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* * * * * *
_By Frances Elliot_
Old Court Life in France
_2 vols. 8°._
Old Court Life in Spain
_2 vols. 8°._
* * * * * *
OLD COURT LIFE IN FRANCE
[Illustration: Interview between Henry III. and the Duke of Guise.
From the painting by P. C. Comte.
(With permission of Levy et Fils, Paris.)]
[Illustration: [++] Title Page.]
OLD COURT LIFE IN FRANCE
by
FRANCES ELLIOT
Author of "Diary of an Idle Woman in Italy"
"Picture of Old Rome," etc.
[Illustration: [++] Colophon.]
Illustrated
VOLUME II.
G. P. Putnam's Sons
New York and London
The Knickerbocker Press
Copyright, 1893, by
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
Entered at Stationers' Hall, London
BY G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
Made in the United States of America
The Knickerbocker Press, New York
Made in the United States of America
The Knickerbocker Press, New York
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I—TEMPTED 1
II—THE KEEPER OF THE ROYAL CONSCIENCE 13
III—A NOBLE RESOLVE 20
IV—THE SACRIFICE 27
V—MONSIEUR LE GRAND 32
VI—DEATH ON THE SCAFFOLD 45
VII—THE END OF THE CARDINAL 54
VIII—THE QUEEN-REGENT 59
IX—THE DUC DE BEAUFORT 70
X—MIDNIGHT VISITORS 84
XI—THE TWO DUCHESSES 91
XII—"PUT NOT THY TRUST IN PRINCES" 102
XIII—CHARLES STUART 112
XIV—THE LADIES' WAR 122
XV—MAZARIN PLAYED OUT 128
XVI—LOUISE DE LA VALLIÈRE 139
XVII—THE CONVENT OF CHAILLOT 156
XVIII—FOUQUET, SUPERINTENDENT OF FINANCE 167
XIX—DEATH AND POISON 179
XX—AT VERSAILLES 192
XXI—MADAME DE MONTESPAN 200
XXII—BROKEN-HEARTED 208
XXIII—M. DE LAUZUN AND "MADEMOISELLE" 220
XXIV—A FAIR SUITOR 230
XXV—UNDER A COUCH 242
XXVI—SIGNING THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT 252
XXVII—PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT 258
XXVIII—THE ROYAL GOVERNESS 268
XXIX—CONNUBIAL BLISS 283
XXX—FALL OF DE MONTESPAN 293
XXXI—QUEEN MAINTENON 302
XXXII—AT MARLY 311
XXXIII—"THE END" 317
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
INTERVIEW BETWEEN HENRY III. AND THE DUKE OF GUISE _Frontispiece_
From the painting by P. C. Comte.
(With permission of Levy et Fils, Paris.)
THE OLD LOUVRE 2
From an old print.
THE PALAIS ROYAL, PARIS 5
SALON OF LOUIS XIII. AT FONTAINEBLEAU 20
LOUISE DE LAFAYETTE 26
From Monmerqué's "Tallemant des Réaux."
MARQUIS DE CINQ-MARS 37
From a painting by Lenain.
VICOMTE DE TURENNE 62
PRINCE DE CONDÉ 69
CARDINAL MAZARIN AS AN ART COLLECTOR 70
From a painting by H. J. Vetter.
(By permission of Neurdein Frères, Paris.)
VINCENNES 84
CARDINAL DE RETZ 87
ANNE OF AUSTRIA 90
DUCHESSE DE CHEVREUSE 110
DUCHESSE DE LONGUEVILLE 123
MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE 158
From a steel engraving.
FOUQUET 168
COLBERT 176
MARIA THERESA 181
GALLERY OF HENRY II. AT FONTAINEBLEAU 191
VERSAILLES FROM THE PIÈCE D'EAU DES SUISSES 193
From an engraving by Rigaud.
MADAME DE MONTESPAN 211
VIEW OF THE LUXEMBOURG (LATER CALLED THE PALAIS, D'ORLÉANS)
IN THE 17TH CENTURY 242
From an old print.
LOUVOIS 258
BEDCHAMBER OF LOUIS XIV. AT VERSAILLES 259
LOUIS XIV. 266
MADAME DE SÉVIGNÉ 270
From an old engraving.
MADAME DE MAINTENON 286
DUC D'ORLÉANS 310
OLD COURT LIFE IN FRANCE.
CHAPTER I.
TEMPTED.
News came from the army announcing brilliant success. The valour of
the King was specially extolled; he was no longer a bashful, feeble
prince, victimised by feminine cabals, tyrannised over by Richelieu. He
had suddenly become a warrior, foremost in danger, leading his troops
in person into the hottest of the fray. Each day his absence lasted,
and every fresh intelligence that arrived, added to the excitement
of Louise de Lafayette. The danger to which he was exposed made her
tremble.
She eagerly desired his return, not for the mere pleasure of seeing and
conversing with him (though that was very dear to her), but because
she was sure that the time had come when he would himself hold the
reins of government, and display all that nobleness of character with
which her romantic fancy had invested him. Such, at least, was the
conviction, however delusive, of the pretty maid of honour, who, lost
in contemplation of the King's virtues, failed to perceive the state of
her own heart.
At length the campaign terminated. Louis had re-taken all the places
conquered by the Spaniards. They were in full retreat. The King
returned to Paris, which, not having been considered out of danger
from the attacks of the enemy, received him with transports of joy.
Mademoiselle de Lafayette, a witness of the universal enthusiasm, saw
in Louis the worthy successor of Henry the Great, and the inheritor
of all his glory. Intoxicated by these dreams, she imagined that even
her advice would be in future needless—that the King of his own accord
would suppress the arrogance of Richelieu, and from henceforth exercise
the royal authority alone.
The following day, the Court being at the Louvre, Louis visited the
Queen at her lever. As he returned into the anteroom, he approached
Louise de Lafayette. She was too much agitated even to welcome him.
That Louis was also greatly moved was evident. The pallor that always
overspread his face when excited, was almost death-like, and every
feature worked convulsively. For some moments they stood opposite to
each other, without saying a word. Then, overmastering his agitation,
Louis spoke to her in a low voice:—"I know not, mademoiselle, when we
shall be able to resume those conversations which were so infinitely
delightful—I am overwhelmed with business." Then, after glancing round,
and seeing that every one had retired, he seized her hand and kissed it
tenderly.
"Ah! so much the better," said Louise, beaming with smiles. "May you,
Sire, ever be thus occupied."
[Illustration: THE OLD LOUVRE.
FROM AN OLD PRINT.]
"Do you want to banish me, then, just as I am returned?" said he,
retaining her hand in both of his.
"No, Sire; but I want to see you reign."
"You have heard me blamed for my indolence? I am sure you have. All I
ask is, that you will wait and judge for yourself. The Court is filled
with my enemies." He spoke with animation.
"Sire, I need not wait," replied the maid of honour eagerly, her liquid
eyes, full of faith and affection, turned upon him, "I have long ago
decided in your favour."
"May you never change!" ejaculated Louis fervently. "It would console
me for a world of injustice. I must now leave you," and he pressed her
hand again and raised it to his lips.
The eagerness with which Louis applied himself to state affairs after
his return, evoked much mirth and ridicule among the ladies of the
Court. Louise de Lafayette was pained. When Madame de Sennécy declared
that his Majesty's industry could not possibly last, she was offended
in the highest degree. The Cardinal, too, was openly abused for the
military appointments he had made during the war by these fair critics,
whereupon Louise, who dared not openly defend the King, endeavoured to
justify him by exonerating the Cardinal. One morning, when both King
and minister had been bitterly attacked in the anteroom, before the
Queen had left her apartments, Louise remarked to those around her
that the Cardinal, though unpopular, was undeniably great; that he had
founded the Académie Française, rebuilt the Sorbonne, established the
Royal Printing Press, founded the Jardin des Plantes, and that, as a
minister, he was brave, daring, and wise.
These sentiments caused great surprise, for Mademoiselle de Lafayette
had hitherto by no means spared Richelieu. The Duchesse de Sennécy
openly rebuked her for what she styled her "hypocrisy," and sent her in
tears to her room. Her words, however, were immediately reported to the
Cardinal by Chavigny, a gentleman of the bedchamber, who was present,
one of the many salaried Court spies in his pay. Chavigny particularly
dwelt upon the earnestness of the maid of honour, and assured the
Cardinal that she could only have so expressed herself in order to gain
his favour.
No sooner had Chavigny left the Palais Royal than the Comte de la
Meilleraye, a distant relation of Richelieu, requested an audience. La
Meilleraye was also in attendance on the King. He had come, as he said,
to ask a great favour of his all-powerful cousin. Would the Cardinal
assist him to a most advantageous marriage with a lady to whom he
was devoted—Mademoiselle de Lafayette? From the first moment he had
seen her, he said, her beauty, her elegance, her modest bearing and
simplicity—qualities so rare in the Court circle—had enchanted him.
Thus spoke the Comte de la Meilleraye. Richelieu listened graciously.
He liked by all legitimate means to advance his family, and if the maid
of honour was his partisan, as Chavigny had reported, nothing could be
more expedient than such a marriage. He promised therefore to consult
the King at once, and to endeavour to obtain his permission, warning
La Meilleraye to do nothing in the matter until he had heard again from
him.
[Illustration: THE PALAIS ROYAL, PARIS.]
The morning Council of State over, Richelieu accompanied the King into
his writing closet, to discuss in private some important matters.
As the Queen's coterie had predicted, Louis soon wearied of business;
everything was now replaced, as before, in the hands of the minister.
Louis leant back in his chair. He scarcely heard the Cardinal's remarks.
From time to time, when specially appealed to, he bowed his head in
acquiescence. Then turning away his eyes abstractedly towards the
windows, which faced the inner court, he anxiously watched the driving
clouds that scudded across the sky. He had fixed a hunting-party at
Rambouillet, and longed to start as soon as the weather cleared, and
Richelieu had left him.
The mellow voice of the Cardinal, who, however imperative in action,
never startled his feeble master by any outward display of vehemence,
had continued speaking for some time, in a monotonous tone, when the
King, seeing the sunshine appear, suddenly rose.
"Your eminence has, I imagine, done with me for to-day," said he,
looking eagerly towards the door.
"Yes, Sire; but there is still a trifling matter upon which I would ask
your decision."
"Pray mention it," replied Louis, tapping his boots with a riding-whip
he had taken off a table.
"My relative, the Comte de la Meilleraye, begs your permission to
marry."
"Willingly," replied Louis; "who is the fair lady, Cardinal?"
"It is Mademoiselle Louise de Lafayette, Sire, maid of honour to the
Queen."
If a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet, Louis could not have been
more overcome. He turned perfectly livid, took a long breath, tottered
backwards and sat down again. The all-seeing eyes of the Cardinal were
fixed upon him; he did not speak, but watched his master. Louis for
some moments did not raise his head; then he heaved a deep sigh, and
with much effort, in a strangely different voice, asked faintly—
"Does Mademoiselle de Lafayette herself desire this marriage?"
Richelieu had turned away, and affecting to be busied with some books
and papers lying on the table, replied in an indifferent manner—
"As yet, Sire, we are unacquainted with the lady's sentiments; but, as
I am informed she has no other attachment, I cannot but believe such an
alliance as that of my cousin will be acceptable to her."
The nervous spasm with which it was evident the King had awaited this
reply instantly relaxed. The colour returned to his cheeks, his eyes
brightened, and he stood up—
"Before I can decide anything," said he, "I must know Mademoiselle de
Lafayette's feelings; acquaint me with them speedily."
He spoke in a firm, decided way, very unusual with him.
The Cardinal drew his own conclusions.
* * * * *
By-and-by Chavigny informed Richelieu that Mademoiselle de Lafayette
had at once, and unhesitatingly, refused the hand of the Count.
Richelieu only smiled. "I knew it. The King, my good Chavigny, is in
love with her himself. She returns it. They understand each other.
Chavigny, I must see this foolish girl, who ventures to mix herself up
with his Majesty. I must personally acquaint myself with her feelings."
"Your Eminence will find it most difficult to speak with her in
private. The Duchesse de Sennécy proposes giving a masked ball, at
which her Majesty and the Court will be present; would that suit your
plans?"
"Not at all," replied Richelieu. "When I speak there must be no mask.
I must study her countenance. She is young and disingenuous. I shall
read her inmost thoughts. She has not been long enough at Court to have
learnt dissimulation. I must see her before the King leaves Paris. We
can meet at my niece's, the Duchesse de Combalet."
"Mademoiselle de Lafayette could only feel honoured by such a summons
from your Eminence," replied Chavigny.
"Yes, I fancy she will accept the offers I shall make her, unless she
is an absolute idiot."
Mademoiselle de Lafayette was duly invited to a _déjeûner_ at the
Palais Cardinal by the Duchesse de Combalet, who received her alone.
During breakfast her hostess said everything that could flatter and
please her. She praised her dress and her appearance. She was so
simple, so unselfish, so different from the other maids of honour, the
Duchess said. Then she went on to inform her that she knew the Cardinal
had the highest opinion of her; that he had often expressed his
admiration of her character and her person to herself, the Duchess.
"It is very unusual with him, Mademoiselle, to speak to me about the
Queen's ladies; he is too much engrossed with state affairs, too
serious to notice them. But you are an exception; you have made a deep
impression on my uncle."
Louise bowed, grew red and white by turns, and listened in wondering
silence.
Suddenly the door opened, and Cardinal Richelieu appeared, followed
by two favourite cats. Smiling benignly, he received the maid of
honour with great condescension. Mademoiselle de Lafayette rose at his
entrance, and was about to withdraw, when he took her hand and insisted
on her reseating herself.
The Duchesse de Combalet spoke with him on general subjects, and
constantly appealed to Louise for her opinion. She gave it with her
usual modest frankness. Everything she said was applauded by the
Cardinal. He put forth all his powers to please her.
In about half an hour a servant entered and whispered to the Duchess.
She affected great annoyance at the interruption, and begged the
Cardinal and her guest to excuse her for a quarter of an hour, while
she gave some directions. "Besides," said she, and she turned with a
meaning look to the maid of honour, "I know that his Eminence wants
to have a little private conversation with you about our cousin De
la Meilleraye, whom you have so cruelly refused. Poor man! he is in
despair. I shall return in a few minutes." Saying which she kissed
Mademoiselle de Lafayette on both cheeks, and withdrew.
Richelieu and the maid of honour were now alone. The Cardinal was no
longer the dissolute prelate of other days, the adorer of two queens
of France, the slave of Madame de Chevreuse, the lover of Marion de
l'Orme. The life of labour he led would have long ago killed any but
a man of his iron will and calm temperament. He never slept more
than three hours at a time, and literally worked day and night. At
eight o'clock in the morning he was astir, ready to receive spies,
generals, and ministers, suppliants, and princes, who were already
waiting in the anteroom. He was as active as a Roman senator, with a
hundred clients assembled in his portico. His cheeks were pinched and
sunken; his face sallow; his thin lips colourless; his brow, a network
of those fine wrinkles that come of excessive thought. Even his eyes
were dull, and half concealed by his eyelids, though on occasions they
would still shoot forth sparks of fire. The straight hair that lay upon
his forehead, under his red _calotte_, was scanty and almost white.
Altogether, his appearance was that of a man physically worn-out, and
indicative of his painful illness and somewhat premature death. But the
spirit of the man was strong within him, and a consciousness of latent
power disclosed itself in every feature.
As he leant back in a spacious arm-chair, the two cats nestled on his
knees, he bent his half-closed eyes upon Louise with almost feline
cunning. Those half-closed eyes alone betrayed his nature; otherwise,
his countenance expressed nothing but tranquil enjoyment.
"Mademoiselle de Lafayette," he said in a soft, musical voice that
struck pleasantly upon the ear, "I have both to reproach you and to
thank you." Louise looked at him with surprise. "Yes, I thank you for
the favour with which I hear you speak of me; and I reproach you for
having hitherto concealed from me your good opinion. I am desirous to
see you become a member of my family. I hope you will marry my cousin.
But, believe me, the ties of gratitude are stronger with me than those
of blood. Mademoiselle, I wish to be your friend." Louise bowed her
head with great respect, but felt bewildered.
Richelieu piqued himself on being a great physiognomist. He had
made a special study of the human countenance. He saw that the face
of Mademoiselle de Lafayette was totally untroubled. Her perfect
self-possession astonished him. The phrase he had uttered—"I wish to
be your friend," solemn words, indeed, from the mouth of Richelieu—had
caused in her no change of expression! Her composed demeanour was, in
the eyes of the Cardinal, an additional reason for securing her as a
partisan. He had before much desired to gain her to himself, but he now
came to attach an immense importance to success.
"I am very grateful for your Eminence's kind expressions," said Louise
at last, with great modesty, but with equal firmness; "but I do not
wish to marry. If the offer of your friendship involves any sacrifice
of my freedom, I must, with sorrow, decline it. I seek nothing, your
Eminence. I need no protection." There was a quiet dignity in her words
and manner that took the Cardinal aback. He said nothing; but his
eyes, now fully open and glistening, rested on the maid of honour with
surprise and displeasure.
Yet the real loftiness of soul she displayed, the indifference with
which she ignored his offers, appeared to him so unaccountable that
he could only imagine she wished to extract from him some terms more
definite and decided. This idea gave him courage to recommence the
attack.
"Let us be frank," said he, smiling. "I know all."
"What do you mean, monseigneur?"
"The King loves you. The purity of his heart and his high principles
may allow you to confess it. He loves you. And his interest, as well as
your own, requires that we should be friends."
Mademoiselle de Lafayette grew very pale; she trembled, but did not for
a moment lose her presence of mind. "To what sort of friendship does
your Eminence allude?"
"An entire confidence on your part, and an active acknowledgment on
mine."
The Cardinal was on the point of promising her titles, estates, and
pensions; but Mademoiselle de Lafayette, who, with downcast eyes,
listened to him in silence, all at once looked up fixedly into his
face. This look stopped him short.
"Your Eminence," said she, "can only wish me to give my personal
confidence. In honour I could promise no other. But I _have_ no
secrets, no concealments. I am without ambition, I desire no favour.
Besides, I am sure that your Eminence will at once understand me when
I say—that, if ever it were the pleasure of his Majesty to repose
confidence in me—_there is no temptation, no power on earth_, that
would induce me to betray it." As she spoke, she looked straight at the
Cardinal. The colour returned to her cheeks, and she sat erect—gentle,
yet infinitely bold.
Richelieu reddened, but he suppressed his rising indignation. "The
confidence of a great King," replied he solemnly, a dark fire darting
from his eyes, "can only be properly accepted when the person to
whom it is addressed is capable of offering real assistance to the
sovereign. I propose, Mademoiselle de Lafayette, to render you capable
of imparting such assistance. Whatever may be your natural sense and
penetration, this is an occasion in which experience alone is valuable."
"But does not your Eminence think that rectitude of purpose——"
"It is evident that you are little versed in the intrigues of courts,
mademoiselle," answered he loftily, eying her with haughty disdain.
"Perhaps some day you will discover that the offer I have made you of
my esteem and assistance is not to be despised."
"No one can attach a higher value than I do to the good opinion of
your Eminence," interposed Mademoiselle de Lafayette with warmth; "but
I do not think you have at all proved it in what you have just said.
Although I think I deserve it," she added timidly.
The Cardinal contemplated her attentively for some moments. His face
was set, his eyes flashed, and his hands which were clenched rested
on his knees. "I have only one word more to add," said he in an angry
voice. "Any idea of favour with the King without my support is a
delusion." He was rapidly losing self-restraint. This girl had lashed
him into a fury. She saw it, but felt no fear.
"Your Eminence, I think only of my duty," she replied with firmness. "I
fear no threats. I can make no promise."
At these words the Cardinal rose. His face was swollen with passion; a
wicked fire gleamed in his eyes; her coolness transported him beyond
endurance. "Once more, Mademoiselle de Lafayette, remember what I say.
My resolutions are unalterable; I trample down everything. Without my
assistance, beware! Think of the future. Recall the past. My enemies
are rotting in their graves—my friends rule France." Then, speaking
more calmly, he added, "You are too great a fool to understand what you
are doing. I can pardon your presumption, however, because I know how
to cure it. Mademoiselle de Lafayette, you may withdraw."