Memoirs of Madame de Montespan — Complete eBook (2024)

Memoirs of Madame de Montespan — Complete

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Table of Contents
Section	Page
Start of eBook	1
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS	1
BOOK 1.	1
HISTORIC COURT MEMOIRS.	2
CHAPTER I.	2
CHAPTER II.	2
CHAPTER III.	3
CHAPTER IV.	8
CHAPTER V.	9
CHAPTER VI.	10
CHAPTER VII.	12
CHAPTER VIII.	13
CHAPTER IX.	15
CHAPTER X.	17
CHAPTER XI.	18
CHAPTER XII.	20
CHAPTER XIII.	21
CHAPTER XIV.	25
CHAPTER XV.	28
CHAPTER XVI.	29
BOOK 2.	31
CHAPTER XVII.	31
CHAPTER XVIII.	32
CHAPTER XIX.	34
CHAPTER XX.	36
CHAPTER XXI.	38
CHAPTER XXII.	39
CHAPTER XXIII.	39
CHAPTER XXIV.	41
CHAPTER XXV.	43
CHAPTER XXVI.	45
CHAPTER XXVII.	47
CHAPTER XXVIII.	48
CHAPTER XXIX.	49
CHAPTER XXX.	51
CHAPTER XXXI.	53
CHAPTER XXXII.	55
CHAPTER XXXIII.	56
CHARLES	57
CHAPTER XXXIV.	59
BOOK 3.	61
CHAPTER XXXV.	61
CHAPTER XXXVI.	64
CHAPTER XXXVII	69
CHAPTER XXXVIII.	72
CHAPTER XXXIX.	73
CHAPTER XL.	75
CHAPTER XLI.	76
CHAPTER XLII.	78
CHAPTER XLIII.	80
CHAPTER XLIV.	82
CHAPTER XLV.	84
CHAPTER XLVI.	85
CHAPTER XLVII.	89
CHAPTER XLVIII.	90
BOOK 4.	91
CHAPTER XLIX.	91
CHAPTER L.	95
CHAPTER LI.	97
CHAPTER LII.	98
CHAPTER LIII.	100
CHAPTER LIV.	102
CHAPTER LV.	104
CHAPTER LVI	105
CHAPTER LVII.	108
CHAPTER LVIII.	110
CHAPTER LIX.	112
CHAPTER LX.	117
CHAPTER LXI.	121
BOOK 5.	125
CHAPTER I.	125
CHAPTER II.	128
CHAPTER III.	131
CHAPTER IV.	133
CHAPTER V.	134
CHAPTER VI.	136
CHAPTER VII.	138
CHAPTER VIII.	140
CHAPTER IX.	141
CHAPTER X.	143
CHAPTER XI.	145
CHAPTER XII.	147
CHAPTER XIII.	149
CHAPTER XIV.	150
CHAPTER XV.	152
CHAPTER XVI.	154
CHAPTER XVII.	157
CHAPTER XVIII.	159
BOOK 6.	161
CHAPTER XIX.	161
CHAPTER XX.	163
CHAPTER XXI.	165
CHAPTER XXII.	166
CHAPTER XXIII.	167
CHAPTER XXIV.	170
CHAPTER XXV.	173
CHAPTER XXVI.	175
CHAPTER XXVII.	177
CHAPTER XXVIII.	178
CHAPTER XXIX.	182
CHAPTER XXX.	185
CHAPTER XXXI.	186
CHAPTER XXXII.	188
CHAPTER XXXIII.	191
CHAPTER XXXIV.	193
CHAPTER XXXV.	196
CHAPTER XXXVI.	202
BOOK 7.	206
CHAPTER XXXVII	206
CHAPTER XXXVIII.	209
CHAPTER XXXIV.	211
CHAPTER XL.	215
CHAPTER XLI.	218
CHAPTER XLII.	220
CHAPTER XLIII.	224
CHAPTER XLIV.	227
CHAPTER XLV.	229
CHAPTER XLVI.	233
CHAPTER XLVII.	236
THE ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS:	243

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Madame de Montespan——­Etching byMercier

Hortense Mancini——­Drawing in theLouvre

Madame de la Valliere——­Paintingby Francois

Moliere——­Original Etching by Lalauze

Boileau——­Etching by Lalauze

A French Courtier——­Photogravurefrom a Painting

Madame de Maintenon——­Etching byMercier from Painting by Hule

Charles II.——­Original Etching byBen Damman

Bosseut——­Etching by Lalauze

Louis XIV. Knighting a Subject——­Photogravurefrom a Rare Print

A French Actress——­Painting by LeonComerre

Racine——­Etching by Lalauze

BOOK 1.

TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE.

Historians have, on the whole, dealt somewhat harshlywith the fascinating Madame de Montespan, perhapstaking their impressions from the judgments, oftennarrow and malicious, of her contemporaries. Tohelp us to get a fairer estimate, her own “Memoirs,”written by herself, and now first given to readersin an English dress, should surely serve. Avowedlycompiled in a vague, desultory way, with no particularregard to chronological sequence, these random recollectionsshould interest us, in the first place, as a pieceof unconscious self-portraiture. The cynicalCourt lady, whose beauty bewitched a great King, andwhose ruthless sarcasm made duch*esses quail, is heredrawn for us in vivid fashion by her own hand, andwhile concerned with depicting other figures she reallyportrays her own. Certainly, in these Memoirsshe is generally content to keep herself in the background,while giving us a faithful picture of the brilliantCourt at which she was for long the most lustrous ornament.It is only by stray touches, a casual remark, a chancephrase, that we, as it were, gauge her temperamentin all its wiliness, its egoism, its love of supremacy,and its shallow worldly wisdom. Yet it couldhave been no ordinary woman that held the handsomeLouis so long her captive. The fair Marquisewas more than a mere leader of wit and fashion. If she set the mode in the shape of a petticoat,or devised the sumptuous splendours of a garden fete,her talent was not merely devoted to things frivolousand trivial. She had the proverbial ‘espritdes Mortemart’. Armed with beauty and sarcasm,she won a leading place for herself at Court, andheld it in the teeth of all detractors.

Her beauty was for the King, her sarcasm for his courtiers. Perhaps little of this latter quality appears inthe pages bequeathed to us, written, as they are,in a somewhat cold, formal style, and we may assumethat her much-dreaded irony resided in her tongue ratherthan in her pen. Yet we are glad to possess thesepages, if only as a reliable record of Court lifeduring the brightest period of the reign of Louis Quatorze.

As we have hinted, they are more, indeed, than this. For if we look closer we shall perceive, as in aglass, darkly, the contour of a subtle, even a perplexing,personality.

P. E. P.

HISTORIC COURT MEMOIRS.

Madame de Montespan.

CHAPTER I.

The Reason for Writing These Memoirs.—­Gabrielled’Estrees.

The reign of the King who now so happily and so gloriouslyrules over France will one day exercise the talentof the most skilful historians. But these menof genius, deprived of the advantage of seeing thegreat monarch whose portrait they fain would draw,will search everywhere among the souvenirs of contemporariesand base their judgments upon our testimony. It is this great consideration which has made me determinedto devote some of my hours of leisure to narrating,in these accurate and truthful Memoirs, the eventsof which I myself am witness.

Naturally enough, the position which I fill at thegreat theatre of the Court has made me the objectof much false admiration, and much real satire. Many men who owed to me their elevation or their successhave defamed me; many women have belittled my positionafter vain efforts to secure the King’s regard. In what I now write, scant notice will be taken ofall such ingratitude. Before my establishmentat Court I had met with hypocrisy of this sort inthe world; and a man must, indeed, be reckless ofexpense who daily entertains at his board a score ofinsolent detractors.

I have too much wit to be blind to the fact that Iam not precisely in my proper place. But, allthings considered, I flatter myself that posteritywill let certain weighty circ*mstances tell in my favour.An accomplished monarch, to greet whom the Queen ofSheba would have come from the uttermost ends of theearth, has deemed me worthy of his entertainment,and has found amusem*nt in my society. He hastold me of the esteem which the French have for Gabrielled’Estrees, and, like that of Gabrielle, my hearthas let itself be captured, not by a great king, butby the most honest man of his realm.

To France, Gabrielle gave the Vendome, to-day oursupport. The princes, my sons, give promiseof virtues as excellent, and will be worthy to aspireto destinies as noble. It is my desire and myduty to give no thought to my private griefs begottenof an ill-assorted marriage. May the King everbe adored by his people; may my children ever be belovedand cherished by the King; I am happy, and I desireto be so.

CHAPTER II.

That Which Often It is Best to Ignore.—­AMarriage Such as One Constantly Sees.—­Itis Too Late.

My sisters thought it of extreme importance to possesspositive knowledge as to their future condition andthe events which fate held in store for them. They managed to be secretly taken to a woman famedfor her talent in casting the horoscope. Buton seeing how overwhelmed by chagrin they both wereafter consulting the oracle, I felt fearful as regardedmyself, and determined to let my star take its owncourse, heedless of its existence, and allowing itcomplete liberty.

My mother occasionally took me out into society afterthe marriage of my sister, De Thianges; and I wasnot slow to perceive that there was in my person somethingslightly superior to the average intelligence,—­certainqualities of distinction which drew upon me the attentionand the sympathy of men of taste. Had any libertybeen granted to it, my heart would have made a choiceworthy alike of my family and of myself. Theywere eager to impose the Marquis de Montespan uponme as a husband; and albeit he was far from possessingthose mental perfections and that cultured charm whichalone make an indefinite period of companionship endurable,I was not slow to reconcile myself to a temperamentwhich, fortunately, was very variable, and which thusserved to console me on the morrow for what had troubledme to-day.

Hardly had my marriage been arranged and celebratedthan a score of the most brilliant suitors expressed,in prose and in verse, their regret at having lostbeyond recall Mademoiselle de Tonnai-Charente. Such elegiac effusions seemed to me unspeakably ridiculous;they should have explained matters earlier, whilethe lists were still open. For persons of thissort I conceived aversion, who were actually so clumsyas to dare to tell me that they had forgotten to askmy hand in marriage!

CHAPTER III.

Madame de Montespan at the Palace.—­M. deMontespan.—­His Indiscreet Language.—­HisAbsence.—­Specimen of His Way of Writing.—­ARefractory Cousin.—­The King Interferes.—­M.de Montespan a Widower.—­Amusem*nt of theKing.—­Clemency of Madame de Montespan.

The Duc and duch*esse de Navailles had long been friendsof my father’s and of my family. Whenthe Queen-mother proceeded to form the new householdof her niece and daughter-in-law, the Infanta, theduch*esse de Navailles, chief of the ladies-in-waiting,bethought herself of me, and soon the Court and Parislearnt that I was one of the six ladies in attendanceon the young Queen.

This princess, who while yet at the Escurial had beenmade familiar with the notable names of the Frenchmonarchy, honoured me during the journey by alludingin terms of regard to the Mortemarts and Rochechouarts,—­kinsmenof mine. She was even careful to quote mattersof history concerning my ancestors. By such marksof good sense and good will I perceived that she wouldnot be out of place at a Court where politeness ofspirit and politeness of heart ever go side by side,or, to put it better, where these qualities are fusedand united.

M. le Marquis de Montespan, scion of the old houseof Pardaillan de Gondrin, had preferred what he styled“my grace and beauty” to the most wealthypartis of France. He was himself possessed ofwealth, and his fortune gave him every facility formaintaining at Court a position of advantage and distinction.

At first the honour which both Queens were graciouslypleased to confer upon me gave my husband intensesatisfaction. He affectionately thanked theDuc and duch*esse de Navailles, and expressed his mosthumble gratitude to the two Queens and to the King. But it was not long before I perceived that he hadaltered his opinion.

The love-affair between Mademoiselle de la Valliereand the King having now become public, M. de Montespancondemned this attachment in terms of such vehemencethat I perforce felt afraid of the consequences ofsuch censure. He talked openly about the matterin society, airing his views thereanent. Impetuouslyand with positive hardihood, he expressed his disapprovalin unstinted terms, criticising and condemning theprince’s conduct. Once, at the ballet,when within two feet of the Queen, it was with theutmost difficulty that he could be prevented from discussingso obviously unfitting a question, or from sententiouslymoralising upon the subject.

All at once the news of an inheritance in the countryserved to occupy his attention. He did all thathe could to make me accompany him on this journey. He pointed out to me that it behoved no young wifeto be anywhere without her husband. I, for mypart, represented to him all that in my official capacityI owed to the Queen. And as at that time I stillloved him heartily (M. de Montespan, I mean), and wassincerely attached to him, I advised him to sell offthe whole of the newly inherited estate to some worthymember of his own family, so that he might remainwith us in the vast arena wherein I desired and hopedto achieve his rapid advance.

Never was there man more obstinate or more selfwilledthan the Marquis. Despite all my friendly persuasion,he was determined to go. And when once settledat the other end of France, he launched out into allsorts of agricultural schemes and enterprises, withouteven knowing why he did so. He constructed roads,built windmills, bridged over a large torrent, completedthe pavilions of his castle, replanted coppices andvineyards, and, besides all this, hunted the chamois,bears, and boars of the Nebouzan and the Pyrenees. Four or five months after his departure I receiveda letter from him of so singular a kind that I keptit in spite of myself, and in the Memoirs it willnot prove out of place. Far better than anywords of mine, it will depict the sort of mind, thelogic, and the curious character of the man who wasmy husband.

Montespan,—­May 15, 1667.

I count more than ever, madame, upon your journeyto the Pyrenees. If you love me, as all yourletters assure me, you should promptly take a goodcoach and come. We are possessed of considerableproperty here, which of late years my family havemuch neglected. These domains require my presence,and my presence requires yours. Enough is yoursof wit or of good sense to understand that.

The Court is, no doubt, a fine country,—­finerthan ever under the present reign. The moremagnificent the Court is, the more uneasy do I become. Wealth and opulence are needed there; and to yourfamily I never figured as a Croesus. By dintof order and thrift, we shall ere long have satisfactorilysettled our affairs; and I promise you that our stayin the Provinces shall last no longer than is necessaryto achieve that desirable result. Three, four,five,—­let us say, six years. Well,that is not an eternity! By the time we comeback we shall both of us still be young. Come,then, my dearest Athenais, come, and make closer acquaintancewith these imposing Pyrenees, every ravine of whichis a landscape and every valley an Eden. Toall these beauties, yours is missing; you shall behere, like Dian, the goddess of these noble forests. All our gentlefolk await you, admiring your pictureon the sweetmeat-box. They are minded to holdmany pleasant festivals in your honour; you may countupon having a veritable Court. Here it is thatyou will meet the old Warnais nobility that followedHenri IV. and placed the sceptre in his hand. Messieurs de Grammont and de Biron are our neighbours;their grim castles dominate the whole district, sothat they seem like kings.

Our Chateau de Montespan will offer you somethingless severe; the additions made for my mother twentyyears ago are infinitely better than anything thatyou will leave behind you in Paris. We have herethe finest fruits that ever grew in any earthly paradise. Our huge, luscious peaches are composed of sugar,violets, carnations, amber, and jessamine; strawberriesand raspberries grow everywhere; and naught may viewith the excellence of the water, the vegetables,and the milk.

You are fond of scenery and of sketching from nature;there are half a dozen landscapes here for you thatleave Claude Lorrain far behind. I mean to takeyou to see a waterfall, twelve hundred and seventyfeet in height, neither more nor less. Whatare your fountains at Saint Germain and Chambord comparedwith such marvellous things as these?

Now, madame, I am really tired of coaxing and flatteringyou, as I have done in this letter and in precedingones. Do you want me, or do you not? Yourposition as Court lady, so you say, keeps you nearthe monarch; ask, then, or let me ask, for leave ofabsence. After having been for four consecutiveyears Lady of the Palace, consent to become Lady ofthe Castle, since your duties towards your spouse requireit. The young King, favourite as he is with theladies, will soon find ten others to replace you. And I, dearest Athenais, find it hard even to thinkof replacing you, in spite of your cruel absence, whichat once annoys and grieves me. I am—­no,I shall be—­always and ever yours, whenyou are always and ever mine.

Montespan.

I hastened to tell my husband in reply that his impatienceand ill-humour made me most unhappy; that as, throughsickness or leave of absence, five or six of the Courtladies were away, I could not possibly absent myselfjust then; that I believed that I sufficiently meritedhis confidence to let me count upon his attachmentand esteem, whether far or near. And I gavehim my word of honour that I would join him after theCourt moved to Fontainebleau, that is to say, in theautumn.

My answer, far from soothing or calming him, producedquite a contrary effect. I received the followingletter, which greatly alarmed and agitated me:

Your allegations are only vain pretexts, your pretextsmask your falsehoods, your falsehoods confirm allmy suspicions; you are deceiving me, madame, and itis your intention to dishonour me. My cousin,who saw through you better than I did before my wretchedmarriage,—­my cousin, whom you dislike andwho is no whit afraid of you,—­informs methat, under the pretext of going to keep Madame dela Valliere company, you never stir from her apartmentsduring the time allotted to her by the King, thatis to say, three whole hours every evening. Thereyou pose as sovereign arbiter; as oracle, utteringa thousand divers decisions; as supreme purveyor ofnews and gossip; the scourge of all who are absent;the complacent promoter of scandal; the soul and theleader of sparkling conversation.

One only of these ladies became ill, owing to an extremelyfavourable confinement, from which she recovered aweek ago. At the outset, the King fought shyof your raillery, but in a thousand discreditable waysyou set your cap at him and forced him to pay youattention. If all the letters written to me(all of them in the same strain) are not preconcerted,if your misconduct is such as I am told it is, ifyou have dishonoured and disgraced your husband, then,madame, expect all that your excessive imprudencedeserves. At this distance of two hundred andfifty leagues I shall not trouble you with complaintsand vain reproaches; I shall collect all necessaryinformation and documentary evidence at headquarters;and, cost me what it may, I shall bring action againstyou, before your parents, before a court of law, inthe face of public opinion, and before your protector,the King. I charge you instantly to deliverup to me my child. My unfortunate son comes ofa race which never yet has had cause to blush fordisgrace such as this. What would he gain, exceptbad example, by staying with a mother who has no virtueand no husband? Give him up to me, and at oncelet Dupre, my valet, have charge of him until my return. This latter will occur sooner than you think; andI shall shut you up in a convent, unless you shut meup in the Bastille.

Your unfortunate husband, Montespan.

The officious cousin to whom he alluded in this threateningletter had been so bold as to sue for my hand, althoughpossessed of no property. Ever since that timehe remained, as I knew, my enemy, though I did notknow, nor ever suspected, that such a man would findpleasure in spying upon my actions and in effectingthe irrevocable estrangement of a husband and a wife,who until then had been mutually attached to eachother.

The King, whose glance, though very sweet, is verysearching, said to me that evening, “Somethingtroubles you; what is it?” He felt my pulse,and perceived my great agitation. I showed himthe letter just transcribed, and his Majesty changedcolour.

“It is a matter requiring caution and tact,”added the prince after brief meditation. “Atany rate we can prevent his showing you any disrespect.Give up the Marquis d’Antin to him,” continuedthe King, after another pause. “He isuseless, perhaps an inconvenience, to you; and if deprivedof his child he might be driven to commit some desperateact.”

“I would rather die!” I exclaimed, burstinginto tears.

The King affectionately took hold of both my hands,and gently said:

“Very well, then, keep him yourself, and don’tgive him up.”

As God is my witness, M. de Montespan had alreadyneglected me for some time before he left for thePyrenees; and to me this sudden access of fervourseemed singularly strange. But I am not easilyhoodwinked; I understood him far better and far quickerthan he expected. The Marquis is one of thosevulgar-minded men who do not look upon a woman as afriend, a companion, a frank, free associate, but asa piece of property or of furniture, useful to hishouse, and which he has procured for that purposeonly.

I am told that in England a man is the absolute proprietorof his wife, and that if he took her to the publicmarket with a cord round her neck and exhibited herfor sale, such sale is perfectly valid in the eyesof the law. Laws such as these inspire horror. Yet they should hardly surprise one among a semibarbarousnation, which does nothing like other peoples, andwhich deems itself authorised to place the censer inthe hands of its monarch, and its monarch in the handsof the headsman.

M. de Montespan came to Paris and instituted proceedingsagainst me before the Chatelet authorities. To the King he sent a letter full of provocationsand insults. To the Pope he sent a formal complaint,accompanied by a most carefully prepared list of opinionswhich no lawyer was willing to sign. For threewhole months he tormented the Pope, in order to inducehim to annul our marriage. Of a truth, our SovereignPontiff could have done nothing better, but in Romejustice and religion always rank second to politics. The cardinals feared to offend a great prince, andso they suffered me to remain the wife of my husband. When he saw that on every side his voice was lostin the desert, and that the King, being calmer andmore prudent than he, did not deign to pick up theglove, his folly reached its utmost limit. Hewent into the deepest mourning ever seen. Hedraped his horses and carriages with black. Hegave orders for a funeral service to be held in hisparish, which the whole town and its suburbs wereinvited to attend. He declared, verbally andin writing, that he no longer possessed a wife; thatMadame de Montespan had died of an attack of coquetryand ambition; and he talked of marrying again whenthe year of mourning and of widowhood should be over.

His first outbursts of wrath were the source of muchamusem*nt to the King, who naturally was on the sideof decorum and averse to hostile opinion. Prankssuch as these seemed to him more a matter for mirththan fear, and, on hearing the story of the catafalque,he laughingly said to me, “Now that he has buriedyou, it is to be hoped that he will let you reposein peace.” But hearing each day of freshabsurdities, his Majesty grew at last impatient. Luckily, M. de Montespan, perceiving that every househad closed its doors to him, decided to close his ownaltogether and travel abroad.

Not being of a vindictive disposition, I never wouldallow M. de Louvois to shut him up in the Bastille. On the contrary I privately paid more than fiftythousand crowns to defray his debts, being glad torender him some good service in exchange for all theevil that he spoke of me.

I reflected that he had been my husband, my confidant,my friend; that his only faults were bad temper, loveof sport, and love of wine; that he belonged to oneof the very first families of France; and that, despiteall that was said, my son D’Antin certainly wasnothing to the King, and that the Marquis was hisfather.

CHAPTER IV.

Mademoiselle de la Valliere Jealous.—­TheKing Wishes All to Enjoy Themselves.—­TheFutility of Fighting against Fate.—­Whatis Dead is Dead.

Mademoiselle de la Valliere wastall, shapely, and extremely pretty, with as sweetand even a temper as one could possibly imagine, whicheminently fitted her for dreamy, contemplative love-making,such as one reads of in idyls and romances. She would willingly have spent her life in. contemplatingthe King,—­in loving and adoring him withoutever opening her mouth; and to her, the sweet silenceof a tete-a-tete seemed preferable to any conversationenlivened by wit.

The King’s character was totally different. His imagination was vivid, and mere love-making,however pleasant, bored him at last if the charm ofready speech and ready wit were wanting.

I do not profess to be a prodigy, but those who knowme do me the justice to admit that where I am it isvery difficult for boredom to find ever so small afooting.

Mademoiselle de la Valliere, after having begged me,and begged me often, to come and help her to entertainthe King, grew suddenly suspicious and uneasy. She is candour itself, and one day, bursting intotears, she said to me, in that voice peculiar to heralone, “For Heaven’s sake, my good friend,do not steal away the King’s heart from me!”When mademoiselle said this to me, I vow and declarein all honesty that her fears were unfounded, andthat (for my part at least) I had only just a naturaldesire to gain the good-will of a great prince.My friendship for La Valliere was so sincere, so thorough,that I often used to superintend little details ofher toilet and give her various little hints as toattentive conduct of the sort which cements and revivesattachments. I even furnished her with newsand gossip, composing for her a little repertoire,of which, when needful, she made use.

But her star had set, and she had to show the worldthe touching spectacle of love as true, as tender,and as disinterested as any that has ever been inthis world, followed by a repentance and an expiationfar superior to the sin, if sin it was.

Moreover, Mademoiselle de la Valliere never brokewith me. She shed tears in abundance, and woundedmy heart a thousand times by the sight of her griefand her distress. For her sake I was often fainto bid farewell to her fickle lover, proud monarchthough he was. But by breaking with him I shouldnot have reestablished La Valliere. The prince’sviolent passion had changed to mere friendship, blendedwith esteem. To try and resuscitate attachmentsof this sort is as if one should try to open the graveand give life to the dead. God alone can workmiracles such as these.

CHAPTER V.

The Marquis de Bragelonne, Officer of the Guards.—­HisBaleful Love.—­His Journey.—­HisDeath.

The Marquis de Bragelonne was born for Mademoisellede la Valliere. It was this young officer, endowedwith all perfections imaginable, whom Heaven had designedfor her, to complete her happiness. Despite hissincere, incomparable attachment for her, she disdainedhim, preferring a king, who soon afterwards weariedof her.

The Marquis de Bragelonne conceived a passion forthe little La Valliere as soon as he saw her at theTuileries with Madame Henrietta of England, whosemaid of honour at first she was. Having madeproof and declaration of his tender love, Bragelonnewas so bold as to ask her hand of the princess. Madame caused her relatives to be apprised of this,and the Marquise de Saint-Remy, her stepmother, afterall necessary inquiries had been made, replied thatthe fortune of this young man was as yet too slenderto permit him to think of having an establishment.

Grieved at this answer, but nothing daunted, Bragelonneconferred privately with his lady-love, and told herof his hazardous project. This project instantlyto realise all property coming to him from his father,and furnished with this capital, to go out, and seekhis fortune in India [West Indies. D.W.]

“You will wait for me, dearest one, will younot?” quoth he. “Heaven, that iswitness how ardently I long to make you happy, willprotect me on my journey and guard my ship. Promise me to keep off all suitors, the number ofwhom will increase with your beauty. This promise,for which I desire no other guarantee but your candour,shall sustain me in exile, and make me count as noughtmy privations and my hardships.”

Mademoiselle de la Beaume-le-Blanc allowed the Marquisto hope all that he wished from her beautiful soul,and he departed, never imagining that one could forgetor set at nought so tender a love which had promptedso hazardous an enterprise.

His journey proved thoroughly successful. Hebrought back with him treasures from the New World;but of all his treasures the most precious had disappeared. Restored once more to family and friends, he hastenedto the capital. Madame d’Orleans no longerresided at the Tuileries, which was being enlargedby the King.

Bragelonne, in his impatience, asks everywhere forLa Valliere. They tell him that she has a charminghouse between Saint Germain, Lucienne, and Versailles. He goes thither, laden with coral and pearls fromthe Indies. He asks to have sight of his love. A tall Swiss repulses him, saying that, in orderto speak with Madame la duch*esse, it was absolutelynecessary to make an appointment.

At the same moment one of his friends rides past thegateway. They greet each other, and in replyto his questioning, this friend informs him that Mademoisellede la Valliere is a duch*ess, that she is a mother,that she is lapped in grandeur and luxury, and thatshe has as lover a king.

At this news, Bragelonne finds nothing further forhim to do in this world. He grasps his friend’shand, retires to a neighbouring wood, and there, drawinghis sword, plunges it into his heart,—­asad requital for love so noble!

CHAPTER VI.

M. Fouquet.—­His Mistake.—­A Woman’sIndiscretion May Cause the Loss of a Great Minister.—­TheCastle of Vaux.—­Fairy-land.—­AFearful Awakening.—­Clemency of the King.

On going out into society, I heard everybody talkingeverywhere about M. Fouquet. They praised hisgood-nature, his affability, his talents, his magnificence,his wit. His post as Surintendant-General, enviedby a thousand, provoked indeed a certain amount ofspite; yet all such vain efforts on the part of mediocrityto slander him troubled him but little. My lordthe Cardinal (Mazarin. D.W.) was his support,and so long as the main column stood firm, M. Fouquet,lavish of gifts to his protector, had really nothingto fear.

This minister also largely profited by the speciesof fame to be derived from men of letters. Heknew their venality and their needs. His sumptuous,well-appointed table was placed in grandiose fashionat their disposal. Moreover, he made sure oftheir attachment and esteem by fees and enormous pensions. The worthy La Fontaine nibbled like others at thebait, and at any rate paid his share of the reckoningby the most profuse gratitude. M. Fouquet hadone great defect: he took it into his head thatevery woman is devoid of will-power and of resistanceif only one dazzle her eyes with gold. Anotherprejudice of his was to believe, as an article offaith, that, if possessed of gold and jewels, the mostordinary of men can inspire affection.

Making this twofold error his starting-point as aprinciple that was incontestable, he was wont to lookupon every beautiful woman who happened to appearon the horizon as his property acquired in advance.

At Madame’s, he saw Mademoiselle de la Valliere,and instantly sent her his vows of homage and hisproposals.

To his extreme astonishment, this young beauty declinedto understand such language. Couched in otherterms, he renewed his suit, yet apparently was nowhit less obscure than on the first occasion. Such a scandal as this well-nigh put him to the blush,and he was obliged to admit that this modest maideneither affected to be, or really was, utterly extraordinary.

Perhaps Mademoiselle de la Valliere ought to havehad the generosity not to divulge the proposals madeto her; but she spoke about them, so everybody said,and the King took a dislike to his minister.

Whatever the cause or the real motives for Fouquet’sdisgrace, it was never considered unjust, and thisleads me to tell the tale of his mad folly at Vaux.

The two palaces built by Cardinal Mazarin and thecastles built by Cardinal Richelieu served as fineexamples for M. Fouquet. He knew that handsomeedifices embellished the country, and that Maecenashas always been held in high renown, because Maecenasbuilt a good deal in his day.

He had just built, at great expense, in the neighbourhoodof Melun, a castle of such superb and elegant proportionsthat the fame of it had even reached foreign parts. All that Fouquet lived for was show and pomp. To have a fine edifice and not show it off was asif one only possessed a kennel.

He spoke of the Castle of Vaux in the Queen’slarge drawing-room, and begged their Majesties tohonour by their presence a grand fete that he waspreparing for them.

To invite the royal family was but a trifling matter,—­herequired spectators proportionate to the scale ofdecorations and on a par with the whole spectacle;so he took upon himself to invite the entire Courtto Vaux.

On reaching Vaux-le-Vicomte, how great and generalwas our amazement! It was not the well-appointedresidence of a minister, it was not a human habitationthat presented itself to our view,—­it wasa veritable fairy palace. All in this brilliantdwelling was stamped with the mark of opulence andof exquisite taste in art. Marbles, balustrades,vast staircases, columns, statues, groups, bas-reliefs,vases, and pictures were scattered here and therein rich profusion, besides cascades and fountainsinnumerable. The large salon, octagonal in shape,had a high, vaulted ceiling, and its flooring of mosaiclooked like a rich carpet embellished with birds,butterflies, arabesques, fruits, and flowers.

On either side of the main edifice, and somewhat inthe rear, the architect had placed smaller buildings,yet all of them ornamented in the same sumptuous fashion;and these served to throw the chateau itself intorelief. In these adjoining pavilions there werebaths, a theatre, a ‘paume’ ground, swings,a chapel, billiard-rooms, and other salons.

One noticed magnificent gilt roulette tables and sedan-chairsof the very best make. There were elegant stallsat which trinkets were distributed to the guests,—­note-books,pocket-mirrors, gloves, knives, scissors, purses,fans, sweetmeats, scents, pastilles, and perfumes ofall kinds.

It was as if some evil fairy had prompted the imprudentminister to act in this way, who, eager and impatientfor his own ruin, had summoned his King to witnesshis appalling system of plunder in its entirety, andhad invited chastisem*nt.

When the King went out on to the balcony of his apartmentto make a general survey of the gardens and the perspective,he found everything well arranged and most alluring;but a certain vista seemed to him spoiled by whitish-lookingclearings that gave too barren an aspect to the generalcoup d’oeil.

His host readily shared this opinion. He atonce gave the requisite instructions, which that verynight were executed by torchlight with the utmostsecrecy by all the workmen of the locality whose servicesat such an hour it was possible to secure.

When next day the monarch stepped out on to his balcony,he saw a beautiful green wood in place of the clearingswith which on the previous evening he had found fault.

Service more prompt or tasteful than this it was surelyimpossible to have; but kings only desire to be obeyedwhen they command.

Fouquet, with airy presumption, expected thanks andpraise. This, however, was what he had to hear:“I am shocked at such expense!”

Soon afterwards the Court moved to Nantes; the ministersfollowed; M. Fouquet was arrested.

His trial at the Paris Arsenal lasted several months. Proofs of his defalcations were numberless. His family and proteges made frantic yet futile effortsto save so great a culprit. The Commission sentencedhim to death, and ordered the confiscation of allhis property.

The King, content to have made this memorable andsalutary example, commuted the death penalty, andM. Fouquet learned with gratitude that he would haveto end his days in prison.

Nor did the King insist upon the confiscation of hisproperty, which went to the culprit’s widowand children, all that was retained being the enormoussums which he had embezzled.

CHAPTER VII.

Close of the Queen-mother’s Illness.—­TheArchbishop of Auch.—­The
Patient’s Resignation.—­The Sacrament.—­CourtCeremony for its
Reception.—­Sage Distinction of Mademoisellede Montpensier.—­Her
Prudence at the Funeral.

As the Queen-mother’s malady grew worse, theCourt left Saint Germain to be nearer the expertsand the Val-de-Grace, where the princess frequentlypractised her devotions with members of the religioussisterhood that she had founded.

Suddenly the cancer dried up, and the head physiciandeclared that the Queen was lost.

The Archbishop of Auch said to the King, “Sire,there is not an instant to be lost; the Queen maydie at any moment; she should be informed of her condition,so that she may prepare herself to receive the Sacrament.”

The King was troubled, for he dearly loved his mother. “Monsieur,” he replied, with emotion,“it is impossible for me to sanction your request.My mother is resting calmly, and perhaps thinks thatshe is out of danger. We might give her herdeath-blow.”

The prelate, a man of firm, religious character, insisted,albeit reverently, while the prince continued to object. Then the Archbishop retorted, “It is not withnature or the world that we have here to deal.We have to save a soul. I have done my duty,and filial tenderness will at any rate bear the blame.”

The King thereupon acceded to the churchman’swishes, who lost no time in acquainting the patientwith her doom.

Anne of Austria was grievously shocked at so terriblean announcement, but she soon recovered her resignationand her courage; and M. d’ Auch made noble useof his eloquence when exhorting her to prepare forthe change that she dreaded.

A portable altar was put up in the room, and the Archbishop,assisted by other clerics, went to fetch the HolySacrament from the church of Saint Germain de l’Auxerroisin the Louvre parish.

The princes and princesses hereupon began to arguein the little closet as to the proper ceremony tobe observed on such occasions. Madame de Motteville,lady-in-waiting to the Queen, being asked to give anopinion, replied that, for the late King, the nobleshad gone out to meet the Holy Sacrament as far asthe outer gate of the palace, and that it would bewise to do this on the present occasion.

Mademoiselle de Montpensier interrupted the lady-in-waitingand those who shared her opinion. “I cannotbring myself to establish such a precedent,”she said, in her usual haughty tone. “Itis I who have to walk first, and I shall only go half-wayacross the courtyard of the Louvre. It’squite far enough for the Holy Wafer-box; what’sthe use of walking any further for the Holy Sacrament?”

The princes and princesses were of her way of thinking,and the procession advanced only to the limits aforesaid.

When the time came for taking the Sacred Heart toVal-de-Grace with the funeral procession, Mademoiselle,in a long mourning cloak, said to the Archbishop beforeeverybody, “Pray, monsieur, put the Sacred Heartin the best place, and sit you close beside it. I yield my rank up to you on the present occasion.” And, as the prelate protested, she added, “Ishall be very willing to ride in front on account ofthe malady from which she died.” And,without altering her resolution, she actually tookher seat in front.

CHAPTER VIII.

Cardinal Mazarin.—­Regency of Anne of Austria.—­HerPerseverance in
Retaining Her Minister.—­Mazarin Gives HisNieces in Marriage.—­M. de la
Meilleraye.—­The Cardinal’s Festivities.—­Madamede Montespan’s Luck at a
Lottery.

Before taking holy orders, Cardinal Mazarin had servedas an officer in the Spanish army, where he had evenwon distinction.

Coming to France in the train of a Roman cardinal,he took service with Richelieu, who, remarking inhim all the qualities of a supple, insinuating, artificialnature,—­that is to say, the nature of agood politician,—­appointed him his privatesecretary, and entrusted him with all his secrets,as if he had singled him out as his successor.

Upon the death of Richelieu, Mazarin did not scrupleto avow that the great Armand’s sceptre hadbeen a tyrant’s sceptre and of bronze. By such an admission he crept into the good gracesof Louis XIII., who, himself almost moribund, hadshown how pleased he was to see his chief ministergo before him to the grave.

Louis XIII. being dead, his widow, Anne of Austria,in open Parliament cancelled the monarch’s testamentarydepositions and constituted herself Regent with absoluteauthority. Mazarin was her Richelieu.

In France, where men affect to be so gallant and socourteous, how is it that when women rule their reignis always stormy and troublous? Anne of Austria—­comely,amiable, and gracious as she was—­met withthe same brutal discourtesy which her sister-in-law,Marie de Medici, had been obliged to bear. Butgifted with greater force of intellect than that queen,she never yielded aught of her just rights; and itwas her strong will which more than once astoundedher enemies and saved the crown for the young King.

They lampooned her, hissed her, and burlesqued herpublicly at the theatres, cruelly defaming her intentionsand her private life. Strong in the knowledgeof her own rectitude, she faced the tempest withoutflinching; yet inwardly her soul was torn to pieces. The barricading of Paris, the insolence of M. lePrince, the bravado and treachery of Cardinal de Retz,burnt up the very blood in her veins, and brought onher fatal malady, which took the form of a hideouscancer.

Our nobility (who are only too glad to go and reignin Naples, Portugal, or Poland) openly declared thatno foreigner ought to hold the post of minister inParis. Despite his Roman purple, Mazarin wascondemned to be hanged.

The motive for this was some trifling tax which hehad ordered to be collected before this had been ratifiedby the magistrates and registered in the usual way.

But the Queen knew how to win over the nobles. Her cardinal was recalled, and the apathy of theParisians put an end to these dissensions, from which,one must admit, the people and the bourgeoisie gotall the ills and the nobility all the profits.

As comptroller of the list of benefices, M. le Cardinalallotted the wealthiest abbeys of the realm to himself.

Having made himself an absolute master of finance,like M. Fouquet, he amassed great wealth. Hebuilt a magnificent palace in Rome, and an equallybrilliant one in Paris, conferring upon himself thewealthy governorships of various towns or provinces. He had a guard of honour attached to his person,and a captain of the guard in attendance, just asRichelieu had.

He married one of his nieces to the Prince of Mantua,another to the Prince de Conti, a third to the Comtede Soissons, a fourth to the Constable Colonna (anItalian prince), a fifth to the Duc de Mercoeur (ablood relation of Henri IV.), and a sixth to the Ducde Bouillon. As to Hortense, the youngest, loveliestof them all,—­Hortense, the beauteous-eyed,his charming favourite,—­he appointed herhis sole heiress, and having given her jewelry andinnumerable other presents, he married her to theagreeable Duc de la Meilleraye, son of the marshalof that name.

Society was much astonished when it came out thatM. le Cardinal had disinherited his own nephew,

[De Mancini, Duc de Nevers, a relative of the lastDuc de Nivernois. He married, soon after, Madamede Montespan’s niece.—­Editor’sNote]

a man of merit, handing over his name, his fortune,and his arms to a stranger. This was an error;in taking the name and arms of Mazarin, young De laMeilleraye was giving up those which he ought to havegiven up, and assuming those which it behove him toassume.

Nor did he retain the great possessions of the LaMeilleraye family. Herein, certainly, he didnot consult his devotion; since the secret and fatherlyavowal of M. le Cardinal he had no right whatever tothe estates of this family.

Beneath the waving folds of his large scarlet robe,the Cardinal showed such ease and certainty of address,that he never put one in mind of a cardinal and abishop. To such manners, however, one was accustomed;in a leading statesman they were not unpleasant.

He often gave magnificent balls, at which he displayedall the accomplishments of his nieces and the sumptuoussplendour of his furniture. At such entertainments,always followed by a grand banquet, he was wont toshow a liberality worthy of crowned heads. Oneday, after the feast, he announced that a lotterywould be held in his palace.

Accordingly, all the guests repaired to his superbgallery, which had just been brilliantly decoratedwith paintings by Romanelli, and here, spread outupon countless tables, we saw pieces of rare porcelain,scent-bottles of foreign make, watches of every sizeand shape, chains of pearls or of coral, diamond bucklesand rings, gold boxes adorned by portraits set inpearls or in emeralds, fans of matchless elegance,—­ina word, all the rarest and most costly things thatluxury and fashion could invent.

The Queens distributed the tickets with every appearanceof honesty and good faith. But I had reasonto remark, by what happened to myself, that the ticketshad been registered beforehand. The young Queen,who felt her garter slipping off, came to me in orderto tighten it. She handed me her ticket to holdfor a moment, and when she had fastened her garter,I gave her back my ticket instead of her own. When the Cardinal from his dais read out the numbersin succession, my number won a portrait of the Kingset in brilliants, much to the surprise of the Queen-motherand his Eminence; they could not get over it.

To me this lottery of the Rue Neuve-des-Petit*-Changes

[The gallery to which the Marquise alludes is to-daycalled the Manuscript Gallery. It belongs tothe Royal Library in the Rue de Richelieu. Mazarin’shouse is now the Treasury.]

I brought good luck, and we often talked about itafterwards with the King, regarding it as a sort ofprediction or horoscope.

CHAPTER IX.

Marriage of Monsieur, the King’s Brother.—­HisHope of Mounting a Throne.—­His High-heeledShoes.—­His Dead Child.—­SaintDenis.

Monsieur would seem to have been created in orderto set off his brother, the King, and to give himthe advantage of such relief. He is small instature and in character, being ceaselessly busiedabout trifles, details, nothings. To his toiletand his mirror, he devotes far more time than a prettywoman; he covers himself with scents, with laces, withdiamonds.

He is passionately fond of fetes, large assemblies,and spectacular displays. It was in order tofigure as the hero of some such entertainment thathe suddenly resolved to get married.

Mademoiselle—­the Grande Mademoiselle—­Mademoiselled’Eu, Mademoiselle de Dombes, Mademoiselle deMontpensier, Mademoiselle de Saint-Fargeau, Mademoisellede la Roche-sur-Yon, Mademoiselle d’Orleans—­hadcome into the world twelve or thirteen years beforehe had, and they could not abide each other. Despite such trifling differences, however, he proposedmarriage to her. The princess, than whom no onemore determined exists, answered, “You oughtto have some respect for me; I refused two crownedhusbands the very day you were born.”

So the Prince begged the Queen of England to givehim her charming daughter Henrietta, who, having cometo France during her unfortunate father’s captivity,had been educated in Paris.

The Princess possessed an admirable admixture of graceand beauty, wit being allied to great affability andgood-nature; to all these natural gifts she addeda capacity and intelligence such as one might desiresovereigns to possess. Her coquetry was mereamiability; of that I am convinced. Being naturallyvain, the Prince, her husband, made great use at firstof his consort’s royal coat-of-arms. Itwas displayed on his equipages and stamped all overhis furniture.

“Do you know, madame,” quoth he gallantly,one day, “what made me absolutely desire tomarry you? It was because you are a daughterand a sister of the Kings of England. In yourcountry women succeed to the throne, and if Charlesthe Second and my cousin York were to die withoutchildren (which is very likely), you would be Queenand I should be King.”

“Oh, Sire, how wrong of you to imagine sucha thing!” replied his wife; “it bringstears to my eyes. I love my brothers more thanI do myself. I trust that they may have issue,as they desire, and that I may not have to go backand live with those cruel English who slew my father-in-law.”

The Prince sought to persuade her that a sceptre anda crown are always nice things to have. “Yes,”replied Henrietta slyly, “but one must knowhow to wear them.”

Soon after this, he again talked of his expectations,saying every minute, “If ever I am King, I shalldo so; if ever I am King, I shall order this; if everI am King,” etc., etc.

“Let us hope, my good friend,” repliedthe Princess, “that you won’t be Kingin England, where your gewgaws would make people callout after you; nor yet in France, where they wouldthink you too little, after the King.”

At this last snub, Monsieur was much mortified. The very next day he summoned his old bootmaker,Lambertin, and ordered him to put extra heels twoinches high to his shoes. Madame having toldthis piece of childish folly to the King, he was greatlyamused, and with a view to perplex his brother, hehad his own shoe-heels heightened, so that, besidehis Majesty, Monsieur still looked quite a littleman.

The Princess gave premature birth to a child thatwas scarcely recognisable; it had been dead in itsmother’s womb for at least ten days, so thedoctors averred. Monsieur le Duc d’Orleans,however, insisted upon having this species of monstrositybaptised.

My sister, De Thianges, who is raillery personified,seeing how embarrassed was the cure of Saint Cloudby the Prince’s repeated requests for baptism,gravely said to the cleric in an irresistibly comicfashion, “Do you know, sir, that your refusalis contrary to all good sense and good breeding, andthat to infants of such quality baptism is never denied?”

When this species of miscarriage had to be buried,as there was urgent need to get rid of it, Monsieuruttered loud cries, and said that he had written tohis brother so that there might be a grand funeralservice at Saint Denis.

Of so absurd a proposal as this no notice was taken,which served to amaze Monsieur for one whole month.

CHAPTER X.

M. Colbert.—­His Origin.—­He Unveilsand Displays Mazarin’s Wealth.—­TheMonarch’s Liberality.—­Resentment ofthe Cardinal’s Heirs.

A few moments before he died, Cardinal Mazarin, throughstrategy, not through repentance, besought the Kingto accept a deed of gift whereby he was appointedhis universal legatee. Touched by so noble aresolve, the King gave back the deed to his Eminence,who shed tears of emotion.

“Sire, I owe all to you,” said the dyingman to the young prince, “but I believe thatI shall pay off my debt by giving Colbert, my secretary,to your Majesty. Faithful as he has been tome, so will he be to you; and while he keeps watch,you may sleep. He comes from the noble familyof Coodber, of Scottish origin, and his sentimentsare worthy of his ancestors.”

A few moments later the death-agony began, and M.Colbert begged the King to listen to him in an embrasure. There, taking a pencil, he made out a list of allthe millions which the Cardinal had hidden away invarious places. The monarch bewailed his minister,his tutor, his friend, but so astounding a revelationdried his tears. He affectionately thanked M.Colbert, and from that day forward gave him his entireconsideration and esteem.

M. Colbert was diligent enough to seize upon the millionshidden at Vincennes, the millions secreted in theold Louvre, at Courbevoie and the other country seats. But the millions in gold, hidden in the bastions ofLa Fere, fell into the hands of heirs, who, a few momentsafter the commencement of the Cardinal’s death-agony,sent off a valet post-haste.

The Cardinal’s family pretended to know nothingof this affair; but they could never bear M. Colbertnor any of his kinsfolk. The King, being ofa generous nature, distributed all this wealth in thebest and most liberal manner possible. M. Colberttold him to what use Mazarin meant to put all theseriches; he hoped to have prevailed upon the Conclaveto elect him Pope, with the concurrence of Spain,France, and the Holy Ghost.

CHAPTER XI.

The Young Queen.—­Her Portrait.—­HerWhims.—­Her Love for the King.—­HerChagrin.

Maria Theresa, the King’s new consort,was the daughter of the King of Spain and Elizabethof France, daughter of Henri IV. At the timeof her marriage she had lost her mother, and it wasKing Philip, Anne of Austria’s brother, whohimself presented her to us at Saint Jean de Luz,where he signed the peace-contract. The Spanishmonarch admired his nephew, the King, whose stalwartfigure, comely face, and polished manners, were, indeed,well calculated to excite surprise.

Anne of Austria had said to him, “My brother,my one fear during your journey was lest your ailmentsand the hardships of travel should hinder you fromgetting back here again.”

“Was such your thought, sister?” repliedthe good man. “I would willingly havecome on foot, so as to behold with my own eyes thesuperb cavalier that you and I are going to give tomy daughter.”

After the oath of peace had been sworn upon the Gospels,there was a general presentation before the two Kings. Cantocarrero, the Castilian secretary of state, presentedthe Spanish notabilities, while Cardinal Mazarin,in his pontifical robes, presented the French. As he announced M. de Turenne, the old King lookedat him repeatedly. “There’s one,”quoth he, “who has given me many a sleeplessnight.”

M. de Turenne bowed respectfully, and both courtscould perceive in his simple bearing his unaffectedmodesty.

On leaving Spain and the King, young princess wasmoved to tears. Next day she thought nothingof it at all. She was wholly engrossed by thepossession of such a King, nor was she at any painsto hide her glee from us.

Of all her Court ladies I was the most youthful and,perhaps, the most conspicuous. At the outsetthe Queen showed a wish to take me into her confidencebut it was the lady-in-waiting who would never consentto this.

When, at that lottery of the Cardinal’s, I wonthe King’s portrait, the Queen-mother calledme into her closet and desired to know how such athing could possibly have happened. I repliedthat, during the garter-incident, the two ticketshad got mixed. “Ah, in that case,”said the princess, “the occurrence was quitea natural one. So keep this portrait, sinceit has fallen into your hands; but, for God’ssake, don’t try and make yourself pleasant tomy son; for you’re only too fascinating as itis. Look at that little La Valliere, what a messshe has got into, and what chagrin she has causedmy poor Maria Theresa!”

I replied to her Majesty that I would rather let myselfbe buried alive than ever imitate La Valliere, andI said so then because that was really what I thought.

The Queen-mother softened, and gave me her hand tokiss, now addressing me as “madame,” andanon as “my daughter.” A few daysafterwards she wished to walk in the gallery withme, and said to me, “If God suffers me to live,I will make you lady-in-waiting; be sure of that.”

Anne of Austria was a tall, fine, dark woman, withbrown eyes, like those of the King. The Infanta,her niece, is a very pretty blonde, blue-eyed, butshort in stature.

To her slightest words the Queen-mother gives senseand wit; her daughter-in-law’s speeches andactions are of the simplest, most commonplace kind. Were it not for the King, she would pass her lifein a dressing-gown, night-cap, and slippers. At Court ceremonies and on gala-days, she never appearsto be in a good humour; everything seems to weighher down, notably her diamonds.

However, she has no remarkable defect, and one maysay that she is devoid of goodness, just as she isdevoid of badness. When coming among us, shecontrived to bring with her Molina, the daughter ofher nurse, a sort of comedy confidante, who soon gaveherself Court airs, and who managed to form a regularlittle Court of her own. Without her sanctionnothing can be obtained of the Queen. My ladyMolina is the great, the small, and the unique counsellorof the princess, and the King, like the others, remainssubmissive to her decisions and her inspection.

French cookery, by common consent, is held to be well-nighperfect in its excellence; yet the Infanta could neverget used to our dishes. The Senora Molina, wellfurnished with silver kitchen utensils, has a sortof private kitchen or scullery reserved for her ownuse, and there it is that the manufacture takes placeof clove-scented chocolate, brown soups and gravies,stews redolent with garlic, capsic*ms, and nutmeg,and all that nauseous pastry in which the young Infantarevels.

Ever since La Valliere’s lasting triumph, theQueen seems to have got it into her head that sheis despised; and at table I have often heard her say,“They will help themselves to everything, andwon’t leave me anything.”

I am not unjust, and I admit that a husband’spublic attachments are not exactly calculated to fillhis legitimate consort with joy. But, fortunatelyfor the Infanta, the King abounds in rectitude andgood-nature. This very good-nature it is whichprompts him to use all the consideration of whicha noble nature is capable, and the more his amoursgive the Queen just cause for anxiety, the more doeshe redouble his kindness and consideration towardsher. Of this she is sensible. Thus sheacquiesces, and, as much through tenderness as socialtact, she never reproaches or upbraids him with anything. Nor does the King scruple to admit that, to secureso good-natured a partner, it is well worth the troubleof going to fetch her from the other end of the world.

CHAPTER XII.

Madame de la Valliere Becomes duch*ess.—­HerFamily is Resigned.—­Her Children Recognisedby the King.—­Madame Colbert Their Governess.—­TheKing’s Passion Grows More Serious.—­Loveand Friendship.

Out of affection and respect for the Queen-mother,the King had until then sought to conceal the ardourof his attachment for Mademoiselle de la Valliere. It was after the six months of mourning that he shookoff all restraint, showing that, like any privateperson, he felt himself master of his actions andhis inclinations.

He gave the Vaujours estate to his mistress, afterformally constituting it a duchy, and, owing to thetwo children of his duchy, Mademoiselle de la Valliereassumed the title of duch*ess. What a fuss shemade at this time! All that was styled disinterestedness,modesty. Not a bit of it. It was pusillanimityand a sense of servile fear. La Valliere wouldhave liked to enjoy her handsome lover in the shadeand security of mystery, without exposing herselfto the satire of courtiers and of the public, and,above all, to the reproaches of her family and relatives,who nearly all were very devout.

On this head, however, she soon saw that such fearswere exaggerated. The Marquise de Saint-Remywas but slightly scandalised at what was going on.She and the Marquis de Saint-Remy, her second husband,strictly proper though they were, came to greet theirdaughter when proclaimed duch*ess. And when, afew days afterwards, the King declared the rank ofthe two children to the whole of assembled Parliament,the two families of Saint-Remy and La Valliere offeredcongratulations to the duch*ess, and received thoseof all Paris.

M. Colbert, who owed everything to the King, entrustedMadame Colbert with the education of the new princeand princess; they were brought up under the eyesof this statesman, who for everything found time andobligingness. The girl, lovely as love itself,took the name of Mademoiselle de Blois, while to herlittle brother was given the title of Comte de Vermandois.

It was just about this time that I noticed the beginningof the monarch’s serious attachment for me. Till then it had been only playful badinage, good-humouredteasing, a sort of society play, in which the Kingwas rehearsing his part as a lover. I was atlength bound to admit that chaff of this sort mightend in something serious, and his Majesty begged meto let him have La Valliere for some time longer.

I have already said that, while becoming her rival,I still remained her friend. Of this she hadcountless proofs, and when, at long intervals, I sawher again in her dismal retreat, her good-nature, unchangingas this was, caused her to receive and welcome meas one welcomes those one loves.

CHAPTER XIII.

First Vocation of Mademoiselle de la Valliere.—­TheKing Surprises His
Mistress.—­She is Forced to Retire to aConvent.—­The King Hastens to
Take Her Back.—­She Was Not Made for CourtLife.—­Her Farewell to the
King.—­Sacrifice.—­The Abbe deBossuet.

What I am now about to relate, I have from her ownlips, nor am I the only one to whom she made suchrecitals and avowals.

Her father died when she was quite young, and, whendying, foresaw that his widow, being without fortuneor constancy, would ere long marry again. Tolittle Louise he was devotedly attached. Ardentlyembracing her, he addressed her thus:

“In losing me, my poor little Louise, you loseall. What little there is of my inheritanceought, undoubtedly, to belong to you; but I know yourmother; she will dispose of it. If my relativesdo not show the interest in you which your fatherlessstate should inspire, renounce this world soon, where,separated from your father, there exists for you butdanger and misfortune. Two of my ancestors lefttheir property to the nuns of Saint Bernard at Gomer-Fontaines,as they are perfectly well aware. Go to themin all confidence; they will receive you without adowry even; it is their duty to do so. If, disregardingmy last counsel, you go astray in the world, fromthe eternal abodes on high I will watch over you; Iwill appear to you, if God empower me to do so; and,at any rate, from time to time I will knock at thedoor of your heart to rouse you from your balefulslumber and draw your attention to the sweet pathsof light that lead to God.”

This speech of a dying father was graven upon theheart of a young girl both timid and sensitive. She never forgot it; and it needed the fierce, inexplicablepassion which took possession of her soul to captivateher and carry her away so far.

Before becoming attached to the King, she opened outher heart to me with natural candour; and wheneverin the country she observed the turrets or the spireof a monastery, she sighed, and I saw her beautifulblue eyes fill with tears.

She was maid of honour to the Princess Henrietta ofEngland, and I filled a like office. Our twocompanions, being the most quick-witted, durst nottalk about their love-affairs before Louise, so convincedwere we of her modesty, and almost of her piety.

In spite of that, as she was gentle, intelligent,and well-bred, the Princess plainly preferred herto the other three. In temperament they suitedeach other to perfection.

The King frequently came to the Palais Royal, wherethe bright, pleasant conversation of his sister-in-lawmade amends for the inevitable boredom which one sufferedwhen with the Queen.

Being brought in such close contact with the King,who in private life is irresistibly attractive, Mademoisellede la Valliere conceived a violent passion for him;yet, owing to modesty or natural timidity, it was plainthat she carefully sought to hide her secret. One fine night she and two young persons of her ownage were seated under a large oak-tree in the groundsof Saint Germain. The Marquis de Wringhen, seeingthem in the moonlight, said to the King, who was walkingwith him, “Let us turn aside, Sire, in thisdirection; yonder there are three solitary nymphs,who seem waiting for fairies or lovers.” Then they noiselessly approached the tree that Ihave mentioned, and lost not a word of all the talkin which the fair ladies were engaged.

They were discussing the last ball at the chateau. One extolled the charms of the Marquis d’Alincour,son of Villeroi; the second mentioned another youngnobleman; while the third frankly expressed herselfin these terms:

“The Marquis d’Alincour and the Princede Marcillac are most charming, no doubt, but, inall conscience, who could be interested in their meritswhen once the King appeared in their midst?

“Oh, oh!” cried the two others, laughing,“it’s strange to hear you talk like that;so, one has to be a king in order to merit your attention?”

“His rank as king,” replied Mademoisellede la Valliere, “is not the astonishing partabout him; I should have recognised it even in thesimple dress of a herdsman.”

The three chatterers then rose and went back to thechateau. Next day, the King, wholly occupiedwith what he had overheard on the previous evening,sat musing on a sofa at his sister-in-law’s,when all at once the voice of Mademoiselle de la Beaume-le-Blancsmote his ear and brought trouble to his heart. He saw her, noticed her melancholy look, thoughther lovelier than the loveliest, and at once fell passionatelyin love.

They soon got to understand one another, yet for along while merely communicated by means of notes atfetes, or during the performance of allegorical balletsand operettas, the airs in which sufficiently expressedthe nature of such missives.

In order to put the Queen-mother off the scent andscreen La Valliere, the King pretended to be in lovewith Mademoiselle de la Mothe-Houdancour, one of theQueen’s maids of honour. He used to talkacross to her out of one of the top-story windows,and even wished her to accept a present of diamonds. But Madame de Navailles, who took charge of the maidsof honour, had gratings put over the top-story windows,and La Mothe-Houdancour was so chagrined by the Queen’sicy manner towards her that she withdrew to a convent. As to the duch*esse de Navailles and her husband,they got rid of their charges and retired to theirestates, where great wealth and freedom were theirrecompense after such pompous Court slavery.

The Queen-mother was still living; unlike her niece,she was not blindfold. The adventure of Mademoisellede la Mothe-Houdancour seemed to her just what itactually was,—­a subterfuge; as she surmised,it could only be La Valliere. Having discoveredthe name of her confessor, the Queen herself wentin disguise to the Theatin Church, flung herself intothe confessional where this man officiated, and promisedhim the sum of thirty thousand francs for their newchurch if he would help her to save the King.

The Theatin promised to do what the Queen thus earnestlydesired, and when his fair penitent came to confess,he ordered her at once to break off her connectionwith the Court as with the world, and to shut herselfup in a convent.

Mademoiselle de la Valliere shed tears, and soughtto make certain remarks, but the confessor, a manof inflexible character, threatened her with eternaldamnation, and he was obeyed.

Beside herself with grief, La Valliere left by anotherdoor, so as to avoid her servants and her coach. She recollected seeing a little convent of hospitalieresat Saint Cloud; she went thither on foot, and wascordially welcomed by these dames.

Next day it was noised abroad in the chateau thatshe had been carried off by order of the Queen-mother. During vespers the King seemed greatly agitated,and no sooner had the preacher ascended the pulpitthan he rose and disappeared.

The confusion of the two Queens was manifest; no onepaid any heed to the preacher; he scarcely knew wherehe was.

Meanwhile the conquering King had started upon hisquest. Followed by a page and a carriage andpair, he first went to Chaillot, and then to SaintCloud, where he rang at the entrance of the modestabode which harboured his friend. The nun atthe turnstile answered him harshly, and denied himan audience. It is true, he only told her hewas a cousin or a relative.

Seeing that this nun was devoid of sense and of humanity,he bethought himself of endeavouring to persuade thegardener, who lived close to the monastery. He slipped several gold pieces into his hand, and mostpolitely requested him to go and tell the Lady Superiorthat he had come thither on behalf of the King.

The Lady Superior came down into the parlour, andrecognising the King from a superb miniature, besoughthim of his grandeur to interest himself in this younglady of quality, devoid of means and fatherless, andconsented, moreover, to give her up to him, since asKing he so commanded.

Louise de la Beaume-le-Blanc obeyed the King, or inother words, the dictates of her own heart, imprudentlyembarking upon a career of passion, for which a temperamentwholly different from hers was needed. It isnot simple-minded maidens that one wants at Court toshare the confidence of princes. No doubt naturesof that sort—­simple, disinterested soulsare pleasant and agreeable to them, as therein theyfind contentment such as they greedily prize; but forthese unsullied, romantic natures, disillusion, trickeryalone is in store. And if Mademoiselle de laBeaumele-Blanc had listened to me, she might haveturned matters to far better account; nor, after yieldingup her youth to a monarch, would she have been obligedto end, her days in a prison.

The King no longer visited her as his mistress, buttrusted and esteemed her as a friend and as the motherof his two pretty children.

One day, in the month of April, 1674, his Majesty,while in the gardens, received the following letter,which one of La Valliere’s pages proffered himon bended knee:

Sire:—­To-day I am leaving foreverthis palace, whither the cruellest of fatalities summonedmy youth and inexperience. Had I not met you,my heart would have loved seclusion, a laborious life,and my kinsfolk. An imperious inclination, whichI could not conquer, gave me to you, and, simple,docile as I was by nature, I believed that my passionwould always prove to me delicious, and that yourlove would never die. In this world nothingendures. My fond attachment has ceased to haveany charm for you, and my heart is filled with dismay. This trial has come from God; of this my reason andmy faith are convinced. God has felt compassionfor my unspeakable grief. That which for longpast I have suffered is greater than human force canbear; He is going to receive me into His home of mercy. He promises me both healing and peace.

In this theatre of pomp and perfidy I have only stayeduntil such a moment as my daughter and her youthfulbrother might more easily do without me. Youwill cherish them both; of that I have no doubt.Guide them, I beseech you, for the sake of your ownglory and their well-being. May your watchfulcare sustain them, while their mother, humbled andprostrate in a cloister, shall commend them to Himwho pardons all.

After my departure, show some kindness to those whowere my servants and faithful domestics, and deignto take back the estates and residences which servedto support me in my frivolous grandeur, and maintainthe celebrity that I deplore.

Adieu, Sire! Think no more about me, lest sucha feeling, to which my imagination might but all tooreadily lend itself, only beget links of sympathyin my heart which conscience and repentance would faindestroy.

If God call me to himself, young though yet I am,He will have granted my prayers; if He ordain me tolive for a while longer in this desert of penitence,it will never compensate for the duration of my error,nor for the scandal of which I have been the cause.

Your subject from this time forth, Louise dela Valliere.

The King had not been expecting so desperate a resolveas this, nor did he feel inclined to hinder her frommaking it. He left the Portuguese ambassador,who witnessed his agitation, and hastened to Madamede la Valliere’s, who had left her apartmentsin the castle at daybreak. He shed tears, beingkind of heart and convinced that a body so gracefuland so delicate would never be able to resist therigours and hardships of so terrible a life.

The Carmelite nuns of the Rue Saint Jacques loudlyproclaimed this conversion, and in their vanity gladlyreceived into their midst so modest and distinguisheda victim, driven thither through sheer despair.

The ceremony which these dames call “takingthe dress” attracted the entire Court to theirchurch. The Queen herself desired to be presentat so harrowing a spectacle, and by a curious contradiction,of which her capricious nature is capable, she shedfloods of tears. La Valliere seemed gentler,lovelier, more modest and more seductive than ever. In the midst of the grief and tears which her courageoussacrifice provoked, she never uttered a single sigh,nor did she change colour once. Hers was a naturemade for extremes; like Caesar, she said to herself,“Either Rome or nothing!”

The Abbe de Bossuet, who had been charged to preachthe sermon of investiture, showed a good deal of witby exhibiting none at all. The King must havefelt indebted to him for such reserve. Into hisdiscourse he had put mere vague commonplaces, whichneither touch nor wound any one; honeyed anathemassuch as these may even pass for compliments.

This prelate has won for himself a great name andgreat wealth by words. A proof of his clevernessexists in his having lived in grandeur, opulence,and worldly happiness, while making people believethat he condemned such things.

CHAPTER XIV.

Story of the Queen-mother’s Marriage with CardinalMazarin Published in Holland.

Despite the endeavours made by the ministers concerningthe pamphlet or volume about which I am going to speak,neither they nor the King succeeded in quashing asinister rumour and an opinion which had taken deeproot among the people. Ever since this calumnyit believes—­and will always believe—­inthe twin brother of Louis XIV., suppressed, one knowsnot why, by his mother, just as one believes in fairy-talesand novels. This false rumour, invented by far-seeingfolk, is that which has most affected the King. I will recount the manner in which it reached him.

Since the disorder and insolence of the Fronde, thisprince did not like to reside in the capital; he sooninvented pretexts for getting away from it. The chateau of the Tuileries, built by Catherine deMedici at some distance from the Louvre, was, reallyspeaking, only a little country-house and Trianon. The King conceived the plan of uniting this structurewith his palace at the Louvre, extending it on theSaint Roch side and also on the side of the river,and this being settled, the Louvre gallery would becarried on as far as the southern angle of the newbuilding, so as to form one whole edifice, as it nowappears.

While these alterations were in progress, the Courtquitted the Louvre and the capital, and took up itspermanent residence at Saint Germain.

Though ceasing to make a royal residence and homeof Paris, his Majesty did not omit to pay occasionalvisits to the centre of the capital. He cameincognito, sometimes on horseback, sometimes in a coach,and usually went about the streets on foot. On these occasions he was dressed carelessly, likeany ordinary young man, and the better to ensure acomplete disguise, he kept continually changing eitherthe colour of his moustache or the colour and cutof his clothes. One evening, on leaving theopera, just as he was about to open his carriage door,a man approached him with a great air of mystery,and tendering a pamphlet, begged him to buy it. To get rid of the importunate fellow, his Majestypurchased the book, and never glanced at its contentsuntil the following day.

Imagine his surprise and indignation! The followingwas the title of his purchase:

“Secret and Circ*mstantial Account of the Marriageof Anne of Austria, Queen of France, with the AbbeJules Simon Mazarin, Cardinal of the Holy Roman Church. A new edition, carefully revised. Amsterdam.”

Grave and phlegmatic by nature, the King was alwaysmaster of his feelings, a sign, this, of the noble-minded. He shut himself up in his apartment, so as to bequite alone, and hastily perused the libellous pamphlet.

According to the author of it, King Louis XIII., beingweak and languid, and sapped moreover by secret poison,had not been able to beget any heirs. The Queen,who secretly was Mazarin’s mistress, had hadtwins by the Abbe, only the prettier of the two beingdeclared legitimate. The other twin had beenentrusted to obscure teachers, who, when it was time,would give him up.

The princess, so the writer added, stung by qualmsof conscience, had insisted upon having her guiltyintimacy purified by the sacrament of marriage, towhich the prime minister agreed. Then, mentioningthe names of such and such persons as witnesses, thebook stated that “this marriage was solemnisedon a night in February, 1643, by Cardinal de Sainte-Suzanne,a brother and servile creature of Mazarin’s.”

“This explains,” added the vile print,“the zeal, perseverance, and foolish ardourof the Queen Regent in defending her Italian againstthe just opposition of the nobles, against the formalcharges of the magistrates, against the clamorousoutcry, not only of Parisians, but of all France. This explains the indifference, or rather the firmresolve, on Mazarin’s part; never to take orders,but to remain simply ‘tonsure’ or ’minore’,—­hewho controls at least forty abbeys, as well as a bishopric.

“Look at the young monarch,” it continued,“and consider how closely he resembles his Eminence,the same haughty glance; the same uncontrolled passionfor pompous buildings, luxurious dress and equipages;the same deference and devotion to the Queen-mother;the same independent customs, precepts, and laws;the same aversion for the Parisians; the same resentmentagainst the honest folk of the Fronde.”

This final phrase easily disclosed its origin; norupon this point had
his Majesty the slightestshadow of a doubt.

The same evening he sent full instructions to thelieutenant-general of police, and two days afterwardsthe nocturnal vendor of pamphlets found himself caughtin a trap.

The King wished him to be brought to Saint Germain,so that he might identify him personally; and, ashe pretended to be half-witted or an idiot, he wasthrown half naked into a dungeon. His allowanceof dry bread diminished day by day, at which he complained,and it was decided to make him undergo this grim ordeal.

Under the pressure of hunger and thirst, the prisonerat length made a confession, and mentioned a booksellerof the Quartier Latin, who, under the Fronde, hadmade his shop a meeting-place for rebels.

The bookseller, having been put in the Bastille, andupon the same diet as his salesman, stated the nameof the Dutch printer who had published the pamphlet. They sought to extract more from him, and reducedhis diet with such severity that he disclosed theentire secret.

This bookseller, used to a good square meal at home,found it impossible to tolerate the Bastille faremuch longer. Bound hand and foot, at his finalcross-examination he confessed that the work had emanatedfrom the Cardinal de Retz, or certain of his party.

He was condemned to three years’ imprisonment,and was obliged to sell his shop and retire to theprovinces.

I once heard M. de Louvois tell this tale, and useit as a means of silencing those who regretted theabsence of the exiled Cardinal-archbishop.

As to the libellous pamphlet itself, the clumsy natureof it was only too plain, for the King is no morelike Mazarin than he is like the King of Ethiopia. On the contrary, one can easily distinguish in thegeneral effect of his features a very close resemblanceto King Louis XIII.

The libellous pamphlet stated that, on the occasionof the Infanta’s first confinement, twins wereborn, and that the prettier of the two had been adopted,another blunder, this, of the grossest kind. A book of this sort could deceive only the workingclass and the Parisian lower orders, for folk aboutthe Court, and even the bourgeoisie, know that itis impossible for a queen to be brought to bed in secret. Unfortunately for her, she has to comply with themost embarrassing rules of etiquette. She hasto bear her final birth-pangs under an open canopy,surrounded at no great distance by all the princesof the blood; they are summoned thither, and theyhave this right so as to prevent all frauds, subterfuges,or impositions.

When the King found the seditious book in question,the Queen, his mother, was ill and in pain; everypossible precaution was taken to prevent her fromhearing the news, and the lieutenant-general of police,having informed the King that two-thirds of the editionhad been seized close to the Archbishop’s palace,orders were given to burn all these horrible booksby night, in the presence of the Marquis de Beringhen,appointed commissioner on this occasion.

CHAPTER XV.

Monsieur le Duc d’Orleans Wishes to be Governorof a Province.—­The King’s Reply.—­HeRequires a Fauteuil for His Wife.—­AnotherExcellent Answer of the King’s.

In marrying Monsieur, the King consulted only hiswell-known generosity, and the richly equipped householdwhich he granted to this prince should assuredly havemade him satisfied and content. The Chevalierde Lorraine and the Chevalier de Remecourt, two pleasantand baneful vampires whom Monsieur could refuse nothing,put it into his head that he should make himself feared,so as to lead his Majesty on to greater concessions,which they were perfectly able to turn to their ownenjoyment and profit.

Monsieur began by asking for the governorship of aprovince; in reply he was told that this could notbe, seeing that such appointments were never givento French princes, brothers of the King.

Monsieur le Duc d’Orleans hastened to pointout that Gaston, son of Henri IV., had had such apost, and that the Duc de Verneuil, natural son ofthe same Henri, had one at the present time.

“That is true,” replied the King, “butfrom my youth upward you have always heard me condemnsuch innovations, and you cannot expect me to do thevery thing that I have blamed others for doing. If ever you were minded, brother, to rebel againstmy authority, your first care would, undoubtedly,be to withdraw to your province, where, like Gaston,your uncle, you would have to raise troops and money. Pray do not weary me with indiscretions of this sort;and tell those people who influence you to give youbetter advice for the future.”

Somewhat abashed, the Duc d’Orleans affirmedthat what he had said and done was entirely of hisown accord.

“Did you speak of your own accord,” saidthe King, “when insisting upon being admittedto the privy council? Such a thing can no longerbe allowed. You inconsiderately expressed twodifferent opinions, and since you cannot control yourtongue, which is most undoubtedly your own, I haveno power over it,—­I, to whom it does notwant to belong.”

Then Monsieur le Duc d’Orleans added that thesetwo refusals would seem less harsh, less painful tohim, if the King would grant a seat in his own apartments,and in those of the Queen, to the Princess, his wife,who was a king’s daughter.

“No, that cannot be,” replied his Majesty,“and pray do not insist upon it. It isnot I who have established the present customs; theyexisted long before you or me. It is in yourinterest, brother, that the majesty of the throneshould not be weakened or altered; and if, from Ducd’Orleans, you one day become King of France,I know you well enough to believe that you would neverbe lax in this matter. Before God, you and Iare exactly the same as other creatures that live andbreathe; before men we are seemingly extraordinary

beings, greater, more refined, more perfect. The day that people, abandoning this respect and venerationwhich is the support and mainstay of monarchies,—­theday that they regard us as their equals,—­allthe prestige of our position will be destroyed. Bereft of beings superior to the mass, who act astheir leaders and supports, the laws will only beas so many black lines on white paper, and your armlesschair and my fauteuil will be two pieces of furnitureof the selfsame importance. Personally, I shouldlike to gratify you in every respect, for the sameblood flows in our veins, and we have loved each otherfrom the cradle upwards. Ask of me things thatare practicable, and you shall see that I will forestallyour wishes. Personally, I daresay I care lessabout honorary distinctions than you do, and in Cabinetmatters I am always considered to be simpler and moreeasy to deal with than such and such a one. Oneword more, and I have done. I will nominateyou to the governorship of any province you choose,if you will now consent in writing to let proceedingsbe taken against you, just as against any ordinarygentleman, in case there should be sedition in yourprovince, or any kind of disorder during your administration.”

Hereupon young Philippe began to smile, and he beggedthe King to embrace him.

CHAPTER XVI.

Arms and Livery of Madame de Montespan.—­duch*essor Princess.—­Fresh Scandal Caused by theMarquis.—­The Rue Saint Honore Affair.—­M.de Ronancour.—­Separation of Body and Estate.

When leaving, despite himself, for the provinces,M. de Montespan wrote me a letter full of bitter insults,in which he ordered me to give up his coat-of-arms,his livery, and even his name.

This letter I showed to the King. For a whilehe was lost in thought, as usual on such occasions,and then he said to me:

“There’s nothing extraordinary about thefellow’s livery. Put your servants intopale orange with silver lace. Assume your oldcrest of Mortemart, and as regards name, I will buyyou an estate with a pretty title.”

“But I don’t like pale orange,”I instantly replied; “if I may, I should liketo choose dark blue, and gold lace, and as regardscrest, I cannot adopt my father’s crest, exceptin lozenge form, which could not seriously be done. As it is your gracious intention to give me the nameof an estate, give me (for to you everything is easy)a duchy like La Valliere, or, better still, a principality.”

The King smiled, and answered, “It shall bedone, madame, as you wish.”

The very, next day I went into Paris to acquaint my,lawyer with my intentions. Several magnificentestates were just then in the market, but only marquisates,counties, or baronies! Nothing illustrious,nothing remarkable! Duhamel assured me that theestate of Chabrillant, belonging to a spendthrift,was up for sale.

“That,” said he, “is a sonorousname, the brilliant renown of which would only beenhanced by the title of princess.”

Duhamel promised to see all his colleagues in thismatter, and to find me what I wanted without delay.

I quitted Paris without having met or recognised anybody,when, about twenty paces at the most beyond the PorteSaint Honor, certain sergeants or officials of somesort roughly stopped my carriage and seized my horses’bridles “in the King’s name.”

“In the King’s name?” I cried,showing myself at the coach door.

“Insolent fellows! How dare you thus takethe King’s name in vain?” At the sametime I told my coachman to whip up his horses withthe reins and to drive over these vagabonds. At a word from me the three footmen jumped down anddid their duty by dealing out lusty thwacks to thesergeants. A crowd collected, and townsfolk andpassers-by joined in the fray.

A tall, fine-looking man, wrapped in a dressing-gown,surveyed the tumult like a philosopher from his balconyoverhead. I bowed graciously to him and besoughthim to come down. He came, and in sonorous accentsexclaimed:

“Ho, there! serving-men of my lady, stop fighting,will you? And pray, sergeants, what is yourbusiness?”

“It is a disgrace,” cried they all, aswith one breath. “Madame lets her scoundrellyfootmen murder us, despite the name of his Majesty,which we were careful to utter at the outset of things. Madame is a person (as everybody in France now knows)who is in open revolt against her husband; she hasdeserted him in order to cohabit publicly with someone else. Her husband claims his coach, withhis own crest and armorial bearings thereon, and weare here for the purpose of carrying out the orderof one of the judges of the High Court.”

“If that be so,” replied the man in thedressing-gown, “I have no objection to offer,and though madame is loveliness itself, she must sufferme to pity her, and I have the honour of saluting her.”

So saying, he made me a bow and left me, without helpof any sort, in the midst of this crazy rabble.

I was inconsolable. My coachman, the best fellowin the world, called out to him from the top of hisbog, “Monsieur, pray procure help for my mistress,—­forMadame la Marquise de Montespan.”

No sooner had he uttered these words than the gentlemancame back again, while, among the lookers-on, somehissing was heard. He raised both hands withan air of authority, and speaking with quite incrediblevehemence and fire, he successfully harangued the crowd.

“Madame does not refuse to comply with the requirementsof justice,” he added firmly; “but madame,a member of the Queen’s household, is returningto Versailles, and cannot go thither on foot, or insome tumbledown vehicle. So I must beg theseconstables or sergeants (no matter which) to defertheir arrest until to-morrow, and to accept me assurety. The French people is the friend of fairladies; and true Parisians are incapable of harmingor of persecuting aught that is gracious and beautiful.”

All those present, who at first had hissed, repliedto this speech by cries of “Bravo!” Oneof my men, who had been wounded in the scuffle, hadhis hand all bloody. A young woman brought somelavender-water, and bound up the wound with her whitehandkerchief, amid loud applause from the crowd, whileI bowed my acknowledgments and thanks.

The King listened with interest to the account ofthe adventure that I have just described, and wishedto know the name of the worthy man who had acted asmy support and protector. His name was De Tarcy-Ronancour.The King granted him a pension of six thousand francs,and gave the Abbey of Bauvoir to his daughter.

As for me, I kept insisting with might and main fora separation of body and estate, which alone couldput an end to all my anxiety. When a decreefor such separation was pronounced at the Chatelet,and registered according to the rules, I set aboutarranging an appanage which, from the very first day,had seemed to me absolutely necessary for my position.

As ill-luck would have it, the judges left me thename of Montespan, which to my husband was so irksome,and to myself also; and the King, despite repeatedpromises, never relieved me of a name that it was verydifficult to bear.

BOOK 2.

CHAPTER XVII.

Monsieur’s Jealousy.—­Diplomacy.—­Discretion.—­TheChevalier de Lorraine’s Revenge.—­TheKing’s Suspicions.—­His Indignation.—­PublicVersion of the Matter.—­The Funeral Sermon.

After six months of wedlock, Henrietta of Englandhad become so beautiful that the King drew every one’sattention to this change, as if he were not unmindfulof the fact that he had given this charming personto his brother instead of reserving her for himselfby marrying her.

Between cousins german attentions are permissible. The Court, however, was not slow to notice the attentionspaid by the King to this young English princess, andMonsieur, wholly indifferent though he was as regardedhis wife, deemed it a point of honour to appear offendedthereat. Ever a slave to the laws of good breeding,the King showed much self-sacrifice in curbing thisviolent infatuation of his. (I was Madame’smaid of honour at the time.) As he contemplated aDutch expedition, in which the help of England wouldhave counted for much, he resolved to send a negotiatorto King Charles. The young Princess was herbrother’s pet; it was upon her that the King’schoice fell.

She crossed the Channel under the pretext of payinga flying visit to her native country and her brother,but, in reality, it was to treat of matters of theutmost importance.

Upon her return, Monsieur, the most curious and inquisitiveof mortals, importuned her in a thousand ways, seekingto discover her secret; but she was a person bothfaithful and discreet. Of her interview andjourney he got only such news as was already publishedon the housetops. At such reticence he took umbrage;he grumbled, sulked, and would not speak to his wife.

The Chevalier de Lorraine, who in that illustriousand luckless household was omnipotent, insulted thePrincess in the most outrageous manner. Findingsuch daily slights and affronts unbearable, Madamecomplained to the Kings of France and England, whoboth exiled the Chevalier.

Monsieur de Lorraine d’Armagnac, before leaving,gave instructions to Morel, one of Monsieur’skitchen officials, to poison the Princess, and thismonster promptly executed the order by rubbing poisonon her silver goblet.

I no longer belonged to Madame’s household,—­mymarriage had caused a change in my duties; but everfeeling deep attachment for this adorable princess,I hastened to Saint Cloud directly news reached meof her illness. To my horror, I saw the suddenchange which had come over her countenance; her horribleagony drew tears from the most callous, and approachingher I kissed her hand, in spite of her confessor, whosought to constrain her to be silent. She thenrepeatedly told me that she was dying from the effectsof poison.

This she also told the King, whom she perceived shedtears of consternation and distress.

That evening, at Versailles, the King said to me,“If this crime is my brother’s handiwork,his head shall fall on the scaffold.”

When the body was opened, proof of poison was obtained,and poison of the most corrosive sort, for the stomachwas eaten into in three places, and there was generalinflammation.

The King summoned his brother, in order to force himto explain so heinous a crime. On perceivinghis mien, Monsieur became pale and confused. Rushing upon him sword in hand, the King was for demolishinghim on the spot. The captain of the guard hastenedthither, and Monsieur swore by the Holy Ghost thathe was guiltless of the death of his dear wife.

Leaving him a prey to remorse, if guilty he were,the King commanded him to withdraw, and then shuthimself up in his closet to prepare a consolatorymessage to the English Court. According to thewritten statement, which was also published in thenewspapers, Madame had been carried off by an attackof bilious colic. Five or six bribed physicianscertified to that effect, and a lying set of depositions,made for mere form’s sake, bore out their statementsin due course.

The Abbe de Bossuet, charged to preach the funeralsermon, was apparently desirous of being as obligingas the doctors. His homily led off with suchfulsome praise of Monsieur, that, from that day forward,he lost all his credit, and sensible people thereafteronly looked upon him as a vile sycophant, a mere dealerin flattery and fairy-tales.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Madame Scarron.—­Her Petition.—­TheKing’s Aversion to Her.—­She is
Presented to Madame de Montespan.—­The Queenof Portugal Thinks of
Engaging Her.—­Madame de Montespan KeepsHer Back.—­The Pension
Continued.—­The King’s Graciousness.—­Rageof Mademoiselle d’Aumale.

As all the pensions granted by the Queen-mother hadceased at her demise, the pensioners began to solicitthe ministers anew, and all the petitions, as is customary,were sent direct to the King.

One day his Majesty said to me, “Have you evermet in society a young widow, said to be very pretty,but, at the same time, extremely affected? Itis to Madame Scarron that I allude, who, both beforeand after widowhood, has resided at the Marais.”

I replied that Madame Scarron was an extremely pleasantperson, and not at all affected. I had met herat the Richelieus’ or the Albrets’, whereher charm of manner and agreeable wit had made herin universal request. I added a few words ofrecommendation concerning her petition, which, unfortunately,had just been torn up, and the King curtly rejoined,“You surprise me, madame; the portrait I hadgiven to me of her was a totally different one.”

That same evening, when the young Marquis d’Alincourspoke to me about this petition which had never obtainedany answer, I requested him to go and see Madame Scarronas soon as possible, and tell her that, in her owninterest, I should be pleased to receive her.

She lost no time in paying me a visit. Her blackattire served only to heighten the astounding whitenessof her complexion. Effusively thanking me forinteresting myself in her most painful case, she added:

“There is, apparently, some obstacle againstme. I have presented two petitions and two memoranda;being unsupported, both have been left unanswered,and I have now just made the following resolve, madame,of which you will not disapprove. M. Scarron,apparently well off, had only a life interest in hisproperty. Upon his death, his debts proved inexcess of his capital, and I, deeming it my duty torespect his intentions and his memory, paid off everybody,and left myself nothing. To-day, Madame la Princessede Nemours wishes me to accompany her to Lisbon asher secretary, or rather as her friend.

“Being about to acquire supreme power as a sovereign,she intends, by some grand marriage, to keep me there,and then appoint me her lady-in-waiting.”

“And you submit without a murmur to such appallingexile?” I said to Madame Scarron. “Issuch a pretty, charming person as yourself fittedfor a Court of that kind, and for such an odd sortof climate?”

“Madame, I have sought to shut my eyes to manythings, being solely conscious of the horribly forlorncondition in which I find myself in my native country.”

“Have you reckoned the distance? Did thePrincess confess that she was going to carry you offto the other end of the world? For her city ofLisbon, surrounded by precipices, is more than threehundred leagues from Paris.”

“At the age of three I voyaged to America, returninghither when I was eleven.”

“I am vexed with Mademoiselle d’Aumale—­

[Mademoiselle d’Aumale, daughter of the Ducde Nemours, of the House of Savoy. She was ablonde, pleasant-mannered enough, but short of stature.Her head was too big for her body; and this head ofhers was full of conspiracies and coups d’etat. She dethroned her husband in order to marry his brother.—­Editor’snote.]

for wanting to rob us of so charming a treasure. But has she any right to act in this way? Doyou think her capable of contributing to your pleasureor your happiness? This young Queen of Portugal,under the guise of good-humour, hides a violent andirascible temperament. I believe her to be thoroughlyselfish; suppose that she neglects and despises you,after having profited by your company to while awaythe tedium of her journey? Take my word forit, madame, you had better stay here with us; forthere is no real society but in France, no wit butin our great world, no real happiness but in Paris. Draw up another petition as quickly as possible,and send it to me. I will present it myself,and to tell you this is tantamount to a promise thatyour plea shall succeed.”

Mademoiselle d’Aubigne, all flushed with emotion,assured me of her gratitude with the ingenuous eloquencepeculiar to herself. We embraced as two friendsof the Albret set should do, and three days later,the King received a new petition, not signed withthe name of Scarron, but with that of D’Aubigne.

The pension of two thousand francs, granted threeyears before her death by the Queen-mother, was renewed. Madame Scarron had the honour of making her courtesyto the King, who thought her handsome, but grave indemeanour, and in a loud, clear voice, he said to her,“Madame, I kept you waiting; I was jealous ofyour friends.”

The Queen of Portugal knew that I had deprived herof her secretary, fellow-gossip, reader, Spanish teacher,stewardess, confidante, and lady-in-waiting. She wrote to me complaining about this, and on takingleave of the King to go and reign in Portugal, shesaid, with rather a forced air of raillery:

“I shall hate you as long as I live, and ifever you do me the honour of paying me a visit someday at Lisbon, I’ll have you burned for yourpains.”

Then she wanted to embrace me, as if we were equals,but this I deprecated as much from aversion as fromrespect.

CHAPTER XIX.

La Fontaine.—­Boileau.—­Moliere.—­Corneille.—­LouisXIV.’s Opinion of Each of Them.

The King’s studies with his preceptor, Perefixe,had been of only a superficial sort, as, in accordancewith the express order of the Queen-mother, this prelatehad been mainly concerned about the health of hispupil, the Queen being, above all, desirous that heshould have a good constitution. “Therest comes easily enough, if a prince have but nobilityof soul and a sense of duty,” as the Queen oftenused to say. Her words came true.

I came across several Spanish and Italian books inthe library of the little apartments. The “PastorFido,” “Aminta,” and the “Gerusalemme" seemed to me, at first, to be the favourite works. Then came Voiture’s letters, the writings ofMalherbe and De Balzac, the Fables of La Fontaine,the Satires of Boileau, and the delightful comediesof Moliere. Corneille’s tragedies had beenread, but not often.

Until I came to Court, I had always looked upon Corneilleas the greatest tragic dramatist in the world, andas the foremost of our poets and men of letters. The King saved me from this error.

Book in hand, he pointed out to me numberless faultsof style, incoherent and fantastic imagery, sentimentalike exaggerated and a thousand leagues removed fromnature. He considered, and still considers, PierreCorneille to be a blind enthusiast of the ancients,whom we deem great since we do not know them. In his eyes, this declamatory poet was a republicanmore by virtue of his head than his heart or his intention,—­oneof those men more capricious than morose, who cannotreconcile themselves to what exists, and prefer tofall back upon bygone generations, not knowing howto live like friendly folk among their contemporaries.

He liked La Fontaine better, by reason of his extremenaturalness, but his unbecoming conduct at the timeof the Fouquet trial proved painful to his Majesty,who considered the following verses passing strange:

“. . . . Trust not in kings Their favouris but slippery; worse than that, It costs one dear,and errors such as these Full oft bring shame andscandal in their wake.”

“Long live Moliere!” added his Majesty;“there you have talent without artifice, poetrywithout rhapsody, satire without bitterness, pleasantrythat is always apt, great knowledge of the human heart,and perpetual raillery that yet is not devoid of delicacyand compassion. Moliere is a most charming manin every respect; I gave him a few hints for his ‘Tartuffe,’and such is his gratitude that he wants to make outthat, without me, he would never have written thatmasterpiece.”

“You helped him, Sire, to produce it, and aboveall things, to carry out his main idea; and Moliereis right in thinking that, without a mind free fromerror, such as is yours, his masterpiece would neverhave been created.”

“It struck me,” continued the King, “thatsome such thing was indispensable as a counterbalancein the vast machinery of my government, and I shallever be the friend and supporter, not of Tartuffes,but of the ‘Tartuffe,’ as long as I live.”

“And Boileau, Sire?” I continued; “whatplace among your favourites does he fill?”

“I like Boileau,” replied the prince,“as a necessary scourge, which one can pit againstthe bad taste of second-rate authors. His satires,of too personal, a nature, and consequently iniquitous,do not please me. He knows it, and, despite himself,he will amend this. He is at work upon an ‘ArsPoetica,’ after the manner of Horace. Thelittle that he has read to me of this poem leads meto expect that it will be an important work. The French language will continue to perfect itselfby the help of literature like this, and Boileau,cruel though he be, is going to confer a great benefitupon all those who have to do with letters.”

CHAPTER XX.

Birth of the Comte de Vegin.—­Madame Scarronas Governess.—­The King’s ContinuedDislike of Her.—­Birth of the Duc du Maine.—­Marriageof the Nun.

The King became ever more attached to me personally,as also to the peculiarities of my temperament. He had witnessed with satisfaction the birth of Madamede la Valliere’s two children, and I thoughtthat he would have the same affection for mine. But I was wrong. It was with feelings of trepidationand alarm that he contemplated my approaching confinement. Had I given birth to a daughter, I am perfectly certainthat, in his eyes, I should have been done for.

I gave birth to the first Comte de Vegin, and, graspingmy hand affectionately, the King said to me, “Beof good courage, madame; present princes to the Crown,and let those be scandalised who will!” A fewmoments later he came back, and gave me a million formy expenses.

It was, however, mutually arranged that the newbornInfant should be recognised later on, and that, forthe time being, I was to have him brought up in secrecyand mystery.

When dissuading Madame Scarron from undertaking ajourney to Lisbon, I had my own private ends in view. I considered her peculiarly fitted to superintendthe education of the King’s children, and tomaintain with success the air of mysterious reservewhich for a while was indispensable to me. Ideputed my brother, M. de Vivonne, to acquaint herwith my proposals,—­proposals which camefrom the King as well,—­nor did I doubtfor one moment as regarded her consent and complacency,being, as she was, alone in Paris.

“Madame,” said M. de Vivonne to her, “theMarquise is overjoyed at being able to offer you animportant position of trust, which will change yourlife once for all.”

“The gentle, quiet life which, thanks to thekindness of the King, I now lead, is all that my ambitioncan desire,” replied the widow, concealing hertrouble from my brother; “but since the Kingwishes and commands it, I will renounce the libertyso dear to me, and will not hesitate to obey.”

Accordingly she came. The King had a few moments’parley with her, in order to explain to her all hisintentions relative to the new life upon which shewas about to enter, and M. Bontems—­[FirstGroom of the Chamber, and Keeper of the Privy Purse.]—­furnishedher with the necessary funds for establishing herhousehold in suitable style.

A month afterwards, I went incognito to her lonelyresidence, situate amid vast kitchen-gardens betweenVaugirard and the Luxembourg. The house wasclean, commodious, thoroughly well appointed, and,not being overlooked by neighbours, the secret couldbut be safely kept. Madame Scarron’s domesticsincluded two nurses, a waiting-maid, a physician, acourier, two footmen, a coachman, a postilion, andtwo cooks.

Being provided with an excellent coach, she came toSaint Germain every week, to bring me my son, or elsenews of his welfare.

Her habitually sad expression somewhat pained theKing. As I soon noticed their mutual embarrassment,I used to let Madame Scarron stay in an inner roomall the time that his Majesty remained with me.

In the following year, I gave birth to the Duc duMaine. Mademoiselle d’Aubigne, who waswaiting in the drawing-room, wrapped the child upcarefully, and took it away from Paris with all speed.

On her way she met with an adventure, comic in itself,and which mortified her much. When told of it,I laughed not a little; and, in spite of all my excusesand expressions of regret, she always felt somewhatsore about this; in fact, she never quite got overit.

Between Marly and Ruel, two mounted police officers,in pursuit of a nun who had escaped from a convent,bethought themselves of looking inside Madame Scarron’scarriage. Such inquisitiveness surprised her,and she put on her mask, and drew down the blinds. Observing that she was closely followed by thesesoldiers, she gave a signal to her coachman, who instantlywhipped up his horses, and drove at a furious rate.

At Nanterre the gendarmes, being reinforced, criedout to the coachman to stop, and obliged Madame Scarronto get out. She was taken to a tavern closeby, where they asked her to remove her mask. She made various excuses for not doing so, but atthe mention of the lieutenant-general of police, shehad to give in.

“Madame,” inquired the brigadier, “haveyou not been in a nunnery?”

“Pray, monsieur, why do you ask?”

“Be good enough to answer me, madame; repeatmy question, and I insist upon a reply. I havereceived instructions that I shall not hesitate tocarry out.”

“I have lived with nuns, but that, monsieur,was a long while ago.”

“It is not a question of time. What wasyour motive for leaving these ladies, and who enabledyou to do so?”

“I left the convent after my first communion. I left it openly, and of my own free will. Pray be good enough to allow me to continue my journey.”

“On leaving the convent, where did you go?”

“First to one of my relatives, then to another,and at last to Paris, where I got married.”

“Married? What, madame, are you married? Oh, young lady, what behaviour is this? Yoursimple, modest mien plainly shows what you were beforethis marriage. But why did you want to get married?”

As he said this, the little Duc du Maine, suffering,perhaps, from a twinge of colic, began to cry. The brigadier, more amazed than ever, ordered theinfant to be shown as well.

Seeing that she could make no defence, Madame Scarronbegan to shed tears, and the officer, touched to pity,said:

“Madame, I am sorry for your fault, for, asI see, you are a good mother. My orders are totake you to prison, and thence to the convent specifiedby the archbishop, but I warn you that if we catchthe father of your child, he will hang. As foryou, who have been seduced, and who belong to a goodfamily, tell me one of your relatives with whom youare on friendly terms, and I will undertake to informthem of your predicament.”

Madame Scarron, busy in soothing the Duc du Maine,durst not explain for fear of aggravating matters,but begged the brigadier to take her back to SaintGermain.

At this juncture my brother arrived on his way backto Paris. He recognised the carriage, whichstood before the inn, with a crowd of peasants roundit, and hastened to rescue the governess, for he soonsucceeded in persuading these worthy police officersthat the sobbing dame was not a runaway nun, and thatthe new-born infant came of a good stock.

CHAPTER XXI.

The Saint Denis View.—­Superstitions, Apparitions.—­ProjectedEnlargement of Versailles.—­Fresh Victimsfor Saint Denis.

One evening I was walking at the far end of the longterrace of Saint Germain. The King soon camethither, and pointing to Saint Denis, said, “That,madame, is a gloomy, funereal view, which makes medispleased and disgusted with this residence, finethough it be.”

“Sire,” I replied, “in no otherspot could a more magnificent view be found. Yonder river winding afar through the vast plain,that noble forest divided by hunting roads into squares,that Calvary poised high in air, those bridges placedhere and there to add to the attractiveness of thelandscape, those flowery meadows set in the foregroundas a rest to the eye, the broad stream of the Seine,which seemingly is fain to flow at a slower rate belowyour palace windows,—­I do not think thatany more charming combination of objects could bemet with elsewhere, unless one went a long way fromthe capital.”

“The chateau of Saint Germain no longer pleasesme,” replied the King. “I shall enlargeVersailles and withdraw thither. What I am goingto say may astonish you, perhaps, as it comes fromme, who am neither a whimsical female nor a prey tosuperstition. A few days before the Queen, mymother, had her final seizure, I was walking here alonein this very spot. A reddish light appearedabove the monastery of Saint Denis, and a cloud whichrose out of the ruddy glare assumed the shape of ahearse bearing the arms of Austria. A few daysafterwards my poor mother was removed to Saint Denis. Four or five days before the horrible death of ouradorable Henrietta, the arrows of Saint Denis appearedto me in a dream covered in dusky flames, and amidthem I saw the spectre of Death, holding in his handthe necklaces and bracelets of a young lady. The appalling death of my cousin followed close uponthis presage. Henceforth, the view of Saint Denisspoils all these pleasant landscapes for me. At Versailles fewer objects confront the eye; a parkof that sort has its own wealth of natural beauty,which suffices. I shall make Versailles a delightfulresort, for which France will be grateful to me, andwhich my successors can neither neglect nor destroywithout bringing to themselves dishonour.”

I sympathised with the reasons which made Saint Germaindisagreeable to his Majesty. Next summer thecauses for such aversion became more numerous, asthe King had the misfortune to lose the daughters whichthe Queen bore him, and they were carried to SaintDenis.

CHAPTER XXII.

M. de Lauzun.—­His Pretensions.—­ErroneousIdeas of the Public.—­The War in Candia.—­M.de Lauzun Thinks He Will Secure a Throne for Himself.—­TheKing Does Not Wish This.

The Marquis de Guilain de Lauzun was, and still is,one of the handsomest men at Court. Before mymarriage, vanity prompted him to belong to the listof my suitors, but as his reputation in Paris was thatof a man who had great success with the ladies, myfamily requested him either to come to the point orto retire, and he withdrew, though unwilling to breakmatters off altogether.

When he saw me in the bonds of matrimony, and enjoyingits liberty, he recommenced his somewhat equivocalpursuit of me, and managed to get himself talked aboutat my expense. Society was unjust; M. de Lauzunonly dared to pay me homage of an insipid sort. He had success enough in other quarters, and I knewwhat I owed to some one as well as what I owed tomyself.

Ambition is the Marquis’s ruling passion. The simple role of a fine gentleman is, in his eyes,but a secondary one; his Magnificency requires a farmore exalted platform than that.

When he knew that war in Candia had broken out, andwhich side the kings of Christendom would necessarilytake, his ideas became more exalted still. Hebethought himself of the strange fortunes of certainvaliant warriors in the time of the Crusades. He saw that the Lorraines, the Bouillons, and theLusignans had won sceptres and crowns, and he flatteredhimself that the name of Lauzun might in this vastadventurous career gain glory too.

He begged me to get him a command in this army ofCandia, wherein the King had just permitted his ownkinsmen to go and win laurels for themselves. He was already a full colonel of dragoons, and oneof the captains of the guard. The King, whotill then liked him well enough, considered such aproposition indecent, and, gauging or not gauging hisintentions, he postponed until a later period theseaspirations of Lauzun to the post of prince or sovereign.

CHAPTER XXIII.

The Abbe d’Estrees.—­Singular Offersof Service.—­Madame de Montespan DeclinesHis Offer of Intercession at the Vatican.—­HeRevenges Himself upon the King of Portugal.—­Differencebetween a Fair Man and a Dark.

Since the reign of Gabrielle d’Estrees, whodied just as she was about to espouse her King, theD’Estrees family were treated at Court more withconventional favour than with esteem. The firstof that name was lieutenant-general, destined to wieldthe baton of a French marshal, on account of his ancestryas well as his own personal merit. The Abbed’Estrees passed for being in the Church whatM. de Lauzun was in society,—­a man whoalways met with success, and who also was madly ambitious.

While still very young, he had been appointed to thebishopric of Laon, which, in conjunction with twosplendid abbeys, brought him in a handsome revenue. The Duc and duch*esse de Vendome were as fond of himas one of their own kin, doing nothing without firstconsulting him, everywhere praising and extollinghis abilities, which were worthy of a ministry.

This prelate desired above all things to be made acardinal. Under Henri IV. he could easily havehad his wish, but at that time he was not yet born. He imagined that on the strength of my credit he couldprocure the biretta for himself.

As soon as he saw me recognised as a mistress, hepaid assiduous court to me, never losing an opportunityof everywhere sounding my praise. One day hesaid to me: “Madame, every one pities youon account of the vexation and grief which the Marquisde Montespan has caused you. If you will confidein me,—­that is, if you will let me representyour interests with the Cardinals and the Holy Father,—­Iheartily offer you my services as mediator and advocatewith regard to the question of nullity. At anearly age I studied theology and ecclesiastical law. Your marriage may be considered null and void, accordingto this or that point of view. You know thatupon the death of the Princesse de Nemours, Mademoisellede Nemours and Mademoiselle d’Aumale, her twodaughters, came to reside with Madame de Vendome,my cousin, a relative and a friend of their mother.The eldest I first of all married to Duc Charles deLorraine, heir to the present Duc de Lorraine. His Majesty did not approve of this marriage, whichwas contrary to his politics. His Majesty deignedto explain himself and open out to me upon the subject. I at once consulted my books, and found all the meansnecessary for dissolving such a marriage. Sotrue, indeed is this, that I forthwith remarried Mademoisellede Nemours to the Duc de Savoie. This took placeunder your very eyes. Soon afterwards I marriedher younger sister to the King of Portugal, and accompaniedher to Lisbon, where the Portuguese gave her a fairlywarm reception. Her young husband is tall andfair, with a pleasant, distinguished face; he loveshis wife, and is only moderately beloved in return. Is she wrong or is she right? Now, I will tellyou. The monarch is well-made, but a childishinfirmity has left one whole side of him somewhatweak, and he limps. Mademoiselle d’Aumale,or to speak more correctly, the Queen of Portugal,writes letter upon letter to me, describing her situation. She believed herself pregnant, and had even announcedthe news to Madame de Vendome, as well as to Madamede Savoie, her sister. Now it appears that thisis not the case. She is vexed and disgusted. I am about to join her at Lisbon. She is inclinedto place the crown upon the young brother of the King,requesting the latter to seek the seclusion of a monastery. I can see that this new idea of the youthful Queen’swill necessitate my visiting the Vatican. Allowme, madame, to have charge of your interests. Do not have the slightest fear but that I shall protectthem zealously and intelligently, killing thus twobirds with one stone.”

“Pray accept my humble thanks,” I repliedto the Bishop. “The reigning SovereignPontiff has never shown me any favour whatever, andis in nowise one of my friends. What you desireto do for me at Rome deserves some signal mark ofgratitude in return, but I cannot get you a cardinal’shat, for a thousand reasons.

“Mademoiselle de Nemours, when leaving us, promisedto hate me as long as she lived, and to have me burntat an ‘auto da fe’ whenever she got thechance. Do not let her know that you have anyregard for me, or you might lose her affection.

“I hope that the weak side of her husband, theKing, may get stronger, and that you will not helpto put the young monarch in a convent of monks.

“In any case, my lord Bishop, do not breatheit to a living soul that you have told me of suchstrange resolutions as these; for my own part, I willsafely keep your secret, and pray God to have you inhis holy keeping.”

The Bishop of Laon was not a man to be rebuffed bypleasantry such as this. He declared the Kingof Portugal to be impotent, after what the Queen hadexpressly stated. The Pope annulled the marriage,and the Queen courageously wedded her husband’sbrother, who had no congenital weakness of any sort,and who was, as every one knew, of dark complexion.

At the request of the Queen, the Bishop of Laon wasafterwards presented with the hat, and is, today,my lord Cardinal d’Estrees.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Mademoiselle de Valois.—­Mademoiselle d’Orleans.—­Mademoiselled’Alencon.—­M. de Savoie.—­HisLove-letters.—­His Marriage with Mademoisellede Valois.—­M. de Guise and Mademoiselled’Alencon.—­Their Marriage Ceremony.—­Madamede Montespan’s Dog.—­Mademoiselled’Orleans.—­Her Marriage with the Dukeof Tuscany.—­The Bishop de Bonzy.

By his second wife, Marguerite de Lorraine, Gastonde France had three daughters, and being devoid ofenergy, ability, or greatness of character, they didnot object when the King married them to sovereignsof the third-rate order.

Upon these three marriages I should like to make someremarks, on account of certain singular details connectedtherewith, and because of the joking to which theygave rise.

Mademoiselle de Montpensier had flatly refused theDuc de Savoie, because Madame de Savoie, daughterof Henri IV., was still living, ruling her estatelike a woman of authority; and therefore, to this stepmother,a king’s daughter, Mademoiselle had to giveway, she being but the daughter of a French princewho died in disgrace and was forgotten.

Being refused by the elder princess, M. de Savoie,still quite young, sought the hand of her sister,Mademoiselle de Valois. He wrote her a letterwhich, unfortunately, was somewhat singular in style,and which, unfortunately too, fell into the handsof Mademoiselle de Montpensier. Like her latefather, Gaston, she plumed herself upon her wit andeloquence; she caused several copies of the effusionto be printed and circulated at Court. I willinclude it in these Memoirs, as it cannot but proveentertaining. The heroes of Greece, and evenof Troy, possibly delivered their compliments in somewhatbetter fashion, if we may judge by the version preservedfor us by Homer.

From his royal highness theDuc de Savoie to his mosthonoured cousin, mademoiselle deValois.

My dear cousin:—­As the penmust needs perform the office of the tongue, and asit expresses the feelings of my heart, I doubt notbut that I am at great disadvantage, since the depthof these feelings it cannot express, nor rightly convinceyou that, having given all myself to you, nothingremains either to give or to desire, save to find suchaffection pleasantly reciprocated. Thus, inthese lines, I earnestly beseech you to return mylove,—­lines which give you the first hintsof that fire which your many lovely qualities havelighted in my soul. They create in me an inconceivableimpatience closely to contemplate that which now Iadmire at a distance, and to convince you by variousproofs that, with matchless loyalty and passion,

I am, dear Cousin, Your most humble slave and servant,Emmanuel.

Gentle as an angel, Mademoiselle de Valois desiredjust what everybody else did. The youngest ofthe three princesses was named Mademoiselle d’Alencon. With a trifle more wit and dash, she could have maintainedher position at Court, where so charming a face ashers was fitted to make its mark; but her fine darkeyes did but express indifference and vacuity, seeminglyunconscious of the pleasure to be got in this worldwhen one is young, good-looking, shapely, a princessof the blood, and cousin german of the King besides.

Marguerite de Lorraine, her mother, married her tothe Duc de Guise, their near relative, who, withoutambition or pretension, seemed almost astonished tosee that the King gave, not a dowry, but a most lovelyverdure—­[Drawing-room tapestry, much invogue at that time]—­, and an enamelleddinner-service.

The marriage was celebrated at the chateau, withoutany special ceremonies or preparations; so much sothat two cushions, which had been forgotten, had tobe hastily fetched. I saw what was the matter,and motioning the two attendants of the royal sacristy,I whispered to them to fetch what was wanted frommy own apartment.

Not knowing to what use these cushions were to beput, my ’valet de chambre’ brought theflowered velvet ones, on which my dogs were wont tolie. I noticed this just as their Highnesseswere about to kneel down, and I felt so irresistiblyinclined to laugh that I was obliged to retire tomy room to avoid bursting out laughing before everybody.

Fortunately the Guises did not get to know of thislittle detail until long after, or they might haveimagined that it was a planned piece of maliciousmockery. However, it is only fair to admit thatthe marriage was treated in a very off-hand way, andit is that which always happens to people whose modestyand candour hinder them from posing and talking bigwhen they get the chance. A strange delusion,truly!

Mademoiselle d’Orleans, the eldest child ofthe second marriage, is considered one of the prettiestand most graceful of blondes. Her endowmentswere surely all that a princess could need, if oneexcept reserve in speaking, and a general dignityof deportment.

When it was a question of giving her to Prince deMedici, Grand Duke of Tuscany, she was all the whilesincerely attached to handsome Prince Charles de Lorraine,her maternal cousin. But the King, who, in hisheart of hearts, wanted to get hold of Lorraine forhimself, could not sanction this union; nay, he didmore: he opposed it. Accordingly the Princess,being urged to do so by her mother, consented to goto Italy, and as we say at Court, expatriate herself.

The Bishop of Nziers, named De Bonzy, the Tuscan charged’afaires, came, on behalf of the Medici family,to make formal demand of her hand, and had undertakento bring her to her husband with all despatch. He had undertaken an all too difficult task.

“Monsieur de Bonzy,” said she to the prelate,“as it is you who here play the part of interpreterand cavalier of honour as it is you, moreover, whohave to drag me away from my native country, I haveto inform you that it is my intention to leave itas slowly as possible, and to contemplate it at myleisure before quitting it forever.”

And, indeed, the Princess desired to make a stay moreor less long in every town en route. If, onthe way, she noticed a convent of any importance,she at once asked to be taken thither, and, in defaultof other pastime or pretext, she requested them tosay complines with full choral accompaniment.

If she saw some castle or other, she inquired thename of its owner, and, though she hardly knew theinmates, was wont to invite herself to dinner andsupper.

The Bishop of Beziers grew disconsolate. Hewrote letters to the Court, which he sent by specialcourier, and I said to the King, “Pray, Sire,let her do as she likes; she will surely have timeenough to look at her husband later on.”

Near Saint Fargeau, when the Princess heard that thisestate was her sister’s, Mademoiselle sent agentleman with her compliments, to ask if she wouldgive her shelter for twenty-four hours. Insteadof twenty-four hours’ stay, she proceeded totake up her abode there; and, provided with a gunand dogs, she wandered all over the fields, alwaysaccompanied by the worthy Bishop, at whose utter exhaustionshe was highly amused.

At length she left her native land, and joined herhusband, who seemed somewhat sulky at all this delay.

“I cannot love you just yet,” quoth she,weeping; “my heart is still another’s,and it is impossible to break off such attachmentswithout much time and much pain. Pray treatme with gentleness, for if you are severe, I shallnot do you any harm, but I shall go back to the Luxembourgto my mother.”

CHAPTER XXV.

Random Recollections.—­Madame de MontespanWithdraws from Politics.—­The Queen’sDowry.—­First Campaign in Flanders.—­TheQueen Meets the King.—­Some One Else SeesHim First.—­The Queen’s Anger at LaValliere.

In compiling these Memoirs, I have never pretendedto keep a strictly regular diary, where events areset down chronologically and in their proper order. I write as I recollect; some of my recollections arechronicled sooner, and others later. Thus ithappens that the King’s first conquests areonly now mentioned in the present chapter, althoughthey occurred in the year 1667, at the beginning ofmy credit and my favour.

I was naturally inclined for politics, and shouldhave liked the hazard of the game; but I suppose thatthe King considered me more frivolous and giddy thanI really was, for, despite the strong friendship withwhich he has honoured me, he has never been graciousenough to initiate me into the secrets of the Cabinetand the State.

If this sort of exclusion or ostracism served to woundmy self-respect, it nevertheless had its special advantagefor me, for in epochs less glorious or less brilliant(that is to say, in times of failure), they couldnever cavil at advice or counsel which I had given,nor blame me for the shortcomings of my proteges orcreatures.

The King was born ambitious. This prince willnot admit it; he gives a thousand reasons in justificationof his conquests. But the desire for conquestproves him to be a conqueror, and one is not a conquerorwithout being ambitious. I think I can explainmyself by mentioning the treaty drawn up at the timeof his marriage. It was stipulated that the Infantashould have rights over the Netherlands, then possessedby Don Balthazar, Prince of Spain. But it wasagreed to give the Princess Maria Theresa a handsomedowry, in lieu of which she signed a paper renouncingher rights.

Her father, King Philip IV., died at the close ofthe year 1665, and the Queen-mother besought our Kingnot to take advantage of the minority of the youngCharles II., his brother-in-law, by troubling Spainafresh with his pretensions.

Hardly had Anne of Austria been interred, when theKing informed the Spanish Court of his claims. In the spring of the following year, he himself ledan army into Spanish Flanders, where his appearancewas not expected. These fine provinces, badlyprovisioned and badly fortified, made but a merelyformal resistance to Conde, Turenne, Crequi, and allour illustrious generals, who, led by the King in person,wrought the troops to a wild pitch of enthusiasm.

The King had left the Infanta, his wife, at Compiegne,and it was there that we awaited either news of thearmy or orders to advance.

From Compiegne we went to La Fere, where we heardthat the King was coming to receive us. Suddenlyit was rumoured that the duch*esse de la Valliere hadjust arrived, and that she was acting in accordancewith orders received.

The Queen began to weep, and, sobbing, bewailed herdestiny. She was seized by convulsions and violentretching, much to the alarm of her ladies and thephysicians.

Next day, after mass, the duch*esse and the Marquisede la Valliere came to make their courtesy to theQueen, who, staring at them, said not a word. When dinner-time came, she gave orders that no foodshould be served to them, but the officials suppliedthis to them in secret, fearing to be compromised.

In the coach, the Queen complained greatly of Mademoisellede la Valliere, and the Princesse de Bade, one ofthe ladies-in-waiting, said to me, “Could youhave believed that, with such gentleness, one couldalso display such impudence?” The duch*esse deMontausier, I know not why, expressed herself to mein the same terms of amazement. I replied that,“Were I in that fair lady’s place, I shoulddare to show myself least of all to the Queen, forfear of grieving her Majesty.” I was oftenrebuked afterwards for this speech, which, I admit,I delivered somewhat thoughtlessly.

On leaving La Fere, the Queen gave particular ordersto let the duch*ess have no relays, so that she couldnot follow; but the Master of the Horse had causedthese to be brought to her from Versailles, so nothingwas wanting.

On putting my head out of window, when we turned acorner of the road, I saw that La Valliere’scoach, with six horses, was following quite closebehind; but I took care not to tell the Queen, whobelieved those ladies were a long way off.

All at once, on a height, we saw a body of horsem*napproaching. The King could be plainly distinguished,riding at their head. La Valliere’s coachimmediately left the main road, and drove across country,while the Queen called out to have it stopped; butthe King embraced its occupants, and then it droveoff at a gallop to a chateau already fixed upon forits reception.

I like to be just, and it is my duty to be so. This mark of irreverence towards the Queen is theonly one for which Mademoiselle de la Valliere canbe blamed; but she would never have done such a thingof her own accord; it was all the fault of the Marquise,blinded as she was by ambition.

CHAPTER XXVI.

The King Contemplates the Conquest of Holland.—­TheGrand Seignior’s
Embassy.—­Madame de Montespan’s Chanceof Becoming First Lady of the
Harem.—­Anxiety to Conclude Negotiationswith so Passionate an
Ambassador.—­Help Sent to Candia.—­WithDisastrous Results.—­Death of the
Duc de Beaufort.—­Why It Is Good to CarryAbout the Picture of One’s
Lady-love.

Having gained possession of the Netherlands in thename of the Infanta, his consort, the King seriouslycontemplated the subjugation of the Dutch, and possiblyalso the invasion of these rich countries. Meanwhile,he privately intimated as much to the princes of Europe,promising to each of them some personal and particularadvantage in exchange for a guarantee of assistanceor neutrality in this matter.

The Grand Seignior, hearing that the Pope and theVenetians were urging our Cabinet to come to the helpof Candia,

[This important island of Candia, the last powerfulbulwark of Christendom against the Turk, belongedat that time to Venice. Editor’s note.]

lost no time in sending a splendid embassy to Paris,to congratulate the young King upon his conquest ofFlanders, and to predict for him all success in thepaths along which ambition might lead him.

Being naturally fond of show and display, the Kingleft nothing undone which might give brilliance tothe reception of so renowned an embassy. TheCourt wore an air of such splendour and magnificencethat these Mussulmans, used though they were to Asiaticpomp, seemed surprised and amazed at so brillianta reception, at which nothing, indeed, had been forgotten.

The ambassador-in-chief was a pleasant young man,tall, shapely, and almost as good-looking as the King. This Turk had splendidly shaped hands, and eyes thatshone with extraordinary brilliance. He conceivedan ardent passion for me, a passion that went to suchlengths that he sacrificed thereto all his gravity,all his stately Ottoman demeanour.

When I passed by, he saluted me, placing his handto his heart, stopping to gaze at me intently, andwatch me as long as possible. Being introduced(either by chance or design) to my Paris jeweller,he seized a gold box upon which he saw my portrait,and, giving the jeweller a considerable sum, refusedto part with the picture, however much they beggedhim to do so.

One fine morning, in spite of his turban, he got intothe large chapel of the chateau during mass, and whilethe Court of France was adoring the true God, Ibrahimknelt down in front of me, which made every one laugh,including the King.

All such absurdities caused the ministers to givehim the required reply with all speed, and they werenot backward in granting him a farewell audience.

When the time came for him to go, Ibrahim burst intotears, exclaiming that, in his country, I should bein the first rank, whereas at Saint Germain I wasonly in the second; and he charged his interpreterto tell the King of France that the unhappy Ibrahimwould never get over this visit to his Court.

The King replied, with a smile, that he had “betterbecome a Christian, and stay with us.”

At these words the ambassador turned pale, and glancingdownwards, withdrew, forgetting to salute his Majesty.

Then he returned, and made all his bows quite nicely;nor would he quit the capital before he had sent mehis portrait, some pretty verses in Italian, whichhe had caused to be composed, and besides this, a setof amber ornaments, the most beautiful of any wornby ladies of the harem.

Despite this imposing and costly embassy, despitethe ambassador’s compliment, who referred tothe King as “Eldest Son of the Sun,” thissame Son of the Sun despatched seven thousand pickedtroops to help Venice against the Turks. Tothis detachment the Venetian Republic sent fourteenvessels laden with their own soldiers, under the leadershipof our Duc de Beaufort, Grand Admiral of France, andLieutenant-General Duc de Navailles.

Had these troops arrived in the nick of time, theywould have saved Candia, but by a sudden accidentall was lost, and after so terrible a reverse, theIsle of Candia, wrested from the potentates of Europeand Christendom, fell a prey to the infidels.

A pistol-shot fired at a Turk blew up several barrelsof gunpowder belonging to a large magazine capturedfrom the enemy. Our troops, thinking that amine had been sprung, fled in headlong confusion, nevereven caring to save their muskets. The Turksbutchered them in the most frightful manner. In this huge massacre, some of our most promisingofficers perished, and the Duc de Beaufort was neverfound either among the wounded or the slain.

The young Comte de Guiche, of whom I shall presentlyspeak, had his hand smashed, and if on his breasthe had not worn a portrait of Madame,—­[Theill-fated duch*esse d’Orleans.]—­thesword of a Turk would have struck him to the heart.

The King felt sorry that he had only despatched seventhousand men thither. But when M. de Louvoisinformed him that the whole detachment had been almostannihilated, he regretted having sent so many.

CHAPTER XXVII.

Danger of Harbouring a Malcontent.—­TheKing’s Policy with Regard to Lorraine.—­Adviceof Madame de Thianges.—­Conquest of Lorraine.—­TheLorraines Surrender to the Emperor.

The petty princes placed too near a great potentateare just like the shrubs that grow beside an old oaktree, whose broad shade blights them, while its rootsundermine and sap them, till at last they are weakenedand destroyed.

When young Gaston, son of Henri IV., seeking to getfree from Richelieu’s insolent despotism, withdrewto the Duc de Lorraine, the Cardinal uttered a cryof joy, and remarked to Louis XIII., that vindictive,jealous prince, “Oh, what a good turn the Ducd’Orleans has just done you to-day! Bygoing to stay with M. de Lorraine, he will oust him!”

The Court soon got to know that M. de Lorraine hadgiven Monsieur a most cordial reception, and thatthe latter, who, like his father, was very susceptible,had proposed for the hand of the Princesse Marguerite,a charming person, and sister to the reigning Duke.

King Louis XIII. openly opposed this marriage, whichnevertheless was arranged for, and celebrated partlyat Nancy and partly at Luneville.

Such complacence earned for M. de Lorraine the indignationof the King and his minister, the Cardinal. They waged against him a war of revenge, or ratherof spoliation, and as the prince, being unable thento offer any serious resistance, was sensible enoughto surrender, he got off with the sacrifice of certainportions of his territory. He also had to witnessthe demolition by France of the fine fortificationsof Nancy.

Things were at this juncture when our young King assumedthe management of affairs. The policy pursuedby Louis XIII. and his Cardinal seemed to him an advantageousone, also; he lured to his capital M. de Lorraine,who was still young and a widower, and by every conceivablepretext he was prevented from marrying again. Lorraine had a nephew,—­[Prince Charles.]—­ayoung man of great promise, to whom the uncle thereand then offered to make over all his property andrights, if the King would honour him with his protectionand marry him to whomsoever he fancied. The Kingwould not consent to a marriage of any kind, havinga firm, persistent desire in this way to make theline of these two princes extinct.

I was talking about this one day in the King’schamber, when my sister De Thianges had the hardihoodto say:

“I hear that the Messieurs de Lorraine are aboutto take their departure, and that, having lost allhope of making themselves beloved, they have resolvedto make themselves feared.”

The King looked impassively at my sister, showingnot a sign of emotion, and he said to her:

“Do you visit there?”

“Sire,” replied Madame de Thianges, unabashed,“augment the number, not of your enemies, butof your friends; of all policies that is the best.”The King never said a word.

Soon afterwards, the Lorraines appealed secretly tothe Empire and the Emperor. The King was onlywaiting for such an opportunity; he forthwith sentMarshal de Crequi at the head of twenty thousand men,who invaded Lorraine, which had already been ravaged,and the Duchy of Bar, which had not.

The manifesto stated the motives for such complaint,alleging that the Duke had not been at the pains toobserve the Treaty of Metz with regard to the surrenderof Harsal, and, as a punishment, his entire sovereigntywould be confiscated.

A large army then marched upon Peronne; it had beenformed at Saint Germain, and was divided into twocolumns. The first went to join the Duc de Crequi,who occupied Lorraine; the other took up its positionnear Sedan, to keep the Flemish and Dutch in checkin case of any attempted rebellion.

The Lorraines, in despair, gave themselves up to theEmperor, who, aware of their fine soldierly qualities,bestowed upon both high posts of command. Theycaused great losses to France and keen anxiety to herKing.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Embassy of the King of Arda.—­PoliticalInfluence Exercised by the Good
Looks of Madame de Montespan.—­Gifts ofthe Envoys.—­What the Comte de
Vegin Takes for a Horse.—­Madame de MontespanEntertains Them in Her Own
House.—­Three Missionaries Recommend Herto Them.

From the wilds of Africa, the King of Arda sent anembassy no less brilliant and far more singular thanthat of the Turks. This African prince, hearingof the French King’s noble character and of hisrecent conquests, proposed to form with him a politicaland commercial alliance, and sought his support againstthe English and the Dutch, his near neighbours.

The King said to me; “Madame, I believe Ibrahimhas proclaimed your charms even to the Africans; youbring embassies to me from the other end of the globe. For Heaven’s sake, don’t show yourself,or these new envoys will utterly lose their heads,too.”

The envoys referred to were notable for their rich,semibarbaric dress, but not one of them was like Ibrahim. They brought the King a present, in the shape ofa tiger, a panther, and two splendid lions. Tothe Queen they gave a sort of pheasant covered withgold and blue feathers, which burst out laughing whilelooking intensely grave, to the great diversion ofevery one. They also brought to the princessa little blackamoor, extremely well-made, who couldnever grow any bigger, and of which she, unfortunately,grew very fond.—­[Later on the writer explainsherself more fully.—­Editor’snote.]

These Africans also came in ceremonious fashion topresent their respects to me. They greeted meas the “second spouse of the King” (whichgreatly offended the Queen), and in the name of theKing of Arda, they presented me with a necklace oflarge pearls, and two bracelets of priceless value,—­splendidOriental sapphires, the finest in the world.

I gave orders for my children to be brought to them. On seeing these, they prostrated themselves. The little Comte de Vein, profiting by their attitude,began to ride pick-a-back on one of them, who did notseem offended at this, but carried the child aboutfor a little while.

The ceremony of their presentation will, doubtless,have been described in various other books; but Icannot forbear mentioning one incident. As soonas the curtains of the throne were drawn aside, andthey saw the King wearing all his decorations andablaze with jewels, they put their hands up to theireyes, pretending to be dazzled by the splendour ofhis presence, and then they flung themselves downat full length upon the ground, the better to expresstheir adoration.

I invited them to visit me at the Chateau de Clagny,my favourite country-seat, and there I caused a sumptuouscollation to be served to them in accordance withtheir tastes. Plain roast meat they ate withavidity; other dishes seemed to inspire them with distrust,—­theylooked closely at them, and then went off to somethingelse.

I do not interfere in affairs of State, but I wantedto know from what source in so remote a country theycould have obtained any positive information as tothe secrets of the Court of France. Through theinterpreter, they replied that three travellers—­missionaries—­hadstayed for a couple of months with their master, theKing of Arda, and the good fathers had told them “thatMadame de Montespan was the second spouse of the greatKing.” These same missionaries had chosenthe sort of presents which they were to give me.

CHAPTER XXIX.

Comte de Vegin, Abbe of Saint Germain des Pres.—­RevenuesRequired, but Not the Cowl.—­Discussionbetween the King and the Marquise.—­MadameScarron Chosen as Arbiter.—­An UnanswerableArgument.

The wealthy abbey of Saint Germain des Pres—­[Yieldinga revenue of five hundred thousand livres.]—­wasvacant; the King appointed thereto his son, the Comtede Vegin, and as the Benedictine monks secretly complainedthat they should have given to them as chief a childalmost still in its cradle, the King instructed thegrand almoner to remind them that they had had asabbes in preceding reigns princes who were marriedand of warlike tastes. “Such abuses,”said the prelate, “were more than reprehensible;his Majesty is incapable of wishing to renew them.As to the Prince’s extreme youth, that is inno way prejudicial to you, my brethren, as monseigneurwill be suitably represented by his vicar-generaluntil such time as he is able to assume the governorshiphimself.”

“Is it your intention to condemn my son to bean ecclesiastic?” I asked the King, in amazement.

“Madame, these are my views,” he answered:“If the Comte de Vegin as he grows up shouldcontinue to show pluck and a taste for things military,as by birth he is bound to do, we will relieve himof the abbey on the eve of his marriage, while hewill have profited thereby up to that time. If,on the contrary, my son should show but inferior mentalcapacity, and a pusillanimous character, there willbe no harm in his remaining among the Church folk;he will be far better off there than elsewhere. The essential thing for a parent is to study carefullyand in good time the proper vocation for his children;the essential thing for the ruler of an Empire isto employ the right people to do the work in hand.”

“Will my son, on receiving this abbey, haveto wear the dress of his office?” I asked. “Imagine the Comte de Vegin an abbe!”

“Do not feel the slightest repugnance on thatscore,” added the King. “The Electorsof the German Empire are nearly all of them ecclesiastics;our own history of France will show you that the sonsof kings were bishops or mere abbes; the grandsonof the Duc de Savoie is a cardinal and an archbishop,and King Charles X., my grandfather’s paternaluncle, nearly became King of France and cardinal atone and the same time.”

At this moment Madame Scarron came in. “Madame,we will make you our judge in the argument that weare now having,” said his Majesty. “Doyou think there is any objection to our giving tolittle Vegin the dress of an abbe?”

“On the contrary, Sire,” replied the governess,smiling, “such a dress will inspire him betimeswith reserve and modesty, strengthening his principles,and making far more profitable to him the excellenteducation which he is now receiving.”

“I am obliged to you for your opinion,”said the King, “and I flatter myself, madame,that you see things in the same light that I do.”

When the King had gone, Madame Scarron asked me whyI disapproved of this abbey.

“I do not wish to deny so rich a benefice tomy son,” I replied, “but it seems to methat he might enjoy the revenues therefrom, withoutbeing obliged to wear the livery. Is not theKing powerful enough to effect this?”

“You are hardly just, madame,” repliedthe governess, in a serious tone. “If ourreligion be a true one, God himself is at the headof it, and for so supreme a Chief the sons of kingsare but of small account.”

With an argument such as this she closed my mouth,leaving me quite amazed, and next day she smiled withdelight when she presented the little Comte de Vegindressed as a little abbe.

She was careful to see that the crozier, mitre, andcross were painted on the panels of his carriage,and let the post of vicar-general be given to oneof her pious friends who was presented to me.

CHAPTER XXX.

Once a Queen, Always a Queen.—­An AnonymousLetter.—­The Queen’s Confidence.—­SheHas a Sermon Preached against Madame de Montespan.—­Whothe Preacher was.—­One Scandal May AvertAnother.

I related how, near La Fere, at the time of the Flanderscampaign, Madame de la Valliere’s coach, atthe risk of offending the Queen, left the main roadand took a short cut across country, so as to get onahead, and arrive before anybody else. By thisthe duch*ess thought to give her royal friend a greatmark of her attachment. On the contrary, it wasthe first cause for that coolness which the King afterwardsdisplayed.

“Fain would he be beloved, yet loved with tact.”

The very next day his Majesty, prevailed upon La Valliereto say that such a style of travelling was too fatiguingfor her. She had the honour of dining with theQueen, and then she returned to the little chateauof Versailles, so as to be near her children.

The King arranged with Madame de Montausier, lady-in-waitingto the Queen, that I should use her rooms to dressand write in, and that his Majesty should be freeto come there when he liked, and have a quiet chatwith me about matters of interest.

The Queen, whom I had managed to please by my amusingtalk, always kept me close to her side, both whentaking long walks or playing cards. At a givensignal, a knock overhead, I used to leave the Queen,excusing myself on the score of a headache, or arrearsof correspondence; in short, I managed to get awayas best I could.

The King left us in order to capture Douai, then Tournay,and finally the whole of Flanders; while the Queencontinued to show me every sign of her sincere andtrustful friendship.

In August, on the Day of Our Lady, while the Kingwas besieging Lille, a letter came to the Queen, informingher that her husband had forsaken Madame de la Vallierefor her Majesty’s lady-in-waiting, the Marquisede Montespan. Moreover, the anonymous missivenamed “the prudent duch*esse de Montausier”as confidante and accomplice.

“It is horrible—­it is infamous!”cried the Queen, as she flung aside the letter. “I shall never be persuaded that such is thecase. My dear little Montespan enjoys my friendshipand my esteem; others are jealous of her, but theyshall not succeed. Perhaps the King may knowthe handwriting; he shall see it at once!” And that same evening she forwarded the letter tohim.

The Comte de Vegin had been born, and the Queen wasabsolutely ignorant of his existence. My pregnancywith the Duc du Maine had likewise escaped her notice,owing to the large paniers which I took to wearing,and thus made the fashion. But the Court is aplace where the best of friends are traitors. The Queen was at length convinced, after long refusingto be so, and from that day forward she cordially detestedme.

While the King was conquering Holland, she instructedher chief almoner to have a sermon of a scandaloussort to be preached, which, delivered with all duesolemnity in her presence, should grieve and woundme as much as possible.

On the day appointed, a preacher, totally unknownto us, gets into the pulpit, makes a long prayer forthe guidance of the Holy Ghost, and then, rising gracefully,bows low to the Queen. Raising his eyes to heaven,he makes the sign of the cross and gives out the followingtext: “Woman, arise and sin no more. Go hence; I forgive thee.”

As he uttered these words, he looked hard at my pew,and soon made me understand by his egordium how interestinghis discourse would be to me. Written with raregrace of style, it was merely a piece of satire frombeginning to end,—­of satire so audaciousthat it was constantly levelled at the King.

The orator brought before us in succession lifelikeportraits of the Queen, of her august spouse, of mychildren, of M. de Montespan, and of myself. Upon some he lavished praise; others he vehementlyrebuked; while to others he gave tender pity. Anon he caused the lips of his hearers to curl inirony, and again, roused their indignation or touchedthem to tears.

Any one else would have been bored by such a rigmarole;it rather amused me.

That evening, and for a week afterwards, nothing elsebut this sermon was talked of at Versailles. The Queen had received complete satisfaction.Before me she was at pains not to laugh, and I waspleased to see that her resentment had almost disappeared.

Upon his return, the King was for punishing such anoffence as this. Things are not easily hiddenfrom him; his Majesty desired to know the name andrank of the ecclesiastic. The entire Court repliedthat he was a good-looking young Franciscan.

The chief almoner, being forced to state the monasteryfrom which the preacher came, mentioned the Cordeliersof Paris. There it transpired that the monktold off by the prior for this enterprise had beentoo frightened to execute it, and had sent, as hisdeputy, a young actor from Orleans,—­a brotherof his, who thus could not say no.

So, as it happened, Queen Maria Theresa and her chiefalmoner (an exemplary person) had caused virtue tobe preached to me by a young play-actor! TheKing dared not take further proceedings in so strangea matter, for fear lest one scandal might beget afar greater one. It was this that caused MadameCornuel to remark, “The pulpit is in want ofcomedians; they work wonders there!”

CHAPTER XXXI.

The King Alters His Opinion about Madame Scarron.—­HeWants Her to Assume Another Name.—­He GivesHer the Maintenon Estates.—­She and Madamede Montespan Visit These.—­A Strange Story.

At first the King used to feel afraid of Madame Scarron,and seemingly laughed at me when I endeavoured topersuade him that there was nothing affected or singularabout her. The Marquis de Beringhen, for somereason or other, had prejudiced his Majesty againsther, so that very often, when the King heard thatshe was visiting me, he never got beyond the vestibule,but at once withdrew. One day she was tellingme, in her pleasant, original way, a funny tale aboutthe famous Brancas, and I laughed till I cried again,—­infact, until I nearly made myself quite ill.

The King, who was listening at the door, was greatlytickled by the story. He came in smiling andthoroughly self-possessed. Then, addressingthe governess, he said, “Madame, allow me tocompliment you and to thank you at the same time. I thought you were of a serious, melancholy disposition,but as I listened to you through the keyhole, I amno longer surprised that you have such long talks withthe Marquise. Will you do me the favour of beingas amusing some other time, if I venture to make oneof the party?”

The governess, courtesying, blushed somewhat; andthe King continued, “Madame, I am aware of youraffection for my children; that is a great recommendationto me; banish all restraint; I take the greatest pleasurein your company.”

She replied, “It was the fear of displeasingyou which, despite myself, caused me to incur yourdispleasure.”

The King continued, “Madame, I know that thelate M. de Scarron was a man of much wit and alsoof agreeable manners. My cousin, De Beaufort,used to rave about him, but on account of his somewhatfree poems, his name lacks weight and dignity. In fact, his name in no way fits so charming a personalityas yours; would it grieve you to change it?”

The governess cleverly replied that all that she owedto the memory of her defunct husband was gratitudeand esteem.

“Allow me, then, to arrange matters,”added the King. “I am fond of sonorousnames; in this I agree with Boileau.”

A few days afterwards we heard that the splendid Maintenonestates were for sale. The King himself cameto inform the widow of this, and, giving her in advancethe fee for education, he counted out a hundred thousandcrowns wherewith instantly to purchase the property.

Forthwith the King compelled her to discard this trulyridiculous author’s name, and styled her beforeeverybody Madame de Maintenon.

I must do her the justice to state that her gratitudefor the King’s liberality was well-nigh exaggerated,while no change was perceptible in her manners andbearing. She had, naturally, a grand, dignifiedair, which was in strange contrast to the grotesquebuffoonery of her poet-husband. Now she is exactlyin her proper place, representing to perfection thegoverness of a king’s children.

Spiteful persons were wont to say that I appearedjealous on seeing her made a marquise like myself. Good gracious, no! On the contrary, I was delighted;her parentage was well known to me. The duch*essede Navailles, my protectress, was a near relativeof hers, and M. d’Aubigne, her grandfather,was one of King Henri’s two Chief Gentlemen ofthe Chamber.

Madame de Maintenon’s father was, in many respects,greatly to blame. Without being actually dishonest,he squandered a good deal of his fortune, the greaterpart being pounced upon by his family; and had theKing forced these harpies to disgorge, Madame de Maintenoncould have lived in opulence, eclipsing several ofthe personages at Court.

I am glad to be able to do her justice in these Memoirs,to the satisfaction of my own self-respect. I look upon her as my own handiwork, and everythingassures me that this is her conviction also, and thatshe will always bear it in mind.

The King said to us, “Go and see the Chateaude Maintenon, and then you can tell me all about it. According to an old book, I find that it was builtin the reign of Henri II. by Nicolas de Cointerot,the King’s minister of finance; a ‘surintendant’s’castle ought to form a noteworthy feature of the landscape.”

Madame de Maintenon hereupon told us a most extraordinarystory. The lady who sold this marquisate hadretired two years previously to the island of Martinique,where she, at the present moment, owned the residenceof Constant d’Aubigne, the same house where thenew Marquise de Maintenon had spent her childhoodwith her parents, so that while one of these ladieshad quitted the Chateau de Maintenon in order to livein Martinique, the other had come from Martiniquein order to reside at the Chateau de Maintenon. Truly, the destinies of some are strange in thisworld.

The chateau appeared to be large, of solid proportions,and built in a grandly simple style, befitting a ministerof dignity and position. The governess shedtears of emotion when setting foot there for the firsttime. The six priests, whom the surintendanthad appointed, officiated in the large chapel or littlechurch attached to the castle.

They approached us in regular procession, presentingholy water, baskets of flowers and fruit, an old man,a child, and two little lambs to the Marquise. The villagers, dressed out with flowers and ribbons,also came to pay, their respects to her. Theydanced in the castle courtyard, under our balcony,to the sound of hautbois and bagpipes.

We gave them money, said pleasant things to everybody,and invited all the six clerics to sup with us. These gentry spoke with great respect of the otherMadame de Maintenon, who had become disgusted withher property, and with France generally, because,for two winters running, her orange-groves and fig-treeshad been frost-bitten. She herself, being amost chilly, person, never left off her furs untilAugust, and in order to avoid looking at or walkingupon snow and ice, she fled to the other end of theworld.

“The other extreme will bring her back to us,”observed Madame de Maintenon to the priests. “Though his Majesty were to give me Martiniqueor Saint Domingo, I certainly would never go and livethere myself.”

When we returned, all these little details greatlyamused the King. He, too, wanted to go and seethe castle of another Fouquet, but, as we complainedof the bad roads, he ordered these to be mended alongthe entire route.

CHAPTER XXXII.

The Second Comte de Vexin.—­He is made Abbeof Saint Denis.—­Priests or Devils?—­TheCoronation Diadem.—­Royalty Jokes with theMonks.

My poor little Comte de Vegin died. We all mournedfor him as he deserved; his pretty face would havemade every one love him; his extreme gentleness hadnothing of the savage warrior about it, but at anyrate, he was the best-looking cardinal in Christendom. He made such funny speeches that one could not helprecollecting them. He was more of a Mortemartthan a Bourbon, but that did not prevent the King fromidolising him.

The King thought of conferring the Abbey of SaintGermain des Pres upon his younger brother; to thisI was opposed, imagining, perhaps without reason,that such succession would bring bad luck. Sothe King presented him to the Abbey of Saint Denis,the revenue of which was equally considerable, andhe conferred upon him the title of Comte de Vexin,caring nothing for the remarks I made concerning thesimilarities of such names and distinctions.

The second Comte de Vegin bid fair to be a man ofreflection and of genius. He obviously dislikedhis little abbe’s dress, and we always keptsaying, “It’s only for the time being,my little fellow.”

When, after his nomination, the monks of Saint Deniscame to make their obeisance to him, he asked if theywere devils, and continually covered his face so asnot to see them.

The King arrived, and with a few flattering wordsmanaged to soothe the priests’ outraged dignity,and when they asked the little prince if he wouldhonour them by a visit of inspection to Suger’sroom,

[Suger was Abbe of Saint Denis, and a famous ministerof Queen Blanche. Editor’s Note.]

which had just been restored, he replied with a sulkysmile, “I’ll come and see you, but withmy eyes shut.”

Then the priests mildly remonstrated because the coronationdiadem had not been brought back to their store oftreasures, but was still missing.

“So, in your treasure-house at Saint Denis youkeep all the crowns of all the reigns?” askedthe prince.

“Yes, Sire, and where could they be better guardedthan with us? Who has most may have least.”

“With all their rubies, diamonds, sapphires,and emeralds?”

“Yes, Sire; and hence the name treasure.”

The King replied, “If this be the case, I willsend you my coronation crown. At that time mybrow was not so big; you will find the crown small,I tell you.”

Then one of the monks, in the most serious manner,said, “It’s not as small as it was; yourMajesty has enlarged it a good deal.”

Madame de Maintenon burst out laughing, and I wasnot slow to follow her example; we saw that the Kingcould hardly maintain his gravity. He said tothe priest, “My father, you turn a pretty complimentin a most praiseworthy manner; you ought to have belongedto the Jesuits, not to the Benedictines.”

We burst out laughing anew, and this convent-deputation,the gloomiest-looking, most funereal one in the world,managed to cause us some diversion, after all.

To make amends for our apparent frivolity, his Majestyhimself took them to see his splendid cabinet of medalsand coins, and sent them back to their abbey in Courtcarriages.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

M. de Lauzun Proposes for the Hand of Mademoisellede Thianges.—­Letter from the Duc de Lorraine.—­Madamede Thianges Thinks that Her Daughter Has Married aReigning Prince.—­The King Disposes Otherwise.—­TheDuc de Nevers.

The brilliant Marquis de Lauzun, after paying courtto myself, suddenly, turned his attention to Mademoisellede Thianges,—­my sister’s child.If a fine figure and a handsome face, as well as thepolished manners of a great gentleman, constitutea good match, M. de Lauzun was, in all respects, worthyof my niece. But this presumptuous nobleman hadbut a slender fortune. Extravagant, withoutthe means to be so, his debts grew daily greater,and in society one talked of nothing but his lavishexpenditure and his creditors. I know that thepurses of forty women were at his disposal. I know, moreover, that he used to gamble like a prince,and I would never marry my waiting-maid to a gamblerand a rake.

Both Madame de Thianges and myself rejected his proposals,and though resolved to let him have continued proofsof our good-will, we were equally determined neverto accept such a man as son-in-law and nephew.

Hereupon the letter which I am about to transcribewas sent to me by a messenger:

Prince Charles de Lorraine tomadame la marquise de Montespan.

Madame:—­My unfortunate uncle and Ihave always loved France, but France has forced usboth to break off all relations with her and to becomeexiles!!! Despite the kindness and generositywherewith the Imperial Court seeks to comfort us inour misfortune, the perpetual cry of our hearts callsus back to our fatherland,—­to that matchlessland where my ancestors have ever been beloved.

My uncle is guilty of no crime but that of havingformerly received in his palace a son of good KingHenri IV., after his humiliation by a shameless minister. My dear uncle proposed to resign all his propertyin my favour, and to meet the wishes of his Majestyas to the wife that should be mine.

When my uncle asked for the hand of Mademoiselle deMontpensier, on my behalf, my cousin replied thata ruined and dismantled throne did not augur wellfor a dowry, and she further remarked that we werenot on good terms with the King.

When I begged Cardinal Mazarin to grant me the handof the present Madame de Mazarin, his Eminence replied,“Would you like to be a cardinal? I canmanage that; but as regards my niece, the Queen isgoing to get her married immediately.”

When, before God and man, I wedded Mademoiselle deNemours, whose worthy mother led her to the altar,his Majesty refused to sign the marriage contract,and told Madame de Nemours that it would never be consideredvalid.

Soon afterwards the Bishop of Laon, who has completeinfluence over Madame de Vendome, declared as nulland void—­a marriage negotiated and consecratedby himself, and thus a bond made in heaven has beenbroken on earth.

Such treatment as this, I confess, seemed to us toexceed the bounds of humanity and of justice. My uncle and I quitted France,—­the Francethat persecutes and harasses us, that desires thedestruction of our family and the forcible union ofour territory with her own.

The late Queen, of illustrious and glorious memory,disapproved of Richelieu’s injustice towardsus. Under the ministry of the Cardinal, hissuccessor, she often, in noble fashion, held out tous a helping hand. How comes it that the King,who in face is her living image, does not desire tobe like her in heart?

I address myself to you, madame, who by your beautyand Spiritual charm hold such imperious sway overhis decisions, and I implore you to undertake ourdefence. My uncle and I, his rightful and duteousheir, offer the King devoted homage and unswervingfealty. We offer to forget the past, to putour hearts and our swords at his service. Lethim withdraw his troops and those standards of histhat have brought terror and grief to our unhappyLorraine. I offer to marry Mademoiselle de Thianges,your beautiful and charming niece, and to make herhappy, and to surrender all any estates to the Kingof France, if I die without male issue or heirs ofany sort.

I know your kind-heartedness, madame, by a niece whois your picture. In your hands I place her interestsand my fate. I await your message with impatience,and I shall receive it with courage if you fail toobtain that which you ought to obtain.

Be assured, madame, of my unbounded admiration andrespect.

CHARLES

I at once went to my house at Clagny, whither I privatelysummoned Madame de Thianges. On reading thisletter, my sister was moved to tears, for she hadalways deeply felt how unjustly this family had beentreated. She was also personally attached tothis same Prince Charles, whom to see was to love.

We read this letter through thrice, and each timewe found it more admirable; the embarrassing thingwas how to dare to let his Majesty know its contents. However temperate the allusions to himself, therewas still the reproach of injustice and barbarity,set against the clemency of Anne of Austria, and hergenerous compassion.

My sister said to me, “Go boldly to work inthe matter. Despite your three children, theKing leaves you merely a marquise; and for my ownpart, if my daughter becomes duch*esse do Lorraine,I promise you the Principality of Vaudemont.”

“It is quite true,” I replied; “hisconduct is inexplicable. To Madame Scarron,who was only the governess of his children, he givesone of the first marquisates of France, while to me,who have borne these three children (with infinitepain), I admit he has only given some jewelry, somemoney, and this pretty castle of Clagny.”

“You are as clever as can be, my dear Athenais,”said Madame de Thianges, “but, as a matter offact, your cleverness is not of a business kind.You don’t look after yourself, but let yourselfbe neglected; you don’t push yourself forwardenough, nor stand upon your dignity as you ought todo.

“The little lame woman had hardly been broughtto bed of Mademoiselle de Blois, when she was madeduch*esse de Vaujours and de la Valliere.

“Gabrielle d’Estrees, directly she appeared,was proclaimed duch*esse de Beaufort.

“Diane de Poitiers was duch*esse de Valentinoisand a princess. It’s only you who arenobody, and your relations also are about the same! Make the most of this grand opportunity; help thePrince of Lorraine, and the Prince of Lorraine willhelp you.”

On our return from the chateau, while our resolutionwas yet firm, we went laughing to the King. He asked the reason of our gaiety. My sistersaid with her wonted ease, “Sire, I have cometo invite you to my daughter’s wedding.”

“Your daughter? Don’t you thinkI am able to get her properly married?” criedthe King.

“Sire, you cannot do it better than I can myself. I am giving her a sovereign as husband, a sovereignin every sense of the term.”

It seemed to me the King flushed slightly as he rejoined,“A sovereign on his feet, or a sovereign overthrown?”

“How do you mean, Sire?” said my sister.

“Madame de Thianges,” replied the King,“pray, let us be friends. I was informedtwo days ago of the proposals of the Messieurs de Lorraine;it is not, yet time to give them a definite reply. It behoves, me to give your daughter in marriage,and I have destined her for the Duc de Nevers, whois wealthy, and my friend.”

“The Duc de Nevers!” cried my sister;“why, he’s cracked for six months in theyear.”

“Those who are cracked for a whole twelvemonthdeserve far more pity,” replied the King.

Then, turning to me, he observed, “You makeno remark, madame? Does your niece’s coronationprovide you also with illusions?”

I easily perceived that we had been cherishing anutterly fantastic scheme, and I counselled Madamede Thianges to prefer to please the King; and, asshe was never able to control her feelings, she sharplyreplied, “Madame la Marquise, good day or goodnight!”

The King, however, did not relax his persistence ingiving us the Duc de Nevers as son-in-law and nephew;and as this young gentleman’s one fault is torequire perpetual amusem*nt, partly derived from poetryand partly from incessant travelling, my niece isas happy with him as a woman who takes her husband’splace well can be. As soon as he gets to Paris,he wants to return to Rome, and hardly has he reachedRome, when he has the horses put to for Paris.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Mademoiselle de Mortemart, Abbess of Fontevrault.—­SheComes to Court.—­The Cloister.—­HerSuccess at Court.—­Her Opinion RespectingMadame de Montespan’s Intimacy with the King.

My second sister, Mademoiselle de Mortemart, was sounfortunate as to fall in love with a young Knightof Malta, doomed from his birth and by his familyto celibacy. Having set out upon his caravans,—­[Sea-fightsagainst the Turks and the pirates of the Mediterranean.]—­hewas killed in combat by the Algerians.

Such was Mademoiselle de Mortemart’s grief thatlife became unbearable to her. Beautiful, witty,and accomplished, she quitted the world where shewas beloved, and, at the, age of seventeen, took theveil at Fontevrault.

So severely had she blamed the conduct of Mademoisellede la Valliere, while often vehemently denouncingthat which she termed the disorder at Court, that,since the birth of the Duc du Maine, I had not goneto the convent to see her. We were like untopersons both most anxious to break off an intimacyand yet who had not done so.

The Duc de Lorraine was known to her. He wroteto her, begging her to make it up with me, so as tofurther his own ends. To gratify him, and mainlybecause of her attachment to Prince Charles, my sisteractually wrote to me, asking for my intervention andwhat she termed my support.

Nuns always profess to be, and think that they are,cut off from the world. But the fact is, theycare far more for mundane grandeur than we do. Madame de Thianges and her sister would have giventheir very heart’s blood to see my niece thebride of a royal prince.

One day the King said to me, “The Marquise deThianges complains that I have as yet done nothingfor your family; there is a wealthy abbey that hasjust become vacant; I am going to give it to your sister,the nun; since last night she is the Abbess of Fontevrault.”

I thanked the King, as it behoved me to do, and headded, “Your brother shall be made a duke atonce. I am going to appoint him general of RoyalGalleys, and after one or two campaigns he will havea marshal’s baton.”

“And what about me, Sire?” said I. “What, may it please your Majesty, shall Iget from the distribution of all these favours andemoluments?” I laughingly asked the question.

“You, madame?” he replied. “Toyou I made a present of my heart, which is not altogetherworthless; yet, as it is possible that, when this heartshall have ceased to beat, you may have to maintainyour rank, I will give you the charming retreat ofPetit-Bourg, near Fontainebleau.”

Saying this, his face wore a sad look, and I was sorrythat I asked him for anything. He is fond ofgiving, and of giving generously, but of his own accord,without the least prompting. Had I refrainedfrom committing this indiscretion, he might, possibly,have made me a duch*ess there and then, renaming Petit-BourgRoyal-Bourg.

The new abbess of Fontevrault, caring less now forclaustral seclusion, equipped her new residence invery sumptuous style. In a splendid carriageshe came to thank the King and kiss hands. Withmuch tact and dignity she encountered the scrutinyof the royal family and of the Court. Her mannersshowed her to have been a person brought up in thegreat world, and possessed of all the tact and delicacywhich her position as well as mine required.

As she embraced me, she sighed; yet, instantly recoveringherself, she made the excuse that so many ceremoniousgreetings and compliments had fatigued her.

It was not long before the King joined us, who said,“Madame, I never thought that there was muchamusem*nt to be got by wearing the veil. Now,you must admit that days in a convent seem very longto any one who has wit and intelligence.”

“Sire,” replied my sister, “thefirst fifteen or twenty months are wearisome, I readilyconfess. Then comes discouragement; after that,habit; and then one grows resigned to one’s fettersfrom the mere pleasure of existence.”

“Did you meet with any good friends among yourassociates?”

“In such assemblies,” rejoined the Abbess,“one can form no attachment or durable friendship. The reason for this is simple. If the companionyou choose is religious in all sincerity, she is perforcea slave to every little rule and regulation, and toher it would seem like defrauding the Deity to giveaffection to any one but to Him. If, by mischance,you meet with some one of sensitive temperament, witha bright intellect that matches your own, you layyourself open to be the mournful sharer of her griefs,doubts, and regrets, and her depression reacts uponyou; her sorrow makes your melancholy return. Privation conjures up countless illusions and everychimera imaginable, so that the peaceful retreat ofvirgins of the Lord becomes a veritable hell, peopledby phantoms that groan in torture!”

“Oh, madame!” exclaimed the King. “What a picture is this! What a spectacleyou present to our view!”

“Fortunately,” continued Mademoisellede Mortemart, “in convents girls of intelligenceare all too rare. The greater number of themare colourless persons, devoid of imagination or fire. To exiles like these, any country, any climate wouldseem good; to flaccid, crushed natures of this type,every belief would seem authoritative, every religionholy and divine. Fifteen hundred years ago thesenuns would have made excellent vestal virgins, watchfuland resigned. What they need is abstinence,prohibitions, thwartings, things contrary to nature. By conforming to most rigorous rules, they considerthemselves suffering beings who deserve heavy recompense;and the Carmelite or Trappist sister, who maceratesherself by the hair-shirt or the cilex, would lookupon God as a false or wicked Being, if, after suchcruel torment, He did not promptly open to her thegates of Paradise.

“Sire,” added the Abbess de Fontevrault,“I have three nuns in my convent who take theHoly Communion every other day, and whom my predecessorcould never bring herself to absolve for some old pieceof nonsense of twenty years back.”

“Do you think you will be able to manage them,madame?” asked the King, laughing.

“I am afraid not,” replied my sister. “Those are three whom one could never manage,and your Majesty on the throne may possibly have fewerdifficulties to deal with than the abbess or the priorof a convent.”

The King was obliged to quit us to go and see oneof the ministers, but he honoured the Abbess by tellingher that she was excellent company, of which he couldnever have too much.

My sister wished to see Madame de Maintenon and theDuc du Maine; so we visited that lady, who took agreat liking to the Abbess, which was reciprocated.

When my sister saw the young Duc du Maine, she exclaimed,“How handsome he is! Oh, sister, how fondI shall be of such a nephew!”

“Then,” said I, “you will forgiveme, won’t you, for having given birth to him?”

“When I reproached you,” she answered,“I had not yet seen the King. When onehas seen him, everything is excusable and everythingis right. Embrace me, my dear sister, and donot let us forget that I owe my abbey to you, as wellas my independence, fortune, and liberty.”

BOOK 3.

CHAPTER XXXV.

M. de Lauzun and Mademoiselle de Montpensier.—­Marriageof the One and
Passion of the Other.—­The King Settlesa Match.—­A Secret Union.—­The
King Sends M. de Lauzun to Pignerol.—­TheLife He Leads
There.—­Mademoiselle’s Liberality.—­StrangeWay of Acknowledging It.

They are forever talking about the coquetry of women;men also have their coquetry, but as they show lessgrace and finesse than we do, they do not get halfas much attention.

The Marquis de Lauzun, having one day, noticed a certainkindly feeling for him in the glances of Mademoiselle,endeavoured to seem to her every day more fascinatingand agreeable. The foolish Princess completelyfell into the snare, and suddenly giving up her airof noble indifference, which till then had made herlife happy, she fell madly in love with a schemerwho despised and detested her.

Held back for some months by her pride, as also bythe exigencies of etiquette, she only disclosed hersentimental passion by glances and a mutual exchangeof signs of approval; but at last she was tired ofself-restraint and martyrdom, and, detaining M. deLauzun one day in a recess, she placed her writtenoffer of marriage in his hand.

The cunning Marquis feigned astonishment, pretendinghumbly to renounce such honour, while increasing hiswiles and fascinations; he even went so far as toshed tears, his most difficult feat of all.

Mademoiselle de Montpensier, older than he by twelveor fourteen years, never suspected that such a disparityof years was visible in her face. When one hasbeen pretty, one imagines that one is still so, andwill forever remain so. Plastered up and powdered,consumed by passion, and above all, blinded by vanity,she fancied that Nature had to obey princes, and that,to favour her, Time would stay his flight.

Though tired and bored with everything, Lauzun, thebetter to excite her passion, put on timid, languidairs, like those of some lad fresh from school. Quitting the embraces of some other woman, he playedthe lonely, pensive, melancholy bachelor, the manabsorbed by this sweet, new mystery of love.

Having made mutual avowal of their passion, whichwas fill of esteem, Lauzun inquired, merely from motivesof caution, as to the Princess’s fortune; andshe did not fail to tell him everything, even abouther plate and jewels. Lauzun’s love greweven more ardent now, for she had at least forty millions,not counting her palace.

He asked if, by the marriage, he would become a prince,and she replied that she, herself, had not sufficientpower to do this; that she was most anxious to arrangethis, if she could; but anyhow, that she could makehim Duc de Montpensier, with a private uncontrolledincome of five hundred thousand livres.

He asked if, on the family coat-of-arms, the husband’scoronet was to figure, or the wife’s; but, asshe would not change her name, her arms, she decided,could remain as heretofore,—­the crown, thefleur-de-lis, and so forth.

He inquired if the children of the marriage wouldrank as princes, and she said that she saw nothingto prevent this. He also asked if he would beraised higher in the peerage, and might look to beingmade a prince at last, and styled Highness as soonas the contract had been signed.

This caused some doubt and reflection. “TheKing, my cousin,” said Mademoiselle, “issomewhat strict in matters of this sort. He seemsto think that the royal family is a new arch-saint,at whom one may look only when prostrate in adoration;all contract therewith is absolutely forbidden. I begin to feel uneasy about this; yes, Lauzun, Ihave fears for our love and marriage.”

“Are you, then, afraid?” asked Lauzun,quite crestfallen.

“I knew how to point the Bastille cannon atthe troops of the King,” she replied; “buthe was very young then. No matter, I will goand see him; if he is my King, I am his cousin; ifhe has his crotchets, I have my love and my will. He can’t do anything, my dear Lauzun; I loveyou as once he loved La Valliere, as to-day he lovesMontespan; I am not afraid of him. As for thepermission, I know our history by heart, and I willprove to him by a hundred examples that, from the timeof Charlemagne up to the present time, widows anddaughters of kings have married mere noblemen. These nobleman may have been most meritorious,—­Ionly know them from history,—­but not oneof them was as worthy as you.”

So saying, she asked for her fan, her gloves, andher horses, and attended by her grooms-in-waiting,she went to the King in person.

The King listened to her from beginning to end, andthen remarked, “You refused the Kings of Denmark,Portugal, Spain, and England, and you wish to marrymy captain of the guard, the Marquis de Lauzun?”

“Yes, Sire, for I place him above all monarchs,—­yourselfalone excepted.”

“Do you love him immensely?”

“More than I can possibly say; a thousand, ahundred thousand times more than myself.”

“Do you think he is equally devoted to you?”—­“Thatwould be impossible,” she tranquilly answered;“but his love for me is delicate, tender; andsuch friendship suffices me.”

“My cousin, in all that there is self-interest. I entreat you to reflect. The world, as youknow, is a mocking world; you want to excite universalderision and injure the respect which is due to theplace that I fill.”

“Ah, Sire, do not wound me! I fling myselfat your feet. Have compassion upon M. de Lauzun,and pity my tears. Do not exercise your power;let him be the consolation of my life; let me marryhim.”

The King, no longer able to hide his disgust and impatience,said, “Cousin, you are now a good forty-fouryears old; at that age you ought to be able to takecare of yourself. Spare me all your grievances,and do what pleases you.”

On leaving Mademoiselle, he came to my apartment andtold me about all this nonsense. I then informedhim of what I had heard by letter the day before. Lauzun, while still carrying on with the fastest ladiesof the Court and the town, had just wheedled the Princessinto making him a present of twenty millions,—­amost extravagant gift.

“This is too much!” exclaimed the King;and he at once caused a letter to be despatched toMademoiselle and her lover, telling them that theirintimacy must cease, and that things must go no farther.

But the audacious Lauzun found means to suborn a well-meaningsimpleton of a priest, who married them secretly thevery same day.

The King’s indignation and resentment may wellbe imagined. He had his captain of the guardarrested and sent as a prisoner to Pignerol.

On this occasion, M. de Lauzun complained bitterlyof me; he invented the most absurd tales about me,even saying that he had struck me in my own apartments,after taunting me to my face with “our old intimacy.”

That is false; he reproached me with nothing, forthere was nothing to reproach. Shortly afterthe Princess’s grand scene, he came and beggedme to intercede on his behalf. I only made asort of vague promise, and he knew well enough that,in the great world, a vague promise is the same asa refusal.

For more than six months I had to stanch the tearsand assuage the grief of Mademoiselle. So tiresometo me did this prove, that she alone well-nigh sufficedto make me quit the Court.

Such sorrowing and chagrin made her lose the littlebeauty that still remained to her; nothing seemedmore incongruous and ridiculous than to hear thiselderly grand lady talking perpetually about “herdearest darling, the prisoner.”

At the time I write he is at Pignerol; his bad dispositionis forever getting him into trouble. She sendshim lots of money unknown to the King, who generallyknows everything. All this money he squandersor gambles away, and when funds are low, says, “Theold lady will send us some.”

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Hyde, the Chancellor.—­Misfortune Not AlwaysMisfortune.—­Prince Comnenus.—­TheKing at Petit-Bourg.—­His Incognito.—­WhoM. de Vivonne Really Was.

The castle of Petit-Bourg, of which the King mademe a present, is situate on a height overlooking theSeine, whence one may get the loveliest of views. So pleasant did I find this charming abode, that Irepaired thither as often as possible, and stayed forfive or six days. One balmy summer night, I satin my dressing-gown at the central balcony, watchingthe stars, as was my wont, asking myself whether Ishould not be a thousand times happier if I shouldpass my life in a retreat like this, and so have timeto contemplate the glorious works of Nature, and toprepare myself for that separation which sooner orlater awaited me. Reason bade me encourage suchthoughts, yet my heart offered opposition thereto,urging that there was something terrifying in solitude,most of all here, amid vast fields and meadows, andthat, away from the Court and all my friends, I shouldgrow old, and death would take me before my, time. While plunged in such thoughts, I suddenly heard thesound of a tocsin, and scanning the horizon, I sawflames and smoke rising from some hamlet or country-house. I rang for my servants, and told them instantly todespatch horsem*n to the scene of the catastrophe,and bring back news.

The messengers started off, and soon came back tosay that the fire had broken out at the residenceof my lord Hyde, Chancellor of England, who was butlately convalescent. They had seen him lyingupon a rug on the grass, some little distance fromthe burning mansion. I forthwith ordered mycarriage to be sent for him, and charged my surgeonand secretary to invite him to take shelter at mycastle.

My lord gratefully accepted the invitation; he enteredmy room as the clock struck twelve. As yet hecould not tell the cause of the disaster, and in acalm, patriarchal manner observed, “I am a manmarked out for great misfortune. God forbid,madame, that the mischance which dogs my footstepstouch you also!”

“I cannot bear to see a fire,” said I,in reply to the English nobleman, “for somedreadful accident always results therefrom. Yet,on the whole, they are of good augury, and I am sure,my lord, that your health or your affairs will benefitby this accident.”

Hearing me talk thus, my lord smiled. He onlytook some slight refreshment,—­a littlesoup,—­and heard me give orders for all myavailable servants to be sent to the scene of disaster,in order to save all his furniture, and protect itas well.

After repeated expressions of his gratitude, he desiredto withdraw, and retired to rest. Next day welearnt that the fire had been got under about oneo’clock in the morning; one wing only of thechateau had been destroyed, and the library, togetherwith all the linen and plate, was well-nigh intact. Lord Hyde was very glad to hear the news. Theytold him that all the labourers living near had gladlycome to the help of his servants and mine. Ashis private cashbox had been saved, owing to theirvigilance and honesty, he promised to distribute itscontents among them when he returned.

Hardly had he got the words out, when they came totell me that, on the highroad, just in front of mygates, a carriage, bound for Paris, had the tracesbroken, and the travellers persons of distinction beggedthe favour of my hospitality for a short while. I consented with pleasure, and they went back totake the travellers my answer.

“You see, madame,” said the Chancellor,“my bad luck is contagious; no sooner have Iset foot in this enchanting abode than its atmospheredeteriorates. A travelling-carriage passes rapidlyby in front of the gates, when lo! some invisiblehand breaks it to pieces, and stops it from proceedingany further.”

Then I replied, “But how do you know, monsieur,that this mishap may not prove a most agreeable adventurefor the travellers to whom we are about to give shelter? To begin with, they will have the honour of makingyour acquaintance, and to meet with an illustriousperson is no common or frivolous event.”

The servants announced the Princes Comnenus, who immediatelyentered the salon. Though dressed in travelling-costume,with embroidered gaiters, in the Greek fashion, itwas easy to see what they were. The son, a ladof fourteen, was presented to me by his father, andwhen both were seated, I introduced them to the Chancellor.

“The name is well known,” observed thePrince, “even in Greece. My lord marriedhis daughter to the heir-presumptive to the Englishthrone, and England, being by nature ungrateful, hasdistressed this worthy parent, while robbing him ofall his possessions.”

At these words Lord Hyde became greatly affected;he could not restrain his tears, and fearing at firstto compromise himself, he told us that his exile wasvoluntary and self-imposed, or very nearly so.

After complimenting the Chancellor of a great kingdom,Prince Comnenus thought that he ought to say somethingcourteous and flattering to myself.

“Madame,” quoth he, “it is onlynow, after asking for hospitality and generously obtainingit, that I and my son have learnt the name of thelady who has so graciously granted us admission tothis most lovely place. For a moment we hesitatedin awe. But now our eyes behold her whom allEurope admires, whom a great King favours with hisfriendship and confidence. What strange chancesbefall one in life! Could I ever have foreseenso fortunate a mishap!”

I briefly replied to this amiable speech, and invitedthe travellers to spend, at least, one day with us. They gladly accepted, and each retired to his apartmentuntil the time came for driving out. Dinner waslaid, and on the point of being served, when the King,who was on his way from Fontainebleau, suddenly enteredmy room. He had heard something about a fire,and came to see what had happened. I at onceinformed him, telling him, moreover, that I had theDuke of York’s father-in-law staying with meat the moment.

“Lord Hyde, the Chancellor?” exclaimedthe King. “I have never seen him, andhave always been desirous to make his acquaintance. The opportunity is an easy and favourable one.”

“But that is not all, Sire; I have other gueststo meet you,” said I.

“And who may they be?” inquired the King,smiling. “Just because I have come inrough-and-ready plight, your house is full of people.”

“But they are in rough-and-ready plight as well,”I answered; “so your Majesties must mutuallyexcuse each other.”

“Are you in fun or in earnest?” askedhis Majesty. “Have you really got someking stowed away in one of your rooms?”

“Not a king, Sire, but an emperor,—­theEmperor of Constantinople and Trebizond, accompaniedby the Prince Imperial, his son. You shall seetwo Greek profiles of the best sort, two finely cutnoses, albeit hooked, and almond-shaped eyes, likethose of Achilles and Agamemnon.”

Then the King said, “Send for your groom ofthe chambers at once, and tell him to give ordersthat my incognito be strictly observed. You mustintroduce me to these dignitaries as your brother,M. de Vivonne. Under these conditions, I willjoin your party at table; otherwise, I should be obligedto leave the castle immediately.”

The King’s wishes were promptly complied with;the footmen were let into the secret, and I introduced“Monsieur de Vivonne” to my guests.

The talk, without being sparkling, was pleasant enoughuntil dessert. When the men-servants left us,it assumed a very different character. The Kinginduced the Chancellor to converse, and asked him ifhis exile were owing to the English monarch personally,or to some parliamentary intrigue.

“King Charles,” replied his lordship,“is a prince to gauge whose character requireslong study. Apparently, he is the very soul ofcandour, but no one is more deceitful than he. He fawns and smiles upon you when in his heart ofhearts he despises and loathe you. When theDuke of York, unfortunately, became violently enamouredof my daughter, he did not conceal his attachmentfrom his brother, the King, and at last asked forhis approval to join his fortunes to my daughter’s,when the King, without offering opposition, contentedhimself by pointing out the relative distance betweentheir rank and position; to which the Duke replied,’But at one time you did everything you possiblycould to get Olympia Mancini, who was merely Mazarin’sniece!’ And King Charles, who could not denythis, left his brother complete liberty of action.

“As my daughter was far dearer and more preciousto me than social grandeur, I begged the Duke of Yorkto find for himself a partner of exalted rank. He gave way to despair, and spoke of putting an endto his existence; in fact, he behaved as all loversdo whom passion touches to madness; so this balefulmarriage took place. God is my witness that Iopposed it, urged thereto by wisdom, by modesty, andby foresight. Now, as you see, from that cruelmoment I have been exiled to alien lands, robbed ofthe sight of my beloved child, who has been raisedto the rank of a princess, and whom I shall neversee again. Why did my sovereign not say to mefrankly, I do not like this marriage; you must opposeit, Chancellor, to please me?

“How different was his conduct from that ofhis cousin, the French King! Mademoiselle d’Orleanswanted to make an unsuitable match; the King opposedit, as he had a right to do, and the marriage did nottake place.”

My “brother,” the King, smiled as he toldhis lordship he was right.

Prince Comnenus was of the same opinion, and, beingexpressly invited to do so, he briefly recounted hisadventures, and stated the object of his journey toParis.

“The whole world,” said he, “isaware of the great misfortunes of my family. The Emperors Andronicus and Michael Comnenus, drivenfrom the throne of Constantinople, left their nameswithin the heart and memory of Greece; they had ruledthe West with a gentle sceptre, and in a people’sgrateful remembrance they had their reward. Myancestors, their descendants, held sway in Trebizond,a quicksand which gave way beneath their tread. From adversity to adversity, from country to country,we were finally driven to seclusion in the Isle ofCandia, part of the quondam Minos territory. Venice had allowed Candia to fall before Mahomet’sbloody sword. Europe lost her bulwark, the Crossof the Saviour was thrown down, and the Candian Christianshave been massacred or forced to flee. I haveleft in the hands of the conqueror my fields and forests,my summer palace, my winter palace, and my gardensfilled with the produce of America, Asia, and Europe. From this overwhelming disaster I managed to savemy son; and as my sole fortune I brought away withme the large jewels of Andronicus, his ivory and sapphiresceptre, his scimitar of Lemnos, and his ancient goldcrown, which once encircled Theseus’s brow.

“These noble relics I shall present to the Kingof France. They say that he is humane, generous,fond of glory, and zealous in the cause of justice. When before his now immovable throne he sees laiddown these last relics of an ancient race, perhapshe will be touched by so lamentable a downfall, andwill not suffer distress to trouble my last days,and darken the early years of this my child.”

During this speech I kept watching the King’sface. I saw that he was interested, then touched,and at last was on the point of forgetting his incognitoand of appearing in his true character.

“Prince,” said he to the Greek traveller,“my duties and my devotion make it easy forme to approach the King of France’s person veryclosely. In four or five days he will be leavingFontainebleau for his palace at Saint Germain. I will tell him without modification all that I havejust heard from you. Without being either prophetor seer, I can guarantee that you will be well receivedand cordially welcomed, receiving such benefits askings are bound to yield to kings.

“Madame, who respects and is interested in you,is desirous, I feel certain, for me to persuade youto stay here until her departure; she enjoys royalfavour, and it is my sister herself who shall presentyou at Court. You shall show her, you shallshow us all, the golden crown of Theseus, the sceptreof Adronicus, and this brow which I gaze upon andrevere, for it deserves a kingly diamond.

“As for you, my lord,” said his Majestyto the English nobleman, “if the misfortuneof last night prove disastrous in more ways than one,pray wait for a while before you go back to the smoulderingashes of a half-extinguished fire. My sistertakes pleasure in your company; indeed, the Marquiseis charmed to be able to entertain three such distinguishedguests, and begs to place her chateau at your disposaluntil such time as your own shall be restored. We shall speak of you to the King, and he will certainlyendeavour to induce King Charles, his cousin, to recallyou to your native country.”

Then, after saying one or two words to me in private,he bowed to the gentlemen and withdrew. We wentout on to the balcony to see him get into his coach,when, to the surprise and astonishment of my guests,as the carriage passed along the avenue, about a hundredpeasants, grouped near the gateway, threw off theirhats and cried, “Long live the King!”

Prince Comnenus and his son were inconsolable; I excusedmyself by saying that it was at the express desireof our royal visitor, and my lord admitted that atlast he recollected his features, and recognised himby his grand and courtly address.

Before I end my tale, do not let me forget to saythat the King strongly recommended Prince Comnenusto the Republic of Genoa, and obtained for him considerableproperty in Corsica and a handsome residence at Ajaccio.He accepted five or six beautiful jewels that had belongedto Andronicus, and caused the sum of twelve hundredthousand francs to be paid to the young Comnenus fromhis treasury.

CHAPTER XXXVII

The Universal Jubilee.—­Court Preachers.—­KingDavid.—­Madame de Montespan is Obliged togo to Clagny.—­Bossuet’s Mission.—­Mademoisellede Mauleon.—­An Enemy’s Good Faith.

I do not desire to hold up to ridicule the rites ofthat religion in which I was born and bred. Neither would I disparage its ancient usages, norits far more modern laws. All religions, as Iknow, have their peculiarities, all nations theircontradictions, but I must be suffered to complainof the abuse sometimes made in our country of clericaland priestly authority.

A general jubilee was held soon after the birth ofmy second son, and among Christian nations like ours,a jubilee is as if one said, “Now all statutes,divine and earthly, are repealed; by means of certainformula recited, certain visits paid to the temples,certain acts of abstinence practised here and there,all sins, misdemeanours, and crimes are forgiven,and their punishment cancelled.” It isgenerally on the occasion of the proclamation of anew pontificate at Rome that such great papal absolutionsare extended over the whole universe.

The jubilee having been proclaimed in Paris, the Courtpreachers worked miracles. They denounced allsocial irregularities and friendships of which theChurch disapproved. The opening sermon showedplainly that the orator’s eloquence was pointedat myself. The second preacher showed even lessrestraint; he almost mentioned me by name. Thethird ecclesiastic went beyond all bounds, actuallyuttering the following words:

“Sire, when King David was still but a shepherd,a heifer was stolen from his flocks; David made complaintto the patriarch of the land, when his heifer wasrestored to him, and the thief was punished.

“When David came to the throne, he carried offhis servant’s wife, and as an excuse for suchan odious deed, he pleaded the young woman’sextreme beauty. The wretched servant besoughthim to obey the voice, not of passion, but of justice,and the servant was disgraced and perished miserably. Oh, David, unhappy David!”

The King, who had found it hard to sit quiet and hearsuch insults, said to me that evening:

“Go to Clagny. Let this stormy weatherpass by. When it is fine again, you must comeback.”

Having never run counter to the wishes of the fatherof my children, I acquiesced, and without furtherdelay gladly departed.

Next day, Madame de Montausier came to see me at mycountry-house; she told me of the general rumour thatwas afloat at Court. The news, said she, ofmy retirement had begun to get about; three bishopshad gone to congratulate the King, and these gentlemenhad despatched couriers to Paris to inform the headsof the various parishes, inviting them to write tothe prince sympathising references touching an eventwhich God and all Christendom viewed with completesatisfaction.

Madame de Montausier assured me that the King’sbearing was fairly calm on the whole, and she alsoadded that he had granted an interview of half anhour at least to the Abbe Bossuet, who had discoursedto him about me in a strain similar to that of theother clerics.

She was my sincere friend; she promised to come toClagny every evening, driving thither incognito.

She had hardly been gone an hour, when my footmanannounced “Monsieur Bossuet, Bishop of Condom.”

At the mention of this name, I felt momentarily inclinedto refuse to see its owner; but I conquered my disgust,and I did well. The prelate, with his semi-clerical,semi-courtly air, made me a low bow. I calmlywaited, so as to give him time to deliver his message. The famous rhetorician proceeded as follows:

“You know, madame, with what health-giving sacrificesthe Church is now engaged. The merits of ourLord doubtless protect Christians at all times, butthe Church has appointed times more efficacious, ceremoniesmore useful, springs yet more abounding. Thusit is that we now celebrate the grand nine days ofthe jubilee.

“To this mystic pool herdsman and monarchs alikereceive summons and admission. The most ChristianKing must, for his own sake, accomplish his own sanctification;his sanctification provides for that of his subjects.

“Chosen by God to this royal priesthood, hecomprehends the duties imposed upon him by such nobleoffice. The passions of the heart are maladiesfrom which man may recover, just as he recovers fromphysical disease. The physicians of the soulhave lifted up their voice, have taken sage counseltogether; and I come to inform you of the monarch’smiraculous recovery, and at his request, I bring youthis important and welcome news.

“For convalescents, greater care is requiredthan for others; the King, and the whole of France,beseech you, with my voice, to have respect and carefor the convalescence of our monarch, and I beg you,madame, to leave at once for Fontevrault.”

“For Fontevrault?” I cried, without betrayingmy emotion. “Fontevrault is near Poitiers;it is too far away. No, I would rather go toPetit-Bourg, near the forest of Fontainebleau.”

“Fontainebleau is but eighteen leagues fromthe capital,” he answered; “such proximitywould be dangerous. I must insist upon Fontevrault,madame.”

“But I cannot take my children to Fontevrault,”I retorted; “the nuns, and the Abbess herself,would never admit them. You know better thanI do that it is a nunnery.”

“Your children,” said he, “are notnecessary to you; Madame de la Valliere managed toleave here for good and all.”

“Yes; and in forsaking them she committed acrime,” I answered; “only ferocious-heartedpersons could have counselled her or commanded herto do so.” And saying this, I rose, andgave him a glance of disdain.

He grew somewhat gentler in manner as he slowly wenton, “His Majesty will take care of your children;it behoves you to save their mother. And, inorder to prove to you that I have not come here ofmy own accord, but that, on the contrary, I am executinga formal command, here is a letter of farewell addressedto you by the King.”

I took the letter, which was couched in the followingterms:

It is but right, madame, that on so solemn an occasionI should set an example myself. I must ask youhenceforth to consider our intimacy entirely at anend. You must retire to Fontevrault, where Madamede Montemart will take care of you and afford youdistraction by her charming society. Your childrenare in good hands; do not be in the least uneasy aboutthem. Farewell. I wish you all the firmnessand well-being possible. LOUISON

In the first flush of my indignation I was about totrample under foot so offensive a communication. But the final phrase shocked me less than the others.

I read it over again, and understood that if the Kingrecommended me to be firm, it was because he neededto be firm himself. I soon mastered my emotion,and looked at things in their real light. Itwas easy to see that sanctimonious fanatics had forcedthe King to act. Bossuet was not sanctimonious,but, to serve his own ends, proffered himself as spokesmanand emissary, being anxious to prove to his old colleaguesthat he was on the side of what they styled moralconduct and good example.

For a while I walked up and down my salon; but theleast exertion fatigues me. I resumed my armchairor my settee, leaving the man there like a sort ofmessenger, whom it was not necessary to treat withany respect. He was bold, and asked me for adefinite answer which he could take back to his Majesty. I stared hard at him for about a minute, and thensaid: “My Lord Bishop of Condom, the clericswho have been advising the King are very pleased thathe should set an example to his people of self-sacrifice. I am of their opinion; I think as they do, as youdo, as the Pope does; but feeling convinced that tous, the innocent sheep, the shepherds ought firstto show an example, I will consent to break off myrelationship with his Majesty when you, M. de Condom,shall have broken off your intimacy with Mademoisellede Mauleon des Vieux!”

By a retort of this kind I admit that I hoped greatlyto embarrass the Bishop, and enjoy seeing his faceredden with confusion. But he was nowise disconcerted,and I confess to-day that this circ*mstance provedto me that there was but little truth in the rumoursthat were current with regard to this subject.

“Mademoiselle de Mauleon!” said he, smilinghalf-bitterly, half-pityingly. “Surely,madame, your grief makes you forget what you say.Everybody knows that she is an acquaintance of my youth,and that, since that time, having confidence in mydoctrines and my counsel, she wished to have me asspiritual monitor and guide. How can you institutea comparison between such a relationship and your own?” Then, after walking up and down for a moment, asif endeavouring to regain his self-possession, hecontinued:

“However, I shall not insist further; it wassignally foolish of me to speak in the name of anearthly king, when I should have invoked that of theKing of Heaven. I have received an insultinganswer. So be it.

“Farewell, madame. I leave you to yourown conscience, which, seemingly, is so tranquil thatI blame myself for having sought to disturb it.”

With these words he departed, leaving me much amazedat the patience with which a man, known to be so arrogantand haughty, had received such an onslaught upon hisprivate life and reputation.

I need scarcely say that, next day, the species ofpastoral letter which my lords the Bishops of Aleth,Orleans, Soissons, and Condom had dictated to theKing was succeeded by another letter, which he haddictated himself, and by which my love for him wassolaced and assured.

He begged me to wait patiently for a few days, andthis arrangement served my purpose very well. I thought it most amusing that the King should havecommissioned M. de Bossuet to deliver this second missive,and I believe I said as much to certain persons, whichperhaps gave rise to a rumour that he actually broughtme love-letters from the King. But the purveyorsof such gossip could surely know nothing of Bossuet’sinflexible principles, and of the subtlety of his policy. He was well aware that by lending himself to suchamenities he would lose caste morally with the King,and that if by his loyalty he had won royal attachmentand regard, all this would have been irretrievablylost. Thus M. de Bossuet was of those who say,“Hate me, but fear me,” rather than ofthose who strive to be loved. Such people knowthat friendships are generally frail and transient,and that esteem lasts longer and leads further. He never interfered again with my affairs, nor didI with his; I got my way, and he is still where hewas.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

Madame de Montespan Back at Court.—­HerFriends.—­Her Enemies.—­EdifyingConversions.—­The Archbishop of Paris.

Eight days after the conclusion of the jubilee I returnedto Versailles. The King received me with everymark of sincere friendship; my friends came in crowdsto my apartments; my enemies left their names withmy Swiss servant, and in chapel they put back my seat,chairs, and footstools in their usual place.

Madame de Maintenon had twice sent my children toClagny

[The splendid Chateau de Clagny (since demolished)was situated on the beautiful country surroundingVersailles, near the wood of Millers d’Avrai.—­EDITOR’snote.]

with the under-governess; but she did not come herself,which greatly inconvenienced me. I complainedto her about this, and she assured me the King haddissuaded her from visiting me, “so as to putcurious folk off the scent;” and when I toldher of my interview with M. de Bossuet, she neatlyavoided being mixed up in the matter by omitting toblame anybody. The most licentious women, soshe told me, had distinguished themselves by piousexercises during the observance of the jubilee.She informed me that the Comtesse de Soissons, thePrincesse de Monaco, Madame de Soubise, and five orsix virtuous dames of this type, had given gold, silver,and enamelled lamps to the most notable churches ofthe capital. The notorious duch*esse de Longuevilletalked of having her own tomb constructed in a Carmelitechapel. Six leaders of fashion had forswornrouge, and Madame d’Humieres had given up gambling. As for my lord the Archbishop of Paris, he had notchanged his way of life a jot, either for the betteror for the worse.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

Attempted Abduction.—­The Marquise Procuresa Bodyguard.—­Her Reasons for So Doing.—­Geographyand Morals.

The youthful Marquis d’Antin—­my son—­wasgrowing up; the King showed him the most flatteringsigns of his attachment, and as the child had livedonly with me, he dreaded his father’s violenttemper, of which he had often heard me speak. In order to have the custody of his son, the Marquisde Montespan had appealed to Parliament; but partisansof the King had shelved the matter, which, thoughever in abeyance, was still pending. I had myson educated under my care, being sure of the tenderattachment that would spring up between himself andthe princes, his brothers. At the Montespanchateau, I admit, he would have learned to ride anunbroken horse, as well as to shoot hares, partridges,and big game; he would also have learned to talk loud,to use bad language, to babble about his pedigree,while ignorant of its history or its crest; in fine,he would have learned to despise his mother, and probablyto hate her. Educated under my eyes, almoston the King’s lap, he soon learned the customsof the Court and all that a well-born gentleman shouldknow. He will be made Duc d’Antin, I havethe King’s word for it,—­and his mienand address, which fortunately sort well with thatwhich Fate holds in store for him, entitle him torank with all that is most exalted at Court.

The Procureur-General caused a man from Barn to bearrested, who had come to abduct my son. Thisindividual, half-Spanish and half-French, was detainedin the Paris prisons, and I was left in ignorance ofthe matter. It was imprudent not to tell me,and almost occasioned a serious mishap.

One day I was returning from the neighbourhood ofEtampes with only my son, his tutor, and my physicianin the carriage. On reaching a steep incline,where the brake should be put on, my servants imprudentlyneglected to do this, and I felt that we were burningthe roadway in our descent. Such recklessnessmade me uneasy, when suddenly twelve horsem*n rodeheadlong at us, and sought to stop the postilions. My six horses were new ones and very fresh; theygalloped along at breakneck speed. Our pursuersfired at the coachman, but missed him, and the reportof a pistol terrified the horses yet further. They redoubled their speed. We gave ourselvesup for lost, as an accident of some sort seemed boundto ensue, when suddenly my carriage reached the courtyardof an inn, where we obtained help.

Baulked of their prey, the horsem*n turned about androde away. They had been noticed the day before,hanging about and asking for Madame de Montespan.

We stayed that night at the inn, and next day, providedwith a stout escort, we reached Saint Germain.

The King regretted not having provided against similarattempts. He rewarded my postilions for theirneglect to use the brake (a neglect which, at first,I was going to punish), saying to me, “If theyhad put the brake on, you would have been capturedand whisked off to the Pyrenees. Your husbandis never going to give in!”

“Such a disagreeable surprise,” addedhe, “shall not occur again. Henceforthyou shall not travel without an adequate escort. In future, you shall have a guard of honour, likethe Queen and myself.” I had long wishedfor this privilege, and I warmly thanked his Majesty.

Nevertheless, people chose to put a completely falseconstruction upon so simple an innovation, and mysentiments in the matter were wholly misunderstood. It was thought that vanity had prompted me to endeavourto put myself on a level with the Queen, and this worthyprincess was herself somewhat nettled thereat. God is my witness that, from mere motives of prudence,this unusual arrangement had to be made, and I entirelyagreed to it. After all, if the Infanta of Spaingave birth to the Dauphin, Athenais de Mortemart isthe mother of several princes.

In France, a Catholic realm, for the King to havea second wife is considered superfluous by the timorousand shrivelled-brained. In Constantinople, Alexandria,and Ispahan, I should have met with only homage, veneration,respect. Errors of a purely geographical natureare not those which cause me alarm; to have broughtinto the world so perfect a being as the Duc du Mainewill never, as I take it, incur blame at the tribunalof Almighty God.

Mademoiselle de Nantes, his charming sister, has fromher cradle been destined to belong to one of the royalbranches. Mademoiselle de Blois will also becomethe mother of several Bourbon princes; I have goodgrounds for cherishing such flattering hopes.

The little Comte de Toulouse already bids fair tobe a worthy successor to M. du Maine. He hasthe same grace of manner, and frank, distinguishedmien.

When all these princes possess their several escorts,it will seem passing strange that their mother aloneshould not have any. That is my opinion, andit is shared by all people of sense.

CHAPTER XL.

Osmin, the Little Moor.—­He Sets the Fashion.—­TheQueen Has a Black Baby.—­Osmin is Dismissed.

I have already told how the envoys of the King ofArda, an African prince, gave to the Queen a nicelittle blackamoor, as a toy and pet. This Moor,aged about ten or twelve years, was only twenty-seveninches in height, and the King of Arda declared that,being quite unique, the boy would never grow to betaller than three feet.

The Queen instantly took a great fancy to this blackcreature. Sometimes he gambolled about and turnedsomersaults on her carpet like a kitten, or frolickedabout on the bureau, the sofa, and even on the Queen’slap.

As she passed from one room to another, he used tohold up her train, and delighted to catch hold ofit and so make the Queen stop short suddenly, or elseto cover his head and face with it, for mischief, tomake the courtiers laugh.

He was arrayed in regular African costume, wearinghandsome bracelets, armlets, a necklace ablaze withjewels, and a splendid turban. Wishing to showmyself agreeable, I gave him a superb aigrette of rubiesand diamonds; I was always sorry afterwards that Idid so.

The King could never put up with this little dwarf,albeit his features were comely enough. To beginwith, he thought him too familiar, and never evenanswered him when the dwarf dared to address him.

Following the fashion set by her Majesty, all theCourt ladies wanted to have little blackamoors tofollow them about, set off their white complexions,and hold up their cloaks or their trains. Thusit came that Mignard, Le Bourdon, and other paintersof the aristocracy, used to introduce negro boys intoall their large portraits. It was a mode, amania; but so absurd a fashion soon had to disappearafter the mishap of which I am about to tell.

The Queen being pregnant, public prayers were offeredup for her according to custom, and her Majesty wasforever saying: “My pregnancy this timeis different from preceding ones. I am a preyto nausea and strange whims; I have never felt likethis before. If, for propriety’s sake,I did not restrain myself, I should now dearly liketo be turning somersaults on the carpet, like littleOsmin. He eats green fruit and raw game; thatis what I should like to do, too. I should liketo—­”

“Oh, madame, you frighten us!” exclaimedthe King. “Don’t let all those whimsiestrouble you further, or you will give birth to somemonstrosity, some freak of nature.” HisMajesty was a true prophet. The Queen was deliveredof a fine little girl, black as ink from head to foot. They did not tell her this at once, fearing a catastrophe,but persuaded her to go to sleep, saying that thechild had been taken away to be christened.

The physicians met in one room, the bishops and chaplainsin another. One prelate was opposed to baptisingthe infant; another only agreed to this upon certainconditions. The majority decided that it shouldbe baptised without the name of father or mother,and such suppression was unanimously advocated.

The little thing, despite its swarthy hue, was mostbeautifully made; its features bore none of thosemarks peculiar to people of colour.

It was sent away to the Gisors district to be suckledas a negro’s daughter, and the Gazette de Francecontained an announcement to the effect that the royalinfant had died, after having been baptised by thechaplains.

[This daughter of the Queen lived, and was obligedto enter a Benedictine nunnery at Moret. Herportrait is to be seen in the Sainte Genevieve Libraryof Henri IV.’s College, where it hangs in thewinter saloon.—­Editor’s note.]

The little African was sent away, as may well be imagined;and the Queen admitted that, one day soon after shewas pregnant, he had hidden himself behind a pieceof furniture and suddenly jumped out upon her to giveher a fright. In this he was but too successful.

The Court ladies no longer dared come near the Queenattended by their little blackamoors. These,however, they kept for a while longer, as if theywere mere nick-hacks or ornaments; in Paris they werestill to be seen in public. But the ladies’husbands at last got wind of the tale, when all thelittle negroes disappeared.

CHAPTER XLI.

Monsieur’s Second Marriage.—­PrincessPalatine.—­The Court Turnspit.—­AWoman’s Hatred.—­The King’s Mistresson a Par with the First Prince of the Blood.—­SheGives His Wife a Lesson.

In order to keep up appearances at his Palais Royal,Monsieur besought the King to consent to his remarriageafter the usual term of mourning was at an end.

“Whom have you in view?” asked his brother. He replied that he proposed to wed Mademoiselle—­thegrande Mademoiselle de Montpensier—­on accountof her enormous wealth!

Just then Mademoiselle was head over ears in lovewith Lauzun. She sent the Prince about his business,as I believe I have already stated. Moreover,she remarked: “You had the loveliest wifein all Europe,—­young, charming, a veritablepicture. You might have seen to it that shewas not poisoned; in that case you would not now bea widower. As it is not likely that I shouldever come to terms with your favourites, I shall neverbe anything else to you but a cousin, and I shallendeavour not to die until the proper time; that is,when it shall please God to take me. You canrepeat this speech, word for word, to your preciousMarquis d’Effiat and Messieurs de Remecourt andde Lorraine. They have no access to my kitchens;I am not afraid of them.”

This answer amused the King not a little, and he saidto me: “I was told that the Palatine ofBavaria’s daughter is extremely ugly and ill-bred;consequently, she is capable of keeping Monsieur incheck. Through one of my Rhenish allies, I willmake proposals to her father for her hand. Assoon as a reply comes, I will show my brother a portraitof some sort; it will be all the same to him; he willaccept her.”

Soon afterwards this marriage took place. CharlotteElizabeth of Bavaria, though aware of the sort ofdeath that her predecessor died, agreed to marry Monsieur. Had she not been lucky enough to make this grandmatch, her extreme ugliness would assuredly have doomedher to celibacy, even in Bavaria and in Germany. It is surely not allowable to come into the worldwith such a face and form, such a voice, such eyes,such hands, and such feet, as this singular princessdisplayed. The Court, still mindful of the sweetness,grace, and charm of Henrietta of England, could notcontemplate without horror and disgust the fearfulcaricature I have just described. Young pregnantwomen—­after the Queen’s unfortunateexperience—­were afraid to look at the PrincessPalatine, and wished to be confined before they reappearedat Court.

As for herself, armed with robust, philosophical notions,and a complete set of Northern nerves, she was inno way disconcerted at the effect her presence produced. She even had the good sense to appear indifferentto all the raillery she provoked, and said to theKing:

“Sire, to my mind you are one of the handsomestmen in the world, and with few exceptions, your Courtappears to me perfectly fitted for you. I havecome but scantily equipped to such an assemblage. Fortunately, I am neither jealous nor a coquette,and I shall win pardon for my plainness, I myselfbeing the first to make merry at it.”

“You put us completely at our ease,” repliedthe King, who had not even the courage to be gallant. “I must thank you on behalf of these ladiesfor your candour and wit.” Ten or twelveof us began to titter at this speech of hers. The Robust Lady never forgave those who laughed.

Directly she arrived, she singled me out as the objectof her ponderous Palatine sarcasms. She exaggeratedmy style of dress, my ways and habits. She thoughtto make fun of my little spaniels by causing herselfto be followed, even into the King’s presence-chamber,by a large turnspit, which in mockery she called bythe name of my favourite dog.

When I had had my hair dressed, ornamented with quantitiesof little curls, diamonds, and jewelled pins, shehad the impertinence to appear at Court wearing ahuge wig, a grotesque travesty of my coiffure. I was told of it. I entered the King’sapartment without deigning to salute Madame, or evento look at her.

I had also been told that, in society, she referredto me as “the Montespan woman.” I met her one day in company with a good many otherpeople, and said to her:

“Madame, you managed to give up your religionin order to marry a French prince; you might justas well have left behind your gross Palatine vulgarityalso. I have the honour to inform you that, inthe exalted society to which you have been admitted,one can no more say ’the Montespan woman,’than one can say ‘the Orleans woman.’ I have never offended you in the slightest degree,and I fail to see why I should have been chosen asthe favoured object of your vulgar insults.”

She blushed, and ventured to inform me that this wayof expressing herself was a turn of speech taken fromher own native language, and that by saying “the,”as a matter of course “Marquise” was understood.

“No, madame,” I said, without appearingirritated; “in Paris, such an excuse as thatis quite inadmissible, and since you associate withturnspits, pray ask your cooks, and they will tellyou.”

Fearing to quarrel with the King, she was obligedto be more careful, but to change one’s dispositionis impossible, and she has loathed and insulted meever since. Her husband, who himself probablytaught her to do so, one day tried to make apologiesfor what he ruefully termed her reprehensible conduct. “There, there, it doesn’t matter,”I said to him; “it is easier to offend me thanto deceive me. Allow me to quote to you thespeech of Mademoiselle de Montpensier, ’You hada charming and accomplished wife, you ought to haveprevented her from being poisoned, and then we shouldnot have had this hag at Court.’”

CHAPTER XLII.

Madame de Montespan’s Father-confessor.—­HeAlters His Opinion.—­Madame de MaintenonIs Consulted.—­A General on Theology.—­ACountry Priest.—­The Marquise PostponesHer Repentance and Her Absolution.

My father-confessor, who since my arrival at Courthad never vexed or thwarted me, suddenly altered hiswhole manner towards me, from which I readily concludedthat the Queen had got hold of him. This priest,of gentle, easy-going, kindly nature, never spoketo me except in a tone of discontent and reproach. He sought to induce me to leave the King there andthen, and retire to some remote chateau. Seeingthat he was intriguing, and had, so to speak, takenup his position, like a woman of experience I tookup mine as well, and politely dismissed him, at whichhe was somewhat surprised. In matters of religion,Madame de Maintenon, who understands such things,was my usual mentor. I told her that I was disheartened,and should not go to confession again for ever so long.She was shocked at my resolve, and strove all shecould to make me change my mind and endeavour to leadme back into the right way.

She forever kept repeating her favourite argument,saying, “Good gracious! suppose you should diein that state!”

I replied that it was not my fault, as I had neverceased to obey the precepts of the Holy Church. “It was my old father-confessor,” saidI, “the Canon of Saint Thomas du Louvre, whohad harshly refused to confess me.”

“What he does,” replied she, “issolely for your own good.”

“But if he has only my well-being in view,”I quickly retorted, “why did not he think ofthis at first? It would have been far betterto have stopped me at the outset, instead of lettingme calmly proceed upon my career. He is obeyingthe Queen’s orders, or else those of that AbbeBossuet de Mauleon, who no longer dares attack me tomy face.”

As we thus talked, the Duc de Vivonne came into myroom. Learning the topic of our discussion,he spoke as follows: “I should not be generalof the King’s Galleys and a soldier at heartand by profession if my opinion in this matter wereother than it is. I have attentively read controversieson this point, and have seen it conclusively provedthat our kings never kept a confessor at Court. Among these kings, too, there were most holy, mostsaintly people, and—­”

“Then, what do you conclude from that, Duke?” asked Madame de Maintenon.

“Why, that Madame will do well to respect hisMajesty the King as her father-confessor.”

“Oh, Duke, you shock me! What dreadfuladvice, to be sure!” cried the governess.

“I have not the least wish to shock you, madame;but my veneration for D’Aubigne—­

[Theodore Agrippa, Baron d’Aubigne, lieutenant-generalin the army of Henri IV. He persevered in Calvinismafter the recantation of the King.—­Editor’snote.]

your illustrious grandfather—­is too greatto let me think that he is among the damned, and henever attended confession at all.”

“Eternity hides that secret from us,”replied Madame de Maintenon. “Each dayI pray to God to have mercy upon my poor grandfather;if I thought he were among the saved, I should neverbe at pains to do this.”

“Bah, madame! let’s talk like sensible,straightforward people,” quoth the General. “The reverend Pere de la Chaise—­oneof the Jesuit oracles—­gives the King absolutionevery year, and authorises him to receive the HolySacrament at Easter. If the King’s confessor—­thoroughpriest as he is—­pardons his intimacy withmadame, here, how comes it that the other cleric won’ttolerate madame’s intimacy with the King? On a point of such importance as this, the two confessorsought really to come to some agreement, or else, asthe Jesuits have such a tremendous reputation, theMarquise is entitled to side with them.”

Hemmed in thus, Madame de Maintenon remarked “thatthe morals of Jesuits and lax casuists had never beenhers,” and she advised me to choose a confessorfar removed from the Court and its intrigues.

The next day she mentioned a certain village priestto me, uninfluenced by anybody, and whose primitivesimplicity caused him to be looked upon as a saint.

I submitted, and ingenuously went to confess myselfto this wonderful man; his great goodness did notprevent him from rallying me about the elegance ofmy costume, and the perfume of my gloves, and my hair. He insisted upon knowing my name, and on learningit, flew into a passion. I suppress the detailsof his disagreeable propositions. Seated sidewaysin his confessional, he stamped on the floor, abusedme, and spoke disrespectfully of the King. Icould not stand such scandalous behaviour for long;and, wearing my veil down, I got into my coach, beingthoroughly determined that I would take a good longholiday. M. de Vivonne soundly rated me forsuch cowardice, as he called it, while Madame de Maintenonoffered me her curate-in-chief, or else the Abbe Gobelin.

But, for the time being, I determined to keep to myplan of not going to confession, strengthened in suchresolve by my brother Vivonne’s good sense,and the attitude of the King’s Jesuit confessor,who had a great reputation and knew what he was about.

CHAPTER XLIII.

The Comte de Guiche.—­His Violent Passionfor Madame.—­His Despair.—­HeFlees to La Trappe.—­And Comes Out Again.—­AMan’s Heart.—­Cured of His Passion,He Takes a Wife.

The Comte de Guiche, son of the Marechal de Grammont,was undoubtedly one of the handsomest men in France.

The grandeur and wealth of his family had, at an earlyage, inspired him with courage and self-conceit, sothat in his blind, frivolous presumption, the onlyperson, as he thought, who exceeded his own fascinationwas possibly the King, but nobody else.

Perceiving the wonderful charm of Monsieur’sfirst wife, he conceived so violent a passion forher that no counsel nor restraint could prevent himfrom going to the most extravagant lengths in obedienceto this rash, this boundless passion.

Henrietta of England, much neglected by her husband,and naturally of a romantic disposition, allowed theyoung Count to declare his love for her, either bysinging pretty romances under her balcony, or by wearingribbons, bunched together in the form of a hieroglyphic,next his heart. Elegantly dressed, he never failedto attend all the assemblies to which she lent lustreby her presence. He followed her to Saint Germain,to Versailles, to Chambord, to Saint Cloud; he onlylived and had his being in the enjoyment of contemplatingher charms.

One day, being desirous of walking alongside her sedan-chair,without being recognised, he had a complete suit madefor him of the La Valliere livery, and thus, seemingto be one of the duch*ess’s pages, he was ableto converse with Madame for a short time. Anothertime he disguised himself as a pretty gipsy, and cameto tell the Princess her fortune. At first shedid not recognise him, but when the secret was out,and all the ladies were in fits of laughter, a pagecame running in to announce the arrival of Monsieur. Young De Guiche slipped out by a back staircase,and in order to facilitate his exit, one of the footmen,worthy of Moliere, caught hold of the Prince as ifhe were one of his comrades, and holding a handkerchiefover his face, nearly poked his eye out.

The Count’s indiscretions were retailed in duecourse to Monsieur by his favourites, and he was incensedbeyond measure. He complained to Marechal deGrammont; he complained to the King.

Hereupon, M. de Guiche received orders to travel fortwo or three years.

War with the Turks had just been declared, and togetherwith other officers, his friends, he set out for Candiaand took part in the siege. All did him the justiceto affirm that while there he behaved like a hero. When the fortress had to capitulate, and Candia waslost to the Christians forever, our officers returnedto France. Madame was still alive when the youngCount rejoined his family. He met the Princessonce or twice in society, without being able to approachher person, or say a single word to her.

Soon afterwards, she gave birth to a daughter. A few days later, certain monsters took her lifeby giving her poison. This dreadful event madesuch an impression upon the poor Comte de Guiche, thatfor a long while he lost his gaiety, youth, good looks,and to a certain extent, his reason. After yieldingto violent despair, he was possessed with rash ideasof vengeance. The Marechal de Grammont had tosend him away to one of his estates, for the Counttalked of attacking and of killing, without furtherado, the Marquis d’Effiat, M. de Remecourt, thePrince’s intendant, named Morel,

[Morel subsequently admitted his guilt in the matterof Madame’s death, as well as the commissionof other corresponding crimes. See the Lettersof Charlotte, the Princess Palatine.—­Editor’snote.]

and even the Duc d’Orleans himself.

His intense agitation was succeeded by profound melancholy,stupor closely allied to insanity or death.

One evening, the Comte de Guiche went to the AbbeyChurch of Saint Denis. He hid himself here, toavoid being watched, and when the huge nave was closed,and all the attendants had left, he rushed forwardand flung himself at full length upon the tombstonewhich covers the vast royal vault. By the flickeringlight of the lamps, he mourned the passing hence ofso accomplished a woman, murdered in the flower ofher youth. He called her by name, telling heronce more of his deep and fervent love. Nextday, he wandered about in great pain, gloomy and inconsolable.

One day he came to see me at Clagny, and talked ina hopeless, desolate way about our dear one. He told me that neither glory nor ambition nor voluptuouspleasures could ever allure him or prove soothing tohis soul. He assured me that life was a burdento him,—­a burden that religion alone preventedhim from relinquishing, and that he was determinedto shut himself up in La Trappe or in some such wild,deserted place.

I sought to dissuade him from such a project, whichcould only be the cause of grief and consternationto his relatives. He pretended to yield to myentreaties, but the next night he left home and disappeared.

At length he came back. Luckily, the TrappistAbbe de Ranch wished to take away from him the portraiton enamel of Henrietta of England, so as to breakit in pieces before his eyes. So indignant wasthe Count that he was upon the point of giving thehermit a thrashing. He fled in disgust fromthe monastery, and this fresh annoyance served, insome degree, to assuage his grief. Life’sdaily occupations, the excitements of society, thecontinual care shown towards him by his relatives,youth, above all, and Time, the irresistible healer,at last served to soothe a sorrow which, had it lastedlonger, would have been more disastrous in its results.

The Comte de Guiche consented to marry a wife to whomhe was but slightly attached, and who is quite contentwith him, praising his good qualities and all hisactions.

CHAPTER XLIV.

Mexica.—­Philippa.—­Molina.—­TheQueen’s Jester.

In marrying Maria Theresa, Infanta of Spain, the Kinghad made an advantageous match from a political pointof view. For through the Infanta he had rightswith regard to Flanders; she also provided him witheventual claims upon Spain itself, together with Mexicoand Peru. But from a personal and social pointof view, the King could not have contracted a moremiserable alliance. The Infanta, almost whollyuneducated, had not even such intellectual resourcesas a position such as hers certainly required, wherepersonal risk was perpetual, where authority had tobe maintained by charming manners, and respect forpower ensured by elevation of tone and sentiment,which checks the indiscreet, and imbues everybodywith the spirit of consideration and reverence.

Maria Theresa, though a king’s daughter, madeno more effect at Court than if she had been a meremiddle-class person. The King, in fact, by hisconsiderateness, splendour, and glory, served to supporther dignity. He hoped and even desired that sheshould be held in honour, partly for her own sake,in a great measure for his. But as soon as shestarted upon some argument or narration where forceof intellect was needed, she always seemed bewildered,and he soon interrupted her either by finishing thetale himself, or by changing the conversation. This he did good-naturedly and with much tact, sothat the Queen, instead of taking offence, was pleasedto be under such an obligation to him. From sucha wife this prince could not look to have sons ofremarkable talent or intellect, for that would havebeen nothing short of a miracle. And thus thelittle Dauphin showed none of those signs of intelligencewhich the most ordinary commonplace children usuallydisplay. When the Queen heard courtiers repeatsome of the droll, witty sayings of the Comte de Vegin,or the Duc du Maine, she reddened with jealousy, andremarked, “Everybody goes into ecstasies aboutthose children, while Monsieur le Dauphin is nevereven mentioned.”

She had brought with her from Spain that Donna SilviaMolina, of whom I have already spoken, and who hadgot complete control over her character. Insteadof tranquillising her, and so making her happy, DonnaSilvia thought to become more entertaining, and aboveall, more necessary to her, by gossiping to her aboutthe King’s amours. She ferreted out allthe secret details, all the petty circ*mstances, andwith such dangerous material troubled the mind anddestroyed the repose of her mistress, who wept unceasingly,and became visibly changed.

La Molina, enriched and almost wealthy, was sent backto Spain, much to the grief of Maria Theresa, whofor several days after her departure could neithereat nor sleep.

At the same time, the King got rid of that littleshe-dwarf, named Mexica, in whose insufferable talkand insufferable presence the Queen took delight. But the sly little wretch escaped during the journey,and managed to get back to the princess again, hiddenin some box or basket. The Queen was highly delightedto see her again; she pampered her secretly in herprivate cabinet with the utmost mystery, giving upevery moment that she could spare.

One day, by way of a short cut, the King was passingthrough the Queen’s closet, when he heard thesound of coughing in one of the cupboards. Turningback, he flung it open, where, huddled up in greatconfusion, he found Mexica.

“What!” cried his Majesty; “so youare back again? When and how did you come?”

In a feeble voice Mexica answered, “Sire, pleasedon’t send me away from the Queen any more,and she will never complain again about Madame deMontespan.”

The King laughed at this speech, and then came andrepeated it to me. I laughed heartily, too,and such a treaty of peace seemed to contain queercompensation clauses: Madame de Montespan andMexica were mutually bound over to support each other;the spectacle was vastly droll, I vow.

Besides her little dwarf, the Queen had a fool namedTricominy. This quaint person was permittedto utter everywhere and to everybody in incoherentfashion the pseudo home-truths that passed throughhis head. One day he went up to the grande Mademoisellede Montpensier, and said to her before everybody,“Since you are so anxious to get married, marryme; then that will be a man-fool and a woman-fool.” The Princess tried to hit him, and he took refugebehind the Queen’s chair.

Another time, to M. Letellier, Louvois’s brotherand Archbishop of Rheims, he said, “Monseigneur,do let me ascend the pulpit in your Cathedral, andI will preach modesty and humanity to you.” When the little Duc d’Anjou, that pretty, charmingchild, died of suppressed measles, the Queen was inconsolable,and the King, good father that he is, was weepingfor the little fellow, for he promised much. Says Tricominy, “They’re weeping justas if princes had not got to die like anybody else. M. d’Anjou was no better made than I am, norof better stuff.”

Tricominy was dismissed, because it was plain thathis madness took a somewhat eccentric turn; that,in fact, he was not fool enough for his place.

The Queen had still a Spanish girl named Philippa,to whom she was much attached, and who deserved suchflattering attachment. Born in the EscurialPalace, Philippa had been found one night in a prettycradle at the base of one of the pillars. Thepalace guards informed King Philip, who adopted thechild and brought it up, since it had been foistedupon him as his daughter. He grew fond of thegirl, and on coming to Saint Jean de Luz to marrythe Infanta to his nephew the King, he made them apresent of Philippa, and begged them both to be verygood to her. In this amiable Spanish girl, theInfanta recognised a sister. She knew she wasan illegitimate daughter of King Philip and one ofthe palace ladies.

When Molina left the Court, she did everything onearth to induce Philippa to return with her to Spain,but the girl was sincerely attached to the Queen,who, holding her in a long embrace, promised to findher a wealthy husband if she would stay. However,the Queen only gave her as husband the Chevalier deHuze, her cloak-bearer, so as to keep the girl abouther person and to be intimate with her daily. Philippa played the mandolin and the guitar to perfection;she, also sang and danced with consummate grace.

CHAPTER XLV.

Le Bouthilier de Ranch, Abbe de la Trappe.

The Abbe le Bouthilier de Rance,—­son ofthe secretary of state, Le Bouthilier de Chavigny,—­afterhaving scandalised Court and town by his public gallantries,lost his mistress, a lady possessed of a very greatname and of no less great beauty. His grief borderedupon despair; he forsook the world, gave away or soldhis belongings, and went and shut himself up in hisAbbey of La Trappe, the only benefice which he hadretained. This most ancient monastery was ofthe Saint Bernard Order, with white clothing. The edifice spacious, yet somewhat dilapidated wassituated on the borders of Normandy, in a wild, gloomyvalley exposed to fog and frost.

The Abbe found in this a place exactly suitable tohis plan, which was to effect reforms of austere characterand contrary to nature. He convened his monks,who were amazed at his arrival and residence; he soundlyrated them for the scandalous laxity of their conduct,and having reminded them of all the obligations oftheir office, he informed them of his new regulations,the nature of which made them tremble. He proposednothing less than to condemn them to daily manuallabour, the tillage of the soil, the performance ofmenial household duties; and to this he added thepractices of immoderate fasting, perpetual silence,downcast glances, veiled countenances, the renouncementof all social ties, and all instructive or entertainingliterature. In short, he advocated sleepingall together on the bare floor of an ice-cold dormitory,the continual contemplation of death, the dreadfulobligation of digging, while alive, one’s owngrave every day with one’s own hands, and thus,in imagination, burying oneself therein before beingat rest there for ever.

As laws so foolish and so tyrannical were read outto them, the worthy monks—­all of them ofdifferent character and age openly expressed theirdiscontent. The Abbe de Rance allowed them togo and get pleasure in other monasteries, and contrivedto collect around him youths whom it was easy to delude,and a few elderly misanthropes; with these he formedhis doleful wailing flock.

As he loved notoriety in everything, he had variousviews of his monastery engraved, and pictures representingthe daily pursuits of his laborious community. Such pictures, hawked about everywhere by itinerantvendors of relics and rosaries, served to create forthis barbarous reformer a reputation saintly and angelic. In towns, villages, even in royal palaces, he formedthe one topic of conversation. Several gentlemen,disgusted either with vice or with society, retiredof their own accord to his monastery, where they remainedin order that they might the sooner die.

Desirous of enjoying his ridiculous celebrity, theAbbe de Rance came to Paris, under what pretext Ido not remember, firmly resolved to show himself offin all the churches, and solicit abundant alms forhis phantoms who never touched food. From allsides oblations were forthcoming; soon he had gotmoney enough to build a palace, if he had liked.

It being impossible for him to take the august Mademoisellede Montpensier to his colony of monks, he desiredat any rate to induce her to withdraw from the world,and counselled her to enter a Carmelite convent. Mademoiselle’s ardent passion for M. de Lauzunseemed to the Trappist Abbe a scandal; in fact, hissour spirit could brook no scandal of any sort. “I attended her father as he lay dying,”said he, “and to me belongs the task of training,enlightening, and sanctifying his daughter. I would have her keep silence; she has spoken too much.”

The moment was ill chosen; just then Mademoisellede Montpensier was striving to break the fetters ofher dear De Lauzun; she certainly did not wish toget him out of one prison, and then put herself intoanother. Every one blamed this reformer’sfoolish presumption, and Mademoiselle, thoroughlyexasperated, forbade her servants to admit him. It was said that he had worked two or three miracles,and brought certain dead people back to life.

“I will rebuild his monastery for him in marbleif he will give us back poor little Vegin, and theDuc d’Anjou,” said the King to me.

The remark almost brought tears to my eyes, just asI was about to joke with his Majesty about the fellowand his miracles.

Well satisfied with his Parisian harvest, the Abbele Bouthilier de Rance went straight to his convent,where the inmates were persevering enough to be silent,fast, dig, catch their death of cold, and beat themselvesfor him.

Madame Cormeil, wishing to have a good look at theman, sent to inform him of her illness. Would-besaints are much afraid of words with a double meaning. In no whit disconcerted, he replied that he had devotedhis entire zeal to the poor in spirit, and that MadameCormeil was not of their number.

CHAPTER XLVI.

The Court Goes to Flanders.—­Nancy.—­Ravon.—­SainteMarie aux
Mines.—­Dancing and Death.—­AGerman Sovereign’s Respectful Visit.—­The
Young Strasburg Priests.—­The Good Bailiffof Chatenoi.—­The Bridge at
Brisach.—­The Capucin Monk Presented tothe Queen.

Before relating that which I have to say about theQueen and her precautions against myself, I wouldnot omit certain curious incidents during the journeythat the King caused us to take in Alsatia and Flanders,when he captured Maestricht and Courtrai.

The King having left us behind at Nancy, a splendidtown where a large proportion of the nobility grievedfor the loss of Messieurs de Lorraine, their legitimatesovereigns, the Queen soon saw that here she was morehonoured than beloved. It was this position whichsuggested to her the idea of going to Spa, close by,and of taking the waters for some days.

If the Infanta was anxious to escape from the frigidcourtesies of the Lorraine aristocracy, I also longedto have a short holiday, and to keep away from theQueen, as well for the sake of her peace of mind asfor my own. My doctor forbade me to take theSpa waters, as they were too sulphurous; he orderedme those of Pont-a-Mousson. Hardly had I movedthere, when orders came for us all to meet at Luneville,and thence we set out to rejoin the King.

Horrible was the first night of our journey spentat Ravon, in the Vosges Mountains. The housein which Mademoiselle de Montpensier and I lodgedwas a dilapidated cottage, full of holes, and proppedup in several places. Lying in bed, we heardthe creaking of the beams and rafters. Two daysafterwards the house, so they told us, collapsed.

From that place we went on to Sainte Marie aux Mines,a mean sort of town, placed like a long corridor betweentwo lofty, well-wooded mountains, which even at noondaydeprive it of sun. Close by there is a shallow,rock-bound streamlet which divides Lorraine from Alsace. Sainte Marie aux Mines belonged to the Prince Palatineof Birkenfeld. This Prince offered us his castleof Reif Auvilliers, an uncommonly beautiful residence,which he had inherited from the Comtesse de Ribaupierre,his wife.

This lady’s father was just dead, and as, inaccordance with German etiquette, the Count’sfuneral obsequies could not take place for a month,in the presence of all his relatives and friends, whocame from a great distance, the corpse, embalmed andplaced in a leaden coffin, lay in state under a canopyin the mortuary chapel.

Our equerries, seeing that the King’s chamberlooked on to the mortuary chapel, took upon themselvesto blow out all the candles, and for the time beingstowed away the corpse in a cupboard.

We knew nothing about this; and as the castle containedsplendid rooms, the ladies amused themselves by dancingand music to make them forget the boredom of theirjourney.

The King looked in upon us every now and then, saying,in a low voice, “Ah! if you only knew what Iknow!”

And then he would go off, laughing in his sleeve. We did not get to know about this corpse until fiveor six days afterwards, when we were a long way off,and the discovery greatly shocked us.

The day we left Sainte Marie aux Mines, a little Germansovereign came to present his homage to the King. It was the Prince de Mont-Beliard, of Wurtemberg,whom I had previously met in Paris, on the occasionof his marriage with Marechal de Chatillon’scharming daughter. The luxurious splendour ofSaint Germain and Versailles had certainly not yetsucceeded in turning the heads of these German sovereigns. This particular one wore a large buff doublet withbig copper-gilt buttons. His cravat was withouteither ribbons or lace. His rather short hairwas roughly combed over his forehead; he carried nosword, and instead of gold buckles or clasps, he hadlittle bows of red leather on his black velvet shoes.His coach, entirely black, was still of old-fashionedmake; that is to say, studded with quantities of giltnails. Wearing mourning for the Empress, hissix horses were richly, caparisoned, his four lackeyswearing yellow liveries faced with red. An escortof twenty guardsmen, dressed similarly, was in attendance;they seemed to be well mounted, and were handsomefellows.

A second carriage of prodigious size followed theducal conveyance; in this were twelve ladies and gentlemen,who got out and made their obeisance to the King andQueen.

The Prince de Mont-Beliard did not get into his coachagain until ours were in motion. He spoke Frenchfairly well, and the little he said was said withmuch grace. He looked very hard at me, whichshocked the Queen greatly, but not the King.

A little further on, their Majesties were greetedby the delegates of the noble chapter of Strasburg. These comprised the Count of Manderhall and two canons. What canons, too! And how astonished we were!

The old Count was dressed in a black cassock, andhis hair looked somewhat like a cleric’s, buthis cravat was tied with a large flame-coloured bow,and he wore ill-fitting hose of the same hue. As for the two canons, they were pleasant young men,good-looking and well-made. Their light graydress was edged with black and gold; they wore theirhair long in wavy curls, and in their little blackvelvet caps they had yellow and black feathers, andtheir silver-mounted swords were like those worn byour young courtiers. Their equipment was farsuperior to that of the deputation of the Prince deMont-Beliard. It is true, they were churchmen,and churchmen have only themselves and their personalsatisfaction to consider.

These gentlemen accompanied us as far as Chatenoi,a little town in their neighbourhood, and here theyintroduced the bailiff of the town to the King, whowas to remain constantly in attendance and act as interpreter.

The bailiff spoke French with surprising ease. He had been formerly tutor at President Tambonneaux’s,an extremely wealthy man, who entertained the Court,the town, and all the cleverest men of the day.The King soon became friends with the bailiff, andkept him the whole time close to his carriage.

When travelling, the King is quite another man. He puts off his gravity of demeanour, and likes toamuse his companions, or else make his companionsamuse him. Believing him to be like Henri IV.in temper, the bailiff was for asking a thousand questions. Some of these the King answered; to others he gaveno reply.

“Sire,” said he to his Majesty, “yourtown of Paris has a greater reputation than it actuallydeserves. They say you are fond of building;then Paris ought to have occasion to remember yourreign. Allow me to express a hope that her principalstreets will be widened, that her temples, most ofthem of real beauty, may be isolated. You shouldadd to the number of her bridges, quays, public baths,almshouses and infirmaries.”

The King smiled. “Come and see us in fouror five years,” he rejoined, “or beforethat, if you like, and if your affairs permit you todo so. You will be pleased to see what I havealready done.”

Then the bailiff, approaching my carriage window,addressed a few complimentary remarks to myself.

“I have often met your father, M. de Mortemart,”said he, “at President Tambonneaux’s. One day the little De Bouillons were there, quarrellingabout his sword, and to the younger he said, ’You,sir, shall go into the Church, because you squint. Let my sword alone; here’s my rosary.’”

“Well,” quoth the King, “M. de Mortemartwas a true prophet, for that little Bouillon fellowis to-day Cardinal de Bouillon.”

“Sire,” continued the worthy German, “Iam rejoiced to hear such news. And little Peguilainde Lauzun, of whom you used to be so fond when youwere both boys,—­where is he? Whatrank does he now hold?”

Hereupon the King looked at Mademoiselle, who, greatlyconfused, shed tears.

“Well, M. Bailiff,” said his Majesty,“did you easily recognise me at first sight?”

“Sire,” replied the German, “yourphysiognomy is precisely the same; when a boy, youlooked more serious. The day you entered Parliamentin hunting-dress I saw you get into your coach; andthat evening the President said to his wife, ’Madame,we are going to have a King. I wish you couldhave been there, in one of the domes, just to hearthe little he said to us.’”

Whereupon the King laughingly inquired what replythe President’s wife made. But the bailiff,smiling in his turn, seemed afraid to repeat it, andso his Majesty said:

“I was told of her answer at the time, so Ican let you know what it was. ‘Your youngKing will turn out a despot.’ That is whatMadame la Presidente said to her husband.”

The bailiff, somewhat confused, admitted that thiswas exactly the case.

The huge bridge at Brisach, across the Rhine, hadno railing; the planks were in a rickety condition,and through fissures one caught sight of the impetuousrush of waters below. We all got out of our coachesand crossed over with our eyes half shut, so dangerousdid it seem; while the King rode across this wretchedbridge,—­one of the narrowest and loftiestthat there is, and which is always in motion.

Next day the Bishop of Bale came to pay his respectsto the Queen, and was accompanied by delegates fromthe Swiss cantons, and other notabilities. Afterthis I heard the “General of the Capucins”announced, who had just been to pay a visit of greetingto the German Court. He was said to be by birtha Roman. Strange to say, for that Capucin thesame ceremony and fuss was made as for a sovereignprince, and I heard that this was a time-honouredprivilege enjoyed by his Order. The monk himselfwas a fine man, wearing several decorations; his carriage,livery, and train seemed splendid, nor did he lackease of manner nor readiness of conversation. He told us that, at the imperial palace in Vienna,he had seen the Princesse d’Inspruck,—­arelative of the French Queen, and that the Emperorwas bringing her up as if destined one day to be hisseventh bride, according to a prediction. Healso stated that the Emperor had made the young Princesssing to him,—­a Capucin monk; and addedgenially that she was comely and graceful, and thathe had been very pleased to see her.

The King was very merry at this priest’s expense. Not so the Queen, who was Spanish, and particularlydevoted to Capucin friars of all nationalities.

CHAPTER XLVII.

Moliere.—­Racine.—­Their MutualEsteem.—­Racine in Mourning.

The King had not much leisure, yet occasionally hegave up half an hour or an hour to the society ofa chosen few,—­men famous for their wit andbrilliant talents. One day he was so kind asto bring to my room the celebrated Moliere, to whomhe was particularly attached and showed special favour. “Madame,” said the King, “here yousee the one man in all France who has most wit, mosttalent, and most modesty and good sense combined. I thank God for letting him be born during my reign,and I pray that He may preserve him to us for a longwhile yet.”

As I hastened to add my own complimentary remarksto those of the King, I certainly perceived that aboutthis illustrious person there was an air of modestyand simplicity such as one does not commonly find inApollo’s favourites who aspire to fame. Moreover, he was most comely.

Moliere told the King that he had just sketched outthe plot of his “Malade Imaginaire,” andassured us that hypochondriacs themselves would findsomething to laugh at when it was played. Hespoke very little about himself, but at great length,and with evident admiration, about the young poetRacine.

The King asked if he thought that Racine had strengthsufficient to make him the equal of Corneille. “Sire,” said the comic poet, “Racinehas already surpassed Corneille by the harmoniouselegance of his versification, and by the natural,true sensibility of his dialogue; his situations arenever fictitious; all his words, his phrases, comefrom the heart. Racine alone is a true poet,for he alone is inspired.”

The King, continuing, said: “I cannot witnesshis tragedy of ‘Berenice’ without sheddingtears. How comes it that Madame Deshoulieresand Madame de Sevigne, who have so much mind, refuseto recognise beauties which strike a genius such asyours?”

“Sire,” replied Moliere, “my opinionis nothing compared to that which your Majesty hasjust expressed, such is your sureness of judgment andyour tact. I know by experience that those scenesof my comedies which, at a first reading, are applaudedby your Majesty, always win most applause from thepublic afterwards.”

“Is Racine in easy circ*mstances?” askedthe King.

“He is not well off,” replied Moliere,“but the tragedies which he has in his portfoliowill make a rich man of him some day; of that I havenot the least doubt.”

“Meanwhile,” said the King, “takehim this draft of six thousand livres from me, norshall this be the limit of my esteem and affection.”

Five or six months after this interview, poor Molierebroke a blood-vessel in his chest, while playing withtoo great fervour the title part in his “MaladeImaginaire.” When they brought the newsto the King, he turned pale, and clasping his handstogether, well-nigh burst into tears. “Francehas lost her greatest genius,” he said beforeall the nobles present. “We shall neverhave any one like him again; our loss is irreparable!”

When they came to tell us that the Paris clergy hadrefused burial to “the author of ‘Tartuffe,’”his Majesty graciously sent special orders to theArchbishop, and with a royal wish of that sort theywere obliged to comply, or else give good reasonsfor not doing so.

Racine went into mourning for Moliere. The Kingheard this, and publicly commended such an act ofgood feeling and grateful sympathy.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

Madame de Montausier and the Phantom.—­WhatShe Exacts from the Marquise.—­Her Reproachesto the Duke.—­Bossuet’s Complacency.

Those spiteful persons who told the Queen how obligingthe duch*esse de Montausier had shown herself towardsme were also so extremely kind as to write an accountof the whole affair to the Marquis de Montespan.

At that time he was still in Paris, and one day hewent to the duch*ess just as she was getting out ofbed. In a loud voice he proceeded to scold her,daring to threaten her as if she were some common woman;in fact, he caught hold of her and endeavoured tostrike her.

The King would not allow M. de Montausier to obtainredress from the Marquis for such an insult as this. He granted a large pension to the duch*ess, and appointedher husband preceptor to the Dauphin.

Such honours and emoluments partly recompensed theduch*ess, yet they scarcely consoled her. Sheconsidered that her good name was all but lost, andwhat afflicted her still more was that she never recoveredher health. She used to visit me, as our dutiesbrought us together, but it was easy to see that confidenceand friendship no longer existed.

One day, when passing along one of the castle corridors,which, being so gloomy, need lamplight at all hours,she perceived a tall white phantom, which glared hideouslyat her, and then approaching, vanished. She wasutterly prostrated, and on returning to her apartmentswas seized with fever and shivering. The doctorsperceived that her brain was affected; they orderedpalliatives, but we soon saw that there was no countingupon their remedies. She was gradually sinking.

Half an hour before she died the duch*ess sent forme, having given instructions that we should be leftalone, and that there should be no witnesses. Her intense emaciation was pitiful, and yet her facekept something of its pleasant expression.

“It is because of you, and through you,”she exclaimed in a feeble, broken voice, “thatI quit this world while yet in the prime of life.God calls me; I must die.

“Kings are so horribly exacting. Everythingthat ministers to their passions seems feasible tothem, and righteous folk must consent to do theirpleasure, or suffer the penalty of being disgracedand neglected, and of seeing their long years of servicelost and forgotten.

“During that unlucky journey in Brabant, yousought by redoubling your coquetry and fascinationsto allure La Valliere’s lover. You managedto succeed; he became fond of you. Knowing myhusband’s ambitious nature, he easily got himto make me favour this intrigue, and lend my apartmentsas a meeting-place.

“At Court nothing long remains a secret. The Queen was warned, and for a while would not believeher informants. But your husband, with brutalimpetuousness, burst in upon me. He insultedme in outrageous fashion. He tried to drag meout of bed and throw me out of the window. Hearingme scream, my servants rushed in and rescued me, ina fainting state, from his clutches. And youit is who have brought upon me such scandalous insults.

“Ready to appear before my God, who has alreadysummoned me by a spectre, I have a boon to ask ofyou, Madame la Marquise. I beg it of you, asI clasp these strengthless, trembling hands. Do not deny me this favour, or I will cherish implacableresentment, and implore my Master and my Judge tovisit you with grievous punishment.

“Leave the King,” she continued, afterdrying her tears. “Leave so sensual abeing; the slave of his passions, the ravisher of others’good. The pomp and grandeur which surround youand intoxicate you would seem but a little thing didyou but look at them as now I do, upon my bed of death.

“The Queen hates me; she is right. Shedespises me, and justly, too. I shall elude herhatred and disdain, which weigh thus heavily upon myheart. Perhaps she may deign to pardon me whenmy lawyer shall have delivered to her a document,signed by myself, containing my confession and excuses.”

As she uttered these words, Madame de Montausier beganto vomit blood, and I had to summon her attendants. With a last movement of the head she bade me farewell,and I heard that she called for her husband.

Next day she was dead. Her waiting-maid cameto tell me that the duch*ess, conscious to the last,had made her husband promise to resign his appointmentas governor to the Dauphin, and withdraw to his estates,where he was to do penance. M. de Meaux, a friendof the family, read the prayers for the dying, towhich the duch*ess made response, and three minutesbefore the final death-throe, she consented to lethim preach a funeral sermon in eulogy of herself andher husband.

When printed and published, this discourse was thoughtto be a fine piece of eloquence.

Over certain things the Bishop passed lightly, whileexaggerating others. Some things, again, wereentirely of his own invention; and if from the depthsof her tomb the duch*ess could have heard all that M.de Meaux said about her, she never would have borneme such malice, nor would her grief at leaving lifeand fortune have troubled her so keenly.

The King thought this funeral oration excellentlywell composed. Of one expression and of onewhole passage, however, he disapproved, though whichthese were he did not do me the honour to say.

BOOK 4.

CHAPTER XLIX.

President de Nesmond.—­Melladoro.—­AComplacent Husband and His Love-sick Wife.—­TragicSequel.

President de Nesmond—­upright, clear-headedmagistrate as he was—­was of very greatservice to me at the Courts of Justice. He alwaysmanaged to oblige me and look after my interests andmy rights in any legal dispute of mine, or when Ihad reason to fear annoyance on the part of my husband.

I will here relate the grief that his young wife causedhim, and it will be seen that, by the side of thispoor President, M. de Montespan might count himselflucky. Having long been a widower, he was insome measure accustomed to this state, until lovelaid a snare for him just at the age of sixty-five.

In the garden that lay below his windows—­agarden owned by his neighbour, a farmer—­hesaw Clorinde. She was this yeoman’s onlydaughter. He at once fell passionately in lovewith her, as David once loved Bathsheba.

The President married Clorinde, who was very pleasedto have a fine name and a title. But her husbandsoon saw—­if not with surprise, at leastwith pain—­that his wife did not love him. A young and handsome Spaniard, belonging to the SpanishLegation, danced one day with Clorinde; to her heseemed as radiant as the god of melody and song.She lost her heart, and without further delay confessedto him this loss.

On returning home, the President said to his youthfulconsort, “Madame, every one is noticing andcensuring your imprudent conduct; even the young Spaniardhimself finds it compromising.”

“Nothing you say can please me more,”she replied, “for this proves that he is awareof my love. As he knows this, and finds my looksto his liking, I hope that he will wish to see meagain.”

Soon afterwards there was a grand ball given at theSpanish Embassy. Madame de Nesmond managed tosecure an invitation, and went with one of her cousins. The young Spaniard did the honours of the evening,and showed them every attention.

As the President was obliged to attend an all-nightsitting at the Tourelle,—­[The parliamentarycriminal court.]—­and as these young ladiesdid not like going home alone,—­for theirresidence was some way off,—­the young Spaniardhad the privilege of conducting them to their coachand of driving back with them. After cards anda little music, they had supper about daybreak; andwhen the President returned, at five o’clock,he saw Melladoro, to whom he was formally introducedby madame.

The President’s welcome was a blend of surprise,anger, forced condescension, and diplomatic politeness. All these shades of feeling were easily perceivedby the Spaniard, who showed not a trace of astonishment. This was because Clorinde’s absolute sway overher husband was as patent as the fact that, in hisown house, the President was powerless to do as heliked.

Melladoro, who was only twenty years old, thoughthe had made a charming conquest. He asked tobe allowed to present his respects occasionally, whenClorinde promptly invited him to do so, in her husband’sname as well as in her own.

It was now morning, and he took leave of the ladies. Two days after this he reappeared; then he came fiveor six times a week, until at last it was settledthat a place should be laid for him every day at thePresident’s table.

That year it was M. de Nesmond’s turn to presideat the courts during vacation-time. He pleadedurgent motives of health, which made it imperativefor him to have country air and complete rest. Another judge consented to forego his vacation andtake his place on the bench for four months; so M.de Nesmond was able to leave Paris.

When the time came to set out by coach, madame wentoff into violent hysterics; but the magistrate, backedup by his father-in-law, showed firmness, and theyset out for the Chateau de Nesmond, about thirty leaguesfrom Paris.

M. de Nesmond found the country far from enjoyable. His wife, who always sat by herself in her dressing-gownand seldom consented to see a soul, on more than oneoccasion left her guests at table in order to sulkand mope in her closet.

She fell ill. During her periods of sufferingand depression, she continually mentioned the Spaniard’sname. Failing his person, she desired to havehis portrait. Alarmed at his wife’s condition,the President agreed to write a letter himself tothe author of all this trouble, who soon sent thelady a handsome sweetmeat-box ornamented with hiscrest and his portrait.

At the sight of this, Clorinde became like anotherwoman. She had her hair dressed and put on asmart gown, to show the portrait how deeply enamouredshe was of the original.

“Monsieur,” she said to her husband, “Iam the only daughter of a wealthy man, who, when hegave me to a magistrate older than himself, did notintend to sacrifice me. You have been young,no doubt, and you, therefore, ought to know how revoltingto youth, all freshness and perfume, are the cuddlingsand caresses of decrepitude. As yet I do notdetest you, but it is absolutely impossible to loveyou. On the contrary, I am in love with Melladoro;perhaps in your day you were as attractive as he is,and knew how to make the most of what you then possessed. Now, will you please me by going back to Paris? I shall be ever so grateful to you if you will. Or must you spend the autumn in this gloomy abodeof your ancestors? To show myself obedient, Iwill consent; only in this case you must send yoursecretary to the Spanish Legation, and your coach-and-six,to bring Melladoro here without delay.”

At this speech M. de Nesmond could no longer hidehis disgust, but frankly refused to entertain sucha proposal for one moment. Whereupon, his wifegave way to violent grief. She could neithereat nor sleep, and being already in a weakly state,soon developed symptoms which frightened her doctors.

M. de Nesmond was frightened too, and at length senthis rival a polite and pressing invitation to comeand stay at the chateau.

This state of affairs went on for six whole years,during which time Madame de Nesmond lavished uponher comely paramour all the wealth amassed by herfrugal, orderly spouse.

At last the President could stand it no longer, butwent and made a bitter complaint to the King. His Majesty at once asked the Spanish Ambassadorto have Melladoro recalled.

At this news, Clorinde was seized with violent convulsions;so severe, indeed, was this attack, that her wretchedhusband at once sought to have the order rescinded. But as it transpired, the King’s wish had beeninstantly complied with, and the unwelcome news hadto be told to Clorinde.

“If you love me,” quoth she to her husband,“then grant me this last favour, after which,I swear it, Clorinde will never make further appealto your kind-heartedness. However quick theyhave been, my young friend cannot yet have reachedthe coast. Let me have sight of him once more;let me give him a lock of my hair, a few loving wordsof advice, and one last kiss before he is lost tome forever.”

So fervent was her pleading and so profuse her tears,that M. de Nesmond consented to do all. Hiscoach-and-six was got ready there and then. Anhour before sunset the belfries of Havre came in sight,and as it was high tide, they drove right up to theharbour wharf.

The ship had just loosed her moorings, and was glidingout to sea. Clorinde could recognise Melladorostanding amid the passengers on deck. Half fainting,she stretched out her arms and called him in a piteousvoice. Blushing, he sought to hide behind hiscompanions, who all begged him to show himself. By means of a wherry Clorinde soon reached the frigate,and the good-natured sailors helped her to climb upthe side of the vessel. But in her agitationand bewilderment her foot slipped, and she fell intothe sea, whence she was soon rescued by several ofthe pluckiest of the crew.

As she was being removed to her carriage, the vesselsailed out of harbour. M. de Nesmond took alarge house at Havre, in order to nurse her with greaterconvenience, and had to stop there for a whole month,his wife being at length brought back on a litter toParis.

Her convalescence was but an illusion after all. Hardly had she reached home when fatal symptoms appeared;she felt that she must die, but showed little concernthereat. The portrait of the handsome Spaniardlay close beside her on her couch. She smiledat it, besought it to have pity on her loneliness,or scolded it bitterly for indifference, and for goingaway.

A short time before her death, she sent for her husbandand her father, to whom she entrusted the care ofher three children.

“Monsieur,” said she to the Presidentde Nesmond, “be kind to my son; he has a rightto your name and arms, and though he is my living image,dearest Theodore is your son.” Then turningto her father, who was weeping, she said briefly,“All that to-day remains to you of Clorindeare her two daughters.

“Pray love them as you loved me, and be morestrict with them than you were with me. M. deNesmond owes these orphans nothing. All thatMelladoro owes them is affection. Tell him, Ipray you, of my constancy and of my death.”

Such was the sad end of a young wife who committedno greater crime than to love a man who was agreeableand after her own heart. M. de Nesmond was justenough to admit that, in ill-assorted unions, goodsense or good nature must intervene, to ensure thatthe one most to be pitied receive indulgent treatmentat the hands of the most culpable, if the latter bealso the stronger of the two.

CHAPTER L.

Madame de Montespan’s Children and Those ofLa Valliere.—­Monsieur le Dauphin.

I had successively lost the first and second Comtede Vegin; God also chose to take Mademoiselle de Toursfrom me, who (in what way I know not) was in featuresthe very image of the Queen. Her Majesty wastold so, and desired to see my child, and when sheperceived how striking was the resemblance, she tooka fancy to the charming little girl, and requestedthat she might frequently be brought to see her. Such friendliness proved unlucky, for the Infanta,as is well known, has never been able to rear oneof her children,—­a great pity, certainly,for she has had five, all handsome, well-made, andof gracious, noble mien, like the King.

In the case of Mademoiselle de Tours, the Queen managedto conquer her dislike, and also sent for the Ducdu Maine. Despite her affection for M. le Dauphin,she herself admitted that if Monseigneur had the airsof a gentleman, M. le Duc du Maine looked the verytype of a king’s son.

The Duc du Maine, Madame de Maintenon’s specialpupil, was so well trained to all the exigencies ofhis position and his rank, that such premature perfectioncaused him to pass for a prodigy. Than his, nosmile could be more winning and sweet; no one couldcarry himself with greater dignity and ease. He limps slightly, which is a great pity, especiallyas he has such good looks, and so graceful a figure;his lameness, indeed, was entirely the result of anaccident,—­a sad accident, due to teething. To please the King, his governess took him once toAuvez, and twice to the Pyrenees, but neither the watersnor the Auvez quack doctors could effect a cure. At any rate, I was fortunate enough to bring up thishandsome prince, who, if he treat me with ceremony,yet loves me none the less.

Brought up by the Duc de Montausier, a sort of monkishsoldier, and by Bossuet, a sort of military monk,Monsieur le Dauphin had no good examples from whichto profit. Crammed as he is with Latin, Greek,German, Spanish, and Church history, he knows all thatthey teach in colleges, being totally ignorant ofall that can only be learnt at the Court of a king. He has no distinction of manner, no polish or refinementof address; he laughs in loud guffaws, and even raiseshis voice in the presence of his father. Havingbeen born at Court, his way of bowing is not altogetherawkward; but what a difference between his saluteand that of the King! “Monseigneur looksjust like a German prince.” That speechexactly hits him off,—­a portrait sketchedby no other brush than that of his royal father.

Monseigneur, who does not like me, pays me court thesame as any one else. Being very jealous ofthe pretty Comte de Vermandois and his brother, theDuc du Maine, he tries to imitate their elegant manner,but is too stiff to succeed. The Duc du Maineshows him the respect inspired by his governess, butthe Comte de Vermandois, long separated from his mother,has been less coached in this respect, and being thoroughlycandid and sincere, shows little restraint. Often,instead of styling him “Monseigneur,”he calls him merely “Monsieur le Dauphin,”while the latter, as if such a title were common orof no account, looks at his brother and makes no reply.

When I told the King about such petty fraternal tiffs,he said, “With age, all that will disappear;as a man grows taller, he gets a better, broader viewof his belongings.”

M. le Dauphin shows a singular preference for Mademoisellede Nantes, but my daughter, brimful of wit and fun,often makes merry at the expense of her exalted admirer.

Mademoiselle de Blois, the eldest daughter of Madamede la Valliere, is the handsomest, most charming personit is possible to imagine. Her slim, gracefulfigure reminds one of the beautiful goddesses, withwhom poets entertain us; she abounds in accomplishmentsand every sort of charm. Her tender solicitudefor her mother, and their constant close companionship,have doubtless served to quicken her intelligence andpenetration.

Like the King, she is somewhat grave; she has thesame large brown eyes, and just his Austrian lip,his shapely hand and well-turned leg, almost his selfsamevoice. Madame de la Valliere, who, in the intervalsof pregnancy, had no bosom to speak of, has shownmarked development in this respect since living atthe convent. The Princess, ever since she attainedthe age of puberty, has always seemed adequately furnishedwith physical charms. The King provided herwith a husband in the person of the Prince de Conti,a nephew of the Prince de Conde. They are devotedlyattached to each other, being both as handsome as canbe. The Princesse de Conti enjoys the entireaffection of the Queen, who becomes quite uneasy ifshe does not see her for five or six days.

Certain foreign princes proposed for her hand, whenthe King replied that the presence of his daughterwas as needful to him as daylight or the air he breathed.

I have here surely drawn a most attractive portraitof this princess, and I ought certainly to be believed,for Madame de Conti is not fond of me at all. Possibly she looks upon me as the author of her mother’sdisgrace; I shall never be at pains to undeceive her. Until the moment of her departure, Madame de la Valliereused always to visit me. The evening beforeher going she took supper with me, and I certainlyhad no cause to read in her looks either annoyanceor reproach. Mademoiselle de Montpensier, whohappened to call, saw us at table, and stayed to havesome dessert with us. She has often told me afterwardshow calm and serene the duch*ess looked. Onewould never have thought she was about to quit a brilliantCourt for the hair shirt of the ascetic, and all thedeath-in-life of a convent. I grieved for her,I wept for her, and I got her a grand gentleman asa husband.

[This statement is scarcely reconcilable with thefact that Madame de la Valliere remained in a conventuntil her death. This may refer to Mademoisellede Blois, La Valliere’s daughter, who was givenin marriage to the Prince de Conti.—­Editor’snote.]

CHAPTER LI.

Madame de Maintenon’s Character.—­TheQueen Likes Her.—­She Revisits Her Family.—­HerGrandfather’s Papers Restored to Her.

As Madame de Maintenon’s character happenedto please the King, as I have already stated, he allottedher handsome apartments at Court while waiting untilhe could keep her there as a fixture, by conferringupon her some important appointment. She hadthe honour of being presented to the Queen, who paidher a thousand compliments respecting the Duc du Maine’sperfections, being so candid and so good natured asto say:

“You would have been just the person to educateMonseigneur.”

Unwilling to appear as if she slighted the Dauphin’sactual tutors, Madame de Maintenon adroitly repliedthat, as it seemed to her, M. le Dauphin had beenbrought up like an angel.

It is said that I have special talent for sustainingand enlivening a conversation; there is somethingin that, I admit, but to do her justice, I must saythat in this respect Madame de Maintenon is withouta rival. She has quite a wealth of invention;the most arid subject in her hands becomes attractive;while for transitions, her skill is unequalled. Far simpler than myself, she gauges her whole audiencewith a single glance. And as, since her misfortunes,her rule has been never to make an enemy, since theseeasily crop up along one’s path, she is carefulnever to utter anything which could irritate the feelingsor wound the pride of the most sensitive. Herdescriptions are so varied, so vivacious, that theyfascinate a whole crowd. If now and again somelittle touch of irony escapes her, she knows how totemper and even instantly to neutralise this by termsof praise at once natural and simple.

Under the guise of an extremely pretty woman, sheconceals the knowledge and tact of a statesman. I have, moreover, noticed that latterly the Kinglikes to talk about matters of State when she is present. He rarely did this with me.

I think she is at the outset of a successful career. The King made persistent inquiries with regard toher whole family. He has already conferred apetty governorship upon the Comte d’Aubigne,her brother, and the Marquis de la Gallerie, theircousin, has just received the command of a regiment,and a pension.

Madame de Maintenon readily admits that she owes heractual good fortune to myself. I also saw oneof her letters to Madame de Saint-Geran, in whichshe refers to me in terms of gratitude. Sometimes,indeed, she goes too far, even siding with my husband,and condemning what she dares to term my conduct;however, this is only to my face. I have alwaysliked her, and in spite of her affronts, I like herstill; but there are times when I am less tolerant,and then we are like two persons just about to fallout.

The Comte de Toulouse and Mademoiselle de Blois werenot entrusted to her at their birth as the otherswere. The King thought that the additional responsibilityof their education would prove too great for the Marquise.He preferred to enjoy her society and conversation,so my two youngest children were placed in the careof Madame d’Arbon, a friend or stewardess ofM. de Colbert. Not a great compliment, as I takeit.

When, for the second time, Madame de Maintenon tookthe Duc du Maine to Barege, she returned by way ofthe Landes, Guienne, and Poitou. She wishedto revisit her native place, and show her pupil toall her relations. Perceiving that she was amarquise, the instructress of princes, and a personagein high favour, they were lavish of their complimentsand their praise, yet forebore to give her back herproperty.

Knowing that she was a trifle vain about her noblebirth, they made over to her the great family pedigree,as well as a most precious manuscript. Thesepapers, found to be quite correct, included a mostspirited history of the War of the League, writtenby Baron Agrippa d’Aubigne, who might rank asan authority upon the subject, having fought againstthe Leaguers for over fifteen years. Among thesedocuments the King found certain details that hithertohad been forgotten, or had never yet come to light.And as the Baron was Henri IV.’s favourite aide-decamp,every reference that he makes to that good king isof importance and interest.

This manuscript, in the simplest manner possible,set forth the governess’s ancestors. Iam sure she was more concerned about this documentthan about her property.

CHAPTER LII.

The Young Flemish Lady.—­The Sainte-AldegondeFamily.—­The Sage of the Sepulchres.

Just at the time of the conquest of Tournai, a mostamusing thing occurred, which deserves to be chronicled. Another episode may be recorded also, of a gloomiernature.

Directly Tournai had surrendered, and the new outpostswere occupied, the King wished to make his entry intothis important town, which he had long desired tosee. The people and the burghers, although muteand silent, willingly watched the French army andits King march past, but the aristocracy scarcelyshowed themselves at any of the windows, and the fewfolk who appeared here and there on the balconies abstainedfrom applauding the King.

Splendidly apparelled, and riding the loveliest ofmilk-white steeds, his Majesty proceeded upon histriumphant way, surrounded by the flower of Frenchnobility, and scattering money as he went.

Before the Town Hall the procession stopped, whenthe magistrates delivered an address, and gave upto his Majesty the keys of the city in a large enamelledbowl.

When the King, looking calmly contented, was aboutto reply, he observed a woman who had pushed her waythrough the French guardsmen, and staring hard athim, appeared anxious to get close up to him. In fact, she advanced a step or two, and the epithetthat crossed her lips struck the conqueror as beingcoarsely offensive.

“Arrest that woman,” cried the King. She was instantly seized and brought before him.

“Why do you insult me thus?” he askedquickly, but with dignity.

“I have not insulted you,” replied theFlemish lady. “The word that escaped mewas rather a term of flattery and of praise, at leastif it has the meaning which it conveys to us here,in these semi-French parts.”

“Say that word again,” added the King;“for I want everybody to bear witness that Iam just in punishing you for such an insult.”

“Sire,” answered this young woman, “yoursoldiers have destroyed my pasture-lands, my woods,and my crops. Heart-broken, I came here to curseyou, but your appearance at once made me change mymind. On looking closer at you, in spite ofmy grief, I could not help exclaiming, ‘So that’sthe handsome b-----, is it!’”

The grenadiers, being called as witnesses, declaredthat such was in fact her remark. Then the Kingsmiled, and said to the young Flemish lady:

“Who are you? What is your name?”

With readiness and dignity she replied, “Sire,you see before you the Comtesse de Sainte-Aldegonde.”

“Pray, madame,” quoth the King, “beso good as to finish your toilet; I invite you todine with me to-day.”

Madame de Sainte-Aldegonde accepted the honour, anddid in fact dine with his Majesty that day. She was clever, and made herself most agreeable, sothat the King, whose policy it was to win hearts byall concessions possible, indemnified her for alllosses sustained during the war, besides grantingfavours to all her relatives and friends.

The Sainte-Aldegonde family appeared at Court, beinglinked thereto by good services. It is alreadya training-ground for excellent officers and personsof merit.

But for that somewhat neat remark of the Countess’s,all those gentlemen would have remained in povertyand obscurity within the walls or in the suburbs ofTournai.

Some days after this, the King was informed of thearrest of a most dangerous individual, who had beencaught digging below certain ancient aqueducts “witha view to preparing a mine of some sort.” This person was brought in, tied and bound like acriminal; they hustled him and maltreated him. I noticed how he trembled and shed tears.

He was a learned man—­an antiquary. A few days before our invasion he had commenced certainexcavations, which he had been forced to discontinue,and now so great was his impatience that he had beenobliged to go on in spite of the surrounding troops. By means of an old manuscript, long kept by the Druids,as also by monks, this man had been able to discovertraces of an old Roman highroad, and as in the daysof the Romans the tombs of the rich and the greatwere always placed alongside these broad roads, ourgood antiquary had been making certain researchesthere, which for him had proved to be a veritable gold-mine.

Having made confession of all this to the King, hisMajesty set him free, granting him, moreover, completeliberty as regarded the execution of his enterprise.

A few days afterwards he begged to have the honourof presenting to his Majesty some of the objects whichhe had collected during his researches. I waspresent, and the following are the funereal curiositieswhich he showed us:

Having broken open a tomb, he had extracted therefroma large alabaster vase, which still contained theashes of the deceased. Next this urn, carefullysealed up, there was another vase, containing threegold rings adorned with precious stones, two goldspurs, the bit of a battle-horse, very slightly rusted,and chased with silver and gold, a sort of seal withrough coat-of-arms, a necklace of large and very choicepearls, a stylet or pencil for calligraphy, and ahundred gold and silver coins bearing the effigy ofDomitian, a very wicked emperor, who reigned overRome and over Gaul in those days.

When the King had amused himself with examining thesetrinkets, he turned to the antiquary and said, “Isthat all, sir? Why, where is Charon’sflask of wine?”

“Here, your Majesty,” replied the oldman, producing a small flask. “See, thewine has become quite clear.”

With great difficulty the flask was opened; the wineit contained was pale and odourless, but by thosebold enough to taste it, was pronounced delicious.

When overturning the urn in order to empty out theashes and bury them, they noticed an inscription,which the King instantly translated. It ranthus:

“May the gods who guard tombs punish him whobreaks open this mausoleum. The troubles andmisfortunes of Aurelius Silvius have been cruel enoughduring his lifetime; in this tomb at least let himhave peace.”

The worthy antiquary offered me his pearl necklaceand one of the antique rings, but I refused thesewith a look of horror. He sold the coins tothe King, and informed us that his various excavationsand researches had brought him in about one hundredthousand livres up to the present time.

The King said to him playfully, “Mind what youare about, monsieur; that sentence which I translatedfor you is not of a very, reassuring nature.”

“Yet it will not serve to hinder me in my scientificresearches,” replied the savant. “Charon,who by now must be quite a rich man, evidently disdainsall such petty hidden treasures as these. Tome they are most useful.”

Next time we passed through Tournai, I made inquiriesas to this miser, and afterwards informed the King. It appears that he was surprised by robbers whendespoiling one of these tombs. After robbinghim of all that he possessed, they buried him alivein the very, grave where he was digging, so as tosave expense. What a dismal sort of science! What a life, and what a death!

CHAPTER LIII.

The Monks of Sainte Amandine.—­The Princeof Orange Entrapped.—­The Drugged Wine.—­TheAdmirable Judith.

After the furious siege of Conde, which lasted onlyfour days, the King, who had been present, left forSebourg, whence he sent orders for the destructionof the principal forts of Liege, and for the ravagingof the Juliers district. He treated the Neubourgestates in the same ruthless fashion, as the Dukehad abandoned his attitude of neutrality, and hadjoined the Empire, Holland and Spain. All theCleves district, and those between the Meuse and theVahal, were subjected to heavy taxation. Everywhereone saw families in flight, castles sacked, homesteadsand convents in flames.

The Duc de Villa-Hermosa, Governor-General in Flandersfor the King of Spain, and William of Orange, theDutch leader, went hither and thither all over thecountry, endeavouring to rouse the people, and spurthem on to offer all possible resistance to the Kingof France.

These two noble generalissimi even found their wayinto monasteries and nunneries, and carried off theirsilver plate, actually, seizing the consecrated vesselsused for the sacrament, saying that all such thingswould help the good cause.

One day they entered a wealthy Bernardine monastery,where the miraculous tomb of Sainte Amandine was onview. The great veneration shown for this saintin all the country thereabouts had served greatly toenrich the community and bring them in numerous costlyofferings. The chapel wherein the saint’sheart was said to repose was lighted by a huge goldlamp, and on the walls and in niches right up to theceiling were thousands of votive offerings in enamel,silver, and gold. The Duc de Villa-Hermosa (agood Catholic) dared not give orders for the pillageof this holy chapel, but left that to the Prince ofOrange (a good Huguenot).

One evening they came to ask the prior for shelter,who, seeing that he was at the mercy of both armies,had to show himself pleasant to each.

During supper, when the two generals informed himof the object of their secret visit, he clearly perceivedthat the monastery was about to be sacked, and likea man of resource, at once made up his mind. When dessert came, he gave his guests wine that hadbeen drugged. The generals, growing drowsy,soon fell asleep, and the prior at once caused themto be carried off to a cell and placed upon a comfortablebed.

This done, he celebrated midnight mass as usual, andat its close he summoned the whole community, tellingthem of their peril and inviting counsel and advice.

“My brethren,” asked he, “oughtwe not to look upon our prisoners as profaners ofholy places, and serve them in secret and before Godas once the admirable Judith served Holofernes?”

At this proposal there was a general murmur. The assembly grew agitated, but seeing how perilouswas the situation, order was soon restored.

The old monks were of opinion that the two generalsought not yet to be sacrificed, but should be shutup in a subterranean dungeon, a messenger being sentforthwith to the French King announcing their capture.

The young monks protested loudly against such an act,declaring it to be treacherous, disgraceful, felonious. The prior endeavoured to make them listen to reasonand be silent, but the young monks, though in a minority,got the upper hand. They deposed the prior, abusedand assaulted him, and finally flung him into prison. One of them was appointed prior without ballot, andthis new leader, followed by his adherents, rousedthe generals and officiously sent them away.

The prior’s nephew, a young Bernardine, accompaniedby a lay brother and two or three servants, set outacross country that night, and brought informationto the King of all this disorder, begging his Majestyto save his worthy uncle’s life.

At the head of six hundred dragoons, the King hastenedto the convent and at once rescued the prior, sendingthe good old monks of Sainte Amandine to Citeaux,and dispersing the rebellious young ones among theCarthusian and Trappist monasteries. All thetreasures contained in the chapel he had transferredto his camp, until a calmer, more propitious season.

That priceless capture, the Prince of Orange, escapedhim, however, and he was inconsolable thereat, adding,as he narrated the incident, “Were it not thatI feared to bring dishonour upon my name, and sullythe history of my reign and my life, I would havemassacred those young Saint-Bernard monks.”

“What a vile breed they all are!” I cried,losing all patience.

“No, no, madame,” he quickly rejoined,“you are apt to jump from one extreme to theother. It does not do to generalise thus. The young monks at Sainte Amandine showed themselvesto be my enemies, I admit, and for this I shall punishthem as they deserve, but the poor old monks merelydesired my success and advantage. When peaceis declared, I shall take care of them and of theirmonastery; the prior shall be made an abbot. I like the poor fellow; so will you, when you seehim.”

I really cannot see why the King should have takensuch a fancy to this old monk, who was minded to murdera couple of generals in his convent because, forsooth,Judith once slew Holofernes! Judith might havebeen tempted to do that sort of thing; she was a Jewess. But a Christian monk! I cannot get over it!

CHAPTER LIV.

The Chevalier de Rohan.—­He is Born TooLate.—­His Debts.—­Messina Cededto the French.—­The King of Spain MeditatesRevenge.—­The Comte de Monterey.—­Madamede Villars as Conspirator.—­The Picpus Schoolmaster.—­ThePlot Fails.—­Discovery and Retribution.—­Madamede Soubise’s Indifference to the Chevalier’sFate.

Had he been born fifty or sixty years earlier, theChevalier de Rohan might have played a great part. He was one of those men, devoid of restraint andof principle, who love pleasure above all things, andwho would sacrifice their honour, their peace of mind,aye, even the State itself, if such a sacrifice werereally needed, in order to attain their own personalenjoyment and satisfaction.

The year before, he once invited himself to dinnerat my private residence at Saint Germain, and he thengave me the impression of being a madman, or a would-beconspirator. My sister De Thianges noticed thesame thing, too.

The Chevalier had squandered his fortune five or sixyears previously; his bills were innumerable.

Each day he sank deeper into debt, and the King remarked,“The Chevalier de Rohan will come to a bad end;it will never do to go on as he does.”

Instead of keeping an eye upon him, and affectionatelyasking him to respect his family’s honour, thePrince and Princesse de Soubise made as if it weretheir duty to ignore him and blush for him.

Profligacy, debts, and despair drove this unfortunatenobleman to make a resolve such as might never beexpected of any high-born gentleman.

Discontented with their governor, Don Diego de Soria,the inhabitants of Messina had just shaken off theSpanish yoke, and had surrendered to the King of France,who proffered protection and help.

Such conduct on the part of the French Governmentseemed to the King of Spain most disloyal, and hedesired nothing better than to revenge himself. This is how he set about it.

On occasions of this kind it is always the craftywho are sought out for such work. Comte de Montereywas instructed to sound the Chevalier de Rohan uponthe subject, offering him safety and a fortune as hisreward. Pressed into their service there wasalso the Marquise de Villars,—­a franticgambler, a creature bereft of all principle and allmodesty,—­to whom a sum of twenty thousandcrowns in cash was paid over beforehand, with thepromise of a million directly success was ensured. She undertook to manage Rohan and tell him what todo. Certain ciphers had to be used, and to thesethe Marquise had the key. They needed a messengerboth intelligent and trustworthy, and for this missionshe gave the Chevalier an ally in the person of anex-teacher in the Flemish school at Picpus, on theFaubourg Saint Antoine. This man and the Chevalierwent secretly to the Comte de Monterey in Flanders,and by this trio it was settled that on a certainday, at high tide, Admiral van Tromp with his fleetshould anchor off Honfleur or Quillebceuf in Normandy,and that, at a given signal, La Truaumont, the Chevalierde Preaux, and the Chevalier de Rohan were to surrenderto him the town and port without ever striking a singleblow, all this being for the benefit of his Majestythe King of Spain.

But all was discovered. The five culprits wereexamined, when the. Marquise de Villars statedthat the inhabitants of Messina had given them anexample which the King of France had not condemned!

The Marquise and the two Chevaliers were beheaded,while the ex-schoolmaster was hanged. As foryoung La Truaumont, son of a councillor of the Exchequer,he escaped the block by letting himself be throttledby his guards or gaolers, to whom he offered no resistance.

Despite her influence upon the King’s feelings,the Princess de Soubise did not deign to take theleast notice of the trial, and they say that she droveacross the Pont-Neuf in her coach just as the Chevalierde Rohan, pinioned and barefooted, was marching tohis doom.

CHAPTER LV.

The Prince of Orange Captures Bonn.—­TheKing Captures Orange.—­The Calvinists ofOrange Offer Resistance.

Since Catiline’s famous hatred for Consul Cicero,there has never been hatred so deep and envenomedas that of William of Orange for the King. Forthis loathing, cherished by a petty prince for a greatpotentate, various reasons have been given. As for myself, I view things closely and in theirtrue light, and I am convinced that Prince Williamwas actuated by sheer jealousy and envy.

It was affirmed that the King, when intending to givehim as bride Mademoiselle de Blois, his eldest daughterand great favourite, had offered to place him on theDutch throne as independent King, and that to suchgenerous proposals the petty Stadtholder replied, “Iam not pious enough to marry the daughter of a Carmelitenun.” So absurd a proposal as this, however,was never made, for the simple reason that Mademoisellede Blois has never yet been offered in marriage toany prince or noble man in this wide world. Rather than to be parted from her, the King wouldprefer her to remain single. He has often saidas much to me, and there is no reason to doubt hisword.

The little Principality of Orange, which once formedthe estate of this now outlandish family, is situateclose to the Rhone, amid French territory. Thoughdecorated with the title of Sovereignty, like itsneighbour the Principality of Dombes, it is no lessa fief-land of the Crown. In this capacity ithas to contribute to the Crown revenues, and oweshomage and fealty to the sovereign.

Such petty, formal restrictions are very galling tothe arrogant young Prince of Orange, for he is oneof those men who desire, at all cost, to make a noisein the world, and who would set fire to Solomon’sTemple or to the Delphian Temple, it mattered notwhich, so long as they made people talk about them.

After Turenne’s death, there was a good dealof rivalry among our generals. This proved harmfulto the service. The Goddess of Victory discoveredthis, and at times forsook us. Many possessionsthat were conquered had to be given up, and we hadto bow before those whom erst we had humiliated. But Orange was never restored.—­[This waswritten in 1677.]

When, in November, 1673, the Prince of Orange hadthe audacity to besiege Bonn, the residence of ourally, the Prince Elector of Cologne, and to reducethat prelate to the last extremity, the King promptlyseized upon the Principality of Orange; and havingplanted the French flag upon every building, he publisheda general decree, strictly forbidding the inhabitantsto hold any communication whatever with “theirformer petty sovereign,” and ordering prayersto be said for him, Louis, in all their churches. This is a positive fact.

The Roman Catholics readily complied with this royaldecree, which was in conformity with their sympathiesand their interests; but the Protestants waxed furiousthereat. Some of them even carried their devotionto such a pitch that they paid taxes to two masters;that is to say, to Stadtholder William, as well asto his Majesty the King.

The Huguenot “ministers,” or priests,issued pastoral letters in praise of the CalvinistPrince and in abuse of the Most Christian King. They also preached against the new oath of fealty,and committed several most imprudent acts, which theJesuits were not slow to remark and report in Courtcircles.

Such audacity, and the need for its repression, rankleddeep in the King’s heart; and I believe he isquite disposed to pass measures of such extreme severityas will soon deprive the Protestants and Lutheransof any privileges derived from the Edict of Nantes.

From various sources I receive the assurance thathe is preparing to deal a heavy blow anent this; butthe King’s character is impenetrable. Timealone will show.

CHAPTER LVI

The Castle of Bleink-Elmeink.—­Romanticand Extraordinary Discovery.—­An Innocentand Persecuted Wife.—­Madame de Bleink-Elmeinkat Chaillot.

After the siege and surrender of Maestricht, whenthe King had no other end in view than the entireconquest of Dutch Brabant, he took us to this country,which had suffered greatly by the war. Some districtswere wholly devastated, and it became increasinglydifficult to find lodging and shelter for the Court.

The grooms of the chambers one day found for us alarge chateau, situated in a woody ravine, old-fashionedin structure, and surrounded by a moat. Therewas only one drawbridge, flanked by two tall towers,surmounted by turrets and culverins. Its ownerwas in residence at the time. He came to theKing and the Queen, and greeting them in French, placedhis entire property at their disposal.

It had rained in torrents for two days without ceasing. Despite the season, everybody was wet through andbenumbed with cold. Large fires were made inall the huge fireplaces; and when the castle’svast rooms were lighted up by candles, we agreed thatthe architect had not lacked grandeur of conceptionnor good taste when building such large corridors,massive staircases, lofty vestibules, and spacious,resounding rooms. That given to the Queen waslike an alcove, decorated by six large marble caryatides,joined by a handsome balustrade high enough to leanupon. The four-post bed was of azure blue velvet,with flowered work and rich gold and silver tasselling. Over the chimneypiece was the huge Bleink-Elmeinkcoat-of-arms, supported by two tall Templars.

The King’s apartment was an exact reproductionof a room existing at Jerusalem in the time of SaintLouis; this was explained by inscriptions and devicesin Gothic or Celtic.

My room was supposed to be an exact copy of the famousPilate’s chamber, and it was named so; and forthree days my eyes were rejoiced by the detailed spectacleof our Lord’s Passion, from His flagellationto His agony on Calvary.

The Queen came to see me in this room, and did methe honour of being envious of so charming an apartment.

The fourth day, when the weather became fine, we preparedto change our quarters and take to our carriages again,when an extraordinary event obliged us to send a messengerfor the King, who had already left us, and had goneforward to join the army.

An old peasant, still robust and in good health, performedin this gloomy castle the duties of a housekeeper. In this capacity she frequently visited our roomsto receive our orders and satisfy our needs.

Seeing that the Queen’s boxes were being closed,and that our departure was at hand, she came to meand said:

“Madame, the sovereign Lord of Heaven has willedit thus; that the officers of the French King shouldhave discovered as the residence of his Court thiscastle amid gloomy forests and precipices. Thegreat prince has come hither and has stayed here fora brief while, and we have sought to welcome him aswell as we could. He gave the Comte de Bleink-Elmeink,lord of this place and my master, his portrait setin diamonds; he had far better have cut his throat.”

“Good heavens, woman! What is this youtell me?” I exclaimed. “Of whatcrime is your master guilty? He seems to me tobe somewhat moody and unsociable; but his family isof good renown, and all sorts of good things havebeen, told concerning it to the King and Queen.”

“Madame,” replied the old woman, drawingme aside into a window-recess, and lowering her voice,“do you see at the far end of yonder court anold dungeon of much narrower dimensions than the others? In that dungeon lies the good Comtesse de Bleink-Elmeink;she has languished there for five years.”

Then this woman informed me that her master, formerlypage of honour to the Empress Eleanor, had wedded,on account of her great wealth, a young Hungariannoblewoman, by whom he had two children, both of whomwere living. Such was his dislike of their mother,on account of a slight deformity, that for four orfive years he shamefully maltreated her, and at lastshut her up in this dungeon-keep, allowing her dailythe most meagre diet possible.

“When, some few days since, the royal stewardsappeared in front of the moat, and claimed admittance,the Count was much alarmed,” added the peasantwoman. “He thought that all was discovered,and that he was going to suffer for it. It wasnot until the King and Queen came that he was reassured,and he has not been able to hide his embarrassmentfrom any of us.”

“Where are the two children of his marriage?” I asked the old woman, before deciding to act.

“The young Baron,” she answered, “isat Vienna or Ohnutz, at an academy there. Hissister, a graceful, pretty girl, has been in a conventfrom her childhood; the nuns have promised to keepher there, and as soon as she is fourteen, she willtake the veil.”

My first impulse was to acquaint the Queen with theseastounding revelations, but it soon struck me that,to tackle a man of such importance as the Count, wecould not do without the King. I at once sentmy secretary with a note, imploring his Majesty toreturn, but giving no reason for my request. He came back immediately, post-haste, when the housekeeperrepeated to him, word for word, all that I have setdown here. The King could hardly believe hisears.

When coming to a decision, his Majesty never doesso precipitately. He paced up and down the roomtwice or thrice, and then said to me, “The matteris of a rather singular nature; I am unacquainted withlaw, and what I propose to do may one day serve asan example. It is my duty to rescue our unfortunatehostess, and requite her nobly for her hospitality.”

So saying, he sent for the Count, and assuming a careless,almost jocular air, thus addressed him:

“You were formerly page to the Empress Eleanor,I believe, M. le Bleink-Elmeink?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“She is dead, but the Emperor would easily recogniseyou, would he not?”

“I imagine so, Sire.”

“I have thought of you as a likely person tobe the bearer of a message, some one of your age andheight being needed, and of grave, secretive temperament,such as I notice you to possess. Get everythingin readiness, as I intend to send you as courier tohis Imperial Majesty. I am going to write tohim from here, and you shall bring me back his replyto my proposals.”

To be sent off like this was most galling to the Count,but his youth and perfect health allowed him not theshadow of a pretext. He was obliged to packhis valise and start. He pretended to look pleasedand acquiescent, but in his eyes I could detect furyand despair.

Half an hour after his departure, the King had thedrawbridge raised, and then went to inform the Queenof everything.

“Madame,” said he, “you have beensleeping in this unfortunate lady’s nuptialbed. She is now about to be presented to you. I ask that you will receive her kindly, and afterwardsact as her protector, should anything happen to me.”

Tears filled the Queen’s eyes, and she trembledin amazement. The King instantly made for thedungeon, and in default of a key, broke open all thegates. In a few minutes Madame de Bleink-Elmeink,supported by two guards, entered the Queen’spresence, and was about to fling herself at her feet;but the King prevented this. He himself placedher in an armchair, and we others at once formed alarge semicircle round her.

She seemed to breathe with difficulty, sighing andsobbing without being able to utter a word. At, length she said to the King in fairly good French,“May my Creator and yours reward you for this,great and unexpected boon! Do not forsake me,Sire, now that you have broken my fetters, but letyour might protect me against the unjust violence ofmy husband; and permit me to reside in France in whateverconvent it please you to choose. My august liberatorshall become my lawful King, and under his rule Idesire to live and die.”

In spite of her sorrow, Madame de Bleink-Elmeink didnot appear to be more than twenty-eight or thirtyyears old. Her large blue eyes, though she hadwept, much, were still splendid, and her high-bredfeatures denoted nobility and beauty of soul. To such a charming countenance her figure scarcelycorresponded; one side of her was slightly deformed,yet. this did not interfere with the grace of herattitude when seated, nor her agreeable deportment.

Directly she saw her, the Queen liked her. Shelooked half longingly at the Countess, and then risingapproached her and held out her hand to be kissed,saying, “I mean to love you as if you were oneof my own family; you shall be placed at Val-de-Grace,and I will often come and see you.”

Recovering herself somewhat, the Countess sank onher knees and kissed the Queen’s hand in a transportof joy. We, led her to her room, where she tooka little refreshment and afterwards slept until thefollowing day. All her servants and gardenerscame to express their gladness at her deliverance;and in order to keep her company, the Queen decidedto stay another week at the castle. The Countessthen set out for Paris, and it was arranged that sheshould have the apartments at Chaillot, once constructedby the Queen of England.

As for her dreadful husband, the King gave him plentyto do, and he did not see his wife again for a goodlong while.

CHAPTER LVII.

The Silver Chandelier.—­The King Holds theLadder.—­The Young Dutchman.

One day the King was passing through some of the largerooms of the palace, at a time of the morning whenthe courtiers had not yet made their appearance, andwhen carpenters and workmen were about, each busyin getting his work done.

The King noticed a workman of some sort standing tiptoeon a double ladder, and reaching up to unhook a largechandelier from the ceiling. The fellow seemedlikely to break his neck.

“Be careful,” cried the King; “don’tyou see that your ladder is a short one and is oncastors? I have just come in time to help youby holding it.”

“Monsieur,” said the man, “a thousandpardons, but if you will do so, I shall be much obliged. On account of this ambassador who is coming today,all my companions have lost their heads and have leftme alone.”

Then he unhooked the large crystal and silver chandelier,stepped down carefully, leaning on the King’sshoulder, who graciously allowed him to do so. After humbly thanking him, the fellow made off.

That night in the chateau every one was talking aboutthe hardihood of some thief who in sight of everybodyhad stolen a handsome chandelier; the Lord High Provosthad already been apprised of the matter. TheKing began to smile as he said out loud before everyone, “I must request the Lord High Provost tobe good enough to hush the matter up, as in cases oftheft accomplices are punished as well, and it wasI who held the ladder for the thief.”

Then his Majesty told us of the occurrence, as alreadynarrated, and every one was convinced that the thiefcould not be a novice or an apprentice at his craft. Inquiries were instantly made, since so bold an attemptcalled for exemplary punishment. All the upholsterersof the castle wished to give themselves up as prisoners;their honour was compromised. It would be hardto describe their consternation, being in truth honestfolk.

When the Provost respectfully asked the King if hehad had time to notice the culprit’s features,his Majesty replied that the workman in question wasa young fellow of about five-and-twenty, fair complexioned,with chestnut hair, and pleasant features of delicate,almost feminine cast.

At this news, all the dark, plain men-servants wereexultant; the good-looking ones, however, were filledwith fear.

Among the feutiers, whose sole duty it is to attendto the fires and candles in the royal apartments,there was a nice-looking young Dutchman, whom hiscompanions pointed out to the Provost. They enteredhis room while he was asleep, and found in his cupboardthe following articles: Two of the King’slace cravats, two shirts marked with a double L andthe crown, a pair of pale blue velvet shoes embroideredwith silver, a flowered waistcoat, a hat with whiteand scarlet plumes, other trifles, and splendid portraitof the King, evidently part of some bracelet. As regarded the chandelier, nothing was discovered.

When this young foreigner was taken to prison, herefused to speak for twenty-four hours, and in allVersailles there was but one cry,—­“They’vecaught the thief!”

Next day matters appeared in a new light. TheProvost informed his Majesty that the young servantarrested was not a Dutchman, but a very pretty Dutchwoman.

At the time of the invasion, she was so unlucky asto see the King close to her father’s house,and conceived so violent a passion for him that sheat once forgot country, family, friends,—­everything. Leaving the Netherlands with the French army, shefollowed her conqueror back to his capital, and bydint of perseverance managed to secure employment inthe royal palace. While there, her one delightwas to see the King as often as possible, and to listento praise of his many noble deeds.

“The articles found in my possession,”said she to the Provost, “are most dear andprecious to me; not for their worth, but because theyhave touched the King’s person. I didnot steal them from his Majesty; I could not do sucha thing. I bought them of the valets de chambre,who were by right entitled to such things, and whowould have sold them indiscriminately to any one else. The portrait was not sold to me, I admit, but I gotit from Madame la Marquise de Montespan, and in thisway: One day, in the parterres, madame droppedher bracelet. I had the good fortune to pickit up, and I kept it for three or four days in myroom. Then bills were posted up in the park,stating that whoever brought the bracelet to madameshould receive a reward of ten louis. I tookback the ornament, for its pearls and diamonds didnot tempt me, but I kept the portrait instead of theten louis offered.”

When the King asked me if I recollected the occurrence,I assured him that everything was perfectly true. Hereupon the King sent for the girl, who was immediatelybrought to his chamber. Such was her modesty,and confusion that she dared not raise her eyes fromthe ground. The King spoke kindly to her, andgave her two thousand crowns to take her back to herown home. The Provost was instructed to restoreall these different articles to her, and as regardedmyself, I willingly let her have the portrait, thoughit was worth a good deal more than the ten louis mentioned.

When she got back to her own country and the newsof her safe arrival was confirmed, the King sent hertwenty thousand livres as a dowry, which enabledher to make a marriage suitable to her good-natureddisposition and blameless conduct.

She made a marked impression upon his Majesty, andhe was often wont to speak about the chandelier onaccount of her, always alluding to her in kindly,terms. If ever he returns to Holland, I am surehe will want to see her, either from motives of attachmentor curiosity. Her name, if I remember rightly,was Flora.

CHAPTER LVIII.

The Observatory.—­The King Visits the Carthusians.—­Howa Painter with His Brush May Save a Convent.—­TheGuilty Monk.—­Strange Revelations.—­TheKing’s Kindness.—­The Curate of SaintDomingo.

When it was proposed to construct in Paris that handsomebuilding called the Observatory, the King himselfchose the site for this. Having a map of hiscapital before him, he wished this fine edifice tobe in a direct line of perspective with the Luxembourg,to which it should eventually be joined by the demolitionof the Carthusian Monastery, which filled a largegap.

The King was anxious that his idea should be carriedout, but whenever he mentioned it to M. Mansard andthe other architects, they declared that it was agreat pity to lose Lesueur’s admirable frescosin the cloisters, which would have to be destroyedif the King’s vast scheme were executed.

One day his Majesty resolved to see for himself, andwithout the least announcement of his arrival, hewent to the Carthusian Monastery in the Rue d’Enfer. The King has great knowledge of art; he admired thewhole series of wall-paintings, in which the lifeof Saint Bruno is divinely set forth.

[By a new process these frescos were subsequentlytransferred to canvas in 1800 or 1802, at which datethe vast property of the Carthusian monks became partof the Luxembourg estates.—­Editor’snote.]

“Father,” said he to the prior who showedhim round, “these simple, touching picturesare far beyond all that was ever told me. Myintention, I admit, was to move your institution elsewhere,so as to connect your spacious property with my palaceof the Luxembourg, but the horrible outrage whichwould have to be committed deters me; to the marvellousart of Lesueur you owe it that your convent remainsintact.”

The monk, overjoyed, expressed his gratitude to theKing, and promised him the love and guardianship ofSaint Bruno in heaven.

Just then, service in the chapel was over, and themonks filed past two and two, never raising theireyes from the gloomy pavement bestrewn with tombstones. The prior, clapping his hands, signalled them to stop,and then addressed them:

“My brethren, stay your progress a moment; liftup your heads, bowed down by penance, and behold withawe the descendant of Saint Louis, the august protectorof this convent. Yes, our noble sovereign himselfhas momentarily quitted his palace to visit this humbleabode. On these quiet walls which hide our cells,he has sought to read the simple, touching story,of the life of our saintly founder. The augustson of Louis the Just has taken our dwelling-placeand community under his immediate protection. Go to your cells and pray to God for this magnanimousprince, for his children and successors in perpetuity.”

As he said these flattering words, a monk, with flushedcheeks and mouth agape, flung himself down at theKing’s feet, beating his brow repeatedly uponthe pavement, and exclaiming:

“Sire, forgive me, forgive me, guilty thoughI be. I crave your royal pardon and pity.”

The prior, somewhat confused, saw that some importantconfession was about to be made, so he dismissed theothers, and sent them back to their devotions. The prostrate monk, however, never thought of movingfrom his position. Perceiving that he was alonewith the King, whose calm, gentle demeanour emboldenedhim, he begged anew for pardon with great energy,and fervour. The King clearly saw that the penitentwas some great evil-doer, and he promised forgivenessin somewhat ambiguous fashion. Then the monkrose and said:

“Your Majesty reigns to-day, and reigns gloriously. That is an amazing miracle, for countless incredibledangers of the direst sort have beset your cradleand menaced your youth. A prince of your house,backed up by ambitious inferiors, resolved to wrestthe crown from you, in order to get it for himselfand his descendants. The Queen, your mother,full of heroic resolution, herself had energy enoughto resist the cabal; but more than once her feet touchedthe very brink of the precipice, and more than onceshe nearly fell over it with her children.

“Noble qualities did this great Queen possess,but at times she had too overweening a contempt forher enemies. Her disdain for my master, theyoung Cardinal, was once too bitter, and begot in thispresumptuous prelate’s heart undying hatred. Educated under the same roof as M. le Cardinal, withthe same teachers and the same doctrines, I saw, asit were, with his eyes when I went out into the world,and marched beneath his banner when civil war brokeout.

“Dreading the punishment for his temerity, thisprelate decided that the sceptre should pass intoother hands, and that the elder branch should becomeextinct. With this end in view, he made me writea pamphlet showing that you and your brother, thePrince, were not the King’s sons; and subsequentlyhe induced me to issue another, in which I affirmedon oath that the Queen, your mother, was secretlymarried to Cardinal Mazarin. Unfortunately,these books met with astounding success, nor, thoughmy tears fall freely, can they ever efface such vilepages.

“I am also guilty of another crime, Sire, andthis weighs more heavily upon my heart. Whenthe Queen-mother dexterously arranged for your removalto Vincennes, she left in your bed at the Louvre alarge doll. The rebels were aware of this whenit was too late. I was ordered to ride post-hastewith an escort in pursuit of your carriage; and I hadto swear by the Holy Gospels that, if I could notbring you back to Paris, I would stab you to the heart.

“The enormity of my offence weighed heavilyupon my spirit and my conscience. I conceiveda horror for the Cardinal and withdrew to this convent. For many years I have undergone the most grievouspenances, but I shall never make thorough expiationfor my sins, and I hold myself to be as great a criminalas at first, so long as I have not obtained pardonfrom my King.”

“Are you in holy orders?” asked the Kinggently.

“No, Sire; I feel unworthy to take them,”replied the Carthusian, in dejected tones.

“Let him be ordained as soon as possible,”said his Majesty to the prior. “The monk’skeen repentance touches me; his brain is still excitable;it needs fresh air and change. I will appointhim to a curacy at Saint Domingo, and desire him toleave for that place at the earliest opportunity. Do not forget this.”

The monk again prostrated himself before the King,overwhelming him with blessings, and these royal commandswere in due course executed. So it came aboutthat Lesueur’s frescos led to startling revelations,and enabled the Carthusians to keep their splendidproperty intact, ungainly though this was and outof place.

CHAPTER LIX.

Journey to Poitou.—­The Mayor and the Sheriffsof Orleans.—­The
Marquise’s Modesty.—­The Serenade.—­TheAbbey of Fontevrault.—­Family
Council.—­Duchomania.—­A Letterto the King.—­The Bishop of
Poitiers.—­The Young Vicar.—­RatherGive Him a Regiment.—­The Fete at the
Convent.—­The Presentation.—­TheRevolt.—­A Grand Example.

The Abbess of Fontevrault, who, when a mere nun, couldnever bear her profession, now loved it with all herheart, doubtless because of the authority and freedomwhich she possessed, being at liberty to go or comeat will, and as absolute mistress of her actions, accountableto no one for these.

She sent me her confidential woman, one of the “travellingsisters” of the community, to tell me privatelythat the Principality of Talmont was going to be sold,and to offer me her help at this important juncture.

Her letter, duly tied up and sealed, begged me tobe bold and use my authority, if necessary, in orderto induce the King at last to give his approval andconsent. “What!” she wrote, “mydear sister; you have given birth to eight children,the youngest of which is a marvel, and you have notyet got your reward. All your children enjoythe rank of prince, and you, their mother, are exemptfrom such distinction! What is the King thinkingabout? Does it add to his dignity, honour, andglory that you should still be merely a petty marquise? I ask again, what is the King thinking of?”

In conclusion my sister invited me to pay a visitto her charming abbey. “We have much totell you,” said she, and “such brief absenceis needful to you, so as to test the King’saffection. Your sort of temperament suits him,your talk amuses him; in fact, your society is absolutelyessential to him; the distance from Versailles to Saumurwould seem to him as far off as the uttermost endof his kingdom. He will send courier upon courierto you; each of his letters will be a sort of entreaty,and you have only just got to express your firm intentionand desire to be created a duch*ess or a princess,and, my dear sister, it will forthwith be done.”

For two days I trained the travelling nun from Fontevraultin her part, and then I suddenly presented her tothe King. She had the honour of explaining tohis Majesty that she had left the Abbess sick and ailing,and informed him that my sister was most anxious tosee me again, and that she hoped his Majesty wouldnot object to my paying her a short visit. Fora moment the King hesitated; then he asked me if Ithought such a change of urgent necessity. Ireplied that the news of Madame de Mortemart’sill-health had greatly affected me, and I promisednot to be away more than a week.

The King accordingly instructed the Marquis de Louvois—­[Ministerof War, and inspector-General of Posts and Relays.]—­tomake all due arrangements for my journey, and twodays afterwards, my sister De Thianges, her daughterthe duch*esse de Nevers, and myself, set out at nightfor Poitiers.

The royal relays took us as far as Orleans, afterwhich we had post-horses, but specially chosen andwell harnessed. Couriers in advance of us hadgiven all necessary orders to the officials and governors,so that we were provided with an efficient militaryescort along the road, and were as safe as if drivingthrough Paris.

At Orleans, the mayor and sheriffs in full dress presentedthemselves at our carriage window, and were aboutto deliver an address “to please the King;”but I thought such a proceeding ill-timed, and my nieceDe Nevers told these magnates that we were travellingincognito.

Crowds collected below our balcony. Madame deThianges thought they were going to serenade me, butI distinctly heard sounds of hissing. My nieceDe Nevers was greatly upset; she would eat no supper,but began to cry. “What are you worryingabout?” quoth I to this excitable young person.“Don’t you see that we are stopping thenight on the estates of the Princess Palatine,—­[Theboorish Bavarian princess, the Duc d’Orleans’ssecond wife. Editor’s note.]—­andthat it is to her exquisite breeding that we owe complimentsof this kind?”

Next morning at daybreak we drove on, and the dayafter we reached Fontevrault. The Abbess, accompaniedby her entire community, came to welcome us at themain gate, and her surpliced chaplains offered me holywater.

After rest and refreshment, we made a detailed surveyof her little empire, and everywhere observed tracesof her good management and tact. Rules had beenmade more lenient, while not relaxed; the revenueshad increased; everywhere embellishments, contentment,and well-being were noticeable.

After praising the Abbess as she deserved, we talkeda little about the Talmont principality. Mysister was inconsolable. The Tremouilles hadcome into property which restored their shattered fortunes;the principality was no longer for sale; all thoughtof securing it must be given up.

Strange to say, I at once felt consoled by such news. Rightly to explain this feeling, I ought, perhaps,to make an avowal. A grand and brilliant titlehad indeed ever been the object of my ambition; butI thought that I deserved such a distinction personally,for my own sake, and I was always wishing that myaugust friend would create a title specially in myfavour. I had often hinted at such a thing invarious ways, and full as he is of wit and penetration,he always listened to my covert suggestions, and wasperfectly aware of my desire. And yet, magnificentlygenerous as any mortal well could be, he never grantedmy wish. Any one else but myself would havebeen tired, disheartened even; but at Court one mustnever be discouraged nor give up the game. Theatmosphere is rife with vicissitude and change. Monotony would seem to have made there its home;yet no day is quite like another. What one hopesfor is too long in coming; and what one never foreseeson, a sudden comes to pass.

We took counsel together as to the best thing to bedone. Madame de Thianges said to me: “Mydear Athenais, you have the elegance of the Mortemarts,the fine perception and ready wit that distinguishesthem, but strangely enough you have not their energy,nor the firm will necessary for the conduct of weightymatters. The King does not treat you like agreat friend, like a distinguished friend, like themother of his son, the Duc du Maine; he treats youlike a province that he has conquered, on which helevies tax after tax; that is all. Pray recollect,my sister, that for ten years you have played a leadingpart on the grand stage. Your beauty, to mysurprise, has been preserved to you, notwithstandingyour numerous confinements and the fatigues of yourposition. Profit by the present juncture, anddo not let the chance slip. You must write tothe King, and on some pretext or other, ask for anotherweek’s leave. You must tell him plainlythat you have been marquise long enough, and thatthe moment has come at last for you to have the ‘imperiale’,

[The distinctive mark of duch*esses was the ‘imperiale’;that is, a rich and costly hammer-cloth of embroideredvelvet, edged with gold, which covered the roofs ofducal equipages.—­Editor’s note.]

and sign your name in proper style.”

Her advice was considered sound, but the Abbess, takinginto account the King’s susceptibility, decidedthat it would not do for me to write myself abouta matter so important as this. The Marquise deThianges, in some way or other, had got the knackof plain speaking, so that a letter of hers wouldbe more readily excused. Thus it was settledthat she should write; and write she did. Igive her letter verbatim, as it will please my readers;and they will agree with me that I could never havetouched this delicate subject so happily myself.

Sire:—­Madame de Montespan had thehonour of writing one or two notes to you during ourjourney, and now she rests all day long in this vastand pleasant abbey, where your Majesty’s nameis held in as great veneration as elsewhere, beingbeloved as deeply as at Versailles. Madame deMortemart has caused one of the best portraits of yourMajesty, done by Mignard, to be brought hither fromParis, and this magnificent personage in royal robesis placed beneath an amaranth-coloured dais, richlyembroidered with gold, at the extreme end of a vasthall, which bears the name of our illustrious andwell-beloved monarch. Your privileges are great,in truth, Sire. Here you are, installed in thispious and secluded retreat, where never mortal mayset foot. Before you, beside you daily, youmay contemplate the multitude of modest virgins wholook at you and admire you, becoming all of them attachedto you without wishing it, perhaps without knowingit, even.

Surely, Sire, your penetration is a most admirablething. After your first interview with her,you considered our dear Abbess to be a woman of capacityand talent. You rightly appreciated her, fornothing can be compared to the perfect order thatprevails in her house. She is active and industriouswithout sacrificing her position and her dignity inthe slightest. Like yourself, she can judgeof things in their entirety, and examine them in everylittle detail; like yourself, she knows how to commandobedience and affection, desiring nothing but thatwhich is just and reasonable. In a word, Sire,Madame de Mortemart has the secret of convincing hersubordinates that she is acting solely in their interests,a supreme mission, in sooth, among men; and my sisterreally has no other desire nor ambition,—­tothis we can testify.

Upon our return, which for our liking can never betoo soon, we will acquaint your Majesty with the slightauthorised mortification which we had to put up withat Orleans. We are in possession of certaininformation regarding this, and your Majesty will haveample means of throwing a light upon the subject. As for the magistrates, they behaved most wonderfully;they had an address all ready for us, but Madame deMontespan would not listen to it, saying that “suchhonours are meet only for you and for your children.” Such modesty on my sister’s part is in keeping

with her great intelligence; I had almost said hergenius. But in this matter I was not whollyof her opinion. It seemed to me, Sire, that,in refusing the homage offered to her by these worthymagnates, she, so to speak, disowned the rank ensuredto her by your favour. While the Marquise enjoysyour noble affection, she is no ordinary personage.She has her seat in your own Chapel Royal, so in travellingshe has a right to special honour. By your choiceof her, you have made her notable; in giving her yourheart, you have made her a part of yourself.By giving birth to your children, she has acquiredher rank at Court, in society, and in history. Your Majesty intends her to be considered and respected;the escorts of cavalry along the highroads are sufficientproof of that.

All France, Sire, is aware of your munificence andof your princely generosity: Shall I tell youof the amazement of the provincials at noticing thatthe ducal housings are absent from my sister’ssplendid coach? Yes, I have taken upon myselfto inform you of this surprise, and knowing how greatlyAthenais desires this omission to be repaired, I wentso far as to promise that your Majesty would causethis to be done forthwith. It must be done,Sire; the Marquise loves you as much as it is possiblefor you to be loved; of this, all that she has sacrificedis a proof. But while dearly loving you, shefears to appear importunate, and were it not for myrespectful freedom of speech, perhaps you would stillbe ignorant of that which she most fervently desires.

What we all three of us ask is but a slight thingfor your Majesty, who, with a single word, can createa thousand nobles and princes. The kings, yourancestors, used their glory in making their loversillustrious. The Valois built temples and palacesin their honour. You, greater than all the Valois,should not let their example suffice. And I amsure that you will do for the mother of the Duc duMaine what the young prince himself would do for herif you should happen to forget.

Your Majesty’s most humble servant, “Marquisede Thianges.”

To the Abbess and myself; this ending seemed rathertoo sarcastic, but Madame de Thianges was most anxiousto let it stand. There was no way of softeningor glossing it over; so the letter went off, just asshe had written it.

It so happened that the Bishop of Poitiers was inhis diocese at the time. He came to pay me avisit, and ask me if I could get an abbey for hisnephew, who, though extremely young, already actedas vicar-general for him. “I would willinglyget him a whole regiment,” I replied, “providedM. de Louvois be of those that are my friends. As for the benefices, they depend, as you know, uponthe Pere de la Chaise, and I don’t think hewould be willing to grant me a favour.”

“Permit me to assure you, madame, that in thisrespect you are in error,” replied the Bishop. “Pere de la Chaise respects you and honoursyou, and only speaks of you in such terms. Whatdistresses him is to see that you have an aversionfor him. Let me write to him, and say that mynephew has had the honour of being presented to you,and that you hoped he might have a wealthy abbey toenable him to bear the privations of his calling.”

The young vicar-general was good-looking, and of gracefulpresence. He had that distinction of manner whichcauses the priesthood to be held in honour, and thatamenity of address which makes the law to be obeyed.My sisters began to take a fancy to him, and recommendedhim to me. I wrote to Pere de la Chaise myself,and instead of a mere abbey, we asked for a bishopricfor him.

It was my intention to organise a brilliant fete forthe Fontevrault ladies, and invite all the nobilityof the neighbourhood. We talked of this to theyoung vicar, who highly approved of my plan, and albeitmonsieur his uncle thought such a scheme somewhat contraryto rule and to what he termed the proprieties, wemade use of his nephew, the young priest, as a lever;and M. de Poitiers at last consented to everything.

The Fontevrault gardens are one of the most splendidsights in all the country round. We chose thelarge alley as our chief entertainment-hall, and thetrees were all illuminated as in my park at Clagny,or at Versailles. There was no dancing, on accountof the nuns, but during our repast there was music,and a concert and fireworks afterwards. The feteended with a performance of “Genevieve de Brabant,”a grand spectacular pantomime, played to perfectionby certain gentry of the neighbourhood; it made agreat impression upon all the nuns and novices.

Before going down into the gardens, the Abbess wishedto present me formally to all the nuns, as well asto those persons it had pleased her to invite. Imagine her astonishment! Three nuns were absent,and despite our entreaties and the commands of theirsuperiors, they persisted in their rebellion and theirrefusal. They set up to keep rules before allthings, and observe the duties of their religion, lyingthus to their Abbess and their conscience. Itwas all mere spite. Of this there can be no doubt,for one of these refractory creatures, as it transpired,was a cousin of the Marquis de Lauzun, my so-calledvictim; while the other two were near relatives ofMademoiselle de Mauldon, an intimate friend of M.de Meaux.

In spite of these three silly absentees, we enjoyedourselves greatly, and had much innocent amusem*nt;while they, who could watch us from their windows,were probably mad with rage to think they were notof our number.

My sister complained of them to the Bishop of Poitiers,who severely blamed them for such conduct; and seeingthat he could not induce them to offer me an apology,sent them away to three different convents.

CHAPTER LX.

The Page-Dauphin.—­A Billet from the King.—­Madamede Maintenon’s Letter.—­The King asAvenger.—­His Sentence on the Murderers.

The great liberty which we enjoyed at Fontevrault,compared with the interminable bondage of Saint Germainor Versailles, made the abbey ever seem more agreeableto me; and Madame de Thianges asked me in sober earnest“if I no longer loved the King.”

“Of course I do,” was my answer; “butmay one not love oneself just a little bit, too? To me, health is life; and I assure you, at Fontevrault,my dear sister, I sleep most soundly, and have quitegot rid of all my nervous attacks and headaches.”

We were just talking thus when Madame de Mortemartentered my room, and introduced young Chamilly, thePage-Dauphin,—­[The chief page-in-waitingbore the title of Page-Dauphin]—­who broughtwith him a letter from the King. He also hadone for me from Madame de Maintenon, rallying me uponmy absence and giving me news of my children. The King’s letter was quite short, but a king’snote such as that is worth a whole pile of commonplaceletters. I transcribe it here:

I am jealous; an unusual thing for me. And Iam much vexed, I confess, with Madame de Mortemart,who might have chosen a very different moment to beill. I am ignorant as to the nature of her malady,but if it be serious, and of those which soon growmore dangerous, she has played me a very sorry trickin sending for you to act as her nurse or her physician.Pray tell her, madame, that you are no good whateveras a nurse, being extremely hasty and impatient ineverything; while as regards medical skill, you arestill further from the mark, since you have never yetbeen able to understand your own ailments, nor evenexplain these with the least clearness. I mustask the Abbess momentarily to suspend her sufferingsand come to Versailles, where all my physicians shalltreat her with infinite skill; and, to oblige me,will cure her, as they know how much I esteem andlike her. Farewell, my ladies three, who in yourfriendship are but as one. I should like to bethere to make a fourth. Madame de Maintenon,who loves you sincerely, will give you news of yourlittle family and of Saint Germain. Her letterand mine will be brought to you and delivered by theyoung Comte de Chamilly. Send him back to meat once, and don’t let him, see your novicesor your nuns, else he will not want to return to me.Louis.

Madame de Maintenon’s letter was not couchedin the same playfully mocking tone; though a marquise,she felt the distance that there was between herselfand me; besides, she always knows exactly what is theproper thing to do. The Abbess, who is an excellentjudge, thought this letter excellently written. She wanted to have a copy of it, which made me determineto preserve it. Here it is, a somewhat more voluminousepistle than that of the King:

I promised you, madame, that I would inform you asoften as possible of all that interests you here,and now I keep my promise, being glad to say thatI have only pleasant news to communicate. HisMajesty is wonderfully well, and though annoyed atyour journey, he has hardly lost any of his gaiety,as seemingly he hopes to have you back again in a dayor two.

Mademoiselle de Nantes declares that she would havebehaved very well in the coach, and that she is anearer relation to you than the duch*esse de Nevers,and that it was very unfair not to take her with youthis time. In order to comfort her, the Duc duMaine has discovered an expedient which greatly amusesus, and never fails of its effect. He tells herhow absolutely necessary it is for her proper educationthat she should be placed in a convent, and then addsin a serious tone that if she had been taken to Fontevraultshe would never have come back!

“Oh, if that is the case,” she answered,“why, I am not jealous of the duch*esse de Nevers.”

The day after your departure the Court took up itsquarters at Saint Germain, where we shall probablyremain for another week. You know, madame, howfond his Majesty is of the Louis Treize Belvedere,and the telescope erected by this monarch,—­oneof the best ever made hitherto. As if by inspiration,the King turned this instrument to the left towardsthat distant bend which the Seine makes round the vergeof the Chatou woods. His Majesty, who observesevery thing, noticed two bathers in the river, whoapparently were trying to teach their much youngercompanion, a lad of fourteen or fifteen, to swim;doubtless, they had hurt him, for he got away fromtheir grasp, and escaped to the river-bank, to reachhis clothes and dress himself. They tried tocoax him back into the water, but he did not relishsuch treatment; by his gestures it was plain thathe desired no further lessons. Then the two bathersjumped out of the river, and as he was putting onhis shirt, dragged him back into the water, and forciblyheld him under till he was drowned.

When they had committed this crime, and their victimwas murdered, they cast uneasy glances at either river-bank,and the heights of Saint Germain. Believingthat no one had knowledge of their deed, they put ontheir clothes, and with all a murderer’s gleedepicted on their evil countenances, they walked alongthe bank in the direction of the castle. TheKing instantly rode off in pursuit, accompanied byfive or six musketeers; he got ahead of them, andsoon turned back and met them.

“Messieurs,” said he to them, “whenyou went away you were three in number; what haveyou done with your comrade?” This question, askedin a firm voice, disconcerted them somewhat at first,but they soon replied that their companion wantedto have a swim in the river, and that they had lefthim higher up the stream near the corner of the forest,close to where his clothes and linen made a whitespot on the bank.

On hearing this answer the King gave orders for themto be bound and brought back by the soldiery to theold chateau, where they were shut up in separate rooms. His Majesty, filled with indignation, sent for theHigh Provost, and recounting to him what took placebefore his eyes, requested him to try the culpritsthere and then. The Marquis, however, is alwaysscrupulous to excess; he begged the King to reflectthat at such a great distance, and viewed througha telescope, things might have seemed somewhat differentfrom what they actually were, and that, instead offorcibly holding their companion under the water, perhapsthe two bathers were endeavouring to bring him tothe surface.

“No, monsieur, no,” replied his Majesty;“they dragged him into the river against hiswill, and I saw their struggles and his when they thrusthim under the water.”

“But, Sire,” replied this punctiliouspersonage, “our criminal law requires the testimonyof two witnesses, and your Majesty, all-powerful thoughyou be, can only furnish that of one.”

“Monsieur,” replied the King gently, “Iauthorise you in passing sentence to state that youheard the joint testimony of the King of France andthe King of Navarre.”

Seeing that this failed to convince the judge, hisMajesty grew impatient and said to the old Marquis,“King Louis IX., my ancestor, sometimes administeredjustice himself in the wood at Vincennes; I will to-dayfollow his august example and administer justice atSaint Germain.”

The throne-room was at once got ready by his order. Twenty notable burgesses of the town were summonedto the castle, and the lords and ladies sat with theseupon the benches. The King, wearing his orders,took his seat when the two prisoners were placed inthe dock.

By their contradictory statements, ever-increasingembarrassment, and unveracious assertions, the jurywere soon convinced of their guilt. The unhappyyouth was their brother, and had inherited propertyfrom their mother, he being her child by a secondhusband. So these monsters murdered him for revengeand greed. The King sentenced them to be boundhand and foot, and flung into the river in the selfsameplace “where they killed their young brotherAbel.”

When they saw his Majesty leaving his throne, theythrew themselves at his feet, implored his pardon,and confessed their hideous crime. The King,pausing a moment, thanked God that their consciencehad forced such confession from them, and then remittedthe sentence of confiscation only. They wereexecuted before the setting of that sun which hadwitnessed their crime, and the next day, that is, yesterdayevening, the three bodies, united once more by fate,were found floating about two leagues from Saint Germain,under the willows at the edge of the river near Poisay.

Orders were instantly given for their separate interment. The youngest was brought back to Saint Germain, wherethe King wished him to have a funeral befitting hisinnocence and untimely fate. All the militaryattended it.

Forgive me, madams, for all these lengthy details;we have all been so much upset by this dreadful occurrence,and can talk of nothing else,—­in fact,it will furnish matter for talk for a long while yet.

I sincerely hope that by this time Madame de Mortsmarthas completely recovered. I agree with his Majestythat, in doctoring, you have not had much experience;still, friendship acts betimes as a most potent talisman,and the heart of the Abbess is of those that in absencepines, but which in the presence of some loved onerevives.

She has deigned to grant me a little place in heresteem; pray tell her that this first favour has somewhatspoiled me, and that now I ask for more than this,for a place in her affections. Madame de Thiangesand Madame de Nevers are aware of my respect and attachmentfor them, and they approve of this, for they haveengraved their names and crests on my plantain-treesat Maintenon. Such inscriptions are a bond tobind us, and if no mischance befall, these trees,as I hope, will survive me.

I am, madame, etc., Maintenon.

CHAPTER LXI.

Mademoiselle d’Amurande.—­The MarriedNun.—­The Letter to the Superior.—­Monseigneur’sDiscourse.—­The Abduction.—­A Letterfrom the King.—­Beware of the Governess.—­WeLeave Fontevrault.

Amoung the novices at Fontevrault there was a mostinteresting, charming young person, who gave Madamede Mortemart a good deal of anxiety, as she thoughther still undecided as to the holy profession she wasabout to adopt. This interested me greatly,and evoked my deepest sympathy.

The night of our concert and garden fete she sangto please the Abbess, but there were tears in hervoice. I was touched beyond expression, andgoing up to her at the bend of one of the quickset-hedges,I said, “You are unhappy, mademoiselle; I feela deep interest for you. I will ask Madame deMortemart to let you come and read to me; then we cantalk as we like. I should like to help you ifI can.”

She moved away at once, fearing to be observed, andthe following day I met her in my sister’s room.

“Your singing and articulation are wonderful,mademoiselle,” said I, before the Abbess; “wouldyou be willing to come and read to me for an hourevery day? I have left my secretary at Versailles,and I am beginning to miss her much.”

Madame de Mortemart thanked me for my kindly intentionstowards the young novice, who, from that time forward,was placed at my disposal.

The reading had no other object than to gain her confidence,and as soon as we were alone I bade her tell me all. After brief hesitation, the poor child thus began:

“In a week’s time, a most awful ceremonytakes place in this monastery. The term of mynovitiate has already expired, and had it not beenfor the distractions caused by your visit, I shouldhave already been obliged to take this awful oathand make my vows.

“Madame de Mortemart is gentle and kind (nowonder! she is your sister), but she has decided thatI am to be one of her nuns, and nothing on earth caninduce her to change her mind. If this fataldecree be executed, I shall never live to see thisyear of desolation reach its close. PerhapsI may fall dead at the feet of the Bishop who ordainsus.

“They would have me give to God—­whodoes not need it—­my whole life as a sacrifice. But, madame, I cannot give my God this life of mine,as four years ago I surrendered it wholly to someone else. Yes, madame,” said she, burstinginto tears, “I am the lawful wife of the Vicomted’Olbruze, my cousin german.

“Of this union, planned and approved by my dearmother herself, a child was born, which my ruthlessfather refuses to recognise, and which kindly peasantsare bringing up in the depths of the woods.

“My dear, good mother was devotedly fond ofmy lover, who was her nephew. From our very cradlesshe had always destined us for each other. Andshe persisted in making this match, despite her husband,whose fortune she had immensely increased, and oneday during his absence we were legally united by ourfamily priest in the castle chapel. My father,who, was away at sea, came back soon afterwards:He was enraged at my mother’s disobedience,and in his fury attempted to stab her with his ownhand. He made several efforts to put an end toher existence, and the general opinion in my homeis that he was really the author of her death.

“Devotedly attached to my husband by ties oflove no less than of duty, I fled with him to hisuncle’s, an old knight-commander of Malta, whosesole heir he was. My father, with others, pursuedus thither, and scaled the walls of our retreat bynight, resolved to kill his nephew first and me afterwards. Roused by the noise of the ruffians, my husband seizedhis firearms. Three of his assailants he shotfrom the balcony, and my father, disguised as a commonman, received a volley in the face, which destroyedhis eyesight. The Parliament of Rennes took upthe matter. My husband thought it best not toput in an appearance, and after the evidence of sundrywitnesses called at random, a warrant for his arrestas a defaulter was issued, a death penalty being attachedthereto.

“Ever since that time my husband has been wanderingabout in disguise from province to province. Doomed to solitude in our once lovely chateau, my,father forced me to take the veil in this convent,promising that if I did so, he would not bring myhusband to justice.

“Perhaps, madame, if the King were truly andfaithfully informed of all these things, he wouldhave compassion for my grief, and right the injusticemeted out to my unlucky husband.”

After hearing this sad story, I clearly saw that,in some way or other, we should have to induce Madamede Mortemart to postpone the ceremony of taking thevow, and I afterwards determined to put these vagarieson the part of the law before my good friend Presidentde Nesmond, who was the very man to give us good advice,and suggest the right remedy.

As for the King, I did not deem it fit that he shouldbe consulted in the matter. Of course I lookupon him as a just and wise prince, but he is theslave of form. In great families, he does notlike to hear of marriages to which the father hasnot given formal consent; moreover, I did not forgetabout the gun-shot which blinded the gentleman, andmade him useless for the rest of his life. TheKing, who is devoted to his nobles, would never havepronounced in favour of the Vicomte, unless he happenedto be in a particularly good humour. Altogether,it was a risky thing.

I deeply sympathised with Mademoiselle d’Amurandein her trouble, and assured her of my good-will andprotection, but I begged her to approve my courseof action, though taken independently of the King. She willingly left her fate in my hands, and I badeher write my sister the following note:

Madame:—­You know the vows that bindme; they are sacred, having been plighted at the footof the altar. Do not persist, I entreat you,do not persist in claiming the solemn declarationof my vows. You are here to command the Virginsof the Lord, but among these I have no right to aplace. I am a mother, although so young, andthe Holy Scriptures tell me every day that Hagar,the kindly hearted, may not forsaken her darling Ishmael.

I happened to be with Madame de Mortemart when oneof the aged sisters brought her this letter. On reading it she was much affected. I feignedignorance, and asked her kindly what was the reasonof her trouble. She wished to hide it; but Iinsisted, and at last persuaded her to let me seethe note. I read it calmly and with reflection,and afterwards said to the Abbess:

“What! You, sister, whose distress andhorror I witnessed when our stern parents shut youup in a cloister,—­are you now going to imposelike fetters upon a young and interesting person,who dreads them, and rejects them as once you rejectedthem?”

Madame de Mortemart replied, “I was young then,and without experience, when I showed such childishrepugnance as that of which you speak. At thatage one knows nothing of religion nor of the eternalverities. Only the world, with its frivolouspleasures, is then before one’s eyes; and thespectacle blinds our view, even our view of heaven. Later on I deplored such resistance, which so grievedmy family; and when I saw you at Court, brilliantand adored, I assure you, my dear Marquise, that this
convent and its solitudeseemed to me a thousand times more
desirable than the habitation of kings.”

“You speak thus philosophically,” I replied,“only because your lot happens to have undergonesuch a change. From a slave, you have becomean absolute and sovereign mistress. The bookof rules is in your hands; you turn over its leaveswherever you like; you open it at whatever page suitsyou; and if the book should chance to give you a severerebuke, you never let others know this. Humannature was ever thus. No, no, madame; you cannever make one believe that a religious life is initself such an attractive one that you would gladlyresume it if the dignities of your position as anabbess were suddenly wrested from you and given tosome one else.”

“Well, well, if that is so,” said theAbbess, reddening, “I am quite ready to sendin my resignation, and so return you your liberality.”

“I don’t ask you for an abbey which yougot from the King,” I rejoined, smiling; “butthe favour, which I ask and solicit you can and oughtto grant. Mademoiselle d’Amurande pointsout to you in formal and significant terms that shecannot enrol herself among the Virgins of the Lord,and that the gentle Hagar of Holy Writ may not forsakeIshmael. Such a confession plainly hints at anattachment which religion cannot violate nor destroy,else our religion would be a barbarous one, and contraryto nature.

“Since God has brought me to this convent, andby chance I have got to know and appreciate this youthfulvictim, I shall give her my compassion and help,—­I,who have no necessity to make conversions by forcein order to add to the number of my community. If I have committed any grave offence in the eyesof God, I trust that He will pardon me in considerationof the good work that I desire to do. I shallwrite to the King, and Mademoiselle d’Amurandeshall not make her vows until his Majesty commandsher to do so.”

This last speech checkmated my sister. She atonce became gentle, sycophantic, almost caressingin manner, and assured me that the ceremony of takingthe vow would be indefinitely postponed, although theBishop of Lugon had already prepared his homily, andinvitations had been issued to the nobility.

Madame de Mortemart is the very embodiment of subtletyand cunning. I saw that she only wanted to gaintime in order to carry out her scheme. I didnot let myself be hoodwinked by her promises, but wentstraight to work, being determined to have my ownway.

Hearing from Mademoiselle d’Amurande that herfriend and ally, the old commander, was still living,I was glad to know that she had in him such a stanchsupporter. “It is the worthy commander,”said I, “who must be as a father to you, untilI have got the sentence of the first Parliament cancelled.” Then we arranged that I should get her away with mefrom the convent, as there seemed to be little orno difficulty about this.

Accordingly, three days afterwards I dressed her ina most elegant costume of my niece’s. We went out in the morning for a drive, and the nunsat the gateway bowed low, as usual, when my carriagepassed, never dreaming of such a thing as abduction.

That evening the whole convent seemed in a state ofuproar. Madame de Mortemart, with flaming visage,sought to stammer out her reproaches. But asthere was no law to prevent my action, she had to hideher vexation, and behave as if nothing had happened.

The following year I wrote and told her that the judgmentof the Rennes Parliament had been cancelled by theGrand Council, as it was based on conflicting evidence. The blind Comte d’Amurande had died of rage,and the young couple, who came into all his property,were eternally grateful to me, and forever showeredblessings upon my head.

The Abbess wrote back to say that she shared my satisfactionat so happy a conclusion, and that Madame d’Olbruse’sdisappearance from Fontevrault had scarcely been noticed.

The Marquise de Thianges, whose ideas regarding suchmatters were precisely the same as my own, confinedherself to stating that I had not told her a wordabout it. She spoke the truth; for the enterprisewas not of such difficulty that I needed any one tohelp me.

On the twelfth day, as we were about to leave Fontevrault,I received another letter from the King, which wasas follows:

As the pain in your knee continues, and the Bourbonnewaters have been recommended to you, I beg you, madame,to profit by being in their vicinity, and to go andtry their effect. Mademoiselle de Nantes is infairly good health, yet it looks as if a return ofher fluxion were likely. Five or six pimpleshave appeared on her face, and there is the same rednessof the arms as last year. I shall send her toBourbonne; your maids and the governess will accompanyher. The Prince de Conde, who is in office there,will show you every attention. I would rathersee you a little later on in good health, than a littlesooner, and ailing.

My kindest messages to Madame de Thianges, the Abbess,and all those who show you regard and sympathy. Madame de Nevers might invite you to stay with her;on her return I will not forget such obligation.

Louis.

We left Fontevrault after a stay of fifteen days;to the nuns and novices it seemed more like fifteenminutes, but to Madame de Mortemart, fifteen longyears. Yet that did not prevent her from tenderlyembracing me, nor from having tears in her eyes whenthe time came for us to take coach and depart.

BOOK 5.

CHAPTER I.

The Prince de Mont-Beliard.—­He Agrees tothe Propositions Made Him.—­The
King’s Note.—­Diplomacy of the Chancellorof England.—­Letter from the
Marquis de Montespan.—­The Duchy in theAir.—­The Domain of Navarre,
Belonging to the Prince de Bouillon, Promised to theMarquise.

There was but a small company this year at the Watersof Bourbonne,—­to begin with, at any rate;for afterwards there appeared to be many arrivals,to see me, probably, and Mademoiselle de Nantes.

The Chancellor Hyde was already installed there, andhis establishment was one of the most agreeable andconvenient; he was kind enough to exchange it formine. A few days afterwards he informed me ofthe arrival of the Prince de Mont-Beliard, of Wurtemberg,who was anxious to pay his respects to me, as thoughto the King’s daughter. In effect, thisroyal prince came and paid me a visit; I thought himgreatly changed for such a short lapse of years.

We had seen each other—­as, I believe, Ihave already told—­at the time of the King’sfirst journey in Flanders. He recalled all thecirc*mstances to me, and was amiable enough to tellme that, instead of waning, my beauty had increased.

“It is you, Prince, who embellish everything,”I answered him. “I begin to grow likea dilapidated house; I am only here to repair myself.”

Less than a year before, M. de Mont-Billiard had lostthat amiable princess, his wife; he had a lively senseof this loss, and never spoke of it without tearsin his eyes.

“You know, madame,” he told me, “mystates are, at present, not entirely administered,but occupied throughout by the officers of the Kingof France. Those persons who have my interestsat heart, as well as those who delight at my fears,seem persuaded that this provisional occupation willshortly become permanent. I dare not questionyou on this subject, knowing how much discretion isrequired of you; but I confess that I should passquieter and more tranquil nights if you could reassureme up to a certain point.”

“Prince,” I replied to him, “theKing is never harsh except with those of whom he hashad reason to complain. M. le Duc de Neubourg,and certain other of the Rhine princes, have beenthick-witted enough to be disloyal to him; he haspunished them for it, as Caesar did, and as all greatprinces after him will do. But you have nevershown him either coldness, or aversion, or indifference. He has commanded the Marechal de Luxembourg to enteryour territory to prevent the Prince of Orange fromreaching there before us, and your authority has beenput, not under the domination, but under the protection,of the King of France, who is desirous of being ableto pass from there into the Brisgau.”

Madame de Thianges, Madame de Nevers, and myself didall that lay in our power to distract or relieve thesorrows of the Prince; but the loss of Mademoisellede Chatillon, his charming spouse, was much more presentwith him than that of his states; the bitterness whichhe drew from it was out of the retch of all consolationpossible. The Marquise de Thianges procuredthe Chancellor of England to approach the Prince, andfind out from him, to a certain extent, whether hewould consent to exchange the County of Mont-Beliardfor some magnificent estates in France, to which somemillions in money would be added.

M. de Wurtemberg asked for a few days in which toreflect, and imagining that these suggestions emanatedfrom Versailles, he replied that he could refuse nothingto the greatest of kings. My sister wrote onthe day following to the Marquis de Louvois, insteadof asking it of the King in person. M. de Luvois,who, probably, wished to despoil M. de Mont-Beliardwithout undoing his purse-strings, put this overturebefore the King maliciously, and the King wrote meimmediately the following letter:

Leave M. de Mont-Beliard alone, and do not speak tohim again of his estates. If the matter whichoccupies Madame de Thianges could be arranged, itwould be of the utmost propriety that a principalityof such importance rested in the Crown, at least asfar as sovereignty. The case of the Principalityof Orange is a good enough lesson to me; there mustbe one ruler only in an empire. As for you, mydear lady, feel no regret for all that. Youshall be a duch*ess, and I am pleased to give you thistitle which you desire. Let M. de Montespan beinformed that his marquisate is to be elevated intoa duchy with a peerage, and that I will add to itthe number of seigniories that is proper, as I do notwish to deviate from the usage which has become alaw, etc.

The prince’s decision was definite, and as hischaracter was, there was no wavering. I wroteto him immediately to express my lively gratitude,and we considered, the Marquise and I, as to the intermediaryto whom we could entrust the unsavoury commissionof approaching the Marquis de Montespan. Hehated all my family from his having obtained no satisfactionfrom it for his wrath. We begged the ChancellorHyde, a personage of importance, to be good enoughto accept this mission; he saw no reason to refuseit, and, after ten or eleven days, he received thefollowing reply, with which he was moderately amused:

Chateau saint Elix . . . . At the world’s end.

I am sensible, my Lord, as I should be, of the honourwhich you have wished to do me, whilst, notwithstanding,permit me to consider it strange that a man of yourimportance has cared to meddle in such a negotiation. His Majesty the King of France did not consult mewhen he wished to make my wife his mistress; it issomewhat remarkable that so great a prince expectsmy intervention today to recompense conduct that Ihave disapproved, that I disapprove, and shall disapproveto my last breath. His Majesty has got eightor ten children from my wife without saying a wordto me about it; this monarch can surely, therefore,make her a present of a duchy without summoning meto his assistance. According to all laws, humanand divine, the King ought to punish Madame de Montespan,and, instead of censuring her, he wishes to make hera duch*ess! . . . Let him make her a princess,even a highness, if he likes; he has all the powerin his hands. I am only a twig; he is an oak.

If madame is fostering ambition, mine has been satisfiedfor forty years; I was born a marquis; a marquis—­apartfrom some unforeseen catastrophe—­I willdie; and Madame la Marquise, as long as she does notalter her conduct, has no need to alter her degree.

I will, however, waive my severity, if M. le Duc duMaine will intervene for his mother, and call me hisfather, however it may be. I am none the lesssensible, my lord, of the honour of your acquaintance,and since you form one of the society of Madame laMarquise, endeavour to release yourself from her charms,for she can be an enchantress when she likes.... It is true that, from what they tell me, you werenot quite king in your England.

I am, from out my exile (almost as voluntary as yours),the most obliged and grateful of your servants,

De Gondrin Montespan.

The Marquise de Thianges felt a certain irritationat the reading of this letter; she offered all ourexcuses for it to the English Chancellor, and saidto me: “I begin to fear that the King ofVersailles is not acting with good faith towards you,when he makes your advancement depend on the Marquisde Montespan; it is as though he were giving you aduchy in the moon.”

I sent word to the King that the Marquis refused toassist his generous projects; he answered me:

“Very well, we must look somewhere else.”

Happily, this domestic humiliation did not transpireat Bourbonne; for M. de la Bruyere had arrived therewith Monsieur le Prince, and that model satirist wouldunfailingly have made merry over it at my expense.

The best society lavished its attentions on me; Coulanges,whose flatteries are so amusing, never left us fora moment.

The Prince, after the States were over, had come torelax himself at Bourbonne, which was his property. After having done all in his power formerly to dethronehis master, he is his enthusiastic servitor now thathe sees him so strong. He was fascinated withMademoiselle de Nantes, and asked my permission toseek her hand for the Duc de Bourbon, his grandson;my reply was, that the alliance was desirable on bothsides, but that these arrangements were settled onlyby the King.

In spite of the insolent diatribe of M. de Montespan,the waters proved good and favourable; my blood, littleby little, grew calm; my pains, passing from one kneeto the other, insensibly faded away in both; and,after having given a brilliant fete to the Prince deMont-Beliard, the English Chancellor, and our mostdistinguished bathers, I went back to Versailles,where the work seemed to me to have singularly advanced.

The King went in advance of us to Corbeil; Madamede Maintenon, her pretty nieces, and my children werein the carriage. The King received me with hisordinary kindness, and yet said no word to me of theharshness which I had suffered from my husband. Two or three months afterwards he recollected hisroyal word, and gave me to understand that the Princede Bourbon was shortly going to give up Navarre, inNormandy, and that this vast and magnificent estatewould be raised to a duchy for me.

It has not been yet, at the moment that I write. Perhaps it is written above that I shall never bea duch*ess. In such a case, the King would notdeserve the inward reproaches that my sensibility addresseshim, since his good-will would be fettered by destiny.

It is my kindness which makes me speak so.

CHAPTER II.

The Venetian Drummer.—­The Little Olivier.—­Adriani’sLove.—­His Ingratitude.—­His Punishment.—­HisVengeance.—­Complaint on This Account.

At the great slaughter of Candia, M. de Vivonne hadthe pleasure of saving a young Venetian drummer whomhe noticed all covered with blood, and senseless,amongst the dead and dying, with whom the field wascovered far and wide. He had his wounds dressedand cared for by the surgeons of the French navy,with the intention of giving him me, either as a valetde chambre or a page, so handsome and agreeable thisyoung Italian was. Adriani was his name. He presented him to me after the return of the expeditionto France, and I was sensible of this amiable attentionof my brother, for truly the peer of this young drummerdid not exist.

Adrien was admirable to see in my livery, and whenmy carriage went out, he attracted alone all the publicattention. His figure was still not all thatit might be; it developed suddenly, and then one wasnot wrong in comparing him with a perfect model forthe Academy. He took small time in losing themanners which he had brought with him from his originalcalling. I discovered the best ‘ton’in him; he would have been far better seated in theinterior than outside my equipage. Unfortunately,this young impertinent gave himself airs of findingmy person agreeable, and of cherishing a passion forme; my first valet de chambre told me of it at once. I gave him to the King, who had sometimes noticedhim in passing.

Adrien was inconsolable at first at this change, forwhich he was not prepared, but his vanity soon cameuppermost; he understood that it was an advancement,and took himself for a great personage, since he hadthe honour of approaching and serving the King.

The little Olivier—­the first assistantin the shop of Madame Camille, my dressmaker—­sawAdrien, inspired him with love, and herself with much,and they had to be married. I was good-naturedenough to be interested in this union, and as I hadnever any fault to find with the intelligent servicesand attentions of the little modiste, I gave her twohundred louis, that she might establish herself welland without any waiting.

She had a daughter whom she was anxious to call Athenais. I thought this request excessive; I granted my nameof Francoise only.

The young couple would have succeeded amply with theirbusiness, since my confidence and favour were sufficientto give them vogue; but I was not slow in learningthat cruel discord had already penetrated to theirhousehold, and that Adrien, in spite of his adoptedcountry, had remained at heart Italian. Jealouswithout motive, and almost without love, he tormentedwith his suspicions, his reproaches, and his harshness,an attentive and industrious young wife, who lovedhim with intense love, and was unable to succeed inpersuading him of it. From her condition, amodiste cannot dispense with being amiable, gracious,engaging. The little Olivier, as pretty as onecan be, easily secured the homage of the cavaliers. For all thanks she smiled at the gentlemen, as a wellbrought up woman should do. Adrien disapprovedthese manners,—­too French, in his opinion. One day he dared to say to his wife, and that beforewitnesses: “Because you have belonged toMadame de Montespan, do you think you have the samerights that she has?” And with that he administereda blow to her.

This indecency was reported to me. I did nottake long in discovering what it was right to do withAdrien. I had him sent to Clagny, where I happenedto be at the time.

“Monsieur the Venetian drummer,” I saidto him, with the hauteur which it was necessary tooppose to his audacity, “Monsieur le Marechalde Vivonne, who is always too good, saved your lifewithout knowing you. I gave you to the King,imagining that I knew you. Now I am undeceived,and I know, without the least possibility of doubt,that beneath the appearance of a good heart you hidethe ungrateful and insolent rogue. The King needspersons more discreet, less violent, and more polite.Madame de Montespan gave you up to the King; Madamede Montespan has taken you back this morning to herservice. You depend for the future on nobodybut Madame de Montespan, and it is her alone that youare bound to obey. Your service in her househas commenced this morning; it will finish this evening,and, before midnight, you will leave her for goodand all. I have known on all occasions how topardon slight offences; there are some that a personof my rank could not excuse; yours is of that number. Go; make no answer! Obey, ingrate! Disappear,I command you!”

At these words he tried to throw himself at my feet. “Go, wretched fellow!” I cried to him;and, at my voice, my lackeys ran up and drove himfrom the room and from the chateau.

Almost always these bad-natured folks have cowardlysouls. Adrien, his head in a whirl, presentedhimself to my Suisse at Versailles, who, finding hislook somewhat sinister, refused to receive him. He retired to my hotel in Paris, where the Suisse,being less of a physiognomist, delivered him the keyof his old room, and was willing to allow him to passthe night there.

Adrien, thinking of naught but how to harm me andgive me a memorable proof of his vengeance, ran andset fire to my two storehouses, and, to put a crownon his rancour, went and hanged himself in an attic.

About two o’clock in the morning, a sick-nurse,having perceived the flames, gave loud cries and succeededin making herself heard. Public help arrived;the fire was mastered. My Suisse sought everywherefor the Italian, whom he thought to be in danger;he stumbled against his corpse. What a scene! What an affliction! The commissary having hadhis room opened, on a small bureau a letter was foundwhich he had been at the pains of writing, and inwhich he accused me of his despair and death.

The people of Paris have been at all times extravaganceand credulity itself. They looked upon thisyoung villain as a martyr, and at once dedicated anelegy to him, in which I was compared with Medea, Circe,and Fredegonde.

It is precisely on account of this elegy that I havecared to set down this cruel anecdote. My readers,to whom I have just narrated the facts with entirefrankness, can see well that, instead of having meritedreproaches, I should only have received praise formy restraint and moderation.

It is, assuredly, most painful to have to suffer theabuse of those for whom we have never done aught;but the outrages of those whom we have succoured,maintained, and favoured are insupportable injuries.

CHAPTER III.

The Equipage at Full Speed.—­The Poor Vine-grower.—­Sensibilityof Madame de Maintenon.—­Her Popularity.—­OneHas the Right to Crush a Man Who Will Not Get Outof the Way.—­What One Sees.—­WhatThey Tell You.—­All Ends at the Opera.—­OneCan Be Moved to Tears and Yet Like Chocolate.

Another event with a tragical issue, and one to whichI contributed even less, served to feed and fosterthat hatred, mixed with envy, which the rabble populaceguards always so persistently towards the favouritesof kings or fortune.

Naturally quick and impatient, I cannot endure tomove with calm and state along the roads. Mypostilions, my coachmen know it, driving in such fashionthat no equipage is ever met which cleaves the airlike mine.

I was descending one day the declivity of the Coeur-Volant,between Saint Germain and Marly. The Marquisesde Maintenon and d’Hudicourt were in my carriagewith M. le Duc du Maine, so far as I can remember. We were going at the pace which I have just told,and my outriders, who rode in advance, were clearingthe way, as is customary. A vine-grower, ladenwith sticks, chose this moment to cross the road, thinkinghimself, no doubt, agile enough to escape my six horses. The cries of my people were useless. The imprudentfellow took his own course, and my postilions, inspite of their efforts with the reins, could not preventthemselves from passing over his body; the wheelsfollowed the horses; the poor man was cut in pieces.

At the lamentations of the country folk and the horrifiedpassers-by, we stopped. Madame de Maintenonwished to alight, and when she perceived the unfortunatevine-grower disfigured with his wounds, she claspedher hands and fell to weeping. The Marquised’Hudicourt, who was always simplicity itself,followed her friend’s example; there was nothingbut groans and sorrowful exclamations. My coachmanblamed the postilions, the postilions the man’sobstinacy.

Madame de Maintenon, speaking as though she were themistress, bade them be silent, and dared to say tothem before all the crowd: “If you belongedto me, I would soon settle you.” At thesewords all the spectators applauded, and cried:“Vive Madame de Maintenon!”

Irritated at what I had just heard, I put my headout of the door, and, turning to these sentimentalwomen, I said to them: “Be good enough toget in, mesdames; are you determined to have me stoned?”

They mounted again, after having left my purse withthe poor relations of the dead man; and as far asRuel, which was our destination, I was compelled tolisten to their complaints and litanies.

“Admit, madame,” I declared to Madamede Maintenon, “that any person except myselfcould and would detest you for the harm you have doneme. Your part was to blame the postilions lightlyand the rustic very positively. My equipagedid not come unexpectedly, and my two outriders hadsignalled from their horses.”

“Madame,” she replied, “you havenot seen, as I did, those eyes of the unhappy manforced violently from their sockets, his poor crushedhead, his palpitating heart, from which the bloodsoaked the pavement; such a sight has moved and brokenmy own heart. I was, as I am still, quite besidemyself, and, in such a situation, it is permissibleto forget discretion in one’s speech and theproprieties. I had no intention of giving youpain; I am distressed at having done so. Butas for your coachmen I loathe them, and, since youundertake their defence, I shall not for the futureshow myself in your equipage.”

[In one of her letters, Madame de Maintenon speaksof this accident, but she does not give quite thesame account of it. It is natural that Madamede Montespan seeks to excuse her people and herselfif she can.—­Editor’s note.]

At Ruel, she dared take the same tone before the duch*essede Richelieu, who rebuked her for officiousness, andout of spite, or some other reason, Madame de Maintenonrefused to dine. She had two or three swooningfits; her tears started afresh four or five times,and the Marquise d’Hudicourt, who dined onlyby snatches, went into a corner to sob and weep alongwith her.

“Admit, madame,” I said then to Madamede Maintenon, “your excessive grief for an unknownman is singular. He was, perhaps, actually adishonest fellow. The accident which you comeback to incessantly, and which distresses me also,is doubtless deplorable; but, after all, it is nota murder, an ambush, a premeditated assassination. I imagine that if such a catastrophe had happenedelsewhere, and been reported to us in a gazette ora book, you would have read of it with interest andcommiseration; but we should not have seen you claspyour hands over your head, turn red and pale, utterloud cries, shed tears, sob, and scold a coachman,postilions, perhaps even me. The event, would,nevertheless, be actually the same. Admit, then,madame, and you, too, Madame d’Hudicourt, thatthere is an exaggeration in your sorrow, and that youwould have made, both of you, two excellent comedians.”

Madame de Maintenon, piqued at these last words, soughtto make us understand, and even make us admit, thatthere is a great difference between an event narratedto you by a third party, and an event which one hasseen. Madame de Richelieu shut her mouth pleasantlywith these words: “We know, Madame la Marquise,how much eloquence and wit is yours. We approveall your arguments, past and to be. Let us speakno further of an accident which distresses you; andsince you require to be diverted, let us go to theOpera, which is only two leagues off.”

She consented to accompany us, for fear of provingherself entirely ridiculous; but to delay us as muchas possible, she required a cup of chocolate, herfavourite dish, her appetite having returned as soonas she had exhausted the possibilities of her grief.

CHAPTER IV.

Charles II., King of England.—­How InterestCan Give Memory.—­His
Grievances against France.—­The Two Daughtersof the Duke of
York.—­William of Orange Marries One, inSpite of the Opposition of the
King.—­Great Joy of the Allies.—­Howthe King of England Understands
Peace.—­Saying of the King.—­Preparationsfor War.

The King, Charles Stuart, who reigned in England sincethe death of the usurper, Cromwell, was a grandsonof Henri IV., just as much as our King. CharlesII. displayed the pronounced penchant of Henri IV.for the ladies and for pleasure; but he had neitherhis energy, nor his genial temper, nor his amiablefrankness. After the death of Henrietta of England,his beloved sister, he remained for some time longerour ally, but only to take great advantage from ourunion and alliance. He had made use of it againstthe Dutch, his naval and commercial rivals, and hadcompelled them, by the aid of the King of France (thenhis friend), to reimburse him a sum of twenty-sixmillions, and to pay him, further, an annual tributeof twelve or fifteen thousand livres for the rightof fishing round his island domains.

All these things being obtained, he seemed to recollectthat Cardinal de Richelieu had not protected his father,Stuart; that the Cardinal Mazarin had declared forCromwell in his triumph; that the Court of France hadindecently gone into mourning for that robber; thatthere had been granted neither guards, nor palace,nor homages of state to the Queen, his mother, althoughdaughter and sister of two French kings; that thisQueen, in a modest retirement—­sometimesin a cell in the convent of Chaillot, sometimes inher little pavilion at Colombesl—­had died,poisoned by her physician, without the orator, Bossuet,having even frowned at it in the funeral oration;

[Mademoiselle de Montpensier, in her Memoirs, saysthat this Queen, already languishing, had lost hersleep, and was given soporific pills, on account ofwhich Henrietta of France awoke no more; but it isprobable that the servants, and not the doctors, committedthis blunder.]

that the unfortunate Henrietta daughter of this Queenand first wife of Monsieur had succumbed to the horribletortures of a poisoning even more visible and manifest;whilst her poisoners, who were well known, had neverbeen in the least blamed or disgraced.

On all these arguments, with more or less foundation,Charles II. managed to conclude that he ought to detachhimself from France, who was not helpful enough; and,by deserting us, he excited universal joy amongsthis subjects, who were constantly jealous of us.

Charles Stuart had had children by his mistresses;he had had none by the Queen, his wife. Thepresumptive heir to the Crown was the Duke of York,his Majesty’s only brother.

The Duke of York, son-in-law—­as I havenoticed already—­of our good Chancellor,Lord Hyde, had himself only two daughters, equallybeautiful, who, according to the laws of those islanders,would bear the sceptre in turn.

Our King, who read in the future, was thinking ofmarrying these two princesses conformably with ourinterests, when the Prince of Orange crossed the sea,and went formally to ask the hand of the elder of hisuncle.

Informed of this proceeding, the King at once sentM. de Croissy-Colbert to the Duke of York, to inducehim to interfere and refuse his daughter; but, inroyal families, it is always the head who makes anddecides marriages. William of Orange obtainedhis charming cousin Mary, and acquired that day theexpectation of the Protestant throne, which was hisambition.

At the news of this marriage, the allies, that isto say, all the King’s enemies, had an outburstof satisfaction, and gave themselves up to puerilejubilations. The King of Great Britain stooddefinitely on their side; he made common cause withthem, and soon there appeared in the political worldan audacious document signed by this prince, in which,from the retreat of his island, the empire of fogs,he dared to demand peace from Louis of Bourbon, hisancient ally and his cousin german, imposing on himthe most revolting conditions.

According to the English monarch, France ought torestore to the Spaniards, first Sicily, and, further,the towns of Charleroi, Ath, Courtrai, Condo, SaintGuilain, Tournai, and Valenciennes, as a conditionof retaining Franche-Comte; moreover, France was compelledto give up Lorraine to the Duke Charles, and placesin German Alsace to the Emperor.

The King replied that “too much was too much.” He referred the decision of his difficulties to thefortune of war, and collected fresh soldiers.

Then, without further delay, England and the StatesGeneral signed a particular treaty at La Hague, toconstrain France (or, rather, her ruler) to acceptthe propositions that his pride refused to hear.

CHAPTER V.

The Great Mademoiselle Buys Choisy.—­ThePresident Gonthier.—­The Indemnity.—­TheSalmon.—­The Harangue as It Is Not Done inthe Academy.

The King had only caused against his own desire theextreme grief which Mademoiselle felt at the imprisonmentof Lauzun. His Majesty was sensible of the wisdomof the resolution which she had made not to breakwith the Court, and to show herself at Saint Germain,or at Versailles, from time to time, as her rank,her near kinship, her birth demanded. He saidto me one day: “My cousin is beginning tolook up. I see with pleasure that her complexionis clearing, that she laughs willingly at this andthat, and that her good-will for me is restored. I am told that she is occupied in building a country-houseabove Vitry. Let us go to-day and surprise her,and see what this house of Choisy is like.”

We arrived at a sufficiently early hour, and had timeto see everything. The King found the situationmost agreeable; those lovely gardens united high upabove the Seine, those woods full of broad walks, oflight and air, those points of view happily chosenand arranged, gave a charming effect; the house ofone story, raised on steps of sixteen stairs, appearedto us elegant from its novelty; but the King blamedhis cousin for not having put a little architectureand ornament on the facade.

“Princes,” said he, “have no rightto be careless; since universal agreement has madeus Highnesses, we must know how to carry our burden,and to lay it down at no time, and in no place.”

Mademoiselle excused herself on the ground of herremoteness from the world, and on the expense, whichshe wished to keep down.

“From the sight of the country,” saidthe King, “you must have a hundred to a hundredand twelve, acres here.”

“A hundred and nine,” she answered.

“Have you paid dear for this property?”went on the King. “It is the PresidentGonthier who has sold it?”

“I paid for this site, and the old house whichno longer exists, forty thousand livres,” shesaid.

“Forty thousand livres!” cried the King. “Oh, my cousin, there is no such thing as conscience! You have not paid for the ground. I was assuredthat poor President Gonthier had only got rid of hishouse at Choisy because his affairs were embarrassed;you must indemnify him, or rather I will indemnifyhim myself, by giving him a pension.”

Mademoiselle bit her lip and added:

“The President asked sixty thousand first; mymen of business offered him forty, and he acceptedit.”

Mademoiselle has no generosity, although she is immenselyrich; she pretended not to hear, and it was M. Colbertwho sent by order the twenty thousand livres to thePresident.

Mademoiselle, vain and petty, as though she were abourgeoise of yesterday, showed us her gallery, whereshe had already collected the selected portraits ofall her ancestors, relations, and kindred; she pointedout to us in her winter salon the portrait of the littleComte de Toulouse, painted, not as an admiral, butas God of the Sea, floating on a pearl shell; andhis brother, the Duc du Maine, as Colonel-General ofthe Swiss and Grisons. The full-length portraitof the King was visible on three chimneypieces; shewas at great pains to make a merit of it, and callfor thanks.

Having followed her into her state chamber, whereshe had stolen in privately, I saw that she was takingaway the portrait of Lauzun. I went and toldit to the King, who shrugged his shoulders and fellto laughing.

“She is fifty-two years old,” he saidto me.

A very pretty collation of confitures and fruits wasserved us, to which the King prayed her to add a ragoutof peas and a roasted fowl.

During the repast, he said to her: “Forthe rest, I have not noticed the portrait of Gaston,your father; is it a distraction on my part, or anomission on yours?”

“It will be put there later,” she answered. “It is not time.”

“What! your father!” added the King. “You do not think that, cousin!”

“All my actions,” added the Princess,“are weighed in the balance beforehand; if Iwere to exhibit the portrait of my father at the headof these various pictures, I should have to put mystepmother, his wife, there too, as a necessary pendant. The harm which she has done me does not permit ofthat complacence. One opens one’s houseonly to one’s friends.”

“Your stepmother has never done you any otherharm,” replied the King, “than to reclaimfor her children the funds or the furniture left byyour father. The character of Margaret of Lorrainehas always been sweetness itself; seeing your irritation,she begged me to arbitrate myself; and you know allthat M. Colbert and the Chancellor did to satisfy youunder the circ*mstances. But let us speak ofsomething else, and cease these discussions. I have a service to ask of you: here is M. leDuc du Maine already big; everybody knows of youraffection for him, and I have seen his portrait withpleasure, in one of your salons. I am going toestablish him; would it be agreeable to you if I givehim your livery?”

“M. le Duc du Maine,” said the Princess,“is the type of what is gracious, and noble,and beautiful; he can only do honour to my livery;I grant it him with all my heart, since you do methe favour of desiring it. Would I were in aposition to do more for him!”

The King perfectly understood these last words; hemade no reply to them, but he understood all thathe was meant to understand. We went down againinto the gardens.

The fishermen of Choisy had just caught a salmon ofenormous size, which they had been pursuing for fouror five days; they had intended to offer it to Mademoiselle;the presence of the King inspired them with anotherdesign. They wove with great diligence a largeand pretty basket of reeds, garnished it with foliage,young grass, and flowers, and came and presented tothe King their salmon, all leaping in the basket.

The fisherman charged with the address only uttereda few words; they were quite evidently improvised,so that they gave more pleasure and effect than thoseof academicians, or persons of importance. Thefisherman expressed himself thus:

“You have brought us good fortune, Sire, byyour presence, as you bring fortune to your generals. You arrive on the Monday; on the Tuesday the townis taken. We come to offer to the greatest ofkings the greatest salmon that can be caught.”

The King desired this speech to be instantly transcribed;and, after having bountifully rewarded the sailors,his Majesty said to Mademoiselle:

“This man was born to be a wit; if he were younger,I would place him in a college. There is witat Choisy in every rank of life.”

CHAPTER VI.

Departure of the King.—­Ghent Reduced inFive Days.—­Taking of Ypres.—­PeaceSigned.—­The Prince of Orange Is at PainsNot to Know of It.—­Horrible Cruelties.

I have related in what manner Charles II., suddenlypronouncing in favour of his nephew, the Prince ofOrange, had signed a league with his old enemies,the Dutch, in order to counteract the success of theKing of France and compel him to sign a humiliatingand entirely inadmissible peace.

The King left Versailles suddenly on the 4th of February,1678, taking, with his whole Court, the road to Lorraine,while waiting for the troops which had wintered onthe frontiers, and were investing at once Luxembourg,Charlemont, Namur, Mons, and Ypres, five of the strongestand best provisioned places in the Low Countries. By this march and manoeuvre, he wished to hoodwinkthe allied generals, who were very far from imaginingthat Ghent was the point towards which the Conqueror’sintentions were directed.

In effect, hardly had the King seen them occupiedin preparing the defence of the above named places,when, leaving the Queen and the ladies in the agreeabletown of Metz, he rapidly traversed sixty leagues ofcountry, and laid siege to the town of Ghent, whichwas scarcely expecting him.

The Spanish governor, Don Francisco de Pardo, havingbut a weak garrison and little artillery, decidedupon releasing the waters and inundating the country;but certain heights remained which could not be covered,and from here the French artillery started to stormthe ramparts and the fort.

The siege was commenced on the 4th of March; uponthe 9th the town opened its gates, and two days laterthe citadel. Ypres was carried at the end ofa week, in spite of the most obstinate resistance. Our grenadiers performed prodigies, and lost alltheir officers, without exception. I lost thereone of my nephews, the one hope of his family; my complimentsto the King, therefore, were soon made.

He went to Versailles to take back the Queen, andreturned to Ghent with the speed and promptitude oflightning. The same evening he sent an orderto a detachment of the garrison of Maestricht to hastenand seize the town and citadel of Leuwe, in Brabant,which was executed on the instant. It was thenthat the Dutch sent their deputation, charged to pleadfor a suspension of hostilities for six weeks. The King granted it, although these blunderers hardlymerited it. They undertook that Spain shouldjoin them in the peace, and finally, after some difficulties,settled more or less rightly, the treaty was signedon the 10th of August, just as the six weeks wereabout to expire.

The Prince of Orange, naturally bellicose, and, aboveall things, passionately hostile to France, pretendedto ignore the existence of this peace, which he disapproved. The Marechal de Luxembourg, informed of the treaty,gave himself up to the security of the moment; he wasactually at table with his numerous officers whenhe was warned that the Prince of Orange was advancingagainst him. The alarm was quickly sounded; suchtroops and cavalry as could be were assembled, anda terrible action ensued.

At first we were repulsed, but soon the Marshal ralliedhis men; he excited their indignation by exposingto them the atrocity of M. d’Orange, and aftera terrible massacre, in which two thousand Englishbit the dust, the Marechal de Luxembourg remained masterof the field.

He was victorious, but in this unfortunate actionwe lost, ourselves, the entire regiment of guards,that of Feuquieres, and several others besides, withan incredible quantity of officers, killed or wounded.

The name of the Prince of Orange, since that day,was held in horror in both armies, and he would havefallen into disgrace with the States General themselveshad it not been for the protection of the King ofEngland, to whom the Dutch were greatly bound.

On the following day, this monster sent a parliamentaryofficer to the French generals to inform them thatduring the night official news of the peace had reachedhim.

CHAPTER VII.

Mission of Madame de Maintenon to Choisy.—­MademoiselleGives the Principalities of Eu and Dombes in Exchangefor M. de Lauzun.—­He Is Set at Liberty.

The four or five words which had escaped Mademoisellede Montpensier had remained in the King’s recollection. He said to me: “If you had more patience,and a sweeter and more pliant temper, I would employyou to go and have a little talk with Mademoiselle,in order to induce her to explain what intentionsshe may have relative to my son.”

“I admit, Sire,” I answered him, “thatI am not the person required for affairs of that sort. Your cousin is proud and cutting; I would not endurewhat she has made others endure. I cannot acceptsuch a commission. But Madame de Maintenon,who is gentleness itself, is suitable—­noone more so for this mission; she is at once insinuatingand respectful; she is attached to the Duc du Maine. The interests of my son could not be in better hands.”

The King agreed with me, and both he and I beggedthe Marquise to conduct M. du Maine to Choisy.

Mademoiselle de Montpensier received him with rapture. He thanked her for what she had done for him, ingranting him her colours, and upon that Mademoiselleasked his permission to embrace him, and to tell himhow amiable and worthy of belonging to the King shefound him. She led him to the hall, in whichhe was to be seen represented as a colonel-generalof Swiss.

“I have always loved the Swiss,” she said,“because of their great bravery, their fidelity,and their excellent discipline. The Marechalde Bassompierre made his corps the perfection whichit is; it is for you, my cousin, to maintain it.”

She passed into another apartment, where she was tobe seen represented as Bellona. Two Loves werepresenting her, one with his helm adorned with martialplumes, the other with his buckler of gold, with theOrleans-Montpensier arms. The laurel crown, withwhich Triumphs were ornamenting her head, and thescaled cuirass of Pallas completed her decoration. M. le Duc du Maine praised, without affectation, theintelligence of the artist; and as for the figure andthe likeness, he said to the Princess: “Youare good, but you are better.” The calmand the naivety of this compliment made Mademoiselleshed tears. Her emotion was visible; she embracedmy son anew.

“You have brought him up perfectly,” shesaid to Madame de Maintenon. “His urbanityis of good origin; that is how a king’s son oughtto act and speak:

“His Majesty,” said Madame de Maintenon,“has been enchanted with your country-house;he spoke of it all the evening. He even addedthat you had ordered it all yourself, without an architect,and that M. le Notre would not have done better.”

“M. le Notre,” replied the Princess, “camehere for a little; he wanted to cut and destroy, andupset and disarrange, as with the King at Versailles. But I am of a different mould to my cousin; I am notto be surprised with big words. I saw that LeNotre thought only of expenditure and tyranny; I thankedhim for his good intentions, and prayed him not toput himself out for me. I found there thicketsalready made, of an indescribable charm; he wanted,on the instant, to clear them away, so that one couldtestify that all this new park was his. If youplease, madame, tell his Majesty that M. le Notre isthe sworn enemy of Nature; that he sees only the pleasuresof proprietorship in the future, and promises us coverand shade just at that epoch of our life when we shallonly ask for sunshine in which to warm ourselves.”

She next led her guests towards the large apartments. When she had come to her bedroom, she showed theMarquise the mysterious portrait, and asked if sherecognised it.

“Ah, my God! ’tis himself!” saidMadame de Maintenon at once. “He sees,he breathes, he regards us; one might believe one heardhim speak. Why do you give yourself this torture?”continued the ambassadress. “The continualpresence of an unhappy and beloved being feeds yourgrief, and this grief insensibly undermines you. In your place, Princess, I should put him elsewhereuntil a happier and more favourable hour.”

“That hour will never come,” cried Mademoiselle.

“Pardon me,” resumed Madame de Maintenon;“the King is never inhuman and inexorable; youshould know that better than any one. He punishesonly against the protests of his heart, and, as soonas he can relent without impropriety or danger, hepardons. M. de Lauzun, by refusing haughtilythe marshal’s baton, which was offered him indespite of his youth, deeply offended the King, andthe disturbance he allowed himself to make at Madamede Montespan’s depicted him as a dangerous andwrong-headed man. Those are his sins. Rest assured, Princess, that I am well informed. But as I know, at the same time, that the King wasmuch attached to him,—­and is still so,to some extent, and that a captivity of ten yearsis a rough school, I have the assurance that your Highnesswill not be thought importunate if you make today someslight attempt towards a clemency.”

“I will do everything they like,” Mademoisellede Montpensier said then; “but shall I haveany one near his Majesty to assist and support myundertaking? I have no more trust in Madame deMontespan; she has betrayed us, she will betray usagain; the offence of M. de Lauzun is always presentin her memory, and she is a lady who does not easilyforgive. As for you, madame, I know that theKing considers you for the invaluable services ofthe education given to his children. Deign tospeak and act in favour of my unhappy husband, andI will make you a present of one of my fine titledterritories.”

Madame de Maintenon was too acute to accept anythingin such a case; she answered the Princess that hergenerosities, to please the King, should be offeredto M. le Duc du Maine, and that, by assuring a partof her succession to that young prince, she had asure method of moving the monarch, and of turninghis paternal gratitude to the most favourable concessions. The Princess, enchanted, then said to the negotiatrix:

“Be good enough to inform his Majesty, thisevening, that I offer to give, at once, to his dearand amiable child the County of Eu and my Sovereigntyof Dombes, adding the revenues to them if it is necessary.”

Madame de Maintenon, who worships her pupil, kissedthe hand of Mademoiselle, and promised to return andsee her immediately.

That very evening she gave an account to the Kingof her embassy; she solicited the liberty of the Marquisde Lauzun, and the King commenced by granting “theauthorisation of mineral waters.”

Meanwhile, Mademoiselle, presented by Madame de Maintenon,went to take counsel with the King. She madea formal donation of the two principalities whichI have named. His Majesty, out of courtesy, lefther the revenues, and, in fine, she was permitted tomarry her M. de Lauzun, and to assure him, by contract,fifty thousand livres of income.

CHAPTER VIII.

M. de Brisacier and King Casimir.—­One IsNever so Well Praised as by Oneself.—­HeIs Sent to Get Himself Made a Duke Elsewhere.

The Abbe de Brisacier, the famous director of consciences,possessed enough friends and credit to advance youngBrisacier, his nephew, to the Queen’s household,to whom he had been made private secretary. Slanderersor impostors had persuaded this young coxcomb thatCasimir, the King of Poland, whilst dwelling in Parisin the quality of a simple gentleman, had shown himselfmost assiduous to Madame Brisacier, and that he, Brisacierof France, was born of these assiduities of the Polishprince.

When he saw the Comte Casimir raised to the electivethrone of Poland, he considered himself as the issueof royal blood, and it seemed to him that his positionwith the Queen, Maria Theresa, was a great injusticeof fortune; he thought, nevertheless, that he oughtto remain some time longer in this post of inferiority,in order to use it as a ladder of ascent.

The Queen wrote quantities of letters to differentcountries, and especially to Spain, but never, orhardly ever, in her own hand. One day, whilsthandling all this correspondence for the princess’ssignature, the private secretary slipped one in, addressedto Casimir, the Polish King.

In this letter, which from one end to the other sangthe praises of the Seigneur Brisacier, the Queen hadthe extreme kindness to remind the Northern monarchof his old liaison with the respectable mother of theyoung man, and her Majesty begged the prince to solicitfrom the King of France the title and rank of dukefor so excellent a subject.

King Casimir was not, as one knows, distrust and prudencepersonified; he walked blindfold into the trap; hewrote with his royal hand to his brother, the Kingof France, and asked him a brevet as duke for youngBrisacier. Our King, who did not throw duchiesat people’s heads, read and re-read the strangemissive with astonishment and suspicion. Hewrote in his turn to the suppliant King, and beggedhim to send him the why and the wherefore of thishieroglyphic adventure. The good prince, ignorantof ruses, sent the letter of the Queen herself.

Had this princess ever given any reason to be talkedabout, there is no doubt that she would have beenlost on this occasion; but there was nothing to excitesuspicion. The King, no less, approached herwith precaution, in order to observe the first resultsof her answers.

“Madame,” he said, “are you stillquite satisfied with young Brisacier, your privatesecretary?”

“More or less,” replied the Infanta; “alittle light, a little absent; but, on the whole,a good enough young man.”

“Why have you recommended him to the King ofPoland, instead of recommending him to me directly?”

“To the King of Poland!—­I? I have not written to him since I congratulated himon his succession.”

“Then, madame, you have been deceived in thismatter, since I have your last letter in my hands. Here it is; I return it to you.”

The princess read the letter with attention; her astonishmentwas immense.

“My signature has been used without authority,”she said. “Brisacier alone can be guilty,being the only one interested.”

This new kind of ambitious man was summoned; he waseasily confounded. The King ordered him to prison,wishing to frighten him for a punishment, and at theend of some days he was commanded to quit France andgo and be made duke somewhere else.

This event threw such ridicule upon pretenders tothe ducal state, that I no longer dared speak furtherto the King of the hopes which he had held out tome; moreover, the things which supervened left me quiteconvinced of the small success which would attendmy efforts.

CHAPTER IX.

Compliment from Monsieur to the New Prince de Dombes.—­RomanHistory.—­The Emperors Trajan, Marcus Aurelius,and Verus.—­The Danger of Erudition.

Monsieur, having learnt what his cousin of Montpensierhad just done for my Duc du Maine, felt all possiblegrief and envy at it. He had always looked toinherit from her, and the harshest enemy whom M. deLauzun met with at his wedding was, undoubtedly, Monsieur. When M. le Duc du Maine received the congratulationsof all the Court on the ground of his new dignityof Prince de Dombes, his uncle was the last to appear;even so he could not refrain from making him hearthese disobliging words,—­who would believeit?—­“If I, too, were to give you mycongratulation, it would be scarcely sincere; whatwill be left for my children?”

Madame de Maintenon, who is never at a loss, replied:“There will be left always, Monseigneur, theremembrance of your virtues; that is a fair enoughinheritance.”

We complained of it to the King; he reprimanded himin a fine fashion. “I gave you a conditionso considerable,” said he, “that the Queen,our mother, herself thought it exaggerated and dangerousin your hands. You have no liking for my children,although you feign a passionate affection for theirfather; the result of your misbehaviour will be thatI shall grow cool to your line, and that your daughter,however beautiful and amiable she may be, will notmarry my Dauphin.”

At this threat Monsieur was quite overcome, and anxiousto make his apologies to the King; he assured himof his tender affection for M. le Duc du Maine, andwould give him to understand that Madame de Maintenonhad misunderstood him.

“It is not from her that your compliment cameto us; it is from M. le Duc du Maine, who is uprightnessitself, and whose mouth has never lied.”

Monsieur then started playing at distraction and puerility;the medal-case was standing opened, his gaze was turnedto it. Then he came to me and said in a whisper:“I pray you, come and look at the coin of MarcusAurelius; do you not find that the King resembles thatemperor in every feature?”

“You are joking,” I answered him. “His Majesty is as much like him as you arelike me.”

He insisted, and his brother, who witnessed our argument,wished to know the reason. When he understood,he said to Monsieur: “Madame de Montespanis right; I am not in the least like that Roman princein face. The one to whom I should wish to belike in merit is Trajan.”

“Trajan had fine qualities,” replied Monsieur;“that does not prevent me from preferring MarcusAurelius.”

“On what grounds?” asked his Majesty.

“On the grounds that he shared his throne withVerus,” replied Monsieur, unhesitatingly.

The King flushed at this reply, and answered in fewwords: “Marcus Aurelius’s actionto his brother may, be called generous; it was nonethe less inconsiderate. By his own confession,the Emperor Verus proved, by his debauchery and hisvices, unworthy, of the honour which had been donehim. Happily, he died from his excesses duringthe Pannonian War, and Marcus Aurelius could onlydo well from that day on.”

Monsieur, annoyed with his erudition and confusedat his escapade, sought to change the conversation. The King, passing into his cabinet, left him entirely,in my charge. I scolded him for his inconsequences,and he dared to implore me to put his daughter “inthe right way,” to become one day Queen of Franceby marrying Monsieur le Dauphin, whom she loved alreadywith her whole heart.

CHAPTER X.

The Benedictines of Fontevrault.—­The Headin the Basin.—­The Unfortunate Delivery.—­TheBaptism of the Monster.—­The CourageousMarriage.—­Foundation of the Royal Abbeyof Fontevrault.

Two or three days after our arrival at Fontevrault,the King, who loves to know all the geographical detailsof important places, asked me of the form and particularsof the celebrated abbey. I gave him a naturaldescription of it.

“They are two vast communities,” I toldhim, “which the founder, for some inexplicablewhim, united in one domain, of an extent which astonishesthe imagination.”

The Community of Benedictine Nuns is regarded as thefirst, because of the abbotorial dignity it possesses. The Community of Benedictine Monks is only second,—­afact which surprises greatly strangers and visitors.Both in the monastery and the convent the buildingsare huge and magnificent, the courts spacious, thewoods and streams well distributed and well kept.

“Every morning you may see a hundred and fiftyto two hundred ploughs issue from both establishments;these spread over the plain and till an immense expanseof land. Carts drawn by bullocks, big mules,or superb horses are ceaselessly exporting the productsof the fields, the meadows, or the orchards. Innumerable cows cover the pastures, and legions ofwomen and herds are employed to look after these estates.

“The aspect of Fontevrault gives an exact ideaof the ancient homes of the Patriarchs, in their remoteperiods of early civilisation, which saw the greatproprietors delighting in their natal hearth, and findingtheir glory, as well as their happiness, in fertilisingor assisting nature.

“The abbess rules like a sovereign over hercompanion nuns, and over the monks, her neighbours. She appoints their officers and their temporal prince. It is she who admits postulants, who fixes the datesof ordinations, pronounces interdictions, graces,and penances. They render her an account oftheir administration and the employment of their revenues,from which she subtracts carefully her third share,as the essential right of her crosier of authority.”

“Have you invited the Benedictine Fathers toyour fete in the wood?” the King asked me,smiling.

“We had no power, Sire,” I answered. “There are many young ladies being educatedwith the nuns of Fontevrault. The parents ofthese young ladies respectful as they are to thesemonks, would have looked askance at the innovation. The Fathers never go in there. They are to beseen at the abbey church, where they sing and saytheir offices. Only the three secular chaplainsof the abbess penetrate into the house of the nuns;the youngest of the three cannot be less than fifty.

“The night of the feast the monks draw nearour cloister by means of a wooden theatre, which formsa terrace, and from this elevation they participateby the eye and ear in our amusem*nts; that is enough.”

“Has Madame de Mortemart ever related to youthe origin of her abbey?” resumed the King. “Perhaps she is ignorant of it. I am goingto tell you of it, for it is extremely curious; itis not as it is related in the books, and I take thefacts from good authority. You must hear of it,and you will see.

“There was once a Comtesse de Poitiers, namedHonorinde, to whom fate had given for a husband thegreatest hunter in the world. This man wouldhave willingly passed his life in the woods, wherehe hunted, night and day, what we call, in hunter’sparlance, ‘big game.’ Having wonthe victory over a monstrous boar, he cut off thehead himself, and this quivering and bleeding maskhe went to offer to his lady in a basin. Theyoung woman was in the first month of her pregnancy. She was filled with repugnance and fright at thesight of this still-threatening head; it troubledher to the prejudice of her fruit.

“Eight, or seven and a half, months afterwards,she brought into the world a girl who was human inher whole body, but above had the horrible head ofa wild boar! Imagine what cries, what grief,what despair! The cure of the place refusedbaptism, and the Count, broken down and desolate,ordered the child to be drowned.

“Instead of throwing it into the water, hisservant scrupulously went straight to the monasterywhere your sister rules. He laid down his closedpacket in the church of the monks, and then returnedto his lord, who never had any other child.

“The religious Benedictines, not knowing whencethis monster came, believed there was some prodigyin it. They baptised in this little person allthat was not boar, and left the surplus to Providence. They brought up the singular creature in the greatestsecrecy; it drank and lapped after the manner of itskind. As it grew up it walked on its feet, andthat without the least imperfection; it could sit down,go on its knees, and even make a courtesy. Butit never articulated any distinct words, and it hadalways a harsh and rough voice which howled and grunted. Its intelligence never reached the knowledge of readingor writing; but it understood easily all that couldbe said to it, and the proof was that it replied byits actions.

“The Comte de Poitiers having died whilst hunting,Honorinde learnt of her old serving-man in what refuge,in what asylum, he had long ago deposited the littleone. This good mother proceeded there, and themonks, after some hesitation, confessed what had becomeof it. She wished to see it; they showed ither. At its aspect she felt the same inwardcommotion which had, years before, perverted nature. She groaned, fainted, burst into tears, and neverhad the courage and firmness to embrace what she hadseen.

“Her gratitude was not less lively and sincere;she handed a considerable sum to the Benedictinesof Fontevrault, charging them to continue their goodwork and charity.

“The reverend Prior, reflecting that his hideousinmate came of a great family, and of a family ofgreat property, resolved to procure it as a wife forhis nephew. He sounded the young man, who lookedfixedly at his future bride, and avowed that he wassatisfied.

“She is a good Christian,” he repliedto his uncle, since you have baptised her here. She is of a good family, since Honorinde has recognisedher. There are many as ugly as she is to be seenwho still find husbands. I will put a prettymask on her, and the mask will give me sufficientillusion. Benedicte, so far as she goes, is well-made;I hope to have fine children who will talk.

“The Prior commenced by marrying them; he thenconfided in Honorinde, who, not daring to noise abroadthis existence, was compelled to submit to what hadbeen done.

“The marriage of the young she-monster was nothappy. She bit her husband from morning to night. She did not know how to sit at table, and would onlyeat out of a trough. She needed neither an armchair,a sofa, nor a couch; she stretched herself out onthe sand or on the pavement.

“Her husband, in despair, demanded the nullificationof his marriage; and as the courts did not proceedfast enough for his impatience, he killed his companion,Benedicte, with a pistol-shot, at the moment when shewas biting and tearing him before witnesses.

“Honorinde had her buried at Fontevrault, andover her tomb, at the end of the year, she built aconvent, to which her immense property was given,where she retired herself as a simple nun, and of whichshe was appointed first abbess by the Pope who reignedat the time.

“There, madame,” added the King, “isthe somewhat singular origin of the illustrious abbeywhich your sister rules with such eclat. Youmust have remarked the boar’s head, perfectlyimitated in sculpture, in the dome; that mask is thespeaking history of the noble community of Fontevrault,where more than a hundred Benedictine monks obey anabbess.”

CHAPTER XI.

Fine Couples Make Fine Children.—­The Dauphineof Bavaria.—­She
Displeases Madame de Montespan.—­First DebutRelating to Madame de
Maintenon, Appointed Lady-in-waiting.—­Conversationbetween the Two
Marquises.

The King, in his moments of effusion and abandonment(then so full of pleasantness), had said more thanonce: “If I have any physical beauty, Iowe it to the Queen, my mother; if my daughters haveany beauty, they owe it to me: it is only finecouples who get fine children.”

When I saw him decided upon marrying Monseigneur leDauphin, I reminded him of his maxim. He fellto smiling, and answered me: “Chance, too,sometimes works its miracles. My choice for myson is a decided thing; my politics come before mytaste, and I have asked for the daughter of the Electorof Bavaria, whose portrait I will show you. Sheis not beautiful, like you; she is prettier than Benedicte,and I hope that she will not bite Monseigneur le Dauphinin her capricious transports.”

The portrait that the King showed me was a flatteringone, as are, in general, all these preliminary samples. For all that, the Princess seemed to me hideous,and even disagreeable, especially about her eyes,that portion of the face which confirms the physiognomyand decides everything.

“Monseigneur will never love that woman,”I said to the King. “That constrainedlook in the pupil, those drooping eyes,—­theymake my heart ache.”

“My son, happily,” his Majesty answered,“is not so difficult as you and I. He has alreadyseen this likeness, and at the second look he wastaken; and as we have assured him that the young personis well made, he cries quits with her face, and proposesto love her as soon as he gets her.”

“God grant it!” I added; and the Kingtold me, more or less in detail, of what importantpersonages he was going to compose his household. The eternal Abbe Bossuet was to become first chaplain,as being the tutor-in-chief to the Dauphin; the duch*essede Richelieu, for her great name, was going to belady of honour; and the two posts of ladies in waitingwere destined for the Marquise de Rochefort, wife ofthe Marshal, and for Madame de Maintenon, ex-governessof the Duc du Maine. The gesture of disapprovalwhich escaped me gave his Majesty pain.

“Why this air of contempt or aversion?” he said, changing colour. “Is it to theMarechale de Rochefort or the Marquise de Maintenonthat you object? I esteem both the one and theother, and I am sorry for you if you do not esteemthem too.”

“The Marechale de Rochefort,” I replied,without taking any fright, “is aged, and almostalways sick; a lady of honour having her appearancewill make a contrast with her office. As tothe other, she still has beauty and elegance; butdo you imagine, Sire, that the Court of Bavaria andthe Court of France have forgotten, in so short atime, the pleasant and burlesque name of the poetScarron?”

“Every one ought to forget what I have forgotten,”replied the King, “and what my gratitude willnot, and cannot forget, I am surprised that you, madame,should take pleasure in forgetting.”

“She has taken care of my children since thecradle, I admit it with pleasure,” said I tohis Majesty, without changing my tone; “you havegiven her a marquisate for recompense, and a superbhotel completely furnished at Versailles. Ido not see that she has any cause for complaint, northat after such bounty there is more to add.”

“Of eight children that you have brought intothe world, madame, she has reared and attended perfectlyto six,” replied the King. “The estateof Maintenon has, at the most, recompensed the educationof the Comtes de Vegin, whose childhood was so onerous. And for the remainder of my little family, what haveI yet done that deserves mention?”

“Give her a second estate and money,”I cried, quite out of patience, “since it ismoney which pays all services of that nature; but whatneed have you to raise her to great office, and keepher at Court? She dotes, she says, on her oldchateau of Maintenon; do not deprive her of this delight. By making her lady in waiting, you would be disobligingher.”

“She will accept out of courtesy,” hesaid to me, putting on an air of mockery. Andas the time for the Council was noted by him on myclock, he went away without adding more.

Since M. le Duc du Maine had grown up, and Mademoisellede Nantes had been confided to the Marquise de Montchevreuil,Madame de Maintenon continued to occupy her handsomeapartment on the Princes’ Court. Thereshe received innumerable visits, she paid assiduouscourt to the Queen, who had suddenly formed a tastefor her, and took her on her walks and her visitsto the communities; but this new Marquise saw me rarely.Since the affair of the vine-grower, killed on theroad, she declared that I had insulted her beforeeverybody, and that I had ordered her imperiouslyto return to my carriage, as though she had been awaiting-maid, or some other menial. Her excessivesensibility readily afforded her this pretext, sothat she neglected and visibly overlooked me.

As she did not come to me, I betook myself to herat a tolerably early hour, before the flood of visitors,and started her on the history of the lady in waiting.

“His Majesty has spoken of it to me,”she said, “as of a thing possible; but I donot think there is anything settled yet in the matter.”

“Will you accept,” I asked her, “supposingthe King to insist?”

“I should like a hundred times better,”she replied, “to go and live in independencein my little kingdom of Maintenon, and with my ownhands gather on my walls those velvet, brilliant peaches,which grow so fine in those districts. But ifthe King commands me to remain at Court, and formour young Bavarian Princess in the manners of thiscountry, have I the right, in good conscience, torefuse?”

“Your long services have gained you the rightto desire and take your retirement,” I saidto her; “in your place, I should insist uponthe necessities of my health. And the Courtof France will not fall nor change its physiognomy,even if a German or Iroquois Dauphine should courtesyawry, or in bad taste.”

Madame de Maintenon began to laugh, and assured methat “her post as lady in waiting would be anactual burden, if the King had destined her for itin spite of herself, and there should be no means ofwithdrawing from it.”

At this speech I saw clearly that things were alreadyfixed. Not wishing to call upon me the reproachesof my lord, I carried the conversation no further.

CHAPTER XII.

The “Powder of Inheritance.”—­TheChambre Ardente.—­The Comtesse de
Soissons’s Arrest Decreed.—­The Marquisede Montespan Buys Her
Superintendence of the Queen’s Council.—­Madamede Soubise.—­Madame de
Maintenon and the King.

At the time of the poisonings committed by Madamede Brinvilliers, the Government obtained evidencethat a powder, called “the powder of inheritance,”was being sold in Paris, by means of which impatientheirs shortened the days of unfortunate holders, andentered into possession before their time.

Two obscure women, called La Vigoureuse and La Voisine,were arrested, having been caught redhanded. Submitted to the question, they confessed their crime,and mentioned several persons, whom they qualifiedas “having bought and made use of the said powderof inheritance.”

We saw suddenly the arrest of the Marechal de Luxembourg,the Princesse de Tingry, and many others. The’Chambre Ardente’—­[The FrenchStar Chamber.]—­issued a warrant also toseize the person of the duch*esse de Bouillon and theComtesse de Soissons, the celebrated nieces of theCardinal Mazarin, sisters-in-law, both, of my nieceDe Nevers, who was dutifully afflicted thereby.

The Comtesse de Soissons had possessed hitherto animportant office, whose functions suited me in everyrespect,—­that of the superintendence ofthe Queen’s household and council. I boughtthis post at a considerable price. The Queen,who had never cared for the Countess, did me the honourof assuring me that she preferred me to the other,when I came to take my oath in her presence.

Madame la Princesse de Rohan-Soubise had wished tosupplant me at that time, and I was aware of her constantdesire to obtain a fine post at Court. She lovedthe King, who had shown her his favours in more thanone circ*mstance; but, as she had a place neither inhis esteem nor in his affection, I did not fear her. I despatched to her, very adroitly, a person of heracquaintance, who spoke to her of the new householdof a Dauphine, and gave her the idea of solicitingfor herself the place of lady in waiting, destinedfor Madame de Maintenon.

The Princesse de Soubise put herself immediately amongstthe candidates. She wrote to the King, her friend,a pressing and affectionate letter, to which he didnot even reply. She wrote one next in a moremajestic and appropriate style. It was notifiedto her that she was forbidden to reappear at Court.

The prince had resolutely taken his course. He wished to put Madame de Maintenon in evidence,and what he has once decided he abandons never.

I was soon aware that costumes of an unheard-of magnificencewere being executed for the Marquise. Gold,silver, precious stones abounded. I was offereda secret view of her robe of ceremony, with a longmantle train. I saw this extraordinarily richgarment, and was sorry in advance for the young stranger,whose lady in waiting could not fail to eclipse herin everything.

I then put some questions to myself,—­askedmyself severely if my disapproval sprang from naturalhaughtiness, which would have been possible, and evenexcusable, or whether, mingled with all that, was somelittle agitation of jealousy and emulation.

I collected together a crowd of slight and scatteredcirc*mstances; and in this union of several smallfacts, at first neglected and almost unperceived,I distinguished on the part of the King a gradual andincreasing attachment for the governess, and at thesame time a negligence in regard to me,—­acoldness, a cooling-down, at least, and that sortof familiarity, close parent of weariness, which comesto sight in the midst of courtesies and attentionsthe most satisfying and the most frequent.

The King, in the old days, never glanced towards myclock till as late as possible, and always at thelast moment, at the last extremity. Now he casthis eyes on it a score of times in half an hour. He contradicted me about trifles. He explainedto me ingeniously the faults, or alleged faults, ofmy temper and character. If it was a questionof Madame de Maintenon, she was of a birth equal andalmost superior to the rest of the Court. Heforgot himself so far as to quote before me the subtiltyof her answers or the delight of her most intimateconversation. Did he wish to describe a noblecarriage, an attitude at once easy and distinguished,it was Madame de Maintenon’s. She possessedthis, she possessed that, she possessed everything.

Soon there was not the slightest doubt left to me;and I knew, as did the whole Court, that he openlyvisited the Marquise, and was glad to pass some momentsthere.

These things, in truth, never lacked some plausiblepretext, and he chose the time when Madame de Montchevreuiland Mademoiselle de Nantes were presenting their homagesto Madame de Maintenon.

CHAPTER XIII.

Marie Louise, Daughter of Henrietta of England, Betrothedto the King of Spain.—­Her Affliction.—­Jealousyof the King, Her Husband.

The unfortunate lady, Henrietta of England, had left,at her death, two extremely young girls, one of them,indeed, being still in the cradle. The new Madamewas seized with good-will for these two orphans tosuch an extent as to complain to the King. Theywere brought up with the greatest care; they were,both of them, pretty and charming.

The elder was named Marie Louise. It was thisone whom Monsieur destined in his own mind for Monseigneurle Dauphin; and the Princess, accustomed early tothis prospect, had insensibly adapted to it her mindand hope. Young, beautiful, agreeable, and charmingas her mother, she created already the keenest sensationat Court, and the King felt an inclination to cherishher as much as he had loved Madame. But the excessivefreedom which this alliance would not have failedto give his brother, both with his son-in-law andnephew, and with the Ministry, prevented his Majestyfrom giving way to this penchunt for Marie Louise. On the contrary, he consented to her marriage withthe King of Spain, and the news of it was accordinglycarried to Monsieur le Duc d’Orleans. Heand his wife felt much annoyance at it. Butafter communications of that kind there was scarcelyany course open to be taken than that of acquiescence. Monsieur conveyed the news to his beloved daughter,and, on hearing that she was to be made Queen of Spain,this amiable child uttered loud lamentations.

When she went to Versailles to thank the King, heruncle, her fine eyes were still suffused with tears. The few words which she uttered were mingled withsighing and weeping; and when she saw the indifferenceof her cousin, who felicitated her like the rest,she almost fainted with grief and regret.

“My dear cousin,” said this dull-wittedyoung lord, “I shall count the hours until yougo to Spain. You will send me some ‘touru’,for I am very fond of it?”

The King could not but find this reflection of hisson very silly and out of place. But intelligenceis neither to be given nor communicated by example. His Majesty had to support to the end this son, legitimateas much as you like, but altogether in degree, andwith a person which formed a perpetual contrast withthe person of the King. It was my Duc du Mainewho should have been in the eminent position of Monseigneur.Nature willed it so. She had proved it sufficientlyby lavishing all her favours on him, all her graces;but the laws of convention and usage would not haveit. His Majesty has made this same reflection,groaning, more than once.

Marie Louise, having been married by proxy, in thegreat Chapel of Saint Germain, where the Cardinalde Bouillon blessed the ring in his quality of GrandAlmoner of France, left for that Spain which her youngheart distrusted.

Her beauty and charms rendered her precious to themonarch, utterly melancholy and devout as he was. He did not delay subjecting her to the wretched,petty, tiresome, and absurd etiquette of that GothicCourt. Mademoiselle submitted to all these nothings,seeing she had been able to submit to separation fromFrance. She condemned herself to the most fastidiousobservances and the most sore privations, which didnot much ameliorate her lot.

A young Castilian lord, almost mad himself, thoughtfit to find this Queen pretty, and publicly testifyhis love for her. The jealousy of the religiousKing flared up like a funeral torch. He conceiveda hatred of his wife, reserved and innocent thoughshe was. She died cruelly by poison. AndMonseigneur le Dauphin probably cried, after his manner:

“What a great pity! She won’t sendme the touru!”

CHAPTER XIV.

The Dauphine of Bavaria.—­The Confessorwith Spurs.—­Madame de Maintenon Disputeswith Bossuet.—­He Opposes to Her Past Agesand History.—­The Military Absolution.

Eight months after the wedding of Marie Louise, wewitnessed the arrival of Anne Marie Christine, Princessof Bavaria, daughter of the Elector Ferdinand. The King and Monseigneur went to receive her at Vitry-le-Francais,and then escorted her to Chalons, where the Queen wasawaiting her.

The Cardinal de Bouillon celebrated the marriage inthe cathedral church of this third-class town. The festivities and jubilations there lasted a week.

The King had been very willing to charge me with thearrangement of the baskets of presents destined forthe Dauphine; I acquitted myself of this commissionwith French taste and a sentiment of what was proper. When the Queen saw all these magnificent gifts placedand spread out in a gallery, she cried out, and said:

“Things were not done so nobly for me; and yet,I can say without vanity, I was of a better housethan she.”

This remark paints the Queen, Maria Theresa, betterthan anything which could be said. Can one wonder,after that, that she should have brought into theworld an hereditary prince who so keenly loves ‘touru’,and asks for it!

Madame de Maintenon and M. Bossuet had gone to receivethe Princess of Schelestadt. When she was onher husband’s territory, and it was necessary,to confess her for the sacrament of matrimony, shewas strangely embarrassed. They had not rememberedto bring a chaplain of her own nation for her; andshe could not confess except in the German tongue.

Madame de Maintenon, who is skilled in all mattersof religion, said to the prelate: “I reallythink, monsieur, that, having educated Monsieur leDauphin, you ought to know a little German,—­youwho have composed the treatise on universal history.”

The Bishop of Meaux excused himself, saying that heknew Greek, Syriac, and even Hebrew; but that, througha fatality, he was ignorant of the German language. A trumpeter was then sent out to ask if there wasnot in the country a Catholic priest who was a German,or acquainted with the German tongue. Luckilyone was found, and Madame de Maintenon, who is very,pedantic, even in the matter of toilet and ornaments,trembled with joy and thanked God for it. Butwhat was her astonishment when they came to bringher the priest! He was in coloured clothes, asilk doublet, flowing peruke, and boots and spurs. The lady in waiting rated him severely, and was temptedto send him back. But Bossuet—­a fargreater casuist than she—­decided that inthese urgent cases one need hold much less to forms. They were contented with taking away the spurs fromthis amphibious personage; they pushed him into aconfessional,—­the curtain of which he wascareful to draw before himself,—­and theybrought the Bavarian Princess, who, not knowing thecirc*mstances, confessed the sins of her whole lifeto this sort of soldier.

Madame de Maintenon always had this general confessionon her conscience; she scolded Bossuet for it as asort of sacrilege, and the latter, who was only difficultand particular with simple folk, quoted historicalexamples in which soldiers, on the eve of battle, hadconfessed to their general.

“Yes,” said the King, on hearing thesequotations from the imperturbable man; “thatmust have been to the Bishop of Puy or the Bishop ofOrange, who, in effect, donned the shield and cuirassat the time of the crusades against the Saracens;or perhaps, again, to the Cardinal de la Valette d’Epernon,who commanded our armies under Richelieu successfully.”

“No, Sire,” replied the Bishop; “togenerals who were simply soldiers.”

“But,” said the King, “were theconfessions, then, null?”

“Sire,” added the Bishop of Meaux, “circ*mstancesdecide everything. Of old, in the time of SaintPeter and Saint Paul, and much later still, confessionsof Christians were public,—­made in a loudvoice; sometimes a number together, and always inthe open air. Those of soldiers that I havequoted to madame were somewhat of the kind of theseconfessions of the primitive Church; and to-day, still,at the moment when battle is announced, a militaryalmoner gives the signal for confession. Theregiments confess on their knees before the Most High,who hears them; and the almoner, raised aloft on apile of drums, holds the crucifix in one hand, andwith the other gives the general absolution to eightythousand soldiers at once.”

This clear and precise explanation somewhat calmedMadame de Maintenon, and Madame la Dauphine,—­displeasedat what she had done on arriving,—­in orderto be regular, learned to confess in French.

CHAPTER XV.

Pere de la Chaise.—­The Jesuits.—­ThePavilion of Belleville.—­The Handkerchief.

Pere de la Chaise has never done me good or ill; Ihave no motives for conciliating him, no reason toslander him. I am ignorant if he were the leastin the world concerned, at the epoch of the Grand Jubilee,with those ecclesiastical attempts of which Bossuethad constituted himself spokesman. Pere de laChaise has in his favour a great evenness of temperand character; an excellent tone, which comes to himfrom his birth; a conciliatory philosophy, which rendershim always master of his condition and of his metier. He is, in a single individual, the happy combinationof several men, that is to say, he is by turns, andas it may be needful, a man indulgent or severe inhis preaching; a man of abstinence, or a good feeder;a man of the world, or a cenobite; a man of his breviary,or a courtier. He knows that the sins of woodcuttersand the sins of kings are not of the same family,and that copper and gold are not weighed in the samescales.

He is a Jesuit by his garb; he is much more so thanthey are by his ‘savoir-vivre’. His companions love the King because he is the King;he loves him, and pities him because he sees his weakness. He shows for his penitent the circ*mspection andtenderness of a father, and in the long run he hasmade of him a spoiled child.

This Pere de la Chaise fell suddenly ill, and withsymptoms so alarming that the cabals each wished toappropriate this essential post of confessor.

The Jansenists would have been quite willing to layhold of it. The Jesuits, and principally thecordons bleus, did not quit the pillow of the sickman for an instant.

The King had himself informed of his condition everyhalf-hour. There was a bulletin, as there isfor potentates. One evening, when the doctorswere grave on his account, I saw anxiety and afflictionpainted on the visage of his Majesty.

“Where shall I find his like?” said heto me. “Where shall I find such knowledge,such indulgence, such kindness? The Pere de laChaise knew the bottom of my heart; he knew, as anintelligent man, how to reconcile religion with nature;and when duty brings me to the foot of his tribunal,as a humble Christian, he never forgets that royalty,cannot be long on its knees, and he accompanies withhis attentions and with deference the religious commandswhich he is bound to impose on me.”

“I hope that God will preserve him to you,”I replied to his Majesty; “but let us supposethe case in which this useful and precious man shouldsee his career come to an end; will you grant stillthis mark of confidence and favour to the Jesuits? All the French being your subjects, would it notbe fitting to grant this distinction sometimes tothe one and sometimes to the other? You would,perhaps, extinguish by this that hate or animosityby which the Jesuits see themselves assailed, whichyour preference draws upon them.”

“I do not love the Jesuits with that affectionthat you seem to suggest,” replied the monarch. “I look upon them as men of instruction, asa learned and well-governed corporation; but as fortheir attachment for me, I know how to estimate it. This kind of people, strangers to the soft emotionsof nature, have no affection or love for anything. Before the triumph of the King my grandfather, theyintrigued and exerted themselves to bring about hisfall; he opened the gates of Paris, and the Jesuits,like the Capuchins, at once recognised him and boweddown before him. King Henri, who knew what menare, pretended to forget the past; he pronounced himselfdecidedly in favour of the Jesuits because this bodyof teachers, numerous, rich, and of good credit, hadjust pronounced itself in favour of him.

“It was, then, a reconciliation between powerand power, and the politics of my grandfather wereto survive him and become mine, since the same elementsexist and I am encamped on the same ground. IfGod takes away from me my poor Pere de la Chaise,I shall feel this misfortune deeply, because I shalllose in him, not a Jesuit, not a priest, but a goodcompanion, a trusty and proved friend. If I losehim, I shall assuredly be inconsolable for him; butit will be very necessary for me to take his successorfrom the Grand Monastery of the Rue Saint Antoine. This community knows me by heart, and I do not likeinnovations.”

The successor of the Pere de la Chaise was alreadysettled with the Jesuit Fathers; but this man of thevanguard was spared marching and meeting danger. The Court was not condemned to see and salute a newface; the old confessor recovered his health. His Majesty experienced a veritable joy at it, ajoy as real as if the Prince of Orange had died.

Wishing to prove to the good convalescent how dearhis preservation was to him, the King released himfrom his function for the rest of the year, and beggedhim to watch over his health, the most important ofhis duties and his possessions.

Having learnt that they had neither terraces nor gardensat the grand monastery of the Rue Saint Antoine, hisMajesty made a present to his confessor of a veryagreeable house in the district of Belleville, andcaused to be transported thither all kinds of orange-trees,rare shrubs, and flowers from Versailles. Thesetasteful attentions, these filial cares, divertedthe capital somewhat; but Paris is a rich soil, wherethe strangest things are easily received and naturalisedwithout an effort.

The Pare de la Chaise had his chariot with his armson it, and his family livery; and as the income fromhis benefices remained to him, joined to his officeof confessor, he continued to have every day a numerouscourt of young abbes, priests well on in years, barons,countesses, marquises, magistrates and colonels, whocame to Belleville in anxiety about his health, tocongratulate themselves upon his convalescence, toask of him, with submission and reverence, a bishopric,an archbishopric, a cardinal’s hat, an importantpriory, a canonry, or an abbey.

Having myself to place the three daughters of oneof my relatives, I went to see the noble confessorat his pavilion of Belleville. He received mewith the most marked distinction, and was lavish inacts of gratitude for all the benefits of the King.

As he crossed his salon, in order to accompany meand escort me out, he let his white handkerchief fall;three bishops at once flung themselves upon it, andthere was a struggle as to who should pick it up togive it back to him.

I related to the King what I had seen. He saidto me: “These prelates honour my confessor,looking upon him as a second me.” In fact,the sins of the King could only throw his confessorinto relief and add to his merit.

CHAPTER XVI.

Mademoiselle de Fontanges.—­The Pavilionsof the Garden of Flora.—­Rapid Triumph ofthe Favourite.—­Her Retreat to Val-de-grace.—­HerDeath.

Madame de Maintenon was already forty-four years old,and appeared to be only thirty. This freshness,that she owed either to painstaking care or to herhappy and quite peculiar constitution, gave her thatair of youth which fascinated the eyes of the courtiersand those of the monarch himself. I wished oneday to annoy her by bringing the conversation on thissubject, which could not be diverting to her. I began by putting the question generally, and Ithen named several of our superannuated beauties whostill fluttered in the smiling gardens of Flora withouthaving the youth of butterflies.

“There are butterflies of every age and colourin the gardens of Flora,” said she, catchingthe ball on the rebound. “There are presumptuousones, whom the first breath of the zephyr despoilsof their plumage and discolours; others, more reservedand less frivolous, keep their glamour and prestigefor a much longer time. For the rest, the latterseem to me to rejoice without being vain in theiradvantages. And at bottom, what should any insectgain by being proud?”

“Very little,” I answered her, “sincebeing dressed as a butterfly does not prevent onefrom being an insect, and the best sustained preservationlasts at most till the day after to-morrow.”

The King entered. I started speaking of a youngperson, extremely beautiful, who had just appearedat Court, and would eclipse, in my opinion, all whohad shone there before her.

“What do you call her?” asked his Majesty. “To what family does she belong?”

“She comes from the provinces,” I continued,“just like silk, silver, and gold. Herparents desire to place her among the maids of honourof the Queen. Her name is Fontanges, and Godhas never made anything so beautiful.”

As I said these words I watched the face of the Marquise. She listened to this portrayal with attention, butwithout appearing moved by it, such is her power ofsuppressing her natural feeling. The King onlyadded these words:

“This young person needs be quite extraordinary,since Madame de Montespan praises her, and praisesher with so much vivacity. However, we shallsee.”

Two days afterwards, Mademoiselle de Fontanges wasseen in the salon of the grand table. The King,in spite of his composure, had looks and attentionsfor no one else.

This excessive preoccupation struck the Queen, who,marking the blandishments of the young coquette andthe King’s response, guessed the whole futureof this encounter; and in her heart was almost gladat it, seeing that my turn had come.

Mademoiselle de Fontanges, given to the King by hershameless family, feigned love and passion for themonarch, as though he had returned by enchantmentto his twentieth year.

As for him, he too appeared to us to forget all dates. I know that he was only now forty-one years old,and having been the finest man in the world, he couldnot but preserve agreeable vestiges of a once strikingbeauty. But his young conquest had hardly enteredon her eighteenth year, and this difference couldnot fail to be plain to the most inattentive, or mostindulgent eyes.

The King, with a sort of anticipatory resignation,had for six or seven years greatly simplified hisappearance. We had seen him, little by little,reform that Spanish and chivalric costume with whichhe once embellished his first loves. The flowingplumes no longer floated over his forehead, whichhad become pensive and quite serious. The diagonal,scarf was suppressed, and the long boots, with goldand silver embroidery, were no longer seen. To please his new divinity, the monarch suddenly enoughrejuvenated his attire. The most elegant stuffsbecame the substance of his garments; feathers reappeared. He joined to them emeralds and diamonds.

Allegorical comedies, concerts on the waters recommenced. Triumphant horse-races set the whole Court abob andin movement. There was a fresh carousal; therewas all that resembles the enthusiasms of youthfulaffection, and the deliriums of youth. The youthalone was not there, at least in proportion, assortment,and similarity.

All that I was soliciting for twelve years, Mademoisellede Fontanges had only to desire for a week. She was created duch*ess at her debut; and the lozengeof her escutcheon was of a sudden adorned with a ducalcoronet, and a peer’s mantle.

I did not deign to pay attention to this outrage;at least, I made a formal resolution never to saya single word on it.

The King came no less from time to time, to pay mea visit, and to talk to me, as of old, of operas andhis hunting. I endured his conversation witha philosophical phlegm. He scarcely suspectedthe change in me.

At the chase, one day, his nymph, whom nothing couldstop, had her knot of riband caught and held by abranch; the royal lover compelled the branch to restorethe knot, and went and offered it to his Amazon.Singular and sparkling, although lacking in intelligence,she carried herself this knot of riband to the topof her hair, and fixed it there with a long pin.

Fortune willed it that this coiffure, without orderor arrangement, suited her face, and suited it greatly. The King was the first to congratulate her on it;all the courtiers applauded it, and this coiffureof the chase became the fashion of the day.

All the ladies, and the Queen herself, found themselvesobliged to adopt it. Madame de Maintenon submittedherself to it, like the others. I alone refusedto sacrifice to the idol, and my knee, being once morepainful, would not bend before Baal.

With the exception of the general duties of the sovereignty,the prince appeared to have forgotten everything forhis flame. The Pere de la Chaise, who had returnedto his post, regarded this fresh incident with hisphilosophic calm, and congratulated himself on seeingthe monarch healed of at least one of his passions.

I had always taken the greatest care to respect theQueen; and since my star condemned me to stand inher shoes, I did not spare myself the general attentionswhich two well-born people owe one another, and which,at least, prove a lofty education.

The duch*esse de Fontanges, doubtless, believed herselfQueen, because she had the public homage and the King. This imprudent and conceited schoolgirl had the faceto pass before her sovereign without stopping, andwithout troubling to courtesy.

The Infanta reddened with disapproval, and persuadedherself, by way of consolation, that Fontanges hadlost her senses or was on the road to madness.

Beautiful and brilliant as the flowers, the duch*ess,like them, passed swiftly away. Her pregnancy,by reason of toilsome rides, hunting parties, andother agitations, became complicated. From theeighth month she fell into a fever, into exhaustionand languor. The terror that took possessionof her imagination caused her to desire a sojourn ina convent as a refuge of health, where God would seeher nearer and, perhaps, come to her aid.

She had herself transported during the night to theHouse of the Ladies of Val-de-Grace, and desired thatthey should place in her chamber several relics fromtheir altars.

Her confinement was not less laboured and sinister. When she saw that all the assistance of art couldnot stop the bleeding, with which her deep bed wasflooded, she caused the King to be summoned, embracedhim tenderly, in the midst of sobs and tears, anddied in the night, pronouncing the name of God andthe name of the King, the objects of her love andof fears.

CHAPTER XVII.

Madame de Sevigne.—­Madame de Grignan.—­Madamede Montespan at the Carmelites.—­Madamede la Valliere.—­These Two Great Ruins ConsoleOne Another.—­An Angel of Sweetness, Goodness,and Kindness.

Fifteen or twenty days before the death of Mademoisellede Fontanges, my sister and I were taking a walk inthe new woods of Versailles. We met the Marquisede Sevigne near the canal; she was showing these marvellousconstructions to her daughter, the Comtesse de Grignan. They greeted us with their charming amiability, and,after having spoken of several indifferent matters,the Marquise said to me: “We saw, five orsix days ago, a person, madame, of whom you were formerlyvery fond, and who charged us to recall her to thememory of her friends. You are still of thatnumber,—­I like to think so, and our commissionholds good where you are concerned, if you will allowit.”

Then she mentioned to me that poor duch*esse de laValliere, to whom I was once compelled by my unhappystar to give umbrage, and whom, in my fatal thoughtlessness,I had afflicted without desiring it.

Tears came into my eyes; Madame de Sevigne saw them,and expressed her regret at having caused me pain. Madame de Thianges and I asked her if my old friendwas much changed. She and Madame de Grignan assuredus that she was fresh, in good health, and that herface appeared more beautiful. On the next dayI wished absolutely to see her, and drove to the Carmelites.

On seeing my pretty cripple, who hobbled among uswith so great a charm, I uttered a cry, which fora moment troubled her. She sank down to salutethe crucifix, as custom demands, and, after her shortprayer, she came to me. “I did not mentionyour name to Mesdames de Sevigne,” said she;“but, however, I am obliged to them, since theyhave been able to procure me the pleasure of seeingyou once more.”

“The general opinion of the Court, and in theworld, my dear duch*ess,” answered I, “isthat I brought about your disgrace myself; and thepublic, that loved you, has not ceased to reproachme with your misfortune.”

“The public is very kind still to occupy itselfwith me,” she answered; “but it is wrongin that, as in so many other matters. My retirementfrom the world is not a misfortune, and I never suspectedthat the soul could find such peace and satisfactionin these silent solitudes.

“The first days were painful to me, I admitit, owing to the inexpressible difference which struckme between what I found here and what I had left elsewhere. But just as the eye accustoms itself, little by little,to the feeble glimmer of a vault, in the same way mybody has accustomed itself to the roughness of mynew existence, and my heart to all its great privations.

“If life had not to finish, in fulfilment ofa solemn, universal, and inevitable decree, the constraintthat I have put upon myself might at length becomeoppressive, and my yoke prove somewhat heavy. But all that will finish soon, for all undertakingscome to an end. I left you young, beautiful,adored, and triumphant in the land of enchantments. But six years have passed, and they assure me thatyour own afflictions have come, and that you, yourself,have been forced to drink the bitter cup of deprivation.”

At these words, pronounced in a melancholy and celestialvoice, I felt as though my heart were broken, andburst into tears.

“I pity you, Athenais,” she resumed. “Is, then, what I have been told lightly, andalmost in haste, only too certain for you? Howis it you did not expect it? How could you believehim constant and immutable, after what happened tome?

“To-day, I make no secret to you of it, andI say it with the peaceful indifference which Godhas generously granted me, after such dolorous tribulations. I make no secret of it to you, Athenais; a thousandtimes you plunged the sword and dagger into my heart,when, profiting by my confidence in you, by my senseof entire security, you permitted your own inclinationto substitute itself for mine, and a young man seethingwith desires to be attracted by your charms. These unlimited sufferings exhausted, I must believe,all the sensibility of my soul. And when thiscorrosive flame had completely devoured my grief, anew existence grew up in me; I no longer saw in thefather of my children other than a young prince, accustomedto see his dominating will fulfilled in everything.Knowing how little in this matter he is master of himself,he who knows so well how to be master of himself ineverything to do with his numerous inferiors, I deploredthe facility he enjoys from his attractions, fromhis wealth, from his power to dazzle the hearts whichhe desires to move and subdue.

“Recognise these truths, my dear Marquise,”she added, “and gain, for it is time, a justidea of your position. After the unhappinessI felt at being loved no longer, I should have quittedthe Court that very instant, if I had been permittedto bring up and tend my poor children. They weretoo young to abandon! I stayed still in the midstof you, as the swallow hovers and flits among thesmoke of the fire, in order to watch over and saveher little ones. Do not wait till disdain orauthority mingles in the matter. Do not cometo the sad necessity of resisting a monarch, and ofdetesting to the point of scandal that which you haveso publicly loved; pity him, but depart. Thiskind of intimacy, once broken, cannot be renewed. However skilfully it may be patched up, the rent alwaysreappears.”

“My good Louise,” I replied to the amiableCarmelite, “your wise counsels touch me, persuademe, and are nothing but the truth. But in listeningto you I feel overwhelmed; and that strength whichyou knew how to gain, and show to the world, yourformer companion will never possess.

“I see with astonished eyes the supernaturalcalm which reigns in your countenance; your healthseems to me a prodigy, your beauty was never so ravishing;but this barbarous garb pierces me to the heart.

“The King does not yet hate me; he shows meeven a remnant of respect, with which he would colourhis indifference. Permit me to ask from himfor you an abbey like that of Fontevrault, where thefelicities of sanctuary and of the world are all inthe power of my sister. He will ask nothingbetter than to take you out, be assured.”

“Speak to him of me,” answered Louise;“I do not oppose that; but leave me until theend the role of obedience and humility that his faultand mine impose on me. Why should he wish thatI should command others,—­I who did notknow how to command myself at an epoch when my innocencewas so dear to me, and when I knew that, in losingthat, one is lost?”

As she said these words two nuns came to announceher Serene Highness, that is to say, her daughter,the Princesse de Conti. I prayed Madame de laValliere to keep between ourselves the communicationsthat had just taken place in the intimacy of confidence. She promised me with her usual candour. I madea profound reverence to the daughter, embraced themother weeping, and regained my carriage, which thePrincess must have remarked on entering.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Reflections.—­The Future.—­TheRefuge of Foresight.—­Community of SaintJoseph.—­Wicked Saying of Bossuet.

I wept much during the journey; and to save the spectacleof my grief from the passers-by, I was at the painsto lower the curtains. I passed over in my mindall that the duch*ess had said to me. It was veryeasy for me to understand that the monarch’sheart had escaped me, and that, owing to his character,all resistance, all contradiction would be vain.The figure, as it had been supernumerary and on sufferance,which the duch*ess had made in the midst of the Courtwhen she ceased to be loved, returned to my memorycompletely, and I felt I had not the courage to drinka similar cup of humiliation.

I reminded myself of what the prince had told me severaltimes in those days when his keen affection for meled him to wish for my happiness, even in the future,—­evenafter his death, if I were destined to survive him.

“You ought,” he said to me, at those moments,“you ought to choose and assure yourself beforehandof an honourable retreat; for it is rarely that aking accords his respect or his good-will to the belovedconfidante of his predecessor.”

Not wishing to ask a refuge of any one, but, on thecontrary, being greatly set upon ruling in my ownhouse, I resolved to build myself, not a formal conventlike Val-de-Grace or Fontevrault, but a pretty littlecommunity, whose nuns, few in number, would owe metheir entire existence, which would necessarily attachthem to all my interests. I held to this idea. I charged my intendant to seek for me a site spaciousenough for my enterprise; and when he had found it,had showed it to me, and had satisfied me with it,I had what rambling buildings there were pulled down,and began, with a sort of joy, the excavations andfoundations.

The first blow of the hammer was struck, by some inconceivablefortuity, at the moment when the duch*esse de Fontangesexpired. Her death did not weaken my resolutionsnor slacken my ardour. I got away quite oftento cast an eye over the work, and ordered my architectto second my impatience and spur on the numerous workmen.

The rumour was current in Paris that the example of“Soeur Louise” had touched me, and thatI was going to take the veil in my convent. Itook no notice of this fickle public, and persistedwisely in my plan.

The unexpected and almost sudden decease of Mademoisellede Fontanges had singularly moved the King. Extraordinary and almost incredible to relate, hewas for a whole week absent from the Council. His eyes had shed so many tears that they were swollenand unrecognisable. He shunned the occasionswhen there was an assembly, buried himself in his privateapartments or in his groves, and resembled, in everytrait, Orpheus weeping for his fair Eurydice, andrefusing to be consoled.

I should be false to others and to myself if I wereto say that his extreme grief excited my compassion;but I should equally belie the truth if I gave itto be understood that his “widowhood” gaveme pleasure, and that I congratulated myself on hissorrow and bitterness.

He came to see me when he found himself presentable,and, for the first few days, I abstained from allreprisal and any allusion. The innumerable laboursof his State soon threw him, in spite of himself,into those manifold distractions which, in their nature,despise or absorb the sensibilities of the soul. He resumed, little by little, his accustomed serenity,and, at the end of the month, appeared to have gotover it.

“What,” he asked me, “are thosebuildings with which you are busy in Paris, oppositethe Ladies of Belle-Chasse? I hear of a convent;is it your intention to retire?”

“It is a ‘refuge of foresight,’”I answered him. “Who can count upon themorrow? And after what has befallen Mademoisellede Fontanges, we must consider ourselves as personsalready numbered, who wait only for the call.”

He sighed, and soon spoke of something else.

I reminded myself that, to speak correctly, I hadin Paris no habitation worthy of my children and ofmy quality. That little hotel in the Rue SaintAndre-des-Arcs I could count for no more than a littlebox. I sought amongst my papers for a designof a magnificent hotel which I had obtained from thefamous Blondel. I found it without difficulty,with full elevations and sections. The artisthad adroitly imitated in it the beautiful architectureof the Louvre; this fair palace would suit me in everyrespect.

My architect, at a cursory glance, judged that theconstruction and completion of this edifice wouldeasily cost as much as eighteen hundred thousand livres. This expense being no more than I could afford, Icommissioned him to choose me a spacious site for thebuildings and gardens over by Roule and La Pepiniere.

Not caring to superintend several undertakings atonce, I desired, before everything, that my housein the Faubourg Saint Germain should be complete andwhen the building and the chapel were in a conditionto receive the little colony, I dedicated my “refugeof foresight” to Saint Joseph, the respectfulspouse of the Holy Virgin and foster-father of theChild Jesus. This agreeable mansion lacked alarge garden. I felt a sensible regret for this,especially for the sake of my inmates; but there wasa little open space furnished with vines and fruit-walls,and one of the largest courtyards in the whole ofthe Faubourg Saint Germain.

Having always loved society, I had multiplied in thetwo principal blocks of the sleeping-rooms and theentrance-hall complete apartments for the lady inmates. And a proof that I was neither detested by the worldnor unconsidered is that all these apartments weresought after and occupied as soon as the windows wereput in and the painting done. My own apartmentwas simple, but of a majestic dignity. It communicatedwith the chapel, where my tribune, closed with a handsomewindow, was in face of the altar.

I decided, once for all, that the Superior shouldbe my nomination whilst God should leave me in thisworld, but that this right should not pass on to myheirs. The bell of honour rang for twenty minutesevery time I paid a visit to these ladies; and I onlyhad incense at high mass, and at the Magnificat, inmy quality of foundress.

I went from time to time to make retreats, or, tobe more accurate, vacations, in my House of SaintJoseph. M. Bossuet solicited the favour of beingallowed to preach there on the day of the solemn consecration.I begged him to preserve himself for my funeral oration. He answered cruelly that there was nothing he couldrefuse me.

BOOK 6.

CHAPTER XIX.

The Court Travels in Picardy and Flanders.—­TheBoudoir Navy.—­Madame de Montespan Is NotInvited.—­The King Relates to Her the Delightsof the Journey.—­Reflections of the Marquise.

The King, consoled as he was for the death of theduch*esse de Fontanges, did not, on that account, returnto that sweet and agreeable intimacy which had unitedus for the space of eleven or twelve years. Heapproached me as one comes to see a person of one’sacquaintance, and it was more than obvious that hisonly bond with me was his children.

Being a man who loved pomp and show, he resolved upona journey in Flanders,—­a journey destinedto furnish him, as well as his Court, with numerousand agreeable distractions, and to give fresh alarmto his neighbours.

Those “Chambers of Reunion,” as they werecalled, established at Metz and at Brisach, competedwith each other in despoiling roundly a host of greatproprietors, under the pretext that their possessionshad formerly belonged to Alsace, and that this Alsacehad been ceded to us by the last treaties. ThePrince Palatine of the Rhine saw himself stripped,on this occasion, of the greater part of the landwhich he had inherited from his ancestors, and whenhe would present a memoir on this subject to the ministers,M. de Croissy-Colbert answered politely that he wasin despair at being unable to decide the matter himself;but that the Chambers of Metz and Brisach having beeninstituted to take cognisance of it, it was beforethese solemn tribunals that he must proceed.

The Palatine lost, amongst other things, the entirecounty of Veldentz, which was joined to the churchof the Chapter of Verdun.

The King, followed by the Queen and all his Court,—­byMonsieur le Dauphin, Madame la Dauphine and the legitimateprinces, whom their households accompanied as well,—­setout for Flanders in the month of July. Madamede Maintenon, as lady in waiting, went on this journey;and of me, superintendent of the Queen’s Council,they did not even speak.

The first town at which this considerable Court stoppedwas at Boulogne, in Picardy, the fortifications ofwhich were being repaired. On the next day theKing went on horseback to visit the port of Ambleteuse;thence he set out for Calais, following the line ofthe coast, while the ladies took the same course morerapidly. He inspected the harbours and divertedhimself by taking a sail in a wherry. He thenbetook himself to Dunkirk, where the Marquis de Seignelay—­sonof Colbert—­had made ready a very fine man-of-warwith which to regale their Majesties. The Chevalierde Ury, who commanded her, showed them all the handlingof it, which was for those ladies, and for the Court,a spectacle as pleasant as it was novel. Thewhole crew was very smart, and the vessel magnificentlyequipped. There was a sham fight, and then thevessel was boarded. The King took as much pleasurein this sight as if Fontanges had been the heroineof the fete, and our ladies, to please him, made theirhands sore in applauding. This naval fight terminatedin a great feast, which left nothing to be desiredin the matter of sumptuousness and delicacy.

On the following day, there was a more formal fightbetween two frigates, which had also been preparedfor this amusem*nt.

The King was in a galley as spectator; the Queen wasin another. The Chevalier de Lery took the helmof that of the King; the Capitaine de Selingue steeredthat of the Queen. The sea was calm, and therewas just enough wind to set the two frigates in motion. They cannonaded one another briskly for an hour,getting the weather gauge in turn; after this, thecombat came to an end, and they returned to the townto the sound of instruments and the noise of cannon.

The King gave large bounties to the crew, as a tokenof his satisfaction.

The prince was on board his first vessel, when theEarl of Oxford, and the Colonel, afterwards the Dukeof Marlborough, despatched by the King of England,came to pay him a visit of compliment on behalf ofthat sovereign.

The Duke of Villa-Hermosa, Spanish Governor of theLow Countries, paid him the same compliment in thename of his master.

Both parties were given audience on this magnificentvessel, where M. de Seignelay had raised a sort ofthrone of immense height.

(All this time Mademoiselle de Fontanges lay in hercoffin, recovering from her confinement.)

From Dunkirk the Court moved to Ypres, visiting allthe places on the way, and arrived at Lille in Flanderson the 1st of August. From Lille, where thediversions lasted five or six days, they moved to Valenciennes,thence to Condo, meeting everywhere with the same honours,the same tokens of gladness. They returned toSedan by Le Quenoy, Bouchain, Cambrai; and the endof the month of August found the Court once more atVersailles.

I profited by this absence to go and breathe a littleat my chateau of Petit-Bourg, where I was accompaniedby Mademoiselle de Blois, and the young Comte de Toulouse;after which I betook myself to the mineral watersof Bourbonne, for which I have a predilection.

On my return, the King related to me all these frivolousdiversions of frigates and vessels that I have justmentioned; but with as much fire as if he had beenbut eighteen years old, and with the same cordialityas if I might have taken part in amusem*nts from whichhe had excluded me.

How is it that a clever man can forget the proprietiesto such a degree, and expose himself to the secretjudgments which must be formed of him, in spite ofhimself and however reluctantly?

CHAPTER XX.

The duch*esse d’Orleans.—­The duch*essede Richelieu.—­An Epigram of Madame de Maintenon.—­AnEpigram of the King to His Brother.

Madame la Dauphine brought into the world a son, christenedLouis at the font, to whom the King a few momentsafterwards gave the title of the Duke of Burgundy. We had become accustomed, little by little, to theface of this Dauphine, who (thanks to the counselsand instruction of her lady in waiting) adopted Frenchmanners promptly enough, succeeded in doing her hairin a satisfactory manner, and in making an appearancewhich met with general approval. Madame de Maintenon,for all her politeness and forethought, never succeededin pleasing her; and these two women, obliged to seeeach other often from their relative positions, sufferedmartyrdom when they met.

The King, who had noticed it, began by resenting itfrom his daughter-in-law. The latter, proudand haughty, like all these petty German royalties,thought herself too great a lady to give way.

Madame de Maintenon had, near the person of the youngBavarian, two intermediaries of importance, who didnot sing her praises from morn till eve. Theone was that Charlotte Elizabeth of Bavaria, whom Ihave already described to the life, who, furious ather personal monstrousness, could not as a rule forgivepretty women. The other was the duch*esse deRichelieu, maid of honour to the Princess of Bavaria,once the protector of Madame Scarron, and now her antagonist,probably out of jealousy.

These two acid tongues had taken possession of theDauphine,—­a character naturally prone tojealousy,—­and they permitted themselvesagainst the lady in waiting all the mockery and allthe depreciation that one can permit oneself againstthe absent.

Insinuations and abuse produced their effect so thoroughlythat Madame de Maintenon grew disgusted with the dutiesof her office, and with the consent of the monarchshe no longer appeared at the house of his daughter-in-law,except on state and gala occasions. Madame deRichelieu related to me one day the annoyance andmortification of the new Marquise.

“Madame d’Orleans came in one day,”said she to me, “to Madame la Dauphine, whereMadame de Maintenon was. The Princess of thePalais Royal, who does not put herself about, as everyone knows, greeted only the Dauphine and me. She spoke of her health, which is neither good norbad, and pretended that her gowns were growing toolarge for her, in proof that she was going thin. ‘I do not know,’ she added, brusquely,‘what Madame Scarron does; she is always thesame.’

“The lady in waiting answered on the spot:’Madame, no one finds you changed, either, andit is always the same thing.’

“The half-polite, half-bantering tone of Madamede Maintenon nonplussed the Palatine for the moment;she wished to demand an explanation from the ladyin waiting. She took up her muff, without makinga courtesy, and retired very swiftly.”

“I am scarcely, fond of Madame de Maintenon,”said I to Madame de Richelieu, “but I like heranswer exceedingly. Madame is one of those greathermaphrodite bodies which the two sexes recogniseand repulse at the same time. She is an aggressivepersonage, whom her hideous face makes one associatenaturally, with mastiffs; she is surly, like them,and, like them, she exposes herself to the blows ofa stick. It makes very little difference tome if she hears from you the portrait I have justmade of her; you can tell her, and I shall certainlynot give you the lie.”

Monsieur, having come some days afterwards to theKing, complained of Madame de Maintenon, who, he said,had given offence to his wife.

“You have just made a great mistake,”said the King; “you who pride yourself on speakingyour tongue so well, and I am going to put you right. This is how you ought rather to have expressed yourself:’I complain of Madame de Maintenon, who, byambiguous words, has given offence, or wished to giveoffence to my wife.’”

Monsieur made up his mind to laugh, and said no moreof it.

CHAPTER XXI.

The Marquis de Lauzun at Liberty.—­His Conductto His Wife.—­Recovery of Mademoiselle.

Mademoiselle, having by means of her donations tothe Duc du Maine obtained, at first, the release,and subsequently the entire liberty of Lauzun, wishedto go to meet him and to receive him in a superb carriagewith six horses. The King had her informed secretlythat she should manage matters with more moderation;and the King only spoke so because he was better informedthan any one of the ungrateful aversion of Lauzunto Mademoiselle. No one wished to open her eyes,for she had refused to see; time itself had to instructher, and time, which wears wings, arrived at thatresult quickly enough.

M. de Lauzun was, beyond gainsaying, a man of feelingand courage, but he nourished in his heart a limitlessambition, and his head, subject to whims and caprices,would not suffer him to follow methodically a fixedplan of conduct. The King had just pardoned himas a favour to his cousin; but, knowing him well,he was not at all fond of him. They had disposedof his office of Captain of the Guards and of the othercommand of the ‘Becs de Corbins’. It was decided that Lauzun should not return to hisemployment; but his Majesty charged Monsieur Colbertto make good to him the amount and to add to it thearrears.

These different sums, added together, formed a capitalof nine hundred and eighty thousand francs, whichwas paid at once in notes on the treasury, which wereequal in value to ready cash. On news of this,he broke into the most violent rage possible; he wastempted to throw these notes into the fire. It was his offices which he wanted, and not thesesums, with which he could do nothing.

The King received him with an easy, kind air; he,always a flatterer with his lips, cast himself tentimes on his knees before the prince, and gained nothingby all these demonstrations. He went to rejoinMademoiselle on the following day at Choisy, and daredto scold her for having constructed and even boughtthis pretty pleasure-house.

“This must have cost treasures,” saidhe. “Had you not parks and chateaus enough? It would have been better to keep all these sums andgive them to me now.”

After this exordium, he set himself to criticise thecoiffure of the Queen, on account of the colouredknots that he had remarked in it.

“But you mean, then, to satirise me personally,”said the Princess to him, “since you see myhair dressed in the same fashion, and I am older thanmy cousin!

“What became of you on leaving the King?” she asked him. “I waited for you tilltwo hours after midnight.”

“I went,” said he, “to visit M.de Louvois, who is not my friend, and who requireshumouring; then to visit M. Colbert, who favours me.”

“You ought to have seen Madame de Maintenon,I gave you that advice before leaving you,”she said; “it is to her, above all, that youowe your liberty.”

“But your Madame de Maintenon,” he resumed,“is she, too, one of the powers? Ah, myGod! what a new geography since I left these regionsten years ago!”

To avoid tete-a-tete, M. de Lauzun was always in asurly humour; he put his left arm into a sling; henever ceased talking of his rheumatism and his pains.

Mademoiselle learned, now from one person, now fromanother, that he was dining to-day with one fair lady,to-morrow with another, and the next day with a third. She finally understood that she was despised andtricked; she showed one last generosity (out of pride)towards her former friend,—­solicited forhim the title of Duke, and begged him, for the future,to arrange his life to please himself, and to let heralone.

The Marquis de Lauzun took her at her word, and neverforgave her for the cession of the principalitiesof Dombes and Eu to M. le Duc du Maine; he wantedthem for himself.

CHAPTER XXII.

Progress of Madame de Maintenon.—­The AnonymousLetter.

Since the birth of Mademoiselle de Blois, and thedeath of Mademoiselle de Fontanges, the King hardlyever saw me except a few minutes ceremoniously,—­afew minutes before and after supper. He showedhimself always assiduous with Madame de Maintenon,who, by her animated and unflagging talk, had thevery profitable secret of keeping him amused.Although equally clever, I venture to flatter myself,in the art of manipulating speech, I could not stoopto such condescensions. You cannot easily divertwhen you have a heart and are sincere—­aman who deserts you, who does not even take the troubleto acknowledge it and excuse himself.

The Marquise sailed, then, on the open sea, with allsail set; whilst my little barque did little morethan tack about near the shore. One day I receivedthe following letter; it was in a pleasant and carefulhandwriting, and orthography was observed with completeregularity, which suggested that a man had been itswriter, or its editor:

The person who writes these lines, Madame la Marquise,sees you but rarely, but is none the less attachedto you. The advice which he is going to giveyou in writing he would have made it a duty to comeand give you himself; he has been deterred by thefear either of appearing to you indiscreet, or offinding you too deeply engrossed with occupations,or with visitors, as is so often the case, in yourown apartments.

These visitors, this former affluence of greedy andinterested hearts, you will soon see revealed anddiminishing; probably your eyes, which are so alert,have already remarked this diminution. The monarchno longer loves you; coolness and inconstancy aremaladies of the human heart. In the midst ofthe most splendid health, our King has for some timepast experienced this malady.

In your place, I should not wait to see myself repudiated. By whatever outward respect such an injunction beaccompanied, the bottom of the cup is always the same,and the honey at the edge is but a weak palliative.Being no ordinary woman by birth, do not terminatelike an ordinary actress your splendid and magnificentrole on this great stage. Know how to leavebefore the audience is weary; while they can say, whenthey miss you from the scene, “She was stillfine in her role. It is a pity!”

Since a new taste or new caprice of the monarch hasled his affections away, know how to endure a fantasywhich you have not the power to remove. Despatchyourself with a good grace; and let the world believethat sober reflections have come to you, and that youreturn, of your own free will, into the paths of independence,of true glory, and of honour.

Your position of superintendent with the Queen hasbeen from the very first almost a sinecure. Give up to Madame de Maintenon, or to any one else,a dignity which is of no use to you, for which youwill be paid now its full value; which, later, islikely to cause you a sensible disappointment; forthat is always sold at a loss which must be sold ata given moment.

Nature, so prodigal to you, Madame la Marquise, hasnot yet deflowered, nor recalled in the least degree,those graces and attractions which were lavished onyou. Retire with the honours of war.

Annoyance, vexation, irritation, do not make yourveins flow with milk and honey; you would lose uponthe field of battle all those treasures which it isin your power to save.

Adieu, madame.

This communication, though anonymous, is none theless benevolent. I desire your peace and yourhappiness.

CHAPTER XXIII.

Madame de Maintenon at Loggerheads with Madame deThianges.—­The Mint of the D’AubigneFamily.—­Creme de Negresse, the Elixir ofLong Life.—­Ninon’s Secret for Beauty.—­TheKing Would Remain Young or Become So.—­Good-willof Madame de Maintenon.

This letter was not, in my eyes, a masterpiece, butneither was it from a vulgar hand. For a momentI suspected Madame de Maintenon. She was namedin it, it is true, as though by the way, but her interestin it was easy to discover, since the writer daredto try to induce me to sell her, to give up to her,my superintendence. I communicated my suspicionsto the Marquise de Thianges. She said to me:“We must see her,—­her face expressesher emotions very clearly; she is not good at lying;we shall easily extract her secret, and make her blushfor her stratagem.”

Ibrahim, faithful to his old friendship for me, hadrecently sent me stuffs of Asia and essences of theseraglio, under the pretence of politeness and asa remembrance. I wrote two lines to the Marquise,engaging her to come and sacrifice half an hour tome to admire with me these curiosities. Suspectingnothing, she came to my apartments, when she acceptedsome perfumes, and found all these stuffs divine. My sister, Madame de Thianges, said to her:

“Madame, I do not wish to be the last to congratulateyou on that boundless confidence and friendship thatour Queen accords you. Assuredly, no one deservesmore than you this feeling of preference; it appearsthat the princess is developing, and that, at last,she is taking a liking for choice conversation andfor wit.”

“Madame,” answered the lady in waiting,“her Majesty does not prefer me to any one here. You are badly informed. She has the goodnessto accord to me a little confidence; and since shefinds in me some facility in the Spanish tongue, ofwhich she wishes to remain the idolater all her life,she loves to speak that tongue with me, catching meup when I go wrong either in the pronunciation orthe grammar, as she desires to be corrected herselfwhen she commits some offence against our French.”

“You were born,” added Madame de Thianges,“to work at the education of kings. Itis true that few governesses or tutors are as amiable. There is a sound in your voice which goes straightto the heart; and what others teach rudely or monotonously,you teach musically and almost singing. Sincethe Queen loves your French and your Spanish, everythinghas been said; you are indispensable to her. Things being so, I dare to propose to you, Madame,a third occupation, which will suit you better thananything else in the world, and which will completethe happiness of her Majesty.

“Here is Madame de Montespan, who is growingdisgusted with grandeur, after having recognised itsemptiness, who is enthusiastically desiring to goand enjoy her House of Saint Joseph, and wishes toget rid of her superintendence forthwith, at any cost.”

“What!” said Madame de Maintenon. Then to me, “You wish to sell your office withouthaving first assured yourself whether it be pleasingto the King? It appears to me that you are notacting on this occasion with the caution with whichyou are generally credited.”

“What need has she of so many preliminary cautions,”added the Marquise, “if it is to you that shedesires to sell it? Her choice guarantees theconsent of the princess; your name will make everythingeasy.”

“I reason quite otherwise, Madame la Marquise,”replied the former governess of the princes; “theQueen may have her ideas. It is right and fittingto find out first her intention and wishes.”

“Madame, madame,” said my sister then,“everything has been sufficiently considered,and even approved of. You will be the purchaser;you desire to buy, it is to you that one desires tosell.”

Madame de Maintenon began to laugh, and besought theMarquise to believe that she had neither the desirenor the money for that object.

“Money,” answered my sister, “willcause you no trouble on this occasion. Moneyhas been coined in pour family.”

[Constant d’Aubigne, father of Madame de Maintenon,in his wild youth, was said to have taken refuge ina den of comers.—­Ed. Note]

Madame de Maintenon, profoundly moved, said to theMarquise:

“I thought, madame, that I had come to see Madamede Montespan, to look at her stuffs from the seraglio,and not to receive insults. All your teasingaffects me, because up to to-day I believed in yourkindly feeling. It has been made clear to menow that I must put up with this loss; but, whateverbe your injustice towards me, I will not depart frommy customs or from my element. The superintendenceof the Queen’s Council is for sale, or it isnot; either way, it is all the same to me. Ihave never made any claim to this office, and I nevershall.”

These words, of which I perceived the sincerity, touchedme. I made some trifling excuses to the ladyin waiting, and, tired of all these insignificantmysteries, I went and took the anonymous letter frommy bureau and showed it to the governess.

She read it thoughtfully. After having readit, she assured me that this script was a riddle toher.

Madame de Maintenon, on leaving us, made quite a deepcourtesy to my sister, which caused me pain, preservingan icy gravity and exaggerating her salutation andher courtesy.

When we were alone, I confessed to the Marquise deThianges that her words had passed all bounds, andthat she could have reached her end by other means.

“I cannot endure that woman,” she answered. “She knows that you have made her, that withoutyou she would be languishing still in her little apartmentin the Maree; and when for more than a year she seesyou neglected by the King and almost deserted, sheabandons you to your destiny, and does not condescendto offer you any consolation. I have mortifiedher; I do not repent of it in the least, and everytime that I come across her I shall permit myselfthat gratification.

“What is she thinking of at her age; with herpretensions to a fine figure, an ethereal carriage,and beauty? And yet it must be admitted thather complexion is not made up. She has the sheenof the lily mingled with that of the rose, and hereyes exhibit a smiling vivacity which leaves our greatcoquettes of the day far behind!”

“She is nature unadorned as far as her complexiongoes, believe me,” said I to my sister. “During my constant journeys she has alwaysslept at my side, and her face at waking has alwaysbeen as at noon and all day long. She relatedto us once at the Marechale d’Albret’s,where I knew her, that at Martinique—­thatdistant country which was her cradle—­anancient negress, well preserved and robust, had beenkind enough to take her into her dwelling. Thiswoman led her one day into the woods. She strippedof its bark some shrub, after having sought it a longtime. She grated this bark and mixed it withthe juice of chosen herbs. She wrapped up allthis concoction in half a banana skin, and gave thespecific to the little D’Aubigne.

“This mess having no nasty taste, the littlegirl consented to return fifteen or twenty times intothe grove, where her negress carefully composed andserved up to her the same feast.

“‘Why do you care to give me this greenpaste?’ the young creole asked her one day.

“The old woman said: ’My dear child,I cannot wait till you have enough sense to learnto understand these plants, for I love you as if youwere my own daughter, and I want to leave you a secretwhich will cause you to live a long time. ThoughI look as I do, I am 138 years old already. Iam the oldest person in the colony, and this pastethat I make for you has preserved my strength andmy freshness. It will produce the same effecton my dear little girl, and will keep her young andpretty too for a long time.’

“This negress, unhappily, fell asleep one dayunder a wild pear-tree in the Savannah, and a crocodilecame out of the river hard by and devoured her.”

“I have heard tell,” replied my sister,“that Mademoiselle d’Aubigne, after thedeath of her mother, or husband, was bound by the tiesof a close friendship with Ninon de l’Enclos,whose beauty made such a sensation among the gallants,and still occupies them.

“One was assured, you know, that Ninon possessesa potion, and that in her generosity to her friend,the fair Indian, she lent her her phial of elixir.”

“No, no,” said I to the Marquise, “thatpiece of gallantry of Ninon is only a myth; it isthe composition of Martinique, or of the negress,which is the real recipe of Madame de Maintenon. She talked of it one day, when I was present, inthe King’s carriage. His Majesty said toher: ’I am astonished that, with your naturalintelligence, you have not kept in your mind the natureof this Indian shrub and herbs; with such a secretyou would be able to-day to make many happy, and thereare some kings, who, to grow young again, would giveyou half their empire.’

“‘I am not a worshipper of riches,’said this mistress of talk; ’bad kings mightoffer me all the treasures and crowns they liked, andI would not make them young again.’

“‘And me, madame,’ said the prince,’would you consent to make me young again?’

“‘You will not need it for a long time,’she replied, cleverly, with a smile; ’but whenthe moment comes, or is near, I should set about itwith zeal.’

“The whole carriage applauded this reply, andthe King took the hand of the Marquise and insistedon kissing it.”

CHAPTER XXIV.

The Casket of M. de Lauzun.—­His HistoricalGallery.—­He Makes Some
Nuns.—­M. de Lauzun in the Lottery.—­TheLoser Wins.—­Queen out of
Pique.—­Letter from the Queen of Portugal.—­TheIngratitude of M. de
Lauzun.

Twice during the captivity of M. de Lauzun the Queenof Portugal had charged her ambassador to carry tothe King that young sovereign’s solicitationsin favour of the disgraced gentleman. Each timethe negotiators had been answered with vague and ambiguouswords; with those promises which potentates are notchary of, even between themselves, and which we poormortals of the second rank call Court holy water. These exertions of the Court of Lisbon were speedilydiscovered, and it then became known how many womenof high degree M. de Peguilain had the honour of fluttering. The officer of D’Artagnan, who had the taskof seizing his papers when he was arrested to be takento Pignerol, was obliged, in the course of his duty,to open a rather large casket, where he found theportraits of more than sixty women, of whom the greaternumber lived almost in the odour of sanctity. There were descriptive or biographical notes uponall these heroines, and correspondence to match. His Majesty had cognisance of it, and forbade thepublication of the names. But the Marquis d’Artagnanand his subordinate officer committed some almostinevitable indiscretions, and all these ladies foundtheir names public property. Several of them,who were either widows or young ladies, retired intoconvents, not daring to show their faces in the lightof day.

The Queen of Portugal, before this scandal, had passionatelyloved the Marquis de Lauzun. She was then calledMademoiselle d’Aumale, and her sister who wassoon afterwards duch*ess of Savoy was called at ParisMademoiselle de Nemours. These two princesses,after having exchanged confidences and confessions,were astonished and grieved to find themselves antagonistsand rivals. Happily they had a saving wit, bothof them, and made a treaty of peace, by which it wasrecognised and agreed that, since their patrimonywas small, it should be neither divided nor drawnupon, in order that it might make of M. de Lauzun,when he came to marry, a rich man and a great lord. The two rivals, in the excess of their love, stipulatedthat this indivisible inheritance should be drawnfor by lot, that the victorious number should haveM. de Lauzun thrown in, and that the losing numbershould go and bury herself in a convent.

Mademoiselle d’Aumale—­that is tosay, the pretty blonde—­won M. de Lauzun;but he, being bizarre in his tastes, and who only hada fancy for the brunette (the less charming of thetwo), went and besought the King to refuse his consent.

Mademoiselle d’Aumale thought of dying of griefand pique, and, as a consequence of her despair, listenedto the proposals of the King of Portugal, and consentedto take a crown.

The disgrace and imprisonment of her old friend havingreached her ear, this princess gave him the honourof her tears, although she had two husbands alive. Twice she had solicited his liberty, which was certainlynot granted in answer to her prayers.

When she learned of the release of the prisoner, sheshowed her joy publicly at it, in the middle of herCourt; wrote her congratulations upon it to Mademoiselle,apparently to annoy her, and, a few days afterwards,indited with her own hand the letter you are goingto read, addressed to the King, which was variouslycriticised.

To his majesty the king ofFrance.

Brother:—­Kings owe one another noaccount of their motives of action, especially whentheir authority falls heavily upon the officers oftheir own palace, till then invested with their confidenceand overwhelmed with the tokens of their kindness. The disgrace of the Marquis de Lauzun can only appearin my eyes an act of justice, coming as it does fromthe justest of sovereigns. So I confined myselfin the past to soliciting for this lord—­giftedwith all the talents, with bravery and merit—­yourMajesty’s pity and indulgence. He owedlater the end of his suffering, not to my instances,but to your magnanimity. I rejoice at the changein his destiny, and I have charged my ambassador atyour Court to express my sincere participation init. To-day, Sire, I beg you to accept my thanks. M. de Lauzun, so they assure me, has not been restoredto his offices, and though still young, does not obtainemployment in his country, where men of feeling andof talent are innumerable. Allow us, Sire, tosummon this exceptional gentleman to my State, whereFrench officers win easily the kindly feelings ofmy nobles, accustomed as they are to cherish all thatis born in your illustrious Empire. I will giveM. de Lauzun a command worthy of him, worthy of me,—­acommand that will enable him to render lasting andessential services to my Crown and to yours. Do not refuse me this favour, which does not at allimpoverish your armies, and which may be of use toa kingdom of which you are the protector and the friend.Accept, Sire, etc.

I did not see the answer which was vouchsafed to thissingular letter; the King did not judge me worthyto enjoy such confidence that he had made no difficultyin granting to me formerly; but he confided in Madamede Maintenon, and even charged her to obtain the opinionof Mademoiselle touching this matter, and Mademoiselle,who never hid aught from me, brought the details ofit to my country-house.

This Princess, now enlightened as to the falsenessof Monsieur de Lauzun, entreated the King to giveup this gentleman to the blond Queen, or to give hima command himself.

The Marquis de Lauzun, having learnt the steps takenby the Queen of Portugal, whom he had never been ableto endure, grew violently angry, and said in twentyhouses that he had not come out of one prison to throwhimself into another.

These were all the thanks the Queen got for her efforts;and, like Mademoiselle de Montpensier, she detested,with all her soul, the man she had loved with allher heart.

The Marquis de Lauzun was one of the handsomest menin the world; but his character spoiled everything.

CHAPTER XXV.

The Nephews, the Nieces, the Cousins and the Brotherof Madame de Maintenon.—­The King’sDebut.—­The Marshal’s Silver Staff.

The family of Madame de Maintenon had not only neglectedbut despised her when she was poor and living on herpension of two thousand francs. Since my protectionand favour had brought her into contact with the sunthat gives life to all things, and this radiant starhad shed on-her his own proper rays and light, allher relatives in the direct, oblique, and collateralline had remembered her, and one saw no one but themin her antechambers, in her chamber, and at Court.

Some of them were not examples of deportment and goodbreeding; they were gentlemen who had spent all theirlives in little castles in Angoumois and Poitou, akind of noble ploughmen, who had only their silverswords to distinguish them from their vine-growersand herds. Others, to be just, honoured thenew position of the Marquise; and amongst those I mustplace first the Marquis de Langallerie and the twosons of the Marquis de Villette, his cousin, german. The Abbe d’Aubigne, whom she had discoveredobscurely hidden among the priests of Saint Sulpice,she had herself presented to the King, who had discoveredin him the air of an apostle, and then to Pere dela Chaise, who had hastened to make him Archbishopof Rouen, reserving for him ‘in petto’the cardinal’s hat, if the favour of the ladyin waiting was maintained.

Among her lady relatives who had come from the provincesat the rumour of this favour, the Marquise distinguishedand exhibited with satisfaction the three Mademoisellesde Sainte Hermine, the daughters of a Villette, ifI am not mistaken, and pretty and graceful all threeof them. She had also brought to her Court,and more particularly attached to her person, a verypretty child, only daughter of the Marquis de Villette,and sister, consequently, of the Comte and of theChevalier de Villette, whom I have previously mentioned. This swarm of nephews, cousins, and nieces garnishedthe armchairs and sofas of her chamber. Theyserved as comrades and playfellows to the legitimateprinces and as pages of honour to my daughter; andwhen the carriage of the Marquise came into the countryfor her drives, the whole of this pretty colony formeda train and court for her,—­a proof of hercredit.

The Marquise had a brother, her elder by four or fiveyears, to whom she was greatly attached, judging fromwhat we heard her say, and to promote whom we sawher work from the very first. This brother, whowas called Le Comte d’Aubigne, lacked neithercharm nor grace. He even assumed, when he wished,an excellent manner; but this cavalier, his own masterfrom his childhood, knew no other law but his own pleasures

and desires. He had made people talk about himin his earliest youth; he awoke the same buzz of scandalnow that he was fifty. Madame de Maintenon, hopingto reform him, and wishing to constrain him to begetthem an heir, made him consent to the bonds of marriage. She had just discovered a very pretty heiress ofvery good family, when he married secretly the daughterof a mere ‘procureur du roi’. Thelady in waiting, being unable to undo what had beendone, submitted to this unequal alliance; and as hersister-in-law, ennobled by her husband, was none theless a countess, she, too, was presented.

The young person, aged fifteen at the most, was naturallyvery bashful. When she found herself in thisvast hall, between a double row of persons of importance,whose fixed gaze never left her, she forgot all thebows, all the elaborate courtesies,—­infine, all the difficult procedure of a formal presentation,that her sister-in-law and dancing-masters had beenmaking her rehearse for twenty days past.

The child lost her head, and burst into tears. The King took compassion on her, and despatched theComtesse de Merinville to go and act as her guideor mistress. Supported by this guardian angel,Madame d’Aubigne gained heart; she went throughher pausing, her interrupted courtesies, to the end,and came in fairly good countenance to the King’schair, who smiled encouragement upon her. Whilethese things were taking place in the gallery, Madamede Maintenon, in despair, her eyes full of tears, hadto make an effort not to weep. With that witof which she is so proud, she should have been thefirst to laugh at this piece of childishness, whichwas not particularly new. The embarrassment,the torture in which I saw her, filled me with a strongdesire to laugh. It was noticed; it was helda crime; and his Majesty himself was kind enough toscold me for it.

“I felt the same embarrassment,” he saidto us, “the first time Monsieur le Cardinaldesired to put me forward. It was a questionof receiving an ambassador, and of making a shortreply to his ceremonial address. I knew my replyby heart; it was not more than eight or ten lines atthe most. I was repeating it every minute whileat play, for five or six days. When it was necessaryto perform in person before this throng, my childishmemory was confused. All my part was forgottenin my fear, and I could only utter these words:’Your address, Monsieur Ambassadeur,—­Monsieurl’Ambassadeur, your address.’ Mymother, the Queen, grew very red, and was as confusedas I was. But my godfather, the Cardinal, finishedthis reply for me, which he had composed himself,and was pleased to see me out of the difficulty.”

This anecdote, evidently related to console the Marquise,filled her with gratitude. They spoke of nothingelse at Versailles for two days; after which, Madamela Comtesse d’Aubigne became, in her turn, awoman of experience, who judged the new debutantesseverely, perhaps, every time that the occasion arose.

The Comte d’Aubigne passed from an inferiorgovernment to a government of some importance. He made himself beloved by endorsing a thousand petitionsdestined for his sister, the monarch’s friend;but his immoderate expenditure caused him to contractdebts that his sister would only pay five or six times.

The Duc de Vivonne, my brother, laughed at him insociety; he unceasingly outraged by his clumsinesshis sister’s sense of discretion. One day,in a gaming-house, seeing the table covered with gold,the Marshal exclaimed at the door: “I willwager that D’Aubigne is here, and makes all thisdisplay; it is a magnificence worthy of him.”

“Yes, truly,” said the brother of thefavourite; “I have received my silver staff,you see!” That was an uncouth impertinence,for assuredly M. de Vivonne had not owed this dignityto my favour. The siege of Candia, and a thousandother distinguished actions, in which he had immortalisedhimself, called him to this exalted position, whichI dare to say he has even rendered illustrious.

The Comte d’Aubigne’s saying was no lesssuccessful on that account, and his sister, who didnot approve at all of this scandalous scene, had thegood sense to condemn her most ridiculous gamester,and to make excuses for him to my brother and me.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Political Intrigue in Hungary.—­Dignityof the King of the Romans.—­The Good Appearanceof a German Prince.—­The Turks at Vienna.—­TheDuc de Lorraine.—­The King of Rome.

Whatever the conduct of the King may have been towardsme, I do not write out of resentment or to avengemyself. But in the midst of the peace whichthe leisure that he has given me leaves me, I feelsome satisfaction in inditing the memoirs of my life,which was attached to his so closely, and wish torelate with sincerity the things I have seen.What would be the use of memoirs from which sinceritywere absent? Whom could they inspire with adesire of reading them?

The King was born profoundly ambitious. Allthe actions of his public life bore witness to it. It would be useless for him to rebut the charge;all his aims, all his political work, all his sieges,all his battles, all his bloody exploits prove it. He had robbed the Emperor of an immense quantityof towns and territories in succession. Thegreatness of the House of Austria irritated him. He had begun by weakening it in order to dominateit; and, in bringing it under his sway, he hoped todraw to himself the respect and submission of the GermanicElectoral body, and cause the Imperial Crown to passto his house, as soon as the occasion should presentit*elf.

We had often heard him say: “Monseigneurhas all the good appearance of a German prince.” This singular compliment, this praise, was not withoutmotive. The King wished that this opinion andthis portrait should go straight into Germany, andcreate there a kind of naturalisation and adoptionfor his son.

He had resolved to have him elected and proclaimedKing of the Romans, a dignity which opens, as oneknows, the road to the imperial greatness. Toattain this result, his Majesty, seconded perfectlyby his minister, Louvois, employed the following means.

By his order M. de Louvois sent the Comte de Nointelto Vienna, at the moment when that Power was workingto extend the twenty years’ truce concludedby Hungary with the Sultan. The French envoypromised secretly his adhesion to the Turks; and thelatter, delighted at the intervention of the French,became so overbearing towards the Imperial Crown thatthat Power was reduced to refusing too severe conditions.

Sustained by the insinuations and the promises ofFrance, the Sultan demanded that Hungary should beleft in the state in which it was in 1655; that henceforwardthat kingdom should pay him an annual tribute of fiftythousand florins; that the fortifications of Leopoldstadtand Gratz should be destroyed; that the chief of therevolted towns—­Nitria, Eckof, the Islandof Schutt, and the fort of Murann, at Tekelai—­shouldbe ceded; that there should be a general amnesty andrestitution of their estates, dignities, offices,and privileges without restriction.

By this the infidels would have found themselves mastersof the whole of Hungary, and would have been ableto come to the very gates of Vienna, without fearof military commanders or of the Emperor. Itwas obvious that they were only seeking a pretextfor a quarrel, and that at the suggestion of France,which was quite disposed to profit by the occasion.

The Sultan knew very little of our King. Thelatter had his army ready; his plan was to enter,or rather to fall upon, the imperial territories,when the consternation and the danger in them shouldbe at their height; and then he counted on turningto his advantage the good-will of the German princes,who, to be extricated from their difficulty, wouldnot fail to offer to himself, as liberator, the ImperialCrown, or, at least, the dignity of King of the Romansand Vicar of the Empire to his son, Monseigneur leDauphin.

In effect, hostilities had hardly commenced on thepart of the Turks, hardly had their first successes,struck terror into the heart of the German Empire,when the King, the real political author of thesedisasters, proposed to the German Emperor to intervenesuddenly, as auxiliary, and even to restore Lorraineto him, and his new conquests, on condition that thedignity of the King of the Romans should be bestowedon his son. France, this election once proclaimed,engaged herself to bring an army of 60,000 men, nominallyof the King of the Romans, into Hungary, to driveout utterly the common enemy. German officerswould be admitted, like French, into this Roman army;and more, the King of France and the new King of theRomans engaged themselves to set back the imperialfrontiers on that side as far as Belgrade, or Weissembourgin Greece. A powerful fleet was to appear inthe Mediterranean to support these operations; andthe King, wishing to crown his generosity, offeredto renounce forever the ancient possessions, and allthe rights of Charlemagne, his acknowledged forefatheror ancestor.

Whilst these dreams of ambition were being seriouslypresented to the unhappy Imperial Court of Vienna,the Turks, to the number of 300,000 men, had sweptacross Hungary like a torrent. They arrived beforethe capital of the Empire of Germany just at the momentwhen the Court had left it. They immediatelyinvested this panic-stricken town, and the inhabitantsof Vienna believed themselves lost. But the youngDuc de Lorraine, our King’s implacable enemy,had left the capital in the best condition and pitchedoutside Vienna, in a position from which he couldseverely harass the besieging Turks.

He tormented them, he raided them, while he waitedfor the saving reinforcements which were to be broughtup by the King of Poland, and the natural allies ofthe Empire. This succour arrived at last, andafter four or five combats, well directed and mostbloody, they threw the Ottomans into disorder. The Duc de Lorraine immortalised himself during thisbrilliant campaign, which he finished by annihilatingthe Turks near Barkan.

France had remained in a state of inaction in themidst of all these great events. I saw the discomfitureof our ministers and the King when the success ofthe Imperialists reached them. But the time hadpassed when my affections and those of my master wereakin. Free from henceforth to follow the impulsesof my conscience and of my sense of justice, I rejoicedsincerely at the great qualities of the poor Duc deLorraine, and at the humiliation of the cruel Turks,who had been so misled.

The elective princes of the Germanic Empire once morerallied round their august head, and disavowed almostall their secret communications with the Cabinet ofVersailles. The Emperor, having escaped fromthese great perils, addressed some noble and touchingcomplaints to our monarch; and Monseigneur was notelected King of the Romans,—­a disappointmentwhich he hardly noticed, and by which he was verylittle disturbed.

CHAPTER XXVII.

The Prince of Orange.—­The Orange Coach.—­TheBowls of Oranges.—­The Orange Blossoms.—­TheTown of Orange.—­Jesuits of Orange.—­Revocationof the Edict of Nantes.

The King, by the last peace, signed at Nimegue, hadengaged to restore the Principality of Orange to William,Stadtholder and Generalissimo of the Dutch. This article was one of those which he had found mostrepugnant to him, for nothing can be compared withthe profound aversion which the mere name inspiredin the monarch. He pushed this hatred so farthat, having one day noticed from the heights of hisbalcony a superb new equipage, of which the body waspainted with orange-coloured varnish, he sent andasked the name of the owner; and, on their reportingto him that this coach belonged to a provincial intendant,a relative of the Chancellor, his Majesty said, thesame evening, to the magistrate-minister: “Yourrelative ought to show more discretion in the choiceof the colours he displays.”

This coach appeared no more, and the silk and clothmercers had their stuffs redyed.

Another day, at the high table, the King, seeing fourbowls of big oranges brought in, said aloud beforethe public: “Take away that fruit, whichhas nothing in its favour but its look. Thereis nothing more dangerous or unhealthy.”

On the morrow these words spread through the capital,and the courtiers dared eat oranges only privatelyand in secret.

As for me, with my love for the scent of orange blossoms,the monarch’s petulance once more affected meextremely. I was obliged for some time to giveit up, like the others, and take to amber, the favouritescent of my master, which my nerves could not endure.

Before surrendering the town of Orange to the commissionersof the kinglet of the Dutch, the King of France hadthe walls thrown down, all the fortifications razed,and the public buildings, certain convents, and thelibrary of the town stripped of their works of art. These measures irritated Prince William, who, onthat account alone, wished to recommence the war;but the Emperor and the allies heard his complaintswith little attention. They even besought himto leave things as they were. M. d’Orangeis a real firebrand; he could not endure the severitiesof the King without reprisals, and no sooner was heonce more in possession of his little isolated sovereigntythan he annoyed the Catholics in it, caused all possiblealarms to the sisters of mercy and nuns, imposed enormoustaxes on the monks, and drove out the Jesuits withunheard-of insults.

The King received hospitably all these humiliatedor persecuted folk; and as he was given to understandthat the Orange Protestants were secretly sowing discontentamongst his Calvinists and French Lutherans, he preparedthe revocation of the Edict of Nantes, the famous politicalmeasure the abrogation of which took place a shorttime afterwards.

I saw, in the hands of the King, a document of sixtypages, printed at Orange, after its restitution, inwhich it was clearly specified that Hugh Capet hadset himself on the throne irregularly, and in whichthe author went to the point of saying that the Catholicreligion was only an idolatry, and that the peopleswould only be happy and free after the general introductionof the Reformation. The Marechal de Vivonne cameand told me, in strict confidence, that the Jesuits,out of resentment, had forged this document, and printedthe pamphlet themselves; but M. de Louvois, who, throughhis father, the Chancellor, and his brother, the Archbishopof Rheims, was associated with them, maintained thatthe incendiary libel was really the work of the Protestants.

My residence at the Court having opened my eyes sufficientlyto the wickedness of men, I will not give my opinion,amid these angry charges and recriminations. I confine myself to relating what I have seen.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Sickness.—­Death of the Queen.—­HerLast Words.—­The King’s Affliction.—­HisSaying.—­Second Anonymous Letter.—­Conversationwith La Dauphine.—­Madame de Maintenon Intervenes.

While the Turks and the Imperialists were fightingin the plains of Hungary, the King, followed by allhis Court, had made his way towards the frontiersof Alsace. He reviewed countless battalions,he made promotions, and gave brilliant repasts andfetes.

The season was a little trying, and the Queen, thoughborn in Spain, did not accommodate herself to theJune heat. As soon as business permitted theytook the road to the capital, and returned to Versailleswith some speed.

Scarcely had they arrived, when the Queen fell ill;it did not deserve the name of sickness. Itwas only an indisposition, pure and simple,—­anabscess in the armpit; that was all. fa*gon, theboldest and most audacious of all who ever exercisedthe art of AEsculapius, decided that, to lessen therunning, it was necessary to draw the blood to anotherquarter. In spite of the opinion of his colleagues,he ordered her to be bled, and all her blood rushedto her heart. In a short time the princess grewworse in an alarming fashion, and in a few momentswe heard that she was in her death-agony; in a fewmoments more we heard of her death.

The King wept bitterly at first, as we had seen himweep for Marie de Mancini, Louise de la Valliere,Henrietta of England, and the duch*esse de Fontanges,—­deadof his excesses. He set out at once for the Chateauof Saint Cloud, which belonged to his brother; andMonsieur, wishing to leave the field clear for him,went away to the Palais Royal with his disagreeablewife and their numerous children.

His Majesty returned two days afterwards to the Chateauof Versailles, where he, his son, and all the familysprinkled holy water over the deceased; and this littleceremony being finished, they regained in silencethe Chateau of Saint Cloud.

The aspect of that gloomy Salon of Peace, convertedinto a catafalque; the sight of that small bier, onwhich a beautiful, good, and indulgent wife was reposing;those silent images, so full of speech, awoke the justremorse of the King. His tears began once moreto flow abundantly, and he was heard to say thesewords:

“Dear, kind friend, this is the first griefyou have caused me in twenty years!”

The Infanta, as I have already related, had grantedin these latter days her entire confidence and affectionto her daughter-in-law’s lady in waiting. Finding herself sick and in danger, she summoned Madamede Maintenon; and understanding soon that those famousCourt physicians did not know how ill she was, andthat she was drawing near her last hour, she beggedthis woman, so ready in all things, to leave her nomore, and to be good enough to prepare her for death.

The Marquise wept bitterly, and perhaps even sincerely;for being unable to foresee, at that period, all thatwas to befall her in the issue, she probably entertainedthe hope of attaching herself for good to this excellentprincess. In losing her, she foresaw, or feared,if not adversity, at least a decline.

The King was courting her, it is true, and favouringher already with marked respect; but Francoise d’Aubigne,—­thoughtfuland meditative as I knew her to be, could certainlynot have failed to appreciate the voluptuous and inconstantcharacter of the monarch. She had seen severalnotorious friendships collapse in succession; and itis not at the age of forty-six or forty-seven thatone can build castles in Spain to dwell in with younglove.

The Queen, before the beginning of her death agony,herself drew a splendid ring from her finger, andwould pass it over the finger of the Marquise, towhom, some months before, she had already given herportrait. It was asserted that her last wordswere these: “Adieu, my dearest Marquise;to you I recommend and confide the King.”

In accordance with a recommendation so binding andso precise, Madame de Maintenon followed the monarchto Saint Cloud; and as great afflictions are fainto be understood and shared, these two desolate heartsshut themselves up in one room, in order to groanin concert.

The Queen having been taken to Saint Denis, the King,Madame de Maintenon, and the Court returned to Versailles,where the royal family went into mourning for theperiod prescribed by law and custom.

The Queen’s large and small apartments, so handsome,new, splendid, and magnificent, became the habitationof Madame la Dauphine; so that the lady in waiting,in virtue of her office, returned in the most naturalmanner to those apartments where she had held authority.

The Queen, without having the genius of conversationand discussion, lacked neither aplomb nor a tastefor the proprieties; she knew how to support, or,at least, to preside over a circle. The youngDauphine had neither the desire, nor the patience,nor, the tact.

The prince charged the lady in waiting to do thesethings for her. We repaired in full dress tothe Princess,—­to present our homages toMadame de Maintenon. One must admit she threwher heart into it; that is to say, she drew out, asfar as possible, the monarch’s daughter-in-law,inspiring into her every moment amiable questions oranswers, which she had taken pains to embellish andadorn in her best manner.

The King arrived; I then had the pleasure of seeinghim, not two paces from me, before my very eyes, sayingwitty and agreeable things to the Marquise; whilehe talked to me only of the rain and the weather, alwayscursorily.

It was then that I received a second anonymous letter,in the same handwriting, the same style, the sametone as that of which mention has been made. I transcribe it; it is curious.

To madame la marquise deMontespan.

Madame:—­You have not followed my formeradvice. The opportunity has gone by; it is toolate. Your superintendence is left with you,and there are four or five hundred thousand livreslying idle; for you will not be able to sell the superintendenceof a household, and of a council, which are in a tombat Saint Denis! Happily you are rich, and whatwould be a disaster to another fortune is scarcelymore than a slight disappointment to you. Itake the respectful liberty of talking once more withthe prettiest and wittiest woman of her century, inorder to submit to her certain ideas, and to offerher a fresh piece of advice, which I believe important.

The Queen, moved by a generosity seldom found in herpeers, pardoned you to some degree your theft of herspouse; she pardoned you in order to be agreeableto him, and to prove to him that, being his most sincerefriend, she could not bring herself to contest hisaffections and his pastimes. But this sublimephilosophy is at an end; the excellent heart of thisQueen is at Val-de-Grace; it will beat no more, neitherfor her volatile husband, nor for any one whatsoever.

Madame la Dauphine, brought up in German severity,and hardly accustomed to the atmosphere of her newcountry, neither likes nor respects you, nor has anyindulgence for you. She barely suffers the presenceof your children, although brothers of her husband.How should she tolerate yours? It appears, itis plain, Madame la Marquise, that your name has foundno place or footing on her list, and that she wouldrather not meet you often in her salons. Ifone may even speak to you confidentially, she hasthus expressed herself; it would be cruel for you tohear of it from any other being but me.

Believe me, believe a man as noted for his good qualitiesas for his weaknesses. He will never drive youaway, for you are the mother of his beloved children,and he has loved you himself tenderly. However,his coldness is going to increase. Will yoube sufficiently light-hearted, or sufficiently imprudent,to await on a counterscarp the rigours of Decemberand January?

Keep your wit always, Madame la Marquise, and withthis wit, which is such a charming resource, do notdivest yourself of your noble pride.

I am, always, your respectful and devoted servant,

The unknown of the chateau.

At the time of the first letter, when I had hesitatedsome time, doubtful between Madame de Maintenon andthe King, it occurred to me to suspect the Queen fora moment; but there was no possibility now of imputingto this princess, dead and gone, the unbecoming annoyancethat an unknown permitted himself to cause me.

On this occasion I chose my part resolutely; and,not wishing to busy myself any longer with these pretendedfriendly counsels which my pride forbade me to follow,I took these two insolent letters and burned them.This last letter, after all, spoke very truly. I remarked distinctly, in the looks and manner ofthe Dauphine, that ridiculous and clumsy animositywhich she had taken a fancy to lavish on me.

As she was not, in my eyes, so sublime a personagethat a lady of quality might not enter into conversationwith her, I approached her armchair with the intentionof upsetting her haughtiness and pride by compellingher to speak to me before everybody.

I complimented her on her coiffure, and even thankedher for the honour she did me in imitating me; shereddened, and I entreated her not to put herself about,assuring her that her face looked much better in itshabitual pallor. These words redoubled her dissatisfaction,and her redness then became a veritable scarlet flame.

Passing forthwith to another subject, I pronouncedin a few words a panegyric on the late Queen; to whichI skilfully added that, from the first day, she hadbeen able to understand the French graces and assumethem with intelligence and taste.

“Her Spanish accent troubled her for a yearor two longer,” added I; “strictly speaking,this accent, derived from the Italian, has nothingdisagreeable in it; while the English, Polish, Russian,and German accent is inharmonious in itself, and islost with great difficulty here.”

Seeing that my reflections irritated her, I stoppedshort, and made my excuses by saying to her, “Madame,these are only general reflections. Your Highnessis an exception, and has struck us all, as you havenothing German left but memories, and, perhaps, regrets.”

She answered me, stammering, that she had not beendestined in the first place for the throne of France,and that this want of forethought had injured hereducation; then, feeling a spark of courage in herheart, she said that the late Queen had more thanonce confided to her that the Court of France wasdisorderly in its fashions, because it was never theprincesses who gave it its tone as elsewhere.

Madame de Maintenon perceived quickly the consequencesof this saying; for the peace of the Princess, sheretorted quickly: “In France, the princessesare so kind and obliging as to follow the fashions;but the good examples and good tone come to us fromour princes, and our only merit is to imitate themwith ingenuity.”

CHAPTER XXIX.

Judgment Given by the Chatelet.—­The Marquisd’Antin Restored to His Father.—­TheJudgment is Not Executed.—­Full Mourning.—­FuneralService.—­The Notary of Saint Elig.—­TheLettre de Cachet.

The Marquis d’Antin, my son, with the consentof the King, had remained under my control, and hadnever consented to quit me to rejoin his father. M. de Montespan, at the time of the suit for judicialseparation before the Chatelet, had caused his advocateto maintain this barbarous argument, that a son, thoughbrought into the world by his mother, ought to sideagainst her if domestic storms arise, and prefer toeverybody and everything the man whose arms and namehe bears.

The tribunal of the Chatelet, trampling upon maternaltenderness and humanity, granted his claim in full;and I was advised not to appeal, now that I had obtainedthe thing essential to me, a separation in body andestate.

M. de Montespan dared not come himself to Paris inorder to execute the sentence; he sent for that purposetwo officers of artillery, his friends or relatives,who were authorised to see the young Marquis at hiscollege, but not to withdraw him before the close ofhis humanities and classes. These gentlemen,having sent word to the father that the young D’Antinwas my living image, he replied to them, that theywere to insist no longer, to abandon their mission,and to abandon a child who would never enjoy his favoursince he resembled myself. Owing to this happycirc*mstance I was able to preserve my son.

Since these unhappy disputes, and the suit which madeso much noise, I had heard no more talk of M. de Montespanin society. I only learned from travellers thathe was building, a short distance from the Pyrenees,a chateau of a noble and royal appearance, where hehad gathered together all that art, joined with goodtaste, could add to nature; that this chateau of SaintElix, adorned with the finest orange grove in the world,was ascribed to the liberality of the King. TheMarquis, hurt by this mistake of his neighbours, whichhe called an accusation, published a solemn justificationin these ingenuous provinces, and he proved, as aclerk might do to his master, that this enormous expenditurewas exclusively his own.

Suddenly the report of his death spread through thecapital, and the Marquis d’Antin received withoutdelay an official letter with a great, black seal,which announced to him this most lamentable event. The notary of Saint Elix, in sending him this sadnews, took the opportunity of enclosing a certifiedcopy of the will.

This testament, replete with malignity, having beenfreely published in the capital, I cannot refrainfrom reproducing it in these writings.

Here are its principal clauses;

In the name of the most blessed Trinity, etc.

Since I cannot congratulate myself on a wife, who,diverting herself as much as possible, has causedme to pass my youth and my life in celibacy, I contentmyself with leaving, her my life-sized portrait, byBourdon, begging her to place it in her bedchamber,when the King ceases to come there.

Although the Marquis de Pardailhan d’Antin isprodigiously like his mother (a circ*mstance of whichI have been lamentably sensible!), I do not hesitateto believe him my son. In this quality I giveand bequeath to him all my goods, as my eldest son,imposing on him, nevertheless, the following legacies,liberalities and charges:

I leave to their Highnesses, M. le Duc du Maine, M.le Comte de Toulouse, Mademoiselle de Nantes, andMademoiselle de Blois (born during my marriage withtheir mother, and consequently my presumptive children),their right of legitimacy on the charge and conditionof their bearing in one of their quarterings the Pardailhan-Montespanarms.

I take the respectful liberty of here thanking myKing for the extreme kindness which he has shown tomy wife, nee De Mortemart, to my son D’Antin,to his brothers and sisters, both dead and living,and also to myself, who have only been dismissed,and kept in exile:

In recognition of which I give and bequeath to hisMajesty my vast chateau of Montespan, begging himto create and institute there a community of RepentantLadies, to wear the habit of Carmelites or of theDaughters of the Conception, on the special chargeand condition that he place my wife at the head ofthe said convent, and appoint her to be first Abbess.

I attach an annuity of sixty thousand livres to thisnoble institution, hoping that this will make up thedeficiency, if there be any.

De Pardailhan de Gondran Montespan,Separated, although inseparable spouse.

A family council being held to decide what I mustdo on this occasion, Madame de Thianges, M. de Vivonne,and M. de Blanville-Colbert decided that I must wearthe same full mourning as my son D’Antin. As for this odious will, it was agreed that it shouldnot even be spoken of, and that the notary of SaintElix should be written to at once, to place it in thehands of a third party, of whom he would be presentlynotified at the place. The Marquis d’Antinat once had my equipage and his own draped. Wehastened to put all our household into mourning fromtop to toe, and the funeral service, with full ritual,was ordered to be performed at the parish church. The very same day, as the family procession was aboutto set out on its way to the church, a sort of sergeant,dressed in black, handed a fresh letter to the Marquisd’Antin. It contained these words:

The notary of Saint Elix deserves a canonry in theChapter of Charenton; it is not the Marquis de Montespanwho is dead; they have played a trick on you.

The only truth in all of it is the will, of whichthe notary of Saint Elix has been in too great a hurryto send a copy. A thousand excuses to M. leMarquis d’Antin and his mother, Madame la Marquise.

It was necessary to send orders at once to the parishchurch to take away the catafalque and the drapings. The priests and the musicians were paid as if theyhad done what they ought to do; and my widowhood, which,at another time, might have been of such importance,was, I dare to say, indifferent to me.

The King was informed of what had just taken placein my family. He spoke of it as an extremelydisagreeable affair. I answered him that itwas far more disagreeable for me than for any one else. His Majesty added:

“Tell the Marquis d’Antin to go to SaintElix and pay his respects to his father. Thisjourney will also enable him to learn if such a ridiculouswill really exists, and if your husband has reachedsuch a pitch of independence. D’Antinwill beg him, on my behalf, to tear up that document,and to earn my favour by doing so.”

My son, after consulting with his Majesty, startedindeed for the Pyrenees. His father at firstgave him a cold welcome. The next day the Marquisdiscovered the secret of pleasing him; and M. de Montespan,at this full mourning, this family council, and atthe catafalque in the middle of the church, promisedto alter the will on condition that his ‘lettredo cachet’ should be revoked and quashed withinthe next fortnight.

The King agreed to these demands, which did not anylonger affect him. I was the only person sacrificed.

CHAPTER XXX.

The Duc du Maine Provided with the Government of Languedoc.—­TheYoung Prince de Conti.—­His Piety.—­HisApostasy.—­The Duc de la Feuillade Burlesqued.—­TheWatch Set with Diamonds.—­The False Robber.—­Sceneamongst the Servants.

The old Duc de Verneuil, natural son of King HenriIV., died during these incidents, leaving the governmentof Languedoc vacant. The King summoned M. leDuc du Maine at once, and, embracing him with his usualtenderness, he said to him: “My son, thoughyou are very young, I make you governor of Languedoc. This will make many jealous of you; do not worry aboutthem, I am always here to defend you. Go at onceto Mademoiselle’s, who has just arrived at Versailles,and tell her what I have done for her adopted child.”

I went to thank his Majesty for this favour, whichseemed to me very great, since my son was not twelveyears old. The King said to me: “Herecomes the carriage of the Prince de Conti; you maybe certain that he comes to ask me for this place.”

In fact, those were the first words of the Princede Conti.

“The government for which you ask,” saidthe King, “has been for a long time promisedto Madame de Maintenon for her Duc du Maine. I intend something else for you, my dear cousin. Trust in me. In giving you my beloved daughterI charged myself with your fortunes; you are on mylist, and in the first rank.”

The young Prince changed colour. He entreatedthe King to believe him worthy of his confidence andesteem, to which he imprudently added these words:“My wife was born before M. du Maine.”

“And you, too,” replied his Majesty; “areyou any the more sober for that? There are somelittle youthful extravagances in your conduct whichpain me. I leave my daughter in ignorance ofthem, because I wish her to be at peace. Endeavourto prevent her being informed of them by yourself. Govern yourself as a young man of your birth oughtto govern himself; then I will hand a government overto you with pleasure.”

The Prince de Conti appeared to me very much affectedby this homily and disappointment. He salutedme, however, with a smile of benevolence and the greatestamenity. We learnt a short time afterwards thathis wife had shed many tears, and was somewhat setagainst my children and myself.

This amiable Princess then was not aware that thegovernment of Languedoc was not granted at my instance,but at the simple desire of Madame de Maintenon; theKing had sufficiently explained it.

Just at this moment M. le Prince de Conti had madehimself notable by his attachment or his deferencetowards matters of religion and piety. His superbchariot and his peach-coloured liveries were to beseen, on fete-days, at the doors of the great churches. He suddenly changed his manoeuvres, and refused tosubject himself to restraints which led him no whither. He scoffed publicly at the Jesuits, the Sulpicians,and their formal lectures and confraternities; herefused to distribute the blessed bread at his parishchurch, and heard mass only from his chaplains andin his palace.

This ill-advised behaviour did not improve his position. Madame, his wife, continued to come to Versailleson gala-days, or days of reunion, but he and his brotherappeared there less and less frequently. Theywere exceedingly handsome, both of them; not throughtheir father, whose huge nose had rendered him ridiculous,but through the Princess, their mother, Anna or Feliciade Martinozzi, niece of Cardinal Mazarin. Godhad surpassed himself in creating that graceful head,and those eyes will never have their match in sweetnessand beauty.

Free now to follow his own tastes, which only policyhad induced him to dissimulate and constrain, M. deConti allowed himself all that a young prince, richand pleasure-loving, could possibly wish in this world.In the midst of these reunions, consecrated to pleasure,and even to debauchery, he loved to signalise hislordly liberality; nothing could stop him, nothingwas too extravagant for him. His passion wasto remove all obstacles and pay for everybody.

His joyous companions cried out with admiration, andcelebrated, in prose and verse, so noble a taste andvirtues so rare. The young orphan inhaled thisincense with delight; he contracted enormous debts,and soon did not know where to turn to pay them.

The King, well informed of these excesses, commandedM. le Duc de la Feuillade to have the young man followed,and inform himself of all he did.

One day, when M. de la Feuillade himself had followedhim too closely, and forced him, for the space ofan hour, to scour over all Le Marais in useless andfatiguing zigzags, M. de Conti, who recognised himperfectly, in spite of his disguise, pretended thathis watch, set with diamonds, had been stolen. He pointed out this man as the thief to his readyservingmen, who fell upon M. de la Feuillade, and,stripping him to find the watch, gave the Prince timeto escape and reach his place of rendezvous.

The captain was ill for several days, and even indanger, in consequence of this adventure, which didnot improve the credit of M. le Prince de Conti, muchas it needed improvement.

His young and beautiful wife excused him in everything,ignoring, and wishing to ignore, the extent of hisguilt and frivolity.

CHAPTER XXXI.

A Funeral and Diversions.—­Sinister Dream.—­FuneralOrations of the Queen.

It remains for me to relate certain rather curiouscirc*mstances in relation to the late Queen, afterwhich I shall speak of her no more in these Memoirs.

She was left for ten days, lying in state, in themortuary chapel of Versailles, where mass was beingsaid by priests at four altars from morning till evening. She was finally removed from this magnificent Palaceof Enchantment to Saint Denis. Numerous carriagesfollowed the funeral car, and in all these carriageswere the high officials, as well as the ladies, whohad belonged to her. But what barbarity! whatingratitude! what a scandal! In all these mournfulcarriages, people talked and laughed and made themselvesagreeable; and the body-guards, as well as the gendarmesand musketeers, took turns to ride their horses intothe open plain and shoot at the birds.

Monsieur le Dauphin, after Saint Denis, went to lieat the Tuileries, before betaking himself to the serviceon the following day at Notre Dame. In the evening,instead of remaining alone and in seclusion in hisapartment, as a good son ought to have done, he wentto the Palais Royal to see the Princess Palatine andher husband, whom he had had with him all the day;he must have distraction, amusem*nt, and even merryconversations, such as simple bourgeois would not permitthemselves on so solemn an occasion, were it onlyout of decorum.

In the midst of these ridiculous and indefensibleconversations, the news arrived that the King hadbroken his arm. The Marquis de Mosny had startedon the instant in order to inform the young Princeof it; and Du Saussoi, equerry of his Majesty, arrivedhalf an hour later, giving the same news with thedetails.

The King (who was hunting during the obsequies ofhis wife) had fallen off his horse, which he had notbeen able to prevent from stumbling into a ditch fullof tall grass and foliage. M. Felix, a skilfuland prudent surgeon, had just set the arm, which wasonly put out of joint. The King sent word tothe Dauphin not to leave the Tuileries, and to attendthe funeral ceremony on the morrow.

The fair of Saint Laurence was being held at thismoment, although the city of Paris had manifestedan intention of postponing it. They were exhibitingto the curious a little wise horse which bowed, calculated,guessed, answered questions, and performed marvels. The King had strictly forbidden his family and thepeople of the Court to let themselves be seen at thisfair. Monsieur le Dauphin, none the less, wishedto contemplate, with his own eyes, this extraordinaryand wonderful little horse. Consequently, hehad to be taken to the Chateau des Tuileries, wherehe took a puerile amusem*nt in a spectacle in itselftrivial, and, at such a time, scandalous.

The poor Queen would have died of grief if the deathof her son had preceded hers, against the order ofnature; but the hearts of our children are not disposedlike ours, and who knows how I shall be treated myselfby mine when I am gone?

With regard to the King’s arm, Madame d’Orleans,during the service for the Queen, was pleased to relateto the Grande Mademoiselle that, three or four daysbefore, she had seen, in a somewhat troublesome andpainful dream, the King’s horse run away, andthrow him upon the rocks and brambles of a precipice,from which he was rescued with a broken arm. Alady observed that dreams are but vague and uncertainindications.

“Not mine,” replied Madame, with ardour;“they are not like others. Five or sixdays before the Queen fell ill, I told her, in thepresence of Madame la Dauphine, that I had a mostalarming dream. I had dreamt that I was in alarge church all draped in black. I advancedto the sanctuary; a vault was opened at one side ofthe altar. Some kind of priests went down, andthese folk said aloud, as they came up again, thatthey had found no place at first; that the cavity havingseemed to them too long and deep, they had arrangedthe biers, and had placed there the body of the lady. At that point I awoke, quite startled, and not myself.”

Hardly had the Princess finished her story, when theInfanta, turning pale, said to her: “Madame,you will see, the dream of the vault refers to me. At the funeral of the Queen of England I noticed,and remember, that the same difficulty occurred atSaint Denis; they were obliged to push up all thecoffins, one against the other.”

And, in truth, we knew, a few days afterwards, thatfor this poor Queen, Maria Theresa, the monks of theabbey had found it necessary to break down a strongbarrier of stones in their subterranean church, toremove the first wife of Gaston, mother of Mademoiselle,and find a place for the Spanish Queen who had arrivedin those regions.

There were several funeral orations on this occasion. Not a single one of these official discourses deservedto survive the Queen. There was very littleto say about her, I admit; but these professionalpanegyrists, these liars in surplice, in black cassock,or in purple and mitre, are not too scrupulous toborrow facts and material in cases where the deadperson has neglected to furnish or bequeath it them.

In my own case I congratulated myself on this sortof indifference or literary penury; an indiscreetperson, sustained by zeal or talent, might have wishedto mortify me in a romance combined of satire and religion.

CHAPTER XXXII.

Jean Baptiste Colbert.—­His Death.—­HisGreat Works.—­His Last Advice to the Marquise.

M. Colbert had been ailing for a long time past. His face bore visible testimony against his health,to which his accumulated and incessant labour hadcaused the greatest injury. We had just marriedhis son Blainville to my niece, Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente,heiress of the house of Rochchouart. Since thisunion—­the King’s work—­M.Colbert had somewhat tended in my favour, and I hadreason to count on his good offices and kindness. I said to him one day that my quarrel with him wasthat he did not look after himself, that he ignoredall his own worth, treated himself with no more respectthan a mere clerk; that he was the indispensable man,the right hand of the King, his eye of vigilance ineverything, and the pillar of his business and hisfinance.

Without being precisely what one would call a modestman, M. Colbert was calm of mind, and by nature withoutpose or presumption. He cared sincerely forthe King’s glory. He held his tongue onthe subject of great enterprises, but employed muchzeal and ability in promoting the success of goodprojects and ideas, such as, for instance, our Indiesand Pondicherry.

He had known how to procure, without oppressing anyone, the incalculable sums that had been necessitated,not only by enormous and almost universal wars, butby all those canals, all those ports in the Mediterraneanor the ocean, that vast creation of vessels, arsenals,foundries, military houses and hospitals which we hadseen springing up in all parts. He had procuredby his application, his careful calculations, thewherewithal to build innumerable fortresses, aqueducts,fountains, bridges, the Observatory of Paris, the RoyalHospital of the Invalides, the chateaus of the Tuileriesand of Vincennes, the engine and chateau of Marly,that prodigious chateau of Versailles, with its Trianonof marble, which by itself might have served as a habitationfor the richest monarchs of the Orient.

He had founded the wonderful glass factories, andthose of the Gobelins; he had raised, as though bya magic ring, the Royal Library over the gardens andgalleries of Mazarin; and foreigners asked one another,in their surprise, what they must admire most in thatmonument, the interior pomp of the edifice or itsrich collection of books, coins, and manuscripts.

To all these works, more than sufficient to immortalisetwenty ministers, M. Colbert was adding at this momentthe huge ‘salpetriere’ of Paris and thecolonnades of the Louvre. Ruthless death cameto seize him in the midst of these occupations, sonoble, useful, and glorious.

The great Colbert, worn out with fatigue, watching,and constraint, left the King, his wife, his children,his honours, his well-earned riches, and displayedno other anxiety than alarm as to his salvation,—­asthough so many services rendered to the nation andto his prince were no more, in his eyes, than vainworks in relation to eternity.

Madame de Maintenon, having become a great lady, could,not reasonably continue her office of governess tothe King’s children. M. Colbert, thatman of vigour, that Mount Atlas, capable of supportingall things without a plaint, had been charged withthe care of the two new-born princes.

Because of the third Mademoiselle de Blois, and ofthe little Comte de Toulouse, I saw the minister frequently,and I was one of the first to remark the change inhis face and his health.

During his last illness, I visited him more often. One day, of his own accord, he said to me:

“How do you get on with Madame de Maintenon? I have never heard her complain of you; but I makeyou this confidence out of friendship. His Majestycomplains of your attitude towards your former friend. If the frankness of your nature and the impatienceof your humour have sometimes led you too far, I exhortyou to moderate yourself, in your own interest andin that of your children. Madame de Maintenonis an amiable and witty person, whose society pleasesthe King. Have this consideration for a hard-workingprince, whom intellectual recreation relaxes and diverts,and make a third at those pleasant gatherings whereyou shone long before this lady, and where you wouldnever be her inferior. Go there, and frequently,instead of keeping at a distance in an attitude ofresentment, which, do not doubt, is noticed and viewedunfavourably.”

“But, monsieur,” I answered M. Colbert,“you are not, then, aware that every time Iam a third person at one of these interminable conversations,I always meet with some mark of disapproval, and sometimeswith painful mortifications?”

“I have been told so,” the sick man replied;“but I have also been told that you imprudentlycall down on yourself these outbursts of the King.What need have you to quarrel with Madame de Maintenonover a look, a word, a movement or a gesture? You seem to me persuaded that love enters into theKing’s friendship for the Marquise. Well,suppose you have guessed aright his Majesty’ssentiments; will your dissatisfaction and your sarcasmsprevent those sentiments from existing, and the princefrom indulging them?

“You know, madame, that he generally gets everythinghe wants, and M. de Montespan experienced that whenhe wished to set himself against your joint wills.

“I am nearer my end and my release than my doctorsthink. In leaving this whirlpool of disappointments,ambitions, errors, and mutual injustice, I shouldlike to see you free, at peace, reconciled to yourreal interests, and out of reach, forever, of the vicissitudesof fortune. In my eyes, your position is thatof a ship-owner whom the ocean has constantly favoured,and who has reaped great riches. With moderationand prudence, it depended on himself to profit by hisastonishing success, and at last to enjoy his life;but ambition and vain desire drive him afresh uponthis sea, so fruitful in shipwrecks, and his lastventure destroys all his prosperity and all his manylabours.

“Our excellent Queen has gone to rest from hertroubles and her journeys; and I, madame, am goingto rest not long after her, having worn out my strengthon great things that are as nothing.”

The Marquis de Seignelay, eldest son of this minister,counted on succeeding to the principal offices ofhis father. He made a mistake. The placeof secretary of state and controller-general passedto the President Pelletier, who had been chosen byM. Colbert himself; and the superintendence of buildings,gardens, and works went to swell the numerous functionsof the Marquis de Louvois, who wished for and countedon it.

Mm. de Blainville and Seignelay had good posts,proportioned to their capacity; the King never ceasedto look upon them as the children of his dear M. Colbert.

[It mast be remembered that the young Marquis de Seignelaywas already Minister of Marine, an office which remainedwith him.—­Ed.]

Before his death, this minister saw his three daughtersbecome duch*esses. The King, who had been pleasedto make these marriages, had given each of them adowry of a million in cash.

As for the Abbe Colbert, already promoted to the Bishopricof Montpellier (to which three important abbeys werejoined), he had the Archbishopric of Toulouse, withan immense revenue. It is true that he took apleasure in rebuilding his archiepiscopal palace andcathedral out of a huge and ancient treasure, whichhe discovered whilst pulling down some old ruin tomake a salon.

One might say that there was some force of attractionattached to this family and name of Colbert. Treasures arose from the earth to give themselvesup and obey them.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

Mesdemoiselles de Mazarin.—­The Age of Puberty.—­Madamede
Beauvais.—­Anger of the Queen-mother.—­TheCardinal’s Policy.—­First
Love.—­Louis de Beauvais.—­TheAbbe de Rohan-Soubise.—­The Emerald’s
Lying-in.—­The Handsome Musketeer.—­TheCounterfeit of the King.

At the time when the King, still very young, was submittingwithout impatience to the authority of the Queen,his mother, and his godfather, the Cardinal, his strengthunderwent a sudden development, and this lad became,all at once, a man. The numerous nieces of CardinalMazarin, who were particularly dear to the Queen,were as much at the Louvre as at their own home. Anne of Austria, naturally affable, gladly releasedthem from the etiquette which was imposed upon everyone else. These young ladies played and laughed,sang or frolicked, after the manner of their years,and the young King lived frankly and gaily in theirmidst, as one lives with agreeable sisters, when oneis happy enough to have such. He lived fraternallywith these pretty Italian girls, but his intimacystopped there, since the Cardinal and the governesswatched night and day over a young man who was greatlysubject to surveillance.

At the same time, there was amongst the Queen’swomen a rather pretty waiting-maid, well brought up,who was called Madame de Beauvais. Those brunettes,with black eyes, bright complexions, and graceful plumpness,are almost always wanton and alluring. Madamede Beauvais noticed the sudden development of themonarch, his impassioned reveries which betrayed themselvesin his gaze. She thought she had detected intentionson his part, and an imperious need of explaining himself. A word, which was said to her in passing, authorisedher, or seemed to authorise her, to make an almostintelligible reply. The young wooer showed himselfless undecided, less enigmatic,—­and theunderstanding was completed.

Madame de Beauvais was the recipient of the prince’sfirst emotions, and the clandestine connection lastedfor three months. Anne of Austria, informedof what was passing, wished at first to punish herfirst maid in waiting; but the Cardinal, more circ*mspect,represented to her that this connection, of whichno one knew, was an occupation, not to say a safeguard,for the young King, whose fine constitution and healthnaturally drew him to the things of life. “Althougheighteen years of age,” he added, “theprince abandons the whole authority to you; whereasanother, in his place, would ardently dispute it. Do not let us quarrel with him about trifles; leavehim his Beauvais lady, so that he may make no attempton my pretty nieces nor on your authority, madame,nor on my important occupations, which are for thegood of the State.”

Anne of Austria, who was more a Christian and a motherthan a diplomatic woman, found it very painful toappreciate these arguments of the Cardinal; but aftersome reflection she recognised their importance, andthings remained as they were.

Madame de Beauvais had a son, whom the husband (whetheroverconfident or not) saw brought into the world withmuch delight, and whom, with a wealth of royalistrespect, they baptised under the agreeable name ofLouis. This child, who had a fine figure andconstitution, received a particularly careful education. He has something of the King about him, principallyin his glance and smile. He presents, however,only the intellectual habit of his mother, and evena notable absence of grandeur and elevation. He is a very pretty waiting-woman, dressed out asa cavalier; in a word, he is that pliant and indefatigablecourtier, whom we see everywhere, and whom town andCourt greet by the name of Baron de Beauvais.

His sister is the duch*esse de Richelieu, true daughterof her father, as ugly, or rather as lacking in charm,as he is; but replete with subtilty and intelligence,—­withthat intelligence which perpetually suggests a humbleorigin, and which wearies or importunes, because ofits ill-nature. At the age of seventeen, herfreshness made her pass for being pretty. Sheaccused the young Duc de Richelieu of having seducedher, and made her a mother; and he, in his fear ofher indignation and intrigues, and of the reproachesof the Queen, hastened to confess his fault, and torepair everything by marrying her.

Baron Louis, her brother, to whom the King could hardlyrefuse anything, made her a lady of honour to theDauphine. Madame de Richelieu delighted to spreada report in the world that I had procured her thisoffice; she was deceived, and wished to be deceived. I had asked this eminent position for the Marquisede Thianges, in whom I was interested very differently. His Majesty decided that a marquise was inferior toa duch*ess, even when that duch*ess was born a De Beauvais. Another son of the monarch, well known at the Courtas such, is M. l’Abbe de Rohan-Soubise, to whomthe cardinal’s hat is already promised. His figure, his carriage, his head, his attitude,his whole person infallibly reveal him; and the Princede Soubise has so thoroughly recognised and understoodthe deceit, that he honours the young churchman withall his indifference and his respect. He actswith him as a sort of guardian; and that is the limitationof his role.

The Princesse de Soubise, who had resolved to advanceher careless husband, either to the government ofBrittany or to some ministry, persuaded herself thatit is only by women that men can be advanced; andthat in order to advance a husband, it is necessaryto advance oneself. Although a little thin, andlacking that of which the King is so fond, we sawin her a very pretty woman. She knew how to persuade

his Majesty that she cherished for him the tenderestlove. That is, I believe, the one trap thatit is possible to set for him. He is credulouson that head; he was speedily caught. And everytime that M. de Rohan was away, and there was freedomat the Hotel Soubise, the Princess came in personto Saint Germain or to Versailles, to show her necklaceand pendant of emeralds to the King. Such wasthe agreed signal.

The Abbe de Rohan was born of these emeralds. The King displays conscience in all his actions,except in his wars and conquests. When the littleSoubise was grown up, his Majesty signified to themother that this young man must enter the Church,not wishing to suffer the formation of a parasiticalbranch amongst the Rohans, which would have participated,without any right, in the legitimate sap. Itis asserted that the Abbe de Rohan only submittedwith infinite regret to a sentence which neutralisedhim. The King has promised him all possibleconsideration; he has even embraced him tenderly, anaction which is almost equivalent to a “declarationof degree” made to the Parliament.

The other child alleged to the King is that handsomemusketeer, who is so like him. But, judgingfrom the King’s character, which respects, andin some fashion almost admires itself, in everythingwhich proceeds from it, I do not venture to believein this musketeer. The King wished one day tosee him close by, and even accosted him by the orange-shrubbery;but this movement seemed to me one of pure curiosity.

The resemblance, I must confess, is the most strikingthat I have yet seen; for it is complete, even tothe tone of the voice. But a look might haveoperated this miracle. Instance the little negress,the daughter of the poor Queen, that Queen so timidand entirely natural, who, to her happiness, as muchas to her glory, has never looked at, approached,or distinguished any one except the King.

For the rest, we shall see and know well if the Kingdoes anything for his musketeer.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

The Young Nobility and the Turks.—­PrivateCorrespondence.—­The Unlucky Minister andthe Page of Strasburg.—­The King Judged andDescribed in All the Documents.—­The KingHumiliated in His Affections.—­Scandal atCourt.—­Grief of Fathers at Having GivenLife to Such Children.—­Why Prince EugeneWas Not a Bishop.—­Why He Was Not a Colonelof France.—­Death of the Prince de Conti.

As France was at peace at the moment when the threehundred thousand Turks swarmed over Hungary and threatenedVienna, our young princes, and a fairly large numberof nobles of about the same age, took it into theirheads to go and exhibit their bravery in Germany; theyasked permission of M. de Louvois to join the Imperialists. This permission was granted to some amongst them,but refused to others. Those whom it was thoughtfit to restrain took no notice of the words of theminister, and departed as resolutely as though theKing had fallen asleep. They were arrested onthe road; but his Majesty, having reflected on thematter, saw that these special prohibitions woulddo harm to the intentions which he had with regardto his deference for Germany, and they were all allowedto go their own way.

A little later, it was discovered that there was aregular and active correspondence between these youngpeople in Germany and others who had remained in Parisor at the Court. The first minister had a certainpage, one of the most agile, pursued; he was caughtup with at Strasburg; his valise was seized. The Marquis de Louvois, desiring to give the Kingthe pleasure of himself opening these mysterious letters,handed him the budget, the seals intact, and his Majestythanked him for this attention. These thankswere the last that that powerful minister was destinedto receive from his master; his star waned from thathour, never again to recover its lustre; all his creditfailed and crashed to the ground. This correspondence—­spiedon with so much zeal, surprised and carried off withsuch good fortune—­informed the astonishedmonarch that, in the Louvois family, in his houseand circle, his royal character, his manners, hisaffections, his tastes, his person, his whole life,were derisively censured. The beloved son-in-lawof the minister, speaking with an open heart to hisfriends, who were travelling, and absent, representedthe King to them as a sort of country-gentleman, givenup now to the domestic and uniform life of the manor-house,more than ever devoted to his dame bourgeoise, andmaking love ecstatically at the feet of this youngnymph of fifty seasons.

M. de la Roche-Guyon and M. de Liancourt, sons ofLa Rochefoucauld, who expressed themselves with thesame boldness, went so far as to say of their rulerthat he was but a stage and tinsel king. Theson-in-law of Louvois accused him of being most courageousin his gallery, but of turning pale on the eve, andat the moment, of an action; and D’Alincourt,son of Villeroi, carried his outrages further still.No one knows better than myself how unjust these accusationswere, and are. I was sensible of the mortificationsuch a reading must have caused to the most sensitive,the most irritable of princes; but I rejoiced at thehumiliation that the lady in waiting felt for her sharein this unpardonable correspondence. The annoyancethat I read for some days on her handsome face consoledme, for the time being, for her great success at myexpense.

Madame la Princesse de Conti, whom the King, up tothis time, had not only cherished but adored, foundalso, in those documents, the term of excessive favour. A letter from her to her husband said: “Ihave just given myself a maid of honour, wishing tospare Madame de Maintenon the trouble, or the pleasure,of giving me one herself.”

She was summoned to Versailles, as she may very wellhave expected. The King, paying no attentionto her tears, said to her: “I believed inyour affection; I have done everything to deserveit; it is lamentable to me to be unable to count onit longer. Your cruel letter is in Madame deMaintenon’s hands. She will let you readit again before committing it to the fire, and I begyou to inform her what is the harm she has done you.”

“Madame,” said Madame de Maintenon toher, when she saw her before her, “when youramiable mother left this Court, where the slightestprosperity attracts envy, I promised her to take somecare of your childhood, and I have kept my word.

“I have always treated you with gentleness andconsideration; whence proceeds your hate against meof to-day? Is your young heart capable of it? I believed you to be a model of gratitude and goodness.”

“Madame,” replied the young Princess,weeping, “deign to pardon this imprudence ofmine and to reconcile me with the King, whom I loveso much.”

“I have not the credit which you assume me tohave,” replied the lady in waiting, coldly. “Except for the extreme kindness of the Kingyou would not be where you are, and you take it illthat I should be where I am! I have neither desirednor solicited the arduous rank that I occupy; I needresignation and obedience to support such a burden.” Madame de Maintenon resumed her work. The Princess,not daring to interrupt her silence, made the bowthat was expected of her and withdrew.

The Marquis de Louvois, when he read what his ownson-in-law dared to write of the monarch, grew paleand swooned away with grief. He cast himselfseveral times before the feet of his master, askingnow the punishment and now the pardon of a criminaland a madman.

“I believed myself to be loved by your family,”cried the King. “What must I do, then,to be loved? And, great God! with what a setI am surrounded!”

All these things transpired. Soon we saw thefather of the audacious De Liancourt arrive like aman bereft of his wits. He ran to precipitatehimself at the feet of the King.

“M. de La Rochefoucauld,” said the princeto him, “I was ignorant, until this day, thatI was lacking in what is called martial prowess; butI shall at least have, on this occasion, the courageto despise the slanderous slights of these presumptuousyouths. Do not talk to me of the submissionsand regrets of your two sons, who are unworthy of you;let them live as far away from me as possible; theydo not deserve to approach an honest man, such astheir King.”

The Prince de Turenne,

[The Prince de Turenne was in bad odour at Court eversince he had separated Monseigneur from his youngwife by exaggerating that Princess’s small failings.—­Madamede Montespan’s note.]

son of the Duc de Bouillon, and Prince Eugene of Savoy,third or fourth son of the Comtesse de Soissons (OlympeMancini), had accompanied their cousins De Conti onthis knightly expedition; all these gentlemen returnedat the conclusion of the war, except Prince Eugene,a violent enemy of the King.

This young Prince of the second branch, seeing hismother’s disgrace since the great affair ofthe poison, hated me mortally. He carried histreachery so far as to attribute to me the misfortunesof Olympe, saying, and publishing all over Paris,that I had incited accusers in order to be able todeprive her forcibly of her superintendence. This post, which had been sold to me for four hundredthousand francs, had been paid for long since; thatdid not prevent Eugene from everywhere affirming thecontrary.

Since the flight or exile of his lady mother, he hadtaken it into his head to dream of the episcopate,and to solicit Pere de la Chaise on the subject. But the King, who does not like frivolous or absurdfigures in high offices, decided that a little manwith a deformity would repel rather than attract deferenceat a pinnacle of dignity of the priesthood.

Refused for the episcopate, M. de Soissons thoughthe might offer himself as a colonel. His Majesty,who did not know the military ways of this abbe, refusedhim anew, both as an abbe and as a hunchback, and asa public libertine already degraded by his irregularities.

From all these refusals and mortifications there sprunghis firm resolve to quit France. He had beenborn there; he left all his family there except hismother; he declared himself its undying enemy, andsaid publicly in Germany that Louis XIV. would shedtears of blood for the injury and the affront whichhe had offered him.

Mm. de Conti, after the events in Hungary andat Vienna, returned to France covered with laurels. They came to salute the King at Versailles.His Majesty gave them neither a good nor a bad reception. The Princes left the same day for Chantilly, whereM. de Conde, their paternal uncle, tried to curb theirtoo romantic imaginations and guaranteed their goodbehaviour in the future.

This life, sedentary or spent in hunting, began toweary them, when overruling Providence was pleasedto send them a diversion of the highest importance. M. le Prince de Conti was seized suddenly with thatburning fever which announces the smallpox. Every imaginable care was useless; he died of it andbequeathed, in spite of himself, a most premature andafflicting widowhood to his young and charming spouse,who was not, till long afterwards, let into the secretof his scandalous excesses.

M. de la Roche-sur-Yon, his only brother, was as distressedat his death as though he had nothing to gain by it;he took immediately the name of Conti, and doffedthe other, which he had hitherto borne as a borrowedtitle. The domain and county of La Roche-sur-Yonbelongs to the Grande Mademoiselle. She hadbeen asked to make this condescension when the youngPrince was born. She agreed with a good grace,for the child, born prematurely, did not seem likelyto live.

CHAPTER XXXV.

Ninon at Court.—­The King behind the Glass.—­Anxietyof the Marquise on the Subject of This Interview.—­Visitto Madame de Maintenon.—­Her Reply and HerAmbiguous Promise.

Mademoiselle de l’Enclos is universally knownin the world for the agreeableness of her superiorwit and her charms of face and person. When Madamede Maintenon, after the loss of her father, arrivedfrom Martinique, she had occasion to make her acquaintance;and it seems that it was Ninon who, seeing her debatingbetween the offers of M. Scarron and the cloister,succeeded in persuading her to marry the rich poet,though he was a cripple, rather than to bury herself,so young, in a convent of Ursulines or Bernardines,even were the convent in Paris.

At the death of the poet Scarron (who when he married,and when he died, possessed only a life annuity),Mademoiselle d’Aubigne, once more in poverty,found in Mademoiselle de l’Enclos a generousand persevering friend, who at once offered her herhouse and table. Mademoiselle d’Aubignepassed eight or ten months in the intimate societyof this philosophical woman. But her conscience,or her prudery, not permitting her to tolerate longera manner of life in which she seemed to detect license,she quitted Ninon, advising her to renounce coquetry,whilst the other was advising her to abandon herselfto it.

There, where Madame Scarron found the tune of goodsociety with wit, she looked upon herself as in herproper sphere, as long as no open scandal was broughtto her notice. She consented still to remainher friend; but the fear of passing for an approveror an accomplice prevented her from remaining if therewere any publicity. It was not exactly throughher scruples, it was through her vanity. I havehad proof of this on various occasions, and I havemade no error.

The pretended amours of Mademoiselle d’Aubigneand the Marquis de Villarceaux, Ninon’s friend,are an invention of malicious envy. I justifiedMadame Scarron on the matter before the King, whenI asked her for the education of the Princes; andhaving rendered her this justice, from convictionrather than necessity, I shall certainly not chargeher with it to-day. Madame de Maintenon possessesa fund of philosophy which she does not reveal norconfess to everybody. She fears God in the mannerof Socrates and Plato; and as I have seen her morethan once make game, with infinite wit, of the AbbeGobelin, her confessor, who is a pedant and avaricious,I am persuaded that she knows much more about it thanall these proud doctors in theology, and that she wouldbe thoroughly capable of confessing her confessor.

She had remained, then, the friend of Ninon, but atheart and in recollection, without sending her newsor seeing her again. Mademoiselle de l’Enclos,rich, disinterested, and proud of her independent position,learned with pleasure the triumph of her former friend,but without writing to her or congratulating her. Ninon, by the consent of all those who have comenear her, is good-nature itself. One of her relations,or friends, was a candidate for a vacant post as farmer-general,and besought her to make some useful efforts for him.

“I have no one but Madame de Maintenon,”she replied to this relation. And the other saidto her:

“Madame de Maintenon? It is as thoughyou had the King himself!”

Mademoiselle de l’Enclos, trimming her pen withher trusty knife, wrote to the lady in waiting anagreeable and polished letter, one of those letters,careful without stiffness, that one writes, indulgingoneself a little with the intention of getting oneselfread.

The letter of solicitation seemed so pretty to thelady in waiting that she made the King peruse it.

“This is an excellent opportunity for me,”said the prince at once, “to see with my owneyes this extraordinary, person, of whom I have solong heard talk. I saw her one day at the opera,but just when she was getting into her carriage; andmy incognito did not permit me to approach her. She seemed to me small, but well made. Her carriagedrove off like a flash.”

To meet this curiosity which the King displayed, itwas agreed that Madame de Maintenon, on the pretextof having a better consultation, should summon Mademoisellede l’Enclos to Versailles, and that in one ofthe alcoves of the chapel she should be given a placewhich should put her almost in front of his Majesty.

She arrived some minutes before mass. Madamede Maintenon received her with marked attention, mingledwith reserve, promised her support with the ministerswhen the affair should be discussed, and made her promiseto pass the entire day, at Versailles, for the Kingwas obliged to visit the new gardens at Marly.

The time for mass being come, Madame de Maintenonsaid to the fair Epicurean, with a smile: “Youare one of us, are you not? The music will bedelicious in the chapel to-day; you will not have amoment of weariness.”

Ninon, meeting this slight reproach with a smile ofpropriety, replied that she adored and respected everythingwhich the monarch respected.

During the service, the King, tranquilly, secludedin his golden box, could see and examine the ladyat his leisure, without compromising himself or embarrassingher by his gaze. As for her, her decent andquite appropriate attitude merited for her the approvalof her old friend, of the King, and of the most criticaleyes.

The monarch, in effect, departed, not for the Chateauof Marly, but for Trianon; and hardly had he reachedthere before, in a little, very close carriage, hewas brought back to Versailles. He went up toMadame de Maintenon’s apartments by the littlestaircase in the Prince’s Court, and stole intothe glass closet without being observed, except bya solitary lackey.

The ladies, believing themselves to be alone and atliberty, talked without ceremony or constraint, asthough they had been but twenty years old. TheKing was very much grieved at the things which weresaid, but he heard, without losing a word, the followingdialogue or interview:

Ninon de L’ENCLOS.—­It isnot my preservation which should surprise you, sincefrom morning to night I breathe that voluptuous airof independence which refreshes the blood, and putsin play its circulation. I am morally the sameperson whom you came to see in the pretty little housein the Rue de Tournelles. My dressing-gown, asyou well know, was my preferred and chosen garb. To-day, as then, Madame la Marquise, I should chooseto place on my escutcheon the Latin device of the townsof San Marino and Lucca,—­Libertas. You have complimented me on my beauty; I congratulateyou upon yours, and I am surprised that you have sokept and preserved it in the midst of the constraintsand servitude that grandeur and greatness involve.

Madame de Maintenon.—­Atthe commencement, I argued as you argue, and believedthat I should never get to the year’s end withoutdisgust. Little by little I imposed silence uponmy emotions and my regrets. A life of great activityand occupation, by separating us, as it were, fromourselves, extinguishes those exacting niceties, bothof our proper sensibility, and of our self-conceit. I remembered my sufferings, my fears, and my privationsafter the death of that poor man;—­[It wasso that she commonly spoke of her husband, Scarron.]—­andsince labour has been the yoke imposed by God on everyhuman being, I submitted with a good grace to therespectable labour of education. Few teachersare attached to their pupils; I attached myself tomine with tenderness, with delight. It is truethat it was my privilege to find the King’s childrenamiable and pretty, as few children are.

Ninon de L’ENCLOS.—­Fromthe most handsome and amiable man in the world therecould not come mediocre offspring. M. du Maineis your idol; the King has given him his noble bearing,with his intelligence; and you have inoculated himwith your wit. Is it true that Madame de Montespanis no longer your friend? That is a rumour whichhas credit in the capital; and if the thing is trueI regret it, and am sorry for you.

Madame de Maintenon.—­Madamede Montespan, as all Paris knows, obtained my pensionfor me after the death of the Queen-mother. Thisservice, comparable with a favour, will always remainin my heart and my memory. I have thanked hera thousand times for it, and I always shall thank herfor it. At the time when the young Queen of Portugalcharged herself with my fate and fortune, the Marquise,who had known me at the Hotel d’Albret, desiredto retain me in France, where she destined for me thechildren of the King. I did what she desired;I took charge of his numerous children out of respectfor my benefactor, and attachment to herself. To-day, when their first education is completed, andhis Majesty has recompensed me with the gift of theMaintenon estate, the Marquise pretends that my roleis finished, that I was wrong to let myself be madelady in waiting, and that the recognition due to herimposes an obligation on me to obey her in everything,and withdraw from this neighbourhood.

Ninon de L’ENCLOS.—­Absolutely

Madame de Maintenon.—­Yes,really, I assure you.

Ninon de L’ENCLOS.—­A departure? An absolute retreat? Oh, it is too much! Does she wish you, then, to resign your office?

Madame de MAINTINON.—­I cannotbut think so, mademoiselle.

Ninon de L’ENCLOS.—­Speakingpersonally, and for my private satisfaction, I shouldbe enchanted to see you quit the Court and return tosociety. Society is your element. You knowit by heart; you have shone there, and there you wouldshine again. On reappearing, you would see yourselfinstantly surrounded by those delicate and (pardonthe expression) sensuous minds who applauded withsuch delight your agreeable stories, your brilliantand solid conversation. Those pleasant, idlehours were lost to us when you left us, and I shallalways remember them. At the Court, where etiquetteselects our words, as it rules our attitudes, youcannot be yourself; I must confess that frankly. You do not paint your lovely face, and I am obligedto you for that, madame; but it is impossible foryou to refrain from somewhat colouring your discourse,not with the King, perhaps, whose always calm gazetransparently reveals the man of honour, but withthose eminences, those grandeurs, those royal andserene highnesses, whose artificial and factitiousperfumes already filled your chapel before the incenseof the sacrifice had wreathed its clouds round thehigh altar.

The King, suddenly showing himself, somewhat to thesurprise of the ladies, said: “I have longwished, mademoiselle, this unique and agreeable opportunityfor which I am indebted to Madame de Maintenon.Be seated, I pray you, and permit ‘my Highness’,slightly perfumed though I be, to enjoy for a momentyour witty conversation and society. What!The atmosphere does not meet with your approval, and,in order to have madame’s society, you desireto disgust her with it herself, and deprive us ofher?”

“Sire,” answered Ninon, “I havenot enough power or authority to render my intentionsformidable, and my long regrets will be excused, Ihope, since, if madame left Versailles, she wouldcause the same grief there that she has caused us.”

“One has one’s detractors in every conceivablelocality. If Madame de Maintenon has met withone at Versailles she would not be exempt from themanywhere else. At Paris, you would be withoutrampart or armour, I like to believe; but deign togrant me this preference,—­I can very wellprotect my friends. I think the town is ill-informed,and that Madame de Montespan has no interest in separatingmadame from her children, who are also mine.

“You will greatly oblige me, mademoiselle, ifyou will adopt this opinion and publish it in yoursociety, which is always select, though it is so numerous.”

Then the King, passing to other subjects, broughtup, of his own accord, the place of farmer-general,which happened to be vacant; and he said to Mademoisellede l’Enclos: “I promise you this favourwith pleasure, the first which you have ever solicitedof me, and I must beg you to address yourself to Madamede Maintenon on every occasion when your relationsor yourself have something to ask from me. Youmust see clearly, mademoiselle, that it is well toleave madame in this place, as an agent with me foryou, and your particular ambassadress.”

I learnt all these curious details five or six dayslater from a young colonel, related to me, to whomMademoiselle de l’Enclos narrated her admissionand interview at Versailles. In reproducing thewhole of this scene, I have not altered the senseof a word; I have only sought to make up for the charmwhich every conversation loses that is reported bya third party who was not actually an eyewitness.

This confidence informed me that prejudices were springingup against me in the mind of the favourite. I went to see her, as though my visit were an ordinaryone, and asked her what one was to think of Ninon’sinterview with the King.

“Yes,” she said, “his Majesty hasfor a long time past had a great desire to see her,as a person of much wit, and of whom he has heard peoplespeak since his youth. He imagined her to havelarger eyes, and something a little more virile inher physiognomy. He was greatly, and, I mustsay, agreeably surprised, to find that he had beendeceived. ’One can see eyes of far greatersize,’ his Majesty told me, ’but not morebrilliant, more animated or amiable. Her mouth,admirably moulded, is almost as small as Madame deMontespan’s. Her pretty, almost round facehas something Georgian about it, unless I am mistaken. She says, and lets you understand, everything shelikes; she awaits your replies without interruption;her contradictions preserve urbanity; she is respectfulwithout servility; her pleasant voice, although notof silver, is none the less the voice of a nymph. In conclusion, I am charmed with her.’”

“Does she believe me hostile to your prosperity,my dear Marquise?” I said at once to Madamede Maintenon, who seemed slightly confused, and answered:“Mademoiselle de l’Enclos is not personallyof that opinion; she had heard certain remarks tothat effect in the salons of the town; and I havegiven her my most explicit assurance that, if you shouldever cease to care for me, my inclination and my gratitudewould be none the less yours, madame, so long as Ishould live.”

“You owe me those sentiments,” I resumed,with a trifle too much fire; “I have a rightto count on them. But it is most painful to me,I confess, after having given all my youth to theKing, to see him now cool down, even in his courtesy. The hours which he used to pass with me he givesto you, and it is impossible that this innovation shouldnot seem startling here, since all Paris is informedof it, and Mademoiselle de l’Enclos has discussedit with you.”

“I owe everything that I am to the goodnessof the King,” she answered me. “Wouldyou have me, when he comes to me, bid him go elsewhere,to you or somebody else, it matters not?”

“No, but I should be glad if your countenancedid not, at such a moment, expand like a sunflower;I should like you, at the risk of somewhat belyingyourself, to have the strength to moderate and restrainthat vein of talk and conversation of which you havegiven yourself the supremacy and monopoly; I wishyou had the generosity to show, now and again, lesswit. This sort of regime and abstinence wouldnot destroy you off-hand, and the worst that couldresult to you from it would be to pass in his eyesfor a woman of a variable and intermittent wit; whata great calamity!”

“Ah, madame, what is it you suggest!”the lady in waiting replied to me, almost taking offence. “I have never been eccentric or singular withany one in the world, and you want me to begin withmy King! It cannot be, I assure you! Suggestto me reasonable and possible things, and I will enterinto all your views with all my heart and without hesitation.”

This reply shocked me to the point of irritation.

“I believed you long to be a simple and disinterestedsoul,” I said to her, “and it was in thisbelief that I gave you my cordial affection. NowI read your heart, and all your projects are revealedto me. You are not only greedy of respect andconsideration, you are ambitious to the point of madness. The King’s widowhood has awakened all your wilddreams; you confided to me fifteen years ago thatthe soothsayer of the Marechale d’Albret hadpredicted for you a sceptre and a crown.”

At these words, the governess made me a sign to lowermy voice, and said to me, with an accent of candourand good faith, which it is impossible for me to forget:“I confided to you at the time that puerilityof society, just as the Marechale and the Marshal(without believing it) related it to all France. But this prognostication need not alarm you, madame,”she added; “a King like ours is incapable ofsuch an extravagance, and if he were to determineon it, it would not have my countenance nor approval.

“I do not think that thus far I have passeddue limits; the granddaughter of a great noble, ofa first gentleman of the chamber, I have been ableto become a lady in waiting without offending the eyes;but the lady in waiting will never be Queen, and Igive you my permission to insult me publicly whenI am.”

Such was this conversation, to which I have not addeda word. We shall see soon how Madame de Maintenonkept her word to me, and if I am not right in owingher a grudge for this promise with a double meaning,with which it was her caprice to decoy me by her shuffling.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Birth of the Duc d’Anjou.—­The Presentto the Mother.—­The Casket of Patience.—­Departureof the King for the Army.—­The King Turnsa Deaf Ear.—­How That Concerns Madame deMaintenon.—­The Prisoner of the Bastille.—­TheDanger of Caricatures.—­The AdministrativeThermometer.—­Actors Who Can neither Be Applaudednor Hissed.—­Relapse of the Prisoner.—­Scarron’sWill.—­A Fine Subject for Engraving.—­Madamede Maintenon’s Opinion upon the Jesuits.—­TheAudience of the Green Salon.—­Portions fromthe Refectory.—­Madame de Maintenon’sPresence of Mind.—­I Will Make You Schoolmaster.

Madame la Dauphine, greatly pleased with her new position,in that she represented the person of the Queen, hadalready given birth to M. le Duc de Bourgogne; shenow brought into the world a second son, who was atonce entitled Duc d’Anjou. The King, tothank her for this gift, made her a present of anoriental casket, which could only be opened by a secretspring, and that not before one had essayed it forhalf an hour. Madame la Dauphine found in ita superb set of pearls and four thousand new louisd’or. As she had no generosity in her heart,she bestowed no bounties on her entourage. TheKing this year made an expedition to Flanders. Before getting into his carriage he came and passedhalf an hour or forty minutes with me, and asked meif I should not go and pass the time of his absenceat the Petit-Bourg.

“At Petit-Bourg and at Bourbon,” I answered,“unless you allow me to accompany you.” He feigned not to have heard me, and said: “Lauzun,who, eleven or twelve years ago, refused the batonof a marshal of France, asks to accompany me intoFlanders as aide-de-camp. Purge his mind ofsuch ideas, and give him to understand that his partis played out with me.”

“What business is it of mine,” I askedwith vivacity, “to teach M. de Lauzun how tobehave? Let Madame de Maintenon charge herselfwith these homilies; she is in office, and I am thereno longer.”

These words troubled the King; he said to me:

“You will do well to go to Bourbon until myreturn from Flanders.”

He left on the following day, and the same day I tookmy departure. I went to spend a week at my littleconvent of Saint Joseph, where the ladies, who thoughtI was still in favour, received me with marks of attentionand their accustomed respect. On the third day,the prioress, announcing herself by my second waiting-woman,came to present me with a kind of petition or prayer,which, I confess, surprised me greatly, as I had nevercommissioned any one to practise severity in my name.

A man, detained at the Bastille for the last twelveyears, implored me in this document to have compassionon his sufferings, and to give orders which wouldstrike off his chains and irons.

“My intention,” he said, “was not,madame, to offend or harm you. Artists are somewhatfeather-headed, and I was then only twenty.” This petition was signed “Hathelin, prisonerof State.” I had my horses put in my carriageat once, and betook myself to the chateau of the Bastille,the Governor of which I knew.

When I set foot in this formidable fortress, in spiteof myself I experienced a thrill of terror.

The attentions of public men are a thermometer, which,instead of our own notions, is very capable of lettingus know the just degree of our favour. The Governorof the Bastille, some months before, would have salutedme with his artillery; perhaps he still received mewith a certain ceremony, but without putting any ardourinto his politeness, or drawing too much upon himself. In such circ*mstances one must see without regardingthese insults of meanness, and, by a contrivance ofdistraction, escape from vile affronts. The objectof my expedition being explained, the Governor foundon his register that poor Hathelin, aged thirty-twoto thirty-four years, was an engraver by profession.The lieutenant-general of police had arrested himlong ago for a comic or satirical engraving on thesubject of M. le Marquis de Montespan and the King.

I desired to see Hathelin, quite determined to askhis pardon for all his sufferings, with which I wasgoing to occupy myself exclusively until I was successful. The Governor, a man all formality and pride, toldme that he had not the necessary authority for thiscommunication; I was obliged to return to my carriagewithout having tranquillised my poor captive.

The same evening I called upon the lieutenant-generalof police, and, after having eloquently pleaded thecause of this forgotten young man, I discovered thatthere was no ‘lettre de cachet’ to hisprejudice, and procured his liberation.

He came to pay his respects and thanks to me, in myparlour at Saint Joseph, on the very day of his liberation. He seemed to me much younger than his age, whichastonished me greatly after his misfortunes. I gave him six thousand francs, in order to indemnifyhim slightly for that horrible Bastille. Atfirst he hesitated to take them.

“Let your captivity be a lesson to you,”I said to him; “the affairs of kings do notconcern us. When such actors occupy the scene,it is permissible neither to applaud nor to hiss.”

Hathelin promised me to be good, and for the futureto concern himself only with his graver and his privatebusiness. He wished me a thousand good wishes,with an expansion of heart which caused his tears andmine to flow. But artists are not made likeother men; he, for all his good heart, was giftedwith one of those ardent imaginations which make themselvescritics and judges of notable personages, and, aboveall, of favourites of fortune. Barely five orsix months had elapsed when Hathelin published a newsatirical plate, in which Madame de Maintenon wasrepresented as weeping, or pretending to weep, overthe sick-bed of M. Scarron. The dying man washolding an open will in his hand, in which one couldread these words: “I leave you my permissionto marry again—­a rich and serious man—­moreso than I am.”

The print had already been widely distributed whenthe engraver and his plate were seized. Thistime Hathelin had not the honour of the Bastille;he was sent to some depot. And although his actionwas absolutely fresh and unknown to me, all Pariswas convinced that I had inspired his unfortunatetalent. Madame de Maintenon was convinced ofit, and believes it still. The King has doneme the honour to assure me lately that he had banishedthe idea from his mind; but he was so persuaded ofit at first that he could not pardon me for so blackan intrigue, and, but for the fear of scandal, wouldhave hanged the engraver, Hathelin, in order to providemy gentlemen, the engravers, with a subject for afine plate.

About the same time, the Jesuits caused Madame deMaintenon a much more acute pain than that of theridiculous print. She endured this blow withher accustomed courage; nevertheless, she conceivedsuch a profound aversion to the leaders of this ever-restlesscompany, that she has never been seen in their churches,and was at the greatest pains to rob them of the interiorof Saint Cyr. “They are men of intrigue,”she said to Madame de Montchevreuil, her friend andconfidante. “The name of Jesus is alwaysin their mouths, he is in their solemn device, theyhave taken him for their banner and namesake; buthis candour, his humility are unknown to them. They would like to order everything that exists, andrule even in the palaces of kings. Since theyhave the privilege and honour of confessing our monarch,they wish to impose the same bondage upon me. Heaven preserve me from it! I do not want rectorsof colleges and professors to direct my unimportantconscience. I like a confessor who lets youspeak, and not those who put words into your mouth.”

With the intention of mortifying her and then of beingable to publish the adventure, they charged one oftheir instruments to seek her out at Versailles inorder to ask an audience of her, not as a Jesuit, butas a plain churchman fallen upon adversity.

The petition of this man having been admitted, hereceived a printed form which authorised him to appearbefore madame at her time of good works, for she hadher regular hours for everything. He was introducedinto the great green salon, which was destined, asone knows, for this kind of audience. Therewere many people present, and before all this companythis old fox thus unfolded himself:

“Madame, I bless the Sovereign Dispenser ofall things for what he has done for you; you havemerited his protection from your tenderest youth.When, after your return from Martinique, you came todwell in the little town of Niort, with your ladymother, I saw you often in our Jesuit church, whichwas at two paces from your house. Your modesty,your youth, your respectful tenderness towards Madamela Baronne d’Aubigne, your excellent mother,attracted the attention of our community, who saw

you every day in the temple with a fresh pleasure,as you can well imagine. Madame la Baronne died;and we learnt that those tremendous lawsuits withthe family not having been completed before her death,she left you, and M. Charles, your brother, in themost frightful poverty. At that news, our Fathers(who are so charitable, so compassionate) orderedme to reserve every day, for the two young orphans,two large portions from the refectory, and to bringthem to you myself in your little lodging.

“To-day, being no longer, owing to my health,in the congregation of the Jesuit Fathers, I shouldbe glad to obtain a place conformable with my ancientoccupations. My good angel has inspired me withthe thought, madame, to come and solicit your powerfulprotection and your good graces.”

Madame de Maintenon, having sustained this attackwith fortitude, and it was not without vigour, repliedto the petitioner: “I have had the honourof relating to his Majesty, not so very long ago, thepainful and afflicting circ*mstance which you havejust recalled to me. Your companions, for onefortnight, were at the pains to send to my littlebrother and to me a portion of their food. Ourrelations; who enjoyed all our property, had reducedus to indigence. But, as soon as my positionwas ameliorated, I sent fifteen hundred francs to theReverend Father Superior of the Jesuits for his charities. That manner of reimbursem*nt has not acquitted me,and I could not see an unfortunate man begging mefor assistance without remembering what your houseonce did for me. I do not remember your face,monsieur, but I believe your simple assertion. If you are in holy orders I will recommend you tothe Archbishop of Rouen, who will find you a placesuitable for you. Are you in holy orders?”

“No, madame,” replied the ex-Jesuit; Iwas merely a lay brother.”

“In that case,” replied the Marquise,“we can offer you a position as schoolmaster;and the Jesuit Fathers, if they have any esteem foryou, should have rendered you this service, for theyhave the power to do that, and more.”

BOOK 7.

CHAPTER XXXVII

The King Takes Luxembourg Because It Is His Will.—­Devastationof the
Electorate of Treves.—­The Marquis de Louvois.—­HisPortrait.—­The
Marvels Which He Worked.—­The Le Tellierand the Mortemart.—­The King
Destines De Mortemart to a Colbert.—­HowOne Manages Not to Bow.—­The
Dragonades.—­A Necessary Man.—­MoneyMakes Fat.—­Meudon.—­The Horoscope.

This journey to Flanders did not keep the King longaway from his capital. And, withal, he madetwo fine and rich conquests, short as the space oftime was. The important town of Luxembourg wasnecessary to him. He wanted it. The Marechalde Crequi invested this place with an army of thirtythousand men, and made himself master of it at theend of a week.

Immediately after the King marched to the Electorateof Treves, which had belonged, he said, to the formerkingdom of Austrasia. He had no trouble in masteringit, almost all the imperial forces being in Hungary,Austria, and in those cantons where the Ottomans hadcalled for them. The town of Treves humbly recognisedthe King of France as its lord and suzerain. Its fine fortifications were levelled at once, andour victories were, unhappily, responsible for thefiring, pillage, and devastation of almost the wholeElectorate. For the Duke of Crequi, faithfulexecutor of the orders of Louvois, imagined that asovereign is only obeyed when he proves himself sternand inflexible.

In the first years of my favour, the Marquis de Louvoisenjoyed my entire confidence, and, I must admit, myhighest esteem. Independently of his manners,which are, when he wishes, those of the utmost amiability,I remarked in him an industrious and indefatigableminister, an intelligent man, as well instructed inthe mass as in details; a mind fertile in resources,means, and expedients; an administrator, a jurist,a theologian, a man of letters and of affairs, anartist, an agriculturist, a soldier.

Loving pleasure, yet knowing how to despise it infavour of the needs of the State and the care of affairs,this minister concentrated in his own person all theother ministries, which moved only by his impulse andguiding hand.

Did the King, followed by his whole Court, arrivein fearful weather by the side of some vast and swollenriver, M. de Louvois, alighting from his carriage,would sweep the horizon with a single glance. He would designate on the spot the farms, granaries,mills, and chateaux necessary to the passage of afastidious king on his travels. A general repast,appropriate and sufficient, issued at his voice asit had been from the bowels of the earth. Anabundance of mattresses received provisionally themore or less delicate forms, stretched out in slumberor fatigue. And in the depth of the night, bythe light of a thousand flaring torches, a vast bridge,constructed hastily, in spite of wind and rain, permittedthe royal carriage and the host of other vehicles tocross the stream, and find on the further bank succulentdishes and voluptuous apartments.

This prodigious energy, which created results by pulverisingobstacles, had rendered the minister not only agreeablebut precious to a young sovereign, who, unable totolerate delays and resistance, desired in all thingsto attain and succeed. The King, without lookingtoo closely at the means, loved the results whichwere the consequences of such a genius, and he rewardedwith a limitless confidence the intrepid and oftenculpable zeal of a minister who procured him hatred.

When the passions of the conqueror, owing to success,grew calm, he studied more tranquilly both his owndesires and his coadjutor’s. The King bynature is neither inhuman nor savage, and he knew thatLouvois was like Phalaris in these points. Thenhe was at as much pains to repress this unpopularhumour as he had shown indifference before in allowingit to act.

The Marquis de Louvois (who did not like me) had lavishedhis incense upon me, in order that some fumes of itmight float up to the prince. He saw me belovedand, as it were, almost omnipotent; he sought my alliancewith ardour. The family of Le Tellier is goodenough for a judicial and legal family; but what bondsare there between the Louvois and the Mortemart? No matter: ambition puts a thick bandage overthe eyes of those whom it inspires; the Marquis wishedto marry his daughter to my nephew, De Mortemart!!!

I communicated this proposition to the King. His Majesty said to me: “I am delightedthat he has committed the grave fault of approachingany one else than me about this marriage. Answerhim, if you please, that it is my province alone tomarry the daughters, and even the sons of my ministers. Louvois has thus far helped me to spend enormous sums.M. Colbert has assisted me to heap up treasure. It is for one of the Colberts that I destine yournephew; for I have made up my mind that the threesisters shall be duch*esses.”

In effect, his Majesty caused this marriage; and theMarquis de Louvois had the jaundice over it for morethan a fortnight.

Since that time his assiduities have been enlightened. He puts respect into his reverences; and when ourtwo coachmen carried our equipages past each otheron the same, road, he read some documents in orderto avoid saluting me.

In the affair of the Protestants, he caused what wasat first only anxiety, religious zeal, and distrustto turn into rebellion. In order to make himselfnecessary, he proposed his universal and permanentpatrols and dragoons. He caused certain excessesto be committed in order to raise a cry of disorder;and a measure which could have been effective withoutceasing to be paternal became, in his hands, an instrumentof dire persecution.

Madame de Maintenon, having learnt that Louvois, toexonerate himself, was secretly designating her asthe real author of these rigorous and lamentable counsels,made complaint of it to the King, and publicly censuredhis own brother, who, in order to make himself agreeableto the Jesuits, to Bossuet, and to Louvois, had madehimself a little hero in his provincial government.

The great talents of M. de Louvois, and the difficultyof replacing him, became his refuge and safeguard. But, from the moment that he no longer received theintimate confidence of the King, and the esteem ofthe lady in waiting who sits upon the steps of thethrone, he can only look upon himself at Versaillesas a traveller with board and lodging.

His revenues are incalculable. The people, seeinghis enormous corpulence, maintain, or pretend, thathe is stuffed with gold. His general administrationof posts alone is worth a million. His otheroffices are in proportion.

His chateau of Meudon-Fleury, a magical and quiteideal site, is the finest pleasure-house that everyet the sun shone on. The park and the gardensare in the form of an amphitheatre, and are, in myopinion, sublime, in a far different way from thoseof Vaux. M. Fouquet, condemned to death, inpunishment for his superb chateau, died slowly inprison; the Marquis de Louvois will not, perhaps, diein a stronghold; but his horoscope has already warnedthat minister to be prepared for some great adversity. He knows it; sometimes he is concerned about it;and everything leads one to believe that he will cometo a bad end. He has done more harm than peoplebelieve.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

The Reformed Religion and Painting on Enamel—­Petitotand Heliogabalus.—­Theological Discussionwith the Marquise.—­The King’s Intervention.—­LouisXIV. Renders His Account to the Christian andMost Christian Painter.—­The King’sWord Is Not to Be Resisted.—­Revocation ofthe Edict of Nantes.

At the moment when the first edicts, were issued againstthe public exercise of the Reformed Religion, thefamous and incomparable Petitot, refusing all thesupplications of France and of Europe, executed forme, in my chateau of Clagny, five infinitely preciousportraits, upon which it was his caprice only to workalternately, and which still demanded from him a verygreat number of sittings. One of these five portraitswas that of the King, copied from that great and magnificentpicture of Mignard, where he was represented at theage of twenty, in the costume of a Greek hero, inall the lustre of his youth. His Majesty hadgiven me this little commission for more than a year,and I desired, with all my heart, to be able soonto fulfil his expectation. He destined thisminiature for the Emperor of China or the Sultan.

I went to see M. Petitot at Clagny. When hesaw me he came to me with a wrathful air, and, presentingme his unfinished enamel, he said to me: “Here,madame, is your Greek hero; his new edicts finish us,but, as for me, I shall not finish him. Withthe best intentions in the world, and all the respectthat is due to him, my just resentment would pass intomy brush; I should give him the traits of Heliogabalus,which would probably not delight him.”

“Do you think so, monsieur?” said I tomy artist. “Is it thus you speak of theKing, our master,—­of a King who has affectionfor you, and has proved it to: you so many times?”

“My memory, recalls to me all that his munificence:has done for my talent in a thousand instances,”went on the painter; “but his edicts, his crueldecrees, have upset my heart, and the persecutor ofthe true Christians no longer merits my considerationor good-will.”

I had been ignorant hitherto of the faith which thisable man professed; he informed me that he worshippedGod in another fashion than ours, and made commoncause with the Protestants.

“Well,” said I to him then, “whathave you to complain of in the new edicts and decrees? They only concern, so far, your ministers,—­Ishould say, your priests; you are not one, and arenever likely to be; what do these new orders of theCouncil matter to you?”

“Madame,” resumed Petitot, “ourministers, by preaching the holy gospel, fulfil thefirst of their duties. The King forbids themto preach; then, he persecutes them and us. In the thousand and one religions which exist, thecause of the priests and the sanctuary becomes thecause of the faithful. Our priests are not imbecileTrappists and Carthusians, to be reduced to inactionand silence. Since their tongues are tied, theyare resolved to depart; and their departure becomesan exile which it is our duty to share. If youwill entrust me with your portraits which have beencommenced, with the exception of that of Heliogabalus,I will finish them in a hospitable land, and shallhave the honour of sending them to you, already firedand in all their perfection.”

Petitot, until this political crisis, had only exhibitedhimself to me beneath an appearance of simplicityand good-nature. Now his whole face was convulsedand almost threatening; when I looked at him he mademe afraid. I did not amuse myself by discussingwith him matters upon which we were, both of us, moreor less ignorant. I did all that could be doneto introduce a little calm into his superstitious head,and to gain the necessary time for the completionof my five portraits. I was careful not to confideto the King this qualification of Heliogabalus; butas his intervention was absolutely necessary to me,I persuaded him to come and spend half an hour atthis chateau of Clagny, which he had deserted for along time past.

“Your presence,” I said to him, “willperhaps take the edge off the theological irritationof your fanatical painter. A little royal amenity,a little conversation and blandishment, a la LouisXIV., will seduce his artistic vanity. At thecost of that, your portrait, Sire, will be terminated. It would not be without.”

The surprise of his Majesty was extreme when he hadto learn and comprehend that the prodigious talentof Petitot was joined to a Huguenot conscience, andthis talent spoke of expatriating itself. “Iwill go to Clagny to-morrow,” replied the princeto me; and he went there, in fact, accompanied bythe Marquise de Montchevreuil and Madame la Dauphine,in an elaborate neglige.

“Good-day, Monsieur Petitot,” said themonarch to our artist, who rose on seeing him enter. “I come to contemplate your new masterpieces. Is my little miniature near completion?”

“Sire,” replied Petitot, “it willnot be for another six weeks. All these affairsand decrees have deprived me of many hours; my heartis heavy over it!”

“And why do you busy yourself with these discussions,with which your great talent has no concern?” said the King to him, gently.

“Sire, it is my religion that is more concernedthan ever. I am a Christian, and my law is dearto me.”

“And I am Most Christian,” answered hisMajesty, smiling. “I profess the religion,I keep the law that your ancestors and mine kept beforethe Reformation.”

“Sire, this reform has been adopted by a greatnumber of monarchs,—­a proof that the Reformationis not the enemy of kings, as is said.”

“Yes, in the case of wise and honest men likeyourself, my good friend Petitot; but just as allyour brothers have not your talents, so they havenot your rectitude and loyalty, which are known tome.”

“Sire, your Majesty overwhelms me; but I begyou to be persuaded that my brothers have been calumniated.”

“Yes, if one is to accuse them in the mass,my dear Petitot; but there are spoil-alls amongstyour theologians; intercepted correspondences deposeto it. The allied princes, having been unableto crush me by their invasions and artillery, haverecourse to internal and clandestine manoeuvres. Having failed to corrupt my soldiers, they have essayedto corrupt my clergy, as they did at Montauban andLa Rochelle, in the days of Cardinal Richelieu.”

“Sire, do not believe in any such manoeuvres;all your subjects love and admire you, whatever betheir faith and communion.”

“Petitot, you are an admirable painter and amost worthy man. Do not answer me, I beg you. If I believed you had as much genius and aptitudefor great affairs as for the wonders of the brush,I would make you a Counsellor of State on the instant,and a half-hour spent with me and my documents andpapers of importance would be sufficient to make youbelieve and think as I do touching what has been discussedbetween us. Madame de Montespan, in great alarm,has told me that you wished to leave me. Youleave me, my good friend! Where will you finda sky so pure and soft as the sky of France? Where will you find a King more tenderly attachedto men of merit, more particularly, to my dear andillustrious Petitot?”

At these words, pronounced with emotion, the artistfelt the tears come into his eyes. He bent oneknee to the ground, respectfully kissed the hand ofthe monarch, and promised to complete his portraitimmediately.

He kept his word to us. The King’s miniatureand my four portraits were finished without hesitationor postponement; and Petitot also consented to copy,for his Majesty, a superb Christine of Sweden, a full-lengthpicture, painted by Le Bourdon. But at the finalrevocation of the Edict of Nantes, he thought hisconscience, or rather his vanity, compromised, andquitted France, although the King offered to allowhim a chaplain of his communion, and a dispensationfrom all the oaths, to Petitot himself, to Boyer,his brother-in-law, and the chaplain whom they hadretained with them.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Lovers’ Vows.—­The Body-guards.—­Racine’sPhedre.—­The Pit.—­Allusions.—­TheDuel.—­M. de Monclar.—­The CowledSpy.—­He Escapes with a Fright.—­M.de Monclar in Jersey.—­Gratitude of theMarquise.—­Happy Memory.

Lovers, in the effervescence of their passion, exaggerateto themselves the strength and intensity of theirsentiments. The momentary, pleasure that thisagreeable weakness causes them to feel, brings them,in spite of themselves, to promise a long durationof it, so that they swear eternal fidelity, a constancy,proof against all, two days after that one which shoneon their most recent infidelity. I had seen theKing neglect and abandon the amiable La Valliere,and I listened to him none the less credulously andconfidently when he said to me: “Athenais,we have been created for each other: if Heavenwere suddenly to deprive me of the Queen, I wouldhave your marriage dissolved, and, before the altarand the world, join your destiny, to mine.”

Full of these fantastic ideas, in which my, hope anddesire and credulity were centred, I had acceptedthose body-guards of state who never left my carriage. The poor Queen had murmured: I had disdainedher murmurs. The public had manifested its disapproval:I had hardened myself and fought against the insolentopinion of that public. I could not renouncemy chimera of royalty, based on innumerable probabilities,and I used my guards in anticipation, and as a preliminary.

One of them, one day, almost lost his life in followingmy carriage, which went along like a whirlwind. His horse fell on the high road to Versailles; histhigh was broken, and his body horribly bruised.I descended from my carriage to see after him. I confided him, with the most impressive recommendations,to the physician or surgeon of Viroflai, who lavishedon him his attentions, his skill and zeal, and whosent him back quite sound after a whole month of affectionatecare.

The young Baron de Monclar (such was the name of thisguard) thought himself happy in having merited myfavour by this accident, and he remained sincerelyand finally attached to me.

At the time of the temporary triumph of Mademoisellede Fontanges, the spell which was over my eyes wasdissipated. The illusions of my youth were lost,and I saw, at last, the real distance which dividedme from the steps of the throne. The healthof a still youthful Queen seemed to me as firm andunalterable then as it appeared to me weak and uncertainbefore. The inconstancy of the monarch warnedme of what might be still in store for me, and I resolvedto withdraw myself, voluntarily and with prudence,within the just limits of my power.

M. le Prince de Luxembourg was one of my friends,and in command; I begged him to send me his guardsno longer, but to reserve them for the reigning divinity,who had already more than once obtained them.

In these latter days, that is to say, since the eminentfavour of the lady in waiting, having become the friend,and no longer the spouse of the prince, I frequentlyretired from this sight, so repugnant to me, and wentand passed entire weeks at Paris, where the works onmy large hotel, that had been suspended for diversreasons, were being resumed.

A debutante, as beautiful as she was clever, was drawingthe entire capital to the Comedie Francaise. She obtained especial applause in the difficult partof Phedre. My friends spoke marvels of it, andwished to take me there with them. Their boxwas engaged. We arrived as the curtain was goingup. As I took my seat I noticed a certain stirin the orchestra and pit. The majority of glanceswere directed at my box, in which my apparition hadattracted curiosity. I carried my fan to myface, under the pretext of the excessive glow of thelights. Immediately several voices were to beheard: “Take away the fan, if you please.”The young and foolish applauded this audacity; butall the better part disapproved.

The actress mentioned came on the scene and broughtthe incident to an end. Although deeply movedby what had occurred, I paid great attention to themagnificent part of Phedre, which often excited myadmiration and profound pity. At some passages,which every one knows by heart, two or three insolentpersons abandoned themselves to a petty war of allusions,and accenting these aggressive phrases with their applause,succeeded in directing general attention to me. Officers of the service noticed this beginning ofdisorder, and probably were concerned at my embarrassment.Some Gardes Francais were called within the barrierof the parterre in order to restrain the disturbers. Suddenly a very lively quarrel broke out in the centre. Two young men with great excitement had come to blows,and soon we saw them sally forth with the openly expressedintention of settling their quarrel on the field.

Was it my name, or a contest as to the talent of theactress, which caused this commotion? My nephew,De Mortemart, was concerned for me, and the Comtede Marcilly assured us that all these wrangles weresolely with regard to the wife of Theseus.

Between the two pieces our company learnt that a gentlemanfrom the provinces had insulted my name, and a body-guard,out of uniform, had taken this insult for himself;they had gone out to have an explanation.

The following day a religious minim of the House ofChaillot came to inform me of the state of affairs. The Baron de Monclar, of the body-guards of the King,had taken sanctuary in their monastery, after havingkilled, in lawful duel, beneath the outer walls ofthe Bois du Boulogne, the imprudent young man who,the night before, at the play, had exposed me to thecensure of the public. M. de Monclar was quiteprepared for the inflexible severity of the King, aswell as for the uselessness of my efforts. Heonly begged me to procure him a disguise of a commonsort, so that he might immediately embark from theneighbourhood of Gainville or Bordeaux, and make forEngland or Spain; every moment was precious.

The sad position in which M. de Monclar had put himselfin my behalf filled me with sorrow. I gave along sigh, and dried my first tears. I rackedmy sick and agitated head for the reply I ought tomake to the good monk, and, to my great astonishment,my mind, ordinarily so prompt and active, suggestedand offered me no suitable plan. This indecision,perhaps, rendered the worthy ambassador impatient andhumiliated me; when, to end it, I made up my mindto request that M. de Monclar be secretly transferredfrom the House of Chaillot to my dwelling, where Ishould have time and all possible facilities to takeconcert with him as to the best means of action.

Suddenly raising my eyes to the monk of Chaillot,I surprised in his a ferocious look of expectation. This horrible discovery unnerved me,—­Igave a cry of terror; all my lackeys rushed in. I ordered the traitor to be seized and precipitatedfrom the height of my balcony into the gardens. His arms were already bound ruthlessly, and my peoplewere lifting him to throw him down, when he eludedtheir grasp, threw himself at my feet, and confessedthat his disguise was assumed with the intent to discoverthe sanctuary of the Baron de Monclar, the assassinof his beloved brother. “It is asserted,madame,” added this man, rising, “thatthe Baron is confided to the Minim Fathers of Chaillot. I imagined that you were informed of it, and thatby this means my family would succeed in reachinghim.”

“If he has killed the nobody who yesterday insultedme so unjustly,” I said then to this villainwho was ready for death, “he has done a virtuousact, but one which I condemn. I condemn it becauseof the law of the Prince, which is formal, and becauseof the dire peril into which he has run; for thatmy heart could almost praise and thank him. Iwas ignorant of his offence; I am ignorant of hisplace of refuge. Whoever you may be,—­theagent of a family in mourning, or of a magistrate whoforgets what is due to me,—­leave my housebefore my wrath is rekindled. Depart, and neverforget what one gains by putting on the livery ofdeceit in order to surprise and betray innocence.”

My people conducted this unworthy man to the outergate, and refused to satisfy some prayers which headdressed to them to be released from his disagreeablebonds. The public, with its usual inconsequence,followed the monk with hooting, without troublingas to whether it were abusing a vile spy or a manof worth.

We waited for a whole month without receiving anynews of our guard. At last he wrote to me fromthe island of Jersey, where he had been cast by astorm. I despatched the son of my intendant,who knew him perfectly; I sent him a letter of recommendationto his Majesty the King of England, who had preservedme in his affections, and to those matters of pureobligation, which I could not refrain from withoutcruelty, I added a present of a hundred thousand livres,which was enough to furnish an honourable conditionfor my noble and generous cavalier in the land ofexile.

The humour of my heart is of the kind which finishesby forgetting an injury and almost an outrage; buta service loyally rendered is graven upon it in uneffaceablecharacters, and when (at the solicitation of the Kingof England) our monarch shall have pardoned M. de Monclar,I will search all through Paris to find him a richand lovely heiress, and will dower him myself, ashis noble conduct and my heart demand.

I admire great souls as much as I loathe ingratitudeand villainy.

CHAPTER XL.

Parallel between the Diamond and the Sun.—­Tasteof the Marquise for
Precious Stones.—­The King’s Collectionof Medals.—­The Crown of
Agrippina.—­The duch*ess of York.—­Disappointmentof the Marquise.—­To
Lend Is Not to Give.—­The Crown Well Guarded.—­Frightof the
Marquise.—­The Thief Recognised.—­TheMarquise Lets Him Hang.—­The
Difference between Cromwell and a Trunkmaker.—­Delicate
Restitutions.—­The Bourbons of Madame deMontespan.

The diamond is, beyond contradiction, the most beautifulcreation of the hands of God, in the order of inanimateobjects. This precious stone, as durable asthe sun, and far more accessible than that, shineswith the same fire, unites all its rays and coloursin a single facet, and lavishes its charms, by nightand day, in every clime, at all seasons; whilst thesun appears only when it so pleases; sometimes shining,sometimes misty, and shows itself off with innumerablepretensions.

From my tenderest childhood, I was notable amongstall my brothers and sisters for my distinct fondnessfor precious stones and diamonds. I have madea collection of them worthy of the Princes of Asia;and if my whole fortune were to fail me to-day, mypearls and diamonds, being left to me, would stillgive me opulence. The King, by a strange accident,shares this taste with me. He has in his thirdcloset two huge pedestals, veneered in rosewood, anddivided within, like cabinets of coins, into severallayers. It is there that he has conveyed, oneby one, all the finest diamonds of the Crown. He consecrates to their examination, their study,and their homage, the brief moments that his affairsleave him. And when, by his ambassadors, he comesto discover some new apparition of this kind in Asiaor Europe, he does all that is possible to distancehis competitors.

When he loved me with a tender love, I had only towish and I obtained instantly all that could pleaseme, in rare pearls, in superfine brilliants, sapphires,emeralds, and rubies. One day, his Majesty allowedme to carry home the famous crown of Agrippina, executedwith admirable art, and formed of eight sprays oflarge brilliants handsomely mounted. This preciousobject occupied me for several days in succession,and the more I examined the workmanship, the more Imarvelled at its lightness and excellence, which wasso great that our jewellers, compared with those ofNero and Agrippina, were as artisans and workmen.

The King, having never spoken to me again of thisornament, I persuaded myself that he had made me apresent of it,—­a circ*mstance which confirmedme in the delusions of my hope. I thought thenthat I ought not to leave in its light case an articleof such immense value, and ordered a strong and solidcasket in which to enshrine my treasure.

The imperial crown having been encased and its claspswell adjusted by as many little locks of steel, Ishut the illustrious valuable in a cupboard in whichI had a quantity of jewelry and precious stones. This beautiful crown was the constant object of mythoughts, my affections and my preference; but I onlylooked at it myself at long intervals, every six months,very briefly, for fear of exciting the cupidity ofservants, and exposing the glory of Agrippina to somedanger.

When the Princess of Mantua passed through Franceon her way to marry the Duke of York, whose firstwife had left him a widower, the King gave a brilliantreception to this young and lovely creature, daughterof a niece of Cardinal Mazarin.

The conversation was uniformly most agreeable, forshe spoke French with fluency, and employed it withwit. There was talk of open-work crowns andshut crowns. The Marquis de Dangeau, somethingof a savant and antiquary, happened to remark that,under Nero, that magnificent prince, the imperialcrown had first been wrought in the form of an arch,such as is seen now.

The King said then: “I was ignorant ofthat fact; but the crown of the Empress, his mother,was not closed at all. The one which belongsto me is authentic; Madame la Marquise will show itto us:”

A gracious invitation in dumb show completed thisspecies of summons, and I was obliged to execute it. I returned to the King in the space of a few minutes,bringing back in its new case the fugitive present,which a monarch asked back again so politely and withsuch a good grace.

The crown of Agrippina, being placed publicly on asmall round table, excited general attention and admiration. The Italian Princess, Madame de Maintenon, the Ducde Saint Aignan, and Dangeau himself went into rapturesover the rare perfection of these marvellously assortedbrilliants. The King, drawing near, in his turnexamined the masterpiece with pleasure. Suddenly,looking me in the face, he cried:

“But, madame, this is no longer my crown ofa*grippina; all the diamonds have been changed!”

Imagine my trouble, and, I must say, my confusion! Approaching the wretched object, and casting my eyesover it with particular attention, I was not slowin verifying the King’s assertion. Thesetting of this fine work had remained virtually thesame; but some bold hand had removed the antique diamondsand substituted—­false!

I was pale and trembling, and on the verge of swooning. The ladies were sorry for me. The King didme the honour of declaring aloud that I had assuredlybeen duped, and I was constrained to explain this removalof the crown into a more solid and better case forits preservation.

At this naive explanation the King fell to laughing,and said to the young Princess: “Madame,you will relate, if you please, this episode to theCourt of London, and you will tell the King, from me,that nothing is so difficult to preserve now as ourcrowns; guards and locks are no more of use.”

Then, addressing me, his Majesty said, playfully:

“You should have entrusted it to me sooner;I should have saved it. It is said that I understandthat well.”

My amour-propre, my actual honour, forbade me to puta veil over this domestic indignity. I assembledall my household, without excepting my intendant himself. I was aggrieved at the affront which I had met withat the King’s, and I read grief and consternationon all faces. After some minutes’ silence,my intendant proposed the immediate intervention ofauthority, and made me understand with ease that onlythe casket-maker could be the culprit.

This man’s house was visited; he had left Parisnearly two years before. Further informationtold us that, before disposing of his property, hehad imprudently indulged in a certain ostentation offortune, and had embarked for the new settlementsof Pondicherry.

M. Colbert, who is still living, charged our governorto discover the culprit for him; and he was sent backto us with his hands and feet bound.

Put to the question, he denied at first, then confessedhis crime. One of my chamber—­maids,to whom he had made feigned love, introduced him intomy house while I was away, and by the aid of this imprudentwoman he had penetrated into my closets. Thecrown of Agrippina, which it had been necessary toshow him because of the measures, had become almostas dear to him as to myself; and his ambition of anotherkind inspired him with his criminal and fatal temerity.

He did no good by petitioning me, and having me solicitedafter the sentence; I let him hang, as he richly deserved.

The King said on this occasion: “This casketmakerhas, at least, left us the setting, but M. Cromwelltook all.”

The fortunate success of this affair restored me,not to cheerfulness, but to that honourable calm whichhad fled far away from me. I made a reflectionthis time on my extreme imprudence, and understoodthat all the generosities of love are often no morethan loans. I noticed amongst my jewels a gobletof gold, wrought with diamonds and rubies, which camefrom the first of the Medici princesses. I waitedfor the King’s fete to return this magnificentornament to him nobly. I had a lily executed,all of emeralds and fine pearls; I poured essence ofroses into the cup, placed in it the stem of the lily,in the form of a bouquet for the prince, and thatwas my, present for Saint Louis’s day.

I gave back to the King, by degrees, at least threemillions’ worth of important curiosities, whichwere like drops of water poured into the ocean. But I was anxious that, if God destined me to perishby a sudden death, objects of this nature should notbe seen and discovered amid my treasure.

As to my other diamonds, either changed in form oracquired and collected by myself, I destine them formy four children by the King. These pomps willhave served to delight my eyes, which are pleased withthem, and then they will go down to their first originand source, belonging again to the Bourbons whom Ihave made.

CHAPTER XLI.

The duch*esse de Lesdiguieres.—­Her Jest.—­“TheChaise of Convenience.”—­Anger ofthe Jesuits.—­They Ally Themselves with theArchbishop of Paris.—­The Forty Hours’Prayers.—­Thanks of the Marquise to thePrelate.—­His Visit to Saint Joseph.—­Angerof the Marquise.—­Her Welcome to the Prelate.

The insult offered me at the Comedie Francaise bya handful of the thoughtless immediately spread throughthe capital, and became, as it is easy to imagine,the talk of all the salons. I was aware thatthe duch*esse de Lesdiguieres was keenly interestedin this episode, and had embellished and, as it were,embroidered it with her commentaries and reflections. All these women who misconduct themselves are pitilessand severe. The more their scandalous conductbrands them on the forehead, the more they cry outagainst scandal. Their whole life is bemiredwith vice, and their mouth articulates no other wordsthan prudence and virtue, like those corrupt and infecteddoctors who have no indulgence for their patients.

The duch*esse de Lesiguieres, for a long time associatedwith the Archbishop of Paris, and known to live withthat prelate like a miller with his wife, dared tosay, in her salon that my presence at Racine’stragedy was, at the least, very useless, and the publichaving come there to see a debutante, certainly didnot expect me.

The phrase was repeated to me, word for word by mysister De Thianges, who did not conceal her anger,and wished to avenge me, if I did not avenge myself. The Marquise then informed me of another thing, whichshe had left me in ignorance of all along, from kindmotives chiefly, and to prevent scandal.

“You remember, my sister,” said the Marquiseto me, “a sort of jest which escaped you whenPere de la Chaise made the King communicate, in spiteof all the noise of his new love affair and the folliesof Mademoiselle de Fontanges? You nicknamedthat benevolent Jesuit ’the Chaise of Convenience.’ Your epigram made all Paris laugh except the hypocritesand the Jesuits. Those worthy men resolved tohave full satisfaction for your insult by stirringup the whole of Paris against you. The Archbishopentered readily into their plot, for he thought yousupplanted; and he granted them the forty Hours’Prayers, to obtain from God your expulsion from Court. Harlay, who is imprudent only in his debauches, preservedevery external precaution, because of the King, whosetemper he knows; he told the Jesuits that they mustnot expect either his pastoral letter or his mandate,

but he allowed them secret commentaries, the familiarexplanations of the confessional; he charged themto let the other monks and priests into the secret,and the field of battle being decided, the skirmishesbegan. With the aid and assistance of King David,that trivial breastplate of every devotional insult,the preachers announced to their congregations thatthey must fast and mortify themselves for the cureof King David, who had fallen sick. The oratorsfavoured with some wit embellished their invectives;the ignorant and coarse amongst the priests spoiledeverything. The Blessed Sacrament was exposedfor a whole week in the churches, and it ended by anannouncement to Israel, that their cry had reachedthe firmament, that David had grown cold to Bathsheba(they did not add, nevertheless, that David preferredanother to Bathsheba with his whole heart). Butthe duch*esse de Fontanges gave offence neither tothe Archbishop of Paris nor to the Jesuits. Her mind showed no hostility. The beauty wasquite incapable of saying in the face of the worldthat a Jesuit resembled a ‘Chaise of Convenience.’

“The duch*esse de Lesdiguieres, covered withrouge and crimes, has put herself at the head of allthese intrigues,” added my sister; “andwithout having yet been able to subdue herself to theexternal parade of devotion, she has allowed herselfto use against you all the base tricks of the mostdevout hypocrites.”

“Let me act,” I said to my sister; “thislady’s good offices call for a mark of my gratitude. The Forty Hours’ Prayer is an attention thatis not paid to every one; I owe M. de Paris my thanks.”

I went and sat down at my writing-table, and wrotethis fine prelate the following honeyed missive:

I have only just been informed, monseigneur, of thepains you have been at with God for the ameliorationof the King and of myself. The gratitude whichI feel for it cannot be expressed. I pray youto believe it to be as pure and sincere as your intention. A good bishop, as perfect and exemplary as yourself,is worthy of taking a passionate interest in the regularityof monarchs, and ours must owe you the highest rewardsfor this new mark of respect which it has pleasedyou to give him. I will find expressions capableof making him feel all that he owes to your FortyHours’ Prayer, and to that Christian and charitableemotion cast in the midst of a capital and a public. To all that only your mandate of accusation and allegoricalsermons are lacking. Cardinals’ hats, theysay, are made to the measure of strong heads; we willgo seek, in the robing-rooms of Rome, if there beone to meet the proportions of your ability. If ladies had as much honourable influence over theVicar of Jesus Christ as simple bishops allow them,I should solicit, this very day, your wished-for recompenseand exaltation. But it is the monarch’saffair; he will undertake it. I can only offeryou, in my own person, M. Archbishop of Paris, myprayers for yours. My little church of SaintJoseph has not the same splendour as your cathedral;but the incense that we burn there is of better qualitythan yours, for I get it from the Sultan of Persia. I will instruct my little community to-morrow to holdour Forty Hours’ Prayer, that God may promptlycure you of your duch*esse de Lesdiguieres, who hasbeen damning you for fourteen years.

Deign to accept these most sincere reprisals, andbelieve me, without reserve, Monsieur the Archbishop,

The marquise de Montespan.

This letter cast the camp into alarm. Therewere goings and comings between the Episcopal Palaceand the Jesuits of the Rue Saint Antoine, and fromthis professed house to their College of Louis le Grand. The matadores of the society were of opinion thatI should be conciliated by every possible means, andit was arranged that the Archbishop should pay mea visit at Saint Joseph’s, on the earliest possibleoccasion, to exculpate his virtuous colleagues andmake me accept his disclaimers. He came, in effect,the following week. I made him wait for halfan hour in the chapel, for half an hour in my parlour,and I ascended into my carriage, almost in his presence,without deigning either to see or salute him.

The mother of four legitimised princes was not madeto support such outrages, nor to have interviews withtheir insolent authors.

Alarms, anxieties of consciences, weak but virtuous,have always found me gentle, and almost resigned;the false scruples of hypocrites and libertines willnever receive from me aught but disdain and contempt.

CHAPTER XLII.

The Verse of Berenice.—­Praises of Boileau.—­TheKing’s Aversion to
Satirical Writers.—­The Painter Le Brun.—­HisBacchus.—­The
Waterbottle.—­The Pyramid of Jean ChatelInjurious to the Jesuits.—­They
Solicit Its Demolition.—­Madame de Maintenon’sOpposition.—­Political
Views of Henri IV. on This Matter.—­TheJesuits of Paris Proclaim the
Dedication of Their College to Louis the Great.—­TheGold Pieces.

Whatever be the issue of a liaison which cannot probablybe eternal, I have too much judgment and equity todeny the King the great talents which are his by nature,or to dispute the surname of Great which has beengiven him in his lifetime, and which the ages to comemust surely preserve. But here I am writingsecret Memoirs, where I set down, as in a mirror,the most minute traits of the personages whom I bringon the stage, and I wish to relate in what mannerand with what aim this apotheosis affected the mindof those who flattered the prince in their own interest.

The painters and sculptors, most artful of courtiersin their calling, had already represented the King,now with the attributes of Apollo, now in the costumeof the god Mars, of Jupiter Tonans, Neptune, lord ofthe waves; now with the formidable and vigorous appearanceof the great Hercules, who strangled serpents evenin his cradle.

His Majesty saw all these ingenious allegories, examinedthem without vanity, with no enthusiasm, and seemedto regard them as accessories inherent to the composition,as conventional ornaments, the good and current smallchange of art. The adulations of Racine, in his“Berenice,” having all a foundation oftruth, please him, but chiefly for the grace of thepoetry; and he sometimes recited them, when he wishedto recall and quote some fine verse.

The praises of Boileau, although well versified, hadnot, however, the fortune to please him. Hefound those verses too methodical for poetry; andthe poet, moreover, seemed to him somewhat a huckster,and in bad taste. The satirists might do whatthey liked, they never had his friendship. Perhapshe feared them.

When Le Brun started preparing the magnificent cradleof the great gallery, he composed for the ceilingrich designs or cartoons, which in their entiretyshould represent the victories and great military orlegislative achievements of the prince. His workbeing finished, he came to present it to his Majesty,who on that day was dining with me. In one ofthe compartments the painter had depicted his heroin the guise of Bacchus; the King immediately tookup a bottle of clear water and drank a big glass. I gave a great peal of laughter, and said to M. leBrun, “You see, monsieur, his Majesty’sdecision in that libation of pure water.”

M. le Brun changed his design, seeing the King hadno love for Bacchus, but he left the Thundering Jove,and all the other mythological flatteries, in regardto which no opinion had been given.

The Jesuits for a long time past had groaned at seeing,exactly opposite the Palace,—­[In the midstof the semicircle in front of the Palais de Justice.]—­in the centre of Paris, that humiliatingpyramid which accused them of complicity with, orinciting, the famous regicide of the student, JeanChatel, assassin of Henri IV. Pere de la Chaise,many times and always in vain, had prayed his Majestyto render justice to the virtues of his order, andto command the destruction of this slanderous monument. The King had constantly refused, alleging to-day onemotive, to-morrow another. One day, when theprofessed House of Paris came to hand him a respectfulpetition on the subject, his Majesty begged Madamede Maintenon to read it to him, and engaged us to listento it with intelligence, in order to be able to givean opinion.

The Jesuits said in this document that the Parliament,with an excessive zeal, had formerly pushed thingsmuch too far in this matter. “For thatJean Chatel, student with the Jesuit Fathers, havingbeen heard to say to his professor that the King ofNavarre, a true Huguenot, ought not to reign overFrance, which was truly Catholic, the magistrates werenot, therefore, justified in concluding that thatJesuit, and all the Jesuits, had directed the daggerof Jean Chatel, a madman.”

The petition further pointed out that “the goodKing Henri IV., who was better informed, had decidedto recall the Society of Jesus, had reestablishedit in all his colleges, and had even chosen a confessorfrom their ranks.

“This fearful pyramid,

[This monument represented a sort of small squaretemple, built of Arcueil stone and marble. Corinthianfluted pillars formed its general decoration, andenshrined the four fulminatory inscriptions.Independently of the obelisk, the cupola of this templebore eight allegorical statues, of which the one wasFrance in mourning; the second, Justice raising hersword, and the others the principal virtues of theKing. On the principal side these words occurred:“Passer-by, whosoever thou be, abhor Jean Chatel,and the Jesuits who beguiled his youth and destroyedhis reason.”—­Editor’s note.]

surcharged with wrathful inscriptions,” addedthe petition, “designates our Society as a perpetualhotbed of regicidal conspiracy, and presents us tocredulous people as an association of ambitious, thanklessand corrupt assassins!”

“In the name of God, Sire, do away with thiscriminal and dangerous memento of old passions, unjusthatreds, and the spirit of impiety which, after havingled astray magistrates devoid of light, serves to-dayonly to beguile new generations, whom excess of lightblinds,” etc., etc.

When this letter was finished, the King said:

“I have never seen, the famous pyramid; oneof these days I will escape, so that I can see itwithout being observed.” And then his Majestyasked me what I thought of the petition. I answeredthat I did not understand the inconsistency of M.de Sully, who, after consenting to the return of theJesuits, had left in its place the monument which accusedand branded them. I put it on Sully, the minister,because I dared not attack Henri IV. himself.

The King answered me: “There are faultsof negligence such as that in every government andunder the best administrations. King Henri mygrandfather was vivacity itself. He was easilyirritated; he grew calm in the same way. Formy part, I think that he pardoned the Jesuits, ashe had the Leaguers, in the hope that his clemencywould bring them all into peaceful disposition; inwhich he was certainly succeeding when a miscreantkilled him.”

Madame de Maintenon, begged to give her opinion, expressedherself in these terms: “Sire, this petitioncannot be other than extremely well done, since asociety of clever minds have taken the work in hand. We have not the trial of Jean Chatel before our eyes,with his interrogatories; it is impossible for us,then, to pronounce on the facts. In any case,there is one thing very certain: the Jesuits whoare living at present are innocent, and most innocentof the faults of their predecessors.

“The sentences and anathemas which surchargethe pyramid, as they say, can in no way draw downupon them the anger of passers-by and the populace,for these inscriptions, which I have read, are in badLatin. This monument, which is very rich andeven elegant in itself, is placed upon the site ofthe destroyed house of the assassin Chatel. Themost ignorant of your Parisians knows this circ*mstance,which he has learnt from family traditions. It is good that the people see every day before theireyes this solitary pyramid, which teaches how King’sassassins are punished and what is done with the housesin which they were born.

“King Henri IV., for all his gaiety, had witsenough for four; he left the pyramid standing, likethose indulgent people who compromise a great lawsuit,but do not on that account destroy the evidence anddocuments.

“This monument, besides, is the work of theParliament of Paris; that illustrious assembly hasraised it, and perhaps your Majesty might seem toaccuse justice by destroying what it has once donefor a good cause.”

The King smiled at the conclusions of the lady inwaiting, and said to both of us: “Thisis between us three, I pray you, ladies; I will keepPere de la Chaise amused with promises some day.”

Madame de Maintenon, for a brief time in her firstyouth a Calvinist, cherished always in the bottomof her heart a good share of those suspicions thatCalvin’s doctrine is careful to inspire againstthe Jesuits.

On the other hand, she retained amongst the Parliamenta large number of friends whom she had known formerlyat M. Scarron’s, the son of a counsellor ofthe chamber. I understood that in those circ*mstancesshe was well pleased to prove to the gentlemen ofParliament that the interests of their house werekept in good hands, and that she would not abandonher friends of the Place Royale and the Marais forall the Jesuits and all the pyramids in the world.

The Parliament, which was informed of her conductand fidelity, bore her infinite good-will for it. The first president, decorated with his blue riband,came; to express his formal thanks, and begged herto accept in perpetuity a key of honour to the HighChamber.

[In famous and unusual causes, princes, ambassadors,and keys of honour came and occupied the lanterns,that is to say, elegant and well furnished tribunes,from which all that passed in the grand hall of theParliament could be seen.]

The Jesuits, for perseverance and tenacity, can becompared with spiders who repair, or start again everyinstant at a damaged or broken thread. When thesegood fathers knew that their petition had not triumphedoffhand, they struck out for some new road to reachthe generous heart of the monarch. Having learntthat an alderman, full of enthusiasm, had just proposedin full assembly at the Hotel de Ville to raise a triumphalmonument to the Peacemaker of Europe, and to proclaimhim Louis the Great at a most brilliant fete, theJesuit Fathers cleverly took the initiative, and whilstthe Hotel de Ville was deliberating to obtain hisMajesty’s consent, the College of Clermont, inthe Rue Saint Jacques, brought out its annual thesis,and dedicated it to the King,—­Louis theGreat (Ludovico Magno).

On the following day the masons raised scaffoldingbefore the great door of the college, erased the originalinscription—­which consisted of the words:“College of Clermont”—­to substitutefor it, in letters of gold: “Royal Collegeof Louis the Great.” These items of newsreached Versailles one after the other. TheKing received them with visible satisfaction, andif only Pere de la Chaise had known how to profit atthe time by the emotion and sentiment of the prince,he would have carried off the tall pyramid as an eagledoes a sparrow. The confessor, a man of greatcirc*mspection, dared not force his penitent’shand; he was tactful with him in all things, and thesociety had the trouble of its famous cajolery withoutgaining anything more at the game than complimentsand gold pieces in sufficient plenty.

Some days afterwards the monarch, of his own accordand without any incentive, remembered the offensiveand mortifying pyramid; but Madame de Maintenon remindedhim that it was desirable to wait, for scoffers wouldnot be wanting to say that this demolition was oneof the essential conditions of the bargain.

The King relished this advice. At the Courtone must make haste to obtain anything; but to beforgotten, a few minutes’ delay is sufficient.

[This pyramid was taken down two or three years beforethe Revolution by the wish of Louis XVI., after havingstood for two hundred years.—­Editor’snote.]

CHAPTER XLIII.

Little Opportune.—­M. and Madame Bontems.—­TheYoung Moor Weaned.—­The Good Cure.—­TheBlessed Virgin.—­Opportune at the Augustiniansof Meaux.—­Bossuet Director.—­MademoiselleAlbanier and Leontine.—­Flight of Opportune.—­HerThreats of Suicide.—­Visit of the Marquise.—­Prudenceof the Court.

The poor Queen had had several daughters, all divinelywell made and pretty as little Cupids. Theykept in good health up to their third or fourth year;they went no further. It was as though a fatewas over these charming creatures; so that the Kingand Queen trembled whenever the accoucheurs announceda daughter instead of a son.

My readers remember the little negress who was bornto the Queen in the early days,—­she whomno one wanted, who was dismissed, relegated, disinherited,unacknowledged, deprived of her rank and name the veryday of her birth; and who, by a freak of destiny,enjoyed the finest health in the world, and surmounted,without any precautions or care, all the difficulties,perils, and ailments of infancy.

M. Bontems, first valet de chambre of the cabinets,served as her guardian, or curator; even he actedonly through the efforts and movements of an intermediary. It was wished that this young Princess should beignorant of her birth, and in this I agree that, inthe midst of crying injustice, the King kept his naturalhumanity. This poor child not being meant, andnot being able, to appear at Court, it was better,indeed, to keep her from all knowledge of her rights,in order to deprive her, at one stroke, of the distressof her conformation, the hardship of her repudiation,and the despair of captivity. The King destinedher for a convent when he saw her born, and M. Bontemspromised that it should be so.

At the age of three, she was withdrawn from the handsof her nurse, and Madame Bontems put her to be weanedin her own part of the world. Opportune,—­[Shewas born on Sainte Opportune’s Day.]—­clothedand nourished like the other children of the farmer,who was her new patron, played with them in the barnsor amongst the snow; she followed them into the orchardsand fields; she filled, like them, her little basketwith acorns that had been left after the crop was

over, or ears of corn that the gleaners had neglected,or withered branches and twigs left by the wood-cuttersfor the poor. Her nude, or semi-nude, arms grewrough in the burning sun, and more so still in thefrosts. Her pretty feet, so long as the fineseason lasted, did not worry about being shod, andwhen November arrived with its terrors, Opportunetook her little heeled sabots like the other countrychildren. M. and Madame Bontems wrote everysix months to inquire if she were dead, and each timethe answer came that the little Moor was in wonderfulhealth.

The pastor of the neighbouring hamlet felt pity forthis poor child, who was sometimes tormented by hercompanions on account of her colour. The goodcure even went so far as to declare, one day when therewas a sermon, that the Virgin Mary, if one was tobelieve respectable books, was black from head tofoot, which did not prevent her from being most beautifulin the sight of God and of men.

This good cure taught the gentle little orphan toread and pray. He often came to her farm to visither, and probably he knew her birth; he was in advancedage, and he died. Then Opportune was placed withthe Augustinian ladies of Meaux, where Bossuet chargedhimself with the task of instructing her well in religionand of making her take the veil.

The lot of this young victim of pride and vain prejudicestouched me in spite of myself, and often I made afirm resolution to take her away from her oppressorsand adopt her in spite of everybody. The poorQueen, forgetting our rivalry, had taken all my childreninto her affections. Why should not I have showna just recognition by protecting an innocent littlecreature animated with her breath, life, and blood,—­achild whom she would have loved, I do not doubt, ifshe had been permitted to see and recognise her? This idea grew so fixed in my, mind, that I resolvedto see Opportune and do her some good, if I were able.

The interest of my position had led me once to assuremyself of the neighbourhood of the King by certainlittle measures, not of curiosity but of surveillance. I had put with M. Bontems a young man of intelligenceand devotion, who, without passing due limits, keptme informed of many things which it is as well toknow.

When I knew, without any doubt, the new abiding-placeof Opportune, I secretly sent to the Augustiniansof Meaux the young and intelligent sister of my womanof the bedchamber, who presented herself as an aspirantfor the novitiate. They were ignorant in thehouse of the relations of Mademoiselle Albanier withher sister Leontine Osselin, so that they wrote toeach other, but by means of a cipher, and under seal,addressing their missives to a relative.

Albanier lost no time in informing us that the littleOpportune had begun to give her her confidence, andthat the nuns took it in very good part, believingthem both equally called to take the veil in theirconvent. Opportune knew, though in a somewhatvague way, to what great personage she owed her life,and it appeared that the good cure had informed her,out of compassion, before he left this world. Albanier wrote to Leontine:

“Tell Madame la Marquise that Opportune is fullof wit; she resembles M. le Duc du Maine as thoughshe were his twin; her carriage is exactly that ofthe King; her body is built to perfection, and wereit not for her colour, the black of which diminishesday by day, she would be one of the loveliest personsin France; she is sad and melancholy by temperament,but as I have succeeded in attracting her confidence,and diverting her as much as one can do in a purgatorylike this, we dance sometimes in secret, and thenyou would think you saw Mademoiselle de Nantes danceand pirouette.

“When any one pronounces the name of the King,she trembles. She asked me to-day whether Ihad seen the King, if he were handsome, if he werecourteous and affable. It seemed to me as thoughshe was already revolving some great project in herbrain, and if I am not mistaken, she has quite decidedto scale the fruit-trees against our garden wall andescape across country.

“M. Bossuet, in his quality of Bishop ofMeaux, has the right of entry into this house; hehas come here three times since my arrival; he hasgiven me each time a little tap on my check in tokenof goodwill, and such as one gets at confirmation;he told me that he longs to see me take the veil ofthe Ursulines, as well as my little scholar; it isby that name he likes to call her.

“Opportune answers him with a stately air whichwould astound you; she only calls him monsieur, andwhen told that she has made an error, and that sheshould say monseigneur, she replies with great seriousness,’I had forgotten it.’”

Mademoiselle Albanier, out of kindness to me, passednearly two years in this house, which she always calledher purgatory, but the endeavours of the superiorand of M. Bossuet becoming daily more pressing, andher health, which had suffered, being unable to supportthe seclusion longer, she made up her mind to retire.

Her departure was a terrible blow to the daughterof the Queen. This young person, who was bynature affectionate, almost died of grief at the separation. We learnt that, after having been ill and then ailingfor several weeks, she found the means of escapingfrom the convent, and of taking refuge with some lordlychatelaine. M. de Meaux had her pursued, butas she threatened to kill herself if she were takenback to the Abbey of Notre Dame, the prelate wroteto M. Bontems, that is to say, to the real father,and poor Opportune was taken to Moret, a convent ofBenedictines, in the forest of Fontainebleau. There they took the course of lavishing care, andkindness, and attentions on her. But as herdestiny, written in her cradle, was an irrevocablesentence, she was finally made to take the veil, whichsuited her admirably, and which she wears with aninfinite despair.

I disguised myself one day as a lady suitor who soughta lodging in the house. I established myselfthere for a week, under the name of the Comtesse deClagny, and I saw, with my own eyes, a King’sdaughter reduced to singing matins. Her airof nobility and dignity struck me with admirationand moved me to tears. I thought of her foursisters, dead at such an early age, and deplored thecruelty of Fate, which had spared her in her childhoodto kill her slowly and by degrees.

I would have accosted her in the gardens, and insinuatedmyself into her confidence, but the danger of theseinterviews, both for her and me, restrained what hadbeen an ill-judged kindness. We should both havegone too far, and the monarch would have been ableto think that I was opposing him out of revenge, andto give him pain.

This consideration came and crushed all my projectsof compassion and kindness. There are situationsin life where we are condemned to see evil done inall liberty, without being able to call for succouror complain.

CHAPTER XLIV.

The Aristocratic Republic of Genoa Offends the King.—­Its
Punishment.—­Reception of the Doge at Parisand Versailles.

M. de Louvois—­by nature, as I have said,hard and despotic—­was quite satisfied togain the same reputation for the King, in order tocover his own violence and rigour beneath the authorityof the monarch.

The King, I admit, did not like to be contradictedor opposed. He became irritated if one was unfortunateenough to do so; but I know from long experience thathe readily accepted a good excuse, and by inclinationliked neither to punish nor blame. The Marquisde Louvois was unceasingly occupied in exciting himagainst one Power and then another, and his policywas to keep the prince in constant alarm of distrustin order to perpetuate wars and dissensions. This order of things pleased that minister, who dreadedintervals of calm and peace, when the King came toexamine expenses and to take account of the good orbad employment of millions.

The Republic of Genoa, accustomed to build vesselsfor all nations, built some of them, unfortunately,for the King’s enemies. These constructionswere paid for in advance. M. de Louvois, well-informedof what passed in Genoa, waited till the last momentto oppose the departure of the four or five new ships. The Genoese, promising to respect the King’swill in the future, sent these vessels to their destination.

On the report and conclusions of M. de Louvois, hisMajesty commanded the senators of Genoa to hand overto his Minister of War the sums arising from the saleof these, and to send their Doge and four of the mostdistinguished senators to beg the King’s pardonin his palace at Versailles.

The senate having replied that, by a fundamental law,a Doge could not leave the, city without instantlylosing his power and dignity, the King answered thismessage to the effect that the Doge would obey as anextraordinary circ*mstance, that in this solitary casehe would derogate from the laws of the Genoese Republic,and that, the King’s will being explicit andunalterable, the Doge would none the less maintainhis authority.

Whilst waiting, his Majesty sent a fleet into Italianwaters, and the city of Genoa immediately sustainedthe most terrible bombardment.

The flag of distress and submission having been flownfrom all the towers, our admirals ceased, and theDoge set out for Versailles, accompanied by the fouroldest senators.

At the news of their approach, all Paris echoed thesongs of triumph that M. de Louvois had had composed. A spacious hotel was prepared to receive these representativesof a noble, aristocratic republic; and, to withdrawthem from the insults of the populace, they were givenguards and archers.

Although the chateau of Versailles was in all thelustre of its novelty, since it had been inhabitedfor only two years, I perceived that they had evenbeen adding to its magnificence, and that everywherewere new curtains, new candelabra, new carpets. The throne on which the monarch was to sit surpassedall that we had ever seen.

On the eve of the solemn presentation the astonishedambassadors appeared incognito before the minister,who dictated to them their costumes, their reverences,and all the substance of their address. The influxof strangers and Parisians to Versailles, to be witnessesof such a spectacle, was so extraordinary and prodigiousthat the hostels and other public inns were insufficient,and they were obliged to light fires of yew in allthe gardens.

In the great apartments there were persons of thehighest rank who sought permission to pass the nighton benches, so that they might be all there and preparedon the following day. On the two sides of thegreat gallery they had raised tribunes in steps, drapedin ‘Cramoisi’ velvet. It was onthese steps, which were entirely new, that all theladies were placed. The lords stood upright belowthem, and formed a double hedge on each side.

When his Majesty appeared on his throne, the fireof the diamonds with which he was covered for a momentdazzled all eyes. The King seemed to me lessanimated than was his wont; but his fine appearance,which never quits him, rendered him sufficiently fitfor such a representation and his part in it.

The Doge of the humiliated Republic exhibited neitherobsequiousness nor pride. We found his demeanourthat of a philosopher prepared for all human events. His colleagues walked after him, but at a little distance.When the Doge Lescaro had asked for pardon, as he hadsubmitted to do, two of his senators fell to weeping. The King, who noticed the general emotion, descendedfrom his throne and spoke for some minutes with thefive personages, and, smiling on them with his mostseductive grace, he once more drew all hearts to him.

I was placed at two paces from Madame de Maintenon. The Doge,—­who was never left by a masterof ceremonies, who named the ladies to him,—­inpassing before me, made a profound reverence. He then drew near Madame de Maintenon, who heardall his compliments, said to him, in Italian, allthat could be said, and did him the honour to leanon his hand when descending from her tribune to returnto the King’s.

On the next day the Doge and senators came to presenttheir homage to my children, and did not forget mein their visits of ceremony.

CHAPTER XLV.

The Comte de Vermandois.—­His Entrance intothe World.—­Quarrels with the Dauphin.—­Duel.—­Siegeof Courtrai.—­The Cathedral of Arras.

When Madame de la Valliere (led by suggestions comingfrom the Most High) left the Court and the world toshut herself up in a cloister, she committed a greatimprudence; I should not know how to repeat it:The Carmelites in the Rue Saint Jacques could easilydo without her; her two poor little children couldnot. The King confided them, I am well aware,to governors and governesses who were prudent, attentive,and capable; but all the governors and preceptorsin the world will never replace a mother,—­aboveall, in a place of dissipation, tumult, and carelessnesslike the Court.

M. le Comte de Vermandois was only seven years oldwhen exaggerated scruples and bad advice deprivedhim of his mother. This amiable child, who lovedher, at first suffered much from her absence and departure.He had to be taken to the Carmelites, where the sadmetamorphosis of his mother, whom he had seen so brilliantand alluring, made him start back in fright.

He loved her always as much as he was loved by her,and in virtue of the permission formally given bythe Pope, he went every week to pass an hour or twowith her in the parlour. He regularly took therehis singing and flute lessons; these were two amiabletalents in which he excelled.

About his twelfth year he was taken with the measles,and passed through them fairly well. The smallpoxcame afterwards, but respected his charming brownface. A severe shower of rain, which caught himin some forest, made him take rheumatism; the watersof Vichy cured him; he returned beaming with healthand grace.

The King loved him tenderly, and everybody at Courtshared this predilection of the monarch. M.de Vermandois, of a stature less than his father,was none the less one of the handsomest cavaliers atthe Court. To all the graces of his amiablemother he joined an ease of manner, a mixture of nobilityand modesty, which made him noticeable in the midstof the most handsome and well made. I loved himwith a mother’s fondness, and, from all hisingenuous and gallant caresses, it was easy to seethat he made me a sincere return.

This poor Comte de Vermandois, about a year beforethe death of the Queen, had a great and famous disputewith Monsieur le Dauphin, a jealous prince, whichbrought him his first troubles, and deprived him suddenlyof the protecting favour of the Infanta-queen.

At a ball, at the duch*esse de Villeroi’s, allthe Princes of the Blood appeared. Monseigneur,who from childhood had had a fancy for Mademoisellede Blois, his legitimised sister, loved her far moredefinitely since her marriage with M. le Prince deConti. Monseigneur is lacking in tact. At this ball he thought he could parade his sentiments,which were visibly unpleasant, both to the young husbandand to the Princess herself. He danced, nevertheless,for some minutes with her; but, suddenly, she feignedto be seized with a sharp pain in the spleen, andwas conducted to a sofa. The young Comte de Vermandoiscame and sat there near her. They were bothexhibiting signs of gaiety; their chatter amused them,and they were seen to laugh with great freedom. Although Monsieur le Dauphin was assuredly not intheir thoughts, he thought they were making merryat his expense. He came and sat at the rightof the Princess and said to her:

“Your brother is very ill-bred!”

“Do you think so?” the Princess answeredimmediately. “My brother is the most amiableboy in the world. He is laughing at my talkingto myself. He assures me that my pain is in myknee instead of being in the spleen, and that is whatwe were amusing ourselves at, quite innocently.”

“Your brother thinks himself my equal,”added the Prince; “in which he certainly makesa mistake. All his diamonds prove nothing; Ishall have, when I like, those of the crown.”

“So much the worse, monsieur,” repliedthe Comte de Vermandois, quickly. “Thosediamonds should never change hands,—­at least,for a very long time.”

These words degenerating into an actual provocation,Monseigneur dared to say to his young brother that,were it not for his affection for the Princess, hewould make him feel that he was——­

“My elder brother,” resumed the Comtede Vermandois, “and nothing more, I assure you.”

Before the ball was over, they met in an alcove andgave each other a rendezvous not far from Marly. Both of them were punctual; but Monsieur le Dauphinhad given his orders, so that they were followed inorder to be separated.

The King was informed of this adventure; he immediatelygave expression to his extreme dissatisfaction, andsaid:

“What! is there hatred and discord already amongstmy children?”

I spoke next to elucidate the facts, for I had learnteverything, and I represented M. de Vermandois asunjustly provoked by his brother. His Majestyreplied that Monsieur le Dauphin was the second personagein the Empire, and that all his brothers owed himrespect up to a certain point.

“It was out of deference and respect that theCount accepted the challenge,” said I to theKing; “and here the offending party made thedouble attack.”

“What a misfortune!” resumed the King. “I thought them as united amongst themselvesas they are in my heart. Vermandois is quick,and as explosive as saltpetre; but he has the bestnature in the world. I will reconcile them;they will obey me.”

The scene took place in my apartment, owing to myDuc du Maine. “My son,” said hisMajesty to the child of the Carmelite, “I havelearned with pain what has passed at Madame de Villeroi’sand then in the Bois de Marly. You will be pardonedfor this imprudence because of your age; but neverforget that Monsieur le Dauphin is your superior inevery respect, and must succeed me some day.”

“Sire,” replied the Count, “I havenever offended nor wished to offend Monseigneur. Unhappily for me, he detests me, as though you hadnot the right to love me.”

At these words Monsieur le Dauphin blushed, and theKing hastened to declare that he loved all his childrenwith a kindness perfectly alike; that rank and distinctionsof honour had been regulated, many centuries ago,by the supreme law of the State; that he desired unionand concord in the heart of the royal family; andhe commanded the two brothers to sacrifice for himall their petty grievances, and to embrace in hispresence.

Hearing these words, the Comte de Vermandois, witha bow to his father, ran in front of Monseigneur,and, spreading out his arms, would have embraced him. Monsieur le Dauphin remained cold and dumb; he receivedthis mark of good-will without returning it, and veryobviously displeased his father thereby.

These little family events were hushed up, and Monseigneurwas almost explicitly forbidden to entertain any othersentiments for Madame de Conti than those of due friendshipand esteem.

Some time after that, Messieurs de Conti, great loversof festivity, pleasure, and costly delights, whichare suited only for people of their kind, draggedthe Comte de Vermandois, as a young debutant, intoone of those licentious parties where a young manis compelled to see things which excite horror.

His first scruples overcome, M. de Vermandois, naturallydisposed to what is out of the common, wished to giveguarantees of his loyalty and courage; from a simplespectator he became, it is said, an accomplice.

There is always some false friend in these forbiddenassemblies. The King heard the details of anorgy so unpardonable, and the precocious misconductof his cherished son gave him so much pain, that Isaw his tears fall. The assistant governor ofthe young criminal was dismissed; his valet de chambrewas sent to prison; only three of his servants wereretained, and he himself was subjected to a state ofpenitence which included general confessions and themost severe discipline. He resigned himselfsincerely to all these heavy punishments. Hepromised to associate only with his mother, his newgovernor, his English horses, and his books; and thismanner of life, carried out with a grandeur of soul,made of him in a few months a perfect gentleman, inthe honourable and assured position to which his greatheart destined him.

The King, satisfied with this trial, allowed him togo and prove his valour at the sieges of Digmude andCourtrai. All the staff officers recognisedsoon in his conversation, his zeal, his methods, aworthy rival of the Vendomes. They wrote charmingthings of him to the Court. A few days afterwardswe learned at Versailles that M. de Vermandois wasdead, in consequence of an indisposition caught whilstbivouacking, which at first had not seemed dangerous.

The King deplored this loss, as a statesman and agood father. I was a witness of his affliction;it seemed to me extreme. One knew not whom toapproach to break the news to the poor Carmelite. The Bishop of Meaux, sturdy personage, voluntarilyundertook the mission, and went to it with a tranquilbrow, for he loved such tasks.

To his hoarse and funereal voice Soeur Louise onlyreplied with groans and tears. She fell uponthe floor without consciousness, and M. Bossuet wenton obstinately preaching Christian resignation andstoicism to a senseless mother who heard him not.

About a fortnight after the obsequies of the Prince(which I, too, had celebrated in my church of SaintJoseph), the underprioress of that little communitybegged me to come to Paris for a brief time and consecratehalf an hour to her. I responded to her invitation. This is the important secret which the good nun hadto confide to me: Before expiring; the youngPrince had found time to interview his faithful valetde chambre behind his curtains. “Aftermy death,” said he, “you will repair,not to the King, my father, but to Madame la Marquisede Montespan, who has given me a thousand proofs ofkindness in my behalf. You will remit to hermy casket, in which all my private papers are kept.She will be kind enough to destroy all which oughtnot to survive me, and to hand over the remainder,not to my good mother, who will have only too muchsorrow, but to Madame la Princesse de Conti, whoseindulgence and kindness are known to me.”

Sydney, this valet de chambre, informed me that theCount was dead, not through excessive brandy, as theDauphin’s people spread abroad, but from a cerebralfever, which a copious bleeding would have dissipatedat once. All the soldiers wept for this youngPrince, whose generous affability had charmed them. Sydney had just accompanied his body to Arras, where,by royal command, it had been laid in a vault of thecathedral. I opened his pretty casket of citronwood, with locks of steel and silver. The firstobject which met my eyes was a fine and charming portraitof Madame de la Valliere. The face was smilingin the midst of this great tragedy, and that upsetme entirely, and made my tears flow again. Fiveor six tales of M. la Fontaine had been imitated mostelegantly by the young Prince himself, and to theserather frivolous verses he had joined some songs andmadrigals. All these little relics of a youthso eager to live betokened a mind that was agreeable,and not libertine. In any case the sacrificewas accomplished; reflections were in vain. Iburned these papers, and all those which seemed tome without direct importance or striking interest. That was not the case with a correspondence, fullof wit, tenderness, and fire, of whose origin thegood Sydney pretended ignorance, but which two orthree anecdotes that were related sufficiently revealedto me. The handsome Comte de Vermandois, barelyseventeen years old, had won the heart of a fair lady,of about his own age, who expressed her passion forhim with an energy, a delicacy, and a talent far beyondall that we admire in books.

I knew her; the King loved her. Her husband,a most distinguished field-officer, cherished herand believed her to be faithful. I burned thisdangerous correspondence, for M. de Vermandois, barelyadolescent, was already a father, and his mistressgloried in it.

On receiving this casket, in which she saw once morethe portraits of her mother, her brother, and herhusband, Madame la Princesse de Conti felt the mostsorrowful emotion. I told her that I had acquittedmyself, out of kindness and respect, of a commissionalmost beyond my strength, and I begged her neverto mention it to the King, who, perhaps, would haveliked to see and judge himself all that I had destroyed.

M. le Comte de Vermandois left by his death the postof High Admiral vacant. The King begged me tobring him my little Comte de Toulouse; and passinground his neck a fine chain of coral mixed with pearls,to which a diamond anchor was attached, he investedhim with the dignity of High Admiral of France. “Be ever prudent and good, my amiable child,”he said to him, raising his voice, which had grownweak; “be happier than your predecessor, andnever give me the grief of mourning your loss.”

I thanked the King for my son, who looked at his decorationof brilliants and did not feel its importance. I hope that he will feel that later, and prove himselfworthy of it.

CHAPTER XLVI.

The House of Saint Cyr.—­Petition of theMonks of Saint Denis to the King, against the Planof Madame de Maintenon.—­Madame de MaintenonSummons Them and Sends Them Away with Small Consolation.

At the time when I founded my little community ofSaint Joseph, Madame de Maintenon had already collectednear her chateau at Rueil a certain number of well-bornbut poor young persons, to whom she was giving a goodeducation, proportioned to their present conditionand their birth. She had charged herself withthe maintenance of two former nuns, noble and welleducated, who, at the fall of their community, hadbeen recommended, or had procured a recommendation,to her. Mesdames de Brinon and du Basque werethese two vagrant nuns. Madame de Maintenon,instinctively attracted to this sort of persons, welcomedand protected them.

The little pension or community of Rueil, having soonbecome known, several families who had fallen intodistress or difficulty solicited the kindness of thedirectress towards their daughters, and Madame deMaintenon admitted more inmates than the space allowed.A more roomy habitation was bought nearer Versailles,which was still only temporary and the King, havingbeen taken into confidence with regard to these littlegirls, who mostly belonged to his own impoverishedofficers, judged that the moment had come to founda fine and large educational establishment for theyoung ladies of his nobility.

He bought, at the entrance to the village of SaintCyr, in close proximity to Versailles, a large oldchateau, belonging to M. Seguier; and on the siteof this chateau, which he pulled down, the royal houseof Saint Cyr was speedily erected. I will notgo into the nature and aim of a foundation which isknown nowadays through the whole of Europe. Iwill content myself with observing that if Madamede Maintenon conceived the first idea of it, it isthe great benefactions of the monarch and the profoundrecognition of the nobility which have given stabilityand renown to this house.

Madame de Maintenon received much praise and incenseas the foundress of this community. It has beenquite easy for her to found so vast an establishmentwith the treasures of France, since she herself hadremained poor, by her own confession, and had neitherto sell nor encumber Maintenon, her sole property.

In founding my community of Saint Joseph, I was neitherseconded nor aided by anybody. Saint Josephsprings entirely from myself, from good intentions,without noise or display. Saint Joseph is oneof my good actions, and although it makes no greatnoise in the world, I would rather have founded itthan Saint Cyr, where the most exalted houses procureadmission for their children with false certificatesof poverty.

The buildings of Saint Cyr, in spite of all the sumsthey have absorbed, have no external nobility or grandeur. The foundress put upon it the seal of her parsimony,or, rather, of her general timidity. She is likeMoliere’s Harpagon, who would like to do greatthings for little money.

[Here Madame de Montespan forgets what she has justsaid, that Saint-Cyr cost “immense sums,”—­anordinary effect of passion.—­Ed. Note]

The only beauty about the house is in the laundryand gardens. All the rest reminds you of a conventof Capuchins. The chapel has not even necessaryand indispensable dignity; it is a long, narrow barn,without arches, pillars, or decorations. TheKing, having wished to know beforehand what revenuewould be needed for a community of four hundred persons,consulted M. de Louvois. That minister, accustomedto calculate open-handedly, put in an estimate offive hundred thousand livres a year. The foundresspresented hers, which came to no more than twenty-fivethousand crowns. His Majesty adopted a middlecourse, and assigned a revenue of three hundred thousandlivres to his Royal House of Saint Cyr.

The foundress, foreseeing the financial embarrassmentswhich have supervened later, conceived the idea ofmaking the clergy (who are childless) support theeducation of these three hundred and fifty young ladies. In consequence, she cast her eyes upon the rich abbeyof Saint Denis, then vacant, and suggested it to theKing, as being almost sufficient to provide for thenew establishment.

This idea astonished the prince. He found it,at first, audacious, not to say perilous; but, onfurther reflection, considering that the monks ofSaint Denis live under the rule of a prior, and neversee their abbot, who is almost always a great nobleand a man of the world, his Majesty consented to suppressthe said abbey in order to provide for the children.

The monks of Saint Denis, alarmed at such an innovation(which did not, however, affect their own goods andrevenues), composed a petition in the form of thefactum that our advocates draw up in a suit. They exclaimed in this document “on the disreputewhich this innovation would bring upon their ancient,respectable, and illustrious community. In suppressingthe title of Abbot of Saint Denis,” they saidfurther, “your Majesty, in reality, suppressesour abbey; and if our abbey is reduced to nothing,our basilica, where the Kings, your ancestors, lie,will be no more than a royal church, and will ceaseto be abbatial.”

Further on, this petition said: “Sire,may it please your Majesty, whose eyes can see sofar, to appreciate this innovation in all its terribleconsequences. By striking to-day dissolutionand death into the first abbey of your kingdom, doyou not fear to leave behind you a great and sinisterprecedent? . . . What Louis the Great haslooked upon as possible will seem righteous and necessaryto your successors; and it will happen, maybe, beforelong, that the thirst for conquests and the needsof the State (those constant and familiar pretextsof ministers) will authorise some political Attilato extend your work, and wreak destruction upon thetabernacle by depriving it of the splendour which isits due, and which sustains it.”

Madame de Maintenon, to whom this affair was entrusted,summoned the administrative monks of Saint Denis toVersailles. She received them with her agreeableand seductive courtesy, and, putting on her dulcetand fluted voice, said to them that their alarm waswithout foundation; that his Majesty did not suppresstheir abbey; that he simply took it from the malesex to give it to the female, seeing that the Saliclaw never included the dignities of the Church norher revenues.

“The King leaves you,” she added, “thoseimmense and prodigious treasures of Saint Denis, moreancient, perhaps, than the Oriflamme. That isyour finest property, your true and illustrious glory. In general, your abbots have been, to this very day,unknown to you. Do you find, gentlemen, thatreligion was more honoured and respected when men ofbattle, covered with murders and other crimes, werecalled Abbots of Saint Denis? Beneath the governmentof the King such nominations would never have affectedthe Church; and after the present M. le Chevalier deLorraine, we shall hear no more of nominating an abbot-commandanton the steps of the Opera.

“Our little girls are cherubim and seraphim,occupied unceasingly with the praise of the Lord. I recommend them to your holy prayers, and you cancount on theirs.”

With this compliment she dismissed the monks, andwhat she had resolved on was carried out.

The King, who all his life had loved children greatly,did not take long to contract an affection for thisbudding colony. He liked to assist sometimesat their recreations and exercises, and, as thoughVersailles had been at the other end of the world,he had a magnificent apartment built at Saint Cyr. This fine armorial pavilion decorates the first longcourt in the centre. The mere buildings announcea king; the royal crown surmounts them.

At first the education of Saint Cyr had been entrustedto canonesses; but a canoness only takes annual vows;that term expired, she is at liberty to retire andmarry. Several of these ladies having provedthus irresolute as to their estate, and the housebeing afraid that a greater number would follow, theAbbe de Fenelon, who cannot endure limited or temporarydevotion, thought fit to introduce fixed and perpetualvows into Saint Cyr, and that willynilly.

This elegant abbe says all that he means, and resolutelymeans all that he can say. By means of his lectures,a mixed and facile form of eloquence, which is hisglory, he easily proved to these poor canonesses thatstreams and rivers flow ever since the world began,and never think of suspending their current or abandoningtheir direction. He reminded them that the sun,which is always in its place and always active, neverdreams of abandoning its functions, either from inconstancyor caprice. He told them that wise kings arenever seized with the idea or temptation of abdicatingtheir crown, and that God, who serves them as a modeland example, is ceaselessly occupied, with relationto the world, in preserving, reanimating, and maintainingit. Starting from there, the ingenious man madethem confess that they ought to remain at their postand bind themselves to it by a perpetual vow.

The first effect of this fine oration having beena little dissipated, objections broke out. Oneyoung and lovely canoness dared to maintain the rightsof her freedom, even in the face of her most amiableenemy. Madame de Maintenon rushed to the succourof the Abbe of Saint Sulpice, and half by wheedling,half by tyranny, obtained the cloister and perpetualvows.

I must render this justice to the King; he never wouldpronounce or intervene in this pathetic struggle. His royal hand profited, no doubt, by a submissionwhich the Abbe de Fenelon imposed upon timidity, credulity,and obedience. The House of Saint Cyr profitedthereby; but the King only regretted a new religiousconvent, for, as a rule, he liked them not. How many times has he unburdened himself before meon the subject.

CHAPTER XLVII.

Final Rupture.—­Terrible Scene.—­Madamede Maintenon in the Brocaded Chair.

To-day, when time and reflection, and, perhaps, thatfund of contempt which is so useful, have finallyrevealed to me the insurmountable necessities of life,I can look with a certain amount of composure at the;injury which the King did me. I had at firstresolved to conclude, with the chapter which you havejust read, my narrative of the more or less importantthings which have passed or been unfolded before myeyes. For long I did not feel myself strong enoughto approach a narrative which might open up all myold wounds and make my blood boil again; but I finishedby considering that our monarch’s reign will

be necessarily the subject of a multitude of commentaries,journals, and memoirs. All these confidentialwritings will speak of me to the generations to be;some will paint me as one paints an object whom oneloves; others, as the object one detests. Thelatter, to render me more odious, will probably revilemy character, and, perhaps, represent me as a cowardlyand despairing mistress, who has descended even tosupplications!! It is my, part, therefore, toretrace with a firm and vigorous hand this importantepoch of my life, where my destiny, at once kind andcruel, reduced me to treat the greatest of all Kingsboth as my equal and as an inconstant friend, as atreacherous enemy, and as my inferior or subject. He had, at first, the intention of putting me todeath,—­of that I am persuaded,—­butsoon his natural gentleness got the better of his pride.He grasped the wounds in my heart from the deplorablecommotion of my face. If his former friend wasguilty in her speech, he was far more guilty by hisactions. Like an equitable judge he pardonedneither of us; he did not forgive himself and he darednot condemn me.

Since this sad time of desertion and sorrow, intowhich the new state of things had brought me, mm.de Mortemart, de Nevers, and de Vivonne had been gladto avoid me. They found my humour altered, andI admit that a woman who sulks, scolds, or complainsis not very attractive company.

One day the poor Marechal de Vivonne came to see me;he opened my shutters to call my attention to thebeauty of the sky, and, my health seeming to him atrifle poor, he suggested to me to embark at once inhis carriage and to go and dine at Clagny. Ihad no will left that day, so I accompanied my brother.

Being come to Clagny, the Marshal, having shut himselfup with me in his closet, said to me the words whichfollow:

“You know, my, sister, how all along you havebeen dear to me; the grief which is wearing you outdoes me almost as much harm as you. To-day Iwish to hurt you for your own good; and get you awayfrom this locality in spite of yourself. Kingsare not to be opposed as we oppose our equals; ourKing, whom you know by heart, has never suffered contradiction. He has had you asked, two or three times already,to leave his palace and to go and live on your estates. Why do you delay to satisfy him, and to withdrawfrom so many eyes which watch you with pity?”

“The King, I am very sure, would like to seeme away,” I replied to the Marshal, “buthe has never formally expressed himself, and it isuntrue that any such wish has been intimated or insinuatedto me.”

“What! you did not receive two letters lastyear, which invited you to make up your mind and retire!”

“I received two anonymous letters; nothing ismore true. Could those two letters have beensent to me by the King himself?”

“The Marquis de Chamarante wrote them to you,but beneath the eyes, and at the dictation, of hisMajesty.”

“All, God! What is it you tell me? What! the Marquis de Chamarante, whom I thoughtone of my friends, has lent himself to such an embassy!”

“The Marquis is a good man, a man of honour;and his essential duty is to please his sovereign,his master. Moreover, at the time when the letterswere sent you, time remained to you for deliberation. To-day, all time for delay has expired; you mustgo away of your own free will, or receive the affrontof a command, and a ‘lettre de cachet’in form.”

“A ‘lettre de cachet’ for me! forthe mother of the Duc du Maine and the Comte de Toulouse! We shall see that, my brother! We shall see!”

“There is nothing to see or do but to summonhere all your people, and leave to-morrow, eitherfor my chateau of Roissy, or for your palace at Petit-Bourg;things are pressing, and the day after to-morrow Iwill explain all without any secrecy.”

“Explain it to me at once, my brother, and Ipromise to satisfy you.”

“Do you give me your word?”

“I give it you, my good and dear friend, withpleasure. Inform me of what is in progress.”

“Madame de Maintenon, whom, having loved oncegreatly, you no longer love, had the kindness to haveme summoned to her this morning.”

“The kindness!”

“Do not interrupt me—­yes, the kindness. From the moment that she is in favour, all that comesfrom her requires consideration. She had me takeninto her small salon, and there she charged me to tellyou that she has always loved you, that she alwayswill; that your rupture with her has displeased theKing; that for a long time, and on a thousand occasions,she has excused you to his Majesty, but that thingsare now hopeless; that your retreat is required atall costs, and that it will be joined with an annualpension of six hundred thousand livres.”

“And you advise me—?” I said tomy brother.

“I advise you, I implore you, I conjure you,to accept these propositions which save everything.”

My course was clear to me on the instant. Wishingto be relieved of the importunities of the Marshal(a courtier, if ever there was one), I embraced himwith tears in my eyes. I assured him that, forthe honour of the family and out of complacence, Iaccepted his propositions. I begged him to takeme back to Versailles, where I had to gather togethermy money, jewels, and papers.

The Duc de Vivonne, well as he knew me, did not suspectmy trickery; he applied a score of kisses to my “prettylittle white hands,” and his postilions, givingfree play to their reins, speedily brought us backto the chateau.

All beaming with joy and satisfaction, he went toconvey his reply to Madame de Maintenon, who was probablyexpecting him. Twenty minutes hardly elapsed. The King himself entered my apartment.

He came towards me with a friendly air, and, hardlyremarking my agitation, which I was suppressing, hedared to address the following words to me:

“The shortest follies are the best, dear Marquise;you see things at last as they should be seen. Your determination, which the Marechal de Vivonnehas just informed me of, gives me inexpressible pleasure;you are going to take the step of a clever woman,and everybody will applaud you for it. It willbe eighteen years to-morrow since we took a fancy foreach other. We were then in that period of lifewhen one sees only that which flatters, and the satisfactionof the heart surpasses everything. Our attachment,if it had been right and legitimate, might have begunwith the same ardour, but it could not have enduredso long; that is the property of all contested affections.

“From our union amiable children have been born,for whom I have done, and will do, all that a fatherwith good intentions can do. The Act which acknowledgedthem in full Parliament has not named you as theirmother, because your bonds prevented it, but theserespectful children know that they owe you their existence,and not one of them shall forget it while I live.

“You have charmed by your wit and the livelinessof your character the busiest years of my life andreign. That pleasant memory will never leaveme, and separated though we be, as good sense and proprietyof every kind demands, we shall still belong to eachother in thought. Athenais will always be tome the mother of my, dear children. I have beenmindful up to this day, to increase at different momentsthe amount of your fortune: I believe it to beconsiderable, and wish, nevertheless, to add to iteven more. If the pension that Vivonne had justsuggested to you appear insufficient, two lines fromyour pen will notify me that I must increase it.

“Your children being proclaimed Princes of France,the Court will be their customary residence, but youwill see them frequently, and can count on my commands. Here they are coming,—­not to say good-byeto you, but, as of old, to embrace you on the eveof a journey.

“If you are prudent, you will write first tothe Marquis de Montespan, not to annul and revokethe judicial and legal separation which exists, butto inform him of your return to reasonable ideas, andof your resolve to be reconciled with the public.”

With these words the King ceased speaking. Ilooked at him with a fixed gaze; a long sigh escapedfrom my heaving breast, and I had with him, as nearlyas I can remember, the following conversation:

“I admire the sang-froid with which a princewho believes himself, and is believed by the wholeuniverse, to be magnanimous, gives the word of dismissalto the tender friend of his youth,—­to thatfriend who, by a misfortune which is too well known,knew how to leave all and love him alone.

“From the day when the friendship which hadunited us cooled and was dissipated, you have resumedwith regard to me that distance which your rank authorisesyou, and on my side, I have submitted to see in youonly my King. This revolution has taken effectwithout any shock, or noise, or scandal. Ithas continued for two years already; why should itnot continue in the same manner until the moment whenmy last two children no longer require my eyes, andpresence, and care? What sudden cause, whaturgent motive, can determine you to exclude me? Does not, then, the humiliation which I have sufferedfor two years any longer satisfy your aversion?”

“What!” cried the prince, in consternation,“is your resolution no longer the same? Do you go back upon what you promised to your brother?”

“I do not change my resolution,” I resumedat once; “the places which you inhabit haveneither charm nor attraction for my heart, which hasalways detested treachery and falseness. I consentto withdraw myself from your person, but on conditionthat the odious intriguer who has supplanted me shallfollow the unhappy benefactress who once opened toher the doors of this palace. I took her froma state of misery, and she plunges daggers into mybreast.”

“The Kings of Europe,” said the prince,white with agitation and anger, “have not yetlaid down the law to me in my palace; you shall notmake me submit to yours, madame. The personwhom, for far too long, you have been offending andhumiliating before my eyes, has ancestors who yieldin nothing to your forefathers, and if you have introducedher to this palace, you have introduced here goodness,sweetness, talent, and virtue itself. This enemy,whom you defame in every quarter, and who every dayexcuses and justifies you, will abide near this throne,which her fathers have defended and which her goodcounsel now defends. In sending you today froma Court where your presence is without motive and pretext,I wished to keep from your knowledge, and in kindnesswithdraw from your eyes an event likely to irritateyou, since everything irritates you. Stay, madame,stay, since great catastrophes appeal to and amuseyou; after to-morrow you will be more than ever asupernumerary in this chateau.”

At these words I realised that it was a question ofthe public triumph of my rival. All my firmnessvanished; my heart was, as it were, distorted withthe most rapid palpitations. I felt an icy coldnessrun through my veins, and I fell unconscious uponmy carpet.

My woman cameo to bring me help, and when my sensesreturned, I heard the King saying to my intendant:“All this wearies me beyond endurance; she mustgo this very day.”

“Yes, I will go,” I cried, seizing a dessert-knifewhich was on my bureau. I rushed forward witha mechanical movement upon my little Comte de Toulouse,whom I snatched from the hands of his father, and Iwas on the verge of sacrificing this child.

I shudder every time I think of that terrible anddesperate scene. But reason had left me; sorrowfilled my soul; I was no longer myself. My readermust be penetrated by my misfortune and have compassionon me.

Madame de Maintenon, informed probably of this storm,arrived and suddenly showed herself. To rushforward, snatch away the dagger and my child was butone movement for her. Her tears coursed in abundance;and the King, leaning on the marble of my chimney-piece,shed tears and seemed to feel a sort of suffocation.

My women had removed my children. My intendantalone had remained in the deep embrasure of a shutter;the poor man had affliction and terror painted onhis face. Madame de Maintenon had slightly woundedherself in seizing my knife. I saw her tearingher handkerchief, putting on lavender water in orderto moisten the bandage. As she left me she tookmy hand with an air of kindness, and her tears beganagain.

The King, seeing her go out, retired without addressingme a word. I might call as much as I would;he did not return.

Until nightfall I seemed to be in a state of paralysis. My arms were like lead; my will could no longer stirthem. I was distressed at first, and then Ithanked God, who was delivering me from the tormentsof existence. All night my body and soul movedin the torrent and waves of a fever handed over tophantoms; I saw in turn the smiling plains of Paradiseand the dire domain of Hell. My children, coveredwith wounds, asked me for pardon, kneeling beforeme; and Madame de Maintenon, one mass of blood, reproachedme for having killed her.

On the following day a copious blood-letting, prescribedby my doctor, relieved my head and heart.

The following week Madame de Maintenon, entirely curedof her scratch, consented to the King’s will,which she had opposed in order to excite it, and inthe presence of the Marquis and Marquise de Montchevreuil,the Duc de Noailles, the Marquis de Chamarante, M.Bontems, and Mademoiselle Ninon, her permanent chambermaid,was married to the King of France and Navarre in thechapel of the chateau.

The Abbe de Harlay, Archbishop of Paris, assistedby the Bishop of Chartres and Pere de la Chaise, hadthe honour of blessing this marriage and presentingthe rings of gold. After the ceremony, whichtook place at an early hour, and even by torchlight,there was a slight repast in the small apartments. The same persons, taking carriages, then repairedto Maintenon, where the great ceremony, the mass, andall that is customary in such cases were celebrated.

At her return, Madame de Maintenon took possessionof an extremely sumptuous apartment that had beencarefully arranged and furnished for her. Herpeople continued to wear her livery, but she scarcelyever rode any more except in the great carriage ofthe King, where we saw her in the place which hadbeen occupied by the Queen. In her interior thetitle of Majesty was given her; and the King, whenhe had to speak of her, only used the word Madame,without adding Maintenon, that having become too familiarand trivial.

He was desirous of proclaiming her; she consistentlyopposed it, and this prudent and wise conduct regainedfor her, little by little, the opinions which hadbeen shocked.

A few days after the marriage, my health being somewhatreestablished, I went to Petit-Bourg; but the Marechalde Vivonne, his son Louis de Vivonne, all the Mortemarts,all the Rochehouarts, Thianges, Damas, Seignelays,Blainvilles, and Colberts,—­in a word, counts,marquises, barons, prelates, and duch*esses, came tofind me and attack me in my desert, in order to representto me that, since Madame de Maintenon was the wifeof the monarch, I owed her my homage and respectfulcompliments. The whole family has done so, saidthese cruel relations; you only have not yet fulfilledthis duty. You must do it, in God’s name. She has neither airs nor hauteur; you will be marvellouslywell received. Your resistance would compromiseus all.

Not desiring to harm or displease my family, and wishing,above all, to reinstate myself somewhat in the King’smind, I resolutely prepared for this distressing journey,and God gave me the necessary strength to executeit.

I appeared in a long robe of gold and silver beforethe new spouse of the monarch. The King, whowas sitting at a table, rose for a moment and encouragedme by his greeting. I made the three pauses andthree reverences as I gradually approached Madamede Maintenon, who occupied a large and rich armchairof brocade. She did not rise; etiquette forbadeit, and principally the presence of the all-powerfulKing of kings. Her complexion, ordinarily pale,and with a very slight tone of pink, was animatedsuddenly, and took all the colours of the rose. She made me a sign to seat myself on a stool, andit seemed to me that her amiable gaze apologised tome. She spoke to me of Petit-Bourg, of the watersof Bourbon, of her country-place, of my children,and said to me, smiling kindly: “I am goingto confide in you. Monsieur le Prince has alreadyasked Mademoiselle de Names for his grandson, M. leDuc de Bourbon, and his Highness promises us his granddaughterfor our Duc du Maine. Two or three years more,and we shall see all that.”

After half an hour spent thus, I rose from this uncomfortablestool and made my farewell reverences. Madamede Maintenon, profiting by the King having leanedover to write, rose five or six inches in her chair,and said to me these words: “Do not letus cease to love one another, I implore you.”

I went to rest myself in the poor apartment whichwas still mine, since the keys had not yet been returned,and I sent for M. le Duc du Maine, who said to mecoldly: “I have much pleasure in seeingyou again; we were going to write to you.”

I had come out from Madame de Maintenon by the doorof mirrors, which leads to the great gallery. There was much company there at the moment; M. lePrince de Salm came to me and said: “Goand put on your peignoir; you are flushed, and I canperfectly well understand why.” He pressedmy hand affectionately. In all the salons theywere eager to see me pass. Some courageous personscame even within touch of my fan; and all were moreor less pleased with my mishap and downfall. I had seen all these figures at my feet, and almostall were under obligations to me. I left Versaillesagain very early. When I was seated in my carriageI noticed the King, who, from the height of his balconyin the court of marble, watched me set off and disappear.

I settled at Paris, where my personal interest andmy great fortune gave me an existence which many mighthave envied. I never returned to Versailles,except for the weddings of my eldest daughter, andof my son, the Serious;—­[Louis Augustsde Bourbon, Duc du Maine, a good man, somewhat devoutand melancholy. (See the Memoirs of Dubois and Richelieu.)—­Editor’snote.]—­I always loved him better thanhe did me.

Pere de Latour, my director, obtained from me then,what I had refused hitherto to everybody, a letterof reconciliation to M. le Marquis de Montespan:I had foreseen the reply, which was that of an obstinate,ill-bred, and evil man.

Pere de Latour, going further, wished to impose hard,not to say murderous, penances on me; I begged himto keep within bounds, and not to make me impatient. This Oratorian and his admirers have stated that Iwore a hair shirt and shroud. Pious slanders,every word of them! I give many pensions andalms, that is to say, I do good to several families;the good that I bestow about me will be more agreeableto God than any harm I could do myself, and that Imaintain.

The Marquis d’Antin, my son, since my disgrace.......

Here end the memoirs of madamede Montespan.

THE ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS:

All the death-in-life of a convent
Always sold at a loss which must be sold at a givenmoment
Ambition puts a thick bandage over the eyes
And then he would go off, laughing in his sleeve
Armed with beauty and sarcasm
Cannot reconcile themselves to what exists
Conduct of the sort which cements and revives attachments
Console me on the morrow for what had troubled meto-day
Cuddlings and caresses of decrepitude
Depicting other figures she really portrays her own
Domestics included two nurses, a waiting-maid, a physician
Extravagant, without the means to be so
Grow like a dilapidated house; I am only here to repairmyself
Happy with him as a woman who takes her husband’splace can be
Hate me, but fear me
He contradicted me about trifles

He was not fool enough for his place
I myself being the first to make merry at it (my plainness)
In the great world, a vague promise is the same asa refusal
In Rome justice and religion always rank second topolitics
In ill-assorted unions, good sense or good naturemust intervene
In England a man is the absolute proprietor of hiswife
Intimacy, once broken, cannot be renewed
It is easier to offend me than to deceive me
Jealous without motive, and almost without love
Kings only desire to be obeyed when they command
Knew how to point the Bastille cannon at the troopsof the King
Laws will only be as so many black lines on whitepaper
Love-affair between Mademoiselle de la Valliere andthe King
Madame de Sevigne
Madame de Montespan had died of an attack of coquetry
Not show it off was as if one only possessed a kennel
Permissible neither to applaud nor to hiss
Poetry without rhapsody
Present princes and let those be scandalised who will!
Respectful without servility
Satire without bitterness
Says all that he means, and resolutely means all thathe can say
She awaits your replies without interruption
Situations in life where we are condemned to see evildone
Talent without artifice
That Which Often It is Best to Ignore
The King replied that “too much was too much”
The monarch suddenly enough rejuvenated his attire
The pulpit is in want of comedians; they work wondersthere
Then comes discouragement; after that, habit
There is an exaggeration in your sorrow
These liars in surplice, in black cassock, or in purple
Time, the irresistible healer
Trust not in kings
Violent passion had changed to mere friendship
Weeping just as if princes had not got to die likeanybody else
Went so far as to shed tears, his most difficult featof all
What they need is abstinence, prohibitions, thwartings
When women rule their reign is always stormy and troublous
When one has seen him, everything is excusable
When one has been pretty, one imagines that one isstill so
Wife: property or of furniture, useful to hishouse
Wish you had the generosity to show, now and again,less wit
Women who misconduct themselves are pitiless and severe
Won for himself a great name and great wealth by words
Would you like to be a cardinal? I can managethat
You know, madame, that he generally gets everythinghe wants