Memoirs of Louis XIV, vol 5 | Page 5

amnesty
granted to those who had been engaged in these troubles. Fearing,
however, that the hatred of his enemies might place his life in danger if
he remained in Paris, he retired from the capital to this country-house
which has just been mentioned, where he continued to live in strict
privacy, even when the death of Cardinal Mazarin seemed to render
such seclusion no longer necessary.
The King and the Queen-mother, who had pardoned Fargues in spite of
themselves, were much annoyed at finding that he was living in
opulence and tranquillity so near the Court; thought him extremely bold
to do so; and determined to punish him for this and for his former
insolence. They directed Lamoignon, therefore, to find out something
in the past life of Fargues for which punishment might be awarded; and
Lamoignon, eager to please, and make a profit out of his eagerness, was
not long in satisfying them. He made researches, and found means to
implicate Fargues in a murder that had been committed in Paris at the
height of the troubles. Officers were accordingly sent to Courson, and
its owner was arrested.
Fargues was much astonished when he learnt of what he was accused.
He exculpated himself, nevertheless, completely; alleging, moreover,
that as the murder of which he was accused had been committed during
the troubles, the amnesty in which he was included effaced all memory
of the deed, according to law and usage, which had never been
contested until this occasion. The courtiers who had been so well
treated by the unhappy man, did everything they could with the judges
and the King to obtain the release of the accused. It was all in vain.
Fargues was decapitated at once, and all his wealth was given by way
of recompense to the Chief- President Lamoignon, who had no scruple
thus to enrich himself with the blood of the innocent.
The other person who died at the same time was, as I have said, Ninon,

the famous courtesan, known, since age had compelled her to quit that
trade, as Mademoiselle de l'Enclos. She was a new example of the
triumph of vice carried on cleverly and repaired by some virtue. The
stir that she made, and still more the disorder that she caused among the
highest and most brilliant youth, overcame the extreme indulgence that,
not without cause, the Queen-mother entertained for persons whose
conduct was gallant, and more than gallant, and made her send her an
order to retire into a convent. But Ninon, observing that no especial
convent was named, said, with a great courtesy, to the officer who
brought the order, that, as the option was left to her, she would choose
"the convent of the Cordeliers at Paris;" which impudent joke so
diverted the Queen that she left her alone for the future. Ninon never
had but one lover at a time-- but her admirers were numberless--so that
when wearied of one incumbent she told him so frankly, and took
another: The abandoned one might groan and complain; her decree was
without appeal; and this creature had acquired such an influence, that
the deserted lovers never dared to take revenge on the favoured one,
and were too happy to remain on the footing of friend of the house. She
sometimes kept faithful to one, when he pleased her very much, during
an entire campaign.
Ninon had illustrious friends of all sorts, and had so much wit that she
preserved them all and kept them on good terms with each other; or, at
least, no quarrels ever came to light. There was an external respect and
decency about everything that passed in her house, such as princesses
of the highest rank have rarely been able to preserve in their intrigues.
In this way she had among her friends a selection of the best members
of the Court; so that it became the fashion to be received by her, and it
was useful to be so, on account of the connections that were thus
formed.
There was never any gambling there, nor loud laughing, nor disputes,
nor talk about religion or politics; but much and elegant wit, ancient
and modern stories, news of gallantries, yet without scandal. All was
delicate, light, measured; and she herself maintained the conversation
by her wit and her great knowledge of facts. The respect which, strange

to say, she had acquired, and the number and distinction of her friends
and acquaintances, continued when her charms ceased to attract; and
when propriety and fashion compelled her to use only intellectual baits.
She knew all the intrigues of the old and the new Court, serious and
otherwise; her conversation was charming; she was disinterested,
faithful, secret, safe to the last degree; and, setting aside her frailty,
virtuous and full of