2018 is here!

It’s going to be a busy year at Versailles Century headquarters.

The most exciting news for me, and hopefully you, dear reader, is that I’m going to spend Easter in France.  I haven’t yet decided how to divide my time between Paris and Versailles — 50-50? 60-40? 70-30? — but I do know that I will have to spend at least 2 days in Versailles.  As you may have realized, I try as much as possible to use my own photographs to illustrate this blog, and I use ONLY my own photographs for the Instagram gallery (@versailles_century).  I’ve already used more than 80% of the photo archive from my 2016 visit to Versailles, so it’s high time to go and take more.

Gardens of Versailles from the roof.  Credit: Wikipedia.

I’d like to spend several days in Paris, where I’ve never actually stayed for more than 2 nights in a row.  My particular focus for this will be on places and things from the reigns of Louis XV and Louis XVI.  Already on the itinerary: the Musée Cognacq-Jay, the Musée Nissim de Camondo, Bagatelle, the École Militaire, the Palais Royal, the Musée des Arts Décoratifs, and the Place Vendôme.  What else should I see?

La Maréchale d’Aubemer, Nouvelle du XVIIIème Siècle, or The Widow of Field Marshal d’Aubemer: A Novella of the 18th Century, posthumously published in 1867, is a novel by the author and memoirist Madame de Boigne, born Adélaïde d’Osmond (1781-1866).   Mine is the first English translation, available here for the first time anywhere.

In Chapter 15, the final chapter, the Maréchale pays a significant visit to her notary.

THE WIDOW OF FIELD MARSHAL D’AUBEMER: A NOVELLA OF THE 18TH CENTURY

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

An Old-Fashioned Notary

A week of waiting had crept by when Mme d’Aubemer addressed a banal question to a new arrival in the drawing room: “What news?”

“One talks of nothing but Henri d’Estouteville’s wedding.”

“Really!” said the Maréchale, smilingly.  “That seems premature to me.”

“Not so much, if it’s to be next week.  In any case, you are better informed than I, since I see that you are in the know.  Nonetheless, when I was congratulating the Marquis, he told me that they’re leaving on Thursday for Caen, where the wedding will take place.  I haven’t seen Henri.”

The Maréchale had difficulty disguising her confusion; a few moments later the post brought a letter from Gudule.  After announcing her satisfaction at finding her grandfather out of danger, she recounted the strange note she had received on the day of her departure from Magnanville, and admitted to no longer being able to bear the uncertainty into which it had plunged her.  She enjoined her aunt to shine a light on this cause of her unhappiness and to put an end to the thousand and one conjectures that were running through her mind one after another and that had almost rendered her mad.  Monday was drawing to a close.  Offering some unforeseen business as a pretext, the Maréchale was on the road to Paris the next morning, quite determined to obtain some clarification.  As chance would have it, she met M Chevreux¹ as she was arriving.  She had him summoned.  He had hardly entered her sitting room when she said, “Tell me, I beg you, what you know of Henri d’Estouteville’s supposed wedding!”

La Maréchale d’Aubemer, Nouvelle du XVIIIème Siècle, or The Widow of Field Marshal d’Aubemer: A Novella of the 18th Century, posthumously published in 1867, is a novel by the author and memoirist Madame de Boigne, born Adélaïde d’Osmond (1781-1866).   Mine is the first English translation, available here for the first time anywhere.

In Chapter 14, the Maréchale, Gudule, and Henri are reunited at Magnanville.

THE WIDOW OF FIELD MARSHAL D’AUBEMER: A NOVELLA OF THE 18TH CENTURY

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Return to Magnanville

Seven months had passed since Lionel’s death; the old Marquis was still grieving the father of the great-grandchildren he had hoped for, and the Baronne her adored son, despite the embarrassment in which he had placed her.  Not only had Lionel had spent all of his paternal inheritance, but she had had to make large sacrifices of her own fortune, to which her daughter-in-law renounced her rights.¹ Gudule thus found herself once again the heiress to the slender means of the Saveuse battlements, but she also rediscovered the warblers and roses of her native mountains, as buoyant and fresh as she.  Mme de Saveuse felt in the depths of her soul a wellspring of happiness unknown to her until then, which made her still more beautiful and revealed itself in her smallest actions.   Since the confidences interrupted by such an unforeseen event, by which Gudule had been staggered, d’Estouteville’s name had passed neither the Maréchale’s lips nor her niece’s, but both thought of him ceaselessly, and the suspicion that the other was thinking of him was mutual.  On the pretext of thanking Mme d’Aubemer for her goodness in asking for news of him, d’Estouteville had written to her and an increasingly active correspondence developed between them.  His letters, like many others, were handed to Gudule, but she handed them back without comment.  However, her aunt noticed that on those days her affection for her loved ones was even more effusive and her gaiety more free.

It was not without keen regret that Mme d’Aubemer decided to leave Saveuse; her long stay there had flowed past like a dream.  Surrounded by attention and affection as she was, the days seemed much alike, but since they were diversified by varied occupations, they seemed to her to be sufficiently full.  She almost admitted to herself that there comes a time of life when monotony is not dullness, but rather repose.  The mountain air was good for her, and above all the feeling of isolation from which she usually suffered was held at bay; with her sister, she could speak of their youth and friends of times gone by; with Gudule, she could speak of her present relations.  The old marquis himself had perfect recall, and, having served in the musketeers, linked his memories of former times with the Maréchale’s more recent ones, who thus felt herself growing younger in her own eyes.  A number of neighbours, some of them rather likeable, frequently joined the family circle and soon enough seven months had passed very agreeably.  All the same, the thought of spending the winter out of Paris horrified the Maréchale.  Such a thing had never happened and seemed impossible to contemplate.  Still, she delayed her departure from one day to another.  The first snowfall brought home to her that she could no longer put off the fatal hour.  She would very much have liked to take her niece with her, but Gudule wanted to finish her year of mourning at Saveuse, and the Maréchale very sadly had to concede that it was perhaps more suitable to do so.

Taking messages for various people, the Maréchale asked her, “Shall I say nothing to Henri d’Estouteville?”

“No, Aunt,” replied Gudule, blushing. “Not yet!” she replied in a lower voice, smiling gently.

La Maréchale d’Aubemer, Nouvelle du XVIIIème Siècle, or The Widow of Field Marshal d’Aubemer: A Novella of the 18th Century, posthumously published in 1867, is a novel by the author and memoirist Madame de Boigne, born Adélaïde d’Osmond (1781-1866).   Mine is the first English translation, available here for the first time anywhere.

In Chapter 13, a catastrophe befalls the Aubemer-Saveuse household.

THE WIDOW OF FIELD MARSHAL D’AUBEMER: A NOVELLA OF THE 18TH CENTURY

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A Catastrophe

M de Saveuse did not return to the Hôtel d’Aubemer until after everyone had retired, and he left in the morning before the breakfast hour.  That used to happen often, but this time the Maréchale took note of it with unease; not Gudule, however, who had much else to think about.  She had passed the rest of the previous day in febrile agitation, and she wanted to appear at supper to learn the result of M Chevreux’s visit to the Hôtel d’Estouteville.  Reassured by an accurate and truthful account of Henri’s condition, she retired early and, alone in the solitude of her rooms, gave herself over to a serious examination of her own heart.  If that cruel morning had bared her secret to the public, it had been by way of revealing it to herself, as well; she had to admit the illusion that she had been labouring under for a long time and was forced to recognize that Henri reigned despotically over her soul.  The more she plumbed its depths, the more she found it filled with him, to the point of forgetting the pain it gave her for a few moments and abandoning herself to the ineffable sweetness of a love that she felt to be returned.  Gudule was not, however, the sort of woman to delight in such languors.  Once she had recognized the ailment, she sincerely and courageously desired to apply an effective remedy.  Drying her tears and composing her face, she entered the Maréchale’s room the next morning just at the moment when, dressed and ready, she was about to leave it.

“Aunt,” she said in a firm tone, “I must go and I wish to go to Saveuse.  At breakfast, let us speak of my journey as an agreed upon thing.”

The Maréchale contemplated her for a moment, and then said with the most tender understanding, “My poor Gudule, how guilty I am for having exposed you to a danger that with my experience I should have foreseen.”  So saying, she opened her arms to the young woman, who threw herself into them, and, renouncing the artificial composure she had arranged for herself, dissolved into tears.

La Maréchale d’Aubemer, Nouvelle du XVIIIème Siècle, or The Widow of Field Marshal d’Aubemer: A Novella of the 18th Century, posthumously published in 1867, is a novel by the author and memoirist Madame de Boigne, born Adélaïde d’Osmond (1781-1866).   Mine is the first English translation, available here for the first time anywhere.

In Chapter 12, Henri meets with an accident…

THE WIDOW OF FIELD MARSHAL D’AUBEMER: A NOVELLA OF THE 18TH CENTURY

CHAPTER TWELVE

A Race Meeting at Vincennes

The end of the autumn saw M and Mme de Saveuse installed at the Hôtel d’Aubemer, and Lionel in the fulness of his glory, having manoeuvred his interests and pleasures to the fore.  Gudule, having been presented at court by her aunt,¹ had obtained a great success there, and everyone who anointed her that winter’s most brilliant star in the fashionable firmament attracted some of the hatred that the Princesse de Montford bore her.  Princesse Simon nonetheless made conspicuous advances to Mme de Saveuse, which were rejected with a cold politeness that was attributed to jealousy over Lionel.  The Maréchale was convinced of it and sought to distract her niece by surrounding her with attention and pleasures.  She hoped to have succeeded up to a certain point, for Gudule once again adopted that serene gaiety and gentle equanimity that seemed to have abandoned her for a time.  D’Estouteville, taking advantage of the new liaison so loudly publicized by Princesse Simon, had broken with her while at the same time keeping up appearances as expected of a well-bred gentleman; he still frequented the Duchesse de Montford’s salon, where he was perfectly polite to her daughter-in-law, but did not set foot in her house and no longer answered her letters.  Lionel was very cast down by all this; well-versed in the sacred texts of gallantry, he knew that he should be full of regard for the supplanted lover now that he was no longer in the lists with him, but no more than Prince Simon did Henri give him the opportunity to put theory into practice, and he treated him with precisely the same familiar condescension as before his great success, not giving him any occasion to play the new role for which he had so diligently prepared.

Even before it had been quite noticed, Mme de Saveuse had divined the rupture between M d’Estouteville and the Princesse de Montford.  She was very consciously pleased for him, and a bit more shamefacedly pleased to see a setback for the Princesse de Montford, whom it was her duty not to like.  As for herself, she of course had no personal stake in the matter, and poor Gudule was even rather pleased with herself and the victory she had won over her own heart when she noticed in the course of the winter that her animadversion towards the Princesse had been allayed a good deal.  There was no longer any question of returning to Limousin, and Comtesse Lionel, encouraged by her mother, resigned herself to her sojourn in Paris.

La Maréchale d’Aubemer, Nouvelle du XVIIIème Siècle, or The Widow of Field Marshal d’Aubemer: A Novella of the 18th Century, posthumously published in 1867, is a novel by the author and memoirist Madame de Boigne, born Adélaïde d’Osmond (1781-1866).   Mine is the first English translation, available here for the first time anywhere.

In Chapter 11, Gudule sits beside an old soldier at dinner.  He has much to say about his adored young colonel…

THE WIDOW OF FIELD MARSHALL D’AUBEMER: A NOVELLA OF THE 18TH CENTURY

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Secret Progress

Country air, exercise, and a manner of living closer to her own habits restored Mme de Saveuse’s health.  She had recovered her bloom, and sometimes her gaiety, but not the serene equanimity of her temperament; she had frequent relapses into sadness.  Lionel was more than ever under the thumb of the Princesse de Montford, who could not have ruled him more painfully.  For two years she herself had submitted to the yoke, having been dominated by Henri; she compensated by exercising an absolute and capricious tyranny over M de Saveuse.  The fact that Princesse Simon’s name came up incessantly in Lionel’s conversation forced Gudule to think about the sorrows that she considered her to have caused her, never without astonishment that such a woman could inspire tender feelings.  This thought came to her first with regard to Lionel, but quickly passed over him to settle for a long time on Henri, whose superiority she made no bones about acknowledging.  These purely philosophical reflections did not alarm her, but captivated her mind, and filled her leisure, so much so that she was constantly occupied in seeking to explain M d’Estouteville’s passion for Mme de Montford.  And yet it was the only thing she did not talk about to Mme d’Aubemer, who, for her part, did her best to hide Lionel’s conduct, and gave her the niece the greatest proof of her affection in sparing no effort to keep this husband, who was becoming more and more insufferable to her, at Magnanville.  One morning when the two ladies were working side by side, lost in their thoughts, the Maréchale broke the silence by asking Mme de Saveuse when her love for Lionel had begun.

“In truth, Aunt, I don’t really know.  I was always taught to consider him my future husband.”

“But, after all, you must have had a pressing reason to refuse the poor Chevalier d’Aubermer with such a high hand.”

“As to that, I can answer more clearly.  I wanted to stay at Saveuse with my grandfather, and never leave Mama.”

Mme d’Aubemer raised her eyes and looked at her without speaking.  Gudule blushed a little.

“It’s true, Aunt. But that wasn’t to be presumed.  And now I’m told it’s my duty.”

She turned her head to hide a few furtive tears, and the Maréchale, sorry to have provoked them, hastened to change the subject.

La Maréchale d’Aubemer, Nouvelle du XVIIIème Siècle, or The Widow of Field Marshal d’Aubemer: A Novella of the 18th Century, posthumously published in 1867, is a novel by the author and memoirist Madame de Boigne, born Adélaïde d’Osmond (1781-1866).   Mine is the first English translation, available here for the first time anywhere.

In Chapter 10, Henri d’Estouteville’s well-laid plans prove difficult to carry through…

THE WIDOW OF FIELD MARSHAL D’AUBEMER: A NOVELLA OF THE 18TH CENTURY

CHAPTER TEN

Foiled Manoeuvres

At Magnanville, from which Lionel had promised not to stir while fully intending to do nothing of the sort, Mme de Saveuse recovered her health and part of her serenity.  The company that surrounded Mme d’Aubemer was more active in the mind than in its outward habits, but the Maréchale’s house attracted very agreeable young ladies of the neighbourhood with whom Gudule rode and took the exercise that is all but indispensable at her age.  She had been in the country for almost a month when Lionel, returning from one of his frequent sojourns in Paris, brought d’Estouteville back with him.  During the twenty-four hours that he was to stay, there was talk of the experiments of a very gifted chemist, a friend of the Maréchale’s who was present.  One question led to another, and one idea to another, until he felt moved to offer a little course in experimental physics¹ adapted for these ladies of high society if he could be furnished with a space to use as a laboratory and enough time to have the necessary equipment brought.  This idea enchanted Mme de Saveuse, and the Maréchale willingly lent a hand.  A pavilion at a right angle to the main courtyard was chosen in which to set up the laboratory.  Two hours had hardly elapsed when the workmen, under the supervision of M Chevreux, were working on adapting it to its new purpose.  D’Estouteville had been among those most ardent to clear away any difficulties.  He adored chemistry, he said, and had shown himself to be at once sufficiently knowledgeable and sufficiently ignorant, according to need, in order to excite the zeal of the learned chemist and to be called upon quite naturally to be his assistant for the course, of which he already had quite a good notion, but during which he would also have so much to learn; thus he would have to spend quite a goodly number of days at Magnanville, seemingly without any premeditated idea doing so and purely for the love of science.  He left the same evening for Paris, taking M Chevreux with him and answering for both of them that they would come back together the following week.

La Maréchale d’Aubemer, Nouvelle du XVIIIème Siècle, or The Widow of Field Marshal d’Aubemer: A Novella of the 18th Century, posthumously published in 1867, is a novel by the author and memoirist Madame de Boigne, born Adélaïde d’Osmond (1781-1866).   Mine is the first English translation, available here for the first time anywhere.

In Chapter 9, Henri d’Estouteville helps Lionel de Saveuse hatch a plan.  Perhaps he has one of his own?

THE WIDOW OF FIELD MARSHAL D’AUBEMER: A NOVELLA OF THE 18TH CENTURY

CHAPTER NINE

Plans for Strategic Gallantry

Hardly had he returned to Paris when Lionel hastened to keep his engagement to attend the exquisite luncheon — to which invitations were highly sought after by all the most elegant young men — that Henri d’Estouteville gave on Mondays.  The habitual guests were a little startled by this new recruit, but d’Estouteville was their king and could be permitted any eccentricity.  The luncheon finished, Lionel expressed his regret at not being able to attend the next one.  He was going away.

“Where are you going?” inquired Henri casually.

“To take Mme de Saveuse back to her mother, but I shall come back immediately after for important business that will keep me here for a long time.”

Henri looked at Lionel fixedly with a sort of bantering amazement that began to embarrass him.  Then, throwing himself back in his chair, he broke into laughter: “You have important business in Paris and you take Mme de Saveuse back to Limousin!  Oh, country innocence!  You are nowhere more evident than in this! Truly, old chap, I thought you were really one of us.  But you see, gentlemen, we insulted his ingenuousness in thinking him so clever.”

La Maréchale d’Aubemer, Nouvelle du XVIIIème Siècle, or The Widow of Field Marshal d’Aubemer: A Novella of the 18th Century, posthumously published in 1867, is a novel by the author and memoirist Madame de Boigne, born Adélaïde d’Osmond (1781-1866).   Mine is the first English translation, available here for the first time anywhere.

In Chapter 8, Mme d’Aubemer begins to suspect Henri d’Estouteville’s intentions.  

THE WIDOW OF FIELD MARSHAL D’AUBEMER: A NOVELLA OF THE 18TH CENTURY

CHAPTER EIGHT

Unavowed Feelings

While returning to the salon, d’Estouteville approached Mme d’Aubemer and said to her in a low voice, “You were hardly generous to lend your support to the strongest in that way.”

Mme d’Aubemer stopped walking for an instant and looked at him with a flash of curiosity by which he was disconcerted, but both of them were too experienced in the ways of the world to let their expressions betray their thoughts for too long.  Everyone was still grouped around the fireplace when the little Rieux erupted into the room.  They precipitated themselves at Mme de Saveuse clamouring for the bourrée¹ that she had promised them.  Mme de Saveuse explained to them that she would play it for them as much as they wanted once the salon was free, which would have satisfied the children if their mother had not come to beg Comtesse Lionel to accede to their wishes on the spot.  Then all the little faces lengthened and tears began to flow; there was no going back, and Mme de Rieux herself opened the piano and her children’s victim sat down to play a bourrée.

La Maréchale d’Aubemer, Nouvelle du XVIIIème Siècle, or The Widow of Field Marshal d’Aubemer: A Novella of the 18th Century, posthumously published in 1867, is a novel by the author and memoirist Madame de Boigne, born Adélaïde d’Osmond (1781-1866).   Mine is the first English translation, available here for the first time anywhere.

In Chapter 7,  the Saveuses join the Maréchale and the Montfords — including Henri d’Estouteville, of course — in the country for Easter.

THE WIDOW OF FIELD MARSHAL D’AUBEMER: A NOVELLA OF THE 18TH CENTURY

CHAPTER SEVEN

Easter in the Country

It was the Duchesse de Montford’s custom to spend the Easter fortnight in a chateau belonging to the Crown; her husband’s position as its Keeper¹ gave her the use of it, not, perhaps, the better to fulfill her obligations to the Church, but the better to avoid them conveniently.  Spring came early that year, and the doctors having recommended a change of air, the Maréchale allowed herself to be talked into following her friend.  The Saveuses were invited to join her.  Henri d’Estouteville was there almost as a resident and visitors did not lack, as many from Paris as from the neighbourhood, which promised some very agreeable holidays.  Mme de Rieux had eagerly supported her mother’s invitation to Mme de Saveuse.  Like all mediocre people, she was subject to infatuations, and her passion for the Comtesse Lionel knew no bounds since, in addition to the advantage of displeasing the Princesse Simon, the Comtesse had by her kindness won the endorsement of the little Rieux.

The chateau’s company was assembled for lunch when the sound of a carriage announced new guests, and M and Mme de Saveuse were shown in.  The Princesse Simon could not restrain a gesture of impatience, but after a quick appraisal of the new feminine arrival, she cast a satisfied glance at the mirror in which her elegant silhouette was reflected and recovered her good humour.