La Grande Mademoiselle

The summer was barely over when Condé forced the Cardinal to sign a promise not to do any thing without his (Condé's) permission. Condé's imperious nature had driven him head long, and at that moment Monsieur's position depended upon his own activity. He had it in his power to sell support to the Crown; the Queen was on Change as a buyer. One step more and it would be d'Orléans against Condé with the Throne of France at his back! Monsieur's wife and Mademoiselle seldom agreed upon any subject, but they united in urging Monsieur to seize his opportunity. As usual, the household spies informed the people of the family discussions, and the popular balladists celebrated the aspirations of the ladies d'Orléans by a song which was sung all over Paris. France was represented as imploring Monsieur to save her from Condé, and Gaston was represented as answering:

… "I am sleepy! I would pass my life in sleep,Never have I a wish to be awakened:My wife, my daughter, you plead in vain,I sleep."146

Monsieur trembled with fear [wrote Retz]; at times it was impossible to persuade him to go to Parliament; he would not go even with Condé for an escort; the bare thought of it terrified him. When a paroxysm of fear seized him it was said that his Royal Highness was suffering from another attack of colic.

One day when several of his friends had, by their united efforts succeeded in getting him as far as the Saint Chapelle, he turned and ran back to his palace with the precipitation and the grimaces of a client of M. Purgon.147

Nothing could be done with Gaston; his conduct made Mademoiselle heart-sick. When the second or new Fronde took shape she had no part in it. She looked, on as a listless spectator, while Mazarin spun his web around his enemies and worked his way toward the old Fronde. Condé was marching on to a species of dictatorship when the King's minions brought him to a halt. He was arrested and cast into prison and the Parisians celebrated his disgrace by building bonfires (18th January). A great political party composed of women from all parts of France arose to champion Condé, and still the bravest of all women, La Grande Mademoiselle, sat with head bowed, deep in grief; her father's cowardice had drained life of its joy.

Having aroused the wrath of France by adventures which were the scandal of their hour, Mme. de Longueville had taken refuge in a foreign land and formed an alliance with Spain. France looked on bewildered by the turn of events; Mme. de Chevreuse and the Princess Palatine were in active life regarded as equals of men of State, consulted, and obeyed. Mme. de Montbazon had her own sphere of action; Mme. de Chatillon had hers148; both ladies were powerful and dangerous politicians. Others, by the dozen, and from one end of the kingdom to the other, were engaged in directing affairs of State.

Even the insignificant wife of Condé whom no one – not even her husband – had counted as worthy of notice, had reached the front rank at a bound by the upheaval of Bordeaux; yet La Grande Mademoiselle, who possessed the spirit and the energy of a man, was peremptorily ordered by her father and forced to follow Anne of Austria from province to province suppressing insurrections.

In the many months which Mademoiselle considered as unworthy of note in her memoirs, the only period of time well employed by her was passed in an attack of smallpox, which she received so kindly that it embellished her; she said of it: "Before then my face was all spotted; the smallpox took that all away."

Mme. de Longueville's alliance with Spain had cost France the invasion of the Archduke Leopold and de Turenne. In 1650 the Court went to the siege of Bordeaux and Mademoiselle was compelled to accompany the Queen and to appear as an adherent of the King's party; but before she set out upon her distasteful journey she wrote a letter to the invader (the Archduke Leopold) which she was not ashamed to record and which contained a frank statement of her opinion:

Your troops are more capable of causing joy than fear. The whole Court takes your arrival in good part, and your enterprises will never be regarded as suspicious. Do all that it pleases you to do; the victories that you are to win will be victories of benevolence and affection.149

Let us remember the nature of those victories of "benevolence and affection" before we form an opinion. Time has veiled with romance the manœuvres which the amazons of the Fronde made to excite the masses to rebellion, but the legend loses its glamour when we consider the brutal ferocity of the armies of the seventeenth century and the abominations practised in the name of glory. The women who shared the life of the generals of the Fronde were travesties of heroines, devoid of the gentler instincts of woman; there was nothing good in them; their imaginations were perverted, they incited their followers to cruelty, and playing with tigerish grace with the love of men, they babbled musically, in artful and well-turned sentences, of the questions of the day, and mocked and wreathed their arms above their heads when their victims were dying.

The Court arrived at Libourne 1st August and remained there thirty days. The weather was very warm, and the Queen secluded herself in her apartment and forced Mademoiselle to sit at her side working on her tapestry. Mademoiselle fumed; she was imprisoned like a child while all the ladies of France were engaged in military service. To add to her mortification, she felt that the Queen had taken a false step and that all Paris was laughing at the Court. Sitting in the Queen's close rooms, Mademoiselle reflected bitterly on her position. She had again entered into collusion with Saujon. The Emperor was for the second time a widower, and Mademoiselle had re-employed the services of her old ambassador. She had sent Saujon to the Emperor to make a second attempt to arrange a marriage. But she had not renounced the King of France, and one of her confidential friends had opened her eyes to the real character of her enterprise. Until then it had seemed natural enough that she should make efforts to establish herself in life; but through the officious indelicacy of her friend she had learned that she was pursuing two husbands at once. One of the objects of her pursuit was a man of ripe age, doubly widowed, the husband of two dead wives; the other a child of tender years, – and neither one nor the other would consent to marry her. She was glad to be far from Paris, where every one knew and pitied her. She burned incense to all her gods and prayed that civil war might keep the Parisians too busy to remember her. Her grief and shame were at their height when the scene changed. Monsieur awoke; Retz had worked a miracle. By means of his peculiar method, acting upon the principle of humanity's susceptibility to intelligent suggestion, Retz had persuaded Monsieur that he, Monsieur, was the only man in France fit to mediate between the parties; after long-continued series of efforts his clerical insinuations had aroused Gaston from his torpor, and one evening when the Queen, flushed and irritable, and Mademoiselle, dejected but defiant, sat at their needlework Gaston entered the dim salon and announced his importance. The trickster of the pulpit and of the slums had managed to infuse a little of his own spirit into the royal poltroon, and for the first time in his political career Gaston displayed some of the characteristics of a man. In an hour Bordeaux knew that the Prince d'Orléans had arrived in Libourne as the accredited mediator of the parties. The politicians fawned at his feet, and Anne of Austria rose effusively to do honour to Monsieur le Prince d'Orléans. By order of the Regent all despatches were submitted to Gaston, who passed upon them as best he could.

Mazarin rose to meet the situation; he was not bewildered by Retz's tactics; he affected to believe that Monsieur must be consulted upon all matters, and by his orders Monsieur's tables were littered with documents. Mazarin multiplied occasions for displaying his allegiance to the royal arbiter. Mademoiselle met the change in her situation joyfully, but calmly. It was the long-expected first smile of fortune; it was the natural consequence of her birth; things were entering their natural order; but she was observant and her mémoirs show us that she valued her incense at its real worth. While the political world bent the knee before Monsieur Mazarin fortified his own position. He sat with the ladies in the Queen's salon, he betrayed a fatherly solicitude in Mademoiselle's future and, as he acted his part, his enthusiasm increased. One day when he was alone with Mademoiselle he assured her that he had prayed long and earnestly for her establishment upon one of the thrones of the world. Sitting at her tapestry, Mademoiselle listened and averted her head to hide her anger. Mazarin, supposing that he had aroused her gratitude, exposed all his anxiety. Mademoiselle did not answer. At last, astonished by her silence, he cut short his declamation. Mademoiselle counted her stitches and snipped her threads; Mazarin watched her impassive face. After a long silence she arose, pushed aside her embroidery frame, and turning to enter her own apartment, she said calmly: "There is nothing upon earth so base that you have not thought of it this morning." Mazarin was alone; he sat with eyes fixed upon the floor, smiling indulgently, wrapt in thought; he was not angry, – he was never visibly excited to anger; but he did not return to the subject. Mademoiselle had resented his overtures because she had made known her projects freely and he had promised her a king, not an emperor. She reported the Cardinal's conduct to Lenet: "The Cardinal has promised me, a hundred times, that he would arrange to have me marry the King150– but the Cardinal is a knave!" The Queen said with truth that Mademoiselle was becoming a rabid Frondeuse. Mademoiselle had her own corps of couriers, who carried her the latest news from Paris; her court was larger than the Regent's. When Bordeaux was taken the people saw nothing and talked of nothing but Monsieur's daughter. Mademoiselle exultantly recorded her triumph:

"No one went to the Queen's, and when she passed in the streets no one cared at all for her. I do not know that it was very agreeable to her to hear that my court was large and that no one was willing to leave my house, when so few cared to go to her house."

While the Regent languished in solitude waiting for visitors who did not arrive her Minister received the rebuffs of the people of Bordeaux. The Queen was sick from chagrin, and as soon as arrangements could be made she returned to Paris. On the way to Paris the Court stopped at Fontainebleau. Gaston descended brusquely from his coach and as his foot touched the ground gave way to a violent outburst of nervous anger. Mazarin was the object of his fury; in some occult way the Cardinal had wounded his feelings. He fled to his room and locked his door, refusing to see either Mazarin or the Queen. As he stood his ground, and as no one could approach him, the Queen implored Mademoiselle to pacify him; and Mademoiselle, carrying her olive branch with a very bad grace, set out to play the part of dove in the ark. After many goings and comings, Monsieur consented to receive the Queen; but the Queen acidulated rather than sweetened the royal broth, and Monsieur broke away from her in a passion of fury. From that time all that Anne of Austria attempted to do failed; her evil hour was approaching. Mazarin had thought of two alternatives: he believed that he might buy Retz by making him a cardinal; or that he might win the good-will of Mademoiselle by marrying her to the King. But could he do either one thing or the other? Could he mortify his own soul by doing anything to give Retz pleasure? Retz was hateful to him.

Despite his powerful diplomatic capacity, Mazarin was not a politician, and some of his instincts bore a curious family resemblance to the characteristic instincts of the average woman; so although he believed that it would be possible to buy Retz with a red hat the thought of giving him the hat distressed him. So much for one of his alternatives!

As to marrying Mademoiselle to the King of France, – that would be difficult, if not impossible; the thought of such a marriage was repugnant to the King. Louis XIV. was wilful and the Queen was an indulgent mother. She pampered her children; she excused the King's failings. Mazarin was patient, but he had often considered Anne of Austria adverse to reason when the King was in question. The Cardinal was master of the Queen, but he was not, he never had been, he never could be, master of the Queen-mother.

In his extremity he resorted to his usual means, – intrigue; but he found that his power had waned. There were people who might have helped him, and who would have helped him in former times, but they had ceased to fear him; they demanded pay and refused to work without it. Mazarin was too normally natural a man to act against nature; he clung to his economies and as his supposititious agents refused to take their pay in "blessed water," his plans failed. His attempts were reported to his intended victims and before the sun set Mademoiselle of the Court and of the people, and the Abbé Retz of the Archbishopric and of the slums had arisen in their might against "the foreigner." Both of the leaders of the masses were implacable; each was powerful in his own way; both believed that they had been duped by the Archbishop's coadjutor; Retz had expected a hat; Mademoiselle had expected a husband; both, vowing vengeance to the death, turned their backs upon Mazarin. Mademoiselle had acquired the habit of suspicion; politics had given her new ideas; Retz had always been suspicious and he had prepared for every emergency. Mazarin, sitting in his perfumed bower, felt that the end was near. What was he? What had they always called him? "The stranger." … The whole world was against him … the nobles, the Parliaments … the old Fronde, the Fronde of the Princes! … Retz with his adjutants of the mobility! To crown his imprudence and to prove that he was more powerful as a lover than as a politician, Mazarin took the field at Rethel (15th December, 1650) and won the day; Turenne and his foreigners were beaten, and fear seized the people of France. An intriguer of that species could do anything! France was not safe in his presence; he must be driven out! During the Fronde it was common for women to dictate the terms of treaties. Anne de Gonzague, the Palatine Princess, whose only mandate lay in her eyes, her wit, and her bold spirit, drew up the treaty which followed Rethel, and the principal articles were liberty for the princes and exile for Mazarin.

Mademoiselle approved both articles before the treaty was signed. The times were full of possibilities for her; her visions of a marriage with Louis XIV. had been blurred by a sudden apparition. Condé had arisen in her dreams with a promise of something better. Might it not be wiser policy to unite the junior branches of the House of France? Might it not be more practical, more fruitful in results, to marry M. le Prince de Condé than to wage war against him? That he was a married man was of small importance. His wife, the heroine of Bordeaux, was in delicate health and as liable to die as any mortal; in the event of her death the dissent of the Opposition would be the only serious obstacle. Mademoiselle confided all her perplexities to her memoirs; she foresaw that the dissent of the Opposition would be ominous for the royal authority, and therefore ominous for the public peace. She reflected; Condé was a strong man; and who was stronger than the Granddaughter of France? She decided that they two, she and Condé, made one by marriage, might defy the obstacle. Mazarin knew all her thoughts, and he felt that the earth was crumbling under his feet; to quote Mademoiselle's own words: "He was quasi-on-his-knees" before her, offering her the King of France; but he made one condition: she must prevent her father's adhesion to the cause of M. le Prince.151 Anne of Austria, with eyes swimming in tears, presented herself humbly, imploring Mademoiselle, in the name of their ancient friendship, to soften Monsieur's heart to "Monsieur le Cardinal." The Queen begged Mademoiselle to make her father understand that she, the Queen, "could not refuse Monsieur anything should he render her such service." Mademoiselle was ready to burst with pride when she repeated the Queen's promise. A future as bright as the stars lay before her; for the first time and for the last time she had a reason for her dreams.

Monsieur was the recognised chief of the coalition against Mazarin, but he was afraid to act; he did not like to leave compromising traces; he resisted when it was necessary to sign his name. Knowing that the treaty uniting the two Frondes must be signed and that he must sign it, his political friends went in a body to the Luxembourg treaty in hand. Gaston saw them coming and tried to escape, but they caught him in the opening of a double door, and closing the two sides of the door upon his body, squeezing him as in a vise, they thrust a pen between his fingers; then holding a hat before him for the treaty to rest on, they compelled him to sign his name. An eye-witness said that "he signed it as he would have signed a compact with the devil had he feared to be interrupted by his good angel." A few weeks later Parliament demanded the release of the princes and the exile of Mazarin. Then Mademoiselle was given a vision which filled her cup of joy to overflowing.

I had intended [she wrote in her memoirs] to go to bed very early, because I had arisen very early that morning; but I did not do it, because just as I was undressing they came to tell me of a rumour in the city. My curiosity led me out upon the terrace of the Tuileries. The terrace looked out upon several sides. It was a very beautiful moonlight night and I could see to the end of the street.152 On the side toward the water was a barrier; some cavaliers were guarding the barrier to favour the departure of M. le Cardinal, who was leaving by way of La Conférence; the boatmen were crying out against his getting away; there were many valets and my violin players, who are soldiers, although that is not their profession. They were all trying to drive away the cavaliers, who were helping Mazarin to escape. Some pretty hot shots were fired.

At that same hour the Palais Royal was the scene of a drama. Mazarin was taking leave, and the Queen thought that she was looking upon him for the last time. The lovers who shared so many memories, and who must have had so many things to say before they parted, dared not, even for a moment, evade the hundreds of eyes fixed upon them. Mazarin could not conceal his grief; the Queen, though calm, was very grave. To the last moment the unhappy pair were forced to speak in such a way that the courtiers could not judge of their sorrow by their looks. At last it was over; the door closed upon Mazarin, and the wretched Queen was left among her courtiers. Mazarin hurried to his rooms, disguised himself as a cavalier, and went on foot out of the Palais Royal. Finding that the cavaliers and river-men were fighting on the quay, he turned into the rue de Richelieu and went away unmolested. It is known that before going to Germany he went to the prison of Havre and set the princes free. Eleven days after Mazarin took leave of the Queen Paris learned that Condé was en route and that he was to sup at the Luxembourg the following day. Mademoiselle knew that her new projects depended upon her first meeting with M. le Prince. She had sent the olive branch to his prison, but she did not know how he had received it. She awaited his coming at the Luxembourg. She said of that first interview:

Messieurs the Princes came into Madame's salon, where I was, and after they saluted they came to me and paid me a thousand compliments. M. le Prince bore witness in particular that he had been very much pleased when Guiteau assured him of my repentance for the great repugnance that I had felt for him. The compliments ended, we avowed the aversion that we had felt for one another. He confessed that he had been delighted when I fell sick of the smallpox, that he had passionately wished that I might be disfigured by it, and that I might be left with some deformity, – in short, he said that nothing could have added to the hatred that he felt for me. I avowed to him that I had never felt such joy as I felt when he was put in prison, that I had strongly wished that he might be kept there, and that I had thought of him only to wish him evil. This reciprocal enlightenment lasted a long time, and it cheered and amused the company and ended in mutual assurances of friendship.

During the interview the tumult of a great public fête was heard. At sight of Condé Paris had been seized by one of her sudden infatuations.

At the gates of the Palais Royal the masses mounted guard night and day to prevent the abduction of the King. It was generally supposed that the Queen would try to follow the Cardinal.

The Frondeurs were masters of Paris; their hour had come, and they held it in their power to prove that they had led France into adventures because they had formed a plan which they considered better than the old plan. But if there were any among them who were thinking of reform, their good intentions were not perceptible. The people of the past resembled the people of our day; they thought little of the public suffering. Interest in the actions of the great, or in the actions of the people whose positions gave them relative greatness, excluded interest in the general welfare. The rivalries and the personal efforts of the higher classes were the public events of France. Parliament was working along its own lines, hoping to gain control of the State, to hold a monopoly of reforms, and to break away from the nobility. The nobility, jealous of the "long robes," had directly addressed the nation's depths: the bourgeoisie and the mobility.

Retz had supreme hope: to be a Cardinal. Condé hoped to be Prime Minister. Gaston had staked a throw on all the games. Mme. de Longueville dreamed of new adventures; and the Queen, still guided by her far-off lover, laboured in her own blind way upon a plan to benefit her little brood. She looked upon France, upon the people, and upon the Court as enemies; she had concentrated her mind upon one object; she meant to deceive them all and turn events to her own advantage. By the grace of the general competition of egotism, falsehood, broken promises, and treason, the autumn of 1651 found the Spaniards in the East, civil war in the West, the Court in hot pursuit of the rebels, want and disease stalking the land, and La Grande Mademoiselle still in suspense. In the spring during a period of thirty-six hours she had supposed that she was about to marry Condé. Condé's wife had been grievously sick from erysipelas in the head; to quote Mademoiselle's words: "The disease was driven inward, which gave people reason for saying that were she to die I might marry M. le Prince."

At that critical moment Mademoiselle freely unfolded her hopes and fears; she said:

Madame la Princesse lingered in that extremity three days, and during all that time the marriage was the subject of my conversation with Préfontaine. We did not speak of anything else. We agitated all those questions. What gave me reason to speak of them was that, to add to all that I heard said, M. le Prince came to see me every day. But the convalescence of Madame la Princesse closed the chapter for the time being and no one thought of it any more.

In the course of the summer the Princess Palatine, who supposed that she could do anything because she had effected, or to say the least concluded the union of the Frondes, offered to marry Mademoiselle to the King "before the end of September." Mme. de Choisy, another prominent politician, exposed the conditions of the bargain to Mademoiselle, who recorded them in the following lucid terms:

Mme. de Choisy said to me: "The Princess Palatine is such a blatant beggar that you will have to promise her three hundred écus in case she makes your affair a success." I said "yes" to everything. "And," pursued Mme. de Choisy, "I wish my husband to be your Chancellor. We shall pass the time so agreeably, because la Palatine will be your steward; you will give her a salary of twenty thousand écus; she will sell all the offices in the gift of your house, – so you may imagine that it will be to her interest to make your affair succeed. We will have a play given at the Louvre every day. She will rule the King." Those were the words she used! One may guess how charmed I was at the idea of being in such a state of dependence! Evidently she thought that she was giving me the greatest pleasure in the world.