As soon as a reply comes, I will show my brother a portrait of some sort; it will be all the same to him; he will accept her."
Soon afterwards this marriage took place. Charlotte Elizabeth of Bavaria, though aware of the sort of death that her predecessor died, agreed to marry Monsieur. Had she not been lucky enough to make this grand match, her extreme ugliness would a.s.suredly have doomed her to celibacy, even in Bavaria and in Germany. It is surely not allowable to come into the world with such a face and form, such a voice, such eyes, such hands, and such feet, as this singular princess displayed. The Court, still mindful of the sweetness, grace, and charm of Henrietta of England, could not contemplate without horror and disgust the fearful caricature I have just described. Young pregnant women--after the Queen"s unfortunate experience--were afraid to look at the Princess Palatine, and wished to be confined before they reappeared at Court.
As for herself, armed with robust, philosophical notions, and a complete set of Northern nerves, she was in no way disconcerted at the effect her presence produced. She even had the good sense to appear indifferent to all the raillery she provoked, and said to the King:
"Sire, to my mind you are one of the handsomest men in the world, and with few exceptions, your Court appears to me perfectly fitted for you. I have come but scantily equipped to such an a.s.semblage. Fortunately, I am neither jealous nor a coquette, and I shall win pardon for my plainness, I myself being the first to make merry at it."
"You put us completely at our ease," replied the King, who had not even the courage to be gallant. "I must thank you on behalf of these ladies for your candour and wit." Ten or twelve of us began to t.i.tter at this speech of hers. The Robust Lady never forgave those who laughed.
Directly she arrived, she singled me out as the object of her ponderous Palatine sarcasms. She exaggerated my style of dress, my ways and habits. She thought to make fun of my little spaniels by causing herself to be followed, even into the King"s presence-chamber, by a large turnspit, which in mockery she called by the name of my favourite dog.
When I had had my hair dressed, ornamented with quant.i.ties of little curls, diamonds, and jewelled pins, she had the impertinence to appear at Court wearing a huge wig, a grotesque travesty of my coiffure. I was told of it. I entered the King"s apartment without deigning to salute Madame, or even to look at her.
I had also been told that, in society, she referred to me as "the Montespan woman." I met her one day in company with a good many other people, and said to her:
"Madame, you managed to give up your religion in order to marry a French prince; you might just as well have left behind your gross Palatine vulgarity also. I have the honour to inform you that, in the exalted society to which you have been admitted, one can no more say "the Montespan woman," than one can say "the Orleans woman." I have never offended you in the slightest degree, and I fail to see why I should have been chosen as the favoured object of your vulgar insults."
She blushed, and ventured to inform me that this way of expressing herself was a turn of speech taken from her own native language, and that by saying "the," as a matter of course "Marquise" was understood.
"No, madame," I said, without appearing irritated; "in Paris, such an excuse as that is quite inadmissible, and since you a.s.sociate with turnspits, pray ask your cooks, and they will tell you."
Fearing to quarrel with the King, she was obliged to be more careful, but to change one"s disposition is impossible, and she has loathed and insulted me ever since. Her husband, who himself probably taught her to do so, one day tried to make apologies for what he ruefully termed her reprehensible conduct. "There, there, it doesn"t matter," I said to him; "it is easier to offend me than to deceive me. Allow me to quote to you the speech of Mademoiselle de Montpensier, "You had a charming and accomplished wife, you ought to have prevented her from being poisoned, and then we should not have had this hag at Court.""
CHAPTER XLII.
Madame de Montespan"s Father-confessor.--He Alters His Opinion.--Madame de Maintenon Is Consulted.--A General on Theology.--A Country Priest.--The Marquise Postpones Her Repentance and Her Absolution.
My father-confessor, who since my arrival at Court had never vexed or thwarted me, suddenly altered his whole manner towards me, from which I readily concluded that the Queen had got hold of him. This priest, of gentle, easy-going, kindly nature, never spoke to me except in a tone of discontent and reproach. He sought to induce me to leave the King there and then, and retire to some remote chateau. Seeing that he was intriguing, and had, so to speak, taken up his position, like a woman of experience I took up mine as well, and politely dismissed him, at which he was somewhat surprised. In matters of religion, Madame de Maintenon, who understands such things, was my usual mentor. I told her that I was disheartened, and should not go to confession again for ever so long. She was shocked at my resolve, and strove all she could to make me change my mind and endeavour to lead me back into the right way.
She forever kept repeating her favourite argument, saying, "Good gracious! suppose you should die in that state!"
I replied that it was not my fault, as I had never ceased to obey the precepts of the Holy Church. "It was my old father-confessor," said I, "the Canon of Saint Thomas du Louvre, who had harshly refused to confess me."
"What he does," replied she, "is solely for your own good."
"But if he has only my well-being in view," I quickly retorted, "why did not he think of this at first? It would have been far better to have stopped me at the outset, instead of letting me calmly proceed upon my career. He is obeying the Queen"s orders, or else those of that Abbe Bossuet de Mauleon, who no longer dares attack me to my face."
As we thus talked, the Duc de Vivonne came into my room. Learning the topic of our discussion, he spoke as follows: "I should not be general of the King"s Galleys and a soldier at heart and by profession if my opinion in this matter were other than it is. I have attentively read controversies on this point, and have seen it conclusively proved that our kings never kept a confessor at Court. Among these kings, too, there were most holy, most saintly people, and--"
"Then, what do you conclude from that, Duke?" asked Madame de Maintenon.
"Why, that Madame will do well to respect his Majesty the King as her father-confessor."
"Oh, Duke, you shock me! What dreadful advice, to be sure!" cried the governess.
"I have not the least wish to shock you, madame; but my veneration for D"Aubigne, your ill.u.s.trious grandfather--is too great to let me think that he is among the d.a.m.ned, and he never attended confession at all."
[Theodore Agrippa, Baron d"Aubigne, lieutenant-general in the army of Henri IV. He persevered in Calvinism after the recantation of the King.--EDITOR"S NOTE.]
"Eternity hides that secret from us," replied Madame de Maintenon. "Each day I pray to G.o.d to have mercy upon my poor grandfather; if I thought he were among the saved, I should never be at pains to do this."
"Bah, madame! let"s talk like sensible, straightforward people," quoth the General. "The reverend Pere de la Chaise--one of the Jesuit oracles--gives the King absolution every year, and authorises him to receive the Holy Sacrament at Easter. If the King"s confessor--thorough priest as he is--pardons his intimacy with madame, here, how comes it that the other cleric won"t tolerate madame"s intimacy with the King? On a point of such importance as this, the two confessors ought really to come to some agreement, or else, as the Jesuits have such a tremendous reputation, the Marquise is ent.i.tled to side with them."
Hemmed in thus, Madame de Maintenon remarked "that the morals of Jesuits and lax casuists had never been hers," and she advised me to choose a confessor far removed from the Court and its intrigues.
The next day she mentioned a certain village priest to me, uninfluenced by anybody, and whose primitive simplicity caused him to be looked upon as a saint.
I submitted, and ingenuously went to confess myself to this wonderful man; his great goodness did not prevent him from rallying me about the elegance of my costume, and the perfume of my gloves, and my hair. He insisted upon knowing my name, and on learning it, flew into a pa.s.sion. I suppress the details of his disagreeable propositions. Seated sideways in his confessional, he stamped on the floor, abused me, and spoke disrespectfully of the King. I could not stand such scandalous behaviour for long; and, wearing my veil down, I got into my coach, being thoroughly determined that I would take a good long holiday. M. de Vivonne soundly rated me for such cowardice, as he called it, while Madame de Maintenon offered me her curate-in-chief, or else the Abbe Gobelin.
But, for the time being, I determined to keep to my plan of not going to confession, strengthened in such resolve by my brother Vivonne"s good sense, and the att.i.tude of the King"s Jesuit confessor, who had a great reputation and knew what he was about.
CHAPTER XLIII.
The Comte de Guiche.--His Violent Pa.s.sion for Madame.--His Despair.--He Flees to La Trappe.--And Comes Out Again.--A Man"s Heart.--Cured of His Pa.s.sion, He Takes a Wife.
The Comte de Guiche, son of the Marechal de Grammont, was undoubtedly one of the handsomest men in France.
The grandeur and wealth of his family had, at an early age, inspired him with courage and self-conceit, so that in his blind, frivolous presumption, the only person, as he thought, who exceeded his own fascination was possibly the King, but n.o.body else.
Perceiving the wonderful charm of Monsieur"s first wife, he conceived so violent a pa.s.sion for her that no counsel nor restraint could prevent him from going to the most extravagant lengths in obedience to this rash, this boundless pa.s.sion.
Henrietta of England, much neglected by her husband, and naturally of a romantic disposition, allowed the young Count to declare his love for her, either by singing pretty romances under her balcony, or by wearing ribbons, bunched together in the form of a hieroglyphic, next his heart.
Elegantly dressed, he never failed to attend all the a.s.semblies to which she lent l.u.s.tre by her presence. He followed her to Saint Germain, to Versailles, to Chambord, to Saint Cloud; he only lived and had his being in the enjoyment of contemplating her charms.
One day, being desirous of walking alongside her sedan-chair, without being recognised, he had a complete suit made for him of the La Valliere livery, and thus, seeming to be one of the d.u.c.h.ess"s pages, he was able to converse with Madame for a short time. Another time he disguised himself as a pretty gipsy, and came to tell the Princess her fortune. At first she did not recognise him, but when the secret was out, and all the ladies were in fits of laughter, a page came running in to announce the arrival of Monsieur. Young De Guiche slipped out by a back staircase, and in order to facilitate his exit, one of the footmen, worthy of Moliere, caught hold of the Prince as if he were one of his comrades, and holding a handkerchief over his face, nearly poked his eye out.
The Count"s indiscretions were retailed in due course to Monsieur by his favourites, and he was incensed beyond measure. He complained to Marechal de Grammont; he complained to the King.
Hereupon, M. de Guiche received orders to travel for two or three years.
War with the Turks had just been declared, and together with other officers, his friends, he set out for Candia and took part in the siege.
All did him the justice to affirm that while there he behaved like a hero. When the fortress had to capitulate, and Candia was lost to the Christians forever, our officers returned to France. Madame was still alive when the young Count rejoined his family. He met the Princess once or twice in society, without being able to approach her person, or say a single word to her.
Soon afterwards, she gave birth to a daughter. A few days later, certain monsters took her life by giving her poison. This dreadful event made such an impression upon the poor Comte de Guiche, that for a long while he lost his gaiety, youth, good looks, and to a certain extent, his reason. After yielding to violent despair, he was possessed with rash ideas of vengeance. The Marechal de Grammont had to send him away to one of his estates, for the Count talked of attacking and of killing, without further ado, the Marquis d"Effiat, M. de Remecourt, the Prince"s intendant, named Morel, and even the Duc d"Orleans himself.
[Morel subsequently admitted his guilt in the matter of Madame"s death, as well as the commission of other corresponding crimes. See the Letters of Charlotte, the Princess Palatine.--EDITOR"S NOTE.]
His intense agitation was succeeded by profound melancholy, stupor closely allied to insanity or death.
One evening, the Comte de Guiche went to the Abbey Church of Saint Denis.
He hid himself here, to avoid being watched, and when the huge nave was closed, and all the attendants had left, he rushed forward and flung himself at full length upon the tombstone which covers the vast royal vault. By the flickering light of the lamps, he mourned the pa.s.sing hence of so accomplished a woman, murdered in the flower of her youth. He called her by name, telling her once more of his deep and fervent love.