Journey to Poitou.--The Mayor and the Sheriffs of Orleans.--The
Marquise's Modesty.--The Serenade.--The Abbey of Fontevrault.--Family
Council.--Duchomania.--A Letter to the King.--The Bishop of
Poitiers.--The Young Vicar.--Rather Give Him a Regiment.--The Fete at the
Convent.--The Presentation.--The Revolt.--A Grand Example.
The Abbess of Fontevrault, who, when a mere nun, could never bear her
profession, now loved it with all her heart, doubtless because of the
authority and freedom which she possessed, being at liberty to go or come
at will, and as absolute mistress of her actions, accountable to no one
for these.
She sent me her confidential woman, one of the "travelling sisters" of
the community, to tell me privately that the Principality of Talmont was
going to be sold, and to offer me her help at this important juncture.
Her letter, duly tied up and sealed, begged me to be bold and use my
authority, if necessary, in order to induce the King at last to give his
approval and consent. "What!" she wrote, "my dear sister; you have given
birth to eight children, the youngest of which is a marvel, and you have
not yet got your reward. All your children enjoy the rank of prince, and
you, their mother, are exempt from such distinction! What is the King
thinking about? Does it add to his dignity, honour, and glory that you
should still be merely a petty marquise? I ask again, what is the King
thinking of?"
In conclusion my sister invited me to pay a visit to her charming abbey.
"We have much to tell you," said she, and "such brief absence is needful
to you, so as to test the King's affection. Your sort of temperament
suits him, your talk amuses him; in fact, your society is absolutely
essential to him; the distance from Versailles to Saumur would seem to
him as far off as the uttermost end of his kingdom. He will send courier
upon courier to you; each of his letters will be a sort of entreaty, and
you have only just got to express your firm intention and desire to be
created a duchess or a princess, and, my dear sister, it will forthwith
be done."
For two days I trained the travelling nun from Fontevrault in her part,
and then I suddenly presented her to the King. She had the honour of
explaining to his Majesty that she had left the Abbess sick and ailing,
and informed him that my sister was most anxious to see me again, and
that she hoped his Majesty would not object to my paying her a short
visit. For a moment the King hesitated; then he asked me if I thought
such a change of urgent necessity. I replied that the news of Madame de
Mortemart's ill-health had greatly affected me, and I promised not to be
away more than a week.
The King accordingly instructed the Marquis de Louvois--[Minister of War,
and inspector-General of Posts and Relays.]--to make all due arrangements
for my journey, and two days afterwards, my sister De Thianges, her
daughter the Duchesse de Nevers, and myself, set out at night for
Poitiers.
The royal relays took us as far as Orleans, after which we had
post-horses, but specially chosen and well harnessed. Couriers in
advance of us had given all necessary orders to the officials and
governors, so that we were provided with an efficient military escort
along the road, and were as safe as if driving through Paris.
At Orleans, the mayor and sheriffs in full dress presented themselves at
our carriage window, and were about to deliver an address "to please the
King;" but I thought such a proceeding ill-timed, and my niece De Nevers
told these magnates that we were travelling incognito.
Crowds collected below our balcony. Madame de Thianges thought they were
going to serenade me, but I distinctly heard sounds of hissing. My niece
De Nevers was greatly upset; she would eat no supper, but began to cry.
"What are you worrying about?" quoth I to this excitable young person.
"Don't you see that we are stopping the night on the estates of the
Princess Palatine,--[The boorish Bavarian princess, the Duc d'Orleans's
second wife. EDITOR'S NOTE.]--and that it is to her exquisite breeding
that we owe compliments of this kind?"
Next morning at daybreak we drove on, and the day after we reached
Fontevrault. The Abbess, accompanied by her entire community, came to
welcome us at the main gate, and her surpliced chaplains offered me holy
water.
After rest and refreshment, we made a detailed survey of her little
empire, and everywhere observed traces of her good management and tact.
Rules had been made more lenient, while not relaxed; the revenues had
increased; everywhere embellishments, contentment, and well-being were
noticeable.
After praising the Abbess as she deserved, we talked a little about the
Talmont principality. My sister was inconsolable. The Tremouilles had
come into property which restored their shattered fortunes; the
principality was no longer for sale; all thought of securing it must be
given up.
Strange to say, I at once felt consoled by such news. Rightly to explain
this feeling, I ought, perhaps, to make an avowal. A grand and brilliant
title had indeed ever been the object of my ambition; but I thought that
I deserved such a distinction personally, for my own sake, and I was
always wishing that my august friend would create a title specially in my
favour. I had often hinted at such a thing in various ways, and full as
he is of wit and penetration, he always listened to my covert
suggestions, and was perfectly aware of my desire. And yet,
magnificently generous as any mortal well could be, he never granted my
wish. Any one else but myself would have been tired, disheartened even;
but at Court one must never be discouraged nor give up the game. The
atmosphere is rife with vicissitude and change. Monotony would seem to
have made there its home; yet no day is quite like another. What one
hopes for is too long in coming; and what one never foresees on, a sudden
comes to pass.
We took counsel together as to the best thing to be done. Madame de
Thianges said to me: "My dear Athenais, you have the elegance of the
Mortemarts, the fine perception and ready wit that distinguishes them,
but strangely enough you have not their energy, nor the firm will
necessary for the conduct of weighty matters. The King does not treat
you like a great friend, like a distinguished friend, like the mother of
his son, the Duc du Maine; he treats you like a province that he has
conquered, on which he levies tax after tax; that is all. Pray
recollect, my sister, that for ten years you have played a leading part
on the grand stage. Your beauty, to my surprise, has been preserved to
you, notwithstanding your numerous confinements and the fatigues of your
position. Profit by the present juncture, and do not let the chance
slip. You must write to the King, and on some pretext or other, ask for
another week's leave. You must tell him plainly that you have been
marquise long enough, and that the moment has come at last for you to
have the 'imperiale', and sign your name in proper style."
[The distinctive mark of duchesses was the 'imperiale'; that is, a rich
and costly hammer-cloth of embroidered velvet, edged with gold, which
covered the roofs of ducal equipages.--EDITOR'S NOTE.]
Her advice was considered sound, but the Abbess, taking into account the
King's susceptibility, decided that it would not do for me to write
myself about a matter so important as this. The Marquise de Thianges, in
some way or other, had got the knack of plain speaking, so that a letter
of hers would be more readily excused. Thus it was settled that she
should write; and write she did. I give her letter verbatim, as it will
please my readers; and they will agree with me that I could never have
touched this delicate subject so happily myself.
SIRE:--Madame de Montespan had the honour of writing one or two notes to
you during our journey, and now she rests all day long in this vast and
pleasant abbey, where your Majesty's name is held in as great veneration
as elsewhere, being beloved as deeply as at Versailles. Madame de
Mortemart has caused one of the best portraits of your Majesty, done by
Mignard, to be brought hither from Paris, and this magnificent personage
in royal robes is placed beneath an amaranth-coloured dais, richly
embroidered with gold, at the extreme end of a vast hall, which bears the
name of our illustrious and well-beloved monarch. Your privileges are
great, in truth, Sire. Here you are, installed in this pious and
secluded retreat, where never mortal may set foot. Before you, beside
you daily, you may contemplate the multitude of modest virgins who look
at you and admire you, becoming all of them attached to you without
wishing it, perhaps without knowing it, even.
Surely, Sire, your penetration is a most admirable thing. After your
first interview with her, you considered our dear Abbess to be a woman of
capacity and talent. You rightly appreciated her, for nothing can be
compared to the perfect order that prevails in her house. She is active
and industrious without sacrificing her position and her dignity in the
slightest. Like yourself, she can judge of things in their entirety, and
examine them in every little detail; like yourself, she knows how to
command obedience and affection, desiring nothing but that which is just
and reasonable. In a word, Sire, Madame de Mortemart has the secret of
convincing her subordinates that she is acting solely in their interests,
a supreme mission, in sooth, among men; and my sister really has no other
desire nor ambition,--to this we can testify.
Upon our return, which for our liking can never be too soon, we will
acquaint your Majesty with the slight authorised mortification which we
had to put up with at Orleans. We are in possession of certain
information regarding this, and your Majesty will have ample means of
throwing a light upon the subject. As for the magistrates, they behaved
most wonderfully; they had an address all ready for us, but Madame de
Montespan would not listen to it, saying that "such honours are meet only
for you and for your children." Such modesty on my sister's part is in
keeping with her great intelligence; I had almost said her genius. But
in this matter I was not wholly of her opinion. It seemed to me, Sire,
that, in refusing the homage offered to her by these worthy magnates,
she, so to speak, disowned the rank ensured to her by your favour. While
the Marquise enjoys your noble affection, she is no ordinary personage.
She has her seat in your own Chapel Royal, so in travelling she has a
right to special honour. By your choice of her, you have made her
notable; in giving her your heart, you have made her a part of yourself.
By giving birth to your children, she has acquired her rank at Court, in
society, and in history. Your Majesty intends her to be considered and
respected; the escorts of cavalry along the highroads are sufficient
proof of that.
All France, Sire, is aware of your munificence and of your princely
generosity: Shall I tell you of the amazement of the provincials at
noticing that the ducal housings are absent from my sister's splendid
coach? Yes, I have taken upon myself to inform you of this surprise, and
knowing how greatly Athenais desires this omission to be repaired, I went
so far as to promise that your Majesty would cause this to be done
forthwith. It must be done, Sire; the Marquise loves you as much as it
is possible for you to be loved; of this, all that she has sacrificed is
a proof. But while dearly loving you, she fears to appear importunate,
and were it not for my respectful freedom of speech, perhaps you would
still be ignorant of that which she most fervently desires.
What we all three of us ask is but a slight thing for your Majesty, who,
with a single word, can create a thousand nobles and princes. The kings,
your ancestors, used their glory in making their lovers illustrious. The
Valois built temples and palaces in their honour. You, greater than all
the Valois, should not let their example suffice. And I am sure that you
will do for the mother of the Duc du Maine what the young prince himself
would do for her if you should happen to forget.
Your Majesty's most humble servant, "MARQUISE DE THIANGES."
To the Abbess and myself; this ending seemed rather too sarcastic, but
Madame de Thianges was most anxious to let it stand. There was no way of
softening or glossing it over; so the letter went off, just as she had
written it.
It so happened that the Bishop of Poitiers was in his diocese at the
time. He came to pay me a visit, and ask me if I could get an abbey for
his nephew, who, though extremely young, already acted as vicar-general
for him. "I would willingly get him a whole regiment," I replied,
"provided M. de Louvois be of those that are my friends. As for the
benefices, they depend, as you know, upon the Pere de la Chaise, and I
don't think he would be willing to grant me a favour."
"Permit me to assure you, madame, that in this respect you are in error,"
replied the Bishop. "Pere de la Chaise respects you and honours you, and
only speaks of you in such terms. What distresses him is to see that you
have an aversion for him. Let me write to him, and say that my nephew
has had the honour of being presented to you, and that you hoped he might
have a wealthy abbey to enable him to bear the privations of his
calling."
The young vicar-general was good-looking, and of graceful presence. He
had that distinction of manner which causes the priesthood to be held in
honour, and that amenity of address which makes the law to be obeyed. My
sisters began to take a fancy to him, and recommended him to me. I wrote
to Pere de la Chaise myself, and instead of a mere abbey, we asked for a
bishopric for him.
It was my intention to organise a brilliant fete for the Fontevrault
ladies, and invite all the nobility of the neighbourhood. We talked of
this to the young vicar, who highly approved of my plan, and albeit
monsieur his uncle thought such a scheme somewhat contrary to rule and to
what he termed the proprieties, we made use of his nephew, the young
priest, as a lever; and M. de Poitiers at last consented to everything.
The Fontevrault gardens are one of the most splendid sights in all the
country round. We chose the large alley as our chief entertainment-hall,
and the trees were all illuminated as in my park at Clagny, or at
Versailles. There was no dancing, on account of the nuns, but during our
repast there was music, and a concert and fireworks afterwards. The fete
ended with a performance of "Genevieve de Brabant," a grand spectacular
pantomime, played to perfection by certain gentry of the neighbourhood;
it made a great impression upon all the nuns and novices.
Before going down into the gardens, the Abbess wished to present me
formally to all the nuns, as well as to those persons it had pleased her
to invite. Imagine her astonishment! Three nuns were absent, and
despite our entreaties and the commands of their superiors, they
persisted in their rebellion and their refusal. They set up to keep
rules before all things, and observe the duties of their religion, lying
thus to their Abbess and their conscience. It was all mere spite. Of
this there can be no doubt, for one of these refractory creatures, as it
transpired, was a cousin of the Marquis de Lauzun, my so-called victim;
while the other two were near relatives of Mademoiselle de Mauldon, an
intimate friend of M. de Meaux.
In spite of these three silly absentees, we enjoyed ourselves greatly,
and had much innocent amusement; while they, who could watch us from
their windows, were probably mad with rage to think they were not of our
number.
My sister complained of them to the Bishop of Poitiers, who severely
blamed them for such conduct; and seeing that he could not induce them to
offer me an apology, sent them away to three different convents.