CHAPTER XXIII
Monsieur le Duc and Madame de Prie determine to break off the marriage of Louis XV. and the Infanta, and to marry the young King to a princess capable of at once giving him an heir—Double interest of the favourite in the accomplishment of this design—Question of the remarriage of Monsieur le Duc—Madame de Prie, unable to oppose this, selects Marie Leczinska—Rupture of the Spanish marriage—Exasperation of the Court of Madrid—Difficulty of finding a suitable consort for Louis XV.—Madame de Prie accused of having barred the way of Mlle. de Vermandois to the crown matrimonial—The favourite advocates the claims of Marie Leczinska, who is eventually chosen—Triumph of Madame de Prie—Arrival of the new Queen—A model husband—Growing unpopularity of the Government and increasing influence of Fleury—An unsuccessful intrigue—Madame de Prie retires from Court, but Monsieur le Duc insists on her return—Disgrace of Monsieur le Duc—His mother and his mistress follow him to Chantilly—Madame de Prie is exiled to Normandy—A touching farewell—Chivalrous behaviour of the prince—Death of Madame de Prie—Remarriage of Monsieur le Duc—His death.
Monsieur le Duc and Madame de Prie did not allow themselves to be cast down by the reverse which they had sustained at the Palais de Justice, since for some months they had been meditating a most daring project, which, they believed, would render them absolute masters of the field.
We have mentioned that in 1721 the Infanta Luisa Isabella, then in her fifth year, had been sent to the French Court to be brought up there until she had reached a marriageable age, when she was to become the wife of Louis XV. Well, this arrangement had always been regarded with the strongest disfavour by Monsieur le Duc and his mistress. In the first place, years must elapse before the “Infanta-Queen,” as the little princess was called, would be able to bear an heir to the throne, and should Louis XV. die without male issue, their enemy, the Duc de Chartres, would become King. In the second, should the Infanta succeed in gaining any influence over the young monarch’s mind, that influence would certainly be exploited by Philip V. to bring about the dismissal of Monsieur le Duc and the elevation of the Orléans.
During the visit of the King to Chantilly in the previous summer they had taken counsel with Pâris-Duverney and their principal advisers, and had decided that the Infanta must be sent back to Spain, even at the risk of an open breach with Philip V.; and Louis XV. married to some princess who could at once make him a father.
Madame de Prie had personally a double interest in the accomplishment of this design, for not only would it remove the greatest dangers which Monsieur le Duc had to fear and immensely strengthen his position, but the marriage of the King and the birth of a prince would serve to retard perhaps indefinitely the marriage of her lover. For while only two lives stood between Monsieur le Duc and the throne, it was obviously his duty to take a second wife, and Madame la Duchesse was continually urging him to do so. Such a prospect was naturally most distasteful to Madame de Prie, not because she had much reason to fear a rival in the prince’s affections, but because she had become so attached to him that she could not bear the thought of surrendering him, even nominally, to another woman. Moreover, his remarriage must interfere to some extent with that free intercourse which had hitherto existed between them, and which, for political as well as sentimental reasons, might occasion serious inconvenience.
However, since she did not see her way to offer any opposition to the affair without the risk of an open quarrel with Madame la Duchesse, she decided to accept the inevitable, and to occupy herself in finding a wife for her lover who, while not possessing sufficient personal attractions to cause her any jealousy, would be sufficiently complaisant to reduce the inconveniences which she feared to a minimum.
She accordingly lent Madame la Duchesse her most devoted adherents, the same whom she was presently to employ on behalf of Louis XV.; and the Courts of Europe were ransacked to find a suitable partner for the chief of the Condés. The search proved to be a difficult one, for Madame de Prie’s requirements naturally caused not a few otherwise eligible young ladies to be passed over by her agents; but, at length, her old admirer Lozilières, formerly secretary to the Embassy at Turin, who journeyed under the name of the Chevalier de Méré and in the character of a wandering artist, reported the discovery of one whom he thought might answer her purpose.
The princess in question was Marie Leczinska, daughter of Stanislaus Leczinski, the dethroned and fugitive King of Poland, who was now vegetating sadly at Weissembourg, in Alsace. She was described as pleasing in appearance, though without any pretensions to beauty, very amiable, very kind-hearted, and entirely devoid of ambition; in short, exactly the kind of young woman to make Monsieur le Duc a good wife, without threatening any danger to his mistress. The favourite’s suggestion of an alliance between the Duc de Bourbon and the Polish princess was well received by Madame la Duchesse, for, though the young lady’s father was at present in exile, it was far from improbable that a turn of fortune might one day restore him to his throne; Monsieur le Duc offered no opposition; Stanislaus gave thanks to Heaven that his daughter’s hand was sought by so powerful a prince; Marie had no other wish than that of her father; and the affair was almost concluded, when events occurred which decided the Government that the marriage of the King to a princess capable of bearing him children was a question which admitted of no delay.
On 30 August, 1724, the young King of Spain died, and Philip V. resumed the crown which he had resigned a few months before. Early in 1725, a despatch from Philip to his Ambassador at the Court of Versailles was intercepted by the agents of Monsieur le Duc, which showed that it was his intention to demand “the public declaration of the nuptial arrangements” between Louis XV. and the Infanta. And, almost immediately after this discovery, the young King fell so ill that for several days he was believed to be in serious danger.
This last event precipitated matters, and the French Government resolved not to wait until the new fiancée was chosen, but to inform the Court of Madrid at once of the resolution at which they had arrived. The Maréchal de Tessé, the French Ambassador, little suitable to undertake so disagreeable a commission, on account of his great attachment to Philip V., was recalled, and it was the Abbé de Livry, chargé d’affaires at Lisbon, who presented to his Catholic Majesty the letter in which Louis XV. endeavoured to justify the affront which he was inflicting on his uncle. “Trembling from head to foot, the abbé presented to the King his master’s letter. The Queen was at the end of the cabinet, occupied with her correspondence. Suddenly, she heard the King strike the table violently, and cry out: ‘Ah! the traitor!’ She ran to him.... The King handed her the letter, saying: ‘Take it, Madame, read it!’ The Queen read it, and then, handing back the letter, she replied with great composure: ‘Well! We must send to receive the Infanta.’”[269]
When the news was known in Madrid, the indignation of the populace knew no bounds; excited crowds paraded the streets; the King of France was burned in effigy, and the French residents trembled for their safety. Philip V. even talked of imprisoning his widowed daughter-in-law and her sister, Mlle. de Beaujolais, in some remote corner of the kingdom, where they should remain as hostages. But afterwards he changed his mind, and at the end of March they were sent back to France, the want of courtesy shown them being in striking contrast to the infinite formalities which marked the journey of the Infanta from Versailles to Bayonne. That little princess departed under the impression that she was merely going to pay a visit to her family.
Meanwhile, the search for the future Queen of France was being busily prosecuted. The claims of over one hundred princesses were discussed by the Council, and one after another eliminated from the list, on the score that they were too old or too young or too poor or too delicate, until the number was reduced to three; the two youngest sisters of Monsieur le Duc, Mlle. de Vermandois and Mlle. de Sens, and the Princess Anne of England.
The idea of a marriage between Louis XV. and one of the Condés displeased Fleury, while Monsieur le Duc feared that it might expose him to the charge of having sent away the Infanta in order to elevate his own family; and it was therefore decided to demand the hand of the English princess. It seems astonishing that Monsieur le Duc and his advisers should not have understood that the question of religion would prove an insuperable obstacle to the proposed alliance. They made it conditional on the Princess Anne’s conversion to Catholicism, although the Hanoverian dynasty occupied the throne of England in virtue of its Protestant professions. As every one but themselves must have foreseen, George I.’s answer was a courteous but firm refusal.
Monsieur le Duc appeared to find himself thrown back upon his sisters. Both possessed all the physical and mental qualifications that could be desired in a queen; but the younger, Mlle. de Sens, was very much under the domination of her mother, and Madame de Prie feared that Madame la Duchesse might exercise through her an influence hostile to her own. The same objection did not apply to her elder sister, and there is a tradition that the favourite went, under an assumed name, to the Abbey of Fontevrault, of which Mlle. de Vermandois was a pensionnaire, to inform her, on behalf of Monsieur le Duc, of the honour in store for her; that, in the course of their conversation, she inquired if she had ever heard of Madame de Prie, to which the young princess replied, in a horrified tone, that the said lady was a “méchante créature,” whom no one ever mentioned in the convent without making the sign of the Cross; that it was deplorable that her brother should have fallen under the influence of a person who was detested by all France, and that he would be well advised to get rid of her as soon as possible. Whereupon, we are told, Madame de Prie abruptly quitted the room, exclaiming furiously: “Va! tu ne seras pas reine de France.”
In a monotonous age it seems a pity to spoil so striking a story, but, in the interests of truth, we feel bound to mention that, some three months after the date at which this incident is supposed to have occurred, Mlle. de Vermandois wrote to the favourite a letter couched in the most cordial terms, and concluding thus: “I cannot too often repeat to you, Madame, what are the sentiments of confidence, friendship, and consideration that I entertain for you.”[270]
The fact of the matter is that Mlle. de Vermandois did not become the bride of Louis XV., because she preferred to become the bride of Heaven, in which she perhaps showed a wise discretion.
The refusal of Mlle. de Vermandois was probably a relief to Monsieur le Duc, who was aware that the bitterness and jealousy aroused by the elevation of his sister would go far to outweigh the advantages which he would gain from his close connexion with the King. At the same time, it threatened to prolong a situation the dangers of which had been brought home to him very forcibly by the recent serious illness of his young Sovereign.
It was at this moment that he received, from the Empress Catherine of Russia, an offer which contributed indirectly to give to the great affair of the marriage of Louis XV. the most unexpected dénoûment. Catherine proposed that her daughter Elizabeth should wed the King of France, and that Monsieur le Duc himself should marry Marie Leczinska—with whom she was no doubt aware that he had already opened matrimonial negotiations—and become the Russian candidate for the throne of Poland, in succession to Augustus III.
This gave Madame de Prie an opening of which she was not slow to take advantage. The Russian alliance, she declared, to Monsieur le Duc, was quite out of the question, for the Princess Elizabeth was reported to be a true child of her mother, and would be certain to acquire a great influence over the young King, which would, of course, be directed by Catherine. But let the prince resign his own pretensions to the hand of Marie Leczinska in favour of his Sovereign, and not only would he escape a marriage which only a sense of the duty he owed his family was impelling him to contract, but he would secure a Queen who would owe everything to him, who had no support either in France or abroad, and whose character promised obedience and docility.
The name of Marie Leczinska had already been erased from the list of marriageable princesses, on the ground that she belonged to a poor and dispossessed family; but, urged on by his mistress and Pâris-Duverney, Monsieur le Duc immediately proceeded to advocate her claims. His proposal met with the most violent opposition from the Duc d’Orléans, who presented himself before Louis XV., with tears coursing down his cheeks, and endeavoured to persuade him from a marriage contrary, he declared, to the wishes of the nation; while the King of Sardinia, his Majesty’s grandfather, indignant at not having been consulted, addressed the most reproachful letters to the young monarch concerning the mésalliance which he was about to commit. But Fleury, a word from whom would have had more weight with Louis XV. than the expostulations of all the kings and princes in Europe, excused himself from expressing an opinion, and on 27 May, 1725, his Majesty announced publicly, after dinner, his approaching marriage with Marie Leczinska.
It was a great triumph for Monsieur le Duc and his mistress. At one blow, so to speak, they had got rid of the Infanta and the dreaded influence of Philip V.; affianced the King to a princess who might before a year had elapsed bear him a son to stand between the Duc d’Orléans and the throne, and secured a Queen of France from whose influence they had nothing to fear and everything to hope.
The exiles of Weissembourg were not allowed to remain in doubt as to whom they were indebted for their amazing good fortune, and they displayed a gratitude proportioned to their joy. “In his correspondence with the Maréchal de Bourg,” writes M. Thirion, “the dethroned King returned constantly to the gratitude which he, his wife, and his daughter had vowed to the Marquise de Prie, to the admiration which she had inspired in them, to the affection which they all three bore her, to the respectful gratitude which they professed for Monsieur le Duc. It was to Madame de Prie that they addressed themselves, when they desired to know what they were expected to do, of this or that custom of the Court. And the day when, in a scene which has remained celebrated, the ex-King of Poland threw himself on his knees to return thanks to Heaven for having called his daughter to such high destinies, he thought still of the favourite. He mentioned her in his thanksgivings.”
But great triumphs, whether military or political, are seldom cheaply obtained, and in the present instance the cost was very considerable. Spain had been exasperated to the last degree by the almost brutal repudiation of the Infanta and had thrown herself into the arms of Austria; the Orléans were furious at being outwitted and at the treatment to which Monsieur le Duc’s action had exposed their relatives in Spain, and were more than ever determined to compass his disgrace; while a great part both of the Court and the nation was indignant at the selection of a princess without alliance, without fortune, and without credit.
However, when all things were taken into account, the Prime Minister and his favourite felt that they had good cause for rejoicing, and they awaited with impatience the coming of Marie Leczinska and the consummation of their hopes.
On 15 August, 1725, the Duc d’Orléans, in the name of the King of France, espoused Marie Leczinska, at Strasbourg. For obvious reasons, the duty could not have been an altogether pleasant one for his Royal Highness to perform, nor was it rendered any the more agreeable by the fact that his enemy, Madame de Prie, in her capacity as one of the twelve dames du palais of the Queen of France, was a witness of his discomfiture. The favourite might have aspired to the more exalted post of dame d’atours (mistress of the robes), but this she had prudently decided to forgo, lest she should be accused of wishing to dominate her Majesty too ostensibly. But the successful candidate, the Comtesse de Mailly, mother-in-law of the future mistress of Louis XV., was her selection, as were all the ladies-in-waiting.
Two days later, Marie Leczinska set out to join the King, who had just established himself at Fontainebleau. It was remarked that both at Strasbourg and during the journey her Majesty showed an extreme graciousness towards Madame de Prie, and conversed with her longer and more frequently than with any of her colleagues. At Moret, the Queen was met by Louis XV., accompanied by all the Princesses. Marie descended from her coach, and was preparing to kneel on a cushion hastily thrown, but the King prevented her, kissed her on both cheeks, “with a vivacity which astonished those who were aware of his timidity where women were concerned,” and did not conceal his pleasure. On 5 September, the marriage was celebrated, in the chapel at Fontainebleau, with the utmost magnificence, and the next day Monsieur le Duc wrote to Stanislaus Leczinski that his Majesty’s attitude towards his wife “had surpassed his hopes, and, if possible, his desires,” adding certain intimate details, upon which, however, we dare not venture.
The Court remained at Fontainebleau until the first days of December, when it returned to Versailles, where the young Queen was installed in the apartments formerly occupied by Marie Thérèse of Austria and the Duchesse de Bourgogne. No cloud had as yet troubled the royal honeymoon. The King was quite a devoted husband; he passed every night with his wife; compared her to Queen Blanche, the mother of Saint-Louis, and said to those who drew his attention to the beauty of some lady of the Court: “I find the Queen still more beautiful.”
Monsieur le Duc and Madame de Prie were delighted, believing that from this passion would spring true friendship and confidence; that gradually Marie Leczinska would acquire ascendency over the mind of this young King, half-man, half-child, and that they would be able to govern him through her.
And badly did they stand in need of a support near the throne, for every day the Government of Monsieur le Duc was becoming more unpopular. The cruel edict of May, 1724, against the Protestants, loudly condemned even by many staunch Catholics; the brutal manner in which the laws against mendicity were enforced; the failure of the prosecution of Le Blanc; the restriction of the privileges of the magistracy, in which most people saw only an act of vengeance for the acquittal of the ex-Minister for War; the favour shown to the Pâris brothers, who were generally hated; the sudden alliance of Austria and Spain and the fear that another war was on the point of breaking out; the enormous rise in the price of bread, which, though mainly due to the failure of the harvest of 1725, was attributed by the people to the operations of Madame de Prie and the Pâris brothers; and the ceaseless intrigues of the Orléans faction, had raised against it a perfect tempest of indignation. Riots broke out in several towns, and were with difficulty suppressed; satires and pamphlets against the Government poured from the printing-presses of the capital; more than one Minister talked of resigning his office. Unless Monsieur le Duc could secure the favour and confidence of the King, his Ministry was doomed.
But between Monsieur le Duc and the King stood the figure of Fleury. The prince had now been Prime Minister for two years, yet never had he succeeded in obtaining a single hour’s private conversation with Louis XV. on affairs of State. A score of times when he imagined that he had found a favourable occasion to speak to him on business, the King had immediately turned the conversation to the chase, the play or some kindred subject, on which he continued to talk until Fleury, whom he never failed to summon, entered his cabinet. The previous year, when Louis XV. was at Chantilly and the Bishop of Fréjus had gone to spend a week at the country-house of the Duc de Liancourt, Monsieur le Duc had endeavoured to take advantage of his absence; but the King intimated to him that he would do nothing until the return of his preceptor, and even refused to sign some papers of trifling importance which were awaiting his signature. All his efforts to secure the confidence of the young monarch remained without result; the Bishop of Fréjus perpetually barred the way.
And he could not disguise from himself the fact that Fleury was no longer content to remain neutral. He had become, if not the opponent of Monsieur le Duc himself, at least that of his chief advisers. One day, in the spring of 1726, he drew the prince aside, denounced in the strongest terms the conduct of Madame de Prie and Duverney, whom he stigmatized as enemies of the State, and declared that “the reputation of his Highness imperiously demanded that he should no longer submit to the domination of such unworthy counsellors.” It was practically an ultimatum, or, at any rate, Monsieur le Duc regarded it in that light. If he were willing to dismiss his mistress and Duverney and govern on the advice of Fleury, the latter would graciously permit him to retain the simulacrum of power. If not, the bishop intended to procure the disgrace of all three.
The Prime Minister warmly defended his friends, asserting that they were the victims of envy and prejudice, and ended by declaring that, since he well knew that they were ready to hazard everything for him, even their lives, if they were to fall, he would fall with them. Then, after high words on both sides, the prince and the bishop parted.
When this conversation was reported to Madame de Prie, she at once perceived that there could be no safety for the Ministry of Monsieur le Duc so long as Fleury remained at Court, and she represented to her lover that all their efforts must henceforth be directed to separating him from the King. It was, of course, too much to hope that Louis XV. would ever consent to banish his former preceptor, but the latter might be induced to believe that he had forfeited his Majesty’s confidence and retire of his own accord.
But how was this to be accomplished? Obviously, by means of the Queen. Marie Leczinska, thanks to the efforts of Madame de Prie and the ladies whom the favourite had placed about her, who insinuated that Fleury was jealous of the affection the King entertained for her, was already prejudiced against the bishop; while she naturally felt herself under great obligations to those who had placed the crown matrimonial upon her head.
On 18 December, 1725, it was decided to make an attempt to accustom the King to work with the Prime Minister without the presence of his preceptor. The Queen, after a good deal of hesitation, had consented to lend herself to this intrigue, certain indiscreet words which Fleury had uttered in her presence having dissipated her last scruples.
In accordance with the plan agreed upon, when Louis XV. returned from the chase, she sent to ask him to join her in her cabinet. It was then about an hour before that which he invariably spent in conversation with his preceptor.
On entering his wife’s apartments, the King found her with Monsieur le Duc. With her most ingratiating smile, the Queen told him that she had a favour to ask of him. Would he not consent to work in her cabinet that evening with the Prime Minister only?
The King refused, though she continued to press him until the time arrived for him to join Fleury. Before he left, however, she succeeded in extracting a promise from him that he would return shortly. Proceeding to his own apartments, where his preceptor was awaiting him, the King gave him an exact account of all that had passed, at the same time assuring him that, he was resolved never to work alone with Monsieur le Duc and not to return to the Queen. Fleury, however, begged him to go back, as he had given his promise to the Queen, adding that, if he were determined not to discuss affairs of State alone with Monsieur le Duc, he had better send for him. “No, no!” replied the King; “remain here; I shall return in a moment.”
Louis XV. went out, and did not return, the Queen and Monsieur le Duc having detained him on various pretexts. Fleury waited an hour, and then, believing or, more probably, feigning to believe, that the King had yielded to the persuasions of the Queen, retired, and on the following morning wrote to the King, begging him, since his services were no longer of any value to him, to permit him to spend the rest of his days in retreat. After which, he quitted Versailles for a little house which he owned in the village of Issy.
The King, who had started very early for the chase, did not receive the letter until the afternoon. He appeared very much disturbed, and retired at once to his apartments, where he threw himself into a chair and remained for more than an hour in an attitude of the most profound dejection. At length, one of his gentlemen of the Chamber, the Duc de Mortemart, ventured to mention the cause of his sorrow. “What, Sire,” said he, “are you not the master? Tell Monsieur le Duc to send at once for M. de Fréjus, and you will see him again.”
The King followed his advice; the Prime Minister was obliged to obey, with what feelings may be imagined, and on the following morning Fleury returned in triumph to Versailles.
From that hour it was clear that the Ministry was doomed, unless it could come to terms with the bishop. The outcry against it redoubled in intensity; its more lukewarm friends began to fall away and to pay their court openly to Fleury; while the King’s manner towards his wife plainly showed the irritation which he felt at her conduct.
It is probable that Fleury would have been prepared to leave the nominal direction of affairs in the hands of Monsieur le Duc, at any rate until the situation both at home and abroad had become less embarrassing, if the prince had consented to the dismissal of Madame de Prie and Duverney, the two particular objects of public hatred. Several times he urged this step upon the prince, only to be met with an assurance that both of them had practically ceased to exercise any political influence. More wise than her lover, Madame de Prie sought to conciliate the bishop by temporarily renouncing public life, and, when her duties as dame du palais did not require her presence at the Court, passing the greater part of her time in Paris. At the beginning of March, 1726, she withdrew to an estate which she had acquired near Lisieux, whence she wrote begging the Queen to accord her permission to remain there for some time and to allow one of her colleagues to perform her official functions. Monsieur le Duc, however, showed great irritation at the departure of his mistress, the more so since it coincided with the absence of Duverney, who had decided to efface himself for a while also, although the Prime Minister was just then in particular need of his advice on some financial question; and he accordingly sent the marchioness what was practically an order to return to Versailles. She arrived, escorted by Duverney, who had received a similar summons; and their unexpected appearance upon the scene created a most unfortunate impression, and convinced Fleury that all his remonstrances were useless, and that they had acquired such ascendency over the Prime Minister that he would never consent to part with them.
Henceforth, the only question with him was the choice of a convenient moment for the disgrace of Monsieur le Duc. Both he and the King, however, found it difficult to take the decisive step, and they were still hesitating when, on 8 June, the Prime Minister, exasperated by a fresh outburst against Madame de Prie, who had just returned to Versailles from a visit to Paris, came to Louis XV. and tendered his resignation. But it was not Monsieur le Duc’s resignation that the bishop required, but his dismissal, and, on his advice, Louis XV., with that dissimulation which was one of the least edifying traits in his character, not only begged the Prime Minister to retain his office, but gave him “marks of his friendship and satisfaction.”
Monsieur le Duc had no choice but to withdraw his resignation, and left the royal presence under the comforting impression that he stood in no immediate danger. He was speedily undeceived.
On Tuesday, 11 June, at three o’clock in the afternoon, Monsieur le Duc, Madame de Prie and Duverney being all three still at Versailles, Louis XV. set out for Rambouillet. At dinner the King had shown himself particularly gracious to the Prime Minister. He had given him to taste some bread which had been kneaded specially for him at the Ménagerie; had thrown a little loaf into his hat, and had said, as he rose from table: “Monsieur, despatch your affairs and come early to Rambouillet, because I shall sup at half-past eight,” a recommendation which he repeated at the moment of entering his carriage.
After the King had driven away, Monsieur le Duc went to his cabinet, where he passed the rest of the afternoon working with the Minister for War, Breteuil, and the Comptroller-General, Dodun. Shortly before eight o’clock, the other Ministers left the château, and the prince was about to follow them, when he was informed that the Duc de Charost, Captain of the Guards, had been waiting for three-quarters of an hour in order to speak to him.
But let us allow Mathieu Marais to relate what followed in his own words:
“The prince went out and told the Duc de Charost that he was going to join the King at Rambouillet, and was pressed for time, and asked him to defer until the morrow what he had to say to him. The Captain of the Guards answered in a low tone that what he had to say to him was from the King; upon which they re-entered the cabinet. The Duc de Charost handed him an order from the King, which was to the effect that, as he wished to govern himself in the future, he was suppressing the office of Prime Minister; that he thanked him for his services, and ordered him to retire to Chantilly, until further orders. This order was in the King’s own hand. The prince’s first movement was one of anger, after which he said that he would obey. He asked: ‘And my papers?’ and was told that there were no orders concerning them. He sorted them, burned some, placed some in his pocket, and filled a despatch-box with others, observing: ‘These are the King’s papers, and all the others that remain are his.’ He wrote to Madame la Duchesse almost, it is said, in these terms: ‘Every day follows another, and does not resemble it. Yesterday, I was Cæsar; to-day, I am Pompey. I am going to Chantilly. I count, belle maman, on your still preserving for me your good graces.’ He was asked for his parole, which he gave, and then entered his carriage, which had been waiting for a long time to take him to Rambouillet. He thanked all the courtiers who accompanied him to his carriage, and when he was outside the gates, he was heard to say to his postilion: ‘To Chantilly!’ M. de Saint-Pol, exempt of the Guards, accompanied him as far as the château.”
While Charost was communicating the wishes of the King to the Prime Minister, Fleury, who was about to replace him, proceeded to the Queen’s apartments, armed with a letter which he had dictated that morning to his former pupil. It was as follows: “I beg you, Madame, and, if need be, I order you, to do everything that the former Bishop of Fréjus will tell you on my behalf, as if it were myself.”[271] The selection of Fleury to inform the Queen of the disgrace of her friends and to signify to her his orders was a refinement of cruelty, and the poor woman wept bitterly. After a while, however, she recovered her composure and wrote to the King: “Gratitude towards Monsieur le Duc has made me shed tears, but your commands dry them.”
As soon as the bishop had departed, the Queen sent for Madame de Prie and the fallen Minister’s favourite sister, Mlle. de Clermont, whom she informed of what had occurred. Both ladies started that same night for Chantilly, where they arrived at daybreak. In the evening, Madame la Duchesse, who had received the news of her son’s disgrace at the Château of Saint-Maur, appeared upon the scene, with the faithful Lassay in her train.[272] Madame la Duchesse had always detested Madame de Prie, and regarding her, as she now did, as the cause of her son’s disgrace, her indignation against her knew no bounds. “She was very surprised to learn that Madame de Prie was there, and manifested it in terms which marked her contempt and hatred. After having embraced her son, she told him that she hoped that the lady would not be so indiscreet as to present herself before her. Monsieur le Duc replied that she should have reason to be satisfied, and begged her not to be displeased if he did not sup with her, as he was very tired. He supped alone with Madame de Prie; Madame la Duchesse supped with M. de Lassay.
“On the Thursday, on descending to dinner, Madame la Duchesse perceived that a place had been laid for Madame de Prie next to her own. She stopped and manifested her surprise. Madame de Prie approached and said to her: ‘Is it your wish that I retire?’ She replied: ‘No, you may sit down to table!’ But she called the Prince di Carignano to sit by her, and Madame de Prie took the prince’s place.
“As this was done in a manner sufficiently humiliating, there were, after dinner, a great many comings and goings, in order to persuade Madame la Duchesse to permit Madame de Prie to sup with her. Finally, Madame la Duchesse consented, out of complaisance for Monsieur le Duc, in the state in which he was.”[273]
For nearly two days after the disgrace of Monsieur le Duc no steps were taken against his mistress. But no one at Chantilly doubted that her respite would be but a brief one. Duverney had been exiled forty leagues from Paris; all the Ministers most attached to Monsieur le Duc had been relieved of their functions; Le Blanc and the Belle-Isles had been recalled, and the man who, if he had received his deserts, would have been decorating a gibbet had actually been reinstated in his old post of Secretary of State for War, in place of the honest Breteuil. In such a revolution of the palace, it was impossible for her to escape, and on the Thursday evening the blow fell, in the shape of a lettre de cachet exiling her to her husband’s estate of Courbépine, in Normandy.
Her parting with Monsieur le Duc on the morrow was a most touching one. “She kept up the comedy to the last,” writes the author of the manuscript we have just cited. “Twice after entering her carriage she returned, not being able, she said, to depart without again embracing Monsieur le Duc. She appeared in despair at leaving him, and gave him all the tokens of a passionate love. The prince, on his side, was so afflicted that it is impossible to describe it.”
For ourselves, we prefer to believe that the grief of Madame de Prie was as genuine as that of Monsieur le Duc. It would have been, indeed, strange if it had not been so, since, with all his faults, he had been to her the most devoted and generous of lovers, the truest and best of friends.
The Château of Courbépine, which Louis XV. had fixed as Madame de Prie’s place of exile, was situated a little to the north of the town of Bernay, in the midst of an immense wooded plain. It had been purchased by the Marquis de Prie, not long after his marriage, from Léonor de Matignon, Bishop of Lisieux. At first, she received but few visitors, but when it became known that Monsieur le Duc had expressed a very ardent desire to see her, and had told the Maréchal de Villars that “he himself was the cause of all her misfortunes and that she did not deserve them; that she had always been disinterested, and that the unsatisfactory condition of her affairs would in time prove this,” people began to think that, in view of a possible return of the prince to power, it would be imprudent to ignore the woman who still retained his affections. From that time it became quite the fashion to go and spend a day or two with the proscribed, and the latter never had any cause to complain of lack of company. Nevertheless, she felt bitterly the change in her position, and could not disguise from herself the fact that, notwithstanding the chivalrous endeavours of Monsieur le Duc to saddle himself with the responsibility for their common misfortune, she had largely contributed to it. She saw, too, her relatives and protégés deprived of their charges and reduced in some instances to poverty; and this troubled her sorely. There can be no doubt that, in time, she would have been permitted to return, if not to the Court, at least to Paris and Chantilly; but her health, always delicate, had begun to give way beneath the stress of so many agitations. She demanded and obtained authorization to visit the waters of Forges, but the relief they afforded her was only temporary. In the early autumn of 1727 she met with a carriage accident, and though the injuries she received were not in themselves very serious, they hastened her death, which took place on 7 October, 1727, in her thirtieth year.
Her enemies attributed her death to poison administered by her own hand, and the Marquis d’Argenson has published, in his “Mémoires,” a highly-coloured version of this hypothesis, upon which we need not dwell here, since its absurdity has now been clearly established.
Monsieur le Duc survived his mistress nearly fourteen years. In 1730, he was pardoned and returned to Court, but he never reappeared again on the political stage, and consecrated the last years of his life to the study of chemistry and natural history. In 1728, he took unto himself a second wife, in the person of the Princess Charlotte of Hesse-Rheinfels, who is described as “blonde et d’un embonpoint agréable,” with whom he seems to have lived very contentedly, notwithstanding the fact that she is said to have been erased from the list of eligible princesses at the time of the marriage of Louis XV. on account of her bad temper. By her he left one son, Louis Joseph de Bourbon, Prince de Condé, the organizer and leader of the “Army of Condé,” which played so gallant a part in the Wars of the French Revolution. Monsieur le Duc died on the 27 January, 1740, in his forty-ninth year.
PRINTED BY
WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
LONDON AND BECCLES