st on the list,
although a humble--we were going to say, a humiliated, disdained, and
sacrificed wife; a martyr to conjugal faith, but who, perhaps, can
scarcely be called a "political" woman.

Mademoiselle de Breze, as already intimated, had entered into the Conde
family through the detestable influence of authority and politics. The
Duke d'Enghien, therefore, unhappily held his wife in aversion; her
mother-in-law, Charlotte de Montmorency, despised her; Madame de
Longueville, her sister-in-law, did not esteem her; Mademoiselle de
Montpensier declares that "she felt pity for her," and that was the
gentlest phrase she could find to apply to a person who had so signally
crossed her views and inclination.

Married at thirteen to the future hero of Rocroy and Lens, both before
marriage and again more strongly after, the young Duke had protested by
a formal act that he yielded only to compulsion and his respect for
paternal authority in giving her his hand. Henry (II.), Prince de Conde,
who thus exacted his son's compliance, merely followed his usual
instincts as a greedy and ambitious courtier in seeking an alliance with
Cardinal Richelieu, whose niece Mademoiselle de Breze was, through her
mother, Nicole du Plessis. Mademoiselle de Montpensier, who thought that
she had more reason than any one else to be indignant at the match,
tells us plainly that the Prince threw himself at the feet of his
eminence to solicit from him both Mademoiselle de Breze for the Duke
d'Enghien, and M. de Breze, her brother, for Mademoiselle de Bourbon,
and that he only escaped from the disgrace of a double _mesalliance_
through the Cardinal's clemency, who, in reply, told him that "he was
quite willing to give untitled young ladies to princes, but not
princesses to untitled young gentlemen."

Did the young Duchess personally merit that aversion and contempt?
Mademoiselle has told us, indeed, that she was awkward, and that, "on
the score of wit and beauty, she had nothing above the common run." But
Madame de Motteville, less passionate and more disinterested in her
judgments, recognises certain advantages possessed by her. "She was not
plain," she tells us, "but had fine eyes, a good complexion, and a
pretty figure. She spoke well when she was in the humour to talk." The
discerning court lady adds that, "if Madame de Conde did not always
display a talent for pleasing in the ball-room or in conversation, the
fidelity with which she clung to her