The Queen of Spain, for a long time violently attacked with the king's
evil around the face and neck, was just now at the point of death.
Obtaining no relief from the Spanish doctors, she wished to have
Helvetius, and begged the King by an express command to send him to her.
Helvetius, much inconvenienced, and knowing besides the condition of the
Princess, did not wish to go, but the King expressly commanded him.
He set out then in a postchaise, followed by another in case his own
should break down, and arrived thus at Madrid on the 11th of February,
1714. As soon as he had seen the Queen, he said there was nothing but
a miracle could save her. The King of Spain did not discontinue sleeping
with her until the 9th. On the 14th she died, with much courage,
consciousness, and piety.
Despair was general in Spain, where this Queen was universally adored.
There was not a family which did not lament her, not a person who has
since been consoled. The King of Spain was extremely touched, but
somewhat in a royal manner. Thus, when out shooting one day, he came
close to the convoy by which the body of his queen was being conveyed to
the Escurial; he looked at it, followed it with his eyes, and continued
his sport! Are these princes made like other human beings?
The death of the Queen led to amazing changes, such as the most prophetic
could not have foreseen. Let me here, then, relate the events that
followed this misfortune.
I must commence by saying, that the principal cause which had so long and
scandalously hindered us from making peace with the Emperor, was a
condition, which Madame des Ursins wished to insert in the treaty, (and
which the King of Spain supported through thick and thin) to the effect
that she should be invested with a bona fide sovereignty. She had set
her heart upon this, and the king of Spain was a long time before he
would consent to any terms of peace that did not concede it to her. It
was not until the King had uttered threats against him that he would give
way. As for Madame des Ursins, she had counted upon this sovereignty ,
with as much certainty as though it were already between her fingers.
She had counted, too, with equal certainty upon exchanging it with our
King, for the sovereignty of Touraine and the Amboise country; and had
actually charged her faithful Aubigny to buy her some land near Amboise
to build her there a vast palace, with courts and outbuildings; to
furnish it with magnificence, to spare neither gilding nor paintings, and
to surround the whole with the most beautiful gardens. She meant to live
there as sovereign lady of the country. Aubigny had at once set about
the work to the surprise of everybody: for no one could imagine for whom
such a grand building could be designed. He kept the secret, pretended
he was building a house for himself and pushed on the work so rapidly
that just as peace was concluded without the stipulation respecting
Madame des Ursins being inserted in the treaty, nearly all was finished.
Her sovereignty scheme thoroughly failed; and to finish at once with that
mad idea, I may as well state that, ashamed of her failure, she gave this
palace to Aubigny, who lived there all the rest of his life: Chanteloup,
for so it was called, has since passed into the hands of Madame
d'Armantieres, his daughter. It is one of the most beautiful and most
singular places in all France, and the most superbly furnished.
This sovereignty, coveted by Madame des Ursins, exceedingly offended
Madame de Maintenon and wounded her pride. She felt, with jealousy, that
the grand airs Madame des Ursins gave herself were solely the effect of
the protection she had accorded her. She could not bear to be
outstripped in importance by the woman she herself had elevated. The
King, too, was much vexed with Madame des Ursins; vexed also to see peace
delayed; and to be obliged to speak with authority and menace to the King
of Spain, in order to compel him to give up the idea of this precious
sovereignty. The King of Spain did not yield until he was threatened
with abandonment by France. It may be imagined what was the rage of
Madame des Ursins upon missing her mark after having, before the eyes
of all Europe, fired at it with so much perseverance; nay, with such
unmeasured obstinacy. From this time there was no longer the same
concert between Madame de Maintenon and Madame des Ursins that had
formerly existed. But the latter had reached such a point in Spain,
that she thought this was of no consequence.
It has been seen with what art Madame des Ursins had unceasingly isolated
the King of Spain; in what manner she had shut him up with the Queen, and
rendered him inaccessible, not only to his Court but to his grand
officers, his ministers, even his valets, so that he was served by only
three or four attendants, all French, and entirely under her thumb. At
the death of the Queen this solitude continued. Under the pretext that
his grief demanded privacy, she persuaded the King to leave his palace
and to instal himself in a quiet retreat, the Palace of Medina-Celi, near
the Buen-Retiro, at the other end of the city. She preferred this
because it was infinitely smaller than the Royal Palace, and because few
people, in consequence, could approach the King. She herself took the
Queen's place; and in order to have a sort of pretext for being near the
King, in the same solitude, she caused herself to be named governess of
his children. But in order to be always there, and so that nobody should
know when they were together, she had a large wooden corridor made from
the cabinet of the King to the apartment of his children, in which she
lodged. By this means they could pass from one to the other without
being perceived, and without traversing the long suite of rooms, filled
with courtiers, that were between the two apartments. In this manner it
was never known whether the King was alone or with Madame des Ursins;
or which of the two was in the apartments of the other. When they were
together or how long is equally unknown. This corridor, roofed and
glazed, was proceeded with in so much haste, that the work went on, in
spite of the King's devotion, on fete days and Sundays. The whole Court,
which perfectly well knew for what use this corridor was intended, was
much displeased. Those who directed the work were the same. Of this
good proof was given. One day, the Comptroller of the royal buildings,
who had been ordered to keep the men hard at it, Sundays and fete days,
asked the Pere Robinet, the King's confessor, and the only good one he
ever had; he asked, I say, in one of those rooms Madame des Ursins was so
anxious to avoid, and in the presence of various courtiers, if the work
was to be continued on the morrow, a Sunday, and the next day, the Fete
of the Virgin. Robinet replied, that the King had said nothing to the
contrary; and met a second appeal with the same answer. At the third, he
added, that before saying anything he would wait till the King spoke on
the subject. At the fourth appeal, he lost patience, and said that if
for the purpose of destroying what had been commenced, he believed work
might be done even on Easter-day itself; but if for the purpose of
continuing the corridor, he did not think a Sunday or a fete day was a
fitting time. All the Court applauded; but Madame des Ursins, to whom
this sally was soon carried, was much irritated.
It was suspected that she thought of becoming something more than the
mere companion of the King. There were several princes. Reports were
spread which appeared equivocal and which terrified. It was said that
the King had no need of posterity, with all the children it had pleased
God to bless him with; but now he only needed a wife who could take
charge of those children. Not content with passing all her days with the
King, and allowing him, like the deceased Queen, to work with his
ministers only in her presence, the Princesse des Ursins felt that to
render this habit lasting she must assure herself of him at all moments.
He was accustomed to take the air, and he was in want of it all the more
now because he had been much shut up during the last days of the Queen's
illness, and the first which followed her death. Madame des Ursins chose
four or five gentlemen to accompany him, to the exclusion of all others,
even his chief officers, and people still more necessary. These
gentlemen charged with the amusement of the King, were called
recreadores. With so much circumspection, importunity, preparation, and
rumour carefully circulated, it was not doubted that Madame des Ursins
intended to marry him; and the opinion, as well as the fear, became
general. The King (Louis XIV.), was infinitely alarmed; and Madame de
Maintenon, who had twice tried to be proclaimed Queen and twice failed,
was distracted with jealousy. However, if Madame des Ursins flattered
herself then, it was not for long.
The King of Spain, always curious to learn the news from France, often
demanded them of his confessor, the only man to whom he could speak who
was not under the thumb of Madame des Ursins. The clever and courageous
Robinet, as disturbed as others at the progress of the design, which
nobody in the two Courts of France and Spain doubted was in execution,
allowed himself to be pressed by questions--in an embrasure where the
King had drawn him--played the reserved and the mysterious in order to
excite curiosity more. When he saw it was sufficiently excited, he said
that since he was forced to speak, his news from France was the same as
that at Madrid, where no one doubted that the King would do the Princesse
des Ursins the honour to espouse her. The King blushed and hastily
replied, "Marry her! oh no! not that!" and quitted him.
Whether the Princesse des Ursins was informed of this sharp repartee, or
whether she despaired already of success, she changed about; and judging
that this interregnum in the Palace of Medina-Celi could not last for
ever, resolved to assure herself of the King by a Queen who should owe to
her such a grand marriage, and who, having no other support, would throw
herself into her arms by gratitude and necessity. With this view she
explained herself to Alberoni, who, since the death of the Duc de
Vendome, had remained at Madrid charged with the affairs of Parma; and
proposed to him the marriage of the Princess of Parma, daughter of the
Duchess and of the late Duke of Parma, who had married the widow of his
brother.
Alberoni could with difficulty believe his ears. An alliance so
disproportioned appeared to him so much the more incredible, because he
thought the. Court of France would never consent to it, and that without
its consent the marriage could not be concluded. The Princess in
question was the issue of double illegitimacy; by her father descended
from a pope, by her mother from a natural daughter of Charles Quint. She
was daughter of a petty Duke of Parma, and of a mother, entirely
Austrian, sister of the Dowager Empress and of the Dowager Queen of Spain
(whose acts had excited such disapproval that she was sent from her exile
at Toledo to Bayonne), sister too of the Queen of Portugal, who had
induced the King, her husband, to receive the Archduke at Lisbon, and to
carry the war into Spain. It did not seem reasonable, therefore, that
such a Princess would be accepted as a wife for the King of Spain.
Nothing of all this, however, stopped the Princesse des Ursins; her own
interest was the most pressing consideration with her; the will of the
King of Spain was entirely subject to her; she felt all the change
towards her of our King and of Madame de Maintenon; she no longer hoped
for a return of their favour; she believed that she must look around for
support against the very authority which had established her so
powerfully, and which could destroy her; and occupied herself solely in
pushing forward a marriage from which she expected everything by making
the same use of the new queen as she had made of the one just dead. The
King of Spain was devout, he absolutely wanted a wife, the Princesse des
Ursins was of an age when her charms were but the charms, of art; in a
word, she set Alberoni to work, and it may be believed she was not
scrupulous as to her means as soon as they were persuaded at Parma that
she was serious and not joking. Orry, always united with Madame des
Ursins, and all-powerful, by her means, was her sole confidant in this
important affair.
At that time the Marquis de Brancas was French ambassador at Madrid. He
had flattered himself that Madame des Ursins would make him one of the
grandees of Spain. Instead of doing so she simply bestowed upon him the
order of the Golden Fleece. He had never pardoned her for this.
Entirely devoted to Madame de Maintenon, he became on that very account
an object of suspicion to Madame des Ursins, who did not doubt that he
cherished a grudge against her, on account of the favour he had missed.
She allowed him no access to her, and had her eyes open upon all he did.
Brancas in like manner watched all her doings. The confessor, Robinet,
confided to him his fears respecting Madame des Ursins, and the chiefs of
a court universally discontented went and opened their hearts to him,
thinking it was France alone which could set to rights the situation of
Spain.
Brancas appreciated all the importance of what was told him, but warned
by the fate of the Abbe d'Estrees, fearing even for his couriers, he took
the precaution of sending word to the King that he had pressing business
to acquaint him with, which he could not trust to paper, and that he
wished to be allowed to come to Versailles for a fortnight. The reply
was the permission asked for, accompanied, however, with an order to
communicate en route with the Duc de Berwick, who was about to pass to
Barcelona.
Madame des Ursins, who always found means to be informed of everything,
immediately knew of Brancas's projected journey, and determined to get
the start of him. At once she had sixteen relays of mules provided upon
the Bayonne road, and suddenly sent off to France, on Holy Thursday,
Cardinal del Giudice, grand inquisitor and minister of state, who had
this mean complaisance for her. She thus struck two blows at once; she
got rid, at least for a time, of a Cardinal minister who troubled her,
and anticipated Brancas, which in our Court was no small point.
Brancas, who felt all the importance of arriving first, followed the
Cardinal on Good Friday, and moved so well that he overtook him at
Bayonne, at night while he was asleep; Brancas passed straight on,
charging the Commandant to amuse and to delay the Cardinal as long as
possible on the morrow; gained ground, and arrived at Bordeaux with
twenty-eight post-horses that he had carried off with him from various
stations, to keep them from the Cardinal. He arrived in Paris in this
manner two days before the other, and went straight to Marly where the
King was, to explain the business that had led him there. He had a long
audience with the King, and received a lodging for the rest of the visit.
The Cardinal del Giudice rested four or five days at Paris, and then came
to Marly, where he was introduced to the King. The Cardinal was somewhat
embarrassed; he was charged with no business; all his mission was to
praise Madame des Ursins, and complain of the Marquis de Brancas. These
praises of Madame des Ursins were but vague; she had not sufficient
confidence in the Cardinal to admit to him her real position in our
Court, and to give him instructions accordingly, so that what he had to
say was soon all said; against the Marquis de Brancas he had really no
fact to allege, his sole crime that he was too sharp-sighted and not
sufficiently devoted to the Princess.
The Cardinal was a courtier, a man of talent, of business, of intrigue,
who felt, with annoyance, that for a person of his condition and weight,
such a commission as he bore was very empty. He appeared exceedingly
agreeable in conversation, of pleasant manners, and was much liked in
good society. He was assiduous in his attentions to the King, without
importuning him for audiences that were unnecessary; and by all his
conduct, he gave reason for believing that he suspected Madame des
Ursins' decadence in our Court, and sought to gain esteem and confidence,
so as to become by the support of the King, prime minister in Spain; but
as we shall soon see, his ultramontane hobbies hindered the
accomplishment of his measures. All the success of his journey consisted
in hindering Brancas from returning to Spain. This was no great
punishment, for Brancas had nothing more to hope for from Madame des
Ursins, and was not a man to lose his time for nothing.
Up to this period not a word had been said to the King (Louis XIV.) by
the King of Spain upon the subject of his marriage; not a hint had been
given that he meant to remarry, much less with a Parma princess. This
proceeding, grafted upon the sovereignty claimed by the Princesse des
Ursine, and all her conduct with the King of Spain since the death of the
Queen, resolved our King to disgrace her without appeal.
A remark upon Madame des Ursins, accompanied by a smile, escaped from the
King, generally so complete a master of himself, and appeared enigmatical
to such an extent, although striking, that Torcy, to wham it was
addressed, understood nothing. In his surprise, he related to Castries
what the King had said; Castries told it to Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans,
who reported it to M. d'Orleans and to me. We racked our brains to
comprehend it, but in vain; nevertheless such an unintelligible remark
upon a person like Madame des Ursins, who up to this time had been on
such good terms with the King and Madame de Maintenon, did not appear to
me to be favourable. I was confirmed in this view by what had just
happened with regard to her sovereignty; but I was a thousand leagues
from the thunderbolt which this lightning announced, and which only
declared itself to us by its fall.
It wits not until the 27th of June that the King was made acquainted by
the King of Spain with his approaching marriage. Of course, through
other channels, he had not failed to hear of it long before. He passed
in the lightest and gentlest manner in the world over this project, and
the mystery so long and so complete! with which it had been kept from
him, stranger, if possible, than the marriage itself. He could not
hinder it; but from this moment he was sure of his vengeance against her
who had arranged and brought it about in this manner. The disgrace of
Madame des Ursine was in fact determined on between the King and Madame
de Maintenon, but in a manner a secret before and since, that I know
nobody who has found out by whom or how it was carried out. It is good
to admit our ignorance, and not to give fictions and inventions in place
of what we are unacquainted with.
I know not why, but a short time after this, the Princesse des Ursine
conceived such strong suspicion of the lofty and enterprising spirit of
the Princess of Parma that she repented having made this marriage; and
wished to break it off. She brought forward; therefore, I know not what
difficulties, and despatched a courier to Rome to Cardinal Acquaviva, who
did the King of Spain's business there, ordering him to delay his journey
to Parma, where he had been commanded to ask the hand of the Princess,
and to see her provisionally espoused. But Madame des Ursins
had changed her mind too late. The courier did not find Acquaviva at
Rome. That Cardinal was already far away on the road to Parma, so that
there were no means of retreat.
Acquaviva was received with great honour and much magnificence; he made
his demand, but delayed the espousals as long as he could, and this
caused much remark. The marriage, which was to have been celebrated on
the 25th of August, did not take place until the 15th of September.
Immediately after the ceremony the new Queen set out for Spain.
An envoy from Parma, with news of the marriage of the Princess, arrived
at Fontainebleau on the 11th October, and had an audience with the King.
This was rather late in the day: For dowry she had one hundred thousand
pistoles, and three hundred thousand livres' worth of jewels. She had
embarked for Alicante at Sestri di Levante. A violent tempest sickened
her of the sea. She landed, therefore, at Monaco, in order to traverse
by land Provence, Languedoc, and Guienne, so as to reach Bayonne, and see
there the Queen Dowager of Spain; sister of her mother, and widow of
Charles II. Desgranges, master of the ceremonies, was to meet her in
Provence, with orders to follow her, and to command the governors,
lieutenants-general, and intendants to follow her also, and serve her,
though she travelled incognito.
The new Queen of Spain, on arriving at Pau, found the Queen Dowager, her
aunt, had come expressly from Bayonne to meet her. As they approached
each other, they both descended at the same time, and after saluting,
mounted alone into a beautiful caleche that the Queen Dowager had brought
with her, and that she presented to her niece. They supped together
alone. The Queen Dowager conducted her to Saint-Jean Pied-de-Port (for
in that country, as in Spain, the entrances to mountain passes are called
ports). They separated there, the Queen Dowager making the Queen many
presents, among others a garniture of diamonds. The Duc de Saint-Aignan
joined the Queen of Spain at Pau, and accompanied her by command of the
King to Madrid. She sent Grillo, a Genoese noble, whom she has since
made grandee of Spain, to thank the King for sending her the Duc de
Saint-Aignan, and for the present he brought with him. The officers of
her household had been named by Madame des Ursins.
The Queen of Spain advanced towards Madrid with the attendants sent to
accompany her. She was to be met by the King of Spain at Guadalaxara,
which is about the same distance from Madrid as Paris is from
Fontainebleau. He arrived there, accompanied by the attendants that the
Princesse des Ursins had placed near him, to keep him company, and to
allow no one else to approach him. She followed in her coach, so as to
arrive at the same time, and immediately afterwards he shut himself up
alone with her, and saw nobody until he went to bed. This was on the
22nd of December. The next day the Princesse des Ursins set out with a
small suite for a little place, seven leagues further, called Quadraque,
where the Queen was to sleep that night. Madame des Ursins counted upon
enjoying all the gratitude that the queen would feel for the unhoped-for
grandeur she had obtained by her means; counted upon passing the evening
with her, and upon accompanying her next day to Guadalaxara. She found,
upon arriving at Quadraque, that the Queen had already reached there.
She at once entered into a lodging that had been prepared for her,
opposite that of the Queen. She was in a full Court dress. After
adjusting it in a hurried manner, she went to the Queen. The coldness
and stiffness of her reception surprised her extremely. She attributed
it in the first place to the embarrassment of the Queen, and tried to
melt this ice. Everybody withdrew, in order to leave the two alone.
Then the conversation commenced. The Queen would not long allow Madame
des Ursins to continue it; but burst out into reproaches against her for
her manners, and for appearing there in a dress that showed want of
respect for the company she was in. Madame des Ursins, whose dress was
proper, and who, on account of her respectful manners and her discourse,
calculated to win the Queen, believed herself to be far from meriting
this treatment, was strangely surprised, and wished to excuse herself;
but the Queen immediately began to utter offensive words, to cry out, to
call aloud, to demand the officers of the guard, and sharply to; command
Madame des Ursins to leave her presence. The latter wished to speak and
defend herself against the reproaches she heard; but the Queen,
increasing her fury and her menaces, cried out to her people to drive
this mad woman from her presence and from the house; and absolutely had
her turned out by the shoulders. Immediately afterwards, she called
Amenzaga, lieutenant of the body-guard, and at the same time the ecuyer
who had the control of her equipages. She ordered the first to arrest
Madame des Ursins, and not quit her until he had placed her in a coach,
with two sure officers of the guard and fifteen soldiers as sentinels
over her; the second she commanded to provide instantly a coach and six,
with two or three footmen, and send off in it the Princesse des Ursins
towards Burgos and Bayonne, without once stopping on the road. Amenzago
tried to represent to the Queen that the King of Spain alone had the
power to give such commands; but she haughtily asked him if he had not
received an order from the King of Spain to obey her in everything,
without reserve and without comment. It was true he had received such an
order, though nobody knew a word about it.
Madame des Ursins was then immediately arrested, and put into a coach
with one of her waiting-women, without having had time to change her
costume or her head-dress, to take any precaution against the cold, to
provide herself with any money or other things, and without any kind of
refreshment in the coach, or a chemise; nothing, in fact, to change or to
sleep in! She was shipped off thus (with two officers of the guard; who
were ready as soon as the coach), in full Court dress, just as she left
the Queen. In the very short and tumultuous interval which elapsed, she
sent a message to the Queen, who flew into a fresh passion upon not being
obeyed, and made her set out immediately.
It was then nearly seven o'clock in the evening, two days before
Christmas, the ground all covered with snow and ice, and the cold extreme
and very sharp and bitter, as it always is in Spain. As soon as the
Queen learned that the Princesse des Ursins was out of Quadraque, she
wrote to the King of Spain, by an officer of the guards whom she
despatched to Guadalaxara. The night was so dark that it was only by
means of the snow that anything could be seen.
It is not easy to represent the state of Madame des Ursins in the coach.
An excess of astonishment and bewilderment prevailed at first, and
suspended all other sentiment; but grief, vexation, rage, and despair,
soon followed. In their turn succeeded sad and profound reflections upon
a step so violent, so unheard-of, and so unjustifiable as she thought.
Then she hoped everything from the friendship of the King of Spain and
his confidence in her; pictured his anger and surprise, and those of the
group of attached servitors, by whom she had surrounded him, and who
would be so interested in exciting the King in her favour. The long
winter's night pissed thus; the cold was, terrible, there was nothing to
ward it off; the coachman actually lost the use of one hand. The morning
advanced; a halt was necessary in order to bait the horses; as for the
travellers there is nothing for them ever in the Spanish inns. You are
simply told where each thing you want is sold. The meat is ordinarily
alive; the wine, thick, flat, and strong; the bread bad; the water is
often worthless; as to beds, there are some, but only for the mule-
drivers, so that you must carry everything with you, and neither Madame
des Ursins nor those with her had anything whatever. Eggs, where they
could find any, were their sole resource; and these, fresh or not, simply
boiled, supported them during all the journey.
Until this halt for the horses, silence had been profound and
uninterrupted; now it was broken. During all this long night the
Princesse des Ursins had had leisure to think upon the course she should
adopt, and to compose her face. She spoke of her extreme surprise, and
of the little that had passed between her and the Queen. In like manner
the two officers of the guard accustomed, as was all Spain, to fear and
respect her more than their King, replied to her from the bottom of that
abyss of astonishment from which they had not yet arisen. The horses
being put to, the coach soon started again. Soon, too, the Princesse des
Ursins found that the assistance she expected from the King did not
arrive. No rest, no provisions, nothing to put on, until Saint-Jean de
Luz was reached. As she went further on, as time passed and no news
came, she felt she had nothing more to hope for. It may be imagined what
rage succeeded in a woman so ambitious, so accustomed to publicly reign,
so rapidly and shamefully precipitated from the summit of power by the
hand that she herself had chosen as the most solid support of her
grandeur. The Queen had not replied to the last two letters Madame des
Ursins had written to her. This studied negligence was of bad augury,
but who would have imagined treatment so strange and so unheard of?
Her nephews, Lanti and Chalais, who had permission to join her, completed
her dejection. Yet she was faithful to herself. Neither tears nor
regrets, neither reproaches nor the slightest weakness escaped her; not a
complaint even of the excessive cold, of the deprivation of all things,
or of the extreme fatigue of such a journey. The two officers who
guarded her could not contain their admiration.
At Saint-Jean de Luz, where she arrived on the 14th of January, 1715, she
found at last her corporeal ills at an end. She obtained a bed, change
of dress, food, and her liberty. The guards, their officers, and the
coach which had brought her, returned; she remained with her waiting-maid
and her nephews. She had leisure to think what she might expect from
Versailles. In spite of her mad sovereignty scheme so long maintained,
and her hardihood in arranging the King of Spain's marriage without
consulting our King, she flattered herself she should find resources in a
Court she had so long governed. It was from Saint-Jean de Luz that she
despatched a courier charged with letters for the King, for Madame de
Maintenon, and for her friends. She briefly gave us an account in those
letters of the thunderbolt which had fallen on her, and asked permission
to come to the Court to explain herself more in detail. She waited for
the return of her courier in this her first place of liberty and repose,
which of itself is very agreeable. But this first courier despatched,
she sent off Lanti with letters written less hastily, and with
instructions. Lanti saw the King in his cabinet on the last of January,
and remained there some moments. From him it was known that as soon as
Madame des Ursins despatched her first courier, she had sent her
compliments to the Queen Dowager of Spain at Bayonne, who would not
receive them. What cruel mortifications attend a fall from a throne!
Let us now return to Guadalaxara.