I have already shown in these memoirs, that the late King had made of the
lieutenant of police a species of secret and confidential minister; a
sort of inquisitor, with important powers that brought him in constant
relation with the King. The Regent, with less authority than the
deceased monarch, and with more reasons than he to be well informed of
everything passing, intrigues included, found occupying this office of
lieutenant of police, Argenson, who had gained his good graces chiefly,
I fancy, when the affair of the cordelier was on the carpet, as shown in
its place. Argenson, who had much intelligence, and who had desired this
post as the entry, the basis, and the road of his fortune, filled it in a
very superior manner, and the Regent made use of him with much liberty.
The Parliament, very ready to show the extent of its authority
everywhere, at the least as though in competition with that of the
Regent, suffered impatiently what it called the encroachments of the
Court. It wished to indemnify itself for the silence it had been
compelled to keep thereon under the last reign, and to re-obtain at the
expense of the Regent all it had lost of its authority over the police,
of which it is the head. The lieutenant of police is answerable to this
body--even receives his orders from it, and its reprimands (in public
audiences, standing uncovered at the bar of the Parliament) from the
mouth of the Chief-President, or of him who presides, and who calls him
neither Master nor Monsieur, but nakedly by his name, although the
lieutenant of police might have claimed these titles, being then
Councillor of State.
The Parliament wished, then, to humiliate Argenson (whom it hated during
the time of the deceased King); to give a disagreeable lesson to the
Regent; to prepare worse treatment still for his lieutenant of police; to
make parade of its power, to terrify thus the public, and arrogate to
itself the right of limiting the authority of the Regent.
Argenson had often during the late reign, and sometimes since, made use
of an intelligent and clever fellow, just suited to him, and named
Pomereu, to make discoveries, arrest people, and occasionally keep them a
short time in his own house. The Parliament believed, and rightly, that
in arresting this man under other pretexts, it would find the thread of
many curious and secret tortuosities, which would aid its design, and
that it might plume itself upon protecting the public safety against the
tyranny of secret arrests and private imprisonments. To carry out its
aim it made use of the Chamber of justice, so as to appear as little as
possible in the matter. This Chamber hastened on so well the
proceedings, for fear of being stopped on the road, that the first hint
people had of them was on learning that Pomereu was, by decree of this
Chamber, in the prisons of the Conciergerie, which are those of the
Parliament. Argenson, who was informed of this imprisonment immediately
it took place, instantly went to the Regent, who that very moment sent a
'lettre de cachet', ordering Pomereu to be taken from prison by force if
the gaoler made the slightest difficulty in giving him up to the bearers
of the 'lettre de cachet'; but that gentleman did not dare to make any.
The execution was so prompt that this man was not an hour in prison, and
they who had sent him there had not time to seize upon a box of papers
which had been transported with him to the Conciergerie, and which was
very carefully carried away with him. At the same time, everything in
any way bearing upon Pomereu, or upon the things in which he had been
employed, was carefully removed and secreted.
The vexation of the Parliament upon seeing its prey, which it had
reckoned upon making such a grand use of, carried off before its eyes,
may be imagined. It left nothing undone in order to move the public by
its complaints, and by its cries against such an attack upon law. The
Chamber of justice sent a deputation to the Regent, who made, fun of it,
by gravely giving permission to the deputies to re-take their prisoner,
but without saying a single word to them upon his escape from gaol. He
was in Paris, in a place where he feared nobody. The Chamber of justice
felt the derisiveness of the Regent's permission, and ceased to transact
business. It thought to embarrass the Regent thus, but 'twould have been
at its own expense. This lasted only a day or two. The Duc de Noailles
spoke to the Chamber; the members felt they could gain nothing by their
strike, and that if they were obstinate they would be dispensed with, and
others found to perform their duties. They recommenced their labours
then, and the Parliament gained nothing by its attack, but only showed
its ill-will, and at the same time its powerlessness.
I have forgotten something which, from its singularity, deserves
recollection, and I will relate it now lest it should escape me again.
One afternoon, as we were about to take our places at the regency
council, the Marechal de Villars drew me aside and asked me if I knew
that Marly was going to be destroyed. I replied, "No;" indeed, I had not
heard speak of it; and I added that I could not believe it. "You do not
approve of it?" said the Marechal. I assured him I was far from doing
so. He repeated that the destruction was resolved on, that he knew it
beyond all doubt, and that if I wished to hinder it, I had not a moment
to lose. I replied that when we took our places I would speak to M. le
Duc d'Orleans. "Immediately," quickly replied the Marechal; "speak to
him this instant, for the order is perhaps already given."
As all the council were already seated I went behind to M. le Duc
d'Orleans, and whispered in his ear what I had just learnt without naming
from whom, and begged him, if my information was right, to suspend
execution of his project until I had spoken to him, adding that I would
join him at the Palais Royal after the council. He stammered a little,
as if sorry at being discovered, but nevertheless agreed to wait for me:
I said so in leaving to the Marechal de Villars, and went to the Palais
Royal, where M. le Duc d'Orleans admitted the truth of the news I had
heard. I said I would not ask who had given such a pernicious counsel.
He tried to show it was good by pointing to the saving in keeping up that
would be obtained; to the gain that would accrue from the sale of so many
water-conduits and materials; to the unpleasant situation of a place to
which the King would not be able to go for several years; and to the
expense the King was put to in keeping up so many other beautiful houses,
not one of which admitted of pulling down.
I replied to him, that these were the reasons of the guardian of a
private gentleman that had been presented to him, the conduct of whom
could in no way resemble that of the guardian of a King of France; that
the expenses incurred in keeping up Marly were necessary, and that,
compared with the total of those of the King, they were but as drops in
the ocean. I begged him to get rid of the idea that the sale of the
materials would yield any profit,--all the receipts would go in gifts and
pillage, I said; and also that it was not these petty objects he ought to
regard, but that he should consider how many millions had been buried in
this ancient sewer, to transform it into a fairy palace, unique as to
form in all Europe--unique by the beauty of its fountains, unique also by
the reputation that the deceased King had given to it; and that it was an
object of curiosity to strangers of every rank who came to France; that
its destruction would resound throughout Europe with censure; that these
mean reasons of petty economy would not prevent all France from being
indignant at seeing so distinguished an ornament swept away; that
although neither he nor I might be very delicate upon what had been the
taste and the favourite work of the late King, the Regent ought to avoid
wounding his memory,--which by such a long reign, so many brilliant
years, so many grand reverses so heroically sustained, and escaped from
in so unhoped-for a manner--had left the entire world in veneration of
his person: in fine, that he might reckon all the discontented, all the
neutral even, would join in chorus with the Ancient Court, and cry
murder; that the Duc du Maine, Madame de Ventadour, the Marechal de
Villeroy would not hesitate to look upon the destruction of Marly as a
crime against the King,--a crime they would not fail to make the best of
for their own purposes during all the regency, and even after it was at
an end. I clearly saw that M. le Duc d'Orleans had not in the least
reflected upon all this. He agreed that I was right: promised that Marly
should not be touched, that it should continue to be kept up, and thanked
me for preserving him from this fault.
When I was well assured of him, "Admit," said I, "that the King, in the
other world, would be much astonished if he could know that the Duc de
Noailles had made you order the destruction of Marly, and that it was who
hindered it."
"Oh! as to that," he quickly replied, "it is true he could not believe
it." In effect Marly was preserved and kept up; and it is the Cardinal
Fleury, with his collegiate proctor's avarice, who has stripped it of its
river, which was its most superb charm.
I hastened to relate this good resolve to the Marechal de Villars.
The Duc de Noailles, who, for his own private reasons, had wished the
destruction of Marly, was furious when he saw his proposal fail.
To indemnify himself in some degree for his vexation, he made the Regent
agree, in the utmost secrecy, for fear of another failure, that all the
furniture, linen, etc., should be sold. He persuaded M. le Duc d'Orleans
that all these things would be spoiled and lost by the time the King was
old enough to use them; that in selling them a large sum would be gained
to relieve expenses; and that in future years the King could furnish
Marly as he pleased. There was an immense quantity of things sold, but
owing to favour and pillage they brought very little; and to replace them
afterwards, millions were spent. I did not know of this sale, at which
anybody bought who wished, and at very low prices, until it had
commenced; therefore I was unable to hinder this very damaging
parsimoniousness.
The Regent just about this time was bestowing his favours right and left
with a very prodigal hand; I thought, therefore, I was fully entitled to
ask him for one, which, during the previous reign, had been so rare, so
useful, and accordingly so difficult to obtain; I mean the right of
entering the King's room--the 'grandes entrees'--as it was called, and I
attained it at once.
Since the occasion offers, I may as well explain what are the different
sorts of entrees. The most precious are called the "grand," which give
the right to enter into all the retired places of the King's apartments,
whenever the grand chamberlain and the chief gentlemen of the chamber
enter. The importance of this privilege under a King who grants
audiences with difficulty, need not be insisted on. Enjoying it, you can
speak with him, tete-a-tete, whenever you please, without asking his
permission, and without the knowledge of others; you obtain a
familiarity, too, with him by being able to see him thus in private.
The offices which give this right are, those of grand chamberlain, of
first gentleman of the chamber, and of grand master of the wardrobe on
annual duty; the children, legitimate and illegitimate, of the King, and
the wives and husbands of the latter enjoy the same right. As for
Monsieur and M. le Duc d'Orleans they always had these entrees, and as
sons of France, were at liberty to enter and see the King at all hours,
but they did not abuse this privilege. The Duc du Maine and the Comte de
Toulouse had the same, which they availed themselves of unceasingly, but
by the back stairs.
The second entrees, simply called entrees, were purely personal; no
appointment or change gave them. They conferred the right to see the
King at his rising, after the grandes, and also to see him, but under
difficulties, during all the day and evening.
The last entrees are those called chamber entrees. They also give the
right to see the King at his rising, before the distinguished courtiers;
but no other privilege except to be present at the booting of the King.
This was the name employed when the King changed his coat, in going or
returning from hunting or a walk. At Marly, all who were staying there
by invitation, entered to see this ceremony without asking; elsewhere,
those who had not the entree were excluded. The first gentleman of the
chamber had the right, and used it sometimes, to admit four or five
persons at the most, to the "booting," if they asked, and provided they
were people of quality, or of some distinction.
Lastly, there were the entrees of the cabinet which gave you the right to
wait for the King there when he entered after rising, until he had given
orders for the day, and to pay your court to him, and to enter there when
he entered to change his coat. Beyond this, the privilege attached to
these admissions did not extend. The Cardinals and the Princes of the
blood had the entrees of the chamber and those of the cabinet, so had all
the chief officials.
I was the first who had the 'grandes entrees' from the Regent. D'Antin
asked for them next. Soon after, upon this example, they were accorded
to D'O. M. le Prince de Conti, the sole prince of the blood who had them
not, because he was the sole prince of the blood who did not come from
Madame de Montespan, received them next, and little by little the
privilege was completely prostituted as so many others were.
By extremely rare good fortune a servant employed in the diamond mines of
the Great Mogul found means to secrete about his person a diamond of
prodigious size, and what is more marvellous, to gain the seashore and
embark without being subjected to the rigid and not very delicate ordeal,
that all persons not above suspicion by their name or their occupation,
are compelled to submit to, ere leaving the country. He played his cards
so well, apparently, that he was not suspected of having been near the
mines, or of having had anything to do with the jewel trade. To complete
his good fortune he safely arrived in Europe with his diamond. He showed
it to several princes, none of whom were rich enough to buy, and carried
it at last to England, where the King admired it, but could not resolve
to purchase it. A model of it in crystal was made in England, and the
man, the diamond, and the model (perfectly resembling the original) were
introduced to Law, who proposed to the Regent that he should purchase the
jewel for the King. The price dismayed the Regent, who refused to buy.
Law, who had in many things much grandour of sentiment, came dispirited
to me, bringing the model. I thought, with him, that it was not
consistent with the greatness of a King of France to be repelled from the
purchase of an inestimable jewel, unique of its kind in the world, by the
mere consideration of price, and that the greater the number of
potentates who had not dared to think of it, the greater ought to be his
care not to let it escape him. Law, ravished to find me think in this
manner, begged me to speak to M. le Duc d'Orleans. The state of the
finances was an obstacle upon which the Regent much insisted. He feared
blame for making so considerable a purchase, while the most pressing
necessities could only be provided for with much trouble, and so many
people were of necessity kept in distress. I praised this sentiment,
but I said that he ought not to regard the greatest King of Europe as he
would a private gentleman, who would be very reprehensible if he threw
away 100,000 livres upon a fine diamond, while he owed many debts which
he could not pay: that he must consider the honour of the crown, and not
lose the occasion of obtaining, a priceless diamond which would efface
the lustre of all others in Europe: that it was a glory for his regency
which would last for ever; that whatever might be the state of the
finances the saving obtained by a refusal of the jewel would not much
relieve them, for it would be scarcely perceptible; in fact I did not
quit M. le Duc d'Orleans until he had promised that the diamond should be
bought.
Law, before speaking to me, had so strongly represented to the dealer the
impossibility of selling his diamond at the price he hoped for, and the
loss he would suffer in cutting it into different pieces, that at last he
made him reduce the price to two millions, with the scrapings, which must
necessarily be made in polishing, given in. The bargain was concluded on
these terms. The interest upon the two millions was paid to the dealer
until the principal could be given to him, and in the meanwhile two
millions' worth of jewels were handed to him as security.
M. le Duc d'Orleans was agreeably deceived by the applause that the
public gave to an acquisition so beautiful and so unique. This diamond
was called the "Regent." It is of the size of a greengage plum, nearly
round, of a thickness which corresponds with its volume, perfectly white,
free from all spot, speck, or blemish, of admirable water, and weighs
more than 500 grains. I much applauded myself for having induced the
Regent to make so illustrious a purchase.