It is certain that the Comtesse de Soissons, Angélique-Cunégonde,
daughter of François-Henri de Luxembourg, has much virtue and
capacity, though, like all the world, she has defects. One may say
of her indeed that she is a poor princess. Her husband, Louis-Henri,
Comte de Soissons, is very ugly. If her children had been like their
mother they would have been very handsome, for all her features are
fine; eyes, mouth, and lines of the face could not be better; her
nose is a little too large, and her skin not delicate. All her sons,
except Prince Eugène, have not been worth much, and any one who
resembles Eugène cannot be good-looking. When he was young he was
not so very ugly; but he has grown ugly in growing old; he never had
a fine countenance or the noble air; his eyes are not bad, but his
nose spoils his face; his teeth are too large and protrude from his
mouth; he is always dirty, and he wears greasy hair which he never
curls. I think a good deal of Prince Eugène, for he is not selfish.
He did a fine action: he left behind him here a great many debts;
after he entered the service of the emperor and acquired a fortune he
paid to the last farthing all that he owed, even to those who had no
bill or written engagement with him and never dreamed of being paid.
Therefore it is impossible that a man who acted with such loyalty
could have betrayed his master for money. The accusations of the
traitor Nimtsch are lies and the work of that devil of an Alberoni. I
see from the "Gazette of Vienna" which you sent me that Prince Eugène
does not intend to let so horrible an accusation drop, but will pursue
the Comte de Nimtsch to the death. That is right.
I thank you for the silver coin you send; it comes extremely _à
propos_. I have also the Doctor Luther in gold and in silver. I am
convinced that Luther would have done much better not to make a
separate Church, but to have confined himself to opposing the abuses
of the papacy; more good would have come from it.
To go back to what I was beginning to tell you on Wednesday--I assure
you that my son has more enemies than friends. His brother-in-law
[the Duc du Maine] and his wife are working with the greatest ardour
to rouse the hatred of the populace against him. Mme. du Maine is
circulating writings against him. The children of the Montespan come
of a malignant race.
The little king has a pretty face and much judgment, but he is a
spiteful child; he loves no one in the world but his governess, Mme.
de Ventadour; he takes aversions to people without any cause, and
likes to say the most wounding things to them. I am not in his good
graces, but that does not trouble me; for when he is of an age to
reign I shall not be in this world and dependent on his caprices. When
I advise my son to be on his guard against all these wicked people, he
only laughs and says: "You know, Madame, that we cannot avoid what God
has ordained for us throughout all time; therefore, if I am to perish
I cannot avoid it; therefore I shall do only what is reasonable for my
preservation, but nothing extraordinary."
[This is a favourable opportunity to reveal Madame's French spelling;
the letter is in German, but she quotes her son in French, as follows:
"Vous saves bien, Madame, qu'on ne peust Evitter ce que Dieu vous
a de tout temps destines; ainsi, sije le suis à perir, je ne Le
pourris Evitter; ainsi je feres que ce qui est raisonnable pour ma
Conservation, mais rien dextraordinaire."]
My son has studied much; he has a good memory; he expresses himself
well on all sorts of subjects; above all, he speaks extremely well in
public; but he is a man, he has his faults like others. They do harm
to himself only, for he is only too kind and good to other people. I
tell him every day he is too kind; he laughs and asks me if it is not
better to be kind than harsh. I don't know where he gets his great
patience; Monsieur had none, nor I either.
When he was fourteen or fifteen years of age he was not ugly; but
since then the sun of Italy and Spain so burned him that his skin
became a deep red. He is not tall, and yet he is stout, with fat
cheeks; his bad sight makes him squint, and his eyes protrude; and he
has a bad walk. And yet I do not think he is disagreeable-looking.
When he dances or rides on horseback he makes a good appearance; but
when he goes about in his usual way he does not appear to advantage.
Close by he sees very well, and can read the finest writing, but at
the distance of half the length of a room he recognizes no one without
spectacles. Though he talks well on matters of science or knowledge,
one can easily see that they give him no pleasure; on the contrary,
they bore him. I have often observed this to him; he admits that at
first he has the greatest desire to know a thing, but as soon as he
thoroughly knows what he studies it gives him no longer the least
satisfaction. I love him from the bottom of my heart, but I cannot
understand how women should be enamoured of him; for he has in no
way the manners of gallantry, and he is not discreet; besides, he is
incapable of feeling a passion and of being attached for any length
of time to the same person. On the other hand, his manners are not
polite or seductive enough to make him beloved. He is very indiscreet
and relates all that happens to him. I have told him a hundred times
that I am amazed that those women run after him so madly when I should
think they would rather run away from him. He laughs and says: "You
don't know the loose women of the present day. To say you have been
their lover pleases them."