A Popular History of France from the Earliest Times | Page 3

hers, and
the same expression; austerity; bad living, and little sleep have not
made them hollow or dull; that singular dress takes away nothing of the
easy grace and easy bearing. As for modesty, she is no grander than
when she presented to the world a princess of Conti, but that is enough
for a Carmelite. In real truth, this dress and this retirement are a great
dignity for her." The king never saw her again, but it was at her side
that Madame de Montespan, in her turn forced to quit the court, went to
seek advice and pious consolation. "This soul will be a miracle of
grace," Bossuet had said.
[Illustration: Madame de Montespan 12]
It was no longer the time of "this tiny violet that hides itself in the
grass," as Madame de Sevigne used to remark. Madame de Montespan
was haughty, passionate, "with hair dressed in a thousand ringlets, a
majestic beauty to show off to the ambassadors: "she openly paraded
the favor she was in, accepting and angling for the graces the king was
pleased to do her and hers, having the superintendence of the household
of the queen whom she insulted without disguise, to the extent of
wounding the king himself. "Pray consider that she is your mistress,"
he said one day to his favorite. The scandal was great; Bossuet
attempted the task of stopping it. It was the time of the Jubilee: neither

the king nor Madame de Montespan had lost all religious feeling; the
wrath of God and the refusal of the sacraments had terrors for them still.
Madame de Montespan left the court after some stormy scenes; the
king set out for Flanders. "Pluck this sin from your heart, Sir," Bossuet
wrote to him; "and not only this sin, but the cause of it; go even to the
root. In your triumphant march amongst the people whom you
constrain to recognize your might, would you consider yourself secure
of a rebel fortress if your enemy still had influence there? We hear of
nothing but the magnificence of your troops, of what they are capable
under your leadership! And as for me, Sir, I think in my secret heart of
a war far more important, of a far more difficult victory which God
holds out before you. What would it avail you to be dreaded and
victorious without, when you are vanquished and captive within?"
"Pray God for me," wrote the bishop at the same time to Marshal
Bellefonds, "pray Him to deliver me from the greatest burden man can
have to bear, or to quench all that is man in me, that I may act for Him
only. Thank God, I have never yet thought, during the whole course of
this business, of my belonging to the world; but that is not all; what is
wanted is to be a St. Ambrose, a true man of God, a man of that other
life, a man in whom everything should speak, with whom all his words
should be oracles of the Holy Spirit, all his conduct celestial; pray, pray,
I do beseech you."
At the bottom of his soul, and in the innermost sanctuary of his
conscience, Bossuet felt his weakness; he saw the apostolic severance
from the world, the apostolic zeal and fervor required for the holy
crusade he had undertaken. "Your Majesty has given your promise to
God and the world," he wrote to Louis XIV. in, ignorance of the secret
correspondence still kept up between the king and Madame de
Montespan. "I have been to see her," added the prelate. "I find her
pretty calm; she occupies herself a great deal in good works. I spoke to
her as well as to you the words in which God commands us to give
Him our whole heart; they caused her to shed many tears; may it please
God to fix these truths in the bottom of both your hearts, and
accomplish His work, in order that so many tears, so much violence, so
many strains that you have put upon yourselves, may not be fruitless."

The king was on the road back to Versailles; Madame de Montespan
was to return thither also, her duties required her to do so, it was said;
Bossuet heard of it; he did not for a single instant delude himself as to
the emptiness of the king's promises and of his own hopes. He
determined, however, to visit the king at Luzarches. Louis XIV. gave
him no time to speak.
"Do not say a word to me, sir," said he, not without blushing, do not
say a word; I have given my orders, they will have to be executed."
Bossuet held his tongue. "He had tried every thrust; had acted like a
pontiff of the earliest times,