Prince Eugene and his times

Front matter

.

M

*

Introduction

Eugene of Savoy, the fifth and youngest son of Prince Eugene Maurice of Savoy-Carignan, Count of Soissons, and of Mazarin's niece Olympia Mancini, was born at Paris on October 18, 1663. At the age of ten he lost his father, and thereafter was neglected by his mother, who finally had to flee from Paris, as set forth in the opening pages of this story. Prince Eugene had been destined for the Church, but prayed Louis XIV for a commission in the army. When this was contemptuously refused him he followed his elder brother Louis to Austria in 1683, and took service as a cavalry officer. The author follows closely the events of the early years of his career — the fight at Petronell, where his brother fell, and the part he took in Sobieski’s campaign for the relief of Vienna, and in Charles of Lorraine’s campaign against the Turks, notably at the capture of Buda and the battle of Mohacs (1687). For six years Eugene served the emperor in Italy against the French, was made field-marshal in 1693, and four years later won in that capacity the great battle of Zenta against the Turks, which forced the Sultan to the Peace of Carlowicz (1699), which acknowledged Austria’s supremacy in Hungary and Siebenburgen.

Meanwhile the War of the Spanish Succession had broken out (1697), and in 1701 Prince Eugene crossed the Alps — a march as celebrated as that of Hannibal before him and of Napoleon after him — entered northern Italy, defeated the French at Carpi and Chiari, and held at bay the much larger army of Vendome. Louis XIV having fostered a rebellion in Hungary, Eugene was called to Vienna, in 1703, where the

iii

IV

PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES.

emperor made him President of the Council of War, and employed his great diplomatic gifts as well as his military genius. The French, meanwhile, though victorious in Germany, had been defeated repeatedly in the Netherlands by Marlborough, who marched toward the Danube, and, together with Prince Eugene, who had hastened back from Hungary with his troops, inflicted at Blenheim upon the French invaders the crushing defeat that sent them flying back to the Rhine (August 13, 1704). Eugene then turned again to Italy, and in 1706 drove the French entirely from its territories. At the battle of Turin (September 7, 1706), the Prussian troops under Prince Leopold of Dessau distinguished themselves particularly. In 1708 Prince Eugene, again united with Marlborough, won the victory of Oudenarde and took Lille, while on September 11th of the following year the two commanders defeated Marshal Villars at Malplaquet. France was utterly exhausted and sued for peace on the most humiliating terms, which were rejected by the allies. Then Marlborough’s wife fell in disgrace, Queen Anne recalled him, and England began secret negotiations for peace. In 1711 the Emperor Joseph I died, and was succeeded by the pretender to the Spanish crown, Archduke Charles, whereupon Holland, afraid that the union of Spain and Austria would disturb the balance of power, gradually gave up the war. Prince Eugene won a series of successes in France in the following year, but was finally forced to retreat by Marshal Villars, who cut off his supplies. The Peace of Utrecht (1713) practically put an end to the War of the Spanish Succession, though the Emperor Charles rejected its terms. Prince Eugene tried to carry on the war along the upper Rhine, but was unable to cope, without assistance, with France’s superior forces. Finally, on March 7, 1714, he and Marshal Villars, his great opponent, concluded peace at Rastadt for their respective rulers.

In 1716 war with Turkey broke out again. Prince Eugene won the battle of Peter wardein and took Temesvar in that year, and in 1717 Belgrade — an event that was celebrated in a popular song which is generally heard in Germany and Austria even at the present day. After concluding the Peace of Passarowitz, Eugene returned to Vienna, where he held the

INTRODUCTION.

Y first place among the emperor’s advisers. To the last he took a deep and active interest in architecture, art, and science, and stood in constant correspondence with the leading scientists and thinkers of Europe. He took the field once again in 1734, against the French, but with entirely insufficient forces. His advice was followed in the following year, and peace restored. On April 21, 1736, Prince Eugene of Savoy was found dead in bed.

The “ little abbe,” to whom Louis XIV sneeringly had refused a place in his army, became one of his most powerful enemies, and one of the greatest commanders of his age. Like Marlborough, the man with whom he was most closely allied in military affairs, Prince Eugene was a great statesman as well as a great soldier ; but, unlike the English commander, he was personally honest, pure of mind and life, and noble of character. He was the greatest soldier Austria ever possessed, and by far her greatest statesman, and he achieved more for his adopted country than any of her own children ever accomplished. His reckless personal courage, even more than his leadership, made him an almost legendary figure in the eyes of the German people ; and, as already said, his name lives to this day in legend and folk-song.

Leopold I, as second son originally destined for the Church, and educated by the Jesuits, was sincerely a man of peace. Yet his long reign (1658-1705) was an almost unbroken succession of wars. His character, with its piety, jealousy of his power and suspicion of his advisers, is well set forth by the author, who has succeeded also in doing ample justice to Duke Charles of Lorraine, Count Starhemberg, the defender of Vienna against the Turks, and, above all, to Sobieski, whom the emperor treated with such scant courtesy after he had saved his realm.

That Louis XIV was unaware of the atrocities committed in his name by the French troops in the Palatinate is unquestionably true. The order was given by Louvois, and was the direct cause of that minister’s fall. The author brings out sharply the enmity between Madame de Maintenon and the powerful war minister, who had bitterly opposed Louis’s marriage to her, and succeeded in keeping the king from pub-

VI

PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES.

licly acknowledging her as his wife. It was she, rather than the Duchess of Orleans, who drew Louis’s attention to the devastation of the Rhine country by his troops, and thus brought about Louvois’s fall from power. The account of his death is historically exact, except in so far as the appearance of the Comtesse de Soissons is concerned. This, however, is a legitimate dramatic climax employed with rare effect by the accomplished author.

Book I. Chapter

PAGE

I. — The Countess of Soissons

II. — The Laboratory

III. — Prince Eugene

IV. — The Riot

. 23

V. — Barbesieur Louvois .

VI. — The State Reception

VII. — Help in Time of Need .

VIII.— The Flight ....

IX. — The Parting ....

BOOK II. I. — Marianna Mancini 84

II.— The Trial 90

III. — A Skirmish 99

IV. — Louvois’ Daughter 109

Y. — The Court-Ball 119

YI. — The Lady of the Bedchamber 126

VII. — The Lady of the Bedchamber 138

VIII. — First Love 146

IX. — The Betrayal 156

BOOK III. I. — The Disappointment 162

II.— The Foes 170

III. — The Repulse 175

vii

CONTENTS.

viii

CHAPTER

IV. — The Farewell .

V. — A Page from History

VI. — The Emperor Leopold I

VII. — The Council of War

VIII. — The Plains of Kitsee

IX. — The Baptism of Blood

X. — Vienna

XI. — The Re-enforcements

PAGE

BOOK IV. I.— The Fall of Buda 244

II.— The Friends 253

III. — The Marquis Strozzi 266

IV. — Laura 275

V. — The Regatta 284

VI. — The Negotiator 299

VII. — The Lovers reunited 311

VIII. — Antonio’s Expiation 322

IX. — The Dungeon . . 325

BOOK V. I. — A Twofold Victory 331

II. — The Dumb Music 342

III. — The Retirement of the Commander-in-Chief . . 347

IV. — The Fall of Belgrade 356

V. — The Marchioness 364

VI. — The Flight 374

VII. — The Forester’s Hut 380

BOOK VI. I. — Sister Angelica 386

II. — Louis the Fourteenth 394

III. — The King and the Petitioners 401

IV. — The Window that was too large 407

V. — The Imperial Diet at Regensburg . . . .415

VI. — The Judith of Esslingen 424

VII. — Her Return 432

CONTENTS.

IX

Book VII. Chapter Page

I. — The Island of Bliss 436

II. — The French in Speier 440

III. — The Treasure 446

IV. — Caspar’s Vengeance 451

V. — The Duchess of Orleans 454

VI. — The Deliverance of Trier 458

VII. — The Fire- tongs 466

VIII. — Brave Hearts . 471

BOOK VIII. I. — The Advance into France 480

II. — The Ravens 485

III. — Sick and Well 498

IV. — The Duke’s Dangerous Illness 499

V. — The Marquis Strozzi 508

VI. — Insanity and Revenge 512

VII. — The Ambrosia 521

VIII. — The Betrothal 580

IX. — Vengeance 539

....

PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES.

Chapter I. The Countess Of Soissons

“ Is that your last word, madame ? ” said Louvois, in a tone so emphatic as to be almost threatening.

“ My last word,” replied the countess, haughtily. “ My daughter is too young to marry, and were she older, I would not impose a husband upon her who was not the man of her choice. She shall bestow her hand and heart together.”

“ Do you mean that it is impossible for your daughter to love* my son ? ” asked Louvois, hastily.

The countess raised her shoulders and smiled superciliously, while from her large black eyes there darted forth a glance that spoke volumes to the mind of the irritated minister.

“ It would appear,” said she, “ that there can be no sympathy between the Mancinis and the Louvois, and that their antipathies are to be perpetuated from generation to generation.”

“You would remind me of the similarity which the fate of my son as a wooer hears to that of his father ? ” asked Louvois. “ I do not deny it ; the repulse which twenty-one years ago I received from Olympia Mancini, she repeats to-day in the person of her daughter. But it may be that on some other occasion the Mancinis shall be repulsed by the Louvois.”

“ A threat ? ” said the countess, angrily.

Now it was the shoulders of the minister that were raised. “ I have sowed love and reaped hate,” said he, quietly.

PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES.

The countess laughed. “ Ah,” said she, “ I see that you have remodelled your speech according to the pious formulary of Madame de Maintenon, and that you seek for your troubadours among the prophets.”

“Yes — the Scriptural prophets satisfy my cravings for knowledge,” replied Louvois, smiling. “ Pity that everybody else is not as orthodox as I ! ”

“ What do you mean ? ” asked the countess, uneasily.

“ I mean that it would be better for the Countess de Soissons if she imitated the discretion of Madame de Maintenon, and eschewed association with those unholy prophets who draw their inspiration from the stars.”

“ Do you think so ? And yet the book of the stars is inspired and contains truth, for therein it stands written that our two families will never be united by the bonds of love. What is the use of striving against destiny ? Fate has willed our enmity, and we must submit with resignation,” said the countess, with an affected drawl. “ You see,” added she, pathetically, •“ how beautifully I fall into your new-fashioned dialect, and how harmoniously my dulcet notes mingle with those of the court chorus.”

“ I remember the dulcet notes of a poem written years ago, which were wont to edify the court with a strain that would sound inharmonious there to-day. What would De Montespan and De Maintenon say to such discordant lines as these ? ” And Louvois began to hum the following :

“ La belle Olympe n’a point de seconde,

“What they would say?” replied the countess; “why, they would listen approvingly to a rhapsody which time has falsified, and imagine that I wince to hear it sung. But they would be in error. I thank you for recalling to my mind the golden vision of the past, wherein a king knelt at my feet, and

* “Les Nieces de Mazarion,” par Renee, p. 177.

THE COUNTESS OF SOISSONS.

Louvois lived upon my smiles. She who can look back upon conquests such as these, can afford to despise the contrarieties of the present, while she plumes her victorious wings for future flight, wherein she shall attain indemnification for the trifling vexations of to-day.”

“ I wish you may realize your joyous anticipations,” replied Louvois, with a sneer. “But if you will allow me to draw your horoscope, you will confess that I am a wiser seer than your dear friend La Voisin.”

For one moment the features of the countess contracted painfully, but she mastered her emotion and was able to reply with a tranquil smile, — “ Do so, your excellency, I am all attention.”

“ I read in the stars that snares encompass you, Countess de Soissons. You have enemies, numerous, powerful, and crafty. At their head stands the queen, who can never forgive you for having opened one of her letters, and having stolen thence a note addressed to the king, which accused her of secret machinations with Spain. Then there is poor Louise de la Valliere, who for your cruel sarcasms shed such oceans of tears — ”

“ She is in a convent.”

“True, but the scars of your persecutions are upon her heart; and although she may be a Christian, think you that she has ceased to be a woman ? Third — among the number of those who hate you is the Marquise de Montespan, to whom the brilliant assemblages at the Hotel de Soissons are a source of mortification, for she can never forget that, on more than one occasion, the king has forgotten his rendezvous with her, to linger at the side of his fascinating hostess. And we must not overlook the pious De Maintenon, who lives in constant terror lest some day or other your presence should recall to the king that golden vision of his youth, whereof Olympia Mancini was the enshrined divinity. For this reason you are more obnoxious to the ex-governess than De Montespan herself. The star of the latter favorite is already on the wane, whereas yours may rise again at the bidding of Memory. These four women have long meditated your destruction, and many are the thorns with which they have strewed your path in life. But, to compass your ruin, there was wanting one

PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES.

strong arm that could concentrate their scattered missiles, and hurl them in one great bomb at your head. Countess de Soissons, that arm is mine — I, Louvois, the trusted minister of the king, the friend of De Maintenon, the mightiest subject in France — I am the man whose arm shall strike on behalf of your enemies, of whom in me behold the chief ! You have thrown me your gauntlet, and I raise it. I proclaim myself your foe, and since there must be war between our races, we shall see whether for the future the Mancinis may not be made to suffer through the Louvois ! This is my horoscope, and now mark well my last words: La Voisin the soothsayer was arrested last night.”

All the self-control which she could gather to meet this sinister disclosure, could not smother the groan which was upheaved from Olympia’s sinking heart.

Louvois affected not to hear it. He bowed low and prepared to take his leave. The countess made no effort to detain him; she was too frightened for circumspection, and she followed his retreating figure with eyes that were all aflame with hate. Nor did their fiery glow abate when, having reached the door, Louvois turned and confronted her.

He surveyed her calmly, but his eye returned hate for hate, and so for a moment they stared at each other, while there passed between the two a silent challenge, which both felt was to be fought out to the death.

After a pause Louvois spoke. His mouth dilated with a cruel smile, which, when its mocking light was seen, betokened peril to those who offended him.

“ Madame,” said he, “not only has La Voisin been arrested, but her private papers have been seized.” So saying, he bowed again and disappeared behind the portiere.

THE LABORATORY.

Chapter II. The Laboratory

The countess listened to his echoing footsteps until they were no longer audible, nor did she move until she heard the roll of the carriage which bore him away.

Gradually the sound of the receding vehicle melted into distance, and a deep silence ensued. This silence first roused the countess from her lethargy. A tremor convulsed her limbs ; her dilated orbs which had been fixed upon the door relaxed, and wandered from the silken hangings of the walls to the gilded furniture around her ; from the tables of Florentine marble to the rainbow-tinted chandeliers, whose pendants swayed to and fro in the sunshine. And now they rested dreamily upon a picture which, conspicuous for size and beauty, hung immediately opposite to the sofa whereon she was reclining. It was the full length portrait of a handsome youth. He was not tall, but he was gracefully proportioned. His shoulders were broad; and, rising from the midst of a slender throat, adorned with a fall of lace, appeared his stately head crowned with a wealth of long, brown curls. His face was of a beautiful oval, his complexion clear, his mouth wreathed with happy smiles. The brow was high and arched, and the fine gray eyes beamed with hope and energy. In one hand he held a rose, which he extended to a person not represented in the picture; the other hand, half- veiled by its overhanging fall of gossamer lace, rested carelessly on the table, while close by lay two rose-buds, which seemed just to have been dropped from the half-open fingers. Over an arm-chair in the background was thrown a mantle of royal ermine, which partially concealed the kingly crown that surmounted its high carved back.

The eyes of the countess were fixed upon this picture with an expression of tender sadness, and slowly, as if yielding to an influence altogether objective, she rose from her seat and advanced toward the portrait, where she remained gazing

PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES.

until her sight was dimmed by tears, while the youth smiled ever, and ever held out the rose.

What golden tribute had his homage brought to her ambition! What ecstasy had it poured into her heart! How truly had she loved that princely boy, who, careless, happy, and fickle, was bestowing upon other women the roses which for her had withered years ago, leaving upon their blighted stems the sharp and cruel thorns of his inconstancy !

Since then, twenty-three years had gone by; she had become a wife and the mother of seven children, but the wound still festered ; the old sorrow still sang its mournful dirge within a heart which to-day beat as wildly as ever, and felt a pang as keen as when it first grew jealous, and learned that not she, but Marie, had become the divinity whom Louis worshipped.

Marie, too, had been forsaken, and had stifled the cries of her despairing heart by marriage with another. The fate of both sisters had been the same — a short dream of gratified ambition, followed by long years of humiliation. It seemed that the prosperity and happiness of Cardinal Mazarin’s nieces had been coexistent with his life, for when the eyes of their uncle closed in death, the light of their fortunes grew dim and expired.

The portrait of Louis XIV., which was calling up the spectres of so many buried joys, had been painted expressly for Olympia Mancini. It represented his first declaration of love to her, and had been sent as a souvenir of “ the brightest hour of his life. ” He had barely reached his thirty-seventh year, and yet this winsome youth had been transformed into a demure devotee, who, despising the vanities of the world, had turned his heart toward heaven, and spent his life doing penance for the sins of his early manhood!

And this transformation was the work of a woman who had neither beauty, youth, nor birth to recommend her to the favor of a monarch— a woman who had been the paid governess of the king’s bastards, and was not even gifted with intellect enough to cover her other deficiencies !

These last thoughts brought a smile to the face of the countess. Turning suddenly away from the portrait she crossed the room with rapid steps, and placed herself directly

THE LABORATORY.

in front of a large Venetian mirror which occupied the space between two windows. It gave back the reflection of an exquisite figure, whose outlines contributed much to the grace with which the folds of a blue satin dress fell in rich profusion around it. The white shoulders were scarcely concealed by a shawl of superb lace, and the arms, still round, were set off by costly bracelets. The raven hair, with not a trace of time’s finger to discolor its glossy blackness, fell around her face in curls as delicate as the tendrils of a grape. Her brow was smooth and polished, her eyes aglow with passionate longing, and, as her lips curved into a complacent smile, they disclosed two rows of pearly teeth, compact and without a fleck.

Yes, she was not deceived. Olympia de Soissons was a handsome woman, and with so much comeliness, such ready wit, and such unrivalled powers of conversation, she might gird up her loins to do battle with her rivals. Was not Madame de Maintenon her elder by three years? And as for De Montespan, was she not wasting away into an old woman? If they hack found it possible to win the heart of this sensual Louis, why not she ? This heart had once been all her own, and why should not she, who combined the beauty of one mistress with the shrewdness of the other, dispossess them both, and re-enter into possession of her old domains ?

She smiled again, and saw how well her smiles became her. “Yes,” said she to herself, “yes, I will recall this truant merlin, and he shall return to perch upon the hand he used to love ! I will be mistress of his heart and mistress of his realms. She foretold it all, and gave me the charm wherewith to work the spell.”

But as she gave utterance to these last words, her lips began to quiver, and her fine features were distorted by some sudden pain. She had just called to mind the fearful intelligence of La Voisin’s arrest.

“ Great God ! If my letters should have been found among her papers ! What, oh what would be my fate ? ”

She shuddered — and in place of the triumphant vision of a heart recaptured, a monarch at her feet, there arose the fearful spectacle of an execution which, four years before, she had witnessed at the bloody Place de Greve. Once more she saw

PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES.

the square, black with a mass of human beings, who, jeering, shouting, and cursing, moved hither and thither like the waves of a turbulent ocean ; at every window that looked out upon the place, she saw gayly-dressed ladies who peered anxiously out to catch a glimpse of one gloomy object that loomed darkly up from its centre. She saw the crowd give way and part, as, keeping pace with the dull sound of a muffled drum, a sad procession entered upon the scene. At its head marched a battalion of soldiers, and behind them, seated in the felon’s cart, came a pale, beautiful woman, who ever and anon pressed to her quivering lips the crucifix held out to her by a priest — that last link of sympathy between the convict and his fellow-creatures. At the criminal’s side, in symbolic robes of sanguinary red, was the executioner that was to sever this slender tie, and wrench the spirit from the body to whose guardianship God had committed it on earth. Silently the hideous cortege moved on, while the crowd fell back to let it pass, until the scatfold came to view. How joyously the sun’s rays seemed to play around the glittering axe that was to end a career of secret crime ! How eagerly the high-born dames bend forward to catch sight of the criminal, as, leaning on the arm of the priest, she tottered to her doom ! Olympia remembered only too well the moment when the drum ceased its “ discordant sound,” and w r hen the silence was so oppressive that the low voice of the condemned was heard uttering her last prayer. She knelt beside the block — a circle of light was described upon the air— and the head fell upon the blood-besprinkled sand.

The Countess de Soissons sickened as she remembered that the woman whom she had seen executed was one of high position, no less a personage than the beautiful and fascinating Marquise de Brinvilliers. Neither her rank, her charms, nor the strenuous efforts of her powerful friends, had been adequate to save her from the headsman’s axe. She had been convicted of poisoning, and had shared the fate of other malefactors of less repute. Her confidante La Yoisin had been arrested at the time, but as nothing proved her to have been an accomplice of her former mistress she had escaped conviction.

Something new with regard to the fortune-teller must have

THE LABORATORY.

transpired, for Louvois had considered her arrest as an illomen for the Countess de Soissons. Not only for Olympia, however, was the arrest of Catherine a calamity, for she was the trusty counsellor of many a noble lady who, before suspicion had sullied her name, had been the dear and intimate associate of the Marquise de Brinvilliers.

The countess had turned away from the contemplation of her mellow charms, and was on her way to her boudoir. She bolted the door within, and, crossing the room, mounted a chair that stood by the side of a tall mirror set in a thick gilt frame. She touched a spring, when the mirror glided noiselessly aside, revealing a dark recess within the wall.

Olympia slipped through the opening, which closed behind her, darted up a narrow staircase, and, hastily drawing a key from a pocket concealed within the folds of her dress, she unlocked the door of a room whose aspect was anything but appropriate to the pursuits of a lady of quality.

It was to all appearances a kitchen, for one entire side of it was occupied by a hearth full of recesses, each one of which contained a furnace fitted up with iron utensils for cooking. On the mantel, which corresponded to this immense hearth, were ranged pipkins and other vessels of different sizes, interspersed with rows of phials and flasks containing liquids of every imaginable color. On a massive oaken table, in the centre of the apartment, were placed a number of bowls and dishes, and near them lay a disorderly pile of papers, books, and pamphlets.

Olympia approached the hearth, stooped over one of the furnaces, and from a fagot lying near gathered a few small sticks. Over these sticks she poured a fluid from one of her flasks, and then rubbing them briskly together, they began to emit sparks. She placed them under the furnace, added a little more fuel, and in a few moments had a good fire.

She now sprang to her feet, and hastily pushing aside a row of pipkins, opened a small door which had been concealed behind them, above the mantel. From a recess within the wall she took a brass-bound casket, which she placed upon the table.

The casket contained some books, papers, and several di- 2

PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES.

minutive phials. One of these phials she held up to the light, contemplating its contents with manifest satisfaction.

“ Herein lies the spell that is to lure my faithless monarch hack again. La Voisin may rot in prison, but her mantle of science has fallen upon me, and her secrets are mine. Her last, best gift shall restore me to my throne. Not only did she leave me the means of success, but she foretold the certainty of that success besides. It must be so: La Yoisin never erred in her predictions, and I shall triumph ! ”

Pressing the phial to her lips, Olympia hid it beneath the folds of her lace tucker, murmuring the while, “I shall sip of this nectar anon; for the present, I must provide for discovery.”

She took the papers that lay in the casket, and weighing them in her hand said musingly:

“ How light they are, and yet how heavy was the gold with which I purchased them! ’Tis a pity they should be destroyed : what if I should forget ? But no ! oblivion of their treasured secrets were impossible to me ; so away with you ! You might turn traitors, and I had best anticipate treachery by destruction.”

Then followed the books and the contents of the phials remaining in the casket. The blue flames leaped high as these last were added to the cremation, and the room became oppressive with their unwholesome vapor.

“ The window must be opened,” said Olympia. “ This odor might betray me. People might suspect me of having cooked arsenic in my kitchen instead of onions.”