ces of the Prince de Monaco, and so Charles returned "_a ses
premieres amours_." That phrase, somewhat vague in so far as it applies
to the sensual instincts of a man who did not even believe in
friendship, describes at least accurately that passionate feeling with
which the Duchess of Portsmouth had inspired him. Under certain
circumstances--very rare, it is true--she went so far as to sacrifice to
him entirely her political _role_, and when the question of the famous
"bill of exclusion" arose, she was seen to throw herself at the King's
feet, and implore her royal lover not to rush headlong to
destruction;[12] entreating him to abandon, if it must be so, the
interests of his brother and those of Catholicism, rather than
compromise his crown and life. Such proceeding appears still more
generous, if we reflect that, in spite of the irregular position which
she had accepted, the Duchess had remained deeply attached to her
religion and her native country, and that at that juncture no one was
ignorant that an era of persecution was about to commence for the
reformed Churches of France. Two years later, on the eve of the Nimeguen
treaty, the decline of the great reign was already foreshadowed; the
influence of incapable though _right-thinking_ men became daily more
marked, and the star of the austere Frances d'Aubigny (Maintenon) arose
slowly above the horizon. Conversions at any price were clamoured for,
and no extent of sacrifice deterred the proselytisers from bringing back
within the fold souls of quality, save leaving one day to Louvois'
dragoons the charge of enlightening the Protestant vulgar. The Duchess
of Portsmouth was, together with the Duchess of York, at the head of the
English propagandists, and, curious enough, a regular exchange of
edifying letters took place between the future foundress of Saint-Cyr
and the joyous sinner of the Court of St. James's. Louis XIV., desirous
of duly recompensing the services of the royal favourite, conferred upon
her by letters-patent dated January, 1684, the French title of Duchess
d'Aubigny.

[12] Macaulay.

Thus had Louise Querouaille reached the summit of her rapid prosperity;
but a great turn of chance was at hand, and in a moment she was about to
be hurled from that dizzy height.

Lord Macaulay has graphically sketched the memorable scene in which she
figured so creditably when Charles was struck with his fatal seizure. On
the 2nd of February, 1685, "scarcely had C