Soon afterwards this marriage took place.  Charlotte Elizabeth of Bavaria, though aware of the sort of death that her predecessor died, agreed to marry Monsieur.  Had she not been lucky enough to make this grand match, her extreme ugliness would assuredly have doomed her to celibacy, even in Bavaria and in Germany.  It is surely not allowable to come into the world with such a face and form, such a voice, such eyes, such hands, and such feet, as this singular princess displayed.  The Court, still mindful of the sweetness, grace, and charm of Henrietta of England, could not contemplate without horror and disgust the fearful caricature I have just described.  Young pregnant women—­after the Queen’s unfortunate experience—­were afraid to look at the Princess Palatine, and wished to be confined before they reappeared at Court.

As for herself, armed with robust, philosophical notions, and a complete set of Northern nerves, she was in no way disconcerted at the effect her presence produced.  She even had the good sense to appear indifferent to all the raillery she provoked, and said to the King: 

“Sire, to my mind you are one of the handsomest men in the world, and with few exceptions, your Court appears to me perfectly fitted for you.  I have come but scantily equipped to such an assemblage.  Fortunately, I am neither jealous nor a coquette, and I shall win pardon for my plainness, I myself being the first to make merry at it.”

“You put us completely at our ease,” replied the King, who had not even the courage to be gallant.  “I must thank you on behalf of these ladies for your candour and wit.”  Ten or twelve of us began to titter at this speech of hers.  The Robust Lady never forgave those who laughed.

Directly she arrived, she singled me out as the object of her ponderous Palatine sarcasms.  She exaggerated my style of dress, my ways and habits.  She thought to make fun of my little spaniels by causing herself to be followed, even into the King’s presence-chamber, by a large turnspit, which in mockery she called by the name of my favourite dog.

When I had had my hair dressed, ornamented with quantities of little curls, diamonds, and jewelled pins, she had the impertinence to appear at Court wearing a huge wig, a grotesque travesty of my coiffure.  I was told of it.  I entered the King’s apartment without deigning to salute Madame, or even to look at her.

I had also been told that, in society, she referred to me as “the Montespan woman.”  I met her one day in company with a good many other people, and said to her: 

“Madame, you managed to give up your religion in order to marry a French prince; you might just as well have left behind your gross Palatine vulgarity also.  I have the honour to inform you that, in the exalted society to which you have been admitted, one can no more say ’the Montespan woman,’ than one can say ‘the Orleans woman.’  I have never offended you in the slightest degree, and I fail to see why I should have been chosen as the favoured object of your vulgar insults.”