he party of the Fronde. I followed the Duke of Enghien, her
brother, to the attack on Courtray, then to Mardick, where I was
wounded; and this time of military service united me more closely to his
later interests.

By the year 1647 everyone was weary of Mazarin's rule. His bad faith,
his weakness, and his trickiness were becoming known, provinces and
towns alike were groaning under taxation, and the citizens of Paris were
reduced to mere despair. Parliament tried respectful remonstrances in
vain; the cardinal thought himself safe in the servility of the nation.
But the great majority in France desired a change, and then smouldering
discontent soon burst into a flame.

The Duke of Enghien, who had become, by the death of his father, Prince
of Conde, had gained in 1648 a great victory in Flanders, and a solemn
thanksgiving was held in Notre Dame to celebrate it. Mazarin chose this
moment for the arrest of Broussel and other members of parliament who
had voiced most urgently the public distress. The action roused Paris to
a fury which astonished him; the people sought him to tear him to
pieces; barricades were erected in the streets, and the king and queen
were besieged in the royal palace. Resistance to the parliament's
demands were at the moment impossible; the prisoners had to be released.

I was at this time absent from Paris, having been sent down by the queen
to my government at Poitou, which I had purchased; the province was
almost in insurrection and I had to pacify it. I happened to be deeply
wounded by a new slight which Cardinal Mazarin had put upon me, when
Madame de Longueville sent for me to come to Paris, informing me that
the whole plan for a civil war had been drawn up, and asking for my
counsel in the matter. The news delighted me, and I arrived at the
capital eager for my revenge on the queen and the cardinal.

Mazarin, on the other hand, had formed his plan. Realising that Paris
was unsafe, he determined to leave it, to place the king at
Saint-Germain, and to lay siege to the city, which would soon be reduced
to famine and dissensions. Their escape was made at midnight on the eve
of Epiphany, 1649, all the court following in great disorder.

The city was for a time in much perplexity, but the arrival of the Duke
of Beaufort, who had broken prison at Vincennes, put heart into the
people, who took him for their liberator. Other great personages threw
in their lot with the popular cause; a large war-c