THE MEMOIRS 
 
 DUKE OF SAINT SIMON 
 
 ON THE REIGN OF LOUIS XIV. AND THE 
 EEGENCY. 
 
 ABRIDGED FROM THE FRENCH. 
 
 BAYLE ST. JOHN. 
 
 FIRST SERIES. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 CHAPMAN & HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 
 
 1857,
 
 LONDON : 
 BUADBVRY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIAR8.
 
 STACK 
 ANNEX 
 
 DO 
 A30 
 
 v./ 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 THE Memoirs of the Duke of St. Simon, an abridg- 
 ment of which is here presented to the public, occupy 
 now by common consent a very high position in 
 French literature. No work of a similar kind has 
 ever probably been so popular; and in many respects 
 it deserves its reputation. It forms a perfect panora- 
 mic picture, highly finished in all its details, of tbe 
 the Court of Louis XIV. during the last twenty years 
 of his reign ; and of the period of the Regency. St. 
 Simon was, to a certain extent, an actor in the in- 
 trigues he describes at any rate, always sufficiently 
 near to see their development and be acquainted with 
 their promoters. Keen criticism, stimulated by the 
 family pride of persons of whom he has spoken ill, 
 has detected in him a few errors inevitable in so 
 vast an undertaking ; but none that are wilful, or cal- 
 culated to disturb him from his place as an authority. 
 
 St. Simon was the son of a Duke and Peer of 
 France ; and early became a duke and peer himself. 
 He says scarcely anything about his childhood, and we 
 never seem to feel the omission. He gives us the 
 idea of never having been young. There is a gravity
 
 VI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 and earnestness even in his most trivial recitals 
 except when he allows his strong natural humour 
 to break forth that appear to belong to a character 
 ripe and mature from the very first. He does indeed 
 talk of having played with the Due de Chartres ; but 
 if the young prince played, we may be sure the future 
 memoir-writer even then noted his movements and 
 counted his steps. 
 
 The army was the first scene of St. Simon's worldly 
 experience. When very young he entered the King's 
 Musketeers ; and in time rose to the command of a 
 regiment. He served in more than one campaign, and 
 appeal's to have discharged his duties conscientiously 
 and well. While still in the camp he began to note 
 down in a journal the events that were occurring 
 around him, incited to do so by the pleasure he had 
 received in reading the Memoirs of the Marechal de 
 Bassonipierre. Even at this early time it is evident 
 that he was endowed with a rare power of observation, 
 and good natural sagacity ; and with a certain rigidity 
 of opinion which prevented him from much sharing 
 the vices with which he came in contact. 
 
 St. Simon's military career did not last long. He 
 had served no more than five years when the peace of 
 Ryswick was signed; and the field never saw him 
 again. The great war of the Spanish Succession 
 began in 1702, and nearly all Europe was involved in 
 it, until the treaty of Utrecht decided the question at 
 issue ; but St. Simon, being deprived of the promo- 
 tion he thought himself entitled to, resigned his rank. 
 In this, doubtless, he acted wisely. He seems to have
 
 INTRODUCTION. Vll 
 
 had no special predilection for a military life never 
 speaks of his interrupted career with soldierly regret 
 
 does not even imply that he had talent in that 
 direction. The Court, not the camp, claimed him. 
 He was formed to move, not amidst helmets and 
 plumes, but amidst powdered wigs and gold-headed 
 canes to wander observant amidst fans and hoops, 
 not tents and trenches. In that sphere, looking on 
 at the intrigues and schemes that thickened or dis- 
 persed around him, joining in them himself when a 
 friend was to be served for St. Simon was evidently 
 capable of friendship or an enemy to be thwarted, 
 he was equally capable of enmity ; maintaining him- 
 self in intimacy with most of the courtiers whose views 
 were in harmony with his own, and with many whose 
 views were very different ; fighting for the rights and 
 dignity of his order with the tenacity of a man who 
 regards them almost as passports to eternal salvation, 
 and who sees that in the confusion of new grades 
 and unusual privileges arising, he and his fellows 
 are counting for less and less every day ; criticising 
 the plans of government in operation, and drawing up 
 new plans of his own ; noting with a sort of pro- 
 phetic cunning all political and diplomatic changes 
 threatened, the struggles to gain power and the 
 struggles to preserve it ; and all the while keeping 
 his ear open to reports of all domestic occurrences at 
 the Court, the love-affairs, the scandals, the marriages, 
 the tragedies in this direction, the comedies in that ; 
 
 such being his position and 'occupation, we need 
 not be surprised at the vast extent and varied nature
 
 Ylll INTRODUCTION. 
 
 of his Memoirs. A more active and public mode of 
 life in wliich lie would have been forced to find work for 
 the critics rather than play the critic himself, would 
 not have suited him so well ; and would have injured 
 the interests of posterity. We see this plainly in 
 the review of his career. 
 
 During the lifetime of Louis XIV., St. Simon en- 
 joyed much indirect favour from his popularity with 
 the leading personages of the Court and the Govern- 
 ment ; but the King, displeased with him in the first 
 instance for his retirement from the army, and after- 
 wards for his determined stand in support of the most 
 petty privileges of the order to which he belonged 
 to say nothing of his pedantic and meddling disposition 
 never bestowed much notice upon him, and some- 
 times evinced marked coldness. It was not until the 
 government fell into the hands of the Due d'Orleans, 
 the Due de Chartres of St. Simon's childhood, that 
 his position changed. With the Due d'Orleans he had 
 always been 011 good terms. He had stood by him 
 in fair weather and in foul ; and now to a certain 
 extent reaped the reward of his devotion. He be- 
 came a member of the Council of State; and had 
 nominally a voice in deciding the affairs of the nation. 
 But he was not meant by nature to be a statesman 
 any more than he was meant to be a soldier. Abler 
 and more unscrupulous intriguers got hold of the helm ; 
 and St. Simon, despite his intimacy with the Regent, 
 never had any sensible influence on great affairs, and 
 continued to jot down notes of what he knew of the 
 manners and character of the Court.
 
 INTRODUCTION. IX 
 
 The Memoirs of the Due de St. Simon extend over 
 a period corresponding to his Court life which ended 
 about 1723. Every circumstance, however important or 
 however trivial, that occurred at the French Court during 
 this period, seems to be set down in them. The}*" give 
 us the most varied and the most curious information re- 
 specting the members of that Court; and are especially 
 successful in introducing Louis XIV. to us in undress, 
 without his crown, even without his wig, the plain 
 unsophisticated thing, the lean and slippered panta- 
 loon, who by the huge efforts of flattery has been 
 introduced to posteritj'- with the title of Great. The 
 most criminal act that literature has committed has 
 been to affect gratitude for this pitiful old gentleman; 
 and it is agreeable to find one literary man, though a 
 noble, painting him in his true colours. We seem to 
 be present at the melancholy death of Hawthorne's 
 Feathertop ; or, after having watched the brilliant 
 course of a rocket through the air, to be picking up 
 the miserable stick round which the splendour clung. 
 
 It is true that these Memoirs refer chiefly to the 
 latter days of Louis XIV., when he had become tied to 
 the apron-strings of that stately intriguer, so pious 
 and yet so bitter, Madame de Maintenon ; but I do not 
 think this is the reason he appeal's so mean. He was 
 always mean ; and never meaner than in his young 
 days, when he had beautiful mistresses, some of whom 
 were not so contemptible as others. We know the 
 promises he made that he did not perform ; and the 
 offensive word that exists to describe such conduct. 
 But this is not the place to discuss the general
 
 X INTRODUCTION". 
 
 character of this smirking, grimacing old dancing-master, 
 who has given his name (among the French) to a literary 
 and artistic age because he patronised Lebrun, and 
 could not understand Lesueur, Claude Lorrain, and 
 Poussin because he gave Moliere the smallest pension 
 accorded to any poet of his day, wasted the genius of 
 Racine in composing his panegyric, and corrupted the 
 taste and morality of France, by forcing its writers, even 
 the best, to indulge in the most ignoble and loathsome 
 laudations of the most ignoble and loathsome of persons. 
 The reader is requested to compare the character of 
 Monseigneur as described with unerring accuracy in 
 these Memoirs with the following disgusting paragraph 
 printed in small capitals in the midst of one of the 
 master-pieces of French literature : La Bruyere's 
 " Characters :" 
 
 " Un jeune prince, d'une race auguste, l'amour et 
 1'esperance des peuples, donne du ciel pour prolonger 
 la felicite de la terre, plus grand que ses a'ieux, fils 
 d'un heros qui est son modele, a deja niontre a 1'mii- 
 vers, par ses divines qualites et par une vertu anti- 
 cipee, que les enfants des heros sont plus proches de 
 1'etre que les autres homines." 
 
 If we compare this bombastical unmeasured style 
 with the way in which chosen men used to speak, say 
 even of Henri IV., we shall be able to estimate the 
 degree to which taste suffered under Louis XIV. 
 Language may have become purer and more correct : 
 it would have gone on improving, perhaps entered on 
 a better path, under any other governor or form of 
 government; but style is not diction and requires to be
 
 INTRODUCTION. , XI 
 
 assisted towards perfection by moral qualities which 
 could not develop in the pestilential atmosphere of 
 Versailles. That was at any rate, an age of phrases, 
 not an age of ideas ; and, with the exception of Moliere 
 and Pascal, produced few men whose reputation is not 
 in some manner conventional. 
 
 Although St. Simon reveals all the pitifulness of 
 the Court, because it was pitiful, we must not sup- 
 pose that he does so with any ulterior views. He was 
 no revolutionist, no reformer. No man could have a 
 more genuine belief in kingly po^r than he. Instead 
 of seeing that England owes its rank among nations 
 to the execution of Charles the First, he says that 
 'execution will be its " eternal shame." "William of 
 Orange is always an " usurper " in his eyes. He would 
 probably have parted with his life to uphold the throne 
 of France, whilst painting the members of the royal 
 family as stained with every vice which our vocabulary 
 can name, or refuses to name. 
 
 There is no reason to doubt that St. Simon's por- 
 trait of Louis XIV. is true in all essential particulars. 
 And what a portrait it is ! How finished by a succession 
 of touches, put on when the artist was in his best mood, 
 that gradually give life to the eye, and colour to the 
 cheek ! There is a victory, for example, to be gained. 
 The French troops, Louis XIV. at their head, are en- 
 camped at Gembloux. The Prince of Orange is close 
 at hand. The position of the French is such that they 
 can count upon a victory. The position of the enemy 
 is such that they can count upon nothing but defeat. 
 The French are more numerous than the allies ; all
 
 Xll INTRODUCTION. 
 
 promises a great triumph. But time flies, and nothing 
 is done ; on the contrary, an order for retreat is given. 
 The King worked upon by Madame de Maintenon is 
 tired of being a hero, and impatient for the comforts 
 of Versailles. Amidst the laughter of the army, of 
 France, and of Europe, he joins " the ladies," and 
 returns to uxorious ease. At another time, Lille being 
 taken by the enemy, a minister proposes an excellent 
 plan for its recovery ; but as the plan includes leaving 
 the ladies behind, requests that it shall not be com- 
 municated to Madame de Maintenon. The King 
 promises, breaks his promise, and suffers himself once 
 more to be cajoled. The unchaste widow of a para- 
 lytic poet, the sneaking governess who was the humble 
 friend of the King's mistresses, and of the Courtesan 
 Ninon, puts a night-cap over the crown of France. 
 Every idea of honour and humanity is made to give 
 way to the King's personal enjoyment. He thanks 
 God that the Duchesse de Bourgogne, his grand- 
 daughter, meets with an accident, that injures her and 
 deprives her of an heir, because her state interferes 
 with his promenades. The importance he assigns to 
 etiquette perhaps nothing else appeared important in 
 his eyes is most amusing. "When one of the Court 
 ladies seats herself at table a place or two higher than 
 she had any right to do, his dignity is so wounded that 
 he can eat no dinner and bursts out constantly into 
 spontaneous rages for several days. Yet he so far 
 forgets what is due to this dignity on another occasion 
 that he plays the sneaking courtier to a common 
 financier whose money he wishes to borrow, which St.
 
 INTRODUCTION. Xlli 
 
 Simon calls a pleasant case of cut-purse. The murder 
 of Fargues shows that his pettiness could be sangui- 
 nary when it chose. But the Memoirs are full of such 
 traits. And of what revelations of the state of the 
 Court ! See the character of the King's only legitimate 
 son, of his illegitimate sons and daughters, his favour- 
 ites and councillors. Strongly as they are painted in 
 these pages, I have yet been obliged to decline following 
 St. Simon in all his details and revelations. 
 
 The memoir-writer addressed not his own day, but 
 posterity. The anecdotes he set down in his journal 
 would have cost him his life or his liberty, if he had 
 ventured to publish them. Had Louis XIV. known what 
 kept the young busy-body Duke so often in his study 
 there would have been a lettre -de -cachet out at once, 
 we may be sure, and a new lodger at the Bastille or 
 Vincennes. Indeed, it is only in our own day so to 
 speak, that the Memoirs have been allowed to appear. 
 When St. Simon retired from the Court for good 
 and all, he went down to his government of Blaye, 
 and turning aside from all new opinions and doctrines, 
 employed the leisure of many years in revising and 
 arranging his notes. Shortly after his death his manu- 
 scripts were seized by the government. It was known 
 that they contained many revelations of the Court of 
 Lous XIV. ^ Their publication was dreaded. For 
 years the Memoirs remained locked up in the hands 
 of the government. From time to time a select few 
 were allowed to look at them. Duclos, Marmontel, 
 Madame du Deffand had access to these valuable docu- 
 ments. Voltaire too appears to have seen them, but
 
 XIV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 after the production of his " Siecle de Louis XIV. ; " 
 for he conceived, we are told, the project of refuting 
 the information they contain. To the public at large, 
 however, they remained utterly unknown. 
 
 A little while before the French revolution, extracts 
 from the Memoirs began to appear ; but always very 
 imperfect and without authorisation. After the 
 French revolution other versions were published ; but 
 so altered, mutilated, and re-arranged, that St. Simon 
 would have had trouble indeed to recognise his own 
 work. It was not until 1829 that anything like a 
 complete edition of the Mempirs was given to the 
 public. The work at once made a great sensation, 
 and the caution that had directed its long suppression 
 was to a certain extent justified. Never did the 
 Bourbon family receive such a blow. At a glance the 
 public had presented to them that court which had 
 hitherto been regarded as the most brilliant ever seen 
 in France its tinsel and gilding stripped from it, its 
 tatters and rags displayed in all their wretchedness. 
 The success of the work was immense. Since the 
 publication of Scott's novels, says M. Sairite-Beuve, 
 no book had been more widely welcomed. 
 
 This success has gone on increasing with years. 
 Every French literary man, I had almost said' every 
 French student, reads St. Simon. The press abounds 
 with allusions to this inexhaustible story-teller, from 
 whom, too, the stage takes its plots, and the novelist 
 his characters. During the last year no fewer than 
 six different editions of his work were brought out in 
 Paris. Though the price in some cases was high a
 
 INTRODUCTION'. XV 
 
 hundred and twenty francs being the cost t of one 
 edition, purchasers did not fail. 
 
 The Paris publishers, Messrs. Hachette and Co., 
 are now producing three editions of St. Simon's 
 Memoirs, the only really perfect versions of the 
 work. The edition of 1829, although much more 
 complete than its predecessors, was disfigured by many 
 verbal and other errors, several alterations of the 
 original text, and more than one omission. It was 
 good to revise the text once more; and the super- 
 stitious respect of M. Cheruel for his author, though 
 sometimes amusing, is very commendable. 
 
 I -have not attempted a translation of the great 
 work of St. Simon. It would form about twenty-five 
 volumes such as the present; and I feel persuaded 
 would find few English readers. There can be no 
 question that St. Simon knew when to write ; but it is 
 equally evident that he did not know when to leave off. 
 His descriptions and his details extend to lengths that 
 tire even the most persevering attention. When once 
 he has entered upon a subject, you may be quite sure 
 that he will exhaust every portion of it. If he has to 
 speak of a grand marriage, not merely the bride and 
 bridegroom are described with elaborate minuteness, 
 but some account is given of their fathers and their 
 mothers, their grandfathers and their grandmothers, 
 and their most remote descendants ; and when you 
 think that at last all is over, ten to one there follow 
 some particulars respecting the cousins -german, or 
 the relatives by the main gqiichc of the happy pair. 
 And then for fear we should not be satisfied, we are
 
 XVI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 treated to infinite communications on their attendants 
 and their tire-women. But the portions of the work 
 in which the strongest inroads are made upon the 
 patience of the reader are the dissertations upon rank 
 and precedence, with which so many hundred pages 
 are filled. In the very first volume no fewer than 
 seventy-three solid pages are filled with an account 
 of the trial for precedence against M. de Luxem- 
 bourg, for which I have thought A dozen pages ample. 
 In many other volumes these details are even more 
 intolerable. 
 
 St. Simon as a Duke and Peer of France may very 
 naturally be supposed to have felt considerable interest 
 in all that pertains to his order. It was to him a 
 matter of some importance that M. de Luxembourg or 
 the President Novion should not walk five steps in 
 advance of him in a procession or sit five seats before 
 him at a state ceremony. But to us these things are 
 of little moment. Our sympathy for Saint Simon, at 
 all events, cannot follow him through the many, many 
 chapters in which he makes appeal to it. 
 
 In selecting facts, 1 have endeavoured to allow no 
 prejudice to sway my mind. As Goldsmith said of his 
 " History of England," my main object has been to 
 make an interesting work. The labour, I am not 
 ashamed to say it, has been anything but slight. Even 
 St. Simon's language, when one comes to grapple with 
 it and try to express all his meaning, forms no slight 
 difficulty. He wrote after Corneille, Racine, and 
 Moliere, and when the French academy had been 
 formed for years. But the excessive length of his
 
 INTRODUCTION. XV11 
 
 sentences, in which subject after subject becomes 
 involved, and pronoun after pronoun appears unbe- 
 friended and unconnected, or apparently so ; this, and 
 the strange and oftentimes daring use he makes of 
 familiar words and phrases, render him more than 
 ordinarily difficult among French authors. Many 
 French readers, literary themselves, are oftentimes 
 borne down by his unusual flux of words, and find 
 themselves at sea as to his meaning. Indeed, to speak 
 the truth, the style of the writer, though full of mani- 
 fest and lurking beauties in its astonishing variety, is 
 on the whole cumbrous and wearisome, entangled, and 
 beset with those stumbling blocks with which amateur 
 writers when they wish to be copious, almost invariably 
 fill their pages. 
 
 In introducing St. Simon into English society, I 
 have endeavoured to let him retain as much as possible 
 some of his French garments with all his French ways 
 and peculiarities. Whenever practicable I have exactly 
 translated his expressions ; when they were untrans- 
 latable I have rendered them into the language that 
 seemed best to express his meaning without being 
 troubled with the desire of elegance. Always, too, I 
 have adhered rigorously to my text. Not a thought, 
 not a reflection, not a phrase, have I willingly given 
 that St. Simon's words do not justify. I feel bound 
 to make this statement to remove entirely the idea 
 that my own personality has obtruded itself into these 
 pages. Except in the notes it is St. Simon who 
 speaks throughout ; St. Simon, a little less garrulous 
 than when in French guise ; but, if I have succeeded,
 
 XV111 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the same Duke and Peer of France, whose vast 
 communicativeness for the last two or three years 
 has furnished matter for the table-talk of Paris. 
 
 Whether St. Simon is well known in England I am 
 unable to judge. I read him with a motive some 
 fifteen years ago, and fancied that everybody was 
 acquainted at any rate with his name and character ; 
 but a friend talking to a literary man on the subject 
 the other day was informed that St. Simon was " a 
 great republican, a friend of Robespierre, who left very 
 voluminous memoirs ; " and a person of cultivated 
 mind and wide reading on being informed of this 
 undertaking, asked: " Why did they make him a 
 Saint ? " An amusing article was once written in 
 France called " The Two St. Simons," in which a 
 disciple of the new Religion, and an admirer of 
 the memoir-writer are made to talk for hours in 
 rapturous tones of their idols without ever discovering 
 their mistake, so that when we hear St. Simon familiarly 
 alluded to we cannot be sure of the presence of 
 knowledge. 
 
 Tn giving the spirit rather than the substance of 
 the Memoirs, I have oftentimes travelled far in 
 advance of St. Simon, and collected his scattered 
 facts together so as to form one continuous narrative. 
 By these means, as I hope, the present volumes have 
 been made more interesting to the general reader than 
 a full translation of the original work would prove. 
 But I feel that many little errors may have escaped 
 me in the re -arrangement of so much detail as I had 
 to do with.
 
 INTRODUCTION. XIX 
 
 The Memoirs of Saint Simon occupy in French 
 twenty large octavo volumes of about four hundred 
 and fifty pages each. One half of the work as 
 rendered by me is contained in the present volumes. 
 The other half will be contained in two similar 
 volumes shortly to be published. 
 
 In order to preserve St. Simon's tone as much as 
 possible, and for the sake of uniformity, I have used 
 the French titles of the personages he speaks of. It 
 might have been indifferent to say "the Duke of 
 Chartres," or " The Due de Chartres ;" but it would 
 have been difficult to translate Monsieur, Monseigneur, 
 M. le Prince, and so forth. 
 
 There are a few titles of constant recurrence in the 
 Memoirs, the meaning of which I have myself found it 
 difficult to remember, and a list of which I have given 
 in order that the reader, who may happen to be in the 
 same predicament, may turn back to it for informa- 
 tion : 
 
 Monsieur Philippe, Due d'Orleans, son of Louis XIII. 
 
 and Anne of Austria, and brother of 
 Louis XIV. 
 
 Madame Wife of Monsieur. 
 
 Due de Chartres Son of Monsieur, afterwards Due d'Orleans 
 
 and Regent of France. 
 
 Duchesse de Chartres His wife, previously Mademoiselle de Blois, 
 
 daughter of the King and Madame de 
 Monttispau ; afterwards became Ducliesse 
 d'Orleans. 
 
 Monseigneur Louis, son of Louis XIV. and Marie The- 
 
 rese. According to established custom 
 the heir to the Crown was called the 
 Dauphin, but an innovation was made
 
 XX 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 in this particular instance by Louis 
 
 XIV. 
 Eldest son of Monseigneur, and father of 
 
 Louis XV. 
 Second son of Monseigneur, afterwards 
 
 Philip V. of Spain. 
 Third son of Monseigneur. 
 Henri Jules de Bourbon, Prince de Conde, 
 
 and son of the great Conde. 
 his wife, Anne of Bavaria. 
 Son of M. le Prince. 
 Louise-Fran goise de Bourbon, wife of M. 
 
 le Due, previously called Mademoiselle 
 
 de Nantes ; daughter of the King and 
 
 Madame de Montespan. 
 Son of the King by Madame de Montespan. 
 Son of the King by Madame de Montespan. 
 This was the title given to the Grand 
 
 flcuyers. The M. le Grand spoken of 
 
 in the Memoirs, was Louis de Lorraine 
 
 Comte d'Armagnac. 
 
 With this assistance I believe St. Simon's meaning 
 will always be found perfectly clear. I shall only add, 
 therefore, that I have not undertaken to discuss 
 historical points with him, or to interfere with his 
 appreciations of persons. His mistakes, his prejudices, 
 his incompleteness, his wrong estimation of passing 
 events all which give the Memoirs something of a 
 newspaper character form in themselves as it were 
 elements in the picture he paints. 
 
 The Due de Bourgogne 
 The Due d'Anjou 
 
 The Due de Berry 
 M. le Prince 
 
 Madame la Priucesse 
 
 M. le Due 
 
 Madame la Duchcsse 
 
 M. le Due du Maine 
 
 M. le Comte de Toulouse 
 
 M. le Grand 
 
 BAYLE ST. JOHN. 
 
 PARIS, April, 1857.
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 My Birth and Family Early Life Desire to join the Army Enter 
 the Musketeers The Campaign commences Camp of Gevries 
 Siege of Namur Dreadful Weather Gentlemen carrying 
 Corn Sufferings during the Siege The Monks of Marlaigne 
 Rival Couriers Naval Battle Playing with Fire-arms A Pre- 
 diction verified . - 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The King's natural Children Proposed Marriage of the Due de Char- 
 tres Influence of Dubois The Due and the King An Apart- 
 ment Announcement of the Marriage Anger of Madame 
 Household of the Duchesse Villars and Rochefort Friend of 
 King's Mistresses 'The Marriage Ceremony Toilette of the 
 Duchesse Son of Montbron Marriage of M. du Maine Duchess 
 . of Hanover Due de Choiseul La Grande Mademoiselle . 14 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Death of my Father Anecdotes of Louis XIII. The Cardinal de 
 Richelieu The Due de Bellegarde Madame de Hautefort My 
 Father's Enemy His Services and Reward A Duel against Law 
 An Answer to a Libel M. de la Rochefoucauld My Father's 
 Gratitude to Louis XIII.
 
 XX11 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Position of the Prince of Orange Strange Conduct of the King 
 Surprise and Indignation Battle of Neerwinden My Return to 
 Paris Death of La Vauguyon Symptoms of Madness Vauguyon 
 at the Bastille Projects of Marriage M. de Beauvilliers A 
 negotiation for a Wife My failure Visit to La Trappe . .42 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 M. de Luxembourg's Claim of Precedence Origin of the Claim 
 Due de Piney Character of Harlay Progress of the Trial 
 Luxembourg and Richelieu Double-dealing of Harlay The Due 
 de Gesvres Return to the Seat of War Divers Operations 
 Origin of these Memoirs ........ 55 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Quarrels of the Princesses Mademoiselle Choin A Disgraceful 
 Affair M. de Noyon Comic Scene at the Academic Anger 
 and Forgiveness of M. de Noyon M. de Noailles in Disgrace 
 How he gets into Favour again M. de Vendome in Command 
 Character of M. de Luxembourg The Trial for Precedence 
 again An Insolent Lawyer Extraordinary Decree . . .66 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Harlay and the Dutch Death of the Princess of Orange Count 
 Kcenigsmarck A new Proposal of Marriage My Marriage 
 That of M. de Lauznn Its Result La Fontaine and Mignard 
 Illness of the Marechal de Lorges Operations on the Rhine 
 Village of Seckenheim An Episode of War Cowardice of M. du 
 Maine Despair of the King, who takes a Knave in the Act 
 Bon Mot of M. d'Elbceuf ,80 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The Abbe de Fenelon The Jansenists and St. Sulpice Alliance 
 with Madame Gnyon Preceptor of the Royal Children Ac-
 
 CONTENTS. XX111 
 
 PAGE 
 
 quaintance with Madame de Maintenon Appointment to Cam- 
 brai Disclosure of Madame Guyon's Doctrines Her Disgrace 
 Bossuet and Fenelon Two Rival Books Disgrace of Fenelon . 96 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Death of Archbishop Harlay Scene at Conflans "The Good Langres" 
 A Scene at Marly Princesses Smoke Pipes ! Fortunes of 
 Cavoye Madlle. de Coetlogon Madame de Guise Madame de 
 Miramion Madame de Sevigne Father Seraphin An Angry 
 Bishop Death of La Bruyere Burglary by a Duke Proposed 
 Marriage of the Due de Bourgogne The Duchess de Lude A 
 Dangerous Lady Madame d'O. Arrival of the Duchesse de 
 Bourgogne .......... 107 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 My Return to Fontainebleau A Calumny at Court Portrait of M. 
 de la Trappe A False Painter Fast Living at the "Desert" 
 Comte d'Auvergne Perfidy of Harlay M. de Monaco 
 Madame Panache The Italian Actors and "the False Prude" . 123 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A Scientific Retreat The Peace of Ryswick Prince of Conti King 
 of Poland His Voyage and Reception King of England acknow- 
 ledged Due de Conde in Burgundy Strange Death of Santeuil 
 Duties of the Prince of Darmstadt in Spain Madame de Main- 
 tenon's Brother Extravagant Dresses Marriage of the Due de 
 
 Bourgogne The Bedding of the Princesse Grand Balls A 
 Scandalous Bird .' .133 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 An Odd Marriage Black Daughter of the King Travels of Peter 
 the Great Magnificent English Ambassador The Prince of 
 Parma A Dissolute Abbe Orondat Dispute about Mourning
 
 XXIV CONTEXTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 M. de Cambrai's Book condemned by M. de la Trappe Anec- 
 dote of the head of Madame de Montbazon Condemnation of 
 Fenelon by the Pope His Submission 149 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Charnace An odd Ejectment A Squabble at Cards Birth of my 
 Son The Camp at Compiegne Splendour of Marechal Boufflers 
 Pique of the Ambassadors Tesse's Grey Hat A sham Siege 
 A singular Scene The King and Madame de Maintenon An 
 astonished Officer Breaking up of the Camp .... 163 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Gervaise, Monk of La Trappe His disgusting Profligacy The Author 
 of the Lord's Prayer A Struggle for Precedence Mme. de 
 Saint Simon The end of the Quarrel Death of the Chevalier 
 de Coislin A ludicrous Incident Death of Racine The King 
 and the Poet King pays Debts of Courtiers Impudence of M. 
 de Yendome A mysterious Murder Extraordinary Theft . 177 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The Farrier of Salon Apparition of a Queen The Farrier comes to 
 Versailles Revelations to the Queen Supposed explanation 
 New distinctions to the Bastards New Statue of the King 
 Disappointment of Harlay Honesty of Chamillart The Comtesse 
 de Fiesque Daughter of Jacquier Impudence of Saumery 
 Amusing Scene Attempted Murder . . . . .192 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Reform at Court Cardinal Delfini Pride of M. de Monaco Early 
 Life of Madame de Maintenon Madame de Navailles Balls at 
 Marly An odd Mask Great Dancing Fortunes of Langlee 
 His Coarseness The Abbe de Soubise Intrigues for his Pro- 
 motion Disgrace and Obstinacy of Cardinal de Bouillon . . 206
 
 CONTENTS. XXV 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Marriage Bargain Mademoiselle de Mailly James II. begging 
 Champagne A Duel Death of Le Notre His Character 
 History of Vassor Comtesse de Verrue and her Romance with 
 M. de Savoie A Race of Dwarfs An indecorous Incident 
 Death of M. de La Trappe , .... . . " . 223 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Settlement of the Spanish Succession King William III. New Party 
 in Spain Their Attack on the Queen Perplexity of the King 
 His Will Scene at the Palace News sent to France Council at 
 Madame de Maintenon's The King's Decision A Public Decla- 
 ration Treatment of the new King His Departure for Spain 
 Reflections Philip V. arrives in Spain The Queen Dowager 
 Banished . 236 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Marriage of Philip V. The Queen's Journey Rival Dishes A 
 Delicate Quarrel The King's Journey to Italy The Intrigues 
 against Catinat Vaudemont's success Appointment of Villeroy 
 The First Campaign A Snuff-box Prince Eugene's Plan 
 Attack and Defence of Cremona Villeroy made Prisoner Ap- 
 pointment of M . de Vendome ....... 252 
 
 CHAPTER XX. % 
 
 Discontent and Death of Barbezieux His Character Elevation of 
 Chamillart Strange Reasons of his Success Death of Rose 
 Anecdotes An Invasion of Foxes M. le Prince A Horse upon. 
 Roses Marriage of his Daughter His Manners and Appearance 269 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Monseigneurs Indigestion The King disturbed The Ladies of the 
 Halle Quarrel of the King and his brother Mutual reproaches
 
 XXVI CONTEXTS. 
 
 Monsieur's Confessors A new Scene of Wrangling Monsieur 
 at table He is seized with apoplexy The news carried to Marly 
 How received by the King Death of Monsieur Various forms 
 of grief The Due de Chartres 277 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 The Dead soon forgotten Feelings of Madame de Maintenon And of 
 the Due de Chartres Of the Courtiers Madame's Mode of Life 
 Character of Monsieur Anecdote of M. le Prince Strange 
 Interview of Madame de Maintenon with Madame Mourning at 
 Court Death of Henriette d'Angleterre A Poisoning Scene 
 The King and the Accomplice 292 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Scandalous Adventure of the Abbesse de la Joye Anecdote of Madame 
 de Saint Herem Death of James II. and recognition of his Son 
 Alliance against France Scene at St. Maur Balls and Plays 
 The Electra of Longepierre Romantic Adventures of the Abbe 
 de Yatteville. . 308 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Changes in the Army I leave the Service Annoyance of the King 
 The medallic history of the reign Louis XIII. Death of 
 William III. Accession of Queen Anne The alliance continued 
 Anecdotes of Catinat Madame de Maintenon and the King . 320 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Anecdote of Canaples Death of the Due de Coislin Anecdotes of 
 his unbearable Politeness Eccentric Character President de 
 Novion Death of M. de Lorges Death of the Duchesse de 
 Gesvres . 332
 
 CONTENTS. XX\ T ii 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Prince d'Harcourt His character, and that of his wife Odd 
 Court lady She cheats at play Scene at Fontainebleau 
 Crackers at Marly Snowballing a Princess Strange manners 
 of Madame d'Harcourt Rebellion among her servants A vigor- 
 ous Chambermaid 343 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Madame des Ursins Her Marriage and Character The Queen of 
 Spain Ambition of Madame de Maintenon Coronation of 
 Philip V. A Cardinal made Colonel Favourites of Madame 
 des Ursins Her complete triumph A Mistake A Despatch 
 violated Madame des Ursins in disgrace .... 352 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Appointment of the Duke of Berwick Deception practised by Orry 
 Anger of Louis XIV. Dismissal of Madame des Ursins 
 Her intrigues to return Annoyance of the King and Queen 
 of Spain Intrigues at Versailles Triumphant return of 
 Madame des Ursins to Court Baseness of the Courtiers Her 
 return to Spain resolved on .. . . . . . 3C4
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 DUKE OF SAINT-SIMON. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 My Birth and Family Early Life Desire to join the Army Enter the 
 Musketeers The Campaign commences Camp of Gevries Siege of 
 Namur Dreadful Weather Gentlemen carrying Corn Sufferings 
 during the Siege The Monks of Marlaigne Rival Couriers Naval 
 Battle Playing with Fire-arms A Prediction verified. 
 
 I WAS born on the night of the 15th of January, 
 1675, of Claude, Due de Saint- Simon,* Peer of France ; 
 and of his second wife, Charlotte de 1'Aubepine. I 
 was the only child of that marriage. By his first wife, 
 Diana de Budos, my father had had only a daughter. 
 He married her to the Due de Brissac, Peer of France, 
 only brother of the Duchesse de Villeroy. She died 
 in 1684, without children, having been long before 
 separated from a husband who was unworthy of her 
 leaving me heir of all her property. 
 
 I bore the name of the Vidame de Chartres ; and was 
 educated with great care and attention. My mother, 
 who was remarkable for virtue, perseverance, and 
 sense, busied herself continually in forming my mind 
 
 * See Introduction. 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 MY EARLY LIFE. 
 
 and body. She feared for me the usual fate of young 
 men, who believe their fortunes made, and who find 
 themselves their own masters early in life. It was not 
 likely that my father, born in 1606, would live long 
 enough to ward off from me this danger ; and my 
 mother repeatedly impressed on me how necessary it 
 was for a young man, the son of the favourite of a 
 King long dead, with no new friends at Court, to 
 acquire some personal value of his own. She suc- 
 ceeded in stimulating my courage ; and in exciting in 
 me the desire to make the acquisitions she laid stress 
 on ; but my aptitude for study and the sciences did 
 not come up to my desire to succeed in them. How- 
 ever, I had an innate inclination for reading, especially 
 works of history ; and thus was inspired with ambition 
 to emulate the examples presented to my imagination, 
 to do something and become somebody, which partly 
 made amends for my coldness for letters. In fact, I 
 have always thought that if I had been allowed to read 
 history more constantly, instead of losing my time in 
 studies for which I had no aptness, I might have made 
 some figure in the world. 
 
 "What I read of my own accord, of history, and, 
 above all, of the personal memoirs of the times since 
 Francis I., bred in me the desire to write down what I 
 might myself see. The hope of advancement, and of 
 becoming familiar with the affairs of my time, stirred 
 me. The annoyances I might thus bring upon myself 
 did not fail to present themselves to my mind ; but 
 the firm resolution I made to keep my writings secret 
 from everybody, appeared to me to remedy all evils.
 
 DESIRE TO JOIN THE ARMY. 3 
 
 I commenced my memoirs then in July, 1694, being 
 at that time colonel of a cavalry regiment bearing my 
 name, in the camp of Guinsheim, upon the old Rhine, 
 in the army commanded by the Marechal Due de 
 Lorges. 
 
 In 1091 I was studying my philosophy and begin- 
 ning to learn to ride at an academy at Eochefort, 
 getting mightily tired of masters and books, and 
 anxious to join the army. The siege of Mons, formed 
 by the King in person, at the commencement of the 
 spring, had drawn away all the young men of my age 
 to commence their first campaign ; and, what piqued 
 me most, the Due de Chartres was there, too. I had 
 been, as it were, educated with him. I was younger 
 than he by eight months ; and, if the expression be 
 allowed in speaking of young people, so unequal in 
 position, friendship had united us. I made up my 
 mind, therefore, to escape from my leading-strings ; 
 but pass lightly over the artifices I used in order to 
 attain success. I addressed myself to my mother. I 
 soon saw that she trifled with me. I had recourse to 
 my father, whom I made believe that the King, having 
 led a great siege this year, would rest the next. I said 
 nothing of this to my mother, who did not discover my 
 plot until it was just upon the point of execution. 
 
 The King had determined rigidly to adhere to a rule 
 he had laid down namely, that none who entered the 
 service, except his illegitimate children, and the Princes 
 of the blood royal, should be exempt from serving for 
 a year in one of his two companies of Musketeers; 
 
 and passing afterwards through the ordeal of being 
 
 ft J
 
 4 I ENTER THE MUSKETEERS. 
 
 private or subaltern in one of the regiments of cavalry 
 or infantry, before receiving permission to purchase a 
 regiment. My father took me, therefore, to Versailles, 
 where he had not been for many years, and begged of 
 the King admission for me into the Musketeers. It 
 was on the day of St. Simon St. Jude, at half-past 
 twelve, and just as his Majesty came out of the 
 council. 
 
 The King did my father the honour of embracing 
 him three times, and then turned towards me. Finding 
 that I was little, and of delicate appearance, he said I 
 was still very young; to which my father replied, 
 that I should be able in consequence to serve longer. 
 Thereupon the King demanded in which of the two 
 companies he wished to put me ; and my father named 
 that commanded by Maupertuis, who was one of his 
 friends. The King relied much upon the information 
 given him by the captains of the two companies of 
 Musketeers, as to the young men who served in them. 
 I have reason for believing, that I owe to Mauper- 
 tuis the first good opinion that his Majesty had 
 of me. 
 
 Three months after entering the Musketeers, that is 
 to say, in the March of the following year, the King 
 held a review of his guards, and of the gendarmerie, at 
 Compiegne, and I mounted guard once at the palace. 
 During this little journey there was talk of a much 
 more important one. My joy was extreme ; but my 
 father, who had not counted upon this, repented of 
 having believed me, when I told him that the King 
 would no doubt rest at Paris this year. My mother,
 
 THE CAMPAIGN COMMENCES. 5 
 
 after a little vexation and pouting at finding me en- 
 rolled by my father against her will, did not fail to 
 bring him to reason, and to make him provide me with 
 an equipment of thirty-five horses or mules, and means 
 to live honourably. 
 
 A grievous annoyance happened in our house about 
 three weeks before my departure. A steward of my 
 father named Tesse, who had been with him many 
 years, disappeared all at once with fifty thousand francs 
 due to various tradesfolk. He had written out false 
 receipts from these people, and put them in his accounts. 
 He was a little man, gentle, affable, and clever ; who 
 had shown some probity, and who had many friends. 
 
 The King set out on the 10th of May, 1692, with the 
 ladies ; and I performed the journey on horseback with 
 the soldiers and all the attendants, like the other Mus- 
 keteers, and continued to do so through the whole cam- 
 paign. I was accompanied by two gentlemen ; the one 
 had been my tutor, the other was my mother's squire. 
 The King's army was formed at the camp of Gevries ; that 
 of M. de Luxembourg almost joined it. The ladies were 
 at Mons, two leagues distant. The King made them 
 come into his camp, where he entertained them ; and 
 then showed them, perhaps, the most superb review 
 which had ever been seen. The two armies were 
 ranged in two lines, the right of M. de Luxembourg's 
 touching the left of the King's, the whole extending 
 over three leagues of ground. 
 
 After stopping ten days at Gevries, the two armies 
 separated and marched. Two days afterwards the siege 
 of Namur was declared. The King arrived there in five
 
 (> SIEGE OF NAMUR. 
 
 days. Monseigneur (son of the King) ; Monsieur (Due 
 d'Orleans, brother of the King); M. le Prince (de Conde) ; 
 and Marechal d'Humieres ; all four, the one under the 
 other, commanded in the King's army under the King 
 himself. The Due de Luxembourg, sole general of his 
 own army, covered the siege operations, and observed 
 the enemy. The ladies went away to Dinant. On the 
 third day of the march M. le Prince went forward to 
 invest the place. 
 
 The celebrated VaubaH, the life and soul of all the 
 sieges the King made, was of opinion that the town, 
 should be attacked separately from the castle ; and his 
 advice was acted upon. The Baron de Bresse, how- 
 ever, who had fortified the place, was for attacking town 
 and castle together. He was a humble down-looking 
 man, whose physiognomy promised nothing, but who 
 soon acquired the confidence of the King, and the 
 esteem of the army. 
 
 The Prince de Conde, Marechal d'Humieres, and 
 the Marquis de Boufflers each led an attack. There 
 was nothing worthy of note during the ten days the 
 siege lasted. On the eleventh day after the trenches 
 had been opened, a parley was beaten and a capitulation 
 made almost as the besieged desired it. They withdrew 
 to the castle ; and it was agreed that it should not be 
 attacked from the town-side, and that the town was not 
 to be battered by it. During the siege the King was 
 almost always in his tent ; and the weather remained con- 
 stantly warm and serene. We lost scarcely anybody of 
 consequence. The Comte de Toulouse received a slight 
 wound in the arm while quite close to the King, who
 
 DREADFUL WEATHER. 7 
 
 from a prominent place was witnessing the attack of a 
 half -moon, which Avas carried in broad daylight by a 
 detachment of the oldest of the two companies of 
 Musketeers. 
 
 The siege of the castle next commenced. The posi- 
 tion of the camp was changed. The King's tents and 
 those of all the Court were pitched in a beautiful 
 meadow about five hundred paces from the monastery 
 of Marlaigne. The fine weather changed to rain, 
 which fell with an abundance and perseverance never 
 before known by any one in the army. This circum- 
 stance increased the reputation of Saint Medard, whose 
 fete falls on the 8th of June. It rained in torrents 
 that day, and it is said that when such is the case it 
 will rain for forty days afterwards. By chance it 
 happened so this year. The soldiers in despair at this 
 deluge uttered many imprecations against the saint ; 
 and looked for images of him, burning and breaking as 
 many as they could find. The rains sadly interfered 
 with the progress of the siege. The tents of the King 
 could only be communicated with by paths laid with 
 fascines which required to be renewed every day, as 
 they sank down into the soil. The camps and 
 quarters were no longer accessible ; the trenches were 
 full of mud and water, and it took often three days to 
 remove cannon from one battery to another. The wag- 
 gons became useless too, so that the transport of bombs, 
 shot, and so forth, could not be performed except upon 
 the backs of mules and of horses taken from the equi- 
 pages of the Court and the army. The state of the 
 roads deprived the Due de Luxembourg of the use of
 
 8 GENTLEMEN CARRYING CORN. 
 
 waggons and other vehicles. His army was perishing 
 for want of grain. To remedy this inconvenience the 
 King ordered all his household troops to mount every 
 day on horseback by detachments, and to take sacks of 
 grain upon their cruppers to a village where they were 
 to be received and counted by the officers of the Due 
 de Luxembourg. Although the household of the King 
 had scarcely any repose during this siege, what with 
 carrying fascines, furnishing guards, and other daily 
 services, this increase of duty was given to it because 
 the cavalry served continually also and was reduced 
 almost entirely to leaves of trees for provender. 
 
 The household of the King, accustomed to all sorts 
 of distinctions, complained bitterly of this task. But 
 the King turned a deaf ear to them, and would be 
 obej'ed. On the first day some of the Gendarmes and 
 of^the light horse of the guard arrived early in the 
 morning at the depot of the sacks, and commenced 
 murmuring and exciting each other by their discourses. 
 They threw down the sacks at last and flatly refused to 
 carry them. I had been asked very politely if I would 
 be of the detachment for the sacks or of some other. I 
 decided for the sacks, because I felt that I might thereby 
 advance myself, the subject having already made much 
 noise. I arrived with the detachment of the Musketeers 
 at the moment of the refusal of the others ; and I loaded 
 ' my sack before their eyes. Marin, a brigadier of cavalry 
 and lieutenant of the body guards, who was there to 
 superintend the operation, noticed me, and full of anger 
 at the refusal he had just met with, exclaimed that as I 
 did not think such work beneath me, the rest would do
 
 SUFFERINGS DURING THE SIEGE. 9 
 
 well to imitate my example. Without a word being 
 spoken each took up his sack ; and from that time 
 forward no further difficulty occurred in the matter. 
 As soon as the detachment had gone, Marin went 
 straight to the King and told him what had occurred. 
 This was a service which procured for me several obliging 
 discourses from his Majesty, who during the rest of 
 the siege always sought to say something agreeable 
 every time he met me. 
 
 The twenty-seventh day after opening the trenches, 
 that is, the first of July, 1692, a parley was sounded 
 by the Prince de Barbancon, governor of the place, a 
 fortunate circumstance for the besiegers, w T ho were 
 worn out with fatigue, and destitute of means, on ac- 
 count of the wretched weather which still continued, 
 and which had turned the whole country round into 
 a quagmire. Even the horses of the King lived upon 
 leaves, and not a horse of all our numerous cavalry 
 ever thoroughly recovered from the effects of such 
 sorry fare. It is certain that without the presence 
 of the King the siege might never have been success- 
 ful; but he being there, everybody was stimulated. 
 Yet had the place held out ten days longer, there is 
 no saying what might have happened. Before the 
 end of the siege the King was so much fatigued with 
 his exertions, that a new attack of gout came on, with 
 more' pain than ever, and compelled him to keep his 
 bed, where, however, he thought of everything, and 
 laid out his plans as though he had been at Versailles. 
 
 During the entire siege, the Prince of Orange 
 OVilliam III. of England) had unavailingly used all
 
 10 THE MONKS OF MARLAIGXE. 
 
 his science to dislodge the Due de Luxembourg ; but 
 he had to do with a man who in matters of war was 
 his superior, and who continued so all his life. Namur, 
 which, by the surrender of the castle, was now entirely 
 in our power, was one of the strongest places in the 
 Low Countries, and had hitherto boasted of having 
 never changed masters. The inhabitants could not 
 restrain their tears of sorrow. Even the monks of 
 Marlaigne were profoundly moved, so much so, that 
 they could not disguise their grief. The King feeling 
 for the loss of their corn that they had sent for safety 
 into Namur, gave- them double the quantity, and 
 abundant alms. He incommoded them as little as 
 possible, and would not permit the passage of cannon 
 across their park until it was found impossible to 
 transport it by any other road. Notwithstanding 
 these acts of goodness, they could scarcely look upon 
 a Frenchman after the taking of the place ; and one 
 actually refused to give a bottle of beer to an usher of 
 the King's antechamber, although offered a bottle of 
 champagne in exchange for it ! 
 
 A circumstance happened just after the taking of 
 Namur, which might have led to the saddest results, 
 under any other prince than the King. Before he 
 entered the town, a strict examination of every place 
 was made, although by the capitulation all the mines, 
 magazines, &c., had to be shown. At a visit paid to 
 the Jesuits, they pretended to show everything, ex- 
 pressing, however, surprise and something more, that 
 their bare word was not enough. But on examining 
 here and there, where they did not expect search
 
 KIVAL COURIERS. 11 
 
 would be made, their cellars were found to be stored 
 with gunpowder, of which they had taken good care to 
 say no word. What they meant to do with it is un- 
 certain. It was earned away, and as they were Jesuits 
 nothing was done. 
 
 During the course of this siege, the King suffered 
 a cruel disappointment. James II. of England, then 
 a refugee in France, had advised the King to give 
 battle to the English' fleet. Joined to that of Holland 
 it was very superior to the sea forces of France 
 Tourville, our admiral, so famous for his valour 
 and skill, pointed this circumstance out to the King. 
 But it was all to no effect. He was ordered to attack 
 the enemy. He did so. Many of his ships were 
 burnt, and the victory was won by the English. A 
 courier entrusted with this sad intelligence was de- 
 spatched to the King. On his way he was joined by 
 another courier, who pressed him for his news. The 
 first courier knew that if he gave up his news, the 
 other, who was better mounted, would outstrip him, 
 and be the first to carry it to the King. He told his 
 companion, therefore, an idle tale, very different in- 
 deed from the truth, for he changed the defeat into 
 a great victory. Having gained this wonderful in- 
 telligence, the second courier put spurs to his horse, 
 and hurried away to the King's camp, eager to be the 
 bearer of good tidings. He reached the camp first, 
 and was received with delight. While his Majesty was 
 still in great joy at his happy victory, the other 
 courier arrived with the real details. The Court 
 appeared prostrated. The King was much afflicted.
 
 12 PLAYING WITH FIRE-ARMS. 
 
 Nevertheless he found means to appear to retain his 
 self-possession, and I saw, for the- first time, that 
 Courts are not long in affliction or occupied with sad- 
 ness. I must mention that the (exiled) King of Eng- 
 land looked on at this naval battle from the shore ; and 
 was accused of allowing expressions of partiality to 
 escape him in favour of his countrymen, although 
 none had kept their promises to him. 
 
 Two days after the defeated garrison had marched 
 out, the King went to Dinant to join the ladies, with 
 whom he returned to Versailles. I had hoped that 
 Monseigneur would finish the campaign, and that I 
 should be with him, and it was not without regret 
 that I returned towards Paris. On the way a little 
 circumstance .happened. One of our halting-places 
 was Marienburgh, where we camped for the night. I 
 had become united in friendship with Comte de Coet- 
 quen, who was in the same company with myself. 
 He was well instructed and full of wit ; was exceed- 
 ingly rich, and even more idle than rich. That even- 
 ing he had invited several of us to supper in his tent. 
 I went there early, and found him stretched out upon 
 his bed, from which I dislodged him playfully and laid 
 myself down in his place, several of our officers stand- 
 ing by. Coetquen, sporting with me in return, took 
 his gun, which he thought to be unloaded, and pointed 
 it at me. But to our great surprise the weapon went 
 off. Fortunately for me, I was at that moment lying 
 flat upon the bed. Three balls passed just above my 
 head, and then just above the heads of our two tutors, 
 who were walking outside the tent. Coetquen fainted
 
 A PREDICTION VERIFIED. 13 
 
 at thought of the mischief he might have done, 
 and we had all the pains in the world to bring him to 
 himself again : indeed he did not thoroughly recover 
 for several days. I relate this as a lesson which 
 ought to teach us never to play with fire -arms. 
 
 The poor lad, to finish at once all that concerns 
 him, did not long survive this incident. He entered 
 the King's regiment, and when just upon the point 
 of joining it in the following spring, came to me and 
 said he had had his fortune told by a woman named 
 Du Perchoir, who practised her trade secretly at Paris, 
 and that she had predicted he would be soon drowned. 
 I rated him soundly for indulging a curiosity so dan- 
 gerous and so foolish. A few days after he set out for 
 Amiens. He found another fortune-teller there, a 
 man who made the same prediction. In inarching 
 afterwards with the regiment of the King to join the 
 army, he wished to water his horse in the Escaut, 
 and was drowned there, in the presence of the whole 
 regiment, without it being possible to give him any 
 aid. I felt extreme regret for his loss, which for his 
 friends and his family was irreparable. 
 
 But I must go back a little, and speak of two mar- 
 riages that took place at the commencement of this 
 year, the first (most extraordinary) on the 18th Febru- 
 ary, the other a month after.
 
 14 THE KING'S NATURAL CHILDREN. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The King's natural Children Proposed Marriage of the Due de Chartres 
 Influence of Dubois The Due and the King An Apartment 
 Announcement of the Marriage Anger of Madame Household of the 
 Duchesse Villars and Kochefort Friend of King's Mistresses The 
 Marriage Ceremony Toilette of the Duchesse Son of Montbron 
 Marriage of M. du Maine Duchess of Hanover Due de Choiseul 
 La Grande Mademoiselle. 
 
 THE King was very anxious to establish his ille- 
 gitimate children, whom he advanced day by day ; and 
 had married two of them, daughters, to Princes of the 
 blood. One of these, the Princesse de Conti, only 
 daughter of the King and Madame de la Valliere, was 
 a widow without children; the other, eldest daughter 
 of the King and Madame de Montespan, had married 
 Monsieur le Due (Louis de Bourbon, eldest son of the 
 Prince de Conde). For some time past Madame de 
 Maintenon, even more than the King, had thought of 
 nothing else than how to raise the remaining ille- 
 gitimate children, and wished to marry Mademoiselle 
 de Blois (second daughter of the King and of Madame 
 de Montespan) to Monsieur the Due de Chartres. 
 The Due de Chartres was the sole nephew of the 
 King, and was much above the Princes of the blood by 
 his rank of Grandson of France, and by the Court 
 that Monsieur his father kept up. 
 
 The marriages of the two Princes of the blood, of 
 which I have just spoken, had scandalised all the
 
 PROPOSED MARRIAGE OP THE DUC DE CHARTRES. 15 
 
 world. The King was not ignorant of this ; and he 
 could thus judge of the effect of a marriage even more 
 startling ; such as was this proposed one. But for four 
 years he had turned it over in his mind, and had even 
 taken the first steps to bring it about. It was the 
 more difficult because the father of the Due de 
 Chartres was infinitely proud of his rank, and the 
 mother belonged to a nation which abhorred illegi- 
 timacy and misalliances, and was indeed of a character 
 to forbid alhhope of her ever relishing this marriage. 
 
 In order to vanquish all these obstacles, the King 
 applied to M. le Grand (Louis de Lorraine). This 
 person was brother of the Chevalier de Lorraine, 
 the favourite, by disgraceful means, of Monsieur, 
 father of the Due de Chartres. The two brothers, 
 unscrupulous and corrupt, entered willingly into the 
 scheme, but demanded as a reward, paid in advance, 
 to be made " Chevaliers of the Order." This was 
 done, although somewhat against the inclination of the 
 King ; and success was promised. 
 
 The young Due de Chartres had at that time for 
 teacher Dubois, (afterwards the famous Cardinal 
 Dubois,) whose history was singular. He had for- 
 merly been a valet ; but displaying unusual aptitude 
 for learning, had been instructed by his master in 
 literature and history, and in due time passed into 
 the service of Saint Laurent, who was the Due de 
 Chartres' first instructor. He became so useful and 
 showed so much skill, that Saint Laurent made him 
 become an abbe. Thus raised in position, he passed 
 much time with the Due de Chartres, assisting him to
 
 1G INFLUENCE OF DUBOIS. 
 
 prepare his lessons, to write his exercises, and to look 
 out words in the dictionary. I have seen him thus 
 engaged over and over again, when I used to go and 
 play with the Due de Chartres. As Saint Laurent 
 grew infirm, Dubois little by little supplied his place ; 
 supplied it well too, and yet pleased the young Due. 
 When St. Laurent died Dubois aspired to succeed to 
 him. He had paid his court to the Chevalier de 
 Lorraine, by whose influence he was much aided in 
 obtaining his wish. "When at last appointed successor 
 to St. Laurent, I never saw a man so glad, nor with 
 more reason. The extreme obligation he was under 
 to the Chevalier de Lorraine, and still more the 
 difficulty of maintaining himself in his new position, 
 attached him more and more to his protector. 
 
 It was, then, Dubois that the Chevalier de Lorraine 
 made use of to gain the consent of the young Due 
 de Chartres to the marriage proposed by the King. 
 Dubois had, in fact, gained the Due's confidence, 
 which it was easy to do at that age ; had made him 
 afraid of his father and of the King ; and, on the 
 other hand, had filled him with fine hopes and expecta- 
 tions. All that Dubois could do, however, when he 
 broke the matter of the marriage to the young Due, 
 was to ward off a direct refusal; but that was suf- 
 ficient for the success of the enterprise. Monsieur 
 was already gained, and as soon as the King had a 
 reply from Dubois he hastened to broach the affair. 
 A day or two before this, however, Madame (mother of 
 the Due de Chartres) had scent of what was going on. 
 She spoke to her son of the indignity of this marriage
 
 INTERVIEW OF THE DUG AND THE KING. 17 
 
 with that force, in which she was never wanting, and 
 drew from him a promise that he would not consent to it. 
 Thus, he was feeble towards his teacher, feeble towards 
 his mother, and there was aversion on the one hand and 
 fear on the other, and great embarrassment on all sides. 
 One day early after dinner I saw M. de Chartres, 
 with a very sad air, come out of his apartment and 
 enter the closet of the King. He found his Majesty 
 alone with Monsieur. The King spoke very obligingly 
 to the Due de Chartres, said that he wished to see 
 him married ; that he offered him his daughter, but 
 that he did not intend to constrain him in the matter 
 but left him quite at liberty. This discourse, how- 
 ever, pronounced with that terrifying majesty so 
 natural to the King, and addressed to a timid young 
 prince, took away his voice and quite unnerved him. 
 He thought to escape from his slippery position by 
 throwing himself upon Monsieur and Madame, and 
 stammeringly replied that the King was master, but 
 that a son's will depended upon that of his parents. 
 " What you say is very proper," replied the King ; 
 " but as soon as you consent to my proposition your 
 father and mother will not oppose it." And then 
 turning to Monsieur he said, "Is this not true, my 
 brother ? " Monsieur consented, as he had already 
 done, and the only person remaining to consult was 
 Madame", who was immediately sent for. 
 
 As soon as she came, the King, making her acquainted 
 with his project, said that he reckoned she would not 
 oppose what her husband and her son had already 
 agreed to. Madame, who had counted upon the refusal
 
 18 AN APARTMENT. 
 
 of her son, was tongue-tied. She threw two furious 
 glances upon Monsieur and upon the Due de Chartres, 
 and then said, that, as they wished it, she had nothing 
 to say, made a slight reverence, and went away. Her 
 son immediately followed her to explain his conduct ; 
 but railing against him, with tears in her eyes, she 
 would not listen, and drove him from her room. Her 
 husband, who shortly afterwards joined her, met with 
 almost the same treatment. 
 
 That evening an " Apartment " was held at the 
 palace, as was customary three times a week during the 
 winter ; the other three evenings being set apart for 
 comedy, and the Sunday being free. An Apartment, 
 as it was called, was an assemblage of all the Court in 
 the grand saloon, from seven o'clock in the evening 
 until ten, when the King sat down to table ; and, after 
 ten, in one of the saloons at the end of the grand 
 gallery towards the tribune of the chapel. In the first 
 place there was some music : then tables were placed 
 all about for all kinds of gambling ; there was a lans- 
 quenet, at which Monsieur and Monseigneur always 
 played ; also a billiard-table ; in a word, every one was 
 free to play with every one, and allowed to ask for 
 fresh tables if all the others were occupied. Beyond 
 the billiards was a refreshment-room. All was per- 
 fectly lighted. At the outset the King went to the 
 " apartments " very often and played, but lately he had 
 ceased to do so. He spent the evening with Madame 
 de Maintenon, working with different ministers one 
 after the other. But still he wished his courtiers to 
 attend assiduously.
 
 ANNOUNCEMENT OF THE MARRIAGE . 19 
 
 This evening, directly after the music had finished, the 
 King sent for Monseigneur and Monsieur, Avho were 
 already playing at lansquenet ; Madame, who scarcely 
 looked at a party of hombre at which she had seated 
 herself; the Due de Chartres, who, with a rueful 
 visage, was playing at chess ; and Mademoiselle de 
 Blois, who had scarcely begun to appear in society, but 
 who this evening was extraordinarily decked out, and 
 who, as yet, knew nothing and suspected notliing ; and 
 therefore, being naturally very timid, and horribly afraid 
 of the King, believed herself sent for in order to be 
 reprimanded, and trembled so that Madame de Main- 
 tenon took her upon her knees, where she held her, but 
 was scarcely able to reassure her. The fact of these 
 royal persons being sent for by the King, at once made 
 people think that a marriage was in contemplation. In 
 a few minutes they returned, and then the announce- 
 ment was made public. I arrived at that moment. I 
 found everybody in clusters, and great astonishment ex- 
 pressed upon every face. Madame was walking in the 
 gallery with Chateauthiers her favourite, and worthy 
 of being so. She took long strides, her handkerchief 
 in her hand, weeping without constraint, speaking 
 pretty loudly, gesticulating, and looking like Ceres 
 after the rape of her daughter Proserpine, seeking her 
 in fury, and demanding her back from Jupiter. Every 
 one respectfully made way to let her pass. Monsieur, 
 who had returned to lansquenet, seemed overwhelmed 
 with shame, and his son appeared in despair ; and the 
 bride elect was marvellously embarrassed and sad. 
 Though very young, and likely to be dazzled by such 
 
 c 2
 
 20 ANGER OF MADAME. 
 
 a marriage, she understood what was passing, and 
 feared the consequences. Most people appeared full 
 of consternation. 
 
 The Apartment, which, however heavy in appearance, 
 was full of interest to me, seemed quite short. It 
 finished by the supper of the King. His Majesty ap- 
 peared quite at ease. Madanie's eyes were full of 
 tears, which fell from time to time as she looked into 
 every face around, as if in search of all our thoughts. 
 Her son, whose eyes too were red, she would not give 
 a glance to ; nor to Monsieur : all three ate scarcely 
 anything. I remarked that the King offered Madame 
 nearly all the dishes that were before him, and that 
 she refused with an air of rudeness Avhich did not how- 
 ever check his politeness. It was furthermore notice- 
 able, that after leaving the table he made to Madame a 
 very marked and very low reverence, during which she 
 performed so complete a pirouette, that the King on 
 raising his head found nothing but her back before 
 him, removed about a step further towards the door. 
 
 On the morrow we went as usual to wait in the 
 gallery for the breaking up of the council and for the 
 King's Mass. Madame came there. Her son ap- 
 proached her, as he did every da} T , to kiss her hand. At 
 that very moment she gave him a box on the ear, so 
 sonorous that it was heard several steps distant. Such 
 treatment in presence of all the Court covered with 
 confusion this unfortunate prince, and overwhelmed 
 the infinite number of spectators, of whom I was one, 
 with prodigious astonishment. 
 
 That day the immense dowry was declared ; and on
 
 HOUSEHOLD OF THE DUCHESSE. 21 
 
 Sunday there was a grand ball, that is, a ball opened 
 by a branle, which settled the order of the dancing 
 throughout the evening. Monseigneur the Due de 
 Bourgogne danced on this occasion for the first time ; 
 and led off the branle with Mademoiselle. I danced 
 also for the first time at Court. My partner Avas 
 Mademoiselle de Sourches, daughter of the Grand 
 Prevot; she danced excellently. I had been that 
 morning to wait on Madame, who could not refrain from 
 saying, in a sharp and angry voice, that I was doubtless 
 very glad of the promise of so many balls, that this was 
 natural at my age ; but that, for her part, she was old 
 and wished they were well over. A few days after, 
 the contract of marriage was signed in the closet of 
 the King, and in the presence of all the Court. The 
 same day the household of the future Duchesse de 
 Chartres was declared. The King gave her a first 
 gentleman usher and a Dame d'Atours, until then 
 reserved to the daughters of France, and a lady of 
 honour, in order to carry out completely so strange a 
 novelty. I must say something about the persons who 
 composed this household. 
 
 M. de Villars was gentleman usher : he was grand- 
 son of a recorder of Coindrieu, and one of the best- 
 made men in France. There was a great deal' of 
 fighting in his young days ; and he had acquired a 
 reputation for courage and skill. To these qualities 
 he owed his fortune. M. de Nemours was his first 
 patron, and, in a duel which he had with M. de Beau- 
 fort, took Villars for second. M. de Nemours was 
 killed; but Villars was victorious against his adver-
 
 22 VILLAES AND KOCHEFORT. 
 
 sary,* and passed into the service of the Prince de 
 Conti as one of his gentlemen. He succeeded in 
 gaining confidence in his new employment ; so much 
 so, that the marriage which afterwards took place 
 between the Prince de Conti and the niece of Cardinal 
 Mazarin, was brought about in part by his assistance. 
 He became the confidant of the married pair, and their 
 bond of union with the Cardinal. His position gave 
 him an opportunity of mixing in society much above 
 him ; but on this he never presumed. His face was 
 his passport with the ladies : he was gallant, even 
 discreet; and this means was not unuseful to him. 
 He pleased Madame Scarron, whot upon the throne 
 never forgot the friendships of this kind, so freely 
 intimate, which she had formed as a private person. 
 Villars was employed in diplomacy ; and from honour 
 to honour, at last reached the order of the Saint 
 Esprit, in 1698. His wife was full of wit, and scan- 
 dalously inclined. Both were very poor and always 
 dangled about the Court, where they had many powerful 
 friends. 
 
 The Marechale de Bochefort was lady of honour. 
 She was of the house of Montmorency a widow 
 handsome sprightly ; formed by nature to live at 
 Court apt for gallantry and intrigues ; full of worldly 
 cleverness, from living much in the world, with little 
 cleverness of any other kind, nearly enough for any 
 post and any business. M. de Louvois found her 
 
 * The seconds used to fight as well as the principals in those days. 
 *t" As Madame de Maintenon.
 
 FRIEND OF THE KING'S MISTRESSES. 23 
 
 suited to his taste, and she accommodated herself 
 very well to his purse, and to the display she made 
 by this intimacy. She always became the friend of 
 every new mistress of the King ; and when he favoured 
 Madame de Soubise, it was at the Marechale's house 
 that she waited, with closed doors, for Bontems, 
 the King's valet, who led her by private ways to his 
 Majesty. The Marechale herself has related to me, 
 how one day she was embarrassed to get rid of the 
 people that Madame de Soubise (who had not had time 
 to announce her arrival) found at her house ; and how 
 she almost died of fright lest Bontems should return 
 and the interview be broken off if he arrived before the 
 company had departed. The Marechale de Rochefort 
 was in this way the friend of Mesdames de la Valliere, 
 de Montespan, and de Soubise ; and she became the 
 friend of Madame de Maintenon, to whom she attached 
 herself in proportion as she saw her favour increase. 
 She had, at the marriage of Monseigneur, been made 
 Dame d'Atours to the new Dauphiness ; and, if people 
 were astonished at that, they were also astonished to 
 see her lady of honour to an illegitimate " grand- 
 daughter of France." 
 
 The Comtesse de Mailly was Dame d'Atours. 
 She was related to Madame de Maintenon, to whose 
 favour she owed her marriage with the Count de 
 Mailly. She had come to Paris with all her provincial 
 awkwardness, and, from want of wit, had never been 
 able to get rid of it. On the contrary, she grafted 
 thereon an immense conceit, caused by the favour of 
 Madame de Maintenon. To complete the household,
 
 24 THE MARRIAGE CEREMONY. 
 
 came M. cle Fontaine -Martel, poor and gouty, who was 
 first master of the horse. 
 
 On the Monday before Shrove Tuesday, all the 
 marriage party and the bride and bridegroom, superbly 
 dressed, repaired, a little before mid-day, to the closet 
 of the King, and afterwards to the chapel. It was 
 arranged, as usual, for the Mass of the King, excepting 
 that between his place and the altar were two cushions 
 for the bride and bridegroom, who turned their backs 
 to the King. Cardinal de Bouillon, in full robes, 
 married them, and said Mass. From the chapel all 
 the company went to table : it was of horse-shoe 
 shape. The Princes and Princesses of the blood were 
 placed at the right and at the left, according to their 
 rank, terminated by the two illegitimate children of the 
 King, and, for the first time, after them, the Duchesse 
 de Verneuil ; so that M. de Verneuil, illegitimate son 
 of Henry IV., became thus "Prince of the blood" so 
 many years after his death, without having ever sus- 
 pected it. The Due d'Uzes thought this so amusing 
 that he marched in front of the Duchesse, crying out, 
 as loud as he could "Place, place for Madame 
 Charlotte Seguier ! " * In the afternoon the King and 
 Queen of England came to Versailles, with their 
 Court. There was a great concert; and the play- 
 tables were set out. The supper was similar to the 
 dinner. Afterwards the married couple were led into 
 the apartment of the new Duchesse de Chartres. The 
 
 * The Duchesse de Verneuil was second daughter of the Chancelier 
 Seguier. I have left this bon mot, so savourless at present, as an instance 
 how much wit sometimes depends on circumstances especially the wit of 
 nobles.
 
 TOILETTE OF THE DUCHESSE. 25 
 
 Queen of England gave the Duchesse her chemise ; and 
 the shirt of the Due was given to him by the King, 
 who had at first refused on the plea that he was in too 
 unhappy circumstances. The benediction of the bed 
 was pronounced by the Cardinal de Bouillon, who kept 
 us all waiting for a quarter of an hour ; which made 
 people say that such airs little became a man returned 
 as he was from a long exile, to which he had been 
 sent because he had had the madness to refuse the 
 nuptial benediction to Madame la Duchesse unless 
 admitted to the royal banquet ! 
 
 On Shrove Tuesday, there was a grand toilette of 
 the Ducliesse de Chartres, to which the King and all 
 the Court came ; and in the evening a grand ball, 
 similar to that which had just taken place, except that 
 the new Duchesse de Chartres was led out by the 
 Due de Bourgogne. Every one wore the same dress, 
 and had the same partner as before. 
 
 I cannot pass over in silence a very ridiculous 
 adventure which occurred at both of these balls. A 
 son of Montbron, no more made to dance at Court 
 than his father was to be chevalier of the order (to 
 which, however, he was promoted in 1688), was among 
 the company. He had been asked if he danced well ; 
 and he had replied with a confidence w T hich made every 
 one hope that the contrary was the case. Every one was 
 satisfied. From the very first bow, he became confused, 
 and he lost step at once. He tried to divert attention 
 from his mistake by affected attitudes, and carrying his 
 arms high ; but this made him only more ridiculous, 
 and excited bursts of laughter, which, in despite of
 
 26 SON OF MONTBRON. 
 
 the respect due to the person of the King (who like- 
 wise had great difficulty to hinder himself from 
 laughing), degenerated at length into regular hooti^- 
 On the morrow, instead of flying the Court or holding 
 his tongue, he excused himself by saying that the pre- 
 sence of the King had disconcerted him, and promised 
 marvels for the ball which was to follow. He was 
 one of my friends, and I felt for him. I should even 
 have warned him against a second attempt, if the very 
 different success I had met with had not made me fear 
 that my advice would be taken in ill part. As soon as 
 he began to dance at the second ball, those who were 
 near stood up, those who were far off climbed wherever 
 they could to get a sight ; and the shouts of laughter 
 were mingled with clapping of hands. Every one, even 
 the King himself, laughed heartily, and most of us quite 
 loud, so that I do not think any one was ever treated 
 so before. Montbron disappeared immediately after- 
 wards, and did not show himself again for a long time. 
 It was a pity he exposed himself to this defeat, for he 
 was an honourable and brave man. 
 
 Ash Wednesday put an end to all these sad rejoic- 
 ings by command, and only the expected rejoicings 
 were spoken of. M. du Maine wished to marry. The 
 King tried to turn him from it, and said frankly to 
 him, that it was not for such as he to make a lineage- 
 But pressed by Madame de Maintenon, who had 
 educated M. du Maine, and who felt for him as a 
 nurse, the King resolved to marry him to a daughter 
 of the Prince de Conde. The Prince was greatly 
 pleased at the project. He had three daughters for
 
 MARRIAGE OF M. DU MAINE. 27 
 
 M. du Maine to choose from : all three were extremely 
 little. Ail inch of height, that the second had above 
 t^ie others, procured for her the preference, much to 
 the grief of the eldest, who was beautiful and clever, 
 and who dearly wished to escape from the slavery in 
 which her father kept her. The dignity with which 
 she bore her disappointment was admired by every 
 one, but it cost her an effort that ruined her health. 
 The marriage once arranged, was celebrated on the 
 19th of March, much in the same manner as had been 
 that of the Due de Chartres. Madame de Saint- 
 Vallery was appointed lady of honour to Madame du 
 Maine, and M. de Montchevreuil gentleman of the 
 chamber. This last had been one of the friends of 
 Madame de Maintenon when she was Madame Scarron. 
 Montchevreuil was a very honest man, modest, brave, 
 but thick-headed. His wife was a tall creature, 
 meagre, and yellow, who laughed sillily, and showed 
 long and ugly teeth ; who was extremely devout, of a 
 compassed mien, and who only wanted a broomstick to 
 be a perfect witch. Without possessing any wit, she had 
 so captivated Madame de Maintenon, that the latter 
 saw only with her eyes. All the ladies of the Court 
 were under her surveillance : they depended upon her 
 for their distinctions, and often for their fortunes. 
 Everybody, from the ministers to the daughters of the 
 King, trembled before her. The King himself showed 
 her the most marked consideration. She was of all 
 the Court journeys, and always with Madame de 
 Maintenon. 
 
 The marriage of M. du Maine caused a rupture
 
 28 DUCHESS OF HANOVER. 
 
 between the Princess de Conde and the Duchess of 
 Hanover her sister, who had strongly desired M. du 
 Maine for one of her daughters, and who pretended 
 that the Prince de Conde had cut the grass from under 
 her feet. She lived in Paris, making a display quite 
 unsuited to her rank, and had even carried it so far as 
 to go about with two coaches and many livery servants. 
 "NVith this state one day she met in the streets the coach 
 of Madame de Bouillon, which the servants of the 
 German woman forced to give way to their mistress's. 
 The Bouillons, piqued to excess, resolved to be 
 revenged. One day, when they knew the Duchess was 
 going to the play, they went there attended by a 
 numerous livery. Their servants had orders to pick a 
 quarrel with those of the Duchess. They executed 
 these orders completely ; the servants of the Duchess 
 were thoroughly thrashed the harness of her horses 
 cut her coaches maltreated. The Duchess made a 
 great fuss, and complained to the King, but he would 
 not mix himself in the matter. She was so outraged, 
 that she resolved to retire into Germany, and in a very 
 few months did so. 
 
 My year of service in the Musketeers being over, 
 the King, after a time, gave me, without purchase, a 
 company of cavalry in the Royal Houssillon, in garrison 
 at Mons, and just then very incomplete. I thanked 
 the King, who replied to me very obligingly. The 
 company was entirely made up in a fortnight. This 
 was towards the middle of April. 
 
 A little before, that is, on the 27th of March, the 
 King made seven new marechals of France. They
 
 DUG DE CHOISEUL. 2 ( J 
 
 were the Comte cle Choiseul, the Due de Villeroy, the 
 Marquis de Jo} T euse, Tourville, the Due de Noailles, 
 the Marquis de Boufflers, and Catinat. These pro- 
 motions caused very great discontent. Complaint 
 was more especially made that the Due de Choiseul 
 had not been named. The cause of his exclusion is 
 curious. His wife, beautiful, with the form of a 
 goddess, notorious for the number of her gallantries, 
 was very intimate with the Princesse de Conti. The 
 King, not liking such a companion for his daughter, 
 gave the Due de Choiseul to understand that the 
 public disorders of the Duchess offended him. If the 
 Duke would send her into a convent, the Marechal's 
 baton would be his. The Due de Choiseul, indig- 
 nant that the reward of his services in the Avar was 
 attached to a domestic affair which concerned himself 
 alone, refused promotion on such terms. He thus 
 lost the baton ; and, what was worse for him, the 
 Duchesse soon after was driven from Court, and so 
 misbehaved herself, that at last he could endure her 
 no longer, drove her away himself, and separated from 
 her for ever. 
 
 Mademoiselle la grande Mademoiselle, as she was 
 called, to distinguish her from the daughter of Mon- 
 sieur or to call her by her name, Mademoiselle de 
 Montpensier, died on Sunday, the 5th of April, at her 
 palace of the Luxembourg, sixty-three years of age, and 
 the richest private princess in Europe. She interested 
 herself much in those who were related to her, even to 
 the lowest degree, and wore mourning for them, how- 
 ever far removed. It is well known, from all the
 
 30 LA GRANDE MADEMOISELLE. 
 
 memoirs of the time, that she was greatly in love with 
 M. de Lauzun, and that she suffered much when the 
 King withheld his permission to their marriage. M. 
 de Lauzan was so enraged, that he could not contain 
 himself, and at last went so far beyond hounds, that 
 he was sent prisoner to Pignerol, where he remained, 
 extremely ill treated, for ten years. The affection of 
 Mademoiselle did not grow cold by separation. The 
 King profited by it, to make M. de Lauzun buy his 
 liberty at her expense, and thus enriched M. du Maine. 
 He always gave out that he had married Mademoiselle, 
 and appeared before the King, after her death, in a 
 long cloak, which gave great displeasure. He also 
 assumed ever afterwards a dark brown livery, as an 
 eternal expression of his grief for Mademoiselle, of 
 whom he had portraits everywhere. As for Made- 
 moiselle, the King never quite forgave her the day of 
 Saint Antoine ; and I heard him once at supper 
 reproach her in jest, for having fired the cannons of 
 the Bastille upon his troops. She was a little embar- 
 rassed, but she got out of the difficulty very well. 
 
 Her body was laid out with great state, watched for 
 several days, two hours at a time, by a duchess or a 
 princess, and by two ladies of quality. The Comtesse 
 de Soissons refused to take part in this watching, and 
 would not obey until the King threatened to dismiss 
 her from the Court. A very ridiculous accident hap- 
 pened in the midst of this ceremony. The urn con- 
 taining the entrails fell over, with a frightful noise 
 and a stink sudden and intolerable. The ladies, the 
 heralds, the psalmodists, everybody present fled in
 
 A RIDICULOUS INCIDENT. 81 
 
 confusion. Every one tried to gain the door first. 
 The entrails had been badly embalmed, and it was 
 their fermentation which caused the accident. They 
 were soon perfumed and put in order, and everybodj^ 
 laughed at this mishap. These entrails were in the 
 end carried to the Celestins, the heart to Val de 
 Grace, and the body to the Cathedral of Saint Denis, 
 followed by a numerous company.
 
 32 DEATH OF MY FATHER. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Death of my Father Anecdotes of Louis XIII. The Cardinal de Riche- 
 lieu The Due de Bellegarde Madame de Hautefort My Father's 
 Enemy His Services and Reward A Duel against Law An answer 
 to a Libel M. de la Rochefoucauld My Father's Gratitude to 
 Louis XIII. 
 
 Ox May 3rd, 1693, the King announced his intention 
 of placing himself at the head of his army in Flanders, 
 and, having made certain alterations in the rule of 
 precedence of the marechals of France, soon after 
 began the campaign. I have here, however, to draw 
 attention to my private affairs, for on the above-men- 
 tioned day, at ten o'clock in the morning, I had the 
 misfortune to lose my father. He was eighty-seven 
 years of age, and had been in bad health for some 
 time, with a touch of gout during the last three 
 weeks. On the day in question he had dined as usual 
 with his friends, had retired to bed, and, while talking to 
 those around him there, all at once gave three violent 
 sighs. He was dead almost before it was perceived 
 that he was ill ; there w y as no more oil in the lamp. 
 
 I learned this sad news after seeing the King to bed ; 
 his Majesty was to purge himself on the morrow. The 
 night was given to the just sentiments of nature ; but the 
 next day I went early to visit Bontems, and then the Due 
 de Beauvilliers, who promised to ask the King as soon
 
 ANECDOTES OF LOUIS XIII. 33 
 
 as his curtains were opened, to grant me the offices 
 nay father had held. The King very graciously com- 
 plied with his request, and in the afternoon said many 
 obliging things to me, particularly expressing his 
 regret that my father had not been able to receive the 
 last sacraments. I was able to say that a very short 
 time before, my father had retired for several days to 
 Saint Lazare, where was his confessor, and added some- 
 thing, on the piety of his life. The King exhorted me 
 to behave well, and promised to take care of me. 
 When my father was first taken ill, several persons, 
 amongst others D'Aubigne, brother of Madame de 
 Maintenon, had asked for the governorship of Blaye. 
 But the King refused them all, and said very bluntly 
 to D'Aubigne, " Is there not a son ? " He had, in 
 fact, always given my father to understand I should 
 succeed him, although generally he did not allow offices 
 to descend from father to son. 
 
 Let me say a few words about my father. Our 
 family in my grandfather's time had become impove- 
 rished ; and my father was early sent to the Court as 
 page to Louis XIII. It was very customary then for 
 the sons of reduced gentlemen to accept this occu- 
 pation. The King was passionately fond of hunting, 
 an amusement that was carried on with far less state, 
 without that abundance of dogs, and followers, and 
 conveniences of all kinds which his successor intro- 
 duced, and especially without roads through the forests. 
 My father, who noticed the impatience of the King at 
 the delays that occurred in changing horses, thought 
 of turning the head of the horse he brought towards 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 34 THE CARDINAL DE RICHELIEU. 
 
 the crupper of that which the King quitted. By'this 
 means, without putting his feet to the ground, his 
 Majesty, who was active, jumped from one horse to 
 another. He was so pleased that whenever he changed 
 horses, he asked for this same page. From that time 
 my father grew day by day in favour. The King made 
 him Chief Ecuyer, and in course of years bestowed 
 other rewards upon him, created him Due and peer of 
 France, and gave him the Government of Blaye. My 
 father, much attached to the King, followed him in all 
 his expeditions, several times commanded the cavalry of 
 the army, was comniander-in-chief of all the arrierebans 
 of the kingdom, and acquired great reputation in the 
 field for his valour and skill. "With Cardinal Richelieu 
 he was intimate without S}Tiipathy, and more than once, 
 but notably on the famous Day of the Dupes, rendered 
 signal service to that minister. My father used often 
 to be startled out of his sleep in the middle of the night 
 by a valet, with a taper in his hand, drawing the 
 curtain having behind him the Cardinal de Richelieu, 
 who would often take the taper and sit down upon the 
 bed and exclaim that he was a lost man, and ask my 
 father's advice upon news that he had received or on 
 quarrels he had had with the King. When all Paris 
 was in consternation at the success of the Spaniards, 
 who had crossed the frontier, taken Corbie, and 
 seized all the country as far ^ Compiegne, the King 
 insisted on my father being present at the council 
 which was then held. The Cardinal de Richelieu 
 maintained that the King should retreat beyond the 
 Seine, and all the assembly seemed of that opinion.
 
 THE DUG DE BELLEGARDE. 35 
 
 But the King in a speech which lasted a quarter of an 
 hour opposed this, and said that to retreat at such a 
 moment would be to increase the general disorder. 
 Then turning to my father he ordered him to be pre- 
 pared to depart for Corbie on the morrow, with as 
 many of his men as he could get ready. The histories 
 and the memoirs of the time show that this bold 
 step saved the state. The Cardinal, great man as he 
 was, trembled, until the first appearance of success, 
 when he grew bold enough to join the King. This is 
 a specimen of the conduct of that weak King governed 
 by that first minister to whom poets and historians 
 have given the glory they have stripped from his 
 master ; as, for instance, all the works of the siege of 
 Eochelle, and the invention and unheard-of success 
 of the celebrated dyke, all solely due to the late 
 King ! 
 
 Louis XIII. loved my father ; but he could scold 
 him at times. On two occasions he did so. The first, 
 as my father has related to me, was on account of 
 the Due de Bellegarde. The Duke was in disgrace, 
 and had been exiled. My father, who was a friend of 
 his, wished to write to him one day, and for want of 
 other leisure, being then much occupied, took the 
 opportunity of the King's momentary absence to carry 
 out his desire. Just as he was finishing his letter, the 
 King came in ; my father tried to hide the paper, but 
 the eyes of the King were too quick for him. " What 
 is that paper ? " said he. My father, embarrassed, 
 admitted that it was a few words he had written to M/ 
 <le Bellegarde.
 
 36 MADAME DE HAUTEFORT. 
 
 " Let me see it," said the King ; and he took 
 the paper and read it. "I don't find fault with you," 
 said he, " for writing to your friends, although in dis- 
 grace, for I know you will write nothing improper ; but 
 what displeases me is, that you should fail in the 
 respect you owe to a duke and peer, in that, because 
 he is exiled, you should omit to address him as 
 Monseigneur ; " and then tearing the letter in two, he 
 added, " Write it again after the hunt, and put Mon- 
 seigneur, as you ought." My father was very glad 
 to be let off so easily. 
 
 The other reprimand was upon a more serious 
 subject. The King was really enamoured of Mademoi- 
 selle d'Hautefort. My father, young and gallant, could 
 not comprehend why he did not gratify his love. He 
 believed his reserve to arise from timidity, and under 
 this impression proposed one day to the King to be 
 his ambassador and to bring the affair to a satisfactory 
 conclusion. The King allowed him to speak to the 
 end, and then assumed a severe air. " It is true," said 
 he, " that I am enamoured of her, that I feel it, that I 
 seek her, that I speak of her willingly and think of 
 her still more willingly; it is true also that I act 
 thus in spite of myself, because I am mortal and have 
 this weakness ; but the more facility I have as King to 
 gratify myself, the more I ought to be on my guard 
 against sin and scandal. I pardon you this time, but 
 never address to me a similar discourse again if you 
 wish that I should continue to love you." This was a 
 thunderbolt for my father: the scales fell from his 
 eyes; the idea of the King's timidity in love dis-
 
 MY FATHER'S ENEMY. 37 
 
 appeared before the display of a virtue so pure and so 
 triumphant. 
 
 My father's career was for a long time very suc- 
 cessful, but unfortunately he had an enemy who 
 brought it to an end. This enemy was M. de Cha- 
 vigny: he was secretary of state, and had also the 
 war department. Either from stupidity or malice he 
 had left all the towns in Picardy badly supported ; a 
 circumstance the Spaniards knew well how to profit by 
 when they took Corbie in 1636. My father had an 
 uncle who commanded in one of these towns, La 
 Capelle, and who had several times asked for ammuni- 
 tion and stores without success. My father spoke upon 
 this subject to Chavigny, to the Cardinal de Richelieu, 
 and to the King, but with no good effect. La Capelle, 
 left without resources, fell like the places around. As 
 I have said before, Louis XIII. did not long allow the 
 Spaniards to enjoy the advantages they had gained. 
 All the towns in Picardy were soon retaken, and the 
 King, urged on by Chavigny, determined to punish the 
 governors of these places for surrendering them so 
 easily. My father's uncle was included with the 
 others. This injustice was not to be borne. My 
 father represented the real state of the case and used 
 every effort to save his uncle, but it was in vain. Stung 
 to the quick he demanded permission to retire, and 
 was allowed to do so. Accordingly, at the commencement 
 of 1637, he left for Blaye, and remained there until the 
 death of Cardinal Richelieu. During this retirement 
 the King frequently wrote to him, in a language they 
 had composed so as to speak before people without
 
 38 MY FATHER'S SERVICES AND REWARD. 
 
 being understood ; and I possess still many of these 
 letters, with much regret that I am ignorant of their 
 contents. 
 
 Chavigny served my father another ill turn. At the 
 Cardinal's death my father had returned to the Court 
 and was in greater favour than ever. Just before 
 Louis XIII. died, he gave my father the place of first 
 master of the horse, but left his name blank in the 
 paper fixing the appointment. The paper was given 
 into the hands of Chavigny. At the King's death he 
 had the villany, in concert with the Queen-regent, to fill 
 in the name of Comte d'Harcourt, instead of that the 
 King had instructed him of. The indignation of my 
 father was great, but, as he could obtain no redress, he 
 retired once again to his Government of Blaye. Notwith- 
 standing the manner in which he had been treated by 
 the Queen-regent, he stoutly defended her cause when 
 the civil war broke out, led by M. le Prince. He garri- 
 soned Blaye at his own expense, incurring thereby debts, 
 which hung upon him all his life, and which I feel the 
 effects of still, and repulsed all attempts of friends to 
 corrupt his loyalty. The Queen and Mazarin could 
 not close their eyes to his devotion, and offered him r 
 while the war was still going on, a marechal's baton, or 
 the title of foreign prince. But he refused both, and 
 the offer was not renewed when the war ended. These 
 disturbances over, and Louis XIV. being married, 
 my father came again to Paris, where he had many 
 friends. He had married in 1644, and had had, as I have 
 said, one only daughter. His wife dying in 1670, and 
 leaving him without male children, he determined, how-
 
 A DUEL AGAINST LAW. 39 
 
 ever much he might be afflicted at the loss he had sus- 
 tained, to marry again, although old. He carried out 
 his resolution in October of the same year, and was 
 very pleased with the choice he had made. He liked 
 his new wife so much, in fact, that when Madame de 
 Montespan obtained for her a place at the Court, he 
 declined it at once. At his age, it was thus he wrote 
 to Madame de Montespan, he had taken a wife not for 
 the Court, but for himself. My mother, who was absent 
 when the letter announcing the appointment was sent, 
 felt much regret, but never showed it. 
 
 Before I finish this account of my father, I will here 
 relate adventures which happened to him, and which 
 I ought to have placed before his second marriage. 
 A disagreement arose between my father and M. de 
 Vardes, and still existed long after everybody thought 
 they were reconciled. It was ultimately agreed that 
 upon an early day, at about twelve o'clock, they should 
 meet at the Porte St. Honore, then a very deserted 
 spot, and that the coach of M. de Vardes should run 
 against my father's, and a general quarrel arise be- 
 tween masters and servants. Under cover of this 
 quarrel, a duel could easily take place, and would 
 seem simply to arise out of the broil there and then 
 occasioned. On the morning appointed, my father 
 called as usual upon several of his friends, and, taking 
 one of them for second, went to the Porte St. Honore; 
 there everything fell out just as had been arranged. The 
 coach of M. de Vardes struck against the other. My 
 father leaped out, M. de Vardes did the same, and the 
 duel took place. M. de Vardes fell, and was disarmed.
 
 40 AN ANSWER TO A LIBEL. 
 
 My father wished to make him beg for his life ; he 
 w r ould not do this, hut confessed himself vanquished. 
 My father's coach being the nearest, M. de Vardes got 
 into it. He fainted on the road. They separated after- 
 wards like brave people, and went their way. Madame 
 de Chatillon, since of Mecklenburg, lodged in one of 
 the last houses near the Porte St. Honore, and at the 
 noise made by the coaches, put her head to the win- 
 dow, and coolly looked at the whole of the combat. 
 It soon made a great noise. My father was compli- 
 mented everywhere. M. de Vardes was sent for ten 
 or twelve days to the Bastille. My father and he after- 
 wards became completely reconciled to each other. 
 
 The other adventure was of gentler ending. The 
 Memoirs of M. de la Rochefoucauld appeared. They 
 contained certain atrocious and false statements against 
 my father, who so severely resented the calumny, that 
 he seized a pen, and wrote upon the margin of the 
 book, " The author has told a He." Not content with 
 this, he went to the bookseller, whom he discovered 
 with some difficulty, for the book was not sold pub- 
 licly at first. He asked to see all the copies of the 
 work prayed, promised, threatened, and at last suc- 
 ceeded in obtaining them. Then he took a pen and wrote 
 in all of them the same marginal note. The astonish- 
 ment of the bookseller may be imagined. He was 
 not long in letting M. de la Rochefoucauld know 
 what had happened to his books : it may well be 
 believed that he also was astonished. This affair 
 made great noise. My father, having truth on his 
 side, wished to obtain public satisfaction from M. de
 
 MY FATHER'S GRATITUDE. 41 
 
 la Rochefoucauld. Friends, however, interposed, and 
 the matter was allowed to drop. But M. de la Roche- 
 foucauld never pardoned my father ; so true it is that 
 we less easily forget the injuries we inflict than those 
 that we receive. 
 
 My father passed the rest of his long life sur- 
 rounded hy friends, and held in high esteem by the 
 King and his ministers. His advice was often sought 
 for by them, and was always acted upon. He never 
 consoled himself for the loss of Louis XIII., to whom 
 he owed his advancement and his fortune. Every 
 year he kept sacred the day of his death, going to St. 
 Denis, or holding solemnities in his own house if at 
 Blaye. Veneration, gratitude, tenderness ever adorned 
 his lips every time he spoke of that Monarch.
 
 42 POSITION OF THE PRINCE OF ORANGE. 
 
 CHAPTEK IV. 
 
 Position of the Prince of Orange Strange conduct of the King Surprise 
 and Indignation Battle of Neerwinden My Return to Paris Death 
 of La Vauguyon Symptoms of Madness Vauguyon at the Bastille 
 Projects of Marriage M. de Beauvilliers A negotiation for a Wife 
 My failure Visit to La Trappe. 
 
 AFTER having paid the last duties to my father I 
 betook myself to Mons to join the Royal Roussillon 
 cavalry regiment, in which I was captain. The King, 
 after stopping eight or ten clays with the ladies at 
 Quesnoy, sent them to Namur, and put himself at 
 the head of the army of M. de Boufflers, and camped 
 at Gernbloux, so that his left was only half a league 
 distant from the right of M. de Luxembourg. The 
 Prince of Orange was encamped at the Abbey of Pure, 
 was unable to receive supplies, and \ could not leave 
 his position without having the two armies of the 
 King to grapple with : he entrenched himself in 
 haste, and bitterly repented having allowed himself 
 to be thus driven into a corner. We knew afterwards 
 that he wrote several times to his intimate friend 
 the Prince de Yaudemont, saying that he was lost, 
 and that nothing short of a miracle could save him. 
 
 "We were in this position with an army in every way 
 infinitely superior to that of the Prince of Orange, and 
 with four whole months before us to profit by our
 
 STRANGE CONDUCT OF THE KING. 43 
 
 strength, when the King declared on the 8th of 
 June that he should return to Versailles, and sent off 
 a large detachment of the army into Germany. The 
 surprise of the Marechal de Luxembourg was without 
 bounds. He represented the facility with which the 
 Prince of Orange might now be beaten with one army 
 and pursued by another ; and how important it was to 
 draw off detachments of the Imperial forces from Ger- 
 many into Flanders, and how, by sending an army into 
 Flanders instead of Germany, the whole of the Low 
 Countries would be in our power. But the King would 
 not change his plans, although M. de Luxembourg went 
 down on his knees and begged him not to allow such a 
 glorious opportunity to escape. Madame de Maintenon, 
 by her tears when she parted from his Majesty, and by 
 her letters since, had brought about this resolution. 
 
 The news had not spread on the morrow, June 9th. 
 I chanced to go alone to the quarters of M. de Lux- 
 embourg, and was surprised to find not a soul there ; 
 every one had gone to the King's army. Pensively 
 bringing my horse to a stand, I was ruminating on a 
 fact so strange, and debating whether I should return 
 to my tent or push on to the royal camp, when up 
 came M. le Prince de Conti with a single page and a 
 groom leading a horse. " What are you doing there ? " 
 cried he, laughing at my surprise. Thereupon he 
 told me he was going to say adieu to the King, and 
 advised me to do likewise. "What do you mean by 
 saying Adieu?" answered I. He sent his servants to 
 a little distance, and begged me to do the same, and 
 with shouts of laughter told me about the King's
 
 44 SURPRISE AND INDIGNATION. 
 
 retreat, making tremendous fun of him, despite my 
 youth, for he had confidence in me. I was astonished. 
 We soon after met the whole company coming back ; 
 and the great people w y ent aside to talk and sneer. I 
 then proceeded to pay my respects to the King, by 
 whom I was honourably received. Surprise, however, 
 was expressed by all faces, and indignation by some. 
 
 The effect of the King's retreat, indeed, was incredi- 
 ble, even amongst the soldiers and the people. The 
 general officers could not keep silent upon it, and the 
 inferior officers spoke loudly, with a licence that could 
 not be restrained. All through the arm} r , in the towns, 
 and even at Court, it was talked about openly. The 
 courtiers, generally so glad to find themselves again at 
 Versailles, now declared that they were ashamed to 
 be there ; as for the enemy, they could not contain 
 their surprise and joy. The Prince of Orange said 
 that the retreat was a miracle he could not have hoped 
 for ; that he could scarcely believe in it, but that it had 
 saved his army and the whole of the Low Countries. 
 In the midst of all this excitement the King arrived 
 with the ladies, on the 25th of June, at Versailles. 
 
 We gained some successes, however, this year. 
 Marechal de Villeroy took Huy in three days, losing 
 only a sub-engineer and some soldiers. On the 29th 
 of July we attacked at dawn the Prince of Orange at 
 Neerwinden, and after twelve hours of hard fighting, 
 under a blazing sun, entirely routed him. I was of 
 the third squadron of the Royal Eoussillon, and 
 made five charges. One of the gold ornaments of my 
 coat was torn away, but I received no wound. During
 
 BATTLE OF NEERWINDEN. 45 
 
 the battle our brigadier, Quoadt, was killed before my 
 eyes. The Due de Feuillade became thus commander 
 of the brigade. We missed him immediately, and for 
 more than half-an-hour saw nothing of him; he had 
 gone to make his toilette. "When he returned he was 
 powdered and decked out in a fine red surtout, em- 
 broidered with silver, and all his trappings and those 
 of his horse were magnificent ; he acquitted himself 
 with distinction. 
 
 Our cavalry stood so well against the fire from the 
 enemy's guns, that the Prince of Orange lost all 
 patience, and turning away, exclaimed " Oh, the 
 insolent nation ! " He fought until the last, and 
 retired with the Elector of Hanover only when he 
 saw there was no longer any hope. After the battle 
 my people brought us a leg of mutton and a bottle of 
 wine, which they had wisely saved from the previous 
 evening, and we attacked them in good earnest, as may 
 be believed. The enemy lost about twenty thousand 
 men, including a large number of officers; our loss was 
 not more than half that number. We took all their 
 cannon, eight mortars, many artillery waggons, a 
 quantity of standards, and some pairs of kettle-drums. 
 The victory was complete. 
 
 Meanwhile, the army which had been sent to 
 Germany under the command of Monseigneur and of 
 the Marechal de Lorges, did little or nothing. The 
 Mareehal wished to attack Heilbronn, but Monseigneur 
 was opposed to it; and, to the great regret of the 
 principal generals and of the troops, the attack was 
 not made. Monseigneur returned early to Versailles.
 
 46 MY RETURN TO PARIS. 
 
 At sea we were more active. The rich merchant 
 fleet of Smyrna was attacked by Tourville ; fifty vessels 
 were b'urnt or sunk, and twenty-seven taken, all richly 
 freighted. This campaign cost the English and Dutch 
 dear. It is believed their loss was more than thirty 
 millions of ecus. 
 
 The season finished with the taking of Charleroy. 
 On the 16th of September the Marechal de Villeroj-, 
 supported by M. de Luxembourg, laid siege to it, and 
 on the 1 1th of October, after a good defence, the place 
 capitulated. Our loss was very slight. Charleroy 
 taken, our troops went into winter- quarters, and I 
 returned to Court, like the rest. The roads and the 
 posting service were in great disorder. Amongst 
 other adventures I met with, I was driven by a deaf 
 and dumb postilion, who stuck me fast in the mud 
 when near Quesnoj r . At Pont Sainte-Maxence all the 
 horses were retained by M. de Luxembourg. Fearing 
 I might be left behind, I told the postmaster that I 
 was a governor (which was true), and that I would put 
 him in jail if he did not give me horses. I should 
 have been sadly puzzled how to do it ; but he was 
 simple enough to believe me, and gave the horses. I 
 arrived, however, at last at Paris, and found a change 
 at the Court, which surprised me. 
 
 Daquin first doctor of the King and creature of 
 Madame de Montespan had lost nothing of his credit 
 by her removal, but had never been able to get on 
 well with Madame de Maintenon, who looked coldly 
 upon all the friends of her predecessor. Daquin had 
 a son, an abbe, and wearied the King with solicitations
 
 DEATH OF LA VAUGUYON. 47 
 
 on his behalf. Madame <le Maintenon seized the 
 opportunity, when the King was more than usually 
 angry with Daquin, to obtain his dismissal : it came 
 upon him like a thunderbolt. On the previous evening 
 the King had spoken to him for a long time as usual, 
 and had never treated him better. All the Court was 
 astonished also. Fagon, a very skilful and learned 
 man, was appointed in his place at the instance of 
 Madame de Maintenon. 
 
 Another event excited less surprise than interest. 
 On Sunday, the 29th of November, the King learned 
 that La Vauguyon had killed himself in his bed, that 
 morning, by firing twice into his throat. I must say a 
 few words about this Vauguyon. He was one of the 
 pettiest and poorest gentlemen of France : he was 
 well-made, but very swarthy, with Spanish features, 
 had a charming voice, played the guitar and lute very 
 well, and was skilled in the arts of gallantry. By 
 these talents he had succeeded in finding favour with 
 Madame de Beauvais, much regarded at the Court as 
 having been the King's first mistress. I have seen 
 her, old, blear-eyed, and half-blind, at the toilette of 
 the Dauphiness of Bavaria, where everybody courted 
 her, because she was still much considered by the 
 King. Under this protection La Vauguyon succeeded 
 well ; was several times sent as ambassador to foreign 
 countries ; was made councillor of state, and, to the 
 scandal of everybody, was raised to the Order in 1C88. 
 Of late years, having no appointments, he had scarcely 
 the means of living, and endeavoured, but without 
 success, to improve his condition.
 
 48 .SYMPTOMS OF MADNESS. 
 
 Poverty by degrees turned his brain ; but a long 
 time passed before it was perceived. The first proof 
 that he gave of it was at the house of Madame Pelot, 
 widow of the Chief President of the Rouen parliament. 
 Playing at brelan one evening, she offered him a stake, 
 and because he would not accept it, bantered him, and 
 playfully called him a poltroon. He said nothing, but 
 waited until all the rest of the company had left the 
 room ; and when he found himself alone with Madame 
 Pelot, he bolted the door, clapped his hat on his head, 
 drove her up against the chimney, and holding her 
 head between his two fists, said he knew no reason 
 why he should not pound it into jelly, in order to 
 teach her to call him poltroon again. The poor 
 woman was horribly frightened, and made perpendi- 
 cular curtseys between his two fists, and all sorts of 
 excuses. At last he let her go, more dead than alive. 
 She had the generosity to say no syllable of this 
 occurrence until after his death ; she even allowed him 
 to come to the house as usual, but took care never to 
 be alone with him. 
 
 One day, a long time after this, meeting, in a gallery 
 at Fontainebleau, M. de Courtenay, La Vauguyon drew 
 his sword, and compelled the other to draw also, 
 although there had never been the slightest quarrel 
 between them. They were soon separated, and La 
 Vauguyon immediately fled to the King, who was just 
 then in his private closet, where nobody ever entered 
 unless expressly summoned. But La Vauguyon 
 turned the key, and, in spite of the usher on guard, 
 forced his way in. The King in great emotion asked
 
 VAUGUYON AT THE BASTILLE. 49 
 
 him what was the matter. La Vauguyon on his 
 knees said he had been insulted by M. de Courtenaj', 
 and demanded pardon for having drawn his sword in 
 the palace. His Majesty, promising to examine the 
 matter, with great trouble got rid of La Vauguyon. 
 As nothing could be made of it, M. de Courtenay 
 declaring he had been insulted by La Vauguyon and 
 forced to draw his sword, and the other telling the 
 same tale, both were sent to the Bastille. After a 
 short imprisonment they were released, and appeared 
 at the Court as usual. 
 
 Another adventure, which succeeded this, threw 
 some light upon the state of affairs. Going to Ver- 
 sailles, one day, La Vauguyon met a groom of the 
 Prince de Conde leading a saddled horse : he 
 stopped the man, descended from his coach, asked 
 whom the horse belonged to, said that the Prince 
 would not object to his riding it, and leaping upon the 
 animal's back, galloped off. The groom, all amazed, 
 followed him. La Vauguyon rode on until he reached 
 the Bastille, descended there, gave a gratuity to the 
 man, and dismissed him : he then went straight to 
 the governor of the prison, said he had had the 
 misfortune to displease the King, and begged to be 
 confined there. The governor, having no orders to do 
 so, refused, and sent off an express for instructions 
 how to act. In reply he was told not to receive La 
 Vauguyon, whom at last, after great difficulty, he 
 prevailed upon to go away. This occurrence made 
 great noise. Yet even afterwards the King continued 
 to receive La Vauguyon at the Court, and to affect to 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 50 PROJECTS OF MARRIAGE. 
 
 treat him well, although everybody else avoided him 
 and was afraid of Mm. His poor wife hecame so 
 affected by these public derangements, that she re- 
 tired from Paris, and shortly afterwards died. This 
 completed her husband's madness ; he survived her 
 only a month, dying by his own hand, as I have 
 mentioned. During the last two years of his life he 
 carried pistols in his caniage, and frequently pointed 
 them at his coachman and postillion. It is certain 
 that without the assistance of M. de Beauvais he 
 would often have been brought to the last extremities. 
 Beauvais frequently spoke of him to the King ; and it 
 is inconceivable that having raised this man to such 
 a point, and having always shown him particular 
 kindness, His Majesty should perseveringly have left 
 him to die of hunger and become mad from misery. '* 
 
 The year finished without any remarkable occur- 
 rence. 
 
 My mother, who had been much disquieted for me 
 during the campaign, desired strongly that I should 
 not make another without being married. Although 
 very young, I had no repugnance to marry, but wished 
 to do so according to my own inclinations. With a 
 large establishment I felt very lonely in a country 
 where credit and consideration do more than all the 
 rest. Without uncle, aunt, cousins-german, or near 
 relatives, I found myself, I say, extremely solitary. 
 
 Among my best friends, as he had been the friend 
 of my father, was the Due de Beauvilliers. He had 
 always shown me much affection, and I felt a great 
 desire to unite myself to his family. My mother
 
 M. DE BEAUVILLIERS. 51 
 
 approved of my inclination, and gave me an exact 
 account of my estates and possessions. I carried it to 
 Versailles, and sought a private interview with M. de 
 Beauvilliers. At eight o'clock the same evening he 
 received me alone in the cabinet of Madame de 
 Beauvilliers. After making my compliments to him, 
 I told him my wish, showed him the state of my 
 affairs, and said that all I demanded of him was one 
 of his daughters in marriage, and that whatever con- 
 tract he thought fit to draw up would be signed by 
 my mother and myself without examination. 
 
 The Due, who had fixed his eyes upon me all this 
 time, replied like a man penetrated with gratitude by 
 the offer I had made. He said, that of his eight 
 daughters the eldest was between fourteen and fifteen 
 Jjrears old ; the second much deformed, and in no way 
 marriageable ; the third between twelve and thirteen 
 years of age, and the rest were children : the eldest 
 wished to enter a convent, and had shown herself firm 
 upon that point. He seemed inclined to make a 
 difficulty of his want of fortune ; but, reminding him 
 of the proposition I had made, I said that it was not 
 for fortune I had come to him, not even for his 
 daughter, whom I had never seen; that it was he 
 and Madame de Beauvilliers who had charmed me, 
 and whom I wished to marry ! 
 
 " But," said he, " if my eldest daughter wishes 
 absolutely to enter a convent ? " 
 
 " Then," replied I, " I ask the third of you." To 
 this he objected, on the ground that if he gave the 
 dowry of the first to the third daughter, and the first 
 
 s 2
 
 52 A XEGOCIATION FOR A WIFE. 
 
 afterwards changed her inind and wished to many, he 
 should be thrown into an embarrassment. I replied 
 that I would take the third as though the first were to 
 be married, and that if she were not, the difference 
 between what he destined for her and what he destined 
 for the third, should be given to me. The Due, 
 raising his eyes to heaven, protested that he had 
 never been combated in this manner, and that he was 
 obliged to gather up all his forces in order to prevent 
 himself yielding to me that very instant. 
 
 On the next day, at half-past three, I had another 
 interview with M. de Beauvilliers. "With much ten- 
 derness he declined my proposal, resting his refusal 
 upon the inclination his daughter had displayed for 
 the convent, upon his little wealth, if, the marriage of 
 the third being made, she should change her mind, and 
 upon other reasons. He spoke to me with much regret 
 and friendship, and I to him in the same manner ; and 
 we separated, unable any longer to speak to each other. 
 Two days after, however, I had another interview with 
 him by his appointment. I endeavoured to overcome 
 the objections that he made, but all in vain. He 
 could not give me his third daughter with the first 
 unmarried, and he would not force her, he said, to 
 change her wish of retiring from the world. His 
 words, pious and elevated, augmented my respect for 
 him, and my desire for the marriage. In the evening, 
 at the breaking up of the appointment, I could not 
 prevent myself whispering in his ear that I should 
 never live happy with anybody but his daughter, and 
 without waiting for a reply hastened away. I had the
 
 MY FAILURE. 53 
 
 next evening, at eight o'clock, an interview with 
 Madame de Beauvilliers. I argued with her with such 
 prodigious ardour that she was surprised, and, although 
 she did not give way, she said she should be incon- 
 solable for the loss of me, repeating the same tender 
 and flattering things her husband had said before, and 
 with the same effusion of feeling. 
 
 I had yet another interview with M. de "Beauvilliers. 
 He showed even more affection for me than before, but 
 I could not succeed in putting aside his scruples. He 
 unbosomed himself afterwards to one of our friends, 
 and in his bitterness said he could only console himself 
 by hoping that his children and mine might some day 
 intermarry, and he prayed me to go and pass some days 
 at Paris, in order to allow him to seek a truce to his 
 grief in my absence. We both were in want of it. I 
 have judged it fitting to give these details, for they 
 afford a key to my exceeding intimacy with M. de 
 Beauvilliers, which otherwise, considering the difference 
 in our ages, might appear incomprehensible. 
 
 There was nothing left for me but to look out for 
 another marriage. One soon presented itself, but as 
 soon fell to the ground ; and I went to La Trappe to 
 console myself for the impossibility of making an 
 alliance with the Due de Beauvilliers. 
 
 La Trappe is a place so celebrated and so well 
 known, and its reformer so famous, that I shall say but 
 little about it. I will, however, mention that this abbey 
 is five leagues from La Ferte-au-Vidame, or Arnault, 
 which is the real distinctive name of this Ferte among 
 so many other Fertes in France, which have preserved
 
 54 VISIT TO LA TRAPPE. 
 
 the generic name of what they have been, that is to say, 
 forts or fortresses (firmitas). My father had been very 
 intimate with M. de la Trappe, and had taken me to 
 him. 
 
 Although I was very young then, fyl. de la Trappe 
 charmed me, and the sanctity of the place enchanted 
 me. Every year I stayed some days there, sometimes 
 a week at a time, and was never tired of admiring this 
 great and distinguished man. He loved me as a son, 
 and I respected him as though he were my father. 
 This intimacy, singular at my age, I kept secret 
 from everybody, and only went to the convent 
 clandestinely.
 
 A CLAIM OF PRECEDENCE. 55 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 M. <le Luxembourg's Claim of Precedence Origin of the Claim Due de 
 Piney Character of Harlay Progress of the Trial Luxembourg and 
 Richelieu Double-dealing of Harlay The Due de Gesvres Return 
 to the Seat of War Divers Operations Origin of these Memoirs. 
 
 ON my return from La Trappe, I became engaged 
 in an affair which made a great noise, and which had 
 many results for me. 
 
 M. de Luxembourg, proud of his successes, and of 
 the applause of the world at his victories, believed 
 himself sufficiently strong to claim precedence over 
 seventeen dukes, myself among the number ; to step, 
 in fact, from the eighteenth rank, that he held amongst 
 the peers, to the second. The following are the 
 names and the order in precedence of the dukes he 
 wished to supersede : 
 
 The Due d'Elbceuf ; the Due de Montbazon ; the 
 Due de Ventadour ; the Due de Vendome ; the Due 
 de la Tremoille ; the Due de Sully ; the Due de 
 Chevreuse, the son (minor) of the Duchesse de Les- 
 diguieres-Gondi ; the Due de Brissac ; Charles d' Albert, 
 called d'Ailly ; the Due de Richelieu ; the Due de 
 Saint- Simon; the Due de la Rochefoucauld ; the Due 
 de la Force ; the Due de Valentinois ; the Due de 
 Rohan ; the Due de Bouillon.
 
 56 ORIGIN OF THE CLAIM. 
 
 To explain this pretension of M. de Luxembourg, 
 I must give some details respecting him and the family 
 whose name he bore. He was the only son of M. de 
 Bouteville, and had married a descendant of Francois 
 de Luxembourg, Duke of Piney, created Peer of France 
 in 1581. It was a peerage which, in default of male 
 successors, went to the female, but this descendant 
 was not heir to it. She was the child of a second 
 marriage, and by a first marriage her mother had given 
 birth to a son and a daughter, who were the inheritors 
 of the peerage, both of whom were still living. The 
 son was, however, an idiot, had been declared incapable 
 of attending to his affairs, and was shut up in Saint 
 Lazare, at Paris. The daughter had taken the veil, 
 and was mistress of the novices at the Abbaye-aux- 
 Bois. The peerage had thus, it might almost be said, 
 become extinct, for it was vested in an idiot, who could 
 .not marry (to prevent him doing so, he had been made 
 a Deacon, and he was bound in consequence to remain 
 single), and in a nun, who Avas equally bound by her 
 vows to the same state of celibacy. 
 
 When M. de Bouteville, for that was his only title 
 then, married, he took the arms and the name of 
 Luxembourg. He did more. By powerful influence 
 notably that of his patron the Prince de Conde he 
 released the idiot deacon from his asylum, and the 
 nun from her convent, and induced them both to 
 surrender to him their possessions and their titles. 
 This done, he commenced proceedings at once in order 
 to obtain legal recognition of his right to the dignities 
 he had thus got possession of. He claimed to be
 
 DUG DE PINEY. 57 
 
 acknowledged Due de Piney, with all the privileges 
 attached to that title as a creation of 1581. Foremost 
 among these privileges was that of taking precedence 
 of all dukes whose title did not go back so far as that 
 year. Before any decision was given either for or 
 against this claim, he was made Due de Piney by 
 new letters patent, dating from 1662, with a clause 
 which left his pretensions to the title of 1581 by no 
 means affected by this new creation. M. de Luxem- 
 bourg, however, seemed satisfied with what he had 
 obtained, and was apparently disposed to pursue his 
 claim no further. He was received as due and peer 
 in the parliament, took his seat in the last rank after 
 all the other peers, and allowed his suit to drop. Since 
 then he had tried unsuccessfully to gain it by stealth, 
 but for several years nothing more had been heard of it. 
 Now, however, he recommenced it, and with every 
 intention, as we soon found, to stop at no intrigue or 
 baseness in order to carry his point. 
 
 Nearly everybody was in his favour. The Court, 
 though not the King, was almost entirely for him ; and 
 the town, dazzled by the splendour of his exploits, was 
 devoted to him. The young men regarded him as the 
 protector of their debauches ; for, notwithstanding his 
 age, his conduct was as free as theirs. He had cap- 
 tivated the troops and the general officers. 
 
 In the parliament he had a staunch supporter in 
 Harlay, the Chief President, who led that great body 
 at his will, and whose devotion he had acquired to 
 such a degree, that he believed that to undertake and 
 succeed were only the same things, and that this
 
 58 CHARACTER OF HARLAY. 
 
 grand affair would scarcely cost him a winter to 
 carry. 
 
 Let me say something more of this Harla} r . 
 
 Descended from two celebrated magistrates, Achille 
 d'Harlay and Christopher De Thou, Harlay imitated 
 their gravity, but carried it to a cynical extent, affected 
 their disinterestedness and modesty, but dishonoured 
 the first by his conduct, and the second by a refined 
 pride which he endeavoured without success to conceal. 
 He 'piqued himself, above all things, upon his probity 
 and justice, but the mask soon fell. Between Peter 
 and Paul he maintained the strictest fairness, but as 
 soon as he perceived interest or favour to be acquired, 
 he sold himself. This trial will show him stripped of 
 -all disguise. He was learned in the law ; in letters he 
 was second to no one ; he was well acquainted with 
 history, and knew how, above all, to govern his com- 
 pany with an authority which suffered no reply, and 
 which no other chief president had ever attained. 
 A pharisaical austerity rendered him redoubtable by 
 the license he assumed in his public reprimands, 
 whether to plaintiffs or defendants, advocates or 
 magistrates; so that there was not a single person 
 who did not tremble to have to do with him. Besides 
 this, sustained in all by the Court (of which he was 
 ihe slave, and the very humble servant of those who 
 were really in favour), a subtle courtier, a singularly 
 crafty politician, he used all those talents solely to 
 further his ambition, his desire of domination, and his 
 thirst of the reputation of a great man. He was 
 without real honour, secretly of corrupt manners, with
 
 CHARACTER OF HARLAY. 59 
 
 only outside probity, without humanity even ; in one 
 word, a perfect hypocrite ; without faith, without law, 
 without a God, and without a soul; a cruel husband, 
 a barbarous father, a tyrannical brother, a friend of 
 himself alone, wicked by nature, taking pleasure in 
 insulting, outraging, and overwhelming others, and 
 never in his life having lost an occasion to do so. 
 His wit was great, but was always subservient to his 
 wickedness. He was small, vigorous, and thin, with a 
 lozenge-shaped face, a long aquiline nose, fine, speak- 
 ing, keen eyes, that usually looked furtively at you, 
 but which, if fixed on a client or a magistrate, were fit 
 to make him sink into the earth. He wore narrow 
 robes, an almost ecclesiastical collar and wristband to 
 match, a brown wig mixed with white, thickly fur- 
 nished but short, and with a great cap over it. He 
 affected a bending attitude, and walked so, with a false 
 air, more humble than modest, and always shaved 
 along the walls to make people make way for him with 
 greater noise ; and at Versailles worked his way on by 
 a series of respectful and, as it were, shame-faced 
 bows to the right and left. He held to the King and 
 to Madame de Maintenon by knowing their weak side ; 
 and it was he who, being consulted upon the unheard- 
 of legitimation of children without naming the mother, 
 had sanctioned that illegality in favour of the King. 
 
 Snch was the man whose influence was given entirely 
 to our opponent. 
 
 To assist M. de Luxembourg's case as much as 
 possible, the celebrated Racine, so known by his plays, 
 and by the order he had received at that time to write
 
 60 PROGRESS OF THE TRIAL. 
 
 the history of the King, was employed to polish and 
 ornament his pleas. Nothing was left undone by 
 M. de Luxembourg in order to gain this cause. 
 
 I cannot give all the details of the case, the state- 
 ments made on both sides, and the defences ; they 
 would occupy entire volumes. We maintained that 
 M. de Luxembourg was in no way entitled to the 
 precedence he claimed, and we had both law and 
 justice on our side. To give instructions to our 
 counsel, and to follow the progress of the case, we 
 met once a week, seven or eight of us at least, those 
 best disposed to give our time to the matter. Among the 
 most punctual was M. de la Rochefoucauld. I had been 
 solicited from the commencement to take, part in the 
 proceedings, and I complied most willingly, apologising 
 for so doing to M. de Luxembourg, who replied with 
 all the politeness and gallantry possible, that I could 
 not do less than follow an example my father had 
 set me. 
 
 The trial having commenced, we soon saw how badly 
 disposed the chief president was towards us. He 
 obstructed us in every way, and acted against all rules. 
 There seemed no means of defeating his evident inten- 
 tion of judging against us than by gaining time, first of 
 all; and to do this we determined to get the case 
 adjourned. There were, however, only two days at 
 our disposal, and that was not enough in order to 
 comply with the forms required for such a step. We 
 were all in the greatest embarrassment, when it for- 
 tunately came into the head of one of our lawyers to 
 remind us of a privilege we possessed, by which, with-
 
 LUXEMBOURG AND RICHELIEU. 61 
 
 out much difficulty, we could obtain what we required. 
 I was the only one who could, at that moment, make 
 use of this privilege. I hastened home, at once, to 
 obtain the necessary papers, deposited them with the 
 procure ur of M. de Luxembourg, and the adjournment 
 was obtained. The rage of M. de Luxembourg was 
 without bounds. When we met he would not salute 
 me, and in consequence I discontinued to salute him ; 
 by which he lost more than I, in his position and at 
 his age, and furnished in the rooms and the galleries 
 of Versailles a sufficiently ridiculous spectacle. In 
 addition to this he quarrelled openly with M. de 
 Richelieu, arid made a bitter attack upon him in one 
 of his pleas. But M. de Richelieu, meeting him soon 
 after in the Salle des Gardes at Versailles, told him to 
 his face, that he should soon have a reply ; and said, 
 that he feared him neither on horseback nor on foot, 
 neither him nor his crew neither in town nor at the 
 Court, nor even in the army, nor in any place in the 
 world ; and without allowing time for a reply he 
 turned on his heel. In the end, M. de Luxembourg 
 found himself so closely pressed that he was glad to 
 apologise to M. de Richelieu. 
 
 After a time our cause, sent back again to the par- 
 liament, was argued there with the same vigour, the 
 same partiality, and the same injustice as before : 
 seeing this, we felt that the only course left open to 
 us was to get the case sent before the Assembly of all 
 the Chambers, where the Judges, from their number, 
 could not be corrupted by M. de Luxembourg, and 
 where the authority of Harlay was feeble, while over
 
 62 DOUBLE -DEALING OF HARLAY. 
 
 the Grand Chambre, in which the case was at present, 
 it was absolute. The difficulty was to obtain an 
 assembly of all the Chambers, for the power of sum- 
 moning them was vested solely in Harlay. However, 
 we determined to try and gain his consent. M. de 
 Chaulnes undertook to go upon this delicate errand, 
 and acquitted himself well of his mission. He pointed 
 out to Harlay that everybody was convinced of his 
 leaning towards M. de Luxembourg, and that the only 
 way to efface the conviction that had gone abroad was 
 to comply with our request ; in fine, he used so many 
 arguments, and with such address, that Harlay con- 
 fused and thrown off his guard, and repenting of the 
 manner in which he had acted towards us as being 
 likely to injure his interests, gave a positive assurance 
 to M. de Chaulnes that what we asked should be granted. 
 
 We had scarcely finished congratulating ourselves 
 upon this unhoped-for success, when we found that 
 we had to do with a man whose word was a very sorry 
 support to rest upon. M. de Luxembourg, affrighted 
 at the promise Harlay had given, made him resolve 
 to break it. Suspecting this, M. de Chaulnes paid 
 another visit to the chief president, who admitted, with 
 much confusion, that he had changed his views, and that 
 it was impossible to carry out what he had agreed to. 
 After this we felt that to treat any longer with a man 
 so perfidious would be time lost, and we determined 
 therefore to put it out of his power to judge the case 
 at all. 
 
 According to the received maxim whoever is at law 
 with the son cannot be judged by the father. Harlay
 
 THE DUC DE GESVRES. 6& 
 
 had a son who was advocate -general. We resolved 
 that one among us should bring an action against him. 
 
 After trying in vain to induce the Due de Rohan, 
 who was the only one of our number who could readily 
 have done it, to commence a suit against Harlay's son,, 
 we began to despair of arriving at our aim. Fortu- 
 nately for us, the vexation of Harlay became so great 
 at this time, in consequence of the disdain with which 
 we treated him and which we openly published, that 
 he extricated us himself from our difficulty. We had 
 only to supplicate the Due de Gesvres in the cause,, 
 (lie said to some of our people,) and we should obtain 
 what we wanted ; for the Due de Gesvres was his 
 relative. We took him at his word. The Due de 
 Gesvres received in two days a summons on our part. 
 Harlay, annoyed with himself for the advice he had 
 given, repented of it : but it was too late ; he was 
 declared unable to judge the cause, and the case itself 
 was postponed until the next year. 
 
 Meanwhile let me mention a circumstance which 
 should have found a place before, and then state what 
 occurred in the interval which followed until the trial 
 recommenced. 
 
 It was while our proceedings were making some 
 little stir that fresh favours were heaped upon the 
 King's illegitimate .sons, at the instance of the King 
 himself and with the connivance of Harlay, who 
 for the part he took in the affair was promised the 
 chancellorship when it should become vacant. The 
 rank of these illegitimate sons was placed just below 
 that of the princes of the blood and just above that
 
 64 RETURN TO THE SEAT OF WAR. 
 
 of the peers even of the oldest creation. This gave 
 us all exceeding annoyance : it was the greatest injury 
 the peerage could have received, and became its 
 leprosy and sore. All the peers who could, kept 
 themselves aloof from the parliament, when M. du 
 Maine, M. de Vendorne, and the Comte de Toulouse, 
 for whom this arrangement was specially made, were 
 received there. 
 
 There were several marriages at the Court this 
 winter and many very fine halls, at which latter I 
 danced. By the spring, preparations were ready for 
 fresh campaigns. My regiment (I had bought one at the 
 close of the last season) was ordered to join the army of 
 M. de Luxembourg ; but, as I had no desire to be under 
 him, I wrote to the King, begging to be exchanged. 
 In a short time, to the great vexation, as I know, of M. 
 de Luxembourg, my request was granted. The Cheva- 
 lier de Sully went to Flanders in my place, and I to 
 Germany in his. I went first to Soissons to see my 
 regiment, and in consequence of the recommendation 
 of the King was more severe with it than I should 
 otherwise have been. I set out afterwards for Stras- 
 bourg, where I was surprised with the magnificence 
 of the town, and with the number, beauty, and gran- 
 deur of its fortifications. As from my youth I knew 
 and spoke German perfectly, I sought out one of my 
 early German acquaintances, who gave me much 
 pleasure. I stopped six days at Strasbourg, and then 
 went by the Rhine to Philipsburg. On the next 
 day after arriving there, I joined the cavalry, which 
 was encamped at Obersheim.
 
 ORIGIN OF THESE MEMOIRS. 65 
 
 After several movement's in which we passed and re- 
 passed the Rhine but which led to no effective result, 
 we encamped for forty days at Gaw-Boecklheim, one of 
 the best and most beautiful positions in the world, and 
 where we had charming weather, although a little dis- 
 posed to cold. It was in the leisure of that long camp 
 that I commenced these memoirs, incited by the 
 pleasure I took in reading those of Marshal Bassom- 
 pierre, which invited me thus to write Avhat I should 
 see in my own time. 
 
 During this season M. de Noailles took Palamos, 
 Girone, and the fortress of Castel-Follit in Catalonia. 
 This last was taken by the daring of a soldier, who led 
 on a small number of his comrades, and carried the 
 place by assault. Nothing was done in Italy ; and in 
 Flanders M. de Luxembourg came to no engagement 
 with the Prince of Orange.
 
 66 QUARRELS OF THE PRINCESSES. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Quarrels of the Princesses Mademoiselle Choin A Disgraceful Affair 
 M. de Noyon Comic Scene at the Academic Anger and Forgiveness 
 of M. de Noyon M. de Noailles in Disgrace How he gets into 
 Favour again M. de Vendome in Command Character of M. de 
 Luxembourg The Trial for Precedence again An Insolent Lawyer 
 Extraordinary Decree. 
 
 AFTER our long rest at the camp of Gaw-Boecklheim 
 we again put ourselves in movement, but without doing 
 much against the enemy, and on the 16th of October 
 I received permission to return to Paris. Upon my 
 arrival there I learnt that many things had occurred 
 since I left. During that time some adventures had 
 happened to the Princesses, as the three illegitimate 
 daughters of the King were called for distinction 
 sake. Monsieur wished that the Duchesse de Chartres 
 should always call the others " sister," but that the 
 others should never address her except as " Madame." 
 The Princesse de Conti submitted to this; but the 
 other (Madame la Duchesse, being the produce of the 
 same love) set herself to call the Duchesse de Chartres 
 " mignonne." But nothing was less mignonne than her 
 face and her figure ; and Monsieur, feeling the ridicule, 
 complained to the King. The King prohibited very 
 severely this familiarity. 
 
 While at Trianon these Princesses took it into their 
 heads to walk out at night and divert themselves with
 
 MADEMOISELLE CHOIN. 67 
 
 crackers. Either from malice or imprudence they let 
 off some one night under the windows of Monsieur, 
 rousing him thereby out of his sleep. He was so 
 displeased, that he complained to the King, who made 
 him many excuses (scolding the Princesses), but had 
 great trouble to appease him. His anger lasted a long 
 time, and the Duchesse de Chartres felt it. I do not 
 know if the other two were very sorry. Madame la 
 Duchesse was accused of writing some songs upon the 
 Duchesse de Chartres. 
 
 The Princesse de Conti had another adventure, 
 Avhich made considerable noise, and which had great 
 results. She had taken into her favour Clermont, 
 ensign of the gensdarmes and of the Guard. He had 
 pretended to be enamoured of her, and had not been 
 repelled, for she soon became in love with him. 
 Clermont had attached himself to the service of M. de 
 Luxembourg, and was the merest creature in his hands. 
 At the instigation of M. de Luxembourg, he turned 
 .away his regards from the Princesse de Conti, and 
 fixed them upon one of her maids of honour Made- 
 moiselle Choin, a great, ugly, brown, thick-set girl, upon 
 whom Monseigneur had lately bestowed his affection. 
 Monseigneur made no secret of this, nor did she. 
 Such being the case, it occurred to M. de Luxembourg 
 (who knew he was no favourite with the King, and who 
 built all his hopes of the future upon Monseigneur) 
 that Clermont, by marrying La Choin, might thus 
 secure the favour of Monseigneur, whose entire con- 
 fidence she possessed. Clermont was easily persuaded 
 that this would be for him a royal road to fortune, and
 
 68 A DISGRACEFUL AFFAIR. 
 
 he accordingly entered willingly into the scheme, 
 which had just begun to move, when the campaign 
 commenced, and everybody went away to join the 
 armies. 
 
 The King, who partly saw this intrigue, soon made 
 himself entirely master of it, by intercepting the letters 
 which passed between the various parties. He read 
 there the project of Clerrnont and La Choin to marry, 
 and thus govern Monseigneur ; he saw how M. de 
 Luxembourg was the soul of this scheme, and the 
 marvels to himself he expected from it. The letters 
 Clermont had received from the Princesse de Conti he 
 now sent to Mademoiselle la Choin, and always spoke 
 to her of Monseigneur as their " fat friend." With 
 this correspondence in his hands, the King one day 
 sent for the Princesse de Conti, said in a severe tone 
 that he knew of her weakness for Clermont ; and, to 
 prove to her how badly she had placed her affection, 
 showed her her own letters to Clermont, and letters in 
 which he had spoken most contemptuously of her to 
 La Choin. Then, as a cruel punishment, he made her 
 read aloud to him the whole of those letters. At this 
 she almost died, and threw herself, bathed in tears, at 
 the feet of the King, scarcely able to articulate. Then 
 came sobs, entreaty, despair, and rage, and cries for 
 justice and revenge. This was soon obtained. Made- 
 moiselle la Choin was driven away the next day ; and 
 M. de Luxembourg had orders to strip Clermont of his 
 office, and send him to the most distant part of the 
 kingdom. The terror of M. de Luxembourg and the 
 Prince de Conti at this discovery may be imagined.
 
 M. DE NO YON. 69 
 
 Songs increased the notoriety of this strange adventure 
 between the Princess and her confidant. 
 
 M. de Noyon had furnished on my return another 
 subject for the song -writers, and felt it the more 
 sensibly because everybody was diverted at his expense. 
 M. de Noyon was extremely vain, and afforded thereby 
 much amusement to the King. A chair was vacant at 
 the Academic Francaise. The King wished it to be 
 given to M. de Noyon, and expressed himself to that 
 effect to Dangeau, who was a member. As may be 
 believed, the prelate was elected without difficulty. 
 His Majesty testified to the Prince de Conde, and to 
 the most distinguished persons of the Court, that he 
 should be glad to see them at the reception. Thus 
 M. de Noyon was the first member of the Academic 
 chosen by the King, and the first at whose reception 
 he had taken the trouble to invite his courtiers to 
 attend. 
 
 The Abbe de Caumartin was at that time Director 
 of the Academic. He knew the vanity of M. de Noyon, 
 and determined to divert the public at his expense. 
 He had many friends in power, and judged that his 
 pleasantry would be overlooked, and even approved. 
 He composed, therefore, a confused and bombastic 
 discourse in the style of M. de Noyon, full of pompous 
 phrases, turning the prelate into ridicule, while they 
 seemed to praise him. After finishing this work, he 
 was afraid lest it should be thought out of all measure, 
 and, to reassure himself, carried it to M. de Noyon 
 himself, as a scholar might to his master, in order to 
 see whether it fully met with his approval. M. de
 
 70 COMIC SCENE AT THE ACADEMIE. 
 
 Noyon, so far from suspecting anything, was charmed 
 by the discourse, and simply made a few corrections in 
 the style. The Abbe de Caumartin rejoiced at the, 
 success of the snare he had laid, and felt quite bold 
 enough to deliver his harangue. 
 
 The day came. The Academic was crowded. The 
 King and the Court were there, all expecting to be 
 diverted. M. de Noyon, saluting everybody with a 
 satisfaction he did not dissimulate, made his speech 
 with his usual confidence, and in his usual style. The 
 Abbe replied with a modest air, and with a gravity and 
 slowness that gave great effect to his ridiculous dis- 
 course. The surprise and pleasure w r ere general, and 
 each person strove to intoxicate M. de Noyon more 
 and more, making him believe that the speech of the 
 Abbe was relished solely because it had so worthily 
 praised him. The prelate w r as delighted with the 
 Abbe and the public, and conceived not the slightest 
 mistrust. 
 
 The noise which this occurrence made may be 
 imagined, and the praises M. de Noyon gave himself 
 in relating everywhere what he had said, and what had 
 been replied to him. M. de Paris, at whose house he 
 went, thus triumphing, did not like him, and endea- 
 voured to open his eyes to the humiliation he had 
 received. For some time M. de Noyon would not be 
 convinced of the truth ; it was not until he had con- 
 sulted with Pere la Chaise that he believed it. The 
 excess of rage and vexation succeeded then to the 
 excess of rapture he had felt. In this state he 
 returned to his house, and went the next day to Ver-
 
 ANGER AND FORGIVENESS OF M. DE NOYON. 71 
 
 sallies. There he made the most bitter complaints to 
 the King, of the Abbe de Caumartin, by whose means 
 he had become the sport and laughing-stock of all the 
 world. 
 
 The King, who had learned what had passed, was 
 himself displeased. He ordered Pontchartrain (who 
 was related to Caumartin) to rebuke the Abbe, and to 
 send him a lettre de cachet, in order that he might go 
 and ripen his brain in his Abbey of Busay, in Brittany, 
 and better learn there how to speak and write. Pont- 
 chartrain executed the first part of his commission, but 
 not the second. He pointed out to the King that the 
 speech of the Abbe de Caumartin had been revised and 
 corrected by M. de Noyon, and that, therefore, this 
 latter had only himself to blame in the matter. He 
 declared, too, that the Abbe was very sorry for what 
 he had done, and was most willing to beg pardon of 
 M. de Noyon. The lettre de cachet thus fell to the 
 ground, but not the anger of the prelate. He was so 
 outraged that he would not see the Abbe, retired 
 into his diocese to hide his shame, and remained there 
 a long time. 
 
 Upon his return to Paris, however, being taken ill, 
 before consenting to receive the sacraments, he sent 
 for the Abbe, embraced him, pardoned him, and 
 gave him a diamond ring, that he drew from his 
 finger, and that he begged him to keep in memory of 
 him. Nay more, when he was cured, he used all his 
 influence to reinstate the Abbe in the esteem of the 
 King. But the King could never forgive what had 
 taken place, and M. de Noyon, by this grand action,
 
 72 M. DE NOAILLES IN DISGEACE. 
 
 gained only the favour of God and the honour of the 
 world. 
 
 I must finish the account of the war of this year 
 with a strange incident. M. de Noailles, who had 
 been so successful in Catalonia, was on very bad terms 
 with Barbezieux, secretary of state for the war depart- 
 ment. Both were in good favour with the King, both 
 high in power, both spoiled. The successes in Cata- 
 lonia had annoyed Barbezieux. They smoothed the 
 way for the siege of Barcelona, and that place once 
 taken, the very heart of Spain would have been 
 exposed, and M. de Noailles would have gained fresh 
 honours and glory. M. de Noailles felt this so com- 
 pletely that he had pressed upon the King the siege of 
 Barcelona ; and when the fitting time came for under- 
 taking it, sent a messenger to him with full informa- 
 tion of the forces and supplies he required. Fearing 
 that if he wrote out this information it might fall into 
 the hands of Barbezieux, and never reach the King, 
 he simply gave his messenger instructions by word of 
 mouth, and charged him to deliver them so. But the 
 very means he had taken to ensure success brought about 
 failure. Barbezieux, informed by his spies of the 
 departure of the messenger, waylaid him, bribed him, 
 and induced him to act with the blackest perfidy, by 
 telling the King quite a different story to that he was 
 charged with. In this way, the project for the siege of 
 Barcelona was entirely broken, at the moment for its 
 execution, and with the most reasonable hopes of 
 success ; and upon M. de Noailles rested all the blame. 
 What a thunderbolt this was for him may easily be
 
 HOW HE GETS INTO FAVOUR AGAIN. 73 
 
 imagined. But the trick had been so well played, 
 that he could not clear himself with the King; 
 and all through this winter he remained out of 
 favour. 
 
 At last he thought of a means by which he might 
 regain his position. He saw the inclination of the 
 King for his illegitimate children, and determined to 
 make a sacrifice in favour of one of them, rightly 
 judging that this would be a sure means to step back 
 into the confidence he had been so craftily driven from. 
 His scheme, which he caused to be placed before the 
 King, was to go into Catalonia at the commencement of 
 the next campaign, to make a semblance of falling ill 
 immediately upon arriving, to send to Versailles a 
 request that he might be recalled, and at the same 
 time a suggestion that M. de Vendome (who would 
 then be near Nice, under Marechal Catinat) should 
 succeed him. In order that no time might be lost, nor 
 the army left without a general, he proposed to carry 
 with him the letters patent, appointing M. de Vendome, 
 and to send them to him at the same time that he sent 
 to be recalled. -ft. }: 
 
 It is impossible to express the relief and satisfaction 
 with which this proposition was received. The King 
 was delighted with it, as with everything tending to 
 advance his illegitimate children and to put a slight 
 upon the Princes of the blood. He could not openly 
 have made this promotion without embroiling himself 
 with the latter; but coming as it would from M. de 
 Xoailles, he had nothing to fear. M. de Vendome, 
 once general of an army, could no longer serve in any
 
 74 M. DE VENDOME IN COMMAND. 
 
 other quality, and would act as a stepping-stone for 
 M. du Maine. 
 
 From this moment M. de Noailles returned more 
 than ever into the good graces of the King. Every- 
 thing happened as it had been arranged. But the 
 secret was betrayed in the execution. Surprise was 
 felt that at the same moment M. de Noailles sent a 
 request to be recalled, he also sent, and without wait- 
 ing for a reply, to call M. de Yendome to the com- 
 mand. What completely raised the veil were the letters 
 patent that he sent immediately after to M. de Yen- 
 dome, and that it was known he could not have re- 
 ceived from the King in the time that had elapsed. 
 M. de Noailles returned from Catalonia, and was 
 received as his address merited. He feigned being 
 lame with rheumatism, and played the part for a long 
 time, but forgot himself occasionally, and made his com- 
 pany smile. He fixed himself at the Court, and gained 
 there much more favour than he could have gained by 
 the war ; to the great vexation of Barbezieux. 
 
 M. de Luxembourg very strangely married his 
 daughter at this time to the Chevalier de Soissons (an 
 illegitimate son of the Count de Soissons), brought out 
 from the greatest obscurity by the Comtesse de Ne- 
 mours, and adopted by her to spite her family. M. de 
 Luxembourg did not long survive this fine marriage. 
 At sixty-seven years of age he believed himself twenty- 
 five, and lived accordingly. The want of genuine in- 
 trigues, from which his age and his face excluded him, 
 he supplied by money-power; and his intimacy, and 
 that of his son, with the Prince de Conti and Albergotti
 
 CHARACTER OF M. DE LUXEMBOURG. 75 
 
 was kept up almost entirety by the community of their 
 habits, and the secret parties of pleasure they con- 
 cocted together. All the burden of marches, of orders of 
 subsistence, fell upon a subordinate. Nothing could be 
 more exact than the coup (Tai'd of M. de Luxembourg 
 nobody could be more brilliant, more sagacious, more 
 penetrating than he before the enemy or in battle, and 
 this, too, with an audacity, an ease, and at the same 
 time a coolness, which allowed him to see all and fore- 
 see all under the hottest fire, and in the most im- 
 minent danger. It was at such times that he was 
 great. For the rest, he was idleness itself. He rarely 
 walked unless absolutely obliged, spent his time in 
 gaming, or in conversation with his familiars ; and 
 had every evening a supper with a chosen few (nearly 
 always the same) ; and if near a town, the sex were 
 always agreeably mingled with them. When thus 
 occupied, he was inaccessible to eveiybody, and if 
 anything pressing happened, it was his subordinate 
 who attended to it. Such was at the army the life of 
 this great general, and such it was at Paris, except 
 that the Court and the great world occupied his days, 
 and his pleasures the evenings. At last, age, tempera- 
 ment, and constitution betrayed him. He fell ill at 
 Versailles. Given over by Fagon, the King's physi- 
 cian, Coretti, an Italian, who had secrets of his own, 
 undertook his cure, and relieved him, but only for a 
 short time. His door during this illness was besieged 
 by all the Court. The King sent to inquire after him, 
 but it was more for appearance sake than from sym- 
 pathy, for I have already remarked that the King
 
 76 CONTINUATION OF THE TRIAL FOR PRECEDENCE. 
 
 did not like him. The brilliancy of his campaigns, 
 and the difficulty of replacing him, caused all the 
 disquietude. Becoming worse, M. de Luxembourg 
 received the sacraments, showed some religion and 
 firmness, and died on the morning of the 4th of Janu- 
 ary, 1695, the fifth day of his illness, much regretted 
 by many people, but personally esteemed by none, and 
 loved by very few. 
 
 Not one of the Dues M. de Luxembourg had attacked 
 went to see him during his illness. I neither went nor 
 sent, although at Versailles, and I must admit that 
 I felt my deliverance from such an enemy. 
 
 Here, perhaps, I may as well relate the result of the 
 trial in which we were engaged, and which, after the 
 death of M. de Luxembourg, was continued by his 
 son. It was not judged until the following year. I 
 have shown that by our implicating the Due de 
 Gesvres, the Chief President had been declared inca- 
 pable of trying the case. The rage he conceived 
 against us cannot be expressed, and, great actor as he 
 was, he could not hide it. All his endeavour after- 
 wards was to do what he could against us ; the rest of 
 the mask fell, and the deformity of the judge appeared 
 in the man, stripped of all disguise. 
 
 We immediately signified to M. de Luxembourg 
 that he must choose between the letters patent of 1581 
 and those of 1662. If he abandoned the first the case 
 fell through ; in repudiating the last he renounced the 
 certainty of being duke and peer after us ; and ran 
 the risk of being reduced to an inferior title previously 
 granted to him. The position was a delicate one ; he
 
 AN INSOLENT LAWYER. 77 
 
 was affrighted ; but after much consultation he resolved 
 to run all risks and maintain his pretensions. It thus 
 simply became a question of his right to the title of 
 Due de Piney, with the privilege attached to it as a 
 creation of 1581. 
 
 In the spring of 160G the case was at last brought 
 on, before the assembly of all the chambers. Myself 
 and the other Dues seated ourselves in court to hear 
 the proceedings. The trial commenced. All the facts 
 and particulars of the cause were brought forward. Our 
 advocates spoke, and then few doubted but that we 
 should gain the victory. M. de Luxembourg's advo- 
 cate, Dumont, was next heard. He was very audacious, 
 and spoke so insolently of us, saying, in Scripture 
 phraseology, that we honoured the King with our lips, 
 whilst our hearts were far from him, that I could not 
 contain myself. I was seated between the Due de la 
 Rochefoucauld and the Due d'Estrees. I stood up, 
 crying out against the imposture of this knave, and 
 calling for justice on him. M. de la Eochefoucauld 
 pulled me back, made me keep silent, and I plunged 
 down into my seat more from anger against him than 
 against the advocate. My movement excited a murmur. 
 We might on the instant have had justice against 
 Dumont, but the opportunity had passed for us to ask 
 for it, and the President de Maisons made a slight 
 excuse for him. We complained, however, afterwards 
 to the King, who expressed his surprise that Dumont 
 had not been stopped in the midst of his speech. 
 
 The summing up was made by D'Aguesseau, who 
 acquitted himself of the task with much eloquence and
 
 78 EXTRAORDINARY DECREE. 
 
 impartiality. His speech lasted two days. This being 
 over, the court was cleared, and the judges were left 
 alone to deliberate upon their verdict. Some time 
 after we were called in to hear that verdict given. It 
 was in favour of M. de Luxembourg in so far as the 
 title dating from 1662 was concerned ; but the con- 
 sideration of his claim to the title of 1581 was 
 adjourned indefinitely, so that he remained exactly 
 in the same position as his father. 
 
 It was with difficulty we could believe in a decree so 
 unjust and so novel, and which decided a question 
 that was not under dispute. I was outraged, but I 
 endeavoured to contain myself. I spoke to M. de la 
 Rochefoucauld ; I tried to make him listen to me, and to 
 agree that we should complain to the King, but I spoke 
 to a man furious, incapable of understanding anything 
 or of doing anything. Returning to my own house, 
 I wrote a letter to the King, in which I complained of 
 the opinion of the judges. I also pointed out, that 
 when everybody had been ordered to retire -from the 
 council chamber, Harlay and his secretary had been 
 allowed to remain. On these and other grounds I 
 begged the King to grant a new trial. 
 
 I carried this letter to the Due de la Tremoille, but 
 I could not get him to look at it. I returned home 
 more vexed if possible than when I left. The 
 King, nevertheless, was exceedingly dissatisfied with 
 the judgment. He explained himself to that effect at 
 his dinner, and in a manner but little advantageous to 
 the Parliament, and prepared himself to receive the 
 complaints he expected would be laid before him. But
 
 EFFECT PRODUCED. 79 
 
 the obstinacy of M. de la Rochefoucauld, which 
 turned into vexation against himself, rendered it im- 
 possible for us to take any steps in the matter, and so 
 overwhelmed me with displeasure, that I retired to 
 La Trappe during Passion "Week in order to recover 
 myself. 
 
 At my return I learned that the King had spoken of 
 this judgment to the Chief President, and that that 
 magistrate had blamed it, saying the cause was in- 
 dubitably ours, and that he had always thought so ! 
 If he thought so, why oppose us so long ? and if he 
 did not think so, what a prevaricator was he to reply 
 with this flattery, so as to be in accord with the King ! 
 The judges themselves were ashamed of their verdict, 
 and excused themselves for it on the ground of their 
 compassion for the state in which M. de Luxembourg 
 would have been placed had he lost the title of 1662, 
 and upon its being impossible that he should gain the 
 one of 1581, of which they had left him the chimera. 
 M. de Luxembourg was accordingly received at the 
 Parliament, on the 4th of the following May, with the 
 rank of 1662. He came and visited all of us, but we 
 would have no intercourse with him or with his judges. 
 To the Advocate-General, D'Aguesseau, we carried our 
 thanks.
 
 80 HARLAY AND THE DUTCH- 
 
 CHAPTEK VII. 
 
 Harlay and the Dutch Death of the Princess of Orange Count Kcenigs- 
 marck A new Proposal of Marriage My Marriage That of M. de 
 Lauzun Its Result La Fontaine and Mignard Illness of theMarechal 
 de Lorges Operations on the Rhine Village of Seckenheim An 
 - Episode of War Cowardice of M. du Maine Despair of the King, 
 who takes a Knave in the Act Bon Mot of M. d'Elboeuf. 
 
 THUS ended this long and important case ; and now 
 let me go back again to the events of the previous 
 year. 
 
 Towards the end of the summer and the commence- 
 ment of the "winter of 1695, negotiations for peace 
 were set on foot by the King. Harlay, son-in-law of 
 our enemy, was sent to Maestricht to sound the Dutch. 
 But in proportion as they saw peace desired were they 
 less inclined to listen to terms. They had even the 
 impudence to insinuate to Harlay, whose paleness and 
 thinness were extraordinary, that they took him for a 
 sample of the reduced state of France ! He, without 
 getting angry, replied pleasantly, that if they would 
 give him the time to send for his wife, they would, 
 perhaps, conceive another opinion of the position of 
 the realm. In effect, she was extremely fat, and of a 
 very high colour. He was rather roughly dismissed, 
 and hastened to regain our frontier. 
 
 Two events followed each other very closely this 
 winter. The first was the death of the Princess of
 
 DEATH OF THE PRINCESS OF ORANGE. 81 
 
 Orange, in London, at the end of January. The King 
 of England * prayed our King to allow the Court to 
 wear no mourning, and it was even prohibited to 
 M. de Bouillon and M. de Duras, who were both 
 related to the Prince of Orange. The order was 
 obeyed, and no word was said; but this sort of 
 vengeance was thought petty. Hopes were held out 
 of a change in England, but they vanished imme- 
 diately, and the Prince of Orange appeared more 
 accredited there and stronger than ever. The Princess 
 was much regretted, and the Prince of Orange, who 
 loved her and gave her his entire confidence, and even 
 most marked respect, was for some days ill with 
 grief. 
 
 The other event was strange. The Duke of Hanover, 
 who, in 'consequence of the Revolution, was destined to 
 the throne of England after the Prince and Princess 
 of Orange and the Princess of Denmark, had married 
 his cousin-german, a daughter of the Duke of Zell. 
 She was beautiful, and he lived happily with her for 
 some time. The Count of Koenigsmarck, young and 
 very well made, came to the Court, and gave him some 
 umbrage. The Duke of Hanover became jealous ; he 
 watched his wife and the Count, and at length believed 
 himself fully assured of what he would have wished to 
 remain ignorant of all his life. Fury seized him : he 
 had the Count arrested, and thrown into a hot oven. 
 Immediately afterwards he sent his wife to her father, 
 who shut her up in one of his castles, where she was 
 strictly guarded by the people of the Duke of Hanover. 
 
 * James II., in exile.
 
 82 COUNT KCENIGSMARCK. 
 
 \ 
 
 An assembly of the Consistory was held in order to 
 break off his marriage. It was decided, very singularly,, 
 that the marriage was annulled so far as the Duke 
 was concerned, and that he could marry another 
 woman ; but that it remained binding on the Duchess,, 
 and that she could not marry. The children she had 
 had during her marriage were declared legitimate. The 
 Duke of Hanover did not remain persuaded as to this 
 last article. 
 
 The King, entirely occupied with the aggrandise- 
 ment of his natural children, had heaped upon the 
 Comte de Toulouse every possible favour. He now 
 (in order to evade a promise he had made to his 
 brother, that the first vacant government should be 
 given to the Due de Chartres) forced M. de Chaulnes 
 to give up the government of Brittany, which he 
 had long held, and conferred it upon the Comte de 
 Toulouse, giving to the friend and heir of the former 
 the successorship to the government of Guyenne, by 
 way of recompense. 
 
 M. de Chaulnes was old and fat, but much loved 
 by the people of Brittany. He was overwhelmed by 
 this determination of the King, and his wife, who 
 had long been accustomed to play the little Queen r 
 still more so; yet there was nothing for them, but 
 to obey. They did obey, but it was with a sorrow 
 and chagrin they could not hide. 
 
 The appointment was announced one morning at 
 the rising of the King. Monsieur, who awoke later, 
 heard of it at the drawing of his curtains, and was 
 extremely piqued. The Comte de Toulouse came
 
 A NEW PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. 83 
 
 shortly afterwards, and announced it himself. Mon- 
 sieur interrupted him, and before everybody assembled 
 there said, " The King has given you a good present ; 
 but I know not if what he has done is good policy." 
 Monsieur went shortly afterwards to the King, and 
 reproached him for giving, under cover of a trick, the 
 government of Brittany to the Comte de Toulouse, 
 having promised it to the Due de Chartres. The 
 King heard him in silence : he knew well how to 
 appease him. Some money for play and to embellish 
 Saint Cloud, soon effaced Monsieur's chagrin. 
 
 All this winter my mother was solely occupied in 
 finding a good match for me. Some attempt was made 
 to marry me to Mademoiselle de Royan. It would 
 have been a noble and rich marriage ; but I was alone, 
 Mademoiselle de Royan was an orphan, and I wished 
 a father-in-law and a family upon whom I could lean. 
 During the preceding year there had been some talk of 
 the eldest daughter of Marechal de Lorges for me. 
 The affair had fallen through, almost as soon as sug- 
 gested, and now, on both sides, there was a desire 
 to recommence negotiations. The probity, integrity, 
 the freedom of Marechal de Lorges pleased me infi- 
 nitely, and everything tended to give me an extreme 
 desire for this marriage. Madame de Lorges by her 
 virtue and good sense was all I could wish for as the 
 mother of my future wife. Mademoiselle de Lorges 
 was a blonde, with complexion and figure perfect, a very 
 amiable face, an extremely noble and modest deport- 
 ment, and with I know not what of majesty derived 
 from her air of virtue, and of natural gentleness. The 
 
 o 2
 
 84 MY MARRIAGE. 
 
 Marechal had five other daughters, but I liked this 
 one best without comparison, and hoped to find with 
 her that happiness which she since has given me. As 
 she has become my wife, I will abstain here from 
 saying more about her, unless it be that she has 
 exceeded all that was promised of her, and all that I 
 myself had hoped. 
 
 My marriage being agreed upon and arranged, the 
 Marechal de Lorges spoke of it to the King, who had 
 the goodness to reply to him that he could not do 
 better, and to speak of me very obligingly. The mar- 
 riage accordingly took place at the Hotel de Lorges, 
 on the 8th of April, 1695, w r hich I have abrays 
 regarded, and with good reason, as the happiest day 
 of my life. My mother treated me like the best 
 mother in the world. On the Thursday before Quasi- 
 modo the contract was signed ; a grand repast fol- 
 lowed ; at midnight the cure of Saint Roch said mass, 
 and married us in the chapel of the house. On 
 the eve, my mother had sent forty thousand livres' 
 worth of precious stones to Mademoiselle de Lorges, 
 and I six hundred louis in a corbeille filled with all the 
 knick-knacks that are given on these occasions. 
 
 We slept in the grand apartment of the Hotel des 
 Lorges. On the morrow, after dinner, my wife went to 
 bed, and received a crowd of visitors, who came to pay 
 their respects and to gratify their curiosity. The next 
 evening we went to Versailles, and were received by 
 Madame de Maintenon and the King. On arriving at 
 the supper-table, the King said to the new Duchesse : 
 " Madame, will you be pleased to seat yourself ? "
 
 THAT OF M. DE LAUZUN. 85 
 
 His napkin being unfolded, lie saw all the duchesses 
 and princesses still standing ; and, rising in his chair, 
 he said to Madame de Saint Simon " Madame, I have 
 already begged you to be seated ; " and all imme- 
 diately seated themselves. On the morrow, Madame 
 de St. Simon received all the Court in her bed in the 
 apartment of the Duchesse d'Arpajon, as being more 
 handy, being on the ground-floor. Our festivities 
 finished by a supper that I gave to the former friends of 
 my father, whose acquaintance I had always cultivated 
 with great care. 
 
 Almost immediately after my marriage the second 
 daughter of the Marechal de Lorges followed in the 
 footsteps of her sister. She was fifteen years of age, 
 and at the reception of Madame de Saint Simon had 
 attracted the admiration of M. de Lauzun, who was 
 then sixty-three. Since his retum to the Court 
 he had been re-instated in the dignity he had pre- 
 viously held. He flattered himself that by marrying 
 the daughter of a General he should re -open a path to 
 himself for command in the army. Full of this idea 
 he spoke to M. de Lorges, who was by no means in- 
 clined towards the marriage. M. de Lauzun offered, 
 however, to marry without dowry ; and M. de Lorges, 
 moved by this consideration, assented to his wish. 
 The affair concluded, M. de Lorges spoke of it to the 
 King. " You are bold," said his Majesty, " to take 
 Lauzun into your family. I hope you may not 
 repent of it." 
 
 The contract was soon after signed. M. de Lorges 
 gave no dowry with his daughter, but she was to
 
 86 RESULT or LAUZUN'S MARRIAGE. 
 
 inherit something upon the death of M. Fremont. We 
 carried this contract to the King, who smiled and 
 bantered M. de Lauznn. M. de Lauzun replied, that 
 he was onl}- too happy, since it was the first time since 
 his return that he had seen the King smile at him. The 
 marriage took place without delay : there were only 
 seven or eight persons present at the ceremony. M. 
 de Lauzun would undress himself alone with his valet 
 de chambre, and did not enter the apartment of his 
 wife until after everybody had left it, and she was in 
 bed with the curtains closed, and nobody to meet him 
 on his passage. His wife received compan} r in bed, as 
 mine had done. Nobody was able to understand this 
 marriage; and all foresaw that a rupture w r ould 
 speedily be brought about by the well-known temper 
 of M. de Lauzun. In effect, this is what soon hap- 
 pened. The Marechal de Lorges, remaining still in 
 weak health, was deemed by the King unable to take 
 the field again, and his army was given over to the 
 command of another General. M. de Lauzun thus 
 saw all his hopes of advancement at an end, and, dis- 
 contented that the Marechal had done nothing for him, 
 broke off all connection with the family, took away 
 Madame de Lauzun from her mother (to the great 
 grief of the latter, who doted upon this daughter), and 
 established her in a house of his own adjoining the 
 Assumption, in the Faubourg St. Honore. There she 
 had to endure her husband's continual caprices, but 
 little removed in their manifestation from madness. 
 Everybody cast blame upon him, and strongly pitied her 
 and her father and mother ; but nobody was surprised.
 
 LA FONTAINE AND MIGNARD. 87 
 
 A few days after the marriage of M. de Lauzun, 
 as the King was being wheeled in his easy chair, in 
 the gardens at Versailles, he asked me for many 
 minute particulars concerning the family of the 
 Marechal de Lorges. He then set himself to joke 
 with me upon the marriage of M. de Lauzun and 
 upon mine. He said to me, in spite of that gravity 
 which never quitted him, that he had learnt from the 
 Marechal, I had well acquitted myself, but that he 
 believed the Marechale had still better news. 
 
 The loss of two illustrious men, about this time, 
 made more noise than that of two of our grand ladies. 
 The first of these men was La Fontaine, so well 
 known by his Fables and stories, and who, neverthe- 
 less, was so heavy in conversation. The other was 
 Mignard so illustrious by his pencil : he had an 
 only daughter perfectly beautiful : she is repeated in 
 several of those magnificent historical pictures which 
 adorn the grand gallery of Versailles and its two 
 salons, and which have had no slight share in irri- 
 tating all Europe against the King, and in leaguing it 
 still more against his person than his realm. 
 
 At the usual time the armies were got ready for 
 active service, and everybody set out to join them. 
 That of the Rhine, in which I was, was commanded by 
 the Marechal de Lorges. No sooner had we crossed 
 the river and come upon the enemy, than the Marechal 
 fell ill. Although we were in want of forage and were 
 badly encamped, nobody complained nobody wished 
 to move. Never did an army show so much interest 
 in the life of its chief, or so much love for him. M.
 
 88 ILLNESS OF THE MARECHAL DE LORGES. 
 
 de Lorges was in truth at the last extremity, and the 
 doctors that had been sent for from Strasbourg gave 
 him up entirely. I took upon myself to administer to 
 him some " English Drops." One hundred and thirty 
 were given him in three doses : the effect was astonish- 
 ing ; an eruption burst out upon the Marechal's body, 
 and saved his life. His illness was not however at an 
 end, and the army, although suffering considerably, 
 would not hear of moving, until he was quite ready to 
 move also. There was no extremity it would not 
 undergo rather than endanger the life of its chief. 
 
 Prince Louis of Baden offered by trumpets all sorts 
 of assistance doctors and remedies, and gave his word 
 that if the army removed from its General, he and those 
 who remained with him should be provided with forage 
 and provisions should be unmolested, and allowed to 
 rejoin the main body in perfect safety, or go whither- 
 soever they pleased. He was thanked, as he merited, for 
 those very kind offers, which we did not wish however 
 to profit by. 
 
 Little by little the health of the General was re-estab- 
 lished, and the army demonstrated its joy by bonfires 
 all over the camp, and by salvos, which it was impossi- 
 ble to prevent. Never was seen testimony of love so 
 universal or so flattering. The King was much con- 
 cerned at the illness of the Marechal; all the Court 
 was infinitely touched by it. M. de Lorges was not 
 less loved by it than by the troops. "When able to 
 support the fatigues of the journey, he was removed in 
 a coach to Philipsburg, where he was joined by the 
 Marechale, who had come there to meet him. The
 
 OPERATIONS ON THE RHINE. 89 
 
 next day he went to Landau, and I, who formed one of 
 his numerous and distinguished escort, accompanied 
 him . there, and then returned to the army, which 
 was placed under the command of the Marechal de 
 Joyeuse. 
 
 We found it at about three leagues from Ketsch, its 
 right at Roth, and its left at Waldsdorff. We learned 
 that Marechal de Joyeuse had lost a good occasion of 
 fighting the enemy ; but as I was not in camp at the 
 time, I will say no more of the matter. Our position 
 was not good : Schwartz was on our left, and the Prince 
 of Baden on our right, hemming us in, as it were, 
 between them. We had no forage, whilst they had 
 abundance of everything, and were able to procure all 
 they wanted. There was a contest who should decamp 
 the last. All our communications were cut oif with 
 Philipsburg, so that we could not re-pass the Rhine 
 under the protection of that place. To get out of our 
 position, it was necessary to defile before our enemies 
 into the plain of Hockenun, and this was a delicate 
 operation. The most annoying circumstance was, that 
 M. de Joyeuse would communicate with nobody, and 
 was so ill-tempered that none dared to speak to him. 
 At last he determined upon his plans, and I was of the 
 detachment by which they were to be carried out. 
 We were sent to Manheim to see if out of the ruins of 
 that place (burned in 1G88 by M. de Louvois) sufficient 
 materials could >be found to construct, bridges, by 
 which we might cross the Rhine there. We found that 
 the bridges could be made, and returned to announce 
 this to M. de Joyeuse. Accordingly, on the 20th of
 
 90 VILLAGE OF SECKENHELM. 
 
 July the army put itself in movement. The march 
 was made in the utmost confusion. Everything was 
 in disorder ; the infantry and cavalry were huddled 
 together pell-mell ; no commands could he acted upon, 
 a,nd indeed the whole army was so disorganised, that it 
 <;ould have heen easily beaten by a handful of men. 
 In effect, the enemy at last tried to take advantage of 
 our confusion, by sending a few troops to harass us. 
 But it was too late ; we had sufficiently rallied to be 
 able to turn upon them, and they narrowly escaped 
 falling into our hands. We encamped that night in 
 the plain on the banks of the Necker our rear at 
 Manheim, and our left at Seckenheim, while waiting for 
 the remainder of the army, still very distant. Indeed, 
 so great had been the confusion, that the first troops 
 .arrived at one o'clock at night, and the last late in the 
 morning of the next day. 
 
 I thought that our head-quarters were to be in this 
 village of Seckenheim, and, in company with several 
 officers, took possession of a large house and prepared 
 to pass the night there. While we were resting from the 
 fatigues of the day we heard a great noise, and soon 
 after a frightful uproar. It was caused by a body of 
 our men, who, searching for water, had discovered this 
 village, and after having quenched their thirst had, under 
 the cover of thick darkness, set themselves to pillage, 
 to violate, to massacre, and to commit all the horrors 
 inspired by the most unbridled licence. La Bretesche, 
 a lieutenant-general, declared to me that he had 
 never seen anything like it, although he had several 
 times been at pillages and sackings. He was very
 
 AN EPISODE OF WAR. 91 
 
 grateful that he had not yielded to my advice, and 
 taken off his wooden leg to be more at his ease ; for 
 in a short time we ourselves were invaded, and had 
 some trouble to defend ourselves. As we bore the 
 livery of M. de Lorges, we were respected, but those 
 who bore that of M. de Joyeuse were in some cases 
 severely maltreated. We passed the rest of the night as 
 well as we could in this unhappy place, which was not 
 abandoned by our soldiers until long after there was 
 nothing more to find. At daylight we went to the camp. 
 
 We found the army beginning to move : it had 
 passed the night as well as it could without order, 
 the troops constantly arriving, and the last comers 
 simply joining themselves on to the rest. Our camp was 
 soon, however, properly formed, and on the 24th July, 
 the bridges being ready, all the army crossed the 
 Ehine, without any attempt being made by the enemy 
 to follow us. On the day after, the Marechal de Joyeuse 
 permitted me to go to Landau, where I remained with the 
 Marechal and the Marechale de Lorges until the General 
 was again able to place himself at the head of his army. 
 
 Nothing of importance was done by our other armies ; 
 but in Flanders an interesting adventure occurred. 
 The Prince of Orange, after playing a fine game of 
 chess with our army, suddenly invested Namur with a 
 large force; leaving the rest of his troops under the com- 
 mand of M. de Vaudemont. The Marechal de Villeroy, 
 who had the command of our army in Flanders, at once 
 pressed upon M. de Vaudemont, who, being much the 
 weaker of the two, tried hard to escape. Both felt that 
 everything was in their hands : Vaudemont, that upon his
 
 92 COWARDICE OF M. DE MAINE. 
 
 safety depended the success of the siege of Nainur; and 
 Villeroy, that to his victory was attached the fate of the 
 Low Countries, and very likely a glorious peace, with all 
 the personal results of such an event. He took his mea- 
 sures so well that on the evening of the 13th of July 
 it was impossible for M. de Vaudernont to escape 
 falling into his hands on the 14th, and he wrote thus 
 to the King. At daybreak on the 14th M. de Villeroy 
 sent word to M. de Maine to commence the action. 
 Impatient that his orders were not obeyed, he sent 
 again five or six times. M. de Maine wished in the 
 first instance to reconnoitre, then to confess himself, 
 and delayed in effect so long that M. de Yaudemont 
 was able to commence his retreat. The general officers 
 cried out at this. One of them came to M. de Maine 
 and reminded him of the repeated orders of the Marechal 
 de Villeroy, represented the importance of victory, and 
 the ease with which it could be obtained : with tears 
 in his eyes he begged M. de Maine to commence the 
 attack. It was all in vain ; M. de Maine stammered, 
 and could not be prevailed upon to charge, and so 
 allowed M. de Vaudemont's army to escape, when 
 by a single movement it might have been entirely 
 defeated. 
 
 All our army was in despair, and officers and soldiers 
 made no scruple of expressing their anger and contempt. 
 M. de Villeroy, more outraged than anybody else, was yet 
 too good a courtier to excuse himself at the expense of 
 M. de Maine. He simply wrote to the King, that he 
 had been deceived in those hopes of success which 
 appeared certain the day before, entered into no further
 
 DESPAIR OF THE KING. 93 
 
 details, and resigned himself to all that might happen. 
 The King, who had counted the hours until news of a great 
 and decisive victory should reach him, was very much 
 surprised when this letter came : he saw at once that 
 something strange had happened of which no intelligence 
 had been sent : he searched the Gazettes of Holland ; 
 in one he read of a great action said to have been 
 fought, and in which M. de Maine had been grievously 
 wounded ; in the next the news of the action was con- 
 tradicted, and M. de Maine was declared to have 
 received no wounds at all. In order to learn what had 
 really taken place, the King sent for Lavienne, a man 
 he was in the habit of consulting when he wanted to 
 learn things no one else dared to tell him. 
 
 This Lavienne had been a bath-keeper much in 
 vogue in Paris, and had become bath-keeper to the 
 King at the time of his amours. He had pleased by 
 his drugs, which had frequently put the King in a 
 state to enjoy himself more, and this road had led 
 Lavienne to become one of the four chief valets de 
 chambre. He was a very honest man, but coarse, 
 rough, and free-spoken ; it was this last quality which 
 made him useful in the manner I have before mentioned. 
 From Lavienne the King, but not without difficulty, 
 learned the truth : it threw him into despair. The 
 other illegitimate children were favourites with him, 
 but it was upon M. de Maine that all his hopes were 
 placed. They now fell to the ground, and the grief of 
 the King was unsupportable : he felt deeply for that 
 dear son whose troops had become the laughing-stock 
 of the army ; he felt the railleries that, as the Gazettes
 
 04 THE KING TAKES A KNAVE IN THE ACT. 
 
 showed him, foreigners were heaping upon his forces ; 
 and his vexation was inconceivable. 
 
 This Prince, so equal in his manners, so thoroughly 
 master of his lightest movements, even upon the 
 gravest occasions, succumbed under this event. On 
 rising from the table at Marly, he saw a servant who, 
 while taking away the dessert, helped himself to a 
 biscuit, which he put in his pocket. On the instant, 
 the King forgets his dignity, and cane in hand runs to 
 this valet (who little suspected what was in store for 
 him), strikes him, abuses him, and breaks the cane 
 upon his body ! The truth is, 'twas only a reed, and 
 snapped easily. However, the stump in his hand, he 
 walked away like a man quite beside himself, continuing 
 to abuse this valet, and entered Madame de Maintenon's 
 room, where he remained nearly an hour. Upon coming- 
 out he met Father la Chaise. " My father," said the 
 King to him in a very loud voice, " I have beaten a 
 knave and broken my cane over his shoulders, but I 
 do not think I have offended God." Everybody around 
 trembled at this public confession, and the poor priest 
 muttered a semblance of approval between his teeth, 
 to avoid irritating the King more. The noise that 
 the affair made and the terror it inspired may be 
 imagined ; for nobody could divine for some time the 
 cause, and everybody easily understood that that which 
 had appeared could not be the real one. To finish 
 with this matter, once for all, let us add here the 
 saying of M. d'Elbceuf. Courtier though he was, the up- 
 ward flight of the illegitimate children wieghed upon his 
 heart. As the campaign was at its close and the Princes
 
 BON MOT OP M. D'ELBCEUF. 95 
 
 were about to depart, he begged M. de Maine before 
 everybody to say where he expected to serve during the 
 next campaign, because wherever it might be he should 
 like to be there also. After, being pressed to say why, 
 he replied that " with him one's life was safe." This 
 pointed remark made much noise. M. de Maine 
 lowered his eyes, and did not reply one word. As for 
 the Marechal de Villeroy he grew more and more in 
 favour with the King and with Madame de Maintenon. 
 The bitter fruit of M. de Maine's act was the taking of 
 Namur, which capitulated on August 4th (1695). The 
 Marechal de Villeroy in turn bombarded Brussels, which 
 was sorely maltreated. The Marechal de Boufflers, who 
 had defended Namur, was made Due, and those who 
 had served under him were variously rewarded. This 
 gave occasion for the Prince of Orange to say, that the 
 King recompensed more liberally the loss of a place 
 than he could the conquest of one. The army retired 
 into winter-quarters at the end of October, and the 
 Generals went to Paris. 
 
 As for me, I remained six weeks at Landau with M. 
 and Madame Lorges. At the end of that time, the 
 Marechal, having regained his health, returned to the 
 army, where he was welcomed with the utmost joy : 
 he soon after had an attack of apoplexy, and, by not 
 attending to his malady in time, became seriously ill 
 again. When a little recovered, he and Madame de 
 Lorges set out for Vichy, and I went to Paris.
 
 96 RISE OF M. DE FENELOX. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The Abbe de Fenelon The Jansenists and St. Sulpice Alliance with 
 Madame Gnyon Preceptor of the Royal Children Acquaintance 
 with Madame de Maintenon Appointment to Cambrai Disclosure 
 of Madame Guyon's Doctrines Her Disgrace Bossuet and Fenelon 
 Two Rival Books Disgrace of Fenelon. 
 
 BEFORE speaking of what happened at Court after 
 my return, it will be necessary to record what had 
 occurred there during the campaign. 
 
 M. de Brias, archbishop of Cambrai, had died, and 
 the King had given that valuable preferment to the 
 Abbe de Fenelon, preceptor of the children of France. 
 Fenelon was a man of quality, without fortune, whom 
 the consciousness of wit of the insinuating and capti- 
 vating kind united with much ability, gracefulness of 
 intellect, and learning, inspired with ambition. He 
 had been long going about from door to door, knocking 
 for admission, but without success. Piqued against 
 the Jesuits, to whom he had addressed himself at first, 
 as holding all favours in their hands, and discouraged 
 because unable to succeed in that quarter, he turned 
 next to the Jansenists, to console himself by the 
 reputation he hoped he should derive from them, 
 for the loss of those gifts of fortune which hitherto had 
 despised him. 
 
 He remained a considerable time undergoing the
 
 THE JANSENISTS AND ST. SULPICE. 97 
 
 process of initiation, and succeeded at last in being 
 of the private parties that some of the important 
 Jansenists then held once or twice a week at the 
 house of the Duchesse de Brancas. I know not if he 
 appeared too clever for them, or if he hoped elsewhere 
 for better things than he could get among people who 
 had only sores to share; but little by little his inti- 
 macy with them cooled ; and by dint of turning around 
 Saint Sulpice, he succeeded in forming another con- 
 nection there, upon which he built greater expec- 
 tations. This society of priests was beginning to 
 distinguish itself, and from a seminary of a Paris 
 parish to extend abroad. Ignorance, the minuteness 
 of their practices, the absence of all patrons and of 
 members at all distinguished in any way, inspired 
 them with a blind obedience to Rome and to all its 
 maxims ; with a great aversion for everything that 
 passed for Jansenism, and made them so dependent 
 upon the bishops that they began to be considered an 
 acquisition in many dioceses. They appeared a middle 
 party, very useful to the prelates ; who equally feared 
 the Court, on account of suspicions of doctrine, and the 
 Jesuits : for as soon as the latter had insinuated 
 themselves into the good graces of the prelates, they 
 imposed their yoke upon them, or ruined them 
 hopelessly; thus the Sulpicians grew apace. None 
 amongst them could compare in any way with the 
 Abbe de Fenelon ; so that he was able easily to play 
 first fiddle, and to make himself protectors who were 
 interested in advancing him, in order that they 
 might be protected in turn. His piety, which was all
 
 98 MADAME GUYON. 
 
 things to all men, and his doctrine that he formed 
 upon theirs, (abjuring, as it were, in whispers, the 
 impurities he might have contracted amongst those he 
 had abandoned), the charms, the graces, the sweet- 
 ness, the insinuation of his mind, rendered him a dear 
 friend to this new congregation, and procured for him 
 what he had long sought, people upon whom he 
 could lean, and who could and would serve him. 
 Whilst waiting opportunities, he carefully courted these 
 people, without thinking, however, of positively join- 
 ing them, his views being more ambitious ; so that he 
 ever sought to make new acquaintances and friends. 
 His was a coquettish mind, which from people the 
 most influential down to the workman and the lackey 
 sought appreciation and was determined to please; 
 and his talents for this work perfectly seconded his 
 desires. 
 
 At this time, and while still obscure, he heard speak 
 of Madame Guyon, who has since made so much noise 
 in the world, and who is too well known to need that 
 I should dwell upon her here. He saw her. There 
 was an interchange of pleasure between their minds. 
 Their sublimes amalgamated. I know not if they 
 understood each other very clearly in that system, 
 and that new tongue which they hatched subsequently, 
 but they persuaded themselves they did, and friendship 
 grew up between them. Although more known than 
 he, Madame Guyon was nevertheless not much known, 
 and their intimacy was not perceived, because nobody 
 thought of them ; Saint Sulpice even was ignorant of 
 what was going on.
 
 PRECEPTOR OF THE CHILDREN OF FRANCE. 99 
 
 The Due de Beauvilliers became Governor of the 
 children of France almost in spite of himself, without 
 having thought of it. He had to choose a preceptor for 
 Monseigneur le Due de Bourgogne. He addressed 
 himself to Saint Sulpice, where for a long time he had 
 confessed, for he liked and protected it. He had heard 
 speak of Fenelon with eulogy : the Sulpicians vaunted 
 his piety, his intelligence, his knowledge, his talents ; 
 at last they proposed him for preceptor. The Due de 
 Beauvilliers saw him, was charmed with him, and 
 Appointed him to the office. 
 
 As soon as installed, Fenelon saw of what im- 
 portance it would be to gain the entire favour of the 
 Due de Beauvilliers, and of his brother-in-law the 
 Due de Chevreuse, both very intimate friends, and 
 both in the highest confidence of the King and 
 Madame de Maintenon. This was his first care, and 
 he succeeded beyond his hopes, becoming the master 
 of their hearts and minds, and the director of their 
 consciences. Madame de Maintenon dined regularly 
 once a week at the house of one or other of the two 
 Dukes, fifth of a little party, composed of the two 
 sisters and the two husbands, with a bell upon the 
 table, in order to dispense with servants in waiting, 
 and to be able to talk without restraint. Fenelon was 
 at last admitted to this sanctuary, at foot of which all 
 the Court was prostrated. He was almost as success- 
 ful with Madame de Maintenon as he had been with 
 the two Dukes. His spirituality enchanted her : the 
 Court soon perceived the giant strides of the fortunate 
 Abbe, and eagerly courted him. But, desiring to be 
 
 ii 2
 
 100 FEXELOX AXD MADAME DE MAIXTEXOX. 
 
 free and entirely devoted to his great object, he kept 
 himself aloof from their flatteries made for himself 
 a shield with his modesty and his duties of preceptor 
 and thus rendered himself still more dear to the 
 persons he had captivated, and that he had so much 
 interest in retaining in that attachment. 
 
 Among these cares he forgot not his dear Madame 
 Guyon ; he had already vaunted her to the two Dues 
 and to Madame de Maintenon. He had even intro- 
 duced her to them, but as though with difficulty and 
 for a few moments, as a woman all in God, whose 
 humility and whose love of contemplation and solitude 
 kept her within the strictest limits, and whose fear, above 
 all, was that she should become known. The tone of 
 her mind pleased Madame de Maintenon extremely ; 
 her reserve, mixed with delicate flatteries, won upon 
 her. Madame de Maintenon wished to hear her talk 
 upon matters of piety ; with difficulty she consented to 
 speak. She seemed to surrender herself to the charms 
 and to the virtue of Madame de Maintenon, and 
 Madame de Maintenon fell into the nets so skilfully 
 prepared for her. 
 
 Such was the situation of Fenelon when he became 
 Archbishop of Cambrai ; increasing the admiration in 
 which he was held by taking no step to gain that great 
 benefice. He had taken care not to seek to procure 
 himself Cambrai; the least spark of ambition would 
 have destroyed all his edifice ; and, moreover, it was 
 not Cambrai that he coveted. 
 
 Little by little he appropriated to himself some 
 distinguished sheep of the small flock Madame Guyon
 
 APPOINTMENT TO CAMBRAI. 101 
 
 had gathered together. He only conducted them, 
 however, under the direction of that prophetess, and 
 everything passed with a secrecy and mystery that 
 gave additional relish to the rnanna distributed. 
 
 Cainbrai was a thunderbolt for this little flock. It 
 was the archbishopric of Paris they wished. Cambrai 
 they looked upon with disdain as a country diocese, 
 the residence in which (impossible to avoid from time 
 to time) would deprive them of their pastor. Their 
 grief was then profound at what the rest of the world 
 took for a piece of amazing luck, and the Countess of 
 Guiche was so affected as to be unable to hide her 
 tears. The new prelate had not neglected such of his 
 brethren as made the most figure : they, in turn, 
 considered it a distinction to command his regard. 
 Saint Cyr, that spot so valuable and so inaccessible, 
 was the place chosen for his consecration ; and M. de 
 Meaux, dictator then of the episcopacy and of doctrine, 
 consecrated him. The children of France were among 
 the spectators, and Madame de Maintenon was present 
 with her little court of familiars. No others were 
 invited ; the doors were closed to those who sought to 
 pay their court. 
 
 The new archbishop of Cambrai, gratified with his 
 influence over Madame de Maintenon and with the 
 advantages it had brought him, felt that unless he 
 became completely master of her, the hopes he still 
 entertained could not be satisfied. But there was a 
 rival in his way Godet, Bishop of Chartres, who was 
 much in the confidence of Madame de Maintenon, and 
 had long discourses with her at Saint Cyr. As he was,
 
 102 THE BISHOP OF ORLEANS. 
 
 however, of a very ill figure, had but little support at 
 Court, and appeared exceedingly simple, M. de Cambrai 
 believed he could easily overthrow him. To do this, 
 he determined to make use of Madame Guyon, whose 
 new spirituality had already been so highly relished by 
 Madame de Maintenon. He persuaded this latter to- 
 allow Madame Guyon to enter Saint Cyr, where they 
 could discourse together much more at their ease than 
 at the Hotel de Chevreuse or Beauvilliers. Madame 
 Guyon went accordingly to Saint Cyr two or three 
 times. Soon after, Madame de Maintenon, who relished 
 her more and more, made her sleep there, and their 
 meetings grew longer. Madame Guyon admitted that 
 she sought persons proper to become her disciples,, 
 and in a short time she formed a little flock, whose 
 maxims and language appeared very strange to all the 
 rest of the house, and, above all, to M. de Chartres. 
 That prelate was not so simple as M..de Cambrai 
 imagined. Profound theologian and scholar, pious, 
 disinterested, and of rare probity, he could be, if 
 necessary, a most skilful courtier ; but he rarely 
 exerted this power, for the favour of Madame de 
 Maintenon sufficed him of itself. As soon as he got 
 scent of this strange doctrine, he caused two ladies, 
 upon whom he could count, to be admitted to Saint 
 Cyr, as if to become disciples of Madame Guyon. 
 He gave them full instructions, and they played their 
 parts to perfection. In the first place they appeared 
 'to be ravished, and by degrees enchanted, with the 
 new doctrine. Madame Guyon, pleased with this 
 fresh conquest, took the ladies into her most intimate
 
 DISGRACE OF MADAME GUYON. 103 
 
 confidence in order to gain them entirely. They 
 communicated everything to M. de Chartres, who 
 quietly looked on, allowed things to take their course, 
 and, when he believed the right moment had arrived, 
 disclosed all he had learnt to Madame de Maintenon. 
 She was strangely surprised when she saw the extra- 
 ordinary drift of the new doctrine. Troubled and 
 uncertain, she consulted with M. de Cambrai, who, 
 not suspecting she had been so well instructed, 
 became, when he discovered it, embarrassed, and thus 
 augmented her suspicions. 
 
 Suddenly Madame Guyon was driven away from 
 St. Cyr, and prohibited from spreading her doctrine 
 elsewhere. But the admiring disciples she had made 
 still gathered round her in secret, and this becoming 
 known, she was ordered to leave Paris. She feigned 
 obedience, but in effect went no further than the 
 Faubourg St. Antoine, where, with great secrecy, she 
 continued to receive her flock. But being again 
 detected, she was sent, without further parley, to the 
 Bastille, well treated there, but allowed to see nobody, 
 not even to write. Before being arrested, however, she 
 had been put into the hands of M. de Meaux, who 
 used all his endeavours to change her sentiments. 
 Tired at last of his sermons, she feigned conviction, 
 signed a recantation of her opinions, and was set at 
 liberty. Yet, directly after, she held her secret assem- 
 blies in the Faubourg St. Antoine, and it was in con- 
 sequence of this abuse of freedom that she was 
 arrested. These adventures bring me far into the 
 year 1696, and the sequel extends into the following
 
 104 BOSSUET AND FKNELON. 
 
 year. Let jis finish this history at once, and return 
 afterwards to what happened meanwhile. 
 
 Monsieur de Cambrai, stunned but not overpowered 
 by the reverse he had sustained, and by his loss of 
 favour with Madame de Maintenon, stood firm in his 
 stirrups. After Madame Guyon's abuse of her liberty, 
 and the conferences of Issy, he bethought himself of 
 confessing to M. de Meaux, by which celebrated trick 
 he hoped to close that prelate's mouth. These cir- 
 cumstances induced M. de Meaux to take pen in hand, 
 in order to expose to the public the full account of this 
 affair, and of Madame Guyon's doctrine ; and he did 
 so in a work under the title of Instruction sur les 
 Etats d'Oraison. 
 
 While the book was yet unpublished, M. de Cambrai 
 was shown a copy. He saw at once the necessity of 
 writing another to ward off the effect of such a blow. 
 He must have had a great deal of matter already pre- 
 pared, otherwise the diligence he used would be 
 incredible. Before M. de Meaux's book was ready, 
 M. de Cambrai's, entitled Maximes des Saints, was 
 published and distributed. M. de Chevreuse, who 
 corrected the proofs, installed himself at the printer's, 
 so as to see every sheet as soon as printed. 
 
 This book, written in the strangest manner, did M. 
 de Cambrai little service. If people were offended to 
 find it supported upon no authority, they were much 
 more so with its confused and embarrassed style, its 
 * precision so restrained and so decided, its barbarous 
 terms which seemed as though taken from a foreign 
 tongue, above, all, its high-flown and far-fetched
 
 TWO RIVAL BOOKS. 105 
 
 thoughts, which took one's breath away, as in the too 
 subtile air of the middle region. Nobody, except the 
 theologians, understood it, and even they not without 
 reading it three or four times. Connoisseurs found in 
 it a pure Quietism, which, although wrapped up in fine 
 language, was clearly visible. I do not give my own 
 judgment of things so much beyond me, but repeat 
 what was said everywhere. Nothing else was talked 
 about, even by the ladies ; and a propos of this, the 
 saying of Madame de Sevigne was revived : " Make 
 religion a little more palpable ; it evaporates by dint 
 of being over-refined." 
 
 Not a word was heard in praise of the book ; every- 
 body was opposed to it, and it was the means of 
 making Madame de Maintenon more unfavourable to 
 M. de Cambrai than ever. He sent the King a copy, 
 without informing her. This completed her annoyance 
 against him. M. de Cambrai, finding his book so ill- 
 received by the Court and by the prelates, determined 
 to try and support it on the authority of Rome, a step 
 quite opposed to our manners. In the mean time M. 
 de Meaux's book appeared in two volumes octavo, well 
 written, clear, modest, and supported upon the autho- 
 rity of the Scriptures. It was received with avidity, 
 and absolutely devoured. There was not a person at 
 the Court who did not take a pleasure in reading it, so 
 that for a long time it was the common subject of 
 conversation of the Court and of the town. 
 
 These two books, so opposed in doctrine and in 
 style, made such a stir on every side that the King 
 interposed, and forced M. de Cambrai to submit his
 
 106 DISGRACE OF FENELOX. 
 
 work to an examination by a council of prelates, whom 
 he named. M. de Cambrai asked permission to go to 
 Home to defend his cause in person, but this the King 
 refused. He sent his book, therefore, to the Pope, 
 and had the annoyance to receive a dry, cold reply, 
 and to see M. de Meaux's book triumph. His good 
 fortune was in effect at an end. He remained at 
 Court some little time, but the King was soon irritated 
 against him, sent him off post-haste to Paris, and 
 from there to his diocese, whence he has never 
 returned. He left behind him a letter for one of his 
 friends, M. de Chevreuse it was generally believed, which 
 immediately after became public. It appeared like the 
 manifesto of a man who disgorges his bile and restrains 
 himself no more, because he has nothing more to hope. 
 The letter, bold and bitter in style, was besides so full 
 of ability and artifice, that it was extremely pleasant to 
 read, without finding approvers ; so true it is that a 
 wise and disdainful silence is difficult to keep under 
 reverses.
 
 DEATH OF ARCHBISHOP HARLAY. 107 
 
 CHAPTEK IX. 
 
 Death of Archbishop Harlay Scene at Conflans " The Good Langres" 
 A Scene at Marly Princesses Smoke Pipes ! Fortunes of Cavoye 
 Madlle. de Coetlogon Madame de Guise Madame de Miramion 
 Madame de Sevigne Father Seraphin An Angry Bishop Death of 
 La Bruyere Burglary by a Duke Proposed Marriage of the Due de 
 Bourgogne The Duchess de Lude A Dangerous Lady Madame d'O. 
 Arrival of the Duchesse de Bourgogne. 
 
 To return now to the date from which I started. 
 On the 6th of August, 1695, Harlay, Archbishop of 
 Paris, died of epilepsy at Conflans. He was a prelate of 
 profound knowledge and ability, very amiable, and of 
 most gallant manners. For some time past he had 
 lost favour with the King and with Madame de Main- 
 tenon, for opposing the declaration of her marriage 
 of which marriage he had been one of the three wit- 
 nesses. The clergy, who perceived his fall, and to 
 whom envy is not unfamiliar, took pleasure in reveng- 
 ing themselves upon M. de Paris, for the domination, 
 although gentle and kindly, he had exercised. Un- 
 accustomed to this decay of his power, all the graces 
 of his mind and body withered. He could find no 
 resource but to shut himself up with his dear friend 
 the Duchesse de Lesdiguieres, whom he saw every day 
 of his life, either at her own house or at Conflans,. 
 where he had laid out a delicious garden, kept so 
 strictly clean, that as the two walked, gardeners 
 followed at a distance, and effaced their footprints
 
 108 SCENE AT CONFLAXS. 
 
 with rakes. The vapours seized the Archbishop, and 
 turned themselves into slight attacks of epilepsy. He 
 felt this, but prohibited his servants to send for help, 
 when they should see him attacked ; and he was only 
 too well obeyed. The Duchesse de Lesdiguieres never 
 slept at Conflans, but she went there every afternoon, 
 and was always alone with him. On the Oth of August, 
 he passed the morning, as usual, until dinner-time ; his 
 steward came there to him, and found him in his 
 cabinet, fallen back upon a sofa ; he was dead. The 
 celebrated Jesuit-Father Gaillard preached his funeral 
 sermon, and carefully eluded pointing the moral of the 
 event. The King and Madame de Maintenon were 
 much relieved by the loss of M. de Paris. Various 
 places he had held were at once distributed. His 
 archbishopric and his nomination to the cardinalship 
 required more discussion. The King learnt the news 
 of the death of M. de Paris on the Cth. On the 8th, 
 in going as usual to his cabinet, he went straight up to 
 the Bishop of Orleans, led him to the Cardinals de 
 Bouillon and de Fursternberg, and said to them : 
 " Gentlemen, I think you will thank me for giving 
 you an associate like M. d' Orleans, to whom I give my 
 nomination to the cardinalship." At this word the 
 Bishop, who little expected such a scene, fell at the 
 King's feet and embraced his knees. He was a man 
 whose face spoke at once of the virtue and benignity 
 he possessed. In youth he was so pious, that young 
 and old were afraid to say a foul word in his presence. 
 Although very rich, he appropriated scarcely any of 
 his wealth to himself, but gave it away for good works.
 
 THE GOOD LANGRES. 109 
 
 The modesty and the simplicity with which M. d' Or- 
 leans sustained his nomination, increased the universal 
 esteem in which he was held. 
 
 The archbishopric of Paris was given to a brother of 
 the Due de Noailles the Bishop of Chalons-sur-Marne 
 M. de Noailles thus reaping the fruit of his wise 
 sacrifice to M. de Vendome, before related. M. de 
 Chalons was of singular goodness and modesty. He 
 did not wish for this preferment, and seeing from far the 
 prospect of its being given to him, hastened to declare 
 himself against the Jesuits, in the expectation that 
 Pere la Chaise, who was of them, and who was always 
 consulted upon these occasions, might oppose him. But 
 it happened, perhaps for the first time, that Madame de 
 Maintenon, who felt restrained by the Jesuits, did not 
 consult Pere la Chaise, and the preferment was made 
 without his knowledge, and without that of M. de 
 Chalons. The affront was a violent one, and the Jesuits 
 never forgave the new Archbishop : he was, however, so 
 little anxious for the office, that it was only after 
 repeated orders he could be made to accept it. 
 
 The Bishop of Langres also died about this time. 
 He was a true gentleman, much liked, and called 
 " the good Langres." There was nothing bad about 
 him, except his manners ; he was not made for a 
 bishop gambled very much, and staked high. M. 
 de Vendome and others won largely at , billiards of 
 him, two or three times. He said no word, but, on 
 returning to Langres, did nothing but practise billiards 
 in secret for six months. When next in Paris, he was 
 again asked to play, and his adversaries, who thought
 
 110 A SCENE AT MARLY. 
 
 liim as unskilful as before, expected an easy victory : 
 "but, to their astonishment, he gained almost every 
 game, won back much more than he had lost, and 
 then laughed in the faces of his companions. 
 
 I paid, about this time, my first journey to Marly, 
 and a singular scene happened there. The King at 
 dinner, setting aside his usual gravity, laughed and 
 joked very much with Madame la Duchesse, eating 
 olives with her in sport, and therebj r causing her to 
 drink more than usual which he also pretended to do. 
 Upon rising from the table the King, seeing the Prin- 
 cesse de Conti look extremely serious, said, drily, that 
 her gravity did not accommodate itself to their 
 drunkenness. The Princesse, piqued, allowed the 
 King to pass without saying anything; and then, 
 turning to Madame de Chatillon, said, in the midst of 
 the noise, whilst everybody was washing his mouth, 
 that she " would rather be grave than be a wine-sack " 
 (alluding to some bouts a little prolonged, that her 
 sister had recently had). 
 
 The saying was heard by the Duchesse de Chartres, 
 who replied, loud enough to be heard, in her slow and 
 trembling voice, that she preferred to be a "wine- 
 sack " rather than a " rag-sack " (sac a yucnilles) by 
 which she alluded to the Clermont and la Choin 
 adventure I have related before. 
 
 This remark was so cruel that it met with no reply ; 
 it spread through Marly, and thence to Paris ; and 
 Madame la Duchesse, who had the art of writing witty 
 songs, made one upon this theme. The Princesse 
 de Conti was in despair, for she had not the same
 
 PRINCESSES SMOKE PIPES ! Ill 
 
 weapon at her disposal. Monsieur tried to reconcile 
 them gave them a dinner at Meudon but they 
 returned from it as they went. 
 
 The end of the year was stormy at Marly. One 
 evening, after the King had gone to ; bed, and while 
 Monseigneur was playing in the saloon, the Duchesse 
 de Chartres and Madame la Duchesse (who were bound 
 together by their mutual aversion to the Princesse 
 de Conti) sat down to a supper in the chamber of the 
 first-named. Monseigneur, upon retiring late to his 
 own rooin, found them smoking with pipes, which they 
 had sent for from the Swiss Guards ! Knowing what 
 would happen if the smell were discovered, he made 
 them- leave off, but the smoke had betrayed them. 
 The King next day severely scolded them, at which the 
 Princesse de Conti triumphed. Nevertheless, these 
 broils multiplied, and the King at last grew so weary of 
 them that one evening he called the Princesses before 
 him, and threatened that if they did not improve he 
 would banish them all from the Court. The measure 
 had its effect ; calm and decorum returned, and sup- 
 plied the place of friendship. 
 
 There were many marriages this winter, and amongst 
 them one very strange, a marriage of love, between 
 a brother of Feuquiere's, who had never done much, 
 and the daughter of the celebrated Mignard, first 
 painter of his time. This daughter was still so 
 beautiful, that Bloin, chief valet of the King, had 
 kept her for some time, with the knowledge of every 
 one, and used his influence to make the King sign 
 the marriage-contract.
 
 112 FORTUNES OF CAVOYE. 
 
 There are in all Courts persons who, without wit 
 and without distinguished birth, without patrons, or 
 service rendered, pierce into the intimacy of the most 
 brilliant, and succeed at last, I know not how, in 
 forcing the world to look upon them as somebody. 
 Such a person was Cavoye. Rising from nothing, he 
 became Grand Marechal des Logis in the royal house- 
 hold : he arrived at that office by a perfect romance. 
 He was one of the best-made men in France, and was 
 much in favour with the ladies. He first appeared 
 at the Court at a time when much duelling was taking 
 place, in spite of the edicts. Cavoye, brave and skilful, 
 acquired so much reputation in this particular, that 
 the name of "Brave Cavoye" has stuck to him ever 
 since. An ugly but very good creature, Mademoiselle 
 de Coetlogon, one of the Queen's waiting-women, fell 
 in love with him, even to madness. She made all the 
 advances ; but Cavoye treated her so cruelly, nay, some- 
 times so brutally, that (wonderful to say) everybody 
 pitied her, and the King at last interfered, and com- 
 manded him to be more humane. Cavoye went to the 
 army; the poor Coetlogon was in tears until his return. 
 In the winter, for being second in a duel, he was sent to 
 the Bastille. Then the grief of Coetlogon knew no 
 bounds : she threw aside all ornaments, and clad herself 
 as meanly as possible ; she begged the King to grant 
 Cavoye his liberty, and, upon the King's refusing, 
 quarrelled with him violent!}', and when in return he 
 laughed at her, became so furious, that she would have 
 used her nails, had he not been too wise to expose him- 
 self to them. Then she refused to attend to her duties,
 
 MADLLE. DE COETLOGON. 113 
 
 would not serve the King, saying, that he did not 
 deserve it, and grew so yellow and ill, that at last 
 she was allowed to visit her lover at the Bastille. 
 When he was liberated, her joy was extreme, she 
 decked herself out anon, but it was with difficulty that 
 she consented to be reconciled to the King. 
 
 Cavoye had many times been promised an appoint- 
 ment, but had never received one such as he wished. 
 The office of Grand Marechal des Logis had just 
 become vacant : the King offered it to Cavoye, but 
 on condition that he should marry Mademoiselle Coet- 
 logon. Cavoye sniffed a little longer, but was obliged 
 to submit to this condition at last. They were married, 
 and she has still the same admiration for him, and it is 
 sometimes fine fun to see the caresses she gives him 
 before all the world, and the constrained gravity with 
 which he receives them. The history of Cavoye would 
 fill a volume, but this I have selected suffices for its 
 singularity, which assuredly is without example. 
 
 About this time the King of England thought mat- 
 ters were ripe for an attempt to reinstate himself upon 
 the throne. The Duke of Berwick had been secretly 
 into England, where he narrowly escaped being ar- 
 rested, and upon his report these hopes were built. 
 Great preparations were made, but they came to no- 
 thing, as was always the case with the projects of this 
 unhappy prince. 
 
 Madame de Guise died at this time. Her father 
 was the brother of Louis XIII. , and she, humpbacked 
 and deformed to excess, had married the last Due de 
 Guise, rather than not marry at all. During all their
 
 114 MADAME DE MIRAMIOX. 
 
 lives, she compelled him to pay her all the deference 
 due to her rank. At table he stood while she un- 
 folded her napkin and seated herself, and did not 
 sit until she told him to do so, and then at the end 
 of the table. This form was observed every day of 
 their lives. She was equally severe in such matters 
 of etiquette with all the rest of the world. She would 
 keep her diocesan, the Bishop of Seez, standing for 
 entire hours, while she was seated in her arm-chair, 
 and never once offered him a seat even in the corner. 
 She was in other things an entirely good and sensible 
 woman. Not until after her death was it discovered 
 that she had been afflicted for a long time with a 
 cancer, which appeared as though about to burst. 
 God spared her this pain. 
 
 We lost, in the month of March, Madame de Mira- 
 mion, aged sixty- six. She was a bourgeoise, married, 
 and in the same year became a widow, very rich, 
 young, and beautiful. Bussy Rabutin, so known by 
 his " Histoire Amoureuse des Gaules," and by the 
 profound disgrace it drew upon him, and still more 
 by the vanity of his mind and the baseness of his 
 heart, wished absolutely to marry her, and actually 
 carried her off to a chateau. Upon arriving at the 
 place, she pronounced before everybody assembled there 
 a vow of chastity, and then dared Bussy to do his worst. 
 He, strangely discomfited by this action, at once set her 
 at liberty, and tried to accommodate the affair. From 
 that moment she devoted herself entirely to works of 
 piety, and was much esteemed by the King. She was 
 the first woman of her condition who wrote above her door,
 
 MADAME DE SE>IGN FATHER SERAPHIN. 115 
 
 " Hotel de Nesmond." Everybody cried out, and was 
 scandalised, but the writing remained, and became the 
 example and the father of those of all kinds which 
 little by little have inundated Paris. 
 
 Madame de Sevigne, so amiable and of such excellent 
 company, died some time after at Grignan, at the house 
 of her daughter, her idol, but who merited little to be 
 so. I was very intimate with the young Marquis de 
 Grignan, her grandson. This woman, by her natural 
 graces, the sweetness of her wit, communicated these 
 qualities to those who had them not ; she was besides 
 extremely good, and knew thoroughly many things 
 without ever wishing to appear as though she knew 
 anything. 
 
 Father Seraphm preached during Lent this year at 
 the Court. His sermons, in which he often repeated 
 twice running the same phrase, were much in vogue. 
 It was from him that came the saying "Without God 
 there is no wit." The King was much pleased with 
 him, and reproached M. de Vendome and M. de La 
 Rochefoucauld because they never went to hear his 
 sermons. M. de Vendome replied off-hand, that he 
 did not care to go to hear a man who said whatever he 
 pleased without allowing anj'body to reply to him, and 
 made the King smile by this sally. But M. de La 
 Rochefoucauld treated the matter in another manner : 
 he said that he could not induce himself to go like the 
 merest hanger-on about the Court, and beg a seat of 
 the officer who distributed them, and then betake him- 
 self early to church in order to have a good one, and 
 wait about in order to put himself where it might
 
 116 AN AXGRY BISHOP. 
 
 please that officer to place him. Whereupon the King 
 immediately gave him a fourth seat behind him, by the 
 side of the Grand Chamberlain, so that everywhere he 
 is thus placed. M. d'Orleans had been in the habit 
 of seating himself there (although his right place was 
 on the prie-Dieu], and little by little had accustomed 
 himself to consider it as his proper place. "When he 
 found himself driven away, he made a great ado, and, 
 not daring to complain to the King, quarrelled with 
 M.de La Rochefoucauld, who, until then, had been one of 
 his particular friends. The affair soon made a great stir ; 
 the friends of both parties mixed themselves up in 
 it. The King tried in vain to make M. d'Orleans 
 listen to reason ; the prelate was inflexible, and when 
 he found he could gain nothing by clamour and com- 
 plaint, he retired in high dudgeon into his diocese : 
 he remained there some time, and upon his return 
 resumed his complaints with more determination than 
 ever ; he fell at the feet of the King, protesting that he 
 would rather die than see his office degraded. M. de 
 La Rochefoucauld entreated the King to be allowed to 
 surrender the seat in favour of M. d'Orleans. But the 
 King would not change his decision : he said that if 
 the matter were to be decided between M. d'Orleans 
 and a lackey, he would give the seat to the lackey 
 rather than to M. d'Orleans. Upon this the prelate 
 returned to his diocese, which he would have been 
 wiser never to have quitted in order to obtain a place 
 which did not belong to him. 
 
 As the King really esteemed M. d'Orleans, he de- 
 termined to appease his anger ; and to put an end to this
 
 BURGLARY BY A DUKE. 117 
 
 dispute he gave therefore the bishopric of Metz to the 
 nephew of M. d' Orleans ; and by this means a recon- 
 ciliation was established. M. d'Orleans and M. de La 
 Rochefoucauld joined hands again, and the King 
 looked on delighted. 
 
 The public lost soon after a man illustrious by his 
 genius, by his style, and by his knowledge of men, I 
 mean La Bruyere, who died of apoplexy at Versailles, 
 after having surpassed Theophrastus in his own 
 manner, and after painting, in the new Characters, the 
 men of our days in a manner inimitable. He was 
 besides a very honest man, of excellent breeding, 
 simple, very disinterested, and without anything of the 
 pedant. I had sufficiently known him to regret his 
 death, and the works that might have been hoped 
 from him. 
 
 The command of the armies was distributed in the 
 same manner as before, with the exception that 
 M. de Choiseul had the army of the Rhine in place of 
 M. de Lorges. Every one set out to take the field. 
 The Due de La Feuillade in passing by Metz, to join 
 the army in Germany, called upon his uncle, who was 
 very rich and in his second childhood. La Feuillade 
 thought fit to make sure of his uncle's money before- 
 hand, demanded the key of the cabinet and of the coffers, 
 broke them open upon being refused by the servants, 
 and took away thirty thousand crowns in gold, and 
 many jewels, leaving untouched the silver. The King, 
 who for a long time had been much discontented with 
 La Feuillade for his debauches and his negligence, 
 spoke very strongly and very openly upon this strange
 
 118 PROPOSED MARRIAGE OF DUG DE BOURGOGXE. 
 
 forestalling of inheritance. It was only with great 
 difficulty he could be persuaded not to strip La Feuil- 
 lade of his rank. 
 
 Our campaign was undistinguished by any striking 
 event. From June to September of this year (1696), we 
 did little but subsist and observe, after which we re- 
 crossed the Rhine at Philipsburg, where our rear 
 guard was slightly inconvenienced by the enemy. In 
 Italy there was more movement. The King sought to 
 bring about peace by dividing the forces of his enemies, 
 and secretly entered into a treaty with Savoy. The 
 conditions were, that every place belonging to Savoy 
 which had been taken by our troops should be restored, 
 and that a marriage should take place between Mon- 
 seigneur the Due de Bourgogne and the daughter of 
 the Duke of Savoy, when she became twelve years of 
 age. In the mean time she was to be sent to the Court 
 of France, and preparations were.at once made there to 
 provide her with a suitable estabh'shment. 
 
 The King was ill with an anthrax in the throat. 
 The eyes of all Europe were turned towards him, for 
 his malady was not without danger ; nevertheless in 
 his bed he affected to attend to affairs as usual, and he 
 arranged there with Madame de Maintenon, who 
 scarcely ever quitted his side, the household of the 
 Savoy Princess. The persons selected for the offices 
 in that household were either entirely devoted to 
 Madame de Maintenon, or possessed of so little wit 
 that she had nothing to fear from them. A selection 
 which excited much envy and great surprise was that 
 of the Duchesse de Lude to be lady of honour. The
 
 THE DUCHESSE DE LUDE. 119 
 
 day before she was appointed, Monsieur had mentioned 
 her name in sport to the King. " Yes," said the King, 
 " she would be the best woman in the world to teach 
 the Princess to put rouge and patches on her cheek ;" 
 and then, being more devout than usual, he said other 
 things as bitter and marking strong aversion on his 
 part to the Duchesse. In fact, she was no favourite of 
 his nor of Madame de Maintenon ; and this was so well 
 understood that the surprise of Monsieur and of every- 
 body else was great, upon finding, the day after this 
 discourse, that she had been appointed to the place. 
 
 The cause of this was soon learnt. The Duchesse de 
 Lude coveted much to be made lady of honour to the 
 Princess, but knew she had but little chance, so many 
 others more in favour than herself being in the field. 
 Madame de Maintenon had an old servant named Nanon, 
 who had been with her from the time of her early days 
 of misery, and who had such influence with her, that 
 this servant was made much of by everybody at Court, 
 even by the ministers and the daughters of the King. 
 The Duchesse de Lude had also an old servant who 
 was on good terms with the other. The affair therefore 
 was not difficult. The Duchesse de Lude sent 
 twenty thousand crowns to Nanon, and on the very 
 evening of the day on which the King had spoken to 
 Monsieur, she had the place. Thus it is ! A Nanon 
 sells the most important and the most brilliant offices, 
 and a Duchesse of high birth is silly enough to buy her- 
 self into servitude ! 
 
 This appointment excited much envy. The Marechale 
 de Rochefort, who had expected to be named, made a
 
 120 A DANGEROUS LADY. 
 
 great ado. Madame de Maintenon, who despised her, 
 \vas piqued, and said that she should have had it hut 
 for the conduct of her daughter. This was a mere 
 artifice ; hut the daughter was, in truth, no sample of 
 purity. She had acted in such a manner with Blansac 
 that he was sent for from the army to marry her, and 
 on the very night of their wedding she gave birth to a 
 daughter. She was full of wit, vivacity, intrigue, and 
 sweetness ; yet most wicked, false, and artificial ; and 
 all this with a simplicity of manner that imposed 
 even upon those who knew her best. More than gallant 
 while her face lasted, she afterwards was easier of 
 access, and at last ruined herself for the meanest valets. 
 Yet, notwithstanding her vices, she was the prettiest 
 flower of the Court bunch and had her chamber always 
 full of the best company : she was also much sought 
 after by the three daughters of the King. Driven away 
 from the Court she was after much supplication recalled, 
 and pleased the King so much that Madame de Main- 
 tenon, in fear of her, sent her away again. But to go 
 back again to the household of the Princess of Savoy. 
 
 Dangeau was made chevalier d'honneur. He owed 
 his success to his good looks, to the court he paid 
 to the King's mistresses, to his skilfulness at play, and to 
 a lucky stroke of fortune. The King had oftentimes 
 been importuned to give him a lodging, and one day,, 
 joking with him upon his fancy of versifying, proposed 
 to him some very hard rhymes, and promised him a 
 lodging if he filled them up upon the spot. Dangeau 
 accepted, thought but for a moment, performed the 
 task, and thus gained his lodging. He was an old
 
 MADAME D'O. 121 
 
 friend of Madame de Maintenon, and it was to her 
 he was indebted for his post of chevalier d'honneur 
 in the new household. 
 
 Madame d'O was appointed lady of the palace. 
 Her father, named Guilleragues, a gluttonous gascon, 
 had been one of the intimate friends of Madame Scar- 
 ron, who, as Madame de Maintenon, did not forget her 
 old acquaintance, but procured him the embassy to 
 Constantinople. Dying there, he left an only daugh- 
 ter, who, on the voyage home to France, gained the 
 heart of Villers, lieutenant of the vessel, and be- 
 came his wife in Asia-Minor, near the ruins of Troy. 
 Villers claimed to be of the house of d'O; hence the 
 name his wife bore. 
 
 Established at the Court, the newly-married couple 
 quickly worked themselves into the favour of Madame 
 de Maintenon, both being very clever in intrigue. M. 
 d'O was made governor of the Comte de Toulouse, 
 and soon gained his entire confidence. Madame d'O, 
 too, infinitely pleased the young Count, just then en- 
 tering upon manhood, by her gallantry, her wit, and 
 the facilities she allowed him. Both, in consequence, 
 grew in great esteem with the King. Had they been 
 attendants upon Princes of the blood, he would as- 
 suredly have slighted them. But he always showed 
 great indulgence to those who served his illegitimate 
 children. Hence the appointment of Madame d'O to 
 be lady of the palace. 
 
 The household of the Princess of Savoy being com- 
 pleted, the members of it were sent to the Pont Beauvo- 
 sin to meet their young mistress. She arrived early on
 
 122 ARRIVAL OF THE DUCHESSE DE BOURGOGNE. 
 
 the 16th of October, slept at the Pont Beauvosin that 
 night, and on the morrow parted with her Italian attend- 
 ants without shedding a single tear. On the 4th of No- 
 vember she arrived at Montargis, and was received by 
 the King, Monseigneur, and Monsieur. The King 
 handed her down from her coach, and conducted her 
 to the apartment he had prepared for her. Her re- 
 spectful and flattering manners pleased him highly. 
 Her cajoleries, too, soon bewitched Madame de Main- 
 tenon, whom she never addressed except as " Aunt ; " 
 whom she treated with a respect, and yet with a free- 
 dom, that ravished everybody. She became the doll 
 of Madame de Maintenon and the King, pleased them 
 infinitely by her insinuating spirit, and took greater 
 liberties with them than the children of the King had 
 ever dared to attempt.* 
 
 * As the Duchesse de Bourgogne makes a great figure in these Memoirs, 
 it will be well to give a description of her personal appearance from the pen 
 of Louis XIV. himself. Writing to Madame de Maintenon, he says, "She 
 is most graceful and has the handsomest figure I have ever seen ; dressed 
 to be the model of a painter, with lively and beautiful eyes, eyelashes 
 black and admirable, a clear complexion, white and red ; the most 
 beautiful flaxen hair that can be seen, and very plentiful. She is thin, as 
 is proper at her age ; with a vermilion mouth ; full lips ; white teeth, 
 long and ill-arranged ; hands well made, but of the colour of her age."
 
 MY RETURN TO FONTAINEBLEAU. 123 
 
 CHAPTEK X. 
 
 My Return to Fontainebleau A Calumny at Court Portrait of M. de la 
 Trappe A False Painter Fast Living at the "Desert" Comte 
 d'Auvergne Perfidy of Harlay M. de Monaco Madame Panache 
 The Italian Actors and " the False Prude." 
 
 MEANWHILE our campaign upon the Rhine pro- 
 ceeded, and the enemy, having had all their grand 
 projects of victory defeated hy the firmness and the 
 capacity of the Marechal de Choiseul, retired into 
 winter-quarters, and we prepared to do the same. The 
 month of October was almost over when Madame de 
 Saint Simon lost M. Fremont, father of the Marechal 
 de Lorges. She had happily given birth to a daughter 
 on the 8th September. I was desirous accordingly to 
 go to Paris, and having obtained permission from the 
 Marechal de Choiseul, who had treated me throughout 
 the campaign with much politeness and attention, I 
 set out. Upon arriving at Paris I found the Court at 
 Fontainebleau. I had arrived from the army a little 
 before the rest, and did not wish that the King should 
 know it without seeing me, lest he might think I had 
 returned in secret. I hastened at once therefore to Fon- 
 tainebleau, where the King received me with his usual 
 goodness, saying, nevertheless, that I had returned a 
 little too early, but that it was of no consequence.
 
 124 A CALUMNY AT COURT. 
 
 I had not long left his presence when I learned a report 
 that made my face bum again. It "was affirmed that when 
 the King remarked upon nry arriving a little early, I had 
 replied that I preferred arriving at once to see him, 
 as my sole mistress, than to remain some days in Paris, 
 as did the other young men with their mistresses. 
 I went at once to the King, who had a numerous com- 
 pany around him; and I openly denied what had been 
 reported, offering a reward for the discovery of the 
 knave who had thus calumniated me, in order that I 
 might give him a sound thrashing. All day I sought 
 to discover the scoundrel. My speech to the King and 
 my choler were the topic of the day, and I was blamed 
 for having spoken so loudly and in such terms. But of 
 two evils I had chosen the least, a reprimand from the 
 King, or a few days in the Bastille ; and I had avoided 
 the greatest, which was to allow myself to be believed 
 an infamous libeller of our young men, in order to 
 basely and miserably curry favour at the Court. The 
 course I took succeeded. The King said nothing of 
 the matter, and I went upon a little journey I wished 
 particularly to take, for reasons I will now relate. 
 
 I had, as I have already mentioned, conceived a 
 strong attachment and admiration for M. de La Trappe. 
 I wished to secure a portrait of him, but such was his 
 modesty and humility that I feared to ask him to allow 
 himself to be painted. I went therefore to Eigault, 
 then the first portrait-painter in Europe. In con- 
 sideration of a sum of a thousand crowns, and all his 
 expenses paid, he agreed to accompany me to La 
 Trappe, and to make a portrait of him from mernOfy.
 
 PORTRAIT OF M. DE LA TRAPPE. 125 
 
 The whole affair was to be kept a profound secret, and 
 only one copy of the picture was to be made, and that 
 for the artist himself. 
 
 My plan being fully arranged, I and Eigault set out. 
 As soon as we arrived at our journey's end, I sought 
 M. de La Trappe, and begged to be allowed to introduce 
 to him a friend of mine, an officer, who much wished to 
 see him : I added, that my friend was a stammerer, and 
 that therefore he would be importuned merely with 
 looks and not words. M. de La Trappe smiled with 
 goodness, thought the officer curious about little, and 
 consented to see him. The interview took place. 
 Eigault excusing himself on the ground of his infir- 
 mity, did little during three -quarters of an hour but 
 keep his eyes upon M. de La Trappe, and at the end 
 went into a room where materials were already pro- 
 vided for him, and covered his canvas with the images 
 and the ideas he had filled himself with. On the 
 morrow the same thing was repeated, although M. 
 de La Trappe, thinking that a man whom he knew 
 not, and who could take no part in conversation, 
 had sufficiently seen him, agreed to the interview 
 only out of complaisance to me. Another sitting 
 was needed in order to finish the work ; but it 
 was with great difficulty M. de La Trappe could be 
 persuaded to consent to it. When the third and last 
 interview was at an end, M. de La Trappe testified to 
 me his surprise at having been so much and so long 
 looked at by a species of mute. I made the best 
 excuses I could, and hastened to turn the conversation. 
 
 The portrait was at length finished, and was a most
 
 126 A FALSE PAINTER. 
 
 perfect likeness of my venerable friend. Rigault 
 admitted to me that he had worked so hard to produce 
 it from memory, that for several months afterwards he 
 had been unable to do anything to his other portraits. 
 Notwithstanding the thousand crowns I had paid him, 
 he broke the engagement he had made by showing the 
 portrait before giving it up to me. Then, solicited 
 for copies, he made several, gaming thereby, according 
 to his own admission, more than twenty-five thousand 
 francs, and thus gave publicity to the affair. 
 
 I was very much annoj-ed at this, and with the noise 
 it made in the world ; and I wrote to M. de La Trappe, 
 relating the deception I had practised upon him, and 
 sued for pardon. He was pained to excess, hurt, and 
 afflicted ; nevertheless he showed no anger. He wrote 
 in return to me, and said, I was not ignorant that a 
 Roman Emperor had said " I love treason but not 
 traitors ; " but that, as for himself, he felt on the 
 contrary that he loved the traitor but could only hate 
 liis treason. I made presents of three copies of the 
 picture to the monastery of La Trappe. On the back 
 of the original* I described the circumstance under 
 which the portrait had been taken, in order to show 
 that M. de La Trappe had not consented to it, and I 
 pointed out that for some years he had been unable to 
 use his right hand, to acknowledge thus the error which 
 had been made in representing him as writing. 
 
 The King, about this time, set on foot negotiations 
 
 * This portrait still exists ; but the inscription on the back has been 
 destroyed by the ignorance of certain picture-restorers. See The Louvre, or 
 Biography of a Museum .
 
 FAST LIVING AT THE "DESERT." 127 
 
 for peace in Holland, sending there two plenipoten- 
 tiaries, Courtin and Harlay, and acknowledging one 
 of his agents, Caillieres, who had been for some little 
 time secretly in that country. 
 
 The year finished with the disgrace of Madame de 
 Saint Geran. She was on the best of terms with the 
 Princesses, and as much a lover of good cheer as 
 Madame de Chartres and Madame la Duchesse. This 
 latter had in the park of Versailles a little house that 
 she called the " Desert." There she had received 
 very doubtful company, giving such gay repasts that 
 the King, informed of her doings, was angry, and 
 forbade her to continue these parties or to receive 
 certain guests. Madame de Saint Geran was then 
 in the first year of her mourning, so that the King 
 did not think it necessary to include her among the 
 interdicted ; but he intimated that he did not approve 
 of her. In spite of this, Madame la Duchesse invited 
 her to an early supper at the Desert a short time after, 
 and the meal was prolonged so far into the night, and 
 with so much gaiety, that it came to the ears of the 
 King. He was in great anger, and learning that 
 Madame de Saint Geran had been of the party, 
 sentenced her to be banished twenty leagues from 
 the Court. Like a clever woman, she retired into a 
 convent at Eouen, saying that as she had been un- 
 fortunate enough to displease the King, a convent was 
 the only place for her ; and this was much approved. 
 
 At the commencement of the next year (1097) the 
 eldest son of the Comte d'Auvergne completed his 
 dishonour by a duel he fought with the Chevalier de
 
 128 PERFIDY OF HARLAY. 
 
 Caylus, on account of a tavern broil, and a dispute 
 about some wenches. Caylus, who had fought well, 
 fled from the kingdom ; the other, who had used his 
 sword like a poltroon, and had run away dismayed into 
 the streets, was disinherited by his father, sent out of 
 the country, and returned no more. He was in every 
 respect a. wretch, who, on account of his disgraceful 
 adventures, was forced to allow himself to be disin- 
 herited and to take the cross of Malta ; he was hanged 
 in effigy at the Greve, to the great regret of his family, 
 not on account of the sentence, but because, in spite 
 of every entreaty, he had been proceeded against like 
 the most obscure gentleman. The exile of Caylus 
 afterwards made his fortune. 
 
 We had another instance, about this time, of the 
 perfidy of Harlay. He had been entrusted with a 
 valuable deposit by Ruvigny, a Huguenot officer, who, 
 quitting France, had entered the service of the Prince 
 of Orange, and who was, with the exception of Marshal 
 Schomberg, the only Huguenot to whom the King 
 offered the permission of remaining at Court with full 
 liberty to practise his religion in secret. This, Ruvigny, 
 like Marshal Schomberg, refused. He was, neverthe- 
 less, allowed to retain the property he possessed in 
 France ; but after his death his son not showing him- 
 self at all grateful for this favour, the King at last con- 
 fiscated the property, and publicly testified his anger. 
 This was the moment that Harlay seized to tell the 
 King of the deposit he had. As a recompense the King 
 gave it to him as confiscated, and this hypocrite of 
 justice, of virtue, of disinterestedness, and of rigorism
 
 M. DE MONACO. 129 
 
 was not ashamed to appropriate it to himself, and to 
 close his ears and his eyes to the noise this perfidy 
 excited. 
 
 M. de Monaco, who had obtained for himself the 
 title of foreign prince by the marriage of his son with 
 the Duchesse de Valentinois, daughter of M. le Grand, 
 and who enjoyed, as it were, the sovereignty of a 
 rock, beyond whose narrow limits anybody might spit, 
 so to speak, whilst standing in the middle, soon found, 
 and his son still more so, that they had bought the 
 title very dear. The Duchesse was charming, gallant, 
 and was spoiled by the homage of the Court, in a 
 house open night and day, and to which her beauty 
 attracted all that was young and brilliant. Her hus- 
 band, with much intelligence, was diffident ; his face 
 and figure had acquired for him the name of Goliath ; he 
 suffered for a long time the haughtiness and the disdain 
 of his wife and her family. At last he and his father 
 grew tired and took away Madame de Valentinois to 
 Monaco. She grieved, and her parents also, as though 
 she had been carried off to the Indies. After two years 
 of absence and repentance, she promised marvels, and 
 was allowed to return to Paris. I know not who coun- 
 selled her, but, without changing her conduct, she 
 thought only how to prevent a return to Monaco ; and 
 to insure herself against this, she accused her father- 
 in-law of having made vile proposals to her, and of 
 attempting to take her by force. This charge made a 
 most scandalous uproar, but was believed by nobody. 
 M. de Monaco was no longer young ; he was a very 
 honest man, and had always passed for such ; besides,
 
 130 MADAME PANACHE. 
 
 he was almost blind in both eyes, and had a huge 
 pointed belly, which absolutely excited fear, it jutted 
 /r^out so far! 
 
 After some time, as Madame de Yalentinois still 
 continued to swim in the pleasures of the Court under 
 the shelter of her family, her husband re-demanded 
 her ; and though he was laughed at at first, she was at 
 last given up to him. 
 
 A marriage took place at this time between the son of 
 Pontchartrain and the daughter of the Comte de Roye. 
 The Conite de Roye w r as a Huguenot, and, at the revo- 
 cation of the edict of Nantes, had taken refuge, with 
 his wife, in Denmark, where he had been made grand 
 marshal and commander of all the troops. One day, as 
 the Comte de Roye was dining with his wife and daughter 
 at the King's table, the Comtesse de Roye asked her 
 daughter if she did not think the Queen of Denmark and 
 Madame Panache resembled each other like two drops 
 of water ? Although she spoke in French and in a 
 low tone, the Queen both heard and understood her, 
 and inquired at once who was Madame Panache. The 
 Comtesse in her surprise replied, that she was a very 
 amiable woman at the French Court. The Queen, 
 who had noticed the surprise of the Comtesse, was not 
 satisfied with this reply. She WTote to the Danish 
 minister at Paris, desiring to be informed of every 
 particular respecting Madame Panache, her face, her 
 age, her condition, and upon what footing she was at 
 the French Court. The minister, all astonished that the 
 Queen should have heard of Madame Panache, wrote 
 word that she w r as a little and very old creature, with
 
 COURTLY AMUSEMENTS. 131 
 
 lips and eyes so disfigured that they were painful to 
 look upon ; a species of beggar who had obtained a 
 footing at Court from being half-witted, who was now 
 at the supper of the King, now at the dinner of Mon- 
 seigneur, or at other places, where everybody amused 
 themselves by tormenting her. She in turn abused 
 the company at these parties, in order to cause diver- 
 sion, but sometimes rated them very seriously and 
 with strong words, which delighted still more those 
 princes and princesses, who emptied into her pockets 
 meat and ragouts, the sauces of which ran all down 
 her petticoats : at these parties some gave her a pistole 
 or a crown, and others a fillip or a smack in the face, 
 which put her in fury, because with her bleared eyes 
 not being able to see to the end of her nose, she could 
 not tell who had struck her ; she was, in a word, the 
 pastime of the Court ! 
 
 Upon learning this, the Queen of Denmark was so 
 piqued, that she could no longer suffer the Comtesse 
 de Roye near her ; she complained to the King : he 
 was much offended that foreigners, whom he had 
 loaded with favour, should so repay him. The Comte 
 de Koye was unable to stand up against the storm, 
 and withdrew to England, where he died a few years 
 after. 
 
 The King at this time drove away the company of 
 Italian actors, and would not permit another in its 
 place. So long as the Italians had simply allowed 
 their stage to overflow with filth or impiety they only 
 caused laughter ; but they set about playing a piece 
 called " The False Prude," in which Madame de 
 
 K 2
 
 132 THE FALSE PEUDE. 
 
 Maintenon was easily recognised. Everybody ran to 
 see the piece ; but after three or four representations, 
 given consecutively on account of the gain it brought, 
 the Italians received orders to close their theatre and 
 to quit the realm in a month. This affair made great 
 noise ; and if the comedians lost an establishment by 
 their boldness and folly, they who drove them away 
 gained nothing such was the license with which this 
 ridiculous event was spoken of !
 
 A SCIENTIFIC RETREAT. 133 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A Scientific Retreat The Peace of Eys wick Prince of Conti King of 
 Poland His Voyage and Reception King of England acknowledged 
 Due de Conde in Burgundy Strange Death of Santeuil Duties of 
 the Prince of Darmstadt in Spain Madame de Maintenon's Brother 
 Extravagant Dresses Marriage of the Due de Bourgogne The 
 Bedding of the Princesse Grand Balls A Scandalous Bird. 
 
 THE disposition of the armies was the same this 
 year as last, except that the Princes did not serve. 
 Towards the end of May I joined the army of the 
 Rhine, under the Marechal de Choiseul, as hefore. 
 "We made some skilful manoeuvres, but did little in the 
 way of fighting. For sixteen days we encamped at 
 Nieder-buhl, where we obtained a good supply of 
 forage. At the end of that time the Marechal de 
 Choiseul determined to change his position. Our 
 army was so placed, that the enemy could see almost 
 all of it quite distinctly; yet, nevertheless, we suc- 
 ceeded in decamping so quickly, that we disappeared 
 from under their very eyes in open daylight, and in a 
 moment as it were. Such of the Imperial Generals as 
 were out riding ran from all parts to the banks of the 
 Murg, to see our retreat, but it was so promptly 
 executed that there was no time for them to attempt to 
 hinder us. When the Prince of Baden was told of our 
 departure he could not credit it. He had seen us so 
 lately, quietly resting in our position, that it seemed
 
 134 PEACE OF BYSWICK. 
 
 impossible to him we had left it in such a short space 
 of time. When his own eyes assured him of the fact, 
 he was filled with such astonishment and admiration, 
 that he asked those around him if they had ever seen 
 such a retreat, adding, that he could not have believed, 
 until then, that an army so numerous and so con- 
 siderable should have been able to disappear thus in 
 an instant. 
 
 This honourable and bold retreat was attended by a 
 sad accident. One of our officers, named Blansac, 
 while leading a column of infantry through the woods, 
 was overtaken by night. A small party of his men 
 heard some cavalry near them. The cavalry belonged 
 to the enemy, and had lost their way. Instead of 
 replying when challenged, they said to each other in 
 German, "Let us run for it." Nothing more was 
 wanting to draw upon them a discharge from the small 
 body of our men, by whom they had been heard. To 
 this they replied with their pistols. Immediately, and 
 without orders, the whole column of infantry fired in 
 that direction, and, before Blansac could inquire the 
 cause, fired again. Fortunately he was not wounded ; 
 but five unhappy captains were killed, and some 
 subalterns wounded. 
 
 Our campaign was brought to an end by the peace 
 of Eyswick. The first news of that event arrived at 
 Fontainebleau on the 22nd of September. Celi, son of 
 Harlay, had been despatched with the intelligence ; but 
 he did not arrive until five o'clock in the morning of 
 the 26th of September. He had amused himself by 
 the way with a young girl who had struck his fancy,
 
 PRINCE DE CONTI KING OF POLAND. 135 
 
 and with some wine that he equally relished. He had 
 committed all the absurdities and impertinences which 
 might be expected of a debauched, hair-brained young 
 fellow, completely spoiled by his father, and lie 
 crowned all by this fine delay. 
 
 A little time before the signing of peace, the Prince 
 de Conti, having been elected King of Poland, set out 
 to take possession of his throne. The King, ravished 
 with joy to see himself delivered from a Prince whom 
 he disliked, could not hide his satisfaction his 
 eagerness to get rid of a Prince whose only faults 
 were that he had no bastard blood in his veins, and 
 that he was so much liked by ajl the nation that they 
 wished him at the head of the army, and murmured at 
 the little favour he received, as compared with that 
 showered down upon the illegitimate children. 
 
 The King made all haste to treat the Prince to royal 
 honours. After an interview in the Cabinet of Madame 
 de Maintenon, he presented him to a number of ladies, 
 saying, " I bring you a king." The Prince was all 
 along doubtful of the validity of his election, and 
 begged that the Princesse might not be treated as a 
 queen, until he should have been crowned. He 
 received two millions in cash from the King, and 'other 
 assistances. Samuel Bernard undertook to make the 
 necessary payments in Poland. The Prince started by 
 way of Dunkerque, and went to that place at such speed 
 that an ill-closed chest opened, and two thousand louis 
 were scattered on the road, a portion only of which 
 -was brought back to the Hotel Conti. The celebrated 
 Jean Bart pledged himself to take him safely, despite
 
 136 VOYAGE TO POLAND. 
 
 the enemy's fleet; and kept his word. The convoy 
 was of five frigates. The Chevalier de Sillery, before 
 starting, married Mdlle. Bigot, rich and witty, with 
 whom he had been living for some time. Meanwhile 
 the best news arrived from our ambassador, the 
 Abbe de Polignac, to the King ; but all answers were 
 intercepted at Dantzic by the retired Queen of Poland, 
 who sent on only the envelopes ! However, the Prince 
 de Conti passed up the Sound; and the King and 
 Queen of Denmark watched them from the windows 
 of the Chateau de Cronenbourg. Jean Bart, against 
 custom, ordered a salute to be fired. It was returned ; 
 and as some light vessels passing near the frigates said 
 that the King and Queen were looking on, the Prince 
 ordered another salvo. 
 
 There was, however, another claimant to the throne 
 of Poland ; I mean the Elector of Saxony, who had 
 also been elected, and who had many partisans ; so 
 many, indeed, that when the Prince de Conti arrived 
 at Dantzic, he found himself almost entirely unsup- 
 ported. The people even refused provision to his 
 frigates. However, the Prince's partisans at length 
 arrived to salute him. The Bishop of Plosko gave him 
 a grand repast, near the Abbey of Oliva. Marege, a 
 Gascon gentleman of the Prince's suite, was present, 
 but had been ill. There was drinking in the Polish 
 fashion, and he tried to be let off. The Prince pleaded 
 for him ; but these Poles, who, in order to make them- 
 selves understood, spoke Latin and very bad Latin 
 indeed would not accept such an excuse, and forcing 
 him to drink, howled furiously Bibat et moriatur !
 
 KING OF ENGLAND ACKNOWLEDGED. 137 
 
 Marege, who was very jocular and yet very choleric, 
 used to tell this story in the same spirit, and made 
 every one who heard it laugh. 
 
 However, the party of the Prince de Conti made no 
 way, and at length he was fain to make his way back 
 to France with all speed. The King received him very 
 graciously, although at heart exceeding sorry to see him 
 again. A short time after, the Elector of Saxony 
 mounted the throne of Poland without opposition, and 
 was publicly recognised by the King, towards the 
 commencement of August. 
 
 By the above-mentioned peace of Ryswick, the 
 King acknowledged the Prince of Orange as King of 
 England. It was, however, a bitter draught for him to 
 swallow, and for these reasons. Some years before, the 
 King had offered his illegitimate daughter, the Prin- 
 cesse de Conti, in marriage to the Prince of Orange, 
 believing he did that Prince great honour by the 
 proposal. The Prince did not think in the same 
 manner, and flatly refused ; saying, that the House of 
 Orange was accustomed to marry the legitimate 
 daughters of great kings, and not their bastards. 
 These words sank so deeply into the heart of the King, 
 that he never forgot them ; and often, against even his 
 most palpable interest, showed how firmly the indigna- 
 tion he felt at them had taken possession of his mind. 
 Since then, the Prince of Orange had done all in his 
 power to efface the effect his words had made, but 
 every attempt was rejected with disdain. The King's 
 ministers in Holland had orders to do all they could to 
 thwart the projects of the Prince of Orange, to excite
 
 138 DUG DE CONDE IN BURGUNDY. 
 
 people against him, to protect openly those opposed to 
 him, and to be in no way niggard of money in order to 
 secure the election of magistrates unfavourable to him. 
 The Prince never ceased, until the breaking out of this 
 war, to use every effort to appease the anger of the 
 King. At last, growing tired, and hoping soon to make 
 his invasion into England, he said publicly, that he 
 had uselessly laboured all his life to gain the favours 
 of the King, but that he hoped to be more fortunate in 
 meriting his esteem. It may be imagined, therefore, 
 what a triumph it was for him when he forced the 
 King to recognise him as monarch of England, and 
 what that recognition cost the King. 
 
 M. le Due presided this year over the Assembly of 
 the States of Burgundy, in place of his father M. le 
 Prince, who did not wish to go there. The Due gave 
 on that occasion a striking example of the friendship 
 of princes, and a fine lesson to those who seek it. 
 Santeuil, Canon of St. Victor, and the greatest Latin 
 poet who has appeared for many centuries, accom- 
 panied him. Santeuil was an excellent fellow, full of 
 wit and of life, and of pleasantries, which rendered 
 him an admirable boon-companion. Fond of wine 
 and of good cheer, he was not debauched ; and with a 
 disposition and talents so little fitted for the cloister, 
 was nevertheless, at bottom, as good a churchman as 
 with such a character he could be. He was a great 
 favourite with all the house of Conde, and was invited 
 to their parties, where his witticisms, his verses, and 
 his pleasantries had afforded infinite amusement for 
 many years.
 
 STRANGE DEATH OF SANTEUIL. 139 
 
 M. le Due wished to take him to Dijon. Santeuil 
 tried to excuse himself, but without effect : he was 
 obliged to go, and was established at the house of 
 the Due " while the States were held. -Every evening 
 there was a supper, and Santeuil was always the life 
 of the company. One evening M. le Due diverted 
 himself by forcing Santeuil to drink champagne, and 
 passing from pleasantry to pleasantry, thought it would 
 be a good joke to empty his snuff-box, full of Spanish 
 snuff, into a large glass of wine, and to make Santeuil 
 drink it, in order to see what would happen. It was 
 not long before he was enlightened upon this point. 
 Santeuil was seized with vomiting and with fever, and 
 in twice twenty -four hours the unhappy man died 
 suffering the tortures of the damned, but with senti- 
 ments of extreme penitence, in which he received the 
 sacrament, and edified a company little disposed 
 towards edification, but who detested such a cruel 
 joke. 
 
 In consequence of the peace just concluded at 
 Kyswick, many fresh arrangements were made about 
 this time in our embassies abroad. This allusion to 
 our foreign appointments brings to my mind an anec- 
 dote which deserves to be remembered. When M. de 
 Vendome took Barcelona, the Montjoui (which is as it 
 were its citadel) was commanded by the Prince of 
 Darmstadt. He was of the house of Hesse, and had gone 
 into Spain to seek employment : he was a relative of the 
 Queen of Spain, and, being a very well-made man, had 
 not, it was said, displeased her. It was said also, and 
 by people whose word was not without weight, that the
 
 140 THE PRINCE DE DARMSTADT. 
 
 same council of Vienna which for reasons of state had 
 made no scruple of poisoning the late Queen of Spain 
 (daughter of Monsieur), because she had no children, 
 and because she had, also, too much ascendancy over the 
 heart of her husband ; it was said, I say, that this same 
 council had no scruples upon another point. After 
 poisoning the first Queen, it had remarried the King 
 of Spain to a sister of the Empress. She was tall, 
 majestic, not without beauty and capacity, and, guided 
 by the ministers of the Emperor, soon acquired much 
 influence over the King her husband. So far all was 
 well, but the most important thing was wanting she 
 had no children. The council had hoped some from 
 this second marriage, because it had lured itself into 
 the belief that previously the fault rested with the late 
 Queen. After some years, this same council, being no 
 longer able to disguise the fact that the King could 
 have no children, sent the Prince of Darmstadt into 
 Spain, for the purpose of establishing himself there, 
 and of ingratiating himself into the favour of the 
 Queen to such an extent that this defect might be 
 remedied. The Prince of Darmstadt was well received : 
 he obtained command in the army ; defended, as I 
 have said, Barcelona ; and obtained a good footing at 
 the Court. But the object for which he had been more 
 especially sent he could not accomplish. I will not 
 say whether the Queen was inaccessible from her own 
 fault or that of others. Nor will I say, although I 
 have been assured, but I believe by persons without 
 good knowledge of the subject, that naturally it was 
 impossible for her to become a mother. I will simply
 
 MADAME DE MAINTENON's BROTHER. 141 
 
 say that the Prince of Darmstadt was on the best terms 
 with the King and the Queen, and had opportunities 
 very rare in that country, without any fruit which 
 could put the succession of the monarchy in safety 
 against the different pretensions afloat, or re-assure on 
 that head the politic council of Vienna. 
 
 But to return to France. 
 
 Madame de Maintenon, despite the height to which 
 her insignificance had risen, had yet her troubles. Her 
 brother, who was called the Comte d'Aubigne, ,was of 
 but little worth, yet always spoke as though no man 
 were his equal, complained that he had not been made 
 Marechal of France sometimes said that he had 
 taken his baton in money, and constantly bullied 
 Madame de Maintenon because she did not make him 
 a due and a peer. He spent his time running after 
 girls in the Tuileries, always had several on his 
 hands, and lived and spent his money with their 
 famiHes and friends of the same kidney. He was just 
 fit for a strait-waistcoat, but comical, full of wit and 
 unexpected repartees. A good, humorous fellow, and 
 honest polite, and not too impertinent on account of 
 his sister's fortune. Yet it was a pleasure to hear him 
 talk of the time of Scarron and the Hotel d'Albret, 
 and of the gallantries and adventures of his sister, 
 which he contrasted with her present position and 
 devotion. He would talk in this manner, not before 
 one or two, but in a compromising manner, quite 
 openly in the Tuileries gardens, or in the galleries of 
 Versailles, before everybody, and would often drolly 
 speak of the King as " the brother-in-law." I have
 
 142 A DEVOUT RAKE. 
 
 frequently heard him talk in this manner ; above all, 
 when he came (more often than was desired) to dine 
 with my father and mother, who were much embar- 
 rassed with him; at which I used to laugh in my 
 sleeve. 
 
 A brother like this was a great annoyance to Ma- 
 dame de Maintenon. His wife, an obscure creature, 
 more obscure, if possible, than her birth, foolish to 
 the last degree, and of humble mien, was almost 
 equally, so. Madame de Maintenon determined to rid 
 herself of both. She persuaded her brother to enter 
 a society that had been established by a M. Doyen, at 
 St. Sulpice, for decayed gentlemen. His wife at the 
 same time w r as induced to retire into another com- 
 munity, where, however, she did not fail to say to 
 her companions that her fate was very hard, and that 
 she wished to be free. As for d'Aubigne he con- 
 cealed from nobody that his sister was putting a joke 
 on him by trying to persuade him that he was 
 devout, declared that he was pestered by priests, and 
 that he should give up the ghost in M. Doyen's house. 
 He could not stand it long, and went back to his girls 
 and to the Tuileries, and wherever he could ; but they 
 caught him again, and placed him under the guardian- 
 ship of one of the stupidest priests of St. Sulpice, who 
 followed him everywhere like his shadoAv, and made 
 him miserable. The fellow's name was Madot : he was 
 good for no other employment, but gained his pay in 
 this one by an assiduity, of which perhaps no one else 
 would have been capable. The only child of this Comte 
 d'Aubigne was a daughter, taken care of by Madame
 
 EXTRAVAGANT DRESSES. 14S 
 
 de Maintenon, and educated under her eyes as though 
 her own child. 
 
 Towards the end of the year, and not long after 
 my return from the army, the King fixed the day for 
 the marriage of the Due de Bourgogne to the young 
 Princesse de Savoy. He announced that on that occa- 
 sion he should be glad to see a magnificent Court; and 
 he himself, who for a long time had worn only the 
 most simple habits, ordered the most superb. This 
 was enough ; no one thought of consulting his purse 
 or his state : every one tried to surpass his neigh- 
 bour in richness and invention. Gold and silver 
 scarcely sufficed : the shops of the dealers were 
 emptied in a few days ; in a word, luxury the most 
 unbridled reigned o\^r Court and city, for the fete 
 had a huge crowd of spectators. Things went to such 
 a point, that the King almost repented of what he had 
 said, and remarked, that he could not understand how 
 husbands could be such fools as to ruin themselves 
 by dresses for their wives ; he might have added, by 
 dresses for themselves. But the impulse had been 
 given; there was now no time to remedy it, and, I 
 believe, the King at heart was glad; for it pleased 
 him during the fetes to look at all the dresses. He 
 loved passionately all kinds of sumptuosity at his 
 Court, and he who should have held only to what had 
 been said, as to the folly of expense, would have grown 
 little in favour. There .was no means, therefore, of 
 being wise among so many fools. Several dresses were 
 necessary. Those for Madame St. Simon and my- 
 self cost us twenty thousand francs. Workmen were
 
 144 MARRIAGE OF THE DUG DE BOURGOGNE. 
 
 wanting to make up so many rich habits. Madame 
 la Duchesse actually sent her people to take some 
 by force who were working at the Due cle Rohan's ! 
 The King heard of it, did not like it, and had the 
 workmen sent back immediately to the Hotel de 
 Rohan, although the Due de Rohan was one of the 
 men he liked the least in all France. The King did 
 another thing, which showed that he desired every- 
 body to be magnificent : he himself chose the design 
 for the embroidery of the Princesse. The embroiderer 
 said he would leave all his other designs for that. 
 The King would not permit this, but caused him to 
 finish the work he had in hand, and to set himself 
 afterwards at the other ; adding, that if it was not 
 ready in time, the Princesse coulc^do without it. 
 
 The marriage was fixed for Saturday, the 7th of 
 December ; and, to avoid disputes and difficulties, the 
 King suppressed all ceremonies. The day arrived. 
 At an early hour all the Court went to Monseigneur 
 the Due de Bourgogne, who went afterwards to the 
 Princesse. A little before mid-day the procession 
 started from the salon, and proceeded to the chapel. 
 Cardinal de Coislin performed the marriage service. 
 As soon as the ceremony was finished, a courier, ready 
 at the door of the chapel, started for Turin. The day 
 passed wearily. The King and Queen of England 
 came about seven o'clock in the evening, and some 
 time afterwards supper was served. Upon rising 
 from the table, the Princesse was shown to her bed, 
 none but ladies being allowed to remain in the cham- 
 ber. Her chemise was given her by the Queen of
 
 THE "BEDDING" OF THE PRINCESSE. 145 
 
 England through the Duchesse de Lude. The Duo 
 de Bourgogne undressed in another room, in the midst 
 of all the Court, and seated upon a folding-chair. 
 The King of England gave him his shirt, which was 
 presented by the Due de Beauvilliers. As soon as the 
 Duchesse de Bourgogne was in bed, the Due de Bour- 
 gogne entered, and placed himself at her side, in the 
 presence of all the Court. Immediately afterwards 
 everybody went away from the nuptial chamber, 
 except Monseigneur, the ladies of the Princesse, and 
 the Due de Beauvilliers, who remained at the pillow 
 by the side of his pupil, with the Duchesse de Lude 
 on the other side. Monseigneur stopped a quarter of 
 an hour talking with the newly-married couple, then 
 he made his son get up, after having told him to kiss 
 the Princesse, in spite of the opposition of the Duchesse 
 de Lude. As it proved, too, her opposition was not 
 wrong. The King said he did not wish that his 
 grandson should kiss the end of the Princesse's finger 
 until they were completely on the footing of man 
 and wife. Monsieur le Due de Bourgogne after this 
 redressed himself in the ante-chamber, and went to 
 his own bed as usual. The little Due de Berry, 
 spirited and resolute, did not approve of the docility 
 of his brother, and declared that he would have 
 remained in bed. The young couple were not, indeed, 
 allowed to live together as man and wife until nearly 
 two years afterwards. The first night that this privi- 
 lege was granted them, the King repaired to their 
 chamber, hoping to surprise them as they went to bed ; 
 but he found the doors closed, and would not allow 
 
 TOt. I. L
 
 146 GRAND BALLS. 
 
 them to be opened. The marriage -fetes spread over 
 several days. On the Sunday there was an assembly 
 in the apartments of the new Duchesse de Bourgogne. 
 It was magnificent by the prodigious number of ladies 
 seated in a circle, or standing behind the stools, gen- 
 tlemen in turn behind them, and the dresses of all 
 beautiful. It commenced at six o'clock. The King came 
 at the end, and led all the ladies into the saloon near 
 the chapel, where was a fine collation, and the music. 
 At nine o'clock he conducted Monsieur and Madame la 
 Duchesse de Bourgogne to the apartment of the latter, 
 and all was finished for the day. The Princesse con- 
 tinued to live just as before, and the ladies had strict 
 orders never to leave her alone with her husband. 
 
 On the "Wednesday there was a grand ball in the 
 gallery, superbly ornamented for the occasion. There 
 was such a crowd, and such disorder, that even the 
 King was inconvenienced, and Monsieur was pushed 
 and knocked about in the crush. How other people 
 fared may be imagined. No place was kept strength 
 or chance decided everything people squeezed in 
 where they could. This spoiled all the fete. About 
 nine o'clock refreshments were handed round, and at 
 half-past ten supper was served. Only the Princesses 
 of the blood and the royal family were admitted to it. 
 On the following Sunday there was another ball, but 
 this time matters were so arranged that no crowding 
 or inconvenience occurred. The ball commenced at 
 seven o'clock, and was admirable ; everybody appeared 
 in dresses that had not previously been seen. The 
 King found that of Madame de Saint Simon much to
 
 A SCANDALOUS BIRD. 147 
 
 his taste, and gave it the palm over all the others. 
 Madame de Maintenon did not appear at these balls, 
 at least only for half an hour at each. On the follow- 
 ing Tuesday all the Court went at four o'clock in the 
 afternoon to Trianon, where all gambled until the 
 arrival of the King and Queen of England. The King 
 took them into the theatre, where Destouches's opera 
 of Isse was very well performed. The opera being 
 finished, everybody went his way, and thus these 
 marriage-fetes were brought to an end. 
 
 Tesse had married his eldest daughter to La Varenne 
 last year, and now married his second daughter to 
 Maulevrier, son of a brother of Colbert. This mention 
 of La Varenne brings to my recollection a very pleasant 
 anecdote of his ancestor, the La Varenne so known in 
 all the memoirs of the time as having risen from the 
 position of scullion to that of cook, and then to that 
 of cloak-bearer to Henry IV., whom he served in his 
 pleasures, and afterwards in his state-affairs. At the 
 death of the King, La Varenne retired very old and 
 very rich into the country. Birds were much in vogue 
 at that time, and he often amused himself with 
 falconry. One day a magpie perched on one of his 
 trees, and neither sticks nor stones could dislodge it. 
 La Varenne and a number of sportsmen gathered 
 around the tree and tried to drive away the magpie. 
 Importuned with all this noise, the bird at last began 
 to cry repeatedly with all its might, " Pandar ! Pandar ! " 
 
 Now La Varenne had gained all he possessed by that 
 trade. Hearing the magpie repeat again and again 
 the same word, he took it into his head that by a 
 
 L 2
 
 148 LA VAEENNE FRIGHTENED TO DEATH. 
 
 miracle, like the observation Balaam's ass made to liis 
 master, the bird was reproaching him for his sins. He 
 was so troubled that he could not help showing it ; 
 then, more and more agitated, he told the cause of his 
 disturbance to the company, who laughed at him in the 
 first place, but, upon finding that he was growing really 
 ill, they endeavoured to convince him that the magpie 
 belonged to a neighbouring village, where it had 
 learned the word. It was all in vain: La Varenne 
 was so ill that he was obliged to be carried home; 
 fever seized him, and in four days he died.
 
 AN ODD MARRIAGE. 149 
 
 CHAPTEK XII. 
 
 An Odd Marriage Black Daughter of the King Travels of Peter the 
 Great Magnificent English Ambassador The Prince of Parma A 
 Dissolute Abbe Orondat Dispute about Mourning M. de Cambrai's 
 Book condemned by M. de la Trappe Anecdote of the head of 
 Madame de Montbazon Condemnation of Fenelon by the Pope His 
 Submission. 
 
 HERE perhaps is the place to speak of Charles IV., 
 Due de Lorraine, so well known by his genius, and the 
 extremities to which he was urged. He was married 
 in 1621 to the Duchesse Nicole, his cousin-german, 
 but after a time ceased to live with her. Being at 
 Brussels he fell in love with Madame de Cantecroix, a 
 widow. He bribed a courier to bring him news of the 
 death of the Duchesse Nicole : he circulated the 
 report throughout the town, wore mourning, and four- 
 teen days afterwards, in April 1637, married Madame de 
 Cantecroix. In a short time it was discovered that 
 the Duchess Nicole was full of life and health, and had 
 not even been ill. Madame de Cantecroix made believe 
 that she had been duped, but still lived with the Due. 
 They continued to repute the Duchesse Nicole as dead, 
 and lived together in the face of the world as though 
 effectually married, although there had never been any 
 question either before or since of dissolving the first 
 marriage. The Due Charles had by this fine marriage 
 a daughter and then a son, both perfectly illegitimate,
 
 150 THE KING'S BLACK DAUGHTER. 
 
 and universally regarded as such. Of these the 
 daughter married Comte de Lislebonne, by whom she 
 had four children. The son, educated under his father's- 
 eye as legitimate, was called Prince de Vaudemont, and 
 by that name has ever since been known. He entered 
 the service of Spain, distinguished himself in the army, 
 obtained the support of the Prince of Orange, and 
 ultimately rose to the very highest influence and 
 prosperity. 
 
 People were astonished this year, that while the 
 Princess of Savoy was at Fontainebleau, just before her 
 marriage, she was taken several times by Madame de 
 Maintenon to a little unknown convent at Moret, where 
 there was nothing to amuse her, and no nuns who 
 were known. Madame de Maintenon often went there, 
 and Monseigneur with his children sometimes ; the 
 late Queen used to go also. This awakened much 
 curiosity and gave rise to many reports. It seems that 
 in this convent there was a woman of colour, a Moorish 
 woman, who had been placed there very young by 
 Bontems, valet of the King. She received the utmost 
 care and attention, but never was shown to anybody. 
 When the late Queen or Madame de Maintenon went, 
 they did not always see her, but always watched over 
 her welfare. She was treated with more consideration 
 than people the most distinguished ; and herself made 
 much of the care that was taken of her, and the 
 mystery by which she was surrounded. Although she 
 lived regularly, it was easy to see she was not too con- 
 tented with her position. Hearing Monseigneur hunt 
 in the forest one day, she forgot herself so far as to
 
 PETER THE GREAT. 151 
 
 exclaim, " My brother is hunting !" It was pretended 
 that she was a daughter of the King and Queen, but 
 that she had been hidden away on account of her 
 colour ; and the report was spread that the Queen had 
 had a miscarriage. Many people believed this story ; 
 but whether it was true or not has remained an 
 enigma. 
 
 The year 1698 commenced by a reconciliation between 
 the Jesuits and the Archbishop of Kheims. That pre- 
 late upon the occasion of an ordonnance had expressed 
 himself upon matters of doctrine and morality in a 
 manner that displeased the Jesuits. They acted 
 towards him in their usual manner, by writing an 
 attack upon him, which appeared without any author's 
 name. But the Archbishop complained to the King, 
 and altogether stood his ground so firmly, that in the 
 end the Jesuits were glad to give way, disavow the 
 book, and arrange the reconciliation which took place. 
 
 The Czar, Peter the Great, Emperor of Russia, had 
 at this time already commenced his voyages ; he was 
 in Holland, learning ship -building. Although incog- 
 nito, he wished to be recognised, but after his own 
 fashion ; and was annoyed that, being so near to 
 England, no embassy was sent to him from that 
 country, which he wished to ally himself with for 
 commercial reasons. 
 
 At last an embassy arrived ; he delayed for some 
 time to give it an audience, but in the end fixed the 
 day and hour at which he would see it. The reception, 
 however, was to take place on board a large Dutch 
 vessel that he was going to examine. There were
 
 152 AMBASSADORS IN "THE TOP." 
 
 two ambassadors ; they thought the meeting-place 
 rather an odd one, but were obliged to go there. 
 When they arrived on board, the Czar sent word that 
 he was in the " top," and that it was there he would 
 see them. The ambassadors, whose feet were un- 
 accustomed to rope-ladders, tried to excuse themselves 
 from mounting; but it was all in vain. The Czar, 
 would receive them in the " top " or not at all. At 
 last they were compelled to ascend, and the meet- 
 ing took place on that narrow place high up in the 
 air. The Czar received them there with as much 
 majesty as though he had been upon his throne, 
 listened to their harangue, replied very graciously, and 
 then laughed at the fear painted upon their faces, 
 and good-humouredly gave them to understand that 
 he had punished them thus for arriving so late. 
 
 After this the Czar passed into England, curious to 
 see and learn as much as possible ; and, having well 
 fulfilled his views, repaired into Holland. He wished 
 to visit France, but the King civilly declined to receive 
 him. He went, therefore, much mortified, to Vienna 
 instead. Three weeks after his arrival he was in- 
 formed of a conspiracy that had been formed against 
 him in Moscow. He hastened there at once, and found 
 that it was headed by his own sister ; he put her in 
 prison, and hanged her most guilty accomplices to the 
 bars of his windows, as many each day as the bars 
 would hold. I have related at once all that regards 
 the Czar for this year, in order not to leap without 
 ceasing from one matter to another ; I shall do this, 
 and for the same reason, with that which follows.
 
 MAGNIFICENT ENGLISH AMBASSADOR. 153 
 
 The King of England was, as I have before said, at 
 the height of satisfaction at having been recognised by 
 the King (Louis XIV.), and at finding himself secure 
 upon the throne. But a usurper is never tranquil 
 and content. William was annoyed by the residence 
 of the legitimate King and his family at Saint 
 Germains. It was too close to the King (of France), 
 and too near England to leave him without disquie- 
 tude. He had tried hard at Ryswick to obtain the 
 dismissal of James II. from the realm, or at least from 
 the Court of France, but without effect. Afterwards 
 he sent the Duke of St. Albans to our King openly, 
 in order to compliment him upon the marriage of the 
 Due de Bourgogne, but in reality to obtain the 
 dismissal. 
 
 The Duke of St. Albans meeting with no success, 
 the Duke of Portland was sent to succeed him. The 
 Duke of Portland came over with a numerous and 
 superb suite ; he kept up a magnificent table, and had 
 horses, liveries, furniture, and dresses of the most 
 tasteful and costly kind. He was on his way when a 
 fire destroyed Whitehall, the largest and ugliest palace 
 in Europe, and which has not since been rebuilt ; so 
 that the kings are lodged, and very badly, at St. 
 James's Palace. 
 
 Portland had his first audience of the King on the 
 4th of February, and remained four months in France. 
 His politeness, his courtly and gallant manners, and 
 the good cheer he gave, charmed everybody, and made 
 him universally popular. It became the fashion to 
 give fetes in his honour ; and the astonishing fact is,
 
 154 THE PRINCE OF PARMA. 
 
 that the King, who at heart was more offended than 
 ever with William of Orange, treated this ambassador 
 with the most marked distinction. One evening he 
 even gave Portland his bedroom candlestick, a favour 
 only accorded to the most considerable persons, and 
 always regarded as a special mark of the King's bounty. 
 
 Notwithstanding all these attentions, Portland was 
 as unsuccessful as his predecessor. The King had 
 firmly resolved to continue his protection to James II., 
 and nothing could shake this determination. Portland 
 was warned from the first, that if he attempted to 
 speak to the King upon the point, his labour would be 
 thrown away : he wisely therefore kept silence, and 
 went home again without in any way having fulfilled 
 the mission upon which he had been sent. 
 
 We had another distinguished foreigner arrive in 
 France about this time, I mean, the Prince of Parma, 
 respecting whom I remember a pleasant adventure. 
 At Fontainebleau more great dancing-parties are given 
 than elsewhere, and Cardinal d'Estrees wished to give 
 one there in honour of this Prince. I and many others 
 were invited to the banquet ; but the Prince himself, 
 for whom the invitation was specially provided, was 
 forgotten. The Cardinal had given invitations right 
 and left, but by some omission the Prince had not 
 had one sent to him. On the morning of the dinner 
 this discovery was made. The Prince was at once sent 
 to, but he was engaged, and for several days. The 
 dinner therefore took place without him : the Cardinal 
 was much laughed at for his absence of mind. He 
 was often similarly forgetful.
 
 A DISSOLUTE ABB&. 155 
 
 The Bishop of Poitiers died at the commencement 
 of this year, and his bishopric was given at Easter to 
 the Abbe de Caudelet. The Abbe* was a very good 
 man, but made himself an enemy, who circulated 
 the blackest calumnies against him. Amongst other 
 impostures it was said that the Abbe had gambled all 
 Good Friday; the truth being, that in the evening, 
 after all the services were over, he went to see the 
 Marechale de Crequi, who prevailed upon him to 
 amuse her for an hour by playing at piquet. But the 
 calumny had such effect, that the bishopric of Poitiers 
 was taken from him, and he retired into Brittany, 
 where he passed the rest of his life in solitude and 
 piety. His brother in the mean time fully proved to 
 Pere de la Chaise the falsehood of this accusation ; 
 and he, who was upright and good, did all he could 
 to bestow some other living upon the Abbe, in recom- 
 pence for that he had been stripped of. But the King 
 would not consent, although often importuned, and 
 even reproached for his cruelty. 
 
 It was known, too, who was the author of the 
 calumny. It was the Abbe de la Chatre, who for a 
 long time had been chaplain to the King, and who was 
 enraged against every one who was made bishop before 
 him. He was a man not wanting in intelligence, but 
 bitter, disagreeable, punctilious ; very ignorant, because 
 he would never study, and so destitute of morality, that 
 I saw him say mass in the chapel on Ash Wednesday, 
 after having passed the night, masked at a ball, where 
 he said and did the most filthy things, as seen and 
 heard by M. de La Vrilliere, before whom he unmasked,
 
 156 ORONDAT. 
 
 and who related this to me : half an hour after, I met the 
 Abbe de la Chatre, dressed and going to the altar. Other 
 adventures had already deprived him of all chance of 
 being made bishop by the King. 
 
 The old Villars died at this time. I have already 
 mentioned him as having been made chevalier d'hon- 
 neur to the Duchesse de Chartres at her marriage. I 
 mention him now, because I omitted to say before the 
 origin of his name of Orondat, by which he was gene- 
 rally known, and which did not displease him. This is 
 the circumstance that gave rise to it. Madame de 
 Choisy, a lady of the fashionable world, went one day 
 to see the Comtesse de Fiesque, and found there a 
 large company. The Countess had a young girl living 
 with her, whose name was Mademoiselle d'Outrelaise, 
 but who was called the Divine. Madame de Choisy, 
 wishing to go into the bed-room, said she would go 
 there, and see the Divine. Mounting rapidly, she 
 found in the chamber a young and very pretty girl, 
 Mademoiselle Bellefonds, and a man, who escaped 
 immediately upon seeing her. The face of this man 
 being perfectly well made, so struck her, that, upon 
 coming down again, she said it could only be that of 
 Orondat. Now that romances are happily no longer 
 read, it is necessary, to say that Orondat is a character 
 in Cyrus, celebrated by his figure and his good looks, 
 and who charmed all the heroines of that romance, 
 which was then much in vogue. The greater part of 
 the company knew that Villars was upstairs to see 
 Mademoiselle de Bellefonds, with whom he was much 
 in love, and whom he soon afterwards married. Every-
 
 DISPUTE ABOUT MOURNING. 157 
 
 body therefore smiled at this adventure of Orondat, 
 and the name clung ever afterwards to Villars. 
 
 The Prince de Conti lost, before this time, his sqn, 
 Prince la Roche-sur-Yon, who was only four years old. 
 The King wore mourning for him, although it was the 
 custom not to do so for children under seven years of 
 age. But the King had already departed from this 
 custom for one of the children of M. du Maine, and he 
 dared not afterwards act differently towards the children 
 of a prince of the blood. Just at the end of September, 
 M. du Maine lost another child, his only son. The 
 King wept very much, and, although the child was con- 
 siderably under seven years of age, wore mourning for 
 it. The marriage of Mademoiselle to M. de Lorraine 
 was then just upon the point of taking place ; and 
 Monsieur (father of Mademoiselle) begged that this 
 mourning might be laid aside when the marriage was 
 celebrated. The King agreed, but Madame la 
 Duchesse and the Princesse de Conti believed it appa- 
 rently beneath them to render this respect to Mon- 
 sieur, and refused to comply. The King commanded 
 them to do so, but they pushed the matter so far as 
 to say that they had no other clothes. Upon this, the 
 King ordered them to send and get some directly. 
 They were obliged to obey, and admit themselves van- 
 quished ; but they did so not without great vexation. 
 M. de Cambrai's affair still continued to make a great 
 stir among the prelates and at the Court. Madame 
 Guyon was transferred from the Vincennes to the Bas- 
 tille, and it was believed she \vould remain there all 
 her life. The Dues de Chevreuse and Beauvilliers lost
 
 158 "LES MAXIMES DES SAINTS." 
 
 all favour with Madame de Maintenon, and narrowly 
 escaped losing the favour of the King. An attempt was 
 in. fact made, which Madame de Maintenon strongly 
 supported, to get them disgraced; and, hut for the 
 Archbishop of Paris, this would have taken place. But 
 this prelate, thoroughly upright and conscientious, 
 counselled the King against such a step, to the great 
 vexation of his relations, who were the chief plotters in 
 the conspiracy to overthrow the two Dues. As for 
 M. de Camhrai's hook, " Les Maximes des Saints," it 
 was as little liked as ever, and underwent rather a strong 
 criticism at this time from M. de La Trappe, which did 
 not do much to improve its reputation. At the com- 
 mencement of the dispute M. de Meaux had sent a 
 copy of " Les Maximes des Saints " to M. de La 
 Trappe, asking as a friend for his opinion of the 
 work. M. de La Trappe read it, and was much scan- 
 dalised. The more he studied it, the more this senti- 
 ment penetrated him. At last, after having well 
 examined the book, he sent his opinion to M. de 
 Meaux, believing it would be considered as private, 
 and not be shown to anybody. He did not measure 
 his words, therefore, but wrote openly, that if M. de 
 Cambrai was right he might burn the Evangelists, and 
 complain of Jesus Christ, who could have come into 
 the world only to deceive us. The frightful force of this 
 phrase was so terrifying, that M. de Meaux thought it 
 worthy of being shown to Madame de Maintenon ; and 
 she, seeking only to crush M. de Cambrai with all the 
 authorities possible, would insist upon this opinion of 
 M. de La Trappe being printed.
 
 A MAN IN A RAGE. 159 
 
 It may be imagined what triumphing there was on 
 the one side, and what piercing cries on the other. 
 The friends of M. de Cambrai complained most bitterly 
 that M. de La Trappe had mixed himself up in the 
 matter, and had passed such a violent and cruel sen- 
 tence upon a book then under the consideration of the 
 Pope. M. de La Trappe on his side was much afflicted 
 that his letter had been published. He wrote to M. de 
 Meaux protesting against this breach of confidence; 
 and said that, although he had only expressed what he 
 really thought, he should have been careful to use more 
 measured language, had he supposed his letter would 
 have seen the light. He said all he could to heal the 
 wounds his words had caused, but M. de Cambrai and 
 his friends never forgave him for having written them. 
 
 This circumstance caused much discussion; and 
 M. de La Trappe, to whom I was passionately attached, 
 was frequently spoken of in a manner that caused me 
 much annoyance. Riding out one day in a coach with 
 some of my friends, the conversation took this turn. 
 I listened in silence for some time, and then, feeling 
 no longer able to support the discourse, desired to be 
 set down, so that my friends might talk at their ease, 
 without pain to me. They tried to retain me, but I 
 insisted and carried my point. Another time, Charost, 
 one of my friends, spoke so disdainfully of M. de La 
 Trappe, and I replied to him with such warmth, that 
 on the instant he was seized with a fit, tottered, 
 stammered, his throat swelled, his eyes seemed starting 
 from his head, and his tongue from his mouth. 
 Madame de Saint Simon and the other ladies who
 
 160 THE HEAD OF MADAME DE MOXTBAZOX. 
 
 were present flew to his assistance ; one unfastened 
 his cravat and his shirt-collar, another threw a jug of 
 water over him and made him drink something ; but 
 as for me, I was struck motionless at the sudden change 
 brought about by an excess of anger and infatuation. 
 Charost was soon restored, and w r hen he left I was 
 taken to task by the ladies. In reply I simply 
 smiled. I gained this by the occurrence, that Charost 
 never committed himself again upon the subject of 
 M. de La Trappe. 
 
 Before quitting this theme I will relate an anecdote 
 which has found belief. It has been said, that when 
 M. de La Trappe was the Abbe de Ranee he was much 
 in love with the beautiful Madame de Montbazon, and 
 that he was well treated by her. On one occasion 
 after leaving her, in perfect health, in order to go 
 into the country, he learnt that she had fallen ill. He 
 hastened back, entered hurriedly into her chamber, 
 and the first sight he saw there was her head, that the 
 surgeons, in opening her, had separated from her 
 body. It was the first intimation he had had that she 
 was dead, and the surprise and horror of the sight so 
 converted him that immediately afterwards he retired 
 from the world. There is nothing true in all this 
 except the foundation upon which the fiction arose. 
 I have frankly asked M. de La Trappe upon this 
 matter, and from him I have learnt that he was one 
 of the friends of Madame de Montbazon, but that so 
 far from being ignorant of the time of her death, he 
 was by her side at the time, administered the sacra- 
 ment to her, and had never quitted her during the
 
 CONDEMNATION OF FENELON. 161 
 
 few days she was ill. The truth is, her sudden death 
 so touched him, that it made him carry out his 
 intention -of retiring from the Avorld an intention, 
 however, he had formed for many years. 
 
 The affair of M. de Cambrai was not finally settled 
 until the commencement of the following year, 1699, 
 but went on making more noise day by day. At the 
 date I have named the verdict from Rome arrived. 
 Twenty-three propositions of the " Maximes des 
 Saints " were declared rash, dangerous, erroneous, 
 in globo, and the Pope excommunicated those who 
 read the book or kept it in their houses. The King 
 was much pleased with this condemnation, and openly 
 expressed his satisfaction. Madame de Maintenon 
 appeared at the summit of joy. As for M. de Cambrai, 
 he learnt his fate in a moment which would have 
 overwhelmed a man with less resources in himself. 
 He was on the point of mounting into the pulpit : he 
 was by no means troubled ; put aside the sermon 
 he had prepared, and, without delaying a moment, 
 took for subject the submission due to the Church ; 
 he treated this theme in a powerful and touching 
 manner ; announced the condemnation of his book ; 
 retracted the opinions he had professed ; and con- 
 cluded his sermon by a perfect acquiescence and 
 submission to the judgment the Pope had just pro- 
 nounced. Two days afterwards he published his 
 retractation, condemned his book, prohibited the reading 
 of it, acquiesced and submitted himself anew to his 
 condemnation, and in the clearest terms took away 
 from himself all means of returning to his opinions.
 
 162 SUBMISSION OF M. DE CAMBKAI. 
 
 A submission so prompt, so clear, so perfect, was 
 generally admired, although there were not wanting 
 censors who wished he had shown less readiness in 
 giving way. His friends believed the submission 
 would be so flattering to the Pope, that M. de Cambrai 
 might rely upon advancement to a cardinalship, and 
 steps were taken, but without any good result, to bring 
 about that event.
 
 AN ODD EJECTMENT. 163 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Charnace An odd Ejectment A Squabble at Cards Birth of my Son 
 The Camp at Compiegne Splendour of Marechal Boufflers Pique of 
 the Ambassadors Tesse's Grey Hat A sham Siege A singular 
 Scene The King and Madame de Maintenon An astonished Officer 
 Breaking up of the Camp. 
 
 ABOUT this time the King caused Charnace to be 
 arrested in a province to which he had been banished. 
 He was accused of many wicked things, and, amongst 
 others, of coining. Charnace was a lad of spirit, who 
 had been page to the King and officer in the body 
 guard. Having retired to his own house, he often 
 played off many a prank. One of these I will mention, 
 as being full of wit and very laughable. 
 
 He had a very long and perfectly beautiful avenue 
 before his house in Anjou, but in the midst of it were 
 the cottage and garden of a peasant ; and neither 
 Charnace, nor his father before him, could prevail 
 upon the man to remove, although they offered him 
 large sums. Charnace determined at last to gain his 
 point by stratagem. The peasant was a tailor, and 
 lived all alone, without wife or child. One day 
 Charnace sent for him, said he wanted a court suit in 
 all haste, and, agreeing to lodge and feed him, stipu- 
 lated that he should not leave the house until it was 
 done. The tailor agreed, and set himself to the work. 
 
 x 2
 
 164 AN ODD EJECTMENT. 
 
 While he was thus occupied, Charnace had the 
 dimensions of his house and garden taken with the 
 utmost exactitude ; made a plan of the interior, showing 
 the precise position of the furniture and the utensils ; 
 and, when all was done, pulled down the house and 
 removed it a short distance off. 
 
 Then it was arranged as before with a similar 
 looking garden, and at the same time the spot on 
 which it had previously stood was smoothed and 
 levelled. All this was done before the suit was 
 finished. The work being at length over on both sides, 
 Charnace amused the tailor until it was quite dark, 
 paid him, and dismissed him content. The man went 
 on his way down the avenue ; but, finding the distance 
 longer than usual, looked about, and perceived he had 
 gone too far. Eeturning, he searched diligently for 
 his house, but without being able to find it. The 
 night passed in this exercise. When the day came he 
 rubbed his eyes, thinking they might have been in 
 fault ; but as he found them as clear as usual, began 
 to believe that the devil had carried away his house, 
 garden and all. By dint of wandering to and fro, and 
 casting his eyes in every direction, he saw at last a 
 house which was as like to his as are two drops of 
 water to each other. Curiosity tempted him to go 
 and examine it. He did so, and became convinced it 
 was his own. He entered, found everything inside as 
 he had left it, and then became quite persuaded he 
 had been tricked by a sorcerer. The day was not 
 however very far advanced before he learned the truth 
 through the banter of his neighbours. In fury he
 
 A SQUABBLE AT CARDS. 165 
 
 talked of going to law, of demanding justice, but was 
 laughed at everywhere. The King when he heard of 
 it laughed also ; and Charnace had his avenue free. 
 If he had never done anything worse than this, he 
 would have preserved his reputation and his liberty. 
 
 A strange scene happened at Meudon after supper 
 one evening, towards the end of July. The Prince de 
 Conti and the Grand Prieur were playing, and a 
 dispute arose respecting the game. The Grand Prieur, 
 inflated by pride on account of the favours the King 
 had showered upon him, and rendered audacious by 
 being placed almost on a level with the Princes of the 
 blood, used words which would have been too strong 
 even towards an equal. The Prince de Conti answered 
 by a repartee, in which the other's honesty at play 
 and his courage in war both, in truth, little to boast 
 about were attacked. Upon this the Grand Prieur flew 
 in a passion, flung away the cards, and demanded 
 satisfaction, sword in hand. The Prince de Conti, 
 with a smile of contempt, reminded him that he was 
 wanting in respect, and at the same time said he could 
 have the satisfaction he asked for whenever he pleased. 
 The arrival of Monseigneur, in his dressing-gown, put 
 an end to the fray. He ordered the Marquis de 
 Gesvres, who was one of the courtiers present, to 
 report the whole affair to the King, and that everyone 
 should go to bed. On the morrow the King was 
 informed of what had taken place, and immediately 
 ordered the Grand Prieur to go to the Bastille. He 
 was obliged to obey, and remained in confinement 
 several days. The affair made a great stir at Court.
 
 166 BIRTH OF MY SON. 
 
 The Princes of the blood took a very high tone, and 
 the illegitimates were much embarrassed. At last, on 
 the 7th of August, the affair was finally accom- 
 modated through the intercession of Monseigneur. 
 The Grand Prieur demanded pardon of the Prince de 
 Conti in the presence of his brother, M. de Vendome, 
 who was obliged to swallow this bitter draught, 
 although against his will, in order to appease the 
 Princes of the blood, who were extremely excited. 
 
 Nearly at the same time, that is to say, on the 29th 
 of May, in the morning, Madame de Saint Simon was 
 happily delivered of a child. God did us the grace to 
 give us a son. He bore, as I had, the name of Vidame 
 of Chartres. I do not know why people have the 
 fancy for these odd names, but they seduce in all 
 nations, and they who feel the triviality of them, 
 imitate them. It is true that the titles of Count and 
 Marquis have fallen into the dust because of the 
 quantity of people without wealth, and even without 
 land, who usurp them ; and that they have become so 
 worthless, that people of quality who are Marquises or 
 Counts (if they will permit me to say it), are silly 
 enough to be annoyed if those titles are given to them 
 in conversation. It is certain, however, that these 
 titles emanated from landed creations, and that in 
 their origin they had functions attached to them, which 
 they have since outlived. The vidames, on the con- 
 trary, were only principal officers of certain bishops, 
 with authority to lead all the rest of their seigneur's 
 vassals to the field, either to fight against other lords, 
 or in the armies that our Kings used to assemble to
 
 THE CAMP AT COMPIEGNE. 167 
 
 Combat their enemies before the creation of a standing 
 army put an end to the employment of vassals 
 (there being no further need for them), and to all the 
 power and authority of the seigneurs. There is thus 
 no comparison between the title of Vidame, which only 
 marks a vassal, and the titles which by fief emanate 
 from the King. Yet, because the few Vidames who 
 have been known were illustrious, the name has 
 appeared grand, and for this reason was given to me, 
 and afterwards by me to my son. 
 
 Some little time before this, the King resolved to 
 show all Europe, which believed his resources ex- 
 hausted by a long war, that in the midst of profound 
 peace, he was as fully prepared as ever for arms. He 
 wished, at the same time, to present a superb spectacle 
 to Madame de Maintenon, under pretext of teaching 
 the young Due de Bourgogne his first lesson in war. 
 He gave all the necessary orders, therefore, for forming 
 a camp at Compiegne, to be commanded by the 
 Marechal de Boufflers, under the young Due. On 
 Thursday, the 28th of August, all the Court set out 
 for the camp. Sixty thousand men were assembled 
 there. The King, as at the marriage of the Due de 
 Bourgogne, had announced that he counted upon see- 
 ing the troops look their best. The consequence of 
 this was to excite the army to an emulation that was 
 repented of afterwards. Not only were the troops in 
 such beautiful order that it was impossible to give 
 the palm to any one corps, but their commanders 
 added the finery and magnificence of the Court to the 
 majestic and warlike beauty of the men, of the arms, and
 
 168 SPLENDOUR OF BOUFFLERS. 
 
 of the horses ; and the officers exhausted their means 
 in uniforms, which would have graced a fete. 
 
 Colonels, and even simple captains, kept open table ; 
 but the Marechal de Boufflers outstripped everybody 
 by his expenditure, by his magnificence, and his good 
 taste. Never was seen a spectacle so transcendant 
 so dazzling and, it must be said, so terrifying. At 
 all hours, night or daj r , the Marechal's table was open 
 to every comer whether officer, courtier, or spectator. 
 All were welcomed and invited, with the utmost civility 
 and attention, to partake of the good things provided. 
 There was every kind of hot and cold liquors ; every- 
 thing which can be the most widely, and the most 
 splendidly comprehended under the term refreshment : 
 French and foreign wines, and the rarest liqueurs 
 in the utmost abundance. Measures were so well 
 taken that quantities of game and venison arrived 
 from all sides; and the seas of Normandy, of Holland, 
 of England, of Brittany, even the Mediterranean, fur- 
 nished all they contained the most unheard-of, extra- 
 ordinary, and most exquisite at a given day and hour 
 with inimitable order, and by a prodigious number of 
 horsemen and little express carriages. Even the 
 water was fetched from Sainte Heine, from the Seine, 
 and from sources the most esteemed ; and it is impos- 
 sible to imagine anything of any kind which was not 
 at once ready for the obscurest as for the most distin- 
 guished visitor, the guest most expected, and the guest 
 not expected at all. Wooden houses and magnificent 
 tents stretched all around, in number sufficient to form 
 a camp of themselves, and were furnished in the most
 
 PIQUE OF THE AMBASSADORS. 169 
 
 superb manner, like the houses in Paris. Kitchens 
 and rooms for every purpose were there, and the whole 
 was marked by an order and cleanliness that excited 
 surprise and admiration. The King, wishing that the 
 magnificence of this camp should be seen by the 
 ambassadors, invited them there, and prepared lodg- 
 ings for them. But the ambassadors claimed a silly 
 distinction, which the King would not grant, and they 
 refused his invitation. This distinction I call silly 
 because it brings no advantage with it of any kind. I 
 am ignorant of its origin, but this is what it consists 
 in. When, as upon such an occasion as this, lodgings 
 are allotted to the Court, the quarter-master writes in 
 chalk, " for Monsieur Such-a-one," upon those in- 
 tended for Princes of the blood, cardinals, and foreign 
 princes ; but for none other. The King would not 
 allow the " for " to be written upon the lodgings of the 
 ambassadors; and the ambassadors, therefore, kept 
 away. The King was much piqued at this, and I 
 heard him say at supper, that if he treated them as 
 they deserved, he should only allow them to come to 
 Court at audience times, as was the custom every- 
 where else. 
 
 The King arrived at the camp on Saturday, the 30th 
 of August, and went with the Due and Duchesse de 
 Bourgogne and others to the quarters of Marechal de 
 Boufflers, where a magnificent collation was served up 
 to them so magnificent that when the King returned, 
 he said it would be useless for the Due de Bourgogne 
 to attempt anything so splendid ; and that whenever 
 he went to the camp he ought to dine with Marechal de
 
 170 TESSE'S GREY HAT. 
 
 Boufflers. In effect, the King himself soon after dined 
 there, and led to the Marechal's table the King of 
 England, who was passing three or four days in the 
 camp. On these occasions the King pressed Marechal 
 de Boufflers to be seated. He would never comply, but 
 waited upon the King while the Due de Grammont, 
 his brother-in-law, waited upon Monseigneur. 
 
 The King amused himself much in pointing out the 
 disposition of the troops to the ladies of the Court, and 
 in the evening showed them a grand review. 
 
 A very pleasant adventure happened at this review to 
 Count Tesse, colonel of dragoons. Two days previously 
 M. de Lauzun, in the course of chit-chat, asked him 
 how he intended to dress at the review ; and persuaded 
 him that, it being the custom, he must appear at the 
 head of his> troops in a grey hat, or that he would 
 assuredly displease the King. Tesse, grateful for this 
 information, and ashamed of his ignorance, thanked 
 M. de Lauzun, and sent off for a hat in all haste to 
 Paris. The King, as M. de Lauzun well knew, had an 
 aversion to grey, and nobody had worn it for several 
 years. When, therefore, on the day of the review he 
 saw Tesse in a hat of that colour, with a black feather, 
 and a huge cockade dangling and flaunting above, he 
 called to him, and asked him why he wore it. Tesse 
 replied, that it was the privilege of the colonel-general 
 to wear that day a grey hat. " A gre'y hat," replied the 
 King, " where the devil did you learn that ? " " From 
 M. de Lauzun, Sire, for whom you created the charge," 
 said Tess6, all embarrassment. On the instant, the good 
 Lauzun vanished, bursting with laughter, and the King
 
 A SHAM SIEGE. 171 
 
 assured Tesse that M. de Lauzun had merely been 
 joking with him. I never saw a man so confounded as 
 Tesse at this. He remained with downcast eyes, 
 looking at his hat, with a sadness and confusion that 
 rendered the scene perfect. He was obliged to treat 
 the matter as a joke, but was for a long time much 
 tormented about it, and much ashamed of it. 
 
 Nearly every day the Princes dined with Marechal 
 de Boufflers, whose splendour and abundance knew no 
 end. Everybody who visited him, even the humblest, 
 was served with liberality and attention. All the 
 villages and farms for four leagues round Compiegne 
 were filled with people, French, and foreigners, yet 
 there was no disorder. The gentlemen and valets at 
 the Marechal's quarters were of themselves quite a 
 world, each more polite than his neighbour, and all in- 
 cessantly engaged from five o'clock in the morning, 
 until ten and eleven o'clock at night, doing the honours 
 to various guests. I return in spite of myself to the 
 Marechal's liberality ; because, who ever saw it, cannot 
 forget, or ever cease to be in a state of astonishment and 
 admiration at its abundance and sumptuousness, or at 
 the order, never deranged for a moment at a single 
 point, that prevailed. 
 
 The King wished to show the Court all the manoeu- 
 vres of war; the siege of Compiegne was therefore 
 undertaken, according to due form, with lines, 
 trenches, batteries, mines, &c. On Saturday, the 
 13th of September, the assault took place. To witness 
 it, the King, Madame de Maintenon, all the ladies of 
 the Court, and a number of gentlemen, stationed
 
 172 A SINGULAR SCENE. 
 
 themselves upon an old rampart, from which the plain 
 and all the disposition of the troops could be seen. 
 I was in the half circle very close to the King. It 
 was the most beautiful sight that can be imagined, 
 to see all that army, and the prodigious number of 
 spectators on horse and foot, and that game of attack 
 and defence so cleverly conducted. 
 
 But a spectacle of another sort, that I could paint 
 forty years hence as well as to-day, so strongly did it 
 strike me, was that which from the summit of this 
 rampart the King gave to all his army, and to the 
 innumerable crowd of spectators of all kinds in the 
 plain below. Madame de Maintenon faced the plain 
 and the troops in her sedan chair alone, between its 
 three windows drawn up her porters having retired 
 to a distance. On the left pole in front sat Madame 
 la Duchesse de Bourgogne ; and on the same side, in a 
 semicircle, standing, were Madame la Duchesse, Madame 
 la Princesse de Conti, and all the ladies, and behind 
 them again, many men. At the right window was the 
 King, standing, and a little in the rear, a semicircle of 
 the most distinguished men of the Court. The King 
 was nearly always uncovered ; and every now and then 
 stooped to speak to Madame de Maintenon, and 
 explain to her what she saw, and the reason of each 
 movement. Each time that he did so she was obliging 
 enough to open the window four or five inches, but 
 never half way ; for I noticed particularly, and I admit 
 that I was more attentive to this spectacle than to that 
 of the troops. Sometimes she opened of her own 
 accord to ask some question of him, but generally it
 
 THE KING AND MADAME DE MAINTENON. 173 
 
 was he who, without waiting for her, stooped down to 
 instruct hereof what was passing; and sometimes, if she 
 did not notice him, he tapped at the glass to make her 
 open it. He never spoke, save to her, except when 
 he gave a few brief orders, or just answered Madame 
 la Duchesse de Bourgogne, who wanted to make him 
 speak, and with whom Madame de Maintenon carried 
 on a conversation by signs, without opening the front 
 window, through which the young Princesse screamed 
 to her from time to time. I watched the countenance 
 of everyone carefully ; all expressed surprise, tempered 
 with prudence and shame, that was, as it were, ashamed 
 of itself : everyone behind the chair and in the semi- 
 circle, watched this scene more than what was going 
 on in the army. The King often put his hat on the 
 top of the chair in order to get his head in to speak ; 
 and this continual exercise tired his loins very much. 
 Monseigneur was on horseback in the plain with the 
 young Princes. It was about five o'clock in the after- 
 noon, and the weather was as brilliant as could be 
 desired. 
 
 Opposite the sedan chair was an opening with some 
 steps cut through the wall, and communicating with 
 the plain below. It had been made for the purpose of 
 fetching orders from the King, should they be neces- 
 sary. The case happened. Crenan, who commanded, 
 sent Conillac, an officer in one of the defending regi- 
 ments, to ask for some instructions from the King. 
 Conillac had been stationed at the foot of the rampart, 
 where what was passing above could not be seen. He 
 mounted the steps; and as soon as his head and
 
 174 AN ASTONISHED OFFICER. 
 
 shoulders were at the top, caught sight of the chair, 
 the King, and all the assembled company. He was 
 not prepared for such a scene, and it struck him with 
 such astonishment, that he stopped short, with mouth 
 and eyes wide open surprise painted upon every 
 feature. I see him now as distinctly as I did then. 
 The King, as well as all the rest of the company, 
 remarked the agitation of Conillac, and said to him 
 with emotion, " Well, Conillac ! come up." Conillac 
 remained motionless, and the King continued, " Come 
 up. What is the matter ? " Conillac, thus addressed,, 
 finished his ascent, and came towards the King with 
 slow and trembling steps, rolling his eyes from right 
 to left like one deranged. Then he stammered some- 
 thing, but in a tone so low, that it could not be heard. 
 " What do you say ? " cried the King. " Speak up." 
 But Conillac was unable ; and the King finding he 
 could get nothing out of him, told him to go away. 
 He did not need to be told twice, but disappeared at 
 once. As soon as he was gone, the King, looking 
 round, said, " I don't know what is the matter with 
 Conillac. He has lost his wits ; he did not remember 
 what he had to say to me." No one answered. 
 
 Towards the moment of the capitulation, Madame 
 de Maintenon apparently asked permission to go away, 
 for the King cried, " The chairmen of Madame ! " 
 They came and took her away ; in less than a quarter 
 of an hour afterwards, the King retired also, and nearly 
 everybody else. There was much interchange of 
 glances, nudging with elbows, and then whisperings 
 in the ear. Everybody was full of what had taken
 
 BREAKING UP OF THE CAMP. 175 
 
 place on the ramparts between the King and Madame 
 de Maintenoii. Even the soldiers asked what meant 
 that sedan chair and the King every moment stooping 
 to put his head inside it. It became necessary gently 
 to silence these questions of the troops. What effect 
 this sight had upon foreigners present, and what they 
 said of it, may be imagined. All over Europe it was 
 as much talked "of as the camp of Compiegne itself, 
 with all its pomp and prodigious splendour. 
 
 The last act of this great drama was a sham fight. 
 The execution was perfect ; but the commander, Rose,, 
 who was supposed to be beaten, would not yield. 
 Marechal de Boufflers sent and told him more than 
 once that it was time. Rose flew in a passion, and 
 would not obey. The King laughed much at this, and 
 said, " Rose does not like to be beaten." At last he 
 himself sent the order for retreat. Rose was forced 
 then to comply ; but he did it with a very bad grace, 
 and abused the bearer of the order. 
 
 The King left the camp on Monday the 22nd of 
 September, much pleased with the troops. He gave, in 
 parting, six hundred francs to each cavalry captain, 
 and three hundred francs to each captain of infantry. 
 He gave as much to the majors of all the regiments, 
 and distributed some favours to his household. To 
 Marechal de Boufflers he presented one hundred thou- 
 sand francs. All these gifts together amounted to 
 something ; but separately were as mere drops of water. 
 There was not a single regiment that was not ruined, 
 officers and men, for several years. As for Marechal 
 de Boufflers, I leave it to be imagined what a hundred
 
 176 EXPENSES OF BOUFFLERS. 
 
 thousand francs were to him whose magnificence 
 astounded all Europe, described as it was by foreigners 
 who were witnesses of it, and who day after day could 
 scarcely believe their own eyes.
 
 A MONK OF LA TRAPPE. 177 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Gervaise, Monk of La Trappe His disgusting Profligacy The Author of 
 the Lord's Prayer A Struggle for Precedence Mme. de Saint Simon 
 The end of the Quarrel Death of the Chevalier de Coislin A 
 ludicrous Incident Death of Racine The King and the Poet King 
 pays Debts of Courtiers Impudence of M. de VendOme A mys- 
 terious Murder Extraordinary Theft. 
 
 HERE I will relate an adventure, which shows that, 
 however wise and enlightened a man may be, he is 
 never infallible. M. de La Trappe had selected from 
 amongst his brethren one who was to be his successor. 
 The name of this monk was D. Frangois Gervaise. 
 He had been in the monastery for some years, had 
 lived regularly during that time, and had gained the con- 
 fidence of M. de La Trappe. As soon, however, as he 
 received this appointment, his manners began to 
 change. He acted as though he were already master, 
 brought disorder and ill-feeling into the monastery, 
 and sorely grieved M. de La Trappe ; who, however, 
 looked upon this affliction as the work of Heaven, and 
 meekly resigned himself to it. At last, Frangois 
 Gervaise was by the merest chance detected openly, 
 under circumstances which blasted his character for 
 ever. His companion in guilt was brought before 
 M. de La Trappe, to leave no doubt upon the matter. 
 D. Frangois Gervaise, utterly prostrated, resigned his 
 office, and left La Trappe. Yet, even after this, he 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 178 DISGUSTING PROFLIGACY. 
 
 had the hardihood to show himself in the world, and to 
 try and work himself into the favour of Pere La Chaise. 
 A discovery that was made, effectually stopped short 
 his hopes in this direction. A letter of his was found, 
 written to a nun with whom he had been intimate, 
 whom he loved, and by whom he was passionately 
 loved. It was a tissue of filthiness and stark indecency, 
 enough to make the most abandoned tremble. The 
 pleasures, the regrets, the desires, the hopes of this 
 precious pair, were all expressed in the boldest lan- 
 guage and with the utmost license. I believe that so 
 many abominations are not uttered in several days, even 
 in the worst places. For this offence Gervaise might 
 have been confined in a dungeon all his life, but he 
 was allowed to go at large. He wandered from monas- 
 tery to monastery for five or six years, and always 
 caused so much disorder wherever he stopped, that at 
 last the superiors thought it best to let him live as he 
 liked in a curacy of his brother's. He never ceased 
 troubling La Trappe, to which he wished to return ; so 
 that at last I obtained a lettre de cacliet, which pro- 
 hibited him from approaching within thirty leagues of 
 the abbey, and within twenty of Paris. It was I who 
 made known to him that his abominations had been 
 discovered. He was in no way disturbed, declared he 
 was glad to be free, and assured me with the hypocrisy 
 which never left him, that in his solitude he was going 
 to occupy himself in studying the Holy Scriptures. 
 
 Bonnceil, introducer of the ambassadors, being dead, 
 Breteuil obtained his post. Breteuil was not without 
 intellect, but aped courtly manners, called himself
 
 THE AUTHOR OP THE LORD'S PRAYEE. 179 
 
 Baron de Breteuil, and was much tormented and 
 laughed at by his friends. One day, dining at the 
 house of Madame de Pontchartrain, and, speaking very 
 authoritatively, Madame de Pontchartrain disputed 
 with him, and, to test his knowledge, offered to make 
 a bet that he did not know who wrote the Lord's 
 Prayer. He defended himself as well as he was able, 
 and succeeded in leaving the table without being 
 called upon to decide the point. Caumartin, who saw 
 his embarrassment, ran to him, and kindly whispered 
 in his ear that Moses was the author of the Lord's 
 Prayer. Thus strengthened, Breteuil returned to the 
 attack, brought, while taking coffee, the conversation 
 back again to the bet ; and, after reproaching Madame 
 de Pontchartrain for supposing him ignorant upon such 
 a point, and declaring he was ashamed of being obliged 
 to say such a trivial . thing, pronounced emphatically 
 that it was Moses who had written the Lord's Prayer. 
 The burst of laughter that, of course, followed this, 
 overwhelmed him with confusion. Poor Breteuil was 
 for a long time at loggerheads with his friend, and the 
 Lord's Prayer became a standing reproach to him. 
 
 He had a friend, the Marquis de Gesvres, who, 
 upon some points, was not much better informed. 
 Talking one day in the cabinet of the King, and 
 admiring in the tone of a connoisseur some fine paint- 
 ings of the Crucifixion by the first masters, he remarked 
 that they were all by one hand. 
 
 He was laughed at, and the different painters were 
 named, as recognised by their style. 
 
 " Not at all," said the Marquis, " the painter is called 
 
 N 2
 
 180 A STRUGGLE FOE PRECEDENCE. 
 
 INRI ; do you not see his name upon all the pictures ? " 
 What followed after such gross stupidity and igno- 
 rance may be imagined. 
 
 At the end of this year the King resolved to under- 
 take three grand projects, which ought to have been 
 carried out long before : the chapel of Versailles, the 
 church of the Invalides, and the altar of Notre-Dame 
 de Paris. This last was a vow of Louis XIII., made 
 when he no longer was able to accomplish it, and 
 which he had left to his successor, who had been more 
 than fifty years without thinking of it. 
 
 On the 6th of January, upon the reception of the 
 ambassadors at the house of the Duchesse de Bour- 
 gogne, an adventure happened which I will here relate. 
 M. de Lorraine belonged to a family which had been 
 noted for its pretensions and for the disputes of prece- 
 dency in which it engaged. He was as prone to this 
 absurdity as the rest, and on this occasion incited the 
 Princesse d'Harcourt, one of his relations, to act in a 
 manner that scandalised all the Court. Entering the room 
 in which the ambassadors were to be received and where a 
 large number of ladies were already collected, she glided 
 behind the Duchesse de Rohan, and told her to pass to the 
 left. The Duchesse de Rohan, much surprised, replied, 
 that she was veiy well placed already. Whereupon, 
 the Princesse d'Harcourt, who was tall and strong, 
 made no further ado, but with her two arms seized 
 the Duchesse de Rohan, turned her round, and sat 
 down in her place. All the ladies were strangely scan- 
 dalised at this, but none dared say a word, not even 
 Madame de Lude, lady in waiting on the Duchesse de
 
 MADAME DE SAINT SIMOX. 181 
 
 Bourgogne, who, for her part also, felt the insolence 
 of the act, but dared not speak, being so young. As 
 for the Duchesse de Eohan, feeling that opposition 
 must lead to fisticuffs, she curtseyed to the Duchesse, 
 and quietly retired to another place. A few minutes 
 after this, Madame de Saint Simon, who was then 
 with child, feeling herself unwell, and tired of standing, 
 seated herself upon the first cushion she could find. 
 It so happened, that in the position she thus 
 occupied, she had taken precedence of Madame 
 d'Armagnac by two degrees. Madame d'Armagnac, 
 perceiving it, spoke to her upon the subject. Madame 
 de Saint Simon, who had only placed herself there for 
 a moment, did not reply, but went elsewhere. 
 
 As soon as I learnt of the first adventure, I thought 
 it important that such an insult shoiild not be borne, 
 and I went and conferred with M. de La Rochefoucauld 
 upon the subject, at the same time that Marechal de 
 Boufners spoke of it to M. de Noailles. I called upon 
 other of my friends, and the opinion was that the Due 
 de Rohan should complain to the King on the morrow 
 of the treatment his wife had received. 
 
 In the evening, while I was at the King's supper, I 
 was sent for by Madame de Saint Simon, who informed 
 me that the Lorraines, afraid of the complaints that 
 would probably be addressed to the King upon what 
 had taken place between the Princesse d'Harcourt and 
 the Duchesse de Rohan, had availed themselves of 
 what happened between Madame de Saint Simon and 
 Madame d'Armagnac, in order to be the first to complain, 
 so that one might balance the other. Here was a specimen
 
 182 THE END OF THE QUAEREL. 
 
 of the artifice of these gentlemen, which much enraged 
 me. On the instant I determined to lose no time in 
 speaking to the King ; and that very evening I related 
 what had occurred, in so far as Madame de Simon was 
 concerned, but made no allusion to M. de Eohan's 
 affair, thinking it best to leave that to be settled by 
 itself on the morrow. The King replied to me very 
 graciously, and I retired, after assuring him that all I 
 had said was true from beginning to end. 
 
 The next day, the Due de Rohan made his complaint. 
 The King, who had already been fully informed of the 
 matter, received him well, praised the respect and 
 moderation of Madame de Rohan, declared Madame 
 d'Harcourt to have been very impertinent, and said 
 some very hard words upon the Lorraines. 
 
 I found afterwards, that Madame de Maintenon, who 
 much favoured Madame d'Harcourt, had all the trouble 
 in the world to persuade the King not to exclude her 
 from the next journey to Marly. She received a severe 
 reprimand from the King, a good scolding from Madame 
 de Maintenon, and was compelled publicly to ask 
 pardon of the Duchesse de Rohan. This she did ; but 
 with a crawling baseness equal to her previous auda- 
 city. Such was the end of this strange history. 
 
 There appeared at this time a book entitled 
 " Probleme," but without name of author, and directed 
 against M. de Paris, declaring that he had uttered 
 sentiments favourable to the Jansenists being at 
 Chalons, and unfavourable being at Paris. The book 
 came from the Jesuits, who could not pardon M. de 
 Paris for having become archbishop without their
 
 DEATH OF THE CHEVALIER DE COISLIN. 183 
 
 assistance. It was condemned and burnt by decree of 
 the Parliament, and the Jesuits had to swallow all the 
 shame of it. The author was soon after discovered. 
 He was named Boileau ; not the friend of Bontems, 
 who so often preached before the King, and still less 
 the celebrated poet and author of the Flagellants, but 
 a doctor of much wit and learning whom M. de Paris 
 had taken into his favour and treated like a brother. 
 Who would have believed that " Probleme " could 
 spring from such a man ? M. de Paris was much 
 hurt ; but instead of imprisoning Boileau for the rest 
 of his days, as he might have done, he acted the part 
 of a great bishop, and gave him a good canonical of 
 Saint Honore, which became vacant a few days after- 
 wards. Boileau, who was quite without means, com- 
 pleted his dishonour by accepting it. 
 
 The honest people of the Court regretted a cynic 
 who died at this time, I mean the Chevalier de Coislin. 
 He was a most extraordinary man, very splenetic, and 
 very difficult to deal with. He rarely left Versailles, 
 and never went to see the King. I have seen him get 
 out of the way not to meet him. He lived with 
 Cardinal Coislin, his brother. If anybody displeased 
 him, he would go and sulk in his own room ; and if, 
 whilst at table, any one came whom he did not like, 
 he would throw away his plate, go off to sulk, or to 
 finish his dinner all alone. One circumstance will 
 paint him completely. Being on a journey once with 
 his brothers, the Due de Coislin and the Cardinal de 
 Coislin, the party rested for the night at the house of 
 a vivacious and very pretty bourgeoise. The Due de
 
 184 A LUDICROUS INCIDENT. 
 
 Coislin was an exceedingly polite man, and bestowed 
 amiable compliments and civilities upon their hostess, 
 much to the disgust of the Chevalier. At parting, the 
 Due renewed the politeness he had displayed so 
 abundantly the previous evening, and delayed the 
 others by his long-winded flatteries. When, at last, 
 they left the house, and were two or three leagues 
 away from it, the Chevalier de Coislin said, that, in 
 spite of all this politeness, he had reason to believe 
 that their pretty hostess would not long be pleased 
 with the Due. The Due, disturbed, asked his reason 
 for thinking so. " Do you wish to learn it ? " said 
 the Chevalier ; " well, then, you must know that, 
 disgusted by your compliments, I went up into the 
 bed-room in which you slept, and made a filthy mess 
 on the floor, which the landlady will, no doubt, attri- 
 bute to you, despite all your fine speeches." 
 
 At this there was .loud laughter, but the Duke was 
 in fury, and wished to return in order to clear up his 
 character. Although it rained hard, they had all the 
 pains in the world to hinder him, and still more to 
 bring about a reconciliation. Nothing was more 
 pleasant than to hear the brothers relate this adventure 
 each in his own way. 
 
 Two cruel effects of gambling were noticed at this 
 time. Eeineville, a lieutenant of the body-guard, a 
 general officer, distinguished in war, very well treated 
 by the King, and much esteemed by the captain of the 
 Guards, suddenly disappeared, and could not be found 
 anywhere, although the utmost care was taken to 
 search for him. He loved gaming. He had lost what
 
 DEATH OF RACINE. 185 
 
 he could not pay. He was a man of honour, and 
 could not sustain his misfortune. Twelve or fifteen 
 years afterwards he was recognised among the Bavarian 
 troops, in which he was serving in order to gain his 
 bread and to live unknown. The other case was still 
 worse. Perrnillac, a man of much intelligence and 
 talent, had lost more than he possessed, and blew his 
 brains out one morning in bed. He was much liked 
 throughout the army; had taken a friendship for me, 
 and I for him. Everybody pitied him, and I much 
 regretted him. 
 
 Nearly at the same time we lost the celebrated 
 Racine, so known by his beautiful plays. No one 
 possessed a greater talent or a more agreeable mien. 
 There was nothing of the poet in his manners : he had 
 the air of a well-bred and modest man, and at last that 
 of a good man. He had friends, the most illustrious, 
 at the Court as well as among men of letters. I leave 
 it to the latter to speak of him in a better way than I 
 can. He wrote, for the amusement of the King and 
 Madame de Maintenon, and to exercise the young 
 ladies of Saint Cyr, two dramatic master -pieces, 
 Esther and Aihalie. They were very difficult to write, 
 because there could be no love in them, and because 
 they are sacred tragedies, in which, from respect to the 
 Holy Scriptures, it was necessary rigidly to keep to 
 the historical truth. They were several times played 
 at Saint Cyr before a select Court. Racine was 
 charged with the history of the King, conjointly with 
 Despreaux, his friend. This employment, the pieces 
 I have just spoken of, and his friends, gained for
 
 186 THE KING AND THE POET. 
 
 Eacine some special favours. It sometimes happened 
 that the King had no ministers with him, as on 
 Fridays, and, above all, when the bad weather of 
 winter rendered the sittings very long ; then he would 
 send for Kacine to amuse him and Madame de Main- 
 tenon. Unfortunately the poet was oftentimes very 
 absent. It happened one evening that, talking with 
 Eacine upon the theatre, the King asked why comedy 
 was so much out of fashion. Eacine gave several 
 reasons, and concluded by naming the principal, 
 namely, that for want of new pieces the comedians 
 gave old ones, and, amongst others, those of Scarron, 
 which were worth nothing, and which found no favour 
 with anybody. At this the poor widow blushed, not 
 for the reputation of the cripple attacked, but at 
 hearing his name uttered in presence of his successor ! 
 The King was also embarrassed, and the unhappy 
 Eacine, by the silence which followed, felt what a slip 
 he had made. He remained the most confounded of 
 the three, without daring to raise his eyes or to open 
 his mouth. This silence did not terminate for several 
 moments, so heavy and profound was the surprise. 
 The end was that the King sent away Eacine, saying 
 he was going to work. The poet never afterwards 
 recovered his position. Neither the King nor Madame 
 de Maintenon ever spoke to him again, or even looked 
 at him ; and he conceived so much sorrow at this, that 
 he fell into a languor and died two years afterwards. 
 At his death, Valincourt was chosen to work in his 
 place with Despreaux upon the history of the King. 
 The King, who had just paid the heavy gaming and
 
 IMPUDENCE OP M. DE VEND6ME. 187 
 
 tradesmen's debts of Madame la Duchesse, paid also 
 those of Monseigiieur, which amounted to fifty thousand 
 francs, undertook the payment of the buildings at 
 Meudon, and, in lieu of fifteen hundred pistoles a 
 month which he had allowed Monseigneur, gave him 
 fifty thousand crowns. M. de La Kochefoucauld, always 
 necessitous and pitiful in the midst of riches, a prey 
 to his servants, obtained an increase of forty-two 
 thousand francs a-year upon the salary he received as 
 Grand Veneur, although it was but a short time since 
 the King had paid his debts. The King gave also, but 
 in secret, twenty thousand francs a-year to M. de 
 Chartres, who had spent so much in journeys and 
 building that he feared he should be unable to pay his 
 debts. He had asked for an abbey ; but as he had 
 already one, the King did not like to give him another, 
 lest it should be thought too much. 
 
 M. de Vendome began at last to think about his 
 health, which his debauches had thrown into a very 
 bad state. He took public leave of the King and of 
 all the Court before going away, to put himself in the 
 hands of the doctors. It was the first and only ex- 
 ample of such impudence. From this time he lost 
 ground. The King said, at parting, that he hoped he 
 would come back in such a state that people might kiss 
 him without danger! His going in triumph, where 
 another would have gone in shame and secrecy, was 
 startling and disgusting. He was nearly three months 
 under the most skilful treatment and returned 
 to the Court with half his nose, his teeth out, 
 and a physiognomy entirely changed, almost idiotic.
 
 188 A MYSTERIOUS MURDER. 
 
 The King was so much struck by this change, that 
 he recommended the courtiers not to appear to notice 
 it, for fear of afflicting M. de Vendome. That was 
 taking much interest in him assuredly. As, moreover, 
 he had departed in triumph upon this medical ex- 
 pedition, so he returned triumphant by the reception 
 of the King, which was imitated by all the Court. He 
 remained only a few days, and then, his mirror telling 
 sad tales, went away to Anet, to see if nose and teeth 
 would come back to him with his hair. 
 
 A strange adventure, which happened at this time, 
 terrified everybody, and gave rise to many surmises. 
 Savary was found assassinated in his house at Paris : 
 he kept only a valet and a maid -servant, and they were 
 discovered murdered at the same time, quite dressed, 
 like their master, and in different parts of the house. 
 It appeared by writings found there, that the crime 
 was one of revenge : it was supposed to have been 
 committed in broad daylight. Savary was a citizen of 
 Paris, very rich, without occupation, and lived like an 
 epicurean. He had some friends of the highest rank, 
 and gave parties, of all kinds of pleasure, at his 
 house, politics sometimes being discussed. The 
 cause of this assassination was never known ; but so 
 much of it was found out, that no one dared to search 
 for more. Few doubted but that the deed had been 
 done by a very ugly little man, but of a blood so 
 highly respected, that all forms were dispensed with, 
 in the fear lest it should be brought home to him ; and, 
 after the first excitement, everybody ceased to speak of 
 this tragic history.
 
 EXTRAORDINARY THEFT. 189 
 
 On the night between the 3rd and 4th of June, a 
 daring robbery was effected at the grand stables of 
 Versailles. All the horse-cloths and trappings, worth 
 at least fifty thousand crowns, were carried off, and so 
 cleverly and with such speed, although the night was 
 short, that no traces of them could ever afterwards be 
 found. This theft reminds me of another which took 
 place a little before the commencement of these 
 memoirs. The grand apartment at Versailles, that is 
 to say, from the gallery to the tribune, was hung with 
 crimson velvet, trimmed and fringed with gold. One 
 fine morning the fringe and trimmings were all 
 found to have been cut away. This appeared extra- 
 ordinary in a place so frequented all day, so well 
 closed at night, and so well guarded at all times. 
 Bontems, the King's valet, was in despair, and did his 
 utmost to discover the thieves, but without success. 
 
 Five or six days afterwards, I was at the Bang's 
 supper, with nobody but Daquin, chief physician, 
 between the King and me, and nobody at all between 
 me and the table. Suddenly I perceived a large black 
 form in the air, but before I could tell what it was, it 
 fell upon the end of the King's table, just before the 
 cover which had been laid forMonseigneur and Madame. 
 By the noise it made in falling, and the weight of the 
 thing itself, it seemed as though the table must be 
 broken. The plates jumped up, but none were upset, 
 and the thing, as luck would have it, did not fall upon 
 any of them, but simply upon the cloth. The King 
 moved his head half round, and without being moved 
 in any way said, " I think that is my fringe 1"
 
 190 STRANGE RESTITUTION. 
 
 It was indeed a bundle, larger than a flat-brimmed 
 priest's hat, about two feet in height, and shaped like 
 a pyramid. It had come from behind me, from 
 towards the middle door of the two ante-chambers, and 
 a piece of fringe getting loose in the air, had fallen upon 
 the King's wig, from which it was removed by Livry, a 
 gentleman -in- waiting. Livry also opened the bundle, 
 and saw that it did indeed contain the fringes all 
 twisted up, and everybody saw likewise. A murmur 
 was heard. Livry wishing to take away the bundle 
 found a paper attached to it. He took the paper and 
 left the bundle. The King stretched out his hand and 
 said, " Let us see." Livry, and with reason, would 
 not give up the paper, but stepped back, read it, and 
 then passed it to Daquin, in whose hands I read it. 
 The writing, counterfeited and long like that of a 
 woman, was in these words : " Take back your 
 fringes, Bontems ; they are not worth the trouble of 
 keeping my compliments to the King." 
 
 The paper was rolled up, not folded : the King 
 wished to take it from Daquin, who, after much 
 hesitation, allowed him to read it, but did not let 
 it out of his hands. "Well, that is very insolent!" 
 said the King, but in quite a placid unmoved tone as 
 it were, an historical tone. Afterwards he ordered the 
 bundle to be taken away. Livry found it so heavy 
 that he could scarcely lift it from the table, and gave 
 it to an attendant who presented himself. The King 
 spoke no more of this matter, nobody else dared to do 
 so ; and the supper finished as though nothing had 
 happened.
 
 THE MYSTERY IS NOT CLEARED UP. 191 
 
 Besides the excess of insolence and impudence of 
 this act, it was so perilous as to be scarcely understood. 
 How could any one, without being seconded by accom- 
 plices, throw a bundle of this weight and volume in the 
 midst of a crowd such- as was always present at the 
 supper of the King, so dense that it could with diffi- 
 culty be passed through ? How, in spite of a circle 
 of accomplices, could a movement of the arms neces- 
 sary for such a throw escape all eyes ? The Due de 
 Gesvres was in waiting. Neither he nor anybody else 
 thought of closing the doors until the King had left 
 the table. It may be guessed whether the guilty 
 parties remained until then, having had more than three- 
 quarters of an hour to escape, and every issue being 
 free. Only one person was discovered, who was not 
 known, but he proved to be a very honest man, and 
 was dismissed after a short detention. Nothing has 
 since been discovered respecting this theft or its bold 
 restitution.
 
 192 THE FAEEIEE OF SALON. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The Farrier of Salon Apparition of a Queen The Farrier comes to Ver- 
 sailles Revelations to the Queen Supposed explanation New dis- 
 tinctions to the Bastards New Statue of the King Disappointment 
 of Harlay Honesty of Chamillart The Comtesse de Fiesque 
 Daughter of Jacquier Impudence of Saumery Amusing Scene 
 Attempted Murder. 
 
 ON the 12th August, Madame de Saint Simon was 
 happily delivered of a second son, who bore the name 
 of Marquis de Ruffec. A singular event, which 
 happened soon after, made all the world marvel. 
 
 There arrived at Versailles a farrier, from the little 
 town of Salon, in Provence, who asked to see the King 
 in private. In spite of the rebuffs he met with, he 
 persisted in his request, so that at last it got to the 
 ears of the King. The King sent word that he was 
 not accustomed to grant such audiences to whoever 
 liked to ask for them. Thereupon the farrier declared 
 that if he was allowed to see the King he would tell 
 him things so secret and so unknown to everybody else 
 that he w r ould be persuaded of their importance, 
 demanding, if the King would not see him, to be sent 
 to a minister of state. Upon this the King allowed 
 him to have an interview with one of his secretaries, 
 Barbezieux. But Barbezieux was not a minister of 
 state, and, to the great surprise of everybody, the 
 farrier, who had only just arrived from the country, and
 
 APPARITION OF A QUEEN. 193 
 
 who had never before left it or his trade, replied, that 
 not being a minister of state he would not speak with 
 him. Upon this he was allowed to see Pomponne, 
 and converse with him; and this is the story he 
 told. 
 
 He said, that returning home late one evening he 
 found himself surrounded by a great light, close 
 against a tree and near Salon. A woman clad in 
 white but altogether in a royal manner, and beautiful, 
 fair, and very dazzling called him by his name, com- 
 manded him to listen to her, and spake to him more 
 than half-an-hour. She told him she was the Queen, 
 who had been the wife of the King; to whom she 
 ordered him to go and say what she had communicated ; 
 assuring him that God would assist him through all 
 the journey, and that upon a secret thing he should 
 say, the King, who alone knew that secret, would 
 recognise the truth of all he uttered. Site said that in 
 case he could not see the King he was to speak with 
 a minister of state, telling him certain things, but 
 reserving certain others for the King alone. She told 
 him, moreover, to set out at once, assuring him he 
 would be punished with death if he neglected to acquit 
 himself of his commission. The farrier promised to 
 obey her in everything, and the Queen then dis- 
 appeared. He found himself in darkness near the tree. 
 He laid down and passed the night there, scarcely 
 knowing whether he was awake or asleep. In the 
 morning he went home, persuaded that what he had 
 seen was a mere delusion and folly, and said nothing 
 about it to living soul.
 
 194 THE FARRIER COMES TO VERSAILLES. 
 
 Two days afterwards he was passing by the same 
 place when the same vision appeared to him, and he 
 was addressed in the same terms. Fresh threats of 
 punishment were uttered if he did not comply, and he 
 was ordered to go at once to the Intendant of the 
 province, who would assuredly furnish him with 
 money, after saying what he had seen. This time the 
 farrier was convinced there was no delusion in the 
 matter; but, halting between his fears and doubts, 
 knew not what to do, told no one what had passed, and 
 was in great perplexity. He remained thus eight days, 
 and at last had resolved not to make the journey; 
 when, passing by the same spot, he saw and heard the 
 same vision, which bestowed upon him so many 
 dreadful menaces that he no longer thought of any- 
 thing but setting out immediately. In two days from 
 that time he presented himself, at Aix, to the Intendant 
 of the province, who, without a moment's hesitation, 
 urged him to pursue his journey, and gave him sufficient 
 money to travel by a public conveyance. Nothing 
 more of the story was ever known. 
 
 The farrier had three interviews with M. de Pom- 
 ponne, each of two hours' length. M. de Pomponne 
 rendered, in private, an account of these to the King, 
 who desired him to speak more fully upon the point in 
 a council composed of the Dues de Beauvilliers, Pont- 
 chartrain, Torcy, and Pomponne himself ; Monseigneur 
 to be excluded. This council sat very long, perhaps 
 because other things were spoken of. Be that as it may, 
 the King after this wished to converse with the farrier, 
 and did so in his cabinet. Two days afterwards he
 
 REVELATIONS TO THE KING. 195 
 
 saw the man again, at each time was nearly an hour 
 with him, and was careful that no one was within 
 hearing. 
 
 The day after the first interview, as the King was 
 descending the staircase, to go a hunting, M. de Duras, 
 who was in waiting, and who was upon such a footing that 
 he said almost what he liked, began to speak of this 
 farrier with contempt, and, quoting the bad proverb, 
 said, " The man was mad, or the King was not noble." 
 At this the King stopped, and, turning round, a thing 
 he scarcely ever did in walking, replied, " If that be so, 
 I am not noble, for I have discoursed with him long, 
 he has spoken to me with much good sense, and I 
 assure you he is far from being mad." 
 
 These last words were pronounced with a sustained 
 gravity which greatly surprised those near, and which 
 in the midst of deep silence opened all eyes and ears. 
 After the second interview the King felt persuaded 
 that one circumstance had been related to him by the 
 farrier, which he alone knew, and which had happened 
 more than twenty years before. It was that he had 
 seen a phantom in the forest of Saint Germains. Of 
 this phantom he had never breathed a syllable to 
 anybody. 
 
 The King on several other occasions spoke favour- 
 ably of the farrier ; moreover, he paid all the expenses 
 the man had been put to, gave him a gratuity, sent 
 him back free, and wrote to the Intendant of the 
 province to take particular care of him, and never to 
 let him want for anything all his life. 
 
 The most surprising thing of all this is, that none of 
 
 o 2
 
 196 SUPPOSED EXPLANATION. 
 
 the ministers could be induced to speak a word upon 
 the occurrence. Their most intimate friends con- 
 tinually questioned them, but without being able to 
 draw forth a syllable. The ministers either affected to 
 laugh at the matter or answered evasively. This was 
 the case whenever I questioned M. de Beauvilliers or 
 M. de Pontchartrain, and I knew from their most 
 intimate friends that nothing more could ever be 
 obtained from M. de Pomponne or M. de Torcy. As 
 for the farrier himself, he was equally reserved. He 
 was a simple, honest, and modest man, about fifty 
 years of age. Whenever addressed upon this subject, 
 he cut short all discourse by saying, "I am not allowed 
 to speak," and nothing more could be extracted from 
 him. AVhen he returned to his home he conducted 
 himself just as before, gave himself no airs, and never 
 boasted of the interview he had had with the King 
 and his ministers. He went back to his trade, and 
 worked at it as usual. 
 
 Such is the singular story which filled everybody 
 with astonishment, but which nobody could understand. 
 It is true that some people persuaded themselves, and 
 tried to persuade others, that the whole affair was a 
 clever trick, of which the simple farrier had been the 
 dupe. They said that a certain Madame Arnoul, who 
 passed for a witch, and who, having known Madame de 
 Maintenon when she was Madame Scarron, still kept 
 up a secret intimacy with her, had caused the three 
 visions to appear to the farrier, ki order to oblige the 
 King to declare Madame de Maintenon queen. But 
 the truth of the matter was never known.
 
 NEW STATUE OF THE KING. 197 
 
 The King bestowed at this time some more distinc- 
 tions on his illegitimate children. M. du Maine, as 
 grand-master of the artillery, had to be received at the 
 Chambre des Comptes ; and his place ought to have 
 been, according to custom, immediately above that of 
 the senior member. But the King wished him to 
 be put between the first and second president ; and 
 this was done. The King accorded also to the 
 Princesse de Conti that her two ladies of honour 
 should be allowed to sit at the Duchesse de Bour- 
 gogne's table. It was a privilege that no lady of 
 honour to a Princesse of the blood had ever been 
 allowed. But the King gave these distinctions to the 
 ladies of his illegitimate children, and refused it to 
 those of the Princesses of the blood. 
 
 Iri thus according honours, the King seemed to 
 merit some new ones himself. But nothing fresh could 
 be thought of. What had been done therefore at his 
 statue in the Place des Victoires, was done over again 
 in the Place Vendome on the 13th August, after midday. 
 Another statue which had been erected there was un- 
 covered. The Due de Gesvres, Governor of Paris, was 
 in attendance on horseback, at the head of the city 
 troops, and made turns, and reverences, and other 
 ceremonies, imitated from those in use at the conse- 
 cration of the Roman Emperors. There were, it is 
 true, no incense, and no victims : something more in 
 harmony with the title of Christian King was necessary. 
 In the evening, there was upon the river a fine illu- 
 mination, which Monsieur and Madame went to see. 
 
 A difficulty arose soon after this with Denmark.
 
 198 DISAPPOINTMENT OF HAELAT. 
 
 The Prince Eoyal had become King, and announced 
 the circumstance to our King, but would not re- 
 ceive the reply sent him because he was not styled 
 in it " Majesty." We had never accorded to the Kings 
 of Denmark this title, and they had always been con- 
 tented with that of " Serenity." The King in his turn 
 would not wear mourning for the King of Denmark, 
 just dead, although he always did so for any crowned 
 head, whether related to him or not. This state of 
 things lasted some months ; until, in the end, the new 
 King of Denmark gave way, received the reply as it 
 had been first sent, and our King wore mourning as if 
 the time for it had not long since passed. 
 
 Boucherat, chancellor and keeper of the seals, died 
 on the 2nd of September. Harlay, as I have previously 
 said, had been promised this appointment when it 
 became vacant. But the part he had taken in our case 
 with M. de Luxembourg had made him so lose ground, 
 that the appointment was not given to him. M. de La 
 Rochefoucauld, above all, had undermined him in the 
 favour of the King ; and none of us had lost an oppor- 
 tunity of assisting in this work. Our joy, therefore, 
 was extreme when we saw all Harlay 's hopes frus- 
 trated, and we did not fail to let it burst forth. The 
 vexation that Harlay conceived was so great, that he 
 became absolutely intractable, and often cried out with 
 a bitterness he could not contain, that he should be 
 left to die in the dust of the palace. His weakness 
 was such, that he could not prevent himself six weeks 
 after from complaining to the King at Fontainebleau, 
 where he was playing the valet with his accustomed
 
 HONESTY OF CHAMILLART. 199 
 
 suppleness and deceit. The King put him off with fine 
 speeches, and by appointing him to take part in a com- 
 misssion then sitting for the purpose of bringing about a 
 reduction in the price of corn in Paris and the suburbs, 
 where it had become very dear. Harlay made a sem- 
 blance of being contented, but remained not the less 
 annoyed. His health and his head were at last so 
 much attacked that he was forced to quit his post : he 
 then fell into contempt, after having excited so much 
 hatred. The chancellorship was given to Pontchartrain, 
 and the office of comptroller-general, which became 
 vacant at the same time, was given to Chamillart, a 
 very honest man, who owed his first advancement to 
 his skill at billiards, of which game the King was for- 
 merly very fond. It was while Chamillart was accus- 
 tomed to play billiards with the King, at least three 
 times a week, that an incident happened which 
 ought not to be forgotten. Chamillart was Counsellor 
 of the Parliament at that time. He had just reported on 
 a case that had been submitted to him. The losing party 
 ca^ne to him, and complained that he had omitted to 
 bring forward a document that had been given into his 
 hands, and that would assuredly have turned the ver- 
 dict. Chamillart searched for the document, found if, 
 and saw that the complainer was right. He said so, 
 and added, " I do not know how the document 
 escaped me, but it decides in your favour. You claimed 
 twenty thousand francs, and it is my fault you did 
 not get them. Come to-morrow, and I will pay you." 
 Chamillart, although then by no means rich, scraped 
 together all the money he had, borrowing the rest, and
 
 200 THE COMTESSE DE FIESQUE. 
 
 paid the man as he had promised, only demanding that 
 the matter should be kept a secret. But after this, 
 feeling that billiards three times a week interfered 
 with his legal duties, he surrendered part of them, and 
 thus left himself more free for other charges he was 
 obliged to attend to. 
 
 The Comtesse de Fiesque died very aged, while the 
 Court was at Fontainbleau this year. She had passed 
 her life with the most frivolous of the great world. 
 Two incidents amongst a thousand will characterise 
 her. She was very straitened in means, because she 
 had frittered away all her substance, or allowed herself 
 to be pillaged by her business people. When those 
 beautiful mirrors were first introduced she obtained 
 one, although they were then very dear and very rare. 
 " Ah, Countess ! " said her friends, " where did you 
 find that ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " replied she, " I had a miserable piece of 
 land, which only yielded me corn ; I have sold it, and 
 I have this mirror instead. Is not this excellent? 
 Who would hesitate between corn and this beautiful 
 mirror ? " 
 
 On another occasion she harangued with her son, 
 who was as poor as a rat, for the purpose of persuad- 
 ing him to make a good match and thus enrich himself. 
 Her son, who had no desire to marry, allowed her to 
 talk on, and pretended to listen to her reasons. She 
 was delighted entered into a description of the wife 
 she destined for him, painting her as young, rich, an 
 only child, beautiful, well-educated, and with parents 
 who would be delighted to agree to the marriage.
 
 DAUGHTER OF JACQUIEK. 201 
 
 When she had finished, he pressed her for the name of 
 this charming and desirable person. The Countess 
 said she was the daughter of Jacquier, a man well 
 known to everybody, and who had been a contractor of 
 .provisions to the armies of M. de Turenne. Upon 
 this, her son burst out into a hearty laugh, and she in 
 anger demanded why he did so, and what he found so 
 ridiculous in the match. 
 
 The truth was, Jacquier had no children, as the 
 Comtesse soon remembered. At which she said it was 
 a great pity, since no marriage would have better suited 
 all parties. She was full of such oddities, which she 
 persisted in for some time with anger, but at which she 
 was the first to laugh. People said of her that she had 
 never been more than eighteen years old. The memoirs 
 of Mademoiselle paint her well. She lived with Ma- 
 demoiselle, and passed all her life in quarrels about 
 trifles. 
 
 It was immediately after leaving Fontainebleau that 
 the marriage between the Due and Duchesse de Boilr- 
 gcgne was consummated. It was upon this occasion 
 that the King named four gentlemen to wait upon the 
 Due, four who in truth could not have been more 
 badly chosen. One of them, Gamaches, was a gossip, 
 who never knew what he was doing or saying who 
 knew nothing of the world, or the court, or of war, 
 although he had always been in the army. D'O 
 was another; but of him I have spoken. Cheverny 
 was the third, and Saumery the fourth. Saumery had 
 been raised out of obscurity by M. de Beauvilliers. 
 Never was man so intriguing, so truckling, so mean,
 
 202 IMPUDENCE OF SAUMERY. 
 
 so boastful, so ambitious, so intent upon fortune ; and 
 all this without disguise, without veil, without shame ! 
 Saumery had been wounded, and no man ever made so 
 much of such a mishap. I used to say of him that he 
 limped audaciously, and it was true. He would speak 
 of personages the most distinguished, whose ante- 
 chambers even he had scarcely seen, as though he 
 spoke of his equals or of his particular friends. He 
 related what he had heard, and was not ashamed to 
 say before people who at least had common sense, 
 "Poor Mons. Turenne said to me," M. de Turenne 
 never having probably heard of his existence. With 
 Monsieur in full he honoured nobody. It was Mons. 
 de Beauvilliers, Mons. de Chevreuse, and so on ; 
 except with those whose names he clipped off short, 
 as he frequently would, even with Princes of the blood. 
 I have heard him say many times, " the Princesse de 
 Conti," in speaking of the daughter of the King ; and 
 " the Prince de Conti," in speaking of Monsieur her 
 brother-in-law ! As for the chief nobles of the Court, 
 it was rare for him to give them the Monsieur or the 
 Mons. It was Marechal d'Humi^res, and so on with 
 the others. Fatuity and insolence were united in 
 him, and by dint of mounting a hundred staircases a 
 day, and bowing and scraping everywhere, he had 
 gained the ear of I know not how many people. His 
 wife was a tall creature, as impertinent as he, who 
 wore the breeches, and before whom he dared not 
 breathe. Her affrontery blushed at nothing, and after 
 many gallantries she had linked herself on to M. de 
 Duras, whom she governed, and of whom she was
 
 AMUSING SCENE. 203 
 
 publicly and absolutely the mistress, living at his 
 expense. Children, friends, servants, all were at her 
 mercy ; even Madame de Duras herself when she 
 came, which was but seldom, from the country. 
 
 Such were the people whom the King placed near 
 M. le Due de Bourgogne. 
 
 The Due de Gesvres, a malicious old man, a cruel 
 husband and unnatural father, sadly annoyed Marechal 
 de Villeroy towards the end of this year, having pre- 
 viously treated me very scurvily for some advice I gave 
 him respecting the ceremonies to be observed at the 
 reception by the King of M. de Lorraine as Due de 
 Bar. M. de Gesvres and M. de Villeroy had both had 
 fathers who made large fortunes and who became 
 secretaries of state. One morning M. de Gesvres was 
 waiting for the King, with a number of other courtiers, 
 when M. de Villeroy arrived, with all that noise and 
 those airs he had long assumed, and which his favour 
 and his appointments rendered more superb. I know 
 not whether this annoyed de Gesvres more than usual, 
 but as soon as the other had placed himself, he said, 
 " Monsieur le Marechal, it must be admitted that you 
 and I are very lucky." The Marechal, surprised at a 
 remark which seemed to be suggested by nothing 
 assented with a modest air, and, shaking his head 
 and his wig, began to talk to some one else. But 
 M. de Gesvres had not commenced without a purpose. 
 He went on, addressed M. de Villeroy point-blank, 
 admiring their mutual good fortune, but when he 
 came to speak of the father of each, "Let us go 
 no further," said he, " for what did our fathers
 
 20-i ATTEMPTED MURDER. 
 
 spring from ? From tradesmen ; even tradesmen they 
 were themselves. Yours was the son of a dealer in 
 fresh fish at the markets, and mine of a pedlar, or, 
 perhaps, worse. Gentlemen," said he, addressing the 
 company, "have we not reason to think our fortune 
 prodigious the Marechal and I?" The Marechal 
 would have liked to strangle M. de Gesvres, or to see 
 him dead but what can be done with a man who, 
 in order to say something cutting to you, says it to 
 himself first ? Everybody was silent, and all eyes were 
 lowered. Many, however, were not sorry to see M. de 
 Villeroy so pleasantly humiliated. The King came 
 and put an end to the scene, which was the talk of the 
 Court for several days. 
 
 Omissions must be repaired as soon as they are 
 perceived. Other matters have carried me away. At 
 the commencement of April, Ticquet, councillor at the 
 parliament, was assassinated in his own house ; and if 
 he did not die, it was not the fault of his porter, or 
 of the soldier who had attempted to kill him, and 
 who leffc him for dead, disturbed by a noise they heard. 
 This councillor, who was a very poor man, had com- 
 plained to the King, the preceding year, of the conduct 
 of his wife with Montgeorges, captain in the Guards, 
 and much esteemed. The King prohibited Montgeorges 
 from seeing the wife of the councillor again. 
 
 Such having been the case, when the crime was 
 attempted, suspicion fell upon Montgeorges and the 
 wife of Ticquet, a beautiful, gallant, and bold woman, 
 who took a very high tone in the matter. She was 
 advised to fly, and one of my friends offered to assist
 
 EXECUTION OF MADAME TICQUET. 205 
 
 her to do so, maintaining that in all such cases it is 
 safer to be far off than close at hand. The woman 
 would listen to no such advice, and in a few days she 
 was no longer able. The porter and the soldier were 
 arrested and tortured, and Madame Ticquet, who was 
 foolish enough to allow herself to be arrested, also 
 underwent the same examination, and avowed all. 
 She was condemned to lose her head, and her accom- 
 plice to be broken on the wheel. Montgeorges 
 managed so well, that he was not legally criminated- 
 "When Ticquet heard the sentence, he came with all his 
 family to the King, and sued for mercy. But the 
 King would not listen to him, and the execution took 
 place on Wednesday the 17th of June, after midday, 
 at the Greve. All the windows of the Hotel de Ville, 
 and of the houses in the Place de Greve, in the streets 
 that lead to it from the Conciergerie of the palace where 
 Madame Ticquet was confined, were filled with spec- 
 tators, men and women, many of title and distinction. 
 There were even friends of both sexes of this unhappy 
 woman, who felt no shame or horror in going there. 
 In the streets the crowd was so great that it could not 
 be passed through. In general, pity was felt for the 
 culprit ; people hoped she would be pardoned, and it 
 was because they hoped so, that they went to see her 
 die ! But such is the world; so unreasoning, and so 
 little in accord with itself.
 
 206 CARDINAL DELFINI'S SCRUPLES. 
 
 CHAPTEK XVI. 
 
 Eeform at Court Cardinal Delfini Pride of M. de Monaco Early Life of 
 Madame de Maintenon Madame de Navailles Balls at Marly An 
 odd Mask Great Dancing Fortunes of Langlee His Coarseness 
 The Abbe de Soubise Intrigues for his Promotion Disgrace and 
 Obstinacy of Cardinal de Bouillon. 
 
 THE year 1700 commenced by a reform. The King 
 declared that he would no longer bear the expense of 
 the changes that the courtiers introduced into their 
 apartments. It had cost him more than sixty thousand 
 francs since the Court left Fontainebleau. It is believed 
 that Madame de Mailly was the cause of this determi- 
 nation of the King ; for during the last two or three 
 years she had made changes in her apartments every 
 year. 
 
 A difficulty occurred at this time which much mor- 
 tified the King. Little by little he had taken all the 
 ambassadors to visit Messieurs du Maine and de 
 Toulouse, as though they were princes of the blood. 
 The nuncio, Cavallerini, visited them thus, but upon 
 his return to Eome was so taken to task for it, that his 
 successor, Delfini, did not dare to imitate him. The 
 cardinals considered that they had lowered themselves, 
 since Kichelieu and Mazarin, by treating even the 
 Princes of the blood on terms of equality, and giving 
 them their hand, which had not been customary in the
 
 PRIDE OF M. DE MONACO. 207 
 
 time of the two first ministers just named. To do so to 
 the illegitimate offspring of the King, and on occasions of 
 ceremony, appeared to them monstrous. Negotiations 
 were carried on for a month, but Delfini would not hend, 
 and although in every other respect he had afforded 
 great satisfaction during his nunciature, no farewell 
 audience was given to him, nor even a secret audience. 
 He was deprived of the gift of a silver vessel worth 
 eighteen hundred francs, that it was customary to 
 present to the cardinal nuncios at their departure ; and 
 he went away without saying adieu to anybody. 
 
 Some time before, M. de Monaco had been sent as 
 ambassador to Eome. He claimed to be addressed by 
 the title of " Highness," and persisted in it with so 
 much obstinacy, that he isolated himself from almost 
 everybody, and brought the affairs of his embassy 
 nearly to a standstill by the fetters he imposed upon 
 them in the most necessary transactions. Tired at last 
 of the resistance he met with, he determined to refuse 
 the title of " Excellence," although it might fairly belong 
 to them, to all who refused to address him as " High- 
 ness." This finished his affair; for after that de- 
 termination no one would see him, and the business 
 of the embassy suffered even more than Jbefore. It is 
 difficult to comprehend why the King permitted such a 
 man to remain as his representative at a foreign Court. 
 
 Madame de Navailles died on the 14th of February. 
 Her mother, Madame de Neuillant, who became a 
 widow, was avarice itself. I cannot say by what accident 
 or chance it was that Madame de Maintenon in return- 
 ing young and poor from America, where she had lost
 
 208 EARLY LIFE OF MADAME DE MAINTENON. 
 
 father and mother, fell in landing at Rochelle into the 
 hands of Madame de Neuillant, who lived in Poitou. 
 Madame de Neuillant took home Madame de Mainte- 
 non, but could not resolve to feed her without making 
 her do something in return. Madame de Maintenon, 
 was charged therefore with the key of the granary, had 
 to measure out the corn and to see that it was given to 
 the horses. It was Madame de Neuillant who brought 
 Madame de Mainteuon to Paris, and to get rid of her 
 married her to Scarron, and then retired into Poitou. 
 
 Madame de Navailles was the eldest daughter of this 
 Madame de Neuillant, and it was her husband M. de 
 Navailles, who, serving under M. le Prince in Flanders, 
 received from that General a strong reprimand for his 
 ignorance. M. le Prince wanted to find the exact 
 position of a little brook, which his maps did not mark. 
 To assist him in the search, M. de Navailles brought 
 a map of the world ! On another occasion, visiting 
 M. Colbert, at Sceaux, the only thing M. de Navailles 
 could find to praise was the endive of the kitchen 
 garden : and when on the occasion of the Huguenots 
 the difiiculty of changing religion was spoken of, he 
 declared that if God had been good enough to make 
 him a Turk, he should have remained so. 
 
 Madame de Navailles had been lady of honour to 
 the Queen-mother, and lost that place by a strange 
 adventure. 
 
 She was a woman of spirit and of virtue, and the 
 young ladies of honour were put under her charge. 
 The King was at this time young and gallant. So long 
 as he held aloof from the chamber of the young ladies,
 
 SPIRIT OF MADAME DE NAVAILLES. 209 
 
 Madame de Navailles meddled not, but she kept her 
 eye fixed upon all that she controlled. She soon per- 
 ceived that the King was beginning to amuse himself, 
 and immediately after she found that a door had secretly 
 been made into the chamber of the young ladies ; that 
 this door communicated with a stair-case by which the 
 King mounted into the room at night, and was hidden 
 during the day by the back of a bed placed against it. 
 Upon this Madame de Navailles held counsel with 
 her husband. On one side was virtue and honour, on 
 the other, the King's anger, disgrace, and exile. The 
 husband and wife did not long hesitate. Madame de 
 Navailles at once took her measures, and so well, that 
 in a few hours one evening the door was entirely closed 
 up. During the same night the King, thinking to enter 
 as usual by the little staircase, was much surprised to 
 no longer find a door. He groped, he searched, he 
 could not comprehend the disappearance of the door, or 
 by what means it had become wall again. Anger 
 seized him ; he doubted not that the door had been 
 closed by Madame de Navailles and her husband. He 
 soon found that such was the case, and on the instant 
 stripped them of almost all their offices, and exiled 
 them from the Court. The exile was not long: the 
 Queen-mother on her death-bed implored him to 
 receive back Monsieur and Madame de Navailles, and 
 he could not refuse. They returned, and M. de 
 Navailles nine years afterwards was made Marechal of 
 France. After this Madame de Navailles rarely 
 appeared at the Court. Madame de Maintenon could 
 not refuse her distinctions and special favours, but they 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 BALLS AT MARLY. 
 
 were accorded rarely and by moments. The King 
 always remembered his door : Madame de Maintenon 
 always remembered the hay and barley of Madame de 
 Neuillant, and neither years nor devotion could deaden 
 the bitterness of the recollection. 
 
 From just before Candlemas day to Easter of this 
 year, nothing was heard of but balls and pleasures of 
 the Court. The King gave at Versailles and at Marly 
 several masquerades, by which he was much amused, 
 under pretext of amusing the Duchesse de Bourgogne. 
 At one of these balls at Marly a ridiculous scene 
 occurred. Dancers were wanting and Madame de 
 Luxembourg on account of this obtained an invitation, 
 but with great difficulty, for she lived in such a fashion 
 that no woman would see her. Monsieur de Luxem- 
 bourg was perhaps the only person in France who was 
 ignorant of Madame de Luxembourg's conduct. He 
 lived with his wife on apparently good terms and as 
 though he had not the slightest mistrust of her. On 
 this occasion, because of the want of dancers, the King 
 made older people dance than was customary, and 
 among others M. de Luxembourg. Everybody was 
 compelled to be masked. M. de Luxembourg spoke 
 on this subject to M. le Prince, who, malicious as 
 any monkey, determined to divert all the Court and 
 himself at the Duke's expense. He invited M. de 
 Luxembourg to supper, and after that meal was over, 
 masked him according to his fancy. 
 
 Soon after my arrival at the ball, I saw a figure 
 strangely clad in long flowing muslin, and with a head- 
 dress on which was fixed the horns of a stag, so high
 
 AN ODD MASK. 211 
 
 that they became entangled in the chandelier. Of 
 course everybody was much astonished at so strange a 
 sight, and all thought that that mask must be very sure 
 of his wife to deck himself so. Suddenly the mask 
 turned round and showed us M. de Luxembourg. The 
 burst of laughter at this was scandalous. Good M. de 
 Luxembourg, who never was very remarkable for wit, 
 benignly took all this laughter as having been excited 
 simply by the singularity of his costume, and to the 
 questions addressed him, replied quite simply that his 
 dress had been arranged by M. le Prince ; then, turn- 
 ing to the right and to the left, he admired himself and 
 strutted with pleasure at having been masqued by 
 M. le Prince. In a moment more the ladies arrived, 
 and the King immediately after them. The laughter 
 commenced anew as loudly as ever, and M. de Luxem- 
 bourg presented himself to the company with a confi- 
 dence that was ravishing. His wife had heard nothing 
 of this masquerading, and when she saw it, lost counte- 
 nance, brazen as she was. Everybody stared at her 
 and her husband, and seemed dying of laughter. M. 
 le Prince looked at the scene from behind the King, 
 and inwardly laughed at his malicious trick. This 
 amusement lasted throughout all the ball, and the King, 
 self-contained as he usually was, laughed also ; people 
 were never tired of admiring an invention so cruelly 
 ridiculous, and spoke of it for several days. 
 
 No evening passed on which there was not a ball. 
 The chancellor's wife gave one which was a fete the 
 most gallant and the most magnificent possible. There 
 were different rooms for the fancy dress ball, for the 
 
 p 2
 
 212 TREMENDOUS DANCING. 
 
 masqueraders, for a superb collation, for shops of all 
 countries, Chinese, Japanese, &c., where many singular 
 and beautiful things were sold, but no money taken ; 
 they were presents for the Duchesse de Bourgogne 
 and the ladies. Everybody was especially diverted at 
 this entertainment, which did not finish until eight 
 o'clock in the morning. Madame de Saint Simon and 
 I passed the last three weeks of this time without ever 
 seeing the day. Certain dancers were only allowed to 
 leave off dancing at the same time as the Duchesse de 
 Bourgogne. One morning, at Marly, wishing to 
 escape too early, the Duchesse caused me to be forbidden 
 to pass the doors of the salon ; several of us had the 
 same fate. I was delighted when Ash Wednesday 
 arrived ; and I remained a daj r or two dead beat, and 
 Madame de Saint Simon could not get over Shrove 
 Tuesday. 
 
 La Bourlie, brother of Guiscard, after having quitted 
 the service, had retired to his estate near Cevennes, 
 where he led a life of much licence. About this time 
 a robbery was committed in his house ; he suspected 
 one of the servants, and on his own authority put the 
 man to the torture. This circumstance could not 
 remain so secret but that complaints spread abroad. 
 The offence was a capital one. La Bourlie fled from 
 the realm, and did many strange things until his death, 
 which was still more strange ; but of which it is not 
 yet time to speak. 
 
 Madame la Duchesse, whose heavy tradesmen's debts 
 the King had paid not long since, had not dared to 
 speak of her gambling debts, also very heavy. They
 
 FORTUNES OF LANGLEE. 213 
 
 increased, and, entirely unable to pay them, she found 
 herself in the greatest embarrassment. She feared, 
 above all tilings, lest M. le Prince, or M. le Due 
 should hear of this. In this extremity she addressed 
 herself to Madame de Maintenon, laying bare the 
 state of her finances, without the slightest disguise. 
 Madame de Maintenon had pity on her situation and 
 arranged that the King should pay her debts, abstain 
 from scolding her, and keep her secret. Thus, in a 
 few weeks, Madame la Duchesse found herself free of 
 debts, without anybody whom she feared having 
 known even of their existence. 
 
 Langlee was entrusted with the payment and arrange- 
 ment of these debts. He was a singular kind of man 
 at the Court, and deserves a word. Born of obscure 
 parents, who had enriched themselves, he had early 
 been introduced into the great world, and had devoted 
 himself to play, gaining an immense fortune; but 
 without being accused of the least unfairness. With 
 but little or no wit, but much knowledge of the world, he 
 had succeeded in securing many friends, and in making 
 his way at the Court. He joined in all the King's 
 parties, at the time of his mistresses. Similarity 
 of tastes attached Langlee to Monsieur, but he never 
 lost sight of the King. At all the fetes Langlee was 
 present, he took part in the journeys, he was invited 
 to Marly, was intimate with all the King's mistresses ; 
 then with all the daughters of the King, with whom 
 indeed he was so familiar that he often spoke to them 
 with the utmost freedom. He had become such a 
 master of fashions and of fetes that none of the latter
 
 214 LANGLEE'S COARSENESS. 
 
 were given, even by Princes of the blood, except under 
 his directions ; and no houses were bought, built, fur- 
 nished, or ornamented, without his taste being consulted. 
 There were no marriages of which the dresses and the 
 presents were not chosen, or at least approved, by him. 
 He was on intimate terms with the most distinguished 
 people of the court ; and often took improper advan- 
 tage of his position. To the daughters of the King 
 and to a number of female friends he said horribly 
 filthy things, and that too in their own houses, at 
 St. Cloud or at Marly. He was often made a confidant 
 in matters of gallantry, and continued to be made so 
 all his life. For he was a sure man, had nothing 
 disagreeable about him, was obliging, always ready to 
 serve others with his purse or his influence, and was 
 on bad terms with no one. 
 
 While everybody, during all this winter was at balls 
 and amusements, the beautiful Madame de Soubise 
 for she was so still employed herself with more serious 
 matters. She had just bought, very cheap, the 
 immense hotel of Guise, that the King assisted her 
 to pay for. Assisted also by the King, she took 
 steps to make her bastard son canon of Strasbourg ; 
 intrigued so well that his birth was made to pass 
 muster, although among Germans there is a great horror 
 of illegitimacy, and he was received into the chapter. 
 This point gained, she laid her plans for carrying out 
 another, and a higher one, nothing less than that of 
 making her son Archbishop of Strasbourg. 
 
 But there was an obstacle in the way. This ob- 
 stacle was the Abbe d'Auvergne (nephew of Cardinal
 
 THE ABB DE SOUBISE. 215 
 
 de Bouillon), who had the highest position in the 
 chapter, that of Grand Prevot, had been there much 
 longer than the Abbe de Soubise, was older, and of 
 more consequence. His reputation, hoAvever, was 
 against him ; his habits were publicly known to be 
 those of the Greeks, whilst his intellect resembled 
 theirs in no way. By his stupidity he published his 
 bad conduct, his perfect ignorance, his dissipation, 
 his ambition ; and to sustain himself he had only a 
 low, stinking, continual vanity, which drew upon him 
 as much disdain as did his habits, alienated him from 
 all the world, and constantly subjected him to 
 ridicule. 
 
 The Abbe de Soubise had, on the contrary, every- 
 thing smiling in his favour, even his exterior, which 
 showed that he was born of the tenderest amours. 
 Upon the forms of the Sorbonne he had much dis- 
 tinguished himself. He had been made Prior of 
 Sorbonne, and had shone conspicuously in that 
 position, gaining eulogies of the most flattering kind 
 from everybody, and highly pleasing the King. After 
 this, he entered the seminary of Saint Magloire, then 
 much in vogue, and gained the good graces of the 
 Archbishop of Paris, by whom that seminary was 
 favoured. On every side the Abbe de Soubise was 
 regarded, either as a marvel of learning, or a miracle 
 of piety and purity of manners. He had made him- 
 self loved everywhere, and his gentleness, his politeness, 
 his intelligence, his graces, and his talent for securing 
 friends, confirmed more and more the reputation he 
 had established.
 
 216 THE CARDINAL DE FURSTEMBERG. 
 
 The Abbe d'Auvergne had a relative, the Cardinal 
 de Furstemberg, who also had two nephews, canons of 
 Strasbourg, and in a position to become claimants to 
 the bishopric. Madame de Soubise rightly thought 
 that her first step must be to gain over the Cardinal to 
 her side. There was a channel through which this could 
 be done which at once suggested itself to her mind. 
 Cardinal Furstemberg, it was said, had been much en- 
 amoured of the Comtesse de La Marck, and had married 
 her to one of his nephews, in order that he might thus 
 see her more easily. It was also said that he had 
 been well treated, and it is certain that nothing was 
 so striking as the resemblance, feature for feature, of 
 the Comte de La Marck to Cardinal de Furstem- 
 berg. If the Comte was not the son of the Cardinal 
 he was nothing to him. The attachment of Cardinal 
 Furstemberg for the Comtesse de La Marck did not 
 abate when she became by her marriage Comtesse de 
 Furstemberg ; indeed he could not exist without her ; 
 she lived and reigned in his house. Her son, the Comte 
 de La Marck lived there also, and her dominion over 
 the Cardinal was so public, that whoever had affairs 
 with him spoke to the Comtesse, if he wished to succeed. 
 She had been very beautiful, and at fifty-two years of 
 age, still showed it, although tall, stout, and coarse 
 featured as a Swiss guard in woman's clothes. She 
 was, moreover, bold, audacious, talking loudly and 
 always with authority ; was polished, however, and of 
 good manners when she pleased. Being the most 
 imperious woman in the world, the Cardinal was fairly 
 tied to her apron-strings, and scarcely dared to breathe
 
 BUYING A CARDINAL. 217 
 
 in her presence. In dress and finery she spent like a 
 prodigal, played every night, and lost large sums, 
 oftentimes staking her jewels and her various orna- 
 ments. She was a woman who loved herself alone, 
 who wished for everything, and who refused herself 
 nothing, not even, it was said, certain gallantries 
 which the poor Cardinal was obliged to pay for, as for 
 everything else. Her extravagance was such, that 
 she was obliged to pass six or seven months of the 
 year in the country, in order to have enough to spend 
 in Paris during the remainder of the year. 
 
 It was to the Comtesse de Furstemberg, therefore, 
 that Madame de Soubise addressed herself in order to 
 gain over the support of Cardinal de Furstemberg, in 
 behalf of her son. Rumour said, and it was never 
 contradicted, that Madame de Soubise paid much 
 money to the Cardinal through the Comtesse, in order 
 to carry this point. It is certain that in addition to 
 the prodigious pensions the Cardinal drew from the 
 King, he touched at this time a gratification of forty- 
 thousand crowns, that it was pretended had been long 
 promised him. 
 
 Madame de Soubise having thus assured herself of 
 the Comtesse and the Cardinal (and they having been 
 privately thanked by the King), she caused an order 
 to be sent to Cardinal de Bouillon, who was then at 
 Rome, requesting him to ask the Pope in the name of 
 the King, for a bull summoning the Chapter of Stras- 
 bourg to meet and elect a coadjutor and a declaration 
 of the eligibility of the Abbe de Soubise. 
 
 But here a new obstacle arose in the path of Madame
 
 218 ANGER OF CARDINAL DE BOUILLON. 
 
 de Soubise. Cardinal de Bouillon, a man of excessive 
 pride and pretension, who upon reaching Rome 
 claimed to be addressed as "Most Eminent Highness," 
 and obtaining this title from nobody except his ser- 
 vants, set himself at loggerheads with all the city 
 Cardinal de Bouillon, I say, was himself canon of 
 Strasbourg, and uncle of the Abbe d'Auvergne. So 
 anxious w r as the Cardinal to secure the advancement 
 of the Abbe d'Auvergne, that he had already made a 
 daring and fraudulent attempt to procure for him a 
 cardinalship. But the false representations which he 
 made in order to carry his point, having been seen 
 through, his attempt came to nothing, and he himself 
 lost all favour with the King for his deceit. He, how- 
 ever, hoped to make the Abbe d'Auvergne bishop of 
 Strasbourg, and was overpowered, therefore, when he 
 saw this magnificent prey about to escape him. The 
 news came" upon him like a thunderbolt. It was bad 
 enough to see his hopes trampled under foot; it 
 was insupportable to be obliged to aid in crushing 
 them. Vexation so transported and blinded him, that 
 he forgot the relative positions of himself and of 
 Madame de Soubise, and imagined that he should be 
 able to make the King break a resolution he had 
 taken, and an engagement he had entered into. He 
 sent therefore, as though he had been a great man, a 
 letter to the King, telling him that he had not thought 
 sufficiently upon this matter, and raising scruples 
 against it. At the same time he despatched a letter to 
 the canons of Strasbourg, full of gall and compliments, 
 trying to persuade them that the Abbe de Soubise was
 
 THE DOOR OF THE KING'S CABINET. 219 
 
 too young for the honour intended him, and plainly 
 intimating that the Cardinal de Furstemberg had been 
 gained over by a heavy bribe paid to the Comtesse 
 de Furstemberg. These letters made a terrible up- 
 roar. 
 
 I was at the palace on Tuesday, March 30th, and 
 after supper I saw Madame de Soubise arrive, leading 
 the Comtesse de Furstemberg, both of whom posted 
 themselves at the door of the King's cabinet. It was 
 not that Madame de Soubise had not the privilege of 
 entering if she pleased, but she preferred making her 
 complaint as public as the charges made against her 
 by Cardinal de Bouillon had become. I approached 
 in order to witness the scene. Madame de Soubise ap- 
 peared scarcely able to contain herself, and the Comtesse 
 seemed furious. As the King passed, they stopped 
 him. Madame de Soubise said two words in a low 
 tone. The Comtesse in a louder strain demanded 
 justice against the Cardinal de Bouillon, who, she said, 
 not content in his pride and ambition with disre- 
 garding the orders of the King, had calumniated her 
 and Cardinal de Furstemberg in the most atrocious 
 manner, and had not even spared Madame de 
 Soubise, herself. The King replied to her with much 
 politeness, assured her she should be contented, and 
 passed on. 
 
 Madame de Soubise was so much the more piqued 
 because Cardinal de Bouillon had acquainted the King 
 with the simony she had committed, and assuredly if 
 he had not been ignorant of this he would never have 
 supported her in the affair. She hastened therefore to
 
 220 DISGRACE OF CARDINAL DE BOUILLON. 
 
 secure the success of her son, and was so well served 
 by the whispered authority of the King, and the money 
 she had spent, that the Abbe de Soubise, was elected 
 by unanimity Coadjutor of Strasbourg. 
 
 As for the Cardinal de Bouillon, foiled in all 
 his attempts to prevent the election, he wrote a second 
 letter to the King, more foolish than the first. This 
 filled the cup to overflowing. For reply he received 
 orders, by a courier, to quit Rome immediately and to 
 retire to Cluni or to Tournus, at his choice, until 
 further orders. This order appeared so cruel to him 
 that he could not make up his mind to obey. He 
 was under-doyen of the sacred college. Cibo, the doyen, 
 was no longer able to leave his bed. To become doyen, 
 it was necessary to be in Rome when the appointment 
 became vacant. Cardinal de Bouillon wrote therefore 
 to the King, begging to be allowed to stay a short 
 time, in order to pray the Pope to set aside this 
 rule, and give him permission to succeed to the 
 doyenship, even although absent from Rome when it 
 became vacant. He knew he should not obtain this 
 permission, but he asked for it in order to gain time, 
 hoping that in the meanwhile Cardinal Cibo might 
 die, or even the Pope himself, whose health had been 
 threatened with ruin for some time. This request of 
 the Cardinal de Bouillon was refused. There seemed 
 nothing for him but to comply with the orders he had 
 received. But he had evaded them so long that he 
 thought he might continue to do so. He wrote to 
 Pere la Chaise, begging him to ask the King for 
 permission to remain at Rome until the death of
 
 HIS OBSTINACY. 
 
 Cardinal Cibo, adding that lie would wait for a reply 
 at Caprarole, a magnificent house of the Duke of 
 Parma, at eight leagues from Rome. He addressed 
 himself to Pere la Chaise, because M. de Torcy, to 
 whom he had previously written, had been forbidden 
 to open his letters, and had sent him word to that 
 effect. Having, too, been always on the best of terms 
 with the Jesuits, he hoped for good assistance from 
 Pere la Chaise. But he found this door closed 
 like that of M. de Torcy. Pere la Chaise wrote to 
 Cardinal de Bouillon that he too was prohibited from 
 opening his letters. At the same time a new order 
 was sent to the Cardinal to set out immediately. 
 Just after he had read it Cardinal Cibo died, and the 
 Cardinal de Bouillon hastened at once to Borne to 
 secure the doyenship, writing to the King to say that 
 he had done so, that he would depart in twenty-four 
 hours, and expressing a hope that this delay would 
 not be refused him. This was laughing at the King 
 and his orders, and becoming doyen in spite of him. The 
 King, therefore, displayed his anger immediately he 
 learnt this last act of disobedience. He sent word 
 immediately to M. de Monaco to command the Cardinal 
 de Bouillon to surrender his charge of grand chaplain, 
 to give up his cordon bleu, and to take down the arms 
 of France from the door of his palace ; M. de Monaco 
 was also ordered to prohibit all French people in Rome 
 from seeing Cardinal de Bouillon, or from having any 
 communication with him. M. de Monaco, who hated 
 the Cardinal, hastened willingly to obey these instruc- 
 tions. The Cardinal appeared overwhelmed, but he
 
 222 THE CARDINAL CLINGS TO HIS DISTINCTIONS. 
 
 did not even then give in. He pretended that his 
 charge of grand chaplain was a crown office, of which 
 he could not be dispossessed, without resigning. The 
 King, out of all patience with a disobedience so 
 stubborn and so marked, ordered, by a decree in 
 council, on the 12th September, the seizure of all the 
 Cardinal's estates, laical and ecclesiastical, the latter 
 to be confiscated to the state, the former to be 
 divided into three portions, and applied to various 
 uses. The same day the charge of grand chaplain 
 was given to Cardinal Coislin, and that of chief 
 chaplain to the Bishop of Metz. The despair of the 
 Cardinal de Bouillon, on hearing of this decree, was 
 extreme. Pride had hitherto hindered him from 
 believing that matters would be pushed so far against 
 him. He sent in his resignation only when it was no 
 longer needed of him. His order he would not give 
 up. M. de Monaco warned him that, in case of 
 refusal, he had orders to snatch it from his neck. 
 Upon this the Cardinal saw the folly of holding out 
 against the orders of the King. He quitted then the 
 marks of the order, but he was pitj^ful enough to 
 wear a narrow blue ribbon, with a cross of gold 
 attached, under his cassock, and tried from time to time 
 to show a little of the blue. A short time afterwards, 
 to make the best of a bad bargain, he tried to persuade 
 himself and others, that no cardinal was at liberty to 
 wear the orders of any prince. But it was rather 
 late in the day to think of this, after having worn the 
 order of the King for thirty years, as grand chaplain ; 
 and everybody thought so, and laughed at the idea.
 
 A MARRIAGE BARGAIN. 223 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A Marriage Bargain Mademoiselle de Mailly James II. begging Cham- 
 pagne A Duel Death of Le Notre His Character History ot 
 Vassor Comtesse de Verrue and her Romance with M. de Savoie 
 A Race of Dwarfs An indecorous Incident Death of M. de La 
 Trappe. 
 
 CHATEAUNEUF, Secretary of State, died about this 
 time. He had asked that his son, La Vrilliere, might 
 be allowed to succeed him, and was much vexed that 
 the King refused this favour. The news of Chateau- 
 neuf s death was brought to La Vrilliere by a courier, 
 at five o'clock in the morning. He did not lose his 
 wits at the news, but at once sent and woke up the 
 Princesse d'Harcourt, and begged her to come and see 
 him instantly. Opening his purse, he prayed her to 
 go and see Madame de Maintenon as soon as she got 
 up, and propose his marriage with Mademoiselle de 
 Mailly, whom he would take without dowry, if the 
 King gave him his father's appointments. The 
 Princesse d'Harcourt, whose habit it. was to accept 
 any sum, from a crown upwards, willingly undertook 
 this strange business. She went upon her errand 
 immediately, and then repaired to Madame de Mailly, 
 who without property, and burdened with a troop of 
 children sons and daughters was in no way adverse 
 to the marriage.
 
 22 4 MADEMOISELLE DE MAILLY. 
 
 The King, upon getting up, was duly made ac- 
 quainted with La Vrilliere 's proposal, and at once 
 agreed to it. There was only one person opposed 
 to the marriage, and that was Mademoiselle de Mailly. 
 She was not quite twelve years of age. She burst 
 out a crying, and declared she was very unhappy, that 
 she would not mind marrying a poor man, if necessary, 
 provided he was a gentleman, but that to marry a 
 paltry bourgeois, in order to make his fortune, was 
 odious to her. She was furious against her mother, 
 and against Madame de Maintenon. She could not 
 be kept quiet or appeased, or hindered from making 
 grimaces at La Vrilliere and all his family, who came 
 to see her and her mother. They felt it; but the 
 bargain was made, and was too good to be broken. 
 They thought Mademoiselle de Mailly's annoyance 
 would pass with her youth but they were mistaken. 
 Mademoiselle de Mailly always was sore at having 
 been made Madame de la Vrilliere, and people often 
 observed it. 
 
 At the marriage of Monseigneur the Due de Bour- 
 gogne, the King had offered to augment considerably 
 his monthly income. The young Prince, who found 
 it sufficient, replied with thanks, and said that if 
 money failed him at any time he would take the liberty 
 of asking the King for more. Finding himself short 
 just now, he was as good as his word. The King 
 praised him highly, and told him to ask whenever he 
 wanted money, not through a third person, but direct, 
 as he had done in this instance. The King, moreover, 
 told the Due de Bourgogne to play without fear, for
 
 A PRESENT OF CHAMPAGNE. 225 
 
 it was of no consequence how much such persons as 
 he might lose. The King was pleased with confidence, 
 but liked not the less to see himself feared; and when 
 timid people who spoke to him discovered them- 
 selves, and grew embarrassed in their discourse, 
 nothing better made their court, or advanced their 
 interests. 
 
 The Archbishop of Eheims presided this year over 
 the assembly of the clergy, which was held every five 
 years. It took place on this occasion at Saint Ger- 
 main, although the King of England occupied the 
 chateau. M. de Eheims kept open table there, and 
 had some champagne that was much vaunted. The 
 King of England, who drank scarcely any other wine, 
 heard of this and asked for some. The Archbishop 
 sent him six bottles. Some time after, the King of 
 England, who had much relished the wine, sent and 
 asked for more. The Archbishop, more sparing of 
 his wine than of his money, bluntly sent word that 
 his wine was not mad, and did not run through the 
 streets ; and sent none. However accustomed people 
 might be to the rudeness of the Archbishop, this 
 appeared so strange that it was much spoken of : but 
 that was all. 
 
 M. de Vendome took another public leave of the 
 King, the Princes, and the Princesses, in order to place 
 himself again under the doctor's hands. He per- 
 ceived at last that he was not cured, and that it would 
 be long before he was ; so went to Anet to try and 
 recover his health, but without success better than 
 before. He brought back a face upon which his state
 
 226 A DUEL. 
 
 was still more plainly printed than at first. Madame 
 d'Uzes, only daughter of the Prince de Monaco, died 
 of this disease. She was a woman of merit very 
 virtuous and unhappy who merited a hetter fate. 
 M. d'Uzes was an obscure man, who frequented the 
 lowest society, and suffered less from its effects than 
 his wife, who was much pitied and regretted. Her 
 children perished of the same disease, and she left 
 none behind her. 
 
 Soon after this the King ordered the Comtes d'Uzes 
 and d'Albert to go to the Conciergerie for having 
 fought a duel against the Comtes de Rontzau, a Dane, 
 and Schwartzenberg, an Austrian. Uzes gave himself 
 up, but the Comte d'Albert did not do so for a long 
 time, and was broken for his disobedience. He had 
 been on more than good terms with Madame de Luxem- 
 bourg the Comte de Rontzau also : hence the quarrel ; 
 the cause of which was known by everybody, and made 
 a great stir. Everybody knew it, at least, except M. de 
 Luxembourg. He was the only one in ignorance of it ; 
 and yet in every direction he asked the reason ; but, as 
 may be imagined, could find nobody to tell him ; so that 
 he went over and over again to M. le Prince de Conti, 
 his most intimate friend, praying him for information 
 upon the subject. M. de Conti related to me that on 
 one occasion, coming from Meudon, he was so solicited 
 by M. de Luxembourg on this account, that he was 
 completely embarrassed, and never suffered to such an 
 extent in all his life. He contrived to put off M. de 
 Luxembourg, and said nothing, but was glad indeed to 
 get away from him at the end of the journey.
 
 LE NOTRE, THE GARDENER. 227 
 
 Le Notre died about this time, after having been 
 eighty- eight years in perfect health, and with all his 
 faculties and good taste to the very last. He was 
 illustrious, as having been the first designer of those 
 beautiful gardens which adorn France, and which, 
 indeed, have so much surpassed the gardens of Italy, 
 that the most famous masters of that country come 
 here to admire and learn. Le Notre had a probity, 
 an exactitude, and an uprightness which made him 
 esteemed and loved by everybody. He never forgot his 
 position, and was always perfectly disinterested. He 
 worked for private people as for the King, and with the 
 same application seeking only to aid nature, and to 
 attain the beautiful by the shortest road. He was of 
 a charming simplicity and truthfulness. The Pope 
 upon one occasion, begged the King to lend him Le 
 Notre for some months. On entering the Pope's 
 chamber, instead of going down upon his knees, Le 
 Notre ran to the Holy Father, clasped him round the 
 neck, kissed him on the two cheeks, and said " Good 
 morning, Reverend Father; how well you look, and 
 how glad I am to see you in such good health/' 
 
 The Pope, who was Clement X., Altieri, burst out 
 laughing with all his might. He was delighted with 
 this odd salutation, and showed his friendship towards 
 the Gardener in a thousand ways. Upon Le Notre's 
 return, the King led him into the gardens of Ver- 
 sailles, and showed him what had been done in his 
 absence. About the Colonnade he said nothing, The 
 King pressed him to give his opinion thereupon. 
 
 " Why sire," said Le Notre, " what can I say? Of a
 
 228 ANECDOTES OF LE NOTRE. 
 
 mason you have made a gardener, and he has given you 
 a sample of his trade." 
 
 The King kept silence and everybody laughed ; and 
 it was true that this morsel of architecture, which was 
 anything hut a fountain, and yet which was intended 
 to be one, was much out of place in a garden. A month 
 before Le Notre's death, the King who liked to see 
 him and to make him talk, led him into the gardens, 
 and on account of his great age, placed him in a wheeled 
 chair, by the side of his own. Upon this Le Notre 
 said, " Ah, my poor father, if you were living and could 
 see a simple gardener like me, your son, wheeled along 
 in a chair by the side of the greatest King in the world, 
 nothing would be wanting to my joy!" 
 
 Le Notre was Overseer of the Public Buildings, and 
 lodged at the Tuileries, the garden of which (his design), 
 together with the Palace, being under his charge. All 
 that he did is still much superior to everything that has 
 been done since, whatever care may have been taken 
 to imitate and follow him as closely as possible. He 
 used to say of flower-beds that they were only good for 
 nurses, who, not being able to quit the children, walked 
 on them with their eyes, and admired them from the 
 second floor. He excelled nevertheless in flower-beds, 
 as in everything concerning gardens ; but he made 
 little account of them, and he was right, for they are 
 the spots upon which people never walk. 
 
 The King of England (William III.) lost the Duke 
 of Gloucester, heir presumptive to the crown. He 
 was eleven years of age, and was the only son of the 
 Princess of Denmark, sister of the defunct Queen
 
 LIFE OF VASSOR. 
 
 Mary, wife of William. His preceptor was Doctor 
 Burnet, bishop of Salisbury, who was in the secret of the 
 invasion, and who passed into England with the Prince 
 of Orange at the Revolution, of which Revolution he has 
 left a very fraudulent history, and many other works of 
 as little truth and good faith. The under preceptor 
 was the famous Vassor, author of the "History of 
 Louis XIII.," which would be read with more pleasure 
 if there were less spite against the Catholic religion, 
 and less passion against the King. With those ex- 
 ceptions it is excellent and true. Vassor must have 
 been singularly well informed of the anecdotes that he 
 relates, and which escape almost all historians. I have 
 found there, for instance, the Day of the Dupes related 
 precisely as my father has related it to me, and several 
 other curious things not less exact. This author has 
 made such a stir that it is worth while to say something 
 about him. He was a priest of the Oratory, and in 
 much estimation as a man whose manners were without 
 reproach. After a time, however, he was found to have 
 disclosed a secret that had been entrusted to him, and 
 to have acted the spy on behalf of the Jesuits. The 
 proofs of his treason were found upon his table, and 
 were so conclusive that there was nothing for him but 
 to leave the Oratory. He did so, and being deserted 
 by his Jesuit employers, threw himself into La Trappe. 
 But he did not enter the place in a proper spirit, and 
 in a few days withdrew. After this he went to the 
 Abbey of Perseigne, hired a lodging there, and remained 
 several months. But he was continually at loggerheads 
 with the monks. Their garden was separated from
 
 230 STORY OF MADAME DE VERRUE 
 
 his only by a thick hedge ; their fowls could jump over 
 it. He laid the blame upon the monks, and one day 
 caught as many of their fowls as he could ; cut off their 
 beaks and their spurs with a cleaver, and threw them 
 back again over the hedge. This was cruelty so marked 
 that I could not refrain from relating it. 
 
 Vassor did not long remain in this retreat, but re- 
 turned to Paris, and still being unable to gain a living, 
 passed into Holland, from rage and hunger became a 
 Protestant, and set himself to work to live by his pen. 
 His knowledge, talent, and intelligence, procured him 
 many friends, and his reputation reached England, into 
 which country he passed, hoping to gain there more 
 fortune than in Holland. Burnet received him with 
 open arms, and obtained for him the post of under 
 preceptor to the Duke of Gloucester. It would have 
 been difficult to have found two instructors so opposed 
 to the Catholics and to France, or so well suited to the 
 King as teachers of his successor. 
 
 Among so many things which paved the way for the 
 greatest events, a very strange one happened, which 
 from its singularity merits a short recital. For many 
 years the Comtesse de Verrue lived at Turin, mistress, 
 publicly, of M. de Savoie. The Comtesse de Verrue 
 was daughter of the Due de Luynes, and had been 
 married in Piedmont, when she was only fourteen years 
 of age, to the Comte de Verrue, young, handsome, rich, 
 and honest; whose mother was lady of honour to 
 Madame de Savoie. 
 
 M. de Savoie often met the Comtesse de Verrue, and 
 soon found her much to his taste. She saw this, and
 
 AND M. DE SAVOIE. 231 
 
 said so to her husband and her mother-in-law. They 
 praised her, but took no further notice of the matter. 
 M. de Savoie redoubled his attentions, and, contrary to 
 his usual custom, gave fetes, which the Comtesse de 
 Verrue felt were for her. She did all she could not to 
 attend them, but her mother-in-law quarrelled with 
 her, said she wished to play the important, and that it 
 was her vanity which gave her these ideas. Her hus- 
 band, more gentle, desired her to attend these fetes, 
 saying that even if M. de Savoie were really in love with 
 her, it would not do to fail in anything towards him. 
 Soon after M. de Savoie spoke to the Comtesse de 
 Verrue. She told her husband and her mother-in-law, 
 and used every entreaty in order to prevail upon them 
 to let her go and pass some time in the country. They 
 would not listen to her, and seeing no other course 
 open, she feigned to be ill, and had herself sent to the 
 waters of Bourbon. She wrote to her father, the Due de 
 Luynes, to meet her there, and set out under the charge 
 of the Abbe de Verrue, uncle of her husband. As 
 soon as the Due de Luynes arrived at Bourbon, and 
 became acquainted with the danger which threatened his 
 daughter, he conferred with the Abbe as to the best course 
 to adopt, and agreed with him that the Comtesse should 
 remain away from Turin some time, in order that M. de 
 Savoie might get cured of his passion. M. de Luynes 
 little thought that he had conferred with a wolf who 
 wished to carry off his lamb. The Abbe de Verrue, it 
 seems, was himself violently in love with the Comtesse, 
 and directly her father had gone declared the state of his 
 heart. Finding himself only repulsed, the miserable old
 
 232 FATE OF MADAME DE VERRUE. 
 
 man turned his love into hate, ill-treated the Comtesse, 
 and upon her return to Turin, lost no opportunity of injur- 
 ing her in the eyes of her husband and her mother-in-law. 
 
 The Comtesse de Verrue suffered this for some time, 
 but at last her virtue yielded to the bad treatment she 
 received. She listened to M. de Savoie, and delivered 
 herself up to him in order to free herself from perse- 
 cution. Is not this a real romance ? But it happened 
 in our own time, under the eyes and to the knowledge 
 of everybody. 
 
 When the truth became known, the Verrues were in 
 despair, although they had only themselves to blame 
 for what had happened. Soon the new mistress ruled 
 all the Court of Savoy, whose sovereign was at her feet 
 as before a goddess. She disposed of the favours of 
 her lover, and was feared and courted by the ministry. 
 Her haughtiness made her hated ; she was poisoned ; M. 
 de Savoie gave her a subtle antidote, which fortunately 
 cured her, and without injury to her beauty. Her reign 
 still lasted. After a while she had the small pox. M. 
 de Savoie tended her during this illness, as though he 
 had been a nurse ; and although her face suffered a little 
 by it, he loved her not the less. But he loved her 
 after his own fashion. He kept her shut up from 
 view, and at last she grew so tired of her restraint 
 that she determined to fly. She conferred with her 
 brother the Chevalier de Luynes, who served with much 
 distinction in the navy, and together they arranged the 
 matter. 
 
 They seized an opportunity when M. de Savoie had 
 gone on a tour to Chambery, and departed furtively.
 
 A DWARF FAMILY. 233 
 
 Crossing our frontier, they arrived in Paris, where the 
 Comtesse de Verrue, who had grown very rich, took 
 a house, and by degrees succeeded in getting people 
 to come and see her, though at first, owing to the 
 scandal of her life, this was difficult. In the end her 
 opulence gained her a large number of friends, and 
 she availed herself so well of her opportunities, that 
 she became of much importance, and influenced 
 strongly the government. But that time goes beyond 
 my memoirs. She left in Turin a son and a daughter, 
 both recognised by M. de Savoie, after the manner of 
 our King. He loved passionately these illegitimate 
 children, and married the daughter to the Prince de 
 Carignan. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Conde died at Paris on October 
 24th, after a long illness, from a disease in the chest, 
 which consumed her less than the torments she expe- 
 rienced without end from M. le Prince, her father, 
 whose continual caprices were the plague of all those 
 over whom he could exercise them. Almost all the 
 children of M. le Prince were little bigger than 
 dwarfs, which caused M. le Prince, who was tall, to 
 say in pleasantry, that if his race went on always thus 
 diminishing it would come to nothing. People attri- 
 buted the cause to a dwarf that Madame La Princesse 
 had had for a long time near her. 
 
 At the funeral of Mademoiselle de Conde, a very 
 indecorous incident happened. My mother, who was 
 invited to take part in the ceremony, went to the 
 Hotel de Conde, in a coach and six horses, to join 
 Mademoiselle d'Enghien. When the procession was
 
 234 A QUARREL AT A FUNERAL. 
 
 about to start the Duchesse de Chatillon tried to take 
 precedence of my mother. But my mother called upon 
 Mademoiselle d'Enghien to prevent this, or else to 
 allow her to return. Madame de Chatillon persisted 
 in her attempt, saying that relationship decided the 
 question of precedence on these occasions, and that 
 she was a nearer relative to the deceased than my 
 mother. My mother, in a cold but haughty tone, 
 replied that she could pardon this mistake on account 
 of the youth and ignorance of Madame de Chatillon; 
 but that in all such cases it was rank and not relation- 
 ship which decided the point. The dispute was at 
 last put an end to by Madame de Chatillon giving 
 way. But when the procession started an attempt 
 was made by her coachman to drive before the coach 
 of my mother, and one of the company had to descend 
 and decide the dispute. On the morrow M. le Prince 
 sent to apologise to my mother for the occurrence 
 that had taken place, and came himself shortly after- 
 wards full of compliments and excuses. I never 
 could understand what induced Madame de Chatillon 
 to take this fancy into her head ; but she was much 
 ashamed of it afterwards, and made many excuses to 
 my mother. 
 
 I experienced, shortly after this, at Fontainebleau, 
 one of the greatest afflictions I had ever endured. I 
 mean the loss of M. de La Trappe. These Memoirs 
 are too profane to treat slightly of a life so sublimely 
 holy, and of a death so glorious and precious before 
 God. I will content myself with saying here that 
 praises of M. de La Trappe were so much the more
 
 DEATH OF M. DE LA TRAPPE. 235 
 
 great and prolonged because the King eulogised him 
 in public ; that he wished to see narrations of his 
 death ; and that he spoke more than once of it to 
 his grandsons by way of instruction. In every part 
 of Europe this great loss was severely felt. The 
 church wept for him, and the world even rendered 
 him justice. His death, so happy for him and so 
 sad for his friends, happened on the 26th of October, 
 towards half-past twelve, in the arms of his bishop, and 
 in presence of his community, at the age of nearly 
 seventy- seven years, and after nearly forty years of 
 the most prodigious penance. I cannot omit, however, 
 the most touching and the most honourable mark of 
 his friendship. Lying upon the ground, on straw and 
 ashes, in order to die like all the brethren of La 
 Trappe, he deigned, of his own accord, to recollect me, 
 and charged the Abbe de La Trappe to send word to me, 
 on his part, that as he was quite sure of my affection 
 for him, he reckoned that I should not doubt of his 
 tenderness for me. I check myself at this point; 
 everything I could add would be too much out of 
 place here.
 
 236 THE SPANISH SUCCESSION. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Settlement of the Spanish Succession King William III. New Party in 
 Spain Their attack on the Queen Perplexity of the King His 
 Will Scene at the Palace News sent to France Council at Madame 
 de Maintenon's The King's Decision A Public Declaration Treat- 
 ment of the new King His Departure for Spain Reflections 
 Philip V. arrives in Spain The Queen Dowager Banished. 
 
 FOR the last two or three years the King of Spain had 
 been in very weak health, and in danger of his life 
 several times. He had no children, and no hope of 
 having any. The question, therefore, of the succession 
 to his vast empire began now to agitate every European 
 Court. The King of England (William III.), who, since 
 his usurpation had much augmented his credit by the 
 grand alliance he had formed against France, and of 
 which he had been the soul and the chief up to the 
 peace of Ryswick, undertook to arrange this question 
 in a manner that should prevent war when the King of 
 Spain died. His plan was to give Spain, the Indies, 
 the Low Countries, and the title of King of Spain to 
 the Archduke, second son of the Emperor ; Guipuscoa, 
 Naples, Sicily, and Lorraine to France ; and the 
 Milanese to M. de Lorraine, as compensation for taking 
 away from him his territory. 
 
 The King of England made this proposition first of 
 all to our King ; who, tired of war, and anxious for 
 repose, as was natural at his age, made few difficulties,
 
 PLAN OP KING WILLIAM. 237 
 
 and soon accepted. M. de Lorraine was not in a posi- 
 tion to refuse his consent to a change recommended 
 by England, France, and Holland. Thus much being 
 settled, the Emperor was next applied to. But he was 
 not so easy to persuade : he wished to inherit the 
 entire succession, and would not brook the idea of 
 seeing the House of Austria driven from Italy, as it 
 would have been if the King of England's proposal had 
 been carried out. He therefore declared it was alto- 
 gether unheard of and unnatural to divide a succession 
 under such circumstances, and that he would hear 
 nothing upon the subject until after the death of the 
 King of Spain. The resistance he made caused the 
 whole scheme to come to the ears of the King of Spain, 
 instead of remaining a secret, as was intended. 
 
 The King of Spain made a great stir in consequence 
 of what had taken place, as though the project had 
 been formed to strip him, during his lifetime, of his 
 realm. His ambassador in England spoke so in- 
 solently, that he was ordered to leave the country by 
 William, and retired to Flanders. The Emperor, who 
 did not wish to quarrel with England, intervened at 
 this point, and brought about a reconciliation between 
 the two powers. The Spanish ambassador returned to 
 London. 
 
 The Emperor next endeavoured to strengthen his 
 party in Spain. The reigning Queen was his sister-in- 
 law, and was all-powerful. Such of the nobility and of 
 the ministers who would not bend before her she 
 caused to be dismissed ; and none were favoured by her 
 who were not partisans of the House of Austria. The
 
 238 A NEW PARTY IN SPAIN. 
 
 Emperor had, therefore, a powerful ally at the Court 
 of Madrid to aid him in carrying out his plans ; and 
 the King was so much in his favour, that he had made 
 a will, bequeathing his succession to the Archduke. 
 Everything therefore seemed to promise success to the 
 Emperor. 
 
 But, just at this time, a small party arose in Spain, 
 equally opposed to the Emperor, and to the proposi- 
 tions of the King of England. This party consisted at 
 first of only five persons ; namely, Villafranca, Medina- 
 Sidonia, Villagarcias, Villena, and San Estevan, all of 
 them nobles, and well instructed in the affairs of govern- 
 ment. Their wish was to prevent the dismemberment of 
 the Spanish kingdom, by conferring the whole succession 
 upon the son of the only son of the Queen of France, 
 Maria Theresa, sister of the King of Spain. There 
 were, however, two great obstacles in their path. 
 Maria Theresa, upon her marriage with our King, had 
 solemnly renounced all claim to the Spanish throne, 
 and these renunciations had been repeated at the Peace 
 of the Pyrenees. The other obstacle was the affection 
 the King of Spain bore to the House of Austria, an 
 affection which naturally would render him opposed to 
 any project, by which a rival house would be aggran- 
 dised at its expense. 
 
 As to the first obstacle, these politicians were of 
 opinion that the renunciations made by Maria Theresa 
 held good only as far as they applied to the object for 
 which they were made. That object was to prevent 
 the crown of France and Spain from being united upon 
 one head, as might have happened in the person of the
 
 ATTACK ON THE QUEEN OF SPAIN. 239 
 
 Dauphin. But, now that the Dauphin had three sons, 
 the second of whom could be called to the throne, of 
 Spain, the renunciations of the Queen became of no 
 import. As to the second obstacle, it was only to be 
 removed by great perseverance and -exertion ; but they 
 determined to leave no stone unturned to achieve their 
 ends. 
 
 One of the first resolutions of this little party was to 
 bind each other to secrecy. Their next was to admit 
 into their confidence Cardinal Portocarrero, a deter- 
 mined enemy to the Queen. Then they commenced an 
 attack upon the Queen in the council ; and, being sup- 
 ported by the popular voice, succeeded in driving out 
 of the country Madame Berlips, a German favourite of 
 hers, who was much hated on account of the undue 
 influence she exerted, and the rapacity she displayed. 
 The next measure was of equal importance. Madrid 
 and its environs groaned under the weight of a regi- 
 ment of Germans commanded by the Prince of 
 Darmstadt. The council decreed that this regiment 
 should be disbanded, and the Prince thanked for his 
 assistance. These two blows following upon each 
 other so closely, frightened the Queen, isolated her, and 
 put it out of her power to act during the rest of the life 
 of the King. 
 
 There was yet one of the preliminary steps to take, 
 without which it was thought that success would not 
 be certain. This was to dismiss the King's Confessor, 
 who had been given to him by the Queen, and who was 
 a zealous Austrian. 
 
 Cardinal Portocarrero was charged with this duty,
 
 PERPLEXITY OF THE KING. 
 
 and he succeeded so well, that two birds were killed 
 with one stone. The Confessor was dismissed, and 
 another was put in his place, who could he relied upon 
 to do and say exactly as he was requested. Thus, the 
 King of Spain was influenced in his conscience, which 
 had over him so much the more power, because he was 
 beginning to look upon the things of this world by the 
 glare of that terrible flambeau that is lighted for the 
 dying. The Confessor and the Cardinal, after a 
 short time, began unceasingly to attack the King 
 upon the subject of the succession. The King, 
 enfeebled by illness, and by a lifetime of weak health, 
 had little power of resistance. Pressed by the many 
 temporal, and affrighted by the many spiritual reasons 
 which were brought forward by the two ecclesiastics, 
 with no friend near whose opinion he could consult, 
 no Austrian at hand to confer with, and no Spaniard 
 who was not opposed to Austria ; the King fell into a 
 profound perplexity, and, in this strait, proposed to 
 consult the Pope, as an authority whose decision would 
 be infallible. The Cardinal, who felt persuaded that 
 the Pope was sufficiently enlightened, and sufficiently 
 impartial to declare in favour of France, assented to 
 this step ; and the King of Spain accordingly wrote a 
 long letter to Koine, feeling much relieved by the course 
 he had adopted. 
 
 The Pope replied at once and in the most decided 
 manner. He said he saw clearly that the children of 
 the Dauphin were the next heirs to the Spanish throne, 
 and that the House of Austria had not the smallest 
 right to it. He recommended therefore the King of
 
 DECISION OF THE POPE. 241 
 
 Spain to render justice to whom justice was due, and 
 to assign the succession of his monarchy to a son of 
 France. This reply, and the letter which had given 
 rise to it, were kept so profoundly secret that they 
 were not known in Spain until after the King's death. 
 
 Directly the Pope's answer had been received the 
 King was pressed to make a fresh will, and to destroy 
 that which he had previously made in favour of the 
 Archduke. The new will accordingly was at once 
 drawn up, and signed ; and the old one burned in the 
 presence of several witnesses. 
 
 Matters having arrived at this point, it was thought 
 opportune to admit others to the knowledge of what 
 had taken place. The council of state, consisting of 
 eight members, four of whom were already in the 
 secret, was made acquainted with the movements of 
 the new party; and, after a little hesitation, were 
 gained over. 
 
 The King meantime was drawing near to his end. 
 A few days after he had signed the new will he was at 
 the last extremity, and in a few days more he died. 
 In his last moments the Queen had been kept from 
 him as much as possible, and was unable in any way 
 to interfere with the plans that had been so deeply 
 laid. As soon as the King was dead the first thing to 
 be done was to open his will. The council of state 
 assembled for that purpose, and all the grandees of 
 Spain who were in the capital took part in it. The 
 singularity and the importance of such an event in- 
 teresting many millions of men, drew all Madrid to 
 the palace, and the rooms adjoining that in which the
 
 242 SCENE AT THE COUNCIL. 
 
 council assembled were filled to suffocation. All the 
 foreign ministers besieged 'the door. Everyone sought 
 to be the first to know the choice of the King who had 
 just died, in order to be the first to inform his court. 
 Blecourt, our ambassador, was there with the others, 
 without knowing more than they ; and Count d'Harrach, 
 ambassador from the Emperor, who counted upon the 
 will in favour of the Archduke, was there also, with 
 a triumphant look, just opposite the door, and 
 close by it. _ 
 
 At last the door opened, and immediately closed 
 again. The Due d'Abrantes, a man of much wit and 
 humour, but not to be trifled with, came out. He 
 wished to have the pleasure of announcing upon whom 
 the successorship had fallen, and was surrounded as 
 soon as he appeared. Keeping silence, and turning 
 his eyes on all sides, he fixed them for a moment on 
 Blecourt, then looked in another direction, as if 
 seeking some one else. Blecourt interpreted this 
 action as a bad omen. The Due d'Abrantes feigning 
 at last to discover the Count d'Harrach, assumed a 
 gratified look, flew to him, embraced him, and said 
 aloud in Spanish, " Sir, it is with much pleasure ; " 
 then pausing as though to embrace him better, he 
 added : " Yes sir, it is with an extreme joy that for all 
 my life," here the embraces were redoubled as an 
 excuse for a second pause, after which lie went on 
 " and with the greatest contentment that I part from 
 you, and take leave of the very august House of 
 Austria." So sajing he clove the crowd, and everyone 
 ran after him to know the name of the real heir.
 
 NEWS SENT TO FRANCE. 243 
 
 The astonishment and indignation of Count d'Har- 
 rach disabled him from speaking, but showed them- 
 selves upon his face in all their extent. He remained 
 motionless some moments, and then went away in the 
 greatest confusion at the manner in which he had been 
 duped. 
 
 Blecourt, on the other hand, ran home without 
 asking other information, and at once despatched to 
 the King a courier, who fell ill at Bayonne, and was 
 replaced by one named by Harcourt, then at Bayonne 
 getting ready for the occupation of Guipuscoa. The 
 news arrived at Court (Fontainebleau) in the month of 
 November. The King was going out shooting that 
 day; but, upon learning what had taken place, at 
 once countermanded the sport, announced the death 
 of the King of Spain, and at three o'clock held a 
 council of the ministers in the apartments of Madame 
 de Maintenon. This council lasted until past seven 
 o'clock in the evening. Monseigneur, who had been 
 out wolf -hunting, returned in time to attend it. On 
 the next morning, Wednesday, another council was 
 held, and in the evening a third, in the apartments of 
 Madame de Maintenon. However accustomed persons 
 were at the Court to the favour Madame de Maintenon 
 enjoyed there, they were extremely surprised to see 
 two councils assembled in her rooms for the greatest 
 and most important deliberation that had taken place 
 during this long reign, or indeed during many others. 
 
 The King, Monseigneur, tht Chancellor, the Due de 
 Brinvilliers, Torcy, and Madame de Maintenon, were 
 the only persons who deliberated upon this affair. 
 
 B 2
 
 244 A COUNCIL AT MADAME DE MAINTENON's. 
 
 Madame de Maintenon preserved at first a modest 
 silence ; but the King forced her to give her opinion 
 after every body had spoken except herself. The council 
 was divided. Two were for keeping to the treaty that 
 had been signed with King "William, two for accepting 
 the will. 
 
 Monseigneur, drowned as he was in fat and sloth, 
 appeared in quite another character, from his usual 
 one, at these councils. To the great surprise of the 
 King and his assistants, when it was his turn to speak 
 he expressed himself with force in favour of accepting 
 the testament. Then, turning towards the King in a 
 respectful but firm manner, he said that he took the 
 liberty of asking for his inheritance, that the monarchy 
 of Spain belonged to the queen his mother, and con- 
 sequently to him ; that he surrendered it willingly to 
 his second son for the tranquillity of Europe ; but 
 that to none other would he yield an inch of ground. 
 These words, spoken with an inflamed countenance, 
 caused excessive surprise. The King listened very 
 attentively, and then said to Madame de Maintenon, 
 " And you, Madame, what do you think upon all 
 this ? " She began by affecting modesty ; but pressed, 
 and even commanded to speak, she expressed herself 
 with becoming confusion ; briefly sang the praises of 
 Monseigneur, whom she feared and liked but little 
 sentiments perfectly reciprocated and at last was for 
 accepting the will. 
 
 The King did not yet declare himself. He said that 
 the affair might well be allowed to sleep for four-and- 
 twenty hours, in order that they might ascertain if
 
 RESOLVE OF LOUIS XTV. 245 
 
 the Spaniards approved the choice of their King. He 
 dismissed the council, but ordered it to meet again the 
 next evening at the same hour and place. Next day 
 several couriers arrived from Spain, and the news 
 they brought left no doubt upon the King's mind as 
 to the wishes of the Spanish nobles and people upon 
 the subject of the will. When therefore the council 
 reassembled in the apartments of Madame de Main- 
 tenon, the King, after fully discussing the matter, 
 resolved to accept the will. 
 
 At the first receipt of the news the King and his 
 ministers had been overwhelmed with a surprise that 
 they could not recover from for several days. When 
 the news was spread abroad, the Court was equally 
 surprised. The foreign ministers passed whole nights 
 deliberating upon the course the King would adopt. 
 Nothing else was spoken of but this matter. The 
 King, one evening, to divert himself, asked the 
 princesses their opinion. They replied that he should 
 send M. le Due d'Anjou (the k second son of Mon- 
 seigneur) into Spain, and that this was the general 
 sentiment. "I am sure," replied the King, "that 
 whatever course I adopt many people will condemn 
 me." 
 
 At last, on Tuesday, the sixteenth of November, the 
 King publicly declared himself. The Spanish ambas- 
 sador had received intelligence which proved the 
 eagerness of Spain to welcome the Due d'Anjou as 
 its king. There seemed to be no doubt of the matter. 
 The King, immediately after getting up, called the 
 ambassador into his cabinet, where M. le Due d'Anjou
 
 246 PUBLIC DECLARATION. 
 
 had already arrived. Then pointing to the Due, he 
 told the ambassador he might salute him as King of 
 Spain. The ambassador threw himself upon his knees 
 after the fashion of his country, and addressed to the 
 Due a tolerably long compliment in the Spanish 
 language. Immediately afterwards the King, contrary 
 to all custom, opened the two folding doors of his 
 cabinet, and commanded everybody to enter. It was 
 a very full Court that day. The King, majestically 
 turning his eyes towards the numerous company, and 
 showing them M. le Due d'Anjou, said " Gentlemen, 
 behold the King of Spain. His birth called him to 
 that crown ; the late king also has called him to it by his 
 will ; the whole nation wished for him, and has asked 
 me for him eagerly ; it is the will of heaven : I have 
 obeyed it with pleasure." And then, turning towards 
 his grandson, he said, " Be a good Spaniard, that is 
 your first duty ; but remember that you are a French- 
 man born, in order that the union between the two 
 nations may be preserved; it will be the means of 
 rendering both happy, and of preserving the peace of 
 Europe." Pointing afterwards with his finger to the 
 Due d'Anjou, to indicate him to the ambassador, the 
 King added, " If he follows my counsels you will be a 
 grandee, and soon ; he cannot do better than follow 
 your advice." 
 
 When the hubbub of the courtiers had subsided, the 
 two other sons of France, brothers of M. d'Anjou, 
 arrived, and all three embraced each other tenderly 
 several times, with tears in their eyes. The ambas- 
 sador of the Emperor immediately entered, little
 
 TREATMENT OF THE NEW KING. 247 
 
 suspecting what had taken place, and was confounded 
 when he learned the news. The King afterwards 
 went to mass, during which, at his right hand was 
 the new King of Spain, who during the rest of his 
 stay in France, was publicly treated in every respect 
 as a sovereign, by the King and all the Court. 
 
 The joy of Monseigneur at all this was very great. 
 He seemed beside himself, and continually repeated 
 that no man had ever found himself in a condition to 
 say as he could, " The King my father, and the King 
 my son." If he had known the prophecy which from 
 his birth had been said of him, " A King's son, a 
 King's father, and never a King," which eve^body 
 had heard repeated a thousand times, I think he would 
 not have so much rejoiced, however vain may be such 
 prophecies. The King himself was so overcome, that 
 at supper he turned to the Spanish ambassador 
 and said that the whole affair .seemed to him like a 
 dream. In public, as I have observed, the new King 
 of Spain was treated in every respect as a sovereign, 
 but in private he was still the Due d'Anjou. He 
 passed his evenings in the apartments of Madame de 
 Maintenon, where he played at all sorts of children's 
 games, scampering to and fro with Messeigneurs his 
 brothers, with Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne, and 
 with the few ladies to whom access was permitted. 
 
 On Friday, the 19th of November, the new King of 
 Spain put on mourning. Two days after, the King 
 did the same. On Monday, the 22nd, letters were 
 received from the Elector of Bavaria, stating that the 
 King of Spain had been proclaimed at Brussels with
 
 248 DEPARTURE OF THE KING OF SPAIN. 
 
 much rejoicing and illuminations. On Sunday, the 
 28th, M. Vaudemont, governor of the Milanese, sent 
 word that he had heen proclaimed in that territory, 
 and with the same demonstrations of joy as at 
 Brussels. 
 
 On Saturday, the 4th of December, the King of 
 Spain set out for his dominions. The King rode with 
 him in his coach as far as Sceaux, surrounded in pomp 
 by many more guards than usual, gendarmes and 
 light horse, all the road covered with coaches and 
 people ; and Sceaux, where they arrived a little after 
 midday, full of ladies and courtiers, guarded by two 
 companies of Musketeers. There was a good deal of 
 leave-taking, and all the family was collected alone 
 in the last room of the apartment; but as the doors 
 were left open, the tears they shed so bitterly could be 
 seen. In presenting the King of Spain to the Princes 
 of the blood, the King said " Behold the Princes of 
 my blood and of yours ; the two nations from this 
 time ought to regard themselves as one nation ; they 
 ought to have the same interests ; therefore I wish 
 these Princes to be attached to you as to me ; you 
 cannot have friends more faithful or more certain." 
 All this lasted a good hour and a-half. But the time of 
 separation at last came. The King conducted the 
 King of Spain to the end of the apartment and em- 
 braced him several times, holding him a long while in 
 his arms. Monseigneur did the same. The spectacle 
 was extremely touching. 
 
 The King returned into the palace for some time, in 
 order to recover himself. Monseigneur got into a
 
 REFLECTIONS. 249 
 
 caleche alone, and went to Meudon ; and the King of 
 Spain, with his brother, M. de Noailles, and a large 
 number of courtiers, set out on his journey. The King 
 gave to his grandson twenty-one purses of a thousand 
 louis each, for pocket-money, and much money besides 
 for presents. Let us leave them on their journey, and 
 admire the Providence which sports with the thoughts 
 of men and disposes of states. What would have said 
 Ferdinand and Isabella, Charles V. and Philip II., 
 who so many times attempted to conquer France, and 
 who have been so frequently accused of aspiring to 
 universal monarchy, and Philip IV., even, with all his 
 precautions at the marriage of the King and at the 
 peace of the Pyrenees, what would they have said, to 
 see a son of France become King of Spain, by the will 
 and testament of the last of their blood in Spain, and 
 by the universal wish of all the Spaniards without 
 plot, without intrigue, without a shot being fired on our 
 part, and without the sanction of our King, nay even to 
 his extreme surprise and that of all his ministers, who 
 had only the trouble of making up their minds and of 
 accepting ? What great and wise reflections might be 
 made thereon ! But they would be out of place in 
 these Memoirs. 
 
 The King of Spain arrived in Madrid on the 19th 
 February. From his first entrance into the country he 
 had everywhere been most warmly welcomed. Accla- 
 mations were uttered when he appeared ; fetes and bull- 
 fights were given in his honour ; the nobles and ladies 
 pressed around him. He had been proclaimed in 
 Madrid some time before, in the midst of demonstra-
 
 250 THE KING'S RECEPTION AT MADRID. 
 
 tions of joy. Now that he had arrived among his 
 subjects there, that joy burst out anew. There was 
 such a crowd in the streets that sixty people were 
 stifled ! All along the line of route were an infinity of 
 coaches filled with ladies richly decked. The streets 
 through which he passed were hung in the Spanish 
 fashion ; stands were placed, adorned with fine pictures 
 and a vast number of silver vessels ; triumphal arches 
 were built from side to side. It is impossible to 
 conceive a greater or more general demonstration of 
 joy. k The Buen-Retiro, where the new King took up 
 his quarters, was filled with the Court and the nobility. 
 The Junta and a number of great men, received 
 him at the door, and the Cardinal Portocarrero, who 
 was there, threw himself on his knees, and wished to 
 kiss the King's hand. But the King would not permit 
 this ; raised the Cardinal, embraced him, and treated 
 him as his father. The Cardinal wept with joy, and 
 could not take his eyes off the King. He was just 
 then in the flower of his first youth fair like the late 
 King Charles, and the Queen his grandmother ; grave, 
 silent, measured, self-contained, formed exactly to live 
 among Spaniards. With all this, very attentive in his 
 demeanour, and paying everybody the attention due to 
 him, having taken lessons from d'Harcourt on the way. 
 Indeed he took off his hat or raised it to nearly every- 
 body, so that the Spaniards spoke on the subject to the 
 Due d'Harcourt, who replied to them that the King in 
 all essential things would conform himself to usage, 
 but that in others he must be allowed to act according 
 to French politeness. It cannot be imagined how
 
 THE QUEEN-DOAVAGEK, BANISHED. 251 
 
 much these trifling external attentions attached all 
 hearts to this Prince. 
 
 He was, indeed, completely triumphant in Spain, 
 and the Austrian party as completely routed. The 
 Queen of Spain was sent away from Madrid, and 
 banished to Toledo, where she remained with but a 
 small suite, and still less consideration. Each day 
 the nobles, the citizens, and the people had given 
 fresh proof of their hatred against the Germans and 
 against the Queen. She had been almost entirely 
 abandoned, and was refused the most ordinary neces- 
 saries of her state.
 
 252 MARRIAGE OF PHILIP V. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Marriage of Philip V. The Queen's Journey Rival Dishes A Delicate 
 Quarrel The King's Journey to Italy The Intrigues against Catinat 
 Vaudemont's success Appointment of Villeroy The First Cam- 
 paign A Snuff-box Prince Eugene's Plan Attack and Defence of 
 Cremona Villeroy made Prisoner Appointment of M . de Vend6me. 
 
 SHORTLY after his arrival in Madrid, the new King 
 of Spain began to look about him for a wife, and his 
 marriage with the second daughter of M. de Savoie 
 (younger sister of Madame de Bourgogne) was decided 
 upon as an alliance of much honour and importance to 
 M. de Savoie, and, by binding him to her interest, 
 of much utility to France. An extraordinary ambas- 
 sador (Homodei, brother of the Cardinal of that name) 
 was sent to Turin to sign the contract of marriage, and 
 bring back the new Queen into Spain. He was also 
 appointed her Ecuyer, and the Princesse des Ursins 
 was selected as her Camarera Mayor, a very important 
 office. The Princesse des Ursins seemed just adapted 
 for it. A Spanish lady could not have been relied 
 upon ; a lady of our Court would not have been fit for 
 the post. The Princesse des Ursins was, as it were, 
 both French and Spanish French by birth, Spanish 
 by marriage. She had passed the greater part of her 
 life in Rome and Italy, and was a widow without 
 children. I shall have more hereafter to say of this
 
 THE QUEEN'S JOURNEY. 253 
 
 celebrated woman, who so long and so publicly 
 governed the Court and Crown of Spain, and who has 
 made so much stir in the world by her reign and by 
 her fall ; at present let me finish with the new Queen 
 of Spain. 
 
 She was married, then, at Turin, on the llth of 
 September, with but little display, the King being 
 represented by procuration, and set out on the 13th for 
 Nice, where she was to embark on board the Spanish 
 galleys for Barcelona. The King of Spain, meanwhile, 
 after hearing news that he had been proclaimed with 
 much unanimity and rejoicing in Peru and Mexico, 
 left Madrid on the 5th of September, to journey 
 through Aragon and Catalonia to Barcelona to meet 
 his wife. He was much welcomed on his route, above 
 all by Saragossa, which received him magnificently. 
 
 The new Queen of Spain, brought by the French 
 galleys to Nice, was so fatigued with the sea when she 
 arrived there, that she determined to finish the rest of 
 the journey by land, through Provence and Languedoc. 
 Her graces, her presence of mind, the aptness and the 
 politeness of her short replies, and her judicious 
 curiosity, remarkable at her age, suprised everybody, 
 and gave great hopes to the Princesse des Ursins. 
 
 When within two days' journey of Barcelona, the 
 Queen was met by a messenger, bearing presents and 
 compliments from the King. All her household joined 
 her at the same time, being sent on in advance for 
 that purpose, and her Piedmontese attendants were 
 dismissed. She appeared more affected by this sepa- 
 ration than Madame de Bourgogne had been when
 
 251 RIVAL DISHES. 
 
 parting from her attendants. She wept bitterly, and 
 seemed quite lost in the midst of so many new faces, 
 the most familiar of which (that of Madame des Ursins) 
 was quite fresh to her. Upon arriving at Figueras 
 the King, impatient to see her, went on before on 
 horseback. In this first embarrassment Madame des 
 Ursins, although completely unknown to the King, 
 and but little known to the Queen, was of great service 
 to both. 
 
 Upon arriving at Figueras, the bishop diocesan 
 married them anew, with little ceremony, and soon 
 after they sat down to supper, waited upon by the 
 Princesse des Ursins and the ladies of the palace, half 
 the dishes being French, half Spanish. This mixture 
 displeased the ladies of the palace and several of the 
 Spanish grandees, who plotted with the ladies openly 
 to mark their displeasure ; and they did so in a scan- 
 dalous manner. Under one pretext or another such 
 as the weight or heat of the dishes not one of the 
 French dishes arrived upon the table ; all were upset ; 
 while the Spanish dishes, on the contrary, were served 
 without any accident. The affectation and the air of 
 chagrin, to say the least of it, of the ladies of the 
 palace, were too visible not to be perceived. But the 
 King and Queen were wise enough to appear not to 
 notice this ; and Madame des Ursins, much astonished, 
 said not a word. 
 
 After a long and disagreeable supper, the King and 
 Queen withdrew. Then feelings which had been kept 
 in during supper overflowed. The Queen wept for her 
 Piedmontese women. Like a child, as she was, she
 
 A DELICATE QUARREL. 255 
 
 thought herself lost in the hands of ladies so insolent ; 
 and when it was time to go to bed, she said flatly that 
 she would not go, and that she wished to return home. 
 Everything was done to console her ; but the astonish- 
 ment and embarrassment were great indeed when it 
 was found that all was of no avail. The King had 
 undressed, and was awaiting her. Madame des IJrsins 
 was at length obliged to go and tell him the resolution 
 the Queen had taken. He was piqued and annoyed. 
 He had until that time lived with the completest 
 regularity; which had contributed to make him find 
 the Princesse more to his taste than he might other 
 wise have done. He was therefore affected by her 
 fantaisie, and by the same reason easily persuaded that 
 she would not keep to it beyond the first night. They 
 did not see each other therefore until the morrow, and 
 after they were dressed. It was lucky that by the 
 Spanish custom no one was permitted to be present 
 when the newly-married pair went to bed; or this 
 affair, which went no further than the two young 
 couple, Madame des Ursins, and one or two domestics, 
 might have made a very unpleasant noise. 
 
 Madame des Ursins consulted with two of the cour- 
 tiers, as to the best measures to be adopted with, a 
 child who showed so much force and resolution. The 
 night was passed in exhortations and in promises upon 
 what had occurred at the supper ; and the Queen con- 
 sented at last to remain Queen. The Duke of Medina- 
 Sidonia and Count San Estevan were consulted on the 
 morrow. They were of opinion that in his turn the 
 King in order to mortify and reduce her to terms,
 
 256 THE KING'S JOURNEY TO ITALY. 
 
 should not visit the Queen on the following night. 
 This opinion was acted upon. The King and Queen 
 did not see each other in private that day. In the 
 evening the Queen was very sorry. Her pride and her 
 little vanity were wounded ; perhaps also she had 
 found the King to her taste. 
 
 The ladies and the grand seigneurs who had attended 
 at the supper were lectured for what had occurred there. 
 Excuses, promises, demands for pardon, followed ; all 
 was put right ; the third day was tranquil, and the 
 third night still more agreeable to the } r oung people. 
 On the fourth day they went to Barcelona where only 
 fetes and pleasures awaited them. Soon after they set 
 out for Madrid. 
 
 At the commencement of the following year (1702), 
 it was resolved, after much debate, at our court, that 
 Philip V. should make a journey to Italy, and on 
 Easter-day he set out. He went to Naples, Leghorn, 
 Milan, and Alessandria. While at the first-named 
 place a conspiracy which had been hatching there 
 against his life, was discovered, and put down. But 
 other things which previously occurred in Italy ought 
 to have been related before. I must therefore return 
 to them now. 
 
 From the moment that Philip V. ascended the 
 Spanish throne it was seen that a war was certain. 
 England maintained for sometime an obstinate silence, 
 refusing to acknowledge the new King; the Dutch 
 secretly murmured against him, and the Emperor 
 openly prepared for battle. Italy, it was evident at 
 once, would be the spot on which hostilities would
 
 THE INTRIGUES AGAINST CATINAT. 257 
 
 commence, and our King lost no time in taking measures 
 to be ready for events. By land and by sea every 
 preparation was made for the struggle about to take 
 place. 
 
 After some time the waf, waited for and expected by 
 all Europe, at last broke out, by some Imperialist 
 troops firing upon a handful of men near Albaredo. 
 One Spaniard was killed, and all the rest of the men 
 taken prisoners. The Imperialists would not give them 
 up until a cartel was arranged. The King, upon hear- 
 ing this, at once despatched the general officers to 
 Italy. Our troops were to be commanded by Catinat, 
 under M. de Savoie ; and the Spanish troops by 
 Vaudemont, who was Governor- General of the 
 Milanese, and to whom, and his dislike to our King, 
 I have before alluded. 
 
 Vaudemont at once began to plot, to overthrow 
 Catinat, in conjunction with Tesse, who had expected 
 the command, and who was irritated because it had not 
 been given to him. They were in communication with 
 Chamillart, Minister of "War, who aided them, as did 
 other friends at Court, to be hereafter named, in carry- 
 ing out their object. It was all the more easy because 
 they had to do with a man who depended for support 
 solely upon his own talent, and whose virtue and sim- 
 plicity raised him above all intrigue and scheming ; 
 and who, with much ability, and intelligence, was severe 
 in command, very laconic, disinterested, and of exceed- 
 ing pure life. 
 
 Prince Eugene commanded the army of the Emperor 
 in Italy. The first two generals under him, in order 
 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 258 VAUDEMONT'S SUCCESS. 
 
 of rank, were allied with Vaudemont : one, in fact, was 
 his only son ; the other was the son of a friend of his. 
 The least reflection ought to have opened all eyes to 
 the conduct of Vaudemont, and to have discerned it to 
 be more than suspicious. Catinat soon found it out. 
 He could plan nothing against the enemy that they 
 did not learn immediately ; and he never attempted 
 any movement without finding himself opposed hy a 
 force more than double his own; so gross was this 
 treachery. 
 
 Catinat often complained of this : he sent word of it 
 to the Court, but without daring to draw any conclu- 
 sion from what happened. Nobody sustained him at 
 Court, for Vaudemont had everybody in his favour. 
 He captured our general officers by his politeness, his 
 magnificence, and, above all, by presenting them with 
 abundant supplies. All the useful, and the agreeable, 
 came from his side ; all the dryness, all the exactitude 
 came from Catinat. It need not be asked which of 
 the two had all hearts. In fine, Tesse and Vaudemont 
 carried out their schemes so well that Catinat could do 
 nothing. 
 
 While these schemes were going on, the Imperialists 
 were enabled to gain time, to strengthen themselves, 
 to cross the rivers without obstacle, to approach us ; 
 and, acquainted with everything as they were, to 
 attack a portion of our army on the 9th July, at 
 Carpi, with five regiments of cavalry and dragoons. 
 Prince Eugene led this attack without his coming 
 being in the least degree suspected, and fell suddenly 
 upon our troops. Tesse, who was in the immediate
 
 APPOINTMENT OF VILLEROY. 259 
 
 neighbourhood with some dragoons, advanced rapidly 
 upon hearing this, but only with a few dragoons. A 
 long resistance, was made, but at last retreat became 
 necessary. It was accomplished in excellent order, 
 and without disturbance from the enemy ; but our loss 
 was very great, many officers of rank being among 
 the dead. 
 
 Such was our first exploit in Italy ; all the fault of 
 which was attributed to Catinat. Tesse and Vaude- 
 mont did everything in their power to secure his 
 disgrace. The King, indeed, thus prejudiced against 
 Catinat, determined to take from him the command, 
 and appointed the Marechal de Villeroy as his suc- 
 cessor. The surprise of everybody at this was very 
 great, for no one expected that the Marechal de Villeroy 
 would repair the fault of Catinat. On the evening of 
 his appointment, this general was exposed in a very 
 straightforward and public manner by M. de Duras. 
 He did not like the Marechal de Villeroy ; and, while 
 everybody else was applauding, took the Marechal by 
 the arm, and said, "Monsieur le Marechal, everybody is 
 paying you compliments upon your departure to Italy, 
 I keep mine until you return ;" and then, bursting out 
 laughing, he looked round upon the company. Villeroy 
 remained confounded, without offering a word. Every- 
 body smiled and looked down. The King took no notice. 
 
 Catinat, when the command was taken out of his 
 hands by the Marechal de Villeroy, made himself 
 admired on every side by the moderation and tran- 
 quillity with which he conducted himself. If Vaudemont 
 
 was satisfied with the success of his schemes, it was far 
 
 s 2
 
 260 THE FIRST CAMPAIGN. 
 
 otherwise with Tesse, who had merely intrigued against 
 Catinat for the purpose of obtaining the command of 
 the army. He did all in his power to ingratiate himself 
 into the favour of the Marechal de Villeroy ; but the 
 Marechal received these advances very coldly. Tesse's 
 schemes against Catinat were beginning to be scented 
 out : he was accused of having wished the Imperialists 
 to succeed at Carpi, and of indirectly aiding them by 
 keeping back his troops; his tirades against Catinat, 
 too, made him suspected. The Marechal de Villeroy 
 would have nothing to do with him. His conduct was 
 contrasted with that of Catinat, who, free after his fall 
 to retire from the army, continued to remain there, 
 with rare modesty, interfering in nothing. 
 
 The first campaign passed without notable incident, 
 except an unsuccessful attack upon Chiari, by our 
 troops on the 1st of September. M. de Savoie led the 
 attack ; but was so firmly met by Prince Eugene, who 
 was in an excellent position for defence, that he could 
 do nothing, and in the end was compelled to retire 
 disgracefully. We lost five or six colonels and many 
 men, and had a large number wounded. This action 
 much astonished our army, and encouraged that of the 
 enemy, who did almost as they wished during the rest 
 of the campaign. 
 
 Towards the end of this campaign, the grand airs of 
 familiarity which the Marechal de Villeroy gave himself 
 with M. de Savoie drew upon him a cruel rebuke, not 
 to say an affront. M. de Savoie being in the midst of 
 all the generals and of the flower of the army, opened, 
 while talking, his snuff-box, and was about to take a
 
 A PLAN OF PRINCE EUGENE'S. 201 
 
 pinch of snuff, when M. de Villeroy, who was standing 
 near, stretched out his hand and put it into the box 
 without saying a word. M. de Savoie flushed up, and 
 instantly threw all the snuff upon the ground, gave the 
 box to one of his attendants, and told him to fill it 
 again. The Marechal, not knowing what to do with 
 himself, swallowed his shame without daring to say a 
 word, M. de Savoie continuing the conversation that he 
 ha'd not interrupted, except to ask for the fresh snuff. 
 
 The campaign passed away, our troops always 
 retreating, the Imperialists always gaining ground ; 
 they continually increasing in numbers ; we diminish- 
 ing little by little every day. The Marechal de Villeroy 
 and Prince Eugene each took up his winter quarters 
 and crossed the frontier: M. de Savoie returned to 
 Turin, and Catinat went to Paris. The King received 
 him well, but spoke of nothing but unimportant 
 matters, and gave him no private audience, nor did he 
 ask for one. 
 
 Prince Eugene, who was more knowing than the 
 Marechal de Villeroy, had obliged him to winter in the 
 midst of the Milanese, and kept him closely pressed 
 there, while his own troops enjoyed perfect liberty, by 
 means of which they much disturbed ours. In this 
 advantageous situation, Prince Eugene conceived the 
 design of surprising the centre of our quarters, and by 
 that blow to make himself master of our positions, 
 and afterwards of Milan, and the other places of the 
 country all in very bad order ; thus finishing effec- 
 tively and suddenly his conquest. 
 
 Cremona was our centre, and it was defended by
 
 202 ATTEMPTED SURPRISE OF CREMONA. 
 
 a strong garrison. Prince Eugene ascertained that 
 there was at Cremona an ancient aqueduct which 
 extended far out into the country, and which started 
 from the town in the vault of a house occupied by a 
 priest. He also learnt that this aqueduct had been 
 recently cleaned, but that it carried very little 
 water, and that in former times the town had been 
 surprised by means of it. He caused the entrance of 
 the aqueduct, in the country, to be reconnoitred, 'he 
 gained over the priest, in whose vault it ended, and 
 who lived close to one of the gates of the city, which 
 was walled up and but little guarded; he sent into 
 Cremona as many chosen soldiers as he could, dis- 
 guised as priests or peasants, and these hiding them- 
 selves in the house of the friendly priest, obtained 
 secretly as many axes as they could. Then the Prince 
 despatched five hundred picked men and officers to 
 march by the aqueduct to the priest's vault ; he put 
 Thomas de Vaudemont, son of the Governor- General 
 of the Milanese, at the head of a large detachment of 
 troops, with orders to occupy a redoubt that defended 
 the Po, and to come by the bridge to his assistance, 
 when the struggle commenced in the town; and he 
 charged the soldiers secreted in the priest's house to 
 break down the walled-up gate, so as to admit the 
 troops whom he would lead there. 
 
 Everything, thus concerted with exactness, was 
 executed with precision, and with all possible secrecy 
 and success. It was on the 1st of February, 1702, at 
 break of day, that the surprise was attempted. The 
 Marechal de Villeroy had only arrived in the town on
 
 A PIECE OF GOOD LUCK. 
 
 the previous night. The first person who got scent of 
 what was going forward was the cook of the Lieutenant- 
 General Crenan, who going out in the early morning 
 to buy provisions, saw the streets full of soldiers, 
 whose uniforms were unknown to him. He ran back 
 and awakened his master. Neither he nor his valets 
 would believe what the cook said, but nevertheless 
 Crenan hurriedly dressed himself, went out, and was 
 only too soon convinced that it was true. 
 
 At the same time, by a piece of good luck, which 
 proved the saving of Cremona, a regiment, under the. 
 command of D'Entragues, drew up in battle array in 
 one of the public places. D'Entragues was a bold and 
 skilful soldier, with a great desire to distinguish himself. 
 He wished to review this regiment, and had commenced 
 business before the dawn. While the light was still 
 uncertain and feeble, and his battalions were under 
 arms, he indistinctly perceived infantry troops forming 
 at the end of the street, in front of him. He knew by 
 the orders given on the previous evening that no other 
 review was to take place except his own. He imme- 
 diately feared, therefore, some surprise, marched- at 
 once to these troops, whom he found to be Imperialists, 
 charged them, overthrew them, sustained the shock of 
 the fresh troops which arrived, and kept up a defence 
 so obstinate, that he gave time to all the town to 
 awake, and to the majority of the troops to take up 
 arms. Without him, all would have been slaughtered 
 as they slept. 
 
 Just at dawn the Marechal de Villeroy, already up 
 and dressed, was writing in his chamber. He heard a
 
 261 BATTLE IN THE STREETS. 
 
 noise, called for a horse, and followed by a single 
 aide-de-camp and a page, threaded his way through the 
 streets to the grand place, which is always the rendez- 
 vous in case of alarm. At the turning of one of the 
 streets he fell into the midst of an Imperialist corps de 
 garde, who surrounded him and arrested him. Feeling 
 that it was impossible to defend himself, the Marechal 
 de Villeroy whispered his name to the officer, and pro- 
 mised him ten thousand pistoles, a regiment, and the 
 grandest recompenses from the King, to be allowed to 
 escape. The officer was however above all bribes, said 
 he had not served the Emperor so long in order to 
 end by betraying him, and conducted the Marechal de 
 Villeroy to Prince Eugene, who did not receive him so 
 well as he himself would have been received, under 
 similar circumstances, by the Marechal. While in the 
 suite of Prince Eugene, Villeroy saw Crenan led in 
 prisoner, and wounded to the death, and exclaimed that 
 he should like to be in his place. A moment. after 
 they were both sent out of the town, and passed the 
 day, guarded, in the coach of Prince Eugene. 
 
 Bevel, become commander-in-chief by the capture of 
 the Marechal de Villeroy, tried to rally the troops. 
 There was a fight in every street ; the troops dispersed 
 about, some in detachments, several scarcely armed; 
 some only in their shirts fought with the greatest 
 bravery. They were driven at last to the ramparts, where 
 they had time to look about them, to rally and form 
 themselves. If the enemy had not allowed our troops 
 time to gain the ramparts, or if they had driven them 
 beyond this position, when they reached it, the town
 
 VIGOROUS DEFENCE. 265 
 
 could never have held out. But the Imperialists kept 
 themselves entirely towards the centre of the town, and 
 made no effort to fall upon our men, or to drive them 
 from the ramparts. 
 
 Praslin, who had the command of our cavalry, put 
 himself at the head of some Irish battalions which 
 under him did wonders. Although continually occu- 
 pied in defending and attacking, Praslin conceived the 
 idea that the safety of Cremona depended upon the 
 destruction of the bridge of the Po, so that the 
 Imperialists could not receive reinforcements from that 
 point. He repeated this so many times, that Revel 
 was informed of it, and ordered Praslin to do what 
 he thought most advisable in the matter. Thereupon, 
 Praslin instantly commanded the bridge to be broken 
 down. There was not a moment to lose. Thomas de 
 Vaudemont was already approaching the bridge at the 
 head of his troops. But the bridge, nevertheless, was 
 destroyed before his eyes, and with all his musketeers 
 he was not able to prevent it. 
 
 It was now three o'clock in the afternoon. Prince 
 Eugene was at the Hotel de Ville, swearing in the 
 magistrates. Leaving that place, and finding that his 
 troops were giving way, he ascended the cathedral 
 steeple to see what was passing in different parts of 
 the town, and to discover why the troops of Thomas 
 de Vaudemont did not arrive. He had scarcely 
 reached the top of the steeple, when he saw his 
 detachments on the banks of the Po, and the bridge 
 broken, thus rendering their assistance useless. He 
 was not more satisfied with what he discovered in
 
 266 KETEEAT OF THE ENEMY. 
 
 every other direction. Furious at seeing his enter- 
 prise in such bad case, after having been so nearly 
 successful, he descended, tearing his hair and yelling. 
 From that time, although superior in force, he thought 
 of nothing but retreat. 
 
 Revel, who saw that his troops were overwhelmed by 
 hunger, fatigue, and wounds, for since the break of day 
 they had had no repose or leisure, thought on his side 
 of withdrawing his men into the castle of Cremona, in 
 order, at least, to defend himself under cover, and to 
 obtain there a capitulation. So that the two opposing 
 chiefs each thought at one and the same time of 
 retreat. 
 
 Towards the evening therefore the combat slackened 
 on both sides, until our troops made a last effort to 
 drive the enemy from one of the gates of the town ; so 
 as to have that gate free and open during the night to 
 let in assistance. The Irish seconded so well this 
 attack, that it was at length successful. A tolerably 
 long calm succeeded this last struggle. Revel, never- 
 theless, thought of withdrawing his troops to the 
 castle, when Mahony, an Irish officer who had fought 
 bravely as a lion all day, proposed to go and see what 
 was passing all around. It was already growing dark ; 
 the reconnoiterers profited by this. They saw that 
 everything was tranquil, and understood that the enemy 
 had retreated. This grand news was carried to Revel, 
 who, with many around him, was a long time in believ- 
 ing it. Persuaded at last, he left everything as it was 
 then, until broad daylight, when he found that the 
 enemy had gone, and that the streets and public places
 
 NEWS BROUGHT TO THE KING. 267 
 
 were filled with the wounded, the dying, and the dead. 
 He made arrangements for everything, and despatched 
 Mahony to the king. 
 
 Prince Eugene retreated all that night with the 
 detachment he had led, and made the Marechal de 
 Villeroy, disarmed and badly mounted, follow him, 
 very indecently. The Marechal was afterwards sent to 
 Gratz, in Styria. Crenan died in the coach of the 
 Marechal de Villeroy. D'Entragues, to whose valour 
 the safety of Cremona was owing, did not survive this 
 glorious day. Our loss was great ; that of the enemy 
 greater. 
 
 The news of this, the most surprising event that has 
 been heard of in recent ages, was brought to the King 
 at Marly on the 9th of February, 1702, by Mahony. 
 Soon after it arrived I heard of it, and at once hastened 
 to the chateau, where I found a great buzzing and several 
 groups of people talking. Mahony was closeted a long 
 time with the King. At the end of an hour the King 
 came out of his cabinet and spoke strongly in praise of 
 what had occurred. He took pleasure in dwelling at 
 great length upon Mahony, and declared that he had 
 never heard anybody give such a clear and good 
 account of ah occurrence, as he. The King kindly 
 added that he should bestow a thousand francs a year 
 upon Mahony, and a brevet of Colonel. 
 
 In the evening M. le Prince de Conti told me 
 that the King had decorated Revel, and made Praslin 
 Lieutenant General. As the latter was one of my 
 particular friends, this intelligence gave me much joy. 
 I asked again to be more sure of the news. The other
 
 268 TREATMEXT OF 3IAEECHAL VILLEEOT. 
 
 principal officers vrere advanced in proportion to their 
 grades, and many received pensions. 
 
 As for the Marechal de Villeroy, he was treated as 
 those who excite envy and then become unfortunate 
 are always treated. The King, however, openly took 
 his part ; and in truth it was no fault of the Marechal, 
 who had arrived at Cremona the day before the sur- 
 prise, that he was taken prisoner directly he set his 
 foot in the street. How could he know of the aqueduct, 
 the barred-up gate, and the concealed soldiers? 
 Nevertheless his friends were plunged into the greatest 
 grief, and his wife who had not been duped by the 
 eclat which accompanied her husband upon his depar- 
 ture for Italy, but who feared for the result, was com- 
 pletely overwhelmed, and for a long time could not be 
 prevailed upon to see anybody. 
 
 M. de Vendome was appointed successor to M. de 
 Yilleroy, in command of the army in Italy.
 
 DISCONTENT OF BAEBEZIEUX. 269 
 
 CHAPTEE XX. 
 
 Discontent and Death of Barbezieux His Character Elevation of Cha- 
 millart Strange Reasons of his Success Death of Rose Anecdotes 
 An Invasion of Foxes M. le Prince A Horse upon Roses Marriage 
 of his Daughter His Manners and Appearance. 
 
 BUT it is time now for me to go back to other 
 matters, and to start again from the commencement of 
 1701, from which I have been led by reciting in a 
 continuous story, the particulars of our first campaign 
 in Italy. 
 
 Barbezieux had viewed with discontent the elevation 
 of Chamillart. His pride and presumption rose in 
 arms against it ; but as there was no remedy he gave 
 himself up to debauch, to dissipate his annoyance. He 
 had built between Versailles and Vaucresson, at the end 
 of the Park of Saint Cloud, a house in the open fields, 
 called 1'Etang, which though in the dismallest position 
 in the world had cost him millions. He went there to 
 feast and riot with his friends ; and committing excesses 
 above his strength, was seized with a fever, and died in 
 a few days, looking death steadily in the face. He was 
 told of his approaching end by the Archbishop of 
 Rheims ; for he would not believe Fagon. 
 
 He was thirty-three years of age, with a striking and 
 expressive countenance, and much wit and aptitude for 
 labour. He was remarkable for grace, fine manners,
 
 270 DEATH OF BARBEZIEUX. 
 
 and winning ways ; but his pride and ambition were 
 excessive, and when his fits of ill-temper came nothing 
 could repress them. Resistance always excited and 
 irritated him. He had accustomed the King when- 
 ever he had drunk too much, or when a party of pleasure 
 was toward to put off work to another time. It was a 
 great question, whether the State gained or lost most 
 by his death ? 
 
 As soon as he was dead, Saint-Pouange went to Marly 
 to tell the news to the King, who was so prepared for it 
 that two hours before, starting from Versailles, he had 
 left La Vrilliere behind to put the seals everywhere. 
 Fagon, who had condemned him at once, had never 
 loved him or his father ; and was accused of over- 
 bleeding him on purpose. At any rate he allowed, at 
 one of his last visits, expressions of joy to escape him, 
 because recovery was impossible. Barbezieux used to 
 annoy people very much by answering aloud when they 
 spoke to him in whispers ; and by keeping visitors 
 waiting whilst he was playing with his dogs, or some 
 base parasite. 
 
 Many people, especially divers beautiful ladies, lost 
 much by his death. Some of the latter looked very 
 disconsolate in the salon at Marly ; but when they had 
 gone to table, and the cake had been cut (it was Twelfth 
 Night), the King manifested a joy which seemed to 
 command imitation. He was not content with ex- 
 claiming " The Queen drinks," but, as in a common 
 wine-shop, he clattered his spoon and fork on his 
 plate, and made others do so likewise, which caused 
 a strange din, that lasted at intervals all through the
 
 CHARACTER OF CHAMILLART. 271 
 
 supper. The snivellers made more noise than the 
 others, and uttered louder screams of laughter ; and 
 the nearest relatives and best friends were still 
 more riotous. On the morrow all signs of grief had 
 disappeared. 
 
 Chamillart was appointed in the place of Barbezieux, 
 as Secretary of State ; and wanted to give up the 
 Finances, but the King, remembering the disputes of 
 Louvres and Colbert, insisted on his occupying both 
 posts. Chamillart was a very worthy man, with clean 
 hands and the best intentions, polite, patient, obliging, 
 a good friend, and a moderate enemy, loving his 
 country, but his King better ; and on very good terms 
 with him and Madame de Maintenon. His mind was 
 limited, and like all persons of little wit and knowledge, 
 he was obstinate and pig-headed smiling affectedly 
 with a gentle compassion on whoever opposed reasons 
 to his, but utterly incapable of understanding them 
 consequently a dupe in friendship, in business, in 
 everything ; governed by all who could manage to win 
 his admiration, or on very slight grounds could claim 
 his affection. His capacity was small, and yet he 
 believed he knew everything, which was the more 
 pitiable, as all this came to him with his places, and 
 arose more from stupidity than presumption not at 
 all from vanity, of which he was divested. The most 
 remarkable thing is that the chief origin of the King's 
 tender regard for him was this very incapacity. He 
 used to confess it to the King at every opportunity ; 
 and the King took pleasure in directing and instructing 
 him, so that he was interested in his successes as if
 
 272 DEATH OF HOSE. 
 
 they had been his own, and always excused him. The 
 world and the Court excused him also, charmed by the 
 facility with which he received people, the pleasure he 
 felt in granting requests and rendering services, the 
 gentleness and regretfulness of his refusals, and his 
 indefatigable patience as a listener. His memory was 
 so great that he remembered all matters submitted to 
 him, which gave pleasure to people who were afraid of 
 being forgotten. He wrote excellently ; and his clear, 
 flowing, and precise style was extremely pleasing to the 
 King and Madame de Maintenon, who were never 
 weary of praising him, encouraging him, and con- 
 gratulating themselves for having placed upon such 
 weak shoulders two burdens, each of which was suffi- 
 cient to overwhelm the most sturdy. 
 
 Rose, secretary in the King's cabinet, died, aged about 
 eighty-six, at the commencement of the year (1701). For 
 nearly fifty years he had held the office of the " pen " 
 as it is called. To have the " pen " is to be a public 
 forger, and to do what would cost anybody else his 
 life. This office consists in imitating so exactly the 
 handwriting of the King that the real cannot be dis- 
 tinguished from the counterfeit. In this manner are 
 written all the letters that the King ought or wishes to 
 write with his own hand, but which, nevertheless, he 
 will not take the trouble to write. Sovereigns and 
 people of high rank, even generals arid others of im- 
 portance, employ a secretary of this kind. It is not 
 possible to make a great King speak with more dignity 
 than did Rose ; nor with more fitness to each person, 
 and upon every subject. The King signed all the
 
 AN INVASION OF FOXES. 273 
 
 letters Rose wrote, and the characters were so alike 
 it was impossible to find the smallest difference. Many 
 important things had passed through the hands of 
 Rose. He was extremely faithful and secret, and the 
 King put entire trust in him. 
 
 Rose was artful, scheming, adroit, and dangerous. 
 There are stories without number of him ; and I will 
 relate one or two, solely because they characterise him, 
 and those to whom they also relate. 
 
 He had, near Chantilly, a nice house and grounds 
 that he much liked, and that he often visited. This 
 little property bordered the estate of M. le Prince, who 
 not liking so close a neighbour, wished to get rid of 
 him. M. le Prince endeavoured to induce Rose to give 
 up his house and grounds, but all to no effect ; and at 
 last tried to annoy him in various ways into acquies- 
 cence. Among other of his tricks, he put about four 
 hundred foxes, old and young, into Rose's park. It 
 may be imagined what disorder this company made 
 there, and the surprise of Rose and his servants at an 
 inexhaustible ant-hill of foxes come in one night ! 
 
 The worthy fellow, who was anger and vehemence 
 itself, knew only too well who had treated him thus 
 scurvily, and straightway went to the King, requesting 
 to be allowed to ask him rather a rough question. The 
 King, quite accustomed to him and to his jokes, for 
 he was pleasant and very witty, demanded what was 
 the matter. 
 
 " What is the matter, Sire ? " replied Rose, with a 
 face all flushed. " Why, I beg you will tell me if we 
 have two Kings in France ? " 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 HOSE AND M. LE PRINCE. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said the King, surprised, 
 and flushing in his turn. 
 
 " What I mean, Sire, is, that if M. le Prince is King 
 like you, folks must weep and lower their heads before 
 that tyrant. If he is only Prince of the blood, I ask 
 justice from you, Sire; for you owe it to all your 
 subjects, and you ought not to suffer them to be the 
 prey of M. le Prince," said Eose ; and he related 
 everything that had taken place, concluding with the 
 adventure of the foxes. 
 
 The King promised that he would speak to M. le 
 Prince in a manner to insure the future repose of 
 Rose ; and, indeed, he ordered all the foxes to be 
 removed from the worthy man's park, all the damages 
 they had made to be repaired, and all the expenses 
 incurred to be paid by M. le Prince. M. le Prince 
 was too good a courtier to fail in obeying this order, 
 and never afterwards troubled Rose in the least thing ; 
 but, on the contrary, made all the advances towards a 
 reconciliation. Rose was obliged to receive them, but 
 held himself aloof, nevertheless, and continually let 
 slip some raillery against M. le Prince. I and fifty 
 others were one day witnesses of this. 
 
 M. le Prince was acccustomed to pay his court to 
 the ministers as they stood waiting to attend the 
 council in the King's chamber ; and although he had 
 nothing to say, spoke to them with the mien of a client 
 obliged to fawn. One morning, when there was a 
 large assembly of the Court in this chamber, and 
 M.le Prince had been cajoling the ministers with much 
 suppleness and flattery, Secretary Rose, who saw
 
 HOSE IN THE MUD. 275 
 
 what had been going on, went up to him on a sudden, 
 and said aloud, putting one finger under his closed 
 eye, as was sometimes his habit, " Sir, I have seen 
 your scheming here with all these gentlemen, and for 
 several days ; it is not for nothing. I have known the 
 Court and mankind many years ; and am not to be im- 
 posed upon : I see clearly where matters point : " and 
 this with turns and inflections of voice which thoroughly 
 embarrassed M. le Prince, who defended himself as he 
 could. Every one crowded to hear what was going 
 on ; and at last Rose, taking M. le Prince respectfully 
 by his arm, said, with a cunning and meaning smile, 
 " Is it not that you wish to be made first Prince of the 
 blood royal?" Then he turned on his heel, and 
 slipped off. The Prince was stupefied ; and all present 
 tried in vain to restrain their laughter. 
 
 Rose had never pardoned M. de Duras an ill turn 
 the latter had served him. During one of the Court 
 journeys, the carriage in which Rose was riding 
 broke down. He took a horse ; but, not being a good 
 equestrian, was very soon pitched into a hole full of 
 mud. While there M. de Duras passed, and Rose 
 from the midst of the mire cried for help. But M. de 
 Duras, instead of giving assistance, looked from his 
 coach -window, burst out laughing, and cried out: 
 " What a luxurious horse thus to roll upon Roses! " 
 and with this witticism passed gently on through the 
 mud. The next comer, the Due de Coislin, was more 
 charitable ; he picked up the worthy man, who was so 
 furious, so carried away by anger, that it was some 
 time before he could say who he was. But the worst 
 
 T 2
 
 276 ANECDOTES. 
 
 was to come ; for M. de Duras, who feared nobody, 
 and whose tongue was accustomed to wag as freely as 
 that of Rose, told the story to the King and to all the 
 Court, who much laughed at it. This outraged Rose 
 to such a point, that he never afterwards approached 
 M. de Duras, and only spoke of him in fury. When- 
 ever he hazarded some joke upon M. de Duras, the 
 King began to laugh, and reminded him of the mud- 
 ducking he had received. 
 
 Towards the end of his life, Rose married his 
 granddaughter, who was to be his heiress, to Portail, 
 since Chief President of the Parliament. The mar- 
 riage was not a happy one ; the young spouse despised 
 her husband ; and said that instead of entering into a 
 good house, she had remained at the portal. At last her 
 husband and his father complained to Rose. He paid no 
 attention at first ; but, tired out out at last, said if his 
 granddaughter persisted in her bad conduct, he would 
 disinherit her. There were no complaints after this. 
 
 Rose was a little man, neither fat nor lean, with a 
 tolerably handsome face, keen expression, piercing 
 eyes sparkling with cleverness ; a little cloak, a satin 
 skull-cap over his grey hairs, a smooth collar, almost 
 like an Abbess, and his pocket-handkerchief always 
 between his coat and his vest. He used to say that it 
 was nearer his nose there. He had taken me into his 
 friendship. He laughed very freely at the foreign 
 Princes ; and always called the Dues with whom he was 
 familiar, "Your Ducal Highness," in ridicule of the 
 sham Highnesses. He was extremely neat and brisk, and 
 full of sense to the last ; he was a sort of personage.
 
 KING'S SON HAS AN INDIGESTION. 277 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. ; $ft 
 
 Monseigneur's Indigestion The King disturbed The Ladies of the Halle 
 Quarrel of the King and his brother Mutual reproaches Monsieur's 
 Confessors A new Scene of Wrangling Monsieur at table He is 
 seized with apoplexy The news carried to Marly How received by the 
 King Death of Monsieur Various forms of grief The Due de 
 Chartres. 
 
 ON Saturday, the 19th of March, in the evening, the 
 King was ahout to undress himself, when he heard 
 cries in his chamber, which was full of courtiers ; 
 everybody calling for Fagon and Felix. Monseigneur 
 had been taken very ill. He had passed the day at 
 Meudon, where he had eaten only a collation ; at the 
 King's supper he had made amends by gorging himself 
 nigh to bursting with fish. He was a great eater, like 
 the King, and like the Queens his mother and grand- 
 mother. He had not appeared after supper, but had 
 just gone down to his own room from the King's 
 cabinet, and was about to undress himself, when all 
 at once he lost consciousness. His valets, frightened 
 out of their wits, and some courtiers who were near, 
 ran to the King's chambers to his chief physician and 
 his chief surgeon with the hubbub which I have men- 
 tioned above. The King, all unbuttoned, started to 
 his feet immediately, and descended by a little dark, 
 narrow, and steep staircase towards the chamber of 
 Monseigneur. Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne
 
 278 THE DAMES DE LA HALLE. 
 
 arrived at the same time, and in an instant the 
 chamber, which was vast, was filled. 
 
 They found Monseigneur half naked : his servants 
 endeavouring to make him walk erect, and dragging 
 rather than leading him about. He did not know the 
 King, who spoke to him, nor anybody else ; and de- 
 fended himself as long as he could against Felix, who, 
 in this pressing necessity, hazarded bleeding him, and 
 succeeded. Consciousness returned. Monseigneur 
 asked for a confessor ; the King had already sent for 
 the Cure. Many emetics were given to him ; but two 
 hours passed before they operated. At half-past two 
 in the morning, no further danger appearing, the King, 
 who had shed tears, went to bed, leaving orders that he 
 was to be awakened if any fresh accident happened. 
 At five o'clock, however, all the effect having passed, 
 the doctors went away, and made everybody leave the 
 sick chamber. During the night all Paris hastened 
 thither. Monseigneur was compelled to keep his room 
 for eight or ten days ; and took care in future not to 
 gorge himself so much with food. Had this accident 
 happened a quarter of an hour later, the chief valet de 
 chambre, who slept in his room, would have found him 
 dead in his bed. 
 
 Paris loved Monseigneur, perhaps because he often 
 went to the opera. The fish-fags of the Halles thought it 
 would be proper to exhibit their affection, and deputed 
 four stout gossips to wait upon him : they were ad- 
 mitted. One of them took him round the neck and 
 kissed him on both cheeks ; the others kissed his hand. 
 They were all very well received. Bontems showed
 
 QUARREL OF THE KING AND HIS BROTHER. 279 
 
 them over the apartments, and treated them to a dinner. 
 Monseigneur gave them some money, and the King did 
 so also. They determined not to remain in debt, and 
 had a fine Te Deum sung at Saint Eustache, and then 
 feasted. 
 
 For some time past Monsieur had been sorely grieved 
 that his son, M. le Due de Chartres, had not been ap- 
 pointed to the command of an army. When M. de 
 Chartres married, the King, who had converted his 
 nephew by force into a son-in-law, promised him all 
 kinds of favours ; but except those which were written 
 down in black and white had not given him any. M. 
 de Chartres, annoyed at this, and at the manner in 
 which the illegitimate children were promoted over his 
 head, had given himself up to all kinds of youthful 
 follies and excesses. The King was surprised to find 
 Monsieur agree with his son's ambition ; but gave a 
 flat refusal when overtures were made to him on 
 the subject. All hope of rising to a high command 
 was thus forbidden to the Due de Chartres ; so that 
 Madame had a fine excuse for sneering at the weakness 
 which had been shown by Monsieur, who, on his part, 
 had long before repented of it. He winked, therefore, 
 at all the escapades performed or threatened by his son, 
 and said nothing, not being sorry that the King should 
 become uneasy, which was soon the case. 
 
 The King at last spoke to Monsieur ; and being 
 coldly received, reproached him for not knowing how 
 to exercise authority over his son. Upon this Monsieur 
 fired up ; and, quite as much from foregone decision as 
 from anger, in his turn asked the King what was to be
 
 280 MUTUAL REPROACHES. 
 
 done with a son at such an age : who was sick of 
 treading the galleries of Versailles and the pavement of 
 the Court ; of being married as he was, and of remain- 
 ing, as it were, naked, whilst his brothers-in-law were 
 clothed in dignities, governments, establishments, and 
 offices, against all policy and all example. His son, 
 he said, was worse off than any one in the King's 
 service, for all others could earn distinction ; added, 
 that idleness was the mother of all vice, and that it gave 
 him much pain to see his only son abandon himself to 
 debauchery and bad company; but that it would be 
 cruel to blame a young man, forced as it were into 
 these follies, and to say nothing against him by whom 
 he was thus forced. 
 
 Who w r as astonished to hear this straightforward 
 language ? Why, the King. Monsieur had never let 
 out to within a thousand leagues of this tone, which 
 was only the more annoying because supported by 
 unanswerable reasons that did not convince. Mastering 
 his embarrassment, however, the King answered as a 
 brother rather than as a sovereign ; endeavouring, by 
 gentle words, to calm the excitement of Monsieur. 
 But Monsieur was stung to the quick by the King's 
 neglect of M. de Chartres, and would not be pacified ; 
 yet the real subject of the annoyance was never once 
 alluded to, whilst the one kept it steadily in his mind, 
 and the other was determined not to yield. The con- 
 versation lasted very long, and was pushed very far ; 
 Monsieur throughout taking the high tone, the King 
 very gentle. They separated in this manner, Mon- 
 sieur frowning, but not daring to burst out ; the King
 
 FRATERNAL RELATIONS. 281 
 
 annoyed, but not wishing to estrange his "brother, much 
 less to let their squabble be known. 
 
 As Monsieur passed most of his summers at St. Cloud, 
 the separation which this occasioned put them at their 
 ease whilst waiting for a reconciliation ; and Monsieur 
 came less often than before, but when he did filled all 
 their private interviews with bitter talk. In public 
 little or nothing appeared, except that familiar people 
 remarked politeness and attention on the King's part, 
 coldness on that of Monsieur-^moods not common to 
 either. Nevertheless, being advised not to push mat- 
 ters too far, he read a lecture to his son, and made him 
 change his conduct by degrees. But Monsieur still 
 remained irritated against the King ; and this com- 
 pletely upset him, accustomed as he always had been 
 to live on the best of terms with his brother, and to be 
 treated by him in every respect as such except that 
 the King would not allow Monsieur to become a great 
 personage. 
 
 Ordinarily, whenever Monsieur or Madame were 
 unwell, even if their little finger ached, the King visited 
 them at once ; and continued his visits if the sickness 
 lasted. But now, Madame had been laid up for six 
 weeks with a tertian fever, for which she would do 
 nothing, because she treated herself in her German 
 fashion, and despised physic and doctors. The King, 
 who, besides the affair of M. le Due de Chartres, was 
 secretly angered with her, as will presently be seen, 
 had not been to see her, although Monsieur had urged 
 him to do so during those flying visits which he made 
 to Versailles without sleeping there. This was taken
 
 282 SCRUPULOUS CONFESSORS. 
 
 by .Monsieur, who was ignorant of the private cause 
 of indignation alluded to, for a puhlic mark of extreme 
 disrespect ; and being proud and sensitive, he was 
 piqued thereby to the last degree. 
 
 He had other mental troubles to torment him. For 
 some time past he had had a Confessor, who, although 
 a Jesuit, kept as tight a hand over him as he could. 
 He was a gentleman of good birth, and of Brittany, 
 by name le Pere du Trevoux. He forbade Monsieur, 
 not only certain strange pleasures, but many which he 
 thought he could innocently indulge in, as a penance for 
 his past life. He often told him that he had no mind 
 to be damned on his account; and that if he was 
 thought too harsh, let another Confessor be appointed. 
 He also told him to take great care of himself, as he 
 was old, worn out with debauchery, fat, short-necked, 
 and, according to all appearance, likely to die soon of 
 apoplexy. These were terrible words to a prince, the 
 most voluptuous and the most attached to life that had 
 been seen for a long time ; who had always passed his 
 days in the most luxurious idleness, and who was the 
 most incapable by nature of all serious application, of 
 all serious reading, and of all self-examination. He 
 was afraid of the devil ; and he remembered that his 
 former Confessor had resigned for similar reasons as 
 this new one was actuated by. He was forced now, 
 therefore, to look a little into himself, and to live in a 
 manner, that for him, might be considered rigid. From 
 time to time he said many prayers ; he obeyed his 
 Confessor, and rendered an account to him of the 
 conduct he had prescribed in respect to play and many
 
 A NEW QUARREL. 283 
 
 other things, and patiently suffered his Confessor's 
 long discourses. He became sad, dejected, and spoke 
 less than usual that is to say, only about as much as 
 three or four women so that everybody soon saw this 
 great change. It would have been strange if all these 
 troubles together had not made a great revolution in a 
 man like Monsieur, full-bodied, and a great eater, not 
 only at meals, but all the day. 
 
 On Thursday, the 8th of June, he went from St. 
 Cloud to dine with the King at Marly ; and, as was his 
 custom, entered the Cabinet, as soon as the Council of 
 State went out. He found the King angry with M. de 
 Chartres for neglecting his wife, and allowing her to 
 seek consolation for this neglect in the society of others. 
 M. de Chartres was at that time enamoured of Made- 
 moiselle de Sery, maid of honour to Madame, and 
 carried on his suit in the most open and flagrant 
 manner. The King took this for his theme, and very 
 stiffly reproached Monsieur for the conduct of his 
 son. Monsieur, who needed little to exasperate him, 
 tartly replied, that fathers who had led certain lives 
 had little authority over their children, and little 
 right to blame them. The King, who felt the point of 
 the answer, fell back on the patience of his daughter, 
 and said that at least she ought not to be allowed to 
 see the truth so clearly. But Monsieur was resolved 
 to have his fling, and recalled, in the most aggravating 
 manner, the conduct the King had adopted towards his 
 queen, with respect to his mistresses, even allowing 
 the latter to accompany him in his journeys the queen 
 at his side, and all in the same coach. This last remark
 
 284 EOYAL WRANGLING. 
 
 drove the King beyond all patience, and he redoubled 
 his reproaches, so that presently both were shouting to 
 one another at the top of their voices. The door of the 
 room in which they wrangled was open, and only covered 
 by a curtain, as was the custom at Marly, and the adjoin- 
 ing room was full of courtiers, waiting to see the King 
 go by to dinner. On the other side was a little salon, 
 devoted to very private purposes, and filled with valets, 
 who could hear distinctly every word of what passed. 
 The attendant without, upon hearing this noise, entered, 
 and told the King how many people were within hear- 
 ing, and immediately retired. The conversation did 
 not stop, however ; it was simply carried on in a lower 
 tone. Monsieur continued his reproaches ; said that 
 the King, in marrying his daughter to M. de Chartres, 
 had promised marvels, and had done nothing ; that for 
 his part he had wished his son to serve, to keep him out 
 of the way of these intrigues, but that his demands 
 had been vain ; that it was no wonder M. de Chartres 
 amused himself, by way of consolation, for the neglect 
 he had been treated with. Monsieur added, that he saw 
 only too plainly the truth of what had been predicted, 
 namely, that he would have all the shame and dishonour 
 of the marriage without ever deriving any profit from 
 it. The King, more and more carried away by anger, 
 replied, that the war would soon oblige him to make 
 some retrenchments, and that he would commence by 
 cutting down the pensions of Monsieur, since he 
 showed himself so little accommodating. 
 
 At this moment the King was informed that his 
 dinner was ready, and both he and Monsieur left the
 
 MONSIEUR AT TABLE. 285 
 
 room and went to table, Monsieur, all fury, flushed, 
 and with eyes inflamed by anger. His face thus crim- 
 soned induced some ladies who were at table, and some 
 courtiers behind but more for the purpose of saying 
 something than anything else to make the remark, 
 that Monsieur, by his appearance, had great need of 
 bleeding. The same thing had been said some time 
 before at Saint Cloud ; he was absolutely too full ; and, 
 indeed, he had himself admitted that it was true. Even 
 the King, in spite of their squabbles, had more than 
 once pressed him to consent. But Tancrede, his head 
 surgeon, was old, and an unskilful bleeder : he had missed 
 fire once. Monsieur would not be bled by him ; and 
 not to vex him, was good enough to refuse being bled 
 by another, and to die in consequence. 
 
 Upon hearing this observation about bleeding, the 
 King spoke to him again on the subject ; and said that 
 he did not know what prevented him from having him 
 at once taken to his room, and bled by force. The 
 dinner passed in the ordinary manner ; and Monsieur 
 ate extremely, as he did at all his meals, to say nothing 
 of an abundant supply of chocolate in the morning, and 
 what he swallowed all day in the shape of fruit, pastry, 
 preserves, and every kind of dainties, with which indeed 
 the tables of his cabinets and his pockets were always 
 filled. 
 
 Upon rising from the table, the King, in his carriage, 
 alone, went to Saint Germain, to visit the King and 
 Queen of England. Other members of the family went 
 there likewise separately; and Monsieur, after going 
 there also, returned to Saint Cloud.
 
 286 APOPLEXY OF MONSIEUR. 
 
 In the evening, after supper, the King was in his 
 cabinet, with Monseigneur and the Princesses, as at 
 Versailles, when a messenger came from Saint Cloud, 
 and asked to see the King in the name of the Due de 
 Chartres. He was admitted into the cabinet, and said 
 that Monsieur had been taken very ill -while at supper ; 
 that he had been bled, that he was better, but that an 
 emetic had been given to him. The fact was, Monsieur 
 had supped as usual with the ladies, who were at Saint 
 Cloud. During the meal, as he poured out a glass of 
 liqueur for Madame de Bouillon, it was perceived 
 that he stammered, and pointed at something with his 
 hand. As it was customary with him sometimes to 
 speak Spanish, some of the ladies asked what he said, 
 others cried aloud. All this was the work of an 
 instant, and immediately afterwards Monsieur fell in a 
 fit of apoplexy upon M. de Chartres, who supported 
 him. He was taken into his room, shaken, moved about, 
 bled considerably, and had strong emetics administered 
 to him, but scarcely any signs of life did he show. 
 
 Upon hearing this news, the King, who had been 
 accustomed to fly to visit Monsieur for a mere nothing, 
 went to Madame de Maintenon's, and had her waked 
 up. He passed a quarter of an hour with her, and 
 then, towards midnight, returning to his room, ordered 
 his coach to be got ready, and sent the Marquis de 
 Gesvres to Saint Cloud, to see if Monsieur was worse, 
 in which case he was to return and wake him; and 
 they went quietly to bed. Besides the particular rela- 
 tions in which they were at that time, I think that thtf 
 King suspected some artifice ; that he went in conse -
 
 THE NEWS CARRIED TO MARLY. 287 
 
 quence to consult Madame de Maintenon, and preferred 
 sinning against all laws of propriety to running the 
 chance of being duped. Madame de Maintenon did 
 not like Monsieur. She feared him. He paid her 
 very little court, and despite all his timidity and his 
 more than deference, observations escaped him at 
 times, when he was with the King, which marked his 
 disdain of her, and the shame that he felt of public 
 opinion. She was not eager, therefore, to advise the 
 King to go and visit him, still less to commence a 
 journey by night, the loss of rest, and the witnessing 
 a spectacle so sad, and so likely to touch him, and 
 make him make reflections on himself; for she hoped 
 that if things went quietly he might be spared the 
 trouble altogether. 
 
 A moment after the King had got into bed, a page 
 came to say that Monsieur was better, and that he had 
 just asked for some Schaffhausen water, which is 
 excellent for apoplexy. An hour and a half later, 
 another messenger came, awakened the King, and told 
 him that the emetic had no effect, and that Monsieur 
 was very ill. At this the King rose and set out at once. 
 On the way he met the Marquis de Gesvres, who was 
 coming to fetch him, and brought similar news. It 
 may be imagined what a hubbub and disorder there 
 was this night at Marly, and what horror at Saint 
 Cloud, that palace of delight ! Everybody who was at 
 Marly hastened as he was best able to Saint Cloud. 
 Whoever was first ready started together. Men and 
 women jostled each other, and then threw themselves 
 into the coaches without order and without regard to
 
 288 THE KING'S SORROW. 
 
 etiquette. Monseigneur was with Madame la Duchesse. 
 He was so struck by what had occurred, and its 
 resemblance to what he himself had experienced, that 
 he could scarcely stand, and was dragged, almost 
 carried, to the carriage, all trembling. 
 
 The King arrived at Saint Cloud before three o'clock 
 in the morning. Monsieur had not had a moment's 
 consciousness since his attack. A ray of intelligence 
 came to him for an instant, while his confessor, Father 
 du Trevoux, went to say mass, but it returned no 
 more. The most horrible sights have often ridiculous 
 contrasts. When the said Confessor came back, he 
 cried, " Monsieur, do you not know your Confessor ? 
 Do you not know the good little Father du Trevoux, 
 who is speaking to you ? " and thus caused the less- 
 afflicted to laugh indecently. 
 
 The King appeared much moved ; naturally he wept 
 with great facility; he was, therefore, all tears. He 
 had never had cause not to love his brother tenderly ; 
 although on bad terms with him for the last two 
 months, these sad moments recalled all his tenderness ; 
 perhaps too, he reproached himself for having hastened 
 death by the scene of the morning. And, finally, 
 Monsieur was younger than he by two years, and all 
 his life had enjoyed as good health as he, and better ! 
 The King heard mass at Saint Cloud ; and towards 
 eight o'clock in the morning, Monsieur being past all 
 hope, Madame de Maintenon and Madame la Duchesse 
 de Bourgogne persuaded the King to stay no longer, 
 and accordingly returned with him in his carriage to 
 Marly. As he was going out, and was showing some
 
 DEATH OF MONSIEUR. 289 
 
 signs of affection to M. de Chartres both weeping 
 very much that young Prince did not fail to take 
 advantage of the opportunity. " Oh, Sire ! " he ex- 
 claimed, embracing the King's thighs, " what will 
 become of me ? I lose Monsieur, and I know that 
 you do not like me." The King surprised, and much 
 touched, embraced him, and said all the tender things 
 he could. 
 
 On arriving at Marly, the King went with the 
 Duchesse de Bourgogne to Madame de Maintenon. 
 Three hours after came M. Fagon, who had been 
 ordered not to leave Monsieur until he was dead or 
 better which could not be but by miracle . The 
 King said, as soon as he saw him : " Well ! M. Fagon, 
 my brother is dead ?" "Yes, Sire," said Fagon, "no 
 remedy has taken effect." 
 
 The King wept a good deal. He was pressed to 
 dine with Madame de Maintenon ; but he would not 
 do so, and had his dinner, as usual, with the ladies. 
 The tears often ran down his cheek during the meal, 
 which was short. After this, he shut himself up in 
 Madame de Maintenon's rooms until seven o'clock, and 
 then took a turn in his garden. Afterwards he worked 
 with Chamillart and Pontchartrain ; and arranged all 
 the funeral ceremonies of Monsieur. He .supped an 
 hour before his customary time, and went to bed soon 
 afterwards. 
 
 At the departure from Saint Cloud of the King, all 
 the crowd assembled there little by little withdrew, so 
 that Monsieur dying, stretched upon a couch in his 
 cabinet, remained exposed to the scullions and the
 
 290 VARIOUS FOEMS OF GRIEF. 
 
 lower officers of the household, the majority of whom, 
 either by affection or interest, were much afflicted. 
 The chief officers and others who lost posts and 
 pensions filled the air with their cries ; whilst all the 
 women who were at Saint Cloud, and who lost their 
 consideration and their amusement, ran here and there, 
 crying, with dishevelled hair, like bacchantes. The 
 Duchesse de la Ferte, who had basely married her 
 daughter to one of Monsieur's minions, named La 
 Carte, came into the cabinet ; and, whilst gazing 
 on the Prince, who still palpitated there, exclaimed, 
 giving vent to her profound reflections, " Pardi ! 
 Here is a daughter well married ! " 
 
 " A very important matter ! " cried Chatillon, who 
 himself lost everything by this death. " Is this a 
 moment to consider whether your daughter is well 
 married or not ? " 
 
 Madame, who had never had great affection or great 
 esteem for Monsieur, but who felt her loss and her 
 fall, meanwhile remained in her cabinet, and in the 
 midst of her grief cried out, with all her might, " No 
 convent ! Let no one talk of a convent ! I will have 
 nothing to do with a convent ! " The good Princess 
 had not lost her judgment. She knew that, by her 
 compact of marriage, she had to choose, on becoming 
 a widow, between a convent and the chateau of Mon- 
 targis. She liked neither alternative ; but she had 
 greater fear of the convent than of Montargis; and 
 perhaps thought it would be easier to escape from the 
 latter than the former. She knew she had much to 
 fear from the King, although she did not yet know all,
 
 THE DUG DE CHAKTRES. 
 
 and although he had been properly polite to her, 
 considering the occasion. 
 
 Next morning, Friday, M. de Chartres came to the 
 King, who was still in bed, and who spoke to him in a 
 very friendly manner. He said that the Due must 
 for the future regard him as his father ; that he would 
 take care of his position and his interests ; that he had 
 forgotten all the little causes of anger he had had 
 against him ; that he hoped the Due would also 
 forget them ; that he begged that the advances of 
 friendship he made him might serve to attach him to 
 him, and make their two hearts belong to one another 
 again. It may easily be conceived how well M. de 
 Chartres answered all this. 
 
 u 2
 
 292 THE DEAD FORGOTTEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 The Dead soon forgotten Feelings of Madame de Maintenon And of the 
 Due de Chartres Of the Courtiers Madame's Mode of Life 
 Character of Monsieur Anecdote of M. le Prince Strange Interview 
 of Madame de Maintenon with Madame Mourning at Court Death 
 of Henriette d'Angleterre A Poisoning Scene The King and the 
 Accomplice. 
 
 AFTER such a frightful spectacle as had been wit- 
 nessed, so many tears and so much tenderness, nobody 
 doubted that the three days which remained of the 
 stay at Marly would be exceedingly sad. But, on the 
 very morrow of the day on which Monsieur died, some 
 ladies of the palace, upon entering the apartments of 
 Madame de Maintenon, where was the King with the 
 Duchesse de Bourgogne, about twelve o'clock, heard her 
 from the chamber where they were, next to hers, singing 
 opera tunes. A little while after, the King, seeing the 
 Duchesse de Bourgogne very sad in a corner of the 
 room, asked Madame de Maintenon, with surprise, 
 why the said Duchesse was so melancholy ; set him- 
 self to work to rouse her ; then played with her and 
 some ladies of the palace he had called in to join in 
 the sport. This was not all. Before rising from the 
 dinner table, at a little after two o'clock, and twenty- 
 six hours after the death of Monsieur, Monseigneur 
 the Due de Bourgogne asked the Due de Montfort if 
 he would play at brelan.
 
 FEELINGS OF MADAME DE MAINTENON. 293 
 
 " At brelan ! " cried Montfort, in extreme astonish- 
 ment ; " you cannot mean it ! Monsieur is still warm. 
 
 " Pardon me," replied the Prince, " I do mean it, 
 though. The King does not wish that we should be 
 dull here at Marly, and has ordered me to make 
 everybody play ; and, for fear that nobody should dare 
 to begin, to set, myself, the example ; " and with this 
 he began to play at brelan ; and the salon was soon 
 filled with gaming tables. 
 
 Such was the affection of the King: such that of 
 Madame de Maintenon ! She felt the loss of Monsieur 
 as a deliverance, and could scarcely restrain her joy ; 
 and it was with the greatest difficulty she succeeded in 
 putting on a mournful countenance. She saw that the 
 King was already consoled ; nothing could therefore be 
 more becoming than for her to divert him, and 
 nothing suited her better than to bring things back 
 into their usual course, so that there might be no 
 more talk of Monsieur nor of affliction. For propriety 
 of appearance she cared nothing. The thing could not 
 fail, however, to be scandalous ; and in whispers was 
 found so. Monseigneur, though he had appeared to 
 like Monsieur, who had given him all sorts of balls and 
 amusements, and shown him every kind of attention 
 and complaisance, went out wolf hunting the very day 
 after his death ; and, upon his return, finding play 
 going on in the salons, went without hesitation and 
 played himself like the rest. Monseigneur le Due de 
 Bourgogne and M. le Due de Berry only saw Mon- 
 sieur on public occasions, and therefore could not be 
 much moved by his loss. But Madame la Duchesse
 
 294 GRIEF OF THE DUG DE CHARTEES. 
 
 was extremely touched by this event. He was her 
 grandfather ; and she tenderly loved her mother, who 
 loved Monsieur ; and Monsieur had always been very 
 kind to her, and provided all kinds of diversion for 
 her. Although not very loving to anybody, she loved 
 Monsieur ; and was much affected not to dare to show 
 her grief, which she indulged a long time in private. 
 What the grief of Madame was, has already been seen. 
 As for M. de Chartres, he was much affected by his 
 loss. The father and son loved each other extremely. 
 Monsieur was a gentle and indulgent parent, who had 
 never constrained his son. But if the Due's heart 
 was touched, his reason also was. Besides the great 
 assistance it was to him to have a father, brother of 
 the King, that father was, as it were, a barrier between 
 him and the King, under whose hand he now found 
 himself directly placed. His greatness, his consi- 
 deration, the comfort of his house and his life, would, 
 therefore, depend on him alone. Assiduity, propriety 
 of conduct, a certain manner, and, above all, a very 
 different deportment towards his wife, would now 
 become the price of everything he could expect to 
 obtain from the King. Madame la Duehesse de 
 Chartres, although well treated by Monsieur, was glad 
 to be delivered from him ; for he was a barrier betwixt 
 her and the King, that left her at the mercy of her 
 husband. She was charmed to be quit of the duty of 
 following Monsieur to Paris or Saint Cloud, where she 
 found herself, as it were, in a foreign country, with 
 faces which she never saw anywhere else, which did not 
 make her welcome; and where she was exposed to the
 
 REGRETS OF THE COURT. 295 
 
 contempt and humour of Madame, who little spared 
 her. She expected for the future never to leave the 
 Court, and to be, not only exempt from paying her 
 court to Monsieur, but that Madame and her husband 
 would for the future be obliged to treat her in quite 
 another manner. 
 
 The bulk of the Court regretted Monsieur, for it 
 was he who set all pleasure a-going ; and when he left 
 it, life and merriment seemed to have disappeared like- 
 wise. Setting aside his obstinacy with regard to the 
 Princes, he loved the order of rank, preferences, and 
 distinctions : he caused them to be observed as much 
 as possible, and himself set the example. He loved 
 great people ; and was so affable and polite, that crowds 
 came to him. The difference which he knew how 
 to make, and which he never failed to make, be- 
 tween every one according to his position, contributed 
 greatly to his popularity. In his receptions, by his 
 greater or less, or more neglectful attention, and by 
 his words, he always marked in a flattering manner the 
 differences made by birth and dignity, by age and 
 merit, and by profession ; and all this with a dignity 
 natural to him, and a constant facility which he 
 had acquired. His familiarity obliged, and yet no 
 rash people ever ventured to take advantage of it. He 
 visited or sent exactly when it was proper ; and under 
 his roof he allowed a complete liberty, without injury 
 to the respect shown him, or to a perfect court air. 
 He had learned from the Queen, his mother, and well 
 remembered this art. The crowd, therefore, con- 
 stantly flocked towards the Palais Royal.
 
 MADAME S GLOOMY LIFE. 
 
 At Saint Cloud, where all his numerous household 
 used to assemble, there were many ladies who, to speak 
 the truth, would scarcely have heen received elsewhere, 
 but many also of a higher set, and great store of 
 gamblers. The pleasures of all kinds of games, and 
 the singular beauty of the place, where a thousand 
 caleches were always ready to whirl even the most 
 lazy ladies through the walks, soft music and good 
 cheer, made it a palace of delight, grace, and mag- 
 nificence. 
 
 All this, without any assistance from Madame, who 
 dined and supped with the ladies and Monsieur, rode 
 out sometimes in a caleche with one of them, often 
 sulked with the company, made herself feared for her 
 harsh and surly temper frequently even for her words ; 
 and passed her days in a little cabinet she had chosen, 
 where the windows were ten feet from the ground, 
 gazing perpetually on the portraits of Paladins and 
 other German princes, with which she had tapestried 
 the walls ; and writing every day with her own hand 
 whole volumes of letters, of which she always kept 
 autograph copies. Monsieur had never been able to 
 bend her to a more human way of life ; and lived 
 decently with her, without caring for her person in 
 any way. 
 
 For his part, Monsieur, who had very gallantly won 
 the battle of Cassel, and who had always shown 
 courage in the sieges where he had served, had only 
 the bad qualities that distinguish women. With more 
 knowledge of the world than wit, with no reading, 
 though he had a vast and exact acquaintance with
 
 CHARACTER OF MONSIEUR. 297 
 
 noble houses, their births and marriages, he was good 
 for nothing. Nobody was so flabby in body and 
 mind, no one so weak, so timid, so open to deception, 
 so led by the nose, so despised by his favourites, 
 often so roughly treated by them. He was quarrelsome 
 in small matters, incapable of keeping any secret, 
 suspicious, mistrustful ; fond of spreading reports in his 
 Court to make mischief, to learn what was really going 
 on or just to amuse himself; he fetched and carried 
 from one to the other. With so many defects, unre- 
 lated to any virtue, he had such an abominable taste, 
 that his gifts and the fortunes that he gave to those he 
 took into favour had rendered him publicly scandalous. 
 He neither respected times nor places. His minions, 
 who owed him everything, sometimes treated him 
 most insolently; and he had often much to do to 
 appease horrible jealousies. He lived in continual hot- 
 water with his favourites, to say nothing of the quarrels 
 of that troop of ladies of a very decided character 
 many of whom were very malicious, and most, more 
 than malicious with whom Monsieur used to divert 
 himself, entering into all their wretched squabbles. 
 
 The Chevaliers de Lorraine and Chatillon had both 
 made a large fortune by their good looks, with which 
 he was more smitten than with those of any other of 
 his favourites. Chatillon, who had neither head, nor 
 sense, nor wit, got on in this way, and acquired fortune. 
 The other behaved like a Guisard, who blushes at 
 nothing provided he succeeds ; and governed Monsieur 
 with a high hand all his life, was overwhelmed with 
 money and benefices, did what he liked for his family,
 
 298 CHARACTER OF MONSIEUR. 
 
 lived always publicly as the master with Monsieur ; 
 and as he had, with the pride of the Guises, their art 
 and cleverness, he contrived to get between the King 
 and Monsieur, to be dealt with gingerly, if not feared 
 by both, and was almost as important a man with the 
 one as with the other. He had the finest apartments 
 in the Palais Royal and Saint Cloud, and a pension of 
 ten thousand crowns. He remained in his apartments 
 after the death of Monsieur, but would not from pride 
 continue to receive the pension, which from pride was 
 offered him. Although it would have been difficult to 
 be more timid and submissive than was Monsieur with 
 the King for he flattered both his Ministers and his 
 mistresses he, nevertheless, mingled with his respect- 
 ful demeanor, the demeanor of a brother, and the free 
 and easy ways of one. In private, he was yet more 
 unconstrained; always taking an armed - chair, and 
 never waiting until the King told him to sit. In the 
 Cabinet, after the King appeared, no other Prince sat 
 besides him, not even Monseigneur. But in what 
 regarded his service, and his manner of approaching 
 and leaving the King, no private person could behave 
 with more respect ; and he naturally did everything 
 with grace and dignity. He never, however, was able 
 to bend to Madame de Maintenon completely, nor avoid 
 making small attacks on her to the King, nor avoid 
 satirising her pretty broadly in person. It was not 
 her success that annoyed him ; but simply the idea 
 that La Scarron had become his sister-in-law : this was 
 insupportable to him. Monsieur was extremely vain, 
 but not haughty, very sensitive, and a great stickler for
 
 M. LE PRINCE CAUGHT. 299 
 
 what was due to him. Upon one occasion he complained 
 to the King that M. le Due had for some time neglected 
 to attend upon him, as he was hound, and had boasted 
 that he would not do it. The King replied, that it 
 was not a thing to be angry about, that he ought to 
 seek an opportunity to be served by M. le Due, and if 
 he would not, to affront him. Accordingly, one morn- 
 ing at Marly, as he was dressing, seeing M. le Due 
 walking in the garden, Monsieur opened the window 
 and called to him. Monsieur le Due came up, and 
 entered the room. Then, while one remark was leading 
 to another, Monsieur slipped off his dressing-gown, 
 and then his shirt. A valet-de-chambre standing by, 
 at once slipped a clean shirt into the hands of M. le 
 Due, who, caught thus in a trap, was compelled to 
 offer the garment to Monsieur, as it was his duty to 
 do. As soon as Monsieur had received it, he burst 
 out laughing, and said " Good bye, cousin, go away. 
 I do not want to delay you longer." M. le Due felt the 
 point of this, and went away very angry, and continued 
 so in consequence of the high tone Monsieur after- 
 wards kept up on the subject. 
 
 Monsieur was a little round-bellied man, who wore 
 such high-heeled shoes that he seemed mounted always 
 upon stilts ; was always decked out like a woman, 
 covered everywhere with rings, bracelets, jewels ; with 
 a long black wig, powdered, and curled in front ; with 
 ribbons wherever he could put them ; steeped in per- 
 fumes, and in fine a model of cleanliness. He was 
 accused of putting on an imperceptible touch of rouge. 
 He had a long nose, good eyes and mouth, a full but
 
 300 INTERVIEW OF MADAME DE MAINTENON 
 
 very long face. All his portraits resembled him. I 
 was piqued to see that his features recalled those of 
 Louis XIII., to whom, except in matters of courage, 
 he was so completely dissimilar. 
 
 On Saturday, the llth of June, the Court returned 
 to Versailles. On arriving there the King went to visit 
 Madame, and her son and daughter-in-law separately. 
 Madame, very much troubled by reflection on her posi- 
 tion with regard to the King, had sent the Duchesse de 
 Ventadour to Madame de Maintenon. The latter re- 
 plied to the message only in general terms ; said she 
 would visit Madame after dinner, and requested that the 
 Duchesse might be present at the interview. It was 
 Sunday, the morning after the return from Marly. 
 After the first compliments, every one went out except 
 Madame de Ventadour. Then Madame requested 
 Madame de Maintenon to sit down ; and she must 
 have felt her position keenly to bring her to this. She 
 began the conversation by complaining of the indiffer- 
 ence with which the King had treated her during her 
 illness. Madame de Maintenon allowed her to talk 
 on ; and when she had finished, said that the King had 
 commanded her to say that their common loss effaced 
 all the past, provided that he had reason to be better 
 satisfied for the future, not only as regarded M. le Due 
 de Chartres, but other matters also. Upon this Madame 
 exclaimed and protested that, except in as far as re- 
 garded her son, she had never given cause for dis- 
 pleasure; and went on alternating complaints and 
 justifications. Precisely at the point when she was 
 most emphatic, Madame de Maintenon drew forth a letter
 
 AND MADAME. 301 
 
 from her pocket and asked if the handwriting was 
 known to her. It was a letter from Madame to the 
 Duchess of Hanover, in which she said, after giving news 
 of the Court, that no one knew what to say of the inter- 
 course between the King and Madame de Maintenon, 
 whether it was that of marriage or of concubinage ; and 
 then, touching upon other matters, launched out upon 
 the misery of the realm : that, she said, was too great to 
 be relieved. This letter had been opened at the post 
 as almost all letters were at that time, and are indeed 
 still and sent to the King. It may be imagined that 
 this was a thunderstroke to Madame : it nearly killed 
 her. She burst into tears ; and Madame de Maintenon 
 very quietly and demurely began to represent to her 
 the contents of the letter in all its parts, especially as 
 it was addressed to a foreign country. Madame de 
 Ventadour interposed with some twaddle, to give Madame 
 time to breathe and recover sufficiently to say something. 
 The best excuse was the admission of what could not 
 be denied, with supplications for pardon, expressions of 
 repentance, prayers, promises. But Madame de Main- 
 tenon had not finished yet. Having got rid of the 
 commission she had been charged with by the King, 
 she next turned to her own business : she asked 
 Madame how it was, that after being so friendly with 
 her a long time ago, she had suddenly ceased to bestow 
 any regard upon her, and had continued to treat her 
 with coldness ever since. At this, Madame thinking 
 herself quite safe, said that the coldness was on the 
 part of Madame de Maintenon, who had all on a 
 sudden discontinued the friendly intercourse which
 
 302 MADAME'S DISCOMFITURE. 
 
 formerly existed between them. As before, Madame 
 de Maintenon allowed Madame to talk her fill before 
 she replied. She then said she was about to divulge a 
 secret which had never escaped her mouth, although 
 she had for ten years been at liberty to tell it ; and she 
 forthwith related a thousand most oifensive things 
 which had been uttered against her by Madame to the 
 late Madame le Dauphine. This latter, falling out 
 with Madame, had related all these things to Madame 
 de Maintenon, who now brought them forward triumph- 
 antly. 
 
 At this new blow, Madame was thunderstruck, and 
 stood like a statue. There was nothing for it but to 
 behave as before that is to say, shed tears, cry, ask 
 pardon, humble herself, and beg for mercy. Madame 
 de Maintenon triumphed coldly over her for a long 
 time, allowing her to excite herself in talking, and 
 weeping, and taking her hands, which she did with 
 increasing energy and humility. This was a terrible 
 humiliation for such a haughty German. Madame de 
 Maintenon at last gave way, as she had always meant 
 to do after having satiated her vengeance. They 
 embraced, promised forgetfulness on both sides, and a 
 new friendship from that time. The King, who was 
 not ignorant of what had occurred, took back Madame 
 into favour. She went neither to a convent nor 
 to Montargis, but Avas allowed to remain in Paris, 
 and her pension was augmented. As for M. le Due 
 de Chartres, he was prodigiously well treated. The 
 King gave him all the pensions Monsieur had enjoyed, 
 besides allowing him to retain his own ; so that he had
 
 MOURNING AT COURT. 303 
 
 one million, eight hundred thousand livres a year; added 
 to the Palais Royal, St. Cloud, and other mansions. 
 He had a Swiss guard, which none hut the sons of 
 France had ever had before, in fact he retained all the 
 privileges his father had enjoyed, and he took the 
 name of Due D'Orleans. The pensions of Madame 
 de Chartres were augmented. All these honours so 
 great and so unheard of bestowed on M. de Chartres, 
 and an income of a hundred thousand crowns more 
 than his father, were due solely to the quarrel which 
 had recently taken place between Monsieur and the 
 King, as to the marriage M. de Chartres had made. 
 People accustom themselves to everything, but this 
 prodigious good fortune infinitely surprised every- 
 body. The Princes of the Blood were extremely 
 mortified. To console them, the King immediately 
 gave to M. le Prince all the advantages of a first 
 Prince of the Blood, and added ten thousand crowns 
 to his pension. 
 
 Madame wore deep mourning for forty days, after 
 which she threw it almost entirely aside, with the 
 King's permission. He did not like to see such sad 
 looking things before his eyes every day. Madame 
 went about in public, and with the Court, in her half- 
 mourning, under pretence that being with the King, 
 and living under his roof, she was of the family. But 
 her conduct was not the less thought strange in 
 spite of this excuse. During the winter, as the King 
 could not well go to the theatre, the theatre came to 
 him, in the apartments of Madame de Maintenon, 
 where comedies with music were played. The King
 
 304 PREVIOUS WIFE OF MONSIEUR. 
 
 wore mourning for six months, and paid all the 
 expenses of the superb funeral which took place on 
 the 13th of June. 
 
 While upon the subject of Monsieur, I will relate an 
 anecdote known to but few people, concerning the death 
 of his first wife Henriette d'Angleterre, whom nobody 
 doubts was poisoned.* Her gallantries made Monsieur 
 jealous ; and his tastes made her furious. His favour- 
 ites, whom she hated, did all in their power to sow 
 discord between them, in order to dispose of Monsieur 
 at their will. The Chevalier de Lorraine, then in the 
 prime of his first youth (having been born in 1643) 
 completely ruled over Monsieur, and made Madame 
 feel that he had this power. She, charming and young, 
 could not suffer this, and complained to the King, so 
 that M. de Lorraine was exiled. When Monsieur 
 heard this, he swooned, then melted into tears, and 
 throwing himself at the feet of the King, implored him 
 to recall M. de Lorraine. But his prayers were useless, 
 and, rushing away in fury, he retired into the country 
 and remained there until, ashamed of a thing so 
 publicly disgraceful, he returned to Paris and lived 
 with Madame as before. 
 
 Although M. de Lorraine was banished, two of his 
 intimate friends d'Effiat and the Count de Beuvron, 
 remained in the household of Monsieur. The absence 
 of M. de Lorraine nipped all their hopes of success and 
 
 * There appears to be some uncertainty on this subject ; and evidence has 
 been collected to prove that at any rate St. Simon is mistaken in saying that 
 at the time of her supposed murder, Henriette d'Angleterre was in perfect 
 health. The story, however, harmonises with the character of the Court.
 
 A SCENE OF POISONING. 305 
 
 made them fear that some other favourite might arrive 
 from whom they could hope for nothing. They saw 
 no chance that M. de Lorraine's exile would speedily 
 terminate ; for Madame (Henriette d'Angleterre) was in 
 greater favour with the King than ever, and had just 
 heen sent by him into England on a mysterious errand 
 in which she had perfectly succeeded. She returned 
 triumphant and very well in health. This gave the 
 last blow to the hopes of d'Effiat and Beuvron, 
 as to the return of M. de Lorraine, who had gone 
 to Italy to try to get rid of his vexation. I know 
 not which of the three thought of it first, but the 
 Chevalier de Lorraine sent a sure and rapid poison to 
 his two friends by a messenger who did not probably 
 know what he carried. 
 
 At St. Cloud, Madame was in the habit of taking a 
 glass of endive -water, at about seven o'clock in the 
 evening. A servant of hers used to make it, and then 
 put it away in a cupboard where there was some ordi- 
 nary water for the use of Madame if she found the 
 other too bitter. The cupboard was in an antechamber 
 which served as the public passage by which the apart- 
 ments of Madame were reached. D'Effiat took notice 
 of all these things : and on the 29th of June, 1670, 
 he went to the antechamber ; saw that he was unob- 
 served and that nobody was near, and threw the poison 
 into the endive-water ; then hearing some one approach- 
 ing, he seized the jug of common water and feigned to 
 be putting it back in its place just as the servant, 
 before alluded to, entered and asked him sharply what 
 he was doing in that cupboard. D'Effiat, without 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 THE KING AND THE ACCOMPLICE. 
 
 losing countenance, asked his pardon, and said, that 
 being thirsty and knowing there was some water in the 
 cupboard, he could not resist drinking. The servant 
 grumbled ; and d' Effiat, trying to appease him, entered 
 the apartments of Madame, like the other courtiers, 
 and began talking without the slightest emotion. , 
 
 What followed an hour afterwards does not belong 
 to my subject, and has made only too much stir 
 throughout all Europe. Madame died on the morrow, 
 June 30, at three o'clock in the morning; and the 
 King was profoundly prostrated with grief. Apparently 
 during the day, some indications showed him that 
 Purnon, chief steward of Madame, was in the secret of 
 her decease. Purnon was brought before him privately, 
 and was threatened with instant death, unless he dis- 
 closed all ; full pardon being on the contrary promised 
 him if he did. Purnon, thus pressed, admitted that 
 Madame had been poisoned, and under the circum- 
 stance I have just related. " And my brother," said 
 the King, " did he know of this ? " " No, sire, not one 
 of us was stupid enough to tell him ; he has no secrecy, 
 he would have betrayed us." On hearing this answer 
 the King uttered a great " ah !" like a man oppressed, 
 who suddenly breathes again. 
 
 Purnon was immediately set at liberty ; and years 
 afterwards related this narrative to M. Joly de Fleury, 
 procureur-general of the Parliament, by which magis- 
 trate it was related to me. From this same magistrate 
 I learned that, a few days before the second marriage of 
 Monsieur, the King took Madame aside and told her 
 that circumstance, assuring her that he was too honest
 
 PUENON DISMISSED. 307 
 
 a man to wish her to marry his brother, if that brother 
 could he capable of such a crime. Madame profited by 
 what she heard. Purnon remained in her service ; but 
 after a time she pretended to find faults in him, and 
 made him resign. He sold his post accordingly, to- 
 wards the end of 1674, to Maurel de Vaulonne, and 
 quitted her service. 
 
 x 2
 
 308 COURTING AN ABBESSE. 
 
 CHAPTEK XXIII. 
 
 Scandalous adventure of the Abbesse de la Joye Anecdote of Madame de 
 Saint Herem Death of James II. and recognition of his Son 
 Alliance against France Scene at St. Maur Balls and Plays- The 
 Electra of Longepierre Romantic adventures of the Abbe de Vatteville. 
 
 AT the breaking out of the war in Italy this year, 
 Segur bought the government of the Foix country from 
 Tallard, one of the generals called away to serve in that 
 war. Segur had been in his youth a very handsome 
 fellow ; he was at that time in the Black Musketeers, 
 and this company was always quartered at Nemours 
 while the Court was at Fontainebleau. Segur played 
 very well upon the lute ; but found life dull, neverthe- 
 less, at Nemours, made the acquaintance of the Abbesse 
 de la Joye, a place hard by, and charmed her ears and 
 eyes so much that she became with child by him. 
 After some months the Abbesse pleaded illness, left the 
 convent, and set out for the waters, as she said. Put- 
 ting off her journey too long, she was obliged to stop a 
 night at Fontainebleau ; and in consequence of the 
 Court being there, could find no accommodation, except 
 in a wretched little inn already full of company. She 
 had delayed so long that the pangs of labour seized 
 her in the night, and the cries she uttered brought all
 
 THE FATHER OF THE ABBESSE. 309 
 
 the house to her assistance. She was delivered of a 
 child then and there ; and the next morning this fact 
 was the talk of the town. 
 
 The Due de St. Aignan, one of the first of the 
 courtiers who learned it, went straight to the King, 
 who was brisk and free enough in those days, and 
 related to him what had occurred ; the King laughed 
 heartily at the poor Abbesse, who, while trying to hide 
 her shame, had come into the very midst of the Court. 
 Nobody knew then that her abbey was only four leagues 
 distant, but everybody learned it soon, and the Due 
 d' St. Aignan among the first. 
 
 When he returned to his house, he found long faces 
 on every side. His servants made signs one to another, 
 but nobody said a word. He perceived this, and asked 
 what was the matter ; but, for some time, no one dared 
 to reply. At last a valet de chambre grew bold enough 
 to say to St. Aignan, that the Abbesse, whose adventure 
 had afforded so much mirth, was his own daughter ; 
 and that, after he had gone to the King, she had sent 
 for assistance, in order to get out of the place where 
 she was staying. 
 
 It was now the Due's turn to be confused. After 
 having made the King and all the Court laugh at this 
 adventure, he became himself the laughing-stock of 
 everybody. He bore the affair as well as he could ; 
 carried away the Abbesse and her baggage ; and, as the 
 scandal was public, made her send in her resignation 
 and hide herself in another convent, where she lived 
 more than forty years. 
 
 That worthy man, St. Herem, died this year, at
 
 310 MADAME DE ST. HEREM. 
 
 his house in Auvergne, to which he had retired. 
 Everybody liked him ; and M. de Rochefoucauld had 
 reproached the King for, not making him Chevalier 
 of the Order. The King had confounded him with 
 Courtine, his brother-in-law, for they had married 
 two sisters; but when put right had not given the 
 favour. 
 
 Madame de St. Herem was the most singular 
 creature in the world, not only in face but in manners. 
 She half boiled her thigh one day in the Seine, near 
 Fontainebleau, where she was bathing. The river was 
 too cold ; she wished to warm it, and had a quantity 
 of water heated and thrown into the stream just above 
 her. The water reaching her before it could grow 
 cold, scalded her so much that she was forced to 
 keep her bed. 
 
 When it thundered, she used to squat herself under 
 a couch, and make all her servants lie above, one upon 
 the other, so that if the thunderbolt fell, it might have 
 its effect upon them before penetrating to her. She 
 had ruined herself and her husband, though they were 
 rich, through sheer imbecility ; and it is incredible the 
 amount of money she spent in her absurdities. 
 
 The best adventure which happened to her, among 
 a thousand others, was at her house in the Place 
 Eoyale, where she was one day attacked by a madman, 
 who, finding her alone in her chamber, was very enter- 
 prising. The good lady, hideous at eighteen, but who 
 was at this time eighty and a widow, cried aloud as well 
 as she could. Her servants heard her at last, ran to her 
 assistance, and found her all disordered, struggling in
 
 DEATH OF JAMES II. 311 
 
 the hands of this raging madman. The man was found 
 to be really out of his senses when brought before the 
 tribunal, and the story amused everybody. 
 
 The health of the King of England (James II.), 
 which had for some time been very languishing, grew 
 weaker towards the middle of August of this year, and 
 by the 8th of September completely gave way. There 
 was no longer any hope. The King, Madame de 
 Maintenon, and all the royal persons, visited him often. 
 He received the last sacrament with a piety in keeping 
 with his past life, and his death was expected every 
 instant. In this conjuncture the King made a resolve 
 more worthy of Louis XII., or Francis I., than of 
 his own wisdom. On Tuesday, the 13th of Sep- 
 tember, he went from Marly to St. Germain. The 
 King of England was so ill that, when the King was 
 announced to him, he scarcely opened his eyes for an 
 instant. The King told him that he might die in peace 
 respecting the Prince of Wales, whom he would recog- 
 nise as King of England, Scotland, and Ireland. The 
 few English who were there, threw themselves upon 
 their knees, but the King of England gave no signs of 
 life. The gratitude of the Prince of Wales and of his 
 mother, when they heard what the King had said, may 
 be imagined. Returned to Marly, ^the King repeated 
 to all the Court, what he had said. Nothing was 
 heard but praises and applause. 
 
 Yet reflections did not fail to be made promptly, if 
 not publicly. It was seen, that to recognise the Prince 
 of Wales was to act in direct opposition to the recog- 
 nition of the Prince of Orange as King of England,
 
 312 BURIAL OF JAMES II. 
 
 that the King had declared at the peace of Ryswick. 
 It was to wound the Prince of Orange in the tenderest 
 point, and to invite England and Holland to become 
 allies of the Emperor against France. As for the x 
 Prince of Wales, this recognition was no solid d*^ 
 advantage to him, but was calculated to make the 
 party opposed to him in England only more bitter and 
 vigilant in their opposition. 
 
 The King of England, in the few intervals of intel- 
 ligence he had, appeared much impressed by what the 
 King had done. He died about three o'clock in the 
 afternoon of the 16th September of this year, 1701. 
 He had requested that there might be no display at 
 his funeral, and his wish was faithfully observed. He 
 was buried on the Saturday, at seven o'clock in the 
 evening, in the church of the English Benedictines at 
 Paris, Rue St. Jacques, without pomp and attended by 
 but few mourners. His body rests in the chapel, like 
 that of the simplest private person, until the time, 
 apparently very distant, when it shall be transported to 
 England. His heart is at the Filles de Saint Marie, 
 of Chaillot. 
 
 Immediately afterwards, the Prince of Wales was 
 received by the King, as King of England, with all the 
 formalities and state with which his father before him 
 had been received. Soon afterwards he w r as recognised 
 by the new King of Spain. 
 
 The Count of Manchester, English ambassador in 
 France, ceased to appear at Versailles after this recog- 
 nition of the Prince of Wales by the King, and imme- 
 diately quitted his post, and left the country without
 
 ALLIANCE AGAINST FEANCE. 313 
 
 any leave-taking. King William heard, while in Holland, 
 of the death of James II., and of this recognition. He 
 was at table with some German princes and other lords 
 when the news arrived ; did not utter a word, except to 
 announce the death ; but blushed, pulled down his hat, 
 and could not keep his countenance. He sent orders 
 to London, to drive out Poussin, acting as French 
 ambassador, immediately ; and Poussin directly crossed 
 the sea and arrived at Calais. 
 
 This event was itself followed by the signing of the 
 great treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, against 
 France and Spain, by Austria, England, and Holland ; 
 in which they afterwards succeeded in engaging other 
 powers, which compelled the King to increase the 
 number of his troops. 
 
 Just after the return of the Court from Fontaine - 
 bleau, a strange scene happened at St. Maur, in a 
 pretty house there which M. le Due possessed. He 
 was at this house one night with five or six intimate 
 friends, whom he had invited to pass the night there. 
 One of these friends was the Comte de Fiesque. At 
 table, and before the wine had begun to circulate, a 
 dispute upon some historical point arose between him 
 and M. le Due. The Comte de Fiesque, who had some 
 intellect and learning, strongly sustained his opinion. 
 M. le Due sustained his ; and for want of better reasons, 
 threw a plate at the head of Fiesque, drove him from 
 the table and out of the house. So sudden and strange 
 a scene frightened the guests. The Comte de Fiesque, 
 who had gone to M. le Due's house with the intention 
 of passing the night there, had not retained a carriage,
 
 314 BALLS AND PLAYS AT MARLY. 
 
 went to ask shelter of the cure and got back to Paris 
 the next day as early in the morning as he could. It 
 may be imagined that the rest of the supper and of the 
 evening were tenible dull, M. le Due remained fuming 
 (perhaps against himself, but without saying so), and 
 could not be induced to apologise for the affront. It 
 made a great stir in society, and things remained thus 
 several months. After a while, friends mixed them- 
 selves in the matter ; M. le Due, completely him- 
 self again, made all the advances towards a recon- 
 ciliation. The Comte de Fiesque received them, 
 and the reconciliation took place. The most sur- 
 prising thing is, that after this they continued on as 
 good terms as though nothing had passed between 
 them. 
 
 The year 1702 commenced with balls at Versailles, 
 many of which were masquerades. Madame du Maine 
 gave several in her chamber, always keeping her bed 
 because she was in the family-way ; which made rather 
 a singular spectacle. There were several balls at 
 Marly, but the majority were not masquerades. The 
 King often witnessed, but in strict privacy, and always 
 in the apartments of Madame de Maintenon, sacred 
 dramas, such as " Absolon," " Athalie," &c. Madame 
 la Duchesse de Bourgogne, M. le Due d'Orleans, the 
 Comte and Comtesse d'Anjou, the young Comte de 
 Noailles, Mademoiselle de Melun, urged by the Noailles, 
 played the principal characters in very magnificent 
 stages dresses. Baron, the excellent old actor, in- 
 structed them and played with them. M. de Noailles 
 and his clever wife were the inventors and promoters
 
 LONGEPIERRE'S "ELECTRA." 315 
 
 of these interior pleasures, for the purpose of in- 
 truding themselves more and more into the society of 
 the King, in support of the alliance of Madame de 
 Maintenon. 
 
 Only forty spectators were admitted to the represen- 
 tations. Madame was sometimes invited by the 
 King, because she liked plays. This favour was 
 much sought after. Madame de Maintenon wished to 
 show that she had forgotten the past. 
 
 Longepierre had written a very singular piece called 
 " Electra," which was played on a magnificent stage 
 erected in Madame de Conti's house, and all the Court 
 flocked several times to see it. This piece was with- 
 out love, but full of other passions and of most 
 interesting situations. I think it had been written in 
 the hopes that the King would go and see it. But he 
 contented himself with hearing it talked about, and the 
 representation was confined to the hotel de Conti. 
 Longpierre would not allow it to be given elsewhere. 
 He was an intriguing fellow of much wit, gentle, 
 insinuating, and who, under a tranquillity and indif- 
 ference and a very deceitful philosophy, thrust himself 
 everywhere, and meddled with everything in order to 
 make his fortune. He succeeded in intruding himself 
 into favour with the Due d'Orleans, but behaved so 
 badly that he was driven away. 
 
 The death of the Abbe de Vatteville occurred at the 
 commencement of this year, and made some noise, on 
 account of the prodigies of the Abbe's life. This 
 Vatteville was the younger son of a Franche Comt6 
 family; early in life he joined the Order of the
 
 316 ADVENTURE OF VATTEVILLE. 
 
 Chartreux monks, and was ordained priest. He had 
 much intellect, but was of an impetuous spirit, and soon 
 began to chafe under the yoke of a religious life. He 
 determined, therefore, to set himself free from it, and 
 procured some secular habits, pistols, and a horse. 
 Just as he was about to escape over the walls of the 
 monastery by means of a ladder, the prior entered 
 his cell. Vatteville made no to-do, but at once 
 drew a pistol, shot the prior dead, and effected 
 his escape. 
 
 Two or three days afterwards, travelling over the 
 country and avoiding as much as possible the fre- 
 quented places, he arrived at a wretched road- side inn, 
 and asked what there was in the house. The landlord 
 replied " A leg of mutton and a capon." " Good ! " 
 replied our unfrocked monk; "put them down to 
 roast." 
 
 The landlord replied that they were too much for 
 a single person, and that he had nothing else for the 
 whole house. The monk upon this flew in a passion, 
 and declared that the least the landlord could do was 
 to give him what he would pay for ; and that he had 
 sufficient appetite to eat both leg of mutton and capon. 
 They were accordingly put down to the fire, the land- 
 lord not daring to say another word. While they were 
 cooking, a traveller on horseback arrived at the inn, 
 and learning that they were for one person, was much 
 astonished. He offered to pay his share to be allowed 
 to dine off them with the stranger who had ordered 
 this dinner ; but the landlord told him he was afraid 
 the gentleman would not consent to the arrangement.
 
 VATTEVILLE IN TURKEY. 317 
 
 Thereupon the traveller went up stairs and civilly 
 asked Vatteville if he might dine with him on paying 
 half of the expense. Vatteville would not consent, and 
 a dispute soon arose between the two ; to be brief, the 
 monk served this traveller as he had served the prior, 
 killed him with a pistol shot. After this he went down 
 stairs tranquilly, and in the midst of the fright of the 
 landlord and of the whole house, had the leg of mutton 
 and capon served up to him, picked both to the very 
 bone, paid his score, remounted his horse, and went 
 his way. 
 
 Not knowing what course to take, he went to Turkey, 
 and in order to succeed there, had himself circumcised, 
 put on the turban, and entered into the militia. His 
 blasphemy advanced him, his talents and his colour 
 distinguished him; he became Bacha, and the con- 
 fidential man in the Morea, where the Turks were 
 making war against the Venetians. He determined to 
 make use of this position in order to advance his own 
 interests, and entering into communication with the 
 generalissimo of the Republic, promised to betray into 
 his hands several secret places belonging to the Turks, 
 but on certain conditions. These were, absolution 
 from the Pope for all crimes of his life, his murders 
 and his apostasy included ; security against the Char- 
 treux and against being placed in any other Order ; 
 full restitution of his civil rights, and liberty to exercise 
 his profession of priest with the right of possessing all 
 benefices of every kind. The Venetians thought the 
 bargain too good to be refused, and the Pope, in 
 the interest of the Church, accorded all the demands of
 
 318 VATTEVILLE AT HOME. 
 
 the Bacha. When Vatteville was quite assured that 
 his conditions would be complied with, he took his 
 measures so well that he executed perfectly all he had 
 undertaken. Immediately after he threw himself into 
 the Venetian army, and passed into Italy. He was 
 well received at Rome by the Pope, and returned to 
 his family in Franche Comte, and amused himself by 
 braving the Chartreux. 
 
 At the first conquest of the Franche Comte, he 
 intrigued so well with the Queen-mother and the 
 ministry, that he was promised the Archbishopric of 
 Besangon; but the Pope cried out against this on 
 account of his murders, circumcision, and apostasy. 
 The King sided with the Pope, and Vatteville was 
 obliged to be contented with the abbey of Baume, 
 another good abbey in Picardy, and divers other 
 advantages. 
 
 Except when he came to the Court, where he was 
 always received with great distinction, he remained at 
 his abbey of Baume, living there like a grand seigneur, 
 keeping a fine pack of hounds, a good table, enter- 
 taining jovial company, keeping mistresses very freely; 
 tyrannising over his tenants and his neighbours 
 in the most absolute manner. The intendants 
 gave way to him, and by express orders of the 
 Court allowed him to act much as he pleased, even 
 with the taxes, which he regulated at his will, and in 
 his conduct was oftentimes very violent. With these 
 manners and this bearing, which caused him to be 
 both feared and respected, he would often amuse him- 
 self by going to see the Chartreux, in order to plume
 
 THE ABB CODILLE. 319 
 
 liimself on having quitted their frock. He played much 
 at hombre, and frequently gained codille (a term of the 
 game), so that the name of the Ahbe Codille was given 
 to him. He lived in this manner, always with the 
 same licence and in the same consideration, until nearly 
 ninety years of age.
 
 320 CHANGES IN THE ARMY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Changes in the Army I leave the Service Annoyance of the King The 
 medallic history of the reign Louis XIII. Death of William III. 
 Accession of Queen Anne The alliance continued Anecdotes of 
 Catinat Madame de Maintenon and the King. 
 
 THE changes which took place in the army after 
 the peace of Ryswick, were very great and very strange. 
 The excellence of the regiments, the merits of the 
 officers, those who commanded, all were forgotten by 
 Barbezieux, young and impetuous, whom the King 
 allowed to act as he liked. My regiment was dis- 
 banded, and my company was incorporated with that 
 of Count d' Uzes, brother-in-law of Duras, who looked 
 well after the interests of his relative. I was thus 
 deprived of command, without regiment, without com- 
 pany, and the only opportunity offered me was to serve 
 in a regiment commanded by St. Moris, where I 
 should have been, as it were, at the lowest step of the 
 ladder, with my whole military career to begin over 
 again. 
 
 I had served at the head of my regiment during 
 four campaigns, with applause and reputation, I am 
 bold enough to say it. I thought therefore I was 
 entitled to better treatment than this. Promotions
 
 I VENTURE TO LEAVE. 321 
 
 were made ; five officers, all my juniors, were placed 
 over my head. I resolved then to leave the service, 
 but not to take a rash step. I consulted first with 
 several friends before sending in my resignation. All 
 whom I consulted advised me to quit the service, but 
 for a long time I could not resolve to do so. Nearly 
 three months passed, during which I suffered cruel 
 anguish of mind from my irresolution. I knew that 
 if I left the army I should be certain to incur the 
 anger of the King, and I do not hesitate to say that 
 this was not a matter of indifference to me. The 
 King was always annoyed when anybody ceased to 
 serve ; he called it " quitting him ; " and made his 
 anger felt for a long time. At last, however, I deter- 
 mined on my course of action. 
 
 I wrote a short letter to the King, in which, without 
 making any complaints, I said that as my health was 
 not good (it had given me some trouble on different 
 occasions) I begged to be allowed to quit his service, 
 and said that I hoped I should be permitted to console 
 myself for leaving the army by assiduously attending 
 upon him at the Court. After despatching this letter I 
 went away immediately to Paris. 
 
 I learnt afterwards from my friends, that upon 
 receiving my letter the King called Chamillart to him, 
 and said with emotion : " Well ! Monsieur, here, is 
 another man who quits us ! " and he read my letter 
 word for word. I did not learn that anything else 
 escaped him. 
 
 As for me, I did not return to Versailles for a whole 
 week, or see the King again until Easter Monday.
 
 322 SINGULAR ANGER OF THE KING. 
 
 After his supper that evening, and when about to 
 undress himself, he paid me a distinction, a mere 
 trifle I admit, and which I should be ashamed to 
 mention if it did not under the circumstances serve as 
 a characteristic of him. 
 
 Although the place he undressed in was very well 
 illuminated, the chaplain at the evening prayers there 
 held in his hand a lighted candle, which he gave after- 
 wards to the chief valet-de-chambre, who carried it 
 before the King until he reached his arm-chair, and 
 then handed it to whoever the King ordered him to 
 give it to. On this evening the King, glancing all 
 around him, cast his eye upon me, and told the valet 
 to give the candle to me. It was an honour which he 
 bestowed sometimes upon one sometimes upon another, 
 according to his whim, but which, by his manner of 
 bestowing it, was always coveted, as a great distinction. 
 My surprise may be imagined when I heard myself 
 named aloud for this office, not only on this but on 
 many other occasions. It was not that there was any 
 lack of people of consideration to hold the candle ; but 
 the King was sufficiently piqued by my retirement not 
 to wish everybody to see that he was so. 
 
 For three years he failed not to make me feel to what 
 extent he was angry with me. He spoke to me no 
 longer ; he scarcely bestowed a glance upon me, and 
 never once alluded to my letter. To show that his 
 annoyance did not extend to my wife, but that it was 
 solely and wholly directed against me, he bestowed, 
 about eight months after, several marks of favour upon 
 Madame de Saint Simon. She was continually invited
 
 A MEDALLIC HISTORY. 323 
 
 to the suppers at Trianon an honour which had never 
 before been granted her. I only laughed at this. 
 Madame de Saint Simon was not invited to Marly, 
 because the husbands always, by right, accompanied 
 their wives there, apartments being given for both. At 
 Trianon it was different. Nobody was allowed to sleep 
 there except those absolutely in attendance. The King 
 wished, therefore, the better to mark by this distinction 
 that the exclusion was intended for me alone, and that 
 my wife had no part in it. 
 
 Notwithstanding this, I persevered in my ordinary 
 assiduity, without ever asking to be invited to Marly, 
 and lived agreeably with my wife and my friends. I 
 have thought it best to finish with this subject at once 
 now I must go back to my starting point. 
 
 At the commencement of this year (1702) it seemed 
 as though the flatterers of the King foresaw that the 
 prosperity of his reign was at an end, and that hence- 
 forth they would only have to praise him for his 
 constancy. The great number of medals that had 
 been struck on all occasions the most ordinary not 
 having been forgotten were collected, engraved, and 
 destined for a medallic history. The Abbes Talle- 
 mant, Toureil, and Dacier, three learned members of 
 the Academy, were charged with the explanation to be 
 placed opposite each of these medals, in a large volume 
 of the most magnificent impression of the Louvre. As 
 the history commenced at the death of Louis XIII., 
 his medal was placed at the head of the book, and 
 thus it became necessary to say something of him in 
 the preface. 
 
 T 2
 
 324 LOUIS xni. AND LOUIS xiv. 
 
 As it was known that I had a correct knowledge of 
 Louis XIII., I was asked to write that portion of the 
 preface which related to him. I consented to this, but 
 on condition that I should be spared the ridicule of it 
 in society, and that the matter should be faithfully kept 
 secret. I wrote my theme then, which cost me little 
 more than a morning, being of small extent. I had 
 the fate of authors : my writing was praised, and ap- 
 peared to answer all expectations. I congratulated 
 myself, delighted at having devoted two or three hours 
 to a grateful duty for so I considered it. 
 
 But when my essay was examined, the three gentle- 
 men above-named were affrighted. There are truths, 
 the unstudied simplicity of which emits a lustre 
 which obscures all the results of an eloquence which 
 exaggerates or extenuates ; Louis XIII. furnished such 
 abundance. I had contented myself by show- 
 ing them forth ; but this picture tarnished those which 
 followed so at least it appeared to those who had 
 gilded the latter. They applied themselves, therefore, 
 to cut out, or weaken, everything that might, by com- 
 parison, obscure their hero. But as they found at last 
 that it was not me they had to correct, but the thing 
 itself, they gave up the task altogether, threw aside my 
 writing, and printed the history without any notice 
 whatever of Louis XIII. under his portrait except to 
 note that his death caused his son to ascend the throne. 
 Reflections upon this kind of iniquity would carry me 
 too far. 
 
 In the early part of this year (1702), King William 
 (of England), worn out before his time with labours
 
 DEATH OF WILLIAM IH. 325 
 
 and business, in which he had been engaged all his 
 life, and which he had carried on with a capacity, an 
 address, a superiority of genius that acquired for him 
 supreme authority in Holland, the crown of England, 
 the confidence, and, to speak the truth, the complete 
 dictatorship of all Europe except France ; King 
 William, I say, had fallen into a wasting of strength 
 and of health which, without attacking or diminishing 
 his intellect, or causing him to relax the infinite 
 labours of his cabinet, was accompanied by a deficiency 
 of breath, which aggravated the asthma he had had for 
 several years. He felt his condition, and his powerful 
 genius did not disavow it. Under forged names he 
 consulted the most eminent physicians of Europe, 
 among others, Fagon ; who, having to do, as he thought, 
 with a cure, replied in all sincerity, and without dis- 
 simulation, that he must prepare for speedy death. 
 His illness increasing, William consulted Fagon anew, 
 but this time openly. The physician recognised the 
 malady of the cure he did not change his opinion, but 
 expressed it in a less decided manner, and prescribed 
 with much feeling the remedies most likely if not to 
 cure, at least to prolong. These remedies were 
 followed and gave relief; but at last the time had arrived 
 when William was to feel that the greatest men finish 
 like the humblest and to see the nothingness of what 
 the world calls great destinies. 
 
 He rode out as often as he could ; but no longer 
 having the strength to hold himself on horseback, 
 received a fall, which hastened his end by the shock it 
 gave him. He occupied himself with religion as little
 
 326 ACCESSION OF QUEEN ANNE. 
 
 as he had all his life. He ordered everything, and 
 spoke to his ministers and his familiars with a sur- 
 prising tranquillity, which did not abandon him until 
 the last moment. Although crushed with pain, he had 
 the satisfaction of thinking that he had consummated a 
 great alliance, which would last after his death, and 
 that it would strike the great hlow against France, 
 which he had projected. This thought, which nattered 
 him even in the hour of death, stood in place of all 
 other consolation, a consolation frivolous and cruelly 
 deceitful, which left him soon the prey to eternal truths ! 
 For two days he was sustained by strong waters and 
 spirituous liquors. His last nourishment was a cup of 
 chocolate. He died the 19th March, 1702, at ten 
 o'clock in the morning. 
 
 The Princess Anne, his sister-in-law, wife of Prince 
 George of Denmark, was at the same time proclaimed 
 queen. A few days after, she declared her husband 
 Grand Admiral and Commander-in-chief (generalis- 
 simo), recalled the Earl of Rochester, her maternal 
 uncle, and the Earl of Sunderland, and sent the 
 Count_of Marlborough, afterwards so well known, to 
 Holland to follow out there all the plans of his pre- 
 decessor. 
 
 The King did not learn this death until the Saturday 
 morning following, by a courier from Calais. A boat 
 had escaped, in spite of the vigilance which had closed 
 the ports. The King was silent upon the news, except 
 to Monseigneur and to Madame de Maintenon. On the 
 next day confirmation of the intelligence arrived from 
 all parts. The King no longer made a secret of it, but
 
 EFFECT OF WILLIAM'S DEATH. 327 
 
 spoke little on the subject, and affected much in- 
 difference respecting it. With the recollection of all 
 the indecent follies committed in Paris during the 
 last war, when it was believed that William had been 
 killed at the battle of the Boyne, in Ireland, the 
 necessary precautions against falling into the same 
 error were taken by the King's orders. 
 
 The King simply declared that he would not wear 
 mourning, and prohibited the Due de Bouillon, the 
 Marechal de Duras, and the Marechal de Lorges, who 
 were all related to William, from doing so an act pro- 
 bably without example. Nearly all England and the 
 United Provinces mourned the loss of William. Some 
 good republicans alone breathed again with joy in secret, 
 at having recovered their liberty. The grand alliance 
 was very sensibly touched by this loss, but found itself 
 so well cemented, that the spirit of William continued 
 to animate it ; and Heinsius, his confidant, perpetuated 
 it, and inspired all the chiefs of the republic, their 
 allies and their generals with it, so that it scarcely 
 appeared that William was no more. 
 
 I have related in its proper place all that happened 
 to Catinat, in Italy, when the schemes of Tesse and 
 M. de Vaudemont, caused him to be dismissed from the 
 command of the army. After the signing of the 
 alliance against France by the Emperor, England, and 
 Holland, the war took a more extended field. It 
 became necessary to send an army to the Rhine. 
 There was nothing for it but to have recourse to 
 Catinat. 
 
 Since his return from Italy, he had almost always
 
 328 RE -APPOINTMENT OF CATINAT. 
 
 lived at his little house of St. Gratien, beyond St. 
 Denis, where he bore with wisdom the injury that had 
 been done him and the neglect he had experienced 
 upon his return, surrounded by his family and a small 
 number of friends. Chamillart one day sent for him, 
 saying that he had the King's order to talk with him. 
 Catinat went accordingly to Chamillart, from whom he 
 learned that he was destined for the Rhine ; he refused 
 the command, and only accepted it after a long dispute, 
 by the necessity of obedience. 
 
 On the morrow, the 1 1th of March, the King called 
 Catinat into his cabinet. The conversation was amiable 
 on the part of the king, serious and respectful on the 
 part of Catinat. The King who perceived this, wished 
 to make him speak about Italy, and pressed him to 
 explain what had really passed there. Catinat ex- 
 cused himself, saying that everything belonged to the 
 past, and that it was useless now to rake up matters, 
 which would give him a bad opinion of the people 
 who served him, and nourish eternal enmity. The 
 King admired the sagacity and virtue of Catinat, but, 
 wishing to sound the depths of certain things, and 
 discover who was really to blame, pressed him more 
 and more to speak out; mentioning certain things 
 which Catinat had not rendered an account of, and 
 others he had been silent upon, all of which had come 
 to him from other sources. 
 
 Catinat, who, by his conversation of the previous 
 evening with Chamillart, suspected that the King would 
 say something to him, had brought his papers to Ver- 
 sailles. Sure of his position, he declared that he had not
 
 INFLUENCE OF MADAME DE MAINTENON. 329 
 
 in any way failed to render account to Chamillart or to 
 the King, and detailed the very things that had just been 
 mentioned to him. He begged that a messenger might 
 be despatched in order to search his cassette, in which 
 the proofs of what he had advanced could be seen, 
 truths that Chamillart, if present, he said, would not 
 dare to disavow. The King took him at his word, and 
 sent in search of Chamillart. 
 
 When he arrived, the King related to him the con- 
 versation that had just taken place. Chamillart replied 
 with an embarrassed voice, that there was no necessity 
 to wait for the cassette of Catinat, for he admitted that 
 the accusation against him was true in every respect. 
 The King, much astonished, reproved him for his infi- 
 delity, in keeping silence upon these comments, whereby 
 Catinat had lost his favour. Chamillart, his eyes 
 lowered, allowed the King to say on ; but as he felt that 
 his anger was rising, said, " Sire, you are right ; but it 
 is not my fault." 
 
 " And whose is it, then ?" replied the King warmly. 
 " Is it mine ? " 
 
 " Certainly not, Sire," said Chamillart, trembling ; 
 " but I am bold enough to tell you, with the most exact 
 truth, that it is not mine." 
 
 The King insisting, Chamillart was obliged to explain, 
 that having shown the letters of Catinat to Madame de 
 Maintenon, she had commanded him to keep them from 
 his Majesty, and to say not a syllable about them. 
 Chamillart added, that Madame de Maintenon was not 
 far off, and supplicated the King to ask her the truth of 
 this matter.
 
 380 CATINAT AND CHAMILLART. 
 
 In his turn, the King was now more embarrassed 
 than Chamillart ; lowering his voice, he said that it was 
 inconceivable how Madame de Maintenon felt inter- 
 ested in his comfort, and endeavoured to keep from him 
 everything that might vex him, and without showing 
 any more displeasure, turned to Marshal Catinat, said 
 he was delighted with an explanation which showed 
 that nobody was wrong; addressed several gracious 
 remarks to the Marshal ; begged him to remain on 
 good terms with Chamillart, and hastened to quit them 
 and enter into his private cabinet. 
 
 Catinat, more ashamed of what he had just heard 
 and seen than pleased with a justification so complete, 
 paid some compliments to Chamillart, who, out of his 
 wits at the perilous explanation he had given, received 
 them, and returned them as well as he could. They 
 left the cabinet soon after, and the selection of Catinat 
 by the King for the command of the army of the Rhine 
 was declared. 
 
 Reflections upon this affair present themselves of 
 their own accord. The King verified what had been 
 said that very evening with Madame de Maintenon. 
 They were only on better terms than ever in conse- 
 quence. She approved of Chamillart for avowing all ; 
 and this minister was only the better treated afterwards 
 by the King and by Madame de Maintenon. 
 
 As for Catinat, he took the command he had been 
 called to, but did not remain long in it. The expla- 
 nations that had passed, all the more dangerous because 
 in his favour, were not of a kind to prove otherwise 
 than hurtful to him. He soon resigned his command,
 
 CATINAT RETURNS TO ST. GRATIEN. 331 
 
 finding himself too much obstructed to do anything, and 
 retired to his house of St. Gratien, near St. Denis, 
 which he scarcely ever left, and where he saw only a 
 few private friends, sorry that he had ever left it, and 
 that he had listened to the cajoleries of the King.
 
 832 DEATH OF THE DUG DE COISLIX. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Anecdote of Canaples Death of the Due de Coislin Anecdotes of his 
 unbearable Politeness Eccentric Character President de Novion 
 Death of M. de Lorges Death of the Duchesse de Gesvres. 
 
 CAXAPLES, brother of the Marechal de Crequi, 
 wished to marry Mademoiselle de Yivonne, who was no 
 longer young, but was distinguished by talent, virtue, 
 and high birth ; she had not a penny. The Cardinal 
 de Coislin, thinking Canaples too old to marry, told 
 him so. Canaples said he wanted to have children. 
 " Children ! " exclaimed the Cardinal. " But she is so 
 virtuous ! " Everybody burst out laughing ; and the 
 more willingly, as the Cardinal, very pure in his man- 
 ners, was still more so in his language. His saying 
 was verified by the event : the marriage proved sterile. 
 
 The Due de Coislin died about this time. I have 
 related in its proper place an adventure that happened 
 to bim and his brother, the Chevalier de Ceislin : now 
 I will say something more of the Due. He was a very 
 little man, of much humour and virtue, but of a 
 politeness that was unendurable, and that passed all 
 bounds, though not incompatible with dignity. He 
 had been Lieutenant- General in the army. Upon 
 one occasion, after a battle, in which he had taken
 
 ODD CONFLICT OF POLITENESS. 333 
 
 part, one of the Rhingraves who had been made pri- 
 soner, fell to his lot. The Due de Coislin wished to 
 give up to the other his bed, which consisted indeed of 
 but a mattress. They complimented each other so 
 much, the one pressing, the other refusing, that in 
 the end they both slept upon the ground, leaving the 
 mattress between them. The Rhingrave in due time 
 came to Paris and called on the Due de Coislin. "When 
 he was going, there was such a profusion of compli- 
 ments, and the Due insisted so much on seeing him 
 out, that the Rhingrave, as a last resource, ran out of 
 the room, and double locked the door outside. M. 
 de Coislin was not thus to be outdone. His apartments 
 were only a few feet above the ground. He opened the 
 window accordingly, leaped out into the court, and 
 arrived thus at the entrance door before the Rhingrave, 
 who thought the devil must have carried him there. 
 The Due de Coislin, however, had managed to put his 
 thumb out of joint by this leap. He called in Felix, 
 chief surgeon of the King, who soon put the thumb to 
 rights. Soon afterwards Felix made a call upon M. de 
 Coislin to see how he was, and found that the cure was 
 perfect. As he was about to leave, M. de Coislin must 
 needs open the door for him. Felix, with a shower of 
 bows, tried hard to prevent this, and while they were 
 thus vieing in politeness, each with a hand upon the 
 door, the Due suddenly drew back ; he had put his 
 thumb out of joint again, and Felix was obliged to 
 attend to it on the spot ! It may be imagined what 
 laughter this story caused the King, and everybody 
 else, when it became known.
 
 334 OUTRAGEOUS CIVILITY. 
 
 There was no end to the outrageous civilities of M. 
 de Coislin. On returning from Fontainebleau one 
 day, we, that is Madame de Saint Simon and myself, 
 encountered M. de Coislin and his son, M. de Metz, on 
 foot upon the pavement of Ponthierry, where their coach 
 had broken down. We sent word, accordingly, that we 
 should be glad to accommodate them in ours. But 
 message followed message on both sides; and at last 
 I was compelled to alight and to walk through the mud, 
 begging them to mount into my coach. M. de Coislin, 
 yielding to my prayers, consented to this. M. de 
 Metz was furious with him for his compliments, and at 
 last prevailed on him. When M. de Coislin had 
 accepted my offer and we had nothing more to do than 
 to gain the coach, he began to capitulate, and to protest 
 that he would not displace the two young ladies he saw 
 seated in the vehicle. I told him that the two young 
 ladies were chamber-maids, who could well afford to 
 wait until the other carriage was mended, and then 
 continue their journey in that. But he would not hear 
 of this ; and at last all that M. de Metz and I could do 
 was to compromise the matter by agreeing to take one 
 of the chamber-maids with us. When we arrived at 
 the coach, they both descended, in order to allow us to 
 mount. During the compliments that passed and 
 they were not short I told the servant who held the 
 coach-door open, to close it as soon as I was inside, 
 and to order the coachman to drive on at once. This 
 was done ; but M. de Coislin immediately began to cry 
 aloud that he would jump out if we did not stop for 
 the young ladies ; and he set himself to do so in such
 
 LAST TOUCH. 335 
 
 an odd manner, that I had only time to catch hold of 
 the belt of his breeches and hold him back ; but he still, 
 with his head hanging out of the window, exclaimed 
 that he would leap out, and pulled against me. At 
 this absurdity I called to the coachman to stop ; the 
 Due with difficulty recovered himself, and persisted 
 that he would have thrown himself out. The chamber- 
 maid was ordered to mount, and mount 'she did, all 
 covered with mud, which daubed us ; and she nearly 
 crushed M. de Metz and me in this carriage fit only 
 for four. 
 
 M. de Coislin could not bear that at parting anybody 
 should give him the " last touch ;" a piece of sport, 
 rarely cared for except in early youth, and out of which 
 arises a chase by the person touched, in order to catch 
 him by whom he has been touched. One evening, 
 when the Court was at Nancy, and just as everybody 
 was going to bed, M. de Longueville spoke a few words 
 in private to two of his torch bearers, and then touching 
 the Due de Coislin, said he had given him the last 
 touch, and scampered away, the Due hotly pursuing 
 him. Once a little in advance, M. de Longueville hid 
 himself in a doorway, allowed M. de Coislin to pass on, 
 and then went quietly home to bed. Meanwhile, the 
 Due, lighted by the torch-bearers, searched for M. de 
 Longueville all over the town, but meeting with no 
 success, was obliged to give up the chase, and went 
 home all in a sweat. He was obliged of course to 
 laugh a good deal at this joke, but he evidently did not 
 like it over much. 
 
 "With all his politeness, which was in no way put on,
 
 336 CHARACTER OF M. DE COISLIN. 
 
 M. de Coislin could, when he pleased, show a great 
 deal of firmness, and a resolution to maintain his 
 proper dignity worthy of much praise. At Nancy, on 
 this same occasion, the Due de Crequi, not finding 
 apartments provided for him to his taste on arriving in 
 town, went, in his brutal manner, and seized upon 
 those allotted to the Due de Coislin. The Due, arriv- 
 ing a moment after, found his servants turned into the 
 street, and soon learned who had sent them there. M, 
 de Crequi had precedence of him in rank ; he said not 
 a word, therefore, hut went to the apartments provided 
 for the Marechal de Crequi (brother of the other), served 
 him exactly as he himself had just been served, and 
 took up his quarters there. The Marechal de Crequi 
 arrived in his turn, learned what had occurred, and 
 immediately seized upon the apartments of Cavoye, in 
 order to teach him how to provide quarters in future 
 so as to avoid all disputes. 
 
 On another occasion, M. de Coislin went to the Sor- 
 bonne to listen to a thesis sustained by the second son 
 of M. de Bouillon. When persons of distinction gave 
 these discourses, it was customary for the Princes of the 
 Blood, and for many of the Court to go and hear them. 
 M. de Coisliii was at that time almost last in order 
 of precedence among the' Dukes. When he took 
 his seat, therefore, knowing that a number of them 
 would probably arrive, he left several rows of vacant 
 places in front of him, and sat himself down. Imme- 
 diately afterwards, Novion, chief president of the par- 
 liament arrived, and seated himself in front of M. de 
 Coislin. Astonished at this act of madness, M. de
 
 A QUARREL FOR PRECEDENCE. 337 
 
 Coislin said not a word, but took an arm-chair, and, 
 while Novion turned his head to speak to Cardinal de 
 Bouillon, placed that arm-chair right in front of the 
 chief president, in such a manner, that he was as it 
 were imprisoned, and unable to stir. M. de Coislin 
 then sat down. This was done so rapidly, that nobody 
 saw it until it was finished. When once it was observed, 
 a great stir arose. Cardinal de Bouillon tried to inter- 
 vene. M. de Coislin replied, that since the chief presi- 
 dent had forgotten his position he must be taught it, 
 and would not budge. The other presidents were in a 
 fright, and Novion. enraged by the offence put on him, 
 knew not what to do. It was in vain that Cardinal de 
 Bouillon on one side, and his brother on the other, 
 tried to persuade M. de Coislin to give way. He 
 would not listen to them. They sent a message to 
 him to say that somebody wanted to see him at the 
 door on most important business. But this had no 
 effect. " There is no business so important," replied 
 M. de Coislin, " as that of teaching M. le Premier 
 President what he owes me, and nothing will make me 
 go from this place unless M. le President, whom you 
 see behind me, goes away first." 
 
 At last M. le Prince was sent for, and he with much 
 persuasion endeavoured to induce M. de Coislin to 
 release the chief president from his prison. But for 
 some time M. de Coislin would listen as little to M. le 
 Prince as he had listened to the others, and threatened 
 to keep Novion thus shut up during all the thesis. 
 At length he consented to set the chief president free, 
 but only on condition that he left the building imme- 
 
 VOL. I. Z
 
 338 THE END OF THE STORY. 
 
 diately ; that M. le Prince should guarantee this ; and 
 that no "juggling tricks " (that was the term he made 
 use of), should be played off to defeat the agreement. 
 M. le Prince at once gave his word that everything 
 should be as he required, and M. de Coislin then rose, 
 moved away his arm chair, and said to the Chief 
 President, " Go away, sir ! go away, sir ! " Novion 
 did on the instant go away, in the utmost confusion, 
 and jumped into his coach. M. de Coislin thereupon 
 took back his chair to its former position and composed 
 himself to listen again. 
 
 On every side M. de Coislin was praised for the 
 firmness he had shown. The Princes of the Blood 
 called upon him the same evening, and complimented 
 him for the course he had adopted ; and so many 
 other visitors came during the evening that his house 
 was quite full until a late hour. On the morrow the 
 King also praised him for his conduct, and severely 
 blamed the Chief President. Nay more, he com- 
 manded the latter to go to M. de Coislin, at his house, 
 and beg pardon of him. It is easy to comprehend the 
 shame and despair of Novion at being ordered to take 
 so humiliating a step, especially after what had already 
 happened to him. He prevailed upon M. de Coislin, 
 through the mediation of friends, to spare him this 
 pain, and M. de Coislin had the generosity to do so. 
 He agreed therefore that when Novion called upon him 
 he would pretend to be out, and this was done. The 
 King, when he heard of it, praised very highly the 
 forbearance of the Due. 
 
 He was not an old man when he died, but was
 
 MADAME AT THE PLAY. 339 
 
 eaten up with the gout, which he sometimes had in his- 
 eyes, in his nose, and in his tongue. When in this 
 state, his room was filled with the best company. He 
 was very generally liked, was truth itself in his 
 dealings and his words, and was one of my friends as 
 he had been the friend of my father before me. 
 
 The President de Novion, above alluded to, was a 
 man given up to iniquity, whom' money and obscure 
 mistresses alone influenced. Lawyers complained of 
 his caprices, and pleaders of his injustice. At last he 
 went so far as to change decisions of the court when 
 they were given him to sign, which was not found out 
 for some time, but which led to his disgrace. He was 
 replaced by Harlay in 1689 ; and lived in ignominy for 
 four years more. 
 
 About this time died Petit, a great physician, who 
 had wit, knowledge, experience, and probity ; and yet 
 lived to the last without being ever brought to admit 
 the circulation of the blood. 
 
 A rather strange novelty was observed at Fontaine- 
 bleau : Madame publicly at the play, in the second 
 year of her mourning for Monsieur ! She made some 
 objections at first, but the King persuaded her, saying 
 that what took place in his palace ought not to be 
 considered as public. 
 
 On Saturday, the 22nd of October of this year (1702) 
 at about ten in the morning, I had the misfortune to 
 lose my father-in-law, the Marechal de Lorges, who died 
 from the effects of an unskilful operation performed 
 upon him for the stone. He had been brought up as a 
 Protestant, and had practised that religion. But he 
 
 z 2
 
 340 DEATH OF M. DE LORGES. 
 
 had consulted on the one hand with Bossuet, and on 
 the other hand with M. Claude, (Protestant) minister of 
 Charenton, without acquainting them that he was thus 
 in communication with both. In the end the argu- 
 ments of Bossuet so convinced him that he lost from 
 that time all his doubts, became steadfastly attached 
 to the Catholic religion, and strove hard to convert to 
 it all the Protestants with whom he spoke. M. de 
 Turenne, with whom he was intimately allied, was in a 
 similar state of mind, and, singularly enough, his doubts 
 were resolved at the same time, and in exactly the 
 same manner, as those of M. de Lorges. The joy of 
 the two friends, who had both feared they should be 
 estranged from each other when they announced their 
 conversion, was very great. The Comtesse de Roye, 
 sister to M. de Lorges, was sorely affected at this 
 change, and she would not consent to see him except 
 on condition that he never spoke of it. 
 
 M. de Lorges commanded with great distinction in 
 Holland and elsewhere, and at the death of M. de 
 Turenne, took for the time, and with great honour, his 
 place. He was made Marechal of France on the 21st 
 of February, 1676, not before he had fairly won that 
 distinction. The remainder of his career showed his 
 capacity in many ways, and acquired for him the 
 esteem of all. His family were affected beyond 
 measure at his loss. That house was in truth terrible 
 to see. Never was man so tenderly or so universally 
 regretted, or so worthy of being so. Besides my own 
 grief, I had to sustain that of Madame de Saint Simon, 
 whom many times I thought I should lose. Nothing
 
 THE DUCHESS DE GESVRES. 341 
 
 was comparable to the attachment she had for her 
 father, or the tenderness he had for her ; nothing more 
 perfectly alike than their hearts and their dispositions. 
 As for me, I loved him as a father, and he loved me as 
 a son with the most entire and sweetest confidence. 
 
 About the same time died the Duchesse de Gesvres, 
 separated from a husband who had been the scourge 
 of his family, and had dissipated millions of her 
 fortune. She was a sort of witch, tall and lean, who 
 walked like an ostrich. She sometimes came to Court, 
 with the odd look and famished expression to which 
 her husband had brought her. Virtue, wit, and dignity 
 distinguished her. I remember that one summer the 
 King took to going very often in the evening to 
 Trianon, and that once for all he gave permission to all 
 the Court, men and women, to follow him. There was 
 a grand collation for the Princesses, his daughters, who 
 took their friends there, and indeed all the women went 
 to it if they pleased. One day the Duchesse de Gesvres 
 took it into her head to go to Trianon and partake of 
 this meal ; her age, her rarity at Court, her accoutre- 
 ments, and her face, provoked the Princesses to make 
 fun of her in whispers with their fair visitors. She 
 perceived this, and without being embarrassed, took 
 them up so sharply, that they were silenced, and looked 
 down. But this was not all : after the collation she 
 began to talk so freely and yet so humorously about 
 them, that they were frightened, and went and made 
 their excuses, and very frankly asked for quarter. 
 Madame de Gesvres was good enough to grant them 
 this, but said it was only on condition that they learned
 
 342 PERFUME GARDENS. 
 
 how to behave. Never afterwards did they venture to 
 look at her impertinently. Nothing was ever so 
 magnificent as these soirees of Trianon. All the 
 flowers of the parterres were renewed every day ; and I 
 have seen the King and all the Court obliged to go 
 away because of the tuberoses, the odour of which 
 perfumed the air, but so powerfully, on account of their 
 quantity, that nobody could remain in the garden, 
 although very vast, and stretching like a terrace all 
 along the canal.
 
 THE PRINCE D'HARCOURT. 343 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 The Prince d'Harcourt His character, and that of his wife Odd Court 
 lady She cheats at play Scene at Fontainebleau Crackers at Marly 
 Snowballing a Princess Strange manners of Madame d'Harcourt 
 Rebellion among her servants A vigorous chambermaid. 
 
 THE Prince d'Harcourt at last obtained permission 
 to wait on the King, after having never appeared at Court 
 for seventeen years. He had followed the King in all his 
 conquests in the Low Countries and Franche-Comte ; 
 but he had remained little at the Court since his voyage 
 to Spain, whither he had accompanied the daughter of 
 Monsieur to the King, Charles II., her husband. The 
 Prince d'Harcourt took service with Venice, and fought in 
 the Morea until the Republic made peace with the Turks. 
 He was tall, well made ; and, although he looked like a 
 nobleman and had wit, reminded one at the same time 
 of a country actor. He was a great liar, and a libertine 
 in body and mind ; a great spendthrift, a great and im- 
 pudent swindler, with a tendency to low debauchery, 
 that cursed him all his life. Having fluttered about 
 a long time after his return, and found it impossible 
 either to live with his wife which is not surprising 
 or accommodate himself to the Court or to Paris, he 
 set up his rest at Lyons with wine, street-walkers, a 
 society to match, a pack of hounds, and a gaming-table
 
 344 THE PEINCE AT COURT. 
 
 to support his extravagance and enable him to live at 
 the expense of the dupes, the imbeciles, and the sons of 
 fat tradesmen, whom he could lure into his nets. Thus 
 he spent many years, and seemed to forget that there 
 existed in the world another country besides Lyons. 
 At last he got tired, and returned to Paris. The King, 
 who despised him, let him alone, but would not see 
 him ; and it was only after two months of begging for 
 him by the Lorraines, that he received permission to 
 present himself. His wife, the Princesse d'Harcourt, 
 was a favourite of Madame de Maintenon. The origin 
 of their friendship is traced to the fact that Brancas, 
 the father of the Princesse, had been one of the lovers 
 of Madame de Maintenon. No claim less powerful 
 could have induced the latter to take into her favour a 
 person who was so little worthy. Like all women who 
 know nothing but what chance has taught them, and 
 who have long languished in obscurity before arriving 
 at splendour, Madame de Maintenon was dazzled by 
 the very name of Princess, even if assumed : as to a 
 real Princess, nothing equalled her in her opinion. 
 The Princesse then tried hard to get the Prince invited 
 to Marly, but without success. Upon this she pre- 
 tended to sulk, in hopes that Madame de Maintenon 
 would exert all her influence ; but in this she was mis- 
 taken. The Prince accordingly by degrees got dis- 
 gusted with the Court, and retired into the provinces 
 for a time. 
 
 The Princesse d'Harcourt was a sort of personage 
 whom it is good to make known, in order better to lay 
 bare a Court which did not scruple to receive such as
 
 THE PRINCESSE D'HARCOURT. 345 
 
 she. She had once been beautiful and gay ; but though 
 not old, all her grace and beauty had vanished. The 
 rose had become an ugly thorn. At the time I speak of 
 she was a tall, fat creature, mightily brisk in her 
 movements, with a complexion like milk-porridge; 
 great, ugly, thick lips, and hair like tow, always sticking 
 out and hanging down in disorder, like all the rest of 
 her fittings out. Dirty, slatternly, always intriguing, 
 pretending, enterprising, quarrelling always low as 
 the grass or high as the rainbow, according to the per- 
 son with whom she had to deal : she was a blonde 
 Fury, nay more, a harpy : she had all the effrontery 
 of one, and the deceit and violence ; all the avarice and 
 the audacity ; moreover, all the gluttony, and all the 
 promptitude to relieve herself from the effects thereof ; 
 so that she drove out of their wits those at whose house 
 she dined ; was often a victim of her confidence ; and 
 was many a time sent to the devil by the servants of 
 M. du Maine and M. le Grand. She, however, was 
 never in the least embarrassed, tucked up her petticoats 
 and went her way ; then returned, saying she had been 
 unwell. People were accustomed to it. 
 
 Whenever money was to be made by scheming and 
 bribery, she was there to make it. At play she always 
 cheated, and if found out stormed and raged; but 
 pocketed what she had won. People looked upon her 
 as they would have looked upon a fish -fag, and did not 
 like to commit themselves by quarreling with her. At 
 the end of every game she used to say that she gave 
 whatever might have been unfairly gained to those who 
 had gained it, and hoped that others would do like-
 
 346 SCENE AT FOXTAINEBLEAU. 
 
 wise. For she was very devout by profession, and 
 thought hy so doing to put her conscience in safety ; be- 
 cause, she used to add, in play there is always some 
 mistake. She went to Church always, and constantly 
 took the Sacrament, very often after having played 
 until four o'clock in the morning. 
 
 One day, when there was a grand fete at Fontaine - 
 bleau, Madame la Marechale de Villeroy persuaded her, 
 out of malice, to sit down and play, instead of going to 
 evening prayers. She resisted some time, saying that 
 Madame de Maintenon was going ; but the Marechale 
 laughed at her for believing that her patron could see 
 who was and who was not at the chapel : so down they 
 sat to play. When the prayers were over, Madame de 
 Maintenon, by the merest accident for she scarcely 
 ever visited any one went to the apartments of the 
 Marechale de Villeroy. The door was flung back, and 
 she was announced. This was a thunderbolt for the 
 Princesse d'Harcourt. " I am ruined," cried she, unable 
 to restrain herself; " she will see me playing, and I 
 ought to have been at chapel ! " Down fell the cards 
 from her hands, and down fell she all abroad in her chair. 
 The Marechale laughed most heartily at so complete 
 an adventure. Madame de Maintenon entered slowty, 
 and found the Princesse in this state, with five or six 
 persons. The Marechale de Villeroy, who was full of 
 wit, began to say that, whilst doing her a great honour, 
 Madame was the cause of great disorder ; and showed 
 her the Princesse d'Harcourt in her state of discomfiture. 
 Madame de Maintenon smiled with majestic kindness, 
 and addressing the Princesse d'Harcourt, " Is this the
 
 CRACKERS AT MARLY. 347 
 
 way," said she, " that you go to prayers ?" Thereupon 
 the Princesse flew out of her half-faint into a sort of 
 fury ; said that this was the kind of trick that was 
 played off upon her ; that no doubt the Marechale 
 knew that Madame de Maintenon was coming, and for 
 that reason had persecuted her to play. " Perse- 
 cuted ! " exclaimed the Mare'chale, " I thought I could 
 not receive you better than by proposing a game ; it is 
 true you were for a moment troubled at missing the 
 chapel, but your tastes carried the day. This, Madame, 
 is my whole crime," continued she, addressing Madame 
 de Maintenon. Upon this, everybody laughed louder 
 than before. Madame de Maintenon, in order to stop 
 the quarrel, commanded them both to continue their 
 game ; and they continued accordingly, the Prin- 
 cesse d'Harcourt, still grumbling, quite beside herself, 
 blinded with fury, so as to commit fresh mistakes 
 every minute. So ridiculous an adventure diverted 
 the Court for several days ; for this beautiful Prin- 
 cesse was equally feared, hated, and despised. 
 
 Monseigneur le Due and Madame la Duchesse de 
 Bourgogne continually played off pranks upon her. 
 They put, one day, crackers all along the avenue of 
 the chateau at Marly, that led to the Perspective 
 where she lodged. She was horribly afraid of every 
 thing. The Due and Duchesse bribed two porters 
 to be ready to take her into the mischief. When 
 she was right in the middle of the avenue the 
 crackers began to go off, and she to cry aloud for 
 mercy ; the chairman set her down and ran for it. 
 There she was, then, struggling in her chair, furiously
 
 348 SNOWBALLING A PRINCESS. 
 
 enough to upset it, and yelling like a demon. At this 
 the company, which had gathered at the door of the 
 chateau to see the fun, ran to her assistance, in order 
 to have the pleasure of enjoying the scene more fully. 
 Thereupon she set to abusing everybody right and 
 left, commencing with Monseigneur and Madame la 
 Duchesse de Bourgogne. At another time, M. de 
 Bourgogne put a cracker under her chair in the salon, 
 where she was playing at piquet. As he was about to 
 set fire to this cracker, some charitable soul warned 
 him that it would maim her, and he desisted. 
 
 Sometimes they used to send about twenty Swiss 
 guards, with drums, into her chamber, who roused her 
 from her first sleep by their horrid din. Another time 
 and these scenes were always at Marly they waited 
 until very late for her to go to bed and sleep. She 
 lodged not far from the post of the Captain of the 
 Guards, who was at that time the Marechal de Lorges. 
 It had snowed very hard, and had frozen. Madame la 
 Duchesse de Bourgogne and her suite gathered snow 
 from the terrace which is on a level with their lodg- 
 ings ; and, in order to be better supplied, waked up to 
 assist them the Marechal's people, who did not let 
 them want for ammunition. Then, with a false key, 
 and lights, they gently slipped into the chamber of the 
 Princesse d'Harcourt ; and, suddenly drawing the 
 curtains of her bed, pelted her amain with snowballs. 
 The filthy creature, waking up with a start, bruised, 
 and stifled in snow, with which even her ears were 
 filled, with dishevelled hair, yelling at the top of her 
 voice, and wriggling like an eel, without knowing
 
 STRANGE MANNERS OF MADAME D'HARCOURT. 349 
 
 where to hide, formed a spectacle that diverted people 
 more than half an hour : so that at last the nymph 
 swam in her hed, from which the water flowed every- 
 where, slushing all the chamber. It was enough to 
 make one die of laughter. On the morrow she sulked, 
 and was more than ever laughed at for her pains. 
 
 Her fits of sulkiness came over her either when the 
 tricks played were too violent, or when M. le Grand 
 abused her. He thought, very properly, that a person 
 who bore the name of Lorraine, should not put herself 
 so much on the footing of a buffoon ; and, as he was a 
 rough speaker, he sometimes said the most abominable 
 things to her at table ; upon which the Princesse would 
 burst out crying, and then, being enraged, would sulk. 
 The Duchesse de Bourgogne used then to pretend to 
 sulk, too ; but the other did not hold out long, and 
 came crawling back to her, crying, begging pardon 
 for having sulked, and praying that she might not 
 cease to be a source of amusement ! After some time 
 the Duchesse would allow herself to be melted, and 
 the Princesse was more villainously treated than ever, 
 for the Duchesse de Bourgogne had her own way in 
 everything. Neither the King nor Madame de Main- 
 tenon found fault with what she did, so that the 
 Princesse d'Harcourt had no resource ; she did not 
 even dare to complain of those who aided in tor- 
 menting her ; yet it would not have been prudent in 
 any one to make her an enemy. 
 
 The Princesse d'Harcourt paid her servants so 
 badly, that they concocted a plan, and one fine day drew 
 up on the Pont Neuf. The coachmen and footmen
 
 350 A COURAGEOUS SERVANT GIRL. 
 
 got down, and came and spoke to her at the door, in 
 language she was not used to hear. Her ladies and 
 chambermaid got down, and went away, leaving her to 
 shift as she might. Upon this she set herself to 
 harangue the blackguards who collected, and was only 
 too happy to find a man, who mounted upon the seat 
 and drove her home. Another time, Madame de Saint 
 Simon, returning from Versailles, overtook her, walking 
 in full dress in the street, and with her train under her 
 arms. Madame de Saint Simon stopped, offered her 
 assistance, and found that she had been left by her 
 servants, as on the Pont Neuf. It was volume the 
 second of that story; and even when she came back 
 she found her house deserted, every one having gone 
 away at once by agreement. She was very violent 
 with her servants, beat them, and changed them 
 every day. 
 
 Upon one occasion, she took into her service a 
 strong and robust chambermaid, to whom, from the 
 first day of her arrival, she gave many slaps and boxes 
 on the ear. The chambermaid said nothing, but 
 after submitting to this treatment for five or six days, 
 conferred with the other servants ; and one morning, 
 while in her mistress's room, locked the door with- 
 out being perceived, said something to bring down 
 punishment upon her, and at the first box on the 
 ear she received, flew upon the Princesse d'Har- 
 court, gave her no end of thumps and slaps, knocked 
 her down, kicked her, mauled her from her head to her 
 feet, and when she was tired of this exercise, left her 
 on the ground, all torn and dishevelled, howling like a
 
 FAVOURITE OF MADAME DE MAINTENON. 351 
 
 devil. The chambermaid then quitted the room, 
 double-locked the door on the outside, gained the 
 staircase, and fled the house. 
 
 Every day the Princesse was fighting, or mixed up 
 in some adventures. Her neighbours at Marly said 
 they could not sleep for the riot she made at night ; 
 and I remember that, after one of these scenes, every- 
 body went to see the room of the Duchesse de Villeroy 
 and that of Madame de Espinoy, who had put their 
 bed in the middle of their room, and who related 
 their night vigils to every one. 
 
 Such was this favourite of Madame de Maintenon ; 
 so insolent and so insupportable to every one, but who 
 had favours and preferences for those who brought her 
 over, and who had raised so many young men, 
 amassed their wealth, and made herself feared even 
 by the Prince and minister.
 
 352 MADAME DES URSINS. 
 
 CHAPTEK XXVII. 
 
 Madame des Ursins Her Marriage and Character The Queen of Spain 
 Ambition of Madame de Maintenon Coronation of Philip V. A 
 Cardinal made Colonel Favourites of Madame des Ursins Her 
 complete triumph A mistake A despatch violated Madame des 
 Ursins in disgrace. 
 
 IN a previous page I have alluded to the Princesse 
 des Ursins, when she was appointed Camerera Ma} r or 
 to the Queen of Spain on her marriage. As I have 
 now to occupy myself more particularly with her, it 
 may be as well to give a description of this extraor- 
 dinary woman, which I omitted when I first spoke 
 of her. 
 
 Anne Marie de la Tremoille, was daughter of M. de 
 Noirmoutiers, who figured sufficiently in the troubles 
 of the minority, to be made a Due a brevet. She first 
 married M. Talleyrand, who called himself Prince de 
 Chalais, and who was obliged to quit the kingdom for 
 engaging in the famous duel against Messieurs de la 
 Frette. She followed her husband to Spain, where he 
 died. Having gone to Rome, she got into favour with 
 the Cardinals de Bouillon and d'Estrees, first on 
 account of her name and nation, and afterwards for 
 more tender reasons. In order to detain her at Rome, 
 these dignitaries thought of obtaining her an establish- 
 ment. She had no children, and almost no fortune,
 
 HER MARRIAGE. 353 
 
 they wrote to Court that so important a man as the Due 
 de Bracciano, Prince des Ursins, was worth gaming ; 
 and that the way to arrive at this result was to have 
 him married to Madame de Chalais. The Due was per- 
 suaded by the two Cardinals that he was in love with 
 Madame de Chalais : and so the affair was arranged. 
 Madame des Ursins displayed all her wit and charms 
 at Rome ; and soon her palace became a sort of court, 
 where all the best company assembled. It grew to be 
 the fashion to go there. The husband amidst all this 
 counts for not much. There was sometimes a little 
 disagreement between the two, without open rupture : 
 yet they were now and then glad to separate. This is 
 why the Duchesse de Bracciano made two journeys to 
 France : the second time she spent four or five years 
 there. It was then I knew her, or rather formed a par- 
 ticular friendship with her. My mother had made her 
 acquaintance during her previous visit. She lodged 
 near us. Her wit, her grace, her manners enchanted 
 me : she received me with tenderness and I was always 
 at her house. It was she who proposed to me a 
 marriage with Mile, de Royan, which I rejected for the 
 reason already given. 
 
 When Madame des Ursins was appointed Camerera 
 Mayor, she was a widow, without children. No one 
 could have been better suited for the post. A lady of 
 our court would not have done : a Spanish lady was 
 not to be depended on, and might have easily disgusted 
 the Queen. The Princesse des Ursins, appeared to 
 be a middle term. She was French, had been in 
 Spain, and she passed a great part of her life at Rome 
 
 TOL. I. A A
 
 354 CHARACTER AND MANNERS 
 
 and in Italy. She was of the house of La Trenioille : 
 her husband was chief of the house of Ursins, a 
 grandee of Spain, and Prince of the Soglio. She was 
 also on very good terms with the Duchess of Savoy, 
 and with the Queen of Portugal. The Cardinal 
 d'Estrees, also, was known to have remained her friend, 
 after having been something more in their youth ; and 
 he gave information that the Cardinal Portocarrero had 
 been much in love with her at Home, and that they 
 were then on very good terms. As it was, through the 
 latter Cardinal that it was necessary to govern every- 
 thing, this circumstance was considered very im- 
 portant. 
 
 Age and health were also appropriate ; and likewise 
 her appearance. She was rather tall than otherwise, a 
 brunette, with blue eyes of the most varied expression, 
 in figure perfect, with a most exquisite bosom ; her face, 
 without being beautiful, was charming ; she was extremely 
 noble in air, very majestic in demeanor, full of graces 
 so natural and so continual in everything, that I have 
 never seen any one approach her, either in form or 
 mind. Her wit was copious and of all kinds : she was 
 flattering, caressing, insinuating, moderate, wishing to 
 please for pleasing' sake, with charms irresistible when 
 she strove to persuade and win over ; accompanying 
 all this, she had a grandeur that encouraged instead of 
 frightening ; a delicious conversation, inexhaustible and 
 very amusing, for she had seen many countries and 
 persons ; a voice and way of speaking extremely agree- 
 able, and full of sweetness. She had read much, and 
 reflected much. She knew how to choose the best
 
 OF THE PRINCESSE DES URSINS. 355 
 
 society, how to receive them and could even have held 
 a court ; was polite, distinguished ; and above all was 
 careful never to take a step in advance without dignity 
 and discretion. She was eminently fitted for intrigue, 
 in which, from taste, she had passed her time at Rome ; 
 with much ambition, but of that vast kind, far above 
 her sex, and the common run of men a desire to 
 occupy a great position and to govern. A love for 
 gallantry and personal vanity were her foibles, and 
 these clung to her until her latest day ; consequently, 
 she dressed in a way that no longer became her, and as 
 she advanced in life, removed further from propriety 
 in this particular. She was an ardent and excellent 
 friend of a friendship that time and absence never 
 enfeebled; and consequently, an implacable enemy, 
 pursuing her hatred to the infernal regions. While 
 caring little for the means by which she gained her 
 ends, she tried as much as possible to reach them by 
 honest means. Secret, not only for herself, but for 
 her friends, she was yet of a decorous gaiety, and so 
 governed her humours, that at all times and in every 
 thing she was mistress of herself. Such was the 
 Princesse des Ursins. 
 
 From the first moment on which she entered the 
 service of the Queen of Spain, it became her desire to 
 govern not only the Queen, but the King ; and by this 
 means the realm itself. Such a grand project had 
 need of support from our King, who, at the commence- 
 ment, ruled the Court of Spain as much as his own 
 Court, with entire influence over all matters. 
 
 The young Queen of Spain had been not less care- 
 
 AA2
 
 356 THE QUEEN OF SPAIN*. 
 
 fully educated than her sister, the Duchesse de 
 Bourgogne. She had even when so young much intel- 
 ligence and firmness, without being incapable of 
 restraint ; and as time went on, improved still further, 
 and displayed a constancy and courage which were 
 admirably set off by her meekness and natural graces. 
 According to everything I have heard said in France 
 and in Spain, she possessed all qualities that were 
 necessary to make her adored. Indeed she became a 
 divinity among the Spaniards, and to their affection 
 for her, Philip V. was more than once indebted for his 
 crown. Lords, ladies, soldiers, and the people still 
 remember her with tears in their eyes ; and even after 
 the lapse of so many years, are not yet consoled for 
 her loss. 
 
 Madame des Ursins soon managed to obtain the 
 entire confidence of this Queen; and during the 
 absence of Philip V. in Italy, assisted her in the 
 administration of all public offices. She even accom- 
 panied her to the Junta, it not being thought proper 
 that the Queen should be alone amid such an assem- 
 blage of men. In this way she became acquainted 
 with everything that was passing, and knew all the 
 affairs of the Government. 
 
 This step gained, it will be imagined that the Prin- 
 cesse des Ursins did not forget to pay her court most 
 assiduously to our King and to Madame de Maintenon. 
 She continually sent them an exact account of every- 
 thing relating to the Queen making her appear in the 
 most favourable light possible. Little by little she 
 introduced into her letters details respecting public
 
 AMBITION OF MADAME DE MAINTENON. 357 
 
 events, without, however, conveying a suspicion of her 
 own ambition, or that she wished to meddle in these 
 matters. Anchored in this way, she next began to 
 flatter Madame de Maintenon, and by degrees to hint 
 that she might rule over .Spain, even more firmly than 
 she ruled over France, if she would entrust her com- 
 mands to Madame des Ursins. Madame des Ursins 
 offered, in fact, to be the instrument of Madame de 
 Maintenon ; representing how much better it would be 
 to rule affairs in this manner, than through the instru- 
 mentality of the ministers of either country. 
 
 Madame de Maintenon whose passion it was to 
 know everything, to mix herself in everything, and to 
 govern everything, was enchanted by the siren. This 
 method of governing Spain without Ministers appeared 
 to her an admirable idea. She embraced it with avidity, 
 without reflecting that she would govern only in ap- 
 pearance, since she would know nothing except through 
 the Princesse des Ursins, see nothing except in the 
 light in which she presented it. From that time dates 
 the intimate union which existed between these two 
 important women, the unbounded authority of Madame 
 des Ursins, the fall of all those who had placed 
 Philip V. upon the throne, and of all our ministers in 
 Spain who stood in the way of the new power. 
 
 Such an alliance being made between the two women, 
 it was necessary to draw the King of Spain into the 
 same net. This was not a very arduous task. Nature 
 and art indeed had combined to make it easy. Younger 
 brother of an excitable, violent, and robust Prince, 
 Philip V. had been bred up in a submission and
 
 358 EDUCATION OF A PRINCE. 
 
 dependence that were necessary for the repose of the 
 Royal family. Until the testament of Charles II., the 
 Due d'Anjou was necessarily regarded as destined to 
 be a subject all his life ; and therefore could not be 
 too much abased by education, and trained to patience 
 and obedience. That supreme law, the reason of 
 state, demanded this preference, for the safety and 
 happiness of the kingdom, of the elder over the 
 younger brother. His mind for this reason was 
 purposely narrowed and beaten down, and his natural 
 docility and gentleness greatly assisted in the process. 
 He was quite formed to be led, although he had enough 
 judgment left to choose the better of two courses pro- 
 posed to him, and even to express himself in good 
 phrase, when the slowness, not to say the laziness of 
 his mind did not prevent him from speaking at all. 
 His great piety contributed to weaken his mind ; and, 
 being joined to very lively passions, made it disagree- 
 able and even dangerous for him to be separated from 
 his Queen. It may easily be conceived, therefore, how 
 he loved her, and that he allowed himself to be guided 
 by her in all things. As the Queen herself was guided 
 in all things by Madame des Ursins, the influence of 
 this latter was all powerful. 
 
 Soon, indeed, the Junta became a mere show. Every- 
 thing was brought before the King, in private, and he 
 gave no decision until the Queen and Madame des 
 Ursins had passed theirs. This conduct met with no 
 opposition from our Court, but our ministers at the 
 Court of Spain and the Spanish ministers there, soon 
 began to complain of it. The first to do so were
 
 A CARDINAL MADE COLONEL. 359 
 
 Cardinals d'Estrees and Portocarrero. Madame de 
 Maintenoii laughed at them, and Madame des Ursins, 
 of whom they were old friends, soon showed them that 
 she did not mean to abate one jot of her power. She 
 first endeavoured to bring about a coldness between 
 the two, and this succeeded so well, that in con- 
 sequence of the quarrels that resulted the Spanish 
 Cardinal, Portocarrero (who it will be remembered 
 had played an important part in bringing Philip to the 
 Spanish throne) wished to quit the Junta. But Madame 
 des Ursins, who thought that the time had not yet 
 arrived for this step, persuaded him to remain, and 
 endeavoured to flatter his vanity by an expedient alto- 
 gether ridiculous. She gave him the command of a 
 regiment of guards, and he, priest, archbishop, primate, 
 and cardinal, accepted it, and was, of course, well 
 laughed at by everybody for his pains. The two car- 
 dinals soon after became reconciled to each other* 
 feeling, perhaps, the necessity of uniting against the 
 common enemy. But they could come to no better 
 understanding with her. Disagreements continued, so 
 that at last, feeling her position perfectly secure, the 
 Princesse des Ursins begged permission to retire into 
 Italy, knowing full well that she would not be taken at 
 her word, and hoping by this means to deliver herself 
 of these stumbling-blocks in her path. 
 
 Our ministers, who felt they would lose all control 
 over Spanish affairs, if Madame des Ursins was allowed 
 to remain mistress, did all in their power to support 
 the d'Estrees. But Madame de Maintenon pleaded so 
 well with the King, representing the good policy of
 
 360 FAVOURITE OF MADAME DBS URSINS. 
 
 allowing a woman so much attached to him, and to the 
 Spanish Queen, as was Madame des Ursins, to remain 
 where she was, that he entirely swallowed the bait ; 
 the d'Estrees were left without support; the French 
 ambassador at Madrid was virtually deprived of all 
 power; the Spanish ministers were fettered in their 
 every movement, and the authority of Madame des 
 Ursins became stronger than ever. All public affairs 
 passed through her hands. The King decided nothing 
 without conferring with the Queen and her. 
 
 While excluding almost all the ministers from public 
 offices, Madame des Ursins admitted a few favourites 
 into her confidence. Amongst them was d'Harcourt, 
 who stood well with Madame de Maintenon, and who 
 cared little for the means by which he obtained consi- 
 deration ; Orry, who had the management of the 
 finances ; and d'Aubigny, son of a Procureur in Paris. 
 The last was a tall, handsome fellow, well made, and 
 active in mind and body ; who for many years had 
 been with the Princesse, as a sort of squire, and on 
 very intimate terms with her. One day, when, followed 
 by some of the ministers, she entered a room in which 
 he was writing, he burst out into exclamations against 
 her, without being aware that she was not alone, swore 
 at her, asked her why she could not leave him an hour 
 in peace, called her by the strangest names, and all 
 this with so much impetuosity that she had no time 
 to show him who were behind her. When he found 
 it out, he ran from the room, leaving Madame des 
 Ursins so confused that the ministers looked for two or 
 three minutes upon the walls of the room in order to
 
 TRIUMPH OF THE PRIXCESSE. 361 
 
 give her time to recover herself. Soon after this, 
 d'Aubigny had a splendid suite of apartments, that 
 had formerly been occupied by Maria Theresa (after- 
 wards wife of Louis XIV.), placed at his disposal, 
 with some rooms added, in despite of the murmurs 
 that arose at a distinction so strange, accorded to this 
 favourite. 
 
 At length, Cardinal d'Estrees, continually in arms 
 against Madame des Ursins, and continually defeated, 
 could not bear his position any longer, but asked to be 
 immediately recalled. All that the ministry could do 
 was to obtain permission for the Abbe d'Estrees (nephew 
 of the Cardinal) to remain as ambassador of France at 
 Madrid. As for Portocarrero, seeing the step his asso- 
 ciate had taken, he resolved to quit public business 
 also, and resigned his place accordingly. Several 
 others who stood in the way of the Princesse des 
 Ursins were got rid of at the same time, so that she 
 was now left mistress of the field. She governed 
 absolutely in all things ; the ministers became instru- 
 ments in her hands ; the King and Queen agents to 
 work out her will. She was at the highest pinnacle of 
 power. Together with Orry she enjoyed a power such 
 as no one had ever attained since the time of the Duke 
 of Lerma and of Olivares. 
 
 In the meantime the Archduke was declared King of 
 Spain by the Emperor, who made no mystery of his 
 intention of attacking Spain by way of Portugal. The 
 Archduke soon afterwards was recognised by Holland, 
 England, Portugal, Brandenburg, Savoy, and Hanover, 
 as King of Spain, under the title of Charles III., and
 
 362 MISTAKE OF MADAME DES URSIXS. 
 
 soon after by the other powers of Europe. The Duke 
 of Savoy had been treacherous to us, had shown that 
 he was in league with the Emperor. The King accord- 
 ingly had broken off all relations with him, and sent 
 an army to invade his territory. It need be no cause 
 of surprise, therefore, that the Archduke was recog- 
 nised by Savoy. While our armies were fighting with 
 varied fortune those of the Emperor and his allies, in 
 different parts of Europe, notably upon the Rhine, 
 Madame des Ursins was pressing matters to extremities 
 in Spain. Dazzled by her success in expelling the two 
 cardinals from public affairs, and all the ministers who 
 had assisted in placing Philip V. upon the throne, she 
 committed a blunder of which she soon had cause to 
 repent. 
 
 I have said, that when Cardinal d'Estrees quitted 
 Spain, the Abbe d'Estrees was left behind, so that 
 France should not be altogether unrepresented in an 
 official manner at the court of Madrid. Madame des 
 Ursins did not like this arrangement, but as Madame 
 de Maintenon insisted upon it, she was obliged to 
 accept it with as good grace as possible. The Abbe, 
 vain of his family and of his position, was not a man 
 much to be feared as it seemed. Madame des Ursins 
 accordingly laughed at and despised him. He was 
 admitted to the council, but was quite without influence 
 there, and when he attempted to make any representa- 
 tions to Madame des Ursins or to Orry, they listened 
 to him without attending in the least to what he said. 
 The Princess reigned supreme, and thought of nothing 
 but getting rid of all who attempted to divide her
 
 VIOLATING A CORRESPONDENCE. 363 
 
 authority. At last she obtained such a command over 
 the poor Abbe d'Estre'es, so teased and hampered him, 
 that he consented to the hitherto unheard-of arrange- 
 ment, that the Ambassador of France should not 
 write to the King without first concerting his letter 
 with her, and then show her its contents before he 
 despatched it. But such restraint as this became, in 
 a short time, so fettering, that the Abbe' determined 
 to break away from it. He wrote a letter to the 
 King, without showing it to Madame des Ursins. 
 She soon had scent of what he had done ; seized the 
 letter as it passed through the post, opened it, and, as 
 she expected, found its contents were not of a kind 
 to give her much satisfaction. But what piqued her 
 most was, to find details exaggerating the authority 
 of d'Aubigny, and a statement to the effect, that it 
 was generally believed she had married him. Beside 
 herself with rage and vexation, she wrote with her own 
 hand upon the margin of the letter, Pour mariee non 
 (" At any rate, not married "), showed it in this state 
 to the King and Queen of Spain, to a number of 
 other people, always with strange clamouring, and 
 finally crowned her folly by sending it to the King 
 (Louis XIV.), with furious complaints against the Abbe 
 for writing it without her knowledge, and for inflicting 
 upon her such an atrocious injury as to mention this 
 pretended marriage. Her letter and its enclosure 
 reached the King at a very inopportune moment. Just 
 before, he had received a letter, which, taken in con- 
 nection with this of the Princesse des Ursins, struck a 
 blow at her power of the most decisive kind.
 
 304 APPOINTMENT OF THE DUKE OF BERWICK. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Appointment of the Duke of Berwick Deception practised by Orry 
 Anger of Louis XIV. Dismissal of Madame des Ursins Her in- 
 trigues to return Annoyance of the King and Queen of Spain 
 Intrigues at Versailles Triumphant return of Madame des Ursins to 
 Court Baseness of the Courtiers Her return to Spain resolved on. 
 
 SOME little time previously it had been thought 
 necessary to send an army to the frontiers of Portugal 
 to oppose the Archduke. A French general was 
 wanted to command this army. Madame des Ursins, 
 who had been very intimate with the King of England 
 (James II.) and his Queen, thought she would please 
 them if she gave this post to the Duke of Berwick, 
 illegitimate son of King James. She proposed this 
 therefore ; and our King, out of regard for his brother 
 Monarch, and from a natural affection for bastards, con- 
 sented to the appointment ; but as the Duke of Berwick 
 had never before commanded an army, he stipulated 
 that Puysegur, known to be a skilful officer, should go 
 with him, and assist him with his councils and advice. 
 
 Puysegur set out before the Duke of Berwick. 
 From the Pyrenees as far as Madrid, he found every 
 provision made for the subsistence of the French 
 troops, and sent a very advantageous account to the 
 King of this circumstance. Arrived at Madrid, he 
 had interviews with Orry (who, as I have already
 
 DECEPTION OF ORRY. 365 
 
 mentioned, had the finances under his control, and 
 who was a mere instrument in the hands of Madame 
 des Ursins), and was assured hy the minister that all 
 the magazines along the line of route to the frontiers 
 of Portugal were abundantly filled with supplies for 
 the French troops, that all the money necessary was 
 ready, and that nothing, in fact, should fail in the 
 course of the campaign. Puyse'gur, who had found 
 nothing wanting up to that time, never doubted but 
 that these statements were perfectly correct ; and had 
 no suspicion that a minister would have the effrontery 
 to show him in detail all these precautions if he had 
 taken none. Pleased, then, to the utmost degree, he 
 wrote to the King in praise of Orry, and consequently 
 of Madame des Ursins and her wise government. Full 
 of these ideas, he set out for the frontier of Portugal 
 to reconnoitre the ground himself, and arrange every- 
 thing for the arrival of the army and its general. 
 What was his surprise, when he found that from 
 Madrid to the frontier not a single preparation had 
 been made for the troops, and that in consequence all 
 that Orry had shown him, drawn out upon paper, was 
 utterly fictitious. His vexation, upon finding that 
 nothing upon which he had reckoned was provided, 
 may be imagined. He at once wrote to the King, in 
 order to contradict all that he had recently written. 
 
 This conduct of Orry his impudence, I may say 
 in deceiving a man, who immediately after would have 
 under his eyes the proof of his deceit, is a thing past 
 all comprehension. It is easy to understand that 
 rogues should steal, but not that they should have the
 
 366 LOUIS XIV. OFFENDED. 
 
 audacity to do so in the face of facts which so quickly 
 and so easily could prove their villainy. 
 
 It was Puysegur's letter then, detailing this ras- 
 cality on the part of Orry, that had reached the King 
 just before that respecting the Abbe d'Estrees. The 
 two disclosed a state of things that could not be 
 allowed any longer to exist. Our ministers, who step 
 by step had been deprived of all control over the 
 affairs of Spain, profited by the discontentment of the 
 King to reclaim their functions. Harcourt and Madame 
 de Maintenon did all they could to ward off the blow 
 from Madame des Ursins, but without effect. The 
 King determined to banish her to Rome and to dismiss 
 Orry from his post. 
 
 It was felt, however, that these steps must be taken 
 cautiously, to avoid offending too deeply the King 
 and Queen of Spain, who supported their favourite 
 through every emergency. 
 
 In the first place then, a simple reprimand was sent 
 to the Princesse des Ursins for the violation of the 
 respect due to the King, by opening a letter addressed 
 to him by one of his ambassadors. The Abbe d'Estrees, 
 who expected that Madame des Ursins would be at 
 once disgraced, and who had made a great outcry when 
 his letter was opened, fell into such despair when he 
 saw how lightly she was let off, that he asked for his 
 dismissal. He was taken at his word ; and this was a 
 new triumph for Madame des Ursins, who thought 
 herself more secure than ever. Her triumph was of 
 but short duration. The King wrote to Philip, re- 
 commending him to head in person the army for the
 
 DISMISSAL OF MADAME DBS URSINS. 367 
 
 frontiers of Portugal, which, in spite of Orry's decep- 
 tion, it was still determined to send. No sooner was 
 Philip fairly away, separated from the Queen and 
 Madame des Ursins, and no longer under their influence, 
 than the King wrote to the Queen of Spain, requesting 
 her, in terms that could not be disputed, to dismiss at 
 once and for ever her favourite Camerara Mayor. The 
 Queen in despair at the idea of losing a friend and 
 adviser to whom she had been so much attached, 
 believed herself lost. At the same time that the King 
 wrote to. the Queen of Spain, he also wrote to the 
 Princesse des Ursins, ordering her to quit Madrid 
 immediately, to leave Spain, and to retire into Italy. 
 
 At this conjuncture of affairs, when the Queen was 
 in despair, Madame des Ursins did not lose her com- 
 posure. She opened her eyes to all that had passed 
 since she had violated Estrees' letter, and saw the 
 vanity of the triumph she had recently enjoyed. She 
 felt at once that for the present all was lost, that her 
 only hope was to be allowed to remain in France. She 
 made all her arrangements therefore, so that affairs 
 might proceed in her absence as much as possible as 
 though she were present, and then prepared to set out. 
 Dawdling day by day, she put off her departure as long 
 as could be, and when at length she left Madrid only went 
 to Alcala, a few leagues distant. She stopped there under 
 various pretexts, and at length, after five weeks of delay, 
 set out for Bayonne, journeying as slowly as she could 
 and stopping as often as she dared. 
 
 She lost no opportunity of demanding an audience 
 at Versailles, in order to clear herself of the charge
 
 308 MADAME DES URSIXS IX TOULON*. 
 
 which weighed upon her, and her importunities at 
 length were not without effect. The most terrible 
 storms at Court soon blow over. The King (Louis XIV.) 
 was satisfied with the success of his plans. He had 
 been revenged in every way, and had humbled the 
 pride of the Princesse des Ursins. It was not neces- 
 sary to excite the anger of the Queen and King of 
 Spain by too great harshness against their fallen 
 friend. Madame de Maintenon took advantage of this 
 change in the temper of the King, and by dint of 
 persuasion and scheming succeeded in obtaining from 
 him the permission for Madame des Ursins to remain 
 in France. Toulouse was fixed upon for her residence. 
 It was a place that just suited her, and from which 
 communication with Spain was easy. Here accordingly 
 she took up her residence, determined to watch well 
 the course of events, and to avail herself of every 
 opportunity that could bring about her complete 
 reconciliation with the King (Louis XIV.), and obtain 
 for her in consequence the permission to return to 
 Madrid. 
 
 In the mean time, the King and Queen of Spain, 
 distressed beyond measure at the loss of their favourite, 
 thought only of the best means of obtaining her recal. 
 They plotted with such ministers as were favourable to 
 her ; they openly quarrelled with and thwarted those 
 who were her opponents, so that the most important 
 matters perished in their hands. Nay more, upon the 
 King of Spain's return, the Queen persuaded him to 
 oppose in all things the wishes of the King (Louis XIV.), 
 his grandfather, and to neglect his counsels with studied
 
 IGNORANCE IN WHICH THE KING WAS KEPT. 369 
 
 care. Our King complained of this with bitterness. 
 The aim of it was to. tire him out, and to make him 
 understand that it was only Madame des Ursins, well 
 treated and sent back, who could restore Spanish affairs 
 to their original state, and cause his authority to be 
 respected. Madame de Maintenon, on her side, neg- 
 lected 110 opportunity of pressing the King to allow 
 Madame des Ursins, not to return into Spain that 
 would have been to spoil all by asking too much but 
 simply to come to Versailles in order to have the 
 opportunity of justifying herself for her past conduct. 
 From other quarters the King was similarly impor- 
 tuned. Tired at last of the obstinate opposition he 
 met with in Spain from the Queen, who governed 
 completely her husband, he gave permission to Madame 
 des Ursins to come to Versailles to plead her own 
 cause. Self-imprisoned as he was in seclusion, the 
 truth never approached him, and he was the only man 
 in the two kingdoms who had no suspicion that the 
 arrival of Madame des Ursins at the Court was the 
 certain sign of her speedy return to Spain more 
 powerful than ever. But he was fatigued with the 
 constant resistance he met with ; with the disorder 
 which this occasioned in public affairs at a time too 
 when, as I will afterwards explain, the closest union 
 was necessary between the two crowns in order to 
 repel the common enemy, and these motives induced 
 him, to the astonishment of his ministers, to grant the 
 favour requested of him. 
 
 However well informed Madame des Ursins might be 
 of all that was being done on her account, this permis- 
 
 VOL. I. B B
 
 370 RETURN OF MADAME DES URSINS. 
 
 sion surpassed her hopes. Her joy accordingly was 
 very great; but it did not at all carry her away. 
 She saw that her return to Spain would now depend 
 upon herself. She determined to put on the air of one 
 who is disgraced, but who hopes, and yet is humiliated. 
 She instructed all her friends to assume the same man- 
 ner ; took all measures with infinite presence of mind ; 
 did not hurry her departure, and yet set out with 
 sufficient promptness to prevent any coldness springing 
 up, and to show with what eagerness she profited by 
 the favour accorded to her, and which she had so much 
 wished. 
 
 No sooner was the courier gone who carried this 
 news to her, than the rumour of her return was 
 whispered all over the Court, and became publicly 
 confirmed a few days afterwards. The movement that 
 it produced at Court was inconceivable. Only the 
 friends of Madame des Ursins were able to remain in 
 a tolerably tranquil state. Everybody opened his eyes 
 and comprehended that the return of such an im- 
 portant personage was a fact that could not be insig- 
 nificant. People prepared themselves for a sort of 
 rising sun that was going to change and renew many 
 things in nature. On every side were seen people who 
 had scarcely ever uttered her name, and who now 
 boasted of their intimacy with her and of her friend- 
 ship for them. Other people were seen, who, although 
 openly allied with her enemies, had the baseness to 
 affect transports of joy at her forthcoming return, and 
 to flatter those whom they thought likely to favour 
 them with her.
 
 BASENESS OF THE COURTIERS. 371 
 
 She reached Paris on Sunday the 4th of January, 
 1705. The Due d'Albe met her several miles out of 
 the city, escorted her to his house, and gave a fete in 
 her honour there. Several persons of distinction went 
 out to meet her. Madame des Ursins had reason to be 
 surprised at an entry so triumphant : she would not, 
 however, stay with the Due and Duchess d'Albe, but 
 took up her quarters with the Comtesse d'Egmont, 
 niece of the Archbishop of Aix ; the said Archbishop 
 having been instrumental in obtaining her recal. The 
 King was at Marly. I was there with Madame de St. 
 Simon. During the remainder of the stay at Marly 
 everybody nocked to the house of Madame des Ursins, 
 anxious to pay her their court. However nattered she 
 may have been by this concourse, she had matters to 
 occupy her, pleaded want of repose, and shut her door 
 to three people out of four who called upon her. 
 Curiosity, perhaps fashion, drew this great crowd to her. 
 The ministers were startled by it. Torcy had orders 
 from the King to go and see her : he did so ; and from 
 that moment Madame des Ursins changed her tone. 
 Until then her manner had been modest, supplicating, 
 nearly timid. She now saw and heard so much 
 that from defendant, which she had intended to be, she 
 thought herself in a condition to become accuser ; and 
 to demand justice of those, who, abusing the confidence 
 of the King, had drawn upon her such a long and cruel 
 punishment, and made her a show for the two king- 
 doms. All that happened to her surpassed her hopes. 
 Several times when with me she has expressed her 
 astonishment ; and with me has laughed at many
 
 37'2 THE KING AND MADAME DES URSINS. 
 
 people, often of much consideration, whom she scarcely 
 knew, or who had heen strongly opposed to her, and 
 who basely crouched at her feet. 
 
 The King returned to Versailles, on Saturday, the 
 10th of January. Madame des Ursins arrived there 
 the same day. I went immediately to see her, not 
 having heen able to do so before, because I could not 
 quit Marly. My mother had seen a great deal of 
 Madame des Ursins at Paris. I had always been on 
 good terms with her, and had received on all occasions 
 proofs of her friendship. She received me very well, 
 spoke with much freedom, and said she promised 
 herself the pleasure of seeing me again and of talking 
 with me more at her ease. On the morrow, Sunday, 
 she dined at home alone, dressed herself in grand 
 jstyle, and went to the King, with whom she remained 
 alone two hours and a half conversing in his cabinet. 
 From there she went to the Duchesse de Bourgogne, 
 with whom she also conversed a long time alone. In 
 the evening, the King said, while in Madame de 
 Maintenon's apartments, that there were still many 
 things upon which he had not yet spoken to Madame 
 des Ursins. The next day she saw Madame de Main- 
 tenon in private for a long time, and much at her ease. 
 She had an interview soon after with the King and 
 Madame de Maintenon, which was also very long. 
 
 A month after this a special courier arrived from 
 the King and Queen of Spain, to thank the King 
 (Louis XIV.) for his conduct towards the Princesse des 
 Ursins. From that moment it was announced that 
 she would remain at Court until the month of April,
 
 EXTRAORDINARY FAVOUR. 373 
 
 in order to attend to her affairs and her health. It 
 was already to have made a grand step to be mistress 
 enough to announce thus her stay. Nobody in truth 
 doubted of her return to Spain, but the word was not 
 yet said. She avoided all explanations, and it may be 
 believed did not have many indiscreet questions put to 
 her upon the subject. 
 
 So many and such long audiences with the King, 
 followed by so much serenity, had a great effect upon 
 the world, and the crowd that flocked to see Madame 
 des Ursins was greater than ever ; but under various 
 pretences she shut herself up and would see only a 
 few intimate friends, foremost among which were 
 Madame de Saint Simon and myself. Whilst triumph- 
 ant beyond all her hopes in Paris, she was at work 
 in Spain, and with equal success. Rivas, who had 
 drawn up the will of the late King Charles II., was 
 disgraced, and never afterwards rose to favour. The 
 Due de Grammont, our ambassador at Madrid, was so 
 overwhelmed with annoyance, that he asked for his 
 recal. Amelot, whom Madame des Ursins favoured, 
 was appointed in his place, and many who had been 
 disgraced were reinstated in office ; everything was 
 ordered according to her wishes. 
 
 We returned to Marly, where many balls took place. 
 It need not be doubted that Madame des Ursins was 
 among the invited. Apartments were given her, and 
 nothing could equal the triumphant air with which she 
 took possession of them, the continual attentions of 
 the King to her, as though she were some little foreign 
 queen just arrived at his Court, or the majestic fashion
 
 374 TRUCKLING OF THE COURTIERS. 
 
 in which she received them, mingled with grace and 
 respectful politeness, then almost out of date, and 
 which recalled the stately old dames of the Queen- 
 mother. She never came without the King, who 
 appeared to be completely occupied with her, talking 
 with her, pointing out objects for her inspection, 
 seeking her opinion and her approbation with an air 
 of gallantry, even of flattery, which never ceased. 
 The frequent private conversations that she had with 
 him in the apartment of Madame de Maintenon, and 
 which lasted an hour, and sometimes double that time ; 
 those that she very often had in the morning alone 
 with Madame de Maintenon, rendered her the divinity 
 of the Court. The Princesses encircled her the moment 
 she appeared anywhere, and went to see her in her 
 chamber. Nothing was more surprising than the 
 servile eagerness with which the greatest people, the 
 highest in power and the most in favour, clustered 
 around her. Her very glances were counted, and her 
 words, addressed even to ladies of the highest rank, 
 imprinted upon them a look of ravishment. 
 
 I went nearly every morning to her house : she 
 always rose very early, dressed herself at once, so that 
 she was never seen at her toilette. I was in advance 
 of the hour fixed for the most important visitors, and 
 we talked with the same liberty as of yore. I learnt 
 from her many details, and the opinion of the King 
 and of Madame de Maintenon upon many people. We 
 often used to laugh in concert at the truckling to her of 
 persons the most considerable, and of the disdain they 
 drew upon themselves, although she did not testify
 
 MADAME DE SAINT SIMON. 375 
 
 it to them. AVe laughed too at the falsehood of others, 
 who after having done her all the injury in their power 
 ever since her arrival, lavished upon her all kinds of 
 flatteries, and boasted of their affection for her and of 
 zeal in her cause. I was flattered with this con- 
 fidence of the dictatress of the Court. It drew upon 
 me a sudden consideration ; for people of the greatest 
 distinction often found me alone with her in the 
 morning, and the messengers who rained down at 
 that time reported that they had found me with her, 
 and that they had not been able to speak to her. 
 Oftentimes in the salon she called me to her, or at 
 other times I went to her and whispered a word in her 
 ear, with an air of ease and liberty much envied but 
 little imitated. She never met Madame de Saint 
 Simon without going to her, praising her, making her 
 join in the conversation that was passing around ; 
 oftentimes leading her to the glass and adjusting her 
 head-dress or her robe as she might have done in 
 private to a daughter. People asked with surprise 
 and much annoyance whence came such a great friend- 
 ship which had never been suspected by anybody ? 
 What completed the torment of the majority, was to 
 see Madame des Ursins, as soon as she quitted the 
 chamber of Madame de Maintenon, go immediately to 
 Madame de Saint Simon, lead her aside, and speak to 
 her in a low tone. This opened the eyes of everybody, 
 and drew upon us many civilities. 
 
 A more solid gratification to us were the kind things 
 Madame des Ursins said in our behalf to the King and 
 Madame de Maintenon. She spoke in the highest
 
 376 BALLS AT MARLY. 
 
 praise of Madame de St. Simon, and declared that 
 there was no woman at Court so fitting as she, so ex- 
 pressly made by her virtue, good conduct, and ability, 
 to be lady of the Palace, or even lady-of-honour to 
 Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne, should the post 
 become vacant. Madame des Ursins did not forget rne ; 
 but a woman was more susceptible of her praise. It 
 made, therefore, all the more impression. This kind 
 manner towards us did not change during all her stay 
 at Court. 
 
 At all the balls which Madame des Ursins attended, 
 she was treated with much distinction, and at one 
 she obtained permission for the Due and Duchesse 
 d'Albe to be present, but with some little trouble. I 
 say with some little trouble, because no ambassador, 
 no foreigner, had ever, with one exception, been 
 admitted to Marly. It was a great favour, therefore, 
 for Madame des Ursins to obtain. The King, too, 
 treated the Due and Duchesse d'Albe, throughout the 
 evening with marked respect, and placed the latter in 
 the most distinguished position, not only in the ball- 
 room but at supper. When he went to bed, too, he 
 gave the Due d'Albe his candlestick ; an honour the 
 importance of which I have already described. 
 
 At the other balls Madame des Ursins seated herself 
 near the Grand Chamberlain, and looked at everybody 
 with her lorgnette. At every moment the King turned 
 round to speak to her and Madame de Maintenon, who 
 came for half an hour or so to these balls, and on her 
 account displaced the Grand Chamberlain, who put 
 himself behind her. In this manner she joined
 
 THE SPANIEL OF MADAME DES URSINS. 377 
 
 Madame des Ursins, and was close to the King the 
 conversation between the three being continual. What 
 appeared extremely singular was to see Madame des 
 Ursins in the salon with a little spaniel in her arms, as 
 though she had been in her own house. People could 
 not sufficiently express their astonishment at a 
 familiarity which even Madame la Duchesse de Bour- 
 gogne would not have dared to venture ; still less 
 could they do so when they saw the King caress this 
 little dog over and over again. In fine, such a high 
 flight has never been seen. People could not accustom 
 themselves to it, and those who knew the King and his 
 Court are surprised still, when they think of it, after 
 so many years. There was no longer any doubt that 
 Madame des Ursins would return into Spain. All her 
 frequent private conversations with the King and 
 Madame de Maintenon were upon that country. I 
 will only add here that her return took place in due 
 time ; and that her influence became more paramount 
 than ever. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
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