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

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The Apartment, which, however heavy in appearance, was full of interest
to, me, seemed quite short. It finished by the supper of the King. His
Majesty appeared quite at ease. Madame's eyes were full of tears, which
fell from time to time as she looked into every face around, as if in
search of all our thoughts. Her son, whose eyes too were red, she would
not give a glance to; nor to Monsieur: all three ate scarcely anything.
I remarked that the King offered Madame nearly all the dishes that were
before him, and that she refused with an air of rudeness which did not,
however, check his politeness. It was furthermore noticeable that, after
leaving the table, he made to Madame a very marked and very low
reverence, during which she performed so complete a pirouette, that the
King on raising his head found nothing but her back before him, removed
about a step further towards the door.

On the morrow we went as usual to wait in the gallery for the breaking-up
of the council, and for the King's Mass. Madame came there. Her son
approached her, as he did every day, to kiss her hand. At that very
moment she gave him a box on the ear, so sonorous that it was heard
several steps distant. Such treatment in presence of all the Court
covered with confusion this unfortunate prince, and overwhelmed the
infinite number of spectators, of whom I was one, with prodigious
astonishment.

That day the immense dowry was declared; and on Sunday there was a grand
ball, that is, a ball opened by a 'branle' which settled the order of the
dancing throughout the evening. Monseigneur the Duc de Bourgogne danced
on this occasion for the first time; and led off the 'branle' with
Mademoiselle. I danced also for the first time at Court. My partner was
Mademoiselle de Sourches, daughter of the Grand Prevot; she danced
excellently. I had been that morning to wait on Madame, who could not
refrain from saying, in a sharp and angry voice, that I was doubtless
very glad of the promise of so many balls--that this was natural at my
age; but that, for her part, she was old, and wished they were well over.
A few days after, the contract of marriage was signed in the closet of
the King, and in the presence of all the Court. The same day the
household of the future Duchesse de Chartres was declared. The King gave
her a first gentleman usher and a Dame d'Atours, until then reserved to
the daughters of France, and a lady of honour, in order to carry out
completely so strange a novelty. I must say something about the persons
who composed this household.

M. de Villars was gentleman usher; he was grandson of a recorder of
Coindrieu, and one of the best made men in France. There was a great
deal of fighting in his young days, and he had acquired a reputation for
courage and skill. To these qualities he owed his fortune. M. de
Nemours was his first patron, and, in a duel which he had with M. de
Beaufort, took Villars for second. M. de Nemours was killed; but Villars
was victorious against his adversary, anal passed into the service of the
Prince de Conti as one of his gentlemen. He succeeded in gaining
confidence in his new employment; so much so, that the marriage which
afterwards took place between the Prince de Conti and the niece of
Cardinal Mazarin was brought about in part by his assistance. He became
the confidant of the married pair, and their bond: of union with the
Cardinal. His position gave him an opportunity of mixing in society much
above him; but on this he never presumed. His face was his, passport
with the ladies: he was gallant, even discreet; and this means was not
unuseful to him. He pleased Madame Scarron, who upon the throne never
forgot the friendships of this kind, so freely intimate, which she had
formed as a private person. Villars was employed in diplomacy; and from
honour to honour, at last reached the order of the Saint Esprit, in 1698.
His wife was full of wit, and scandalously inclined. Both were very
poor--and always dangled about the Court, where they had many powerful
friends.

The Marechale de Rochefort was lady of honour. She was of the house of
Montmorency--a widow--handsome--sprightly; formed by nature to live at
Court--apt for gallantry and intrigues; full of worldly cleverness, from
living much in the world, with little cleverness of any other kind,
nearly enough for any post and any business. M. de Louvois found her
suited to his taste, and she accommodated herself very well to his purse,
and to the display she made by this intimacy. She always became the
friend of every new mistress of the King; and when he favoured Madame de
Soubise, it was at the Marechale's house that she waited, with closed
doors, for Bontems, the King's valet, who led her by private ways to his
Majesty. The Marechale herself has related to me how one day she was
embarrassed to get rid of the people that Madame de Soubise (who had not
had time to announce her arrival) found at her house; and how she most
died of fright lest Bontems should return and the interview be broken off
if he arrived before the company had departed. The Marechale de
Rochefort was in this way the friend of Mesdames de la Valliere, de
Montespan, and de Soubise; and she became the friend of Madame de
Maintenon, to whom she attached herself in proportion as she saw her
favour increase. She had, at the marriage of Monseigneur, been made Dame
d'Atours to the new Dauphiness; and, if people were astonished at that,
they were also astonished to see her lady of honour to an "illegitimate
grand-daughter of France."

The Comtesse de Mailly was Dame d'Atours. She was related to Madame de
Maintenon, to whose favour she owed her marriage with the Comte de
Mailly. She had come to Paris with all her provincial awkwardness, and,
from want of wit, had never been able to get rid of it. On the contrary,
she grafted thereon an immense conceit, caused by the favour of Madame de
Maintenon. To complete the household, came M. de Fontaine-Martel, poor
and gouty, who was first master of the horse.

On the Monday before Shrove Tuesday, all the marriage party and the bride
and bridegroom, superbly dressed, repaired, a little before mid-day, to
the closet of the King, and afterwards to the chapel. It was arranged,
as usual, for the Mass of the King, excepting that between his place and
the altar were two cushions for the bride and bridegroom, who turned
their backs to the King. Cardinal de Bouillon, in full robes, married
them, and said Mass. From the chapel all the company went to table: it
was of horse-shoe shape. The Princes and Princesses of the blood were
placed at the right and at the left, according to their rank, terminated
by the two illegitimate children of the King, and, for the first time,
after them, the Duchesse de Verneuil; so that M. de Verneuil,
illegitimate son of Henry IV., became thus "Prince of the blood" so many
years after his death, without having ever suspected it. The Duc d'Uzes
thought this so amusing that he marched in front of the Duchess, crying
out, as loud as he could--"Place, place for Madame Charlotte Seguier!"
In the afternoon the King and Queen of England came to Versailles with
their Court. There was a great concert; and the play-tables were set
out. The supper was similar to the dinner. Afterwards the married
couple were led into the apartment of the new Duchesse de Chartres. The
Queen of England gave the Duchess her chemise; and the shirt of the Duke
was given to him by the King, who had at first refused on the plea that
he was in too unhappy circumstances. The benediction of the bed was
pronounced by the Cardinal de Bouillon, who kept us all waiting for a
quarter of an hour; which made people say that such airs little became a
man returned as he was from a long exile, to which he had been sent
because he had had the madness to refuse the nuptial benediction to
Madame la Duchesse unless admitted to the royal banquet.

On Shrove Tuesday, there was a grand toilette of the Duchesse de
Chartres, to which the King and all the Court came; and in the evening a
grand ball, similar to that which had just taken place, except that the
new Duchesse de Chartres was led out by the Duc de Bourgogne. Every one
wore the same dress, and had the same partner as before.

I cannot pass over in silence a very ridiculous adventure which occurred
at both of these balls. A son of Montbron, no more made to dance at
Court than his father was to be chevalier of the order (to which however,
he was promoted in 1688), was among the company. He had been asked if he
danced well; and he had replied with a confidence which made every one
hope that the contrary was the case. Every one was satisfied. From the
very first bow, he became confused, and he lost step at once. He tried
to divert attention from his mistake by affected attitudes, and carrying
his arms high; but this made him only more ridiculous, and excited bursts
of laughter, which, in despite of the respect due to the person of the
King (who likewise had great difficulty to hinder himself from laughing),
degenerated at length into regular hooting. On the morrow, instead of
flying the Court or holding his tongue, he excused himself by saying that
the presence of the King had disconcerted him; and promised marvels for
the ball which was to follow. He was one of my friends, and I felt for
him, I should even have warned him against a second attempt, if the very
indifferent success I had met with had not made me fear that my advice
would be taken in ill part. As soon as he began to dance at the second
ball, those who were near stood up, those who were far off climbed
wherever they could get a sight; and the shouts of laughter were mingled
with clapping of hands. Every one, even the King himself, laughed
heartily, and most of us quite loud, so that I do not think any one was
ever treated so before. Montbron disappeared immediately afterwards, and
did not show himself again for a long time, It was a pity he exposed
himself to this defeat, for he was an honourable and brave man.

Ash Wednesday put an end to all these sad rejoicings by command, and only
the expected rejoicings were spoken of. M. du Maine wished to marry.
The King tried to turn him from it, and said frankly to him, that it was
not for such as he to make a lineage. But pressed M. by Madame de
Maintenon, who had educated Maine; and who felt for him as a nurse the
King resolved to marry him to a daughter of the Prince de Conde. The
Prince was greatly pleased at the project. He had three daughters for
M. du Maine to choose from: all three were extremely little. An inch of
height, that the second had above the others, procured for her the
preference, much to the grief of the eldest, who was beautiful and
clever, and who dearly wished to escape from the slavery in which her
father kept her. The dignity with which she bore her disappointment was
admired by every one, but it cost her an effort that ruined her health.
The marriage once arranged, was celebrated on the 19th of March; much in
the same manner as had been that of the Duc de Chartres. Madame de
Saint-Vallery was appointed lady of honour to Madame du Maine, and M. de
Montchevreuil gentleman of the chamber. This last had been one of the
friends of Madame de Maintenon when she was Madame Scarron.
Montchevreuil was a very honest man, modest, brave, but thick-headed.
His wife was a tall creature, meagre, and yellow, who laughed sillily,
and showed long and ugly teeth; who was extremely devout, of a compassed
mien, and who only wanted a broomstick to be a perfect witch. Without
possessing any wit, she had so captivated Madame de Maintenon, that the
latter saw only with her eyes. All the ladies of the Court were under
her surveillance: they depended upon her for their distinctions, and
often for their fortunes. Everybody, from the ministers to the daughters
of the King, trembled before her. The King himself showed her the most
marked consideration. She was of all the Court journeys, and always with
Madame de Maintenon.

The marriage of M. du Maine caused a rupture between the Princess de
Conde and the Duchess of Hanover her sister, who had strongly desired
M. du Maine for one of her daughters, and who pretended that the Prince
de Conde had cut the grass from under her feet. She lived in Paris,
making a display quite unsuited to her rank, and had even carried it so
far as to go about with two coaches and many liveried servants. With
this state one day she met in the streets the coach of Madame de
Bouillon, which the servants of the German woman forced to give way to
their mistress's. The Bouillons, piqued to excess, resolved to be
revenged. One day, when they knew the Duchess was going to the play,
they went there attended by a numerous livery. Their servants had orders
to pick a quarrel with those of the Duchess. They executed these orders
completely; the servants of the Duchess were thoroughly thrashed--the
harness of her horses cut--her coaches maltreated. The Duchess made a
great fuss, and complained to the King, but he would not mix himself in
the matter. She was so outraged, that she resolved to retire into
Germany, and in a very few months did so.

My year of service in the Musketeers being over, the King, after a time,
gave me, without purchase, a company of cavalry in the Royal Roussillon,
in garrison at Mons, and just then very incomplete. I thanked the King,
who replied to me very obligingly. The company was entirely made up in a
fortnight. This was towards the middle of April.

A little before, that is, on the 27th of March, the King made seven new
marechals of France. They were the Comte de Choiseul, the Duc de
Villeroy, the Marquis de Joyeuse, Tourville, the Duc de Noailles, the
Marquis de Boufllers, and Catinat. These promotions caused very great
discontent. Complaint was more especially made that the Duc de Choiseul
had not been named. The cause of his exclusion is curious. His wife,
beautiful, with the form of a goddess--notorious for the number of her
gallantries--was very intimate with the Princess de Conti. The King, not
liking such a companion for his daughter, gave the Duc de Choiseul to
understand that the public disorders of the Duchess offended him. If the
Duke would send her into a convent, the Marechal's baton would be his.
The Duc de Choiseul, indignant that the reward of his services in the war
was attached to a domestic affair which concerned himself alone, refused
promotion on such terms. He thus lost the baton; and, what was worse for
him, the Duchess soon after was driven from Court, and so misbehaved
herself, that at last he could endure her no longer, drove her away
himself, and separated from her for ever.

Mademoiselle la grande Mademoiselle, as she was called, to distinguish
her from the daughter of Monsieur--or to call her by her name,
Mademoiselle de Montpensier, died on Sunday the 5th of April, at her
palace in the Luxembourg, sixty-three years of age, and the richest
private princess in Europe. She interested herself much in those who
were related to her, even to the lowest degree, and wore mourning for
them, however far removed. It is well known, from all the memoirs of the
time, that she was greatly in love with M. de Lauzun, and that she
suffered much when the King withheld his permission to their marriage.
M. de Lauzun was so enraged, that he could not contain himself, and at
last went so far beyond bounds, that he was sent prisoner to Pignerol,
where he remained, extremely ill-treated, for ten years. The affection
of Mademoiselle did not grow cold by separation. The King profited by
it, to make M. de Lauzun buy his liberty at her expense, and thus
enriched M. du Maine. He always gave out that he had married
Mademoiselle, and appeared before the King, after her death, in a long
cloak, which gave great displeasure. He also assumed ever afterwards a
dark brown livery, as an external expression of his grief for
Mademoiselle, of whom he had portraits everywhere. As for Mademoiselle,
the King never quite forgave her the day of Saint Antoine; and I heard
him once at supper reproach her in jest, for having fired the cannons of
the Bastille upon his troops. She was a little embarrassed, but she got
out of the difficulty very well.

Her body was laid out with great state, watched for several days, two
hours at a time, by a duchess or a princess, and by two ladies of
quality. The Comtesse de Soissons refused to take part in this watching,
and would not obey until the King threatened to dismiss her from the
Court. A very ridiculous accident happened in the midst of this
ceremony. The urn containing the entrails fell over, with a frightful
noise and a stink sudden and intolerable. The ladies, the heralds, the
psalmodists, everybody present fled, in confusion. Every one tried to
gain the door first. The entrails had been badly embalmed, and it was
their fermentation which caused the accident. They were soon perfumed
and put in order, and everybody laughed at this mishap. These entrails
were in the end carried to the Celestins, the heart to Val de Grace, and
the body to the Cathedral of Saint Denis, followed by a numerous company.




CHAPTER III

On May 3d 1693, the King announced his intention of placing himself at
the head of his army in Flanders, and, having made certain alterations in
the rule of precedence of the marechale of France, soon after began the
campaign. I have here, however, to draw attention to my private affairs,
for on the above-mentioned day, at ten o'clock in the morning, I had the
misfortune to lose my father. He was eighty-seven years of age, and had
been in bad health for some time, with a touch of gout during the last
three weeks. On the day in question he had dined as usual with his
friends, had retired to bed, and, while talking to those around him
there, all at once gave three violent sighs. He was dead almost before
it was perceived that he was ill; there was no more oil in the lamp.

I learned this sad news after seeing the King to bed; his Majesty was to
purge himself on the morrow. The night was given to the just sentiments
of nature; but the next day I went early to visit Bontems, and then the
Duc de Beauvilliers, who promised to ask the King, as soon as his
curtains were opened, to grant me the--offices my father had held. The
King very graciously complied with his request, and in the afternoon said
many obliging things to me, particularly expressing his regret that my
father had not been able to receive the last sacraments. I was able to
say that a very short time before, my father had retired for several days
to Saint Lazare, where was his confessor, and added something on the
piety of his life. The King exhorted me to behave well, and promised to
take care of me. When my father was first taken ill; several persons,
amongst others, D'Aubigne, brother of Madame de Maintenon, had asked for
the governorship of Blaye. But the King refused them all, and said very
bluntly to D'Aubigne, "Is there not a son?" He had, in fact, always
given my father to understand I should succeed him, although generally he
did not allow offices to descend from father to son.

Let me say a few words about my father. Our family in my grandfather's
time had become impoverished; and my father was early sent to the Court
as page to Louis XIII. It was very customary then for the sons of
reduced gentlemen to accept this occupation. The King was passionately
fond of hunting, an amusement that was carried on with far less state,
without that abundance of dogs, and followers, and convenience of all
kinds which his successor introduced, and especially without roads
through the forests. My father, who noticed the impatience of the King
at the delays that occurred in changing horses, thought of turning the
head of the horse he brought towards the crupper of that which the King
quitted. By this means, without putting his feet to the ground, his
Majesty, who was active, jumped from one horse to another. He was so
pleased that whenever he changed horses he asked for this same page.
From that time my father grew day by day in favour. The King made him
Chief Ecuyer, and in course of years bestowed other rewards upon him,
created him Duke and peer of France, and gave him the Government of
Blaye. My father, much attached to the King, followed him in all his
expeditions, several times commanded the cavalry of the army, was
commander-in-chief of all the arrierebans of the kingdom, and acquired
great reputation in the field for his valour and skill. With Cardinal
Richelieu he was intimate without sympathy, and more than once, but
notably on the famous Day of the Dupes, rendered signal service to that
minister. My father used often to be startled out of his sleep in the
middle of the night by a valet, with a taper in his hand, drawing the
curtain--having behind him the Cardinal de Richelieu, who would often
take the taper and sit down upon the bed and exclaim that he was a lost
man, and ask my father's advice upon news that he had received or on
quarrels he had had with the King. When all Paris was in consternation
at the success of the Spaniards, who had crossed the frontier, taken
Corbie, and seized all the country as far as Compiegne, the King insisted
on my father being present at the council which was then held. The
Cardinal de Richelieu maintained that the King should retreat beyond the
Seine, and all the assembly seemed of that opinion. But the King in a
speech which lasted a quarter of an hour opposed this, and said that to
retreat at such a moment would be to increase the general disorder. Then
turning to my father he ordered him to be prepared to depart for Corbie
on the morrow, with as many of his men as he could get ready. The
histories and the memoirs of the time show that this bold step saved the
state. The Cardinal, great man as he was, trembled, until the first
appearance of success, when he grew bold enough to join the King. This
is a specimen of the conduct of that weak King governed by that first
minister to whom poets and historians have given the glory they have
stripped from his master; as, for instance, all the works of the siege of
Rochelle, and the invention and unheard-of success of the celebrated
dyke, all solely due to the late King!

Louis XIII. loved my father; but he could scold him at times. On two
occasions he did so. The first, as my father has related to me, was on
account of the Duc de Bellegarde. The Duke was in disgrace, and had been
exiled. My father, who was a friend of his, wished to write to him one
day, and for want of other leisure, being then much occupied, took the
opportunity of the King's momentary absence to carry out his desire.
Just as he was finishing his letter, the King came in; my father tried to
hide the paper, but the eyes of the King were too quick for him. "What
is that paper?" said he. My father, embarrassed, admitted that it was a
few words he had written to M. de Bellegarde.

"Let me see it," said the King; and he took the paper and read it.
"I don't find fault with you," said he, "for writing to your friends,
although in disgrace, for I know you will write nothing improper; but
what displeases me is, that you should fail in the respect you owe to a
duke and peer, in that, because he is exiled, you should omit to address
him as Monseigneur;" and then tearing the letter in two, he added, "Write
it again after the hunt, and put, Monseigneur, as you ought." My father
was very glad to be let off so easily.

The other reprimand was upon a more serious subject. The King was really
enamoured of Mademoiselle d'Hautefort. My father, young and gallant,
could not comprehend why he did not gratify his love. He believed his
reserve to arise from timidity, and under this impression proposed one
day to the King to be his ambassador and to bring the affair to a
satisfactory conclusion. The King allowed him to speak to the end, and
then assumed a severe air. "It is true," said he, "that I am enamoured
of her, that I feel it, that I seek her, that I speak of her willingly,
and think of her still more willingly; it is true also that I act thus in
spite of myself, because I am mortal and have this weakness; but the more
facility I have as King to gratify myself, the more I ought to be on my
guard against sin and scandal. I pardon you this time, but never address
to me a similar discourse again if you wish that I should continue to
love you." This was a thunderbolt for my father; the scales fell from
his eyes; the idea of the King's timidity in love disappeared before the
display of a virtue so pure and so triumphant.

My father's career was for a long time very successful, but unfortunately
he had an enemy who brought it to an end. This enemy was M. de Chavigny:
he was secretary of state, and had also the war department. Either from
stupidity or malice he had left all the towns in Picardy badly supported;
a circumstance the Spaniards knew well how to profit by when they took
Corbie in 1636. My father had an uncle who commanded in one of these
towns, La Capelle, and who had several times asked for ammunition and
stores without success. My father spoke upon this subject to Chavigny,
to the Cardinal de Richelieu, and to the King, but with no good effect.
La Capelle, left without resources, fell like the places around. As I
have said before, Louis XIII. did not long allow the Spaniards to enjoy
the advantages they had gained. All the towns in Picardy were soon
retaken, and the King, urged on by Chavigny, determined to punish the
governors of these places for surrendering them so easily. My father's
uncle was included with the others. This injustice was not to be borne.
My father represented the real state of the case and used every effort,
to save his uncle, but it was in vain. Stung to the quick he demanded
permission to retire, and was allowed to do so. Accordingly, at the
commencement of 1637, he left for Blaye; and remained there until the
death of Cardinal Richelieu. During this retirement the King frequently
wrote to him, in a language they had composed so as to speak before
people without being understood; and I possess still many of these
letters, with much regret that I am ignorant of their contents.

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