attendance on Princesses of the Blood. A horrible scene over the Dauphine’s dead body, between these ladies and the Princesse de Turenne (La Tour d’Auvergne), was only avoided by the decency of Mesdames de Brissac and Beauvilliers who voluntarily gave up their rights. The King thanked them, afterwards. The pros and cons of this affair, hotly disputed, occupied many an idle hour at Choisy. The conclusion was that the Rohans and La Tour d’Auvergnes had won this time, by taking everybody unawares, but must never be allowed to do so again.
The King was getting yellower every day and began to talk of going back to the army. But Madame de Pompadour, who had foreseen this, and dreaded losing him again so soon, had been in touch with the Maréchal de Saxe. Saxe, very intimate with the Pâris brothers, was an old acquaintance of Madame de Pompadour. He was to become one of her greatest friends. As may be imagined, the presence of the King, while flattering in the extreme, was a continual worry and responsibility to the Marshal and he was only too glad to combine with her to keep him at home. He wrote saying that no engagement of importance was likely for the rest of that summer and that it would hardly be worth the King’s while to move again.
So the King invited himself to stay at Crécy. This was exactly what the Marquise had been hoping for; enchanted to have him as her guest for the first time, she went ahead with the women of the party, the Princesse de Conti, Mesdames du Roure and d’Estrades, to make all the necessary arrangements. The next day the King followed with two large berlines full of dukes, including d’Aumont, d’Ayen, La Vallière, Villeroy and, of course, the inevitable Richelieu. Two Princes of the Blood, Conti and Chartres, arrived under their own steam; Lassurance and Marigny were there already, supervising the work in hand. The King, interested as he always was by any sort of building or planning, soon turned a better colour. There were two new wings to the house itself, not to speak of a mountain which was rising in the park – but which, considered rather too bare, was transformed into a grassy amphitheatre – the windmill, the dairies, and the distant views leading to cascades. Plans were also under consideration for stables to hold two hundred horses, a cottage hospital for the village, the removal of some cottages which spoilt the view, and improvements in the parish church. The King sat down there and then and designed a green and gold uniform for Crécy – each of the royal houses had its own, worn by all the male guests. Benoit excelled himself at every meal and the King said he had never seen a better kept house; in short the visit was a radiant success and augured well for the future. Madame de Pompadour saw that this was an excellent way of getting her lover to herself and planned to acquire other houses, nearer Versailles.
The only fly in the ointment, as usual, was Richelieu. Under a mask of grave politeness, Son Excellence continued his guerrilla warfare against the Marquise. Every woman knows how dangerous the great friend of the beloved can be, and every clever woman uses all her powers of seduction to get him on her side. Madame de Pompadour did her very best, she was always charming to him and even supported his ambitions, most unfortunately as it was to turn out. But nothing was of any avail. In his eyes she incarnated the abominable bourgeoisie, the wrong people, with their deplorable
ton
, who were gradually accumulating money and power at the expense of the right people.
Until Cardinal Richelieu had put it on the map, the du Plessis family was noble, but of the very minor nobility. The Duke could hardly bear the fact that he should owe his position to the merits of his great-uncle rather than to his own birth; it irked him all his life. He was not quite sure enough of himself, in fact; and whereas d’Ayen and Gontaut, serene in the knowledge of their unassailable ancestry,
The King was getting yellower every day and began to talk of going back to the army. But Madame de Pompadour, who had foreseen this, and dreaded losing him again so soon, had been in touch with the Maréchal de Saxe. Saxe, very intimate with the Pâris brothers, was an old acquaintance of Madame de Pompadour. He was to become one of her greatest friends. As may be imagined, the presence of the King, while flattering in the extreme, was a continual worry and responsibility to the Marshal and he was only too glad to combine with her to keep him at home. He wrote saying that no engagement of importance was likely for the rest of that summer and that it would hardly be worth the King’s while to move again.
So the King invited himself to stay at Crécy. This was exactly what the Marquise had been hoping for; enchanted to have him as her guest for the first time, she went ahead with the women of the party, the Princesse de Conti, Mesdames du Roure and d’Estrades, to make all the necessary arrangements. The next day the King followed with two large berlines full of dukes, including d’Aumont, d’Ayen, La Vallière, Villeroy and, of course, the inevitable Richelieu. Two Princes of the Blood, Conti and Chartres, arrived under their own steam; Lassurance and Marigny were there already, supervising the work in hand. The King, interested as he always was by any sort of building or planning, soon turned a better colour. There were two new wings to the house itself, not to speak of a mountain which was rising in the park – but which, considered rather too bare, was transformed into a grassy amphitheatre – the windmill, the dairies, and the distant views leading to cascades. Plans were also under consideration for stables to hold two hundred horses, a cottage hospital for the village, the removal of some cottages which spoilt the view, and improvements in the parish church. The King sat down there and then and designed a green and gold uniform for Crécy – each of the royal houses had its own, worn by all the male guests. Benoit excelled himself at every meal and the King said he had never seen a better kept house; in short the visit was a radiant success and augured well for the future. Madame de Pompadour saw that this was an excellent way of getting her lover to herself and planned to acquire other houses, nearer Versailles.
The only fly in the ointment, as usual, was Richelieu. Under a mask of grave politeness, Son Excellence continued his guerrilla warfare against the Marquise. Every woman knows how dangerous the great friend of the beloved can be, and every clever woman uses all her powers of seduction to get him on her side. Madame de Pompadour did her very best, she was always charming to him and even supported his ambitions, most unfortunately as it was to turn out. But nothing was of any avail. In his eyes she incarnated the abominable bourgeoisie, the wrong people, with their deplorable
ton
, who were gradually accumulating money and power at the expense of the right people.
Until Cardinal Richelieu had put it on the map, the du Plessis family was noble, but of the very minor nobility. The Duke could hardly bear the fact that he should owe his position to the merits of his great-uncle rather than to his own birth; it irked him all his life. He was not quite sure enough of himself, in fact; and whereas d’Ayen and Gontaut, serene in the knowledge of their unassailable ancestry,
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