The Universal Jubilee.--Court Preachers.--King David.--Madame de
Montespan is Obliged to go to Clagny.--Bossuet's Mission.--Mademoiselle
de Mauleon.--An Enemy's Good Faith.
I do not desire to hold up to ridicule the rites of that religion in
which I was born and bred. Neither would I disparage its ancient usages,
nor its far more modern laws. All religions, as I know, have their
peculiarities, all nations their contradictions, but I must be suffered
to complain of the abuse sometimes made in our country of clerical and
priestly authority.
A general jubilee was held soon after the birth of my second son, and
among Christian nations like ours, a jubilee is as if one said, "Now all
statutes, divine and earthly, are repealed; by means of certain formula
recited, certain visits paid to the temples, certain acts of abstinence
practised here and there, all sins, misdemeanours, and crimes are
forgiven, and their punishment cancelled." It is generally on the
occasion of the proclamation of a new pontificate at Rome that such great
papal absolutions are extended over the whole universe.
The jubilee having been proclaimed in Paris, the Court preachers worked
miracles. They denounced all social irregularities and friendships of
which the Church disapproved. The opening sermon showed plainly that the
orator's eloquence was pointed at myself. The second preacher showed
even less restraint; he almost mentioned me by name. The third
ecclesiastic went beyond all bounds, actually uttering the following
words:
"Sire, when King David was still but a shepherd, a heifer was stolen from
his flocks; David made complaint to the patriarch of the land, when his
heifer was restored to him, and the thief was punished.
"When David came to the throne, he carried off his servant's wife, and as
an excuse for such an odious deed, he pleaded the young woman's extreme
beauty. The wretched servant besought him to obey the voice, not of
passion, but of justice, and the servant was disgraced and perished
miserably. Oh, David, unhappy David!"
The King, who had found it hard to sit quiet and hear such insults, said
to me that evening:
"Go to Clagny. Let this stormy weather pass by. When it is fine again,
you must come back."
Having never run counter to the wishes of the father of my children, I
acquiesced, and without further delay gladly departed.
Next day, Madame de Montausier came to see me at my country-house; she
told me of the general rumour that was afloat at Court. The news, said
she, of my retirement had begun to get about; three bishops had gone to
congratulate the King, and these gentlemen had despatched couriers to
Paris to inform the heads of the various parishes, inviting them to write
to the prince sympathising references touching an event which God and all
Christendom viewed with complete satisfaction.
Madame de Montausier assured me that the King's bearing was fairly calm
on the whole, and she also added that he had granted an interview of half
an hour at least to the Abbe Bossuet, who had discoursed to him about me
in a strain similar to that of the other clerics.
She was my sincere friend; she promised to come to Clagny every evening,
driving thither incognito.
She had hardly been gone an hour, when my footman announced "Monsieur
Bossuet, Bishop of Condom."
At the mention of this name, I felt momentarily inclined to refuse to see
its owner; but I conquered my disgust, and I did well. The prelate, with
his semi-clerical, semi-courtly air, made me a low bow. I calmly waited,
so as to give him time to deliver his message. The famous rhetorician
proceeded as follows:
"You know, madame, with what health-giving sacrifices the Church is now
engaged. The merits of our Lord doubtless protect Christians at all
times, but the Church has appointed times more efficacious, ceremonies
more useful, springs yet more abounding. Thus it is that we now
celebrate the grand nine days of the jubilee.
"To this mystic pool herdsman and monarchs alike receive summons and
admission. The most Christian King must, for his own sake, accomplish
his own sanctification; his sanctification provides for that of his
subjects.
"Chosen by God to this royal priesthood, he comprehends the duties
imposed upon him by such noble office. The passions of the heart are
maladies from which man may recover, just as he recovers from physical
disease. The physicians of the soul have lifted up their voice, have
taken sage counsel together; and I come to inform you of the monarch's
miraculous recovery, and at his request, I bring you this important and
welcome news.
"For convalescents, greater care is required than for others; the King,
and the whole of France, beseech you, with my voice, to have respect and
care for the convalescence of our monarch, and I beg you, madame, to
leave at once for Fontevrault."
"For Fontevrault?" I cried, without betraying my emotion. "Fontevrault
is near Poitiers; it is too far away. No, I would rather go to
Petit-Bourg, near the forest of Fontainebleau."
"Fontainebleau is but eighteen leagues from the capital," he answered;
"such proximity would be dangerous. I must insist upon Fontevrault,
madame."
"But I cannot take my children to Fontevrault," I retorted; "the nuns,
and the Abbess herself, would never admit them. You know better than I
do that it is a nunnery."
"Your children," said he, "are not necessary to you; Madame de la
Valliere managed to leave here for good and all."
"Yes; and in forsaking them she committed a crime," I answered; "only
ferocious-hearted persons could have counselled her or commanded her to
do so." And saying this, I rose, and gave him a glance of disdain.
He grew somewhat gentler in manner as he slowly went on, "His Majesty
will take care of your children; it behoves you to save their mother.
And, in order to prove to you that I have not come here of my own accord,
but that, on the contrary, I am executing a formal command, here is a
letter of farewell addressed to you by the King."
I took the letter, which was couched in the following terms:
It is but right, madame, that on so solemn an occasion I should set an
example myself. I must ask you henceforth to consider our intimacy
entirely at an end. You must retire to Fontevrault, where Madame de
Montemart will take care of you and afford you distraction by her
charming society. Your children are in good hands; do not be in the
least uneasy about them. Farewell. I wish you all the firmness and
well-being possible. LOUISON.
In the first flush of my indignation I was about to trample under foot so
offensive a communication. But the final phrase shocked me less than the
others.
I read it over again, and understood that if the King recommended me to
be firm, it was because he needed to be firm himself. I soon mastered my
emotion, and looked at things in their real light. It was easy to see
that sanctimonious fanatics had forced the King to act. Bossuet was not
sanctimonious, but, to serve his own ends, proffered himself as spokesman
and emissary, being anxious to prove to his old colleagues that he was on
the side of what they styled moral conduct and good example.
For a while I walked up and down my salon; but the least exertion
fatigues me. I resumed my armchair or my settee, leaving the man there
like a sort of messenger, whom it was not necessary to treat with any
respect. He was bold, and asked me for a definite answer which he could
take back to his Majesty. I stared hard at him for about a minute, and
then said: "My Lord Bishop of Condom, the clerics who have been advising
the King are very pleased that he should set an example to his people of
self-sacrifice. I am of their opinion; I think as they do, as you do, as
the Pope does; but feeling convinced that to us, the innocent sheep, the
shepherds ought first to show an example, I will consent to break off my
relationship with his Majesty when you, M. de Condom, shall have broken
off your intimacy with Mademoiselle de Mauleon des Vieux!"
By a retort of this kind I admit that I hoped greatly to embarrass the
Bishop, and enjoy seeing his face redden with confusion. But he was
nowise disconcerted, and I confess to-day that this circumstance proved
to me that there was but little truth in the rumours that were current
with regard to this subject.
"Mademoiselle de Mauleon!" said he, smiling half-bitterly,
half-pityingly. "Surely, madame, your grief makes you forget what you
say. Everybody knows that she is an acquaintance of my youth, and that,
since that time, having confidence in my doctrines and my counsel, she
wished to have me as spiritual monitor and guide. How can you institute
a comparison between such a relationship and your own?" Then, after
walking up and down for a moment, as if endeavouring to regain his
self-possession, he continued:
"However, I shall not insist further; it was signally foolish of me to
speak in the name of an earthly king, when I should have invoked that of
the King of Heaven. I have received an insulting answer. So be it.
"Farewell, madame. I leave you to your own conscience, which, seemingly,
is so tranquil that I blame myself for having sought to disturb it."
With these words he departed, leaving me much amazed at the patience with
which a man, known to be so arrogant and haughty, had received such an
onslaught upon his private life and reputation.
I need scarcely say that, next day, the species of pastoral letter which
my lords the Bishops of Aleth, Orleans, Soissons, and Condom had dictated
to the King was succeeded by another letter, which he had dictated
himself, and by which my love for him was solaced and assured.
He begged me to wait patiently for a few days, and this arrangement
served my purpose very well. I thought it most amusing that the King
should have commissioned M. de Bossuet to deliver this second missive,
and I believe I said as much to certain persons, which perhaps gave rise
to a rumour that he actually brought me love-letters from the King. But
the purveyors of such gossip could surely know nothing of Bossuet's
inflexible principles, and of the subtlety of his policy. He was well
aware that by lending himself to such amenities he would lose caste
morally with the King, and that if by his loyalty he had won royal
attachment and regard, all this would have been irretrievably lost. Thus
M. de Bossuet was of those who say, "Hate me, but fear me," rather than
of those who strive to be loved. Such people know that friendships are
generally frail and transient, and that esteem lasts longer and leads
further. He never interfered again with my affairs, nor did I with his;
I got my way, and he is still where he was.