which had smitten his countrymen, that he never could speak with temper on
the subject. Passing one day through the Place Vendôme in his carriage,
the choleric gentleman was so annoyed at the infatuation of the people,
that he abruptly ordered his coachman to stop, and, putting his head out
of the carriage window, harangued them for full half an hour on their
"disgusting avarice." This was not a very wise proceeding on his part.
Hisses and shouts of laughter resounded from every side, and jokes without
number were aimed at him. There being at last strong symptoms that
something more tangible was flying through the air in the direction of his
head, the marshal was glad to drive on. He never again repeated the
experiment.
Two sober, quiet, and philosophic men of letters, M. de la Motte and the
Abbé Terrason, congratulated each other, that they, at least, were free
from this strange infatuation. A few days afterwards, as the worthy abbé
was coming out of the Hôtel de Soissons, whither he had gone to buy shares
in the Mississippi, whom should he see but his friend La Motte entering
for the same purpose. "Ha!" said the abbé smiling, "is that _you_?" "Yes,"
said La Motte, pushing past him as fast as he was able; "and can that be
_you_?" The next time the two scholars met, they talked of philosophy, of
science, and of religion, but neither had courage for a long time to
breathe one syllable about the Mississippi. At last, when it was
mentioned, they agreed that a man ought never to swear against his doing
any one thing, and that there was no sort of extravagance of which even a
wise man was not capable.
During this time, Law, the new Plutus, had become all at once the most
important personage of the state. The ante-chambers of the regent were
forsaken by the courtiers, Peers, judges, and bishops thronged to the
Hôtel de Soissons; officers of the army and navy, ladies of title and
fashion, and every one to whom hereditary rank or public employ gave a
claim to precedence, were to be found waiting in his ante-chambers to beg
for a portion of his India stock. Law was so pestered that he was unable
to see one-tenth part of the applicants, and every manoeuvre that
ingenuity could suggest was employed to gain access to him. Peers, whose
dignity would have been outraged if the regent had made them wait half an
hour for an interview, were content to wait six hours for the chance of
seeing Monsieur Law. Enormous fees were paid to his servants, if they
would merely announce their names. Ladies of rank employed the
blandishments of their smiles for the same object; but many of them came
day after day for a fortnight before they could obtain an audience. When
Law accepted an invitation, he was sometimes so surrounded by ladies, all
asking to have their names put down in his lists as shareholders in the
new stock, that, in spite of his well-known and habitual gallantry, he was
obliged to tear himself away _par force_. The most ludicrous stratagems
were employed to have an opportunity of speaking to him. One lady, who had
striven in vain during several days, gave up in despair all attempts to
see him at his own house, but ordered her coachman to keep a strict watch
whenever she was out in her carriage, and if he saw Mr. Law coming, to
drive against a post and upset her. The coachman promised obedience, and
for three days the lady was driven incessantly through the town, praying
inwardly for the opportunity to be overturned. At last she espied Mr. Law,
and, pulling the string, called out to the coachman, "Upset us now! for
God's sake, upset us now!" The coachman drove against a post, the lady
screamed, the coach was overturned, and Law, who had seen the _accident_,
hastened to the spot to render assistance. The cunning dame was led into
the Hôtel de Soissons, where she soon thought it advisable to recover from
her fright, and, after apologising to Mr. Law, confessed her stratagem.
Law smiled, and entered the lady in his books as the purchaser of a
quantity of India stock. Another story is told of a Madame de Boucha, who,
knowing that Mr. Law was at dinner at a certain house, proceeded thither
in her carriage, and gave the alarm of fire. The company started from
table, and Law among the rest; but, seeing one lady making all haste into
the house towards him, while every body else was scampering away, he
suspected the trick, and ran off in another direction.
[Illustration]
Many other anecdotes are related, which even though they may be a little
exaggerated, are nevertheless worth preserving, as shewing the spirit of
that singular period.[7] The regent was one day mentioning, in the
presence of D'Argenson, the Abbé Dubois, and some other persons, that he
was desirous of deputing some lady, of the rank at least of a duchess, to
attend upon his daughter at Modena; "but," added he, "I do not exactly
know where to find one." "No!" replied one, in affected surprise; "I can
tell you where to find every duchess in France: you have only to go to Mr.
Law's; you will see them every one in his ante-chamber."
[7] The curious reader may find an anecdote of the eagerness of
the French ladies to retain Law in their company, which will
make him blush or smile according as he happens to be very
modest or the reverse. It is related in the _Letters of Madame
Charlotte Elizabeth de Bavière, Duchess of Orleans_, vol. ii.
p. 274.
M. de Chirac, a celebrated physician, had bought stock at an unlucky
period, and was very anxious to sell out. Stock, however, continued to
fall for two or three days, much to his alarm. His mind was filled with
the subject, when he was suddenly called upon to attend a lady who
imagined herself unwell. He arrived, was shewn up stairs, and felt the
lady's pulse. "It falls! it falls! good God! it falls continually!" said
he musingly, while the lady looked up in his face all anxiety for his
opinion. "Oh, M. de Chirac," said she, starting to her feet and ringing
the bell for assistance; "I am dying! I am dying! it falls! it falls! it
falls!" "What falls?" inquired the doctor in amazement. "My pulse! my
pulse!" said the lady; "I must be dying." "Calm your apprehensions, my
dear madam," said M. de Chirac; "I was speaking of the stocks. The truth
is, I have been a great loser, and my mind is so disturbed, I hardly know
what I have been saying."
The price of shares sometimes rose ten or twenty per cent in the course of
a few hours, and many persons in the humbler walks of life, who had risen
poor in the morning, went to bed in affluence. An extensive holder of
stock, being taken ill, sent his servant to sell two hundred and fifty
shares, at eight thousand livres each, the price at which they were then
quoted. The servant went, and, on his arrival in the Jardin de Soissons,
found that in the interval the price had risen to ten thousand livres. The
difference of two thousand livres on the two hundred and fifty shares,
amounting to 500,000 livres, or 20,000l. sterling, he very coolly
transferred to his own use, and giving the remainder to his master, set
out the same evening for another country. Law's coachman in a very short
time made money enough to set up a carriage of his own, and requested
permission to leave his service. Law, who esteemed the man, begged of him
as a favour, that he would endeavour, before he went, to find a substitute
as good as himself. The coachman consented, and in the evening brought two
of his former comrades, telling Mr. Law to choose between them, and he
would take the other. Cookmaids and footmen were now and then as lucky,
and, in the full-blown pride of their easily-acquired wealth, made the
most ridiculous mistakes. Preserving the language and manners of their
old, with the finery of their new station, they afforded continual
subjects for the pity of the sensible, the contempt of the sober, and the
laughter of every body. But the folly and meanness of the higher ranks of
society were still more disgusting. One instance alone, related by the
Duke de St. Simon, will shew the unworthy avarice which infected the whole
of society. A man of the name of André, without character or education,
had, by a series of well-timed speculations in Mississippi bonds, gained
enormous wealth in an incredibly short space of time. As St. Simon
expresses it, "he had amassed mountains of gold." As he became rich, he
grew ashamed of the lowness of his birth, and anxious above all things to
be allied to nobility. He had a daughter, an infant only three years of
age, and he opened a negotiation with the aristocratic and needy family of
D'Oyse, that this child should, upon certain conditions, marry a member of
that house. The Marquis D'Oyse, to his shame, consented, and promised to
marry her himself on her attaining the age of twelve, if the father would
pay him down the sum of a hundred thousand crowns, and twenty thousand
livres every year until the celebration of the marriage. The marquis was
himself in his thirty-third year. This scandalous bargain was duly signed
and sealed, the stockjobber furthermore agreeing to settle upon his
daughter, on the marriage-day, a fortune of several millions. The Duke of
Brancas, the head of the family, was present throughout the negotiation,
and shared in all the profits. St. Simon, who treats the matter with the
levity becoming what he thought so good a joke, adds, "that people did not
spare their animadversions on this beautiful marriage," and further
informs us, "that the project fell to the ground some months afterwards by
the overthrow of Law, and the ruin of the ambitious Monsieur André." It
would appear, however, that the noble family never had the honesty to
return the hundred thousand crowns.
Amid events like these, which, humiliating though they be, partake largely
of the ludicrous, others occurred of a more serious nature. Robberies in
the streets were of daily occurrence, in consequence of the immense sums,
in paper, which people carried about with them. Assassinations were also
frequent. One case in particular fixed the attention of the whole of
France, not only on account of the enormity of the offence, but of the
rank and high connexions of the criminal.
[Illustration]
The Count d'Horn, a younger brother of the Prince d'Horn, and related to
the noble families of D'Aremberg, De Ligne, and De Montmorency, was a
young man of dissipated character, extravagant to a degree, and
unprincipled as he was extravagant. In connexion with two other young men
as reckless as himself, named Mille, a Piedmontese captain, and one
Destampes, or Lestang, a Fleming, he formed a design to rob a very rich
broker, who was known, unfortunately for himself, to carry great sums
about his person. The count pretended a desire to purchase of him a number
of shares in the Company of the Indies, and for that purpose appointed to
meet him in a _cabaret_, or low public-house, in the neighbourhood of the
Place Vendôme. The unsuspecting broker was punctual to his appointment; so
were the Count d'Horn and his two associates, whom he introduced as his
particular friends. After a few moments' conversation, the Count d'Horn
suddenly sprang upon his victim, and stabbed him three times in the breast
with a poniard. The man fell heavily to the ground, and, while the count
was employed in rifling his portfolio of bonds in the Mississippi and
Indian schemes to the amount of one hundred thousand crowns, Mille, the
Piedmontese, stabbed the unfortunate broker again and again, to make sure
of his death, But the broker did not fall without a struggle, and his
cries brought the people of the _cabaret_ to his assistance. Lestang, the
other assassin, who had been set to keep watch at a staircase, sprang from
a window and escaped; but Mille and the Count d'Horn were seized in the
very act.
This crime, committed in open day, and in so public a place as a
_cabaret_, filled Paris with consternation. The trial of the assassins
commenced on the following day; and the evidence being so clear, they were
both found guilty, and condemned, to be broken alive on the wheel. The
noble relatives of the Count d'Horn absolutely blocked up the
ante-chambers of the regent, praying for mercy on the misguided youth, and
alleging that he was insane. The regent avoided them as long as possible,
being determined that, in a case so atrocious, justice should take its
course. But the importunity of these influential suitors was not to be
overcome so silently; and they at last forced themselves into the presence
of the regent, and prayed him to save their house the shame of a public
execution. They hinted that the Princes d'Horn were allied to the
illustrious family of Orleans; and added, that the regent himself would be
disgraced if a kinsman of his should die by the hands of a common
executioner. The regent, to his credit, was proof against all their
solicitations, and replied to their last argument in the words of
Corneille:
"Le crime fait la honte, et non pas l'échafaud:"
adding, that whatever shame there might be in the punishment he would very
willingly share with the other relatives. Day after day they renewed their
entreaties, but always with the same result. At last they thought, that if
they could interest the Duke de St. Simon in their favour--a man, for whom
the regent felt sincere esteem--they might succeed in their object. The
duke, a thorough aristocrat, was as shocked as they were that a noble
assassin should die by the same death as a plebeian felon, and represented
to the regent the impolicy of making enemies of so numerous, wealthy, and
powerful a family. He urged, too, that in Germany, where the family of
D'Aremberg had large possessions, it was the law, that no relative of a
person broken on the wheel could succeed to any public office or employ
until a whole generation had passed away. For this reason, he thought the
punishment of the guilty count might be transmuted into beheading, which
was considered all over Europe as much less infamous. The regent was moved
by this argument, and was about to consent, when Law, who felt peculiarly
interested in the fate of the murdered man, confirmed him in his former
resolution to let the law take its course.
The relatives of D'Horn were now reduced to the last extremity. The Prince
de Robec Montmorency, despairing of other methods, found means to
penetrate into the dungeon of the criminal, and offering him a cup of
poison, implored him to save them from disgrace. The Count d'Horn turned
away his head, and refused to take it. Montmorency pressed him once more;
and losing all patience at his continued refusal, turned on his heel, and
exclaiming, "Die, then, as thou wilt, mean-spirited wretch! thou art fit
only to perish by the hands of the hangman!" left him to his fate.
D'Horn himself petitioned the regent that he might be beheaded; but Law,
who exercised more influence over his mind than any other person, with the
exception of the notorious Abbé Dubois, his tutor, insisted that he could
not in justice succumb to the self-interested views of the D'Horns. The
regent had from the first been of the same opinion; and within six days
after the commission of their crime, D'Horn and Mille were broken on the
wheel in the Place de Grève. The other assassin, Lestang, was never
apprehended.
This prompt and severe justice was highly pleasing to the populace of
Paris. Even M. de Quincampoix, as they called Law, came in for a share of
their approbation for having induced the regent to shew no favour to a
patrician. But the number of robberies and assassinations did not
diminish; no sympathy was shewn for rich jobbers when they were plundered.
The general laxity of public morals, conspicuous enough before, was
rendered still more so by its rapid pervasion of the middle classes, who
had hitherto remained comparatively pure between the open vices of the
class above and the hidden crimes of the class below them. The pernicious
love of gambling diffused itself through society, and bore all public and
nearly all private virtue before it.
For a time, while confidence lasted, an impetus was given to trade which
could not fail to be beneficial. In Paris especially the good results were
felt. Strangers flocked into the capital from every part, bent not only
upon making money, but on spending it. The Duchess of Orleans, mother of
the regent, computes the increase of the population during this time, from
the great influx of strangers from all parts of the world, at 305,000
souls. The housekeepers were obliged to make up beds in garrets, kitchens,
and even stables, for the accommodation of lodgers; and the town was so
full of carriages and vehicles of every description, that they were
obliged, in the principal streets, to drive at a foot-pace for fear of
accidents. The looms of the country worked with unusual activity to supply
rich laces, silks, broad-cloth, and velvets, which being paid for in
abundant paper, increased in price four-fold. Provisions shared the
general advance. Bread, meat, and vegetables were sold at prices greater
than had ever before been known; while the wages of labour rose in exactly
the same proportion. The artisan who formerly gained fifteen sous per diem
now gained sixty. New houses were built in every direction; an illusory
prosperity shone over the land, and so dazzled the eyes of the whole
nation, that none could see the dark cloud on the horizon announcing the
storm that was too rapidly approaching.
Law himself, the magician whose wand had wrought so surprising a change,
shared, of course, in the general prosperity. His wife and daughter were
courted by the highest nobility, and their alliance sought by the heirs of
ducal and princely houses. He bought two splendid estates in different
parts of France, and entered into a negotiation with the family of the
Duke de Sully for the purchase of the marquisate of Rosny. His religion
being an obstacle to his advancement, the regent promised, if he would
publicly conform to the Catholic faith, to make him comptroller-general of
the finances. Law, who had no more real religion than any other professed
gambler, readily agreed, and was confirmed by the Abbé de Tencin in the
cathedral of Melun, in presence of a great crowd of spectators[8]. On
the following day he was elected honorary churchwarden of the parish of
St. Roch, upon which occasion he made it a present of the sum of five
hundred thousand livres. His charities, always magnificent, were not
always so ostentatious. He gave away great sums privately, and no tale of
real distress ever reached his ears in vain.
[8] The following squib was circulated on the occasion:
"Foin de ton zèle séraphique,
Malheureux Abbé de Tencin,
Depuis que Law est Catholique,
Tout le royaume est Capucin!"
Thus somewhat weakly and paraphrastically rendered by
Justandsond, in his translation of the _Memoirs of Louis XV._:
"Tencin, a curse on thy seraphic zeal,
Which by persuasion hath contrived the means
To make the Scotchman at our altars kneel,
Since which we all are poor as Capucines!"
At this time he was by far the most influential person of the state. The
Duke of Orleans had so much confidence in his sagacity and the success of
his plans, that he always consulted him upon every matter of moment. He
was by no means unduly elevated by his prosperity, but remained the same
simple, affable, sensible man that he had shewn himself in adversity. His
gallantry, which was always delightful to the fair objects of it, was of a
nature so kind, so gentlemanly, and so respectful, that not even a lover
could have taken offence at it. If upon any occasion he shewed any
symptoms of haughtiness, it was to the cringing nobles who lavished their
adulation upon him till it became fulsome. He often took pleasure in
seeing how long he could make them dance attendance upon him for a single
favour. To such of his own countrymen as by chance visited Paris, and
sought an interview with him, he was, on the contrary, all politeness and
attention. When Archibald Campbell, Earl of Islay, and afterwards Duke of
Argyle, called upon him in the Place Vendôme, he had to pass through an
ante-chamber crowded with persons of the first distinction, all anxious to
see the great financier, and have their names put down as first on the
list of some new subscription. Law himself was quietly sitting in his
library, writing a letter to the gardener at his paternal estate of
Lauriston about the planting of some cabbages! The earl stayed for a
considerable time, played a game of piquet with his countryman, and left
him, charmed with his ease, good sense, and good breeding.
[Illustration: LAW AS ATLAS.[9]]
[9] From a print in a Dutch collection of satirical prints
relating to the Mississippi Mania, entitled "Het groote
Tafereel der Dwaasheid;" or, The great picture of Folly. The
print of Atlas is styled, "L'Atlas actieux de Papier." Law is
calling in Hercules to aid him in supporting the globe. Quoted
in Wright's _England under the House of Hanover_.
Among the nobles who, by means of the public credulity at this time,
gained sums sufficient to repair their ruined fortunes, may be mentioned
the names of the Dukes de Bourbon, de Guiche, de la Force,[10] de
Chaulnes, and d'Antin; the Marechal d'Estrées; the Princes de Rohan, de
Poix, and de Léon. The Duke de Bourbon, son of Louis XIV. by Madame de
Montespan, was peculiarly fortunate in his speculations in Mississippi
paper. He rebuilt the royal residence of Chantilly in a style of unwonted
magnificence; and being passionately fond of horses, he erected a range of
stables, which were long renowned throughout Europe, and imported a
hundred and fifty of the finest racers from England to improve the breed
in France. He bought a large extent of country in Picardy, and became
possessed of nearly all the valuable lands lying between the Oise and the
Somme.
[10] The Duke de la Force gained considerable sums, not only by
jobbing in the stocks, but in dealing in porcelain, spices,
&c. It was debated for a length of time in the parliament of
Paris whether he had not, in his quality of spice-merchant,
forfeited his rank in the peerage. It was decided in the
negative. A caricature of him was made, dressed as a
street-porter, carrying a large bale of spices on his back,
with the inscription, "Admirez LA FORCE."
When fortunes such as these were gained, it is no wonder that Law should
have been almost worshipped by the mercurial population. Never was monarch
more flattered than he was. All the small poets and _littérateurs_ of the
day poured floods of adulation upon him. According to them, he was the
saviour of the country, the tutelary divinity of France; wit was in all
his words, goodness in all his looks, and wisdom in all his actions. So
great a crowd followed his carriage whenever he went abroad, that the
regent sent him a troop of horse as his permanent escort to clear the
streets before him.