CHAPTER XXXVII

The Universal Jubilee.—­Court Preachers.—­King David.—­Madame de Montespan is Obliged to go to Clagny.—­Bossuet’s Mission.—­Mademoiselle de Mauleon.—­An Enemy’s Good Faith.

I do not desire to hold up to ridicule the rites of that religion in which I was born and bred.  Neither would I disparage its ancient usages, nor its far more modern laws.  All religions, as I know, have their peculiarities, all nations their contradictions, but I must be suffered to complain of the abuse sometimes made in our country of clerical and priestly authority.

A general jubilee was held soon after the birth of my second son, and among Christian nations like ours, a jubilee is as if one said, “Now all statutes, divine and earthly, are repealed; by means of certain formula recited, certain visits paid to the temples, certain acts of abstinence practised here and there, all sins, misdemeanours, and crimes are forgiven, and their punishment cancelled.”  It is generally on the occasion of the proclamation of a new pontificate at Rome that such great papal absolutions are extended over the whole universe.

The jubilee having been proclaimed in Paris, the Court preachers worked miracles.  They denounced all social irregularities and friendships of which the Church disapproved.  The opening sermon showed plainly that the orator’s eloquence was pointed at myself.  The second preacher showed even less restraint; he almost mentioned me by name.  The third ecclesiastic went beyond all bounds, actually uttering the following words: 

“Sire, when King David was still but a shepherd, a heifer was stolen from his flocks; David made complaint to the patriarch of the land, when his heifer was restored to him, and the thief was punished.

“When David came to the throne, he carried off his servant’s wife, and as an excuse for such an odious deed, he pleaded the young woman’s extreme beauty.  The wretched servant besought him to obey the voice, not of passion, but of justice, and the servant was disgraced and perished miserably.  Oh, David, unhappy David!”

The King, who had found it hard to sit quiet and hear such insults, said to me that evening: 

“Go to Clagny.  Let this stormy weather pass by.  When it is fine again, you must come back.”

Having never run counter to the wishes of the father of my children, I acquiesced, and without further delay gladly departed.

Next day, Madame de Montausier came to see me at my country-house; she told me of the general rumour that was afloat at Court.  The news, said she, of my retirement had begun to get about; three bishops had gone to congratulate the King, and these gentlemen had despatched couriers to Paris to inform the heads of the various parishes, inviting them to write to the prince sympathising references touching an event which God and all Christendom viewed with complete satisfaction.