I sent for my cousin. I declared to her, that I would not suffer her to cross the frontier for marriage, and that I could not consent that she should marry any Prince who was my subject,[256] but that she might choose among the (qualified) n.o.bles of France, with the exception of Lauzun, and that I myself would conduct her to church.
It is superfluous to tell you with what grief she received this announcement, how she wept and sobbed. She threw herself upon her knees.
"I had pierced her heart with a hundred dagger strokes; she wished to die"; I remained firm.
The King added that he made the same communication to Lauzun, "and I may say that he received it with all the self-control, submission, and resignation which I could desire."[257] It is with the unfavourable comparison to Mademoiselle that this curious doc.u.ment terminates. Louis displayed but little generosity before a grief so deep.
The Princess regained her chamber in a pitiable state. She went into hysterics and broke the windows of the carriage. At the Luxembourg, the salon was filled with a curious crowd awaiting her return. "Two of her footmen entered into the room, saying in loud voices, "Depart at once, by degrees." Every one scattered immediately; but I remained the last, and saw Mademoiselle advance from the hall of the Guards like a dishevelled fury, menacing heaven and earth with extended arms." She had barely time to regain a slight degree of calm, when Lauzun entered, accompanied by Messieurs de Montausier, Crequi, and Guitry. "On seeing him, I uttered loud cries, and he could hardly restrain himself from weeping." The n.o.bles of France came at the command of the King to thank the granddaughter of Henri IV. for the honour that she wished to confer upon them. M. de Montausier bore the address.
Mademoiselle sobbed. M. de Lauzun had, with full understanding, taken the expected att.i.tude, of a man who blesses the most cruel blows coming from the hand of his King. "M. de Lauzun," wrote Mme de Sevigne, "has played his role to perfection; he has sustained his misfortune with firmness and courage, and has nevertheless displayed a grief, mingled with profound respect, which has won the admiration of all."[258]
The Princess would have been contented with something less admirable.
She said to him: ""You show such strength of mind, that all will believe you to be indifferent to me. What do you say?" and I sobbed with each word." He responded very coolly: "If you take my counsel, you will go to-morrow to dine at the Tuileries, and will thank the King for the honour that he has done you, in having prevented an action of which you would have repented all your life." She led her lover aside and had the pleasure of seeing him weep. "He could not speak, nor could I. I could only say: "What! I am never to see you more? I shall certainly die."
Then we turned around.... These gentlemen departed; I went to bed; I remained twenty-four hours almost without consciousness." She forbade any one to be admitted. Her door was, however, opened on Friday morning for Mme. de Sevigne. Just twenty-four hours had elapsed since Mademoiselle had overflowed with joy before her friend and despised any warnings. "I found her in bed[259]; she redoubled her cries on seeing me; called me, embraced me, and deluged me with her tears. She said: "Alas! do you remember what you said yesterday? Ah! what cruel prudence!" I wept through sympathy with her woe." A little later the King was announced. "When he entered," reports Mademoiselle, "I began to cry with all my strength; he embraced me and placed his cheek against mine. I said, "Your Majesty acts like monkeys who stifle their children embracing them."" As he was promising all kinds of wonderful things to console her, among others "that he would do fine things for M. de Lauzun," she had the presence of mind, in spite of her anguish, to demand if she might not see her friend again. The reply of the King should be remembered, as it brought serious results for his cousin. He said: "I do not forbid you to see him; ... and a.s.suredly you cannot take advice of a worthier man in regard to any of your affairs than Lauzun."
She hastened to confirm the permission. "It is my intention, Sire, and I am very happy that you desire that he should continue to be my best friend; but at least, Sire, you will not change as you did before? I cannot help reproaching you."
The succeeding days she was obliged to reopen her doors, and the same crowd which had feigned to rejoice with her now pretended to pity her.
It was necessary to see again the same faces, to submit to curious looks, glances filled with raillery, and to reply to _ba.n.a.l_ remarks.
There was much joking in Paris at her having received condolences in bed, after the fashion of widows. "I have heard in the salon of Mme. de Maintenon," relates Mme. de Caylus,[260] "that she cried out in her despair, "He should be there beside me!""
A grand Princess, to be dying of love and for a simple cadet from Gascogne, almost a country fellow; this was a novel spectacle, which so shocked all ideas of decorum that the public could not take to heart very seriously this slightly theatrical grief. It was pretended that Louis had said, "This is only a fantasy born in three days and which will pa.s.s as rapidly." True or false, the King wished to believe this, and the phrase received general approbation. It relieved the fashionable world from the duty of sympathising with the unfortunate, who was eating out her own heart, and visibly fading away.
"I grew thin, with hollow cheeks, as a person who neither eats nor sleeps, and I wept the minute that I was alone, or when I met any friends of M. de Lauzun and they talked of events which had any connection with him. I always desired to speak of him." The hope of a speedy death was her sole consolation, for no one, she was convinced had so deeply suffered. "My state was pitiable, and it must have been experienced to be appreciated, for such feelings cannot be expressed. It is necessary to know one"s self, in order to judge, and no one can have felt a grief equal to mine; there is nothing which can compare with it."
This is the universal language of disappointed lovers; but the expressive phrase below is not at the disposal of all souls. It is only applicable to moments in which the excess of grief renders it almost unconscious: "On account of feeling too much, I felt nothing."
The fifth day, etiquette exacted that she should find herself consoled.
Her duties as Princess were recalled to her. "It was needful to go to Court, it was not well to pa.s.s eight days without seeing the King."
In vain she fought against such cruel exactions; she was forced to make a spectacle of herself, still with "discomposed face, red and swollen eyes, with constant floods of tears, at proper or improper moments, with sharp cries at sight of Lauzun."
Lauzun opened his eyes wide upon her as upon a naughty child, and severely menaced her: "If you act in this manner, I will never be found again in the same room with you!" But she could not compose herself. One evening, at a great Court ball, she stopped in the middle of a dance and began to weep. The King rose and placed his hat before her face, leading her out of the room and explaining, "My cousin has vapours." The public did not pity her. It would have liked to celebrate her defeat. "All have praised the King for this action," wrote Olivier d"Ormesson.
Louis XIV. was again popular, a transient popularity which lasted only a few days. "It may be said that not only the Court, but the entire kingdom has rejoiced in the rupture of the proposed marriage."[261] The sentiment of approval was unanimous. As to the Princess, who was guilty of a.s.serting the right to "personal happiness," opinion judged her severely. The seventeenth century did not admit, as has been seen, that individual sentiments or the interests of the heart could predominate over the exactions of rank or society, and the age of the lovers and disparity of their appearance, she so tall, he almost a dwarf, aroused ridicule instead of sympathy. The Grande Mademoiselle was suddenly rewarded "with contempt," "for," says La Fare, "if this contemplated alliance appeared extraordinary as soon as the news was made public, it became ridiculous as soon as it was broken."
It is agreeable to meet among these people, who were right in the main, but who were malicious and uncharitable, one good Samaritan.
While Mme. de Sevigne wrote gaily, "All is finished,"[262] the tears of Mademoiselle inspired kind and courageous words from a person comparatively obscure, and who excused herself from corresponding because she did not have enough "wit." A letter, dated January 21, 1671, addressed to Bussy-Rabutin by Mme. de Scudery, sister-in-law of the ill.u.s.trious Madeleine, contains this paragraph:
I will say nothing of the affair of Mademoiselle. You are no doubt acquainted with all that has pa.s.sed. I will only add that, if you realise what a great pa.s.sion can be, in the heart of a pure woman like the Princess, you will not wonder, but will have sympathy. For myself, who know nothing of love through experience, I comprehend that Mademoiselle is much to be pitied; for she has become sleepless. During the day she is agitated and weeps, and in fact is leading the most miserable existence possible.[263]
Bussy-Rabutin replied (A Chaseu, January 29, 1671):
I comprehend what pa.s.sion means in a woman of the age and temperament of Mademoiselle, who has preserved her heart hitherto untouched, and I confess that this tale arouses my pity. Love seems to me a malady like the small-pox; the later it attacks the victim, the more severe the illness.
The writer had indeed well understood the characteristics of late love on only its displeasing side. But his att.i.tude was, unfortunately, the one adopted by almost every one.
Regarded half-pityingly, but with an undercurrent of ridicule, the Grande Mademoiselle ceased to be interesting to the fickle French public. The fall from favour was very definite. The heroine of the Fronde was effaced in the eyes of contemporaries, and remained only a ridiculous old maid, whose woes amused the gallery.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 209: The Grande Equerry, Louis de Lorraine, Comte d" Armagnac.]
[Footnote 210: The Marquis de Puyguilhem (written Peguilin) had taken the name of Comte de Lauzun the following January. The latter t.i.tle will be used in this volume.]
[Footnote 211: See the portrait of Straton in the chapter ent.i.tled "De la Cour."]
[Footnote 212: Saint-Simon, _ecrits inedits_.]
[Footnote 213: Lauzun became Captain of the Body Guard in July, 1669.]
[Footnote 214: Letter to Mme. de Sevigne, dated February 2, 1669.]
[Footnote 215: _Memoires et Reflexions_ of the Marquis de la Fare.]
[Footnote 216: The sister of the Grand Conde. Upon her part in the Fronde, see _The Youth of La Grande Mademoiselle_.]
[Footnote 217: M. de Saint-Paul began toward this time to bear the name of de Longueville.]
[Footnote 218: This conversation, which gives the key to the conduct of Lauzun, is reported in _Le Perroquet or Les amours de Mademoiselle_, an anonymous recital printed by M. Livet following the _Histoire amoureuse des Gaules_ (Paris, Jannet, 1857); and in the _Histoire de Mademoiselle et du Comte de Losun_ (Bibl. Saint-Genevieve MS. 3208), not always sources to be relied on, but to be trusted here.]
[Footnote 219: War between relatives for the succession.]
[Footnote 220: _Lettres historiques._ Pellison accompanied the Court as historiographer.]
[Footnote 221: Plaques: pieces of embossed silver, at the lower part of which was placed a chandelier.]
[Footnote 222: _Memoires_ of Mademoiselle.]
[Footnote 223: _De La Valliere a Montespan_, by Jean Lemoine and Andre Lichtenberger.]
[Footnote 224: Emmanuel II. de Crussol, Duc d"Uzes. He married the daughter of the Duc de Montausier and of Julie d"Angennes.]
[Footnote 225: Probably the uncle by marriage of Bussy-Rabutin.]
[Footnote 226: Romecourt was Lieutenant of the King"s Guards.]
[Footnote 227: It is evident that these last were carried in the private carriages, ready for any accident.]
[Footnote 228: _Gazette de Renaudot._]
[Footnote 229: Captain of the Body Guard. Afterward, Duc de Noailles, and Marshal of France.]
[Footnote 230: First physician to the King.]
[Footnote 231: _Histoire de Madame Henriette d"Angleterre._]
[Footnote 232: Mme. de Sevigne to Bussy-Rabutin. Letter of July 6, 1670.]
[Footnote 233: Mme. de Sevigne to Bussy-Rabutin (letter dated January 15, 1687), speaking of Conde"s death.]