“Oh, my lord! how many virtues you make me detest!”

A line from I know not what play.  The laughter at this may be imagined.  L’Enclos lived, long beyond her eightieth year, always healthy, visited, respected.  She gave her last years to God, and her death was the news of the day.  The singularity of this personage has made me extend my observations upon her.

A short time after the death of Mademoiselle de l’Enclos, a terrible adventure happened to Courtenvaux, eldest son of M. de Louvois.  Courtenvaux was commander of the Cent-Suisses, fond of obscure debauches; with a ridiculous voice, miserly, quarrelsome, though modest and respectful; and in fine a very stupid fellow.  The King, more eager to know all that was passing than most people believed, although they gave him credit for not a little curiosity in this respect, had authorised Bontems to engage a number of Swiss in addition to those posted at the doors, and in the parks and gardens.  These attendants had orders to stroll morning, noon, and night, along the corridors, the passages, the staircases, even into the private places, and, when it was fine, in the court-yards and gardens; and in secret to watch people, to follow them, to notice where they went, to notice who was there, to listen to all the conversation they could hear, and to make reports of their discoveries.  This was assiduously done at Versailles, at Marly, at Trianon, at Fontainebleau, and in all the places where the King was.  These new attendants vexed Courtenvaux considerably, for over such new-comers he had no sort of authority.  This season, at Fontainebleau, a room, which had formerly been occupied by a party of the Cent-Suisses and of the body-guard, was given up entirely to the new corps.  The room was in a public passage of communication indispensable to all in the chateau, and in consequence, excellently well adapted for watching those who passed through it.  Courtenvaux, more than ever vexed by this new arrangement, regarded it as a fresh encroachment upon his authority, and flew into a violent rage with the new-comers, and railed at them in good set terms.  They allowed him to fume as he would; they had their orders, and were too wise to be disturbed by his rage.  The King, who heard of all this, sent at once for Courtenvaux.  As soon as he appeared in the cabinet, the King called to him from the other end of the room, without giving him time to approach, and in a rage so terrible, and for him so novel, that not only Courtenvaux, but Princes, Princesses, and everybody in the chamber, trembled.  Menaces that his post should be taken away from him, terms the most severe and the most unusual, rained upon Courtenvaux, who, fainting with fright, and ready to sink under the ground, had neither the time nor the means to prefer a word.  The reprimand finished by the King saying, “Get out.”  He had scarcely the strength to obey.