To say the truth, all tended towards whatever was extreme--moderation

seemed forgotten--and it was high time the Regent aroused himself from a

supineness which rendered him contemptible, and which emboldened his

enemies and those of the State to brave all and undertake all. This

lethargy, too, disheartened his servants, and made all healthy activity

on their part impossible. It had at last led him to the very verge of

the precipice, and the realm he governed to within an inch of the

greatest confusion. He had need, indeed, to be up and doing!

The Regent, without having the horrible vice or the favourites of Henry

III., had even more than that monarch become notorious for his daily

debauches, his indecency, and his impiety. Like Henry III., too, he was

betrayed by his most intimate councillors and domestics. This treachery

pleased him (as it had pleased that King) because it induced him to keep

idle, now from fear, now from interest, now from disdain, and now from

policy. This torpor was agreeable to him because it was in conformity

with his humour and his tastes, and because he regarded those who

counselled it as good, wise, and enlightened people, not blinded by their

private interests, but seeing clearly things as they were; while he was

importuned with opinions and explanations which would have disclosed the

true state of affairs and suggested remedies.

He looked upon such people as offered these opinions and explanations as

impetuous counsellors, who hurried everything and suggested everything,

who wished to discount the future in order to satisfy their ambition,

their aversion, their different passions. He kept on his guard against

them; he applauded himself for not being their dupe. Now, he laughed at

them; often he allowed them to believe he appreciated their reasoning,

that he was going to act and rouse from his lethargy. He amused them

thus, gained time, and diverted himself afterwards with the others.

Sometimes he replied coldly to them, and when they pressed him too much

he allowed his suspicions to peep out.

Long since I had perceived M. le Duc d’Orleans’ mode of action. At the

first movements of the Parliament, of the bastards, and of those who had

usurped the name of nobility, I had warned him. I had done so again as

soon as I saw the cadence and the harmony of the designs in progress. I

had pointed out to him their inevitable sequel; how easy it was to hinder

them at the commencement; how difficult after, especially for a person of

his character and disposition. But I was not the man for such work as

this. I was the oldest, the most attached, the freest spoken of all his

servitors; I had given him the best proofs of this in the most critical

times of his life, and in the midst of his universal abandonment; the

counsels I had offered him in these sad days he had always found for his

good; he was accustomed to repose in me the most complete confidence;

but, whatever opinion he might have of me, and of my truth and probity,

he was on his guard against what he called my warmth, and against the

love I had for my dignity, so attacked by the usurpations of the

bastards, the designs of the Parliament, and the modern fancies of a sham

nobility. As soon as I perceived his suspicions I told him so, and I

added that, content with having done my duty as citizen and as his

servitor, I would say no more on the subject. I kept my word. For more

than a year I had not of myself opened my mouth thereon. If he was

sometimes spoken to before me, and I could not keep quite silent without

being suspected of sulking or pique, I carelessly said something

indefinite, with as little meaning in it as possible, and calculated to

make us drop the subject.

Judge of my surprise, therefore, when as I was working as usual one

afternoon with the Regent, he interrupted me to speak with bitterness of

the Parliament. I replied with my accustomed coldness and pretended

negligence, and continued my business. He stopped me, and said that he

saw very well that I would not reply to him concerning the Parliament.

I admitted it was true, and added that he must long since have perceived

this. Pressed and pressed beyond measure, I coldly remarked that he

could not but remember what I had said to him of the Parliament both

before and after his accession to the regency, that other counsels had

prevailed over mine, and that finding my opinions were misinterpreted by

him, I had resolved to hold my tongue, and had done so. As the subject

was now reopened I reminded him of a prophecy I had uttered long before,

that he had missed the opportunity of governing the Parliament when he

might have done so with a frown, and that step by step he would allow

himself to be conducted by his easy-going disposition, until he found

himself on the very verge of the abyss; that if he wished to recover his

position he must begin at once to retrace his steps, or lose his footing

for ever!

Such strong words (from my mouth they had been rare of late), pronounced

with a slow, firm coldness, as though I were indifferent to the course he

might adopt, made him feel how little capable I believed him of vigorous

and sustained action, and what trifling trouble I took to make him adopt

my views. Dubois, Argenson, and Law had also spoken to him, urging him

to take strong measures against the Parliament; the effect of my speech

was therefore marvellous.

It was indeed high time to do something, as I have before remarked.

The Parliament, we found, after passing its last decree, had named a

commission to inquire into the financial edict; this commission was

working in the utmost secrecy; a number of witnesses had already been

examined, and preparations were quietly making to arrest Law some fine

morning, and hang him three hours after within the enclosure of the

Palais de justice.

Immediately this fact became known, the Duc de la Force and Fagon

(Councillor of State) went to the Regent--‘twas on the 19th of August,

1718--and spoke to him with such effect, that he ordered them to assemble

with Law that very day at my house in order to see what was to be done.

They came, in fact, and this was the first intimation I had that the

Regent had begun to feel the gravity of his position, and that he was

ready to do something. In this conference at my house the firmness of

Law, hitherto so great, was shaken so that tears escaped him. Arguments

did not satisfy us at first, because the question could only be decided

by force, and we could not rely upon that of the Regent. The safe-

conduct with which Law was supplied would not have stopped the Parliament

an instant. On every side we were embarrassed. Law, more dead than

alive, knew not what to say; much less what to do. His safety appeared

to us the most pressing matter to ensure. If he had been taken it would

have been all over with him before the ordinary machinery of negotiation

(delayed as it was likely to be by the weakness of the Regent) could have

been set in motion; certainly, before there would have been leisure to

think of better, or to send a regiment of guards to force open the Palais

de justice; a critical remedy at all times, and grievous to the last

degree, even when it succeeds; frightful, if instead of Law, only his

suspended corpse had been found!

I advised Law, therefore, to retire to the Palais Royal, and occupy the

chamber of Nancre, his friend, then away in Spain. Law breathed again at

this suggestion (approved by de la Force and Fagon), and put it in

execution the moment he left my house. He might have been kept in safety

at the Bank, but I thought the Palais Royal would be better: that his

retirement there would create more effect, and induce the Regent to hold

firm to his purpose, besides allowing his Royal Highness to see the

financier whenever he pleased.

CHAPTER XCI

This done I proposed, and the others approved my proposition, that a Bed

of Justice should be held as the only means left by which the abrogation

of the parliamentary decrees could be registered. But while our

arguments were moving, I stopped them all short by a reflection which

came into my mind. I represented to my guests that the Duc du Maine was

in secret the principal leader of the Parliament, and was closely allied

with Marechal de Villeroy; that both would oppose might and main the

assembling of a Bed of justice, so contrary to their views, to their

schemes, to their projects; that to hinder it they, as guardians of the

young King, would plead on his behalf, the heat, which was in fact

extreme, the fear of the crowd, of the fatigue, of the bad air; that they

would assume a pathetic tone in speaking of the King’s health, calculated

to embarrass the Regent; that if he persisted they would protest against

everything which might happen to His Majesty; declare, perhaps, that in

order not to share the blame, they would not accompany him; that the

King, prepared by them, would grow frightened, perhaps, and would not go

to the Parliament without them; that then all would be lost, and the

powerlessness of the Regent, so clearly manifested, might rapidly lead to

the most disastrous results.

These remarks stopped short our arguments, but I had not started

objections without being prepared with a remedy for them. I said, “Let

the Bed of justice be held at the Tuileries; let it be kept a profound

secret until the very morning it is to take place; and let those who are

to attend it be told so only a few hours before they are to assemble.

By these means no time will be allowed for anybody to object to the

proceeding, to plead the health of the King, the heat of the weather,

or to interfere with the arrangement of the troops which it will be

necessary to make.”

We stopped at this: Law went away, and I dictated to Fagon the full

details of my scheme, by which secrecy was to be ensured and all

obstacles provided against. We finished about nine o’clock in the

evening, and I counselled Fagon to carry what he had written to the Abbe

Dubois, who had just returned from England with new credit over the mind

of his master.

The next day I repaired to the Palais Royal about four o’clock. A moment

after La Vrilliere came and relieved me of the company of Grancey and

Broglio, two roues, whom I had found in the grand cabinet, in the cool,

familiarly, without wigs. When M. le Duc d’Orleans was free he led me

into the cabinet, behind the grand salon, by the Rue de Richelieu, and on

entering said he was at the crisis of his regency, and that everything

was needed in order to sustain him on this occasion. He added that he

was resolved to strike a heavy blow at the Parliament; that he much

approved my proposition respecting the Bed of justice at the Tuileries,

and that it would be held exactly as I had suggested.

I was delighted at his animation, and at the firmness he appeared to

possess, and after having well discussed with him all the inconveniences

of my plan, and their remedy, we came at last to a very important matter,

the mechanical means, so to speak, by which that plan was to be put in

force. There was one thing to be provided for, which may appear an

exceedingly insignificant matter, but which in truth was of no light

importance. When a Bed of justice is held, seats one above another must

be provided for those who take part in it. No room in the Tuileries

possessed such seats and how erect them without noise, without exciting

remarks, without causing inquiries and suspicions, which must inevitably

lead to the discovery and perhaps thereby to the failure of our project?

I had not forgotten this difficulty, however, and I said to the Regent

I would go in secret to Fontanieu, who controlled the crown furniture,

explain all to him, and arrange matters with him so that these seats

should be erected at the very last moment, in time for our purpose, but

too late to supply information that could be made use of by our enemies.

I hurried off accordingly, as soon as I could get away, in search of

Fontanieu.

I had already had some relations with him, for he had married his

daughter to the son of the sister of my brother-in-law, M. de Lauzun.

I had done him some little service, and had therefore every reason to

expect he would serve me on this occasion. Judge of my annoyance when

upon reaching his house I learned that he had gone almost to the other

end of the town, to the Marais, to conduct a suit at law, in which

Monsieur and Madame de Lauzun were concerned, respecting an estate at

Rondon they claimed!

The porter seeing me so vexed at being obliged to journey so far in

search of Fontanieu, said, that if I would go and speak to Madame

Fontanieu, he would see if his master was not still in the neighbourhood,

at a place he intended to visit before going to the Marais. I acted upon

this suggestion and went to Madame Fontanieu, whom I found alone. I was

forced to talk to her of the suit of Monsieur and Madame de Lauzun, which

I pretended was the business I came upon, and cruelly did I rack my

brains to say enough to keep up the conversation. When Fontanieu

arrived, for he was soon found, fortunately, I was thrown into another

embarrassment, for I had all the pains in the world to get away from

Madame Fontanieu, who, aided by her husband, begged me not to take the

trouble to descend but to discuss the subject where I was as she was as

well informed upon the case as he, I thought once or twice I should never

escape her. At last, however, I led away Fontanieu, by dint of

compliments to his wife, in which I expressed my unwillingness to weary

her with this affair.

When Fontanieu and I were alone down in his cabinet, I remained some

moments talking to him upon the same subject, to allow the valets who had

opened the doors for us time to retire. Then, to his great astonishment,

I went outside to see if there were no listeners, and carefully closed

the doors. After this I said to Fontanieu that I had not come concerning

the affair of Madame de Lauzun, but upon another very different, which

demanded all his industry, a secrecy proof against every trial, and which

M. le Duc d’Orleans had charged me to communicate to him; but that before

explaining myself he must know whether his Royal Highness could certainly

count upon him.

It is strange what an impression the wildest absurdities leave if they

are spread abroad with art. The first thing Fontanieu did was to tremble

violently all over and become whiter than his shirt. With difficulty he

stammered out a few words to the effect that he would do for M. le Duc

d’Orleans as much as his duty would permit him to do. I smiled, looking

fixedly at him, and this smile warned him apparently that he owed me an

excuse for not being quite at ease upon any affair that passed through my

hands; he directly made me one, at all events, and with the confusion of

a man who sees that his first view has dazzled the second, and who, full

of this first view, does not show anything, yet lets all be seen.

I reassured him as well as I could, and said that I had answered for him

to M. le Duc d’Orleans, and afterwards that a Bed of justice was wanted,

for the construction of which we had need of him.

Scarcely had I explained this, than the poor fellow began to take breath,

as though escaping from stifling oppression, or a painful operation for

the stone, and asked me if that was what I wanted?

He promised everything, so glad was he to be let off thus cheaply, and in

truth he kept to his word, both as to the secret and the work. He had

never seen a Bed of justice, and had not the slightest notion what it was

like. I sat down on his bureau, and drew out the design of one. I

dictated to him the explanations in the margin, because I did not wish

them to be in my handwriting. I talked more than an hour with him; I

disarranged his furniture, the better to show to him the order of the

assembly, and explained to him what was to be done, so that all might be

carried to the Tuileries and erected in a very, few moments. When I

found I had made everything sufficiently clear, and he had understood me,

I returned to the Palais Royal as though recollecting something, being

already in the streets, to deceive my people.

A servant awaited me at the top of the staircase, and the concierge of

the Palais Royal at the door of M. le Duc d’Orleans’ room, with orders to

beg me to write. It was the sacred hour of the roues and the supper,

at which all idea of business was banished. I wrote, therefore, to the

Regent in his winter cabinet what I had just done, not without some

little indignation that he could not give up his pleasure for an affair

of this importance. I was obliged to beg the concierge not to give my

note to M. le Duc d’Orleans unless he were in a state to read it and to

burn it afterwards.

Our preparations for the Bed of justice continued to be actively but

silently made during the next few days. In the course of the numberless

discussions which arose upon the subject, it was agreed, after much

opposition on my part, to strike a blow, not only at the Parliament, but

at M. du Maine, who had fomented its discontent. M. le Duc, who had been

admitted to our councils, and who was heart and soul against the

bastards, proposed that at the Bed of justice the education of the young

King should be taken out of the control of M. du Maine and placed in his

hands. He proposed also that the title of Prince of the Blood should be

taken from him, with all the privileges it conferred, and that he should

be reduced to the rank of a simple Duke and Peer, taking his place among

the rest according to the date of his erection; thus, at a bound, going

down to the bottom of the peerage!

Should these memoirs ever see the light, every one who reads them will be

able to judge how such a proposition as this harmonised with my personal

wishes. I had seen the bastards grow in rank and importance with an

indignation and disgust I could scarcely contain. I had seen favour

after favour heaped upon them by the late King, until he crowned all by

elevating them to the rank of Princes of the Blood in defiance of all

law, of all precedent, of all decency, if I must say the word. What I

felt at this accumulation of honours I have more than once expressed;

what I did to oppose such monstrous innovations has also been said. No

man could be more against M. du Maine than I, and yet I opposed this

proposition of M. le Duc because I thought one blow was enough at a time,

and that it might be dangerous to attempt the two at once. M. du Maine

had supporters, nay; he was at the head of a sort of party; strip him of

the important post he held, and what might not his rake, his

disappointment, and his wounded ambition lead him to attempt? Civil war,

perhaps, would be the result of his disgrace.

Again and again I urged these views, not only upon M. le Duc d’Orleans,

but upon M. le Duc. Nay, with this latter I had two long stolen

interviews in the Tuileries Gardens, where we spoke without constraint,

and exhausted all our arguments. But M. le Duc was not to be shaken, and

as I could do no more than I had done to move him, I was obliged at last

to give in. It was resolved, however, that disgrace should fall upon M.

du Maine alone; that his brother, the Comte de Toulouse, an account of

the devotion to the State he had ever exhibited, and his excellent

conduct since the death of the late King, should, when stripped of his

title like the other, receive it back again the moment after, in

acknowledgment of the services he had rendered to the Regent as

Councillor of State, and as an expression of personal good feeling

towards him, which his excellent qualities so justly merited.

I returned home from my last interview with M. le Duc, and went to mass

at the Jacobins, to which I entered from my garden. It was not without a

distracted mind. But I prayed to God sincerely and earnestly to guide my

steps, so that I might labour for His glory and the good of the State

without private ends. My prayer was heard, and in the sequel I had

nothing to reproach myself with. I followed the straight road without

turning to the right or to the left.

Fontanieu was waiting for me in my house as I returned home from mass,

and I was obliged to listen to his questions and to reply to them, as

though I had nothing on my mind. I arranged my chamber like a Bed of

Justice, I made him understand several things; connected with the

ceremonial that he had not under stood before, and that it was essential

he should in no way omit. Thus everything went on satisfactorily, and I

began to count the hours, by day as well as by night, until the great day

was to arrive on which the arrogant pride of the Parliament was to

receive a check, and the false plumage which adorned the bastards was to

be plucked from them.

In the midst of the sweet joy that I felt, no bitterness entered. I was

satisfied with the part I had played in this affair, satisfied that I had

acted sincerely, honestly, that I had not allowed my own private motives

to sway me; that in the interests of the State, as opposed to my own

interests, I had done all in my power to save the Duc du Maine. And yet

I did not dare to give myself up to the rosy thoughts suggested by the

great event, now so rapidly approaching. I toyed with them instead of

allowing myself to embrace them. I shrunk from them as it were like a

cold lover who fears the too ardent caresses of his mistress. I could

not believe that the supreme happiness I had so long pined for was at

last so near. Might not M. le Duc d’Orleans falter at the last moment?

Might not all our preparations, so carefully conducted, so cleverly

planned, weigh upon his feebleness until they fell to the ground? It was

not improbable. He was often firm in promises. How often was he firm in

carrying them out? All these questions, all these restless doubts--

natural as it appears to me under the circumstances--winged their way

through my mind, and kept me excited and feverish as though life and

death were hanging on one thread.

In the midst of my reflections, a messenger from M. le Duc d’Orleans,

Millain by name, arrived at my house. It was on the afternoon of

Thursday, the 25th of August, 1718. His message was simple. M. le Duc

d’Orleans was in the same mood as ever, and I was to join him at the

Palais Royal, according to previous agreement, at eight o’clock in the

evening. The Bed of justice was to be held on the morrow.

Never was kiss given to a beautiful mistress sweeter than that which I

imprinted upon the fat old face of this charming messenger! A close

embrace, eagerly repeated, was my first reply, followed afterwards by an

overflow of feeling for M. le Duc, and for Millain even, who had worthily

served in this great undertaking.

The rest of the day I passed at home with the Abbe Dubois, Fagon, and the

Duc de la Force, one after the other finishing up our work. We provided

against everything: If the Parliament refused to come to the Tuileries,

its interdiction was determined on: if any of the members attempted to

leave Paris they were to be arrested; troops were to be assembled in

order to carry out the Regent’s orders; we left no accident without its

remedy.

The Abbe Dubois arranged a little code of signals, such as crossing the

legs, shaking a handkerchief, or other simple gestures, to be given the

first thing in the morning to the officers of the body-guards chosen to

be in attendance in the room where the Bed of Justice was to be held.

They were to fix their eyes upon the Regent, and when he made any of the

above signals, immediately to act upon it according to their written

instructions. The Abbe Dubois also drew out a sort of programme for M.

le Duc d’Orleans, of the different orders he was to give during the

night, fixing the hour for each, so that they might not arrive a minute

too soon or a minute too late, and secrecy thus be maintained to the very

latest moment.

Towards eight o’clock in the evening I went to they Palais Royal. I was

horror-struck to find M. le Duc d’Orleans in bed with fever, as he said;

I felt his pulse. Fever, he had, sure enough; perhaps from excitement

caused by the business in hand. I said to him it was only fatigue of

body and mind, of which he would be quit in twenty-four hours; he, on his

side, protested that whatever it might be, he would hold the Bed of

justice on the morrow. M. le Duc, who had just entered, was at his

pillow; the chamber lighted by a single wax candle. We sat down, M. le

Duc and I, and passed in review the orders given and to give, not without

much apprehension on account of this fever, come so strangely out of

season to the healthiest man in the world, and who had never had it

before.

I exhorted the Regent to take as much repose as he could, so that he

might be fully able to execute the great work of the morrow, the safety

of the Regency itself being at stake. After this I felt his pulse again,

not without fear. I assured him, however, his illness would be nothing;

without, it is true, being too sure of it myself. I took my leave about

ten o’clock, and went out of the room with Millain. When I found myself

alone with him in the cabinet, through which we passed, I embraced him

with an extreme pleasure. We had entered by the backstairs; we descended

by the same, so as not to be observed. It was dark, so that on both

occasions we were obliged to grope our way. Upon arriving at the bottom

I could not refrain from again embracing Millain, so great was my

pleasure, and we separated each to his home.

The arrangements respecting the troops and for summoning the Parliament,

etc., were all carried out to the letter during the night and early

morning. At the hours agreed upon M. le Duc d’Orleans gave the various

orders. About four o’clock in the morning the Duc du Maine, as colonel-

general of the Swiss guards, was aroused. He had not been in bed above

an hour, having just returned from a fete given at the arsenal by Madame

du Maine. He was doubtless much astonished, but contained himself, hid

his fear, and sent at once to instruct his companies of Swiss guards of

the orders they were to execute. I don’t think he slept very well after

this, uncertain as he must have been what was going to happen. But I

never knew what he or Madame du Maine did after being thus rudely

disturbed.

Towards five o’clock in the morning drums began to be heard throughout

the town, and soon soldiers were seen in movement. At six o’clock a

message was sent to the Parliament requesting it to attend at the

Tuileries. The reply was that the request should be obeyed. The members

thereupon debated whether they should go to the Tuileries in coaches or

on foot. The last mode was adopted as being the most ordinary, and in

the hope of stirring the people and arriving at the Tuileries with a

yelling crowd. What happened will be related in its place.

At the same time, horsemen went to all the Peers and officers of the

Crown, and to all the chevaliers of the order, the governors and

lieutenant-governors of the provinces (who were to accompany the King),

informing them of the Bed of Justice. The Comte de Toulouse had been to

supper at the house of M. de Nevers, near Saint-Denis, and did not return

until late into the night. The French and Swiss guards were under arms

in various quarters; the watch, the light horse, and the two companies of

musketeers all ready in their barracks; the usual guard at the Tuileries.

If I had slept but little during the last eight days, I slept still less

that night, so near to the most considerable events. I rose before six

o’clock, and shortly after received my summons to the Bed of justice, on

the back of which was a note that I was not to be awakened, a piece of

politeness due to the knowledge of the bearer, who was aware that this

summons would teach me nothing I did not know. All the others had been

awakened, surprised thereby to an extent that may be imagined.

Towards eight o’clock in the morning a messenger from M. le Duc d’Orleans

came to remind me of the Regency Council at eight o’clock, and to attend

it in my mantle. I dressed myself in black, because I had only that suit

with a mantle, and another, a magnificent one in cloth of gold, which I

did not wish to wear lest it should cause the remark to be made, though

much out of season, that I wished to insult the Parliament and M. du

Maine. I took two gentlemen with me in my coach, and I went in order to

witness all that was to take place. I was at the same time full of fear,

hope, joy, reflection, and mistrust of M. le Duc d’Orleans’ weakness, and

all that might result from it. I was also firmly resolved to do my best,

whatever might happen, but without appearing to know anything, and

without eagerness, and I resolved to show presence of mind, attention,

circumspection, modesty, and much moderation.

Upon leaving my house I went to Valincourt, who lived behind the hotel of

the Comte de Toulouse. He was a very honourable man, of much intellect,

moving among the best company, secretary-general of the navy, devoted to

the Comte de Toulouse ever since his early youth, and possessing all his

confidence. I did not wish to leave the Comte de Toulouse in any

personal fear, or expose him to be led away by his brother. I sent

therefore for Valincourt, whom I knew intimately, to come and speak to

me. He came half-dressed, terrified at the rumours flying over the town,

and eagerly asked me what they all meant. I drew him close to me and

said, “Listen attentively to me, and lose not a word. Go immediately to

M. le Comte de Toulouse, tell him he may trust in my word, tell him to be

discreet, and that things are about to happen to others which may

displease him, but that not a hair of his head shall be touched. I hope

he will not have a moment’s uneasiness. Go! and lose not an instant.”

Valincourt held me in a tight embrace. “Ah, Monsieur,” said he, “we

foresaw that at last there would be a storm. It is well merited, but not

by M. le Comte, who will be eternally obliged to you.” And, he went

immediately with my message to the Comte de Toulouse, who never forgot

that I saved him from the fall of his brother.

CHAPTER XCII

Arrived at the grand court of the Tuileries about eight o’clock without

having remarked anything extraordinary on the way. The coaches of the

Duc de Noailles, of Marechal de Villars, of Marechal d’Huxelles, and of

some others were already there. I ascended without finding many people

about, and directed the two doors of the Salle des Gardes, which were

closed, to be opened. The Bed of justice was prepared in the grand ante-

chamber, where the King was accustomed to eat. I stopped a short time to

see if everything was in proper order, and felicitated Fontanieu in a low

voice. He said to me in the same manner that he had arrived at the

Tuileries with his workmen and materials at six o’clock in the morning;

that everything was so well constructed and put up that the King had not

heard a sound; that his chief valet de chambre, having left the room for

some commission about seven o’clock in the morning, had been much

astonished upon seeing this apparatus; that the Marechal de Villeroy had

only heard of it through him, and that the seats had been erected with

such little noise that nobody had heard anything. After having well

examined everything with my eyes I advanced to the throne, then being

finished; wishing to enter the second ante-chamber, some servants came to

me, saying that I could not go in, all being locked up. I asked where I

was to await the assembling of the Council, and was admitted to a room

upstairs, where I found a good number of people already congregated.

After chatting some time with the Keeper of the Seals, the arrival of M.

le Duc d’Orleans was announced. We finished what we had to say, and went

downstairs separately, not wishing to be seen together.

The Council was held in a room which ever since the very hot weather the

King had slept in. The hangings of his bed, and of the Marechal de

Villeroy’s were drawn back. The Council table was placed at the foot of

one of the beds. Upon entering the adjoining chamber I found many people

whom the first rumours of such an unexpected occurrence had no doubt led

there, and among the rest some of the Council. M. le Duc d’Orleans was

in the midst of a crowd at the end of the room, and, as I afterwards

learned, had just seen the Duc du Maine without speaking to him, or being

spoken to.

After a passing glance upon this crowd I entered the Council chamber. I

found scattered there the majority of those who composed the Council with

serious and troubled looks, which increased my seriousness. Scarcely

anybody spoke; and each, standing or seated here and there, kept himself

in his place. The better to examine all, I joined nobody. A moment

after M. le Duc d’Orleans entered with a gay, easy, untroubled air, and

looked smilingly upon the company. I considered this of good augury.

Immediately afterwards I asked him his news. He replied aloud that he

was tolerably well; then approaching my ear, added that, except when

aroused to give his orders, he had slept very well, and that he was

determined to hold firm. This infinitely pleased me, for it seemed to me

by his manner that he was in earnest, and I briefly exhorted him to

remain so.

Came, afterwards, M. le Duc, who pretty soon approached me, and asked if

I augured well from the Regent, and if he would remain firm. M. le Duc

had an air of exceeding gaiety, which was perceptible to those behind the

scenes. The Duc de Noailles devoured everything with his eyes, which

sparkled with anger because he had not been initiated into the secret of

this great day.

In due time M. du Maine appeared in his mantle, entering by the King’s

little door. Never before had he made so many or such profound

reverences as he did now--though he was not usually very stingy of them--

then standing alone, resting upon his stick near the Council table, he

looked around at everybody. Then and there, being in front of him, with

the table between us, I made him the most smiling bow I had ever given

him, and did it with extreme volupty. He repaid me in the same coin, and

continued to fix his eyes upon everybody in turn; his face agitated, and

nearly always speaking to himself.

A few minutes after M. le Duc came to me, begging me to exhort M. le Duc

d’Orleans to firmness: then the Keeper of the Seals came forth for the

same purpose. M. le Duc d’Orleans himself approached me to say something

a moment afterwards, and he had no sooner quitted my side than M. le Duc,

impatient and troubled, came to know in what frame of mind was the

Regent. I told him good in a monosyllable, and sent him away.

I know not if these movements, upon which all eyes were fixed, began to

frighten the Duc du Maine, but no sooner had M. le Duc joined the Regent,

after quitting me, than the Duc du Maine went to speak to the Marechal de

Villeroy and to D’Effiat, both seated at the end of the room towards the

King’s little door, their backs to the wall. They did not rise for the

Duc du Maine, who remained standing opposite, and quite near them, all

three holding long discourses, like people who deliberate with

embarrassment and surprise, as it appeared to me by the faces of the two

I saw, and which I tried not to lose sight of.

During this time M. le Duc d’Orleans and M. le Duc spoke to each other

near the window and the ordinary entrance door; the Keeper of the Seals,

who was near, joined them. At this moment M. le Duc turned round a

little, which gave me the opportunity to make signs to him of the other

conference, which he immediately saw. I was alone, near the Council

table, very attentive to everything, and the others scattered about began

to become more so. A little while after the Duc du Maine placed himself

where he had been previously: the two he quitted remained as before.

M. du Maine was thus again in front of me, the table between us: I

observed that he had a bewildered look, and that he spoke to himself more

than ever.

The Comte de Toulouse arrived as the Regent had just quitted the two

persons with whom he had been talking. The Comte de Toulouse was in his

mantle, and saluted the company with a grave and meditative manner,

neither accosting nor accosted: M. le Duc d’Orleans found himself in

front of him and turned towards me, although at some distance, as though

to testify his trouble. I bent my head a little while looking fixedly at

him, as though to say, “Well, what then?”

A short time afterwards the Comte de Toulouse had a conversation with his

brother, both speaking with agitation and without appearing to agree very

well. Then the Count approached M. le Duc d’Orleans, who was talking

again to M. le Duc, and they spoke at some length to each other. As

their faces were towards the wall, nothing but their backs could be seen,

no emotion and scarcely a gesture was visible.

The Duc du Maine had remained where he had spoken to his brother. He

seemed half dead, looked askance upon the company with wandering eyes,

and the troubled agitated manner of a criminal, or a man condemned to

death. Shortly afterwards he became pale as a corpse, and appeared to me

to have been taken ill.

He crawled to the end of the table, during which the Comte de Toulouse

came and said a word to the Regent, and began to walk out of the room.

All these movements took place in a trice. The Regent, who was near the

King’s armchair, said aloud, “Now, gentlemen, let us take our places.”

Each approached to do so, and as I looked behind mine I saw the two

brothers at the door as though about to leave the room. I leaped, so to

speak, between the King’s armchair and M. le Duc d’Orleans, and whispered

in the Regent’s ear so as not to be heard by the Prince de Conti:

“Monsieur, look at them. They are going.”

“I know it,” he replied tranquilly.

“Yes,” I exclaimed with animation, “but do you know what they will do

when they are outside.”

“Nothing at all,” said he: “the Comte de Toulouse has asked me for

permission to go out with his brother; he has assured me that they will

be discreet.”

“And if they are not?” I asked.

“They will be. But if they are not, they will be well looked after.”

“But if they commit some absurdity, or leave Paris?”

“They will be arrested. Orders have been given, and I will answer for

their execution.”

Therefore, more tranquil, I sat down in my place. Scarcely had I got

there than the Regent called me back, and said that since they had left

the room, he should like to tell the Council what was going to be done

with respect to them. I replied that the only objection to this, their

presence, being now removed--I thought it would be wrong not to do so.

He asked M. le Duc in a whisper, across the table, afterwards called to

the Keeper of the Seals; both agreed, and then we really seated

ourselves.

These movements had augmented the trouble and curiosity of every one.

The eyes of all, occupied with the Regent, had been removed from the

door, so that the absence of the bastards was by no means generally

remarked. As soon as it was perceived, everybody looked inquiringly

around, and remained standing in expectation. I sat down in the seat of

the Comte de Toulouse. The Duc de Guiche, who sat on the other side of

me, left a seat between us, and still waited for the bastards. He told

me to approach nearer to him, saying I had mistaken my place. I replied

not a word, looking on at the company, which was a sight to see. At the

second or third summons, I replied that he, on the contrary, must

approach me.

“And M. le Comte de Toulouse?” replied he.

“Approach,” said I, and seeing him motionless with astonishment, looking

towards the Duc du Maine’s seat, which had been taken by the Keeper of

the Seals, I pulled him by his coat (I was seated), saying to him, “Come

here and sit down.”

I pulled him so hard that he seated himself near me without understanding

aught.

“But what is the meaning of all this?” he demanded; “where are these

gentlemen?”

“I don’t know,” replied I, impatiently; “but they are not here.”

At the same time, the Duc de Noailles, who sat next to the Duc de Guiche,

and who, enraged at counting for nothing in preparations for such a great

day, had apparently divined that I was in the plot, vanquished by his

curiosity, stretched over the table in front of the Duc de Guiche, and

said to me:

“In the name of Heaven, M. le Duc, do me the favour to say what all this

means?”

I was at daggers-drawn with him, as I have explained, and had no mercy

for him. I turned, therefore, towards him with a cold and disdainful

air, and, after having heard him out, and looked at him, I turned away

again. That was all my reply. The Duc de Guiche pressed me to say

something, even if it was only that I knew all. I denied it, and yet

each seated himself slowly, because intent only upon looking around, and

divining what all this could mean, and because it was a long time before

any one could comprehend that we must proceed to business without the

bastards, although nobody opened his mouth.

When everybody was in his place M. le Duc d’Orleans after having far a

moment looked all around, every eye fixed upon him, said that he had

assembled this Regency Council to hear read the resolutions adopted at

the last; that he had come to the conclusion that there was no other

means of obtaining the registration of the finance edict recently passed

than that of holding a Bed of justice; that the heat rendering it

unadvisable to jeopardise the King’s health in the midst of the crowd of

the Palais de justice, he had thought it best to follow the example of

the late King, who had sometimes sent for the Parliament to the

Tuileries; that, as it had become necessary to hold this Bed of justice,

he had thought it right to profit by the occasion, and register the

‘lettres de provision’ of the Keeper of the Seals at the commencement of

the sitting; and he ordered the Keeper of the Seals to read them.

During this reading, which had no other importance than to seize an

occasion of forcing the Parliament to recognize the Keeper of the Seals,

whose person and whose commission they hated, I occupied myself in

examining the faces.

I saw M. le Duc d’Orleans with an air of authority and of attention, so

new that I was struck with it. M. le Duc, gay and brilliant, appeared

quite at his ease, and confident. The Prince de Conti, astonished,

absent, meditative, seemed to see nothing and to take part in nothing.

The Keeper of the Seals, grave and pensive, appeared to have too many

things in his head; nevertheless, with bag, wax, and seals near him, he

looked very decided and very firm. The Duc de la Force hung his head,

but examined on the sly the faces of us all. Marechal Villeroy and

Marechal de Villars spoke to each other now and then; both had irritated

eyes and long faces. Nobody was more composed than the Marechal de

Tallard; but he could not hide an internal agitation which often peeped

out. The Marechal d’Estrees had a stupefied air, as though he saw

nothing but a mist before him. The Marechal de Besons, enveloped more

than ordinarily in his big wig, appeared deeply meditative, his look cast

down and angry. Pelletier, very buoyant, simple, curious, looking at

everything. Torcy, three times more starched than usual, seemed to look

at everything by stealth. Effiat, meddlesome, piqued, outraged, ready to

boil over, fuming at everybody, his look haggard, as it passed

precipitously, and by fits and starts, from side to side. Those on my

side I could not well examine; I saw them only by moments as they changed

their postures or I mine; and then not well or for long. I have already

spoken of the astonishment of the Duc de Guiche, and of the vexation and

curiosity of the Duc de Noailles. D’Antin, usually of such easy

carriage, appeared to me as though in fetters, and quite scared. The

Marechal d’Huxelles tried to put a good face on the matter, but could not

hide the despair which pierced him. Old Troyes, all abroad, showed

nothing but surprise and embarrassment, and did not appear to know where

he was.

From the first moment of this reading and the departure of the bastards,

everybody saw that something was in preparation against them. What that

something was to be, kept every mind in suspense. A Bed of justice, too,

prepared in secret, ready as soon as announced, indicated a strong

resolution taken against the Parliament, and indicated also so much

firmness and measure in a Prince, usually supposed to be entirely

incapable of any, that every one was at sea. All, according as they were

allied to the Parliament or to the bastards, seemed to wait in fear what

was to be proposed. Many others appeared deeply wounded because the

Regent had not admitted them behind the scenes, and because they were

compelled to share the common surprise. Never were faces so universally

elongated; never was embarrassment more general or more marked. In these

first moments of trouble I fancy few people lent an ear to the letters

the Keeper of the Seals was reading. When they were finished, M. le Duc

d’Orleans said he did not think it was worth while to take the votes one

by one, either upon the contents of these letters or their registration;

but that all would be in favour of commencing the Bed of justice at once.

After a short but marked pause, the Regent developed, in few words, the

reasons which had induced the Council at its last sitting, to abrogate

the decree of the Parliament. He added, that judging by the conduct of

that assembly, it would have been to jeopardise anew the King’s

authority, to send for registration this act of abrogation to the

Parliament, which would assuredly have given in public a proof of formal

disobedience, in refusing to register; that there being no other remedy

than a Bed of justice, he had thought it best to assemble one, but in

secret, so as not to give time or opportunity to the ill-disposed to

prepare for disobedience; that he believed, with the Keeper of the Seals,

the frequency and the manner of the parliamentary remonstrances were such

that the Parliament must be made to keep within the limits of its duty,

which, long since, it seemed to have lost sight of; that the Keeper of

the Seals would now read to the Council the act of abrogation, and the

rules that were to be observed in future. Then, looking at the Keeper of

the Seals, “Monsieur,” said he, “you will explain this better than I.

Have the goodness to do so before reading the decree.”

The Keeper of the Seals then spoke, and paraphrased what his Royal

Highness had said more briefly; he explained in what manner the

Parliament had the right to remonstrate, showed the distinction between

its power and that of the Crown; the incompetence of the tribunals in all

matters of state and finance; and the necessity of repressing the

remonstrances of Parliament by passing a code (that was the term used),

which was to serve as their inviolable guide. All this explained without

lengthiness, with grace and clearness, he began to read the decree, as it

has since been printed and circulated everywhere, some trifling

alteration excepted.

The reading finished, the Regent, contrary to his custom, showed his

opinion by the praises he gave to this document: and then, assuming the

Regent’s tone and air he had never before put on, and which completed the

astonishment of the company, he added, “To-day, gentlemen, I shall

deviate from the usual rule in taking your votes, and I think it will be

well to do so during all this Council.”

Then after a slight glance upon both sides of the table, during which you

might have heard a worm crawl, he turned towards M. le Duc and asked him

his opinion. M. le Duc declared for the decree, alleging several short

but strong reasons. The Prince de Conti spoke in the same sense. I

spoke after, for the Keeper of the Seals had done so directly his reading

was finished. My opinion was given in more general terms so as not to

fall too heavily upon the Parliament, or to show that I arrogated to

myself the right to support his Royal Highness in the same manner as a

prince of the blood. The Duc de la Force was longer. All spoke, but the

majority said but little, and some allowed their vexation to be seen, but

did not dare to oppose, feeling that it would be of no use. Dejection

was painted upon their faces; it was evident this affair, of the

Parliament was not what they expected or wished. Tallard was the only

one whose face did not betray him; but the suffocated monosyllable of the

Marechal d’Huxelles tore off the rest of the mask. The Duc de Noailles

could scarcely contain himself, and spoke more than he wished, with

anguish worthy of Fresnes. M. le Duc d’Orleans spoke last, and with

unusual force; then made a pause, piercing all the company with his eyes.

At this moment the Marechal de Villeroy, full of his own thoughts,

muttered between his teeth, “But will the Parliament come?” This was

gently taken up. M. le Duc d’Orleans replied that he did not doubt it;

and immediately afterwards, that it would be as well to know when they

set out. The Keeper of the Seals said he should be informed. M. le Duc

d’Orleans replied that the door-keepers must be told. Thereupon up jumps

M. de Troyes.

I was seized with such a sudden fear lest he should go and chatter at the

door with some one that I jumped up also, and got the start of him. As I

returned, D’Antin, who had turned round to lay wait for me, begged me for

mercy’s sake to tell him what all this meant. I sped on saying that I

knew nothing. “Tell that to others! Ho, ho!” replied he. When he had

resumed his seat, M. le Duc d’Orleans said something, I don’t know what,

M. de Troyes still standing, I also. In passing La Vrilliere, I asked

him to go to the door every time anything was wanted, for fear of the

babbling of M. de Troyes; adding, that distant as I was from the door,

going there looked too peculiar. La Vrilliere did as I begged him all

the rest of the sitting.

As I was returning to my place, D’Antin, still in ambush, begged me in

the name of heaven, his hands joined, to tell him something. I kept

firm, however, saying, “You will see.” The Duc de Guiche pressed me as

resolutely, even saying, it was evident I was in the plot. I remained

deaf.

These little movements over, M. le Duc d’Orleans, rising a little in his

seat, said to the company, in a tone more firm, and more like that of a

master than before, that there was another matter now to attend to, much

more important than the one just heard. This prelude increased the

general astonishment, and rendered everybody motionless. After a moment

of silence the Regent said, that the peers had had for some time good

grounds of complaint against certain persons, who by unaccustomed favour,

had been allowed to assume rank and dignity to which their birth did not

entitle them; that it was time this irregularity should be stopped short,

and that with this view, an instrument had been drawn up, which the

Keeper of the Seals would read to them.

A profound silence followed this discourse, so unexpected, and which

began to explain the absence of the bastards. Upon many visages a sombre

hue was painted. As for me I had enough to do to compose my own visage,

upon which all eyes successively passed; I had put upon it an extra coat

of gravity and of modesty; I steered my eyes with care, and only looked

horizontally at most, not an inch higher. As soon as the Regent opened

his mouth on this business, M. le Duc cast upon me a triumphant look

which almost routed my seriousness, and which warned me to increase it,

and no longer expose myself to meet his glance. Contained in this

manner, attentive in devouring the aspect of all, alive to everything and

to myself, motionless, glued to my chair, all my body fixed, penetrated

with the most acute and most sensible pleasure that joy could impart,

with the most charming anxiety, with an enjoyment, so perseveringly and

so immoderately hoped for, I sweated with agony at the captivity of my

transport, and this agony was of a voluptuousness such as I had never

felt before, such as I have never felt since. How inferior are the

pleasures of the senses to those of the mind! and how true it is that the

balance-weight of misfortunes, is the good fortune that finishes them!

A moment after the Regent had ceased speaking, he told the Keeper of the

Seals to read the declaration. During the reading, which was more than

music to my ears, my attention was again fixed on the company. I saw by

the alteration of the faces what an immense effect this document, which

embodied the resolutions I have already explained, produced upon some of

our friends. The whole of the reading was listened to with the utmost

attention, and the utmost emotion.

When it was finished, M. le Duc d’Orleans said he was very sorry for this

necessity, but that justice must be done to the peers as well as to the

princes of the blood: then turning to the Keeper of the Seals asked him

for his opinion.

This latter spoke briefly and well; but was like a dog running over hot

ashes. He declared for the declaration. His Royal Highness then called

upon M. le Duc for his opinion. It was short, but nervous, and polite to

the peers. M. le Prince de Conti the same. Then the Regent asked me my

opinion. I made, contrary to my custom, a profound inclination, but

without rising, and said, that having the honour to find myself the

eldest of the peers of the Council, I offered to his Royal Highness my

very humble thanks and those of all the peers of France, for the justice

so ardently desired, and touching so closely our dignity and our persons,

that he had resolved to render us; that I begged him to be persuaded of

our gratitude, and to count upon our utmost attachment to his person for

an act of equity so longed for, and so complete; that in this sincere

expression of our sentiments consisted all our opinion, because, being

pleaders, we could not be judges also. I terminated these few words with

a profound inclination, without rising, imitated by the Duc de la Force

at the same moment; all the rest of the Council briefly gave their

opinions, approving what the majority of them evidently did not approve

at all.

I had tried to modulate my voice, so that it should be just heard and no

more, preferring to be indistinct rather than speak too loudly; and

confined all my person to express as much as possible, gravity, modesty,

and simple gratitude. M. le Duc maliciously made signs to me in smiling,

that I had spoken well. But I kept my seriousness, and turned round to

examine all the rest.

It would be impossible to describe the aspect of the company. Nothing

was seen but people, oppressed with surprise that overwhelmed them,

meditative, agitated, some irritated, some but ill at ease, like La Force

and Guiche, who freely admitted so to me.

The opinions taken almost as soon as demanded, M. le Duc d’Orleans said,

“Gentlemen, it is finished, then justice is done, and the rights of

Messieurs the Peers are in safety. I have now an act of grace to propose

to you, and I do so with all the more confidence, because I have taken

care to consult the parties interested, who support me; and because, I

have drawn up the document in a manner to wound no one. What I am going

to explain to you, regards the Comte de Toulouse alone.

“Nobody is ignorant how he has disapproved all that has been done in

favour of him and his brother, and that he has sustained it since the

regency only out of respect for the wishes of the late King. Everybody

knows also his virtue, his merit, his application, his probity, his

disinterestedness. Nevertheless, I could not avoid including him in the

declaration you have just heard. Justice furnishes no exception in his

favour, and the rights of the Peers must be assured. Now that they are

no longer attacked, I have thought fitly to render to merit what from

equity I have taken from birth; and to make an exception of M. le Comte

de Toulouse, which (while confirming the rule), will leave him in full

possession of all the honours he enjoys to the exclusion of every other.

Those honours are not to pass to his children, should he marry and have

any, or their restitution be considered as a precedent to be made use of

at any future time.

“I have the pleasure to announce that the Princes of the Blood consent to

this, and that such of the Peers to whom I have been able to explain

myself, share my sentiments. I doubt not that the esteem he has acquired

here will render this proposition agreeable to you.” And then turning to

the Keeper of the Seals, “Monsieur, will you read the declaration?”

It was read at once.

I had, during the discourse of his Royal Highness, thrown all my

attention into an examination of the impression it made upon the

assembly. The astonishment it caused was general; it was such, that to

judge of those addressed, it seemed that they understood nothing; and

they did not recover themselves during all the reading. I inwardly

rejoiced at success so pleasingly demonstrated and did not receive too

well the Duc de Guiche, who testified to me his disapprobation. Villeroy

confounded, Villars raging, Effiat rolling his eyes, Estrees beside

himself with surprise, were the most marked. Tallard, with his head

stretched forward, sucked in, so to speak, all the Regent’s words as they

were proffered, and those of the declaration, as the Keeper of the Seals

read them. Noailles, inwardly distracted, could not hide his

distraction; Huxelles, entirely occupied in smoothing himself, forgot to

frown. I divided my attention between the declaration and these persons.

The document read, M. le Duc d’Orleans praised it in two words, and

called upon the Keeper of the Seals to give his opinion. He did so

briefly, in favour of the Comte de Toulouse. M. le Duc the same; M. le

Prince de Conti the same. After him, I testified to his Royal Highness

my joy at seeing him conciliate the justice and the safety of the peers

with the unheard-of favour he had just rendered to the virtue of M. le

Comte de Toulouse, who merited it by his moderation, his truthfulness,

his attachment to the State; thus the more he had recognised the

injustice of his elevation to the rank to which he was raised, the more

he had rendered himself worthy of it, and the more it was advantageous to

the peers to yield to merit, (when this exception was confined solely to

his person, with formal and legal precautions, so abundantly supplied by

the declaration) and voluntarily contribute thus to an elevation without

example, (so much the more flattering because its only foundation was

virtue), so as to incite that virtue more and more to the service and

utility of the state; that I declared therefore with joy for the

declaration, and did not fear to add the very humble thanks of the peers,

since I had the honour to be the oldest present.

As I closed my mouth I cast my eyes in front of some, and plainly saw

that my applause did not please, and, perhaps, my thanks still less. The

others gave their opinion with heavy heart, as it were, to so terrible a

blow, some few muttered I know not what between their teeth, but the

thunderbolt upon the Duc du Maine’s cabal was more and more felt, and as

reflection succeeded to the first feeling of surprise, so a bitter and

sharp grief manifested itself upon their faces in so marked a manner,

that it was easy to see it had become high time to strike.

All opinions having been expressed, M. le Duc cast a brilliant leer at

me, and prepared to speak; but the Keeper of the Seals, who, from his

side of the table did not see this movement, wishing also to say

something, M. le Duc d’Orleans intimated to him that M. le Duc had the

start of him. Raising himself majestically from his seat, the Regent

then said: “Gentlemen, M. le Duc has a proposition to make to you. I

have found it just and reasonable; I doubt not, you will find it so too.”

Then turning towards M. le Duc, he added, “Monsieur, will you explain

it?”

The movement these few words made among the company is inexpressible.

‘Twas as though I saw before me people deprived of all power, and

surprised by a new assembly rising up from the midst of them in an asylum

they had breathlessly reached.

“Monsieur,” said M. le Duc, addressing himself to the Regent, as usual;

“since you have rendered justice to the Dukes, I think I am justified in

asking for it myself. The deceased King gave the education of his

Majesty to M. le Duc du Maine. I was a minor then, and according to the

idea of the deceased King, M. du Maine was prince of the blood, capable

of succeeding to the crown. Now I am of age, and not only M. du Maine is

no longer prince of the blood, but he is reduced to the rank of his

peerage. M. le Marechal de Villeroy is now his senior, and precedes him

everywhere; M. le Marechal can therefore no longer remain governor of the

King, under the superintendence of M. du Maine. I ask you, then, for M.

du Maine’s post, that I think my age, my rank, my attachment to the King

and the State, qualify me for. I hope,” he added, turning towards his

left, “that I shall profit by the lessons of M. le Marechal de Villeroy,

acquit myself of my duties with distinction, and merit his friendship.”

At this discourse the Marechal de Villeroy almost slipped off his chair.

As soon, at least, as he heard the Words, “Superintendence of the King’s

education,” he rested his forehead upon his stick, and remained several

moments in that posture. He appeared even to understand nothing of the

rest of the speech. Villars and D’Effiat bent their backs like people

who had received the last blow. I could see nobody on my own side except

the Duc de Guiche, who approved through all his prodigious astonishment.

Estrees became master of himself the first, shook himself, brightened up,

and looked at the company like a man who returns from the other world.

As soon as M. le Duc had finished, M. le Duc d’Orleans reviewed all the

company with his eyes, and then said, that the request of M. le Duc was

just; that he did not think it could be refused; that M. le Marechal de

Villeroy could not be allowed to remain under a person whom he preceded

in rank; that the superintendence of the King’s education could not be

more worthily filled than by M. le Duc; and that he was persuaded all

would be of one voice in this matter. Immediately afterwards, he asked

M. le Prince de Conti to give his opinion, who did so in two words; then

he asked the Keeper of the Seals, whose reply was equally brief; then he

asked me.

I simply said, looking at M. le Duc, that I was for the change with all

my heart. The rest, M. de la Force excepted (who said a single word),

voted without speaking, simply bowing; the Marshals and D’Effiat scarcely

moved their eyes, and those of Villars glistened with fury.

The opinions taken, the Regent turning towards M. le Duc, said,

“Monsieur, I think you would like to read what you intend to say to the

King at the Bed of Justice.”

Therefore M. le Duc read it as it has been printed. Some moments of sad

and profound silence succeeded this reading, during which the Marechal de

Villeroy, pale and agitated, muttered to himself. At last, like a man

who has made up his mind, he turned with bended head, expiring eyes, and

feeble voice, towards the Regent, and said, “I will simply say these two

words; here are all the dispositions of the late king overturned, I

cannot see it without grief. M. du Maine is very unfortunate.”

“Monsieur,” replied the Regent, in a loud and animated tone, “M. du Maine

is my brother-in-law, but I prefer an open enemy to a hidden one.”

At this great declaration several lowered their heads. The Marechal de

Villeroy nearly swooned; sighs began to make themselves heard near me, as

though by stealth; everybody felt by this that the scabbard was thrown

away.

The Keeper of the Seals, to make a diversion; proposed to read the speech

he had prepared to serve as preface to the decree to be read at the Bed

of justice, abrogating the Parliament decrees; as he was finishing it,

some one entered to say he was asked for at the door.

He went out, returning immediately afterwards, not to his place, but to

M. le Duc d’Orleans, whom he took into a window, meditative silence

reigning around. The Regent having returned back to his place, said to

the company, he had received information that the Chief-President of the

Parliament, notwithstanding the reply previously made, had proposed that

the Parliament should not go to the Tuileries, asking, “What it was to do

in a place where it would not be free?” that he had proposed to send a

message to the King, stating that “his Parliament would hear his wishes

in their ordinary place of meeting, whenever it should please him to come

or to send.” The Regent added that these propositions had made

considerable sensation, and that the Parliament were at that moment

debating upon them. The Council appeared much astounded at this news,

but M. le Duc d’Orleans said, in a very composed manner, that he did not

expect a refusal; he ordered the Keeper of the Seals, nevertheless, to

propose such measures as it would be best to take, supposing the motion

of the Chief-President should be carried.

The Keeper of the Seals declared that he could not believe the Parliament

would be guilty of this disobedience, contrary to all law and usage.

He showed at some length that nothing was so pernicious as to expose the

King’s authority to a formal opposition, and decided in favour of the

immediate interdiction of the Parliament if it fell into this fault.

M. le Duc d’Orleans added that there was no other course open, and took

the opinion of M. le Duc, which was strongly in his favour. M. le Prince

de Conti the same, mine also, that of M. de la Force and of M. de Guiche

still more so. The Marechal de Villeroy, in a broken voice, seeking big

words, which would not come in time to him, deplored this extremity, and

did all he could to avoid giving a precise opinion. Forced at last by

the Regent to explain himself, he did not dare to oppose, but added that

he assented with regret, and wished to explain the grievous results of

the proposed measure. But the Regent, interrupting him, said he need not

take the trouble: everything had been foreseen; that it would be much

more grievous to be disobeyed by the Parliament than to force it into

obedience; and immediately after asked the Duc de Noailles his opinion,

who replied that it would be very sad to act thus, but that he was for

it. Villars wished to paraphrase, but contained himself, and said he

hoped the Parliament would obey. Pressed by the Regent, he proposed to

wait for fresh news before deciding; but, pressed more closely, he

declared for the interdiction, with an air of warmth and vexation,

extremely marked. Nobody after this dared to hesitate, and the majority

voted by an inclination of the head.

A short time afterwards it was announced to M. le Duc d’Orleans that the

Parliament had set out on foot, and had begun to defile through the

palace. This news much cooled the blood of the company, M. le Duc

d’Orleans more than that of any one else.

After this the Regent, in a cheerful manner, called upon the Presidents

of the Councils to bring forward any business they might have on hand,

but not one had any. The Marechal de Villars said, however, that he had

a matter to produce, and he produced it accordingly, but with a clearness

which, under the circumstances, was extraordinary. I fancy, however,

that very few knew what he was talking about. We were all too much

occupied with more interesting matters, and each voted without speaking.

Bad luck to those who had had business to bring forward this day; they

who conducted it would have known but little what they said: they who

listened, still less.

The Council finished thus, from lack of matter, and a movement was made

to adjourn it as usual. I stepped in front of M. le Prince de Conti to

M. le Duc d’Orleans, who understood me, and who begged the company to

keep their seats. La Vrilliere went out by order for news, but there was

nothing fresh.

CHAPTER XCIII

It was now a little after ten. We remained a good half-hour in our

places, talking a little with each other, but on the whole rather silent.

At the end some grew fidgety and anxious, rose and went to the windows.

M. le Duc d’Orleans restrained them as well as he could; but at length

Desgranges entered to say that the Chief-President had already arrived,

in his coach, and that the Parliament was near. So soon as he had

retired, the Council rose by groups, and could no longer be kept seated.

M. le Duc d’Orleans himself at last rose, and all he could do was to

prohibit everybody from leaving the room under any pretext, and this

prohibition he repeated two or three times.

Scarcely had we risen when M. le Duc came to me, rejoiced at the success

that had hitherto been had, and much relieved by the absence of the

bastards. Soon after I quitted him the Duc d’Orleans came to me,

overpowered with the same sentiment. I said what I thought of the

consternation of every one; and painted the expression of M. d’Effiat, at

which he was not surprised. He was more so about Besons. I asked if he

was not afraid the bastards would come to the Bed of justice; but he was

certain they would not. I was resolved, however, to prepare his mind

against that contingency.

I walked about, slowly and incessantly without fixing myself on any one,

in order that nothing should escape me, principally attending to the

doors. I took advantage of the opportunity to say a word here and a word

there, to pass continually near those who were suspected, to skim and

interrupt all conversations. D’Antin was often joined by the Duc de

Noailles, who had resumed his habit of the morning, and continually

followed me with his eyes. He had an air of consternation, was agitated

and embarrassed in countenance--he commonly so free and easy! D’Antin

took me aside to see whether he could not, considering his position, be

excused from attending the Bed of Justice. He received permission from

the Regent on certain conditions.

I went then to break in upon the colloquy of D’Effiat and his friends,

and taking them by surprise, caused D’Effiat to say that he had just

heard strange resolutions, that he did not know who had advised them,

that he prayed that M. d’Orleans would find them advantageous.

I replied, agreeing with him. The Marechal de Villeroy sighed, muttered,

and shook his wig, Villars spoke more at length, and blamed sharply what

had been done. I assented to everything, being there not to persuade but

to watch.

Nevertheless we grew weary of the slowness of the Parliament, and often

sent out for news. Several of the Council tried to leave the room,

perhaps to blab, but the Regent would allow no one but La Vrilliere to go

out, and seeing that the desire to leave increased, stood at the door

himself. I suggested to him that Madame d’Orleans would be in a great

state of uneasiness, and suggested that he should write to her; but he

could not be persuaded to do it, though he promised.

At last the Parliament arrived, and behold us! like children, all at the

windows. The members came in red robes, two by two, by the grand door of

the court, which they passed in order to reach the Hall of the

Ambassadors, where the Chief-President, who had come in his carriage with

the president Haligre, awaited them.

The Parliament being in its place, the peers having arrived, and the

presidents having put on their furs behind the screens arranged for that

purpose in an adjoining room, a messenger came to inform us that all was

ready. The question had been agitated, whether the King should dine

meanwhile, and I had it carried in the negative, fearing lest coming

immediately after to the Bed of justice, and having eaten before his

usual hour, he might be ill, which would have been a grievous

inconvenience. As soon as it was announced to the Regent that we could

set out, his Royal Highness sent word to the Parliament, to prepare the

deputation to receive the King; and then said aloud to the company, that

it was time to go in search of his Majesty.

At these words I felt a storm of joy sweep over me, at the thought of the

grand spectacle that was going to pass in my presence, which warned me to

be doubly on my guard. I tried to furnish myself with the strongest dose

of seriousness, gravity, and modesty. I followed M. le Duc d’Orleans,

who entered the King’s room by the little door, and who found the King in

his cabinet. On the way the Duc d’Albret made me some very marked

compliments, with evident desire to discover something. I put him off

with politeness, complaints of the crowd, of the annoyance of my dress,

and gained thus the King’s cabinet.

The King was dressed as usual. When the Duc d’Orleans had been a few

moments with him, he asked him if he would be pleased to go: and the way

was instantly’ cleared, a procession formed, and the King moved towards

the Hall of the Swiss Guard.

I now hastened to the chamber, where the Bed of justice was to be held.

The passage to it was tolerably, free. The officers of the body-guard

made place for me and for the Duc de la Force, and Marechal de Villars,

who followed me, one by one. I stopped a moment in the passage at the

entrance to the room, seized with joy upon seeing this grand spectacle,

and at the thought of the grand movement that was drawing nigh, I needed

a pause in order to recover myself sufficiently to see distinctly what

I looked at, and to put on a new coat of seriousness and of modesty.

I fully expected I should be well examined by a company which had been

carefully taught not to like me, and by the curious spectators waiting to

see what was to be hatched out of so profound a secret, in such an

important assembly, summoned so hastily. Moreover, nobody was ignorant

that I knew all, at least from the Council of the Regency I had just

left.

I did not deceive myself. As soon as I appeared, all eyes were fixed

upon me. I slowly advanced towards the chief greffier, and introducing

myself between the two seats, I traversed the length of the room, in

front of the King’s people, who saluted me with a smiling air, and I

ascended over three rows of high seats, where all the peers were in their

places, and who rose as I approached the steps. I respectfully saluted

them from the third row.

Seated in my elevated place, and with nothing before me, I was able to

glance over the whole assembly. I did so at once, piercing everybody

with my eyes. One thing alone restrained me; it was that I did not dare

to fix my eyes upon certain objects. I feared the fire and brilliant

significance of my looks at that moment so appreciated by everybody: and

the more I saw I attracted attention, the more anxious was I to wean

curiosity by my discreetness. I cast, nevertheless, a glittering glance

upon the Chief-President and his friends, for the examination of whom I

was admirably placed. I carried my looks over all the Parliament,

and saw there an astonishment, a silence, a consternation, such as I had

not expected, and which was of good augury to me. The Chief-President,

insolently crest-fallen, the other presidents disconcerted, and attentive

to all, furnished me the most agreeable spectacle. The simply curious

(among which I rank those who had no vote) appeared to me not less

surprised (but without the bewilderment of the others), calmly surprised;

in a word, everybody showed much expectation and desire to divine what

had passed at the Council.

I had but little leisure for this examination, for the King immediately

arrived. The hubbub which followed his entrance, and which lasted until

his Majesty and all who accompanied him were in their places, was another

singularity. Everybody sought to penetrate the Regent, the Keeper of the

Seals, and the principal personages. The departure of the bastards from

the cabinet of the Council had redoubled attention, but everybody did not

know of that departure; now everybody perceived their absence. The

consternation of the Marechals--of their senior--(the governor of the

King) was evident. It augmented the dejection of the Chief-President,

who not seeing his master the Duc du Maine, cast a terrible glance upon

M. de Sully and me, who exactly occupied the places of the two brothers.

In an instant all the eyes of the assembly were cast, at the same time,

upon us; and I remarked that the meditativeness and expectation increased

in every face. That of the Regent had an air of gentle but resolute

majesty completely new to it, his eyes attentive, his deportment grave,

but easy. M. le Duc, sage, measured, but encircled by I know not what

brilliancy, which adorned all his person and which was evidently kept

down. M. le Prince de Conti appeared dull, pensive, his mind far away

perhaps. I was not able during the sitting to see them except now and

then, and under pretext of looking at the King, who was serious,

majestic, and at the same time as pretty as can be imagined; grave, with

grace in all his bearing, his air attentive, and not at all wearied,

playing his part very well and without embarrassment.

When all was ready, Argenson, the Keeper of the Seals, remained some

minutes at his desk motionless, looking down, and the fire which sprang

from his eyes seemed to burn every breast. An extreme silence eloquently

announced the fear, the attention, the trouble, and the curiosity of all

the expectants. The Parliament, which under the deceased King had often

summoned this same Argenson, and as lieutenant of police had often given

him its orders, he standing uncovered at the bar of the house; the

Parliament, which since the regency had displayed its ill-will towards

him so far as to excite public remark, and which still detained prisoners

and papers to vex him; this Chief President so superior to him, so

haughty, so proud of his Duc du Maine; this Lamoignon, who had boasted he

would have him hanged at his Chamber of justice, where he had so

completely dishonoured himself: this Parliament and all saw him clad in

the ornaments of the chief office of the robe, presiding over them,

effacing them, and entering upon his functions to teach them their duty,

to read them a public lesson the first time he found himself at their

head! These vain presidents were seen turning their looks from a man who

imposed so strongly upon their pride, and who annihilated their arrogance

in the place even whence they drew it, and rendered them stupid by

regards they could not sustain.

After the Keeper of the Seals (according to the manner of the preachers)

had accustomed himself to this august audience, he uncovered himself,

rose, mounted to the King, knelt before the steps of the throne, by the

side of the middle of the steps, where the grand chamberlain was lying

upon cushions, and took the King’s orders, descended, placed himself in

his chair and covered himself. Let us say it once for all, he performed

the same ceremony at the commencement of each business, and likewise

before and after taking the opinion upon each; at the bar of justice

neither he nor the chamberlain ever speaks otherwise to the King; and

every time he went to the King on this occasion the Regent rose and

approached him to hear and suggest the orders. Having returned back into

his place, he opened, after some moments of silence, this great scene by

a discourse. The report of the Bed of justice, made by the Parliament

and printed, which is in the hands of everybody, renders it unnecessary

for me to give the discourse of the Keeper of the Seals, that of the

Chief-President, those of the King’s people, and the different papers

that were read and registered. I will simply content myself with some

observations. This first discourse, the reading of the letters of the

Keeper of the Seals, and the speech of the Advocate-General Blancmesnil

which followed, the opinions taken, the order given, sometimes reiterated

to keep the two double doors open, did not surprise anybody; served only

as the preface to all the rest; to sharpen curiosity more and more as the

moment approached in which it was to be satisfied.

This first act finished, the second was announced by the discourse of the

Keeper of the Seals, the force of which penetrated all the Parliament.

General consternation spread itself over their faces. Scarcely one of

the members dared to speak to his neighbour. I remarked that the Abbe

Pucelle, who, although only counsellor-clerk, was upon the forms in front

of me, stood, so that he might hear better every time the Keeper of the

Seals spoke. Bitter grief, obviously full of vexation, obscured the

visage of the Chief-President. Shame and confusion were painted there.

After the vote, and when the Keeper of the Seals had pronounced, I saw

the principal members of the Parliament in commotion. The Chief-

President was about to speak. He did so by uttering the remonstrance of

the Parliament, full of the most subtle and impudent malice against the

Regent, and of insolence against the King. The villain trembled,

nevertheless, in pronouncing it. His voice broken, his eyes constrained,

his flurry and confusion, contradicted the venomous words he uttered;

libations he could not abstain from offering to himself and his company.

This was the moment when I relished, with delight utterly impossible to

express, the sight of these haughty lawyers (who had dared to refuse us

the salutation), prostrated upon their knees, and rendering, at our feet,

homage to the throne, whilst we sat covered upon elevated seats, at the

side of that same throne. These situations and these postures, so widely

disproportioned, plead of themselves with all the force of evidence, the

cause of those who are really and truly ‘laterales regis’ against this

‘vas electum’ of the third estate. My eyes fixed, glued, upon these

haughty bourgeois, with their uncovered heads humiliated to the level of

our feet, traversed the chief members kneeling or standing, and the ample

folds of those fur robes of rabbit-skin that would imitate ermine, which

waved at each long and redoubled genuflexion; genuflexions which only

finished by command of the King.

The remonstrance being finished, the Keeper of the Seals mentioned to the

King their wishes, asking further opinions; took his place again; cast

his eyes on the Chief-President, and said: The King wishes to be obeyed,

and obeyed immediately.

This grand speech was a thunder-bolt which overturned councillors and

presidents in the most marked manner. All of them lowered their heads,

and the majority kept them lowered for a long time. The rest of the

spectators, except the marshals of France, appeared little affected by

this desolation.

But this--an ordinary triumph--was nothing to that which was to follow.

After an interval of some few minutes, the Keeper of the Seals went up

again to the King, returned to his place, and remained there in silence

some little time. Then everybody clearly saw that the Parliamentary

affair being finished, something else must be in the wind. Some thought

that a dispute which the Dukes had had with the Parliament, concerning

one of its usurpations, was now to be settled in our favour. Others who

had noticed the absence of the bastards, guessed it was something that

affected them; but nobody divined what, much less its extent.

At last the Keeper of the Seals opened his mouth, and in his first

sentence announced the fall of one brother and the preservation of the

other. The effect of this upon every one was inexpressible. However

occupied I might be in containing mine, I lost nothing. Astonishment

prevailed over every other sentiment. Many appeared glad, either from

hatred to the Duc du Maine, or from affection for the Comte de Toulouse;

several were in consternation. The Chief-President lost all countenance;

his visage, so self-sufficient and so audacious, was seized with a

convulsive movement; the excess alone of his rage kept him from swooning.

It was even worse at the reading of the declaration. Each word was

legislative and decreed a fresh fall. The attention was general; every

one was motionless, so as not to lose a word; all eyes were fixed upon

the ‘greffier’ who was reading. A third of this reading over, the Chief-

President, gnashing the few teeth left in his head, rested his forehead

upon his stick that he held in both hands, and in this singular and

marked position finished listening to the declaration, so overwhelming

for him, so resurrectionary for us.

Yet, as for me, I was dying with joy. I was so oppressed that I feared I

should swoon; my heart dilated to excess, and no longer found room to

beat. The violence I did myself, in order to let nothing escape me, was

infinite; and, nevertheless, this torment was delicious. I compared the

years and the time of servitude; the grievous days, when dragged at the

tail of the Parliamentary car as a victim, I had served as a triumph for

the bastards; the various steps by which they had mounted to the summit

above our heads; I compared them, I say, to this court of justice and of

rule, to this frightful fall which, at the same time, raised us by the

force of the shock. I thanked myself that it was through me this had

been brought about. I had triumphed, I was revenged; I swam in my

vengeance; I enjoyed the full accomplishment of desires the most vehement

and the most continuous of all my life. I was tempted to fling away all

thought and care. Nevertheless, I did not fail to listen to this

vivifying reading (every note of which sounded upon my heart as the bow

upon an instrument), or to examine, at the same time, the impressions it

made upon every one.

At the first word the Keeper of the Seals said of this affair, the eyes

of the two bishop-peers met mine. Never did I see surprise equal to

theirs, or so marked a transport of joy. I had not been able to speak to

them on account of the distance of our places; and they could not resist

the movement which suddenly seized them. I swallowed through my eyes a

delicious draught of their joy, and turned away my glance from theirs,

lest I should succumb beneath this increase of delight. I no longer

dared to look at them.

The reading finished, the other declaration in favour of the Comte de

Toulouse was immediately commenced by the ‘greffier’, according to the

command of the Keeper of the Seals, who had given them to him both

together. It seemed to complete the confusion of the Chief-President and

the friends of the Duc du Maine, by the contrast between the treatment of

the two brothers.

After the Advocate-General had spoken, the Keeper of the Seals mounted to

the King, with the opinions of the Princes of the Blood; then came to the

Duc de Sully and me. Fortunately I had more memory than he had, or

wished to have; therefore it was exactly my affair. I presented to him

my hat with a bunch of feathers in the front, in an express manner very

marked, saying to him loudly enough: “No, Monsieur, we cannot be judges;

we are parties to the cause, and we have only to thank the King for the

justice he renders us.”

He smiled and made an excuse. I pushed him away before the Duc de Sully

had time to open his mouth; and looking round I saw with pleasure that my

refusal had been marked by everybody. The Keeper of the Seals retired as

he came, and without taking the opinions of the peers, or of the bishop-

peers, went to the marshals of France; thence descended to the Chief-

President and to the ‘presidents a mortier’, and so to the rest of the

lower seats; after which, having been to the King and returned to his

place, he pronounced the decree of registration, and thus put the

finishing touch to my joy.

Immediately after M. le Duc rose, and having made his reverences to the

King forgot to sit down and cover himself to speak, according to the

uninterrupted right and usage of the peers of France; therefore not one

of us rose. He made, then, slowly and uncovered, the speech which has

been printed at the end of the preceding ones, and read it not very

intelligibly because his organ was not favourable. As soon as he had

finished, M. le Duc d’Orleans rose, and committed the same fault. He

said, also standing and uncovered, that the request of M. le Duc appeared

to him just; and after some praises added, that M. le Duc du Maine was

now reduced to the rank given to him by his peerage, M. le Marechal de

Villeroy, his senior, could no longer remain under him, which was a new

and very strong reason in addition to those M. le Duc had alleged. This

request had carried to the highest point the astonishment of the assembly

and the despair of the Chief-President, and the handful of people who

appeared by their embarrassment to be interested in the Duc du Maine.

The Marechal de Villeroy, without knitting his brow, had a disturbed

look, and the eyes of the chief accuser oftener were inundated with

tears. I was not able to distinguish well his cousin and intimate friend

the Marechal d’Huxelles, who screened himself beneath the vast brim of

his hat, thrust over his eyes, and who did not stir. The Chief-

President, stunned by this last thunder-bolt, elongated his face so

surprisingly, that I thought for a moment his chin had fallen upon his

knees.

However, the Keeper of the Seals having called upon the King’s people to

speak, they replied that they had not heard the proposition of M. le Duc,

therefore his paper was passed to them from hand to hand, during which

the Keeper of the Seals repeated very kindly what the Regent had added

upon the seniority of the Marechal de Villeroy over the Duc du Maine.

Blancmesnil merely threw his eyes upon the paper of M. le Duc, and spoke,

after which the Keeper of the Seals put it to the vote. I gave mine loud

enough, and said, “As for this affair I vote with all my heart for giving

the superintendence of the King’s education to M. le Duc.”

The votes being taken, the Keeper, of the Seals called the chief

‘greffier’, ordered him to bring his paper and his little bureau near

his, so as to do all at once; and in presence of the King register

everything that had been read and resolved, and signed also. This was

done without any difficulty, according to forms, under the eyes of the

Keeper of the Seals, who never raised them: but as there were five or six

documents to register they took up a long time.

I had well observed the King when his education was in question, and I

remarked in him no sort of alteration, change, or constraint. This was

the last act of the drama: he was quite lively now the registrations

commenced. However, as there were no more speeches to occupy him, he

laughed with those near, amused himself with everything, even remarking

that the Duc de Louvigny had on a velvet coat, and laughed at the heat he

must feel, and all this with grace. This indifference for M. du Maine

struck everybody, and publicly contradicted what his partisans tried to

publish, viz., that his eyes had been red, but that neither at the Bed of

justice, nor since, he had dared to show his trouble. The truth is he

had his eyes dry and serene the whole time, and pronounced the name of

the Duc du Maine only once since, which was after dinner the same day,

when he asked where he had gone, with a very indifferent air, without

saying a word more, then or since, or naming his children, who took

little trouble to see him; and when they went it was in order to have

even in his presence their little court apart, and to divert themselves

among themselves. As for the Duc du Maine, either from policy or because

he thought it not yet time, he only, saw the King in the morning,

sometimes in his bed, and not at all during the rest of the day, except

when obliged by his functions.

During the registration I gently passed my eyes over the whole assembly.,

and though I constantly constrained them, I could not resist the

temptation to indemnify myself upon the Chief-President; I perseveringly

overwhelmed him, therefore, a hundred different times during the sitting,

with my hard-hitting regards. Insult, contempt, disdain, triumph, were

darted at him from my eyes,--and pierced him to the very marrow often he

lowered his eyes when he caught my gaze once or twice he raised his upon

me, and I took pleasure in annoying him by sly but malicious smiles which

completed his vexation. I bathed myself in his rage, and amused myself

by making him feel it. I sometimes played with him by pointing him out

to my two neighbours when he could perceive this movement; in a word, I

pressed upon him without mercy, as heavily as I could.

At last the registration finished, the King descended the throne, and was

followed by the Regent, the two Princes of the Blood, and the necessary

gentlemen of the suite. At the same time the Marshals of France

descended, and while the King traversed the room, accompanied by the

deputation which had received him, they passed between the seats of the

councillors opposite us, to follow him to the door by which his Majesty

departed; and at the same time the two bishop-peers, passing before the

throne, came to put themselves at our head, and squeezed my hands and

my head (in passing before me) with warm gratification.

We followed them two by two according to seniority, and went straight

forward to the door. The Parliament began to move directly afterwards.

Place was made for us to the steps. The crowd, the people, the display

contrasted our conversation and our joy. I was sorry for it.

I immediately gained my coach, which I found near, and which took me

skilfully out of the court, so that I met with no check, and in a quarter

of an hour after leaving the sitting, I was at home.

I had need of a little rest, for pleasure even is fatigue, and happiness,

pure and untroubled as it may be, wearies the spirit. I entered my

house, then, at about two o’clock in the afternoon, intending to repose

myself, and in order to do so in security, I closed my door to everybody.

Alas! I had not been many minutes at home when I was called away to

perform one of the most painful and annoying commissions it was ever my

ill fortune to be charged with.

CHAPTER XCIV.

A little while before leaving the Cabinet of the Council for the Bed of

Justice, M. le Duc d’Orleans had begged me to go to the Palais Royal with

the Keeper of the Seals immediately after the ceremony had ended. As I

saw that nothing had been undertaken, I thought myself free of this

conference, and was glad to avoid a new proof that I had been in a

secret which had excited envy. I went, therefore, straight home,

arriving between two and three. I found at the foot of the steps

the Duc d’Humieres, Louville, and all my family, even my mother, whom

curiosity had drawn from her chamber, which she had not left since the

commencement of the winter. We remained below in my apartment, where,

while changing my coat and my shirt, I replied to their eager questions;

when, lo! M. de Biron, who had forced my door which I had closed against

everybody, in order to obtain a little repose, was announced.

Biron put his head in at my door, and begged to be allowed to say a word

to me. I passed, half-dressed, into my chamber with him. He said that

M. le Duc d’Orleans had expected me at the Palais Royal immediately after

the Bed of justice, and was surprised I had not appeared. He added that

there was no great harm done; and that the Regent wished to see me now,

in order that I might execute a commission for him. I asked Biron what

it was? He replied that it was to go to Saint-Clerc to announce what had

taken place to Madame la Duchesse d’Orleans!

This was a thunder-bolt for me. I disputed with Biron, who exhorted me

to lose no time, but to go at once to the Palais Royal, where I was

expected with impatience. I returned into my cabinet with him, so

changed in aspect that Madame de Saint-Simon was alarmed. I explained

what was the matter, and after Biron had chatted a moment, and again

pressed me to set out at once, he went away to eat his dinner. Ours was

served. I waited a little time in order to recover myself, determined

not to vex M. le Duc d’Orleans by dawdling, took some soup and an egg,

and went off to the Palais Royal.

It was in vain that, using all the eloquence I could command and all the

liberty I dared employ, I protested against being employed for this duty.

I represented to the Regent what an ill-chosen messenger I should be to

carry to Madame la Duchesse d’Orleans news of the disgrace of her brother

the Duc du Maine; I, who had always been such an open and declared enemy

to the bastards! I represented to him that people would say I went on

purpose to triumph over her at what had been done, and that she herself

would look upon my presence as a kind of insult. In vain! in vain! were

my arguments, my entreaties, my instances. M. le Duc d’Orleans had

determined that I should go on this errand, and go I must.

As I left his house to execute my luckless commission, I found one of

Madame la Duchesse d’Orleans’ pages, booted and spurred, who had just

arrived from Saint-Cloud. I begged him to return at once, at a gallop,

and say, on arriving, to the Duchesse Sforze (one of Madame la Duchesse

d’Orleans’ ladies) that I should be there soon with a message from M. le

Duc d’Orleans, and to ask her to meet me as I descended from my coach.

My object was to charge her with the message I had to deliver, and not to

see Madame la Duchesse d’Orleans at all. But my poor prudence was

confounded by that of the page, who had not less than I. He took good

care not to be the bearer of such ill news as he had just learned at the

Palais Royal, and which was now everywhere public. He contented himself

with saying that I was coming, sent by M. le Duc d’Orleans, spoke not a

word to the Duchesse Sforze, and disappeared at once. This is what I

afterwards learned, and what I saw clearly enough on arriving at Saint-

Cloud.

I went there at a gentle trot, in order to give time to the page to

arrive before me, and to the Duchesse Sforze to receive me. During the

journey I applauded myself for my address, but feared lest I should be

obliged to see Madame la Duchesse d’Orleans after Madame Sforze. I could

not imagine that Saint-Cloud was in ignorance of what had occurred, and,

nevertheless, I was in an agony that cannot be expressed, and this

increased as I approached the end of my journey. If it is disagreeable

to announce unpleasant news to the indifferent, how much more is it to

announce them to the deeply interested!

Penetrated with this dolorous sentiment I arrived in the grand court of

Saint-Cloud, and saw everybody at the windows, running from all parts.

I alighted, and asked the first comer to lead me to the Duchesse Sforze,

the position of whose apartments I am unacquainted with. I was told that

Madame Sforze was in the chapel with Madame la Duchesse d’Orleans. Then

I asked for the Marechale de Rochefort, and after a time she arrived,

hobbling along with her stick. I disputed with her, wishing to see

Madame Sforze, who was not to be found. I was anxious at all events to

go to her room and wait, but the inexorable Marechale pulled me by the

arm, asking what news I brought. Worn out at last, I said, “News? news

that you are acquainted with.”

“How, acquainted with?” she asked. “We know nothing, except that a Bed

of justice has been held, and we are expiring to know why, and what has

passed there.”

My astonishment at this ignorance was extreme, and I made her swear and

repeat four times over that nothing was known at Saint-Cloud. I told her

thereupon what had happened, and she, in her turn, astonished, almost

fell backwards! But where was Madame Sforze? she came not, and do what

I must, say what I might, I was forced to carry, my message to Madame la

Duchesse d’Orleans. I was sorely loth to do so, but was dragged by the

hand almost as a sheep is led to the slaughter.

I stood before Madame la Duchesse d’Orleans after having passed through

an apartment filled with her people, fear painted upon all their faces.

I saluted her; but, oh! how differently from my usual manner! She did

not perceive this at first, and begged me, with a cheerful natural air,

to approach her; but seeing my trouble, she exclaimed, “Good Heavens,

Monsieur, what a face you wear! What news bring you?”

Seeing that I remained silent and motionless, she became more moved, and

repeated her questions. I advanced a few steps towards her, and at her

third appeal, I said: “Madame, you know nothing then?”

“No, Monsieur; I simply know that there has been a Bed of justice: what

has passed there I am quite ignorant of.”

“Ah, Madame,” I replied, half turning away; “I am more unhappy, then,

than I thought to be.”

“What is the matter?” exclaimed she; “what has happened?” (rising and

sitting bolt upright on the sofa she was stretched upon.) “Come near and

sit down!”

I approached; stated that I was in despair. She, more and more moved,

said to me, “But speak; better to learn bad news from one’s friend than

from others.”

This remark pierced me to the heart, and made me sensible of the grief I

was going to inflict upon her. I summoned up courage, and I told her

all.

The tears of Madame la Duchesse d’Orleans flowed abundantly at my

recital. She did not answer a word, uttered no cry, but wept bitterly.

She pointed to a seat and I sat down upon it, my eyes during several

instants fixed upon the floor. Afterwards I said that M. le Duc

d’Orleans, who had rather forced upon me this commission, than charged me

with it, had expressly commanded me to tell her that he had very strong

proofs in his hands against M. du Maine; that he had kept them back a

long time, but could no longer do so now. She gently replied to me that

her brother was very unfortunate and shortly afterwards asked if I knew

what his crime was. I said that M. le Duc d’Orleans had not told me; and

that I had not dared to question him upon a subject of this nature,

seeing that he was not inclined to talk of it.

More tears shortly afterwards filled her eyes. Her brother must be very

criminal, she said, to be so treated.

I remained some time upon my seat, not daring to raise my eyes, in the

most painful state possible, and not knowing whether to remain or go

away. At last I acquainted her with my difficulty; said I fancied she

would like to be alone some little time before giving me her orders, but

that respect kept me equally in suspense as to whether I should go or

stay. After a short silence, she said she should like to see her women.

I rose, sent them to her, and said to them, if her Royal Highness asked

for me, I should be with the Duchesse Sforze, or the Marechale Rochefort;

but I could find neither of these two ladies, so I went up to Madame.

She rose as soon as I appeared, and said to me, with eagerness, “Well,

Monsieur, what news?” At the same time her ladies retired, and I was left

alone with her.

I commenced by an excuse for not coming to see her first, as was my duty,

on the ground that M. le Duc d’Orleans had assured me she would not

object to my commencing with Madame la Duchesse d’Orleans. She did not

object, in fact, but asked me for my news with much eagerness. I told

her what had happened. Joy spread over her face. She replied with a

mighty, “At last!” which she repeated, saying, her son long since ought

to have struck this blow, but that he was too good. I mentioned to her

that she was standing, but for politeness she remained so. After some

further talk she begged me to state all the details of this celebrated

morning.

I again recalled to her mind that she was standing, and represented that

what she desired to learn would take a long time to relate; but her ardor

to know it was extreme. I began then my story, commencing with the very

morning. At the end of a quarter of an hour, Madame seated herself, but

with the greatest politeness. I was nearly an hour with her, continually

telling and sometimes replying to her questions. She was delighted at

the humiliation of the Parliament, and of the bastards, and that her son

had at last displayed some firmness.

At this point the Marechale de Rochefort entered, and summoned me back to

Madame la Duchesse d’Orleans. I found that princess extended upon the

sofa where I had left her, an inkstand upon her knees and a pen in her

hand. She had commenced a reply to M. le Duc d’Orleans, but had not been

able to finish it. Looking at me with an air of gentleness and of

friendship, she observed, “Tears escape me; I have begged you to descend

in order to render me a service; my hand is unsteady, I pray you finish

my writing for me;” and she handed to me the inkstand and her letter. I

took them, and she dictated to me the rest of the epistle, that I at once

added to what she had written.

I was infinitely amazed at the conciseness and appropriateness of the

expressions she readily found, in the midst of her violent emotion, her

sobs, and her tears. She finished by saying that she was going to

Montmartre to mourn the misfortunes of her brother, and pray God for his

prosperity. I shall regret all my life I did not transcribe this letter.

All its expressions were so worthy, so fitting, so measured, everything

being according to truth and duty; and the letter, in fact, being so

perfectly well written, that although I remember it roughly, I dare not

give it, for fear of spoiling it. What a pity that a mind capable of

such self-possession, at such a moment, should have become valueless from

its leaning towards illegitimacy.

After this I had another interview with Madame, and a long talk with my

sure and trusty friend Madame Sforze. Then I set out for Paris, went

straight to the Palais Royal, and found M. le Duc d’Orleans with Madame

la Duchesse de Berry. He was delighted when he heard what Madame had

said respecting him; but he was not particularly pleased when he found

that Madame la Duchesse d’Orleans (who after telling me she would go to

Montmartre, had changed her mind), was coming to the Palais Royal.

I learned afterwards that she came about half an hour after I left. At

first she was all humility and sorrow, hoping to soften the Regent by

this conduct. Then she passed to tears, sobs, cries, reproaches,

expecting to make him by these means undo what he had done, and reinstate

M. du Maine in the position he had lost. But all her efforts proving

vain, she adopted another course: her sorrow turned to rage,--her tears

to looks of anger. Still in vain. She could gain nothing; vex and annoy

M. le Duc d’Orleans as she might by her conduct. At last, finding there

was no remedy to be had, she was obliged to endure her sorrow as best she

might.

As for me, I was erased entirely from her books. She looked upon me as

the chief cause of what had occurred, and would not see me. I remained

ever afterwards at variance with her. I had nothing to reproach myself

with, however, so that her enmity did not very deeply penetrate me.

CHAPTER XCV

It was scarcely to be expected, perhaps, that M. du Maine would remain

altogether quiet under the disgrace which had been heaped upon him by the

proceedings at the Bed of Justice. Soon indeed we found that he had been

secretly working out the most perfidious and horrible schemes for a long

time before that assembly; and that after his fall, he gave himself up

with redoubled energy to his devilish devices.

Towards the end of this memorable year, 1718, it was discovered that

Alberoni, by means of Cellamare, Spanish Ambassador at our Court, was

preparing a plot against the Regent. The scheme was nothing less than to

throw all the realm into revolt against the government of M. le Duc

d’Orleans; to put the King of Spain at the head of the affairs of France,

with a council and ministers named by him, and a lieutenant, who would in

fact have been regent; this self-same lieutenant to be no other than the

Duc du Maine!

This precious plot was, fortunately, discovered before it had come to

maturity. Had such not happened, the consequences might have been very

serious, although they could scarcely have been fatal. The conspirators

counted upon the Parliaments of Paris and of Brittany, upon all the old

Court accustomed to the yoke of the bastards, and to that of Madame de

Maintenon; and they flung about promises with an unsparing hand to all

who supported them. After all, it must be admitted, however, that the

measures they took and the men they secured, were strangely unequal to

the circumstances of the case, when the details became known; in fact,

there was a general murmur of surprise among the public, at the

contemptible nature of the whole affair.

But let me relate the circumstances accompanying the discovery of M. du

Maine’s pitiable treachery.

Cellamare, as I have said, was Spanish Ambassador at our Court. He had

been one of the chief movers in the plot. He had excited, as much as lay

in his power, discontent against the Regent’s government; he had done his

best to embroil France with Spain; he had worked heart and soul with M.

du Maine, to carry out the common end they had in view. So much

preparation had been made; so much of the treason train laid, that at

last it became necessary to send to Alberoni a full and clear account of

all that had been done, so as to paint exactly the position of affairs,

and determine the measures that remained to be taken. But how to send

such an account as this? To trust it to the ordinary channels of

communication would have been to run a great risk of exposure and

detection. To send it by private hand would have been suspicious, if the

hand were known, and dangerous if it were not: Cellamare had long since

provided for this difficulty.

He had caused a young ecclesiastic to be sent from Spain, who came to

Paris as though for his pleasure. There he was introduced to young

Monteleon, son of a former ambassador at our Court, who had been much

liked. The young ecclesiastic was called the Abbe Portocarrero, a name

regarded with favour in France. Monteleon came from the Hague, and was

going to Madrid. Portocarrero came from Madrid, and was going back

there. What more natural than that the two young men should travel in

company? What less natural than that the two young men, meeting each

other by pure accident in Paris, should be charged by the ambassador with

any packet of consequence, he having his own couriers, and the use, for

the return journey, of those sent to him from Spain? In fact, it may be

believed that these young people themselves were perfectly ignorant of

what they were charged with, and simply believed that, as they were going

to Spain, the ambassador merely seized the occasion to entrust them with

some packet of no special importance.

They set out, then, at the commencement of December, furnished with

passports from the King--(for Alberoni had openly caused almost a rupture

between the two Courts)--with a Spanish banker, who had been established

in England, where he had become bankrupt for a large amount, so that the

English government had obtained permission from the Regent to arrest him,

if they could, anywhere in France. It will sometimes be perceived that I

am ill-instructed in this affair; but I can only tell what I know: and as

for the rest, I give my conjectures. In fact, the Abbe Dubois kept

everybody so much in the dark, that even M. le Duc d’Orleans was not

informed of all.

Whether the arrival of the Abbe Portocarrero in Paris, and his short stay

there, seemed suspicious to the Abbe Dubois and his emissaries, or

whether he had corrupted some of the principal people of the Spanish

Ambassador and this Court, and learned that these young men were charged

with a packet of importance; whether there was no other mystery than the

bad company of the bankrupt banker, and that the anxiety of Dubois to

oblige his friends the English, induced him to arrest the three

travellers and seize their papers, lest the banker should have confided

his to the young men, I know not: but however it may have been, it is

certain that the Abbe Dubois arrested the three travellers at Poitiers,

and carried off their papers, a courier bringing these papers to him

immediately afterwards.

Great things sometimes spring from chance. The courier from Poitiers

entered the house of the Abbe Dubois just as the Regent entered the

opera. Dubois glanced over the papers, and went and related the news of

this capture to M. le Duc Orleans, as he left his box. This prince, who

was accustomed to shut himself up with his roues at that hour, did so

with a carelessness to which everything yielded, under pretext that

Dubois had not had sufficient time to examine all the papers. The first

few hours of the morning he was not himself. His head, still confused by

the fumes of the wine and by the undigested supper of the previous night,

was not in a state to understand anything, and the secretaries of state

have often told me that was the time they could make him sign anything.

This was the moment taken by Dubois to acquaint the Regent with as much

or as little of the contents of the papers as he thought fit. The upshot

of their interview was, that the Abbe was allowed by the Duc d’Orleans to

have the control of this matter entirely in his own hands.