Hôtel de Ville, a crime long infamous in the annals of Paris. The Duc is far too accomplished a student of war not to appreciate the splendid genius of Turenne; and we gladly acknowledge that, in this volume, he has often done justice to the renowned marshal. But his inclination, if not his purpose, is to make Turenne a kind of foil to Condé on all occasions when they come in contact, and, on the whole, to represent the almost perfect strategist as inferior to the tactician of Lens and Rocroy. This estimate, we think, is incorrect. Condé was a chief of remarkable power; he had many of the gifts of a great general; he was much more than a mere brilliant soldier, of the type of Luxemburg, Ney, and Lannes. But he never achieved anything that can be compared to the immortal campaigns of 1646, 1674, and 1675, enduring masterpieces of the military art; and Condé, as a rule, was defeated by Turenne, whenever they were opposed to each other, though this is not a conclusive test of their merits. The Duc d'Aumale, too, scarcely ever alludes to Turenne's profound political wisdom, characteristic of a scion of the House of Nassauperhaps because his hero presents a lamentable contrast in this respect. Yet this great quality contributed to the safety and the triumph of the Bourbon monarchy, in its struggle with Spain and the Second Fronde, as much as the noble exploits of Turenne in the field.

The last volume of this work closed with the arrest of Condé, his brother, and the Duc de Longueville, the complaisant husband of his too well known sister. The conduct of the Prince since the truce of Rueil, had been in keeping with his reckless character, and had marred his prospects when they seemed most brilliant. He had not, perhaps, committed crimes which would have brought him within the grasp of the law; but he had become a real danger to the State: he had insulted Mazarin and Anne of Austria, and he had forced terms on the Cardinal which would have made him the virtual master of France. He had, at the same time, with characteristic arrogance, broken with Gondi, Beaufort, and the First Fronde; and he was regarded with an evil eye by the Parisian populace, which had not forgiven the recent siege. One of those sudden alliances, repeatedly seen in the history of France at this period, united all parties against Condé; Gondi and Mazarin, bitter enemies before, joined hands to put down the foe of the moment, and the infuriated lion was caught in

their toils and shut up in the donjon of Vincennes. The captivity of the Princes was close and severe, and it deserves notice that not a voice was raised in the Parliament of Paris in their behalf, though a Royal Declaration against arbitrary arrest had been one of the conditions of the Peace of Rueil.

'The prisoners were as ill lodged as they were entertained. M. de Longueville was kept apart from the others. The two brothers occupied the same room, the lower hall of the donjon, dark, damp, and without air, a kind of place of concealment. Delicate and sickly, the Prince of Conti suffered from this treatment. After tedious negotiations, and at the price of ten pistoles, he was allowed to go up with his brother to the third story. A short time afterwards he was permitted to walk once a day on the roof, "for the state of his health was such that no risk was run.” This freedom was at first refused to the activity of Condé; he had to wait until April 27. Sentinels and watches were multiplied. The body guards of the King were on duty night and day in the chamber of the Princes. companies of the French Guards were stationed outside.'

Several

The coup d'état of Mazarin and Gondi was, for a moment, attended with success, and seemed to restore the power of the Regent. The Court was well received in two royal progresses, made through the northern and eastern provinces ; even Burgundy, where Condé was governor, acquiesced; Madame de Longueville, the dangerous Helen of the Fronde, was compelled to seek refuge and fly from Normandy, and the Queen and boy King were greeted in Paris. A sudden turn in events, fraught with important results to Condé and France, was due to an influence which, hitherto, had been deemed of the most insignificant kind. Claire Clémence de Maillé had been, for years, the despised and ill-treated wife of the Prince, and she was thought so incapable of a bold purpose that she was scarcely watched by the unsuspecting Government. But an heroic spirit animated that feeble frame; the Princess made her escape from Chantilly, taking with her her boy, the Duc d'Enghien, and having stayed for a short time at Montrond, the scene of her husband's martial youth, she made her way to the provinces of the south, where the standard of revolt was already raised. She was received with royal honours by Rochefoucauld and Bouillon-the first one of Madame de Longueville's lovers, the second the injured brother of Turenne, and both in arms against the Government-and under the feudal influence of the great nobles, and of the Trémoilles, La Forces, and

other powerful families, an insurrectionary movement had soon spread through the region between the Dordogne and Garonne. Bordeaux became the focus of a rebellion daily increasing in extent. The city, long afterwards the birthplace of the Gironde, had often shown the tendencies to revolt which have characterised some of the chief towns of France; it had recently defied a royal army; it was filled with the partisans of Condé; and though the parliament and the better class of citizens were unwilling to take a decisive step, the populace, which was soon to become supreme, and to imitate the excesses of 1793, rose vehemently for the cause of the Princes,' and all opposition was overborne. Bordeaux was soon the seat of a rebel government, which made its influence felt from the Pyrenees to the Limousin; the Princess of Condé directed everything; and one of the first acts of the thoughtless citizens was to invoke the assistance of Spain, at open war with their country :

The Parliament and the city had become deeply engaged. It was necessary to arm and to obtain the support of the foreigner, evidently an essential condition of success. The Princess reigns at Bordeaux, but she has no self-conceit; she does not try to govern; she leaves power to the two dukes. Guided by her good sense, and superior to fear, she makes everything turn on the deliverance of her consort. She speaks in public, when this is required, in a brief strain, but with surprising success; she is never put out; her devotion enlightens and inspires her, and raises her above her natural level of merit."

Meanwhile it had fared ill with France and the Government on the north-eastern frontier. Turenne, led astray by the siren Longueville, and angry at the spoliation of a brother he loved, had committed the one great fault of his life had drawn his weighty sword against the Queen and Mazarin, and had taken the command of a Spanish army, which had overrun the plains of Champagne. The great warrior was a host in himself, and had his colleague, the Archduke Leopold-more than once defeated by Condé and Turenne-listened to the counsels of a master of his art, a hostile force might have reached Paris, and perhaps have dictated peace within the walls of the capital. But the Archduke would not seize the occasion. The policy of Spain too, throughout the Second Fronde, was to temporise, and not to trust too much to rebel allies, who might become enemies; and the danger passed away from the House of Bourbon. Nevertheless an advanced guard of Turenne, who had pledged himself to relieve Condé, had pushed forward

almost to Vincennes ; and though the Marshal was ultimately driven back and defeated in a pitched battle near Rethel, the east of France remained in the hands of her foes. These disasters fatally weakened the power of the Cardinal; and, in the meantime, the coalition of his many enemies, which had constantly tended to unite against him, had conspired to secure his fall and his ruin. The Parliament of Paris had discovered that the imprisonment of Condé was contrary to law; the partisans of the Prince and the noblesse of the Fronde denounced the Italian tyrant and trickster; and Gondi, disappointed at not having obtained the cardinal's hat which had been the price of his late alliance with the Court and its friends, had no difficulty in stirring up the capital against 'Madame Anne' and her abhorred minion.' The League was assisted and bound together by Anne of Gonzaga, the Princess Palatine, one of the most remarkable women of her day, and perhaps one of Condé's many light loves; and a compact was formed which strikingly shows the base selfishness of the factions of the time. The Cardinal was to be driven out of France; the worthless Duke of Orleans was to be thrust upon the Queen; and Condé was to be set free and restored to his honours. The terms of the bargain were that the little Duc d'Enghien was to be betrothed to a daughter of Gaston; that Condé's brother, Conti, was to wed Mademoiselle de Chevreuse-perhaps a castoff mistress of Gondi-and that an overture should be made to Rome to secure for that saintly Churchman the coveted red hat.

Mazarin seems to have been taken by surprise, and failed to make head against his plotting enemies. He had removed Condé from Vincennes at the approach of Turenne, and had ultimately sent the Prince to Havre; and, with characteristic want of dignity-an attitude which Richelieu would have scorned to take-he endeavoured to make peace with his captive enemy, who sent him away with a loud laugh of derision. The conspirators suddenly found themselves in power; the Cardinal was compelled to leave the kingdom; and Anne of Austria was nearly swept away by a rising which had been got up in Paris.

'The city is under arms; a close watch is set on the Regent. Two years before, in less difficult circumstances, she had Condé and Mazarin at her side; she had the sword of the one, the counsels of the other. To-day she is helpless and isolated. As we contemplate this spectacle we think of the Dauphin Charles, in face of Etienne Marcel, after the battle of Poitiers, or of Louis XVI. when brought back from Varennes;

and Mazarin was, perhaps, not far from the truth when he exasperated the Parliament and the Fronde by comparing the demagogues of Paris to Fairfax and Cromwell.'

The Queen had to submit to the hard terms of the plotters, and Condé was released from bondage and placed at the head of the Court. The best face was put on a humiliating scene; but from this time forward young Louis XIV. hated his rebel cousin with a vindictive hatred. The curtain fell on one of the rapid transformations so frequent in the drama of the Fronde.

"The Regent, the King, we may almost say the prisoners of the Palais Royal, repressed their regrets and their feelings. Condé was courteously received. Anne of Austria, stretched on a couch, could hardly restrain her tears. Louis XIV., already master of himself, "caressed Monsieur le Prince." The same evening there was a supper and a dance at the house of Monsieur, the next day high play at Marshal Gramont's, and a ball given by Madame de Chevreuse. The Parliament held a solemn sitting, and Society visited the Prince.

'What a spectacle! Mazarin hurled from power at the moment when victory seemed to have confirmed his authority, humbly imploring the help, the protection of one held by him in captivity during thirteen months, the Coadjutor and Beaufort, and those who had planned the ruin of Condé, coming forward and ranging themselves behind him; the Court, the Fronde at the feet of the enemy, so often denounced, who had but yesterday been dragged from fortress to fortress, as though no prison harsh and cruel enough could be found for him; Paris lighting up for his return the festal fires which a year before shed their blaze on his dungeon. May we not repeat with the author of the "Maxims," "Everything happens in France"?'

After this triumph over the Queen and Mazarin, Condé seemed, for a time, the master of events; yet, within six months, he was at open war with those who had taken him out of prison and had placed him on the topmost height of power; and he had become a rebel fugitive, who had not scrupled to call on France to revolt from her King and to enter into a league with her worst enemy. The Duc d'Aumale does not deny his guilt; the Prince, indeed, has confessed it himself.

The die had been cast. The hour had come with its solemn voice, and Condé had not listened. There is no longer a Spanish regent, an alien minister. Of what account is the legal fiction, the pretended minority, in fact, succeeding the minority by right? Of what account? It is the King, the King of France, whose reign begins. All those who retain in their hearts the ancient national traditions think that the sky is clearing, are awaiting the era of quiet, of the peace which should follow chaos and the odious conflict of rival ambitions. Cursed be the authors of trouble, who would prolong war and the sufferings of the