But for any personal career Mademoiselle found at first no opportunity, in
the earlier years of the Fronde. A gay, fearless, flattered girl, she
simply shared the fortunes of the court; laughed at the
festivals in the palace, laughed at the ominous insurrections in the
streets; laughed when the people cheered her, their pet princess; and when
the royal party fled from Paris, she adroitly secured for herself the best
straw-bed at St. Germain, and laughed louder than ever. She despised the
courtiers who flattered her; secretly admired her young cousin Conde, whom
she affected to despise; danced when the court danced, and ran away when
it mourned. She made all manner of fun of her English lover, the future
Charles II., whom she alone of all the world found bashful; and in general
she wasted the golden hours with much excellent fooling. Nor would she,
perhaps, ever have found herself a heroine, but that her respectable
father was a poltroon.
Lord Mahon ventures to assert, that Gaston, Duke of Orleans, was "the most
cowardly prince of whom history makes mention." A strong expression, but
perhaps safe. Holding the most powerful position in the nation, he never
came upon the scene but to commit some new act of ingenious pusillanimity;
while, by some extraordinary chance, every woman of his immediate kindred
was a natural heroine, and became more heroic through disgust at him.
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