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M. de Mantua was charmed; he redoubled his efforts with the King and M.
de Duras; the matter was discussed in full council, like an affair of
state--indeed it was one; and it was resolved to amuse M. de Mantua, and
yet at the same time to do everything to vanquish this resistance of
Madame de Lesdiguieres, except employing the full authority of the King,
which the King himself did not wish to exert. Everything was promised to
her on the part of the King: that it should be his Majesty who would make
the stipulations of the marriage contract; that it should be his Majesty
who would give her a dowry, and would guarantee her return to France if
she became a widow, and assure her his protection while she remained a
wife; in one word, everything was tried, and in the gentlest and most
honourable manner, to persuade her. Her mother lent us her house one
afternoon, in order that we might speak more at length and more at our
ease there to Madame de Lesdiguieres than we could at the Hotel de Duras.
We only gained a torrent of tears for our pains.

A few days after this, I was very much astonished to hear Chamillart
relate to me all that had passed at this interview. I learnt afterwards
that Madame de Lesdiguieres, fearing that if, entirely unsupported, she
persisted in her refusal, it might draw upon her the anger of the King,
had begged Chamillart to implore his Majesty not to insist upon this
marriage. M. de Mantua hearing this, turned his thoughts elsewhere; and
she was at last delivered of a pursuit which had become a painful
persecution to her. Chamillart served her so well that the affair came
to an end; and the King, flattered perhaps by the desire this young
Duchess showed to remain his subject instead of becoming a sovereign,
passed a eulogium upon her the same evening in his cabinet to his family
and to the Princesses, by whom it was spread abroad through society.

I may as well finish this matter at once. The Lorraines, who had watched
very closely the affair up to this point, took hope again directly they
heard of the resolution M. de Mantua had formed to abandon his pursuit of
Madame de Lesdiguieres. They, in their turn, were closely watched by
M. le Prince, who so excited the King against them, that Madame d'Elboeuf
received orders from him not to continue pressing her suit upon M. de
Mantua. That did not stop them. They felt that the King would not
interfere with them by an express prohibition, and sure, by past
experience, of being on better terms with him afterwards than before,
they pursued their object with obstinacy. By dint of much plotting and
scheming, and by the aid of their creatures, they contrived to overcome
the repugnance of M. de Mantua to Mademoiselle d'Elboeuf, which at bottom
could be only caprice--her beauty, her figure, and her birth taken into
account. But Mademoiselle d'Elboeuf, in her turn, was as opposed to
marriage with M. de Mantua as Madame de Lesdiguieres had been. She was,
however, brought round ere long, and then the consent of the King was the
only thing left to be obtained. The Lorraines made use of their usual
suppleness in order to gain that. They represented the impolicy of
interfering with the selection of a sovereign who was the ally of France,
and who wished to select a wife from among her subjects, and succeeded so
well, that the King determined to become neutral; that is to say, neither
to prohibit nor to sanction this match. M. le Prince was instrumental in
inducing the King to take this neutral position; and he furthermore
caused the stipulation to be made, that it should not be celebrated in
France, but at Mantua.

After parting with the King, M. de Mantua, on the 21st of September, went
to Nemours, slept there, and then set out for Italy. At the same time
Madame and Mademoiselle d'Elboeuf, with Madame de Pompadour, sister of
the former, passed through Fontainebleau without going to see a soul, and
followed their prey lest he should change his mind and escape them until
the road he was to take branched off from that they were to go by; he in
fact intending to travel by sea and they by land. On the way their fears
redoubled. Arrived at Nevers, and lodged in a hostelrie, they thought it
would not be well to commit themselves further without more certain
security: Madame de Pompadour therefore proposed to M. de Mantua not to
delay his happiness any longer, but to celebrate his marriage at once.
He defended himself as well as he could, but was at last obliged to give
in. During this indecent dispute, the Bishop was sent to. He had just
died, and the Grand Vicar, not knowing what might be the wishes of the
King upon this marriage, refused to celebrate it. The chaplain was
therefore appealed to, and he at once married Mademoiselle d'Elboeuf to
M. de Mantua in the hotel. As soon as the ceremony was over, Madame
d'Elboeuf wished to leave her daughter alone with M. de Mantua, and
although he strongly objected to this, everybody quitted the room,
leaving only the newly married couple there, and Madame de Pompadour
outside upon the step listening to what passed between them. But finding
after a while that both were very much embarrassed, and that M. de Mantua
did little but cry out for the company to return, she conferred with her
sister, and they agreed to give him his liberty. Immediately he had
obtained it, he mounted his horse, though it was not early, and did not
see them again until they reached Italy--though all went the same road as
far as Lyons. The news of this strange celebration of marriage was soon
spread abroad with all the ridicule which attached to it.

The King was very much annoyed when he learnt that his orders had been
thus disobeyed. The Lorraines plastered over the affair by representing
that they feared an affront from M. de Mantua, and indeed it did not seem
at all unlikely that M. de Mantua, forced as it were into compliance with
their wishes, might have liked nothing better than to reach Italy and
then laugh at them. Meanwhile, Madame d'Elboeuf and her daughter
embarked on board the royal galleys and started for Italy. On the way
they were fiercely chased by some African corsairs, and it is a great
pity they were not taken to finish the romance.

However, upon arriving in Italy, the marriage was again celebrated, this
time with all the forms necessary for the occasion. But Madame d'Elboeuf
had no cause to rejoice that she had succeeded in thus disposing of her
daughter. The new Duchesse de Mantua was guarded by her husband with the
utmost jealousy. She was not allowed to see anybody except her mother,
and that only for an hour each day. Her women entered her apartment only
to dress and undress her. The Duke walled up very high all the windows
of his house, and caused his wife to, be guarded by old women. She
passed her days thus in a cruel prison. This treatment, which I did not
expect, and the little consideration, not to say contempt, shown here for
M. de Mantua since his departure, consoled me much for the invincible
obstinacy of Madame de Lesdiguieres. Six months after, Madame d'Elboeuf
returned, beside herself with vexation, but too vain to show it. She
disguised the misfortune of her daughter, and appeared to be offended if
it was spoken of; but all our letters from the army showed that the news
was true. The strangest thing of all is, that the Lorraines after this
journey were as well treated by the King as if they had never undertaken
it; a fact which shows their art and ascendency.

I have dwelt too long perhaps upon this matter. It appeared to me to
merit attention by its singularity, and still more so because it is by
facts of this sort that is shown what was the composition of the Court of
the King.

About this time the Comtesse d'Auvergne finished a short life by an
illness very strange and uncommon. When she married the Comte d'Auvergne
she was a Huguenot, and he much wanted to make her turn Catholic.
A famous advocate of that time, who was named Chardon, had been a
Huguenot, and his wife also; they had made a semblance, however, of
abjuring, but made no open profession of Catholicism. Chardon was
sustained by his great reputation, and by the number of protectors he had
made for himself.

One morning he and his wife were in their coach before the Hotel-Dieu,
waiting for a reply that their lackey was a very long time in bringing
them. Madame Chardon glanced by chance upon the grand portal of Notre
Dame, and little by little fell into a profound reverie, which might be
better called reflection. Her husband, who at last perceived this, asked
her what had sent her into such deep thought, and pushed her elbow even
to draw a reply from her. She told him then what she was thinking about.
Pointing to Notre Dame, she said that it was many centuries before Luther
and Calvin that those images of saints had been sculptured over that
portal; that this proved that saints had long since been invoked; the
opposition of the reformers to this ancient opinion was a novelty; that
this novelty rendered suspicious other dogmas against the antiquity of
Catholicism that they taught; that these reflections, which she had never
before made, gave her much disquietude, and made her form the resolution
to seek to enlighten herself.

Chardon thought his wife right, and from that day they laid themselves
out to seek the truth, then to consult, then to be instructed. This
lasted a year, and then they made a new abjuration, and both ever
afterwards passed their lives in zeal and good works. Madame Chardon
converted many Huguenots. The Comte d'Auvergne took his wife to her.
The Countess was converted by her, and became a very good Catholic. When
she died she was extremely regretted by all the relatives of her husband,
although at first they had looked upon her coldly.

In the month of this September, a strange attempt at assassination
occurred. Vervins had been forced into many suits against his relatives,
and was upon the point of gaining them all, when one of his cousins-
german, who called himself the Abbe de Pre, caused him to be attacked as
he passed in his coach along the Quai de la Tournelle, before the
community of Madame de Miramion. Vervins was wounded with several sword
cuts, and also his coachman, who wished to defend him. In consequence of
the complaint Vervins made, the Abbe escaped abroad, whence he never
returned, and soon after, his crime being proved, was condemned to be
broken alive on the wheel. Vervins had long been menaced with an attack
by the Abbe. Vervins was an agreeable, well-made man, but very idle.
He had entered the army; but quitted it soon, and retired to his estates
in Picardy. There he shut himself up without any cause of disgust or of
displeasure, without being in any embarrassment, for on the contrary he
was well to do, and all his affairs were in good order, and he never
married; without motives of piety, for piety was not at all in his vein;
without being in bad health, for his health was always perfect; without a
taste for improvement, for no workmen were ever seen in his house; still
less on account of the chase, for he never went to it. Yet he stayed in
his house for several years, without intercourse with a soul, and, what
is most incomprehensible, without budging from his bed, except to allow
it to be made. He dined there, and often all alone; he transacted what
little business he had to do there, and received while there the few
people he could not refuse admission to; and each day, from the moment he
opened his eyes until he closed them again, worked at tapestry, or read a
little; he persevered until his death in this strange fashion of
existence; so uniquely singular, that I have wished to describe it.




CHAPTER XXXI

There presents itself to my memory an anecdote which it would be very
prudent perhaps to be silent upon, and which is very curious for anybody
who has seen things so closely as I have, to describe. What determines
me to relate it is that the fact is not altogether unknown, and that
every Court swarms with similar adventures. Must it be said then? We
had amongst us a charming young Princess who, by her graces, her
attentions, and her original manners, had taken possession of the hearts
of the King, of Madame de Maintenon, and of her husband, Monseigneur le
Duc de Bourgogne. The extreme discontent so justly felt against her
father, M. de Savoie, had not made the slightest alteration in their
tenderness for her. The King, who hid nothing from her, who worked with
his ministers in her presence whenever she liked to enter, took care not
to say a word in her hearing against her father. In private, she clasped
the King round the neck at all hours, jumped upon his knees, tormented
him with all sorts of sportiveness, rummaged among his papers, opened his
letters end read them in his presence, sometimes in spite of him; and
acted in the same manner with Madame de Maintenon. Despite this extreme
liberty, she never spoke against any one: gracious to all, she
endeavoured to ward off blows from all whenever she could; was attentive
to the private comforts of the King, even the humblest: kind to all who
served her, and living with her ladies, as with friends, in complete
liberty, old and young; she was the darling of the Court, adored by all;
everybody, great and small, was anxious to please her; everybody missed
her when she was away; when she reappeared the void was filled up; in a
word, she had attached all hearts to her; but while in this brilliant
situation she lost her own.

Nangis, now a very commonplace Marshal of France, was at that time in
full bloom. He had an agreeable but not an uncommon face; was well made,
without anything marvellous; and had been educated in intrigue by the
Marechale de Rochefort, his grandmother, and Madame de Blansac, his
mother, who were skilled mistresses of that art. Early introduced by
them into the great world of which they were, so to speak, the centre,
he had no talent but that of pleasing women, of speaking their language,
and of monopolising the most desirable by a discretion beyond his years,
and which did not belong to his time. Nobody was more in vogue than he.
He had had the command of a regiment when he was quite a child. He had
shown firmness, application, and brilliant valour in war, that the ladies
had made the most of, and they sufficed at his age; he was of the Court
of Monseigneur le Duc de Bourgogne, about the same age, and well treated
by him.

The Duc de Bourgogne, passionately in love with his wife, was not so well
made as Nangis; but the Princess reciprocated his ardor so perfectly that
up to his death he never suspected that her glances had wandered to any
one else. They fell, however, upon Nangis, and soon redoubled. Nangis
was not ungrateful, but he feared the thunderbolt; and his heart, too,
was already engaged. Madame de la Vrilliere, who, without beauty, was
pretty and grateful as Love, had made this conquest. She was, as I have
said, daughter of Madame de Mailly, Dame d'Atours of Madame la Duchesse
de Bourgogne; and was always near her. Jealousy soon enlightened her as
to what was taking place. Far from yielding her conquest to the Duchess;
she made a point of preserving it, of disputing its possession, and
carrying it off. This struggle threw Nangis into a terrible
embarrassment. He feared the fury of Madame de la Vrilliere, who
affected to be more ready to break out than in reality she was. Besides
his love for her, he feared the result of an outburst, and already saw
his fortune lost. On the other hand, any reserve of his towards the
Duchess, who had so much power in her hands--and seemed destined to
have more--and who he knew was not likely to suffer a rival
--might, he felt, be his ruin. This perplexity, for those who were aware
of it, gave rise to continual scenes. I was then a constant visitor of
Madame de Blansac, at Paris, and of the Marechale de Rochefort, at
Versailles; and, through them and several other ladies of the Court, with
whom I was intimate, I learnt, day by day, everything that passed. In
addition to the fact that nothing diverted me more, the results of this
affair might be great; and it was my especial ambition to be well
informed of everything. At length, all members of the Court who were
assiduous and enlightened understood the state of affairs; but either
through fear or from love to the Duchess, the whole Court was silent, saw
everything, whispered discreetly, and actually kept the secret that was
not entrusted to it. The struggle between the two ladies, not without
bitterness, and sometimes insolence on the part of Madame de la
Vrilliere, nor without suffering and displeasure gently manifested on the
part of Madame de Bourgogne, was for a long time a singular sight.

Whether Nangis, too faithful to his first love, needed some grains of
jealousy to excite him, or whether things fell out naturally, it happened
that he found a rival. Maulevrier, son of a brother of Colbert who had
died of grief at not being named Marshal of France, was this rival. He
had married a daughter of the Marechal de Tesse, and was not very
agreeable in appearance--his face, indeed, was very commonplace. He was
by no means framed for gallantry; but he had wit, and a mind fertile in
intrigues, with a measureless ambition that was sometimes pushed to
madness. His wife was pretty, not clever, quarrelsome, and under a
virginal appearance; mischievous to the last degree. As daughter of a
man for whom Madame de Bourgogne had much gratitude for the part he had
taken in negotiating her marriage, and the Peace of Savoy, she was easily
enabled to make her way at Court, and her husband with her. He soon
sniffed what was passing in respect to Nangis, and obtained means of
access to Madame de Bourgogne, through the influence of his father-in-
law; was assiduous in his attentions; and at length, excited by example,
dared to sigh. Tired of not being understood, he ventured to write. It
is pretended that he sent his letters through one of the Court ladies,
who thought they came from Tesse, delivered them, and handed him back the
answers, as though for delivery by him. I will not add what more was
believed. I will simply say that this affair was as soon perceived as
had been the other, and was treated, with the same silence.

Under pretext of friendship, Madame de Bourgogne went more than once--on
account of the speedy departure of her husband (for the army), attended
some, times by La Maintenon,--to the house of Madame de Maulevrier, to
weep with her. The Court smiled. Whether the tears were for Madame de
Maulevrier or for Nangis, was doubtful. But Nangis, nevertheless,
aroused by this rivalry, threw Madame de la Vrilliere into terrible
grief, and into a humour over which she was not mistress.

This tocsin made itself heard by Maulevrier. What will not a man think
of doing when possessed to excess by love or ambition? He pretended to
have something the matter with his chest, put himself on a milk diet,
made believe that he had lost his voice, and was sufficiently master of
himself to refrain from uttering an intelligible word during a whole
year; by these means evading the campaign and remaining at the Court.
He was mad enough to relate this project, and many others, to his friend
the Duc de Lorges, from whom, in turn, I learnt it. The fact was, that
bringing himself thus to the necessity of never speaking to anybody
except in their ear, he had the liberty of speaking low to--Madame la
Duchesse de Bourgogne before all the Court without impropriety and
without suspicion. In this manner he said to her whatever he wished day
by day, and was never overheard. He also contrived to say things the
short answers to which were equally unheard. He so accustomed people to
this manner of speaking that they took no more notice of it than was
expressed in pity for such a sad state; but it happened that those who
approached the nearest to Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne when Maulevrier
was at her side, soon knew enough not to be eager to draw near her again
when she was thus situated. This trick lasted more than a year: his
conversation was principally composed of reproaches--but reproaches
rarely succeed in love. Maulevrier, judging by the ill-humour of Madame
de la Vrilliere, believed Nangis to be happy. Jealousy and rage
transported him at last to the extremity of folly.

One day, as Madame de Bourgogne was coming from mass and he knew that
Dangeau, her chevalier d'honneur, was absent, he gave her his hand. The
attendants had accustomed themselves to let him have this honour, on
account of his distinguished voice, so as to allow him to speak by the
way, and retired respectfully so as not to hear what he said. The ladies
always followed far behind, so that, in the midst of all the Court, he
had, from the chapel to the apartments of Madame de Bourgogne, the full
advantages of a private interview--advantages that he had availed himself
of several times. On this day he railed against Nangis to Madame de
Bourgogne, called him by all sorts of names, threatened to tell
everything to the King and to Madame de Maintenon, and to the Duc de
Bourgogne, squeezed her fingers as if he would break them, and led her in
this manner, like a madman as he was, to her apartments. Upon entering
them she was ready to swoon. Trembling all over she entered her
wardrobe, called one of her favourite ladies, Madame de Nogaret, to her,
related what had occurred, saying she knew not how she had reached her
rooms, or how it was she had not sunk beneath the floor, or died. She
had never been so dismayed. The same day Madame de Nogaret related this
to Madame de Saint-Simon and to me, in the strictest confidence. She
counselled the Duchess to behave gently with such a dangerous madman, and
to avoid committing herself in any way with him. The worst was, that
after this he threatened and said many things against Nangis, as a man
with whom he was deeply offended, and whom he meant to call to account.
Although he gave no reason for this, the reason was only too evident.
The fear of Madame de Bourgogne at this may be imagined, and also that of
Nangis. He was brave and cared for nobody; but to be mixed up in such an
affair as this made him quake with fright. He beheld his fortune and his
happiness in the hands of a furious madman. He shunned Maulevrier from
that time as much as possible, showed himself but little, and held his
peace.

For six weeks Madame de Bourgogne lived in the most measured manner, and
in mortal tremors of fear, without, however, anything happening. I know
not who warned Tesse of what was going on. But when he learnt it he
acted like a man of ability. He persuaded his son-in-law, Maulevrier, to
follow him to Spain, as to a place where his fortune was assured to him.
He spoke to Fagon, who saw all and knew all. He understood matters in a
moment, and at once said, that as so many remedies had been tried
ineffectually for Maulevrier, he must go to a warmer climate, as a winter
in France would inevitably kill him. It was then as a remedy, and as
people go to the waters, that he went to Spain. The King and all the
Court believed this, and neither the King nor Madame de Maintenon offered
any objections. As soon as Tesse knew this he hurried his son-in-law out
of the realm, and so put a stop to his follies and the mortal fear they
had caused. To finish this adventure at once, although it will lead me
far beyond the date of other matters to be spoken of after, let me say
what became of Maulevrier after this point of the narrative.

He went first to Spain with Tesse. On the way they had an interview with
Madame des Ursins, and succeeded in gaining her favour so completely,
that, upon arriving at Madrid, the King and Queen of Spain, informed of
this, welcomed them with much cordiality. Maulevrier soon became a great
favourite with the Queen of Spain. It has been said, that he wished to
please her, and that he succeeded. At all events he often had long
interviews with her in private, and these made people think and talk.

Maulevrier began to believe it time to reap after having so well sown.
He counted upon nothing less than being made grandee of Spain, and would
have obtained this favour but for his indiscretion. News of what was in
store for him was noised abroad. The Duc de Grammont, then our
ambassador at Madrid, wrote word to the King of the rumours that were in
circulation of Maulevrier's audacious conduct towards the Queen of Spain,
and of the reward it was to meet with. The King at once sent a very
strong letter to the King of Spain about Maulevrier, who, by the same
courier, was prohibited from accepting any favour that might be offered
him. He was ordered at the same time to join Tesse at Gibraltar. He had
already done so at the instance of Tesse himself; so the courier went
from Madrid to Gibraltar to find him. His rage and vexation upon seeing
himself deprived of the recompense he had considered certain were very
great. But they yielded in time to the hopes he formed of success, and
he determined to set off for Madrid and thence to Versailles. His
father-in-law tried to retain him at the siege, but in vain. His
representations and his authority were alike useless. Maulevrier hoped
to gain over the King and Queen of Spain so completely, that our King
would be forced, as it were, to range himself on their side; but the Duc
de Grammont at once wrote word that Maulevrier had left the siege of
Gibraltar and returned to Madrid. This disobedience was at once
chastised. A courier was immediately despatched to Maulevrier,
commanding him to set out for France. He took leave of the King and
Queen of Spain like a man without hope, and left Spain. The most
remarkable thing is, that upon arriving at Paris, and finding the Court
at Marly, and his wife there also, he asked permission to go too, the
husbands being allowed by right to accompany their wives there, and the
King, to avoid a disturbance, did not refuse him.

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