Louis the Well-Beloved (44 page)

Louis was sorry for Anne-Henriette. The poor creature had become very melancholy once more. He decided that, as he had on two occasions been obliged to deny her the man she wished to marry, he would make a great effort to bring her back to happiness.

He often summoned her to his apartments where they would drink coffee, which he prepared himself. He would take her round his workshop and show her his ivories, then to the still-rooms that she might taste his concoctions.

‘You are growing up fast,’ he told her. ‘You shall have your own household.’

Since he exerted all his charm, Anne-Henriette quickly succumbed to it, and father and daughter were so much together that it began to be said that the King cared more for his daughter than for Madame de Pompadour.

For many years there had been in France a conflict between the Jansenites and the Jesuits. The Jansenites took their name from their founder, Cornelius Jansen, the Dutch theologian who had protested vehemently against the love of comfort which was prevalent among high officials of the Catholic Church. The followers of this creed were stern men who sought to bring austerity back to religion; but under cover of Jansenism certain groups in France had made an effort to strike at the Church. These men did not concern themselves with Augustinian theories; they were anxious to make France independent of Rome. It was another phase of the struggle for supremacy between the State and the Papacy; thus the dispute lay between the Jesuits and Rome on one side, and the
Parlements
and those who wished to see the state supreme on the other.

As long ago as 1713, Clement XI had denounced Jansenism in his Bull
Unigenitus;
and there was now a party in France which sought to maintain the power of the Jesuits.

To this party the Dauphin had given his support; he had become very devout and in this was joined by the Dauphine, for whom he was beginning to have an affection which almost equalled that which he had felt for his first wife. The Queen also supported the Jesuits.

Louis himself was not very pleased with the clergy. Quite recently the Bishop of Soissons had taken it upon himself to reproach him for his association with Madame de Pompadour.

He had dared to write to Louis deploring the fact that the nation expressed no horror when the sin of adultery was committed. ‘If,’ wrote the Bishop, ‘Your Majesty were a private person in my diocese I should feel it my duty to deliver a public rebuke. I now ask Your Majesty to remember your repentance when you believed yourself to be on your deathbed at Metz. Then you swore to mend your ways. But God gave you back your life, and what has happened? You have taken as mistress the wife of one of your subjects.’

Louis, reminded of the nearness of death which he believed he had faced many times, might have been impressed, but the Bishop had spoilt the effect of his little homily by his next words.

‘Now we see at Court in the highest of all ranks, a person of the lower class, a woman without breeding or birth, who has been elevated in the name of debauchery.’

Louis was angry with the Bishop then, and when he compared his Marquise with any of the Court ladies he could assure himself that the Bishop talked nonsense. No, the King was definitely not pleased with the clergy.

As for Madame de Pompadour, she was terrified of that body. Those men who were always exhorting kings to repent were a menace to the kings’ mistresses. Repentance meant returning to the pious life, and that could only mean dismissal from Court for such as she was.

Therefore the Jesuits could expect no friendship from her. And as her ascendancy over the King was becoming more and more apparent, a party began to gather about the Dauphin, the object being to strengthen the clergy and the Jesuits, and eventually to oust the mistress from the Court.

And since Anne-Henriette was so favoured by the King, she found that she was invited to the Dauphin’s apartments and there courted and honoured by his friends.

Anne-Henriette was a little bewildered; but these attentions did prevent her brooding on the scandalous behaviour of Charles Edward, who was now deep in a tempestuous love affair with the forty-year-old Princesse de Talmond.

Madame de Pompadour was perpetually watchful. Life was exhausting but highly enjoyable. Louis was delighted to find that she shared his interest in architecture, and many a happy hour was spent discussing plans for embellishing and altering existing buildings or acquiring new ones.

She had made Crécy an enchanting place, the King told her, and he promised to build a house especially for her.

It would be so interesting not to buy something which was already in existence but to construct it together from the beginning. She had already bought the Hôtel d’Evreux in Paris, and she and the King, driving together one day, discovered the ideal spot overlooking the Seine between Meudon and Sèvres.

‘This is the place,’ declared Louis. ‘What a beautiful view you will have from your windows!’

‘Your Majesty has given the name to my house: “Bellevue”.’

‘Bellevue let it be.’

It was wonderful to shut themselves away from everyone and draw up plans for the house. It brought them so close together.

‘We will use Lassurance as architect,’ said Louis. ‘I cannot think of a better.’

‘I also want Verberckt.’

‘His work is exquisite.’

‘I think we ought to call in Boucher for the ceilings.’

‘A great artist.’

And the cost? It never occurred to either of them to think of it. Louis had been accustomed to decide something should be done and the treasury provided the means to do it. As for the Marquise, although she kept her accounts with accuracy, she had always believed that the wealth of Kings was limitless.

While they planned the house and often drove out to Bellevue to see how the workmen were progressing, she thought a great deal about the King’s new friendship with Anne-Henriette. She was aware, for her friends had pointed this out to her, that the Princesse was being drawn into politics by her brother and the Jesuit party.

It had always been the policy of Madame de Pompadour to persuade Louis, never to cajole or threaten as Mesdames Vintimille and Châteauroux had done. Her plan always was to soothe the King, to be the person to whom he came for comfort of any sort. She believed – and rightly so – that the way to hold her position was never to place Louis in embarrassing situations.

Never had she reproached him for neglecting her for Anne-Henriette. She would not draw attention to the subversive nature of those gatherings in the apartments of the Dauphin and Dauphine.

It occurred to her however that, if one of the other daughters were brought to Versailles, Louis’ attention might be diverted from Anne-Henriette.

She had made inquiries as to the character and appearance of the next daughter, Victoire, who was now about fifteen or sixteen. She was pretty, but hardly of a nature to charm the King to any great extent.

So the Marquise said to the King: ‘Louis, it must be a long time since you saw your little daughters.’

‘A very long time.’

‘Are you going to leave them in that convent for ever?’

‘They have not yet completed their education.’

‘But Madame Victoire is only a year younger than Madame Adelaide. I know how delightful it is to have daughters. I have my own little Alexandrine, you remember.’

‘That dear child,’ said Louis. ‘The-not-so-pretty one. We must make a match for her one day. But what are you saying of Victoire?’

‘I was wondering whether you would not like to have her join her sisters here at Versailles.’

Louis was thoughtful for a moment. It would be rather pleasant to have another adoring daughter at Court.

So Victoire returned to Versailles.

Grand apartments were prepared for her, and the King was at first delighted with his daughter.

Victoire however was not gay by nature and, as soon as she arrived at Versailles, Adelaide decided that she would look after her.

She went to her apartments and when she found they were so grand she was jealous. She studied her sister, who was inclined to be, Adelaide quickly discovered, of an extremely lethargic disposition.

‘We shall go for a walk in the gardens,’ Adelaide declared.

‘I like it here,’ said Victoire.

‘I like it in the gardens. Come, we do not sit about all day at Versailles.’

‘Why do you not? It is very pleasant.’

Adelaide smiled at her sister. There was really no need to be jealous of
her
. The King was merely interested in her because she was the latest arrival. Adelaide was amused to remember that this sister of hers had been for ten years in Fontevrault, as she herself might have been but for her own resourcefulness. She derived great pleasure from Victoire’s society because she could constantly remind herself of what she had escaped.

‘Come,’ commanded Adelaide, and already such power had she over the lazy Victoire that the young girl obeyed.

As they walked together, Victoire was commanded to tell Adelaide about the convent. What were the nuns like? What clothes did they wear? Was it hideously boring, and was she not beside herself with delight to be back at Versailles?

Victoire explained and agreed.

‘You need to be looked after. There are pitfalls at Versailles. It would be a scandal if you offended against Etiquette.’

‘What would happen?’ asked Victoire idly.

‘You would no doubt be sent back to Fontevrault. But do not be afraid. I will always help you. What are Sophie and Louise-Marie like?’

‘Sophie never says anything if she can help it. She is always afraid to.’

‘Afraid? Of what?’

‘Oh life, I suppose.’

‘When Sophie comes home I shall look after her.’

‘But you are going to look after
me.’

‘I shall look after you both. I will tell you something.
I
am the most important person at Versailles.’

‘You . . . but what of our father? What of the Queen? What of the Marquise?’

‘The Queen counts for nothing. The Marquise is always afraid of losing her position. As for our father, he loves me so dearly that he will do all I say. Now you are here I shall let you join in my plan.’

‘What plan?’

‘Having the Marquise dismissed from Court.’

‘But the King would never allow that.’

Adelaide laughed and looked wise. ‘You will see. There are many plots at Versailles, but mine is the best. Anne-Henriette and the Dauphin and the Dauphine have a plot too. It is not as good as mine.’

‘What is yours?’

Adelaide put her fingers to her lips. ‘When you have proved yourself worthy, I may let you into my secrets. If Sophie is so stupid, there is no point in my pleading for her to be brought back, is there?’

Victoire nodded her agreement.

‘What of our younger sister?’

‘She is not stupid. She talks a great deal and always wants her own way. She says that as she has a hump on her back she must have some compensation. So she is going to live exactly as she wants to.’

‘Oh,’ said Adelaide. She did not add that she was even less inclined to plead for the return of Louise-Marie than she was for that of Sophie. She took Victoire by the arm and put her face close to hers.

‘Have no fear. I am at hand to look after you.’

Victoire nodded; she was thinking of being alone in her apartment, lying down on her bed and going to sleep. After dinner of course. She wanted her dinner badly.

‘You and I are allies,’ Adelaide told her. ‘You understand?’

Victoire did understand. She began to follow Adelaide about the Palace in a respectful silence.

The Court was amused by the lazy, docile Victoire, who had become like a slave to domineering Adelaide.

As for the King, he was no longer enamoured of this newly arrived daughter whose education seemed to have been somewhat neglected at Fontevrault.

He was disturbed by the Dauphin’s attempt to dabble in politics, and in order to avoid the unpleasant, avoided his son. He began to see that it was far more interesting to spend his time with the vivacious and intelligent Marquise than with the members of his family.

Moreover this growing interest in architecture, which they so enthusiastically shared, was becoming more and more absorbing. There were eight new buildings now in the course of construction or reconstruction. A delightful occupation.