At the time of the accession of Charles X., the family of Conde was
represented only by an old man of sixty-eight, Louis-Henri-Joseph de
Bourbon-Conde, born April 13th, 1756. At the death of his father in
1818, he had taken the title of Prince of Conde, while retaining that
of Duke of Bourbon, by which he had previously been designated. On the
10th of January, 1822, he lost his wife, Princess
Louise-Marie-Therese-Bathilde, sister of the Duke of Orleans, mother of
the unfortunate Duke d'Enghien, and he lost, on March 10th, 1824, his
sister, Mademoiselle de Conde, the nun whose convent of the Perpetual
Adoration was situated in the Temple near the site of the former tower
where Louis XVI. and his family had been confined.
The Duke of Bourbon, in his youth, had had a famous duel with the Count
of Artois, the future Charles X. No resentment subsisted between the
two princes, who afterwards maintained the most cordial relations.
During the Emigration, the Duke of Bourbon served with valor in the
army of his father, the Prince of Conde. While the white flag floated
at the head of a regiment he was found fighting for the royal cause;
then, the struggle ended, he retired to England, where he had lived
near Louis XVIII., and always at his disposition. Returning to France
at the Restoration, he had since resided almost always at Chantilly or
at Saint-Leu, without his wife, from whom he had long been separated.
He was ranked as a reactionary, but busied himself little with
politics, and exerted no influence.
The Count of Puymaigre, who, in his office as Prefect of the Oise, at
the commencement of the reign of Charles X., often went to Chantilly,
speaks of him in his Souvenirs:--
"The name of my father, much beloved by the late Prince of Conde, more
than my title of Prefect, caused me to be received with welcome, and I
took advantage of it the more gladly, because I have never seen a house
where one was more at one's ease, and where there was more of that
comfortable life known before the Revolution as the chateau life. There
was little of the prince in him; he was more like an elderly bachelor
who liked to have about him joy, movement, pleasure, a wholly Epicurean
life. The society of Chantilly ordinarily consisted of the household of
the Prince; that is to say, old servitors of his father, some ladies
whose husbands held at this little court the places of equerries or
gentlemen of the chamber, some persons who were invited, or like
myself, had the right to come when they wished, and among this number I
frequently saw the Prince of Rohan, relative of the Duke of Bourbon,
disappointed since of the portion of the inheritance he hoped for;
finally, some Englishmen and their wives. The tone was quite free,
since the Prince set the example. And I recall that one day he
recommended me to be gallant with one of the English ladies, who, he
said, would like nothing better than to receive such attentions. That
seemed very likely to me, but she was not young enough to tempt me to
carry the adventure very far."
The real chatelaine of this little court of Chantilly was a beautiful
Englishwoman, Sophie Dawes, married to a French officer, the Baron of
Feucheres. Born about 1795, in the Isle of Wight, Sophie Dawes was the
daughter of a fisherman. It is said that she was brought up by charity,
and played for some time at Covent Garden Theatre, London. But her
early life is unknown, and what is told of it is not trustworthy. In
1817, she was taken into the intimacy of the Duke of Bourbon, and
afterwards acquired an irresistible ascendancy over him. When she
became his inseparable companion, she explained her presence with him
by the story that she was his natural daughter, and the Duke avoided
confirming or denying this assertion. In 1818, he arranged a marriage
between his favorite and a very honorable officer, the Baron of
Feucheres, who believed, in good faith, that Sophie Dawes was really
the daughter of the Duke of Bourbon, and not his mistress. The marriage
was celebrated in England, but the pair returned to Chantilly. The
Baron of Feucheres figures in the royal Almanacs of 1821, 1822, 1823,
as lieutenant-colonel, gentleman in ordinary to the Duke of Bourbon,
Prince of Conde, but not in the Almanac of 1824.
In a very interesting work, the Vie de Charles X. by the Abbe de
Vedrenne, the reader will find:--
"By the marriage of Sophie Dawes, did the Duke of Bourbon wish to break
away from a guilty bond? It is generally believed. As to M. de
Feucheres, convinced that his wife was the daughter of the Prince, he
had no suspicion. It was Sophie Dawes herself who enlightened him, to
drive him away. The effect of the revelation was terrible. M. de
Feucheres, indignant, quitted his wife. There no longer remained about
the Prince any but the creatures of Madame de Feucheres. Every one did
her bidding at Chantilly, and the Prince most of all."
The favorite sought to palliate her false situation in the eyes of
society by doing good with the Prince's money. The Count of Puymaigre
relates that she many times took him to the Hospital of Chantilly,
endowed by the munificence of the great Conde, the revenues of which
she wished to increase. He adds: "I urged her to this good work as much
as I could; for good, by whatever hand done, endures."
One day the Duchess of Angouleme asked him if he went often to
Chantilly.
"I go there," replied the Prefect, "to pay my court to the Duke of
Bourbon, whom I have the honor of having in my department."
"That is very well," responded the Dauphiness, "but I hope that Madame
de Puymaigre does not go."
The grand passion of the Duke of Bourbon was hunting. The Prefect of
the Oise says:--
"It was particularly during the hunts of Saint-Hubert that Chantilly
was a charming abode. The start was made at seven o'clock in the
morning, and usually I was in the carriage of the Prince with the
everlasting Madame de Feucheres. The hunting-lodge was delightful and
in a most picturesque situation. There twenty or thirty persons met to
the sound of horns, in the midst of dogs, horses, and huntsmen. The
coursing train of the Prince was finer and more complete than that of
the King. A splendid breakfast was served at the place of rendezvous,
built and furnished in the Gothic style of the thirteenth century, and
there the chase began. Although I told the Prince that I was no hunter,
he often made me mount my horse and accompany him; but often having
enjoyed the really attractive spectacle of the stag, driven by a crowd
of dogs, which launched themselves after him across the waters of a
little lake, I hastened back to the Gothic pavilion where the ladies
and a few men remained."