Chapter V · (continued 2)
Reading edition
Louis XIV. was again popular, a transient popularity which lasted only a few days. "It may be said that not only the Court, but the entire kingdom has rejoiced in the rupture of the proposed marriage."[261] The sentiment of approval was unanimous. As to the Princess, who was guilty of asserting the right to "personal happiness," opinion judged her severely. The seventeenth century did not admit, as has been seen, that individual sentiments or the interests of the heart could predominate over the exactions of rank or society, and the age of the lovers and disparity of their appearance, she so tall, he almost a dwarf, aroused ridicule instead of sympathy. The Grande Mademoiselle was suddenly rewarded "with contempt," "for," says La Fare, "if this contemplated alliance appeared extraordinary as soon as the news was made public, it became ridiculous as soon as it was broken."
It is agreeable to meet among these people, who were right in the main, but who were malicious and uncharitable, one good Samaritan.
While Mme. de Sévigné wrote gaily, "All is finished,"[262] the tears of Mademoiselle inspired kind and courageous words from a person comparatively obscure, and who excused herself from corresponding because she did not have enough "wit." A letter, dated January 21, 1671, addressed to Bussy-Rabutin by Mme. de Scudéry, sister-in-law of the illustrious Madeleine, contains this paragraph:
I will say nothing of the affair of Mademoiselle. You are no doubt acquainted with all that has passed. I will only add that, if you realise what a great passion can be, in the heart of a pure woman like the Princess, you will not wonder, but will have sympathy. For myself, who know nothing of love through experience, I comprehend that Mademoiselle is much to be pitied; for she has become sleepless. During the day she is agitated and weeps, and in fact is leading the most miserable existence possible.[263]
Bussy-Rabutin replied (A Chaseu, January 29, 1671):
I comprehend what passion means in a woman of the age and temperament of Mademoiselle, who has preserved her heart hitherto untouched, and I confess that this tale arouses my pity. Love seems to me a malady like the small-pox; the later it attacks the victim, the more severe the illness.
The writer had indeed well understood the characteristics of late love on only its displeasing side. But his attitude was, unfortunately, the one adopted by almost every one.
Regarded half-pityingly, but with an undercurrent of ridicule, the Grande Mademoiselle ceased to be interesting to the fickle French public. The fall from favour was very definite. The heroine of the Fronde was effaced in the eyes of contemporaries, and remained only a ridiculous old maid, whose woes amused the gallery.