Book: The Memoirs of Louis XIV., His Court and The Regency, Complete

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Before quitting this theme, I will relate an anecdote which has found
belief. It has been said, that when M. de La Trappe was the Abbe de
Rance he was much in love with the beautiful Madame de Montbazon, and
that he was well treated by her. On one occasion after leaving her, in
perfect health, in order to go into the country, he learnt that she had
fallen ill. He hastened back, entered hurriedly into her chamber, and
the first sight he saw there was her head, that the surgeons, in opening
her, had separated from her body. It was the first intimation he had had
that she was dead, and the surprise and horror of the sight so converted
him that immediately afterwards he retired from the world. There is
nothing true in all this except the foundation upon which the fiction
arose. I have frankly asked M. de La Trappe upon this matter, and from
him I have learned that he was one of the friends of Madame de Montbazon,
but that so far from being ignorant of the time of her death, he was by
her side at the time, administered the sacrament to her, and had never
quitted her during the few days she was ill. The truth is, her sudden
death so touched him, that it made him carry out his intention of
retiring from the world--an intention, however, he had formed for many
years.

The affair of M. de Cambrai was not finally settled until the
commencement of the following year, 1699, but went on making more noise
day by day. At the date I have named the verdict from Rome arrived
Twenty-three propositions of the 'Maximes des Saints' were declared rash,
dangerous, erroneous--'in globo'--and the Pope excommunicated those who
read the book or kept it in their houses. The King was much pleased with
this condemnation, and openly expressed his satisfaction. Madame de
Maintenon appeared at the summit of joy. As for M. de Cambrai, he learnt
his fate in a moment which would have overwhelmed a man with less
resources in himself. He was on the point of mounting into the pulpit:
he was by no means troubled; put aside the sermon he had prepared, and,
without delaying a moment, took for subject the submission due to the
Church; he treated this theme in a powerful and touching manner;
announced the condemnation of his book; retracted the opinions he had
professed; and concluded his sermon by a perfect acquiescence and
submission to the judgment the Pope had just pronounced. Two days
afterwards he published his retraction, condemned his book, prohibited
the reading of it, acquiesced and submitted himself anew to his
condemnation, and in the clearest terms took away from himself all means
of returning to his opinions. A submission so prompt, so clear, so
perfect, was generally admired, although there were not wanting censors
who wished he had shown less readiness in giving way. His friends
believed the submission would be so flattering to the Pope, that M. de
Cambrai might rely upon advancement to a cardinalship, and steps were
taken, but without any good result, to bring about that event.




CHAPTER XIII

About this time the King caused Charnace to be arrested in a province to
which he had been banished. He was accused of many wicked things, and;
amongst others, of coining. Charnace was a lad of spirit, who had been
page to the King and officer in the body-guard. Having retired to his
own house, he often played off many a prank. One of these I will
mention, as being full of wit and very laughable.

He had a very long and perfectly beautiful avenue before his house in
Anjou, but in the midst of it were the cottage and garden of a peasant;
and neither Charnace, nor his father before him, could prevail upon him
to remove, although they offered him large sums. Charnace at last
determined to gain his point by stratagem. The peasant was a tailor,
and lived all alone, without wife or child. One day Charnace sent for
him, said he wanted a Court suit in all haste, and, agreeing to lodge and
feed him, stipulated that he should not leave the house until it was
done. The tailor agreed, and set himself to the work. While he was thus
occupied, Charnace had the dimensions of his house and garden taken with
the utmost exactitude; made a plan of the interior, showing the precise
position of the furniture and the utensils; and, when all was done,
pulled down the house and removed it a short distance off.

Then it was arranged as before with a similar looking garden, and at the
same time the spot on which it had previously stood was smoothed and
levelled. All this was done before the suit was finished. The work
being at length over on both sides, Charnace amused the tailor until it
was quite dark, paid him, and dismissed him content. The man went on his
way down the avenue; but, finding the distance longer than usual, looked
about, and perceived he had gone too far. Returning, he searched
diligently for his house, but without being able to find it. The night
passed in this exercise. When the day came, he rubbed his eyes, thinking
they might have been in fault; but as he found them as clear as usual,
began to believe that the devil had carried away his house, garden and
all. By dint of wandering to and fro, and casting his eyes in every
direction, he saw at last a house which was as like to his as are two
drops of water to each other. Curiosity tempted him to go and examine
it. He did so, and became convinced it was his own. He entered, found
everything inside as he had left it, and then became quite persuaded he
had been tricked by a sorcerer. The day was not, however, very far
advanced before he learned the truth through the banter of his
neighbours. In fury he talked of going to law, or demanding justice, but
was laughed at everywhere. The King when he heard of it laughed also;
and Charnace had his avenue free. If he had never done anything worse
than this, he would have preserved his reputation and his liberty.

A strange scene happened at Meudon after supper one evening, towards the
end of July. The Prince de Conti and the Grand Prieur were playing, and
a dispute arose respecting the game. The Grand Prieur, inflated by pride
on account of the favours the King had showered upon him, and rendered
audacious by being placed almost on a level with the Princes of the
blood, used words which would have been too strong even towards an equal.
The Prince de Conti answered by a repartee, in which the other's honesty
at play and his courage in war--both, in truth, little to boast about--
were attacked. Upon this the Grand Prieur flew into a passion, flung
away the cards, and demanded satisfaction, sword in hand. The Prince de
Conti, with a smile of contempt, reminded him that he was wanting in
respect, and at the same time said he could have the satisfaction he
asked for whenever he pleased. The arrival of Monseigneur, in his
dressing-gown, put an end to the fray. He ordered the Marquis de
Gesvres, who was one of the courtiers present, to report the whole affair
to the King, and that every one should go to bed. On the morrow the King
was informed of what had taken place, and immediately ordered the Grand
Prieur to go to the Bastille. He was obliged to obey, and remained in
confinement several days. The affair made a great stir at Court. The
Princes of the blood took a very high tone, and the illegitimates were
much embarrassed. At last, on the 7th of August, the affair was finally
accommodated through the intercession of Monseigneur. The Grand Prieur
demanded pardon of the Prince de Conti in the presence of his brother, M.
de Vendome, who was obliged to swallow this bitter draught, although
against his will, in order to appease the Princes of the blood, who were
extremely excited.

Nearly at the same time, that is to say, on the 29th of May, in the
morning Madame de Saint-Simon was happily delivered of a child. God did
us the grace to give us a son. He bore, as I had, the name of Vidame of
Chartres. I do not know why people have the fancy for these odd names,
but they seduce in all nations, and they who feel the triviality of them,
imitate them. It is true that the titles of Count and Marquis have
fallen into the dust because of the quantity of people without wealth,
and even without land, who usurp them; and that they have become so
worthless, that people of quality who are Marquises or Counts (if they
will permit me to say it) are silly enough to be annoyed if those titles
are given to them in conversation. It is certain, however, that these
titles emanated from landed creations, and that in their origin they had
functions attached to them, which, they have since outlived. The
vidames, on the contrary, were only principal officers of certain
bishops, with authority to lead all the rest of their seigneurs' vassals
to the field, either to fight against other lords, or in the armies that
our kings used to assemble to combat their enemies before the creation of
a standing army put an end to the employment of vassals (there being no
further need for them), and to all the power and authority of the
seigneurs. There is thus no comparison between the title of vidame,
which only marks a vassal, and the titles which by fief emanate from the
King. Yet because the few Vidames who have been known were illustrious,
the name has appeared grand, and for this reason was given to me, and
afterwards by me to my son:

Some little time before this, the King resolved to show all Europe, which
believed his resources exhausted by a long war, that in the midst of
profound peace, he was as fully prepared as ever for arms. He wished at
the same time, to present a superb spectacle to Madame de Maintenon,
under pretext of teaching the young Duc de Bourgogne his first lesson in
war. He gave all the necessary orders, therefore, for forming a camp at
Compiegne, to be commanded by the Marechal de Boufflers under the young
Duke. On Thursday, the 28th of August, all the Court set out for the
camp. Sixty thousand men were assembled there. The King, as at the
marriage of the Duc de Bourgogne, had announced that he counted upon
seeing the troops look their best. The consequence of this was to excite
the army to an emulation that was repented of afterwards. Not only were
the troops in such beautiful order that it was impossible to give the
palm to any one corps, but their commanders added the finery and
magnificence of the Court to the majestic and warlike beauty of the men,
of the arms, and of the horses; and the officers exhausted their means in
uniforms which would have graced a fete.

Colonels, and even simple captains, kept open table; but the Marechal de
Boufflers outstripped everybody by his expenditure, by his magnificence,
and his good taste. Never was seen a spectacle so transcendent--so
dazzling--and (it must be said) so terrifying. At all hours, day or
night, the Marechal's table was open to every comer--whether officer,
courtier, or spectator. All were welcomed and invited, with the utmost
civility and attention, to partake of the good things provided. There
was every kind of hot and cold liquors; everything which can be the most
widely and the most splendidly comprehended under the term refreshment:
French and foreign wines, and the rarest liqueurs in the utmost
abundance. Measures were so well taken that quantities of game and
venison arrived from all sides; and the seas of Normandy, of Holland, of
England, of Brittany, even the Mediterranean, furnished all they
contained--the most unheard-of, extraordinary, and most exquisite--at a
given day and hour with inimitable order, and by a prodigious number of
horsemen and little express carriages. Even the water was fetched from
Sainte Reine, from the Seine, and from sources the most esteemed; and it
is impossible to imagine anything of any kind which was not at once ready
for the obscurest as for the most distinguished visitor, the guest most
expected, and the guest not expected at all. Wooden houses and
magnificent tents stretched all around, in number sufficient to form a
camp of themselves, and were furnished in the most superb manner, like
the houses in Paris. Kitchens and rooms for every purpose were there,
and the whole was marked by an order and cleanliness that excited
surprise and admiration. The King, wishing that the magnificence of this
camp should be seen by the ambassadors, invited them there, and prepared
lodgings for them. But the ambassadors claimed a silly distinction,
which the King would not grant, and they refused his invitation. This
distinction I call silly because it brings no advantage with it of any
kind. I am ignorant of its origin, but this is what it consists in.
When, as upon such an occasion as this, lodgings are allotted to the
Court, the quartermaster writes in chalk, "for Monsieur Such-a-one," upon
those intended for Princes of the blood, cardinals, and foreign princes;
but for none other. The King would not allow the "for" to be written
upon the lodgings of the ambassadors; and the ambassadors, therefore,
kept away. The King was much piqued at this, and I heard him say at
supper, that if he treated them as they deserved, he should only allow
them to come to Court at audience times, as was the custom everywhere
else.

The King arrived at the camp on Saturday, the 30th of August, and went
with the Duc and Duchesse de Bourgogne and others to the quarters of
Marechal de Boufflers, where a magnificent collation was served up to
them--so magnificent that when the King returned, he said it would be
useless for the Duc de Bourgogne to attempt anything so splendid; and
that whenever he went to the camp he ought to dine with Marechal de
Bouffiers. In effect, the King himself soon after dined there, and led
to the Marechal's table the King of England, who was passing three or
four days in the camp.

On these occasions the King pressed Marechal de Boufflers to be seated.
He would never comply, but waited upon the King while the Duc de
Grammont, his brother-in-law, waited upon Monseigneur.

The King amused himself much in pointing out the disposition of the
troops to the ladies of the Court, and in the evening showed them a grand
review.

A very pleasant adventure happened at this review to Count Tesse, colonel
of dragoons. Two days previously M. de Lauzun, in the course of chit-
chat, asked him how he intended to dress at the review; and persuaded him
that, it being the custom, he must appear at the head of his troops in a
grey hat, or that he would assuredly displease the King. Tesse, grateful
for this information, and ashamed of his ignorance, thanked M. de Lauzun,
and sent off for a hat in all haste to Paris. The King, as M. de Lauzun
well knew, had an aversion to grey, and nobody had worn it for several
years. When, therefore, on the day of the review he saw Tesse in a hat
of that colour, with a black feather, and a huge cockade dangling and
flaunting above, he called to him, and asked him why he wore it. Tesse
replied that it was the privilege of the colonel-general to wear that day
a grey hat. "A grey hat," replied the King; "where the devil did you
learn that?"

"From M. de, Lauzun, Sire, for whom you created the charge," said Tesse,
all embarrassment. On the instant, the good Lauzun vanished, bursting
with laughter, and the King assured Tesse that M. de Lauzun had merely
been joking with him. I never saw a man so confounded as Tesse at this.
He remained with downcast eyes, looking at his hat, with a sadness and
confusion that rendered the scene perfect. He was obliged to treat the
matter as a joke, but was for a long time much tormented about it, and
much ashamed of it.

Nearly every day the Princes dined with Marechal de Boufflers, whose
splendour and abundance knew no end. Everybody who visited him, even the
humblest, was served with liberality and attention. All the villages and
farms for four leagues round Compiegne were filled with people, French,
and foreigners, yet there was no disorder. The gentlemen and valets at
the Marechal's quarters were of themselves quite a world, each more
polite than his neighbour, and all incessantly engaged from five o'clock
in the morning until ten and eleven o'clock at night, doing the honours
to various guests. I return in spite of myself to the Marechal's
liberality; because, who ever saw it, cannot forget, or ever cease to be
in a state of astonishment and admiration at its abundance and
sumptuousness, or at the order, never deranged for a moment at a single
point, that prevailed.

The King wished to show the Court all the manoeuvres of war; the siege of
Compiegne was therefore undertaken, according to due form, with lines,
trenches, batteries, mines, &c. On Saturday, the 13th of September, the
assault took place. To witness it, the King, Madame de Maintenon, all
the ladies of the Court, and a number of gentlemen, stationed themselves
upon an old rampart, from which the plain and all the disposition of the
troops could be seen. I was in the half circle very close to the King.
It was the most beautiful sight that can be imagined, to see all that
army, and the prodigious number of spectators on horse and foot, and that
game of attack and defence so cleverly conducted.

But a spectacle of another sort, that I could paint forty years hence as
well as to-day, so strongly did it strike me, was that which from the
summit of this rampart the King gave to all his army, and to the
innumerable crowd of spectators of all kinds in the plain below. Madame
de Maintenon faced the plain and the troops in her sedan-chair-alone,
between its three windows drawn up-her porters having retired to a
distance. On the left pole in front sat Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne;
and on the same side in a semicircle, standing, were Madame la Duchesse,
Madame la Princesse de Conti, and all the ladies, and behind them again,
many men. At the right window was the King, standing, and a little in
the rear, a semicircle of the most distinguished men of the Court. The
King was nearly always uncovered; and every now and then stooped to speak
to Madame de Maintenon, and explain to her what she saw, and the reason
of each movement. Each time that he did so she was obliging enough to
open the window four or five inches, but never half way; for I noticed
particularly, and I admit that I was more attentive to this spectacle
than to that of the troops. Sometimes she opened of her own accord to
ask some question of him, but generally it was he who, without waiting
for her, stooped down to instruct her of what was passing; and sometimes,
if she did not notice him, he tapped at the glass to make her open it.
He never spoke, save to her, except when he gave a few brief orders, or
just answered Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne, who wanted to make him
speak, and with whom Madame de Maintenon carried on a conversation by
signs, without opening the front window, through which the young Princess
screamed to her from time to time. I watched the countenance of every
one carefully; all expressed surprise tempered with prudence and shame,
that was, as it were, ashamed of itself: every one behind the chair and
in the semicircle watched this scene more than what was going on in the
army. The King often put his hat on the top of the chair in order to get
his head in to speak; and this continual exercise tired his loins very
much. Monseigneur was on horseback in the plain with the young Princes.
It was about five o'clock in the afternoon, and the weather was as
brilliant as could be desired.

Opposite the sedan-chair was an opening with some steps cut through the
wall, and communicating with the plain below. It had been made for the
purpose of fetching orders from the King, should they be necessary. The
case happened. Crenan, who commanded, sent Conillac, an officer in one
of the defending regiments, to ask for some instructions from the King.
Conillac had been stationed at the foot of the rampart, where what was
passing above could not be seen. He mounted the steps; and as soon as
his head and shoulders were at the top, caught sight of the chair, the
King, and all the assembled company. He was not prepared for such a
scene, and it struck him with such astonishment, that he stopped short,
with mouth and eyes wide open-surprise painted upon every feature. I see
him now as distinctly as I did then. The King, as well as all the rest
of the company, remarked the agitation of Conillac, and said to him with
emotion, "Well, Conillac! come up." Conillac remained motionless, and
the King continued, "Come up. What is the matter?" Conillac, thus
addressed, finished his ascent, and came towards the King with slow and
trembling steps, rolling his eyes from right to left like one deranged.
Then he stammered something, but in a tone so low that it could not be
heard. "What do you say?" cried the King. "Speak up." But Conillac was
unable; and the King, finding he could get nothing out of him, told him
to go away. He did not need to be told twice, but disappeared at once.
As soon as he was gone, the King, looking round, said, "I don't know what
is the matter with Conillac. He has lost his wits; he did not remember
what he had to say to me." No one answered.

Towards the moment of the capitulation, Madame de Maintenon apparently
asked permission to go away, for the King cried, "The chairmen of
Madame!" They came and took her away; in less than a quarter of an hour
afterwards the King retired also, and nearly everybody else. There was
much interchange of glances, nudging with elbows, and then whisperings in
the ear. Everybody was full of what had taken place on the ramparts
between the King and Madame de Maintenon. Even the soldiers asked what
meant that sedan-chair and the King every moment stooping to put his head
inside of it. It became necessary gently to silence these questions of
the troops. What effect this sight had upon foreigners present, and what
they said of it, may be imagined. All over Europe it was as much talked
of as the camp of Compiegne itself, with all its pomp and prodigious
splendour.

The last act of this great drama was a sham fight. The execution was
perfect; but the commander, Rose, who was supposed to be beaten, would
not yield. Marechal de Boufflers sent and told him more than once that
it was time. Rose flew into a passion, and would not obey. The King
laughed much at this, and said, "Rose does not like to be beaten." At
last he himself sent the order for retreat. Rose was forced then to
comply; but he did it with a very bad grace, and abused the bearer of the
order.

The King left the camp on Monday the 22d of September, much pleased with
the troops. He gave, in parting, six hundred francs to each cavalry
captain, and three hundred francs to each captain of infantry. He gave
as much to the majors of all the regiments, and distributed some favours
to his household. To Marechal de Boufflers he presented one hundred
thousand francs. All these gifts together amounted to something: but
separately were as mere drops of water. There was not a single regiment
that was not ruined, officers and men, for several years. As for
Marechal de Boufflers, I leave it to be imagined what a hundred thousand
francs were to him whose magnificence astounded all Europe, described as
it was by foreigners who were witnesses of it, and who day after day
could scarcely believe their own eyes.




CHAPTER XIV

Here I will relate an adventure, which shows that, however wise and
enlightened a man may be, he is never infallible. M. de La Trappe had
selected from amongst his brethren one who was to be his successor. The
name of this monk was D. Francois Gervaise. He had been in the monastery
for some years, had lived regularly during that time, and had gained the
confidence of M. de La Trappe. As soon, however, as he received this
appointment, his manners began to change. He acted as though he were
already master, brought disorder and ill-feeling into the monastery, and
sorely grieved M. de La Trapp; who, however, looked upon this affliction
as the work of Heaven, and meekly resigned him self to it. At last,
Francois Gervaise was by the merest chance detected openly, under
circumstances which blasted his character for ever. His companion in
guilt was brought before M. de La Trappe, to leave no doubt upon the
matter. D. Francois Gervaise, utterly prostrated, resigned his office,
and left La Trappe. Yet, even after this, he had the hardihood to show
himself in the world, and to try and work himself into the favour of Pere
la Chaise. A discovery that was made, effectually stopped short his
hopes in this direction. A letter of his was found, written to a nun
with whom he had been intimate, whom he loved, and by whom he was
passionately loved. It was a tissue of filthiness and stark indecency,
enough to make the most abandoned tremble. The pleasures, the regrets,
the desires, the hopes of this precious pair, were all expressed in the
boldest language, and with the utmost licence. I believe that so many
abominations are not uttered in several days, even in the worst places.
For this offence Gervaise might have been confined in a dungeon all his
life, but he was allowed to go at large. He wandered from monastery to
monastery for five or six years, and always caused so much disorder
wherever he stopped, that at last the superiors thought it best to let
him live as he liked in a curacy of his brother's. He never ceased
troubling La Trappe, to which he wished to return; so that at last I
obtained a 'lettre de cachet', which prohibited him from approaching
within thirty leagues of the abbey, and within twenty of Paris. It was I
who made known to him that his abominations had been discovered. He was
in no way disturbed, declared he was glad to be free, and assured me with
the hypocrisy which never left him, that in his solitude he was going to
occupy himself in studying the Holy Scriptures.

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