In relating what happened to Madame des Ursins upon her return to Spain,
I have carried the narrative into the year 1705. It is not necessary to
retrace our steps. Towards the end of 1703 Courtin died. He had early
shone at the Council, and had been made Intendant of Picardy.
M. de Chaulnes, whose estates were there, begged him to tax them as
lightly as possible. Courtin, who was a very intimate friend of M. de
Chaulnes, complied with his request; but the next year, in going over his
accounts, he found that to do a good turn to M. de Chaulnes he had done
an ill turn to many others--that is to say, he had relieved M. de
Chaulnes at the expense of other parishes, which he had overcharged.
The trouble this caused him made him search deeply into the matter, and
he found that the wrong he had done amounted to forty thousand francs.
Without a second thought he paid back this money, and asked to be
recalled. As he was much esteemed, his request was not at once complied
with, but he represented so well that he could not pass his life doing
wrong, and unable to serve his friends, that at last what he asked was
granted. He afterwards had several embassies, went to England as
ambassador, and was very successful in that capacity. I cannot quit
Courtin without relating an adventure he had one day with Fieubet, a
Councillor of State like himself. As they were going to Saint Germain
they were stopped by several men and robbed; robbery was common in those
days, and Fieubet lost all he had in his pockets. When the thieves had
left them, and while Fieubet was complaining of his misfortune, Courtin
began to applaud himself for having saved his watch and fifty pistoles
that he had time to slip into his trowsers. Immediately on hearing this,
Fieubet put his head out of the coach window, and called back the
thieves, who came sure enough to see what he wanted.
"Gentlemen," said he, "you appear to be honest folks in distress; it is
not reasonable that you should be the dupes of this gentleman, who his
swindled you out of fifty pistoles and his watch." And then turning to
Courtin, he smilingly said: "You told me so yourself, monsieur; so give
the things up like a man, without being searched."
The astonishment and indignation of Courtin were such that he allowed
money and watch to be taken from him without uttering a single word; but
when the thieves were gone away, he would have strangled Fieubet had not
this latter been the stronger of the two. Fieubet only laughed at him;
and upon arriving at Saint Germain told the adventure to everybody he
met. Their friends had all the trouble in the world to reconcile them.
The year finished with an affair in which I was not a little interested.
During the year there were several grand fetes, at which the King went to
High Mass and vespers. On these occasions a lady of the Court, named by
the Queen, or when there was none, by the Dauphiness, made a collection
for the poor. The house of Lorraine, always anxious to increase its
importance, shirked impudently this duty, in order thereby to give itself
a new distinction, and assimilate its rank to that of the Princes of the
blood. It was a long time before this was perceived. At last the
Duchesse de Noailles, the Duchesse de Guiche, her daughter, the Marechal
de Boufflers, and others, took notice of it; and I was soon after
informed of it. I determined that the matter should be arranged, and
that justice should be done.
The Duchesse de Lude was first spoken to on the subject; she, weak and
timid, did not dare to do anything; but at last was induced to speak to
Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne, who, wishing to judge for herself as to
the truth of the matter, ordered Madame de Montbazon to make the
collection for the poor at the next fete that took place. Although very
well, Madame de Montbazon pretended to be ill, stopped in bed half a day,
and excused herself on this ground from performing the duty. Madame de
Bourgogne was annoyed, but she did not dare to push matters farther; and,
in consequence of this refusal, none of the Duchesses would make the
collection. Other ladies of quality soon perceived this, and they also
refused to serve; so that the collection fell into all sorts of hands,
and sometimes was not made at all. Matters went on so far, indeed, that
the King at last grew angry, and threatened to make Madame de Bourgogne
herself take this office. But refusals still followed upon refusals, and
the bomb thus at length was ready to burst.
The King, who at last ordered the daughter of M. le Grand to take the
plate on New Year's Day, 1704., had, it seems, got scent of the part I
was taking in this matter, and expressed himself to Madame de Maintenon,
as I learnt, as very discontented with me and one or two other Dukes.
He said that the Dukes were much less obedient to him than the Princes;
and that although many Duchesses had refused to make the collection, the
moment he had proposed that the daughter of M. le Grand should take it,
M. le Grand consented. On the next day, early in the morning, I saw
Chamillart, who related to me that on the previous evening, before he had
had time to open his business, the King had burst out in anger against
me, saying it was very strange, but that since I had quitted the army I
did nothing but meddle in matters of rank and bring actions against
everybody; finishing, by declaring that if he acted well he should send
me so far away that I should be unable to importune him any more.
Chamillart added, that he had done all in his power to appease the King,
but with little effect.
After consulting with my friends, I determined to go up to the King and
boldly ask to speak to him in his cabinet, believing that to be the
wisest course I could pursue. He was not yet so reconciled to me as he
afterwards became, and, in fact, was sorely out of humour with me. This
step did not seem, therefore, altogether unattended with danger; but,
as I have said, I resolved to take it. As he passed, therefore, from his
dinner that same day, I asked permission to follow him into his cabinet.
Without replying to me, he made a sign that I might enter, and went into
the embrasure of the window.
When we were quite alone I explained, at considerable length, my reasons
for acting in this matter, declaring that it was from no disrespect to
his Majesty that I had requested Madame de Saint-Simon and the other
Duchesses to refuse to collect for the poor, but simply to bring those to
account who had claimed without reason to be exempt from this duty.
I added, keeping my eyes fixed upon the King all the time, that I begged
him to believe that none of his subjects were more submissive to his will
or more willing to acknowledge the supremacy of his authority in all
things than the Dukes. Until this his tone and manner had been very
severe; but now they both softened, and he said, with much goodness and
familiarity, that "that was how it was proper to speak and think," and
other remarks equally gracious. I took then the opportunity of
expressing the sorrow I felt at seeing, that while my sole endeavour was
to please him, my enemies did all they could to blacken me in his eyes,
indicating that I suspected M. le Grand, who had never pardoned me for
the part I took in the affair of the Princesse d'Harcourt, was one of the
number. After I had finished the King remained still a moment, as if
ready to hear if I had anything more to say, and then quitted me with a
bow, slight but very gracious, saying it was well, and that he was
pleased with me.
I learnt afterwards that he said the same thing of me in the evening to
Chamillart, but, nevertheless, that he did not seem at all shaken in his
prejudice in favour of M. le Grand. The King was in fact very easy to
prejudice, difficult to lead back, and most unwilling to seek
enlightenment, or to listen to any explanations, if authority was in the
slightest degree at stake. Whoever had the address to make a question
take this shape, might be assured that the King would throw aside all
consideration of justice, right, and reason, and dismiss all evidence.
It was by playing on this chord that his ministers knew how to manage him
with so much art, and to make themselves despotic masters, causing him to
believe all they wished, while at the same time they rendered him
inaccessible to explanation, and to those who might have explained.
I have, perhaps, too much expanded an affair which might have been more
compressed. But in addition to the fact that I was mixed up in it, it is
by these little private details, as it seems to me, that the characters
of the Court and King are best made known.
In the early part of the next year, 1704., the King made La Queue, who
was a captain of cavalry, campmaster. This La Queue was seigneur of the
place of which he bore the name, distant six leagues from Versailles, and
as much from Dreux. He had married a girl that the King had had by a
gardener's wife. Bontems, the confidential valet of the King, had
brought about the marriage without declaring the names of the father or
the mother of the girl; but La Queue knew it, and promised himself a
fortune. The girl herself was tall and strongly resembled the King.
Unfortunately for her, she knew the secret of her birth, and much envied
her three sisters--recognised, and so grandly married. She lived on very
good terms with her husband--always, however, in the greatest privacy--
and had several children by him. La Queue himself, although by this
marriage son-in-law of the King, seldom appeared at the Court, and, when
there, was on the same footing as the simplest soldier. Bontems did not
fail from time to time to give him money. The wife of La Queue lived
very melancholily for twenty years in her village, never left it, and
scarcely ever went abroad for fear of betraying herself.
On Wednesday, the 25th of June, Monseigneur le Duc de Bourgogne had a son
born to him. This event caused great joy to the King and the Court.
The town shared their delight, and carried their enthusiasm almost to
madness, by the excess of their demonstration and their fetes. The King
gave a fete at Marly, and made the most magnificent presents to Madame la
Duchesse de Bourgogne when she left her bed. But we soon had reason to
repent of so much joy, for the child died in less than a year--and of so
much money unwisely spent, in fetes when it was wanted for more pressing
purposes. Even while these rejoicings were being celebrated, news
reached us which spread consternation in every family, and cast a gloom
over the whole city.
I have already said that a grand alliance, with the Emperor at its head,
had been formed against France, and that our troops were opposing the
Allies in various parts of Europe. The Elector of Bavaria had joined his
forces to ours, and had already done us some service. On the 12th of
August he led his men into the plain of Hochstedt, where, during the
previous year, he had gained a victory over the Imperialists. In this
plain he was joined by our troops, who took up positions right and left
of him, under the command of Tallard and Marsin. The Elector himself had
command of all. Soon after their arrival at Hochstedt, they received
intelligence that Prince Eugene, with the Imperialist forces, and the
Duke of Marlborough with the English were coming to meet them. Our
generals had, however, all the day before them to choose their ground,
and to make their dispositions. It would have been difficult to succeed
worse, both with the one and the other. A brook, by no means of a miry
kind, ran parallel to our army; and in front of it a spring, which formed
a long and large quagmire, nearly separated the two lines of Marshal
Tallard. It was a strange situation for a general to take up, who is
master of a vast plain; and it became, as will be seen, a very sad one.
At his extreme right was the large village of Blenheim, in which, by a
blindness without example, he had placed twenty-six battalions of
infantry, six regiments of dragoons, and a brigade of cavalry. It was an
entire army merely for the purpose of holding this village, and
supporting his right, and of course he had all these troops the less to
aid him in the battle which took place. The first battle of Hochstedt
afforded a lesson which ought to have been studied on this occasion.
There were many officers present, too, who had been at that battle; but
they were not consulted. One of two courses was open, either to take up
a position behind the brook, and parallel to it, so as to dispute its
passage with the enemies, or to take advantage of the disorder they would
be thrown into in crossing it by attacking them then. Both these plans
were good; the second was the better; but neither was adopted. What was
done was, to leave a large space between our troops and the brook, that
the enemy might pass at their ease, and be overthrown afterwards, as was
said. With such dispositions it is impossible to doubt but that our
chiefs were struck with blindness. The Danube flowed near enough to
Blenheim to be of sufficient support to our right, better indeed than
that village, which consequently there was no necessity to hold.
The enemies arrived on the 13th of August at the dawn, and at once took
up their position on the banks of the brook. Their surprise must have
been great to see our army so far off, drawn up in battle array. They
profited by the extent of ground left to them, crossed the brook at
nearly every point, formed themselves in several lines on the side to
which they crossed, and then extended themselves at their ease, without
receiving the slightest opposition. This is exact truth, but without any
appearance of being so; and posterity will with difficulty believe it.
It was nearly eight o'clock before all these dispositions, which our
troops saw made without moving, were completed. Prince Eugene with his
army had the right; the Duke of Marlborough the left. The latter thus
opposed to the forces of Tallard, and Prince Eugene to those of Marsin.
The battle commenced; and in one part was so far favourable to us that
the attack of Prince Eugene was repulsed by Marsin, who might have
profited by this circumstance but for the unfortunate position of our
right. Two things contributed to place us at a disadvantage. The second
line, separated by the quagmire I have alluded to from the first line,
could not sustain it properly; and in consequence of the long bend it was
necessary to make round this quagmire, neither line, after receiving or
making a charge, could retire quickly to rally and return again to the
attack. As for the infantry, the twenty-six battalions shut up in
Blenheim left a great gap in it that could not fail to, be felt. The
English, who soon perceived the advantage they might obtain from this
want of infantry, and from the difficulty with which our cavalry of the
right was rallied, profited by these circumstances with the readiness of
people who have plenty of ground at their disposal. They redoubled their
charges, and to say all in one word, they defeated at their first attack
all this army, notwithstanding the efforts of our general officers and of
several regiments to repel them. The army of the Elector, entirely
unsupported, and taken in flank by the English, wavered in its turn.
All the valour of the Bavarians, all the prodigies of the Elector, were
unable to remedy the effects of this wavering. Thus was seen, at one and
the same time, the army of Tallard beaten and thrown into the utmost
disorder; that of the Elector sustaining itself with great intrepidity,
but already in retreat; and that of Marsin charging and gaining ground
upon Prince Eugene. It was not until Marsin learnt of the defeat of
Tallard and of the Elector, that he ceased to pursue his advantages, and
commenced his retreat. This retreat he was able to make without being
pursued.
[Illustration: After The Battle of Blenheim--Painted by R. Canton Woodville--354]
In the mean time the troops in Blenheim had been twice attacked, and had
twice repulsed the enemy. Tallard had given orders to these troops on no
account to leave their positions, nor to allow a single man even to quit
them. Now, seeing his army defeated and in flight, he wished to
countermand these orders. He was riding in hot haste to Blenheim to do
so, with only two attendants, when all three were surrounded, recognised,
and taken prisoners.
These troops shut up in Blenheim had been left under the command of
Blansac, camp-marshal, and Clerembault, lieutenant-general. During the
battle this latter was missed, and could nowhere be found. It was known
afterwards that, for fear of being killed, he had endeavoured to escape
across the Danube on horseback attended by a single valet. The valet
passed over the river in safety, but his master went to the bottom.
Blansac, thus left alone in command, was much troubled by the disorders
he saw and heard, and by the want which he felt of fresh orders. He sent
a messenger to Tallard for instructions how to act, but his messenger was
stopped on the road, and taken prisoner. I only repeat what Blansac
himself reported in his defence, which was equally ill-received by the
King and the public, but which had no contradictors, for nobody was
witness of what took place at Blenheim except those actually there, and
they all, the principals at least, agreed in their story. What some of
the soldiers said was not of a kind that could altogether be relied upon.
While Blansac was in this trouble, he saw Denonville, one of our officers
who had been taken prisoner, coming towards the village, accompanied by
an officer who waved a handkerchief in the air and demanded a parley.
Denonville was a young man, very handsome and well made, who being a
great favourite with Monseigneur le Duc de Bourgogne had become
presumptuous and somewhat audacious. Instead of speaking in private to
Blansac and the other principal officers--since he had undertaken so
strange a mission--Denonville, who had some intellect, plenty of fine
talk, and a mighty opinion of himself, set to work haranguing the troops,
trying to persuade them to surrender themselves prisoners of war, so that
they might preserve themselves for the service of the King. Blansac, who
saw the wavering this caused among the troops, sharply told Denonville to
hold his tongue, and began himself to harangue the troops in a contrary
spirit. But it was to late. The mischief was done. Only one regiment,
that of Navarre, applauded him, all the rest maintained a dull silence.
I remind my readers that it is Blansac's version of the story I am
giving.
Soon after Denonville and his companion had returned to the enemy, an
English lord came, demanding a parley with the commandant. He was
admitted to Blansac, to whom he said that the Duke of Marlborough had
sent him to say that he had forty battalions and sixty pieces of cannon
at his disposal, with reinforcements to any extent at command; that he
should surround the village on all sides; that the army of Tallard was in
flight, and the remains of that of the Elector in retreat; that Tallard
and many general officers were prisoners; that Blansac could hope for no
reinforcements; and that, therefore, he had better at once make an
honourable capitulation, and surrender, himself with all his men
prisoners of war, than attempt a struggle in which he was sure to be
worsted with great loss. Blansac wanted to dismiss this messenger at
once, but the Englishman pressed him to advance a few steps out of the
village, and see with his own eyes the defeat of the Electoral army, and
the preparations that were made on the other side to continue the battle.
Blansac accordingly, attended by one of his officers, followed this lord,
and was astounded to see with his own eyes that all he had just heard was
true. Returned into Bleinheim, Blansac assembled all his principal
officers, made them acquainted with the proposition that had been made,
and told them what he had himself seen. Every one comprehended what a
frightful shock it would be for the country when it learnt that they had
surrendered themselves prisoners of war; but all things well considered,
it was thought best to accept these terms, and so preserve to the King
the twenty-six battalions and the twelve squadrons of dragoons who were
there. This terrible capitulation was at once, therefore, drawn up and
signed by Blansac, the general officers, and the heads of every corps
except that of Navarre, which was thus the sole one which refused.
The number of prisoners that fell to the enemy in this battle was
infinite. The Duke of Marlborough took charge of the most distinguished,
until he could carry them away to England, to grace his triumph there.
He treated them all, even the humblest, with the utmost attention,
consideration, and politeness, and with a modesty that did him even more
honour than his victory. Those that came under the charge of Prince
Louis of Baden were much less kindly treated.
The King received the cruel news of this battle on the 21st of August, by
a courier from the Marechal de Villeroy. By this courier the King learnt
that a battle had taken place on the 13th; had lasted from eight o'clock
in the morning until evening; that the entire army of Tallard was killed
or taken prisoners; that it was not known what had become of Tallard
himself, or whether the Elector and Marsin had been at the action. The
private letters that arrived were all opened to see what news they
contained, but no fresh information could be got from them. For six days
the King remained in this uncertainty as to the real losses that had been
sustained. Everybody was afraid to write bad news; all the letters which
from time to time arrived, gave, therefore, but an unsatisfactory account
of what had taken place. The King used every means in his power to
obtain some news. Every post that came in was examined by him, but there
was little found to satisfy him. Neither the King nor anybody else could
understand, from what had reached them, how it was that an entire army
had been placed inside a village, and had surrendered itself by a signed
capitulation. It puzzled every brain. At last the details, that had
oozed out little by little, augmented to a perfect stream, by the,
arrival of one of our officers, who, taken prisoner, had been allowed by
the Duke of Marlborough to go to Paris to relate to the King the
misfortune that had happened to him.
We were not accustomed to misfortunes. This one, very reasonably, was
utterly unexpected. It seemed in every way the result of bad
generalship, of an unjustifiable disposition of troops, and of a series
of gross and incredible errors. The commotion was general. There was
scarcely an illustrious family that had not had one of its members
killed, wounded, or taken prisoner. Other families were in the same
case. The public sorrow and indignation burst out without restraint.
Nobody who had taken part in this humiliation was spared; the generals
and the private soldiers alike came in for blame. Denonville was
ignominiously broken for the speech he had made at Blenheim. The
generals, however, were entirely let off. All the punishment fell upon
certain regiments, which were broken, and upon certain unimportant
officers--the guilty and innocent mixed together. The outcry was
universal. The grief of the King at this ignominy and this loss, at the
moment when he imagined that the fate of the Emperor was in his hands,
may be imagined. At a time when he might have counted upon striking a
decisive blow, he saw himself reduced to act simply on the defensive, in
order to preserve his troops; and had to repair the loss of an entire
army, killed or taken prisoners. The sequel showed not less that the
hand of God was weighty upon us. All judgment was lost. We trembled
even in the midst of Alsace.
In the midst of all this public sorrow, the rejoicing and the fetes for
the birth of the Duc de Bretagne son of Monseigneur le Duc de Bourgogne,
were not discontinued. The city gave a firework fete upon the river,
that Monseigneur, the Princes, his sons, and Madame la Duchesse de
Bourgogne, with many ladies and courtiers, came to see from the windows
of the Louvre, magnificent cheer and refreshments being provided for
them. This was a contrast which irritated the people, who would not
understand that it was meant for magnanimity. A few days afterwards the
King gave an illumination and a fete at Marly, to which the Court of
Saint Germain was invited; and which was all in honour of Madame la
Duchesse de Bourgogne. He thanked the Prevot des Marchand for the
fireworks upon the river, and said that Monseigneur and Madame had found
them very beautiful.
Shortly after this, I received a letter from one of my friends, the Duc
de Montfort, who had always been in the army of the Marechal de Villeroy.
He sent word to me, that upon his return he intended to break his sword,
and retire from the army. His letter was written in such a despairing
tone that, fearing lest with his burning courage he might commit some
martial folly, I conjured him not to throw himself into danger for the
sake of being killed. It seemed that I had anticipated his intentions.
A convoy of money was to be sent to Landau. Twice he asked to be allowed
to take charge of this convoy, and twice he was told it was too
insignificant a charge for a camp-marshal to undertake. The third time
that he asked this favour, he obtained it by pure importunity. He
carried the money safely into Landau, without meeting with any obstacle.
On his return he saw some hussars roving about. Without a moment's
hesitation he resolved to give chase to them. He was with difficulty
restrained for some time, and a last, breaking away, he set off to attack
them, followed by only two officers. The hussars dispersed themselves,
and retreated; the Duc de Montfort followed them, rode into the midst of
them, was surrounded on all sides, and soon received a blow which
overturned him. In a few moments after, being carried off by his men, he
died, having only had time to confess himself, and to arrive at his
quarters. He was infinitely regretted by everybody who had known him.
The grief of his family may be imagined.