Louis the Well-Beloved

Chapter IV MADAME DE PRIE AND THE DUC DE BOURBON

It was during the winter that Louis first took Marie to Marly, that delightful château which Louis XIV had built between Versailles and Saint Germain.

Marie was delighted with Marly, perhaps because it was so beautiful, set among the woods with its view of the river, perhaps because at that time she was in love with life.

There was good hunting to be had in the surrounding country and each day the King and his bride rode forth, returning in the evening to cards and other entertainments.

Always in attendance were the Duc de Bourbon and Madame de Prie. The latter had been installed as the chief of Marie’s ladies-in-waiting; and it became a regular routine that whoever wished to approach the King or Queen could only do so through the good graces of Madame de Prie.

Had Louis and Marie not been so absorbed in each other they would have noticed that the Queen of the Court was not Marie, but Madame de Prie, who, while she insisted on everyone’s observing the strictest Etiquette, did no such thing herself.

She would go in and out of the Queen’s apartment without being announced. She advised the Queen not only on what to do but what to wear; and remembering her father’s advice and her own gratitude, Marie willingly accepted these suggestions.

Recklessly, during those weeks at Marly, Marie gambled at the instigation of the King. It seemed a great joke to him when counting their debts they discovered them to be 200,000 livres.

‘200,000 livres!’ cried Marie. ‘Why, it is a fortune. In the days at Wissembourg we could have lived on that for a very long time.’

That delighted Louis. He proudly told her that she need not now feel the least concerned about losing 200,000 livres. They would play as recklessly tomorrow night just to prove it.

One day she came upon three of her ladies – the Duchesses d’Epernon, de Beuiune and de Tallard – gossiping together, and noticed that when she approached they grew silent. She was naturally eager to learn all she could about the Court, and these ladies, she believed, could tell her a great deal.

‘You must not fall silent when I appear,’ she told them. ‘I like to join in the fun.’

The ladies tried to look innocent but they failed somehow and, when she insisted on hearing what they had been talking about, they told her that they had discussed the affairs of the Duc de Richelieu who was said to be one of the biggest rakes of all time. He was so very handsome.

Marie, whose upbringing at Wissembourg had been a very strict one, did not immediately grasp the nature of those adventures in which the Duc de Richelieu had apparently indulged to such a great extent.

‘We were talking about the duel which the Marquise de Nesle fought with Madame de Polignac,’ Madame de Tallard eventually explained.

‘A duel between ladies!’

‘Oh, yes. It was with pistols. You see, they were both desperately in love with the Duc de Richelieu and decided on a duel.’

‘How . . . immodest!’ said the Queen.

The Duchesse d’Epernon murmured. ‘But, Your Majesty, such things happen.’

‘I hope we shall never have anything so disgraceful happening at our Court. I shall expect all my ladies to live virtuously and in a way to be an example to all. Tell me, does this immorality exist today . . . here?’ Marie pursed her lips so that she looked very prim. ‘I must speak to Madame de Prie about it.’

The Duchesse de Bethune tried hard not to smile but did not quite achieve her intentions, and Marie was shocked into sudden suspicion. Madame de Prie and the Duc de Bourbon were very friendly. They were frequently seen in each other’s company and they did appear to be on terms of the utmost affection.

Marie said tensely: ‘What is the relationship between the Duc de Bourbon and Madame de Prie?’

‘Why, Madame, it is common knowledge that she is his mistress.’

‘But . . . Madame de Prie has a husband . . .’

Her ladies looked at her blankly.

Marie realised that there were doubtless a great many things going on at this brilliant Court of which she was in ignorance.

She was deeply shocked. Her first impulse was to send for Madame de Prie, to tell her that this disgraceful association must cease. But this concerned the Duc de Bourbon, First Minister of France, and Madamce de Prie whose power had put Marie where she was.

Marie understood then that it was necessary to adjust her principles. The relationship between those two powerful people was something she must accept, disapprove of it though she so heartily did.

Those were fateful days for Louis and Marie. Their lives lay before them and to each Fate offered at the time a choice of two ways. To each was given the opportunity to mould the destiny of France; each was too young, too inexperienced – in Louis’ case too lazy, in Marie’s case too unimaginative – to choose the path which would have led to glory.

Louis was beloved by his people. His handsome looks had won their hearts: his perfect manners enchanted them. His people looked to him to bring prosperity to the country and, because he was young and had won their affection, they did not ask of him impossibilities. They were ready to be patient. All they asked of him was that, when he was old enough to rule, he would rule them well. They asked for his consideration of their sufferings; they asked that he should use his undoubted talents to serve them.

Louis, enthralled by being a husband, eager to indulge his pleasures such as hunting and gambling, and having always relied on his governors and tutors to do the serious business of the State, was eager to escape from the people and enjoy his life. This they would forgive while he was young, but already he was growing towards an age of responsibility.

As for Marie, Louis was in love with her and ready to be guided by her. At this time, when she could give him the sexual satisfaction he desired, she could have established herself as his confidante and adviser for all time. It was true that a man of such insatiable desire as Louis was already showing signs of becoming, could not be content with one woman; an experienced woman of the world would have realised this and consolidated her position while she had an opportunity of doing so.

Marie, being ill-advised by her parents, misjudged not only her husband’s character and her own possibilities but the true quality of the men who sought to govern the King.

She believed in the shrewd cleverness of the Duc de Bourbon and bowed to his wishes and those of his mistress in every way; while she completely ignored the man for whom Louis had the greatest regard and affection, the man who the King, if not the Queen, was clever enough to see had a deeper grasp of affairs and a more altruistic attitude towards the state: Fleury the Bishop of Fréjus.

Marie knew that the Duc de Bourbon and his henchman, Pâris-Duverney, together with Madame de Prie, were seeking an opportunity to oust Fleury from his position because it was clear that he was endeavouring more and more to influence the King. For instance, it was impossible to speak to Louis alone on state matters for Fleury always made it his duty to be present.

Madame de Prie pointed out to the Queen that the King was now a husband and old enough to do without the continual attendance of his tutor. Marie declared that she believed Louis had a great affection as well as respect for Monsieur de Fleury.

Madame de Prie said: ‘His Majesty will form a habit. Monsieur de Fleury belongs to the days of his boyhood. And out of the kindness of his heart he lets him remain.’

‘The King has a kind and loyal heart,’ mused Marie complacently, for such a quality in the King gave her great contentment.

When she was next alone with the King, she discussed his Ministers with him and suddenly said: ‘Louis, how do you like Monsieur de Fleury?’

‘Very much,’ answered the King.

‘And the Duc de Bourbon?’

‘Oh . . .’ Louis shrugged his shoulders. ‘Enough.’

His tones when he spoke of the two men were so different that Marie should have recognised the wisdom of strengthening her friendship with the tutor, even if this did mean irritating the Duc de Bourbon and his mistress. But Marie had learned no diplomacy in the home of her exiled father and had little understanding of the importance of insinuation and innuendo such as that which flourished at the stylised Court of France.

Madame de Prie conceived a plan which was to result in the expulsion of Fleury from Court.

‘For,’ she said to her lover, ‘he obstructs you in every way and it is clear what that fellow is after. He is quite cunning. He plans to take your place. I shall not feel happy until Monsieur de Fleury receives his lettre de cachet.’

‘How do you plan to remove him? He has the King’s confidence, remember.’

‘By means of the Queen.’

Bourbon smiled. The schemes of his mistress never failed to astonish him.

‘You have that letter from the Cardinal de Polignac,’ went on Madame de Prie. ‘which is a direct attack against Fleury. It shows him in a very unflattering light, does it not? And there’s truth in it. The man seeks two things; to get his Cardinal’s hat and rule France. He wants to be another Cardinal Richelieu or Mazarin. That letter should be shown to the King when Fleury is not present to defend himself. You could then discuss Fleury’s ambitions with Louis, make him realise exactly what Fleury is after.’

‘But how to see Louis alone without Fleury – that’s the problem.’

‘I think,’ said Madame de Prie, ‘that our dear Queen might help us in this. After all, she owes us everything.’

‘What do you propose?’

‘That the Queen shall ask Louis to come to her apartments, and when he arrives you will be there with the letter. You will hand it to him.’

‘What if Fleury should hear of this and attempt to join us? You know he is Louis’ shadow.’

‘He will simply be refused admittance to the Queen’s apartment. She is not very fond of him, you know. She will agree readily. Does she not owe it to us?’

‘You have genius, my dear.’

‘One needs it, mon ami, first to reach a high place at this Court – then to keep it.’

Louis, having been asked by the Queen to join her in her apartments, was astonished to find the Duc de Bourbon there, and displeasure tinged his astonishment when the Duc brought a paper from his pocket which, he said, he thought the King should read.

Louis read the accusations against Fleury; they angered him for he believed them to be false, and he felt irritated because he had been lured to accept and read such a document in private. If the Duc de Bourbon had wished to present such a letter to him it should have been in the Council Chamber, when Fleury would have been present to answer any accusations against himself.

Louis rarely showed anger and he restrained that which he now felt, so he merely folded the paper and handed it back to the Duc de Bourbon.

‘Sire,’ said the Duc, ‘may I ask what you think of the sentiments expressed in the letter?’

‘Nothing,’ said the King shortly.

‘But . . . Sire . . . if these accusations are correct would you not have certain orders to give?’

Had Madame de Prie been present she would have flashed a warning glance at her lover. The Duc was suggesting that Louis was incapable of making his own decisions and should accept the advice of his ministers, as he had before his coming of age.

‘My orders are that matters remain as they are,’ retorted the King.

Bourbon’s face expressed his concern. Marie’s heart had begun to beat fast with apprehension, for the King had included her in his cold looks.

‘Your . . . Your Majesty is displeased . . . and with me?’ murmured Bourbon, unable to prevent himself from learning the worst.

‘I am,’ retorted the King.

‘Your . . . Your Majesty continues to have the greatest confidence in Monsieur de Fleury?’

‘That is so.’

The Duc was now apprehensive.

‘Sire,’ he said, ‘I would give my life to serve you. If I have done aught that is wrong I crave your pardon.’

Louis hated scenes. They distressed him. He rarely reprimanded anybody; if reprimand there had to be, he arranged that others should give it. He was annoyed that the Queen should have placed him in such a position. But rather than display his irritation with them both he walked quickly towards the door.

Marie, trembling with fear, put out a hand to touch his arm as he passed her. He pretended not to see it.

Fleury had friends at Court. There were some shrewd people who realised the affection and respect which this man had aroused in his pupil. The Duc de Bourbon and his flamboyant mistress could not, it was believed, reign supreme for ever; their reign could only last while the King was too young, too inexperienced to recognise their worthlessness.

Therefore, when Bourbon visited the Queen, and the Queen asked the King to join them, this was immediately made known to Fleury who, knowing the existence of the Polignac letter and guessing Bourbon’s project, made haste to the Queen’s apartment and demanded of her attendants to be taken to her presence.

‘Monsieur de Fleury,’ was the answer, ‘the King is with the Queen, and Monsieur le Duc is with them. Orders have been given that no one – not even yourself – is to be admitted.’

This was an insult which could not be tolerated. If the King had given such orders it was significant that Fleury would never achieve his ambition and become chief minister of France. If on the other hand – which was more likely – this was the result of one of Bourbon’s schemes to undermine the King’s friendship for his tutor behind the latter’s back, then prompt action was necessary.

Fleury, showing greater astuteness than Bourbon, reckoned that if Bourbon won, he, Fleury, would be sent from Court; therefore he could lose nothing and retain his dignity if he left of his own accord.

If on the other hand the King refused to listen to Bourbon’s slander, he would be more infuriated than ever with the Duke should Fleury go away.

So Fleury went hastily to his apartments and wrote a letter to the King in which he said that as he was locked out of His Majesty’s counsels, there appeared to be no further need for his services. He would therefore retire from Court in order to live in peace with the Sulpicians of Issy. He was leaving immediately to avoid the pain of farewell.

When this letter was brought to Louis he was dumbfounded. Fleury gone! But how could he conduct his affairs without Fleury? In all matters of importance he had relied upon the tutor.

He was alarmed. He shut himself into his apartments and wept bitterly. He raged against the Duc de Bourbon and his scheming mistress against the Queen whose folly had made this possible.

This was the first time he had felt critical towards Marie. Angrily he blamed her now. But for her foolish action in ignoring Court Etiquette, he would not have been lured into this controversy with which he did not know how to deal. He was sixteen years old, lacking in the experience which was so necessary in a situation such as this, and he feared Marie had not only allowed Bourbon to use her in his intrigues but had involved him also.

‘Stupid woman!’ he murmured; and he marvelled that he could see her as such – Marie, his Queen who, but a short while ago, had seemed perfect in his eyes.

The King could not remain locked in his apartments for long. He must make up his mind how to act and, because he was uncertain, he sent for a man whom he had come to trust; this was Monsieur de Mortemart who was First Gentleman of the bedchamber.

Louis commanded Monsieur de Mortemart to shut the door and send all attendants away as he wished to speak to him concerning a private matter.

He explained his predicament. ‘The Queen is involved,’ he said. ‘Monsieur le Duc is First Minister. Monsieur de Fleury is merely my tutor.’

‘But, Sire,’ cried Mortemart, ‘it would seem unimportant that Monsieur le Duc is First Minister and Monsieur de Fleury merely your tutor. You are the King.’

Mortemart was one of those astute courtiers who recognised the superior powers of Fleury, and was therefore ready to back the tutor against the First Minister.

‘Were you in my place, what would you do?’ asked Louis.

‘I should order Monsieur de Fleury to return at once. I should . . . I think I should, Sire, command Monsieur le Duc to write to him asking him to return.’

Louis smiled slowly. ‘And I think,’ he said, ‘that I like your advice.’

Marie was frightened. Fleury was now back at Court, and the King outwardly showed his affection for the old man while the coldness of his manner towards the Duc and his mistress was apparent.

That was not all. The King’s attitude had changed towards Marie. Often she would find him looking at her critically, as though he were discovering certain facts about her which he had not noticed before.

Marie knew that she was not beautiful; she had always understood that she was somewhat plain, before Louis had assured her to the contrary.

He still spent his nights with her, leaving the state bedroom after the ceremonial coucher, his valet de chambre carrying his sword and setting it beside the bed before he helped Louis discard dressing gown and slippers. But a change had crept into their lovemaking. Louis was still overwhelmed by the act of love; yet it was as though he had made a further discovery. It was the act itself which appealed to him; his excitement had little to do with the woman who shared in it. It was his youth, his inexperience, his sudden awakening to manhood which had deluded him.

A coldness had crept into his passion. It terrified the Queen.

Fleury would not be satisfied until he had rid the Court of his enemies. He did not wish to include the Queen among these for naturally he could not rid the Court of her. He thought her a foolish woman to cling so stupidly to the Duc de Bourbon’s faction when any sensible person would have known that it was in decline.

It was not that they had any affection for her. They were using her now as they had used her from the beginning; and she, poor fool, seemed unable to see it.

There was no need, Fleury decided, to try to ingratiate himself with the Queen. At one time he had thought she might be an influence at the Court; now it was clear that she never would be. Louis was turning from her; very shortly there would be a mistress. Fleury hoped there would not be one only. A necessary evil, he decided, but less dangerous in the plural than in the singular.

He was exerting all his efforts to oust Bourbon from Court. The time had come for him to take the helm, now that he had proof that the King was loyal to him. The sooner Bourbon, Pâris-Duverney and Madame de Prie were relegated to obscurity the better.

Marie asked the advice of the old Maréchal Villars whom she believed she could trust.

‘The king once loved me,’ she said, her voice breaking in a sob. ‘I fear he no longer does.’

The old Maréchal looked at her sadly. ‘It is clear, Madame,’ he said, ‘that the King’s feelings towards you have changed. You should not appear sullen because of this, but remember that there are many watchful women of the Court who are looking for an opportunity which could well arise out of such a situation.’

The frightened Queen could not resist the temptation to appeal to Fleury himself.

‘Madame,’ the Bishop reproved her, ‘you so clearly support those who do not please the King.’

‘You mean Monsieur le Duc and Madame de Prie?’

‘Those two and Monsieur Pâris-Duverney.’

‘But what have they done? Why should I suddenly cease to feel affection for my friends?’ wailed Marie.

‘Pâris-Duverney has lowered the value of money. His laws have made chaos in the factories. The Duc and his mistress are completely egotistical. They do not seek to bring prosperity to France but to themselves.’

‘How could I turn against them when they have been my friends?’

Fleury smiled wanly. ‘They may have been friends to you once, Madame,’ he said; ‘but they are so no longer.’

He was implying that, but for them and their selfish policy, the Queen of France would not now be Marie Leczinska. It was true, thought Marie. Her fairytale marriage had been the result of the determination of two ambitious people to seize power.

Marie laid her hand appealingly on Fleury’s arm.

‘I . . . I find the King grown cold towards me,’ she said.

Fleury looked at her, and there was a mild pity in his eyes. ‘That, Madame.’ he said, ‘I cannot change.’

There was no help from any quarter. Marie could not tell her parents what was happening to her marriage. They believed that the fairytale was going on; they believed in the ‘happy ever after’ ending. It did them no harm and much good to go on believing – for, as in the case of Fleury, they could not make Louis fall in love with her again.

The Court was waiting. They knew it could not be long delayed, for Fleury was impatient, and Louis was leaning more and more on his counsel.

The people were restive; they showed very plainly that they were dissatisfied with the rule of Monsieur le Duc and his mistress. Every day there were demonstrations in Paris. The heavy taxes must be abolished. Bread must be cheaper. On every occasion the Duc de Bourbon, his mistress, or the Minister of Finance were blamed for this state of affairs.

Suddenly the King seemed to have forgotten his enmity towards the Duc de Bourbon; he took to receiving him more frequently and in the most friendly fashion.

One summer’s day Louis decided to visit Rambouillet that he might hunt for a few days.

The carriage, which was to take him there, arrived and, as he was about to step into it, he saw the Duc de Bourbon among the courtiers.

‘You will join me at Rambouillet,’ he said to Bourbon, smiling affably. ‘Do not be late. We will expect you to supper.’

Bourbon’s face flushed with pleasure; his eyes glinted as he met those of Fleury and his other enemies. See, he seemed to be saying, you thought this was the end of me. You forget I am a Prince of the Royal House – ties of blood bind me to the King. I am not so easily dismissed.

The King’s carriage had rumbled away and Bourbon was preparing to enter his when the Duc de Charost came towards him.

‘Monsieur le Duc,’ he said, ‘I have been commanded by His Majesty to give you this.’

Bourbon stared at the paper in the other’s hand. A terrible suspicion came to him as he took it; that his suspicion was correct was clear to see when his face paled for a second before the blood rushed back into it as he read:

‘I command you, if you will avoid punishment for disobedience, to retire to Chantilly. There you must remain until I give further orders. Louis.’

This was his lettre de cachet, the dismissal from Court.

It was the first indication of Louis’ methods, of his determination to avoid unpleasantness.

Those who had seen the friendly smile he had bestowed on Bourbon before he stepped into his carriage were astonished that he could have behaved so, knowing that the worst blow which could befall an ambitious man was about to be dealt to the Duc de Bourbon.

The Queen was distressed.

Her friends dismissed from Court! She felt it would have been disloyal not to plead for them.

The King listened to her coldly. ‘Madame,’ he said, ‘you waste your time.’

‘But Louis . . . these were my friends!’

‘You have acted foolishly in giving your friendship to such people.’

‘But . . . they have been so good to me. When I first came to Court . . .’

‘When you first came to Court you were the Queen. If you had shown that dignity which your rank demanded, you would not have allowed such people to dominate you. You must understand that the Duc de Bourbon is no longer First Minister. I do not think Madame de Prie will be long at Court. And you, Marie, will listen to what Monsieur de Fréjus tells you, for he will make my wishes known to you.’

‘But Louis, surely you will make your wishes known to me.’

He smiled at her, almost tenderly, not because he felt tender towards her but because he could sense her growing hysteria.

He patted her arm. ‘All is well,’ he said. ‘We have rid the Court of those who did harm to the State. The people will be pleased that we have acted firmly.’

Marie controlled her feelings and bowed her head.

Was there no way back to that ecstatic honeymoon?

Although Fleury was not named First Minister he assumed power. His first acts were to assign Pâris-Duverney to the Bastille and banish Madame de Prie to her castle of Courbépine which was in Normandy. She went, raging against Fleury and her fate.

A Cardinal’s hat arrived from Rome for the Bishop of Fréjus – an additional honour. Fleury had proved that his waiting game had been a successful one.

The people applauded his accession to power, since the first law he made revoked the unpopular tax known as the Cinquantième. They believed that, with the dismissal of Bourbon and his mistress, prosperity would return to France; and the day on which the Duc’s retinue left for Chantilly was one of rejoicing throughout the capital.

Marie soothed the distress caused by the loss of her husband’s love, with her passion for food. Her appetite astonished everyone; she would sit at table calmly eating, for she let nothing disturb her at meals, and the amount of food she consumed was phenomenal.

There was an occasion when, after having eaten a hundred and eighty oysters and drinking a great quantity of beer, Marie suffered such acute indigestion that it was believed she had contracted a fever.

Louis had been hunting, and had reached the Palace very fatigued and hungry. After consuming a large quantity of figs, walnuts and milk, he too was taken ill.

The rumour spread through Paris. ‘The King and Queen are ill of fever. Both ill! Can it be poison?’ The King however quickly recovered; not so Marie, and her illness lasted for several days.

During that time Louis visited her and, feeling sorry to see her so wretched, he was more affectionate towards her than he had been.

Marie’s spirits rose. She believed then that now the Duc de Bourbon and Madame de Prie were safely exiled and Cardinal Fleury was making the country prosperous again, Louis might forget his disappointment in her.

While Louis was with her it was easy to believe this. Later that year the good news was spread throughout the country; the Queen was pregnant.

Fleury’s two great desires were to maintain peace and to curb the country’s expenditure. Although he was seventy-two when he came to office his vitality was amazing and he appeared to assume that he had a clear twenty years of good work before him. In the Court he was nicknamed His Eternity.

Having dismissed certain of the Duc de Bourbon’s supporters he chose his own ministers with care, the two chief of whom were Chauvelin, whom he made Keeper of the Seals and Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, and Orry, who was created Controller General of Finance. These two men stood firmly behind Fleury, and they made a formidable trio – Fleury shrewd and cautious, Chauvelin possessed of a brilliant wit and a satirical tongue, and Orry a pompous man who could subdue all but the most brave by his frowns.

Fleury knew that he could not have better men to serve him than Maurepas and Saint Florentin, and he retained these two in their respective posts.

Fleury had his enemies who, behind his back, cynically compared him with two other great Cardinals who had ruled France – Richelieu and Mazarin. What a difference! they sneered.

They recalled the magnificence of these Cardinals of the past and the manner in which Fleury lived. It was said that his petit-coucher was the most ridiculous ceremony ever witnessed at Versailles. He would enter his cabinet, about which assembled all those who hoped for favours from the most powerful man in France, and take off his clothes himself; he then folded them as though he must take the utmost care of these simple garments; then he put on his old dressing gown and slowly combed his white hair (he did not possess more than four hairs, said the courtiers) while he chatted with those who had come to see him.

He kept a free table, which was necessary to his position, but the same dish was always served at it, and often there was not enough for all those who assembled there. When he was diffidently reproached for this he answered: ‘Silver and gold do not drop from trees as do the leaves in autumn.’

His great plan was to restore good relations between France and Spain, for these had naturally deteriorated greatly since the little Infanta had been sent home in such an insulting manner to make way for Marie Leczinska. He quickly made the Spanish aware that he, Fleury, had had no hand in that disgraceful business.

Louis looked on at the actions of the man who, although he did not the bear the title of First Minister of France, was so in all but name. He felt happy to be able to assure himself that the management of affairs was in such capable hands. With a good conscience he could give himself up to hunting and playing cards.

It was hot in the bedchamber. Outside the August sun shone down on the people who were waiting for the news. Many had crowded into the Palace, into the Queen’s bedchamber; it was the privilege of the people to witness the birth of royal children.

Louis was deeply moved. This was another new experience. He was about to become a father and he was full of exultation.

He forgot his annoyance with the Queen. Poor Marie, she had been led astray by that scheming woman, Madame de Prie. He should not blame her; she had come to the Court quite inexperienced of such women. Dear Marie! And now she was going to give him and France the heir.

In her bed Marie, suffering the pains of childbirth though she was, felt intensely happy. She was about to prove that she could do her duty by the King and France. His manner had been changing towards her. Eagerly he would talk of the child who was soon to make its appearance.

He referred to the baby as ‘He’.

‘Let the child be a Dauphin,’ she prayed.

She knew that her father and mother, all those who loved her, would be thinking of her at this time. If she could produce a Dauphin she believed she could regain all that ecstasy which had been hers when she first came to France.

‘A Dauphin,’ she whispered, as her women wiped the sweat from her brow. ‘Give me a Dauphin.’

All over Paris there were celebrations. The fireworks were magnificent; the churches were filled with those who had come to join in the thanksgiving; from the churches the people crowded to the Comédie Française and the Opéra, for on such occasions of rejoicing the actors and management gave the traditional free performances.

The Parisians were ready to take any opportunity for celebration; but the joy was not as wild as it would have been for a Dauphin.

‘Ah, well,’ said the philosophical citizens, ‘they are young yet. Time is before them; and at least she has shown that she is fertile.’

They crowded about the Palace and called for their King. When he appeared on the balcony, a baby on each arm, the crowd roared.

Two baby girls! It was almost as good as a Dauphin; and a Dauphin would come in time.

‘Long live the King!’ cried the people. ‘Long live Mesdames Première et Seconde!’

The cry was taken up all over Paris. Louis, walking up and down the apartment, a little girl on each arm, heard it and smiled at his wife.

‘I think,’ he said to her, ‘that the people are well pleased with Madame Louise-Elisabeth and Madame Anne-Henriette. Did you hear them, Marie? They are calling for another glimpse of Madame Première and Madame Seconde.’

‘You . . . are pleased?’ asked Marie anxiously.

Louis laid one of the babies in her arms and gently touched the cheek of the other.

‘When I look at these two little creatures,’ he said, ‘I would not wish to change them . . . even for a Dauphin. Besides! . . .’ His smile was affectionate. ‘The next will be a Dauphin.’

So Marie was able to close her eyes, to slip into a sleep of exhaustion, utterly contented, believing that the life which lay before her would be made good by her children and her loving husband.

The Duc de Bourbon was making frantic efforts to return to Court. His punishment had been very severe. The Court had been his life, and to be forced to live in the country without the company of Madame de Prie was hard to bear indeed; but an additional torment had been inflicted. He, whose great delight it had been to hunt, was forbidden to do so.

Bourbon was desolate, ready to humble himself to regain something of his old position. This was what Fleury and the King desired for him; it was gratifying to see the once arrogant Duke made humble.

Bourbon was constantly pleading with nobles of the Court to use their influence to have at least the ban on hunting rescinded, while in Chantilly he raged against his fate and spent his time planning how he could possibly escape this deprivation of all that had given him the greatest pleasure in life.

Eventually he achieved his desires, attaining them through his marriage with Charlotte of Hesse-Rheinfels – which, pleasing the King and Fleury, resulted in his recall to Court.

Madame de Prie was possessed of greater dignity than her lover.

In her Normandy château she attempted to gather about her a circle of wits and writers, and as many courtiers as she could lure from Versailles. She wanted to make her circle renowned and even feared at Court.

Despising the weakness of her lover Bourbon, and realising that he had escaped her, she took a new lover – a young country gentleman of great personal charm.

She was gay and appeared to be in high spirits, but she was thinking only of the Court and yearning to be once more its most brilliant member. She spent her days in planning entertainments, writing letters to her friend, that rake, the Duc de Richelieu, who was away on an embassy in Vienna.

Determined to attract attention to herself she pretended to be a prophetess and foretold her own death, but no one believed her, for she was extremely beautiful, full of vitality and only twenty-seven years old.

‘Nevertheless,’ she declared, ‘my end is near. I sense these things, and I know it.’

She continued to live gaily, adored by her lover, writing her verses and letters, giving one brilliant entertainment after another.

When the day drew near on which she had prophesied she would die, she saw sceptical looks in the eyes of her friends, and decided to give a great banquet three days before the appointed one. It was the most brilliant of all her entertainments. She read her newest verses to her guests and told them that this was a farewell banquet.

Her lover implored her not to joke about such a serious matter, but her answer was to take a diamond ring from her finger and give it to him.

‘It is worth a small fortune,’ she said. ‘It is yours to remember me by. I have other gifts for you, mon ami. Diamonds and other precious stones. They will be of no use to me where I am going.’

Her guests joked with her.

‘Enough of this talk of death,’ they said. ‘You will give many more parties such as this one.’

Her lover tried to give her back the ring, but she would not take it, and two days later she pressed more jewels on him.

‘Now,’ she said, ‘I want you to go away, for I would be alone.’

He had always obeyed her, and he did so now. She smiled at him fondly, as he said: ‘Au revoir, my dearest.’ But she answered ‘Adieu!’

The next day – that which she had named as her last on Earth – she shut herself in her rooms alone and thought of the past: of all the ambition and the glory which was hers no longer and which she knew she could never regain.

She poured herself a glass of wine and slipped into it a dose of poison.

When her servants came into her room they found her, dead.

Stanislas and his wife came to Versailles from Chambord.

The ex-King of Poland embraced his daughter with tears in his eyes. Queen Catherine watched them with restraint; she had never given way to displays of affection as these two had. She believed herself to be more of a realist than her husband and daughter.

Stanislas, his arm about his daughter, had led her to a window seat, and with arms still entwined they sat down.

‘And how is the King feeling towards you now, dearest daughter?’

‘So loving, Father. It is like a second honeymoon.’

The relief of Stanislas was obvious. ‘How glad I am! I have had some anxious moments. At the time of the dismissal of the Duc de Bourbon . . .’

‘I know, Father,’ said Marie. ‘Louis was very angry then.’

‘The whole Court expected him to take a mistress. Yet he did not.’

‘I could not have borne that,’ said Marie sharply.

Her father put his head close to hers and said: ‘Yet, my child, should it come, you must meet it with fortitude.’

His brow was slightly wrinkled; he was aware of his wife; he did not wish her to be reminded of his own peccadilloes, for he himself had found it impossible to live without women. His wife was a prim woman and he feared that Marie – much as he loved her – might be the same.

‘Louis is young and virile,’ murmured Stanislas. ‘Such matters could be unavoidable.’

Marie laughed. ‘I have something to tell you, Father.’

Stanislas took both her hands in his and kissed them. ‘Again?’ he said.

‘Yes, Father, I am already pregnant.’

‘It is excellent news. We will pray that this time it will be a Dauphin.’

‘Louis is enchanted!’ cried Marie.

‘Keep him so, my child. And remember, the more children a Queen bears, the stronger is her position. There must be many children, for children fall an easy prey to sickness. One son . . . two . . . three . . . You cannot have too many.’

Marie nodded. ‘It shall be so,’ she said. ‘It is what we both wish.’

The babies were brought in, and Madame Première and Madame Seconde kicked their fat little legs and gurgled and screamed to the delight of all who beheld them.

The King joined them, and his pride in his daughters was obvious.

Stanislas, watching Louis and Marie together, prayed that Marie would take the right course when the mistresses appeared – as it seemed inevitable they would.

There he stood, the handsome King of France – his features so beautiful as to be almost feminine; yet there was a certain sensuality beginning to dawn on that handsome face. How graceful he was, how perfect his poise and manners! Even Stanislas could see that Marie seemed rather stocky beside him, lacking his grace, rather like the daughter of a prosperous tradesman than the daughter of a King.

Yet, thought Stanislas, my darling girl has the most important of all qualities a Queen should possess. Already she has produced twins and there is another child on the way.

Let her find content in her children, thought Stanislas, and resignation to accept whatever must come to her. That is the way for Marie Leczinska to remain firmly on the throne of France.