"His retirement was of the strangest. He withdrew into a convent in
the Faubourg St. Antoine, called La Madeleine de Tresnel. A long time
before, he had fitted up an apartment in the convent buildings which he
had furnished handsomely and well. It was as convenient as a house, and
for many years he was in the habit of going there as often as he could.
He had procured, even given, large sums to this convent for the sake
of a Madame du Veni, who was the Superior--a relation, he said--and
of whom he was very fond. She was a very charming person, extremely
witty, and one of whom none have ever thought of speaking ill. All the
Argensons paid court to her; but the strange thing about it was that
when he was chief of police and fell ill, she left her convent to come
to his house and to remain near him."[45] A strong man and a strange
one, and withal, a lovable, as we learn from many besides Madame du
Veni.
In June, 1720, his "brief and troublous ministry"[46] came to an end,
and the Palais Royal knew him no longer. He had but a short time to
enjoy the rest which had come to him as a happy release. On May 8,
1721, he died. Many was the shrewd encounter he had had with the rabble
of the slums; and as the old chief was borne to his last home, he was
pursued by the curses of the basket-women of Paris. And hearing of it,
proud and beautiful old Mathieu Marais turned in disgust from "this mad
populace, which, while he lived, dared never look him in the face;" and
alone with his journal, with his mind upon the man who had passed away,
he writes:--
"Who will have his soul, I know not. In the other world, as in this,
there must be a fine debate over it."[47]
He left behind him one who was to uphold the honour of a worthy name,
and to bequeath to criticism an exercise no less perplexing. Upon the
features of his son, the Marquis d'Argenson of history, the family
lineaments are clearly marked. The moral fibre, the exuberant vitality,
the rough irreverence for the world and its ways, which distinguished
the men whose portraits have been sketched, descended to the heir of
their name. We have but to see how the given material was affected
by the influence of an inauspicious training, to be in possession of
the radical substance of d'Argenson's character. In default of such
knowledge of the man and his mind, it is impossible to criticise his
life with justice; for without the secret of his singularities of
temper, one is tempted to yield to that haste and impatience which they
are too often apt to provoke. The secret once discovered, there is no
longer any room for irritation; but we are content to pity him for the
weaknesses of his character, while we admire him for its real nobility.