From the age of fourteen to that of fifteen years, my son was not ugly;
but after that time he became very much sun-burnt in Italy and Spain.
Now, however, he is too ruddy; he is fat, but not tall, and yet he does
not seem disagreeable to me. The weakness of his eyes causes him
sometimes to squint. When he dances or is on horseback he looks very
well, but he walks horridly ill. In his childhood he was so delicate
that he could not even kneel without falling, through weakness; by
degrees, however, his strength improved. He loads his stomach too much
at table; he has a notion that it is good to make only one meal; instead
of dinner, he takes only one cup of chocolate, so that by supper he is
extremely hungry and thirsty. In answer to whatever objections are made
to this regimen, he says he cannot do business after eating. When he
gets tipsy, it is not with strong potations, but with Champagne or Tokay.
He is not very fond of the chase. The weakness of his sight arose from
an accident which befell him at the age of four years, and which was
something like an apoplexy. He sees well enough near, and can read the
smallest writing; but at the distance of half the room he cannot
distinguish persons without a glass. He had an application of a powder
to that eye which is worst, and, although it had caused intolerable pain
to every other person who had used it, it seemed to have no effect upon
him, for he laughed and chatted as usual. He found some benefit from
this; but W. Gendron was too severe for him. That physician forbade the
petits-soupers and the amusements which usually followed them; this was
not agreeable to my son, and those who used to frequent them to their own
advantage; they therefore persuaded him to adopt some other remedies
which almost deprived him of sight. For the last forty years (1719),
that is to say since the accident happened, the month of October has
never elapsed without his health and eyesight being affected towards the
21st in some way or other.
He was only seventeen years old when he was married. If he had not been
threatened with imprisonment in the old castle of Villers-Cotterets, and
if hopes had not been given him of seeing the Duchesse de Bourbon as he
wished, they could not have induced him to form this accursed marriage.
It is my son's unlucky destiny to have for a wife a woman who is desirous
of ruling everything with her brothers. It is commonly said, that where
one sins there one suffers; and thus it has happened to my son with
respect to his wife and his brothers-in-law. If he had not inflicted
upon me the deepest vexation by uniting himself with this low race, he
might now speak to them boldly. I never quarrelled with my son; but he
was angry with me about this marriage, which he had contracted against my
inclination.
As I sincerely love him, I have forgotten it; and I do not believe that
we shall ever quarrel in future. When I have anything to say about his
conduct, I say it openly, and there is an end of it. He behaves to me
very respectfully. I did all in my power to prevent his marriage; but
since it did take place, and with his consent, though without mine, I
wish now only for his tranquillity. His wife fancies that she has done
him an honour in marrying him, because he is only the son of the brother
of a king, while she is the daughter of a king; but she will not perceive
that she is also the daughter of a -----. He was obliged to put down all
his feelings of nobility; and if I had a hundred crowns for as many times
as he has since repented it, I could almost buy France for the King, and
pay his debts. My son visits his wife every day, and when she is in good
humour he stays with her a long time; but when she is ill-tempered,
which, unfortunately, happens too often, he goes away without saying
anything. I have every reason to be satisfied with him; he lives on very
good terms with me, and I have no right to complain of his conduct; but I
see that he does not repose much confidence in me, and I know many
persons to whom he is more communicative.
I love my son with all my heart; but I cannot see how any one else can,
for his manners are little calculated to inspire love. In the first
place, he is incapable of the passion, or of being attached to any one
for a long time; in the second, he is not sufficiently polished and
gallant to make love, but sets about it rudely and coarsely; in the
third, he is very indiscreet, and tells plainly all that he has done.
I have said to him a hundred times, "I wonder how any woman can run after
you, whom they ought rather to fly from."
He would reply, laughing, "Ah! you do not know the libertine women of the
present day; provided they are talked of, they are satisfied."
There was an affair of gallantry, but a perfectly honourable one, between
him and the Queen of Spain. I do not know whether he had the good
fortune to be agreeable to her, but I know he was not at all in love with
her. He thought her mien and figure good, but neither her manners nor
her face were agreeable to him.
He was not in any degree romantic, and, not knowing how to conduct
himself in this affair, he said to the Duc de Grammont, "You understand
the manner of Spanish gallantry; pray tell me a little what I ought to
say and do."
He could not, however, suit the fancy of the Queen, who was for pure
gallantry; those who were less delicate he was better suited for, and for
this reason it was said that libertine women used to run after him.
...............................
He never denied that he was indiscreet and inconstant. Being one day
with me at the theatre, and hearing Valere say he was tired of his
mistress, "That has been my case often," he cried. I told him he never
was in love in his life, and that what he called love was mere
debauchery.
He replied, "It is very true that I am not a hero of romance, and that I
do not make love like a Celadon, but I love in my way."
"Your way," I said, "is an extremely gross one." . . . This made him
laugh.
He likes the business of his gallantry to be conducted with beat of drum,
without the least refinement. He reminds me of the old Patriarchs, who
were surrounded by women.
............................
All women do not please him alike. He does not like fine airs so well as
profligate manners: the opera-house dancers are his favourites. The
women run after him from mere interest, for he pays them well. A
pleasant enough adventure happened last winter:
A young and pretty woman visited my son in his cabinet; he presented her
with a diamond of the value of 2,000 Louis and a box worth 200. This
woman had a jealous husband, but she had effrontery enough to shew him
the jewels which she said had been offered to her a great bargain by
persons who wanted the money, and she begged him not to let such an
opportunity slip. The credulous husband gave her the money she asked
for. She thanked him, put the box in her dressing-case and the diamond
on her finger, and displayed it in the best company.
When she was asked where she got the ring and the bog, "M. de Parabere
gave them to me," she said; and he, who happened to be present, added,
"Yes, I gave them to her; can one do less when one has for a wife a lady
of quality who loves none but her husband?"
This caused some mirth; for other people were not so simple as the
husband, and knew very well where the presents came from. If my son has
a queen-sultana, it is this Madame de Parabere. Her mother, Madame de la
Vieuville, was dame d'atour to the Duchesse de Berri.--[Marie-Madeline de
la Vieuville, Comtesse de la Parabere; it was she whom the Regent used to
call "his little black crow."]--It was there that my son first became
acquainted with the daughter, who is now a widow: she is of a slight
figure, dark complexion, and never paints; her eyes and mouth are pretty;
she is not very sensible, but is a desirable little person. My son says
he likes her because she thinks of nothing but amusing herself, and never
interferes with other affairs. That would be very well if she were not a
drunkard, and if she did not make my son eat and drink so much, and take
him to a farm which she has at Anieres, and where he sometimes sups with
her and the country folks. It is said that he becomes a little jealous
of Parabere, in which case he must love her more than he has done yet.
I often tell him that, if he really loved, he would not suffer his
mistresses to run after others, and to commit such frequent infidelities.
He replied that there was no such thing as love except in romances. He
broke with Seri, because, as he said, she wanted him to love her like an
Arcadian. He has often made me laugh at his complaining of this
seriously, and with an air of great affliction.
"Why do you disturb yourself?" I have said to him; "if that is not
agreeable to you, leave her alone. You are not obliged to feign a love
which you do not feel."
This convinces me, however, that my son is incapable of love. He
willingly eats, drinks, sings, and amuses himself with his mistresses,
but to love one of them more than another is not his way. He is not
afraid of application; but when he has been actively engaged from morning
till night he is glad to divert himself at supper with such persons. It
is for this reason that Parabere, who is said to be a great fool, is so
agreeable to him. She eats and drinks astonishingly, and plays absurd
tricks, which divert him and make him forget his labour.
My son, it must be allowed, possesses some great qualities. He has good
sense, understands several languages, is fond of reading, speaks well,
has studied much, is learned and acquainted with most of the arts,
however difficult. He is a musician, and does not compose badly; he
paints well, he understands chemistry, is well versed in history, and is
quick of comprehension. He soon, however, gets tired of everything. He
has an excellent memory, is expert in war, and fears nothing in the
world; his intentions are always just and fair, and if his actions are
ever otherwise, it is the fault of others. His only faults are that he
is too kind, not sufficiently reserved, and apt to believe people who
have less sense than himself; he is, therefore, often deceived, for the
knaves who know his easiness of temper will run all risks with him. All
the misfortunes and inconveniences which befall him spring from that
cause. His other fault is one not common to Frenchmen, the easiness with
which women can persuade him, and this often brings him into domestic
quarrels. He can refuse them nothing, and even carries his complaisance
so far as to give them marks of affection without really liking them.
When I tell him that he is too good, he says, "Is it not better to be
good than bad?"
He was always extremely weak, too, with respect to lovers, who chose to
make him their confidant.
The Duc de Saint Simon was one day exceedingly annoyed at this weakness
of my son, and said to him, angrily, "Ah! there you are; since the days
of Louis le Debonnaire there has been nobody so debonnaire as yourself."
My son was much amused at it.
When he is under the necessity of saying anything harsh, he is much more
pained at it than the person who experiences the disgrace.
He is not fond of the country, but prefers living in town. He is in this
respect like Madame de Longueville, who was tired to death of being in
Normandy, where her husband was.
[The Duc de Longueville was Governor of Normandy; and after the
reduction of Bordeaux, in 1652, the Duchesse de Longueville received
an order from the Court to repair to her husband.]
Those who were about her said, "Mon Dieu, Madame, you are eaten up with
ennui; will you not take some amusement? There are dogs and a beautiful
forest; will you hunt?"
"No," she replied, "I don't like hunting."
"Will you work?"
"No, I don't like work."
"Will you take a walk, or play at some game?"
"No, I like neither the one nor the other."
"What will you do, then?" they asked.
"What can I do?" she said; "I hate innocent pleasures."
My son understands music well, as all the musicians agree. He has
composed two or three operas, which are pretty. La Fare, his Captain of
the guards, wrote the words. He had them played in his palace, but never
would permit them to be represented on the public stage.
When he had nothing to do he painted for one of the Duchess's cabinets
all the pastoral romance of "Daphnis and Chloe."
[The designs for the romance of "Daphnis and Chloe" were composed by
the Regent, with the advice, and probably the assistance, of Claude
Audran, a distinguished painter, whom Lebrun often employed to help
him with his large pictures. He painted a part of the battles of
Alexander. These designs were engraved by Benoit Audran; they
embellish what is called "the Regent's edition" of the Pastoral of
Longus, which was printed under his inspection in the year 1718. It
is somewhat surprising that Madame should speak so disdainfully of
so eminent an artist as Benoit Audran.]
With the exception of the first, he invented and painted all the
subjects. They have been engraved by one Audran. The Duchess thought
them so pretty that she had them worked in a larger size in tapestry; and
these, I think, are better than the engravings.
My son's learning has not the least tinge of pedantry. He knows a
quantity of facetious stories, which he learnt in Italy and in Spain.
He does not tell them badly, but I like him better in his more serious
moods, because they are more natural to him. When he talks upon learned
topics it is easy to see that they are rather troublesome to him than
otherwise. I often blamed him for this; but he used to reply that it was
not his fault, that he was ready enough to learn anything, but that when
he once knew it he no longer took pleasure in it.
He is eloquent enough, and when he chooses he can talk with dignity. He
has a Jesuit for his confessor, but he does not suffer himself to be
ruled by him. He pretends that his daughter has no influence over him.
He was delighted when he obtained the command of the Spanish army, and
was pleased with everything in that country; this procured him the hatred
of the Princesse des Ursins, who feared that my son would diminish her
authority and gain more of the confidence of the Spaniards than she
possessed.
He learned to cook during his stay with the army in Spain.
I cannot tell where he learned so much patience; I am sure it was neither
from Monsieur nor from me.
When he acted from himself I always found him reasonable; but he too
often confided in rogues, who had not half his sense, and then all went
wrong.
My son is like all the rest of his family; when they had become
accustomed to a thing they suffered it to go its own way. It was for
this reason he could not persuade himself to shake off the Abbe Dubois,
although he knew him to be a rascal. This Abbe had the impudence to try
to persuade even me that the marriage he had brought about was an
excellent one.
"But the honour which is lost in it," said I, "how will you repair that?"
Old Maintenon had made immense promises to him, as well as to my son;
but, thank God, she kept neither the one nor the other.
It is intolerable that my son will go about day and night with that
wicked and impertinent Noce I hate that Noce as I hate the devil. He and
Brogue run all risks, because they are thus enabled to sponge upon my
son. It is said that Noce is jealous of Parabere, who has fallen in love
with some one else. This proves that my son is not jealous. The person
with whom she has fallen in love has long been a sort of adventurer: it
is Clermont, a captain in my son's Swiss Guard; the same who preferred
Chouin to the great Princesse de Conti. It is said that Noce utters
whatever comes into his head, and about any persons; this makes my son
laugh, and amuses him, for Noce has wit and can do this pleasantly,
enough. His father was under-governor to my son, who has thus been
accustomed from his infancy to this wicked rascal, and who is very fond
of him. I do not know for what reason, for he is a person who fears
neither God nor man, and has not a single good point about him; he is
green, black, and deep yellow; he is ten years older than my son; it is
incredible how many, millions this mercenary rogue has drawn from him.
Madame de Berri has told me that Broglie's jokes consist only in saying
openly, the most horrible things. The Broglii are of Italian extraction,
but have been long settled in France. There were three brothers, the
elder of whom died in the army; the second was an Abbe, but he cast aside
his gown, and he is the knave of whom I have been speaking. The third is
still serving in the army, and, according to common report, is one of the
best gentlemen in the world. My son does not like him so well as his
good-for-nothing brother, because he is too serious, and would not become
his buffoon. My son excuses himself by saying that when he quits
business he wants something to make him laugh, and that young Broglie is
not old enough for this; that if he had a confidential business, or a
warlike expedition to perform, he would prefer him; but that for laughing
and dissipation of all sorts, his elder brother is more fit.
My son has three natural children, two boys and a girl, of whom only one
has been legitimated; that is his son by Mademoiselle de Seri,
[N. de Seri de la Boissiere; the father had been ambassador in
Holland. Mademoiselle de Seri was the Regent's first mistress; he
gave her the title of Comtesse d'Argenton. Her son, the Chevalier
d'Orleans, was Grand-Prieur of France.]
who was my Maid of Honour; she was genteel and gay, but not pretty nor of
a good figure. This son was called the Chevalier d'Orleans. The other,
who is now a lad of eighteen years, is the Abbe de Saint Albin; he had
this child by Florence, an opera dancer, of a very neat figure, but a
fool; although to look at her pretty face one would not have thought so.
She is since dead. The third of my son's illegitimate children is a girl
of fourteen years old, whom he had by Desmarets, an actress, who is still
on the stage. This child has been educated at a convent at Saint Denis,
but has not much inclination for a monastic life. When my son sent for
her she did not know who she was.
Desmarets wanted to lay another child to my son's account; but he
replied, "No, that child is too much of a harlequin."
When some one asked him what he meant, he said it was of so many
different pieces, and therefore he renounced it.
I do not know whether the mother did not afterwards give it to the
Elector of Bavaria, who had some share in it, and who sacrificed to her
the most beautiful snuff-box that ever was seen; it was covered with
large diamonds.
My first son was called the Duc de Valois; but as this name was one of
evil omen, Monsieur would not suffer my other son to be called so; he
took, therefore, the title of Duc de Chartres. After Monsieur's death
my son took the name of Orleans, and his son that of Chartres.
[Alesandre-Louis d'Orleans, Duc de Valois, died an infant on the
16th of March, 1676; the Regent was born on the 4th of August, 1674.
It is unnecessary to mention the unhappy ends of Henri III. and of
the three Kings, his sons, who all died without issue.]
My son is too much prejudiced in favour of his nation; and although he
sees daily that his countrymen are false and treacherous, he believes
there is no nation comparable to them. He is not very lavish of his
praise; and when he does approve of anything his sincerity gives it an
additional value.
As he is now in his forty-second year the people of Paris do not forgive
him for running about at balls, like a young fool, for the amusement of
women, when he has the cares of the kingdom upon his shoulders. When the
late King ascended the throne he had reason to take his diversion; it is
not so now. Night and day it is necessary to labour in order to repair
the mischief which the late King, or rather his Ministers, did to the
country.
When my son gently reproached that old Maintenon for having maligned him,
and asked her to put her hand upon her heart, and say whether her
calumnies were true, she replied, "I said it because I believed it."
My son replied, "You could not believe it, because you knew the
contrary."
She said arrogantly, and yet my son kept his temper, "Is not the Dauphine
dead?"
"Is it my fault," he rejoined, "that she is dead? Was she immortal?"
"Well," she replied, "I was so much distressed at the loss that I could
not help detesting him whom I was told was the cause of it."
"But, Madame," said my son, "you know, from the report which has been
made to the King, that I was not the cause, and that the Dauphine was not
poisoned."
"I do know it," she replied, "and I will say nothing more about it."