Extraordinary anecdote of Louis XIV and madame de Maintenon--
The comtesse du Barry at Chantilly--Opinion of king and
comte de la Marche respecting the “Iron Mask”--Madame du
Barry visits madame de Lagarde
My acquaintance with the singular being I was speaking of in the last
chapter did not end here, as you will find in the sequel. I will now
give you an account of an equally strange affair, in nearly the same
words as Louis XV himself related it to me. Altho’ strongly recommended
by my sister-in-law and M. de Sartines to conceal the whole story of
my mysterious friend from the king, yet, unaccustomed to the prudential
observation of court reserve, I, one fine evening, in order to fill up a
long blank in the conversation, related the story from beginning to end.
His majesty listened with attention until I had concluded.
“This is indeed,” said he, “a most singular history; and I think you
have acted very wisely in putting an end to all such interference on the
part of the police; for in such cases you frequently run great risks
to procure a trifling gratification. We have seen something of the same
sort in our family.”
This discourse excited my curiosity; and I entreated of him to
explain himself more fully. “I ought not to do so,” replied he; “such
transactions should be kept for ever concealed; but as more than half
a century has elapsed since the event I allude to took place, I think I
may venture to break the silence I have religiously observed until now.
You are the only person I have ever mentioned it to, and I must bind you
to the strictest secrecy.”
This I faithfully promised; and so long as Louis XV lived I kept my
word.
“At the conclusion of the last century, during the month of September,”
resumed the king, “it happened that Louis XIV, and madame de Maintenon
formed the wish of consulting together some learned astrologer, in order
to ascertain whether the coming age would be productive of good or ill
to them. As neither of them knew to whom to apply, in order to attain
their object, madame de Maintenon was compelled to confide her wishes to
her friend, madame de Montchevreuil, who readily engaged to find for her
the person she required; for, spite of the severity with which the law
visited such practices, there was no scarcity of dealers in augury, who
promised good or bad fortune accordingly as they were paid for it.
“Whilst this lady was making diligent search after one perfectly
competent to satisfy madame de Maintenon, this latter, in conjunction
with the king, despite the superiority of their minds, was greatly
disturbed at the probable consequences of the step they meditated. Their
desire to penetrate into futurity appeared to them as ridiculous as it
was criminal, but their weaker feelings triumphed; and the result of
their deliberations was that far from relinquishing their intention of
searching the book of fate, they should lose neither pains nor trouble
to attain their object; and to encourage each other, they reckoned upon
their fingers the names of every person of their acquaintance, or even
belonging to the court, who had derived profit and advantage from the
predictions of fortune-tellers.
“The minds of all at this period were still imbued with those
superstitious feelings, of which many of the most illustrious persons
had given ample proof even in the preceding reign. We have become either
more wicked or more sceptical, whichever you please to term it; but this
is certain, that many of the things predicted were accomplished with an
exact punctuality, which might serve to overthrow the finest arguments
of the greatest philosophers, and which has indeed destroyed many
ingenious theories. Doubtless the hidden laws of nature have reference
to other beings than ourselves; and, beyond dispute, may be said to
govern the creatures of an unknown world as well as exercising control
over poor mortals like us.” After this short digression, of which I give
you the precise wording, the king continued as follows:
“On the following day madame de Montchevreuil paid a visit to madame de
Maintenon, in which she declared, that upon mature reflection, she could
not proceed with the commission she had undertaken: that it was tempting
Providence, and had better be abandoned. This remonstrance had no effect
upon madame de Maintenon, who shielded herself from any necessity of
retracting, by repeating to herself, that she had pledged herself to
join Louis XIV in the undertaking, and it would never do for her to
forfeit her character for firmness and good sense by now appearing
trifling and capricious. However, she feigned a seeming compliance with
the advice of madame de Montchevreuil, whilst, in reality, her mind was
resolved upon executing her project.
“There was in her household a female who was not immediately one of her
establishment, altho’ generally ranking as such; one of those active,
stirring persons, who thrust themselves into a noble family under the
equivocal title of half servant, half lady. This one had charge of all
the necessary purchases of linen, Engaged the servants, kept watch over
their conduct, procured for the marchioness whatever particulars she
might require upon any subject; and took upon herself, in a word, any
piece of service by which she could more firmly plant herself in the
family of her employers. She received no fixed wages, but their absence
was abundantly compensated in the numerous rich presents that were
continually made her. Her sleeping apartment was always immediately
adjoining that of madame de Maintenon in the castle. A person of this
description (as may be readily supposed) knew the world too well to find
any difficulty in procuring a mere fortune-teller; and as her discretion
might be confidently relied on, it was resolved by her mistress to
intrust her with the design.
“Two days after, she had removed all difficulties by discovering an
Italian priest, famed as the most skilful necromancer of his day, one
who undertook to reveal the decrees of fate to all those who should
consult him, as clearly and readily as tho’ its leaves lay open, as a
book before his eyes. But this gifted person lived in the utmost dread
of attracting the notice of parliament, and exercised his art only under
the strictest assurances of secrecy, in the most retired and secluded
manner, with every precaution to prevent the possibility of a surprise.
“These conditions were too gratifying to madame de Maintenon to cause
much delay in subscribing to them; and it was finally arranged, that
the prophet and his new applicants should meet at a house in Sévres
belonging to the royal family, then in the occupation of madame Cerfol
(the lady of whom mention has been already made). The marchioness was
to repair thither at one o’clock in the morning with a single friend. To
have taken such a measure in open daylight would have been to proclaim
their secret to all Paris. One person besides madame de Cerfol was
necessarily admitted into their confidence, and that was the duc de
Noailles, who was charged, by the king’s express orders, to take every
possible precaution to ensure their safety, as far as it could be done
without attracting public attention to so extraordinary an affair.
“At the hour appointed madame de Maintenon and the duc de Noailles
ascended a carriage which awaited them at one of the park gates, and
soon conveyed them to Sévres, whither the Italian priest had gone the
preceding night. This wretched man had celebrated alone the sacrifice of
the mass, and had consecrated several wafers.
“Everything confirmed the opinion, that the conjuror, up to the present
moment, merely supposed himself sent for to satisfy the curiosity of
some country nobleman and his lady, who were both anxious and eager to
read their future fortune thro’ his assistance. I can only suppose, if
he had been in ignorance of the real rank of those who addressed
him, the sight of the king must have quickly undeceived him, as the
conclusion of the story proves he well knew to whom he spoke when he
delivered his prediction. However this may have been, he was no sooner
alone with the marchioness, than he commenced the necessary preparations
for the performance of his sorceries and enchantments; he burned
perfumes, offered prayers, and with loud invocations adjured the powers
of hell to answer him; and in the midst of a wild and agitating sound
which pervaded the whole building, during the heavy swell of noises
too dreadful to have arisen from mortal sources, and whilst a thousand
visions were flitting to and fro, he drew the horoscope of the king and
madame de Maintenon. He promised Louis XIV that he should succeed in all
his undertakings; and that, on the very day on which he spoke the
words (the 2nd of October) one of his children had been called to the
inheritance of an immense fortune. Then giving him a small packet,
wrapped in new parchment, ‘The day in which you form the fatal
resolution of acquainting yourself with the contents of this packet,’
said he, ‘will be the last of your prosperity; but if you desire to
carry your good fortune to the highest pitch, be careful upon every
great festival, that is to say, Easter, Whit-Sunday, the Assumption,
and Christmas, to plunge a pin in this talisman, so that the point shall
pass directly thro’ it; observe to do this, and you will live perfectly
happy.’
“The king accepted this fatal present, and swore upon the Gospel never
to open the packet; he richly rewarded the priest, who from that period
lived in a retreat so well concealed as to evade the most diligent
researches of those who sought to discover it.
“Some time after news was received, that on the very 2nd of October,
1700, named by the priest, Charles II, king of Spain, had appointed in
his will Philip of France, son of the dauphin, his successor and heir,
an inheritance truly immense, as the astrologer had foretold. You may
well think how highly this realization of the prediction inspired the
king with confidence as to the fulfilment of the remainder: and, on his
part, he never failed upon any saint’s day or other solemn festival to
stick the mysterious pin in the talisman upon which so much depended.
“Nevertheless, spite of all these observances, his undertakings d id not
invariably succeed, which astonished him greatly; when one day the great
Bossuet, happening to be at madame de Maintenon’s, the conversation
turned upon magic and sorcery, necromancy and their horrible
profanations; and he expressed himself with so much force and energy,
that the king and madame de Maintenon looked at each other without
knowing what to say, and began, for the first time, to feel compunction
for what they had done, and to regret their imprudence. They talked of
it much together, and at length resolved to reveal their crime to their
confessors. The punishment imposed on the king by his spiritual adviser
was, that he should evince his contempt for the talismanic properties of
the parchment packet, by immediately opening it.
“Louis XIV did not by any means admire this method of expiating his
fault; and a sort of involuntary dread took possession of him, as, in
obedience to the command of his confessor, he went to procure the magic
parcel, which he tore open in the presence of madame de Maintenon and
father la Chaise. The packet contained nothing but a consecrated wafer,
pierced thro’ with as many pins as there had been saints’ days since
the king had received it. At the sight of this horrible sacrilege my
grandfather was filled with deep remorse and consternation, from
which it was a long time ere he recovered; and it was not until he had
undergone many severe penances, fastings, and caused numberless masses
to be said, that he felt himself at all relieved from the weight of his
crime.
“But all this was only the commencement of the divine vengeance: and
those in the secret of this unfortunate affair remarked, that this great
monarch lost from that time as many male descendants in a direct line as
he had stuck pins into the holy wafer.”
Louis XV here terminated his singular history, which struck my mind
with a sort of religious terror. I strove by every possible effort
to dissimulate, concealing from the king the emotions to which his
narration had given rise. I contented myself with observing, “that after
hearing his marvelous recital, I should only be more confirmed in my
determination to leave my young prophet to the tranquillity he desired.”
“It will be far best so,” added Louis; “I know so many fatal results
which have followed any indiscreet curiosity, that I am persuaded
you had much better leave such mysterious affairs to work their own
solution.”
I promised to follow his advice, and we then conversed upon other
subjects. Since then this anecdote has recurred to my memory; and
without wishing to impeach the sincerity of Louis XV, I have asked
myself, whether, by the opportune relation of this adventure, probably
invented by himself, he did not seek to destroy the confidence I
appeared to entertain in the predictions of my prophet. I say invented,
because the king had a peculiar readiness and facility in composing
these sort of wonderful tales, carefully noting down every circumstance
which fell under his knowledge deviating from the ordinary course of
things. He had a large collection of these legends, which he delighted
in narrating; and this he did with an ease and grace of manner I have
never seen equalled.
About this period the prince de Condé, whose gallantry never failed,
entreated the king to pay a second visit to Chantilly: and it was upon
this occasion that Louis erased from the list of court ladies all those
whose presence would be disagreeable to me during our stay at Chantilly.
One scene of pleasure followed another, and one fête succeeded another.
I accompanied his majesty without ever quitting him; and if hitherto
there had existed any doubts as to the sincerity of the king’s
attachment, the most sceptical person would now have been convinced of
the fact. Louis XV was never from my side, and appeared solely occupied
in gratifying my slightest wish; the princes of the court carefully
followed his example; and such a life as I then led was abundant
compensation for all the pains and anxieties I had endured from the
malice and jealousy of certain females, as well as the sarcastic
bitterness of men, who feared lest my influence should destroy theirs.
I may, with truth, affirm that I received the honors and attention of a
queen; verses, plays, all written to convey some praise or compliment to
me; and the king testified the lively gratification it afforded him
to see me thus an object of general solicitude, as well as of the most
flattering distinction. His conduct towards the prince de Condé became
more gracious than it had ever been observed to be to the princes of the
blood; for there existed a singular coolness in the royal family towards
all the princes of this branch. The king looked upon it as vastly
inferior to his own, because it had been separated from the throne
before the accession of Henry IV to the crown; he even asserted, that
there was much to be said upon this subject, and prudence compels me to
pass over the many histories and circumstances related by him to me of
this brilliant portion of his noble race.
Neither the prince de Condé, whom I knew well, nor the prince de la
Marche, entertained much regard for their relations; and they had always
some spiteful story in store respecting the posterity of Louis XIII.
There is one historical fact which has never been cleared up.
One day I was conversing with the comte de la Marche upon the disputes
concerning the parliaments, and expressing my fear, that, if driven to
desperate measures, the people would rise in open rebellion in favor of
the magistracy. “They would be still more clamourous,” replied he, “if
they knew all I could tell them.”
“And what do you know more than myself?’” asked I; “your highness alarms
me by speaking thus.”
“Amongst events now passed and gone is one that would materially affect
the public peace, if known.”
“You must explain yourself, my lord,” said I. He refused; but I
persisted in pressing the matter with so much earnestness, that at last
he said, in a low voice,
“Did you ever hear of the man who wore the iron mask?”
“Yes, certainly,” replied I, “who was he?”
“A great prince, and a most unfortunate man.”
“But who was he really?”
“In the eyes of the law the crown of France should have been his; but in
the conscientious view of things he certainly had no claim.”
The comte de la Marche stopped here; and, as I was not very deeply read
in history, I did not exactly comprehend the distinction he had just
made. I had frequently heard talk of the “Iron Mask,” whom people
reported to be either allied to, or sprung from, the royal family; but
all these particulars were confused in my memory. However, I was much
struck with the conversation I had had with the comte de la Marche; and
when next the conversation fell on this mysterious personage, I asked
the duc de Richelieu what he thought of him.
“Upon my honor,” replied he, “I never could find out who he really was;
not that I did not try,” added he, assuming an air of modest vanity,
which well became his green old age. “I had a mistress of tolerably high
birth, mademoiselle d’Orleans, as indeed I had the honor of having the
princesses, her august sisters. However, the former, known under the
name of mademoiselle de Charollais, was dying to do some act of kindness
that should be agreeable to me. Well, I requested she would obtain from
the regent, her father, the solution of the secret relative to the ‘Iron
Mask.’ She used every possible device, but nothing could she obtain from
her father, who protested that the mystery should never escape his lips;
and he kept his word, he never did divulge it. I even imagine that the
king himself is ignorant of it, unless indeed the cardinal de Fleury
informed him of it.” The maréchal told me afterwards that he thought the
opinion adopted by Voltaire the most probable, viz: that this unknown
person was the son of the queen Anne of Austria, mother of Louis XIV.
These last words helped, in a measure, to resolve the enigma which comte
de la Marche had left me to unravel; and, with a view to satisfy myself
more positively on the subject, I availed myself of the first time I was
alone with the king, to lead the conversation to this story.
At the mention of the “Iron Mask,” Louis XV started. “And do you really
credit such a fable?” asked he.
“Is it then entirely untrue?” inquired I.
“Certainly not,” he replied; “all that has been said on the matter is
destitute of even common sense.”
“Well,” cried I, “what your majesty says only confirms what I heard from
the maréchal de Richelieu.”
“And what has he been telling you?”
“Very little, sire; he told me only, that the secret of who the ‘Iron
Mask’ really was had not been communicated to you.”
“The maréchal is a simpleton if he tells you so. I know the whole
affair, and was well acquainted with the unhappy business.”
“Ah!” exclaimed I, clapping my hands in triumph, “just now you affected
perfect ignorance; you knew nothing at all about it, and now--”
“You are a very dangerous woman,” cried the king, interrupting me by
loud fits of laughter, “and you are cunning enough even to surprise the
secrets of the state.”
“‘Tis you, rather, who could not resist the inclination to let me see
that you knew what the maréchal had declared you ignorant of. Which of
us two is the more to blame, I wonder?”
“Myself, I think,” answered the king; “for after all, you did but
act with the candor and curiosity of your sex: it was for me to
have employed more of the prudence of a king in my replies to your
interrogatories.”
“Well, but,” said I, “since you really do know all about this man with
the iron mask, you will tell it to me, will you not?”
“I should be very careful how I gratified your curiosity,” said he;
“this is a point of history which must never be cleared up; state
reasons require that it should for ever remain a matter of doubt.”
“And _I_ must have you tell me,” returned I; “do pray tell, and I will
love you with all my heart.”
“It cannot be.”
“And why not? This unfortunate person has been long dead without leaving
any posterity.”
“Are you quite sure of that?” inquired the king, in a serious tone.
“But what signifies,” said I, “whether he be dead or alive? I entreat
of you to bestow upon me this proof of your confidence. Who of all those
who have spoken of him have told the truth?”
“Nobody; but Voltaire has approached it more nearly than any one else.”
After this partial confession the king implored of me to change the
conversation, which I could easily perceive was extremely disagreeable
to him. Nevertheless, it seemed to me quite clear, that this celebrated
person belonged to the royal family, but by what title I could not
devise. It was in vain that I afterwards revived the subject; not even
during the most tender confidences could I obtain the information I
desired. Possibly had I lived with him some years more I might have
succeeded in drawing from him all he knew respecting the object of my
curiosity. Old men, like children, can conceal nothing from those they
love, and who have obtained over them an influence they willingly submit
to.
Before I proceed to more important events, I would fain speak of persons
with whom I lived before my elevation. My godfather, M. Billard du
Monceau, was still living, as well as madame Lagarde, with whom I had
resided as companion. My interview with the former is well known; and
the authors of “Anecdotes of My Life,” published thirteen years
since, have strictly adhered to the truth, with the exception of some
vulgarisms they have put into the mouth of that excellent man which he
never uttered.
As to madame Lagarde, she was strangely surprised to see me arrive at
her house; and the evident embarrassment my presence occasioned her was
a sufficient revenge on my part for the many unkind things she had said
and done respecting me. I would not prolong her uncomfortable situation,
but studied to conduct myself with the same unaffected simplicity of
former days. I talked over the past, inquired after her family, and
offered my best services and protection without malice for what was
gone by, and with perfect sincerity for the future. But spite of all
my endeavors to spare her feelings, it was evident that rage and
humiliation at the advantage my altered fortunes gave me over her,
struggled within her, and the conflict of her mind was but too plainly
depicted in her countenance. However, that was the least of my troubles;
I soon restored her to comparative calmness; and before I quitted her,
made her promise she would come and see me.
She would gladly have evaded this request; but her son, the master of
requests, who sufficiently misjudged me to fear my resentment, and who
possessed great influence over her, induced her to present herself at my
house. She accordingly came to call upon me, with a mind bursting with
spite and jealousy; yet she choked down her angry passions, and so far
humbled herself, as to entreat my pardon for her own sake and that of
her family, for all her unkindness towards me. I would not allow her to
finish; “Madame,” said I, “I only allow agreeable recollections to find
a place in my memory; had I entertained the slightest resentment against
either you or yours, you may be quite certain I should not have again
entered your dwelling; and I again repeat the offer I made the other
day, of gladly seizing the first opportunity of being useful to you.”
Each of these words expressive of the kindest feelings towards her was
like the stab of a poniard. She, however, extolled them with the most
exaggerated praise, imploring me to believe how deeply she regretted her
behavior, and talked so long and so much about it, that when she quitted
me, it was with the most certain impression on my mind, that in her I
possessed a most violent and implacable enemy, and in this conclusion I
was quite correct. M. Dudelay, her son, had the effrontery to request
to be presented to me, and charged the excellent M. de Laborde to make
known his wishes to me. I begged he would inform M. Dudelay, that I
admitted into the circle of my acquaintance only such as were known
to the king; and that if he thought proper to apply to his majesty,
I should obey his royal will on the subject, whatever it might be. He
justly considered this repulse as a biting raillery, for which he never
forgave me. I entertained no ill will against him for his past perfidy,
but I considered it strange that he should presume to approach me with
familiarity. I should not have adopted the same line of conduct towards
the farmer-general, his brother, who, less assuming, contented himself
with assuring me of his devotion, and the sincere regret with which he
contemplated the past, without ever seeking to introduce himself into my
presence.