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MADAME 

A LIFE OF 

HENRIETTA, DAUGHTER OF CHARLES I. 

AND DUCHESS OF ORLEANS 



BY 

JULIA CARTWRIGHT 

(Mrs Henry Ady) 

AUTHOR OF 
SACIIAKISSA," "the PILGRIMS* WAY," ETC., ETC. 



"Madame, que Ics siecles enliers auront peine a lemplacer et \io\if 
la beaute et pour la belle jeunesse et pour la danse." 

Madame de SEVioNfe. 

" Cette princesse h qui tout avail concouru, 
Pour lui gagner les cceurs, et se voir adoree, 
Semble n 'avoir paru, 
Que pour estre pleuree." 

Epitaph on Madame. 



NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 

743-745 BROADWAY 

1894 






^/^^ 



M^ 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER I 
' 1644 — 1646 

Birth of riincess Ilcnriclla at Exeter — Iler Baptism in the Callicdral — Flight of 
the Queen — Exeter relieved by the King — Besiegctl and taken by Fairfax 
— Escape of Lady Dalkeith and the Princess to France . . i 

CHAPTER II 
1646— 1655 

Wars of the Fronde — The Royal Exiles in Paris — Death of Charles I. — The Prin- 
cess Henrietta brought up a Roman Catholic — Attack on the Duke of 
Gloucester's Religion . . . . . .17 

CHAPTER III 
1655—1656 

Education of the Princess Henrietta — Court Fetes and Ballets — Visit of the 
Princess of Orange to Paris — Charles H. at Bruges . '. .32 

CHAPTER IV 
1657— 1660 

Marriage of Louis XIV. — Portraits of the Princesse d'Angletcrre — Letters from 
Charles H. — The Restoration — Letters of Henrietta to her Brother' 44 

CHAPTER V 

1660 

Philip, Duke of Orleans, makes Henrietta an Offer of Marriage — State Entry of 
Louis XIV. and his Queen — Embassy of the Comtc de Soissons to England 
— Death of Henry, Duke of Gloucester — Visit of the Princess of Orange 
to London — Reception of the Queen-mother and Princess Henrietta in 
England . . . . . . . .61 



IV CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER VI 
1660 — 1 66 1 

Death of the Princess of Orange — Illness of the Princess Henrietta — Her Return to 
Paris — Her Marriage with Monsieur celebrated at the Palais Royal 77 

CHAPTER VII 
1661 

Madame at the Tuileries and Saint-Cloud — Friendship of the King for Madame — 
Fetes of the Court at Fontainebleau — Ballet des Saisojis . , 88 

CHAPTER VIII 
1661 — 1662 

Intrigues and Jealousies in the Royal Family — The Comte de Guiche — F^tn de 
Viuix — Disgrace of Fouquet — Illness of Madame — Letters from Charles II. 
— Intrigues at the Palais-Royal — Birth of Marie Louise d'Orleans . 104 

CHAPTER IX 
1662 

Carrousel at the Louvre — Henrietta Maria goes to England — Marriage of Charles 
II. to the Infanta of Portugal— Louis XIV. and La Valliere— Sale of 
Dunkirk — Madame de Chatillon's Petition — M. de Comminges sent as 
Ambassador to England . . . . . .117 

CHAPTER X 
1663 

Ballet des Arts — Charles II. corresponds with Louis XIV. through Matlame — 
Foire de Saint-Germain — Attack on the Lord Chancellor — Madame de 
Mecklembourg's Marriage — Illness of Louis XIV. . . . 129 

CHAPTER XI 

1663 

Intrigues of De Vardes and the Comtesse de Soissons — Illness of Queen Catherine 
•^Lord Hollis sent as Ambassador to France — The C^uarrel of the Coaches 
— Madame becomes the true Ambassador . . . .141 

CHAPTER XII 

1664 

Fetes at Paris, at Versailles and Fontainebleau — Court Intrigues — Disputes be- 
tween Lord Hollis ami the Frencli Ministers — Negotiations wilh 
Holland ........ 156 



CONTENTS. V 

CHAPTER XIII 

1664 

Birth of the Due de Valois— Intrigues of De Varrles— Letters of Charles II. and 
Renewal of Negotiations — Madame endeavours to recover her Father's 
Jewels ........ J64 

CHAPTER XIV 

1664 — 1665 

Arrest of De Vardes — Madame's last Interview with the Comte de Guiche — 
Verdict of contemporary Writers on her Character — Madame de La Fayette's 
Vie de Madame Henrietie — Madame a Patron of Art and Letters — Her 
Friendship with Moliere, Racine, La Fontaine, Bussy and others . 180 

CHAPTER XV 

1665 

Ballet of the Birth of Venus — The Comet — War between England and Holland — ■ 
Negotiations between Charles II. and Louis XIV. conducted by Madame 
— A Special Embassy sent to London . . . .198 

CHAPTER XVI 

1665 — i666 

Naval War between England and Holland — Victory of the Duke of York — 
Rejoicings in Paris — The Great Plague — Return of the Ambassadors to 
France — Death of Anne of Austria — Sermons of I'Abbe Bossuet . 212 

CHAPTER XVII 
1666 

The Chevalier de Lorraine becomes Monsieur's Favourite — Excellent Influence of 
Cosnac, Bishop of Valence — Libel of Manicamp — Copies destroyed by the 
Bishop — His Admiration for Madame, and Character of this Princess in his 
Memoirs — Peace of Breda ...... 230 

CHAPTER XVIII 
1666— 1668 

Death of the Due dc Valois — Invasion of Flanders — Monsieur joins the Army and 
distinguishes himself in the Field — Illness of Madame — Visit of the Duke 

1 1 1^ 'Y^ of Monmouth — Intrigue of Lorraine — Disgrace of the Bishop of 
Valence . . ..... 239 



VI CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XIX 

1668 

The Triple Alliance — Conquest of Franche-Comte — Court Intrigues in France and 
England — Lady Shrewsbury and Madame de Mazarin . 255 

CHAPTER XX 

1668 

F^te of Versailles — Madame's Domestic Troubles — A Double Treaty between 
France and England proposed — Terms of Alliance between the two Kings 
secretly discussed — Plans of Louis XIV. against Holland — Charles II. 's 
intended Profession of the Roman Catholic Faith . . . 267 

CHAPTER XXI 

1669 

Secret Negotiations continued — L'Abb^ Pregnani sent to England — Madame 
corresponds with Buckingham and Arlington — Last Letters from Charles II. 
to his Sister ... , , . . 27S 

CHAPTER XXII 
1669 

Birth of Madame's younger Daughter — Death of Queen Henrietta Maria — Bossuet's 
Funeral Oration — Madame de La Fayette's Vie de Madame Hcnriette — 
Arrest of Cosnac, and Dismissal of Madame de Saint-Chaumont . 294 

CHAPTER XXIII 

1670 

Arrest of the Chevalier de Lorraine — Monsieur retires to Villers-Cotterets — 
Arrival of the English Envoys — Colbert induces Monsieur to return to 
Court — lie consents reluctantly to Madame's visit to England — Letters of 
Henrietta to Madame dc Sainl-Chaumont .... 308 

CHAPTER XXIV 

1670 

Journey of the Court to Flanders — Madame's Visit to Dover — The Treaty of Dover 
finally concluded — Chief Articles of the Secret Treaty — Waller's Sonnet — 
Madame returns to France — Her last Days at Saint-Cloud . . 327 



CONTENTS. Vll 

CHAPTER XXV 

1670 
Sudden Illness and Death of Madame at Saint-Cloud, on Monday, June 30 344 

CHAPTER XXVI 
1670 

Grief of the King and Court for Madame — Popular Feeling in England — The 
Suspicion that she was Poisoned becomes General — Letters of Montagu — 
Saint-Simon's Version — Was Madame Poisoned, or was her Death due to 
Natural Causes ?....... 356 

CHAPTER XXVII 

1670 

Conduct of Monsieur after his Wife's Death — Grief of Madame's Friends — 
Funeral Services at Saint-Denis, Val-de-Grrice and Saint-Cloud— Bossuet's 
Oraison •■•..,.. 373 

CHAPTER XXVIII 

Portraits of Madame byMignard, Lely and Pelitot— Her Children, Marie Louise, 
Queen of Spain, and Anne Marie, Queen of Sardinia . , 388 

Index 403 



PREFACE 



Henrietta, Duchess of Orleans, is so interesting 
and attractive a figure in the history of the seven- 
teenth century, and forms so important a link be- 
tween Charles II. and Louis XIV., that it is strange 
to find how little has been written about her in our 
own time and country. All we have are a few 
chapters in Mrs Everett-Green's Lives of English 
Princesses, and in Miss Strickland's Lives of ihe Fotir 
Last Stuart Princesses. Of these two accounts, the 
former is by far the fullest and most accurate. But 
the limits of her work naturally prevented Mrs Green 
from doing justice to her subject, and there are 
many notable omissions in her history of Madame 
Henriette. She does not give any of the letters 
which have been published in Daniel de Cosnac's 
Memoirs, nor had she access to that portion of 
Charles II.'s correspondence which is preserved in 
the French Archives. A few fragments of these 
letters, addressed by this monarch to his sister be- 
tween 1660 and 1669, were printed by Sir John 
Dalrymple in his Memoirs of the Reign of Charles LL., 
and by Mignet in his Negotiations relatives a la Suc- 
cession dEspagne. But the greater part remained 
unknown, to all but a few students, until some ten 



X PREFACE. 



years ago they were published by M. de Baillon, in 
a volume entitled Henriette Anne d'.Angleieri^e, sa 
vie et sa Correspondance avec son frhx Charles II. ., a 
work of considerable merit, which is now out of 
print. Even here, however, several letters of the 
series are omitted, and Charles II.'s vigorous English 
naturally loses much of its force and character by 
being translated into French. These letters, which 
are now for the first time given to the world in their 
original form, are ninety-eight in number, and have, 
been copied from the MSS. in the Archives du 
Ministere des Affaires Hrangeres, by special permis- 
sion obtained through M. Ribot, Ministre des Affaires 
dtrangereSy from the Commission des Archives diplo- 
matiques at the request of her Majesty's Ambassador, 
the Marquis of Dufferin and Ava, K.P. My thanks 
are also due, in an especial manner, to M. Girard 
de Rialle, Ministre PUnipotentiare, Chef de la Divi- 
sion des Archives des Affaires dtraiigh^es, for the great 
kindness and courtesy with which he assisted my 
researches. 

These letters, as might be expected, are of rare 
interest. Their style is as lively as their contents are 
varied. They treat of the chief political events in 
England during the first ten years after the Restora- 
tion, and are full of gossip about public and private 
matters. Charles II.'s first impressions of his new 
Queen, his quarrels with the Duchess of Richmond, 
the struggle of England and Holland for naval 
supremacy, the fall of Clarendon and the intrigues 
of Buckingham, the conclusion of the Triple Alli- 
ance, and the long negotiations that were carried on 



PREFACE. XI 

secretly between the two kings, are all freely dis- 
cussed. And, on the whole, they give us a better 
idea of this monarch's character than we had before. 
We see him, it is true, with all his faults and weak- 
nesses, his incurable levity and cynical unconcern, 
his indolence and easy good-nature. But at the 
same time we see his remarkable abilities and keen 
sense of humour, the courage and spirit with which 
he could defend the privileges of his subjects and the 
rights of the British flag, and the deep and lasting 
affection which he had for his " dearest Minette" as 
he called the sister whom he loved so well. 

Besides this valuable series of letters, several 
documents, from the collection of State Papers on 
French affairs in the Record Office, are now pub- 
lished for the first time, and help to throw fresh 
light on various incidents in the life of this English 
Princess. 

Madame, to call her by the more familiar name, 
was herself an active and charming letter-writer. 
Her descriptions are of the most graphic kind, her 
language is clear and simple. " With all her divine 
qualities," writes the Bishop of Valence, " this Prin- 
cess was the most human of creatures." She pours 
out her heart in the most unconstrained manner to 
her different correspondents. Whether her mood be 
grave or gay, whether she discusses important affairs 
of state, or sends a hasty note to a friend, her style 
is always bright and natural, full of life and spirit. 
Her wit brightens the most tedious controversies, 
and the generous warmth of her heart reveals itself 
at every page. In her graver moments she is full 



XU PREFACE. 

of charm, in her darkest and most desolate hours 
her words have a pathos which would move the 
hardest heart. It is impossible not to share her 
joys, or to be touched by the tale of her sorrows. 
We yield unconsciously to the might of her spell, 
and own the power of a fascination which the ablest 
men of the day were unable to resist. 

Unfortunately, all Madame's letters to her mother, 
Queen Henrietta Maria, have perished, and we only 
possess a small part of her correspondence with her 
brother, Charles II. Forty-three letters from her 
pen are all that I have been able to discover. Of 
these, seventeen addressed to Charles are preserved 
in the collection of Royal MS. Letters in the library 
of Lambeth Palace. Nine letters to her brother are 
among the French State Papers at the Record Office, 
and one short note was lent by the Due de Fitz- 
James to the Stuart Exhibition, A copy of a letter, 
addressed to Sir Ellis Leighton, is in the French 
Archives. Eleven others, written by Madame to the 
governess of her children, Madame de Saint Chau- 
mont, or to the author himself, are given by Daniel 
de Cosnac in his Memoirs. Of the remaining four, 
two, addressed to the Princesse Palatine and the 
Cardinal de Retz, belonged to M. Monmerque's col- 
lection. The other two, addressed respectively to 
Madame de La Fayette and the Marcchal de Tur- 
enne, are preserved in the Bibliotheque Nationale 
and the Bibliotheque de Nantes. 

Contemporary Memoirs and letters supply another 
iniportant source of information. Here the wealth of 
material at the biographer's disposal is almost inex- 



PREFACE. Xlll 

haustible. There is hardly a French work of the 
period which has not something to tell of Madame. 
In Madame de La Fayette's Histoire de Madame 
Heiiriette, we have a detailed account of certain epi- 
sodes in her life, written by an intimate friend, at 
her own suggestion, and partly from her own dicta- 
tion. This book was first published in 1720, half a 
century after Madame's death. Since then it has 
gone through many editions. The last appeared in 
1882, and had the advantage of an admirable Intro- 
duction from the pen of M. Anatole France, which 
deserves to be reprinted. Next in importance to 
Madame de La Fayette's Life is a far less known 
work, the Memoirs of Daniel de Cosnac, Bishop of 
Valence. As Grand Almoner in Monsieur's house- 
hold, this prelate was closely associated with Madame 
in the most difficult moments of her life, and her 
figure occupies a large space in his reminiscences. 
Besides these, we have a whole host of contemporary 
records, dealing more or less directly with Madame's 
history. Pere Cyprien de Gamaches and Madame 
de Motteville give us many interesting details re- 
garding her early years. Mademoiselle de Mont- 
pensier, I'Abb^ de Choisy, the Marquis de La Fare, 
M. de Beaumelle, Saint -Simon and the Princesse 
Palatine, who became the second wife of Monsieur, 
all speak of her triumphs and sorrows, and bear 
witness to her influence and popularity at the Court 
of Louis XIV. The letters of Madame de Sevigne 
and of Madame de La Fayette, of Bussy-Rabutin 
and of Madame de Scudery repeat the praises of her 
charms and of her goodness, of the superior intellect 



XIV PREFACE. 

and cultivated taste which made her the ornament of 
her age." Jean Loret, the author of the Muse Histo- 
riqtie, introduces her name at every page of his quaint 
rhyming chronicle. Benserade and Madame de Suze 
addressed their courtly verses to her, as the leader of 
beauty and fashion, Racine and Moliere dedicated 
their great plays to her, as the most intelligent and 
accomplished of princesses. 

The correspondence of Colbert and Lionne, of 
Temple and of Pomponne, of Buckingham and 
Arlington, of Hollis and Montagu, reveal a new 
aspect of her character. There we see her conduct- 
ing important negotiations between two powerful 
monarchs, trusted with all their secrets, correspond- 
ing with their several ministers, and displaying a tact 
and ability, a coolness and penetration, which amazed 
grey-headed statesmen. 

So brilliant and memorable was the part that 
Madame played during the short twenty-six years of 
her life. That life, as we all know, was brought to 
a close by a sudden and terrible death. The elo- 
quence of Bossuet has made its tragic circumstances 
famous, and the suspicion of poisoning, that was 
generally aroused at the time, has arrested the atten- 
tion not only of her contemporaries, but of posterity. 
No less than five different accounts of Madame's last 
illness have been left us by persons who were at 
Saint-Cloud on that fatal night. Bossuet and the 
Jansenist priest, Feuillet, Madame de La Fayette, 
Mademoiselle and the English Ambassador, Ralph 
Montagu, have all recorded their impressions of the 
scene, and of Madame's actions and words during 



PREFACE. XV 

those eight hours of mortal agony. But the best 
account is given by Cosnac, who, although absent 
himself, received a full report of Madame's death, 
either from his friend, M. de Saint-Laurens, or from 
some other member of Monsieur's household. He 
confirms the truth of the chief facts recorded by the 
above-named eye-witnesses, and describes, better than 
any one of them, the interview of Bossuet with the 
dying Princess, and the last words with which she 
passed out of this life, "to the infinite grief," wrote 
Cardinal Barberini, " not only of France, but of all 
Europe." 



M A DAME 



4 



CHAPTER I 
1644 — 1646 

Birth of Princess Henrietta at Exeter — Her Baptism in the Cathedral — Flight of 
the Queen — Exeter relieved by the King — Besieged and taken by Fairfax 
— Escape of Lady Dalkeith and the Princess to France. 

Of all the royal ladies of the Stuart race, none has a stronger 
claim on our interest than Henrietta, Duchess of Orleans. 
The charm of her personality, and the romantic story of her 
life both attract us in a peculiar manner. Among the famous 
men and women of that famous century, there is no more 
gracious figure than that of this young Princess, who, born in 
the midst of civil war, and bred in poverty and exile, lived to 
play an important part in political life, and to become the 
brightest star of the most splendid Court in Europe. 

Henrietta belongs so entirely to France by her education 
and marriage, that we are apt to forget the share we have in 
her. We think of her only as the wife of Louis XIV.'s 
brother, the Madame of Bossuet's Oraison, and need to be 
reminded that she was a Princess of England. Yet Mignard's 
portraits, for all their French prettiness, reveal her birth. The 
long, oval face, the straight, thin nose, the arched brows, the 
eyes and hair, all bear a strong likeness to the kingly features 
which Vandyke has immortalised. And in spite of the 
vivacity and sparkle which she inherited from her mother, 
her character, on the whole, was more that of a Stuart than 
of a Bourbon. She possessed, in a prominent degree, the 

A 



2 BIRTH OF HENRIETTA. 

distinctive qualities of her illustrious ancestors. She had 
their remarkable abilities and their engaging manners, their 
love of culture and refined taste in art and literature. She 
had the same natural gaiety, the same love of amusement, the 
same scorn for conventionalities, the same impatience of 
etiquette and ceremonial. Her actions display the same 
impetuous feeling and carelessness of appearances, together 
with the same generous warmth of heart. At the same time, 
her character is plainly marked by that deeper and more 
serious vein, that strain of thoughtful and tender melancholy 
which was common to the best of the Stuarts. Above all, 
Henrietta possessed, in a supreme measure, that gift of draw- 
ing out sympathy and inspiring devotion in those about her, 
which was so striking a characteristic of her ill-fated race. 
She had many rivals, and not a few enemies, but no one was 
more faithfully served and more passionately beloved, or 
more deeply and enduringly lamented. And when a tragic 
fate brought her days to a close, at the very moment of her 
proudest triumph, she met her end with a courage and a 
gentleness not unworthy of a daughter of Charles I. 

The romance of Henrietta's life begins from her cradle. 
She was born at Exeter in 1644, at a critical moment of the 
Civil Wars. Two months before, on the eve of the battle of 
Newbury, Queen Henrietta Maria had parted, for the last 
time on earth, from her husband. As the Parliament's forces 
increased in strength, and the war raged fiercely round 
Oxford, Charles had urged her to seek a quieter and safer 
retreat. From Abingdon, after taking leave of the King, 
Henrietta travelled by easy stages to Exeter, where she had 
decided to seek shelter under the protection of the Governor 
Sir John Berkeley, one of the King's most trusted servants. 
Her health had been failing for some time past. She suffered 
from rheumatic fever, and was so ill on the journey that she 
doubted if she would ever reach Exeter alive. Hefe, how- 
ever, she arrived about the 1st of May, and took up her abode 
at Bedford House, a residence belonging to the Russell 
family, which then occupied the site of Bedford Circus, be- 
tween Southernhay and High Street. So great was the un- 
happy Queen's weakness, and so acute her suffering, that she 



ILLNESS OF THE QUEEN. 3 

had small hopes of surviving her child's birth, and the King, 
alarmed by the accounts of her condition which reached him, 
sent a pressing despatch to his chief physician, Sir Theodore 
Mayerne, begging him to hasten to Exeter without dela)-. 
" Mayerne," he wrote, " for love of me, go to my wife. — C. R." 
This urgent note produced the desired result. Mayerne, 
who was then in London, obeyed the summons, and reached 
Exeter on the 28th of May. About the same time, a French 
nurse, Madame Peronne, who had assisted at the birth of the 
young King Louis XIV. and that of his brother, and who had 
previously attended Henrietta Maria on similar occasions, 
was sent over by Anne of Austria, the Queen Regent of 
France, with a gift of money and clothes for the use of her 
distressed sister-in-law. At length, on the i6th of June, a 
little Princess was born. 

The royal infant, a small and delicate babe, was at once 
given into the charge of Anne Villiers, the wife of Robert 
Douglas, Lord Dalkeith, eldest son of the Earl of Morton. 
This lady, a daughter of Sir Edward Villiers, half-brother of 
George, Duke of Buckingham, and ancestor of the present 
Earl of Jersey, had all the beauty and high spirit of her 
family. From the first she watched over her precious charge 
with the tenderest care, and was soon to give the highest 
proofs of her courage and devotion. The unfortunate Queen 
remained in a very precarious state. " I have seen the 
Queen," wrote M. de Sabran, the French envoy, who had 
hastened to Exeter, in spite of the troubled state of the 
kingdom, to pay his respects on this occasion. " She has 
given birth to a lovely little Princess, but is herself in a state 
of extreme weakness and suffering." To add to Henrietta's 
distress. Lord Essex now advanced against Exeter, and 
threatened to besiege the city. The Queen applied to him 
for a safe-conduct to Bath, but, instead of granting her 
request, the Parliamentary General replied " that if he 
escorted Her Majesty anywhere, it would be to London to 
answer to Parliament for the war." Thus reduced to ex- 
tremity, Henrietta roused herself to take a desperate step. 
Weak and suffering as she was, she determined to make her 
escape from the beleaguered town, resolved that, whatever 



4 FLIGHT OF THE QUEEN. 

risks she might have to run, she would never fall alive into 
the hands of the rebels. 

On the 28th of June, she wrote a touching letter to the 
King, from her bed, informing him of her intention to make 
her way to Falmouth, and there embark for France. She 
knew well the perils to which she would be exposed, but for 
his sake she was ready to dare all. " I will show you," she 
wrote, " by this last action, that there is nothing which lies 
so near my heart as your safety. My life is but a small thing 
compared with that. For, in the present state of affairs, your 
condition would be in great peri! if you came to my relief, 
and I know that your affection would make you risk all for 
my sake. And so I prefer rather to risk this miserable life 
of mine, a thing worthless enough in itself, saving in as far 
as it is precious to you. My dear heart, farewell. The most 
unhappy creature in the world, who can no longer hold a 
pen." The next day Henrietta took a tender farewell of her 
little daughter, and, commending this babe of a fortnight old 
to the care of Sir John Berkeley and Lady Dalkeith, she set 
out on her perilous journey, accompanied only by Sir John 
Winton, her physician-in-ordinary, her Capuchin Confessor 
Father Phillips, and one lady-in-waiting. Three miles from 
Exeter they narrowly escaped falling into the hands of the 
enemy. The Queen was forced to hide in a wretched hut, and 
her companions heard the Parliamentary troopers boast they 
would yet carry the Queen's head to London. But they suc- 
ceeded in passing the enemy's outposts safely, and were soon 
afterwards joined by the other members of the Queen's house- 
hold, among whom were Lord Jermyn and the valiant dwarf, 
Sir Geoffrey Hudson, who had left Exeter by different roads 
to avoid suspicion. Thus attended, the Queen travelled to 
Falmouth, with Sir John Winton walking by the side of her 
litter the whole of the way. On arriving at the royal castle of 
Pendennis, the Queen heard from Lady Dalkeith that the 
infant Princess was suffering from convulsions, and at her 
entreaty, Sir John returned at once to Exeter to attend her. 
After a few days' repose, Henrietta Maria herself embarked on 
board a Dutch vessel that was cruising in the bay, and on the 
14th of July, set sail for hVance. Ikil her adventures were not 



FLIGHT OF THE QUEEN. 5 

yet ended. An English cruiser in the Parhament's service 
gave chase to the Queen's bark, and pursued it hotly as far 
as Jersey. There a shell struck the vessel, and for a short 
time it appeared in danger of being captured. Amid the con- 
sternation of her ladies, Henrietta alone retained her courage, 
and bade the captain blow up the ship, rather than allow her 
to fall into the hands of the rebels. Fortunately, a squadron 
of Dieppe vessels now appeared in sight, and under their 
friendly escort, the Queen's ship pursued its way safely to 
the French coast. Even then, the perils of the voyage were 
not yet over. Henrietta's journeys were proverbially unlucky. 
" Mam's bad fortune at sea " was often the subject of her 
son Charles H.'s merry jests to his sister. A furious gale 
sprang up in the night, scattering the French fleet in all 
directions, and driving the Queen's vessel on the rocks near 
Brest. Here Henrietta and her ladies landed in a small boat 
and took shelter in a fishing village on the coast, where the 
peasants gave them food and lodging. Soon, however, the 
news of the Queen's presence spread through the country, and 
the whole population flocked to welcome the daughter of 
Henri Quatre. Directly the tidings reached Paris, the Queen 
Regent sent carriages and doctors to meet the unhappy fugi- 
tive and received her with the most generous kindness. 

" I am welcomed," Henrietta wrote to her husband, "on all 
sides with such marks of affection as surpass all imagination." 

Meanwhile Charles I., as yet unaware of his wife's flight 
had hastened to her rescue, and fighting his way through the 
Parliament's troops, entered Exeter on the 26th of July. 
With him came the Prince of Wales, who was lodged at the 
Deanery, while the King took up his residence at Bedford 
House. Here he saw his infant daughter for the first time, 
and was moved to tears, when he clasped the unconscious 
babe in his arms and thought of her absent mother. The 
little Princess had suffered from repeated attacks of con- 
vulsions, but, under the care of Sir John Winton and her 
devoted nurse, Lady Dalkeith, she had survived, and good 
hopes of her progress were now entertained. Even before the 
King's arrival, he had sent orders that the child should be 
baptised according to the rites of the Church of England, In 



6 BAPTISM OF THE INFANT PRINCESS. 

obedience with his commands, the christening of the infant 
Princess took place in the Cathedral, on the 21st of July. 

A new font was placed in the nave, and a canopy of state 
erected in honour of the occasion. The Dean of Exeter, Dr 
Lawrence Burnell, officiated, and the Governor, Sir John 
Berkeley, Lady Dalkeith and Lady I'oulett, acted as sponsors. 
The following entry, recording this event, is to be found in 
the registers of the Cathedral, one of the few in England 
which is also a parish church : — 

" Henrietta, daughter of our Soveraigne Lord King 
Charles and our Gracious Queene Mary, was baptised the 
2 1st of July 1644." 

The name of Henrietta was apparently the only one then 
given to the royal infant. That of Anne was afterwards 
added by her mother, out of compliment to the Queen Regent, 
whose generous assistance and kindly forethought had proved 
of such timely help in her hour of need. 

Charles now pursued his victorious march against Essex 
into Cornwall, but in September he again took up his quarters 
at Exeter and spent another week at Bedford House with 
his little daughter. Before his final departure, he assigned the 
excise duties of the city for the support of her household, 
and appointed Dr Thomas Fuller chaplain to the threc-months- 
old Princess. Then he gave her his farewell blessing, and 
left Exeter to renew the campaign. During the following 
twelve months, the West of England remained comparatively 
tranquil, and in August 1645, the Prince of Wales paid his 
little sister a second visit and spent a month at E^xeter. 
Hardly had he taken his departure, than the armies of the 
Parliament, under P^airfax and Waller, once more closed 
round the city. Lady Dalkeith, who had received orders 
from the Queen to remove the Princess, on the first approach 
of danger, made a vain attempt to take her charge to 
Cornwall. But it was too late, Exeter was once more sur- 
rounded by hostile forces, and the little Princess and her 
faithful servants found themselves again exposed to all the 
perils and hardships of a siege. Henrietta Maria, who from 



LADY DALKEITH'S DEFENCE. 7 

her retreat in France, watched the course of events in England 
with the keenest anxiety, was beside herself with grief and 
rage, when she heard of her child's situation. She heaped 
reproaches on Lady Dalkeith's name, and censured her con- 
duct with so much severity, that Sir Edward Hyde took up 
arms in the innocent lady's defence and wrote to Lord Jermyn 
in the following terms : — 

" In reply to your postscript concerning the Princess and 
her governess, I think it will break her heart when she hears 
of the Queen's displeasure ; which, pardon me for saying, is 
with much severity conceived against her. Your motto 
seems to be that an unfortunate friend is as bad as an un- 
faithful. I'll be bold to say, let the success be what it will, 
that the governess is as faultless in the business as you are, 
and hath been as punctual, as solicitous, and as impatient to 
obey the Queen's directions, as she could be to save her 
soul. She could not act her part without assistance ; and 
what assistance could she have? How could she have left 
Exeter, and whither have gone? She had just got the 
Queen's letter, when the Prince was last at Exeter, about 
the end of September ; she showed it me, and asked my 
help ; I durst not communicate, the season being not come 
which was pointed out by the Queen for her remove, which 
was when Exeter should be in danger to be besieged, which 
we had no reason to believe would be before winter was 
over. It was no wonder if they were not forward to leave 
that place till forced, since there they had complete subsist- 
ence, which nobody else had, and which they could not 
expect in any other place in England. No more remained 
to be done but to foresee the danger, and to provide in 
time for her remove. On the enemy's advance, we had 
reason to believe our troops, then little inferior in number, 
would have stopped them awhile, and, moreover, a report 
was just then raised that we were carrying the Prince o( 
Wales to France, which caused fresh disturbance, and at 
Exeter itself, people would have formally protested against 
it, had not the Governor prevented them. In Cornwall, at 
the public sessions, a petition was framed by the judges that 



8 DR. FULLERS TRACTS. 

the Prince should be desired to declare that no adverse 
fortune should drive him out of the kingdom, but it wa.s 
suppressed by Killigrew ; even the servants spoke big and 
vowed what they would do, if the Prince's removal were 
undertaken. Was this the time to remove the Princess ? 
Had it been done, all security for the Prince's safety would 
have passed away. The governess would have procured a 
pass to bring the Princess to Cornwall, had not letters been 
taken at Dartwell, by which the designs of transporting her 
transpired. You have now the whole story, and may con- 
clude the governess could as easily have beaten Fairfax, as 
prevented being shut up in Exeter, from whence I hope 
she will yet get safely with her charge, to whom I am con- 
fident she hath omitted no part of her duty." 

Clarendon's defence of Lady Dalkeith was as manly as 
it was honest, but many months were to elapse before the 
brave lady and her charge were to escape from the be- 
leaguered city. Meanwhile, within the walls of Exeter, Dr 
P'uller spent his time in composing and printing quaint little 
tracts, for the future instruction of his royal pupil. The first 
of these, entitled Good ThoiigJUs in Bad Times, was dedi- 
cated to Lady Dalkeith, in a long epistle which concludes 
with the words : — " But I am tedious, for Your Honour 
can spare no more minutes from looking on a better book, 
her infant Highness, committed to your charge. Was ever 
more hope of worth in a less volume? But O, how excel- 
lently will the same, in due time, be set forth, seeing the 
paper is so pure, and Your Ladyship the overseer to correct 
the press ! " A copy of the book, bound in blue morocco, 
and adorned with the Princess Henrietta's cypher and coronet, 
was solemnly presented to the royal child, who received it, 
in the arms of Lady Dalkeith, at an audience to which Dr 
P'uller and the loyal ladies of the besieged city were admitted. 
The book, it is interesting to learn, was carefully preserved 
by the Princess, and although she did not long remain a 
member of the Anglican Church, she valued her kind old 
tutor's gift, and inscribed several passages in her own writing, 
on the title-page. 



SURRENDER OF EXETER. 9 

As the winter months wore on, food became scarce; and 
the inhabitants of Exeter were beginning to suffer from 
starvation, when, one day, a sudden flight of larks poured 
into the town, "an arrival," writes good Dr Fuller, "as 
welcome as quails in the wilderness." So plentiful was the 
supply that they sold for twopence a dozen, " and of this 
miraculous event," the divine adds : " I was not only an eye 
but a mouth witness." But the blockade continued, and the 
larks came no more. At length Sir John Berkeley, finding 
himself and his gallant comrades reduced to starvation, was 
compelled to surrender. On the 13th of April, the garrison 
marched out with the honours of war, and Sir John Berkeley 
himself escorted Lady Dalkeith and the Princess Henrietta 
to Salisbur}^ The Merairius Civicus of April 23rd records, 
amongst other items of news from Exeter, that the Princess 
Henrietta, " the last of the royal offspring, but the first that 
was in any town, when it stooped to the obedience of the 
Parliament, came out with her governess, upon the entering 
of our force, and we hear, is gone with Sir John Berkeley 
to Oxford." 

So the youthful Princess left her native town. She was 
never there again, but the loyal capital of the West treasured 
her memory fondly, and after Henrietta's death, Charles H., 
who never forgot that his sister was " an Exeter woman," pre- 
sented the faithful city with a beautiful portrait of her by Sir 
Peter Lely. This picture, which represents Madame in the 
bloom of her lovely womanhood, still hangs in the Guildhall 
of Exeter, a precious memorial of her connection with the old 
Devon town. 

By the terms of Sir John Berkeley's surrender, it had 
been expressly agreed that the Princess and her household, 
together with all her plate, money and goods, should be 
allowed to proceed to any place in the kingdom which her 
guardian might choose, and that a sum for their maintenance 
should be allowed by Parliament, until the King's pleasure 
as to the disposal of his child could be ascertained. Lady 
Dalkeith accordingly communicated with the King, and on 
the 1 8th of April, forwarded his decision to Sir Thomas 
Fairfax. 



10 THE PRINCESS AT OATLANDS. 

"I have prevailed with Mr Ashburnham," she wrote, " to 
acquaint you that I have His Majesty's allowance to remain, 
with the Princess, for some time about London, in any of His 
Majesty's houses. I have judged Richmond the fittest. This 
bearer will inform you of those j)articulars concerning the 
settlement of the Princess in that place, wherein I conceive 
your assistance and recommendation to the Parliament to be 
necessary, which His Majesty will acknowledge as a service, 
and I as an obligation to, Sir, your humble servant, 

" A. Dalkeith." 

Fairfax promptly forwarded this note to the Speaker 
Lenthall, begging that the honourable House might make its 
pleasure concerning the same known by the bearer, who was 
appointed to meet Lady Dalkeith at Salisbury on the follow- 
ing Thursday. But it proved to be the pleasure of Parlia- 
ment that the Princess and her servants should be conducted, 
not to Richmond, but to Oatlands, where they all lived for 
the next three months, at Lady Dalkeith's expense. In vain 
this courageous lady addressed repeated applications to the 
Speakers of both Houses, to Sir Thomas Fairfax and to the 
Parliamentary Committee for the County of Surrey, then 
sitting at Kingston, begging that the allowance promised for 
the Princess's support might be paid. No notice whatever 
was taken of her request until the 24th of May, when, to her 
dismay, she received a message from the House of Commons, 
ordering that the Princess Henrietta should be brought up to 
London and placed with her brother and sister, the young 
Duke of Gloucester and the Princess Elizabeth, at St.-James's 
Palace, in the charge of Lady Northumberland, and that the 
whole of her present retinue should be dismissed. But Lady 
Dalkeith was determined never to, part from the child until 
she could deliver her safely into the hands of her royal 
parents, and, nothing daunted, she addressed a spirited re- 
monstrance to the Speakers of both Houses. The original 
of her letter to the House of Lords may still be seen in the 
Bodleian Library, and is as follows : — 

" My Lord, — Presently upon the surrender of Exeter, 



LADY DALKEITH'S PETITION. II 

while the Princess Henrietta, under my care, was on her way 
towards these parts, I presented your Lordship my humble 
desires to the Parliament, concerning the settlement of Her 
Highness with such allowance as to them should seem ex- 
pedient, since which time, there having been nothing therein 
determined, I have been necessitated to renew those desires. 
I am not now so hopeful as I was, yet once more entreat 
that the honourable Houses would be pleased to consider 
that I received this trust from his Majesty ; that I have his 
injunction, as will appear by this letter I have sent inclosed 
to your Lordship, not to leave the Princess, and that, by the 
article of Exeler which concerns Her Highness, you may also 
perceive she is to be disposed of, according to His Majesty's 
directions ; that I have preserved Her Highness, not without 
many cares and fears, from a weak to a very hopeful con- 
ditioti of health, that I am best acquainted with her condition 
and constitution, that my coming into these parts was volun- 
tary, that I have disbursed a great sum of money for the 
support of Her Highness and her family, since the treaty at 
Exeter, that I have, because the time is very precious in the 
condition I am in, endeavoured to anticipate all possible 
obstructions, which, I humbly conceive, did either arise from 
the charge or inconvenience of dividing the King's children 
into two families, or that they had not full confidence in me, 
or that there is some other exception to my person. ' To all 
which, I did humbly answer that I did cheerfully consent to 
remain with Her Highness at St.-James's, and to be sub- 
ordinate to my Lord and Lady of Northumberland, and, from 
time to time, receive and follow their directions concerning 
the Princess, and to be continued no longer than, after the 
severest reflection upon my deportment, I shall appear with- 
out the least exception. All my desire is now to be con- 
tinued about her person, quitting all power, without being 
any kind of burden to the Parliament, or inconvenience to my 
Lord and Lady of Northumberland, resolving to bring such 
an obedience as I hope shall make me acceptable. And I do 
very humbly conceive I have not at any time deserved ill of 
the Parliament, which does often make me hope this request 
will be granted, without which I am ruined, my interest and 



12 ESCAPE OF LADY DALKEITH AND THE PRINCESS. 

inclination being both in this service. But if this be not satis- 
factory, I have only these requests, that I may be reimbursed 
the money I have laid out during my attendance and expec- 
tation of the Parliament's pleasure, and that I may have a pass 
to send one to his Majesty to know his pleasure, without 
which, in honour and honesty, I cannot deliver up his child. 
And in the meantime (which cannot be long) I most humbly 
entreat there may be a present order for a weekly allowance 
for Her Highness and her family, which will enable me with 
more patience to expect the reimbursement of my money. 
Having nothing more but my earnest and humble instance 
to have these communicated to both the honourable Houses, 
if it be thought fit, I do most humbly entreat it may be by 
a conference and a speedy signification of the Parliament's 
pleasure. — I remain, my Lord, your Lordship's humble 
servant, 

" A. Dalkeith. 

"Oatlands, the i'&t]i June 1646." 

Another month passed and still no answer came. Then 
Lady Dalkeith, fearing to see the child torn from her arms, 
resolved to carry her off, out of the reach of the Parliament. 
She disguised herself in a shabby cloak and gown, placed a 
hump of old rags on one shoulder to conceal her graceful 
figure, and, dressing the little Princess in a ragged suit of boy's 
clothes, walked to Dover with the child on her back. None 
of the household at Oatlands were in the secret, excepting 
two servants named Lambert and Dyke, and a French valet 
who passed as Lady Dalkeith's husband. The only risk of 
detection lay in the angry exclamations of the little Princess 
herself, who resented the shabby dress she wore as much as 
the name of Pierre, which had been given her for the time, 
and told everyone they met on the road that she was not 
Pierre, but the Princess, and that these rags were not her 
real clothes. Fortunately her baby language did not arouse 
suspicion, and Sir John Berkeley, who, following at some 
distance, kept his eye on the travellers all the way, saw them 
safely on board the French boat for Calais. Great was the 
alarm at Oatlands when, on Friday, July the 25th, both Lady 



ESCAPE OF LADY DALKEITH AND THE PRINCESS. 1 3 

Dalkeith and the Princess were found to be missing, but a 
few hours later the fears of the household were set at rest by 
the arrival of the following letter from her ladyship : — 

" Gentlewomen, — You are witness with what patience I 
have expected the pleasure of the Parliament. I have found 
it impossible to obtain any justice to Her Highness or favour 
to myself, or any of you. I was no longer able to keep her, 
which was the cause I have been forced to take this upon me. 
Be pleased to repair to His Majesty, all of you, or as many of 
you as think fit. I then am sure you will enjoy the blessing 
of serving Her Highness, which, believe me, is heartily wished 
by me. It will be a great mark of your faithfulness and 
kindness to your mistress, to conceal her being gone as long 
as you can, and it will make your past service more con- 
sidered, and that to come more acceptable. And, trust me, 
your divulging of it will be of no advantage to you. Thus 
you may do it, seeming to expect her the day following after 
the receipt of this letter, and then come to deliver this other 
to Mr Marshall, after you have read it, and tell him — which is 
truth — that I have removed Her Highness to a better air, 
whither you may, if you will, follow her. All her wearing 
clothes, woollen or linen, you may distribute amongst you ; 
the little plate she hath, Mr Case will have a care of, her other 
things are to be continued with Mr Marshall. I am so con- 
fident you will behave yourselves kindly and faithfully to your 
mistress, that you may yet more oblige me to be, what you 
shall always find me, which is to you all, a very hearty, kind 
friend, A. Dalkeith. 

*' For her Hig/i7iess the Princess Henrietta^ 
her gentlewomen." 

The members of the household obeyed these orders im- 
plicitly, and the Parliament did not receive news of the 
Princess's flight for three days after her departure. By that 
time, Lady Dalkeith and her precious charge had reached 
France safely. The joyful news was quickly borne to Paris. 
Carriages were sent to m^et Lady Dalkeith at Calais, and 
the little Princess, once more clad in her own clothes, 
was at length restored to her mother's arms. The 



14 waller's ode. 

Queen wept tears of joy, as she once more clasped her 
long-lost child in her embrace, and kissed her again and again. 
Lady Dalkeith, herself worn out with fatigue and anxiety, and 
exhausted with her long journey on foot, fell seriously ill on her 
arrival at Saint-Germain, where the Queen was then residing. 
On her recovery she found herself quite a heroine. Her name 
was on every lip, her adventures became the theme of every 
cavalier, at the Court of the exiled Queen. The King, who 
had never heard of his little daughter's flight, until the news 
reached him from Paris, warmly expressed his deep sense of 
gratitude to her brave deliverer, in his letters to Jermyn and 
Culpepper. And Sir Richard Browne, John Evelyn's father- 
in-law, who was at that time the English Ambassador in Paris, 
writing home on the 17th of August, remarks : — 

" I was yesterday at St. Germain, to kiss the sweet little 
Princess Henrietta's hands ; the manner of the Lady Dal- 
keith's bringing Her Highness away from Oatlands, is a pretty 
romance." 

In later years, this romantic episode was celebrated both in 
prose and verse. It supplied the poet Waller with a subject 
for a New Year's Ode, which he addressed, in 1650, " To my 
Lady Morton, at the Louvre in Paris." By the death of her 
father-in-law. Lady Dalkeith had lately become Countess of 
Morton, and after congratulating her on these new honours, 

" To the fair Vllliers we Dalkeith prefer, 
And fairest Morton now as much as her," 

he compares her exploits in turn with those of Judith in slaying 
Holofernes, and of Venus in saving ^neas from the flames 
of Troy. He recalls the adventures of her flight, and the dis- 
guise which she had assumed with so much success : — 

" Where the kind nymph, changing her faultless shape, 
Becomes unhandsome handsomely to 'scape, 
When, through the guards, the river and the sea, 
Faith, beauty, wit and courage made their way." 

And he winds up with a graceful compliment to the youthful 
Princess, for whose sake she had dared such perils by land 
and sea. 



bossuet's oraisoa'. is 

" Born in the storms of war, this royal fair, 
Produced like lightning in temptestuous air, 
Though now she flies her native isle, less kind, 
Less safe for her, than either sea or wind, 
Shall, when the blossom of her beauty's shown, 
See her great brother on the British throne, 
Where peace shall smile, and no dispute arise, 
But which rules most, his sceptre or her eyes." 

Twenty years afterwards, when Bossuet pronounced his 
famous Oraison fiinebre over the widowed Queen of England, 
in the presence of her daughter Henrietta and her husband, 
the Duke of Orleans, he recalled this incident of Madame's 
childhood, in a well-known passage of his discourse. 

" Princess, whose future destiny is to be so great and 
glorious ! Must you be born in the power of the enemies of 
your race ? Eternal God ! watch over her ! Holy angels, 
surround her with your unseen squadrons, and guard this illus- 
trious and forsaken child. God did protect her, messieurs ! 
Her governess, two years afterwards, saved her precious 
charge from the hands of the rebels, and although conscious 
of her own greatness, the child revealed herself, and refusing 
all other names, insisted on calling herself the Princess, she 
was safely borne to the arms of her royal mother, to be her 
consolation in misfortune, and to become the happ}^ spouse of 
a great prince, and the joy of all France." 

Two curious entries, in the domestic State papers of Charles 
H.'s reign, are interesting, as giving us the names of the faithful 
servants who assisted Lady Dalkeith in her escape, and after- 
wards suffered for their loyalty. The first, dated September 
1663, is the petition of Ehnor Dyke for arrears of wages due 
to her for six years service, £2^. board Avages at Exeter, and 
£"] for silver laced shoes for Princess Henrietta, "whom she 
attended into France, losing thereby her house and furniture 
for fifteen rooms, and now her pension of £^0 is stopped, so 
that she has nothing left, and is beholden to the Countess of 
Berkshire for a house to live in." The second belongs to the 
year 1666, and is as follows: — "Thomas Lambert and Mary 
his wife, petition for the customs on 2000 pieces of Holland 
linen, to enable them to drive a trade in their old age. Were 



l6 THE PRINCESS'S SERVANTS. 

obliged to save their lives by leaving the country six years, 
for their diligence in convoying the Princess Henrietta, from 
her barbarous enemies to the Queen-mother in France, are 
injured by searches in their millinery ware and lace for French 
commodities." 



CHAPTER II 
1646 — 1655. 

Wars of the Fronde — The Royal Exiles in Paris — Death of Charles I. — The Prin- 
cess Henrietta brought up a Roman Catholic — Attack on the Duke of 
Gloucester's Religion. 

The first scene in the chequered drama of the Princess Hen- 
rietta's hfe had ended happily. The storm-clouds which 
threatened to burst on the royal infant's head, had been for- 
tunately averted, but on the friendly shore where she had 
found shelter, there were still dangers and hardships enough 
in store for her. 

Nothing could exceed the warmth of the reception which 
the English Queen had met with in her native land, or the 
generous kindness with which she had been welcomed by her 
sister-in-law, the Queen Regent of France. Wherever she 
went she was treated with royal honours. The people of the 
towns through which she passed, received her with acclamations 
as a daughter of France, the Queen Regent and the young 
King I^ouis met her at the gates of Paris, and brought her to 
the Louvre in their state coaches. A pension of thirty thou- 
sand Hvres a month was granted her, and she was given rooms 
in the Louvre and allowed the use of the palace of Saint-Germain 
as a country residence. For some time she retained all the 
state of a crowned head, kept up a large household of ladies 
and gentlemen-in-waiting, and drove about in splendid equip- 
ages, attended by guards and running footmen. But little by 
little, observes her niece, Mademoiselle de Montpensier, this 
pomp diminished, until at length it disappeared altogether. 
All the money she could spare was sent to her husband, and be- 
fore long, all the plate and jewels she possessed were sold to 

B 



1 8 COURT OF THE EXILED QUEEN. 

supply him with funds. In these early days of her exile, her 
Court became the meeting place of those banished cavaliers 
who had lost all for the King's cause. The Prince of Wales 
had joined his mother in September 1646, and both Prince 
Rupert and Lord Newcastle came to Paris, after their defeat 
at Marston Moor. There, too, the poets and men of letters, 
who had sung the praises of the Queen in happier days, now 
sought shelter. There came Cowley and Denham, and the 
fickle Waller, when he, too, had been driven into exile, for 
plotting against his party. Others, such as Wilmot and 
Henry Percy, Davenant and Culpepper, went to and fro 
between France and England, hatching fresh schemes against 
the Parliament, and carrying on an active intercourse between 
the King and his exiled Queen. Henrietta Maria received 
them all graciously, and had a smile and kind word for each. 
In spite of the havoc which time and trouble had wrought 
with her beauty, and the sad change which old friends, such 
as Madame de Motteville saw in her once fair face, she still 
k-ept much of her old charm. In her saddest moments, when 
the tears were running down her cheeks at the thought of her 
troubles, she would recall some amusing incident of her 
adventures, and would make others laugh by her wit and 
lively descriptions. She loved to tell her niece, Mademoiselle, 
of the happy days which she had spent in England, and dwelt 
on the beauty of the country and the splendour of her Court 
at Whitehall. 

At that time, the idea of a marriage between the young 
Prince of Wales and, his cousin, Mademoiselle, was already 
entertained. This Princess, the only child of Henrietta 
Maria's younger brother, Gaston, Duke of Orleans, by his 
first marriage with Mademoiselle de Montpensier, had in- 
herited the vast estates of the House of Guise from her 
mother, and was the richest heiress in Europe. The pride 
she felt in her rank and position, was further increased by the 
consciousness of her youthful charms. In the Memoirs written 
in her old age, she dwells with complacency on her fine figure, 
dazzling complexion and fair hair, on the magnificence of 
her attire, and the compliments that were paid her on all 
sides. She had a sincere liking for her aunt of I'Ingland, 



CHARLES II. AND MADEMOISELLE. 19 

" that poor lad}' who has no joy left her on earth," and was 
well pleased to accept the attentions of her young cousin, but 
had not the slightest intention of marrying him in his present 
forlorn condition. She describes Charles, then a boy of 
sixteen, as tall for his age, with a fine figure, dark complexion 
and a beautiful black head of hair. He knew very little French 
and had to employ Prince Rupert as an interpreter, so he 
could not make many fine speeches, but Mademoiselle allowed 
him to wear her colours of red, black and white, to sit on a 
stool at her feet at the theatre, hand her to her coach, and 
even hold a flambeau at her toilette. " Since, at that time, 
however, I thought of marrying the Emperor," she remarks, 
" I looked on the Prince of Wales merely as an object of 
pity." 

But Charles left Paris to take command of the Royalist 
fleet, and the cabals and tumultuous scenes of the Fronde 
filled Mademoiselle's head with other schemes. Meanwhile, 
Henrietta Maria's position became every day more painful. 
Her husband was a prisoner in his own palace, and she was 
full of anxiety for her absent children. Her money was all 
spent, her plate and jewels had been sold, partly to supply 
the King, partly to help the exiled cavaliers, many of whom 
were reduced to the verge of starvation. Her son's servants 
came to her for their wages, and she was forced to dismiss 
her own, for want of money. Madame de Motteville, who 
paid her a visit at the Louvre, on the 14th of July 1648, found 
her in sore straits for lack of funds, and was filled with 
compassion when the Queen showed her a little gold cup, 
out of which she drank, and told her that this was the only 
coin which she possessed in the world. The French Royal 
Family were hardly in a better plight, for the flames of 
civil war had spread to their own land, and early in January 
the Queen Regent and lier son left the Louvre secretly and 
retired to Saint-Germain, where they fortified themselves in the 
old chateau, while the troops laid siege to Paris. Their 
Majesties were in want of everything. Mademoiselle de- 
scribes the hardships to which the Court was reduced. 
" Those who had beds had no hangings, and those who had 
hangings were without clothes." And Anne of Austria, hear- 



20 THE FRONDE. 

ing of the Queen of England's destitute condition, sent her 
word how gladly she would have relieved her, but that 
" neither she nor the King had a single sou, and that she 
knew not where to obtain either a dinner or a gown." Well 
might Madame de Motteville remark : " In that year a terrible 
star reigned against kings." Henrietta remained shut up 
in the vast precincts of the Louvre, during the most tumultu- 
ous weeks of the Fronde, unmoved by the fighting that went 
on in the barricaded streets, and the slaughter that took place 
at her doors. And with her was her little daughter, who, 
for the second time in her short life, now experienced the 
horrors of a siege. The Queen's own thoughts were too 
much absorbed in the terrible scenes then passing in England, 
to reck of the riots and bloodshed outside. It was from the 
Louvre, on the 6th of January, at the very hottest moment 
of the struggle between the contending parties, that she 
addressed the letters to the Parliament, asking leave to 
come to London to see the King, her husband, before his 
trial. But the House of Commons refused to receive her 
petition, on the plea that she had been already voted guilty 
of high treason, and since no couriers were now allowed to 
enter Paris, the Queen remained for some time without 
further news from England. 

The same week that she sent her last appeal to the Parlia- 
ment, the Cardinal de Retz, who was then all-powerful in 
Paris, paid a visit to the Louvre, to inquire how the Queen 
fared, in the midst of the strife raging around her. It was a 
bitter winter's day, and the snow was falling fast. But he 
found Her Majesty of England sitting by the bedside of her 
little daughter. There was no fire in the room, and not a 
stick in the house, for it was six months since she had re- 
ceived her pension, and the tradespeople had refused to supply 
her. " You see," said the Queen, cheerfully, " I am keeping 
my Henrietta company, since we have no fire, and the poor 
child could not rise to-day." " You will do me the justice 
to believe," wrote the Cardinal to a friend, "that Madame 
d'Angleterre did not stay in bed the next day, for want 
of a faggot." He described the scene that he had wit- 
nessed to the Parliament of Paris, and pleaded the cause 



CHARLES I. BEHEADED. 21 

of the royal exiles so eloquently, that 40,000 livres were at 
once sent to Henrietta Maria, for her present use. " Posterity," 
the Cardinal remarks in his Memoirs, " will hardly believe 
that a Queen of England and a grand-daughter of Henri 
Quatre wanted firewood in the month of January, in the 
Louvre." 

But worse sorrows were in store for the unhappy Queen. 
Rumours of the King's trial reached the members of her 
household early in February, but for some time his wife 
remained in ignorance of the terrible truth. She often 
expressed her confidence in the loyalty of the English nation, 
and spoke so hopefully of the King's release from captivit)^, 
that no one dared to undeceive her. At length, on the i8th 
of February, she sent a gentleman of her household to Saint- 
Germain, to endeavour to obtain tidings from England, 
Then Lord Jermyn broke the news to her. For some time 
she remained speechless, and those about her feared she 
would lose her reason. " Neither our words, nor yet our tears 
could rouse her from her stupor," writes her chaplain, Pere 
Cyprien de Gamaches. " Curoe leves loquuntur, graves 
stupent." In that hour of agony, the little Princess Henrietta, 
he tells us, was the widowed Queen's only comfort, and the 
child's unconscious prattle did more to soothe her anguish 
than all other attempts at consolation. For her sake alone, 
did the Queen consent to remain in the world, and give up 
the intention, which she had at first announced, of spending 
the rest of her life in the Carmelite convent of the Faubourg 
Saint-Jacques. As it was, she retired there for several weeks, 
leaving her little daughter to the care of Lady Morton and 
Father Cyprian, who looked on the petite princesse as his own 
especial charge. From that day, Henrietta wore widow's 
mourning, and called herself La reine vialheurettse, a name 
which she frequently used in signing her letters. 

" She has often told me since," says Madame de Motteville, 
" that she wondered how she had been able to survive such a 
blow. She knew that life had nothing left to give her. She 
had lost not only a crown, but a husband and friend, whose 
loss she could never regret enough — good, just and wise, 
worthy of her love and of that of his subjects." 



22 WORCESTER AND DUNBAR. 

The same lady reports how, the very day after receiving- 
the fatal news, the Queen bade her tell her mistress, the 
Queen Regent of France, that her lord the King had lost his 
life, because he had never been allowed to know the truth, 
and that she conjured her, by her love for her native land, to 
listen to those who told her the real state of things, before it 
was too late. 

The Prince of Wales, who had been already recognised 
as King of England by the States-General, now joined his 
mother, and accompanied her to Saint-Germain, where she 
went in July, at the earnest request of Anne of Austria. The 
journey was not without its perils, and Evelyn describes how 
a mob of angry creditors surrounded the carriage in which 
the Queen and her little daughter sat, and how the young 
King, in deep mourning, rode by the side, with one hand on 
the door of the coach, to protect her from the insults of the 
populace. By the end of the month, however, some degree of 
tranquillity was restored, and the young King of France was 
able to return to Paris, where his first act was to pay a visit 
of condolence to his aunt. Charles II. was now received 
with royal honours at the Court, and showed a true spark of 
kingly feeling when, in spite of his mother's prayers and tears, 
he determined to make another effort to recover his crown. 
" Better to die in such an enterprise," he replied, " than to 
wear away life in shameful indolence." So he left Paris for 
Jersey, where he was proclaimed King by the loyal islanders, 
and, in the following May, landed in Scotland, to conduct the 
expedition which ended in the disastrous defeats of Dunbar 
and Worcester. That year proved a sadder one than ever for 
the widowed Queen. In September 1650 she received the 
news of her daughter Elizabeth's death at Carisbrook Castle, 
and two months later, her son-in-law, the Prince of Orange, 
died of smallpox at the Hague, leaving her eldest daughter, 
the Princess Royal, a widow at the age of nineteen. A week 
afterwards, this Princess gave birth to a son, who was one day 
to ascend her father's throne, and reign over Great Britain as 
King William III. The death of the Prince of Orange was a 
serious loss to the English royal family. Both the young 
King and the Duke of York had found a hospitable welcome 



CHARLES II. IN FRANCE. 23 

at his Court in all their wanderings, and had been generously 
supplied with money and arms for their campaigns. Now 
his young widow was left alone to maintain the rights of her 
orphan boy against a rival faction, closely allied with the 
leaders of the military despotism in England, who had 
doomed her father to death. 

And now, to add to Henrietta's sorrows, came the failure 

of Charles II.'s expedition and her anxiety on his account. 

News of his defeat at Worcester reached her, and for some 

time, she did not know if her son were alive or dead. " All 

the world," writes her niece. Mademoiselle, " went to console 

the Queen of England, but this only increased her grief, for 

she did not know if her son had been slain, or made a 

prisoner." The sudden arrival of the King, and the romantic 

story of his escape, had the effect of softening this haughty 

lady's heart, and she owns that her cousin's appearance and 

conversation impressed her favourably. His black curls had 

been cut off to complete his disguise, but his presence was 

manly and majestic, and he spoke French with ease. She 

hastened to congratulate him on his return, and as he led her 

back through the gallery that connects the Louvre and the 

Tuileries, he gave her an amusing account of his adventures 

after Worcester, of his concealment in the oak of Boscobel, 

and his escape to the coast. But what struck her fancy most, 

was the picture which he drew of the miserable life that he 

had led in Scotland, where he vowed there was not a single 

woman to be seen, and where the men were such barbarians 

that they actually held it sinful to play on the violin. " No 

wonder," she exclaims, " the poor King was glad to find 

himself again in a civilised country." 

After that first meeting, Charles was a frequent visitor 
at the Tuileries, where Mademoiselle held receptions, and 
danced with her English cousin, to the music of her famous 
violins. She lent a willing ear to his soft speeches, and was 
well content to have this royal lover at her beck and call, 
but when Charles made her serious proposals of marriage, she 
rejected them with scorn. Her latest ambition was to become 
the wife of her cousin, King Louis XIV., and she replied that 
no one could expect her to stoop to a monarch who was one 



24 LOUIS XIV. RETURNS TO PARIS. 

only in name, when she might at any moment become Queen 
of France. So she preferred to play the part of heroine in the 
Fronde, and to join the Prince of Cond^ and his peers in their 
revolt against the influence of the hated Cardinal. She held 
Orleans against the royal forces, and appeared on horseback 
with her ladies at the head of the troops. Then she returned 
to Paris, to enjoy her well-earned laurels, and be hailed with 
acclamations, by princes and people, as a new Joan of Arc. 

" You are indeed another Pucelle," said the Queen of 
England to her niece. " First you drove out the English, and 
then you rescued Orleans." The sarcasm was by no means 
displeasing to Mademoiselle, who liked above all to find her- 
self a person of importance. But her triumph was of brief 
duration. " Corpo di bacco ! " the Cardinal exclaimed, when he 
heard that Mademoiselle had ordered the guns of the Bastille 
to fire on the King's troops. " That cannon-shell has killed 
her husband." He was right. Neither Louis XIV. nor his 
mother ever forgave the insult, and when the Court returned 
to Paris, Mademoiselle was politely desired to vacate the 
Tuileries and retire to her chateau at Saint- Fargeau. 

Meanwhile, Queen Henrietta and her son had refrained 
from joining either party, " with more prudence," Mademoiselle 
observes, " than we should ever have shown." On her part, she 
was violent in denouncing both their Majesties of England for 
refusing to take her side. The Queen, on the contrary, em- 
ployed all the influence she had with her brother Gaston, the 
Prince of Cond^, and his sister, the Duchess of Longueville, to 
effect a reconciliation between them and the Queen-mother, 
and was sincerely rejoiced when the civil war was at length 
brought to a close. On the 21st of October 1652, the young 
King Louis, now fourteen years of age, made his entry into 
Paris, riding at the head of his guards, and his manly presence 
won the hearts of the fickle populace, who welcomed him with 
shouts of joy. 

His first act was to recall the proscribed Cardinal, who 
returned without delay, and once more took up the reins 
of government, which he held undisturbed until his death. 
Mazarin, however, was too wily a politician to lend his support 
to the English monarch, and shortly after his return to power, 



CONVENT OF CHAILLOT. 2$ 

he publicly recognised Cromwell as Lord Protector, and sent 
an envoy to negotiate terms of peace with him. The blow 
was a heavy one to Queen Henrietta, who saw in this step an 
insult to her husband's memory, and the ruin of the hopes 
which she had hitherto cherished of her son's restoration. 
" Since my great trouble," she wrote to the Duke of York at 
the Hague, "I have felt nothing equal to this. God take us 
under His protection and give us patience to wait His time." 

Anne of Austria, on her part, did her utmost to alleviate 
the sadness of her sister-in-law's position. She increased her 
pension, and insisted on her leaving the Louvre, to come and 
occupy a suite of rooms in the Palais-Royal, where she and 
her sons had now fixed their abode. Henrietta complied with 
her request, although she preferred the quiet of the Louvre, 
and resolved to find a spot, where she could retire at her 
pleasure. The nuns of Port-Royal invited her to take up her 
abode at their convent, in the Rue Saint-Jacques, but Henri- 
etta preferred to found an independent community of her own. 
For this purpose, with the help of the Queen Regent, she 
bought a house on the heights of Chaillot, which had been 
originally built by Catherine de Medicis and granted by Henri 
Quatre to the Marechal de Bassompierre. Here she invited 
ten or twelve nuns from the convent of the Filles de Marie, 
near the Bastille, to take up their residence, and obtained 
letters-patent from Anne of Austria constituting the house a 
royal foundation, under the protection of the Queen of England. 
This convent, which occupied the site of the present Trocad^ro, 
and was destined to be intimately associated with several 
generations of Stuarts, now became Henrietta's favourite 
retreat. She retained a suite of rooms overlooking the Seine, 
and commanding a noble view of Paris, for her own use, and 
often retired there, with her ladies, for several weeks at a time. 
Here the Queen Regent also came to spend days of prayer and 
meditation, in her sister-in-law's company. Her example was 
soon followed by the Princesses and other ladies of rank, and 
Louise de La Fayette, once the object of Louis XHI.'s 
adoration, but now known as the Mere Angelique, became 
abbess of the new community. Here too, the Queen of 
England often brought her little daughter Henrietta. From 



26 FATHER CYl'RIAN AND LADY MORTON. 

the moment of her birth, she had secretly vowed that this 
•' enfant de b^ncdictio7il' as she loved to call her, should be bred 
in the faith of her own Church. Accordingly, she had early 
entrusted her religious education to her French chaplain, P^re 
Cyprien de Gamaches, to whose Memoirs wc owe the few 
details we possess of Henrietta's early years. " As soon as 
the first sparks of reason began to 'glimmer in the mind of 
that precious child/" writes the old father, "the Queen 
honoured me with the command to instruct her, and took 
the trouble herself to bring her to the chapel of the Louvre, 
where I taught children the Christian doctrine ! " Lady Morton 
was always present at these instructions, and one day told the 
little Princess, laughingly, " I think Father Cyprian's catechis- 
ing is intended as much for my benefit, as for that of your 
Royal Highness." The Princess, who already. Father Cyprian 
tells us, showed signs of a remarkably quick intelligence, re- 
peated the remark to her mother, who said, " My dear child, 
as you are so devout yourself, why do you not try to convert 
your governess ? " " Madame," replied the eager child, " I do 
my best. I embrace her, I clasp my arms round her neck, 1 
say to her, ' Do be converted, Lady Morton. Father Cyprian 
says you must be a Catholic to be saved. You have heard 
him as well as I have. Do be a Catholic, ma bonne dame, and 
I will love you still more dearly ! ' " 

But in spite of Father Cyprian's arguments, and the 
Princess's still more persuasive caresses, Lady Morton re- 
sisted all endeavours to shake her faith, and remained a 
staunch Protestant. After her husband's death, in 165 1, she 
obtained leave from the Queen to go to England, where the 
interests of her children required her presence. There she 
died,. three years later, of a sudden attack of fever, without 
seeing her little Princess again. 

Meanwhile, a report reached the Hague, that the Queen 
intended to make her daughter a Catholic, and excited great 
imeasiness in the minds of the Princess of Orange and of the 
English refugees at her Court. Charles \\. himself was con- 
siderably disturbed, and on his return to France, in 1651, he 
took the first opportunity of remonstrating with his mother, 
for acting in a manner thus contrar)' to his father's tlying 



PRINCESS HENRIETTA BROUGHT UP A ROMAN CATHOLIC. 2/ 

wishes. The Queen resented this interference passionatel)', 
and Cliarles tried to shift the unpleasant task on Chancellor 
Hyde, who spoke freely to his mistress, and pointed out the 
evil it would do her son's cause, and the " irrecoverable ruin " 
it would be to the Princess herself, in the eyes of all England. 
Upon this, the Queen urged, not without reason, the exist- 
ence of the clause in her own marriage treaty, which provided 
that all her children should be brought up under her care, till 
their thirteenth year. This clause had been broken in regard 
to her other children, but the late King, she insisted, had 
promised her faithfully, that it should be observed in the case 
of this her youngest child. She further contended that, far 
from being injurious to the Princess's future, her education in 
the Catholic faith would prove of the greatest possible advan- 
tage to her future establishment, and spoke with so much 
passion and resolution, that Clarendon gave up his attempt as 
useless, and contented himself with obtaining a promise that 
the Princess should not be put into a nunnery. After this, 
the Chancellor advised his master to take no further steps in 
the matter at present, and pointed out that, for the next three 
or four years, his sister would be capable of understanding but 
little of religion, and that, by the end of that time, he might 
find himself better able to take her under his own care. 
Clarendon was afterwards blamed for giving his master this 
advice, but it is difificult to see what else could be done under 
the circumstances. " I could not give better counsel," he wrote 
to Sir Edward Nicholas, the King's secretary, "or I would. 
Not that I was satisfied with the resolution, or will not do all 
in my power to alter it, by any way under heaven ; yet, if by 
that time, the King have any place to put her in, it will easily 
be done ; if not, I know not what to say to it. Since I could 
never be suspected of kindness to that religion, and in that 
particular of your mistress, I think I did more than any other 
body, and I advised to have had somewhat done, when ma}- 
be, it was seasonable enough, but I confess, when I spoke 
with the Queen and saw her passion and resolution in it, I 
could not advise the King what he could do, to remed)- it, and 
then the less was spoken of it, for the present, I thought the 
best, till he might be able to do somewhat, which at present 



28 PRINCESS HENRIETTA'S EDUCATION. 

he could not. Tell me, I pray you, what could the King have 
possibly done in that business, if the Queen had been willing 
to have delivered her to him ? " 

These arguments were unanswerable. The exiled King 
had neither house nor home to offer his sister, and she 
depended for her bread on the French Queen Regent, who 
was a still more bigoted Roman Catholic than Henrietta 
Maria herself Even the Duchess of Savoy, the Queen's 
elder sister, wrote to implore her to educate her daughter 
in the true faith ; and to satisfy her relatives' anxiety 
on this point, Henrietta Maria caused Father Cyprian to 
publish the manual of instruction which he had drawn up for 
the Princess's use, and thus show the world that the child was 
brought up in the Holy Catholic Apostolic and Roman 
Church. A handsome copy of this book, bound in red leather 
and bearing the initials " H.A." stamped in gold on the cover, 
may be seen in the British Museum. 

Unfortunately for the peace of the English royal family, 
Father Phillips, who had for many years held the post of 
Confessor to the Queen, died at the close of 1652, and was 
succeeded by Walter Montagu, Abbot of Pontoise. This 
ecclesiastic, a brother of the Earl of Manchester, had been 
won over by the Jesuits to the Roman Church during a visit 
to Paris, some years before, and had all the fiery zeal of a 
recent convert. He at once induced the two Queens to put a 
stop to the Anglican services which had been held by Dr 
Cosin, the exiled Bishop of Durham, in a hall of the Louvre, 
during Henrietta's residence there. The King and the Duke 
of York now attended the English Church services held at the 
house of Sir Richard Browne, who was still nominal ambas- 
sador on behalf of Charles H. And when, at the close of 
1653, the young Duke of Gloucester, liaving been set free by 
Cromwell, joined his mother at the Palais-Royal, he attended 
those offices daily, on his way to his riding and dancing 
lessons. This excited the Queen's displeasure, and, urged by 
Abb^ Montagu, she determined if possible to make a convert 
of this her youngest son. 

Early in 1654, a Treaty of Alliance was concluded between 
France and England. One of the conditions on which Crom- 



ATTEMPTS TO CONVEllT THE DUKE OF GLOUCESTER. 29 

well insisted, was the departure of Charles II. from France. 
Accordingly, in July, the King left Paris to take refuge at 
Cologne, and, fearing his mother would take advantage of his 
brother's youth, obtained a solemn promise from her, before 
his departure, that she would not attempt to pervert him. 
But hardly was his back turned, than the young Duke was 
exposed to a series of attacks, both from the Queen and Abbe- 
Montagu. The boy was not yet fourteen, but, mindful of his 
dying father's last charge, he resisted these attempts in the 
most resolute manner. The Queen dismissed his faithful 
tutor, Lovel, sent him to Pontoise for a month with Abbe 
Montagu, and would have made him enter a Jesuit's college, 
if it had not been for the determined opposition shown by the 
rest of her children. The Duke of York stood by his brother 
manfully, and the Princess of Orange wrote in great concern 
to Chancellor Hyde of " the great misfortune likely to fall upon 
the family, by her brother Harry's being made a Papist." Her 
aunt, the good Queen of Bohemia, who loved her nephew as 
dearly as her own children, was no less distressed. " I was on 
Saturday last," she wrote to Sir Edward Nicholas, "with 
my best niece (the Princess of Orange), it being her birthday. 
I assure you that she is in much trouble for her dear brother 
Gloucester. I am sorry the King has so much cause for grief. 
I beseech God that He may speedily remedy it. I believe 
that my dear nephew Gloucester has a good resolution, but 
there is no trusting to one of his tender age. I confess I did 
not think the Queen, his mother, would have proceeded thus/' 
Clarendon told the Princess of Orange that he had never 
seen the King so awakened, as in this business. Even Charles's 
indolent nature was roused. He sent a spirited remonstrance 
to the Queen, and, on the loth of November 1654, addressed 
a long letter, to his brother, commanding him never to set 
foot in a Jesuit's college, and advising him to refuse to enter 
into any controversy with the Queen or Abbe Montagu. 

" Do not let them persuade you," he concludes, " either by 
force or fair promises. The first, they neither dare nor will 
use, and for the second, as soon as they have persuaded you, 
they will have their end, and then they will care no more for 



30 GLOUCESTER LEAVES PARIS. 

you. If you do not consider what I say unto you, remember 
the last words of your dead father, which were, to be constant 
to your reh'gion, and never to be shaken in it, which, if you 
do not deserve, this shall be the last time that you will hear 
from, dear brother, — Your most affectionate brother, 

"Charles R." 

Still the Queen, with Anne of Austria's influence to sup- 
])ort her, persevered in her endeavour. On the young Duke's 
return from Pontoise, she tried the effect of caresses and tears, 
assuring the boy of her tender affection, and promising him 
wealthy benefices in France, and even a Cardinal's hat, if he 
would only embrace the Catholic faith. ]5ut the young Duke 
stood firm, and, after another long conference with Abb6 
Montagu, sent his mother word that he would never leave the 
Church of England. The Abbe replied, " Then it is Her 
Majesty's command that you see her face no more." It was 
Sunday morning, and the Queen was starting for Chaillot in 
her coach, when her son fell on his knees before her, and 
asked her farewell blessing. She turned angrily away, and the 
boy went back heart-broken to his own room. Montagu, see- 
ing his distress, asked him what the Queen had said to him, upon 
which the young Duke replied sharply, "What I may thank you 
for, sir, and what I now repeat to you. Be sure that I see 
your face no more." He turned on his heel, and accompanied 
the Duke of York to the English service at Sir Richard 
Browne's chapel. On his return he found his rooms in the 
Palais-Royal dismantled, and no dinner prepared for him. 
His servants were dismissed, his horses turned out of the royal 
stables. But the exiled cavaliers rallied round him. Lord 
Hatton gave him shelter in his lodgings, and Lord Ormonde 
sold his George, the last jewel that he possessed, to supply 
him with funds for his journey. That night the young Duke 
came back to the Palais-Royal, to take leave of the little 
sister whom he loved so tenderly, before the Queen should 
have returned from vespers at Chaillot. The poor little 
Princess, hearing of her brother's intended departure, burst 
into tears, and, dimly conscious that he had quarrelled with 
her mother, cried out through her sobs, " Oh me, my brother ! 



CROMWELL THE BEAST. 3 1 

Oh me, my mother! What shall I do? I am undone for 
ever." 

So they parted, and the Duke, with his faithful companion 
Ormonde, set out to join the King at Cologne. On the way, 
he paid a secret visit to his sister, the Princess of Orange, 
who welcomed him with open arms. But the States-General 
had lately entered into alliance with Cromwell, and Mary 
dared no longer receive her brother openly. In her joy at 
seeing the young Duke, she persuaded him to prolong his 
visit, hoping the States would take no notice of his presence. 

" I am extreme glad," wrote the Queen of Bohemia, wlio 
had hastened to meet her "sweet nephew," "the King per- 
mits him to see his sister and me. I hope he will suffer him 
to stay some time with my dear niece ; it will be a great con- 
tentment to her and no hurt to him. And I am sure our 
Hoghen Moghens — High-Mightinesses — will take no notice of 
him, as long as nothing is said to them." 

But she was wrong, and soon Mary received a formal 
message from the States, requesting the young Prince's dis- 
missal, and reminding her of the treaty which had been made 
with Cromwell. There was no help for it but to obey this 
ungracious order, and, much to the distress of his sister and 
aunt, the Duke started for Cologne. 

" Sure," wrote the Queen of Bohemia in her vexation, 
" Cromwell is the beast in the Revelation, whom all the 
kings of the earth do worship. I wish him an end, and 
speedily." 



CHAPTER III 
1655 — 1656 

Education of the Princess Henrietta — Court fetes and Ballets — Visit of the 
Princess of Orange to Paris — Charles II. at Bruges. 

In the midst of all this strife and tumult, while civil wars were 
raging without and family quarrels within, the young Princess 
Plenrietta grew up a bright and charming child. The Queen- 
mother had spared no pains in her education, and Henrietta 
certainly received more regular instruction, and proved far 
more intelligent and accomplished than any of the other 
princesses at the French Court. The education of princesses, 
in those days, was, as a rule, singularly neglected. Monsieur's 
second wife, Elizabeth Charlotte of Bavaria, declares that the 
way in which the French princesses were brought up was a 
positive scandal. " They are taught nothing and allowed to 
do whatever they please, from the time they are seven until 
they are twenty ! " This at least could not be said of the 
English Princess. Henrietta was naturally quick and clever, 
fond of reading, and taking delight in music and poetry. 
She sang well, played the guitar and harpsichord with 
considerable skill, and danced with a grace and elegance that 
attracted general attention, in those days when dancing was 
looked upon as an important part of a lady's education. 
Madame de La Fayette observes that this youthful Princess 
had enjoyed the inestimable advantage of being educated as 
a private person, and had thus acquired all the knowledge, 
the sweetness and humanity in which royal personages are 
too often wanting. The lessons of adversity had not been 
wasted on Henrietta. " You could see by her very perfections 
that she had been trained in the school of misfortune." 



PRINCESS HENRIETTA. 33 

In her own home she was the pet and plaything of the 
whole household, especially of her eldest brother Charles, 
whose affection for his little sister was noticed by English 
residents at Paris, during the years which he spent in France. 
Those early days saw the foundation of that warm and 
constant love between the brother and sister which was 
to last to the end of Henrietta's life, and was probably the 
deepest and strongest element in Charles 11. 's fickle nature. 
It was the same at the convent of Chaillot, where the Queen 
often took her child for long visits. The nuns welcomed 
her with delight, and nothing pleased her mother better 
than to see the young Princess waiting on the Abbess and 
the Filles de Marie, as they sat at table on great festivals. 
Visitors to Chaillot were charmed with the liveliness and grace 
of this engaging child. Madame de La Fayette and Madame 
de Sevigne both saw her there for the first time, and never 
forgot the pleasant impre.ssion which she then made. Another 
and more important personage, with whom the English 
Princess early became a great favourite, was her aunt, the 
Queen-mother of France. Anne of Austria invariably treated 
her young niece with the greatest kindness. Her heart was 
touched with sympathy for the lonely child, and, convinced 
that the retired life which her mother led could not be good 
for one so young, she would often come herself to the Palais 
Royal, and take her back with her to share in the amusements 
of her cousins. King Louis and his brother Philippe, the young 
Duke of Anjou. 

The Court had now returned to the Louvre, and was gayer 
and more brilliant than it had been for many years past. 
The long-drawn troubles of the Fronde were over, the last 
rumours of civil war had died away, and, while the Cardinal 
held the helm of state in his firm hand, the young King gave 
himself up to amusement. I^c/es and bails were the order of 
the day. The King danced well, and took the greatest 
delight in the ballets and masques that had been lately 
introduced at Court. A perfect passion for masquerading had 
seized on the youthful members of the royal family. 
Mademoiselle took a childish pleasure in dressing herself up 
in various disguises, and her cousin. Monsieur, as the King's 

C 



34 COURT f£;tes. 

brother was now called, was never so happy as when he could 
put on a long mantle and skirts, and appear among his 
mother's ladies with patches on his face, and his handsome 
head dressed like that of a girl. On one occasion they both 
figured at a ball in the picturesque costume of the paysannes 
de Bresse, wearing skirts of silver tissue, trimmed with rose- 
coloured ribands, and stomachers and hats of black velvet 
with white, pink and flame-coloured plumes, and carrying 
gilded crooks in their hands. On another, they appeared in 
the habits of friars, an escapade which seriously displeased 
the Queen-mother. The King early showed a preference for 
those mythological and pastoral ballets which became so 
prominent a feature of his Court in later years. These ballets 
were in reality theatrical representations of a most elaborate 
kind, which were composed with the help of the best poets 
and musicians at Court, and performed with the utmost 
splendour of costume and scenery. 

The Princess Henrietta was early invited to take her part 
in these brilliant entertainments. She first appeared at Court 
at the age of nine, at a magnificent ball given by Cardinal 
Mazarin, in February 1654, to celebrate the marriage of his 
niece, Anna Martinozzi, with the Prince of Conti. On that 
occasion the Cardinal's three younger nieces, the Mancini, 
who had lately arrived from Rome, made their first public 
appearance, but among the youthful guests none were more 
admired than the child-Princess of England, who was present 
with her brothers, the Dukes of York and Gloucester. The 
Court chronicler, Jean Loret, who so often sang the praises 
of Madame in after years, mentions her, that evening, for the 
first time in his metrical record, as a gracious aurora now 
about to dawn upon the world. Henrietta Maria still shrank 
from appearing in public at Court festivities, and would gladly 
have kept her daughter in seclusion for a few more years, but 
Anne of Austria overcame her sister-in-law's reluctance, and, 
at her prayer, the youthful Princess was allowed to take part 
in a grand ballet, entitled " The Nuptials of Thetis and Peleus," 
which was performed by the leading personages of the Court, 
at the Theatre du Petit Bourbon, in April that year. The 
costumes were unusually splendid, the misc-cn-sccnc most 



BALLET OF THETIS. 35 

costly and elaborate. The decorations were designed by 
Torelli, the verses written by Benserade ; the music was 
composed by Lulll, that wonderful Italian boy who had been 
originally a valet in Mademoiselle's household, but had shown 
so much genius for the violin that he had been taken into the 
King's service. Comedians from Mantua had been brought 
to Paris to assist in the performance. The Duke of York, 
Monsieur, and his favourite, the Comte de Guiche, were 
among the actors. Olympia Mancini, who engrossed the 
King's attentions at that moment, represented Music. Louis 
himself appeared in no less than five different parts, and 
represented in turn, Apollo, Mars, a Fury, a Dryad and a 
courtier. The beauty of the music and of the grouping was 
exceedingly admired, and the King's elegance and graceful 
dancing had never before been seen to so great advantage. 
But the tableau that was most applauded was the one in 
which the King appeared in his favourite role of Apollo, the 
Sun-god, surrounded by the nine Muses, and uttered a long 
speech, proclaiming himself the world's victor, before whom 
all powers must quail, save only Love. Then the youthful 
Princess Henrietta stepped forward, crowned with roses and 
myrtle, as Erato, the Muse of love and poetry, and, holding a 
lyre in her hands, repeated the following verses with the most 
charming simplicity and grace: — 

" Ma race est du plus pur sang, 
Des dieux, et sur mes montagnes, 
On me voit tenir un rang 
Tout autre que mes compagnes. 
Mon jeune et royal aspect 
Inspire avec !e respect, 
La pitoyable tendresse, 
Et c'est e\ moi qu'on s'adresse, 
Quand on veut plaindre tout haut 
Le sort des grandes personnes, 
Et dire tout ce qu'il faut 
Sur la chute des couronnes." 

The Court poet had, it must be acknowledged, touched a 
more pathetic chord than usual, and the recital of these lines 
by the orphan child, with her innocent face and winning air, 



^6 COURT FETES. 

took all hearts by storm. The ballet naturally met with 
immense applause, and the King was so well satisfied with 
its success, that he repeated it several times in the course of 
the following winter. Among those present, there were not 
wanting courtiers, who whispered that the King might do 
worse than marry his fair young cousin. Such a union would 
have gratified the Queen of England's fondest wishes, and 
there can be no doubt that at one moment Anne of Austria 
seriously entertained the idea. The wish of her life, she said 
openly, was to see her son wedded to her own niece, the 
Infanta of Spain, but since the political situation seemed to 
render this impossible, she hoped that he would choose this 
amiable young English Princess for his wife. But Louis 
himself looked on his cousin as a mere child, and his eyes 
were dazzled by the more brilliant attractions of the Cardinal's 
nieces. Madame de MotteviUe relates an amusing instance 
of the way in which he already showed that he intended to be 
the master, and would brook no interference with his own 
pleasure. 

During the winter of 1655, many small dances were given 
at the Louvre, and the Queen-mother invited the Queen of 
England to come in privately one evening, and see the King 
dance. She herself had been ailing for some days, and wore 
a cornette (mob-cap) and dressing-gown, to show that she 
was keeping her room, and only a few duchesses and yoimg 
ladies, wives and daughters of the chief officers of the Crown, 
were admitted besides the ladies-in-waiting. In fact, says 
Madame de MotteviUe, the dance was merely given to show 
off the King's dancing, and to amuse the young Princess of 
England, who was just growing out of childhood and showing 
how charming she would soon become. The violins struck 
up, and the King, who at that time of his life was entirely 
devoted to the Mancini, offered his hand to the Duchess de 
Mercoeur, the eldest, and as yet the only married one of 
Mazarin's nieces. Upon this, his mother, amazed at his want 
of thought, rose hastily, and whispered that he must lead out 
his cousin, the Princess of England. Here the English Queen, 
alarmed at the evident resentment of the King, interfered, 
declaring that her daughter had a pain in her foot and could 



THE PRINCESS OF ORANGE. 37 

not dance. Anne of Austria replied, with some heat, that if 
the Princess might not dance, neither should the King. So, 
in order to avoid a scene, Henrietta Maria desired her 
daughter to dance, although this was much against the young 
Princess's will. The Queen-mother took her son gravely to 
task, the next day, but Louis replied sulkily, that he did not 
like little girls. "Yet the Princess," adds Madame de Motte- 
ville, " was at that time eleven years old, and the King sixteen 
or nearly seventeen, but it is true that in appearance and 
manner, he seemed more like twenty." 

As a rule, however, the King treated his aunt and cousin 
of England with all the respect and attention due to their 
rank and misfortunes. In a letter to her son Charles, dated 
November 8, 1655, Henrietta Maria speaks warmly of her 
nephew's agreeable manners, and of the courtesy and defer- 
ence with which he approached her. The other members of 
his family were, unfortunately, not always so thoughtful in 
their behaviour, and treated the poor Queen and her daughter 
with scant consideration on more than one occasion. 

The Princess Henrietta's name figures in the Court Gazette 
repeatedly during the next few years. She accompanied her 
mother to Rheims for the King's coronation, and was often 
present at great religious functions at the principal churches 
of Paris. But, except on these rare occasions, she led a 
secluded life with her mother, either at the Palais-Royal and 
Chaillot, or else at Colombes, a pretty country house on the 
Seine, which Henrietta had bought for her summer residence. 

In the winter of 1656, the quiet round of their lives was 
suddenly enlivened by a visit from the Princess of Orange. 
This Princess still remained the stay of her brothers and 
their exiled friends. She supplied them with money, gave 
Clarendon a house at Breda, and, since she could not receive 
Charles in Dutch territory, met him at Spa or Breda, and paid 
him visits at Cologne. In the summer of 1654 the brother and 
sister took a journey up the Rhine to Frankfort, travelling 
incognito, at least, as Charles remarks in a merry letter to his 
aunt of Bohemia, — " It is so great a secret, that not above half 
the town of Cologne know of it, but we do intend to foreswear 
ourselves, till we be here again." In spite of the troubles 



38 THE TRINCESS OF ORANGE AT PARIS. 

which had darkened her young life, the Princess Royal had 
kept her beauty and high spirits, and, when she could escape 
from political cares and be alone with her brothers, she was 
as gay and light-hearted as Charles himself But the genuine 
affection which she had for her own family, made her anxious 
to heal the breach, that had been caused by the Queen's ill- 
advised attempts at converting her youngest son, and her 
chief object in visiting Paris was to effect a reconciliation be- 
tween the King and his mother. Charles, however, who was 
entering into negotiations with the King of Spain, and had 
lately sent Ormonde on a mission to Madrid, did all in his 
power to stop his sister's journey. Still Mary persisted in 
her intention, and pleaded her natural anxiety to embrace the 
mother whom she had not met for thirteen years, and the 
sister whom she had never seen, and, after writing several 
angry letters, Charles gave way and bade her please herself. 
Accordingly, Mary started gaily on her journey, taking her 
new maid-of-honour, the Chancellor's daughter, Anne Hyde, 
in her suite, in the hope of softening the Queen's well-known 
antipathy to the girl's father, whose independent spirit and 
frankness of speech she could not forgive. They were met 
on the frontier by the Duke of York, who had been serving 
as a volunteer in Turenne's army against the Spaniards, and 
who now saw, for the first time, the fair maid-of-honour whose 
charms were soon to win his heart. 

Meanwhile, great preparations were being made at Paris 
for the Princess Royal's reception, and Cromwell's emissaries 
were a good deal disturbed, fearing her visit might lead to a 
breach of the peace between England and Holland. " What 
should occasion her coming in so unseasonable weather at 
this time of the year, I know not," wrote one of them from 
Paris, " unless it be in the hope the French King will fall in 
love with her." The same suspicion had already crossed 
Mademoiselle's mind, but she observes, in her caustic manner 
that the times were not auspicious for such affairs. 

The Princess was received at Paris with every possible 
honour. The whole Royal Family and the Cardinal went out 
to meet her at Saint-Denis, and brought her to the Palais-Royal 
with a great flourish of trumpets. " Iler reception," wrote 



THE PRINCESS OF ORANGE AT PARIS. 39 

Jermyn to Charles II., on the evening of the 4th of February, 
" has been universally civil in all things and from all persons, 
and, without any flattery, she doth make an impression it is 
likelier to mend than impair. On Sunday she is to be at 
Monsieur's ball, where there will be the best assembly this 
Court can form, and we discover already that she will hold 
her place very well. The Cardinal hath advanced great pro- 
fessions of civility to her, and inclinations of entering into the 
interests of her son, which, perhaps, may be of important 
advantage to him. I find a strong appetite in her to make 
the confidence between the Queen and you more entire than 
she supposes it to be, and I am infinitely joyed that the 
Queen sliall have so irreproachable a witness of her good 
inclinations." 

And the Queen herself added a few lines in her own hand, 
expressing her gratification at the reception which had been 
given her daughter. 

" I leave better pens than mine to give you a description 
of the arrival of your sister, the Princess Royal. She has 
been received right royally, and she pleases everyone here 
from the least to the greatest. She has been to-day so over- 
whelmed with visits, that I am half-dead with fatigue, which 
is my excuse for not telling you more." 

On the 1 8th she wrote again, rejoicing that the King of 
Spain had declared war against Cromwell, and saying: — 
" Your sister will tell you all she is doing here. I think she 
is very tired of receiving visits from morning till night. As 
for me, I am almost dead with them, but you who know 
France, are well aware that, after the first few days, one is 
left quiet enough," 

During the next few weeks, the newly-arrived Princess 
found herself in a whirl of gaiety, unlike anything that she 
had ever seen before. Two days after her arrival. Monsieur's 
ball took place in the Salle des Gardes, which was hung with 
tapestries, and brilliantly illuminated. Anne of Austria 
would allow no widows to dance at her Court, except in 
private, so Mary looked on while the King opened the ball 
with her young sister, and the Court Gazetteer again paints 
the admiration that Henrietta's grace and youth excited. 



40 COURT BALLS. 

" La jeune infante d'Angleterre, 
Qui semblait un ange sur terre, 
Que inenait le Roy tr^s chiestien, 
Dansa si parfaitement bien, 
Que de toute la compagnie 
Elle fut mille fois bdnie." 

On the 14th, the Princess of Orange was present at a 
comedy performed at the Louvre, and two days afterwards, 
she witnessed a ballet on the story of Psyche, composed by 
the King himself But the grandest of all the fetes, this 
carnival time, was that given by Chancelier Seguier in her 
honour. The English Queen was not present, but both her 
daughters and her son James sat at the royal table with the 
Queen-mother and her sons. At the conclusion of the 
banquet, the Chancellor led his guests through a gallery, 
illuminated with 300 torches, to the ball-room ; the King once 
more opened the ball with Henrietta, and when the violins 
struck up, each cavalier presented his lady with a richly- 
decorated basket filled with sweetmeats. Many similar 
entertainments followed, and Mary wrote in high glee to 
her faithful servants at the Hague : — " To tell you the truth, 
I have scarcely time to eat a morsel of bread. I am, how- 
ever, impatient to tell you how well I am treated here, for 
I can assure you that I never, in all my life, received half so 
much civility." And to Charles II. she wrote a little later : — 
" I must tell you first, that I have seen the masque, and in 
the entrh of the performers, received another present, which 
was a petticoat of cloth of silver and embroidered Spanish 
leather, which is very fine and very extraordinary. I was, 
since then, at the Chancellor's, where the King and Queen 
and all the Court were, which was really extremely fine. 
Two nights ago, the King came here in masquerade, and 
others, and danced here. Monday next there is a little ball 
at the Louvre, where I must dance. Judge, therefore, in what 
pain I shall be! This is all I have to tell you, for I have 
been this day at the Carmelites and, to confess the truth, am 
a little weary. I have forgot for three posts to send you 
verses of my uncle's making, which I pray pardon me for, 
and for the dirtiness of the paper, which has been so, with 
wearing it so long in my pocket." 



MADEMOISELLE. 4^ 

The impression which Mary herself made at the French 
Court, was extremely favourable. Her bright and genial 
manners, and her amiability and evident enjoyment of the 
fetes which had been prepared for her, gave widespread 
satisfaction, and she was as popular with the people as with 
the Court. Anne of Austria treated her with the greatest 
distinction, and, when she paid a visit to the Louvre, made 
her sit down on a faiiteuil^ an honour usually reserved for 
crowned heads. " The Princess of Orange," observes a 
French contemporary, "outshone all our ladies, although the 
Court was never more crowded with handsome women, and 
if our Queen had permitted widows to dance, she would 
have done wonders." Mademoiselle, who somehow was apt 
to treat the Fnglish Royal Family in a very supercilious 
manner, was struck by the splendour of the pearls and 
diamonds which Mary wore, and the great affection with 
which she embraced her, when they met for the first time. 
She herself was still banished from Court, but she gave her 
aunt and cousins a sumptuous entertainment at her beauti- 
ful country house of Chilly, where all the princesses and 
duchesses in Paris were present. "The Princess Royal, 
Mary of Orange," she writes, " talked to me without ceasing, 
saying how desirous she had been to see me, and how sorry 
she should have been, to have left France, without having 
accomplished this desire, for the King, her brother, had talked 
of me with so much affection, that she had loved me before 
she saw me. I asked her how she liked the Court of France ? 
She replied that she was indeed well pleased with it — the 
more so, because she had a horrible dislike for Holland, and 
that as soon as the King, her brother, was settled, she should 
go and live with him." 

The Queen also took advantage of the occasion, to recall 
her discarded suitor to Mademoiselle's mind. " Et ce pauvre 
Rot d'Angkterre?" she said to her niece, "are you so un- 
grateful, you will not even ask for news of him ? Hilas ! he 
is so foolish that he will never cease to love you, and he bade 
me tell you when he left France, how sorry he was to go 
without bidding you farewell. Think, if you were married, 
you would no longer be subject to your father's caprices, you 



42 THE PRINCESS OF ORANGE. 

would be your own mistress, you would do what you pleased, 
and you would most likely be well established in England. 
Ce pauvre miserable will know no happiness without you ! 
Had you married him, he and I would be on better terms 
now, for you, I am sure, would have taught him to live more 
happily with me." 

Mademoiselle retorted, with some reason, that if the King 
did not live happily with his mother, he was not likely to live 
happily with her, and the subject was allowed to drop. 

Henrietta Maria, as might be expected, did not let her 
daughter leave France without attempting to bring her over 
to the Church of Rome. She took her to several functions 
at the Carmelite convent, and at Chaillot, and enticed her 
into repeated discussions on the subject. But, however affec- 
tionate and submissive a daughter Mary proved herself in 
other ways, on this point she held firm. Contemporary writers 
all bear witness that, whatever amusements occupied her in 
the week, on Sundays she always made a rule of attending 
the Anglican Church service. She also refused to be present 
at a Court ball on the anniversary of her husband's funeral, a 
scruple which surprised the French ladies immensely, since the 
Prince of Orange had been dead five years. But Mary's love 
for her young husband had been deep and true, and, during her 
visit to Paris, she is said to have refused more than one offer 
of marriage. In the midst of her amusements, she did not 
forget her brothers. She succeeded in restoring a degree of 
harmony between Charles and his mother, and snatched time 
from her devotions in Holy Week, to write a hurried letter 
to her "deare brother of Gloucester," in which she promises 
him a pension of five hundred guilders a month, and tells him 
that she is sending off a suit of clothes which he had begged 
her to order in Paris. "And for the payment of them," adds 
this kind sister, "that shall neither be upon one month nor 
another, for )'0U will find enough to do with your money be- 
sides that." 

The arrival of that strange personage, Queen Christina of 
Sweden, at the French Court that summer, produced a renewal 
of fetes, and the Princess of Orange lingered on with her 
mother till November, when the news of her precious child's 



CHARLES II. AT BRUGES. 43 

illness made her hasten her departure. Fortunately the little 
Prince's malady proved to be only an attack of measles, from 
which he soon recovered, and his mother stopped on her 
journey home, to visit her brother Charles at Bruges. She 
took him a welcome present of 20,000 pistoles, since he was, as 
usual, reduced to his last penny, and all the money he received 
was too soon squandered on his pleasures. These years of 
inaction had already produced a disastrous effect on his habits 
and character. Madame de Motteville, who was fondly attached 
to his mother, paints the change for the worse, which she had 
noticed in this once hopeful Prince, with her usual frankness. 

" The greatest heroes and sages of antiquity," she observes, 
"did not guide their lives by grander principles of action, than 
this young Prince at the opening of his career, but when he 
found that his struggles were doomed to failure, he sank into 
indifference, and bore the ills of poverty and exile with reck- 
less nonchalance, snatching at whatever pleasures came in his 
way, even those of the most degraded kind. So he gave 
himself up to lawless passion, and passed many years, in 
I'rance and other countries, in the utmost sloth." 



CHAPTER IV 
1657 — 1660 

Marriage of Louis XIV, — Portraits of the Princesse d'Angleterre — Letters from 
Charles IL — The Restoration — Letters of Henrietta to her Brother. 

The visit of the Princess of Orange brought a ray of sunshine 
into Queen Henrietta's sad Hfe. After Mary's departure, the 
gloom seemed to settle down more deeply than before. The 
Queen's health was in a failing state, and her letters breathe 
a spirit of profound sadness. There seemed no prospect of 
a Royalist rising in England, and the hopes which Charles II. 
had entertained from his Spanish alliance were destined to 
end in smoke. Meanwhile Cromwell, seeing in Spain " the 
underpropper of the great Romish Babylon," formed a close 
alliance with Mazarin, and even sent a detachment of his 
Ironsides to join in Turenne's campaign against Spanish 
Flanders. " So," he wrote in his orders, " shall we be fighting 
the Lord's battles." This union between England and France 
greatly distressed Queen Henrietta, the more so that both her 
sons, the Dukes of York and Gloucester, had taken service in 
the Spanish army, and were fighting valiantly under the 
exiled Conde, against his own land of France. Charles II. 
himself served in the Spanish army during the winter of 1657, 
and a false report that he had been dangerously wounded in 
an attack on Mardyck reached Paris. In the following June, 
Dunkirk was taken by the French and English forces, after a 
gallant defence by the Spaniards. There was great consterna- 
tion at the Hague and at Paris, for the Dukes of York and 
Gloucester were both in the van of the battle, and for some 
time, they were supposed to have been slain or made prisoners. 
In her distress and anxiety, the Princess of Orange took to 

44 



MADEMOISELLE. 45 

her bed, and the Queen-mother went through agonies of fear, 
until she heard that her sons had reached Bruges safel}^ 

" You may imagine," she wrote to her eldest son, " how 
much I suffer and how ill I pass my time here." 

It was a dark period in her life, and she had little heart 
for the balls and masquerades, the picnics and hunting- 
parties of the gay Court around her. Both in 1657 and 1658, 
the Queen and her daughter spent some weeks for her health 
at the waters of Bourbon, where they were joined by her 
brother Gaston, Duke of Orleans, and his family. The 
remainder of the year was spent chiefly at Colombes, or else 
in retirement at Chaillot, and the appearances of the young 
Princess at Court were few and far between. Mademoiselle 
de Montpensier mentions a fete given by Chancellor Seguier 
at the carnival of 1658, where the Princesse d'Angleterre was 
present, and, " poor child, seemed enchanted to be there, since 
she only goes to balls at the Louvre, as a rule." On that 
occasion, however, Mademoiselle thought it necessary to 
claim precedence of her young cousin, a proceeding which 
excited the Queen-mother's displeasure. Mademoiselle de- 
fended her action to the Cardinal, saying that she had taken 
Henrietta by the hand to avoid disputes, but Mazarin replied 
drily : — " It is said that you passed in to supper before her." 
Upon which Monsieur, who was always glad to oppose the 
Cardinal, took up the cudgels on Mademoiselle's behalf, and 
exclaimed : — " And if she did, she was perfectly right ! 
Things must have come to a fine pass, if we are to allow 
people who depend upon us for bread to pass before us. P'or 
my part, I think they had better betake themselves else- 
where." The Queen-mother scolded the foolish boy for his 
impertinent speech, and the Cardinal tried to soothe Made- 
moiselle's offended dignity, by telling her that, in old days, the 
Kings of Scotland had given place to the sons of France, and 
that she might therefore, if she thought fit, dispute le pas 
with the Princess of England. Mademoiselle hastened to 
declare that she had always lived on the best of terms with 
her aunt and cousin, and had no wish to mortify the poor 
Queen in her present sad condition. But she took care to 
renew her claim at the first opportunity, and her jealousy of 



46 THE king's marriage. 

her youthful cousin was noticed by the whole Court. All 
these wrangles and unkind words were duly reported to 
Henrietta Maria, who wept bitterly when she heard of her 
nephew's speech, and tasted once more, to her cost, how salt 
is the bread of exile. 

Meanwhile, the question of the young King's marriage 
became every day more pressing. The war that still con- 
tinued between France and Spain had put an end to the 
Oueen-mother's hopes of his union with the Infanta Marie 
Therese. Louis himself was devoted to the Cardinal's nieces, 
and spent his time in their company. After Olympia's 
marriage to the Comte de Soissons, in 1657, he transferred 
his affections to her younger sister, Marie Mancini, who, on 
her part, was passionately in love with him, and seriously 
contemplated the prospect of becoming Queen of France. 
The Queen-mother looked with dismay on her son's infatua- 
tion, and told the Cardinal that, as long as she lived, she 
would never consent to such a mhallimice. In her alarm at 
the possibility of such a disaster, her thoughts turned once 
more to the young Princess of England, and she was heard 
to say repeatedly, that she wished the King would make 
choice of a bride who was his equal in rank, and so well suited 
to him in all respects. For a time, the hopes of Queen 
Henrietta revived, and these rumours reached Cromwell's 
minister at the Hague, who reported that Harry Killigrew, a 
talkative gentleman of Charles II.'s bedchamber, spoke con- 
fidently of " a marriage between the King of France and 
Charles Stuart's sister in Paris." But Louis despised his 
slight and delicate girl cousin, and never showed the least 
inclination to choose Henrietta for his bride. " It was evi- 
dent," observes Mademoiselle, " that the King was not pre- 
possessed in her favour, although the Queen felt sincere . 
affection for her." Mazarin himself, anxious to strengthen 
his political position, was inclined to marry the King to the 
Princess of Savoy, and with a view to this alliance, the 
Dowager Duchess of Savoy, or Madame Royale, as the eldest 
daughter of Henri Quatre was still called in P'rance, brought 
her daughter to meet the King at Lyons, in November 1658. 
The Princess Marguerite was very small and olive-skinned, 



THE KINGS MARRIAGE. 47 

with no particular charm to recommend her. ' Sire," said 
Marie Mancini, " you will never let them give you such an 
ugly wife ! " And the Queen-mother was heard to say, that 
she thought the Princess of England would have made a far 
better wife for her son. Whether Marie Mancini's influence 
prevailed, or whether the secret proposals from the King of 
Spain, which had reached Mazarin, put an end to his former 
plan, it is certain that, after the first meeting at Lyons, the 
King showed no further inclination to pay his addresses to 
the Princess of Savoy. At the end of a (ew days, Madame 
Royale left France, and the Court returned to Paris. The 
Queen-mother told Mademoiselle that she was thankful to 
get rid of the whole party, and the King became more 
devoted than ever to Marie Mancini. It was even said that 
he implored his mother on his knees to allow the marriage. 
]3ut Anne of Austria was inflexible, and even Mazarin dared 
not sanction such a departure from inviolable tradition, and 
told the King that if he persisted, it would be impossible for 
him to remain his minister. Finally the Cardinal took the 
wiser course of sending his nieces away. Louis shed tears as 
he parted from Marie Mancini, but once she was gone, he 
soon forgot her, and turned his thoughts towards the marriage 
with the Infanta which was now decided upon. All through 
that summer, negotiations of peace were carried on between 
Mazarin and the Spanish Court. A truce was soon pro- 
claimed, and in July, the Cardinal went to meet Dom Luis de 
Haro at the famous He des Faisans, near Saint-Jean de Luz, 
where the terms of the treaty were discussed during the next 
four months. 

The prospect of peace after so many years of protracted 
hostilities between the two countries, was hailed with joy on 
all sides. The English royal family shared in the general 
rejoicing, and entertained hopes that once France and Spain 
had made friends, the two countries would join in restoring 
Charles IL to the throne of his fathers. But their expecta- 
tions were again doomed to disappointment. The death of 
Cromwell in September 1658, had not produced the change 
of feeling, which the Royalists had expected to see in England, 
and when Charles travelled to Fontarabia, to lay his claims 



4^ TREATY OF THE PYRENEES. 

before the French and Spanish ministers, he was coldly 
received by both parties. As a last means of softening the 
powerful Cardinal, he offered to marry his niece Hortense, 
the handsomest of all the Mancini, who, many years after- 
wards, became well known at his own Court as the Duchesse 
de Mazarin. Even Queen Henrietta, who had violently 
opposed her son's union with the widowed Duchesse de 
Chatillon, as unworthy of his rank, eagerly embraced this 
plan, as a last chance of enlisting Mazarin on his side. But 
the wily minister replied that the King of England did him 
too much honour, and that as long as a cousin of his own 
remained unmarried, he must not stoop to think of a simple 
demoiselle. This allusion to Mademoiselle's scornful rejection 
of the exiled King's suit, was bitterly felt by his mother, and 
the matter dropped. Charles returned to Brussels in a worse 
plight than ever. His brothers lived at Breda, as pensioners 
on the Princess of Orange's bounty, and he was compelled to 
dismiss his servants and to pawn his plate. So great was 
the poverty to which he found himself reduced, that he was 
actually in want of clothes, and had to wear his coat thread- 
bare. 

The Treaty of the Pyrenees was finally signed on the 7th 
of November 1659, and a month afterwards, Louis XIV. 
started on a progress through the southern provinces of his 
kingdom, accompanied by his mother and brother, by 
Mademoiselle, Cardinal Mazarin and the whole Court. 
Christmas was spent at Toulouse, and the early spring in 
visiting the chief towns of Provence and Languedoc. By 
April, Saint-Jean de Luz was reached, and at the same time, 
the King of Spain and his daughter arrived at San Sebastian. 
A series of prolonged conferences now took place, in which 
all the details of the marriage contract, and the exact 
etiquette to be observed at the wedding, were carefully 
arranged. In her Memoirs, Mademoiselle has left us a 
lively record of the wrangling over questions of precedence to 
which this gave rise, and which in her eyes and in those of 
Monsieur were of such inestimable importance. She has 
also given us a minute account af the royal wedding, which 
was solemnised twice over, first on Spanish, then on French 



MADAME DE BRliGIS' PORTRAIT. 49 

territory, on the 3d and 9th days of June. When the 
nuptial ceremonies had been at length concluded, the Court 
set out once more on its homeward journey. 

While these splendid but tedious pageants were occupy- 
ing the attention of all Europe, the young Princess Henrietta 
of England remained alone at Colombes, with her sad mother. 
She had witnessed the magnificent preparations made by her 
cousins for the royal wedding, and the dazzling display of 
robes and jewels destined to be worn on this occasion, before 
the Court set out on this memorable journey. Even her 
young cousins of Orleans, Mademoiselle's step-sisters, had 
been summoned to bear the new Queen's train on the 
wedding-day. Brought up, as Henrietta had been at the 
French Court, and accustomed to take a part in its festive 
scenes, from her earliest childhood, she may well have felt 
life at Colombes dull and lonely, and have sighed, a little 
wearily, over the perpetual round of services in the convent 
at Chaillot. She was fifteen years of age now, and full of 
youthful vivacity and brightness. We possess more than 
one description of her appearance, at this period of her life, 
which give a good idea of her budding charms. Father 
Cyprian is never tired of dwelling on the perfections of his 
^'petite princesse!' He extols her rare beauty of face, her 
exquisite figure, the grace of her movements, her skill in 
dancing and playing musical instruments, her lively wit and 
excellent disposition. Others, beside the too partial old 
priest, now began to discover her attractions. The practice 
of writing portraits had lately become fashionable at Court. 
Mademoiselle began by composing her own, and gave a fairly 
correct, although decidedly flattering, description of her 
appearance and character. All the wits of the day followed 
her example. An accomplished lady of the Precieuses 
group, Madame de Bregis, wrote the following portrait of 
the Princesse d'Angleterre, in June 1658, when hopes were 
still entertained that she might one day be the bride of 
Louis XIV. 

" To begin with her height, I must tell you that this young 
Princess is still growing, and that she will soon attain a per- 
fect stature. Her air is as noble as her birth, her hair is of a 

D 



50 jMadame de br£gis' portrait. 

bright chestnut hue, and her connplexion rivals that of the 
gayest flowers. The snowy whiteness of her skin betrays the 
HHes from which she sprang. Her eyes are blue and bril- 
liant, her lips ruddy, her throat beautiful, her arnns and hands 
well made. Her charms show that she was born on a throne, 
and is destined to return there. Her wit is lively and agree- 
able. She is admired in her serious moments and beloved 
in her most ordinary ones ; she is gentle and obliging, and 
her kindness of heart will not allow her to laugh at others, as 
cleverly as she could, if she chose. She spends most of her 
time in learning all that can make a princess perfect, and de- 
votes her spare moments to the most varied accomplishments. 
She dances with incomparable grace, she sings like an angel, 
and the spinet is never so well played as by her fair hands. 
All this makes the young Cleopatra the most amiable Princess 
in the world, and if Fortune once unties the fold that wraps 
her eyes, to gaze upon her, she will not refuse to give her the 
greatest of earth's glories, for she deserves them well. I wish 
them for her, more passionately than I can say." 

A year later, Sir John Reresby gives us a pleasant picture 
of his own intercourse with this fascinating Princess. This 
young Englishman had spent some months at Paris in 1654, 
studying French and learning the guitar and dancing. He 
tells us how, in those days, he often watched the King, the 
Duke of York and Prince Rupert, playing at billiards in a hall of 
the Palais-Royal, but how he dared not approach them, for 
fear Cromwell might be told that he was paying court to the 
exiled monarch, and take the opportunity to confiscate his 
Yorkshire estates. In 1657, Reresby returned to spend the 
winter at a pension in Paris, and then paid frequent visits 
to the French Court, and went " as often as he durst" to pay 
his respects to the Queen-mother of England, who received 
him with especial favour, since he was related to several noble 
French families, and had three cousins among the nuns in the 
convent of Chaillot. That summer he went back to England, 
but in November 1659, he once more arrived in Paris, which 
he had before found so agreeable a residence. Now that the 
dreaded Lord Protector was dead, his fears vanished, and he 
lost no time in paying his respects to Queen Henrietta. 



SIR JOHN RERESBY. $1 

" As soon as I had put myself into some equipage,'' Sir 
John writes in his diary, " I endeavoured to be acquainted 
at the Queen-mother of England's Court, which she then kept 
at the Palais-Royal, which I did without any great notice 
taken of it in England, the King and Dukes being then 
banished into Flanders, and none of her children with Henri- 
etta Maria, but the Princess Henrietta. Few Englishmen 
making there their Court, made me the better received, besides 
speaking the language of the Court and dancing passably well. 
The young Princess, then aged about fifteen years, used me 
with all the civil freedom that might be, made me dance with her, 
played on the harpsichord to me in Her Highness's chamber, 
suffered me to attend upon her, when she walked in the gar- 
den with the rest of her retinue, and sometimes to toss her in a 
swing made of a cable which she sat upon, tied between two 
trees, and in fine suffered me to be present at most of her 
innocent diversions. The Queen commanded me to be there, 
as often as I conveniently could. She had a great affection 
for England, notwithstanding the severe usage she and hers 
had received from it. She discoursed much with the great 
men and ladies of France, in praise of the people and country 
— of their courage, their generosity and good nature — and 
would attribute the rebellion to a few desperate and infatuated 
persons, rather than the temper of the nation. To give an 
instance of her care, in regard to our countrymen, I happened 
one day to carry an English gentleman to Court, and he, 
willing to be very gay, had got him a garniture of rich red and 
yellow ribbons to his suit. The Queen observing the absurd 
effect, called to me and advised me to tell my friend to mend his 
taste a little, as to his choice of ribbons, for the two colours he 
had joined, were ridiculous in France, and would make people 
laugh at him." 

Another and still more welcome visitor, took advantage of 
the King and Cardinal's absence, to come to Paris. This was 
Charles H., who, on his return from Spain, paid a brief visit 
to his mother, in her country house at Colombes. His sister 
Henrietta alludes to this intended visit, in the first letter that 
we have from her pen. It bears no date, but the mention of 
the peace which had been proclaimed in November, shows that 



52 HENRIETTA'S LETTERS. 

it belongs to this period. Like all Henrietta's letters, it is 
written in French, and the original, still bearing the seals and 
brown silk ties that fastened it together, is preserved among 
the Royal MSS. in the library at Lambeth Palace. 

" I would not let Milord Inchiquin leave, without assuring 
Your Majesty of my respect, and thanking you for the honour 
you do me, in writing to me so often. I fear that this may 
give you too much trouble, and I should be sorry if Your 
Majesty should take so much for a little sister, who does not 
deserve it, but who can at least acknowledge and rejoice in 
the honour you do her. I hope the peace will give you all 
the happiness you desire, and then I shall be happy, because 
of the love and respect I bear Your Majesty. It is a cause of 
great joy to me, since it gives me the hope of seeing you, 
which is most passionately desired by your very humble 
servant.'' 

Soon afterwards, Charles arrived at Colombes, and his 
presence had the good effect of removing the remains of the 
ill-feeling that had so long divided him from his mother. 
But Cardinal Mazarin would not give him leave to remain 
long on French territory, and he soon retired to Brussels. 
So the winter months passed gloomily. The situation re- 
mained unchanged in England, and the Cardinal's resolute 
refusal to give her son the least encouragement, had deeply 
distressed Queen Henrietta. To add to her troubles, 
Mazarin took advantage of a quarrel which had arisen over 
the government of Orange, to seize on that city, and this 
ancient principality, from which the Princes of Orange had 
long taken their title, was annexed to France. Henrietta's 
attempt at intervention on her grandson's behalf, proved 
ineffectual, but the boy Prince himself never forgave the 
wrong, and from that moment, became the bitter enemy of 
Louis XIV. Fortune seemed to have utterly forsaken the 
cause of the Stuarts. Charles and his brothers were left to 
drag on a miserable existence at Brussels or Breda, in the 
utmost poverty, and without a friend to help them, but their 
generous sister, Mary of Orange. Still the King, after his 
wont, found means to enjoy himself, and a letter which he 
wrote to his sister Henrietta from Brussels, on the 7th of 



CHARLES II.'S LETTER. 53 

February, breathes his usual strain of h'ght-hearted gaiety. 
This letter belongs to the series preserved in the Aj-chives dn 
Mtmsth'e des Affaires ^traugeres at Paris, and is one of the 
few which are written in French. 

" I begin this French letter by assuring you, that I am very 
glad to be scolded by you. I withdraw what I said with 
great joy, since you scold me so pleasantl}^, but I will never 
take back the love I have for you, and you show me so much 
affection that the only quarrel we are ever likely to have, will 
be as to which of us two loves the other best. In that respect, 
I will never yield to you. I send you this letter by the hands 
of Janton, who is the best girl in the world. We talk of you 
every day, and wish we were with you, a thousand times a 
day. Her voice has almost entirely returned, and she sings 
very well. She has learnt the song de ma queue. ' I prithee, 
sweet harte, come tell me and do not lie,' and a number of 
others. When you send me the scapular, I promise to wear 
it always, for love of you. Tell Madame Boude that I will 
soon send her my portrait. Just now the painter is away, but 
he returns in a few days. Tell me, I beg of you, how you 
spend your time, for if you stayed long at Chaillot in this 
miserable weather, you must have been not a little bored. 

" For the future, pray do not treat me with so much cere- 
mony, or address me with so many Your Majesties, for 
between you and me, there should be nothing but affec- 
tion.i C. R." 

' "Je commence cette lettre icy en fran^ois, en vous assurant que je suis fort 
aise de qiioy vous me grondez ; je me dedis avec beaucoup de joye, puisque vous 
me querellez si obligeamment, mais je ne me dedieray jamais de I'amitie que j'ay 
]wur vous, et vous me donnez tant de marques de la vostre, que nous n'aurons 
jamais autre querelle, que celle de qui de nous deux aimerons le plus I'un I'autre, 
mais en cela je ne vous cederay jamais. Je vous envoye celle-ci par les mains de 
Janton, qui est la meilleure fille du monde. Nous parlons tous les jours de vous, 
et souhaitons mille fois le jour d'estre avec vous. Sa voix lui est revenue quasi 
tout-A,-fait, et elle chante fort hien. Elle m'a appris le chanson de ma queue. ' I 
prithee, sweet hearle, come tell me and do not lie,' et quantite d'autres. Quand 
vous m'envoyerez le scapulaire, je vous promets de la porter toujours pour I'amour 
de vous. 

" Dites k Afadame Boude que je luy envoyeray bientot mon portrait. Pre- 
sentiment le peintre n'est pas en cette ville, mais il reviendra dans peu de jours. 
Mandez-moi, je vous pris, comme vous passez votre temps, car si vous avez ele 



54 THE RESTORATION. 

This letter, which breathes so tender an affection for his 
young sister and is in many respects so characteristic an 
effusion of the Merry Monarch, bears the royal seal, and is 
addressed on the fourth page " For deare, deare Sister^ 

Four days after it was written, Monk entered London at 
the head of his army, and requested all the members of Parlia- 
ment who had been driven out in 1648, to return to the House. 
A month later, the Long Parliament voted its own dissolution, 
and Monk entered into negotiations with the exiled King. 
Charles now joined his sister Mary at Breda, where he drew 
up the famous Declaration, proclaiming a general amnesty 
and religious toleration for all his subjects. His restoration 
was now morally certain, and from all sides congratulations 
and protestations of friendship came pouring in. The French 
and Spanish Kings, who had so lately declined to give him 
any promise of support, now vied with each other in the 
warmth of their expressions. Mazarin was foremost in his 
congratulations, and intimated his readiness to give the King 
either of his remaining nieces in marriage, while the High and 
Mighty States of Holland, who had treated the exiled Princes 
so harshly, now loaded them with presents and honours. 
" Whoever is King of England," they said in private, " were it 
the devil himself, we must be friends with him." English 
Royalists and foreign ambassadors alike hastened to Breda. 
Guns were fired and bonfires kindled, and before long the 
whole place was in an uproar of tumultuous rejoicing. 

In the midst of all this turmoil, Charles found time to write 
another affectionate note to his sister at Paris. It is dated 
the 29th of April, and bears the inscription : " Poiinna chere, 
cJiere soeiir" on the fourth page. 

" I wrote to you last week, and meant to send my letter in 
J an ton's packet, but she had ah-eady closed hers, so I had to 
give my letter to Mason. I have received yours of the 23rd, 
which is so full of marks of affection that I know not how to 

qiielque temps a Chaillot, p.-xr rette mechanic saison, voiis voiis y estes un pen 
beaucoup ennuy^e. Pour I'avenir, je vous pric, ne me trailez pas avec tant de C(fr6- 
monie, en me donnant tant de Majest^s, car je ne veux pas qii'il y ait autre 
chose entre nous deux qu'amitie." 



THE RESTORATION. 55 

find words in which to express my joy. In return, I must 
assure you that I love you as much as possible, and that 
neither absence, nor any other cause will alter the affection I 
have promised to bear you, in the smallest degree. Never fear 
that others who are present shall get the advantage over you, 
for, believe me, no one can share the love I cherish for you. 

" I have sent to Gentseau to order some summer clothes, 
and have told him to take the ribbons to you, for you to 
choose the trimming and feathers. Thank you for the song 
which you have sent me. I do not yet know if it is pretty, as 
Janton has not yet learnt it. If you only knew how often we 
talk of you, and wish you were here, you would understand 
how much I long to see you, and do mc the justice to believe 
that I am entirely yours.' C. R." 

On the 1st of May the new Parliament met, and after 
reading the King's letter, at once proclaimed " that, according 
to the fundamental laws of the kingdom, the government 
resides and ought to reside, in the King, Lords and Commons." 
Well might the widowed Countess of Derby write: — "The 
change is so great, I can hardly believe it. My letter of the 
1 2th of last month would tell you of the hope we had of the 
restoration of the King. This one will tell you that, by the 
grace of God, the Parliament has done justice and recognised 
His Majesty. On the ist of this month, the Houses of Lords 
and Commons unanimously consented to it. All are delighted, 

^ " Je vous ecrivis la semaine passe, et croyait I'envoyer clans le paquet de Janton, 
niais elle avait ferme le sien, de sorte que j'etais contraint de donner ma lettre a 
Mason. J'ay la votre du 236 ou j'ay trouve tant de marques d'amitie que je ne 
savais trouver de parolles pour exprinier ma joye. En recompense, je vous assure 
que je vous aime autant tjvie je le puis faire, et que ny I'absence, ni aucune autre 
chose, puisse jamais me detourner en la moindre fa^on de cette amiti^ que je vous ay 
promise, et n'ayez point peur que ceux qui sont present auront I'avantage sur vous, 
car croyez-moi, I'amitie que j'ay pour vous ne peut pas estre partaigee. J'ai envoye 
a Gentseau de me faire des habits pour I'este, et je luy ay donne ordre de vous 
apporter le ruban, afin que vous choissiez la garniture et les plumes. 

" Je vous remercie pour la chanson que vous m'avez envoye ; je ne S9ay pas si 
elle est jolie, car Janton ne la S9ait pas encore. 

" Si vous s^aviez combien de fois nous parlons de vous, et vous souhaitons icy 
nous diriez qu'on souhaite fort de vous voir, et faites moy la justice de croire que je 
puis tout k vous." 



56 THE RESTORATION. 

and have given evidence of their repentance for their past 
conduct. The King has written three letters, to the two 
Houses and to General Monk, who has conducted this affair 
with a prudence that will cause him to be esteemed for all 
generations. It is true that this passes human wisdom, and 
that, in all humility, we ought to recognise in it the hand of 
the Eternal : it is beyond our understanding, and can never 
be enough admii-ed." 

A frenzy of enthusiasm now ran through the nation. The 
King's presence was clamorously desired, and the Parliament 
sent commissioners over to Holland, dutifully to invite his 
return. They bore with them a gift of £30,000, and the 
happy King called the ]'rincess of Orange and the Duke of 
York, to see the gold, which he had so sorely needed, spread 
out before him. Gifts of money and pictures, a royal yacht 
and a sumptuous bed, were humbly presented by their High- 
Mightinesses of Holland, and the King was literally besieged 
Nvith deputations from all parts. On the 23d, he embarked at 
the Hague, and the name of the ship Avhich bore him, was 
changed from the Naseby to that of the Royal Charles. On 
the eve of his embarkation, the Queen-mother sent him a 
touching little note from Chaillot, begging him to remember 
those who had suffered for him and his father, and to satisfy 
her anxiety by sending her news of his arrival as speedily as 
possible. " My prayers," she adds, "go with you to England." 

A week later, a courier reached Colombes to announce that 
the King had landed safely at Dover, where he had been 
received with acclamation, and was now about to make his 
triumphal entry into London. The messenger also brought a 
letter for the Princess, written by the King from Canterbury, 
on the 26th of May. 

" I was so tormented with businesse at the Hague, that I 
could not write to you before my departure, but I left orders 
with my sister (the Princess of Orange) to send you a small 
present from me, which I hope you will soon receave. I 
arrived yesterday at Dover, where I found Monk, with a great 
number of the nobility, who almost overwhelmed me with 
kindnesse and joy for my returne. My head is so dreadfully 



REJOICINGS AT COLOMBES. 57 

Stunned with the acclamations of the people, and the vast 
amount of businesse, that I know not whether I am writing 
sense or nonsense. Therefore pardon me if I say no more 
than that I am entirely yours. — For my dear sister." ' 

The present which the Princess shortly received, to her 
great delight, was a handsome side-saddle with trappings of 
green velvet, richly embroidered and trimmed with gold lace. 
She wrote back promptly from Colombes : — 

" I have received the letter you have sent me by Mr Progers, 
and which has delighted me in no small degree, for to know 
that you have reached England, and at the same time that you 
have remembered me, has given me the greatest joy in the 
world. In truth, I wish I could express all that I feel for you, 
and you would see how true it is, that no one is more your 
servant than I am." 

Her mother poured out her heart in the following note to 
her son, written from Colombes, at five o'clock on the morning 
of the 9th of June : — 

" You may judge of my joy, and if you are torn in pieces 
over in England, I have had my share here in France. I am 
going this moment to Chaillot to have a Te Deum sung there, 
and on to Paris to light onr feux de joies. We had them here 
yesterday. I think I shall have all Paris to congratulate me. 
Indeed, you would never imagine what joy there is here. We 
must praise God. All this is from His hand. You can see it 
plainly. I will not detain you any longer. God bless you. 
I send you a letter from Madame de Motteville, which M. de 
Montagu opened, he tells me, by accident. He is very sorry, 
and begs me to close it, but I shall send it as it is. You will 
forgive him." 

Then came the news of the King's splendid reception in 
London, and his mother wept tears of joy, when she heard that 
he was once more lodged in his own palace of Whitehall. 

" I stood in the Strand," wrote Evelyn in his journal, "and 
beheld it, and blessed God. All this was done without one 
drop of blood shed, and by that very army which rebelled 

' This letter is given by Mrs Everett Green, from the original in M. Donnadieu's 
collection. 



58 REJOICINGS AT THE PALAIS-ROYAL. 

against him. But it was the Lord's doing, for such a Restora- 
tion was never mentioned in any history, ancient or modern, 
since the return of the Jews from the Babylonish Captivity." 

No one was more surprised than Charles himself '' It is 
certainly a mistake," he said, with his usual irony, " that I did 
not come back sooner, for I have not met anyone to-day who 
has not professed to have always desired my return." 

Far off in Paris, the long exiled and widowed Queen shared 
in the ecstasy of joy which thrilled the nation's heart. The 
sorrows and humiliations of the past were forgotten in the 
rapture of the present. All Paris thronged to the Palais- 
Royal. The faithful friends who had sorrowed with her now 
came to rejoice in her joy. The fickle courtiers, who had 
treated her with neglect and contempt in her dark hours, 
hastened to assure her of their regard, in the first flush of her 
revived prosperity. Sir John Reresby, who was still in Paris, 
describes the extraordinary joy with which the news of the 
King's restoration was hailed, the bonfires and salutes which 
celebrated the happy event. He was present at the noble 
ball given on this occasion, at the Palais-Royal, to which 
" everybody of the greatest quality was invited, and all the 
Englishmen in Paris had admittance." At the Queen's 
command. Sir John himself led out the Cardinal's beautiful 
niece, Hortense Mancini. He stayed on in Paris till the 2d 
of August, and tells us in his journal, how favourite a resort 
the English Queen's Court had now become, and how far more 
largely attended it was than that of the two French Queens, 
on their return to Fontainebleau. " For our Queen's good 
humour and wit, and the great beauty of the young Princess, 
her daughter, made it more attractive than the solemn Spanish 
etiquette observed in the others," Sir John adds that he him- 
self received more honours from the Queen and Princess than 
he deserved, and finally went home with letters of particular 
recommendation to the King, from his mother and sister, 
which procured him a very favourable reception at White- 
hall. 

During the next few weeks, the Palais-Royal was besieged 
with English gentlemen, on their way home, all of whom came 
to beg for a few words of recommendation to the King, from 



HENRIETTA'S LETTERS. 59 

the Queen or her dauj^hter. Several notes of this description 
are to be found among the Princess's letters at Lambeth. On 
the 30th of June she writes: — 

" After having only last week excused myself for troubling 
}'ou so often with letters, you will think me quite incorrigible. 
You would certainly not have had to suffer, from this fresh 
importunity, had not the bearer of these lines prayed me so 
earnestly that it was impossible to refuse. But I will not 
trespass upon your kindness, excepting to assure }'ou that 1 
am your very humble servant." 

On the 30th of July, she writes again by Lord Dungarvan, 
who had begged the Queen for a letter to her son : — 

" Even if you were likely to forget me, my importunit}- 
will certainly prevent that, but this time you would not have 
been troubled, had it not been for the prayer of my Lord 
Dungarvan. The Queen herself would have written had she 
not been ill, but, thank God ! her complaint is not serious, since 
it was only caused by eating too much fruit. I hope you 
will excuse me this time, for I could not sa}- no, since the 
bearer is a relative of Madame de Kinalmeky, and I will once 
more assure you, that I am your very humble servant." 

On the 17th of August, the Princess appears to have sent 
as many as three notes to her brother, by different messengers, 
and, as she says merrily, the King may well declare that, in 
spite of all her promises of amendment, she is the most incor- 
rigible of sinners. Two of the three are preserved at Lambeth, 
and were written from Colombes. The bearer of the first was 
an astrologer, who cast horoscopes after the fashion then pre- 
vailing at the Court of France, and amused great ladies with 
his conjuring tricks. 

" I must write to you by M. Fevrier, who is going to 
England, in the assurance that he will deceive more than half 
the kingdom. He even hopes to begin with you ! We are 
soon going to Paris to see the entry of the Queen, which takes 
place on the 26th of this month. I would offer to tell you all 
about it, if my Lord St. Albans were not staying here over 
that time. He will acquit himself of the task far better than 
I can, although I am more than anj'one }-our most humble 
servant." 



6o HENRIETTA'S LETTERS. 

The other letter was written at the request of Mr Fitz- 
patrick. 

"This porter, Mr Fitzpatrick, has begged me earnestly to 
write to you, so that, although three letters in one day will 
make you think me very troublesome, I have already sinned 
so deeply in this respect, that I may as well venture it once 
more. Madame de Fiennes has just come in, and begs me to 
tell you that it is lucky for you she has not an army, for, had 
she one at her disposal, she would revenge herself on you for 
pretending that you have read her letters, when you have not 
even opened them !" 

Madame de Fiennes, who was apparently on intimate 
terms with both the Princess and her brother, had been for 
many years one of Queen Henrietta's ladies-in-waiting, and 
had married the young Comte des Chapelles, a son of her 
mistress's old nurse. The disparity of age, as well as of rank, 
between the two, had excited great surprise in the French 
royal family, and Mademoiselle spoke with undisguised con- 
tempt of this "" fille de quarante ans," who chose to marry a 
boy of two-and-twenty, simply for the sake of his good looks, 
and who now found herself related to all the Queen's waiting- 
women. But Madame de Fiennes was a clever woman, and, 
in spite of her marriage, she managed to fill her pockets, and 
retain her influence at Court. She was a great favourite of 
the King's brother, Monsieur, and remained sincerely attached 
to his future wife, the Princess Henrietta. When, in after 
years, she accompanied her mistress, the Queen-mother, to 
England, she kept Madame well informed of all that happened 
at her brother's Court, and acquired a great reputation for her 
witty letters and sharp sayings. But her too great freedom of 
speech proved the cause of many troubles, and the broils and 
intrigues in which she became involved did not add to the 
harmony of the royal family. 



CHAPTER V 

1660. 

Philip, Duke of Orleans, makes Henrietta an OfTer of Marriage — State Entry of 
Louis XIV. and his Queen — Embassy of the Comte de Soissons to England 
— Dcatli of Henry, Duke of Gloucester — -Visit of the Princess of Orange 
to London — Reception of the Queen-mother and Princess Henrietta in 
England. 

The sudden change in the fortunes of the English Royal 
Eamily was naturally not without its effect on the future of the 
Princess Henrietta. One of its first results was to bring for- 
ward a suitor for her hand, in the person of Louis XIV. 's only 
brother, Philippe de P"" ranee, commonly known as Monsieur. 

To do Monsieur justice, it must be owned that he had 
fallen in love with his cousin, some time before her brother's 
Restoration. Mademoiselle complains repeatedly of his in- 
fatuation for ' cette maison d'Avgleterre" and ascribes the 
influence gained over him by the Princess Palatine, Anne de 
Gonzague, wife of Prince Edward, the youngest son of the 
Queen of Bohemia, entirely to her skill in approaching him on 
his weak side, and promising to help on his marriage with 
Henrietta. Mademoiselle resented this obstinate passion 
of Monsieur the more, because, after her return to Court, 
she herself had seriously contemplated the idea of a marriage 
with him. The cousins had been brought up together. Made- 
moiselle, who was thirteen years older, had played and quar- 
relled with Monsieur from the da3's of his babyhood, and 
retained a certain liking for him all through her life. They 
bickered perpetually over the merest trifles, but, all the same, 
Monsieur admired his strong-minded cousin, and she, on her 
part, had acquired the habit of considering him as her own 
property. But her haughty and imperious tempei*, as usual, 

61 



62 monsieur's suit. 

stood in her way, and the Queen-mother, whonri she was per- 
petually affronting, showed herself decidedly averse to the 
marriage. Monsieur's evident inclination for his fair young 
English cousin, on the contrary, was in the highest degree 
agreeable to his mother, and when the King's marriage with 
the Infanta had been finally arranged, she declared that her 
only other wish was to see her younger son wedded to the 
gentle Princess whom she loved as her own child. 

Meanwhile, Queen Henrietta, anxious to see her daughter 
settled, had made tentative proposals both to her nephew, the 
young Duke of Savoy, and to the Grand Duke of Tuscany. 
But neither of these seemed particularly desirous to wed the 
sister of a crownless and penniless King. Besides which. 
Cardinal Mazarin was bent on securing these Princes for the 
two younger daughters of Gaston, Duke of Orleans, and had 
laid his plans with his usual wiliness. So the English Queen's 
advances were coldly received, and Mademoiselle tells us how 
King Louis, who was fond of teasing his brother about his 
impatience to get married, would often say as they sat 
together in their coach on the way to Spain : " Come, cheer 
up ! You will marry the Princess of England, for no one else 
will have her. Monsieur de Savoie and Monsieur de Florence 
have both declined the honour, so I am sure that you will 
marry her in the end." It was not long, adds Mademoiselle, 
before this marriage, which La Palatine was secretly arranging 
for poor Monsieur, began to be freely discussed. P"or herself, 
she owns, she could take no interest in the affair, although, 
she hastens to add, that she had not the least wish to marry 
His Royal Highness herself And Gui Patin, that clever and 
satirical doctor, whose letters are full of allusions to con- 
temporary events, observes, about this time, that people say 
King Charles of England is going to give his sister to the 
young Due d'Anjou, but that the proposal has aroused great 
jealousy and discussion at Court. 

The Cardinal's objection to the marriage was the real 
difficulty, but from the moment of Charles II.'s restoration 
all this was changed. Accordingly, no sooner had the Court 
returned to Fontainebleau, than Monsieur hastened to pay 
his addres.ses to the Princess, and took every opportimity of 



MARRIAGE OF HENRIETTA. OT, 

declaring his intentions. A week after her arrival, Anne of 
Austria came herself to Colombes, and conducted Henrietta 
and her mother to Fontainebleau, to introduce them to the 
young Queen Marie Ther^se. A few days afterwards, on the 
I2th of August, Monsieur gave a grand ball at Saint-Cloud, 
which the King liad lately purchased from Ilcrvard, the 
Comptroller of Finances, and given his brother as a country 
residence. Both the Queen-mothers were present on this 
occasion, and Monsieur opened the ball with the Princess 
Henrietta. Her dancing was extremely admired, and the 
approaching marriage of the youthful pair became a common 
topic of conversation at the Court. On the 20th of August, 
Queen Henrietta wrote to her daughter of Orange that her 
sister's marriage was virtually settled, and that Charles H. 
had expressed his readiness to give his consent, although the 
formal demand had not yet been made. On the 24th, the 
Queen and Princess both came to Paris, to be present at the 
entry of the young Queen, and the next day, Henrietta Maria 
wrote the following letter to her son : — 

" I arrived in this town yesterday, and, as soon as I was 
here, the Queen came to see me, and informed me that she 
came on behalf of her son, the King, to tell me that he joined 
her in begging me to do Monsieur the honour of giving him 
my daughter in marriage. They have decided to send an 
ambassador to present this request to you, and meanwhile, 
the Queen has given me many friendly messages, both for 
you and for myself. I replied that the King and herself did 
my daughter much honour, and that I would not fail to in- 
form you of their wishes. ' I beg you to do this,' she said, 
' until we are able to send an ambassador.' I believe that 
you will give me permission to say that you approve of this 
union. I assure you that your sister is by no means averse 
to the idea, and as for Monsieur, he is very much in love 
(tout-a-fait avwuretcx) and extremely impatient for your 
answer." 

The marriage was naturally one after Henrietta Maria's 
own heart. Monsieur was twenty years of age, exceedingly 
handsome, and passionately in love with his cousin. On the 
death of his uncle, Gaston, Duke of Orleans, in February 1660, 



64 MADAME. 

the King had invested him with the Duchies of Orleans, 
Valois, and Chartres, and the estates of Saint-Cloud, Villers- 
Cotterets and Montargis. In age, rank and fortune he was 
an eminently suitable match, " a husband," says Madame de 
Motteville, " not to be refused by the greatest princess in the 
world." And besides the natural pride which the fille dc 
Henri Quatre felt in the prospect of seeing her daughter 
married into the royal house, this union would spare her the 
pain of parting from her dearly-loved child, who need never 
now leave France. 

On the 26th of August, the entry of the young King and 
Queen took place. The weatl^er was brilliant, and the people 
were enthusiastic. Eye-witnesses describe the scene as one 
of the most splendid ever known in Paris. From the bal- 
conies of the Hotel de Beauvais, close to an Arc de Triomphe 
erected at the gates of St Antoine in honour of the occasion, 
the English Queen and Princess, together with the Queen- 
mother of France, looked down on the glittering procession, 
as it paused to salute them in its course. They saw the 
young Queen enthroned in her golden chariot, serene and 
stately in her royal robes, with her placid face unmoved by 
the shouts of the crowd. At her right hand rode the King, 
followed by the flower of France's chivalry — glorious, says the 
chronicler, in youth and majesty as the Sun-god himself — 
while on her left, Henrietta saw her betrothed, riding a noble 
white horse, and wearing a richly-embroidered suit, blazing 
with jewels. Long was that spectacle remembered in years 
to come, the brilliant harbinger of a still more brilliant period 
in the history of France. The people had good reason to 
shout for joy that day, for they applauded not only the 
presence of their popular King, and the coming of a youthful 
Queen, but the restoration of the long-wished-for peace and 
the dawn of a new and better day. The summer morning 
was full of triumph and gladness, bright hopes were stirring 
in the air, and great things were expected from this young 
and gracious King. And the youthful Princess, who watched 
her royal lover ride by, amid the delirious shouts of the 
multitude, may well have thought, as she stood on the 
threshold of her wedded life, that for her, too, after all her 



mademoiselle's claims. 65 

past troubles and dangers, a happier day was breaking, and 
that down the long vista of the years to come, love and joy 
were waiting to strew her path with blessings. 

But there were shadows already on the sunny prospect, 
and in that triumphal procession there was more than one 
angry and discontented soul. " The quarrels over precedence 
have been endless," wrote Queen Henrietta Maria to her son, 
" and three dukes have been banished from Court because they 
refused to yield le pas to the foreign princes then in Paris." 
But the most tiresome, the most unreasonable of all, had been 
her own niece, Mademoiselle. On this occasion, she utterly 
refused to allow Princess Henrietta the place due to her rank, 
and contended stoutly that since, in Flanders, the Prince de 
Cond6 had taken precedence of the Duke of York, she, as a 
grand-daughter of France, need not give way to a daughter of 
England. " Up to this time," she writes, " I had only looked 
on the Princess as a little girl, without paying the least 
attention to her conduct, but now I felt that it was time to 
uphold the privileges and dignity of my rank." The result 
was a fine wrangle between Mademoiselle and her aunt, Anne 
of Austria, who scolded her niece roundly for her impertin- 
ence, and was extremely angry when Mademoiselle appealed 
to the Cardinal to defend her cause. The end of it all was, 
that Mademoiselle quarrelled with both her aunt and Monsieur, 
and refused to visit the English royal family, until Plenrietta 
Maria, satisfied with the Court's decision in her daughter's 
favour, waived the point and allowed the Princess to give her 
haughty cousin the honours to which she pretended. Another 
cause of Mademoiselle's ill-temper, which, as she owns, made 
her feel extremely dissatisfied with herself at this time, was 
the revival of the old discussions over the King of England's 
marriage. Now that he was on his throne again, she would 
gladly have welcomed back her once discarded suitor, and, as 
*she assures us, might have entered into negotiations with his 
mother through Madame de Motteville,had she been so minded. 
But since she had refused him in the day of exile and poverty, 
she was too proud to begin the wooing now. Charles on his 
part, had not the least intention of doing his imperious cousin 
the honour of asking her to be his wife a second time, and, 

E 



66 BETROTHAL OF HENRIETTA. 

although her fortune would have been very acceptable in his 
still needy condition, he quite declined to act on the hints 
which Mademoiselle took care to give him, 

" I greatly desire the marriage of Mademoiselle," wrote 
Lady Derby, in reply to a message from her sister-in-law, 
Madame de la Tr^mouille, " but the King has an aversion for 
it, on account of the contempt she has shown for him. I have 
spoken of her to the Marquis of Ormonde, but I meet with 
small encouragement." And again : " I have had Made- 
moiselle proposed, and I have some hopes. If the King 
thinks of riches, he could not have more than with Made- 
moiselle, which I would wish with all my heart, but I fear 
that, having been despised in his poverty, he would be unlikely 
now to contemplate such a match." 

Lady Derby's words proved correct, and Mademoiselle 
was left to console herself with the bitter reflection that " she 
had acted like a fool, and had only herself to thank." Mean- 
while, she had the mortification of seeing the petite fille she 
despised so much, already received by the young King and 
Queen as one of their own family. They came with Monsieur, 
two days after their state entry, to pay a visit to their aunt of 
lingland, at the Palais-Royal, and took the Princess in their 
carriage for a drive through Paris. Ten days later, the 
Cardinal gave one of his sumptuous festivals in honour of 
Monsieur's betrothal, and entertained both royal families at 
a banquet, where Roman singers delighted them with their 
melodies, and Spanish players acted a comedy in their 
presence. That evening, instead of arriving with the French 
royalties, Monsieur entered the room in the company of his 
future bride and mother-in-law, and as he led the fair young 
Princess, robed in pure white, by the hand, through the 
Cardinal's brilliantly-lighted gallery, an eye-witness describes 
her, as looking, for all the world, like his guardian angel. 

Monsieur was now very impatient to hasten the marriage, 
and showed himself so ardent a lover, that his brother the 
King laughed at him openly, and teased him, by saying that 
he need not be in so great a hurry to marry the bones of the 
Holy Innocents. " It is true," observes the jealous Made- 
moiselle, " that the Princess was excessively thin, yet it must 



HENRIETTA'S PORTRAIT. 67 

be owned that she was extremely amiable. There was a 
pecuh'ar grace in all her actions, and she was so courteous, that 
everyone who approached her, was charmed." And Madame 
de Motteville, always careful and accurate in her descriptions, 
speaks of Henrietta in the following terms: — 

" The Princess of England was above middle height ; she 
was very graceful, and her figure, which was not faultless, did 
not appear as imperfect as it really was. Her beauty was not 
of the most perfect kind, but her charming manners made her 
very attractive. She had an extremely delicate and very 
white skin, with a bright, natural colour, a complexion, so to 
speak, of roses and jasmine. Her ^ycs were small, but very 
soft and sparkling, her nose not bad, her lips were rosy, and 
her teeth as white and regular as you could wish, but her face 
was too long, and her great thinness seemed to threaten her 
beauty with early decay. She dressed her hair and whole 
person in a most becoming manner, and she was so lovable 
in herself, that she could not fail to please. She had not been 
able to become Queen, but, to make up for this disappoint- 
ment, she wished to reign in the hearts of all good people, by 
the charm of her person, and the real beauty of her soul. She 
had already shown much perception and good sense, and, 
although her youth had kept her hidden from public gaze, it 
was easy to see that, when she appeared on the great theatre 
of the Court of France, she would play one of the leading 
parts there." 

Before the marriage could be celebrated, however, Henri- 
etta Maria had determined to take her daughter on a visit to 
England. One object of her intended journey was to secure 
the payment of her own jointure, and of a dowry for the 
Princess. The other was to prevent the Duke of York's 
public recognition of his marriage with Anne Hyde, the 
Chancellor's daughter, and till lately maid-of-honour to the 
Princess Royal. This secret union, which had taken place in 
Flanders during the previous year, was a source of bitter 
annoyance to the royal family, especially the Princess of 
Orange and the Queen. The Duke was deeply attached to 
his wife, but he listened to slanderous reports, prompted by 
the malice and envy of her enemies, and after his return to 



68 DEATH OF THE DUKE OF GLOUCESTER. 

England, he refused to see the unfortunate Duchess, and 
allowed her to be kept a prisoner in her father's house. The 
Queen, who bore no good-will to Clarendon and his family, 
was loud in her denunciations of her daughter-in-law's con- 
duct. She told Charles II. that she would leave no stone 
unturned, to annul a marriage that would bring so great dis- 
honour on the Crown, and declared that if " the woman " 
entered Whitehall by one door, she would leave it by another. 
Henrietta Maria was anxious the Princess Royal should join 
her in Paris and proceed with her to England, but Charles, 
eager to enjoy the presence of the sister who had been so 
generous a friend in his days of exile, urged her to come 
straight to London. As usual, Mary found herself torn in 
pieces by these opposite entreaties, and wrote in pathetic 
terms to Charles, begging to be allowed to obey her mother. 
" For God's sake, agree between you what I have to do, for I 
know what it is to displease both of you. God keep me from 
it again!" But Charles insisted, and this time the Queen- 
mother had to give way, and to content herself with the pro- 
spect of a happy family meeting, before long, in England. 

So this affectionate Princess set sail for England on the 
20th of September, in high spirits at the thought of seeing 
her brother, and setting foot once more in her native land. 
But hardly had she started, than an express arrived with the 
sad news of the 'Duke of Gloucester's death. The blow was 
a heavy one to the Princess, who was tenderly attached to 
her youngest brother, and there was general lamentation in 
England over the early death of this promising young Prince. 

" The Duke of Gloucester has been ill with small-pox," 
wrote Lady Derby, on the 12th of September (O.S.), " but by 
the grace of God the worst is over. He is a Prince of great 
promise." Five days later she wrote again : — " We lost His 
Highness the Duke of Gloucester, yesterday, after all the 
doctors had judged him out of danger. It is a great loss ; 
the Prince had a mind that cannot be too highly valued." 
On the 22d she alludes to Mary's arrival in England. " The 
Princess Royal arrived yesterday. She was on the sea when 
she learnt her bitter loss, which is one of the greatest the 
King and his people could sustain ; and wc all individually 



HENRIETTA'S GRIEF. 69 

feel it deeply. He had very remarkable qualities, which 
would have rendered him one of the greatest men of the 
age." 

To the Queen, the shock of her youngest son's death was 
embittered by the remembrance of her last parting from him, 
and of the severity with which she had sent away the brave 
youth, whose face she was never to see again. His sister 
wept bitterly for her old playmate, and in a touching little 
note written from Colombes to her brother, the King, on the 
loth of October, she thus alludes to their mutual loss : — 

" Since I wrote to you, so cruel a misfortune has happened 
to us that, up to this hour, I have shrunk from mentioning it, 
and even now I hardly know I}Ow to find words to express 
what I feel. You know by your own sorrow, all the greatness 
of my own, and for the rest, I think the best is to keep 
silence, which I mean to do, when I have told you that what 
I most long for now, is to have the joy of seeing you. This, I 
hope, will be very soon, and then I can show you how truly 
I am your very humble servant. Everyone may say the 
same to you, but I am sure those are few who mean it as truly 
as I do." 

The Princess of Orange had been received in London 
with great public rejoicings, and was welcomed as she de- 
served to be, by all who had shared her bounty and kindness' 
during their years of exile. Now, only the Queen and Prin- 
cess Henrietta's presence was needed to complete what Sir 
William Davenant called, " the matchless number of the 
Royal Race ; '' and the poets who sang odes in honour of the 
Princess Royal began to ask, in their courtly strains, when 
her princely sister and her mother-queen would be here. 
Especial curiosity was felt with regard to the young Princess, 
whose charms had already made a sensation at the Court 
of France. The fame of her loveliness had been lately ex- 
tolled by M. de la Serre, the Court Gazetteer, who, in a 
flattering portrait of Henrietta, dedicated to Monsieur, had 
pronounced that there was nothing under the sun to equal 
her. After praising her hair, her brow, her eyes, he goes on 
to say that the beauty of her soul can only be compared with 
that of her countenance. " She speaks so agreeably, that it is 



yo LA FONTAINE'S ODE. 

as pleasant to hear her as to see her. In singing, who can 
equal her? In other accomplishments she is unrivalled. 
Who can express her goodness, grace, and sweetness and 
wisdom ? She possesses a thousand other qualities ; the 
least among them all is that of being born a princess." It 
was in high-flown terms of this kind, that the Comte de 
Soissons, who arrived in England towards the end of October, 
made a formal demand on the part of the King, his master, 
and Monsieur, for the Princess's hand. Charles received the 
ambassador graciously, and the terms of the marriage con- 
tract were drawn up. Some uneasiness was created in 
Monsieur's mind, by a report that the Emperor Leopold II. 
had sent an envoy to Whitehall to ask for Henrietta's hand, 
and Lady Derby wrote to Madame de la Tr^mouiUe, that 
Prince Rupert had just arrived, charged with the same errand. 
Mademoiselle was furious when she heard this. That the 
Emperor, whose alliance she had so ardently coveted, should 
prefer a mere child to her, with all her wealth, was beyond 
belief. Her jealousy would have been still fiercer, had she 
known that two other royal suitors, to whose hand she had 
aspired — the King of Portugal and the Duke of Savoy — were 
about to make similar proposals to Charles II. Thus the 
Princess, whom she had despised, was literally sought after by 
many kings, " recherchtfe de tant de roiSy' as Bossuet says in his 
Oraison, and as La Fontaine sings in the ode which he com- 
posed for Henrietta's marriage. 

" Que de princes amoureux 
Ont brigud son hymende. 
Elle a refusd leurs vceux, 
Pour Philippe elle etait nde; 
Pour lui seul elle a quittd 
Le Portugais indompte, 
Roi des terres inconnues, 
Le voisin du fier croissant, 
Et de nos Alpes chenues 
Le monarque florissant, 
Philippe est un bien si doux, 
Que c'est le seul qui I'enflamme, 
Sous les cieux que voyons-nous 
Qui soit du prix de son ame .-' 



JOURNEY TO ENGLAND. 7 1 

Les hdritidres des rois 
Ont souhait^ mille fois, 
D'en faire la destinde ; 
C'est un plus glorieux sort 
Que de se voir couronnde 
Reine des sources de Tor." 

But Charles II. was apparently satisfied with the marriage 
already arranged for his sister, and never seems to have 
entertained the.se more splendid proposals. On the 8th 
of November, the Comte de Soissons writes : — " As for the 
marriage of Monsieur with the Princess of England, I regard 
it rather as a family and domestic matter, than as an affair 
of state. The King talks so publicly about it every daj', 
and sees all its advantages so clearly, that there is scarcely 
any doubt about the matter, but on the contrary, the utmost 
certainty that it will take place. The sight of the Princess 
will strengthen the King's resolve still more, for, as His 
Majesty loves his sister extremely, and knows that to give 
her to Monsieur, is to make her happy, he will never enter- 
tain any other thought, although the Emperor's cousin, who 
has just arrived here, and Prince Rupert, who still remains, 
have proposed a match with the Emperor for her, and cer- 
tainly hoped to break off that of Monsieur. But the King of 
England knows, from his own judgment, that it is both the 
best for his own interests, and for the life-long happiness of 
the Princess, that she should marry Monsieur." 

Meanwhile, the Queen and Princess were both on their 
way to England. They left Paris on the 29th of October, 
and were sped on their way by the French royal family, in- 
cluding Monsieur, who took a very reluctant leave of his 
future bride, and begged the Queen to bring her back 
speedily. The travellers were greeted with royal honours at 
Beauvais, where they spent All Saints' Day, and attended 
mass in the Cathedral. At Calais, they found the Duke of 
York awaiting them with a fine squadron of ships, and 
going on board his flag-ship, they set sail for Dover on the 
6th of November. Unfortunately, there was a dead calm, 
and two whole days were spent in crossing the Channel. As 
soon as they were in sight of Dover, the King advanced to 



72 ARRIVAL IN LONDON. 

meet his mother, and welcomed her and his sister with the 
warmest embraces. At Dover Castle, the Princess Royal 
and Prince Rupert were awaiting them, and the whole of the 
Royal Family sat down to a banquet in the great hall, which 
was thronged with a crowd of eager people. Pere Cyprien 
de Gamaches, who accompanied the Queen, gives an amus- 
ing account of the strange sights and novel experiences of 
this journey, which was a great event in his quiet life. The 
sight of the gallant ships hung with gay streamers, " thick as 
leaves on forest trees,'' the "' marvellously loud and delightful 
thunder of the guns," the feast prepared on board by the 
Duke of York, and His Highness's kindness in providing 
him and the Queen's French servants with fish for their fast- 
day, are all minutely recounted. But what gratified him most, 
was the dismay and horror on the faces of the townsmen of 
Dover, most of them Puritans and Trevibleiirs (Quakers), 
when he stood up boldly at the King's table to recite a Latin 
grace, and make " a great sign of the Cross." The act was 
hardly politic at such a time. Still less so was the celebra- 
tion of high mass in the Castle Hall, at which he officiated 
on the following morning. But, in the enthusiasm of the 
moment, these things were allowed to pass unnoticed. The 
Royal Family drove through Canterbury to Rochester, where 
they slept, and then, by the Queen's express wish, instead of 
joining the royal barges at Gravesend, and making their 
triumphal entry up the Thames, they only took boat at 
Lambeth and crossed over to Whitehall. 

"On the second day of November (N. S., 12th)," says the 
Merciirius Redivivus, "the Queen, the King's mother, and the 
Princess Henrietta came into London, for that the Queen had 
left this land nineteen years before, her coming was very 
private, Lambeth way, where the King, the Queen, Duke of 
York, JVince Edward (the son of the Queen of Bohemia), and 
the rest took water at Lambeth, crossed the Thames, and all 
safely arrived at Whitehall ; and that night, in many places 
bells rang, and in some streets bonfires, and here and there 
shows of joy. Her coming, not through the city, was one 
great reason that no more joy was made, for many did scarcely 
know that indeed she was at Whitehall that night." 



WHITEHALL. 71 

The river was thronged with boats, and Pepys, who spent 
sixpence on rowing up to the royal barge, conn plained he could 
see nothing, and went home out of temper, declaring that there 
were but three fires in the city, to welcome the Queen, and 
that "her coming did not please anyone." But Lady Derby 
gives a very different account to her sister-in-law. " I have 
to beg you a thousand pardons, for not having told you be- 
fore of the Queen's arrival, which took place last Friday, 
to everybody's delight, with the acclamations of the whole 
nation. I saw her on her arrival and kissed her hand. She 
met me with much emotion and received mc with tears and 
great kindness. You may imagine what I felt. Her Majesty 
charms all who see her, and her courtesy cannot be enough 
praised. She has constantly received visitors since she came, 
without having left her room." 

The meeting between the widowed Queen and the 
Countess, whose lord had died in the King's service, was a 
pathetic incident in that day's festival, and the thought of 
all that had passed in the years since they had last met, may 
well have moved them both to tears. 

The sight of the familiar scenes where the best days of 
her life had been spent, naturally stirred the Queen deeply. 
She wept at the sight of the Banqueting-hall, and called her- 
self ''la reine inalheureuse." But to the young Princess, this 
visit to England was one of unmixed delight. No bitter 
memories came to darken her joy. All was fresh, new and 
bright. To find herself one of a merry family party was a 
novel and delicious experience. In the company of her kind 
elder sister and affectionate brothers, she forgot the gap 
which death had so lately made in their circle, and became 
as gay and joyous as of old. " The grief of princes," 
observed Lady Derby, " does not last long. They have so 
many things to occupy them, that they soon forget their 
sorrows." And life was smiling very radiantly just then on 
this Princess of sixteen years. She saw herself feted and 
caressed on all sides, petted by her royal brother, and 
admired by the Avhole Court. " Our young Princess," wrote 
Lady Derby, " is all you said she was." Evelyn, who had 
hastened to kiss the Queen-mother's hand, was charmed with 



74 HENRIETTAS ADMIRERS. 

the Princess's courtesy, and with the gracious manner with 
which she thanked his wife "for the character she had pre- 
sented her and which was afterwards printed." Even Pepys, 
who declared that the Queen had lost all her looks and was 
nothing but a little plain old woman, allows that the Princess 
Henrietta is very pretty, although he objects to her fashion 
of wearing her hair frizzed short up to her ears, and is of 
opinion that his own wife, who stood near her, " well-dressed, 
with the unwonted decoration of two or three black patches 
on her face, did seem to him much handsomer than she." 
One brilliant gentleman at Court, the same Duke of Bucking- 
ham, who had formerly dared to aspire to the hand of the 
widowed Princess Royal, now professed himself the devoted 
adorer of Henrietta, and loved her too well for his own peace 
of mind. People flocked to see her in the streets and at the 
palace gates. Balls and supper parties and theatrical enter- 
tainments were given for her amusement. During the few 
weeks that she remained in town, she received the most 
varied tokens of the admiration which her presence excited. 
Soon the whole country was in love with the youthful 
Princess. Sonnets were composed in her honour. Books 
were dedicated to her. There is a singular dialogue, written 
by one Thomas Toll, called "The Female Duel, or the 
Ladies' Looking-Glass, representing a Scripture Combat, 
about business of Religion, fairly carried on between a 
Roman Catholic Lady and the wife of a dignified person in 
the Church of England," which was inscribed to " our two 
incomparable Princesses, one in affection, though different, it 
may be, in some persuasion." The House of Commons sent 
an address of congratulation on her arrival, with a present of 
10,000 jacobuses, upon which Henrietta wrote a graceful 
letter of thanks to the Speaker, begging him to excuse her 
want of facility in the English tongue, but assuring him that 
she had not lost her English heart. 

The Comte de Soissons' secretary, M. Bartet, owned him- 
self a victim to her charms, like everyone else, and gives us 
more than one fascinating glimpse of the Princess, in his 
despatches to Cardinal Mazarin. One day, it was the ver)- 
ckiy after her arrival, when she was too wearied to appear at 



THE MARRIAGE TREATY. 75 

her mother's reception, he was allowed to follow the Count, 
whom the King himself led into his sister's apartments. 
There he saw her in her cornette (mob-cap), wrapped in a 
cotton morning robe of a thousand colours, playing at ombre 
with the Duke of York and the Princess of Orange. " You 
can tell Monsieur,' he adds, " that he never saw her more- 
beautiful in full dress, than she appeared to me at that moment. 
Even on the day when I saw him leading her through your 
gallery, and told her that she was as lovely as his little 
guardian angel, she was scarcely as fair as she looked, sitting 
there in her mob-cap and coloured print gown, at Whitehall." 

Another time he adds a hurried postscript at the end of 
a letter. It is eleven o'clock at night and M. de la Feuillade 
has been sent to summon him to Whitehall. " He tells me 
the Princess has just won a bracelet worth 200 jacobuses, and 
that she spoke with him of the news from Paris, and how we 
hear Monsieur is very melancholy, and cannot sleep, and has 
grown quite thin in her absence, upon which he replied that 
the only remedy for his ills was in her hands." 

The French Secretary apparently found his stay at the 
English Court exceedingly pleasant, and was well content to 
remain there, as he did, for some time after the Count's de- 
parture. The King's easy good-nature delighted him, and 
he was quite surprised to find how affably he treated M. de 
Soissons, living with him on the most cordial terms, just as 
any ordinary person might do, with an old friend. In his 
eyes, Charles was, what Lady Derby thought him when she 
met him on the stairs of her house — " the most charming 
Prince in the world." 

The preliminary formalities had now been arranged, and 
the Secretary reports how^ on the 22d of November, the 
Count had the honour of a royal audience, in which he re- 
peated his demand and asked for the Princess's hand in 
marriage, on behalf of the King of France and Monsieur. 
" Sa Majesty Britannique," he adds, " granted the request in 
the most gracious manner possible, and afterwards spoke to 
the Count about our King, in a way not to be forgotten." B}' 
the marriage treat)', which had been agreed upon, Charles 
promised to give his sister a dowry of 40,000 jacobuses, and 



76 THE MARRIAGE TREATY. 

a further present of i^20,ooo towards the expenses of her 
marriage and as a token of his great affection, while Louis 
XIV. and his brother agreed to settle 40,000 Hvres a year on 
the Princess for her hfe, and to give her the Chateau de 
Montargis, magnificently furnished, for her residence. The 
arrangements necessary for the completion of the mar- 
riage contract were left to Lord St. Albans, who was sent 
to France to watch over the Princess's interests, and form her 
household. Charles showed his satisfaction with the French 
Ambassador, by presenting him with a valuable box, bearing 
his own portrait set in diamonds, and the Countess, his wife, 
Olympia Mancini, with a very handsome diamond ring. The 
Duke of Buckingham entertained the Count and his whole 
suite sumptuously two nights running, after which they left 
England, very well satisfied with the King and his Court. 
Hardly had they taken their departure than a great Italian 
Prince, the Marquis Pallavicino, arrived on a special mission 
from Charles Emmanuel, Duke of Savoy, to ask the King of 
England for his sister's hand. But he soon found out that he 
had come too late, and could only express his infinite regret, 
when he heard that the English Princess was already pro- 
mised to another and less tardy suitor. Our friend Bartet 
chuckled not a little over the Italian magnified s discomfiture, 
and was delighted when the Princess herself told him laugh- 
ingly that the coming of Monsieur de Savoie's envoy had not 
in the least disturbed her night's rest. And he adds, with a 
spice of malice, " I know not what Mademoiselle, in her 
Palace of the Luxembourg, will say, when she hears of this." 



C H A P T E R VI 
1660 — 166 [ 

Death of the Princess of Orange — Illness of the Princess Henrietta — Her Return to 
Paris — Her Marriage with Monsieur celebrated at the Palais-Royal. 

"Christmas," writes Father Cyprian in the journal of his 
visit to England, " is always observed in this country, 
especially in the King's palaces, with greater pomp than in 
any other realm of Europe." He goes on to describe the 
ancient custom, then still in use, of bringing a branch of 
the Glastonbury thorn, which blossomed on Christmas Eve, 
to be solemnly presented to the King at this festival. Great 
preparations were now made to celebrate Christmas at Charles 
II.'s Court. After the long years of Puritan rule, the old 
days of Merry England seemed to have come back once 
more, and, in spite of Monsieur's urgent messages, the Queen 
and Princess delayed their return to France, in order to spend 
this time-honoured feast at Whitehall, in true old English 
fashion. Suddenly, in the midst of these rejoicings, the 
Princess Royal fell dangerously ill of smallpox. The 
greatest alarm was felt, owing to the recent death of the 
Duke of Gloucester, and the Queen-mother hastily removed 
her darling child, Henrietta, to St. James's Palace, to avoid 
infection. She herself was extremely anxious to remain with 
her sick daughter, but her physician would not hear of this, 
and the King, dreading the revival of his mother's attempts 
to convert the Princess Royal at this critical moment, induced 
her, for Henrietta's sake, not to expose herself to the risk of 
infection. 

On the evening of the 20th of December, the very day on 
which her sister's illness was declared to be smallpox, Henri- 

77 



yS DEATH OF THE PRINCESS OF ORANGE. 

etta received an affectionate little note from her brother, who 
would not come to see her at St. James's Palace, since he was 
in constant attendance at the Princess Royal's bedside. 

" The kindnesse I have for you will not permit me to loose 
this occasion to coniure you to continue your kindnesse to a 
brother that loves you more than he can expresse, which 
truth I hope you are so well persuaded of, as I may expect 
those returnes which I shall strive to deserve. Deare sister, be 
kinde to me, and be confident that I am intirely yours. — C. R. 
For my Deare Sister, the Princesse Henriette." 

Two days later there was a temporary improvement in the 
Princess Royal's condition, the fever diminished, the eruption 
came out fully, and Lord Craven, who paid her a visit, wrote 
to the Queen of Bohemia that good hopes of her recovery 
were entertained. But, after the fatal practice of those times, 
the Court doctors seized the opportunity to bleed their patient 
repeatedly. She became rapidly weaker, and feeling herself 
at the point of death, received the Sacrament, and made her 
will with perfect self-possession and clearness of mind > 

" My last told you of the Princess Royal's illness," wrote 
Lady Derby on the 24th of December, " and now, with much 
grief, I have to tell you she is at the point of death, and 1 
fear she may have passed away by this time. Good people 
will be glad to know that on the third day of her illness, feel- 
ing some weakness, she asked for a cordial that she might 
have strength to receive the Sacrament, of which she partook 
with great devotion, and perfect confidence in her salvation, 
and when the King burst into tears, she spoke of death with- 
out fear or emotion. She recommended to him her son, for 
whose sake alone she wished for life, if it was God's will, 
and the cordial having given her a little strength, she desired 
to make her will, which she did with great patience and in a 
very Christian spirit. This was on Friday at 5 o'clock in 
the morning ; she was better on Saturday, and on Sunday 
they thought her out of danger." 

Before the letter was closed, the dreaded news had come, 
and the next day Lady Derby added the following lines : — 
" The Princess died at noon, and when she was not in convul- 
sions was quite 'sensible. I have just come from visiting the 



DEATH OF THE PRINCESS OF ORANGE. 79 

Oueen, who is much distressed. I saw her. The Princess 
changed her lodging from Whitehall to St. James's, where 
she is at present, and was very well yesterday. All these 
losses in the Royal Family grieve and shock their friends. 
May it please God to withdraw His hand, and preserve those 
who remain to us, and protect the King, and guide him 
through all dangers. In truth, our Princess was an excellent 
person. All the good and rare qualities she possessed were 
natural endowments, for she had had her own way from 
childhood, those about her having thought more of their own 
interests, than of what was good for her, or proper for her 
position." And the young Lord Chesterfield, whose mother 
had been the Princess Royal's most devoted attendant through- 
out her life, and who was himself present at her death-bed, 
speaks with admiration of her " unconcernedness, constanc}^ 
of mind and resolution, which well became the grandchild of 
Henri Quatre." 

The sudden death of this Princess, at the early age of 
twenty-nine, threw a gloom over the whole country. " This 
day," writes Evelyn in his diary, on that sad Christmas Eve, 
" died the Princess of Orange, which wholly altered the face 
and gallantry of the whole Court." 

" All things that we ordained festival 
Turn from their office to black funeral." 

The corpse was removed to Somerset House, and after 
lying in state there during five days, was borne in solemn 
procession, on the night of the 29th of December, by the 
Duke of York and all the great officers of the Crown, to 
Westminster Abbey. There the Princess of Orange was 
buried, according to her dying wish, in the royal vault of 
Henry VH.'s Chapel, by the side of her young brother, Henry 
of Gloucester. 

Hardly had the lamented Princess breathed her last, than 
pressing letters arrived from Monsieur, who, in his alarm on 
hearing of her illness, had serit over his own inattre at hotel, to 
implore the Queen to bring away her daughter without delay. 
There was nothing to stop them now. The marriage pre- 
liminaries were satisfactorily arranged, and the difficult ques- 



8o THE DUCHESS OF YORK. 

tion of the Queen's own jointure had been settled. The 
Parliament agreed to make her a yearly allowance of ;^30,ooo, 
while the King promised her an equal sum from his privy 
purse, on the express understanding that she was to return to 
England after her daughter's marriage, and take up her abode 
at Somerset House. Only one thing more remained to be 
done. This was the recognition of the Duke of York's mar- 
riage, on which point the Queen-mother had as yet shown 
herself inflexible. Soon after her arrival in England, the 
unfortunate Duchess had given birth to a son, whom the 
Duke of York had recognised as his child, and the King as 
heir-presumptive to the Crown. The calumnies, which had 
been circulated to injure her character, were proved to be false, 
and the King, who had throughout maintained his sister-in- 
law's innocence, himself led the Duke into his wife's presence. 
On her death-bed, the Princess of Orange had professed her 
own deep regret at her unkindness to her late maid-of-honour, 
and, following her example, the Queen now announced that 
she was ready to forgive and receive her daughter-in-law. 
Accordingly, in spite of her deep mourning, Henrietta Maria 
gave a farewell audience at Whitehall, on the New Year's 
Day, and when the Duchess, led in by her husband, sank on 
her knees before her, she raised her graciously and kissed her. 
The Princess Henrietta next embraced her sister-in-law, but 
so great was the crowd, that the Queen, fearful of danger from 
the smallpox then prevalent, desired her to leave the room. 
"The Queen," says Clarendon, "received her daughter-in-law 
as if she had approved the marriage from the beginning, and 
very kindly made her sit down by her." The whole Royal 
Family dined that day in public, after their habit on great 
occasions, and Father Cyprian records how he and the King's 
chaplain both had to force their way through the crowds who 
thronged the doorways. To the priest's great delight, the 
English minister stumbled and fell down, so that Father 
Cyprian reached the Royal table first, and said the Latin 
grace long before his rival could begin. This incident caused 
much merriment among the gentlemen who stood behind the 
King's chair, and they told his Majesty, that his chaplain and 
the Queen's priest had run a race, to see who would say grace 



RETURN TO FRANCE. 8 1 

first, but that the poor chaplain had been tumbled over, and 
so the priest had won ! 

On the following day, the Queen and Princess set out on 
their journey, and slept that night at Hampton Court, where 
the King joined them the next morning, and conducted them 
to Portsmouth. Here they embarked on board the London, 
a man-of-war commanded by the Earl of Sandwich, and, tak- 
ing tender leave of Charles, set sail for France on the 9th of 
January. The grief of the Court was general at their de- 
parture, and Lady Derby speaks warmly of " our adorable 
Princess," and of the favourable impression which her simple 
and winning manners had made in England. She had formed 
a close friendship with Lady Derby's young married daughter, 
Lady Strafford, and had promised her a portrait of herself, in 
payment of a wager which she had lost. Her mother begs 
her niece, Mademoiselle de la Tremouille, a great friend of 
Henrietta's at the French Court, to remind the Princess of 
this, in case she should forget the honour which she had done 
her cousin. At the last moment, the Duke of Buckingham, 
unwilling to tear himself away from his adored mistress, 
obtained the King's leave to accompany the Queen to France. 
Unfortunately, Henrietta's usual bad luck did not fail to 
accompany her, and her journey this time seemed likely to 
prove more disastrous than ever. The day after her departure, 
a violent storm sprang up, and, owing to the pilot's negligence, 
the ship ran aground on the Horse Sand, and was compelled 
to put back into harbour. To add to the consternation of 
those on board, the Princess fell suddenly ill, and for some 
days it was feared that her illness would prove to be small- 
pox. The Queen was in an agony of grief, and Buckingham 
gave way to a passionate outburst of anger. Happily, at the 
end of a few da}'s, her illness was pronounced to be a severe 
attack of measles. She was borne on shore, and during the 
next fortnight remained dangerously ill at Portsmouth. The 
King sent his own physician to attend his sister, but her 
attendants were firmly convinced that their "dear Princess" 
owed her life to her own resolution in refusing to allow the 
doctors to bleed her, as they had done in the case of her 
unfortunate brother and sister. 



82 RETURN TO FRANCE. 

Monsieur sent another express to Portsmouth, and the 
Queen-mother despatched one of her [gentlemen, with anxious 
inquiries after the Princess's health. By the 25th of January 
she had sufficiently recovered to start on the journey. This 
time the royal travellers reached Havre safely, and were 
received with great enthusiasm by the people.' The Queen 
decided to remain there some days to give the Princess a 
little rest, but by this time, Buckingham's attentions had be- 
come so annoying, that he was ordered to go on to Paris at 
once, and inform Monsieur of the Queen's safe arrival. Since 
the smallpox was raging at Rouen, the Queen would not pass 
through the city, but accepted the hospitality of her cousin, 
the Due de Longuevillc, then Governor of Normandy, who 
entertained the travellers royally, and escorted them to 
T^ontoise. Here they alighted at the ancient Abbey of St 
Martin, and paid Abbe Montagu the honour of a visit. While 
the Grand Almoner was doing the honours of his abbey, and 
showing the Queen his pictures and treasures, a flourish of 
trumpets was heard at the convent gates, and presently the 
King rode up with his young Queen and Monsieur, who had 
come from Saint-Germain to welcome the travellers on their 
return. The King and Queen were full of kindness for their 
aunt, while Monsieur could not contain his joy at the sight of 
his long-expected bride. He could hnrdly take his eyes off 
her, kissed her tenderly, and listened with delight to every 
word that fell from her lips. It was late before the royal 
party left the abbey, and the following morning Monsieur 
returned again to escort his bride and her mother to Paris. 
Their Majesties, accompanied this time by Mademoiselle and 
the whole Court, and attended by a body of guards, met them 
at Saint-Denis, and conducted them with great pomp to the 
I'alais Royal. A ballet entitled Llinpatience dcs Anwurenx, 
and full of playful allusions to Monsieur's suit, which the King 
had prepared expressly in honour of the Princess's return, was 
acted at Court that week. Gui Patin remarks on the perform- 
ance, in his letters, and speaks of the rejoicings which hailed 
the arrival of "the Queen of England and her fair daughter, 
now about to wed the Due d'Orl6ans." 

.^fter receiving visits from the Princes of the blood and 



MAZARIN DIES. 83 

chief personages in Paris, the Queen and Princess retired to 
Chaillot, to spend the first days of Lent in seclusion, and to 
await the coming of the Papal dispensation, which was required 
for the marriage of first-cousins. There was some delay in 
obtaining this, owing to a technical error on the part of the 
I'rench diplomatists, and the Papal brief did not arrive until 
the 9th of March. On that very day, Cardinal Mazarin died 
at Vincennes. He had long been failing, but clung with 
strange tenacity to life, and, as he lay slowly dying, in the 
midst of so many splendid and luxurious surroundings, he was 
heard to murmur with a sigh, as he looked around him : " And 
must I leave all this? Gtienand Va dzt." But the cynical 
philosophy of his nature soon revived. Me told the King that 
he had no fear of death, and quoted the lines of his favourite 
Horace : — 

*■ Si fractiis illnbatur orbis 
Impavidum ferient ruiiiii:." 

And when he was told by his attendants, that a comet, sure 
presage of coming evil, had suddenly appeared in the heavens, 
he observed, with his old irony : " The comet does me too much 
honour." 

He had been more feared than loved, and few lamented 
him. " Mazarin is alread}^ forgotten," writes our satirical friend 
Gui Patin, " // est passe, il a plie bagage, ilest en plomb, F eminent 
personage. And now people speak only of his will, of his 
gold, and of the millions which he has left behind him." And 
he goes on to wonder if, as is reported, I'Abbe Montagu, who 
was so high in Anne of Austria's favour, will be the next prime 
minister. " After having an honest Italian to reign over us 
for so many years," he adds, " it will be a singular good for- 
tune if an Englishman is kind enough to govern France." 
The Court, however, paid the Cardinal the honour of going 
into mourning for a fortnight, and, to Monsieur's vexation, 
his wedding was again dela^'ed. Meanwhile he was much 
annoyed by the attentions which Buckingham persisted in 
paying to the Princess, and Henrietta herself, seeing his 
displeasure, begged her mother to deliver her from the Duke's 
too"'openly-expressed admiration. The Queen laughed at the 



84 MARRIAGE OF HENRIETTA. 

notion, and told Monsieur that Buckingham merely made 
himself ridiculous, and that the Princess only tolerated his 
conduct because he was her brother's favourite. Monsieur's 
jealousy, however, made him carry his complaint to the Queen- 
mother of France, who wisely advised her sister-in-law to give 
the King of England a hint, and beg him to recall the Duke. 
This was soon done, and that troublesome personage left Paris, 
not without many protestations of his hopeless but undying 
devotion to the object of his worship. In Monsieur's present 
frame of mind, it was plain that further delays would be in- 
expedient, and in spite of the Lenten season, both the Queen- 
mothers agreed that the marriage had better take place at 
once. All state was dispensed with, owing to the near 
approach of Passion-tide, and the deep mourning of the 
English royal family, and the wedding was solemnised in 
the quietest manner possible. 

On Wednesday the 30th of March, the marriage contract 
was signed at the Louvre, by the King and both the Queens 
of France and Monsieur, on the one part, and on the other by 
Lord St. Albans in his royal master's name. That morning, the 
Princess Henrietta received absolution and Holy Communion 
at Saint-Eustache, the parish church of the Palais-Royal, 
whilq Monsieur performed his devotions at Saint -Germain 
I'Auxerrois. In the evening, the betrothal took place in the 
great saloon of the Palais-Royal, in the presence of the King 
and Queen, and the two Queen-mothers. Mademoiselle and 
her sisters, the Prince and Princess of Cond6 and their young 
son the Due d'Enghien, the Due de Venddme, another Prince 
of the blood royal, the Prince and Princess Palatine, the Earl 
of St. Albans and a few other lords and ladies of exalted rank,, 
were also among the guests. Mademoiselle tells us that the 
dresses worn on this occasion were of rare splendour, and 
that the bride herself was most richly adorned and elegantly 
dressed. 

At twelve o'clock on the following day, the marriage was 
solemnised in the Queen of England's chapel by M. de Cosnac, 
Bishop of Valence and Grand Almoner to Monsieur, in the 
presence of the same illustrious company. That evening the 
King and Queen supped with the bride and bridegroom at the 



MARRIAGE OF HENRIETTA. 85 

l\ilais-Royal, and the Queen of England did the honours 
with her accustomed grace and dignity. The following re- 
cord of the marriage was inscribed in the register of Saint- 
Eustache : — 

"On Wednesday, March 30, 1661, in the Chateau of the 
Palais-Royal, situated in our own parish, was celebrated before 
Monseigneur Daniel de Cosnac, Bishop and Comte de Valence 
et de Brie, by our consent and in our presence, the betrothal 
of the most high and mighty Prince Philippe, fils de France, 
Due d'Orleans, the King's only brother, of the parish of St. 
Germain I'Auxerrois, and of the most high and mighty 
Princess Henrietta Anne of England, only sister of the King 
of Great Britain, our parishioner. And on the following day, 
the 31st of the said month, the marriage of the said lord and 
lady was solemnised in the Chapel of the said Palace, by the 
said lord Bishop, in our presence and with our consent, under 
the good pleasure of the King, of the Queen, His Majesty's 
mother, and of my said Lord the Due d'Orleans, of the 
Queen Regent, of the Queen-mother of the King of Great 
Britain, of my said Lady, the Princess Henrietta Anne of 
P'^ngland, in the presence also of Mademoiselle, of Mesde- 
moiselles d'Orleans, of M. le Prince and Madame la Princesse, 
of the Due d'Enghien and many other princes and princesses 
and lords and ladies of the Court. This was done under a 
dispensation for banns unproclaimed, and for the time being 
prohibited by the Church, dated the 28th of the present month 
and year, signed by Contes, Vicar-General, by my Lord 
Cardinal de Retz, Archbishop of Paris, and sealed with the 
seal of the said Archbishop, the said dispensation making 
mention of the brief of Our Holy Father, the Pope, granting 
to the said parties a dispensation from the obstacle of the 
second degree of consanguinity and all others. 

" (Signed) Louis ; Anne ; Marie Th^rese ; Philippe ; Henri- 
ette Anne ; De Baufremont ; Antoine de Beaudoin, et Daniel 
de Cosnac, Eveque et Comte de Valence et de Brie." 

The Court gazetteers now broke into paeans of joy, and 
celebrated this union of the lilies of France and the rose of 



y6 MARRIAGE OF HENRIETTA. 

England, in torrents of rapturous song. They extoUea the 
loveHness of the bride and the virtues of the bridegroom, this 
perfect marriage of rank and beauty, and prophesied years of 
infinite bHss and harmony to the happy pair. La Fontaine 
sang, in strains of truer melody, the charms of this bride of 
sixteen summers. 

" Beaute sur toules insigne 
D'un prcfsent si procieux, 
Si la terre eiait indigne, 
C'est un don digne des cieux." 

He told anew the wondrous story of her birth in the midst 
of civil war and tumult, and of her escape across the seas. 
He sang how soft Zephyrs had wafted her, and Loves and 
Cherubs had followed her, to the shores of France, there 
to become the delight of the Sun-King's court. He praised 
not alone the beauty, but tlie wit and the grace which had 
charmed her royal lover's heart. 

" Si sa beaute le surprit, 
Des graces de son esprit 
De jour en jour il s'enflamme, 
La Princesse tient des cieux 
Du moins autant par son ame, 
Que par I't^clat de ses yeux.'' 

And he too foretold a destiny of immortal joys, awaiting the 
wedded pair, and bade them live and lo\'e for ever, with that 
constancy which can alone vanquish Time and Death. 

" Us sont joints ces jeunes coeurs. 
Qui du Ciel tirent leur race, 
Puissent-ils etre vainqueurs 
Des ans par qui tout s'efiface ! 
Que de leurs desirs constants. 
Dure h, jamais le piintemps, 
Rempli de jours agrcables. 
O couple aussi beau qu'hcureux, 
Vous serez toujours aimables ; 
Soyez toujours amoureux ! " 

On the day after the wedding, the King of France ad- 
dressed the following letter of congratulation to his brother of 
England : — 



MARRIAGE OF IIENRIEITA. iS/ 

'"Monsieur inoii frcrc, — Since I have always considered 
the marriage of my brother with your sister, the Princess of 
England, as a new tie which would draw still closer the bonds 
of our friendship, I feel more joy than I can express, that it 
was yesterday happily accomplished ; and as I doubt not 
that this news will inspire you with the same sentiments as I 
feel myself, I would not delay one moment to share my joy 
with you, nor would I lose the opportunity of this mutual 
congratulation, to tell }'ou that I am, my brother, very truly 
your good brother, LOUIS." 

On his death-bed, Cardinal Mazarin, conscious it may be 
that he had been unwise in neglecting to secure the friendshi[) 
of Charles II., had advised the young King to enter into a 
close alliance with England, a country wliich, in his opinion, 
was the natural ally of France. All through his reign, Louis 
XIV. remembered this piece of advice, and acted on the 
principle laid down by the dying Cardinal. The marriage of 
his brother with the sister of Charles II. was destined to form 
a strong bond of union between the two monarchs, and to 
produce great and lasting political effects, [n these develop- 
ments, the Princess Henrietta herself was soon to play an 
important part. 



CHAPTER VII 
1661 

i\ladanic at the Tviileiies and Saint-Cloud — Friendship of the King for Madame — ■ 
F&tes of the Court at Fontainebleau — Ballet des Saisoiis. 

From the moment of Madame's marriage, her triumphs 
began. The very day after her wedding, she received compli- 
mentary visits at the Palais-Royal, from the whole Court, and 
the exquisite beauty of her attire and the admirable grace 
M'ith which she entertained her guests, roused Mademoiselle to 
€:w\y and wonder. Up to this time, although she had occa- 
sionally figured in great Court assemblies, she had been 
seldom seen in private, excepting in her mother's apartments, 
where she hardly spoke, and appeared shy and silent. Now 
everyone who came to see her was surprised to find how 
agreeable she could be. The charms of her conversation and 
the graces of her person were the talk of the whole Court. 
Iiveryone praised her, and soon no one could speak or think 
of anything else. 

" Never," exclaims that finished courtier and man of the 
world, I'Abbtf de Choisy, " has France had a Princess as attrac- 
tive as Henriette d'Angieterre, when she became the wife of 
Monsieur. Never was there a Princess so fascinating, and so 
ready to please all who approached her. Her eyes were black 
and brilliant, full of the fire which kindles a prompt response 
in other hearts. Her whole person seemed full of charm. 
You felt interested in her, you loved her without being able to 
help yourself When you met her for the first time, her eyes 
sought your own, as if she had no other desire in the world 
but how best to please you. When she spoke, she appeared 
absorbed in the wish to oblige you. She had all the wit 

88 



MADAME. 89 

necessary to make a woman charming, and what is more, all 
the talent necessary for conducting important affairs, had this 
been required of lier. But at the Court of our young King 
in those days, pleasure was the order of the day, and to be 
charming was enough." 

Another courtier who knew her well in these early days of 
her jnarriage, the writer of a libel which afterwards made a 
great noise, speaks of her fascinating manners in almost the 
same terms. " There is a sweetness and gentleness about her, 
which no one can resist. When she speaks to you, she seems 
to ask for your heart at once, however trifling are the words 
that she has to say. Young as she is, her mind is vigorous 
and cultivated, her sentiments are great and noble, and the 
result of so many fine qualities is, that she seems rather an 
angel than a mortal creature. Do not think that I speak as 
a lover, for if I could make you realise half the charm of her 
wit and gaiety, you would agree with me, that she is the most 
adorable object on the face of the earth." 

But contemporary writers are unanimous on this point. 
They all in turn praise her dark and sparkling eyes, her pearly 
teeth, and enchanting smile, her complexion of lilies and roses, 
the charm of her cultivated intellect. Even her detractors 
own that she had the power of captivating all who approached 
her. Her regular beauty, they saj'', was a surprise to those 
who had known her in her younger days. Or else they 
insist, with her successor, the original and sharp-tongued 
Princess Palatine, that Madame had no actual beauty, but 
so much grace, that everything she did became her. Her 
chestnut hair was always dressed in a style that suited her 
exactly. The slight defect in her figure was so artfully con- 
cealed that, as Mademoiselle remarks, she even managed 
to make people praise its elegance, and Monsieur never dis- 
covered that she was crooked until after his marriage. "If 
it had not been for that slight deformity," says de Beaumelle, 
" she would have been a masterpiece of Nature. As it was, 
there was no one at Court to compare with her." 

A (ew days after the wedding, Monsieur took his bride to 
his own residence at the Tuileries. "The thing was just and 
according to God's laws," observes Father Cyprian, " but the 



go MADAME AT THE TUILHRIE.^. 

Queen was very reluctant to part from her dearly-loved 
child, and the poor young Princess, who had never left her 
mother, for a day, since her first arrival at Paris in Lady 
Morton's arms, wept bitterly. The scene was a painful one, 
and all the Queen's servants shed tears at the sight of her 
distress. But the Queen retired to Colombes, and Madame 
soon dried her tears and forgot her grief in the new and 
brilliant life that awaited her. Her arrival at the Tuileries 
was hailed by splendid wedding gifts from the different 
members of the royal family, and became the signal for a 
fresh round of festivities. The young Queen was in delicate 
health, and too stiff and formal to take an active part in 
society. Madame soon found herself the leader of the 
fashionable world, and the Tuileries became the centre of the 
Court. All the men were at her feet, all the women adored 
her. Foremost among her admirers, was the King himself. 
For the first time, he recognised the charms which in his 
early youth he had refused to own, and declared aloud that he 
must have been the most unjust of men, not to think Madame 
the fairest and best of women. He paid daily visits to his 
}'Oung sister-in-law, and took increasing delight in her com- 
pany. 

On Maundy Thursday, Madame took the Queen's place 
in the solemn ceremony of washing the feet of the poor, in 
the hall of the Louvre. On the loth of April, she was present 
with the whole Court at the marriage at Marie Mancini with the 
Prince Colonna, Constable of the kingdom of Naples. Before 
the Cardinal's death, he had given his niece Hortense in 
marriage to the Marquis de la Meilleraye, who assumed the 
title of Due de Mazarin, and inherited the greater part of the 
minister's wealth. At the same time, he had betrothed her 
sister Marie to the Conn^table Colonna, and the King's old 
love left the country, where she had once hoped to reign, with 
the consolation, that at least she was no longer the subject of 
a monarch who had forgotten her. A week later, another 
marriage, planned by the Cardinal, was celebrated. This was 
that of Mademoiselle d'Orl^ans, the prettiest of /a Grande 
Madonoiselles sisters, to the Grand Duke of Tuscany. A few- 
days afterwards, this Princess, whom Choisy describes as being 



madame's ladies. 91 

as lovely, but not as virtuous, as an angel, departed for her 
southern home, where she made herself and others miserable, 
until she succeeded in returning to France. 

Immediately after these weddings, which were celebrated 
with great pomp, the King and Queen left Paris for l"on- 
taincbleau. Monsieur and Madame lingered in l\iris, a (e\v 
weeks longer, surrounded by a brilliant Court. Among the 
ladies who formed part of Madame's intimate circle, were 
several of the wittiest and handsomest women of the day. 
There was the widowed Duchesse de Chatillon, famous for 
her intrigues in the Fronde, and said to be the onl}' woman 
who had ever touched the great Condt^'s heart. Bablon, 
as she is familiarly called in Henrietta's letters, had, at one 
time, caught Charles II.'s roving fancy, and had incurred 
Mademoiselle's jealous)^, by boasting that she might otic da}^ 
be Queen of England. In this respect, her ambition had 
been disappointed, but she remained intimate with Madame 
and her royal brother, who kept a soft corner in his heart for 
his old flame. And there was the Duchesse de Crequi, and 
Mademoiselle de Mortemart, better known in after days as 
Madame de Montespan, and Madame de Monaco, daughter 
of the Marechal de Gramont and sister of Monsieur's prime 
favourite, the handsome Comte de Guiche. 

Two others there also were, who had known the Princess 
of England intimately before her marriage, and for whom 
she retained the same warm affection as in old days. 
One of these was the virtuous and gentle Marguerite de la 
Tremouille, the niece to whose friendship with Madame, Lad}- 
Derby so often alludes, but who was soon to marry a Ger- 
man prince. Due Bernard of Saxe-Weimar, and leave France. 
The other was Madeleine de la Vergne, the young Mar- 
quise de La Fayette, who had been lately left a widow, and 
was one of the most intellectual ladies of the Court. As a 
girl she had amazed her tutors, and read Greek and Latin 
better than her instructor, Menage. From these early days, 
she had been a favoured guest at the Hotel Rambouillet, and 
had enjoyed the friendship of Madame de Sevigne and 
Madame de Scudery, while La Rochefoucauld was one of her 
most intimate associates. She had already published her 



92 MOLIliRE. 

first romance, La Princcsse de Mofitpoisier. In later days 
she was to become famous as the writer of Zdide and of La 
Princesse de Cleves, and as the biographer of Henrietta her- 
self This accomplished lady had known the Princesse 
d'Angleterre from her childhood, and had constantly seen her 
in the convent of Chaillot. Although some ten years older 
than Madame, she remained her most intimate friend and 
confidant to the end of her life, and it speaks well for the 
lively young Princess, that she should have been so deeply 
attached to one whose tastes and habits were so different 
from her own. 

All of these ladies were in the habit of spending their after- 
noons at the Tuileries. They drove out with Madame daily, 
to the Cours de la Reine, those pleasant avenues on the banks 
of the Seine, which had been laid out by Marie de Medicis, 
and were at that time the favourite resort of the gay world. 
On their return, Monsieur and a {q.\^ of his intimate friends 
joined them at supper, after which the doors were thrown 
open and the men and ladies of the Court were admitted. 
Then cards and music, acting 2ir\d Jeitx d' esprit were the order 
of the day, and the evenings were spent in the gayest and 
least formal manner. Monsieur was proud of the universal 
admiration which his young wife excited, and delighted to see 
her the object of so much homage. " Her conversation," says 
a contemporary, " was as animated as it was interesting, her 
naturally fine and delicate taste had been formed by the study 
of the best books, her temper was sweet and equable, such as 
it should be, to reign over the French. She had all the \vit 
of her brother, Charles H., heightened by the charms of her 
sex and the wish to please. Her example inspired others 
with a taste for letters, and introduced a refinement and grace 
in the pleasures of the Court, which were altogether new." 

At that time, Moli^re's troupe was giving frequent perform- 
ances in the theatre of the Palais-Royal. The great drama- 
tist had been originally recommended to Monsieur, by the 
Prince de Conti, and presented by the Duke of Orleans him- 
self to the King. His Pn'cienses had been acted before 
the Court, in the last days of the dying Cardinal, and had 
baen applauded by the whole society of the Hotel Ram- 



SAINT-CLOUD. 93 

bouillet, whose extravagances were the object of the poet's 
satire. "In fact," wrote Menage, after being present at one 
of these performances, and describing its extraordinary 
success, " we are doing what Clovis was told to do of old, b)' 
S. R6mi. We burn what we have adored, and we adore what 
we have burned." Les Fcmmes Savantes and Sganarcllc 
met with a still larger share of popularity. The price of 
seats was doubled and the parterre was crowded. From the 
first, Madatnc honoured Moliere with her patronage, and 
what was far more rare in those days, showed a degree of 
interest and sympathy in his creations, which no royal per- 
sonage had yet done. 

During the month of May, Monsieur and Madame paid a 
visit to the Queen of England at Colombes, and went on to 
Saint-Cloud. Now, for the first time, Madame found herself 
in this lovely home, which was to become so intimately asso- 
ciated with her name, where many of the brightest and some 
of the saddest days of her life were to be spent ; Saint-Cloud, 
that '" pa/ais de delices," which only nine short years later, was 
to witness the awful and memorable catastrophe of her death. 
The palace had been enlarged and embellished, on the occa- 
sion of Monsieur's marriage, by Lepante and Girard, the Court 
architects. The park and gardens had been laid out by the 
famous Le Notre, the cascades d^ndjets d'eau were the work 
of Jules Mansart. The exquisite beauty of the spot lent it- 
self admirably to the landscape gardener's hand. The terraces 
commanded a magnificent view over the winding Seine, and 
the distant towers of Paris, the noble avenues of plane trees 
led down to the banks of the river. Nature and art had com- 
bined to do their best, and the happiest results had been 
attained. Here the formal style of gardening was seen to 
perfection. Yew hedges and clipped trees, palisades and 
arbours, grass pyramids and amphitheatres met the eye at 
every turn. There were sunny parterres planted with orange 
trees, and adorned with statues of Greek gods and heroes, of 
fauns and naiads. There were shady nooks and cool retreats, 
where you could sit undisturbed on the hottest summer daj- 
and listen to the sound of running water. Such a bower there 
was, at the end of the lofty terrace, close to the Grande 



94 FONTAINEBLEAU. 

Cascade, where Madame loved to sit, on balmy June nights, 
with some favourite companion at her side, enjoying the cool 
freshness of the air and the breath of the roses. But this time 
she only spent a few days at Saint-Cloud, for the Court was 
already at Fontainebleau, and there her arrival was impatiently 
awaited. This we learn from a graceful little note which the 
King addressed to her at Saint-Cloud. It is interesting, as 
one of the very few private letters we have from the pen of 
Louis XIV., and shows the pleasant terms on which he was 
with his young sister-in-law. 

" Fontainebleau, Friday. 

" If I wish myself at Saint-Cloud it is not because of its 
grottoes or the freshness of its foliage. Here we have gardens 
fair enough to console us, but the company which is there 
now, is so good, that I find myself furiously tempted to go 
there, and if I did not expect to see you here to-morrow, I do 
not know what I should do, and could not help making a 
journey to see you. Remember me to all your ladies, and do 
not forget the affection which I have promised you, and which 
is, I can assure you, all you could possibly desire, if indeed 
you wish me to love you very much. Give my best love to 
my brother. 

" To my sister." ^ 

Monsieur and Madame did not fail to respond to the 
cordial feeling expressed in this letter, and the next day they 
joined the Court at Fontainebleau. Here, in the graceful 
Renaissance palace of Francois I*^', on the edge of the forest, 
the King and his Court were spending the best months of the 
year. In these halls where the cipher of Diane de Poitiers may 
still be seen entwined with that of her royal lover, and the 
letters of Henri Ouatre's name appear side by side with 
those of his belle Gabrielle, the fairest women and the bravest 
men of France took their pleasure and held high festival 
through the long summer days. And here, where "Mary 
Queen of Scots had spent the brightest days of her life 

' Both this note and another from Louis XIV., which is quoted at p. 258, were 
first published by M. l^.tienne Charavay, and are given by M. Anatole France, in 
his introduction to Madame de La Fayette's Histoirc dc Madame Hcnrutte. 



FONTAINEBLEAU. 95 

another I'n'nccss of the same royal Stuart h'ne now came to 
be the ornament and deh'ght of the Court of France. Seldom, 
it must be owned, had Court festivities offered a more attrac- 
tive aspect, at any time or in any land. The youth and com- 
manding personality of the King, his chivalrous manners and 
courtesy to women, young or old, high or low, threw a glamour 
on the scene, and lent a touch of romance to the most tedious 
ceremonies. He would raise his hat to the meanest maid in 
his household, and returned every salute with a majesty and 
charm that went far to win the heart of his subjects. And 
this was the May-time of his long and glorious reign. He 
was twenty-two, and full of great hopes and of good intentions. 
The Cardinal was dead, and he had been given no successor. 
Louis was determined to be his own master, and had an- 
nounced his intention to be King of France, not only in name, 
but in fact. He applied himself to the management of state 
affairs, with a resolution and a perseverance that amazed his 
own mother, and commanded the respect of all about him. 
He spent his mornings closeted with his ministers, and wrote 
lengthy despatches to his foreign ambassadors, in his own 
hand. Nothing was too minute to escape his attention, or too 
remote to be outside his ken. The French envoy in London 
stood aghast, when the King desired him to send him a list of 
those persons in England who were noted for all sorts and 
kinds of knowledge, both in the past and present, "such in- 
formation,'' he added, " being necessary to the advancement of 
my glory and service." And it is to be feared that the reply 
of M. de Comminges, who had never heard of Shakespeare, and 
was only dimly aware " of un nomvid Miltonitts, whose noxious 
writings have rendered him more infamous than the very 
assassins of their King," hardly enlightened His Majesty much, 
l^ut at all events, Louis was determined to be well served, and 
to keep a watchful eye on every department of state affairs. 
And he was equally determined to enjoy life, after his own 
fashion. His brain was already busy with a thousand magni- 
ficent projects. He would create a Versailles to be the won- 
der of the world, and leave the stamp of 'his own greatness 
alike on the architecture and the poetry of the age. The 
greatest thinkers, the most gifted artists of the day, should be 



g6 LE GRAND MONARQUE. 

drawn to his Court, and should help to add lustre to his name. 
Painters and poets, sculptors and musicians, dramatists and 
comedians, should minister to his pleasures. Lebrun and 
Mignard should adorn his galleries, Moliere and Lulli should 
compose his ballets. He would make his Court famous in the 
eyes of the whole civilised world, and gild his very pastimes 
with a refinement and a distinction, such as no king before him 
had ever dreamt of. 

Unfortunately as it happened, the wife who shared the 
Grand Monarque's throne was singularly ill-fitted to be the 
partner of this able and aspiring king. The marriage in which 
Anne of Austria saw the fulfilment of all her hopes, and which 
the Cardinal held to be the final triumph of his diplomacy, 
proved a signal failure in this respect. Marie Th^rese was 
dull, ignorant, and bigoted. She had been brought up in the 
most cramping traditions of Spanish etiquette, and had not a 
wish or thought beyond the narrow circle in which she moved. 
All her actions and movements were governed by the most 
rigid regard for ceremonial. She referred to Court Chamber- 
lains for leave to embrace her father, and held out her skirt to 
be kissed by her own children. She fenced herself in, with a 
new code of minute regulations, and withdrew herself as much 
as possible from contact with any but her immediate attend- 
ants. Her time was divided between eating and dressing, 
cards, and church-going. She ate voraciously, and was 
greedily afraid lest her favourite morsels should be handed to 
others at table. She had a passion for cards, and played 
extremely badly, much to the satisfaction of her ladies, who 
won large sums from their royal mistress. But she had a 
kind heart, and was a pious and devout woman. It was her 
misfortune to be fondly attached to the husband with whom 
she had so little in common, and whose infidelities were des- 
tined to give her such deep and constant distress. Even in 
these early days of her wedded life, she already watched his 
conduct with jealous suspicion, and was alive to the first 
symptoms of neglect on his part. And now, to increase the 
King's sense of his wife's deficiencies, this young and brilliant 
Madame appeared suddenly on the scene. 

It would have been hard to find a more complete contrast to 



MARIE THERESE. 9/ 

the Spanish Queen. Not only was the Kngh'sh Princess a 
thousand times more fair, but her beauty had all the life and 
gaiety that was lacking in poor Marie Ther^se. She hated 
the formal manners of the Court, and had only too little regard 
for conventionalities. On state occasions she bore herself with 
as much grace and majesty as anyone, but in private she threw 
etiquette to the winds and became the simplest and most 
natural of mortals. Her appearance at Fontainebleau gave a 
new zest to the pleasures of the Court. Everyone thought of 
Madame and tried to please her. And no one was more 
eager to anticipate her wishes, or more constantly at her side, 
than the King himself. His sister-in-law's high spirits and 
innocent gaiety delighted him. Her lively wit amused him. 
In her more serious moments her conversation was full of 
charm. He soon discovered that quick perception and real 
love of letters which she had inherited from her ancestors, and 
admired her accomplishments the more, from the keen sense 
which he had of the defects of his own education. Henrietta, 
on her part, was not insensible to the homage paid her by the 
royal brother-in-law who had so long refused to acknowledge 
her charms, and may well have preferred his society to that 
of her weak and effeminate husband. If, in the early days of 
her married life. Monsieur's passion may have blinded her 
eyes to his real character, by this time the illusion had already 
passed away, and Madame must have discovered, to her cost, 
the pettiness and emptiness of the Prince to whom a hard 
fate had bound her.^ 

A more despicable specimen of humanity it would have 
been hard to find. The bad education which he had received 
had served to develop the worst side of his nature. From 
his earliest years, he had been sacrificed to his brother. It had 
been part of the policy of Cardinal Mazarin and of Anne of 
Austria, to keep him a child all his life, and bring him up with 
the most effeminate tastes, for fear he should follow the 
example of his uncle, Gaston of Orleans, and stir up troubles 
in the State. They had succeeded only too well, and " le 
plus joli enfant de France " had grown up a miserable dand}-. 
His good looks were indisputable. He had fine black eyes, 
and a profusion of dark, curly hair, his features were very 

G 



98 MONSIEUR. 

regular, and his teeth very white. But he was small and 
slight, and his personal appearance was rather that of a 
woman than a man. His toilet occupied the chief part of 
his time, and he devoted endless care and thought to the 
choice of a plume or rosette. He powdered his hair, 
rouged his cheeks, and loaded himself with ribbons and 
jewels. His favourite amusement was to dress himself up 
in women's clothes and to wear patches. He had been 
brought up entirely by women, and loved nothing so well 
as their society. But his excessive vanity prompted him to 
seek admiration rather than to bestow it, and his selfishness 
made him incapable of any lasting attachment. He was by 
no means lacking in personal courage, but had far more dread 
of soiling his clothes, and of exposing his complexion to the 
sun, than of meeting the enemy in battle. This childish 
vanity and frivolity marked all his actions. His tastes were 
as effeminate as those of the King were the reverse. Made- 
moiselle relates how, while Louis was winning his first laurels 
in the army before Dunkirk, his brother spent his time at 
Calais, playing on the beach with the Queen's ladies, throwing 
water over them, and buying the toys and ribbons which came 
over from England. The delight which he took in Court 
functions and ceremonies was extraordinary. Whether a wed- 
ding or a funeral, it was all the same to him, as long as he could 
wear a flowing mantle, or a coat that glittered with diamonds. 
Mademoiselle tells us how, when her father died, the King 
said to her, " To-morrow you will see Monsieur in a trail- 
ing violet mantle. He is enchanted to hear of your father's 
death, so as to have the pleasure of wearing one. It is lucky 
for mc that I am older than he is, or he would have been long- 
ing for my death ! " And sure enough, she adds, " Monsieur 
appeared the next morning in a mantle of a furious length ! " 
Although, at one moment, this Princess had certainly seriously 
contemplated a marriage with Monsieur, she lived long enough 
to congratulate herself on her fortunate escape. She had, at least, 
enjoyed ample opportunities of knowing him, and had taken 
his measure fully. " The more I knew of him," she remarks, 
" the more I saw that he would never care for anything but 
his own beauty and his own clothes, and that he was quite un- 



LOUIS XIV. AND MADAME. 99 

able to distinguish himself by noble actions, or to take a lead- 
ing part among men." "A woman," writes Saint-Simon, speak- 
ing of Monsieur, " but with all the faults of a woman, and none 
of her virtues ; childish, feeble, idle, gossiping, curious, vain, 
suspicious, incapable of holding his tongue, taking pleasure in 
spreading slander and making mischief, such was Philippe of 
Orleans, the brother of Louis XIV." 

So contemptible a Prince was ill-fitted to be the husband 
of a clever, high-spirited Princess. Before his marriage, he 
had appeared to be passionately in love with Henrietta, but 
Madame de La Faj'Ctte, who knew him intimately, doubted 
if the miracle of inflaming his heart was given to any woman 
upon earth. He himself often said, in later years, that, after 
the first fortnight of his married life, he had never loved 
liis wife. And the second Madame gives it as her opinion, 
that in his wliole life Monsieur had never really loved any 
woman. " His taste," she tells us, "was turned in other direc- 
tions," and he lavished his fortune and affections upon the 
most worthless minions. 

Under these circumstances, it was hardly to be wondered 
if Madame found pleasure in the companionship of the King. 
His natural ascendency of character might well captivate the 
fancy of a maiden barely yet seventeen years old. Here was 
a Prince, full of great schemes and noble ambitions, ready to 
share his dreams with her, and to seek her sympathy. The 
mutual attraction which drew them together was heightened 
by their mutual discontent. The friendship which sprang up 
between them had all the flavour of romance. They wrote 
verses that were read and applauded by the whole Court, and 
sent each other little notes, innocent enough in themselves, 
but which raised suspicion in other breasts. Significant looks 
were exchanged, and mysterious whispers passed from one to 
another. Courtiers ventured to express their regret that 
Madame did not hold a more exalted place at Court, and to 
hint that, had the King known her better a year or two ago, 
he would have made her his Queen. But for the moment, 
Monsieur was too well amused with the novelty of his own 
position, and the importance which he acquired from his wife's 
influence with the King, to show any signs of resentment. 



lOO THE COURT AT FONTAINEBLEAU. 

The summer days slipped by, in a continual round of amuse- 
ments. The mornings were devoted to business, the rest of 
the day was spent in pleasure. 

On hot afternoons, Madame would drive out, attended by 
all the ladies of the Court, to bathe in one of the clear streams 
which flow through the forest, and then ride back on horse- 
back in the cool of the evening. The King himself, followed 
by his suite, would come to meet her and escort her home. 
Henrietta was a fearless rider, and never looked better than 
when, mounted on her horse and wearing a gold-laced habit and 
coloured plumes in her shady hat, she appeared at the head 
of this brilliant cavalcade. Long after Madame was dead 
and gone, the recollection of those joyous processions, wind- 
ing their way through the leafy glades in the bright evening 
light, lived among the fairest memories of the Sun-King's 
Court. Or else the King would lead the way to the Her- 
mitage de Franchard, or some such picturesque spot in the 
forest, where a dainty collation was served under the trees, 
and the sound of horn and clarion woke the echoes of the 
rocks. After supper, the royal party would embark on a 
richly-decorated gondola and float down the waters of the 
canal, to the strains of Lulli's wonderful violins, and the great 
Cond6, and other Princes of the blood, would hand refresh- 
ments to the Queen and princesses. There were hunting 
expeditions in the woods, moonlight serenades prolonged 
far on into the night, and lonely rambles into the depths of 

ithe forest. [_ Strange were the sights the stars looked down 
upon, strange the tales that were whispered under the spread- 
ing boughs of the ancient beeches. I In all of these hunting 
1 parties or moonlight walks, the Kmg was Madame's com- 
panion. She shared all his tastes, and entered into all his 
plans, with a spirit and a vivacity of which the poor, dull 
Queen was utterly incapable. Together they arranged to- 
morrow's fete, were it masque or water - party. Pastoral 
. plays were acted, ballets were danced in the open air under 
,' the greenwood tree. " Never," writes Madame de Motte- 
^^ ville, "had the Court of France witnessed festivities of so 
varied a kind as were seen at Fontainebleau that summer- 
time." Never had so bright an array of youth and beauty 



COURT liCTES. lOI 

been gathered around the Crown. All thought of care and 
sorrow was put away, and life seemed one long dream of 
delight. 

Early in June, the Queen of England came to spend a 
few days at Fontainebleau. She was eagerly welcomed by 
Madame, and, on her departure, Fouquet, the Minister of 
Finance, gave a magnificent fete in her honour, at that 
splendid house, of which La Fontaine has left us so charming 
a description, in his Songe de Vaux. Monsieur and Madame 
were also present, and Moliere's Ecole des Maris was per- 
formed for the first time. This was followed by a grand ball, 
given by Monsieur and Madame at Fontainebleau on the nth 
of June, and a few days later by another, given in honour of 
Madame's birthday, by the Due de Beaufort. On this occa- 
sion, the compan}^ danced under the trees of the park, which 
were brilliantly illuminated, and decorated with all manner of 
fanciful devices. A splendid /iV^, or rather succession o{ fetes, 
was also given to Madame by her mother's old friend, the 
Duchesse de Ch^vreuse, in the gardens of her chateau at 
Dampierre, one of the finest country houses near Paris. The 
Queen- mother of France accompanied her son and daughter- 
in-law on this visit, and the information which she then re- 
ceived through Madame de Ch^vreuse and her friends, Colbert 
and Le Tellier, is said to have finally decided the fate of the 
unhappy Fouquet. 

But the most memorable of all W\^ fetes held at Fontaine- 
bleau that summer, vvas the representation of the Ballet des 
Saisons. After many previous rehearsals, the final perform- 
ance took place on the night of the 23rd of July, before the 
two Queens and the whole Court. The stage was raised on 
a grassy lawn, at the edge of the lake. The noble avenues 
on either side were lighted with thousands of torches, and the 
ornamental waters of the gardens were illuminated with fires 
of every hue. First came a troop of fair-haired maidens, who 
strewed flowers on the grass and sang praises of Diana, queen 
and huntress, chaste and fair. Then the curtain rose, and 
Madame appeared in classic draperies, wearing the silver 
crescent on her brow, and armed with bow and quiver. Ten 
of the loveliest ladies of the Court stood beside her, clad in 



102 BALLET DES SAISONS. 

sylvan green, and danced around her, as they sang the follow- 
ing chorus in her praise : — 



Diane dans les bois, Diane dans les cieux, 

Diane enfin brille en tous lieux, 

Elle enchante les cceurs, elle ^blouit les yeux, 

Giorieuse sans etre fiere, 

Adorable en toute manitre." 



Then, decked out in fantastic costumes, and bearing ap- 
propriate devices, came the different seasons of the year, 
each in turn offering their homage at the shrine of Diana, 
Flora and Ceres, shepherds and hunters, reapers and 
vintagers all appeared in succession. Last of all, the King 
himself entered, clad in the bright robe of Spring, and 
followed by a troop of Lovers, with Joy, Laughter and 
Abundance in their train. Before his face, the snows of war 
and discontent melt away, the flowers return upon earth, and 
the voice of the singing-birds is heard. So sang the chorus 
in Benserade's flattering verses, as the King sank on bended 
knee before Madame, and owned her Queen of Beauty, amid 
the applause of the whole Court. 

That night Henrietta's triumph was complete. She knew 
not, alas ! how short it was destined to be, brief as the 
summer flowers or the midsummer night itself. Among the 
actors in that ballet, there were many whose names are well 
known in the story of the Grand Monarque's age. Monsieur, 
and his favourite, the Comte de Guichc, acted in one entrh. 
In another, Madame de Monaco appeared with Madame de 
Comminges, la belle Ccsofiie of the Hotel Rambouillet, whose 
husband was shortly to be sent as Ambassador to England, 
Marie Anne, the youngest of the Mancini, soon to become 
Duchesse de Bouillon, and afterwards celebrated by La 
I'^ontaine as " la mere des Amottrs et la Reine des Graces" was J 
one of the Muses, and so, too, was Madame's English friend. 
Miss Stewart, the future Duchess of Richmond, and object of 
Charles n.'s admiration. And among these brilliant beauties 
there was one of Madame's own maids-of-honour, a very 
timid and blushing maiden, scarcely yet seventeen, who bore 



LA VALLIKRE. IO3 

"^ the name 01 Louise de la Valliere. She appeared that night, 
among the nymphs of Diana's train, and her expressive eyes 
and lovely colouring attracted the notice of more than one 
courtier. But no one then dreamt the part that she was to 
play at Court, during the next few years. 



CHAPTER VIII 
1661 — 1662 

Intrigues and Jealousies in Ihe Royal Family — The Comte de Guiche — Fete dc 
Vaux — Disgrace of Fouquet — Illness of Madame — Letters from Charles II. 
— Intrigues al the Palais Royal — Birth of Marie Louise d'Orleans. 

The Queen-mother of France was the first person who be- 
came uneasy at the King's devotion to his sister-in-law. She 
complained that Madame robbed her of her son's company, 
that her influence led him to neglect both his mother and his 
wife, and blamed her conduct severely. At her command, 
Madame de Motteville ventured to give the young Princess a 
word of warning. Henrietta listened to her mother's old 
friend with her usual gentleness, but laughed at her mother- 
in-law's fears, and refused to be guided by her advice. Her 
intimacy with the King became greater than ever. They 
spent whole days together, and took long rambles in the 
woods, which lasted until two or three o'clock in the morn- 
ing. The young Queen's jealousy was awakened. She wept 
bitter tears, and alienated the King's affection by her re- 
proaches. Monsieur, in his turn, took offence at the influence 
which Madame had acquired over the King, and carried his 
complaints to his mother. Anne of Austria, now thoroughly 
alarmed, begged the Queen of England to speak seriously to 
her thoughtless young daughter. But Henrietta Maria, con- 
scious of the innocence of her child's intentions, refused to 
believe that her conduct was deserving of blame. None the 
less, from her retreat of Colombes, she watched the course of 
events anxiously, A touching letter which she wrote to 
Madame de Motteville at this time ends with the words : — • 
"You have with you, my other little self — tui autre petit-moi- 

104 



THE COMTE DE GUICHE. 105 

vieine — who loves you well, I can assure you. I beg of you 
to remain her friend. I know you will understand what I 
mean.'' 

Anne of Austria now desired Abbd Montagu to remon- 
strate with Madame, while she herself spoke gravely to her 
son, and entreated him to put an end to the scandal caused 
by his proceedings. Madame was indignant with her mother- 
in-law, and complained of her unjust accusations to the King. 
Louis consoled her with assurances of his unalterable friend- 
ship. But they both felt the need of greater caution, if family 
peace was to be preserved, and for the first time, Madame's 
eyes were opened to the dangers which threatened her youth 
and inexperience. Henceforth she took care to show the 
world that the King was no more to her than a brother-in- 
law, for whom she had a sincere regard, and whose affection 
and good opinion she valued as they deserved. When, many 
years afterwards, Madame herself suggested the story of 
Berenice as a subject for a tragedy, both to Corneille and 
Racine, the Court recognised the theme as inspired by her 
own experience. In this Roman Emperor, who sacrificed his 
feelings to a stern sense of duty, the servants of Louis saw 
the glorification of their master's conduct, and applauded the 
passage in which Titus bids the Jewish captive a long farewell, 
as the expression of the King's own sentiments. By way of 
diverting the Court's notice from Madame, Louis now chose 
her fair young maid-of-honour, the little La Valliere, as she 
was called, to be the object of his attentions, and paid her a 
homage which excited general surprise. The poor girl, 
gentle and modest as she was, soon fell desperately in love 
with this handsome and attractive monarch, who stooped to 
honour her with his notice. Louis himself, pleased to see the 
flame which he had kindled, soon returned her affection, and 
his feigned passion became all too real. 

At the same time, Armand, Comte de Guiche, the bravest 
and handsomest man at Court, dared to lift his eyes as high 
as Madame, and professed himself her devoted servant. 
Madame de La Fayette speaks of him as a very fine and 
manly gentleman, infinitely superior to the idle gallants of 
the Court. Already he had proved his prowess on more than 



106 THE COMTE DE GUICHE. 

one hard-fought field, and was burning to win fresh laurels. 
With his proud bearing and his noble ambitions, he was, says 
Madame de Sevign^, the very type of a paladin of old 
renown. " I met the Comte de Guiche to-day at M. de la 
Rochefoucauld's," she writes. " He seemed to me very clever, 
and less supernatural than usual. We talked a great deal 
together." There was something about him, she says, on 
another occasion, unlike any one else. He seemed, indeed, 
born to be a hero of romance. But he was too haughty and 
independent to have many friends at Court. He had at an 
early age been married, against his own wish, to a child- 
heiress of the house of Sully, but he had never pretended to 
love his wife, and although he had paid attentions to various 
ladies in turn, no woman had hitherto touched his heart. 
From his boyhood he had been Monsieur's chief favourite, 
and it was in this capacity that he first became acquainted 
with Madame. Even before her marriage, Buckingham had 
foretold that the Count would fall in love with her, and it 
must be owned that, in these early days of Henrietta's wedded 
life, every opportunity of becoming intimate with her was 
afforded him. The De Gramont family, to which he belonged, 
stood high in the King's favour at Court. His uncle, the 
famous Chevalier, had indeed incurred his royal master's 
displeasure by his presumption, but his return to favour was 
confidently expected, and in the meantime he had taken 
refuge in England, and was honoured by Charles H.'s friend- 
ship. His father, the fine old Mardchal, commanded universal 
respect, and was always treated with marked consideration 
by Louis XIV. and the whole of the Royal Family. His 
sister, Madame de Monaco, was Madame's chosen friend ; his 
aunt, Madame de Saint-Chaumont, became the governess of 
her children. Whether at Paris or at Fontainebleau, the 
Comte de Guiche was daily in her presence. In the Court 
ballets and masquerades this accomplished cavalier was 
always one of the chief actors. They rehearsed their parts 
together in private, they sang and danced together in public. 
As long as the King devoted himself to Madame, the Count 
had not ventured to confess his passion, but when Louis 
became less assiduous in his attentions, De Guiche in his 



monsieur's jealousy. 107 

turn grew bolder. One day, when he had come to rehearse 
]j a scene in the Ballet des Saisons, in which he and Madame 
were to appear together, he asked her if nothing had ever 
touched her heart, and when she gave him some merry 
answer, he rushed out of the room, declaring that he 
was in great danger. Another time, he confessed to 
Madame that he was the victim of a hopeless passion, 
and described the charms of his mistress in terms which 
left no doubt in the mind of others, that he spoke of 
Henrietta herself. 

Even then, she failed to see his meaning, and the Count's 
adoration remained a secret to her alone. But one day, 
Monsieur took offence, and after angry words on both 
sides, the Count haughtily withdrew from Court. The 
King, who was secretly gratified at the new turn which events 
had taken, himself told Madame what had happened, and she 
learnt, to her surprise, that the Count had openly avowed his 
passion. At first, she acted with more prudence than might 
have been expected. She begged Madame de Monaco to 
desire her brother not to appear again in her presence, and 
refused to read a letter which he ventured to send her. But 
the seed was sown, and dissensions soon became ripe in 
Monsieur's household. He became sulky and jealous, and 
teased his wife about trifles. Next, he quarrelled with 
Madame de Monaco, who, to do her justice, had nev^er en- 
couraged her brother's pretensions, and that lady left Court 
for her husband's principality in the south. Vague reports of 
these unhappy disputes reached England, and Lady Derby, 
writing to Madame de la Tr^mouille, observes : " Rumour says 
that Monsieur is very jealous of Madame, and that he makes 
her a very bad husband, which I cannot believe. The Duke 
of York is very much the reverse ; there never was his equal, 
he and his wife being inseparable." Madame de la Tr^mouille 
and her daughter, however, plainly were not of those who 
thought ill of Madame, and Lady Derby remarks at the same 
time that nothing pleases her better than to know that the 
Princess continues to conduct herself with so much discretion 
and virtue. 

Political intrigues now came to blend with love quarrels, 



I08 FETE DE VAUX, 

Fouquet's doom was sealed, not only because he had en- 
riched himself ati'the expense of the State, but because he 
had made insulting proposals to Mademoiselle de la Valli^re. 
On the 17th of August, this unfortunate minister gave the 
famous festival wliich La Fontaine has described in such 
glowing language. A richly-decorated theatre was erected 
under an avenue of pines, in the midst of orange groves and 
fountains. Here Moli^re's new comedy, Les Fddieux, was 
performed with ballets and musical interludes between the 
acts. At one moment, twenty jets d'eaic shot up waters of 
different hues to heaven. At another, long-haired naiads rose 
out of the rocks, and an opening shell revealed the bewitching 
form of the actress, Madeleine B6jart. Madame, in whose 
honour ihe fete was said to be given, was ill that evening, and 
had to appear in a litter. La Valli^re was there among her 
ladies, and the King's growing inclination became for the 
first time evident to all. Madame went home convinced that 
her own influence with Louis was on the wane, and that her 
shy maid of honour was rapidly taking her place. The King 
was visibly annoyed at the extravagant splendour and reck- 
less profusion displayed by his minister, on this occasion. 
More than one courtier had drawn his attention to the super- 
intendent's device, a climbing squirrel, with the significant 
motto '* Quo non ascendant ? " which adorned the ceilings and 
mantelpieces of his house. Four days afterwards, the Court 
set out on a journey into Brittany, and Fouquet was arrested 
at Nantes. In vain his powerful friends tried to save him, 
in vain La Fontaine implored the King's clemency, on behalf 
of his Mcecenas, in the most poetic strains. The nymphs 
of Vaux wept bitter tears, but Louis could not forgive 
the personal wrong which Fouquet had done him, nor 
forget the millions which he had lavished on the gardens 
of Vaux. The fallen minister was found guilty of misuse 
of public money, and condemned to drag out his miserable 
existence in a long and hopeless captivity. The King ap- 
pointed Colbert his successor, and applied himself to effect 
a thorough reformation in the disordered finances of the 
state. 

The Court returned to Fontainebleau for the autumn, 



MADAMES ILLNESS. IO9 

and there, on the 1st of November, the Queen ga\'e birth 
to a Dauphin. The event was hailed with rejoicing by 
the whole nation, the fountains of Fontainebleau flowed with 
wine during three days, and brilhant displays of fireworks 
were given. The Queen-mother of England was invited to 
become the royal child's godmother, and gave him the names 
of Louis Toussaint, in memory of his birth on All-Saints' Day. 
As soon as the Queen had recovered, the King accompanied 
her on a pilgrimage to Our Lad}^ of Chartres, and Monsieur 
and Madame came to Paris. This long course of dissipation 
had proved injurious to Henrietta's delicate health. She was 
taken to the Tuileries in a litter, and tenderly nursed by her 
mother during the next few weeks. Mademoiselle, who had 
been kept away from Court by an attack of fever, was 
shocked to see the alteration in her appearance. She was 
transparently thin, coughed incessantly, and could not sleep 
Avithout opiates. For some time, her health was a cause of 
great anxiety, and although, after Christmas, she began to 
recover, she was ordered perfect rest during the winter months. 
Jean Loret, whose Muse historique faithfully reflects the Court 
gossip of the day, laments Madame's illness in his verses of 
December 17th, and regrets that the gods who had endowed 
her with so many gifts, had denied her the best of all, good 
health. 

" Elle a douceur, elle a beautc 

D'agrdnients line infinite, 

Elle a naissance, elle a ricliesse, 

Pour elle on a grand tendresse. 

Voila bien des dons prdcieux, 

Mais la santd vaut encore mieux." 

These alarms were shared by Henrietta's brother ini 
England, and an affectionate letter of inquiry, which he 
wrote to his chtre Minette on the i6th of December, is the 
only one in the French Archives that belongs to the year 1661. 
Lord Crofts of Saxham, formerly Captain of the Queen's 
Guard, and now a gentleman of the King's bed-chamber, had 
been sent to Paris, to bear his master's congratulations on the 
Dauphin's birth, and had just returned with letters from the 
Oueen and Madame. 



no CHARLES THE SECOND'S LETTERS. 

" VVhithall, 
"16 December^ 1661. 

" i have been in very much paine for your indisposition, not 

so much that 1 thought it dangerous, but for feare that you 

should miscarry. I hope now you are out of that feare too, 

and for God's sake, my dearest sister, have a care of yourselfe, 

and beleeve that I am more concerned in your health than I 

am in my owne, which I hope you do me the iustice to be 

confident of, since you know how much I love you. Crofts hath 

given me a full accounte of all you charged him with, with all 

which I am very well pleased, and in particular with the desire 

you have to see me at Dunkerke the next summer, which you 

may easily beleeve is a very welcome proposition to me ; be- 

tweene this and then, we will adjust that voyage. I am sure 

I shall be very impatient till I have the happinesse to see via 

cJicre Minette againe. I am very glad to finde that the King 

of France does still continue his confidence and kindnesse to 

you, which I am so sensible of, that if I had no other reason 

to grounde my kindnesse to him but that, he may be most 

assured of my frindship as long as I live, and pray upon all 

occasions, assure him of this. I do not write to you in 

l^Vench, because my head is now dosed with businesse, and 

'tis troublesome to write anything but English, and I do in- 

tende to write to you very often in English, that you may not 

quite forgett it. C. R. 

" For my dearest sister." 

One proof of Louis XIV.'s friendly feeling for his sister-in- 
law appeared in his readiness to make use of her, in his 
negotiations with her brother. The good understanding 
which he was anxious to maintain with England had been 
somewhat ruffled by an unfortunate incident. On the occa- 
sion of the Swedish Minister's entry into London, on the 30th 
of September 1661, the Spanish Ambassador, Baron de 
Watteville, thought well to take precedence of the French 
Ambassador, M. d'Estrades, A desperate fight took place on 
Tower Hill, in which the Spaniards, helped by the citizens, 
routed the French. Five Frenchmen were killed and thirty- 
three more wounded. The harness of the Ambassador's coach 



CHARLES THE SECOND'S LETTERS. HI 

was cut, and four of his six horses were stabbed. As soon as 
the news of what was happening got abroad, Mr Pepys, eager 
to see the fun, ran to the City, and arrived to find that the 
Spaniard had got the best of it and was gone through the 
streets next to the King's coach, '' at which it is strange to see 
how all the City did rejoice, for we do naturally all love the 
Spanish and hate the French." But if the popular feeling was 
all on the side of the Spaniards, that of the Court was well- 
known to be on that of the French, and Charles II. and the 
Duke of York were as sorry for M. d'Estrades* discomfiture 
as Mr Pepys was overjoyed. As for Louis, his fury knew no 
bounds, and he ordered the Spanish Ambassador to leave 
Paris, insisted on Watteville's immediate recall, and did not 
rest content until he had obtained an ample apology and full 
reparation from his father-in-law. The same tenacity on all 
points of honour led him to follow up his success in this 
matter, by an attempt to induce Charles II. to dispense with 
the customary salute yielded by ships of all nations to the 
British men-of-war. But on this point, he found his royal 
brother less pliable than he expected, and in the following 
letter to Madame, the King defends this time-honoured 
privilege of his flag with true British spirit. 

" Whithall. 
"23 Decern.^ 1661. 

"I receaved yours of the 27th so late this night, and the 
post being ready to goe, that I have only time to tell you that 
I extreamly wonder at that which you writ to me of, for 
certainly never any ships refused to strike their pavilion when 
they met any ships belonging to the Crowne of England. 
This is a right so well known, and never disputed by any 
kinge before, that, if I should have it questioned now, I must 
conclude it to be a querelle d Allemand. I hope what you say 
to me is only your feares, for I will never beleeve that anybody 
who desires my frindship will expect that which was never so 
much as thought of before, therefore all I shall say to you is, 
that my ships must do their dutyes, lett what will come of it! 
And I should be very unworthy if I quit a right and goe 
lower than ever any of my predecessors did, which is all I 



I I 2 MISS STEWART. 

have to say, only that I am very glad to finde you are so well 
recovered, and be assured, my dearest sister, that I am intierly 
)'Ours. C. R." 

Unfortunately the letter from Henrietta, which had pro- 
voked this prompt and vigorous reply, has been lost, and we 
find no further allusion to the matter in their future corre- 
spondence. 

Madame's next letter was sent to London by the hands of 
Mrs. Stewart, the widow of one of Lord Blantyre's sons, who 
had taken refuge in Paris during the Civil War, and had 
spent some years at the French Court. Her daughter, Frances 
Stewart, who had figured with Madame in the Ballet dcs 
Saisoiis, had now been chosen, at Henrietta's recommendation, 
to be maid-of-honour to Charles H.'s new Queen. The 
King's marriage with the Infanta of Portugal had been con- 
cluded in the course of the autumn, and Catherine of Braganza 
was expected to arrive in England early in the following 
spring. So Madame, unwilling to let her friends appear at 
Whitehall without a word of greeting to her brother, wrote 
these few lines on the 4th of January 1662. 

" I would not lose this opportunity of writing to you by 
Mrs. Stewart, who is taking over her daughter to become one 
of the Queen, your wife's, future maids. If this were not the 
reason of her departure, I should be very unwilling to let her 
go, for she is the prettiest girl in the world, and one of the 
best fitted of any I know to adorn a court. Yesterday I 
received your letter in reply to those I sent you by Crofts. 
I cannot tell you what joy I feel at the mere thought of 
seeing Your Majesty once more. There is nothing in the 
world I wish for more. Believe me, when I say that I remain 
your very humble servant." 

Henrietta was now sufficiently recovered to leave her bed, 
although she was still confined to her apartments. Here, 
reclining on her couch in one of those exquisite toilettes 
which excited Mademoiselle's envy, she received visitors from 
early morning till a late hour at night. All manner of 
amusements beguiled her days. Ballets were danced, plays 
were acted in her apartments, A grand ballet on the glories 



INTRIGUES AT COURT. II3 

of the Royal House, which had been performed at the Louvre 
on the 7th of February, was repeated a week later, in 
Madame's rooms, the King, Queen and Monsieur taking 
leading parts. The Comte de Guiche had apparently made 
up his quarrel with Monsieur, for he also appeared as an actor, 
in the not inappropriate character of the Hour of Silence. 
As before, the whole Court crowded to the Tuileries. The 
King came there every day, drawn by his growing passion 
for La Valliere. Madame herself knew the reason of his 
frequent visits only too well, but neither of the Queens as yet 
suspected this new attachment. Accordingly they looked 
on Henrietta with increased bitterness, and she felt, with good 
reason, that it was very hard to be blamed, when the fault was 
not hers. Meanwhile, the Comte de Guiche sought to renew 
his old intimacy with Madame, through one of her maids-of- 
honour named Montalais. This girl, whose character ought 
to have debarred her from the place she held in Madame's 
household, was an intrigante of the first order. She had 
already discovered La Valliere's secret, and now tried to gain 
the Count's graces by inducing her mistress to lend an ear to 
his passionate appeals. When news of Madame's dangerous 
illness reached him, he had given way to an outburst of grief 
which excited the surprise of his friends. Henrietta herself, 
touched by the sincerity of his affection, no longer refused to 
receive the letters which he sent her, through her maid-of- 
honour. One day, becoming bolder, he ventured into her 
presence, in the disguise of a fortune-teller. No one recog- 
nised him but Madame, who was infinitely amused. After 
that, this bold lover repeatedly and openly defied public 
opinion, and made his appearance in Madame's rooms. The 
risks he ran for her sake gratified her vanity, and she was too 
young and thoughtless to see the folly of her conduct. Soon 
the Comte de Guiche's passion for Madame became the talk 
of the Court, and their names were linked together in the 
popular songs and satires of the day. 

" C'est la bergei e d'Anglelerre 
Qui k Saint-Cloud s'en va chantant, 
Est-ce si grand mal 
Que d'avoir fait un amant .?" 



114 liOSSUETS SERMONS. 

While Madame, like some innocent child, was playing 
with edged tools, the King's intrigue with La Valliere had 
assumed more serious proportions. So grave was the scandal, 
that one day Madame herself told her young maid-of-honour 
that she must leave her service. La Valliere, overwhelmed 
with confusion, acknowledged the truth of her mistress's 
reproaches, and left the Tuileries that night. The next morn- 
ing the King was informed of his mistre.ss's flight. There was 
a great hue and cry, and Louis himself set out to find her 
retreat. It was a week-day in Lent, and the eloquent Abbe 
Bossuet, whose sermons had attracted the Queen-mother's 
attention some years ago, was preaching at the chapel of the 
Louvre that day. The King's absence excited much surprise, 
and his wife was so uneasy that Anne of Austria found it 
difficult to allay her fears, and secretly avowed her conviction 
that something was amiss to Mademoiselle. At length, after 
a prolonged search, the unhappy La Valliere was discovered 
in a convent near Saint-Cloud, where she had taken refuge. 
The King himself brought her back to the Tuileries, and with 
tears in his eyes implored Madame to receive her. Henrietta 
consented, but not without considerable reluctance, and is said 
to have told the King, that in future she would consider La 
Valliere as his property, " une fille-d-vous" 

On the 14th of March, Henrietta was at length well enough 
to appear again in public. She visited her mother at the 
Palais-Royal, and attended service at the Louvre, with the rest 
of the Royal Family. The eloquent Archdeacon of Metz did 
not preach on that occasion, and Madame did not hear 
Bossuet until some years later. Her mother, however, was 
constant in attending his Lent sermons at the Louvre, and 
shared the admiration with which the two French Queens 
regarded him. Monsieur and Madame were also often amon^" 
his audience, and the King himself, in spite of the strangely 
opposite direction in which his thoughts were bent, was deeply 
impressed by the preacher's fervour. Not only did he appoint 
Bossuet Court preacher, but he wrote a letter with his own 
hand to the eloquent Abba's white-haired father, congratulat- 
ing him on having so distinguished a son. 

Monsieur and Madame now moved to the Palais-Royal, in 



KIRTII OF A PRINCESS. II5 

order that Henrietta might be with her mother, during her 
accouchement. On the 21st of March, she accompanied the 
Queen-mother to another function at the Val-de-Grace, the 
sanctuary founded by Anne of Austria in thanksgiving for the 
birth of Louis XIV., and on the 24th, she gave the Spanish 
Ambassador an audience in company with tlie Queen, her 
sister-in-law. Three days later, at an early hour on the 27th, 
she gave birth to a daughter. The event was premature, 
but passed off happily. Her mother was with her at the 
time, and before six o'clock, the King and the two Queens 
arrived to offer Madame their congratulations. Both parents, 
however, were greatly disappointed at the child's sex, and 
Madame, on hearing she had given birth to a daughter, is 
said to have exclaimed, " Then throw her into the river ! " 
Her mother-in-law was much scandalised at these lamenta- 
tions, and by way of consoling Madame, observed that if she 
had not given birth to a prince, her little daughter, who was 
but a few months younger than the baby Dauphin, might 
some day yet become a Queen. Her words were destined to 
prove true, although not in the sense in which they were in- 
tended, for the little Princess, who met with so cold a recep- 
tion on her coming into the world, became the wife, not of 
the Dauphin, but of the iKing of Spain. In England the 
news was joyfully received, not only by the King, but by all 
who had seen and admired the Princess on her visit two years 
before. " We are very much surprised," wrote Lady Derby, 
" at the news you have sent of Madame's accouchement. She is 
young enough to have many sons and daughters, if she goes 
on as she has begun. I am astonished that the Queen, her 
mother, had not made all the necessary preparations. Made- 
moiselle, then, has lost her title ! " 

Henrietta now recovered rapidly, and on the 30th of April, 
according to custom, she appeared at St. Eustache with her 
infant to offer W\q. pains b^nits. The first news that she heard, 
on her return to society, was that the Marechal cle Gramont 
had obtained the command of the troops before Nancy from 
the King, for his son. The Count de Quiche afterwards dis- 
covered that he owed his removal from Court to the intrigues 
of a false friend, and, when he found that Madame was sur- 



Il6 THE COMTE DE GUICIIE LEAVES COURT. 

prised at his abrupt departure, begged the favour of a parting 
interview. This Madame imprudently granted him, and the 
next morning, the Count left for his new post. Although 
Montalais had introduced him by a private staircase into 
Madame's presence, his steps had been watched by another of 
Madame's ladies, who reported what she had seen to the 
Queen-mother of France. Anne of Austria, furious with her 
daughter-in-law, immediately informed Monsieur, that his wife 
was in the habit of holding stolen interviews with the Comte 
de Guiche. In this emergency, Monsieur, to do him justice, 
showed more good sense than usual. He dismissed Montalais 
at once, and went to his mother-in-law for advice. Queen 
Henrietta spoke seriously to her daughter, and showed her the 
folly of her conduct. An explanation with Monsieur followed. 
Madame frankly told him all that had passed between her 
and his old favourite, upon which he embraced her kindly and 
declared himself to be quite satisfied. " Any other husband," 
observes Madame de La Fayette, " would have been more 
concerned." But Monsieur was not a man of deep feeling or 
strong passions, and vexed himself and others far more over 
petty trifles than serious troubles. The episode of the Comte 
de Guiche, however, was not )'et ended, and many were the 
disastrous consequences of her own imprudence which Madame 
had yet to suffer. 



CHAPTER IX 
1662 

Carrousel &{ the Louvre — Henrietta Maria goes to England — Marriage of Charles 
II. to the Infanta of Portugal — Louis XIV. and La Valliere — Sale of 
Dunkirk — Madame de Chatillon'.s Petition — M. de Comminges sent as 
Ambassador to England: 

The winter of 1661-1662 was one of exceptional scarcity for 
the people of France. The severity of the season, following 
as it did on a bad harvest, and the high price of foreign corn, 
had produced an absolute dearth of bread. From all parts of 
the kingdom, the same cry of famine and misery was heard. 
The country groaned under the weight of excessive taxation, 
and the poorer classes were crushed by burdens that were too 
heavy for them to bear. Gui Patin, in his letters, draws a 
terrible picture of the suffering and destitution on all sides. 
Everywhere people are dying of want and disease, of poverty 
and despair. And he goes on, after his wont, to paint the 
startling contrast between the luxury and splendour of the 
Court fetes on which the King wasted millions, while his sub- 
jects were literally dying before his eyes in the streets of 
Paris. But, even at the Court of Louis XIV., the poor were 
not without friends. That Lent, Bossuet pleaded earnestly 
on their behalf, from the pulpit of the Louvre, and warned the 
King solemnly not to turn a deaf ear to the cry of his op- 
pressed people. And Louis, who was always easily moved, had 
taken measures to relieve the immediate needs of the poor at 
his gates. During these winter months, foreign corn was 
stored in the halls of the Louvre, and sold at cheap rates to 
the people of Paris, and thousands of loaves were daily given 
away at the doors of the Tuileries. The two Queens took 

an active part in these works of mercy, and the good Prin- 

117 



IlS CAUROUSIiL. 

cesse de Conti sold her jewels, and gave alms to the hospitals. 
More than this, a variety of financial reforms were effected, 
and a reduction of four millions in the taxes, granted by the 
King in the month of March, produced general satisfaction. 
The return of spring, bringing with it, as it did, some allevia- 
tion of the national distress, now became the signal for fresh 
fetes at Court. Louis XIV., having quieted his conscience 
with these attempts at reform, gave free rein to his taste for 
splendid amusements, and during the next few weeks, the 
citizens of Paris were dazzled by a succession of magnificent 
pageants. 

On the 2 1st of May, the christening of Monsieur and 
Madame's little daughter was celebrated with royal pomp in 
the Chapel of the Palais-Royal. Abb(5 Montagu officiated, in 
the absence of Monsieur's Grand Almoner, the Bishop of 
Valence. The King, the Queen, and Henrietta Maria, were 
sponsors, and the babe received the name of Marie Louise. 
The same day, a tournament was held in the great square of 
the Tuileries, and the gentlemen of the Court rode at the 
ring, after the fashion of the knights of olden time, to the 
sound of trumpets and the clang of cymbals. This was only 
a prelude to the famous Carrousel that was held on the same 
square, on the ist of June, and which gave its name to the 
quadrangle between the Louvre and the Tuileries. On this 
occasion, the knights appeared in the costume of different 
nations. The King rode at the head of the Roman squadron, 
Monsieur led the Persians, while the Queens and Princesses, 
.seated under a gorgeous canopy of cloth of gold, looked on at 
the tournament, and gave prizes to the victors with their own 
royal hands. A month later, the King gave a stag-hunt at 
Versailles, where Madame appeared on horseback, at the head 
of a party of ladies clad in grey hats and plumes, and rode 
more fearlessly than any of her companions. But she spent 
most of that summer either at Colombes, or else at Saint- 
Cloud, in the company of her mother, who was now about to 
take leave of her fondly-loved child and return to England. 
On the 25th of July she left Paris, and was escorted on her 
journey as far as Beauvais by Mon.sicin' and Madame. Here 
J lenrictta and her mother parted, not without many tears, and 



MARRIAGE OF CHARLES II. II9 

Monsieur took his wife to Chantilly, ^vhere the Prince cle 
Conde entertained them royally, during the next few days. 
The hero of Rocroi had always been a kind friend to the 
English royal family, and was proud to do Madame the 
honours of his beautiful home of Chantilly, which Madame de 
La Fayette calls the loveliest of all the places that the sun 
shines on. The great soldier, who seldom showed himself at 
Court, liked to collect his friends about him for hunting parties 
and theatrical performances, and show them the pictures and 
other treasures which adorned the galleries of Chantilly. The 
nobleness of his character attracted thoughtful natures. He 
was an intimate friend of Bossuet, whom he had known in his 
student days, and Madame de La Fayette was one of the ver)- 
i'ew ladies with whom he ever cared to converse. After this 
jjleasant visit. Monsieur and Madame joined the Court at 
Saint-Germain, where they had rooms in the Chateau Neuf, the 
palace which Henri Quatre had built in the midst of terraced 
gardens on the banks of the Seine, close to the ancient castle 
of the French Kings. There they spent the rest of the summer, 
with the occasional diversion of a visit to their own house at 
Saint-Cloud, until the approach of the winter found them once 
more settled at the Palais-Royal, which now became their 
[:)ermanent town residence. 

All this time, Madame kept up a frequent correspondence 
with her mother, whose presence in England accounts for the 
King's silence during the greater part of this year. Charles 
was never fond of writing letters, and the regularity with 
which his mother and sister exchanged letters was a good 
excuse for the laziness to which he so often pleads guilty. 
All we have in the first half of 1662 is one letter, written on 
the 23d of May, from Portsmouth, two da}'s after his wedding. 
The Infanta landed at Spithead on the 20th, and the marriage 
was performed by the Bishop of London on the following day 
at Portsmouth. Charles was agreeably impressed with his 
J'ortuguese Avife, but by no means gratified with the manners 
of her suite. These " Portingall ladies," as Lord Chesterfield 
calls them, with their huge forctops, their monstrous fardin- 
gales or guardinfantas, and their ridiculous notions of propriet}% 
made themselves sufficiently " unagreeable " from the first 



120 THE NEW QUEEN. 

They refused to go out of doors, for fear they might be seen 
by men, and would not even consent to sleep in any lodgings, 
without first ascertaining if they had been previously occupied 
by any of the other sex. And they and their priests buzzed 
round the Queen, Charles complains, like so many hornets. 

" I cannot easily tell you," wrote the King to Clarendon, 
"how happy I think myself; and I must be the worst man 
living, which I hope I am not, if I am not a good husband. 
I am confident never two humours were better fitted together 
than ours are. We cannot stir from hence till Tuesday, by 
reason that there are not carts to be had to-morrow to 
transport all our guarda infantas (there were a hundred 
members in the suite), without which there is no stirring; so 
you are not to expect me till Thursday at Hampton Court." 

To Henrietta he wrote in a similar strain. 

" My Lord of St. Alban's will give you soe full a description 
of my wife as I shall not go about to doe it, only I must tell 
you I think myselfe very happy. I was married the day 
before yesterday, but the fortune that follows our family is 
fallen upon me, car Monseigneur le Cardinal uia ferni^ la 
porte an nez I But I flatter myself I was not so furious as 
Monsieur was, and shall let this passe. I intend, on Monday 
next, to go towards Hamton Court, where I shall stay till the 
Queene (Henrietta Maria) comes. My dearest sister, continue 
your kindnesse to me, and beleeve me to be intierly yours, 

" C. R." 

"And yet," wrote Lord Chesterfield, who knew his master 
too well, " I fear all this will hardly make things run in the 
right channel. If it should, our Court will require a new 
modelling." His misgivings proved only too correct. 

During the next two or three months, the King was 
entirely taken up with his wife. Her sweetness and naivete 
pleased him ; her very ig4;iorance tickled his fancy. He forgot 
his mistress for the time, and was as well amused as a child 
with a new toy. Ikit, before long, Lady Castlemaine resumed 
her old influence, and, when he insisted on forcing the Queen 
to receive her at Court, Clarendon had to remind him how 



HENRIETTA MARIA IN ENGLAND. 12 1 

strongly he had blamed the conduct of Louis XIV., in allow- 
ing La Valliere to live under Madame's roof, and appear in 
his wife's presence. Charles had even been heard to say that 
"he should never be guilty of such a piece of ill-nature, for, if 
ever he could be guilty of keeping a mistress after he had 
a wife, she should never come where liis wife was." 

His next letter to Madame, curiously enough, contains an 
allusion to the French King's behaviour on this point, but 
this time he wisely abstains from making any comparison with 
his own, and does not allude to his wife, although he speaks 
of his mother with the tenderest affection. 

" Whithall, 

"8 Sept, 1662. 

" I am soe ashamed for \\\Qfaute I have committed against 
you that I have nothing to say for myselfe, but ingenuously 
confesse it, which I hope in some degree will obtaine my 
pardon, assureing you for the time to come I will repair any 
past failings, and I hope you do not impute it in the least 
degree to wante of kindnesse, for I assure you there is nothing 
I love so well as my dearest Minette, and if ever I falle you 
in the least, say I am unworthy of having such a sister as you ! 
The Queene has. tould you, I hope, that she is not displeased 
with her being heere. I am sure I have done all that lies in 
m)'' power to lett her see the duty and kindnesse I have for 
her. The truth is, never any children had so good a mother 
as we have, and you and I shall never have any disputes but 
only who loves her best, and in that I will never yield to you. 
She has shewed me your letters concerning your quarrell with 
the K., and you were much in the right. He has too much 
ingenuity not to do what he did. If I had been in his place I 
should have done the same. The Chevalier de Gramont 
begins his journey to-morrow, or ne.xt day ; by him I will 
write more at large to you. I am doing all I can to gett him 
a rich wife heere. You may thinke this is a jeste, but he is in 
good earnest, and I believe he will tell you that he is not dis- 
pleased with his usage heere, and with the way of living; and 
so farewell, my dearest Minette, for this time. — I am intierly 
yours, C. R." 



122 LA vai.lii;kl:. 

The quarrel with the King, to which Charles alhides, was 
a fresh dispute, which had been caused by La ValHere's con- 
tinued presence in Madame's household. The King's liaison 
with her was now a recognised fact at Court. Every fete 
which the King planned, was in reality given in her honour. 
She was the true queen of love and beauty who presided at 
the famous Carrousel. Another might occupy, the throne, or 
hand the victor his prize, but La Valliere was the mistress 
before whose eyes her royal lover rode at the ring. Clarice, 
as the courtiers called her, was the soul of all \h^fites. Poems, 
full of veiled meanings, were written on the loves of the King, 
and recited before the unconscious Queen. And when, in 
masquerade or ballet, the Court poets put verses in La 
Valliere's own lips that told her love, when she recited 
Benserade's lines : — 

" Et je ne pense pas que dans tout le village, 
11 se rencontre un cccur mieux placd que le sien," 

the applause of the listening courtiers showed that the poet's 
meaning had not been lost upon the audience. Only Marie 
Th^rese still remained ignorant of her husband's unfaithful- 
ness, and it was not until a year later, when the Comtesse de 
Soissons revealed the truth to her, that she became aware of 
the full extent of her wrongs. She still looked upon Madame 
as her sole rival, and hated her accordingly. Naturally, 
Henrietta resented this injustice, and repeatedly begged the 
King to remove his mistress from her household. It was hard, 
to say the least, that she should be hated for the fault of 
another. At length Louis acknowledged his mistake, and 
La Valliere was given separate apartments, and appeared 
no longer among Madame's ladies. And when, in the 
spring of 1663, her condition rendered fiuther concealment 
impossible, she moved to the Palais Prion, a house in the 
gardens of the Palais-Royal, which the King gave her as a 
residence. 

During the latter half of 1662, negotiations between France 
and England were carried on with great frequency, and Louis 
attained what had long been a chief object of his polic}% the 



SALE OF DUNKIRK. 1 23 

cession of the port of Dunkirk. At the time of Madame's 
marriage this had been already proposed, but .Charles then 
shrank from the unpopularity which such a measure could not 
fail to entail. Now, however, his throne appeared to be more 
secure, and his want of money was greater than ever. Accord- 
ingly he agreed to sell Dunkirk to France for the sum of five 
million French livres. " The King of England," writes Bussy 
de Rabutin, "has turned into a shopkeeper. He has sold us 
Dunkirk, and I hope we shall buy London to-morrow ! " And 
the French Secretary describes Charles II.'s satisfaction, when 
the first three millions of money were sent over in boats, and 
he rode to the Tower, to see the newly-arrived gold deposited 
in his coffers. 

In October, Ralph Montagu, the second .son of Lord 
Montagu of Boughton, was sent to Paris, with two letters 
addressed to Madame, the one for her eyes only, the other, 
which was written in French, intended to be shown to Louis 
XIV. In both, Charles declares his wish to conduct future 
correspondence on state affairs with the King, through his 
sister, rather than through their respective Ambassadors, and 
expresses his opinion that, by this means, both countries are 
likely to be drawn more closely together. 

" Whithall, 

"26 Oct. 1662. 

" I shall not neede to say much to you by this bearer, Mr 
Montagu, he is so well instructed as he will informe of all that 
passes heere. I will only tell 3^ou that nothing but pure neces- 
sity and impossibility hath kept me hitherto from paying 
what I owe you, but I will now put it into so certayne a way, 
as you shall begin to see the effects of it very speedily, and I 
assure you it hath more troubled me the not being able to pa)" 
it then the wante of that summe can be to you. The man 
that makes the Innetts d'aproche has been very sicke, which is 
the cause I have not sent you one all this while, but now he 
promises me one very speedyly. I will say no more to you 
at this time, becau.se I will not prevent this bearer in what he 
shall say, only I will trust nobody but myself in telling you 
how truel}' I am yours, C. R." 



124 madame's dowry. 

" London, 
"26//: Oct. 1662. 

" I avail myself of the permission which you have given 
me, to assure you of the continuation of those sentiments 
which you approve, and of my intentions to employ all the 
means that are most likely to attain the fulfilment of our 
wishes. Nothing" can better serve this end, than a close 
friendship between the King, my brother, and myself, and I 
assure you that this consideration was my chief reason in 
making this last Treaty, for an intimate alliance between us. 
In this I am persuaded that we shall have the advantage of 
your intervention, and if you think fit to propose that we 
should communicate our thoughts to each other through you, 

I shall be very glad, knowing how much this mutual con- 
fidence will assist in promoting our friendship. I have desired 
this bearer to inform you and the King, my brother, of the 
present state of our affairs, and of the object I pursue. He 
\m\\\ assure you of all the imaginable respect which I cherish 
for your person, and of my wish that you should become the 
witness and mutual pledge of the friendship that binds me to 
the King, my brother. I leave all further particulars to this 
])orter. ^ C. R." 

The King's next letter mentions the payment of Madame's 
long-delayed dowry, and the recent Anabaptist riots. He 

" LONDRES, 

"fi? 2^th Oct. 1662. 

* " Je me sers de cette liberie que voiis av(5s agre^, pour vous asseurer de la 
continuation des sentimens que vous aprouv^s, et de mon dessin d'employer tous 
les moyens les plus ci>nvenables pour faire reussir nos desirs, a quoi je ne con- 
sidere rien de plus utile que I'amitie intime enlre le Roy mon frere et nioy, et je 
vous asseure cpie cette consideration ni'a persuadi^ fortement a faire ce dernier 
traite pour Her ime correspondence fort estroitle entre nous, en{|uoy ie suis fort 
persuade <le vostre intervention, et s'il vous plait de luy proposer que nous 
puissions communiquer nos penc^es par cette voye particuliere de nos mains, i'en 
seray fort aise, connoisant combien cette confiance reCjiproque contribuera a 
entrelenir nos amities, j'ay donne charge k ce porteur de vous entretenir et le Roy 
mon fr^re de I'estat present de mes affaires, et de la poursuite que ie me propose. 

II vous asseura de tout le respect imaginable que j'ay jiour vostre personne, et du 
desire (jue j'ay, (jue vous soyes lesmoin et caulion commvuie de i'amilic entre le 
l\oy mon frcre et moy, me remullant particiiiiereniunl a ce |)(iilein'. 

"C. K." 



A DUEL. 125 

also alludes to a request made by Monsieur, on behalf of two 
of his favourites, the Prince de Chalais and his brother-in-law, 
Alexandre de la Tremouille, Marquis de Noirmoustier. These 
two young noblemen had been engaged in a recent duel, which 
arose from some foolish quarrel at the Palais-Royal. One of 
their opponents, a brother of the Due de Beauvilliers, had been 
slain, and Chalais and Noirmoustier had fled, fearing to incur 
the heavy penalties to which they were liable. The practice 
of duelling had of late years become so common among the 
gilded youth of France, that Bossuet had denounced it in one 
of his Lent sermons before the King, and Louis had deter- 
mined to put a stop to it by stringent measures. Me now 
absolutely refused to pardon the culprits, and, as a last resource, 
Monsieur tried to enlist his royal brother-in-law's good offices 
on behalf of his friends. Charles, with his usual good nature, 
promised to do his best, and sent an envoy across to Calais, 
to bear his request to Louis XIV., who was then inspecting 
the frontier fortifications. The King, however, was inflexible, 
and spoke so strongly to his brother, that Monsieur did not 
even venture to allow the English envoy to address him on 
the subject. Chalais died in exile, and his brother-in-law, who 
had only served as his second in the duel, was allowed to 
return to France the following year, but never again to show 
his face at Court. In April 1664, at Monsieur's request, he 
obtained the command of an English regiment at that time 
serving in Portugal, and was slain in a battle against the 
Spaniards. 

" London, 
"4 of Nov. 1662. 

" I will not trouble you with an answer concerning the 
business of Noirmoutier and Chalais, because I have done it 
to Monsieur, so as I refer you for that matter to his letter ; 
the chiefe businesse of this letter shall be to tell you that I 
am now settling a certaine funde for the payment of what I 
owe you, which I assure you had not been so long undone 
but that my condition has been such hetherto, as there was 
no possebility of doeing it till now, and I promise you it has 
given me very much trouble and shame, that I could not per- 



126 POSTS TO ENGLAND. 

forme what I so much desire, and to one I love so well as you. 
By my next you shall h^ve a more certaine accounte, and I 
dout not but to your satisfaction. You will have heard before 
now of the alarums we have had from the risings heere of the 
anababtists, but our spyes have played there parts so well 
amongst them, as we have taken many of them, who will be 
hanged very speedily, so as I believe for this time, there de- 
signes are broken. This is all I shall say to you at this time, 
but be assured that I will ahvais have as much care of all your 
interests, as of his who is intierly yours, C. R." 

" Whithall, 

" 21 Nov. 1662. 

" I shall despatch my L'^ Garret to-morrow with my compli- 
ments, to meete the K. of France at Calais, by him I will 
make my ernest desires for Noirmoutiers' and Chalais' pardon, 
and in case I cannot obtain it for both at least that I may 
have it for Noirmoutier, as the least fauty. The Queene read 
to me last night your letter, in which you feare that there is two 
of yours miscarried. I hope they are only lost by the post, 
for I never receaved any from you, upon the subject you men- 
tion. What is past, there is no helpe for, but for the future, 
write nothing by the post, but what you would have know, 
for to my knowledge the letters are very often opened, this 
messenger is in such hast to be dispatched as I will say no 
more but that I am intierly yours, C. R." 

These complaints of the insecurity of the post, between 
the two countries, were constantly repeated by the Ambas- 
sadors on both sides of the Channel. " Letters are opened 
more cleverly here," Comminges writes to his master, " than 
anywhere else in the world. Ce/a a le bel air." There was, at 
that time, only one postal delivery during the week, both in 
Paris and London, and even this was constantly delayed by 
bad weather and accidents on the way. Sometimes no packet 
could cross the Channel for a whole week at a time ; some- 
times, as we find from Charles' letters to his sister, the boat 
was ujiset and the courier drowned ! But still, although 
special messengers were despatched on all im[)ortant business. 



BABLON. 127 

the King and Madame continued to write to each other by the 
mail, and most of Henrietta's letters were sent by the ''ordin- 
aire " which left Paris on Sundays. 

Her next letter contains another request, this time on 
behalf of an old friend of her brother's. The lady whom 
1 Icnrietta calls by licr pet name, Bablon, was none other 
than that famous heroine of the Fronde, Madame de 
Chatillon, whose black eyes had so long made her the object 
of Mademoiselle's envy. This letter is now preserved among 
the papers on French affairs at the Record Office, and bears 
the following inscription : — " Madame, to His Majesty, in 
favour of Madame de Chastillon." 

" Paris, 
" cc 20 Noveinbrc 1662. 

" 1 am almost glad to give you an opportunity of doing 
Bablon a service. She has begged me to recommend her 
affair to you, and I assure you, that I do it most willingly, 
for I am very fond of her, and know that she is much 
attached to both of us, which is a good reason why you 
should do your best for her, even if you have forgotten old 
days. Bablon and I, we both of us thank you beforehand, 
since we have no doubt that you will do what we ask. If 
you want more news, Vivonne will give it you. He is a great 
friend of mine, and I have told him to tell you all you wish to 
know. I am sure that he will do this, if you say that it is my 
wish. I have not written to you, since I received your letter 
by M. de Montagu. I will only say that I am very well satis- 
fied with what you have done, and if I have not told you so 
before, it is because I am afraid of wearying you as much with 
my thanks as I had done with my prayers before. This is all 
I will say, excepting that I am, your very humble servant." 

We do not learn the precise nature of Bablon's request, 
but, from the King's answer, there can be little doubt that it 
was a petition for some lucrative privilege, which would 
bring gold into the pockets of this needy and extravagant 
lady. The Due de Vivonne, who was the bearer of both 
letters, and of whom Madame speaks so warmly, was a very 
accomplished person, a great favourite with Madame de 



128 M. DE COMMINGES. 

Sevigne and her friends, and brother to one of Henrietta's 
maids -of- honour, Mademoiselle de Mort^mart, afterwards 
Madame de Montespan." 

" Whithall, 

"4 Dec. 1662. 

" You may easily beleeve that any request which comes 
from Bablon will be quickly dispatched by me. I am striving 
all I can, to take away the difficulties which obstruct this 
desire of hers, which in truth are very greate, all those 
thinges being farmed, and 'tis not hard to imagine that people 
on this side the watter, love there profit as well as they do 
every where else ; I have sent to inquier farther into it, and 
within five or six dayes will give you an account, for I am 
very unwilling not to grante Bablon's desires, especially when 
they come recommended by you. In the meane time I 
referre you to this bearer, Mon"^ Vivonne, who will tell you 
how truly I am, yours. C. R." 

One more letter of Madame's belongs to this year. It 
was written from Paris on the 14th of December, and sent to 
her brother, by the hands of Monsieur de Comminges, the 
new Ambassador to England. 

" I have not troubled you often with letters lately, but 
^vhen an Ambassador starts, it is necessary to write, and I 
should not make those excuses for doing my duty, if I were 
not afraid you might think yourself obliged to answer me, 
and were not also conscious of my natural inclination to be 
troublesome. I am telling the Queen my mother all the 
news I have, and which I know she will tell you, for which 
reason I do not write it here. I should have done myself 
the honour of writing to the Queen your wife, but as she 
would not understand a word I said, I prefer begging you to 
tell her, that this is the reason why I do not trouble her. And 
I feel sure that a compliment coming from yourself, will be 
better received than one from me, although there is no one 
who honours her more than I do. I will only add that I am 
your very humble servant." 



CHAPTER X 

1663 

Pallet des Arts — Charles II. corresponds with Louis XIV. through Madame — 
Foire de Saint-Germain — Attack on the Lord Chancellor — Madame de 
Mecklembourg's Marriage — Illness of Louis XIV. 

The Court spent Christmas at Paris, engaged in a continual 
round of gaiety. Even the death of the King's infant 
daughter, Madame Anne Elisabeth de France, which hap- 
pened very suddenly, on the 30th of December, was not 
allowed to interrupt their course, for more than a few days. 
The little Princess was only a few weeks old, when she died, 
a victim to the ignorance of the Court physicians who, as 
usual, insisted on bleeding her. " Princes," remarks Gui 
Patin, " are invariably unfortunate in doctors," and the 
mortality of the King's children was indeed remarkable, four 
out of the five dying in their infancy, " hurried out of this 
world," in the second Madame's expressive phrase, " by the 
Court physician's ignorance." But the King, absorbed in his 
passion for La Valliere, had no leisure for grief Twelfth 
Day was celebrated at the Louvre, by a splendid representa- 
tion of Moliere's Ecoie des Feinmes, followed by a concert of 
Lulli's violins. The same play was repeated during the 
Carnival, on the occasion of Mademoiselle de Valois' marriage, 
and on Easter Tuesday, at a///^ given by Madame. She had 
from the first expressed the warmest admiration of Moliere's 
clever comedy, and the poet inscribed the work to her, in a 
dedicatory epistle, printed in March, 1663. On the 8th of 
January, the Ballet des Arts was performed at the Palais- 
Royal. The words were written by Benserade, the music 
was composed by LuUi. Madame herself, assisted by the 
Due de Saint-Aignan, had chosen the costumes and arranged 

I 



130 UALLET DES ARTS. 

the different entries. The various arts of peace formed the 
subject of the opening scenes. First of all came a fancy 
picture of pastoral life, one of those idyllic scenes in which 
the Court of Louis XIV. delighted. The King appeared 
dressed as a shepherd a !a Watteaii, feeding his flock by the 
streams of Arcady. Then Madame entered, attended with 
four youthful bergeres, all clad in flowery hats and ribbons of 
the brightest hues. The loveliness of the group attracted 
general admiration. Henrietta's four attendants were Made- 
moiselle de La Valliere, Mdlle de Mortc^mart, then about to 
become the wife of the Marquis de Montespan, Mademoiselle 
de Saint-Simon, whom her brother describes as " perfectly 
good and beautiful," and who soon afterwards married the 
Due de Brissac, and finally Mademoiselle de Sevign6, who, on 
this occasion, made her first appearance at Court, while her 
happy mother looked on with a pleasure which she could not 
conceal. The presence of this beloved child gave every f^tc 
a fresh charm. For her sake she becomes young again and is 
ready to cry Vive le Roi ! when Louis XIV. himself dances 
with her beautiful daughter. 

As Madame stepped forward, surrounded by these fair 
shepherdesses, the chorus took up the following verses in her 
honour, and in the last lines the Court recognised a delicate 
refutation of the libels which insolent tongues had dared to 
bring against her. 

" Quelle bergere ! quels yeux, 
A faire mourir les dieux. 
Aussi comme eux on I'adore. 
Elle est de leiir propre sang, 
Mais sa personne est encore 
Bien au-dessus de son rang, 
Des jeunes lis et des roses, 
Toutes nouvellement ^closes. 
Ferment son teint delicat. 
Enfin les plus belles choses, 
Pr^s d'elle n'ont point d'^clat. 
C'est une douceur extreme ; 
Et pour en dire i^i le mal comme le bien, 
11 est vrai tout le monde I'aime ; 
Mais apr^s son devoir, ses moutons et son chien, 
Je pense qu'elle n'aime rien. 



MADAME DE SEVIGNfi. 131 

After this dream of Arcady came different tableaux, represent- 
ing the arts of sculpture and painting, of printing and medicine. 
Then Mars and Bellona appeared on the scene, and Roman 
legionaries chanted warlike songs. Last of all Madame 
returned, this time as Pallas Athen^, robed in classic draperies, 
with helmet on her head, and spear and shield in her hand. 
The same four maidens attended her, this time not as berghes, 
but as Amazons in armour, and danced a stately measure 
round their heaven-born Queen. 

This was the famous ballet, which Madame de Sevigne 
recalls with such infinite delight, the ballet of all ballets in her 
eyes. Writing to Madame de Grignan in her far-off Proven^jal 
home, seventeen years afterwards, the old memories rise vividl}'- 
before her. Once more she sees that brilliant group, those 
faces whose loveliness she can never forget. "Ah! qicelles 
bcrgeres et qiielles amazoies ! " she exclaims, and then she 
breaks off abruptly, and drops a tear for poor Madame. 
" Madame^ que les siecles entiers auront peine a reinplacer, et 
pour la beaute, et pour la belle jeunesse, et pour la danseT The 
Ballet des Arts was a great success at the time, and was 
repeated no less than five times in the course of the winter, 
either at the Louvre or at the Palais-Royal. On the 31st of 
January, Madame gave a grand bal masqu^. Even the Queen- 
mother consented to appear masked, and the jewels and 
costumes worn were of such extraordinary splendour, that 
Ralph Montagu declared he had never seen anything to equal 
them. He went back to London in February, well pleased 
with his visit, and gave the King glowing accounts of the 
fetes at Paris and of Madame's charms. Charles asked 
nothing better than to make Whitehall as gay a place, and if, 
at his Court, there was no one to equal Henrietta in grace 
and liveliness, he managed to amuse himself and others suffi- 
ciently well, as it appears from his next letter. 

"Whithaij., 

"9/v^. 1663. 

" Mr Montagu is arrived heere, and I wonder Monsieur 
would lett him stay with you so long, for he is undoubtedly in 
love with you, but I ought not to complain, he haveing given 



132 TREVOR'S MISSION. 

me a very fine sword and belt, which I do not beleeve was out 
of pure liberality, but because I am your brother, he tells me 
that you passe your time very well there. We had a designe to 
have had a masquerade heere, and had made no ill designe in 
the generall for it, but we were not able to goe through with 
it, not haveing one man heere that could make a tolerable 
entry. I have been perswading the queene to follow Q- 
mother of France's example and goe in masquerade before 
the carnavall be done, I beleeve it were worth seeing my L'' 
S' Albans in such an occasion. My wife hath given a good 
introduction to such a businesse, for the other day she made 
my L'l Aubigny and two other of her chaplins dance countr}^ 
dances in her bed chamber. I am just now called for to goe to 
the Play, so as I can say no more at present but that I am 
intirely yours, C. R." 

My Lord Aubigny, the churchman who danced for his 
royal mistress's pleasure on this occasion, was I'Abb^ Lodovico 
Stuart d'Aubigny, the fourth son of the Duke of Richmond 
and Lennox, who had been lately appointed Grand Almoner 
to the Queen. He is probably the dignitary to whom Charles 
II. alludes as M. le Cardinal in a former letter, although he 
steadily refused to accept a Cardinal's hat, for which dignity 
he was repeatedly recommended. 

On the 1 6th of February, an envoy was despatched to 
Paris, to remove certain difficulties which had arisen over the 
entry of the new Ambassador, M. de Comminges. The King, 
after his habit on previous occasions, sent two letters by the 
bearer, Sir John Trevor, to Madame, one written in French, 
the other in English. 

" London, 
"i6 Fed. 1663. 

" The great wish that I have, not to leave any doubt in the 
King my brother's mind as to the perfect friendship that 
exists between us, has induced me to send this gentleman. Sir 
John Trevor, to satisfy him as to my reasons with respect to 
M. de Comminges' demand for an audience. I have also 
charged him, to let you know them, wishing that you should 
understand, how anxious I am to satisfy the King, my brother, 



FOIRE DE SAINT-GERMAIN. 133 

in all points, as far as the welfare of my Kingdom allows. 
The difficulty in question, involves the maintenance of regula- 
tions which greatly concern the peace and safety of the cit)' 
of London. I beg you to believe this, and to endeavour to 
explain my intentions in the right way, since I desire no- 
thing more anxiously, than to retain the perfect friendship 
of the King my brother, and to prove to you how much I 
cherish the honour of your own, ClIARLES R."^ 

" Whithali,, 

" 16 Feb. 1663. 
" I send this bearer, Sir John Trevor, to the King my brother, 
about a business which, though it may seeme at first to be of 
a very slite nature, I assure you it may prove of dangerous 
consequence to me. He will informe you of the particulars, 
and then you will see that it cannot be of any consequence to 
France, only may be of a very ill one to me. The parliament 
is to meete againe after to-morrow, which gives me so much 
businesse to prepare all thinges for that purpose, as I hope 
you will excuse me if this letter be a little shorte. I have sent 
Mon"" Vanderdoes a la foyre de S' Germain to buy little 
thinges to play for heere. I had not time to write to you b}' 
him, as he desired, and I thinke you know him so well, as it 
will be sufficient to introduce him into your presence when he 
comes, and so my dearest sister farewell for this time. 

" C. R." 

The Foire de Saint-Germain was at that time an event of 

" De Londres, 
'^ ce 16. Fevrier 1663. 

^ " Le grand desire que i'ay de ne laisser aucune ombrage dans I'esprit du Roy 
mnn frere, a I'esgard de I'amitie parfaite establye entre nous, m'a persuade de luy 
envoyer ce gentilehome, le S"" Trevor, expres pour le satisfaire de mes raisons sur 
la deniande que fait Monr de Cominges son Ambassadeur pour son audience. Je 
I'ay charge aussi dc vous en faire parte, ayant la mesme envie, que vous demeuriez, 
|X"rsuadee de nion desir de satisfaire an Roy mon frere, en tout ce que le bien de 
mon estat peut permettre, et la difficulte dont il est question, n'a autre veue que 
celle de conserver un reglement, qui regarde fort la paix et la surete de la ville de 
Londres. Je vous supplie d'en estre persuadee et de conlribuer a faire bien 
entendre nics intentions en cettc occasion, ne desirant ricn plus fortcnient quo de 
conserver la parfaite amitie du Roy mon frere, et de vous donner des preuves de 
combien je ch^ris I'honneur de la vostre. Chari.ES R." 



134 FOIRE DE SAINT-GERMAIN. 

great importance in the gay world of Paris. It was held 
yearly, on the market place close to the ancient church of 
Saint-Germain des Pr^s, and lasted from the 3d of February to 
the last week of Lent. During these seven or eight weeks, the 
Fair became the meeting-place of the whole Court. Royal 
ladies drove there in hired coaches, with servants in gre)' 
liveries, by way of remaining incognito, and made purchases 
in the bazaars, tried their luck at lotteries and games of 
chance, admired the tricks of the Indian jugglers and perform- 
ances of strolling players, or had their fortunes told by gipsies 
and astrologers. Rows of shops lined the streets, which were 
as many as nine in number, and merchants of all nations 
offered their wares for sale. Persian carpets and Venetian 
brocades, costly tapestries and rare gems, old lace and ivories 
and bronzes, lacquered cabinets from Coromandel and Japan, 
mirrors and perfumes were bought and sold there. Made- 
moiselle, who was in the habit of going to the Fair every day, 
in order to make purchases for herself and her friends, con- 
fessed to Cardinal Mazarin that there were only three things 
which she really missed during her exile from Court— her daily 
rides on the Cours de la Reine, the evening masquerades, and 
the Foire de Saint-Germain. At night the streets were illumin- 
ated with torches, and the splendour of the bazaar, and rich 
attire of the ladies present, made the scene very brilliant. In 
these early years of Louis XIV.'s reign, this annual fair had 
attained a world-wide reputation. Strangers from all coun- 
tries came there to see the sights and pick up curiosities, 
and English ladies especially, always eager to know the 
" fashones " and have pretty things from France, were fond of 
sending commissions to their friends for " trinkets and fannes, 
little wooden combes," or " dainty silver brushes for cleaning 
the teeth," which were among the latest novelties of Paris. 

This year, the presence of the Court and of a royal visitor 
in the person of the Prince of Denmark, gave fresh lustre to 
the Carnival gaieties. Poor Mademoiselle, who had incurred 
the King's displeasure by her refusal to marry the King of 
Portugal, and had again been ordered to retire to her estates, 
heard with a sigh of the masques and balls at Court. Two 
weddings were also celebrated with great pomp — one was that 



ILLNESS OF THE QUEEN-MOTHER. 1 35 

of M. le riincc's eldest son, the Due d'Enghien, to a daughter 
of the Princess Palatine, the other that of her step-sister, 
Madennoiselle de Valois, to the Duke of Savoy, one of the few 
royal personages, whom she herself had thought worthy of her 
hand. Another marriage, still more interesting in Madame's 
eyes, took place in the spring of 1663. This was that of her 
old friend Madame de Chitillon, to the Duke of Mecklem- 
bourg. Charles II. pitied her for going to live in Germany, but 
the new Duchess had expressly stipulated for leave to spend 
as much of her time in France as she chose, and soon made 
her appearance at Court again. "People say," remarks Gui 
Patin, " that the Duke of Mecklembourg has sent three things 
back to the King — his collar of the Saint-Esprit, his wife and 
his religion," alluding to the Duke's prompt return to the 
Lutheran faith, which he had abandoned during his residence 
in France. 

Lent brought a brief lull in this round of amusements, and 
for a time, sermons and services took the place of balls and 
comedies. The two Queens were assiduous in their devotional 
exercises, and the ladies of the Court followed their example, 
by frequently attending functions at Val-de-GrAce or Chaillol, 
or making pilgrimages to the Dominican shrine on Mount 
Val^rien. Easter was about to bring a renewal o{ fetes, when 
the Queen-mother fell dangerously ill. For some weeks her 
life was in danger, and she was tenderly nursed by the King, 
whose devotion to his mother, both by day and night, touched 
Madame de Motteville deeply. He listened with remorse to 
her reproaches, and even promised to reform his ways, but no 
sooner had the Queen recovered, than these good intentions, as 
might have been e.xpected, were forgotten. After taking a pil- 
grimage to Chartres, in fulfilment of a vow which he had made 
during his mother's illness, Louis XIV. renewed his liaison with 
La Valliere, and in the autumn of that year his mistress gave 
birth to a son. Suddenly, towards the end of May, the King, 
who had gone to Versailles for a few days, caught the measles, 
and became dangerously ill. There was consternation both in 
the Court and country, and the fever ran so high, that for three 
days his life was despaired of. Happily, by the end of that 
time, the attack passed off, and the royal patient recovered as 



136 LOUIS XIV. FALLS ILL. 

rapidly as he had sickened. " I am still shaking with fright," 
wrote his minister, M. de Lionne, to England. " On Friday, 
His Majesty's life was in danger, up till twelve o'clock. On 
Saturday afternoon, he was at work with his secretaries as 
usual." Madame showed her wonted courage in the general 
panic, and went to see the King at the height of his illness, 
fearless of the risk to which she exposed herself The news of 
the King's danger had time to reach London, and Charles II. 
hastened to send a messenger of inquiry to Versailles. The 
following letters to his sister contain allusions to this event, 
and mention Lord Bristol's attempt to bring a charge of high 
treason against Clarendon in the House of Lords. The session 
had been a stormy one, but on the whole Charles con- 
gratulated himself, that it had passed off better than he 
had expected, and begged his sister not to be disturbed 
by contrary reports. 

Madame had been greatly concerned at this attack on her 
brother's old and tried servant, and the whole proceeding had 
excited much attention in France, where the independence of 
English members of Parliament was a matter of constant 
amusement. Comminges cannot contain himself, and writes 
that he is at his wit's end, when he sees Lord Bristol, the man 
who has ventured to bring these charges against the Lord 
Chancellor, and what is more, the father-in-law to the King's 
own brother, walking about as usual, and playing on the 
bowling-green, without fear of the Bastille. He concludes 
that England will very soon be tired of Monarchy, and 
will set up another Commonwealth, and is more than ever 
puzzled over this strange constitution, which, according to 
him, owed its origin partly to the book of Daniel and the 
laws of the Medes and Persians, and partly to William the 
Conqueror, 

" Whithall, 
"5 March, 1663. 

" I writt to you yesterday by de Chapelles (the husband 
of Madame de Fiennes), who will tell you what a cruell cold I 
have gott, which is now so general 1 a disease heere, after the 
breaking of the frost, that nobody escapes it, and though my 
cold be yett so ill, as it might very well excuse my writting, I 



SEALING-WAX. 137 

thought it necessary to lett you know that the Queene, my 
mother, findes an absolute ease of the headache which she had 
all night, by being lett blood this afternoone, and she findes 
so greate benefitte by it, as I hope her cold will in two or 
three dayes be gone, espetially if the wether continue so faire 
and warme as it is to-day. Excuse me that I say no more at 
this time, for really this little holding downe my head makes 
it ake, my dearest sister I am intierly yours. C. R." 

"Whithall, 
"28 March, 1663. 

" You may be sure, that I would not have missed so many 
posts, but that I have been overlayd with businesse. I give 
you many thanks for the concerne you shew in my L^ of 
Bristol's businesse ; you see I have had reasonable good 
successe in that matter, I have only failed in not takeing 
him, but you know how hard 'tis to finde out one who is 
cunning enough, in so great a towne as this. I was very 
neere it once or twice, I am iust now informed that he is gon 
out of England, how true 'tis I cannot tell, but that shall not 
make me the lesse watchful! against his mischiveous purposes, 
nor make me lesse diligent in seeking after him. The bill 
passed in the house of commons for the repeale of the 
Trieniall bill, and all thinges goes on in both houses as I 
can wish, I am to much Madame de Ch&tillon's servant, to 
tell her that I am glad that she is married into Germany ; if 
she knew the country, that's to say the way of liveing there, 
and the people, so well as I do, she would suffer very much 
in France, before she would change countries, but this is now 
past, and I shall desire you to assure her that, upon any 
occasion that lies within my power, I shall ever be ready 
to serve Bablon. I thanke you for the wax to seale 
letters, you sent me by de Chapelles. I desire to know 
whether it be the fashion in France, for the wemen to 
make use of such a large sise of wax, as the red peece 
you sent me ; our wemen heere finde the sise a little 
extravagant, yett I beleeve when they shall know that 'tis 
the fashion there, they will be willing enough to submitt 
to it, and so I am yours. C. R." 



138 CHARLES II.'S LETTERS. 

" Whithall, 
"20. Aprill, 1663. 

" You must not by this post, expect a long letter from me, 
this being Jameses (the Duke of Monmouth's) marriage day, 
and I am goeing to sup with them, where we intend to dance 
and see them a bed together, but the ceremony shall stop 
there. The letters from France are not yett come, which 
keepes me in paine, to know how Queene-mother does, I hope 
James Hamilton will be on his way home before this comes 
to your handes. I send you heere, the title of a little booke of 
devotion, in Spanish, which my wife desires to have, by the 
derections you will see where 'tis to be had, and pray send 
two of them by the first conveniency. My dearest sister, I 
am intierly yours." 

" Whithall, 
"27 Aprill, 1663. 

" Hamilton came last night to towne, and was so weary 
with his journey, as he was not able to render me a full 
account of all that you commanded him, yett he hath sayd 
so much to me, in general), of the continuance of your kind- 
ness to me and the obligations I owe you, that I cannot tell 
how to expresse my acknowledgements for it. I hope you 
beleeve I love you as much as 'tis possible, I am sure I would 
venture all I have in the world to serve you, and have nothing 
so neere my harte, as how I may finde occasions to expresse 
that tender passion I have for my dearest Minette. As soone 
as I have had a full account from Hamilton, of all you have 
trusted him with, you shall heare farther from me, in the 
meane time be assured that all thinges which comes from 
you, shall never go further than my own harte, and so for 
this time, my dearest sister, adieu. C. R." 

"Whithall, 

" II May, 1663. 

"If I do not write to you so often as I would, it is not 
vc\y faute, for most of my time is taken up with the business of 
the Parlament, in getting them to do what is best for us all, 
and keeping them from doeing what they ought not to do, 
and though I finde by Hamilton, that there is greate in- 



CHARLES II.'S LETTERS. 139 

deavours used in France, to persuade all men there, that 
this parlament does meane me no good, yett, you will see, 
before they parte, that they will shew there affections to me, 
by helping me in my revenue. I hope you have, before this, 
fully satisfied the King my brother of the sincerity of my 
desire to make a stricte alliance with him, but I must deale 
freely with you, in telling you that I do not thinke that his 
ambassadore heere, Monr de Cominges is very forward in the 
businesse. I cannot tell the reasons which make him 
so, but he findes, upon all occasions, so many difficultyes, as i 
cannot chuse but conclude, that we shall not be able to 
advance much in that matter with him, therfore I am 
hastening away my L^ Hollis with all possible speede, to let 
the King my brother see that there shall nothing rest, on my 
parte, to the finishing that entier frindship I so much desire ; 
my wife sends for me iust now to dance so I must end, and 
can only add that 1 am intierly yours. C. R." 

"Whit HALL, 

*'25 May, 1663. 

" I receaved yours by your expresse yesterday, and dis- 
patch this bearer, my L'' Mandeville, imediately to know how 
the King my brother does. You may easily beleeve that the 
newes surprised me very much, and by the sircumstances you 
write to me of his sicknesse, it apeares to be very dangerous, 
which keepes me in continuall paine till I heare from you 
againe, and the disease is such as before this time the matter 
must be desided one way or other. I shall not say any 
thing now to you, upon any other subject, till I know what 
becomes of this, only to tell you that there is nothing 
in this world I thinke my selfe so happy in, as to see the 
continuance of your kindnesse to me, and I beg of you to be 
assured that I am as sensible of it as 'tis possible, and that 
nothing can alter me from being intierly yours. C. R." 

" Whithall, 

"25 May, 1663. 

" Though I send my L^ Mandeville, on purpose to see how 
the K. of France does, yett this bearer haveing made such dili- 
gence hither, I beleeve will be first with you, therfore I add 



I40 LORD HOLLIS. 

these few lines, only to thanke you for giveing me so timely 
notice of this ill accident, and to desire you upon any change, 
that you will advertise me of it, which is all I have to say for 
this time, but that I am intierly Yours. C. R." 

" Whithall, 
" 2t\Ju?te, 1663. 

" I shall not say much to you, by this bearer, my L'^ Hollis, 
in writting, because I have ordered him to entertaine you at 
large, upon all I have trusted him with, by which you will see 
the kindnesse and confidence I have for you, for I am sure I 
will never have a secret in my harte, that I will not willingly 
trust you with, and there is nothing I will endeavour more, 
then to give you all sortes of testimonyes, how truely and 
passionately I am Yours. C. R." 



CHAPTER XI 
1663 

InUigiies ofDe Vardes and the Comtesse de Soissons — Illness of Queen Catherine 
— Lord Hollis sent as Ambassador to France — The Quarrel of the 
Coaches — Madame becomes the true Ambassador. 

That summer, the Queen-mother's long illness kept the 
Court in Paris till the end of July. She herself never left 
the Louvre until, on the i ith of August, four months from the 
day on which she was first taken ill, she went to Notre Dame 
with her daughter-in-law, Marie Th^rese, to return thanks for 
her recovery. The King and Monsieur and Madame be- 
guiled the time by frequent excursions to Versailles or Saint- 
Cloud. Sometimes a few days were spent at Vincennes or 
Saint-Germain, where the ladies of the Court amused them- 
selves with the strangest variety of sports. At one time 
swinging was the fashion, at another tobogganing, then colin- 
maillard or hide-and-seek. When Monsieur and Madame 
paid a second visit to Chantilly that autumn, a stag-hunt by 
torchlight was invented by way of novelty for Henrietta's diver- 
sion. Boating was another of her favourite pastimes. On 
fine summer days, Madame and her ladies would row on the 
Seine, in a richly-decorated barge, which Charles H. had lately 
given his sister. 

On May ii, 1663, we find that a certain George Piatt 
received " the sum of £4. for his own expenses and those of ten 
watermen, who conveyed the Princess d'Orleans' barge to 
Paris." Another waterman, Ben Huskins by name, was paid 
los. for work done to the said barge, by order of Sir George 
Carew. This barge was painted blue, the cushions and hang- 
ings were of blue velvet, embroidered with gold. " The whole 
most royal and gallant in appearance, " a fitting present," said 

141 



142 A WATER-PARTY. 

the Court Gazetteer, '* from the King of the sea to his fair 
sister." Both the French Queens, Marie Th^rese and Anne of 
Austria, often borrowed Madame's barge for their trips on the 
Seine, and the Court poets were never weary of praising its 
beauty and swiftness. Happy they who set foot on this 
magic bark, they sang, for their journey cannot fail to prosper, 
and Loves and Zephyrs will waft them gently to the desired 
haven. 

A graceful writer at the Court, who was also one of Henri- 
etta's most faithful friends, the Comtesse de Br^gis, gives a 
poetic description of one of these water-parties, in the summer 
of 1663, when Monsieur and Madame, or, as the writer prefers 
to style them. Prince Orondate and Princess Statira rowed 
up the Seine, to spend the day at Saint Cloud. There, they 
happened to meet a party of English travellers. Madame, 
with her usual grace, insisted that these subjects of the King 
her brother should become her guests, and herself did them 
the honours of the palace. They saw the rich suite of rooms 
which she occupied, her boudoir with its lacquered walls and 
Indian cabinets, the allegorical frescoes of the ceilings, and 
the chapel with Mignard's altar-piece. Then the English 
strangers passed into the gardens, watered by a thousand 
crystal streams, and saw the wonderful 7W cTeaii which seemed 
to lose itself in the skies, and to descend in showers of spark- 
ling dew-drops, over woods and lawns. Both Monsieur and 
Madame conversed with their guests with the utmost kindness 
and freedom, and invited them to sit down to a collation 
spread in the gardens. At nightfall, the whole party rowed 
down the river to Paris. Madame, enchanted with the beauty 
of the starlit heavens, bade the rowers lay by their oars, and 
let the boat drift slowly down the stream. So, with pleasant 
talk and song, they floated under the stars, until the current 
became more rapid, and the bridges of the city came in 
sight. All too soon the end of the journey was reached, and 
the travellers went on their way, bearing with them a de- 
lightful memory of the most charming of princesses. On 
such occasions Madame won all hearts. As Cosnac and 
Madame de La Fayette say, there was no one like her. 

Unfortunately, this irresistible attraction was the source of 



DE VARDES' INTRIGUES. 143 

perpetual trouble. The Comte de Guiche was gone, it is 
true. Madame had vowed that she would never see his face 
again, and had begged the King, his master, to ask him for 
the letters which she had written to him. Louis, who himself 
joined the army in Lorraine that autumn, complied with her 
request, and was so well pleased with the frank and honour- 
able way in which the Count behaved, that he pardoned his 
past indiscretions, and honoured him with repeated marks of 
his regard. The campaign ended with the surrender of the 
town of Marsal, and the Count obtained leave to go and fight 
against the Russians, in Poland, where he distinguished him- 
self by prodigies of valour, and was severely wounded in one 
hard-fought battle. A bullet struck him on the chest, and 
a case containing Madame's portrait, which he wore next to 
his heart, was shattered into atoms. 

Meanwhile, at home, there was already more than one 
pretender to the place which he was supposed to hold in 
Madame's heart. The Due de la Rochefoucauld's eldest 
son, the Prince de Marsillac, had long been desperately in 
love with her, and although he received little or no encourage- 
ment, the extravagance of his behaviour excited Monsieur's 
jealousy, to such a pitch, that his father was forced to send 
him away. Then M. d'Armagnac, a member of the ducal 
house of Lorraine, and Grand Ecuyer. de France, annoyed 
lier with his attentions, and would not see how disagreeable 
they were, until the Archbishop of Sens interfered at 
Madame's request, l^ut the most persevering, and by far 
the most dangerous of her adorers, was the Marquis de 
Vardes, one of the ablest and most unscrupulous men at 
Court. As first gentleman of the bed-chamber, he had won 
the King's ear, and his ready wit and polished manners made 
him acceptable in the brilliant coterie to which Madame de 
Sevign6 belonged. His epigrammatic sayings, and the dex- 
terity with which he turned awkward situations to his ad- 
vantage, were proverbial. " De Vardes V^ exclaims Madame 
de Sevign6, " Toujour s De Vardes ! He is the gospel accord- 
ing to the day ! " This thorough villain, whose intrigues with 
both the Comtesse de Soissons and Madame d'Armagnac, the 
Grand Ecuyer's wife, had been well-known, now determined 



144 INTRIGUE OF DE VARDES. 

to make Madame his mistress, and laid his designs with the 
utmost skill. He began by blackening his absent friend, the 
Count of Guiche, in her eyes. Next, he took care to excite 
Monsieur's jealousy by drawing attention to Marsillac's follies, 
and having thus cleared the ground of these two rivals, he 
tried by every art in his power, to ingratiate himself into 
Madame's favour. Henrietta became his dupe, only too 
easily. She lent a willing ear to his artful insinuations, 
honoured him with her confidence, and even showed him her 
brother Charles H.'s letters. While the Court talked openly 
of De Vardes' successful intrigue, Madame herself looked 
upon him as the lover of the Comtesse de Soissons, and had 
not the least suspicion of the man's infamous designs. But 
one day, when news of the Comte de Quiche's heroic exploits 
in Poland reached the Court, Madame, touched at the thought 
of the dangers to which her old lover was exposed, said in 
De Vardes' hearing, " I believe I care more for the Comte de 
Guiche, than I knew before." From that day, De Vardes 
saw that his plans had failed, and in his anger and hatred 
vowed to ruin both Madame and her absent friend. Above 
all, he resolved to destroy the King's confidence in his sister- 
in-law, and during the next few months, he took every op- 
portunity of poisoning his master's mind against this innocent 
Princess. He told Louis that she carried on a treacherous 
correspondence with her brother, and spoke of her as a very 
dangerous and intriguing person, while on the other hand, he 
inspired Madame with distrust of the King, and did his best 
to make mischief between them. Traces of these suspicions 
appear in Madame's letters to her brother, during this year, 
and we see how much her daily life was embittered by these 
miserable intrigues. But she knew that in him she had at 
hand one friend, to whom she could always turn, whose 
sympathy was always ready, and whose powerful help was at 
her service, in her worst troubles. 

On the 22d of July, 1663, she wrote to him from Paris. " The 
courier I had sent you, came back two days ago, and brought 
me the worst news I could possibly receive, in telling me that 
my hopes of seeing you were, after all, to be disappointed. 
Everyone here does not share my feelings, and the highest 



CHARLES AND HIS WIFE. r45 

are as much pleased as I am grieved. I should indeed be in- 
consolable, if you had not led me to hope that your intended 
visit was only postponed. I will cling to that hope, and still 
believe that you keep a little love for your poor Minette, who 
certainly has more for you than she can express. You tell 
me, that someone has spoken ill of a certain person, to the 
Queen your wife. Alas ! is it possible that such things are 
really said ? I, who know your innocence, can only wonder ! 
But to speak seriously, I beg you to tell me how the Queen 
has taken this. Here, people say she is in the deepest 
distress, and to speak frankly, I think she has only too 
good reason for her grief As to this kind of thing, there is 
trouble enough here, not as with you through the Queen, but 
through mistresses. I have told Crofts all particulars. If 
}'ou are curious to know them, he can tell you. Adieu, I am 
more your servant than anyone in the world." 

The King was probably too hardened a sinner in this 
respect, to feel much remorse at this remonstrance from his 
favourite sister, but it is worthy of note that just at this time 
he paid considerable attention to his wife, and, much to Pepys' 
surprise, appeared in the Park, riding hand in hand with the 
Queen, " looking mighty pretty in her white-laced waistcoat 
and crimson short petticoat." Lady Castlemaine was there 
too, " looking mighty out of humour, and wearing a yellow 
plume of hat, which colour," observes Pepys, " all took notice 
of" But the King took no notice of her, "nor did she so 
much as smile or speak to anybody." At the end of July, 
Charles accompanied his wife to Tunbridge Wells, to drink 
of what Comminges calls " the waters of scandal," since he 
remarks, " most of the Court seem to leave their reputation 
behind them there." Pepys began to wonder if this coldness 
to Lady Castlemaine were not caused by the King's fancy 
for the Queen's new maid-of-honour, " pretty Mrs Stuart," who 
" with her hat cocked and a red plume, her sweet eyes, little 
Roman nose and excellent taille," is, he thinks, the greatest 
beauty he has ever seen. It would be interesting to see how 
Charles tried to justify himself to his sister. Unfortunately, 
his answer to Madame's letter of July 22d is missing, and 
the next letter we have is a short note about a present of 

K 



146 QUARRELS AT COURT. 

horses, which he was anxious to send Monsieur. Charles 
always managed to remain on friendly terms with his brother- 
in-law, however much he disliked and despised him in his 
heart. He loses no opportunity of sending him a civil 
message, or doing him a kindness, and Monsieur in return 
addressed frequent letters to the King of England. Many of 
these, sealed with black and fastened with elegant pink silk, 
are still preserved at the Record Office, but they are, for the 
most part, of a purely formal character. 

"Whithall, 

"25 Au^. 1663. 

" I have kept this bearer, Haughser, some dayes, in hopes 
to have founde some good horses, to have made a present of 
them to Monsieur, but in ernest they are so harde to be founde 
heere, as I have not been able to finde any that I like ; how- 
ever, I have sent 4 which I desire you to give them to him, in 
your name, for I do not think them worth a formall present, 
and such as they are, 1 assure you, I have chosen them out of 
twenty. This being the only businesse of this letter, I shall 
end it with desiring you to continue your kindnesse to me, 
which I esteeme above all thinges, and be assured that I am 
and ever will be intierly yours. C. K." 

The autumn was spent partly at Vincennes, and partly at 
Monsieur's country-seat of Villers-Cotterets, a royal chateau 
built by Francis I., in the midst of the vast forests near the 
town of Laon. By the end of October, the Court was back 
in Paris, and during the winter months Madame kept up 
a brisk correspondence with her brother. One result of 
De Vardes' intrigues was to excite perpetual jealousies 
and quarrels among the ladies who surround ed Henrietta. 
Madame d'Armagnac and Madame de Montespan laid their 
heads together to try and banish Madame de Mccklcmbourg, 
and actually induced Monsieur to forbid his wife to receive 
her. Madame, naturally indignant at this arbitrary act, ap- 
pealed to the King, who took Madame de Mecklembourg's 
part, upon which Monsieur sulked after his wont, and carried 
his complaints against his wife to the Queen-mother, who 
still looked coldly on her daughter-in-law. Charles H. took 



QUEEN Catherine's illness. 147 

great interest in the dispute, since it concerned his old friend 
Bablon, and expressed his sympathy with his sister in two 
different letters. His own wife was just recovering from the 
dangerous illness, which had threatened, at one moment, to 
end her life. The feeling shown by Charles on this occasion, 
surprised the whole Court, most of all the French Ambassador, 
who wrote home, that he had never seen His Majesty so 
deeply affected. " None the less," he adds, " he supped with 
Lady Castlemaine, and had his usual talk with Mrs Stuart, of 
whom he is excessively fond." Comminges, however, was of 
opinion, that the Queen owed her life entirely to her husband's 
courage in dismissing the Portuguese attendants, who sur- 
rounded her bed with lamentations, and kept her awake 
during two whole nights, first making her draw up her will, 
and then take leave of them all. A French gentleman, M. de 
Cateux, Avas sent over, with messages of condolence and 
inquiry from Louis XIV., and had returned to Paris, with the 
news that the Queen was now pronounced to be out of 
danger. A few days afterwards, Charles wrote as follows : — 

"Whithall, 

"2 Nov. 1663. 

" I could not write more to you by Mon"" Cateux, haveing 
then the collique, which troubled me very much, but I thanke 
God 'tis now perfectly over, and pray make my excuse to the 
King of France and Monsieur, that I write to them in an 
other hande, for, seriously, I was not able to make use of my 
owne, Mr Montagu did shew me your letter concerning the 
businesse you had about Mad. de Chatillon, and without being 
partiall to you, the blame was very much on the other side. I 
was very glad that the King tooke your parte, which in 
Justice he could not do lesse, I do more wonder that other 
])eople who had more yeares did not do the like, and then 
Monsieur would not have continued so much in the wrong. 
You will have heard of the unluky accident that befell the 
French Ambassadour at my L^ Maior's feast, I was very much 
troubled at it, my L"^ Maior has been since with him, to give 
him all imaginable satisfaction, and I hope he is now fully 
]3ersuaded that it was a meere misfortune, without any farther 



148 COMMINGES AFFRONTED. 

intent, though I must tell you, that the Ambassadore is a man 
very hardly to be pleased, and loves to raise difficultyes even 
in the easiest matters. 

" My wife is now out of all danger, though very weake, and 
it was a very strange feaver, for she talked idly fouer or five 
dayes after the feaver had left her, but now that is likewise 
past, and desires me to make her compliments to you and 
Monsieur, which she will do her selfe, as soone as she getts 
strength, and so my dearest sister, I will trouble you no more 
at this time, but beg of you to love him who is intierly yours. 

<'C. R." 

The unlucky accident to which the King alludes, was an 
affront, which Comminges conceived to have been intentionally 
done him, at a Guildhall dinner, where he had been a guest. 
Owing to some mistake, the Lord Chancellor and several of 
the Council were already seated at table, when the Ambassador 
arrived, and, since they made no apology, Comminges retired 
highly affronted at what he terms "■ cette incivility grosse et 
barbare." He refused to accept the ample apologies tendered 
by the Lord Mayor, and would not be satisfied until the King 
himself had expressed his sincere regrets for this unfortunate 
occurrence, and had gratified him by remarking that the bad 
manners of the English towards foreigners were already but 
too well known. 

In his next letter Charles mentions the marriage of his 
favourite, the Chevalier de Gramont, who had found in his 
belle Hamilton, if not the rich wife he sought, a lady of rare 
beauty and virtue. 

" Whithall, 
" 1 1 Nov. 1663. 

" I have nothing to say to you by this bearer, Lusan, but 
to tell you that I have dispatched all, on my parte, in order to 
the mariage, and I hope the young couple will be as happy as 
I wish them. This bearer tells me, that all thinges are now- 
adjusted, concerning the dispute about Madame de Chatillon, 
for whomc, you know, I had more than an ordinary inclina- 
tion, and pray remember my service to her, and tell her that 



RECOVERY OF THE QUEEN, 149 

upon all occasions I shall alwais declare my selfe on her side. 
I have no more to add, but that I am intierly yours. 

" C. R." 

On the 13th of November, Madame wrote the following 
note to her brother, recommending some petitioner, who craved 
for redress, to his notice. " The bearer, whose daughter has 
been carried off, has begged me to ask you, to see that he may 
obtain justice, and, indeed, he has so much right on his side, 
that I doubt not, but that you will be able to help him. This 
being the sole object of my letter, I will only assure you that 
I am your humble servant." We find no reply to this appeal 
in the King's letters, and Charles probably contented himself 
with referring the matter to one of his ministers. 

" Whithall, 

" 20 Nov. 1663. 

" I shall say little to you by this bearer, le Chevalier de 
Clairemont, because I will dispatch Mon"" d'Araquin, in a day 
or two, only by way of advance, I thanke you and Monsieur 
for the great part you take in the recovery of my wife. She 
mends very slowly, and continues still so weake as she cannot 
yett stande upon her leggs, which is the reason she does not 
thank you herself, but she does constantly desire me to do it 
both to you and Monsieur, and so, my dearest sister, farewell 
for this time. C. R." 

"Whithall, 

" 10 Decern. 1663. 

" I have receaved yours, in which you take notice of the 

rcceite of myne, by the Marquis d'Araquin, and you shall see 

that I will be very punctual in writing to you every weeke. I 

am now dispatching the judges into Yorkeshire, to try those 

rogues that had the late plott, and I beleeve a good many of 

them will be hanged, and, to prevent all further mischief of 

that kinde, I am in deliberation of raysing two regiments of 

horse more, of 500 men a peece, the one to lye in the north, 

and the other in the west, which will, I doute not, for the 

future, prevent all plotting. My wife is now so v/ell, as in a 

few dayes, she will thanke you herselfe for the consernement 

you had for her, in her sicknesse. Yesterday, we had a little 



I50 "PRETTY PIOUS PICTURES." 

ball in the privy chamber, where she looked on, and, though 
we had many of our good faces absent, yett, I assure you, the 
assembly would not have been disliked for beauty, even at 
Paris it selfe, for we have a great many yong wemen come 
up, since you were heere, who are very handsome. Pray send 
me some images, to put in prayer bookes. They are for my 
wife, who can gett none heere. I assure you it will be a 
greate present to her, and she will looke upon them often, for 
she is not only content to say the greate office in the breviere, 
every day, but likewise that of our Lady too, and this is 
besides goeing to chapell, where she makes use of none of 
these. I am iust now going to see a new play, so I shall say 
no more, but that I am intierly yours. C. R." 

Madame hastened to comply with her sister-in-law's re- 
quest, and sent her a handsome selection of the " pretty pious 
pictures," which Pepys admired, when he visited her Majesty's 
bed-chamber. 

The King's next three letters are devoted to a fierce 
struggle, which arose over one of those knotty points of pre- 
cedence, to which Louis XIV. attached such great import- 
ance. The new English Ambassador, Denzil, Lord Mollis, 
had been sent to Paris in June 1663, but, before his public 
entry could take place, there were several difficult questions 
to be settled. The point which excited most discussion, was 
his claim to take precedence of the Princes of the blood, a 
right which Louis XIV. absolutely refused to acknowledge. 
Charles, on his part, was equally resolute in the maintenance 
of a right which had been invariably claimed by his father's 
ambassadors, and the quarrel of the coaches, as it was termed, 
was prolonged during several months. At length Madame, 
after vainly trying to effect a compromise, suggested that the 
public entry should be given up, but that the Ambassador 
should be presented to Louis XIV. at Saint-Germain. This 
actually took place in the following March, much to the satis- 
faction of both parties, who agreed in giving Madame credit 
for having, by her tact and skill, succeeded in settling a ques- 
tion which, but for her, might have been attended with serious 
consequences. 



THE QUARREL OF THE COACHES. I5[ 

" Whithall, 

" 28 Decern. 1663. 

" I did not write to you the last post, it being Christmas 
eve, and I was preparing my selfe for my devotions, but I bid 
J. H. (James Hamilton) make my excuse to you, since which 
time, I have scene both your letter to the Queene, and my L^ 
Holliscs to the secretary, concerning the pretention of the 
Princes of the blood, about my L*^ Hollises entry, and truly I 
thought that I had found out a very faire expedient to avoyde 
all dispute, in proposing that there might have been no entry 
at all, but that he might have gone derectly to his audiance, 
which, considering all former presadents, who are cleerly on 
our side, ought not to be refused on the side of France ; for I 
finde, bj- the recordes of S" Thomas Edmonds, my L"^ Scuda- 
more and the Earle of Lesester, who were all three Ambassa- 
dors in France, the two latter being now alive, that it was 
cleerely desided on their side. 'Tis true, that when the princes 
of the blood saw they could not gett there pointe, they forbore 
sending ther coches, and I hope when the King my brother 
sees that it has been alwais the coustume, that he will not 
insist to bring in a new methode, which is so contrary to right 
and reason. I wonder very much that the P. of Conde should 
say, that ever I yeelded the presedence to the King of Spaine, 
and I thanke you for holding up our right so handsomly as 
}ou did, for I assure you I am so farr from that, that I will 
not j-eelde it to any King whatsoever. But to returne to the 
former matter, I do not finde that Mon"" de Lionne has made 
anything apeare on there sides, to my L^ Hollis, only the 
mayne argument is, that the King of Spaynes ambassadore 
and some others have submitted to it, which is no rule at all 
to me, for they have no power to give away my right, and it 
would be a \ery unreasonable argument, that because others 
will parte with there right, therfore I must parte with m}me. 
I enlarge m}'selfe the more upon this matter, that you may be 
full)' informed of the truth of it, and know what to say in it, 
there is nobody desires more to have a strict frindship with 
the K. of France than I do, but I will never buy it upon 
dishonorable termes, and I thanke God my condition is not 
so ill, but that I can stand upon my owne leggs, and beleeve 



152 - QUARREL OF THE COACHES. 

that my frindship is as valuable to my neighbours, as theres is 
to me. I have reason to beleeve that the french Ambassadore 
heere, is no greate frinde to this place, otherwise these had 
been much more advanced in the stricte aliance with France, 
then there is. I am certain his informations thither are not at 
all to our advantage, and now and then very farr from the 
truth. I say this, that you may know, that I have the same 
good inclination for a true frindship with the King there, I 
ever had, and that it is not my faut if it do not succeede, 
according to my inclinations and desire. I thinke this letter 
is of a sufficient length, therfore I will conclude with assuring 
you that I am entierly yours. C. R." 



" Whithall, 

"4/^2;/. 1664. 

" I have sent this post the extracts of the letters to my 
L^ Hollis, by which you will see how much reason I have to 
stande upon the right my father had, touching the precedency 
of my ambassador's coach, before those of the Princes of the 
blood there ; I do assure you I would not insist upon it, if I 
had not cleerely the right on my side, for there is nobody 
that hates disputes so much as I do, and will never create 
new ones, espetially with one whoes frindship I desire so 
much as that of the King of France, but on the other side, 
where I have reason, and when I am to yeelde, in a pointe by 
which I must goe lesse then my predesessours have done, I 
must confesse that consernes me so much, as no frindshipe 
shall make me consent unto. I am very glad that le Conte 
de Gramont is so well receaved there, and I hope he will 
receave the effects of it. My wife thankes you for the care 
you have in sending her les images. We are both going to 
supper to my Lady Castlemaine's, so I have no time to add 
anything to this letter, but that I am yours entierly. 

" C. R." 

" Whithall, 

''\ZJan. 1664. 

I am very glad that I receaved yours of the 19th before 
that which the Comte de Gramont brought. You .see that I 
have reason to insiste upon a matter, which is so cleerely my 



LOVE OUT OF FASHION, 153 

right, and whensoever I tell you anything which afterwards 
proves not to be so, I must be very much consoned (cozened) 
my selfe, for I will never deceevc you, but I will say no more 
on this subject, being confident that the examples I sent, will 
put an end to all dispute, and then my L'' Hollis will enter 
upon his negociation, and proceede with greater francknesse 
and ingenuity than your ambassadore does heere, by which 
you will perceave that the delay has not layne on this side ; 
and I cannot chuse but tell you, betweene you and me, that 
this Ambassadore is good for nothing, but to give malicious 
and wrong intelligence. I finde J. Hamilton in greate paine 
about the letter you writt to him, and that he should be re- 
presencl there as a person who strives to put division upon all 
occasions between France and us. I do assure you he is very 
farre from it, and pray upon any proper occasion do him the 
justice, as to disabuse them there. My L'' Fitz-harding has 
acquainted me with your letter, concerning Mon"" de Turenes' 
niece. I think you beleeve that the relation she has to him, 
would make me very glad to serve her upon any occasion, 
but I am affraide I shall not be able to do her the service I 
could wish, for I finde the passion Love is very much out of 
fasion in this country, and that a handsome face without 
mony has but few galants, upon the score of marriage. My 
wife thankes you very kindly for the images you sent her, 
they are very fine ones, and she never saw such before. I 
have not had yctt time to talke with the Contc de Gramont, 
he is so taken up with his wife, as I have scarse seen him 
these two days that he has been heere, but that fury continues 
not long, and I beeleve he will be as reasonable in that point 
as most men are, and then I will give you a farther account 
of our conversation, and so I will end my letter with assure- 
ing you that I am intierly yours. C.R." 

Mademoiselle de Duras was the niece of Mar^chal de 
Turenne, whom Madame had recommended the King, through 
Lord Fitzhardinge, as her brother's faithful servant Charles 
l^erkeley had now become. This young lady, one of Henri- 
etta's maids-of-honour, apparently thought of going to England 
to join her brother, Louis de Durfort, captain of the Duke of 



154 LORD IIOLLIS. 

York's guards. Eventually, however, she seems to have given 
up her intended journey, and certainly did not succeed in 
finding an English husband, for she died unmarried in 1679. 

" Whithall, 

" 17 March 1664. 
"I did not write to you the last post, because I had so 
much business in order to the parlament, as I had no time. 
This day I receaved a letter from my L^ Hollis, in which he 
gives me an accounte of his audience, which I am very well 
satisfied with, and his whole treatement there, and pray lett the 
King my brother know how well I am pleased with it, and 
that upon all occasions I will strive, if it be possible, to out doe 
him in kindnesse and frindship. He tells me, likewise, how 
much I am beholding to you in all his businesse, which I 
assure you I am very sensible of, and though it can add 
nothing to that entier kindnesse I had for you before, yett it 
gives me greate joye and satisfaction to see the continuance 
of your kindnesse upon all occasions, which I Avill strive to 
diserve by all the endeavors of my life, as the thing in the 
world I value most. The Queen showed me your letter about 
the operation done upon M'="^ Montosier, and by her smile, 
I beleave she had no more guesse at the meaning than you 
had at the writing of the letter, I am confident that this will 
be the only operation of that kinde, that will be don in our 
age. It may be you will understand this no more than what 
you writt in your own letter, but I do not doute you will very 
easily gett it to be explayned, without going to the Sorbone, 
therefore I neede add no more, but that I am intierly yours. 

" C. R." 

Lord Hollis himself was the first to acknowledge his 
obligations to Madame. " I must do Madame right," he 
wrote home, " who, only by her dexterity and wisdom, carried 
on and managed all this business, and brought it to that point 
where it now is." The stern Puritan had bowed to Henrietta's 
charms, and a little later on we find his royal master laughingly 
telling his sister that my Lord Hollis is undoubtedly in love 
with her, and that his wife is already beginning to grow 
jealous. Unfortunately the new Ambassador was of too 



MADAME THE REAL AMBASSADOR, 155 

punctilious and too irascible a nature to prove a successful 
diplomatic agent, and if Comminges vexed the easy-going 
King by his readiness to take offence over trifles, Hollis gave 
Madame constant trouble by his, "uncertain humours" and 
quarrels over points of etiquette. The result of the mutual 
distrust with which both Kings regarded their Ambassadors, 
was that Henrietta became their regular channel of communi- 
cation, and during the next few years, all the most important 
correspondence between Charles II. and Louis XIV. passed 
through her hands. 



CHAPTER XII 
1664 

Fetes at Paris and Versailles an«.l Fontainebleau— Court Intrigues — Disputes be- 
tween Lord irollis and the French Ministers — Negotiations with Holland. 

The winter months of 1664 were marked by the ws,w^ fites, 
both at the Louvre and Palais-Royal. On the 19th of 
January, MoHere's new play, Le Manage force, was acted at 
the Louvre, and repeated, by Madame's desire, at her house a 
month later, with musical interludes and dances. The King 
himself appeared in Egyptian costume, in one of the ballets, 
and he and the Queen and Monsieur all took parts in the 
Ballet des Av202i7's Deguise's, which was performed at the 
Palais-Royal, on the 6th of February. Madame de Montespan 
and Mademoiselle de Sevigne both appeared in the character 
of nymphs, but Henrietta herself was prevented, by her state 
of health, from taking any active part in the performances. 
Neither was she able to be present at the six days' feie 
given by the King, early in May, in the gardens of Versailles. 
A succession of tournaments, masques, and comedies delighted 
the eyes of the Court. Moli^re's Princess d' Elide was com- 
posed expressly for that occasion ; his Mariage forc^ was re- 
peated, and the three first acts of Tartuffe were performed 
for the first time. Lord Hollis, in a despatch of the 12th 
of March, mentions an accident which Madame had met with, 
at a bal uiasgii^ gxvQn by the Queen-mother to please her son, 
in the Carnival week. " The Court," he writes, " removes 
hence very suddenly to St Germain, and after to Fontaine- 
bleau for all the summer, that the building of the Louvre may 
be followed. I think Madame's keeping her bed, put it off for 
some days, which is to be yet for five days longer, by reason 

156 



A MEDIA NOCI/E. 157 

of a fall she had, Tuesday night at the Louvre, by her foot 
catching in a ribbon which hung down at her masking gown, 
and that, very heavy with jewels, might have made the fall 
very dangerous against the silver grate upon which she was 
coming, if a gentleman (M. Clerambault, I think) had not 
stayed her. But, God be thanked, she hath not the least hurt, 
only the trouble of always lying, and not putting her foot to 
the ground for nine days." 

As soon as Madame was able to move, she and Monsieur 
went to Saint-Cloud, taking the Queen-mother with them, in 
King Charles's beautiful barge. There her health improved, 
and towards the end of May she joined the rest of the Court 
at Fontainebleau. Mademoiselle, whose quarrel with the 
King had been made up now, appeared on the scene once 
more, and describes a brilliant viedianoche, or midnight fete 
on the canal, that took place one midsummer night. The 
fete, she remarks, was really in honour of La Valli^re, who 
now took daily promenades with the King, in the eyes of the 
whole Court. But Madame was also present, and it was 
noticed that neither Madame d'Armagnac nor Madame de 
Montespan were among the guests, an omission which gave 
great offence to Monsieur, and was regarded as a proof of the 
King's secret understanding with his sister-in-law. 

Madame was at that time in constant correspondence with 
her brother, and Louis XIV. found her mediation too useful to 
dispense with her services. The following letters from Charles 
II. belong to this period : — 

" Whithall, 

"■1&, March 1664. 

"The Parlament has sat ever since Monday last, and if 
they continue as they have begun, which I hope they will, I 
shall have great reason to be very well pleased with them. 
The Lords' house has refused all sortes of adresses from my 
L"^ of Bristol, upon the account of his disobeying my proclama- 
tion, and not rendreing himselfe, as he is therein commanded, 
and this day his wife brought a petition to the house doore, 
but could not gett one of the Peeres to deliver it ; the other 
adresse, which he sent the first day of the meeting, was sent 



158 CHARLES AND HIS PARLIAMENT. 

sealed to me, without ever being opened, and the truth is, 'tis 
rather a h'bell than a petition ; what his next eforte will be, I 
cannot tell, but I beleeve he will add to those crimes and 
follyes he has already committed. As it is, he has put it out 
of any of his frindes power, to mediate for him. The house of 
Commons are now upon breakeing that wilde act of the 
Trieniall bill, which was made at the beginning of our troubles, 
and have this day voted it, so that now it wants nothing but 
puting it into forme. The truth is, both houses are in so good 
humour, as I do not doute but to end this sesion very well. 
By the letters I have receaved from my L'' Mollis, he has, by 
this time, demanded commissioners to treate with him, and 
I hope that treaty will go on, to all our satisfactions ; I am 
sure there shall be nothing wanting, on my parte, to bring it to 
a good conclusion. My L*^ Hollis writes such letters of you, 
as I am affraide he is in love with you, and they say his wife 
begins already to be jealous of you. You must excuse me, 
as long as the parlament sitts, if I miss now and then a post, 
for I have so much businesse, as I am very often quite tired, 
and so, my dearest sister, I am intierly yours. C. R." 

"Whithai.l, 

"19 May 1664. 

" I have ben all this afternoon playing the good husband, 
haveing been abroade with my wife, and 'tis now past twelve 
a clocke, and I am very sleepy. I thought I should have had 
a word from you, about this accident which fell out betvveene 
our nephew and Mon"" d'Estrade at the Hage ; the secretary 
I cannot well tell what to say upon the matter, but me thinkes 
hath written both to my lord Hollis and M'^ Montague about it. 
it is a strange thing, that at the same time that the Princes of 
the blood in France, will not yeelde the place to my am- 
bassadore there, that the french ambassadore at the Hage 
should goe out of his way, to make a dispute with my nephew. 
I would be glad to know your opinion upon this businesse, 
for it concernes you, in all respects, as much as me. I hope 
you will pardon me for haveing mist writing to you so many 
posts, but the truth is, I had very much businesse at the end 
of the parlament, which hindrced me, and I hope you will 



DISPUTES WITH HOLLAND. 159 

thinke my paines not ill imployed, when I shall tell you that 
never any parlament went away better pleased then this did, 
and I am sure that I have all the reason in the world to be 
well satisfied with them, and when they meete againe, which 
will be in November, I make no dout but that they will do all 
for me that I can wish, and so good night for I am fast a 
sleepe. C. R." 

The incident at the Hague to which Charles alludes was 
a quarrel between Monsieur d'Estrades, formerly Ambassador 
in England, and the boy-prince, William of Orange. Their 
coaches had met in the Foreholt, and the French Minister had 
refused to give way to the Prince. A great crowd had 
assembled, but fortunately the contending parties did not get 
beyond angry words, and the tumult that appeared imminent 
was avoided. 

The King's next letter gives us the first intimation of the 
war that was shortly to break out between England and the 
States-General. Charles himself had no liking for the Dutch, 
and his personal animosity against Jean de Witt, had been 
increased by the Grand Pensioner's refusal to invest the 
young Prince of Orange with the [dignity of Stadtholder, 
formerly held by his father. Great jealousy of the Dutch was 
also felt by the English merchants. The newly - formed 
African Company complained loudly of the injuries inflicted 
by Dutch seamen on their settlements, and at the close of 
the session an address had been presented by both Houses of 
Parliament to the King, begging him to demand reparation 
from the States. Sir George Downing was accordingly 
despatched to the Hague, but the temper of both nations was 
too warlike for much prospect of peace to be entertained on 
either side, and before long, open hostilities were commenced. 

" Whitiiali,, 

^^2 June 1664. 

" This bearer has been so long resolving to leave this 
place, that I did not beleeve he would goe, till I see now his 
bootes are on, and he has taken his leave of me, and he gives 
me but a moment to write this letter, for 'tis not a quarter of 
an houer since he was looseing his mony at tenis, and he 



l6o , WARLIKE FEELING IN ENGLAND. 

should have been gone, two howers agoe. I am affraide he 
comes very h'ght to you, for though his wife has her loade, I 
feare his purse is as empty, haveing lost very neare five 
thousand pounds within these three monthes. You will heare 
of the misfortune I have had at Tanger. We are not verj- 
certaine that the governer is dead, but I am very much 
affraide that those barbarous people have given him no 
quarter ; whosoever, he is taken, and ^vhat is become of him 
God knowes. S^ George Downing is come out of Holland, 
and I shall now be very busy upon that matter, the States 
keepe a great braging and noise, but I beleeve, when it comes 
to it, they will looke twise before they leape. I never saw so 
great an appetite to a warre as is, in both this towne and 
country, espetially in the parlament-men, who, I am confident, 
would pawn there estates to mainctaine a warre, but all this 
shall not governe me, for I will lookc meerly what is just and 
best for the honour and good of England, and will be very 
steady in what I resolve, and if I be forsed to a warre, I shall 
be ready with as good ships and men, as ever was scene, 
and leave the successe to God. I am just now going to dine 
at Somerset House with the Queene, and 'tis twelve o'clocke, 
so as I can say no more, but that I am yours. 

" C. R." 

On the 22d of June, Madame wrote from Fontainebleau 
as follows : ' I have already written to you several times, on the 
little affairs, which concern my Lord Hoilis. I reall)' think 
you must send him imperative orders to conclude them, if 
things are not to remain, as I am told they now are. For 
from him, I do not hear the least thing, since I told him that 
I did not think him right to vex himself so much over points 
of no importances. It is the justest thing in the world that 
he shall have certain privileges, but since these are not accord- 
ing to the custom of the country (a la mode du pays), and the 
King offers to deprive Comminges of them, to my mind there 
is nothing more to say. Milord Hoilis is offended because 
Lionne (the Secretary of State) has not addressed him as your 
Excellency. As a matter of fact, he had always done this, 
but since the other never styled him so in return, he grew 



THE LITTLE MADEMOISELLE. l6l 

tired and gave it up. The same thing has happened with M. 
le Chanceher. They agreed to adopt this style, and M. le 
ChanceHer having addressed Milord Hollis as Your Excellenc)% 
he replied by a simple Votis, which enraged the other to the 
last degree. Nothing, however, advances, and I am in despair 
to think all should be at a standstill for such trifles. I am 
called to go to the comedy, and can only assure you that I 
am your very humble servant." 

In another letter, now missing, Madame gave her brother 
a description of her little girl, who was now a lovely child of 
two years old, and, she declared, exactly like Charles himself. 
She also informed the King that she had invested a sum of 
money, on behalf of this little Mademoiselle, in the newly- 
formed French East India Company, which Louis XIV. had 
taken under his royal patronage, and which at that time 
attracted much attention both at Court and in the country. 
In reply, Charles wrote his sister a merry letter, laughing at 
the notion of his niece's striking likeness to himself, which he 
is sure, exists only in her mother's fancy, and expressing great 
incredulity over the prospects of the new East India Company. 
The letter is not preserved in the French Archives, but be- 
longed to M. Donnadieu's collection, and was first published 
by Mrs Everett-Green. 

" This bearer, Mr Walters, being one of my servants, and 
having asked me leave to go into France to see the country, 
I would not let him kiss your hands, without a letter. I see 
you are as hot upon setting up an East India Company, at 
Paris, as we are here upon our Guinea trade. We are now 
sending away eight ships thither, to the value of ^^^50,000, and 
I have given them a convoy of a man-of-war, lest the Dutch 
in those parts might do them some harm, in revenge for our 
taking the fort of Cape Verde, which will be of great use to 
our trade. I hope my niece will have a better portion than 
what your share will come to, in the East India trade. I 
believe you might have employed your money to better uses, 
than to send it off so long a journey. I hope it is but in a 
compliment to me, when you say my niece is so like me, for 
I never thought my face was even so much as intended for a 

L 



l62 A SUDDEN GUST. 

beauty. I wish, with all my heart, I could see her, for at this 
distance I love her ; you may guess, therefore, if I were upon 
the place, what I should do ! I am very sorry that Lord 
Hollis continues these kind of humours ; I have renewed, by 
every post, my directions upon it, and have commanded him 
to proceed in his business, and not to insist upon trifles. I 
am newly returned from seeing some of my ships, which lie 
in the Hope, ready to go to sea, and the wind has made my 
head ache so much, as I can write no longer, therefore I can 
say no more but that I am yours. C. R." 

Another short letter, dated the 19th of June (O.S.), was 
written after receiving Henrietta's complaints of Hollis, and 
probably a day or two before the above. 

"Whithall, 

" \() June 1664. 

" I writt to you yesterday by the post, whereby you will 
have a full answer to yours, I shall therefore say little to you 
now, only that I am so confident both of your kindnesse to 
me and of your discretion, as I shall ever put the greatest of 
my secretts into your hands. The cheefe businesse of this 
letter is to accompany this bearer, Mon'' Le f^vre, my apoti- 
cary, who I send to Paris about some businesse which con- 
cernes his trade. I will only add that I am Yours 

" C. R." 

Ten days later, Charles resumes his account of the Dutch 
negotiations, which were still continued, in spite of occasional 
hostilities, between the ships of both nations, off the coast of 
Guinea. The "sudden gust" of royal displeasure, to which 
the Due de Navailles owed his disgrace at the French Court, 
was a fresh result of the intrigues of De Vardes and his cast- 
off mistress, the Comtesse de Soissons. After vainly en- 
deavouring to ruin La Valli^re, in the King's eyes, the 
Countess had revealed her secret to the Queen, and had told 
Louis XIV. that Madame de Navailles, the first lady-in- 
waiting, was Her Majesty's informant. The King promptly 
dismissed that lady from her post, and when her husband 
ventured to remonstrate, he was included in his wife's dis- 



DISGRACE OF THE DUG DE NAVAILES. 163 

grace. Both the Duke and Duchess, Mademoiselle informs 
us, were persons of irreproachable virtue, but too frank to 
retain the King's favour long, and their removal was deeply 
regretted by the two Queens, and, indeed, by all persons of 
merit. 

" Whith.\ll, 

'■'■ 2-] June 1664. 

" The last letter I writt to you, I had so great a paine in my 
head, as I could not make an end of my letter. I did intend 
to have tould you then, of the Holland Ambassadore's being 
arrived heerc ; he had two private audiences before his pub- 
hque one. If his masters be but as aprehensive of a warre 
with us, as he in his discourse seemes to be, I may expect to 
have very good conditions from them, and I have reason to 
beleeve by the letter they writt to me, there feares are no 
lesse at home. For, after takeing great paines to assure me 
of the great affection they have for me, they desire by all 
meanes that I will not lett my ships, which I am prepareing 
goe out to sea, least, by the indiscretion of some of the 
captaines, the quarrell might be begun. And they promise 
me, that they will not send out more men of warre, but such 
as are of absolute necessity to looke to the East India fleete 
and fishermen, and they desire me, that I would likewise give 
it under my hande, that those ships which I sett out may 
not fight with thcre.s. You may guessc, by such a simple 
proposition, whether these people are not affraide ! I have 
made no other answer to all this, but that I do intend, very 
speedily, to dispatch S' George Downing into Holland, and 
by him, they shall have a returne of all this. I am very 
sorry for Mon"" de Navaile's misfortune, I see Madame de 
Fiennes will ^rather venture the stormes at sea, then those 
suden gustes with you at land ! I do not doute but that 
your wether there, is as hott as ours heere, no body can stirre 
any where, but by watter, it is so very hott and dusty. I am 
iust now cald away, by very good company, to sup upon the 
watter, so I can say no more but I am entierly Yours. 

" C. R." 



CHAPTER XIII 

1664 

Birth of the Due de Valois — Intrigues of Dc Vardes — Letters of Charles II. and 
Renewal of Negotiations — Madame endeavours to recover her Father's 
Jewels. 

On the i6th of July, Madame gave birth to a son at Fontaine- 
bleau. The event was hailed with acclamation throughout 
the country. There were bonfires and rejoicings all over 
France. Even Gui Patin, who had no love for the Royal 
Family, records the little Prince's birth with great satisfaction, 
and expresses fervent hopes for the welfare of the new Due de 
Valois, as he was called. The Queen-mother was especially 
pleased, as her only other grandson, the young Dauphin, was 
a very sickly child ; and Monsieur, who had long complained 
of being without a son, could not contain his delight. He 
hastened to send the good news to England, and addressed 
the following note to Charles II. : — 

"From FONTAINEBLE.'iU, 

" \bjuly. 
" I should fail of the duty which I owe Your Majesty if I 
did not hasten to inform you, that your sister was this morning 
safely delivered of a fine boy. The child seems to be in 
excellent health, and will, I hope, grow up worthy of Your 
Majesty's friendship, which I ask you to bestow upon him. I 
wish you the same joy with all my heart. I send Boyer, my 
first vimtre d'hotel, to you with this." 

The same day, Hollis sent what he calls " the blessed 
newes " home by the hand of a private gentleman, Mr Roper, 
who offered himself as messenger on this auspicious occasion. 

164 



BIRTH OF A SON. 165 

*■'' Wednesday night, xdjiily. 
" VVIien I writt to you this morning, I did not think to have 
done it again so soon. God be praised that I have so good 
an occasion ! It is to let His Maiesty know, that Madame 
was this morning, between 9 and 10 of the clock, happily de- 
livered of a Sonne, a Duke of Valois. She had but an houre's 
labour, and is exceeding well, as any in her case, so newly 
brought to bed, can be. God be praised for it ! The King 
and two Queens were all the while present. All the Court 
infinitely joyed, as I doubt not but you will be in England." 

Louis XIV. was equally warm in his congratulations. He 
settled a pension of 50,000 crowns on his infant nephew, and 
wrote the following letter to Charles II., which was sent by the 
hands of Abbot Montagu, who started at once for England to 
take the news to Queen Henrietta : — - 

" We have, this morning, received the accomplishment of 
our wishes, in the birth of a son, whom it has pleased God 
to give to my brother ; and what renders this blessing the more 
complete, is the favourable state of health both of mother and 
child. With all my heart, I congratulate Your Majesty, and to 
understand my joy, you need only be pleased to consider the 
greatness of your own, for my tenderness towards my brother 
and sister is not less than even that of Your Majesty." 

As for Madame, her joy was unbounded, and the fulfilment 
of this ardent desire was some consolation for the troubles 
which she had endured of late. A short time before her son's 
birth, the Comtesse de Soissons, who was then seriously ill, 
had sent for her and revealed De Vardes' treachery. At 
first Madame could hardly believe the extent to which she 
had been deceived. In the kindness of her heart, she thought 
only of consoling her sick friend, and assured her that no 
deeper feeling than that of mutual regard could ever exist 
between herself and De Vardes. But, by degrees, her eyes 
were opened to the full extent of the man's baseness. The 
Comte de Guiche had just returned from Poland, and had 
received the King's permission to appear at Court, if he did 



l66 DE VARDES. 

not actually enter Madame's presence. He soon discovered 
how treacherously Dc Vardes had behaved, and challenged 
him to confess his guilt or fight. De Vardes, finding himself 
attacked on all sides, implored Madame to see him, and, 
although she had as yet received no visitors, in her anxiety to 
discover the truth, she granted him an interview, three weeks 
after the Due de Valois's birth. De Vardes brought her a 
letter from the Comte de Guiche, which she refused to read, 
very wisely as it proved, for the miserable wretch had already 
shown it to the King. Then he threw himself at her feet, and 
implored her pardon. But Madame would make no promises, 
and, in spite of his prayers and tears, she dismissed him in- 
dignantly from her presence. Hardly had he left the room, 
than the King appeared, and Madame told him all that had 
passed. " She saved herself from the pitfalls which surrounded 
her," observes Madame de La Fayette," by always speaking the 
truth, and it was to this perfect sincerity that she owed the 
King's friendship." Louis begged his sister-in-law to leave the 
matter to him, and promised to punish De Vardes as he deserved. 
Madame consoled herself by writing a long letter to her 
mother, giving a full account of the intrigues of which she had 
been the victim, and Charles II. hastened to assure her of his 
affectionate sympathy. His congratulations on her son's birth 
had been delayed by a sudden attack of fever, brought on by 
his imprudence in laying aside his wig and pourpoint, one hot 
day, when he had gone with the Queen to see the fleet before 
it sailed out of the Thames. But on the 14th of July (O.S.) 
he wrote : — 

" My feaver had so newly left me, and my head was so giddy, 
as I could not write to you on monday last, to tell you the 
extreame joye I have at your being safely brought to bedd 
of a sone. I assure nothing could be more welcome to me, 
knowing the satisfaction it must be to you, and all your 
concernes shall ever be next my harte. I thanke God I am 
now perfectly quitt of my feavour, though my strength is not 
fully come to me againe, for I was twise lett blood, and in 
eight dayes eate nothing but watter-grewell, and had a greate 
sweat, that lasted me almost two dayes and two nights. You 



DUTCH SHIPS. 167 

may easily beleeve, that all this will make me a little wcake ! 
I am now sending S"" George Downing into Holland, to make 
my demandes there, they have never yett given me any satis- 
faction for all the injuryes there subjects have done myne, 
only given good words and nothing else, which now will not 
be sufficient, for I will have full satisfaction, one way or other. 
We have six East India ships arrived heere this weeke, which 
bring us newes of a great losse the hollanders have receaved 
there, three of there ships, which trade to Japon, being cast 
away, whereof two richly laden, and besides this, they had sent 
24 saile upon some designe in China, who are all blocked up 
in a river in that country, so as they cannot escape. This will 
coole the courage of the East India company at Amsterdam, 
who are yett very impertinent. I am just now come from 
seeing a new ill play, and it is almost midnight, which is a 
faire howre for a sicke man to thinke of goeing to bed, and so, 
good-night. C. R." 

A week later he despatched the following letter by Boyer, 
Monsieur's niaitre (TJiotel. The man had been sent to England 
on more than one previous occasion, and was frequently cm- 
ployed by the King and his ministers, to supply them with 
PVench wines. 

" Whithall, 

"^21 July 1664. 

" The Queene shewed me yesterday your long letter, in 
which I perceive you have been very ill-used, but I am very 
glade to finde that the K. is so kinde and iust to you. I did 
not thinke it possible that some persons could have had so ill 
a part in that matter, as I see they have had by your letter. 
I shall have by this a better opinion of my devotion for the 
time to come, for I am of those bigotts, who thinke that malice 
is a much greater sinn then a poore frailety of nature I shall 
send James Hamilton to you and Monsieur^ in two or three 
dayes, to performe my compliments, I must give Boyer that 
time before him, because I beleeve my messenger is the better 
rider-post, and so might be at Paris before him. My wife 
thinkes that Boyer is very like a faire Lady of your acquaint- 
ance, he will tell you who it is. I will say no more to you at 



1 68 THE LEGATE AT FQNTAINBLEAU. 

present, because I shall write more at large to you by J. 
Hamilton, only againe I must give you joye for your sonne. 

" C. R." 

Madame recovered in time to be present at \\-\& fetes which 
were given in honour of the papal legate, Cardinal Chigi. 
This dignitary had been sent to offer the Pope's apologies to 
Louis XIV. for an insult which the servants of his Ambassador, 
the Due de Cr^qui, had received in the streets of Rome, and 
which had caused a suspension of diplomatic relations between 
France and the Vatican, during the last two years. Besides 
the papal excuses, His Eminence brought with him pictures 
by Titian and Lionardo, for the Most Christian King's accept- 
ance. He was received with great honour, and entertained 
with a series of festivities. First a ball was given, then a 
tragedy of Corneille was performed. After that, the Queen- 
mother gave a collation, and presented the Cardinal with 
twenty-four elegant baskets of fruit, tied up with coloured 
satin ribbons. One day His Eminence was present at a 
review of the King's guards, another day he went out hunting 
with His Majesty and killed three hares and a partridge, after 
which he assisted at an orchestral performance in the royal 
chapel. On the 13th of August the Court went to Vincennes. 
" The King, Queens and Madame," wrote Hollis, " are at 
Vincennes, Monsieur is here at the Palais-Royal, and the two 
children ; and so I find they mean to continue, till Madame 
and he go to Villers-Cotterets, which they do some ten days 
lience, where, she saith, she will stay a month, but I hardly 
believe it. She looks as well as ever I saw her look in my 
life, that is, as well as possible ; and is grown so fat, that my 
compliment to her yesterday was, it was well she had good wit- 
nesses, else nobody would believe she had brought forth such a 
lusty young duke, to see her in so good a plight so soon, and 
the young duke is as lusty and fine a child as ever I saw." 

But the agitation of mind which Madame had lately 
suffered, had tried her strength sorely, and '.she became so 
ill at Villers-Cotterets, that the doctors ordered her complete 
rest, and a course of asses' milk. Gui Patin observes in a 
letter that September : — " The Duchess of Orleans has been 



TARTUFFE PERFORMED. 169 

ill at Villers-Cotterets. She is frail and delicate, and belongs 
to those of whom Hippocrates speaks, as inclined to phthisis. 
The English, as a nation, are especially subject to this illness, 
which Ave call consumption." But Henrietta was too much 
accustomed to excitement, to allow herself any lasting repose. 
During the last week of their residence at Villers-Cotterets, 
Monsieur and Madame gave a brilliant fete to the Court, 
and the King, the Queen and the Prince de Conde were all 
l^esent at a second representation of Tartiiffe. In October 
the Court paid a visit to Versailles, where the King was 
anxious to see the progress of the new works, which were 
eventually to transform his father's hunting-box into the finest 
palace of luuopc. From here, Madame addressed a letter 
to her brother on the subject of certain jewels, which had 
formerly belonged to Charles I., and were now discovered in 
the possession of some French jewellers. 

"24 October 1664. 

" I have always delayed to inform you of a discovery that 

T made six months ago, of certain jewels which are said to 

have been stolen from the King, our father, and I should not 

mention it now, only that the Ambassador has lately been 

informed of it, and will no doubt have written to you. Since 

this is the case, I can no longer give you the surprise which I 

had planned, so I will tell you that the suspected parties, who 

have been arrested by my orders, confess to having once had 

the jewels in their possession, but as they have now passed 

into different hands, there will, I fear, be some difficulty in 

recovering them. But, cost what it may, I am determined 

they shall not escape me, and I hope before long to restore 

them to you. There is a very handsome hat-band of 

diamonds, also a garter, a great many rings, and a portrait 

of Prince Henry, set in very large diamonds. The Queen 

will be able to tell you whether she remembers them, for the 

King had nothing which she did not know of I have 

nothing to say in reply to your last letter. I have so often 

spoken to you on the same subject, that it would be troubling 

you to begin again. To give you some news, in return for 

what you tell me about the Queen's building (Somerset 



I/O CHARLES I.'S JEWELS. 

House), I must tell you that the King is making a grand 
building here, which will adorn the place very much, and 
which joins the fore court in the shape of a triangle. The 
best of it is, that it will cost him nothing, for he gives the 
ground to several persons of quality, who will build at their 
own expense, and will be very glad to have houses on this 
site. This is all that I have to say to you.'' 

The subject which Madame had so often mentioned to 
the King, was probably the Ambassador's troublesome con- 
duct. Knowing, as she did, Lord Hollis's susceptible tem- 
per, she wrote to him at the same time : " M. de Montagu 
has shown me the letter which you wrote to him concerning 
certain jewels, which are said to have been stolen from the 
King, my father. I heard of this some time ago, and have 
taken all necessary measures to recover them, in order that 
I may restore them to the King, my brother. The King has 
promised to make all the arrests that are necessary for my 
purpose, and if I have said nothing to you, it is because I 
iioped to give the King, my brother, an agreeable surprise. 
I send you the letter which he wrote in answer to the paper I 
sent him, of which M. de Montagu has informed you, for I am 
well content that you should know all that may pass through my 
hands, being, as it were, an anticipation of your charge. You are 
reasonable enough to know that we must obey our masters. For 
the rest, you may be satisfied that I shall only take what action 
is necessary, and shall always inform you of all that I do. Let 
me end by assuring you of my profound esteem." 

Hollis's dignity was quite satisfied by this explanation, but 
he wrote home, saying it was fortunate that he had got wind 
of the matter, for Madame would certainly have been deceived. 
The business, however, proved a more complicated one than 
he had imagined. The jewels, including a very fine sapphire, 
and a wonderful crystal ship enriched with pearls and rubies, 
besides various curious tapestries, had all belonged to 
Charles L Cardinal Mazarin had purchased some; otherii 
had been hidden away in thieves' quarters, and had been 
either sold or stolen during the Commonwealth. But they 
hud passed through so many hands, that it was impossible to 



FRENCH ALLIANCE. I/' 

prove anything with certainty, and, after a prolonged corre- 
spondence, the matter dropped. Charles 11. showed less 
eagerness to recover his property than his sister and ministers 
did. Meanwhile, the prospect of the Dutch war was engaging 
the King of England's time and thoughts. His chief object 
was to detach France from her alliance with the States. In 
1662, Louis XIV. had signed a treaty, by which he pledged 
himself to assist the Dutch in case of war, with a view to 
facilitate his own schemes of conquest in Flanders. This 
made Charles the more an.xious to discover what he had to 
expect from his brother of France, and, as usual, the chief 
part of the correspondence passed through Madame's hands. 
On the 23rd of August, Charles wrote as follows : — 

" I tould you in my two last that I would write to you 
more at large upon the subject of your two letters by the 
Conte de Gramont and James Hamilton. The truth is, I am 
sorry to see you beleeve that the faute is on our side, that the 
aliance with France is not farther advanced ; 'tis true there 
has been very unlucky accidents which have fallen out, that 
have retarded it, as the dispute with the princes of the blood 
at my Ambassadore's entry, and, since that, others of the like 
nature, but if the ambassadores on both sides have had the 
misfortune to render themselves unacceptable where they 
negociate, why must it be thought their masters' faute ? I 
assure you, if I had made that the rule, I must have long 
since concluded that France had very little inclination to 
advance in the treaty, but you shall see now that my L'' 
Hollis will goe on very roundly in the matter, so as there 
shall be no neglect on our part, and when the generall treaty 
is concluded, it will be then the proper time to enter upon 
the particular one, of that kindnesse and frindship which I 
have always desired there should be betweene the King, my 
brother, and my selfe. But, now that I am upon this matter, 
I must deale freely with you, and tell you that nothing can 
hinder this good aliance and frindship which I speake of, but 
the King, my brother's, giving the Hollanders some counten- 
ance in the dispute there is betweene us. I assure you, they 
brag very much already of his frindship, and it may be they 



172 LETTERS OF CHARLES IL 

would not be so insolent as they are, if they had not some 
such hopes. My L'' Hollis will give you a true state of that 
businesse, wherein you will finde how much the Hollanders 
are in the wrong. I meane the two companyes of the east 
and west India, against whome my complaints are, and the 
States hitherto have given them more countenance and assist- 
ance than they ought to have done. I must confesse I would 
be very glad to know what I may expect from France, in 
case the Hollanders should refuse me all sorte of reason and 
iustice, for upon that, I must take my mesures accordingly. 
I am very glad that the King, my brother, is so kinde to you, 
there can be no body so fitt to make a good correspondent 
and frindship betweene us as your selfe, I take the occasion 
of this safe messenger to tell you this, because I would not 
have this businesse passe through other hands than yours, and 
I would be very willing to have your opinion and counsell 
how I shall proceede in this matter, I do not doute but you 
will have that care of me, that I ought to expect from your 
kindnesse, and as you are an Exeter woman; and if you are 
not fully informed of all things as you complayne of in your 
letters, it is your own faute, for I have been a very exact 
correspondent, and have constantly answered all your letters, 
and I have directed my L*^ Hollis to give a full account of 
our dispute with Holland, if you will have the patiance to 
heare it. I shall sum up all, in telling you that I desire very 
much to have a strict frindship with France, but I expect to 
finde my account in it, as 'tis as reasonable that they should 
finde theres, and so I shall make an end of this long letter, by 
assuring you that I am intierly yours. C. R." 

Madame's reply is missing, but on the 19th of September 
the King resumed the subject in another letter, of which only 
a fragment remains. If France, he repeats, desires his friend- 
ship, "there is nobody so proper to make it as yourself, and 
I am sure I will put all my interest into your hands, and then 
you shall be the judge who most desires the good alliance. . . 
The feeling here against Holland is extremely strong, and I 
find myself almost the only man in my kingdom who doth 
not desire war. I do expect with impatience to hear some- 



LETTERS OF CHARLES IL 1/3 

thing from j-ou on the subject of my long letter, that I ma)- 
know what I may depend upon. I am confident the con- 
juncture will be such, before long, wherein I may be useful 
to France, and I tell you freely, I had much rather make my 
frindship where you are, and with those I know, than with 
others. But it will be impossible for this nation to be idle 
when they see their neighbours busy, and I cannot deny to 
you, that it agrees with my humour likewise. I write thus 
freely to you that you may know the truth, for I assure you, 
I consider your interest in it, and so good-night, my dearest 
sister, for 'tis late. Pray make my compliments to Monsieur, 
and though I do not trouble him often with letters, there is 
no one more truely his than I am. — C. R." 

A month later, on the 17th of October, he wrote again : — 

" I have deferred thus long to answer yours, that I might 
as well do it, to your satisfaction as my owne, for being very 
well satisfied with the King, my brother's, expressions of kind- 
nesse, I was very willing to finde that the methode proposed 
by him. would with most expedition have brought us to the 
end we both desire. I do in the first place desire you to use 
)our interest and creditt to remove all jealousyes of any 
change in me, or that I am lesse warme in my inclinations 
towards a firme frindship with france, then I have professed 
to be. Those apprehentions will in the ende be founde to be 
without grounde, and if I were naturally inclined to suspition 
I have more cause to beleeve the change may be there ; I do 
assure you, there is nothing more in my wish and indeavour, 
then that this present treaty may be finished, that we may 
the better and the sooner and with lesse noyse, thinke of a 
more strict and usefull frindship. I called for the treaty of 
1610 (which, in the confusion the late time hath cast all our 
papers, could not be presently founde), and have perused it 
my selfe and by my selfe, and finde the whole so unapplic- 
able to this conjuncture, and that in truth scarce any article 
of it hath ever been observed on either side, and that the 
whole traffique and commerce (which is quite an other thing 
from what it was then) is referred to former treatyes, the 
copyes whereof are lost, or cannot yett be founde, that much 



174 LETTERS OF CHARLES IL 

more time must inevitably be spent in makeing that treaty 
inteligible and practicall then will serve to finish this, which, 
in my opinion haveing been so lately, can take up very little 
time before it be againe concluded, and if my L'* Hollis (who 
upon my creditt is very well affected to this worke in hande, 
and hartily desires a very fast frindship betweene us, though 
in matters relating to himselfe, he may possibly be formal 
and punctual! enough) hath made any unseasonable addition 
to what he proposed at first, the King may reject it, what I 
desire being no more than that the Duch may not enjoy any 
priviledges in France, which shall be denyed to my subjects, 
which is a preference I am sure the King will never give to 
them. In a word, it is in the King, my brother's, power to 
have what kinde of correspondence, or what kinde of frind- 
ship he will with me, and if I do understand his or my owne 
interest and designes, a very fast frindship is good and neces- 
sary for us both, and it cannot but be a manifestation to him 
of the sincerity of my intentions, that I ingage you to under- 
take for it, which sure I would not do, if they were otherwise. 
I have written my harte to you, which I will not undertake 
to do so in french, but you may have this translated, and so, 
my dearest sister, I am yours. C. 

" Since the writing of this, I have receaved yours of the 2ist, 
with a copy of the treaty of i6io, the same I mention to have 
read heere, with the proc6s-verbal of the ceremonyes passed at 
my L'' Gorings swering this, and all other treatyes then sub- 
sisting between France and us, which, as I have sayde, can- 
not come home to the present case now before us. This 
makes me still remaine in the conclusion, that we must lay 
for a foundation the project my L'' Hollis hath now given in, 
and add to it other private articles of mutuall defence and 
succour, as may be easily agreed upon betweene us, and this 
will not be a worke of much time, if our mindes be according 
to our professions, and so I am yours. C. R. 

" Pray lett le Nostre goe on with the modell, and only tell 
him this adition, that I can bring water to the top of the hill, so 
that he may add much to the beauty of the desente by a 
cascade of watter. C. R." 



THE COMTE DE GRAMONT. 175 

Charles's next letter was sent by the hand of the Comte de 
Gramont, who was on his way to his own country, with his 
fair English wife and their young child. Two months before, 
Comminges had written to Lionne : " M'''"<= la Comtesse de 
Gramont gave birth yesterday to a son, as handsome as his 
mother and as gay as his father. All the Court rejoices with 
them, but I think the prospect of returning to France has 
done more to wipe out the wrinkles from the Count's brow, 
and bring back the lilies and roses to his cheeks." 

Charles speaks warmly of both the Count and Countess, 
in his two following letters : — 

" Whithall, 
"23 Oct 1664. 

" I hope you will be well satisfied with the last letter I 

writt to you, for in it I sayd nothing but what came from my 

harte, and as I then tould you, I do now againe, that if I did 

not intend what I write, I would not adresse it to you. The 

Comte de Gramont will give you this, and he will tell you 

how kind I am to you. I pray be kinde to him, and to his 

wife, for my sake, and if at any time there be an occasion to 

send hether one of his talent, there is nobody will be more 

wellcome to me than him. I will say no more to you now, 

because this letter will be long upon the way, only againe 

recommend them bothe to your protection, and desire you to 

beleeve that I am intierly Yours. C. R." 

"Whithall, 

"24 Oct. 1664. 

"I writt to you yesterday, by the Comte de Gramont, but 
T beleeve this letter will come sooner to your handes, for he 
goes by the way of Diepe with his wife and family, and now 
that I have named her, I cannot choose but againe desire you 
to be kindc to her, for besides the meritt her family has, on 
both sides, she is as good a creature as ever lived. I beleeve 
she will passe for a handsome woman in France, though she has 
not yett, since her lying in, recovered that good shape she had 
before, and I am affraide never will. You will heare by this 
post, of the demel6 that was betweene my L*^ S' Albans and 
M. de Chapel (Madame de Fiennes's husband), which is now 



176 NEW YORK TAKEN. 

made up. All I shall say of it, is that de Chapel was as much 
in the wrong as a man could be to his superior officer. Poor 
Oneale (the husband of Lady Stanhope) died this afternoon 
of an ulser in his gutts. He was as honest a man as ever 
lived. I am sure I have lost a very good servant by it. I 
have nothing to say more to you, upon our publique businesse, 
till I have an answer from you, of my last letter by the post, 
only that I expect with impatiency to know your mindes there, 
and then you shall finde me as forward to a strict frindship 
with the King, my brother, as you can wish. You will have 
heard of our takeing of New Amsterdame, which lies just by 
New England. 'Tis a place of great importance to trade, and a 
very good towne. It did belong to England hecretofore, but the 
Duch by degrees drove our people out of it, and built a very good 
towne, but we have gott the better of it, and 'tis now called New 
Yorke. He that took it, and is now there, is Nicols, my brother's 
servant, who you know very well. I am yours. C. R." 

On the 4th of November, Henrietta wrote from Paris : — 

" I have shewn your last letter to the King, who has 
ordered me to tell you in answer to what you write touching 
the Dutch, that if you will agree to treat his subjects in 
England as the English, he consents that the English in 
France should be treated as French, excepting the fifty sons." 
This was a tonnage exacted from all foreign ships leaving 
French ports, according to the treaty made between PVance 
and Holland in 1662. 

" I am not clever enough to know what this means, but 
these are the King's own words which I repeat to you. If 
this is what you want, reply as soon as you can, for if you 
do not quickly end all this, you will not gain time, as you 
both appear to wish, and this will drag on to infinite lengths ! 
It is so late, and I am so sleepy that I will add nothing more 
but that I am your very humble servant.'' 

Madame's next letter speaks of her sister-in-law, Queen 
Marie Th^r^se's dangerous illness, which had thrown the 
Court into a great state of alarm. An attack of fever brought 
on a premature confinement, and for some weeks the Queen's 
life was in imminent danger. There were prayers in all the 



ILLNESS OF THE QUEEN-MOTHER. 177 

Paris churches. The Queen-mother, who was herself in a 
very precarious condition, went in solemn state to the Church 
of Les Feuillants to pray for her daughter-in-law's recovery, 
and Louis XIV.'s distress almost equalled that of his brother 
of England, on a similar occasion. Mademoiselle describes 
the crowds which thronged the sick chamber, and takes care 
to record the vexation of the Queen, on seeing Madame with 
her hair elegantly dressed and decked out in yellow ribands, 
a mark, in her eyes, of great disrespect and want of feeling, 
Marie Ther^se eventually recovered, but the baby, a little girl 
who was christened Marie Anne, and had Madame for her 
godmother, died in December. On the 12th of November, 
Henrietta wrote : — 

" I sent you word by the last post of the Queen's illness, 
which has much increased since then, owing to the frightful 
pains in her limbs, which keep the fever high. The King 
seems much distressed, although we are assured there is no 
danger at present, either for her or her child. I think you 
had better send some one to inquire after her, for this is not 
a little illness which will be over to-day or to-morrow. I have 
no leisure to say more. I will write more fully by Mr Sidnei, 
who leaves to-morrow, and will only tell you now that I am 
your humble servant." 

On the 28th she wrote to Charles by the Marquis de 
Ruvigny, brother-in-law to Lord Southampton, who was sent 
to England by Louis XIV., on a special mission to report on 
the state of feeling towards France, and supply information 
on points in which Comminges had failed to satisfy the King's 
mind. " I could not let Ruvigny start without this letter, to 
assure you again, what he will also tell you, how much your 
friendship is wished for here, and how necessary it is to 
France. Profit by this, in God's name, and lose no time in 
obtaining a promise from the King not to help the Dutch. 
You understand that he cannot bind himself publicly, owing 
to his engagements with them, although we all know these 
are only worth what he chooses to make them. For, as with 
everything else in this world, it is necessary to keep up a good 

M 



178 MISSIONS TO PARIS. 

appearance. You must, therefore, content yourself with a 
private agreement, which is hkely in fact to be more lasting, 
and I promise to see that this is clone in good faith, for I fear 
the contrary so much, in anything that I am mixed up with, 
that I will have nothing to do with it, unless 1 see that this is 
the case. Tell Ruvigny, I beg, how well I have spoken of 
him to you, for he is the most honest of men. I do not think 
you need me to tell you this, nor yet that I am your very 
humble servant." 

Charles, on his part, now sent his old friend Charles 
Berkeley, Lord Fitzhardinge, on a confidential mission to 
Paris, and was well pleased with the reception which the 
King gave him, as we see from the following letter : — 

" Whithall, 
"21 Nov. Monday^ 1664. 

" The Parlament being to meet on thursday next, gives me 
so much businesse, to put all thinges in a good way at there 
first comming together, as I have only time to tell you that C. 
l^erkeley arrived heere late last night, so as yett I have not 
had full time to receave an account of the successe of his 
negotiation. I shall only tell you now the great satisfaction 
I receave, in the obligeing reception he had from the King, my 
brother, which I am sure I will returne with all imaginable 
kindnesses, and I hope there will not be many steps more 
before the intier frindship be made betweene us. Pray tell 
Monsieur I am as sensible of his frindship and kindnesse as I 
ought to be, but that I have not now time to tell it him in 
writting till the next post. For yourselfe, I am to much 
obliged to you to say anything of it in so short a letter, nor 
indeed can I ever diserve it from you. You have my hart, 
and I cannot give you more. C. R." 

Madame replied by the hands of another gentleman of the 
Court, who was about to start for London, and had begged 
the favour of a line from her pen. 

" This gentleman asks me to recommend him to you, and 
is a very worthy person. He goes on the same errand as 
Ruvigny, and I see that in this affair you are doing what is 



DUTCH WAR. 179 

desired here, as indeed it is best, since it is always well to 
oblige people in small matters. I am very sorry to have 
nothing more to say, by such a safe channel, when, I have no 
doubt, I shall long to tell you a hundred things another time 
when the insecurity will make it impossible. Here people 
say tlie Dutch will never dare sail this winter, and all they 
want to do is to gain time, in hopes that all the supplies on 
board your ships will be exhausted, and the great expense of 
fitting them out again will force you to make peace. I see 
by your last letter that Fitzhardinge has been very expeditious, 
and that you have not yet had time to speak with him. I 
hope when you have you will do what I ask in the letter I 
sent by him, which is assuredly the best way of coming to a 
good understanding with the King. You see how little great 
treaties are kept, but this kind of thing, on the contrary, must 
be inviolable as a compact made between two friends and 
brothers." 

Monsieur, who at this time declared himself warmly in 
favour of England, had lately written to congratulate his 
brother-in-law on the advantage gained by his sailors over the 
Dutch on the coast of Guinea. Madame now wrote on hear- 
ing a similar report : — 

"Paris, 
'''' cc 10 Ddcembrc. 

" It is said here that your fleet has taken forty Dutch ships, 

but, as you do not mention it, I fear it may not be true. I 

gave your letter to the King, who showed it to me. I also 

gave him the messages that you sent. He receives all your 

advances so well that I doubt not but he will respond to them 

in course of time. The Queen is much better, but as for the 

little Madame, she has suffered from such violent convulsions 

during the last ten days that her death is hourly expected, so 

the congratulations you are going to send on her birth will, I 

fear, have to be changed into condolences for her death which 

is all that your humble servant has to say for the present." 



CHAPTER X I \'^ 
1664 — 1665 

Arrest of De Vardes — Madame's last Interview with the Comte de Guiche^ — ■ 
Verdict of contemporary writers on her Character — Madame de La Fayette's 
Vie de Madame Heniiette — Madame a Patron of Art and Letters— Her 
Friendship with Mohere, Racine, La Fontaine, Bussy, and others. 

While Madame was conducting these important negotiations 
between the two countries,and surprising experienced diplomats 
by her tact and abiHty, she had a still more difficult task to do, 
in setting herself free from the tangled web which falsehood 
and intrigue had wound about her. De Vardes was still at 
large, in spite of all the King's promises, and, as yet, even 
Madame had not fathomed the abyss of his iniquities. An 
unexpected incident suddenly revealed them to her. Since 
his return to Court that summer, the Comte de Guiche had 
vainly sought an opportunity of meeting the Princess. 
Madame refused either to see him, or to read the despairing 
letters which he addressed to her. In vain he implored the 
Comtesse de Gramont to intercede for him, and paid her daily 
visits that winter, in the hope of meeting Madame at her house. 
This lady had, on her arrival from England, been received in 
the most cordial manner by Henrietta, who welcomed the fair 
Englishwoman as her brother had desired, and honoured her 
with gracious marks of her friendship. But all Madame de 
Gramont could obtain, on behalf of the Comte de Guiche, was 
a message from Henrietta, to the effect that she recognised 
his innocence of the false charges which had been brought 
against him, and was grateful for the honourable way in which 
he had behaved. A strange chance gave him the opportunity 
which he had so long sought in vain. One evening Monsieur 
and Madame were j)resent at a masked ball given by the 

180 



TREACHERY OF DE VARDES. iSl 

Duchess de la Vieuville. They came without attendants, in a 
hired coach, the better to conceal their identity. As they 
entered the house, they fell in with another party of masked 
guests. Monsieur gallantly gave his hand to one of the ladies, 
Madame accepted the arm of an unknown cavalier. Suddenly 
she caught sight of the hand that was offered her, and recog- 
nised the maimed fingers of the Comte de Guiche, whose 
hand had been partly shot off in battle. At the same time, 
the familiar perfume of Madame's hair made the Count aware 
that she was his partner. They mounted the staircase in 
silence, and for some moments neither of them was able to 
speak a word. But the Count soon gathered courage, and in 
a few moments told Madame all. Now, for the first time, she 
realised the blackness of De Vardes's treachery, and the 
scandalous way in which she had been duped. She, on her 
part, explained all that had passed, and thanked the Count 
for his loyalty and obedience to her wishes. But Monsieur 
approached, and, fearful of exciting suspicion, the Count left 
the ball-room. Madame turned hastily to join her husband, 
and, catching her feet in her gown, she fell down a flight of 
steps. De Guiche, who was lingering on the staircase, caught 
her in his arms, and was just in time to save her from a 
dangerous fall. From that moment Madame resolved that 
De Vardes should no longer go unpunished. The effrontery 
with which he spoke of her in public soon gave her the excuse 
she needed. She appealed indignantly to the King for 
redress, and wrote a passionate letter to her brother, implor- 
ing his powerful help. 

" Paris, 
" cc ly Ddcenibre. 

" I have begged the ambassador to send you this courier, 
that he may inform you truly of the affair which has happened 
about Vardes, but having written it to the Queen, my mother, 
you will allow me to refer you to her letter, for the whole 
story. Here I will only say that the thing is so serious, I feel 
that it will influence all the rest of my life. If I cannot obtain 
my object, it will be a disgrace to feel that a private individual 
has been able to insult me with impunity, and if I do, it will be 
a warning to all the world in future, how they dare to attack 



1 82 ARREST OF DE VARDES. 

me. I know that you were angry that he was not punished 
for the first affair, which makes me ask you this time to write 
a letter to the King, saying that, although you feel sure he will 
give me every possible satisfaction, and finish as well as he has 
begun — for it will never do to let him see that we are dis- 
pleased with him — yet, out of love for me, you cannot help 
asking him to do so (if you do not think this expression too 
strong), and that if it had not been one of his own servants who 
is in fault, you would not have asked him for justice, but 
would have done it yourself But you will judge better than 
I can what to say, for, as I have already told you, it is a business 
which may have terrible consequences if this man is not exiled 
All France is interested in the result, so I am obliged to stand 
up for my honour, and leave you to judge what might happen ! 
I hope that the consideration in which you are held here may 
settle all this. It will not be the first debt that I shall have 
owed you, nor the one for which I shall be the least grateful, 
since it will enable me to obtain justice in future. I end by 
assuring you that I am your most humble servant." 

Charles hastened to assure his sister that she might rely 
on his assistance, and although he makes no further allusion 
to the subject of her letter, the result proved that he was as 
good as his. word. A fortnight later, Lord Hollis, writing 
home, informs his master that " the Marquis dc Vardcs has 
been ordered to surrender himself to the Bastille, to expiate 
some unbecoming words of which it is said that Madame had 
complained to His Majesty.'' But since De Vardes's friends 
went to see him at the Bastille, and boasted that all Madame's 
influence would never obtain his banishment, the King soon 
afterwards exiled him to the little town of Aigues-Mortes, and 
forbade him to return to Court. A still more decisive 
triumph, however, was in store for Madame. In spite of the 
generous treatment which the Comtesse de Soissons had 
received at her hands, this intriguing lady could not forgive 
Madame for having robbed her of her lover. In her jealous 
anger, she vowed vengeance, and by way of retaliation, told the 
King that the Comte de Guiche had advised Madame to take 
possession of Dunkirk in her brother's name, and that, in order 



A FAREWELL. 1 83 

to effect this object he had placed the regiment of guards which 
he commanded at her disposal. 

Fortunately Louis asked Madame if this were true, and 
Henrietta easily proved the story to be an impudent calumny 
of Madame de Soissons. This time the King's anger was 
thoroughly roused, and determined, once for all, to put art end 
to these perpetual intrigues, he banished the Comte and 
Comtesse de Soissons from Court, and imprisoned De Vardes 
in the citadel of Montpelier. Here this dangerous character 
remained for two years, and nineteen more passed away before 
he was allowed to show his face at Court again. 

Thus Madame's honour was at last fully vindicated and 
her enemies met with their deserts. But one more chapter of 
the tale remains to be told. True to her resolve, Henrietta 
refused to .see the Comte de Guiche again. But she sent him 
word through his father, the Mar^chal de Gramont, of the 
mischievous reports which had reached the King's ears, and 
advised him to be perfectly frank and open with his master. 
The old Mardchal now took alarm, and although his son was 
ill of a fever, he insisted on his leaving Court at once. 
But the Count would not go without a last sight of Madame, 
and in spite of his weak state of health, he borrowed the liv- 
eries of one of La Valliere's servants and stood in this disguise 
in the court of the Palais-Royal, to see Madame pass by in 
her chair, on her way to the Louvre. He even ventured to 
draw near and speak to her, but when he had to take leave of 
her, his strength failed, and he fainted away. Madame's chair 
passed on, and they never met again. So the pitiful little 
romance ended. 

The Comte de Guiche went to Holland, where he covered 
himself with laurels in the coming campaign. He fought des- 
perately in a naval battle with the English, and when the 
Dutch man-of-war on which he served was blown up, only 
saved himself by plunging into the sea and swimming to shore. 
Afterwards, he returned to France, where he lived happily 
with the wife whom he had so long neglected, and wrote letters 
full of fine sentiments and eloquent phrases to the virtuous 
Madame de Bri.s.sac. In 1672, he became the hero of the 
famous Passage du Rhin. That day he dashed into the river 



184 THE COMTE DE GUICHE. 

at the head of his troop, of cavalry, swam the stream and 
carried the enemy's post under the King's eyes, a foolhardy 
exploit enough, as Madame de Sevign6 remarks. But it suc- 
ceeded, and De Guiche's name was on every lip. A year 
afterwards he died at Kreuznach, in the midst of another 
campaign, of a sudden illness brought on, it is said, by over- 
fatigue and grief at the loss of the King's favour. Madame de 
Sevign6 has described, in her inimitable way, the painful 
sensation that was caused by his death, and the pathetic 
interview, in which the Abb6 Bourdaloue broke the news to 
his old father. 

As for Madame, if the manner of the Count's farewell cost 
her a pang, she did not see the close of the little drama with- 
out a sense of relief. It had given her more pain than pleasure 
and had left her a sadder and a wiser woman. Madame de 
La Fayette, who heard every detail from her own lips, did not 
think that she ever entertained any very deep feeling for this 
daring knight, and was doubtful if his love for her was not 
rather a romantic devotion than iiiie gratide passion. 

The Count's amours, contemporary writers agree, were of 
a distinctly Platonic nature. And Madame de Motteville 
remarks, that if his passion for Madame brought him great 
sorrows, his vanity probably deprived them of much of their 
bitterness. He had at least the satisfaction of being her 
acknowledged adorer, and of hearing his name linked with 
hers in the common talk of the Court. The same lady, who 
was one of Madame's severest critics, says decidedly that 
there was nothing criminal in this liaison, and that even the 
Queen-mother, while she blamed her daughter-in-law's thought- 
lessness, never suspected her of a worse fault. The episode 
of Madame's so-called loves with the Comte de Guiche, sup- 
plied scandal-mongers with a fruitful theme. liut their 
ribaldry met with no support from respectable writers. Even 
Manicamp, who wrote the famous libel, Les Ainoitrs du Palais- 
Royal, which made so much noise at the time, does not accuse 
Madame or her lover of anything worse than a foolish flirta- 
tion,, carried on under very romantic circumstances, in the 
most high-flown language. Bishop Burnet, it is true, does his 
best to blast Henrietta's character, in what Swift has called 



madaime's character. 185 

those " pretty, jumping periods" of his, but the mere fact that 
this Princess was a Catholic and tried to win her brother over 
to her own faith, was enough to make him paint her in the 
blackest of colours. And anyone who examines the memoirs 
and letters of the Court, will see at a glance that his insinua- 
tions are groundless. The worst that her enemies can .say of 
Henrietta is that she did not object to being adored. The 
Marquis de La Fare, who was never honoured with Madame's 
confidence, and was intimate with her bitterest enemy, the 
Comtesse de Soissons, gives it as his opinion that she was 
vcrttieuse mats un pen coquette. And this verdict is confirmed 
by all the best authorities, amongst others, by her successor, 
the blunt and outspoken princess, who became Monsieur's 
second wife. In her Monoirs, this honest but eccentric 
lady repeatedly records her conviction that the world 
had been unjust to Madame. " I think," she writes in one 
place, " that Madame had more misfortunes than faults. She 
had to do with wicked people, about whose conduct I could 
tell a great deal if I chose. Madame was very young, beauti- 
ful, agreeable, full of grace and charm. From the time of her 
marriage, she was surrounded by the greatest coquettes and 
most intriguing women in the world, who were the mistresses 
of her enemies. I think people have been very unjust to her." 
As Henrietta herself, when she first married, told Madame 
de La Fayette, of all the ladies about her, there was not one 
whom she could trust. Certainly the position was full of 
danger for a Princess of her youth and character, and if she 
did not fall into worse difficulties, it was only due to her natural 
goodness of heart. But from this time, a marked change was 
noticed in her. She was only twenty now, but the lessons of 
the last few years had not been wasted on her. Madame de 
Motteville remarks, that once De Vardes, the author of all 
these intrigues, had been finally banished, Madame seemed to 
wish to alter her behaviour. " She lived on better terms with 
the Queen, her mother-in-law, and took her part in the neces- 
sary diversions of the Court, with no wish but to make herself 
pleasant to all. As she had much genius and penetration, and 
could talk well on every subject, those who had the honour of 
knowing her best, noticed that she was beginning to recognise, 



1 86 MADAME DE LA FAYETTE'S VIE. 

by her own experience, how little the pleasures she had once 
sought so eagerly, were capable of satisfying the human heart, 
but she hardly grasped that truth in all its fulness ; as yet she 
only saw it dimly and from afar." 

It was during the following summer, a few months only 
after the Comte de Quiche's final departure, that Madame, 
being confined to her rooms by illness, and unable to take part 
in the usual gaieties of the Court, told Madame de La Fayette 
the story of his love. The details were then fresh in her 
mind, and as her friend expressed surprise at some of the 
adventures which had befallen her, Madame suddenly ex- 
claimed : — " Do you not think this would make a very pretty 
story? You write stories so well, do please write this one, 
and I will tell you all the details." Madame de La Fayette 
entered warmly into Henrietta's idea, and promised to do her 
best. Together they sketched out the plan of the story, and 
Henrietta took a child-like pleasure in composing a novel of 
her own " iin roman a elle." But she recovered her health and 
the fancy passed. It was only four years later, after the 
birth of her second daughter. Mademoiselle de Valois, that the 
idea came back to her mind. This was just after her mother's 
death. Monsieur had accompanied the Court to Chambord, 
and Madame de La Fayette remained almost alone with Hen- 
rietta at Saint-Cloud. Together they set to work on the book. 
Madame de La Fayette wrote down each morning what 
Henrietta had told her the evening before, and then showed 
her what she had written. The task Avas by no means an 
easy one, and Madame de La Fayette, more careful of Hen- 
rietta's reputation than this Princess herself, often found it 
difficult to reconcile truth with propriety. But Madame was 
delighted. The romantic bent of her nature was gratified. 
She liked to feel herself the heroine of the tale, and took keen 
interest in its progress, dictating some pages, correcting others, 
and laughing merrily over the passages which gave her friend 
the most trouble. One day, when Madame de La Fayette 
was summoned to Paris, she herself took up the pen, and 
wrote several pages of the narrative. But the King came 
back, and Madame left Saint-Cloud to join her husband at 
I'aris. The story was once more thrown aside, and when 



]\rADAME AT SAINT-CLOUD. 1 8/ 

Madame clc La Fayette took it up again, a year later, Hen- 
rietta was dead and her broken-hearted friend was left alone 
to pen the few sad pages which tell the tale of her tragic end. 

The details of Court intrigues and gallantries which fill 
Madame de La Fayette's book are of little interest now. 
What is really valuable is the portrait which she gives us of 
Madame herself We see her in the light and grace of her 
youth, presiding at those Courty^/^j which were never complete 
.without her, rewarding the victor in the ring with one of the 
smiles that turned the heads of the wisest and the best, or else 
entertaining a brilliant company in the lighted saloons of the 
Palais-Royal, while foolish Monsieur struts up and down 
exulting over the number of his guests, all unconscious that 
they have come for Madame's sake. We see her foremost in 
dance and song, leading the masque under the forest trees of 
Fontainebleau, or gliding over the waters on summer nights to 
the sound of Lulli's violins. And we see her, too, in the more 
intimate moments of her life, at her beautiful home of Saint- 
Cloud, enjoying the society of one or two chosen friends, with 
that freedom and absence of constraint in which she delighted. 
There, among the green lawns and sunny terraces where her 
memory still lives, she loved to linger with her ladies, while 
Monsieur went off on his daily excursions to Paris. There 
she consoled herself for his ill-temper and jealousy by reading 
her favourite authors aloud with some companion who shared 
her tastes. Or else, laying her fair head on Madame de La 
Fayette's knee, she would pour out the fears and sorrows that 
vexed her, and speak of her unhappiness, with that air of 
sweetness which made her even more charming in her sadder 
moments. There, too, on summer evenings she loved to 
wander, arm-in-arm with one or other of her friends, listening 
to the music of the waterfalls and enjoying the fragrant scent 
of the flowers. And there, long after her death, it was said 
that she might be seen at midnight sitting, robed in white, at 
the foot of her favourite cascade. 

Many were the distinguished visitors who came to see her 
in this lovely spot. The serious side of her nature attracted 
the ablest scholars and deepest thinkers of the Court. The 
two greatest soldiers of the day, Conde and Turenne, were 



l88 MADAM E'S FRIENDS. 

both numbered among her friends. Turenne especially, whose 
rough exterior hid so true and loyal a soul, was deeply 
attached to Madame. His natural shyness and modesty kept 
him away from Court, and made him shrink from any kind of 
public recognition, but he was intimate with the Arnauld 
family, with the men of Port-Royal, and the members of 
Madame de Sevign6's circle. Another veteran whom Madame 
honoured with her friendship, and whose religious turn of 
mind had drawn him in the same direction, was the good old 
Marechal de Bellefonds. But there was hardly a man of note 
in France, at this period, who was not brought into some 
connection with Madame. La Rochefoucauld and Madame 
de Sevigne became intimate with her, through Madame de 
La Fayette. Another accomplished scholar, M. de Tr^ville, 
was one of her most devoted friends. This brilliant gentleman 
held the honourable post of Captain of the Musketeers in 
Monsieur's household, and had the reputation of being at once 
the best Greek scholar and the wittiest man at Court. To talk 
like Trdville, to be as learned as Tr<6ville, was the highest 
compliment you could pay a man. Bossuet, Arnauld and 
Nicole were among his closest friends. He helped Sacy with 
his translation of the New Testament, and was one of the 
editors of Pascal's Pensies. The death of Madame snapped 
the last link which bound him to the Court. That day he 
turned his back upon the world, and joined his friends at 
Port-Royal. 

This famous society was, in those days, the centre of 
intellectual life in France. With the venerable Arnauld 
d'Andilly for its patriarch, and his children and brother and 
sister for its leading members, Port-Royal gathered together 
all the foremost scholars and deepest thinkers of the day. A 
succession of important publications issued from it walls, and 
to be stamped with the mark of Port-Royal was of itself a 
passport to fame. The piety and learning of the recluses 
attracted visitors from all parts. Madame de LongueviUe 
built herself a house at Port-Royal des Champs. Made- 
moiselle, Madame de Sevign6, Madame de La Fayette, all 
visited the convent, and came away deeply imprcs.scd. " This 
I'ort-Royal is a Thebiiid ! " exclaims Madame clc Scvign6 ! 



rORT-ROYAL. 1 89 

" a paradise, where all that remains of Christian piety in the 
world has found a refuge." Madame de Sable made herself 
a home within the precincts of Port-Royal de Paris and held 
salons there, which recalled the Saturdays of the hotel 
Rambouillet. Madame de Sevigne and Madame de La 
Fayette, herself a member of the old society and described b}^ 
Scarron as toiite liimineiise, toute pircieuse^ Mademoiselle de 
Scudery, the author of Cyrus and Clelie, Madame de Suze, 
and Madame de Br^gis came there to meet Arnauld and 
Pomponne, St. Cyran and Treville, Sacy and Nicole. Madame 
herself was often present at these 7'Lhinions, and both she and 
Monsieur, who had little enough in common w^ith the thinkers 
of Port- Royal, were on intimate terms with Madame de Sable. 
Monsieur, indeed, at one time kept up a correspondence with 
this cultivated lady, and many of his notes to her are pre- 
served in the Biblioth^que Nationale. Among them we find 
the following note which was addressed by Madame herself to 
Madame de La Fayette, begging her to excuse her absence 
from one of those rt'u?iio)is as she has a bad cold, and is well 
aware of Madame de Sable's fear of infection. 

Tuesday Morning, 1666. 
" My cold has become so much worse since yesterday, that 
I dare not go to Madame La Marquise de Sable's house to- 
day, for, even if she were not afraid of me, the sight of me 
would certainly make her ill, and in order to avoid both these 
inconveniences, I think it wiser to put off my visit till Thurs- 
day. Do not think that I fail to keep my appointment out 
of laziness. I am really afraid I should alarm her ! Find 
this out for me, and send me a line to I'Abbaye au Bois, 
where I am going to see Mademoiselle d'Elbceuf " 

Gondrin, the excellent Archbishop of Sens, whose learn- 
ing and virtues had earned for him the name of Jansenist, 
was another friend whom Madame met in these circles, and 
who lent her his help and advice in some of the most difficult 
moments of her life. A very different personage, Madame 
de Sevigne's troublesome cousin, Bussy, Comte de Rabutin, 
found his way into this coterie, by right of his wit, if not of 



190 liUSSY DE RAIJUTIN. 

his virtue. This famous bel-esprit, who enjoyed the reputa- 
tion of having the most dangerous tongue in France, knew 
how to make himself agreeable to Madame, and when he had 
forfeited the King's favour, and offended everyone at Court 
by the impudence of his sarcasms, he implored her to inter- 
cede for him. Henrietta consented with her usual good- 
nature, and while mass was being celebrated in the royal 
chapel on the following morning, she approached the King, 
and begged him to grant Bussy an audience, assuring him 
that he was a very worthy man, and had been unjustly calum- 
niated. Louis replied that this might be very true, but that 
he made jests of every one, adding with a smile, that Madame 
herself would be fortunate if she escaped. Here mass ended, 
and with it the conversation. Afterwards Bussy found out, 
from Louvois, that he had been accused to the King of speak- 
ing ill of Madame. " Why, she is the best of my friends ! " 
he replied, " if I may venture to speak in such a manner of so 
exalted a lady." Madame herself, he adds, only laughed at 
the charge, and used her influence on his behalf to such good 
purpose, that Bussy was pardoned, and allowed to retain his 
post at Court, on promise of better behaviour in future. His 
gratitude was unbounded. " I was as much obliged to 
Madame," he writes in his Memoirs, " as if she had saved my 
life, and although I knew she had a natural disposition to do 
good to everyone, yet the honour she did me, and the manner 
in which she treated me, made me think that she worked with 
more zeal for me than for others. To tell the truth, she saw 
that I was much attracted to her, and greatly admired her 
good qualities, for she was, both in mind and person, the most 
charming princess that ever lived." Unfortunately, Bussy 
soon fell into disgrace again, owing to the treachery of his 
mistress, who published a scurrilous pamphlet, L'Histoire 
Ainouraisc des Gmcles, which he had only destined for private 
circulation. In April 1665, he was sent to the Bastille, and, 
after a twelvemonth's imprisonment, was banished to his 
estates in Burgundy, where he pined away, during his long 
years of exile, and solaced himself by corresponding with the 
wiser and more fortunate friends whom he had left at Court. 
]3ut he never forgot Madame's kindness, and lamented her 



MOLIERE. I9T 

death, in common with all of those who had any love for 
letters, or any admh-ation for genius. 

Henriette's taste for the drama, her keen interest in litera- 
ture, and her generous appreciation of artistic excellence in 
every form, naturally attracted men of distinction to her side. 
" Need I remind you," exclaimed Bossuet, in a fine passage of 
his Oraison, "of that excellent judgment in art and letters, 
which made all those who succeeded in pleasing Madame, 
feel satisfied that they had attained perfection ? " There was 
one group of men of letters whom she honoured in an especial 
manner with her patronage. This was the little band of poets 
who spent their evenings together in a garret of the Faubourg 
Saint Germain, and by day sought the Muses in the forest 
shades of Fontainebleau, or along the wooded banks of the 
Seine. As one of their number, Racine, wrote to his friend, 
La Fontaine, when he recalled their happy rambles together 
in the beautiful environs of Paris, — 

"Tantot Fontainebleau les volt {les Mnscs). 
Le long de ses belles cascades, 
TantGt Vinccnncs les regoit, 
A I'ombre de ses palissades ! 

Elles sent souvent sur les eaux 
Ou de la Marne, ou de la Seine, 
Elles dtaient toujours k Vaux, 
Et ne I'ont pas quittd sans peine." 

Each of these distinguished men found a kind friend and 
discriminating patron in Madame. Moli^re was honoured 
with many marks of her favour. On the 28th of February 
1664, she stood sponsor to his first-born child, a boy, named 
Louis after the King, who was his godfather. And when the 
first performance of Tartuffe had roused a storm, and angry 
priests were saying aloud that Moli^re deserved to be burnt 
at the stake, Madame took the author under her protection, 
and caused the condemned play to be repeated before the 
King at her own house at Villers-Cotterets. Moli^re brought 
her his works to read, and listened with interest to her criti- 
cisms, if he did not always follow them. Such intelligent 
sympathy was too rare not to be valued by the poet. He has 



192 LE MISANTHROPE. 

told us himself, how tired he was of the thankless task of see- 
ing his plays performed before fools, and what strange pleas- 
ure it gave him to meet with a single understanding soul. 
Madame appreciated the finer side of his nature, the deep 
undercurrent of seriousness which ran through all his laughter, 
and shared to the full his hatred of false appearances and 
artificiality. This sympathy led her to understand his Miscw- 
thrope, that great work, written in a bitter and desponding 
moment of his life, in which he pours out all the weariness 
and discontent of his soul, his wail over the vanity of effort 
and the folly of human nature. The play was not a success 
at the time, and failed to attain the popularity of Moli^re's 
other works. But Madame recognised its truth and power 
from the first. She listened attentively when the poet read 
her his new play, and we can imagine the quick response of 
her heart, when he reached the famous passage where Alceste 
contrasts \k\.& fadeurs and conceits of fashionable love verses 
with the simple charm of the old song : — 

"Si le roi medonnait 

Paris sa grande ville, 
Et qu'il me fallut quitter 

L'amour de ma mie, 
Je dirais au roi Henri, 

Reprenez votre Paris, 
J'aime mieux ma mie, 6 gu^, 

J'aime mieux ma mie." 

*' Voild ce que peut dire un ca'ur vrainient epris." 

But there was one line of the play to which she took excep- 
tion : — " Un grand flandri)i, qui cracJie dans un puits, pour 
faire des ronds." This she begged Moliere to alter. But the 
poet refused, with characteristic independence, unwilling to 
alter his own conception of his " original " in the slightest 
degree, and the passage remained. None the less, he retained 
the deepest sense of Madame's kindness on this occasion, and 
has left a lasting proof of his gratitude in the dedicatory 
epistle of his Ilcoie des Feinnies, one of the most charming and 
characteristic specimens of the kind, that has ever been 
written. 



DEDICATION OF VECOLE DES FEMMES. 1 93 

" 71? Madame. 

" Madame, — I am the most embarrassed man in the world 
when I have to dedicate a book, and I am so little accustomed 
to the style which is held proper for the epistle dedicatory, 
that I do not know how to begin. Any other author would 
be able to say a hundred fine things to Your Royal Highness 
on the title of my play — L Ecole des Femmes — and the offering 
which he would ask leave to lay at your feet. But, Madame, 
it is here that I must confess my weakness. I do not under- 
stand the art of discovering affinities between such remote 
objects, whatever good examples my comrades may have 
given me. I do not see what your Royal Highness has to do 
with the comedy which I offer her. No doubt, it is easy 
enough to praise you. Here, Madame, the material is all too 
abundant. Whichever way we look at you, we see glory piled 
upon glory, qualities heaped upon qualities. You are re- 
spected by all the world for your rank and birth. You are 
admired by all who see you for your graces of mind and 
person. Your soul is yet more beautiful, and if wc may 
venture to say so, inspires all who have the honour of ap- 
proaching you with love. I speak of that charming sweet- 
ness with which you temper the pride of your exalted rank, of 
that winning kindness, that generous affability which you 
show to all the world. These last qualities are those especi- 
ally which are best known to me, and concerning which I 
feel that the time will soon come when I shall no longer be 
able to keep silence. Once more, Madame, I cannot enter 
here on these widely-known truths. To my mind they are 
too far-reaching and too excellent to be enclosed in an 
epistle, or to be mingled with trifles of this kind. When all 
has been said, I see nothing, Madame, but simply to dedicate 
my comedy to you, and to assure you, with all possible re- 
spect, that I am, Madame, Your Royal Highness's most 
humble, most obedient and most grateful servant. 

"J. B. MOLliiRE." 

This was written in March 1663, when Madame was not 
yet nineteen years of age. L'Ecole des Femmes, which had 

N 



194 BOILEAU. 

been first acted at Christmas 1662, and afterwards repeatedly 
performed at the Louvre and Palais-Royal, met with extra- 
ordinary success, and became the most popular of all Moli^re's 
plays. 

The second poet of the group. La Fontaine, was well 
known to Madame, through Madame de La P'ayette and La 
Rochefoucauld, both of whom were among his most constant 
patrons. His Contes of 1665, and his Fables which appeared 
in 1668, with a dedication to the Dauphin, were widely read 
and often quoted in her circle, but the Epithalainiiuii, which 
he composed in her honour, is the only trace we find in his 
works of any direct connection with Madame. Of her kind- 
ness to his comrade, Boileau, a pretty little annecdote is told. 
He had lately written his clever poem, Le L^itrin, inspired, it 
is well known, by a quarrel as to the removal of an old reading- 
desk in the choir of the Sainte-Chapelle. This dainty bit of 
satire had been read to Madame, while still in manuscript. 
A ^c\v days afterwards, as Madame was following the King 
and Queen to mass, in the chapel of Versailles, she caught 
sight of Boileau among the crowd of courtiers, and beckoning 
him to approach, with one of her charming smiles, she 
whispered the following lines from his own poem in his ear : — 

" Soupire, ^tend les bras, ferme Tceil et s'endort." 

This graceful act attracted general notice, and the poet, 
who was then slowly struggling towards fame, went home 
charmed with so delicate and spontaneous a compliment to 
his Muse. 

But of these four friends, it was Racine who owed the 
most to Madame. He had been educated at Port-Royal, and 
was early introduced to her by his friends at Court. She 
gave the young poet the help of her support and encourage- 
ment in the beginning of his career, and defended his first 
works against the prejudices of the old school and the ex- 
clusive admirers of Corneille. " Racine," said Madame de 
Sevign6, " will never go very far." Voltaire remarks, that she 
was as much mistaken, as when she said that coffee would 
soon go out of fashion ! Madame was of a different opinion. 
She made the poet read his works, in her presence, to a select 



RACINE. 195 

audience of her friends, and the tears which she herself shed 
over the sorrows of Aitdroviague were proudly recalled by 
Racine in the dedication of his first great tragedy. 

" Madame, — It is not without reason that I place your 
illustrious name at the head of this work. What other name 
could I choose, to dazzle the eyes of my readers, than that of 
her whose presence has already enchanted my audience ? It 
is well known that Your Royal Highness has deigned to take 
my tragedy under her protection, that you have helped me 
to enrich the theme with fresh beauties. Above all, it is no 
secret that you honoured the first reading of my drama with 
}'Our tears. Pardon me, Madame, if I venture to boast of 
these fortunate beginnings, which console me for the sternness 
of those who will not allow their hearts to be touched. They 
may condemn my Andromaqiie as much as they will, now I 
can appeal from the subtleties of their imagining, to the heart 
of Your Royal Highness. But, Madame, I know that you 
judge the merits of a work, not alone by the heart, but by the 
light of an intellect which cannot be deceived. Could we put 
on the stage a story which is not known to you as well as to 
us ? Could we invent a plot of which you would not at once 
detect the secret ? And could we possibly conceive sen- 
timents as elevated, and as tender as are the thoughts of 
your soul ? It is well known, Madame, that in the exalted 
station, where nature and fortune have placed you, you do 
not despise the more obscure glory of men of letters. The 
society of the Court regards you as the arbiter of all that is 
beautiful. And we, who seek to please the public, need no 
longer take the rules of the learned for our guide. All we 
have to do is to please Your Royal Highness. This, no 
doubt, is the least of your many excellent qualities. But it 
is one of which I can speak from experience, without depart- 
ing from the profound veneration with which I remain Your 
Royal Highness's most humble, most obedient and most 
faithful servant. jEAN RACINE." 

In this instance, at least, the example which Madame had 
set, was followed by the whole nation. The first representa- 



\g6 madame's love of letters. 

tion of A7idro7naque in 1667, was received with the greatest 
enthusiasm, and the young poet's reputation was made. Two 
years afterwards, Henrietta, only a few months before her 
own death, suggested the story of Titus and Berenice, as the 
subject of a drama, both to Corneille and Racine. The two 
poets set to work in obedience to her commands. The secret 
was so well kept, that neither was aware that his rival was 
employed on the same theme until the two works were 
finished. Berenice, says Voltaire, was a duel, of which the 
whole world has heard the result. This time the younger 
poet bore off the laurels, and not only Madame, but the whole 
Court hailed the success of Racine's tragedy with acclama- 
tion. 

This fine taste and genuine love of literature redeemed 
Madame's character from frivolity, and distinguished her 
from all the other ladies of Louis XIV.'s Court. " She had," 
says Bussy, " more greatness and delicacy of taste, in things 
of the mind, than all the ladies of the Court put together, and 
her death is therefore an infinite loss." And Madame de 
Scud6ry wrote in almost the same words. " All persons of 
wit and merit have had a great loss in Madame. It is certain 
that she had more mind than any other lady at Court, and that 
she alone knew how to recognise real worth." Sainte-Beuve 
remarks justly how far superior Madame was, in this respect, 
to that other charming Princess who brightened the close of 
the great reign, her own grand-daughter, the lamented Duchess 
of Burgundy. Marie Adelaide was a merry child, whose high 
spirits and light-hearted gaiety made her the pet and plaything 
of all, but she belonged to another generation of Frenchwomen, 
whose conduct was regulated by the standard of a debased 
and licentious age. She had a passion for cards, and loved 
boisterous games. Madame's tastes were of a more refined 
and elevated character. In her gayest moments, she never 
forgot what was due to herself, and her lively imagination 
lent new charm to the pastimes of the Court. With her the 
best days of the grand siecle passed away. The pleasures of 
the Court lost their culture and brightness, and sank into a 
joyless and vulgar dissipation. The fetes, remarks Madame 
de Sevign6, became dull and spiritless, the ballets were 



LA fare's opinion. 197 

abandoned. There was no one left to lead them. The King 
himself never danced in one again, after Madame's death, and 
for the next ten years they were altogether abandoned. 
" There can be no doubt," wrote La Fare, long afterwards, 
" that in Madame, the Court lost the only person of her rank, 
who was capable of distinguishing true merit. Since her 
death, all has been gambling, confusion and bad manners." 



CHAPTER XV 
1665 

Ballet of the Birth of Venus — The Comet^War between England and Holland — 
Negotiations between Charles II. and Louis XIV. conducted by Madame 
— A Special Embassy sent to London. 

In January 1665, a new ballet, which had for its subject the 
Birth of Venus, was given at the Palais-Royal. Benserade 
composed the verses, and the Due de Saint-Aignan assisted 
Madame in the preparations. Henrietta herself represented 
the Goddess of Beauty, and appeared, in the opening scene, 
rising from the sea on a throne of mother-of-pearl, attended 
by twelve fair Nereids, among whom were La Valli^re and 
Mademoiselle de Sevignd Monsieur, as the Day-star, accom- 
panied by four Hours, then called her to ascend to the home 
of the gods on Olympus, and the Queen of Love and Beauty 
rose, gently wafted through the air to the strains of sweet 
music, chaunted by the best Court singers, in the guise of 
Tritons. In the next scene, Venus received the hoiTiage of 
the gods, heroes, philosophers and poets of antiquity in turn. 
Last of all, the King appeared as Alexander, leading Madame, 
as Roxana, by the hand, and the two danced a stately measure 
while the chorus sang fresh hymns in their praise. This ballet 
was repeated several times during the winter, until Madame 
fell ill and was glad to depute one of her maids-of-honour, 
Mademoiselle de Fiennes, to take her part. She was ailing 
all that spring, but her activity of body and mind seemed to 
be greater than ever, and she was engaged in a perpetual inter- 
change of letters with her brother on the subject of the pro- 
posed treaty between France and I'Zngland. 

On the 15th of December 1664, Charles wrote the follow- 
ing letter : — 

198 



THE COMET, 199 

" I wish very much that the treaty of commerce were 
finished, that then we might enter into that of the stricte 
alhance which I am very impatient of, for I assure you my 
owne inchnation carryes me to it, and I am confident we shall 
finde both our accounts in it. I beleeve my friendship to 
France is and will be more considerable then that of the 
Hollanders in many respects, and you may have it, if you 
will. The house of Commons hath this day settled the 
several! rates upon the countyes for the raysing of the five 
and twenty hundred thousand pounds, and there is a bill 
preparing for that purpose, so as that matter is as good as 
done. Since my last to you, we have taken many more Duch 
ships ; the truth is, hardly any escapes us that passe through 
the chanell. I beleeve we have taken already above fouer- 
score, and every day there comes in more. They brag very 
much that they will eate us up in the Spring, and so they 
did some two monthes agoe, but as yett we are all alive. 
By the letters from Paris, I perceeve that the blazing 
Starr hath been seen there likewise, I hope it will have the 
same effect heere as that in Germany had, and then we 
shall beate our neighbouring Turks, as well as they beate 
theres. I will say no more at this time, but that I am 
intierly yours. C. R." 

The victory over the Turks, to which Charles alludes, was 
that of Montecuculi, who had just defeated the Grand Vizier 
Ahmed Kouprouli in the battle of St. Gothard. The comet 
was at the time exciting much attention on both sides of the 
Channel, and causing much alarm among the prophets of 
evil. A French writer describes it as having a head as large 
as a plate, bristling all over with nails, and with a tail as long 
as three arms, turned now east, now west. Madame de 
Sevign^, writing to M. de Pomponne, describes how she is 
sitting up till three o'clock, in hopes of seeing the phenomenon, 
over which all the astrologers and wise men are disputing. 
Was it a presage of good or evil, she wonders ? But the ap- 
pearance of another blazing star, higher in the sky, two days 
before Christmas, very much disconcerted the wise men, who 
could not decide whether this were a new comet, or merely 



200 THE COMET. 

the old one appearing again in a different part of the heavens, 
Charles returns to the subject in his next letter. 

" Whithall, 

" 26 December 1664. 

" I have receaved yours by my L** Rochester but yesterday, 
Silvius haveing given me your other three dayes before, and 
will not faile upon the first occasion, to do what you desire 
with the precaution you wish." (This was Madame's letter of 
the 17th of December, on the subject of De Vardes's arrest.) 
" I send you heere a printed paper, which will clearly informe 
you of the state of the quarrell between me and Holland, by 
which you will see that they are the agressors and the breakers 
of the peace, and not we ; I pray reade it with care that you 
may be fully instructed, for I do not dout but Van Benning- 
hen (the Dutch Ambassador at the French Court) will use all 
sortes of artes to make us seeme the agressors, and I would 
be glad that you might be able to answer anything that may 
be objected in that matter. We have seen heere the Comett, 
but the wether has been so cloudy, as I never saw it but once. 
It was very low and had a taile that stood upwards, it is now 
above twelve days since I saw it, but upon Christmas eve and 
the night before, there was another seene very much higher 
than the former. I saw it both nights and it lookes much 
lesser than the first, but none of the Astronimers can tell 
whether it be a new one or the old one growne lesse and got 
up higher, but all conclude it to be no ordinary starr. Pray 
inquire of the skillfull men, and lett me know whether it has 
been seen at Paris. This new one was seen heere, the 23rd 
and 24th of this month, old style, and had a little taile which 
stood north-east. I have no more to trouble you with, but 
that I am yours. C. R." 

On the 19th, Madame had written as follows : — 
" I have sent Bonnefond, who is my Master of the Horse, 
to buy some horses. Be so good as to give him the neces- 
sary passport." This was an errand on which Madame's 
servants were frequently employed. Passes for her horses 
into France were constantly granted by the King, some- 
times for six, sometimes for twelve horses, on one occasion 



THE COMET. 20I 

for as many as twenty-three at a time. She continues : — " I 
must tell you that my Lord Hollis has informed me of the 
articles which you wish to uphold. The first I think very 
reasonable, but as regards the second, in which you ask that 
past treaties may be cancelled, the King cannot in honour 
do this, and if you wish for some pledge of this kind, it 
must be of a private nature between you and him, for it 
would be unjust to demand it in any other way. I think you 
know the Dutch are sending a man here. I tell you this, 
as I know these comings and goings concern you, and will let 
you know if I hear any more particulars. I tell the Queen 
all the news, which she will no doubt give you, and so I will 
otily ask your pardon for not having thanked you before this 
for the honour you do my son, in promising to be his god- 
father, and remain your very humble servant." 

On the iith of January 1665 she wrote again, and 
answered her brother's questions, both as regards the treaty 
and the comet. 

" I have read the paper you send me very regularly, and 
am glad to hear what is happening, in order to know what 
I am to reply. I tell my Lord Fitzhardinge the reason 
why there are many things I cannot speak of now, but I 
expect this will not last, and you will find it out first. The 
last time I wrote, I begged you to tell me what people think 
of the comet in England, and, two hours afterwards, I received 
3^ours, in which you asked me the same question. I must 
tell you then, that assemblies have been held at the Jesuits' 
Observatory, to which all the wise men went and all the 
foolish ones too. They disputed according to their belief, 
but no two of them think alike I Some say it is the same 
star that has come back, and others that it is an altogether 
new one, and as one would have to go there to find out the 
truth, I suppose the question must remain undecided, as well 
as the stuff of which it is made, which is also a matter of 
great dispute. This is all that my ignorance permits me to 
tell you, but I daresay it is enough to satisfy your curiosity, 
sxnce Messieurs les savants are no doubt everyone of them 
fools, or nearly so, which is all that will be told you to-day 
by your very humble servant." 



202 THE CELEBRE AMBASSADE. 

The negotiations between the two Kings dragged on all 
through the year. Charles was anxious to prove the Dutch 
to have been the aggressors in the war with England, and 
maintained that Louis XIV. was therefore not bound, by the 
Treaty of 1662, to help them. Louis, on his part, was by 
no means anxious either to violate his engagements with 
the Dutch, nor yet to quarrel with England. His policy was 
to gain time, and so we find first one difficulty, then another 
arising, before a single article of the Treaty can be concluded. 
But since M. de Comminges plainly inspired Charles II. with 
distrust, Louis resolved to send the Due de Verneuil and M. 
Courtin as Ambassadors to England, with the special object 
of restoring peace with Holland. The CtHebre Anibassade, 
as this deputation was called, set out with great pomp early 
in April, but, as will be seen, proved as ineffectual as all other 
attempts at mediation. " My fleet has already set sail, my 
people are in a rage," remarked Charles to Courtin ; " what 
more is to be said ? " after which, catching sight of Lord St. 
Albans in the passage, his Majesty called out to him, — " Do 
come here ; here is a little man I can neither convince nor 
silence ! " With these words he hurried off, on the plea that 
it was supper time. The astonished Ambassador duly reported 
this conversation, and remarked in a letter to Lionne that, 
" whereas the King, our master, can order his subjects to do as 
he pleases, the King of England is bound to obey his." Mean- 
while, Charles wrote to his sister on the 5th of January : — 

" I have little to say to you at this time, expecting that 
the Treaty of commerce will be finished, that then we might 
enter upon the strict alliance. I perceive that Van Benninghen 
does use all possible artes and trickes, to make me appeare 
the aggressour, but if you have read over the printed paper 
I sent you, you will clearly finde the contrary, and that 'tis 
the Dutch hath begun with us, which now playnly appeares 
by what de Rutter hath done in Guiny, and I am sure there 
is nothing in the King of France's treaty that oblieges him 
to second them, if they be the attaquers, so that except he 
has a minde to helpe them, he is in no wayes oblieged to it 
by treaty. For, by the Treaty, he is only to defend them in 



M. DE COMMINGES. 203 

case they be attaqued, and they are now the attacquers, so that 
we only defend ourselves. I say this to you, because the 
Ambassadour heere, came to me by order from his master, 
and sayd many thinges to me, from him, upon the subject of 
Holland, a little too pressing, and not in the stile Charles 
Berkeley was spoken to, in that matter when he was there, 
and I cannot chuse but observe that Monsieur de Cominges 
is much more eloquent when there is anything to be said 
that lookes not so kinde towards me, than when there is any 
kindnesse to be expressed, I wish with all my hart that 
there were a good occasion for Charles Berkeley to make 
another voyage to you, for my inclinations are to give my 
frindship to France, but if that cannot be had, I am not so 
inconsiderable but that I can make very considerable frind- 
ships elsewhere. The truth of it is I am presst at this time 
very much, and am offered very advantageous conditions, 
but I preferr the frindship with France in the first place, in 
case I can have it, and I assure you one of the great reasons 
why I do so, is because you are there. I write all this only 
to your selfe, though you may make what use of it you 
please, so as you do not use my name, for I would not be 
thought to seeke any bodys frindship, who is not ready to 
meet me halfe way. The wether is so colde, as I can hardly 
hold a penn in my hand, which you may perceeve by my 
scribbling, and I am affraide you will hardly reade this 
letter, my dearest sister, I am intierly yours. C. R." 

Charles's next letter begins with an allusion to Henrietta's 
own troubles, and to the suspicions which De Vardes and the 
Comtesse de Soissons had tried to instil into the King's 
mind. But he soon resumes the old subject. 

" Whithall, 

" \2 Jan. 1665. 

" I hope by this time that the K. of france is returned to 

the same freedome he has alwaise used towards you ; I am 

sure you ought to do all you can to keepe him very kinde to 

you, which I do not doute but you will, it being so necessary 

for the condition you are in. Mon' de Cominge was with me 

again yesterday, to presse me concerning the businesse of 



204 THE DUTCH WAR. 

Holland, and I tould him I would not faile to give the King, 
my brother, the true state of that matter, and that my 
ambassadore there had already given Mon'^ de Lionne those 
papers, which would cleerly make it appeare that the Duch 
were the aggressors, which now is evident by what de Rutter 
hath done in Guiny, who had his orders to take our ships 
before we had made so much as the least stop of any of there 
ships, and you may tell the K., my brother, that I will lett him 
know what my pretentions are, than Van Benningen may not 
have the least pretence to say that I desire warre for warre 
sake, for I know that he does use all sortes of artes to make 
me the agressore, and does not sticke to afifirme matters of 
fact which are not true, and which will be proved to be so. 
I am sure, if I can have what is iust and reasonable, I shall 
not desire the efusion of blood, nor wish to runn the hazards 
of a warre, though I may say that, reasonably speaking, the 
advantage lies on our side for many reasons, which are visable 
enough. The Duch Ambassadore did yesterday, in discourse 
with me say, that de Rutter had orders from the States to goe 
for Guiny, which he never acknowledged before, and I believe 
it came out before he thought of it. I have put Holmes into 
the tower for his takeing of Cape Verd without orders, and I 
am certaine they can have no pretence that we have done any 
thing like an act of hostility but that, and that was done by a 
privat Captaine without authority. Tiiere was a particular 
article in the treaty in case of such accidents, which the Duch 
have absolutely broake, by sending de Rutter thither, and 
providing an other fleete which was to have followed, if they 
durst have come out. In fine, I do not dout, but to make it 
evident to the King, my brother, that he is no way obliged to 
favour them, they being the attacquers, and if there be any 
kindnesse to be showed, I hope I may reasonably expect it, 
before those who used France so unworthily in the treaty at 
Munster. You may make what use you thinke fitt of this 
letter, to the king, my brother, and I will as soone as I can lett 
him know, what in iustice I expect from the Duch, and so I 
will end with assuring you that I am yours. C. R." 

The complaints about IJremcn, to which Charles alludes 



THE DUTCH WAR. 205 

in his next letter, seem to have been a mere pretence for 
delay, and Ruvigny wrote to Lionne that, after diligent 
researches had been made, all that could be discovered was 
that the cities of Hamburg, Lubeck and Bremen had been 
asked for a description of their ships, in order that they might 
not be mistaken for Dutch men-of-war. 

" Whithall, 

" I have received yours of the 20 and you have reason to 
wonder that you have been so long without heareing from me, 
but I have had nothing to say, and it has been so colde heere, 
as it did not invite one to write nothing, and I did not write 
to you by ]^onncfond, because I thought he would be long 
upon the way with his horses. I shall not say much to you 
now, because Ruvigny will be despatched in two or three 
dayes, and by him you shall heare at large from me, only I 
cannot chuse but observe to you now, that I see that 
Mon"" Comminge does me all good ofifices there, by foretelling 
my intentions in as ill a sence as he uses to doe. My 
L'* Hollis writes something to me about my giveing commis- 
sions to the Citty of Bremen, which the K., my brother, sayes 
he will be satisfied in, before he goes on with our treaty,^ 
w*^** is so great a dreame to me, as I know not from whence 
this fancy proceedes, except it be from Mon'^'de Comminge, 
whoe, I am confident, you will finde in the end hath done me 
as many ill offices as it hath layne in his power to doe, and I 
do wonder that, after all the advances I made by C. Barkly, I 
should find the treaty go on slower then it did, my U^ Hollis 
haveing receaved not yett an answer to his last paper, which 
is now almost two months agoe. After all this, when 
Ruvigny returnes, you shall find m}"- minde not changed, but 
that I will be as sincere in that matter as I promised you to 
be, and if there be any thing altered in my condition, since 
we first talked of this matter, it is for the better, and so good 
night for 'tis late. C. R." 

Three days later, we have another letter, in which the King 
tells his sister of an important advantage gained by the 
English ships over the Dutch, off Cadiz. 



206 THE DUTCH WAR. 

" Whithall, 

" ^1 Jan. 1665. 

" In my last, I tould you that I would not enlarge my selfe 
upon the matters betweene me and the king, my brother, till 
the returne of Ruvigny, to vvhome I have now fully opened 
my minde in all particulars, which I would not do to 
Mon"" de Comminge, because I am most confident, by all the 
observations I can make, he does not desire there should be 
a good correspondence between us, and if the advances I now 
make have not the successe I wish, I must conclude there is 
no inclination to have a frindship with me. I shall not 
enlarge my selfe upon the particulars because Ruvigny will 
do it better by word of mouth, to whome I referr you. Since 
the losse of my two ships at Giberaltar, I have had some good 
fortune to recompense it, for Cap. Allen, with but seven of my 
ships, hath mett hard by Cadiz the Duch Smirna fleete of 30 
ships, has taken three of them and sunke two, and if the 
wether had not been very bad, they would not have escaped 
so well. I do not yett know of what valew the ships are 
which are taken, but they write from Holland that that which 
is sunke was worth one hundred thousand pounds, and if 
there Admiral had not been so very neere the Porte, he had 
been sunke likewise, for he gott in with 7 foot watter in holde. 
They behaved themselves very poorly, for they had 4 men of 
warr to convoy them and many of there marchants had 30 
guns a peece, which might have made good resistance if there 
hartes had not failed them, and two of our seven had but 24 
guns a peece. I will not trouble you more at this time, only 
expect a returne from Ruvigny with impatiency. I am 
intierly yours. C. R." 

On the 9th of February, Charles writes again, in his 
liveliest vein : — 

" I must, in the first place, aske you pardon for haveing 
mist so many posts, the truth of it is, which betweene businesse 
and the little mascarades we have had, and besides the little 
businesse I had to write, with the helpe of the cold wether, I 
did not think it worth your trouble and my owne to freeze my 
fingers for nothing, haveing sayd all to Ruvigny that was upon 



BIRTH OF QUEEN ANNE. 20/ 

my harte. I am very glad to find by yours that you are so 
well satisfied with what he brings, it lies wholy on your part 
now to answer the advances I have made, and if all be not 
as you wish, the faute is not on my side, I was this morning 
at the parlament house, to passe the Bill for the five and 
twenty hundred thousand pounds, and the commissioners are 
going into there several! countryes, for the raysing of it 
according to the Act. We are useing all possible diligence in 
the setting out the fleete for the spring. My L"^ Sandwich 
sett saile two da}'es since, with i8 good ships, to seeke out a 
squadron of the Duch fleete, w^^ we heare was scene upon the 
north coast of England, and if he had the good fortune to 
meete with them, I hope he will give a good accounte of them. 
I am very glad to heere that your indisposition of health is 
turned into a greate belly, I hope you will have better lucke 
with it then the Duchesse heere had, who was brought to bed, 
monday last, of a girle. One part I shall wish you to have, 
which is that you may have as easy a labour, for shee dis- 
patched her businesse in little more than an houer. I am 
afraide your shape is not so advantageously made for that 
convenience as hers is, however a boy will recompense two 
grunts more, and so good night, for feare I fall into naturale 
philosophy, before I thinke of it. I am Yours. C. R." 

The child to whom the Duchess of York had just given 
birth, was the Princess Anne, afterwards Queen of England, 
The cold, to which Charles alludes so frequently, was very 
severe that winter, the Seine was frozen over, and Madame de 
Comminges's return to France was delayed by the state of the 
roads, which made travelling impossible. Her wardrobe had 
been packed and sent off already, so that the poor lady re- 
mained for a whole fortnight, without any clothes excepting 
her travelling suit, and was obliged to keep her room for want 
of suitable apparel. Luckily, a thaw set in by the end of 
January, and she reached Paris in blooming health, as we learn 
from Madame's next letter. 

" 2oth Feb. 1665. 
" Madame de Comminges has arrived so well and fat that, 
if I had no other reason for desiring to go to England, 



208 LORD HOLLIS. 

this would make me wish it with my whole heart. Even 
Mirabeau (Madame de Fiennes) says, she should hang her- 
self, if she did not hope to go back there some day ! 
She has tried to execute your commission, which agreed 
so well with the style of a letter that you sent me, that 
I have spared her the trouble. The Ambassadors are very 
busy preparing to start. Do not forgot to reply to the re- 
quest which has been addressed to you by the Queen and 
Lord Fitzhardinge, for they only await your answer to set 
out. To-morrow there is to be a ball here, although it is 
Lent, to bid them farewell." 

Madame's next letter is occupied with one of Lord Hollis's 
usual grievances. An English merchant at Bordeaux had a 
quarrel with a rude Dutchman, of the name of Oyens, who 
called the King a pirate, and the Duke of York a captain of 
thieves, and made use of many other coarse expressions, upon 
which Hollis appealed to the French authorities for the man's 
punishment, and Henrietta, after her wont, tried to pour oil 
on the troubled waters. 

" Paris, 

" 3 Ma?-ch. 

" The King has ordered me to tell you of a thing which has 
happened at Bordeaux, and in which my Lord Hollis has 
asked for justice. You must know then that three or four 
persons, walking in the port, began to discuss the Dutch war. 
One of them, an Englishman, said you would never make 
peace, unless you received compensation for the expenses of 
the war. They then asked the opinion of a Dutchman, who 
said his country was not rich enough for that, and proceeded 
to call you and the Duke of York bad names. My Lord 
Hollis insists that this is a point of honour, although no one 
as a rule cares for what people say in the streets. All the 
same, the King begs me to tell you, that if you wish it, the 
men shall be sought out and punished in any way you desire. 
M. de Verneuil has been rather unwell, but I do not think 
this will retard his journey. I will tell him the honour you do 
him, and end this letter in assuring you that I am your very 
humble servant." 



FRENCH PRISONERS. 209 

Charles replied promptly : — 

" Whithall, 
" 27 Feb. 1665. 

" I am sorry thet m}^ L'^ Hollis has asked iustice upon a 
point of honour that I should never have thought of; you know 
the old saying in England, the more a T. is stirr'd, the more 
it stinkes, and I do not care a T. for anything a Duch man 
sayes of me, and so I thinke you have enough upon this dirty 
subject, which nothing but a stinking Duch man could have 
been the cause of, but pray thanke the King, my brother, and 
desire him not to take any kinde of notice of it, for such idle 
discourses are not worth his anger or myne. I have been all 
this day at Hamton-court, and it is so long since I have been 
a-horse back, as with this smale dayes journey I am weary 
enough to beg your pardon if I say no more now, but that I 
am yours. C. R." 

Madame was never idle where the honour of her brother 
was concerned, and when news reached her ears that cruelties 
had been inflicted on Frenchmen by his sailors, she hastened 
to draw his attention to tiiese reports, in order that she might 
contradict them with greater force. 

"De Paris, 
'■'■ ce 22 Mars 1665. 

" I have heard of the cruelty of the Dutch in Guinea, which 

is frightful, if it is true. It is also reported that your people 

have made some Frenchmen prisoners, and tortured them 

cruelly, to make them confess they were going to Holland, 

but I maintain that this cannot be true, or at least that it is 

done without your approval, and that so generous a soul as 

yours would never allow such treatment of your enemies, far 

less of Frenchmen who are your friends. Write me word, I 

beg, of what has happened and whether, if this is true, you 

have taken care it should not happen again, since nothing is 

more worthy of you than to use your power to make yourself 

at once beloved and feared, and to prevent all the horrors 

which too often accompany war. I end by assuring you that 

I am your most humble servant." 

O 



210 madame's letters. 

Charles replied, in a letter dated the 26th of March (O.S.) 

" There is no such thing as that newes you heard of Guiny ; 
at first it looked like truth, for a sea man, pretending to be a 
Swede, came to me, and made a very particular relation of it, 
and afterwards took liis oath of it before the Admiralty, but 
upon some contradictions, he gave him selfe in examining, we 
found him to be a Duch man, who thought by this invention 
to gett some money, but at last he was founde out, and has 
been whiped through Cheapside for his periury. I could wish 
that what you write to me, concerning the treatment of some 
French sea men by ours, were as false. I have receaved a 
memoriall this day about it from the french Ambassadour, and 
have given orders that, if it be founde to be true, it be severely 
punished. I do assure you I am extreamly troubled at it, 
there shall be very seveare iustice done. I am going to Port- 
mouth tomorrow, for 4 or 5 dayes, for the ordering of some 
thinges there, and have no more time leftc me now, only to 
assure you that I am intierly yours. C. R." 

A short letter which Henrietta addressed about this time 
to Henry Bennet, afterwards Lord Arlington, on his appoint- 
ment to the office of Secretary of State, is interesting as a 
proof of her anxiety to be on good terms with her brother's 
ministers. 

" I would not have written to you so soon, since the Am- 
bassadors start on Monday, and will not only give you all the 
news, but business enough to occupy you for a long time to 
come, but the new honour which the King has done you, 
obliges me, as one of your friends, to assure you that no one 
is better pleased than I am, or wishes you the continuance of 
his favour more warmly than I do." 

On the 8th of April, she wrote another letter to her 
brother, which threw light on Louis XIV.'s ambitious projects, 
and reveals the secret plans which governed his whole policy. 

" Madame de Fiennes having told me that you would be 
glad to see a pattern of the vests that are worn here, I take 
the liberty of sending you one, and am sure that on your fine 
figure it will look very well. M. de Verncuil will arrive so 



MADAME'S ADVICE. 211 

soon after this letter, and as I do not think he will succeed in 
making peace with Holland, and that I do not think it desir- 
able for the King to take their parts, I beg of you to consider 
if some secret treaty could not be arranged, by which you 
could make sure of this, by giving a pledge on your part that 
you would help in the business he will soon have in Flanders, 
now the King of Spain is ill, and which will certainly be 
opposed by the Dutch, but will not be contrary to your in- 
terests. Think this over well, I beg of you, but never let any- 
one know that I was the first to mention it to you, only 
remember there is no one in the world who would so will- 
ingly serve you, or who wishes for your welfare as heartily as 
I do. My enemies here look so suspiciously on all I do, that 
soon I shall hardly venture to speak of your affairs ! So, when 
you wish me to say something, send me word, and when I 
have a message to give from you, I shall have a right to speak 
on the subject." 

We do not possess the King's reply to this confidential 
letter, and a little note which he wrote on the 22d of April 
is the only one that belongs to this month, 

" This is the second letter I have writt to you to-day, ther- 
fore it is likely it will be the shortest, and the only businesse 
of it is to accompany the bearer. Jack Russell, who commandes 
my Regiment of gardes, who is goeing to Burbon for his 
health. I have nothing to add, only that he is a person I 
am very kind to, and a very honest man, and I desire you to 
looke upon him according to this carracter, and so I am yours. 

" C. R." 



CHAPTER XVI 
1665 — i666 

Naval War between England and Holland — Victory of the Duke of York — 
Rejoicings in Parib — Tiie Great Plague — Return of the Ambassadors to 
France — Death of Anne of Austria — Sermons of 1' Abbe Bossuet. 

The war now began in good earnest. The English fleet — 
"the finest sight in the world," wrote Comminges, sailed out 
of the Thames, under the Duke of York's command, and a 
battle was daily expected. On both sides of the Channel 
the movements of the rival fleets were eagerly watched, and 
news of their first encounter was impatiently awaited. 
Madame grew terribly anxious as the days went by. On 
the 27th of May she wrote to her brother in an agitated 
frame of mind, from Saint-Germain, where the Court was 
spending the summer. 

" I would not answer the letter which you sent me by 
M. de Sainton, by the post, because our letters are so often 
opened. I would perhaps have spoken to the King, as it 
were on my own account, about all that, but I have been 
prevented by the prospect of a battle which is sure to be 
furious, and is likely to change the face of affairs. If he had 
given me a positive reply, everything might be altered before 
you received this letter, for by the last news from Holland, 
we hear that their fleet has left port, and that in consequence 
a battle is certain. This, I confess, is a thing which makes 
me tremble. Whatever advantage you may have, it is, after 
all. Fortune which decides most things in this world. I 
cannot bear to think that this little handful of miserable 
creatures should dare to defy you. It is pushing glory rather 

far, but I cannot help it. Everyone has his private fancy, 

212 



A GUITAR PLAYER. 21 3 

and mine is to be very much alive to all that concerns you ! 
I hope you will not blame me, and this will show you once 
more that there is no one who loves you as well as I do." 

Charles, on his part, showed his habitual coolness. 

On the eve of the expected fight, he writes in his gayest 
strain to his sister, and sends her the latest composition of 
his favourite guitar player, Francesco Corbetta. This was the 
Italian musician mentioned in Gramont's memoirs, who had 
made guitar playing so fashionable at the English Court 
*' Lords and ladies alike raved over his genius and tried to 
imitate his example. Hardly had he composed a sarabande 
than all the world played it. God knows the universal 
scraping that was heard wherever you went." A year before, 
Corbetta had paid a visit to Paris, but had been so ill on his 
arrival, that he had been unable to appear before Madame, 
and had begged leave to return to Whitehall without delay. 
The Marechal d'Humieres, who was now on his way back 
from England, was a valiant soldier and a great friend of 
Turenne and Madame de Sevigne, which rendered him 
acceptable both to Madame and her brother. 

"Whithall, 

29 Afay 1665. 

" By that time this letter comes to your handes, I believe 
Mon'' d'Humieres will be with you, and I pray be kinde to 
him upon my score, for I take him to be very much my 
frinde, and as worthy a man as I do know ; he will informe 
you how all thinges are heere, and I do not give him the 
commendation upon an ordinary score of civility, but upon 
the confidence of his being as good a frinde where he applyes 
himselfe as ever lived, which, in this age, is no little virtue, 
there being so few persons in the world worth a frindeship, 
and I will answer for him that he will not make me ashamed 
of the good opinion I have of him ; he expresses to me, upon 
all occasions, how much he is your servant, for which you may 
easily beleeve I do not love him the lesse, and I am confident 
you cannot finde a man in all France worthyer of your good 
opinion and trust then himselfe. The Ambassadors have 
given me this day propositions in writing from the Hollanders, 
in order to the composing of the differences now betweene 



214 ILLNESS OF THE QUEEN-MOTHER. 

us; I have not yett had time to consider them, and to make 
answer to them, but I hope in a few dayes my brother will 
meet with there fleete, and make them much more reasonable 
then they are at present, I have had no letters from my 
brother this day, but I beleeve he will be ready to sett saile 
in two or three dayes, and then I beleeve a Battle will follow 
very quickly. I have heere sent you some lessons for the 
guittar, which I hope will please you ; the Comte de Gramont 
did carry over with him others, which it may be you have, 
and as Francesco makes any more that pleases me, I will 
send them to you, I have no more to-day at present but that 
I am intierly Yours. C. R." 

In her next letter from Saint-Germain, Henrietta mentions 
her mother-in-law's dangerous illness. For some time past 
Anne of Austria had suffered from cancer ; she had consulted 
every doctor, and, according to Gui Patin, tried every quack 
remedy in turn, with the effect of doing her malady more 
harm than good. Twice over during the course of this 
summer she was thought to be dying, and received the last 
sacraments. " The Queen," wrote Hollis in August, " holds 
out, but the doctors give no hope of improvement. It makes 
a sad Court, and it will, I fear, soon be a sadder one." 

"30 A fat 1665. 

" Although the illness of the Queen, my mother-in-law, is 
the cause of great distress here, and you will see from my 
letter to the Queen the state she is in, and understand the 
general consternation, I will not fail to speak to the King, 
and urge him to give you a positive answer to your last letter. 
And at least, if he does not write, I shall be able to get some 
idea of his sentiments, which is, it seems to me, what you wish 
most to obtain, in order to know where you are. This is the 
pleasure of having to do with honest persons ! Ever since 
you have let me into your secrets, 1 am on thorns when I do 
not see my way clearly what to report. I hope you will send 
me some positive orders, when you find a safe messenger." 

Charles replied in a short note dated the 1st of June: — 



A NAVAL VICTORY. 21 5 

" I send this bearer, George Porter, with no other errand 
then upon the subject of the Queene mother's indisposition, 
who I feare, by the nature of her disease, and what I finde by 
the letters from thence, will not long be in a position to 
receave any compliments. This bearer will tell you of our 
fleete being gone to seeke out the Duch, and you know him 
so well as I neede say nothing more to you. He will play 
his owne part, and make you laugh before he returnes, which 
is all the businesse he has there, except it be to assure you 
with how much kindnesse I am Yours. C. R." 

Suddenly, a report reached Paris that a great naval battle 
had taken place, in which the Duke of York's ship had been 
blown up, and he himself had been drowned. The shock was 
too much for Madame, after the last week of painful suspense. 
She was seized with convulsions, and became so dangerously 
ill that Lord Hollis wrote to the King : " If things had gone ill 
at sea, I really believe Madame would have died." Happily, 
the next posts brought the true version of the great victory 
which had been won by the Duke of York off Lowestoft, on 
the 3d of June. The flagship of the Dutch admiral, Opdam, 
had been blown up, and he had perished in the explosion, to- 
gether with 500 of his men. Seventeen other vessels had been 
sunk, or taken prisoner, and the remnants of the fleet had 
taken refuge on the coast of Holland. The good news was 
hailed with great rejoicings in England, and Comminges com- 
plained that his windows were broken by the mob, because 
they were not illuminated. The victory, however, had cost 
England many brave lives. Both Lord Falmouth, as the 
King's trusted servant, Charles Berkeley, had lately become, 
and Lord Muskerry were killed, fighting gallantly at the 
Duke of York's side, on board the Royal Charles. The King 
alludes to the death of the former, in the letter which he 
hastened to send his sister. 

" Whithall, 

''ZJune 1665. 

" I thanke God we have now the certayne newes of a very 
considerable victory over the Duch ; you will see most of the 
particulars by the relation my Lord Hollis will shew you, 



2l6 MAUAME'S JOY. 

though I have had as great a losse as 'tis possible in a good 
frinde, poore C. Barckely. It troubles me so much, as I hope 
you will excuse the shortnesse of this letter, haveing receaved 
the newes of it, but two houers agoe. This great successe does 
not at all change my inclinations towards France, which you 
may assure the K., my brother, from me, and that it shall be 
his faute if we be not very good frindes. There is one come 
from Dunkerke, who says that there were bonefires made on 
sonday last for the great victory the Duch had over the 
English. Methinks Mon"" de Mourpeth might have had a 
little patience, and then it may his rejoiceing might have been 
on our side ; pray lett me know the meaning of this. My 
head does so ake, as I can only add that I am entierly Yours. 

" C. R." 

Madame's joy was unbounded on receiving this good 
news. Even Monsieur was stirred, and wrote a warm note of 
congratulation to his royal brother-in-law on the 19th of June. 

" Never before," he says, " have I felt how deeply your 
Majesty's affairs concern me, as in these three last days, 
during which we have been in mortal anxiety as to the re- 
sults of the battle which has taken place. Since the opening 
of the war has been so fortunate, we need have no fear as to 
its ultimate issue. The good news only reached us this 
evening, so I hasten to express my joy to you, and at the 
same time my satisfaction at hearing that M. le Due d'York 
is safe. I will say no more at present, but that if my wishes 
are fulfilled. Your Majesty will enjoy every kind of prosperity." 

As soon as Madame was able to put pen to paper, she 
wrote the following joyful letter to her brother, one of the 
longest that we have from her hand. 



'b^ 



" De Saint-Germain, 
''22 /ui'/i 1665. 

" We cannot delay any longer, Monsieur and I, to send 
you this gentleman to congratulate you on your victory, and 
although I know you will easily believe my joy, I must tell 
you how much it has been increased, owing to the repeated 
frights we had received from the false reports of the merchants, 
who all wish the Dutch well. ]Jut, on the other hand, ihc 



madame's letter. 217 

whole Court atid all the nobility appear most anxious to show 
that your interests are as dear to them as those of their own 
King. Never has such a crowd been seen here, as Monsieur 
and I have had to congratulate us on this occasion ! And in- 
deed you should be grateful to Monsieur for the interest 
which he has taken in the whole thing, and for the way in 
which he stands up for all that concerns you. The Comte de 
Gramont was the first to bring us the news yesterday. We 
were at mass, and there was quite a sensation. The King 
himself called out to his ministers who were in the tribune: 
' We must rejoice I ' which I must say surprised me not a little, 
for although at the bottom of his heart he wishes you every 
possible success, I did not think he would care to declare this 
in public, owing to his engagements with the Dutch. But I 
hope that the result of this success will be to give you a 
second, by enabling you to bring the war to an end in so 
honourable a way that thirty more such victories would not 
add to your glory. I assure you this is the opinion of all your 
friends here, who are very numerous, and also that of common 
sense, since now you have shown, not only what your power 
is, and how dangerous it is to have you for an enemy, but 
liave also made your subjects see how well you can defend 
their interests and greatness ; you may novv" show the world 
that your true desire is for peace, and triumph by clemency 
as well as by force. For this is what gains hearts, and is no 
less remarkable in its way than the other, besides being a 
surer thing than trusting to the chances of war. And even if 
the result of a long war were certain, you will never be in a 
position to derive more advantage from success than you are 
at present, when you might win over people, who, I can assure 
you, ardently desire your friendship, and are in despair at 
feeling that their word is already pledged. I have spoken 
of this several times, and always find the King most reason- 
able, and since I do not think your feelings have changed, I 
have good hopes of such a result as your best friends would 
desire. But if I am so strongly on the side of peace, do not 
think that it is from a sense of fear, as is the case with most 
women. I can assure you I only desire your good, and since 
you have nothing more to win by force, you must seek glory in 



2l8 THE PLAGUE. 

another wa.y, and try to secure friends, of whom none can be 
more important than the King, without entering on a perpetual 
war of chicanery. This is what I most passionately desire. 

" I cannot end without expressing my sorrow at the death 
of poor Lord Falmouth, whom I regret as much for the sake 
of the friendship you felt for him, and which he so justly de- 
served, as for his goodness to me. Indeed, I had to weep 
with all my heart for him, on the very day when the news 
of your victory gave me the greatest joy. I can assure you, 
by what I knew of his sentiments, he would have been of my 
mind as to peace, and now that your honour is satisfied, this 
must be the right step to take. If I dared, I would recom- 
mend the elder Hamilton to you, and you could not give the 
Privy Purse to anyone who deserves it better. I hope you 
will tell him that I have recommended him to you. His 
sister (the Comtesse de Gramont) begged me to do this, and 
is really one of the best women I ever knew in my life. As 
for the Comte de Gramont he is the most English of men, and 
shows this every day in a' thousand ways. He was mad with 
joy when the news came. This letter is too long by half. I 
beg your pardon, but indeed I am so happy, I hardly know 
what I am about, and I could not help telling you, not only 
all I have heard, but all I think of as to the future conse- 
quences which are likely to spring out of these events." 

The rejoicings over the victory in London were damped by 
the rapid spread of the plague, which attacked the city with 
such violence that summer. By the end of June, people were 
already dying by thousands. The Court moved to Hampton 
Court and the French Ambassadors, after declaring that the 
London fog suffocated them, were terror-stricken at the ap- 
proach of a worse foe. They moved to " Kinstaun " (Kingston), 
but even here they were not safe, as the chief of the A/;^- 
bassade GVis)^/'^ himself wrote home: " Yesterday I — the Due 
de Verneuil — while taking my daily walk along the road, 
found the body of a man who had died of the plague." Their 
next move was to Salisbury, where they were much impressed 
at the sight of the very fine church, in the hands of the Pro- 
testants, with as many pillars as hours, as many windows as 



THE PLAGUE. 219 

days, as many gates as months in the year. But here again 
the plague followed them. First one of the King's servants 
fell ill, then a man dropped down dead not two hundred paces 
from their door. " A bad habit," wrote Courtin " which is, I 
fear, beginning to spread." Madame de Sable, a great vale- 
tudinarian herself, sent the Ambassadors disinfectants, but 
even the use of these could not allay their terror, and when 
they heard that the number of the dead in London had 
reached eight thousand two hundred and fifty-two persons 
during the first week of September, they begged earnestly to 
be allowed to return home. 

Early in July, the Queen-mother left London, the King 
accompanying her on her journey down the mouth of the 
Thames. She had long been suffering from a bad cough, and 
had wasted away so rapidly that her doctors pronounced a 
journey to France to be the only hope of saving her life. 
She arrived in Paris to find that her daughter had been 
prematurely delivered of a still-born babe, a few days before, 
at Versailles. " Madame," wrote Hollis, " had gone to Versailles 
with the King, to divert thcm.sclvcs for a day or two, and on 
Thursday morning was surprised, for she fell in labour and 
was delivered of a daughter who is dead, but the God be 
praised, very well." And a few days later he wrote that the 
Queen-mother was daily expected at Versailles, and that 
Madame was very well and " longing for her coming.'' The 
event had taken everyone by surprise. The King was 
awakened in the middle of the night, and the cure of Ver- 
sailles was hastily summoned. By the King's order the child 
was buried privately at Saint-Denis, and the Queen Marie 
Th^rese, Mademoiselle informs us, was much concerned that 
she had not first insisted on the baptism of the lifeless infant. 

As soon as his wife was out of danger. Monsieur accom- 
panied the Court to Saint-Germain, and Henrietta Maria re- 
mained at the bedside of her dearly-loved daughter. By the 
end of three weeks, Madame had sufficiently recovered to 
accompany her mother to Colombes, where she remained till 
the end of August, when Henrietta Maria went to drink the 
waters of Bourbon. 

" Madame is perfectly recovered," wrote Lord St. Albans, 



220 LETTER OF CHARLES IL 

who had accompanied his royal mistress to France, " and is a 
most excellent person ; very beautiful, full of wit and infinitely 
considered in this Court." 

All the while she kept up a brisk correspondence with her 
brother, and left no stone unturned to conclude the treaty of 
alliance between the two Kings, which she so earnestly wished 
for. A long letter which she wrote from her bed, on the 5th 
of July, is missing, but Charles II.'s reply gives a full account 
of the situation. He sets forth his own motives and con- 
duct plainly, and makes no secret of his vexation at the 
continual delays and temporising policy of his brother of 
France. A breach between the two countries, he foresees, is 
imminent, and his only concern is for Madame herself, whose 
difficult position he realises perfectly, and whom he compas- 
sionates with more than his usual affection. The letter, it 
must be owned, does credit both to the head and heart of this 
much-reviled monarch. 

" Hamtoncourt, 

" -i-^Jiily 1665. 

" My going with the Oueene as farr as the mouth of the 
river, the businesse I mett with there about the fleete, my 
hasty returne hither, and the dayly trouble I have had with 
neighbours' collations and the Irish Bill, is the reason you 
have not heard from me in answer to so many letters, and to 
congratulate your health after such a misfortune toyour childe. 
But now at last I have sett my selfe downe to give you a full 
answer to your letter of the 5th, which indeede requires it, and 
I should be wanting to the care and concernement I have for 
you, if I should not cleerely lett you know my minde, in the 
negotiation now depending heere with France, that you may 
governe your selfe accordingly. You remember very well the 
severall and pressing advances I made by you, the last yeare, 
afterwards by Ch. Berkely, and at last by Ruvigny, for the 
perfecting our treaty and entring into a strickter alliance with 
france then ever, which were all in appearance so well accepted, 
that I may truly say I lost many oportunityes of strengthen- 
ing my selfe with other aliances abroade, to be in a state of 
embracing that, which, upon the comming of the Ambassadores, 



LETTER OF CHARLES U. 22 1 

I looked would have been compleated ; instead of which, all 
I have heard from them (after I had accepted there mediation) 
hath been ouvertures towards an agreement with Holland, but 
upon propositions which they who made them to me could not 
but undervalewe, and declaring themselves tide by a treaty to 
helpe the Plollanders, wh : was disowned when the treaty 
was the first made, and now cannot be produced to be appealed 
unto. If this be the true state of the case (as I dare say you 
will agree it to be), where is my faute ? would any body advise 
me to make any advances towards a peace, after all the expense 
I have been at to support the warre, and such a successe in it, 
upon such weake invitations ; it is most certaine, they who 
propose it do not thinkc I ought to agree to it, and slanders 
by say these Ambassadorcs are kept here only till France can 
agree with Holland upon what termes they shall helpe them, 
on which, if they agree, I shall be necessitated to take part 
with Spaine, and to your exception thereunto, lett me minde 
you that, according to the course of the World, those are better 
frinds who see they have neede of us, then whose prosperity 
makes them think we have neede of them ; and \vhatever be 
my fortune in this, I should runne it cheerfully, if my con- 
cernement for you did not perplex me, who I know will have a 
hard part to play, (as you say) betweene your brother and 
brother-in-Law, and yctt methinkes it is to early to dispaire of 
seeing all thinges well agreed betwixt us, and though that 
should not happen so quickly, it must be your part to keepe 
your selfe still in a state of contributing thereunto, and haveing 
a most principle part therein, which will not be a hard taske to 
your discretion and good talent ; and be assured the kindnesse 
I have for you, will in all occasions make me mindfull of what 
I owe you, and of reserving the obliging parts for you, and 
leaveing the contrary for others if there should be any such. 
And this would be enough in answer to your long letter, if 
lookeing it over againe, I did not finde you endeavouring to 
perswade me the King, my brother, is no way guilty towards 
me of censuring my actions, I do verily beleeve it and should 
do so, though I should furnish him occasion for it, that being 
an action infinitely belowe the opinion and caracter I have 
alwayes figured to my selfe of him, which may also serve to 



222 MADAME AND LOUIS XIV. 

assure you these reports have never made any impression in me, 
to the preiudice of our frindship. I will conclude this long 
letter, assuring you the kindnesse and frindship I have for you 
is as entire as ever, and that no alteration or change in my 
affaires shall make any in that. • C. R." 

At the same time Courtin wrote home that the King of 
England felt sure that Madame had misunderstood Louis 
XIV. She had, it appears, told her brother that the King of 
France was under the impression that his Majesty could not 
enter into any treaty without the sanction of Parliament, a 
mistake which Charles begged him to correct. 

The Queen-mother, Henrietta Maria, now joined her efforts 
to those of Madame, and did her utmost to prevent a breach 
of the peace between France and England. HoUis reports 
how he paid a visit to Colombes on the 22d of August, and 
met the King of France there. 

" I was yesterday at Colombes, to take my leave of the 
Queen-mother, before her departure for Bourbon. The King 
of France came to Colombes, whilst I was in her presence. At 
last he thought proper to notice me, and gave me a little 
salute with his head, and truly, my lord, I answered him with 
just such another, because I knew his ambassadors in England 
are welcomed in different style. I did before him entertain 
myself all the while with the Prince de Cond^, who is very 
affectionate in all that concerns his Majesty, but this by the 
way. Soon after, the King of France and the Queen-mother 
went alone into her bed-chamber, and our Princess, Madame, 
went in, after they had been there at least an hour. When 
the King of France went away, I had an interview with the 
Queen -mother afterwards, and took the boldness to ask her 
how she found things. She said, they had been all the time 
within talking over these businesses of Holland, and that 
Louis XIV. told her he had made King Charles some proposi- 
tions, which were very fair ones, which, if he refused, he must 
take part with the Hollanders. The next morning, though 
pouring with wet, the Queen-mother set off towards the baths 
of Bourbon." 

The tone of this letter shows us that the Ambassador was 



LORD HOLLIS. 223 

still as inuictilious and ready to take offence as ever. A little 
later, his dignity was grievously offended by an insult offered 
liim by the servants of the Princesse de Carignan, who, armed 
with clubs, stopped his coach on its way to the Louvre, and 
followed Madame's carriage to the palace gate. This revival 
of the old quarrel for precedence roused the fiery spirit of the 
stern old Puritan, and Henrietta tried in vain to appease his 
anger. He refused to accept the apologies that were offered 
him, and became absolutely intractable. It was impossible to 
make further use of him, but negotiations were still carried on 
that autumn by the Queen-mother and Madame, although 
Charles himself now saw plainly that war was inevitable. 
Two short letters which he wrote to his sister, while the Court 
was at Salisbury, are all we have of his correspondence during 
the remainder of 1665. 

" Salsbury, 

" 5 Aug. 1665. 

" I hope you will pardon my long silence, which I should 
not have been guilty of if I had stay'd long enough in one 
])lacc to have writt to you since my coming from Hamton- 
court, butt I have been at Portsmouth about the fortifications 
there, and went thence to the He of Wight, which place I had 
never seen before, in order to the putting that Hand in a good 
posture. I hope the french Ambassadores are well satisfied 
with the answer I gave them upon what they proposed con- 
cerning the businesse with Holland. I have not had time to 
desire you to returne my thankes to the King of France for 
the kinde expressions he made me by G. Porter, and I assure 
you it shall be his faute if ever there be the least dispute be- 
tweene us. I have been a hunting all this day, and am so sleepy 
as I hope you will pardon the shortnesse of this, but you shall 
now heare constantly from me. C. R." 

" Salsbury, 

"9 Sep. 1665. 

" I finde by yours of the 1 1 of Sep. that you are very much 

alarumed with the retreate of the fleete to Soule bay, but when 

you shall know that the fleete had no other businesse there but 

to take in some drinke, and to ioyne with twenty fresh ships 



224 THE PLAGUE. 

(whereof the Soverine is one), and stayd but seven dayes there. 
It will in some degree satisfie those able seamen at Paris, who 
iudge so sudenly of our want of conduct in Naval! matters, 
and in all neweses il faiU attendre le boiteux. I am confident 
my L"* Sandwich is some dayes before this, betweene the duch 
fleete and home, with a better flecte then that which beate 
them last time, and, if God will permitt it, I do not dout to 
send you a good account and conclusion of this sumers cam- 
paigne. I have been troubled these few dayes past with a 
coUique, but I thanke God I am now perfectly well againe. 
It hath been almost a general disease in this place. I am 
goeing to make a little turne into dorset sheere for 8 or 9 
dayes to passe away the time till I go to Oxford, beleeving 
that this place was the cause of my indisposition. I am very 
glad that Queene-mother is so well of her brest. Pray make 
my compliments to her upon it. I do confesse myselfe very 
fauty in my faileing so many weekes. I will repaire my faute 
for the time to come, but the truth is I have been some what 
indisposed ever since my being heere, and consequently out of 
humour, but I beg of you to be assured that what failings 
soever I may have, nothing can ever change me in the least 
degree of that frindship and kindnesse I have for you. Pray 
returne my compliments to Monsieur, with all imaginable 
kindnesse. C. R." 

The violence of the plague was now abating, and by 
November, people began to return to town. In October, the 
Parliament met at Oxford, and the French proposals were 
finally rejected. Arlington gave the Ambassadors a note to 
this effect, on the 8th of November, and in December they 
started on their return journey. The death of Philip IV. of 
Spain, on the 17th of September, threatened to produce fresh 
complications, but for the moment Louis XIV. contented 
himself with advancing a formal claim to the sovereignty of 
Flanders, in his wife's name, while he pressed on warlike pre- 
parations with renewed vigour. The actual outbreak of 
hostilities was delayed by Anne of Austria's critical state of 
health, and by the earnestness with which she implored her 
son to avert the horrors of war. She lingered all through the 



DEATH OF ANNE OF AUSTRIA. 22$ 

summer and autumn, and was able to be moved in a litter 
from Saint-Germain to Paris. 

Both Monsieur and Madame were assiduous in their 
attentions to their dying parent, but during the intervals of 
her attacks, they followed their usual course of amusement. 
In September, they entertained the Court at Villers-Cotterets, 
and Mademoiselle describes the succession of hunting-parties, 
of balls and comedies, with which they amused their guests. 
Christmas and New Year were celebrated with greater splen- 
dour than ever. The fete given by Madame, on the eve of 
the Feast of the Three Kings, excelled all others that winter. 
Queen Marie Therese was absent, owing to her deep mourn- 
ing for her father, but the King appeared in a suit of violet 
\elvet, resplendent with pearls and diamonds, and was re- 
ceived by Monsieur and Madame in the great gallery of the 
Palais-Royal, hung with mirrors, and blazing with torches. 
Moliere's Medecin malgi'i lui was performed that evening, 
between the banquet and the ball with which the evening 
ended. It became the popular play of the winter, and all 
Paris crowded to see it, greatly to the delight of Gui Patin, 
who chuckled over the feelings of the Court doctors when 
they heard the fits of laughter with which the King greeted 
the performance. " So the world laughs at doctors who kill 
folks with impunity." Four days afterwards, the Queen- 
mother became suddenly worse, and all hope of her recovery 
was abandoned. She received the last sacraments, and took- 
a tender farewell of her children. She saw the King and 
Queen, Monsieur and Madame, each separately, and spoke 
to each of them in turn with the freedom of a dying woman. 
In these last days, her old affection for Madame revived. She 
left her the crucifix which she held in her last agony, 
besides many of her most valuable jewels, and settled the 
greater part of her fortune on her grand-daughter, the little 
Mademoiselle. On the night of the 20th of January she 
passed away, and the tolling of the great bell of Notre-Dame 
announced the news of her death. Monsieur, who had hardly 
left his mother's bedside, was the only member of her family 
present at the last, and was so deeply distressed that he re- 
fused to hear her will read, and retired at once with Madame to 

P 



226 WAR WITH ENGLAND. 

Saint-Cloud. Shortly afterwards the King and Queen went 
to Versailles, leaving Mademoiselle to pay the last honours 
to her aunt's remains. " So these royalties," remarks Gui 
Patin, " practise the Gospel precept : ' Let the dead bury 
their dead.' " 

The heart of the dead Queen was borne to her own 
Abbey of Val-de-Grace, and her body was laid to rest in the 
royal vaults at Saint-Denis. Stately funeral services were held 
in both churches, and at Notre-Dame, where the royal family 
assisted, and Madame figured as chief mourner, wearing a 
train seven yards long. 

Hardly had Anne of Austria breathed her last, than war 
was declared against England. On the 26th of January the 
Ambassadors received an intimation to this effect, and on the 
following day the official proclamation was publicly read 
with a great flourish of trumpets. Mollis, however, remained 
in Paris three months longer, and attempts at mediation 
were still carried on at intervals, by the Queen-mother and 
Madame. On the 15th of January, Henrietta wrote to her 
brother from Paris as follows : — 

" Paris, 
" \^ Janvier 1665. 

" Monsieur has sent you a long letter, with a last attempt 
at rnediation. As for me, I confess that I do not care to 
attempt what is useless, so that I only pray God to guide you 
in all your actions to do what is best. After this, I must tell 
you that the Queen, my mother-in-law, is very ill. Her fever 
has increased very much during the last week, and the doctors 
are greatly alarmed. A curious adventure has just happened 
here. La Feuillade and the Chevalier de Clermont fought on 
the Pont-Neuf, because the latter accused the other of speak- 
ing ill of him to the King and Monsieur, saying that he had 
cheated the Mar<5chal de Gramont at play. As a matter of 
fact. La P'euillade had defended him against others who 
said this, which makes people think there must be more than 
we know of behind thiis. Clermont, being the instigator, has 
been banished as guilty of duelling, and the other is safe, 
because witnesses say that he only defended himself. As a 



WAR WITH ENGLAND. 227 

matter of fact, one is a fool who has ruined himself by 
gambling, and the other may think himself very fortunate. 
My Lord St. Albans will be sorry for the sake of our friend, 
M. I'Abb^ de Clermont, brother of the Chevalier, who is in 
despair, and with good reason. This is all your humble 
servant has to say." 

Charles replied to this letter, as well as to Monsieur's 
friendly attempt at intervention, in the following terms : — 

" Hamtoncourt, 
" i<^ Jan. 1666. 

" I did intend to have answered last weeke yours and 
Monsieur's letters, upon the subject of doing good offices 
betweene me and France, but that I found, by the letter the 
Queene writt me of a later date, that mediations of that kinde 
were not sesonable at this time, France being resolved to 
declare for Holland, so that I only write now to Monsieur a 
letter of condolance upon the death of Queene-mother, which 
I sure you, gave me an equall share in the losse. I have been 
two dayes in this place, and do intend for to go to Whithall 
this weeke, for to dispatch all my preparations against the 
spring, which are allready in very good forwardnesse. We 
had some kinde of an alarum, that the troopes which Mon"" de 
Turene went to reviewe, were intended to make us a visite 
heere, but we shall be very ready to bid them welcome, either 
by sea or land. I have left my wife at Oxford, but hope that 
in a fortnight or three weekcs to send for her to London, 
where already the Plague is in effect nothing. But our 
wemen are afraide of the name of Plague, so that they must 
have a little time to fancy all cleere, I cannot tell what kind 
of correspondence we mu.st keep with letters, now that France 
declares war with us ; you must derect me in it, and I shall 
observe what you iudge convenient for 3'^ou, but nothing can 
make me lessen in the least degree, of that kindnesse I 
alwayes have had for you, which I assure you is so rooted in 
my hart, as it will continue to the last moment of my life. 

" C. R." 

This was followed by another affectionate little note, 



2 28 COURT SERMONS. 

prompted by the King's concern for his sister's health, which 
again gave cause for anxiety. After this, we have a long 
interval, during which, as Charles feared, the pleasant inter- 
change of letters between the two was suspended by the war, 
and it was only on very rare occasions that a safe messenger 
could be found. 

"Whithall, 
'' Last of Feb. 1666. 

" I was in great paine to heare of the fall you had, least it 
might have done you prejudice, in the condition you are in, 
but I was as glad to finde by your letter, that it had done you 
no harm. VVe have the same disease of Sermons that you 
complaine of there, but I hope you have the same convenience 
that the rest of the family has, of sleeping out most of the 
time, which is a great ease to those who are bounde to heare 
them, I have little to trouble you with this post, only to tell 
you that I am now very busy every day in prepareing busi- 
nesse for the Parlament that meetes a fortenight hence. Mr 
Mountagu has had the sciatique, but is now pretty well. I 
thanke you for the care you ha\e taken of the snuffe, at the 
same time pray send me some wax to seale letters, that has 
gold in it, the same you seald your letters with before you 
were in mourning, for there is none to be gott in this towne, I 
am entierly Yours. C. R." 

The epidemic of sermons, which had lately set in with 
fresh severity, was the course preached before the Court, on 
week-days in Lent, in the chapel of Saint-Germain. The 
rules of Court etiquette required Madame's presence, and 
besides hearing these sermons, she had to listen to all the long- 
funeral orations, which were delivered during the same month, 
in honour of the Queen-mother. But there was one preacher 
who occupied the pulpit of Saint-Germain, during the Sundays 
in Lent, of whose eloquence Madame never wearied. This 
was Bossuet, the newly-appointed Dean of Metz. He had 
preached an Advent course at the Louvre in December 1665, 
at which Madame had been present, and the deep impression 
then made upon her is recorded, by the Court gazetteer, in a 



KOSSUET. 229 

letter which he addressed to her on the subject. From this 
time, that friendship between Madame and Bossuet began, 
which was destined to exert so marked an influence on her 
character during the last years of her life, and to become 
memorable by the sublime oration which the great Bishop 
was to pronounce over her grave. 



CHAPTER XVI I 

1666 

The Chevalier de Lorraine becomes Monsievir's Favourite — Excellent Influence of 
Cosnac, Bishop of Valence — Libel of Manicamp — Copies destroyed by the 
Bishop — His Admiration for Madame, and Character of this Princess in his 
Memoirs — Peace of Breda. 

The Queen-mother's death that winter caused but a brief lull 
in the Court festivities. The return of the Carnival season 
became the signal for the revival of gaieties, and Moliere's 
Amour Mt^decin was acted at Saint-Germain, before the King. 
After Easter, hunting - parties and masques began again. 
Expeditions to Versailles were planned, in which the King 
was accompanied by a few of his favourites, and " the God of 
Love,'' the Court chronicler observes significantly, " never 
failed to be of the party." With the death of his mother, 
Louis had thrown aside the last pretence at concealment. 
The son whom La Valliere had borne him, two years before, 
was brought up at the Tuileries, and treated with royal hon- 
ours, and the deputations from the Parliament and Courts of 
Law, who came to Saint-Germain, to present their condolences 
on the Queen-mother's death, were ainazed to see the King's 
mistress present among the ladies in attendance on the Queen. 
Marie Th6rese resented this bitterly, but her tears failed to 
move the King, who had listened with such remorse to his 
mother's dying exhortations, and when Madame, in compas- 
sion for her sister-in-law, ventured to take her part, she only 
drew the King's displeasure upon herself 

" The Queen of France," writes an English correspondent, 
a few months later, "perceiving Mademoiselle de la Valliere 
big with child, hath forbid her to a[)peare before her any 
more, and disgraced some of her ladyesof honour, who deluded 

2^0 



DANIEL DE COSNAC. 231 

her Majestic, that there was nothing but a meere frindship 
betweene the King and her. The King is much irritated 
against Madame." 

Fortunately for Henrietta, this coldness on her brother-in- 
law's part soon disappeared, but she had too many causes of 
trouble in her own home to remain long at peace. Already 
the Chevalier de Lorraine, a younger brother of M. d'Armag- 
nac, the Grand Ecuyer, had won Monsieur's affection, and 
began to acquire that influence over him which was to prove 
so fatal to Madame's happiness. This worthless man, who 
had nothing to recommend him but his cherub face, and who 
had long carried on a scandalous intrigue with Madame's 
maid-of-honour, Mademoiselle de Fiennes, had, by degrees, 
gained an absolute mastery over Monsieur's mind, and 
governed him and his whole household. But, for a time, this 
evil influence was kept in check by the presence of another 
and a better friend. This was Daniel de Cosnac, Bishop of 
Valence. A man of great talent and ambition, this prelate 
was as much distinguished by his restless activity as by the 
independence and honesty of his character. Madame de 
Sevign6, who knew him well, and valued his friendship highly, 
describes him as a person full of great thoughts, but so frank 
of speech, and so hot of temper that, in conversation with 
him, it is necessary to be as cautious as when you are driv- 
ing a shying horse. This fiery spirit often interfered with 
Cosnac's advancement, but, although little of a courtier, "■ ce 
fou d'^vcqiie,' as Voltaire calls him, was the truest and most 
loyal of servants. In his youth he had played an active part 
in the Fronde, and had exerted great influence over the Prince 
de Conti, to whose household he belonged, but, on his master's 
marriage, he embraced a new career, and became Bishop of 
Valence. During the next four years he devoted himself 
with admirable zeal to his nev/ duties, and although, as Grand 
Almoner to Monsieur, he officiated at his marriage, the new 
Bishop was seldom seen at Court. But his restless spirit 
thirsted for the more stirring scenes of his old life, and when 
he was summoned to Paris in 1665 to attend a General 
Assembly of the Clergy, an unexpected opportunity of ac- 
quiring influence at Court presented itself On the death of 



233 LIJ5EL OF MANICAMP. 

the Oucen-mother, to whose regard he owed his post in her 
son's household, the Bishop followed Monsieur to Saint-Cloud, 
as in duty bound, to offer his condolences. He found 
Monsieur genuinely distressed at his mother's loss, and, full of 
good intentions, determined, in fact, to lead a nobler and 
more useful life. Cosnac was not slow to seize his oppor- 
tunity. Up to this time, Monsieur's weak and frivolous char- 
acter had only inspired him with contempt. Now, it seemed 
to him, a change for the better had come over him, and he 
resolved to use all his influence to make him reform his ways. 
For the moment, Monsieur was delighted with his new 
adviser. He con.sulted him on all occasions, and followed 
his instructions carefully. This change in his habits was 
generally noticed. " Monsieur le Due d'Orleans," wrote Gui 
Patin, " is learning mathematics, and people say he is to com- 
mand the army in the coming campaign." Acting under 
Cosnac's advice, he asked the King to give him the govern- 
ment of Languedoc, which had become vacant by the Prince 
de Conti's death in February. This Louis XIV. refused, 
determined, as he had always been, never to put power into 
his brother's hands, and Monsieur retired in a very bad 
humour to Villers-Cotterets. Cosnac, however, soon induced 
him to return to Court. He advised him to cultivate the 
King's good graces carefully, and to avail himself for this pur- 
pose of Madame's influence with Louis XIV. For a while 
the plan worked admirably. The King treated his brother 
with marked kindness, and admitted him to the Royal 
Councils. Monsieur lived on better terms with his wife, and 
was well pleased with Cosnac, with himself, and every one. 

About the same time, the Bishop was able to render 
Madame a service which she never afterwards forgot. A 
copy of a pamphlet, called Les Aviours du Palais Royal, 
printed in Holland, professing to give a true version of the 
loves of Madame and the Comte de Guiche, was brought to 
the King by his minister, Louvois. Louis privately showed it 
to Madame, and warned her to keep it from her husband's 
eyes. The libel, as has been already mentioned, was the 
work of Manicamp, a friend of the Comte de Guiche, and its 
contents were of a very harmless nature. But many of the 



COSNAC'S DEVOTION. 233 

details were evidently the result of personal observation, and 
this air of reality may well have excited Madame's alarm. 
In her fear lest the pamphlet should fall into Monsieur's 
hands, she sought the aid of Cosnac, as the ablest and most 
trustworthy of Monsieur's servants. The Bishop rose to the 
emergency at once. Without a moment's delay, he sent a 
confidential agent to Holland, a son of the doctor, Gui Patin, 
who bought up the whole edition of 1 800 copies and obtained 
an order from the States, prohibiting the further publication of 
the pamphlet. These copies were delivered to Monsieur's 
faithful valet, M6rille, who burnt them in Madame's presence. 
The original MS., however, seems to have escaped destruction, 
since, a hundred years later, the libel was published in an 
edition of Bussy-Rabutin's Histoire Amoureuse des Gaules. 
Bussy has, accordingly, been frequently taxed with the author- 
ship, an act of ingratitude of which he deserves to be ac- 
quitted. Monsieur, after his habit, not only declined to 
defray the heavy expenses which had been incurred by 
Cosnac on this occasion, but availed himself of the zeal that 
he had shown in Madame's service, to borrow further sums. 
" The whole affair," remarks the Bishop, " cost me a great 
deal of trouble and money, but, far from regretting this, I was 
only too well paid by the thanks which Madame bestowed 
upon me." 

Soon afterwards, the Bishop left Court to attend to the 
affairs of his distant diocese. But he had made himself in- 
dispensable to Monsieur, who urged him to return to him as 
early as possible. And he took with him a deep, lasting 
impression of Madame's charm and greatness of soul. She 
had won his heart, after her usual habit, and from this time, 
the proud and impetuous prelate was her most devoted 
servant. Her figure plays a prominent part in the Memoirs 
which he compiled in exile, shortly after her death, and to 
their pages we owe some of the most interesting glimpses 
that we possess of Madame, at this period of her life. His 
narrative forms a valuable supplement to Madame de La 
Fayette's volume. The author of Za'ide is always cautious 
and guarded in her expressions, careful, as becomes a Court 
lady, not to lift the veil which shrouds the domestic life of 



234 madame's character. 

these royal persons, or to show us Monsieur in his true 
colours. Cosnac, bishop and priest though he be, has no 
such delicacy. He ignores rank, and has little or no respect 
of persons. The true qualities of the different personages, 
with whom he is brought into contact, are brought out vividl}-. 
The King's imperious will and impatience of contradiction, 
the force of character which impressed even men like Cosnac, 
who did not enjoy his favour ; Monsieur's absurd love of 
trivialities, his ignorance and fickleness, are clearly revealed. 
Above all, he has given us the best portrait that we have of 
Madame's person and character, and the fullest and most 
accurate account of her death. When the news of that 
lamentable event reached him in his banishment, he was over- 
whelmed with grief, and by way of consolation he took up 
his pen and tried to draw a faithful picture of the lamented 
Princess whose image was still present to his mind. 

" Madame," he wrote, " had a clear and strong intellect 
She was full of good sense, and was gifted with fine percep- 
tion. Her soul was great and just. She always knew what 
she ought to do, but did not always act up to her convictions 
either from natural indolence, or else from a certain contempt 
for ordinary duties, which formed part of her character. Her 
whole conversation was filled with a sweetness which made 
her unlike all other royal personages. It was not that she had 
less majesty, but she was simpler and touched you more easily, 
for, in spite of her divine qualities, she was the most human 
creature in the world. She seemed to lay hold of all hearts, 
instead of treating them as common property, and this 
naturally gave rise to the mistaken belief that she wished to 
please people of all kinds, without distinction. As for the 
features of her countenance, they were exquisite. Her eyes were 
bright without being fierce, her mouth was admirable, her nose 
perfect, a very rare thing ! since Nature, unlike Art, does its 
best in eyes, and its worst in noses ! Her complexion was 
white and clear beyond words, her figure slight and of middle 
height. The grace of her soul seemed to animate her whole 
being, down to the tips of her feet, and made her dance better 
than any woman I ever saw. As for the inexpressible charm 
which, strange to say, is so often given to persons of iw posi- 



WAR WITH ENGLAND. 23$ 

tion, ' ce jc nc sais qjioi,' which goes straight to all hearts, I have 
often heard critics say that in Madame alone this gift was 
original, and that others only tried to copy her. In short, 
everyone who approached her agreed in this, that she was the 
most perfect of women." The shrewd, calculating man of the 
world becomes eloquent as he recalls the infinite grace, the 
sweetness and gentleness, which made this brilliant Prin- 
cess the most human, the most lovable of women. But, as 
he goes on, the memory of all that he has lost becomes 
too much for him. He breaks off abruptly, and ends with 
the words : — " I have no more to say of this Princess, but that 
she was the glory and honour of her age, and that this age 
would have adored her, had it been worthy of her." 

When Cosnac came to Madame's help in this serious matter, 
the Court had already moved to Fontainebleau for the 
summer. Warlike preparations absorbed the King's atten- 
tion. A camp was formed at Fontainebleau, where Lauzun 
figured, to Mademoiselle's admiration, at the head of the royal 
dragoons, and the Court ladies accompanied the King to 
reviews at Compiegnc and Vincennes. Louvois and Turenne 
were both of them busy in raising fresh bodies of troops. 
But there was a general impression abroad that these forces 
were not intended to invade England. A detachment of 
French troops was sent indeed into Holland to oppose the 
advance of Charles H.'s ally, the Prince-Bishop of Munster, 
and the French fleet, under the Due de Beaufort, was 
ordered to join De Ruyter's navy. But before they met the 
English fleet, a violent tempest scattered the French ships 
and forced them to take shelter in the port of Brest. In Eng- 
land the national hatred of France was fairly roused. " The 
English," said Gui Patin, " I hear no longer dress a la Ffan- 
cms, but a rEspagnol and (i la Moscovite, not that, so far as I 
can see, this will hurt us much." And Sir George Savile, from 
the quiet shades of his home in Sherwood Forest, wrote in his 
usual witty strain to Sir William Temple, His Majesty's Min- 
ister at the Hague : — " His Majesty of France doth not declare 
war like ' un Iwnnete Jioviuie', therefore I hope he will not 
pursue it like a wise one. I do not despair but that the 
English, who used to go into France for their breeding 



236 NAVAL WAR, 

may for once have the honour to teach them better manners. 
In the meantime, we have great alarm the Monsteurs will invade 
us, which makes everybody prepare for their entertainment, 
and I hope they will neither find us so little ready, or perhaps so 
divided as they expect. Your Bishop is, I fear, likely to be over- 
matched, so we must rely on the oak and courage of England 
to do our business." For the present the oak and courage of 
England, had enough to do, to hold their own against the 
Dutch, and several fiercely-contested battles between the rival 
fleets took place at sea in the course of the summer. The 
honours of war, however, remained with the English, who 
were led by Prince Rupert and the Duke of Albemarle. 
Meanwhile, at the Queen-mother's request, negotiations were 
resumed between Louis XIV. and Lord Hollis, who still re- 
mained in France. The death of his wife at Paris, in January, 
had left the Ambassador " a sorrowful man," and had " added 
much to the desire he felt to be gone." Before the end of 
March his baggage had been all packed and sent on board 
the boat, and he himself was living in two hired rooms, suffer- 
ing, moreover, acutely from the gout in his feet. But still, at 
Madame's urgent entreaty, he lingered on, and lent a reluctant 
ear to the fresh proposals for peace which were made at 
Henrietta Maria's suggestion. But these proposals were by no 
means acceptable to Charles, as he intimates in a letter, which 
he sent to Madame by an equerry who was buying horses for 
her in England. 

"Whithall, 

"2 May 1666. 

" There are few occasions could be unwelcome to me, when 
they give you a pretence to make me happy with a letter from 
you, I do assure you that, if there were no other reason but 
this constraint which is upon our commerce of letters, I should 
use all my endeavours to have a good inteligence betweene 
me and France, but I do feare very much that the desire to 
peace is not wished for there, as it is on my part, for else my 
L'^ Hollis would not have been stoped so long to so little 
purpose, there being lesse proposed at the conference then I 
refused last yearc, which certainly does not shew any great 



LETTER OF CHARLES 11. 237 

inclination to an agreement, but rather to amuse me, and 
certainly they must thinke me in a very ill condition to accept 
of such propositions as were offred to my L^ Mollis, in which 
I beleeve they will finde themselves mistaken ; however, I shall 
alwaies be very ready to harken to peace, as a good Christian 
ought to do, which is all I can do to advance it, for I have 
long since had to ill lucke with the advances I made to that 
end, as I can now only wish for peace, and leave the rest to 
God. I am goeing to-morrow to see the fleete, which will be 
ready very speedily, and I do assure you, tis much better in 
all respects then it was the last yeare, and the great want the 
Hollanders have of seamen, we are in no danger of, for we 
have more and better seamen then we had the last yeare. I 
will be very carefuU of the choice of your horses, my L^ Crafts 
(Crofts) has promised me two, which he assures me will fitt 
you, and I will looke out for others, when I can light upon 
them, for if I had had any good of my owne, you should not 
have stayd so long but the plague of horses has been in 
my stable, and I shall have much ado to mounte my selfe with 
so much as jades for this summer's hunting, the scarsity of 
good ones is so great at this present. I will say no more, but 
only to assure you that nothing can alter that passion and 
tendernesse I have for you, and to beg of you that you will 
continue your kindnesse to me, for I am truly Yours. 

"C. R." 

After that there is another gap in the correspondence, and 
we find no mention of the Great Fire of London, which took 
place that September. On the i8th of October, however, 
Charles again resumes his pen. This time. Lord St. Albans, 
after repeated consultations with Henrietta Maria and Madame 
at Colombes, had been sent to London, to renew negotiations. 
The Dutch, aware of the King of England's want of money, 
refused to agree to an armistice, so Louis determined to come 
to a private agreement with Charles. 

" Whithall, 

18 Oct. 1666. 

"It seemes to me by that which my Lord St. Albans sayes 
to me, that this commerce may at present begin againe, and 



238 PEACE OF BREDA. 

continue, even till the next campaigne ; it was a great dis- 
pleasure to me, to finde it forbidden, and by so much the 
more, that as I do not thinke this to be an eternall warr, I 
should be very glad that you should have part in all the 
thinges that may conduce to the ending of it. I was likewise 
very glad to learne that the King, my brother, makes pro- 
fessions still of haveing as just a sence in this subject as I 
have, that is to say, beleeveing it nether good for him, nor for 
me, and desireing an end of it, as much as I do ; but allowe 
me to tell you that in this occasion 'tis not enough to speak 
in general! termes, espetially after haveing given so much 
place to doute of his intentions, to reestablish the trust, it 
were very good to speake more particulally what that shall 
be. You may assure your selfe I shall corresponde on my 
side as farr as reason ought to guide me ; this is all I shall 
trouble you with at present, only to tell you the ioye I have 
to assure you my selfe with how much tendcrnesse and kind- 
nesse I am yours. C. R." 

Communications were now carried on between the two 
Kings through Queen Henrietta Maria, and in the end a secret 
treaty, signed by both monarchs, was placed in her hands at 
Colombes. By this agreement the islands of the Antilles were 
restored to England, and Charles pledged himself to lend no 
assistance to Spain for the space of a year. A congress was 
summoned to meet at Breda in the spring, and the Dutch 
agreed to send commissioners to settle the terms of peace, 
which had been already secretly arranged between Louis XIV. 
and Charles II. "Peace is signed in reality," wrote the 
French King, on the 8th of May 1667, " and all the plenipo- 
tentiaries who meet at Breda will have to do, is to draw up 
the treaty on paper." Two months later the Peace of Breda 
was signed, between England on the one hand, and France, 
Holland and their ally, Denmark, on the other, and Louis 
XIV. found himself at liberty to pursue the schemes of con- 
quest which had so long floated before his eyes. 



CHAPTER XVIII 
1666— 1668 

Death of the Due dc Valois — Invasion of Flanders — Monsieur joins the Army and 
distinguishes himself in the Field— Illness of Madame — Visit of the Duke 
of Monmouth — Intrigue of Lorraine — Disgrace of the Bishop of Valence. 

Neither war, nor preparations for war, could interrupt the 
festivities of the Grand Monarque's Court in these early 
years of his reign. He himself was never so busy, never so 
much absorbed in conferences with his ministers and generals, 
as not to find time for the brilliant shows with which he loved 
to dazzle the eyes of his subjects. The Court spent the 
autumn and winter at Saint-Germain, where balls and pastoral 
plays followed each other in rapid succession, and the 
splendour and profusion displayed was greater than ever 
before. These fetes were marked by the re-appearance of 
La Valli^re, who had given birth to a daughter, afterwards 
the Princess de Conti, in October, and was still the object 
of the King's devotion. She drew a large diamond at the 
King's lottery, and figured once more in a Court ballet 
which was in preparation that November. Here Madame, 
as usual, was the moving spirit. Suddenly, in the midst of 
the rehearsals, news reached Henrietta of her son's dangerous 
illness. She was passionately fond of the little Duke, a 
singularly handsome and engaging boy of two years old, and 
hastened without delay to Saint-Cloud, where Madame de 
Saint-Chaumont was nursing him with the most devoted 
care. For some time past, the little Prince's health had 
given cause for anxiety, but the present attack was said to be 
brought on by teething. His new teeth, however, came 
through at the end of a few days, and the child recovered. 
Madame brought him to Paris, and since her doctor, M. 

239 



240 ILLNESS OF THE DUG DE VALOIS. 

Esprit, declared himself perfectly satisfied with the little 
Prince's condition, his mother returned, at the end of the 
month, to Saint-Germain. There, on the 2d of Decem- 
ber, the Ballet des Muses was performed. Moli^re's genius 
had again been called into requisition. He composed 
" Le Sicilien " as an interlude, and introduced Turks and 
Moors on the stage, by way of novelty. This time Madame 
appeared as a Shepherdess with her crook, holding her 
favourite little white-and-tan spaniel, Mimi, in her arms, and 
the following verses, written by Benserade, were recited in 
her honour : — 

" Non, je ne pense pas que jamais rien ^gale 
Ces manieres, cet air et ces charmes vainqueurs : 

C'est un Dddale pour tous les ccturs. 
Elle vous prend d'abord, vous entraine, vous tue, 
Vous pille jusqu' a I'ame, et puis, apres cela 

Sans etre dmue, 

Vous laisse \k ! 
Mais la t(5inil:rit(f ddcouvre la ruine. 
Pour la jeune bergdre osant plus qu'il ne faut ; 

Son origine 

Vient de trop haut : 
Qu' i^i tous les respects les plus profounds s'assemblent 
Dans un coeur ; un tel coeur n'en a pas "k demi, 

Tous les loups tremblent 

Devant Mimi." 

Mivii was the pet dog who appears with Madame, in 
several of the portraits painted by Mignard, about this 
period, and who, we are told, by Madame de Sevignt^, was 
so jealous of anything that robbed him of his mistress's 
notice, that he would run away and hide, whenever she 
took up a book. The day after this performance Madame 
was again summoned to Paris, by the news of her little boy's 
relapse. He had caught a cold which brought on an attack 
of fever and convulsions, and his state was so alarming that 
Monsieur insisted his christening should take place at once. 
It was then the custom to sprinkle the Princes of the royal 
line with water, at their birth, but to defer the administration 
of the full baptismal rites until the age of twelve. On the 
7th of December, the ceremony was performed in the Chapel 



DEATH OF THE DUG DE VALOIS. 24 1 

of the Palais-Royal, The Bishop of Valence, who had 
arrived in Paris a fortnight before, officiated, and the child 
received the name of Philippe Charles. Mademoiselle re- 
presented the Queen of France, who could not leave Saint- 
Germain, on account of her approaching confinement, and the 
Due d'Enghien stood proxy for Charles II. But the poor 
child became rapidly worse, and died on the following even- 
ing. His body lay in state all the next day, and the King 
himself came to show his grief and sympathy by sprinkling 
holy water on the bier, followed by all the princes of the 
blood, and an immense concourse of people. The event was 
regarded as a national calamity, owing to the delicacy of the 
King's only son, and the hopes which had been entertained 
of this promising child. Olivier d'Ormesson, the great 
lawyer, deplores his loss in his journal, but remarks, with a 
touch of Gui Patin's sarca.sm, that people say, if the Due 
de Valois had been the child of a bourgeois^ instead of the 
son of Monsieur, he would not have died. The poor little 
Prince's heart was borne to the Val-de-Grace, and on the 
night of the tenth of December, a stately procession of 
princes and nobles, bearing lighted torches, followed ^his 
remains to their last resting-place in the tomb of the Kings 
at Saint-Denis. Crowds flocked to the funeral, and the 
Bishop of Valence's eloquent discourse drew tears from all 
who were present. 

The loss of this precious child was a terrible blow to 
Madame. Cosnac tells us that she was in despair. Monsieur 
seemed much distressed for a day or two, after which, his sole 
anxiety was to secure the reversion of the allowance which 
his son had received from the King. Louis XIV. showed his 
sister-in-law much sympathy, and sent the following graceful 
little note to Charles II. : — 

"Saint-Germain, 
" 23 Dec. 

" The common loss we have had in the death of my nephew, 

the Due de Valois, touches us both so closely that the only 

difference in our mutual grief is that mine began a few days 

sooner than yours. LOUIS." 

Q 



242 FETE OF VERSAILLES. 

The whole Royal Family spent Christmas quietly together 
at Saint-Germain. But when the Queen had given birth to 
another daughter, on the 4th of January, the King became 
impatient to resume his usual round q{ fetes, and. at his desire, 
Madame consented, reluctantly, to allow the Ballet des Muses 
to be performed at the Palais-Royal, on the 12th of January 
1667. She was weary of fetes and sick at heart, but the 
King^s word was law. In the absence of the Queen, her 
presence was required, and she yielded to the pressure of a 
stern necessity. Balls and concerts now began again, and the 
Carnival was celebrated by a series of banquets and masquer- 
ades at Versailles. The park was thrown open to the public, 
and all who came in masks were allowed to join in the danc- 
ing. The letters of the period are full of the beauty and 
brilliancy o{ \.\\& fetes, of the magical effect of the illuminated 
gardens, and of the rfgal hospitality with which the guests 
were entertained. "The Fete of Versailles must have cost 
millions, it is said. All Paris was there, and 4000 partridges 
were served at supper." Bussy-Rabutin's mouth watered 
when he read of these wonders, and he sighed over the hard 
fate which kept him in the country. " Was there ever a King 
so great alike in peace and in war ? " he exclaims. But there 
was another side to the picture. " Here, in Paris," wrote 
Olivier d'Ormesson, "there are few masques, and few people 
who have the heart to be joyful." And Gui Patin draws a 
striking contrast between the magnificence of the Court and 
the poverty of the peasantry, and laments tlie heavy burdens 
which excessive taxation has entailed on the country. 

" Never before, in the memory of man," he writes, " was the 
world so poor or so wretched, and yet the town is full of fools 
who run about in the streets in masks. All around me people 
complain loudly of their misery. And I, who have all my life 
offered up the Wise Man's prayer — give me neither poverty 
nor riches — am forced to tremble when I see such disorder. 
Well, this Carnival at least is over ! The doctors complain 
that they have no patients and no money. Only comedians 
have a good time of it. Tartiiffe is all the rage. All the 
great world goes there. We need not wonder. Muman life 
is like nothing so much as a comedy." 



I- 
INVASION OF FLANDERS. 243 

No sooner was the secret treaty with Charles signed, than 
Turenne marched to the frontier at the head of an army of 
50,000 men. 

" Paris is a desert," complained Madame de Sevigne, on her 
return from the country, that spring. " All the youth of 
France is gone to fight in Flanders, and I shall go back to the 
country, preferring solitude there to empty streets here.", 

" En attendant que nos guerriers 
Reviennent couronnds de lauriers.'' 

On the i6th of May, Louis XIV. himself joined the army, 
and a few days afterwards Monsieur followed him to P^ronne. 
Since tlie death of the little Due de Valois, Cosnac had re- 
gained his old influence with his master. Monsieur consulted 
him on every occasion, listened to his advice, and took his 
remonstrances in good part. But his folly and pettiness tried 
Cosnac's patience almost beyond endurance. At one time, 
he was inclined to listen to proposals that were made him by 
some Neapolitan nobles, and put himself at the head of a 
revolution which they were plotting against the Spaniards ; 
but when he was told that Naples was close to Vesuvius, and 
was therefore sometimes exposed to the danger of an eruption, 
he promptly gave up the idea. Now, however, he assured 
Cosnac that he was going to appear in a new light, as a 
worthy grandson of Henri Quatre. " Follow me to the camp," 
he said, "and you will see how well I can fight." On the day 
of his departure, he took a tender farewell of Madame, and 
was gratified at seeing her ladies shed tears. She was again 
expecting to become a mother, and remained at Saint-Cloud, 
where she received frequent visits from Queen Henrietta 
Maria, and watched the course of the campaign with the 
utmost eagerness. She was greatly delighted when news 
reached her, that her husband had been seen in the trenches 
at Tournay and Douay, and had distinguished himself by his 
valour and coolness under fire. The warlike ]3ishop was 
always at his side, and took care that the Court gazetteers 
should record his master's prowess. " What ! " said the King 
one day, when he visited the camp before Tournay, " do I see 
M. de Valence in the trenches ! " " Sire," replied Cosnac, " I 



244 monsieur's valour. 

have come here, to be able to tell others, that I have seen the 
greatest King upon earth exposing his person to the same 
risks as a simple soldier." Nevertheless, Louis was not over 
well pleased to see the credit which his brother had acquired, 
and was inclined to look with suspicion on this bold adviser. 
But Monsieur's military ardour proved of short duration. 
Before long, he became more occupied with the decoration of 
his tent and the hanging of crystal chandeliers and mirrors, 
than with active warfare, and he was delighted when a bad 
report of Madame's health gave him an excuse to return 
home, and receive the laurels which he had earned in the field, 
from the fair hands of her ladies. 

On reaching Saint-Cloud, he found Madame very danger- 
ously ill, from the results of a miscarriage. During ten days 
she hovered between life and death, and on the I2th of July, 
Monsieur wrote the following note to Charles II. : — " Madame 
begs me to ask Your Majesty's pardon for not writing by 
this post, but she has not the strength to sit up, since the 
accident which happened to her a week ago, after which she 
was thought to be dead during a quarter-of-an-hour. This 
has obliged me to leave Douay, before the entrance of the 
King, my brother, to whose arms the town surrendered three 
hours before my departure." 

A few days afterwards, the King of France himself paid a 
visit of inquiry to Madame. He had left the army to take a 
short rest at Compiegne, and brought the Queen back with 
him to show her to the new subjects whom he had conquered 
in her name. With her went all the ladies of the Court, chief 
among them La Valliere, whom the King had just raised tq 
the rank of Duchess, and Madame de Montespan, whose more 
striking beauty and superior powers of conversation were 
rapidly gaining the King's affections. The whole campaign 
bore the appearance of a triumphal progress. One city after 
the other opened its gates to his victorious army, and the 
sight of all this splendour was well calculated to impress the 
quiet Flemish burghers. "Ail you have heard of the glory 
of Solomon, and of the Emperor of China," wrote one of 
Bussy's correspondents, " is not to be compared with the pomp 
of warlike array which surrounds the King. The streets are 



THE CHEVALIER DE LORRAINE. 245 

full of cloth of gold, of waving plumes, of chariots and 
superbly-harnessed mules, of horses with gold and embroidered 
trappings, and of sumptuous carriages." And another writer 
remarks : — " La Valliere is playing the Grand Duchess at the 
camp, and Monsieur is gone with fine courage to join the 
King at Arras." 

As soon as Madame was out of danger, Monsieur did in- 
deed return to the army, accompanied by his faithful Bishop. 
He was present at the surrender of Oudenarde, and appeared 
in the trenches at the siege of Lille. It was even whispered 
that Monsieur was to receive the post of Lieutenant-General 
of the army, and the King really promised him the command 
of an expedition to Catalonia, which was planned to take 
place in the sjiring. Unfortunately, one day the Chevalier de 
Lorraine appeared in camp. The sight of him renewed all 
Monsieur's old infatuation. From that moment, Cosnac saw 
that all his efforts were doomed to failure. Monsieur could 
talk and think of nothing else but his favourite, and when the 
Chevalier was slightly wounded, he left the camp to spend 
whole days in his company. After the surrender of Lille, the 
King, satisfied with the conquests which he had effected, left 
the command of the army to Turenne, and returned to Paris 
with the Queen. Monsieur joined his wife at Villers-Cotterets, 
where her mother had brought her for change of air after her 
long illness. He received a warm welcome, and his mother- 
in-law was especially cordial in her congratulations on the 
distinctions that he had won. For a few days he occupied 
himself harmlessly enough, although, much to Cosnac's disgust, 
in ranging chairs and tables in battle array, and sticking 
mirrors up as outposts. But in a little while, the Chevalier 
de Lorraine appeared on the scene, and there was an end of 
all peace. Monsieur ran to meet him with transports of joy, 
and would never leave his side. He informed Cosnac of his 
intention to keep his favourite henceforth about his person, 
and to have no secrets from him. Accordingly, on his return 
to Paris, the Chevalier de Lorraine was installed in the best 
rooms of the Palais-Royal, and admitted into Monsieur's 
closest confidence. 

Soon the Bishop began to feel the ill effects of his master's 



246 DISGRACE OF COSNAC. 

foolish passion. Monsieur complained that Cosnac was too 
much attached to Madame's service, and too intimate with 
her faithful servant Madame de Saint-Chaumont. He accused 
him of plotting against the Chevalier, and set spies to watch 
his movements. In vain Madame assured her husband if the 
man had a fault it was that of serving him with too much zeal 
and loyalty. The Bishop resolved to take his leave without 
delay and return to his diocese. Even Madame's entreaties 
could not shake his determination, grieved as he was to desert 
her at this critical time. He obtained a parting audience from 
the King, in which he explained himself with his accustomed 
freedom, and observed to the Due de Luxembourg as he left 
the royal presence : " I have just seen a great man who has 
disgusted me more than ever with the petit maitre it is my 
misfortune to serve ! " Louis's reply was a very gracious one, 
and he afterwards told the Mar^chal de Gramont, that his 
brother had never had but one able man in his service, and 
that he had been unable to keep him long. So Cosnac left 
Court, but not without a parting promise to Madame that he 
would return at the earliest opportunity. Fortunately Henri- 
etta had the support of her mother's presence in the trials 
that were fast thickening about her. She paid frequent visits 
to Colombes, where the Queen-mother led a very retired life 
during the summer, while she spent the winter at the Hotel 
de la Baziniere, a fine house in Paris, which had been lent her 
by the King's orders. Madame's correspondence with her 
royal brother had been actively renewed since the cessation 
of the war with Kngland. Unfortunately her own letters to 
Charles during this period have perished, and the last we have 
from her pen is dated January 1666. Three only of the 
King's belong to the year 1667. 

The first of these was addressed to her during her illness at 
Saint-Cloud, and contains little but an apology for his neglect, 
in leaving so many of her letters unanswered. The second 
was written a month later, in answer to an appeal which 
Henrietta had made him on behalf of her old friend, Miss 
Stewart, who had incurred his displeasure bv marrying the 
Duke of Richmond. The King's own passion for the 
beautiful maid-of-honour was so well known, that when the 



MISS STEWART. 247 

Queen's death seemed imminent, his marriage with Miss 
Stewart had been confidently expected. But although 
Hamilton tells us that she was blest with as little wit as she 
had great beauty, and seemed well content to accept the 
King's homage, "la belle Stuart" had kept her reputation 
unsullied, and, to her honour, refused all the presents offered 
to her by her royal lover. The position, however, was a 
difficult one, and when the Duke of Richmond, who had long 
been dying of love for her, laid his hand and heart at her feet, 
she, according to Hamilton, left Court, and was privately 
married to him. Charles II.'s anger was great at what he 
considered this breach of friendship. For some time he re- 
fused to admit the Duke and Duchess to his presence, and not 
even Henrietta's intercession could induce him to forgive his 
old favourite. But this severity, as we shall see, did not last 
very long, and the influence of " that fantastic little gentleman, 
Dan Cupid," soon regained its old power over the good- 
natured monarch. 

"Whithai.i,, 

"■2-] July 1667. 

" I have been so faulty to you in matter of writing, as it 
is impudence to expect pardon from you. The truth is, I am 
gotten into such a vaine of hunting and the game lies so farr 
from this towne, as I must spende one day intirely to kill one 
stagg, and then the other dayes I have a great deale of 
businesse, so that all this, with my lazynesse towards writing, 
has been the cause of my faulte towards you. I am but iust 
now come from hunting, and am very weary, but I am re- 
solved for the future to be very punctuall in writing to you 
so that in time I hope to merritt your pardon, for though I 
am fauty to you in letters, I am sure there is nothing can 
love an other so well as I do you. C R.' 

" Whithall, 
" 26 Aug. 1667. 

" I do assure you I am very much troubled that I cannot 
in everything give you that satisfaction I could wish, especi- 
ally in this businesse of the duchesse of Richmonde, wherein 
you may thinke me ill natured, but if you consider how hard 



248 DISGRACE OF CLARENDON. 

a thinf^ 'tis to swallow an injury done by a person I had so 
much tendernesse for, you will in some degree excuse the 
resentment I use towards her ; you know my good nature 
enough to bcleevc that I could not be so severe, if I had not 
great provocation, and I assure you her carriage towards me 
has been as bad as breach of frindship and faith can make it, 
therfore I hope you will pardon me if I cannot so soon 
forgett an injury which went so neere my hart. I will not 
now answer the letter you writt by your watterman who fell 
sick upon the way, and so I had the letter but some dayes 
since, but will expect a safer way to write then by the post. 
I beleeve Ruvigny will be heere in two or three dayes, and 
the other gentleman whos name I cannot reade in your letter. 
The peace was proclaimed heere on Saturday last, and so I 
will end my letter, and will only add the assurance of my 
being intierly Yours. C. R." 

The next letter deals with a gi*aver subject. The Lord 
Chancellor, Clarendon, had been de[)rivcd of his office, and 
condemned to banishment, by a recent vote of Parliament. 
During his tenure of office, he had made many enemies, and 
of late years he had forfeited the King's favour by en- 
deavouring to set limits to his extravagance, and to the 
increasing rapacity of his mistresses. He was also supposed 
to have privately countenanced the Duke of Richmond's 
marriage, a step which Charles could not forgive. But 
Madame had been greatly alarmed and distressed on hearing 
of Clarendon's fall, and had, it seems, expressed herself with 
some warmth on the subject, in writing to the King. Charles 
replied in the following terms : — 

"Whithall, 

" 30 Nov. 1667. 

" If you looke upon our condition heere, as it is reported 
by common fame, I do confesse you have reason to have 
those aprchensions you mention in your letter by this bearer ; 
the truth is, the ill conduct of my \J^ Clarendon in my 
affaires has forced me to pcrmitt many inquirycs to be made, 
which otherwise I would not have suffred the parlament to 
have done, though I must tell you that in themselves they 



LORD CHESTERFIELDS PORTRAIT. 249 

are but inconvenient apearances, rather than real mischives. 
There can be nothing advanced in the Pari : for my advan- 
tage, till this matter of my L'^ Clarendon be over, but after 
that I shall be able to take my mesures to with them, as you 
will see the good effects of it ; I am sure I will not part with 
any of my power, nor do I bcleeve that they will desire any 
unreesonable thing, I have written at large to the Queene, in 
the particular of my L"^ Clarendon, which I could not do but 
by a safe way, and I dout not that you will in that matter, 
and many others, have informations very farr from the truth. 
I will add no more, only thanke you for your kindnesse in 
being so free witii me, which I pray continue upon all occa- 
sions, and be assured tliat I am enticrly Yours. C. R." 

All that autumn, Madame remained in weak health, and a 
note written by Monsieur to Charles II., on the 20th of 
October, informed him that for six days she had suffered so 
acutely from headaches, that she was unable to leave her bed- 
room, and lay there with closed shutters all day. The remedies 
prescribed by the doctors had given her no relief, and she 
had been bled in the foot with no effect but that of increasing 
her pains. Soon afterwards, however, she was able to appear 
on horseback, at the royal hunting-parties held at Versailles, 
in honour of St. Hubert's Feast, and rode at the head of her 
ladies with her usual grace and spirit. 

A description of her, which was sent home by Philip, the 
second Earl of Chesterfield, when he visited Paris, is interest- 
ing, in spite of its flowery language, as showing the impres- 
sion made by her upon this acute observer and keen judge of 
womanhood, in these last years of her life. It was written at 
the request of the Countess of Derby, the daughter-in-law of 
her mother's old friend, Charlotte de la Tremouille, whom he 
addresses as follows : — 

"Since our correspondence hath outlived our inclination, 
and that you are pleased to command me to send you the 
portrait or description of Armida, though I am very unable 
to perform as hard a task, yet I will endeavour it with great 
fidelity. Your ladyship knowes that sometimes very ill 
painters doc draw as like as the greatest masters. Armida 



250 ARMIDA. 

whom all the world so much admires, is a princess who, at 
the first blush, appears to be of the greatest quality, and has 
something in the looks besides her beauty, so new and un- 
usual, that it surprises the beholders. Her stature is rather 
tall than otherwise, her shape is delicate, her motions grace- 
ful, her eyes are sparkling and yet compassionate, and do not 
only penetrate the thoughts of others, but often also express 
her own, teaching, as it were, a language yet unknown to any 
but the blest above. Her breasts seem two little moving 
worlds of pleasure, which, by the reflection of her eyes, fire 
the hartes of all that see them, and yet so sweet an inno- 
cency shines in her composure, that one would think she 
neither knew or had ever heard the name of sin. Her lips 
do always blush for kissing of the finest teeth that were ever 
seen, and her complexion is unparalleled. The freedom of 
her carriage and the pleasantness of her discourse would 
charm an anchorite, yet there is something of majesty so 
mixed with all the rest, that it stifles the breath of any unruly 
thought, and creates a love, mingled with fear, very like that 
we owe to a deity. Her wit is mostly extolled by all that 
hear her, for she has not only a peculiar talent in finding apt 
similitudes, and in the quickness of her repartee, but in the 
plainest subject of her discourse, she finds out something new 
and unexpected which pleases all her auditors. But now as 
to her mind ; though always generous, it is so changeable, as 
to other things, that it seems incapable of lasting friendship ; 
for she is never long satisfied with herself, or with those who 
endeavour most to please her." 

Lord Chesterfield, it is plain from this last sentence, 
judged Madame as a casual acquaintance, who had seen her 
shine in society, but was never intimate with her. Cosnac 
and Bussy, La Fayette and Bossuet, have a very different tale 
to toll. She was, they all agree, the truest and the best of 
friends. 

The Court now returned to Paris for Christmas, and the 
presence of a new guest at the winter fetes gladdened Henri- 
etta's heart. This was her brother's illegitimate son, the 
young Duke of Moimiouth. I'^ur some years he had been 
recognised at the iLnglish Court, and was treated with great 



MONMOUTH. 251 

kindness by the Queen and the Duchess of York. The 

King's affection for him was well known, and he now sent 

him to Paris, with the following recommendation, to his 

sister's care. \v 

" WHITHAfJ,, 

"14/rt;/. 1668. 
" I beleeve you may easily guesse that I am some thing 
concerned for this bearer, James,^ and therefore I put him 
into your handes to be directed by you in all thinges, and 
pray use that authority over him as you ought to do in kind- 
nesse to me, which is all I shall say to you at this time, for I 
thinke he will not be so soone at Paris as the post, and have 
no more to trouble you now, only to assure you that I am 
intierly yours. C. R." 

Henrietta, as might be expected, responded warmly to 
her brother's request. She welcomed her nephew affection- 
ately, received him in the Palais-Royal, and gave a series of 
balls and /i^/es in his honour during that carnival. The hand- 
some youth who danced so well, and was distinguished by his 
graceful manners, soon became very popular at Court, and 
was on the best of terms with Madame. He taught her to 
dance the English country dances, which Charles H. so often 
called for in his revels at Whitehall and Hampton Court, 
and made himself agreeable to her in a thousand ways. But 
his presence soon aroused her husband's jealousy, and the 
mischievous Chevalier de Lorraine took care to fan the flame. 
Monsieur complained to his wife that she conversed with the 
Duke in English, and preferred her nephew's society to his 
own. Madame, in return, complained of his favourite's insol- 
ence, and of the airs which he gave himself in her house. 
She had, it must be owned, good cause to resent the 
Chevalier's conduct. He had openly seduced her maid-of- 
honour, Mademoiselle de Fiennes, and when Monsieur, in a fit 
of jealousy, drove the wretched girl out of his house without a 
word to Madame, Lorraine had the face to say that he had 

' The words "Duke of Monmouth" have been here added in red ink and a 
tlifferent handwriting. 



252 monsieur's evil genius. 

sacrificed his mistress to his friendship for Monsieur, For 
some time Madame refused to admit him to her presence, 
and when Monsieur insisted on his return, told him plainly 
what she thought of his favourite. She poured out the same 
grievances in secret to Madame de Saint-Chaumont, who still 
retained the post of governess to her young daughter. This 
lady, indignant, as all Madame's servants were, at the 
Chevalier's behaviour to their mistress, took her complaints 
to the King, who blamed his brother severely for allowing 
his favourite such license. Upon this, Monsieur turned 
sulky, and carried off Madame, much against her will, to 
Villers-Cotterets, where she had to spend some weeks with 
only Lorraine and himself for her companions. 

This was the state of things which the Bishop of Valence 
found on his return to Court, immediately after Easter. The 
cold reception which Monsieur gave him, convinced him that 
it would be useless to continue in his service, and it was only 
Madame's earnest prayer that prevented him from resigning 
his office on the spot. " In God's name, Madame," he said, 
" let me go out honestly by the door, and save Monsieur the 
trouble of throwing me out of the window ! " 

His words were but too true. After spending a week at 
Saint-Germain, where the Court then was, he returned to Paris. 
There he received a message from Monsieur, ordering him to 
give up his post of Grand Almoner and leave Paris at once. 
In vain both Madame and her mother, Queen Henrietta 
Maria, who had a great regard for the Bishop, used all the 
arguments in their power to induce Monsieur not to dismiss 
this faithful servant in so abrupt a manner. He refused to 
liear reason, and after a vain appeal to the King, Cosnac left 
Paris. Nor did the malice of his enemies end here. Lor- 
raine's powerful friends joined with the ministers, Colbert and 
Louvois, who had no love for the Bishop, in persuading the 
King that he was a dangerous person, and he received an 
order, through the Archbishop of Paris, not to return to Paris 
without His Majesty's permission. The injustice of the 
whole proceeding rankled deeply in Cosnac's heart. What, 
he asks indignantly, in a letter to a friend, were the crimes to 
which he owed his disirrace ? 



DISCiRACE OF COSNAC. 253 

" I have tried to the best of my power to serve Monsieur 
well, to make him a great Prince, honoured and respected by- 
all. I have tried to help him to make himself useful and 
agreeable to his Majesty, I have desired that he should love 
and consider Madame as the greatness of her soul and the 
goodness of her heart deserve. And I have tried to make 
him just and kind to the servants who are faithful and active 
in doing his bidding. These are the only cabals of which I 
have been guilty." 

But, in his disappointment and solitude, he had one great 
consolation in the sympathy of his friends. Chief among 
these was Madame. She could not forgive herself for having, 
as she felt, caused his ruin, and she did all in her power to 
soften the ill-treatment which he had received at her hus- 
band's hands. 

"In my distress," he writes, " I received letters from 
Madame, so full of kindness, so generous and touching, that 
they sometimes made me feel there could be no prosperity as 
sweet and gracious as disgrace." 

He goes on to quote one of these letters which reached 
him in Paris on the day after he left the Palais-Royal : — 

" You have always seen me so much attached to Monsieur's 
interests by inclination, as well as by duty, that if I could 
not distinguish his real from his pretended friends, you might 
have reason to doubt my friendship in his conduct towards 
yourself But as this is not the first time that the misfor- 
tune of private individuals has proved stronger than the 
justice of princes, I hope you will regard these events as a 
trick of destiny, which is not to be resisted, and understand 
that the fatality which has cost you Monsieur's favour, does 
not extend to me, for I shall ever retain the same esteem I 
have always felt for you, and shall do my utmost to prove 
this by my actions." 

True to her word, Madame did not forget the servant 
whose only fault, as Monsieur himself acknowledged, was 
that he had been too zealous in her service. She kept up 
constant communication with him, through Madame de Saint- 



254 DISGRACE OF COSNAC. 

Chaumont, and interceded repeatedly with the King on his 
behalf. But Louis XIV. was inflexible. Some imprudent 
words of Cosnac, when he heard that Monsieur had asked the 
King to banish him, were repeated to him: — "Tell Monsieur," 
the Bishop had said, "that he will find it easier to obtain my 
dismissal, than it was to get himself made Governor of Lan- 
guedoc ! " The King, who was aware of Cosnac's share in 
soliciting this post for Monsieur, regarded these words as a 
breach of confidence, and was confirmed in his prejudice against 
the independent prelate. But he never failed to recognise 
Cosnac's merit, and in after years, when Madame had long 
been dead, and the old intrigues were forgotten, he honoured 
the Bishop^with repeated marks of his favour, and told him 
plainly that, personally, he had never borne him any grudge, 
but that he had been obliged to gratify his brother's caprice. 



CHAPTER XIX 
1668 

The Triple vVlliance — Conquest of Franche-Conite — Court intrigues in Fr.ince 
and England — Lady Shrewsbury and Madame de Mazarin. 

Early in the year 1668, Sir William Temple succeeded in 
concluding that Treaty of union between England, Holland 
and Sweden, which became known by the name of the Triple 
Alliance. The object of this Treaty, as is well known, was 
to oppose the French King's schemes of conquest, which 
began to excite the alarm of all Europe. The very day on 
which the Treaty was signed, Charles H. wrote the following 
letter to his sister : — 

" Whithall, 

"23/^;?. 1668. 

" 1 believe you will be a little surprised at the treatyl have 
concluded with the States, the effect of it is to bring Spaine 
to consent to the peace, upon the termes the King of France 
hath avowed he will be content with, so as I have done nothing 
to prejudice France in this agreement, and they cannot wonder 
that I provide for my selfe against any mischifes this warre 
may produce, and finding my propositions to France receave 
so cold an answer, which in effect was as good as a refusall, I 
thought I had no other way but this to secure my selfe. If 
I finde by the letters that my L^ S' Albans is come away, 
I do intend to send somebody else into France, to incline the 
King to accept of this peace. I give you a thousand thankes 
for the care you take before hand of James, I will answer for 
him that he will be very obedient in all your commands, and 
your kindnesse to him obliges me as much as tis possible, for 
I do confesse I love him very well ; he was, I beleeve, with 

25s 



256 DAN CUPID. 

you, before your last letter came to my hands. You were 
misinformed in your intelligence concerning the D^^''^ of 
Richmond. If you were as well acquainted with a little 
fantastical gentleman called Cupide as I am, you would 
neither wonder, nor take ill, any suden changes which do 
happen in the affaires of his conducting, but in this matter 
there is nothing done in it. I do not answer Monsieur's 
letter by this post, because I have not yett spoken with M. de 
S' Laurens,^ to whom the letter refers me, so I shall only 
desire you to remember me very kindly to him, and be 
assured that I am entierly yours. C. R." 

" VVnrjiiAi.L, 

''2,oJa?i. 1668. 

" I cannot thanke you enough for your goodness and 

kindnesse to James. His letter to me is almost nothing else 

but telling how much he is obliged to you and Monsieur for 

your care of him, and since you have taken the trouble of 

lodging him at the Talais-Royal, I am sure he cannot be 

better. I am very glad that you have put the thought of 

going to the army out of his head, for it were not proper that 

he should apeare in any army, now that I have become a 

mediataur, by the treaty I have lately made with Holland, 

and I am now despatching an envoye to the King of france 

in order to the mediation, which I hope will hinder Monsieur's 

iourney into Catalogna, and save him from a hott campaigne, 

and this is all I will trouble you with at present, only againe 

thanke you for your kindnesse to James, and beg of you to 

be assured that my kindnesse and tendernesse to you is more 

then I can expresse. C. R." 

"Whithall, 

''i\J''c-l>. 1668. 

" I have dispatched this bearer, S" John Trevor, into France 
as my envoys extraordinary, with power to negociate the 
Peace between the two crownes, according to the treaty I 

' A member of Monsieur's household, whose ollice it was to introduce Ambas- 
sadors into his and Madanie's presence, lie was devoled to Ids mistress, and 
hiylily eslecmcd by Madame, both for his own merit and as a perstjnal friend of 
Cosnac. 



LETTERS OF CHARLES IL 25/ 

lately made with the States of the united provinces, I have 
given him orders to communicate all things with that freedom 
to you as I ought to do, haveing that kindnesse for you which 
I cannot in words sufficiently expresse. I hope he will not 
finde his worke difficulte, since I presse nothing but the con- 
ditions of peace, which the King of France offred to agree 
with Spaine upon. Mon"^ de S' Laurans will part from hence, 
in two or three days, by him I will write more to you, and so 
I am intierly Yours. C. R." 

"Whithall, 

" \o Feb. 1668. 

" I cannot enough thanke you for your kindnesse to James. 
I hope he is as sensible of your goodnesse to him as I am. 
I do not intende to call him yett away from you, except Mon- 
sieur should go to the army, but in that case I thinke it will 
not be decent for him to stay at Paris, when everybody will 
be in the feilde, and on the other side, as matters stande, it 
will not be convenient for me that he should goe to the army, 
for divers reasons, which I will not trouble you with in this 
letter. But I hope there will be no neede of Monsieur's going 
thither. I went this day to the parlament, to acquaint them 
with the League I had latly made, and to put them in minde 
of my debts I had contracted in this last warr, and to %\v^ me 
some mony at this present. They have put of the considera- 
tion of it till friday, and then I hope they will behave them- 
selves as they ought to do. I have dispatched Mon"" de S"^ 
Laurans this day to yon, who I finde as much an honeste 
Jwnnne as you tould me he was, so as I have not any more to 
say to 3'ou how, but to assure that I am intierly yours. 

" C. R." 

The winter campaign to which Charles alludes in these 
letters was the brilliant expedition of Louis XIV. and Cond6, 
which resulted in the conquest of the whole province of 
Franche-Comte from the Spaniards in less than a month's 
time. But the intervention of the Triple Alliance forced Louis 
to consent to peace. Ralph Montagu had been appointed 
Ambassador to France in March 1668, and had been wel- 

R 



258 I'EACE OF AIX-LA-CIIAPELLE. 

corned by Madame with the warmth of an old friend. Sir John 
Trevor was also sent to Paris to propose terms of agreement 
between France and Spain, and on the 22d of April 1668, 
plenipotentiaries from both countries met at Aix-la-Chapeile, 
where the Peace was eventually concluded. Louis XIV. gave 
up his newly-conquered province on condition of retaining the 
towns of Spanish Flanders which he had taken in the previous 
campaign. But his ambitious designs were only put off for 
the moment, and the conquest of Holland itself was already 
present to his mind. To detach Charles II, from the Triple 
Alliance now became the chief object of his policy, and in 
the negotiations which were shortly resumed between the two 
kings, Madame once more found herself called upon to play a 
leading part. A note which Louis XIV. addressed to his 
sister-in-law, during his winter campaign, is of interest as a 
proof of the affectionate regard in which he held her. 

"A DijoN, 
"/^ 5 Fcvricr 1668. 

" If I did not love you so well, I should not write to you, 
for I have nothing to say, and I have given my brother all 
the news there is to tell. But I am very glad to be able to 
assure you once more of what I have already told you, which 
is, that I have as much affection for you as you can possibly 
desire. Be persuaded of what this letter confirms, and please 
present my compliments to Mesdames de Monaco and de 
Thianges." 

During this spring, in spite of the delicate state of her 
health, which Charles so often mentions with anxiety in his 
letters, Madame kept up an active correspondence, not only 
with her brother, but with several leading Englishmen at his 
Court. She writes to Buckingham, Arlington and James 
Hamilton, all in turn, and knows everything that is happening 
at Whitehall. Nor does she hesitate to give Charles good 
advice, and reproach him freely for his indolence and extra- 
vagance. 

We learn, from the King's letter of March 5, that dis- 
quieting rumours as to the state of affairs in England had 



ENGLISH AFFAIRS. 259 

reached her. She was especially concerned to hear of the 
great influence which Buckinghann had obtained over her 
brother. Charles, as usual, took her advice in good part, if 
he did not profit by it, but tried to excuse himself, and lay 
the blame on his late minister, Clarendon. 

" I am extreamly troubled that Trevor carried himselfe so 
like an Asse to you. I have sent him a chideing for it. I 
can say nothing for him, but that it was a faute for want of 
good breeding, which is a disease very much spread over this 
country. I receaved your long letter of the 7th inst. now, 
wherein I perceave you are very much alarmed at my con- 
dition, and at the caballs which are growing heere. I do 
take your concerne for me very kindly, and thanke you for 
the councell you give me, but I do not thinke you have so 
much cause to feare, as you seemc to do, in your letter. There 
is no doute but a house of Commons will be extravagant 
enough when there is neede of them, and 'tis not much to 
be wondred at, that I should be in debt, after so expence- 
full a warr as I have had, which undoubtedly will give me 
some trouble before I gett out of it. I will not deny but 
that naturally 1 am more lazy then I ought to be, but you 
are very ill informed if you do not know that my Tresury, 
and in deede all my other affaires, are in as good a methode 
as our understandings can put them into. And I thinke the 
peace (13. February 1668) I have made betweene Spaine and 
Portugal and the defensive league (23. January 1668) I have 
made with Holland, should give some testimony to the world 
that we thinke of our interest heere. I do assure you that 
I neglect nothing for want of paines. If we faile for want of 
understanding, there is no helpe for it. The gentleman by 
mistake gave hamilton's letter to my L'' Arlington, who read 
it, without looking upon the superscription, and so brought it 
to me. I assure you that my L'^ of Buckingham does not 
governe affaires heere. I do not doute but my L^ Clarendon, 
and some of his frinds heere, will discreditt me and my affaires 
as much as they can, but I shall say no more upon that 
subject, for, if you knew how ill a servant he has been to me, 
you would not doute but he would be glad things should not 



26o COURT GOSSir. 

go on smouthly, now he is out of affaires, and most of the 
vexation and trouble I have at present in my affaires I owe 
to him. The Parlament have voted me three hundred 
thousand pounds for the setting out of a fleete, and are now 
finding out the meanes of raising it. You will heare great 
complaints from La Roche, who was taken in the ship called 
the Ruby last yeare, but Trevor will lett you know the truth, 
and then you will see that I have reason to complaine. I will 
add no more to this long letter, only againe thanke you for 
your good councell, which I take very kindly from you, as 
a marke of your concerne for me, but pray do not be 
alarumed so soone by politique coxcombes, who thinke all 
wisdome lies in finding faute, and be assured that I have all 
the kindnesse and tendernesse for you imaginable. 

" C. R." 

The next {q.\n letters are chiefly taken up with the latest 
Court gossip. The Duchess of Richmond's attack of small- 
pox, an event which had the effect of restoring her to the 
King's good graces, the hopes of an heir to the Crown that 
were once more entertained, the scandal caused by Lady 
Shrewsbury's intrigues with Harry Killigrew and Buckingham, 
and by the attack on her first lover as he left St James's, his 
consequent flight abroad, and the Duke's famous duel with 
her husband; these and similar topics, which were the common, 
talk of the day, fill the pages which run so glibly off the 
King's pen. At the same time, he takes a lively interest in 
what is passing at the French Court, in the controversy as to 
whether a certain lady paints her face or not, in the sudden 
flight of the Duchesse de Mazarin from Paris. This " famous 
but errant beauty," as Evelyn calls her, was the same Hor- 
tense Mancini whose hand Charles himself had once sought 
in marriage, and who was, before long, to come and take up 
her permanent residence at his Court. Her quarrels with her 
husband had long made her notorious, and a judicial separa- 
tion was pending when, one night, she suddenly left her home, 
and travelled to the frontier in the disguise of a man. When 
she reached the gates of Paris, she discovered that her money 
and jewels had been forgotten, upon which she returned, with 



LADY SHREWSBURY. 26 1 

tlie utmost coolness, to fetch them before she continued her 
journey to Italy. This feat made the Merry Monarch remark 
that, in point of discretion, the Duchess had surpassed my 
Lady Shrewsbury ! He goes on to observe that wives do not 
like devout husbands, a sarcasm which, as well as another 
phrase in his letter of the 14th of May, was evidently aimed 
at the pious Due de Mazarin and the Marquis de Montespan, 
who had given way to a just burst of indignation on discover- 
ing his wife's intrigue with Louis XIV. All this is mingled 
with affectionate advice to Madame about her health, and the 
careful diet which she ought to observe, a precaution in which 
he seems to put more faith than in either Sir Theodore 
Mayerne's pills or the masses that were said daily by order 
of Queen Henrietta for her daughter's recovery. 

" Whithall, 

" 10 March 1668. 

" I am very sorry that your health obliges you to go to 

bourbon, but undoutedly 'tis the best course you can take to 

establish your health againe, which is that which you ought 

to thinke of in the first place. I am sure I am more concerned 

for it then for anything in this world, and if I had no other 

reason but gratitude, I ought to love more than I can ex- 

presse. My L^ of Buckingham is so affraide, that you should 

thinke that he is the cause that Killigrew does not return 

hither, since you have desired him to forgive what is past, as 

he has againe desired me to tell you, there is nothing of what 

relates to him in the case ; as in truth there is not, but he has 

offended so many of the Ladyes relations in what concernes 

her, as it would not be convenient for him to shew his face 

heere. The truth is, both for his owne sake and oure quiett 

heere, it will be no inconvenience for him to have a little 

pacience in other countries. The parlament goes on very 

slowly in there mony, but they advance something every day. 

How ever I am prepareing my ships to goe to sea for the 

summer guarde ; we expect Don John every day heere, in his 

way to Flanders. I hope his only businesse will be for the 

conclusion of the peace, which I wish may have a happy 

conclusion for many reasons. This bearer, Tom Howard, will 



262 THE DUCHESS OF RICHIMOND. 

lett you know of all things heere, so I shall not add any more, 
but to assure you that I am, with all imaginable kindnesse. 
Yours. C. R." 

" Whithall, 

''4 A prill 1668. 

" I send this expresse back againe, with the returne of 
what he brought from Trevor and Van Benninghen, the par- 
ticulars of which he will acquainte you with, so as I will only 
add upon that matter, that I hope the peace will follow. I 
receaved yours of the sixth since the post went, so as I could 
not say anything to you then. I cannot tell whether the 
duchesse of Richmond will be much marked with the small 
pox, she has many, and I feare they will at least do her no 
good ; for her husband, he cannot alter from what he is, lett 
her be never so much changed ! But to turne my discourse 
to a matter which I am more concerned with than anything 
in this world, I see by your letter to James Hamilton that 
you are consulting your health with a I'hysisian, which 1 have 
a very ill opinion of in that affaire, which is your selfe. I 
must confesse I have not much better opinion of those you 
were governed by before, not beleeving they understand the 
disease you have so well as they do heere. I have therefore 
sent Doctor Fraser to you, who I will dispatch to-morrow, 
who is well-acquainted with the constitution of your body, and 
I beleeve is better verst in those kind of diseases, than any 
man in Paris, for those kinde of obstructions are much more 
heere than in France, and this is all I shall trouble you with 
at this time, but that I am intierly yours. C. R." 

"Whithall, 

"7/// May 1668. 

I have so often asked your pardon for omitting writing to 
you, as I am almost ashamed to do it now, the truth is, the 
last weeke I absolutely forgott it till it was to late, for I was 
at the Duchesse of Richmond's who, you know, I have not 
seene this twelve monthes, and shee put it out of my heade 
that it was post day. She is not much marked with the smale 
pox, and I must confesse this last affliction made me pardon 
all that is past, and cannot hinder myselfe from wishing her 



GOOD ADVICE. 263 

very well, and I hope shee will not be much changed, as scone 
as her eye is well, for she has a very great defluction in it, and 
even some danger of haveing a blemish in it, but now I 
beleevc the worst is past. I did receave your letter by Fitz 
Gerald the same day that the physisians were doing the very 
prescriptions you advise in your letter, but now that matter 
is over, for my wife misscaried this morning, and though I am 
troubled at it, yett I am glad that 'tis evident she was with 
childe, which I will not deny to you ; till now, I did feare she 
was not capable of The Physisians do intend to put her into 
a course of physique, which they are confident will make her 
holde faster next time. Ruvigny did tell me some dayes 
since of that matter concerning my L^ Sandwich, which I 
can say nothing to, till I heare from hence, only, if he has done 
what you are informed of, I am sure he is inexcusable, and 
shall answer for it severely when he comes home, for I never 
did nor never will permitt my ambassadore to give the place 
to any whatsoever. I am very glad you are so well pleased 
with Trevor, for I have a very good opinion of him, not only 
of his ability to serve me, but likewise of his inclination and 
faithfulnesse to do it ; he shall know the obligation he has to 
you, and when 'tis a fitt season, the effects of it also. I will 
not go about to decide the dispute betweene Mam's masses 
or M'' de Mayerne's pills, but I am sure the suddenesse of 
your recovery is as necrc a miracle as anything can be, and 
though you finde your selfe very well now, for God's sake 
have a care of your diett, and beleeve the planer your diett is 
the better health you will have. Above all, have a care of 
strong brothes and gravy in the morning. I aske your 
pardon for forgetting to deliver your message to James (the 
Duke of Monmouth), but I have done it now; he shall answer 
for him selfe, and I am sure he has no excuse, for I have 
often put him in minde to acknowledge, upon all occasions, 
the great obligations he has to you for your goodnesse to him, 
which I assure you he expresses every day heere. If he does 
faile in writting, I feare he takes a little after his father, and 
so I will end this long trouble with the assureing you that I 
cannot expresse the kindnesse and tendernesse I have for 
)-ou. C. R." 



264 COURT GOSSIP. 



Whithall, 
" 14 May 1668. 



" Trevor was very much in the right to assure you that I 
would not take it ill that you did that part of chariti for my 
L*^ Clarendon, for my displeasure does not follow him to that 
degree as to wish him any where but out of England. I see 
Monbrun does not change his humour ; he allwayes tould 
every lady heere that his daughter was not painted, as was 
beleeved as much as he is in france ; for her two other 
qualities, I can only say that if she be as truly his daughter 
as I am confident she was honest heere, he may be beleeved, 
for I am very confident no lady heere tooke the paines to 
aske her an indecent question. The truth is, James did main- 
taine for some time that she was not painted, but he was 
quickly laffed out of it. I am sorry to finde that cucolds in 
France grow so troublesome. They have been inconvenient 
in all countries this last yeare. I have been in great trouble 
for James his wife, her thigh being as we thought sett very 
well, for three dayes together. At last we found it was still 
out, so that the day before yesterday it was sett, with all the 
torture imaginable ; she is now pretty well, and I hope will not 
be lame. I have been to sea, and am but newly returned, so 
as I have not time to add any more, but that I am entierly 
Yours. C. R." 

"Whithall, 

" 24 May 1668. 

" You have, I hope, receaved full satisfaction by the last 
post in the matter of Marsillac, for my L"^ Arlington has sent 
to Mr Montagu his history all the time he was heere, by which 
you will see how little creditt he had heere, and that particu- 
larly my L"^ Arlington was not in his good graces, because 
he did not receave that satisfaction, in his negociation, he 
expected, and that was only in relation to the Swissers, and 
so I thinke I have sayd enough of this matter, and shall ^wq 
you now a particular account of my wife with that plainenesse 
you desire . . and if you desire any more of this kind, I will 
be instructed farther by the wemen, and send it to you. The 
accident which befell the Prince of Toscane, and the french 



MADAME DE MAZARIN. 265 

ambassadore heere made a great noise, but my Lady Shrews- 
buryes businesse with Harry Kiliigrew has quite silenced the 
other. My L"* chiefe Justice is inquircing after the matter, 
and what the Law will do I cannot tell, but the Lady is re- 
tired out of her house, and not certainly knowne where she is. 
And so, my dearest sister, good night, for 'tis late, and I have 
nothing to add but that which I can never tell you too offten, 
how truly and passionately I love my dearest Minette. 

" C. R." 

" Whithall, 

" x^June 1668. 

" The bearer and James Hamilton will tell you all that 
passes heere. The suden retreate of Madame Mazarin is as 
extraordinaire an action as I have heard. She has exceeded 
my Lady Shrewsbury in point of discretion, by robbing her 
husband ! I see wives do not love devoute husbands, which 
reason this woman had, besides many more, as I heare, to be 
rid of her husband, upon any tearmes, and so I wish her a 
good journey. I finde, by the letters from Trevor, that they 
are allarumed in france, that I intende something against Den- 
markc, with the flcctc that I am now setting out. I do 
assure you there never was any such intention, for I am now 
sending most of the great ships into harbour, which are now 
only a charge, the peace at Aix being concluded, and I shall 
have this summer at sea only the ordinary summer guarde. I 
shall say no more to you now, only desire you to have the 
same goodnesse for James you had the last time, and to chide 
him soundly when he does not that he should do. He 
intendes to put on a perriwig againe, when he comes to Paris, 
but I beleeve you will thinke him better farr, as I do, with his 
short haire, and so I am intierly yours. C. R." 

The Duke of Monmouth's first visit to Paris had been 
interrupted by a sudden recall to England, owing to his wife's 
accident. Now that she was restored to health he returned to 
France towards the end of June, and was present at \he. fetes 
given at Versailles that summer. But Henrietta, mindful of 
Monsieur's jealousy on 'the last occasion, had thought it well 



266 MONSIEUR'S JEALOUSY. 

to give her brother a warning to this effect before the Duke's 
departure. This is the "ridiculous fancy" to which Charles 
alludes in the next letter, in which he deplores, with good 
reason, the trifling causes that were allowed to make poor 
Madame's life miserable. The subject on which he desired 
his son to confer with her was evidently her wish to pay her 
brother a visit, " which, if it comes to pass, will be the greatest 
happiness to me imaginable." But this meeting, which both 
the brother and sister desired so ardently, was not to take 
place for more than two years. 

"Whithall, 

" 11 Jiuie 1668. 

" I did not receave your letter by Church till yesterday, 
and am very sorry that the occasion of your iust trouble con- 
tinues. Ruvigny was gone before I receaved your letter, so 
as I could not say anything to him ; therfore you must give 
me new directions what I am to do. I understand your letter 
of the 26, and by it perseave the ridiculous fancy that comes 
in to some people's head, but I cannot chuse but be troubled 
at it, when I consider what small occasions furnish matter to 
give you unquiett howers. I did order James to speake with 
you about one part of the commands you layd upon Trevor, 
which, if we can bring to passe, will be the greatest happy- 
nesse to me imaginable. I have had but little time yett to 
speake with Trevor, so, as for publique affaires, I deferr speak- 
ing of till I returne from sheerenesse, where I am going this 
afternoone, and shall not be heere againe till the end of the 
weeke, which is all I shall say at this time, only to assure you 
that I am, with all the kindnesse imaginable, Yours. 

" C. R." 



CHAPTER XX 
1 668 

File of ^'el•sailles — M.idame's Domestic Troubles — A Double Treaty between 
France and England proposed— Terms of Alliance between the two Kings 
secretly discussed — Plans of Louis XIV. against Holland — Charles II.'s 
intended Profession of the Roman Catholic Faith. 

The great y?/^ of Versailles took place on the i8th of July 
It was nominally given by Louis XIV. to celebrate the con- 
clusion of the Peace of Aix-Ia-Chapelle, but in reality to do 
honour to his new mistress, Madame de Montespan. Madame 
de Sevignc, who was among the three hundred ladies invited 
to the King's tabic, has described its splendour, and La 
Fontaine, in his fable of Psyche, has painted the wonders of 
the vast gardens, which on that day were thrown open to the 
public. Architects and landscape gardeners had been busily 
employed in extending the grounds, and new porticoes and 
grottoes, adorned with countless statues, had arisen in all 
directions. Visits were paid to the beautiful orangery, which 
La Fontaine calls a very garden of Hesperides, to the 
menagerie, with its rare birds from Asia and Africa, to the 
famous grotto of Thetis, the cJief d'oeiivre of the sculptor's art. 
There, on a colossal bas-relief cut in the rock, a golden sun, 
the King's favourite device, was seen setting in the waves of 
the sea, surrounded by Tritons and Sirens, that gushed with 
streams of water, while life-size statues of Apollo and the 
Muses adorned the sides of the grotto. This singular creation 
was destroyed by Louis XIV. before the end of his reign, in 
order to build a new wing on to the palace. But, at the time 
of this fete, it was one of the great sights of the place, and 
excited the admiration of all the visitors, including La 

Fontaine and his friends. The afternoon was spent in drives 

267 



268 FETE DE VERSAILLES 

over the park, songs and dances under the trees beguiled the 
hours till nightfall. Then Moli^re's new play, Georges Dandin, 
was performed in the theatre, with musical interludes com- 
posed by LuUi, and, after a sumptuous banquet in the great 
gallery, a superb display of fireworks took place. While the 
King led the dancing within, the magical effect of illuminated 
fountains and gardens enchanted the crowds without. The 
Duke of Monmouth left Paris the next day for England, 
where Charles II. was eagerly awaiting his description of these 
brilliant scenes. On the 8th of July, O.S., he wrote to 
Madame. 

"Whithall, 

''ZJuUy 1668. 

" I cannot say much to you yett, in answer to the letters 
you have writt to me, concerning the good correspondence 
you desire there should be betweene the King of France and 
me. I am very glad to find, by your letters as well as 
Trevor's relations, the inclinations there is to meete with the 
constante desire I have allwayes had, to make a stricter 
alliance with France then there has hitherto been, and pray 
say all to the king you ought to say from me, in returne of 
the kindnesse he expresses towards me, and when M. de 
Colbert comes, I hope he will have those powers as will 
finish what we all desire, and be assured that whatsoever 
negociation there is betweene France and me, you shall 
ajwayes have that part in it as they shall see the valew and 
kindnesse I have for you. One thing I desire you to take as 
much as you can out of the king of France' head, that my 
ministers are any thing but what I will have them, and that 
they have no parciallity but to my interest and the good of 
England. 

" I shall not say any thing upon the letter you writt to me 
by Mon"" de Boisiolly, till I have a more sure way to write 
then by the post, only I cannot chuse but say that I am sorry 
there can be so much impertinence in the world, as I see upon 
that subject. We are heere in great expectation of the rela- 
tion of the entertainment at Versailles, I hope James will be 
the first mesenger that will bring it, and so I am yours. 

"C. R." 



THE CHEVALIER DE LORRAINE. 269 

Colbert de Croissy was a brother of Louis XIV.'s minister, 
who had now been sent as ambassador to England. The 
letter in which Charles announces his arrival contains an in- 
teresting allusion to Madame's domestic troubles. After 
Monmouth's departure, Monsieur seems to have changed his 
conduct for the better, and to have become ashamed of his 
childish behaviour. But the true cause of all these dissen- 
sions, the Chevalier de Lorraine, still exerted his evil influence 
over Monsieur, and as long as he remained under her roof, 
Henrietta knew that she had no hope of peace or happiness 
in her home. Under the circumstances, Charles's advice was 
probably the best which could be given her. She determined 
to tolerate the Chevalier's presence for the moment as a 
necessary evil, but to take the first opportunity she could find 
of freeing herself from this insupportable personage. 

"Whithall, 

"3 At/gust 1668. 
" I have received so many letters of yours by James and 
his company, as you will not expect a punctuall answer to all 
the particulars by this post, and besides, there are many 
thinges which I will expect to answer by a surer way then 
the post. I am very glad to finde by you, and what James 
sayes to me, the inclination and intention the king, my brother, 
has to enter into a stricter frindeship with me. I am sure I 
have all the inclinations towards it, that ether he or you can 
desire in that matter, and when Mon"" Colbert comes, he shall 
find nothing wanting on my part. I wish with all my hart, 
that the propositions which Ruvigny sent, long since when he 
was heere, had receaved that answer which I might reason- 
ably have expected. They would have then seene, that 
whatsoever opinion my ministers had been of, I would and do 
alvvayes follow my owne judgement, and if they take any 
other mesures then that, they will see themselves mistaken 
in the end. I will say no more to you now, but expect 
Mon"" Colbert, and I assure you the kindnesse I have for you 
will always make me do all I can to have a very good under- 
standing with the country where you are, for there is nothing 
more at my hart then the letting you see, by all the wayes I 
can, how truly I love you. C. R." 



270 A NEW AMBASSADOR. 

"Whithall, 

''c)Aug. 1668. 

" I take the occasion of this bearer to say some thinges to 
you, which I would not send by the post, and to tell you that 
I am very glad that Mon^ begins to be ashamed of his ridicul- 
ous fancyes ; you ought undoutedly to over see wiiat is past, 
so that, for the future, he will leave being of those fantasticall 
humours, and I thinke the lesse eclairecissemetit there is upon 
such kind of matters, the better for his frind the Chevalier. 
I thinke you have taken a very good resolution not to live so 
with him, but that, when there offers a good occasion, you 
may ease your selfe of such a rival, and by the carracter I 
have of him, there is hopes he will find out the occasion him- 
selfe, which, for M^'s sake, I wish may be quickly. Mr 
Colbert is come, and I saw him in privat last night, we only 
discoursed in generall termes about what he comes, so as I 
can only tell you that I sayd those thinges concerning you 
as I beleeve he will acquaint his master with by to-morrow 
post, by which you will perceave the valew and kindnesse I 
have for you. I shall write to-morrow, to you, by the post, 
so I will add no more, but that upon all occasions, you may 
be most assured, that I will lett you see how truly I am 
Yours. C. R." 

" Whithall, 
''2d Sep. 1668. 

" You judge very well, when you conclude that I am satis- 
fied with Mon"' Colbert, and I wish with all my harte that 
france had been as forwarde in there intentions towards us 
when Ruvigny was heere, as I see they are now. I should 
not have been so embarrassed with the ties I am now under 
if the offers I then made had been accepted : my inclinations 
are still the same, and I hope in the end to bring all things 
to what I wish, but there are two impediments in the way, 
which at least do retarde the inclinations there is, on both 
sides, to have an intier union. The first is, the great applyca- 
tion there is at this time in France to establish trade, and to 
be very considerable at sea, which is so jealous a point to us 
heere, who can be only considerable by our trade and power 



COL]?ERT DE CROISSY. 27 1 

by sea, as any steps that P'rance makes that way, must con- 
tinue a jealousy betweene the two Nations, which will, upon 
all occasions, be a great hinderance to an intire frindship. 
And you cannot chuse but beleeve that it must be dangerous 
to me at home to make an intire league, till first the great 
and principale interest of this nation be secured, which is 
trade. The other difficulty is the treatyes I am entred into of 
late, which I am sure the King, my brother, would not have 
me violate upon any termes, since he has given me the good 
example of being a martire to his word. But when I have 
sayd this, I do beleeve we are not so tied, as if we receaved 
satisfaction ; on the principal matter of the sea, there is scope 
sufficient for a very neere alliance. I am sure, as my inclina- 
tions carryes me to it, so I will use all my endeavours to 
bring it to passe. I have had some discourses with Mr 
Colbert upon the subject of this letter, and have enlarged my 
selfe more fully to him than I can do in a letter, and now I 
must tell you that I am very well satisfied with him, and 
thinke him as proper an Ambassadore for this place as could 
have been chosen. I have, upon all occasions, lett him know 
the kindnesse I have for you, and that, if I had no other in- 
clination to France but your being there, it would be a 
sufficient motive to make me desire passionatly a stricte 
union with them. 

'' I am going to-morrow to Bagshott to hunt the stag, and 
shall not be heere againe till Saturday come sennight, intend- 
ing likewise to take Portsmouth in my returne, to see the 
fortifications that have lately been made there, and what is 
farther to be done. The Comte de Chappelles will tell you of 
all the little newes heere, so as I shall not trouble you with 
it. I have been so civil! to him as I could, both upon your 
recommendations and the kindnesse Monsieur has for him, 
and besides that, he hath a great deale of merritt of his owne, 
and I hope he is not ill satisfied with us heere. I hope you 
will not finde faute with the shortnesse of this letter, and if 
you are but as sleepy at the reading of it as I am at the 
writing, I am certaine you will thinke it long enough, and 
therefore, my dearest sister, I will only assure you that I am 
intierly Yours. C. R." 



2/2 TREATY OF COMMERCE. 

The negotiations now proceeded briskly. First of all, the 
Treaty of Commerce was to be drawn up, after which a 
Treaty of Alliance was to be concluded between the two 
Kings. Louis XIV. took care to pave the way by the 
promise of liberal gifts to Charles II.'s favourites, and when 
Buckingham's emissary, Sir Ellis Leighton, came to Paris 
with letters from the King, he bestowed a present worth 2000 
pistoles upon him. Madame de Monaco, whose departure 
for her husband's principality is mentioned by Charles, was 
Madame's intimate friend, the Comte de Guiche's sister. 
This lady had long enjoyed Louis XIV.'s friendship, but 
recently she had been involved in an intrigue with Lauzun, 
which had aroused the King's jealousy, and made her think it 
wiser to retire from Court for a while. 

" Whithall, 

" 14 Sep. 1668. 

" At my returne from Portsmouth, I found two of yours, 
one by the post, and the other by M' Lambert, with the 
gloves, for which I thanke you extreamely. They are as 
good as is possible to smell, and in the other letter, you 
accuse me most justly for my failing towards you, which I do 
ingeniously confesse, as most people do, to their gostly father, 
and as ofTten fall into the same sinn againe. I hope I shall 
not be so fauty for the time to come, haveing now done stag 
hunting for this yeare, which now and then made me so 
weary, as with the naturall lazinesse I have towards writting, 
gave me occasion to misse offtener than otherwise I would 
have done. The reason why I begin with the treaty of com- 
merce is because I must enter first upon those matters 
which will render the rest more plausible heere, for you know 
that the thing which is neerest the harte of the Nation is 
trade and all that belongs to it. But I shall not enter 
farther upon this matter now, because I have done it fully by 
de Chapelles, who will be with you before this time. And, 
you may be sure, that I will continue my care to lett them 
see the power you have over me, and how much my kindnesse 
to you adds to my inclination to live allwayes very well with 
P^rance. I am very sorry that M'""-" de Monaco goes yclt 



HARRY KILLIGREW. 273 

farther distance from England. Since she thinkes the douceurs 
I sent her in your letter not enough, if she comes with )^ou 
into England, I hope to serve her at a nearer distance then I 
can do at Monaco. I do intend to go to Newmarkett the last 
day of this month, at which place, and at Audely End, I shall 
stay neere a month. My wife goes to the latter of these 
places at the same time, which is all I will trouble with at 
this time, but to assure you that 'tis impossible to have more 
kindnesse and tendernesse then I have for you. C. R." 

"VVhithall, 

"3 Oct. 1668. 

" I have received yours of the 7th from Vincenes but just 
this moment, as the post is goeing away, and therefore can 
say nothing to you now. The paper in your letter, referring 
to a treaty which I never saw, it being made when I was P. of 
Wales, and at a great distance from the King, my father, I 
shall imediatly looke out for that treaty, but for feare I shall 
not be able to finde a copy of it heere, it being made in a 
disorderly time, pray gett a copy of it, and send it imediatly 
hither, that so there may be no time lost. In the meane 
time, I shall only add, that I am very glad to see the King, 
my brother, so ready to make a good frindship with me, and 
pray assure him, that nothing can be more welcome to me 
than a strict frindship betweene us. I have no more time 
left me, only to assure you that I am intierly Yours. 

"C. R." 

"Whithall, 

"17 Oct. 1668. 

" I hope you will pardon the faute I am in towards you, 
in point of writing to you of late, when you consider the 
multitude of businesse is now upon my hands by the altera- 
tion I have made, and the Parlament now sitting, and though 
there anger may make them a little froward to particular 
persons, yett in the end I dout not but they will do what 
they ought to do towards me. For Harry Killigrew, you 
may see him as you please, and though I cannot commende 
my L^y Shrewsbury's conduct in many things, yett Mr Killi- 
grew's carriage towards her has been worse then I will re- 

S 



274 LETTERS OF CHARLES IL 

peate, and for his denield with my L'^ of Buckingham, he 
ought not to brag of, for it was in all sorts most abominable. 
I am glad the poore wrech has gott a meanes of subsistance, 
but have one caution of him, that you beleeve not one word 
' he sayes of us heere, for he is a most notorious lyar, and does 
not want witt to sett forth his storyes pleasantly enough. I 
am very glad that Monsieur is so well recovered. Pray make 
my compliments to him with all imaginable kindnesse. I 
shall write to you by the Duchesse of Richmond, with greater 
freedome then I am willing to do by the post, for feare of 
miscarrying, and so will say no more to you now, but the 
assuring you of the constant tendernesse and kindnesse I 
have for you. C. R." 

"Whithall, 

"14 Decern. 1668. 

" He that came last, and delivered me your letter of the 
9th, has given me a full account of what he was charged with 
and I am very well pleased with what he tells me. I will 
answer the other letter he brought to me very quickly. I am 
sure it shall not be my faute if all be not as you can wish. I 
will send you a cypher by the first safe occasion, and you 
shall then know the way I thinke most proper to proceede 
in the whole matter, which I hope will not displease you. I 
will say no more by the post upon this businesse, for you 
know 'tis not very sure. 

" I do intende to prorogue the Parlament till October 
next, before which time I shall have sett my affaires in that 
posture as there will not be so many miscarriages to be 
hunted after, as in the last sessions. I beg your pardon for 
forgetting, in my last, to thanke you for the petticote you 
sent me, 'tis the finest I ever saw, and thanke you a thousand 
times for it. I can say no more to you now, for I am calld 
to goe to the Play, and so I am intierly yours. 

"C. R." 

The King's next letter contains an allusion to an incident 
which had made a great noise at the French Court, and was 
by no means pleasing to Madame. A strange adventurer, the 
Chevalier de Rohan, who had already distinguished himself 



"THE GREAT SECRET." 2/5 

by helping Madame cle Mazarin in her nocturnal flight, now 
came forward as the avenger of Madame's wrongs. He 
dared the Chevalier de Lorraine to fight, and struck him in 
the presence of witnesses, in order to compel him to accept 
his challenge. Henrietta, alarmed at the prospect of a duel 
on her account, appealed to Louis XIV., who sent the Due 
de Noailles to reconcile the angry knights, and Louis de 
Rohan was forced to own himself in the wrong. 

"Whithall, 

"27 Decern. 1668. 

" You must yett expect a day or two for an answer to 
what Leighton brought, because I send it by a safe way, and 
you know how much secrecy is necessary for the carrying on 
of the businesse, and I assure you that nobody does, nor shall, 
know anything of it heere, but my selfe and that one person 
more, till it be fitt to be publique, which will not be till all 
matters are agreed upon. In the meane time, I must tell 
you that I receaved yours of the 26th of this month, and the 
2 of Jan : just now, and am very glad that the Chevalier de 
Rohan has that mortification put upon him, by your desire, 
for it will make others have a care of their behaviour towards 
you, and I do not wonder that the princesse de bade makes 
her selfe so well beloved, for she cannot chuse but be well 
natured, comming from such a mother as she does. I must 
confesse, I would rather have had you stayd some monthes 
before you had been with childe, for reasons you will know 
shortly, but I hope it will be for your advantage, and then I 
shall be glad of it. I shall say no more now, only wish you a 
good new yeare, which, if it proove as happy to you as I wish, 
you will have no reason to complayne. C. R." 

In this letter, Charles insists on the secrecy necessary to 
the success of his plans. Neither Colbert nor Montagu were 
to be admitted into what he calls " the great secret." Their 
share in the negotiations was strictly limited to the Commer- 
cial Treaty, which they were engaged in drawing up, with all 
the minute care and attention necessary for the preservation 
of mutual interests. Meanwhile, the correspondence respect- 



2/6 THE SECRET TREATY. 

ing the Secret Treaty was conducted entirely by Madame. 
For some time Charles would not admit any of his own 
ministers into his confidence, but by degrees, Arlington and 
Buckingham were allowed a partial acquaintance with the 
substance of the Treaty. Of the French ministers, only 
Lionne and Louvois were in the secret, while Turenne was 
afterwards consulted on certain points on which his military 
knowledge was required. The articles of the Treaty, as 
Charles veiy well knew, were not likely to meet with popular 
approval in England, and the greatest caution would be 
necessary in their execution. In the first place, Charles was 
to join the French King in the invasion of Holland, and co- 
operate with his forces, both by sea and land, on condition 
of receiving large yearly subsidies as long as the war lasted, 
and an ultimate share in the spoils of the conquered provinces. 
In the second place, the King of England agreed to make 
a public confession of his conversion to the Roman Catholic 
faith. Louis XIV. promised to pay down a large sum of 
money, and to give him further supplies of men and money, 
in case his action should produce troubles among his subjects. 
The question whether Charles himself was sincere in his 
intention of abjuring Protestantism, has been much disputed. 
There seems to be no doubt that his personal sympathies were 
entirely in favour of the Roman Catholic faith. It was the 
religion professed by his mother and sister, the two persons 
whom he loved best. And he had long ago come to the 
conclusion, as he told the French ambassador, that no other 
creed agreed so well with the absolute authority and divine 
right of kings. The Duke of York had already privately 
declared himself a Catholic, and, early in 1669, Charles 
secretly acknowledged himself a member of the same Church, 
in the presence of his brother, Lord Arundel and Sir Thomas 
Clifford. But no one was better aware of the difficulties which 
lay in the way of any public declaration of his belief. He 
knew the fanatical feeling of his subjects against Popery, and 
had no wish, as he expressed it, to be sent on his travels a 
second time. Accordingly, the policy which he pursued was 
to defer his public profession of Catholicism for the present, 
hoping, by this means, to gain time and money, without finally 



MADAME CONDUCTS THE NEGOTIATIONS. 2/7 

committing himself to a step which might entail his ruin. 
But, in order to discuss all these questions fully, a meeting 
with his sister was desirable. Henrietta herself had long 
wished to pay a visit to England, and Charles was exceed- 
ingly disappointed to hear that her state of health would 
delay her journey for the present. As for Madame's share in 
the negotiations, it is easy to understand the satisfaction 
which she felt in effecting a closer union between the two 
Kings, to whom she was so closely related. The hope of 
seeing the brother, whom she loved so dearly, embrace that 
faith which she had been taught to regard as the only hope 
of salvation, was, in her eyes, a still deeper cause of happiness. 
It is impossible to blame her, as many writers have done, for 
the eagerness which she showed in the pursuit of these ends. 
We are, on the contrary, rather inclined to admire the talents, 
the courage, and the unwearying perseverance with which 
this Princess of five-and-twenty conducted these delicate and 
important negotiations, without ever losing sight of the great 
issues that were at stake. 



CHAPTER XXI 

1669 

Secret Negotiations continued — The Abbe Pregnani sent to England — Madame 
corresponds with Buckingham and Arlington — Last Letters from Charles 
n. to his Sister. 

Among all the envoys who were employed in these prolonged 
negotiations, and who went to and fro with letters from 
Charles II, and Madame during the course of the next year, 
none had a stranger part to play than the Italian astrologer, 
the Abbe Pregnani, This Theatine monk had already attracted 
great attention by telling fortunes in Paris, and had cast the 
Duke of Monmouth's horoscope, and that of the chief person- 
ages at Court, during the past summer. He was now sent to 
England with a double object. On the one hand, his presence 
afforded a safe channel of communication between the two 
Kings, while on the other, as Lionne explained to Colbert, his 
astrological forecasts were intended to impress the English 
Court with the advantage of the Trench alliance. Pregnani 
was accordingly introduced by Monmouth to the King at 
Newmarket, and proceeded to cast his horoscope. But Charles 
was of too shrewd and incredulous a nature to be taken in by 
arts of this kind. " Cattle of this sort," he tells his sister 
plainly, are little to his taste. The less you have to do with 
tliem the better. But he treated the would-be astrologer 
with his usual good-nature, and was much amused when 
certain predictions, which Pregnani had ventured to make as 
to the winning horses at Newmarket, proved false. On the 
20th of January, Charles wrote the following letter, in answer 
to one which the Italian Abbe, whose name and capacity 
were not yet known to him, had brought from France. 

278 



THE SECRET TREATY. 2/9 

"Whithall, 

" 20 Jan. '69. 

" You will see, by the letter which I have written to the 
King, my brother, the desire I have to enter into a personall 
frindship with him, and to unite our interests so, for the future, 
as there may never be any jealousys betweene us. The only 
thing which can give any impediment to what we both desire 
is the matter of the Sea, which is so essenciall a point to us 
heere, as an union upon any other security can never be last- 
ing, nor can I be answerable to my kingdomes, if I should 
enter into an alliance, wherein there present and future 
security were not fully provided for. I am now thinkeing of 
the way how to proceede in this whole matter, which must be 
caried on with all secrecy imaginable, till the particulars are 
farther agreed upon. I must confesse, I was not very glad to 
heare you were with childe, because I had a thought by your 
making a journey hither, all things might have been adjusted, 
without any suspicion, and as I shall be very just to the King, 
my brother, in never mentioning what has past betweene us, 
in case this negociation does not succeede as I desire so I expect 
the same justice and generosity from him, that no advances 
which I make out of the desire I have to obtaine a true frind- 
ship between us, may ever turne to my prejudice. I send you, 
heere inclosed, my letter to the King, my brother, desireing that 
this matter might passe through your handes, as the person in 
the world I have most confidence in, and I am very glad to 
finde that Mon*" de Turene is so much your frinde, who I 
esteeme very much, and assure my selfe will be very usefuU in 
this negociation. I had written thus farr, when I receaved 
yours by the Italian, whose name and capacity you do not 
know, and he delivred your letter to me, in a passage, where it 
was so darke, as I do not know his face againe if I see him ; 
so as the man is likely to succeede, when his recommendation 
and reception are so sutable to one another ! But to returne 
to the businesse of the letter, I assure you that there is no 
league entered into as yett with the Empereur. The only 
league I am in, is the garanty I am engaged in with the 
Hollanders upon the peace at Aix, which is equall}' bindeing 
towards both the Crownes. I thinke M"^ de Lorraine deser\'es 



28o A CYPHER ADOPTED. 

to be punished for his unquiett humour, but I wish the King, 
my brother, do not proceede too farr in that matter, least he 
gives a jealousy to his neighbours, that he intends a farther 
progresse than what he declared at first, which might be very 
prejudicial! to what you and I wish and endeavour to com- 
passe. And you shall not want, upon all occasions, full 
informations necessary, but we must have a great care what we 
write by the post, least it fall into hands which may hinder 
our design, for I must againe conjure you, that the whole 
matter be an absolut secrett, other wise we shall never compasse 
the end we aime at. I have not yett absolutly contrived how 
to proceede in this businesse, because there must be all pos- 
sible precautions used, that it may not ^clater, before all things 
be agreed upon, and pray do you thinke of all the wayes you 
can to the same end, and communicate them to me. I send 
you heere a cypher, which is very easy and secure, the first 
side is the single cypher, and within such names I could thinke 
of necessary to our purpose. I have no more to add, but that 
I am entierly Yours. C. R." 

Louis XIV.'s intended expedition against the Duke of 
Lorraine, to which Charles here alludes as already exciting 
the alarm of the other European powers, was deferred for the 
present, and the conquest of that principality did not take 
place until two years later. 

On the 1 2th of February, Madame addressed a long letter 
to Sir Ellis Leighton, which was intended to soothe Bucking- 
ham's offended pride, and assure him of the French King's 
good-will, and confidence in his assistance in these negotia- 
tions. The Duke had got wind of the large share which 
Madame had in the business, from his sister, Lady Mary 
Villiers, who, as maid-of-honour to the Queen-mother, was 
aware of the frequent conferences that were held at Colombes 
between Louis XIV. and his sister-in-law. His indignation 
was great at the moment, and he declared loudly that he had 
been duped by Charles and his sister ; but the costly presents 
which were offered him by the French ambassador, and a 
few judicious compliments from Madame, soon allayed his 
childish vanity. 



THE DUKE OF I3UCKINGHAM. 28I 

"I have shown your letter," wrote Henrietta, "to the 
King, who assures me that, even before seeing it, he was con- 
vinced of the Duke's good intentions, zeal and activity on his 
behalf. He is equally aware that all Crofts's advances, on 
behalf of Lord Arlington, must be regarded with suspicion, 
since the man's attachment to the Dutch and his inclination to- 
wards Spain are too well known, and the King is convinced that 
he can only rely on the Duke's help in the matter. So certain 
is he on this point, that he has told me he would give up the 
whole thing if the Duke were to change his feelings. He will 
send his Ambassador word, next Wednesday, to act on these 
principles, and not to put any trust in the proposals and 
promises that are made to him from this quarter, but to aban- 
don himself entirely to the Duke's judgment, and never mis- 
trust his good-will, even if he does not mention the subject 
for weeks. I forgot to tell you, that you need not fear lest 
the Ambassador should entertain jealousy of Ruvigny, or of 
any one else, for that he wishes the Duke to have the sole 
glory of success, and will never put any trust in Arlington's 
proposals. The sooner you can induce the King, my brother, 
to be open with the Ambassador, the better it will be, as 
regards the Duke's wish to engage all parties so far in the 
affair that there can be no withdrawal. Or, if he prefers it, 
he might send you back here, or anyone else whom he may 
choose, since the King begs me to let him know, that all who 
come from him, about this business, will be welcome." 

This proof of confidence naturally flattered Buckingham, 
who wrote again on the 17th, in answer to another note which 
she had sent him, saying that he had obeyed her orders, and 
seen Colbert, but had not dared to discuss the subject with 
him, without his master's leave. 

" I have burnt your note," he adds, " and beg you to believe, 
that the strongest desire I have in this world is to obey you. 
For the love of God, do not be impatient, and consider that 
in a place where measures must be taken to gain the goodwill 
of the people, one cannot act with so much dispatch as might 
be wished." 

But the confidence which Charles H. and Madame placed 
in Buckingham was less absolute than he supposed. The 



282 LORD ARUNDEL'S MISSION. 

King urged the need of caution, with regard to the Duke, 
repeatedly on his sister, and never allowed him to hear a 
word of the religious question, which formed so important an 
article of the treaty. The Duke of York, having lately 
informed the King of his own change of religion, was now 
admitted into the secret, as well as another Roman Catholic 
peer. Lord Arundel, who was now sent to Paris with Sir 
Richard Bellings. Charles now adopted a cipher in his cor- 
respondence with his sister, but a key, which has been pre- 
served in the French Archives, explains the meaning of most 
of the numbers which he employs. The interpretation, how- 
ever, is not always easy, and, if the key is correct, different 
figures often stand for the same word. 

On the 7th of March he wrote again, on the eve of going 
to Newmarket : — 

" Whithall, 

" 7 March 1669. 

" I am to go, to-morrow morning, to Newmarkett, at three 
a clocke, and kept this expresse till now, to know what the 
King, my brother, would do with Douglas his regiment, which 
I perceave, by yours that I receaved this day, does not go to 
Candie, which I take as a great marke of the King, my 
brother's, kindnesse to me, and pray lett him know so much 
from me, and assure him that it was not anything for Douglas 
his sake, that I desired so earnestly his stay, but for reasons 
which he shall know within very {&\n dayes. I have dis- 
patched this night the Earl of St. Albans to Lord Arundel, 
who is fully instructed as you can wish. You will see by him, 
the reason why I desired you to write to nobody heere, of the 
businesse of France, but to my selfe ; he has some private 
businesse of his owne to dispatch before he leaves this towne, 
but he will certaynely sett out this weeke. But pray take no 
notice of his haveing any commission from me, for he pretends 
to go only upon his owne score, to attend the queene. You 
need not feare anything concerning Hamilton, for there is no- 
body as like to burne there fingers but those who medle in 
businesse, and he does not come in that trap, liut I see you 
are misse informed if you thinke I trust my L^' of Ormond lesse 



ABUi; PREGNANI. 283 

than I did. There are other considerations which makes me 
send my L^ Robarts into Ireland, which are too long for a 
letter. I am not sorry that S' Will : Coventry has given me 
this good occasion, by sending my L*^ of Buckingham a 
chalenge, to turne him out of the Councill. I do intend 
to turn him allso out of the Tresury. The truth of it is, 
he has been a troublesome man in both places, and I am 
well rid of him. You may be sure that I will keepe the secrett 
of your profctt. I give little creditt to such kinde of cattle, 
and the lesse you do it the better, for if they could tell any- 
thing 'tis inconvenient to know one's fortune before hand, 
whether good or bad, and so, my dearest sister, good-night, 
for 'tis late, and I have not above three howers to sleepe this 
night. C. R. 

" I had almost forgott to tell you, that I find your frind, 
I'Abbe Pregnany, a man very ingenious in all things I have 
talked with him upon, and I find him to have a great deale of 
witt, but you may be sure I will enter no farther with him 
than according to your carracter." 

Charles probably means that he has no intention to trust 
the Italian with any secrets of state, and will only have deal- 
ings with him in that capacity of astrologer, in which he was 
best known to Madame. The King's next two letters, written 
from Newmarket on the 12th and 22d of March, give an 
amusing account of the Abbe's experiences there. 

" I have had very good sport heere since Monday last, both 
by hunting and horse-races. L'Abbe Pregnany is heere, and 
wonders very much at the pleasure everybody takes at the 
races, he was so weary with riding from Audly End hither, to 
see the foot-match, as he is scarce recovered yett. I have been 
a fox hunting this day and am very weary, yett the wether is 
so good, as my brother has perswaded me to see his fox- 
hounds runn to-morrow, and at night I am to lye at Saxum, 
(Lord Croft's), where I shall stay Sunday, and so come hither 
gaine, and not returne to London, till the latter end of next 
weeke. This bearer, my L*^ Rochester, has a minde to 
make a- little journy to Paris, and would not kiss your hands 
without a letter from me ; pray use him as one I have a very 



2 84 NEWMARKET. 

good opinion of; you will find him not to want witt, and did 
behave him selfe, in all the duch warr, as well as any body, as 
a volunteer. I have no more to add, but that I am intierly 
yours. C. R." 

"Whithall, 

"22 A f arch 1669. 

" I came from Newmarkett, the day before yesterday, 
where we had as fine wether as we could wish, which added 
much both to the horse matches, as well as to hunting. 
L'abb^ Pregnani was there most part of the time, and I 
believe will give you some account of it, but not that he lost 
his money upon confidence that the Starrs could tell which 
horse would winn, for he had the ill luck to foretell three times 
wrong together, and James beleeved him so much, as he lost 
his mony upon the same score. I had not my cypher at New- 
markett, when I receaved yours of the i6th, so as I could say 
nothing to you in answer to it till now, and before this comes 
to your hands, you will cleerly see upon what score 363 (the 
Duke of York) is come into the businesse, and for what 
reason I desired you not to write to anybody upon the 
businesse of 271 (France), 341 (Buckingham) knows nothing 
of 360's (Charles II.), intentions towards 290, 315 (the 
Catholic religion), nor of the person 334 (Charles II.) sends to 
roo (the King of France), and you need not feare that he will 
take it ill that 103 (Lord Arundel) does not write to him, for 
I have tould him that I have forbid 129 (Arundel) to do it, for 
feare of intercepting of letters, nor indeed is there much use 
of our writing much upon this subject, because letters may 
miscarry, and you are, before his time, so fully acquainted with 
all, as there is nothing more to be added, till my messenger 
comes back. You have councilled Monsieur very well in the 
matter of Mr dc Rohan, I never heard of a more impertinent 
carriage then his. I had not time to write to you by father 
Paterique, for he tooke the resolution of going to France but 
the night before I left this place, but now I desire you to be 
kinde to the poore man, for he is an honest a man as lives, 
and pray direct your phisisian to have a care of him, for I 
should really be troubled if he should not do well. What you 



" mam's ill luck." 285 

sent by Mercer is lost, for there are letters come, that informes 
of his setting saile from havre, in an open cJialloupe, with 
intention to come to portsmouth, and we have never heard of 
him since, so he is undoutedly drownd. I heare Mam sent 
me a present by him, which, I beleeve, brought him the ill 
lucke, so as she ought, in conscience, to be at the charges of 
praying for his soule, for 'tis her fortune has made the man 
miscarry ! and so, my dearest sister, I am yours, with all the 
kindnesse and tendernesse imaginable. C. R." 

"Whithall, 

"25 A prill 1669. 

" I find by 405 (Arlington) that he does beleeve there is 
some businesse with 271 (France), which he knovves nothing 
of; he tould 341 (Buckingham) that I had forbidden you to 
write to him, by which he beleeved there was some mistery in 
the matter, but Buckingham was not at all alarumed at it, 
because it was by his owne desire that I writt that to you, 
but how 371 (Arlington) comes to know that, I cannot tell: 
It will be good that you write some times to 393 (Leighton) 
in generall termes, that he may not suspect that there is 
farther negociations then what he knovves of, but pray have a 
care you do not say any thing to him, which may make him 
thinke that I have imployed any body to 152 (the King) 
which he is to know nothing of, because by the messenger he 
may suspect that there is something of 290, 315 (the Catholic 
religion's) interest in the case, which is a matter he must not 
be acquainted with. Therfore you must have a great care, 
not to say the least thing that may make him suspect any- 
thing of it. I had writt thus farr before I had heard of your 
fall, which puts me in great paine for you, and shall not be 
out of it, till I know that you have receaved no prejudice by 
it. I go to-morrow to Newmarkett for 6 dayes, and shall be, 
in the meanetime, very impatient to heare from you, for I can 
be at no rest when you are not well, and so, my dearest sister, 
have a care of your selfe, as you have any kindnesse for me. 

" C, R." 

The premature confinement, which had nearly cost Henri- 



286 MADAME AS FLORA. 

etta her life, two years before, had rendered the utmost caution 
necessary, now that she was again expecting the birth of a 
child. She had been well enough to take part in the Carnival 
fetes, and had figured, for the last time in her life, in a royal 
ballet, as Flora, the goddess of Spring. Crowned with roses, 
and clad in a white robe, wreathed with flowers, she had re- 
ceived the homage of the four quarters of the globe. These, led 
by Louis XIV. as Europe, had all in turn saluted her as their 
Queen. But after that, she had been obliged to resign herself 
to a quiet life, and often spent whole days in bed. The fall, 
however, which Charles mentions, produced no evil conse- 
quences, and on the loth of May, Monsieur, writing from 
Saint-Germain, where the Court spent the summer, was able 
to give a good account of his wife's health. 

" There is so little news at this moment, that I have only 
trifles hardly worth mentioning to tell you. What people 
talk of mostly here, and what we are told has made a great 
noise in England, through the report of the Spanish Ambas- 
sador, is the camp at Maisons, two leagues from here. The 
King has assembled 6000 men, merely for his own amuse- 
ment, and by no means to besiege Cambray, as we hear they 
are saying in Flanders. The number of men would be too 
small for so strong a place, and I can assure you that no one 
dreams of such a thing. What other news we have here, 
chiefly concerns ladies and excursions of pleasure. The best 
thing I have to tell you, is that your sister is very well, con- 
sidering her condition, and that she has not suffered from her 
fall. For such a dull letter this one is long enough ! I beg 
your pardon for troubling you, and hope you will believe no 
one could be more truly yours than I am." 

Madame seems to have devoted this enforced leisure, 
which was so distasteful to her natural vivacity, almost en- 
tirely to her English correspondence. She wrote two or three 
times a week to her brother, and at intervals addressed letters 
to his ministers, Buckingham and Arlington. In his next 
letters, Charles insists again on the need of secrecy, and alto- 
gether refuses to admit the French Ambassador, Colbert, to 
the knowledge of what he calls "the main business." He 
also tries to remove iiis sister's distrust of Arlington, who. 



ABnf: PREGNANI. 28/ 

although in the first place averse to an alliance with France, 
had now adopted the King's views and was, by degrees, to be 
admitted to a larger share of his confidence. 
On the 6th of May, the King writes : — 

" Whithall, 

''d May 1669. 

"You cannot imagine what a noise Lord St. Albans' com- 
ming has made heere, as if he had great propositions from 152 
(the King of France), which I beate down as much as I can. 
It being preiudiciall, at this time, to have it thought that 360 
(Charles II.) had any other commerce with 126 (Louis XIV.) 
but that of 280 (the Treaty of Commerce), and in order to 
that, I have directed some of the councill to meat with 112 
(Colbert), which in time will bring on the whole matter, as 
we can wish, and pray lett there be great caution used on 
the side of 271 (France) concerning 386 (Charles II.'s) inten- 
tions towards 126 (Louis XIV.) which would not only be 
preiudiciall to the carrying on of the matters with 270 
(Holland), but also to our farther designes abroade, and this 
opinion I am sure you must be of, if you consider well the 
whole matter. I beleeve Mr Montagu has, before this, in 
some degree satisfied you concerning my L^ Arlington, and 
done him that justice to assure you that nobody is more your 
servant than he, for he cannot be so intierly myne as he is, 
and be wanting to you in the least degree, and I will be 
answerable for him in what he owes you. I finde the poore 
Abb6 Pregnany very much troubled, for feare that the raill- 
eries about fore-telling the horse matches may have done him 
some prejudice with you, which I hope it has not done, for he 
was only trying new trickes, which he had read of in bookes, 
and gave as little creditt to them as we did. Pray continue 
to be his frind so much as to hinder all you can any pre- 
judice that may come to him upon that score, for the man has 
witt enough, and is as much your servant as is possible, which 
makes me love him. My wife has been a little indisposed 
some few dayes, and there is hopes that it will prove a disease 
not displeasing to me.' I should not have been so forward in 
saying thus much without more certainty, but that I beleeve 



288 "PROFIT AND HONOUR." 

Others will write it to Paris, and say more than there is, and 
so I shall end with assureing you that 'tis impossible to be 
more yours than I am. C. R." 

A month later, Charles wrote another long letter, express- 
ing his cordial dislike to the Dutch, and his readiness to join 
in any enterprise against them. He further describes his 
preparations for fortifying the ports, and making sure of the 
fleet, and speaks of satisfying the claims of these holders of 
Church lands, in a way which looks as if he were seriously 
contemplating the establishment of the Roman Catholic re- 
ligion in England. 

"Whithall, 

'■'■ bjune 1669. 

" The oportunity of this bearers going into France gives 
me a good occasion to answer your letters by my L'' Arlington, 
and in the first place to tell you that I am secureing all the 
principall portcs of this countery, not only by fortifying them 
as they ought to be, but likewise the keeping them in such 
handes as I am sure will be faithfull to me upon all occasions, 
and this will secure the fleete, because the chiefe places where 
the ships lye are chattam and portsmouth. The first of 
which is fortifying with all speede, and will be finished this 
yeare, the other is in good condition already, but not so good 
as I desire, for it will coste some mony and time to make 
the place as I have designed it, and I will not have lesse care 
both in Scotland and Ireland. As for that which concernes 
those who have church lands, there will be easy wayes found 
out to secure them, and put them out of all aprehension. 
There is all the reason in the worlde to joyne profitt with 
honour, when it may be done honestly, and the King will 
finde me as forward to do 299 (Holland) a good turne as he 
can desire, and we shall, I dout not, agree very well in the 
point, for that country has used us both very scurvily, and I 
am sure we shall never be satisfied till we have had our 
revenge, and I am very willing to enter into an agreement 
upon that matter whensoever the King pleases. I will 
answer for 346 (Arlington) that he will be as forward in 



LORD ARLINGTON. 289 

that matter as I am, and farther assurance you cannot expect 
from an honest man in his post, nor ought you to trust him, 
if he should make any other professions then to be for what 
his master is for. I say this to you, because I undertooke 
to answer that part of the letter you writt to him upon this 
subject, and I hope this will be full satisfaction as to him in 
the future, that there may be no doute, since I do answer 
for him : I had writt thus farr when I receaved yours by 
EUwies, by which I perceave the inclination there still is of 
trusting 112 (Colbert) with the maine business, which I must 
confess, for many reasons, I am very unwilling to, and if 
there were no other reason than his understanding, which, to 
tell you the truth, I have not so great an esteeme for, as to 
be willing to trust him with that which is of so much con- 
cerne. There will be a time when both he and 342 (Montagu) 
may have a share in part of the matter, but for the great 
secrett, if it be not kept so till all things be ready to begin, 
we shall never go through with it, and destroy the whole 
businesse. I have seen your letter to 341 (Buckingham) and 
what you write to him is as it ought to be. He shall be 
brought into all the businesse before he can suspect anything, 
except that which concernes 263 (Charles II.), which he must 
not be trusted with. You will do well to writ but seldome 
to him, for feare something may slip from your penn which 
may make him jealous that there is something more then 
what he knows of. 1 do long to heare from 340 (Arundel) 
or to see him heere, for till I see the paper you mention 
which comes from 113 (Lionne) I cannot say more then I 
have done. And now I shall only add one word of this 
bearer, Mons'^ de la hiliere, who I have founde by my 
acquaintance with him since his being heere, to have both 
witt and judgement, and a very honest man, and pray lett 
him know that I am very much his frind, and if att any time 
you can give him a good word to the King of France, I shall 
be very glad of it. I will end this with desireing you to 
beleeve that I have nothing so much at my harte as to be 
able to acknowledge the kindnesse you have for me. If I 
thought that making many compliments upon that matter 
would persuade you more of the sincerity of my kindnesse 

T 



290 ARLINGTON'S LETTER. 

to you, you should not want whole sheetes of paper with 
nothing but that, but I hope you have the iustice to beleeve 
me, more then I can expresse, intierly Yours. C. R." 

Lord Arlington, to whose correspondence with Madame the 
King here alludes, himself wrote her a long letter about this 
time, defending his conduct proudly, and showing how much he 
resented the imputations which had been cast upon his loyalty. 

"If Your Royal Highness complains of the general 
terms in which my letter is written, I have, with submis- 
sion, much more reason to complain of the particular terms 
of yours ; and assuredly your correspondents in this Comt 
must have given a false description of me to your Royal 
Highness, otherwise you would never have thought of 
treating me in this way. I have been all my hfe a good 
servant of the King, my master, and such I will die, by the 
grace of God, and I would not, for all the wealth of the 
world, act any other part than that of a good Englishman. 
Moreover, the King will bear me witness, that in two or three 
remarkable conjunctures I have pleaded the part of France 
more earnestly than any of his ministers, but it was when 
I thought its friendship would be the most useful to him. I 
have done the same, in other cases, for Spain and Holland, 
when the same reason seemed to necessitate it, but always 
(thank God !) without expecting or receiving any benefit for 
myself. You now see, Madame, my temper, and if such a 
man can be agreeable to Your Royal Highness, I entreat you 
most humbly to accept me as your most humble and most 
obedient servant, who honours you with profound veneration, 
as being the beloved sister of my master, and also, as I firmly 
beheve, the most accomplished Princess in the world. I 
might add to this my interest in serving Your Royal High- 
ness well, knowing how much the King loves you, and 
how he prizes your affection. I conclude by reminding 
Your Royal Highness that His Majesty has been so good as 
to answer for me, and that thus all other cautions would be no 
only superfluous, but derogatory to the royal warrant which 
you have already received for me. ARLINGTON." 



THE SECRET TREATY. 29I 

On the 7th of June, Charles writes again, once more im- 
pressing the greatest possible secrecy on his sister, and repeat- 
ing his old arguments against admitting the French Ambas- 
sador or any one else into the secret. 

" I writt to you yesterday by Mr de La hiliere upon that 
important point, whether 112 (Colbert de Croissy) ought to 
be acquainted with our secrett, and the more I thinke of it, 
the more I am perplexed, reflecting upon his insufficiency, I 
cannot thinke him fitt for it, and therefore could wish some 
other fitter man in his station, but because the attempting of 
that might disoblige 137 (Colbert, the French minister), I 
can by no mcanes advise it ; upon the whole matter I see no 
kinde of necessity of telling 112 (Colbert de Croissy) of the 
secrett now, nor indeede till 270 (Charles II.) is in a better 
redinesse to make use of 297 (France) towards the great busi- 
nesse. Methinkes, it will be enough that 164 (Colbert de 
Croissy) be made acquainted with 360 (Charles II.'s) security 
in 100 (the King of France's) frindship, without knowing the 
reason of it. To conclude, remember how much the secrett in 
this matter importes, and take care that no new body be 
acquainted with it, till I see what 340 (Arundel) brings 334 
(Charles II.) in answer to his propositions, and till you have 
my consent that 164 (Colbert de Croissy), or anybody else, 
have there share in that matter. I would faine know (which 
I cannot do but by ^66) (Arundel) how ready 323 (France) is 
to breake with 299 (Holland). That is the game that would, 
as I conceive, most accomodate the interests both of 270 
(England) and 207 (France). As for 324 (Spain), he is suffi- 
ciently undoing himselfe to neede any helpe from 271 
(France), nay, I am perswaded the medling with him would 
unite and make his councells stronger ; the sooner you dis- 
patch 340 (Arundel), the more cleerly we shall be able to 
judge of the whole matter. One caution more, I had like to 
have forgotten, that when it shall be fitt to acquainte 138 
(Colbert de Croissy) with 386 (Charles II.'s) security in 152 
(the King's) frindship, he must not say any thing of it in 270 
(England), and pray lett the ministers in 297 (France) speake 
lesse confidently of our frindship then I heare they do, for it 



292 "THE POORE ABBE." 

will infinitely discompose 269 (Parliament) when they meete 
with 334 (Charles II.) to beleeve that 386 (Charles II.) is tied 
so fast with 271 (France), and make 321 (Parliament) have a 
thousand jealousies upon it. I have no more to add, but to 
tell you that my wife, after all our hopes, has miscarried 
againe, without any visible accident. The physicians are 
divided whether it were a false conception or a good one, and 
so good night, for 'tis very late. I am intierly yours. 

" C. R." 

On the 24th of June we have another letter, in which the 
King expresses his impatience for Lord Arundel's return, and 
promises to write more fully to Abbe Pregnani, who was 
setting out the next day, not without a somewhat diminished 
reputation for soothsaying. 

" Whithall, 
" Zi, June 1669. 

" It will be very difficulte for me to say anything to you 
upon the propositions till 340 (Arundel) returne hither, and if 
he makes many objections, which it may be are not alltogether 
reasonable, you must not wonder at it, for, as he is not a man 
much versed in affaires of state, so there are many scruples he 
may have, which will not be so heere, and I am confident, 
when we have heard the reasons of all sides we shall not differ 
in the maine, haveing the same interest and inclinations. And 
for 372 (Arlington) I can say no more for him than I have 
already done, only that I thinke, being upon the place, and 
observing every body as well as I can, I am the best judge of 
his fidelity to me, and what his inclinations are, and, if I 
should be deceived in the opinion I have of them, I am sure I 
should smarte for it most. I shall write to you to-morrow by 
I'Abb^ Pr^gnany, so I shall add no more now, and, in truth, I 
am just now going to a new play that I heare very much com- 
mended, and so I am Yours. C. R." 

So, in a strain singularly characteristic of the writer's 
mingled levity and seriousness, the correspondence comes to 
an end. For neither the letter which " the poore Abb6" is to 
bring, nor yet any other addressed by the King to his sister,. 



CHARLES II.'S LAST LETTER. 293 

remains in the French Archives. The correspondence, which 
was no doubt carried on more actively than ever, during the 
course of the next twelve months, here breaks off abruptly, 
just when it promised to become most interesting. We look, 
not without a sense of regret, at the fourth page of the 
worn brown paper, where the accustomed words, " For my 
Dearest Sister," meet our eye, and close the pages with 
strangely mixed feelings. Many are the curious glimpses of 
the King, which they have given us from time to time, many 
the scraps of precious information they supply as to the men 
and manners of the day. But it is, above all, as a true and 
vivid record of the deep and enduring affection which he had 
for Henrietta, that we now value them. They remain a living 
witness of the faithful love which survived all shocks and 
separations, and bound this royal brother and sister together 
unto the end. And no one can read them without thinking of 
Charles II. more kindly than before. 



C 1 1 A P T IC R XXII 
1669 

Birth of Madame's younger Daugliter — Deaih of Queen Ilenrietla Maria — Bossuet's 
Funeral Oration — Madame de I-a Fayette's J'ie dc Mculaine Hoirictte — 
Arrest of Cosnac, and Dismisbal of Madame de Saint-Chaiiinonl. 

Early in June, Madame retired to Saint-Cloud, and spent 
the rest of the summer there. Monsieur went to and fro from 
Saint-Germain, where the Court remained until the birth of 
the Queen's second son, the little Duke of Anjou, on the 2d 
of August. Henrietta's solitude was brightened by frequent 
visits from her mother, whose own health was failing fast, and 
became a cause of great anxiety to her daughter, as the spring 
deepened into summer. 

On the 23d of August, the Queen-mother paid a last visit 
to Saint-Cloud. Four days later, Madame gave birth to a 
daughter, much to her own disappointment and that of 
Monsieur, who expressed his regret in the following note to 
his friend, Madame de Sablt§ : — 

" Were it possible, Madame, that you should have had so bad 
an opinion of me as to think I had forgotten you, this would 
indeed be an additional grief to me in my present disappoint- 
ment, and I may say, without any flattery, that I should be 
more sorry to lose your friendship, than I am at having only a 
daughter, when I had hoped to have sons, and have not one." 

Montagu announced the news to his royal master in the 
following note, dated August 28 : — " Madame has put a stop 
for this time to my Lord Crofts his journey, by being brought 
to bed of a daughter last night at twelve o'clock. I saw her 
to-day. She is very well." 

Before Madame had recovered her strength, she received 
the sad news of her mother's sudden deatii. This took place 

294 



DEATH OF HENRIETTA MARIA. 295 

on the loth of September, at Colombes. Henrietta Man'a had 
been too suffering during the last week to visit her daughter, 
but, at Madame's earnest request, she allowed the King's 
doctor, Vallot, and M. Esprit and M. Yvelin, first physicians 
to Monsieur and Madame, to hold a consultation with her 
own doctor, as to her state of health. The result of this 
consultation was that Vallot recommended the Queen to take 
a grain of opium, in order to allay the continual cough and 
pains in the side that disturbed her rest. According to Father 
Cyprian's account, Henrietta Maria at first objected to this, 
saying that her old doctor, Mayerne, had always warned her 
against taking any narcotic. " Resides," she said, with a smile 
to her ladies, " an astrologer told me, years ago, a grain would 
be the cause of my death, and I fear that M. Vallot's pre- 
scription may be that fatal grain." Her objections, however, 
were over-ruled. She took the opium pills when she retired 
to rest on the night of the 9th, and in the morning was found 
in a dying condition. Father Cyprian hastened to administer 
the last sacraments, but the Queen never recovered conscious- 
ness, and passed quietly away. " She could not sleep," 
observes Mademoiselle, in her caustic style, " so the doctors 
gave her a pill to send her to sleep, which it did so effectually 
ihat she never woke again." 

The account of Henrietta Maria's death, given by Lord St. 
Albans, differs considerably, it must be owned, from that of 
I'ere dc Gamaches, and is probably the more accurate version. 
The following letter, in which this faithful servant announced 
the death of his mistress to Charles H., was written from 
Colombes, early in the morning of the lOth of September, 
a few hours after the Queen had breathed her last : — 

" If that whiche hath happened here could, or ought to be, 
concealed from you, my hand would not be the first in giving 
you notice of it. It hath pleased God to take from us this 
morning, about three o'clock, the Queene, your mother, and, 
notwithstanding her long sicknesse, as unexpectedly and 
with as muche surprise as if she had never been sicke at all. 
On Saturday last she had a consultation of physicians — -M. 
Vallot, M. Duquesne, M. Esprit, and M. Yvelin. The resul 



296 DEATH OF HENRIETTA MARIA. 

of the consultation was to give her, towards night, in order to 
the quieting of the humoures in her body, from whence they 
consider the great disorder came, with some rest, a grayne of 
laudanum. About 10 o'clock, she was in too much sweate to 
venture the grayne of laudanum, and the resolution was taken 
not to give it. She caused, thereupon, her curtaines to be 
drawne, and sent us all away, just as she used to doe for 
severall nights before, fearing herself noe more than she had 
donne, nor, indeed, inspiring in any of us the least imagina- 
tion of that which immediately followed. Not being able to 
sleep of herself, she called to her doctor. Monsieur Duquesne, 
for the grayne, and he, contrary to his former resolution, and, 
he sayeth, to his opinion when he did it, suffered himself to 
be over-ruled by the Queen, and gave it her in the yolk of an 
egge. She fell presently asleep ; he, sitting by her, perceiving 
her to sleep too profoundly, and her pulse to alter, endeav- 
oured, by all the meanes he could, to wake her and bring her 
to herself, but could effect neither by all the generall remedies 
used in such cases. She lasted thus till betweene 3 and 4 
o'clock, and then died. That which doth further concearn 
this matter, I shall give my Lord Arlington an account of. 
God of Heaven give you all necessary resolution in it. 

"St. Albans." 

A messenger took the news post haste to Monsieur at 
Saint-Germain, and, after paying a hurried visit to Colombes 
at six in the morning, he returned to Saint-Cloud, and broke 
the sad tidings to his wife. Madame's grief was excessive, 
and there was a wide-spread feeling of indignation against 
Vallot, whose advice was supposed to have hastened, if it had 
not been the actual cause of, the Queen's death. Gui Patin, 
as might be expected, is eloquent on the occasion, and cannot 
find words strong enough to express his contempt for the 
Court doctors and their little grains ! " Quacks like these, 
who pretend to be wiser than others, often become poisoners. 
God in His mercy preserve us from them all !" he exclaims, 
and, after this pious ejaculation, he goes on to quote an 
epigram which had just been composed on tlx^ poor Queen's 
death : — 



HER FUNERAL. 297 

"La croirez-vous, race future, 
Que ]a fille du grand Henri, 
Efit en mourant meme aventure, 
Que feu son p^re et son mari. 
Tous trois sont morts par assassin, 
Ravaiilac, Cromwell et mdddcin. 
Henri d'un coup de bayonnette, 
Charles pdrit sur un billot, 
Et maintenant meurt Henriette, 
Par I'ignorance de Vallot." 

On the day after her death, the heart of the Queen was 
borne in solemn procession to the convent of Chaillot, where 
she had always hoped to end her days, and delivered by Abb6 
Montagu to the keeping of the Abbess and her nuns. Two 
days afterwards her corpse was buried at Saint-Denis with 
royal honours. Mademoiselle appearing as chief mourner, 
followed by all the princes and princesses of the blood. 

Hardly had his mother-in-law breathed her last, than 
Monsieur hastened to lay claim to her possessions in his wife's 
name, as the only one of her children residing in France. 
Madame refused to take any part in his action, and declared 
her readiness to await the intimation of her brother's pleasure. 
Commissioners were sent over from England to take formal 
possession of the late Queen's effects in Charles II.'s name, 
and a curious inventory, drawn up by Sir Thomas Bond and 
Dr. Jenkins, is preserved among the French correspondence 
at the Record Office. The jewels and pictures, including 
many valuable paintings by Titian, Holbein, Correggio, Van- 
dyke, and Guido, which had belonged to Charles I., were 
eventually removed to England, but most of the furniture, and 
those pictures that were fixed in the walls, were allowed to 
remain at Colombes for Madame's use. A note is added, 
saying, "What Madame cares not to have is to be distributed 
among the Queen's women, at the discretion of the Lord 
Commissioners." And one picture, a "Noli me Tangere" by 
Guido, over the mantelpiece of the Queen's room, is "to be 
taken away unknown to Madame." The house and lands 
at Colombes were formally handed over to Madame, by the 
English Ambassador in his master's name, for her sole use 
and benefit, as His Majesty's free gift. At the same time, 



298 PRINCESS ANNE. 

Montagu presented her with a set of pearls, which she had 
been in the habit of wearing in her mother's lifetime, and 
which was said to be of priceless value, " the pearls being all 
of the best and finest." The furniture of Henrietta Maria's 
rooms in the convent at Chaillot was given by Charles II. 
to the Abbess and nuns of that community. Abb6 Montagu, 
the Queen's Grand Almoner, was appointed to the same office 
in Monsieur's household, and poor old Father Cyprian became 
Almoner to Madame, He lived to survive iho. petite princessCy 
who had been the darling of her mother's heart, and only died 
in 1679, more than eight years after Henrietta's own tragic 
end. At the time of the Queen's death, one of her English 
grandchildi-en, the Duke of York's little daughter, Anne, was 
staying at Colombes, to be under the treatment of a French 
physician for a complaint of the eyes from which she suffered. 
Madame now took the child into her own nursery, and the 
little Princess was brought up with her young cousin, Marie 
Louise, and treated with the greatest kindness by her aunt. 
A general mourning for Queen Henrietta was ordered, both 
in England and France, and the royal proclamation, issued by 
Louis XIV., called on all loyal subjects to mourn for the 
King's aunt, as the last surviving child of the Grand Henri. 

After paying Madame a visit of condolence, the King and 
Queen, accompanied by Monsieur, went to Chambord, and 
Henrietta was left to lament her loss alone at Saint-Cloud. It 
was then that Madame de La Fayette, in the hope of beguil- 
ing her lonely hours, and diverting her thoughts from the 
deep sadness into which the death of her mother had plunged 
her, once more took up the half-written story of her early 
married life. As they recalled those brilliant days of her 
youth, Madame's spirits revived, and before long she became 
amused and interested in the progress of the story. Another 
and still more distinguished personage, who paid Madame fre- 
quent visits at Saint-Cloud at this time, was the Abb6 Bossuet. 
Her mother's regard for this eloquent preacher naturally 
drew her to seek a closer acquaintance with him. Twice over 
in the Lent of that year, when Bossuet was preaching at the 
Chapel of the Oratory, in the Rue St Ilonorc, Madame had 
been there to hear him, and it was only the suddenness of her 



BOSSUET. 299 

mother's end, which had prevented him from being present at 
her death-bed. Now Madame sent for him to Saint-Cloud, 
and from that time he paid her constant visits, and had long 
conversations with her on religious subjects. Her friend and 
companion, Madame de La Fayette, had, we know, the 
highest opinion of Bossuct, and rejoiced to see her Princess 
find pleasure in the company of so excellent a man. " M. de 
Condom," she says, writing after Bossuet had been appointed 
to the vacant see, " is one of my greatest friends. He is the 
most honest and straightforward of men, the gentlest and the 
frankest speaker who has ever been known at Court." 

One short note from Madame's pen belongs to this 
period. It has a peculiar interest, as the only one of all her 
letters that bears her signature. It is addressed to Cardinal 
de Retz, and is a reply to a letter of condolence on her 
mother's death, which she had received from this old hero of 
the Fronde, who had been so true a friend to the English 
royal family in their darkest hours. 

"A Saint Cloud, 
" Cd? 2 Ociobre. 

'^ Mori cousin, even if you had not all the reasons that you 
give me for the concern that you show in my recent loss, I 
am too glad to believe that consideration for me alone would 
have prompted your kind words. These are my feelings, 
little as I know you. You can imagine what they would be 
if all the merit, of which Madame de La Fayette tells me 
daily, were better known to me. It will not be my fault if 
we are not better friends before long. Meanwhile, I value 
your kindness as it deserves, and hope that you are persuaded 
of my regard for you and believe me to be, my cousin, yours 
very affectionately. Henriette Anne. 

" A Monseigneur le Cardinal de Retz^ 

By the end of the month, the Court returned to Saint- 
Germain, and Monsieur and Madame were present at a solemn 
funeral service, in memory of the Queen-mother, that was 
held at Chaillot on the i6th of November, Abb6 Montagu 
officiated, but, by Madame's express wish, Bossuet delivered 



300 FUNERAL ORATION. 

the funeral oration. There, in the presence of the overflowing 
congregation which thronged the convent church, and 
numbered many of the most august names in France and 
England, the great preacher recalled the virtues, the mis- 
fortunes, the heroic courage which had marked the Reine 
vialheureuse. " O wife, O mother, O Queen incomparable, 
and worthy of a better fortune ! " There, too, he reminded his 
hearers of the royal child, who, born in the midst of civil 
war, had been snatched from the hands of the rebels, by the 
devotion of Lady Morton, and restored to her mother's arms, 
to become her consolation in sorrow, her joy in exile and 
ruin. Little did Bossuet himself, or those who heard him, 
dream that the next time they met, it would be to lament the 
Princess, who, in all the bloom of her youth and beauty, sat 
listening to his words that day. An Englishman, Dr. Jenkins, 
who was present on this occasion, gives an interesting account 
of the service at Chaillot and of the sermon which that day 
made so deep an impression on the whole audience. "The 
funeral oration," he writes, "for so. may the sermon be called, 
was by Monsieur I'Abb^ de Bossuet, lately nominated to the 
Bishoprick of Condom, to the perfect satisfaction of all that 
heard him, who, when he came to that long scene of Her 
Ma*'*'^ affliction, forgott not one remarque of that incomparable 
magnanimity which she showed, from her firs't embarquing in 
the Low Countries and her landing in the North of England, 
to her leaving of Exeter and the Kingdome. Nor was he 
less eloquent or less particular in these yet greater agonies 
and desolation that soon after followed, and lasted till His 
Ma''^'^ most happy Restauration, being, in all particulars 
mindfuU of the justice his narrative did owe to the Memorie 
of our late, and the Majestie of our present, SouVerayne." The 
sermon which Dr. Jenkins admired so much, was published at 
Madame's request, a few months afterwards, and widely 
circulated. Bussy, who received a copy from Madame de 
Sevign^, justly pronounced it to be a masterpiece of 
eloquence. The admiration which it excited was the greater 
from the contrast between this noble sermon and the feeble 
eulogy of the dead Queen that was pronounced four days later, 
at Saint-Denis, by the Cordelier, Faure, Bishop of Amiens. 



BOSSUET'S ADVENT SERMONS. 301 

As a former tutor of the King, he had been selected to occupy 
the pulpit at the funeral service which was held there on the 
20th of November. Monsieur and Madame, with their little 
daughter Mademoiselle, the King and Queen and the whole 
Court, were all present at this imposing ceremony. 

" The music performed by Lulli and his orchestra was 
superb," writes Oliver d'Ormesson, one of the deputies chosen 
to represent the Parliament on this occasion. " The Dies ircE 
was sung in a new and most beautiful way, but the Bishop of 
Amiens' oraison was very poor indeed — in fact, he acquitted 
himself even worse this time than at the Queen-mother's 
funeral." Five days afterwards, a third funeral mass was 
performed at Notre-Dame, and attended as before by Madame. 
She and Monsieur then joined the Court at Saint-Germain, and 
here, during the following Advent, she attended the course of 
sermons that was delivered by her friend Bossuct in the Royal 
Chapel. She needed all the consolation she could find, for 
one sorrow after another seemed to darken her life, and, as it 
were, to force upon her soul the conviction of that vanity of 
earthly joys, which was the great preacher's favourite theme. 
"The night cometh when no man can work. Repent, for 
the kingdom of Heaven is at hand." This was the burden of 
his cry all through that Advent. One Sunday especially, in 
the presence of Madame, he spoke solemnly of the nearness 
of death. He reminded his hearers, in touching words, of the 
young and the beautiful who were dying around them, every 
hour of their lives, and startled many by the impressive way 
in which he uttered the words — "Now is the axe laid to the 
root of the tree." Six months from that day, Madame was in 
her grave. 

In the midst of the sorrows which had come to her, and 
the pressure of political business, Henrietta had not forgotten 
her absent friend, the exiled Bishop of Valence. Her efforts 
to obtain his pardon from the King, or to interest her power- 
ful friends on his behalf, had so far proved in vain. But a 
bright idea had suddenly come into her head. She would 
avail herself of the influence which her brother's conversion 
would give him with Pope Clement, to obtain a dazzling reward 
for Cosnac, in the shape of a Cardinal's hat ! The vision of 



302 A cardinal's HAT. 

this Cardinal's hat is always floating before her eyes. It is 
the theme of her letters to the Bishop, and the subject of 
her conversations with his good friend, Madame de Saint- 
Chaumont. In vain Cosnac humbly replies that the idea is 
absurd, impossible. Madame is hurt, almost angry with him, 
for doubting her word, or her power to obtain what she desires. 
On the loth of June, she had written to him, from St Cloud, 
in the following terms : — " In your grief for the injuries which 
you have received, it might well add to your sorrow, if your 
friends did not seek for consolations to help you bear your 
misfortunes. Madame de Saint-Chaumont and I have resolved 
that the best thing we can do, is to get you a Cardinal's hat. 
This idea may, I understand well, appear visionary to you at 
first, since the authorities on whom these favours depend, 
seemed so little inclined to show you any good. But, to 
explain this enigma, you must know that among an infinite 
number of affairs, which are now in course of arrangement 
between France and England, the last-named country is likely, 
before long, to become of such importance in the eyes of Rome, 
and there will be so great a readiness to oblige the King, my 
brother, in whatever he may wish, that I am quite certain 
nothing that he asks will be refused. I have already begged 
him, without mentioning names, to ask for a Cardinal's hat, 
and he has promised me to do this. The hat will be for you, 
so you can reckon upon it. If only I could have obtained 
your return to Court, we could have taken means to facilitate 
the business, but however far off you may be, I will not cease 
to work for this end, and shall be glad to hear your ideas on 
the subject, and to find out the best way of making the thing 
acceptable here. I leave Madame de Saint-Chaumont to tell 
you the rest, and only ask you to believe, that as I have under- 
taken this joyfully for your benefit, so I shall persevere in the 
design, with all the resolution necessary to bring it to a happy 
conclusion." 

What chiefly impressed Cosnac in this proposal was 
Madame's kindness and thoughtfulness. In spite of repeated 
assurances, and even reproaches, both from Henrietta and 
Madame de Saint-Chaumont, he owns that he never could put 
any faith in the Cardinal's hat, or speak of it without a smile. 



LETTERS TO COSNAC. 303 

On tlic 19th of September, before Madame had recovered 
from the effects of her confinement and the shock of her 
mother's death, she wrote another letter on the same subject. 
She begins by a mysterious allusion to some fresh intrigues of 
Chevalier de Lorraine and his companions against her, which 
had happily failed, but the manuscript quoted in Cosnac's 
Memoirs was illegible, and the sense of the passage remains 
obscure. " I see, by your letter, that you have been informed 
of the strange treatment which I have met with in this State, 
where it was hitherto supposed that it was dangerous to harm 
others, but ordinary rules do not apply to those persons. 
One proof of this lies in their eagerness to disown their 
designs against me, which would in itself be a sufficient revenge 
to gratify me, were it not that Monsieur is mixed up in the 
thing. This distresses me as much as it has always done, and 
I cannot bear to recognise his faults, although he has so many 
that by this time I ought to be used to it. As for the business 
which I mentioned to you, I mean the affair of the hat, all is 
progressing according to my desire. I have received fresh 
assurances from the person on whom it depends, and I see 
nothing to hinder it now, unless it is your ill-luck. But I 
hardly think even this can be bad enough to make the person 
who has made me this promise break his word. I only wish 
it were as easy to bring you here for the Assembly of Clergy. 
Your friends agree with me that, till then, it would be useless 
to make any further efforts for your return. But I continually 
beg M. le Coadjuteur de Reims (Le Tellier, a son of the 
minister) to induce his father to approach the King on this 
subject. He promised me an answer, but the death of the 
Queen, my mother, has prevented me from seeing him. The 
loss of your brother has grieved me very much for your sake 
and you will always find me as grateful to you as I ought 
to be." 

A few weeks after this, the Bishop received pressing 
letters from Madame, urging him to pay a visit to Paris, or, if 
this were impossible, to some place in the neighbourhood, 
where she might meet him and discuss the whole thing. The 
death of her mother had left her without a single friend, 
whose advice she could ask on the important affairs with 



304 COSNAC COMES TO PARIS. 

which the two Kings entrusted her, and Louis XIV. would 
on no account let Monsieur into the secret. In her loneli- 
ness, it was only natural that she should turn to this old 
servant, whose ability was well known, and whose loyalty 
was above suspicion. And, as Madame de Saint-Chaumont 
intimated in her letters to Cosnac, her mistress was anxious 
that he should, if possible, accompany her to England, and 
thought that his presence might facilitate the success of her 
application for the Cardinal's hat. Besides this, the Bishop 
retained in his possession three letters addressed by the 
Chevalier de Lorraine to Mademoiselle de Fiennes, which had 
been seized by one of Madame's attendants, when the un- 
fortunate girl was driven out of the house by Monsieur. 
These letters, containing as they did many insolent expres- 
sions against her husband, Madame was anxious to have, in 
hopes that Monsieur's eyes might thus be opened to his 
favourite's true character, or, if need be, that she might lay 
them before the King as the best proof of the Chevalier's 
misconduct. And knowing, as Cosnac did, liow often letters 
were opened by Louvois's spies, he did not dare entrust these 
important documents to the post. But in spite of all these 
reasons, Cosnac was still reluctant to undertake the journey 
in open defiance of the royal command. He knew the strict 
watch that was kept upon his movements by Louvois's 
orders, and feared to expose himself to the King's anger. 
Still Madame insisted, and after sending him i*epeated 
messages, she herself wrote a yet more urgent entreaty, end- 
ing with the words : — " You no longer care for me, my dear 
Bishop, since you refuse to give me a consolation which I 
cannot do without." 

This last appeal decided Cosnac. He agreed to stop at 
Saint-Denis, on his way to visit an Abbey near Orleans, and 
promised to meet Madame at a friend's house, on the day of 
the funeral service that was held there in memory of her 
mother. In order to avoid recognition, he laid aside his 
episcopal habit, and travelled in disguise to Paris. Unluckily 
he fell ill on the journey, and, on reaching Paris, he took to 
his bed, in a miserable lodging of the Rue St. Denis, and sent 
his nephew to deliver the letters which he had brought with 



COSNAC ARRESTED. 305 

him, to Madame de Saint-Chaumont at the Palais-Royal. 
Hardly had he done this, than the police, whose suspicions 
had been aroused by the secrecy of his movements, arrested 
him as a notorious forger, of whom they were in search. To 
their surprise, the supposed forger drew forth a crozier from 
under his pillow, and declared himself to be the Bishop of 
Valence. He was now removed to the prison of Fort 
I'Eveque, and, after spending a night there, -received orders, 
from Louvois, to leave Paris without delay, for the remote 
town of rile Jourdain, where he spent the next two years in 
solitary exile. The consternation of Madame was great 
when she heard of the disastrous fate which had befallen her 
friend. Monsieur was the first to inform her of his arrest. 
A secretary of the English Embassy, Francis Vernon, 
writing home on the 27th of November, observes : — " They 
say that Monsieur, in dressing himself before he went 
to St. Germain, broke the business to Madame, and said : 
■• Madame, ne savez-vous pas que M. VEvcqiie de Valence 
est a Paris ? ' She answered : she thought he would not 
be so indiscreet as to come contrary to the King's order. 
So he combed his head, and a little while after, he said : 
' Old Madame, il est vrat, il est a Paris, il est encore en 
prison.^ Whereupon she expressed a passion, and said she 
hoped they would consider his character and use him with 
respect." 

Poor Madame's passion increased, when she found that 
her faithful servant, Madame de Saint-Chaumont, was in- 
volved in the Bishop's disgrace. With great presence of 
mind, Cosnac had destroyed all the letters from Madame 
which he had in his hands at the time of his arrest. But one 
brief note from Madame de Saint-Chaumont escaped his 
vigilant eyes, and was seized by the police and brought to 
Louvois. Upon this, Louis XIV., convinced that there Avas 
some intrigue on foot between the Bishop and this lady, sent 
Turenne to Madame, with a note demanding her instant 
dismissal. This was a terrible blow to Henrietta, for 
Madame de Saint-Chaumont had been her own daily com- 
panion, and the governess of her children, ever since the birth 
of the little Mademoiselle, eight years ago. She had nursed 

u 



3o6 madame's despair. 

the infant Due de Valois in his last illness with the utmost 
devotion, and was tenderly attached to the little Princess 
Marie Louise. But her prayers and tears could avail no- 
thing. The King was inflexible, and Madame de Saint- 
Chaumont, taking a sorrowful leave of her mistress, retired 
to the country. After Madame's death she took the veil 
and joined the Carmelites of the Rue du Bouloi. Henrietta 
wished to give^her place to Madame de La Fayette, but 
Monsieur preferred Madame de C16rembault, an eccentric but 
trustworthy lady, who discharged her office faithfully, if she 
could never console Madame for the loss of her beloved 
friend. 

It seemed, indeed, as Madame wrote, that she was destined 
to bring trouble on the heads of all those who had the mis- 
fortune to love and serve her. To add to her distress, Lor- 
raine boasted loudly that he had effected Madame de Saint- 
Chaumont's disgrace and Cosnac's ruin, and she became daily 
more convinced that he and Monsieur would not rest until 
they had driven away every friend in whom she could trust. 
In her despair she turned to her brother for help, and Louis 
XIV. was compelled to offer excuses to Charles II., through 
his ambassador, and to promise that the insolence of 
Monsieur's minion should not be allowed to go unpunished. 
On the 5th of December, Colbert de Croissy sent his master 
the report of a conversation, in which the King of England 
had expressed his great concern at the Bishop of Valence's 
imprisonment and exile, and the dismissal of his sister's wise 
and devoted servant, Madame de Saint-Chaumont, and had 
ended by declaring his conviction that the whole affair was 
the Chevalier de Lorraine's doing. A few days afterwards, 
Charles returned to the subject, and sent Leighton to the 
Ambassador, to insist on some reparation being made to his 
sister for the wrongs that she had suffered. Louis, in reply, 
promised to deliver Madame from the insolent favourite at 
the first opportunity, and consoled his sister-in-law, in the 
meanwhile, with constant assurances of his regard and 
sympathy. 

On the 28th of December, Henrietta addressed the follow- 
ing letter to Cosnac, from Saint-Germain : — 



madame's letter to cosnac. 307 

" If I had not heard of you from your friends, who told me 
of your letter, I should be very anxious about you, fearing 
the journey would injure your health, but, from what I hear 
of its improvement, I see, as I have often found myself, that 
bodily health does not always depend upon peace of mind. If 
this were the case, I should hardly be alive now, after the grief 
I have had in losing you, and your strength would not have 
resisted the effects of so much fatigue, at the worst season 
of the y^ar, and of all the trials to which you have been 
exposed. Madame de Fiennes showed Monsieur your letter, 
but I cannot say that it moved him as it ought to have 
done. He has long since lost the use of his native tongue, 
and can only speak in the language which has been taught 
him by the Chevalier de Lorraine, whose will he follows 
blindly, and the worst is, I have no hope that he will ever 
mend his ways. You will understand how happy this 
certainty is likely to make me, and what hours I spend in 
bitter reflections ! If the King keeps the promises which 
he daily repeats to me, I shall in future have less cause for 
annoyance, but you know how little I have learnt to trust such 
words, from a personage who is so obstinate in refusing to 
forgive you, and who is able to do what he wills. As for 
good P^re Zoccoli (Madame's Capuchin Confessor), he im- 
plores me every day to be kind to the Chevalier de Lorraine, 
and blames me for refusing to receive his insincere advances. 
I tell him that, in order to like a man who is the cause of all 
my sorrows, past and present, I ought at least to have some 
esteem for him, or else owe him some debt of gratitude, 
both of which are absolutely impossible, after the way in 
which he has behaved. Yet Monsieur refused to communicate 
at Christmas, unless I would promise him, not to drive his 
favourite away. I did this to satisfy him, but at the same 
time, I had the pleasure of letting him know, how much 
wrong this intimacy did me, and what grief I felt at seeing 
how little he cared for me. Farewell, nothing can ever 
diminish the esteem that I have for you." 

And so, darkly and sadly enough for Madame, the year 
1669 came to an end. 



CHAPTER XXIII 
1670 

Arrest of the Chevalier de Lorraine — Monsieur retires to Villers-Cotterets — • 
Arrival of the English Envoys — Colbert induces Monsieur to return to 
Court — He consents reluctantly to Madame's visit to England — Letters of 
Henrietta to Madame de Saint-Chaumont. 

With the opening of the new year, Charles II. renewed his 
invitation to Madame in the most pressing manner. Even 
before his mother's death he had written to Louis XIV., 
saying that a visit from Madame would be the best way to 
effect the final completion of the Treaty, and on the 5th of 
January he told Colbert that he passionately desired to see 
his sister in the coming spring. Three weeks later. Lord 
Falconbridge was sent to Paris, with an official request to 
the same effect from his master. But when the English 
envoy reached Saint-Germain, he found that Madame had 
been suddenly carried off to Villers-Cotterets, after an angry 
scene between the King and Monsieur. 

From the moment of Madame de Saint-Chaumont's 
disgrace, the Chevalier de Lorraine's insolence had become 
daily more insufferable. He boasted of his supremacy in 
Monsieur's house, and talked openly of a divorce between 
him and Madame. On the 30th of January, Monsieur, who 
was still as infatuated with his minion as ever, begged the 
King to give the Chevalier the revenues of two Abbeys which 
had fallen vacant by the death of the Bishop of Langres. 
Louis met this request with a flat refusal, and when his 
brother remonstrated, told him frankly that his favourite's 
conduct was intolerable. Monsieur flew into a rage, and 
vowed that he would leave Court at once, adding that, if he 
had a house a thousand leagues from Saint-Germain, he would 

308 



ARREST OF LORRAINE. 309 

go there on the spot, and never see his brother's face again. 
The King replied by ordering the immediate arrest of the 
Chevaher, who was taken by the royal guards to Pierre- 
Encise, near Lyons, and there imprisoned. Monsieur fainted 
on hearing of his favourite's removal, and, throwing himself 
at the King's feet, implored him with tears to recall his order. 
This Louis absolutely refused to do, upon which Monsieur 
ordered his rooms to be dismantled, and left Saint-Germahi 
that same evening for Paris, taking Madame with him. 

This incident excited general surprise, and Francis Vernon, 
the Secretary of the English Embassy, describes the scene in 
the following graphic terms : — 

" Paris, 
''Feb. I, 1670. 

" On Thursday night there happened a novelty, something 

extraordinary, at the Court at S. Germain. Monsieur 

arrived here from Court, all in a passion, and the Chevalier 

de Lorraine, his favourite, was sent to the Bastille. All was 

in disorder. He had asked the King to give the Chevalier 

some lands of the Bishop of Langres. Before the Bishop had 

yet expired, he had said, I give it to the Chevalier de Lorraine. 

The King heard of it, and was very angry at Monsieur 

disposing of lands without his consent, and, to show his 

resentment, said that the Chevalier should not have them. 

Hee, speaking thereupon something freely, was sent to the 

Bastille, upon which the Duke of Orleans was soe transported 

with choler, that he went to the King and upbraide him, and 

said he could never endeavour to do anything, but still he 

was crosst. For his part, hee was weary of such a life, and 

hee would leave the Court, and, after hee had soe said, ordered 

his coach to be made ready, his guards to march, and that 

evening left the Court, and came away to Paris, and to-day 

intends to retire to Villers-Cotterets. But I suppose matters 

will shortly be adjusted." 

The dispute, however, was not arranged so easily as the 
English secretary expected. 

Monsieur's rage was unbounded, and Mademoiselle, who 
had arrived at the Luxembourg the day before he and 



3IO MADAME S LETTERS. 

Madame came to Paris, was shocked at the violence of his 
language, and at the unkindness with which he treated his 
wife. Madame, on her part, spoke very gently to him, and 
remarked that, although she had no great reason to like the 
Chevalier, she was much distressed at the pain which his 
arrest had given Monsieur. That evening, she wrote the 
following note to Madame de Saint-Chaumont : — 

"De Paris, 

''/.? y:> Janvier^ 1670. 

" You will need all your piety to enable you to resist the 
temptation, which the arrest of the Chevalier will arouse in 
you, to rejoice at the evil which has befallen your neighbour ! 
You will soon hear how violently Monsieur has acted, and I 
am sure you will pity him in spite of the ill-treatment which 
you have received at his hands. But, even if I had time to 
tell you all that has happened, I would prefer to speak of the 
injustice that you do me, in ever thinking that I can forget 
you. I love you, and you must, I am sure, know this. I have 
never tried so hard to help anyone as I have tried to help 
you, and, as often as ever you wish, I am ready to tell you 
that I care more for you than for any of my friends. After 
this, do not judge what I wish to do by what I can do, and 
believe that my only wish is to find out how I can best please 
you. Time will show you the truth of my words, and you 
may rest assured that nothing can ever change the tenderness 
that I feel for you." 

The next day, Monsieur carried his wife off to Villers- 
Cotterets, but before her departure she found time to send 
a note to Mar6chal Turenne, one of the privileged few, it will 
be remembered, who were admitted into the Royal secrets. 

" Friday, 3 d clock. 
" I only write to bid you farewell, for things have come to 
such a pass that, unless the King detains us by much affec- 
tion and a little force, we go to-day to Villers-Cotterets, to 
return I know not when. You will understand what pain I 
feel from the step which Monsieur has taken, and how little 
compared with this I mind the weariness of the place, the 



MADAME AT VILLERS-COTTERETS. 3II 

unpleasantness of his company in his present mood, and a 
thousand other things of which I might complain. My only 
real cause of regret is having to leave my friends, and the 
fear I feel that the King may forget me. I know he will 
never have to complain of me, and all I ask him is to love 
me as well in my absence as if I were present with him. 
With that, I shall rest quite content, as far as he is concerned. 
As for you, I will not let you off so easily. I pretend to be 
regretted by you, without counting the lOO pistoles which 
you lose by my absence, and, to speak seriously, you would 
be very wrong not to miss me, since no one is so truly your 
friend as I am." 

But Louis XIV. did not interfere for the moment, and 
poor Madame spent the next month in the solitude of Villers- 
Cotterets, alone with her angry and unreasonable husband. 

The day after his arrival, Monsieur wrote a long letter to 
the Minister, Colbert, complaining bitterly of the cruel treat- 
ment which his friend the Chevalier had received, and of the 
marked affront which he considered had been done him by 
this arrest. More than this, he declared that, when the King 
hoard of his intention to leave Court, he had actually sent to 
ask Madame what steps she would take, thereby encouraging 
her to fail in the duty that she owed her husband. He ended 
with many protestations of his favourite's devotion to the 
King, and of his own deep attachment to the Chevalier, whom 
he called the best friend that he had in the world. 

On receiving this angry epistle, Colbert hastened to Villers- 
Cotterets, in the hope that Monsieur would, by this time, 
have got over his first paroxysm of rage, and would be ready 
to lend a willing ear to his advice. But, to his surprise, 
Monsieur absolutely refused to return to Court unless 
Lorraine were recalled. It was now the King's turn to be 
angry, and, hearing that his brother kept up a daily corre- 
spondence with his captive friend, he ordered the Chevalier to 
be removed to the fortress of Chateau d'lf, at Marseilles, and 
to be allowed no communication with his friends. So great 
was the scandal excited by this open rupture between the 
royal brothers, that the King actually Informed his ambassa- 



312 MADAME DE SUZE'S VERSES. 

dors at foreign courts, of the steps which Monsieur's extra- 
ordinary conduct had compelled him to take, adding, however, 
the expression of his fervent hope that his brother would 
soon return to a sense of his duty. In Paris and the pro- 
vinces alike, Lorraine's arrest and Monsieur's quarrel with the 
King were freely discussed. Contemporary journals and 
letters are full of the wildest reports, and the greatest sym- 
pathy was expressed for Madame. Her presence was sorely 
missed at Saint-Germain, and Madame de Suze poured out 
the lamentation of the whole Court in the following letter, 
which she addressed to one of Madame's ladies at Villers- 
Cotterets : — 

" All the world is writing to you, and I am too anxious 
not to be forgotten at Villers-Cotterets, to delay sending you 
these few lines any longer. But expect nothing amusing or 
lively from my pen ! We are too sad here even to try to be 
agreeable, and, since Madame left us, joy is no longer to be 
seen at Saint-Germain. 

" Les plaisirs, les jeux, les amours, 
Et les ris qui marchent toujours, 
Sur les pas de votre Princesse, 
Avec elle ont quittd la Cour. 
Resolus, qui qu'on les empresse, 
De n'y plus faire de sdjour, 
Que cette incomparable Princesse, 
En ces lieux ne soit de retour." 

" But in plain prose, for I confess I am tired of verse, 
everyone here is very dull in Madame's absence, and unless 
she returns soon, I cannot think what we shall do with 
ourselves. Nobody thinks of anything else but of writing 
to her, and the ladies of the Court are to be seen, pen in hand, 
at all hours of the day. I hope you will soon return, and with 
you the Graces, who always follow in Madame's train. She 
alone can bring us back the Spring-time." 

On the arrival of the English envoy, Lord Falconbridge 
sent his secretary, Dodington, to Villers-Cotterets where he 
had a long interview with Henrietta. " Madame," he writes, 
" received me with all imaginable kindness, much beyond 



dodington's letter. 313 

Avhat a man of my figure could pretend to, and did me the 
honour to give me a full hour's private discourse with her, 
and, perceiving that I was not unacquainted with her affairs, 
and flattering herself that I had address enough, or, at least, 
inclination, to serve her, she was pleased to tell me she had 
designed to see the King, her brother, at Dover, as this Court 
passeth by Calais to Flanders ; that this King had received 
the motion with all kindness, and conceived the ways of 
inducing Monsieur to accomplish it, which was that both 
her brothers and my Lord of St. Albans should write to 
Monsieur to that effect, which they had done ; but the letters, 
coming hither a day or two after the Chevalier de Lorraine's 
disgrace, Monsieur fell into so ill a humour with Madame, 
even to parting of beds, that the King of France had com- 
manded the letters should not be delivered to Monsieur, until 
he was better prepared to receive such a motion. That, since 
his coming to Villers-Cotterets, he began to come to himself, 
and that she thought, if the King of France approved of it, 
that the letters might now be delivered, in order to which 
Her Highness gave one of these three letters into my hand, 
and desired that my Lord Ambassador Montagu would, 
presently on my return, dispatch away one to St. Germain, 
to get the King's permission that my Lord Falconbridge 
might bring them with him to Villers-Cotterets, and deliver 
them to Monsieur. The King of France is extraordinary 
kind to Madame, and hath signified it sufficiently in all this 
affair of the Chevalier de Lorraine, whom he disgraced on 
her account, and on hers also it is that Monsieur is now 
invited to Court, although he seems not to take notice of it 
She is even adored by all here, and, questionlesse, hath more 
spirit and conduct than even her mother had, and certainly is 
capable of the greatest matters." 

Madame's enforced banishment, however, was not to last 
long. Her presence was too necessary, at this stage of affairs, 
for Louis XIV. not to insist on her return, and, hearing that 
Monsieur was already tired of his solitude, he sent Colbert a 
second time to Villers-Cotterets. The day before his arrival, 
Lord Falconbridge himself paid Madame a visit, which he 
describes in his letter of the 25th of February. 



314 MADAME RETURNS TO COURT. 

" Madame's reception was obliging beyond expression 
She has something of particular in all she says or does that 
is very surprising. I found by her that, although Monsieur 
were at that time in better humour than he had of late been, 
yet he still lies apart from her; that she wanted not hopes of 
inducing his consent to her seeing of the King, my master, 
at Dover or Canterbury this spring, as this Court passes into 
Flanders, nor is this King unwilling to second her desires in 
that particular ; and, to say the truth, I find she has a very 
great influence in this Court, where they all adore her, as she 
deserves, being a princess of extraordinary address and 
conduct." 

The next day Colbert arrived, bringing with him a present 
of jewels, laces, perfumes, diamond garters, gloves, and twenty 
purses, each containing lOo louis d'or, which the King sent to 
Madame with a message, saying that, since she had been 
absent from the Court Carnival, he had drawn tickets for her 
at the lottery, and that her good fortune had won these 
prizes. A very neat compliment, adds the English secretary, 
Vernon, and one which added not a little to the worth of the 
gifts, that were already valued at 20,000 crowns. At the 
same time the French secretary of State, speaking in the 
King's name, requested Monsieur to return to Court, and in- 
formed him that the Chevalier de Lorraine had been set at 
liberty, and allowed to go into Italy, on condition that he 
should not present himself at Court. Monsieur was only too 
glad to avail himself of this offer, and on the same day, the 
24th of February, he and Madame travelled to Paris in a 
carriage with Colbert and the English ambassadors. That 
evening. Monsieur went on to Saint-Germain, and Madame 
joined him there the following day. 

Their return was welcomed with general rejoicing. 
Madame received fresh presents from the King, and was 
warmly received by the Queen, as well as by Mademoiselle 
and all the Court ladies. "The King," wrote Dodington, 
" hath presented Madame with a most magnificent present of 
jewellery, cabinets, plate, and I know not how many rich 
curiosities. She hath a great influence on this Prince, and is 
adored by all hccrc, as I told you in my last." Ikit everyone 



HER TROUBLES. 315 

noticed how thin and pale she looked, and Vernon tells us 
that the sadness of her expression struck many of those who 
knew her best. Even Mademoiselle's sympathy was aroused 
on her behalf. In these last months of Madame's life, these 
two Princesses were more closely drawn together than ever 
before. Henrietta especially seemed anxious to make friends 
with her cousin, and often spoke to her in affectionate words, 
which Mademoiselle afterwards remembered with emotion. 
" Until now we have not often met my cousin, and we have 
never been as intimate as we ought to be," she said to her one 
day, at Saint-Germain. " But you, I know, have a good 
heart. Mine, you will find, is not a bad one. Let us be 
friends." The Queen, too, now began to feel compassion for 
Madame, and showed her great kindness. Like everyone 
else, she was shocked at Monsieur's ill-nature, and at the 
vexatious tyranny with which he treated his wife, in spite of 
their apparent reconciliation. He often refused to speak to 
her during whole days, and went so far as to tell Made- 
moiselle, that he had never loved Madame for more than a 
fortnight after his marriage. In fact, he spoke of her in such 
outrageous language that at length his cousin felt compelled 
to remind him that he owed Madame more respect, and 
should, at least, remember that she was the mother of his 
children. Henrietta, on her part, spoke of her husband with 
more sorrow than anger. "If he had strangled me when he 
fancied that I had wronged him," she would say to Made- 
moiselle, " I could, at least, have understood it, but to go on 
teasing me as he does, all about nothing, this is really more 
than I can bear." "There was," Mademoiselle allows, "a 
great deal of truth and good sense in all that she said on this 
point." And, on the loth of March, Henrietta wrote to 
Madame de Saint-Chaumont in the same strain. "I did not 
write to you from Villers-Cotterets, because I had no safe 
means of conveyance, and the post is too dangerous to be 
trusted with anything but mere compliments. While I was 
there, I received your answer to the letter in which I in- 
formed you of the Chevalier de Lorraine's disgrace, and am 
not surprised to find how calmly you take this revenge, which 
le hon Dieu has so promptly granted you. Monsieur still per- 



3i6 madame's letters. 

sists in believing that it is all my doing, and forms part of the 
promises which I made you. That is an honour of which I 
am unworthy, excepting so far as wishes go, and I was not 
guilty in this respect, if indeed it can be called guilt, to desire 
the ruin of a man, who has been the cause of all my troubles. 
In your piety, you seem even to have ceased to wish for 
vengeance. That is a pitch of perfection to which I confess 
I cannot attain, and I am glad to see a man, who had never 
done justice to anyone, get his deserts. The bad impression 
which he left on Monsieur's mind still lasts, and he never 
sees me without reproaches. The King has reconciled us, 
but since Monsieur cannot at present give the Chevalier the 
pensions which he desires, he sulks in my presence, and hopes 
that, by ill-treating me, he will make me wish for the Cheva- 
lier's return. I have told him that this kind of conduct will 
never answer. He replies with those airs of his which you 
know well. I fear the King is still displeased with you. Let 
us hope that he will one day recognise your innocence, and 
repent of the way in which you have been treated. But alas ! 
it is too late already, for your place is filled, and Monsieur is 
so conscious, and so much ashamed of the injustice which 
he has done you, that he will, I fear, never forgive you. 
Another day, I will answer the letter which you wrote before 
your last one, and will only now reproach you for ever dream- 
ing that I could forget to defend you. I forget nothing 
which concerns you, and you will always find me the most 
constant and the tenderest of friends." 

On their return to Saint-Germain, Monsieur and Madame 
lodged in their usual rooms in the Chateau Neuf, but Henri- 
etta also occupied a large saloon in the old Palace, where she 
spent the afternoons, engaged on business with the King. 
The chief difficulty now was how to overcome Monsieur's 
opposition to his wife's visit to England. His obstinacy was 
greatly increased by the mortification he felt at not having 
been admitted into the secret before. When the King first 
explained the state of affairs to him, he was surprised to 
find that Monsieur had already been informed by the Cheva- 
lier dc Lorraine of Madame's intended journey. Unable to 
discover how the secret had transpired, Louis sent for 



turenne's indiscretion. 317 

Turcnne, who confessed, with some confusion, that he had 
mentioned Henrietta's intended visit to England to one of 
her ladies, Madame de Coetquen, a princess of the house of 
Rohan, who would, he knew, be anxious to accompany her. 
The King laughed when he heard this, and said : " Then I 
am to understand that you love Madame de Coetquen ? " 
"No, sire," replied the Mar^chal, proudly, "but she is cer- 
tainly a friend of mine." " Well," replied Louis, " what is 
done cannot be undone, but, for heaven's sake, tell her 
nothing more, for I am sorry to tell you she loves the Cheva- 
lier de Lorraine, and tells him all she hears, and the Cheva- 
lier repeats every word to my brother." Some time after- 
wards, Madame gently reproached the indiscreet lady-in- 
waiting who had been the cause of all this mischief, and 
Madame de Coetquen, falling on her knees before her mis- 
tress, owned that she loved Lorraine too well, and implored 
her pardon with tears. For some time Monsieur remained 
obdurate, and would not yield either to threats or entreaties 
on the King's part. On the 226. of March, Lionne wrote to 
Colbert de Croissy from Saint-Germain : — 

" I write in haste to tell you, that the King wishes His 
Britannic Majesty to know, that when he proposed Madame's 
journey into England to Monsieur, he replied in as contrary 
a manner as possible, and with violent transports of rage, 
saying that he would not even allow Madame to go into 
Flanders. Your brother, in whom Monsieur has confidence, 
having spoken to him again about it yesterday, by His 
Majesty's order, found him a little softened and more willing 
to hear reason. The King will continue to try, by gentle 
means, to get his consent, and hopes he may prevail before 
very long." 

A week later, Louis XIV. himself wrote to his Am- 
bassador in England, saying that Monsieur had so far relented 
as to allow Madame to visit her brother at Dover, but that he 
insisted on crossing over with her, so that all the honour of the 
Treaty should not be carried off by her. Louis added that he 
had vainly tried to show his brother that the King of England 
would, naturally enough, wish to enjoy a little more of his 



3i8 madame's journey. 

sister's company, and take her back with him to London, but 
that Monsieur said, nothing would induce him to go there 
himself, or to allow his wife to go beyond Dover. Madame 
was by no means anxious for her husband's company in 
England, and told Louis XIV. that his presence would only 
put difficulties in the way of transacting business. She con- 
sented, however, to refer the matter to her brother, who found 
excellent reasons for declining the honour which Monsieur 
proposed to do him. In her letters to Madame de Saint- 
Chaumont, Henrietta gives a full account of Monsieur's pro- 
ceedings, which were as wayward and unreasonable as those 
of a spoilt child. On the 26th of March she writes from 
Saint-Germain : — 

" It seems as if all the peace of my life had departed 
with you, and as if the wrong which had been done you, had 
left neither quiet nor repose of mind to those who were its 
cause. It is true that I too have had to suffer, who am cer- 
tainly not answerable for this, but the truth is, all that Mon- 
sieur does, concerns me so nearly, that it is impossible his 
actions should not fall back upon me. He has been very 
angry at the wish which the King, my brother, has expressed 
that I should go and see him. This has driven him to lengths 
which you would hardly believe, for, regardless of what the 
world may say, in his wrath against me, he declares aloud that 
I reproached him for the life he led with his favourite, and 
many other things of the kind, which have been very edifying 
hearing for our charitable neighbours. The King has worked 
hard to bring him to reason, but all in vain, for his only object 
in treating me so ill is to force me to ask favours for the 
Chevalier, and I am determined not to give in to blows 
{coups de bdtons). This state of things does not admit of any 
reconciliation, and Monsieur now refuses to come near me, 
and hardly ever speaks to me, which, in all the quarrels we 
have had, has never happened before. But the gift of some 
additional revenues from the King has now softened his 
anger a little, and I hope that by Easter, all may yet be well. 
I am, on the whole, content with what the King has hitherto 
done, but I see that, from the ashes of Monsieur's love for the 



madame's letters. 319 

Chevalier, as from the dragon's teeth, a whole brood of fresh 
favourites are likely to spring up to vex me. Monsieur now 
puts his trust in the little Marsan (another prince of the house 
of Lorraine) and the Chevalier de Beuvron, not to speak of 
the false face of the Marquis de Villeroy, who prides himself 
on being his friend, and only seeks his own interests, regard- 
less of those of Monsieur, or of the Chevalier. All I can do, 
is to spend the rest of my life in trying to undo the mischief 
which these gentlemen have done, without much hope of 
remedying the true evil that lies at the root of all. You will 
understand how much patience I shall need for this, and I 
am quite surprised to find that I have any left, for the task is 
a very hard one. As for my journey to England, I do not 
despair that it may yet take place. If it docs, it will be a 
great happiness for me. All these affairs have prevented me 
from mentioning your business, but not from thinking of you. 
Nothing in the world can ever hinder me from showing you 
fresh marks of my remembrance and tenderness. But, as you 
know, there are moments when all one can do is to hold one's 
peace and wait for a better chance. This alone is the reason 
why I will say nothing about your affairs, but, as I have 
already told you, no one could love you more tenderly than 
I do." 

On the 6th of April she wrote again : — • 

" As for my reconciliation with Monsieur, you will see 
that the news which you heard respecting my journey is one 
of those too favourable judgments with which the world is 
kind enough to honour me, from time to time ; unfortunately, 
absolutely without foundation. I have indeed wished to see 
the King, my brother, but there has been no question of the 
Chevalier's return in all Monsieur's opposition to my journey. 
Only he still declares that lie cannot love me, unless his 
favourite is allowed to form a third in our union. Since then, 
I have made him understand that, however much I might 
desire the Chevalier's return, it would be impossible to obtain 
it, and he has given up the idea, but, by making a noise 
about my journey to England, he hopes to show that he is 



320 MADAM E'S LETTERS. 

master, and can treat me as ill in the Chevalier's absence as 
in his presence. This being his policy, he began to speak 
openly of our quarrels, refused to enter my room, and pre- 
tended to show that he could revenge himself for having been 
left in ignorance of these affairs, and make me suffer for what 
he calls the faults of the two Kings. However, after all this 
noise, he has thought fit to relent, and said he would make 
peace if I would make the first advances. This I have done 
gladly enough, through the Princesse Palatine (Anne de 
Gonzague). He accused me of saying a thousand extravagant 
things, which I should have been mad ever to dream of say- 
ing ! I told him that he had been misinformed, but that I 
was ready to beg his pardon, even for what I had not said. 
Finally he became more tractable, and after many promises 
to forget the past, and live more happily in future, without 
even mentioning the Chevalier's name, he not only agreed 
that I should go to England, but proposed that he should go 
there too. I wrote at once to my brother, to make this pro- 
posal, but as yet I have had no answer, and none of this news 
has yet been made public. Every one talks according to his 
own ideas. All the world knows that I am going, but no one 
imagines that Monsieur wishes to accompany me, after all 
that he has said against the King, my brother, and his repeated 
declarations that he would never let me go, in order to have 
his revenge. You will confess that the version of matters 
which you had heard, is altogether contrary to the true state 
of things. Once for all, you may be certain that I shall never 
do such an extravagant thing as to ask for the Chevalier's 
return, even if this depended upon me, which is not the case. 
As for your affairs, I have spent the last week in Paris, and 
have, therefore, been unable to speak to the King. But do 
not imagine for a moment that I consider the permission 
which you ask, to stay within three days' journey of Paris, is 
to be held in the light of a favour. I shall only ask for this 
as a sign of your respect for the King, and as a thing which 
cannot be refused, since the promise was made before you 
left It is to be hoped that, once this first step has been taken, 
you will no longer be honoured with the importance of being 
treated as a dangerous person, but will be able to go wherever 



BOSSUET. 321 

you like, whether for your affairs, or ' for your health. You 
see that I agree with you on all of these subjects, and will do 
everything that I can. You know this is not always what I 
should like to do, and I will own to you that, however fair 
things appear outwardly, I do not always see the kindness 
which I hope for in certain quarters. When you would think 
me happiest, I often meet with terrible disappointments, of 
which I tell no one, because it is of no use to complain, and, 
besides, I have no one whom I can speak to now. I have 
lately wished for you back again, a thousand times a day, and 
although you used formerly to reproach me with not telling 
you what I felt, but I am sure I should have spoken this 
time, if only I could have had you. But that, alas ! is a 
pleasure which I cannot hope for now. Be sure, at least, that 
I shall always feel your loss, and shall never forget what you 
have suffered for my sake, and what I owe to my love for 
you." 

Madame wrote this letter from the Palais-Royal, where 
she had come to spend Holy Week and Easter. Here she 
found consolation in the visits of Bossuet, who was then in 
Paris awaiting the papal bull which should confirm his ap- 
pointment to the Bishopric of Condom, in Paris. All that 
winter, Madame seems to have been in constant correspond- 
ence with the eloquent preacher, whose words had stirred her 
heart so deeply. He paid her frequent visits at the Palais- 
Royal or at Saint-Cloud, recommended a course of serious 
reading for her study, and was surprised to find her so intelli- 
gent and thoughtful. Madame, on her part, weary and dis- 
appointed as she was with the vanities of the world, turned 
gladly to him for help, and listened with her usual sweetness 
to his advice. " I am afraid," she said to him, " I have thought 
too little of my soul. If it is not too late, help me to find the 
way of salvation." It was then, in her gratitude to Bossuet 
for his instructions, that she ordered an emerald ring to be 
made by her jeweller, as a present for the Bishop. But the 
ring was not ready until she had started for England, and it 
was only after her death that Bossuet received this precious 
memorial of her friendship. 

X 



322 madame's daughter christened. 

On the 8th of April, her little daughter was christened by 
Abb6 Montagu at the Palais-Royal. The child, who was now 
eight months old, received the name of Anne Marie, and bore 
the title of Mademoiselle de Valois. Mademoiselle, the young 
Dauphin, and the Due d'Enghien, the son of the Prince of 
Cond<^, stood sponsors, and were afterwards entertained at 
supper by Monsieur and Madame, together with the King and 
Queen, and all the princes and princesses of the blood. " Yes- 
terday," wrote Vernon, " the King came to Paris, much to the 
burghers' satisfaction, visited some churches, admired Val-de- 
Grace, and was present at a gossipping in the Palais-Royal, 
where Madame's young daughter, y* Duchesse de Valois, 
was formally baptized." On the evening of the same day, 
Madame, with her usual thoughtfulness, wrote a kind letter to 
the exiled Bishop of Valence, who had formerly officiated on 
these occasions, assuring him of her sympathy and remem- 
brance. 

After the ceremony, the Court returned to Saint-Germain, 
and on the 14th, Madame wrote another long letter to Madame 
de Saint-Chaumont : — 

" I was hoping for an opportunity of asking the King to 
give you the liberty of going where you like, but my good in- 
tentions have been hindered by some bad offices which have 
been done you. The King sent for your brother (the Mar6chal 
de Gramont) and told him that he heard you were in Paris, 
and that he knew I meant to intercede for you, but begged I 
would do nothing of the kind, since it grieved him to be 
compelled to give me a refusal. Your brother replied, with 
the utmost earnestness, that these were all unkind inventions, 
which fell heavily on innocent persons, but that he would 
certainly beg me not to think of interfering on your behalf, so 
that I have said nothing, fearing that I should do more harm 
than good. It grieves me to feel that I can do nothing for 
you. This is one of my worst sorrows, and I cannot be happy 
until you are free to go where you will, and there seems to be 
a hope that I may once more have you with me. The Mar6- 
chale has been ill ; never before have I so earnestly wished for 
any one's recovery as I have for hers. If she had died, I have 



monsieur's ill-temper. / 323 

no doubt Monsieur would insist on giving tier place to the 
daughter-in law (probably a member of the Lorraine faction), 
and all the fuss we had at Saint-Cloud on the subject would 
begin again. But, thank God ! she has recovered, and I still 
flatter m3'self with the hope that one day you may succeed 
her, although La Comtesse remains his favourite, and is one 
of those respectable characters with whom Monsieur is always 
anxious to surround me. I have not spoken to you of the 
state of affairs, because of the insecurity of the post, and all 
the couriers are in M. de Louvois' service. Also, you know 
that Monsieur's sole complaint against you is that you knew 
too many of my secrets. So I have waited to reply to the 
letter which I received at Villers-Cotterets, but now that M. 
de Valence has sent me a trustworthy messenger, I must tell 
you that all is finally settled between the two Kings, and that 
there is very little left for me to do in England.v From this, 
you would imagine that I might do whatever I liked ! But 
although the King has been exceedingly good to me in some 
ways, I often find him very troublesome. He makes a 
thousand mistakes, and commits inconceivable follies, without 
the least intending it. For instance, I had begged him to 
allow Monsieur to grant certain pensions to the Chevalier, so 
as to put him into a good humour. He refused, saying that I 
only asked for this because I was so anxibus to go to England, 
and that I need not distress myself on that score, for I should 
certainly go, since my presence there was necessary to him. 
He spoke to Monsieur, who was furious, as you know, and' 
made all this noise about the journey. Meanwhile, the King, 
after promising me he would do nothing for the Chevalier, 
excepting at my request, releases Monsieur's favourite to 
appease him, and promises him these pensions on his return 
from his journey, providing I agree, and all this without 
saying a word to me. You will confess that a naturally honest 
mind finds all this very surprising, and that it becomes difficult 
to know how to act in these circumstances. I had asked the 
King to allow me to give Monsieur . . . (the words are 
effaced in the original). He refused, saying people would think 
that Monsieur's bad temper had been rewarded. Two days 
afterwards, he gives him more than I had ever asked for, and 



324 THE CAB ALE DES LORSA/NS. 

allows Monsieur himself to go to England, without reflecting 
what embarrassment this will cause my brother, who would 
never consent to discuss affairs with him. Naturally, when 
this proposal was made, he met it with a decided refusal, say- 
ing that my brother, the Duke of York, could not come to 
Calais while Monsieur was at Dover, and that one visit should 
not take place without the other. This refusal has renewed 
Monsieur's irritation. He complains that all the honour will 
be mine, and consents to my journey with a very bad grace. 
At present, his chief friends are M. de Marsan, the Marquis de 
Villeroy and the Chevalier de Beuvron. The Marquis d'Effiat 
is the only one of the troop who is perhaps a little less of a 
rogue, but he is not clever enough to manage Monsieur, and 
the three others do all they can to make me miserable until 
the Chevalier returns. Although Monsieur is somewhat 
softened, he still tells me there is only one way in which I 
can show my love for him. Such a remedy, you know, would 
be followed by certain death 1 Besides, the King has pledged 
his word that the Chevalier shall not return for eight years, by 
which time it is to be hoped Monsieur will either be cured of 
his passion, or else enlightened as to his favourite's true 
character. He may then see what faults this man has made 
him commit, and live to hate him as much as once he loved 
him. This is my only hope, although, even then, I may still 
be unhappy. Monsieur's jealous nature and his constant fear 
that I should be loved and esteemed will always be the cause 
of trouble, and the King does not make people happy, even 
when he means to treat them well. We see how even his 
mistresses have to suffer three or four rebuffs a week. What 
then must his friends expect ? " 

Madame alludes to the perpetual jealousies and quarrels 
between the King's new mistress, Madame de Montespan, and 
his old love, La Valli^re, who still struggled with the chains 
that bound her. D'Effiat, whom Madame mentions as the best 
of the " Lorrains," was the very one of the Chevalier's friends 
who was afterwards suspected of having poisoned her. In 
point of fact there was little to choose between these men, 
who were equally vicious and unprincipled, and who, after 



madame's journey. 325 

embittering the first Madame's life with their intrigues, lived 
to cause the second Madame almost as much annoyance. 
Henrietta concludes this long letter by telling her friend 
the latest arrangements which have been made for her 
journey : — 

" The Comtesse de Gramont will accompany me to Dover, 
as well as her brother, M. d'Hamilton. Everyone in France 
wants to follow me, but the King, my brother, will not allow 
this, and Monsieur is delighted to hear only a few persons are 
to accompany me, fearing too much honour should be paid 
me. I will see on m}'^ journey what can be done for this poor 
M. de Valence, as to his Cardinalate. You may be sure that 
I long to help him more than ever. I am going to ask the 
King once more to-day if he may return to his diocese, but I 
know not if I shall succeed. Perhaps the bearer of this will 
be able to inform you if I have not time to tell you myself. I 
hardly know how I have managed to write such a long letter, 
I will finish by assuring you that I cannot console myself for 
your absence, and that I am ahvays saying, what I will repeat 
once more, that I can never be happy without you." 

As Madame says in her letter, Monsieur had at last 
yielded with a very bad grace, but not until Charles II. had 
sent another urgent request by a new envoy. Lord Godolphin, 
upon which Louis XIV. told his brother angrily, that Madame's 
journey was for the good of the State, and that he would hear 
of no more refusals. A stay of three days at Dover, however, 
was the utmost to which Monsieur would agree, and he 
positively declined to allow his wife to visit London, although, 
in hopes of conciliating him, Charles II. had sent word that 
Madame should be received with the highest honours, and 
should take precedence of the Duchess of York, and of every 
other lady in England but the Queen. Louis XIV. did his 
best to atone for Monsieur's churlishness by his attentions to 
his sister-in-law. He presented her with 200,000 crowns to- 
wards the expenses of her household, and himself selected the 
ladies and gentlemen who were to accompany her. " The 
King," wrote Montagu, " is going to send Madame over with 



326 madame's journey. 

a great suite and handsome equipage. All the ladies of 
France, who wish to display their beauty, have begged to go 
with her." But, although a few favoured individuals had been 
privately informed of Madame's intended visit to England, 
the secret was so well kept that even Mademoiselle remained 
in the dark, and knew nothing until Charles II.'s envoys 
came to meet the Royal party at Courtray, and requested 
Madame to cross over, and pay the King, her brother, a visit at 
Dover. 



CHAPTER XXIV 
1670 

Journey of the Court to Flanders — Madame's Visit to Dover — The Treaty of Dover 
finally concluded — Chief Articles of the Secret Treaty — Waller's Sonnet — 
Madame returns to France — Her last Days at Saint-Cloud. 

For some time past, great preparations had been made for the 
Court's journey into Flanders. The King had announced his 
intention of taking the Queen to visit her new subjects, but 
the true object of the journey remained concealed for the 
present. On the 28th of April the royal party set out. On 
the day of her departure, Madame wrote a last letter to 
Madame de Saint-Chaumont, taking a tender farewell of her 
absent friend. 

" I should not think my journey could prosper if I began 
it without bidding you farewell. Never has anything been 
more wrangled over, and even now Monsieur refuses to let me 
stay more than three days with the King, my brother. This 
is better than nothing, but it is a very short time for all which 
two people, who love one another as well as he and I do, have 
to say. Monsieur is still very angry with me, and I know 
that I shall have to expect many troubles, on my return. 
You will believe this, when you recollect how I foretold all 
that would happen after my last accouchement, although I knew 
that there was nothing to be done. The same thing will 
happen now. Monsieur vows that, if I do not procure the 
Chevalier's return, he will treat me as badly as the meanest of 
creatures. Before his arrest he advised Monsieur to find 
means to obtain a separation from me. I told the King, who 
laughed at me, but since then he has owned that I was right, 
and that Monsieur had actually proposed this to him. So I 

327 



328 JOURNEY TO FLANDERS. 

told him that he must see the necessity of never allowing the 
return of this man, who would only do far worse in future. I 
have no time to say more, and can only assure you that no- 
thing will ever disminish my tenderness for you." 

A few hours later, Madame started in the Royal coach, 
resplendent with gilding and embroidery, and attended by a 
brilliant escort of cavalry, with Lauzun at their head. The 
other occupants of the state carriage were the King and 
Queen and Madame de Montespan, whose triumph over her 
rival was now complete. In the next came the boy Dauphin 
and Mademoiselle, who had eyes for no one but the captain 
of the Royal guard, and was satisfied that Lauzun eclipsed all 
his peers. After them came a long train of carriages, with the 
ladies of the Court and the attendants and furniture of the 
Royal family. The way lay through Senlis, Compi^gne and 
Saint-Quentin, to Arras, and afterwards to Douay and Courtray. 
Wherever a halt was made, rooms were furnished and meals 
served, exactly as at Saint-Germain or Versailles. French 
historians dilate on the splendour of the cortege, on the balls and 
fireworks which everywhere greeted the King's appearance, 
on the gold and jewels which he showered on the ladies of the 
cities through which they passed. " The journey," Voltaire 
writes, "was one continual/"//^, and among all the beauties of 
the Court, Madame shone supreme, conscious that all this 
glory was for her alone." The reality was hardly so pleasant 
as these words might lead us to suppose. Mademoiselle, 
blissful as she was in her lover's presence, draws a graphic 
picture of the miseries to which the royal family, and the 
members of their suite, were exposed on this journey. The 
weather was very bad, the rain fell in torrents, drenching 
spendid uniforms and nodding plumes. Half a league from 
Landr6cies, the Sambre had overflowed its banks, the bridges 
were broken down, and the royal party had to spend the 
night in a barn, much to the disgust of the Queen, who 
grumbled at the soup that was offered her, and declared that 
she could not lie down in the presence of her ladies. Madame 
and Mademoiselle, with better sense, laughed at these new 
experiences, and made light of the small inconveniences to 
which they were exposed. They ate chickens without knives 



JOURNEY TO FLANDERS. 329 

and forks, and lay down to rest on mattresses, which the 
gentlemen-in-waiting spread on the floor of the barn. At four 
o'clock, when they were all fast asleep, Louvois brought word 
that the bridge was repaired, and the royal party went on to 
Landrecies. 

And Madame de Fiennes, writing to Bussy from Paris, 
descants on the miseries which her husband, in common with 
the other members of the suite, experienced on this disastrous 
journey. She describes how they had to camp out in pouring 
rain, and sleep under dripping canvas, and how the new 
clothes and splendid equipages, which they had gone to such 
expense to provide, were ruined by the heavy rain and shock- 
ing roads. " I have just had a letter from Madame," she 
writes, on the 1 8th of May, " who says that they had to suffer 
the same inconveniences as the rest of the troops, and were 
kept 24 hours in their coach, without food or drink, on the 
edge of a river which had overflowed its banks. I know that 
she means a great deal by this, for the dear Princess tries to 
make light of what she has endured for my sake. She is 
very happy to think of going to England, but would have 
been better pleased if she could have gone to London, Dover 
being a very wretched place to spend three days in. But, 
as she says, we must not grumble in this world if we get half 
of what we desire." 

Although she wrote cheerfully, Henrietta was both sad 
and suffering. Mademoiselle tells us that she was very much 
out of spirits, and could seldom touch anything but a little 
milk. Whenever they reached the end of the day's journey, 
she retired to her bedroom. The King often visited her, and 
treated her with the greatest kindness. Not so Monsieur. 
Whenever he travelled in the coach with her, he would say 
the most disagreeable things to her face, before the Queen 
and Mademoiselle. One day he remarked, with a smile, that 
an astrologer had once told him that he would have several 
wives, and that this prophecy seemed likely to be fulfilled, 
for that Madame would evidently not live long. " This 
seemed to me very hard," observed Mademoiselle, " and the 
Queen and I showed, by our silence, what we thought of 
his conduct to poor Madame." But Henrietta took it all 



330 M. DE POMPONNE. 

patiently, and was too much accustomed to her husband's 
odious behaviour to pay him any attention. Happily, she 
was spared Monsieur's company on the journey through 
Flanders, for he took it into his head to ride through the 
towns which his prowess had helped to conquer, sword in 
hand, at the head of his regiment. On arriving at Courtray, 
the English envoys met the Royal party with the news that 
Charles II. was at Dover, and begged Madame to embark as 
soon as possible on the fleet, under Lord Sandwich, which was 
awaiting her orders in the port of Dunkirk. " Madame," ob- 
serves Mademoiselle, " appeared extremely happy at this 
news, while Monsieur was equally mortified. He tried to 
stop her departure, but the King told him plainly that her 
journey was undertaken in his interests, and at his command. 
After that, there was nothing more to be said." 

The Royal Family accompanied Henrietta as far as Lille. 
Here M. de Pomponne, the French envoy at the Hague, 
came to pay his respects to Madame, and had a long con- 
versation with her on the evening before her departure. As 
the son of Arnauld d'Andilly, the venerable patriarch of Port- 
Royal, Pomponne was intimately connected with many of 
Madame's friends, and he gladly availed himself of this op- 
portunity to become better acquainted with this admired 
Princess. And, like everyone else, he came away deeply im- 
pressed by her charms and talents. '' I confess," he wrote 
afterwards, " that I was surprised to find such grasp of mind 
and capacity for business in a princess, whose womanly graces 
seemed to have destined her to be the ornament of her sex. 
I found that she was aware of the orders which I had received 
not to enter into any solid alliance with the States, and 
showed great indignation with Temple for his dislike of 
I'rance, a feeling that he could not hide. However, she 
assured me that he would not long be able to oppose us. 
P'rom what the King had said to me of the hope which he 
had of securing the friendship of the King of England, and 
from what Madame confirmed, it was easy to see that the 
journey of this Princess to London was not merely undertaken 
for the simple [pleasure of seeing the King, her brother.'' 

The next day Madame set out for Dunkirk. The whole 



VISIT TO DOVER. 331 

Court came to bid her farewell, but Henrietta's joy at the 
prospect of seeing her brother was sadly marred by her hus- 
band's unkindness. When the time for parting came, she 
could not hide her tears, and Mademoiselle was shocked at 
the bitterness with which Monsieur spoke of his wife's influ- 
ence with both the Kings, after she was gone. 

A suite of no less than 237 persons accompanied Madame. 
Among her five maids-of-honour was Louise de Kerolialle, 
the daughter of a poor Breton gentleman of noble family, who 
had lately entered her service, and whose baby face was to 
make so profound an impression on Charles II. Besides the 
members of her household and a crowd of attendants, includ- 
ing doctors, chaplains, grooms and maids, she was escorted by 
the Marechal de Plessis, the Bishop of Tournay, the Comte 
and Comtesse de Gramont, Anthony Hamilton, and a few 
other personages of high rank, whom the King had chosen to 
form her escort. On the evening of the 24th of May, this 
brilliant company embarked on board the English ships. At 
five o'clock the next morning, when the cliffs of Dover were 
coming into sight, a boat was seen rowing at full speed to- 
wards the fleet. Madame hurried on deck, and presently her 
eyes were gladdened by the sight of both her brothers, the 
King and the Duke of York, who, accompanied by Prince 
Rupert and the Duke of Monmouth, had come to welcome 
her. After a joyous meeting, they all landed at Dover, and 
conducted Madame to the Castle, which had been prepared 
for her reception, while the members of her numerous suite 
found lodgings in the town. " Madame is here in perfect 
health," wrote Colbert de Croissy, who had come to Dover to 
meet her. " The King of England has sent for the Queen 
and the Duchess of York, and is doing all he can to enliven 
this dreary place, and make it agreeable to Madame." 

No time was lost in setting to work, but since it was plain 
that the original three days granted by Monsieur would not 
suffice to complete the negotiations, Louis XIV. wrote from 
Dunkirk on the 31st of May, saying that, with his brother's 
consent, Madame might prolong her visit for another ten or 
twelve days. The Duke of York had been summoned to 
London, owing to rumours of disturbances in the city, which 



1 T O 



TREATY OF DOVER. 



proved happily untrue, but his absence rather facihtated the 
progress of affairs, which his zeal, as a newly-converted 
Romanist, might have hampered. Both Charles II. and 
Madame agreed that it would be desirable to defer any public 
declaration of the King's change of religion for the present. 
On the other hand, Henrietta urged her brother to join in an 
offensive as well as defensive alliance against the States, and 
did her utmost to remove the obstacles which still delayed the 
conclusion of the Commercial Treaty. " Commerce," wrote 
Colbert be Croissy to his master, " is the idol of Great Britain's 
worship." And the rights of the fleet was the one point on 
which even Charles II. was in earnest. By degrees, however, 
Madame's tact and cleverness succeeded in smoothing away 
these difficulties. She reconciled those old rivals, Buckingham 
and Arlington, and recovered her old influence over the 
Duke, without allowing him to become a party to the secret 
articles of the Treaty. On the 30th of May she told the 
French Ambassador that she had already changed her brother's 
mind, and that he was almost inclined to declare war against 
Holland on the spot. And she went so far as to suggest that 
the Mar^chal de Turenne should be sent over, on pretence of 
escorting her home, to discuss the most advisable measures. 
But this idea was given up, as too likely to excite suspicion 
in both countries. The fears of the Dutch had already been 
aroused by Madame's expedition, but the secret of the nego- 
tiations was so well kept that Van Benninghen, who had been 
charged to keep a sharp watch on her proceedings, wrote 
home that the State need fear nothing, and that feasting and 
rejoicing were the order of the day at Dover. 

On the 1st of June, six days after her landing, the Secret 
Treaty was signed at Dover by Colbert de Croissy on one 
hand, and by Lord Arlington, Lord Arundel, Sir Thomas 
Clifford, and Sir Richard Bellings on the other. Its chief 
articles are given by Mignet as follows :—" The King of 
England will make a public profession of the Catholic faith, 
and will receive the sum of two millions of crowns, to aid him 
in this project, from the Most Christian King, in the course of 
the next six months. The date of this declaration is left 
absolutely to his own pleasure. The King of l^^rancc will 



TREATY OF DOVER. 333 

faithfully observe the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, as regards 
Spain, and the King of England will maintain the Treaty of 
the Triple Alliance in a similar manner. If new rights to 
the Spanish monarchy revert to the King of France, the King 
of England will aid him in maintaining these rights. The 
two Kings will declare war against the United Provinces. 
The King of France will attack them by land, and will receive 
the help of 6000 men from England. The King of England 
will send 50 men-of-war to sea, and the King of France 30 ; 
the combined fleets will be under the Duke of York's com- 
mand. His Brittanic Majesty will be content to receive 
Walcheren, the mouth of the Scheldt, and the isle of Cadzand, 
as his share of the conquered provinces. Separate articles 
will provide for the interests of the Prince of Orange. The 
Treaty of Commerce, which has been already begun, shall be 
concluded as promptly as possible." 

As soon as the Treaty had been signed, the French 
Ambassador crossed over to Boulogne, and there delivered it 
to his royal master. On the 14th of June the first ratifications 
were secretly exchanged between the two Kings. The direct 
object of Madame's journey having been thus accomplished, 
the remainder of her visit was spent in pleasant intercourse 
with the royal family. The mourning for the Queen-mother 
was still general, and Madame's grief for her mother was re- 
newed by the sight of the familiar scenes and faces which re- 
called her presence. But she was too happy in the com- 
panionship of her brother, and in the society of her relatives 
and friends, to sorrow long. On the 29th of May, Queen 
Catherine arrived at Dover, and was soon on the most affec- 
tionate terms with her sister-in-law. Henrietta afterwards 
described her to Mademoiselle as " a very good woman, not 
handsome, but so kind and excellent that it was impossible 
not to love her." In the Duchess of York she welcomed an 
old friend, whose cleverness and good sense she warmly 
recognised. The Duchess, on her part, had good reason 
to be grateful to Henrietta for the kindness with which 
she had treated her daughter, the little Princess Anne, 
whom she insisted on keeping at Saint-Cloud with her own 
children. 



334 MADAME AT DOVER. 

The anniversary of the Restoration was celebrated with 
great rejoicings. One day the King took his sister to Canter- 
bury, where a ballet and comedy were acted before her, 
followed by a sumptuous collation in the hall of St. Augustine's 
Abbey. On another day, the 8th of June, the royal party 
sailed in yachts along the coast, and went on board the fleet. 
" Many of our expeditions are on the sea," wrote a member 
of Henrietta's suite, "where Madame is as bold as she is on 
land, and walks as fearlessly along the edge of the ships, as 
she does on shore.'' Wherever she went, she won all hearts, 
and was adored alike by the Court and the people. But the 
hours flew by all too fast, and soon the time for departure 
came. Charles showed his grief by loading his sister with 
presents for herself and her friends. He gave her 6000 
pistoles to defray the expenses of her journey, presented her 
with 2000 gold crowns to build a chapel at Chaillot as a 
memorial to her mother, and, on the eve of her departure, 
gave her another magnificent present of jewels. At the 
same time he begged her, with a smile, to leave one of her own 
jewels with him, as a parting souvenir. Henrietta at once 
bade her maid-of-honour, Mdlle. de Keroualle, fetch her casket, 
and told the King to chooge whatever he liked. Upon this, 
Charles took the fair maiden by the hand, and begged his 
sister to allow her to remain in England, declaring that this 
was the only jewel which he coveted. But Madame, to her 
credit, absolutely refused to grant this request, and told the 
King that she was responsible to Mdlle. de Keroualle's parents 
for their child, and had promised to bring back the girl with 
her to France. Charles, however, did not forget the Breton 
maiden with the lovely face, and when, a few months later, 
Madame's death left her without a protector, he sent for 
Louise de la Keroualle to England, and appointed her maid- 
of-honour to his wife. " Madame's death," wrote Bussy, " has 
been the cause of La Keroualle's good fortune. If it had 
not been for that, she would hardly have found so exalted a 
lover in France." 

On the 1 2th of June, Henrietta started on her homeward 
journey. As she set foot on the ship that was to bear her 
back to France, the poet Waller who, twenty years before, had 



waller's sonnet. S3^ 

celebrated her rescue by Lady Morton, now presented her 
with the following ode : — 

"That sun of beauty did among us rise, 
England first saw the light of your fair eyes ; 
In England, too, your early wit was shown ; 
Favour that language, which was then your own 
When, though a child, through guards you made your way, 
What fleet or army could an angel stay ? 
Thrice happy Britain ! if she could retain 
Whom she first bred within her ancient main. 
Our late burned London, in apparel new, 
Shook oflfher ashes, to have treated you ; 
But we must see our glory snatched away, 
And with warm tears increase the guilty sea ; 
No wind can favour us. Howe'er it blows, 
We must be wretched, and our dear treasure lose ! 
Sighs will not let us half our sorrow tell, 
Fair, lovely, great and best of nymphs, farewell." 

The King and the Duke of York, who had returned to 
bid his sister good-bye, accompanied Madame on board, and 
sailed with her for some distance. Then they were forced 
to part. Three times over Charles bade his sister a tender 
farewell, and each time returned to embrace her once more, 
as if he could not bear to let her go. Henrietta wept 
bitterly, and the French Ambassador declared he had never 
witnessed so sorrowful a leave-taking, or known before how 
much royal personages could love one another. The sea was 
smooth, the wind favourable, and before Madame's tears were 
dried, the noise of the Calais guns, firing royal salutes in her 
honour, woke her from her mournful dream. That evening 
she attended a service at the church of the Minimes, and the 
next day heard mass at the Capuchins, before starting for 
Boulogne. Wherever she stopped she was received with 
royal honours. At Montreuil the Due d'Elboeuf entertained 
her splendidly. At Abbeville an escort of the King's guards 
met her and attended her to Beauvais, where the English 
Ambassador, Ralph Montagu, was waiting to conduct her to 
Saint-Germain. The King and Queen had intended to meet 
her there, but Monsieur positively refused to accompany them, 
and Louis refrained from an act which would have made his 



336 madame's return. 

brother's absence more remarkable. All Monsieur would do 
was to meet his wife a (cw miles from Saint-Germain and 
bring her back with him to the chateau, where, on the i8th 
of June, her return was warmly welcomed by the whole of 
the royal family. 

So Madame came back to France. The King treated her 
with the highest consideration, both in public and in private. 
He gave her a fresh present of 6000 pistoles towards her 
expenses, begging her to keep her brother's gift for her own 
use, and acknowledged his obligations to her in every possible 
manner. The Queen and Mademoiselle were delighted to see 
her, apparently restored to health, and looking as bright and 
beautiful as of old. " Taui elle paraissait belle et contoUe." 
She had much to tell them about England, and spoke freely 
of her brother's kindnesses, and of the affection with which 
she had been received by her sister-in-law. Only the mention 
of her mother, says Mademoiselle, renewed her old grief for 
that lady, whom she had loved so well, and brought tears to 
her eyes. All the Court hailed her return with delight. She 
seemed to have brought back joy and sunshine with her. But 
Monsieur was ina more evil mood than ever. He sullenly 
refused to accompany the King when he moved to Versailles 
on the 20th of June. "This," Mademoiselle remarks, ''was 
done out of spite to Madame." When the Queen and Made- 
moiselle parted from her, they both noticed how she struggled 
with her tears, and how at length they flowed fast, in spite of 
all her efforts. She now accompanied her husband to Paris, 
where the foreign ambassadors and chief personages at Court 
flocked to congratulate her on her return. Her journey to 
England had been the talk of all Paris, and all sorts of 
rumours were afloat. Oliver D'Ormesson and Gui Patin both 
dwell on the great consideration in which Madame was held 
by Louis XIV., and the extraordinary reception she had met 
with in England. And our friend Vernon writes : — 

" There is all the buzzing and rumour in the world that 
Madame hath had a secret negotiation with His Majesty, that 
she hath made several presents at Court, and at last prevailed, 
and that the triple alliance is quite to be broken ; that indeed 



LAST DAYS AT SAINT-CLOUD. 337 

for a colour, things are to be continued in their ancient 
channel for a little while, but that at last the disguise is to 
be taken off, and the King of England to unite publicly with 
the King of France. These, because they are town news, 
and invented only to keep their tongues in use, it being an 
idle time and they having nothing else to busy themselves 
about ; I think, therefore, the less notice is to be taken of 
them." 

On the 24th of June, Madame went to Saint-Cloud with 
her husband and children. There she enjoyed the beautiful 
summer weather, and the company of her friends. Treville, 
Turenne, La Fare, La Rochefoucauld, Madame de La Fayette, 
Ralph Montagu and two other young Englishmen, then on a 
visit to Paris, Sir Thomas Armstrong and Lord Poulett were 
among those who saw her during that last week of her life. 
Together they talked of books and poetry, of England and 
of the pleasant days which she had lately spent there. 
Together they took long rambles in the gardens, then in all 
the glory of their midsummer loveliness. Madame sang and 
played the guitar to her friends. She talked with all her 
accustomed animation, and with more than her wonted 
charm. Her friends thought they Jiad never seen her more 
brilliant and beautiful. But they did not know the perpetual 
troubles that vexed her heart, and were fretting out her very 
life. Monsieur would give her no peace. He persisted in 
declaring that the Chevalier de Lorraine's exile was her 
doing, and in telling her that he would never rest till his 
favourite had been recalled. On the 26th of June, she wrote 
a last letter to Madame de Saint-Chaumont : — 

" I knew you would understand the joy which my visit to 
England gave me. It was indeed most delightful, and, long 
as I have known the affection of my brother, the King, it 
proved still greater than I expected. He showed me the 
greatest possible kindness, and was ready to help me in all 
that he could do. Since my return, the King here has been 
very good to me, but as for Monsieur, nothing can equal his 
bitterness and anxiety to find fault. He does me the honour 

Y 



35^ LETTER OF MADAME. 

to say that I am all-powerful, and can do everything that I 
like, and so, if I do not bring back the Chevalier, it is because 
I do not wish to please him. At the same time he joins 
threats for the future with this kind of talk. I have once 
more told him how little his favourite's return depends upon 
me, and how little I get my own way, or you would not be 
where you now are. Instead of seeing the truth of this, and 
becoming softened, he took occasion of my remark to go and 
complain of you to the King, and tried, at the same time, to 
do me other ill offices. This has had a very bad effect, 
together with the letter which you wrote to my child, and 
which, they pretend, was delivered to her secretly, and has, 
I fear, increased the King's unfavourable opinion of you. I 
have not yet had time to defend you, but you may trust me 
to do the best I can for you, and to prove that I am not 
unworthy of the friendship which you have so often shown 
me. If I cannot do away with these unfortunate impressions, 
I will at least try to remove the false reports by which they 
have been occasioned. I have often blamed you for the 
tender love you feel for my child. In God's name, put that 
love away. The poor child cannot return your affection, and 
will, alas ! be brought up to hate me. You had better keep 
your love for persons who are as grateful as I am, and who 
feel, as keenly as I do, the pain of being unable to help you 
in your present need. I hope that you will do me the justice 
to believe this, and will remain, once for all, assured that I 
shall never lose a chance of helping you, and of showing you 
my tenderness. Since my return from England, the King 
has gone to Versailles, where Monsieur would not follow 
him, lest I should have the pleasure of being with him." 

The very day that Madame wrote this letter, Monsieur 
received an order from the King to bring his wife to see the 
Queen. He consented with a very bad grace, and the after- 
noon and evening were spent at Versailles. Here Madame 
had a long and animated conversation with the King, on the 
subject of the Treaty with England. Unfortunately, Monsieur 
entered the room while they were talking, and was much 
offended because his brother refused to continue the discus- 



LAST DAYS. 339 

sion before him. Again, at dinner, a young relative of 
Madame de Montespan, M. de Tonnay-Charente, who had 
been to England with Madame, and happened to be in wait- 
ing that day, began to describe the splendour of her reception 
at Dover, and dwelt especially on the attentions which had 
been paid her by the young Duke of Monmouth. No subject 
could have been more unfortunate. Monsieur grew more and 
more furious, and the King, after vainly trying to change the 
conversation, rose from table, not without remarking, to 
Madame, that the youth must have been born in Madagascar. 
All this affected Madame visibly. Both the Queen and 
Mademoiselle noticed how ill she looked, and saw the tears in 
her eyes when she took leave of them. After her departure, 
they both pitied her extremely, and the Queen was heard to 
observe, " Madame bears death plainly written in her face." 

The heat was very great all these days, and on the follow- 
ing morning Madame bathed in the Seine, contrary to the 
advice of her doctor, M. Yvelin. Afterwards she felt very 
unwell, and complained of sharp pains in her side. The 
fatigue and excitement of her visit to England, where she 
had not given herself a moment's rest, and the excessive heat 
of the weather during her journey home, seemed sufficient to 
account for this, and her doctors merely prescribed rest and 
quiet. 

On the afternoon of Saturday, the 28th of June, Montagu 
paid her a visit at Saint-Cloud, and had a lohg conversation 
with her, which was interrupted by Monsieur's entrance. 
She spoke to the Ambassador of the recent negotiations 
between the two Kings, and of the alliance against Holland 
into which they had entered. And she told him, too, how 
badly her husband had treated her since her return, and how 
impossible it seemed to live happily with him. With these 
thoughts in her mind she sat down early the next morning 
and wrote a long letter to the Princess Palatine. A copy of 
this letter was found in the papers of Cardinal de Retz, and 
afterwards passed into M. Monmerqu^'s collection. It was 
first published in the Archives de la Bastille, and has since 
then appeared in M. Anatole France's introduction to Madame 
dc La Fayette's book, Anne de Gonzague, the wife of 



340 madame's last letter. 

Edward, Prince Palatine, had always been a friend of 
Monsieur. In old days, it will be remembered, she had 
helped to arrange his marriage with her young cousin, and 
had lately done her best to reconcile him to his wife's visit 
to England. " The Duke and Duchess of Orleans had 
quarrelled," wrote Gui Patin, in April, " but the Princess 
Palatine has helped the King to make peace between them." 
And the English secretaries say the same in their letters 
home. It was, therefore, only natural that Madame should 
wish to give the Princess some account of her journey, and 
should, with her usual frankness, unburden her heart to this 
kind and sympathetic friend. 

" De St Cloud, 

" 29 //«■//, 1670. 

"It is only fair that I should give you an account of a 

journey which you tried to render acceptable in the only 

quarter where it could fail to meet with approval. I will 

confess that, on my return, I had hoped to find everyone 

satisfied, instead of which, things are worse than ever. You 

remember telling me that Monsieur insisted on three things : 

first, that I should place him in confidential relations with the 

King, my brother; secondly, that I should ask the King to 

give him his son's allowance ; thirdly, that I should help the 

Chevalier de Lorraine. The King, my brother, was so kind 

as to promise that he would willingly trust Monsieur with his 

secrets if he would behave better in future than he had done 

with regard to my journey. He even offered to give the 

Chevalier de Lorraine a refuge in his kingdom till affairs 

should have calmed down here. He could do no more for 

him. As for the pension, I have great hopes of obtaining it, 

if only Monsieur will put an end to the comedy which he 

still presents to the public gaze, but you will understand that 

I cannot ask for this, after the way in which he behaved, 

unless I can satisfy the King that our domestic peace will be 

restored, and that he will no longer hold me responsible for 

everything that happens in Europe. I have said all this to 

him, expecting it would be well received, but since there is 

no prospect of the Chevalier's immediate return. Monsieur 

declares that all the rest is useless, and says I am never to 



madame's last letter. 341 

expect to be restored to his good graces until I have given 
him back his favourite. I am, I must confess, very much 
surprised at this behaviour on his part. Monsieur wished for 
my brother's friendship, and, now I offer it to him, he accepts 
it as if he were doing the King a favour. He refuses to send 
the Chevalier to England, as if these things could blow over 
in the next quarter of an hour, and scorns the offer of the 
pension. If he reflects at all, it is impossible for him to go 
on in this manner, and I can only suppose that he is bent on 
quarrelling with me. The King was good enough to assure 
him, on his oath, that I had no part in the Chevalier's exile, 
and that his return did not depend upon me. Unfortunately 
for me, he refused to believe the King, who has never been 
known to utter a falsehood, and it will be still more unfor- 
tunate if I cannot help him while it is yet possible. You 
see now, my dear cousin, the state of my affairs. Of the 
three things which Monsieur desired, I can obtain two and a 
half, and he is angry because I cannot do more, and counts 
the King, my brother's, friendship and his own advantage all 
as nothing. As for me, I have done more than I could have 
hoped. But if I am unhappy enough for Monsieur to go on 
treating me so unkindly, I declare, my dear cousin, that I 
shall give it all up, and take no more trouble as to his 
pension or his favourite's return, or his friendship with the 
King, my brother. Two of the three things are hard to 
obtain, and others might think them of great importance, but 
I have only to drop the subject, and maintain the same 
silence as Monsieur, who refuses to speak when I desire an 
explanation. As for the Chevalier's return, even if my credit 
were as great as Monsieur believes it to be, I never will give 
way to blows (coups-de-bdton). If Monsieur therefore refuses to 
accept the two things which he can have, and insists on get- 
ting the third, which must depend on the King's pleasure, I 
can only await the knowledge of Monsieur's will in silence. 
If he desires me to act I will do it joyfully, for I have no 
greater wish than to be on good terms with him. If not, I 
will keep silence and patiently bear all his unkindness, with- 
out trying to defend myself His hatred is unreasonable, but 
his esteem may be earned. I may say that I have neither 



342 madame's last letter. 

deserved the first, nor am I altogether unworthy of the last, 
and I still console myself with the hope that it may some 
day be obtained. You can do more than anyone else to 
help me, and I am so persuaded that you have my good and 
Monsieur's at heart, that I hope you will still endeavour to 
assist me. I will only remind you of one thing. If you let 
a good chance slip by, it does not always return again. The 
present moment seems to be favourable for obtaining the 
pension, and the future is, to say the least, doubtful. After 
this, I must tell you that your pension from England will be 
paid shortly. The King, my brother, gave me his word for 
it, and those persons whose business it is to see this done 
promised to afford the necessary facilities. If you were here 
we would take further steps to settle the business, for you 
know that I was not sufficiently acquainted with the par- 
ticulars of your affairs to do more than repeat what you had 
told me. If I can give you any further proofs of my affection, 
I will do so with all the pleasure in the world." 

The authenticity of this long and interesting letter has 
been disputed by many of the best French critics. Both in 
style and sentiment, however, it agrees exactly with Henri- 
etta's letters to Madame de Saint-Chaumont, and the follow- 
ing despatch from Ralph Montagu may be considered to 
settle the question. This important note is preserved among 
the French correspondence in the Record Office, but seems 
hitherto to have escaped observation. Writing to Arlington, 
a month after Madame's death, the Ambassador sends him 
the letter which she had written a few hours before she died, 
and which he feels sure the King will be glad to see. 

" Paris, 

" \st of August 1670. 

" My Lord, — I am to-morrow to goe to Saint Germain 
to an audience, and this is only to send your Lordship this 
enclosed, which is a letter that Madame, since her returnc 
from England, writ to the Princesse Palatine. It was writ 
the morning she dyed. It is worth the King's seeing, because 
it is soe well writ, and doth alsoe give an exact account of 



MADAM e'S last LETTER. 343 

everything that concerns her. There is nothing more worth 
troubling your Lordship with, from my Lord, Your Lord- 
ship's most faithful, most obedient servant, 

" R. Montagu." 

Here, then, we have the last words that were traced by 
Henrietta's pen. This letter, which was written so short a 
time before her death, contains a full and frank statement of 
the quarrel between herself and her husband. It is plain, as 
she told Madame de Saint-Chaumont, that Monsieur will be 
satisfied with nothing short of his favourite's return. But, at 
least, she will make one last attempt at conciliation, through 
this mutual friend. If that, too, fails, there will be nothing 
left but to bear his cruelty patiently, and wait in the hope 
that he may some day come to a better mind. So she writes 
on that bright summer morning. The tone of the letter is 
sad, almost hopeless. Life has proved too hard for her. She 
is utterly weary and out of heart. Health and spirits have 
failed her, and she is old and worn-out before her time The 
present is well-nigh intolerable. The future is dark and 
desperate. There is no one at hand to help her. Where^ 
then, can she turn ? And out of the deep of despair and 
misery, her cry goes up to Heaven, that cry with which she 
has turned to Bossuet — " I have thought too little of my soul. 
Help me, if it is not too late, to find the way of salvation." 



CHAPTER XXV 

1670 

Sudden Illness and Death of Madame at Saint-Clovul, on Monday, June 30. 

At ten o'clock on the evening of Saturday, the 28th of June, 
Madame de La Fayette arrived at Saint-Cloud. Madame 
had sent to tell her that she was ailing, and had begged her 
to spend Sunday with her. She complained of the pain in 
her side which had lately troubled her, but, after supper, she 
walked with her friend in the gardens, and sat on her favourite 
seat, by the Grande Cascade, in the moonlight. It was past 
twelve before they went indoors, and Madame retired to rest. 
She rose early the next morning, and probably wrote the 
letter to the Princess Palatine before leaving her room. 
After a long talk with Monsieur, she paid Madame de La 
Fayette a visit, and told her that she had slept well, but was 
very unhappy. " Yet the ill-humour of which she com- 
plained," adds Madame de La Fayette, " would have been 
thought charming in other women, so great was her natural 
sweetness, and so incapable was she of anger and of bitter- 
ness." Presently she went to mass, and, as she returned, 
leaning on Madame de La Fayette's arm, she said, in the 
gentle tone of voice peculiar to her, that she should not feel 
so cross if she could talk to her, but that she was tired of all 
the people about her, and could not endure their presence. 
After some conversation she went to look at the portrait of 
her child, the little Mademoiselle, which was being painted 
by an English artist, and then talked of her journey to 
P^ngland, and of her brother, the King. This revived her 
spirits, and another intimate friend of hers, the widowed 
Duchesse d'Epernon, having arrived, Madame talked to the 

344 



madame's sudden illness. 345 

two ladies with her accustomed vivacity. Madame de La 
Fayette had lately received a blow from the cornice of a 
mantelpiece, which had fallen on her head. This strange 
accident had excited as much amusement as compassion 
amongst her friends, and Bussy had written a witty letter 
expressing his regrets at hearing that a head so dear to 
Madame should have been so unkindly used. Madame, on 
hearing the story, insisted on unfastening Madame de La 
Fayette's hair, to examine the wound, and exclaimed : "Why, 
it might have killed you ! I wonder if you would have been 
afraid to die ? " And, after a moment's reflection, she added 
with a sigh : " As for me, I do not think 1 should be afraid 
of death." 

Dinner was served in Monsieur's rooms. lie and 
Madame's ladies were present, besides her two guests. The 
meal ended, Madame lay down on cushions spread on the 
floor, after her habit, keeping Madame de La Fayette close 
at her side, and fell fast asleep, while Monsieur talked to the 
ladies, and discussed his own portrait on which the English 
artist was also engaged. Madame de La Fayette, who had 
often seen the Princess in her sleep, then noticed for the first 
time a strange alteration in her face, and, when Henrietta 
woke up. Monsieur remarked how very ill she looked. She 
passed out into a hall, where she spoke for some minutes 
with Monsieur's treasurer, Boisfranc, stopping now and then 
to take breath, and complaining of the pain in her side. 
Monsieur had meanwhile gone downstairs, to start for Paris, 
after his daily habit, but, meeting Madame de Mecklembourg 
on the stairs, he brought her in to see Madame. Henrietta 
welcomed this new guest warmly, and they conversed to- 
gether until about five o'clock. A glass of iced chicory water, 
for which Madame had asked, was handed to her by one of 
her ladies, Madame de Gourdon. Hardly had she drunk the 
water, than she was seized with a violent pain in her side, and 
cried out, " Ah ! what a pain ! What shall I do ! I must be 
poisoned." Her ladies hastened to her assistance. They un- 
laced her gown, took off her clothes, and helped her to lie 
down on her bed. Madame de La Fayette, grieved at see- 
ing the tears in her eyes, kissed the arm that she was 



346 MADAM E'S LAST ILLNESS. 

supporting, and said that she feared she must be suffering 
acutely, for she knew that she was always the most patient 
person in the world. Madame replied that the pain was 
indeed frightful, and rolled to and fro in her agony. Mon- 
sieur's chief doctor, M. Esprit, was hastily summoned. He 
declared that Madame was suffering from colique, and pre- 
scribed some ordinary remedies. Still her pains only became 
worse, and those about her were horrified to hear her ask for 
her confessor, and say that she was certainly going to die. 
Monsieur now entered the room. She turned to embrace 
him, and said, with a sweetness and charm that would have 
melted the hardest heart : " Alas I Monsieur, you have long 
ceased to love me, but you have been unjust to me. I never 
wronged you." Monsieur was deeply touched by these words, 
and all who stood by burst into tears. 

]3ut still Madame complained of terrible pains. Suddenly 
she exclaimed again that she had been poisoned, and begged 
that the water of which she had drunk might be examined. 
At these words, Madame de La Fayette, who stood in the 
alcove close to the bedside at Monsieur's side, looked narrowly 
at him. He seemed neither embarrassed nor yet distressed, 
but merely said that, if this were the case, emetics had better 
be sent for, and some of the chicory water given to a dog. 
Madame Desbordes, Henrietta's oldest and most attached 
servant, said that she had mixed the chicory water, and, 
taking the bottle from a shelf, drank of the water out of the 
same cup, in Madame's presence. Monsieur's first valet, 
Merille, meanwhile brought an emetic which Madame 
swallowed, but which only seemed to increase her pains. 
Her exhaustion now became greater every moment, and she 
said repeatedly that there was no help for it, for that she 
knew she must die. " It seemed," says Madame de La 
Fayette, " that she felt confident she was dying, and, with 
great calmness and courage, she prepared to meet her end. 
The idea of poison had taken hold of her mind, and, seeing 
that all remedies appeared useless, she no longer thought of life, 
but only tried to bear her suffering patiently." 

One of her attendants, Madame de Gamachcs, now felt 
her pulse, and, to her Jiorror, declared that Madame had no 



madame's last illness. 347 

pulse, and that her hands and feet were growing cold and 
numb. Upon this, Monsieur became alarmed, and, when M. 
Esprit declared that this was commonly the case in similar 
attacks, and that he could answer for Madame's life, he re- 
plied angrily that M. Esprit had answered for the little Due 
de Valois's life, but that the child had died, and that he now 
pretended to answer for Madame, while she too was dying. 
By this time, the Cure de Saint-Cloud had arrived. Madame 
made her confession quietly, and whispered a (cw gentle 
words in Monsieur's ear, after which he asked her if she 
would consent to be bled in the arm, as M. Esprit advised. 
"Let him do what he likes," she replied, "it is all the same, 
nothing can save me." 

She had now been ill during more than three hours, and 
showed no signs of improvement. M. Yvelin, her own 
physician, and M. Vallot, the King's doctor, who had also 
been summoned from Versailles, held a consultation together, 
and agreed that there could be no danger. Monsieur re- 
peated their opinion to his wife, upon which she replied 
calmly, but quite decidedly, that they were wrong, for that 
she knew there was no hope. The Prince de Cond6 now 
entered the room. Madame told him that she was dying, 
and hoped soon to be out of pain. But the doctors persisted 
in saying that she was better, and out of danger, and her 
ladies began to feel consoled. Madame d'Epernon and 
Madame de La Fayette both tried to cheer her, by saying 
that now, at least. Monsieur would treat her more kindly 
since the sight of her suffering had caused him so much dis- 
tress. But all the while Madame herself said that she was no 
better, and declared that her pains were so great, she would 
put an end of her life if she were not a Christian. " I sup- 
pose it is wrong," she added, " to wish others harm, but I 
must saj^ I wish the doctors could feel for one moment what 
I am suffering, and then they might, perhaps, understand my 
condition." She changed her bed, and was able to walk 
across the room, but began to get worse directly she lay 
down. One of the doctors now held a candle to her face, and 
when Monsieur asked if it hurt her eyes, she replied : " Ah I 
no, Monsieur, nothing hurts me now. I shall not be alive to- 



348 MADAME'S DEATII-liED. 

morrow morning, you will see." A cup of soup was given 
her, which only brought back her pains with increased 
violence. Even the doctors now began to be alarmed. They 
owned that the numbness of her limbs was a bad sign, and 
feared the worst. 

At this moment, the King and Queen arrived. The news 
of Madame's illness had reached Versailles, and the King had 
sent repeated messages of inquiry to Saint-Cloud. At nine 
o'clock the Due de Cr(§qui arrived in haste, bringing him 
word that Madame was dying. He had come straight from 
her chamber, and declared that, whatever the doctors might 
say, she had the look of a dying woman on her face. Louis 
XIV, ordered his carriage, and said he would go to her at 
once. Madame se ineiirt — the news flew like wildfire through 
Versailles. Mademoiselle paints the horror and dismay with 
which the words passed from lip to lip. She was walking in 
the garden, on the banks of the ornamental water, with the 
Queen, when a message from Madame herself was brought to 
Marie Th^r^se, begging her to lose no time if she wished to 
find her alive. They set off immediately with the King and 
the Comtesse de Soissons, once Madame's bitter enemy. On 
the way, the Queen spoke of the horrible rumours of poison 
which had got abroad, and was full of compassion for her 
sister-in-law, and of indignation at Monsieur's unkindness. 
Vallot, who met them on his return from Saint-Cloud, 
informed the King that Madame's illness was merely an 
attack of colic, and would soon pass off. But when they 
reached the palace, their own eyes told them a very different 
tale. 

Madame lay there, stretched on a little bed, with her 
nightdress unfastened and her hair loose. Her face was 
deadly pale, her features drawn and sunken. " She had," 
says Mademoiselle, " already the air of a corpse." " You see 
the state I am in," she said, as the King entered the room. 
Louis spoke tenderly to her, and tried to cheer her with hopes 
of recovery. But she shook her head, and told him the first 
thing he would hear the next morning would be the news 
of her death. She roused herself to embrace the King 
and Queen, and spoke affectionately to them both. Then 



madame's death-bed. 349 



she pressed Mademoiselle's hand, and said : " You are losing 
a good friend, who was beginning to know and love you." 
The King began to reason with the doctors. " Surely," he 
said, " 5^ou will not let a woman die without trying to save 
her." But they could only look at each other helplessly, 
and had not a word to say. The King returned to Madame's 
bedside and told her that, although no physician himself, he 
had proposed a dozen different remedies, but that the doctors 
were still of opinion that it would be wiser not to administer 
them at present. Madame shrugged her shoulders, and 
replied that she supposed she must die according to proper 
form. Louis could only embrace her, and bid her turn her 
thoughts to God. 

Never before had the halls of Saint-Cloud, that palace 
of delight, witnessed so strange a scene. The doors were 
crowded with courtiers, with princes and princesses, ministers 
and ladies of rank, all coming and going, standing about in 
the passages, and waiting anxiously for the latest news. A 
few, frivolous even in the presence of death, were talking and 
laughing in under-toncs. But most faces were full of sorrow. 
And, in the darkened chamber within, the King, with tears 
streaming down his cheeks, was clasping Madame in a last 
farewell. " Kiss me, sire," she said, " for the last time. Ah, 
sire ! do not weep for me, or you will make me weep too. 
You are losing a good servant, who has always feared the loss 
of your good graces more than death itself" 

On her other side stood the Queen in tears, and Monsieur, 
looking more bewildered than distressed, while Mademoiselle 
knelt at the foot of the bed, sobbing aloud. Many others, 
who had known Madame in the days of youth and joy, were 
there now. There was the great soldier, Conde, and his old 
rival, Turenne. There were her faithful friends, Madame 
d'Epernon and Madame de La Fayette, and there, standing 
apart, with a look of silent agony on his face, was Tr6ville, 
the brilliant and accomplished Treville, the wittiest man in 
France ; Treville, who had adored Madame from afar, and 
would have given his life to save her. And there, too, strange 
companions in the chamber of death, were La Valliere and 
Montespan, the King's rival mistresses, who had both of 



350 MADAME S DEATH-BED. 

them, in old days, been maids-of-honour to Madame, and who 
now came together to see her die. 

There she lay, with all these familiar faces about her, 
strangely calm in the intervals of her agony, speaking kindly 
to each in turn, and talking naturally of her approaching end. 
From the first, she never had a hope of recovery, and did not 
once express regret at the cruel fate which snatched her away 
in the flower of her youth. Her presence of mind and 
thoughtfulness for others never left her. She took a kind 
farewell of the grey-headed Mari^chal de Gramont, the father 
of the Comte de Guiche, and brother of Madame de Saint- 
Chaumont ; and the fine old man bade her adieu in the most 
touching words. " You are losing a good friend in me," she 
said, and added that she had at first thought herself poisoned 
by accident. Then, catching sight of Tr^ville, who stood in 
the background overcome with grief, she said, "Adieu, Tr^ville, 
adie7i!'* The King now bade Madame farewell, and left 
the room, unable to restrain his tears. The Queen followed 
his example, after a last embrace, and Mademoiselle was so 
overwhelmed with grief that she left the room without daring 
to approach Madame. By this time they were all convinced 
that she was dying, and the King told Monsieur that a priest 
must be summoned without delay, since Madame had asked 
repeatedly for the last sacraments. Monsieur hesitated, and 
asked whose name would appear best in the Gazette. For- 
tunately, someone said that Madame had asked for M. 
de Condom. "He will do excellently," replied Monsieur; 
" Madame has often talked with him." And three couriers 
were despatched in haste to Paris to bring Bossuet to Saint- 
Cloud. 

Meanwhile, Madame de La Fayette had already sent for 
M. Feuillet, a Jansenist canon of Saint-Cloud, whose apostolic 
fervour was highly esteemed by her friends ac Port-Royal. 
The severity of his doctrines did not find favour at Court, and 
Boileau had styled him in his satire the reformer of the 
universe. One day in Lent, when Feuillet happened to be 
at Saint-Cloud, Monsieur, who was as scrupulous, when the 
fit seized him, in matters of religion as in questions of etiquette, 
asked him if he might eat an orange without breaking his 



madame's death-bed. 351 

fast. The priest replied : " Eat an ox if you like, Monsieur, 
but pay your debts, and lead a Christian Hfe." The boldness 
of this answer had pleased Madame, and at this crisis 
Madame de La Fayette thought of him at once. 

Feuillet entered the room at eleven o'clock, as the King 
and Queen retired. 

" You see, M. Feuillet," said Madame, as he drew near, 
" the state to which I am reduced." 

"A very good state, Madame," replied the austere priest. 
" You will now confess that there is a God in Heaven, whom 
you have never really known." 

" It is too true," said Madame, sadly; "till now, my God, 
I have never really known Thee ! " 

Here her own confessor. Padre Zoccoli, a Capuchin, fit for 
little, Monsieur had observed, except to ride in her coach, 
tried to interfere, but Madame stopped him gently, and said, 
with a smile at Madame de La Fayette, " Allow M. Feuillet 
to speak now, my father, and you shall have your turn next." 

He then exhorted her to repent of her past sins, of the 
years which she had spent in selfish luxury, in frivolous 
pleasures and forgetfulness of God. He told her plainly that 
she had never known the true Christian faith, and she owned 
humbly that her past confession and communions had been 
worth little. By her own wish she made a general confession 
and then asked earnestly " that she might be allowed to 
receive Jesus Christ." Even the stern Jansenist priest was 
moved by her gentleness and humility. " God gave her," he 
wrote afterwards, " sentiments which surprised me, and made 
her speak in language altogether unlike that of the world to 
which she belonged." 

While Feuillet was still speaking, Ralph Montagu arrived. 
He had hastened to Saint-Cloud on receiving a summons 
which Madame de Mecklembourg had sent him, at Madame's 
request, and stood speechless with grief and horror at her 
bedside. 

She turned eagerly to him. 

" You see, I am dying/' she said. " Alas I how much I 
grieve for the King, my brother ! He is losing the person who 
loves him best in the whole world." 



352 MADAMES DEATH-BED. 

Many were the tender messages which she bade the 
Ambassador convey to the brother whom she had loved so 
well. She asked Montagu if he remembered their conversa- 
tion the day before, and what she had told him respecting the 
alliance with France and Holland, adding : " I beg you to tell 
my brother that I only urged him to do this, because I was 
convinced that it was for his own honour and advantage. 
I have always loved him better than life itself, and now 
my only regret in dying is to be leaving him." 

Again and again she repeated these words in English, 
and told Montagu not to forget them. The Ambassador then 
asked her in English, if she believed herself to have been 
poisoned. Here Feuillet interfered, catching the word 
poison, 

" Madame," he said, "you must accuse no one, but offer 
your life as a sacrifice to God." 

Montagu repeated the question, but she only shrugged 
her shoulders. Madame de La Fayette, however, heard her 
say in a low voice, which did not reach the Ambassador's 
ears : — 

" If this is true, you must never let the King, my brother, 
know it. Spare him that grief at all events, and, above all, 
do not let him take revenge on the King here, for he at least 
is not guilty." She then told her maid, Madame Desbordes, 
to give Montagu the casket that held her brother's letters, and 
recommended her poor servants to the King's care. Once 
more she sent the most affectionate messages to both of her 
brothers, and drawing a ring from off her fingers, bade 
Montagu give it, with her last and tenderest love, to the King 
of England. She again thanked Montagu for all his zeal and 
affection in her service and begged him to accept the 6000 pis- 
toles which Charles II. had given her, as a token of her regard. 
This he declined to do, but promised to distribute the money 
among those of her servants, whose names she mentioned. 

The Cure of Saint-Cloud now arrived, bringing the Host 
with him. Madame received the Viaticum with the greatest 
devotion, and asked for the crucifix which had belonged to 
her mother-in-law, Anne of Austria. After that she wished to 
see Monsieur, who had left the room, but who now came back, 



BOSSUET AT MADAMES DEATH-BED. 353 

weeping bitterly, and embraced her for the last time. She 
took leave of him, saying that she only wished to think of 
God. Some one who was present, observed that she seemed 
rather better. 

" Alas ! " said Madame, overhearing the remark, " they 
think I am better, because I have no longer strength to 
complain." 

Another doctor of great repute, M. Brayer, who had been 
summoned from Paris by the King's orders, now arrived, and 
made a last effort to save her, by bleeding her in the foot. 
But this remedy proved as ineffectual as the others, and 
seemed only to increase her pains. 

" Mo7i Dieu ! " she cried, '' when will these fearful pains 
cease ? " 

" What, Madame,'' said Feuillet, " are you already impa- 
tient? You have been sinning against God during twenty-six 
years, and you have only begun to do penance in these last 
six hours." Madame bowed her head humbly, and asked at 
what hour Christ died on the Cross. 

" At three o'clock," replied the priest. 

" Perhaps," she said gently, " He will allow me to die at the 
same hour." 

Extreme unction was now administered, and at the same 
moment Bossuet arrived. A gleam of joy lighted up Madame's 
pale face as he entered, and she turned herself towards him. 

" L'es/>/rance, Madame, Lesp^rance !" were his first words, 
as he flung himself on his knees, and placed the crucifix once 
more in her hands. 

" I put my whole trust in His mercy," she replied, joining 
her hands together. The few friends who were still present, 
Madame de La Fayette and Madame d'Epernon, the Marechal 
de Bellefonds, Treville and Montagu, fell on their knees while 
the great Bishop prayed for the passing soul with all the force 
and energy of his being. 

" My heart is with you," Madame whispered, as she 
followed his prayers. 

" You see, Madame," said Bossuet, rising from his knees, 
"you see what this life is. Thank God who calls you to 
Himself." 

Z 



354 DEATH OF MADAME. 

He paused, fearing to exhaust her rapidly faih'ng strength. 
But she signed to him to proceed. 

" Go on ! " she said faintly, " go on ! I ann listening ! " 

" You die, Madanne," he asked her, " in the Catholic Apos- 
tolic and Roman Faith?" 

" I have lived in that faith and I die in it," she replied in 
a clear voice. 

Her pains now returned with greater violence than ever, 
and Bossuet bade her offer them to God, in union with those 
of Our Lord on the Cross. 

" That is what I am trying to do," she replied. 

Holding the crucifix aloft before her failing eyes, the 
Bishop spoke words of hope and comfort " There is Christ," 
he said, " whose arms are stretched out to receive you ! He 
will give you eternal life, and raise up that suffering body in 
the glory of His Resurrection." 

" Credo ! credo ! " she replied fervently, and then sank back 
exhausted. 

The Bishop withdrew into the window seat, to give her a 
few minutes' rest, and knelt there in silent prayer. Then 
Madame, who was still perfectly conscious, remembered the 
present which she had ordered for him, and with that delicacy 
which marked all her actions, she whispered to one of her 
maids, in English : " Give M. de Condom the emerald ring 
which I have had made for him, when I am dead." 

A few moments afterwards, she said to M. Feuillet, who 
stood beside her. 

" It is all over ; call back M. de Condom." 

Bossuet returned and noticed the change in her appear- 
ance at once. 

" Madame," he said, " you believe in God, you hope in 
God, you love God ? " 

" With all my heart," she murmured, and never spoke 
again. The crucifix dropped from her hands, and as Bossuet 
uttered the last prayers. In i/ianus tiias, she died. 

It was three o'clock on the morning of the 30th of June. 

" Thus," writes the Bishop of Valence, " this great and 
royal-hearted princess passed away, without ever having shown 
the least sign of trouble or weakness in this awful surprise. 



DEATH OF MADAME. 355 

All she said and did was perfectly natural and without effort, 
and they who saw and heard her, know that she spoke from 
her heart. The whole of France, mourning as it does for her, 
is edified by the sight of her piety, and amazed at her great 
and heroic courage." 

" I pray that God may receive her, in His mercy," adds 
the Jansenist priest, FeuilJet, " and all you, who read these 
words, pray for her also." 



CHAPTER XXVI 
1670 

Grief of the King and Court for Madame — Popular Feeling in England — The 
Suspicion that she was Poisoned becomes General — Letters of Montagu — 
Saint Simon's Version— Was Madame Poisoned, or was her Death due to 
Natural Causes ? 

The summer morning which dawned on that night of agony- 
was long remembered in France. The cry that broke from 
Monsieur's lips, the sobs and lamentations of Madame's 
servants, were but the first notes of the wail that went up from 
one end of the land to the other. " All the world," wrote an 
English secretary, " is in lamentation." There was grief and 
consternation everywhere. The King, on waking, heard the 
news of Madame's death, and Mademoiselle found him in 
floods of tears. Never in all his life, he said, had he known 
so great a sorrow. An hour later, Bossuet arrived, and told 
the King and Queen that Madame had died, as only a good 
Christian could die. He described how bravely and calmly 
she had met her end, and how, in that supreme hour, the 
sweetness of nature, which had marked her in life, had not 
once failed her. 

" Madame fut douce envers la mart, coniine elle I'etait envers 
tout le nionde." 

For some time past, the Bishop told the King, Madame 
had frequently conversed with him on religious subjects. She 
had begged him to come and instruct her in these matters, at 
times when she could be alone, and now he had every reason 
to be thankful for the blessed state of mind in which she had 
died. Bossuet remained closeted for an hour with the King, 

356 



GRIEF OF LOUIS XIV. 357 

and Conde told him afterwards, that he had never seen His 
Majesty so deeply moved. 

The next day, Louis XIV. wrote a few lines with his own 
hand to Charles II. 

"My Brother, — The tender love I had for my sister was 
well known to you, and you will understand the grief into 
which her death has plunged me. In this heavy affliction, I 
can only say that the part which I take in your own sorrow, 
for the loss of one who was so dear to both of us, increases 
the burden of my regret. My only comfort is the confidence 
I cherish that this fatal accident will make no change in our 
friendship, and that you will continue to let me enjoy yours 
as fully as I give you mine." 

At the same time, Lionne wrote a long despatch to Col- 
bert de Croissy, giving a full account of Madame's death, and 
saying that His Majesty had decided to send the Mar^chal 
de Bellefonds, who was present at Saint-Cloud during her last 
agony, and who had been honoured with her especial friend- 
ship, to give the King of England a more particular report of 
this distressing event. 

" He will be better able, by word of mouth, to tell you 
in what condition he saw the King, who would not leave the 
bedside of the Princess until she was at the point of death. 
He will tell you what marks of love and tenderness passed 
between them, how many tears it has cost his Majesty, and 
he will describe the despair of Monsieur, the affliction and 
consternation of the whole Court, and of all Paris. If any- 
thing could give us consolation, in so terrible an accident, 
and so great a loss, which, for a thousand reasons, must be 
eternally lamented, it would be the manner of her death, 
which was as holy and Christian as it was resolute and 
heroic. Never was there seen deeper resignation to the will 
of God, and greater devotion in receiving the sacrament, 
than Madame showed, as well as more perfect trust in the 
Divine goodness. The Bishop of Condom, who assisted her 
in her passage from this world, has wonderful things to tell 



358 MONTAGU'S LETTER. 

US on the subject, and all who were present say that no one 
ever showed greater presence of mind, or less fear of death. 
She did not even weep while the King, Monsieur, the whole 
Court and all her own servants, were in floods of tears. I 
assure you, sir, that the King's grief has been, and is still, so 
excessive, that I am very anxious for his health, He is going 
to sleep at Saint-Germain to-night, saying that he cannot 
remain in this house of pleasure while he is so overwhelmed 
with grief." 

But long before these letters reached England, Charles 
II, had already heard the sad news. An hour after Madame 
had breathed her last, Ralph Montagu wrote the following 
letter to Lord Arlington, and sent it to London by Sir 
Thomas Armstrong : — 

" Paris, 
"■ Jwie 30, 1670. Four 171 iJie 7norning. 

" My Lord, — I am sorry to be obliged by my employment, 

to give you an account of the saddest story in the world, and 

which I have hardly the courage to write. Madame, on 

Sunday the 29th of this instant, being at St Clou with a 

great deal of company, about five o'clock in the afternoon 

called for a glass of chicory water that was prescribed for 

her to drink, she having for two or three days after bathing 

found herself indisposed. She had no sooner drunk this 

but she cryed out she was dead, and fell into Madam 

Mechelbourg's arms, desired to be put to bed, and have a 

confessor. She continued in the greatest tortures imaginable, 

till 3 o'clock in the morning, when she dyed ; the King, the 

Queen, and all the Court being there, till about an hour 

before. God send the King, our master, patience and 

constancy to bear so great an affliction. Madame declared 

she had no reluctancy to die, but out of the grief she thought 

it would be to the King, her brother, and when she was in 

any ease for the torture she was in, which the physician 

called coliqiie bileiise, she asked for me, and it was to charge 

me to say all the kind things from her to her brothers, the 

King and Duke. I did not leave her till she expired, and 

happened to come to Saint Clou an hour after she fell ill. 



THE NEWS IN ENGLAND. 359 

Never anybody died with that piety and resolution, and kept 
her senses to the last. Excuse this imperfect relation, for 
the grief I am in. I am sure all that had the Honour to 
know her will have their share for so great and general a 
loss. I am, my Lord, Yours," etc. 

An hour later his secretary added the following lines :— 

"The bearer will tell you that Madame fell sick of a colic 
about 4 in the afternoon, and died, a most lamented Princess, 
this morning at 3. Grief will not let me add more, but 
refer you for further particulars to his relation, who was 
present at St. Cloud." 

At six o'clock, after taking a last look at Madame's 

lifeless face, the young Englishman rode off, post-haste, to 

Calais, and never stopped till he reached Whitehall, where he 

himself delivered the sad tidings to the King. At the first 

moment, Charles gave way to a violent outburst of grief and 

indignation. He shed torrents of tears, and passionately 

execrated Monsieur's name. But he soon recovered his 

composure, and prudently refrained from expressing his 

feelings in public. " Monsieur is a villain ! " he exclaimed, 

" but, Sir Thomas, I beg of you, not a word of this to others." 

None the less, the horrible suspicion of poison, which Madame 

herself had shared, gained ground rapidly, and roused a 

storm of popular indignation. Buckingham raged like a 

madman, and was for declaring war on the spot. In the 

city, the mob rose tumultuously and shouted death to the 

French. The Ambassador's life was threatened, and a report 

reached Paris that a detachment of the King's guards had 

been sent to protect his house. Colbert himself became 

seriously alarmed, and wrote Lionne word of the evil rumours 

that were abroad. " The King of England," he repeats, 

" remains inconsolable, and his grief is increased by the 

general impression which has got abroad, that Madame 

was poisoned. Neither His Majesty, nor any other member 

of the Royal Family, have expressed their belief in this 

extravagant report ; but three personages at Court declare 

aloud that it is true — Prince Rupert, because he has a natural 



360 RUMOURS OF POISONING. 

inclination to believe evil ; the Duke of Buckingham, because 
he courts popularity ; and Sir John Trevor, because he is 
Dutch at heart, and consequently hates the French." 

The same sinister reports were widely repeated in France. 
The crime was openly ascribed to the Chevalier de Lorraine, 
and every detail was given with frightful accuracy. It was 
said that he had sent a deadly poison from Rome, and that 
D'Efifiat, his accomplice, had rubbed it on the silver cup, from 
which Madame drank the chicory water on that Sunday 
afternoon. Montagu believed the story, and remained con- 
vinced of its truth until his dying day. So general was the 
impression of foul play, that Louis XIV. ordered a post- 
mortem examination, which was held on the evening of the 
30th of June, in the presence of the English Ambassador. 
An English doctor, named Hugh Chamberlain, a surgeon in 
Charles II. 's service, named Boscher, Lord Salisbury, Abb6 
Montagu and James Hamilton, were also present. Both the 
English and French physicians agreed that no trace of poison 
was to be found, and an official report, signed by the French 
doctors present, declared that Madame had died of cholera- 
morbus. Chamberlain and Boscher drew up separate state- 
ments, in which they expressed their opinion that death was 
produced by natural causes, but Boscher distinctly said that 
the operation had been conducted in the most unskilful 
manner, " as if the surgeon's business were rather to hide the 
truth than to reveal it." We learn, from Temple's letters, 
that the English doctors were not altogether satisfied with the 
result of the examination. Writing to Lord Arlington on the 
1 5th of July, he expresses his satisfaction " that the sad and 
surprising affliction of Madame's death shall at least be with- 
out that odious circumstance which was at first so generally 
thought to have attended it," but remarks that, " where he is," 
it is no easy matter to succeed in allaying people's suspicions. 
" These," he adds, " have been much increased by the Princess 
Dowager's curiosity to ask her physicians' opinions upon the 
relation transmitted hither to one of them from his brother, 
who is the Dutch secretary at Paris, and pretends it came 
from Pr Chamberlain, though something different from what 
he transmitted into iMigland. However it happened, it had 



RUMOURS OF POISONING. 3^1 

certainly all the circumstances to aggravate the affliction to 
His Majesty, which I am infinitely touched with, as with the 
sense of an accident, in itself so deplorable. But it is a 
necessary tribute we pay for the continuance of our lives, to 
bewail the frequent and sometimes untimely death of our 
friends." 

Louis XIV. had, from the first, dreaded the effect which 
these reports would produce among his enemies in Holland, 
and had himself written to M. de Pomponne, as follows : — 

"Your despatch of the 26th of last month requiring no 
special answer, I will only speak to you of the heavy blow 
which I and my whole family have just received from the hand 
of God, who has taken away my sister, the Duchessed'Orl^ans. 
She was carried off by a violent colique, in the short space 
of seven or eight hours. This misfortune will not be regarded 
where you are with the sentiments which I must feel. I can 
only bow to the Divine Will, and seek what consolation I can 
find in the manner of this Princess's death, which could not 
have been holier or more Christian, and leaving Lionne to 
give you particulars of this fatal accident, I pray God to have 
you, M. de Pomponne, in His holy keeping. LOUIS. 

" Saint Germain-en-Laye, ^th day of July 1670." 

At the same time, the King did his utmost to allay the 
angry feeling which Madame's death had aroused in England. 
The very day after the sad event, he sent Montagu word that 
he felt Madame's loss as deeply as if she had been his own 
wife, and begged him to assure his master that, " if there were 
the least imagination that her death had been caused by 
poison, nothing should be wanting, either towards the dis- 
covering or the punishing soe horrid a fact." A few days later 
he gave the Ambassador an audience, in which he showed him 
extraordinary marks of kindness and sympathy, and spoke of 
his sister-in-law in the tenderest manner. 

By degrees the popular mind became calmer. Charles H. 
received Monsieur's envoy coldly, and refused, it is said, to read 
his brother-in-law's letter. And he spoke bitterly to Colbert, 
of the way in which Monsieur had treated his wife, and of the 



363 GRIEF OF CHARLES 11. 

Chevalier de Lorraine's scandalous behaviour towards her. 
But he received the Mar^chal de Bellefonds with the greatest 
courtesy, and professed himself satisfied with the letters and 
explanations which he brought with him. 

No one could doubt the sincerity of Louis XIV. 's 
grief, or the genuineness of his regard for Madame ; and if 
Charles II. was less satisfied with Monsieur's conduct, he was 
not disposed to visit his resentment on the King. On the 7th 
of July, Colbert de Croissy was able to write home that any 
suspicions which had arisen in the minds of the King of 
England, and of the chief personages at Court, were now quite 
dissipated, and the only feeling now remaining in England 
was that of sorrow for the loss of so admirable a Princess. 
Arlington dined at the Guildhall to pacify the citizens of 
London, and the King sent Buckingham to France, to repre- 
sent him at Madame's funeral, and to assure Louis XIV. of 
his continued friendship. It was not in Charles II.'s nature 
to sorrow long and deeply, even for the sister who had been 
so dear to him. He observes, in a characteristic note to the 
Due d'Elboeuf, " I cannot help thanking you very warmly 
for the sorrow which you express at my sister's death, know- 
ing, as I do, how much she esteemed you. But, to say the 
truth, my grief for her is so great that 1 dare not allow my- 
self to dwell upon it, and try as far as possible to think of 
other things.'' 

Meanwhile, what with the rumours of poison that were 
filling the air, and the enmity shown him by Monsieur, Ralph 
Montagu had a difficult task to obey his master's orders, and 
fulfil Madame's last wishes. His letters, both to the King 
and Arlington, are full of interesting details, and their tone 
shows that, in spite of the natural resentment which he felt at 
being excluded from any share in the recent negotiations, he 
had lost none of his old devotion for Madame. On the 6th 
of July, he writes to Arlington :— 

" I suppose by this time you may have with you the 
Mar^chal de Bellefonds, who, besides his condoliances, will 
endeavour, I believe, to disabuse our Court oi what the Court 
and people here tvill never be disahised of, which is Madame's 



LETTERS OF MONTAGU. 363 

being poisoned, which, having so good an authority as her 
own saying it several times in her great pain, makes the report 
much more credited. But to me in particular, when I asked 
her several times, whether she thought herself poisoned, she 
would answer nothing ; I believe, being willing to spare the 
addition of so great a trouble to the King, our master, which 
was the reason why, in my first letter, I made no mention of 
it, neither am I physician good enough to say she was 
poisoned, or she was not. They are willing, in this countrey, 
to make me the author of the report, I mean Monsieur, who 
says I do it, to break the good intelligence between the two 
crowns. The King and ministers here seem extremely affected 
with the loss of Madame, and I do not doubt but what they 
are, for they hoped upon her consideration to bring the King, 
our master, to condescend to things, and enter into a friend- 
ship with this crown, stricter perhaps than they think he will, 
now she is no more. What was begun, or what was intended, 
1 will not presume to search into, since your Lordship did not 
think fit to communicate the least part of it to me, but I can- 
not help knowing the town talk, and I dare answer that all 
the King, our master, can propose, will be granted here, to have 
his friendship, and there is nothing on the other side the 
Dutch will not do, to hinder our joining with the French. 
All I desire, my Lord, is that, whilst I am here, I may know 
what language to hold in conversation with the other ministers, 
that I may not be ridiculed with the character I have upon 
me. Whilst Madame was alive, she did me the honour to 
trust me enough, to hinder me from being exposed to that 
misfortune. I am sure that, for the little time you knew her 
in England, )'ou could not but know her enough to regret her 
as long as you live ; as I am sure you have reason. For I 
never knew anybody kinder, nor have a better opinion of 
another in all kinds than she had of you. And I believe she 
loved the King, her Brother, too well, if she had not been 
persuaded how well and faithfully you served him, to have 
been so really concerned for you, as I have observed her to be, 
upon all occasions, since there has been a good understanding 
between you. As for my own particular, 1 have had so great 
a loss, that I have no joy in this countrey, nor hopes of any 



364 LETTERS OF MONTAGU. 

in another. Madame, after several discourses with me in her 
illness, which was all nothing but kind expressions of the 
King, our Master, at last told me she was extremely sorry she 
had done nothing for me before she died, in return of all the 
zeal and affection with which I had served her, since my being 
here. She told me that there were 6000 pistoles of hers in 
several places ; she bid me take them for her sake. I told 
her she had many poor servants that wanted more than I, 
that I never served her out of interest, and that absolutely 1 
would not take it, but if she pleased to tell me which of them 
I should give it to, I would dispose of it, according to her 
pleasure. She had so much presence of mind as to name 
them to me by their names, but the breath was no sooner out 
of her body, but Monsieur seized all her keys and caskets. I 
inquired next day where the money was. One of her women 
said it was in such a place, which happened to be the first 
6000 pistoles the King, our master, sent her. For, just as that 
money came, it was designed to unpawn some jewels upon 
which she had already taken up the money ; but two days 
before, the King of France gave her money with which she 
impawned them, so the money came clear in to her. I 
demanded the money upon this, from Monsieur, as money of 
mine, that was borrowed for Madame, as having been delivered 
by my servant to two of her women, who assured him (as they 
could not do otherwise) that that money came from me, for 
they never knew that the King, our master, had sent it her. 
Monsieur had, in this time, got away above half of the money. 
The rest I had delivered me, which I did to the uttermost 
farthing, in the presence of my Lord Abbot Montagu and two 
other witnesses, dispose to Madame's servants equally, as she 
directed. Monsieur has promised me the rest, which they 
are to have in the same manner, but if they are not wise 
enough to keep their council, he will certainly take it away 
from them. I could not have got it for the poor people any 
other way, and I believe the King will be gladder they should 
have it than Monsieur. 

" P.S. — Since the writing of this, I am told, from very 
good hands, and one that Monsieur trusts, that he, being 
desired by the King to deliver up all Madame's papers, before 



LETTERS OF MONTAGU. 3^5 

he would do it he first sent for my Lord Abbot Montagu, to 
read them, and interpret them to him ; but not trusting enough 
to him, he employed other persons that understood the 
language to do it, amongst which Madame de Fiennes was one, 
so that most of the private thoughts between the King and 
Madame are, and will be, very publick. There were some in 
cypher, which trouble him extreamly; but yet he pretends to 
guess at it. And he complains extreamly of the King, our 
master, for having a confidence with Madame, and treating 
things with her without his knowledge. My Lord Abbot 
Montagu will, I hope, give you a larger account of this matter 
than I can, for though Monsieur enjoined him secrecy to all 
the world, it cannot extend to you, if there be anything that 
concerns the King, our Master's, afifairs." 

The papers which Monsieur had seized were Charles 
II. 's confidential letters to his sister, which have been fully 
given in these pages. On hearing of Madame's death, Charles 
had sent an express to the French King, begging him to take 
charge of them without delay. Louis, accordingly, sent a 
peremptory order to his brother, demanding immediate 
possession of Madame's private papers, and Monsieur was 
compelled to give them up, after having, as the Ambassador 
reports, done his best to decipher them, with the help of Abbe 
Montagu and Madame de Fiennes. So Charles II.'s 
letters to his sister found their way into the Depot at 
Versailles, and have been preserved to this day among the 
Archives des Affaires Etrangeres. 

On the 1 5th of July, Montagu sent Lord Arlington the 
ring, which Madame had taken off her finger on her death- 
bed, to be presented to His Majesty, in fulfilment of her 
dying wish, and himself wrote a letter to the King, with a 
fuller account of Madame's last messages. 

" Sir, — I ought to begin with begging your Majesty's 
pardon for saying anything to you upon so sad a subject, 
and where I had the misfortune to be a witness of the 
cruellest and most generous end any person in the world 
ever made. I had the honour on the Saturday, which was 



366 LETTERS OF MONTAGU. 

the day before Madame dy'd, to entertain her a great while, 
the most of her discourse being concerning Monsieur, and 
how impossible she said it was for her to live happily with 
him, for he was fallen out with her worse than ever, because 
that, two days before, she had been at Versailles, and there he 
found her talking privately with the King about affairs 
which were not fit to be communicated to him. She told me 
your Majesty and the King here were both resolved upon a 
war with Holland, as soon as you could be agreed on the 
manner of it. These were the last words I had the honour to 
have from her, till she fell ill, for Monsieur came in and 
interrupted her, and I returned to Paris the next day. When 
she fell ill, she called for me two or three times. Madame de 
Meckelburg sent for me. As soon as I came in, she told 
me : — ' You see the sad condition I am in. I am going to 
die. How I pity the King, my Brother ! For I am sure he 
loses the Person in the World that loves him best.' A little 
while after she called me again, bidding me be sure to say 
all the kind things in the world from her to the King, her 
brother, and ' thank him for all his kindness and care of me.' 
Then she asked me if I remembered what she had said to 
me the night before, of your Majesty's intentions to join with 
France against Holland. I told her, Yes. ' Pray, then,' said 
she, 'tell my Brother I never persuaded him to it out of my 
own interest, or to be more considered in this country, but 
because I thought it for his honour and advantage. For I 
always loved him above all things in the world, and have no 
regret to leave it, but because I leave him.' She called to me 
several times to be sure to say this to you, and spoke to me 
in English. I asked her then, if she believed her self 
poisoned. Her confessor, that was by, understood that word, 
and told her, ' Madame, you must accuse nobody, but offer up 
your death to God as a sacrifice.' So she would never answer 
me to that question, though I asked her several times, but 
would only shrink up her shoulders. I asked her for her 
casket, where all her letters were, to send them to Your 
Majesty. She bade me take it from Madame Des Bordes, 
but she was swooning and dying to see her Mistress in that 
condition, and, before she came to herself, Monsieur had 



LETTERS OF MONTAGU. l^J 

seized on them. She recommended to you to help, as much 
as you could, all her poor servants. She bid me write unto 
my Lord Arlington to put you in mind of it, ' And tell the 
King, my Brother, I hope he will, for my sake, do for him 
what he promised, Car c'est un hoinine qui Vayine, et qui le 
sert bien! She spoke afterwards a great deal, in French, 
aloud, bemoaning and lamenting the condition she knew your 
Majesty would be in when you heard the news of her death. I 
humbly again beg your Majesty's pardon for having been the 
unfortunate teller of so sad news, there being none of your 
servants that wishes you constant happiness with more zeal 
and truth than, Sir, Your Majesty's most humble and obedient 
servant, RALPH MONTAGU." 

In a letter to Lord Arlington, written on the same day, 
the Ambassador again alludes to his growing conviction that 
Madame had been poisoned : — 

" Of the various reports since her death, that of her being 
poisoned prevails above all the rest, which has disordered the 
Ministers, as well as the King, to the greatest degree that can 
be. For my own particular, I have been so much struck with 
it. that I have hardly had the heart to stir out since ; which, 
joined with the reports of the town, how much the King, our 
Master, resented so horrid a fact, that he would not receive 
Monsieur's letter, and that he commanded me home, made 
them conclude that the King was dissatisfied with this Court 
to the degree it was reported. So that to-day I am not able 
to express the satisfaction of the King and everybody to 
know that the King, our Master, was a little appeased. You 
may judge from this how much they value the friendship of 
England." 



■iD' 



The relief of Louis XIV. and his ministers was evidently 
great, when they found that Charles II. was willing to drop 
the subject, and Lionne wrote joyfully to Pomponne at the 
Hague, that he might laugh Dutch and Spanish alike to scorn, 
since it was now plain that Madame's death would make no 
change in the friendship between the two Kings. 



368 WAS MADAME POISONED? 

None the less, the belief that Madame had been poisoned 
by Lorraine and his friends, either with, or without Monsieur's 
knowledge, had taken hold of the popular mind, both in 
France and England. Burnet, who saw in this Princess the 
incarnation of Popery and of French influence, quietly re- 
marks that Monsieur, no doubt, poisoned her because of her 
intrigues with the Comte de Guiche and M. de Treville, a 
singular travesty of facts. Other contemporary writers sup- 
pose that Monsieur poisoned her out of jealousy of the Duke 
of Monmouth. But these statements, we need hardly observe, 
are absolutely devoid of foundation, and Monsieur may safely 
be acquitted of all share in the crime. Vicious and worthless 
as he was, cruel as his treatment of his wife had been, nature 
had not fitted him for the part of a great criminal. His 
cowardice was too abject, his terror of public opinion too 
excessive for him to have ventured on a crime, which would 
have made him infamous in the eyes of all Europe. Besides, 
his conduct on that memorable night was not that of a guilty 
man. Madame de La Fayette owns, that when Madame 
exclaimed she was poisoned, her first impulse was to look 
at Monsieur, but that, narrowly as she watched him, she could 
detect no sign of fear or confusion. Yet the story told by 
Saint-Simon in his Memoirs has gained acceptance among 
a large class of writers. According to his account, Louis XIV., 
being full of uneasiness as to the cause of Madame's death, 
ordered Monsieur's chief maitre d'hdiel, Simon, to be sccretl}' 
arrested, on the night of the 30th of June, and brought by a 
private staircase into his own presence. The King himself 
examined him, and charged him, on pain of instant death, 
to tell him if Madame had been poisoned. The wretched 
man owned tremblingly that it was so, and, on being further 
pressed, said that D'Effiat and Beuvron had obtained the 
poison from the Chevalier de Lorraine. " My brother, did 
he know of it?" asked the King, breathlessly. "No, sire," 
replied the servant, " we were not fools enough to tell him. 
He cannot keep a secret, and would have ruined us all." 
" That is enough," said the King, with a sigh of relief, and the 
man was set at liberty. But, from that time, Louis did not 
venture to make further inquiries, and tiic thing was hushed 



WAS MADAME POISONED? 369 

up. Saint-Simon goes on to say that, a few days after 
Monsieur's second marriage, to Elizabeth Charlotte, Princess 
Palatine, the King took the new Madame aside and informed 
her of these facts, adding, that he would never have allowed 
her to marry his brother had he been guilty of so monstrous 
a crime. Often as this version of the tale has been repeated, 
the story is, to say the least, highly improbable, and its 
sensational and dramatic character stamps it at once as a 
creation of Saint-Simon's brain. But there is no doubt that 
Monsieur's second wife firmly believed the first Madame 
to have been poisoned by Lorraine and D'Effiat. This 
eccentric lady had the greatest hatred of the whole cabak 
des Lorrains, as she called the Chevalier and his friends, 
and, when she quarrelled with Monsieur, was often heard to 
exclaim aloud that she knew they would poison her as they 
had poisoned poor Madame ! She expresses her convictions 
on the subject in several passages of her correspondence. 

"It is quite true that poor Madame was poisoned," she 
writes, in July 17 16, " but without Monsieur's knowledge. To 
say the truth, he was incapable of such a crime. When these 
wretches conferred together, as to how they should poison 
poor Madame, they discussed whether they should tell 
Monsieur, but Lorraine said ' No, for he would never be 
able to hold his tongue, and even if he kept silence for a year, 
he would tell the King in the end, and we might all be 
hanged ten years afterwards.' They persuaded Monsieur 
that the Dutch had poisoned her in a cup of chocolate. The 
real truth is that D'Effiat rubbed the poison on a cup belong- 
ing to Madame, as a valet in her service himself told me, on 
that Sunday morning, while Monsieur and Madame were at 
Mass. As soon as Madame had drunk the chicory water out 
of that cup, she cried out, ' I am poisoned I ' Others drank of 
the same water, but not out of that cup. The story is old, 
and reads like a page of romance, but it is never the less 
true." And elsewhere, in speaking of the Chevalier de 
Lorraine's debaucheries, and of the domestic broils which 
embittered Henrietta's life, she observes that Lorraine was 
banished as he deserved, but that his exile cost Madame her 
life. 

2 A 



370 WAS MADAME POISONED? 

The same conviction remained firmly rooted in Montagu's 
mind. When, in February 1672, only a year and a half after 
Madame's death, the Chevalier de Lorraine dared again to 
show his face at Court, the English Ambassador wrote an 
indignant letter home. 

"If Madame were poisoned, as few people doubt, he is 
looked upon, by all France, to have done it, and it is wondered 
at, by all France, that this King should have so little regard 
to the King, our Master, considering how insolently he always 
carried himself to her when she was alive, as to allow his 
return." Lorraine's return to Court was a concession to 
Monsieur's weakness, on the King's part, for which Louis 
XIV. was no doubt to blame, even though he said repeatedly 
that it was done to gratify his brother, and made no secret of 
his own contempt for the Chevalier. But he could have 
hardly allowed the favourite's return, if he had really believed 
him to be guilty of Madame's death. Elizabeth Charlotte, it 
must be borne in mind, obtained her information entirely 
from servants, and was eager to believe the worst of a man 
whom she regarded as the cause of all the troubles of her 
married life. 

There was, at that time, a common tendency to attribute 
sudden death to violent causes, a tendency that was no doubt 
increased by the lack of medical knowledge, and the incapacity 
of the Court doctors. The same suspicions were aroused in 
the case of Madame's own daughter, Marie Louise, the poor 
young Queen of Spain, who died exactly at her mother's age, 
and in a very similar manner, and again in that of her grand- 
daughter, the dearly loved Duchess of Burgundy. And 
Madame's health, always delicate, had been shattered by 
grave illnesses and frequent imprudences. Twice over, prema- 
ture accouchements had brought her to the point of death, 
and during the last (ew months of her life she was, as Made- 
moiselle remarks, almost always ill. That wise old doctor, Gui 
Patin, had long ago noticed the frequent cough from which 
she suffered, her extreme thinness and the hectic flush on 
her cheek. " The last day she was at Versailles, she looked," 
says Mademoiselle, " like a corpse, with a spot of rouge on 
each side of her face." Her constitution had been ruined by a 



ITER DEATH DUE TO NATURAL CAUSES. 37 1 

life of continual fatigue and excitement, but that wonderful 
courage and spirit, which she showed in so remarkable a 
manner during the long hours of her death-agony, probably 
deceived those about her as to her true state of health. 

In a separate report, which Vallot drew up, after the post- 
mortem examination, and presented to the King, he stated 
that for the last four or five years he had always had a very 
bad opinion of Madame's health, and feared that she might die 
suddenly ; but that, after the autopsy of her corpse, he could 
only say that it was a miracle she had lived so long. Even 
Gui Patin, with all his contempt for the Court doctors, agrees 
with their conclusions in this case, and rejects the idea of 
poison as a fabrication of the popular fancy. 

" Here," he writes a month after, "they are still talking of 
that tragic event, the death of Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans. 
Many people believe that she was poisoned. But, as a matter 
of fact, her death was caused by a bad regime of living, as well 
as a naturally bad constitution. The popular voice, which 
likes to imagine grievances, and to meddle in things that 
it does not understand, should not be believed in such 
matters." 

There can be little doubt that the old doctor was right. 
The chicory water which Madame drank, on that fatal Sunday 
afternoon, was mixed by her favourite maid, Madame Des- 
bordes, who drank of it herself afterwards. According to 
Bossuet and Lionne, both Monsieur and Madame de Meck- 
lembourg did the same, without any bad effects^ It is very 
unlikely that Desbordes, or any other servant, would have 
allowed any powder to remain on the rim of the cup, from 
which her mistress was to drink, and it is still less probable 
that any poison would have been so prompt in its action, as 
to cause the violent pains which Henrietta felt the moment 
she had swallowed the draught. 

Madame's death, grievous and lamentable as it was, may 
be safely ascribed to natural causes. That strange and sudden 
illness, which brought her life to a close at .so early an age, 
was, in all probability, an attack of acute peritonitis, brought 
on by over-fatigue and by a chill, caught from bathing in the 
river in her already weakened condition. When we think of 



3/2 madame's death. 

the continual strain to which her physical and mental powers 
were exposed, and of all the experiences and emotions which 
had been crowded into the last few years of her life, we need 
hardly wonder that she died before her time, sinking under a 
burden which she had not the strength to carry. 



CHAPTER XXVII 
1670 

Conduct of Monsieur after his Wife's Death— Grief of Madame's Friends— Funeral 
Services at Saint-Denis, Val-de-Grace and Saint-Cloud — Bossuet's 
Oraisoit. 

The cold and heartless conduct of Monsieur, after his wife's 
death, naturally confirmed people in the belief that he was 
not sorry to be rid of a Princess whose true worth he had 
never known. Hardly had Madame breathed her last than, 
as Montagu reports, he seized her letters and the money 
which was to have been distributed to her servants, and went 
off to Paris. There he devoted his thoughts wholly to the 
mourning arrangements, and the reception of those official 
visits of condolence in which he took so childish a pleasure. 
Mademoiselle, who went to see him on Tuesday, at the Palais- 
Royal, was surprised to find how little sorrow he showed. 
He had dressed up his little daughter and her cousin, the 
Princess Anne, in long trailing mantles of violet velvet, and, 
with his usual ridiculous love of ceremony, insisted that 
formal visits of condolence should be paid not only to these 
children, but to his younger daughter, the baby Mademoiselle 
de Valois, in her nursery. Two days after Madame's death 
he retired to Madame d'Aiguillon's house at Rouille, where he 
seemed to take his loss more to heart than he had done at 
first. 

" I believe," writes Vernon, " that he himself doubts where 
he shall find a second wife whose qualities may come up to 
those of her he has lost." But, as the English secretary 
remarks, he soon got tired of "walking in the shade of melan- 
choly," and in a fortnight's time he joined the Court at Saint 

373 



374 MADAME LAMENTED BY ALL. 

Germain, attired in the most elegant mourning, and apparently 
in excellent spirits. " Monsieur," writes Vernon, on the i6th 
of July, " is come from Rouiile. 1 saw him yesterday at 
dinner with the King. Th6 King seems much more sensible 
of our losse than he doe." Already he spoke freely of marry- 
ing again, and told his brother that he should like to make 
Mademoiselle his wife, since, at her age, she would not be 
likely to have a family, and he would thus secure the whole 
of her large fortune. " Monsieur is in amours again," writes 
Vernon early in August, *' and if he be not shortly married to 
Mademoiselle, all the world is in a mistake. He follows her, 
he courts her, he is at her toilette, and waits on her as she 
dresseth herself" But Mademoiselle was already in love with 
Lauzun, and knew Monsieur too well now, to consent to be- 
come his wife at any price. 

There were others on whom Madame's death had made a 
deeper and more lasting impression. Treville, who had seen 
her die, and received her last farewell, never recovered from 
the shock. When La Fare led him home, in the early dawn 
of the June morning, he was so dazed with grief that his 
friends trembled for his reason. After the funeral, he gave 
up his post at Court, and left the world to become a recluse 
at Port-Royal. Turenne felt the blow hardly less. Two years 
before he had been brought over to the Catholic Church, by 
Bossuet's influence, and now he had serious thoughts of join- 
ing the Fathers of the Oratory, and was only restrained from 
taking the final step by the King's intimation that his services 
at the head of the army would be shortlj' required. Madame 
d'Epernon, who had spent that last Sunday at Saint-Cloud, 
and who, with Madame de La Fayette, had remained at 
Madame's bedside to the last, took the veil soon afterwards, 
and joined the community of the Grandes Carmelites. And 
in the same convent another witness of that tragic scene, and 
another of Bossuet's converts, the King's forgotten mistress. 
La Valli^re, came, ere long, to end her days in penitence and 
solitude, as Soeur Louise de la Misi^ricorde. 

Mever had the Court of the Grand Monarque received so 
startling a warning of the vanity of this world's glory. In the 
great preacher's words, Madame had faded away, as suddenly 



MADAME DE SEVIGNfi. 375 

as the flowers of the field. " In the morning our flower was 
blooming, with what grace we all know ; in the evening, it 
was cut down, dried up and withered." " You will hear from 
Corbinelli of the death of Madame," wrote Madame de 
Sevigne to Bussy de Rabutin, " and will imagine our horror 
in seeing her fall suddenly ill and die in eight hours' time. 
With her, we have lost all the joy, all the charm, and all the 
pleasures of the Court. Good-bye, my cousin, do not let us 
quarrel any more. I may have been a little in the wrong, but 
which of us does not sometimes make mistakes in this world ? " 
And Bussy, insolent, gossiping Bussy, wrote back : " The 
death of Madame has afflicted me to the last degree. You 
know on what pleasant terms we used to be, and what kind- 
ness she showed me in my disgrace. If anything were capable 
of detaching those hearts who are the most attached to this 
life, it is the reflections which such a death inspires. Adieu, 
tna belle cousine, we will not quarrel any more." And he 
writes to Gramont, a month afterwards, " I can think of noth- 
ing but Madame's death. It haunts me as if it had happened 
yesterday." In his correspondence with Madame de Scud^ry, 
the two friends can talk of nothing else. This accomplished 
lady takes advantage of the opportunity to send him a copy 
of Pascal's Petist'es, in the hope that these Christian reflections 
may be profitable to the cynical Count. " Do not be angry 
with my little sermon," she says, " I preach it with the best in- 
tentions. The death of Madame has been a terrible sermon. 
She died with the most heroic courage. It is surprising to see 
a Princess of twenty-six, as young and beautiful as she was, go 
out of life as contentedly as some old beggar, who has spent 
his last years in the desert preparing to meet his end." 

In reply, Bussy assures her that he has read Pascal with 
great admiration, even if he does not profess to follow his pre- 
cepts, and that no one can regret Madame more deeply than 
he does. "I had," he repeats, "infinite esteem and affection 
for her." And when, many years afterwards, he recalls the 
chief events of his past life, for the benefit of his children, he 
speaks of Madame's death as a great mislortune for himself 
and a calamity for the whole of France. " Not only was she 
loved and honoured by all, for the sake of her cleverness and 



■}^^6 bussy's reflections. 

charm, but she was the most generous and the truest of 
friends. For the rest, this death was worth more to me than 
many sermons. A Princess, young, beautiful and happy, who 
could die at twenty-six with all the firmness and Christian 
faith of men who are old and sick of life — that was an example 
for the whole world, and God gave me the grace to lay it 
seriously to heart." 

But every writer of the period records the same impression. 
" Never, since first dying came into fashion," said the witty 
Lord Rochester, " was anyone so deeply lamented." " The 
death of Madame," wrote the Comte de Choiseul, '' is not a 
piece of news. It is a general and profound affliction." 
And Cardinal Barberini, from his villa on the banks of the 
lake of Nemi, wrote to Charles II. at Newmarket : — " I 
cannot sufficiently express my grief at the death of Madame 
d'Orleans, which^ is the greater and more general, because the 
rare qualities of this distinguished Princess were admired, not 
only by all France, but by the whole of Europe. She ought 
indeed to have lived many hundreds of years, if only to make 
the world better, by so beautiful an example of virtue." 

Even that cold and impassive lady, Madame de Grignan, 
was deeply moved when the news reached her in her far-off 
Provencal home. ''Do you remember," writes Madame de 
Sevigne, a year afterwards, " how upset you were by the news ? 
how your mind seemed altogether out of place ? " In the 
same letter, written from her country house in Brittany, on the 
anniversary of Madame's death, she adds : " Even here I have 
felt the end of Madame's year." And when, two years after- 
wards, France was dismayed by the death of the gallant and 
handsome young Prince de Longueville, who was slain at the 
passage of the Rhine, she remarks how quickly such sad 
events are forgotten here at Court, where no one has time to 
grieve, but adds : " The death of Madame lasted much longer." 
" Have you seen Madame de Monaco? and did you talk of 
Madame?" she asks another time, when her daughter was 
expecting a visit from Henrietta's old friend. And when, a 
year afterwards, Monsieur's marriage with the daughter of the 
P'lector Palatine was arranged, Madame de Sevign6 asks 
Madame de Gri"[nan what she thinks of it, and observes : " You 



MADAME DE LA FAYETTE. l^JJ 

will understand how delighted he is to think of being married 
with great ceremony," but adds, with a sigh, — " Alas ! if, instead 
of the new Madame, he could give us back the one we have 
lost ! " But she goes with the rest of the world to pay her 
respects to the new Madame, and is well pleased on the whole 
with this singular lady. "Yesterday I went to the Palais- 
Royal, where I wept for Madame with all my heart I was 
surprised at the wit of this one, not that she is in the least 
agreeable, but full of good sense, very obstinate and resolute. 
She has good taste, too, for she detests Madame de Gourdon." 
The latter was an attendant of the former Madame, who was 
supposed by many to have been implicated in her death, 
since she handed her the glass of chicory water. The second 
Madame, however, observes that, if she did not poison poor 
Madame intentionally, she told Monsieur all the evil that she 
could imagine, and rendered her mistress the worst offices 
possible behind her back. 

As for Madame de La Fayette, she remained inconsolable, 
and rarely appeared at Court, although the King and the 
Prince of Conde both treated her with the highest considera- 
tion. She could not bear to visit those scenes which recalled 
poor Madame's memory so vividly, and where her absence had 
left a blank that no one could fill, r' There are sorrows," she 
writes, " for which nothing can ever console one, and which 
leave a shadow over the whole of one's life/ And, in a letter 
to her friend, Madame de Sevigne, written on the 30th of July 
1673, -''he says: "Yesterday it was three years since I saw 
Madame die. I have been reading many of her letters over 
again. I am quite full of her." Her health was always deli- 
cate, and caused her so much suffering, that Madame de 
Sevign6 used to wonder if it were worth while to have, " as 
Madame de La Fayette has, all the wit of Pascal, when it is 
accompanied with such inconveniences ! " The only pleasure 
left her was the society of her faithful companion, La Roche- 
foucauld, and a few other intimate friends. Paris, she often 
said, seemed to kill her, and she had lost her taste for letter- 
writing, and did not care to put pen to paper. Yet she sur- 
vived Madame twenty-three years, and only died in 1693. 

There was another faithful servant of Madame, whose 



^yS THE BISHOP OF VALENCE. 

regrets were still more bitter. This was Daniel de Cosnac, 
Bishop of Valence. On him, in his lonely exile, the blow fell 
with crushing force. A day or two before her death, Madame 
had begged his friend, Saint-Laurens, to write and tell him 
that her journey to England had been most prosperous, that 
the King, her brother, had renewed his promise to ask for a 
Cardinal's hat for the Bishop, and that, ere long, she hoped to 
see himself and Madame de Saint-Chaumont once more at 
Court. Cosnac was reading this letter when the news of her 
death reached him. He lived to become Archbishop of Aix, 
and to return to Court, and enjoy greater influence than ever 
before, but the horror of that moment was never forgotten. 

" I cannot," he writes, '' describe the state in which I found 
myself Since men have been known to die of grief, it seems 
a crime on my part to have survived that day. All the ter- 
rible regrets which respect, esteem and gratitude could suggest, 
as well as those prompted by personal ambition and self- 
interest, passed through my mind a thousand times. My 
strength resisted the shock. I was not even ill, but from that 
day, my life became so sad and dreary, that it was little 
better than a living death. I cared little for the loss of my 
fortune, and I had never put much faith in the hopes that had 
been held out to me of late. But to lose so great, so perfect, 
so good a Princess I No, if my heart had been really tender, 
it must have cost me my life ! With her I lost all hope or 
desire of returning to Court, and, sick of the world, I turned my 
whole heart towards my sacred ministry." 

While the flower of French society and the most cultured 
intellects of the day joined together in one common lamenta- 
tion over Madame's untimely end, Louis XIV. prepared to 
pay her the last honours on a splendid scale. " I yield to no 
one," he had written to Colbert, " not even the King of 
England himself, in my grief and love for my sister." And 
now, as a testimony of his sorrow, he declared it to be his 
pleasure that Madame should be buried with the ceremonial 
usually reserved for the funeral of crowned heads. Accord- 
ing to the Court Gazette, no royal burial had ever been 
solemnised with so much state before in I'^rance. During two 
days her corpse lay in state, surrounded by lighted candles, 



BOSSUET'S LETTER. 379 

and the King and Queen came to sprinkle it with holy 
water. After that, the heart, enshrined in a silver casket, 
was borne to the Abbey of Val-de-Grace, by a long 
train of ladies, with the Princesse de Conde at their head, 
and there interred, in fulfilment of a promise which Madame 
herself had made to the nuns. On the night of the 
4th, the body was removed to Saint-Denis, by torchlight, fol- 
lowed by Mademoiselle and all the princesses of the blood. 
Through the noble avenues of Saint-Cloud, across the Seine, 
and up the silent streets of Paris, the long procession 
wound slowly on its way, until about two o'clock in the morn- 
ing, the gates of Saint-Denis were reached. There the coffin 
was placed in the Abbey of the Kings, under a black velvet 
canopy, and watched by Monsieur's guards night and day, 
while the monks chanted masses for the repose of the dead. 
The funeral had been originally fixed for the 25th of July, but 
was put off until the 21st of August, to give more time for the 
necessary arrangements, and the Bishop of Condom received 
a command from the King to pronounce the funeral oration 
on that day. A letter recording the fact, and giving some 
other interesting details, was addressed by Bossuet himself to 
some person residing at Dijon, whose name is unknown, but 
who was, in all probability, his elder brother, Antoine Bossuet, 
Treasurer of the States of Burgundy. This letter was copied 
by Philibert de la Mare, a learned councillor of Dijon, in the 
autograph MS. of his Meinoires^ now preserved in the library 
of that city, and is published by M. Floquet in his Etudes sur 
la vie de Bossuet. 

^'' July 1670. 

" I think you know that I was awakened, on Sunday night, 
by order of Monsieur, to wait on Madame, who was at the 
last extremity, and had asked eagerly for me. I found her 
perfectly conscious, speaking and acting without the least 
alarm or ostentation, without effort or violence, but so well and 
naturally, with so much courage and piety, that I am still 
amazed when I think of it 1 She had already received the 
last Sacraments, even extreme unction, for which she asked 
the Cure who brought her the Viaticum, and which she was 
impatient to receive while she retained consciousness. I was 



380 BOSSUET'S LETTER. 

with her for an hour, and saw her draw her last breath, kissing 
the crucifix, which she held pressed to her lips, as long as she 
had any strength left. She was only insensible for a moment. 
All she said to the King, to Monsieur and to those about her, 
was short, precise and admirable. Never was there a Princess 
more greatly admired, or more deeply regretted. What is the 
most wonderful, is that from the moment she felt herself 
doomed, she spoke only of God, without showing the least 
signs of regret, feeling that her death would be acceptable to 
Him, as her life has been glorious, owing to the love and trust 
of two great Kings. She took all the remedies prescribed by 
the doctors bravely, but never uttered a word of complaint at 
their failure to relieve her, only saying that she must die in 
due form. Her body was opened before a number of doctors, 
surgeons and all kinds of people, because, when she was first 
seized with violent pains after swallowing three mouthfuls of 
chicory water, given her by her favourite and most devoted 
attendant, she had exclaimed that she was poisoned. His 
Excellency, the Ambassador of England and all the English 
here, almost believed this, but the opening of the body proved 
the contrary, since nothing was found in good condition but 
the stomach and the heart, which are the first organs usually 
attacked by poison. Also Monsieur, after giving Madame la 
Duchessc de Meckelbourg, who was present, some of the same 
water to drink, finished the bottle himself, to reassure 
Madame. Accordingly, she was satisfied, and said nothing 
more of poison, excepting that she had at first believed herself 
to have been poisoned by mistake. Those were the very 
words which I heard her say to M. le Mar<5chal de Gramont. 
I took the news of Madame's death to Monsieur, who had 
allowed himself to be led to his room down stairs, and found 
this prince quite overcome, but tried to comfort him by telling 
him of the Christian sentiments with which Madame had died. 
I went to Versailles the same day, and saw the King, who, 
although he had taken physic, commanded me to come and 
tell him what I had seen. He had tears in his eyes, and his 
heart ached, but he allowed me to speak to him, on this ter- 
rible accident, in the way that a man of my profession ought to 
speak. M. le Prince seemed much pleased with what I had 



bossuet's ring. 381 

said, and tells me that the King and all the Court are deeply 
moved. His Majesty has sent me orders to pronounce the 
funeral oration at Saint-Denis in three weeks' time. The day 
before yesterday, Rose (the President Rose, an intimate friend 
of Bossuet) told me that this good Princess had thought of me 
on her death-bed, and had ordered a ring to be given me. I 
hear now that she gave this order when I left her for a 
moment to take a little rest. She soon recalled me, to speak 
of God, and told me that she was just going to die. And, in- 
deed, she died almost directly afterwards. 

" J. B., Evesqiie de Co7tdo7ny 

The ring, which Madame had left him, adorned with a 
large emerald set with diamonds, was placed on Bossuet's 
finger by the King himself, a few days after, and worn by 
him when he pronounced Madame's funeral oration. Then, 
as he spoke of this Princess's generosity and thoughtfulness 
for others, of the enchanting grace with which she knew how 
to give, he paused a moment and glanced at the ring he wore. 
" I, too, have known it," he cried, and many of those present 
caught the glitter of the emerald, which sparkled on his hand, 
and understood his meaning. That ring he wore to his dying 
day, and, thirty-four years later, we find it mentioned in an 
inventory of his possessions that was taken after his death. 

Two days before the funeral at Saint-Denis, Saintdt, the 
King's Master of the Ceremonies, followed by heralds and 
criers with bells, marched in procession through the streets of 
Paris, and knocked at the doors of the Parliament and Council 
Chambers, proclaiming aloud, — " All noble and devout persons 
pray for the soul of the most high, puissant, virtuous and 
excellent, Princess Henriette Anne d'Angleterre, daughter of 
Charles I., King of Great Britain, and of Henriette Marie, 
daughter of France, and wife of Philippe de France, only 
brother of the King, who died in the chateau de Saint-Cloud, 
on the 30th of June, for whose soul, the King commands 
prayers to be offered, and Mass to be celebrated in the 
Church of Saint-Denis de France, where her body now 
reposes, at which place, next Wednesday afternoon, will be 
said the vespers and vigil for the dead, and the next day, at 



382 madame's funeral. 

ten in the morninjr, her solemn funeral service will be held. 
Pray, of your charity, for the repose of her soul." 

On the morning of the 21st, an august assembly met in 
the Abbey of Saint-Denis to pay Madame the last honours. 
All the chief public bodies in the kingdom, the Parliament 
and Courts of Law, the Assembly of the Clergy and the City 
Corporations, were represented, and an immense concourse 
of people thronged the doors of the great convent church. 
The Queen herself was present in a tribune, with the King of 
Poland, the English Ambassador, the Duke of Buckingham, 
Lord Sandwich, Lord St. Albans, Lord Arundel, James 
Hamilton, and the Comte and Comtesse de Gramont. The 
Prince and Princesse de Cond6, the Due d'Enghien, the 
Duchesse de Longueville, the little Prince de Conti, and the 
Princesse de Carignan appeared as chief mourners, followed by 
a long train of princes and princesses of the blood, and lords 
and ladies. Last of all came the members of Monsieur and 
Madame's household, bearing torches in their hands. A 
mausoleum, surrounded with altars and silver urns, and 
adorned with a crowd of mourning allegorical statues, among 
which Youth, Poetry and Music were conspicuous, had been 
erected in the centre of the choir. There the coffin rested, 
covered with cloth of gold, edged with ermine, and em- 
broidered with the arms of France and England, in gold and 
silver. As soon as the assistants had taken their places, hun- 
dreds of flambeaux and wax candles, placed round the bier, 
burst into flame, a cloud of incense rose from the altars, and 
the Archbishop of Reims, assisted by other bishops, began the 
mass, which was chanted by the King's musicians, accom- 
panied by Lulli's violins. 

" I do not think," said Madame de Sevign4, as she listened 
to the surpassing sweetness of their strains, " there will be any 
better music in heaven." 

Then Bossuet, clad for the first time in his purple episco- 
pal robes, and wearing his pectoral cross, mounted the pulpit, 
and pronounced the text of his great Oraison. " Vanitas 
vanitatuni, omnia vanitas!' His hearers listened in breathless 
silence as he spoke of the beauty, of the talents, of the 
irresistible charm which had made this Princess adored by all. 



bossuet's or a/son. 383 

He dwelt on her rare gifts of mind, on her fine taste in art 
and letters, on the incomparable sweetness of her nature, on 
the royalty of heart and soul which made this daughter 
of Kings even greater than she was by birth. He extolled 
the services which she had rendered to France, the love and 
honour in which she was held by the two greatest Kings of the 
earth. And he recalled her famous journey to England, 
upon which so much had depended, the success which had 
crowned her efforts, and the joy and triumph of her return. 
But when he spoke of that terrible night, which was still fresh 
in the memory of his hearers, when he painted the sudden 
horror with which the awful tidings fell like a thunder-clap on 
the ears of the Court — Madame se menrt, Madame est inoi'te 
— the whole of that vast assembly broke into one sob, the 
orator himself stopped and burst into tears. 

But he recovered himself, and went on to show how, in the 
presence of that awful catastrophe, the world seemed robbed of 
its charm. After this, what is life but a dream, health but a 
name, youth but a fading flower, joy a mistake, and glory an 
illusion ? Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. Christians ! " 
he cried, " let us think of ourselves. What more do we expect ? 
Shall the dead rise up to warn us? If such fearful surprises 
are needed to startle hearts deadened by the love of this 
world, surely this example is great and terrible enough." 

Among the Englishmen present at Saint-Denis that day 
was Francis Vernon. He has left us his impressions of that 
imposing ceremony, and described the magnificence of the 
scene and the eloquence of the Bishop of Condom. But what 
struck him more than all, were the extraordinary marks of 
grief shown by those present, the tears and general wailing as, 
one by one, the officers of Madame's household cast their 
badge of office into her grave, and the coffin was borne into 
the vault. 

" On Thursday last," he writes, " was the solemnity of 
Madame's funeral, at Saint-Denis, extraordinarily pompous 
and magnificent. In that kind, nothing was wanting ; all 
symptoms of a public sorrow and affection were met together. 
The Queen, which was an honour altogether new and un- 
practised in former funerals, was there in person. The King 



384 madame's funeral. 

of Poland was there. All the Court in general, ladies as well 
as noblemen, assisted at the solemnity. The close mourners 
and those who made the reverences and offerings were the 
Prince de Cond6, who led the Princess, the Due d'Enghien, 
who handed the Duchesse de LongueviUe, the little Prince de 
Conti, who led the Princesse de Carignan. The Bishop of 
Condom preached with an eloquence something transported 
beyond his usual delicacy and sweetness. The hearse was 
extreme richly adorned. All the officers of her family, with 
great silence and mourning, cast the badges of their employ- 
ment into her grave, and as her coffin was put in, there was 
a general weeping, a circumstance something unusual at 
these great ceremonies of the interment of princes, whose 
deaths, as their lives, are made up rather of state and externall 
shows." 

So Henrietta of England was laid to rest in the crypt of 
Saint-Louis, by the side of the mother whose loss she had so 
bitterly deplored. But their ashes were not allowed to 
remain in peace. A hundred and twenty years later, on the 
16th of October 1773, an infuriated mob burst into the 
sacred precincts, dashed the monument of the Kings to pieces, 
and rifled the tombs of the dead. The first coffin then 
brought to light was that of Henrietta Maria, the second 
that of Madame. Their remains were buried, together with 
all those of the Bourbons, in a trench on the north side of the 
Basilica, known as the cemetery of the Valois. On the night 
of the 20th of January 1817, they were solemnly exhumed, 
in the presence of the Royal family of P'rance, and buried 
anew in the vault under the church. The names of the 
royal personages, whose ashes were then restored to conse- 
crated ground, were inscribed on a black marble tablet, and 
the first we read among them are those of Henriette Marie 
de France and Henriette Anne d'Angleterre. 

During the same week, two other funeral services were 
held in memory of Madame, and two other funeral orations 
were pronounced by illustrious priests. One was at the 
Abbey of Valde Gr^ce, where her heart had been laid. Here 
I'Abbd Mascaron, one of the most distinguished of the Court 
chaplains, preached the sermon in the presence of Monsieur. 



MASCARON'S ORAISON. 3^5 

He, too, paid an eloquent tribute to the beauty of Madame's 
character, and, in the words of Ecclesiasticus, described her 
as Cor docile, cor splendidiun et cor confirinatnm. " Nothing 
in this world," he said, " is more beautiful than the love of 
truth." That love it was which distinguished this great 
J'rincess in all her actions, and led her to seek instruction in 
those branches of study which are the most neglected by 
persons of her rank and age, and to take delight in reading, 
and in the society of cultivated men. This love of the best 
and highest, again made her lend a willing ear to the words 
of that great prelate who had touched her heart, and who, at 
her own request, paid her frequent visits, and conversed with 
her of those things which are eternal. Last of all, he spoke 
of the extraordinary courage and calmness with which she 
met her fate, of those dying words of hers, so strangely 
unlike the ordinary language of the Court, that even the 
priests at her bedside marvelled. " Children of the century," 
he cried in his final peroration, " hear and take warning. 
See how all your boasted riches and greatness, the pleasures 
on which you fix your heart, the objects of your desires, are 
but a shadow. Dies ineae sicut umbra praetereunt. Hear the 
words of the great Princess whom we lament ! ' Alas ! my 
God ! ' she cries, with eyes fastened on the crucifix, ' why 
have I not known Thee before ! ' Hear her, as, with her 
last breath, she declares her submission to the will of God, 
her hope in His mercy, and learn from her how to die." 

At the service held in her own church of Saint-Cloud, 
where her intestines were buried, Feuillet was the preacher. 
His sermon, inferior in point of rhetoric to those of Bossuet 
and Mascaron, was marked by a forcible and impressive 
eloquence of its own. Unlike them, he does not attempt to 
paint the charm and grace of her character, to speak of her 
sweetness and kindness of heart, of her wit and talents. He 
will only tell what he knows, and speak of what he saw on 
that strange and awful night. Watching by that death-bed, 
let the world learn the true meaning of life, there let us 
realise the sharp contrast that exists between the selfish and 
5inful laws, by which the men and women of the Court order 
their lives, and the Gospel of Christ. Let us pause and 

2 V, 



386 FEUILLET'S SERMON. 

listen to the voice which speaks to us, as it spoke to her, ask- 
ing " Whither are you going ? What are you doing ? " before 
it is too late and the doors are shut. 

This, briefly told, was the lesson taught by the stern 
Jansenist priest, who stood by Madame's bedside and saw 
her die. His sermon was afterwards printed by the Queen's 
request, and published, together with a minute relation of 
Madame's last moments, written by Feuillet, and dedicated 
to Monsieur, in language characteristic of the author. " It is 
well that all men should know there is a God in Israel, whose 
arm is not shortened. Who is able still to save to the utter- 
most all who turn to Him in the hour of their death. That 
God, who worked such wonders in Madame's heart, may 
work the same in yours. Monsieur, and that you, too, may 
glorify Him by a holy life, is the earnest prayer and desire of 
a priest, who thinks he can show you no better mark of his 
profound respect than by telling you the plain truth." 

Many years afterwards a tablet was placed on the walls 
of the church of Saint-Cloud, to the memory of Madame, by 
her only surviving daughter, Anne Marie, Queen of Sicily 
and Sardinia. It bore this inscription : — 

I^i repose una partie du corps de la tr^s-haute, tr^s- 

puissante et tr^s-excellente Princesse, 

HENRIETTE ANNE d'ANGLETERRE, 

Fille de Charles I., Roi de la Grande Bretagne, 

et de Marie Henriette de France. 

Epouse de Philippe de France, fr^re unique du Roi Louis XIV., 

Dec^ddeau Chateau de St. Cloud, ie 30 Juin 1670, 

agde de 26 ans. 

The following sonnet, said to have been written by Madame 
de Br^gis, is preserved on an old engraving of Madame's tomb, 
together with a quaint representation of the funeral pyre at 
Saint-Denis, with its statues and blazing urns, surrounded by 
a crowd of mourners : — 

"LE TOMBEAU DE MADAME. 

" Des pleurs, des pleurs sans fin, des plaintes dternelles, 
Des soupirs, des sanglots, des cris de ddsdspoir I 
Madame ne vit plus, et nous venons de voir 
Le terrible succ6z de ses peines cruelles 



SONNET ON MADAME. 387 

" Aussi cette Beaut^ qui fit honte aux plus belles, 
Cet esprit admir^ des maistres du scavoir, 
Cette grandeur supreme, et ce vaste pouvoir, 
N'estoient qu'un court passage h. des douleurs mortelles. 

'* Mais ce moment fatal de soy plein d'horreur 
Devoit-il estre encor tout arm^ de fureur ? 
Falloit-il tant de maux pour perdre tant de charmes ? 

" Ciel, qui I'avez permis, permettez ce transport, 
Faites r^gner vos loix, niais laissez-nous nos larmes 
Pour pleurer k jamais une si triste mort." 



CHAPTER XXVIII 

Portraits of Madame by Mignard, Lely and Petitot — Her Children, Marie Louise, 
Queen of Spain, and Anne Marie, Queen of Sardinia. 

Madame's portrait was often painted, by many artists, in 
different styles. Several of these works, oil paintings, minia- 
tures and engravings, have been preserved. All of them are 
interesting, and some are admirable specimens of workman- 
ship, but not one is quite satisfactory as a likeness. In some 
points they differ curiously from one another. The colour of 
Henrietta's eyes, for instance, seems to have puzzled artists 
and writers alike. Choisy describes them as black and very 
bright. Madame de Br^gis tells us they were blue. Her 
testimony is borne out by Manicamp, the writer of the famous 
libel, who knew Madame well, and had every opportunity of 
studying her closely. After praising the dazzling pink and 
white of her complexion, her rosy lips and pearly teeth, he 
dwells on the rare beauty of her eyes, which he says are blue, 
and at once sparkling and tender. In her portraits they are 
sometimes hazel, sometimes grey, but more frequently of a 
deep shade of blue. The colour of her hair in her pictures 
again varies from dark-brown to the blond cendr^ described 
by Manicamp. On the whole, Madame de Br^gis's description 
of Madame's eyes as blue, and her hair as a rich chestnut, 
seems to have been the most accurate. But it is plain that 
her face was a difficult one to paint, and that portraits seldom 
do her justice. Her beauty depended more on expression 
and colouring than on regularity of feature. No painter can 
give the sparkle of the eye, the smile which lighted up her 
whole countenance, the exquisite grace that distinguished her 
among all other women. 

The artist who painted her the most frequently, and who, 



PORTRAITS OF MADAME. 389 

on the whole, succeeded best in rendering her pecuHar charms, 
was Pierre Mignard. After spending many years in Italy^ 
studying art among the French painters, who, with Nicolas 
Poussin at their head, made a httle colony in Rome, Mignard 
returned to France in 1658, at the invitation of Louis XIV. 
In 1660 he painted a fine portrait of the King, and from that 
time his reputation was made. All the celebrities of the day 
sat to him in turn, all the ladies of the Court wanted to be 
painted, e7i Mignardes. He was employed to decorate the 
dome of Anne of Austria's new Abbey of Val-de-Grace with 
frescoes, and to paint the galleries of Saint-Cloud and 
Versailles. On Lebrun's death, he became painter to the 
King, and Moliere, who was a personal friend of his, paid him 
the greatest of compliments by describing Raphael and 
Michael Angelo as *' les Migftards de leur siechr Madame 
honoured him with her patronage, and sat to him repeatedly, at 
different periods of her life. Two of his portraits of Madame 
are in the gallery at Versailles. A third is in our own 
National Portrait Gallery. All three are half-lengths, and in 
all three, Madame is represented wearing a low, flame-coloured 
gown, a broad lace collar or berthe fastened with a large pearl 
brooch, and a pearl necklace and earrings. Her hair is parted 
in the middle, and hangs in ringlets on either side of her face, 
frizzed up to the ears, in the style of which Pepys disapproved. 
And in her arms, gaily adorned with a crimson tassel, we see 
her pet dog, Mimi, the little spaniel who figured with his 
mistress in the Ballet des Muses, and was celebrated alike in 
Benserade's verses and in Madame de Sevigne's letters. 
Another remarkably fine portrait by Mignard, a three- 
quarters-length figure, which probably belonged to Lord 
Arlington, and is now the Duke of Grafton's property, was 
lent to the Stuart Exhibition in 1890. Here Madame is 
standing, with her face turned to the left, holding a crown 
and embroidered drapery in her hands. She wears the same 
amber-coloured gown, open in front and richly trimmed with 
pearl and jet ornaments, but has a red scarf twisted about her 
shoulders. The likeness of Henrietta to her father strikes us 
forcibly in all these portraits. Her hair is dressed in the 
French style, and the whole pose and air of the figure is 



390 PORTRAITS OF MADAME. 

French, but the features resemble Charles I. far more than 
Henrietta Maria. We see the charms which so many writers 
have described, the dark and sparkling eyes, the skin of lilies 
and roses, the beautiful neck and arms, the small rosy mouth 
with the lips slightly raised at the corners. And the Duke of 
Grafton's picture, at least, gives us something of the sprightly 
air and bewitching manners which won the hearts of young 
and old alike, and made such different men as Cosnac and 
Monmouth, Buckingham and Turenne, her servants for life 
and death. We recognise the sweet gentleness which was 
the secret of her fascination, cette douceur pleine de charmes 
which Moliere praised, and La Fayette loved, which Bossuet 
recalls three times over in his Oraison, and which had so fatal 
an attraction for the Comte de Guiche. The eyes still seem 
to seek ours, as if they would ask our sympathy ; the lips are 
about to break into that enchanting smile which made her 
the most charming of princesses. 

Another portrait, almost exactly similar to the one in 
the National Portrait Gallery, but ascribed to Rigaud, was 
formerly at Saint-Cloud, where it perished in the fire of 1670. 
One, by Nicolas de Largilli^re, belongs to the Earl of Home, 
by' whom it was lent to the Stuart Exhibition. This is a 
whole-length, life-size picture, and represents Madame sitting 
under a canopy, wearing a blue embroidered robe, lined with 
ermine and trimmed with a deep lace collar, and holding a 
small mariner's compass in her left hand. It is a good 
picture and an evidently authentic portrait, but inferior in 
point of character and expression to the Duke of Grafton's 
Mignard. A half-length portrait, belonging to the Earl of 
Ashburnham, and closely resembling the Mignard at Ver- 
sailles, was also at the Stuart Exhibition. 

These portraits all belong to the latter period of Madame's 
life, and represent her in the bloom of womanhood, between 
the ages of twenty-one and twenty-five. But there is a 
second group of portraits, which belong to an earlier period, 
and give a somewhat different impression of her appearance 
and character. The first of these is a bust, which was lent 
by Sir Charles Dilke to the Stuart Exhibition. It is ascribed 
to Mignard, but differs in several points from this artist's other 



MINIATURES. 391 

portraits of Madame. Here again she wears a low, yellow 
gown, and pearls on her neck and in her hair, but the eyes 
are lighter and the locks are fairer than usual. The features 
are the same, but the face is rounder and more childlike. 
The expression is very sweet and gentle, but there is less 
anxiety to please, less of the melting grace and seductive air 
of the accomplished woman of the world, and more of the 
fresh and simple charm of girlhood. There can be little 
doubt that it was pahited soon after her marriage, when she 
was just seventeen, or even earlier. But what gives this 
attractive picture additional interest, is the marked likeness 
which it bears to the famous enamel miniature of Madame, 
by Jean Petitot. This miniature, one of the finest specimens 
of the master's art, was long in the possession of the painter 
Zincke, who treasured it during many years, as a precious 
example of Petitot's work, but finally parted with it to 
Horace Walpole. At the sale of the Strawberry Hill collec- 
tion in 1842, it passed, according to Propert, into Lady 
Burdett-Coutts's collection. Another miniature of Madame, 
by Petitot, is in the Duke of Devonshire's collection, and was 
exhibited in 1890 at the Burlington Fine Arts Club. This 
also bears a strong likeness to the Walpole enamel and the 
Dilke picture, and has all the refinement of feeling and 
mastery of his art which made Petitot famous. Two other 
miniatures of Madame, by inferior French artists, were also 
exhibited at the New Gallery, in 1890. One of these, the 
property of Lord Galloway, bears a certain likeness to 
Petitot's enamels. The other belongs to the Duke of 
Buccleuch, and was probably given by Madame herself to his 
ancestor, the Duke of Monmouth. It is mounted in a silver 
filigree frame, set with precious stones, and was evidently worn 
as a pendant. Madame wears a spray of flowers in her hair, 
and has a bright and animated expression, which gives the 
work a value independent of its artistic merit 

Both Petitot's enamels, and Mignard's bust-portrait, bear 
a striking likeness to two interesting engravings that we 
have of Madame in her early youth. The first of these is 
taken from a drawing by Claude Mellan, and forms the 
frontispiece of the Manual of Religious Instruction drawn up 



392 PORTRAITS OF MADAME. 

by Pere Cyprien de Gamaches for his petite Priiuesse^ and 
published in 1655. Here, in spite of the ringlets and pearls 
with which the ) outhful Princess is arrayed, she is still quite 
a child, with round cheeks, and a serious expression on her 
shy, young face, as in the days when she waited on the nuns 
at Chaillot The second belongs to a later period, and has 
been repeatedly engraved from a portrait by Van der Werfif, 
a Dutch copyist, who is supposed to have worked from an 
original drawing, taken by Claude Mellan about the time of 
Madame's marriage. One version of this portrait, engraved 
by J. Audran, forms the frontispiece of M. Anatole P'rance's 
edition of Madame de La Fayette's Vie de Madame Hen- 
riette ; another was engraved by Jourdy, on a large scale, for 
Vatout's Palais- Royal. This also is a bust-portrait, and 
resembles the earlier engraving in the general shape and 
character of the face. But the features are more regular, and 
there is more of actual beauty. The graceful child has 
grown up into a lovely maiden without losing any of her 
innocent charm. Pier gown is low, as in Mignard's portraits, 
trimmed with a broad band of fur, and richly adorned with 
pearls. So she may have looked on that evening at Fon- 
tainebleau, which Manicamp recalls, when, glittering with 
jewels, and radiant in the light of her own beauty, she 
entered the room, and all who were present exclaimed 
there was no one in the world to be compared with 
her. 

Another interesting print in the British Museum is taken 
from a full-length portrait formerly at H engrave Hall. Here 
Madame is represented, wearing a rich Court dress and head- 
dress of feathers, in the act of taking a rose from a basket, 
held by a child at her side. The pretty little girl, who offers 
her the flowers, is Mary Bond, the daughter of Sir Thomas 
Bond, Comptroller of Queen Henrietta Maria's household, 
who afterwards married Sir Thomas Gage of Hengrave. 
Lady Gage was fondly attached to Madame, and, at her own 
death, left her grand-daughter a bracelet with several lockets, 
given her by this Princess. One of these lockets contained 
Henrietta's own portrait, painted in enamel, and "sette with 
fourteene bigge dyamonds." Another held that of her pet 



lely's portraits. 393 

dog, Mimi, also painted in enamel, and " sette round with 
twenty little dyamonds." 

In later years, Madame's portrait was painted more than 
once by her brother's favourite artist, Sir Peter Leiy. Her 
picture belonged to the series of Beauties of Charles Il.'s 
Court, which he painted, at the Duchess of York's suggestion, 
for the Queen's bedroom at Windsor. In James Il.'s cata- 
logue, the names of these ladies are given as follows : — The 
Duchess of Cleveland, the Duchess of Richmond, Mrs Middle- 
ton, Lady Northumberland, Lady Sunderland, Lady Fal- 
mouth, Lady Denham, and her sister, Miss Brooks, Lady 
Rochester, the Comtesse de Gramont, and Madame d'Orleans. 
Ten of these portraits are now at Hampton Court. That of 
Madame alone is missing. But a picture of her by Lely, per- 
haps the one originally painted for this series, was presented 
by Charles II. to the city of Exeter after his sister's death, 
and may still be seen in the Guildhall of her native town. 
It has been photographed expressly for the present work, 
by the kind permission of the Mayor of Exeter, and our plate 
is the first engraving ever made from this touching and inter- 
esting picture. Madame is represented as still In mourning for 
her mother, in a plain white satin robe, with a black veil on 
her head. The thin, pale features show traces of failing health, 
and wear the sad expression which had become habitual 
to her, in these last days of her life. An inscription on the 
frame records the dates of her birth and death, with the 
words : — "This portrait was presented by King Charles II. in 
1672, painted by Sir Peter Lely." Madame probably sat to 
the painter on her visit to Dover, in which case this portrait 
has the additional interest of being the last that was ever 
taken. The Earl of Crawford also possesses a portrait of 
Madame, by Lely, which is said to have been given by Hen- 
rietta herself to Lady Ann Mackenzie, daughter of Colin, 
Earl of Seaforth, and wife of that faithful follower of Charles 
II., Alexander Lindsay, first Earl of Balcarres. But the 
picture is in the painter's later style, and, if Madame is the 
person represented, must have been copied from an earlier 
study. 

Another very fine portrait of Madame, by Lely, hangs in 



394 madame's daughters. 

the Queen's private apartments at Buckingham Palace. 
Here she is represented as the goddess Pallas Athen^, armed 
with helmet and spear, much in the same manner as Miss 
Stewart figures on the penny, in the guise of Britannia. It 
was in the character of Pallas, it will be remembered, that 
Madame appeared in the Ballet des Arts, on that memorable 
occasion which Madame de Sevign6 recalls with such en- 
thusiasm in her old age. Another portrait of her as Pallas, 
painted by Mignard, was bought by Walpole at the sale of 
Lady Suffolk's pictures at Marble Hill, and was sold in 1842, 
with the rest of the Strawberry Hill collection. This was 
not the only time in which Henrietta was painted in fancy 
dress. She appears as Flora, in a white robe, wreathed with 
flowers, in a group of the Royal Family, painted by Nocret, 
at Versailles. In the same gallery there is a full-length 
picture of her, clad in classical draperies and wearing golden 
sandals on her feet. This was painted by Antoine Matthieu 
in 1664. A three-quarters-length of the same picture is at 
Cassiobury, in the Earl of Essex's collection, and was ex- 
hibited, at South Kensington in 1866, as the portrait of Lucy 
Walters. In both pictures, Madame holds a medallion of her 
husband in her hands. There is also an old engraving, taken 
from a picture belonging to Lord Poulett, early in the present 
century, in which Madame is represented wearing a jewelled 
crown, surmounted with a cross, and a long veil flowing over 
her hair. We do not know on what occasion she wore this 
costume, but Lord Poulett was in Paris at the time of her 
death, and is mentioned as one of the last guests whom she 
received at Saint-Cloud. The print bears a strong resem- 
blance to Mignard's later portraits, and is no doubt genuine, 
although the original seems to have disappeared. 

A word must be added regarding Madame's daughters. 
Both of these children grew up to womanhood, and lived to 
become Queens. Marie Th^rese, the wife of Louis XIV., 
took charge of the little Mademoiselle, who was eight years 
old at the time of her mother's death, and the child was 
brought up with her cousin, the young Dauphin, until, a year 
later, Monsieur married again. The lady chosen to fill Hen- 
rietta's place was Elizabeth Charlotte of Bavaria, the daughter 



MARIE LOUISE OF SPAIN. 395 

of Madame's own first cousin, the Elector Palatine. Monsieur 
had little to do with the choice of his second wife, and his 
marriage was entirely arranged by Louis XIV., with a view to 
securing the reversion of the Elector's rights on the Pala- 
tinate. The new Madame was, in all respects, a strange con- 
trast to the Princess whom all France remembered with such 
infinite regret. Saint-Simon describes her as badly shaped, 
badly dressed, and badly disposed towards everything and 
everyone. Another contemporary speaks of her as rude, 
satirical, and gifted with an originality that no one is tempted 
to imitate. She strode through the Palais Royal in top- 
boots, with a high hat on her head, and a hunting whip in 
her hand, and shrieked and raged at the top of her voice 
when she lost her temper. But this vilaine altesse royale was 
not without her merits. She had, as Madame de Sevign6 
soon discovered, plenty of good sense and feeling. She won 
the King's respect if she did not always comply with his 
wishes, and the Court poet, Benserade, remarked wittily, how 
strange it seemed that a second Madame, so utterly unlike 
the first, should be still more highly esteemed by Louis XIV. 
than the one whom he had adored. And if Monsieur's vices, 
and the absolute empire which his old favourite, the Cheva- 
lier de Lorraine, assumed over him from the moment of his 
return, destroyed the peace of her home, the orphan children 
of Henrietta found in her an excellent step-mother. From 
the first, she took the little Mademoiselle,. Marie Louise, for 
her companion, and treated the child, who was only ten years 
younger than herself, more as a sister than a daughter. Her 
letters abound in tender memories of this charming young 
Princess, who had inherited so much of Madame's beauty and 
sweetness. Contemporaries describe the bright eyes and 
arched brows, the rosy lips and chestnut hair that recalled 
her dead mother. She had, Madame de Sevigne tells us, fhe 
same " jolis pieds qui la font si bien danser." None of all the 
Royal children was so great a favourite at Court, no one 
blushed so prettily or laughed so merrily. Yet this winning 
child was doomed to a sad end. 

" Do not take your daughter so often to Court," said la 
Grande Mademoiselle to Monsieur, with her accustomed 



396 MARIE LOUISE, QUEEN OF SPAIN, 

frankness. '* If you do, she will never be happy anywhere 
else," But the warning was thrown away on Monsieur, who 
had already made up his mind that his daughter should marry 
the Dauphin. They had been companions from childhood, 
and, as they grew up, they played and danced together. Marie 
Louise was the Dauphin's partner at every ball d^nd/ete, and 
he took the greatest pleasure in her company. But such 
a marriage did not suit the policy of Louis XIV. He had 
made up his mind that Mademoiselle should marry Charles 
II., the feeble and imbecile King of Spain, and the poor 
young Princess was sacrificed to his ambitious plans. In 
vain she threw herself at her uncle's feet, and begged to be 
allowed to remain in France. Louis was inflexible. '' I make 
you Queen of Spain," he said, " could I do more for my own 
daughter?" "Ah, sire!" she is said to have replied, "you 
might have done more for your niece." The marriage was 
celebrated with great pomp at Fontainebleau, in May 1679, 
and Monsieur's thoughts were too much absorbed in the 
jewels he wore on his coat, to heed his daughter's tears. 

" No one could help weeping," writes Madame d'Osna- 
brlick, better known as the Electress Sophia of Hanover, who 
was among the wedding guests, "at the sight of this amiable 
little Princess, who loved France so well and could not bear 
to leave her home, and the whole Court resounded with cries 
and groans." The Dauphin, being, as Elizabeth Charlotte of 
Orleans remarks, the true son of his mother, soon consoled 
himself, but this kind stepmother was full of compassion for 
the poor child's fate. " I should pity her with all my heart 
if she were not going to be so great a Queen," she writes, at 
the time of the wedding. And afterwards she comes to the 
conclusion that Spain must be the most horrible country in the 
world, and the people there the silliest and most tiresome that 
ever lived. " I really pity that poor child," she adds, " for having 
to live there. The little dogs she took with her are her only 
comfort. She may not even smile in public, or speak to her 
old servants, and all her French maids have begged leave to 
come home." The King himself, that ugly baboon, as 
Madame d'Osnabriick calls him, adored liis young wife, and 
did all in his power to make her happy. But the rigid fetters 



ANNE MARIE, QUEEN OF SARDINIA. 397 

of Spanish etiquette were too hard for her. She pined for her 
old home, and drooped Hke a caged bird, cut off from joy and 
freedom. At length, after ten years of this gilded captivity, 
a death, as sudden and strange as that of her mother, set her 
free. Madame de Sevign6 describes the painful sensation at 
the Court of France when, on the 17th of February 1 689, the 
news reached St. Cyr, where the King and Madame de 
Maintenon were assisting at a performance of Racine's Esther. 
The King rose and left the hall in tears. Madame d'Orleans 
shrieked aloud, and all the Court shared their grief for the 
poor young Queen. " Cela sent bien le fagot ! " was Madame 
de Sevign^'s own comment. By a strange fate, it had been 
the Chevalier de Lorraine who led Marie Louise to the 
altar at her wedding, while another of her mother's bitter 
enemies, the Comtesse de Soissons, accompanied her as lady- 
in-waiting to Spain, and was accused of having poisoned her. 
But the charge was never proved, and had probably no better 
foundation than in the case of Madame. When she was dead 
her half-witted husband sank slowly into complete torpor of 
body and mind. A little while before his own death, he went 
down into the vault where the coffins of his ancestors lay, and 
gazed once more on the face of the young Queen, whose 
presence had brightened his dreary existence. " Ah' reyna, 
mi reyiial^ he sobbed, " before the year is out I will come to 
you." He left no children, and Louis XIV. claimed the 
crown for his grandson, the young Duke of Anjou, who 
became Philip V. of Spain. 

A happier lot was in store for Madame's younger daughter, 
Anne Marie, Mademoiselle de Valois. She was only two 
years old when Monsieur married again, and had never known 
her mother, but she was brought up with the greatest care by 
her eccentric stepmother, who loved this Mademoiselle of the 
big mouth, as she commonly calls her, as dearly as if she had 
been her own child. In 1684 she married Victor Amadeus 
II., Duke of Savoy, afterwards King of Sicily and Sardinia ; 
but Elizabeth Charlotte still retained the liveliest affection 
for her step-daughter, and wrote weekly letters to the " good 
Queen," whose virtues and angelic goodness she is never 
tired of praising. This second Madame was the most inde- 



398 madame's descendants. 

fatigable correspondent, and devoted one day of the week to 
each of the different" countries where members of her family 
lived. On Sunday she wrote to her own friends in Hanover, 
on Monday to Spain, on Tuesday to Savoy, and so on 
throughout the week, reserving Saturday for making up her 
arrears. Many of her letters, which often filled as many as 
twenty sheets, have fortunately been preserved, and, as her 
judgments are always delivered without the smallest respect 
of persons, they are often very entertaining. She does not 
scruple to speak of Louis XIV.'s Queen as a great goose, and 
generally alludes to Madame de Maintenon as cette vieille 
sotte. Neither does she make any attempt to hide her 
contempt for her husband and his unworthy minions. " Those 
are the men," she says repeatedly, "who poisbned poor 
Madame, and have brought the wrinkles to my brow." But 
she flatters herself that she has taught the Chevalier de Lor- 
raine to keep in his place, or, as she puts it, has given ce drole 
a lesson that will last him the rest of his life. And she does 
not pretend to conceal her satisfaction, when he is cut off by 
a fearfully sudden death, in the midst of his wicked courses. 

Monsieur himself died of a fit of apoplexy at Saint-Cloud 
in 1 70 1. His wife survived him more than twenty years, 
and lived to see her son become Regent of France, on the 
death of Louis XIV. The good Queen of Sardinia died in 
1728, after having lost both her daughters in the flower of 
their youth. The elder one was Marie Adelaide, Duchess of 
Burgundy, whose son, Louis XV., succeeded his great-grand- 
father on the throne of France. The younger one, Marie 
Louise, another bright and intelligent Princess, became the 
wife of Philip V., King of Spain. By her talents and force 
of character she acquired great influence in state affairs, 
but, to the grief of her husband and subjects, she died in 
1714, at the same age as Madame. Her two sons reigned 
in turn, but left no issue. 

On the death of our Queen Anne in 1714, the eldest prince 
of the House of Savoy claimed the crown of England, by 
reason of his descent, through his mother, from Charles I., but 
as he professed the Roman Catholic religion, his claim was 
set aside in favour of the House of Brunswick, and the son 



madame's descendants. 399 

of the Electress Sophia ascended the throne of the Stuarts, 
This branch of the House of Savoy is not yet extinct, and, 
at the present time, a direct descendant of Madame, Marie 
Therihse, Princess of Modena, and wife of Prince Louis of 
Bavaria, is the actual representative of the Hne of Charles 
the First. 



INDEX 



Abbeville, 337, 

Abingdon, 2. 

Aigues Mortes, 182. 

Aix-la-Chapelle, 258, 265, 266, 279, 333. 

Amsterdam, 167. 

Albemarle, Duke of, 5^, 56, 236. 

Andro7nagite, 195, 196. 

Anne of Austria, Queen-mother of France, 
Sends help to Henrietta Maria, 3 ; receives 
her in France, 17 ; in distress during Fronde, 
19, 20 ; invites English exiles to Saint- 
Germain, 22 ; grants letters-patent to nuns 
of Chaillot 25 ; her bigotry, 28, 30 ; kindness 
to Princess Henrietta, 33, J4, 37 ; plans for 
her marriage, 36, 47 ; receives Princess of 
Orange, 41 ; disputes with Mademoiselle, 45, 
65 ; opposes the King's marriage with Mane 
Mancini, 46, 47 ; present at his marriage 
with the Infanta, 48 ; asks for Henrietta's 
hand for Monsieur, 63 ; present at Mon- 
sieur's marriage, 84, 85 ; visits Dampierre, 
loi ; present at the Ballet des Saisons, loi ; 
displeased with Madame, 104 ; admira- 
tion for Bossuet, 114; visits Madame at 
daughter's birth, irs; complains to Mon- 
sieur of her conduct, n6 ; her illness, 135, 
141; inquired after by Charles II., 138; 
travels in Madame's barge, 142, 157 ; sides 
with Monsieur in his disputes with Madame, 
J56 ; Rives a baliitasquS. 156 ; present at birth 
of Madame's son, 104 ; reconciled with 
Madame, 184, 185 ; last illness, 214, 215, 225 ; 
death and funeral services, 225-228. 
Anne Elisabeth de France, 129. 
Anne de Gonzague, Princesse Palatine, 61, 62, 

i35> 320. 339-342- 
Anne, Queen of England, 207, 298, 333, 373, 

398. 
Anne Maria, Queen of Sardinia, 294, 322, 372, 

386, 397, 398. 
Arlington, Henry, Earl of, 2ro, 224, 258, 259, 

264, 270, 281, 285-288, 290, 292, 332, 342, 358, 

362-367, 389. 
. Armagnac M. d', 143. 
Armagnac, Mdme. d', 143, 146, 157- 
Armstrong, Sir Thomas, 337, 338, 359. 
Arnauld, 188, i8g 330. 
Arras, 245, 328. 
Arundel, Lord, 276, 282, 289, 297, 292, 332, 

382. 
Ashburnham, Earl of, 390. 
Aubigny, Lodovico Stuart, Abb6 d', 132. 
Audley End, 273, 283. 



B. 



Bagshot, 271. 
Balcarres, Earl of, 393. 



Ballet des Arts, 129-131, 394; des Amours 
d^giiisis, 156; de r Impatience des Amourenx, 
82 ; de la Maison Royale, 113 ; des Muses, 
239, 240, 380, 389 ; de PrintempSy 286 ; de 
Psyche, 40 ; des Saisons, 101-103, 107 ; de 
Thetis^ 34-36; de Venus, 198. 

Barberini, Cardinal, 376. 

Bartet, 74-75. 

Bassompierre, Marichal de, 25. 

Bastille, 24, 136, 182, 190, 309. 

Bath, 3. 

Beaufort, Due du, loi, 235. 

Beauvais, 71, 118, 334. 

Beauvais, HOtel de, 64. 

Beauvilliers, 125. 

Bijart, Madeleine, io8. 

Bellefonds, Marichal de, 188, 333, 357, 362. 

Bellings, Sir Richard, 282, 332. 

Benninghen, Van, 200, 204, 262, 332. 

Benserade, 35, 122, 129, 198, 240, 389, 395 

B^rinice, 105, 196. 

Berkeley, Charles, see Falmouth. 

Berkeley, Sir John, 2, 4, 6, 9, 12. 

Beuvron, Chevalier de, 319, 324, 368. 

Blantyre, Lord, ita. 

Boileau, 194. 

Boisfranc, 345. 

Bonnefonds, 200, 204. 

Bond, Sir Thomas, 297, 392. 

Bordeaux, 208. 

Boscher, 360. 

Bossuet, Abbd, 1, 15, 114, 121, 188, 191, 228, 
229, 250, 298, 301, 321, 353, 354, 356, 357, 

373i 379-384. 390- 
Boulogne, 333, 335. 

Bourbon, Baths of, 45, 211, 219, 222, 261. 
Bourdaloue, Abbi, 184. 
Boyer, 164, 167. 
Brayer, M., 353. 
Breda, 37, 48, 52, 54, 238. 
Br^gis, Comtesse de, 49, 142, 189, 386, 388. 
Bremen, 204, 205. 
Brissac, Due de, 130. 
Brissac, Duchesse de, 130, 183. 
Bristol, 136, 13^. 
Browne, Sir Richard, 14, 30. 
Bruges, 43, 45. 
Brussels, 48, 52. 
Buckingham, Duke of, 74, 76, 81, 84, 106, 258- 

261, 274, 276, 281-286, 289, 291, 332, 359, 

360, 362, 382, 390. 
Buckingham Palace, 303. 
Burnet, Bishop, 184, 368. 
Bussy-Rabutin, 189-191, 196, 242, 250, 300, 

334> 345. 375> 376- 



Cadiz, 205, 206. 

Calais, 12, 13, 71, 125, 126, 313, 335. 

Cambray, 286, 



2 C 



4o: 



INDEX. 



Canterbury, 56, 314, 334. 

Cape Verde, 161, 204. 

Carew, Sir George, 141. 

Carignan, Princesse de, 223, 384. 

Carisbrook Castle, 22. 

Cassiobury, 394. 

Castlemaine, Barbara, Lady, 119, 121, 145, 

147, 152. 393- 

Cateux, M. de, 147. 

Catherine of Braganza, wife of Charles II., 112, 
ir9-i2r, 128, 132, 138, 14s, 147, 150, 152, 158, 
227, 263, 264, 273, 287, 292, 333, 336. 

Challlot, 25, 33, 37, 42, 49, so, 53, 54, 56, 57, 
92, 135, 2^8-300, 392. 

Chalais, Prince de, 125, 126. 

Chamberlain, Dr, 360. 

Chambord, 186, 298. 

Chantilly, 119, 140. 

Chapelles, Comte de, 60, 136, 137, 175, 176, 271, 
272. 

Charles I., 1-6, 9-14, 20-22, 27, 30, 169, 170, 398. 

Charles II. at Exeter, 5-7 ; in Pans, 18, 19 ; 
recognised as King, 22 ; defeated at Wor- 
cester, 23 ; pays court to Mademoiselle, 23- 
24 ; disputes with mother on religious ques- 
tions, 27-31 ; leaves France, 29 ; lives at 
Cologne, 37, 38 ; at Bruges, 43 ; serves 
Spanish army, 44 ; visits Colombes, 51 affec 
tion for Henrietta, 33-51 ; letters to her, 53- 
57 ; his restoration, 54-58 ; consents to Hen- 
rietta's marriage, 76 ; Letters to Madame, 
109-112, 120-128, 131-133, 136-140, 146-154, 
157-163, 166-168, 171-176, 178, 199-211, 213- 
216, 220-224, 227, 228, 236-238, 247-249, 251, 
255-257, 259-264, 268-276. 279-280, 282-285, 
288-293 ; marriage to Catherine of Bra- 
ganza, 119 ; sells Dunkirk, 123; corresponds 
with Louis XIV. through Henrietta, 123, 
132, 133 ; gives Madame a barge, 142 ; ad- 
miration for Miss Stewart, 140, 147 ; attack 
of fever, 166; seeks to detach Louis XIV. 
from Dutch Alliance, 171, 202, 220 ; sends 
Corbetta's music to Madame, 213; signs 
secret treaty at Colombes, 238 ; anger at Miss 
Stewart's marriage, 246-248 ; anxiety as to 
Madame's health, 228, 261 ; sends Duke of 
Monmouth to Paris, 251 ; advice to Madame, 
269 ; negotiates secret treaty^ 276-293 ; secret 
conversion to Roman Catholic Religion, 276 ; 
close of correspondence with Madame, 293 ; 
gives his mother's property to Madame, 297- 
298 ; complains of Madame's wrongs, 306 ; 
urges Madame to visit England, 308-318, 325- 
330 ; receives Madame at Dover, 331 ; signs 
Treaty of Dover, 332, 333 ; parting giftb to 
his sister, 334, 335 ; grief at her death, 359- 
362 ; gives Lely's portrait to City of Exeter, 

393- 
Charles Emmanuel, Duke q( Savoy, 62, 70, 76, 

135. ; ^ . 

Charles II., King of Spain, 396-397, 
Chartres, 109, 135. 

Cli5tillon, Madame de, see Mecklerabourg. 
Chatham, 288. 

Chesterfield, Philip, Earl of, 79, 199, 249, 250. 
Ch^vreuse, Duchesse de, loi. 
Chigi, Cardinal, 168. 
Chilly, ii. 

Choiseul, M- de, 376. 
Choisy, Abbi5 de, 88, 90, 388. 
Clarendon, Edward Hyde, Earl of, 7, 27-29, 37, 

38, 80, 120, 136, 148, 248, 249, 259, 260, 264. 
Clirembault, M. de, 157. 
CItSrembault, Madame de, 306, 322. 
Cleveland, Duchess of, 393. 
ClilTord, Sir 'J'homas, 276, 332. 
Coetqucn, Madame de, 317. 
Colbert, 101, 108, 252, 291, 311, 313. 
Colbert de Croissy, 268-271, 275, 281, 287, 289, 

291, 306, 3'i7, 331-335, 357. 359i 3^2, 378. 



Cologne, 29, 31, 37. 

Colombes, 37, 45, 49, 51, 52, 57, 59, 63, 69, 90, 

93, 104, 219, 222, 237, 238, 280, 295. 
Colonna, Prince, go. 
Comminges, M. de, 95, 102, 126, 128, 132, 133, 

'36> 139, 1471 1481 160, 177, 202, 206, 210, 

212. 
Comminges, Madame de, 102, 207. 
Compiegne, 235, 244, 255, 328. 
Cond^, Prince de, 24, 44, 65, 84, 85, 100, 119, 

151, 187, 222, 257, 347, 377, 382. 
Cond^, Princesse de, 85, 379, 382, 384. 
Conti, Prince de, 34, 92. 
Conti, Princesse de, 34, 118. 
Corbetta, Francesco, 213. 
Corneille, 168, 194, 196. 
Correggio, 297. 
Cosin, Bishop, 28. 
Cosnac, Daniel de. Bishop of Valence, 84, 85, 

142, 231-235, 241, 243-246, 250, 252-254, 256, 

301-307. 325. 328, 354, 378, 390- 
Courtin, M., 202, 219, 222. 
Courtray, 326, 328, 330. 
Coutts, Lady Burdett, 391. 
Coventry, Sir William, 283. 
Cowley, 18. 
Craven, Lord, 78. 
Criqui, Due de, 168, 348. 
Crdqui, Duchesse de, 91. 
Crofts, Lord, 109, 110, 112, J45, 237, 281, 283, 

294-298. 
Cromwell, Oliver, 25, 28, 29, 31, 39, 44, 46, 47. 
Culpepper, li, 18, 
Cyprian, Fattier, see Gainaches. 



D. 

Dalkeith, Lady, see Countess of Morton. 

Dauphin, Louis de France, 109, 394, 396. 

Davenant, Sir William, i8, 69. 

Denmark, Prince of, 134. 

Derby, Countess of, 68, 70, 73, 75, 78, 79, 81, 

91, I07. 

Desbordes, Madame, 352, 366, 380. 

Dieppe, 5, 175. 

Dodington, 3x2-314. 

Donnadieu Collection, 57, x6i. 

Douay, 243, 244, 328. 

Dover, 56, 71, 72, 314, 317, 318, 325-334. 

Dover^ Treaty of, 333-335. 

Downing, Sir George, 159, 160, 163. 

Dunkirk, 44, 98, 110, 123, 182, 216, 330-331. 

Duquesne, 295-296. 

Dyke, Elinor, 12, 15. 



Ecole des Femtnes, Molifere's, 192-194. 

Edward, Prince Palatine, 61, 72, 340. 

Effiat, Marquis d", 324, 360, 368, 369. 

Elboeuf, Due d', 335, 362. 

Elboeiif, Mademoiselle de, i8g. 

Elizabeth Charlotte of Bavaria, Princess Pala- 
tine, second wife of Monsieur, 32, 99, 185, 
369. 370, 376, 377. 394-398- 

Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, 29, 31. 

Elizabeth, Princess, 10, 22. 

Enghien, Due d', 85, 135, 241, 322, 384. 

Epernoii Duchesse d', 344, 347, 349, 353, 374. 

iLsprit, M., 240, 295, 346, 347. 

Essex, Earls of, 3, 394. 

Esther, Racine's, 397. 

ICstrades, M. d', no, 111, 158, 159, 

Kvilyn, John, 22, 57, 58, 73, 74, 79, 260. 

Exeter, i-ii, 15, 172, 300, 393. 



INDEX. 



403 



F. 

Fairfax, Sir Thomas, 10. 

Falconbridge, Lord, 308, 312-314. 

Falmouth, 4. 

Falmouth, Charles Berkeley, Ear! of, 153, 178, 

179, 201, 203, 208, 218, 220. 

Faure, Bishop of Amiens, 300, 301. 

Feuillet, M., Canon of Saint-Cloud, 350-355, 

.385, 386. 
Fiennes, Madame de, 69, T36, 163, 175, 208. 

210, 307, 329, 364. 
Fiennes, Mademoiselle de, 198, 231, 251, 304. 
Fitzhardinge, Lord, see Falmouth. 
Floquet, M., 379. 
Flora, Madame as, 286, 394- 
Fontainebleau, 58, 63, 91, 94, 97, ino, toi, 106, 

108, log, 156, 157, 160, 164, 187,191,235, 396. 
Fouquet, lot, icS, 
France, Anatole, M., 94, 339, 392. 
Franche, Comti, 257. 
Fronde, Wars of the, 19-24. 
Fuller, Dr Thomas, 6-g. 



G. 

Gage, Mary Bond, Lady, 392. 

Gage, Sir Thomas, 392. 

Galloway, Earl of, 391. 

Gamaches, Pcre Cyprien de, 21, 26, 28, 49, 72, 

80, 8q, 90, 295, 298, 392. 
Gamacnes, M.adame de, 346. 
Godolphin, Lord, 325. 
Gondrin, Archivegue de Sens, 189. 
Gourdon, Madame de, 345, 377. 
Grafton, Duke of, 389, 390. 
Gramont, Marichal de, gi, 106, 183, 184, 226, 

246, 322, 350, 380. 
Gramont, Comte de, 106, 121, 148, 152, 153, 

175, 214, 217, 2i3, 331, 375, 382. 
Gramont, Elizabeth Hamdton, Comtesse de, 

14B, 153, 175, 180, 218, 331, 382, 393. 
Green, Everett, Mrs, 57, 161. 
Grignan, Madame de, 130, 131, 198, 376. 
Guiche, Armand, Comte de, 91, 102, 105-107, 

113, 143, 144, 165, 166, 180-184, 186, 272, 350, 

366, 390. 
Guido, 297. 

H, 

Hague, The, 22, 25, 26, 40, 44, 56, 158, 159, 
235. 

Hamilton, Anthony, 247, 325, 331. 

Hamilton, James, 138, 151, 153, 167, 171, 258. 
262, 282, 382. 

Hampton Court, 81, 120, 209, 218, 223, 251. 

Haro, Dom Luis de, 47. 

Henrietta Anne, Duchess of OrIeans._ Birth at 
Exeter, 2 ; baptised, 5, 6 ; besieged in Exeter, 
6-9 ; taken toOatlands, 10; escapes to France, 
12-16 ; in the Louvre during the Fronde, 20, 
2T ; brought up a Roman Catholic, 26-28 ; 
taught by Pere Cyprien, 28 ; visits toChaillot, 
33 ; appears at Court fCies, 34, 40, 45 ; in 
Ballet of Thetis, 35 ; at dances in the Louvre, 

35, 37 ; rumours of marriage with Louis XIV., 

36, i6, 47 ; portrait by Madame de Br^gis, 
49 ; by Madame de Motteville, 67 ; by M. de 
la Serre, 69; by Cosnac, 234, 235 ; by Chester- 
field, 249, 250 ; admired by Reresby, 50, 51, 
58 ; letters to Charles IL in Library of Lam- 
beth Palace, 52, 57, 59, 60, 112, 144, 169, 170, 
177-179, 181, 182, 200, 207, 209, 210, 212, 214, 
216-218; in Record Office, 127, 128, 160, j6i, 

176, 210, 226; betrothed to Monsieur, 63; 
visit to England, 71-81 ; return to Paris, 82 ; 
marriage, 84-87; success at Court, 88-go; visits 



Saint-Cloud, 93 ; FontainebleaUj 94 ; appears 
in Ballet des Saisons, loi, 102 ; intimacy with 
King, 96-105 ; Friendship with Comte de 
Guiche, 105-107, 113-116 ; ill health, 109-156 ; 
gives birth to daughter, 115 ; at Colombes, 
ri8 ; at Chantillyj 119 ; letters to her mother, 
ng ; begs the King to remove La Valliere, 
122; appears in Ballet des Arts, 129-131; 
visits King during illness, 136 ; water parties 
to Saint-Cloud, 142 ; deceived by De Vardes, 
143-144 ; quarrels among her ladies, 146 ; 
sends pictures to Catherine of Braganza, 150 ; 
settles disputes between Lord HoUis and 
French ministers, 150-155 ; gives birth to a 
son, 104, 105 ; discovers De Vardes' treachery, 
166. i8i ; demands redress from Louis XIV» 
and Charles H., 181 ; letter to Hollis, 170 ; 
last meeting with De Guiche, 183 ; opinion 
of contemporary writings as to character, 184- 

186 ; asks Madame de La Fayette to write 
story of her life, 186187 ; life at Saint-Cloud, 

187 ; friendship with Turenne, Triville and 
members of Port-Royal, 187-189 ; kindness to 
Bussy, igo ; patronage of Moliere, 191-194 ; 
of Boiieau, 194 ; of R.acine, 194-196 ; fine taste 
and love of letters, 196, 197 ; joy of victory o( 
the English. 216 ; tries to avert war between 
France and England, 222-226 ; present at 
Anne of Austria's death, 225; hears Bossuet 
preach, 228 ; incurs King's displeasure, 231 ; 
seeks Cosnac's help, 233 ; appears in Ballet 
des Muses-, 239 ; grief at son's death, 241 ; ill- 
ness at Saint-Cloud, 244 ; goes to Villers- 
CotteretSj 245 ; intercedes for Miss Stewart, 
247 ; receives Duke of Monmouth, 250, 265 ; 
grief at Cosnac's disgrace, 252, 253 ; ill health, 
Z49, 261-263 ; corresponds with Charles IL's 
ministers, 258 ; conducts negotiations between 
Charles IL and Louis XIV., 268-293; letter 
to Leighton, 281 ; gives birth to second 
daughter, 205; grief at mother's death, 296; 
gifts from Charles IL, 297, 298 ; with Madame 
de La Fayette at Saint-Cloud, 298 ; friend- 
ship with Bossuet, 299-321 ; letter to Cardinal 
de Retz, 299 ; attends funeral services at 
Chaillot, 300 ; at Saint-Denis, 301 ; promises 
Cosnac a Cardinal's hat, 302 ; urges him to 
come to Paris, 304 ; grief at Madame de 
Saint-Chaumont's di.sgrace, 305-306 ; letters to 
her, 310, 311, 31s, 316, 3x8-321, 322-325, 327, 
J28, 337, 338 ; letters to Cosnac, 302-307 ; 
journey to Flanders, 328-331 ; visit to Dover, 
3SO-335'. concludes secret treaty, 332-333; 
refuses to leave Mile, de KdroCialle in England, 
33^ ; return to France, 335, 336 ; last days at 
Saint-Cloud, 337-343 ; letter to Anne de 
Gonzague, 340-343 ; last illness and death, 
3^4-355 ; messages to Charles IL, 364-366; 
jgift to Bossuet, 354, 381 ; suspicions of poison- 
'"g> 359-371 i post-mortem, 360 ; her death 
due to natural causes, 370, 372 ; funeral 
services, 378-387 ; her portraits, 388-394 ; her 
children, 394-398. 

Henrietta Maria, Queen, wife of Charles L 
Birth of daughter at Exeter, 3; escapes to 
France, 3-5 ; an.yieties as to child, 7 ; joy at 
safe arrival of Princess, 14 ; hardships during 
the Fronde, 20 ; news of King's death, 21, 
22 ; founds Convent of Chaillot, 26 ; brings 
up Princess as a Roman Catholic, 27, 28 ; 
tries to convert Duke of Gloucester, 29-31 ; 
and Princess of Orange, 42 ; joy at the 
Restoration, 57, 58; letters to Charles II. , 
56-58, 63, 65 ; plans for Henrietta's marriage, 
62; visit to England, 71-81; present at 
Henrietta's marriage, 83-85 ; visits Fontaine- 
bleau, loi ; letter to Madame de Motteville, 
104, 105 ; present at birth of Madame' s 
daughter, 115; goes to England, 118; 



404 



INDEX. 



mentioned in Charles II. 's letters, 121, 132, 
i37> '51. 154) 160, 167, 220, 249, 263, 282, 
285; returns to France, 219; mediates be- 
tween Louis XIV. and Charles II., 222-226, 
238 ; at Colombes and Pari.';, 246 ; at Saint- 

- Cloud, 243; at Villers-Cotterets, 245; inter- 
cedes for Cosnac, 252 ; last illness and death, 
294-296 ; funeral services, 296, 299-301 ; dis- 
posal of her property, 297, 298. 

Henry, Duke of Gloucester, 10, 28-31, 44,68, 
69. 79. 

Henry, Prince of Wales, 169. 

Hiliire, M. de la, 289-291. 

Holbein, 297. 

Holmes, 204. 

Home, Earl of, 390. 

Humieres, Marichal de, 213. 



I. 



Ile des Faisans, 47. 
He Jourdain, 305. 
Inchiguin, Lord, 52, 
Isle 01 Wight, 223. 



Janton, 53, 54. 
Jersey, Earl of, 3. 



K. 

K^ROUALLE, MlLE. DE, 33I, 334. 
Killigrew, Harry, 260, 261, 265, 273. 
Kinalmeky, Madame de, 59. 
Kingston, 218. 
Kreuznacb, 184. 



La Fare, Marquis de, 185, 197. 
La Fayette, Louise de, 25. 
La Fayette, Madeleine de la Vergne, Marquise 
de, 32, 33, 91, 92, 116, 119, 142, 186, 189, 233, 

298, 299. 306. 337) 344-347, 349-353) 368, 377' 

390. 
La Fontaine, 70, 71, 86, 108, jgi, 194, 267. 
Lambeth, 52, 59, 72. 
Lambert^, Thomas, 12, 15, 272. 
Landrecies, 328, 329. 
Langres, 308. 309. | 

Laonj 146. 

Largillifere, Nicolas de, 390. 
La Rochefoucauld, 91, 18S, 194. 
Lauzun, M. de, 272 328, 374. 
La Valliere, Louise, Duchess de, 103, 105, 108, 

113, 114, 121, 122, r29, 130, 162,230,239,244, 



245) 324. 3?ii. 349. 374 
Leighton, Sir Ellis, 



306. 



272, 275, 280, 281, 285, 



Lely, Sir Peter, 9, 393, 394. 

Le Notre, 93, 174. 

Lille, 244, 245, 330. 

Lionne, M. de, 136, 151, 160,202,204, 276, 278, 

289, 317, 357i 359) 36i> 367. 37i. 

Longueville, Due de, 82, 

Longueville. Duchesse de, 24, j88, 384. 

Lorraine, Chevalier de, 245, 246, 251, 252, 269, 
27s. 3°4i 306-320, 323, 324, 327, 337, 338-343, 
360, 362, 368-370. 

Lorraine, Duke of, 279, 280. 

Louis XIV. receives Henrietta Maria in Paris, 
17; at Saint-Germain during Fronde, ip, 
20 ; returns to Paris, 22-24 • dances in 
Ballets, 34, 36, 40 ; prefers the Mancini to 
Henrietta, 36, 37 ; passion for Marie Man. 
cini, 46, 47 ; marries the Infanta, 48, 49 ; 



triumphal entry into Paris, 64 ; present 
at Monsieur's marriage, 84, 85 ; letter to 
Charles II., 87 ; to Madame, 94; character, 
95, 96 ; friendship with Madame, 97-105, 
no; love for La Valliere, 108, 113, 114, 
122 ; figures in Carrousel, n8 ; in Ballet 
(les Arts, 130; falls ill with measles, 135, 
136; employs Madame to correspond with 
Charles II., 124, 133, 150-152, 176; gives 
fetes at Versailles, 156^ 242, 267 ; letters to 
Charles II. on birth of^ Due de Valois, 165; 
sends Ruvigny, 177 ; punishes De Vardes, 
183 ; sends special embassy to England, 
202 ; rejoices at English victory, 217 ; 
present at mother's death, 225 ; declares 
war against England, 226 ; recognises La 
Valliere's son, 230 ; refuses Monsieur the 
government of Languedoc, 232 ; discovers 
Manicamp's libel, 232 ; warlike prepara- 
tions, 235 ; signs secret treaty at Colombes, 
238 ; letter to Charles II. on Due de Valois' 
death, 241 ; invades Flanders, 243-245 ; 
regard for Cosnac, 246, 254 ; takes Ma- 
dame's part against Lorraine, 252 ; con- 
quest of Franche-Comtd, 257, 258 ; letter 
10 Madame, 258 ; passion for Madame 
dc Montespan, 244, 261, 267, 328 ; negotiates 
secret treaty with Charles II., 275-292 ; 
goes to Chambord, 298 ; present at Hen- 
rietta Maria's funeral, 301 ; dismisses 
Madame de Saint-Chaumont, 306 ; im- 
prisons Chevalier de Lorraine, 309^ 311 ; 
presents to Madame, 314 ; at baptism of 
Mile, de Valois, 322; arranges Madanie's 
journey to England, 317-326; journey to 
Flanders, 328-330 ; signs Treaty of Dover, 
333 ; kiiidncss to Madame on return, 336- 
338 ; visits Madame on her doath-bed, 348- 
350; grief at her death, 356-358, 378, 379; 
letters to Charles II., 357; to Pomponne, 
361 ; orders splendid funeral, 378 ; gives 
niece in marriage to King of Spain, 396 ; 
claims crown of Spain for grandson, 397. 

Louis, XV., 398. 

Louvois, M. de, 190, 235, 252, 276, 304, 305, 

Louvre, 14, 17, 19-21, 23, 25, 28, 33, 40, 4I) 
113, 114, 117, 118, 128, 131, 141, 156, 157, 
223. 

Lowestoft, 215. 

Lulli, Jean-Baptiste, 35, 96, 100, 129, 187, 
268, 301, 382. 

Luxembourg, Palais du, 76, 309. 

Lyons, 309. 

M, 

Madame, sec Henrietta Anne, Duchess of 

Orleans. 
Madame, the second, see Elizabeth Charlotte 

of Bavaria. 
Mancini, Marie, 46, 47, 90. 
Mandeville, Lord, 139. 
Manicamp, 184, 232, 388, 392. 
Mansart, Jules, 93. 
Marie Louise d'Orlians, Queen of Spain, 115, 

118, 161, 162, 225, 30s, 306, 338, 370, 373, 

395-397- 
Marie Louise of Savoy, Queen of Spain, 398. 
Marie Th^rJse of Austria, Queen of France, 

49, 63, 84, 85, 91, 96, 97, loi, 104, 109, 113, 

115, 117, 118, 121, 122, 135, 140, 142, 165, 

16B, 176, 177, 179, 219, 225, 226, 230, 242, 

245, 294, 298, 31S, 326-328, 336, 348-350, 

356, 382, 386, 394. 
Marsaii. M. de, 319, 324. 
Marseilles, 311. 
Mary, Princess of Orange, Princess Royal of 

England, 23, 26, 29, 31, 37-44, 52, 67-69, 

75, 77-79- 



INDEX. 



405 



Mascaron, Abbd, 384, 385. 

Mayerne, Sir Theodore, 3, 261, 263, 295. 

Mazarin, Cardinal, 24, 34, 36-39, 44, 48, 51, 

52, 54, 58, 62, 66, 83, 87, 95, 97, 134, 170. 
Mazarin, Due de, 90, 261. 
Mazarin, Hortense Mancini, Ducbesse de, 48, 

58. Qo, 260, 261, 265, 275. 
Mccklembourg, Uuke of, 135. 
Mccklembourg, Madame deChStillon, Duchess 

of, 48, 91, 127, 128, 13s, 137, 146, 148, 345, 

358. 366, 371, 380. 
Mellan, Claude, 391, 392. 
Metz, 228. 

Middleton, Mrs, 393. 
Mignard, t, 96, 142, 240, 389-394. 
Mimi, 240, 389, 393. 
Misanthrope, Molifere's, 192. 
Moliere, 92, 93, 96, 101-104, 108, 129, 156, 230, 

24O1 3891 390- 
Monaco, Madame de, gi, 102, 106, 107, 258, 

272, 273. 
Monmouth, James, Duke of, 138, 250, 251, 255- 

257, 263, 264-266, 268, 269, 278, 331, 339, 390, 

Monsieur, see Philip, Duke of Orleans. 
MonlAKii, Abbot, Walter, 38-30, 57, 82, 1O5, 

297-299, 322, 364, 365. 
Montagu, Ralph, 123, 127, 131, 132, 257, 258, 

275, 2B7, 289, 297, 313, 315, 335, 337, 339, 

342, 343> 351-353. 358-367. 37°. 382- 

Montargis, 64, 76. 

Montausier, Mile, de, 154. 

Monlecuculi, lOg. 

Montespan, Mile, de Mortimart, Marquis de, 
91, 128, 130, 157, 244, 261, 267, 324, 328, 349. 

Montespan, Marquis de, 130, 261. 

Montpelier, 183. 

Montpensier, Mile, de, 17-19, 23, 24, 41, 42, 45, 
49, 60-62, 65, 66, 76, 84, 85, 88, Qo, 98, 115, 
134. 157. 226, 241, 309, 326, 328-331, 333, 336, 
339. 348, 350, 373, 374. 379. 395- . 

Morton, Anne Villiers, Lady Dalkeith, Coun- 
tess of, 3-15, 26, 90, 300, 335. 

MotteviUe, Madame de, 19, 21, 22, 36, 37, 43, 
57, 64, 65, 67, 104, 105, 135, 184-186. 

Muskerry, Lord, 215. 



N. 

NAVAILLES, Due DE, 162, 163. 
Navailles, Duchesse de, 162, 163. 
Newmarket, 273, 278, 282-284. 
New York, 176, 
Nicholas, Sir Edward, 27, 29. 
Nicols, Captain, 176, 
Noirmoustier, Marquis de, 125, 126. 



Oatlands, 10, 12. 

Oneale, 176. 

Orange, 52. 

Orange, William, Prince of, 23, 42, 43, 52, 158, 

•59- 
Orleans, 2, 4, 304. 

Orleans, Gaston, Duke of, 18, 45, 63, 97. 
Orleans, Mademoiselle d', 49, 85, 90, 91. 
Ormesson, Oliver d', 241, 242, 301, 336. 
Ormonde, Marquis of, 30, 31, 66, 282. 
Oxford, 224, 227. 
Oyens, 208, 209. 



Palais-Royal, 25, 28, 30, 37, 38, 51, 58, 84, 85, 
88, 93, 114, 118, 122, 131, 157, 183, 184, 187, 
198, 22s, 232, 240, 24s, 251,253, 256, 305, 321, 
322. 



Palais- Royal, Vatout's History Oj, 392. 

Pallas, Madame as, 131, 393. 

Patin, Gui, 62, 116, 129, 135, 164, 214,225, 226, 
232, 233, 235, 241, 242, 336, 340, 371. 

Pepys, 73, 74, III, 145, 389. 

Petitot, 391. 

Philippe de France, Duke of Orleans. Boy- 
hood, 33, 39, 45, 48 ; attachment to Princess 
Henrietta, 60-63 ; asks her hand in marriage, 
62 ; urges her return to France, 79, 82 ; meets 
her at Pontoise, 82 ; jealousy of Buckingham, 
84; marriage, 84-87; resides at Tuileries, 89, 
90 ; visits Saint-Cloud, 93 ; Fontainebleau,94 ; 
character, 97-99 ijealousof his wife's influence 
with the King, 104 ; quarrels with Comte de 
Guiche, 107, 116; takes part in Courtyi?:'^ j, 
iiB, 119, 156, 169, 198; letters to Charles IL, 
125, 146, 164, 179, 244, 249, 286; visits 
Chantilly, 140; disputes with Madame, 146, 
157 ; mentioned in Charles IL's letters, 148, 
149, 167, 178, 227, 256, 257, 266, 270, 271 ; 
letters to Madame de SabM, 189 ; congratu- 
lates Charles on his victory, 216, 217 ; attends 
his mother's death-bed, 224 ; infatuation for 
Chevalier de Lorraine, 231, 245, 269, 3o6-3r3, 
316-327, 337.3431 innucncc of Cosnnc, 231- 
2J3; serves in campaign of Flanders, 243-245; 
disgrace of Cosnac, 252-254, 305 ; claims Hen- 
rietta Maria's possessions, 297 ; attends 
funeral service, 299-301 ; leaves Court on Lor- 
raine's arrest, 309; consents to return, 314 ; 
opposes Madame's journey to England, 317- 
320, 323, 325 ; unkindness to Madame, 329, _ 
331. 336-343. 366 ; behaviour during Madame's' 
illness, 344-358, 379, 380 ; suspected of poison- 
ing Madame, 359, 367-369 ; seizes her papers 
and money, 364, 365 ; pays court to Made- 
moiselle, 374, marries the Princess Palatine, 
394 ; death, 398. 

Philip V. of Spain, 397, 398. 

Pomponne, M. de, 199, 330, 361, 367. 

Pontoise, 28, 29, 82. 

Porter, George, 215, 223. 

Port-Royal, 25, 188, 189, 194, 374. 

Portsmouth, 81, 86, 271, 272. 

Poulett, Lady, 6. 

Poulett, Lord, 337, 394. 

Pregnani, AbW, 278, 279, 283, 284, 292. 

Propert, 391. 



Reresdv, Sir John, 50, 51, 58. 
Retz, Cardinal de, 20, 21, 299, 339, 
Richmond, Frances Stewart, Duchess of, 102, 

112, 14s, 147, 246-248, 260,262, 263, 274, 393, 

394- 
Richmond, Duke of, 246-248, 262. 
Rigaud, 390. 
Robarts, Lord, 283. 
Rochester, Lady, 393. 
Rochester, Lord, 200, 283, 376. 
Rohan, Chevalier de, 274, 275. 
Rupert, Prince, 18, 19, 70-72, 236, 331, 359, 

360. 
Ruvigny, Marquis de, 177, 178, 205, 206, 220, 

263, 260, 270, 281. 
Ruyter, Admiral de, 202, 204, 235. 



Sabl6, Madame de, 189, 219. 

Sabran, M. de, 3. 

Sacy, M. de, 188, 189. 

Saint-Aignan, Due de, 129, 199. 

St-Albans, Lord Jermyn, Earl of, 14, 21, 39, 

59, 76, 120, 175, 219, 220, 227, 237, 25s, 282, 

287, 295, 296, 313, 382. 



4o6 



INDEX. 



Saint-Chaumont, Madame de, 106,239, 252-254, 

302, 304-306, 308, 310, 315, 318, 325,327, 328, 
. 337. 338, 343- 
iraint-Cloud, 63, 64, 93, 94, 118, 141, 142, 157, 

186, 187, 226, 238, 243, 244, 294, 296, 298, 

299. 337, 339. 340. 344. 347-352. 358. 379, 

385, 386, 390. 
Saint-Cyr, 397. 
Saint-Cyran, M. de, 189. 
Saint-Denis, 219, 226, 241, 300, 304, 379, 381- 

383, 386, 
Saint-Jean-de-Luz, 47, 48. 
Saint-Germain, Foire de, 134, 135. 
Saint-Germain des Pres, 134. 
Saint-Germain I'Auxerrois, 84, 85. 
Saint-Germain, Chateau de, 14, 17, 19,22, 82, 

ng, 150, 212, 2ig, 228, 230, 239, 242, 252, 

294, 296, 299, 306, 308, 309, 312, 314, 316-318, 
^ 322, 335, 336, 342, 358. 
Saint-Laurens, M. de, 256, 257, 378. 
Saint-Quentin, 32S. 
Saint-Simon, 99, 130, 368-369, 395. 
Salisbury, 218, 219, 223. 
Sandwich, Earl of, 81, 207, 263. 
Savile, Sir George, 235. 
Savoy, Duchess of, 46, 47. 
Savoy, Princess Margaret of, 46, 47. 
Saxe- Weimar, Bernard, Duke of, 91. 
Scudery, Madame de, 91, ig6, 375. 
Scudery, Mile, de, 189. 

Seine, 25,92, 03. 119, 141, 142, 207, 339, 379. 
Sevigni£, ^ladame de, 33, 91, 106, 131, 143, 

184, 188, 189, 294, 213, 231, 240, 243,375-377, 

382, 389, 395, 397. 
Silvius, 200. 

Soissons, Comtede, 46, 70, 71, 74-76, 183. 
Soissons, Olympia Mancini, Conitesse de, 35, 

46, 122, 143, 144, 162, 165, 182,' 183, 185, 203, 

^ 348, 397- 

Somerset House, 80, 160, 169. 

Sophia, Electress of Hanover, 396. 

Southampton, Earl of, 177. 

Spithead, 119. 

Strawberry Hill Collection, 391, 394. 

Sufifolk, Lady, 394. 



T. 



Tangier, 160. 

Temple, Sir William, 235, 255, 330, 360. 
Thames, 72, 213, 219, 220. 
Titian, 297. 
Toll, Thomas, 74. 
Tournay, 243, 331. 
Trimouille, Madame de la, 70, 107. 
Trimouille, Mile, de la, 81, 91. 
Tr(5ville, M. de, 188, 189, 349, 350, 353, 368, 
374- 



Trevor, Sir John, 132, 133, 256, 258, 259, 260, 

262, 265, 266, 268. 
Trocadero, 25. 
Tuileries, 22-24, 39. 9°. 92. 109. 113. 114. '17. 

118. 
Turenne, Mar^chal de, 153, 187, 188, 213, 235, 

245, 279. 305, 3'o. 3". 317. 332, 349. 374- 
Tuscany, Grand Duke of, 62, 90, 264. 



Val-oe-Grace, Abbey of, 115, 226, 241, 322, 

379. 389- 
Vallot, M., 205, 297, 347, 348, 371. 
Valois, Due de, 164-166, 168, 201, 239, 241,243, 

306, 340, 347. 
Valois, Mile, de, 49, 85, 128, 135. 
Vandyke, i, 297. 
Vardes, Marquis de, 143, 144, 165, 166, 181-183, 

185, 200-203. 
Veriieuil, Due de, 202, 208, 210, 218. 
Vernon, Francis, 305, 309, 314, 315, 336, 337, 

373.. 374. 383, 384- 
Versailles, 156, 169, 219, 242, 249, 265, 367, 268, 

336, 365. 366, 380, 389. 
Victor Amadeus II., Duke of Savoy, 397. 
Villeroy, Marquis de, 319, 324. 
Villers-Cotterets, 64, 146, 168, 169, 225, 245, 

308-315, 323. 
Vincennes, 83, 141, 146, 168, 235-273. 
Vivonne, M. de, 127, 128. 



W. 



WAi-Liiu, Edmund, 14, 15, 334, 335. 

Walpole, Horace, 391. 

Walters, Lucy, 394. 

Watteville, Baron de, no, in. 

Whitehall, 57, 72, 73, 75-77, 80, 112, 213, 227, 

251. 258.. 359- 
Winton, Sir John, 4, 5. 
Witt, Jean de, 159. 



York, Anne Hvde, Duchess of, 38, 67, 80, 
207, 325, 331, 333. 393- 

York, James, Duke of, 22, 25, 28-30, 34, 38, 44, 
48. 50. 56. 67. 71. 72. 75. 79. 80, III, 208, 212, 
215, 216, 276, 282, 284, 313, 324, 331, 333, 335. 

Yvelin, M., 295, 339,347. 



ZOCCOLI, PfeRE, 307, 351. 



THE END. 



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