MEMOIRS OF THE Due DE SAINT-SIMON. Volume II. Clje Qtouv tre iFcaiue IStiition Limited to Twelve Hundred and Fifty Numbered Sets, of which this is A^.. <^....h...^ V ■ ^ ^. -^i ^ 1 1.*'^ Ma V ^ J^^KSBm A '^l v - . -^ "^ ^ ^ \ 9J/JPi S l B > ■ k^ Iv '' i'"^ -^V3>., ins Jk^ l*5^y« **■•' ^ '^ ■'■ c .^Z^ot-ct. r^ ^/F MEMOI RS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON ON THE TIMES OF LOUIS XIV. AND THE REGENCY. translate!) anH IbriDgeU KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY, FROM THE EDITION COLLATED WITH THE ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPT BY M. CHERUEL. ILLUSTRATED WITH PORTRAITS FROM THE ORIGINAL. IN FOUR VOLUMES. Vol.. II. H O S T O N : HARDY, I'KATT & COMPANY. 1902 Copyright, 1899, By Hardy, Pratt & Company. Ail rights reserved. ?Snii3ersitg ?PrH»: John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U. S. A. ;3 o 1901 CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. Page The terms on which I stood with the Due d'Orleans. — Strange curiosities about the future. — The Due d'Orleans dissatisfied with tlie siege of Turin. — Council of war at which he ceases to give orders. — Singular rapidity with which I hear of the disasters before Turin. — Ketrenchnients. — Birth of the second Due de Bretagne. — Death of tiie Bishop of Autun. — Fontpertuis. — Condition of tiie finances. — King's equerry captured by a detachment of the enemy. — Parvulo de Meudon. — M and Mnie. du Maine ; their characters and conduct. — Tiie Comte de Toulouse 1 CHAPTER ri. Death of Mme. de Montespan. — Death of the Dnchesse de Nemours. — Fatal tempest and inundations. — The Scotcli project. — Suite of the king of England ; tiicir characters. — The fleet delayed and cliased ; failure of project. — First occasion on which the Pretender was 80 named, — Meeting of the kings at Marly. — Strange speech of the king. — The Due de Bourgogne destined to tiio army in Flanders. — Curious conversation with the Due de Beauvilliers. — The king picks Samuel Bernard's pocket pleasantly 31 CHAPTER III. ].)cath, forlnno, and clinrartnr of Mansart. — Disaptcrs in Klandors; df)f(!ii,t at y\ndn(i nt Moudon. — Death of MonsoigntMir. — 'I'ho Scoiio at VorMaillos. — Surprising tciu-H i)f tint Due d'Orl •anM, — Sioiin at VorHuilh'H con tinuod. — IIorri)r ul Moudon. — <,'onfn»ion ul Murly 241 irui CONTENTS. CHAPTER X. Page Character of Monseigneur. — Problem if he was married to Mile. Choin. — Monseigneur 's private court. — Sketch aud projects of the Duches.se de Berry. — Portrait in brief of Monseigneur. — His obsequies. — The king's sort of grief. — Mile. Choin; wisdom of her conduct after Mouseigueur's death. — The Ducliesse de Berry acknowledges her strange projects. — Submission and moderation of the dauphin. — Mantles and cloaks at Marly. — Death aud character of the Duchesse de Villeroy. — Great change at Court on tlie death of Monseigneur. — Mile, de I.islebonne. — Mme. la Ducliesse. — The Due de Beauvilliers and Pe'nelon, Archbishop of Cambrai 268 CHAPTER XI. The Due de Charost and his mother. — Conduct of the Dues de Ciievreuse aud Beauvilliers. — Concourse at Cambrai. — M. le Dau- phin. — The ministers ordered to work with the dauphin. — The dauphin presented to the clergy by tiie king. — Funeral services of Monseigneur at St. Denis and Notre-Dame. — Discussions between the Due de Beauvilliers and me. — Close union between the three couples, Chevreuse, Beauvilliers, and Saint-Simon. — My sentiments on Jansenism, Jansenists, and Jesuits 297 INDEX 325 LIST OF PHOTOGRAVURE ILLUSTRATIONS. Paok Louis XIV Frontispiece By Ri^aud; in the Louvre. Tliis portrait was painted for Philippe V. of Spain, but was thought so good a lii^eness that the king ordered a copy made for tlie King of Spain, and placed the original in the throne-room at Versailles. FRANCOISE-ATHfiNAlS DE ROCHECHOUART, MaEQUISE DE MoNTESPAN 31 By Van Loo (Jacques) ; in possession of M. Hermann-Joseph Reinach, Paris. Salon at Fontainebleau 67 Alme. de Maintenon's salon, where the king spent bis evenings. The Prince de Conti (Fraxcois-Louis) 100 Painter unknown; from an old engraving by Crespy. Francoisb d'Acbigny, Marquise de Maintenon 137 By Migiiard; in the Louvre. This portrait was painted for the Community of Saint-Cyr. Francoise-Loijise de i,a Baume-Le Blanc, Duciikssk dk la VALLlfCRK ]f^\ By Mignard; in poHsession of M. Ic Berquier, PariR. MAHiR-ANNr, DE BounnoN, Princk8«k dk Covti, Dauohtfr or Loiim XIV. AND LotllHK DB LA VALLlftltK; WlFR OK T.OIH ArMAND, PlMNfT! DK C()\T\ 21 (J By S/iDlnnn ^Fonii nii|)ti-(<»); iil VriMuillni. X LIST OF PHOTOGRAVURE ILLUSTRATIONS. Page Boileau-Despeeaox (N1COLA.S) 231 By Santerre ; in possession of M. Ner^e-Michel N^and, Lyons. Louis de Fhaxcb, " Monseigneub," Son of Louis XIV 268 By Mignard ; in the Louvre. This portrait is part of a family group, including the Dauphine Marie-Anne of Bavaria and their three children, the Dues de Bourgogne, d'Anjou, and de Berry. T,ocisE DE Bourbon, " Madame la Duchesse," Daughter of the King and Mme. de Montespan; Wife of Louis III., Prince DE CONDE 291 By Largilli^re; in possession of M. L. F. A. L. CoUeson, Nancy. MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. I. Though the time has not yet come to speak of the career of the Due d'Orldans, I can no longer postpone relating the g terms on which I stood with him since the re- The terms on ncwal of our intercoursc, the manner of which with'thVouc ^ ^^^^ already told in its proper place. His d'Orieans. friendship and the confidence he placed in me were complete ; I responded always with the most sincere attachment. I saw him nearly every afternoon at Versailles, alone in his entresol. He reproached me when chance made my visits less frequent, and he allowed me to speak to him with perfect freedom. No subject escaped us ; he expressed himself openly on all ; and he approved of my hiding nothing from him about himself. I never saw him except at Ver- sailles or at Marly ; that is to say at Court ; and never in Paris. Besides the fact that I scddom went there, and then only to sleep one night, rarely two, to attend to my duties or my business, the life he led in Paris did not suit me. From the first I put myself on the footing of liaving no intercourse with any one at the Palais- h'oyal, nor with any of the com- panions (»(' hJH |)l(!asures or his mistresses. Neither would T have any with Mun\. lu Duche.sHc d'OrU'ans, whom I never TOL. II. — 1 2 MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. [chap. i. saw except on occasions of ceremony or of indispensable duty, which were rare and only momentary, and I took no part whatsoever in their houses. I believed that any other conduct on my part would become a vexation to me, and lead me into trouble ; for which reason I would never listen to a word about it. On the evening when he was appointed general for Italy, I followed him from the salon to his own room, where we talked long together. He told me that orders had been despatched to Villars, then in Flanders with the reinforce- ments he had taken to Mardchal de A^illeroy (who did not wait for them before fighting his battle), to proceed at once personally to take command of the army on the Ehine, and also to Mar^chal de Marsin to leave that army and go, through Switzerland, to the army of Italy, which he was to command under himself, which army M. de Vendome was not to leave until they had both arrived and had conferred with him. He said he was only appointed general on the condition, for that command, of doing nothing without Mar^chal de Marsin's advice, no matter what happened, — a promise for which the king exacted his word in appointing him. But he felt the re- striction less than he felt his joy in attainmg, at last, to what he had desired all his life, at a moment when he had long ceased to hope for it, or even to think of it. M. le Prince de Conti had controlled himself, and behaved very well through- out the evening. Mme. la Duchesse, who was playing cards, did not trouble herself to leave the table to congratulate the Due d'Orl^ans ; she merely called out to him as he went by and offered her compUments with a vexed air. He passed without replying. The following days he wanted me to dis- cuss a great many things with him, and received with friend- ship and pleasure all the considerations that I offered to him, explaining at great length his instructions and his orders. 170(5] MEMOIRS OF THE DUC DE SAINT-SIMON. 3 and couimanding me to write to him often and freely about himself. He had been for a long while in love with Mile, de Sdry, a young girl of family, without any property, pretty, piquante, with a lively, saucy, capricious, and mocking air, which kept its promises only too well. Mme. de Ventadour, whose rela- tion she was, put her as maid of honour with Madame ; there she had a son by M. d'Orldans. This scandal obliged her to leave Madame's service, and the Due d'Orl^ans became more and more attached to her. She was imperious, and she made him feel it, but that only made him the more in love, and more submissive than ever. She ruled in most things at the Palais-Eoyal and held a little Court there ; Mme. de Ventadour, with all her profession of repentance, never ceased to be closely allied with her, and did not hide it. She was well advised. She seized this brilliant moment in the Due d'Orldans' life to get her son by him acknowledged and legitimatized. But she did not content herself with that. She thought it indecent to be publicly a mother and yet be called Mademoiselle. There was no precedent, however, by which she could be made Madame ; that is an honour re- served to the unmarried daughters of France, and to duch- esses in their own right. But such obstacles did not stop either the mistress or the lover. He gave her the estate of Argenton, and forced the kindness of the king, tliough with great trouble, to grant htu- letters of patent in the name of Madame and (Jomtesse d'Argenton. Tlie thing was unheard- of. Difliculties of registration were feared. The Due d'Orldans, on the [)oint of (k^parture and overwhelmed with business, went hiniscilf to tiu! lirst pnisidcnt and tht^ pro- cureur-g/i'idral., and the registiaticjii was mack*. His a|)point mont for Italy had becsn receivtid witli the utino.st njiplausc both in Taris mid at (Jourt. This ovouL reduced tlie joy and 4 MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SEMON. [chap. i. made much talk ; but a man in love thinks of nothing but of how to satisfy his mistress and sacrifice his own interests to hers. All was planned, managed, and consummated in this affair without a word passing between him and me. I was grieved at the thing itself, and also that he should tarnish his bril- liant departure by so notorious and improper a singularity. But that was all ; I was faithful to my own determination from the moment that I renewed my intercourse with him, never to speak to him of his household, his domestic hfe, or his mistresses. He knew well that I should not approve of what he was doing for this one, and he was careful never to open his lips to me about it at any time. But here is a thing he told me in a corner of the salon at Marly, where we were talking alone to each other one „. . . . evening when he had come out from Paris Singular cunosi- ^ ties about the just bef orc lie Started for Italy. The singu- larity of this thing, verified by after events which he could not possibly foresee, induces me not to omit it here. He was very eager about all sorts of arts and sciences, and in spite of his intelligence had the weakness so common to the descendants of Henri II., which Catherine de' Medici brought, among other evils, from Italy. He had done his best to see the devil, without ever, as he told me himself, being able to do so ; he desired to see extraorcUnary things and to know the future. The Sery had a little girl of eight or nine in her household, who had never left it and had all the simphcity and ignorance of that age and that education. Among other rascals of hidden mysteries, of whom the Due d'Orldans had seen many in his life, was one, brought to him at his mistress's house, who pre- tended to make anything a person wished to know visible in a glass of water, only requiring a young and innocent 1706] MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. 5 child or youth to look into it. This little girl was just the thing. They amused themselves therefore by seeking to know what was happening at the time in distant places, and the little girl looked and related what she saw. The dupery which the Due d'Orldans had so often ex- perienced made him seek an experiment which should really convince him. He ordered one of his servants in a whisper to go to the house of Mme. de Nancrd, a few doors off, and find out what was going on in her salon, and also the furniture of the room, and bring him word instantly without losing a moment or speaking to a soul. This was done in a second ; no one noticed it, and the little girl was still in the room. As soon as the Due d'Orldans learned the facts, he told the little girl to look in the glass and tell him what was going on at Mme. de Nancrd's. Instantly she related to them, word for word, all that the man whom the Due d'Orldans had sent reported that he had seen, — the description of persons, faces, dresses, those who were playing at the different tables, the arrangement of the furniture, in a word, everything. The Due d'Orldans im- mediately sent Nancrd himself to see what was going on, and the latter stated that he found everything as the little girl had said, and as the valet had reported it to the Due d'Orldans in a whisper. He seldom si)oke to me of these things because I took the lib(;rty to cry sliainc upon him. I took it now about this talc, and said all 1 could to deter him from putting faith in these deceptions and amusing himself with thoin, especially at a time wIhmi lie ought to have liia mind occu|)i(;d with so niany great matters. " Hut that is not all," he said; " I have, only told you that to lead to tins rest," and then he related to nie how, enc(juraged by tiie correct- ness of wliat the little girl hud seen in Mudtunc do Nuncrd's 6 MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON, [chap. i. room, he wished to know something more important, and to discover what would happen on the death of the king, but not the period of it, which could not be seen in the glass. Accordingly he asked her this at once. The little girl had never heard of Versailles, or known any one but him belonging to the Court. She looked, and then ex- plained to them at great length what she saw. She gave, correctly, a description of the king's bedroom at Versailles, and of its furniture at the time of his death ; she described him perfectly as he lay in his bed, also all those who stood about him or in the chamber, and particularly a httle child wearing the Order, held by Mme. de Ventadour, about whom she exclaimed because she had seen her at Mile, de Sdry's. She described Mme. de Maintenon, the sin- gular appearance of Fagon, Madame, Mme. la Duchesse d'Orl^ans, Mme. la Princesse de Conti, and she exclaimed at seeing M. le Due d'Orldans : in a word, she related to them what she saw of princes or persons in waiting, sei- gneurs and valets. When she had finished, the Due d'Orl^ans, surprised that she had not described Monseigneur, the Due de Bourgogne, the Duchesse de Bourgogne, or the Due de Berry, asked her if she saw no persons who looked thus and so. She replied repeatedly, no ; and then told over agam exactly what she saw. He could not com- prehend it, and expressed to me his great surprise, trying to find a reason. Events explained it. We were then in 1706 ; all four were full of life and health, but all four were dead before the king. This curiosity answered, the Due d'Orldans wished to know what was to happen to himself. That could not be told in the glass. The man who performed these things offered to show it to him as if pictured on the wall of the room, provided he would have no fear at seeing himself ; and 1700] MEMOIRS OF THE DUC DE SAINT-SIMON. 7 after a quarter of an hour spent in grimacing before them all, the form of the Due d'Orldans, dressed as he then was and of his natural size, appeared on the wall like a painting, with a couroniie ferm.ee, upon his head. It was neither the French, Spanish, English, nor the Imperial crown. The Due d'Orl^ans, who looked at it with all his eyes, could not imagine what it was, and had never seen anything hke. it. It had but four arches and nothing at the top. This crown covered his head. From this and the preceding obscurity I took occasion to point out to him the emptiness of such curiosity, and the deceptions of the devil, which God permits in order to punish a curiosity which he forbids ; also the darkness and nothingness which resulted in place of the light and the satisfaction he had looked for. He was then, assuredly, very far from being Eegent of the kingdom, or from imagining the possibihty of it. That was perhaps what the strange couronne fermee indicated to him. All this happened in Paris at the house of his mistress, in presence of their most private circle the evening before the day when he related it to me. I thought it so extraordmary that I gave it a place here, not in approval of it, but merely to record it. The Due d'Orldans joined M. de Vendome on the Mincio July 17, with whom he conferred as much as he could, but The Due d'Orie- nothing like as nnicli as he wished, and still ans dissatisfied i „ i mi with the siege of ^^'^^ ^» "^^ch as was ncccssary. That pre- Turin- tended hero had just made irreparable faults. The Due d'Orlc^ans on his way had passed by the siege of Turin, where La Feuillade receiver I liim magnificently and showed him all tlie works. The prince was satisfied with none of thoiu. Thoy were attacking at a point ho should not have chosen, iind in tliat lie iigrced with Catiiiat. wlio know Turin, wilJi \';uihun who h:ul forlilidil i(, iind with 8 MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. [chap. i. Phdlypeaux who had lived there many years, — all three without consulting each other. The prince was also dis- satisfied with the works themselves ; and he thought the siege was advancing slowly. Vendome having departed, the Due d'Orldans was left to what was worse, the tutelage of Marsin. After observing the enemy for several days he resolved to post himself between Alexandria and Valence and prevent them from crossing the Tanaro [tributary to the Po]. That passage was the only one by which they could advance, and if prevented they would be forced to abandon the rehef of Tm'in. The prince proposed this to the marshal, but could not persuade him to it. As for the reason, impossible to give it, for Marsin himself alleged none that was apparent. He was mastered by La Feuillade, who wanted to keep the army about him, and Marsin thought only of satisfying the son-in-law of the all-powerful minister of war. Marsin being unpersuadable, the Due d'OrMans was forced to yield, and little by little return to Turin and join the besieging army. The enemy approaching steadily, the prince pressed the marshal to leave the lines and give battle to Prince Council of war at Eug^uc. Maxsin, chcckcd by La Feuillade, d'Orisans ceases replied that all the prince's reasons were to give orders. souud, but that the course he proposed could not be taken without reinforcements. The dispute grew so hot that ]\Iarsin consented at last to call a council of war, and all the lieutenant-generals were summoned. The matter was debated ; but La Feuillade, the favourite son-in-law of a minister [Chamillart] who was the arbiter of the fortunes of all soldiers, and Marsin, the depositary it was beheved of the real power, were followed. D'Estaing was the only man who dared to speak out bravely, a fact the prince never for- got. The result of this council was that the Due d'Orl^ans 1706] MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. 9 protested before all present against the disasters which must occur, declared that, being master in nothing, it was not just that he should bear the shame that the nation and his family were about to incur, and called for his post-chaise, intending to leave the army at once. The most distinguished members of the council did all they could to prevent this. Eecovering from his first impulse, and satisfied perhaps to have shown his firmness and to have manifested strongly how little the disasters that were imminent could be imputed to him, he consented to remain. But at the same time, he stated plainly that he would have nothing further to do with the command of the army. Such was the state of things during the last three days of this disastrous siege. The Due d'Orldans, dismissed by himself, stayed in his own quarters, or sometimes rode about, and wrote strongly to the king against Marsin, rendering him an exact report of every- thing, which he made the marshal read, charging him to send it by the first courier he despatched, as he himself would send none, being no longer in command of the army. On the night of the 6th and 7th of September, the latter being the day of the battle, though he refused to be con- cerned in anything, no matter what, he was wakened to receive a note, sent to him by a partisan, containing infor- mation that Prince Eug(ine was about to cross the Doire, and intended to march directly to the attack. In spite of his resolution, the prince dressed in haste and went him- self to Mardchal do Marsin, whom he found trancjuilly in bed, showed him the letter, and proposed to liim to marcli in- stantly on tlie OMcmy, attack them, and profit by tlieir sur- ])risc and ii (lidicull. Hriciiin which Ihcy iiivd to cross. The niurslial was iirunovable. lie niuintaiued that the infor- mation wan fa1s(^ tliiit IM'inco l*lng(Nno could not arrive ho quickly, and advised tlic. Due d'(.)rl(iaus to go buck to bod, 10 MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. [chap. i. refusing to give the slightest order. The prince, more affronted and disgusted than ever, retired to liis own quar- ters, firmly resolved to leave everytliing to the deaf and blind fools who would neither hear nor see anything. Shortly after his return to his room, information arrived from all quarters of Prince Eugene's approach. He did not stir. D'Estaing and some other generals came to him and forced him, in spite of himself, to mount his horse. He rode carelessly, at a slow pace, across the head of the camp. All that had happened during the last few days had made too much commotion for the army, even the private sol- diers, not to hear of it. His rank, the correctness and firmness of his views, of which old soldiers are not incapable of being good judges, especially some among them who re- membered what they had seen him do at Leuze, Steinkerke, and at Neerwinden, — all this made them murmur at the thought that he was no longer willing to command the army. As he rode along in this manner across the line of camps, a Piedmontese soldier called out to him by name, and asked if he refused them his sword. Those words did more than all the general ofl&cers had been able to do with him. He replied to the soldier that he asked it with too much reason to be refused, and instantly crushing underfoot all his just and keen resentment, he thought only of helping Marsin and La Eeuillade in spite of themselves. I had gone to spend a month at La Fertd, where I re- ceived the news from Italy which the Due d'Orldans was Singular rapidity carcful to scud uic, together with letters in with which I hear ■■• i ,.. , , ,., ., of the disasters ^^'^ 0'^'*'^ hand^vrltmg when he did not wish before Turin. what lie said to me to go through others. I was therefore fully informed as to the disasters that were being prepared for us, and very uneasy, when a gentleman, arriving from Eouen at his brother's house, which was near 1707] MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DK SAINT-SIMON. 11 mine, met us as we were walking in the park, Mme. de Saint- Simon and I, with some company, and told us of the disaster at Turin, with the exact particulars about the Due d'Orl^ans, ]\Iar^chal Marsin, and all the rest of it, exactly as the king heard it three days later by the courier who brought the news (and I, four days later, from the Court and by my letters which came from Paris). We have never been able to comprehend how it was that this sad news should have been brought with such extreme, not to say incredible rapid- ity ; the gentleman told us nothing except that the accuracy of the news could be relied on, and we never saw him again, to ask him how he obtained it, for he died soon after. I was deeply grieved that these misfortunes should happen to us under the hand of the Due d'Orldans, although he was so perfectly innocent of them. Fever seized me, and I went to Paris; not stopping at Versailles, in order to escape the tyranny of its Faculty. The urgent condition of affairs, which greatly increased the war expenses by our losses of troops and territory, had 1707. obliged the king for two or three years past to Retrenchments, diminish, and then to curtail, the New Year's gifts that he always gave to the sons and daughters of France, which amounted to a very large sum. The royal treasury always brought him at the first of every year, for his own use, thirty-five thousand louis-d'or, no matter what their current value might be. Tliis year, 1 707, he retrenched that sum by ten thousand. The burden of this economy fell on Mme. de Montespan. Ever since she harl left the Court forever, the king gave her twelve thousand louis-d'or every year; D'O was employed to take her three thousand every three months. But this year the king s(!nt her word by tlio same means that he coidd not give; h(;r iiion^ thiiii (sight thousand. Mnic. de Montespan exi)reHnud not the .slightest aunoyauco; sho 12 MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. [chaf. i. merely replied that she was sorry for the poor ; to whom, in fact, she gave profusely. Mgr. le Due de Bourgogne, who had lately sold the jewels that he inherited from his mother, the late dauphine (and he had a great many), had also given all their proceeds to the poor. Mme. la Duchesse de Bourgogne gave birth to a second Due de Bretagne [the first having died in April, 1705], most Birth of the second happily and quickly, on Saturday, January 8, Due de Bretagne. ^ ^^^j^ ^^^^^^ • , -^ ^ momiug. The public joy was great; but the king, who had already lost one grandson, forbade the expenses which w^ere incurred at the first birth, the amount of which was enormous. He wrote to the Due de Savoie to announce the event, in spite of the war and his grounds for displeasure, and received a reply of thanks and mutual rejoicing. About this time there died an old bishop who had neglected nothing to make himself a fortune and be a per- Deathofthe souagc. This was Eoqucttc, a man of small Bishop of Autun. beginnings, who had caught the bishopric of Autun, and in the end, not being able to do better, gov- erned, by dint of suppleness and manoeuvres around M. le Prince, the districts of Bourgogne. He had been of all colours, — devoted to Mme. de Longueville, to her brother the Prince de Conti, to Cardinal Mazarin, and, above all, given over to the Jesuits. All sugar and honey; intimate with the most important women of those times ; into all intrigues; and, with it all, of the greatest piety. It was from him that Molifere took his Tartuffe ; no one failed to recognize him. The archbishop of Keims, passing through Autun, admired his magnificent buffet. " You see there," he replied, " the food of the poor." " It seems to me," said the archbishop, gruffly, " you might have given them the cost of that carving." He pocketed such affronts without blinking ; 1707] MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. 13 in fact, he was more obsequious to those who gave them; but for all that lie pursued his ends without ever turning a step aside. In spite of all he could do, however, he remamed at Autun, and never made more of a fortune. Towards the end, he paid much court to the King and Queen of England. All was good to his muid where he saw 'hopes and could thrust himself and squirm. M. d' Autun, to finish him with a last touch, had a lachrymal fistula. Shortly after the death of the King of England, he pretended to have been miraculously cured by his in- tercession. He went to tell this to the Queen of England, to Mme. de Maintenon, and to the king. In fact, the eye did appear different. But a few days later it returned to its usual condition, and the fistula could no longer be hidden. He was so ashamed of the failure of this hoax that he fled to his diocese and seldom appeared again. The king now appointed the generals and the general officers to the armies, Mar^chal Tess^ was named in the The generals beginning of February for the command of appointed to the the army ordered to return to Italv, Mard- armies. chal de Villars to the army of the Rhine, and M. de Vendome to that of Flanders under the Elector of Bavaria. The Mardchal de Berwick remained in Spain. M. le Due d'Orldans, not wishing to be left with the bad taste of Italy in his mouth, and seeing but little chance of taking an army there, desired and obtained permission to go to Spain. Tlie fiital experience the prince had liad with Marechal de Marsin made the king give him absolute authority, at the expense of the Due d(? Berwick. It was a great joy to the prince to continue in the command of an army, and actually to command it, not as a (iguro-homl, but as a reality, lie. l)egan his preparations at once. The king asked him wboni \u\ inlcndcil to take willt him. 14 MEMOIRS OF THE DUC DE SAINT-SIMON. [chap. i. Among others the duke named Fontpertuis. " What ! nephew," said the king, much stirred, " the son of that crazy woman who ran after M. Arnauld everywhere, — a Jansenist ! I will not have him with you." " Upon my word, sire," replied M. d'Orldans, " I don't know what the mother did, but as for the son, a Jansenist indeed ! Why, he does n't believe in God ! " " Is that possible ? " said the king ; " are you sure ? If that is so, there is no harm, and you can take him." The same afternoon M. d'Orl^ans, splitting with laughter, told me the story. That is where ■ the king had been led ! — actually to see no comparison between being a Jansenist and having no religion, and to prefer the latter. The Due d'Orldans thought the story so amusing he could not hold his tongue about it; people laughed much both at Court and in Paris, and the freest thinkers admired the blindness into which the Jesuits and the Sulpicians could drive a mind. The story went the rounds everywhere and the wonder is that the king was not angrj'. But it showed his attachment to sound doctrine and his ever-increasing aversion to Jansenism. Most persons laughed over it with all their hearts, but some, who were wiser, were more inclined to weep than to laugh, reflecting sadly to what an extreme of blindness the king had been led. This Fontpertuis was a great scamp; friend in debauchery of M. de Donzi, afterwards Due de Nevers, and a very fine tennis-player. The Due d'Orl^ans was fond of tennis ; and Donzi presented to him Fontpertuis, to whom he took a liking. Long afterwards, during the Regency, he gave him the means of winning fortune out of the too famous Mississippi, always in concert with the Due de Nevers. But when the two became gorged with millions (Fontpertuis out of all proportion to the other) they quarrelled, said dire things of each other, and never met again. 1707] MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. 15 Cliamillart, overwhelmed with the double labour of the war and the tiiiances, had time neither to eat nor sleep. Condition of Aimles destroyed in nearly all the campaigns the finances. jjy battles lost, frontiers suddenly and ex- tensively driven in, through the bewildered heads of unhappy generals, had exhausted all the resources of men and money. The minister, at an end of his means for seeking either, vmable to meet even current expenses, had more than once represented his inability to suffice for the two employments, which in the best of times would have required all the efforts of two strong men. The king, who had put the two offices upon him in order to shelter him- self from the contentions between the ministries of war and of finance which had wearied him in the days of MM. Colbert and Louvois, could not bring himself to relieve Chamillart of the finances. The latter made a virtue of necessity, but, in the end, the machine succumbed. He began to have nervous fancies, giddiness, faintings. Every- thing went to his head. He could not digest liis food. He grew visibly thinner. Still, the wheel was forced to go round without interruption, and, in fact, in the present con- tingencies there was none but he who could make it turn. He wrote the king a pathetic letter, asking to be relieved. In it he hid nothing from him as to the sad condition of affairs and the impossibility he felt, for want of time and health, to remedy it. He reminded him of tlie many times and tin; many occasions when he liad shown him tlie truth by abridged reports ; he called his attention once more to the urgent and multifarious cases which were pressing cue upon another, each demanding a long, studious, continued, and assiduous labour, on whicli, ov(!n if his health had allowed it, the multitude of his occupation.s, all indispen- sable, loft him not one hour to bestow. The letter ended 16 MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON, [chap. i. by saying that he should ill repay the king's kindness and confidence if he did not tell him that all would perish if the remedy of dismissing him were not applied. In writing to the king he always left broad margins, on which the king made comments in his own handwriting, and returned the letters. Chamillart showed me this one when it came back to him, and I saw with great surprise these words in the king's handwriting at the end of a brief note : " Well, then ! we will perish together ! " Chamillart was equally gratified and distressed ; but the words did not give him back his strength. He failed to attend the councils, especially that of the despatches, when- ever he could avoid reporting to them. Usually the kiag allowed him to speak first, and as soon as he had done so he went away, — the reason being that he could not stand ; at the council of despatches all the secretaries and the minis- ters remain on their feet as long as it lasts ; at the other councils they are permitted to sit down. The necessities of public business compelled the adoption of all sorts of means to obtain money. Contractors profited by these necessities to extort enormously; the parhaments had long been in no condition to dare to remonstrate. A tax was now imposed upon baptisms, and another on mar- riages, without the slightest respect for religion or the sacra- ments, and with no consideration whatever for all that is most indispensable to civil society. This edict was ex- tremely onerous and odious. The consequences, and they came quickly, produced a strange confusion. The poor and many of the smaller people baptized their children them- selves without taking them to church ; and they married each other beneath the chimney-piece by reciprocal con- sent in presence of witnesses, when they could not find a priest who would marry them at home and without formah- 1707] MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. 17 ties. Hence confusion in baptismal registers ; no certainty as to baptisms, consequently as to births ; no assured position for the children of such marriages. Eigorous search was made against this very prejudicial abuse; that is to say, inquisitorial efforts and harshness were employed to enforce the tax. Public outcries and murmurs passed into sedition in many places. In Cahors it went so far that two battalions which were stationed there could scarcely prevent the peasantry from seizing the town ; and it was necessary to employ the troops who were under orders for Spain, which delayed the Due d'Orleans' departure. In Pdrigord all the peasantry rose, pillaged the government bureaus, made themselves masters of a little town and several chateaux, and forced some of the gentlemen to put themselves at their head. They declared openly that they would pay the taille and the poU-tax, the tithe to their rectors, the dues to their sei- gneurs, but that they could not pay more ; neither would they listen to any further taxes or vexations. In the end it be- came necessary to drop this decree of taxation on baptisms and marriages, to the great regret of contractors, who en- riched themselves cruelly by the multitude of these vexatious exactions, as well as by their own cheatery. We have already seen how Mar(ichal Yauban proposed to relieve the people from vexatious taxation. Let us here do justice to the integrity and good intentions of Chamillart. In spite of his dislike, ho was willing to make trial of those new means. It resulted, howev(ir, that what ho did with a good intention turned to poison, and gave new strength to tlio enoiuies of tlie systcni ; lor i\w awakening he udw gave to the "royal titlu; " was not forgotten, and soiuo time later, instead of ciriiiloying it as the only tax (ac- cording to Mardchal Vauban's proposed system), it was 18 MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON, [chap. i. imposed, as we shall see, on all property of all kinds in addition to the other taxes, and was renewed on the occa- sion of every war. In fact, in times of peace the king has still retained his tithe on all salaries, wages, and pensions. That is how France has guarded the most sacred and useful intentions, and how it has suffered the stream of good to be diied at its source. Who could have told Mar^chal Vauban that his labour for the relief of all who inhabit France would solely have served, and ended in, a new and additional tax, harder, more permanent, more onerous than all the rest ? It is a terrible lesson, calculated to stop the wisest proposals in the matter of taxation and finance. An event as strange as it was singular caused the king much anxiety and put both the Court and city in a ferment. The king's On Thursday, March 7, Beringhen, first equerry, ^rrdTtSe'nl l^a^^i^g foll'^^^ed the king on his drive to of the enemy. ]\Iarly, and returned with him to Versailles, started at seven o'clock in the evening for Paris, alone in his carriage, — that is to say, in one of the king's carriages, — two of the king's outriders behind, and a groom carrpng a torch before him on the seventh horse. He was stopped on the plain of Bissancourt, between a farmhouse by the roadside, not far from the bridge of Sevres, and a tavern called the Point-du-Jour. Fifteen or sixteen men on horseback surrounded the carriage and carried him off. The coachman immediately turned round and drove back, with the outriders, to Versailles, where the king was in- formed the instant that they arrived of what had happened. He sent orders to the four secretaries of State, who were at Versailles, I'^fitang, and Paris, to despatch couriers every- where along the frontier, warning the commanders to watch the fords, because it was known that a detachment of the enemy had entered Artois, from which they had not retired. 1707] MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. 19 It seemed at (irst impossible to believe that this could be the enemy ; but the reflection that the first equerry had no personal enmities, that he was not a man with a reputa- tion for money from whom a ransom could be hoped, and that an incident of this kind had never happened except to great financiers, made every one at last accept the belief that it was really a detachment of the enemy. And so it ])roved. One Gueteni, violinist to the Elector of Bavaria, had entered the army of the allies during the last war, be- coming a very good and very bold officer on outpost duty. In this way he rose to be a colonel in the Dutch army. Talking one evening with his comrades, he made a bet that he would carry off some one of mark between Paris and Versailles. He obtained a pass from the enemy's generals, and thirty picked men, nearly aU officers. They crossed the rivers disguised as merchants, which enabled them to post their relays. Several of them stayed eight and ten days at Sevres, Saint-Cloud, and Boulogne ; some had the boldness to go to Versailles and see the king at supper. One of the latter was captured the next day, and answered (Jliamillart, who questioned him, very insolently. ■ One of the guards of M. le Prince caught another in the forest of Chantilly, from whom it was learned that they kept a relay and a post-chaise at Morlifere for the prisoner ; but by the time this was known they had already put him into it, and crossed the Oise. The blund(!r tliey made was in not carrying off the car- riage with Beringhen in it as far as they could under favour of the darkness, thus dcdaying the knowlcidgi! of his cap- ture, and also sparing him ])iitl oF (he mad on horse- l)a(k and ho gaitiing more time for their retreat. Instead of that, they fatigued him too much at the trot and gallop. It Hoerns tliat they had hi tlie uhuncellor go by them, not 20 MEMOIES OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. [chap. i. daring to stop him in open day ; and after dark they missed the Due d'Orl^ans, despising his common post-chaise. Tired of waiting and fearing to attract notice, they threw them- selves on the next carriage, and thought they had done wonders when they saw by the light of the groom's torch the carriage and liveries of the king, with a man inside wearing a blue ribbon across his doublet — which is always worn by the first equeny^. He was not long in their hands before he found out who they were, and also let them know what he was himself. Guetem showed him every sort of respect and a friendly desire to spare him fatigue as much as possible. He even carried this desire so far that it caused the failure of his raid. He allowed Beringhen to stop and rest twice, and so missed one of their relays, which retarded them much. Besides the couriers despatched to the frontiers, others had been sent to the intendants, and to the troops in quarters ; also a detachment of the Idng's guards was sent after them, and the entire "little stable" force, by whom M. le Premier was much beloved, scattered them- selves over the country in all directions. Still, no matter what care was taken in guarding the fords, the party had crossed the Somme and was four leagues beyond Ham, the prisoner being guarded by three officers, on his parole to make no effort to escape (the rest having gone off in search of a relay), when a cavalry sergeant came upon them, fol- lowed at a little distance by a detachment of the regiment of Livry, and soon after by another ; so that Guetem, find- ing himself the weaker party, surrendered and became the prisoner of his prisoner. Beringhen, dehghted at his rescue, and very^ grateful to have been so well treated, carried his prisoners to Ham, where he rested a whole day and treated them, in his 1707] MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. 21 turn, to the best. He sent a courier to his wife and to Chamillart. The king, much relieved, read aloud at supper the letters he had written. On the 29th of March Beringhen reached Versailles about eight in the evening and went straight to Mme. de Maintenon's apartment, where the king received him well and made him tell his adventures. Though the king had a great regard for his equerry, he nevertheless did not like that the " little stable " should make a fete of his return, for which fireworks had been prepared. He sent word to forbid all such signs of rejoic- ing, and the fireworks were not let off. The king was full of such petty jealousies ; he wanted all things to be devoted to himself, without participators. Berincrhen had sent Guetem and his officers to his own house in Paris to await the orders of the king ; where they were treated very much above their station. Beringhen obtained permission for Guetem to see the king at the usual review which he always made of his household troops at Marly before the opening of the campaign. The equerry did more; he presented Guetem to the king, who praised him for having treated Beringhen so well, adding that war should always be conducted honourably. Guetem, who had his wits about him, replied tliat he was so surprised to find himself in presence of the greatest king in the world, who did him the li oflon talked of it; ]n' (laid Imh memory all Korts of rcHpect ; and he eiune to tn»! al)fnit every thin(j: and for everylhiii|.f, with reMpcet and friendship; wliich hitd many ciirioiiM retmltN in the end, 24 MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. [chap. i. often went to dine alone with Mme. de Lislebonne's daugh- ters, or with them and Mme. la Duchesse and certain privileged men and women, but always with the same air of mystery; and it was these secret gatherings, which soon became pretty frequent, which were called at court les parvulo de Meudon. By this time Mile. Choin no longer occupied the entresol She slept in the bed and the grand apartment occupied by the Duchesse de Bourgogne when the king went to Meudon. She was always seated in an armchair in presence of Mon- seigneur, while the Duchesse de Bourgogne had a stool. Mile. Choia never rose to receive her, and behaved to her exactly as did IMme. de Maintenon, except that she did not call her " mignonne " nor did the duchess call her " Aunt," neither was the latter half so free nor so much at her ease as with the king and Mme. de Maiatenon. The Due de Bour- gogne was under great constraint. His manners and morals and those of the circle at Meudon agreed very little. The Due de Berry, whose manners were freer, was more at his ease. Mme. la Duchesse ruled the roast, and several of her favourites were from time to time admitted. But for all that, never did Mile. Choin appear openly. On feast-days she went at six o'clock in the morning to hear mass by herself in a comer of the chapel, well bundled-up in her hoods ; she ate her meals alone, unless Monseigneur came up and ate them with her, which never happened when he slept at Meudon except on the day of his arrival; and never did she set foot outside of her o%vn apartment or the entresol; when she went from the one to the other, the way was carefully inspected and barricaded so that no one should meet her. She was considered to be to Monseigneur what Mme. de Maintenon was to the king. All the batteries for the future were pointed and aimed at her. The courtiers long caballed 1707] MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. 25 for peraiission to visit her iii Paris, and paid their court to her old and more particular friends. The Due de Bour- gogne and the duchess sought to please her, and were always respectful before her and attentive to her friends, but not always successfully. She treated the Due de Bourgogne with the regard of a stepmother (which she was not), but a stiff and constrained regard, and it sometimes happened that she spoke with such authority and with so little consideration to the Duchesse de Bourgogne as to make her cry. The king and Mme. de Maintenon were not ignorant of all this, but they held their tongues ; and the whole Court, which knew of it, talked about it in whispers. Mme. de Lislebonne had a very clever mind, eminently fitted to have made her a great personage in her race, had she lived in the times of the League. Her eldest daughter, Mile, de Lislebonne, with a tranquil, indifferent outward air, much politeness, though restricted and measured, with vast and high ideas and all the discernment and knowledge necessary to keep them from being castles in the air, had by nature great loftiness, integrity, knowledge of how to love and hate, and less manoeuvring than ability to manage and control. She had great perseverance, with much wit, no meanness, no suppleness, but mistress of herself to bend whenever suitable, enough intelligence to do so with dignity and to make the value of her condescension felt by those of whom she had need, withcjut wounding them or rendering them less favourable. Iler sister. Mine. d'Espinoy, with little intelligence, supple and HonictimcM buH(!, not for vvuiit of heart or pride but lack of mind, was all niiino'iivring, with a ])olilcness loss cautious than that of her Mister, and an air t)f kindliness which easily made dupes. She knew how to servtt and how to attach lier friends, Tliu virtue of tlie Histers and their presence were 26 MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. [chap. i. alike imposing. The elder, very simply dressed and without beauty, inspired respect ; the younger, beautiful and graceful, attracted. Both were veiy tall and well-made ; but, to those who had a nose, an odour of the League issued from their pores ; neither was malicious for the sake of being so ; on the contrary, they behaved in a manner to remove all sus- picion of it, but when things did not go to their interests or their wishes they were terrible. Besides these natural dispositions, they had learned much from two persons, with whom they were intimately united, the two men of all the Court best fitted to instruct such natures by their experience and their cast of mind. Mile, de Lislebonne and the Chevalier de Lorraine were all their lives so completely one that no one ever doubted they were married. This brought the latter into union with Mme. d'Espinoy, and allied both sisters with the Mar^chal de Villeroy, the intimate and very humble friend of the Cheva- lier de Lorraine ; and it was through the Mardchal de Ville- roy that the king, so jealous of every one who approached Monseigneur, not only conceived no dishke to the sisters, but actually placed confidence in them, was very glad of his son's intimate relations with them, and showed them in every way such distinguished consideration, lasting even after Monseigneur's death, that we must conclude the two sisters, or at any rate the younger, played the same secret part to Monseigneur on behalf of the king that the Chevalier de Lorraine had played all his life to Monsieur, whom he governed absolutely. On Monseigneur's part, their reign over his mind was untroubled. Mile. Choin, his Maintenon in all respects except marriage, was devoted to them imreservedly. She never forgot that although Mme. de Lislebonne and her daughters owed everything — their subsistence, their intro- 1707] MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. 27 duction to Monseigneur's intimacy, the beginning of their consideration in the world — to the Princesse de Conti, they nevertheless had not hesitated to sacrifice their benefactress to her ; not led to do so by any discontent, but solely from a knowledge of Monseigneur's desires, and the utility of being alone in his confidence after the dismissal of Mile. Choin from the Princesse de Conti's service. She had been too long a witness to that confidence and to the friendship of JMonseigneur for the two sisters (with w^hom he usually spent an hour or two in the morning) to jar with them in any way. She remained therefore intimately allied with them, and also with Mme. la Duchesse, whose gay and equable temper and perfect health made her the queen of pleasures and a refuge to Monseigneur from the constant ill-humour of the Princesse de Conti. Mme. la Duchesse, who was neither ill-humoured nor jealous, and to whom Monseigneur's new habit of coming to see her familiarly was not indifferent as a relief from the furies of M. le Prince and M. le Due, took very good care to give no of- fence to the three others, the older and most confidential friends of Monseigneur. These four women were therefore, in regard to the prince, and in other matters common to themselves, in a close understanding, which never cooled in any way ; they helped one another in perfect concert ; each holding herself free at the king's death, if Monseigneur survived him, to sujiplant the ()tli(;rs re(;i])r()(;ally, iuid reniaiu solo mistress without dependence! on the rest; united meanwhile in the closest bond, and liolding inider their coinnion yoke tli(5 few men who, through Moiisoigneur's liking or their own in(histrious court' to him, ini^hr hiivc a rutiirr. N'ciidunic, t hfinsolvea, Vuii(h'.inonl,, and M. (hi Maine wcmh; those most eU)sely allied, hut tlie liitl,(ir, lis I IN I lid, Hecretly. 28 MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. [chap. i. M. du Maine felt that Monseigneur did not like him. No better way therefore to approach him, little by little, than M. andMme. du tlirougli these Confidential friends. Vendome Maine; their ^^^^ ^^^^ Sufficient. The king was getting old, characters and " o o ' conduct. and Monseigneur was nearing the throne ; M. du Maine trembled at the thought. With the mind, I will not say of an angel, but of the devil whom he resembled in doing service to none, but ill turns to all, in deep-laid schemes, in arrogant pride, in profoundest falsity, in artifices without number, in feigned characteristics beyond all esti- mate, yet pleasing, with the art of amusing, diverting, charming when he wished to charm, — he was a gifted poltroon in heart and mind, and being so, a most dangerous poltroon, and the best fitted, provided it could be done underhand, to go to the most temble extemities to save himself from whatever he feared, and also to lend himself to grovelling meanness and slavishness, by which the devil lost nothing. He was, moreover, pushed on by a woman of the same stamp, whose mind, and she had a great deal, had long been spoiled and corrupted by the reading of novels and plays ; to a passion for which she abandoned herself so much that she spent whole years in learning dramas by heart and playing them publicly herself. She had courage to excess ; she was enterprising, audacious, passionate, knowing nothing but the present passion and making everything bend to that. In- dignant against the prudence and precautions of her husband, which she called miserable weakness, slie constantly re- proached him for the honour she had done him in marrying him ; she forced him to be supple and humble before her by treating him like a negro, and she ruined him from top to bottom without his daring to say a word, bearing everything in his great terror lest her head should give way altogether. 1707] MEMOIRS OF THE DUO DE SAINT-SIMON. 29 Though he hid a great deal from her, the ascendency she had over him was incredible ; and it was by force of blows that she drove him wherever she would.^ No understanding was ever come to by the Meudon cabal with the Comte de Toulouse. He was a man of few words, The Comte de ^ut liouour, virtue, integrity, truth, equity itself, Toulouse. ^^.-^.j-^ ^ manner as gracious as natural iciness would allow, courage, and a desire to make himself something, but always by good means ; a man in whom a just and up- right sense in all ordinary matters supplied the place of intel- lect ; very industrious in learning the maritime features of war and commerce both, and understanding them very well. A man of this character was not made to be on intimate terms with his brother or his sister-in-law. M. du Maine saw that he was liked and respected because he deserved to be, and was envious. The Comte de Toulouse, wise, silent, deliberate, felt this, but gave no sign of doing so. He could not endure the follies of his sister-in-law. She saw it plainly, and it made her furious ; she could not endure him in turn, and did her best to alienate the brothers still farther from each other. The Comte de Toulouse had always been on good terms with the Due de Bourgogne and the duchess, who treated him with respect and consideration. He was timid with the king, who amused himself much more witli M. du Maine, the Pjcnjamin of Mme. do Maintenon, his old governess, to whom \ut liad sacrificed Mme. de Montespan, a fact that ncitlier of tlicin could ever forget. Du Maine had the art to persuade the king that with nnicli intelligence, wliit li ii(t niif coidd d(Miy liiiii, lie liiid no vicnvs, no niiil)iti(in ; in short, wn.s an idiot of l(!iHure, solitude, rctircinent, and tlic grcntest dupe in the world in every way. He passed his life in liis study, ato ' Klie wiiH Aiiiie-B(Jn(5(licto Invuiidca. — Tii. 62 MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON, [chap. in. of his business. De Coste, his brother-in-law, whom he made head architect, knew no more than he. They got their plans, designs, and ideas from a designer of buildiags named L'Assurance, whom they kept, as much as they could, under lock and key. Mansart's cunning lay in coaxing the king by apparent trifles into long and costly enterprises, and by showing him incomplete plans, especially for the gardens, which instantly captured his mind and caused him to make suggestions ; then Mansart would exclaim that he never should have thought of what the king proposed, went into raptures, declared he was but a scholar compared to him, and so made the king tumble whichever way he pleased without suspecting it. Plans in hand he made his way into the cabinets, and, Httle by little, into all of them and at all hours, often without his plans and without having any- thing to say about his business. Fuially, he began to mingle in the conversation, and accustomed the king to talk with him about the news of the day and other matters. Sometimes he hazarded questions, but he chose his mo- ments ; he knew the king to perfection, and never mistook the time to be famihar or to keep himself reserved. He would show specimens of this privilege during the king's walks, in order to let people know what he could do ; but he never used his power to harm any one; though it might have been dangerous to wound him. He thus acquired a consideration by which he subdued to his interests not only the seigneurs and princes of the blood, but the bastards, the ministers, who carefully kept on good terms with him, and even the principal household valets. The king, who thought it very bad if the courtiers when ill did not go to Fagon and submit themselves entirely to him, had precisely the same weakness for Mansart; it 1708] MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. G3 would have been a dangerous short-coming in any one who built buildings or made gardens not to have given himself wholly up to Mansart, who on his side thought the same thing himself. But he was not capable. He built the bridge at Moulins, and thought it a masterpiece of solidity, of which he boasted with much complacency. Four or five months after it was finished, Charlus, father of the Due de L^vi, came to the king's lever, on arriving from his estates, which are close to Moulins. He was a clever man, rather discontented, and apt to be caustic. Mansart, who was present, wanted praises about his bridge, and finally asked the king to inquire about it. Charlus said nothing. The king, observing that he did not enter the conversation, asked him for news of the bridge at Moulins. " Sire," replied Charlus, "I don't know anything since it went off, but I think it must be near Nantes at the present moment." " What do you think I am talking about ? " said the king. " I mean the bridge at Mouhns." " Yes, sire," replied Charlus, tranquilly, " the bridge at Moulins ; it got loose the night before I came away and floated off down the river." The king and Mansart were amazed, and the courtiers turned round to laugh. The fact was exactly so. The bridge at Blois, built by Mansart some time previously, had played him the same trick. He made immense sums out of his works and his con- tracts, and all else that concerned his buildings, of which ho was the absolute master, and with such authority that not a workman, contractor, or ikmhoii about the buildings would have dared to sj)c.'ik oi- make the slightest fuss. As h(! had no taste, nor thi; king either, he never executed anything fine, nor even convenient, for the vast ex])(MiseH he, infiirr(!(l. Monsoignenr ceased to cniiiloy him nt M(!U(loM, pcicciving (hy the help of olhcis) tliat he was 64 MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON, [chap. iu. trying to embark him in extravagant works. The king, who ought to have been very grateful to Monseigneur and displeased with Mansart, did all he could to reconcile them, even offering to share largely in the costs. But Monsei- gneur, nettled at being taken for a dupe, excused himself. Du Mont told me this fact ; he was always angry about it. That fine chapel at Versailles, fine so far as the workman- ship and the ornamentation go, which took so many years and cost so many millions, and is so badly proportioned, and looks as if it were going to crush the chateau, was only built in that way for a scheme. Mansart had reckoned his proportions from the royal pews only, because the king was almost never likely to enter the chapel from below, and he made this horrible excrescence above the roof of the chateau in order to force the king by that deformity to raise the whole chateau one story ; if the war had not happened just at that time it would have been done ; mean- time Mansart died. A colic of twelve hours' duration carried him off, and made people talk a good deal. Fagon laid hands on him and condemned him gayly, and would not let them give him anything hot; he declared Mansart had killed himself at dinner with too much ice and green peas and other vegetable delicacies, with which, so Fagon said, he regaled himself before the king had any at his own table. The rumour went that certain fermiers des posies were warned that Mansart had undertaken to show the kins certain statements against them, and that he had even obtained the promise from the king of a large sum of money if the warning proved true ; and also that he had refused forty thousand francs a year which the fermiers had offered him to desist in the matter. The unnatural swelling of his body after death, and certain spots found when they opened it, gave ground for singular rumours, whether true or false. 1708] MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. 65 The march of the army under Prince Eugene had divided in two that of the Elector, who had followed it for some _. . time. It seemed easy for our army, by cross- Disasters in '' J ' J Flanders ; defeat ing the Scheldt and burning Audenarde, to bar the country from the enemy and render his subsistence very difficult and ours very abundant, coming as it did by water, and to a camp which could not be attacked. M. de Vendome agreed to all that and alleged nothing to the contrary, but to execute so easy a project it was necessary for him to stir from his present quarters and go into camp. The whole difficulty lay in M. de Vendome's personal laziness ; at ease in his quarters he wanted to enjoy them as long as he could, and he there- fore declared that this movement, which they would always be masters of making, could very well be deferred. The Due de Bourgogne, supported by the whole army and even by several of Vendome's confidants, represented to him vainly that, since this move in his own judgment was a right one, it was worth more taken then than taken later, that there was no difficulty about making it, but delay might possibly hinder or prevent it, which, by Vendome's own acknowledgment, would be disastrous. Vendome, however, was loath to undertake the fatigue of the march and the change of quarters ; he regretted as usual the ease he should have to quit, and these considerations were the stronger. Marll)orough saw clearly that Vendome had nothing better or more important to do than to make that movement, nor he anything better than to prevent it. To make it, Vendome had only to follow the short string of a bent bow ; to stop him, Marlborough had to march round the arch of that bow, wliich was deeply ciirved; in other words, Marlborough had twenty -six leagues to make, ngaiu3t VonJOnio's six at VOL. II — G 66 MEMOIRS OF TIIE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON, [chap. hi. the most. The enemy marched with such diligence that they managed to steal three forced marches before Vendome suspected it. Warned at last, he despised, as he usually did, the warning ; convinced that he could easily head them ofi by marching the next day. The Due de Bourgogne urged him to march that evening ; others, who dared, represented to him the importance and the necessity of doing so. All was useless, in spite of continual news of the march of the enemy. His negligence was so great that he had not even thought of throwing bridges over a stream at the head of the camp. He said it could be done during the night.-' The losses sustained in the battle of Audenarde, where there were many killed and wounded, were concealed as much as possible ; four thousand soldiers and seven hundred officers were made prisoners (not counting those who were heard of afterwards), and the dispersion of the troops was enormous. As soon as the Due de Bourgogne reached Lauendeghem he wrote to the king, in few words, referring him for detads to the Due de Vendome. At the same time he wrote to the Duchesse de Bourgogne, saying, in so many words, that the usual obstinacy and wilful security of the Due de Vendome, which hindered him from marching two days earlier, as he should have done, and as he liimself desired, had caused the sad event which had happened ; that another such disaster would make him leave the army, if he were not prevented from so doing by orders to which he owed a blind obedience ; that he comprehended neither the attack, nor the fight, nor the retreat, and that he felt so outraged he could say no more. The courier who brought these letters took one as he passed ^ Tliis abridgment does not give space for the story of this campaign. History agrees that the defeat at Oudenarde (which Saint-Simon spells Audenarde), the capture of Lille, and the invasion of French territory, were the results of this lethargy on the part of "Vendome. — Tr. •I ,1 1 1708] MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. 67 through Ghent, written by Vendome to the king from that city, in which he tried to persuade him on a single page that the battle was not to our disadvantage. Shortly after he despatched another, also in few words, telling the king that he should have beaten the enemy had he been sustained ; and also that if, contrary to his opinion, the retreat had not been obstinately insisted on, he should certainly have beaten them the next day ; for all details he referred him to Mgr. le Due de Bourgogne. Thus these details, bandied from one to the other, never came, sharpened curiosity, and created a dark- ness by which Vendome expected to save himself. A third courier brought the king a long despatch written by the Due de Bourgogne, and a very short one from M. de Vendome, who still excused himself from sending details on divers pretexts, also a number of letters for private individuals. The king took them and read them all, one among them three times over, and returned very few, and those open. This was directly after the king's supper, so that all the ladies who followed the princesses into the cabinet witnessed these readings, about which the king said nothing. The Duchesse de Bourgogne had a letter from her husband, and a short one from the Due de Berry, who told her that M. de Vendome was very unlucky, and the whole army was down upon him. As soon as the duchess returned to her own apartments she could not refrain from remarking that the Due de Bourgogne had very foolish persons about him, but said no more than that. Biron, who was released by the enemy on parole that ho would not go near our iirmy, arrived at Fontainebleau July 25. His reserve was a useful shield against the indiscreet and impetuous questions addressed to liim. The king saw him several times in private in Mmo. de MiiiutcnoirH apart- meiit, and promised liini Hccrefy, to which lie was strictly 68 MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON, [chap. hi. faithful Biron was a great friend of mine, and I saw him at my ease. He told me much. We must now remember the situation of the Court and its principal personages, their views, their interests, such as I „ , . , have explained them in various places, and Behaviour of -^ ^ the cabal of abovc all my conversation with the Due de Beauvilliers in the gardens of Marly as to the appointment of the Due de Bourgogne to the army of Flanders. "VVe have seen the intimate relations of the bas- tards with Vaudemont, his powerful nieces, and principally with VendSme. We must not lose sight of the interest all these persons had in destroying and dishonouring the Due de Bourgogne, in order not to have to reckon with him during the Ufe of the king, and after the king's death to be rid of liis influence, and so govern Monseigneur themselves upon the throne. That was the general interest of all, ready, as I have said elsewhere, to eat each other up when the time came, until the power remained to one of them. Mile. Choin and her intimates were in the plot up to their necks for the same reason ; and poor Chamillart, whose interest was just the other way for a thousand reasons, and who was far too good and honourable a man to have dabbled in the plot had he known of it, was their bhnd instrument. At first the cabal, bewildered by so disastrous an event, waited for more light and more details, and to avoid making a false step, stopped short to listen. Feeling the danger of its hero, it grew bolder ; cast a few whispers around it to gauge their reception ; bolder still, it broke out aloud in certain places. Encouraged by these essays, which found little opposition in a bewildered community kept without details, it risked a few praises of Vendome ; after that, dis- putes with whoever refused to agree with them, until, en- couraging each other by these successes, they dared at last 1708] MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. 69 to throw the blame openly on the Due de Bourgogne, and very soon after they came to invectives because their first attempts had not been repressed. There was no one but the king and Monseigneur who could have done so. The king was still ignorant of those attempts ; Monseigneur was en- snared ; and besides, he had no courage to overawe any one ; the mass of the courtiers, still in the dark as to the details of the affair and afraid of personages of such influence and high degree, knew nothing and dared make no reply ; they remained therefore in a state of wonder and expectation. All this raised the courage of the cabal. In the absence of details, which Vendome took good care not to furnish, they dared to spread about letters and documents the trickery, falsehood, and imposture of which knew no bounds, and went so far that the only term that I can apply to them is an attempt at impeachment. Before this outburst of the cabal, the Due de Beauvilliers, remembering all that I had said to him at Marly, and thoroughly informed by his letters from Flanders, had come to my room with his heart full of grief to make me a sort of honourable amends. I contented myself with begging him to see that nothing was gained by ignoring what was happening at Court, the selfish interests, the intimacies, the aims, the motives ; and also to be convinced that my dislike of the rank, the pretension, the vices of all these persons did not lead mo to imagine chimeras. As to this outbreak I agreed with liim heartily that the facts had passed all likeli- hood, but I begged him to observe that the most unexpecLud things happened much oftener than people thought, and W(;n; Mill licyniid rui('.si;^lit , if, in []i(\ Innplti of iuiiliil ion, we do not enslave our minds to misconceive anihilious men, iind have no scruples in believing people capable of whatever their desire forollico, favour, and success inspires them to do. 70 MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON, [chap. hi. We had many discussions at various times, he, the Due de Chevreuse and I, on the best means of opening the eyes of the king and arresting this evil. The trouble was, not that the whole Court was corrupted in favour of the Due de Vendome, but that fear held people back ; also the ap- parent uselessness of opposing the ton-ent induced silence and inaction. Boufflers and many others were in that position. We agreed, the two dukes and I, as to what hints we ought to give to the Due de Bourgogne about his conduct both at the army and here, and also about his Duchesse de "^ Bourgogne ; her letters ; and I undertook to warn the Duchesse de Bourgogne, through Mme. de Nogaret, of what we thought she had better know and do. She herself sent that lady to consult with me and to tell me frankly how she stood with the king and Mme. de Maintenon, what she could do and what she could not do. I do not think she had a liking for the Due de Bourgogne personally, or that his affection for her was not irksome to her. I think she found his piety oppressive, and feared a future in which it might become still more so. But amid all that, she felt the value and usefulness of his friendship, and of what sterhng weight his confidence would some day be to her. Xor was she less sensitive to his reputation, on which all his influence rested for many years to come, — until in short, he had an influence of his own as king ; and she saw that until then, if forced to succumb to this storm, dishonoured, and conse- quently an object of shame and distress to the king and to Monseigneur, the greatest misfortunes would result, at any rate a most sad life, in which she herself would have to bear a part. I made her understand, through Mme. de Nogaret, the persons with whom she had to do. She was always verj-- gentle, and still more, very timid ; but the importance of tliis 1708] MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. 71 crisis roused her beyond her natural self. She was, moreover, cruelly stabbed and affronted by the insults of Vendome to her husband, publicly offered to him, and those, so false and atrocious, that his emissaries were now publishing. How- ever moderate, however self-controlled the Due de Bour- gogne's conscience kept him outwardly, he had not been able to restrain the outpourings of his heart in writing to his wife ; and those letters, added to what reached her from other sources, were like stinging goads to her. She did therefore so much, and did it so weU, that she carried the day with Mme. de Maintenon against the veiled artifices, the wily charming, of M. du Maine. She won her, she roused her, she induced her to speak to the king, besieged on all sides, whom nothing could reach on the side of truth and his grandson except through her. The cabal was bewildered to see Mme. de Maintenon escaping M. du Maine and devoting herself to the Due de Bourgogne, and to hear, as the fruit thereof, of certain words said by the king in council. On reflection, however, they concluded that what the king had said was no more than he owed to his grandson, and to the empire which Mme. de Maintenon had acquired over him. They thought he was more led away than convinced, and that by holding firm they could still keep him balanced between his love for M. du Maine, his liking for Vendome, bastardy in general, and his principal valets, on the one hand, and his habit of deference to Mme. de Maintenon, and the amusement he took in the Diichcsse de Dourgogne, on the other. They therefore redoubled their efforts to spread about their letters and documents and all they could invent that was most atroc.iouH and insidious. Thrsy wen; too well guided to ])(! iniHtuk(!n. M. du Mainci and Hloin knew the king thoroughly; they beset him; ho liked it; taste and habit 72 MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON, [chap, rii were both gratified. The efforts of the Duchesse de Bour- gogne redoubled as the cabal redoubled its blows ; Mme. de Maintenon supported her, and the king became so restive that he scolded the princess harshly several times, and declared he could not stand her temper and bitterness. As time went on the public agitation became extreme, even to indecency. The minds of all were occupied in expecting a decisive battle ; every one was Anxiety at Court. j. o ^ ^ drawn to desire it by the straits to which things were reduced ; there seemed, in fact, nothing else to look to. The fortunate junction of the two armies [those of Berwick and VendOme], was at first regarded as a presage of success ; but delays had sharpened impatience. Every one was uneasy ; even the king asked news of the courtiers, and seemed unable to understand what delayed the couriers. The princes and seigneurs and the people about the Court who served them were with the army. All Versailles felt the danger of its nearest relations, of its friends, and the risk to the fortunes of the best-established families. The Forty-hour prayers were offered everywhere. The Duchesse de Bourgogne passed whole, nights in the chapel when she was thought to be in bed, and she wore out her ladies with her many vigils. Following her example, women whose husbands were with the army scarcely stirred from the churches. Cards, conversations even, ceased. Fear that was almost shameful was pamted on the faces and heard in talk. If a horse passed rapidly every one ran to know where it went. Chamillart's apartment was crowded with lacqueys even to the street, their masters wanting instant news of the arrival of a courier ; and this horror lasted nearly a month, until the end of all uncertainty about a battle was reached. Paris, being farther from the source of news, was still more troubled, and the provinces in proportion even 1708] MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. 73 more so. The king had written to all the bishops requesting them to offer public prayers in terms corresponding to the danger ; it is easy to imagine the impression this made and the general alarm. One evening, during the impatience for a courier who never came, I was talking after supper at Chamillart's with ibetwithcani Sve or six pcrsons, among them La Feuillade. about LiUe. p^j^ ^f ^y. ^^^ couviction, and provoked at the boasting of coming battles and of victories and suc- cour which I heard about me, I suddenly lost patience and proposed to Cani, whom I interrupted, to bet four pistoles that there would be no battle, that Lille would be taken, and not relieved. Great uproar among the few present at so strange a proposal, and many questions as to the reasons that led me to make it. I was careful not to tell my real reason; and answered merely that that was my opinion. Cani and Chamillart protested that beside the ardent desires of Vendome and the whole army, the most precise and reiterated orders had been sent to relieve Lille; that I was throwing my pistoles into the river; and they warned me that Cani was betting on a certainty. I told them, with the same coolness (which covered what was boiling within me), that I had no doubt of what they said, but all the same I did not change my opinion, but maintained it, in English fashion. I was exhorted, but held firm, and always in just those few words. At last they consented, making fim of mo, and Cani thanking me for the little present I was so kind as to make him. We drew out from our pockets, he and T, our lour ])i,sloles, and gave thciu to Chaniillait to hold. Never was man nion; astonished. Ah lie, went to lock up I he eiglit piHtolcH ho took mo with him to the other end ol" tlic rooiri. "In (Jod's name," he said, " do luo the kinchu'ss (o tell uKi on what you l)aH(', your conviction; for \ re[)eat, on 74 MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON, [chap, iil the word of a man of honour, that I have sent the most posi- tive orders, and there is no possible way in which they can be evaded." I got out of it by talking of the time already lost of which the enemy would surely have made the most, and the consequent impossibihty of executing his orders. I was careful, intimate as we were, not to say more to a tool of Vaudemont and his nieces, who was completely infatuated with Vendome ; a man of honour truly, but too incapable of opening his eyes to allow any hope of making him see a project they had sedulously hidden from him, but which, ^mkno^vn to himself, he had hitherto so usefully served. Nothing could have been more simple than this bet and the way in which it was made at a private house in which I spent most of my evenings. I did not even express myself in any way, except in this brief talk with Chamillart, on whose friendship and discretion I could always rely. Yet a very rapid experience, very unfortunate in its results, showed me that I had never done anything more impru- dent. The next day this bet was the news of the Court ; nothing else was talked of. No one can live at a Court with- out enemies. I ought not to have been a cause of envy to any one ; but the valuable friends I had made there made me regarded as being some-one and some-thing of importance for my age. The Lorrains could not forgive me for certain things which I have told in these ]\iemoirs, and others that were not worth writing about. M. du Maine, whose remark- able advances I had evaded and who could not be ignorant of what I thought about his rank, did not like me, nor, in con- sequence, did Mme. de Maintenon. As for the cabal itself, I had expressed myself too openly after the fight at Audenarde to be forgiven by them. They did not, therefore, allow my bet to pass. In short, the next day there was a frightful 1708] MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. 75 uproar. ]\Ialice went so far as to accuse me of being dis- loyal, discontented with the war, and of gloating over its ill-success. These remarks were carefully carried to the king and adroitly put into him ; the reputation of having a mind and an education, which had been found so conducive to my injury at the time of my choice for Eome, was again brought up and refreshed in his mind with such art that I was wholly lost in his good opinion for more than two months before I became aware of it, — in fact, without my really suspecting anything on his part for a much longer time. All that I could now do was to let this great racket go by, and hold my tongue so as not to give ground for worse. Chamillart, who had been sent by the king to the army, returned to Versailles during the king's supper on Tuesday, September 18. The king worked v/ith him after leaving the table till he went to bed, and was only a moment with the princesses. Chamillart gave him an account of all he had seen and of the confident hope of M. de Vendome to capture the waggon trains of the enemy, and so deprive them of subsistence, — in other words, compel them to abandon the siege. The king needed these intervals of consolation and hope. Master as he was of his words and of his face, he deeply felt the inability into which he was daily sinking more and more to resist his enemies. What I have related of Samuel Piornanl, to wlinin Ikj sliowed the gardens of Marly in co]]u.sif)n with I)csiri;uot.s to obtain an assistance he could not procnn; (;],s(!w]icrc, is a strong proof of this. On the other hand, he had periods of great fortitude, which edified IcMM tlinii thny surprised. At tiic time of the junction of the. Due (In Berwick with the, gnmd iinny ho noticed one evening in Mnie. do Miiintenon'H room the sadnoss and 76 MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON, [chap, iil anxiety of the Duchesse de Bourgogne. He seemed sur- prised and asked her what was the matter, saying she ought to be reassured by the satisfaction he felt at the junction of the armies. " And the princes, your grandsons ? " she said, quickly. " I am anxious about them," he repHed, " but I hope all will go well." " So am I," she replied, " and that is why I am sad and troubled." During all the terror and quivering of the Court while waiting, as I have related, for a battle, the king distressed every one by going out from Versailles every day either to hunt or drive, for no one could know until after his return the news that arrived in his absence. Whether this was done because he did not wish by changing his habits to show his uneasiness, or whether he did not feel sufficient uneasiness to yield liis amuse- ments, I cannot say. As for Monseigneur he seemed wholly exempt from all anxiety, even on the day when Chamillart returned from Indifference of Flandcrs. Monsclgneur went off to diae at Monseigneur. Mcudou ou that day, saying it would be time enough to hear the news when he returned. He did this more than once while the anxious waiting for the battle in Flanders and the relief of Lille kept every one glued to the windows to watch for the couriers. He was present when Chamillart brought the king the news of the investiture of that place, and while he read the letter. Half way through, Monseigneur went away. The king called him back to hear the rest. He returned and listened. The reading over, he went off without saying a word. The creduhty of Mon- seigneur for those who had captured him went to a point that is incredible to any one who did not see it, as I shall have occasion to show later. He swallowed against his own son all the poison they gave him ; he let it be seen that he was primed with it ; and he never got over it for the rest of 1708] MEMOIRS OF THE DUC DE SAINT-SIMON. 77 his life. His tastes were not for him nor for those who had had charge of his education. So precise a piety con- strained and annoyed him ; his heart was for the King of Spain, and he never behed it. He was fond also of the Due de Berry, who enlivened him by his taste for liberty and pleasure. The cabal took advantage of this. It had too strong an interest in depriving the Due de Bourgogne of the esteem, affection, and confidence of Monseigneur not to care- fully promote by every possible means the estrangement it was producing. I had intended to go to La Fert^ directly after the return from Fontainebleau, to enjoy what remained of the summer season. Several influential friends desired to prevent this, on account of the great anxiety relating to Flanders. I was fully convinced that nothing would take place, and that Lille would not be reheved. Moreover, I began to feel I could no longer bear the audacity and triumph of the cabal against the Due de Bourgogne ; and I was longing to be at a distance from the Court, when the Due de BeauvilUers, after exhaust- ing his reasons for detaining me, suddenly asked me if I would not at least for love of the Duo de Bourgogne make an effort to stay some days longer at Court. That disarmed my impatience. I promised to stay until he himself should set me free, but I begged him not to try too far the little self- control I had among these criminal schemes which nothing could successfully oppose. He promised ; and, moreover, he sent word to the Due de Bourgogne of tlie effort I had made over myself out of regard for him. This delay did me no good, nor did it serve in any way those who wished it. I was odious to the whole cabal. It had muzzled even those who were most convinced of its crimes. I dare to say hero that I was perhaps the only man in whom enough courage re- mained not to keep the truth under lork and key, and to 78 MEMOIES OF THE DTJC DE SAINT-SIMON, [chap. hi. give counsel. The latter they feared ; the former they hated, and it was all the more odious to them because they had strangled it. Not long after I finally reached La Fert^, I received a letter from the Bishop of Chartres, dated from Saint-Cyr, I am warned by "^^^lich wamed me that the worst possible the Bishop of offices had been done me with the king and Chartres of in- ^ -mt jury done me Mme. de Mamteuon, and had taken root. I with the king. -wrote to him at once by an express, asking for more information on so vague a statement, and also giving him grounds on which to defend me about the tales against me for my bet as to Lille, until I knew more and could ward off the blows with greater certainty. I was not surprised, but rather embarrassed by the limited information he had given me, for when my express reached Saint-Cyr the bishop had already returned to Chartres, and would not after that tell me more. By this affair I was confused and troubled for more than a year ; and the way in which I finally got out of it will be found in its proper place. I did not stay long at La Fertd, for I wanted to be at Court on the return of the Due d'Orldans, and especially on that of the Due de Bourgogne. Mme. la Duchesse de Bourgogne was in sreat agitation as to the reception her husband would receive, and very Return of the dcsirous to havc tiuic to talk with him and princes to Court. ^^^^ j^- ^^ ^f ^.i^^ g^^^g ^f ^j^^g^ ^gf^^.^ ^ie COuld see the king or any one else. The young prince arrived Mon- day, December the 11th, soon after seven in the evening, and just as Monseigneur had gone to the comedy, where the Duchesse de Bourgogne would not go, in order to await her husband. I do not know why he entered by the Cour des Princes instead of the grand courtyard. I was at that mo- ment in the Comtesse de Eoucy's apartment, the windows 1708] MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. 79 of which overlooked the Cour. I went out directly, and on reaching the head of the grand staircase at the end of the gallery, I saw the prince coming up between the Dues de Beauvilliers and de La Eocheguyon, who had met him as he left his carriage. He looked well and was gay and smiling, bowing right and left. I made my bow beside the stairs. He did me the honour to embrace me, but in a way that showed he was better informed as to what was happening than attentive to what he owed to his dignity, and he spoke to me alone for quite a long distance, during which he slipped into my ear a few words, telling me he was not ignorant how I had talked and behaved on his account. He was met by a group of courtiers, at the head of whom was the Due de La Rochefoucauld ; accompanied by them he passed through the great guard-room, and, instead of entering Mme. de Main- tenon's apartment by the antechamber and the back door, which was much the shortest way, he went along the land- ing of the grand staircase, and entered her apartment by the great door. It was the day on which the king ordinarily worked with Pontchartrain. The latter was there alone with the king and Mme. de Maintenon, and he told me of this curious reception that same evening, for he took great note of it and was its only witness. I say only witness, for the Duchesse de Bourgogne went and came. But to fully under- stand the scene a moment of dull explanation is necessary. The apartment of Mme. de Maintenon was on the same floor and directly opposite the king's guard-room. The antecliarnbcr was really a long passage leading into another antechamber of the s;uiio form. Between the door which led into Mme. de Mainlcuion's room from this second ante- chamber and tlio chimney stood the king's arm-chair, its back against the wall, with a tabid Ixifore it, at th(^ side of which was a folding stool for whichever minister was 80 MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON, [chap. hi. working with him. On the other side of the chimney was a niche, draped in red damask, and an arm-chair in which sat Mme. de Maintenon with a table before her. Farther on, was her bed in a recess. Opposite to the foot of the bed were five steps up, and a door leading into a very large cabinet, which opened into the first antechamber of the Due de Bourgogne's apartments. Every evening the Duchesse de Bourgogiie played cards in this large cabinet with such of her ladies as had the entree (who were but few), and from there she could enter as often as she liked the chamber of Mme. de Maintenon, where the latter always sat with the king, the fireplace between them. Monseigneur, after the comedy, usually came up to the large cabinet, which Mme. de Maintenon seldom entered, and the king never. Before the king's supper Mme. de Maintenon's servants brought in her soup and cover and something besides. She ate the supper, her women and one footman serving her, — the king being always present, and nearly always working with a minister. The supper over, and it was short, the table was carried away ; Mme. de Maintenon's women remained and immediately un- dressed her and put her to bed. When the king was informed that his supper was ready, he went to say a word to Mme. de Maintenon, and then rang a bell which sounded in the great cabinet; whereupon Monseigneur, if he was there, the Due and Duchesse de Bourgogne, the Due de Berry, and the ladies of the Duchesse de Bourgogne en- tered, single file, the chamber of Mme. de Maintenon, merely to pass through it and precede the king, who then went to supper, at which the Duchesse de Bourgogne and her ladies sat down. As soon as the sounds of the arrival of the young prince were heard in Mme. de Maintenon's chamber, the king 1708] MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. 81 was so disturbed that he changed colour several times. The Duchesse de Bourgogne seemed to tremble, and liitted about from the bedroom to the antechamber Reception of ti-.e Due de or the cabinet, under pretence of watching for the prince, but really to hide her agitation. Presently the doors opened ; the young prince advanced to the king, who, master of himself if any man ever was, instantly lost all embarrassment, made a step or two towards his grandson, embraced him with sufficient appearance of tenderness, spoke of his journey, and then, pointing to the princess, added, laughing: "Have you nothing to say to her ? " The prince then turned for an instant towards his wife and bowed respectfully, but did not stir from his place. He next bowed to Mme. de Main- tenon, who received him very well. Talk of the journey, the roads, the stopping-places lasted, every one standing up, about half a quarter of an hour; then the king said it was not fair to keep him any longer from the pleasure of being alone with the Duchesse de Bourgogne, and sent him away ; adding that they should have leisure to see each other again. The prince made his reverence to the king, then to Mme. de Maintenon, and passed up the five steps into the great cal)inet, where he embraced the duchess, saluted her ladies, that is to say, kissed them, remained a few moments, and then entered his own apartment, wliere he shut himself up alone with the Duchesse de Bourgogne. Their Ute-d,-Ute lasted two hours ; Mme. la duchesse then returned to the grand cabinet. Monseiguo.ur came, as usual, after the comedy. The Duchesse de Bourgogne, troubled that her husband did not hasten to salute Monseigneur, W(iiit hf'-r:-;(;ir to liiid iiiiii, ;iri(l rcliiriKid saying that he was powdering; Init oliscrviiig that MonsiMgiKUir was not ploasod with this lack of cagcriicsH, she sent to hurry hiiu. The VOL. II. — 82 MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON, [chap. in. Mardcliale d'E.'strees, a silly, giddy creature, pos,sessed to say everything that came into her head, attacked Monsei- gneur for waiting so tranquilly to see his son, instead of goino- himself to embrace him. Monseisrneur answered curtly that it was not for him to seek the Due de Bourgogne, but for the Due de Bourgogne to come to his father. At last he came. The reception was fairly good, but by no means hke that of the king. At tliis moment the king rang, and they all passed to supper. Soon after, the Due de Berry arrived, and came at once to salute the king at table. At sight of him all hearts seemed joyful. The king embraced him tenderly. ]\Ionseigneur looked at him in the same manner, but dared not embrace him in the king's presence. Every one present seemed to court him. He remained standmg beside the kmg during the rest of the supper ; the talk was only of post-horses, roads, and trifles of that kind. The king also spoke while at table to the Due de Bourgogne; but with quite a different air and manner from that he used to the Due de Berry. M. de Vendome arrived at Yersnilles on the morning of Saturday, December 16, and made his reverence to the king as he left his cabinet to go to his private Return and re- _ _ o j. ceptionofthe dinner. The king embraced him with a sort of en ome. g^j.|jQ^j, which made a triumph for the cabal. Vendome kept the field throughout the whole dinner, though the talk was only of trifles. The king told him that he would see him the next day at Mme. de Maintenon's. This delay, which was a new thing to Vendome, was not a good omen for him. He then went to pay his respects to the Due de Bourgogne, who received him well in spite of what had passed. After that he went to Monseigneur, in the Princesse de Conti's apartment, on his return from hunting ; there indeed he felt himself strong. His reception was of 1708] MEMOIRS OF THE DUG DE SAINT-SIMON. 83 the best, and much talk went on about nothing ; he wished to profit by the occasion to induce Monseigneur to visit him at Anet. His suq^rise and that of the company was great at the ambiguous reply made by Monseigneur, who, however, let it be understood, and rather dryly, that he should not go. Vendome seemed embarrassed, and shortened his visit. The next day he was scarcely an hour with the king and Mme. de Maintenon. His Abbd Alberoni appeared' at the king's mass as a courtier with unparalleled effrontery. After a few days they departed for Anet ; but before they went VendOme had seen signs of a downfall, which led him to in- vite everybody to visit him, — him, who in other years made it the greatest favour to receive people, and then only those who were grand and distinguished, not deigning to notice any others. He now felt his own diminution in that of his company. Some excused themselves ; others failed to keep the engagement which they had made with him. The king had despatched a letter to the Mardchal de Boufflers at Douai, urging his return. He arrived Sunday, Triumphant re- Dccembcr 1 7, the day after the Due de Ven- Marlchp°ide^ domc, that counterfeit hero of favour and Boufflers. cabals ; the other a hero in spite of himself, by the voice of all Frenchmen and their enemies. No man ever merited a triumph more, or evaded with greater modesty, althougli tlie simplest, whatever scorned to claim it. He sent word of his arrival In tli(^ king at once, and awaited the moment to pay his respects. Tlie king, who liad just finished his interview with tlu; Due de Vendnnie, sent for him instantly. As hi; opened th(! door tlic king went up to him and (unhnuuMi liiiii tiglitly I, wo or three times, p[avo him the. most flattering tliiinl