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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
It was in the very presence of the dead Scarron that Ninon was
informed of the danger threatening St Evrémond. A lettre de cachet
had been issued for conveying him to the Bastille, for the offence he
had given in writing some satirical verses on the Peace of the
Pyrenees. St Evrémond was very far from standing alone in his
opinions on this treaty carried through by Mazarin; but he was
unapproachable in the expression of them. Biting invective and
caustic wit at the cardinal’s expense were graven in every line of his
couplets, addressed to the Marquis de Créqui. Nor did the mockery
cease at that point; it ridiculed the royal marriage itself, and the king
was furious. This was the second time that St Evrémond had
incurred the displeasure of Mazarin; on the first occasion, a
reconciliation had been patched up, after a three months’ sojourn for
St Evrémond in the Bastille, but this time he was past forgiveness—
possibly, as it has been surmised, that in addition to the verses, he
had given secret offence to the Court—and it was now but a matter
of tracking St Evrémond to his hiding-place; for he had been warned
of the letter of arrest for shutting him up in the Bastille, probably this
time for the rest of his life. He had found refuge in the convent of the
Capucins du Roule; but already his goods and money were
confiscated, and it was Ninon who carried him, from her own
resources, the necessary notes and gold for his getting away under
cover of the night to Havre, where he arrived safely, and took ship for
Dover, never to return to France.
The Majesty of Louis XIV. was as a thing divine; and the faintest
shadow could not be permitted to cross the glory of that sun he
chose for his double-mottoed device. Cardinal Mazarin, now at the
point of death, renewed his counsel to the young king never to let will
thwart his, but ever to bear the sceptre in his hand—in his own hand
alone. So Mazarin, dealing his parting thrust of revenge on the
queen-regent, died in the castle of Vincennes, unregretted by any,
tolerated of later years, but despised by all. Someone made his
epitaph, whose concluding lines were to the effect that having
cheated and deceived through life, he ended with cheating the devil
himself, since, when he came to fetch away his soul, he found he
had not one.
Madame Scarron, after her husband’s death, decided to live in the
same apartments, in preference to the home which Ninon offered her
in her own house. The widow’s friends obtained for her a pension of
two thousand livres, and she continued the old réunions, and soon
recovered from the loss she had sustained; for Françoise d’Aubigné
was ever distinguished by her calm, equable temperament.
After the fête at Vaux, Monsieur Fouquet, continuing his attentions
to Mademoiselle de la Baume, finally asked her hand in marriage of
her parents. They were well pleased, especially her father. Madame
de la Baume would have seemed more to favour another destiny for
her daughter. The king was enraged on learning the superintendent’s
proposal, but Fouquet braved the royal displeasure, and intended to
take his bride to Holland. So the man proposed; but the Fates had
otherwise disposed. Within a few hours, a letter was brought him; he
broke the seal hurriedly, recognising the beloved handwriting, and
when he had read the letter—but two lines long—he sank back in his
chair as if a thunder-stroke had smitten him.