As I mentioned, Oyonnax is a lady-in-waiting to the Dauphine, which is looked on as an extremely desirable position. The Queen of France died two years ago, and had been estranged from the King for many years at the time of her death. The King has Mme. de Maintenon now, but she is not officially his wife. Therefore, the most important woman at Versailles not really, but nominally, according to the rules of precedence is the Dauphine, wife of the King’s eldest son and heir apparent. Competition among the noble ladies of France for positions in her household is intense…
So intense that it has resulted in no fewer than four poisonings. I do not know if the sister of d’Ozoir poisoned anyone herself, but it is generally understood that she did allow her naked body to be used as a living altar during black masses held at an abandoned country church outside of Versailles. This was before the King became aware that his court was infested with homicidal Satanists, and instituted thechambre ardente to investigate these doings. She was indeed among the 400 -odd nobles arrested and interrogated, but nothing was ever proved against her.
All of which is to say that Mme. la duchesse d’Oyonnax is a great lady indeed, who entertains her sister Mme. la marquise d’Ozoir in grand style.
When I entered her salon I was surprised to see my employer, M. le comte de Beziers, seated on a stool so low and tiny it seemed he was squatting on his haunches like a dog. And indeed he had hunched his shoulders and was gazing sidelong at the Marquise like an old peasant’s cur anticipating the descent of the cudgel. The Duchess was in an armchair of solid silver and the Marquise was in a chair without arms, also in silver.
I remained standing. Introductions were made-here I elide all of the tedious formalities and small talk-and the Marquise explained to me that she had been looking for a tutor to educate her daughter. The girl already has a governess, mind you, but that woman is quite close to being illiterate and consequently the child’s mental development has been retarded or perhaps she is simply an imbecile. Somehow she had settled on me as being the most likely candidate this is the work of d’Avaux.
I was pretended to be astonished, and went on at some length protesting the decision on grounds that I was not equal to such a responsibility. I wondered aloud who would look after poor little Beatrice and Louis. M. le comte de Beziers gave me the happy news that he’d found an opportunity in the south and would soon be leaving Versailles.
You may not know that one of the only ways for a French nobleman to make money without losing caste is by serving as an officer on a merchant ship. Beziers has taken such a position on a French E.I.C. vessel that will be sailing out of the Bassin d’Arcachon come spring, bound for the Cape of Good Hope; points east; and if I’m any judge of such matters, David Jones’s Locker.
Although, if Mme. de Maintenon opens her school for poor girls of the French nobility at St. Cyr next year her personal obsession-St. Cyr lies within sight of Versailles, to the southwest, just beyond the walls, then Beatrice might be shipped there to be groomed for life at Court.
Under the circumstances I could hardly show the tiniest degree of reluctance, let alone decline this offer, and so I write you this letter from my new lodging in an attic room above the Duchess’s apartments. Only God in Heaven knows what new adventures await me now! The Marquise hopes to remain at Versailles until the end of the month the King will spend October at Fontainebleu as is his custom, and there is no point remaining at Versailles when he is not here and then repair to Dunkirk. I shall, of course, go with her. But I will certainly write another letter to you before then.
To M. le comte d’Avaux
2 5 September1 68 5
It is two weeks since I entered the service of the Marquis and the Marquise d’Ozoir, and another week until we leave for Dunkirk, so this is the last letter I will send from Versailles.
If I am reading your intentions correctly, I’ll remain in Dunkirk only as long as it takes to walk across the gangplank of a Holland-bound ship. If that comes to pass, any letters I send after today will reach Amsterdam after I do.
When I came down here some months ago, I stopped over in Paris for a night and witnessed the following from my window: in the market-square before that pied-a-terre where you were so kind as to let me stay, some common people had erected a cantilever, a beam projecting out into space, like the cranes used by merchants to hoist bales up into their warehouses. On the pavement beneath the end of this beam they kindled a bonfire. A rope was thrown over the end of the beam.
These preparations had drawn a crowd and so it was difficult for me to see what happened next; but from the laughter of the crowd and the thrashing of the rope, I inferred that some antic, hilarious struggle was taking place on the street. A stray cat dashed away and was half-heartedly pursued by a couple of boys. Finally the other end of the rope was drawn tight, hoisting a great, lumpy sack into the air; it swung to and fro high above the fire. I guessed it was full of some sausages to be cooked or smoked.
Then I saw that something was moving inside the sack.
The rope was let out and the writhing bag descended until its underside glowed red from the flames underneath. A horrible yowling came out of it and the bag began to thrash and jump. I understood now that it was filled with dozens of stray cats that had been caught in the streets of Paris and brought here to amuse the crowd. And believe me, Monseigneur, they were amused.
If I had been a man, I could have ridden out into that square on horseback and severed that rope with a sword-blow, sending those poor animals down to perish quickly in the roaring flames. Alas, I am not a man, I lack a mount and a sword, and even if I had all of these I might lack courage. In all my life I have only known one man brave or rash enough to do such a deed, but he lacked moral fiber and probably would have reveled in the spectacle along with all those others. All I could do was to close up the shutters and plug my ears; though as I did, I noticed that many windows around the square were open. Merchants and persons of quality were watching it, too, and even bringing their children out.
During the dismal years of the Fronde Rebellion, when the young Louis XIV was being hounded through the streets of Paris by rebellious princes and starving mobs, he must have witnessed one of these cat-burnings, for at Versailles he has created something similar: all the nobles who tormented him when he was a scared little mouse have been rounded up and thrown into this bag and suspended in the air; and the King holds the end of the rope. I am in the sack now, Monseigneur, but as I am only a kitten whose claws have not grown in, all I can do is remain as close as possible to much bigger and more dangerous cats.