On the disgrace of Madame de Montespan, when the King was forty-six, Madame de Maintenon still remained at court, having a conspicuous office in the royal household as mistress of the robes to the Dauphiness, so that her nearness to the King created no scandal.  She was now a stately woman, with sparkling black eyes, a fine complexion, beautiful teeth, and exceedingly graceful manners.  The King could not now live without her, for he needed a counsellor whom he could trust.  It must be borne in mind that the great Colbert, on whose shoulders had been laid the burdens of the monarchy, had recently died.  On the death of the Queen (1685), Louis made Madame de Maintenon his wife, she being about fifty and he forty-seven.

This private and secret marriage was never openly divulged during the life of the King, although generally surmised.  This placed Madame de Maintenon—­for she went by this title—­in a false position.  To say the least, it was humiliating amid all the splendors to which she was raised; for if she were a lawful wife, she was not a queen.  Some, perhaps, supposed she was in the position of those favorites whose fate, again and again, has been to fall.

One thing is certain,—­the King would have made her his mistress years before; but to this she would never consent.  She was too politic, too ambitious, too discreet, to make that immense mistake.  Yet after the dismissal of Montespan she seemed to be such, until she had with transcendent art and tact attained her end.  It is a flaw in her character that she was willing so long to be aspersed; showing that power was dearer to her than reputation.  Bossuet, when consulted by the King as to his intended marriage, approved of it only on the ground that it was better to make a foolish marriage than violate the seventh commandment.  La Chaise, the Jesuit confessor, who travelled in a coach and six, recommended it, because Madame de Maintenon was his tool.  But Louvois felt the impropriety as well as Fenelon, and advised the King not thus to commit himself.  The Dauphin was furious.  The Archbishop of Paris simply did his duty in performing the ceremony.

Doubtless reasons of State imperatively demanded that the marriage should not openly be proclaimed, and still more that the widow of Scarron should not be made the Queen of France.  Louis was too much of a politician, and too proud a man, to make this concession.  Had he raised his unacknowledged wife to the throne, it would have resulted in political complications which would have embarrassed his whole subsequent reign.  He dared not do this.  He could not thus scandalize all Europe, and defy all the precedents of France.  And no one knew this better than Madame de Maintenon herself.  She appeared to be satisfied if she could henceforth live in virtuous relations.  Her religious scruples are to be respected.  It is wonderful that she gained as much as she did in that proud, cynical, and worldly court, and from the