The order of strict Cistercian observance is rigid in the extreme—almost utter silence, hard labour, total abstinence from wine, eggs, fish, and any seasoning of the simple fare of bread and vegetables. The earnestness and eloquence of de Rancé stirred the men desirous of joining the brotherhood to such a deep enthusiasm, that many of them wanted to take the full vows at once; but the Abbé of la Trappe refused them this, lest they should not have truly counted the cost of their sacrifice. And not only in this case, but in others the famous reformer of the ancient monastery showed a singular judgment and reasonableness in the ordering of his community. And “his works do follow him”; for still as of old, hidden amid those dark forests, though not far from the haunts of men, stands the Priory of Notre Dame de Grâce de la Trappe, its brethren, spending their time not given to devotion, in alms-giving and healing and acts of charity of every kind.
In England, meanwhile, great if not unanticipated changes had befallen. Oliver Cromwell was dead. He had passed away in comparative peace in his bed. Had his days numbered even a few more, they might have terminated in assassination, for deep-laid schemes for this were hatching. The dreary Commonwealth was growing daily more displeasing, and the English people were longing for the king to have his own again. It was a day of joy indeed to Queen Henrietta Maria which saw the progress of King Charles II. to London. She had some desire that he should wed la Grande Mademoiselle, Gaston d’Orléans’ daughter; but Mademoiselle nursed a hope of becoming the wife of her cousin, Louis XIV., a hope that was not to be realised. Possibly, as Mazarin had said, the Bastille cannonading had killed that husband; but after her long wanderings she was again at Court, and in fair favour.
Louis XIV., without being strictly handsome, had agreeable features and a fine presence, which his pride and self-consciousness knew very well how to make the most of. He had grown from the mere youth into a dignified, courtly young manhood, and the want of knowledge and defective bringing up were fairly well concealed by “the divinity which doth hedge a king.” It certainly always enfolded Louis XIV. “Ah, my dear cousin,” cried Queen Christina of Sweden, when she first saw him, “some one told me you were not good-looking! Sacré-bleu!” she added, bestowing a sounding kiss on both of Louis’s cheeks, “if I had the man who told that lie here, I would cut off his ears before you!” and she still stood gazing admiringly at the king. So there could be no further doubt about his attractive appearance; for Queen Christina was accounted an unerring judge in such matters.
CHAPTER XIII
Christina’s Modes and Robes—Encumbering Favour—A Comedy at the Petit-Bourbon—The Liberty of the Queen and the Liberty of the Subject—Tears and Absolutions—The Tragedy in the Galérie des Cerfs—Disillusions.
Christina, ex-Queen of Sweden, was not more nice in style of dress than she was in the choice of a word to add strength to her affirmations, and “sacré-bleu” was a mild sponsor for the swear-word she really selected on the occasion. The startling force of it, combined with the extraordinary costume she wore, excited an irrepressible burst of laughter from the queen and from Mazarin, and all present followed suit—all but the king, who looked disconcerted and rebukeful.
Christina wore a wig, standing up high over her forehead, with tufts of curls sticking out, all rough and tousled, on each side of her face, which was, however, far from really ill-looking. She had on a coat, which was a cross between a man’s pourpoint and a woman’s cape, put on so carelessly that it left one shoulder half-exposed. Her skirt was not cut à la mode into a long train; it was merely a round petticoat, so short as to afford ample display of leg. A man’s shirt and a man’s boots completed this costume, in which the great King of Sweden’s daughter presented herself to the Majesties of France.
She met the risible gaze of the Court with displeasure, and inquired what they were all staring at. “Am I humpbacked?” she demanded, “or aren’t my legs well-shaped?” The king, with courtly good-nature, threw oil on the troubled waters, and Christina was pacified, observing that Louis spoke like the king and gentleman he was. “And as for you others,” she added to the rest, “mind yourselves.”
Ninon, who was indisposed, was not present at this scene; but recovering some days later, she went to the Louvre, where, thanks to her friend Madame de Choisy, she came and went constantly; and as she passed along a gallery leading to that lady’s apartments she met Madame de Choisy and Christina, who was attired in very much the same manner as already described, but slightly less outré.