Mr. Law is a very honest and a very sensible man; he is extremely polite
to everybody, and very well bred. He does not speak French ill--at
least, he speaks it much better than Englishmen in general. It is said
that when his brother arrived in Paris, Mr. Law made him a present of
three millions (of livres); he has good talents, and has put the affairs
of the State in such good order that all the King’s debts have been paid.
He is admirably skilled in all that relates to finance. The late King
would have been glad to employ him, but, as Mr. Law was not a Catholic,
he said he ought not to confide in him (19th Sept., 1719).
He (Law) says that, of all the persons to whom he has explained his
system, there have been only two who have properly comprehended it, and
these are the King of Sicily and my son; he was quite astonished at their
having so readily understood it. He is so much run after, that he has no
repose by day or by night. A Duchess even kissed his hand publicly.
If a Duchess can do this, what will not other ladies do?
Another lady, who pursued him everywhere, heard that he was at Madame de
Simiane’s, and immediately begged the latter to permit her to dine with
her. Madame de Simiane went to her and said she must be excused for that
day, as Mr. Law was to dine with her. Madame de Bouchu replied that it
was for this reason expressly she wished to be invited. Madame de
Simiane only repeated that she did not choose to have Mr. Law troubled,
and so quitted her. Having, however, ascertained the dinner-hour, Madame
de Bouchu passed before the house in her coach, and made her coachman and
footman call out “Fire!” Immediately all the company quitted the table
to know where the fire was, and among them Mr. Law appeared. As soon as
Madame de Bouchu saw him, she jumped out of her carriage to speak to him;
but he, guessing the trick, instantly disappeared.
Another lady ordered her carriage to be driven opposite to Mr. Law’s
hotel and then to be overturned. Addressing herself to the coachman, she
said, “Overturn here, you blockhead--overturn!” Mr. Law ran out to her
assistance, when she confessed to him that she had done this for the sole
purpose of having an interview with him.
[Illustration: Overturn here, you blockhead--290]
A servant had gained so much in the Rue de Quincampoix, that he was
enabled to set up his equipage. When his coach was brought home, he
forgot who he was, and mounted behind. His servant cried out, “Ah, sir!
what are you doing? this is your own carriage.”
“That is true,” said the quondam servant; “I had forgotten.”
Mr. Law’s coachman having also made a very considerable sum, demanded
permission to retire from his service. His master gave it him, on
condition of his procuring him another good coachman. On the next day,
the wealthy coachman made his appearance with two persons, both of whom
were, he said, good coachmen; and that Mr. Law had only to choose which
of them he liked, while he, the coachman, would take the other.
People of all nations in Europe are daily coming to Paris; and it has
been remarked that the number of souls in the capital has been increased
by 250,000 more than usual. It has been necessary to make granaries into
bedrooms; there is such a profusion of carriages that the streets are
choked up with them, and many persons run great danger.
Some ladies of quality seeing a well-dressed woman covered with diamonds,
and whom nobody knew, alight from a very handsome carriage, were curious
to know who it was, and sent to enquire of the lackey. He replied, with
a sneer, “It is a lady who has recently tumbled from a garret into this
carriage.” This lady was probably of the same sort as Madame Bejon’s
cook. That lady, being at the opera, some days back, saw a person in
a costly dress, and decorated with a great quantity of jewels, but very
ugly, enter the theatre. The daughter said, “Mamma, unless I am very
much deceived, that lady so dressed out is Mary, our cook-maid.”
“Hold your tongue, my dear,” said the mother, “and don’t talk such
nonsense.”
Some of the young people, who were in the amphitheatre, began to cry out,
“Mary, the cook-maid! Mary, the cook-maid!”
The lady in the fine dress rose and said, “Yes, madam, I am Mary, the
cook-maid; I have gained some money in the Rue de Quincampoix; I like to
be well-dressed; I have bought some fine gowns, and I have paid for them.
Can you say so much for your own?”
Mr. Law is not the only person who has bought magnificent jewels and
extensive estates. The Duke, too, has become immensely rich, as well as
all those who have held stock. Mr. Law has made his abjuration at Melun;
he has embraced the Catholic religion, with his children, and his wife is
in utter despair at it.
[The abjuration did not take place at Paris, because the jokes of
the Parisians were to be dreaded. The Abbe Tencin was so fortunate
as to have the office of converting Mr. Law. “He gained by this
pious labour,” says Duclos, “a large sum in bank-notes and stock.”]
It is amusing enough to see how the people run after him in crowds only
to be looked at by him or his son. He has had a terrible quarrel with
the Prince de Conti, who wished Mr. Law to do at the bank a thing which
my son had forbidden. The Prince de Conti said to Mr. Law, “Do you know
who I am?”
“Yes, Prince,” replied Law, “or I should not treat you as I have done.”
“Then,” said the Prince, “you ought to obey me.”
“I will obey you,” replied Law, “when you shall be Regent;” and he
withdrew.
The Princesse de Leon would be taken to the bank, and made her footmen
cry out, “Room for the Princesse de Lion.” At the same time she, who is
very little, slipped into the place where the bankers and their clerks
were sitting.
“I want some stock,” said she.
The clerk replied, “You must have patience, madame, the certificates are
delivered in rotation, and you must wait until those who applied before
you are served.”
At the same time he opened the drawer where the stock-papers were kept;
the Princess snatched at them; the clerk tried to prevent her, and a
fight ensued. The clerk was now alarmed at having beaten a lady of
quality, and ran out to ask the servants who the Princesse de Leon was.
One of the footmen-said, “She is a lady of high rank, young and
beautiful.”
“Well, then,” said the clerk, “it cannot be she.”
Another footman said, “The Princesse de Leon is a little woman with a
hunch before and another behind, and with arms so long that they nearly
reach the ground.”
“Then,” replied the clerk, “that is she.”
Mr. Law is not avaricious; he gives away large soma in charity, and
assists many indigent people.
When my son wanted some Duchess to accompany my daughter to Geneva, some
one, who heard him speaking about it, said, “if, Monsieur, you would like
to select from a number of Duchesses, send to Mr. Law’s; you will find
them all there.”
Lord Stair cannot conceal his hatred of Mr. Law, and yet he has gained at
least three millions by him.
Mr. Law’s son was to have danced in the King’s ballet, but he has been
attacked by the small-pox (9th Feb., 1720).
.........................
My son has been obliged to displace Mr. Law. This person, who was
formerly worshipped like a god, is now not sure of his life;
it is astonishing how greatly terrified he is. He is no longer
Comptroller-General, but continues to hold the place of Director-General
of the Bank and of the East India Company; certain members of the
Parliamentary Council have, however, been joined with him to watch over
the business of the Bank.
[In the Council of the Regency, the Duc d’Orleans was obliged to:
admit that Law issued papers to the amount of 1,200 millions above
the legal sum; and that he (the Regent) had protected him from all
responsibility by decrees of the Council which had been ante-dated.
The total, amount of bank-notes in circulation was 2,700,000,000
livres.]
His friend, the Duc d’Antin wanted to get the place of Director.
The Duke at first spoke strongly against Law; but it is said that a sum
of four millions, three of which went to him and one to Madame de Prie,
has engaged him to undertake Law’s defence. My son is not timid,
although he is threatened on all sides, and is very much amused with
Law’s terrors (25th June, 1720).
At length the latter is somewhat recovered, and continues to be great
friends with the Duke: this is very pleasant to the Duc de Conti, and
makes him behave so strangely that his infirmity is observed by the
people. It is fortunate for us that Law is so great a coward, otherwise
he would be very troublesome to my son, who, learning that he was joining
in a cabal against him, told his wife of it. “Well, Monsieur,” said she,
“what would you have him do? He likes to be talked of, and he has no
other way of accomplishing it. What would people have to say of him if
he did not?”
On the 17th of June, while I was at the Carmelites, Madame de
Chateau-Thiers came to me in my chamber, and said, “M. de Simiane is
just come in from the Palais Royal, and he thinks it fit you should know
that upon your return you will find the court of the Palais Royal filled
with people, who, though they do not say anything, will not disperse.”
At six o’clock this morning they brought in three dead bodies, which M.
Le Blanc ordered to be carried away immediately.
Mr. Law has taken refuge in the Palais Royal. The populace have done him
no harm, but his coachman has been pelted on his return, and the carriage
broken to pieces. It was the coachman’s own fault, who said aloud that
the people were rabble, and ought to be all hanged. I saw immediately
that it would not do to display any fear, and I set off. There was such
a stoppage of the carriages that I was obliged to wait half an hour
before I could get into the Palais Royal. During this time I heard the
people talking; they said nothing against my son, and bestowed
benedictions upon me, but they all wished Law to be hanged. When I
reached the Palais Royal all was calm again; my son came to me
immediately, and, notwithstanding the alarm I had felt, he made me laugh;
as for himself, he had not the least fear. He told me that the first
president had made a good impromptu upon this affair. Having occasion to
go down into the court, he heard what the people had done with Law’s
carriage, and, upon returning to the Salon, he said with great gravity:
“Messieurs, bonne nouvelle,
Le carrosse de Law est en canelle.”
Is not this a becoming jest for such serious personages? M. Le Blanc
went into the midst of the people with great firmness, and made a speech
to them; he afterwards had Law escorted home and all became tranquil.
It is almost impossible that Law should escape, for the same soldiers who
protect him from the fury of the people will not permit him to go out of
their hands. He is by no means at his ease, and yet I think the people
do not now intend to pursue him any farther, for they have begun to make
all kinds of songs about him.
Law is said to be in such an agony of fear that he has not been able to
venture to my son’s at Saint Cloud, although he sent a carriage to fetch
him. He is a dead man; he is as pale as a sheet, and it is said can
never get over his last panic. The people’s hatred of the Duke arises
from his being the friend of Law, whose children he carried to Saint
Maur, where they are to remain.
M. Boursel, passing through the Rue Saint Antoine in his way from the
Jesuits’ College, had his carriage stopped by a hackney coachman, who
would neither come on nor go back. M. Boursel’s footman, enraged at his
obstinacy, struck the coachman, and, M. Boursel getting out of his coach
to restrain his servant’s rage, the coachman resolved to be avenged of
both master and man, and so began to cry out, “Here is Law going to kill
me; fall upon him.”
The people immediately ran with staves and stones, and attacked Boursel,
who took refuge in the church of the Jesuits. He was pursued even to the
altar, where he found a little door opened which led into the convent.
He rushed through and shut it after him, by which means he saved his
life.
M. de Chiverni, the tutor of the Duc de Chartres, was going into the
Palais Royal in a chair, when a child about eight years old cried out,
“There goes Law!” and the people immediately assembled. M. Chiverni, who
is a little, meagre-faced, ugly old man, said pleasantly enough, “I knew
very well I had nothing to fear when I should show them my face and
figure.”
As soon as they saw him they suffered him to get quietly into his chair
and to enter the gates of the palace.
On the 10th of December (1720), Law withdrew; he is now at one of his
estates about six miles from Paris. The Duke, who wished to visit him,
thought proper to take Mdlle. de Prie’s post-chaise, and put his footman
into a grey livery, otherwise the people would have known and have
maltreated him.
Law is gone to Brussels; Madame de Prie lent him her chaise. When he
returned it, he wrote thanking her, and at the same time sent her a ring
worth 100,000 livres. The Duke provided him with relays, and made four
of his own people accompany him. When he took leave of my son, Law said
to him, “Monsieur, I have committed several great faults, but they are
merely such as are incident to humanity; you will find neither malice nor
dishonesty in my conduct.” His wife would not go away until she had paid
all their debts; he owed to his rotisseur alone 10,000 livres.
[Mr. Law retired to Venice, and there ended his days. Some memoirs
state that he was not married to the Englishwoman who passed for his
wife.]
BOOK 4.
Victor Amadeus II.
The Grand Duchess, Consort of Cosimo II. of Florence
The Duchesse de Lorraine, Elizabeth-Charlotte d’Orleans
The Duc du Maine
The Duchesse du Maine
Louvois
Louis XV.
Anecdotes and Historical Particulars of Various Persons
Explanatory Notes
SECTION XXXV.--VICTOR AMADEUS, KING OF SICILY.
It is said that the King of Sicily is always in ill humour, and that he
is always quarrelling with his mistresses. He and Madame de Verrue have
quarrelled, they say, for whole days together. I wonder how the good
Queen can love him with such constancy; but she is a most virtuous person
and patience itself. Since the King had no mistresses he lives upon
better terms with her. Devotion has softened his heart and his temper.
Madame de Verrue is, I dare say, forty-eight years of age (1718). I
shared some of the profits of her theft by buying of her 160 medals of
gold, the half of those which she stole from the King of Sicily. She had
also boxes filled with silver medals, but they were all sold in England.
[The Comtesse de Verrue was married at the age of thirteen years.
Victor Amadeus, then King of Sardinia, fell in love with her. She
would have resisted, and wrote to her mother and her husband, who
were both absent. They only joked her about it. She then took that
step which all the world knows. At the age of eighteen, being at a
dinner with a relation of her husband’s, she was poisoned. The
person she suspected was the same that was dining with her; he did
not quit her, and wanted to have her blooded. Just at this time the
Spanish Ambassador at Piedmont sent her a counter-poison which had a
happy effect: she recovered, but never would mention whom she
suspected. She got tired of the King, and persuaded her brother,
the Chevalier de Lugner, to come and carry her off, the King being
then upon a journey. The rendezvous was in a chapel about four
leagues distant from Turin. She had a little parrot with her. Her
brother arrived, they set out together, and, after having proceeded
four leagues on her journey, she remembered that she had forgotten
her parrot in the chapel. Without regarding the danger to which she
exposed her brother, she insisted upon returning to look for her
parrot, and did so. She died in Paris in the beginning of the reign
of Louis XV. She was fond of literary persons, and collected about
her some of the best company of that day, among whom her wit and
grace enabled her to cut a brilliant figure. She was the intimate
friend of the poet La Faye, whom she advised in his compositions,
and whose life she made delightful. Her fondness for the arts and
pleasure procured for her the appellation of ‘Dame de Volupte’, and
she wrote this epitaph upon herself:
“Ci git, dans un pais profonde,
Cette Dame de Volupte,
Qui, pour plus grande surete,
Fit son Paradis dans ce monde.”]
SECTION XXXVI.--THE GRAND DUCHESS, WIFE OF COSMO II. OF FLORENCE.
The Grand Duchess has declared to me, that, from the day on which she set
out for Florence, she thought of nothing but her return, and the means of
executing this design as soon as she should be able.
No one could approve of her deserting her husband, and the more
particularly as she speaks very well of him, and describes the manner of
living at Florence as like a terrestrial paradise.
She does not think herself unfortunate for having travelled, and looks
upon all the grandeur she enjoyed at Florence as not to be compared with
the unrestrained way of living in which she indulges here. She is very
amusing when she relates her own history, in the course of which she by
no means flatters herself.
“Indeed, cousin,” I say to her often, “you do not flatter yourself, but
you really tell things which make against you.”
“Ah, no matter,” she replies, “I care not, provided I never see the Grand
Duke again.”
She cannot be accused of any amorous intrigue.
Her husband furnishes her with very little money; and at this moment
(April, 1718) he owes her fifteen months of her pension. She is now
really in want of money to enable her to take the waters of Bourbon.
The Grand Duke, who is very avaricious, thinks she will die soon, and
therefore holds back the payments that he may take advantage of that
event when it shall happen.
SECTION XXXVII.--THE DUCHESSE DE LORRAINE, ELIZABETH-CHARLOTTE
PHILIPPINE D’ORLEANS, CONSORT OF LEOPOLD JOSEPH-CHARLES DE LORRAINE.
My daughter is ugly; even more so than she was, for the fine complexion
which she once had has become sun-burnt. This makes a great difference
in the appearance, and causes a person to look old. She has an ugly
round nose, and her eyes are sunken; but her shape is preserved, and, as
she dances well, and her manners are easy and polished, any one may see
that she is a person of breeding. I know many people who pique
themselves upon their good manners, and who still have not so much reason
as she has. At all events I am content with my child as she is; and I
would rather see her ugly and virtuous than pretty and profligate like
the rest.
Whenever the time of her accouchement approaches, she never fails to bid
her friends adieu, in the notion that she will die. Fortunately she has
hitherto always escaped well.
When jealousy is once suffered to take root, it is impossible to
extirpate it--therefore it is better not to let it gain ground. My
daughter pretends not to be affected by hers, but she often suffers great
affliction from it. This is not astonishing, because she is very fond of
her children; and the woman with whom the Duke is infatuated, together
with her husband, do not leave him a farthing; they completely ruin his
household. Craon is an accursed cuckold and a treacherous man. The Duc
de Lorraine knows that my daughter is acquainted with everything, and I
believe he likes her the better that she does not remonstrate with him,
but endures all patiently. He is occasionally kind to her, and, provided
that he only says tender things to her, she is content and cheerful.
I should almost believe that the Duke’s mistress has given him a philtre,
as Neidschin did to the Elector of Saxony. When he does not see her, it
is said he perspires copiously at the head, and, in order that the
cuckold of a husband may say nothing about the affair, the Duke suffers
him to do whatever he pleases. He and his wife, who is gouvernante, rule
everything, although neither the one nor the other has any feeling of
honour. She is to come hither, it seems, with the Duke and Duchess.
The Duc de Lorraine is here incog.
[He came to Paris for the purpose of soliciting an arrondissement in
Champagne and the title of Royal Highness. Through the influence of
his mother-in-law he obtained both the one and the other. By virtue
of a treaty very disadvantageous for France, but which was
nevertheless registered by the Parliament, he increased his states
by adding to them a great number of villages.]
under the title of the Comte de Blamont. Formerly the chase was his
greatest passion; but now, it seems, the swain is wholly amorous. It is
in vain for him to attempt to conceal it; for the more he tries, the more
apparent it becomes. When you would suppose he is about to address you,
his head will turn round, and his eyes wander in search of Madame Craon;
it is quite diverting to see him. I cannot conceive how my daughter can
love her husband so well, and not display more jealousy. It is
impossible for a man to be more amorous than the Duke is of Craon (19th
of April, 1718).
It cannot be denied that she (Madame de Craon) is full of agreeable
qualities. Although she is not a beauty, she has a good shape, a fine
skin, and a very white complexion; but her greatest charms are her mouth
and teeth. When she laughs it is in a very pleasing and modest manner;
she behaves properly and respectfully in my daughter’s presence; if she
did the same when she is not with her, one would have nothing to complain
of. It is not surprising that such a woman should be beloved; she really
deserves it. But she treats her lover with the utmost haughtiness, as if
she were the Duchesse de Lorraine and he M. de Luneville. I never saw a
man more passionately attached than he appears to be; when she is not
present, he fixes his eyes upon the door with an expression of anxiety;
when she appears, he smiles and is calm; it is really very droll to
observe him. She, on the contrary, wishes to prevent persons from
perceiving it, and seems to care nothing about him. As the Duke was
crossing a hall here with her upon his arm, some of the people said
aloud, “That is the Duc de Lorraine with his mistress.” Madame Craon
wept bitterly, and insisted upon the Duke complaining of it to his
brother. The Duke did in fact complain; but my son laughed at him, and
replied, “that the King himself could not prevent that; that he should
despise such things, and seem not to hear them.”
Madame Craon was my daughter’s fille d’honneur; she was then called
Mademoiselle de Ligneville, and there it was that the Duke fell in love
with her. M. Craon was in disgrace with the Duke, who was about to
dismiss him as a rascal, for having practised a sharping trick at play;
but, as he is a cunning fellow, he perceived the Duke’s love for
Mademoiselle de Ligneville, although he pretended to make a great mystery
of it. About this time Madame de Lenoncourt, my daughter’s dame d’atour,
happened to die. The Duke managed to have Mademoiselle de Ligneville
appointed in her room; and Craon, who is rich, offered to marry this poor
lady. The Duke was delighted with the plan of marrying her to one who
would lend himself to the intrigue; and thus she became Madame de Craon,
and dame d’atour. The old gouvernante dying soon afterwards, my daughter
thought to gratify her husband, as well as Madame de Craon, by appointing
her dame d’honneur; and this it is that has brought such disgrace upon
her.
My daughter is in despair. Craon and his wife want to take a journey of
ten days, for the purpose of buying a marquisate worth 800,000 livres.
The Duke will not remain during this time with his wife, but chooses it
for an opportunity to visit all the strong places of Alsatia. He will
stay away until the return of his mistress and her husband; and this it
is which makes my poor daughter so unhappy. The Duke now neither sees
nor hears anything but through Craon, his wife, and their creatures.
I do not think that my daughter’s attachment to her husband is so strong
as it used to be, and yet I think she loves him very much; for every
proof of fondness which he gives her rejoices her so much that she sends
me word of it immediately. He can make her believe whatever he chooses;
and, although she cannot doubt the Duke’s passion for Madame de Craon,
yet, when he says that he feels only friendship for her, that he is quite
willing to give up seeing her, only that he fears by doing so he would
dishonour her in the eyes of the public, and that there is nothing he is
not ready to do for his wife’s repose, she receives all he says
literally, beseeches him to continue to see Madame de Craon as usual, and
fancies that her husband is tenderly attached to her, while he is really
laughing at her. If I were in my daughter’s place, the Duke’s falsehood
would disgust me more than his infidelity.
What appears to me the most singular in this intrigue is that the Duke is
as fond of the husband as of the wife, and that he cannot live without
him. This is very difficult to comprehend; but M. de Craon understands
it well, and makes the most of it; he has already bought an estate for
1,100,000 livres.
[The Marquis de Craon was Grand Chamberlain and Prime Minister of
the Duc de Lorraine; who, moreover, procured for him from the
Emperor of Germany the title of Prince. This favourite married one
of his daughters to the Prince de Ligin, of the House of Lorraine.]
The burning of Lundville was not the effect of an accident; it is well
known that some of the people stopped a woman’s mouth, who was crying out
“Fire!” A person was also heard to say, “It was not I who set it on
fire.” My daughter thinks that Old Maintenon would have them all burnt;
for the person who cried out has been employed, it seems, in the house of
the Duc de Noailles. For my part, I am rather disposed to believe it was
the young mistress, Madame de Craon, who had a share in this matter; for
Luneville is my daughter’s residence and dowry.
SECTION XXXVIII.--THE DUC DU MAINE, LOUIS-AUGUSTUS.
The Duc du Maine flattered himself that he would marry my daughter.
Madame de Maintenon and Madame de Montespan were arranging this project
in presence of several merchants, to whom they paid no attention, but the
latter, engaging in the conversation, said, “Ladies, do not think of any
such thing, for it will cost you your lives if you bring about that
marriage.”
Madame de Maintenon was dreadfully frightened at this, and immediately
went to the King to persuade him to relinquish the affair.
The Duc du Maine possesses talent, which he displays particularly in his
manner of relating anything. He knows very well who is his mother, but
he has never had the least affection for any one but his gouvernante,
against whom he never bore ill-will, although she displaced his mother
and put herself in her room. My son will not believe that the Duc du
Maine is the King’s son. He has always been treacherous, and is feared
and hated at Court as an arch tale-bearer. He has done many persons very
ill offices with the King; and those in particular to whom he promised
most were those who have had the greatest reason to complain of him. His
little wife is worse even than he, for the husband is sometimes
restrained by fear; but she mingles the pathetic occasionally in her
comedies. It is certain that there does not exist a more false and
wicked couple in the whole world than they are.
I can readily believe that the Comte de Toulouse is the King’s son; but I
have always thought that the Duc du Maine is the son of Terme, who was a
false knave, and the greatest tale-bearer in the Court.
That old Maintenon had persuaded the King that the Duc du Maine was full
of piety and virtue. When he reported evil tales of any persons, she
pretended that it was for their good, and to induce the King to correct
them. The King was, therefore, induced to fancy everything he did
admirable, and to take him for a saint. The confessor, Le Pere
Letellier, contributed to keep up this good opinion in order to pay court
to the old woman; and the late Chancellor, M. Voisin, by her orders
continued to aid the King’s delusion.
The Duc du Maine fancied that, since he had succeeded in getting himself
declared a Prince of the blood, he should not find it difficult on that
account to attain the royal dignity, and that he could easily arrange
everything with respect to my son and the other Princes of the blood.
For this reason he and the old woman industriously circulated the report
that my son had poisoned the Dauphine and the Duc de Berri. The Duc du
Maine was instigated by Madame de Montespan and Madame de Maintenon to
report things secretly to the King; at first for the purpose of making
him bark like a cur at all whom they disliked, and afterwards for the
King’s diversion, and to make themselves beloved by him.
These bastards are of so bad a disposition that God knows who was their
father.
Yesterday the Parliament presented its remonstrance to my son. It is
not difficult to guess whence this affair proceeds. They were closeted
for four hours together with the Duc and Duchesse du Maine, who had the
Councillors brought thither in their coach, and attended by their own
livery servants (20th June, 1718).
I believe that my son is only, restrained from acting rigorously against
the Duc du Maine because he fears the tears and anger of his wife; and,
in the second place, he, has an affection for his other brother-in-law,
the Comte de Toulouse.
That old woman must surely think herself immortal, for she still hopes to
reign, though at the age of eighty-three years. The Duc du Maine’s
affair is a severe blow for her. She is, nevertheless, not without hope,
and it is said not excessively grieved. This fills me with anxiety, for
I know too well how expert the wicked old hussy is in the use of poison.
The first President of Mesmes ought to be friendly towards the Duc du
Maine, to whom he is indebted for the office he holds. The Duke keeps
all his places; as to that of Grand Master of Artillery, they could not
take it away unless they had proceeded to extremities with him.
The Duke became so devout in his prison, and during Passion week he
fasted so rigorously, that he fell sick in consequence. He says that he
is innocent and that he has gained heaven by the purity of his conduct;
this renders him gay and contented. He is not, besides, of a sorrowful
temper, but, on the contrary, is fond of jests and merry tales. He does
not speak ill of persons publicly; it was only to the King he used to
denounce them.
Yesterday my son was requested to permit the Duc du Maine to be
reconciled with his wife. His answer was, “They might have been
reconciled without speaking to me about it, for whether they become
friends again or not, I know what to think of them.”
SECTION XXXIX.--THE DUCHESSE DU MAINE, LOUISE-BENOITE, DAUGHTER OF
HENRI-JULES DE CONDE.
[Illustration: Duchesse du Maine--314]
Madame du Maine is not taller than a child ten years old, and is not well
made. To appear tolerably well, it is necessary for her to keep her
mouth shut; for when she opens it, she opens it very wide, and shows her
irregular teeth. She is not very stout, uses a great quantity of paint,
has fine eyes, a white skin, and fair hair. If she were well disposed,
she might pass, but her wickedness is insupportable.
She has good sense, is accomplished, and can talk agreeably on most
subjects. This brings about her a host of learned men and wits. She
flatters the discontented very adroitly, and says all ill things of my
son. This is the secret by which she has made her party. Her husband is
fond of her, and she in turn piques herself upon her love for him; but I
should be sorry to swear to her sincerity. This at least is certain,
that she rules the Duc du Maine absolutely. As he holds several offices,
he can provide for a great number of persons, either in the regiment of
Guards, of which he is General; or in the Artillery, of which he is Grand
Master; or in the Carabineers, where he appoints all the officers;
without reckoning his regiments, by which he attracts a great number of
persons.
Madame du Maine’s present lover is the Cardinal de Polignac; but she has,
besides, the first Minister and some young men. The Cardinal is accused
of having assisted in the refutation of Fitz-Morris’s letters, although
he has had this very year (1718) a long interview with my son, and has
sworn never to engage in anything against his interests, notwithstanding
his attachment to the Duchesse du Maine.
The Comte d’Albert, who was here last winter, took some pains to make
himself agreeable to Madame du Maine, and succeeded so well as to make
the Cardinal de Polignac very jealous. He followed them masked to a
ball; but upon seeing the Duchess and the Count tete-a-tete, he could not
contain his anger this betrayed him; and when the people learned that a
Cardinal had been seen at a masked ball it caused them great diversion.
Her being arrested threw Madame du Maine into such a transport of rage
that she was near choking, and only recovered herself by slow degrees.
[The Marquis d’Ancenis, Captain of the Guards, who came early in the
morning to arrest the Princess, had supped with her on the preceding
evening, when he entered, the Duchess cried out to him, “Mon Dieu!
what have I done to you, that you should wake me so early?” The
chief domestics of the household were taken to the Bastille or to
Vincennes; the Prince of Dombes and the Comte d’Eu were carried to
Eu.]
She is now said to be quite calm, and, it is added, she plays at cards
all day long. When the play is over, she grows angry again, and falls
upon her husband, his children, or her servants, who do not know how to
appease her. She is dreadfully violent, and, it is said, has often
beaten her husband.
All the time of her residence at Dijon she was playing the Orlando
Furioso: sometimes she was not treated with the respect due to her rank;
sometimes she complains of other things; she will not understand that she
is a prisoner, and that she has deserved even a worse fate. She had
flattered herself that when she should reach Chalons-sur-Saone she would
enjoy more liberty, and have the whole city for her prison; but when she
learnt that she was to be locked up in the citadel, as at Dijon, she
would not set out. Far from repenting her treason, she fancies she has
done something very praiseworthy.
Melancholy as I am, my son has made me laugh by telling me what has been
found in Madame du Maine’s letters, seized at the Cardinal de Polignac’s.
In one of her letters, this very discreet and virtuous personage writes,
“We are going into the country tomorrow; and I shall so arrange the
apartments that your chamber shall be next to mine. Try to manage
matters as well as you did the last time, and we shall be very happy.”
The Princess knows very well that her daughter has had an intrigue with
the Cardinal, and has endeavoured to break it off. For this purpose she
has convinced her by the Cardinal’s own letters that he is unfaithful to
her, and prefers a certain Montauban to her. This, however, has had no
effect. The Duc du Maine has been informed of everything, and he writes
to her sister, “I ought not to be put into prison, but into petticoats,
for having suffered myself to be so led by the nose.”
He has resolved never to see his wife again, although he does not yet
know of the Duchess’s letter to the Cardinal, nor of the other measures
she has taken for the purpose of decorating her husband’s brows.
Madame du Maine will eventually become really crazy, for she is
dreadfully troubled with the vapours. Her mother has entreated my son
to let her daughter be brought to her house at Anet, where she will be
answerable for her conduct and suffer her to speak with no one.
My son replied, “that if Madame du Maine had only conspired against his
life, he would have pardoned her with all his heart; but that, as her
offence had been committed against the State, he was obliged, in spite of
himself, to keep her in prison.”
It is not true that the Duc du Maine has permission to hunt; he is only
allowed to ride upon a hired horse round the citadel, to take the air,
in the company of four persons.
The Abbe de Maulevrier and Mademoiselle de Langeron persuaded the
Princess that Madame du Maine was at the point of death, and was only
desirous of seeing her dear mother before she expired, to receive her
last benediction, as she should die innocent. The Princess immediately
set out in great anxiety and with deep grief; but was strangely
surprised, on arriving at her daughter’s house, to see her come to meet
her in very good health. Mademoiselle de Langeron said that the Duchess
concealed her illness that she might not make her mother unhappy.
After the confession which Madame du Maine thought proper to make, which
she has confirmed by writing, my son has set her at liberty, and has
permitted her to come to Sceaux. She is terribly mortified at her letter
being read in the open Council. As she has declared in her confession
that she had done everything without her husband’s knowledge, although in
his name, he, too, has been permitted to return to his estate of
Chavigny, near Versailles.
Madame du Maine had written to my son that, in the event of her having
omitted anything in her declaration, he would only have to ask
Mademoiselle de Launay about it. He sent in consequence for that lady,
to ask her some questions. Mademoiselle de Launay replied: “I do not
know whether her imprisonment may have turned my mistress’s brain, but it
has not had the same effect upon me; I neither know, nor will I say
anything.”
Madame du Maine had gained over certain gentlemen in all the Provinces,
and had tampered with them to induce them to revolt; but none of them
would swallow the bait excepting in Brittany.
She has not been at the theatre yet; meaning, by this, to intimate that
she is still afflicted at lying under her husband’s displeasure. It is
said that she has written to him, but that he has returned her letter
unopened.
She came some days ago to see my son, and to request him not to oppose a
reconciliation between herself and her husband. My son laughed and said,
“I will not interfere in it; for have I not learned from Sganarelle that
it is not wise to put one’s finger between the bark and the tree?”
The town says they will be reconciled. If this really should take place,
I shall say as my father used: “Agree together, bad ones!”
My son tells me that the little Duchess has again besought him to
reconcile her with her husband. My son replied, “that it depended much
more upon herself than upon him.” I do not know whether she took this
for a compliment, or what crotchet she got in her head, but she suddenly
jumped up from the sofa, and clung about my son’s neck, kissing him on
both cheeks in spite of himself (18th June, 1720).
The Duc du Maine is entirely reconciled to his dear moiety. I am not
surprised, for I have been long expecting it.
SECTION XL.--LOUVOIS
M. de Louvois was a person of a very wicked disposition; he hated his
father and brother, and, as they were my very good friends, this minister
made me feel his dislike of them. His hatred was also increased, because
he knew that I was acquainted with his ill-treatment of my father, and
that I had no reason in the world to like him. He feared that I should
seek to take vengeance upon him, and for this reason he was always
exciting the King against me. Upon this point alone did he agree with
that old, Maintenon.
I believe that Louvois had a share in the conspiracy by which Langhans
and Winkler compassed my poor brother’s death. When the King had taken
the Palatinate, I required him to arrest the culprits; the King gave
orders for it, and they were in fact seized, but afterwards liberated by
a counter-order of Louvois. Heaven, however, took care of their
punishment for the crime which they had committed upon my poor brother;
for Langhans died in the most abject wretchedness, and Winkler went mad
and beat his own brains out.
There is no doubt that the King spoke very harshly to Louvois, but
certainly he did not treat him as has been pretended, for the King was
incapable of such an action. Louvois was a brute and an insolent person;
but he served the King faithfully, and much better than any other person.
He did not, however, forget his own interest, and played his cards very
well. He was horribly depraved, and by his impoliteness and the
grossness of his replies made himself universally hated. He might,
perhaps, believe in the Devil; but he did not believe in God. He had
faith in all manner of predictions, but he did not scruple to burn,
poison, lie and cheat.
If he did not love me very well, I was at least even with him; and, for
the latter part of his time, he conducted himself somewhat better. I was
one of the last persons to whom he spoke, and I was even shocked when it
was announced that the man with whom I had been conversing a quarter of
an hour before, and who did not look ill, was no more.
They have not yet learnt, although I have resided so long in France, to
respect my seal. M. de Louvois used to have all my letters opened and
read; and M. Corey, following his noble example, has not been more
courteous to me. Formerly they used to open them for the purpose of
finding something to my prejudice, and now (1718) they open them through
mere habit.
SECTION XLI.--LOUIS XV.
It is impossible for any child to be more agreeable than our young King;
he has large, dark eyes and long, crisp eyelashes; a good complexion, a
charming little mouth, long and thick dark-brown hair, little red cheeks,
a stout and well-formed body, and very pretty hands and feet; his gait is
noble and lofty, and he puts on his hat exactly like the late King. The
shape of his face is neither too long nor too short; but the worst thing,
and which he inherits from his mother, is, that he changes colour very
frequently. Sometimes he looks ill, but in half an hour his colour will
have returned. His manners are easy, and it may be said, without
flattery, that he dances very well. He is quick and clever in all that
he attempts; he has already (1720) begun to shoot at pheasants and
partridges, and has a great passion for shooting.
He is as like his mother as one drop of water is to another; he has sense
enough, and all that he seems to want is a little more affability. He is
terribly haughty, and already knows what respect is. His look is what
may be called agreeable, but his air is milder than his character, for
his little head is rather an obstinate and wilful one.
The young King was full of grief when Madame de Ventadour quitted him.
She said to him, “Sire, I shall come back this evening; mind that you
behave very well during my absence.”
“My dear mamma,” replied he, “if you leave me I cannot behave well.”
He does not care at all for any of the other women.
The Marechal de Villeroi teases the young King sometimes about not
speaking to me enough, and sometimes about not walking with me. This
afflicts the poor child and makes him cry. His figure is neat, but he
will speak only to persons he is accustomed to.
On the 12th August (1717), the young King fell out of his bed in the
morning; a valet de chambre, who saw him falling, threw himself adroitly
on the ground, so that the child might tumble upon him and not hurt
himself; the little rogue thrust himself under the bed and would not
speak, that he might frighten his attendants.
The King’s brother died of the small-pox in consequence of being
injudiciously blooded; this one, who is younger than his brother, was
also attacked, but the femme de chambre concealed it, kept him warm, and
continued to give him Alicant wine, by which means they preserved his
life.
The King has invented an order which he bestows: upon the boys with whom
he plays. It is a blue and white ribbon, to which is suspended an
enamelled oval plate, representing a star and the tent or pavilion in
which he plays on the terrace (1717).
SECTION XLII.--ANECDOTES AND HISTORICAL PARTICULARS RELATING TO VARIOUS
PERSONS.
Some horrible books had been written against Cardinal Mazarin, with which
he pretended to be very much enraged, and had all the copies bought up to
be burnt. When he had collected them all, he caused them to be sold in
secret, and as if it were unknown to him, by which contrivance he gained
10,000 crowns. He used to laugh and say, “The French are delightful
people; I let them sing and laugh, and they let me do what I will.”
In Flanders it is the custom for the monks to assist at all fires. It
appeared to me a very whimsical spectacle to see monks of all colours,
white, black and brown, running hither and thither with their frocks
tucked up and carrying pails.
The Chevalier de Saint George is one of the best men in the world, and
complaisance itself. He one day said to Lord Douglas, “What should I do
to gain the good-will of my countrymen?” Douglas replied, “Only embark
hence with twelve Jesuits, and as soon as you land in England hang every
one of them publicly; you can do nothing so likely to recommend you to
the English people.”
It is said that at one of the masked balls at the opera, a mask entered
the box in which were the Marechals de Villars and d’Estrees. He said to
the former, “Why do you not go below and dance?” The Marshal replied,
“If I were younger I could, but not crippled as you see I am.”--“Oh, go
down,” rejoined the mask, “and the Marechal d’Estrees too; you will cut
so brilliant a figure, having both of you such large horns.” At the same
time he put up his fingers in the shape of horns. The Marechal d’Estrees
only laughed, but the other was in a great rage and said, “You are a most
insolent mask, and I do not know what will restrain me from giving you a
good beating.”--“As to a good beating;” replied the mask, “I can do a
trifle in that way myself when necessary; and as for the insolence of
which you accuse me, it is sufficient for me to say that I am masked.”
He went away as he said this, and was not seen again.
The King of Denmark has the look of a simpleton; he made love to my
daughter while he was here. When they were dancing he used to squeeze
her hand, and turn up his eyes languishingly. He would begin his minuet
in one corner of the hall and finish it in another. He stopped once in
the middle of the hall and did not know what to do next. I was quite
uneasy at seeing him, so I got up and, taking his hand, led him away, or
the good gentleman might have strayed there until this time. He has no
notion of what is becoming or otherwise.
The Cardinal de Noailles is unquestionably a virtuous man; it would be a
very good thing if all the others were like him. We have here four of
them, and each is of a different character. Three of them resemble each
other in a certain particular--they are as false as counterfeit coin; in
every other respect they are directly opposite. The Cardinal de Polignac
is well made, sensible, and insinuating, and his voice is very agreeable;
but he meddles too much with politics, and is too much occupied with
seeking favour. The Cardinal de Rohan has a handsome face, as his
mother had, but his figure is despicable. He is as vain as a peacock,
and fancies that there is not his equal in the whole world. He is a
tricking intriguer, the slave of the Jesuits, and fancies he rules
everything, while in fact he rules nothing. The Cardinal de Bissi is as
ugly and clumsy as a peasant, proud, false and wicked, and yet a most
fulsome flatterer; his falsehood may be seen in his very eyes; his talent
he turns to mischievous purposes. In short, he has all the exterior of a
Tartuffe. These Cardinals could, if they chose, sell the Cardinal de
Noailles in a sack, for they are all much more cunning than he is.
With respect to the pregnancy of the Queen of England, the consort of
James II., whom we saw at Saint-Germain, it is well known that her
daughter-in-law maintains that she was not with child; but it seems to
me that the Queen might easily have taken measures to prove the contrary.
I spoke about it to Her Majesty myself. She replied “that she had begged
the Princess Anne to satisfy herself by the evidence of her own senses,
and to feel the motion of the child;” but the latter refused, and the
Queen added “that she never could have supposed that the persons who had
been in the habit of seeing her daily during her pregnancy could doubt
the fact of her having been delivered.”
[On the dethronement of James II., the party of William, Prince of
Orange, asserted that the Prince of Orange was a supposititious
child, and accused James of having spirited away the persona who
could have proved the birth of the Queen’s child, and of having made
the midwife leave the kingdom precipitately, she being the only
person who had actually seen the child born.]
A song has been made upon Lord Bolingbroke on the subject of his passion
for a young girl who escaped from her convent. Some persons say that the
girl was a professed nun. She ran after the Duke Regent a long time, but
could not accomplish her intention.
Lady Gordon, the grandaunt of Lord Huntley, was my dame d’atour for a
considerable period. She was a singular person, and always plunged into
reveries. Once when she was in bed and going to seal a letter, she
dropped the wax upon her own thigh and burnt herself dreadfully. At
another time, when she was also in bed and engaged in play, she threw the
dice upon the ground and spat in the bed. Once, too, she spat in the
mouth of my first femme de chambre, who happened to be passing at the
moment. I think if I had not interposed they would have come to blows,
so angry was the femme de chambre. One evening when I wanted my
head-dress to go to Court, she took off her gloves and threw them in my
face, putting on my head-dress at the same time with great gravity.
When she was speaking to a man she had a habit of playing with the
buttons of his waistcoat. Saving one day some occasion to talk to the
Chevalier Buveon, a Captain in the late Monsieur’s Guard, and he being a
very tall man, she could only reach his waistband, which she began to
unbutton. The poor gentleman was quite horror-stricken, and started
back, crying, “For Heaven’s sake, madame, what are you going to do?”
This accident caused a great laugh in the Salon of Saint Cloud.
They say that Lord Peterborough, speaking of the two Kings of Spain,
said, “What fools we are to cut each other’s throats for two such apes.”
Monteleon has good reason to be fond of the Princesse des Ursins, for she
made his fortune: he was an insignificant officer in the troop, but he
had talents and attached himself to this lady, who made of him what he
now is (1716).
The Abbess of Maubuisson, Louise Hollandine, daughter of Frederic V.,
Elector-Palatine of the days of Henri IV., had had so many illegitimate
children, that she commonly swore by her body, which had borne fourteen
children.
Cardinal Mazarin could not bear to have unfortunate persons about him.
When he was requested to take any one into his service, his first
question was, “Is he lucky?”
My son has never assisted the Pretender (Prince Edward Stuart), either
publicly or privately; and if my Lord Stair had chosen to contract a more
close alliance, as my son wished, he would have prevented the Pretender’s
staying in France and collecting adherents; but as that alliance was
declined, he merely confined himself to the stipulations contained in the
treaty of peace. He neither furnished the Pretender with arms nor money.
The Pope and some others gave him money, but my son could not, for he was
too much engaged in paying off the late King’s debts, and he would not on
account of that treaty. There can be no doubt that an attempt has been
made to embroil my son with the King of England; for, at the same time
that they were making the King believe my son was sustaining the
Pretender’s cause, they told my son that Lord Stair had interviews with
M. Pentenriedez, the Emperor’s Envoy, as well as with the Sicilian
Ambassador, the object of which was to make a league with those powers to
drive out the King of Spain and to set up the King of France in his
place, at the same time that Sicily should be given up to the
Emperor--in short, to excite all Europe against France. My son said
himself, that, since he was to confine himself to the articles of the
treaty of peace, he did not think he had any right to prevent the
Pretender’s passage through his kingdom; and as the army had been
reduced, he could not hinder the disbanded soldiers from taking service
wherever they chose. My son had no intention whatever to break with
England, although he has been told that there was a majority of two
voices only in that nation against declaring it at war with France. He
thinks Lord Stair is not his friend, and that he has not faithfully
reported to his monarch the state of things here, but would rather be
pleased to kindle the flames of a war. If that Minister had honestly
explained to the King my son’s intentions, the King would not have
refused to agree with them.
It is said here that the present Queen of Spain (1716), although she is
more beloved by her husband than was the last, has less influence over
him. The Abbe Alberoni has them both in his power, and governs them like
two children.
The English gentlemen and ladies who are here tell horrible stories of
Queen Anne. They say she gets quite drunk, and that besides but that she
is inconstant in her affections, and changes often. Lady Sandwich has
not told this to me, but she has to my son. I have seen her but seldom,
on account of the repugnance I felt at learning she had confessed she had
been present at such orgies.
I do not know whether it is true that Louvois was poisoned by that old
Maintenon, but it is quite certain that he was poisoned, as well as his
physician who committed the crime, and who said when he was dying, “I die
by poison, but I deserve it, for having poisoned my master, M. de
Louvois; and I did this in the hope of becoming the King’s physician, as
Madame de Maintenon had promised me.” I ought to add that some persons
pretend to think this story of Doctor Seron is a mere invention. Old
Piety (Maintenon) did not commit this crime without an object; but if she
really did poison Louvois, it was because he had opposed her designs and
endeavoured to undeceive the King. Louvois, the better to gain his
object, had advised the King not to take her with him to the army. The
King was weak enough to repeat this to her, and this it was that excited
her against Louvois. That the latter was a very bad man, who feared
neither heaven nor hell, no man can deny; but it must be confessed that
he served his King faithfully.
The Duke de Noailles’ grandfather was one of the ugliest men in the
world. He had one glass eye, and his nose was like an owl’s, his mouth
large, his teeth ugly and decayed, his face and head very small, his body
long and bent, and he was bitter and ill-tempered. His name was Gluinel.
Madame de Cornuel one day was reading his grandson’s genealogy, and, when
she came to his name, exclaimed, “I always suspected, when I saw the Duc
de Noailles, that he came out of the Book of the Lamentations of
Jeremiah!”
When James II. took refuge in France from England, Madame de Cornuel went
to Saint-Germain to see him. Some time afterwards, she was told of the
pains our King was taking to procure his restoration to the throne.
Madame de Cornuel shook her head, and said, “I have seen this King James;
our monarch’s efforts are all in vain; he is good for nothing but to make
poor man’s sauce. (La sauce au pauvre homme.)”
She went to Versailles to see the Court when M. de Torcy and M. de
Seignelay, both very young, had just been appointed Ministers. She saw
them, as well as Madame de Maintenon, who had then grown old. When she
returned to Paris, some one asked her what remarkable things she had
seen. “I have seen,” she said, “what I never expected to see there; I
have seen love in its tomb and the Ministry in its cradle.”
The elder Margrave of Anspach was smitten with Mademoiselle d’Armagnac,
but he would not marry her, and said afterwards that he had never
intended to do so, because the familiarities which had passed between
her and the Marquis de Villequier (1716) had disgusted him. The lady’s
mother would have liked nothing better than to surprise the Margrave with
her daughter in some critical situation: for this purpose he had
sufficient opportunities given him, but he was prudent, and conducted
himself with so much modesty, that he avoided the snare. To tell the
truth, I had given him a hint on the subject, for I was too well
acquainted with the mother, who is a very bad woman.
The Cardinal de Richelieu, notwithstanding his wit, had often fits of
distraction. Sometimes he would fancy himself a horse, and run jumping
about a billiard-table, neighing and snorting; this would last an hour,
at the end of which his people would put him to bed and cover him up
closely to induce perspiration; when he awoke the fit had passed and did
not appear again.
The Archbishop of Paris reprimanded the Bishop of Gap on the bad
reputation which he had acquired in consequence of his intercourse with
women. “Ah, Monseigneur,” replied the Bishop of Gap, “if you knew what
you talk of, you would not be astonished. I lived the first forty years
of my life without experiencing it; I don’t know what induced me to
venture on it, but, having done so, it is impossible to refrain. Only
try it for once, Monseigneur, and you will perceive the truth of what I
tell you.”
[This Bishop, whose name was Herve, had lived in prudence and
regularity up to the age of fifty, when he began, on a sudden, to
lead a very debauched life. They compelled him to give up his
Bishopric, which he did on condition of being allowed to stay at
Paris as much as he chose. He continued to live in perpetual
pleasure, but towards the close of his career he repented of his
sins and engaged with the Capuchin missionaries.]
This Bishop is now living in the village of Boulogne, near Paris: he is a
little priest, very ugly, with a large head and fiery red face.
Our late King said, “I am, I confess, somewhat piqued to see that,
with all the authority belonging to my station in this country, I have
exclaimed so long against high head-dresses, while no one had the
complaisance to lower them for me in the slightest degree. But now, when
a mere strange English wench arrives with a little low head-dress, all
the Princesses think fit to go at once from one extremity to another.”
A Frenchman who had taken refuge in Holland informed me by letter of what
was passing with respect to the Prince of Orange. Thinking that I should
do the King a service by communicating to him these news, I hastened to
him, and he thanked me for them. In the evening, however, he said to me,
smiling, “My Ministers will have it that you have been misinformed, and
that your correspondent has not written you one word of truth.”
I replied, “Time will show which is better informed, your Majesty’s
Ministers or my correspondent. For my own part, Sire, my intention at
least was good.”
Some time afterwards, when the report of the approaching accession of
William to the throne of England became public, M. de Torcy came to me to
beg I would acquaint him with my news. I replied, “I receive none now;
you told the King that what I formerly had was false, and upon this I
desired my correspondents to send me no more, for I do not love to spread
false reports.” He laughed, as he always did, and said, “Your news have
turned out to be quite correct.” I replied, “A great and able Minister
ought surely to have news more correct than I can obtain; and I have been
angry with myself for having formerly acquainted the King with the
reports which had reached me. I ought to have recollected that his
clever Ministers are acquainted with everything.” The King therefore
said to me, “You are making game of my Ministers.”--“Sire,” I replied, “I
am only giving them back their own.”
M. de Louvois was the only person who was well served by his spies;
indeed, he never spared his money. All the Frenchmen who went into
Germany or Holland as dancing or fencing-masters, esquires, etc., were
paid by him to give him information of whatever passed in the several
Courts. After his death this system was discontinued, and thus it is
that the present Ministers are so ignorant of the affairs of other
nations.
Lauzun says the drollest things, and takes the most amusing, roundabout
way of intimating whatever he does not care to say openly. For example,
when he wished the King to understand that the Count de Marsan, brother
of M. Legrand, had attached himself to M. Chamillard, the then Minister,
he took the following means: “Sire,” said he, with an air of the utmost
simplicity, as if he had not the least notion of malice, “I wished to
change my wigmaker, and employ the one who is now the most in fashion;
but I could not find him, for M. de Marsan has kept him shut up in his
room for several days past, making wigs for his household, and for M. de
Chamillard’s friends.”
The adventures of Prince Emmanuel of Portugal are a perfect romance.
His brother, the King, was desirous, it is said, at first, to have made
a priest and a Bishop of him; to this, however, he had an insuperable
objection, for he was in love. The King sent for him, and asked him if
it was true that he had really resolved not to enter the Church. On the
Prince’s replying in the affirmative, the King, his brother, struck him.
The Prince said, “You are my King and my brother, and therefore I cannot
revenge myself as I ought upon you; but you have put an insult upon me
which I cannot endure, and you shall never again see me in the whole
course of your life.” He is said to have set out on that very night.
His brother wrote to him, commanding his return from Paris to Holland; as
he made no reply to this command, his Governor and the Ambassador had no
doubt that it was his intention to obey it. In the course of last week
he expressed a desire to see Versailles and Marly. The Ambassador made
preparations for this excursion, and together with his wife accompanied
the Prince, whose Governor and one of his gentlemen were of the party.
Upon their return from Versailles, when they reached the courtyard, the
Prince called out to stop, and asked if there were any chaises ready:
“Yes, Monseigneur,” replied a voice, “there are four.”--“That will be
sufficient,” replied the Prince. Then addressing the Ambassador, he
expressed his warmest thanks for the friendly attention he had shown him,
and assured him that he desired nothing so much as an opportunity to
testify his gratitude. “I am now going to set out,” he added, “for
Vienna; the Emperor is my cousin; I have no doubt he will receive me,
and I shall learn in his army to become a soldier in the campaign against
the Turks.” He then thanked the Governor for the pains he had bestowed
upon his education; and promised that, if any good fortune should befall
him, his Governor should share it with him. He also said something
complimentary to his gentleman. He then alighted, called for the
post-chaises, and took his seat in one of them; his favourite, a young
man of little experience, but, as it is said, of considerable talent,
placed himself in another, and his two valets de chambre into the third
and fourth. That nothing may be wanting to the romantic turn of his
adventures, it is said, besides, that Madame de Riveira was the object of
his affection in Portugal before she was married; that he even wished to
make her his wife, but that his brother would not permit it. A short
time before his departure, the husband, who is a very jealous man, found
him at his wife’s feet; and this hastened the Prince’s departure.
Henri IV. had been one day told of the infidelity of one of his
mistresses. Believing that the King had no intention of visiting her,
she made an assignation with the Duc de Bellegarde in her own apartment.
The King, having caused the time of his rival’s coming to be watched,
when he was informed of his being there, went to his mistress’s room.
He found her in bed, and she complained of a violent headache. The King
said he was very hungry, and wanted some supper; she replied that she had
not thought about supper, and believed she had only a couple of
partridges. Henri IV. desired they should be served up, and said he
would eat them with her. The supper which she had prepared for
Bellegarde, and which consisted of much more than two partridges, was
then served up; the King, taking up a small loaf, split it open, and,
sticking a whole partridge into it, threw it under the bed. “Sire,”
cried the lady, terrified to death, “what are you doing?”--“Madame,”
replied the merry monarch, “everybody must live.” He then took his
departure, content with having frightened the lovers.
I have again seen M. La Mothe le Vayer; who, with all his sense, dresses
himself like a madman. He wears furred boots, and a cap which he never
takes off, lined with the same material, a large band, and a black velvet
coat.
We have had few Queens in France who have been really happy. Marie de
Medicis died in exile. The mother of the King and of the late Monsieur
was unhappy as long as her husband was alive. Our Queen Marie-Therese
said upon her death-bed, “that from the time of her becoming Queen she
had not had a day of real happiness.”
Lauzun sometimes affects the simpleton that he may say disagreeable
things with impunity, for he is very malicious. In order to hint to
Marechal de Tesse that he did wrong in being so familiar with the common
people, he called out to him one night in the Salon at Marly, “Marshal,
pray give me a pinch of snuff; but let it be good--that, for example,
which I saw you taking this morning with Daigremont the chairman.”