Chapter CXIX: Letter CVIII: PARIS, Monday, February 21, 1689

It is certain that we are separated from each other by a grievous distance: this is enough to make us shudder; but what would it have been if I had added to it the road from hence to the Rocks or Rennes? This, however, will not take place so soon. Madame de Chaulnes wishes to see the termination of several affairs, and I am only afraid that she will set out too late, considering my intention of returning next winter, which I must do for several reasons; the first of which is that I am convinced M. de Grignan will be obliged to return on account of his knighthood, and you can not take a better opportunity to escape from your falling, uninhabitable castle, and come and pay your court a little with the knight of the order, who will not be a knight till that time. I paid mine the other day at St. Cyr much more agreeably than I expected. We, that is, Madame de Coulanges, Madame de Bagnols, the Abbé Têtu, and I, went on Saturday. We found our places kept; an officer told Madame de Coulanges that Madame de Maintenon had ordered a place for her next herself; you see what honor is paid her. “You, madam,” said he, “may choose.” I placed myself with Madame de Bagnols in the second row behind the duchesses. Marshal de Bellefond came, and placed himself by choice at my right hand, and before us were the Duchesses d’Auvergne, De Coislin, and De Sully. The marshal and I listened to the tragedy with an attention that was remarked, and bestowed some praises in a low voice that were very well placed. I can not tell you the extreme beauty of this piece: it is a performance not easy to represent, and is inimitable: it is the union of music, poetry, singing, and character, so perfect and complete that there is nothing we wish to alter. The young ladies who represent kings and great personages seem to be made on purpose. It commands attention, and the only unpleasant circumstance attending it is, that so fine a production should at last end. Every thing in it is simple and innocent, sublime and affecting: the sacred history is so faithfully adhered to as to create respect; all the airs corresponding with the words, which are taken from the Psalms or Ecclesiastes, and interwoven with the subject, are singularly beautiful; the taste and attention of the audience are the criterions of the merit of the piece. I was delighted with it, and so was the marshal, who left his place to inform the king how much he was gratified, that he was seated next to a lady who was very worthy of seeing Esther. The king approached our seat, and having turned round, addressed himself to me: “I am told, madam,” said he, “that the piece has given you satisfaction.” I replied, with perfect self-possession, “Sire, I am delighted; what I feel is beyond the power of words to describe.” The king continued, “Racine has great talents.” I replied, “Sire, he has indeed; and so have these young people: they enter into the subject as if it had been their sole employment.” “Ah! that is very true,” he rejoined. And then he retired, leaving me the object of universal envy. As I was almost the only new spectator, the king took pleasure in observing my genuine admiration, which was without noise or parade.[248] The prince and princess came and spoke a word to me; Madame de Maintenon flashed upon me like lightning, and then retired to the king. I answered every one, being in one of my happiest moods. We returned at night with flambeaux. I supped at Madame de Coulanges’, to whom the king had also spoken with an air of affability that made him appear fascinating. I saw the chevalier at night. I related to him very naturally my little good fortune, being unwilling to conceal it without a reason, as some people do. He was pleased, and here I conclude upon this head. I am sure he did not afterward find in me any ridiculous vanity, or the transports of a vulgar country bumpkin. Ask him. M. de Meaux talked to me a good deal about you, and so did the prince. I pitied you for not being present; but how was it possible? one can not be every where. You were at the opera at Marseilles. As Atys is not only too happy, but too charming, it is impossible you could have been tired with it. Paulina must have been surprised at such a spectacle; she has no right to wish for a more perfect one. I have so pleasing an idea of Marseilles, that I am persuaded you are amused there; and I will back the dissipations of that place against those of Aix.

[248] By mentioning the circumstance to which she believed she
was indebted for this little favor of the king, she proves
sufficiently that she was not so much elated with it as has been
pretended.

But on that very Saturday, after the representation of Esther, the king was informed of the death of the young Queen of Spain,[249] who was carried off in two days by a violent vomiting: this has very much the air of foul play. The king informed monsieur of it next day, which was yesterday; great was the grief upon the occasion; madame wept bitterly, and the king retired in a flood of tears.

[249] Maria-Louisa of Orléans, daughter of monsieur, and of
Henrietta-Anne of England, his first wife.

Madame de la Fayette says in her Memoirs, that the Queen of Spain
was poisoned by a cup of chocolate. Dangeau affirms that it was
by an eel pie. Madame, in her _Lettres Originales_, maintains
that the poison was communicated by raw oysters.

Voltaire has denied this poisoning, as well as several others.
It was a system of the historian. But he only confutes Dangeau’s
account, who had said that three of the queen’s women had died in
consequence of eating of the same dish. Against this detail he
brings forward respectable authority.

Madame de la Fayette, who, in the life of Madame (Henrietta of
England), had not dared to confirm the opinion of her having died
by poison, joined with Voltaire in that of the Queen of Spain,
daughter of this princess.

The evidence of Madame (De Bavière) would be stronger if she were
not so partial, and did not show herself so ready to give credit
to every crime. What she adds, that it was two of the queen’s
French waiting women who poisoned her, is very improbable.

She says, however, that it was the Earl of Mansfield who procured
the poison, a circumstance which agrees with the common report of
that period.

In fact, all the letters and memoirs of cotemporary writers agree
in saying that the Council of Spain, devoted to the emperor and
the Prince of Orange, and resolved to enter into the league
against France, wished to remove a queen who was too good a
Frenchwoman, and who, governing her husband, was too great an
obstacle to the projects of war that had been formed.

It is true that such a report, at the moment of the breaking out
of hostilities, can not pass for an historical proof; but it must
be owned that it very nearly resembles truth.

It is said there is good news from England; not only the Prince of Orange is not elected king or protector, but he is given to understand that he and his troops have nothing to do but return: this shortens our solicitude. If this news should gain ground, our Brittany will be in less agitation, and my son will not have the mortification of commanding the nobility of the viscounty of Rennes, and the barony of Vitré. They have chosen him, against his will, to be at their head. Any one else would be greatly elated with this honor, but he is vexed at it, not liking, under any title whatever, to take the field in that way.