The Memoirs of Madame de Montespan, Complete

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


At these words, pronounced with emotion, the artist felt the tears come
into his eyes. He bent one knee to the ground, respectfully kissed the
hand of the monarch, and promised to complete his portrait immediately.

He kept his word to us. The King's miniature and my four portraits were
finished without hesitation or postponement; and Petitot also consented
to copy, for his Majesty, a superb Christine of Sweden, a full-length
picture, painted by Le Bourdon. But at the final revocation of the Edict
of Nantes, he thought his conscience, or rather his vanity, compromised,
and quitted France, although the King offered to allow him a chaplain of
his communion, and a dispensation from all the oaths, to Petitot himself,
to Boyer, his brother-in-law, and the chaplain whom they had retained
with them.




CHAPTER XXXIV.

Lovers' Vows.--The Body-guards.--Racine's Phedre.--The
Pit.--Allusions.--The Duel.--M. de Monclar.--The Cowled Spy.--He Escapes
with a Fright.--M. de Monclar in Jersey.--Gratitude of the
Marquise.--Happy Memory.


Lovers, in the effervescence of their passion, exaggerate to themselves
the strength and intensity of their sentiments. The momentary, pleasure
that this agreeable weakness causes them to feel, brings them, in spite
of themselves, to promise a long duration of it, so that they swear
eternal fidelity, a constancy, proof against all, two days after that one
which shone on their most recent infidelity. I had seen the King neglect
and abandon the amiable La Valliere, and I listened to him none the less
credulously and confidently when he said to me: "Athenais, we have been
created for each other: if Heaven were suddenly to deprive me of the
Queen, I would have your marriage dissolved, and, before the altar and
the world, join your destiny, to mine."

Full of these fantastic ideas, in which my hope and desire and credulity
were centred, I had accepted those body-guards of state who never left my
carriage. The poor Queen had murmured: I had disdained her murmurs. The
public had manifested its disapproval: I had hardened myself and fought
against the insolent opinion of that public. I could not renounce my
chimera of royalty, based on innumerable probabilities, and I used my
guards in anticipation, and as a preliminary.

One of them, one day, almost lost his life in following my carriage,
which went along like a whirlwind. His horse fell on the high road to
Versailles; his thigh was broken, and his body horribly bruised. I
descended from my carriage to see after him. I confided him, with the
most impressive recommendations, to the physician or surgeon of Viroflai,
who lavished on him his attentions, his skill and zeal, and who sent him
back quite sound after a whole month of affectionate care.

The young Baron de Monclar (such was the name of this guard) thought
himself happy in having merited my favour by this accident, and he
remained sincerely and finally attached to me.

At the time of the temporary triumph of Mademoiselle de Fontanges, the
spell which was over my eyes was dissipated. The illusions of my youth
were lost, and I saw, at last, the real distance which divided me from
the steps of the throne. The health of a still youthful Queen seemed to
me as firm and unalterable then as it appeared to me weak and uncertain
before. The inconstancy of the monarch warned me of what might be still
in store for me, and I resolved to withdraw myself, voluntarily and with
prudence, within the just limits of my power.

M. le Prince de Luxembourg was one of my friends, and in command; I
begged him to send me his guards no longer, but to reserve them for the
reigning divinity, who had already more than once obtained them.

In these latter days, that is to say, since the eminent favour of the
lady in waiting, having become the friend, and no longer the spouse of
the prince, I frequently retired from this sight, so repugnant to me, and
went and passed entire weeks at Paris, where the works on my large hotel,
that had been suspended for divers reasons, were being resumed.

A debutante, as beautiful as she was clever, was drawing the entire
capital to the Comedie Francaise. She obtained especial applause in the
difficult part of Phedre. My friends spoke marvels of it, and wished to
take me there with them. Their box was engaged. We arrived as the
curtain was going up. As I took my seat I noticed a certain stir in the
orchestra and pit. The majority of glances were directed at my box, in
which my apparition had attracted curiosity. I carried my fan to my
face, under the pretext of the excessive glow of the lights. Immediately
several voices were to be heard: "Take away the fan, if you please." The
young and foolish applauded this audacity; but all the better part
disapproved.

The actress mentioned came on the scene and brought the incident to an
end. Although deeply moved by what had occurred, I paid great attention
to the magnificent part of Phedre, which often excited my admiration and
profound pity. At some passages, which every one knows by heart, two or
three insolent persons abandoned themselves to a petty war of allusions,
and accenting these aggressive phrases with their applause, succeeded in
directing general attention to me. Officers of the service noticed this
beginning of disorder, and probably were concerned at my embarrassment.
Some Gardes Francais were called within the barrier of the parterre in
order to restrain the disturbers. Suddenly a very lively quarrel broke
out in the centre. Two young men with great excitement had come to
blows, and soon we saw them sally forth with the openly expressed
intention of settling their quarrel on the field.

Was it my name, or a contest as to the talent of the actress, which
caused this commotion? My nephew, De Mortemart, was concerned for me,
and the Comte de Marcilly assured us that all these wrangles were solely
with regard to the wife of Theseus.

Between the two pieces our company learnt that a gentleman from the
provinces had insulted my name, and a body-guard, out of uniform, had
taken this insult for himself; they had gone out to have an explanation.

The following day a religious minim of the House of Chaillot came to
inform me of the state of affairs. The Baron de Monclar, of the
body-guards of the King, had taken sanctuary in their monastery, after
having killed, in lawful duel, beneath the outer walls of the Bois du
Boulogne, the imprudent young man who, the night before, at the play, had
exposed me to the censure of the public. M. de Monclar was quite
prepared for the inflexible severity of the King, as well as for the
uselessness of my efforts. He only begged me to procure him a disguise
of a common sort, so that he might immediately embark from the
neighbourhood of Gainville or Bordeaux, and make for England or Spain;
every moment was precious.

The sad position in which M. de Monclar had put himself in my behalf
filled me with sorrow. I gave a long sigh, and dried my first tears. I
racked my sick and agitated head for the reply I ought to make to the
good monk, and, to my great astonishment, my mind, ordinarily so prompt
and active, suggested and offered me no suitable plan. This indecision,
perhaps, rendered the worthy ambassador impatient and humiliated me;
when, to end it, I made up my mind to request that M. de Monclar be
secretly transferred from the House of Chaillot to my dwelling, where I
should have time and all possible facilities to take concert with him as
to the best means of action.

Suddenly raising my eyes to the monk of Chaillot, I surprised in his a
ferocious look of expectation. This horrible discovery unnerved me,--I
gave a cry of terror; all my lackeys rushed in. I ordered the traitor to
be seized and precipitated from the height of my balcony into the
gardens. His arms were already bound ruthlessly, and my people were
lifting him to throw him down, when he eluded their grasp, threw himself
at my feet, and confessed that his disguise was assumed with the intent
to discover the sanctuary of the Baron de Monclar, the assassin of his
beloved brother. "It is asserted, madame," added this man, rising, "that
the Baron is confided to the Minim Fathers of Chaillot. I imagined that
you were informed of it, and that by this means my family would succeed
in reaching him."

"If he has killed the nobody who yesterday insulted me so unjustly," I
said then to this villain who was ready for death, "he has done a
virtuous act, but one which I condemn. I condemn it because of the law
of the Prince, which is formal, and because of the dire peril into which
he has run; for that my heart could almost praise and thank him. I was
ignorant of his offence; I am ignorant of his place of refuge. Whoever
you may be,--the agent of a family in mourning, or of a magistrate who
forgets what is due to me,--leave my house before my wrath is rekindled.
Depart, and never forget what one gains by putting on the livery of
deceit in order to surprise and betray innocence."

My people conducted this unworthy man to the outer gate, and refused to
satisfy some prayers which he addressed to them to be released from his
disagreeable bonds. The public, with its usual inconsequence, followed
the monk with hooting, without troubling as to whether it were abusing a
vile spy or a man of worth.

We waited for a whole month without receiving any news of our guard. At
last he wrote to me from the island of Jersey, where he had been cast by
a storm. I despatched the son of my intendant, who knew him perfectly; I
sent him a letter of recommendation to his Majesty the King of England,
who had preserved me in his affections, and to those matters of pure
obligation, which I could not refrain from without cruelty, I added a
present of a hundred thousand livres, which was enough to furnish an
honourable condition for my noble and generous cavalier in the land of
exile.

The humour of my heart is of the kind which finishes by forgetting an
injury and almost an outrage; but a service loyally rendered is graven
upon it in uneffaceable characters, and when (at the solicitation of the
King of England) our monarch shall have pardoned M. de Monclar, I will
search all through Paris to find him a rich and lovely heiress, and will
dower him myself, as his noble conduct and my heart demand.

I admire great souls as much as I loathe ingratitude and villainy.




CHAPTER XL.

Parallel between the Diamond and the Sun.--Taste of the Marquise for
Precious Stones.--The King's Collection of Medals.--The Crown of
Agrippina.--The Duchess of York.--Disappointment of the Marquise.--To
Lend Is Not to Give.--The Crown Well Guarded.--Fright of the
Marquise.--The Thief Recognised.--The Marquise Lets Him Hang.--The
Difference between Cromwell and a Trunkmaker.--Delicate
Restitutions.--The Bourbons of Madame de Montespan.


The diamond is, beyond contradiction, the most beautiful creation of the
hands of God, in the order of inanimate objects. This precious stone, as
durable as the sun, and far more accessible than that, shines with the
same fire, unites all its rays and colours in a single facet, and
lavishes its charms, by night and day, in every clime, at all seasons;
whilst the sun appears only when it so pleases; sometimes shining,
sometimes misty, and shows itself off with innumerable pretensions.

From my tenderest childhood, I was notable amongst all my brothers and
sisters for my distinct fondness for precious stones and diamonds. I have
made a collection of them worthy of the Princes of Asia; and if my whole
fortune were to fail me to-day, my pearls and diamonds, being left to me,
would still give me opulence. The King, by a strange accident, shares
this taste with me. He has in his third closet two huge pedestals,
veneered in rosewood, and divided within, like cabinets of coins, into
several layers. It is there that he has conveyed, one by one, all the
finest diamonds of the Crown. He consecrates to their examination, their
study, and their homage, the brief moments that his affairs leave him.
And when, by his ambassadors, he comes to discover some new apparition of
this kind in Asia or Europe, he does all that is possible to distance his
competitors.

When he loved me with a tender love, I had only to wish and I obtained
instantly all that could please me, in rare pearls, in superfine
brilliants, sapphires, emeralds, and rubies. One day, his Majesty
allowed me to carry home the famous crown of Agrippina, executed with
admirable art, and formed of eight sprays of large brilliants handsomely
mounted. This precious object occupied me for several days in
succession, and the more I examined the workmanship, the more I marvelled
at its lightness and excellence, which was so great that our jewellers,
compared with those of Nero and Agrippina, were as artisans and workmen.

The King, having never spoken to me again of this ornament, I persuaded
myself that he had made me a present of it,--a circumstance which
confirmed me in the delusions of my hope. I thought then that I ought
not to leave in its light case an article of such immense value, and
ordered a strong and solid casket in which to enshrine my treasure.

The imperial crown having been encased and its clasps well adjusted by as
many little locks of steel, I shut the illustrious valuable in a cupboard
in which I had a quantity of jewelry and precious stones. This beautiful
crown was the constant object of my thoughts, my affections and my
preference; but I only looked at it myself at long intervals, every six
months, very briefly, for fear of exciting the cupidity of servants, and
exposing the glory of Agrippina to some danger.

When the Princess of Mantua passed through France on her way to marry the
Duke of York, whose first wife had left him a widower, the King gave a
brilliant reception to this young and lovely creature, daughter of a
niece of Cardinal Mazarin.

The conversation was uniformly most agreeable, for she spoke French with
fluency, and employed it with wit. There was talk of open-work crowns
and shut crowns. The Marquis de Dangeau, something of a savant and
antiquary, happened to remark that, under Nero, that magnificent prince,
the imperial crown had first been wrought in the form of an arch, such as
is seen now.

The King said then: "I was ignorant of that fact; but the crown of the
Empress, his mother, was not closed at all. The one which belongs to me
is authentic; Madame la Marquise will show it to us:"

A gracious invitation in dumb show completed this species of summons, and
I was obliged to execute it. I returned to the King in the space of a
few minutes, bringing back in its new case the fugitive present, which a
monarch asked back again so politely and with such a good grace.

The crown of Agrippina, being placed publicly on a small round table,
excited general attention and admiration. The Italian Princess, Madame
de Maintenon, the Duc de Saint Aignan, and Dangeau himself went into
raptures over the rare perfection of these marvellously assorted
brilliants. The King, drawing near, in his turn examined the masterpiece
with pleasure. Suddenly, looking me in the face, he cried:

"But, madame, this is no longer my crown of Agrippina; all the diamonds
have been changed!"

Imagine my trouble, and, I must say, my confusion! Approaching the
wretched object, and casting my eyes over it with particular attention, I
was not slow in verifying the King's assertion. The setting of this fine
work had remained virtually the same; but some bold hand had removed the
antique diamonds and substituted--false!

I was pale and trembling, and on the verge of swooning. The ladies were
sorry for me. The King did me the honour of declaring aloud that I had
assuredly been duped, and I was constrained to explain this removal of
the crown into a more solid and better case for its preservation.

At this naive explanation the King fell to laughing, and said to the
young Princess: "Madame, you will relate, if you please, this episode to
the Court of London, and you will tell the King, from me, that nothing is
so difficult to preserve now as our crowns; guards and locks are no more
of use."

Then, addressing me, his Majesty said, playfully:

"You should have entrusted it to me sooner; I should have saved it. It
is said that I understand that well."

My amour-propre, my actual honour, forbade me to put a veil over this
domestic indignity. I assembled all my household, without excepting my
intendant himself. I was aggrieved at the affront which I had met with
at the King's, and I read grief and consternation on all faces. After
some minutes' silence, my intendant proposed the immediate intervention
of authority, and made me understand with ease that only the casket-maker
could be the culprit.

This man's house was visited; he had left Paris nearly two years before.
Further information told us that, before disposing of his property, he
had imprudently indulged in a certain ostentation of fortune, and had
embarked for the new settlements of Pondicherry.

M. Colbert, who is still living, charged our governor to discover the
culprit for him; and he was sent back to us with his hands and feet
bound.

Put to the question, he denied at first, then confessed his crime. One
of my chamber--maids, to whom he had made feigned love, introduced him
into my house while I was away, and by the aid of this imprudent woman he
had penetrated into my closets. The crown of Agrippina, which it had
been necessary to show him because of the measures, had become almost as
dear to him as to myself; and his ambition of another kind inspired him
with his criminal and fatal temerity.

He did no good by petitioning me, and having me solicited after the
sentence; I let him hang, as he richly deserved.

The King said on this occasion: "This casketmaker has, at least, left us
the setting, but M. Cromwell took all."

The fortunate success of this affair restored me, not to cheerfulness,
but to that honourable calm which had fled far away from me. I made a
reflection this time on my extreme imprudence, and understood that all
the generosities of love are often no more than loans. I noticed amongst
my jewels a goblet of gold, wrought with diamonds and rubies, which came
from the first of the Medici princesses. I waited for the King's fete to
return this magnificent ornament to him nobly. I had a lily executed,
all of emeralds and fine pearls; I poured essence of roses into the cup,
placed in it the stem of the lily, in the form of a bouquet for the
prince, and that was my present for Saint Louis's day.

I gave back to the King, by degrees, at least three millions' worth of
important curiosities, which were like drops of water poured into the
ocean. But I was anxious that, if God destined me to perish by a sudden
death, objects of this nature should not be seen and discovered amid my
treasure.

As to my other diamonds, either changed in form or acquired and collected
by myself, I destine them for my four children by the King. These pomps
will have served to delight my eyes, which are pleased with them, and
then they will go down to their first origin and source, belonging again
to the Bourbons whom I have made.




CHAPTER XLI.

The Duchesse de Lesdiguieres.--Her Jest.--"The Chaise of
Convenience."--Anger of the Jesuits.--They Ally Themselves with the
Archbishop of Paris.--The Forty Hours' Prayers.--Thanks of the Marquise
to the Prelate.--His Visit to Saint Joseph.--Anger of the Marquise.--Her
Welcome to the Prelate.


The insult offered me at the Comedie Francaise by a handful of the
thoughtless immediately spread through the capital, and became, as it is
easy to imagine, the talk of all the salons. I was aware that the
Duchesse de Lesdiguieres was keenly interested in this episode, and had
embellished and, as it were, embroidered it with her commentaries and
reflections. All these women who misconduct themselves are pitiless and
severe. The more their scandalous conduct brands them on the forehead,
the more they cry out against scandal. Their whole life is bemired with
vice, and their mouth articulates no other words than prudence and
virtue, like those corrupt and infected doctors who have no indulgence
for their patients.

The Duchesse de Lesiguieres, for a long time associated with the
Archbishop of Paris, and known to live with that prelate like a miller
with his wife, dared to say, in her salon that my presence at Racine's
tragedy was, at the least, very useless, and the public having come there
to see a debutante, certainly did not expect me.

The phrase was repeated to me, word for word by my sister De Thianges,
who did not conceal her anger, and wished to avenge me, if I did not
avenge myself. The Marquise then informed me of another thing, which she
had left me in ignorance of all along, from kind motives chiefly, and to
prevent scandal.

"You remember, my sister," said the Marquise to me, "a sort of jest which
escaped you when Pere de la Chaise made the King communicate, in spite of
all the noise of his new love affair and the follies of Mademoiselle de
Fontanges? You nicknamed that benevolent Jesuit 'the Chaise of
Convenience.' Your epigram made all Paris laugh except the hypocrites
and the Jesuits. Those worthy men resolved to have full satisfaction for
your insult by stirring up the whole of Paris against you. The
Archbishop entered readily into their plot, for he thought you
supplanted; and he granted them the forty Hours' Prayers, to obtain from
God your expulsion from Court. Harlay, who is imprudent only in his
debauches, preserved every external precaution, because of the King,
whose temper he knows; he told the Jesuits that they must not expect
either his pastoral letter or his mandate, but he allowed them secret
commentaries, the familiar explanations of the confessional; he charged
them to let the other monks and priests into the secret, and the field of
battle being decided, the skirmishes began. With the aid and assistance
of King David, that trivial breastplate of every devotional insult, the
preachers announced to their congregations that they must fast and
mortify themselves for the cure of King David, who had fallen sick. The
orators favoured with some wit embellished their invectives; the ignorant
and coarse amongst the priests spoiled everything. The Blessed Sacrament
was exposed for a whole week in the churches, and it ended by an
announcement to Israel, that their cry had reached the firmament, that
David had grown cold to Bathsheba (they did not add, nevertheless, that
David preferred another to Bathsheba with his whole heart). But the
Duchesse de Fontanges gave offence neither to the Archbishop of Paris nor
to the Jesuits. Her mind showed no hostility. The beauty was quite
incapable of saying in the face of the world that a Jesuit resembled a
'Chaise of Convenience.'

"The Duchesse de Lesdiguieres, covered with rouge and crimes, has put
herself at the head of all these intrigues," added my sister; "and
without having yet been able to subdue herself to the external parade of
devotion, she has allowed herself to use against you all the base tricks
of the most devout hypocrites."

"Let me act," I said to my sister; "this lady's good offices call for a
mark of my gratitude. The Forty Hours' Prayer is an attention that is
not paid to every one; I owe M. de Paris my thanks."

I went and sat down at my writing-table, and wrote this fine prelate the
following honeyed missive:

I have only just been informed, monseigneur, of the pains you have been
at with God for the amelioration of the King and of myself. The gratitude
which I feel for it cannot be expressed. I pray you to believe it to be
as pure and sincere as your intention. A good bishop, as perfect and
exemplary as yourself, is worthy of taking a passionate interest in the
regularity of monarchs, and ours must owe you the highest rewards for
this new mark of respect which it has pleased you to give him. I will
find expressions capable of making him feel all that he owes to your
Forty Hours' Prayer, and to that Christian and charitable emotion cast in
the midst of a capital and a public. To all that only your mandate of
accusation and allegorical sermons are lacking. Cardinals' hats, they
say, are made to the measure of strong heads; we will go seek, in the
robing-rooms of Rome, if there be one to meet the proportions of your
ability. If ladies had as much honourable influence over the Vicar of
Jesus Christ as simple bishops allow them, I should solicit, this very
day, your wished-for recompense and exaltation. But it is the monarch's
affair; he will undertake it. I can only offer you, in my own person, M.
Archbishop of Paris, my prayers for yours. My little church of Saint
Joseph has not the same splendour as your cathedral; but the incense that
we burn there is of better quality than yours, for I get it from the
Sultan of Persia. I will instruct my little community to-morrow to hold
our Forty Hours' Prayer, that God may promptly cure you of your Duchesse
de Lesdiguieres, who has been damning you for fourteen years.