[Illustration:
ARISE ✤ PRAY ✤ WORK
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
BIOGRAPHICAL CATALOGUE
OF THE PORTRAITS AT PANSHANGER
THE SEAT OF EARL COWPER, K.G.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
BIOGRAPHICAL
CATALOGUE
OF THE PORTRAITS
AT PANSHANGER
THE SEAT OF
EARL COWPER, K.G.
✿
‘_A true delineation, even of the smallest
man, and his scene of pilgrimage through
life, is capable of interesting the
greatest man; for all men are to an
unspeakable degree brothers, each man’s
life a strange emblem of every man’s, and
human portraits faithfully drawn are, of
all pictures, the welcomest on human
walls._’ CARLYLE.
_LONDON: ELLIOT STOCK_
1885.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration]
TO
FRANCIS LORD COWPER
AND
KATRINE CECILIA HIS WIFE,
The Light of her Home,
THESE PAGES ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED
BY
MARY LOUISA BOYLE.
MICHAELMAS 1885.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration]
PREFACE
In the Biographical Sketches contained in this volume, I have pursued
the same system as in my two former Catalogues, of the Galleries of
Hinchingbrook and Longleat,—devoting especial attention to the immediate
members, or to personages in any way connected with the family in
question. In the historical characters, I have purposely made the
details of public and official life (which are elsewhere recorded)
subservient to those of a private and domestic nature, although it is
obvious that in some cases the two cannot be disentangled. In fact, I
have preferred painting my portraits in the costume worn at home, rather
than in robes of office and suits of armour. I have refrained from
mentioning the innumerable authorities to which I have had recourse, in
the British Museum and other Public and Private Libraries, from a dread
of adding to the weight of a volume already, I fear, too bulky. For help
in my labours, I am indebted to the noble owner of Panshanger himself,
for the able papers on Charles James Fox, Lord Melbourne, and the
brothers De Witt,—while the author of that delightful memoir, ‘Fifty
Years of my Life,’ so well known to the reading public, contributed the
interesting sketch of his ancestor, the first Earl of Albemarle.
The good services of Mr. Elliot Stock procured me the assistance of
Monsieur Charles Rueles, the learned Keeper of Manuscripts in the Royal
Library at Brussels, when at a loss for information regarding the
Marquez de Leganes, a commander little spoken of by English writers. On
the kindness of friends my impaired sight has compelled me to rely for
details of dress and descriptions of many of the portraits, and, on this
account, my especial thanks are due to a fair member of the Cowper
family. In other respects, the work, it may be ‘a poor thing, is mine
own,’ and, although in some respects arduous and difficult, I have found
it on the whole an undoubted labour of love.
M. L. B.
MICHAELMAS 1885.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration]
GALLERY.
[Illustration]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
GALLERY.
-------
_No. 1._
HENRI DE LA TOUR D’AUVERGNE, VICOMTE DE TURENNE.
_Equestrian Portrait, full size. Mounted on a dappled charger. Buff
jerkin. Ruff. Embroidered sleeves. White scarf. Plumed hat._
BORN 1611, KILLED IN ACTION 1675.
BY REMBRANDT.
HE was the second son of the Duke de Bouillon, by Elizabeth of Nassau,
daughter of William the Silent and Charlotte de Montpensier. De Bouillon
was attached in early life to Henry the Fourth, King of France and
Navarre, who spoke of him as ‘my lieutenant, my friend, and comrade.’
The Duke was a soldier, diplomat, politician, and man of letters; and,
moreover, founder of the Academy at Sedan, which became the resort of
all the youthful nobility and chivalry of Europe.
The Duke was one of the chief leaders of the Calvinistic party, and in
their tenets he brought up his two sons, the Prince de Sedan and the
Vicomte de Turenne. When the education of the elder was completed, he
went to Holland to learn the art of war, under his uncle Maurice, Prince
of Orange, while Henry continued his studies at home. In early childhood
his constitution was far from robust, which inclined the Duke to destine
him for some civil employment; but the little Vicomte had set his whole
heart on being a soldier, and he was resolved to prove to his father
that the decision he had come to was ill-founded. He took, in
consequence, rather an ingenious method of manifesting his health and
strength. One evening the boy contrived to elude the vigilance of his
governor, who spent hours of anxious search, and never discovered the
truant till the next morning, on the ramparts of the town. On the
carriage of a cannon, where he had passed the whole night, lay the
little fellow, smiling in his calm sleep over the dreams which had
visited his iron pillow,—visions, in all probability, of the daring
exploits of some of his beloved heroes of antiquity, or some brilliant
foretaste of his own future glory. But a still more characteristic
anecdote is told of Turenne’s boyhood. He took great delight in
lecturing, as it were, to a group of admiring listeners, on the merits
of his favourite historian, Quintus Curtius, or the mighty deeds of
Alexander the Great. In such moments his eye would kindle, his whole
face brighten, and he would overcome that hesitation of speech under
which he laboured in calmer moments. One eventful day an officer (of
mature years), who was in the company, ventured to speak disparagingly
of Henry’s favourite historian, and even to question his veracity! This
was too much for the impetuous boy; he waxed wroth, and answered the
attack with indignation, to the infinite amusement of his mother, who
was present. She made a sign to the officer to prosecute the argument,
till the Vicomte de Turenne, with all the offended dignity of his ten
years, left the room in a towering passion, and the same evening
challenged the officer to mortal combat. The ‘cartel’ was carried to the
Duchess, who was much delighted with this early development of her son’s
military ardour. The challenge was of course accepted, the place of
rendezvous settled, and thither the small hero hastened the next
morning, ‘his soul in arms, and eager for the fray.’ To his surprise he
found his mother on the ground, and the officer by her side, while on
the green turf at their feet was spread a goodly banquet. The Duchess
advanced with a smile, and embracing her son told him she had come to
act as second to his antagonist, but that they must first breakfast,
upon which the three sat down, together with the gentlemen of the hunt,
who were also there assembled, and during the repast, as may easily be
believed, peace was concluded, the honour of the young firebrand
appeased, and an exhilarating gallop put an end to all discord.
Henry was only twelve when his father died; he remained a year longer at
home, during which time he showed a far greater taste for athletic and
military exercises than for sedentary studies; above all, he delighted
in horsemanship, and the more unmanageable the steed, the more willingly
would Henry mount it. Hearing that the Comte de Roussy (afterwards his
brother-in-law) had brought a charger from Paris that was considered
wild and vicious, he never rested till he had it saddled, and leaped on
its back, in spite of the expostulations of the whole household. In a
short time the juvenile Alexander returned from his triumphant ride,
having tamed the modern Bucephalus! When thirteen, the Duchess sent him
to join his brother at the Court of the Stadtholder; Maurice received
him graciously, but insisted on his entering the army as a private
soldier. The Prince died a very short time after Turenne’s arrival in
Holland, but the youth had already imbibed those lessons of military
tactics, and that reverence for discipline, which, added to his own
talents and aptitude for the service, stood him in good stead his life
long. Henry Frederic, Maurice’s successor as Stadtholder and
commander-in-chief, continued his protection to Turenne, and gave him
the command of a regiment of infantry, which soon became a model of
discipline. Under his uncle’s auspices, the young soldier now commenced
active service; in 1629 he distinguished himself more especially at the
siege of Bois-le-Duc, a fortress known as La Pucelle de Brabant.
It is not our intention to make a list of the military exploits of this
great man, whose campaigns in Lorraine, Italy, Germany, etc., would fill
many volumes, and indeed form part of the history of France, or rather
of Europe. While his brilliant victories, his skilful retreats, and, for
the most part, his successful diplomatic negotiations, established his
lasting fame, we shall only enumerate those which are necessary to a
narrative of this nature. In the early days of which we are now
speaking, Turenne’s valour and thirst for enterprise were so remarkable
that Prince Henry Frederic deemed it advisable to reprimand the young
soldier for his rashness, with (it may be conceived) but ill-concealed
admiration for his prowess. The Prince said one day to some officers who
were standing near him, ‘If I mistake not, Turenne will one day rival
our greatest captains in fame and glory.’ Turenne remained five years in
the service of Holland, when his mother, who had been engaged in
political negotiations with France, sent him to that country, where the
King and his Prime Minister, Cardinal Richelieu, received him most
graciously, and gave him the command of a regiment of foot in the French
army. At the siege of La Motte he mounted the walls in person, and
carried the bastion, for which he was rewarded with the bâton of a
field-marshal—a grade only second to that of Marshal of France,—being an
honour almost unheard of for a young man of three-and-twenty. His
humanity was equal to his valour. During the privations and hardships of
the retreat from Mayence in 1635, the Marshal exerted himself to the
utmost to alleviate suffering. He caused many of the valuable contents
of his own baggage-wagons to be thrown away, in order to provide room
for the weary and wounded; he shared his own provisions with the common
soldiers, consoling and helping all those who were in need, without
distinction of rank or nationality. Never slackening for one moment in
his military duties, which he pursued with untiring zeal, at the siege
of Saverne, foremost, as usual, in mounting the breach, his arm was
struck by a musket-ball, and for some time it was believed amputation
must ensue. The recovery was slow and tedious, but long before it was
complete the Marshal had resumed his duties.
In 1638 he became a lieutenant-general, on being sent to the relief of
Duke Bernhard of Saxe-Weimar, with whom an alliance had been formed by
France. In 1646 he returned to Paris, to the Court, where the Prime
Minister, Cardinal Mazarin, whose recognition of his great services had
hitherto been but lukewarm, was loud in his commendation, and offered
him the Duchy of Château Thierry, and the hand of one of his beautiful
and well-dowered nieces; but Turenne refused all these offers, from the
conviction that some of the conditions therein involved would prove
prejudicial to the interests of his brother, the Duke de Bouillon, to
whom he was warmly attached. He was defeated by the Comte de Mercy, in
command of the Bavarians at Mariendal, but made a most skilful retreat,
and by the side of the Prince de Condé took his revenge at the battle of
Nordlingen, where Mercy was routed, and received his death-wound. This
brave general was buried near the place where he fell, and his tomb bore
this inscription: _Sta, Viator, Heroem Calcas_. Turenne then marched to
join the Swedish General Wrangel, the friend and comrade of the great
Gustavus Adolphus, in Hesse, and was preparing for fresh warfare when
the signing of the Treaty of Westphalia gave peace to Central Europe,
concluding the Thirty Years War. A most flattering letter to the Vicomte
de Turenne was written by the Elector of Mayence, the Duke of
Würtemberg, and many other Princes and Ambassadors, attributing this
happy event as much to his military exploits as to the efforts of the
Plenipotentiaries.
France did not long enjoy the blessings of peace for civil war was now
about to shed its baneful influence over the land. Anne of Austria, the
Queen-Mother and Regent (during Louis the Fourteenth’s minority), was
almost entirely under the influence of her Prime Minister, Cardinal
Mazarin, who was very unpopular with the Parliament and the greater part
of the French nation. The successes of the English Parliamentarian
troops over those of the Royalists, and the downfall of the Monarchy,
had given a strong impetus to the anti-Court party in France, and a
faction was formed, well known in history as the ‘Fronde.’
This nickname was given to the party who were opposed to the policy of
the Queen-Regent, Anne of Austria, and her favourite and adviser,
Cardinal de Mazarin, whose measures they condemned as unjust and
oppressive. One of the principal adherents was the Cardinal de Retz, or
Coadjutor, as he was called, a turbulent and intriguing spirit; but it
soon numbered among its members the most important and noble names in
France. The designation of _Frondeurs_ was given by a contemporary
writer, from the word _Fronde_,—_Anglicè_, a sling. He likened the
malcontents to boys who went about the streets slinging stones, till put
to flight by the appearance of any officer of the law. By degrees the
faction assumed a much more imposing form, and though the name remained,
it had certainly lost its significance. Discontent increased every day,
the people clamoured for redress of grievances, and deputations flocked
to Parliament to entreat the interference of the members against the
oppressions of the Court. The Parliament was divided into three
different factions,—the Frondeurs aforesaid, the Mazarinists, who
supported the Cardinal, and the Modérés, who blamed the _ultra_ views of
both parties. Three members in particular rose up as champions of the
oppressed, and so incensed the Queen by their seditious language, that
she caused them to be arrested. This was the signal for open revolt:
shops were closed, streets blocked, barricades formed, and the liberty
of ‘the fathers of the people,’ as they were called, loudly and
insolently demanded. Anne of Austria showed courage and determination,
arguing that compliance would be a fatal admission of weakness; but the
Duke of Orleans and the Cardinal, alarmed for their own safety and
property, overruled her decision. The captives were released, and the
Court departed hastily to St. Germains, a step which was designated as
‘l’enlèvement du Roi.’ The popular party was triumphant, and the
Cardinal de Retz, considering it a favourable opportunity, exerted
himself to gain proselytes, and the malcontents soon numbered among
their adherents such men as the Dukes de Bouillon, de Lorraine, de
Beaufort, de Longueville, de la Rochefoucauld, and the Prince de Conti,
brother of the great Condé, with many others. They were also rich in
noble female partisans, ‘les héroines de la Fronde.’ Beauty, birth, and
talent swelled the list of the fair conspirators,—Mademoiselle de
Montpensier, ‘la grande demoiselle,’ as she was called,—the Duchesses de
Chevreuse and de Bouillon, the Princess Palatine, and last, but least in
no sense of the word, the Duchesse de Longueville. When Anne of Austria
deserted her post at Paris, a rival in power, a superior in youth and
beauty, reigned for a time paramount in her stead,—the charming despot
of an elective monarchy.
Anne Généviève de Bourbon was at one time so nearly connected with the
fortunes of Turenne that we are tempted to give some details respecting
her eventful life. Her father was Henry, Prince de Condé (or ‘Monsieur
le Prince,’ as the head of that illustrious house was always called),
her mother the beautiful Charlotte de Montmorency, daughter of the Grand
Connétable of that name. They were both imprisoned in the Château de
Vincennes, where their daughter was born in the year 1618. Mademoiselle
de Bourbon was educated at the Convent of the Carmelites, where she
showed a decided bias towards the vocation of a recluse, and a
corresponding aversion to the idea of a life at Court, or in the great
world. A very short experience, however, of admiration and success
entirely changed her views, and she became one of the most lovely
_précieuses_ of the Hôtel Rambouillet. The cynosure of all eyes, a crowd
of suitors clustered round her, none of whom found favour in the sight
of her parents, till the Duc de Longueville presented himself. He was
her senior by many years, and still under the influence of a former
mistress, the Duchesse de Montbazon; but he came of an illustrious
family, and was not far removed from the rank of a prince of the
blood-royal; and Mademoiselle de Bourbon had the paternal commands laid
upon her to receive him as her bridegroom. At first she showed the
greatest possible repugnance to the marriage, but there was no
alternative; and she walked to the altar, radiant in beauty, and
gorgeously attired, assuming a cheerfulness of demeanour which belied
the feelings of her heart. From that time forward the young Duchess gave
herself up to a system of cold-blooded coquetry, which had most
disastrous results. We quote an eloquent description from the pages of
her biographer, Ville Flore: ‘Un an s’était à peine écoulé, que la
blanche robe de la jeune mariée avait déjà des táches de sang, et que
sans même avoir donné son cœur elle faisait naître involontairement la
plus tragique querelle, oû Coligny perissait à la fleur de l’âge par la
main d’un de ces Guises, auquel elle avoit été un moment destinée.
Prélude sinistre des orages qui l’attendaient.’ Adorers crowded round
her, poets sang her praises, novels were written of which she was the
peerless heroine, and still Généviève de Longueville proceeded on her
triumphal march, careless and fancy-free, making conquest after
conquest, creating cabals and jealousies that became political
feuds,—the Court now taking part against, now with, the beautiful syren.
‘Mais on ne badine pas éternellement avec l’amour.’
M. de Masillac (or as we will call him by his better-known title, the
Duc de la Rochefoucauld, to which he shortly succeeded), who had once
been loved, and was now hated, by Anne of Austria, laid siege to the
fortress which had held out so long, and carried the heart of the
Duchesse de Longueville by storm. Witty, handsome, cynical, reserved,
and self-contained, with a reputation already established for valour and
intellect, La Rochefoucauld soon gained a complete ascendency over this
daughter of the proud house of Condé.
He was a man who, for the most part, practised what he preached and
expounded in his world-famed ‘Maxims,’ and whose character, drawn by his
own pen, showed how the head preponderated over the heart in his
composition. That he admired the Duchess there can be no doubt:—
‘Pour mériter son cœur,
Pour plaire à ses beaux yeux,
J’ai fait la guerre aux rois,
Je l’aurais fait aux dieux.’
But his first advances were unquestionably made in cold blood, and it
was in the hope of gaining proselytes to the cause of the Fronde that he
desired the alliance and co-operation of this beautiful woman. Touched
and flattered by the simulated passion of so remarkable a man, the
Duchess gave herself up, heart and soul, to her lover, obedient to his
every wish, submissive to his every direction. She forgot her pride of
birth and position, her marriage vows, and the tender affection which
had hitherto bound her to her elder brother. Let us hear how the man for
whom she made such sacrifices speaks of her in the early days of their
_liaison_: ‘Ses belles qualités étaient moins brillantes à cause d’une
tâche qui ne s’est jamais vue en une princesse de ce mérite, qui est,
que bien loin de donner la loi à ceux qui avaient une particulière
adoration pour elle, elle se transformait si fort dans leurs sentimens
qu’elle ne reconnaissait point les siens propres.’ And so he despised
the very quality for which he had wooed her,—a palpable moral!
Madame de Motteville testifies that ambition had little part in Madame
de Longueville’s proceedings. She was only ambitious for her lover,—‘qui
étoit peut-être plus intéressé qu’il n’était tendre.’ Among her
proselytes she gained over her younger brother to the cause; her husband
also was nothing loath to join the Fronde. But La Rochefoucauld, when he
thought to win the great Condé through the medium of his sister, had
reckoned without his host. Madame de Longueville used all her powers of
persuasion, vainly appealing to the tender memories of home and
childhood, but Condé was implacable. He upbraided his sister with her
dishonour, expressed his aversion to La Rochefoucauld, and joined the
Court at St. Germains, where he assumed the command of the troops that
had remained faithful to the King, and shortly afterwards marched upon
Paris to attack the Frondeurs, who had named his brother, the Prince de
Conti, their ‘Generalissimo.’ Now the Duchesse de Longueville had
excused herself from joining her mother, the Princesse de Condé, who was
at St. Germains in attendance on the Queen, on the plea of her
approaching confinement. But the delicacy of her situation did not
prevent her acting under the orders of her despotic lover. She shared
all the perils and hardships of her friends the Frondeurs, assisted at
the parades and reviews of the troops and the civic guard, took part in
all the military discussions, and in fact transformed the Hôtel de
Longueville into a barrack.
In this state of strife and discord both sides concurred in the
advisability of gaining over Marshal Turenne to their interests, and he,
being now in command of the French army in Germany, received the most
flattering letters from the Queen and her Minister. Mazarin was profuse
in his offers of civil and military aggrandisement; renewing the
proposal of an alliance with his richly-dowered niece at the same time
that he complained to Turenne of the disloyalty of his brother, the Duc
de Bouillon.
The Marshal’s answer was manly and straightforward to all these
flattering advances. He wrote respectfully indeed, but said this was not
a moment for men to think of their own personal advancement. He
regretted the disaffection of his brother, and deeply deplored the
troubles that reigned in France; he stigmatised the blockade of Paris as
a most dangerous step, declined with courteous thanks the offer of the
matrimonial alliance on the score of difference of religion, and told
his Eminence plainly that, if he continued to oppress the people, he
(Turenne) could no longer hold out to him the hand of friendship;
moreover, that on his return to France, at the head of his troops
(according to orders from headquarters), he was resolved neither to
favour the revolt of Parliament nor the injustice of the Minister. It
was reserved for the seductive arts of a syren to lead the hero astray
from the straight path he had chalked out for himself.
The Duchesse de Longueville had already made a deep impression on the
proverbially susceptible heart of the Vicomte de Turenne. About the time
of the signing of the Treaty of Westphalia, when she joined her husband
at Münster, the hero had on that occasion held a review of all the
troops under his command to do honour to the beautiful sister of his
former brother in arms, the Prince de Condé.
But to return to the time of which we are treating: the Marshal
assembled his soldiers, and made them a formal address, in which he
expressed his regret at the state of affairs in France, and assured them
that on their return he would use all his influence to persuade the King
to go back to Paris, and to take measures for checking the
maladministration of the Cardinal. He would also use his best endeavours
to obtain the pay (with considerable arrears) that was owing to the
troops, both French and auxiliary; and, not content with spoken words,
he published a manifesto to the same effect. The Regency, indignant at
Turenne’s independent manner of proceeding, and confident that they
could not reckon on his co-operation, caused him to be superseded in his
command; and to reconcile the soldiers (with whom he was very popular)
to this step, they sent them out considerable sums of money. Turenne
calmly resigned his post, exhorted the men to loyalty and obedience, and
repaired with some friends and followers to Holland, there to await more
peaceful times. Before long the Court and the malcontents came to terms
by what was called the Peace of Ruel. Deputies from both sides met and
negotiated, an amnesty was proclaimed, posts and governments were
offered to the chief Frondeurs, and concessions of all kinds served out,
as sops to the disaffected.
The wily Cardinal knew his world. Turenne had little ambition, in the
common acceptation of the word, no greed of gold or worldly advancement,
as to office, or the like; but his pride of birth was a ruling passion,
and dearly did he love anything that tended to the glorification of his
family.
To his brother, as head of the house, he paid a species of obedience, as
to a suzerain,—a line of conduct he pursued towards his nephew, though
still a youth, on succeeding to the title. All these things considered,
it is not to be wondered at that Turenne was delighted when he received
the news that patents had been granted to himself and his brother (with
other concessions to the elder), entitling them and their descendants to
the dignities and privileges of Princes of the blood-royal. He hastened
back to Paris, and was received by the Cardinal with outward signs of
welcome. But breakers were ahead. The peace was a hollow one, leaving
both parties in much the same condition: the Cardinal and the Parliament
each preserving authority as before,—the one over the Court, the other
over the people. The Prince de Condé was always at issue with the
Minister, whom he treated with ill-concealed contempt; and his Eminence,
wearied and perplexed by the exigencies and requirements of the great
man, and maddened by his sarcasms, plotted his ruin.
The Duchesse de Longueville, who watched all passing events with
vigilance, chose this opportunity to renew her overtures of
reconciliation to her brother; and she not only succeeded in so doing,
but persuaded Monsieur le Prince to give in a half-and-half adhesion to
the cause of the Fronde, in which party he had many friends, and perhaps
more enemies.
Among the most inveterate of the latter was the Cardinal de Retz, at
this moment on friendly terms with the Court; and it was by the joint
arrangement of the two Churchmen that a step was taken which rekindled
the torch of public discord. The Queen-Regent had also lately been much
incensed against the Prince de Condé, who had shown himself wanting in
respect and deference to her Majesty; and petty intrigues of all kinds
were at work against him.
On the 18th of January 1650, as the Princes of Condé, Conti, and the Duc
de Longueville entered the Royal Council-chamber, they were arrested,
and sent off without a moment’s delay to the Château de Vincennes. This
step caused a panic among their friends, who dispersed in all
directions. The Duchesse de Longueville left Paris by night with a large
escort, headed by her adorer, the Duc de la Rochefoucauld, and repaired
to Normandy, to raise the inhabitants of the province against the King,
in which undertaking, however, she was unsuccessful. Turenne took his
way to Stenai, a stronghold belonging to the Prince de Condé, and openly
avowed his indignation at the imprisonment of the Princes.
‘On prétend’—we again quote his _Mémoires_—‘que l’amour pour la sœur eût
autant de part aux fausses démarches du vicomte que l’amitié pour le
frère.’ Be this as it may, he was soon joined by the Duchess; and in
answer to all the flattering missives sent him by the Cardinal, and the
offers of high military commands and the like, he declared his
determination not to return to his allegiance until the Princes were set
at liberty. He also wrote to the Queen, expostulating with her on the
step she had taken, and pointing out that such a man as the great Condé
was far more worthy her confidence, on account of his birth and
character, and the military services he had rendered his Sovereign, than
the Cardinal, who was an object of aversion to the country at
large,—arguments which had no effect on the Royal mind. It appears that
the Duchess was not as grateful to Turenne as he had hoped, her
_liaison_ with the Duc de la Rochefoucauld interfering with the
Marshal’s claim; but so great an adept in the arts of coquetry doubtless
knew how to keep her most valuable ally betwixt hope and despair for
some time. He had certainly transferred his loyalty from Queen Anne to
Queen Généviève, for the Duchess gave herself all the airs of a
sovereign—levying an army, publishing manifestoes, and even concluding
treaties. She sold her diamonds, an example which was followed by the
obedient Marshal, who disposed of his splendid silver plate in order to
raise troops. He collected together all those who adhered sufficiently
to the Princes to serve in their behalf, together with those over whom
he exercised a personal influence,—some of whom he received into the
citadel, and others he stationed round the walls of Stenai. These were
soon dispersed by the Royal troops, and Turenne, finding himself reduced
to straits, listened once more to the suggestions of his evil genius,
and under her auspices concluded a treaty with the Spaniards, in order
to obtain money and auxiliaries to assist in the deliverance of the
captives. The Marshal did not take a step so foreign to his nature
without regret, and indeed remorse, and the treaty was concluded with
many stringent conditions.
He again wrote to the Queen, pointing out to her the horrors of a war
which would be cruel, for that her son would be opposed to his subjects
on the one hand, and to her own brother on the other; but she paid no
heed to his advice. He therefore placed himself at the head of the
Spaniards, and commenced a march which was for a while successful,
besieging and carrying many places of importance.
But his foreign troops caused him great trouble and annoyance, refusing
to obey his commands, or to march on Vincennes. He was defeated with
great loss at the battle of Rhetel, in spite of his personal valour,
which never failed, and he felt this disaster acutely. It is related of
him that, some time afterwards, being asked by a flippant young officer
how it chanced that he lost the battles of Mariendal and Rhetel, he
replied with calm dignity, ‘By my own fault.’
Still bent on the deliverance of the Princes, Turenne was about to
proceed to Vincennes without the assistance of the Spaniards; but the
prisoners had been already removed elsewhere.
Hopes of peace began to dawn on the distracted country. The Ducs de la
Rochefoucauld and de Bouillon, the Princesse de Condé and her young son,
who had been leagued together against the Court, now tendered their
submission, and repaired to the Royal camp at Bourg in person, pledging
themselves in future not to take arms against the King. These proud
spirits carried their newly-born loyalty so far, that, on entering the
presence of their Majesties, they knelt down to solicit pardon.
‘La reine les reçut avec bonté, et le Cardinal Mazarin leur donna à
dîner.’ But the release of the Princes was not to be effected without
cabals and intrigues of all kinds. The Queen was hardly pressed on the
subject, and at length she was compelled to dismiss her Minister, and to
promise pardon to the captives. The Marshal de Grammont was named as the
bearer of the good tidings to Condé and his companions, but the Cardinal
stole a march on him, and contrived to appropriate all the honour of the
transaction, by forestalling De Grammont’s journey.
He repaired to Havre, where the Princes were now imprisoned, entered
their presence, and, offering them the hand of friendship, announced
to them that they were at liberty. They then dined together (for it
seemed a hobby of Mazarin’s to cement a reconciliation at the
banqueting-table), after which his Eminence departed for Cologne,
while the Princes took their way to Paris. Here they were received
with acclamations, and bonfires were lighted in honour of their
release,—a similar demonstration having been made the year before to
commemorate their imprisonment!
The Duke of Orleans, the Duc de Beaufort, the Cardinal de Retz himself,
were all loud in their professions of welcome and friendship, and there
was much embracing on the occasion. Turenne, on learning the news,
returned to Stenai, whence he wrote to the Prince de Condé, begging him
to use his newly-regained influence with the Court to bring about an
honourable peace with Spain.
Condé’s answer was eloquent of gratitude and friendship, and, in
accordance with the Marshal’s wish, a Parliamentary counsellor was sent
to Stenai with powers to negotiate. He was also bearer of a letter from
the King to the Vicomte de Turenne, wherein Louis offered a free pardon
to the Marshal, and all those who had taken arms with him against the
Crown, on condition they returned to their allegiance. The letter
concluded with these words: ‘J’ai la bonne volonté pour ce qui regarde
votre personne, et les intérêts de votre maison, et je prie Dieu, mon
cousin, qu’il vous ait en sa sainte et digne garde.—LOUIS.’
This was followed by the exchange that had so long been talked of,—the
town of Sedan for places of far greater importance, and many
advantageous concessions to the house of De Bouillon.
Turenne failed in his mediation between France and Spain, and having
found the King of the last-named country unreasonable in his demands, he
gave up the attempt and returned to Paris.
Discovering that it was the intention of the Princes to give him a
public reception, Turenne defeated their intentions by arriving a day
sooner than was expected, for he considered that it would be incongruous
to make a triumphal entry into the capital of the kingdom when he had so
lately been in arms against the Sovereign.
No sooner had he arrived than Condé made him overtures and propositions
of all kinds, and did all in his power to induce the Marshal to enter
into his political views, which were of a most ambitious character.
Turenne answered him firmly. He was now perfectly satisfied, he said,
and he only required, from the gratitude of Condé, that the troops who
had fought in his behalf should have good and healthy quarters for the
winter; for he never forgot to plead the cause of his soldiers. The
brothers Condé and Conti were soon again at issue with the Court, and
engaged in seditious warfare, while Cardinal Mazarin re-entered France
at the head of an armed force, upon which the Duke of Orleans once more
revolted from his allegiance. Turenne joined the King and Queen at
Saumur, where he was offered (and did not refuse, as many in his place
would have done) the command of the army, in conjunction with a Marshal
of very short standing, D’Hocquincourt. One of the Vicomte’s most daring
exploits took place at Gergeau, then in possession of the rebel forces,
the taking of which was owing to his own personal skill and courage, and
was reckoned so important, that, on his return, the Queen, in the
presence of the assembled Court, acknowledged that he had saved the
Monarchy! Every tongue was loud in his praise; and yet, in speaking of
the matter in a letter to his sister, the only allusion he makes to the
whole affair is in these words: ‘Il s’est passé quelque chose à Gergeau
qui n’est pas de grande considération.’ Later on, when the Prince de
Condé was approaching Gien (where the King held Court) with rapid
strides, after gaining considerable advantages over the Marshal
D’Hocquincourt, Turenne made head against him with a force vastly
inferior in numbers.
It was a moment of imminent peril for the Court: Cardinal Mazarin, who
had once more joined the King and Queen, watched the movements of the
two armies with great anxiety, constantly despatching couriers to learn
the last tidings; but Anne of Austria manifested her usual calm,
‘tranquille à sa toilette et à son dîner elle ne donnoit aucune marque
de crainte, quoique on avoit déjà commencé à défendre son appartement.’
Then came the welcome news that Turenne was victorious, and the Prince
de Condé in retreat. Another enthusiastic welcome awaited the Vicomte,
and again the Queen thanked him for having once more replaced the crown
on the head of her son.
Cardinal Mazarin wrote an elaborate account of the proceedings of the
memorable day, in which he blamed the Marshal D’Hocquincourt for having
withstood the advice of his noble colleague; but the generous-hearted
Turenne insisted on the passage being erased, ‘for,’ said he, ‘I am most
unwilling that any fresh mortification should be heaped on the man who
was already sufficiently distressed by several failures.’
Henrietta, Queen of England, was now residing in France, where she had
taken refuge during the Protectorate, and was joined by her sons, King
Charles and James, Duke of York, who, in those early days of his career,
was a soldier at heart. He had a profound admiration for Marshal
Turenne, whose camp he joined, and was present at many of the
engagements which took place at that time between the Royal and the
rebel army, Turenne always treating the exiled Prince with the utmost
consideration and kindness; and the Duke of York was more than once
employed as a mediator between the opposing armies. Turenne pursued the
Prince de Condé on his march towards Paris, coming up with him in the
Faubourg St. Antoine, close to the capital. The Cardinal was so
persistent in his desire that Turenne should here attack Monsieur le
Prince, and that the Royal troops should commence the attack, that he
overruled the Marshal’s wish to await the arrival of reinforcements. And
so it chanced that, from a neighbouring height, as from an amphitheatre,
the King, his Minister, and the whole Court, became spectators of one of
the bloodiest encounters that ever cursed a civil war.
‘Jamais,’ says the biographer of Turenne, ‘action ne fut disputée avec
une valeur plus continuée, et plus opiniâtre. Les deux généraux, tout
couverts de sang, et toujours exposés aux feux des mousquetaires, qui
tiroient de maison à droite et à gauche, combattirent souvent vis à vis
l’un d’autre, à la portée du pistolet. La fureur martiale de l’un, et le
sangfroid de l’autre, faisoient un contraste, dont le spectacle excitoit
l’admiration et la terreur.’
After many fluctuations on one part and the other, the Prince de Condé’s
army was hemmed in, and must have been cut to pieces had not the
Parisians, seeing his danger, opened the gates, and received the rebels
within their walls, while the cannon began playing on the Royal army, by
command of the King’s own cousin, Mademoiselle de Montpensier. So hot
was the fire, and so close the quarters, that Turenne was obliged to
abandon his desire of pursuing the enemy within the walls. Disorder and
tumult reigned in Paris, and a terrible massacre took place at the Hôtel
de Ville.
The Court, by the Marshal’s advice, repaired to Pontoise, and he himself
to Compiègne; and it was chiefly through his instrumentality that the
Spanish troops were at length obliged to evacuate France, and retreat to
Flanders. A sad affliction was in store for the hero about this time, in
the death of his brother, the Duc de Bouillon, to whom he was fondly
attached. But he was not a man to allow sorrow to interfere with duty.
The ill feeling that was still rife against the Cardinal Minister
continued to be used as a pretext for revolt and rebellion of all kinds.
Turenne went in person one day, and had a long and confidential
conversation with Mazarin, in which he pointed out, in the most emphatic
manner, that it was incumbent upon him (the Minister) to make at least a
temporary sacrifice for the good of the King, his master, and the
country in general. This, urged the Marshal, would be effected by his
absenting himself, for a time at least. His arguments prevailed. Mazarin
consented to leave France, but in so doing he made his own conditions.
The King (who was directed to say he ‘only gave in to the plan of
dismissing his faithful Minister in order to pacify his people’)
received a paper from the Cardinal, in which directions were drawn up
for his own conduct; and His Majesty was further instructed to place two
of his Eminence’s most devoted adherents at the head of affairs. After
this was done, Mazarin, strong in the conviction that the Queen would
soon recall him, took his way to Bouillon. But Condé and the Duc de
Lorraine still continued to harass the kingdom, and peace seemed still
far off; it was again by Turenne’s advice that the Court was induced to
proceed once more to Paris, where the Marshal assured Louis that the
Parisians, being wearied by the unsettled state of affairs, would gladly
welcome him. Accordingly the Court set out; but as the cortége
approached the Bois de Boulogne, they were met by a deputation, the
members of which pointed out in the most formidable colours the danger
which his Majesty would incur in entering Paris, where those
arch-rebels, the Duke of Orleans, and Mademoiselle de Montpensier, his
daughter, were caballing to incite the people against him. The royal
coach came to a stand-still, and Anne of Austria, with her accustomed
energy and promptness, made the ladies who were inside alight, and
summoning the Vicomte de Turenne, the Marshals De Villeroi, Du Plessis,
and others, she held an open-air council. Every one, with the exception
of Turenne, was of opinion that they had better retrace their steps. The
noble soldier spoke, as he always did, with firmness and judgment. He
did not believe, he said, in the friendship of men who could give such
pusillanimous advice; that the return of the Court would make them
despicable in the eyes of all, and would discourage the loyal, and give
fresh impetus to the plans of the disaffected. The Queen approved and
seconded him on every point, and the procession moved on once more. The
young King, at the head of his guards, rode in amid loud cries of ‘Vive
le Roi!’ and the acclamations of a huge concourse that accompanied him
to the gates of the Louvre. The next day the Duke of Orleans and his
daughter thought it advisable to leave Paris, and amicable relations
were entered into between the King and his Parliament. ‘L’ordre fût
bientôt rétabli dans la ville, et le calme qui succeda fit oublier les
troubles de la Fronde.’ The Prince de Condé alone refused to comply with
the conditions of the amnesty which was proclaimed, preferring, he said,
to suffer any loss rather than live in the same country with the
Cardinal, whose return was, of course, a matter of certainty; and he
chose the alternative of making a league with the Spaniards. Turenne
remained in Paris until he considered Louis to be safely reinstated on
the throne, and then he went again into the field at a time of year when
troops generally go into winter quarters. On parting from the King, he
promised to drive Condé and his allies out of France before the
expiration of the winter; and he redeemed his pledge.
The Prince de Condé was compelled to leave the country, and comparative
peace was restored in the interior of the kingdom; but peril, hardship,
and scarcity still pursued the Royal army, and exposed their noble
commander to dreadful straits, which were much aggravated by the
jealousy of his colleague, the Marshal de la Ferté. At the end of the
year 1652, the troops were ordered into winter quarters; and in the
commencement of the ensuing year the Vicomte de Turenne espoused a lady,
whose name, possessions, titles, and good qualities engross a large
space in the pages of the Marshal’s biography. Her merits are best
summed up in this one sentence: ‘She was worthy to be the wife of the
hero.’ Charlotte de Caumont was the daughter and heiress of Armand
Nompar de Caumont, Duc de la Force, Pair et Maréchal de
France,—beautiful, modest, rich, well educated, and, in short, possessed
of all those qualities which are generally the attributes of a
bride-elect.
The newly-married pair were not long allowed to enjoy their spell of
happiness, for the month of June once more saw the Marshal in the field,
and the old warfare recommenced between the King’s army and Condé and
his Spanish allies. The marches, counter-marches, attacks, sieges, and
retreats belong to the military annals of the time. Mazarin continued to
make fruitless overtures to Condé, who entangled himself more and more
with the Spaniards; but fell out with his other ally, the Duke of
Lorraine, whom he was instrumental in causing to be arrested and
imprisoned. The Prince de Conti did not follow his brother’s example,
and finding he reaped no advantage from being at variance with the
Court, he became reconciled to the King and the Cardinal Minister, whose
niece, Anna Maria de Martinozzi, he shortly afterwards married.
Turenne’s attack on the Spanish lines and Condé’s troops added so much
to his military fame that complimentary messages and letters from German
princes and European generals poured in on all sides. A characteristic
trait is told of the hero about this time, characteristic also of the
spite and jealousy of the Marshal de la Ferté. This general, finding one
of Turenne’s guards outside the camp, caused him to be severely beaten.
The man, covered with blood, sought the presence of his commanding
officer, and complained of his usage.
Turenne sent him back, under the escort of a lieutenant of the Guards,
with a message to De la Ferté, apologising for any want of respect the
man may have shown, as it must have been something very reprehensible to
cause so severe a punishment. The message was given in the presence of
the whole staff of officers, who were acquainted with the real state of
the case, and De la Ferté was betrayed into exclaiming aloud, ‘Cet homme
sera-t-il toujours sage, et moi toujours fou?’
In the month of August the Marshals D’Hocquincourt and De la Ferté
joined the King, and the Vicomte de Turenne remained in the undivided
command of the army. Towards the end of September he went back to Paris,
where he was again serviceable in negotiating affairs between the King
and the Parliament, but soon returned to active service. The Frondeurs
were dispersed or pardoned; the Duke of Orleans reconciled to his
brother; Cardinal de Retz, who had been imprisoned and escaped, had
sought refuge in Rome; but Turenne still pursued his path of glory and
of peril, gaining fresh laurels, even when unsuccessful in the literal
sense of the word. His despatches and private communications were
invariably marked by that modesty which is the true attribute of
greatness. After the famous siege of Dunkirk, he wrote to his wife: ‘Les
ennemis sont venus, ils out été battus, Dieu soit loué; j’ai été un peu
fatigué toute la journée; je vous donne le bon soir, et je vais me
coucher.’
This taking of Dunkirk was an affair of such importance, that it is said
Cardinal Mazarin wished to take the glory on himself of projecting and
planning the enterprise; and it is further stated that he endeavoured to
bribe the great general into bearing witness to the Minister’s share in
the matter, by a written document. It was wonderful that the Cardinal
should not by this time have learned better to understand the character
of the man with whom he had to deal. Turenne replied that Mazarin might
pride himself as much as he pleased on his knowledge of military
tactics, but for himself he would never bear testimony to a falsehood.