Ward of the Sun King

By Mildred Allen Butler

Adrienne is delighted to become a ward of King Louis XIV of France and attend the school for girls established by his wife, Madame de Maintenon. But then the school’s rules change, and after an unjustly harsh punishment she flees. With the help of her cousin Pierre, to whom she is secretly betrothed, she hides in the palace of Versailles disguised as a page boy. Seeing that the lives of the nobility at court are not as glamorous as she has always imagined, she has no regrets when the danger of discovery forces her to escape with Pierre--until, during an attempt to reach her aunt in England, the two are accidentally separated. Not knowing whether he is alive, Adrienne finds herself the center of attention on an English estate where she is pushed toward a marriage that would take her back to France as a lady of high position. Is there any alternative to spending the rest of her life in a society she has come to see as shallow and corrupt?

Illustrated with 17th / 18th / 19th century portraits.

FROM THE REVIEWS:

“A romantic daydream for girls who would enjoy visiting glamorous, exciting court life.... The story, accurate in historical detail ... may encourage readers to plunge further into the era. —Library Journal

“Adrienne soon has more adventure than she wanted. This historical novel will appeal to girls, aged 12 up.” —Best Sellers

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ad Stellae Books
• Release date: Jan 20, 2012
• ISBN: 9781452422695

Mildred Allen Butler

Mildred Butler Engdahl, who published under her maiden name Mildred Allen Butler, was the mother of writer Sylvia Engdahl. She had a B.A. from Wellesley College and an M.A. in Drama from the University of Oregon, and had worked both as a high school English teacher and as a director of community theaters. Late in her life she wrote several historical books for teens as well as articles for scholarly magazines. She died in 1987 at the age of ninety.

Book preview

FROM THE REVIEWS OF

Ward of the Sun King

"A romantic daydream for girls who would enjoy visiting glamorous, exciting court life. . . . The story, accurate in historical detail . . . may encourage readers to plunge further into the era.

—Library Journal

Adrienne soon has more adventure than she wanted. This historical novel will appeal to girls, aged 12 up. —Best Sellers

Ward of the Sun King

by

Mildred Allen Butler

Copyright © 1970 by Mildred Allen Butler

All rights reserved. For information contact [e-mail].

Funk & Wagnalls edition (hardcover) published in 1970

Ad Stellae Books edition (ebook) published in 2012

This edition distributed by Smashwords

Illustrated with 17th / 18th / 19th century artworks

Cover: Detail from Iris by Jean Antoine Watteau, 1719

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Author’s Note

About the Author

List of Illustrations

Illus: King Louis XIV

Illus: Madame de Maintenon

Illus. Two Demoiselles of Saint-Cyr

Illus: Performance of the play Esther

Illus. The School at Saint-Cyr

Illus: Palace of Versailles

King Louis XIV and His Courtiers

King Louis XIV of France

Painting by Hyacinthe Rigaud (1701)

Chapter 1

The first exciting event of my life happened at the Palace of Versailles, for it was there that I found myself making a deep curtsy to our King, His Gracious Majesty, Louis XIV. This was a great honor for me, and I had been coached for hours in the proper deportment by a lady-in-waiting. My feet must be placed just so—the right, forward and pointed out; the left, turned slightly and the leg bent with the weight on my left foot so that I should not fall or make myself ridiculous by wobbling; my back straight so that I could sink nearly to the floor and then incline my head gracefully. My long, full gown was of gold silk brocade with a cream-colored, gathered overskirt trimmed with lace; my slippers were of gold satin to match; and my dark hair was dressed and hung in curls on my shoulders. That was eight years ago, when I was twelve, but I still remember that beautiful gown.

The great moment was most unexpected, for I really had no right to be presented at the Palace of Versailles at all, my father not having been a courtier. I owed it all to Madame de Maintenon. When in 1685 it was announced in all parishes that Madame had opened a school for young ladies and was accepting only girls of noble birth whose families were, nevertheless, poor, my mother was most anxious that I be admitted. The pupils of this school were to be wards of the King, and he would provide generous dowries for them when they married.

I had not realized that we were poor until my mother explained to me that when my father was killed in battle we had come to live at the Château de Ronne on the charity of my grandfather, for my father’s lands had been sold to pay his debts. Though we were very welcome and lived comfortably, there would be no dowry for me when I was of an age to marry. My father, Etienne Lavelle, Marquis de Chacun, was slain in the service of the King and so I was eligible for admittance to Madame’s school. The convent schools, of which there were so many, gave little education except in religion, and my mother wanted more for me than that. Besides, the convents demanded a fee, as much as—often more than—a family could afford, else the girls became drudges, serving the nuns. Madame had narrowly escaped such a fate and had never forgotten it. She was once herself a poor demoiselle and opening this school was the way her kind heart prompted her to act for the good of others like herself. Such a one was I.

For some reason—she said it was the pretty manners my mother had taught me—Madame de Maintenon took a fancy to me and summoned me one day, during my first week at the school, to go with her to Versailles. I was in awe of her, for as everyone knew she had recently been married to the King, though because she was not of royal blood, the marriage had never been officially announced.

As I made my curtsy, I heard Madame say: Here is an example, sire, of the girls I am educating at Noisy [pronounced Nwa-zée] to be gracious hostesses and good wives to the gentlemen of France. Your Majesty, may I present Adrienne Lavelle? She is new to the school, is pretty and refined, and it is for her and those like her that I am asking you to erect a larger building. Turning to me, she added, You may rise, child. You have done well.

The King said: She is very thin.

Madame answered: She is only twelve. She will fill out.

I recovered my balance and stood before His Majesty, not daring to look up.

Then he spoke to me: Come here, my dear, and let me see one of Madame’s pets.

nt forward, trembling, and he put a finger under my chin, lifting it so that I had to look at him. His appearance was dazzling, and I could see why people called him the Sun King. My eyes passed over his elaborate clothes, which looked to me like a blur of gold and amber, and rested on his proud, imperious face surrounded by an enormous black, curled wig which fell to his shoulders. His gaze was keen but not unkind, and I stopped trembling.

"If you can collect more like this demoiselle, Madame, he said, I will build you the new school."

Then and there was born in me a great desire to be a part of this splendid Court. I glanced down the long hall thronged by gentlemen and ladies in costly dress—reds and purples, blues and greens—the whole assemblage doubled by the marvelous mirrors that lined one side of the huge gallery. Doubled, too, were the rows of crystal chandeliers and the windows with their glimpses of trees and hedges, making the space seem very wide as well as very long.

I should have kept on looking forever had not Madame spoken to the lady-in-waiting who brought me and told her to escort me back to the school. As we walked backwards, making our three obeisances, I looked longingly at the scene of fairyland until the door opened and we were ushered out. It was my first sight of the Court of Versailles at the time of its greatest splendor, and the last I was to have for many a day.

I have never forgotten the kindness of Madame de Maintenon in selecting me to be presented to the King. I am sorry that my daring escapade later on caused her so much anxiety. She is a very warmhearted person, though strict.

I had already heard a lot about the size and magnificence of the Palace of Versailles from my cousin Pierre, who had just become a page there in the entourage of Madame de Maintenon. It was not on his account, though, that she made so much of me when I arrived; she could hardly have known of his existence since she had three or four hundred persons, both those of rank and servants, to attend her.

Pierre, who is two years older than I, is only distantly related to me. He is a third cousin—our grandfathers are first cousins—but I have known him ever since I can remember because our families have always been very close, and we often visited his home, the Chateau de Charlefont. When Pierre’s father died, his grandfather, the Comte de Charlefont, whom I call Cousin Armand, took charge of Pierre, his older brother Raimond, two sisters who married soon after, and his mother who died when Pierre was ten years old. Though he is not heir to the estate, Pierre has always been his grandfather’s favorite and it was through the Comte’s influence that he was given a place at Court.

The Comte, Armand de Lys, performed some service for our King’s father, Louis XIII, and a letter from the dying monarch recommended preferment for all the family of de Lys whenever possible. Pierre’s uncle, for whom he was named, did not take advantage of this opportunity. He became a Huguenot and thus forfeited his right to attention at Court, for the Protestant religion was very unpopular throughout France even before it became unlawful. This uncle spent most of his time in La Rochelle, and returned home only when he became ill. He died of lung fever the year before I entered Madame’s school.

I had often heard the story of the strong friendship between the Comte de Charlefont and my own grandfather, and of how the Comte married grandpère’s adopted sister Madeleine. They named their eldest son Raoul after my grandfather, who named his eldest son Armand after the Comte. Grandpère had studied for the priesthood but gave it up when his brother Henri was killed in the wars and he became heir to the Chateau de Ronne.

After that he married; besides his son, who died young, he had two daughters, of whom my mother was the elder.

All this is, of course, ancient history, but I have taken an interest in all I could learn of my family and Pierre’s because of the course in blazonry which was given at school. We were taught this so that when we made our debut into society, we would know the origin and alliances of every illustrious family in the realm and understand the exact rules of precedence, so necessary in entertaining.

From the time we were young children, Pierre and I got along well together. As a child he loved horses, as did I, and later he owned a great many. He was generally cheerful and lively, yet sometimes thoughtful and silent for long periods. At these times he was probably thinking of his whittling, for he could carve wood into wonderful shapes. He would fashion sticks in such a way that they could be put together to form tiny chalets, or farms and wagons—things such as that. He could do anything with his hands.

One day—I was about nine, I think—he gave me something he had carved especially for me out of a piece of chestnut wood from a tree on the estate. It was a little horse no more than four inches long. Brown and polished, it stood on its four delicately carved legs, absolutely perfect. But he disparaged it.

I wish I could have done better, he said. I was trying to make it look like your mare, Belle, but it turned out to look more like a race horse.

It is beautiful, Pierre, I assured him. It does look like Belle. Anyway, you know I’m mad about horses.

I wanted to give you something worth keeping, Rienne, he said. Someday you’ll be married, I suppose, and I’ll be going off to the wars and—well, I just wanted to give you something, that’s all.

I love it, Pierre, I told him, and I’ll keep it always.

I have it still.

*

In order to make application for admission to Madame de Maintenon’s school, my mother and I made the two-day journey from our home at the Château de Ronne to meet the great lady, and she received us graciously. The school at that time was at Noisy, near Versailles, but later the new one, which the King had promised, was built very close to the Palace grounds. It is very famous and is called Saint-Cyr.

A girl must have a line of at least five noble ancestors to be considered for the school, but that was no problem for me since my lineage was well established. A few weeks after our meeting with Madame, we received word that I had been accepted as one of a hundred new pupils, and that I was now a ward of the King under the guardianship of Madame de Maintenon.

Soon after this, and before I entered the school, we were visiting the Château de Charlefont one day when my mother asked Cousin Armand to tell us all he knew about that lady. The Comte was obliged to be at Court often, since it was the custom, though he preferred to live on the beautiful estate given to him by King Louis XIII. Court gossip flows freely, but my mother knew that he was clever enough to distinguish the false from what was probably true.

Is it a fact, she asked him, that Madame de Maintenon was once married to a notorious Parisian whose body was so deformed that he was said to resemble the letter Z?

Yes, that is so, answered Cousin Armand. When she came to live at Versailles she was known as Madame Scarron, but by then her husband had been dead for several years. She became Madame de Maintenon later, when she purchased the estate of that name.

Tell us what you know about her, I begged.

He drew me to him and I leaned against his chair and smoothed his thick gray hair affectionately—he wore a curled wig only at Court—as he told his story.

You must realize, Rienne, that her life is no secret to those of us who have been around her for a long time, but to you it will seem quite like a fairy tale.

I was eager to hear about this grand lady who was the King’s wife, though not the Queen, and in whose presence I had been shy and almost speechless at our first meeting.

Madame Scarron first became known to the Court as governess to King Louis’ three children by his favorite, Madame de Montespan. The name Madame Scarron was born with was Françoise d’Aubigny, and she was born in a prison; her father had been convicted of coining money illegally. Later he was released and took his family to the West Indies, but there they lived in poverty and were glad to get back to France. Her childhood, spent partly with relatives who were Huguenots, was miserable. She felt herself to be a Protestant and it was with great difficulty that she was converted to the Catholic faith in a convent. She detested the convent, and by great good fortune escaped being an unwilling resident for life.

Cousin Armand went on to tell me all that happened to her after that. It was very interesting but I shall only put down the main events here. She had no dowry, but because she was very pretty, some relative arranged a marriage for her with Paul Scarron, quite an old man, well-known in scandalous society, clever and witty, but deformed and thoroughly bad. He was, however, very good to Françoise (it seems strange for me to use her first name), and she was grateful. When he died, she was without support for some time until she was engaged to take care of the