Some time after, to relate all at once, M. le Duc d’Orleans wished me to

see Law in order that he might explain to me his plans, and asked me to

do so as a favour. I represented to him my unskilfulness in all finance

matters; that Law would in vain speak a language to me of which I

understood nothing, that we should both lose our time very uselessly.

I tried to back out thus, as well as I could. The Regent several times

reverted to the charge, and at last demanded my submission. Law came

then to my house. Though there was much of the foreigner in his bearing,

in his expressions, and in his accent, he expressed himself in very good

terms, with much clearness and precision. He conversed with me a long

while upon his bank, which, indeed, was an excellent thing in itself, but

for another country rather than for France, and with a prince less easy

than the Regent. Law had no other solutions to give me, of my two

objections, than those the Regent himself had given, which did not

satisfy me. But as the affair had passed, and there was nothing now to

do but well direct it, principally upon that did our conversation turn.

I made him feel as much as I could the importance of not showing such

facility, that it might be abused, with a Regent so good, so easy, so

open, so surrounded. I masked as well as I could what I wished to make

him understand thereupon; and I dwelt especially upon the necessity of

being prepared to satisfy instantly all bearers of notes, who should

demand payment: for upon this depended the credit or the overthrow of the

bank. Law, on going out, begged me to permit him to come sometimes and

talk with me; we separated mutually satisfied, at which the Regent was

still more so.

Law came several other times to my house, and showed much desire to grow

intimate with me. I kept to civilities, because finance entered not into

my head, and I regarded as lost time all these conversations. Some time

after, the Regent, who spoke to me tolerably often of Law with great

prepossession, said that he had to ask of me, nay to demand of me, a

favour; it was, to receive a visit from Law regularly every week. I

represented to him the perfect inutility of these conversations, in which

I was incapable of learning anything, and still more so of enlightening

Law upon subjects he possessed, and of which I knew naught. It was in

vain; the Regent wished it; obedience was necessary. Law, informed of

this by the Regent, came then to my house. He admitted to me with good

grace, that it was he who had asked the Regent to ask me, not daring to

do so himself. Many compliments followed on both sides, and we agreed

that he should come to my house every Tuesday morning about ten o’clock,

and that my door should be closed to everybody while he remained. This

first visit was not given to business. On the following Tuesday morning

he came to keep his appointment, and punctually came until his

discomfiture. An hour-and-a-half, very often two hours, was the ordinary

time for our conversations. He always took care to inform me of the

favour his bank was obtaining in France and foreign countries, of its

products, of his views, of his conduct, of the opposition he met with

from the heads of finance and the magistracy, of his reasons, and

especially of his balance sheet, to convince me that he was more than

prepared to face all holders of notes whatever sums they had to ask for.

I soon knew that if Law had desired these regular visits at my house, it

was not because he expected to make me a skilful financier; but because,

like a man of sense--and he had a good deal--he wished to draw near a

servitor of the Regent who had the best post in his confidence, and who

long since had been in a position to speak to him of everything and of

everybody with the greatest freedom and the most complete liberty; to try

by this frequent intercourse to gain my friendship; inform himself by me

of the intrinsic qualities of those of whom he only saw the outside; and

by degrees to come to the Council, through me, to represent the

annoyances he experienced, the people with whom he had to do; and lastly,

to profit by my dislike to the Duc de Noailles, who, whilst embracing him

every day, was dying of jealousy and vexation, and raised in his path,

under-hand, all the obstacles and embarrassments possible, and would have

liked to stifle him. The bank being in action and flourishing,

I believed it my duty to sustain it. I lent myself, therefore, to the

instructions Law proposed, and soon we spoke to each other with a

confidence I never have had reason to repent. I will not enter into the

details of this bank, the other schemes which followed it, or the

operations made in consequence. This subject of finance would fill

several volumes. I will speak of it only as it affects the history of

the time, or what concerns me in particular. It is the history of my

time I have wished to write; I should have been too much turned from it

had I entered into the immense details respecting finance. I might add

here what Law was. I defer it to a time when this curiosity will be more

in place.

Arouet, son of a notary, who was employed by my father and me until his

death, was exiled and sent to Tulle at this time (the early part of

1716), for some verses very satirical and very impudent.

I should not amuse myself by writing down such a trifle, if this same

Arouet, having become a great poet and academician under the name of

Voltaire, had not also become--after many tragical adventures--a manner

of personage in the republic of letters, and even achieved a sort of

importance among certain people.

CHAPTER LXXXIII

I have elsewhere alluded to Alberoni, and shown what filthy baseness he

stooped to in order to curry favour with the infamous Duc de Vendome.

I have also shown that he accompanied the new Queen of Spain from Parma

to Madrid, after she had been married, by procuration, to Philip V. He

arrived at the Court of Spain at a most opportune moment for his fortune.

Madame des Ursins had just been disgraced; there was no one to take her

place. Alberoni saw his opportunity and was not slow to avail himself of

it. During the journey with the new Queen, he had contrived to

ingratiate himself so completely into her favour, that she was, in a

measure, prepared to see only with his eyes. The King had grown so

accustomed to be shut out from all the world, and to be ruled by others,

that he easily adapted himself to his new chains. The Queen and

Alberoni, then, in a short time had him as completely under their thumb,

as he had before been under that of Madame des Ursins.

Alberoni, unscrupulous and ambitious, stopped at nothing in order to

consolidate his power and pave the way for his future greatness. Having

become prime minister, he kept the King as completely inaccessible to the

courtiers as to the world; would allow no one to approach him whose

influence he had in any way feared. He had Philip completely in his own

hands by means of the Queen, and was always on his guard to keep him

there.

Ever since the Regent’s accession to power an intimacy had gradually been

growing up between the two governments of France and England. This was

mainly owing to the intrigues of the Abbe Dubois, who had sold himself to

the English Court, from which he secretly received an enormous pension.

He was, therefore, devoted heart and soul--if such a despicable personage

can be said to have the one or the other--to the interests of King

George, and tried to serve them in every way. He had but little

difficulty--comparatively speaking--in inducing M. le Duc d’Orleans to

fall into his nets, and to declare himself in favour of an English

alliance. Negotiations with this end in view were, in fact, set on foot,

had been for some time; and about the month of September of this year

(1716), assumed a more smiling face than they had yet displayed.

Both France and England, from different motives, wished to draw Spain

into this alliance. The Regent, therefore, in order to further this

desire, obtained from England a promise that she would give up Gibraltar

to its former owners, the Spaniards. The King of England consented to do

so, but on one condition: it was, that in order not to expose himself to

the cries of the party opposed to him, this arrangement should be kept

profoundly secret until executed. In order that this secrecy might be

secured, he stipulated that the negotiation should not in any way pass

through the hands of Alberoni, or any Spanish minister, but be treated

directly between the Regent and the King of Spain, through a confidential

agent chosen by the former.

This confidential agent was to take a letter respecting the treaty to the

King of Spain, a letter full of insignificant trifles, and at the same

time a positive order from the King of England, written and signed by his

hand, to the Governor of Gibraltar, commanding him to surrender the place

to the King of Spain the very moment he received this order, and to

retire with his garrison, etc., to Tangiers. In order to execute this a

Spanish general was suddenly to march to Gibraltar, under pretence of

repressing the incursions of its garrison,--summon the Governor to

appear, deliver to him the King of England’s order, and enter into

possession of the place. All this was very weakly contrived; but this

concerned the King of England, not us.

I must not be proud; and must admit that I knew nothing of all this, save

at second-hand. If I had, without pretending to be very clever, I must

say that I should have mistrusted this fine scheme. The King of England

could not be ignorant with what care and with what jealousy the Queen and

Alberoni kept the King of Spain locked up, inaccessible to everybody--and

that the certain way to fail, was to try to speak to him without their

knowledge, in spite of them, or unaided by them. However, my opinion

upon this point was not asked, and accordingly was not given.

Louville was the secret agent whom the Regent determined to send. He had

already been in Spain, had gained the confidence of the King, and knew

him better than any other person who could have been chosen. Precisely

because of all these reasons, I thought him the most unfit person to be

charged with this commission. The more intimate he had been with the

King of Spain, the more firm in his confidence, the more would he be

feared by the Queen and Alberoni; and the more would they do to cover his

embassy with failure, so as to guard their credit and their authority.

I represented my views on this subject to Louville, who acknowledged

there was truth in them, but contented himself with saying, that he had

not in his surprise dared to refuse the mission offered to him; and that

if he succeeded in it, the restitution to Spain of such an important

place as Gibraltar, would doubtless be the means of securing to him large

arrears of pensions due to him from Philip the First: an object of no

small importance in his eyes. Louville, therefore, in due time departed

to Madrid, on his strange and secret embassy.

Upon arriving he went straight to the house of the Duc de Saint-Aignan,

our ambassador, and took up his quarters there. Saint-Aignan who had

received not the slightest information of his arriving, was surprised

beyond measure at it. Alberoni was something more than surprised.

As fortune would have it, Louville when at some distance from Madrid was

seen by a courier, who straightway told Alberoni of the circumstance.

As may be imagined, tormented as Alberoni was by jealousy and suspicion,

this caused him infinite alarm. He was quite aware who Louville was;

the credit he had attained with the King of Spain; the trouble Madame

des Ursins and the deceased Queen had had to get him out of their way;

the fear, therefore, that he conceived on account of this unexpected

arrival, was so great that he passed all bounds, in order to free himself

from it.

He instantly despatched a courier to meet Louville with an order

prohibiting him to approach any nearer to Madrid. The courier missed

Louville, but a quarter of an hour after this latter had alighted at

Saint-Aignan’s, he received a note from Grimaldo inclosing an order from

the King of Spain, commanding him to leave the city that instant!

Louville replied that he was charged with a confidential letter from the

King of France, and with another from M. le Duc d’Orleans, for the King

of Spain; and with a commission for his Catholic Majesty which would not

permit him to leave until he had executed it. In consequence of this

reply, a courier was at once despatched to the Prince de Cellamare,

Spanish ambassador at Paris, ordering him to ask for the recall of

Louville, and to declare that the King of Spain so disliked his person

that he would neither see him, nor allow him to treat with any of the

ministers!

Meanwhile the fatigue of the journey followed by such a reception so

affected Louville, that during the night he had an attack of a disease to

which he was subject, so that he had a bath prepared for him, into which

he got towards the end of the morning.

Alberoni, not satisfied with what he had already done, came himself to

the Duc de Saint-Aignan’s, in order to persuade Louville to depart at

once. Despite the representations made to him, he insisted upon

penetrating to the sick-chamber. There he saw Louville in his bath.

Nothing could be more civil than the words of Alberoni, but nothing could

be more dry, more negative, or more absolute than their signification.

He pitied the other’s illness and the fatigue of his journey; would have

wished to have known of this journey beforehand, so as to have prevented

it; and had hoped to be able to overcome the repugnance of the King of

Spain to see him, or at least to obtain permission for him to remain some

days in Madrid. He added that he had been unable to shake his Majesty in

any way, or to avoid obeying the very express order he had received from

him, to see that he (Louville) departed at once.

Louville, however, was in a condition which rendered his departure

impossible. Alberoni admitted this, but warned him that his stay must

only last as long as his illness, and that the attack once over, he must

away. Louville insisted upon the confidential letters, of which he was

the bearer, and which gave him an official character, instructed as he

was to execute an important commission from the King of France, nephew of

the King of Spain, such as his Majesty could not refuse to hear direct

from his mouth, and such as he would regret not having listened to.

The dispute was long and warm, despite the illness of Louville, who could

gain nothing. He did not fail to remain five or six days with the Duc de

Saint-Aignan, and to make him act as ambassador in order to obtain an

audience of the King, although Saint-Aignan was hurt at being kept

ignorant of the object of the other’s mission.

Louville did not dare to call upon a soul, for fear of committing

himself, and nobody dared to call upon him. He hazarded, however, for

curiosity, to go and see the King of Spain pass through a street, and

ascertain if, on espying him, he would not be tempted to hear him, in

case his arrival, as was very possible, had been kept a secret. But

Alberoni had anticipated everything. Louville saw the King pass,

certainly, but found it was impossible to make himself perceived by his

Majesty. Grimaldo came afterwards to intimate to Louville an absolute

order to depart, and to inform the Duc de Saint-Aignan that the King of

Spain was so angry with the obstinacy of this delay, that he would not

say what might happen if the stay of Louville was protracted; but that he

feared the respect due to a representative minister, and above all an

ambassador of France, would be disregarded.

Both Louville and Saint-Aignan clearly saw that all audience was

impossible, and that in consequence a longer stay could only lead to

disturbances which might embroil the two crowns; so that, at the end of

seven or eight days, Louville departed, returning as he came. Alberoni

began then to breathe again after the extreme fear he had had. He was

consoled by this proof of his power, which showed he need no longer fear

that any one could approach the King without his aid, or that any

business could be conducted without him. Thus Spain lost Gibraltar, and

she has never been able to recover it since.

Such is the utility of prime ministers!

Alberoni spread the report in Spain and in France, that Philip V. had

taken a mortal aversion against Louville, since he had driven him out of

the country for his insolence and his scheming; that he would never see

him, and was offended because he had passed the Pyrenees; that Louville

had no proposition to make, or commission to execute; that he had

deceived the Regent, in making him believe that if once he found a

pretext for appearing before the King of Spain, knowing him so well as he

did, that prince would be ravished by the memory of his former affection,

would reinstate him in his former credit, and thus France would be able

to make Spain do all she wished. In a word, Alberoni declared that

Louville had only come into the country to try and obtain some of the

pensions he had been promised on quitting the King of Spain, but that he

had not gone the right way to work to be so soon paid.

Nothing short of the effrontery of Alberoni would have been enough for

the purpose of spreading these impostures. No one had forgotten in Spain

what Madame des Ursins had done to get rid of Louville, how the King of

Spain had resisted; that she was not able to succeed without the aid of

France and her intrigues with Madame de Maintenon; and that the King,

afflicted to the utmost, yielding to the orders given by France to

Louville, had doubled the pensions which had for a long time been paid to

him, given him a sum of money in addition, and the government of

Courtray, which he lost only by the misfortune of the war that followed

the loss of the battle of Ramillies. With respect to the commission, to

deny it was an extreme piece of impudence, a man being concerned so well

known as Louville, who descends at the house of the ambassador of France,

says he has letters of trust from the King and the Regent, and an

important mission which he can only confide to the King of Spain, the

self-same ambassador striving to obtain an audience for him. Nothing was

so easy as to cover Louville with confusion, if he had spoken falsely,

by making him show his letters; if he had none he would have been struck

dumb, and having no official character, Alberoni would have been free to

punish him. Even if with confidential letters, he had only a complaint

to utter in order to introduce himself and to solicit his pay, Alberoni

would very easily have been able to dishonour him, because he had no

commission after having roundly asserted that he was charged with one of

great importance. But omnipotence says and does with impunity whatever

it pleases.

Louville having returned, it was necessary to send word to the King of

England of all he had done in Spain; and this business came to nothing,

except that it set Alberoni against the Regent for trying to execute a

secret commission without his knowledge; and that it set the Regent

against Alberoni for frustrating a project so openly, and for showing the

full force of his power. Neither of the two ever forgot this matter; and

the dislike of Alberoni to the Regent led, as will be seen, to some

strange results.

I will add here, that the treaty of alliance between France and England

was signed a short time after this event. I did my utmost to prevent it,

representing to the Regent that his best policy was to favour the cause

of the Pretender, and thus by keeping the attention of Great Britain

continually fixed upon her domestic concerns, he would effectually

prevent her from influencing the affairs of the continent, and long were

the conversations I had with him, insisting upon this point. But

although, while he was with me, my arguments might appear to have some

weight with him, they were forgotten, clean swept from his mind, directly

the Abbe Dubois, who had begun to obtain a most complete and pernicious

influence over him, brought his persuasiveness to bear. Dubois’ palm had

been so well greased by the English that he was afraid of nothing.

He succeeded then in inducing the Regent to sign a treaty with England,

in every way, it may safely be said, advantageous to that power, and in

no way advantageous to France. Amongst other conditions, the Regent

agreed to send the so-called Pretender out of the realm, and to force him

to seek an asylum in Italy. This was, in fact, executed to the letter.

King James, who for some time had retired to Avignon, crossed the Alps

and settled in Rome, where he lived ever afterwards. I could not but

deplore the adoption of a policy so contrary to the true interests of

France; but the business being done I held my peace, and let matters take

their course. It was the only course of conduct open to me.

CHAPTER LXXXIV

I have already shown in these memoirs, that the late King had made of the

lieutenant of police a species of secret and confidential minister; a

sort of inquisitor, with important powers that brought him in constant

relation with the King. The Regent, with less authority than the

deceased monarch, and with more reasons than he to be well informed of

everything passing, intrigues included, found occupying this office of

lieutenant of police, Argenson, who had gained his good graces chiefly,

I fancy, when the affair of the cordelier was on the carpet, as shown in

its place. Argenson, who had much intelligence, and who had desired this

post as the entry, the basis, and the road of his fortune, filled it in a

very superior manner, and the Regent made use of him with much liberty.

The Parliament, very ready to show the extent of its authority

everywhere, at the least as though in competition with that of the

Regent, suffered impatiently what it called the encroachments of the

Court. It wished to indemnify itself for the silence it had been

compelled to keep thereon under the last reign, and to re-obtain at the

expense of the Regent all it had lost of its authority over the police,

of which it is the head. The lieutenant of police is answerable to this

body--even receives his orders from it, and its reprimands (in public

audiences, standing uncovered at the bar of the Parliament) from the

mouth of the Chief-President, or of him who presides, and who calls him

neither Master nor Monsieur, but nakedly by his name, although the

lieutenant of police might have claimed these titles, being then

Councillor of State.

The Parliament wished, then, to humiliate Argenson (whom it hated during

the time of the deceased King); to give a disagreeable lesson to the

Regent; to prepare worse treatment still for his lieutenant of police; to

make parade of its power, to terrify thus the public, and arrogate to

itself the right of limiting the authority of the Regent.

Argenson had often during the late reign, and sometimes since, made use

of an intelligent and clever fellow, just suited to him, and named

Pomereu, to make discoveries, arrest people, and occasionally keep them a

short time in his own house. The Parliament believed, and rightly, that

in arresting this man under other pretexts, it would find the thread of

many curious and secret tortuosities, which would aid its design, and

that it might plume itself upon protecting the public safety against the

tyranny of secret arrests and private imprisonments. To carry out its

aim it made use of the Chamber of justice, so as to appear as little as

possible in the matter. This Chamber hastened on so well the

proceedings, for fear of being stopped on the road, that the first hint

people had of them was on learning that Pomereu was, by decree of this

Chamber, in the prisons of the Conciergerie, which are those of the

Parliament. Argenson, who was informed of this imprisonment immediately

it took place, instantly went to the Regent, who that very moment sent a

‘lettre de cachet’, ordering Pomereu to be taken from prison by force if

the gaoler made the slightest difficulty in giving him up to the bearers

of the ‘lettre de cachet’; but that gentleman did not dare to make any.

The execution was so prompt that this man was not an hour in prison, and

they who had sent him there had not time to seize upon a box of papers

which had been transported with him to the Conciergerie, and which was

very carefully carried away with him. At the same time, everything in

any way bearing upon Pomereu, or upon the things in which he had been

employed, was carefully removed and secreted.

The vexation of the Parliament upon seeing its prey, which it had

reckoned upon making such a grand use of, carried off before its eyes,

may be imagined. It left nothing undone in order to move the public by

its complaints, and by its cries against such an attack upon law. The

Chamber of justice sent a deputation to the Regent, who made, fun of it,

by gravely giving permission to the deputies to re-take their prisoner,

but without saying a single word to them upon his escape from gaol. He

was in Paris, in a place where he feared nobody. The Chamber of justice

felt the derisiveness of the Regent’s permission, and ceased to transact

business. It thought to embarrass the Regent thus, but ‘twould have been

at its own expense. This lasted only a day or two. The Duc de Noailles

spoke to the Chamber; the members felt they could gain nothing by their

strike, and that if they were obstinate they would be dispensed with, and

others found to perform their duties. They recommenced their labours

then, and the Parliament gained nothing by its attack, but only showed

its ill-will, and at the same time its powerlessness.

I have forgotten something which, from its singularity, deserves

recollection, and I will relate it now lest it should escape me again.

One afternoon, as we were about to take our places at the regency

council, the Marechal de Villars drew me aside and asked me if I knew

that Marly was going to be destroyed. I replied, “No;” indeed, I had not

heard speak of it; and I added that I could not believe it. “You do not

approve of it?” said the Marechal. I assured him I was far from doing

so. He repeated that the destruction was resolved on, that he knew it

beyond all doubt, and that if I wished to hinder it, I had not a moment

to lose. I replied that when we took our places I would speak to M. le

Duc d’Orleans. “Immediately,” quickly replied the Marechal; “speak to

him this instant, for the order is perhaps already given.”

As all the council were already seated I went behind to M. le Duc

d’Orleans, and whispered in his ear what I had just learnt without naming

from whom, and begged him, if my information was right, to suspend

execution of his project until I had spoken to him, adding that I would

join him at the Palais Royal after the council. He stammered a little,

as if sorry at being discovered, but nevertheless agreed to wait for me:

I said so in leaving to the Marechal de Villars, and went to the Palais

Royal, where M. le Duc d’Orleans admitted the truth of the news I had

heard. I said I would not ask who had given such a pernicious counsel.

He tried to show it was good by pointing to the saving in keeping up that

would be obtained; to the gain that would accrue from the sale of so many

water-conduits and materials; to the unpleasant situation of a place to

which the King would not be able to go for several years; and to the

expense the King was put to in keeping up so many other beautiful houses,

not one of which admitted of pulling down.

I replied to him, that these were the reasons of the guardian of a

private gentleman that had been presented to him, the conduct of whom

could in no way resemble that of the guardian of a King of France; that

the expenses incurred in keeping up Marly were necessary, and that,

compared with the total of those of the King, they were but as drops in

the ocean. I begged him to get rid of the idea that the sale of the

materials would yield any profit,--all the receipts would go in gifts and

pillage, I said; and also that it was not these petty objects he ought to

regard, but that he should consider how many millions had been buried in

this ancient sewer, to transform it into a fairy palace, unique as to

form in all Europe--unique by the beauty of its fountains, unique also by

the reputation that the deceased King had given to it; and that it was an

object of curiosity to strangers of every rank who came to France; that

its destruction would resound throughout Europe with censure; that these

mean reasons of petty economy would not prevent all France from being

indignant at seeing so distinguished an ornament swept away; that

although neither he nor I might be very delicate upon what had been the

taste and the favourite work of the late King, the Regent ought to avoid

wounding his memory,--which by such a long reign, so many brilliant

years, so many grand reverses so heroically sustained, and escaped from

in so unhoped-for a manner--had left the entire world in veneration of

his person: in fine, that he might reckon all the discontented, all the

neutral even, would join in chorus with the Ancient Court, and cry

murder; that the Duc du Maine, Madame de Ventadour, the Marechal de

Villeroy would not hesitate to look upon the destruction of Marly as a

crime against the King,--a crime they would not fail to make the best of

for their own purposes during all the regency, and even after it was at

an end. I clearly saw that M. le Duc d’Orleans had not in the least

reflected upon all this. He agreed that I was right: promised that Marly

should not be touched, that it should continue to be kept up, and thanked

me for preserving him from this fault.

When I was well assured of him, “Admit,” said I, “that the King, in the

other world, would be much astonished if he could know that the Duc de

Noailles had made you order the destruction of Marly, and that it was who

hindered it.”

“Oh! as to that,” he quickly replied, “it is true he could not believe

it.” In effect Marly was preserved and kept up; and it is the Cardinal

Fleury, with his collegiate proctor’s avarice, who has stripped it of its

river, which was its most superb charm.

I hastened to relate this good resolve to the Marechal de Villars.

The Duc de Noailles, who, for his own private reasons, had wished the

destruction of Marly, was furious when he saw his proposal fail.

To indemnify himself in some degree for his vexation, he made the Regent

agree, in the utmost secrecy, for fear of another failure, that all the

furniture, linen, etc., should be sold. He persuaded M. le Duc d’Orleans

that all these things would be spoiled and lost by the time the King was

old enough to use them; that in selling them a large sum would be gained

to relieve expenses; and that in future years the King could furnish

Marly as he pleased. There was an immense quantity of things sold, but

owing to favour and pillage they brought very little; and to replace them

afterwards, millions were spent. I did not know of this sale, at which

anybody bought who wished, and at very low prices, until it had

commenced; therefore I was unable to hinder this very damaging

parsimoniousness.

The Regent just about this time was bestowing his favours right and left

with a very prodigal hand; I thought, therefore, I was fully entitled to

ask him for one, which, during the previous reign, had been so rare, so

useful, and accordingly so difficult to obtain; I mean the right of

entering the King’s room--the ‘grandes entrees’--as it was called, and I

attained it at once.

Since the occasion offers, I may as well explain what are the different

sorts of entrees. The most precious are called the “grand,” which give

the right to enter into all the retired places of the King’s apartments,

whenever the grand chamberlain and the chief gentlemen of the chamber

enter. The importance of this privilege under a King who grants

audiences with difficulty, need not be insisted on. Enjoying it, you can

speak with him, tete-a-tete, whenever you please, without asking his

permission, and without the knowledge of others; you obtain a

familiarity, too, with him by being able to see him thus in private.

The offices which give this right are, those of grand chamberlain, of

first gentleman of the chamber, and of grand master of the wardrobe on

annual duty; the children, legitimate and illegitimate, of the King, and

the wives and husbands of the latter enjoy the same right. As for

Monsieur and M. le Duc d’Orleans they always had these entrees, and as

sons of France, were at liberty to enter and see the King at all hours,

but they did not abuse this privilege. The Duc du Maine and the Comte de

Toulouse had the same, which they availed themselves of unceasingly, but

by the back stairs.

The second entrees, simply called entrees, were purely personal; no

appointment or change gave them. They conferred the right to see the

King at his rising, after the grandes, and also to see him, but under

difficulties, during all the day and evening.

The last entrees are those called chamber entrees. They also give the

right to see the King at his rising, before the distinguished courtiers;

but no other privilege except to be present at the booting of the King.

This was the name employed when the King changed his coat, in going or

returning from hunting or a walk. At Marly, all who were staying there

by invitation, entered to see this ceremony without asking; elsewhere,

those who had not the entree were excluded. The first gentleman of the

chamber had the right, and used it sometimes, to admit four or five

persons at the most, to the “booting,” if they asked, and provided they

were people of quality, or of some distinction.

Lastly, there were the entrees of the cabinet which gave you the right to

wait for the King there when he entered after rising, until he had given

orders for the day, and to pay your court to him, and to enter there when

he entered to change his coat. Beyond this, the privilege attached to

these admissions did not extend. The Cardinals and the Princes of the

blood had the entrees of the chamber and those of the cabinet, so had all

the chief officials.

I was the first who had the ‘grandes entrees’ from the Regent. D’Antin

asked for them next. Soon after, upon this example, they were accorded

to D’O. M. le Prince de Conti, the sole prince of the blood who had them

not, because he was the sole prince of the blood who did not come from

Madame de Montespan, received them next, and little by little the

privilege was completely prostituted as so many others were.

By extremely rare good fortune a servant employed in the diamond mines of

the Great Mogul found means to secrete about his person a diamond of

prodigious size, and what is more marvellous, to gain the seashore and

embark without being subjected to the rigid and not very delicate ordeal,

that all persons not above suspicion by their name or their occupation,

are compelled to submit to, ere leaving the country. He played his cards

so well, apparently, that he was not suspected of having been near the

mines, or of having had anything to do with the jewel trade. To complete

his good fortune he safely arrived in Europe with his diamond. He showed

it to several princes, none of whom were rich enough to buy, and carried

it at last to England, where the King admired it, but could not resolve

to purchase it. A model of it in crystal was made in England, and the

man, the diamond, and the model (perfectly resembling the original) were

introduced to Law, who proposed to the Regent that he should purchase the

jewel for the King. The price dismayed the Regent, who refused to buy.

Law, who had in many things much grandour of sentiment, came dispirited

to me, bringing the model. I thought, with him, that it was not

consistent with the greatness of a King of France to be repelled from the

purchase of an inestimable jewel, unique of its kind in the world, by the

mere consideration of price, and that the greater the number of

potentates who had not dared to think of it, the greater ought to be his

care not to let it escape him. Law, ravished to find me think in this

manner, begged me to speak to M. le Duc d’Orleans. The state of the

finances was an obstacle upon which the Regent much insisted. He feared

blame for making so considerable a purchase, while the most pressing

necessities could only be provided for with much trouble, and so many

people were of necessity kept in distress. I praised this sentiment,

but I said that he ought not to regard the greatest King of Europe as he

would a private gentleman, who would be very reprehensible if he threw

away 100,000 livres upon a fine diamond, while he owed many debts which

he could not pay: that he must consider the honour of the crown, and not

lose the occasion of obtaining, a priceless diamond which would efface

the lustre of all others in Europe: that it was a glory for his regency

which would last for ever; that whatever might be the state of the

finances the saving obtained by a refusal of the jewel would not much

relieve them, for it would be scarcely perceptible; in fact I did not

quit M. le Duc d’Orleans until he had promised that the diamond should be

bought.

Law, before speaking to me, had so strongly represented to the dealer the

impossibility of selling his diamond at the price he hoped for, and the

loss he would suffer in cutting it into different pieces, that at last he

made him reduce the price to two millions, with the scrapings, which must

necessarily be made in polishing, given in. The bargain was concluded on

these terms. The interest upon the two millions was paid to the dealer

until the principal could be given to him, and in the meanwhile two

millions’ worth of jewels were handed to him as security.

M. le Duc d’Orleans was agreeably deceived by the applause that the

public gave to an acquisition so beautiful and so unique. This diamond

was called the “Regent.” It is of the size of a greengage plum, nearly

round, of a thickness which corresponds with its volume, perfectly white,

free from all spot, speck, or blemish, of admirable water, and weighs

more than 500 grains. I much applauded myself for having induced the

Regent to make so illustrious a purchase.

CHAPTER LXXXV

In 1716 the Duchesse de Lesdiguieres died at Paris in her fine hotel.

She was not old, but had been long a widow, and had lost her only son.

She was the last relic of the Gondi who were brought into France by

Catherine de’ Medici, and who made so prodigious a fortune. She left

great wealth. She was a sort of fairy, who, though endowed with much

wit, would see scarcely anybody, still less give dinners to the few

people she did see. She never went to Court, and seldom went out of her

house. The door of her house was always thrown back, disclosing a

grating, through which could be perceived a true fairy palace, such as

is sometimes described in romances. Inside it was nearly desert, but of

consummate magnificence, and all this confirmed the first impression,

assisted by the singularity of everything, her followers, her livery,

the yellow hangings of her carriage, and the two great Moors who always

followed her. She left much to her servants, and for pious purposes, but

nothing to her daughter-in-law, though poor and respectful to her. Others

got magnificent legacies.

Cavoye died about the same time. I have said enough about him and his

wife to have nothing to add. Cavoye, away from Court, was like a fish

out of water; and he could not stand it long. If romances have rarely

produced conduct like that of his wife towards him, they would with still

greater difficulty describe the courage with which her lasting love for

her husband sustained her in her attendance on his last illness, and the

entombment to which she condemned herself afterwards. She preserved her

first mourning all her life, never slept away from the house where he

died, or went out, except to go twice a day to Saint-Sulpice to pray in

the chapel where he was buried. She would never see any other persons

besides those she had seen during the last moments of her husband, and

occupied herself with good works also, consuming herself thus in a few

years without a single sign of hesitation. A vehemence so equal and so

maintained is perhaps an example, great, unique, and assuredly very

respectable.

Peter I., Czar of Muscovy, has made for himself, and justly, such a great

name, in his own country, in all Europe, and in Asia, that I will not

undertake to describe so grand, so illustrious a prince--comparable to

the greatest men of antiquity--who has been the admiration of his age,

who will be that of years to come, and whom all Europe has been so much

occupied in studying. The singularity of the journey into France of so

extraordinary a prince, has appeared to me to deserve a complete

description in an unbroken narrative. It is for this reason that I place

my account of it here a little late, according to the order of time, but

with dates that will rectify this fault.

Various things relating to this monarch have been seen in their place;

his various journeys to Holland, Germany, Vienna, England, and to several

parts of the North; the object of those journeys, with some account of

his military actions, his policy, his family. It has been shown that he

wished to come into France during the time of the late King, who civilly

refused to receive him. There being no longer this obstacle, he wished

to satisfy his curiosity, and he informed the Regent through Prince

Kourakin, his ambassador at Paris, that he was going to quit the Low

Countries, and come and see the King.

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.