishable monument of our philosophic enterprise.

[3] See the work of Villefore: _The Life of Madame the Duchess de Longueville_, in two parts. There are two somewhat different editions. The first, which we shall quote, is of 1738, without indication of place; the second of Amsterdam, 1739.

[4] Quatremère de Quincy: _Dissertation upon the Antique Statue of Venus, discovered in the Island of Milo_, in-4ᵒ; and _Collection of Archeological Dissertations_, 1836, in-8ᵒ, p. 143.

[5] Millengen: _Ancient Unedited Monuments_, in fol.: London, 1826, p. 15, plate viii.

[6] The only two good and complete editions are those of Renouard, 1804 and 1817, and that of the collection of Petitot. See this last vol. 51, p. 455.

[7] This disease attacked her during the year of her marriage. Scarcely any trace of it remained.

[8] Retz, Amsterdam, 1731, vol. i., p. 185. Ibid., vol. iv., p. 219.

[9] _Memoirs_, Amsterdam, 1750, vol. i., p. 44.

[10] Vol. ii., p. 16-17.

[11] _Memoirs_, Amsterdam, 1735, vol. i., p. 45.

[12] Library of the Arsenal, Manuscripts of Conrart, in fol., vol. viii., p. 145. On Mademoiselle de Vaudy, the relative and friend of Madame the Countess de Maure, see Mademoiselle, vol. iii., p. 58, and vol. v., p. 25, as well as her portrait among the portraits of Mademoiselle. See also Tallemant, vol. ii., p. 334.

[13] In an obscure work, entitled, _The Life of Pierre Dubose, Minister of the Holy Gospel, enriched with Letters, Harangues_, etc., Rotterdam, 1698, in-8ᵒ, I find a speech made to Madame de Longueville, at Caen, in June, 1648, in which the good Protestant minister speaks of her very much like Scudéry, p. 328: “The portrait, Madame, which fame has made of you, is known throughout the world; and it is so full of marvels that every one supposes the original to be flattered until he has the happiness of seeing you. Then all admit that what the public voice says of your Highness is but a pencil-sketch of what you are.... It is impossible to paint too well that agreeable mixture of sweetness and majesty which tempers your countenance, and which at once gives boldness and fear to those who have the honor to approach your person. It is impossible to express that inimitable address which appears in all your actions, that brilliant vivacity so admired in your words, that graceful and grand air which causes your silence to be respected. And what pencil can represent that mind, formed by the hand of the Graces and cultivated by that of the Muses, which produces nothing in you but that is judicious, delicate, brilliant, which gains for you the admiration of the age, the rapture of the court, the applause of the provinces, which has even merited the homage of enemies at Munster, bringing them to your feet, while they refused peace to all Europe.”

[14] Attique du Nord, No. 2173.

[15] _Pacificatores orbis Christiani, sive icones principum, ducum et legatorum qui Monasterii atque Osnabrugæ pacem Europæ reconciliarunt, quosque singulos ad nativam imaginem expressit Van Hull, celissimi principis Auriaci dum viveret pictor_, in folio, Rotterodami, 1697. This portrait has been often reproduced, among others, in the _Europe illustre_ and the Collection of Odieuvre.

[16] This is, in fact, the date of the first edition of the first part, as given in the patent, printed January 7, 1649.

[17] Gallery of the first floor, No. 2195.

[18] Cabinet of Medallions, with this inscription: AN. GEN. BORBONIA, D. LONG, S. P. NOVI CASTRI. On the other side of the medal is the portrait of her husband.

[19] There should be at the Château d’Eu a portrait of Madame de Longueville, 22 inches by 18, which comes from the old collection of the Duchess de Montpensier. See vol. ii., p. 124, the work of M. Vatout, entitled, _Historical and Descriptive Catalogue of the Pictures belonging to his Royal Highness the Duke of Orleans_. 4 vols., in-8ᵒ, 1823. It is so long since we have seen this portrait, that we cannot say at what period it represents Madame de Longueville, wherein it differs from or resembles other portraits of her, or by what hand it was produced. It is perhaps the portrait which is at Versailles. Father Lelong mentions the following portraits of Madame de Longueville: 1, Van Hull; 2, Poilly, in fol. (We have not found this portrait in the work of Poilly in the Stamp-Office. See note, p. 363.) 3, Frosne; 4, Moncornet; 5, the collection of Odieuvre.

[20] Villefore, 2d part, p. 170.

[21] Retz, vol. i., p. 219.

[22] Ibid., vol. iii., p. 59.

[23] Retz, vol. ii., p. 18.

[24] In-12ᵒ. We possess the copy of the dedication which belonged to Mademoiselle de Bourbon, and which bears her arms.

[25] Villefore, p. 75.

[26] Vol. ii., p. 19.

[27] Ibid., p. 7.

[28] Boileau, in his letter to Perrault, places the Count de Tréville among the nicest judges of wit. Saint-Simon undertakes to paint him, vol. iv., p. 184, and thus finishes his portrait, vol. vi., p. 372: He had belonged “to the great world, at one time a courtier, then a devotee and recluse, again, by degrees, an active member of the best society, always gallant, full of wit, and of the most refined taste.” He had loved Madame, the amiable Henriette, and the beautiful de Ludre. See the _Memoirs_ of Lafare and Madame de Sévigné, letter of the 13th March, 1671. It is said that the observation, _he talks like a book_, was first made concerning him. He is the _Arsène_ of the _charactères_ of La Bruyère. I have seen some of his unpublished letters; the language is the best, but for any thing else they are not remarkable.

[29] IVth Series of our works, LITTÉRATURE, vol. ii., _Jacqueline Pascal_, p. 20.

[30] _Memoirs_, vol. i., p. 221: “I do not believe that Queen Elizabeth of England had more capacity for State affairs.”

[31] _Oraison funèbre de la Princesse Palatine._

[32] Ægidii Menagii Pœmata, since the first edition, which is of 1652, in-4ᵒ, Ægidii Menagii Miscellanea, until the Elzeverian edition, more complete, of 1663. In this there are more than twenty French, Latin, and Italian pieces to Madame de La Fayette before and after her marriage. Madame de Sévigné does not appear so often; but, as an offset, she is seen in the edition of 1652, both under her own name and under that of Uranie. The study of the different editions of the poems of Ménage would not be useless in a history of Madame de Sévigné and of Madame de La Fayette.

[33] See the Italian Sonnet of Madame de Sévigné, published by M. de Montmerqué.

[34] This correspondence was sold at Sens, in 1849, at the sale of M. Tarbé. I examined it for several hours. It is composed of about seventy-six letters, all unpublished, and runs over almost all the life of Madame de La Fayette. We here find that Ménage felt a passion for his beautiful pupils. Repulsed and discouraged rather quickly by Marie de Chantil, he turned to her relative, Mademoiselle de Lavergne, with no better fortune, but without experiencing so much neglect. The intercourse of Ménage with Mademoiselle de Lavergne continued even after her marriage to the Count de La Fayette, became more intimate during her widowhood, and continued even until her death. Madame de La Fayette coquetted evidently with her Latin and Italian master, and for some time their relations were intimate but not tender. Finally, they became good and perfect friends. Several letters show with what care Madame de La Fayette had studied under Ménage the poets and good writers, both ancient and modern. She consults him, and refers to their disputes in regard to the use of such and such an expression. She speaks continually of their common friend, Huet, who wrote for _Zaïdé_ a dissertation on the origin of the romance. There are a few lines about Segrais. I do not remember seeing the name of La Rochefoucauld once mentioned. This was perhaps a delicate subject, upon which the beautiful lady did not consult her learned friends. What existed between the duke and the countess did not concern the Abbé Huet and the Abbé Ménage. It was only to the Marchioness de Sévigné, or to the Marchioness de Sablé, that she would speak on such a matter. Besides, in this collection, we have only the letters or rather notes of Madame de La Fayette; not one of Ménage. Most of them are autographs, some dictated and signed, all perfectly authentic. M. Tarbé made a copy of this correspondence, which was sold with the autographs. It belongs now to M. Feuillet.

[35] See the dissertation of Madame de Grignan on the _Pure Love_ of Fénelon, in vol. x. of the works of Madame de Sévigné, p. 518, edition Montmerqué.

[36] We shall often return in this work, for example, 1st Part, chap. ii., to this difference between the literature of Louis XIII. and that of Louis XIV. We have elsewhere said, Fourth Series, vol. ii., of the illustrious women of the seventeenth century, p. 13: “Let us go on and examine the age of Louis XIV. An end has come to the manly vigor of the times of Richelieu; the freedom of the Fronde has ceased; Louis XIV. has made politeness and dignity, tempered by good taste, the order of the day. Fortunate are the minds which have been formed in the strength and liberty of the preceding age, which receive the polish of the new epoch! This was the privilege of Madame de Sévigné, as well as of Molière and of Bossuet.”

[37] Part i., chap. iii.

[38] Ibid., chap. iv.

[39] No one has been duped by the disavowal which he made, for political purposes, of the passages of these memoirs which concern Condé and his sister; for they are the very ones which most betray his hand. They shocked the public conscience, whose interpreter is Madame de Motteville, vol. v., pp. 114, 115, and 132.

[40] See Part iii.

[41] _Mémoires_, edit. of Amsterdam, 1733, p. 12.

[42] _Mémoires_, vol. ii., p. 15.

[43] _Mémoires de Guy-Joly_, collection Michaud, 3d Series, vol. ii., p. 15.

[44] Petitot, vol. li., p. 896.

[45] Ibid., p. 398, 399.

[46] Petitot, vol. li., pp. 898, 899.

[47] Petitot, vol. li., p. 899, etc.

[48] Petitot, vol. li., p. 462.

[49] Ibid., p. 401.

[50] Petitot, vol. lii., p. 9.

[51] Vol. iii., p. 295.

[52] Ibid., p. 393.

[53] _Mémoires_, p. 47.

[54] Mémoires de La Rochefoucauld, Petitot, vol. lii., p. 24.

[55] Mémoires de La Rochefouc., Petitot, vol.lii., p. 72.

[56] Ibid., p. 71.

[57] Mémoires de La Rochefoucauld, Petitot, vol. lii., pp. 79, 80.

[58] See Part ii.

[59] _Mémoires de Madame de Nemours_, p. 150.

[60] La Rochefoucauld, p. 198 of the edition of 1664: “The Prince de Condé was warned of the design which she had to ruin his party, by very extraordinary means, for the interest of Nemours, and feared, that similarly prejudiced in behalf of another, she might go to the same extremities if this one should so desire it.” _Was warned_, and by whom, if not by La Rochefoucauld, who then enjoyed the entire confidence of Condé? La Rochefoucauld perceived so plainly the odiousness of this passage, that he afterwards modified and softened it, as may be seen in the editions of Renouard and Petitot.

[61] Vol. v., pp. 114, 115.

[62] Madame de Sévigné doubts it very much. Letter of October 7, 1676: “I do not believe that he was ever in love.” He says himself in making his own portrait: “I who know whatever is delicate and strong in the sentiments of love, if ever I happen to love, it will certainly be in this manner. But in one of my make, I do not believe that this knowledge which I possess ever passes from the mind to the heart.” Segrais, (Mémoires, Anecdotes, edit. d’Amsterdam, 1723, p. 113): “M. de la Rochefoucauld said that he had never found love except in romances; as for him, he had never felt it.”

[63] Vol. v., p. 132.

[64] Edit. of 1664, pp. 229-282; Petitot, pp. 156-158.

[65] _Mémoires_, vol. ii., p. 129.

[66] Some time ago I expressed the same opinion in regard to La Rochefoucauld, and, as may be seen, I still hold it. See 1st series of my works, vol. iv., p. 200; 4th series, vol. i., p. 51, and vol. ii., p. 8.

[67] Mémoires, Anecdotes, p. 31.

[68] Vol. i., p. 217.

[69] On the Fronde and its general causes, see Part i., chap. 4.

[70] See thereon a curious passage of Madame de Motteville, vol. iv., p. 359, etc.

[71] We borrow the translation that Villefore has given of this part of the Italian narrative of the cardinal, Part 1st, p. 22.

[72] Part 1st, p. 44.

[73] See, in the Library of the Arsenal, Manuscripts of Conrart, in-4ᵒ, vol. xvi., p. 642, an unpublished letter of Henri de Bourbon to his mother, upon the assassination of Henri IV., which proves how absurd it is to accuse him of having been concerned in that assassination. The same volume contains different writings of the same prince against Marshal d’Ancre.

[74] We find in regard to all this, new and curious details in a _Journal historique et anecdote de la cour et de Paris_, t. xi., in-4ᵒ, manuscripts of Conrart. This unpublished journal commences January 1, 1614, and goes to January 1, 1620.

M. the Prince was arrested September 1, 1616, by order of Marshal d’Ancre, favorite of the queen regent, Marie de Médicis.

“September 11. Madame the young Princess arrives very much afflicted. It is said that M. de Montmorency was not pleased that the queen was unwilling to permit her to see M. le Prince.

“May 19, 1617. M. le Prince petitions the king to do a charitable deed by delivering to him his wife, that she might remain a prisoner with him.

“May 26, 1617. Madame the Princess de Condé goes to salute the king and supplicate him to let her enter as a prisoner in the Bastile with M. the Prince. The king grants it to her, and permits her to take with her only one damsel. Upon which her _petit nain_, having supplicated the king to be pleased that he should not abandon his mistress, his majesty also permitted him. The same day, after dinner, Madame the Princess entered the Bastile, where she was received by M. the Prince with all the testimonies of friendship that can be imagined; and he gave her no repose until she had said to him that she pardoned him.” In this same journal, there has often been a question of the bad conduct of the prince towards his wife, in regard to which there is not one word of blame.

“August 31, 1617. The undertaking to save the prince from the Bastile discovered.

“September 15, 1617. M. the Prince taken from the Bastile to the wood of Vincennes.... A long time before he had asked that he might be placed there in order to have better air. M. de Modène said to him that, mindful of that, he had pressed the king so much upon the subject, that at last he had obtained it. M. the Prince responded that in the mean time he had become accustomed to the air of the Bastile; and thereupon resisted all that he could, until it was necessary to go. Madame the Princess also went with him in a coach, having been unwilling to enter a litter. It is said that in the beginning M. the Prince only thought it was desired to deprive him of his wife. M. de Vitry, M. de Persan, M. de Modène, were with him in the coach. After his arrival at the wood of Vincennes, it was permitted him, about the beginning of October, to walk upon the top of a thick wall, which is in the form of a gallery. M. de Persan dwelt in the tower of the wood of Vincennes, in order to guard the prince with the greatest part of the soldiers that he had with him in the Bastile, and M. de Cadenet (afterwards Duke and Marshal de Chaulnes, brother of Constable de Luynes), with a dozen companies of the regiment of Normandy, kept guard in the court of the château, which the soldiers are not permitted to leave.

“About December 20, 1617. Madame the Princess very sick. She is put to bed in the wood of Vincennes, at seven months, of a still-born child, and was more than forty-eight hours without motion or feeling. Never was a person in greater extremity without dying. Among other physicians, M. Duret and M. Pietre assisted her with extreme care. When M. the Prince desired that there should be obsequies for this little infant, M. the Bishop of Paris assembled some theologians, who judged that, since, not having received baptism, it had not entered into the Church, no ceremonies ought to be used on the subject of its death.

“September 5, 1618. Madame the Princess is put to bed of two dead boys. The king shows great displeasure thereupon. Several persons had permission to go to see her.

“March 21, 1619. M. the Prince falls sick. Tuesday, April 2. MM. Hatin, Duret, and Seguin came to the Louvre to represent the state of the malady. The cause was attributed to profound melancholy. For several days he was regarded as hopeless. Madame his mother, Madame the Countess, Madame de Ventadour, Madame the Countess d’Auvergne, Madame de la Trémouille, Madame de Fontaines, Madame la Grande, etc., were allowed to go and visit him. Monday, April 8, the king sent to him his sword by M. de Cadenet, and wrote to him: ‘My cousin, I am very much grieved at your illness. I pray you to be comforted. As soon as I shall have set in order my affairs, I will give you your liberty. Be rejoiced then, and have the assurance of my friendship. I am, etc.’

“August 28, 1619. Between midnight and one o’clock, Madame the Princess was put to bed of a daughter, in the wood of Vincennes.

“October 17, 1619. Council held, in which is taken the final resolution of releasing M. the Prince.

“October 18. The king goes to Chantilly, to await there M. the Prince.

“19th. M. de Luynes goes to find M. the Prince at the wood of Vincennes.

“20th. M. de Luynes goes early in the morning to the wood of Vincennes, and gets into a carriage with M. the Prince and Madame the Princess, in which were also MM. de Cadenet and de Modène. He goes to Chantilly to find the king, and sees him in a cabinet, where, it is said, he falls upon his knees, and makes extreme protestations of fidelity, and feeling of obligation, which he had for him.

“22d. The king returns to Compiègne, accompanied by M. the Prince. Madame the Princess arrived there and saw the queen the same day.”

In the xvi. vol. of the same manuscript, p. 933, a French diplomatic agent transmits the reports spread abroad in the Low Countries, on the subject of the Prince and Princess de Condé, prisoners at the Bastile or in Vincennes: “The Princess de Condé, the younger, has written from there to her own _femme de chambre_ married in that city, that M. the Prince de Condé was under the impression that he had been poisoned by his head-cook, named Baucheron, who had practiced and received money for that purpose, and had escaped; and because he might take refuge in that country, she charges her to inform the Prince and Princess of Orange, in order to arrest him if possible. The people of the so-called Prince of Orange also say, that M. the Prince de Condé has thought of escaping, and has been betrayed and discovered by one of his domestics, but that he has still other means for regaining his liberty.”

[75] _Mémoires de Lenet_, collection of Michaud, 3d series, v. ii., p. 448.

[76] _Mémoires de Lenet_, Michaud, 3d series, vol. ii., p. 458.

[77] _Mémoires de Lenet_, Michaud, 3d series, vol. ii., p. 455.

[78] His eldest brother, who, having taken his title after his death, was also distinguished for his beauty, his bravery, his gallantry, played an important part in the life of Madame de Longueville, and perished in a senseless duel with the Duke de Beaufort, his brother-in-law.

[79] Paris, 1800, in-8ᵒ.

[80] There is a constant demand for a collection of the cartularies of the old abbeys. Why will not some friend of religion and letters occupy himself with filling up the lacunes, so much to be regretted, of the _Gallia christiana_, by bringing together, under the name of the Cartulary of the convent of the Carmelites of the Faubourg Saint-Jacques, a multitude of pieces which we have held in our hands, which would establish, upon authentic monuments, the history of that interesting congregation, from the first years of the seventeenth century to the French Revolution? All the notes, extracts, and copies, that we have amassed, belong to him who will undertake to enrich with a new volume of this kind the _Collection des documents inédits relatifs à l’histoire de France_.

[81] For example, Guido, Champagne, and Lebrun.

[82] Among others, a statue, in white marble, representing the Cardinal de Bérulle on his knees. This beautiful work is by Jacques Sarrazin, and is still to be seen in the chapel of the Carmelites.

[83] General Archives, demesnial section, 1st file, letter C: “Letters-patent of King Henry IV. for the establishment of the order of the nuns of Nôtre-Dame of Mount Carmel, verified in parliament October 1, 1602, at the very humble petition of our dear well-beloved cousin, Demoiselle de Longueville.” And in other pieces it is also said: “The said lord (King Henry), favorably disposed to the petition of Catherine d’Orleans, daughter of the late Henri d’Orleans, Duke de Longueville and de Touteville....”

[84] Since that time the convent of the Rue Saint-Jacques has been called the Great Convent, to distinguish it from the house in the Rue Chapon.

[85] The act of donation which is in the General Archives, was made in the name of the duchess dowager de Longueville, as well as in the name of her son, the future husband of Anne de Bourbon. “Madame Catherine de Gonzagues and de Clèves, Duchess de Longueville and de Touteville, widow of the late very powerful prince Henri d’Orleans, during his life, Duke de Longueville and de Touteville, sovereign Count of Neufchâtel and Valengin, in Switzerland, also Count of Dunois and Tancarville, etc., dwelling at Paris, in his hôtel de Longueville, Rue des Poulies, parish of Saint-Germain de l’Auxerrois, as well in his own name as in that of Monseigneur Henri d’Orleans, his son, also Duke de Longueville and de Touteville.” ... Catherine de Gonzagues and Clèves was sister of Charles de Gonzagues, Duke de Nevers, the father of Marie and Anne de Gonzagues, the queen of Poland and the Palatine. Her son, Henry II., exercised himself much in playing at tennis, and one of his shoulders became larger and more elevated than the other. All the skill of the physicians was powerless. The desolate mother addressed herself to Madame Acarie, then sister Marie de l’Incarnation. She engaged in prayer previous to the holy sacrament, and the next day the form of the youth was very much improved. Through gratitude, the mother and son founded the house of the Rue Chapon, endowed it with ten thousand crowns in silver, and two thousand livres a year. The Duke de Longueville testified to this fact before the Apostolic Commissioners, charged with the beatification of Madame Acarie. Catherine de Gonzagues died in 1629. We find in the Archives different acts which prove that the niece of Richelieu, Madame the Duchess d’Aiguillon, was also one of the benefactresses of both convents. “Marie Vignerot, Duchess d’Esguillon, dwelling in her hôtel, situated in Saint-Germain-des-Prés, parish of Saint-Sulpice.”...

[86] See Gomboust’s plan of Paris, in 1652, and the plan called Turgot’s, of Paris, in 1740.

[87] See Malingre, _Antiquités de la Ville de Paris_, in-fol., Paris, 1640, pp. 152 and 153, also pp. 501 and 503, _Nouveaux Mémoires concernant la maison des Carmélites_; a few lines in the _Histoire de la Ville de Paris_ of Felibien and of Lobineau, vol. ii., pp. 1268-1271, and some records in vol. iii. of the _Preuves et Pièces justificatives_, p. 144. Sauval contains but a page on the Carmelites, vol. i., p. 450. The best thing in regard to this convent is found in the _Curiosités de Paris_, 1771, vol. i., pp. 459-463. We take from it the following description of the church: “Although the main body of this church is very ancient, it is one of the best decorated in Paris. The great altar is formed of four marble columns, and is reached by twelve steps, very ingeniously placed, with a balustrade of marble. All the ornaments of this altar are of bronze gilded; the tabernacle, which represents the ark of the covenant, is all of silver; the bas-relief in front is highly wrought, and represents the Annunciation. Nothing is more sumptuous than this altar on feast-days. You then see a sun, bright with stones of great value, accompanied by candlesticks, vases, and other pieces of goldsmith’s ware, whose quantity equals its magnificence. The picture is by Guido, and represents the Annunciation.

“The choir is separated from the nave by four beautiful columns of sea-green marble, surmounted by flames of gilded bronze of wonderful beauty and size. The crucifix of bronze, which you see on the door, is one of the best and highly esteemed of the works of Sarrazin.

“The vault of the church, upon which numerous stories from the Holy Scriptures are represented, was painted by Champagne, through the liberality of Marie de Médicis. Observe in it an excellent piece of perspective, designed by Des Argues: it is a crucifix, with the Holy Virgin and St. John, so artistically painted by the same Champagne, that, on entering the church, they appear upon a perpendicular plane, although horizontal, which produces an agreeable and singular effect.

“Above the door of this church there is a beautiful gallery, containing statues of Saint Peter, of Saint Paul, and of Saint Michael overcoming the devil.

“All the chapels are magnificent: the most beautiful pictures and gildings adorn all parts of it; neatness and good taste reign throughout.

“The twelve pictures ornamented with gilded frames, which are placed under the windows, represent subjects drawn from the New Testament, and were painted by very skilful masters. The first, at the right on entering, represents the _Resurrection of Lazarus_; the second, _The Circumcision of our Lord_; the third, _The Adoration of the Magi_; the fourth, _The Assumption of the Holy Virgin_; the fifth, _The Descent of the Holy Ghost upon the Apostles_; the sixth, _The Birth of our Lord_. These six pictures were also painted by the celebrated Champagne, and are very highly esteemed. On the other side, the first represents the _Miracle of the Five Loaves_, by Stella; the second, _The Madeline at the feet of our Lord, at the house of Simon the Pharisee_—it is one of the finest works of the famous Le Brun; the third, _The Entry of Jesus Christ into Jerusalem_, by La Hire; the fourth, _Christ at the side of Jacob’s well, talking with the Samaritan woman_, by Stella; the fifth, _Christ served in the Desert by Angels_—this is also by Le Brun; the sixth, _The Appearance of our Lord to the three Marys_, by La Hire.

“Opposite to the choir of the nuns, observe the great picture representing _the Annunciation_; it is an excellent work by Guido, who painted it for Queen Marie de Médicis.

“Look afterwards at the chapel of Sainte-Marie-Madeleine; it is one of the most ornamented. You will there see the statue of Cardinal de Bérulle, made in marble by Sarrazin, in 1657; it is raised upon a marble pedestal, upon which are excellent bas-reliefs, by Lestocart, a famous sculptor. These bas-reliefs represent the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, and that also performed by Noah, when he left the ark. You will also see in this chapel, all covered with pictures, one of the most perfect paintings ever produced by the famous Le Brun; it represents the _Penitent Madeleine_. Grief and repentance are so vividly expressed in this, and the skill of the excellent master so well proved by all the accompaniments, that you can find nothing more finished and more perfect. The life of this saint is represented in the wainscot of this beautiful chapel.”

[88] _Histoire manuscrite_, t. ii.

[89] We have elsewhere established that of the three sources of human knowledge, intuition, induction, and deduction, the first is much the most fertile and the most elevated. It is intuition, which, by its own spontaneous power, discovers directly and without the aid of reflection, all essential truths; it is the source of light to the human race; the voice that speaks to prophets and poets; the principle of all inspiration of enthusiasm, and of that unalterable and sure faith, that astonishes reasoning which is compelled to treat it as a folly, because it cannot account for it by its ordinary processes. See the _Cours de Philosophie_, particularly, First Series, vol. v., p. 301; and Second Series, vol. i., Lecture vi., pp. 131-141, etc.

[90] See the _Vie de la Mère Madeleine de Saint-Joseph, religieuse Carmélite déchaussée_, by a priest of the Oratoire (Father Senault): Paris, 1655, in-4ᵒ. There is a second edition, of 1670, augmented. The Carmelites still have the head of their venerable mother. It is powerful and large. A portrait of her, preserved by the convent, exhibits in her face great strength of character. It has been many times engraved.

[91] The Carmelites have a small portrait, painted on wood, of Mother Marie de Jésus, somewhat advanced in life, but of a noble and sweet visage. It has been engraved by Regnesson.

[92] _Histoire manuscrite_, vol. ii.

[93] _Histoire manuscrite_, vol. ii.

[94] The Carmelites were very willing to let me see the portrait, painted upon canvas, of Mother Marie-Madeleine, which does not belie her reputation for beauty. The face is of the most perfect oval; the eyes are of the finest and deepest blue; the forehead is noble; the general aspect is full of grandeur and grace. It would be difficult to find any thing more beautiful.

[95] We will mention the best known of the general visitors of the order: in 1614, the Cardinal de Bérulle; in 1619, Father de Condren, the second general of the Oratoire; in 1627, the Abbé de Bérulle, nephew of the cardinal, etc. Among the superiors of the monastery, we find, in the earlier period, Father Gibieuf, a learned oratorien, one of the correspondents of Descartes; later, in 1662, M. Ferret, doctor in theology, and curate of Saint-Nicholas-du-Chardonnet; in 1678, M. Pirot, a doctor of the Sorbonne; in 1715, M. Vivant, grand vicar of Cardinal de Noailles; in 1747, the Bishop of Bethlehem, celebrated for having extirpated Jansenism, which had been introduced among the Carmelites at the close of the preceding century.

[96] Her letters from Spain to Madame de Coulanges, are, for attractiveness of style, much superior to those of Madame des Ursins. Letters de Madame de Villars, etc., Paris, 1806 and 1823, and what Madame de Sévigné says of her, letters of October 8, 1679, and February 28, 1680.

[97] The painted portrait that has been shown me, represents her in fact as having the most happy face, with charming blue eyes and beautiful forehead, and a look at once lively and agreeable.

[98] Letter of January 5, 1680.

[99] Letter of November 22, 1688.

[100] Edition of Lebel, vol. xxxix., p. 690.

[101] Varying from our manuscripts: _weighed_.

[102] An autograph billet, for which we are indebted to the Carmelite ladies.

[103] This fixes the date of the note: it is therefore a little while after the death of Mother Madeleine de Saint-Joseph; that is, in 1637.

[104] Several lines effaced and wholly illegible, and half of a page cut.

[105] Mademoiselle Nicolas, born at Bordeaux, agreeable in person and mind, say our manuscripts, and pleasing to everybody. Having read, when quite a child, the Life of Catherine de Sienne, she devoted herself to imitating her, and joined the Carmelites at nineteen, and died at thirty-three. There is a small portrait of her, very well made, representing her in ecstasy.

[106] Paris, 1774, in-12ᵒ.

[107] Vol. 1st, p. 369.

[108] Ibid., p. 74.

[109] Vol. 1st, p. 79.

[110] Ibid., p. 124.

[111] Vol. 1st, p. 146.

[112] The King of Poland, Wladislas, had just espoused Marie de Gonzague, daughter of the Duke de Nevers, sister of the Palatine. After the death of this first husband, she passed with the crown to his brother Casimir, whom Mademoiselle d’Epernon had refused.

[113] Her mother-in-law, Marie de Cambout, niece of Richelieu, whom the cardinal had married to the Duke d’Epernon, as he had married another of his nieces, Mademoiselle de Brézé, to the Duke d’Enghien. Madame d’Epernon was ill-treated by her husband, and died in retreat, in 1691. She was sister of the Abbé du Cambout de Pontchâteau, a celebrated Jansenist. See two portraits of her among the portraits of Mademoiselle.

[114] It is worth while to see, in the Abbé Montis, the great resistance which Mademoiselle d’Epernon had to overcome from her brother, the Duke de Candale, and especially from her father, who appealed to the parliament and to the pope; the death of the Duke de Candale, his remains carried to the Carmelites; the conversion of the duke through the instrumentality of his daughter, the finest portions of her life and her pious death. She was one of the benefactresses. _Histoire manuscrite_, vol. 1st, p. 558. “The gifts bestowed by Anne-Marie de Jésus amounted to more than a hundred and fifty thousand livres. Besides this immense sum, the Duke d’Epernon, her father, dying in 1661, without heirs, bequeathed to it a hundred thousand livres over and above the sixteen thousand which he left as a pious legacy. This lord had already assigned to the house, during the life of our very honored Sister Anne-Marie, three thousand livres pension, finding that the sixteen thousand livres, which were regarded as her dowry, was too slender a sum, and sufficient only to endow a lady who had followed her.” The lady here alluded to, and of whom Mademoiselle also speaks, was named Bouchereau. “Being,” says the Abbé Montis (p. 34), “of an agreeable form, she occupied herself with things quite as fragile; but she finally turned her attention to religion, and, desiring to become a nun, and guessing the views of Mademoiselle d’Epernon, she opened her heart to her, and begged to be allowed to follow her, which was readily granted.” Mademoiselle Bouchereau died during her novitiate, before making a profession.

It is through error that, on the faith of the Abbé Mentis, in the abridged Life of the Mother, joined to that of Mademoiselle d’Epernon, p. 291, the learned editor of the works of Bossuet supposes, vol. xxxiv., p. 690, “the beautiful letter on the Mother Agnès is addressed to Madame d’Epernon, prioress of the Carmelites of the Faubourg Saint-Jacques,” for Mademoiselle d’Epernon—it was thus that she was called—and not Madame d’Epernon, was never prioress. Bossuet wrote to the prioress who succeeded the Mother Agnès, either the Mother Claire du Saint-Sacrement, who died as he entered upon his office; or rather to the one who almost immediately took her place, that is, the Mother Marie du Saint-Sacrement; in the world, Madame de La Thuillerie, who took her vows in 1654, was prioress from 1691 to 1700, and died in 1705. Our manuscripts contain several ancient copies of the letter of Bossuet, all bearing the inscription: _To the Mother of the Saint-Sacrement_.

In 1680, Madame de Sévigné, accompanying Mademoiselle to the Carmelites, there saw Mademoiselle d’Epernon, and found her very much altered. Letter of the 5th of January, 1680: “I was yesterday at the convent of the Carmelites with Mademoiselle, who was good enough to ask Madame Lesdiguières to take me there. We entered this holy place. I was delighted with Mother Agnès. She spoke to me of you, whom she seemed to know through her sister (Madame the Marchioness de Villars). I saw Madame de Stuart, beautiful and contented (she made a profession this very year, say our manuscripts, under the name of Sister Marguerite de Saint-Augustin, and died in 1722). I saw Madame d’Epernon.... More than thirty years had elapsed since we had seen one another: she seemed to be horribly changed.”

And nevertheless, without being a great beauty, she was the worthy sister of the beautiful Candale. The convent of the Carmelites possesses several pictures of her. One is quite large, representing her between forty and fifty, pale and sick, but still agreeable. The best and most perfectly preserved, represents her young and charming. Her figure is delicate and graceful, but of that fragile grace which years do not respect. She is painted with a smile upon her lips, and such as she was in the world. It is probably the portrait of Beaubrun, engraved by Edelinck.

[115] Vol. 1st.

[116] L’Histoire manuscrite, vol. 1st, contains the epitaphs of Michel de Marillac, of Marguerite and Catherine d’Orleans, of Madame the Princess, of the Princess de Conti, etc. When the keeper of the seals, Marillac, was arrested, the Mother Madeleine de Saint-Joseph tried, in every way, to serve and console him in his misfortune. Regardless of the opinion of Richelieu, who was then more powerful than ever, and who was the protector of the order, she caused an exposition of the eucharist during sixty days and sixty nights; procured the offering of a large number of prayers; she wrote often to the pious exile; implored the cardinal to have him treated with less rigor; and after his death earnestly sought and obtained his body from Châteaudun; erected to him a tomb at the base of the sanctuary in the chapel of Saint Thérèse, and composed herself this epitaph: “Here lies Messire Michel de Marillac, keeper of the seals of France, who, having been raised to this and other dignities, has always preserved an esteem for true honors and eternal riches, doing many good works, loving justice, seeking the glory of God, sustaining his Church, succoring the oppressed, giving all that he had to the poor; and when he was, by Providence, deprived of all, he showed his great magnanimity and contempt of earthly things; living contentedly, and journeying on to a holy death, by which he passed from this world to another, in the year of grace 1682.”

[117] _Histoire manuscrite_, vol. 1st, pp. 491, 492.

[118] Villefore, p. 13.

[119] Villefore, p. 14.

[120] Manuscript of André d’Ormesson, fol. 332, verso.—It was on the occasion of the ballet of the 18th of February, 1635, that the _Gazette de France_ cited, for the first time, the name of Mademoiselle de Bourbon. The extra of the 21st of February, gives a full account of the fête of the 18th. It describes all the scenes of the ballet of the king, names all the great lords who danced in it, and concludes thus: “Such was the grand ballet of the queen, which so delighted all who were present that they were unable to decide which was most charming, the beauties who adorned, the gems with which they glittered, or the figures which represented those _sixteen_ divinities of which it was composed: the queen, _Mademoiselle de Bourbon_, Mesdames de Longueville (the first wife of the Duke de Longueville), de Montbazon, de Chaulnes, de La Valette, de Retz, Mademoiselle de Rohan, Mesdames de Lyancourt and de Mortemart, Mesdemoiselles de Senecé, de Hautefort, d’Esche, de Vieux-Pont, de Saint-Georges and de La Fayette, who did not quit it until three o’clock in the morning. Every one left this place of marvels with the feelings of Jacob, who, having seen angels in the night, thought that he was standing upon the spot where heaven and earth united.”

[121] _Mémoire pour servir à l’histoire de la Société polie en France_; Paris, in-8ᵒ, 1835. See also M. Walckenær: _Mémoires touchant la Vie et les Ecrits de Madame de Sévigné_, vol. 1st, chap. iv. and v.

[122] The very word _urbanity_ is from Balzac, one of the first and most illustrious frequenters of the house.

[123] The Château de Rambouillet, above Versailles, ten leagues from Paris. Francis I. died here.

[124] One to Madame the Duchess d’Aiguillon, relating to a certain water-course: Tallemant, vol. ii., p. 228. The other, her epitaph, preserved by Ménage in his _Observations on the Poetry of Malherbe_.

[125] Vol. ii., p. 233.

[126] I do not know where M. Rœderer got the idea that Madame de Rambouillet wrote so simply. Here is one of her billets, which could not have led the person to whom it is addressed to speak of _simplicity_, as M. Rœderer does of the letters of Madame de Rambouillet, and of her daughter to Voiture; we speak from conjecture, for these letters have not been seen by us. The one we give here was found among the manuscripts of Conrart, in the Library of the Arsenal, vol. xiv., in-4ᵒ, p. 53; it is addressed to Godeau, by turns Bishop of Grasse and of Vence:

“SIR:—If my carabineer-poet or poetic carabineer (Arnault, Colonel of Carabineers, a distinguished warrior, a man of great wit, but a satirist, and a person enough like Bussy) was in Paris, I would reply to you in verse, and not in prose; but for myself I have no familiarity with the muses. I return a million thanks for your kind wishes; and in recompense, I wish every moment that you were in a lodge, where I am sure you would sleep better than you do at Vence. It is supported by columns of transparent marble, and was built above the mid-region of the air by Queen Zirfée. The sky there is always serene; clouds darken neither the sight nor the understanding, and thence quite at my ease I have considered the downfall of the terrestrial Angel. It seems to me that on this occasion fortune has shown that it is a slander to say that she favors only the young. And because I am no more the subject of change than my lodge, you may rest assured that I shall continue so as long as I live.

“Sir,

“Your very humble servant,

ↃC (Catherine) DE VIVONNE.”

_June 26, 1642._

[127] The works of Segrais, Amsterdam, 1723, vol. 1st. _Mémoires Anecdotes_, p. 29.

[128] On Mademoiselle de Rambouillet, Pisani, and his sisters, see Tallemant, vol. ii., pp. 207-262.

[129] Edition of 1659, pp. 118-121.

[130] See Saural, _Antiquités de Paris_, vol. iii., p. 200, and the plan of Paris by Gomboust. These hôtels, or rather their ruins, have just entirely disappeared, with the Rue Saint-Thomas-du-Louvre, to the advantage of the Place du Carrousel. May this admirable place preserve its grandeur, so dearly bought, and no transversal building spoil the beautiful harmony of the Louvre and the Tuileries! May also some competent and industrious man, devoted to the study of Paris and its monuments, resolve not to let the Rue Saint-Thomas-du-Louvre perish without giving its description and a history faithful to the epoch of its greatest glory.

[131] _Mémoires_, vol. 1st, p. 18.

[132] Ed. of Amsterdam. Petitot, vol. xxxvi. of the collection, p. 841, proposes to read _husesas_, from _huso_, spindle. The true reading seems _finezas_.

[133] It is very certain that the author of _Mirame_ show some littleness in the ridiculous quarrel raised against _The Cid_; but it must be acknowledged that he had some State reasons not to be despised. He who had brought about the royal edict against duels could not endure verses in their honor; there was also in _The Cid_ more than one word unfavorable to the prime ministers. Besides, the cardinal loved Corneille; he gave him a good pension, and even performed the marriage ceremony for him. One day Corneille having presented himself more sad and thoughtful than ordinary before the Cardinal Richelieu, the latter asked him if he was working. Corneille replied that he was far from having the tranquillity necessary for composition, that his head was turned with love. It was necessary to explain the whole matter, and he told the cardinal that he was passionately in love with the daughter of Lieutenant General d’Andely, and that he could not obtain her from her father. The cardinal requested this father, so hard to please, to come to him at Paris. He arrived trembling at receiving such an unexpected order, and returned very glad to get off with giving his daughter to a man in such high credit. See the brothers Parfait, _History of the French Theatre_, vol. v., p. 304.

[134] Works of Balzac, in-fol., vol. ii., p. 419.

[135] Maitre Vincent, etc.

[136] Letter of November 24, 1676.

[137] Third Satire.

[138] Tallemant, ii., p. 295.

[139] Edit. of Saint-Surin, vol. iv., p. 375.

[140] See in the _Œuvres diverses_ of Corneille, ed. of Amsterdam, 1740, p. 174, the elegy containing a declaration of love: it is not dated, but must have been written during the youth of Corneille, and even before his glory, for he does not speak of it, whilst later he uses a very different tone. The lady to whom his elegy is addressed, must have been of good birth, if the young poet is to be believed. He paints finely the passage from admiration to love:

Mais de ce sentiment la flatteuse imposture N’empêcha pas le mal pour cacher la blessure, Et ce soin d’admirer, qui dure plus d’un jour, S’il n’est amour dejà, devient bientôt amour. Un je ne sais quel trouble où je me vis réduire De cette vérité sut assez tôt m’instruire: Par d’inquiets transports me sentant émouvoir, J’en connus le sujet quand j’osai vous revoir. ... Un désordre confus m’expliqua mon martyre: Je voulus vous parler, mais je ne sus que dire. Je rougis, je pàlis, et d’un tacite aveu Je n’aime point, dis je, hélas! qu’il s’en faut peu! etc.

The piece entitled _Jalousie_, and which is not finished, has parts which seem written by Molière.

Le plus léger chagrin d’une humeur inégale, Le moindre égarement d’un mauvais intervalle, Un souris par mégarde à ses yeux dérobé, Un coup d’œil par hasard sur un autre tombé, ... Tout cela fait pour lui de grands crimes d’État, Et plus l’amour est fort, plus il est délicat.

Corneille felt a tender sentiment for the Marchioness de B. A. T. (we are ignorant of the name of the person concealed under these initials). He speaks of himself now in a very different manner from that of his youth, and he turns the honors of his glory to the profit of his love:

Je connais mes défauts, mais aprés tout je pense Être pour vous encore un captif d’importance, Car vous aimez le gloire, et vous savez qu’un roi No vous en peut jamais assurer tant que moi, etc.

Corneille bid adieu to her whose love he despairs of obtaining; he yields to younger rivals:

Négligez-moi pour eux, mals dites en vous-même: Moins il me veut aimer, plus il fait voir qu’il m’aime, Et m’aime d’autant plus que son cœur enflammé N’ose même aspirer au bonheur d’être aimé. Je fais tous ses plaisirs, j’ai toutes ses pensées, Sans que le moindre espoir les ait intéressées. Puisse-je malgré vous y penser au peu moins, M’échapper quelque jour vers quelques autres soins, Trouver quelques plaisirs ailleurs qu’en votre idée, Et voir toute mon âme un peu moins obsédée; Et vous, de qui je n’ose attendre jamais rien, Ne ressentir jamais un mal pareil au mien!

I will not quote, but indicate the stanzas addressed to the same person, and which express the same sentiments in a different meter:

Marquise, si mon visage A quelques traits un peu vieux, etc.

[141] Vol. ii., p. 87. The first edition of Voiture is that given by his nephew, Pinchesne, almost immediately after his death, in 1650, in-4ᵒ, and which is dedicated to Condé. There was already a seventh edition, in-12ᵒ, in 1665. The last and most complete is that, of 1745, 2 vol., small in-8ᵒ. It is this that we shall quote.

[142] Vol. ii., p. 66. It was the ancient hôtel de Gondi, _the most magnificent of the times_, says again Sauval, _Ibid._, p. 131. Perelle has engraved the hôtel and the gardens.

[143] Lenet, edit. Michaud, pp. 447 and 450.

[144] One is deceived in expecting to become acquainted with the great Condé, by seeing the celebrated portrait of Nanteuil. This portrait is of 1662. It represents Condé fatigued and grown old, after the civil war. We must look for the conqueror of Rocroy and of Lens, in the portraits of Haret, of Michel Lasne, and especially of Duret.

[145] See farther on.

[146] _Mémoires anecdotes_, p. 108.

[147] Farther on, chap. iv.

[148] Observe the style in which he writes from Grasse, the 18th December, 1637, to Mademoiselle de Bourbon: “Mademoiselle, I am proud to learn that she, who occupies all hearts, should fear that she is not in my memory. Though it were a temple, you should there have a place; judge, then, whether I have no interest in preserving you in it, in order that you may render it precious, poor and unfaithful as it was before. It is principally at the altar, Mademoiselle, that you are present with me. I truly ask God to add other lilies to those of your crown, but I ask him, also, to mingle with them the love of the thorns of his Son, and to strengthen you in the generous contempt of the grandeur in which I have seen (an allusion to the thought entertained by Mademoiselle de Bourbon of becoming a Carmelite).” Elsewhere, May 3, 1641...... “Our Lord is very good, but he is jealous, and he would prefer that we should never have tasted his spirit, than to become disgusted with it, and suffer it to be quenched. Roses have thorns which defend their beauty, but princesses are in the midst of roses which do not secure them against the temptations which the pleasures of the world inspire....” See _Letters of M. Godeau, Bishop of Vence, on different subjects_; Paris, 1718, p. 17 and p. 148.

[149] _De la Fausseté des Vertus humaines_, by M. Esprit; in-12ᵒ, two vol., Paris, 1678.

[150] _The most excellent Buildings of France_, in-fol., 1607, vol. ii. Many plates of the castle, none of the garden.

[151] _Views of the finest Buildings of France_, by Perelle.—_General view of the Château de Chantilly, of its canals, fountains, and groves_, etc.

[152] Bossuet, funeral oration on the great Condé.

[153] Edition Michaud, p. 229.

[154] _Œuvres de Sarrazin_, at Paris, in-4ᵒ, 1656, p. 231. This first edition was reproduced in two small volumes in 1663, and in 1685. In 1674, appeared the _Nouvelles Œuvres de Sarrazin_, in two parts, containing prose and verse.

[155] Mademoiselle Chateignier de La Rocheposay, one of the prettiest of women, and much courted by the Duke de Candale, the brother of Mademoiselle d’Epernon.

[156] See the pretty engraving of Parelle.

[157] Edit. of 1745, vol. 1st, etc. _Our Aurora_, hitherto perfectly unknown, is in fact Mademoiselle de Bourbon herself, according to an old tradition preserved by the manuscript collection of songs, called _Recueil de Maurepas_, for opposite to the first couplet this note is found: _For Mademoiselle de Bourbon, sleeping_.

[158] _Ibid._, p. 170. See also the song to Madame la Princesse, to the air _Des Landriri_; ibid., p. 129.

[159] See the different views of Ruel, by Parelle.

[160] Paris, in-4ᵒ, 1641.

[161] _Reglement donné par une dame de haute qualité à madame sa petit-fille_, published first in 1698, reprinted in 1779.

[162] Tallemant, vol. iv., p. 806.

[163] Cotin has made an exact _Déscription de Liancourt_ in his _Œuvres galantes_, second edition, 1665, pp. 108-115.

[164] Manuscripts of Conrart, in-4ᵒ, vol. xi., p. 443.

[165] _Ibid._, p. 851.

[166] The cardinal, now old and sick, was as much dreaded by these young girls as the small-pox, from which they had been flying.

[167] Tallemant, vol. ii., p. 337, attributes these couplets to Bachaumont; Madame de Motteville, vol. iii., p. 230, gives them without the author’s name, and they are found with many others in a long mazarinade, entitled, _Triolets de Saint-Germain_, in-4ᵒ, 1649.

[168] Library of the Arsenal, _Belles-Lettres Françaises_, No. 70, collection in-fol., entitled: _Chansons Notées_, vol. ii., p. 66.

[169] Manuscripts of Conrart, in-4ᵒ, vol. xi., p. 848.

[170] Manuscripts of Conrart, in-4ᵒ, vol. xi., p. 848.

[171] Writing in verse had become a great amusement with all this young and ingenious society. Vol. xiii. of the Manuscripts of Conrart, in-fol., p. 337, contains an epistle in verse to the Duke d’Enghien, when he was at Dijon, and only twenty years of age.

[172] Mémoires, vol. vi., p. 105. “This lady did not hate the court. She desired general approbation, and especially the approbation of those who had credit, for naturally she had a greediness for all that is called favor.”—_Ibid._, p. 167. “According to what I have said of Madame de Montausier, it is easy to judge that she must have been agreeable to the king, not only because she had fine qualities, but because the merit which she possessed was entirely conformed to the fashion of the world. One day that the queen-mother had unwillingly received Mademoiselle de La Vallière, Madame de Montausier applauded this condescension, which had given Queen Maria-Theresa so much pain.”—_Ibid._ “I cannot help, in this place, mentioning a circumstance which may show how much the hearts and minds of people of court are ordinarily spoiled. At the moment when the queen had commanded me to go and speak to the queen her mother, I met Madame de Montausier, who was rejoicing over the very matter that had thrown the queen into despair. She said to me with an exclamation of joy: Ah! Madame, the queen-mother has done an admirable act in wishing to see La Vallière. See the tact of a very shrewd woman and of a good politician. But, added this lady, she is so feeble that we cannot hope that she will sustain this act as she should. I was truly astonished to see the operations of different sentiments in different persons, and, unwilling to reply, I quitted her.... The Duke de Montausier, who had the reputation of a man of honor, caused in me, about the same time, a similar pain, for, in speaking of the ill-feeling which the queen-mother entertained towards the Countess de Brancas, he said to me these words: Ah! truly the queen is very pleasant to be offended, because Madame de Brancas is so complaisant towards the king as to keep company with Mademoiselle de La Vallière. If she were cunning and wise, she would be very glad that the king was in love with Mademoiselle de Brancas, for, being the daughter of the first officer in her service (the Count de Brancas was chevalier d’honneur of the queen-mother), he, his wife and his daughter, would be of great advantage to her with the king.” When the amours of the king with Madame de Montespan commenced, Madame de Montausier was not more severe, _Mémoires de Mademoiselle_, vol. v., p. 254: “Madame de Montespan took up her quarters in the room belonging to Madame de Montausier, near that of the king; and it was observed that a sentinel, who had been placed in the passage communicating with the lodging of the king and that of Madame de Montespan, had been removed.... I am told, said the queen, that it is Madame de Montausier who conducts this intrigue, that she deceives me, that the king visits Madame de Montespan in her room. Madame de Montausier said to the queen: Since your Majesty would be made to believe that I give mistresses to the king, what injury may any one expect to escape? The queen replied to her in equivocal terms: I know more than you think; I am not the dupe of any one.” Appearances were all against Madame de Montausier. Also, at a later period, Montespan, who was evil-minded enough to misinterpret the honor done by the king to his wife, made for Madame Montausier a most disagreeable scene. Madame de Montausier complained to the king, who sent for Montespan, for the purpose of putting him in prison. See _Mademoiselle_, vol. vi., 82: “This affair made a great noise in the world, because it was an extraordinary outrage upon a woman who had thus far sustained an excellent reputation. M. de Montausier was at Rambouillet; he did not know of the affair; they even said that it was concealed from him; others imagined that he knew it, but that it was for his advantage to seem ignorant. A little while after he was made tutor of the Dauphin, etc.”

[173] If it is true, as several contemporaries assure us, and among others, Segrais, that Montausier had served as a model for the _Misanthrope_, it was because Molière, who did not search things closely, has taken a difficult virtue for reality. But Molière told his secret to no one, and probably there is no secret here except that of genius. The _Misanthrope_ is not the copy of any original. Many originals have been before the great observer, and furnished him with a thousand particular traits; but the entire and complete character of the _Misanthrope_ is his own creation.

[174] Tallemant, vol. ii., p. 243: “Our marquis, seeing that his religion was an obstacle to his designs, changed it. He said that salvation could be obtained in either; but in the change he seems to have consulted his interest.”

[175] Every one called her Elizabeth, and she is thus named in the most authentic printed documents; but in all our manuscripts she never signs herself Elizabeth, but almost always Isabelle. See several or her autograph letters among the papers of Lenet in the National Library. A manuscript piece, the judicial evidence given by Madame de Châtillon before an ecclesiastical commission delegated by the Pope, in the matter of the canonization of the Mother Madeleine de Saint-Joseph, can leave no doubt; Madame de Châtillon deposes thus: “My name is Isabelle Angélique de Montmorency; I am a native of the city of Paris; I am thirty-two years of age, daughter of Henry François de Montmorency, Count de Boutteville and other places, and of Isabelle Angélique de Vienne, his lawful wife; I am widow of Gaspard de Coligny, Duke de Châtillon....” and she signs: “Moy, Isabelle Angélique de Montmorency.”

[176] Lenet, ed. Mich., p. 437.

[177] See long details on this subject in Madame de Motteville, vol. 1st, p. 292, etc.

[178] _Œuvres de Voiture_, vol. ii., p. 174, Epistle to M. de Coligny.

[179] _Œuvres de Sarrazin_, in-4ᵒ; Poésies, p. 74.

[180] Madame de Motteville, vol. iii., p. 133, etc.

[181] See on Madame de Montbazon, the chapter which follows, and, on Madame de Châtillon, the INTRODUCTION.

[182] We are not very well acquainted with the origin and history of the Du Vigeans. We find a Protestant Vigean in the States-General in 1615, where he performed an active part.—_Journal historique et anecdotes de la cour et de Paris_, among the manuscript papers of Conrart; in-4ᵒ, vol. xi., p. 238.

[183] Letter of Voiture to Madame Du Vigean, in sending him an elegy which he had made and which she had asked, vol. i., p. 27. It is also Madame Du Vigean whom he designates by the name of the _Belle Baronne_, in two couplets, at page 120 and 127 of vol. ii. It seems that the Du Vigeans resided at first in the quarter Saint-Germain, as well as Madame d’Aiguillon, and that she afterwards resided in the Rue Saint-Thomas-du-Louvre.

[184] Tallemant, vol. ii., p. 32, and Library of the Arsenal, _Collection of Historical Songs_, vol. i., p. 149.

[185] _Œuvres_, vol. i., pp. 20-25; letter tenth to the Cardinal de La Valette.

[186] Desmarets, _Œuvres poétique_, in-4ᵒ, 1641, pp. 18-21.

[187] Vol. ii., fol. 801.

[188] Vol. i., p. 181.

[189] _Ibid._, p. 186.

[190] Library of the Arsenal, manuscripts of Conrart, in-4ᵒ, vol. xi., p. 855.—Devices were then in fashion; at a later period Mademoiselle placed portraits in them, and Madame Sablé maxims and thoughts. These devices had nothing official in them, and in that they resembled what are now called fancy seals, which must not be confounded with family arms. Individuals made devices for themselves and others; they had them printed, and they are regarded as true works of art. There is in the Arsenal, _Belles-Lettres Françaises_, No. 348, a collection, in-folio, upon vellum, of great beauty. It had been made for the Duchess de La Trémouille, whose portrait is found among those of Mademoiselle. Each device occupies an entire leaf. We find here those of Anne of Austria, of Madame the Princess, of Mademoiselle de Montpensier, and of many other illustrious females of the seventeenth century. We limit ourselves to giving the device of Madame de Longueville. It is very different from that of Mademoiselle de Bourbon. It is a bunch of lilies upon a nest of serpents, with these words: _Meo moriuntur odore_.

[191] Fol., 332, verso.

[192] _Mémoires_, vol. iii., p. 893. See also vol. iv., p. 89.

[193] Deposition in the affair of the beatification of the Mother Madeleine de Saint-Joseph: “I, Sister Marthe Poussar du Vigean, called de Jésus, aged 28 years.... November 17, 1650.”

[194] _Mémoires de Lenet_, edit. Michaud, p. 550.

[195] Lenet, edit. Michaud, p. 550.

[196] Lenet, _ibid._

[197] _Ibid._

[198] _Supplément Français_, No. 925. The author seems to be called Maupassant. “It is the custom,” says he, in commencing, “of all those who write history, to wish to appear faithful, disinterested, and exempt from all passion. For my part, I do not pretend to persuade any one of my sincerity, but I dare to declare that I have seen most of the things which I undertake to write about.”

[199] Mémoires de Madame de Motteville, vol. i., p. 295: “The Duke d’Enghien had so strong a passion for Mademoiselle Du Vigean, that I have heard Madame Du Vigean, her mother, say that he had often wished to break his marriage, having been forced to espouse the Duchess d’Enghien, in order that he might marry her daughter, and that he had even labored to this end. I have heard Madame de Montausier, who knew these intrigues, say that this prince had pretended to love Mademoiselle de Boutteville, by the express order of Mademoiselle Du Vigean, in order to conceal in public the friendship which he had for her, but that the beauty of Mademoiselle de Boutteville having frightened Mademoiselle Du Vigean, she had forbidden him, a little after, to see her and to speak to her, and that he had obeyed her so promptly, that all at once he ceased all intercourse with her, and that, to show that he had no affection for her, he caused her to marry Dandelot.”

[200] Mémoires de Madame de Motteville, p. 294.

[201] _Ibid._

[202] _Mémoires de Mademoiselle_, vol. 1st, p. 84.

[203] Mémoires, vol. i., p. 302.

[204] The Marquis d’Huxelles died in 1658, of his wounds, and of his chagrin on account of not receiving the appointment of Marshal. The office was conferred upon his son in 1703. Mademoiselle d’Huxelles was amiable and sprightly. She died at an advanced age in 1712.

[205] _Mémoires de Lenet_, part i., p. 207.

[206] _Mémoires de Mademoiselle_, vol. i., p. 84.

[207] As every thing then was the subject of songs, the two following couplets, which we find among the _Chansons Notées_ of the Arsenal, were written upon this occasion:

SUR L’AIR: _Laire lan lère._

Lorsque Vigean quitta la cour, Les Jeux, les Graces, les Amours Entrèrent dans le Monastère. Laire la laire lan lère, Laire la laire lan la.

Les Jeux pleurèrent ce jour-là; Ce jour la Beauté se voila, Et fit vœu d’être solitaire. Laire la laire, etc.

[208] _Ibid._ The remembrance which Condé preserved for Mademoiselle Du Vigean was such, that Mademoiselle asserts, vol. i., p. 88, that if Condé favored Chabot in his designs upon Mademoiselle de Rohan, it was because Chabot had been his confidant with Mademoiselle Du Vigean. “So,” says she, “after having been served during one of the most important periods of his life, it is not wonderful that he took care to promote the marriage so desired by Chabot.”

[209] It was customary to take in religion one’s baptismal name, as Louise de La Vallière was called Louise de La Miséricorde, and Anne Marie d’Epernon, Anne Marie de Jésus, etc.

[210] Vol. v.

[211] _Lettres originales_, vol. iv.

[212] Villefore, pp. 37, 38.

[213] _Mémoires_, edition of Amsterdam, 1735; vol. i., p. 45.

[214] A fine portrait of M. de Longueville, painted by Champagne, and engraved by Nanteuil, forms the frontispiece of _The Pucelle_ of Chapelain, in-fol., 1656.

[215] The hôtel of the Dukes de Longueville is not at all the one which, after the death of her husband, Madame de Longueville bought of the Epernons, on the Rue Saint Thomas-du-Louvre, near the hôtel de Rambouillet, where she resided with her children, and which bore her name from 1664 till the close of the seventeenth century. The dwelling of the Longuevilles was the old hôtel d’Alençon. (See Sauval, vol. i., pp. 65 and 70, especially p. 119.) It was situated on the Rue des Poulies, among the rich hôtels which line the right side of that street from the Rue Saint Honoré to the Seine, and which, with their dependencies and their gardens, extend to the Louvre. It was almost opposite to the Rue des Fossés-Saint-Germain-l’Auxerrois. Upon its right, towards the Seine, was the Petit-Bourbon, which, having served as a residence and a stronghold in Paris to the eldest of the house of Bourbon, became a royal building, a sort of appendage to the Louvre, where the young king, Louis XIV., gave several great balls, and the theatre of which was lent to Molière, for the performance of his comedies, upon his arrival in Paris. Upon the left, on the same line, after the hôtel de Longueville, came the hôtels de Villequier and d’Aumont; and a little nearer to the church and house of l’Oratoire, the hôtels de La Force and de Créqui. When, in 1663, Louis XIV., having entered into full possession of royal authority, and wishing to signalize his reign by great monuments, undertook to finish the Louvre and to give it a façade worthy of the rest of the edifice, it was necessary for him to pull down, with the Petit-Bourbon, a part of the hôtels of the Rue des Poulies, and among others that of Longueville. This was the most ancient and most considerable. It was composed of a large front building, of a vast court, of the hôtel proper, with immense gardens. Those of our readers who desire to be sure of the correctness of these details, have only to cast their eyes upon the excellent plan of Gomboust, which gives an admirable view of Paris in the seventeenth century, in 1652.

[216] It is truly inconceivable that a woman of so much mind as Madame de Sablé, could have carried her fear of sickness and contagion so far as all contemporary writers, Voiture, Tallemant, Mademoiselle, etc., testify. Her weakness upon this occasion, and the fidelity of Mademoiselle de Rambouillet, are attested to us by several unpublished letters of those ladies, which we find in the Library of the Arsenal, among the papers of Conrart, in-4ᵒ, vol. xiv.

[217] It is in vain that Mademoiselle says, vol. 1st, p. 47, that Madame de Longueville remained marked with the small-pox. Retz affirms the contrary. Edit. of Amsterdam, 1731, vol. i., p. 185: “The small-pox had taken away the first flower of her beauty, but left her all its brilliancy.”

[218] _Letters de Monseigneur Godeau sur divers sujets_, Paris, 1713, letter 76, p. 243: “Degrasse, December 13, 1642.... As to your face, another will rejoice, with much more propriety, that it will not be spoiled. Mademoiselle Paulet tells me so. I have so good an opinion of your sense, that I believe you would have been easily consoled if your disease had left its marks. Scars are often given by Divine Mercy to make persons, who have loved too well their complexions, see that it is a flower liable to fade even as it begins to bloom.”

[219] Edit. Michaud, p. 450.

[220] _Mémoires de La Rochefoucauld_, collection Petitot, vol. li., pp. 370 and 386.

[221] Bibliothèque Nationale, _Supplément Français_, No. 925.

[222] There can be no doubt in this case as to courage; a Coligny, a friend of Condé, having never been suspected of wanting it.

[223] The _Polexandre_ of Gomberville appeared in 1637. This romance had great success, and in a short time went through several editions; the best and the most complete is that of 1645, in five parts, forming eight volumes.

[224] I rely upon the report given by Lenet, which is almost the same as that sent at the time, by order of the Duke d’Enghien, to his father, the Prince de Condé. Lenet, edit. Michaud, p. 479, etc. See commencement of chap. iv.

[225] Claude de Letouf de Pradines, Baron de Sirot, a Burgundian gentleman, born near 1600, mortally wounded in 1652, at the bridge de Gergeau, in the wars of the Fronde.

[226] Bossuet, in his admirable narrative of the battle of Rocroy, has perfectly painted its close—the destruction of the Spanish infantry; but he has not even indicated the manœuvre which decided the day. It is to be regretted that Napoleon did not pay the same attention to the campaigns of Condé as he did to those of Turenne and of Frederic, and that after having incidentally judged, with the superiority of a master, and worthily relieved the judicious boldness which achieved the battle of Nortlingen, in which Condé did not fear to engage his only remaining wing for re-establishing the combat, instead of employing it to make a very difficult retreat before the cavalry of Jean de Vert, he did not devote a chapter to the examination of the battle of Rocroy, which opens a new military school.

[227] There is not, we believe, or at least we do not know that there is, any portrait painted or engraved of Mazarin in his youth. He was but forty-one years of age in 1643, and a portrait by M. Lasne represents him then with a face still handsome, in which delicacy is united with grandeur.

[228] See, upon this delicate point, M. Walckenær, _Mémoires sur Madame de Sévigné_, vol. i., p. 213, especially the somewhat decided letter of Anne to Mazarin, vol. iii., _Supplément_, p. 471.

[229] Vol. ii., p. 108.

[230] _Mémoires_, vol. i., p. 231.

[231] Madame de Motteville has thus painted her, vol. i., p. 47: “Her eyes were blue, large, and full of fire; her teeth white and even, and her complexion had the white and incarnation necessary to a light beauty.” Her _Nom de Précieuse_ was Hermione, _Grand Dictionnaire des Pretieuses_, vol. i., p. 218. Scarron has greatly celebrated her. Married in 1646 to the Marshal Charles de Schomberg, she followed him into his government of Trois Evechés, encountered Metz, the young Bossuet, and encouraged his first efforts. After the death of the marshal she lived in retirement, and died in 1691.

[232] To judge of her beauty, she should not be seen as Retz saw her at fifty years of age, nor as most of her portraits show her at the approach of age, with the widow’s cap which she wore after the death of her second husband; she should be seen when young and brilliant, if not during the life of the High Constable De Luynes, at least at the period of her second marriage. Born in 1604, married in 1617, a widow in 1619, remarried in 1622, at the age of eighteen, she had from fifteen to twenty years of the greatest splendor. Her form was charming. She had blue eyes, light chestnut hair, and a most beautiful bosom. Thus she is represented by several of the portraits of the times possessed by the Duke de Luynes, also by a charming portrait engraved by Daret.

[233] Tallemant, vol. iii., p. 407.

[234] _Mémoires_, vol. i., p. 46.

[235] Vol. i., p. 221. He cites, as well as Tallemant and even Madame de Motteville, incredible things. The collections of songs of the times abound in outrageous epigrams against her. See the _Collection of Maurepas_, in the National Library, and the collections of _Chanson’s historiques_, of the Library of the Arsenal.

[236] Vol. v., p. 246.

[237] See Introduction.

[238] Vol. iii., p. 410.

[239] In regard to the beauty of Madame de Montbazon, we have united what is said by Tallemant, vol. iii., p. 411, and by Madame de Motteville, vol. i., p. 146. The reader may judge of the truth of our description by going to see, at Versailles, in the curious gallery of the northern attic, under No. 2030, a small picture, representing Madame de Montbazon, at the age of thirty-five to forty years, with a collar of pearls, a beautiful forehead, fine black eyes, a magnificent throat; but all somewhat strong and without much distinction. This picture seems the original of the portrait engraved by Le Blond.

[240] Villefore, p. 82.

[241] _Mémoires_ of La Châtre in the collection Petitot, vol. li., p. 230.

[242] Mademoiselle, vol. 1st, pp. 62 and 68.

[243] It seems to me that it would be better to say: “I suffer for loving too much, and you for not loving enough.”

[244] See Mademoiselle, Madame de Motteville, and La Rochefoucauld.

[245] Mémoires de La Rochefoucauld, Collection Petitot, vol. li, p. 387.

[246] Vol. i., p. 65.

[247] See the _Mémoires_ of the times, and especially those of Campion.

[248] Second daughter of Duke François. This marriage, contracted in 1632, is a romance, which may be read in all the memoirs of the times.

[249] Royal Library, _Supplément Français_, No. 925, fol. 11.

[250] _Mémoires_, p. 391.

[251] _Mémoires_, p. 391.

[252] The Place-Royale and its environs were then the quarters of the upper classes. Begun in 1604 (_Antiquities and most remarkable things of Paris_, 1608, by Bonfons and by Du Breuil, p. 430), on the ruins of the Palais des Tournelles, by Henri IV., it was finished in 1612. (_Theatre of the Antiquities of Paris_, by Father Du Breuil, in-4ᵒ, 1613, p. 1050.) It is, as is known, a great square, or rather a rectangle, bordered on all sides by thirty-seven pavilions, supported by pillars forming a gallery, which extends entirely around the place. In the midst was a vast yard, divided into six beautiful grass-plots. In the centre was the equestrian statue of Louis XIII. The statue was by Biard, and the horse by Daniel de Volterre. On one of the faces of the pedestal of white marble, was the following inscription: “To the glorious and immortal memory of the great and invincible Louis the Just, thirteenth of the name, King of France and of Navarre, Armand, Cardinal de Richelieu, his principal minister, has raised this statue as an eternal mark of his zeal, of his fidelity, and of his gratitude, in 1639.” Under Louis XIV. this beautiful square was surrounded with a railing of excellent workmanship. Lemaire, said in 1685, vol. iii., p. 307: “They are now making a balustrade of iron, which will extend entirely around it and inclose a very agreeable garden, in which there will be four great reservoirs of water in the four corners. Private persons having their residences here, will contribute to the expense of this, each the sum of one thousand livres. The city will furnish the rest.” Germain Brice, in the first edition of his curious work, which appeared in 1685, as did that of Lemaire, says the same thing, adding that the inhabitants alone of the place will have the right of enjoying the garden which is to be laid out. “No one will enter except those belonging to the houses which have been furnished with keys.” In the second edition of Brice, of 1687, the beautiful railing was not erected; it is in the edition which follows, of 1701; it is seen in La Caille, in 1714; and in the engraving of Defer, in 1716. As to the garden and the four reservoirs, they are not even yet in the plan of Turgot, in 1740. It was the Restoration which accomplished the designs of the administration of Louis XIV. How many public and domestic events has this place witnessed during the seventeenth century, how many noble tourneys, how many atrocious duels, how many amiable rendezvous! What conversations, worthy of those of Décaméron, it has heard,—conversations which Corneille has collected in one of his first comedies, and in several acts of the _Menteur_! What graceful creatures have inhabited these pavilions! What sumptuous furniture, what treasures of taste have been assembled here! How many illustrious personages, of every kind, have mounted these beautiful staircases! Richelieu and Condé, Corneille and Molière, have trod them a thousand times. It was while walking under this gallery that Descartes, conversing with Pascal, suggested to him the idea of his beautiful experiments upon the weight of the air. It was there also that, while going one evening from the house of Madame de Guimenée, the melancholy De Thou received from Cinq-Mars the involuntary confidence of the conspiracy which was to lead them both to the scaffold. It was there, in short, that Madame de Sévigné was born, and close by it she lived. On reaching the Place-Royale by its true entrance, the Rue-Royale, beside the Rue Saint-Antoine, we find at the right angle the hôtel de Rohan, long occupied by the old Duchess Dowager, widow of that great Duke de Rohan, one of the first generals, and the greatest military writers of his age. In the left angle was the hôtel de Chaulnes, whose magnificent apartments have been celebrated by Bois-Robert, and which, at a later period, passed to Nicolaï. At the other two corners of the place were, to the right, on the side of the Rue des Tournelles and of the Boulevard, the vast and sumptuous hôtel of Saint-Géran; and to the left, on the side of the street Saint-Louis, the hôtel which was occupied by Richelieu before he had built and finished Palais-Cardinal. The four galleries were filled with hôtels not unworthy of those already mentioned. There was the hôtel of the Marshal de Lavardin, that of M. de Nouveau, that of Villequier, captain of the guards, who sold it to M. de Hameaux, by whom it was resold, in 1680, to the Rohan-Chabots, and from them this hôtel, even in passing through other hands, retained the name of hôtel Chabot. M. Walckenær, in his _La Bruyère_, p. 743, says that the Count de Montgomery and the unfortunate Marquis de Langlade, so celebrated in the history of unjust condemnations, lived together at the Place-Royale. Brice, in 1685, indicates the hôtel of the Marquis de Dangeau, and in 1713, on the right, in entering by the Rue Saint-Antoine, the hôtel of the Baron de Breteuil, and on the other side the house of the President Carrel. We know certainly that Madame de Sablé resided at the Place-Royale, as well as the Countess de Maure, with Mademoiselle de Vaudy; but the difficulty would be to discover the inhabitants of all the other pavilions, and thus to make an exact and complete history of the Place-Royale until the close of the seventeenth century. We suggest this subject of study to some pupil of the _Ecole des Chartes_, or to some young artist; they would find in it matter of the most interesting investigation, as well as descriptions the most charming, and a modest glory would not fail to follow after a few years of the most attractive labor. We take the liberty of pointing out to them, besides Felibien, vol. ii., Sauval, vol. ii., p. 624, the plan of Gomboust, from 1652, and the after plans, the following works: 1st, _The Paris Guide_, etc., by the Sieur de Schayes, 1647; 2d, _The Convenient Book, containing the addresses of the city of Paris, by Abraham Pradel, philosopher and mathematician_, Paris, small in-8ᵒ; 3d, _The Royal Almanac_, of 1699; 4th, the sequel to the different editions of G. Brice, from 1685 to 1725; 5th, the verses by Scarron, _Adieu au Marais et à la Place-Royale_, edit. of Amsterdam, of 1752, vol. vii., pp. 29-35; 6th, a Manuscript of the National Library, No. 7905, wherein is a _Supplement of the Antiquities of Paris, with all the most remarkable transactions from 1610 until the present time, by D. H. J. lawyer_. “_Until the present time_,” is up to 1640. Let us conclude with this remark: there is but one hôtel of the Place-Royale which has remained in the same family from 1612 till our own day, namely, the hôtel which bears the No. 25, and which, from father to son, has come down to its present proprietor, M. the Count de l’Escalopier.

[253] It is d’Ormesson who gives this date.

[254] D’Ormesson, manuscript on the Regency, whose author seems to be one Maupassant.

[255] La Rochefoucauld.

[256] Fol. 28, verso.

[257] D’Ormesson.

[258] D’Ormesson, Maupassant, and La Rochefoucauld.

[259] D’Ormesson.

[260] D’Ormesson; Maupassant says in the right side.

[261] D’Ormesson, Maupassant, La Rochefoucauld, Motteville.

[262] Maupassant says that the Duke de Guise and Coligny appeared before the court and justified themselves, the Duke de Guise with the greatest success and Coligny with very bad grace; but D’Ormesson, so well informed in regard to all that was going on in the Council of State and in the Parliament, says not a word of the matter—and nothing is more improbable, Coligny having immediately fallen into a desperate condition.

[263] La Rochefoucauld says that Coligny died four or five months after: it should be four or five days. In fact, we find in the journal of Olivier d’Ormesson, fol. 29, as follows: “Tuesday, December 29, the Marquis de Pardaillan came to see me, and told me that M. de Coligny was at Saint-Maur, and was likely to die of gangrene of his arm.” ... “Wednesday, December 30 (D’Ormesson has, through mistake, made it January), M. de Coligny was beyond hope, his wound making neither flesh nor matter, on account of his naturally bad constitution. M. the Duke d’Enghien had resolved to have his arm taken off.”

[264] Mademoiselle, _Mémoires_, vol. i., p. 74.

[265] Madame de Motteville, vol. i., p. 201.

[266] It is also in Madame de Motteville, vol. i., p. 201.

[267] Library of the Arsenal, small in-4ᵒ, lettered on the back, _Fr. Jurisprudence_, 19 (B). “It contains: 1st, Proposals for the reform of Abbeys and Priories; 2d, Fable of the Lion and of the Fox; 3d, Story of M. de Coligny and of Madame de Longueville.”—National Library, _Mélanges_, vol. cclxi., in-12ᵒ, comprising a collection of songs, letters of Madame de Courcelles, pretended letters of different ladies to Fouquet, and in the midst the history of Agésilan and Isménie. In comparing the two manuscripts, we find but little difference between them.

[268] The word _now_ shows that the novel was composed before the death of Gassion, who was slain before Lens in 1647.

[269] Madame de Motteville, vol. iv., p. 42.

[270] Madame de Motteville, vol. i., pp. 174-197.

[271] _Mémoires_ de La Rochefoucauld, Coll. Petitot, vol. li., p. 393.

[272] Napoleon was twenty-six years of age at the time of his first battle, that of Montenotte, and thirty, at the time of that of Marengo. Condé was not quite twenty-two years of age at Rocroy, and he was twenty-seven at Lens.

[273] General Bonaparte entered Italy in 1796, with 30,000 men under arms. He had at most from 15,000 to 20,000 at Montenotte; 20,000 at Castiglione; 13,000 only at Arcola; 16,000, at most, at Rivoli. It is true that at Marengo he had 28,000; but, for conception and execution, who would compare Marengo with Arcola and Rivoli? These were the most scientific and boldest campaigns of Italy, the most resembling those of Rocroy and of Fribourg.

[274] General Bonaparte had no adversaries like Mercy. Beaulieu, apparently thinking himself too strong, had so scattered his troops, that at Montenotte he fought with but half of his army. Wurmser, at Castiglione, committed the same error. D’Alvinzy was superior to them, and at Arcola and at Rivoli he yielded only to the unexpected grandeur of the manœuvres of the French general. Melas fought well at Marengo, as did also General Bonaparte, but neither of them performed any remarkable manœuvre; and this battle would have been lost but for the arrival of Desaix, as Waterloo was lost because Grouchy was not Desaix.

[275] I know nothing more noble than the dispatches of Condé, announcing his different victories. He says very little in them of himself, and much of others. During his retirement at Chantilly, his friends urged him to write his military memoirs; he refused, saying that he would be obliged to blame sometimes estimable generals, and to speak well of himself. Never was any one less a charlatan. In this respect, Turenne resembled Condé. What injures somewhat in my estimation the memoirs of Napoleon, is that ardent and continual self-preoccupation, which sees himself only everywhere, refers every thing to himself, confesses no fault, enlarges the least actions, praises none but mediocre men, depreciates eminent merit, treats Moreau and Kleber as he would have done some of his marshals, and prepares for himself everywhere a pedestal. But we must not forget that Napoleon was writing in exile and in misfortune, and that he was reduced to defend his own glory. See in Lenet, edit. Michaud, several letters of Condé to Mazarin, after Fribourg, after Lerida, after the taking of Ipres and the retaking of Furnes, especially after the battle of Lens. In giving an account of this affair, the secretary of the prince had written: _our victory_. Condé effaced the last word, and substituted _combat_. (Unpublished part of Memoirs of Lenet, pp. 499-515.)

[276] See chapter iii.

[277] It was at the attack of the lines of Fribourg that he threw into the enemy’s intrenchments his baton of command, indicating thereby his resolution to conquer or perish.

[278] Napoleon’s manœuvre of quitting Verona, in order to go around Caldiero, whom he could not attack in front, and to surprise Alvinzy in the marshes, where valor could make up for numbers, has been, and cannot be too much praised. There was prudence and audacity in it. General Bonaparte, knowing that he would be lost if he did not pass the bridge of Arcola, allowed the destruction of his best lieutenants, and barely escaped death himself. On this occasion, he showed himself great by the genius which conceives and by the heroism which executes; and he showed himself the equal of the Alexanders and Condés.

[279] _Mémoires_, vol. v., p. 20.

[280] This is the same Arnauld from whom we have so many pretty verses in the style of Voiture, and on account of whose absence Madame de Rambouillet regrets that she cannot reply to Godeau. See chap. ii.

[281] Allow me to repeat here that Mercy, whom the Spaniards created Count de Fuentes, and Fontaine, were two French gentlemen, one of Lorraine, the other of Burgundy.

[282] See close of chap. ii.

[283] In Italy, Napoleon never undertook a siege properly so called.

[284] The Prince de Condé has left a name in the science of fortification. He studied while at Bourges under the engineer Sarrazin, who rendered Montrond a very difficult place to be taken. When he went to Burgundy, he paid great attention to this part of the military art. There is preserved in the depot of fortifications an atlas of the strongholds of Burgundy, drawn by the hand of Condé: _Plan of the capital cities and frontiers of the Duchy of Burgundy, Bresse, and Gex, made at Dijon, January 7, 1640_, with this dedication:

TO MY FATHER.

SIR—This work which I present belongs to you, since all that is mine is yours. I have never been able to see you in the command of armies without thinking of war myself; and I could not believe that my study of fortifications would be agreeable to you, unless continued. If you deign to think well of these efforts of my mind and hand, I desire no other approbation of my labor, as I shall never have any other wish than to live and die in the obedience and respect due to you from him who is, sir,

Your very humble and very obedient son and servant,

LOUIS DE BOURBON.

Following this are eleven plans upon vellum of the strongholds of Burgundy, with remarks.

The great sieges which Condé undertook so successfully, particularly those of Thionville and of Dunkirk, are the admiration of military men. After his return to France in 1660, he was continually consulted upon all projects of fortification, and his name, as well as his opinions, appear in the official correspondence of the department of war, especially during 1664, 1670, and 1673, until 1675, when he retired from the service, and left Vauban to act alone. Fontenelle, in his eulogy of Sauveur, says, that it was in his frequent visits to Chantilly and in his conversations with Condé, that Sauveur conceived the idea of his treatise upon fortification.

[285] _History of the Wars and of the Negotiations which preceded the Treaty of Westphalia_, vol. iii., in-4ᵒ. To this work we must add the _Secret Negotiations touching the Peace of Munster and of Osnaburg, or General Collection of Preliminaries, Instructions, Letters, Memoirs, concerning these negotiations, from their commencement until their conclusion, in 1648_, 2 vol., in-fol., Hague, 1725. In vol. xxx. of the _Mélanges de Clérambault_, in the National Library, may be found a summary of all the correspondence of the French cabinet and of the embassy. We give a few extracts:

Year 1645.—June 3, Mazarin to M. de Longueville, complimenting him upon the interesting condition of his wife, and urging him to hasten his departure for Munster. Scarcely arrived, M. de Longueville writes to Mazarin, July 2, telling him that he has reconciled d’Avaux and Servien.

Year 1646.—June 22, Mazarin announces to M. de Longueville the departure of Madame de Longueville. July 24, M. de Longueville notifies Mazarin that he is going to meet Madame de Longueville. October 23, M. de Longueville thanks Mazarin for promising him the office of General of the Swiss.

Year 1647.—January 16, Mazarin to M. de Longueville: The king sends to him a gentleman, as well as to Madame de Longueville, announcing the death of M. the Prince. March 15, Mazarin to M. de Longueville, informing him that he cannot have the office of General of the Swiss, and offering him in lieu thereof the Château de Caen. March 25, M. de Longueville to the queen, in regard to the office of General of the Swiss. _Idem_, to Mazarin on the same subject. Dissatisfaction of M. de Longueville; he asks for his discharge; it is granted to him. May 17, M. de Longueville thanks Mazarin for the discharge which he has procured for him; he will not leave until the proper time. June 22, Mazarin complains to M. de Longueville of his last letter, in which he is charged with not desiring peace; he claims the contrary, and shows his resentment of the manner in which the Spaniards have acted. “France wishes peace, and will make it glorious.” July 1, M. de Longueville assures his Eminence that his letter is far from bearing the interpretation which he has placed upon it; that he does not know him, which compels him to desire leave to return to France. Same day, d’Avaux writes to Mazarin that he had no part in the letter of M. de Longueville. July 13, Mazarin to M. de Longueville: he is very glad that the intention of his letter is such as he claims; he desires nothing in the world more ardently than peace, and wishes that Pegnaranda (the Spanish ambassador) would leave Munster, that he might have an opportunity to take a trip to Paris. Same day, Mazarin testifies to d’Avaux the pleasure which he experiences in having an understanding with his friends. Same day, important dispatch from Mazarin to Servien, in which he discovers all his thoughts: Treaty with Germany, or, at least, a grant of a truce in the Low Countries. “If nothing was to be done in Flanders and in Germany, war could be easily carried on in Spain and in Italy.” July 22, M. de Longueville to Mazarin: The Swedes cannot be satisfied without giving them positive assurances of the establishment of Lutheranism. The Protestants propose to conclude without France. The departure of the Count de Trautmansdorf (imperial ambassador) with liberty to retire, of which he will avail himself as soon as possible. July 29, Mazarin begs M. de Longueville to defer his departure. August 9, Mazarin to M. de Longueville: How to treat with the Swedes. A gentleman of M. de Vandosme, carrying letters to the archduke, was arrested and conducted to Nancy. The Spaniards are far from peace. The King of Spain changes his manner of acting with the emperor. Trautmansdorf might have concluded something advantageous for Sweden at the expense of France. August 19, M. de Longueville to Mazarin: The Neapolitans have driven off the Spaniards. Pegnaranda will do nothing until the close of the campaign. He will take this time to visit his Eminence. August 30, Mazarin expresses to M. de Longueville some apprehensions as to the design of his journey. August 30, confidential letter from Lyonne to Servien: he begs him to discover the cabals that M. d’Avaux has made against his Eminence. Orders are given to M. de Turenne to abolish the name of Weimarians. The conclusion of peace must not be deferred on account of the absence of M. de Longueville. M. d’Avaux seeks the protection of M. the Prince and of M. the Duke d’Orleans. September 6, Mazarin to M. de Longueville: Good effects apparently produced by the delay of his journey. September 16, M. de Longueville complains of the delay of business; he recommends to Mazarin the Marshal de La Mothe (who has just been arrested). October 7, renewed solicitations of M. de Longueville in behalf of the Marshal de La Mothe. October 15, M. de Longueville to Mazarin: He fears that the Hollanders may conclude their treaty without France. The enemies have received, with singular joy, the news of the death of M. de Gassion (killed at Lens). October 18, Mazarin informs M. de Longueville of the promotion of seven cardinals, among whom is his brother, the Cardinal de Sainte-Cecile. October 29, M. de Longueville recommends the Prince de Conti for the siege of Trèves or of Liége. November 1, Mazarin informs M. de Longueville that all their dispatches have fallen into the hands of the Spaniards. November 8, Mazarin imparts to M. de Longueville a proposition of marriage from the emperor with Mademoiselle. (See the _Memoirs_ of Mademoiselle; also