Der Hofstaat von Anna umfasste im Jahr 1649 folgende Dienerschaft: "She [Anna] had five bed-chamber women, twelve dressers, two inferior maids, and four laundry maids; five equerries, twenty-four pages, and twenty-four footmen; one secretary des commandements, forty-eight secretaries, eighteen valets de chambre; ushers in endless number; two apothecaries, five surgeons; five maîtres d’hôtel, eight cooks, four pastry-cooks; one keeper of the jewels; six train-bearers: one keeper of upholstery, seven upholsterers; one baker, twenty porters, five washerwomen, two millers; one master of the silver plate, four butlers; ten dressmakers and milliners, one tailor; two physicians, nine chaplains; twelve dames de palais, twelve lords in waiting, and one mistress of the robes, or grande-maîtresse." (in: Martha Walker Freer: The Regency of Anna of Austria - Queen Regent of France, Mother of Louis XIV, From numerous unpublished sources, including M88. in the Bibliothèque Impériale, and the Archives du Royaume de France, etc., etc., Vol. 2, id., p. 290).
Ging Anna mit dem Kardinal Jules Mazarin eine heimliche Ehe ein? "Anne of Austria, it is said, elected to keep her able minister, even at the sacrifice of her royal dignity by a mésalliance. At the altar of her oratory in the Palais Royal, at midnight, Anne of Austria is said, therefore, to have accepted Giulio Mazzarini [= Mazarin] for her second husband - the famous St. Vincent de Paul, performing the nuptial mass some time between the 10th of January, and the 1st of February of the year 1650. ... Anne of Austria was one of the most haughty and intolerant of princesses: - the sangre azul of her princely ancestry, Catholic Kings of Spain, and Emperors of Austria, was a theme on which she fondly boasted; and to assert that she voluntarily sullied such descent by marriage with the able son of Colonna's steward, is to argue against all knowledge of her character, and her feelings, which have descended to us in the records of contemporary history. It has been seen in the pages of her "Married Life" that the Queen did not altogether abjure the tender passion. The Duke of Buckingham's assiduities seriously damaged the fair fame of Anne of Austria, while the surprise one day, by Louis XIII., of the handsome Duc de Montmorency on his knees before the Queen, and the subsequent discovery of her portrait bound round his arm on the field of Castelnaudarey are supposed to be facts, which closed up every avenue of mercy in the King's heart towards the then convicted traitor. ... The Queen was totally regardless of appearances; and the thought never seems to have disturbed her mind as to what might be the public opinion on her intimate association at all times, and all hours, with her minister in their midnight interviews, and on the proximity of their apartments in the Palais Royal. ... The sole testimony of any repute against Anne and Mazarin, is that of Madame [Liselotte von der Pfalz], the second wife of her son Philip, Duke of Orleans, brother of Louis XIV. The Queen had been dead fifty-six years, and Mazarin sixty-one years, when the duchess wrote thus: - "The late Queen-mother gave herself little anxiety about the Cardinal de Mazarin; he was not a priest, and therefore could marry. All the circumstances of this marriage are now well known. The secret passage by which he used every night to visit the Queen, exists still at the Palais Royal." The Duchess also say, that Madame de Beauvais [die Hofdame, die in Annas Zimmer zusammen mit ihr schlief] knew of the marriage, which was the reason of her favour. ..." (in: Martha Walker Freer: The Regency of Anna of Austria - Queen Regent of France, Mother of Louis XIV, From numerous unpublished sources, including M88. in the Bibliothèque Impériale, and the Archives du Royaume de France, etc., etc., Vol. 2, id., pp. 263-266).
Ein Brief von Anna von Spanien/Österreich an Kardinal Mazarin am 30. Juni 1660: "Your letter ... has given me great joy. I do not know whether I shall be fortunate enough to inspire you with this belief, but had I the least idea that my letters could so greatly please you, I would willingly have written more; it is true, however, that the joy which I myself witnessed once, while I saw you read my letters, reminded me of another time, of which I carry constant memory. However you might doubt, I certify to you that all my life shall be employed to testify to you that there never has been a friendship more true than my own; and if you believe this not, a day will come, upon which you will repent your slow belief. If I could show you my heart, as plainly as you will read these words, you would be the most ungrateful man in the world, did you not believe ..." (in: Martha Walker Freer: The Regency of Anna of Austria - Queen Regent of France, Mother of Louis XIV, From numerous unpublished sources, including M88. in the Bibliothèque Impériale, and the Archives du Royaume de France, etc., etc., Vol. 2, id., pp. 412-413).
"But we find in the letters of Mazarin, published by M. Ravenel (Paris, 1836), passages which have all the more importance because the character of this correspondence is much more confidential and private. In it Mazarin constantly speaks to the queen of 'his heart', tells her that he is 'dying for her,' etc.; in a word, expresses himself quite otherwise than as a subject, even a minister, to his sovereign." (in: Memoirs of Madame de Motteville, Volume 2, id., p. 355).
Die Unterkünfte der beiden, der Königin Anna und des Kardinals Mazarin, lagen laut Madame de Motteville sehr nah nebeneinander: "The queen-mother [Anna im Jahr 1661] was awakened by this news [Mazarin ging es gesundheitlich sehr schlecht]. She had heard him groaning in the night, because he was lodged on the other side of her chamber, and his illness was of a nature to suffocate him continually." (in: Memoirs of Madame de Motteville, Volume 3, id., p. 229).
Es ist keine Frage, wenn man einen Blick in die persönlichen Briefe zwischen dem Kardinal Mazarin und Anna von Spanien/Österreich geworfen hat, dass die beiden sich sehr geliebt haben. Anna wäre mit Sicherheit eine heimliche Ehe mit ihm eingegangen, wenn er nicht Geistlicher gewesen wäre. Er durfte jedoch nicht heiraten. Schließlich war der Kardinal Mazarin nicht ein Mitglied des hohen Adels, die bis zum Kardinalat ohne kirchliche Weihen hochsteigen konnten, jedoch nie das Recht einer Heirat verloren, um aus dynastischen Gründen eine Familie zu gründen.
Sehr interessant ist, dass wir in den Memoiren der Madame de Montespan lesen, dass man bereits zu Lebzeiten der Königinmutter (um 1665/1666) das Gerücht in Frankreich verbreitete, dass Letztere den Kardinal Mazarin heimlich geheiratet hätte. Um diese Zeit existierte nämlich folgendes Pamphlet, das in Amsterdam gedruckt worden sein soll: "Secret and Circumstantial Account of the Marriage of Anne of Austria, Queen of France, with the Abbé Jules Siméon Mazarin, Cardinal of the Holy Roman Church. A new edition, carefully revised, Amsterdam". "According to the author of it [dem Pamphlet], King Louis XIII., being weak and languid, and sapped moreover by secret poison, had not been able to beget any heirs. The Queen [Anna von Spanien/Österreich], who secretly was Mazarin's mistress, had had twins by the Abbé, only the prettier of the two being declared legitimate. The other twin had been entrusted to obscure teachers, who, when it was time, would give him up. The princess, so the writer added, stung by qualms of conscience, had insisted upon having her guilty intimacy purified by the sacrament of marriage, to which the prime minister agreed. Then, mentioning the names of such and such persons as witnesses, the book stated that 'this marriage was solemnised on a night in February, 1643, by Cardinal de Sainte-Suzanne, a brother and servile creature of Mazarin's.' 'This explains,' added the vile print, 'the zeal, perseverance, and foolish ardour of the Queen Regent in defending her Italian against the just opposition of the nobles, against the formal charges of the magistrates, against the clamorous outcry, not only of Parisians, but of all France. This explains the indifference, or rather the firm resolve, on Mazarin's part, never to take orders, but to remain simply tonsuré or minoré, - he who controls at least forty abbeys, as well as a bishopric. Look at the young monarch,' it continued, 'and consider how closely he resembles his Eminence, - the same haughty glance; the same uncontrolled passion for pompous buildings, luxurious dress and equipages; the same deference and devotion to the Queen-mother; the same independent customs, precepts, and laws; the same aversion for the Parisians; the same resentment against the honest folk of the Fronde.' [Madame de Montespan nennt schließlich einen der Gründe, warum dieses Pamphlet nur ein böses Gerücht verbreiten soll:] The libellous pamphlet state that, on the occasion of the Infanta's first confinement, twins were born, and that the prettier of the two had been adopted, - another blunder, this, of the grossest kind. A book of this sort could deceive only the working class and the Parisian lower orders, for folk about the Court, and even the bourgeoisie, know that it is impossible for a queen to be brought to bed in secret. Unfortunately for her, she has to comply with the most embarrassing rules of etiquette. She has to bear her final birth-pangs under an open canopy, surrounded at no great distance by all the princes of blood; they are summoned thither, and they have this right so as to prevent all frauds, subterfuges, or impositions." (in: Memoirs of Madame la Marquise de Montespan – Being Historic Memoirs of the Court of Louis XIV., Volume 1, pp. 81-84).
Die Krankheit und der Tod der Königin, erzählt von Madame de Motteville: "In the spring of this year (1664) the Court went to Versailles ... it was on this journey of pleasure that the queen-mother [Anna] felt the first pains of her cancer. It first appeared as a little swelling on her breast, about which she felt no uneasiness. This was really the cause of her death ... [in November 1664] [she] had felt much pain in her breast. As she had too long neglected this ailment, she was astonished to see that in a very short time it had grown notably worse. By the yellow colour of her face we could see that the anxiety she had felt during the queen's [Maria Teresa, ihrer Nichte und Gattin von Ludwig XIV.] illness [Tertiärfieber und die zu frühe Geburt einer Tochter, die nur einige Tage lebte] had injured her. She had consulted doctors at the beginning of this strange malady, and they had then applied hemlock, which did her no good. At first she had the intention ... of putting herself in the hands of Vallot, the king's head physician, who, being versed in the knowledge of simples and chemistry, ought, it seemed, to know the specific remedies for his disease. But he showed such feebleness in supporting his opinion against those that were opposed to it, that she was disgusted with him. Seguin, who was her own doctor, was a man learned in the manner of the Faculty of Paris, which is to bleed always and use no other remedies. ... The queen-mother, finding succour in no one, was compelled to abandon herself to the wrangling of men who tortured her more than her disease. Her attendants had each their private opinion as to the course she ought to follow ... [she] having seen cancers in the nuns of the Val-de-Grâce, who had died all rotten, she had always had a horror of this disease, so terrible to her imagination ... She continued to put the hemlock on her breast though it seemed to make it worse. ... A consultation was immediately ordered of the most celebrated physicians and surgeons in Paris. They all pronounced it a cancer, and said it was now beyond remedy ... In this way she passed the whole winter, during which her suffering was very great; it could be seen in her eyes and on her face ... Little by little, however, the cancer grew worse and began to open, which gave great anxiety to all about her. ... on the same day [25. Juli 1665] the queen-mother became worse. She had great lassitude, with some fever, and was two days in this state, the doctors saying it was nothing; but on the third day a tumour came out under her arm on the opposite side to the cancer. ... Her abscess was now to be lanced, and the king returned to her the evening before the operation. ... The operation that had been performed was an extremely painful one ... That evening when they dressed the wound it was found dry, withered, and black; the cancer was found in the same bad state. ... seeing the bad state of her cancer, which, far from being hardened as he [Gendron, der Wunderheiler] had promised, was now open on all sides, and in several places her breast was full of holes. ... The pain from her cancer was excessive, and the abscess was discharging purulent matter ... gangrene set in ... The flesh mortified and was then cut off in slices with a razor. This operation was shocking to see. It was done night and morning in presence of the whole royal family, the doctors and surgeons, and all those persons who had the honour to serve her and to approach her familiarly. She saw her flesh cut with patience and estimable gentleness; and she often said she never could have believed that a fate so different from that of other human beings could be hers; that usually no one rotted till after death, but as for her, God had condemned her to rot in life. Throughout this whole treatment she had suffered much; but her pains increased excessively when Alliot's [Spezialarzt] remedies approached live flesh. She came at last to such an extremity of suffering that, having lost the power to sleep they made her take every night the juice of poppies. In that way alone could she get relief from her pain; and though it was easy to judge that this remedy would bring her sooner to death, it was impossible to blame the use of it, because this fatal soothing put a few moments' interval in the course of her suffering. ... On the day of the Epiphany [am 6. Januar 1666] she had violent fever and a strong chill ... The queen-mother being now in a state worse than death ... her martyrdom was increased by the odour that came from her cancer. ... this evil alone was too great for her to bear. One of those days when she complained of this discomfort, I [Madame de Motteville] being alone with her, she said to me in a low voice: 'God wills to punish me in this way for having had too much vanity and for loving the beauty of my body too well.' On the night of the 15th [of January] she was very ill. The pain was so great that she felt as if forced to shed tears, which flowed from her eyes abundantly. ... 'Madame de Motteville, I suffer much. There is no spot of my body in which I do not feel the greatest pain.' ... her shoulders began to ulcerate; and as she was obliged to lie always on her back she felt much pain in them. She asked me to touch them. I found them already full of pustules, and I was amazed that she could bear so great an addition to her pains without a word. ... The next day, Tuesday, January 19 [1666], all the bad symptoms ... increased; but her love of cleanliness which in spite of the nature of her illness never left her, made her desire towards evening to have her bed made. She was obeyed with much difficulty, as she was very weak and very heavy. ... [Ihr Tod ist nah, ihre Familie und die hohen Adligen ihres Reiches sind um sie versammelt] The king was standing, weeping, in front of her. After she had remained collected in thought for some time, she looked at him fixedly, and said, with the majesty of a queen and the authority of a mother: 'Do what I told you. I tell it to you again, with the Holy Sacrament upon my lips.' The king, with profound respect and his eyes filled with tears, bowed his head and answered that he would not fail; and to this hour we are ignorant of what it was. ... After the queen-mother had received this last sacrament, she remained for some time in repose, and her eyes began, little by little, to be covered with the cold and gloomy film of death; but hearing the king's voice beside her, she opened them wide, and looking up with a sort of glad surprise at seeing him again, she said tenderly and with emotion, 'Ah! here is the king!' After considering him for some moments, with an attention which seemed to come from her heart and soul touched by a natural sentiment that had roused from the fatal drowsiness in which she had been lying, she said to him, 'Go, my son, go to supper.'" (in: Memoirs of Madame de Motteville, Volume 3, id., pp. 295/309-313/325/331-335/343/345-354). Anna von Spanien/Österreich starb an einem Mittwoch, den 20. Januar 1666, zwischen 4 und 5 Uhr morgens. Ihre beiden Söhne trauerten sehr um sie: "Immediately after this terrible and fatal event Monsieur [ihr jüngerer Sohn Philippe I.] embraced her tenderly. The tears he shed made visible his grief and how deeply he was afflicted. ... I know, from persons who slept in the same room with the king [ihrem älteren Sohn Ludwig XIV.], that he wept in his bed nearly the whole night."
"On the night of the 20th of January [1666] she [Anna von Spanien/Österreich] passed away, and the tolling of the great bell of Notre-Dame announced the news of her death. Monsieur [Philippe I.., der Herzog von Orléans], who had hardly left his mother's bedside, was the only member of her family present at the last, and was so deeply distressed that he refused to hear her will read, and retired at once with Madame to Saint-Cloud. Shortly afterwards the King and Queen went to Versailles, leaving Mademoiselle [Anne Marie d'Orléans (1627-1693] to pay the last honours to her aunt's remains. ... The heart of the dead Queen was borne to her own Abbey of Val-de-Grâce, and her body was laid to rest in the royal vaults at Saint-Denis. State funeral services were held in both churches, and at Notre-Dame, where the royal family assisted, and Madame [Henriette Anna von England, die Herzogin von Orléans] figured as chief mourner, wearing a train seven yards long." (in: Julia Mary Cartwright Ady: Madame, a life of Henrietta, daughter of Charles I. and Duchess of Orleans, id., pp. 225-226).