Love And Louis XIV: The Women In The Life Of The Sun King Part 5

PART THREE

Autumn

CHAPTER 11

The King's Need

This is not the time to leave the King; he has need of you. Duc de La Rochefoucauld to Madame de Maintenon, August 1683 The death of Queen Marie-Therese at the end of July 1683 plunged Louis XIV into an inner crisis. It was generally a.s.sumed by his counsellors and courtiers that the King would marry again: his bride would be once more some great princess. That is what kings did, again and again if their wives persisted in dying, as happened to many European monarchs.

And why not? On the eve of his forty-fifth birthday Louis was still a vigorous man. The golden looks of his youth had faded: the beautiful hair that the Grande Mademoiselle had once admired had begun to recede in his thirties and by now he was in effect bald, relying on the ma.s.sively full and curly wigs depicted in his state portraits. The King's mouth had begun to turn down from the Pan-like smile of his youth, his nose became more p.r.o.nounced. The fine legs and feet, which like his hair had been so much admired as he danced heroic roles in the Court Ballet, were sometimes tortured with gout.

He was beginning to put on weight: which was hardly surprising considering his enormous appet.i.te, the despair of those eating with him who were expected to match it with their own. Great piles of game birds were consumed, flagons of wine, starting early in the day and continuing to late-night suppers which would not have disgraced Rabelais's giant Gargantua; for night-time consumption, another fowl and more liquid refreshment were provided. Liselotte described how she had often seen the King devour a whole pheasant and a partridge after four plates of different kinds of soup, 'a large dish of salad, two great slices of ham, mutton served with gravy and garlic, a plate of sweet cakes and, on top of that, fruit and hard-boiled eggs'.1*

Yet if Louis no longer astonished onlookers with his G.o.dlike beauty, his sheer presence commanded them: 'that secret force of royal majesty'. And then there was his voice, the unmistakable voice of a King, seldom raised, expecting always to be obeyed. One veteran officer who was asking for a favour began to shake at the sound of his sovereign's voice and stammered out: 'Sire, I did not tremble like this in front of your enemies.'2 As for Louis's gaze, the lively look of the mischievous boy had become the penetrating stare of the great King, with his slanting dark eyes which had something quasi-oriental about them. As for Louis's gaze, the lively look of the mischievous boy had become the penetrating stare of the great King, with his slanting dark eyes which had something quasi-oriental about them.

Certainly there was still much about Louis XIV to make a princess content, to quote that wistful comment Francoise had made about Marie-Therese's choice of husband all those years ago at her official entry into Paris. His energies were undiminished. Despite his gout, the King still went shooting and hunting even if he sometimes used a convenient little carriage. His workload was as heavy as ever, and on the other side of the coin the Fetes at Versailles were still glorious. In 1684 Mansart would add the fabulous Hall of Mirrors to the state apartments. And besides all of this, the new bride of Louis XIV would be Queen of France.

Princesses of an appropriate age and status were not wanting: a Tuscan princess perhaps, in order to wield further influence in central Italy? Then there was the Infanta of Portugal: a Portuguese alliance always made good sense to balance the power of her mighty neighbour Spain on the Iberian peninsula. Liselotte's aunt Sophia Electress of Hanover nourished hopes that another German princess might join Liselotte herself and the Dauphine Marianne-Victoire at the French court: she had in mind her fifteen-year-old daughter Sophia-Charlotte, known as Figuelotte. Technically Figuelotte was a Protestant (as Liselotte had been), but Sophie delayed her daughter's Protestant Confirmation just in case another rapid conversion might be needed...3 As for Figuelotte, already a sensible girl, she was definitely up for the throne of France. There might be constraints to the position, but she would face constraints wherever she went; at least with Louis XIV 'it would be worth it'.* In spite of this sporting att.i.tude on the part of the young Protestant Princess, the Catholic Portuguese Infanta remained the front runner so far as the world knew. It was not until late November that the French Amba.s.sador was told to let trie Queen of Portugal down lightly: In spite of this sporting att.i.tude on the part of the young Protestant Princess, the Catholic Portuguese Infanta remained the front runner so far as the world knew. It was not until late November that the French Amba.s.sador was told to let trie Queen of Portugal down lightly:4 there would be no marriage of the Sun King with the Portuguese Princess, thirty years his junior. there would be no marriage of the Sun King with the Portuguese Princess, thirty years his junior.

What no one outside a very small circle knew about in the high summer of 1683 was that crisis which the King first faced, and then resolved. A meeting of the Council held on 13 August decided, according to the report at supper, that second marriages were unfortunate.5 The next year the sentiment (whether the Council's or the King's) was given emblematic significance. The Queen's apartments at Versailles were carved up, much of the s.p.a.ce being taken by the King. In Versailles terms it was now quite obvious that there would be no Queen, since there were no Queen's apartments. The next year the sentiment (whether the Council's or the King's) was given emblematic significance. The Queen's apartments at Versailles were carved up, much of the s.p.a.ce being taken by the King. In Versailles terms it was now quite obvious that there would be no Queen, since there were no Queen's apartments.

The ostensible reasons for the decision were twofold. First there was the present burgeoning royal family, coupled with the Dauphine's new, healthy pregnancy (she would deliver a second prince, the Duc d'Anjou, in December). Second, there was the awful example of past family squabbles. The rebellious behaviour of Louis's uncle Gaston d'Orleans had caused much pain, while the late Queen had disliked her stepmother, Philip's second wife, and felt nothing but hostility for her half-brother. A new young Queen of France would inevitably mean a new young family: Louis had after all begotten a child by Angelique de Fontanges only recently. These children would be half-siblings, possibly subversive half-siblings, to the Dauphin now in his twenties. Was that really welcome to a King who had grown up in the dreaded atmosphere of family dispute?

All this was true enough in dynastic terms. But one doubts whether Louis XIV would really have taken the unconventional step by royal standards of remaining a public widower if he had not had a strong private motive to do so. This motive concerned his salvation, that project which could at last be brought to a successful conclusion if he secretly married his best friend and now mistress, Francoise de Maintenon.

These secret unions, known as morganatic marriages, were in fact a feature of the period: they concerned the Church and not the state and were not registered. A marriage in a chapel, performed by the clergy with witnesses, sufficed, although the union brought with it no official position (that of Queen of France in this case). In 1665 for example George William Duke of Celle promised lifelong fidelity to his adored 'wife in the eyes of G.o.d', the lower-ranking Eleanore d'Olbreuse.* Another way of describing such an alliance except that an alliance in the diplomatic sense was exactly what it was not was as a 'marriage of conscience.' Another way of describing such an alliance except that an alliance in the diplomatic sense was exactly what it was not was as a 'marriage of conscience.'7 For of course both parties concerned would be in a state of grace for the future, where the Church was concerned, even if the lack of registration made the ceremony invalid in the civil sense. Children of morganatic unions were not able to inherit kingdoms or princedoms: but in the case of Francoise, now nearly forty-five, the question of children never seems to have featured at any point in her career. For of course both parties concerned would be in a state of grace for the future, where the Church was concerned, even if the lack of registration made the ceremony invalid in the civil sense. Children of morganatic unions were not able to inherit kingdoms or princedoms: but in the case of Francoise, now nearly forty-five, the question of children never seems to have featured at any point in her career.

The evidence of the rushed, hushed, anxious then ecstatic correspondence of Francoise at this point is that the King did not reach his decision in favour of the 'project of salvation' at once. This must mean that the Sun King took time to abandon the public values in which he had been raised, which would have made marriage to a woman of minor birth, a few years older than himself, widow of a dubious artist, an unthinkable proposition. He was for example declining to award the court the focal point of a new Queen; a role which he took extremely seriously, as we have seen, following the early example of his mother.

According to custom the King of France could not remain in the presence of death: following the demise of Marie-Therese, Louis went to Saint-Cloud. But Francoise stayed at Versailles. Madame Now, hitherto his constant companion for advice, solace and encouragement, quite apart from the lighter pleasures, was scrupulous enough in her conscience and careful enough of her reputation to know that her already equivocal position had been rendered still more precarious.

The idea that on her deathbed Marie-Therese pa.s.sed a diamond ring as a token of her approval of Francoise as her successor is certainly apocryphal, being quite out of character for a great Spanish princess who was in any case dying in agonies.8 What was true was that Marie-Therese had had a satisfyingly tranquil relationship with Madame Now during her lifetime, Francoise being careful to show the greatest respect at all times; the previous autumn Marie-Therese had bestowed her own portrait set in diamonds upon her, a traditional sign of exceptional royal favour. But Marie-Therese was gone, and with her the illusion of respectability. What was true was that Marie-Therese had had a satisfyingly tranquil relationship with Madame Now during her lifetime, Francoise being careful to show the greatest respect at all times; the previous autumn Marie-Therese had bestowed her own portrait set in diamonds upon her, a traditional sign of exceptional royal favour. But Marie-Therese was gone, and with her the illusion of respectability.

It was at this moment that Louis's friend and contemporary, the Duc de La Rochefoucauld, son of the author, took a fateful decision. He had been Grand Master of the Royal Wardrobe (an intimate appointment) as well as Grand Hunter (a convivial one) for the last ten years. No one knew the King better in all his moods of melancholy and celebration, the former suppressed by his formidable self-control, the latter by his sense of his own dignity.

'This is not the time to leave the King,' said the Duc to Francoise, 'he has need of you.' So Madame de Maintenon travelled after Louis to Saint-Cloud. When he went on to Fontainebleau, she joined him there too. Perhaps this ancient and romantic chateau was the appropriate setting for the critical discussions which now pa.s.sed between the couple. Fontainebleau was one of the few royal residences where Louis XIV had not so far cast his builder's eye, and remained much as he had inherited it. Grandly old-fashioned, not very large, quite dark with chimneys that smoked, it served as a kind of periodic retreat, especially for the hunting seasons with its convenient and beautiful forest. The transient nature of royal occupation was emphasised by the fact that when the court was away most of the year the children of the nearby villagers loved to bathe in the fountains of the chateau while their mothers did the laundry there, and their animals grazed on the terraces.9 In the forest where the young Louis had once ridden with Marie Mancini and Henriette-Anne, Francoise now took her walks in a state of constant agitation, accompanied by her long-time friend the Marquise de Montchevreuil, an unsmiling woman so devout that she was described as putting the most pious off religion. This frenzy on the part of Francoise, the violent uncertainty of her state her thoughts, her fears, her hopes was recalled later by Marguerite de Caylus, then twelve years old, whom Francoise had 'adopted' three years earlier.10 It is clear from her correspondence that Francoise at this point was still quite uncertain about the course the King would take: given their closeness, this makes it likely that Louis himself was uncertain too. On 18 August Francoise asked her friend Madame de Brinon to relate what people were saying on the subject (a reference to the Infanta of Portugal). On 22 August she hoped Madame de Brinon would go and see Madeleine de Scudery, now at quite an advanced age but still at the centre of polite gossip, and 'send me all you hear that is good or bad'.

On 22 August Madame de Maintenon in her cautious way was still ridiculing all the gossip about the 'Louis and Francoise' affair. It was not until 19 September that Francoise wrote to her director of conscience: 'My perturbations are over. And I am in a state of peace, which I will take much more pleasure in telling you about than the troubles we used to discuss between ourselves. Don't forget me before G.o.d for I have a great need of strength to make good use of my happiness.'11 The crucial decision seems to have been taken by the King in the first week of September. A riding accident on 2 September, in which his shoulder was feared broken but was actually dislocated, may have played its part. This was not so much because it gave Francoise an opportunity to display womanly tenderness (Louis was surely convinced of that already, since it was the quality which had first attracted him about her in the menage of the rue de Vaugirard) but because it anch.o.r.ed the King himself, kept him from returning to Versailles for a month, and thus enforced upon him a period of proper reflection. The King loved Francoise and he did not after all imagine that he would fall in love again. He was wrong about that, but in 1683 could hardly have imagined the circ.u.mstances of his last great pa.s.sion. When the twentieth anniversary of his mother's death was solemnly celebrated in January 1686, Louis could feel that her tears and prayers for his salvation had not been in vain.12 So when did this marriage, which was never officially announced to the world and for which no direct doc.u.mentary evidence exists, take place? For there can be little doubt that it did take place, although to the end of her life Francoise would never directly confirm it even to her most loyal acolytes.13 The preponderance of historical opinion goes for the night of 910 October, with the old chapel at Versailles, subsequently rebuilt, as the most likely venue. It would have been held late at night, for the sake of discretion, and was probably performed by the Archbishop of Paris, Harlay de Champvallon, with the cure of Versailles as another possibility. If it is known, as one source suggests, that green vestments were used, that means that it must have taken place on a weekday between Pentecost and the First Sunday in Advent. The ever-discreet Bontemps would have arranged everything and may in addition have acted as a witness, along with Francoise's faithful attendant since her widowhood, Nanon Balbien. Other potential witnesses, of less intimate standing, were the King's new supreme minister since the death of Colbert in September, the Marquis de Louvois, and the Marquis de Montchevreuil, a decent if rather stupid fellow, husband of Francoise's tight-lipped friend. The preponderance of historical opinion goes for the night of 910 October, with the old chapel at Versailles, subsequently rebuilt, as the most likely venue. It would have been held late at night, for the sake of discretion, and was probably performed by the Archbishop of Paris, Harlay de Champvallon, with the cure of Versailles as another possibility. If it is known, as one source suggests, that green vestments were used, that means that it must have taken place on a weekday between Pentecost and the First Sunday in Advent. The ever-discreet Bontemps would have arranged everything and may in addition have acted as a witness, along with Francoise's faithful attendant since her widowhood, Nanon Balbien. Other potential witnesses, of less intimate standing, were the King's new supreme minister since the death of Colbert in September, the Marquis de Louvois, and the Marquis de Montchevreuil, a decent if rather stupid fellow, husband of Francoise's tight-lipped friend.

Gossip spread across Europe on the subject of the marriage, and by 1686 a song was being sung contrasting the reputation of Francoise's old friend the courtesan Ninon de Lenclos with that of the virtuous Roman wife Lucrece: 'Whether she's wife or mistress / Whether Ninon or Lucrece / I couldn't care less.' As for the King who 'from lover has become husband / He does what one does at his age'. In 1687, according to Liselotte, few people at court doubted that the couple were married; though she personally found it hard to believe 'so long as there has been no official announcement'. Being Liselotte, she could not resist adding a swipe at the morals of the French court: 'If they were married their love would hardly be as strong as it is. But perhaps secrecy adds a spice not enjoyed by people in official wedlock.' The following year Liselotte, with her strong sense of rank, was still perplexed by the lack of official announcement (she should not have grumbled because it enabled her to continue to take precedence over 'the old woman'). But Madame had to admit that Louis had never felt 'such pa.s.sion for any mistress as he does for this one'.14 Francoise had her own ideas of how her position should be handled. She refused for example to take the post of Dame d'Honneur to the Dauphine, the senior female appointment at court, when the d.u.c.h.esse de Richelieu died, despite the pleas of Marianne-Victoire. (The latter had seen the light: when she arrived in France she had displayed hostility to Francoise, encouraged by her husband; now she realised her mistake.) This self-denial was said to be 'very generous and n.o.ble behaviour' on Francoise's part; but in truth she did not want to be seen to tread the path of Athenais, the mistress created Superintendent of the Queen's Household. On the other hand, by 1692 Francoise was enjoying the right to visit enclosed convents, theoretically exercised only by the Queens of France. She also had the crucial privilege of sitting down in royalty's presence always a vital clue to status at Versailles.

The real proof of the marriage lay, however, in the att.i.tude of the clergy, above all that of the Holy See. In order that Francoise should maintain her position as a woman of virtue, it was necessary that the Pope should be informed privately of the marriage. This had probably happened by 1685. Certainly the Papacy awarded her every respect, which would hardly have been the case if she had continued simply as the mistress or the so-called best friend of the King. A lapis lazuli crown for a statue of the Virgin and a gold medal were among the presents sent from Rome to Francoise.15 As the years pa.s.sed, there were clues, slips of the pen or of etiquette, which would admit of no other solution than marriage between the two of them. The drunken reference of the dissolute Charles d'Aubigne to his royal 'brother-in-law' should not be counted as evidence, since Charles liked to embarra.s.s when he could and certainly had no privileged information. But there was the letter of the Abbe G.o.det des Marais, Francoise's director of conscience following Gobelin, who referred to her as 'a woman occupied with the glory of her husband her husband (italics added). And there was the more ribald incident when Monsieur happened upon his brother alone with Francoise on a bed with the covers drawn back because of the heat (he was taking medicine rather than making love). The King merely laughed and said: 'In the condition in which you see me with Madame de Maintenon, you can imagine what she is to me.' (italics added). And there was the more ribald incident when Monsieur happened upon his brother alone with Francoise on a bed with the covers drawn back because of the heat (he was taking medicine rather than making love). The King merely laughed and said: 'In the condition in which you see me with Madame de Maintenon, you can imagine what she is to me.'16 One of the clear indications Louis XIV had given that there would be no new official Queen of France was his transformation of his late wife's living quarters. Now Madame de Maintenon's own apartments were adapted from time to time to suit her new status whatever it was and she was granted a proper reception room (and a better garde-robe garde-robe) so that the King could enjoy the domesticity he wanted. Instructions for redecoration were mixed up with orders for the King's own apartments, and those of the Dauphin and Dauphine. But despite the heavy damask in the various rooms, red, green, crimson and gold, on seats, beds and tables as well as walls, they could never be mistaken for the apartments of a Queen. Only the bed in the alcove with its four bouquets of feathers waving above had something quasi-royal about it.17 The King gained no kudos from the match, which in the eyes of his subjects awarded him neither the prestige of a royal bride nor the virility signified by a glamorous mistress. A popular rhyme indicated this: 'I sinned many times with Montespan / I sinned with that good wench / And with this one here / I do my penance.'18 What he gained was what he wanted to gain: a new puritanism at court. What he gained was what he wanted to gain: a new puritanism at court. O tempora! O mores! O tempora! O mores! There were gallants of both s.e.xes at the court who must have reflected with Cicero upon the change of morals brought by time when at Easter 1684 the King criticised sternly those who had not performed their religious duties. There were gallants of both s.e.xes at the court who must have reflected with Cicero upon the change of morals brought by time when at Easter 1684 the King criticised sternly those who had not performed their religious duties.

A certain gallant lady who must have looked quizzically upon the change was Athenais, still present at court, still receiving her ritual daily visits from the King. Her sumptuous New Year present to the King in 1685 was much admired: it consisted of a book inlaid with gold and miniatures depicting all the towns in Holland which Louis had captured in 1672; the text was partly supplied by Racine. The Marquis de Dangeau reported on its exquisite appearance and good taste in his Journal Journal19* (though there was surely an element of nostalgia in recalling those vanished campaign days and nights). A triple outing for the hunt in the autumn of 1685 in a carriage containing Francoise, Athenais and the King also recalled the pairing of Louise and Athenais fifteen years earlier. But power had shifted for ever. (though there was surely an element of nostalgia in recalling those vanished campaign days and nights). A triple outing for the hunt in the autumn of 1685 in a carriage containing Francoise, Athenais and the King also recalled the pairing of Louise and Athenais fifteen years earlier. But power had shifted for ever.

Already Athenais had been moved out of her gorgeous apartments to dwell solely in the Appartement des Bains on the ground floor. The inlaid marble floor had to be replaced with parquet to make it habitable in winter. In December it was Francoise to whom Athenais applied to get a position with the Dauphin for her son by her first marriage, the twenty-year-old Marquis, later Duc, d'Antin. (She had hardly seen him in childhood after her husband took him away, and her daughter Marie-Christine had died in her early teens.) At Francoise's instance, the King agreed. D'Antin, handsome and lively, with his mother's good looks and her wit, went on to have a distinguished career at court and in the army.

Francoise's power was however circ.u.mscribed both by her own inclination she had her particular notion of what she should do and by the King's disinclination to suffer feminine interference in what he saw as the male sphere. The Revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685 was a case in point. In 1598 a law promulgated by Henri IV had granted civil and religious liberties to his Huguenot subjects. Although Cardinal Richelieu had annulled its political clauses in 1629, it was Louis XIV's Revocation which put into effect forced conversions, with other Huguenots fleeing abroad. All this had everything to do with the direction of Louis XIV's ecclesiastical policy since the beginning of his reign, and nothing to do with Francoise.20 The only people who blamed her for it were the spiteful Liselotte, who tried to pretend that 'the old wh.o.r.e' and Father La Chaise together had imposed this penance on the King for sleeping with the Montespan, and Saint-Simon, only nine years old at the time. Distasteful as the Revocation is to modern hearts and minds, still more so the horrifying sufferings of the Huguenots left in France which followed, the Revocation was popular among Louis's predominantly Catholic subjects.21 Tolerance at this time was widely seen as leading to social disorder Charles II had met with no success in attempting to establish 'freedom for tender consciences'. The princ.i.p.al first proposed in 1526 at the Diet of Speyer of cujus regio ejus religio cujus regio ejus religio (the religion of the territory was to be that of its ruler) was widely approved. The persecution of the 'pretended Reformers', that is the Protestants, was seen as adding to the King's glory rather than detracting from it. Louis was praised as extirpating the monster of heresy: 'this hydra that your hand has strangled'. (the religion of the territory was to be that of its ruler) was widely approved. The persecution of the 'pretended Reformers', that is the Protestants, was seen as adding to the King's glory rather than detracting from it. Louis was praised as extirpating the monster of heresy: 'this hydra that your hand has strangled'.22 For reasons to do with her mixed ProtestantCatholic background, Francoise had a far more pragmatic att.i.tude to religion than many of her contemporaries. She was not a persecutor by nature but a persuader. As a young woman, she had come to appreciate the truth of the Catholic religion in which she now profoundly believed. But she also had come to understand that in Catholicism, the state religion, lay the key to the better life, and she expected others to come to the same conclusion. As she wrote in 1681 to her cousin's wife, the Marquise de Villette, who was a Protestant: 'I hope that G.o.d who has given you so many good qualities will withdraw you from a state which makes you useless for this world and the next.'23 One notes the order in which the two worlds are placed. One notes the order in which the two worlds are placed.

Starting in about 1684, Francoise kept a series of little leather-bound 'Secret Notebooks' in which she noted religious texts, biblical quotations and sayings of the Saints that appealed to her such as St Francis de Sales and St Augustine, along with her own annotations.24* The result is a holy rag-bag with some anodyne pious sentiments: 'Keep a rule and it will keep you,' for example, and the frequently repeated text from the New Testament: 'He who does not become as a little child will not enter the Kingdom of Heaven.' At the same time it does provide a clue as to how Francoise saw herself and her destiny. She must be as submissive towards the King as Sarah was towards Abraham (who were of course husband and wife). Nevertheless, Francoise resolves: 'that I may not keep from him anything of the things he needs to know from me and that n.o.body else has the courage to tell him'. Where kings in general are concerned, there is considerable emphasis, in the manner of Bossuet and Bourdaloue, on the reign of G.o.d: 'It is from me, G.o.d, that wisdom comes ...', 'Kings reign thanks to me.' And there is a critical reference to the hedonistic court behaviour Francoise had witnessed from the outside: 'Jesus Christ is offended above all by the lovers of pleasure' ( The result is a holy rag-bag with some anodyne pious sentiments: 'Keep a rule and it will keep you,' for example, and the frequently repeated text from the New Testament: 'He who does not become as a little child will not enter the Kingdom of Heaven.' At the same time it does provide a clue as to how Francoise saw herself and her destiny. She must be as submissive towards the King as Sarah was towards Abraham (who were of course husband and wife). Nevertheless, Francoise resolves: 'that I may not keep from him anything of the things he needs to know from me and that n.o.body else has the courage to tell him'. Where kings in general are concerned, there is considerable emphasis, in the manner of Bossuet and Bourdaloue, on the reign of G.o.d: 'It is from me, G.o.d, that wisdom comes ...', 'Kings reign thanks to me.' And there is a critical reference to the hedonistic court behaviour Francoise had witnessed from the outside: 'Jesus Christ is offended above all by the lovers of pleasure' (amateurs de plaisirs).

It was in her work for education, particularly the education of the sort of poor girl she had once been, that Francoise found her true vocation; for it could be argued that guiding the King was a vocation which had been thrust upon her by a combination of circ.u.mstances. For all her professed aversion to court life (an aversion which was expressed more strongly as the years pa.s.sed) Francoise had not been able to resist the challenge and the triumph. But the education of the young was something she had always cared about, even before she was appointed governess to Maine and his siblings. By the means of two 'adoptions' Francoise honed her skills in this respect.

Marthe-Marguerite de Villette, known as Mademoiselle de Mursay after the chateau, was the daughter of the first cousin Francoise had loved in youth, Philippe de Villette. Born in 1671, Marguerite was an intelligent and lively girl, but her relationship with the famous lady she always called her aunt was not to be without its ups and downs. Marguerite also had a rebellious streak. She did not at first appreciate being turned into a little Catholic, although it was to her worldly advantage, any more than Francoise herself had done. By her own account, 'at first I cried a good deal, but next day I thought the King's Ma.s.s was so beautiful that I agreed to become a Catholic, on condition that I could hear it every day and that I would not be whipped!'25 Something in Marguerite seems to have irritated Francoise: why could she not accept her place in society and see how lucky she was to have been advanced so far? But not too far. Francoise found her lazy, despite her natural gifts at singing and dancing, and suspected her of frivolity when Marguerite came to prefer the amusing Mortemart-style circle of Madame la d.u.c.h.esse (Louise-Francoise, the King's daughter by Athenais) to the severe circle of her 'aunt'. Early on, Marguerite, who was pretty enough in her own right to attract suitors, had a putative romance with a member of the King's guard. Madame de Maintenon seems to have taken a kind of grim pleasure in Marguerite's failure to capitalise on her chances, as she saw it. 'She won't do as well as she might have,' Francoise reported in September 1684, 'but she will always be better matched than she could have expected naturally.'

However, when it came to a question of Marguerite's marriage, Francoise actually turned down one suitor, the Duc de Boufflers, saying: 'My niece is not a good enough match for you.' Yet her eventual choice of the Comte de Caylus, to whom Marguerite was married off at fifteen, was disastrous. Despite his good court connections as a member of the Dauphin's household, despite his military talents, Caylus turned out to be a drunk, who wanted to eat apart from his wife in order to indulge in alcohol un.o.bserved.

Francoise's second 'adoption', that of her actual niece, Francoise-Charlotte d'Aubigne, went much better. Francoise-Charlotte, born on 5 May 1684, the year after the secret royal marriage, was the child of Charles d'Aubigne and Genevieve Pietre, the bourgeoise bourgeoise he had insisted on marrying to his sister's disgust. Against Francoise's persistent benevolence towards the ungrateful Charles should be weighed her equally persistent scorn for Genevieve. Here was a woman who not only ate b.u.t.ter and jam at the wrong time of day but also had a terrible accent 'as from Les Halles' (the Parisian market). In fact the best and worst of Francoise's character was displayed in her twin reactions to the d'Aubignes as a couple. he had insisted on marrying to his sister's disgust. Against Francoise's persistent benevolence towards the ungrateful Charles should be weighed her equally persistent scorn for Genevieve. Here was a woman who not only ate b.u.t.ter and jam at the wrong time of day but also had a terrible accent 'as from Les Halles' (the Parisian market). In fact the best and worst of Francoise's character was displayed in her twin reactions to the d'Aubignes as a couple.

Almost immediately after the little girl's birth, Francoise decided that this child should be her heiress, that is, to the Maintenon estate. Her letter to her brother on the subject was brisk: she would 'marry [Francoise-Charlotte] according to my taste, since you gave her to me'. He must not expect too much. However, little Francoise-Charlotte turned out to be the most delightful child,* pretty and obedient, young enough to be the grandchild of the King and his secret wife, a foretaste of the pleasures of such a relationship, where sheer youth amuses an older man. However, the admirable Francoise-Charlotte did not escape her aunt's strictures altogether: at one point she was warned not to regard herself as 'a person of importance' since she was totally dependent on Madame de Maintenon for her prospects and might be fobbed off with 'some miserable country gentleman if her aunt died. pretty and obedient, young enough to be the grandchild of the King and his secret wife, a foretaste of the pleasures of such a relationship, where sheer youth amuses an older man. However, the admirable Francoise-Charlotte did not escape her aunt's strictures altogether: at one point she was warned not to regard herself as 'a person of importance' since she was totally dependent on Madame de Maintenon for her prospects and might be fobbed off with 'some miserable country gentleman if her aunt died.26 It was a piece of good fortune that Madame de Maintenon's interest in the education of girls, especially girls like herself, of gentle birth but lacking a dowry, coincided with the King's increasing need to be amused by younger women (hence his indulgence to his illegitimate daughters). The result was the establishment known as the Foundation of Saint-Louis at Saint-Cyr in 1686: it was for the free education of daughters of the impoverished gentry. Only royal donations were permitted to support the Foundation; the teachers were to be known as the Dames and the girls as the Demoiselles of Saint-Louis. Twelve ladies were invited from the charitable school Saint-Maur to instruct the Dames how to do their work.27 This was a subject on which there was perfect unison between the King and his secret wife. Neither Francoise nor Louis wanted Saint-Cyr to be a convent. Francoise herself had resisted going into a convent; Louis had not totally appreciated those endless convent visits accompanying his mother as a young boy. Sentimentally interested in young women and their welfare, Louis gave his characteristic attention to detail to matters such as their bonnets. Where once the royal virility had been celebrated by the spectacle of his numerous mistresses, Louis XIV was happy now to be regarded in a patriarchal role: guardian of 'the pearls of the kingdom'. And he was particularly happy that the daughters of soldiers who had fallen in war in royal service should be looked after.

A satirical pamphlet printed in Holland referred to Saint-Cyr as 'a seraglio which the old Sultana prepared for the modern Ahasuerus' (Louis XIV).28 This was true only in so far as Louis gloried in the all-female atmosphere of the charming children and girls, aged between seven and twenty, who came to fill the establishment. He loved their modesty: the way that they never permitted themselves to stare outright at the august figure of their sovereign, although they were obviously longing to do so. Louis paid frequent visits, sometimes on foot (Saint-Cyr was conveniently close to Versailles), and enjoyed the excellent music of the scholars. They were divided by age into the youngest Reds, early teenage Greens, Yellows and finally more or less adult Blues. At one point a Mademoiselle de Beaulieu, a Green, with a particularly lovely voice, decided to organise an impromptu song in the King's honour as he was departing on foot after Vespers. So the sweet sound came to him: 'Let him live and triumph for ever, our hero.' It was just what the King wanted; it was indeed what any celebrated older man might want. This was true only in so far as Louis gloried in the all-female atmosphere of the charming children and girls, aged between seven and twenty, who came to fill the establishment. He loved their modesty: the way that they never permitted themselves to stare outright at the august figure of their sovereign, although they were obviously longing to do so. Louis paid frequent visits, sometimes on foot (Saint-Cyr was conveniently close to Versailles), and enjoyed the excellent music of the scholars. They were divided by age into the youngest Reds, early teenage Greens, Yellows and finally more or less adult Blues. At one point a Mademoiselle de Beaulieu, a Green, with a particularly lovely voice, decided to organise an impromptu song in the King's honour as he was departing on foot after Vespers. So the sweet sound came to him: 'Let him live and triumph for ever, our hero.' It was just what the King wanted; it was indeed what any celebrated older man might want.

Madame de Maintenon, for her part, found here the perfect opportunity to control and mould according to her own values. It should also be remarked in her favour that just as Francoise was ahead of her time in her genuine affection for children and their company, she was also modern in her belief in the need for female education to make society work properly (she had already tried one experiment at Noisy in the grounds of Versailles). Francoise spent a great deal of time at Saint-Cyr, sometimes arriving at six o'clock in the morning. On occasion events there produced that rather dry sense of humour which was another aspect of Francoise's character. There was the eager question from a Demoiselle: what should they look out for 'on entering the world'? Instead of a solemn admonition, Francoise replied lightly: 'Don't get dirty in the mud of the courtyard.' On another occasion she had spent a long time chatting in the kitchen when the need arose to attend some formal ceremony. 'But Madame,' cried one of those present, 'you smell just a little of cooking fat!' 'True,' replied Francoise, 'but no one will ever believe it's me.'29 No detail was too small for her to notice (acute attention to detail was something that Louis and Francoise had in common). Good teeth for example were a subject that obsessed her, and dentistry was provided for these provincial girls: the wilful Marguerite had been forced to have her inadequate teeth seen to. The girls were impressed that Francoise interested herself in details of their lingerie, and even more so when she ordained that the portions of food should not be too small, tasting the food herself to make sure of the quality.

The aim was to turn out good Christian women rather than nuns: in fact the emphasis was on the teaching which would enable them to take their place in the world as respectable and useful wives to gentlemen. Thus cheerfulness always helpful in a wife was a recommended virtue. French was to be spoken with a proper accent. Sacred writings were obvious materials for study, and some cla.s.sical texts. It was notable that the theatre was considered a proper area of study where novels were not; but then Louis XIV was and remained a pa.s.sionate lover of the theatre and the girls could hardly go wrong, could they, in pursuing an art which gave their 'hero' such pleasure. In January 1689 the King lent jewellery, some 'brilliant stones' from his collection, as well as suitably rich tapestries, for a performance of Esther Esther by Racine with music by Jean-Baptiste Moreau, a disciple of Lully. by Racine with music by Jean-Baptiste Moreau, a disciple of Lully.

The playwright was by now a friend and ally of Francoise, and may even have helped her with her 'Secret Notebooks' as well as the Const.i.tution of Saint-Cyr. He was also a frequent visitor to her chateau of Maintenon. He went there for example, together with his fellow writer and Royal Historiographer Nicolas Boileau, for rest and recreation in August 1687, when Racine found Madame de Maintenon 'full of wit and good sense'.

The simple and delightful dwelling of Maintenon was, as ever where the presence of Louis XIV was concerned, undergoing alterations and additions: these included two new wings designed by Mansart, cobblestones outside where his guards could strike their bayonets with a noise like thunder to greet their King, and a pa.s.sage for him to reach a special tribune tribune or gallery from which he could overlook the village church and partake in Ma.s.s, unseen. It was shortly after a royal visit that Louis granted his secret wife the Marquisate of Maintenon in June 1688: though ironically, Francoise's dream of a peaceful life there, never really fulfilled, was by now coming to an end altogether owing to the increasing demands of the King's militaristic ambitions. or gallery from which he could overlook the village church and partake in Ma.s.s, unseen. It was shortly after a royal visit that Louis granted his secret wife the Marquisate of Maintenon in June 1688: though ironically, Francoise's dream of a peaceful life there, never really fulfilled, was by now coming to an end altogether owing to the increasing demands of the King's militaristic ambitions.30*

Then there was the aqueduct which had been intended to reach the height of the cathedral of Notre-Dame, and which Charles d'Aubigne found 'grotesque'. It was part of an ambitious plan on the part of the King to divert the waters of the river Eure to feed the fountains of Versailles. Soldiers toiled and workmen died of fever from the marshes; in the end the project was abandoned. It was part of an ambitious plan on the part of the King to divert the waters of the river Eure to feed the fountains of Versailles. Soldiers toiled and workmen died of fever from the marshes; in the end the project was abandoned.

Where the themes of plays at Saint-Cyr were concerned, 'holy theatre' was the desired note. Almost immediately however Racine ran into a problem with Esther. Esther. His play was taken straight from the biblical story of the virtuous Israelite Esther preferred by King Ahasuerus over the 'arrogant' and contemptuous Vashti, who had 'reigned a long time over his offended soul'. It was hardly difficult for the gossipmongers to equate Esther with Francoise and Athenais with Vashti. The emphasis was all on the renewal of Ahasuerus's life, thanks to the serenity of Esther: 'The darkest shade of care she wafts away / And turns my gloomiest days to gleaming day,' and again: 'Everything in Esther breathes innocence and peace.' By the end of the play the chorus of Israelites was saluting Ahasuerus's own virtue: 'The roaring lion is a peaceful lamb,' and thanking G.o.d for the outcome: 'In Thy hand is the heart of Kings.' To avoid the embarra.s.sment of the amusing parallel to the King's love life, Racine hurriedly wrote a Prologue making it clear that Ahasuerus was nothing but a stage King ... This Prologue was spoken by Piety, played by Marguerite, Francoise's protegee and the star performer at Saint-Cyr, who declaimed it by heart. His play was taken straight from the biblical story of the virtuous Israelite Esther preferred by King Ahasuerus over the 'arrogant' and contemptuous Vashti, who had 'reigned a long time over his offended soul'. It was hardly difficult for the gossipmongers to equate Esther with Francoise and Athenais with Vashti. The emphasis was all on the renewal of Ahasuerus's life, thanks to the serenity of Esther: 'The darkest shade of care she wafts away / And turns my gloomiest days to gleaming day,' and again: 'Everything in Esther breathes innocence and peace.' By the end of the play the chorus of Israelites was saluting Ahasuerus's own virtue: 'The roaring lion is a peaceful lamb,' and thanking G.o.d for the outcome: 'In Thy hand is the heart of Kings.' To avoid the embarra.s.sment of the amusing parallel to the King's love life, Racine hurriedly wrote a Prologue making it clear that Ahasuerus was nothing but a stage King ... This Prologue was spoken by Piety, played by Marguerite, Francoise's protegee and the star performer at Saint-Cyr, who declaimed it by heart.32 The King adored Esther Esther and saw it at least five times. It confirmed him in his opinion of Saint-Cyr as 'a dwelling inhabited by Grace', in the words put into the mouth of Piety by Racine. and saw it at least five times. It confirmed him in his opinion of Saint-Cyr as 'a dwelling inhabited by Grace', in the words put into the mouth of Piety by Racine.33 He loved the sight and sound of the young girls playing the chorus of Israelites: 'A swarm of innocent beauties / What amiable modesty is painted on their faces.' The court too was only too happy to find an enjoyable entertainment of which their newly puritanical master actually approved. Madame de Sevigne had wondered how a young girl could encompa.s.s the part of Ahasuerus. A little later she was able to see for herself, sitting behind the row of superior d.u.c.h.esses at the front. Afterwards she had one of those ba.n.a.l dialogues with royalty which nevertheless give pleasure to the most intelligent of their subjects. He loved the sight and sound of the young girls playing the chorus of Israelites: 'A swarm of innocent beauties / What amiable modesty is painted on their faces.' The court too was only too happy to find an enjoyable entertainment of which their newly puritanical master actually approved. Madame de Sevigne had wondered how a young girl could encompa.s.s the part of Ahasuerus. A little later she was able to see for herself, sitting behind the row of superior d.u.c.h.esses at the front. Afterwards she had one of those ba.n.a.l dialogues with royalty which nevertheless give pleasure to the most intelligent of their subjects.

'Madame, I have been a.s.sured that you were pleased,' began the King. 'Sire, I was charmed,' gushed Madame de Sevigne, 'all that I experienced is beyond words.' 'Racine has plenty of intelligence,' observed the King. 'Sire, he does indeed,' she agreed, 'but to be honest, the young people were also very good; they attacked their roles as if they had never done anything else.' 'Ah, how true that is!' were the King's final satisfying words. And off he went, leaving Madame de Sevigne the object of general envy by the court for the gracious notice she had received.34 Sixteen eighty-six, which marked the agreeable establishment of the 'seraglio' at Saint-Cyr, was also the King's annus hornbilis annus hornbilis where his health was concerned. Some premonition must have caused him to anchor Francoise to his side, for he certainly needed a wife at this point, not a mistress. We know a great deal at times perhaps more than we want about the health of Louis XIV from the detailed journals of his doctors, as well as those of Dangeau. where his health was concerned. Some premonition must have caused him to anchor Francoise to his side, for he certainly needed a wife at this point, not a mistress. We know a great deal at times perhaps more than we want about the health of Louis XIV from the detailed journals of his doctors, as well as those of Dangeau.35 He was purged routinely once a month, known as 'taking medicine' (doses of herbs), as well as being given He was purged routinely once a month, known as 'taking medicine' (doses of herbs), as well as being given lavements lavements (enemas) with mixtures of water, milk, honey and almond oil. (enemas) with mixtures of water, milk, honey and almond oil.* But early in 1686 a boil on his thigh, combined with the painful gout in his right foot, meant that he could hardly walk, despite tinctures of myrrh and aloes, red wine and absinthe. The boil was eventually cauterised, but it was not until May that the King could once again walk in his beloved Orangery at Versailles. In the meantime he had been obliged to lie down for Council meetings and shoot from his little carriage. In August the introduction of quinine helped the gout. But worse was to follow. But early in 1686 a boil on his thigh, combined with the painful gout in his right foot, meant that he could hardly walk, despite tinctures of myrrh and aloes, red wine and absinthe. The boil was eventually cauterised, but it was not until May that the King could once again walk in his beloved Orangery at Versailles. In the meantime he had been obliged to lie down for Council meetings and shoot from his little carriage. In August the introduction of quinine helped the gout. But worse was to follow.

In the autumn the King developed an a.n.a.l fistula, an abnormal fissure in that area. Painful as this was, the treatment, which involved separating the tissues with a scalpel (in an age, of course, before anaesthetics), was even more agonising. The Grand Operation, as it was later known, took place at seven o'clock in the morning of 19 November. It was kept a close secret. The people who shared it were Francoise, Father La Chaise, the doctor f.a.gon and the surgeon Felix. (It was said that Felix's hand trembled for the rest of his life after the event.) Louis, the master of self-control, displayed exemplary fort.i.tude and bore it all with a single cry of 'My G.o.d' when the first incision was made.37 His silent sufferings resembled those of the tortured t.i.tan in the Fountain of Enceladus at Versailles, whose shoulder is half-crushed by the rocks of Mount Olympus; his eyes are staring, but only the noise of the water coming out of his speechless mouth can be heard. His silent sufferings resembled those of the tortured t.i.tan in the Fountain of Enceladus at Versailles, whose shoulder is half-crushed by the rocks of Mount Olympus; his eyes are staring, but only the noise of the water coming out of his speechless mouth can be heard.

Almost as extraordinary as Louis's fort.i.tude under the knife was the fact that he actually held a Council meeting that night. The next morning he also held his normal lever lever for the court, although the sheen of perspiration could be seen on his dead-white face. Messages were sent to the royal family after the event, but they were forbidden to rush to him. Despite this, the Dauphin arrived at a gallop, in floods of tears. Athenais, who was with her daughter Madame la d.u.c.h.esse at Fontainebleau, also hurried to Versailles only to be told that there was no crisis and she should go back. By the time Louis saw the old Prince de Conde on 22 November he was able to observe with sangfroid: 'People who weren't here believe my illness to have been great, but the moment they see me, they realise that I have scarcely suffered.' (It was in fact the Grand Conde who died a few weeks later.) Unfortunately another smaller operation was needed to remedy the suppuration following the first one. The second cure worked: by the middle of March 1687 Louis was able to mount a horse again for the first time. for the court, although the sheen of perspiration could be seen on his dead-white face. Messages were sent to the royal family after the event, but they were forbidden to rush to him. Despite this, the Dauphin arrived at a gallop, in floods of tears. Athenais, who was with her daughter Madame la d.u.c.h.esse at Fontainebleau, also hurried to Versailles only to be told that there was no crisis and she should go back. By the time Louis saw the old Prince de Conde on 22 November he was able to observe with sangfroid: 'People who weren't here believe my illness to have been great, but the moment they see me, they realise that I have scarcely suffered.' (It was in fact the Grand Conde who died a few weeks later.) Unfortunately another smaller operation was needed to remedy the suppuration following the first one. The second cure worked: by the middle of March 1687 Louis was able to mount a horse again for the first time.

During his year of illness, Louis had not been able to attend the unveiling of his equestrian statue on 16 March in the Place des Victoires in Paris, laid out by Mansart the previous year; the Dauphin went in his place.* Now, in 1687, he was able to make one of his rare visits to Paris and inspect it for himself. Here the great King saw himself mounted aloft, above bas-reliefs on the pedestal of the Pa.s.sage of the Rhine. The scale was magnificent and certainly in keeping with the contemporary notion of Louis le Grand: twenty men could and did dine inside the belly of the horse during its installation. The vogue for statues of the King was spreading through the provinces and far beyond: Quebec, the capital of New France since 1663, was graced with a bust of Louis XIV in its Place Royale. Louisiana, the area of North America conquered by Robert La Salle in 1682, went further and commemorated the King in its actual name. Now, in 1687, he was able to make one of his rare visits to Paris and inspect it for himself. Here the great King saw himself mounted aloft, above bas-reliefs on the pedestal of the Pa.s.sage of the Rhine. The scale was magnificent and certainly in keeping with the contemporary notion of Louis le Grand: twenty men could and did dine inside the belly of the horse during its installation. The vogue for statues of the King was spreading through the provinces and far beyond: Quebec, the capital of New France since 1663, was graced with a bust of Louis XIV in its Place Royale. Louisiana, the area of North America conquered by Robert La Salle in 1682, went further and commemorated the King in its actual name.38 These salutations kept pace with his own policy of These salutations kept pace with his own policy of reunions reunions mentioned earlier, that is to say, acquiring territories that he considered to be properly French. Then there were other lands which he considered had been bestowed upon France by marriages to heiress-princesses. The Spanish Netherlands was a prominent example of this. mentioned earlier, that is to say, acquiring territories that he considered to be properly French. Then there were other lands which he considered had been bestowed upon France by marriages to heiress-princesses. The Spanish Netherlands was a prominent example of this.

It was in 1685 that the death of Liselotte's childless brother the Elector Palatine induced in Louis a new rush of territorial adrenalin: he would claim for Liselotte certain lands not covered by Salic Law (which prohibited female inheritance); or rather he claimed them for Monsieur, since by French law, the wife's rights were subsumed into the husband's. The League of Augsburg of 1686, an alliance against France which included Austria, Spain and Bavaria, was aimed at French expansionism. It provided the excuse for a disingenuous Declaration by the King to the effect that he was now obliged to resort to arms against his own will.

By the autumn of 1688 it was decided by the Council that a quick preventative war would secure the desired German cities. On 10 September six thousand troops entered Bonn, and the Dauphin himself was dispatched to seize Philippsburg. By December, Louvois was drawing up plans according to 'the intentions of His Majesty ... to destroy the city and citadel of Mannheim and all its houses'.39 In the meantime Louis had quarrelled with the Papacy over the nomination of the new Bishop of Cologne and had taken the opportunity to seize Avignon. In the meantime Louis had quarrelled with the Papacy over the nomination of the new Bishop of Cologne and had taken the opportunity to seize Avignon.

The misery of Liselotte herself throughout this autumn can hardly be exaggerated. In particular she was horrified at the plans to raze Mannheim to the ground, the city which her father had rebuilt with such care: 'My name is being used for the ruin of my homeland.' She told the Dauphin that she saw the destruction of Heidelberg and Mannheim in her nightmares. Unable to control her suffering in public, Liselotte incurred the strong disapproval of the King, both for her sentiments and the uncontrolled manner of their expression. A few years earlier she had been ticked off indirectly by Louis his confessor spoke to hers for a variety of failings. Her language was vulgar: she had for example told the Dauphin that even if she saw him b.o.l.l.o.c.k-naked from the soles of his feet up, she would not be tempted by him (nor anyone else). She had allowed her ladies to indulge in gallantries, and had merely laughed with the wayward Marie-Anne de Conti about her own behaviour instead of reprimanding her.40 Liselotte was privately furious. She was not 'a chambermaid', she told her aunt Sophia, to be treated like this, unlike the King's precious Maintenon 'who was born to it'. She was not the Princesse de Conti's governess either, to stop her having lovers if she wanted them. Her frank language and with her talk of c.r.a.pping and p.i.s.sing it was was frank she blamed on the King: he had said a hundred times that in the family one could say anything. And as for her ladies' gallantries, 'such conduct was not without precedent' and in fact 'quite usual at any court'. (Liselotte certainly had a point there.) In general, Liselotte's slavish devotion to Louis was fading. When she pleaded for her father and he merely replied: frank she blamed on the King: he had said a hundred times that in the family one could say anything. And as for her ladies' gallantries, 'such conduct was not without precedent' and in fact 'quite usual at any court'. (Liselotte certainly had a point there.) In general, Liselotte's slavish devotion to Louis was fading. When she pleaded for her father and he merely replied: Je verrai' Je verrai' (I shall see) Liselotte wrote bitterly that this royal formula was worse than a straightforward refusal. (I shall see) Liselotte wrote bitterly that this royal formula was worse than a straightforward refusal.*41 The truth was that neither Liselotte as Second Lady nor the Dauphine as acting First Lady of Versailles was fulfilling Louis's expectations; the latter had to be instructed to form a suitable circle with the curt words on the subject of royal duties: 'We are not individuals.'42 it was here that the absence of a Queen-figure mattered to the whole harmony of the court: this was a need that Francoise could not fulfil. it was here that the absence of a Queen-figure mattered to the whole harmony of the court: this was a need that Francoise could not fulfil.

The King's decision to attack Germany in September 1688 was however to have unexpected consequences in that respect. There soon would be a Queen at Versailles, if not a Queen of France. The German foray meant that Louis failed to support the besieged Catholic King of England, James II, whom his own Parliament was trying to oust after a disastrous reign of under four years. He calculated that James's Protestant son-in-law William of Orange would not dare to invade England in late autumn. He was wrong. In the absence of the French navy, which Louis directed elsewhere, William sailed triumphantly towards England, landing on 4 November at Brixham in Torbay in the West Country. Within weeks Queen Mary Beatrice and her infant son were fleeing for France. As Louis XIV received the pathetic refugee, he was welcoming, of course, not only an unhappy woman, but also a policy: it was a policy of support for the Jacobite cause, as that of the exiled King James would soon become known.

After his death, it was discovered that his stomach and bowels in their size and capacity were double those of any ordinary man. No doubt this information consoled the surviving courtiers who had had to keep up with him.The disappointed Figuelotte married another older man, the widowed Elector of Brandenburg, later first King of Prussia; her son was Frederick William I, the Soldier King, and her grandson Frederick the Great. Her possible progeny by Louis XIV surely great warriors are material for speculation.Although morganatic marriages were princ.i.p.ally used to enable a man of royal rank to marry a women of inferior status, it has been suggested that the Grande Mademoiselle married her suitor Lauzun in this manner when he was released from his long imprisonment, as many of their contemporaries believed.6The Journals Journals of the Marquis de Dangeau, from 1684 onwards, are an important source for the day-to-day routine, including the health, of Louis XIV. of the Marquis de Dangeau, from 1684 onwards, are an important source for the day-to-day routine, including the health, of Louis XIV.The eight little volumes, 4 inches by 2 inches, are now preserved in the Bibliotheque Munic.i.p.ale de Versailles.She is the wide-eyed, curly-haired little girl who features in the most famous portrait of Madame de Maintenon.It has been calculated that in the twenty-four years Francoise owned the property she spent between eight and ten months there, if all the visits are added up.31 Now a charming ruin, resembling a picture by Hubert Robert.Le Roy Ladurie has argued that bleeding and especially purging fulfilled 'a ritual of royal purity, comparable to the constant washing and bathing inc.u.mbent on the highest Brahmin circles in the Indian caste system'. Enemas were regularly prescribed by seventeenth-century doctors to rid the patient's body of its noxious humours.36The present statue is a nineteenth-century replacement of the original, which was destroyed at the time of the French Revolution.Je verrai was unpopular with others besides Liselotte: a one-armed Gascon soldier exclaimed: 'If I had said "I shall see" to my general, ordering me into battle, I should still have my arm.' was unpopular with others besides Liselotte: a one-armed Gascon soldier exclaimed: 'If I had said "I shall see" to my general, ordering me into battle, I should still have my arm.'41

CHAPTER 12

Grandeurs of the World

You see what becomes of the grandeurs of the world, we shall come to that, you and I. Louis XIV to the Dauphin, 1690 Mary Beatrice, the fugitive Queen of England who flung herself upon the mercies of Louis XIV, was no longer the shy, sweet princess who had pa.s.sed through France on her way to marriage fifteen years earlier. Then the tender King had described himself to the pretty teenager as her 'G.o.dfather'; she was after all the daughter of a Mazarinette, Laura Martinozzi, who had been matched by her Cardinal-uncle to the future Duke of Modena. But Mary Beatrice's marriage had been from the first extremely testing both privately and publicly, and she had changed.

In 1673, at the age of fifteen, she found herself matched to an ageing and not particularly prepossessing prince twenty-five years her senior. James, then Duke of York, had been a dashing soldier in his youth, but somehow the Stuarts (those that kept their heads) did not improve with age. He was also a notorious roue roue like his brother Charles, but without the charm that enabled the Merry Monarch to carry these things off: so ugly were his mistresses that Charles wittily suggested they had been imposed upon him by his confessors. The young Catholic d.u.c.h.ess of York had to tolerate her husband's b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, as well as the two Protestant daughters by his first wife, Mary and Anne. James's marriage was from the first extremely unpopular in the country: understandably so, since Charles II's intention in agreeing to it was to curry favour with the Frenc