The Kings' Mistresses (28 page)

It was a long time before Marie realized what a cynical trap had been laid for her. Lorenzo stayed in Madrid for eight months, sending Ortensia and his sons ahead to Saragossa. It seemed to observers that the couple were working toward some kind of mutual agreement, if not reconciliation. Marie entered into the discussions Lorenzo was having with the Duke of Medina Celi as the families arranged the marriage of Filippo Colonna to Laurencia Medina Celi. The Colonna couple paid court to the new prime minister, Don Juan of Austria, and King Carlos. Lorenzo tried to position himself as safely as possible between the young king and Don Juan's ministry, which looked favorably on him but was itself vulnerable to reprisals from the exiled queen regent. Don Juan's term in power was in fact short-lived. On September 17, 1679, he died suddenly,
possibly of poisoning. By then Lorenzo had left for Saragossa, leaving Marie in Santo Domingo el Real with instructions that she remain cloistered there.

Throughout the winter, spring, and summer months of 1679, Marie would correspond with the Colonna household in Saragossa, keeping in close touch with the Countess Stella there. Marie attempted, at a distance, to take on some supervision of the education of her sons, designating the countess as her representative. “Do not hesitate to make use of the permission I gave you,” she wrote her friend, “and if you don't want to act in your own name use mine, for I very much desire my children make a favorable impression through their fine qualities.”
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Marie insisted that her children receive good instruction in Spanish; she pressed Ortensia for information about who was tutoring them. She wanted her sons to write her in Spanish and noticed when their letters seemed to have been dictated by a tutor who was not competent in the language. “Tell me honestly,” she wrote to Ortensia, “who dictated that letter that he wrote to me? I have never seen anything so contrary to the Spanish style.”
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There is an intimacy and affection in all of these letters, expressed not only for her sons but for Ortensia as well. Marie thought that plans were being made to have both women live in Saragossa, with Marie being granted a residence separate from her husband there. To Ortensia, she said only that she would like to be able to see her, though it is not clear whether the two of them had seen each other in Madrid. “I have for you all the friendship that you could wish,” she wrote, “but it will not be without regret that I leave Madrid where I would be more happy to see you than there, as I don't know how I will feel there and here I am in good health, which is not how I have felt in other places.”
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The two women exchanged gifts, the countess sending an assortment of goods to Marie and also to her serving maid Nanette. “I cannot tell you how I admire you,” wrote Marie on March 18. “Nothing
is more beautiful and in good taste than the box that you sent me and all that was in it. The boxes of soap, the powders, the two agnus dei, the box of whale oil creams, all arrived safely and I send you a thousand thanks. . . . Nanette thanks you also for the punctuality with which you sent her the package.”
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Ortensia had brought gifts with her on the voyage from Rome, and she also sent her items obtained in Saragossa that were difficult for the cloistered Marie to obtain in Madrid. On January 21, when Lorenzo was still in Madrid, Marie wrote to the countess inquiring about her son Marcantonio, who had been ill.

Marie's hesitation about any arrangement that would take her from Madrid was due in part to her sense that her political contacts stood a chance of improving there. The year 1679 was a crucial one in Spain's gradual reconciliation with France, with which relations had historically been more belligerent than peaceful. It was a period of great political uncertainty but also one in which Spain's position in Europe was recovering strength. Early in the year the Spanish had signed a treaty with France. Louis XIV sealed the alliance with the betrothal of his niece Marie-Louise d'Orléans to the eighteen-year-old Carlos II, and the French faction in Madrid looked forward to a period of prosperity and influence. The marriage was conducted
by proxy at Fontainebleau in August 1679, and on January 13, 1680, Marie-Louise made her ceremonial entrance into Madrid. Along with other French courtiers, Marie Colonna was on the balcony of the home of her brother-in-law the Marquis de Los Balbases, watching the lavish parade. The royal entrance was stunning in its colorful display of wealth and military strength. Marie-Louise, mounted on horseback and weighed down with layers of heavy, rich fabric and jewels, passed under a series of arches that had been built for the occasion. It took all day for the different militias, titled noblemen, and liveried squires to pass through the city. Marie watched in fascination, delight, and, like so many others who knew both the lovely sixteen-year-old Marie-Louise and the sickly, half-crazed Carlos, with pity.

In Saragossa, Lorenzo learned of his wife's presence at the festivities that accompanied the arrival of the French princess. He had known that Marie would not be able to bear remaining cloistered as the city celebrated the royal marriage. In fact, he had told her she could leave the convent to join the spectators on that occasion, but he changed his mind. He had obtained a letter from the pope denying Marie permission to live on her own, and he decided that he would use this written document to see that she was placed behind walls that were more secure. He knew that he could count on the assistance of the Marquis de Los Balbases, who was no friend of Marie, though he was adept at pretending to be when it was useful to him. Balbases had known Marie since she had married his wife's brother. Marie's distrust of him was tempered by their long acquaintance and her fondness for her sister-in-law. But now, as ever, the marquis was ready to do Lorenzo's bidding, and Marie somehow got wind of her husband's plan. Not knowing where to turn, she at first simply grabbed Morena, got into a carriage, and rode several times around the city, trying to decide what to do. Marie had been assured by a messenger from the newly arrived Princess Marie-Louise that she would have her support at the court
of Spain. So she decided to ask for asylum from the French ambassador. Marie arrived at his home in a state of great agitation. The ambassador's wife, Madame de Villars, described the episode in a letter to a friend:

Madame de Villars had not seen Marie since her own arrival in Spain, and at first she did not recognize the constabless. But when Marie lifted her veil she realized who it was:

Villars wrote to Louis XIV asking what he should do, and received a curt reply indicating that the king was not unsympathetic but did
not want the lady to take shelter with the French ambassador. When the Constable Colonna was notified, he made a show of exhibiting a similar ambivalence. At first he had Marie sent to a small convent outside of the city, then he went to Madrid and escorted her back to the convent of Santo Domingo, surprising her friends by coming “every day to visit her and talk with her in the parlor, and behaving as gallantly toward her as a lover would do for a mistress.”
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Marie did not know what to make of this. But by now she was familiar with her husband's capacity to keep her in a state of high anxiety, which he proceeded to do for several more months. She could count on the influence and protection of her French supporters and friends only to a limited extent. Even the young Queen Marie-Louise, who seemed to have a fondness for her, had not yet established a solid base of authority for herself at court. In her first year in Madrid, she was preoccupied with the difficulties of adapting to a grotesque marital life as well as some of the more extreme manifestations of intolerance and conservatism at the Spanish court. On June 30, 1680, she had been forced to accompany her husband as he presided over a huge mass confession and conviction of heretics in the Plaza Mayor. The procession included 120 accused prisoners and resulted in the burning of twenty-one condemned for heresy—the largest auto-da-fé ever conducted by the Inquisition.

Lorenzo Colonna's conciliatory behavior toward his wife lasted only until he had managed to finalize the terms of his son's marriage to the daughter of Duke Medina Celi, a negotiation that included securing a substantial financial contribution from Marie's own dowry. As soon as the marriage contract was concluded, Lorenzo returned to Saragossa, leaving Marie to reside in the house he had occupied in Madrid. For a few weeks Marie enjoyed the freedom of visits with the many French travelers newly arrived at the Spanish court, and the particular affection of the queen, who as the court was leaving for the Escorial palace outside of the city assured her
that she would continue to be safe in Madrid. But a few days later, on a chilly October night, Marie awoke to the sound of her doors being broken down by the king's guards, who presented her with orders to go to the Alcazar fortress, in Segovia, to be locked up. Marie fought, grabbing a knife from the table next to her bed and managing to inflict a wound on one of the guards, but in the end she was dragged by the hair to a carriage where Don Ferdinando Colonna waited to escort her, along with Morena and another serving woman, to prison. Marie's friend the writer Madame d'Aulnoy would later remember the outrage that she felt upon hearing the news:

The Alcazar, an austere medieval fortress perched high on a steep crag outside of Segovia, was the most secure prison imaginable. But with the help of her servant Morena, who was with her there, Marie managed to smuggle out letters. She wrote to anyone she thought might be able to assist her: Roman cardinals, Spanish royalty, French family, and friends. In London and Paris, Marie's family received the news. Hortense knew that her own influence with
Lorenzo was nil, but she was the first in the family to write to him in protest:

Lorenzo found himself flooded with similar letters pleading with him to come to his senses. The nuncio in Madrid, Savo Mellini, wrote to Rome that he was concerned for Marie's health. It was an unusually cold winter, and as the nights became colder she remained locked behind the hard stone of the Alcazar. Months passed, offering no new hope of softening Lorenzo. Louis de Mercoeur, the husband of Marie's deceased sister Laure-Victoire, wrote him at the end of December, “I beg of you, do not refuse the moderation that everyone is asking of you and that she deserves.”
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Marie's sister Olympe was more explicit: “Things have reached a point where there is no longer any hope for a reconciliation, which is why I ask you to take a noble and durable position. . . . In the name of God do not reduce her to despair. If my poor sister were to die while she is imprisoned you would never console yourself for all that everyone would say.”
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Meanwhile, in Madrid, Marie's strongest ally, Queen Marie-Louise, could only watch in frustration as her own attempts to assist her were ignored.