There was nothing for it but to appear very pleased, although the Regent

would gladly have dispensed with this visit. The expenses to be defrayed

were great; the trouble would be not less great with a prince so powerful

and so clear-sighted, but full of whims, with a remnant of barbarous

manners, and a grand suite of people, of behaviour very different from

that common in these countries, full of caprices and of strange fashions,

and both they and their master very touchy and very positive upon what

they claimed to be due or permitted to them.

Moreover the Czar was at daggers drawn with the King of England, the

enmity between them passing all decent limits, and being the more bitter

because personal. This troubled not a little the Regent, whose intimacy

with the King of England was public, the private interest of Dubois

carrying it even to dependence. The dominant passion of the Czar was to

render his territories flourishing by commerce; he had made a number of

canals in order to facilitate it; there was one for which he needed the

concurrence of the King of England, because it traversed a little corner

of his German dominions. From jealousy George would not consent to it.

Peter, engaged in the war with Poland, then in that of the North, in

which George was also engaged, negotiated in vain. He was all the more

irritated, because he was in no condition to employ force; and this

canal, much advanced, could not be continued. Such was the source of

that hatred which lasted all the lives of these monarchs, and with the

utmost bitterness.

Kourakin was of a branch of that ancient family of the Jagellons, which

had long worn the crowns of Poland, Denmark, Norway, and Sweden. He was

a tall, well-made man, who felt all the grandeur of his origin; had much

intelligence, knowledge of the way of managing men, and instruction. He

spoke French and several languages very fairly; he had travelled much,

served in war, then been employed in different courts. He was Russian to

the backbone, and his extreme avarice much damaged his talents. The Czar

and he had married two sisters, and each had a son. The Czarina had been

repudiated and put into a convent near Moscow; Kourakin in no way

suffered from this disgrace; he perfectly knew his master, with whom he

kept on very free terms, and by whom he was treated with confidence and

consideration. His last mission had been to Rome, where he remained

three years; thence he came as ambassador to Paris. At Rome he was

without official character, and without business except a secret one,

with which the Czar had entrusted him, as to a sure and enlightened man.

This monarch, who wished to raise himself and his country from barbarism,

and extend his power by conquests and treaties, had felt the necessity of

marriages, in order to ally himself with the chief potentates of Europe.

But to form such marriages he must be of the Catholic religion, from

which the Greeks were separated by such a little distance, that he

thought his project would easily be received in his dominions, if he

allowed liberty of conscience there. But this prince was sufficiently

sagacious to seek enlightenment beforehand upon Romish pretensions. He

had sent for that purpose to Rome a man of no mark, but capable of well

fulfilling his mission, who remained there five or six months, and who

brought back no very satisfactory report. Later he opened his heart in

Holland to King William, who dissuaded him from his design, and who

counselled him even to imitate England, and to make himself the chief of

his religion, without which he would never be really master in his own

country. This counsel pleased the Czar all the more, because it was by

the wealth and by the authority of the patriarchs of Moscow, his

grandfathers, and great-grandfathers, that his father had attained the

crown, although only of ordinary rank among the Russian nobility.

These patriarchs were dependent upon those of the Greek rite of

Constantinople but very slightly. They had obtained such great power,

and such prodigious rank, that at their entry into Moscow the Czar held

their stirrups, and, on foot, led their horse by the bridle: Since the

grandfather of Peter, there had been no patriarch at Moscow. Peter I.,

who had reigned some time with his elder brother, incapable of affairs,

long since dead, leaving no son, had, like his father, never consented to

have a patriarch there. The archbishops of Novgorod supplied their place

in certain things, as occupying the chief see after that of Moscow, but

with scarcely any authority that the Czar did not entirely usurp, and

more carefully still after King William had given him the counsel before

alluded to; so that by degrees he had become the real religious chief of

his vast dominions.

Nevertheless, the passionate desire he had to give to his posterity the

privilege of marrying with Catholic princes, the wish he had, above all,

for the honour of alliances with the house of France, and that of

Austria, made him return to his first project. He tried to persuade

himself that the man whom he had secretly sent to Rome had not been well

informed, or had ill understood; he resolved, therefore, to fathom his

doubts, so that he should no longer have any as to the course he ought to

adopt.

It was with this design that he chose Prince Kourakin, whose knowledge

and intelligence were known to him, and sent him to Rome under pretence

of curiosity, feeling that a nobleman of his rank would find the best,

the most important, and the most distinguished society there ready to

receive him; and that by remaining there, under pretext of liking the

life he led, and of wishing to see and admire at his ease all the marvels

of so many different kinds collected there, he should have leisure and

means to return perfectly instructed upon everything he wished to know.

Kourakin, in fact, remained in Rome three years, associating with the

savans on the one hand and the best company on the other, whence by

degrees he obtained all he wished to know; all the more readily because

this Court boasts of its temporal pretensions and of its conquests of

this kind, instead of keeping them secret. In consequence of the long

and faithful report that Kourakin made to the Czar, that prince heaved a

sigh, saying that he must be master in his own country, and could not

place there anybody greater than himself; and never afterwards did he

think of turning Catholic.

This fact respecting the Czars and Rome, Prince Kourakin did not hide.

Everybody who knew him has heard him relate it. I have eaten with him

and he with me, and I have talked a good deal with him, and heard him

talk, with pleasure, upon many things.

The Regent, informed by him of the forthcoming arrival in France of the

Czar by sea, sent the King's equipages; horses, coaches, vehicles,

waggons, and tables and chambers with Du Libois, one of the King's

gentlemen in ordinary, to go and wait for the Czar at Dunkerque, pay the

expenses incurred by him and his suite on the way to Paris, and

everywhere render him the same honour as to the King. The Czar proposed

to allot a hundred days to his journey. The apartment of the Queen-

mother at the Louvre was furnished for him, the councils usually held

there taking place in the houses of the chiefs of these councils.

M. le Duc d'Orleans discussing with me as to the nobleman best fitted to

be appointed to wait upon the Czar during his stay, I recommended the

Marechal de Tesse, as a man without occupation, who well knew the

language and usages of society, who was accustomed to foreigners by his

journeys and negotiations in Spain, Turin, Rome, and in other courts of

Italy, and who, gentle and polite, was sure to perform his duties well.

M. le Duc d'Orleans agreed with me, and the next day sent for him and

gave him his orders.

When it was known that the Czar was near Dunkerque, the Regent sent the

Marquis de Neelle to receive him at Calais, and accompany him until they

met the Marechal de Tesse, who was not to go beyond Beaumont to wait for

him. At the same time the Hotel de Lesdiguieres was prepared for the

Czar and his suite, under the idea that he might prefer a private house,

with all his people around him, to the Louvre. The Hotel de Lesdiguieres

was large and handsome, as I have said at the commencement of this

chapter, adjoined the arsenal, and belonged by succession to the Marechal

de Villeroy, who lodged at the Tuileries. Thus the house was empty,

because the Duc de Villeroy, who was not a man fond of display, had found

it too distant to live in. It was entirely refurnished, and very

magnificently, with the furniture of the King.

The Czar arrived at Beaumont on Friday, the 7th of May, 1717, about mid-

day. Tesse made his reverences to him as he descended from his coach,

had the honour of dining with him, and of escorting him that very day to

Paris.

The Czar entered the city in one of Tesse's coaches, with three of his

suite with him, but not Tesse himself. The Marechal followed in another

coach. The Czar alighted at nine o'clock in the evening at the Louvre,

and walked all through the apartments of the Queen-mother. He considered

them to be too magnificently hung and lighted, jumped into his coach

again, and went to the Hotel de Lesdiguieres, where he wished to lodge.

He thought the apartment destined for him too fine also, and had his

camp-bed immediately spread out in a wardrobe. The Marechal de Tesse,

who was to do the honours of his house and of his table, to accompany him

everywhere, and not quit the place where he might be, lodged in an

apartment of the Hotel de Lesdiguieres, and had enough to do in following

and sometimes running after him. Verton, one of the King's maitres

d'hotel, was charged with serving him and all the tables of the Czar and

his suite. The suite consisted of forty persons of all sorts, twelve or

fifteen of whom were considerable people in themselves, or by their

appointments; they all ate with the Czar.

Verton was a clever lad, strong in certain company, fond of good cheer

and of gaming, and served the Czar with so much order, and conducted

himself so well, that this monarch and all the suite conceived a singular

friendship for him.

The Czar excited admiration by his extreme curiosity, always bearing upon

his views of government, trade, instruction, police, and this curiosity

embraced everything, disdained nothing in the smallest degree useful;

it was marked and enlightened, esteeming only what merited to be

esteemed, and exhibited in a clear light the intelligence, justness,

ready appreciation of his mind. Everything showed in the Czar the vast

extent of his knowledge, and a sort of logical harmony of ideas. He

allied in the most surprising manner the highest, the proudest, the most

delicate, the most sustained, and at the same time the least embarrassing

majesty, when he had established it in all its safety with a marked

politeness. Yet he was always and with everybody the master everywhere,

but with gradations, according to the persons he was with. He had a kind

of familiarity which sprang from liberty, but he was not without a strong

dash of that ancient barbarism of his country, which rendered all his

actions rapid; nay, precipitous, his will uncertain, and not to be

constrained or contradicted in anything. Often his table was but little

decent, much less so were the attendants who served, often too with an

openness of kingly audacity everywhere. What he proposed to see or do

was entirely independent of means; they were to be bent to his pleasure

and command. His desire for liberty, his dislike to be made a show of,

his free and easy habits, often made him prefer hired coaches, common

cabs even; nay, the first which he could lay his hands on, though

belonging to people below him of whom he knew nothing. He jumped in, and

had himself driven all over the city, and outside it. On one occasion he

seized hold of the coach of Madame de Mattignon, who had come to gape at

him, drove off with it to Boulogne and other country places near Paris.

The owner was much astonished to find she must journey back on foot. On

such occasions the Marechal de Tesse and his suite had often hard work to

find the Czar, who had thus escaped them.

CHAPTER LXXXVI

The Czar was a very tall man, exceedingly well made; rather thin, his

face somewhat round, a high forehead, good eyebrows, a rather short nose,

but not too short, and large at the end, rather thick lips, complexion

reddish brown, good black eyes, large, bright, piercing, and well open;

his look majestic and gracious when he liked, but when otherwise, severe

and stern, with a twitching of the face, not often occurring, but which

appeared to contort his eyes and all his physiognomy, and was frightful

to see; it lasted a moment, gave him a wild and terrible air, and passed

away. All his bearing showed his intellect, his reflectiveness, and his

greatness, and was not devoid of a certain grace. He wore a linen

collar, a round-brown wig, as though without powder, and which did not

reach to his shoulders; a brown coat tight to the body, even, and with

gold buttons; vest, breeches, stockings, no gloves or ruffles, the star

of his order over his coat, and the cordon under it, the coat itself

being frequently quite unbuttoned, his hat upon the table, but never upon

his head, even out of doors. With this simplicity ill-accompanied or ill

mounted as he might be, the air of greatness natural to him could not be

mistaken.

What he ate and drank at his two regular meals is inconceivable, without

reckoning the beer, lemonade, and other drinks he swallowed between these

repasts, his suite following his example; a bottle or two of beer, as

many more of wine, and occasionally, liqueurs afterwards; at the end of

the meal strong drinks, such as brandy, as much sometimes as a quart.

This was about the usual quantity at each meal. His suite at his table

drank more and ate in proportion, at eleven o'clock in the morning and at

eight at night. There was a chaplain who ate at the table of the Czar,

who consumed half as much again as the rest, and with whom the monarch,

who was fond of him, much amused himself. Prince Kourakin went every day

to the Hotel de Lesdiguieres, but lodged elsewhere.

The Czar well understood French, and I think could have spoken it, if he

had wished, but for greatness' sake he always had an interpreter. Latin

and many other languages he spoke very well. There was a detachment of

guards in his house, but he would scarcely ever allow himself to be

followed by them. He would not set foot outside the Hotel de

Lesdiguieres, whatever curiosity he might feel, or give any signs of

life, until he had received a visit from the King.

On Saturday, the day after his arrival, the Regent went in the morning to

see the Czar. This monarch left his cabinet, advanced a few paces,

embraced Monsieur d'Orleans with an air of great superiority, pointed to

the door of the cabinet, and instantly turning on his heel, without the

slightest compliment, entered there. The Regent followed, and Prince

Kourakin after him to serve as interpreter. They found two armchairs

facing each other, the Czar seated himself in the upper, the Regent in

the other. The conversation lasted nearly an hour without public affairs

being mentioned, after which the Czar left his cabinet; the Regent

followed him, made him a profound reverence, but slightly returned, and

left him in the same place as he had found him on entering.

On Monday, the 10th of May, the King went to see the Czar, who received

him at the door, saw him alight from his coach, walked with him at his

left into his chamber, where they found two armchairs equally placed.

The King sat down in the right-hand one, the Czar in the other, Prince

Kourakin served as interpreter. It was astonishing to see the Czar take

the King under both arms, hoist him up to his level, embrace him thus in

the air; and the King, young as he was, show no fear, although he could

not possibly have been prepared for such a reception. It was striking,

too, to see the grace which the Czar displayed before the King, the air

of tenderness he assumed towards him, the politeness which flowed as it

were naturally, and which nevertheless was mixed with greatness, with

equality of rank, and slightly with superiority of age: for all these

things made themselves felt. He praised the King, appeared charmed with

him, and persuaded everybody he was. He embraced him again and again.

The King paid his brief compliment very prettily; and M. du Maine, the

Marechal de Villeroy, and the distinguished people present, filled up the

conversation. The meeting lasted a short quarter of an hour. The Czar

accompanied the King as he had received him, and saw him to his coach.

On Tuesday, the 11th of May, between four and five o'clock, the Czar went

to see the King. He was received by the King at his carriage door, took

up a position on his right, and was conducted within. All these

ceremonies had been agreed on before the King went to see him. The Czar

showed the same affection and the same attentions to the King as before;

and his visit was not longer than the one he had received, but the crowd

much surprised him.

He had been at eight o'clock in the morning to see the Place Royal, the

Place des Victoires, and the Place de Vendome, and the next day he went

to the Observatoire, the Gobelins, and the King's Garden of Simples.

Everywhere he amused himself in examining everything, and in asking many

questions.

On Thursday, the 13th of May, he took medicine, but did not refrain after

dinner from calling upon several celebrated artificers. On Friday, the

14th, he went at six o'clock in the morning into the grand gallery of the

Louvre, to see the plans in relief of all the King's fortified places,

Hasfield, with his engineers, doing the honours. The Czar examined all

these plans for a long time; visited many other parts of the Louvre, and

descended afterwards into the Tuileries garden, from which everybody had

been excluded. They were working then upon the Pont Tournant. The Czar

industriously examined this work, and remained there a long time. In the

afternoon he went to see, at the Palais Royal, Madame, who had sent her

compliments to him by her officer. The armchair excepted, she received

him as she would have received the King. M. le Duc d'Orleans came

afterwards and took him to the Opera, into his grand box, where they sat

upon the front seat upon a splendid carpet. Sometime after, the Czar

asked if there was no beer to be had. Immediately a large goblet of it

was brought to him, on a salver. The Regent rose, took it, and presented

it to the Czar, who with a smile and an inclination of politeness,

received the goblet without any ceremony, drank, and put it back on the

salver which the Regent still held. In handing it back, the Regent took

a plate, in which was a napkin, presented it to the Czar, who without

rising made use of it, at which the house appeared rather astonished.

At the fourth act the Czar went away to supper, but did not wish the

Regent to leave the box. The next morning he jumped into a hired coach,

and went to see a number of curiosities among the workmen.

On the 16th of May, Whit Sunday, he went to the Invalides, where he

wished to see and examine everything. At the refectory he tasted the

soldiers' soup and their wine, drank to their healths, struck them on the

shoulders, and called them comrades. He much admired the church, the

dispensary, and the infirmary, and appeared much pleased with the order

of the establishment. The Marechal de Villars did the honours; the

Marechale went there to look on. The Czar was very civil to her.

On Monday, the 17th, he dined early with Prince Ragotzi, who had invited

him, and afterwards went to Meudon, where he found some of the King's

horses to enable him to see the gardens and the park at his ease. Prince

Ragotzi accompanied him.

On Tuesday, the 18th, the Marechal d'Estrees took him, at eight o'clock

in the morning, to his house at Issy, gave him a dinner, and much amused

him during the day with many things shown to him relating to the navy.

On Monday, the 24th, he went out early to the Tuileries, before the King

was up. He entered the rooms of the Marechal de Villeroy, who showed him

the crown jewels. They were more beautiful and more numerous than he

suspected, but he said he was not much of a judge of such things. He

stated that he cared but little for the beauties purely of wealth and

imagination, above all for those he could not attain. Thence he wished

to go and see the King, who spared him the trouble by coming. It had

been expressly arranged thus, so that his visit should appear one of

chance. They met each other in a cabinet, and remained there. The King,

who held a roll of paper in his hand, gave it to him, and said it was the

map of his territories. This compliment much pleased the Czar, whose

politeness and friendly affectionate bearing were the same as before,

with much grace and majesty.

In the afternoon he went to Versailles, where the Marechal de Tesse left

him to the Duc d'Antin. The apartment of Madame la Dauphine was prepared

for him, and he slept in the room of Monseigneur le Dauphin (the King's

father), now made into a cabinet for the Queen.

On Tuesday, the 25th, he had traversed the gardens, and had been upon the

canal early in the morning, before the hour of his appointment with

D'Antin. He saw all Versailles, Trianon, and the menagerie. His

principal suite was lodged at the chateau. They took ladies with them,

and slept in the apartments Madame de Maintenon had occupied, quite close

to that in which the Czar slept. Bloin, governor of Versailles, was

extremely scandalised to see this temple of prudery thus profaned. Its

goddess and he formerly would have been less shocked. The Czar and his

people were not accustomed to restraint.

The expenses of this Prince amounted to six hundred crowns a day, though

he had much diminished his table since the commencement.

On Sunday, the 30th of May, he set out with Bellegarde, and many relays,

to dine at Petit Bourg, with D'Antin, who received him there, and took

him in the afternoon to see Fontainebleau, where he slept, and the morrow

there was a stag-hunt, at which the Comte de Toulouse did the honours.

Fontainebleau did not much please the Czar, and the hunt did not please

him at all; for he nearly fell off his horse, not being accustomed to

this exercise, and finding it too violent. When he returned to Petit

Bourg, the appearance of his carriage showed that he had eaten and drunk

a good deal in it.

On Friday, the 11th of June, he went from Versailles to Saint-Cyr, where

he saw all the household, and the girls in their classes. He was

received there like the King. He wished to see Madame de Maintenon, who,

expecting his curiosity, had buried herself in her bed, all the curtains

closed, except one, which was half-open. The Czar entered her chamber,

pulled back the window-curtains upon arriving, then the bed-curtains,

took a good long stare at her, said not a word to her,--nor did she open

her lips,--and, without making her any kind of reverence, went his way.

I knew afterwards that she was much astonished, and still more mortified

at this; but the King was no more. The Czar returned on Saturday, the

12th of June, to Paris.

On Tuesday, the 15th of June, he went early to D'Antin's Paris house.

Working this day with M. le Duc d'Orleans, I finished in half an hour; he

was surprised, and wished to detain me. I said, I could always have the

honour of finding him, but not the Czar, who was going away; that I had

not yet seen him, and was going to D'Antin's to stare at my ease. Nobody

entered except those invited, and some ladies with Madame la Duchesse and

the Princesses, her daughters, who wished to stare also. I entered the

garden, where the Czar was walking. The Marechal de Tesse, seeing me at

a distance, came up, wishing to present me to the Czar. I begged him to

do nothing of the kind, not even to perceive me, but to let me gape at my

ease, which I could not do if made known. I begged him also to tell this

to D'Antin, and with these precautions I was enabled to satisfy my

curiosity without interruption. I found that the Czar conversed

tolerably freely, but always as the master everywhere. He retired into a

cabinet, where D'Antin showed him various plans and several curiosities,

upon which he asked several questions. It was there I saw the convulsion

which I have noticed. I asked Tesse if it often happened; he replied,

"several times a day, especially when he is not on his guard to prevent

it." Returning afterwards into the garden, D'Antin made the Czar pass

through the lower apartments, and informed him that Madame la Duchesse

was there with some ladies, who had a great desire to see him. He made

no reply, but allowed himself to be conducted. He walked more gently,

turned his head towards the apartment where all the ladies were under

arms to receive him; looked well at them all, made a slight inclination

of the head to the whole company at once, and passed on haughtily. I

think, by the manner in which he received other ladies, that he would

have shown more politeness to these if Madame la Duchesse had not been

there, making her visit too pretentious. He affected even not to inquire

which she was, or to ask the name of any of the others. I was nearly an

hour without quitting him, and unceasingly regarding him. At last I saw

he remarked it. This rendered me more discreet, lest he should ask who I

was. As he was returning, I walked away to the room where the table was

laid. D'Antin, always the same, had found means to have a very good

portrait of the Czarina placed upon the chimney-piece of this room, with

verses in her praise, which much pleased and surprised the Czar. He and

his suite thought the portrait very like.

The King gave the Czar two magnificent pieces of Gobelins tapestry. He

wished to give him also a beautiful sword, ornamented with diamonds, but

he excused himself from accepting it. The Czar, on his side, distributed

60,000 livres to the King's domestics, who had waited upon him; gave to

D'Antin, Marechal d'Estrees, and Marechal Tesse, his portrait, adorned

with diamonds, and five gold and eleven silver medals, representing the

principal actions of his life. He made a friendly present to Verton,

whom he begged the Regent to send to him as charge d'affaires of the

King, which the Regent promised.

On Wednesday, the 16th of June, he attended on horseback a review of the

two regiments of the guards; gendarmes, light horse, and mousquetaires.

There was only M. le Duc d'Orleans with him; the Czar scarcely looked at

these troops, and they perceived it. He partook of a dinner-supper at

Saint Ouen, at the Duc de Tresmes, where he said that the excessive heat

and dust, together with the crowd on horseback and on foot, had made him

quit the review sooner than he wished. The meal was magnificent; the

Czar learnt that the Marquise de Bethune, who was looking on, was the

daughter of the Duc de Tresriles; he begged her to sit at table; she was

the only lady who did so, among a crowd of noblemen. Several other

ladies came to look on, and to these he was very civil when he knew who

they were.

On Thursday, the 17th, he went for the second time to the Observatoire,

and there supped with the Marechal de Villars.

On Friday, the 18th of June, the Regent went early to the Hotel de

Lesdiguieres, to say adieu to the Czar, remaining some time with him,

with Prince Kourakin present. After this visit the Czar went to say

goodbye to the King at the Tuileries. It had been agreed that there

should be no more ceremonies between them. It was impossible to display

more intelligence, grace, and tenderness towards the King than the Czar

displayed on all these occasions; and again on the morrow, when the King

came to the Hotel de Lesdiguieres to wish him a pleasant journey, no

ceremony being observed.

On Sunday, the 20th of June, the Czar departed, and slept at Ivry, bound

straight for Spa, where he was expected by the Czarina. He would be

accompanied by nobody, not even on leaving Paris. The luxury he remarked

much surprised him; he was moved in speaking upon the King and upon

France, saying, he saw with sorrow that this luxury would soon ruin the

country. He departed, charmed by the manner in which he had been

received, by all he had seen, by the liberty that had been left to him,

and extremely desirous to closely unite himself with the King; but the

interests of the Abbe Dubois, and of England, were obstacles which have

been much deplored since.

The Czar had an extreme desire to unite himself to France. Nothing would

have been more advantageous to our commerce, to our importance in the

north, in Germany, in all Europe. The Czar kept England in restraint as

to her commerce, and King George in fear for his German states. He kept

Holland respectful, and the Emperor measured. It cannot be denied that

he made a grand figure in Europe and in Asia, or that France would have

infinitely profited by close union with him. He did not like the

Emperor; he wished to sever us from England, and it was England which

rendered us deaf to his invitations, unbecomingly so, though they lasted

after his departure. Often I vainly pressed the Regent upon this

subject, and gave him reasons of which he felt all the force, and to

which he could not reply. He was bewitched by Dubois, who panted to

become Cardinal, and who built all his hopes of success upon England.

The English saw his ambition, and took advantage of it for their own

interests. Dubois' aim was to make use of the intimacy between the King

of England and the Emperor, in order that the latter might be induced by

the former to obtain a Cardinalship from the Pope, over whom he had great

power. It will be seen, in due time, what success has attended the

intrigues of the scheming and unscrupulous Abbe.

CHAPTER LXXXVII

Courson, Intendant, or rather King of Languedoc, exercised his authority

there so tyrannically that the people suffered the most cruel oppressions

at his hands. He had been Intendant of Rouen, and was so hated that more

than once he thought himself in danger of having his brains beaten out

with stones. He became at last so odious that he was removed; but the

credit of his father saved him, and he was sent as Intendant to Bordeaux.

He was internally and externally a very animal, extremely brutal,

extremely insolent, his hands by no means clean, as was also the case

with those of his secretaries, who did all his work for him, he being

very idle and quite unfit for his post.

Amongst other tyrannic acts he levied very violent and heavy taxes in

Perigueux, of his own good will and pleasure, without any edict or decree

of the Council; and seeing that people were not eager to satisfy his

demands, augmented them, multiplied the expenses, and at last threw into

dungeons some sheriffs and other rich citizens. He became so tyrannical

that they sent a deputation to Paris to complain of him. But the

deputies went in vain the round of all the members of the council of the

regency, after having for two months kicked their heels in the ante-

chamber of the Duc de Noailles, the minister who ought to have attended

to their representations.

The Comte de Toulouse, who was a very just man, and who had listened to

them, was annoyed that they could obtain no hearing of the Duc de,

Noailles, and spoke to me on the subject. I was as indignant as he.

I spoke to M. le Duc d'Orleans, who only knew the matter superficially.

I showed him the necessity of thoroughly examining into complaints of

this nature; the injustice of allowing these deputies to wear out hope,

patience, and life, in the streets of Paris, without giving some

audience; the cruelty of suffering honest citizens to languish in

dungeons, without knowing why or by what authority they were there. He

agreed with me, and promised to speak to the Duc de Noailles. At the

first finance council after this, I apprised the Comte de Toulouse, and

we both asked the Duc de Noailles when he meant to bring forward the

affair of these Perigueux people.

He was utterly unprepared for this question, and wished to put us off. I

said to him that for a long time some of these people had been in prison,

and others had wandered the streets of Paris; that this was shameful, and

could not be longer endured. The Comte de Toulouse spoke very firmly, in

the same sense. M. le Duc d'Orleans arrived and took his place.

As the Duc de Noailles opened his bag, I said very loudly to M. le Duc

d'Orleans that M. le Comte de Toulouse and I had just asked M. de

Noailles when he would bring forward the Perigueux affair; that these

people, innocent or guilty, begged only to be heard and tried; and that

it appeared to me the council was in honour bound to keep them in misery

no longer. On finishing, I looked at the Comte de Toulouse, who also

said something short but rather strong. M. le Duc d'Orleans replied that

we could not have done better. The Duc de Noailles began muttering

something about the press of business; that he had not time, and so

forth. I interrupted him by saying that he must find time, and that he

ought to have found it long before; that nothing was so important as to

keep people from ruin, or to extricate others from dungeons they were

remaining in without knowing why. M. le Duc d'Orleans said a word to the

same effect, and ordered the Duc de Noailles to get himself ready to

bring forward the case in a week.

From excuse to excuse, three weeks passed over. At last I said openly to

M. le Duc d'Orleans that he was being laughed at, and that justice was

being trodden under foot. At the next council it appeared that M. le Duc

d'Orleans had already told the Duc de Noailles he would wait no longer.

M. le Comte de Toulouse and I continued to ask him if at last he would

bring forward the Perigueux affair. We doubted not that it would in the

end be brought forward, but artifice was not yet at an end.

It was on a Tuesday afternoon, when M. le Duc d'Orleans often abridged

the council to go to the opera. Knowing this, the Duc de Noailles kept

all the council occupied with different matters. I was between him and

the Comte de Toulouse. At the end of each matter I said to him, "And the

Perigueux affair?"--"Directly," he replied, and at once commenced

something else. At last I perceived his project, and whispered so to the

Comte de Toulouse, who had already suspected it, and resolved not to be

its dupe. When the Duc de Noailles had exhausted his bag, it was five

o'clock. After putting back his papers he closed his bag, and said to M.

le Duc d'Orleans that there was still the Perigueux affair which he had

ordered him to bring forward, but that it would be long and detailed;

that he doubtless wished to go to the opera; that it could be attended to

next week; and at once, without waiting for a reply, he rises, pushes

back his stool, and turns to go away. I took him by the arm.

"Gently," said I. "You must learn his highness's pleasure. Monsieur,"

said I to M. le Duc d'Orleans, still firmly holding the sleeve of the Duc

de Noailles, "do you care much to-day for the opera?"

"No, no," replied he; "let us turn to the Perigueux affair."

"But without strangling it," replied I.

"Yes," said M. le Duc d'Orleans: then looking at M. le Duc, who smiled;

"you don't care to go there?"

"No, Monsieur, let us see this business," replied M. le Duc.

"Oh, sit down again then, Monsieur," said I to the Duc de Noailles in a

very firm tone, pulling him sharply; "take your rest, and re-open your

bag."

Without saying a word he drew forward his stool with a great noise, and

threw himself upon it as though he would smash it. Rage beamed from his

eyes. The Comte de Toulouse smiled; he had said his word, too, upon the

opera, and all the company looked at us; nearly every one smiling, but

astounded also.

The Duc de Noailles displayed his papers, and began reading them. As

various documents were referred to, I turned them over, and now and then

took him up and corrected him. He did not dare to show anger in his

replies, yet he was foaming. He passed an eulogy upon Basville (father

of the Intendant), talked of the consideration he merited; excused

Courson, and babbled thereupon as much as he could to extenuate

everything, and lose sight of the principal points at issue. Seeing that

he did not finish, and that he wished to tire us, and to manage the

affair in his own way, I interrupted him, saying that the father and the

son were two people; that the case in point respected the son alone, and

that he had to determine whether an Intendant was authorised or not, by

his office, to tax people at will; to raise imposts in the towns and

country places of his department, without edicts ordering them, without

even a decree of council, solely by his own particular ordonnances, and

to keep people in prison four or five months, without form or shadow of

trial, because they refused to pay these heavy taxes, rendered still more

heavy by expenses. Then, turning round so as to look hard at him, "It is

upon that, Monsieur," added I, "that we must decide, since your report is

over, and not amuse ourselves with a panegyric upon M. de Basville, who

is not mixed up in the case."

The Duc de Noailles, all the more beside himself because he saw the

Regent smile, and M. le Duc, who looked at me do the same, but more

openly, began to speak, or rather to stammer. He did not dare, however,

to decide against the release of the prisoners.

"And the expenses, and the ordonnance respecting these taxes, what do you

do with them?"

"By setting the prisoners at liberty," he said, "the ordonnance falls to

the ground."

I did not wish to push things further just then. The liberation of the

prisoners, and the quashing of the ordonnance, were determined on: some

voices were for the reimbursement of the charges at the expense of the

Intendant, and for preventing him to do the like again.

When it was my turn to speak, I expressed the same opinions, but I added

that it was not enough to recompense people so unjustly ill-treated; that

I thought a sum of money, such as it should please the council to

name, ought to be adjudged to them; and that as to an Intendant who

abused the authority of his office so much as to usurp that of the King

and impose taxes, such as pleased him by his own ordinances, and who

threw people into dungeons as he thought fit by his private authority,

pillaging thus a province, I was of opinion that his Royal Highness

should be asked to make such an example of him that all the other

Intendants might profit by it.

The majority of those who had spoken before me made signs that I was

right, but did not speak again. Others were against me. M. le Duc

d'Orleans promised the liberation of the prisoners, broke Courson's!,

ordonnance, and all which had followed it; said that as for the rest, he

would take care these people should be well recompensed, and Courson well

blamed; that he merited worse, and, but for his father, would have

received it. As we were about to rise, I said it would be as well to

draw up the decree at once, and M. le Duc d'Orleans approved. Noailles

pounced, like a bird of prey, upon paper and ink, and commenced writing.

I bent down and read as he wrote. He stopped and boggled at the

annulling of the ordonnance, and the prohibition against issuing one

again without authorisation by edict or decree of council. I dictated

the clause to him; he looked at the company as though questioning all

eyes.

"Yes," said I, "it was passed like that--you have only to ask again."

M. le Duc d Orleans said, "Yes." Noailles wrote. I took the paper, and

read what he had written. He received it back in fury, cast it among the

papers pell-mell into his bag, then shoved his stool almost to the other

end of the room, and went out, bristling like a wild boar, without

looking at or saluting anybody--we all laughing. M. le Duc and several

others came to me, and with M. le Comte de Toulouse, were much diverted.

M. de Noailles had, in fact, so little command over himself, that, in

turning to go out, he struck the table, swearing, and saying he could

endure it no longer.

I learnt afterwards, by frequenters of the Hotel de Noailles, who told it

to my friends, that when he reached home he went to bed: and would not

see a soul; that fever seized him, that the next day he was of a

frightful temper, and, that he had been heard to say he could no longer

endure the annoyances I caused him. It may be imagined whether or not

this softened me. The Duc de Noailles had, in fact, behaved towards me

with such infamous treachery, and such unmasked impudence, that I took

pleasure at all times and at all places in making him feel, and others

see, the sovereign disdain I entertained for him. I did not allow my

private feelings to sway my judgment when public interests were at stake,

for when I thought the Duc de Noailles right, and this often occurred,

I supported him; but when I knew him to be wrong, or when I caught him

neglecting his duties, conniving at injustice, shirking inquiry, or

evading the truth, I in no way spared him. The incident just related is

an illustration of the treatment he often received at my hands. Fret,

fume, stamp, storm, as he might, I cared nothing for him. His anger to

me was as indifferent as his friendship. I despised both equally.

Occasionally he would imagine, after there had been no storm between us

for some time, that I had become reconciled to him, and would make

advances to me. But the stern and terrible manner in which I met them,

--or rather refused to meet them, taking no more notice of his politeness

and his compliments, than as if they made no appeal whatever to my eyes

or ears,--soon convinced him of the permanent nature of our quarrel, and

drove him to the most violent rage and despair.

The history of the affair was, apparently, revealed by somebody to the

deputies of Perigueux (for this very evening it was talked of in Paris),

who came and offered me many thanks. Noailles was so afraid of me, that

he did not keep their business unsettled more than two days.

A few months afterwards Courson was recalled, amid the bonfires of his

province. This did not improve him, or hinder him from obtaining

afterwards one of the two places of councillor at the Royal Council of

Finance, for he was already Councillor of State at the time of this

affair of Perigueux.

An amusement, suited to the King's age, caused a serious quarrel. A sort

of tent had been erected for him on the terrace of the Tuileries, before

his apartments, and on the same level. The diversions of kings always

have to do with distinction. He invented some medals to give to the

courtiers of his own age, whom he wished to distinguish, and those

medals, which were intended to be worn, conferred the right of entering

this tent without being invited; thus was created the Order of the

Pavilion. The Marechal de Villeroy gave orders to Lefevre to have the

medals made. He obeyed, and brought them to the Marechal, who presented

them to the King. Lefevre was silversmith to the King's household, and

as such under the orders of the first gentleman of the chamber. The Duc

de Mortemart, who had previously had some tiff with the Marechal de

Villeroy, declared that it devolved upon him to order these medals and

present them to the King. He flew into a passion because everything had

been done without his knowledge; and complained to the Duc d'Orleans.

It was a trifle not worth discussing, and in which the three other

gentlemen of the chamber took no part. Thus the Duc de Mortemart,

opposed alone to the Marechal de Villeroy, stood no chance. M. le Duc

d'Orleans, with his usual love for mezzo termine, said that Lefevre had

not made these medals, or brought them to the Marechal as silversmith,

but as having received through the Marechal the King's order, and that

nothing more must be said. The Duc de Mortemart was indignant, and did

not spare the Marechal.

VOLUME 12.

CHAPTER LXXXVIII

The Abbe Alberoni, having risen by the means I have described, and

acquired power by following in the track of the Princesse des Ursins,

governed Spain like a master. He had the most ambitious projects. One

of his ideas was to drive all strangers, especially the French, out of

the West Indies; and he hoped to make use of the Dutch to attain this

end. But Holland was too much in the dependence of England.

At home Alberoni proposed many useful reforms, and endeavoured to

diminish the expenses of the royal household. He thought, with reason,

that a strong navy was the necessary basis of the power of Spain; and to

create one he endeavoured to economise the public money. He flattered

the King with the idea that next year he would arm forty vessels to

protect the commerce of the Spanish Indies. He had the address to boast

of his disinterestedness, in that whilst working at all manner of

business he had never received any grace from the King, and lived only

on fifty pistoles, which the Duke of Parma, his master, gave him every

month; and therefore he made gently some complaints against the

ingratitude of princes.

Alberoni had persuaded the Queen of Spain to keep her husband shut up,

as had the Princesse des Ursins. This was a certain means of governing a

prince whose temperament and whose conscience equally attached him to his

spouse. He was soon completely governed once more--under lock and key,

as it were, night and day. By this means the Queen was jailoress and

prisoner at the same time. As she was constantly with the King nobody

could come to her. Thus Alberoni kept them both shut up, with the key of

their prison in his pocket.

One of the chief objects of his ambition was the Cardinal's hat. It

would be too long to relate the schemes he set on foot to attain his end.

He was opposed by a violent party at Rome; but at last his inflexible

will and extreme cunning gained the day. The Pope, no longer able to

resist the menaces of the King of Spain, and dreading the vengeance of

the all-powerful minister, consented to grant the favour that minister

had so pertinaciously demanded. Alberoni was made Cardinal on the 12th

of July, 1717. Not a soul approved this promotion when it was announced

at the consistory. Not a single cardinal uttered a word in praise of the

new confrere, but many openly disapproved his nomination. Alberoni's

good fortune did not stop here. At the death, some little time after,

of the Bishop of Malaga, that rich see, worth thirty thousand ecus a

year, was given to him. He received it as the mere introduction to the

grandest and richest sees of Spain, when they should become vacant.

The King of Spain gave him also twenty thousand ducats, to be levied upon

property confiscated for political reasons. Shortly after, Cardinal

Arias, Archbishop of Seville, having died, Alberoni was named to this

rich archbishopric.

In the middle of his grandeur and good luck he met with an adventure that

must have strangely disconcerted him.

I have before explained how Madame des Ursins and the deceased Queen had

kept the King of Spain screened from all eyes, inaccessible to all his

Court, a very palace-hermit. Alberoni, as I have said, followed their

example. He kept the King even more closely imprisoned than before, and

allowed no one, except a few indispensable attendants, to approach him.

These attendants were a small number of valets and doctors, two gentlemen

of the chamber, one or two ladies, and the majordomo-major of the King.

This last post was filled by the Duc d'Escalone, always called Marquis de

Villena, in every way one of the greatest noblemen in Spain, and most

respected and revered of all, and justly so, for his virtue, his

appointment, and his services.

Now the King's doctors are entirely under the authority of the majordomo-

major. He ought to be present at all their consultations; the King

should take no remedy that he is not told of, or that he does not

approve, or that he does not see taken; an account of all the medicines

should be rendered to him. Just at this time the King was ill. Villena

wished to discharge the duties attached to his post of majordomo-major.

Alberoni caused it to be insinuated to him, that the King wished to be at

liberty, and that he would be better liked if he kept at home; or had the

discretion and civility not to enter the royal chamber, but to ask at the

door for news. This was language the Marquis would not understand.

At the end of the grand cabinet of the mirrors was placed a bed, in which

the King was laid, in front of the door; and as the room is vast and

long, it is a good distance from the door (which leads to the interior)

to the place where the bed was. Alberoni again caused the Marquis to be

informed that his attentions were troublesome, but the Marquis did not

fail to enter as before. At last, in concert with the Queen, the

Cardinal resolved to refuse him admission. The Marquis, presenting

himself one afternoon, a valet partly opened the door and said, with much

confusion, that he was forbidden to let him enter.

"Insolent fellow," replied the Marquis, "stand aside," and he pushed the

door against the valet and entered. In front of him was the Queen,

seated at the King's pillow; the Cardinal standing by her side, and the

privileged few, and not all of them, far away from the bed. The Marquis,

who, though full of pride, was but weak upon his legs, leisurely

advanced, supported upon his little stick. The Queen and the Cardinal

saw him and looked at each other. The King was too ill to notice

anything, and his curtains were closed except at the side where the Queen

was. Seeing the Marquis approach, the Cardinal made signs, with

impatience, to one of the valets to tell him to go away, and immediately

after, observing that the Marquis, without replying, still advanced, he

went to him, explained to him that the King wished to be alone, and

begged him to leave.

"That is not true," said the Marquis; "I have watched you; you have not

approached the bed, and the King has said nothing to you."

The Cardinal insisting, and without success, took him by the arm to make

him go. The Marquis said he was very insolent to wish to hinder him from

seeing the King, and perform his duties. The Cardinal, stronger than his

adversary, turned the Marquis round, hurried him towards the door, both

talking the while, the Cardinal with measure, the Marquis in no way

mincing his words. Tired of being hauled out in this manner, the Marquis

struggled, called Alberoni a "little scoundrel," to whom he would teach

manners; and in this heat and dust the Marquis, who was weak, fortunately

fell into an armchair hard by. Angry at his fall, he raised his little

stick and let it fall with all his force upon the ears and the shoulders

of the Cardinal, calling him a little scoundrel--a little rascal--

a little blackguard, deserving a horsewhipping.

The Cardinal, whom he held with one hand, escaped as well as he could,

the Marquis continuing to abuse him, and shaking the stick at him. One

of the valets came and assisted him to rise from his armchair, and gain

the door; for after this accident his only thought was to leave the room.

The Queen looked on from her chair during all this scene, without

stirring or saying a word; and the privileged few in the chamber did not

dare to move. I learned all this from every one in Spain; and moreover I

asked the Marquis de Villena himself to give me the full details; and he,

who was all uprightness and truth, and who had conceived some little

friendship for me, related with pleasure all I have written. The two

gentlemen of the chamber present also did the same, laughing in their

sleeves. One had refused to tell the Marquis to leave the room, and the

other had accompanied him to the door. The most singular thing is, that

the Cardinal, furious, but surprised beyond measure at the blows he had

received, thought only of getting out of reach. The Marquis cried to him

from a distance, that but for the respect he owed to the King, and to the

state in which he was, he would give him a hundred kicks in the stomach,

and haul him out by the ears. I was going to forget this. The King was

so ill that he saw nothing.

A quarter of an hour after the Marquis had returned home, he received an

order to retire to one of his estates at thirty leagues from Madrid. The

rest of the day his house was filled with the most considerable people of

Madrid, arriving as they learned the news, which made a furious sensation

through the city. He departed the next day with his children. The

Cardinal, nevertheless, remained so terrified, that, content with the

exile of the Marquis, and with having got rid of him, he did not dare to

pass any censure upon him for the blows he had received. Five or six

months afterwards he sent him an order of recall, though the Marquis had

not taken the slightest steps to obtain it. What is incredible is, that

the adventure, the exile, the return, remained unknown to the King until

the fall of the Cardinal! The Marquis would never consent to see him, or

to hear him talked of, on any account, after returning, though the

Cardinal was the absolute master. His pride was much humiliated by this

worthy and just haughtiness; and he was all the more piqued because he

left nothing undone in order to bring about a reconciliation, without any

other success than that of obtaining fresh disdain, which much increased

the public estimation in which this wise and virtuous nobleman was held.

CHAPTER LXXXIX

I must not omit to mention an incident which occurred during the early

part of the year 1718, and which will give some idea of the character of

M. le Duc d'Orleans, already pretty amply described by me.

One day (when Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans had gone to Montmartre, which

she quitted soon after) I was walking alone with M. le Duc d'Orleans in

the little garden of the Palais Royal, chatting upon various affairs,

when he suddenly interrupted me, and turning towards me; said, "I am

going to tell you something that will please you."

Thereupon he related to me that he was tired of the life he led, which

was no longer in harmony with his age or his desires, and many similar

things; that he was resolved to give up his gay parties, pass his

evenings more soberly and decently, sometimes at home, often with Madame

la Duchesse d'Orleans; that his health would gain thereby, and he should

have more time for business; that in a little while I might rely upon it

--there would be no more suppers of "roues and harlots" (these were his

own terms), and that he was going to lead a prudent and reasonable life

adapted to his age and state.

I admit that in my extreme surprise I was ravished, so great was the

interest I took in him. I testified this to him with overflowing heart,

thanking him for his confidence. I said to him that he knew I for a long

time had not spoken to him of the indecency of his life, or of the time

he lost, because I saw that in so doing I lost my own; that I had long

since despaired of his conduct changing; that this had much grieved me;

that he could not be ignorant from all that had passed between us at

various times, how much I desired a change, and that he might judge of

the surprise and joy his announcement gave me. He assured me more and

more that his resolution was fixed, and thereupon I took leave of him,

the hour for his soiree having arrived.

The next day I learned from people to whom the roues had just related it,

that M. le Duc d'Orleans was no sooner at table than he burst out

laughing, and applauded his cleverness, saying that he had just laid a

trap for me into which I had fallen full length. He recited to them our

conversation, at which the joy and applause were marvellous. It is the

only time he ever diverted himself at my expense (not to say at his own)

in a matter in which the fib he told me, and which I was foolish enough

to swallow, surprised by a sudden joy that took from me reflection, did

honour to me, though but little to him. I would not gratify him by

telling him I knew of his joke, or call to his mind what he had said to

me; accordingly he never dared to speak of it.

I never could unravel what fantasy had seized him to lead him to hoax me

in this manner, since for many years I had never opened my mouth

concerning the life he led, whilst he, on his side, had said not a word

to me relating to it. Yet it is true that sometimes being alone with

confidential valets, some complaints have escaped him (but never before

others) that I ill-treated him, and spoke hastily to him, but all was

said in two words, without bitterness, and without accusing me of

treating him wrongfully. He spoke truly also; sometimes, when I was

exasperated with stupidity or error in important matters which affected

him or the State, or when he had agreed (having been persuaded and

convinced by good reasons) to do or not to do some essential thing, and

was completely turned from it by his feebleness, his easy-going nature

(which he appreciated as well as I)--cruelly did I let out against him.

But the trick he most frequently played me before others, one of which my

warmth was always dupe, was suddenly to interrupt an important argument

by a 'sproposito' of buffoonery. I could not stand it; sometimes being

so angry that I wished to leave the room. I used to say to him that if

he wished to joke I would joke as much as he liked, but to mix the most

serious matters with tomfoolery was insupportable. He laughed heartily,

and all the more because, as the thing often happened, I ought to have

been on my guard; but never was, and was vexed both at the joke and at

being surprised; then he returned to business. But princes must

sometimes banter and amuse themselves with those whom they treat as

friends. Nevertheless, in spite of his occasional banter, he entertained

really sincere esteem and friendship for me.

By chance I learnt one day what he really thought of me. I will say it

now, so as to leave at once all these trifles. M. le Duc d'Orleans

returning one afternoon from the Regency Council at the Tuileries to the

Palais Royal with M. le Duc de Chartres (his son) and the Bailli de

Conflans (then first gentleman of his chamber) began to talk of me,

passing an eulogium upon me I hardly dare to repeat. I know not what had

occurred at the Council to occasion it. All that I can say is that he

insisted upon his happiness in having a friend so faithful, so unchanging

at all times, so useful to him as I was, and always had been; so sure, so

true, so disinterested, so firm, such as he could meet with in no one

else, and upon whom he could always count. This eulogy lasted from the

Tuileries to the Palais Royal, the Regent saying to his son that he

wished to teach him how to make my acquaintance, as a support and a

source of happiness (all that I relate here is in his own words); such as

he had always found in my friendship and counsel. The Bailli de

Conflans, astonished at this abundant eloquence, repeated it to me two

days after, and I admit that I never have forgotten it. And here I will

say that whatever others might do, whatever I myself (from disgust and

vexation at what I saw ill done) might do, the Regent always sought

reconciliation with me with shame, confidence, confusion, and he has

never found himself in any perplexity that he has not opened his heart to

me, and consulted me, without however always following my advice, for he

was frequently turned from it by others.

He would never content himself with one mistress. He needed a variety in

order to stimulate his taste. I had no more intercourse with them than

with his roues. He never spoke of them to me, nor I to him. I scarcely

ever knew anything of their adventures. His roues and valets were always

eager to present fresh mistresses to him, from which he generally

selected one. Amongst these was Madame de Sabran, who had married a man

of high rank, but without wealth or merit, in order to be at liberty.

There never was a woman so beautiful as she, or of a beauty more regular,

more agreeable, more touching, or of a grander or nobler bearing, and yet

without affectation. Her air and her manners were simple and natural,

making you think she was ignorant of her beauty and of her figure (this

last the finest in the world), and when it pleased her she was

deceitfully modest. With much intellect she was insinuating, merry,

overflowing, dissipated, not bad-hearted, charming, especially at table.

In a word, she was all M. le Duc d'Orleans wanted, and soon became his

mistress without prejudice to the rest.

As neither she nor her husband had a rap, they were ready for anything,

and yet they did not make a large fortune. One of the chamberlains of

the Regent, with an annual salary of six thousand livres, having received

another appointment, Madame de Sabran thought six thousand livres a year

too good to be lost, and asked for the post for her husband. She cared

so little for him, by the way, that she called him her "mastiff." It was

she, who, supping with M. le Duc d'Orleans and his roues, wittily said,

that princes and lackeys had been made of one material, separated by

Providence at the creation from that out of which all other men had been

made.

All the Regent's mistresses had one by one their turn. Fortunately they

had little power, were not initiated into any state secrets, and received

but little money.

The Regent amused himself with them, and treated them in other respects

exactly as they deserved to be treated.

CHAPTER XC

It is time now that I should speak of matters of very great importance,

which led to changes that filled my heart with excessive joy, such as it

had never known before.

For a long time past the Parliament had made many encroachments upon the

privileges belonging to the Dukes. Even under the late King it had begun

these impudent enterprises, and no word was said against it; for nothing

gave the King greater pleasure than to mix all ranks together in a

caldron of confusion. He hated and feared the nobility, was jealous of

their power, which in former reigns had often so successfully balanced

that of the crown; he was glad therefore of any opportunity which

presented itself that enabled him to see our order weakened and robbed of

its dignity.

The Parliament grew bolder as its encroachments one by one succeeded.

It began to fancy itself armed with powers of the highest kind. It began

to imagine that it possessed all the authority of the English Parliament,

forgetting that that assembly is charged with the legislative

administration of the country, that it has the right to make laws and

repeat laws, and that the monarch can do but little, comparatively

speaking, without the support and sanction of this representative

chamber; whereas, our own Parliament is but a tribunal of justice, with

no control or influence over the royal authority or state affairs.

But, as I have said, success gave it new impudence. Now that the King

was dead, at whose name alone it trembled, this assembly thought that a

fine opportunity had come to give its power the rein. It had to do with

a Regent, notorious for his easy-going disposition, his indifference to

form and rule, his dislike to all vigorous measures. It fancied that

victory over such an opponent would be easy; that it could successfully

overcome all the opposition he could put in action, and in due time make

his authority secondary to its own. The Chief-President of the

Parliament, I should observe, was the principal promoter of these

sentiments. He was the bosom friend of M. and Madame du Maine, and by

them was encouraged in his views. Incited by his encouragement, he

seized an opportunity which presented itself now, to throw down the glove

to M. le Duc d'Orleans, in the name of the Parliament, and to prepare for

something like a struggle. The Parliament of Brittany had recently

manifested a very turbulent spirit, and this was an additional

encouragement to that of Paris.

At first the Parliament men scarcely knew what to lay hold of and bring

forward, as an excuse for the battle. They wished of course to gain the

applause of the people as protectors of their interests--likewise those

who for their private ends try to trouble and embroil the State--but

could not at first see their way clear. They sent for Trudaine, Prevot

des Marchand, Councillor of State, to give an account to them of the

state of the Hotel de Ville funds. He declared that they had never been

so well paid, and that there was no cause of complaint against the

government. Baffled upon this point, they fastened upon a edict,

recently rendered, respecting the money of the realm. They deliberated

thereon, deputed a commission to examine the matter, made a great fuss,

and came to the conclusion that the edict would, if acted upon, be very

prejudicial to the country.

Thus much done, the Parliament assembled anew on Friday morning, the 17th

of June, 1718, and again in the afternoon. At the end they decided upon

sending a deputation to the Regent, asking him to suspend the operation

of the edict, introduce into it the changes suggested by their body, and

then send it to them to be registered. The deputation was sent, and said

all it had to say.

On the morrow the Parliament again assembled, morning and afternoon, and

sent a message to the Regent, saying, it would not separate until it had

received his reply. That reply was very short and simple. The Regent

sent word that he was tired of the meddling interference of the

Parliament (this was not the first time, let me add, that he experienced

it), that he had ordered all the troops in Paris, and round about, to

hold themselves ready to march, and that the King must be obeyed. Such

was in fact true. He had really ordered the soldiers to keep under arms

and to be supplied with powder and shot.

The message did not intimidate the Parliament. The next day, Sunday, the

Chief-President, accompanied by all the other presidents, and by several

councillors, came to the Palais Royal. Although, as I have said, the

leader of his company, and the right-hand man of M. and Madame du Maine,

he wished for his own sake to keep on good terms with the Regent, and at

the same time to preserve all authority over his brethren, so as to have

them under his thumb. His discourse then to the Regent commenced with

many praises and much flattery, in order to smooth the way for the three

fine requests he wound up with. The first of these was that the edict

should be sent to the Parliament to be examined, and to suffer such

changes as the members should think fit to introduce, and then be

registered; the second, that the King should pay attention to their

remonstrances in an affair of this importance, which they believed

prejudicial to the State; the third, that the works recently undertaken

at the mint for recasting the specie should be suspended!

To these modest requests the Regent replied that the edict had been

registered at the Cour des Monnaies, which is a superior court, and

consequently sufficient for such registration; that there was only a

single instance of an edict respecting the money of the realm having been

sent before the Parliament, and then out of pure civility; that the

matter had been well sifted, and all its inconveniences weighed; that it

was to the advantage of the State to put in force this edict; that the

works of the Mint could not be interfered with in any way; finally, that

the King must be obeyed! It was quite true that the edict had been sent

to the Parliament out of courtesy, but at the suggestion of the Regent's

false and treacherous confidants, valets of the Parliament, such as the

Marechals de Villeroy, and Huxelles, and Besons, Canillac, Effiat, and

Noailles.

Notwithstanding the decisive answer they had received, the Parliament met

the very next day, and passed a decree against the edict. The council of

the regency, at its sitting on the afternoon of the same day, abrogated

this decree. Thus, since war was in a measure declared between the

Regent's authority and that of the Parliament, the orders emanating from

the one were disputed by the other, and vice versa. A nice game of

shuttlecock this, which it was scarce likely could last long!

The Regent was determined to be obeyed. He prohibited, therefore, the

printing and posting up of the decree of the Parliament. Soldiers of the

guards, too, were placed in the markets to hinder the refusal of the new

money which had been issued. The fact is, by the edict which had been

passed, the Louis worth thirty livres was taken at thirty-six livres, and

the crown piece, worth a hundred sous, at six livres instead of five. By

this edict also government notes were made legal tender until the new

money should be ready. The finances were thus relieved, and the King

gained largely from the recasting of the coin. But private people lost

by this increase, which much exceeded the intrinsic value of the metal

used, and which caused everything to rise in price. Thus the Parliament

had a fine opportunity for trumpeting forth its solicitude for the public

interest, and did not fail to avail itself of it.

During the night a councillor of the Parliament was surprised on

horseback in the streets tearing down and disfiguring the decree of the

Regency Council, which abrogated that of the Parliament. He was taken to

prison.

On Monday, the 27th of June, the Chief-President, at the head of all the

other presidents, and of forty councillors, went to the Tuileries, and in

the presence of the Regent read the wire-drawn remonstrance of the

Parliament upon this famous edict. The Keeper of the Seals said that in

a few days the King would reply. Accordingly on Saturday, the 2nd of

July, the same deputation came again to the Tuileries to hear the reply.

The Regent and all the Princes of the blood were there, the bastards

also. Argenson, who from lieutenant of police had been made keeper of

the seals, and who in his former capacity had often been ill-used--nay,

even attacked by the Parliament--took good care to show his superiority

over that assembly. He answered that deputation in the name of the King,

and concluded by saying that the edict would in no way be altered, but

would receive complete application. The parliamentary gentlemen did not

expect so firm a reply, and withdrew, much mortified.

They were not, however, vanquished. They reassembled on the 11th and

12th of August, and spat forth all their venom in another decree

specially aimed at the authority of the Regent. By this decree the

administration of the finances was henceforth entirely to be at the mercy

of the Parliament. Law, the Scotchman, who, under the favour of M. le

Duc d'Orleans, had been allowed some influence over the State money

matters, was to possess that influence no longer; in fact, all power on

the part of the Regent over the finances was to be taken from him.

After this the Parliament had to take but one step in order to become the

guardian of the King and the master of the realm (as in fact it madly

claimed to be), the Regent more at its mercy than the King, and perhaps

as exposed as King Charles I. of England. Our parliamentary gentlemen

began as humbly as those of England, and though, as I have said, their

assembly was but a simple court of justice, limited in its jurisdiction

like the other courts of the realm, to judge disputes between private

people, yet by dint of hammering upon the word parliament they believed

themselves not less important than their English brethren, who form the

legislative assembly, and represent all the nation.

M. and Madame du Maine had done not a little to bring about these

fancies, and they continued in secret to do more. Madame du Maine, it

may be recollected, had said that she would throw the whole country into

combustion, in order not to lose her husband's prerogative. She was as

good as her word. Encouraged doubtless by the support they received from

this precious pair, the Parliament continued on its mad career of

impudent presumption, pride, and arrogance. It assembled on the 22nd of

August, and ordered inquiry to be made of the Regent as to what had

become of all the state notes that had been passed at the Chamber of

justice; those which had been given for the lotteries that were held

every month; those which had been given for the Mississippi or Western

Company; finally, those which had been taken to the Mint since the change

in the specie.

These questions were communicated to the Regent by the King's officers.

In reply he turned his back upon them, and went away into his cabinet,

leaving these people slightly bewildered. Immediately after this

occurrence it was rumoured that a Bed of justice would soon be held. The

Regent had not then thought of summoning such an important assembly, and

his weakness and vacillation were such that no one thought he would dare

to do so.

The memoirs of Cardinal de Retz, of Joly, of Madame Motteville, had

turned all heads. These books had become so fashionable, that in no

class was the man or woman who did not have them continually in hand.

Ambition, the desire for novelty, the skill of those who circulated these

books, made the majority of people hope to cut a figure or make a

fortune, and persuaded them there was as little lack of personages as in

the last minority. People looked upon Law as the Mazarin of the day--

(they were both foreign)--upon M. and Madame du Maine, as the chiefs of

the Fronde; the weakness of M. le Duc d'Orleans was compared to that of

the Queen-mother, and so on.

To say the truth, all tended towards whatever was extreme--moderation

seemed forgotten--and it was high time the Regent aroused himself from a

supineness which rendered him contemptible, and which emboldened his

enemies and those of the State to brave all and undertake all. This

lethargy, too, disheartened his servants, and made all healthy activity

on their part impossible. It had at last led him to the very verge of

the precipice, and the realm he governed to within an inch of the

greatest confusion. He had need, indeed, to be up and doing!

The Regent, without having the horrible vice or the favourites of Henry

III., had even more than that monarch become notorious for his daily

debauches, his indecency, and his impiety. Like Henry III., too, he was

betrayed by his most intimate councillors and domestics. This treachery

pleased him (as it had pleased that King) because it induced him to keep

idle, now from fear, now from interest, now from disdain, and now from

policy. This torpor was agreeable to him because it was in conformity

with his humour and his tastes, and because he regarded those who

counselled it as good, wise, and enlightened people, not blinded by their

private interests, but seeing clearly things as they were; while he was

importuned with opinions and explanations which would have disclosed the

true state of affairs and suggested remedies.

He looked upon such people as offered these opinions and explanations as

impetuous counsellors, who hurried everything and suggested everything,

who wished to discount the future in order to satisfy their ambition,

their aversion, their different passions. He kept on his guard against

them; he applauded himself for not being their dupe. Now, he laughed at

them; often he allowed them to believe he appreciated their reasoning,

that he was going to act and rouse from his lethargy. He amused them

thus, gained time, and diverted himself afterwards with the others.

Sometimes he replied coldly to them, and when they pressed him too much

he allowed his suspicions to peep out.

Long since I had perceived M. le Duc d'Orleans' mode of action. At the

first movements of the Parliament, of the bastards, and of those who had

usurped the name of nobility, I had warned him. I had done so again as

soon as I saw the cadence and the harmony of the designs in progress. I

had pointed out to him their inevitable sequel; how easy it was to hinder

them at the commencement; how difficult after, especially for a person of

his character and disposition. But I was not the man for such work as

this. I was the oldest, the most attached, the freest spoken of all his

servitors; I had given him the best proofs of this in the most critical

times of his life, and in the midst of his universal abandonment; the

counsels I had offered him in these sad days he had always found for his

good; he was accustomed to repose in me the most complete confidence;

but, whatever opinion he might have of me, and of my truth and probity,

he was on his guard against what he called my warmth, and against the

love I had for my dignity, so attacked by the usurpations of the

bastards, the designs of the Parliament, and the modern fancies of a sham

nobility. As soon as I perceived his suspicions I told him so, and I

added that, content with having done my duty as citizen and as his

servitor, I would say no more on the subject. I kept my word. For more

than a year I had not of myself opened my mouth thereon. If he was

sometimes spoken to before me, and I could not keep quite silent without

being suspected of sulking or pique, I carelessly said something

indefinite, with as little meaning in it as possible, and calculated to

make us drop the subject.

Judge of my surprise, therefore, when as I was working as usual one

afternoon with the Regent, he interrupted me to speak with bitterness of

the Parliament. I replied with my accustomed coldness and pretended

negligence, and continued my business. He stopped me, and said that he

saw very well that I would not reply to him concerning the Parliament.

I admitted it was true, and added that he must long since have perceived

this. Pressed and pressed beyond measure, I coldly remarked that he

could not but remember what I had said to him of the Parliament both

before and after his accession to the regency, that other counsels had

prevailed over mine, and that finding my opinions were misinterpreted by

him, I had resolved to hold my tongue, and had done so. As the subject

was now reopened I reminded him of a prophecy I had uttered long before,

that he had missed the opportunity of governing the Parliament when he

might have done so with a frown, and that step by step he would allow

himself to be conducted by his easy-going disposition, until he found

himself on the very verge of the abyss; that if he wished to recover his

position he must begin at once to retrace his steps, or lose his footing

for ever!

Such strong words (from my mouth they had been rare of late), pronounced

with a slow, firm coldness, as though I were indifferent to the course he

might adopt, made him feel how little capable I believed him of vigorous

and sustained action, and what trifling trouble I took to make him adopt

my views. Dubois, Argenson, and Law had also spoken to him, urging him

to take strong measures against the Parliament; the effect of my speech

was therefore marvellous.

It was indeed high time to do something, as I have before remarked.

The Parliament, we found, after passing its last decree, had named a

commission to inquire into the financial edict; this commission was

working in the utmost secrecy; a number of witnesses had already been

examined, and preparations were quietly making to arrest Law some fine

morning, and hang him three hours after within the enclosure of the

Palais de justice.

Immediately this fact became known, the Duc de la Force and Fagon

(Councillor of State) went to the Regent--'twas on the 19th of August,

1718--and spoke to him with such effect, that he ordered them to assemble

with Law that very day at my house in order to see what was to be done.

They came, in fact, and this was the first intimation I had that the

Regent had begun to feel the gravity of his position, and that he was

ready to do something. In this conference at my house the firmness of

Law, hitherto so great, was shaken so that tears escaped him. Arguments

did not satisfy us at first, because the question could only be decided

by force, and we could not rely upon that of the Regent. The safe-

conduct with which Law was supplied would not have stopped the Parliament

an instant. On every side we were embarrassed. Law, more dead than

alive, knew not what to say; much less what to do. His safety appeared

to us the most pressing matter to ensure. If he had been taken it would

have been all over with him before the ordinary machinery of negotiation

(delayed as it was likely to be by the weakness of the Regent) could have

been set in motion; certainly, before there would have been leisure to

think of better, or to send a regiment of guards to force open the Palais

de justice; a critical remedy at all times, and grievous to the last

degree, even when it succeeds; frightful, if instead of Law, only his

suspended corpse had been found!

I advised Law, therefore, to retire to the Palais Royal, and occupy the

chamber of Nancre, his friend, then away in Spain. Law breathed again at

this suggestion (approved by de la Force and Fagon), and put it in

execution the moment he left my house. He might have been kept in safety

at the Bank, but I thought the Palais Royal would be better: that his

retirement there would create more effect, and induce the Regent to hold

firm to his purpose, besides allowing his Royal Highness to see the

financier whenever he pleased.

CHAPTER XCI

This done I proposed, and the others approved my proposition, that a Bed

of Justice should be held as the only means left by which the abrogation

of the parliamentary decrees could be registered. But while our

arguments were moving, I stopped them all short by a reflection which

came into my mind. I represented to my guests that the Duc du Maine was

in secret the principal leader of the Parliament, and was closely allied

with Marechal de Villeroy; that both would oppose might and main the

assembling of a Bed of justice, so contrary to their views, to their

schemes, to their projects; that to hinder it they, as guardians of the

young King, would plead on his behalf, the heat, which was in fact

extreme, the fear of the crowd, of the fatigue, of the bad air; that they

would assume a pathetic tone in speaking of the King's health, calculated

to embarrass the Regent; that if he persisted they would protest against

everything which might happen to His Majesty; declare, perhaps, that in

order not to share the blame, they would not accompany him; that the

King, prepared by them, would grow frightened, perhaps, and would not go

to the Parliament without them; that then all would be lost, and the

powerlessness of the Regent, so clearly manifested, might rapidly lead to

the most disastrous results.

These remarks stopped short our arguments, but I had not started

objections without being prepared with a remedy for them. I said, "Let

the Bed of justice be held at the Tuileries; let it be kept a profound

secret until the very morning it is to take place; and let those who are

to attend it be told so only a few hours before they are to assemble.

By these means no time will be allowed for anybody to object to the

proceeding, to plead the health of the King, the heat of the weather,

or to interfere with the arrangement of the troops which it will be

necessary to make."

We stopped at this: Law went away, and I dictated to Fagon the full

details of my scheme, by which secrecy was to be ensured and all

obstacles provided against. We finished about nine o'clock in the

evening, and I counselled Fagon to carry what he had written to the Abbe

Dubois, who had just returned from England with new credit over the mind

of his master.

The next day I repaired to the Palais Royal about four o'clock. A moment

after La Vrilliere came and relieved me of the company of Grancey and

Broglio, two roues, whom I had found in the grand cabinet, in the cool,

familiarly, without wigs. When M. le Duc d'Orleans was free he led me

into the cabinet, behind the grand salon, by the Rue de Richelieu, and on

entering said he was at the crisis of his regency, and that everything

was needed in order to sustain him on this occasion. He added that he

was resolved to strike a heavy blow at the Parliament; that he much

approved my proposition respecting the Bed of justice at the Tuileries,

and that it would be held exactly as I had suggested.

I was delighted at his animation, and at the firmness he appeared to

possess, and after having well discussed with him all the inconveniences

of my plan, and their remedy, we came at last to a very important matter,

the mechanical means, so to speak, by which that plan was to be put in

force. There was one thing to be provided for, which may appear an

exceedingly insignificant matter, but which in truth was of no light

importance. When a Bed of justice is held, seats one above another must

be provided for those who take part in it. No room in the Tuileries

possessed such seats and how erect them without noise, without exciting

remarks, without causing inquiries and suspicions, which must inevitably

lead to the discovery and perhaps thereby to the failure of our project?

I had not forgotten this difficulty, however, and I said to the Regent

I would go in secret to Fontanieu, who controlled the crown furniture,

explain all to him, and arrange matters with him so that these seats

should be erected at the very last moment, in time for our purpose, but

too late to supply information that could be made use of by our enemies.

I hurried off accordingly, as soon as I could get away, in search of

Fontanieu.

I had already had some relations with him, for he had married his

daughter to the son of the sister of my brother-in-law, M. de Lauzun.

I had done him some little service, and had therefore every reason to

expect he would serve me on this occasion. Judge of my annoyance when

upon reaching his house I learned that he had gone almost to the other

end of the town, to the Marais, to conduct a suit at law, in which

Monsieur and Madame de Lauzun were concerned, respecting an estate at

Rondon they claimed!

The porter seeing me so vexed at being obliged to journey so far in

search of Fontanieu, said, that if I would go and speak to Madame

Fontanieu, he would see if his master was not still in the neighbourhood,

at a place he intended to visit before going to the Marais. I acted upon

this suggestion and went to Madame Fontanieu, whom I found alone. I was

forced to talk to her of the suit of Monsieur and Madame de Lauzun, which

I pretended was the business I came upon, and cruelly did I rack my

brains to say enough to keep up the conversation. When Fontanieu

arrived, for he was soon found, fortunately, I was thrown into another

embarrassment, for I had all the pains in the world to get away from

Madame Fontanieu, who, aided by her husband, begged me not to take the

trouble to descend but to discuss the subject where I was as she was as

well informed upon the case as he, I thought once or twice I should never

escape her. At last, however, I led away Fontanieu, by dint of

compliments to his wife, in which I expressed my unwillingness to weary

her with this affair.

When Fontanieu and I were alone down in his cabinet, I remained some

moments talking to him upon the same subject, to allow the valets who had

opened the doors for us time to retire. Then, to his great astonishment,

I went outside to see if there were no listeners, and carefully closed

the doors. After this I said to Fontanieu that I had not come concerning

the affair of Madame de Lauzun, but upon another very different, which

demanded all his industry, a secrecy proof against every trial, and which

M. le Duc d'Orleans had charged me to communicate to him; but that before

explaining myself he must know whether his Royal Highness could certainly

count upon him.

It is strange what an impression the wildest absurdities leave if they

are spread abroad with art. The first thing Fontanieu did was to tremble

violently all over and become whiter than his shirt. With difficulty he

stammered out a few words to the effect that he would do for M. le Duc

d'Orleans as much as his duty would permit him to do. I smiled, looking

fixedly at him, and this smile warned him apparently that he owed me an

excuse for not being quite at ease upon any affair that passed through my

hands; he directly made me one, at all events, and with the confusion of

a man who sees that his first view has dazzled the second, and who, full

of this first view, does not show anything, yet lets all be seen.

I reassured him as well as I could, and said that I had answered for him

to M. le Duc d'Orleans, and afterwards that a Bed of justice was wanted,

for the construction of which we had need of him.

Scarcely had I explained this, than the poor fellow began to take breath,

as though escaping from stifling oppression, or a painful operation for

the stone, and asked me if that was what I wanted?

He promised everything, so glad was he to be let off thus cheaply, and in

truth he kept to his word, both as to the secret and the work. He had

never seen a Bed of justice, and had not the slightest notion what it was

like. I sat down on his bureau, and drew out the design of one. I

dictated to him the explanations in the margin, because I did not wish

them to be in my handwriting. I talked more than an hour with him; I

disarranged his furniture, the better to show to him the order of the

assembly, and explained to him what was to be done, so that all might be

carried to the Tuileries and erected in a very, few moments. When I

found I had made everything sufficiently clear, and he had understood me,

I returned to the Palais Royal as though recollecting something, being

already in the streets, to deceive my people.

A servant awaited me at the top of the staircase, and the concierge of

the Palais Royal at the door of M. le Duc d'Orleans' room, with orders to

beg me to write. It was the sacred hour of the roues and the supper,

at which all idea of business was banished. I wrote, therefore, to the

Regent in his winter cabinet what I had just done, not without some

little indignation that he could not give up his pleasure for an affair

of this importance. I was obliged to beg the concierge not to give my

note to M. le Duc d'Orleans unless he were in a state to read it and to

burn it afterwards.

Our preparations for the Bed of justice continued to be actively but

silently made during the next few days. In the course of the numberless

discussions which arose upon the subject, it was agreed, after much

opposition on my part, to strike a blow, not only at the Parliament, but

at M. du Maine, who had fomented its discontent. M. le Duc, who had been

admitted to our councils, and who was heart and soul against the

bastards, proposed that at the Bed of justice the education of the young

King should be taken out of the control of M. du Maine and placed in his

hands. He proposed also that the title of Prince of the Blood should be

taken from him, with all the privileges it conferred, and that he should

be reduced to the rank of a simple Duke and Peer, taking his place among

the rest according to the date of his erection; thus, at a bound, going

down to the bottom of the peerage!

Should these memoirs ever see the light, every one who reads them will be

able to judge how such a proposition as this harmonised with my personal

wishes. I had seen the bastards grow in rank and importance with an

indignation and disgust I could scarcely contain. I had seen favour

after favour heaped upon them by the late King, until he crowned all by

elevating them to the rank of Princes of the Blood in defiance of all

law, of all precedent, of all decency, if I must say the word. What I

felt at this accumulation of honours I have more than once expressed;

what I did to oppose such monstrous innovations has also been said. No

man could be more against M. du Maine than I, and yet I opposed this

proposition of M. le Duc because I thought one blow was enough at a time,

and that it might be dangerous to attempt the two at once. M. du Maine

had supporters, nay; he was at the head of a sort of party; strip him of

the important post he held, and what might not his rake, his

disappointment, and his wounded ambition lead him to attempt? Civil war,

perhaps, would be the result of his disgrace.

Again and again I urged these views, not only upon M. le Duc d'Orleans,

but upon M. le Duc. Nay, with this latter I had two long stolen

interviews in the Tuileries Gardens, where we spoke without constraint,

and exhausted all our arguments. But M. le Duc was not to be shaken, and

as I could do no more than I had done to move him, I was obliged at last

to give in. It was resolved, however, that disgrace should fall upon M.

du Maine alone; that his brother, the Comte de Toulouse, an account of

the devotion to the State he had ever exhibited, and his excellent

conduct since the death of the late King, should, when stripped of his

title like the other, receive it back again the moment after, in

acknowledgment of the services he had rendered to the Regent as

Councillor of State, and as an expression of personal good feeling

towards him, which his excellent qualities so justly merited.

I returned home from my last interview with M. le Duc, and went to mass

at the Jacobins, to which I entered from my garden. It was not without a

distracted mind. But I prayed to God sincerely and earnestly to guide my

steps, so that I might labour for His glory and the good of the State

without private ends. My prayer was heard, and in the sequel I had

nothing to reproach myself with. I followed the straight road without

turning to the right or to the left.

Fontanieu was waiting for me in my house as I returned home from mass,

and I was obliged to listen to his questions and to reply to them, as

though I had nothing on my mind. I arranged my chamber like a Bed of

Justice, I made him understand several things; connected with the

ceremonial that he had not under stood before, and that it was essential

he should in no way omit. Thus everything went on satisfactorily, and I

began to count the hours, by day as well as by night, until the great day

was to arrive on which the arrogant pride of the Parliament was to

receive a check, and the false plumage which adorned the bastards was to

be plucked from them.

In the midst of the sweet joy that I felt, no bitterness entered. I was

satisfied with the part I had played in this affair, satisfied that I had

acted sincerely, honestly, that I had not allowed my own private motives

to sway me; that in the interests of the State, as opposed to my own

interests, I had done all in my power to save the Duc du Maine. And yet

I did not dare to give myself up to the rosy thoughts suggested by the

great event, now so rapidly approaching. I toyed with them instead of

allowing myself to embrace them. I shrunk from them as it were like a

cold lover who fears the too ardent caresses of his mistress. I could

not believe that the supreme happiness I had so long pined for was at

last so near. Might not M. le Duc d'Orleans falter at the last moment?

Might not all our preparations, so carefully conducted, so cleverly

planned, weigh upon his feebleness until they fell to the ground? It was

not improbable. He was often firm in promises. How often was he firm in

carrying them out? All these questions, all these restless doubts--

natural as it appears to me under the circumstances--winged their way

through my mind, and kept me excited and feverish as though life and

death were hanging on one thread.

In the midst of my reflections, a messenger from M. le Duc d'Orleans,

Millain by name, arrived at my house. It was on the afternoon of

Thursday, the 25th of August, 1718. His message was simple. M. le Duc

d'Orleans was in the same mood as ever, and I was to join him at the

Palais Royal, according to previous agreement, at eight o'clock in the

evening. The Bed of justice was to be held on the morrow.

Never was kiss given to a beautiful mistress sweeter than that which I

imprinted upon the fat old face of this charming messenger! A close

embrace, eagerly repeated, was my first reply, followed afterwards by an

overflow of feeling for M. le Duc, and for Millain even, who had worthily

served in this great undertaking.

The rest of the day I passed at home with the Abbe Dubois, Fagon, and the

Duc de la Force, one after the other finishing up our work. We provided

against everything: If the Parliament refused to come to the Tuileries,

its interdiction was determined on: if any of the members attempted to

leave Paris they were to be arrested; troops were to be assembled in

order to carry out the Regent's orders; we left no accident without its

remedy.

The Abbe Dubois arranged a little code of signals, such as crossing the

legs, shaking a handkerchief, or other simple gestures, to be given the

first thing in the morning to the officers of the body-guards chosen to

be in attendance in the room where the Bed of Justice was to be held.

They were to fix their eyes upon the Regent, and when he made any of the

above signals, immediately to act upon it according to their written

instructions. The Abbe Dubois also drew out a sort of programme for M.

le Duc d'Orleans, of the different orders he was to give during the

night, fixing the hour for each, so that they might not arrive a minute

too soon or a minute too late, and secrecy thus be maintained to the very

latest moment.

Towards eight o'clock in the evening I went to they Palais Royal. I was

horror-struck to find M. le Duc d'Orleans in bed with fever, as he said;

I felt his pulse. Fever, he had, sure enough; perhaps from excitement

caused by the business in hand. I said to him it was only fatigue of

body and mind, of which he would be quit in twenty-four hours; he, on his

side, protested that whatever it might be, he would hold the Bed of

justice on the morrow. M. le Duc, who had just entered, was at his

pillow; the chamber lighted by a single wax candle. We sat down, M. le

Duc and I, and passed in review the orders given and to give, not without

much apprehension on account of this fever, come so strangely out of

season to the healthiest man in the world, and who had never had it

before.

I exhorted the Regent to take as much repose as he could, so that he

might be fully able to execute the great work of the morrow, the safety

of the Regency itself being at stake. After this I felt his pulse again,

not without fear. I assured him, however, his illness would be nothing;

without, it is true, being too sure of it myself. I took my leave about

ten o'clock, and went out of the room with Millain. When I found myself

alone with him in the cabinet, through which we passed, I embraced him

with an extreme pleasure. We had entered by the backstairs; we descended

by the same, so as not to be observed. It was dark, so that on both

occasions we were obliged to grope our way. Upon arriving at the bottom

I could not refrain from again embracing Millain, so great was my

pleasure, and we separated each to his home.

The arrangements respecting the troops and for summoning the Parliament,

etc., were all carried out to the letter during the night and early

morning. At the hours agreed upon M. le Duc d'Orleans gave the various

orders. About four o'clock in the morning the Duc du Maine, as colonel-

general of the Swiss guards, was aroused. He had not been in bed above

an hour, having just returned from a fete given at the arsenal by Madame

du Maine. He was doubtless much astonished, but contained himself, hid

his fear, and sent at once to instruct his companies of Swiss guards of

the orders they were to execute. I don't think he slept very well after

this, uncertain as he must have been what was going to happen. But I

never knew what he or Madame du Maine did after being thus rudely

disturbed.

Towards five o'clock in the morning drums began to be heard throughout

the town, and soon soldiers were seen in movement. At six o'clock a

message was sent to the Parliament requesting it to attend at the

Tuileries. The reply was that the request should be obeyed. The members

thereupon debated whether they should go to the Tuileries in coaches or

on foot. The last mode was adopted as being the most ordinary, and in

the hope of stirring the people and arriving at the Tuileries with a

yelling crowd. What happened will be related in its place.

At the same time, horsemen went to all the Peers and officers of the

Crown, and to all the chevaliers of the order, the governors and

lieutenant-governors of the provinces (who were to accompany the King),

informing them of the Bed of Justice. The Comte de Toulouse had been to

supper at the house of M. de Nevers, near Saint-Denis, and did not return

until late into the night. The French and Swiss guards were under arms

in various quarters; the watch, the light horse, and the two companies of

musketeers all ready in their barracks; the usual guard at the Tuileries.

If I had slept but little during the last eight days, I slept still less

that night, so near to the most considerable events. I rose before six

o'clock, and shortly after received my summons to the Bed of justice, on

the back of which was a note that I was not to be awakened, a piece of

politeness due to the knowledge of the bearer, who was aware that this

summons would teach me nothing I did not know. All the others had been

awakened, surprised thereby to an extent that may be imagined.

Towards eight o'clock in the morning a messenger from M. le Duc d'Orleans

came to remind me of the Regency Council at eight o'clock, and to attend

it in my mantle. I dressed myself in black, because I had only that suit

with a mantle, and another, a magnificent one in cloth of gold, which I

did not wish to wear lest it should cause the remark to be made, though

much out of season, that I wished to insult the Parliament and M. du

Maine. I took two gentlemen with me in my coach, and I went in order to

witness all that was to take place. I was at the same time full of fear,

hope, joy, reflection, and mistrust of M. le Duc d'Orleans' weakness, and

all that might result from it. I was also firmly resolved to do my best,

whatever might happen, but without appearing to know anything, and

without eagerness, and I resolved to show presence of mind, attention,

circumspection, modesty, and much moderation.