THE WAR IN HOLLAND.
1670-1679
Louis's fondness for jewels.--Anecdote.--Superstitions of Louis.--His
dread of the towers of St. Denis.--Ambition of Louis.--He abandons St.
Germain.--Severity of Louis to Madame de la Valliere.--A second flitting
to Chaillot.--Night in the convent.--Disappointment.--Return of Louise
to the palace.--Madame de Montespan.--Louis reproved by the
clergy.--Power of France.--Alarm in Holland.--Humble inquiry of the
Dutch.--Haughty reply of Louis.--Body-guard of the king.--Reply of
the Dutch merchant.--Forces of William, prince of Orange.--Louis's
march unresisted.--The French cross the Rhine.--Death of the Duke
of Longueville.--Passage of the Rhine.--Louis a bigoted
Catholic.--Consternation.--Reception of the Dutch deputies.--Terms
of Louis XIV.--Heroic conduct of the Dutch.--The dikes pierced.--Naval
battle.--Efforts of the Prince of Orange.--Louis returns to Paris.--His
extraordinary energy.--Arch of triumph.--Skill and strategy of
Turenne.--Barbarities of Turenne.--Opinion of Voltaire.--Death of
Turenne.--Peace of Nimeguen.--Penitence and anguish of Louise de la
Valliere.--Takes leave of her children and the queen.--Again at the
convent.--Faithfulness to duty.--Marriage of the Duchess of Orleans
with the King of Spain.--The Countess de Soissons.--Character of the
dauphin.--Monseigneur's indifference.--Francoise d'Aubigne.--Her
apparent death and recovery.--Francoise a Protestant.--Persecutions
in consequence.--Sufferings of Francoise.--Death of her mother.
Madame de Montespan was now the reigning favorite. The
conscience-stricken king could not endure to think of death. He
studiedly excluded from observation every thing which could remind him
of that doom of mortals. All the badges of mourning were speedily laid
aside, and efforts were made to banish from the court the memory of
the young and beautiful Princess Henrietta, whose poisoned body was
mouldering to dust in the tomb.
The king had a childish fondness for brilliant gems. In his cabinet he
had a massive and costly secretary of elaborately carved rosewood.
Upon its shelves he had arrayed the crown jewels, which he often
handled and examined with the same delight with which a miser counts
his gold.
Mademoiselle de Montpensier, in her interesting Memoirs, relates the
following anecdote, which throws interesting light upon the character
of the king at this time. It will be remembered that Louis XIV. was
born in one of the palaces at St. Germain, about fifteen miles from
Paris. The magnificent terrace on the left bank of the winding Seine
commands perhaps as enchanting a view as can be found any where in
this world. The domes and towers of Paris appear far away in the
north. The wide, luxuriant valley of the Seine, studded with villages
and imposing castles, lies spread out in beautiful panorama before the
eye. The king had expended between one and two millions of dollars in
embellishing the royal residences here. But as the conscience of the
king became more sensitive, and repeated deaths forced upon him the
conviction that he too must eventually die, St. Germain not only lost
all its charms, but became a place obnoxious to him. From the terrace
there could be distinctly seen, a few leagues to the east, the tower
and spire of St. Denis, the burial-place of the kings of France. To
Louis it suddenly became as torturing a sight as to have had his
coffin ostentatiously displayed in his banqueting-hall.
When Anne of Austria was lying on her bed of suffering, the king was
one day pacing alone the terrace of St. Germain. Dark clouds were
drifting through the sky. One of these clouds seemed to gather over
the towers of St. Denis. To the excited imagination of the king, the
vapor wreathed itself into the form of a hearse, surmounted by the
arms of Austria. In a few days the king followed the remains of his
mother to the dark vaults of this their last resting-place. Just
before the death of the hapless Henrietta, the same gloomy towers
appeared to the king in a dream enveloped in flames, and in the midst
of the fire there was a skeleton holding in his hand a lady's rich
jewelry. But a few days after this the king was constrained to follow
the remains of the beautiful Henrietta to this sepulchre. God seems to
have sent warning upon warning upon this wicked king. Absorbed in
ambitious plans and guilty passions, Louis had but little time or
thought to give to his neglected wife or her children. In the same
year his two daughters died, and with all the pageantry of royal woe
they were also entombed at St. Denis.
[Illustration: ST. DENIS.]
It is not strange that, under these circumstances, the king, to whom
the Gospel of Christ was often faithfully preached, and who was living
in the most gross violation of the principles of the religion of
Jesus, should have recoiled from a view of those towers, which were
ever a reminder to him of death and the grave. He could no longer
endure the palace at St. Germain. The magnificent panorama of the
city, the winding Seine, the flowery meadows, the forest, the
villages, and the battlemented chateaux lost all their charms, since
the towers of St. Denis would resistlessly arrest his eye, forcing
upon his soul reflections from which he instinctively recoiled. He
therefore abandoned St. Germain entirely, and determined that the
palace he was constructing at Versailles should be so magnificent as
to throw every other abode of royalty into the shade.
Madame de la Valliere was daily becoming more wretched. Fully
conscious of her sin and shame, deserted by the king, supplanted by a
new favorite, and still passionately attached to her royal betrayer,
she could not restrain that grief which rapidly marred her beauty. The
waning of her charms, and the reproaches of her silent woe,
increasingly repelled the king from seeking her society. One day Louis
entered the apartment of Louise, and found her weeping bitterly. In
cold, reproachful tones, he demanded the cause of her uncontrollable
grief. The poor victim, upon the impulse of the moment, gave vent to
all the gushing anguish of her soul--her sense of guilt in the sight
of God--her misery in view of her ignominious position, and her
brokenness of heart in the consciousness that she had lost the love of
one for whom she had periled her very soul.
The king listened impatiently, and then haughtily replied, "Let there
be an end to this. I love you, and you know it. But I am not to be
constrained." He reproached her for her obstinacy in refusing the
friendship of her rival, Madame de Montespan, and added the cutting
words, "You have needed, as well as Madame de Montespan, the
forbearance and countenance of your sex."
Poor Louise was utterly crushed. She had long been thinking of
retiring to a convent. Her decision was now formed. She devoted a few
sad days to the necessary arrangements, took an agonizing leave, as
she supposed forever, of her children, to whom she was tenderly
attached, and for whom the king had made ample provision, and,
addressing a parting letter to him, entered her carriage, to seek, for
a second time, a final retreat in the convent of Chaillot.
It was late in the evening when she entered those gloomy cells where
broken hearts find a living burial. To the abbess she said, "I have no
longer a home in the palace; may I hope to find one in the cloister?"
The abbess received her with true Christian sympathy. After listening
with a tearful eye to the recital of her sorrows, she conducted her to
the cell in which she was to pass the night.
"She could not pray, although she cast herself upon her knees beside
the narrow pallet, and strove to rejoice that she had at length
escaped from the trials of a world which had wearied her, and of which
she herself was weary. There was no peace, no joy in her rebel heart.
She thought of the first days of her happiness; of her children, who
on the morrow would ask for her in vain; and then, as memory swept
over her throbbing brain, she remembered her former flight to
Chaillot, and that it was the king himself who had led her back again
into the world. Her brow burned as the question forced itself upon
her, Would he do so a second time? would he once more hasten, as he
had then done, to rescue her from the living death to which she had
consigned herself as an atonement for her past errors?
"But hour after hour went by, and all was silent. Hope died within
her. Daylight streamed dimly into the narrow casement of her cell.
Soon the measured step of the abbess fell upon her ear as she advanced
up the long gallery, striking upon the door of each cell as she
approached, and uttering in a solemn voice, 'Let us bless the Lord.'
To which appeal each of the sisters replied in turn, 'I give him
thanks.'"
The deceptive heart of Louise led her to hope, notwithstanding she had
voluntarily sought the cloister, that the king, yearning for her
presence, would come himself, as soon as he heard of her departure,
and affectionately force her back to the Louvre. Early in the morning
she heard the sound of carriage-wheels entering the court-yard of the
convent. Her heart throbbed with excitement. Soon she was summoned
from her cell to the parlor. Much to her disappointment, the king was
not there, but his minister, M. Colbert, presented to her a very
affectionate letter from his majesty urging her return. As she
hesitated, M. Colbert pleaded earnestly in behalf of his sovereign.
The feeble will of Louise yielded, while yet she blushed at her own
weakness. Tears filled her eyes as she took leave of the abbess,
grasping her hand, and saying, "This is not a farewell; I shall
assuredly return, and perhaps very soon." The king was much moved in
receiving her, and, with great apparent cordiality, thanked her for
having complied with his entreaties. Even the heart of Madame de
Montespan was touched. She received with words of love and sympathy
the returned fugitive, whose rivalry she no longer feared, and in
whose sad career she perhaps saw mirrored her own future doom.
Madame de Montespan was then in the zenith of her power. The king had
assigned her the beautiful chateau of Clagny, but a short distance
from Versailles. Here she lived in great splendor, entertaining
foreign embassadors, receiving from them costly gifts, and introducing
them to her children as if they were really princes of the blood.
Notwithstanding the corruptions of the papal Church, there were in
that Church many faithful ministers of Jesus Christ. Some of them, in
their preaching, inveighed very severely against the sinful practices
in the court. Not only Madame de Montespan, but the king, often knew
that they were directly referred to. But the guilty yet sagacious
monarch carefully avoided any appropriation of the denunciations to
himself. Still, he was so much annoyed that he seriously contemplated
urging Madame de Montespan to retire to a convent. He even authorized
the venerable Bossuet, then Bishop of Condom, to call upon Madame de
Montespan, and suggest in his name that she should withdraw from the
court and retire to the seclusion of the cloister. But the haughty
favorite, conscious of the power of her charms, and knowing full well
that the king had only submitted to the suggestion, peremptorily
refused. She judged correctly. The king was well pleased to have her
remain.
The preparations which the king was making for the invasion of Holland
greatly alarmed the Dutch government. France had become powerful far
beyond any other Continental kingdom. The king had the finest army in
Europe. Turenne, Conde, Vauban, ranked among the ablest generals and
engineers of any age. While Louis XIV. was apparently absorbed in his
pleasures, Europe was surprised to see vast trains of artillery and
ammunition wagons crowding the roads of his northern provinces. In his
previous campaign, Louis had taken Flanders in three months, and
Franche-Comte in three weeks. These rapid conquests had alarmed
neighboring nations, and Holland, Switzerland, and England had entered
into an alliance to resist farther encroachments, should they be
attempted.
Louis affected to be very angry that such a feeble state as Holland
should have the impudence to think of limiting his conquests. Having,
as we have mentioned, detached England from the alliance by bribing
with gold and female charms the miserable Charles II., Louis was
ready, without any declaration of war, even without any _openly
avowed_ cause of grievance, to invade Holland, and annex the territory
to his realms. The States-General, alarmed in view of the magnitude of
the military operations which were being made upon their borders, sent
embassadors to the French court humbly to inquire if these
preparations were designed against Holland, the ancient and faithful
ally of France, and, if so, in what respect Holland had offended.
Louis XIV. haughtily and insolently replied, "I shall make use of my
troops as my own dignity renders advisable. I am not responsible for
my conduct to any power whatever."
The real ability of the king was shown in the effectual measures he
adopted to secure, without the chance of failure, the triumphant
execution of his plans. Twenty millions of people had been robbed of
their hard earnings to fill his army chests with gold. An army of a
hundred and thirty thousand men, in the highest state of discipline,
and abundantly supplied with all the munitions of war, were on the
march for the northern frontiers of France. These troops were
supported by a combined English and French fleet of one hundred and
thirty vessels of war. It was the most resistless force, all things
considered, Europe had then ever witnessed. We shall not enter into
the details of this campaign, which are interesting only to military
men. Twelve hundred of the sons of the nobles were organized into a
body-guard, ever to surround the king. They were decorated with the
most brilliant uniforms, glittering with embroideries of gold and
silver, and were magnificently mounted. The terrible bayonet was then,
for the first time, attached to the musket. Light pontoons of brass
for crossing the rivers were carried on wagons. A celebrated writer,
M. Pelisson, accompanied the king, to give a glowing narrative of his
achievements.
As there had been no declaration of war and no commencement of
hostilities, the king purchased a large amount of military stores even
in the states of Holland, which, no one could doubt, he was preparing
to invade. A Dutch merchant, being censured by Prince Maurice for
entering into a traffic so unpatriotic, replied,
"My lord, if there could be opened to me by sea any advantageous
commerce with the infernal regions, I should certainly go there, even
at the risk of burning my sails."
Louis made arrangements that money should be liberally expended to
bribe the commandants of the Dutch fortresses. To oppose all these
moral and physical forces, Holland had but twenty-five thousand
soldiers, poorly armed and disciplined. They were under the command of
the Prince of Orange, who was in feeble health, and but twenty-two
years of age. But this young prince proved to be one of the most
extraordinary men of whom history gives any account; yet it was
manifestly impossible for him now to arrest the torrent about to
invade his courts.
Louis rapidly pushed his troops forward into the unprotected states of
Holland which bordered the left banks of the Rhine. His march was
unresisted. Liberally he paid for whatever he took, distributed
presents to the nobles, and, preparing to cross the river, placed his
troops in strong detachments in villages scattered along the banks of
the stream. The king himself was at the head of a choice body of
thirty thousand troops. Marshal Turenne commanded under him.
The whole country on the left bank of the Rhine was soon in
possession of the French, as village after village fell into their
hands. The main object of the Prince of Orange was to prevent the
French from crossing the river. Louis intended to have crossed by his
pontoons, suddenly moving upon some unexpected point. But there came
just then a very severe drouth. The water fell so low that there was a
portion of the stream which could be nearly forded. It would be
necessary to swim the horses but about twenty feet. The current was
slow, and the passage could be easily effected. By moving rapidly, the
Prince of Orange would not be able to collect at that point sufficient
troops seriously to embarrass the operation.
Fifteen thousand horsemen were here sent across, defended by artillery
on the banks, and aided by boats of brass. But one man in the French
army, the young Duke de Longueville, was killed. He lost his life
through inebriation, and its consequent folly and crime. Half crazed
with wine, he refused quarter to a Dutch officer who had thrown down
his arms and surrendered. Reeling in his saddle, he shot down the
officer, exclaiming, "No quarter for these rascals." Some of the Dutch
infantry, who were just surrendering, in despair opened fire, and the
drunken duke received the death-blow he merited.
This passage of the Rhine was considered a very brilliant achievement,
and added much to the military reputation of Louis XIV., though it
appears to have been exclusively the feat of the Prince of Conde. The
cities of Holland fell in such rapid succession into the power of the
French, that scarcely an hour of the day passed in which the king did
not receive the news of some conquest. An officer named Mazel sent an
aid to Marshal Turenne to say,
"If you will be kind enough to send me fifty horsemen, I shall with
them be able to take two or three places."
It was on the 12th of June, 1672, that the passage of the Rhine was
effected. On the 20th the French king made his triumphal entrance into
the city of Utrecht. The king was a Catholic--a bigoted Catholic.
Corrupt as he was in life, regardless as he was in his private conduct
of the precepts of Jesus, he was extremely zealous to invest the
Catholic Church with power and splendor. It was with him a prominent
object to give the Catholic religion the supremacy.
Amsterdam was the capital of the republic. The capture of that city
would complete the conquest. Not only the republic would perish, but
Holland would, as it were, disappear from the earth, her territory
being absorbed in that of France. The consternation in the metropolis
was great. The most noble and wealthy families were preparing for a
rapid flight to the north. Amsterdam was then the most opulent and
influential commercial town in Europe. It contained a population of
two hundred thousand sagacious, energetic, thrifty people. As is
invariably the case in days of disaster, there were discordant
counsels and angry divisions among the bewildered defenders of the
imperiled realm. Some were for fiercely pressing the war, others for
humbly imploring peace.
At length four deputies were sent to the French camp to intercede for
the clemency of the conqueror. They were received with raillery and
insult. After contemptuously compelling the deputation several times
to come and go without any result, the king at last condescended to
present the following as his terms:
He demanded that the States of Holland should surrender to him the
whole of the territory on the left bank of the Rhine; that they
should place in his hands, to be garrisoned by French troops, the most
important forts and fortified towns of the republic; that they should
pay him twenty millions of francs, a sum equal to several times that
amount at the present day; that the French should be placed in command
of all the important entrances to Holland, both by sea and land, and
should be exempted from paying any duty upon the goods they should
enter; that the Catholic religion should be established every where
through the realm; and that every year the republic should send to
Louis XIV. an embassador, with a golden medal, upon which there should
be impressed the declaration that the republic held all its privileges
through the favor of Louis XIV. To these conditions were to be added
such as the States-General should be compelled to make with the other
allies engaged in the war.
The nations of Europe have been guilty of many outrages, but perhaps
it would be difficult to find one more atrocious than this. In
reference to the cause of the war, Voltaire very truly remarks, "It is
a singular fact, and worthy of record, that of all the enemies, there
was not one that could allege any pretext whatever for the war." It
was an enterprise very similar to that of the coalition of Louis XII.,
the Emperor Maximilian, and Spain, who conspired for the overthrow of
the Venetian republic simply because that republic was rich and
prosperous.
These terms, dictated by the insolence of the conqueror, were quite
intolerable. They inspired the courage of despair. The resolution was
at once formed to perish, if perish they must, with their arms in
their hands. The Prince of Orange had always urged the vigorous
prosecution of the war. Guided by his energetic counsel, they pierced
the dikes, which alone protected their country from the waters of the
sea. The flood rushed in through the opened barriers, converting
hundreds of leagues of fertile fields into an ocean. The inundation
flooded the houses, swept away the roads, destroyed the harvest,
drowned the flocks; and yet no one uttered a murmur. Louis XIV., by
his infamous demands, had united all hearts in the most determined
resistance. Amsterdam appeared like a large fortress rising in the
midst of the ocean, surrounded by ships of war, which found depth of
water to float where ships had never floated before. The distress was
dreadful. It was the briny ocean whose waves were now sweeping over
the land. It was so difficult to obtain any fresh water that it was
sold for six cents a pint.
Maritime Holland, though weak upon the land, was still powerful on the
sea. The united fleet of the allies did not exceed that of the
republic. The Dutch Admiral Ruyter, with a hundred vessels of war and
fifty fire-ships, repaired to the coasts of England in search of his
foes. He met the allied fleet on the 7th of June, 1672, and in the
heroic naval battle of Solbaie disabled and dispersed it. This gave
Holland the entire supremacy on the sea. Thus suddenly Louis XIV.
found himself checked, and no farther progress was possible.
The Prince of Orange gave all his private revenues to the state, and
entered into negotiations with other powers, who were already alarmed
by the encroachments of the French king. The Emperor of Germany, the
Spanish court, and Flanders, entered into an alliance with the heroic
prince. He even compelled Charles II. to withdraw from that union with
Louis XIV. which was opposed to the interests of England, and into
which his court had been reluctantly dragged. Troops from all quarters
were hurrying forward for the protection of Holland.
The villainy of Louis XIV. was thwarted. Chagrined at seeing his
conquest at an end, but probably with no compunctions of conscience
for the vast amount of misery his crime had caused, he left his
discomfited army under the command of Turenne and the other generals,
and returned to his palaces in France.
The troops which remained in Holland committed outrages which rendered
the very name of the French detested. Louis, from the midst of the
pomp and pleasure of his palaces, still displayed extraordinary
energies. Agents were dispatched to all the courts of Europe with
large sums of money for purposes of bribery. By his diplomatic
cunning, Hungary was roused against Austria. Gold was lavished upon
the King of England to induce him, notwithstanding the opposition of
the British Parliament, to continue in alliance with France. Several
of the petty states of Germany were bought over. Louis greatly
increased his naval force. He soon had forty ships of war afloat,
besides a large number of fire-ships.
But Europe had been so alarmed by his encroachments and his menaces
that, notwithstanding his efforts at diplomacy and intrigue, he was
compelled to abandon his enterprise, and withdraw his troops from the
provinces he had overrun.
[Illustration: PORTE ST. DENIS.]
In the early part of his campaign, Louis, flushed with victory and
assured of entire success, had commenced building, as a monument of
his great achievement, the arch of triumph at the gate of St. Denis.
The structure was scarcely completed ere he was compelled to withdraw
his troops from Holland, to meet the foes who were crowding upon him
from all directions.
Louis XIV. now found nearly all Europe against him. He sent twenty
thousand men, under Marshal Turenne, to encounter the forces of the
Emperor of Germany. The Prince de Conde was sent with forty thousand
troops to assail the redoubtable Prince of Orange. Another strong
detachment was dispatched to the frontiers of Spain, to arrest the
advance of the Spanish troops. A fleet was also sent, conveying a
large land force, to make a diversion by attacking the Spanish
sea-ports.
Turenne, in defending the frontiers of the Rhine, acquired reputation
which has made his name one of the most renowned in military annals.
The emperor sent seventy thousand men against him. Turenne had but
twenty thousand to meet them. By wonderful combinations, he defeated
and dispersed the whole imperial army. It added not a little to the
celebrity of Turenne that he had achieved his victory by following his
own judgment, in direct opposition to reiterated orders from the
minister of war, given in the name of the king.
Turenne, a merciless warrior, allowed no considerations of humanity to
interfere with his military operations. The Palatinate, a country on
both sides the Rhine, embracing a territory of about sixteen hundred
square miles, and a population of over three hundred thousand, was
laid in ashes by his command. It was a beautiful region, very fertile,
and covered with villages and opulent cities. The Elector Palatine saw
from the towers of his castle at Manheim two cities and twenty-five
villages at the same time in flames. This awful destruction was
perpetrated upon the defenseless inhabitants, that the armies of the
emperor, encountering entire desolation, might be deprived of
subsistence. It was nothing to Turenne that thousands of women and
children should be cast houseless into the fields to starve.
Alsace, with nearly a million of inhabitants, encountered the same
doom. Another province, Lorraine, which covered an area of about ten
thousand square miles, and contained a population of one and a half
millions, was swept of all its provisions by the cavalry of the French
commander. In reference to these military operations, Voltaire writes,
"All the injuries he inflicted seemed to be necessary. Besides, the
army of seventy thousand Germans, whom he thus prevented from
entering France, would have inflicted much more injury than Turenne
inflicted upon Lorraine, Alsace, and the Palatinate."
On the 27th of June, 1675, a cannon ball struck Turenne, and closed in
an instant his earthly career. His renown filled Europe. He was a
successful warrior, a dissolute man; and few who have ever lived have
caused more wide-spread misery than could be charged to his account.
Such is not the character which best prepares one to stand before the
judgment seat of Christ.
The war continued for two years with somewhat varying fortune, but
with unvarying blood and misery. At last peace was made on the 14th of
August, 1678--the peace of Nimeguen, as it is styled. Louis XIV.
dictated the terms. He was now at the height of his grandeur. He had
enlarged his domains by the addition of Franche-Comte, Dunkirk, and
half of Flanders. His courtiers worshiped him as a demigod. The French
court conferred upon him, with imposing solemnities, the title of
_Louis le Grand_. The ambition of Louis was by no means satiated. He
availed himself of the short peace which ensued to form plans and
gather resources for new conquests.
Let us now return from fields of blood to life in the palace. Madame
de la Valliere, upon her return from the convent, soon found herself
utterly miserable. She had hoped that reviving affection had been the
inducement which led Louis to recall her. Instead of this, his
attentions daily diminished. Madame de Montespan had accompanied the
king in his brief trip to Holland, and returned with him to Paris. She
was all-powerful at court, and seemed to delight, by word and deed, to
add to the anguish of her vanquished rival. After a dreary year of
wretchedness, Louise could endure no longer a residence in the palace.
Her mother, who had been exceedingly distressed in view of the
ignominious position occupied by her daughter, entreated her to retire
to the Duchy of Vaujours with her children. Her mother promised to
accompany her to that quiet yet beautiful retreat. But the spirit of
Louise was broken. She longed only to sever herself entirely from the
world, and to seek a living burial in the glooms of the cloister. In
those days of sorrow, penitence and the spirit of devotion sprang up
in her weary heart.
Louise was still young and beautiful. Her passionate love for the
king still held strong dominion over her. Grief brought on a long and
dangerous illness. For many days her life was in danger. In view of
the approaching judgment, where she felt that she soon must stand, the
greatness of her transgression harrowed her soul, and increased her
desire to spend the rest of her life in works of piety and in prayer.
When convalescent, the king consented to her retirement to the
Carmelite convent. Like one in a dream, she took leave of her children
without a tear. Then, entering the apartment of the queen, she threw
herself upon her knees, and with the sobbings of a remorseful and
despairing heart implored her pardon for all the sorrow she had caused
her. The generous Maria Theresa raised her up, embraced her, and
declared her entirely forgiven.
The morning of her departure arrived. The king, who was that day to
leave Paris to visit the army in Flanders, attended high mass. Louise
also attended. Absorbed in prayer, she did not raise her eyes during
the service. She then, pale as death, and leaning upon the arm of her
mother, but for whose support she must have fallen, advanced to take
leave of the king. The selfish monarch, with a dry eye and a firm
voice, bade her adieu, coldly expressing the hope that she would be
happy in her retreat. Without the slightest apparent emotion, he saw
Louise, with her earthly happiness utterly wrecked, enter her carriage
and drive away, to pass the remainder of her joyless years in the
gloomy cell of the convent. He then turned and conversed with his
companions with as much composure as if nothing unusual had happened.
Louise, upon her arrival at the convent, cast herself upon her knees
before the abbess, saying that hitherto she had made so ill a use of
her free will that she came to resign it to the abbess forever. For
thirty-six years the heart-broken penitent endured the hardships of
her convent life--its narrow pallet, its hard fare, its prolonged
devotions, its silence, and its rigid fastings. Under the name of
Louisa of Mercy she with the most exemplary fidelity performed all her
dreary duties, until, in her sixty-sixth year, she fell asleep, and
passed away, we trust, to the bosom of that Savior who is ever ready
to receive the returning penitent.
The hapless Henrietta, duchess of Orleans, left a very beautiful
daughter, Maria Louisa. Her charms of countenance, person, and
manners attracted the admiration of the whole court, where she was a
universal favorite. She was compelled by the king, as a matter of
state policy, to marry Charles II., the young King of Spain, for whom
she felt no affection. Bitterly she wept in view of the terrible
sacrifice she was compelled to make. But the will of the king was
inexorable. Her melancholy marriage was solemnized with much splendor
in the great chapel at St. Germain. She then left, with undisguised
reluctance, for Madrid. The King of Spain, feeble in body, more feeble
in mind, moody and melancholy, was charmed by her youth and beauty.
Her mental endowments were such that she soon acquired entire
ascendency over him. He became pliant as wax in her hands.
The cabinet at Vienna were alarmed lest Maria Louisa should influence
her husband to unite with France against Germany. The Countess de
Soissons was sent as a secret agent to the Spanish court. Beautiful
and fascinating, she soon became exceedingly intimate with the queen.
One day Maria Louisa, oppressed by the heat, expressed regret at the
scarcity of milk in Madrid, saying how much she should enjoy a good
draught. The countess assured her that she knew where to obtain some
of excellent quality, and that, with her majesty's permission, she
would have it iced and present it with her own hands. The queen
received the cup with a smile, and drank it at once. In half an hour
she was taken ill. After a few hours of horrible agony, such as her
unhappy mother had previously endured from the same cause, she died.
In the confusion, the countess escaped from the capital. She was
pursued, but her arrangements for escape had been so skillfully made
that she could not be overtaken.
Maria Theresa, the neglected queen of France, had borne six children;
but of these, at this period, there was but one surviving son, the
dauphin. In his character there appeared a combination of most
singular anomalies and contradictions. Though exceedingly impulsive
and obstinate in obeying every freak of his fancy, he seemed incapable
of any affection, and alike incapable of any hostility, except that
which flashed up for the moment.
"The example of his guardians had inspired him with a few amiable
qualities, but his natural vices defied eradication. His
constitutional tendencies were all evil. His greatest pleasure
consisted in annoying those about him. Those who were most conversant
with his humor could never guess the temper of his mind. He laughed
the loudest and affected the greatest amiability when he was most
exasperated, and scowled defiance when he was perfectly unruffled. His
only talent was a keen sense of the ridiculous. Nothing escaped him
that could be tortured into sarcasm, although no one could have
guessed, from his abstracted and careless demeanor, that he was
conscious of any thing that was taking place in his presence. His
indolence was extreme, and his favorite amusement was lying stretched
upon a sofa tapping the points of his shoes with a cane. Never, to the
day of his death, had even his most intimate associates heard him
express an opinion upon any subject relating to art, literature, or
politics."[N]
[Footnote N: Louis XIV. and the Court of France, vol. ii., p. 268.]
Such was the imbecile young man who, by the absurd law of hereditary
descent, was the destined heir to the throne of more than twenty
millions of people. The king was anxious to obtain for his son a bride
whose alliance would strengthen him against his enemies. With that
policy alone influencing him, he applied for the hand of the Princess
Mary Ann of Bavaria. It so chanced that she was in personal appearance
exceedingly unattractive. The king said that, "though she was not
handsome, he still hoped that Monseigneur would be able to live
happily with her."
The dauphin, or Monseigneur as he was called, seemed to be perfectly
indifferent to the whole matter. He at one time inquired if the
princess were free from any deformity. Upon being told that she was,
he seemed quite contented, and asked no farther questions. In
anticipation of the marriage, a lady, Madame de Maintenon, whose name
henceforth became inseparably connected with that of Louis XIV., was
appointed to the distinguished post of "mistress of the robes" to the
dauphiness. We must now introduce this distinguished lady to our
readers.
The Marchioness Francoise d'Aubigne was born of a noble Protestant
family, in the year 1635, in the prison of Niort. Her mother, with her
little boy, had been permitted to join her imprisoned husband in his
captivity. Here Francoise was born, amidst scenes of the most extreme
poverty and misery. The emaciate mother was unable to afford
sustenance to her infant. A sister of Baron d'Aubigne, Madame de
Vilette, took Francoise to her home at the Chateau de Marcey, where
she passed her infancy. After an imprisonment of four years, the baron
was released; but, as he refused to abjure Calvinism, Cardinal
Richelieu would not permit him to remain in France. He consequently,
with his family, embarked for Martinique. During the passage,
Francoise was taken ill and apparently died. As one of the crew was
about to consign the body to its ocean burial, the grief-stricken
mother implored the privilege of one parting embrace. As she pressed
the child to her heart, she perceived indications of life. The babe
recovered, to occupy a position which filled the world with her
renown.
Upon the island of Martinique prosperity smiled upon them. Madame
d'Aubigne was a Catholic, though her husband was a Protestant. She at
length took ship for France, hoping to save some portion of her
husband's sequestered estates, but was unsuccessful. Upon her return
to Martinique, she found that Baron d'Aubigne, during her absence,
deprived of her restraining influence, had utterly ruined himself by
gambling. Overwhelmed by regret and misery, he almost immediately
sank into the grave. Madame d'Aubigne and her two children, in the
extreme of poverty, returned to France. Madame de Vilette again took
the little Francoise to the chateau of Marcey. As her mother was a
Catholic, Francoise had been baptized by a Romish priest, and reared
in the faith of her mother. The Countess de Neuillant, who was
attached to the household of Anne of Austria, was her godmother, and a
very intense Catholic; but Madame de Vilette, the sister of the
child's father, was a Protestant. The susceptible child was soon led
to adopt the faith of her protectress. Catholic zeal was such in those
days that Madame de Neuillant obtained an order from the court to
remove the little girl from the Protestant family, and to place her
under her own guardianship. Here every effort was made to induce
Francoise to return to the Catholic faith, but neither threats nor
entreaties were of any avail. She remained firm in her Protestant
principles. The persecution she endured amounted almost to martyrdom.
Madame de Neuillant, in her rage, imposed upon her the most
humiliating and onerous domestic services. She was the servant of the
servants. She fed the horses. She suffered from cold and hunger. Thus
she, who subsequently caused the revocation of the Edict of Nantes,
and thus exposed the Protestants to the most dreadful sufferings, was
a martyr of the religion of which she later became so terrible a
scourge.
The mother, witnessing the distress of her child, succeeded in
withdrawing her from Madame de Neuillant, and placing her in a
convent. Here the Ursuline nuns won her over to the Catholic faith.
Proud of their convert, who was remarkably intelligent and attractive,
they kept her for a year. But as neither Madame de Neuillant, from
whom she had been removed, nor Madame de Vilette, who dreaded her
return to Romanism, would pay her board, they refused to give her any
longer a shelter. Francoise left the convent, and joined her mother
only in time to see her sink in sorrow to the grave. She was thus
left, at fourteen years of age, in utter destitution, dependent upon
charity for support.