[Illustration: Louis XIV.]
When the King pleased he could be one of the most agreeable and amiable
men in the world; but it was first necessary that he should be intimately
acquainted with persons. He used to joke in a very comical and amusing
manner.
The King, though by no means perfect, possessed some great and many fine
qualities; and by no means deserved to be defamed and despised by his
subjects after his death.
While he lived he was flattered, even to idolatry.
He was so much tormented on my account that I could not have wondered if
he had hated me most cordially. However, he did not; but, on the
contrary, he discovered that all which was said against me sprang from
malice and jealousy.
If he had not been so unfortunate as to fall into the hands of two of the
worst women in the world Montespan, and that old Maintenon, who was even
worse than the other, he would have been one of the best kings that ever
lived; for all the evil that he ever did proceeded from those two women,
and not from himself.
Although I approved of many things he did, I could not agree with him
when he maintained that it was vulgar to love one's relations. Montespan
had instilled this into him, in order that she might get rid of all his
legitimate blood connections, and might suffer none about him but her
bastards; she had even carried matters so far as to seek to confine the
royal favour to her offspring or her creatures.
Our King loved the chase passionately; particularly hawking and stag
hunting.
One day all the world came to Marly to offer their compliments of
condolence; Louis XIV., to get rid of the ceremony, ordered that no
harangues should be made, but that all the Court should enter without
distinction and together at one door, and go out by the other. Among
them came the Bishop of Gap, in a sort of dancing step, weeping large,
hot tears, and smiling at the same moment, which gave to his face the
most grotesque appearance imaginable. Madame, the Dauphine, and I, were
the first who could not restrain ourselves; then the Dauphin and the Duc
de Berri, and at last the King, and everybody who was in the chamber
burst out into loud laughter.
The King, it must be allowed, gave occasion to great scandal on account
of his mistresses; but then he very sincerely repented of these offences.
He had good natural wit, but was extremely ignorant; and was so much
ashamed of it that it became the fashion for his courtiers to turn
learned men into ridicule. Louis XIV. could not endure to hear politics
talked; he was what they call in this country, 'franc du collier'.
At Marly he did not wish the slightest ceremony to prevail. Neither
ambassadors nor other envoys were ever permitted to come here; he never
gave audience; there was no etiquette, and the people went about
'pele-mele'. Out of doors the King made all the men wear their hats; and
in the drawing-room, everybody, even to the captains, lieutenants, and
sublieutenants of the foot-guards, were permitted to be seated. This
custom so disgusted me with the drawing-room that I never went to it.
The King used to take off his hat to women of all descriptions, even, the
common peasants.
When he liked people he would tell them everything he had heard; and for
this reason it was always dangerous to talk to him of that old Maintenon.
Although he loved flattery, he was very often ready to ridicule it.
Montespan and the old woman had spoiled him and hardened his heart
against his relations, for he was naturally of a very affectionate
disposition.
Louis XIV., as well as all the rest of his family, with the exception of
my son, hated reading. Neither the King nor Monsieur had been taught
anything; they scarcely knew how to read and write. The King was the
most polite man in his kingdom, but his son and his grandchildren were
the most rude.
In his youth he had played in the comedy of 'Les Visionnaires', which he
knew by heart, and in which he acted better than the comedians. He did
not know a note of music; but his ear was so correct that he could play
in a masterly style on the guitar, and execute whatever he chose.
It is not astonishing that the King and Monsieur were brought up in
ignorance. The Cardinal (Mazarin) wished to reign absolutely; if the
princes had been better instructed, he would neither have been trusted
nor employed, and this it was his object to prevent, hoping that he
should live much longer than he did. The Queen-mother found all that the
Cardinal did perfectly right; and, besides, it suited her purpose that he
should be indispensable. It is almost a miracle that the King should
have become what he afterwards was.
I never saw the King beat but two men, and they both well deserved it.
The first was a valet, who would not let him enter the garden during one
of his own fetes. The other was a pickpocket, whom the King saw emptying
the pocket of M. de Villars. Louis XIV., who was on horseback, rode
towards the thief and struck him with his cane; the rascal cried out,
"Murder! I shall be killed!" which made us all laugh, and the King
laughed, also. He had the thief taken, and made him give up the purse,
but he did not have him hanged.
The Duchesse de Schomberg was a good deal laughed at because she asked
the King a hundred questions, which is not the fashion here. The King
was not well pleased to be talked to; but he never laughed in any one's
face.
When Louvois proposed to the King for the first time that he should
appoint Madame Dufresnoy, his mistress, a lady of the Queen's bedchamber,
His Majesty replied, "Would you, then, have them laugh at both of us?"
Louvois, however, persisted so earnestly in his request that the King at
length granted it.
The Court of France was extremely agreeable until the King had the
misfortune to marry that old Maintenon; she withdrew him from company,
filled him with ridiculous scruples respecting plays, and told him that
he ought not to see excommunicated persons. In consequence of this she
had a small theatre erected in her own apartments, where plays were acted
twice a week before the King. Instead of the dismissed comedians,
[These dismissed comedians had, as appears by the edition of 1788,
renounced their profession, and had been admitted to the communion.
After that, Madame de Maintenon no longer saw any sin in them.]
she had the Dauphine, my son, the Duc de Berri, and her own nieces, to
play; in her opinion this was much better than the real comedians. The
King, instead of occupying his usual place, was seated behind me in a
corner, near Madame de Maintenon. This arrangement spoilt all, for the
consequence was that few people saw him, and the Court was almost
deserted.
Maintenon told me that the King said to her, "Now that I am old my
children get tired of me and are delighted to find any opportunity of
fixing me here and going elsewhere for their own amusement; Madame alone
stays, and I see that she is glad to be with me still." But she did not
tell me that she had done all in her power to persuade him of the
contrary, and that the King spoke thus by way of reproaching her for the
lies she had invented about me. I learned that afterwards from others.
If the King had been my father I could not have loved him more than I
did; I was always pleased to be with him.
He was fond of the German soldiers, and said that the German horsemen
displayed more grace in the saddle than those of any other nation.
When the King had a design to punish certain libertines, Fagon--[Guy
Crescent Fagon, appointed the King's chief physician in 1693, died in
1718.]--had an amusing conversation with him. He said,--
"Folks made love long before you came into the world, and they will
always continue to do so. You cannot prevent them; and when I hear
preachers talking in the pulpit and railing against such as yield to the
influence of passion, I think it is very much as if I should say to my
phthisical patients, 'You must not cough; it is very wrong to spit.'
Young folks are full of humours, which must be dispersed by one way or
another."
The King could not refrain from laughing.
He was only superstitious in religious matters; for example, with respect
to the miracles of the Virgin, etc.
He had been taught to believe that to make friends with his brother was a
great political stroke and a fine State device; that it made a part of
what is called to reign well.
Since the time of this King it has not been the custom for ladies to talk
of the affairs of the State.
If the King heard that any one had spoken ill of him, he displayed a
proud resentment towards the offender; otherwise it was impossible to be
more polite and affable than he was. His conversation was pleasing in a
high degree. He had the skill of giving an agreeable turn to everything.
His manner of talking was natural, without the least affectation, amiable
and obliging. Although he had not so much courage as Monsieur, he was
still no coward. His brother said that he had always behaved well in
occasions of danger; but his chief fault lay in being soon tired of war,
and wishing to return home.
From the time of his becoming so outrageously devout, all amusements were
suspended for three weeks (at Easter); and before, they were only
discontinued a fortnight.
The King had a peculiarity of disposition which led him easily to behave
harshly to persons who were disagreeable to such as he loved. It was
thus that La Valliere was so ill-treated at the instigation of Montespan.
He was much amused with the Comte de Grammont,--[Philibert, Comte de
Grammont, St. Evremond's hero, and so well known by means of the Memoirs
of Count Antoine Hamilton, his brother-in-law.]--who was very pleasant.
He loaded him with proofs of his kindness, and invited him to join in all
the excursions to Marly, a decided mark of great favour.
The King frequently complained that in his youth he had not been allowed
to converse with people generally, but it was the fault of his natural
temper; for Monsieur, who had been brought up with him, used to talk to
everybody.
Louis XIV. used to say, laughingly, to Monsieur that his eternal
chattering had put him out of conceit with talking. "Ah, mon Dieu!" he
would say, "must I, to please everybody, say as many silly things as my
brother?"
In general, they would not have been taken for brothers. The King was a
large man, and my husband a small one: the latter had very effeminate
inclinations; he loved dress, was very careful of his complexion, and
took great interest in feminine employments and in ceremonies. The King,
on the contrary, cared little about dress, loved the chase and shooting,
was fond of talking of war, and had all manly tastes and habits.
Monsieur behaved well in battle, but never talked of it; he loved women
as companions, and was pleased to be with them. The King loved to see
them somewhat nearer, and not entirely en honneur, as Monsieur did.
[Madame is not a good authority on this point. The memoirs of the
time will show either that she cannot have known or must have
wilfully concealed the intrigues of various kinds in which her
husband was engaged.]
They nevertheless loved one another much, and it was very interesting to
see them together. They joked each other sensibly and pleasantly, and
without ever quarrelling.
I was never more amused than in a journey which I took with the King to
Flanders. The Queen and the Dauphine were then alive. As soon as we
reached a city, each of us retired to our own quarters for a short time,
and afterwards we went to the theatre, which was commonly so bad that we
were ready to die with laughing. Among others, I remember that at
Dunkirk we saw a company playing Mithridates. In speaking to Monimia,
Mithridates said something which I forget, but which was very absurd.
He turned round immediately to the Dauphine and said, "I very humbly beg
pardon, Madame, I assure you it was a slip of the tongue." The laugh
which followed this apology may be imagined, but it became still greater
when the Prince of Conti,
[Louis-Armaud de Bourbon, Prince de Conti, married in 1780 to
Marie-Anne, commonly called Mademoiselle de Blois, one of the
legitimated daughters of Louis XIV. by Madame de la Valliere. She
was called at Court La Grande Princesse, on account of her beauty
and her stature.]
the husband of La Grande Princesse, who was sitting above the orchestra,
in a fit of laughing, fell into it. He tried to save himself by the
cord, and, in doing so, pulled down the curtain over the lamps, set it on
fire, and burnt a great hole in it. The flames were soon extinguished,
and the actors, as if they were perfectly indifferent, or unconscious of
the accident, continued to play on, although we could only see them
through the hole. When there was no play, we took airings and had
collations; in short, every day brought something new. After the King's
supper we went to see magnificent artificial fireworks given by the
cities of Flanders. Everybody was gay; the Court was in perfect
unanimity, and no one thought of anything but to laugh and seek
amusement.
If the King had known the Duchess of Hanover, he would not have been
displeased at her calling him "Monsieur." As she was a Sovereign
Princess, he thought it was through pride that she would not call him
"Sire," and this mortified him excessively, for he was very sensitive on
such subjects.
One day, before Roquelaure was made a Duke, he was out when it rained
violently, and he ordered his coachman to drive to the Louvre, where the
entrance was permitted to none but Ambassadors, Princes and Dukes. When
his carriage arrived at the gate they asked who it was.
"A Duke," replied he.
"What Duke?" repeated the sentinel.
"The Duc d'Epernon," said he.
"Which of them?"
"The one who died last." And upon this they let him enter. Fearing
afterwards that he might get into a scrape about it, he went directly to
the King. "Sire," said he, "it rains so hard that I came in my coach
even to the foot of your staircase."
The King was displeased. "What fool let you enter?" he asked.
"A greater fool than your Majesty can imagine," replied Roquelaure, "for
he admitted me in the name of the Duc d'Epernon who died last."
This ended the King's anger and made him laugh very heartily.
So great a fear of hell had been instilled into the King that he not only
thought everybody who did not profess the faith of the Jesuits would be
damned, but he even thought he was in some danger himself by speaking to
such persons. If any one was to be ruined with the King, it was only
necessary to say, "He is a Huguenot or a Jansenist," and his business was
immediately settled. My son was about to take into his service a
gentleman whose mother was a professed Jansenist. The Jesuits, by way of
embroiling my son with the King, represented that he was about to engage
a Jansenist on his establishment.
The King immediately sent for him and said "How is this, nephew?
I understand you think of employing a Jansenist in your service."
"Oh, no!" replied my son, laughing, "I can assure your Majesty that he is
not a Jansenist, and I even doubt whether he believes in the existence of
a God."
"Oh, well, then!" said the King, "if that be the case, and you are sure
that he is no Jansenist, you may take him."
It is impossible for a man to be more ignorant of religion than the King
was. I cannot understand how his mother, the Queen, could have brought
him up with so little knowledge on this subject. He believed all that
the priests said to him, as if it came from God Himself. That old
Maintenon and Pere la Chaise had persuaded him that all the sins he had
committed with Madame de Montespan would be pardoned if he persecuted and
extirpated the professors of the reformed religion, and that this was the
only path to heaven. The poor King believed it fervently, for he had
never seen a Bible in his life; and immediately after this the
persecution commenced. He knew no more of religion than what his
confessors chose to tell him, and they had made him believe that it was
not lawful to investigate in matters of religion, but that the reason
should be prostrated in order to gain heaven. He was, however, earnest
enough himself, and it was not his fault that hypocrisy reigned at Court.
The old Maintenon had forced people to assume it.
It was formerly the custom to swear horridly on all occasions; the King
detested this practice, and soon abolished it.
He was very capable of gratitude, but neither his children nor his
grandchildren were. He could not bear to be made to wait for anything.
He said that by means of chains of gold he could obtain anything he
wished from the ministers at Vienna.
He could not forgive the French ladies for affecting English fashions.
He used often to joke about it, and particularly in the conversation
which he addressed to me, expecting that I would take it up and tease the
Princesses. To amuse him, I sometimes said whatever came into my head,
without the least ceremony, and often made him laugh heartily.
Reversi was the only game at which the King played, and which he liked.
When he did not like openly to reprove any person, he would address
himself to me; for he knew that I never restrained myself in
conversation, and that amused him infinitely. At table, he was almost
obliged to talk to me, for the others scarcely said a word. In the
cabinet, after supper, there were none but the Duchess--[Anne of
Bavaria, wife of Henri-Jules, Duc de Bourbon, son of the great Conde; she
bore the title of Madame la Princesse after his death.]--and I who spoke
to him. I do not know whether the Dauphine used to converse with the
King in the cabinets, for while she was alive I was never permitted to
enter them, thanks to Madame de Maintenon's interference; the Dauphine
objected to it; the King would willingly have had it so; but he dare not
assert his will for fear of displeasing the Dauphine and the old woman.
I was not therefore suffered to enter until after the death of the
Dauphine, and then only because the King wished to have some one who
would talk to him in the evening, to dissipate his melancholy thoughts,
in which I did my best. He was dissatisfied with his daughters on both
sides, who, instead of trying to console him in his grief, thought only
of amusing themselves, and the good King might often have remained alone
the whole evening if I had not visited his cabinet. He was very sensible
of this, and said to Maintenon, "Madame is the only one who does not
abandon me."
Louis XIV. spoiled the Jesuits; he thought whatever came from them must
be admirable, whether it was right or wrong.
The King did not like living in town; he was convinced that the people
did not love him, and that there was no security for him among them.
Maintenon had him, besides, more under her sway at Versailles than at
Paris, where there was certainly no security for her. She was
universally detested there; and whenever she went out in a carriage the
populace shouted loud threats against her, so that at last she dared not
appear in public.
At first the King was in the habit of dining with Madame de Montespan and
his children, and then no person went to visit him but the Dauphin and
Monsieur. When Montespan was dismissed, the King had all his
illegitimate children in his cabinet: this continued until the arrival of
the last Dauphine; she intruded herself among the bastards to their great
affliction. When the Duchess--
[Louise-Francoise, commonly called Mademoiselle de Nantes, the
legitimated daughter of Madame de Montespan and the King, was
married to the Duc de Bourbon in 1685.]
became the favourite of the Dauphin, she begged that no other persons of
the royal house might have access to the cabinet; and therefore my
request for admission, although not refused, was never granted until
after the death of the Dauphin and Dauphine. The latter accompanied the
King to places where I did not, and could not go, for she even, went with
him upon occasions when decency ought to have forbidden her presence.
Maintenon did the same thing, for the purpose of having an opportunity of
talking to the King in secret.
Louis XIV. loved the young Dauphine so well that he dared refuse her
nothing; and Maintenon had so violent a hatred against me that she was
ready to do me all the mischief in her power. What could the King do
against the inclinations of his son and his granddaughter? They would
have looked cross, and that would have grieved him. I had no inclination
to cause him any vexation, and therefore preferred exercising my own
patience. When I had anything to say to the King, I requested a private
audience, which threw them all into despair, and furnished me with a good
laugh in my sleeve.
The King was so much devoted to the old usages of the Royal Palace that
he would not for the world have departed from them. Madame de Fiennes
was in the habit of saying that the Royal Family adhered so strictly to
their habits and customs that the Queen of England died with a toguet on
her head; that is, a little cap which is put upon children when they go
to bed.
When the King denied anything it was not permitted to argue with him;
what he commanded must be done quickly and without reply. He was too
much accustomed to "such is our good pleasure," to endure any
contradiction.
He was always kind and generous when he acted from his own impulses.
He never thought that his last will would be observed; and he said to
several people, "They have made me sign a will and some other papers;
I have done it for the sake of being quiet, but I know very well that it
will not stand good."
The good King was old; he stood in need of repose, and he could not enjoy
it by any other means than by doing whatever that old Maintenon wished;
thus it was that this artful hussy always accomplished her ends.
The King used always to call the Duc de Verneuil his uncle.
It has been said and believed that Louis XIV. retired from the war
against Holland through pure generosity; but I know, as well as I know my
own name that he came back solely for the purpose of seeing Madame de
Montespan, and to stay with her. I know also many examples of great
events, which in history have been attributed to policy or ambition, but
which have originated from the most insignificant trifles. It has been
said it was our King's ambition that made him resolve to become the
master of the world, and that it was for this he commenced the Dutch war;
but I know from an indisputable source that it was entered upon only
because M. de Lionne, then Minister of State, was jealous of Prince
William of Furstenberg, who had an intrigue with his wife, of which he
had been apprised. It was this that caused him to engage in those
quarrels which afterwards produced the war.
It was not surprising that the King was insensible to the scarcity which
prevailed, for in the first place he had seen nothing of it, and, in the
second, he had been told that all the reports which had reached him were
falsehoods, and that they were in no respect true. Old Maintenon
invented this plan for getting money, for she had bought up all the corn,
for the purpose of retailing it at a high price. [This does not sound
like M. Maintenon. D.W.] Everybody had been requested to say nothing
about it to the King, lest it should kill him with vexation.
The King loved my son as well as his own, but he cared little for the
girls. He was very fond of Monsieur, and he had reason to be so; never
did a child pay a more implicit obedience to its parents than did
Monsieur to the King; it was a real veneration; and the Dauphin, too, had
for him a veneration, affection and submission such as never son had for
a father. The King was inconsolable for his death. He never had much
regard for the Duke of Burgundy; the old sorceress (Maintenon) had
slandered him to the King, and made the latter believe that he was of an
ambitious temper, and was impatient at the King's living so long. She
did this in order that if the Prince should one day open his eyes, and
perceive the manner in which his wife had been educated, his complaints
might have no effect with the King, which really took place. Louis XIV.
at last thought everything that the Dauphine of Burgundy did was quite
charming; old Maintenon made him believe that her only aim was to divert
him. This old woman was to him both the law and the prophets; all that
she approved was good, and what she condemned was bad, no matter how
estimable it really was. The most innocent actions of the first Dauphine
were represented as crimes, and all the impertinences of the second were
admired.
A person who had been for many years in immediate attendance upon the
King, who had been engaged with him every evening at Maintenon's, and
who must consequently have heard everything that was said, is one of my
very good friends, and he has told me that although while the old lady
was living he dare not say a word, yet, she being dead, he was at liberty
to tell me that the King had always professed a real friendship for me.
This person has often heard with his own ears Maintenon teasing the King,
and speaking ill of me for the purpose of rendering me hateful in his
eyes, but the King always took my part. It was in reference to this,
I have no doubt, that the King said to me on his death-bed:
"They have done all they could to make me hate you, Madame, but they have
not succeeded." He added that he had always known me too well to believe
their calumnies. While he spoke thus, the old woman stood by with so
guilty an air that I could not doubt they had proceeded from her.
Monsieur often took a pleasure in diminishing or depriving me of the
King's favour, and the King was not sorry for some little occasions to
blame Monsieur. He told me once that he had embroiled me with Monsieur
by policy.
I was alarmed, and said immediately, "Perhaps your Majesty may do the
same thing again."
The King laughed, and said, "No, if I had intended to do so I should not
have told you of it; and, to say the truth, I had some scruples about it,
and have resolved never to do so again."
Upon the death of one of his children, the King asked of his old medical
attendant, M. Gueneau: "Pray, how does it happen that my illegitimate
children are healthy and live, while all the Queen's children are so
delicate and always die?" "Sire," replied Gueneau, "it is because the
Queen has only the rinsings of the glass."
He always slept in the Queen's bed, but did not always accommodate
himself to the Spanish temperament of that Princess; so that the Queen
knew he had been elsewhere. The King, nevertheless, had always great
consideration for her, and made his mistresses treat her with all
becoming respect. He loved her for her virtue, and for the sincere
affection she bore to him, notwithstanding his infidelity. He was much
affected at her death; but four days afterwards, by the chattering of old
Maintenon, he was consoled. A few days afterwards we went to
Fontainebleau, and expected to find the King in an ill-humour, and that
we should be scolded; but, on the contrary, he was very gay.
When the King returned from a journey we were all obliged to be at the
carriage as he got out, for the purpose of accompanying him to his
apartments.
While Louis XIV. was young all the women were running after him; but he
renounced this sort of life when he flattered himself that he had grown
devout. His motive was, Madame de Maintenon watched him so narrowly that
he could not, dare not, look at any one. She disgusted him with
everybody else that she might have him to herself; and this, too, under
the pretext of taking care of his soul.
Madame de Colonne had a great share of wit, and our King was so much in
love with her, that, if her uncle, the Cardinal, had consented, he would
certainly have married her. Cardinal Mazarin, although in every other
respect a worthless person, deserved to be praised for having opposed
this marriage. He sent his niece into Italy. When she was setting out,
the King wept violently. Madame de Colonne said to him, "You are a King;
you weep, and yet I go." This was saying a great deal in a few words.
As to the Comtesse de Soissons, the King had always more of friendship
than of love for her. He made her very considerable presents, the least
of which was to the amount of 2,000 louis.
Madame de Ludres, the King's mistress, was an agreeable person;
she had been Maid of Honour to Monsieur's first wife,--[Henrietta of
England.]--and after her death she entered the Queen's service, but when
these places were afterwards abolished, Monsieur took back Ludres and
Dampierre, the two Ladies of Honour he had given to the Queen. The
former was called Madame, because she was canoness of a chapter at
Lorraine.
It is said that the King never observed her beauty while she was with the
Queen, and that it was not until she was with me that he fell in love
with her. Her reign lasted only two years. Montespan told the King that
Ludres had certain ringworms upon her body, caused by a poison that had
been given her in her youth by Madame de Cantecroix. At twelve or
thirteen years of age, she had inspired the old Duc de Lorraine with so
violent a passion that he resolved to marry her at all events. The
poison caused eruptions, covered her with ringworms from head to foot,
and prevented the marriage. She was cured so well as to preserve the
beauty of her figure, but she was always subject to occasional eruptions.
Although now (1718) more than seventy years old, she is still beautiful;
she has as fine features as can be seen, but a very disagreeable manner
of speaking; she lisps horribly. She is, however, a good sort of person.
Since she has been converted she thinks of nothing but the education of
her nieces, and limits her own expenses that she may give the more to her
brother's children. She is in a convent at Nancy, which she is at
liberty to quit when she pleases. She, as well as her nieces, enjoy
pensions from the King.
I have seen Beauvais, that femme de chambre of the Queen-mother, a
one-eyed creature, who is said to have first taught the King the art of
intriguing. She was perfectly acquainted with all its mysteries, and had
led a very profligate life; she lived several years after my arrival in
France.
Louis XIV. carried his gallantries to debauchery. Provided they were
women, all were alike to him peasants, gardeners' girls, femmes de
chambre, or ladies of quality. All that they had to do was to seem to be
in love with him.
For a long time before his death, however, he had ceased to run after
women; he even exiled the Duchesse de la Ferte, because she pretended to
be dying for him. When she could not see him, she had his portrait in
her carriage to contemplate it. The King said that it made him
ridiculous, and desired her to retire to her own estate. The Duchesse de
Roquelaure, of the house of Laval, was also suspected of wishing to
captivate the King; but his Majesty was not so severe with her as with La
Ferte. There was great talk in the scandalous circles about this
intrigue; but I did not thrust my nose into the affair.
I am convinced that the Duchesse de la Valliere always loved the King
very much. Montespan loved him for ambition, La Soubise for interest,
and Maintenon for both. La Fontange loved him also, but only like the
heroine of a romance; she was a furiously romantic person. Ludres was
also very much attached to him, but the King soon got tired of her. As
for Madame de Monaco, I would not take an oath that she never intrigued
with the King. While the King was fond of her, Lauzun, who had a regular
though a secret arrangement with his cousin, fell into disgrace for the
first time. He had forbidden his fair one to see the King; but finding
her one day sitting on the ground, and talking with His Majesty, Lauzun,
who, in his place as Captain of the guard, was in the chamber, was so
transported with jealousy that he could not restrain himself, and,
pretending to pass, he trod so violently on the hand which Madame de
Monaco had placed upon the ground, that he nearly crushed it. The King,
who thus guessed at their intrigue, reprimanded him. Lauzun replied
insolently, and was sent for the first time to the Bastille.
Madame de Soubise was cunning, full of dissimulation, and very wicked.
She deceived the good Queen cruelly; but the latter rewarded her for this
in exposing her falsehood and in unmasking her to the world. As soon as
the King had undeceived Her Majesty with respect to this woman, her
history became notorious, and the Queen amused herself in relating her
triumph, as she called it, to everybody.
The King and Monsieur had been accustomed from their childhood to great
filthiness in the interior of their houses; so much so, that they did not
know it ought to be otherwise, and yet, in their persons, they, were
particularly neat.
Madame de la Motte, who had been at Chaillot, preferred the old Marquis
de Richelieu to the King. She declared to His Majesty that her heart was
no longer disposable, but that it was at length fixed.
I can never think, without anger, of the evil which has been spoken of
the late King, and how little His Majesty has been regretted by those to
whom he had done so much good.
I hardly dare repeat what the King said to me on his death-bed. All
those who were usually in his cabinet were present, with the exception of
the Princess, his daughter, the Princesse de Conti, and Madame de
Vendome, who, alone, did not see the King. The whole of the Royal Family
was assembled. He recommended his legitimated daughters to live together
in concord, and I was the innocent cause of his saying something
disagreeable to them. When the King said, "I recommend you all to be
united," I thought he alluded to me and my son's daughter; and I said,
"Yes, Monsieur, you shall be obeyed." He turned towards me, and said in
a stern voice, "Madame, you thought I spoke of you. No, no; you are a
sensible person, and I know you; it is to the Princesses, who are not so,
that I speak:"
Louis XIV. proved at his death that he was really a great man, for it
would be impossible to die with more courage than he displayed. For
eight days he had incessantly the approach of death before his eyes
without betraying fear or apprehension; he arranged everything as if he
had only been going to make a journey.
Eight or ten days before his death a disease had appeared in his leg; a
gangrene ensued, and it was this which caused his death. But for three
months preceding he had been afflicted with a slow fever, which had
reduced him so much that he looked like a lath. That old rogue, Fagon,
had brought him to this condition, by administering purgatives and
sudorifics of the most violent kind. At the instigation of
Pere Letellier, he had been tormented to death by the cursed
constitution,--[The affair of the Bull Unigenitus]--and had not been
allowed to rest day or night. Fagon was a wicked old scoundrel, much
more attached to Maintenon than to the King. When I perceived how much
it was sought to exault the Duc du Maine, and that the old woman cared
so little for the King's death, I could not help entertaining
unfavourable notions of this old rascal.
It cannot be denied that Louis XIV. was the finest man in his kingdom.
No person had a better appearance than he. His figure was agreeable, his
legs well made, his feet small, his voice pleasant; he was lusty in
proportion; and, in short, no fault could be found with his person.
Some folks thought he was too corpulent for his height, and that Monsieur
was too stout; so that it was said, by way of a joke at Court, that there
had been a mistake, and that one brother had received what had been
intended for the other. The King was in the habit of keeping his mouth
open in an awkward way.
An English gentleman, Mr. Hammer, found him an expert fencer.
He preserved his good looks up to his death, although some of my ladies,
who saw him afterwards, told me that he could scarcely be recognized.
Before his death, his stature had been diminished by a head, and he
perceived this himself.
His pronunciation was very distinct, but all his children, from the
Dauphin to the Comte de Toulouse, lisped. They used to say, Pahi,
instead of Paris.
In general, the King would have no persons at his table but members of
the Royal Family. As for the Princesses of the blood, there were so many
of them that the ordinary table would not have held them; and, indeed,
when we were all there, it was quite full.
The King used to sit in the middle, and had the Dauphin and the Duke of
Burgundy at his right, and the Dauphine and the Duchesse de Berri on his
left; on one of the sides Monsieur and I sat; and on the other, my son
and his wife; the other parts of the table were reserved for the noblemen
in waiting, who did not take their places behind the King, but opposite
to him. When the Princesses of the blood or any other ladies were
received at the King's table, we were waited on, not by noblemen, but by
other officers of the King's household, who stood behind like pages.
The King upon such occasions was waited on by his chief Maitre d'Hotel.
The pages never waited at the King's table, but on journeys; and then
upon no person but the King. The Royal Family had persons to attend them
who were not noble. Formerly all the King's officers, such as the
butler, the cupbearer, etc., etc., were persons of rank; but afterwards,
the nobility becoming poor could not afford to buy the high offices; and
they fell, of necessity, into the hands of more wealthy citizens who
could pay for them.
The King, the late Monsieur, the Dauphin, and the Duc de Berri were great
eaters. I have often seen the King eat four platefuls of different
soups, a whole pheasant, a partridge, a plateful of salad, mutton hashed
with garlic, two good-sized slices of ham, a dish of pastry, and
afterwards fruit and sweetmeats. The King and Monsieur were very fond of
hard eggs.
Louis XIV. understood perfectly the art of satisfying people even while
he reproved their requests. His manners were most affable, and he spoke
with so much politeness as to win all hearts.