The House of Noailles—The court of Louis XV.—The Dauphin—The Dauphine—An evil omen—The Queen—The Convent of Fontevrault—Death of Mme. Thérèse—The Infanta—Madame Henriette and the Duc d’Orléans—Mesdames Victoire, Sophie, and Louise.
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ANNE PAULE DOMINIQUE DE NOAILLES was by birth, character, education, and surroundings a complete contrast to our last heroine. She belonged to the great house of Noailles, being the fourth of the five daughters of the Duc d’Ayen, eldest son of the Maréchal Duc de Noailles, a brilliant courtier high in the favour of Louis XV.
The Duchesse d’Ayen was the only daughter of M. d’Aguesseau de Fresne, Conseiller d’état, and grand-daughter of the great Chancellor d’Aguesseau. From her mother, daughter of M. Dupré, conseiller du parlement, she inherited a fortune of 200,000 livres de rente, in consequence of which her family were able to arrange her marriage with the young heir of the Noailles, then Comte d’Ayen.
The d’Aguesseau, qualifiés barons in 1683, were amongst the most respected of the noblesse de robe, but their position was not, of course, to be compared to that of the de Noailles, and Mlle. [162] d’Aguesseau was all the more pleased with the brilliant prospect before her, since her future husband was violently in love with her, and although a lad of sixteen, two years younger than herself, was so handsome, charming, and attractive, that she, in her calmer way, returned his affection.
And a lad of sixteen at the court of Louis XV. was very different from the average lad of that age in these days and this country, a shy, awkward schoolboy who knows nothing of the world or society, can only talk to other boys, and cares for nothing except sports and games. In the France, or at any rate the Paris, of those days, he was already a man and a courtier, probably a soldier, sometimes a husband and father. [50]
Likewise girls at fourteen or fifteen and even younger, who, with us, wear their hair down their backs, their petticoats half way up to their knees, and spend their time in lessons and play, were wives, mothers, court beauties, and distinguished members of society at the French Court of those days.
The marriage took place in February, 1755, when the cold was so intense that the navigation of the Seine was stopped by the ice, which at that time, when traffic was carried on chiefly by means of the rivers, was a serious inconvenience. [51] After the wedding the Comte and Comtesse d’Ayen went to live with his parents at the stately h?tel de [163] Noailles, now degraded into the h?tel St. James, while the vast, shady gardens that surrounded it [52] have long disappeared; shops and houses covering the ground where terraces, fountains, beds of flowers, and masses of tall trees then formed a scene of enchantment.
The family of Noailles was a large and powerful one, and, as Louis XVIII. remarks in his Mémoires, “Les Noailles ... etaient unis comme chair et ongle,” [53] and having been loaded with favours by Louis XIV. and Louis XV., seemed to think they had a natural right to all the best posts and highest honours. [54]
In the family of Noailles there had been six Marshals of France, and at the time of the marriage, the old Maréchal de Noailles, grandfather of the Count, was still living. [55] At his death, his son, also Maréchal, became of course Duc de Noailles, and his son, the husband of Mlle. d’Aguesseau, Duc d’Ayen, by which name it will be most convenient to call him to avoid confusion, from the beginning of this biography.
The Duc d’Ayen, though always retaining a deep affection for his wife, spent a great part of his time away from her. He was one of the most conspicuous and brilliant figures at the court, and besides entering eagerly into all its pleasures, dissipation, and extravagance, was a member of the Academy of Science; and although by no means an atheist or an enemy of religion, associated constantly with the “philosophers,” whose ideas [164] and opinions he, like many of the French nobles in the years preceding the Revolution, had partly adopted, little imagining the terrible consequences that would result from them.
Not so the Duchess, his wife. Brought up first in a convent and then under the care of her father, whose household, like those of many of the noblesse de robe, was regulated by a strictness and gravity seldom to be seen amongst the rest of the French nobles, Mme. d’Ayen cared very little for society, and preferred to stay at home absorbed in religious duties, charities, and domestic affairs, while her husband amused himself as he chose.
The power, security, and prosperity of the throne and royal family of France seemed to be at that time absolute and unassailable; and although of the ten or eleven children of Louis XV. and Marie Leczinska, the Dauphin was the only son who had lived to grow up, the succession to the crown appeared to be in no danger, as he had already two boys, the Ducs de Bourgogne and Berri; the Comte de Provence was born in November, 1755, and his birth was followed by that of the Comte d’Artois, besides the Princesses Clotilde and Elizabeth, who by the Salic law were excluded. The Queen, who was seven years older than the King, was already fifty-two. A woman of blameless character, she had never been pretty, attractive, or even sensible. D’Argenson, writing in 1750, says of her that she was very stupid, made silly remarks, reproved her children for trifles, and passed over serious faults. They were all so fond of eating that Mesdames kept port wine, ham, and other [165] things in a cupboard, and ate and drank at all hours.
Louis XV., at this time about forty-five, extremely handsome, immersed in a life of pleasure, magnificence, and vice, was then under the domination of the Duchesse de Chateauroux, ma?tresse en titre, the youngest of the five daughters of the Marquis de Nesle, four of whom had been for a longer or shorter period the mistresses of Louis XV. That such a father as the King should have had such a son as the Dauphin is astonishing indeed. The author of some fascinating memoirs of the day writes of him, “If I have not yet spoken of M. le Dauphin, do not suppose that it is from negligence or distraction, it is because the thought of his death always envelopes my mind like a funeral pall. His premature end is ever present with me, and is a subject of regret and affliction which I cannot approach without terrible emotion. He was so grievously mourned for, he has been so universally and justly praised, that there would not be much left me to tell you if I were not to speak of his perfect beauty, which was the least of his perfections, and which perhaps for that very reason, the writers of his time never mention.... His face and figure were perfectly formed; and he had, especially in the movement of his lips and the gentle, melancholy pride of his great black eyes, an expression which I have never seen unless perhaps in some old picture of the Spanish school ... he might have been an archangel of Murillo.... He carried with him the happiness of France and the peace of the world, but one felt that it would have [166] been perfect happiness, and that one would never experience it. The subjects, perhaps the family of the King his father had provoked such terrible chastisements, that we may sorrowfully say that France and the French of the eighteenth century were not worthy to be ruled by the Dauphin Louis.” [56]
Of the Dauphine, Marie-Josèphe de Saxe, as well as of his father, their son the Comte de Provence, afterwards Louis XVIII., writes in his Memoirs as follows: “His pure soul could not rest on this earth, his crown was not of this world, and he died young. France had to mourn the premature death of a prince, who, if he had lived might perhaps have saved the kingdom from the catastrophe of a blood-stained revolution, and his family from exile and the scaffold.
“My mother, worthy to be the wife of the Dauphin ... was, like him, good, pious, indulgent, ............