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Authors: Nancy Mitford
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feud was that between the ambassadors and Princes of the Blood. The former regarding themselves as representatives of the person of their sovereigns, claimed equal rights with the Princes who, of course, resisted the claim and would not give way one inch. The Comte de Charolais, brother of M. le Duc, and a man of violent rages, seized a whip and himself chased the Spanish ambassador’s coachman out of the
cul-de-sac
, a parking place near the Louvre, to which the Princes considered that they had the sole rights. Then there was the burning question of the
cadenas
. At State banquets the Princes were each given a silver gilt casket, with lock and key, containing their knives, forks and goblets; the ambassadors were not, and considered this omission extremely insulting to their sovereigns. They appealed to the Master of the Household, the Prince de Condé, who was only eight. A Prince of the Blood himself, he was entirely against giving
cadenas
to the ambassadors. Further to complicate everything, etiquette was different in the different palaces. Somebody who was only supposed to sit on a folding stool at Versailles might easily get a proper stool at Marly, and a chair with a back to it at Compiègne.
The four months of the King’s absence would not be too long for Madame d’Etioles to learn the hundreds of details of which these are a very few examples. Her teachers, and she could not have had better, were the Abbé de Bernis and the Marquis de Gontaut. Bernis was one of those men whom every pretty woman ought to have in her life; a perfect dear, smiling, dimpling, clever, cultivated, with nothing whatever to do all day but sit about and chat. He was just enough in love with his beautiful pupil to add a flavour to the relationship. At the age of twenty-nine he was already a member of the Académie française, to which, however, he had been elected more for his agreeable company than for his literary talent; his verses were excessively flowery. Voltaire always called him ‘Babet la Bouquetière’. Like everybody who knew the little Abbé he could not but be fond of him but he was furiously jealous over the Académie; he longed to be of it as much as he affected to despise it.
Bernis was a real
abbé de cour
, that is to say a courtier first and a priest second; cadet of a good old country family, he was so poor that his greatest ambition was to be given a small attic in the Tuileries palace. As he was a friend of Pâris-Duverney, he had already met the Poisson mother and daughter, but had decided not to frequent them. He rather liked Madame Poisson; he said that as well as being perfectly lovely she had wit, ambition and a great deal of courage; but he could see at once that she was not and never would be in society, and accordingly she did not interest him. But Madame d’Etioles in her new situation was nothing if not interesting and when somebody approached him, on the King’s behalf, and asked whether he would consent to see a good deal of her during the next few weeks, he really could not resist. He did go through the motions of hesitating and asking advice; his friends strongly urged him to accept, he had so much more to gain than to lose, they said, thinking perhaps of the longed-for attic in the Tuileries. When he spoke of his cloth, they pointed out that the affair between Madame d’Etioles and the King had been none of his making, and nobody, not even the Almighty himself, could pretend that it was in any way his fault. It was now an accomplished fact, and the plain duty of one and all was to make the best of it.
The Marquis de Gontaut was quite a different sort of person. He belonged to the Biron family, the very highest aristocracy, and was a member of the King’s intimate circle. Nobody ever had a word to say against this charming man; he was a faithful friend to Madame d’Etioles until the day of her death.
Reinette spent a very happy last summer at Etioles. She was savouring the joys of anticipation
cul-de-sac
, a parking place near the Louvre, to which the Princes considered that they had the sole rights. Then there was the burning question of the
cadenas
. At State banquets the Princes were each given a silver gilt casket, with lock and key, containing their knives, forks and goblets; the ambassadors were not, and considered this omission extremely insulting to their sovereigns. They appealed to the Master of the Household, the Prince de Condé, who was only eight. A Prince of the Blood himself, he was entirely against giving
cadenas
to the ambassadors. Further to complicate everything, etiquette was different in the different palaces. Somebody who was only supposed to sit on a folding stool at Versailles might easily get a proper stool at Marly, and a chair with a back to it at Compiègne.
The four months of the King’s absence would not be too long for Madame d’Etioles to learn the hundreds of details of which these are a very few examples. Her teachers, and she could not have had better, were the Abbé de Bernis and the Marquis de Gontaut. Bernis was one of those men whom every pretty woman ought to have in her life; a perfect dear, smiling, dimpling, clever, cultivated, with nothing whatever to do all day but sit about and chat. He was just enough in love with his beautiful pupil to add a flavour to the relationship. At the age of twenty-nine he was already a member of the Académie française, to which, however, he had been elected more for his agreeable company than for his literary talent; his verses were excessively flowery. Voltaire always called him ‘Babet la Bouquetière’. Like everybody who knew the little Abbé he could not but be fond of him but he was furiously jealous over the Académie; he longed to be of it as much as he affected to despise it.
Bernis was a real
abbé de cour
, that is to say a courtier first and a priest second; cadet of a good old country family, he was so poor that his greatest ambition was to be given a small attic in the Tuileries palace. As he was a friend of Pâris-Duverney, he had already met the Poisson mother and daughter, but had decided not to frequent them. He rather liked Madame Poisson; he said that as well as being perfectly lovely she had wit, ambition and a great deal of courage; but he could see at once that she was not and never would be in society, and accordingly she did not interest him. But Madame d’Etioles in her new situation was nothing if not interesting and when somebody approached him, on the King’s behalf, and asked whether he would consent to see a good deal of her during the next few weeks, he really could not resist. He did go through the motions of hesitating and asking advice; his friends strongly urged him to accept, he had so much more to gain than to lose, they said, thinking perhaps of the longed-for attic in the Tuileries. When he spoke of his cloth, they pointed out that the affair between Madame d’Etioles and the King had been none of his making, and nobody, not even the Almighty himself, could pretend that it was in any way his fault. It was now an accomplished fact, and the plain duty of one and all was to make the best of it.
The Marquis de Gontaut was quite a different sort of person. He belonged to the Biron family, the very highest aristocracy, and was a member of the King’s intimate circle. Nobody ever had a word to say against this charming man; he was a faithful friend to Madame d’Etioles until the day of her death.
Reinette spent a very happy last summer at Etioles. She was savouring the joys of anticipation
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