The Falling of the Leaves—Gallican Rights—“The Eagle of Meaux”—Condé’s Funeral Oration—The Abbé Gedouin’s Theory—A Bag of Bones—Marriage and Sugar-plums—The Valour of Monsieur du Maine—The King’s Repentance—The next Campaign—La Fontaine and Madame de Sablière—MM. de Port Royal—The Fate of Madame Guyon—“Mademoiselle Balbien.”
And time passed on—passed on. The brilliant century was in its sere and yellow leaf, and one of the best and most amiable of the glorious band, le Nôtre, the gardenerpar excellence, faded and died, to the great grief of Louis, who dearly loved his company, and would walk by his chair in the garden of Versailles, when the invalid’s limbs had failed him. Ninon keenly felt the loss of the kindly friend, who had been one of the party to Rome with Santeuil—who had nearly missed the papal benediction on his hymns, as he always believed, by his witticisms about the carp. And now the good canon was to die, victim of a practical joke on the part of the young Duc de Condé, who amused himself with emptying the contents of his snuff-box into his guest’s glass of champagne. Unawares, Santeuil drained the glass; and the hideous concoction produced a fit of such convulsive sickness, that he died of it. Bitterly enough Condé repented, but that did not bring back his friend.
About the time that the zenith of Louis’s power was attained, when his very name was uttered on the bated breath of admiration, hatred and terror—and the yoke of the widow Scarron had not yet entangled him—and while the Doge of Genoa was compelled by Duquesne to sue for mercy at the feet of the French monarch—accused of complicity with the pirates of the Mediterranean—the Court of Rome was compelled to yield to the demands of the Church in France, in the matter of therégale. This right, which had ever been the strength and mainstay of religious Catholic independence in France, had fallen in later days somewhat into abeyance; and when, some nine years earlier, it had been put into active force again, the pope opposed it. To establish it on a firm footing was the work of Bossuet, who set forth and substantiated with the bishops of the dioceses of France the existing constitution of the Gallican Church under the ruling of the four famous articles: 1. That ecclesiastical power had no hold upon the temporal government of princes. 2. That a General Council was superior to the pope. 3. That the canons could regulate apostolical power and general ecclesiastical usage. 4. That the judgment of the Sovereign Pontiff is only infallible after the universal and general consent of the Church.
The pope and the Court of Rome had no choice but finally to accept these propositions; but unpalatable as they were, they came between the worse evil threatening Catholic Unity, of a schism such as it had suffered in England under Elizabeth and Henry.
The splendid gifts of Bossuet place his memory on a lasting and lofty eminence, as it placed him, living, in distinguished positions, Bishop of Meaux, preacher at the Louvre, preceptor to the Dauphin. From his profound theological learning welled forth the splendid eloquence which thrilled the vast assemblages flocking to drink in his orations. One of the most magnificent among these was that at the obsequies of the great Condé, beginning—
“Cast your gaze around; see all that magnificence and piety has endeavoured to do, to render honour to the hero: titles, inscriptions, vain records of what no longer exists, the weeping figures around the tomb and fragile images of a grief which Time, with all the rest, will bear away with it, columns which appear to lift to high heaven their magnificent testimony to him who is gone; and nothing is lacking in all this homage but him to whom it is given.... For me, if it is permitted to join with the rest in rendering the last duties beside your tomb, O Prince! noble and worthy subject of our praise and of our regrets, you will live eternally in my memory. I shall see you always, not in the pride of victory ... but as you were in those last hours under God’s hand, when His glory was breaking on you. It is thus I shall see you yet more greatly triumphing than at Fribourg and at Rocroi.... And in the words of the best-beloved disciple, I shall give thanks and say—‘The true victory is that which overcometh the world—even our faith.’”
“Cast your gaze around; see all that magnificence and piety has endeavoured to do, to render honour to the hero: titles, inscriptions, vain records of what no longer exists, the weeping figures around the tomb and fragile images of a grief which Time, with all the rest, will bear away with it, columns which appear to lift to high heaven their magnificent testimony to him who is gone; and nothing is lacking in all this homage but him to whom it is given.... For me, if it is permitted to join with the rest in rendering the last duties beside your tomb, O Prince! noble and worthy subject of our praise and of our regrets, you will live eternally in my memory. I shall see you always, not in the pride of victory ... but as you were in those last hours under God’s hand, when His glory was breaking on you. It is thus I shall see you yet more greatly triumphing than at Fribourg and at Rocroi.... And in the words of the best-beloved disciple, I shall give thanks and say—‘The true victory is that which overcometh the world—even our faith.’”
A noble purity of spirit and deep conviction inspired Bossuet’s eloquence. His knowledge was limited by his Jesuit training, though he studied anatomy at a later period, by the king’s desire, in order to instruct the Dauphin in the science; butwith science generally and physics he was unacquainted. As a Jesuit he was opposed to Jansenism and the Port-Royalists; but for long the gentle piety of Fénelon retained the respect and admiration of Bossuet’s more fiery spirit. Both these great men gave instruction at St Cyr, by the desire of Madame de Maintenon and the king.
Time must indeed have passed lightly by Ninon; for once again, at the age of eighty years, she inspired a young abbé, named Gedouin—a distant relative on the maternal side—with deep fervent admiration. Ninon at first believed that he was jesting with her, and rebuked him severely; but it was a very serious matter on his part, and though she told him of her fourscore years, he declared that it in no way altered his sentiments. “What of that?” he said; “wit and beauty know nothing of age,” and the Abbé Gedouin’s pleading, which was not in vain, terminated Ninon’s lastliaisonwith an affectionate and endearing friendship. When he was rallied on his conquest, the abbé’s rejoinder was that—
“Ah, mes amis, lorsqu’une tonneA contenu d’excellent vin,Elle garde un parfum divinEt la lie en est toujours bonne.”
“Ah, mes amis, lorsqu’une tonneA contenu d’excellent vin,Elle garde un parfum divinEt la lie en est toujours bonne.”
“Ah, mes amis, lorsqu’une tonne
A contenu d’excellent vin,
Elle garde un parfum divin
Et la lie en est toujours bonne.”
Monsieur de Lauzun, on the other hand, being now over sixty years old, contracted a marriage with an English girl of sixteen. She was so fearfully thin, that the Duc de St Simon, who was one of Mademoiselle de L’Enclos’cercle, said de Lauzun might as well have wedded all the bones of the HolyInnocents Cemetery, where the skulls and bones were piled in pyramids.
St Simon was a delightful conversationalist. He was the son of the old favourite of Louis XIII. He could be very caustic with his anecdotes. One night he greatly amused the company with an account of the marriage of the son of the Grand Dauphin, the little Duke of Burgundy. He was of the tender age when ordinary and everyday little boys are occasionally still liable to chastisement by their elders. The duchess to be, who was still very fond of her doll, was presented on the occasion by the Queen of England with a very elegantly trimmed shift, handed to her by the maids of honour on a magnificently enamelled tray. In this garment she was attired, while her youthful husband, seated on a footstool, was undressed in the presence of the king and of all the Court. The bride, being put to bed, the Duc of Burgundy was conducted in and also put into bed, beside which the Grand Dauphin then took his seat, while Madame de Lude took her place beside the young duchess. Then sugar-plums were offered to the bride and bridegroom, who cracked them up with the greatest enjoyment. After about a quarter of an hour, the Duc was taken out of bed again, a proceeding which appeared greatly to displease him, and he was led, sulking enough, back to the antechamber, where the Duc de Berry, some two years his junior, clapping him on the shoulder, told him he was not a bit of a man. “If it had been me,” he added, “I should have refused to get out of bed.”
The king imposed silence on the little rascal’srebellious counsel, and placed the bridegroom back into the hands of his tutors, declaring that he would not permit him to so much as kiss the tips of his wife’s fingers, for the next five years to come. “Then, grandpapa,” demanded the little brother, “why have you let them be married? It is ridiculous.” It was all certainly something like it.
After that the child was placed for his instruction in the care of the Abbé de Fénelon, whose rapid advancement at Court had been attained by his lofty character and talents.
But Louis had far more affection for his illegitimate children than for these, and aided by Madame de Maintenon’s intrigues, he finally succeeded in securing a large portion of the heritage of la Grande Mademoiselle for the Duc du Maine and the Duc du Vendôme; but the brave spirit of heroes and conquerors he could not endow them with, for all his desire. It was to no effect that he confided command to them of his troops in Holland. The Duc du Maine specially undistinguished himself. Just as the enemy was escaping scot-free, he found he was hungry, and asked for a cup of bouillon to strengthen him. “Charge! Charge, Monseigneur!” urged Villeroy’s messenger, coming to him in a fever of excitement.
“Oh, well, patience,” replied the warrior; “my wing is not in order yet.”
Finding no sort of response to his repeated messages, Villeroy went in search himself of the prince, and found him in his tent, at his confessor’s knees. The first duty of a good Christian, he said, was to make his peace at such times with Heaven.So the religious discipline of his governess and stepmother, the widow Scarron and Madame de Maintenon, had borne fruit. It was of a different flavour from the prayer of the brave servant of King Charles I.—Sir Edmund Verney—before Edgehill: “Lord, Thou knowest how busy I must be this day. If I forget Thee, do not Thou forget me.” And there was no battle won or lost that day on the Dutch frontier, and Louis, when they brought to Versailles news of the enemy’s safe retreat, was at a loss to understand the situation; for no one cared, or dared, to tell him the truth, until Lavienne, hisvalet-de-chambrein chief, in the days of Louis’s amours, hazarded the observation that, after all, proverbs could speak falsely, and that “Good bloodcouldlie;” and then he went on to add the other truths concerning Monsieur du Maine. In the face of the fulsome praise following in the journals—which lied as only journals know how—the king was overwhelmed with grief and chagrin; and, beside himself, he broke his cane in a fit of anger on the back of one of an unlucky servant, whom he happened to detect surreptitiously eating a bit of marchpane. This ebullition, creating the consternation of all the Court, just sitting down to dinner, brought Madame Louis Quatorze and Père la Chaise upon the scene. “Parbleu, mon père,” said the king, gradually regaining his senses, “I have just chastised a wretched creature who greatly merited it.”
“Ah!” gasped the confessor.
“And I have broken my cane on his back. Have I offended God?”
“No, my son, no,” replied the holy man. “It is merely that the excitement may be harmful to your precious health.”
Fortunately the cane, being of slenderest rosewood, had easily snapped.
Before the end of the next campaign, the redoubtable Duc du Maine was recalled: d’Elbœuf hastened to say to him, making a profound bow, “Have the goodness, Monseigneur, to inform me where you propose entering on the next campaign.”
The duke turned, smiling, and extended his hand to d’Elbœuf, whose ironical tones he had failed to perceive.
“Wherever it is,” added d’Elbœuf, “I should wish to be there.”
“Why?” demanded the duke.
“Because,” replied d’Elbœuf, after a silence, “at least one’s life would be safe.”
Monsieur du Maine gave a jump, as if he had trodden on a serpent, and went away without replying, not being better furnished with wit than he was with valour.
And the autumn leaves of Ninon’s life were ever fast falling around her. In her Château de Boulogne Madame de la Sablière passed away, and la Fontaine, finding life a sad thing without her, quickly followed her.
The Jesuit conception of religious faith, great as were its merits as originated in the mind of Loyola, theoretically, and in its code drawn up by his gifted successor, Lainez, had displayed its imperfectionsin its practical working, as time passed. This was more apparent in France even than elsewhere on the Continent; since there papal authority was tempered by regulations which afforded wider scope to thoughtful and devout minds ever occupied by the problem of final salvation and its attainment.
“Two such opposed foes encamp them stillIn man as well as herbs, grace and rude will,”
“Two such opposed foes encamp them stillIn man as well as herbs, grace and rude will,”
“Two such opposed foes encamp them still
In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will,”
says Friar Lawrence, musing over his “osier cage,” of weeds and flowers. There had been no time on Christian record that the question had not exercised theologians, and when it had burnt into fuller flame, fanned by the ardent soul of Luther, it spread through Europe and was called the Reformation; but the spirit of it had been ever present in the Church, and to endeavour to stamp out the Catholic faith had, in Luther’s earlier days at all events, formed no part of his desire. Yet scarcely had his doctrines formulated, than the fanaticism and extravagance of the ignorant and irresponsible seized upon them, and wrung them out of all size and proportion to fit their own wild lusts and inclinations, “stumbling on abuse,” striving to impose their levelling and socialistic views, and establish a community of goods, and all else in common—even their wives, though dispensing with clothing as a superfluity and a vanity displeasing in Heaven’s sight. So Anabaptism ran riot in Germany under John of Leyden and his disciples; while upon its heels Calvin’s gloomy and hopeless tenets kept men’s minds seething in doubt andspeculation over grace and free-will, his narrow creed and private enmity bringing Servetus to hideous and prolonged torture and death at the stake, for heresy.
Stirred by the revolt of Protestantism on one side, and the claims of Rome on the other, supported by the Jesuits, speculation gained increased activity within the pale of the Catholic Church, animated further by the writings of Jansenius, Bishop of Ypres, whose theories on grace and the efficacy of good works were grounded mainly on theviâ media, and it was the following of his opinions by the illustrious students gathered at Port Royal which created the school of Jansenists that included such names as Fénelon, Pascal, and so many others, headed by the Abbé Arnauld, whose sister Angélique was the Superior of the convent of Port Royal, and whose father, the learned advocate, had been so stern an opponent to the Jesuits as to have caused their expulsion from France in the reign of Henri IV. Readmitted later, they found as firm an opponent in his son, who, when still quite young, wrote a brilliant treatise against the danger of Jesuit casuistry.
The convent of Port Royal des Champs was situated on the road from Versailles to Chevreuse, and hard by, in a farmhouse called La Grange, “Messieurs de Port Royal,” as the Jansenist priests and students were called, made their home. They had for their friends the most distinguished men, scholars and poets of the time; Boileau, Pascal, Racine were of the band. The place itself is now scarcelymore than a memory. It was then, wrote Madame de Sévigné, “Tout propre à inspirer le désir de faire son salut,” and hither came many a high-born man and woman of the world to find rest and peace. Now a brokentourelleor two, the dovecote and a solitary Gothic arch reflecting in a stagnant pool, are all that remain in the sequestered valley, of the famous Port Royal, which early in the next century was destroyed by royal decree, when its glory had departed, following the foreordained ruling of all mundane achievement; and the extravagance of theconvulsionnairesand later followers of Jansenism was stamped out by the bull “Unigenitus” against heresy.
Arnauld’s heart was deposited at Port Royal at his death, with the remains of his mother and sisters. Louis XIV., as ever his wont had been to genius and intellect, had invited him “to employ his golden pen in defence of religion;” but that was before the great king came under the direction of Madame de Maintenon and Père la Chaise. But that Madame and her Jesuit confessor would long continue to regard the Port-Royalists with favour was not possible. Intolerance succeeded to patronage, and Fénelon was deported to Cambrai, sent afar from his friend, Madame Guyon, whose order of arrest and incarceration in the Château de Vincennes was issued very shortly after Mademoiselle de L’Enclos’ interview with Madame Louis Quatorze in her Versailles sanctum.
In her dismay, Madame Guyon contrived to fly to Ninon, seeking protection; but it was of no avail.Without a moment’s delay, Ninon drove to Versailles, and sought an interview with Madame de Maintenon on behalf of Madame Guyon. The interview was not accorded. Nanon—the Nanon of Scarron days, but now “Mademoiselle Balbien”—was delegated to speak with her.—“Mademoiselle Balbien,” who gave Ninon to understand that she was to be addressed no longer as “tu” (“thou”), but as “vous” (“you”), that the question of Madame Guyon could not even be entered upon, and under threat of being herself again lodged in theRépentiesshe was bidden to depart.
Ninon was at first amazed at this strange reception and insolent behaviour of mistress and maid. But she was not left long in perplexity, since “Mademoiselle Balbien” permitted the truth to escape her prim lips, that Madame de Maintenon had credited Ninon with the design of introducing d’Aubigné into the boudoir in the middle of that memorable interview, with the intention of disgracing Madame in the estimation of the king. That Ninon was not made of the stuff for this, it is almost superfluous to say. Any sins she might have to answer for, did not include the hypocrisy with which Madame de Maintenon had clothed herself about, and almost equally needless is it to repeat that by no possible means the concealed presence of the king could have been known by any but the two most immediately concerned. It could be but a matter of their dual consciousness.
For six years Madame Guyon remained in prison. Monsieur Fénelon’sMaximes des Saintswas condemnedby the Court of Rome, and the bigotry and hypocrisy ruling Versailles swelled daily.
Molière, alas! was no more, to expose the perilous absurdities and lash them to extinction; but the comedy ofLa Fausse Prude, produced some weeks later at the Italiens, was a prodigious success. The world greatly enjoyed and admired the fitting of the cap, built upon the framework supplied by one who had befriended and sheltered under her own roof the forlorn young orphan girl, Françoise d’Aubigné.