by Jean Plaidy
The valet ran from the King’s apartment. It had happened at last. Now the fun would start. This would be but the beginning. Tomorrow the whole Court would be seething with the news.
Who? pondered the valet. That was important.
He wanted advice – the advice of Cardinal Fleury or Monsieur de Richelieu. But there was no time. The King was in no mood for delay. The King had changed; never had he been as he was tonight. He was angry, and the valet must act with speed.
The first likely woman he saw was one of the waiting-women of the Princesse de Rohan.
He stopped her. He said: ‘Will you spend the night with the King?’
She stared at him. ‘Are you quite well?’ she asked.
‘Quite, and there is no time to waste. The King is furious with the Queen. He wants you to take her place . . .’
‘Only for tonight?’ she said; and her eyes glistened. The King was handsome; and the possibilities were endless.
‘That rests with you,’ said the valet.
She threw back her head and laughed suddenly.
‘Take me to him.’
The valet wondered what he would find when he returned to the royal bedchamber. Would Louis have become more sober? Would he have to get himself and the young woman out of a delicate situation?
He need not have worried. When he returned, the King was impatiently waiting – a strange new King full of fire and passion, a King who was weary of playing the faithful husband to a woman who was too concerned with saints’ days.
The next day there was great excitement throughout the Court. The old era was over; a new one was about to begin. Richelieu, Clermont, Mademoiselle de Charolais might be amused; the King’s ministers – Fleury at the head of them – were deeply concerned.
This was no time to stand quietly by, letting matters take their course.
The young lady of last night’s adventure was unlikely to be of any importance. She was not exceptionally beautiful or clever, and the very manner of her coming to the King’s bedchamber would make it difficult for her to be the participant in anything but the lightest love affair.
She gave no concern. But it was quite clear that very soon there would be someone who could have a great influence on the King.
There were two rival circles of the Court, one of them, known as the Chantilly circle which had its headquarters at the home of the Bourbons and of which Mademoiselle de Charolais, the Duc de Bourbon’s daughter, was the leading spirit, and the other, that of Rambouillet which was presided over by the Comte and Comtesse de Toulouse.
The more respectable of these two groups was that of Rambouillet, and it was in this circle that Fleury proposed to look for the woman who should be the King’s new mistress.
The Comte de Toulouse was the illegitimate son of Louis Quatorze and Madame de Montespan, and therefore a kinsman of the King; and it was with his Comtesse that Fleury decided to discuss this matter of providing a mistress for the King. He therefore asked the Comtesse to visit him, which she promptly did, guessing the nature of the matter he had to discuss with her.
Madame de Toulouse was only too glad to be of assistance. For if the King’s mistress were a friend of hers, she would lose nothing by the connexion.
Fleury bowed over her hand and begged her to be seated. He then came straight to the point.
‘You are aware, Madame,’ he said, ‘of this rift between their Majesties?’
‘Yes, Monsieur le Cardinal. Who is not?’
‘It was inevitable. The Queen has many good qualities but she lacks some of those which are necessary to a man such as the King.’
‘It is true,’ said the Comtesse. ‘In the first place she is six or seven years his senior. That is not good. Some women might have seemed nearer his age, but she, who is always wrapped round with shawls and has no sense of elegance . . .’ The Comtesse lifted her shoulders. ‘Poor lady – she is for ever pregnant, and that is not conducive to elegance, I fear.’
Fleury went on: ‘Her good deeds are numerous. Her friends are virtuous.’
‘But so dull,’ murmured the Comtesse.
She smiled, thinking of the Queen’s efforts to attain culture – her singing, her playing on the harpsichord, her painting. She excelled in none of these pursuits and the courtiers inwardly groaned when asked to hear her sing and play or were given one of her pictures which they must praise enthusiastically and place in a prominent position in their apartments lest it should come to the Queen’s ears that they did not appreciate her efforts.
‘It is natural,’ added Fleury.
‘And I marvel that it did not happen before.’
‘The King will shortly settle his affections on some woman other than his wife, I fear,’ said Fleury. ‘And when that happens it will be well for us all that she should be the right woman.’
‘Indeed yes,’ agreed the Comtesse.
‘I would wish,’ went on the Cardinal, ‘that she should be modest. It would be painful if she sought great favours for herself and her family. For that reason I would not wish her to be a member of a house of high nobility.’
The Comtesse’s eyebrows were raised in surprise. ‘Your Eminence would not introduce a woman of the lower classes to the King’s bed!’
‘Oh, no, that would be unthinkable. What we need is a woman who has charm, is of the nobility but not the haute noblesse, you understand. She must be discreet, glad to serve the King in this capacity and not ask too much in return.’
‘I will be frank,’ said the Comtesse. ‘I anticipated this call and I have already given the matter much thought.’
‘You have a suggestion?’
‘I have. I am thinking of the eldest daughter of the Nesle family, Louise-Julie. She is married to the Comte de Mailly. He is very poor and could be persuaded to stand aside, I doubt not. Louise-Julie is a pleasant creature. I would not call her beautiful, but she has great charm.’
‘The Nesle family,’ interrupted the Cardinal, his eyes sparkling. ‘I see that you have understood perfectly, Madame. But is not Madame de Mailly one of the Queen’s own ladies?’
‘It is true, but is that important? Kings have chosen their mistresses from their wives’ circles before this; and in any case, if she were not already one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting, she would very soon wish to be so.’
The Cardinal nodded. ‘We will see what happens with Madame de Mailly. First we must bring the King to a receptive mood. I do not think it will be difficult. He is incensed with the Queen’s rebuffs, and his pride is hurt. I think at this stage we should call in the help of one of his close friends. I am sure the Duc de Richelieu would be only too delighted to help. I know he has long been trying to lure the King to unfaithfulness. I will send for him now, and we will put this project before him.’
When the Duc de Richelieu heard the plans of the Cardinal and the Comtesse he was much amused.
‘I approve,’ he said. ‘I approve with all my heart. If we do not do something for our beloved Louis he will become as dull as his Queen. We shall have him walking about the Court muffled in shawls, painting – Oh, God, preserve us from that! – playing the harpsichord and telling us that Madame Adelaide has taken three tottering steps, or has learned to say “Your Majesty”. No, something must be done.’
He gave them the benefit of his sardonic grin.
‘Madame de Mailly? H’m. Charming. She has such delightful legs. One of those women who have been given subtler gifts than beauty. Madame de Mailly would be ideal . . . for a start.’
‘Then I pray you,’ said the Cardinal, ‘prepare His Majesty to meet the lady. You could explain better than most . . .’
‘The delights of love!’ cried Richelieu. ‘But it is natural, is it not, that I, a sinner, should give a better account of them than a man of Holy Church.’
The Cardinal was too pleased with the plan to be irritated. Madame de Mailly would be an ideal mistress. He was certain that she would not only keep her fingers out of the great state pie, but prevent t
he King from dipping his into it also.
Richelieu winked lewdly at the Cardinal. ‘Leave His Majesty to me,’ he said. ‘The task of luring him from the virtuous paths of matrimony shall begin without delay.’
The King’s three principal valets de chambre, Bachelier, Le Bel and Barjac, were excited. Life had been a little dull. It was not very amusing to conduct the King to the Queen’s bedchamber every night, place the sword close to the bed, take the King’s dressing gown and slippers and come quietly back to the royal bedchamber to wait the return journey next morning and the conducting of the King back to the state bedroom for the ceremonial lever.
Now there would be more exciting times ahead; and if the King were going to develop a taste for women other than the Queen, the duties of the valets de chambre could become not only more interesting but more profitable.
Madame de Mailly, when approached by the Comtesse de Toulouse, was excited.
She had no love for her husband, her cousin, the mercenary Comte de Mailly who was continuously bewailing his poverty; moreover she had always greatly admired the King. She and Louis were both in their twenty-third year and she, in common with most, had always considered the King the most handsome man at Court.
A meeting was arranged between them, and Bachelier took Madame de Mailly to the King’s apartment; but when they were alone together they were both overcome by shyness.
Louis had up to this time never been at ease with women. The efforts, first of Villeroi and later of Fleury, to keep him innocent had had this effect on him which, even though he was a deeply sensual man, made it difficult for him to deal with a situation such as he now faced.
Madame de Mailly, who was by no means inexperienced, was half in love with the King, and for this reason found herself embarrassed. She could have wished that they had met at one of the gatherings at Rambouillet and become attracted to each other. That she had been brought to the King’s apartments by his valet added to her embarrassment.
She, who was noted for her vivacity and kindly wit, found herself tongue-tied. The King, unable to banish from his mind the erotic images which the conversation of the rake, Richelieu, had put there, was equally unable to make adequate conversation.
They were cool and polite with each other and the meeting was a failure.
She left the King, certain that she would never be sent for again.
Louis was not eager to grant her another private interview, and those who had planned for him were afraid that soon he would be the prey of any scheming woman who sought to rule France through him.
Madame de Mailly was severely talked to by her promoters. Doubtless she had behaved like a prim young virgin. Did she not realise that the King was in revolt against the primness of the Queen? She must greet him with voluptuous looks. She must not enter and curtsey. Let her be lying on a couch, say en déshabillé; her most attractive feature was her legs, which all admitted were the best at Court. Let her make the most of her charms. Would she try again?
She was eager to do so. All that remained was to persuade Louis to meet her once more. This was difficult but, when it was pointed out to the good-natured young man that if he did not see her, poor Madame de Mailly would be brokenhearted, he gave way.
His surprise was intense when he entered the intimate apartment to find her already there. He could only stand and stare at the half-nude young woman who was smiling at him seductively from the couch.
For a moment he was prepared to turn and escape; but Bachelier was behind him, and he did not want the valet to witness his embarrassment.
‘The lady awaits Your Majesty,’ said Bachelier, and in the excitement of the moment gave Louis a push which sent him reeling forward.
Madame de Mailly held out her arms and caught Louis in them, while Bachelier gently closed the door.
The seduction of the King was thus effected, and Fleury sighed with relief. He was now free to deal with state matters.
But first he presented the Comte de Mailly with 20,000 livres – his reward as a complaisant husband. Fleury was eager also that the affair should be conducted with as much secrecy as was possible. Versailles of course could not but be aware that the King had a mistress, but he did not wish the people of France to know of the King’s lapse.
At this time he was adored by his subjects; and although the squat and rather heavy Queen did not appeal to them as did their handsome King, they were ready to concede that she was a good Queen who had done her duty to the state. The people liked to think of their Louis as a sedate young man, eager to do his duty, a worthy husband and father – for all that he was handsome and looked god-like in his robes of state.
There could not have been a better choice, thought Fleury, for Madame de Mailly was a kindly woman, one who seemed content with the King’s affection, not seeking honours for herself.
After the awkward beginning Louis became more and more interested in Louise-Julie de Mailly. The Queen had never joined him in his ecstasy as this woman did. It was like learning new lessons, each more delight-giving than the last.
To him his mistress was the most beautiful woman at the Court as, in the first few days of his marriage, the Queen had been. She was tall and very slender; her only beauties were her large dark eyes and the legs for which she was already famous. Her complexion was sallow, her features irregular; but she was very charming because of a particularly sweet nature.
Louis had been fortunate. She did not seek honours. Very quickly she had fallen in love with the King and she declared that merely to be with him was reward enough for her.
The King was enchanted, for she was ready at any time to lead him into thickets of sensuality which he had never dreamed existed.
She gave herself no airs about the Court and was always extremely respectful to the Queen. The liaison was ideal and the King and Louise-Julie de Mailly believed it would go on all their lives.
Marie bore another daughter that year; this was Victoire.
The King did not altogether neglect his wife, nor forget the need to add to the royal nurseries. Almost immediately after the birth of Victoire, the Queen was once more pregnant. Marie had grown more bitter, and declared fretfully that her life was little more than going to bed and being brought to bed.
Meanwhile the King and Madame de Mailly fell deeper in love. It was she who was present at all the hunting parties and rode beside him; who sat with him at intimate suppers he gave to his friends.
It seemed now that the King would be as faithful a lover as he had been a husband.
Chapter VI
MADAME DE VINTIMILLE
In the last four years the Queen had become resigned to the King’s infatuation for Madame de Mailly; she realised that, since she must accept his having a mistress of some sort, there could not have been one who made less trouble.
She had her children. Sophie had been born in 1734, Thérèse-Félicité in 1736, and Louise-Marie had just made her appearance. Ten children in ten years; no one could ask more of a Queen than that.
There might be no more. Even for the sake of getting another boy (out of the eight surviving children seven were girls) Louis rarely visited her at night.
There were many who thought she was to blame. But she was worn out with the exhausting business of child-bearing, and her doctors had warned her that she should take a rest from it. When Louis did come she prayed by her bed-side in the hope that he would fall asleep before she had finished her prayers; which he often did. Abstention on saints’ days was a great help; and the visits grew more and more rare since Madame de Mailly was always waiting for him.
Marie had now made her own way of life; and her own little court was apart from that of the King. Her day was planned to a calm and sedate pattern. In the morning she attended prayers and studied theological books; after that there would be a formal visit to the King; then she would paint, because it gave her great pleasure to present her pictures to her friends. She attended Mass and then went to dinner. This she took with her ladies, most of
whom had tastes similar to her own. After that she would retire to her room to work on her tapestry or play the harpsichord. Then she would read quietly by herself until it was time for the household to assemble for cards. Sometimes she would visit the apartments of friends; but it was understood that the conversation in her presence must never include scandal. She had grown very religious and gave extensively to charities. Her great indulgence was the table; and her figure, because of this and the continual child-bearing, had grown more stocky; and as she had little interest in the fashions of the day, she did nothing to improve this. Many of the courtiers dreaded an invitation to her evening parties; their great fear was that they would be unable to hide their yawns or, worse still, fall asleep.
How different it was to be invited to join the King! Indeed it was considered a very great honour to receive such an invitation, for Louis, who had always wanted to live privately and enjoy the company of a few intimate friends, had had the petits cabinets constructed. They were under the roofs of the Palace, built round that small courtyard, the Cour des Cerfs, and were a series of small rooms joined together by winding staircases and small galleries.
A great deal of care had gone into the construction of these little rooms, for Louis was discovering that great passion for architecture which he had inherited from his great-grandfather.
Exquisitely carved were the panels, and the walls had been treated to look as though they were made of porcelain. Louis had greatly enjoyed planning these rooms, and they were extremely graceful, with nothing flamboyant about them. The decorations were delicate scrolls and sprays of flowers.
The petits cabinets were like a miniature palace, aloof from the great one. Here Louis had his bedroom, his libraries, and – the most important room of all, for this was that in which he entertained his friends – the salle à manger. So fascinated had he become by these little apartments that he could not resist adding to them; he now had his workshop; he was very interested in working in ivory; he had his own bakery and still rooms, for he had retained his early interest in cooking. It was his great pleasure to summon experts to these rooms and take lessons from them.
