The Memoirs of Madame de Montespan, Complete

M >> Madame La Marquise De Montespan >> The Memoirs of Madame de Montespan, Complete


This ill-advised behaviour did not improve his position. Madame, his
wife, continued to come to Versailles on gala-days, or days of reunion,
but he and his brother appeared there less and less frequently. They
were exceedingly handsome, both of them; not through their father, whose
huge nose had rendered him ridiculous, but through the Princess, their
mother, Anna or Felicia de Martinozzi, niece of Cardinal Mazarin. God
had surpassed himself in creating that graceful head, and those eyes will
never have their match in sweetness and beauty.

Free now to follow his own tastes, which only policy had induced him to
dissimulate and constrain, M. de Conti allowed himself all that a young
prince, rich and pleasure-loving, could possibly wish in this world. In
the midst of these reunions, consecrated to pleasure, and even to
debauchery, he loved to signalise his lordly liberality; nothing could
stop him, nothing was too extravagant for him. His passion was to remove
all obstacles and pay for everybody.

His joyous companions cried out with admiration, and celebrated, in prose
and verse, so noble a taste and virtues so rare. The young orphan
inhaled this incense with delight; he contracted enormous debts, and soon
did not know where to turn to pay them.

The King, well informed of these excesses, commanded M. le Duc de la
Feuillade to have the young man followed, and inform himself of all he
did.

One day, when M. de la Feuillade himself had followed him too closely,
and forced him, for the space of an hour, to scour over all Le Marais in
useless and fatiguing zigzags, M. de Conti, who recognised him perfectly,
in spite of his disguise, pretended that his watch, set with diamonds,
had been stolen. He pointed out this man as the thief to his ready
servingmen, who fell upon M. de la Feuillade, and, stripping him to find
the watch, gave the Prince time to escape and reach his place of
rendezvous.

The captain was ill for several days, and even in danger, in consequence
of this adventure, which did not improve the credit of M. le Prince de
Conti, much as it needed improvement.

His young and beautiful wife excused him in everything, ignoring, and
wishing to ignore, the extent of his guilt and frivolity.




CHAPTER XXXI.

A Funeral and Diversions.--Sinister Dream.--Funeral Orations of the
Queen.


It remains for me to relate certain rather curious circumstances in
relation to the late Queen, after which I shall speak of her no more in
these Memoirs.

She was left for ten days, lying in state, in the mortuary chapel of
Versailles, where mass was being said by priests at four altars from
morning till evening. She was finally removed from this magnificent
Palace of Enchantment to Saint Denis. Numerous carriages followed the
funeral car, and in all these carriages were the high officials, as well
as the ladies, who had belonged to her. But what barbarity! what
ingratitude! what a scandal! In all these mournful carriages, people
talked and laughed and made themselves agreeable; and the body-guards, as
well as the gendarmes and musketeers, took turns to ride their horses
into the open plain and shoot at the birds.

Monsieur le Dauphin, after Saint Denis, went to lie at the Tuileries,
before betaking himself to the service on the following day at Notre
Dame. In the evening, instead of remaining alone and in seclusion in his
apartment, as a good son ought to have done, he went to the Palais Royal
to see the Princess Palatine and her husband, whom he had had with him
all the day; he must have distraction, amusement, and even merry
conversations, such as simple bourgeois would not permit themselves on so
solemn an occasion, were it only out of decorum.

In the midst of these ridiculous and indefensible conversations, the news
arrived that the King had broken his arm. The Marquis de Mosny had
started on the instant in order to inform the young Prince of it; and Du
Saussoi, equerry of his Majesty, arrived half an hour later, giving the
same news with the details.

The King (who was hunting during the obsequies of his wife) had fallen
off his horse, which he had not been able to prevent from stumbling into
a ditch full of tall grass and foliage. M. Felix, a skilful and prudent
surgeon, had just set the arm, which was only put out of joint. The King
sent word to the Dauphin not to leave the Tuileries, and to attend the
funeral ceremony on the morrow.

The fair of Saint Laurence was being held at this moment, although the
city of Paris had manifested an intention of postponing it. They were
exhibiting to the curious a little wise horse which bowed, calculated,
guessed, answered questions, and performed marvels. The King had
strictly forbidden his family and the people of the Court to let
themselves be seen at this fair. Monsieur le Dauphin, none the less,
wished to contemplate, with his own eyes, this extraordinary and
wonderful little horse. Consequently, he had to be taken to the Chateau
des Tuileries, where he took a puerile amusement in a spectacle in itself
trivial, and, at such a time, scandalous.

The poor Queen would have died of grief if the death of her son had
preceded hers, against the order of nature; but the hearts of our
children are not disposed like ours, and who knows how I shall be treated
myself by mine when I am gone?

With regard to the King's arm, Madame d'Orleans, during the service for
the Queen, was pleased to relate to the Grande Mademoiselle that, three
or four days before, she had seen, in a somewhat troublesome and painful
dream, the King's horse run away, and throw him upon the rocks and
brambles of a precipice, from which he was rescued with a broken arm. A
lady observed that dreams are but vague and uncertain indications.

"Not mine," replied Madame, with ardour; "they are not like others. Five
or six days before the Queen fell ill, I told her, in the presence of
Madame la Dauphine, that I had a most alarming dream. I had dreamt that
I was in a large church all draped in black. I advanced to the
sanctuary; a vault was opened at one side of the altar. Some kind of
priests went down, and these folk said aloud, as they came up again, that
they had found no place at first; that the cavity having seemed to them
too long and deep, they had arranged the biers, and had placed there the
body of the lady. At that point I awoke, quite startled, and not
myself."

Hardly had the Princess finished her story, when the Infanta, turning
pale, said to her: "Madame, you will see, the dream of the vault refers
to me. At the funeral of the Queen of England I noticed, and remember,
that the same difficulty occurred at Saint Denis; they were obliged to
push up all the coffins, one against the other."

And, in truth, we knew, a few days afterwards, that for this poor Queen,
Maria Theresa, the monks of the abbey had found it necessary to break
down a strong barrier of stones in their subterranean church, to remove
the first wife of Gaston, mother of Mademoiselle, and find a place for
the Spanish Queen who had arrived in those regions.

There were several funeral orations on this occasion. Not a single one
of these official discourses deserved to survive the Queen. There was
very little to say about her, I admit; but these professional
panegyrists, these liars in surplice, in black cassock, or in purple and
mitre, are not too scrupulous to borrow facts and material in cases where
the dead person has neglected to furnish or bequeath it them.

In my own case I congratulated myself on this sort of indifference or
literary penury; an indiscreet person, sustained by zeal or talent, might
have wished to mortify me in a romance combined of satire and religion.




CHAPTER XXXII.

Jean Baptiste Colbert.--His Death.--His Great Works.--His Last Advice to
the Marquise.


M. Colbert had been ailing for a long time past. His face bore visible
testimony against his health, to which his accumulated and incessant
labour had caused the greatest injury. We had just married his son
Blainville to my niece, Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente, heiress of the
house of Rochchouart. Since this union--the King's work--M. Colbert had
somewhat tended in my favour, and I had reason to count on his good
offices and kindness. I said to him one day that my quarrel with him was
that he did not look after himself, that he ignored all his own worth,
treated himself with no more respect than a mere clerk; that he was the
indispensable man, the right hand of the King, his eye of vigilance in
everything, and the pillar of his business and his finance.

Without being precisely what one would call a modest man, M. Colbert was
calm of mind, and by nature without pose or presumption. He cared
sincerely for the King's glory. He held his tongue on the subject of
great enterprises, but employed much zeal and ability in promoting the
success of good projects and ideas, such as, for instance, our Indies and
Pondicherry.

He had known how to procure, without oppressing any one, the incalculable
sums that had been necessitated, not only by enormous and almost
universal wars, but by all those canals, all those ports in the
Mediterranean or the ocean, that vast creation of vessels, arsenals,
foundries, military houses and hospitals which we had seen springing up
in all parts. He had procured by his application, his careful
calculations, the wherewithal to build innumerable fortresses, aqueducts,
fountains, bridges, the Observatory of Paris, the Royal Hospital of the
Invalides, the chateaus of the Tuileries and of Vincennes, the engine and
chateau of Marly, that prodigious chateau of Versailles, with its Trianon
of marble, which by itself might have served as a habitation for the
richest monarchs of the Orient.

He had founded the wonderful glass factories, and those of the Gobelins;
he had raised, as though by a magic ring, the Royal Library over the
gardens and galleries of Mazarin; and foreigners asked one another, in
their surprise, what they must admire most in that monument, the interior
pomp of the edifice or its rich collection of books, coins, and
manuscripts.

To all these works, more than sufficient to immortalise twenty ministers,
M. Colbert was adding at this moment the huge 'salpetriere' of Paris and
the colonnades of the Louvre. Ruthless death came to seize him in the
midst of these occupations, so noble, useful, and glorious.

The great Colbert, worn out with fatigue, watching, and constraint, left
the King, his wife, his children, his honours, his well-earned riches,
and displayed no other anxiety than alarm as to his salvation,--as though
so many services rendered to the nation and to his prince were no more,
in his eyes, than vain works in relation to eternity.

Madame de Maintenon, having become a great lady, could, not reasonably
continue her office of governess to the King's children. M. Colbert,
that man of vigour, that Mount Atlas, capable of supporting all things
without a plaint, had been charged with the care of the two new-born
princes.

Because of the third Mademoiselle de Blois, and of the little Comte de
Toulouse, I saw the minister frequently, and I was one of the first to
remark the change in his face and his health.

During his last illness, I visited him more often. One day, of his own
accord, he said to me:

"How do you get on with Madame de Maintenon? I have never heard her
complain of you; but I make you this confidence out of friendship. His
Majesty complains of your attitude towards your former friend. If the
frankness of your nature and the impatience of your humour have sometimes
led you too far, I exhort you to moderate yourself, in your own interest
and in that of your children. Madame de Maintenon is an amiable and
witty person, whose society pleases the King. Have this consideration
for a hard-working prince, whom intellectual recreation relaxes and
diverts, and make a third at those pleasant gatherings where you shone
long before this lady, and where you would never be her inferior. Go
there, and frequently, instead of keeping at a distance in an attitude of
resentment, which, do not doubt, is noticed and viewed unfavourably."

"But, monsieur," I answered M. Colbert, "you are not, then, aware that
every time I am a third person at one of these interminable
conversations, I always meet with some mark of disapproval, and sometimes
with painful mortifications?"

"I have been told so," the sick man replied; "but I have also been told
that you imprudently call down on yourself these outbursts of the King.
What need have you to quarrel with Madame de Maintenon over a look, a
word, a movement or a gesture? You seem to me persuaded that love enters
into the King's friendship for the Marquise. Well, suppose you have
guessed aright his Majesty's sentiments; will your dissatisfaction and
your sarcasms prevent those sentiments from existing, and the prince from
indulging them?

"You know, madame, that he generally gets everything he wants, and M. de
Montespan experienced that when he wished to set himself against your
joint wills.

"I am nearer my end and my release than my doctors think. In leaving
this whirlpool of disappointments, ambitions, errors, and mutual
injustice, I should like to see you free, at peace, reconciled to your
real interests, and out of reach, forever, of the vicissitudes of
fortune. In my eyes, your position is that of a ship-owner whom the
ocean has constantly favoured, and who has reaped great riches. With
moderation and prudence, it depended on himself to profit by his
astonishing success, and at last to enjoy his life; but ambition and vain
desire drive him afresh upon this sea, so fruitful in shipwrecks, and his
last venture destroys all his prosperity and all his many labours.

"Our excellent Queen has gone to rest from her troubles and her journeys;
and I, madame, am going to rest not long after her, having worn out my
strength on great things that are as nothing."

The Marquis de Seignelay, eldest son of this minister, counted on
succeeding to the principal offices of his father. He made a mistake.
The place of secretary of state and controller-general passed to the
President Pelletier, who had been chosen by M. Colbert himself; and the
superintendence of buildings, gardens, and works went to swell the
numerous functions of the Marquis de Louvois, who wished for and counted
on it.

MM. de Blainville and Seignelay had good posts, proportioned to their
capacity; the King never ceased to look upon them as the children of his
dear M. Colbert.

[It mast be remembered that the young Marquis de Seignelay was already
Minister of Marine, an office which remained with him.--Ed.]

Before his death, this minister saw his three daughters become duchesses.
The King, who had been pleased to make these marriages, had given each of
them a dowry of a million in cash.

As for the Abbe Colbert, already promoted to the Bishopric of Montpellier
(to which three important abbeys were joined), he had the Archbishopric
of Toulouse, with an immense revenue. It is true that he took a pleasure
in rebuilding his archiepiscopal palace and cathedral out of a huge and
ancient treasure, which he discovered whilst pulling down some old ruin
to make a salon.

One might say that there was some force of attraction attached to this
family and name of Colbert. Treasures arose from the earth to give
themselves up and obey them.




CHAPTER XXXIII.

Mesdemoiselles de Mazarin.--The Age of Puberty.--Madame de
Beauvais.--Anger of the Queen-mother.--The Cardinal's Policy.--First
Love.--Louis de Beauvais.--The Abbe de Rohan-Soubise.--The Emerald's
Lying-in.--The Handsome Musketeer.--The Counterfeit of the King.


At the time when the King, still very young, was submitting without
impatience to the authority of the Queen, his mother, and his godfather,
the Cardinal, his strength underwent a sudden development, and this lad
became, all at once, a man. The numerous nieces of Cardinal Mazarin, who
were particularly dear to the Queen, were as much at the Louvre as at
their own home. Anne of Austria, naturally affable, gladly released them
from the etiquette which was imposed upon every one else. These young
ladies played and laughed, sang or frolicked, after the manner of their
years, and the young King lived frankly and gaily in their midst, as one
lives with agreeable sisters, when one is happy enough to have such. He
lived fraternally with these pretty Italian girls, but his intimacy
stopped there, since the Cardinal and the governess watched night and day
over a young man who was greatly subject to surveillance.

At the same time, there was amongst the Queen's women a rather pretty
waiting-maid, well brought up, who was called Madame de Beauvais. Those
brunettes, with black eyes, bright complexions, and graceful plumpness,
are almost always wanton and alluring. Madame de Beauvais noticed the
sudden development of the monarch, his impassioned reveries which
betrayed themselves in his gaze. She thought she had detected intentions
on his part, and an imperious need of explaining himself. A word, which
was said to her in passing, authorised her, or seemed to authorise her,
to make an almost intelligible reply. The young wooer showed himself
less undecided, less enigmatic,--and the understanding was completed.

Madame de Beauvais was the recipient of the prince's first emotions, and
the clandestine connection lasted for three months. Anne of Austria,
informed of what was passing, wished at first to punish her first maid in
waiting; but the Cardinal, more circumspect, represented to her that this
connection, of which no one knew, was an occupation, not to say a
safeguard, for the young King, whose fine constitution and health
naturally drew him to the things of life. "Although eighteen years of
age," he added, "the prince abandons the whole authority to you; whereas
another, in his place, would ardently dispute it. Do not let us quarrel
with him about trifles; leave him his Beauvais lady, so that he may make
no attempt on my pretty nieces nor on your authority, madame, nor on my
important occupations, which are for the good of the State."

Anne of Austria, who was more a Christian and a mother than a diplomatic
woman, found it very painful to appreciate these arguments of the
Cardinal; but after some reflection she recognised their importance, and
things remained as they were.

Madame de Beauvais had a son, whom the husband (whether overconfident or
not) saw brought into the world with much delight, and whom, with a
wealth of royalist respect, they baptised under the agreeable name of
Louis. This child, who had a fine figure and constitution, received a
particularly careful education. He has something of the King about him,
principally in his glance and smile. He presents, however, only the
intellectual habit of his mother, and even a notable absence of grandeur
and elevation. He is a very pretty waiting-woman, dressed out as a
cavalier; in a word, he is that pliant and indefatigable courtier, whom
we see everywhere, and whom town and Court greet by the name of Baron de
Beauvais.

His sister is the Duchesse de Richelieu, true daughter of her father, as
ugly, or rather as lacking in charm, as he is; but replete with subtilty
and intelligence,--with that intelligence which perpetually suggests a
humble origin, and which wearies or importunes, because of its
ill-nature. At the age of seventeen, her freshness made her pass for
being pretty. She accused the young Duc de Richelieu of having seduced
her, and made her a mother; and he, in his fear of her indignation and
intrigues, and of the reproaches of the Queen, hastened to confess his
fault, and to repair everything by marrying her.

Baron Louis, her brother, to whom the King could hardly refuse anything,
made her a lady of honour to the Dauphine. Madame de Richelieu delighted
to spread a report in the world that I had procured her this office; she
was deceived, and wished to be deceived. I had asked this eminent
position for the Marquise de Thianges, in whom I was interested very
differently. His Majesty decided that a marquise was inferior to a
duchess, even when that duchess was born a De Beauvais. Another son of
the monarch, well known at the Court as such, is M. l'Abbe de
Rohan-Soubise, to whom the cardinal's hat is already promised. His
figure, his carriage, his head, his attitude, his whole person infallibly
reveal him; and the Prince de Soubise has so thoroughly recognised and
understood the deceit, that he honours the young churchman with all his
indifference and his respect. He acts with him as a sort of guardian;
and that is the limitation of his role.

The Princesse de Soubise, who had resolved to advance her careless
husband, either to the government of Brittany or to some ministry,
persuaded herself that it is only by women that men can be advanced; and
that in order to advance a husband, it is necessary to advance oneself.
Although a little thin, and lacking that of which the King is so fond, we
saw in her a very pretty woman. She knew how to persuade his Majesty
that she cherished for him the tenderest love. That is, I believe, the
one trap that it is possible to set for him. He is credulous on that
head; he was speedily caught. And every time that M. de Rohan was away,
and there was freedom at the Hotel Soubise, the Princess came in person
to Saint Germain or to Versailles, to show her necklace and pendant of
emeralds to the King. Such was the agreed signal.

The Abbe de Rohan was born of these emeralds. The King displays
conscience in all his actions, except in his wars and conquests. When
the little Soubise was grown up, his Majesty signified to the mother that
this young man must enter the Church, not wishing to suffer the formation
of a parasitical branch amongst the Rohans, which would have
participated, without any right, in the legitimate sap. It is asserted
that the Abbe de Rohan only submitted with infinite regret to a sentence
which neutralised him. The King has promised him all possible
consideration; he has even embraced him tenderly, an action which is
almost equivalent to a "declaration of degree" made to the Parliament.

The other child alleged to the King is that handsome musketeer, who is so
like him. But, judging from the King's character, which respects, and in
some fashion almost admires itself, in everything which proceeds from it,
I do not venture to believe in this musketeer. The King wished one day
to see him close by, and even accosted him by the orange-shrubbery; but
this movement seemed to me one of pure curiosity.

The resemblance, I must confess, is the most striking that I have yet
seen; for it is complete, even to the tone of the voice. But a look
might have operated this miracle. Instance the little negress, the
daughter of the poor Queen, that Queen so timid and entirely natural,
who, to her happiness, as much as to her glory, has never looked at,
approached, or distinguished any one except the King.

For the rest, we shall see and know well if the King does anything for
his musketeer.




CHAPTER XXXIV.

The Young Nobility and the Turks.--Private Correspondence.--The Unlucky
Minister and the Page of Strasburg.--The King Judged and Described in All
the Documents.--The King Humiliated in His Affections.--Scandal at
Court.--Grief of Fathers at Having Given Life to Such Children.--Why
Prince Eugene Was Not a Bishop.--Why He Was Not a Colonel of
France.--Death of the Prince de Conti.


As France was at peace at the moment when the three hundred thousand
Turks swarmed over Hungary and threatened Vienna, our young princes, and
a fairly large number of nobles of about the same age, took it into their
heads to go and exhibit their bravery in Germany; they asked permission
of M. de Louvois to join the Imperialists. This permission was granted
to some amongst them, but refused to others. Those whom it was thought
fit to restrain took no notice of the words of the minister, and departed
as resolutely as though the King had fallen asleep. They were arrested
on the road; but his Majesty, having reflected on the matter, saw that
these special prohibitions would do harm to the intentions which he had
with regard to his deference for Germany, and they were all allowed to go
their own way.

A little later, it was discovered that there was a regular and active
correspondence between these young people in Germany and others who had
remained in Paris or at the Court. The first minister had a certain
page, one of the most agile, pursued; he was caught up with at Strasburg;
his valise was seized. The Marquis de Louvois, desiring to give the King
the pleasure of himself opening these mysterious letters, handed him the
budget, the seals intact, and his Majesty thanked him for this attention.
These thanks were the last that that powerful minister was destined to
receive from his master; his star waned from that hour, never again to
recover its lustre; all his credit failed and crashed to the ground. This
correspondence--spied on with so much zeal, surprised and carried off
with such good fortune--informed the astonished monarch that, in the
Louvois family, in his house and circle, his royal character, his
manners, his affections, his tastes, his person, his whole life, were
derisively censured. The beloved son-in-law of the minister, speaking
with an open heart to his friends, who were travelling, and absent,
represented the King to them as a sort of country-gentleman, given up now
to the domestic and uniform life of the manor-house, more than ever
devoted to his dame bourgeoise, and making love ecstatically at the feet
of this young nymph of fifty seasons.