The Queen of Spain stayed longer with her mother than our Dauphine, and
therefore was better educated. Maintenon, who understood nothing about
education, permitted her to do whatever she pleased, that she might gain
her affections and keep her to herself. This young lady had been well
brought up by her virtuous mother; she was genteel and humorous, and
could joke very pleasantly: when she had a colour she did not look ugly.
No one can imagine what mad-headed people were about this Princess, and
among the number was the Marechale d'Estrees. Maintenon was very
properly recompensed for having given her these companions; for the
consequence was that the Dauphine no longer liked her society. Maintenon
was very desirous to know the reason of this, and teased the Princess to
tell her. At length she did; and said that the Marechale d'Estrees was
continually asking her, "What are you always doing with that old woman?
Why do you not associate with folks who would amuse you more than that
old skeleton?" and that she said many other uncivil things of her.
Maintenon told me this herself, since the death of the Dauphine, to prove
that it was only the Marechale's fault that the Dauphine had been on such
bad terms with me. This may be partly true; but it is no less certain
that Maintenon had strongly prepossessed her against me. Almost all the
foolish people who were about her were relations or friends of the old
woman; and it was by her order that they endeavoured to amuse her and
employ her, so that she might want no other society.
The young Dauphine was full of pantomime tricks. * * * * She was fond,
too, of collecting a quantity of young persons about her for the King's
amusement, who liked to see their sports; they, however, took care never
to display any but innocent diversions before him: he did not learn the
rest until after her death. The Dauphine used to call old Maintenon her
aunt, but only in jest; the fines d'honneur called her their gouvernante,
and the Marechale de La Mothe, mamma; if the Dauphine had also called
the old woman her mamma, it would have been regarded as a declaration of
the King's marriage; for this reason she only called her aunt.
It is not surprising that the Dauphine, even when she was Duchess of
Burgundy, should have been a coquette. One of Maintenon's maxims was
that there was no harm in coquetry, but that a grande passion only was a
sin. In the second place, she never took care that the Duchess of
Burgundy behaved conformably to her rank; she was often left quite alone
in her chateau with the exception of her people; she was permitted to run
about arm-in-arm with one of her young ladies, without esquires, or dames
d'honneur or d'atour. At Marly and Versailles she was obliged to go to
chapel on foot and without her stays, and seat herself near the femmes de
chambre. At Madame de Maintenon's there was no observance of ranks;
every one sat down there promiscuously; she did this for the purpose of
avoiding all discussion respecting her own rank. At Marly the Dauphine
used to run about the garden at night with the young people until two or
three o'clock in the morning. The King knew nothing of these nocturnal
sports. Maintenon had forbidden the Duchesse de Lude to tease the
Duchess of Burgundy, or to put her out of temper, because then she would
not be able to divert the King. Maintenon had threatened, too, with her
eternal vengeance whoever should be bold enough to complain of the
Dauphine to the King. It was for this reason that no one dared tell the
King what the whole Court and even strangers were perfectly well
acquainted with. The Dauphine liked to be dragged along the ground by
valets, who held her feet. These servants were in the habit of saying to
each other, "Come, shall we go and play with the Duchess of Burgundy?"
for so she was at this time. She was dreadfully nasty,
.............................
She made the Dauphin believe whatever she chose, and he was so fond of
her that one of her glances would throw him into an ecstacy and make him
forget everything. When the King intended to scold her she would put on
an air of such deep dejection that he was obliged to console her instead;
the aunt, too, used to affect similar sorrow, so that the King had enough
to do with consoling them both. Then, for quietness' sake, he used to
lean upon the old aunt, and think nothing more about the matter.
The Dauphine never cared for the Duc de Richelieu, although he boasted of
the contrary, and was sent to the Bastille for it. She was a coquette,
and chatted with all the young men; but if she loved any of them it was
Nangis, who commanded the King's regiment. She had commanded him to
pretend to be in love with little La Vrilliere, who, though not so pretty
nor with so good a presence as the Dauphine, had a better figure and was
a great coquette. This badinage, it is said, afterwards became reality.
The good Dauphin was like the husbands of all frail wives, the last to
perceive it. The Duke of Burgundy never imagined that his wife thought
of Nangis, although it was visible to all the world besides that she did.
As he was very much attached to Nangis, he believed firmly that his wife
only behaved civilly to him on his account; and he was besides convinced
that his favourite had at the same time an affair of gallantry with
Madame la Vrilliere.
The Dauphin had good sense, but he suffered his wife to govern him; he
loved only such persons as she loved, and he hated all who were
disagreeable to her. It was for this reason that Nangia enjoyed so much
of his favour, that he, with all his sense, became so perfectly
ridiculous.
The Dauphine of Burgundy was the person whom the King loved above all
others, and whom Maintenon had taught to do whatever was agreeable to
him. Her natural wit made her soon learn and practise everything. The
King was inconsolable for her death; and when La Maintenon saw that all
she could say had no effect upon his grief, it is said that she told the
King all that she had before concealed with respect to the Dauphine's
life, and by this means dissipated his great affliction.
[This young lady, so fascinating and so dear to the King, betrayed,
nevertheless, the secrets of the State by informing her father, then
Duke of Savoy, and our enemy, of all the military projects which she
found means to read. The King had the proofs of this by the letters
which were found in the Princess's writing case after her death.
"That little slut," said he to Madame Maintenon, "has deceived us."
Memoires de Duclos, tome i.]
Three years before her death, however, the Dauphine changed greatly for
the better; she played no more foolish tricks, and left off drinking to
excess. Instead of that untameable manner which she had before, she
became polite and sensible, kept up her dignity, and did not permit the
younger ladies to be too familiar with her, by dipping their fingers into
her dish, rolling upon the bed, and other similar elegancies. She used
to converse with people, and could talk very well. It was the marriage
of Madame de Berri that effected this surprising change in the Dauphine.
Seeing that young lady did not make herself beloved, and began things in
the wrong way, she was desirous to make herself more liked and esteemed
than she was. She therefore changed her behaviour entirely; she became
reserved and reasonable, and, having sense enough to discover her
defects, she set about correcting them, in which she succeeded so as to
excite general surprise. Thus she continued until her death, and often
expressed regret that she had led so irregular a life. She used to
excuse herself by saying it was mere childishness, and that she had
little to thank those young ladies for who had given her such bad advice
and set her such bad examples. She publicly manifested her contempt for
them, and prevailed on the King not to invite them to Marly in future.
By this conduct she gained everybody's affection.
She was delicate and of rather a weak constitution. Dr. Chirac said in
her last illness that she would recover; and so she probably would have
done if they had not permitted her to get up when the measles had broken
out upon her, and she was in a copious perspiration. Had they not
blooded her in the foot she might have been alive now (1716).
Immediately after the bleeding, her skin, before as red as fire, changed
to the paleness of death, and she became very ill. When they were
lifting her out of bed I told them it was better to let the perspiration
subside before they blooded her. Chirac and Fagon, however, were
obstinate and laughed at me.
Old Maintenon said to me angrily, "Do you think you know better than all
these medical men?"
"No, Madame," I replied; "and one need not know much to be sure that the
inclination of nature ought to be followed; and since that has displayed
itself it would be better to let it have way, than to make a sick person
get up in the midst of a perspiration to be blooded."
She shrugged up her shoulders ironically. I went to the other side and
said nothing.