At last, after long negotiations, Maria Théresa of Austria was united to Louis XIV. This brought Condé back to allegiance to France, by the Peace of the Pyrenees, effected by Cardinal Mazarin, one of the few of his achievements which really benefited France. Ninon was one in the gorgeous cortège which proceeded to Grosbois, beyond Charenton, to receive the young princess. It was a brilliant show. The fashions of the early days of the young king had greatly changed since his father’s time, which was so greatly distinguished, at least as far as male attire went, for its elegant simplicity. Bright hues had superseded the black, the beautiful but sombre colouring of the material of the silk or satin or velvet doublets with large, loose slashed sleeves; the falling bands of rich point lace; the long, straight, fringed or pointed breeches meeting down to the lace-ruffled or lawn wide-topped boots, and the eminently graceful Flemish plumed beaver hat. In place of the long hair waving to the neck, full-bottomed periwigs had come into vogue; the doublets were short and waistcoatless, displaying a bulging shirt-front, tied with ribbons to the nether garments, which, like the large loose sleeves, were covered with points and bows; deep lace ruffles drooped from the knees, and only the falling collar, with a hat higher crowned than of yore, but still plumed, remained of the old style.
It was to the beauty of Louis XIV.’s hair when he was a little boy, that the huge, hideous periwigs seem to owe their invention. Nature’s ruling has its exceptions in the bestowal of naturally curling head-covering, and desiring to offer the sincerest flattery of imitation, the French courtiers and the ingenuity of the coiffeurs combined to invent the huge periwigs, which in some sort of fashion even contrived to live through the French Revolution and the Terror itself; for did not Robespierre preside at the great Feast of the Supreme Being in about the ugliest, primmest bobtail wig ever fashioned on barber’s block?
As to the women’s dress in France, it varied somewhat according to their rank. Middle-class bourgeoises wore the scantiest covering out-of-doors on their necks and shoulders; not even in church was their attire more modest. To so scandalous a length was this carried, that it brought on them more than one remonstrance from the pulpit; and Englishwomen, taking as always, their fashions from Paris, followed suit. A Nonconformist English divine published a translation of a French work by “A grave and learned Papist”—possibly the Curé of St Étienne—who reprehended in no measured terms the “shameful enormity,” as he phrased it, of this style of dress. The ladies of the great world ordinarily went with more circumspection in the streets, and nearly always, also, they wore a mask. It was generally made of black velvet, lined with white satin. It fixed itself on the face with a spring, and was fastened with a thin wire, which was terminated by a glass button that could be dropped between the lips, and so disguise the voice. The female style of dressing the hair was to gather it up in a bunch at the crown of the head, leaving some curls to hang on each side of the face; over this was placed a sort of little linen hood, the points of which usually reached to the shoulders. The gowns were wide-sleeved and long-waisted, with a skirt embroidered or trimmed with lace. A small dog was almost indispensable to a lady of fashion. The little creatures were very pretty, generally having pointed muzzles and ears. Women took snuff and smoked, and the traces of these habits were apt to leave their ugly reminders about their persons and dress.
A great many new streets and houses were added to the city. The increase in the number of public vehicles rendered the streets very noisy, while the filth of the ways was indescribable; but this did not hinder women from walking in velvet slippers, or pages and lackeys from wearing bright, gold-laced scarlet livery.
The state of morals, from highest to lowest, was at a low ebb. Vice permeated every class, from the clergy and nobility to the dregs of the populace. Murder and barefaced robbery took place constantly in the streets; the rage for gambling was boundless, and the cardinal-minister made no attempt to check the shameful licence of the green tables.
Yet Paris was fair and brilliant to the eye when Maria Théresa made her entry in the most magnificent carriage of the cortège which occupied three hours in passing. The princess was not beautiful; but her expression was amiable, and her complexion very fair for a Spanish woman. She wore a mantle of violet velvet embroidered with golden fleur-de-lis over a robe of white brocade covered all down the front with a splendid rivière of emeralds, and she wore her crown with infinite grace and dignity.
The fierce light that beats upon the lives of kings and queens was at its fiercest when cast upon the life of the Sun-King. His marriage with the Spanish princess was one of policy and convenience, and as such there have been unions more disastrous. If love played no great part in it, at least the king was true to the dignity and a certain gentle courtesy and good-nature underlying the pomp and extravagant display with which he was pleased to surround himself; and Maria Théresa’s record of a queen’s life bears no startling evidence of unhappiness or discontent—something indeed to the contrary.
CHAPTER XV
Réunions—The Scarrons—The Fête at Vaux—The Little Old Man in the Dressing-gown—Louise de la Vallière—How the Mice Play when the Cat’s Away—“Pauvre Scarron”—An Atrocious Crime.