Free The Kings' Mistresses by Elizabeth Goldsmith

were realized,” he wrote, “you would be ambitious, and would govern those who govern others. Become Mistress of the World, or remain mistress of yourself.” 20 He knew that King Charles was indulgent with his new mistress and tolerant of her fondness for receiving all who were inclined to attend her late-night social gatherings. The king’s own visits to the duchess in her little house
in Saint James’s Park were frequently even later, after the other guests had left. He would return to his own rooms at Whitehall at dawn. Neither Charles nor Hortense was inclined to jealousy. Nor was the king surprised that his mistress found herself surrounded by men who loved her.
    But Saint-Evremond, an astute observer of men and of royal egos, urged Hortense to be more strategic. When the lovesick Count of Monaco announced his decision to leave England out of despair for the love of Duchess Mazarin, her friend knew that the king would take notice. Hortense responded precisely as her enemies had hoped she would. She took pity on the count, began to encourage his melancholy overtures, and persuaded him to stay.
    This move was impulsive and of course ill advised. She was finally in a position of safety, protected from a forced return to her husband, and she was letting herself be drawn by her love of pleasure into a relationship that could only damage her newfound security. Perhaps she thought that the infatuated king, who publicly embraced his libertine reputation, would tolerate an infidelity with another man as easily as he had accepted her intimacy with Anne of Sussex. Hortense seemed to believe, too, that her connection to Charles II had been somehow predestined and was invulnerable, determined at the start from the moment he had first seen her as a young girl at the French court.
    The strength of their new bond did in fact endure longer than many would have predicted. The king was satisfied at first that Hortense’s affection for the Count of Monaco was not serious, even when the count reversed his plans to leave England, and as Courtin urgently reported to the French court that Monsieur de Monaco seemed unwilling to leave Madame Mazarin. Saint-Evremond intensified his warnings to Hortense. But Charles continued to keep the Duchess Mazarin close to him, even seating her behind him at the opening of Parliament in 1677. It was only when Hortense’s
liaison with the Count of Monaco became so open that the king felt himself mocked that he withdrew his affection.
    In the summer of 1677 Hortense’s old friend Marie-Sidonie de Courcelles, herself newly arrived in London, wrote letters home detailing what to her seemed to be Hortense’s foolish relinquishing of the position of royal mistress in favor of an affair with a visiting nobleman of little consequence. She described Monsieur de Monaco as physically ill with love, and Hortense in “solitude,” having incurred the anger of Charles II. “The king,” she wrote, “was yesterday making loud jokes about it, saying that the service of Madame Mazarin was too difficult. . . . It was killing her husband as well as all of her noble lovers; Monaco is having dizzy spells just like Mazarin did.” 21
    Marie-Sidonie and others predicted after this episode that Hortense would have no choice but to return to France. “She is even more unhappy than I and sees no one,” wrote Marie-Sidonie. But her prediction was not borne out. For a time Hortense made a show of devout repentance while appealing once more for her husband to send her funds. But Charles had not cut her off entirely. He continued to provide Hortense with enough financial support to remain in the house in Saint James’s Park that was dubbed the “little palace.”
    Soon life was almost back to normal, except for the French ambassador, Courtin, who was discouraged and exasperated by his inability to predict with any accuracy what the duchess would do next. He had