composed of its citizens, poured out to resist the blockade. The warfare
was of the most ridiculous kind: the people of Paris made a jest of
their own soldiery, which excelled only in the talent of running away.
These troops went to the field by thousands, dressed out in feathers and
ribands: they fled if they encountered but 200 of the royal troops: when
they returned, flying, they were received with laughter and shouts of
ridicule. Couplets and epigrams were multiplied and showered upon them
and their leaders; the populace were diverted, while the most frightful
licence prevailed; blasphemy was added to licentiousness, and the bands
of society were loosened, its core poisoned. At length the middling
classes, most active at first in the work of sedition and lawlessness,
got tired of the wickedness they saw exhibited round them, and of the
dangers to which they were perpetually exposed. Blood was spilt, and
they scarcely knew for what they fought: each side began to sigh for
peace. De Retz failed in gaining the assistance of Turenne, for,
corrupted by an emissary of Mazarin, the army of Turenne deserted him.
The same arts were used to gain over the partisans of De Retz. The
prince de Marsillac was suffering from a severe wound. He had headed a
squadron sent out with other troops for the purpose of escorting some
convoys of provisions. The party was attacked, and fled on the instant,
with the exception of the party led by Marsillac, (who, de Retz
observes, had more valour than experience) that kept the ground till the
prince had a horse killed under him, and was seriously wounded himself,
when he returned to Paris. This circumstance led him, probably, to
listen more readily to the representations of Mazarin's emissaries.
[Sidenote: 1649.
Ætat.
36.]
He became an entire convert to the desire for peace, and by degrees,
though with difficulty, the prince of Conti and the duchess de
Longueville were brought to acquiesce in its necessity.
A sort of unsettled tranquillity was thus restored. After a time the
court returned to Paris: but the peace was hollow, and the bad passions
of men fermented still. The capital, with the exception of not being
under arms, was in a state of perpetual and disgraceful tumult. The war
of the Fronde has been named a tragic farce; for it was carried on as
much by mutual insults and epigrams as by the sword. Never did mankind
display so total a disregard for decency and moral law: churchmen
acknowledged their mistresses openly; wives made no secret of favouring
their lovers; and infamy became too common to render any one
conspicuous. As the nobility of the Fronde were the most dissolute, so,
by degrees, did it lose favour with the people. Each noble sought his
own interests: each changed side as his hopes changed. The Fronde lost
many of its chief partisans. The prince of Condé became reconciled to
the prince of Conti; and he, and the duke and duchess de Longueville,
and the prince Marsillac, now duke de la Rochefoucauld, through the
recent death of his father, fell off from the Fronde, at the same time
that they continued to oppose and insult the queen and Mazarin.
Meanwhile De Retz was eager to renew a warfare which raised him to the
rank of leader. He was still intriguing--still, as it were, covertly in
arms,--continuing to exercise unbounded influence over the people of
Paris, and to carry on intrigues with the discontented nobles. The
court, meanwhile, thoroughly frightened by the late events, was bent on
weakening its enemies by any means, however treacherous and violent.
[Sidenote: 1650.
Ætat.
37.]
While, therefore, the false security of peace prevented their being on
their guard, suddenly one day the prince of Condé, his brother, and
brother-in-law, were arrested, and sent to Vincennes; and the queen sent
to the duchess de Longueville, requiring her immediate attendance.
Rochefoucauld had seen reason to suspect this piece of treachery, and
had wished to warn the princes; but the person he intrusted with the
commission failed to execute it. When the duke de Vrillière brought the
order to the duchess requiring her attendance, Rochefoucauld persuaded
her, instead of obeying, to quit Paris on the instant, and hasten to
Normandy, to raise her friends in Rouen and Havre de Grace, in favour of
her husband and brothers. Rochefoucauld accompanied her; but the duchess
having failed in her attempt, and being pressed by the enemy, was forced
to embark, and take refuge in Holland, while Rochefoucauld repaired to
his government at Poitou. All was now prepared for war. Turenne, at
Stenay, was in revolt. The dukes of Bouillon and la Rochefoucauld
collected troops in Guienne. Rochefoucauld was the first in arms, though
he had no resource, except his credit and friends, in collecting troops.
He made the ceremony of the interment of his father the pretext for
assembling the nobility and tenants of his province, and thus raised
2000 horse and 600 foot.[24] His first attempt was to succour Saumur,
besieged by the king's troops. But Mazarin had not been idle: he had
engaged what Frederick the Great called his _yellow hussars_ in his
favour, and, by bribery and corruption, possessed himself of the town.
After this Bordeaux became the seat of war. Bouillon and Rochefoucauld
having entrenched themselves in that city, and the royal troops
attacking it. Ill defended by fortifications, it soon capitulated, but
obtained favourable terms. Bouillon and Rochefoucauld were allowed to
retire. Mazarin exerted all his powers of persuasion to gain them, but
they continued faithful to the princes. Rochefoucauld retreated once
again to his government of Poitou, discontented at having received no
compensation for his house of Verteuil, which the king's party had
razed.
Soon after the divisions in France took somewhat a new face. De Retz
gained over the duke of Orleans, and united himself to the party of the
princes. The Fronde, thus reinforced, turned all its force against
Mazarin. He was forced to fly, and the princes were liberated. It is not
here that a detail of the strange events of the war of the Fronde can be
given. They are introduced only because Rochefoucauld took a prominent
part. Changes were perpetually taking place in the state of parties; and
a sort of confusion reigns throughout, arising from the want of any
noble or disinterested object in any of the partisans, that at once
confuses and wearies the mind. To detail the conduct of a nobility
emancipated from all legal as well as all moral and religious
restraint,--bent only on the acquisition of power,--influenced by hatred
and selfishness,--is no interesting task. It may be instructive; for we
see what an aristocracy may become, when it throws off the control of a
court, whose interest it is to enforce order,--and of the people, who
spontaneously love and admire virtue,--and at once tramples on religion
and law. The nobles of the Fronde had lost the dignity and grandeur of
feudal power; they aimed at no amelioration for the state of the
kingdom; they neither loved freedom nor power in any way permanently
advantageous, even to their own order. Turbulent, dissolute, and
unprincipled, they acted the parts of emancipated slaves, not of freemen
asserting their rights. We seek for some trace of better things in
Rochefoucauld's own views and actions, but do not find it. He avows
ambition; that and his love for the duchess de Longueville are all the
motives that are discernible in his own account of his conduct. When,
however, we find madame de Maintenon, who was an excellent and an
impartial judge, praise him, in the sequel, as a faithful, true, and
prudent friend, we are willing to throw the blame from him on those from
whom he divided. Madame de Longueville was certainly guilty of
inconstancy; and we are told how entirely she was influenced by the
person to whom she attached herself. She drew the prince of Conti after
her. Meanwhile, the party in opposition to Mazarin became divided into
the new and old Fronde. No one could tell to which De Retz would adhere
long. He, for the moment, headed the old, the prince of Condé the new.
Rochefoucauld hated De Retz, we are told, with a hatred seldom felt,
except by rival men of talent.[25] He now, therefore, sided with Condé,
and endeavoured to alienate him entirely from the coadjutor, and to draw
over his brother and sister to the same side. He entered zealously into
the plan of breaking off a marriage proposed between the prince of Conti
and mademoiselle de Chevreuse, who was known to be the mistress of De
Retz, which event widened the separation between the parties. This led
to more violent scenes than ever. Condé was forced to retreat, and only
appeared strongly guarded; and the queen took advantage of this show of
violence to accuse him of high treason to parliament. This occasioned
the most tumultuous scenes. The two parties met in the Palace of
Justice; both Condé and De Retz surrounded by followers eager to draw
their swords on each other,--none more eager than Rochefoucauld, whom De
Retz detested, and (if we believe the duke's own account) had several
times sought to have assassinated. On this occasion Rochefoucauld was on
the alert to revenge himself. Molé, the intrepid and courageous
president, alone, by his resolution and firmness, prevented bloodshed.
He implored the prince and the coadjutor to withdraw their troops from
the palace: they assented. De Retz left the hall to command his
followers to retire. Rochefoucauld was sent by Condé on a similar
mission to his partisans. This was a more difficult task than they had
apprehended: both parties were on the point of coming to blows; and the
coadjutor hastened to return to the great chamber, when an extraordinary
scene, related by the duke in his memoirs, ensued. He had returned
before the coadjutor, and De Retz, pushing the door open, got half in,
when Rochefoucauld pressed against it on the other side, and held his
enemy's body in the doorway, half in and half out of the chamber. "This
opportunity might have tempted the duke de la Rochefoucauld," writes the
duke himself. "After all that had passed, both public and private
reasons led him to desire to destroy his most mortal enemy; as, besides
the facility thus offered of revenging himself, while he avenged the
prince for the shame and disgrace he had endured, he saw also that the
life of the coadjutor ought to answer for the disorder he occasioned.
But, on the other side, he considered that no combat had been begun;
that no one came against him to defend the coadjutor; that he had not
the same pretext for attacking him as if blows had already been
interchanged--the followers of the prince, also, who were near the duke,
did not reflect on the extent of the service they might have rendered
their master in this conjuncture;--in fine, the duke would not commit an
action that seemed cruel, and the rest were irresolute and unprepared;
and thus time was given to liberate the coadjutor from the greatest
danger in which he had ever found himself."[26] Rochefoucauld adds the
description of another incident, not less characteristic of the times,
that happened subsequently. After this scene in the Palace of Justice,
the coadjutor avoided going there or meeting Condé; but, one day, the
prince was in his carriage with Rochefoucauld, followed by an immense
crowd of people, when they met the coadjutor, in his pontifical robes,
leading a procession of relics and images of saints. The prince stopped,
out of respect to the church, and the coadjutor went on till he came
opposite to the prince, whom he saluted respectfully, giving both him
and his companion his benediction. They received it with marks of
reverence; while the people around, excited by the rencontre, uttered a
thousand imprecations against De Retz, and would have torn him to
pieces, had not the prince caused his followers to interfere to his
rescue. In all this we see nothing of the high bearing of a man of
birth, nor the gallantry and generosity of a soldier. That Rochefoucauld
did not murder De Retz scarcely redeems him, since we find that he
entertained the thought, and almost repented not having put it in
execution. In the heat of this quarrel the coadjutor had named him
coward: ("I lied," De Retz writes in his memoirs, "for he was assuredly
very brave;") giving him, at the same time, his nickname,
_Franchise_, which he got in ridicule of his assumption of the
appearance of frankness as a cloak to double-dealing and real astuteness
of disposition. We are willing, however, to suppose that he practised
this sort of astuteness only with his enemies, and that he continued
frank and true to his friends. He had now become the firm partisan and
friend of Condé. This prince, a soldier in heart and profession, grew
impatient of the miserable tumults and brawls of Paris, and resolved to
assert his authority in arms. He retreated to the south of France, and
raised Guienne, Poitou, and Anjou against the court. He was surrounded
by the prince of Conti, the duchess de Longueville, Rochefoucauld,
Nemours, and many others of his boldest and most powerful adherents. He
was received in Bordeaux with joy and acclamations: ten thousand men
were levied; and Spain eagerly lent her succour to support him in his
rebellion. This was, for France, the most disastrous period of its civil
dissensions. All the blessings of civilisation were lost; commerce, the
arts, and the sciences were, as it were, obliterated from the face of
society; the industrious classes were reduced to misery and want; the
peasantry had degenerated into bandits; lawlessness and demoralisation
were spread through the whole country. The total disregard for honour
and virtue that characterised the higher classes became ferocity and
dishonesty in the lower.
Condé, into whose purposes and aims we have small insight,--that he
hated Mazarin, and desired power, is all we know,--reaped little
advantage from the state to which he assisted, at least, to reduce his
country. His friends and partisans quarrelled with each other; supplies
fell off; he saw himself on the brink of ruin; and determined to
retrieve himself by a total change of plan. His scheme was to cross the
whole of France, and to put himself at the head of the veteran troops of
the duke de Nemours. The undertaking was encompassed with dangers. His
friends at first dissuaded, but, finding him resolved, they implored
permission to accompany him. He made such division as he considered
advantageous for his affairs; leaving Marsin behind, with the prince of
Conti, to maintain his interests in Guienne, and taking with him
Rochefoucauld, his young son, the prince de Marsillac, and several other
nobles and officers. Gourville, Rochefoucauld's secretary, who had made
several journeys to and fro between Paris and Bordeaux, and was a man
of singular activity, astuteness, and presence of mind, was to serve as
their guide.
[Sidenote: 1652.
Ætat.
39.]
The party set out on Palm Sunday, disguised as simple cavaliers; the
servants and followers being sent forward by water. The journey was
continued by day and night, almost with the same horses. The adventurers
never remained for two hours together in the same place, either for
repose or refreshment. Sometimes they stopped at the houses of two or
three gentlemen, friends of one of the party, for a short interval of
rest, and for the purpose of buying horses: but these gentlemen were far
from suspecting that Condé was among them, and spoke so freely, that he
heard much concerning himself and his friends which had never before
reached his ears. At other times they took shelter in outhouses, or poor
public-houses by the way side, while Gourville went to forage in the
towns. Their fare was meager enough. In one little inn they found
nothing but eggs. Condé insisted on making the omelet himself, piquing
himself on his skill: the hostess showed him how to turn it; but he,
using too much force in the manœuvre, threw the supper of himself and
his friends into the fire. During the fatigues of this journey
Rochefoucauld was attacked by his first fit of the gout; but their
greatest embarrassment arose from the young prince de Marsillac, who
almost sunk under the fatigues to which he was exposed. Gourville was
the safeguard of the party: he foraged for food, answered impertinent
questions, invented subterfuges, and executed a thousand contrivances to
ensure their safety, or extricate them from danger. When refreshing
their horses in a large village a peasant recognised Condé, and named
him. Gourville, hearing this, began to laugh, and told his friends as
they came up, and they joining in bantering the poor man, he did not
know what to believe. All the party, except the prince at the head of
it, whose frame was of iron, were overcome by fatigue. After passing the
Loire, they were nearly discovered by the sentinels at La Charité, whom
they encountered through a mistake of the guide. The sentinel demanded
who went there: Gourville replied that they were officers of the court,
who desired to enter. The Condé, pursuing the same tone, bade the man
go to the governor, and ask leave for them to be admitted into the town;
some soldiers, who were loitering near, were about to take this message,
when Gourville exclaimed, addressing the prince, "You have time to sleep
here, but our _congé_ ends to-morrow, and we must push on;" and he
proceeded, followed by the others, who said to the prince, "You can
remain if you like;" but Condé, as if discontented, yet not liking to
part company, followed, telling them that they were strange people, and
sending his compliments to the governor. After passing the river, their
dangers were far from over. Some of the companions of the prince were
recognised: the report began to spread that he was of the party. They
left the high road, and continued their journey to Chatillon in such
haste, that they went, according to Rochefoucauld's account, the
incredible distance of thirty-five leagues, with the same horses, in one
day--a day full of dangerous recognitions and misadventures: they were
surrounded by troops; and, one after the other, Condé was obliged to
send his companions on various missions to ensure his safety, till he
was left at last with only Rochefoucauld, and his son, the prince de
Marsillac. They proceeded guardedly, Marsillac an hundred steps in
advance of, and Rochefoucauld at the same distance behind, Condé, so
that he might receive notice of any danger, and have some chance of
saving himself. They had not proceeded far in this manner before they
heard various reports of a pistol, and, at the same moment, perceived
four cavaliers on their left, approaching at full trot. Believing
themselves discovered, they resolved to charge these four men,
determined to die rather than be taken; but, on their drawing near, they
found that it was one of their own number, who had returned, accompanied
by three gentlemen; and altogether they proceeded to Chatillon. Here
Condé heard of the situation of the army he was desirous of joining;
but he heard, at the same time, that he was in the close neighbourhood
of danger, several of the king's guard being then at Chatillon. They set
out again at midnight; and were nearly discovered and lost at the end of
their adventure, being recognised by many persons. However, as it turned
out, this served instead of injuring them, as several mounted on
horseback, and accompanied the party till they fell in with the advanced
guard of the army, close to the forest of Orleans. They were hailed by
_a qui vive_. The answer, and the knowledge that spread, that Condé had
arrived, occasioned general rejoicing and surprise in the army, which
greatly needed his presence.
Condé was opposed by Turenne, who now adhered to the court. These two
great generals felt that they had a worthy match in each other. Before
Condé's presence was generally known, Turenne recognised his influence
in an attack that was made; and exclaimed, as he hurried to the spot,
"The prince of Condé is arrived!"
Warfare was thus transferred to the immediate neighbourhood of the
capital, and intrigues of all kinds varied the more soldierly manœuvres
of the contending armies. It is impossible here to detail either the
vicissitudes of minor combats, or the artifices of De Retz and the other
leaders. Condé found himself forced at last to give way before Turenne.
Finding the position he held at St. Cloud do longer tenable, he resolved
to take up a new one at Charenton. For this purpose he was obliged to
make nearly the circuit of Paris, then held by the duke of Orleans, who
considered himself at the head of the Fronde, but who displayed on this,
as on every other occasion, his timid and temporising character. As soon
as Condé began his march, Turenne became acquainted with it, and
pursued him. Condé advanced as far as the suburbs of Paris, and, for a
moment, doubted whether he would not ask permission to pass through the
city; but, afraid of being refused, he resolved to march on. Danger
approaching nearer and gathering thicker, he determined to make a stand
in the fauxbourg St. Antoine. Here, therefore, the battle commenced. The
combat was hard contested and fierce: it was attended by various changes
in the fortune of the day. At one time Condé had been enabled to
advance, but he was again driven back to the gates of St. Antoine, where
he was not only assailed in front, but had to sustain a tremendous fire
carried on from the surrounding houses. Rochefoucauld was at his side:
he, and his son, and other nobles dismounted, and sustained the whole
attack, without the assistance of the infantry, who refused to aid them.
The duke de Nemours received thirteen wounds, and Rochefoucauld was
wounded by an arquebuse, just above the eyes, which, in an instant,
deprived him of sight; and he was carried off the field by the duke of
Beaufort and the prince of Marsillac. They were pursued; but Condé came
to their succour, and gave them time to mount. The citizens were averse
to opening the gates of the city to the prince's army, fearing that the
troops of Turenne would enter with him: its safety, however, entirely
depended on taking refuge in Paris. The duke of Orleans, vacillating and
dastardly, heard of the peril of his friends, and of the loss they had
sustained, and moved no finger to help them. His daughter, mademoiselle
de Montpensier, showed a spirit superior to them all. She shamed her
father into signing an order for the opening of the gates. She repaired
to the Bastille, and turned its cannon on the royal army; and then,
going herself to the gate St. Antoine, she not only persuaded the
citizens to receive the prince and troops, but to sally out, skirmish
with, and drive back their pursuers. Rochefoucauld, seeing the diversion
made in their favour, desired to take advantage of it; and, though his
eyes were starting from his head through the effects of his wound, he
rode to the fauxbourg St. Germain, and exhorted the people to come to
Condé's aid. Success crowned these efforts; and the prince, after
displaying unexampled conduct and valour, entered Paris with flying
colours.
This was the crisis of the war of the Fronde. His success and gallantry
had raised Condé high in the affections of the Parisians; but popular
favour is proverbially short lived, and, in a very short time, he became
the object of hatred. De Retz never slept at the work of intrigue. The
court, assisted by Turenne, rallied. A popular tumult ensued, more
serious than any that had yet occurred; a massacre was the consequence,
and the odium fell on Condé and his party. He lost his power even over
his own soldiery, and the utmost license prevailed. Several of the
leaders of the Fronde died also. The duke of Nemours fell in a duel with
his brother-in-law, the duke of Beaufort: the dukes of Chavigni and
Bouillon died of a typhus fever then raging in Paris. Scarcity, the
consequence of the presence of the soldiery and the state of the
surrounding country, became severely felt. Each party longed for repose.
The court acted with discretion. Mazarin was sacrificed for the time;
and the royal family returned to Paris, Condé having quitted it shortly
before. He hastened to Holland, eager, like a true soldier, to place
himself at the head of an army; but ill success pursued him: he was
declared a rebel; and, from that hour, his star declined. After much
treaty, much intrigue, and various acts of treachery, a peace was
concluded between the court and the remnant of the Fronde, and the
authority of the king, now declared major, was universally acknowledged.
[Sidenote: 1653.
Ætat.
40.]