Spaniards generally, and especially the King, saw the French courtiers depart with delight. For years the two countries had been constantly at war. The splendour of France had grown proportionately as poverty and impotence had fallen upon Spain. Old ambitions and vengeful hate were not dead, and many Spaniards still dreamed of dictating to the world if only France could be checked. At every step Marie Louise, who loved France with all her heart, and had been forced to leave it, as she was told, to serve its interests, was reminded that she must forget the dear land of her youth and think only of her husband’s realm. It was too much to expect that she would do it, and it is fair to say that she did not try. She was a blithe, gay-hearted girl, in the full flower of youth and strength, not yet eighteen: the pleasures of Versailles and St Cloud had hitherto filled her life, and here in stern Spain, surrounded by sinister intrigues she did not understand, and married to this degenerate anæmic creature by her side, she did her best to play her part properly; but she was French to her inmost soul, and she would not forget her own folk and her old home. The harsh Duchess of Terranova might insist upon the bright brown curls being brushed wet till they hung flat and lank, and might cram the beautiful round bosom into the hideous flat corset demanded by Spanish fashion; but even she could not quite silence the frank, careless laugh, or suppress the triumphant coquetry of a Parisian beauty overflowing with the sensuousness of maturing passion.
During the stay at Burgos, and afterwards, the Duchess of Terranova kept urging upon the narrow, suspicious King that his new wife was a young woman of free and easy manners, entirely opposed to Spanish ideas of decorum, and that he must keep a tight rein upon her. She laid it down, moreover, that the girl must receive no visits of any sort until after her State entry into Madrid, which would mean some six weeks of complete isolation.[[297]] At Torrejon de Ardoz, a few miles from Madrid, Charles and his wife were met by Mariana. The Queen-Mother was wiser and deeper than the Mistress of the Robes; and instead of frightening her daughter-in-law she was outwardly all kindness and sweetness to her. As we shall see in the course of this history, the Terranova way, harsh as it was, was less disastrous to Marie Louise than the policy of letting her go her own way, and then holding her up to reprobation.
Mme. Villars records the coming of the newly-married pair to the Buen Retiro palace, where the Queen was to remain whilst the preparations were made for her state entry some weeks later. ‘Le roi et la reine viennent seuls dans un grand carosse sans glace, à la mode du pays. Il sera fort heureux pour eux qu’ils soient comme leur carosse.[[298]] On dit que la reine fait tres bien: pour le roi, comme il etait fort amoureux avant que de l’avoir vue, sa presence ne peut qu’avoir augmenté sa passion.’
Marie Louise had now no Frenchwomen with her but two old nurses and two maids of inferior rank; and some days after she had arrived at the Buen Retiro she begged that Madame Villars, the ambassador’s wife, might be allowed to come and raise her spirits by a chat in French. The Duchess of Terranova was shocked, and refused. Neither man nor woman, she said, should see the Queen until the state entry. Marie Louise then tried her husband. Might not the ambassadress come in strict incognito? He seems to have consented, and the Queen joyously sent word to Mme. Villars; but Villars was aware of the jealousy in the palace, and before allowing his wife to go, communicated with the Duchess of Terranova. She knew nothing, she said, of such a permission, nor would she inquire, and the Queen should see no one whilst she remained at the Retiro.
Secret means were found for letting Marie Louise know why her countrywoman did not respond to the invitation; but a few days afterwards Mme. Villars went to the Retiro, doubtless by appointment, to pay her respects to the Queen-Mother Mariana. She found her everything that was kind and amiable. ‘Have you seen my daughter-in-law yet?’ the Queen-Mother asked. ‘She is so anxious to see you, and will receive you when you like: to-morrow if you wish.’ This was a great victory over the Duchess of Terranova, for Marie Louise had seen not a soul but the inhabitants of the Retiro since she entered it. Only two days before the Marchioness of Balbeses, the late ambassadress in France, who, though an Italian, was married to a Spanish grandee, had gone to the apartment of the Mistress of the Robes to beg an audience of the Queen. The latter, hearing her friend’s voice, had run into the room from her own adjoining chamber; but the moment the scandalised Duchess of Terranova caught sight of her she seized her roughly by the arm and pushed her into her own apartment again. ‘These manners,’ says Mme. Villars in recounting the incident, ‘are not so extraordinary here as they would be anywhere else.’[[299]]
The French ambassadress lost no time in availing herself of the Queen-Mother’s hint; and on the following day went to the Retiro. The account of her visit to the Queen may best be told in her own racy words: ‘I entered by the apartment of the Mistress of the Robes, who received me with all sorts of civility. She took me through some little passages to a gallery, where I expected to see only the Queen, but, to my great surprise, I found myself before the whole royal family. The King was seated in a great arm-chair, and the two Queens on cushions. The Mistress of the Robes kept hold of my hand, telling me as we advanced how many courtesies I had to make, and that I must begin with the King. She brought me up so close to his Majesty’s chair that I did not know what she wished me to do. For my part, I thought nothing more was required of me than a low courtesy; and, without vanity, I may remark that he did not return it, though he seemed not sorry to see me. When I told M. de Villars about it afterwards, he said no doubt the Mistress of the Robes expected me to kiss the King’s hand. I thought so myself, but I felt no inclination to do so.... There I was then, in the midst of these three Majesties. The Queen-Mother, as on the previous day, said many agreeable things, and the young Queen seemed very much pleased to see me, though I did my best that she should show it in a discreet way. The King has a little Flemish dwarf who understands and speaks French very well, and he helped the conversation considerably. They brought one of the young ladies in a farthingale, that I might examine the machine.[[300]] The King had me asked what I thought of it, and I replied, through the dwarf, that I did not believe it was ever invented for a human form. He seemed very much of my opinion. They brought me a cushion, upon which I sat only for a moment in obedience to the sign made to me, but I took an opportunity immediately afterwards to rise, as I saw so many “ladies of honour” standing, and I did not wish to offend them; though the Queens repeatedly told me to be seated. The young Queen had a collation served by her ladies on their knees—ladies of the most splendid names, such as Aragon, Castile and Portugal. The Queen-Mother took chocolate and the King nothing. The young Queen, as you may imagine, was dressed in Spanish fashion, the dress being made of some of the lovely stuffs she brought with her from France. She was beautifully coiffée, her hair being brought diagonally across the brow, and the rest falling loose over her shoulders. She has an admirable complexion, very fine eyes, and a bewitching mouth when she laughs. And what a thing it is to laugh in Spain! The gallery is rather long, the walls being covered with crimson damask or velvet, studded all over very close with gold trimmings. From one end to the other the floor is laid with the most lovely carpet I ever saw in my life, and on it there are tables, cabinets and brasiers, candlesticks being upon the tables. Every now and then very grandly dressed maids come in, each with two silver candlesticks, to replace others taken out for snuffing. These maids make very great, long courtesies, with much grace. A good way from the Queens there were some maids of honour sitting on the floor, and many ladies of advanced age, in the usual widow’s garb, were leaning standing against the wall.
‘The King and Queen left in three quarters of an hour, the King walking first. The young Queen took her mother-in-law by the hand leading her to the door of the gallery, and then she turned back quickly, and came to rejoin me. The Mistress of the Robes did not return, and it was evident that they had given the Queen full liberty to entertain me. There was only one old lady in the gallery, a long way off, and the Queen said that if she was not there she would give me a good hug. It was four o’clock when I arrived, and half-past seven before I left, and then it was I who made the first move. I can assure you I wish the King, the Queen-Mother and the Mistress of the Robes could have heard all I said to the Queen. I wish you could have heard it too, and have seen us walking up and down that gallery, which the lights made very agreeable. This young Queen, in the novelty and beauty of her garments, and with an infinitude of diamonds, was simply ravishing. Once for all do not forget that black and white are not more dissimilar than France and Spain. I think our young Princess is doing very well. She wished to see me every day, but I implored her to excuse me, unless I saw clearly that the King and the Queen-Mother wished it as much as she did.... The Mistress of the Robes came to meet me as I left the gallery, and I found there the Queen’s French attendants, to whom I said that they must learn Spanish, and avoid, if possible, saying a word of French to the Queen. I know that they are scolded for speaking it too much to her.’[[301]]
In the deadly ennui of such a life as that described above Marie Louise, though she did her best to be patient, begged earnestly that her countrywoman should be allowed to see her often. But Mme. Villars pointed out to her how much depended upon her prudence, and avoided the palace whenever possible, in the hope that the young Queen would fall into Spanish ways. The King also, in his half-witted way, tried to please his lovely wife: ‘more beautiful and agreeable,’ says Mme. Villars, ‘than any lady of her Court,’ giving her many exquisite presents of jewellery, and running in and out of her apartments to tell her bits of news, and so on. But the life was deadly dull; and the gloom within the palace could, as Mme. Villars says, be seen, tasted and touched. Charles had no amusements other than the most childish games and trivial pastimes: his intellect was not capable of sustaining a reasonable conversation, and after a day of stiff monotony, he and his wife went to bed every night at half-past eight, the moment they had finished supper: ‘with the last morsel still in their mouths,’ as Mme. Villars writes.
There was some eager talk of the Queen’s pregnancy before the grand State entry into Madrid; but when that hope disappeared, and Marie Louise began to languish alarmingly in the dull incarceration of the Retiro, she and her husband sufficiently relaxed their surroundings to go to the hunting palace of the Pardo, six miles away, where the young Queen could ride her French horses, and Charles could enjoy himself with a little pigsticking. At length the great day for the public entry into the capital came on the 13th January 1680. Madrid, as usual, had squandered money sorely needed for bread in gaudy shows. At every street corner arose monuments and arches of imitation marble; and all the heathen mythology was ransacked for far-fetched compliments to the people’s new idol. The King and his mother leaving the Retiro in the morning took up a position in the central balcony of the Oñate palace, still standing, in the Calle Mayor; and at noon Marie Louise on a beautiful chestnut palfrey issued from the gates of the Buen Retiro, where the aldermen of the town stood awaiting her with the canopy of state, under which she was to ride to the palace.
Preceded by trumpeters and the knights of the royal orders, by her household and by the grandees of Spain, all in garments of dazzling magnificence, rode the most beautiful woman in Spain, gorgeously dressed in garments so richly embroidered with gold that their colour was hidden, and covered with precious stones, but withal, as a Spanish eyewitness observes, ‘more beautifully adorned by her loveliness and grace than by the rich habit that she wore.’ Her horse was led by the Marquis of Villamayna, her chief equerry; and after her came a great train of ladies led by the Duchess of Terranova, all mounted on draped led mules. As the new Queen passed the Oñate palace she smiled and bowed low to the King and his mother, who could be dimly seen behind the nearly closed jalousies; and went triumphantly forward, conquering all hearts by the power of her radiant beauty.[[302]] But though she, poor soul, knew it not, more was needed than careless beauty to win the battle in which she was engaged, a battle not of hearts but of subtle crafty brains.