The Sun King (8 page)

As well as the gambling there were plays, concerts and dances. The King was devoted to music and seldom without any — a band or orchestra was generally playing within his earshot; he woke up to the sound of a band in the courtyard. On summer nights he and his friends would go on the canal in gondolas, followed by Lully and his fiddlers on a sort of floating platform. These gondolas, complete with gondoliers, were sent to the King as a present from the Venetian Republic. He built a village for them, called Little Venice, on the water.

In 1679, Louis XIV with his architect Jules Mansart, began to build Marly, a small house near Versailles where he could go in order to be quiet and peaceful, taking a few friends. The château itself was large enough for him and his family and there were twelve pavilions, eleven
which housed two married couples in each and one which was kept for bathrooms. These pavilions were connected with each other and the main building by arbours of sweet-scented shrubs. The etiquette at Marly was quite different from that at Versailles and much easier. Whereas at Versailles no man but Monsieur ever sat down to dine with the King, at Marly the Dauphin and, later on, his three sons, Monsieur and his son Chartres could do so, though generally the Dauphin presided at a second table and the King had the women at his own. The men all ate together at a third. The day at Marly was spent looking at improvements in the gardens, where the King amused himself for the rest of his life turning lakes into forests and forests into lakes; the whole place was a bower of blossom. In the evening there were balls, parties, concerts, plays and, of course, gambling.

Invitations to Marly, where one lived so intimately with the King, were much sought after; he liked people to ask for one, so that when it became known that a visit there was in prospect, he would go down the Galerie des Glaces on his way to church to the sound of ‘Sire, Marly?' from many throats. In fact the same people were asked over and over again, those with whom he felt easy. As at Versailles, he gave parties in the garden before the house was ready — he slept there for the first time in 1686.

All the buildings at Marly, except one or two lodges and gardeners' houses, were destroyed after the French Revolution, but the site is still one of the most beautiful parks in the Ile de France.

In 1674 Mme Scarron began what in later life she used to call her ‘long struggle for the King's soul'. In this struggle her chief adversary was Mme de Montespan and her most powerful weapon the little Duc du Maine. He was a particularly fascinating baby who had inherited all his mother's looks and charm. Mme Scarron brought him on, taught him to read at a very early age and never punished or frightened him, so that he was confident with grown-up people. The King loved him much more than his other children and he responded naturally. It was the greatest pity that Louis never took such a fancy to the Dauphin, who was much better human material but was being ruined by a different sort of upbringing. His father, whose own schooling in practical government, with Mazarin's brilliant manoeuvres as an example, had been unique, but whose book-learning left much to be desired, was particularly anxious for the Dauphin to have a good general education. He appointed Bishop Bossuet, the greatest living manipulator of French prose, as his tutor. His governor was the Duc de Montausier. No doubt from excellent motives these two men beat the Dauphin cruelly every day at his lessons. On one occasion it was even thought that they had broken his arm. Montausier was a brute but Bossuet ought to have known better. Presumably he had no understanding whatever of children. The Dauphin was far from stupid — some of his contemporaries go as far as to say that he was a brilliant little boy — but all this punishment put him off books for ever; he became timid in society and terrified of his father; and of course this reacted on the King. As a result his natural fondness for children was concentrated on his bastards, especially on du Maine.

Mme de Montespan, for all her brilliance, was a bad psychologist. She thought that when golden curls, blue eyes and high spirits are not enough to hold a lover he must be brought back by spells; she never saw an alternative close at hand in the form of a little boy. But Mme Scarron knew nothing that links two people as much as a child — the dullest woman can hold a man, particularly if he is not very young, by talking to him about that extension of himself, his son; she saw the King every day in order to do so. He had got over the aversion he used to have for her and she was quite at her ease with him. Presently their
conversation began to include such subjects as the state of his soul. ‘Sire, you love your musketeers. Now what would you say if one of them left his wife and lived with a married women?' The King laughed. ‘I spoke to him as a Christian and as a real friend of Mme de Montespan.'

Years later she defended her behaviour in these terms:

The King's thoughts were turning towards reconciliation with the Church. Bossuet and the other great preachers of the day had been admonishing him from the pulpit for years. He put up with their criticism but he could not be said to like it. He had a great respect for God, whom he regarded as his feudal overlord, and was grateful to Him for the military successes and civilian splendours of his reign; he wanted to show his gratitude. Besides, if God became really angry He might take away what He had given. Long, interesting conversations with Mme Scarron were the order of the day.

Mme de Montespan began to be uneasy. She wanted now to get rid of her friend, not that she regarded her as a rival, but the King was spending hours with Mme Scarron when he might have been with her; the thought of their deep talks together bored her, besides, she was not at all anxious for him to become godly. However, Mme Scarron was not a nursery maid who could be given notice; she would clearly have to have an enormous reward for her services. Athénaïs thought she might like a husband. She cast about and presently found an old Duc de Villars-Brancas who, for the kind of dowry recently bestowed on Nevers, was ready to marry. Mme Scarron refused. Mme de Montespan then suggested a nunnery; the King could make her the abbess of some rich foundation. She energetically refused and the King was displeased — he
told Mme de Montespan that he had no wish for Mme Scarron to leave the Court. He had a better idea: he would give her an estate and a title. A large and beautiful château near Chartres was purchased, Mme Scarron took its name and was henceforth known as the Marquise de Maintenon.

Mme de Maintenon kept Bossuet informed of the King's new frame of mind and he now brought up all his ammunition. The year 1675 was a jubilee of the Church and the priests were anxious that Louis should go to his Easter duties for once. Bourdaloue came to Court to preach the Lenten sermons; of all the divines he had the most influence over a congregation. His sermons were noted for their length (women who were not certain of being able to hold out for the necessary hours used to arrive at the chapel with a small china receptacle which they concealed under their skirts and which was called a Bourdalou) but this did not put people off them; they were profound, solidly composed and delivered at enormous speed; intensely stirring. Maréchal de Gramont was so much affected during one of them that he burst out with: ‘
Mordieu
, he is quite right', upon which Madame gave a huge guffaw, Bourdaloue lost his place and all was confusion. He did not mince his words during this Lent; he said right out that the King must give an example; he even spoke of debauchery. The courtiers trembled; Louis appeared to be unmoved.

But when Easter came he sent Mme de Montespan to her house at Clagny. Both he and she confessed and communicated. When he went off to join the army without saying good-bye to Athénaïs, everybody thought the love affair was over.

Mme de Montespan took the whole thing very calmly. She was no longer irked by the presence of Mme de Maintenon, who was at a watering place in the south with du Maine. The little boy had a half paralysed leg, shorter than the other, which seemed to be getting worse. The doctors tortured him for years during his childhood, pulling the short leg with a sort of rack until it was longer than the good one and very weak; he bore everything with courage and patience. Mme de Maintenon devoted herself to him, she was determined that he should be cured and in the end he was, more or less, though he always limped. During their tour he was received by the provincial notables and common people exactly as if he had been a legitimate prince of France, with wild enthusiasm.

Meanwhile his mother was enjoying herself at Clagny, where there were still twelve hundred workmen, inside and out, who greatly diverted her; she spent a good deal of time at Saint-Cloud, playing cards with Monsieur, and went for a while to take the waters at Bourbon. The Queen paid her a visit at Clagny: she went all over the house and gardens, inspected the nursery, where Vexin lay ill (he was delicate and died at the age of twelve), expressed the greatest interest in everything she saw and spent an hour alone with Athénaïs in her room. She was not
the only visitor; Bossuet often called on Mme de Montespan. She treated this awe-inspiring man in a most lively way; carrying the war into the enemy's camp and accusing him of wanting to reform the King out of spiritual pride. When he did not bother to defend himself she made violent scenes; then she put on charm and finally tried bribery, holding out hopes of great ecclesiastical honours. Of course none of this had the slightest effect; she cannot really have expected to get round Bossuet. She had to find some other way of winning her cause.

Mme Voisin also went to Clagny, with some constructive suggestions. She sent to Normandy for the receipts of a certain Galet, who trafficked in all sorts of interesting drugs such as love philtres and
poudres à héritage
, a kind of medicine for disposing of old, unwanted rich relations. Rivals in love were also dealt with by M. Galet. Mme de Montespan's case was rather special since there seemed to be no rival; the issue was between God and Satan. If she really had Black Masses celebrated on her account it was now that she began; she certainly tried more spells. Several different love philtres, in the form of powder, a black, a white and a grey, were delivered to her at Clagny.

At last the King returned from the front. Bossuet, who had heard certain disturbing rumours, went, religious grief written all over his face, to meet him on the road, only to hear from his own lips that Mme de Montespan's rooms at Versailles were indeed being prepared for her. The Bishop was not much reassured when Louis added something about living together in Christian chastity. In fact, the desires of a returning warrior, excited by Galet's splendid powders, soon undid the work of Mme de Maintenon and the divines. The King arranged to meet Athénaïs in the presence of respectable, elderly women of the Court, who were to witness the transformation of love into friendship. The two former lovers began by exchanging a few platitudes for all to hear, but then they went over to a window embrasure, away from the crowd. They were both seen to be crying. Suddenly he led her to the door of her bedroom; they bowed to the company and disappeared. After that, everything was perfect, though the King, for some unaccountable reason, began to have appalling headaches.

On 29 July 1676, Mme de Sévigné spent a day at Versailles and wrote an account of it to her daughter, Mme de Grignan. She went down with the Villars: first they assisted at the Queen's toilette; went to Mass and then watched the royal dinner. At three o'clock everybody assembled in the Grand Appartement. The King, the Queen, Monsieur and Madame with Monsieur's eldest daughter, Mme de Montespan and her people, all the courtiers, all the ladies — in other words, the Court of France — were in these beautiful rooms. It was not the least bit too hot; you wandered about as you liked, no feeling of being crowded. The King was with Mme de Montespan who was taking cards; the Queen, at her own table, had Monsieur, Mme de Soubise, Dangeau and Co., Langlée and Co., all playing with gold
louis
and no counters — a
thousand
louis
were on the table. Dangeau let Mme de Sévigné sit by him so that she was very comfortable and she watched him and saw how badly everybody else played compared to him. He never looked up from the game — was completely concentrated — never missed a trick or let the smallest opportunity escape him, so that luck or no luck he couldn't help winning — the proof was that he had been credited in the book with ten thousand
louis
in ten days.

Mme de Sévigné curtseyed to the King in the way Mme de Grignan had shown her — had she been young and pretty he could not have responded more kindly. The Queen asked how she was after her illness and talked about it at length with as much interest as if it had been childbirth. In fact everybody had a kind word for her.