The Memoirs of Madame de Montespan, vol 3 | Page 9

certain formula
recited, certain visits paid to the temples, certain acts of abstinence
practised here and there, all sins, misdemeanours, and crimes are

forgiven, and their punishment cancelled." It is generally on the
occasion of the proclamation of a new pontificate at Rome that such
great papal absolutions are extended over the whole universe.
The jubilee having been proclaimed in Paris, the Court preachers
worked miracles. They denounced all social irregularities and
friendships of which the Church disapproved. The opening sermon
showed plainly that the orator's eloquence was pointed at myself. The
second preacher showed even less restraint; he almost mentioned me by
name. The third ecclesiastic went beyond all bounds, actually uttering
the following words:
"Sire, when King David was still but a shepherd, a heifer was stolen
from his flocks; David made complaint to the patriarch of the land,
when his heifer was restored to him, and the thief was punished.
"When David came to the throne, he carried off his servant's wife, and
as an excuse for such an odious deed, he pleaded the young woman's
extreme beauty. The wretched servant besought him to obey the voice,
not of passion, but of justice, and the servant was disgraced and
perished miserably. Oh, David, unhappy David!"
The King, who had found it hard to sit quiet and hear such insults, said
to me that evening:
"Go to Clagny. Let this stormy weather pass by. When it is fine again,
you must come back."
Having never run counter to the wishes of the father of my children, I
acquiesced, and without further delay gladly departed.
Next day, Madame de Montausier came to see me at my country-house;
she told me of the general rumour that was afloat at Court. The news,
said she, of my retirement had begun to get about; three bishops had
gone to congratulate the King, and these gentlemen had despatched
couriers to Paris to inform the heads of the various parishes, inviting
them to write to the prince sympathising references touching an event
which God and all Christendom viewed with complete satisfaction.

Madame de Montausier assured me that the King's bearing was fairly
calm on the whole, and she also added that he had granted an interview
of half an hour at least to the Abbe Bossuet, who had discoursed to him
about me in a strain similar to that of the other clerics.
She was my sincere friend; she promised to come to Clagny every
evening, driving thither incognito.
She had hardly been gone an hour, when my footman announced
"Monsieur Bossuet, Bishop of Condom."
At the mention of this name, I felt momentarily inclined to refuse to see
its owner; but I conquered my disgust, and I did well. The prelate, with
his semi-clerical, semi-courtly air, made me a low bow. I calmly waited,
so as to give him time to deliver his message. The famous rhetorician
proceeded as follows:
"You know, madame, with what health-giving sacrifices the Church is
now engaged. The merits of our Lord doubtless protect Christians at all
times, but the Church has appointed times more efficacious,
ceremonies more useful, springs yet more abounding. Thus it is that we
now celebrate the grand nine days of the jubilee.
"To this mystic pool herdsman and monarchs alike receive summons
and admission. The most Christian King must, for his own sake,
accomplish his own sanctification; his sanctification provides for that
of his subjects.
"Chosen by God to this royal priesthood, he comprehends the duties
imposed upon him by such noble office. The passions of the heart are
maladies from which man may recover, just as he recovers from
physical disease. The physicians of the soul have lifted up their voice,
have taken sage counsel together; and I come to inform you of the
monarch's miraculous recovery, and at his request, I bring you this
important and welcome news.
"For convalescents, greater care is required than for others; the King,
and the whole of France, beseech you, with my voice, to have respect

and care for the convalescence of our monarch, and I beg you, madame,
to leave at once for Fontevrault."
"For Fontevrault?" I cried, without betraying my emotion. "Fontevrault
is near Poitiers; it is too far away. No, I would rather go to Petit- Bourg,
near the forest of Fontainebleau."
"Fontainebleau is but eighteen leagues from the capital," he answered;
"such proximity would be dangerous. I must insist upon Fontevrault,
madame."
"But I cannot take my children to Fontevrault," I retorted; "the nuns,
and the Abbess herself, would never admit them. You know better than
I do that it is a nunnery."
"Your children," said he, "are not necessary to you; Madame de la
Valliere managed to leave here for good and all."
"Yes; and in forsaking them she committed a crime," I