The Tragic Decline of the Comte de La Vauguyon

On 29 November 1693, Louis XIV was informed of the tragic suicide of one of his courtiers: the Comte de La Vauguyon. The incident was related in a rather casual manner by the Duc de Saint-Simon in his memoirs. However, Saint-Simon made it clear that the gunshots in his throat was of "less surprise than interest" due to the Comte's obviously declining mental health.

For years, André de Béthoulat, Comte de La Vauguyon had suffered a steady decline. Being unfortunately poor in finances, he possessed several traits necessary to make a successful career at court. Gallantry (highly prized by Louis XIV himself) was one, a good singing voice and the good fortune of enjoying the favours of Madame de Beauvais. She was the one who had allegedly "initiated" Louis XIV into life's more sensual pleasures for which she was generally respected and treated remarkably well by the king.

Saint-Simon attributed the seemingly good career of La Vauguyon to his mistress' favour with the king; the duke never seems to have considered that perhaps the king also liked La Vauguyon for his own sake. Either way, on the outside, La Vauguyon was doing quite well for himself at court. After several stints abroad as ambassador (a post which in itself required a certain degree of trust from the king) he was made councillor of state before finally being awarded the knighthood.

Yet, then followed a period of nothing - no appointments, no favours, no positions. This left him in a dire financial situation which Saint-Simon attributed to his increasingly odd behaviour. In other words, the duke argued that La Vauguyon's failing fortunes had literally made him lose his mind.

Thanks to Saint-Simon, we know of some of the odd incidents leading up to the tragic conclusion in 1693. La Vauguyon seems to have been overcome by episodes of extreme and unprovoked anger. One episode was said to have occurred at the house of Madame Pelot, the wife of the President of the Rouen Parliament. The party had been playing in the gambling room when the hostess gently teased him about the game. He allegedly waited until the remaining company had left before attacking poor Madame Pelot, pinning her against the wall and threatening to bash her skull in. According to Saint-Simon, she had only mentioned it after his death but it had been noticed that after that evening, she was never alone with him again. However, it seems remarkable that she would never say anything to anyone - after all, she had been attacked in her own home.

Another incidence of such unprovoked rancor occured at Fontainebleau in October 1691 when he passed the Prince de Courtenay, a gentleman with whom he had never had an issue before. Yet on that day, La Vauguyon suddenly drew his sword in such a threatening manner that Courtenay was obliged to do the same. Drawing one's weapon within the king's residence was a massive mistake - it could easily result in either exile or downright imprisonment. Passers-by managed to prevent further escalation but not before La Vauguyon turned on his heel and bolted away. 

He headed straight for the king's apartment where he forced his way past the usher who desperately tried keeping him away. Finally, he literally broke into the king's private chamber where the king - somewhat startled, one might imagine - demanded to know what was happening. Thus, La Vauguyon threw himself to the ground and insisted that M. de Courtenay had grievously insulted him and he had therefore had no choice but to draw his weapon. Understandably, Courtenay claimed the same and both were sent to the Bastille for a short while. The king was greatly disturbed by the incident and even ordered an investigation into the matter. It was up to the Prévôt d'Hôtel to ensure the safety of the court - consequently, he was put in charge. The feuding pair was released in July 1692.

Having been granted permission to return to court, La Vauguyon was considered with a wary eye by his fellow courtiers. If they were hoping for another bizarre incident, they were soon satisfied. Being free from the Bastille, La Vauguyon soon convinced himself that he had somehow angered the king beyond reason. In October 1692 (a year after his would-be duel) he happened to pass by a servant of the Prince de Condé who was walking the prince's horse. Having ascertained whom the horse belonged to, La Vauguyon claimed that the prince would not object to his lending it before jumping onto its back and riding off - poor servant, he must have been both utterly confused and somewhat fearful of his employer's reaction.

Where was La Vauguyon going? He headed straight for Paris, more precisely the Bastille. Having convinced himself of the king's ire, he had apparently decided to hand himself in. Consequently, he approached the governor of the prison and demanded to be locked away as he expected the king's anger to conduct him there anyhow. Taken aback, the governor checked his papers and found no order for the confinement of La Vauguyon and declined to imprison him. It took a remarkable effort on the governor's behalf to make La Vauguyon leave and they agreed initially that La Vauguyon would retire to his house while the governor investigated. Thus, sending a quick messenger to Versailles, the king confirmed that no arrest had been ordered and the "house arrest" was lifted.

Meanwhile, the king continued to allow La Vauguyon at court. Clearly, the man was suffering from some sort of mental disorder which unfortunately rendered him quite unpredictable. Upon the death of his wife, he appeared to go completely over the edge. Insisting on traveling with loaded pistols - not for safety, mind you - he frequently drew them and aimed at his own servants before calmly putting them away again.

By this point, his finances were said to be entirely dreadful. Saint-Simon, for one, was sure that he would never have survived without the assistance of both M. de Beauvais (Madame de Beauvais' son) and the king's own charity. While the king continued to treat him with kindness, he also withheld any means of improving La Vauguyon's situation. According to the Marquis de Sourches, he had requested to be sent as ambassador to Sweden which would provide him with both a fixed wage and honorable employment. However, the king refused which prompted La Vauguyon to lament that he was being sabotaged - not by the king, but by others who rendered him "bad service", i.e. bad-mouthing him to the king.

Interestingly, these incidents are not the first oddities concerning the Comte. Years earlier, the Marquis de Sourches casually remarked that La Vauguyon was being recalled from his position as ambassador to Vienna due to "great inconveniences". The wording is tantalizingly vague. Were these inconveniences financial in nature? Perhaps La Vauguyon's finances were already so disturbed as to prevent him doing his job properly. However, it is worth considering whether La Vauguyon was already exhibiting odd behavior. Obviously, he was not already plagued by the outbursts of his later years, as this would undoubtedly have been reported elsewhere. 

The end was the tragic suicide of La Vauguyon in November 1693. It is interesting to speculate what exactly led him to such a desperate act?

He might have been utterly depressed at his situation - penniless with no prospects of gaining employment or receiving aid from the king. Given that his behaviour seem to have gotten worse after the death of his wife, it is not unlikely that her loss only furthered his spiral into depression.

Desparation and frustration could also explain the odd outbursts of violence but there is another element which warrants consideration: early dementia.

La Vauguyon was 63 when he committed suicide. Every odd incident had occurred within a few years previously which indicates that he had not always been prone to the behaviour he was suddenly showcasing. Changed personality, confusion, mood changes, depression - all are symptoms of early dementia. The phrasing of the Marquis de Dangeau is worth noticing. When La Vauguyon was informed that he would, in fact, not be going to Sweden, he "fell into such a fit of despair, that he became rather deranged". The following day, Dangeau reported that he had "recovered his senses". The choice of words could indicate that La Vauguyon was experiencing an episode of some king. 

Furthermore, Louis XIV was notoriously prickly when it came to his honour. The fact that he never considered La Vauguyon's odd outbursts - even when directed at the king's behaviour - to be an affront could indicate that the king saw fit to treat La Vauguyon with more kindness and consideration than usual.

Whether or not La Vauguyon suffered from dementia or succumbed to depression, it is difficult not to sympathise with him. Either way, he was clearly suffering from a horrible mental health crisis - potentially worsened by the pressure of his awful financial situation - which eventually cost him his life.

The Only Protestant Lord in France: The Persecution of the Duc de La Force

Jacques Nompar de Caumont, Duc de La Force, was said to be "le seul grand seigneur huguenot" - the only great, Huguenot lord in France. As a duke and peer, Jacques was definitely a grand lord - he was also a Protestant.

Protestantism had not entirely passed by France which otherwise remained staunchly catholic. Few of the aristocrats had adopted the new religion but they were far outnumbered. Until the 1680's this divergence was treated rather as the proverbial elephant in the room - not to be acknowledged. However, when Louis XIV revoked the Edict of Nantes in October 1685 spelled disaster for Protestants within France.

Established as so-called "irrevocable law" (ironic, considering that it not even last a century), the Edict of Nantes had established fundamental rights for Protestants within France. Catholicism was acknowledged as the state religion but Protestants were ensured their freedom of religion. Yet, with the stroke of a pen, Louis XIV made Protestantism illegal - those practicing were given a dire ultimatum: convert to Catholicism or leave France (and everything you have). 

Whereas thousands of commoners found themselves in a downright deadly situation - with evidence of some being tortured into conversion or facing starvation as a result of having to abandon every earthly belonging - the courtiers were not in direct peril.

Jacques Nompar, for one, was somewhat protected by his status as a duke and peer - or so he might have thought. Attempts were made to make Jacques willingly convert - civilised conversation, gentle prodding etc. etc. However, two factors made the conversion almost impossible. For one, Jacques Nompar does not appear to have had any particular, personal interest in religion. While there is little doubt that he did believe in god, the finer mechanisms of Protestantism versus Catholicism were far more open to discussion than for most of his contemporaries. One of those contemporaries also makes up the second factor. His second wife (and mother of his sons) was an intensely Protestant woman whose devotion to her faith made even the king's attempts to convert her utterly useless. The fact that the two enjoyed a close relationship certainly heightened the influence her conviction had on her more pliable husband.

Fanatical, Jacques certain was not, yet his refusal to simply obey and convert was a sore spot for the king. Having attempted the gentle approach, the king had enough of his "obstinacy" and decided that if the duke could not be persuaded, he could be forced.

On 22 April 1685 (mind you, before the official revocation of the Edict of Nantes), the Duc de La Force was arrested by the king's police while staying in Paris. As befit his rank, he was escorted to the Bastille. There, he was subjected to immense pressure with the background of the royal fortress to remind him of his position. To convince him of the errors of his ways, the king appointed M. Bordes who was in for a long and tiring mental battle. In the end, the duke remained steadfast - he would not convert.

Meanwhile, if the duke was determined not to convert, the king was determined not to release him until he did. Thus, two years later, Jacques Nompar was still imprisoned. He had been placed under the care of the Duc de Duras who could eventually report to the king that his charge was seriously ill. Whether the illness was a matter of chance or the result of misuse is not known. Realising that he might die in prison, Jacques Nompar gave the king the conversion he wanted - on paper, at least.

For his compliance, he was released into the care of his wife. She, too, was a staunch Protestant, but had remained out of prison although the king had tried to force her into a conversion, too. Suzanne de Béringhen (as was her name) was described as being even more determined in her faith than her husband and she undoubtedly supported his return to Protestantism. It says something of her faith that her husband was considered a reasonable target for "persuasion" whereas she was "a lost cause".

Having been nursed back to health, it soon became clear that Jacques Nompar had little intention to actually become a proper Catholic. Angry at the seeming turnabout, the king promptly refused to grand Jacques Nompar the prestigious Order of St. Michel. According to Dangeau, the king even deigned to have private discussions with the duke on the importance of his converting. When that did not have the desired effect, Jacques was sent to his estates to mull things over in 1686. However, if the king had thought that some good old-fashioned public snubbing would bring the duke to heel, he was wrong. Jacques Nompar continued his insistence of religious freedom, much to the annoyance of the king. Perhaps the irritation was made even worse by the fact that Jacques continuously allowed the king's preachers to assume that they had won.

In May 1686, the Mercure Gallante reported that the Duc de La Force had finally been convinced of the "errors of Protestantism" and had therefore become a good Catholic. It did not even last a year before it became clear that that was definitely not the case. Still, the same publication gleefully reported on the successful conversion of his sons not long after. 

Eventually, Louis XIV could not abide the open defiance of an obviously Protestant duke at his own court. It was honestly getting embarrassing considering the harsh measures taken everywhere else; the duke's refusal could potentially be seen as disobedience which in itself would be damaging to the king's power. The duke himself did nothing to hide his continued adherence to Protestantism. His private château left little doubt that its lord was not a Catholic. Even worse, from the king's point of view, he allowed his household servants to also continue in their Protestantism. In a particularly petty move, three servants were seized from his estate and imprisoned.

Meanwhile, his papers were seized and his private testament was discovered which showed that he still considered himself a Protestant. If the king ever needed concrete proof that the abjuration had been false, he had it now. There was only one thing to do: sent him back to the Bastille.

So, on 14 July 1689, Jacques Nompar was once again escorted back to the Bastille. It was whispered that his arrest was the result of an alleged conspiracy with the British. Conveniently, that would serve to draw a link between the French rival and this obstinate duke, thus villainising both. The Duchesse did not escape notice either. She remained a thorn in the eye of the king - it was one thing to imprison an obstinate nobleman but Louis XIV had always been raised to be the very picture of gallantry. It did not sit right with him to force the Duchesse into the Bastille as well - consequently, she remained under house arrest, far from her husband. House arrest turned into downright prisons where she was kept as isolated as possible.

The duke had three sons and four daughters - before escorting Jacques to his prison, the king made a show of removing his children. On the orders of the king, the daughters were quickly dispatched to convents where they would be converted; meanwhile, the sons quickly bowed to the pressure and lack of any type of support. They would not be handed back to their parents afterwards but would be the charges of their god-mother, the Duchesse de Saint-Simon. One of the girls, Marie-Anne-Louise, was rewarded with a position in the household of the dauphine and a marriage. Sadly, she would widowed after just two years and would later be exiled from court for improper conduct - the whispers of an illegitimate child with none less than the Grand Dauphin could explain the reason. 

Another, Jeanne, eagerly took to convincing the court that she had indeed converted and was promptly married off advantageously to the marquis de Courtomer. The two others remained at the convent as nuns.

It must have been heartbreaking, particularly for the Duchesse de La Force, to have her children forcibly removed and then bullied into converting to a religion she herself had always resisted. Yet, there was nothing to be done.

The entire de La Force-family soon came under fire, although not nearly as intensely as the head of their house. Many fled to England or the Netherlands where the men joined the army or simply blended into the aristocracy. For one, Pierre Nompar de Caumont married the daughter of another Huguenot who happened to serve as the Prince of Wales' doctor.

What of Jacques Nompar? He remained imprisoned until 29 April 1691 before being transferred to a monastery. It was said that he - having always been less fiercely religious than his wife - had actually wanted to convert this time. Perhaps the king thought the change of scenery would evoke the same change of heart as it had for his daughters? If so, the king was mistaken. Whatever change might have happened in the monastery, once he was permitted back to his estates, his wife was released as well - and she quickly undid the persuasive techniques of the monks. The king was furious with the Duchesse; in his mind, she was undoing everything he had spent years accomplishing. He even went so far as to order her to relocate as she was "inspiring her husband with sentiments contrary to the good faith".

Obeying, the Duchesse retired - for a while. Then she returned to her husband which led the king to continue his spying on the couple, irate that the duke listened more to his wife than his king. He even dispatched both policemen and M. Bordes to counteract the influence of the Duchesse. 

Henri Jacques - the heir who 
turned Catholic with a vengeance

By the time he was 67, Jacques' health was seriously declining. It soon became clear that he was dying. Realising that they had to move quickly to ensure his soul for the Catholic faith, he was continuously pressed to reconsider before it was too late. The Duchesse was even forcibly kept from his apartment to prevent any "relapse". Yet, Jacques Nompar refused - proving that his initial abjuration had been a sham. He would die as he had lived - as a Protestant. And so he did, expiring on 19 April 1699. 

Louis XIV was allegedly told that he died a good Catholic although he never did make a genuine abjuration. 

Upon his death, the Duchesse de La Force finally obtained permission to leave France for England where she was received with sympathy. She was allegedly presented with the age-old dilemma: convert or go into exile. She would die in England at 81, having survived Louis XIV by 16 years and his attempts at forcible conversion even longer. Ironically, one of her own sons - the heir, Henri Jacques - became intensely Catholic (unfortunately of the bigoted kind) who would forcibly convert those living on his estates.