One hears of nothing every day but bank-bills. I think it very hard
not to see gold. For forty-eight years I have always had fine gold
pieces in my pocket, and now there is nothing to be seen but silver
money, and that of little value.
It is very certain that M. Law is now most horribly disliked. My son
told me something in the carriage to-day which moved me so much that
the tears came into my eyes. He said: "The populace said a thing that
touched me to the heart; I feel it deeply." I asked him what it was,
and he replied that when the Comte de Horn was executed the people
said: "If anything is done against the regent personally he forgives
it all; but if anything is done against us, he listens to no nonsense,
but does justice." M. Law has no bad intentions; he buys landed
property and shows in that way that he means to stay in France. I do
not believe that he is sending money to England, Holland, and Hamburg.
We no longer know here what a Court is. No ladies come to see me,
because I will not allow them to present themselves before me as they
do before Mme. d'Orléans, with scarfs, and no bodies to their loose
gowns. Those are things that I will not tolerate. I prefer to see no
one at all than to permit such familiarities. Mme. d'Orléans has
spoilt these women; she does not make herself respected and does not
really know what rank is. Mmes. de Montesson and de Maintenon, who
brought her up, did not know either. She is too proud to be willing to
learn anything from me; she thinks it would be beneath her, believing
herself far superior to me when she sees how her room is filled and
mine is empty. She would not imitate me, neither would I imitate her;
and so each of us keeps to her own way.
PARIS, May, 1720.
My son has been obliged to dismiss Law, who has hitherto been adored
as a god. He is no longer controller-general, though still the
director of the Bank and the Company of the Indies. They are obliged
to give him a guard, for his life is not safe; and it is pitiable to
see how great his terror is. All sorts of satires are being written
and spread about him.
The jewellers refuse to work; they value their merchandise at three
times the price it can now bring on account of paper-money. I have
often wished that hell-fire would burn up those bank-bills. They give
my son more trouble than comfort. There is no describing all the
results they have brought about. My son spares himself no trouble,
but after working from morning till night he likes to amuse himself
at supper with his little black crow [the regent's name for Mme. de
Parabère].
According to public clamour things are going horribly ill. I wish
Law had been at the devil with his system, and had never set foot in
France. The people do me too much honour in saying that if my advice
had been listened to things would have gone better; I have no advice
to give in matters concerning the government; I meddle in nothing
of the kind. But Frenchmen are so accustomed to see women with their
fingers in everything that it seems to them impossible that I should
be aloof from what happens. The good Parisians, with whom I am in
favour, choose to attribute to me whatever is good; I am very much
obliged to those poor souls for the affection they feel to me, but I
do not deserve it. The Parisians are the best people in the world, and
if the parliament did not excite them they would never revolt. Poor
people, they touch me very much, for while they shout against Law they
do not attack my son, and when I passed in my carriage through the
crowd they called out benedictions. That touched me so much I could
not help crying. It is not surprising that they do not like my son as
much as they do me, for his enemies spare nothing to decry him and
make him out a reprobate and a tyrant; whereas he is really the best
man in the world--he is too good. I have never understood the system
of M. Law, but I have firmly believed that no good would come of it.
As I cannot disguise my thoughts I have always told my son plainly
what I think of it. He assured me I was mistaken and he wanted to
explain the matter to me; but the more he tried to make me comprehend
it, the less I could understand a word of it.
Law is like a dead man, pale as linen; he cannot get over that last
fright of his. His good friend, the Duc d'Antin, wants to get his
place as director of the Bank. No one was ever more terrified than M.
Law; my son, who is not intimidated in spite of the threats addressed
to him, laughs till he makes himself ill over Law's cowardice. Though
everything at present is quiet here, Law does not dare go out; the
market-women have placed spies round his house to know if he leaves
it, which bodes no good to him, and I fear some new disturbance. But
I never in my life knew an Englishman or a Scotchman so cowardly as
Law; it is the possession of fortune that destroys courage; men do not
willingly give up wealth.