I went yesterday to see the Duchesse de Berry; she is better, thank
God, but she cannot walk yet. Two great boils have come upon the soles
of her feet, which burn them as if with red-hot iron; it is a very
singular illness. Twice a week they give her medicine, and the other
days an enema; both do her good. It seems that her illness comes from
the frightful gluttony in which she indulged last year.
I told you my son had a fever; he is better now; but I fear a relapse,
for he is, to say the least, as much of a glutton as his daughter; and
he will not listen to any advice.
The English nation is a wicked nation, false and ungrateful. Most of
the persons of rank who were at Saint-Germain, whom the late queen
supported (imposing upon herself personally the greatest privations in
order to do so) now declaim against her, and tell a thousand lies of
that good and virtuous queen. All this fills me with wrath.
My son is really too kind; that little Duc de Richelieu having
assured him that he had fully intended to reveal to him the plot, he
believed him and has set him at liberty. It is true that the duke's
mistress, Mlle. de Charolais, never left my son a moment's peace about
it. It is a horrible thing for a princess of the blood to declare in
the face of all the world that she is as amorous as a cat, and that
her passion is for a scoundrel of a rank so beneath her own that she
cannot marry him, and who is moreover unfaithful to her, for he is
known to have half a dozen other mistresses. When she is told of that
she replies: "Pooh! he only has them to sacrifice them to me and to
tell me all that passes between them." It is really an awful thing.
If I believed in sorcery I should say that that duke possessed a
supernatural power; for he has never yet found a woman who opposed him
the slightest resistance; they all run after him, and it is literally
shameful. He is not handsomer than others, and he is so indiscreet
and gabbling that he says himself if an empress beautiful as an angel
fell in love with him and wished to be his on condition that he would
not tell of it, he should prefer to leave her on the spot and never
look at her again. He is a great poltroon, but very insolent, without
heart or soul. I revolt at the thought that he is the petted darling
of women, and I am quite sure he will only show ingratitude for my
son's kindness--but I will not say another word about that personage;
he puts me out of all patience.
The harm that is said of M. Law and his bank is the effect of
jealousy; for nothing better could be found. He is paying off the
fearful debts of the late king, and he has diminished the taxes,
lessening in that way the burdens that are weighing down the people;
wood does not cost the half of what it did; the duties on wine, meats,
in fact, all that is consumed in Paris have been abolished; and that
has caused great joy among the people, as you may suppose. M. Law
is very polite. I think a great deal of him; he does all he can to
be agreeable to me. He does not wish to act secretly, like those who
have preceded him in the management of the finances, but publicly,
with honour. It is quite false that he has bought a palace from the
Duchesse de Berry; she has none to sell; all the houses she has return
to the king,--such as Meudon, Châville, and La Muette.
Law is so pursued that he has no peace day or night; a duchess kissed
his hands in sight of everybody, and if duchesses kiss his hands, what
will not the other women kiss? Impossible to have more capacity than
he, but I would not for all the gold in the world be in his place; he
is tormented like a lost soul; besides which his enemies are spreading
all sorts of wicked tales about him. I am tired out with hearing of
nothing but shares and millions, and I cannot hide my ill-humour.
People are flocking here from all corners of Europe; during the last
month there have been in Paris two hundred and fifty thousand more
persons than usual; they have had to make rooms in lofts and barns,
and Paris is so full of carriages that there is great difficulty in
getting through the streets, and many persons have been crushed. One
lady meaning to say to M. Law, "Give me a concession," called out in
a loud voice, "Ah! monsieur, give me a conception;" to which M. Law
replied: "Madame, you have come too late; there is no way at present
by which you can obtain one."