All that was good in the first Dauphin came from his preceptor; all that
was bad from himself. He never either loved or hated any one much, and
yet he was very wicked. His greatest pleasure was to do something to vex
a person; and immediately afterwards, if he could do something very
pleasing to the same person, he would set about it with great
willingness. In every respect he was of the strangest temper possible:
when one thought he was good-humoured, he was angry; and when one
supposed him to be ill-humoured, he was in an amiable mood. No one could
ever guess him rightly, and I do not believe that his like ever was or
ever will be born. It cannot be said that he had much wit; but still
less was he a fool. Nobody was ever more prompt to seize the ridiculous
points of anything in himself or in others; he told stories agreeably;
he was a keen observer, and dreaded nothing so much as to be one day
King: not so much from affection for his father, as from a dread of the
trouble of reigning, for he was so extremely idle that he neglected all
things; and he would have preferred his ease to all the kingdoms and
empires of the earth. He could remain for a whole day, sitting on a sofa
or in an arm-chair, beating his cane against his shoes, without saying a
word; he never gave an opinion upon any subject; but when once, in the
course of the year, he did speak, he could express himself in terms
sufficiently noble. Sometimes when he spoke one would say he was
stupidity itself; at another time he would deliver himself with
astonishing sense. At one time you would think he was the best Prince in
the world; at another he would do all he could to give people pain.
Nobody seemed to be so ill with him but he would take the trouble of
making them laugh at the expense of those most dear to him. His maxim
was, never to seem to like one man in the Court better than another.
He had a perfect horror of favourites, and yet he sought favour himself
as much as the commonest courtier could do. He did not pride himself
upon his politeness, and was enraged when any one penetrated his
intentions. As I had known him from his infancy I could sometimes guess
his meaning, which angered him excessively. He was not very fond of
being treated respectfully; he liked better not to be put to any trouble.
He was rather partial than just, as may be shown by the regulations he
made as to the rank of my son's daughter. He never liked or hated any
Minister. He laughed often and heartily. He was a very obedient son,
and never opposed the King's will in any way, and was more submissive to
Maintenon than any other person. Those who say that he would have
retired, if the King had declared his marriage with that old woman, did
not know him; had he not an old mistress of his own, to whom he was
believed to be privately married? What prevented Maintenon from being
declared Queen was the wise reasons which the Archbishop of Cambray, M.
de Fenelon, urged to the King, and for which she persecuted that worthy
man to the day of his death.
If the Dauphin had chosen, he might have enjoyed greater credit with his
father. The King had offered him permission to go to the Royal Treasury
to bestow what favours he chose upon the persons of his own Court; and at
the Treasury orders were given that he should have whatever he asked for.
The Dauphin replied that it would give him so much trouble. He would
never know anything about State affairs lest he should be obliged to
attend the Privy Councils, and have no more time to hunt. Some persons
thought he did this from motives of policy and to make the King believe
he had no ambition; but I am persuaded it was from nothing but indolence
and laziness; he loved to live a slothful life, and to interfere with
nothing.
At the King of Spain's departure our King wept a good deal; the Dauphin
also wept much, although he had never before manifested the least
affection for his children. They were never seen in his apartment
morning and evening. When he was not at the chase the Dauphin passed his
time with the great Princesse de Conti, and latterly with the Duchess.
One must have guessed that the children belonged to him, for he lived
like a stranger among them. He never called them his sons, but the Duke
of Burgundy, the Duc d'Anjou, the Duc de Berri; and they, in turn, always
called him Monseigneur.
I lived upon a very good understanding with him for more than twenty
years, and he had great confidence in me until the Duchess got possession
of him; then everything with regard to me was changed: and as, after my
husband's death, I never went to the chase with the Dauphin, I had no
further relation with him, and he behaved as if he had never seen or
known me. If he had been wise he would have preferred the society of the
Princesse de Conti to that of the Duchess, because the first, having a
good heart, loved him for himself; while the other loved nothing in the
world, and listened to nothing but her taste for pleasure, her interest,
and her ambition. So that, provided she attained her ends, she cared
little for the Dauphin, who by his condescension for this Princess gave a
great proof of weakness.
In general, his heart was not correct enough to discern what real
friendship was; he loved only those who afforded him amusement, and
despised all others. The Duchess was very agreeable and had some
pleasant notions; she was fond of eating, which was the very thing for
the Dauphin, because he found a good breakfast at her house every morning
and a collation in the afternoon. The Duchess's daughters were of the
same character as their mother; so that the Dauphin might be all the day
in the company of gay people.
He was strongly attached to his son's wife; but when she quarrelled with
the Duchess her father-in-law changed his opinion of her. What
displeased him besides was that the Duchess of Burgundy married his
younger son, the Duc de Berri, against his inclination. He was not wrong
in that, because, although the marriage was to our advantage, I must
confess that the Dauphin was not even treated with decency in the
business.
Neither of the two Dauphins or the Dauphines ever interested themselves
much about their children. The King had them educated without consulting
them, appointed all their servants, and was even displeased if they
interfered with them in any way. The Dauphin knows nothing of good
breeding; he and his sons are perfect clowns.
The women of La Halle had a real passion for the first Dauphin; they had
been made to believe that he would take the part of the people of Paris,
in which there was not a word of truth. The people believed that he was
better hearted than he was. He would not, in fact, have been wicked if
the Marechal d'Uxelles, La Chouin and Montespan, with whom he was in his
youth, as well as the Duchess, had not spoiled him, and made him believe
that malice was a proof of wit.
He did not grieve more than a quarter of an hour at the death of his
mother or of his wife; and when he wrapped himself up in his long
mourning cloak he was ready to choke with laughter.
He had followed his father's example in taking an ugly, nasty mistress,
who had been fille d'honneur to the elder Princess de Conti: her name is
Mademoiselle de Chouin, and she is still living at Paris (1719). It was
generally believed that he had married her clandestinely; but I would lay
a wager he never did. She had the figure of a duenna; was of very small
stature; had very short legs; large rolling eyes; a round face; a short
turned-up nose; a large mouth filled with decayed teeth, which made her
breath so bad that the room in which she sat could hardly be endured.
.........................
And yet this short, fat woman had a great deal of wit; and I believe the
Dauphin accustomed himself to take snuff that he might not be annoyed by
her bad teeth. He was very civil to the Marechal d'Uxelles, because he
pretended to be the intimate with this lady; but as soon as the Dauphin
was caught, the Marechal ceased to see her, and never once set foot in
her house, although before that he had been in the habit of visiting her
daily.
The Dauphin had a daughter by Raisin the actress, but he would never
acknowledge her, and after his death the Princess Conti took care of her,
and married her to a gentleman of Vaugourg. The Dauphin was so tired of
the Duc du Maine that he had sworn never to acknowledge any of his
illegitimate children. This Raisin must have had very peculiar charms to
make an impression upon a heart so thick as that of the Dauphin, who
really loved her. One day he sent for her to Choisy, and hid her in a
mill without anything to eat or drink; for it was a fast day, and the
Dauphin thought there was no greater sin than to eat meat on a fast day.
After the Court had departed, all that he gave her for supper was some
salad and toast with oil. Raisin laughed at this very much herself, and
told several persons of it. When I heard of it I asked the Dauphin what
he meant by making his mistress fast in this manner.
"I had a mind," he said, "to commit one sin, but not two."
I cannot bear that any one should touch me behind; it makes me so angry
that I do not know what I do. I was very near giving the Dauphin a blow
one day, for he had a wicked trick of coming behind one for a joke, and
putting his fist in the chair just where one was going to sit down. I
begged him, for God's sake, to leave off this habit, which was so
disagreeable to me that I would not answer for not one day giving him a
sound blow, without thinking of what I was doing. From that time he left
me alone.
The Dauphin was very much like the Queen; he was not tall, but
good-looking enough. Our King was accustomed to say: "Monseigneur (for
so he always called him) has the look of a German prince." He had,
indeed, something of a German air; but it was only the air; for he had
nothing German besides. He did not dance well. The Queen-Dowager of
Spain flattered herself with the hope of marrying him.
He thought he should recommend himself to the King by not appearing to
care what became of his brothers.
When the Dauphin was lying sick of the small-pox, I went on the Wednesday
to the King.
He said to me, sarcastically, "You have been frightening us with the
great pain which Monseigneur would have to endure when the suppuration
commences; but I can tell you that he will not suffer at all, for the
pustules have already begun to dry."
I was alarmed at this, and said, "So much the worse; if he is not in pain
his state is the more dangerous, and he soon will be."
"What!" said the King, "do you know better than the doctors?"
"I know," I replied, "what the small-pox is by my own experience, which
is better than all the doctors; but I hope from my heart that I may be
mistaken."
On the same night, soon after midnight, the Dauphin died.