The Second Comte de Vexin.--He is made Abbe of Saint Denis.--Priests or
Devils?--The Coronation Diadem.--Royalty Jokes with the Monks.
My poor little Comte de Vegin died. We all mourned for him as he
deserved; his pretty face would have made every one love him; his extreme
gentleness had nothing of the savage warrior about it, but at any rate,
he was the best-looking cardinal in Christendom. He made such funny
speeches that one could not help recollecting them. He was more of a
Mortemart than a Bourbon, but that did not prevent the King from
idolising him.
The King thought of conferring the Abbey of Saint Germain des Pres upon
his younger brother; to this I was opposed, imagining, perhaps without
reason, that such succession would bring bad luck. So the King presented
him to the Abbey of Saint Denis, the revenue of which was equally
considerable, and he conferred upon him the title of Comte de Vexin,
caring nothing for the remarks I made concerning the similarities of such
names and distinctions.
The second Comte de Vegin bid fair to be a man of reflection and of
genius. He obviously disliked his little abbe's dress, and we always
kept saying, "It's only for the time being, my little fellow."
When, after his nomination, the monks of Saint Denis came to make their
obeisance to him, he asked if they were devils, and continually covered
his face so as not to see them.
The King arrived, and with a few flattering words managed to soothe the
priests' outraged dignity, and when they asked the little prince if he
would honour them by a visit of inspection to Suger's room, which had
just been restored, he replied with a sulky smile, "I'll come and see
you, but with my eyes shut."
[Suger was Abbe of Saint Denis, and a famous minister of Queen Blanche.
Editor's Note.]
Then the priests mildly remonstrated because the coronation diadem had
not been brought back to their store of treasures, but was still missing.
"So, in your treasure-house at Saint Denis you keep all the crowns of all
the reigns?" asked the prince.
"Yes, Sire, and where could they be better guarded than with us? Who has
most may have least."
"With all their rubies, diamonds, sapphires, and emeralds?"
"Yes, Sire; and hence the name treasure."
The King replied, "If this be the case, I will send you my coronation
crown. At that time my brow was not so big; you will find the crown
small, I tell you."
Then one of the monks, in the most serious manner, said, "It's not as
small as it was; your Majesty has enlarged it a good deal."
Madame de Maintenon burst out laughing, and I was not slow to follow her
example; we saw that the King could hardly maintain his gravity. He said
to the priest, "My father, you turn a pretty compliment in a most
praiseworthy manner; you ought to have belonged to the Jesuits, not to
the Benedictines."
We burst out laughing anew, and this convent-deputation, the
gloomiest-looking, most funereal one in the world, managed to cause us
some diversion, after all.
To make amends for our apparent frivolity, his Majesty himself took them
to see his splendid cabinet of medals and coins, and sent them back to
their abbey in Court carriages.