With the growing idleness of the Court, pleasure in pure cleverness increased. The play of the mind was the sole resource against ennui.

Wit, no matter at whose expense, became the enjoyment. The wise and prudent Mme. de Maintenon succ.u.mbed like Mademoiselle, when her turn came, to the irresistible charm of a conversation which "renders agreeable the most serious matters, and enn.o.bles the most trivial."[203]

During the sharpest quarrel between Mademoiselle and Mme. de Montespan, the enjoyment of the opponent's wit was so keen that they parted with pain. "Mme. de Montespan and I," wrote Mme. de Maintenon in 1681,[204]

"have to-day taken a walk, holding each other's arms and laughing heartily; we are not more in accord for this." There can never be too much cleverness, but there is an inconvenience in there being nothing behind the wit, and this is one of the rocks towards which Louis XIV.

was pushing the French n.o.bility. He made it impossible for those pacing his antechambers to indulge in any intellectual effort other than that of seeking pretty phrases to amuse the listeners.

A gentleman of quality commences his day at eight in the morning standing in waiting before the door of the king. Salutes are given and returned. The elegants comb their locks, glancing out of the corner of their eyes at those entering. Moliere permits us to be present at the "final a.s.sault" through verses but little known:

Grattez du peigne a la porte[205]

De la chambre du Roi; Ou si, comme je prevoi, La presse s'y trouve forte, Montrez de loin votre chapeau, Ou montez sur quelque chose Pour faire voir votre museau, Et criez sans aucune pause, D'un ton rien moins que naturel; "Monsieur l'huissier, pour le marquis un tel"

Jetez-vous dans la foule, et tranchez du notable, Coudoyez un chacun, point du tout quartier, Pressez, poussez, faites le diable Pour vous mettre le premier.[206]

M. le Marquis enters. The chamber is already crowded. He "gains ground step by step," succeeds in seeing the King put on his shoes, for Louis performs this act with his own royal hands, and thus pa.s.ses the first hour. The exciting event is repeated in the evening when the King takes off his shoes. The Marquis had already, at one o'clock, witnessed the consumption of the royal soup, and two or three times in the course of the day had delighted his eyes with the sight of the King pa.s.sing to and fro on his way to ma.s.s or to take the fresh air.

During the intervals, the courtiers were charged with certain puerile occupations. The round of homages were made to the various members of the royal family and the prominent personages of the day, and there was gambling and other pleasures. The only relief for this complete idleness was to be found in an active campaign if there happened to be a war on hand. Let the courtier be admired for being able under such adverse circ.u.mstances to keep his wit awake and alert for attack and response, and also for the capacity of finding the military virtues when again called upon to exercise them.

Fortunately, the latter virtues were deeply ingrained in the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of the French gentlemen of this period, and it is not to their discredit if the other faculties, mental and physical, the exercise of which was plainly discouraged by the King, should have so fallen into disuse that their children suffered. The final descendants of four or five generations of those living this absurd life were the _emigres_ of the great Revolution, all heroes, almost all clever, or at least appearing so, and in general people of wit, but without character. This fact can hardly be too much emphasised: never has a monarch laboured with greater skill and method than Louis XIV. in the successful attempt to annihilate the n.o.bility and to ruin its reputation. This is one of the most serious souvenirs of the wars of the Fronde.

It was with the women as with the men--the same subjection, the same emptiness of life, from which arose the weakness of Mademoiselle for Mme. de Montespan. The situation of recognised mistress "affects nothing"; Mademoiselle had never considered that the virtue of others concerned her. The novelty of the situation, the unexpected prerogatives accruing to the new position, and the habits resulting, gave rise to some of the most curious incidents of the reign, and also strengthened an intimacy which survived many shocks.

As soon as Louis XIV. formally established his mistresses at Court, it had been needful to frame new rules of etiquette. At first these rules were understood rather than formulated, but contemporary writers give evidence of their existence. It was the new regulations which gave scandal, rather than the fact of a weakness too common to all men of all times. The people had found the phrase suitable enough when it ran to gaze on "the three queens" in one carriage; Mlle. de La Valliere and Mme. de Montespan were publicly at the same time occupying the rank of secondary wives to the King. When the royal family made its solemn visits to any of its members who were mortally ill, these two ladies arrived after the King and Queen. Mademoiselle met them at the death-bed of Mme. Henriette; "Mme. de Montespan and La Valliere came." She met them again over the cradle of a daughter of Louis XIV. and of Marie-Therese, who died as an infant. "I found her in the last extremity.... We staid almost the entire night watching her die; Mme.

de Montespan and Mme. de La Valliere were also there." The latter escaped from such honours as often as she could. Mme. de Montespan liked them better, and added to them. She had placed herself upon the footing of the Queen in regard to ordinary visits, which she never returned.

"Never," says Saint-Simon, "not even to Monsieur or Madame or to the Grande Mademoiselle, or to the Hotel de Conde."

The same hauteur was displayed in the manner of receiving the princes and princesses of the blood, and this "exterior of Queen" followed her into the retreat! All were accustomed to it.

"The habit of respect was preserved without murmur," says again Saint-Simon, who recalled Mme. de Montespan, disgraced and pa.s.sing her time in penitence, nevertheless continuing to hold court in her convent,[207] with as royal an etiquette as at Saint-Germain or Versailles:

The back of her armchair was formed by the foot-piece of the bed, and there was no other chair in the room. Monsieur and the Grande Mademoiselle had always loved her, and often went to see her; for these, chairs were brought, and also for Madame la Princesse; but Mme. de Montespan did not dream of deranging herself for her own people nor for those they brought with them.... One can judge by this how she received "all the world."

The "all the world," which included some of the most distinguished, contented themselves with small "chairs with backs," or simple camp stools. No one was offended, and "all France came"; I do not know by what fantasy it was considered a duty to make visits from time to time. She spoke to each like a queen holding her court, who honours in "addressing." Marie-Therese herself, in the time in which Mme. de Montespan was the actual sovereign, had submitted to the long empire of custom. In 1675, the fourth year of the war in Holland, Louis XIV. being with the army while Mme. de Montespan was at her chateau at Clagny, one of their sons was "slightly ill."[208] The Queen considered it her duty to visit the child and to comfort the mother. She went to seek Mme. de Montespan, and led her one day to the Trianon, another to dine in some favourite convent, an example which brought the crowd to Clagny and made an end of hesitancy. "The wife of her firm (_solide_) friend," wrote Mme. de Sevigne, "visited her, and afterward the entire family in turn.

She takes precedence of all the d.u.c.h.esses." (July 3, 1675.)

There had been a time in which this fashion of ignoring rank would have excited the indignation of Mademoiselle; but this time was far distant, farther than she herself realised. In 1667 she had cried very loud because her second sister, Mademoiselle d'Alencon, had made a _mesalliance_ in marrying a simple seigneur, the Duc de Guise, and she had looked very gloomily at the pair. The time had pa.s.sed for such pride, as the poor woman was herself ready for a worse _mesalliance_.

Her patience was at an end. Her agitation while Louis XIV. was attempting marriage negotiations with the Duc de Savoie must not be forgotten. No prince had thought of her since this affront. She was considered too old. She would not confess this to be the case, but she felt it, and a tempest gathered in the depths of her heart. The storm burst in 1669. It is impossible to say in what measure nature alone was responsible, and what was due to the atmosphere of moral disorder and voluptuousness which Mademoiselle was now inhaling at the Court in the frequent companionship of the favourite. One thing is certain, the Grande Mademoiselle did not try to struggle against the pa.s.sion which seized her; her att.i.tude was rather that of a person who sought its sway.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 163: The Mlles. de Nemours were daughters of Elisabeth de Vendome, sister of the Duc de Beaufort, and of Henri de Savoie, Duc de Nemours, who was killed in a duel by his brother-in-law (July 30, 1652).

The younger sister married Alphonse VI. June 28, 1666.]

[Footnote 164: Claude Le Pelletier, then President of Inquests. After, he was Minister of State and Controller-General of Finances.]

[Footnote 165: Mlle. d'Alencon, the second of the half-sisters of Mademoiselle.]

[Footnote 166: _Archives de Chantilly._]

[Footnote 167: _[OE]uvres de Louis XIV. Lettres particulieres_, Paris, 1806.]

[Footnote 168: _L'amba.s.sadeur de la Fuente au roi d'Espagne_; Paris, January 27, 1664. (_Archives de la Bastile._) The Princesse de Savoie refused by Louis XIV; had decided to marry the Duc de Parma.]

[Footnote 169: _Memoires de Mme. de Motteville._]

[Footnote 170: The Archbishop of Embrun to Father Brienne; Turin Aug. 1, 1659.]

[Footnote 171: La Fontaine: _La Fille_, fable, published for the first time in the edition 1679.]

[Footnote 172: Marie-Jeanne-Baptiste de Nemours married Charles Emmanuel II., May 11, 1665.]

[Footnote 173: And not Madame Henriette, as has been said in error.]

[Footnote 174: Bethleem was a suburb of Clamecy.]

[Footnote 175: Mme. de La Fayette, _Histoire de Madame Henriette_.]

[Footnote 176: _Memoires de Mme. de Motteville._]

[Footnote 177: See Raoul Allier, _La Cabale des Devots_.]

[Footnote 178: Lenten sermons for the year 1662.]

[Footnote 179: Letter of March 29, 1680.]

[Footnote 180: _Archives de la Bastille_, by Francois Ravaisson, vols.

iv., v., and vi., _pa.s.sim_.]

[Footnote 181: See the review of the play in _Moliere_ of the _Grands ecrivains de la France_ (Hachette).]

[Footnote 182: Allusion to certain talismans.]

[Footnote 183: _Archives de la Bastille_: Rapport de la Reynie, lieutenant-general of police, a Louvois (1680, no other date).]

[Footnote 184: _La Magie dans l'Inde antique_, by Victor Henry.]

[Footnote 185: Interrogatory of June 30, 1668. Mme. de Bougy was the widow of the Marquis of this name, lieutenant-general. La Duverger was occupied with magic. The Marquis de Ravetot had married Catherine de Grammont, daughter of the Marshal.]

[Footnote 186: Another name for Lesage.]

[Footnote 187: _Histoire de l'Opera en Europe_, by M. Romain Rolland.

Cf. _Histoire de la Musique dramatique en France_, by Chouquet, _Les Origines de l'Opera francais_, by Nuitter and Thoinan.]

[Footnote 188: The first opera worthy of the name was _Pomone_, by Cambert. It will be learned in special works how French opera differed from Italian and through what a chain of circ.u.mstances it occurred that a Florentine, Baptiste Lulli, was the true founder.]

[Footnote 189: See above.]

[Footnote 190: A selection of the operas of Lulli, for piano and voice, has appeared in the Collection Michaelis.]

[Footnote 191: Letter dated December 1, 1673.]