There could not have been a better choice, thought Fleury, for Madame de Mailly was a kindly woman, one who seemed content with the King’s affection, not seeking honours for herself.
After the awkward beginning Louis became more and more interested in Louise-Julie de Mailly. The Queen had never joined him in his ecstasy as this woman did. It was like learning new lessons, each more delight-giving than the last.
To him his mistress was the most beautiful woman at the Court as, in the first few days of his marriage, the Queen had been. She was tall and very slender; her only beauties were her large dark eyes and the legs for which she was already famous. Her complexion was sallow, her features irregular; but she was very charming because of a particularly sweet nature.
Louis had been fortunate. She did not seek honours. Very quickly she had fallen in love with the King and she declared that merely to be with him was reward enough for her.
The King was enchanted, for she was ready at any time to lead him into thickets of sensuality which he had never dreamed existed.
She gave herself no airs about the Court and was always extremely respectful to the Queen. The liaison was ideal and the King and Louise-Julie de Mailly believed it would go on all their lives.
Marie bore another daughter that year; this was Victoire.
The King did not altogether neglect his wife, nor forget the need to add to the royal nurseries. Almost immediately after the birth of Victoire, the Queen was once more pregnant. Marie had grown more bitter, and declared fretfully that her life was little more than going to bed and being brought to bed.
Meanwhile the King and Madame de Mailly fell deeper in love. It was she who was present at all the hunting parties and rode beside him; who sat with him at intimate suppers he gave to his friends.
It seemed now that the King would be as faithful a lover as he had been a husband.
Chapter VI
MADAME DE VINTIMILLE
In the last four years the Queen had become resigned to the King’s infatuation for Madame de Mailly; she realised that, since she must accept his having a mistress of some sort, there could not have been one who made less trouble.
She had her children. Sophie had been born in 1734, Thérèse-Félicité in 1736, and Louise-Marie had just made her appearance. Ten children in ten years; no one could ask more of a Queen than that.
There might be no more. Even for the sake of getting another boy (out of the eight surviving children seven were girls) Louis rarely visited her at night.
There were many who thought she was to blame. But she was worn out with the exhausting business of child-bearing, and her doctors had warned her that she should take a rest from it. When Louis did come she prayed by her bed-side in the hope that he would fall asleep before she had finished her prayers; which he often did. Abstention on saints’ days was a great help; and the visits grew more and more rare since Madame de Mailly was always waiting for him.
Marie had now made her own way of life; and her own little court was apart from that of the King. Her day was planned to a calm and sedate pattern. In the morning she attended prayers and studied theological books; after that there would be a formal visit to the King; then she would paint, because it gave her great pleasure to present her pictures to her friends. She attended Mass and then went to dinner. This she took with her ladies, most of whom had tastes similar to her own. After that she would retire to her room to work on her tapestry or play the harpsichord. Then she would read quietly by herself until it was time for the household to assemble for cards. Sometimes she would visit the apartments of friends; but it was understood that the conversation in her presence must never include scandal. She had grown very religious and gave extensively to charities. Her great indulgence was the table; and her figure, because of this and the continual child-bearing, had grown more stocky; and as she had little interest in the fashions of the day, she did nothing to improve this. Many of the courtiers dreaded an invitation to her evening parties; their great fear was that they would be unable to hide their yawns or, worse still, fall asleep.
How different it was to be invited to join the King! Indeed it was considered a very great honour to receive such an invitation, for Louis, who had always wanted to live privately and enjoy the company of a few intimate friends, had had the petits cabinets constructed. They were under the roofs of the Palace, built round that small courtyard, the Cour des Cerfs, and were a series of small rooms joined together by winding staircases and small galleries.
A great deal of care had gone into the construction of these little rooms, for Louis was discovering that great passion for architecture which he had inherited from his great-grandfather.
Exquisitely carved were the panels, and the walls had been treated to look as though they were made of porcelain. Louis had greatly enjoyed planning these rooms, and they were extremely graceful, with nothing flamboyant about them. The decorations were delicate scrolls and sprays of flowers.
The petits cabinets were like a miniature palace, aloof from the great one. Here Louis had his bedroom, his libraries, and – the most important room of all, for this was that in which he entertained his friends – the salle à manger. So fascinated had he become by these little apartments that he could not resist adding to them; he now had his workshop; he was very interested in working in ivory; he had his own bakery and still rooms, for he had retained his early interest in cooking. It was his great pleasure to summon experts to these rooms and take lessons from them.
Often during one of those intimate supper parties he would prepare the coffee himself and even serve it. It was during these occasions that he was at his most charming – perhaps because he was really happy then. The ceremonies of the Court, which had been such a delight to his great-grandfather, were extremely tedious to him. Therefore to be in his beloved little apartments with Madame de Mailly beside him, and a few friends with whom he could talk, not as a King but as one of them, was his idea of pleasure.
On these occasions there were no formal bows and curtsies; some sat on the floor, the King often among them. There was complete relaxation and all were regretful when the King gave the customary ‘Allons nous coucher’ and the party broke up.
Almost sadly he would make his way to the large bedchamber where the wearisome business of the coucher must be carried out.
Louis had always disliked the enormous state bedroom of Louis Quatorze, and for years it had been his practice, after the coucher, to slip out to a smaller and more cosy room which he shared with Madame de Mailly; but at this time he had asked himself why he should not have his own state bedroom, and such a room had been prepared for him. This room, on the north side of the Cour de Marbre and on the second floor of the Palace, which was decorated by the sculptor Verberckt and in which the bed with its balustrade had been set up, was fast becoming the centre of activity in the Château.
Marie was rarely invited to be present at these gatherings to which foremost members of the Court eagerly sought to be asked. She tried therefore to be contented with her own way of life.
She longed to bring up her children but this was denied to her. The little girls had their governesses whom the King had appointed, and only visited their mother once a day, and then there were always other people present. The little girls were charming – Adelaide was quite pretty and a little headstrong – but they always stood on ceremony with their mother. How could they do otherwise?