Part 8

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.]

On the retreat of Condé from Paris, Rochefoucauld retired with his family to Danvilliers, where he spent a year in retirement; recovering from his wounds; and making up his mind to extricate himself from the web of intrigue in which he had immeshed himself. The Fronde was already at an end: it crumbled to pieces under the influence of fear and corruption. Rochefoucauld had already broken with the prince of Conti and the duchess de Longueville[27]: his last tie was to Condé. He received representations from his friends, and, doubtless, his own mind suggested the advantage of breaking this last link to an overthrown party. One of the bribes held out to him was the marriage of his son with mademoiselle de la Roche-Guyon, his cousin and an heiress. Desirous of acting honourably, he sent Gourville to Brussels, to disengage him from all ties with Condé. Gourville executed the task with his usual sagacity: he represented to the prince that the duke could no longer be of any service to him; and, having family reasons for wishing to return to France, he asked his consent and permission. The prince admitted his excuses, and freed him from every bond. Gourville then went to Paris, to negotiate the duke's return with cardinal Mazarin. After some difficulty he obtained an interview with the minister, who readily granted leave to the duke to return, and completed his work by gaining over Gourville himself.

Thus ended, as far as any trace remains to us, the active life of a man who hereafter reaped lessons of wisdom from the busy scenes through which he had passed. From various passages in Gourville's memoirs it is evident that he spent the years immediately succeeding to the war on his own estate of la Rochefoucauld. He was nearly ruined by the career he had gone through; and, finding his affairs almost hopelessly deranged, he asked Gourville, who had turned financier, to receive his rents and revenues, and to undertake the management of his estate, household, and debts, allowing him forty pistoles a month for dress and private expenses; which arrangement lasted till his death. Subsequently he lived almost entirely in Paris, where he made a part of what may emphatically be called the best society, of which he was the greatest ornament; and was respected and beloved by a circle of intimate and dear friends. He had always been one of the chief ornaments of the Hotel de Rambouillet. We cannot tell how far he deigned to adopt the jargon of the fair _Précieuses_; but, as the society assembled there was celebrated as the most intellectual and the most virtuous in Paris, it was an honour for a man to belong to it.

It is singular also to remark, that the most unaffected writers of the time of Louis XIV. had once figured as _Alcovistes_ or _Précieuses_. Madame de la Fayette, who, in her works, adopted a simplicity of sentiment and expression that contrasts forcibly with the bombast of the school of Scuderi; madame de Sévigné, whose style is the most delightful and easy in the world; Rochefoucauld, who, first among moderns, concentrated his ideas, and, abjuring the diffuseness that still reigned in literature, aimed at expressing his thoughts in as few words as possible, had all been frequenters and favourites at the Hotel de Rambouillet. It would seem that intellectual indolence is the mind's greatest foe; and, once incited to think, persons of talent can easily afterwards renounce a bad school. Platonic gallantries, metaphorical conceits, and ridiculous phraseology, were not the only accomplishments prized by the _Précieuses_. Learning and wit flourished among them; and when Molière, with happy ridicule, had dissolved the charm that had steeped them in folly, these remained, and shone forth brightly in the persons already named, and others scarcely less celebrated--Ménage, Balzac, Voiture, Bourdaloue, &c.

To return to Rochefoucauld himself. His best and dearest friend was madame de la Fayette, the authoress of "La Princesse de Clèves," and other works that mark her excellent taste and distinguished talents. Madame de la Fayette was, in her youth, a pupil of Ménage and Rapin. She learned Latin under their tuition, and rose above her masters in the quickness of her comprehension. In general society she carefully concealed her acquirements. "She understood Latin," Segrais writes, "but she never allowed her knowledge to appear; so not to excite the jealousy of other women." She was intimately allied to all the clever men of the time, and respected and loved by them. She was a woman of a strong mind; witty and discerning, frank, kind-hearted, and true. Rochefoucauld owed much to her, while she had obligations to him. Their friendship was of mutual benefit. "He gave me intellect," she said, "and I reformed his heart."

This heart might well need reform and cure from all of evil it had communicated with during long years of intrigue and adventure. The easiness of his temper, his turn for gallantry, the mobile nature of his mind, rendered him susceptible to the contamination of the bad passions then so active around him. Ardent, ambitious, subtle,--we find him, in the time of the Fronde, busiest among the intriguers; eager in pursuit of his objects, yet readily turned aside; violent in his hatred, passionate in his attachments, yet easily detached from both, after the first fire had burnt out. His vacillation of conduct and feeling at that time caused it to be said, that he always made a quarrel in the morning, and the employment of his day was to make it up by evening. Cardinal de Retz, his great enemy, accuses him or thinking too ill of human nature.[28] Thrown among the fools, knaves, and demoralised women of the Fronde, we cannot wonder that he, seeing the extent of the evil of which human nature is capable, was unaware that these very passions, regulated by moral principle and religion, would animate men to virtue as well as to vice. He read this lesson subsequently in his own heart, when, turning from the libertine society with which he spent his youth, he became the friend of madame de la Fayette, madame de Sévigné, and the most distinguished persons of the reign of Louis XIV. Yet the taint could not quite be effaced. It left his heart, but it blotted his understanding. He could feel generous, noble, and pious sentiments; but having once experienced emotions the reverse of these, and having found them deep-rooted in others, he fancied that both virtue and vice, good and evil, sprang from the same causes, and were based on the same foundations. Added to this, we may observe that his best friends belonged to a court. True and just as was madame de la Fayette,--amiable and disinterested as madame de Sévigné,--brave as Turenne,--noble as Condé,--pious as Racine,--honest as Boileau,--devout and moral as madame de Maintenon might be, and were, the taint of a court was spread over all; the desire of being well with the sovereign, and making a monarch's favour the cynosure of hearts and the measure of merit. Rochefoucauld fancied that he could discern selfishness in all; yet, had he turned his eye inward with a clearer view, he had surely found that the impulses that caused his own heart to warm with friendship and virtue, were based on a power of forgetting self in extraneous objects; for he was a faithful, affectionate, and disinterested friend, a fond father, and an honourable man. He was brave also; though madame de Maintenon tells us that he was accustomed to say that he looked on personal bravery as folly. This speech lets us into much of the secret recesses of his mind. His philosophy was epicurean; and, wanting the stoic exaltation of sentiment, and worship of good for good's sake, he mistook the principles of the human mind, and saw no excellence in a forgetfulness of self, the capacity for which he was thus led to deny.[29] Madame de Maintenon adds, in her portrait, "M. de Rochefoucauld had an agreeable countenance, a dignified manner, much intellect, and little knowledge. He was intriguing, supple, foreseeing. I never knew a friend more constant, more frank, nor more prudent in his advice. He loved to reign: he was very brave. He preserved the vivacity of his mind till his death; and was always lively and agreeable, though naturally serious."

The latter part of his life was embittered by the gout, which seldom left him free from pain. The society of madame de la Fayette and other friends were his resource during the intervals of his attacks, and his comfort throughout. Madame de Sévigné makes frequent mention of him in her letters, and always in a way that marks approbation and respect. She often speaks of his fortitude in suffering bodily pain, and his sensibility when domestic misfortunes visited him severely. His courage never abandoned him, except when death deprived him of those he loved. One of his sons was killed and another wounded in the passage of the Rhine. "I have seen," writes madame de Sévigné, "his heart laid bare by this cruel disaster. He is the first among all the men I ever knew for courage, goodness, tenderness, and sense. I count his wit and agreeable qualities as nothing in comparison." It is from her letters that we gather an account of his death. Mention is made of him, as well and enjoying society, in the month of February. [Sidenote: 1680. Ætat. 67.] On the 13th of March she writes, "M. de la Rochefoucauld has been and is seriously ill. He is better to-day; but there is every appearance of death: he has a high fever, an oppression, a suppressed gout. There has been question of the English doctor and other physicians: he has chosen his godfather; and frère Ange will kill him, if God has thus disposed. M. de Marsillac is expected: madame de la Fayette is deeply afflicted." On the 15th of the same month she writes, "I fear that this time we shall lose M. de la Rochefoucauld: his fever continues. He received the communion yesterday. He is in a state worthy of admiration. He is excellently disposed with regard to his conscience,--that is clear: for the rest, it is to him as if his neighbour were ill: he is neither moved nor troubled. He hears the cause of the physicians pleaded before him with an unembarrassed head, and almost without deigning to give his opinion. It reminded me of the verse,

Trop dessous de lui, pour y prêter l'esprit.