MEMOIRS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 DUKE OF SAINT-SIMON
 
 Eoftfon 
 
 /Ifcemoirs 
 
 OF THE 
 
 HHihe of Saint=Simon 
 
 ON THE 
 
 REIGN OF LOUIS XIV. AND 
 THE REGENCY 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH BY 
 
 BAYLE ST. JOHN 
 
 WITH A PREFACE KY 
 
 JAMES BRECK PERKINS 
 
 VOLUME II. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 James pott & Company 
 
 1901
 
 Copyrighted, 1901, 
 
 ~ h 
 
 JAMES POTT 6? COMPANY
 
 CONTEXTS OF VOL. II. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 An Honest Courtier Robbery of Courtin and Fieubet 
 An Important Affair My Interview with the King 
 His Jealousy of His Authority Madame La Queue, 
 the King's Daughter Battle of Blenheim or Hochstedt 
 Our Defeat Effect of the News on the King Public 
 Grief and Public Rejoicings Death of my Friend 
 Montfort 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Naval Battle of Malaga Danger of Gibraltar Duke of 
 Mantua in Search of a Wife Duchesse de Lesdiguieres 
 Strange Intrigues Mademoiselle d'Elbceuf Carries 
 off the Prize A Curious Marriage Its Result His- 
 tory of a Conversion to Catholicism Attempted Assas- 
 sination Singular Seclusion ...... 
 
 18 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Fascination of the Duchesse de Bourgogne Fortunes of 
 Nangis He is Loved by the Duchesse and Her Dame 
 d'Atours Discretion of the Court Maulevrier His 
 Courtship of the Duchess Singular Trick Its Strange 
 Success Mad Conduct of Maulevrier He is Sent to 
 Spain His Adventures There His Return and Tragi- 
 cal Catastrophe . . . . . . . .31
 
 vi Contents 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Death of M. de Duras Selfishness of the King Anecdote 
 of Puysieux Character of Pontchartrain Why he 
 Ruined the French Fleet Madame des Ursins at Last 
 Resolves to Return to Spain Favours Heaped upon 
 Her M. de Lauzun at the Army His bon mot Con- 
 duct of M. de Vendome Disgrace and Character of 
 the Grand Prieur 45 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A Hunting Adventure Story and Catastrophe of Fargues 
 Death and Character of Ninon de 1'Enclos Odd Ad- 
 venture of Courtenvaux Spies at Court New Enlist- 
 ment Wretched State of the Country Balls at Marly 57 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Arrival of Vendome at Court Character of that Disgust- 
 ing Personage Rise of Cardinal Alberoni Vendome' s 
 Reception at Marly His Unheard-of Triumph His 
 High Flight Returns to Italy Battle of Calcinate 
 Condition of the Army Pique of the Marechal de 
 Villeroy Battle of Ramillies Its Consequences . . 68 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Abandonment of the Siege of Barcelona Affairs of Italy 
 La Feuillade Disastrous Rivalries Conduct of M. 
 d'Orleans The Siege of Turin Battle Victory of 
 Prince Eugene Insubordination in the Army Retreat 
 M. d'Orleans Returns to Court Disgrace of La 
 Feuillade 82 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Measures of Economy Financial Embarrassments The 
 King and Chamillart Tax on Baptisms and Marriages
 
 Contents vii 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Vauban's Patriotism Its Punishment My Action 
 with M. cle Brissac I Appeal to the King The Result 
 I Gain my Action 94 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 My Appointment as Ambassador to Rome How it Fell 
 Through Anecdotes of the Bishop of Orleans A 
 Droll Song A Saint in Spite of Himself Fashionable 
 Crimes A Forged Genealogy Abduction of Beringhen 
 The Parvulos of Meudon and Mademoiselle Choin . 106 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Death and Last Days of Madame de Montespan Selfish- 
 ness of the King Death and Character of Madame de 
 Nemours Neufchatel and Prussia Campaign of Vil- 
 lars Naval Successes Inundations of the Loire 
 Siege of Toulon A Quarrel about News Quixotic 
 Despatches of Tesse 124 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Precedence at the Communion Table The King Offended 
 with Madame de Torcy The King's Religion Athe- 
 ists and Jansenists Project against Scotland Prepa- 
 rations Failure The Chevalier de St. George His 
 Return to Court 141 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Death and Character of Brissac Brissac and the Court 
 Ladies The Duchesse de Bourgogne Scene at the 
 Carp Basin King's Selfishness The King Cuts Sam- 
 uel Bernard's Purse A Vain Capitalist Story of 
 Leon and Florence the Actress His Loves with Made- 
 moiselle de Roquelaure Run-away Marriage Anger 
 of Madame de Roquelaure A Furious Mother Opin-
 
 viii Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 ions of the Court A Mistake Interference of the 
 King Fate of the Couple 156 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The Due d'Orleans in Spain Offends Madame des Ursins 
 and Madame de Maintenon Laziness of M. de Ven- 
 dome in Flanders Battle of Oudenarde Defeat and 
 Disasters Difference of M. de Vendome and the Due 
 de Bourgogne 171 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Conflicting Reports Attacks on the Due de Bourgogne 
 The Duchesse de Bourgogne Acts against Vendome 
 Weakness of the Duke Cunning of Vendome The 
 Siege of Lille Anxiety for a Battle Its Delay Con- 
 duct of the King and Monseigneur A Picture of 
 Royal Family Feeling Conduct of the Marshal de 
 Boufflers 181 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Equivocal Position of the Due de Bourgogne His Weak 
 Conduct Concealment of a Battle from the King 
 Return of the Due de Bourgogne to Court Incidents 
 of His Reception Monseigneur Reception of the 
 Due de Berry Behaviour of the Due de Bourgogne 
 Anecdotes of Gamaches Return of Vendome to Court 
 His Star Begins to Wane Contrast of Boufflers and 
 Vendome Chamillart's Project for Retaking Lille 
 How It Was Defeated by Madame de Maintenon . 194 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Tremendous Cold in France Winters of 1708-1709 
 Financiers and the Famine Interference of the Par- 
 liaments of Paris and Dijon Dreadful Oppression
 
 Contents ix 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Misery of the People New Taxes Forced Labour 
 General Ruin Increased Misfortunes Threatened 
 Regicide Procession of Saint Genevieve Offerings of 
 Plate to the King Discontent of the People A Bread 
 Riot, How Appeased 208 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 M. de Vendome Out of Favour -Death and Character of 
 the Prince de Conti Fall of Vendome Puysegur's In- 
 terview with the King Madame de Bourgogne against 
 Vendome Her Decided Conduct Vendome Excluded 
 from Marly He Clings to Meudon From Which He 
 is also Expelled His Final Disgrace and Abandon- 
 ment Triumph of Madame de Maintenon . . . 224 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Death of Pere La Chaise His Infirmities in Old Age 
 Partiality of the King Character of Pere La Chaise 
 The Jesuits Choice of a New Confessor Fagon's 
 Opinion Destruction of Port Royal Jansenists and 
 Molinists Pascal Violent Oppression of the Inhabi- 
 tants of Port Royal 237 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Death of D'Avaux A Quarrel about a Window Lou- 
 vois and the King Anecdote of Boisseuil Madame 
 de Maintenon and M. de Beauvilliers Harcourt Pro- 
 posed for the Council His Disappointment Death of 
 of M. le Prince His Character Treatment of His 
 Wife His Love Adventures His Madness A Con- 
 fessor Brought Nobody Regrets Him .... 246 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Progress of the War Simplicity of Chamillart The Im- 
 perialists and the Pope Spanish Affairs Due d'Or-
 
 Contents 
 
 leans and Madame des Ursins Arrest of Flotte in 
 Spain Discovery of the Intrigues of the Due d'Orleans 
 Cabal against Him His Disgrace and Its Conse- 
 quences 261 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 Danger of Chamillart Witticism of D'Harcourt Faults 
 of Chamillart Court Intrigues against Him Behav- 
 iour of the Courtiers Influence of Madame de Main- 
 tenon Dignified Fall of Chamillart He is Succeeded 
 by Voysin First Experience of the New Minister 
 The Campaign in Flanders Battle of Malplaquet . 270 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Disgrace of the Due d'Orleans I Endeavour to Separate 
 Him from Madame d'Argenton Extraordinary Re- 
 ports My Various Colloquies with Him The Separa- 
 tion Conduct of Madame d'Argenton Death and 
 Character of M. le Due The After-suppers of the 
 King 285 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Proposed Marriage of Mademoiselle My Intrigues to 
 Bring It About The Duchesse de Bourgogne and 
 Other Allies The Attack Begun Progress of the In- 
 trigue Economy at Marly The Marriage Agreed 
 Upon Scene at Saint-Cloud Horrible Reports The 
 Marriage Madame de Saint-Simon Strange Charac- 
 ter of the Duchesse de Berry 297 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Birth of Louis XV. The Marechale de la Meilleraye 
 Saint-Ruth's Cudgel The Cardinal de Bouillon's De- 
 sertion from France Anecdotes of His Audacity. . 311
 
 Contents xi 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Imprudence of Villars The Danger of Truthfulness 
 Military Mistakes The Fortunes of Berwick The Son 
 of James Berwick's Report on the Army Imprudent 
 Saying of Villars " The Good Little Fellow " in a 
 Scrape What Happens to Him 319 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Duchesse de Berry Drunk Operations in Spain Ven- 
 dome Demanded by Spain His Affront by the Du- 
 chesse de Bourgogne His Arrival Staremberg and 
 Stanhope The Flag of Spain Leaves Madrid Entry 
 of the Archduke Enthusiasm of the Spaniards The 
 King Returns Strategy of Staremberg Affair of 
 Brighuega Battle of Villaviciosa Its Consequences 
 to Vendome and to Spain 329 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 State of the Country New Taxes The King's Conscience 
 Troubled Decision of the Sorbonne Debate in the 
 Council Effect of the Royal Tithe Tax on Agioteurs 
 Merriment at Court Death of a Son of Marechal 
 Boufflers The Jesuits 344 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 My Interview with Du Mont A Mysterious Communica- 
 tion Anger of Monseigneur against Me Household 
 of the Duchesse de Berry Monseigneur Taken 111 of 
 the Small-Pox Effect of the News The King Goes 
 to Meudon The Danger Diminishes Aladame de 
 Maintenon at Meudon The Court at Versailles 
 Hopes and Fears The Danger Returns Death of 
 Monseigneur Conduct of the King .... 354
 
 xii Contents 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Rumour Reaches Versailles Aspect of the Court 
 Various Forms of Grief The Due d'Orleans The 
 News Confirmed at Versailles Behaviour of the Cour- 
 tiers The Due and Duchesse de Berry The Due and 
 Duchesse de Bourgogne Madame A Swiss Asleep 
 Picture of a Court The Heir-Apparent's Night The 
 King Returns to Marly Character of Monseigneur 
 Effect of His Death 369
 
 MEMOIRS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 DUKE OF SAINT-SIMON 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 An Honest Courtier Robbery of Courtin and Fieubet An 
 Important Affair My Interview with the King His Jeal- 
 ousy of His Authority Madame La Queue, the King's 
 Daughter Battle of Blenheim or Hochstedt Our Defeat 
 Effect of the News on the King Public Grief and Public 
 Rejoicings Death of my Friend Montfort. 
 
 IN relating what happened to Madame des Ursins up 
 her return to Spain, I have carried the narrative 
 into the year 1705. It is not necessary to retrace our 
 steps. Towards the end of 1703 Courtin died. He 
 had early shone at the Council, and had been made 
 Intendant of Picardy. M. cle Chaulnes, whose estates 
 were there, begged him to tax them as lightly as pos- 
 sible. Courtin, who was a very intimate friend of M. 
 de Chaulnes, complied with his request; but the next 
 year, in going over his accounts, he found that to do 
 a good turn to M. de Chaulnes he had done an ill turn 
 to many others that is to say, he had relieved M. de 
 VOL. II. i i
 
 2 Memoirs of 
 
 Chaulnes at the expense of other parishes, which he 
 had overcharged. The trouble this caused him made 
 him search deeply into the matter, and he found that 
 the wrong he had done amounted to forty thousand 
 francs. Without a second thought he paid back this 
 money, and asked to be recalled. As he was much es- 
 teemed, his request was not at once complied with, 
 but he represented so well that he could not pass his 
 life doing wrong, and unable to serve his friends, that 
 at last what he asked was granted. He afterwards had 
 several embassies, went to England as ambassador, and 
 was very successful in that capacity. I cannot quit 
 Courtin without relating an adventure he had one day 
 with Fieubet, a Councillor of State like himself. As 
 they were going to Saint Germain they were stopped by 
 several men and robbed ; robbery was common in those 
 days, and Fieubet lost all he had in his pockets. When 
 the thieves had left them, and while Fieubet was com- 
 plaining of his misfortune, Courtin began to applaud 
 himself for having saved his watch and fifty pistoles 
 that he had time to slip into his trowsers. Immedi- 
 ately on hearing this, Fieubet put his head out of the 
 coach window, and called back the thieves, who came 
 sure enough to see what he wanted. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said he, " you appear to be honest 
 folks in distress; it is not reasonable that you should 
 be the dupes of this gentleman, who has swindled you 
 out of fifty pistoles and his watch." And then turning 
 to Courtin, he smilingly said: " You told me so your- 
 self, monsieur; so give the things up like a man, with- 
 out being searched." 
 
 The astonishment and indignation of Courtin were
 
 Saint-Simon 3 
 
 such that he allowed money and watch to be taken 
 from him without uttering a single word; but when the 
 thieves were gone away, he would have strangled Fieu- 
 bet had not this latter been the stronger of the two. 
 Fieubet only laughed at him ; and upon arriving at Saint 
 Germain told the adventure to everybody he met. 
 Their friends had all the trouble in the world to recon- 
 cile them. 
 
 The year finished with an affair in which I was not 
 a little interested. During the year there were several 
 grand fetes, at w r hich the King went to High Mass and 
 vespers. On these occasions a lady of the Court, named 
 by the Queen, or when there was none, by the Dau- 
 phiness, made a collection for the poor. The house of 
 Lorraine, always anxious to increase its importance, 
 shirked impudently this duty, in order thereby to give 
 itself a new 7 distinction, and assimilate its rank to that 
 of the Princes of the blood. It was a long time before 
 this was perceived. At last the Duchesse de Noailles, 
 the Duchesse de Guiche, her daughter, the Marechal 
 de Boufflers, and others, took notice of it; and I was 
 soon after informed of it. I determined that the mat- 
 ter should be arranged, and that justice should be done. 
 
 The Duchesse de Lude was first spoken to on the 
 subject; she, weak and timid, did not dare to do any- 
 thing; but at last was induced to speak to Madame la 
 Duchesse de Bourgogne, who, wishing to judge for her- 
 self as to the truth of the matter, ordered Madame de 
 Montbazon to make the collection for the poor at the 
 next fete that took place. Although very well, Ma- 
 dame de Montbazon pretended to be ill, stopped in bed 
 half a day, and excused herself on this ground from
 
 4 Memoirs of 
 
 performing the duty. Madame de Bourgogne was an- 
 noyed, but she did not dare to push matters farther; 
 and, in consequence of this refusal, none of the 
 Duchesses would make the collection. Other ladies of 
 quality soon perceived this, and they also refused to 
 serve; so that the collection fell into all sorts of hands, 
 and sometimes was not made at all. Matters went on 
 so far, indeed, that the King at last grew angry, and 
 threatened to make Madame de Bourgogne herself take 
 this office. But refusals still followed upon refusals, 
 and the bomb thus at length was ready to burst! 
 
 The King, who at last ordered the daughter of M. le 
 Grand to take the plate on New Year's Day, 1704, had, 
 it seems, got scent of the part I was taking in this mat- 
 ter, and expressed himself to Madame de Maintenon, 
 as I learnt, as very discontented with me and one or 
 two other Dukes. He said that the Dukes were much 
 less obedient to him than the Princes; and that although 
 many Duchesses had refused to make the collection, 
 the moment he had proposed that the daughter of M. 
 le Grand should take it, M. le Grand consented. On 
 the next day, early in the morning, I saw Chamillart, 
 who related to me that on the previous evening, before 
 he had had time to open his business, the King had 
 burst out in anger against me, saying it was very 
 strange, but that since I had quitted the army I did 
 nothing but meddle in matters of rank and bring ac- 
 tions against everybody; finishing, by declaring that 
 if he acted well he should send me so far away that I 
 should be unable to importune him any more. Cha- 
 millart added, that he had done all in his power to ap- 
 pease the King, but with little effect.
 
 Saint-Simon 5 
 
 After consulting with my friends, I determined to go 
 up to the King and boldly ask to speak to him in his 
 cabinet, believing that to be the wisest course I could 
 pursue. He was not yet so reconciled to me as he af- 
 terwards became, and, in fact, was sorely out of hu- 
 mour with me. This step did not seem, therefore, al- 
 together unattended with danger; but, as I have said, 
 I resolved to take it. As he passed, therefore, from his 
 dinner that same day, I asked permission to follow him 
 into his cabinet. Without replying to me, he made a 
 sign that I might enter, and went into the embrasure 
 of the window. 
 
 When we were quite alone I explained, at consider- 
 able length, my reasons for acting in this matter, de- 
 claring that it was from no disrespect to his Majesty 
 that I had requested Madame de Saint-Simon and the 
 other Duchesses to refuse to collect for the poor, but 
 simply to bring those to account who had claimed 
 without reason to be exempt from this duty. I added, 
 keeping my eyes fixed upon the King all the time, that 
 I begged him to believe that none of his subjects were 
 more submissive to his will or more willing to acknowl- 
 edge the supremacy of his authority in all things than 
 the Dukes. Until this his tone and manner had been 
 very severe; but now they both softened, and he said, 
 with much goodness and familiarity, that " that was 
 how it was proper to speak and think," and other re- 
 marks equally gracious. I took then the opportunity 
 of expressing the sorrow I felt at seeing, that while my 
 sole endeavour was to please him, my enemies did all 
 they could to blacken me in his eyes, indicating that I 
 suspected M. le Grand, who had never pardoned me for
 
 6 Memoirs of 
 
 the part I took in the affair of the Princcsse d'Harcotirt, 
 was one of the number. After I had finished the King 
 remained still a moment, as if ready to hear if I had 
 anything more to say, and then quitted me with a bow, 
 slight but very gracious, saying it was well, and that 
 he was pleased with me. 
 
 I learnt afterwards that he said the same thing of me 
 in the evening to Chamillart, but, nevertheless, that he 
 did not seem at all shaken in his prejudice in favour of 
 M. le Grand. The King was in fact very easy to preju- 
 dice, difficult to lead back, and most unwilling to seek 
 enlightenment, or to listen to any explanations, if au- 
 thority was in the slightest degree at stake. Whoever 
 had the address to make a question take this shape, 
 might be assured that the King would throw aside all 
 consideration of justice, right, and reason, and dismiss 
 all evidence. It was by playing on this chord that his 
 ministers knew how to manage him with so much art, 
 and to make themselves despotic masters, causing him 
 to believe all they wished, while at the same time they 
 rendered him inaccessible to explanation, and to those 
 who might have explained. 
 
 I have, perhaps, too much expanded an affair which 
 might have been more compressed. But in addition 
 to the fact that I was mixed up in it, it is by these 
 little private details, as it seems to me, that the charac- 
 ters of the Court and King are best made known. 
 
 In the early part of the next year, 1704, the King 
 made La Queue, who was a captain of cavalry, camp- 
 master. This La Queue was seigneur of the place of 
 which he bore the name, distant six leagues from Ver- 
 sailles, and as much from Dreux. He had married a
 
 Saint-Simon 7 
 
 girl that the King had had by a gardener's wife. Bon- 
 tems, the confidential valet of the King, had brought 
 about the marriage without declaring the names of the 
 father or the mother of the girl; but La Queue knew 
 it, and promised himself a fortune. The girl herself 
 was tall and strongly resembled the King. Unfortu- 
 nately for her, she knew the secret of her birth, and 
 much envied her three sisters recognised, and so 
 grandly married. She lived on very good terms with 
 her husband always, however, in the greatest privacy 
 and had several children by him. La Queue him- 
 self, although by this marriage son-in-law of the King, 
 seldom appeared at the Court, and, when there, was 
 on the same footing as the simplest soldier. Bontems 
 did not fail from time to time to give him money. The 
 wife of La Queue lived very mclancholily for twenty 
 years in her village, never left it, and scarcely ever went 
 abroad for fear of betraying herself. 
 
 On Wednesday, the 25th of June, Monseigneur le 
 Due de Bourgogne had a son born to him. This event 
 caused great joy to the King and the Court. The town 
 shared their delight, and carried their enthusiasm al- 
 most to madness, by the excess of their demonstration 
 and their fetes. The King gave a fete at Marly, and 
 made the most magnificent presents to Madame la Du- 
 chesse de Bourgogne when she left her bed. But we 
 soon had reason to repent of so much joy, for the child 
 died in less than a year and of so much money un- 
 wisely spent in fetes when it was wanted for more press- 
 ing purposes. Even while these rejoicings were being 
 celebrated, news reached us which spread consterna- 
 tion in every family, and cast a gloom over the whole 
 citv.
 
 8 Memoirs of 
 
 I have already said that a grand alliance, with the 
 Emperor at its head, had been formed against France, 
 and that our troops were opposing the allies in various 
 parts of Europe. The Elector of Bavaria had joined 
 his forces to ours, and had already done us some ser- 
 vice. On the I2th of August he led his men into the 
 plain of Hochstedt, where, during the previous year, 
 he had gained a victory over the Imperialists. In this 
 plain he was joined by our troops, who took up posi- 
 tions right and left of him, under the command of Tal- 
 lard and Marsin. The Elector himself had command 
 of all. Soon after their arrival at Hochstedt, they re- 
 ceived intelligence that Prince Eugene, with the Im- 
 perialist forces, and the Duke of Marlborough with the 
 English were coming to meet them. Our generals 
 had, however, all the day before them to choose their 
 ground, and to make their dispositions. It would have 
 been difficult to succeed worse, both with the one and 
 the other. A brook, by no means of a miry kind, ran 
 parallel to our army; and in front of it a spring, which 
 formed a long and large quagmire, nearly separated the 
 two lines of Marshal Tallard. It was a strange situa- 
 tion for a general to take up, who is master of a vast 
 plain; and it became, as will be seen, a very sad one. 
 At his extreme right was the large village of Blenheim, 
 in which, by a blindness without example, he had placed 
 twenty-six battalions of infantry, six regiments of dra- 
 goons, and a brigade of cavalry. It was an entire army 
 merely for the purpose of holding this village, and sup- 
 porting his right, and of course he had all these troops 
 the less to aid him in the battle which took place. The 
 first battle of Hochstedt afforded a lesson which ought
 
 Saint-Simon 9 
 
 to have been studied on this occasion. There were 
 many officers present, too, who had been at that battle; 
 but they were not consulted. One of two courses was 
 open, either to take up a position behind the brook, 
 and parallel to it, so as to dispute its passage with the 
 enemies, or to take advantage of the disorder they 
 would be thrown into in crossing it by attacking them 
 then. Both these plans were good; the second was the 
 better; but neither was adopted. What was done was, 
 to leave a large space between our troops and the 
 brook, that the enemy might pass at their ease, and be 
 overthrown afterwards, as was said. With such dis- 
 positions it is impossible to doubt but that our chiefs 
 were struck with blindness. The Danube flowed near 
 enough to Blenheim to be of sufficient support to our 
 right, better indeed than that village, which conse- 
 quently there was no necessity to hold. 
 
 The enemies arrived on the I3th of August at the 
 dawn, and at once took up their position on the banks 
 of the brook. Their surprise must have been great to 
 see our army so far off, drawn up in battle array. They 
 profited by the extent of ground left to them, crossed 
 the brook at nearly every point, formed themselves in 
 several lines on the side to which they crossed, and 
 then extended themselves at their ease, without receiv- 
 ing the slightest opposition. This is exact truth, but 
 without any appearance of being so; and posterity will 
 with difficulty believe it. It was nearly eight o'clock 
 before all these dispositions, which our troops saw made 
 without moving, were completed. Prince Eugene with 
 his army had the right; the Duke of Marlborough the 
 left. The latter thus opposed to the forces of Tallard, 
 and Prince Eugene to those of Marsin.
 
 io Memoirs of 
 
 The battle commenced; and in one part was so far 
 favourable to us that the attack of Prince Eugene was 
 repulsed by Marsin, who might have profited by this 
 circumstance but for the unfortunate position of our 
 right. Two things contributed to place us at a disad- 
 vantage. The second line, separated by the quagmire 
 I have alluded to from the first line, could not sustain 
 it properly; and in consequence of the long bend it was 
 necessary to make round this quagmire, neither line, 
 after receiving or making a charge, could retire quickly 
 to rally and return again to the attack. As for the in- 
 fantry, the twenty-six battalions shut up in Blenheim 
 left a great gap in it that could not fail to be felt. The 
 English, who soon perceived the advantage they might 
 obtain from this want of infantry, and from the diffi- 
 culty with which our cavalry of the right was rallied, 
 profited by these circumstances with the readiness of 
 people who have plenty of ground at their disposal. 
 They redoubled their charges, and to say all in one 
 word, they defeated at their first attack all this army, 
 notwithstanding the efforts of our general officers and 
 of several regiments to repel them. The army of the 
 Elector, entirely unsupported, and taken in flank by 
 the English, wavered in its turn. All the valour of the 
 Bavarians, all the prodigies of the Elector, were un- 
 able to remedy the effects of this wavering. Thus was 
 seen, at one and the same time, the army of Tallard 
 beaten and thrown into the utmost disorder; that of 
 the Elector sustaining itself with great intrepidity, but 
 already in retreat; and that of Marsin charging and 
 gaining ground upon Prince Eugene. It was not un- 
 til Marsin learnt of the defeat of Tallard and of the
 
 Saint-Simon 1 1 
 
 Elector, that he ceased to pursue his advantages, and 
 commenced his retreat. This retreat he was able to 
 make without being pursued. 
 
 In the meantime the troops in Blenheim had been 
 twice attacked, and had twice repulsed the enemy. 
 Tallard had given orders to these troops on no account 
 to leave their positions, nor to allow a single man even 
 to quit them. Now, seeing his army defeated and in 
 flight, he wished to countermand these orders. He 
 was riding in hot haste to Blenheim to do so, with only 
 two attendants, when all three were surrounded, recog- 
 nised, and taken prisoners. 
 
 These troops shut up in Blenheim had been left un- 
 der the command of Blansac, camp-marshal, and Cle- 
 rembault, lieutenant-general. During the battle this 
 latter was missed, and could nowhere be found. It was 
 known afterwards that, for fear of being killed, he had 
 endeavoured to escape across the Danube on horseback 
 attended by a single valet. The valet passed over the 
 river in safety, but his master went to the bottom. 
 Blansac, thus left alone in command, was much 
 troubled by the disorders he saw and heard, and by the 
 want which he felt of fresh orders. He sent a messen- 
 ger to Tallard for instructions how to act, but his mes- 
 senger was stopped on the road, and taken prisoner. 
 I only repeat what Blansac himself reported in his de- 
 fence, which was equally ill-received by the King and 
 the public, but which had no contradictors, for nobody 
 was witness of what took place at Blenheim except 
 those actually there, and they all, the principals at least, 
 agreed in their story. What some of the soldiers said 
 was not of a kind that could altogether be relied upon.
 
 12 Memoirs of 
 
 While Blansac was in this trouble, he saw Denon- 
 ville, one of our officers who had been taken prisoner, 
 coming towards the village, accompanied by an officer 
 who waved a handkerchief in the air and demanded a 
 parley. Denonville was a young man, very handsome 
 and well made, who being a great favourite with Mon- 
 seigneur le Due de Bourgogne had become presumptu- 
 ous and somewhat audacious. Instead of speaking in 
 private to Blansac and the other principal officers 
 since he had undertaken so strange a mission Denon- 
 ville, who had some intellect, plenty of fine talk, and a 
 mighty opinion of himself, set to work haranguing the 
 troops, trying to persuade them to surrender themselves 
 prisoners of war, so that they might preserve them- 
 selves for the service of the King. Blansac, who saw 
 the wavering this caused among the troops, sharply 
 told Denonville to hold his tongue, and began himself 
 to harangue the troops in a contrary spirit. But it was 
 too late. The mischief was done. Only one regiment, 
 that of Navarre, applauded him, all the rest maintained 
 a dull silence. I remind my readers that it is Blan- 
 sac's version of the story I am giving. 
 
 Soon after Denonville and his companion had re- 
 turned to the enemy, an English lord came, demanding 
 a parley with the commandant. He was admitted to 
 Blansac, to whom he said that the Duke of Marlbor- 
 ough had sent him to say that he had forty battalions 
 and sixty pieces of cannon at his disposal, with rein- 
 forcements to any extent at command; that he should 
 surround the village on all sides; that the army of Tal- 
 lard was in flight, and the remains of that of the Elector 
 in retreat; that Tallard and many general officers were
 
 Saint-Simon 13 
 
 prisoners; that Blansac could hope for no reinforce- 
 ments; and that, therefore, he had better at once make 
 an honourable capitulation, and surrender himself with 
 all his men prisoners of war, than attempt a struggle 
 in which he was sure to be worsted with great loss. 
 Blansac wanted to dismiss this messenger at once, but 
 the Englishman pressed him to advance a few steps 
 out of the village, and see with his own eyes the defeat 
 of the Electoral army, and the preparations that were 
 made on the other side to continue the battle. Blan- 
 sac accordingly, attended by one of his officers, fol- 
 lowed this lord, and was astounded to see with his own 
 eyes that all he had just heard was true. Returned into 
 Blenheim, Blansac assembled all his principal officers, 
 made them acquainted with the proposition that had 
 been made, and told them what he had himself seen. 
 Every one comprehended what a frightful shock it 
 would be for the country when it learnt that they had 
 surrendered themselves prisoners of war; but all things 
 well considered, it was thought best to accept these 
 terms, and so preserve to the King the twenty-six bat- 
 talions and the twelve squadrons of dragoons who were 
 there. This terrible capitulation was at once, therefore, 
 drawn up and signed by Blansac, the general officers, 
 and the heads of every corps except that of Navarre, 
 which was thus the sole one which refused. 
 
 The number of prisoners that fell to the enemy in 
 this battle was infinite. The Duke of Marlborough 
 took charge of the most distinguished, until he could 
 carry them away to England, to grace his triumph 
 there. He treated them all, even the humblest, with 
 the utmost attention, consideration, and politeness, and
 
 14 Memoirs of 
 
 with a modesty that did him even more honour than 
 his victory. Those that came under the charge of 
 Prince Louis of Baden were much less kindly treated. 
 
 The King received the cruel news of this battle on 
 the 2 ist of August, by a courier from the Marechal de 
 Villeroy. By this courier the King learnt that a battle 
 had taken place on the I3th; had lasted from eight 
 o'clock in the morning until evening; that the entire 
 army of Tallard was killed or taken prisoners; that it 
 was not known what had become of Tallard himself, 
 or whether the Elector and Marsin had been at the ac- 
 tion. The private letters that arrived were all opened 
 to see what news they contained, but no fresh informa- 
 tion could be got from them. For six days the King 
 remained in this uncertainty as to the real losses that 
 had been sustained. Everybody was afraid to write 
 bad news; all the letters which from time to time ar- 
 rived, gave, therefore, but an unsatisfactory account of 
 what had taken place. The King used every means in 
 his power to obtain some news. Every post that came 
 in was examined by him, but there was little found to 
 satisfy him. Neither the King nor anybody else could 
 understand, from what had reached them, how it was 
 that an entire army had been placed inside a village, 
 and had surrendered itself by a signed capitulation. It 
 puzzled every brain. At last the details, that had oozed 
 out little by little, augmented to a perfect stream, by 
 the arrival of one of our officers, who, taken prisoner, 
 had been allowed by the Duke of Marlborough to go to 
 Paris to relate to the King the misfortune that had 
 happened to him. 
 
 We were not accustomed to misfortunes. This one,
 
 Saint-Simon 15 
 
 very reasonably, was utterly unexpected. It seemed 
 in every way the result of bad generalship, of an unjusti- 
 fiable disposition of troops, and of a series of gross and 
 incredible errors. The commotion was general. There 
 was scarcely an illustrious family that had not had one 
 of its members killed, wounded, or taken prisoner. 
 Other families were in the same case. The public sor- 
 row and indignation burst out without restraint. No- 
 body who had taken part in this humiliation was spared ; 
 the generals and the private soldiers alike came in for 
 blame. Denonville was ignominiously broken for the 
 speech he had made at Blenheim. The generals, how- 
 ever, were entirely let off. All the punishment fell 
 upon certain regiments, which were broken, and upon 
 certain unimportant officers the guilty and innocent 
 mixed together. The outcrv was universal. The grief 
 of the King at this ignominy and this loss, at the mo- 
 ment when he imagined that the fate of the Emperor 
 was in his hands, may be imagined. At a time when 
 he might have counted upon striking a decisive blow, 
 he saw himself reduced to act simply on the defensive, 
 in order to preserve his troops; and had to repair the 
 loss of an entire army, killed or taken prisoners. The 
 sequel showed not less that the hand of God was 
 weighty upon us. All judgment was lost. We trem- 
 bled even in the midst of Alsace. 
 
 In the midst of all this public sorrow, the rejoicings 
 and the fetes for the birth of the Due de Bretagne, son 
 of Monseigneur le Due de Bourgogne, were not dis- 
 continued. The city gave a firework fete upon the 
 river, that Monseigneur, the Princes, his sons, and Ma- 
 dame la Duchesse de Bourgogne, with many ladies and
 
 1 6 Memoirs of 
 
 courtiers, came to see from the windows of the Louvre, 
 magnificent cheer and refreshments being provided for 
 them. This was a contrast which irritated the people, 
 who would not understand that it was meant for mag- 
 nanimity. A few days afterwards the King gave an 
 illumination and a fete at Marly, to which the Court of 
 Saint Germain \vas invited, and which was all in honour 
 of Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne. He thanked 
 the Prcvot dcs Marchands for the fireworks upon the 
 river, and said that Monseigneur and Madame had 
 found them very beautiful. 
 
 Shortly after this, I received a letter from one of my 
 friends, the Due de Montfort, who had always been in 
 the army of the Marechal de Villeroy. He sent word 
 to me, that upon his return he intended to break his 
 sword, and retire from the army. His letter was writ- 
 ten in such a despairing tone that, fearing lest with his 
 burning courage he might commit some martial folly, 
 I conjured him not to throw himself into danger for 
 the sake of being killed. It seemed that I had antici- 
 pated his intentions. A convoy of money was to be 
 sent to Landau. Twice he asked to be allowed to take 
 charge of this convoy, and twice he was told it was too 
 insignificant a charge for a camp-marshal to undertake. 
 The third time that he asked this favour, he obtained 
 it by pure importunity. He carried the money safely 
 into Landau, w-ithout meeting with any obstacle. On 
 his return he saw some hussars roving about. With- 
 out a moment's hesitation he resolved to give chase to 
 them. He was with difficulty restrained for some time, 
 and at last, breaking away, he set off to attack them, 
 followed by only two officers. The hussars dispersed
 
 Saint-Simon 17 
 
 themselves, and retreated; the Due de Montfort fol- 
 lowed them, rode into the midst of them, was surround- 
 ed on all sides, and soon received a blow which over- 
 turned him. In a few moments after, being carried 
 off by his men, he died, having only had time to con- 
 fess himself, and to arrive at his quarters. He was in- 
 finitely regretted by everybody who had known him. 
 The grief of his family may be imagined. 
 
 VOL. II. 2
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Naval Battle of Malaga Danger of Gibraltar Duke of 
 Mantua in Search of a Wife Duchesse de Lesdiguieres 
 Strange Intrigues Mademoiselle d'Elbceuf Carries off the 
 Prize A Curious Marriage Its Result History of a 
 Conversion to Catholicism Attempted Assassination 
 Singular Seclusion. 
 
 THE King did not long remain without some con- 
 solation for the loss of the battle of Hochstedt 
 (Blenheim). The Comte de Toulouse very different 
 in every respect from his brother, the Due du Maine 
 was wearied with cruising in the Mediterranean, with- 
 out daring to attack enemies that were too strong for 
 him. He had, therefore, obtained reinforcements this 
 year, so that he was in a state to measure his forces 
 with any opponent. The English fleet was under the 
 command of Admiral Rooke. The Comte de Toulouse 
 wished above all things to attack. He asked permis- 
 sion to do so, and, the permission being granted, he 
 set about his enterprise. He met the fleet of Admiral 
 Rooke near Malaga, on the 24th of September of this 
 year, and fought with it from ten o'clock in the morn- 
 ing until eight o'clock in the evening. The fleets, as 
 far as the number of vessels w : as concerned, were 
 nearly equal. So furious or so obstinate a sea-fight 
 
 IS 2
 
 Saint-Simon 19 
 
 had not been seen for a long time. They had always 
 the wind upon our fleet, yet all the advantage was on 
 the side of the Comte de Toulouse, who could boast 
 that he had obtained the victory, and whose vessel 
 fought that of Rooke, dismasted it, and pursued it all 
 next day towards the coast of Barbary, where the Ad- 
 miral retired. The enemy lost six thousand men ; the 
 ship of the Dutch Yice-Admiral was blown up ; sev- 
 eral others were sunk, and some dismasted. Our fleet 
 lost neither ship nor mast, but the victory cost the lives 
 of many distinguished people, in addition to those of 
 fifteen hundred soldiers or sailors killed or wounded. 
 
 Towards evening on the 25th, by dint of manoeuvres, 
 aided by the wind, our fleet came up again with that 
 of Rooke. The Comte de Toulouse was for attacking 
 it again on the morrow, and showed that if the attack 
 were successful, Gilbraltar would be the first result of 
 the victory. That famous place, which commands the 
 important strait of the same name, had been allowed 
 to fall into neglect, and was defended by a miserable 
 garrison of forty men. In this state it had of course 
 easily fallen into the hands of the enemies. But they 
 had not yet had time to man it with a much superior 
 force, and Admiral Rooke once defeated, it must have 
 surrendered to us. 
 
 The Comte de Toulouse urged his advice with all the 
 energy of which he was capable, and he was supported 
 in opinion by others of more experience than himself. 
 But D'O, the mentor of the fleet, against whose counsel 
 he had been expressly ordered by the King never to 
 act, opposed the project of another attack with such 
 disdainful determination, that the Comte had no course
 
 2O Memoirs of 
 
 open but to give way. The annoyance which this 
 caused throughout the fleet was very great. It soon 
 was known what would have become of the enemy's 
 fleet had it been attacked, and that Gibraltar would 
 have been found in exactly the same state as when 
 abandoned. The Comte de Toulouse acquired great 
 honour in this campaign, and his stupid teacher lost 
 little, because he had little to lose. 
 
 M. de Mantua having surrendered his state to the 
 King, thereby rendering us a most important service 
 in Italy, found himself ill at ease in his territory, which 
 had become the theatre of war, and had come incognito 
 to Paris. He had apartments provided for him in the 
 Luxembourg, furnished magnificently with the Crown 
 furniture, and was very graciously received by the 
 King. The principal object of his journey was to marry 
 some French lady ; and as he made no secret of this 
 intention, more than one plot was laid in order to pro- 
 vide him with a wife. M. de Vaudemont, intent upon 
 aggrandising the house of Lorraine, wished M. de 
 Mantua to marry a member of that family, and fixed 
 upon Mademoiselle d'Elbceuf for his bride. The Lor- 
 raines did all in their power to induce M. de Mantua 
 to accept her. But M. le Prince had also his designs 
 in this matter. He had a daughter, whom he knew not 
 how to get off his hands, and he thought that in more 
 ways than one it would be to his advantage to marry 
 her to the Duke of Mantua. He explained his views 
 to the King, who gave him permission to follow them 
 out, and promised to serve him with all his protection. 
 But when the subject was broached to M. de Mantua, 
 he declined this match in such a respectful, yet firm.
 
 Saint-Simon 21 
 
 manner that M. le Prince felt he must abandon all 
 hope of carrying it out. The Lorraines were not more 
 successful in their designs. When M. de Vaudemont 
 had first spoken of Mademoiselle d'Elbceuf, M. de 
 Mantua had appeared to listen favourably. This was 
 in Italy. Now that he was in Paris he acted very dif- 
 ferently. It was in vain that Mademoiselle d'Elbceuf 
 was thrust in his way, as though by chance, at the 
 promenades, in the churches ; her beauty, which might 
 have touched many others, made no impression upon 
 him. The fact was that M. de Mantua, even long before 
 leaving his state, had fixed upon a wife. 
 
 Supping one evening with the Due de Lesdiguieres, 
 a little before the death of the latter, he saw a ring with 
 a portrait in it, upon the Duke's finger. He begged 
 to be allowed to look at the portrait, was charmed with 
 it, and said he should be very happy to have such a 
 beautiful mistress. The Duke at this burst out laugh- 
 ing, and said it was the portrait of his wife. As soon 
 as the Due de Lesdiguieres was dead, M. de Mantua 
 thought only of marrying the young widowed Duch- 
 ess. He sought her everywhere when he arrived in 
 Paris, but without being able to find her, because she 
 was in the first year of her widowhood. He therefore 
 unbosomed himself to Torcy, who reported the matter 
 to the King. The King approved of the design of M. 
 de Mantua, and charged the Marechal de Duras to 
 speak to the Duchesse de Lesdiguieres, who was his 
 daughter. The Duchess was equally surprised and 
 afflicted when she learned what was in progress. She 
 testified to her father her repugnance to abandon her- 
 self to the caprices and the jealousy of an old Italian
 
 22 Memoirs of 
 
 debauchc; the horror she felt at the idea of being left 
 alone with him in Italy ; and the reasonable fear she 
 had of her health, with a man whose own could not be 
 good. 
 
 I was promptly made acquainted with this affair; 
 for Madame de Lesdiguieres and Madame de Saint- 
 Simon were on the most intimate terms. I did every- 
 thing in my power to persuade Madame de Lesdi- 
 guieres to consent to the match, insisting at once on 
 her family position, on the reason of state, and on the 
 pleasure of ousting Madame d'Elboeuf, but it was all 
 in vain. I never saw such firmness. Pontchartrain, 
 who came and reasoned with her, was even less suc- 
 cessful than I, for he excited her by threats and 
 menaces. M. le Prince himself supported us having 
 no longer any hope for himself, and fearing, above all 
 things, M. de Mantua's marriage with a Lorraine 
 and did all he could to persuade Madame de Lesdi- 
 guieres to give in. I renewed my efforts in the same 
 direction, but with no better success than before. 
 Nevertheless, M. de Mantua, irritated by not being 
 able to see Madame de Lesdiguieres, resolved to go 
 and wait for her en a Sunday at the Minimes. He 
 found her shut up in a chapel, and drew near the door 
 in order to see her as she went out. He was not much 
 gratified ; her thick crape veil was lowered ; it was 
 with difficulty he could get a glance at her. Resolved 
 to succeed, he spoke to Torcy, intimating that Madame 
 de Lesdiguieres ought not to refuse such a slight 
 favour as to allow herself to be seen in a church. Torcy 
 communicated this to the King, who sent word to 
 Madame de Lesdiguieres that she must consent to the
 
 Saint-Simon 23 
 
 favour M. de Mantua demanded. She could not refuse 
 after this. M. de Mantua went accordingly, and waited 
 for her in the same place, where he had once already 
 so badly seen her. He found her in the chapel, and 
 drew near the door, as before. She came out, her veil 
 raised, passed lightly before him, made him a sliding 
 courtesy as she glided by, in reply to his bow, and 
 reached her coach. 
 
 M. de Mantua was charmed : he redoubled his ef- 
 forts with the King and M. de Duras ; the matter was 
 discussed in full council, like an affair of state indeed 
 it U'as one; and it was resolved to amuse M. de 
 Mantua, and yet at the same time to do everything to 
 vanquish this resistance of Madame de Lesdiguieres, 
 except employing the full authority of the King, which 
 the King himself did not wish to exert. Everything 
 was promised to her on the part of the King : that it 
 should be his Majesty who would make the stipula- 
 tions of the marriage contract ; that it should be his 
 Majesty who would give her a dowry, and would guar- 
 antee her return to France if she became a widow, and 
 assure her his protection while she remained a wife: 
 in one word, everything was tried, and in the gentlest 
 and most honourable manner, to persuade her. Her 
 mother lent us her house one afternoon, in order that 
 we might speak more at length and more at our ease 
 there to Madame de Lesdiguieres than we could at 
 the Hotel de Duras. We only gained a torrent of tears 
 for our pains. 
 
 A few days after this. I was very much astonished 
 to hear Chamillart relate to me all that had passed at 
 this interview. I learnt afterwards that Madame de
 
 24 Memoirs of 
 
 Lesdiguieres, fearing that if, entirely unsupported, she 
 persisted in her refusal, it might draw upon her the 
 anger of the King, had begged Chamillart to implore 
 his Majesty not to insist upon this marriage. M. de 
 Mantua hearing this, turned his thoughts elsewhere ; 
 and she was at last delivered of a pursuit which had 
 become a painful persecution to her. Chamillart served 
 her so well that the affair came to an end ; and the 
 King, flattered perhaps by the desire this young Duch- 
 ess showed to remain his subject instead of be- 
 coming a sovereign, passed a eulogium upon her the 
 same evening in his cabinet to his family and to the 
 Princesses, by whom it was spread abroad through 
 society. 
 
 I may as well finish this matter at once. The Lor- 
 raines, who had watched very closely the affair up to 
 this point, took hope again directly they heard of the 
 resolution M. de Mantua had formed to abandon his 
 pursuit of Madame de Lesdiguieres. They, in their 
 turn, were closely watched by M. le Prince, \vho so 
 excited the King against them, that Madame d'Elbceuf 
 received orders from him not to continue pressing her 
 suit upon M. de Mantua. That did not stop them. 
 They felt that the King would not interfere with them 
 by an express prohibition, and sure, by past experi- 
 ence, on being on better terms with him afterwards 
 than before, they pursued their object with obstinacy. 
 By dint of much plotting and scheming, and by the aid 
 of their creatures, they contrived to overcome the re- 
 pugnance of M. de Mantua to Mademoiselle d'Elbceuf, 
 which at bottom could be only caprice her beauty, 
 her figure, and her birth taken into account. But
 
 Saint-Simon 25 
 
 Mademoiselle d'Elboeuf, in her turn, was as opposed 
 to marriage with M. de Mantua as Madame de Lesdi- 
 guieres had been. She was, however, brought round 
 ere long, and then the consent of the King was the only 
 thing left to be obtained. The Lorraines made use of 
 their usual suppleness in order to gain that. They rep- 
 resented the impolicy of interfering with the selection 
 of a sovereign who was the ally of France, and who 
 wished to select a wife from among her subjects, and 
 succeeded so well, that the King determined to become 
 neutral ; that is to say, neither to prohibit nor to sanc- 
 tion this match. M. le Prince was instrumental in in- 
 ducing the King to take this neutral position ; and he 
 furthermore caused the stipulation to be made, that it 
 should not be celebrated in France, but at Mantua. 
 
 After parting with the King, M. de Mantua, on the 
 2 ist of September, went to Nemours, slept there, and 
 then set out for Italy. At the same time Madame and 
 Mademoiselle d'Elbceuf, with Madame de Pompadour, 
 sister of the former, passed through Fontainebleau 
 without going to see a soul, and followed their prey 
 lest he should change his mind and escape them 
 until the road he was to take branched off from that 
 they were to go by ; he in fact intending to travel by 
 sea and they by land. On the way their fears re- 
 doubled. Arrived at Nevers, and lodged in a hostel- 
 rie, they thought it would not be well to commit them- 
 selves further without more certain security. Madame 
 de Pompadour therefore proposed to M. de Mantua 
 not to delay his happiness any longer, but to celebrate 
 his marriage at once. He defended himself as well as 
 he could, but was at last obliged to give in. During
 
 26 Memoirs of 
 
 this indecent dispute, the Bishop was sent to. He had 
 just died, and the Grand Vicar, not knowing what 
 might be the wishes of the King upon this marriage, 
 refused to celebrate it. The chaplain was therefore ap- 
 pealed to, and he at once married Mademoiselle d'El- 
 bceuf to M. de Mantua in the hotel. As soon as the 
 ceremony was over, Madame d'Elboeuf wished to leave 
 her daughter alone with M. de Mantua, and although 
 he strongly objected to this, everybody quitted the 
 room, leaving only the newly married couple there, 
 and Madame de Pompadour outside upon the step 
 listening to what passed between them. But finding 
 after a while that both were very much embarrassed, 
 and that M. de Mantua did little but cry out for the 
 company to return, she conferred with her sister, and 
 they agreed to give him his liberty. Immediately he 
 had obtained it, he mounted his horse, though it was 
 not early, and did not see them again until they reached 
 Italy though all went the same road as far as Lyons. 
 The news of this strange celebration of marriage was 
 soon spread abroad with all the ridicule which attached 
 to it. 
 
 The King was very much annoyed when he learnt 
 that his orders had been thus disobeyed. The Lor- 
 raines plastered over the affair by representing that 
 they feared an affront from M. de Mantua, and indeed 
 it did not seem at all unlikely that M. de Mantua, 
 forced as it were into compliance with their wishes, 
 might have liked nothing better than to reach Italy 
 and then laugh at them. Meanwhile, Madame d'El- 
 boeuf and her daughter embarked on board the royal 
 galleys and started for Italy. On the way they were
 
 Saint-Simon 27 
 
 fiercely chased by some African corsairs, and it is a 
 great pity they were not taken to finish the romance. 
 
 However, upon arriving in Italy, the marriage was 
 again celebrated, this time with all the forms necessary 
 for the occasion. But Madame d'Elbceuf had no cause 
 to rejoice that she had succeeded in thus disposing of 
 her daughter. The new Duchesse de Mantua was 
 guarded by her husband with the utmost jealousy. 
 She was not allowed to see anybody except her mother, 
 and that only for an hour each day. Her women en- 
 tered her apartment only to dress and undress her. 
 The Duke walled up very high all the windows of his 
 house, and caused his wife to be guarded by old 
 women. She passed her days thus in a cruel prison. 
 This treatment, which I did not expect, and the little 
 consideration, not to say contempt, shown here for M. 
 de Mantua since his departure, consoled me much for 
 the invincible obstinacy of Madame de Lesdiguieres. 
 Six months after, Madame d'Elboeuf returned, beside 
 herself with vexation, but too vain to show it. She 
 disguised the misfortune of her daughter, and appeared 
 to be offended if it was spoken of ; but all our letters 
 from the army showed that the news was true. The 
 strangest thing of all is, that the Lorraines after this 
 journey were as well treated by the King as if they 
 had never undertaken it ; a fact which shows their art 
 and ascendency. 
 
 I have dwelt too long perhaps upon this matter. It 
 appeared to me to merit attention by its singularity, 
 and still more so because it is by facts of this sort that 
 is shown what was the composition of the Court of the 
 King.
 
 28 Memoirs of 
 
 About this time the Comtesse d'Auvergne finished 
 a short life by an illness very strange and uncommon. 
 When she married the Comte d'Auvergne she was a 
 Huguenot, and he much wanted to make her turn 
 Catholic. A famous advocate of that time, who was 
 named Chardon, had been a Huguenot, and his wife 
 also ; they had made a semblance, however, of abjur- 
 ing, but made no open profession of Catholicism. 
 Chardon was sustained by his great reputation, and 
 by the number of protectors he had made for himself. 
 One morning he and his wife were in their coach be- 
 fore the Hotel-Dieu, waiting for a reply that their 
 lackey was a very long time in bringing them. Ma- 
 dame Chardon glanced by chance upon the grand por- 
 tal of Notre Dame, and little by little fell into a pro- 
 found reverie, which might be better called reflection. 
 Her husband, who at last perceived this, asked her 
 what had sent her into such deep thought, and pushed 
 her elbow even to draw a reply from her. She told him 
 then what she was thinking about. Pointing to Notre 
 Dame, she said that it was many centuries before 
 Luther and Calvin that those images of saints had been 
 sculptured over that portal ; that this proved that saints 
 had long since been invoked ; the opposition of the re- 
 formers to this ancient opinion was a novelty ; that 
 this novelty rendered suspicious other dogmas against 
 the antiquity of Catholicism that they taught ; that 
 these reflections, which she had never before made, 
 gave her much disquietude, and made her form the 
 resolution to seek to enlighten herself. 
 
 Chardon thought his wife right, and from that day 
 they laid themselves out to seek the truth, then to con-
 
 Saint-Simon 29 
 
 suit, then to be instructed. This lasted a year, and then 
 they made a new abjuration, and both ever afterwards 
 passed their lives in zeal and good works. Madame 
 Chardon converted many Huguenots. The Comte 
 d'Auvergne took his wife to her. The Countess was 
 converted by her, and became a very good Catholic. 
 When she died she was extremely regretted by all the 
 relatives of her husband, although at first they had 
 looked upon her coldly. 
 
 In the month of this September, a strange attempt at 
 assassination occurred. Vervins had been forced into 
 many suits against his relatives, and was upon the 
 point of gaining all them, when one of his cousins- 
 german, who called himself the Abbe de Pre caused 
 him to be attacked as he passed in his coach along the 
 Quai de laTournelle, before the community of Madame 
 de Miramion. Vervins was wounded with several 
 sword cuts, and also his coachman, who wished to de- 
 fend him. In consequence of the complaint Vervins 
 made, the Abbe escaped abroad, whence he never re- 
 turned, and soon after, his crime being proved, was 
 condemned to be broken alive on the wheel. Vervins 
 had long been menaced with an attack by the Abbe. 
 Vervins was an agreeable, well-made man, but very 
 idle. He had entered the army ; but quitted it soon, 
 and retired to his estates in Picardy. There he shut 
 himself up without any cause of disgust or of displeas- 
 ure, without being in any embarrassment, for on the 
 contrary he was well to do, and all his affairs were in 
 good order, and he never married ; without motives of 
 piety, for piety was not at all in his vein ; without being 
 in bad health, for his health was always perfect ; with-
 
 30 Saint-Simon 
 
 out a taste for improvement, for no workmen were ever 
 seen in his house ; still less on account of the chase, 
 for he never went to it. Yet he stayed in his house for 
 several years, without intercourse with a soul, and, 
 what is most incomprehensible, without budging from 
 his bed, except to allow it to be made. He dined there, 
 and often all alone ; he transacted what little business 
 he had to do there, and received while there the few 
 people he could not refuse admission to ; and each day, 
 from the moment he opened his eyes until he closed 
 them again, worked at tapestry, or read a little ; he 
 persevered until his death in this strange fashion of 
 existence ; so uniquely singular, that I have wished to 
 describe it.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Fascination of the Duchesse de Bourgogne Fortunes of Nan- 
 gis He is Loved by the Duchess and Her Dame d'Atours 
 Discretion of the Court Maulevrier His Courtship of 
 the Duchess Singular Trick Its Strange Success Mad 
 Conduct of Maulevrier He is Sent to Spain His Advent- 
 ures There His Return and Tragical Catastrophe. 
 
 THERE presents itself to my memory an anecdote 
 which it would he very prudent perhaps to he 
 silent upon, and which is very curious for anybody 
 who has seen things so closely as I have, to describe. 
 What determines me to relate it is, that the fact is not 
 altogether unknown, and that every Court swarms 
 with similar adventures. Must it he said then? We 
 had amongst us a charming young Princess who, by 
 her graces, her attentions, and her original manners, 
 had taken possession of the hearts of the King, of 
 Madame de Maintenon, and of her husband, Monsei- 
 gneur le Due de Bourgogne. The extreme discontent 
 so justly felt against her father, M. de Savoie, had not 
 made the slightest alteration in their tenderness for her. 
 The King, who hid nothing from her, who worked 
 with his ministers in her presence whenever she liked 
 to enter, took care not to say a word in her hearing 
 against her father. In private, she clasped the King 
 
 31 2
 
 32 Memoirs of 
 
 round the neck at all hours, jumped upon his knees, 
 
 tormented him with all sorts of sportiveness, rum- 
 maged among his papers, opened his letters and read 
 them in his presence, sometimes in spite of him; and 
 acted in the same manner with Madame de Mainte- 
 non. Despite this extreme liberty, she never spoke 
 against any one : gracious to all, she endeavoured to 
 ward off blows from all whenever she could ; \vas 
 attentive to the private comforts of the King, even 
 the humblest: kind to all who served her, and living 
 with her ladies, as with friends, in complete liberty, 
 old and young; she was the darling of the Court, 
 adored by all ; everybody, great and small, was anxious 
 to please her ; everybody missed her when she was 
 away ; when she re-appeared the void was filled up ; 
 in a word, she had attached all hearts to her ; but while 
 in this brilliant situation she lost her own. 
 
 Nangis, now a very common-place Marshal of 
 France, was at that time in full bloom. He had an 
 agreeable but not an uncommon face; was well made, 
 without anything marvellous ; and had been educated 
 in intrigue by the Marechale de Rochefort, his grand- 
 mother, and Madame de Blansac, his mother, who 
 were skilled mistresses of that art. Early introduced 
 by them into the great world of \vhich they were, so 
 to speak, the centre, he had no talent but that of pleas- 
 ing women, of speaking their language, and of monop- 
 olising the most desirable by a discretion beyond his 
 years, and which did not belong to his time. No- 
 body was more in vogue than he. He had had the 
 command of a regiment when he was quite a child. 
 He had shown firmness, application, and brilliant
 
 Saint-Simon 33 
 
 valour in war, that the ladies had made the most of, 
 and they sufficed at his age ; he was of the Court of 
 Monseigneur le Due de Bourgogne, about the same 
 age, and w^ell treated by him. 
 
 The Due de Bourgogne, passionately in love with 
 his wife, \vas not so well made as Xangis ; but the 
 Princess reciprocated his ardour so perfectly that up 
 to his death he never suspected that her glances had 
 wandered to any one else. They fell, however, upon 
 Nangis, and soon redoubled. Xangis was not un- 
 grateful, but he feared the thunderbolt ; and his heart, 
 too, was already engaged. Madame de la Yrilliere, 
 who, without beauty, was pretty and grateful as Love, 
 had made this conquest. She was, as I have said, 
 daughter of Madame dc Mailly, Dame d'Atours of 
 Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne ; and was always 
 near her. Jealousy soon enlightened her as to what 
 was taking place. Far from yielding her conquest to 
 the Duchess, she made a point of preserving it, of 
 disputing its possession, and carrying it off. This 
 struggle threw Xangis into a terrible embarrassment. 
 He feared the fury of Madame de la Vrilliere, who 
 affected to be more ready to break out than in reality 
 she was. Besides his love for her, he feared the re- 
 sult of an outburst, and already saw his fortune lost. 
 On the other hand, any reserve of his towards the 
 Duchess, who had so much power in her hands and 
 seemed destined to have more and who he knew was 
 not likely to suffer a rival might, he felt, be his ruin. 
 This perplexity, for those who were aware of it, gave 
 rise to continual scenes. I was then a constant visitor 
 of Madame dc Blansac, at Paris, and of the Marechale 
 VOL. II. 3
 
 34 Memoirs of 
 
 de Rochefort, at Versailles ; and, through them and 
 several other ladies of the Court, with whom I was 
 intimate, I learnt, day by day, everything that passed. 
 In addition to the fact that nothing diverted me more, 
 the results of this affair might be great ; and it was 
 my especial ambition to be well informed of every- 
 thing. At length, all members of the Court who were 
 assiduous and enlightened understood the state of 
 affairs ; but either through fear or from love to the 
 Duchess, the whole Court was silent, saw everything, 
 whispered discreetly, and actually kept the secret that 
 was not entrusted to it. The struggle between the two 
 ladies, not without bitterness, and sometimes insolence 
 on the part of Madame de la Vrilliere, nor without 
 suffering and displeasure gently manifested on the part 
 of Madame de Bourgogne, was for a long time a singu- 
 lar sight. 
 
 Whether Nangis, too faithful to his first love, needed 
 some grains of jealousy to excite him, or whether 
 things fell out naturally, it happened that he found a 
 rival. Maulevrier, son of a brother of Colbert who 
 had died of grief at not being named Marshal of 
 France, was this rival. He had married a daughter 
 of the Marechal de Tesse, and was not very agreeable 
 in appearance his face, indeed, was very common- 
 place. He was by no means framed for gallantry ; 
 but he had wit, and a mind fertile in intrigues, with a 
 measureless ambition that was sometimes pushed to 
 madness. His wife was pretty, not clever, quarrel- 
 some, and under a virginal appearance, mischievous 
 to the last degree. As daughter of a man for whom 
 Madame cle Bourgogne had much gratitude for the
 
 Saint-Simon 35 
 
 part he had taken in negotiating her marriage, and 
 the Peace of Savoy, she was easily enabled to make 
 her way at Court, and her husband with her. He soon 
 sniffed what was passing in respect to Nangis, and 
 obtained means of access to Madame cle Bourgogne, 
 through the influence of his father-in-law ; was as- 
 siduous in his attentions ; and at length, excited by 
 example, dared to sigh. Tired of not being under- 
 stood, he ventured to write. It is pretended that he 
 sent his letters through one of the Court ladies, who 
 thought they came from Tesse, delivered them, and 
 handed him back the answers, as though for delivery 
 by him. I will not add what more was believed. I 
 will simply say that this affair was as soon perceived as 
 had been the other, and was treated with the same 
 silence. 
 
 Under pretext of friendship, Madame de Bourgogne 
 went more than once on account of the speedy de- 
 parture of her husband (for the army), attended some- 
 times by La Maintenon, to the house of Madame de 
 Maulevrier, to weep with her. The Court smiled. 
 Whether the tears were for Madame de Maulevrier or 
 for Nangis, was doubtful. But Nangis, nevertheless, 
 aroused by this rivalry, threw Madame de la Vrilliere 
 into terrible grief, and into a humour over which she 
 was not mistress. 
 
 This tocsin made itself heard by Maulevrier. What 
 will not a man think of doing when possessed to excess 
 by love or ambition? He pretended to have some- 
 thing the matter with his chest, put himself on a milk 
 diet, made believe that he had lost his voice, and was 
 sufficiently master of himself to refrain from uttering
 
 36 Memoirs of 
 
 an intelligible word during- a whole year ; by these 
 means evading the campaign and remaining at the 
 Court. He was mad enough to relate this project, 
 and many others, to his friend the Due de Lorges, 
 from whom, in turn, I learnt it. The fact was, that 
 bringing himself thus to the necessity of never speak- 
 ing to anybody except in their ear, he had the liberty 
 of speaking low to Madame la Duchesse de Bour- 
 gogne before all the Court without impropriety and 
 without suspicion. In this manner he said to her 
 whatever he wished day by day, and was never over- 
 heard. He also contrived to say things the short 
 answers to which were equally unheard. He so ac- 
 customed people to this manner of speaking that they 
 took no more notice of it than was expressed in pity 
 for such a sad state ; but it happened that those who 
 approached the nearest to Madame la Duchesse de 
 Bourgogne when Maulevrier was at her side, soon 
 knew enough not to be eager to draw near her again 
 when she was thus situated. This trick lasted more 
 than a year : his conversation was principally composed 
 of reproaches but reproaches rarely succeeded in 
 love. Maulevrier, judging by the ill-humour of Ma- 
 dame de la Yrilliere, believed Nangis to be happy. 
 Jealousy and rage transported him at last to the ex- 
 tremity of folly. 
 
 One day, as Madame de Bourgogne was coming 
 from mass and he knew that Dangeau, her chevalier 
 d'honneur, was absent, he gave her his hand. The at- 
 tendants had accustomed themselves to let him have 
 this honour, on acount of his distinguished voice, so 
 as to allow him to speak by the way, and retired re-
 
 Saint-Simon 37 
 
 spectfully so as not to hear what he said. The ladies 
 always followed far behind, so that, in the midst of all 
 the Court, he had, from the chapel to the apartments 
 of Madame de Bourgogne, the full advantages of a 
 private interview advantages that he had availed him- 
 self of several times. On this day he railed against 
 Nangis to Madame de Bourgogne, called him by all 
 sorts of names, threatened to tell everything to the 
 King and to Madame de Maintenon, and to the Due 
 de Bourgogne, squeezed her fingers as if he would 
 break them, and led her in this manner, like a madman 
 as he was, to her apartments. Upon entering them 
 she was ready to swoon. Trembling all over she en- 
 tered her wardrobe, called one of her favourite ladies, 
 Madame de Nogarct, to her, related what had oc- 
 curred, saying she knew not how she had reached her 
 rooms, or how it was she had not sunk beneath the 
 floor, or died. She had never been so dismayed. The 
 same day Madame de Xogaret related this to Madame 
 de Saint-Simon and to me, in the strictest confidence. 
 She counselled the Duchess to behave gently with 
 such a dangerous madman, and to avoid committing 
 herself in any way with him. The worst was, that after 
 this he threatened and said many things against Xan- 
 gis, as a man with whom he was deeply offended, and 
 whom he meant to call to account. Although he gave 
 no reason for this, the reason was only too evident. 
 The fear of Madame de Bourgogne at this may be 
 imagined, and also that of Xangis. lie was brave and 
 cared for nobody ; but to be mixed up in such an affair 
 as this made him quake with fright. lie beheld his 
 fortune and his happiness in the hands of a furious
 
 38 Memoirs of 
 
 madman. He shunned Maulevrier from that time as 
 much as possible, showed himself but little, and held 
 his peace. 
 
 For six weeks Madame de Bourgogne lived in the 
 most measured manner, and in mortal tremors of fear, 
 without, however, anything happening. I know not 
 who warned Tesse of what was going on. But when 
 he learnt it he acted like a man of ability. He per- 
 suaded his son-in-law, Maulevrier, to follow him to 
 Spain, as to a place where his fortune was assured to 
 him. He spoke to Fagon, who saw all and knew all. 
 He understood matters in a moment, and at once said, 
 that as so many remedies had been tried ineffectually 
 for Maulevrier, he must go to a warmer climate, as a 
 winter in France would inevitably kill him. It was 
 then as a remedy, and as people go to the waters, that 
 he went to Spain. The King and all the Court be- 
 lieved this, and neither the King nor Madame de Main- 
 tenon offered any objections. As soon as Tesse knew 
 this he hurried his son-in-law out of the realm, and so 
 put a stop to his follies and the mortal fear they had 
 caused. To finish this adventure at once, although it 
 will lead me far beyond the date of other matters to be 
 spoken of after, let me say what became of Maulevrier 
 after this point of the narrative. 
 
 He went first to Spain with Tesse. On the way 
 they had an interview with Madame des Ursins, and 
 succeeded in gaining her favour so completely, that, 
 upon arriving at Madrid, the King and Queen of 
 Spain, informed of this, welcomed them with much 
 cordiality. Maulevrier soon became a great favourite 
 with the Queen of Spain. It has been said that he
 
 Saint-Simon 39 
 
 wished to please her, and that he succeeded. At all 
 events he often had long interviews with her in private, 
 and these made people think and talk. 
 
 Maulevrier began to believe it time to reap after 
 having so well sown. He counted upon nothing less 
 than being made grandee of Spain, and would have 
 obtained this favour but for his indiscretion. News 
 of what was in store for him was noised abroad. The 
 Due de Grammont, then our ambassador at Madrid, 
 wrote word to the King of the rumours that were in 
 circulation of Maulevrier's audacious conduct towards 
 the Queen of Spain, and of the reward it was to meet 
 with. The King at once sent a very strong letter to 
 the King of Spain about Maulevrier, who, by the same 
 courier, was prohibited from accepting any favour that 
 might be offered him. He was ordered at the same 
 time to join Tesse at Gibraltar. He had already done 
 so at the instance of Tesse himself ; so the courier went 
 from Madrid to Gibraltar to find him. His rage and 
 vexation upon seeing himself deprived of the recom- 
 pense he had considered certain were very great. But 
 they yielded in time to the hopes he formed of success, 
 and he determined to set off for Madrid and thence 
 to Versailles. His father-in-law tried to retain him 
 at the siege, but in vain. His representations and his 
 authority were alike useless. Maulevrier hoped to 
 gain over the King and Queen of Spain so completely, 
 that our King would be forced, as it were, to range 
 himself on their side ; but the Due de Grammont at 
 once wrote word that Maulevrier had left the siege of 
 Gibraltar and returned to Madrid. This disobedience 
 was at once chastised. A courier was immediately de-
 
 40 Memoirs of 
 
 spatched to Maulevrier, commanding him to set out 
 for France. He took leave of the King and Queen of 
 Spain like a man without hope, and left Spain. The 
 most remarkable thing is, that upon arriving at Paris, 
 and finding the Court at Marly, and his wife there 
 also, he asked permission to go too, tlie husbands 
 being allowed by right to accompany their wives there, 
 and the King, to avoid a disturbance, did not refuse 
 him. 
 
 At first everything seemed to smile upon Maule- 
 vrier. He had, as I have said, made friends with 
 Madame des Ursins when he was on the road to 
 Spain. He had done so chiefly by vaunting his inti- 
 macy with Madame de Bourgogne, and by showing 
 to Madame des Ursins that he was in many of the 
 secrets of the Court. Accordingly, upon his return, 
 she took him by the hand and showed a disposition 
 towards him which could not fail to reinstate him in 
 favour. She spoke well of him to Madame de Main- 
 tenon, who, always much smitten with new friends, 
 received him well, and often had conversations with 
 him which lasted more than three hours. Madame de 
 Maintenon mentioned him to the King, and Maule- 
 vrier, who had returned out of all hope, now saw him- 
 self in a more favourable position than ever. 
 
 But the old cause of trouble still existed, and with 
 fresh complications. Xangis was still in favour, and 
 his appearance made Maulevrier miserable. There 
 was a new rival too in the field, the Abbe de Polignac. 
 
 Pleasing, nay most fascinating in manner, the Abbe 
 was a man to gain all hearts. He stopped at no 
 flattery to succeed in this. One day when following
 
 Saint-Simon 41 
 
 the King through the gardens of Marly, it came on to 
 rain. The King considerately noticed the Abbe's 
 dress, little calculated to keep off rain. '' It is no 
 matter, Sire," said De Polignac, " the rain of Marly 
 does not wet." People laughed mudi at this, and 
 these words were a standing reproach to the soft- 
 spoken Abbe. 
 
 One of the means by which the Abbe gained the 
 favour of the King was by being the lover of Madame 
 du Maine. His success at length was great in every 
 direction. He even envied the situations of Xangis 
 and Maulevrier ; and sought to participate in the same 
 happiness. He took the same road. Madame d'O 
 and the Marechale de Cceuvres became his friends. 
 He sought to be heard, and t\.'as heard. At last he 
 faced the danger of the Swiss, and on fine nights was 
 seen with the Duchess in the gardens. Xangis di- 
 minished in favour. Maulevrier on his return in- 
 creased in fury. The Abbe met with the same fate as 
 they : everything was perceived : people talked about 
 the matter in whispers, but silence was kept. This 
 triumph, in spite of his age, did not satisfy the Abbe : 
 he aimed at something more solid. He wished to 
 arrive at the cardinalship, and to further his views he 
 thought it advisable to ingratiate himself into the 
 favour of Monsieur de Bourgogne. He sought intro- 
 duction to them through friends of mine, whom I 
 warned against him as a man without scruple, and in- 
 tent only upon advancing himself. My warnings were 
 in vain. My friends would not heed me, and the Abbe 
 de Polignac succeeded in gaining the confidence of 
 Monsieur de Bourgogne, as \vell as the favour of 
 Madame de Bourgogne.
 
 42 Memoirs of 
 
 Maulevrier had thus two sources of annoyance 
 the Abbe de Polignac and Nangis. Of the latter he 
 showed himself so jealous, that Madame de Maule- 
 vrier, out of pique, made advances to him. Nangis, 
 to screen himself the better, replied to her. Maule- 
 vrier perceived this. He knew his wife to be suffi- 
 ciently wicked to make him fear her. So many 
 troubles of heart and brain transported him. He lost 
 his head. 
 
 One day the Marechale de Cceuvres came to see 
 him, apparently on some message of reconciliation. 
 He shut the door upon her ; barricaded her within, and 
 through the door quarrelled with her, even to abuse, 
 for an hour, during which she had the patience to re- 
 main there without being able to see him. After this 
 lie went rarely to Court, but generally kept himself 
 shut up at home. 
 
 Sometimes he would go out all alone at the strangest 
 hours, take a fiacre and drive away to the back of the 
 Chartreux or to other remote spots. Alighting there, 
 he would whistle, and a grey-headed old man would 
 advance and give him a packet, or one would be thrown 
 to him from a window, or he would pick up a box filled 
 with despatches, hidden behind a post. I heard of 
 these mysterious doings from people to whom he was 
 vain and indiscreet enough to boast of them. He con- 
 tinually wrote letters to Madame de Bourgogne, and 
 to Madame de Maintenon, but more frequently to the 
 former. Madame Cantin was their agent ; and I know 
 people who have seen letters of hers in which she 
 assured Maulevrier, in the strongest terms, that he 
 might ever reckon on the Duchess.
 
 Saint-Simon 43 
 
 He made a last journey to Versailles, where he saw 
 his mistress in private, and quarrelled with her cruelly. 
 After dining with Torcy he returned to Paris. There, 
 torn by a thousand storms of love, of jealousy, of am- 
 bition, his head was so troubled that doctors were 
 obliged to be called in, and he was forbidden to see 
 only the most indispensable persons, and those at the 
 hours when he was least ill. A hundred visions passed 
 through his brain. Now like a madman he would 
 speak only of Spain, of Madame de Bourgogne, of 
 Nangis, whom he wished to kill or to have assassi- 
 nated ; now full of remorse towards M. de Bourgogne, 
 he made reflections so curious to hear, that no one 
 dared to remain with him, and he was left alone. At 
 other times, recalling his early days, he had nothing 
 but ideas of retreat and penitence. Then a confession 
 was necessary in order to banish his despair as to the 
 mercy of God. Often he thought himself very ill and 
 upon the point of death. 
 
 The world, however, and even his nearest friends 
 persuaded themselves that he was only playing a part ; 
 and hoping to put an end to it, they declared to him 
 that he passed for mad in society, and that it behoved 
 him to rise out of such a strange state and show himself. 
 This was the last blow and it overwhelmed him. 
 Furious at finding that this opinion was ruining all the 
 designs of his ambition, he delivered himself up in 
 despair. Although watched with extreme care by his 
 wife, by particular friends, and by his servants, he took 
 his measures so well, that on the Good Friday of the 
 year 1/06, at about eight o'clock in the morning, he 
 slipped away from them all, entered a passage behind
 
 44 Saint-Simon 
 
 his room, opened the window, threw himself into the 
 court below, and dashed out his brains upon the pave- 
 ment. Such was the end of an ambitious man, who, 
 by his wild and dangerous passions, lost his wits, and 
 then his life, a tragic victim of himself. 
 
 Madame de Bourgogne learnt the news at night. 
 In public she showed no emotion, but in private some 
 tears escaped her. They might have been of pity, but 
 were not so charitably interpreted. Soon after, it was 
 noticed that Madame de Maintenon seemed embar- 
 rassed and harsh towards Madame de Bourgogne. 
 It was no longer doubted that Madame de Maintenon 
 had heard the whole story. She often had long inter- 
 views with Madame de Bourgogne, who always left 
 them in tears. Her sadness grew so much, and her 
 eyes were so often red, that Monsieur de Bourgogne at 
 last became alarmed. But he had no suspicion of the 
 truth, and was easily satisfied with the explanation he 
 received. Madame de Bourgogne felt the necessity, 
 however, of appearing gayer, and showed herself so. 
 As for the Abbe de Polignac, it was felt that that dan- 
 gerous person was best away. He received therefore 
 a post which called him away, as it were, into exile ; and 
 though he delayed his departure as long as possible, 
 was at length obliged to go. Madame de Bourgogne 
 took leave of him in a manner that showed how much 
 she was affected. Some rather insolent verses were 
 written upon this event ; and were found written on 
 a balustrade by Madame, who was not discreet enough 
 or good enough to forget them. But they made little 
 noise ; everybody loved Madame de Bourgogne, and 
 hid these verses as much as possible.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Death of M. de Duras Selfishness of the King Anecdote of 
 Puysieux Character of Pontchartrain Why he Ruined 
 the French Fleet Madame des Ursins at Last Resolves to 
 Return to Spain Favours Heaped upon Her M. de Lauzun 
 at the Army His bon mot Conduct of M. de Vendome 
 Disgrace and Character of the Grand Prieur. 
 
 AT the beginning of October, news reached the 
 Court, which was at Fontainebleau, that M. de 
 Duras was at the point of death. Upon hearing this, 
 Madame de Saint-Simon and Madame de Lauzun, who 
 were both related to M. Duras, wished to absent them- 
 selves from the Court performances that were to take 
 place in the palace that evening. They expressed this 
 wish to Madame de Bourgogne, who approved of it, 
 but said she was afraid the King would not do the same. 
 He had been very angry lately because the ladies had 
 neglected to go full dressed to the Court performances. 
 A few words he had spoken made everybody take good 
 care not to rouse his anger on this point again. He 
 expected so much accordingly from everybody who 
 attended the Court, that Madame de Bourgogne was 
 afraid he would not consent to dispense with the at- 
 tendance of Madame de Saint-Simon and Madame de 
 Lauzun on this occasion. They compromised the mat- 
 
 45 2
 
 46 Memoirs of 
 
 ter, therefore, by dressing themselves, going to the 
 room where the performance was held, and, under pre- 
 text of not finding places, going away; Madame de 
 Bourgogne agreeing to explain their absence in this 
 way to the King. I notice this very insignificant baga- 
 telle to show how the King thought only of himself, 
 and how much he wished to be obeyed ; and that that 
 which would not have been pardoned to the nieces of 
 a dying man, except at the Court, was a duty there, 
 and one which it needed great address to escape from, 
 without seriously infringing the etiquette established. 
 
 After the return of the Court from Fontainebleau 
 this year, Puysieux came back from Switzerland, hav- 
 ing been sent there as ambassador. Puysieux was a 
 little fat man, very agreeable, pleasant, and witty, one 
 of the best fellows in the w'orld, in fact. As he had 
 much wit, and thoroughly knew the King, he bethought 
 himself of making the best of his position ; and as his 
 Majesty testified much friendship for him on his re- 
 turn, and declared himself satisfied with his mission 
 in Switzerland, Puysieux asked if what he heard was 
 not mere compliment, and whether he could count 
 upon it. As the King assured him that he might do 
 so, Puysieux assumed a brisk air, and said that he 
 was not so sure of that, and that he was not pleased 
 with his Majesty. 
 
 " And why not ? " said the King. 
 
 " Why not ? " replied Puysieux ; " why, because al- 
 though the most honest man in your realm, you have 
 not kept to a promise you made me more than fifty 
 years ago." 
 
 " What promise ? " asked the King.
 
 Saint-Simon 47 
 
 " What promise, Sire? " said Puysieux ; " you have 
 a good memory, you cannot have forgotten it. Does 
 not your Majesty remember that one day, having the 
 honour to play at blindman's buff with you at my 
 grandmother's, you put your cordon bleu on my back, 
 the better to hide yourself; and that when, after the 
 game, I restored it to you, you promised to give it me 
 when you became master ; you have long been so, 
 thoroughly master, and nevertheless that cordon bleu 
 is still to come." 
 
 The King, who recollected the circumstance, here 
 burst out laughing, and told Puysieux he was in the 
 right, and that a chapter should be held on the first day 
 of the new year expressly for the purpose of receiv- 
 ing him into the order. And so in fact it was, and 
 Puysieux received the cordon bleu on the day the 
 King had named. This fact is not important, but it is 
 amusing. It is altogether singular in connection with 
 a prince as serious and as imposing as Louis XIV. ; 
 and it is one of those little Court anecdotes which are 
 curious. 
 
 Here is another more important fact, the con- 
 sequences of which are still felt by the State. Pont- 
 chartrain, Secretary of State for the Navy, was the 
 plague of it, as of all those who were under his cruel 
 dependence. He was a man who, with some amount 
 of ability, was disagreeable and pedantic to an excess ; 
 who loved evil for its own sake ; who was jealous even 
 of his father ; who was a cruel tyrant towards his w r ife, 
 a woman all docility and goodness ; who was in one 
 word a monster, whom the King kept in office only 
 because he feared him. An admiral was the abhor-
 
 48 Memoirs of 
 
 rence of Pontchartrain, and an admiral who was an 
 illegitimate son of the King, he loathed. There was 
 nothing, therefore, that he had not done during the 
 war to thwart the Comte de Toulouse ; he laid some 
 obstacles everywhere in his path; he had tried to keep 
 him out of the command of the fleet, and failing this, 
 had done everything to render the fleet useless. 
 
 These were bold strokes against a person the King 
 so much loved, but Pontchartrain knew the weak side 
 of the King ; he knew how to balance the father against 
 the master, to bring forward the admiral and set aside 
 the son. In this manner the Secretary of State was 
 able to put obstacles in the way of the Comte de Tou- 
 louse that threw him almost into despair, and the Count 
 could do little to defend himself. It was a well-known 
 fact at sea and in the ports where the ships touched, 
 and it angered all the fleet. Pontchartrain accordingly 
 was abhorred there, while the Comte de Toulouse, by 
 his amiability and other good qualities, was adored. 
 At last, the annoyance he caused became so unendur- 
 able, that the Comte de Toulouse, at the end of his 
 cruise in the Mediterranean, returned to Court and de- 
 termined to expose the doings of Pontchartrain to the 
 King. 
 
 The very day he had made up his mind to do this, 
 and just before he intended to have his interview with 
 the King, Madame Pontchartrain, casting aside her 
 natural timidity and modesty, came to him, and with 
 tears in her eyes begged him not to bring about the 
 ruin of her husband. The Comte de Toulouse was 
 softened. He admitted afterwards that he could not 
 resist the sweetness and sorrow of Madame de Pont-
 
 Saint-Simon 49 
 
 chartrain, and that all his resolutions, his weapons, fell 
 from his hands at the thought of the sorrow which 
 the poor woman would undergo, after the fall of her 
 brutal husband, left entirely in the hands of such a 
 furious Cyclops. In this manner Pontchartrain was 
 saved, but it cost dear to the State. The fear he was 
 in of succumbing- under the glory or under the ven- 
 geance of an admiral who was son of the King deter- 
 mined him to ruin the fleet itself, so as to render it in- 
 capable of receiving the admiral again. He determined 
 to do this, and kept to his word, as was afterwards only 
 too clearly verified by the facts. The Comte de Tou- 
 louse saw no more either ports or vessels, and from 
 that time only very feeble squadrons went out, and even 
 those very seldom. Pontchartrain had the impudence 
 to boast of this before my face. 
 
 When I last spoke of Madame des Ursins, I de- 
 scribed her as living in the midst of the Court, flat- 
 tered and caressed by all, and on the highest terms of 
 favour with the King and Madame de Maintenon. She 
 found her position, indeed, so far above her hopes, that 
 she began to waver in her intention of returning to 
 Spain. The age and the health of Madame de Main- 
 tenon tempted her. She would have preferred to gov- 
 ern here rather than in Spain. Flattered by the atten- 
 tions paid her, she thought those attentions, or, I may 
 say, rather those servile adorations, would continue 
 for ever, and that in time she might arrive at the high- 
 est point of power. The Archbishop of Aix and her 
 brother divined her thoughts, for she did not dare to 
 avow them, and showed her in the clearest way that 
 those thoughts were calculated to lead her astray. 
 VOL. II. 4
 
 50 Memoirs of 
 
 They explained to her that the only interest Madame 
 de Maintenon had in favouring her was on account of 
 Spain. Madame des Ursins once back in that country, 
 Madame de Maintenon looked forward to a recom- 
 mencement of those relations which had formerly ex- 
 isted between them, by which the government of Spain 
 in appearance, if not in reality, passed through her 
 hands. They therefore advised Madame des Ursins on 
 no account to think of remaining in France, at the 
 same time suggesting that it would not be amiss to 
 stop there long enough to cause some inquietude to 
 Madame de Maintenon, so as to gain as much ad- 
 vantage as possible from it. 
 
 The solidity of these reasons persuaded Madame des 
 Ursins to follow the advice given her. She resolved 
 to depart, but not until after a delay of which she meant 
 to profit to the utmost. We shall soon see what suc- 
 cess attended her schemes. The terms upon which I 
 stood with her enabled me to have knowledge of all 
 the sentiments that had passed through her mind : 
 her extreme desire, upon arriving in Paris, to return 
 to Spain ; the intoxication which seized her in con- 
 sequence of the treatment she received, and which 
 made her balance this desire ; and her final resolution. 
 It was not until afterwards, however, that I learnt all 
 the details I have just related. 
 
 It was not long before Madame de Maintenon began 
 to feel impatient at the long-delayed departure of Ma- 
 dame des Ursins. She spoke at last upon the subject, 
 and pressed Madame des Ursins to set out for Spain. 
 This was just what the other wanted. She said that as 
 she had been driven out of Spain like a criminal, she
 
 Saint-Simon 51 
 
 must go back with honour, if Madame de Maintenon 
 wished her to gain the confidence and esteem of the 
 Spaniards. That although she had been treated by 
 the King with every consideration and goodness, many 
 people in Spain were, and would be, ignorant of it, 
 and that, therefore, her return to favour ought to be 
 made known in as public and convincing a manner as 
 was her disgrace. This was said with all that elo- 
 quence and persuasiveness for which Madame des 
 Ursins was remarkable. The effect of it exceeded her 
 hopes. 
 
 The favours she obtained were prodigious. Twenty 
 thousand livres by way of annual pension, and thirty 
 thousand for her journey. One of her brothers, M. de 
 Noirmoutiers, blind since the age of eighteen or twenty, 
 was made hereditary duke ; another, the Abbe de la 
 Tremoille, of exceeding bad life, and much despised 
 in Rome, where he lived, was made cardinal. \Yhat a 
 success was this ! How many obstacles had to be over- 
 come in order to attain it ! Yet this was what Madame 
 des Ursins obtained, so anxious was Madame de Main- 
 tenon to get rid of her and to send her to reign in 
 Spain, that she might reign there herself. Pleased and 
 loaded with favour as never subject was before, Ma- 
 dame des Ursins set out towards the middle of July, 
 and was nearly a month on the road. It may be im- 
 agined what sort of a reception awaited her in Spain. 
 The King and the Queen went a day's journey out of 
 Madrid to meet her. Here, then, we see again at the 
 height of power this woman, whose fall the King but 
 a short time since had so ardently desired, and whose 
 separation from the King and Queen of Spain he had
 
 52 Memoirs of 
 
 applauded himself for bringing about with so much 
 tact. What a change in a few months ! 
 
 The war continued this year, but without bringing 
 any great success to our arms. Yillars, at Circk, out- 
 manceuvred Marlborough in a manner that would have 
 done credit to the greatest general. Marlborough, 
 compelled to change the plan of campaign he had de- 
 termined on, returned into Flanders, where the Alare- 
 chal de Villeroy was stationed with his forces. Noth- 
 ing of importance occurred during the campaign, and 
 the two armies went into winter quarters at the end 
 of October. 
 
 I cannot quit Flanders without relating another in- 
 stance of the pleasant malignity of AI. de Lauzun. In 
 marrying a daughter of the Alarechal de Lorges, he 
 had hoped, as I have already said, to return into the 
 confidence of the King by means of the Alarechal, and 
 so be again entrusted with military command. Find- 
 ing these hopes frustrated, he thought of another means 
 of reinstating himself in favour. He determined to go 
 to the waters of Aix-la-Chapelle, not, as may be be- 
 lieved, for his health, but in order to ingratiate himself 
 with the important foreigners whom he thought to find 
 there, learn some of the enemy's plans, and come back 
 with an account of them to the King, who would, no 
 doubt, reward him for his zeal. But he was deceived 
 in his calculation. Aix-la-Chapelle, generally so full 
 of foreigners of rank, was this year, owing to the war, 
 almost empty. AI. de Lauzun found, therefore, nobody 
 of consequence from whom he could obtain any useful 
 information. Before his return, he visited the Alare- 
 chal de Villerov, who received him with all militarv
 
 Saint-Simon 53 
 
 honours, and conducted him all over the army, point- 
 ing out to him the enemy's posts ; for the two armies 
 were then quite close to each other. His extreme anx- 
 iety, however, to get information, and the multitude of 
 his questions, irritated the officers who were ordered 
 to do the honours to him; and, in going about, they 
 actually, at their own risk, exposed him often to be 
 shot or taken. They did not know that his courage 
 was extreme ; and were quite taken aback by his calm- 
 ness, and his evident readiness to push on even farther 
 than they chose to venture. 
 
 On returning to Court, M. de Lauzun was of course 
 pressed by everybody to relate all he knew of the posi- 
 tion of the two armies. But he held himself aloof from 
 all questioners, and would not answer. On the day 
 after his arrival he went to pay his court to Mon- 
 seignetir, who did not like him, but who also was no 
 friend to the Marechal de Yilleroy. Monseigneur put 
 many questions to him upon the situation of the two 
 armies, and upon the reasons which had prevented 
 them from engaging each other. M. de Lauzun 
 shirked reply, like a man who wished to be pressed ; 
 did not deny that he had well inspected the position 
 of the two armies, but instead of answering Mon- 
 seigneur, dwelt upon the beauty of our troops, their 
 gaiety at finding themselves so near an enemy, and 
 their eagerness to fight. Pushed at last to the point 
 at which he wished to arrive, " I will tell you, Mon- 
 seigneur," said he, " since you absolutely command 
 me ; I scanned most minutely the front of the two 
 armies to the right and to the left, and all the ground 
 between them. It is true there is no brook, and that I
 
 54 Memoirs of 
 
 saw; neither are there any ravines, nor hollow roads 
 ascending or descending ; but it is true that there were 
 other hindrances which I particularly remarked." 
 
 " But what hindrance could there be," said Mon- 
 seigneur, " since there was nothing between the two 
 armies? " 
 
 M. de Lauzun allowed himself to be pressed upon 
 this point, constantly repeating the list of hindrances 
 that did not exist, but keeping silent upon the others. 
 At last, driven into a corner, he took his snuff-box 
 from his pocket. 
 
 " You see," said he, to Monseigneur, "' there is one 
 thing which much embarrasses the feet, the furze that 
 grows upon the ground, where M. le Marechal de Ville- 
 roy is encamped. The furze, it is true, is not mixed 
 with any other plant, either hard or thorny ; but it is 
 a high furze, as high, as high, let me see, what shall I 
 say? " and he looked all around to find some object 
 of comparison " as high, I assure you, as this snuff- 
 box !" 
 
 Monseigneur burst out laughing at this sally, and 
 all the company followed his example, in the midst 
 of which M. de Lauzun turned on his heel and left the 
 room. His joke soon spread all over the Court and 
 the town, and in the evening was told to the King. 
 This was all the thanks M. de Villeroy obtained from 
 M. de Lauzun for the honours he had paid him; and 
 this was M. de Lauzun's consolation for his ill-success 
 at Aix-la-Chapelle. 
 
 In Italy our armies were not more successful than 
 elsewhere. From time to time, M. de Vendome at- 
 tacked some unimportant post, and, having carried it,
 
 Saint-Simon 55 
 
 despatched couriers to the King, magnifying the im- 
 portance of the exploit. But the fact was, all these 
 successes led to nothing. On one occasion, at Cassano, 
 M. de Yendome was so vigorously attacked by Prince 
 Louis of Baden that, in spite of his contempt and his 
 audacity, he gave himself up for lost. When danger 
 was most imminent, instead of remaining at his post, 
 he retired from the field of battle to a distant country- 
 house, and began to consider how a retreat might be 
 managed. The Grand Prieur, his brother, was in com- 
 mand under him, and was ordered to remain upon the 
 field ; but he was more intent upon saving his skin 
 than of obeying orders, and so, at the very outset of the 
 fight, ran away to a country-house hard by. M. de 
 Yendome strangely enough had sat clown to eat at the 
 country-house whither he had retired, and was in the 
 midst of his meal when news was brought him that, 
 owing to the prodigies performed by one of his of- 
 ficers, Le Guerchois, the fortunes of the day had 
 changed, and Prince Louis of Baden was retiring. M. 
 Yendome had great difficulty to believe this, but or- 
 dered his horse, mounted, and, pushing on, concluded 
 the combat gloriously. He did not fail, of course, to 
 claim all the honours of this victory, which in reality 
 was a barren one ; and sent word of his triumph to 
 the King. He dared to say that the loss of the enemy 
 was more than thirteen thousand ; and our loss less 
 than three thousand whereas, the loss was at least 
 equal. This exploit, nevertheless, resounded at the 
 Court and through the town a? an advantage the most 
 complete and the most decisive, and due entirely to 
 the vigilance, valour, and capacity of Vendome. Not
 
 56 Memoirs of 
 
 a word was said of his country-house, or the inter- 
 rupted meal. These facts were only known after the 
 return of the general officers. As for the Grand Prieur, 
 his poltroonery had been so public, his flight so dis- 
 graceful for he had taken troops with him to protect 
 the country-house in which he sought shelter that 
 he could not be pardoned. The two brothers quar- 
 relled upon these points, and in the end the Grand 
 Prieur was obliged to give up his command. He re- 
 tired to his house at Clichy, near Paris ; but, tiring of 
 that place, he went to Rome, made the acquaintance 
 there of the Marquise de Richelieu, a wanderer like 
 himself, and passed some time with her at Genoa. 
 Leaving that city, he went to Chalons-sur-Saone, 
 which had been fixed upon as the place of his exile, and 
 there gave himself up to the debaucheries in which he 
 usually lived. From this time until the Regency we 
 shall see nothing more of him. I shall only add, there- 
 fore, that he never went sober to bed during thirty 
 years, but was always carried thither dead drunk : was 
 a liar, swindler, and thief ; a rogue to the marrow oi 
 his bones, rotted with vile diseases; the most con- 
 temptible and yet most dangerous fellow in the world.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A Hunting Adventure Story and Catastrophe of Fargues 
 Death and Character of Ninon de 1'Enclos Odd Advent- 
 ure of Courtenvaux Spies at Court New Enlistment 
 Wretched State of the Country Balls at Marly. 
 
 TWO very different persons died towards the latter 
 part of this year. The first was Lamoignon, 
 Chief President; the second, Xinon, known by the name 
 of Mademoiselle de 1'Enclos. Of Lamoignon I will re- 
 late a single anecdote, curious and instructive, which 
 will show the corruption of which he was capable. 
 
 One day I am speaking of a time many years pre- 
 vious to the date of the occurrences just related one 
 day there was a great hunting party at Saint Germain. 
 The chase was pursued so long, that the King gave up, 
 and returned to Saint Germain. A number of cour- 
 tiers, among whom was M. de Lauzun, who related this 
 story to me, continued their sport; and just as dark- 
 ness was coming on, discovered that they had lost their 
 way. After a time, they espied a light, by which they 
 guided their steps, and at length reached the door of 
 a kind of castle. They knocked, they called aloud, they 
 named themselves, and asked for hospitality. It was 
 then between ten and eleven at night, and towards the 
 end of autumn. The door was opened to them. The 
 
 57 2
 
 58 Memoirs of 
 
 master of the house came forth. He made them take 
 their boots off, and warm themselves; he put their 
 horses into his stables; and at the same time had a 
 supper prepared for his guests, who stood much in 
 need of it. They did not wait long for the meal; yet 
 when served it proved excellent; the wines served with 
 it, too, were of several kinds, and excellent likewise: as 
 for the master of the house, he was so polite and re- 
 spectful, yet without being ceremonious or eager, that 
 it was evident he had frequented the best company. 
 The courtiers soon learnt that his name was Fargues, 
 that the place was called Courson, and that he had 
 lived there in retirement several years. After having 
 supped, Fargues showed each of them into a separate 
 bedroom, where they were waited upon by his valets 
 with every proper attention. In the morning, as soon 
 as the courtiers had dressed themselves, they found an 
 excellent breakfast awaiting them; and upon leaving 
 the table they saw their horses ready for them, and as 
 thoroughly attended to as they had been themselves. 
 Charmed with the politeness and with the manners of 
 Fargues, and touched by his hospitable reception of 
 them, they made him many offers of service, and made 
 their way back to Saint Germain. Their non-appear- 
 ance on the previous night "had been the common talk, 
 their return and the adventure they had met with was 
 no less so. 
 
 These gentlemen were then the very flower of the 
 Court, and all of them very intimate with the King. 
 They related to him, therefore, their story, the manner 
 of their reception, and highly praised the master of the 
 house and his good cheer. The King asked his name,
 
 Saint-Simon 59 
 
 and, as soon as he heard it, exclaimed, " What, Far- 
 gues! is he so near here, then?" The courtiers re- 
 doubled their praises, and the King said no more; but 
 soon after went to the Queen-mother, and told her what 
 had happened. 
 
 Fargues, indeed, was no stranger, either to her or to 
 the King. He had taken a prominent part in the 
 movements of Paris against the Court and Cardinal 
 Mazarin. If he had not been hanged, it was because 
 he was well supported by his party, who had him in- 
 cluded in the amnesty granted to those who had been 
 engaged in these troubles. Fearing, however, that the 
 hatred of his enemies might place his life in danger if 
 he remained in Paris, he retired from the capital to this 
 country-house which has just been mentioned, where 
 he continued to live in strict privacy, even when the 
 death of Cardinal Mazarin seemed to render such se- 
 clusion no longer necessary. 
 
 The King and the Queen-mother, who had pardoned 
 Fargues in spite of themselves, were much annoyed at 
 finding that he was living in opulence and tranquillity 
 so near the Court; thought him extremely bold to do 
 so; and determined to punish him for this and for his 
 former insolence. They directed Lamoignon, there- 
 fore, to find out something in the past life of Fargues 
 for which punishment might be awarded; and La- 
 moignon, eager to please, and make a profit out of his 
 eagerness, was not long in satisfying them. He made 
 researches, and found means to complicate Fargues in a 
 murder that had been committed in Paris at the height 
 of the troubles. Officers were accordingly sent to 
 Courson, and its owner was arrested.
 
 60 Memoirs of 
 
 Fargues was. much astonished when he learnt of what 
 he was accused. He exculpated himself, nevertheless, 
 completely; alleging, moreover, that as the murder of 
 which he was accused had been committed during the 
 troubles, the amnesty in which he was included effaced 
 all memory of the deed, according to law and usage, 
 which had never been contested until this occasion. 
 The courtiers who had been so well treated by the un- 
 happy man, did everything they could with the judges 
 and the King to obtain the release of the accused. It 
 was all in vain. Fargues was decapitated at once, and 
 all his wealth was given by way of recompense to the 
 Chief-President Lamoignon, who had no scruple thus 
 to enrich himself with the blood of the innocent.* 
 
 The other person who died at the same time was, as 
 I have said, Ninon, the famous courtesan, known, since 
 age had compelled her to quit that trade, as Mademoi- 
 selle de 1'Enclos. She was a new example of the tri- 
 umph of vice carried on cleverly and repaired by some 
 virtue. The stir that she made, and still more the dis- 
 order that she caused among the highest and most brill- 
 iant youth, overcame the extreme indulgence that, not 
 without cause, the Queen-mother entertained for per- 
 sons whose conduct was gallant, and more than gal- 
 lant, and made her send her an order to retire into a 
 convent. But Ninon, observing that no especial con- 
 vent was named, said, with a great courtesy, to the offi- 
 cer who brought the order, that, as the option was left 
 
 * It is necessary to observe that some of the details of this story, 
 especially those that relate to the infamy of Lamoignon, have been de- 
 nied ; Fargues, too, was hanged, not decapitated ; but the main fact, the 
 initiative of the King in this murder (of the worst description, being 
 perpetrated under the forms of law) is denied by no one.
 
 Saint-Simon 61 
 
 to her, she would choose " the convent of the Corde- 
 liers at Paris; " which impudent joke so diverted the 
 Queen that she left her alone for the future. Ninon 
 never had but one lover at a time but her admirers 
 were numberless so that when wearied of one incum- 
 bent she told him so frankly, and took another. The 
 abandoned one might groan and complain; her decree 
 was without appeal; and this creature had acquired 
 such an influence, that the deserted lovers never dared 
 to revenge on the favoured one, and were too happy to 
 remain on the footing of friend of the house. She 
 sometimes kept faithful to one, when he pleased her 
 very much, during an entire campaign. 
 
 Ninon had illustrious friends of all sorts, and had so 
 much wit that she preserved them all and kept them on 
 good terms with each other; or, at least, no quarrels 
 ever came to light. There was an external respect and 
 decency about everything that passed in her house, 
 such as princesses of the highest rank have rarely been 
 able to preserve in their intrigues. 
 
 In this way she had among her friends a selection of 
 the best members of the Court; so that it became the 
 fashion to be received by her, and it was useful to be so, 
 on account of the connections that were thus formed. 
 There was never any gambling there, nor loud laugh- 
 ing, nor disputes, nor talk about religion or politics; 
 but much and elegant wit, ancient and modern stories, 
 news of gallantries, yet without scandal. All was deli- 
 cate, light, measured; and she herself maintained the 
 conversation by her wit and her great knowledge of 
 facts. The respect which, strange to say, she had ac- 
 quired, and the number and distinction of her friends
 
 62 Memoirs of 
 
 and acquaintances, continued when her charms ceased 
 to attract; and when propriety and fashion compelled 
 her to use only intellectual baits. She knew all the in- 
 trigues of the old and the new Court, serious and other- 
 wise; her conversation was charming; she was disinter- 
 ested, faithful, secret, safe to the last degree; and, 
 setting aside her frailty, virtuous and full of probity. 
 She frequently succoured her friends with money and 
 influence; constantly did them the most important ser- 
 vices, and very faithfully kept the secrets or the money 
 deposits that were confided to her. 
 
 She had been intimate with Madame de Maintenon 
 during the whole of her residence at Paris; but Ma- 
 dame de Maintenon, although not daring to disavow 
 this friendship, did not like to hear her spoken about. 
 She wrote to Ninon with amity from time to time, even 
 until her death; and Ninon in like manner, \vhen she 
 wanted to serve any friend in whom she took great in- 
 terest, wrote to Madame de Maintenon, who did her 
 what service she required efficaciously and with prompt- 
 ness. But since Madame de Maintenon came to power, 
 they had only seen each other two or three times, and 
 then in secret. 
 
 Ninon was remarkable for her repartees. One that 
 she made to the last Marechal de Choiseul is worth re- 
 peating. The Marechal was virtue itself, but not fond 
 of company or blessed with much wit. One day, after 
 a long visit he had paid her, Ninon gaped, looked at 
 the Marechal, and cried: 
 
 " Oh, my lord! how many virtues you make me de- 
 test!" 
 
 A line from I know not what play. The laughter at
 
 Saint-Simon 63 
 
 this may be imagined. L'Enclos lived long beyond 
 her eightieth year, always healthy, visited, respected. 
 She gave her last years to God, and her death was the 
 news of the day. The singularity of this personage has 
 made me extend my observations upon her. 
 
 A short time after the death of [Mademoiselle de 1'En- 
 clos, a terrible adventure happened to Courtenvaux, 
 eldest son of M. de Louvois. Courtenvaux was com- 
 mander of the Cent-Suisses, fond of obscure debauches; 
 with a ridiculous voice, miserly, quarrelsome, though 
 modest and respectful; and in fine a very stupid fel- 
 low. The King, more eager to know all that was pass- 
 ing than most people believed, although they gave him 
 credit for not a little curiosity in this respect, had au- 
 thorised Bontems to engage a number of Swiss in ad- 
 dition to those posted at the doors, and in the parks 
 and gardens. These attendants had orders to stroll 
 morning, noon, and night, along the corridors, the 
 passages, the staircases, even into the private places, 
 and, when it was fine, in the court-yards and gardens; 
 and in secret to watch people, to follow them, to notice 
 where they went, to notice who was there, to listen to 
 all the conversation they could hear, and to make re- 
 ports of their discoveries. This was assiduously done 
 at Versailles, at Marly, at Trianon, at Fontainebleau, 
 and in all the places where the King was. These new 
 attendants vexed Courtenvaux considerably, for over 
 such new-comers he had no sort of authority. This 
 season, at Fontainebleau. a room, which had formerly 
 been occupied by a party of the Cent-Suisses and of 
 the body-guard, was given up entirely to the new corps. 
 The room was in a public passage of communication
 
 64 Memoirs of 
 
 indispensable to all in the chateau, and in consequence, 
 excellently well adapted for watching those who passed 
 through it. Courtenvaux more than ever vexed by 
 this new arrangement, regarded it as a fresh encroach- 
 ment upon his authority, and flew into a violent rage 
 with the new-comers, and railed at them in good set 
 terms. They allowed him to fume as he would; they 
 had their orders, and were too wise to be disturbed by 
 his rage. The King, who heard of all this, sent at once 
 for Courtenvaux. As soon as he appeared in the cabi- 
 net, the King called to him from the other end of the 
 room, without giving him time to approach, and in 
 a rage so terrible, and for him so novel, that not only 
 Courtenvaux, but Princes, Princesses, and everybody 
 in the chamber, trembled. Menaces that his post 
 should be taken away from him, terms the most severe 
 and the most unusual, rained upon Courtenvaux, who, 
 fainting with fright, and ready to sink under the 
 ground, had neither the time nor the means to prefer a 
 word. The reprimand finished by the King saying, 
 " Get out/' He had scarcely the strength to obey. 
 
 The cause of this strange scene was that Courten- 
 vaux, by the fuss he had made, had drawn the atten- 
 tion of the whole Court to the change effected by the 
 King, and that, when once seen, its object was clear 
 to all eyes. The King, who hid his spy system with 
 the greatest care, had counted upon this change pass- 
 ing unperceived, and was beside himself with anger 
 when he found it made apparent to everybody by Cour- 
 tenvaux's noise. He never regained the King's favour 
 during the rest of his life; and but for his family he 
 would certainly have been driven away, and his office 
 taken from him.
 
 Saint-Simon 65 
 
 Let me speak now of something of more moment. 
 The war, as I have said, still continued, but without 
 bringing us any advantages. On the contrary, our 
 losses in Germany and Italy by sickness, rather than 
 by the sword, were so great that it was resolved to aug- 
 ment each company by five men; and, at the same time, 
 twenty-five thousand militia were raised, thus causing 
 great ruin and great desolation in the provinces. The 
 King was rocked into the belief that the people were 
 all anxious to enter this militia, and, from time to time, 
 at Marly, specimens of those enlisted were shown to 
 him, and their joy and eagerness to serve made much of. 
 I have heard this often ; while, at the same time, I knew 
 from my own tenantry, and from everything that was 
 said, that the raising of this militia carried despair 
 everywhere, and that many people mutilated themselves 
 in order to exempt themselves from serving. Nobody 
 at the Court was ignorant of this. People lowered 
 their eyes when they saw the deceit practised upon the 
 King, and the credulity he displayed, and afterwards 
 whispered one to another what they thought of flattery 
 so ruinous. Fresh regiments, too, were raised at this 
 time, and a crowd of new colonels and staffs created, 
 instead of giving a new battalion or a squadron addi- 
 tional to regiments already in existence. I saw quite 
 plainly towards what rock we were drifting. We had 
 met losses at Hochstedt, Gibraltar, and Barcelona; Cata- 
 lonia and the neighbouring countries were in revolt; 
 Italy yielding us nothing but miserable successes; Spain 
 exhausted; France, failing in men and money, and with 
 incapable generals, protected by the Court against their 
 faults. I saw all these things so plainly that I could 
 VOL. II. 5
 
 66 Memoirs of 
 
 not avoid making reflections, or reporting them to my 
 friends in office. I thought that it was time to finish 
 the war before we sank still lower, and that it might be 
 finished by giving to the Archduke what we could not 
 defend, and making a division of the rest. My plan 
 was to leave Philip V. possession of all Italy, except 
 those parts which belonged to the Grand Duke, the 
 republics of Venice and Genoa, and the ecclesiastical 
 states of Naples and Sicily; our King to have Lorraine 
 and some other slight additions of territory; and to 
 place elsewhere the Dukes of Savoy, of Lorraine, of 
 Parma, and of Modena. I related this plan to the 
 Chancellor and to Chamillart, amongst others. The 
 contrast between their replies was striking. The Chan- 
 cellor, after having listened to me very attentively, said, 
 if my plan were adopted, he would most willingly kiss 
 my toe for joy. Chamillart, with gravity replied, that 
 the King \vould not give up a single mill of all the 
 Spanish succession. Then I felt the blindness which 
 had fallen upon us, and how much the results of it were 
 to be dreaded. 
 
 Nevertheless, the King, as if to mock at misfortune 
 and to show his enemies the little uneasiness he felt, de- 
 termined, at the commencement of the new year, 1706, 
 that the Court should be gayer than ever. He an- 
 nounced that there would be balls at Marly every time 
 he was there this winter, and he named those who were 
 to dance there; and said he should be very glad to see 
 balls given to Madame de Bourgogne at Versailles. 
 Accordingly, many took place there, and also at Marly, 
 and from time to time there were masquerades. One 
 day, the King wished that everybody, even the most
 
 Saint-Simon 67 
 
 aged, who were at Marly, should go to the ball 
 masked; and, to avoid all distinction, he went there 
 himself with a gauze robe above his habit; but such 
 a slight disguise was for himself alone; everybody else 
 was completely disguised. M. and Madame de Beau- 
 villiers were there perfectly disguised. When I say 
 they were there, those who knew the Court will admit 
 that I have said more than enough. I had the pleas- 
 ure of seeing them, and of quietly laughing with them. 
 At all these balls the King made people dance who had 
 long since passed the age for doing so. As for the 
 Comte de Brionne and the Chevalier de Sully, their 
 dancing was so perfect that there was no age for them.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Arrival of Vendome at Court Character of that Disgusting 
 Personage Rise of Cardinal Alberoni Vendome's Recep- 
 tion at Marly His Unheard-of Triumph His High Flight 
 Returns to Italy Battle of Calcinato Condition of the 
 Army Pique of the Marechal de Villeroy Battle of Ramil- 
 lies Its Consequences. 
 
 IN the midst of all this gaiety, that is to say on the 
 1 2th of February, 1706, one of our generals, of 
 whom I have often spoken, I mean M. de Vendome, 
 arrived at Marly. He had not quitted Italy since suc- 
 ceeding to Marechal de Villeroy, after the affair of Cre- 
 mona. His battles, such as they were, the places he 
 had taken, the authority he had assumed, the reputa- 
 tion he had usurped, his incomprehensible successes 
 with the King, the certainty of the support he leaned 
 on, all this inspired him with the desire to come and 
 enjoy at Court a situation so brilliant, and which so far 
 surpassed what he had a right to expect. But before 
 speaking of the reception which was given him, and of 
 the incredible ascendancy he took, let me paint him 
 from the life a little more completely than I have yet 
 done.* 
 
 It is impossible to give intact the portrait sketched by Saint-Simon 
 of this disgusting personage. I have ventured as far as I could, in order 
 to show what sort of person was required to earn all the endearments of a 
 Creat King. 
 
 6-5
 
 Saint-Simon 69 
 
 Vendome was of ordinary height, rather stout, but 
 vigorous and active: with a very noble countenance 
 and lofty mien. There was much natural grace in his 
 carriage and words; he had a good deal of innate wit, 
 which he had not cultivated, and spoke easily, support- 
 ed by a natural boldness, which afterwards turned to 
 the wildest audacity; he knew the world and the Court; 
 was above all things an admirable courtier; was polite 
 when necessary, but insolent when he dared familiar 
 with common people in reality, full of the most rav- 
 enous pride. As his rank rose and his favour increased, 
 his obstinacy, and pig-headedness increased too, so that 
 at last he would listen to no advice whatever, and was 
 inaccessible to all, except a small number of familiars 
 and valets. No one better than he knew the subservi- 
 ency of the French character, or took more advantage 
 of it. Little by little he accustomed his subalterns, and 
 then from one to the other all his army, to call him 
 nothing but " Monseigneur," and " Your Highness." 
 In time the gangrene spread, and even lieutenant-gen- 
 erals and the most distinguished people did not dare to 
 address him in any other manner. 
 
 The most wonderful thing to whoever knew the King 
 so gallant to the ladies during a long part of his life, 
 so devout the other, and often importunate to make 
 others do as he did was that the said King had always 
 a singular horror of the inhabitants of the Cities of the 
 Plain; and yet M. de Vendome, though most odiously 
 stained with that vice so publicly that he treated it as 
 an ordinary gallantry never found his favour dimin- 
 ish on that account. The Court, Anet, the army, knew 
 of these abominations. Valets and subaltern officers
 
 70 Memoirs of 
 
 soon found the way to promotion. I have already 
 mentioned how publicly he placed himself in the doc- 
 tor's hands, and how basely the Court acted, imitating 
 the King, who would never have pardoned a legitimate 
 prince what he indulged so strangely in Vendome. 
 
 The idleness of M. de Vendome was equally matter 
 of notoriety. More than once he ran the risk of being 
 taken prisoner from mere indolence. He rarely him- 
 self saw anything at the army, trusting to his familiars 
 when ready to trust anybody. The way he employed 
 his day prevented any real attention to business. He 
 was filthy in the extreme, and proud of it. Fools called 
 it simplicity. His bed was always full of dogs and 
 bitches, who littered at his side, the pups rolling in the 
 clothes. He himself was under constraint in nothing. 
 One of his theses was, that everybody resembled him, 
 but was not honest enough to confess it as he was. 
 He mentioned this once to the Princesse de Conti 
 the cleanest person in the world, and the most delicate 
 in her cleanliness. 
 
 He rose rather late when at the army. * * * * 
 In this situation he wrote his letters, and gave his morn- 
 ing orders. Whoever had business with him, general 
 officers and distinguished persons, could speak to him 
 then. He had accustomed the army to this infamy. 
 At the same time he gobbled his breakfast; and whilst 
 he ate, listened, or gave orders, many spectators always 
 standing round .... (I must be excused these 
 disgraceful details, in order better to make him known). 
 . . . On shaving days he used the same vessel to 
 lather his chin in. This, according to him, was a sim- 
 plicity of manner worthy of the ancient Romans, and
 
 Saint-Simon 71 
 
 which condemned the splendour and superfluity of the 
 others. When all was over, he dressed; then played 
 high at piquet or hombrc ; or rode out, if it was abso- 
 lutely necessary. All was now over for the day. He 
 supped copiously with his familiars: was a great eater, 
 of wonderful gluttony; a connoisseur in no dish, liked 
 fish much, but the stale and stinking better than the 
 good. The meal prolonged itself in theses and dis- 
 putes, and above all in praise and flattery. 
 
 He would never have forgiven the slightest blame 
 from any one. He wanted to pass for the first captain 
 of his age, and spoke with indecent contempt of Prince 
 Eugene and all the others. The faintest contradiction 
 would have been a crime. The soldier and the subal- 
 tern adored him for his familiarity with them, and the 
 licence he allowed in order to gain their hearts; for all 
 which he made up by excessive haughtiness to\vards 
 whoever was elevated by rank or birth. 
 
 On one occasion the Duke of Parma sent the bishop 
 of that place to negotiate some affair with him; but M. 
 de Yendome took such disgusting liberties in his pres- 
 ence, that the ecclesiastic, though without saying a 
 word, returned to Parma, and declared to his master 
 that never would he undertake such an embassy again. 
 In his place another envoy was sent, the famous Al- 
 beroni. He was the son of a gardener, who became 
 an Abbe in order to get on. He was full of buffoon- 
 ery; and pleased M. de Parma as might a valet who 
 amused him, but he soon showed talent and capacity 
 for affairs. The Duke thought that the night-chair of 
 M. de Vendome required no other ambassador than 
 Alberoni, who was accordingly sent to conclude what
 
 72 Memoirs of 
 
 the bishop had left undone. The Abbe determined to 
 please, and was not proud. M. de Vendome exhibited 
 himself as before; and Alberoni, by an infamous act of 
 personal adoration, gained his heart. He was thence- 
 forth much with him, made cheese-soup and other odd 
 messes for him; and finally worked his way. It is true 
 he was cudgelled by some one he had offended, for a 
 thousand paces, in sight of the whole army, but this 
 did not prevent his advancement. Vendome liked such 
 an unscrupulous flatterer; and yet as we have seen, he 
 was not in want of praise. The extraordinary favour 
 shown him by the King the credulity with which his 
 accounts of victories were received showed to every 
 one in what direction their laudation was to be sent. 
 
 Such was the man whom the King and the whole 
 Court hastened to caress and flatter from the first mo- 
 ment of his arrival amongst us. There was a terrible 
 hubbub: boys, porters, and valets rallied round his post- 
 chaise when he reached Marly. Scarcely had he as- 
 cended into his chamber, than everybody, princes, bas- 
 tards, and all the rest, ran after him. The ministers 
 followed : so that in a short time nobody was left in the 
 salon but the ladies. M. de Beauvilliers was at Vau- 
 cresson. As for me, I remained spectator, and did not 
 go and adore this idol. 
 
 In a few minutes Yendome was sent for by the King 
 and Monseigneur. As soon as he could dress himself, 
 surrounded as he was by such a crowd, he went to the 
 salon, carried by it rather than environed. Mon- 
 seigneur stopped the music that was playing, in order 
 to embrace him. The King left the cabinet where he 
 was at work, and came out to meet him, embracing
 
 Saint-Simon 73 
 
 him several times. Chamillart on the morrow gave 
 a fete in his honour at L'Etang, which lasted two days. 
 Following his example, Pontchartrain, Torcy, and the 
 most distinguished lords of the Court, did the same. 
 People begged and entreated to give him fetes; people 
 begged and entreated to be invited to them. Never 
 was triumph equal to his; each step he took procured 
 him a new one. It is not too much to say, that every- 
 body disappeared before him; Princes of the blood, 
 ministers, the grandest seigneurs, all appeared only to 
 show how high he was above them; even the King 
 seemed only to remain King to elevate him more. 
 
 The people joined in this enthusiasm, both in Ver- 
 sailles and at Paris, where he went under pretence of 
 going to the opera. As he passed along the streets 
 crowds collected to cheer him ; they billed him at the 
 doors, and every seat was taken in advance; people 
 pushed and squeezed everywhere, and the price of ad- 
 mission was doubled, as on the nights of first perform- 
 ances. Yendome, who received all these homages with 
 extreme ease, was yet internally surprised by a folly so 
 universal. He feared that all this heat would not last 
 out even the short stay he intended to make. To keep 
 himself more in reserve, he asked and obtained per- 
 mission to go to Anet, in the intervals between the jour- 
 neys to Marly. All the Court, however, followed him 
 there, and the King was pleased rather than otherwise, 
 at seeing Versailles half deserted for Anet, actually ask- 
 ing some if they had been, others, when they intended 
 to go. 
 
 It was evident that every one had resolved to raise 
 M. de Yendome to the rank of a hero. He determined
 
 74 Memoirs of 
 
 to profit by the resolution. If they made him Mars, 
 why should he not act as such? He claimed to be ap- 
 pointed commander of the Marechals of France, and 
 although the King refused him this favour, he accorded 
 him one which was but the stepping-stone to it. M. de 
 Vendome went away towards the middle of March to 
 command the army in Italy, with a letter signed by the 
 King himself, promising him that if a Marechal of 
 France were sent to Italy, that Marechal was to take 
 commands from him. M. de Vendome was content, 
 and determined to obtain all he asked on a future day. 
 The disposition of the armies had been arranged just 
 before. Tesse, for Catalonia and Spain; Berwick, for 
 the frontier of Portugal; Marechal Villars, for Alsace; 
 Marsin, for the Moselle; Marechal de Villeroy, for 
 Flanders ; and M. de Vendome, as I have said, for Italy. 
 
 Now that I am speaking of the armies, let me give 
 here an account of all our military operations this year, 
 so as to complete that subject at once. 
 
 M. de Vendome commenced his Italian campaign by 
 a victory. He attacked the troops of Prince Eugene 
 upon the heights of Calcinate, drove them before him, 
 killed three thousand men, took twenty standards, ten 
 pieces of cannon, and eight thousand prisoners. It was 
 a rout rather than a combat. The enemy was much 
 inferior in force to us, and was without its general, 
 Prince Eugene, he not having returned to open the 
 campaign. He came back, however, the day after this 
 engagement, soon re-established order among his 
 troops, and M. de Vendome from that time, far from 
 being able to recommence the attack, was obliged to 
 keep strictly on the defensive while he remained in
 
 Saint-Simon 75 
 
 Italy. He did not fail to make the most of his victory, 
 which, however, to say the truth, led to nothing. 
 
 Our armies just now were, it must be admitted, in 
 by no means a good condition. The generals owed 
 their promotion to favour and fantasy. The King 
 thought he gave them capacity when he gave them 
 their patents. Under M. de Turenne the army had 
 afforded, as in a school, opportunities for young offi- 
 cers to learn the art of warfare, and to qualify them- 
 selves step by step to take command. They were 
 promoted as they showed signs of their capacity, and 
 gave proof of their talent. Now, however, it was very 
 different. Promotion was granted according to length 
 of service, thus rendering all application and diligence 
 unnecessary, except when M. de Louvois suggested to 
 the King such officers as he had private reasons for 
 being favourable to, and whose actions he could con- 
 trol. He persuaded the King that it was he himself 
 who ought to direct the armies from his cabinet. The 
 King, flattered by this, swallowed the bait, and Lou- 
 vois himself was thus enabled to govern in the name 
 of the King, to keep the generals in leading-strings, 
 and to fetter their every movement. In consequence 
 of the way in which promotions were made, the great- 
 est ignorance prevailed amongst all grades of officers. 
 None knew scarcely anything more than mere routine 
 duties, and sometimes not even so much as that. The 
 luxury which had inundated the army, too, where 
 everybody wished to live as delicately as at Paris, 
 hindered the general officers from associating with the 
 other officers, and in consequence from knowing and 
 appreciating them. As a matter of course, there were
 
 76 Memoirs of 
 
 no longer any deliberations upon the state of affairs, 
 in which the young might profit by the counsels of the 
 old, and the army profit by the discussions of all. The 
 young officers talked only of play and women ; the old, 
 of forage and equipages ; the generals spent half their 
 time in writing costly despatches, often useless, and 
 sending them away by couriers. The luxury of the 
 Court and city had spread into the army, so that deli- 
 cacies were carried there unknown formerly. Noth- 
 ing was spoken of but hot dishes in the marches and 
 in the detachments ; and the repasts that were carried 
 to the trenches, during sieges, were not only well 
 served, but ices and fruits were partaken of as at a fete, 
 and a profusion of all sorts of liqueurs. Expense 
 ruined the officers, who vied with one another in their 
 endeavours to appear magnificent ; and the things to 
 be carried, the work to be done, quadrupled the num- 
 ber of domestics and grooms, who often starved. For 
 a long time, people had complained of all this ; even 
 those who were put to the expenses, which ruined 
 them ; but none dared to spend less. At last, that is 
 to say, in the spring of the following year, the King 
 made severe rules, with the object of bringing about 
 a reform in this particular. There is no country in 
 Europe where there are so many fine laws, or where 
 the observance of them is of shorter duration. It often 
 happens, that in the first year all are infringed, and in 
 the second, forgotten. Such was the army at this time, 
 and we soon had abundant opportunities to note its 
 incapacity to overcome the enemies with whom we had 
 to contend. 
 
 The King wished to open this campaign with two
 
 Saint-Simon 77 
 
 battles ; one in Italy, the other in Flanders. His de- 
 sire was to some extent gratified in the former case ; 
 but in the other he met with a sad and cruel dis- 
 appointment. Since the departure of Marechal de 
 Villeroy for Flanders, the King had more than once 
 pressed him to engage the enemy. The Marechal, 
 piqued with these reiterated orders, which he consid- 
 ered as reflections upon his courage, determined to 
 risk anything in order to satisfy the desire of the King. 
 But the King did not wish this. At the same time that 
 he wished for a battle in Flanders, he wished to place 
 Yilleroy in a state to fight it. He sent orders, there- 
 fore, to Marsin to take eighteen battalions and twenty 
 squadrons of his army, to proceed to the Moselle, 
 where he would find twenty others, and then to march 
 with the whole into Flanders, and join Marechal de 
 Yilleroy. At the same time he prohibited the latter 
 from doing anything until this reinforcement reached 
 him. Four couriers, one after the other, carried this 
 prohibition to the Marechal ; but he had determined to 
 give battle without assistance, and he did so, with what 
 result will be seen. 
 
 On the 24th of May he posted himself between the 
 villages of Taviers and Ramillies. He was superior 
 in force to the Duke of Marlborough, who was opposed 
 to him, and this fact gave him confidence. Yet the 
 position which he had taken up was one which was 
 well known to be bad. The late M. de Luxembourg 
 had declared it so, and had avoided it. M. de Yilleroy 
 had been a witness of this, but it was his destiny and 
 that of France that lie should forget it. Before he 
 took up this position he announced that it was his in-
 
 78 Memoirs of 
 
 tention to do so to M. d'Orleans. M. d'Orleans said 
 publicly to all who came to listen, that if M. de Villeroy 
 did so he would be beaten. M. d'Orleans proved to 
 be only too good a prophet. 
 
 Just as M. de Villeroy had taken up his position and 
 made his arrangements, the Elector arrived in hot 
 haste from Brussels. It was too late now to blame 
 what had been done. There was nothing for it but 
 to complete what had been already begun, and await 
 the result. 
 
 It was about two hours after midday when the enemy 
 arrived within range, and came under our fire from 
 Ramillies. It forced them to halt until their cannon 
 could be brought into play, which was soon done. The 
 cannonade lasted a good hour. At the end of that 
 time they marched to Taviers, where a part of our 
 army was posted, found but little resistance, and made 
 themselves masters of that place. From that moment 
 they brought their cavalry to bear. They perceived 
 that there was a marsh which covered our left, but 
 which hindered our two wings from joining. They 
 made good use of the advantage this gave them. We 
 were taken in the rear at more than one point, and 
 Taviers being no longer able to assist us, Ramillies 
 itself fell, after a prodigious fire and an obstinate re- 
 sistance. The Comte de Guiche at the head of the 
 regiment of Guards defended it for four hours, and 
 performed prodigies, but in the end he was obliged to 
 give way. All this time our left had been utterly use- 
 less with its nose in the marsh, no enemy in front of it, 
 and with strict orders not to budge from its position. 
 
 Our retreat commenced in good order, but soon the
 
 Saint-Simon 79 
 
 night came and threw us into confusion. The defile 
 of Judoigne became so gorged with baggage and with 
 the wrecks of the artillery we had been able to save, 
 that everything was taken from us there. Neverthe- 
 less, we arrived at Louvain, and then not feeling in 
 safety, passed the canal of Wilworde without being 
 very closely followed by the enemy. 
 
 We lost in this battle four thousand men, and many 
 prisoners of rank, all of whom were treated with much 
 politeness by Marlborough. Brussels was one of the 
 first-fruits he gathered of this victory, which had such 
 grave and important results. 
 
 The King did not learn this disaster until Wednes- 
 day, the 26th of May, at his waking. I was at Versailles. 
 Never was such trouble or such consternation. The 
 worst was, that only the broad fact was known ; for six 
 days we were without a courier to give us details. 
 Even the post was stopped. Days seemed like years 
 in the ignorance of everybody as to details, and in the 
 inquietude of everybody for relatives and friends. The 
 King was forced to ask one and another for news ; but 
 nobody could tell him any. Worn out at last by the 
 silence, he determined to despatch Chamillart to Flan- 
 ders to ascertain the real state of affairs. Chamillart 
 accordingly left Versailles on Sunday, the 3Oth of May, 
 to the astonishment of all the Court, at seeing a man 
 charged with the war and the finance department sent 
 on such an errand. He astonished no less the army 
 when he arrived at Courtrai, where it had stationed it- 
 self. Having gained all the information he sought, 
 Chamillart returned to Versailles on Friday, the 4th of 
 June, at about eight o'clock in the evening, and at once
 
 8o Memoirs of 
 
 went to the King, who was in the apartments of 
 Madame de Maintenon. It was known then that the 
 army, after several hasty marches, finding itself at 
 Ghent, the Elector of Bavaria had insisted that it 
 ought at least to remain there. A council of war was 
 held, the Marechal de Villeroy, who was quite dis- 
 couraged by the loss he had sustained, opposed the 
 advice of the Elector. Ghent was abandoned, so was 
 the open country. The army was separated and dis- 
 tributed here and there, under the command of the 
 general officers. In this way, with the exception of 
 Namur, Mons, and a very few other places, all the 
 Spanish Low Countries were lost, and a part of ours, 
 even. Never was rapidity equal to this. The ene- 
 mies were as much astonished as we. 
 
 However tranquilly the King sustained in appear- 
 ance this misfortune, he felt it to the quick. He was 
 so affected by what was said of his body-guards, that 
 he spoke of them himself with bitterness. Court war- 
 riors testified in their favour, but persuaded nobody. 
 But the King seized these testimonies with joy, and 
 sent word to the Guards that he was well contented 
 with them. Others, however, were not so easily satis- 
 fied. 
 
 This sad reverse and the discontent of the Elector 
 made the King feel at last that his favourites must 
 give way to those better able to fill their places. 
 Villeroy who, since his defeat, had quite lost his head, 
 and who, if he had been a general of the Empire would 
 have lost it in reality in another manner, received 
 several strong hints from the King that he ought to 
 give up his command. But he either could not or
 
 Saint-Simon 
 
 81 
 
 would not understand them, and so tired out the King's 
 patience, at length. But he was informed in language 
 which admitted of no misapprehension that he must 
 return. Even then, the King was so kindly disposed 
 towards him, that he said the Marechal had begged to 
 be recalled with such obstinacy that he could not re- 
 fuse him. But AI. de Villeroy was absurd enough to 
 reject this salve for his honour; which led to his dis- 
 grace. M. de Vendome had orders to leave Italy, and 
 succeed to the command in Flanders, where the ene- 
 mies had very promptly taken Ostend and Nieuport. 
 
 VOL. II. 6
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Abandonment of the Siege of Barcelona Affairs of Italy 
 La Feuillade Disastrous Rivalries Conduct of M. d'Or- 
 leans The Siege of Turin Battle Victory of Prince 
 Eugene Insubordination in the Army Retreat M. d'Or- 
 leans Returns to Court Disgrace of La Feuillade. 
 
 M 
 
 EANWHILE, as I have promised to relate, in 
 a continuous narrative, all our military opera- 
 tions of this year, let me say what passed in other 
 directions. The siege of Barcelona made no progress. 
 Our engineers were so slow and so ignorant, that they 
 did next to nothing. They were so venal, too, that 
 they aided the enemy rather than us by their move- 
 ments. According to a new rule made by the King, 
 whenever they changed the position of their guns, they 
 were entitled to a pecuniary recompense. Accord- 
 ingly, they passed all their time in uselessly changing 
 about from place to place, in order to receive the 
 recompense which thus became due to them. 
 
 Our fleet, too, hearing that a much superior naval 
 force was coming to the assistance of the enemy, and 
 being, thanks to Pontchartrain, utterly unable to meet 
 it, was obliged to weigh anchor, and sailed away to 
 Toulon. The enemy's fleet arrived, and the besieged 
 
 82
 
 Saint-Simon 83 
 
 at once took new courage. Tesse, who had joined the 
 siege, saw at once that it was useless to continue it. 
 \Ye had for some time depended upon the open sea 
 for supplies. Now that the English fleet had arrived, 
 we could depend upon the sea no longer. The King of 
 Spain saw, at last, that there was no help for it but to 
 raise the siege. 
 
 It was raised accordingly on the night between the 
 loth and nth of May, after fourteen days' bombard- 
 ment. \Ye abandoned one hundred pieces of artillery ; 
 one hundred and fifty thousand pounds of powder ; 
 thirty thousand sacks of flour ; twenty thousand sacks 
 of sci'ddc, a kind of oats ; and a great number of bombs, 
 cannon-balls, and implements. As Catalonia was in 
 revolt, it was felt that retreat could not take place in 
 that direction ; it was determined, therefore, to retire 
 by the way of the French frontier. For eight days, 
 however, our troops were harassed in flank and rear by 
 Miquelets, who followed us from mountain to moun- 
 tain. It was not until the Due de Xoailles, whose 
 father had done some service to the chiefs of these 
 Miquelets, had parleyed with them, and made terms 
 with them, that our troops were relieved from these 
 cruel wasps. \Ye suffered much loss in our retreat, 
 which, with the siege, cost us full four thousand men. 
 The army stopped at Roussillon, and the King of Spain, 
 escorted by two regiments of dragoons, made the best 
 of his way to Madrid. That city was itself in danger 
 from the Portuguese, and, indeed, fell into their hands 
 soon after. The Queen, who, with her children, had 
 left it in time to avoid capture, felt matters to be in 
 such extremity, that she despatched all the jewels be-
 
 84 Memoirs of 
 
 longing to herself and her husband to France. They 
 were placed in the custody of the King. Among them 
 was that famous pear-shaped pearl called the Peregrine, 
 which, for its weight, its form, its size, and its water, 
 is beyond all price and all comparison. 
 
 The King of Spain effected a junction with the army 
 of Berwick, and both set to work to reconquer the 
 places the Portuguese had taken from them. In this 
 they were successful. The Portuguese, much harassed 
 by the people of Castille, were forced to abandon all 
 they had gained ; and the King of Spain was enabled 
 to enter Madrid towards the end of September, where 
 he was received with much rejoicing. 
 
 In Italy we experienced the most disastrous mis- 
 fortunes. M. de Vendome, having been called from 
 the command to go into Flanders, M. d'Orleans, after 
 some deliberation, was appointed to take his place. 
 M. d'Orleans set out from Paris on the ist of July, 
 with twenty-eight horses and five chaises, to arrive in 
 three days at Lyons, and then to hasten on into Italy. 
 La Feuillade was besieging Turin. M. d'Orleans 
 went to the siege. He was magnificently received by 
 La Feuillade, and shown all over the works. He 
 found everything defective. La Feuillade was very 
 young, and very inexperienced. I have already re- 
 lated an adventure of his, that of his seizing upon the 
 coffers of his uncle, and so forestalling his inheritance. 
 To recover from the disgrace this occurrence brought 
 upon him, he had married a daughter of Chamillart. 
 Favoured by this minister, but coldly looked upon by 
 the King, he had succeeded in obtaining command in 
 the army, and had been appointed to conduct this
 
 Saint-Simon 85 
 
 siege. Inflated by the importance of his position, and 
 by the support of Chamillart, he would listen to no 
 advice from any one. M. d'Orleans attempted to 
 bring about some changes, and gave orders to that 
 effect. But as soon as he was gone, La Feuillade 
 countermanded those orders and had everything his 
 own way. The siege accordingly went on with the 
 same ill-success as before. 
 
 M. d'Orleans joined M. de Yendome on the I7th 
 of July, upon the Mincio. The pretended hero had 
 just made some irreparable faults. He had allowed 
 Prince Eugene to pass the Po, nearly in front of him, 
 and nobody knew what had become of twelve of our 
 battalions posted near the place where this passage 
 had been made. Prince Eugene had taken all the 
 boats that we had upon the river. We could not cross 
 it, therefore, and follow the enemy without making a 
 bridge. Yendome feared lest his faults should be per- 
 ceived. He wished that his successor should remain 
 charged with them. M. d'Orleans, indeed, soon saw 
 all the faults that M. de Yendome had committed, and 
 tried hard to induce the latter to aid him to repair 
 them. But M. de Yendome would not listen to his 
 representations, and started away almost immediately 
 to take the command of the army in Flanders, leaving 
 M. d'Orleans to get out of the difficulty as he might. 
 
 M. d'Orleans, abandoned to himself (except when 
 interfered with by Marechal de Marsin, under whose 
 tutelage he was), could do nothing. He found as 
 much opposition to his plans from Marsin as he had 
 found from M. de Yendume. Marsin wished to keep 
 in the good graces of La Feuillade, son-in-law of the
 
 86 Memoirs of 
 
 all-powerful minister, and would not adopt the views 
 of M. d'Orleans. This latter had proposed to dispute 
 the passage of the Tanaro, a confluent of the Po, with 
 the enemy, or compel them to accept battle. An in- 
 tercepted letter, in cypher, from Prince Eugene to the 
 Emperor, which fell into our hands, proved, subse- 
 quently, that this course would have been the right 
 one to adopt ; but the proof came too late ; the de- 
 cyphering table having been forgotten at Versailles ! 
 M. d'Orleans had in the mean time been forced to lead 
 his army to Turin, to assist the besiegers, instead of 
 waiting to stop the passage of the troops that were 
 destined for the aid of the besieged. He arrived at 
 Turin on the 28th of August, in the evening. La 
 Feuillade, now under two masters, grew, it might be 
 imagined, more docile. But no ! He allied himself 
 with Marsin (without whom M. d'Orleans could do 
 nothing), and so gained him over that they acted com- 
 pletely in accord. When M. d'Orleans was convinced, 
 soon after his arrival, that the enemy was approaching 
 to succour Turin, he suggested that they should be 
 opposed as they attempted the passage of the Dora. 
 But his advice was not listened to. He was displeased 
 with everything. He found that all the orders he had 
 given had been disregarded. He found the siege 
 works bad, imperfect, very wet, and very ill-guarded. 
 He tried to remedy all these defects, but he was op- 
 posed at every step. A council of war was held. M. 
 d'Orleans stated his views, but all the officers present, 
 with one honourable exception, servilely chimed in 
 with the views of Marsin and La Feuillade, and things 
 remained as they were. M. d'Orleans, thereupon,
 
 Saint-Simon 87 
 
 protested that he washed his hands of all the misfort- 
 unes that might happen in consequence of his advice 
 being neglected. He declared that as he was no longer 
 master over anything, it was not just that he should 
 bear any part of the blame which would entail to those 
 in command. He asked, therefore, for his postchaise, 
 and wished immediately to quit the army. La Feuil- 
 lade and Alarsin, however, begged him to remain, and 
 upon second thoughts he thought it better to do so. 
 The simple reason of all this opposition was, that La 
 Feuillade, being very young and very vain, wished to 
 have all the honours of the siege. He was afraid that 
 if the counsel of M. d'Orleans prevailed, some of that 
 honour would be taken from him. This was the real 
 reason, and to this France owes the disastrous failure 
 of the siege of Turin. 
 
 After the council of war, M. d'Orleans ceased to take 
 any share in the command, walked about or stopped 
 at home, like a man who had nothing to do with what 
 was passing around him. On the night of the 6th 
 to the 7th of September, he rose from his bed alarmed 
 by information sent to him in a letter, that Prince 
 Eugene was about to attack the castle of Pianezza, in 
 order to cross the Dora, and so proceed to attack the 
 besiegers. He hastened at once to Alarsin, showed 
 him the letter, and recommended that troops should 
 at once be sent to dispute the passage of a brook that 
 the enemies had yet to cross, even supposing them to 
 be masters of Pianezza. Even as he was speaking, 
 confirmation of the intelligence he had received was 
 brought by one of our officers. But it was resolved, 
 in the Eternal decrees, that France should be struck to 
 the heart that day.
 
 88 Memoirs of 
 
 Marsin would listen to none of the arguments of 
 M. d'Orleans. He maintained that it would be unsafe 
 to leave the lines ; that the news was false ; that Prince 
 Eugene could not possibly arrive so promptly ; he 
 would give no orders ; and he counselled M. d'Orleans 
 to go back to bed. The Prince, more piqued and more 
 disgusted than ever, retired to his quarters fully re- 
 solved to abandon everything to the blind and deaf, 
 who would neither see nor hear. 
 
 Soon after entering his chamber the news spread 
 from all parts of the arrival of Prince Eugene. He did 
 not stir. Some general officers came, and forced him 
 to mount his horse. He went forth negligently at a 
 walking pace. What had taken place during the previ- 
 ous days had made so much noise that even the com- 
 mon soldiers were ashamed of it. They liked him, 
 and murmured because he would no longer command 
 them. One of them called him by his name, and asked 
 him if he refused them his sword. This question did 
 more than all that the general officers had been able 
 to do. M. d'Orleans replied to the soldier, that he 
 would not refuse to serve them, and at once resolved 
 to lend all his aid to Marsin and La Feuillade. 
 
 But it was no longer possible to leave the lines. The 
 enemy was in sight, and advanced so diligently, that 
 there was no time to make arrangements. Marsin, 
 more dead than alive, was incapable of giving any 
 order or any advice. But La Feuillade still persevered 
 in his obstinacy. He disputed the orders of the Due 
 d'Orleans, and prevented their execution, possessed 
 by I know not what demon. 
 
 The attack was commenced about ten o'clock in the
 
 Saint-Simon 89 
 
 morning, was pushed with incredible vigour, and sus- 
 tained, at first, in the same manner. Prince Eugene 
 poured his troops into those places which the small- 
 ness of our forces had compelled us to leave open. 
 Marsin, towards the middle of the battle, received a 
 wound which incapacitated him from further service, 
 and was taken prisoner immediately after. La Feuil- 
 lade ran about like a madman, tearing his hair, and 
 incapable of giving any order. The Due d'Orleans 
 preserved his coolness, and did wonders to save the 
 day. Finding our men beginning to waver, he called 
 the officers by their names, aroused the soldiers by his 
 voice, and himself led the squadrons and battalions to 
 the charge. Vanquished at last by pain, and weakened 
 by the blood he had lost, he was constrained to retire 
 a little, to have his wounds dressed. He scarcely gave 
 himself time for this, however, but returned at once 
 where the fire was hottest. Three times the enemy 
 had been repulsed, and their guns spiked by one of 
 our officers, Le Guerchois, with his brigade of the old 
 marine, when, enfeebled by the losses he had sustained, 
 he called upon a neighbouring brigade to advance with 
 him to oppose a number of fresh battalions the enemy 
 had sent against him. This brigade and its brigadier 
 refused bluntly to aid him. It was positively known 
 afterwards, that had Le Guerchois sustained this fourth 
 charge, Prince Eugene would have retreated. 
 
 This was the last moment of the little order that 
 there had been at this battle. All that followed was 
 only trouble, confusion, disorder, flight, discomfiture. 
 The most terrible thing is, that the general officers, 
 with but few exceptions, more intent upon their equi-
 
 90 Memoirs of 
 
 page and upon what they had saved by pillage, added 
 to the confusion instead of diminishing it, and were 
 worse than useless. 
 
 M. d'Orleans, convinced at last that it was impossi- 
 ble to re-establish the day, thought only how to retire 
 as advantageously as possible. He withdrew his light 
 artillery, his ammunition, everything that was at the 
 siege, even at the most advanced of its works, and at- 
 tended to everything with a presence of mind that 
 allowed nothing to escape him. Then, gathering 
 round him all the officers he could collect, he explained 
 to them that nothing but retreat was open to them, 
 and that the road to Italy was that which they ought 
 to pursue. By this means they would leave the vic- 
 torious army of the enemy in a country entirely ruined 
 and desolate, and hinder it from returning into Italy, 
 where the army of the King, on the contrary, would 
 have abundance, and where it would cut off all succour 
 from the others. 
 
 This proposition dismayed to the last degree our 
 officers, who hoped at least to reap the fruit of this 
 disaster by returning to France with the money with 
 which they were gorged. La Feuillade opposed it 
 with so much impatience, that the Prince, exasperated 
 by an effrontery so sustained, told him to hold his 
 peace and let others speak. Others did speak, but 
 only one was for following the counsel of M. d'Orleans. 
 Feeling himself now, however, the master, he stopped 
 all further discussion, and gave orders that the retreat 
 to Italy should commence. This was all he could do. 
 His body and his brain were equally exhausted. After 
 having waited some little time, he was compelled to
 
 Saint-Simon 91 
 
 throw himself into a post-chaise, and in that to con- 
 tinue the journey. 
 
 The officers obeyed his orders most unwillingly. 
 They murmured amongst each other so loudly that 
 the Due d'Orleans, justly irritated by so much oppo- 
 sition to his will, made them hold their peace. The 
 retreat continued. But it was decreed that the spirit 
 of error and vertigo should ruin us and save the allies. 
 As the army was about to cross the bridge over the 
 Ticino, and march into Italy, information was brought 
 to M. d'Orleans, that the enemy occupied the roads 
 by which it was indispensable to pass. M. d'Orleans, 
 not believing this intelligence, persisted in going for- 
 ward. Our officers, thus foiled, for it was known 
 afterwards that the story was their invention, and that 
 the passes were entirely free, hit upon another expe- 
 dient. They declared there was no more provisions 
 or ammunition, and that it was accordingly impossible 
 to go into Italy. M. d'Orleans, worn out by so much 
 criminal disobedience, and weakened by his wound, 
 could hold out no longer. He threw himself back in 
 the chaise, and said they might go where they would. 
 The army therefore turned about, and directed itself 
 towards Pignerol, losing many equipages from our 
 rear-guard during the night in the mountains, al- 
 though that rear-guard was protected by Albergotti, 
 and was not annoyed by the enemy. 
 
 The joy of the enemy at their success was un- 
 bounded. They could scarcely believe in it. Their 
 army was just at its last gasp. They had not more 
 than four days' supply of powder left in the place. 
 After the victory, M. de Savoie and Prince Eugene
 
 92 Memoirs of 
 
 lost no time in idle rejoicings. They thought only 
 how to profit by a success so unheard of and so unex- 
 pected. They retook rapidly all the places in Pied- 
 mont and Lombardy that we occupied, and we had 
 no power to prevent them. 
 
 Never battle cost fewer soldiers than that of Turin ; 
 never was retreat more undisturbed than ours ; yet 
 never were results more frightful or more rapid. 
 Ramillies, with a light loss, cost the Spanish Low 
 Countries and part of ours : Turin cost all Italy by the 
 ambition of La Feuillade, the incapacity of Marsin, 
 the avarice, the trickery, the disobedience of the gen- 
 eral officers opposed to M. d'Orleans. So complete 
 was the rout of our army, that it was found impossible 
 to restore it sufficiently to send it back to Italy, not at 
 least before the following spring. M. d'Orleans re- 
 turned therefore to Versailles, on Monday, the 8th of 
 November, and was well received by the King. La 
 Feuillade arrived on Monday, the i3th of December, 
 having remained several days at Paris without daring 
 to go to Versailles. He was taken to the King by 
 Chamillart. As soon as the King saw them enter he 
 rose, went to the door, and without giving them time 
 to utter a word, said to La Feuillade, " Monsieur, we 
 are both very unfortunate ! " and instantly turned his 
 back upon him. La Feuillade, on the threshold of 
 the door that he had not had time to cross, left the 
 place immediately, without having dared to say a single 
 word. The King always afterwards turned his eyes 
 from La Feuillade, and would never speak to him. 
 Such was the fall of this Phaeton. He saw that he had 
 no more hope, and retired from the army ; although
 
 Saint-Simon 
 
 93 
 
 there was no baseness that he did not afterwards em- 
 ploy to return to command. I think there never was 
 a more wrong-headed man or a man more radically 
 dishonest, even to the marrow of his bones. As for 
 Marsin, he died soon after his capture, from the effect 
 of his wounds.* 
 
 * It may be as well to remind the reader that the Due d'Or!6ans who 
 figures in this Chapter is the same known as the Due de Chartres in 
 the former part of this volume afterwards Regent of France.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Measures of Economy Financial Embarrassments The King 
 and Chamillart Tax on Baptisms and Marriages Vauban's 
 Patriotism Its Punishment My Action with M. de Bris- 
 sac I Appeal to the King The Result I Gain my Action. 
 
 SUCH was our military history of the year 1706 a 
 history of losses and dishonour. It may be 
 imagined in what condition was the exchequer with 
 so many demands upon its treasures. For the last 
 two or three years the King had been obliged, on 
 account of the expenses of the war, and the losses we 
 had sustained, to cut down the presents that he made 
 at the commencement of the year. Thirty-five thou- 
 sand louis in gold was the sum he ordinarily spent in 
 this manner. This year, 1707, he diminished it by 
 ten thousand louis. It was upon Madame de Monte- 
 span that the blow fell. Since she had quitted the 
 Court the King gave her twelve thousand louis of 
 gold each year. This year he sent word to her that 
 he could only give her eight. Madame de Montespan 
 testified not the least surprise. She replied, that she 
 was only sorry for the poor, to whom indeed she gave 
 with profusion. A short time after the King had made 
 this reduction, that is, on the 8th of January, 
 Madame La Duchesse de Bourgogne gave birth to a 
 
 94
 
 Saint-Simon 95 
 
 son. The joy was great, but the King prohibited all 
 those expenses which had been made at the birth of 
 the first-born of Madame de Bourgogne, and which 
 had amounted to a large sum. The want of money 
 indeed made itself felt so much at this time, that the 
 King was obliged to seek for resources as a private 
 person might have done. A mining speculator, named 
 Rodes, having pretended that he had discovered many 
 veins of gold in the Pyrenees, assistance was given him 
 in order that he might bring these treasures to light. 
 He declared that with eighteen hundred workmen he 
 would furnish a million (francs' worth of gold) each 
 week. Fifty-two millions a-year would have been a 
 fine increase of revenue. However, after waiting some 
 little time, no gold was forthcoming, and the money 
 that had been spent to assist this enterprise was found 
 to be pure loss. 
 
 The difficulty of finding money to carry on the af- 
 fairs of the nation continued to grow so irksome that 
 Chamillart, who had both the finance and the war de- 
 partments under his control, was unable to stand 
 against the increased trouble and vexation which this 
 state of things brought him. More than once he had 
 represented that this double work was too much for 
 him. But the King had in former times expressed so 
 much annoyance from the troubles that arose between 
 the finance and war departments, that he would not 
 separate them, after having once joined them together. 
 At last, Chamillart could bear up against his heavy 
 load no longer. The vapours seized him : he had at- 
 tacks of giddiness in the head ; his digestion was ob- 
 structed ; he grew thin as a lath. He wrote again to
 
 96 Memoirs of 
 
 the King, begging to be released from his duties, and 
 frankly stated that, in the state he was, if some relief 
 was not afforded him, everything would go wrong and 
 perish. He always left a large margin to his letters, 
 and upon this the King generally wrote his reply. 
 Chamillart showed me this letter when it came back 
 to him, and I saw upon it with great surprise, in the 
 handwriting of the King, this short note : " Well ! let 
 us perish together." 
 
 The necessity for money had now become so great, 
 that all sorts of means were adopted to obtain it. 
 Amongst other things, a tax was established upon 
 baptisms and marriages. This tax was extremely 
 onerous and odious. The result of it was a strange 
 confusion. Poor people, and many of humble means, 
 baptised their children themselves, without carrying 
 them to the church, and were married at home by 
 reciprocal consent and before witnesses, when they 
 could find no priest who would marry them without 
 formality. In consequence of this there were no 
 longer any baptismal extracts ; no longer any certainty 
 as to baptisms or births ; and the children of the mar- 
 riages solemnised in the way I have stated above were 
 illegitimate in the eyes of the law. Researches and 
 rigours in respect to abuses so prejudicial were re- 
 doubled therefore ; that is to say, they were redoubled 
 for the purpose of collecting the tax. 
 
 From public cries and murmurs the people in some 
 places passed to sedition. Matters went so far at 
 Cahors, that two battalions which were there had great 
 difficulty in holding the town against the armed peas- 
 ants ; and troops intended for Spain were obliged to be
 
 Saint-Simon 97 
 
 sent there. It was found necessary to suspend the 
 operation of the tax, but it was with great trouble that 
 the movement of Quercy was put down, and the 
 peasants, who had armed and collected together, in- 
 duced to retire into their villages. In Perigord they 
 rose, pillaged the bureaux, and rendered themselves 
 masters of a little town and some castles, and forced 
 some gentlemen to put themselves at their head. They 
 declared publicly that they would pay the old taxes to 
 King, curate, and lord, but that they would pay no 
 more, or hear a word of any other taxes or vexation. 
 In the end it was found necessary to drop this tax 
 upon baptism and marriages, to the great regret of 
 the tax-gatherers, who, by all manner of vexations and 
 rogueries, had enriched themselves cruelly. 
 
 It was at this time, and in consequence, to some 
 extent, of these events, that a man who had acquired 
 the highest distinction in France was brought to the 
 tomb in bitterness and grief, for that which in any 
 other country would have covered him with honour. 
 Yauban, for it is to him that I allude, patriot as he was, 
 had all his life been touched with the misery of the 
 people and the vexations they suffered. The knowl- 
 edge that his offices gave him of the necessity for 
 expense, the little hope he had that the King would 
 retrench in matters of splendour and amusement, made 
 him groan to see no remedy to an oppression which 
 increased in weight from day to clay. Feeling this, he 
 made no journey that he did not collect information 
 upon the value and produce of the land, upon the trade 
 and industry of the towns and provinces, on the nature 
 of the imposts, and the manner of collecting them. 
 VOL. II. 7
 
 98 Memoirs of 
 
 Not content with this, he secretly sent to such places 
 as he could not visit himself, or even to those he had 
 visited, to instruct him in everything, and compare 
 the reports he received with those he had himself made. 
 The last twenty years of his life were spent in these 
 researches, and at considerable cost to himself. In 
 the end, he convinced himself that the land was the 
 only real wealth, and he set himself to work to form 
 a new system. 
 
 He had already made much progress, when several 
 little books appeared by Boisguilbert, lieutenant-gen- 
 eral at Rouen, who long since had had the same views 
 as Vauban, and had wanted to make them known. 
 From this labour had resulted a learned and profound 
 book, in which a system was explained by which the 
 people could be relieved of all the expenses they sup- 
 ported, and from every tax, and by which the revenue 
 collected would go at once into the treasury of the 
 King, instead of enriching, first the traitants, the in- 
 tendants, and the finance ministers. These latter, 
 therefore, were opposed to the system, and their oppo- 
 sition, as will be seen, was of no slight consequence. 
 
 Vauban read this book with much attention. He 
 differed on some points \vith the author, but agreed 
 with him in the main. Boisguilbert wished to pre- 
 serve some imposts upon foreign commerce and upon 
 provisions. Vauban wished to abolish all imposts, and 
 to substitute for them two taxes, one upon the land, 
 the other upon trade and industry. His book, in which 
 he put forth these ideas, was full of information and 
 figures, all arranged with the utmost clearness, sim- 
 plicity, and exactitude.
 
 Saint-Simon 99 
 
 But it had a grand fault. It described a course 
 which, if followed, would have ruined an army of finan- 
 ciers, of clerks, of functionaries of all kinds ; it would 
 have forced them to live at their own expense, instead 
 of at the expense of the people ; and it would have 
 sapped the foundations of those immense fortunes 
 that are seen to grow up in such a short time. This 
 was enough to cause its failure. 
 
 All the people interested in opposing the work set 
 up a cry. They saw place, power, everything, about to 
 fly from their grasp, if the counsels of Vauban were 
 acted upon. What wonder, then, that the King, who 
 was surrounded by these people, listened to their rea- 
 sons, and received with a very ill grace Marechal Yau- 
 ban when he presented his book to him. The minis- 
 ters, it may well be believed, did not give him a better 
 welcome. From that moment his services, his military 
 capacity (unique of its kind), his virtues, the affection 
 the King had had for him, all were forgotten. The 
 King saw only in Marechal Yauban a man led astray 
 by love for the people, a criminal who attacked the au- 
 thority of the ministers, and consequently that of the 
 King. He explained himself to this effect without 
 scruple. 
 
 The unhappy Marechal could not survive the loss of 
 his royal master's favour, or stand up against the en- 
 mity the King's explanations had created against him; 
 he died a few months after consumed with grief, and 
 with an affliction nothing could soften, and to which 
 the King was insensible to such a point, that he made 
 semblance of not perceiving that he had lost a servitor 
 so useful and so illustrious. Vauban, justly celebrated
 
 ioo Memoirs of 
 
 over all Europe, was regretted in France by all who 
 were not financiers or their supporters. 
 
 Boisguilbert, whom this event ought to have ren- 
 dered wise, could not contain himself. One of the ob- 
 jections which had been urged against his theories, was 
 the difficulty of carrying out changes in the midst of a 
 great war. He now published a book refuting this 
 point, and describing such a number of abuses then ex- 
 isting, to abolish which, he asked, was it necessary to 
 wait for peace, that the ministers were outraged. Bois- 
 guilbert was exiled to Auvergne. I did all in my power 
 to revoke this sentence, having known Boisguilbert at 
 Rouen, but did not succeed until the end of two months. 
 He was then allowed to return to Rouen, but was se- 
 verely reprimanded, and stripped of his functions for 
 some little time. He was amply indemnified, however, 
 for this by the crowd of people, and the acclamations 
 with which he \vas received. 
 
 It is due to Chamillart to say, that he was the only 
 minister who had listened with any attention to these 
 new systems of Vauban and Boisguilbert. He indeed 
 made trial of the plans suggested by the former, but 
 the circumstances were not favourable to his success, 
 and they of course failed. Some time after, instead of 
 following the system of Vauban, and reducing the im- 
 posts, fresh ones were added. Who would have said 
 to the Marechal that all his labours for the relief of the 
 people of France would lead to new imposts, more 
 harsh, more permanent, and more heavy than he pro- 
 tested against? It is a terrible lesson against all im- 
 provements in matters of taxation and finance. 
 
 But it is time, now, that I should retrace my steps
 
 Saint-Simon 101 
 
 to other matters, which, if related in due order of time, 
 should have found a place ere this. And first, let me 
 relate the particulars concerning a trial in which I was 
 engaged, and which I have deferred allusion to until 
 now, so as not to entangle the thread of my narrative. 
 
 My sister, as I have said in its proper place, had mar- 
 ried the Due de Brissac, and the marriage had not been 
 a happy one. After a time, in fact, they separated. My 
 sister at her death left me her universal legatee; and 
 shortly after this, M. de Brissac brought an action 
 against me on her account for five hundred thousand 
 francs. After his death, his representatives continued 
 the action, which I resisted, not only maintaining that 
 I owed none of the five hundred thousand francs, but 
 claiming to have two hundred thousand owing to me, 
 out of six hundred thousand which had formed the 
 dowry of my sister. 
 
 When M. de Brissac died, there seemed some prob- 
 ability that his peerage would become extinct; for the 
 Comte de Cosse, who claimed to succeed him, was op- 
 posed by a number of peers, and but for me might have 
 failed to establish his pretensions. I, however, as his 
 claim was just, interested myself in him, supported him 
 with all my influence, and gained for him the support 
 of several influential peers: so that in the end he was 
 recognised as Due de Brissac, and received as such at 
 the parliament on the 6th of May, 1700. 
 
 Having succeeded thus to the titles and estates of his 
 predecessor, he succeeded also to his liabilities, debts, 
 and engagements. Among these was the trial against 
 me for five hundred thousand francs. Cosse felt so 
 thoroughly that he owed his rank to me, that he offered
 
 IO2 Memoirs of 
 
 to give me five hundred thousand francs, so as to in- 
 demnify me against an adverse decision in the cause. 
 Now, as I have said, I not only resisted this demand 
 made upon me for five hundred thousand francs, but 
 I, in my turn, claimed two hundred thousand francs, 
 and my claim, once admitted, all the personal creditors 
 of the late Due de Brissac (creditors who, of course, had 
 to be paid by the new Duke), would have been forced to 
 stand aside until my debt was settled. 
 
 I, therefore, refused this offer of Cosse, lest other 
 creditors should hear of the arrangement, and force him 
 to make a similar one with them. He was over- 
 whelmed with a generosity so little expected, and we 
 became more intimately connected from that day. 
 
 Cosse, once received as Due de Brissac, I no longer 
 feared to push forward the action I had commenced 
 for the recovery of the two hundred thousand francs 
 due to me, and which I had interrupted only on his 
 account. I had gained it twice running against the 
 late Due de Brissac, at the parliament of Rouen; but 
 the Duchesse d'Aumont, who in the last years of his 
 life had lent him money, and whose debt was in danger, 
 succeeded in getting this cause sent up for appeal to the 
 parliament at Paris, where she threw obstacle upon ob- 
 stacle in its path, and caused judgment to be delayed 
 month after month. When I came to take active steps 
 in the matter, my surprise to use no stronger word 
 was great, to find Cosse, after all I had done for him, 
 favouring the pretensions of the Duchesse d'Aumont, 
 and lending her his aid to establish them. However, 
 he and the Duchesse d'Aumont lost their cause, for 
 when it was submitted to the judges of the council at
 
 Saint-Simon 103 
 
 Paris, it was sent back to Rouen, and they had to pay 
 damages and expenses. 
 
 For years the affair had been ready to be judged at 
 Rouen, but M. d'Aumont every year, by means of his 
 letters of state, obtained a postponement. At last, how- 
 ever, M. d'Aumont died, and I was assured that the 
 letters of state should not be again produced, and that 
 in consequence no further adjournment should take 
 place. I and Madame de Saint-Simon at once set out, 
 therefore, for Rouen, where we were exceedingly well 
 received, fetes and entertainments being continually 
 given in our honour. 
 
 After we had been there but eight or ten days, I re- 
 ceived a letter from Pontchartrain, who sent me word 
 that the King had learnt with surprise I was at Rouen, 
 and had charged him to ask me why I was there: so 
 attentive was the King as to what became of the peo- 
 ple of mark, he was accustomed to see around him! 
 My reply was not difficult. 
 
 Meanwhile our cause proceeded. The parliament, 
 that is to say, the Grand Chamber, suspended all other 
 business in order to finish ours. The affair was already 
 far advanced, when it was interrupted by an obstacle, 
 of all obstacles, the least possible to foresee. The let- 
 ters of state had again been put in, for the purpose of 
 obtaining another adjournment. 
 
 My design is not to weary by recitals, which interest 
 only myself; but I must explain this matter fully. It 
 was Monday evening. The parliament of Rouen ended 
 on the following Saturday. If we waited until the 
 opening of the next parliament, we should have to be- 
 gin our cause from the beginning, and with new presi-
 
 IO4 Memoirs of 
 
 dents and judges, who would know nothing of the facts. 
 What was to be done? To appeal to the King seemed 
 impossible, for he was at Marly, and, while there, never 
 listened to such matters. By the time he left Marly, 
 it would be too late to apply to him. 
 
 Madame de Saint-Simon and others advised me, 
 however, at all hazards, to go straight to the King, in- 
 stead of sending a courier, as I thought of doing, and 
 to keep my journey secret. I followed their advice, and 
 setting out at once, arrived at Marly on Tuesday morn- 
 ing, the 8th of August, at eight of the clock. The 
 Chancellor and Chamillart, to whom I told my errand, 
 pitied me, but gave me no hope of success. Never- 
 theless, a council of state was to be held on the follow- 
 ing morning, presided over by the King, and my peti- 
 tion was laid before it. The letters of state were 
 thrown out by every voice. This information was 
 brought to me at mid-day. I partook of a hasty din- 
 ner, and turned back to Rouen, where I arrived on 
 Thursday, at eight o'clock in the morning, three hours 
 after a courier, by whom I had sent this unhoped-for 
 news. 
 
 I brought with me, besides the order respecting the 
 letters of state, an order to the parliament to proceed to 
 judgment at once. It was laid before the judges very 
 early on Saturday, the nth of August, the last day of 
 the parliament. From four o'clock in the morning we 
 had an infinite number of visitors, wanting to accom- 
 pany us to the palace. The parliament had been much 
 irritated against these letters of state, after having sus- 
 pended all other business for us. The withdrawal of 
 these letters was now announced. We gained our
 
 Saint-Simon 105 
 
 cause, with penalties and expenses, amid acclamations 
 which resounded through the court, and which followed 
 us into the streets. We could scarcely enter our street, 
 so full was it with the crowd, or our house, which was 
 equally crowded. Our kitchen chimney soon after took 
 fire, and it was only a marvel that it was extinguished, 
 without damage, after having strongly warned us, and 
 turned our joy into bitterness. There was only the 
 master of the house who was unmoved. \Ye dined, 
 however, with a grand company; and after stopping 
 one or two days more to thank our friends, we went to 
 see the sea at Dieppe, and then to Cani, to a beautiful 
 house belonging to our host at Rouen. 
 
 As for Madame d'Aumont, she was furious at the 
 ill-success of her affair. It was she who had obtained 
 the letters of state from the steward of her son-in-law. 
 Her son-in-law had promised me that they should not 
 be used, and wrote at once to say he had had no hand 
 in their production. M. de Brissac, who had been 
 afraid to look me in the face ever since he had taken 
 part in this matter, and with whom I had openly broken, 
 was now so much ashamed that he avoided me every- 
 where.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 My Appointment as Ambassador to Rome How it Fell 
 Through Anecdotes of the Bishop of Orleans A Droll 
 Song A Saint in Spite of Himself Fashionable Crimes 
 A Forged Genealogy Abduction of Beringhen The Par- 
 vulos of Meudon and Mademoiselle Choin. 
 
 IT was just at the commencement of the year 1706, 
 that I received a piece of news which almost took 
 away my breath by its suddenness, and by the surprise 
 it caused me. I was on very intimate terms with Gual- 
 terio, the nuncio of the Pope. Just about this time 
 we were without an ambassador at Rome. The nun- 
 cio spoke to me about this post; but at my age I was 
 but thirty and knowing the unwillingness of the King 
 to employ young men in public affairs, I paid no at- 
 tention to his words. Eight days afterwards he en- 
 tered my chamber one Tuesday, about an hour after 
 mid-day his arms open, joy painted upon his face, 
 and embracing me, told me to shut my door, and even 
 that of my antechamber, so that he should not be seen. 
 I was to go to Rome as ambassador. I made him re- 
 peat this twice over: it seemed so impossible. If one 
 of the portraits in my chamber had spoken to me, I 
 could not have been more surprised. Gualterio 
 begged me to keep the matter secret, saying, that the 
 
 106
 
 Saint-Simon 107 
 
 appointment would be officially announced to me ere 
 long. 
 
 I went immediately and" sought out Chamillart, re- 
 proaching him for not having apprised me of this good 
 news. He smiled at my anger, and said that the King 
 had ordered the news to be kept secret. I admit that 
 I was flattered at being chosen at my age for an em- 
 bassy so important. I was advised on every side to 
 accept it, and this I determined to do. I could not 
 understand, however, how it was I had been selected. 
 Torcy, years afterwards, when the King was dead, re- 
 lated to me how it came about. At this time I had no 
 relations with Torcy; it was not until long afterwards 
 that friendship grew up between us. 
 
 He said, then, that the embassy being vacant, the 
 King wished to fill up that appointment, and wished 
 also that a Duke should be ambassador. He took an 
 almanack and began reading the names of the Dukes, 
 commencing with M. de Uzes. He made no stop un- 
 til he came to my name. Then he said (to Torcy) 
 " What do you think of him? He is young, but he is 
 good," &c. The King after hearing a few opinions 
 expressed by those around him, shut up the almanack, 
 and said it was not worth while to go farther, deter- 
 mined that I should be ambassador, but ordered the 
 appointment to be kept secret. I learnt this, more than 
 ten years after its occurrence, from a true man, who 
 had no longer any interest or reason to disguise any- 
 thing from me. 
 
 Advised on all sides by my friends to accept the post 
 offered to me, I did not long hesitate to do so. Madame 
 de Saint-Simon gave me the same advice, although she
 
 io8 Memoirs of 
 
 herself was pained at the idea of quitting her family. I 
 cannot refuse myself the pleasure of relating here what 
 the three ministers each said of my wife, a woman then 
 of only twenty-seven years of age. All three, unknown 
 to each other, and without solicitation on my part, 
 counselled me to keep none of the affairs of my em- 
 bassy secret from her, but to give her a place at the end 
 of the table when I read or wrote my despatches, and 
 to consult her with deference upon everything. I have 
 rarely so much relished advice as I did in this case. 
 Although, as things fell out, I could not follow it at 
 Rome, I had followed it long before, and continued to 
 do so all my life. I kept nothing secret from her, and 
 I had good reason to be pleased that I did not. Her 
 counsel was always wise, judicious, and useful, and 
 oftentimes she warded off from me many inconven- 
 iences. 
 
 But to continue the narrative of this embassy. It 
 was soon so generally known that I w r as going to Rome, 
 that as we danced at Marly, we heard people say, 
 " Look ! M. 1'Ambassadeur and Madame 1'Ambassa- 
 drice are dancing." After this I wished the announce- 
 ment to be made public as soon as possible, but the 
 King was not to be hurried. Day after day passed by, 
 and still I was kept in suspense. At last, about the 
 middle of April, I had an interview with Chamillart one 
 day, just after he came out of the council at which I 
 knew my fate had been decided. I learnt then that the 
 King had determined to send no ambassador to Rome. 
 The Abbe dc La Tremoille was already there ; he had 
 been made Cardinal, and was to remain and attend to 
 the affairs of the embassy. I found out afterwards that
 
 Saint-Simon 109 
 
 I had reason to attribute to Madame de Maintenon and 
 M. du Maine the change in the King's intention tow- 
 ards me. Madame de Saint-Simon was delighted. It 
 seemed as though she foresaw the strange discredit in 
 which the affairs of the King were going to fall in 
 Italy, the embarrassment and the disorder that public 
 misfortunes would cause the finances, and the cruel 
 situation in which all things would have reduced us at 
 Rome. As for me, I had had so much leisure to con- 
 sole myself beforehand, that I had need of no more. 
 I felt, however, that I had now lost all favour with the 
 King, and, indeed, he estranged himself from me more 
 and more each day. By what means I recovered my- 
 self it is not yet time to tell. 
 
 On the night between the 3rd and 4th of February, 
 Cardinal Coislin, Bishop of Orleans, died. He was a 
 little man, very fat, who looked like a village curate. 
 His purity of manners and his virtues caused him to be 
 much loved. Two good actions of his life deserve to 
 be remembered. 
 
 When, after the revocation of the edict of Nantes, 
 the King determined to convert the Huguenots by 
 means of dragoons and torture, a regiment was sent to 
 Orleans, to be spread abroad in the diocese. As soon 
 as it arrived, M. d'Orleans sent word to the officers that 
 they might make his house their home; that their 
 horses should be lodged in his stables. He begged 
 them not to allow a single one of their men to leave the 
 town, to make the slightest disorder; to say no word 
 to the Huguenots, and not to lodge in their houses. 
 He resolved to be obeyed, and he was. The regiment 
 stayed a month, and cost him a good deal. At the
 
 1 10 Memoirs of 
 
 end of that time he so managed matters that the soldiers 
 were sent away, and none came again. This conduct, 
 so full of charity, so opposed to that of nearly all the 
 other dioceses, gained as many Huguenots as were 
 gained by the barbarities they suffered elsewhere. It 
 needed some courage, to say nothing of generosity, to 
 act thus, and to silently blame, as it were, the conduct 
 of the King. 
 
 The other action of M. d'Orleans was less public and 
 less dangerous, but was not less good. He secretly 
 gave away many alms to the poor, in addition to those 
 he gave publicly. Among those whom he succoured 
 was a poor, broken-down gentleman, without wife or 
 child, to whom he gave four hundred livres of pension, 
 and a place at his table whenever he was at Orleans. 
 One morning the servants of M. d'Orleans told their 
 master that ten pieces of plate were missing, and that 
 suspicion fell upon the gentleman. M. d'Orleans could 
 not believe him guilty, but as he did not make his ap- 
 pearance at the house for several days, was forced at 
 last to imagine he was so. Upon this he sent for the 
 gentleman, who admitted himself to be the offender. 
 M. d'Orleans said he must have been strangely pressed 
 to commit an action of this nature, and reproached him 
 for not having mentioned his wants. Then, drawing 
 twenty louis from his pocket, he gave them to the gen- 
 tleman, told him to forget what had occurred, and to 
 use his table as before. M. d'Orleans prohibited his 
 servants to mention their suspicions, and this anecdote 
 would never have been known, had it not been told by 
 the gentleman himself, penetrated with confusion and 
 gratitude.
 
 Saint-Simon in 
 
 M. d'Orleans, after he became cardinal, was often 
 pressed by his friends to give up his bishopric. But 
 this he would not listen to. The King had for him a 
 respect that was almost devotion. When Madame de 
 Bourgogne was about to be delivered of her first child, 
 the King sent a courier to M. d'Orleans requesting him 
 to come to Court immediately, and to remain there un- 
 til after the delivery. When the child was born, the 
 King would not allow it to be sprinkled by any other 
 hand than that of M. d'Orleans. The poor man, very 
 fat, as I have said, always sweated very much ; on this 
 occasion, wrapped up in his cloak and his lawn, his body 
 ran with sweat in such abundance, that in the ante- 
 chamber the floor was wet all round where he stood. 
 All the Court was much afflicted at his death; the King 
 more than anybody spoke his praises. It was known 
 after his death, from his t'alet de chainbre, that he mor- 
 tified himself continually with instruments of penitence, 
 and that he rose every night and passed an hour on his 
 knees in prayer. He received the sacraments with 
 great piety, and died the night following as he had 
 lived. 
 
 Heudicourt the younger, a species of very mis- 
 chievous satyr, and much mixed up in grand intrigues 
 of gallantry, made, about this time, a song upon the 
 grand prcrot and his family. It was so simple, so true 
 to nature, withal so pleasant, that some one having 
 whispered it in the ear of the Marechal de BoufHers at 
 chapel, he could not refrain from bursting into laugh- 
 ter, although he was in attendance at the mass of the 
 King. The Marechal was the gravest and most serious 
 man in all France; the greatest slave to decorum. The
 
 112 Memoirs of 
 
 King turned round therefore in surprise, which aug- 
 mented considerably when he saw the Marechal de 
 Boufflers nigh to bursting with laughter, and the tears 
 running down his cheeks. On returning into his cabi- 
 net, he called the Marechal, and asked what had put 
 him in that state at the mass. The Marechal repeated 
 the song to him. Thereupon the King burst out louder 
 than the Marechal had, and for a whole fortnight after- 
 wards could not help smiling whenever he saw the 
 grand prci'dt or any of his family. The song soon 
 spread about, and much diverted the Court and the 
 town. 
 
 I should particularly avoid soiling this page with an 
 account of the operation for fistula which Courcillon, 
 only son of Dangeau, had performed upon him, but for 
 the extreme ridicule with which it was accompanied. 
 Courcillon was a dashing young fellow, much given to 
 witty sayings, to mischief, to impiety, and to the filthi- 
 est debauchery, of which latter, indeed, this operation 
 passed publicly as the fruit. His mother, Madame 
 Dangeau, was in the strictest intimacy with Madame de 
 Maintenon. They two alone, of all the Court, were 
 ignorant of the life Courcillon led. Madame was much 
 afflicted; and quitted his bed-side, even for a moment, 
 with pain. Madame de Maintenon entered into her 
 sorrow, and went every day to bear her company at the 
 pillow of Courcillon. Madame d'Heudicourt, another 
 intimate friend of Madame de Maintenon, was admit- 
 ted there also, but scarcely anybody else. Courcillon 
 listened to them, spoke devotionally to them, and ut- 
 tered the reflections suggested by his state. They, all 
 admiration, published everywhere that he was a saint.
 
 Saint-Simon 113 
 
 Madame d'Heudicourt and a few others who listened 
 to these discourses, and who knew the pilgrim well, 
 and saw him loll out his tongue at them on the sly, 
 knew not what to do to prevent their laughter, and as 
 soon as they could get away went and related all they 
 had heard to their friends. Courcillon, who thought 
 it a mighty honour to have Madame de Maintenon 
 every day for nurse, but who, nevertheless, was dying 
 of weariness, used to see his friends in the evening 
 (when Madame de Maintenon and his mother were 
 gone), and would relate to them, with burlesque exag- 
 geration, all the miseries he had suffered during the 
 day, and ridicule the devotional discourses he had 
 listened to. All the time his illness lasted, Madame de 
 Maintenon came every day to see him, so that her cre- 
 dulity, which no one dared to enlighten, was the laugh- 
 ing-stock of the Court. She conceived such a high 
 opinion of the virtue of Courcillon, that she cited him 
 always as an example, and the King also formed the 
 same opinion. Courcillon took good care not to try 
 and cultivate it when he became cured; yet neither the 
 King nor Madame de Maintenon opened their eyes, 
 or changed their conduct towards him. Madame de 
 Maintenon, it must be said, except in the sublime in- 
 trigue of her government and with the King, was al- 
 ways the queen of dupes. 
 
 It would seem that there are, at certain times, 
 fashions in crimes as in clothes. At the period of the 
 Yoysins and the Brinvilliers, there were nothing but 
 poisoners abroad; and against these, a court was ex- 
 pressly instituted, called ardcntc, because it condemned 
 them to the flames. At the time of which I am now 
 VOL. II. 3
 
 1 14 Memoirs of 
 
 speaking, 1703, for I forgot to relate what follows in 
 its proper place, forgers of writings were in the ascen- 
 dant, and became so common, that a chamber was es- 
 tablished composed of councillors of state and others, 
 solely to judge the accusations which this sort of crim- 
 inals gave rise to. 
 
 The Bouillons wished to be recognised as descended, 
 by male issue, of the Counts of Auvergne, and to claim 
 all kinds of distinctions and honours in consequence. 
 They had, however, no proofs of this, but, on the con- 
 trary, their genealogy proved it to be false. All on a 
 sudden, an old document that had been interred in the 
 obscurity of ages in the church of Brioude, was pre- 
 sented to Cardinal Bouillon. It had all the marks of 
 antiquity, and contained a triumphant proof of the de- 
 scent of the house of La Tour, to which the Bouillons 
 belonged, from the ancient Counts of Auvergne. The 
 Cardinal was delighted to have in his hands this pre- 
 cious document. But to avoid all suspicion, he affected 
 modesty, and hesitated to give faith to evidence so de- 
 cisive. He spoke in confidence to all the learned men 
 he knew, and begged them to examine the document 
 with care, so that he might not be the dupe of a too 
 easy belief in it. 
 
 Whether the examiners were deceived by the docu- 
 ment, or whether they allowed themselves to be seduced 
 into believing it, as is more than probable, from fear of 
 giving offence to the Cardinal, need not be discussed. 
 It is enough to say that they pronounced in favour of 
 the deed, and that Father Mabillon, that Benedictine so 
 well known throughout all Europe by his sense and 
 his candour, was led by the others to share their opinion.
 
 Saint-Simon 115 
 
 After this, Cardinal de Bouillon no longer affected 
 any doubt about the authenticity of the discovery. All 
 his friends complimented him upon it, the majority to 
 see how he would receive their congratulations. It was 
 a chaos rather than a mixture, of vanity the most out- 
 rageous, modesty the most affected, and joy the most 
 immoderate which he could not restrain. 
 
 Unfortunately, De Bar, who had found the precious 
 document, and who had presented it to Cardinal de 
 Bouillon, was arrested and put in prison a short time 
 after this, charged with many forgeries. This event 
 made some stir, and caused suspicion to fall upon 
 the document, which was now attentively examined 
 through many new spectacles. Learned men unac- 
 quainted with the Bouillons contested it, and De Bar 
 was so pushed upon this point, that he made many 
 delicate admissions. Alarm at once spread among the 
 Bouillons. They did all in their power to ward off 
 the blow that was about to fall. Seeing the tribunal 
 firm, and fully resolved to follow the affair to the end, 
 they openly solicited for De Bar, and employed all 
 their credit to gain his liberation. At last, rinding the 
 tribunal inflexible, they were reduced to take an ex- 
 treme resolution. M. de Bouillon admitted to the 
 King, that his brother, Cardinal de Bouillon, might, 
 unknown to all of them, have brought forward facts 
 he could not prove. He added, that putting himself 
 in the King's hands, he begged that the affair might 
 be stopped at once, out of consideration for those 
 whose only guilt was too great credulity, and too much 
 confidence in a brother who had deceived them. The 
 King, with more of friendship for M. de Bouillon than
 
 ii6 Memoirs of 
 
 of reflection as to what he owed by way of reparation 
 for a public offence, agreed to this course. 
 
 De Bar, convicted of having fabricated this docu- 
 ment, by his own admission before the public tribunal, 
 was not condemned to death, but to perpetual im- 
 prisonment. As may be believed, this adventure made 
 a great stir ; but what cannot be believed so easily is, 
 the conduct of the Messieurs Bouillon about fifteen 
 months afterwards. 
 
 At the time when the false document above referred 
 to was discovered, Cardinal de Bouillon had commis- 
 sioned Baluze, a man much given to genealogical 
 studies, to write the history of the house of Auvergne. 
 In this history, the descent, by male issue, of the 
 Bouillons from the Counts of Auvergne, was estab- 
 lished upon the evidence supplied by this document. 
 At least, nobody doubted that such was the case, and 
 the world was strangely scandalised to see the \vork 
 appear after that document had been pronounced to be 
 a forgery. Many learned men and friends of Baluze 
 considered him so dishonoured by it, that they broke 
 off all relations with him, and this put the finishing 
 touch to the confusion of this affair. 
 
 On Thursday, the /th of March, 1707, a strange 
 event troubled the King, and filled the Court and the 
 town with rumours. Beringhen, first master of the 
 horse, left Versailles at seven o'clock in the evening of 
 that day, to go to Paris, alone in one of the King's 
 coaches, two of the royal footmen behind, and a groom 
 carrying a torch before him on the seventh horse. The 
 carriage had reached the plain of Bissancourt, and was 
 passing between a farm on the road near Sevres bridge
 
 Saint-Simon 117 
 
 and a cabaret, called the " Dawn of Day," when it was 
 stopped by fifteen or sixteen men on horseback, who 
 seized on Beringhen, hurried him into a post-chaise in 
 waiting, and drove off with him. The King's carriage, 
 with the coachman, footmen, and groom, was allowed 
 to go back to Versailles. As soon as it reached Ver- 
 sailles the King was informed of what had taken place. 
 He sent immediately to his four Secretaries of State, 
 ordering them to send couriers everywhere to the 
 frontiers, with instructions to the governors to guard 
 all the passages, so that if these horsemen were for- 
 eign enemies, as was suspected, they would be caught 
 in attempting to pass out of the kingdom. It was 
 known that a party of the enemy had entered Artois, 
 that they had committed no disorders, but that they 
 were there still. Although people found it difficult, at 
 first, to believe that Beringhen had been carried off by 
 a party such as this, yet as it was known that he had 
 no enemies, that he was not reputed sufficiently rich 
 to afford hope of a large ransom, and that not one of 
 our wealthiest financiers had been seized in this man- 
 ner, this explanation was at last accepted as the right 
 one. 
 
 So in fact it proved. A certain Guetem, a fiddler of 
 the Elector of Bavaria, had entered the service of Hol- 
 land, had taken part in the war against France, and 
 had become a colonel. Chatting one evening with his 
 comrades, he laid a wager that he would carry off some 
 one of mark between Paris and Versailles. He ob- 
 tained a passport, and thirty chosen men, nearly all 
 of whom were officers. They passed the rivers dis- 
 guised as traders, by which means they were enabled
 
 ii8 Memoirs of 
 
 to post their relays [of horses]. Several of them had 
 remained seven or eight days at Sevres, Saint Cloud, 
 and Boulogne, from which they had the hardihood to 
 go to Versailles and see the King sup. One of these 
 was caught on the day after the disappearance of 
 Beringhen, and when interrogated by Chamillart, re- 
 plied with a tolerable amount of impudence. Another 
 was caught in the forest of Chantilly by one of the ser- 
 vants of M. le Prince. From him it became known 
 that relays of horses and a post-chaise had been pro- 
 vided at Morliere for the prisoner when he should ar- 
 rive there, and that he had already passed the Oise. 
 
 As I have said, couriers were despatched to the gov- 
 ernors of the frontiers ; in addition to this, informa- 
 tion of what had taken place w r as sent to all the in- 
 tendants of the frontier, to all the troops in quarters 
 there. Several of the King's guards, too, and the 
 grooms of the stable, went in pursuit of the captors of 
 Beringhen. Notwithstanding the diligence used, the 
 horsemen had traversed the Somme and had gone four 
 leagues beyond Ham Beringhen, guarded by the of- 
 ficers, and pledged to offer no resistance when the 
 party was stopped by a quartermaster and two de- 
 tachments of the Livry regiment. Beringhen was at 
 once set at liberty. Guetem and his companions were 
 made prisoners. 
 
 The grand fault they had committed was to allow 
 the King's carriage and the footmen to go back to Ver- 
 sailles so soon after the abduction. Had they led 
 away the coach under cover of the night, and so kept 
 the King in ignorance of their doings until the next 
 day, they would have had more time for their retreat.
 
 Saint-Simon 119 
 
 Instead of doing this they fatigued themselves by too 
 much haste. They had grown tired of waiting for a 
 carriage that seemed likely to contain somebody of 
 mark. The Chancellor had passed, but in broad day- 
 light, and they were afraid in consequence to stop him. 
 M. le Due d'Orleans had passed, but in a post-chaise, 
 which they mistrusted. At last Beringhen appeared 
 in one of the King's coaches, attended by servants in 
 the King's livery, and wearing his cordon bleu, as was 
 his custom. They thought they had found a prize in- 
 deed. They soon learnt with whom they had to deal, 
 and told him also who they were. Guetem bestowed 
 upon Beringhen all kinds of attention, and testified a 
 great desire to spare him as much as possible all fa- 
 tigue. He pushed his attentions so far that they 
 caused his failure. He allowed Beringhen to stop and 
 rest on two occasions. The party missed one of their 
 relays, and that delayed them very much. 
 
 Beringhen, delighted with his rescue, and very grate- 
 ful for the good treatment he had received, changed 
 places with Guetem and his companions, led them to 
 Ham, and in his turn treated them well. He wrote to 
 his wife and to Chamillart announcing his release, and 
 these letters were read with much satisfaction by the 
 King. 
 
 On Tuesday, the 2Qth of March, Beringhen arrived 
 at Versailles, about eight o'clock in the evening, and 
 went at once to the King, who was in the apartments 
 of Madame de Maintenon, and who received him well, 
 and made him relate all his adventures. But the King 
 was not pleased when he found the officers of the 
 stable in a state of great delight, and preparing fire-
 
 I2O Memoirs of 
 
 works to welcome Beringhen back. He prohibited all 
 these marks of rejoicing, and would not allow the fire- 
 works to be let off. He had these little jealousies. He 
 wished that all should be devoted to him alone, with- 
 out reserve and without division. All the Court, how- 
 ever, showed interest in this return, and Beringhen 
 was consoled by the public welcome he received for 
 his fatigue. 
 
 Guetem and his officers, while waiting the pleasure 
 of the King, were lodged in Beringhen's house in 
 Paris, where they were treated above their deserts. 
 Beringhen obtained permission for Guetem to see the 
 King. He did more ; he presented Guetem to the 
 King, who praised him for having so well treated his 
 prisoner, and said that war always ought to be con- 
 ducted properly. Guetem, who was not without wit, 
 replied, that he was so astonished to find himself be- 
 fore the greatest King in the world, and to find that 
 King doing him the honour of speaking to him, that 
 he had not power enough to answer. He remained ten 
 or twelve days in Beringhen's house to see Paris, the 
 Opera and the Comedy, and became the talk of the 
 town. People ran after him everywhere, and the most 
 distinguished were not ashamed to do likewise. On 
 all sides he was applauded for an act of temerity, which 
 might have passed for insolence. Beringhen regaled 
 him, furnished him with carriages and servants to ac- 
 company him, and, at parting, with money and con- 
 siderable presents. Guetem went on his parole to 
 Rheims to rejoin his comrades until exchanged, and 
 had the town for prison. Nearly all the others had 
 escaped. The project was nothing less than to carry 
 off Monseigneur, or one of the princes, his sons.
 
 Saint-Simon 121 
 
 This ridiculous adventure gave rise to precautions, 
 excessive in the first place, and which caused sad ob- 
 structions of bridges and gates. It caused, too, a num- 
 ber of people to be arrested. The hunting parties of 
 the princes were for some time interfered with, until 
 matters resumed their usual course. But it was not 
 bad fun to see, during some time, the terror of ladies, 
 and even of men, of the Court, who no longer dared 
 go abroad except in broad daylight, even then with 
 little assurance, and imagining themselves everywhere 
 in marvellous danger of capture. 
 
 I have related in its proper place the adventure of 
 Madame la Princesse de Conti with Mademoiselle 
 Choin and the attachment of Monseigneur for the lat- 
 ter. This attachment was only augmented by the dif- 
 ficulty of seeing each other. 
 
 Mademoiselle Choin retired to the house of Lacroix, 
 one of her relatives at Paris, where she lived quite 
 hidden. She was informed of the rare days when Mon- 
 seigneur dined alone at Meudon, without sleeping 
 there. She went there the day before in a fiacre, passed 
 through the courts on foot, ill clad, like a common sort 
 of woman going to see some officer at Meudon, and, 
 by a back staircase, was admitted to Monseigneur who 
 passed some hours with her in a little apartment on 
 the first floor. In time she came there with a lady's- 
 maid, her parcel in her pocket, on the evenings of the 
 days that Monseigneur slept there. She remained in 
 this apartment without seeing anybody, attended by 
 her lady's-maid, and waited upon by a servant who 
 alone was in the secret. 
 
 Little by little the friends of Monseigneur were al-
 
 122 Memoirs of 
 
 lowed to see her ; and amongst these were M. le Prince 
 de Conti, Monseigneur le Due de Bourgogne, Ma- 
 dame la Duchesse de Bourgogne, and M. le Due de 
 Berry. There was always, however, an air of mystery 
 about the matter. The parties that took place were 
 kept secret, although frequent, and were called par- 
 vulos. 
 
 Mademoiselle Choin remained in her little apart- 
 ment only for the convenience of Monseigneur. She 
 slept in the bed and in the grand apartment where Ma- 
 dame la Duchesse de Bourgogne lodged when the 
 King was at Meudon. She always sat in an arm-chair 
 before Monseigneur ; Madame de Bourgogne sat on a 
 stool. Mademoiselle Choin never rose for her ; in 
 speaking of her, even before Monseigneur and the 
 company, she used to say " the Duchesse de Bour- 
 gogne," and lived with her as Madame de Maintenon 
 did excepting that " darling " and " my aunt," were 
 terms not exchanged between them, and that Madame 
 de Bourgogne was not nearly so free, or so much at 
 her ease, as with the King and Madame de Maintenon. 
 Monsieur de Bourgogne was much in restraint. His 
 manners did not agree with those of that world. Mon- 
 seigneur le Due de Berry, who was more free, was quite 
 at home. 
 
 Mademoiselle Choin went on fete-days to hear mass 
 in the chapel at six o'clock in the morning, well 
 wrapped up, and took her meals alone, when Mon- 
 seigneur did not eat with her. When he was alone w T ith 
 her, the doors were all guarded and barricaded to keep 
 out intruders. People regarded her as being to Mon- 
 seigneur, what Madame de Maintenon was to the King.
 
 Saint-Simon 123 
 
 All the batteries for the future were directed and 
 pointed towards her. People schemed to gain permis- 
 sion to visit her at Paris ; people paid court to her 
 friends and acquaintances, Monseigneuf le Due de 
 Bourgogne sought to please her, was respectful to her, 
 attentive to her friends, not always with success. She 
 acted towards Monseigneur le Due de Bourgogne like 
 a mother-in-law, and sometimes spoke with such au- 
 thority and bluntness to Madame de Bourgogne as 
 to make her cry. 
 
 The King and Madame de Maintenon were in no 
 way ignorant of all this, but they held their tongues, 
 and all the Court who knew it, spoke only in whispers 
 of it. This is enough for the present ; it will serve to 
 explain many things, of which I shall speak anon.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Death and Last Days of Madame de Montespan Selfishness 
 of the King Death and Character of Madame de Nemours 
 Neufchatel and Prussia Campaign of Villars Naval 
 Successes Inundations of the Loire Siege of Toulon A 
 Quarrel about News Quixotic Despatches of Tesse. 
 
 ON Wednesday, the 2/th of May, 1707, at three 
 o'clock in the morning, Madame de Montespan, 
 aged sixty, died very suddenly at the waters of Bour- 
 bon. Her death made much stir, although she had 
 long retired from the Court and from the world, and 
 preserved no trace of the commanding influence she 
 had so long possessed. I need not go back beyond 
 my own experience, and to the time of her reign as 
 mistress of the King. I will simply say, because the 
 anecdote is little known, that her conduct was more 
 the fault of her husband than her own. She warned 
 him as soon as she suspected the King to be in love 
 with her ; and told him when there was no longer any 
 doubt upon her mind. She assured him that a great 
 entertainment that the King gave was in her honour. 
 She pressed him, she entreated him in the most elo- 
 quent manner, to take her away to his estates of 
 Guyenne, and leave her there until the King had for- 
 gotten her or chosen another mistress. It was all to 
 
 124
 
 Saint-Simon 125 
 
 no purpose ; and Montespan was not long before re- 
 pentance seized him ; for his torment was that he loved 
 her all his life, and died still in love with her although 
 he would never consent to see her again a'fter the first 
 scandal. 
 
 Nor will I speak of the divers degrees which the 
 fear of the devil at various times put to her separa- 
 tion from the Court ; and I will elsewhere speak of 
 Madame de Maintenon, who owed her everything, who 
 fed her on serpents, and who at last ousted her from the 
 Court. What no one dared to say, what the King 
 himself dared not, M. du Maine, her son, dared. M. 
 de Meaux (Bossuet) did the rest. She went in tears 
 and fury, and never forgave M. du Maine, who by his 
 strange service gained over for ever to his interests 
 the heart and the mighty influence of Madame de 
 Maintenon. 
 
 The mistress, retired amongst the Community of 
 Saint Joseph, which she had built, was long in accus- 
 toming herself to it. She carried about her idleness and 
 unhappiness to Bourbon, to Fontevrault, to D'Antin ; 
 she was many years without succeeding in obtaining 
 mastery over herself. At last God touched her. Her 
 sin had never been accompanied by forgetfulness ; she 
 used often to leave the King to go and pray in her 
 cabinet ; nothing could ever make her evade any fast- 
 day or meagre day ; her austerity in fasting continued 
 amidst all her dissipation. She gave alms, was es- 
 teemed by good people, never gave way to doubt or 
 impiety ; but she was imperious, haughty and over- 
 bearing, full of mockery, and of all the qualities by 
 which beauty with the power it bestows is naturally
 
 126 Memoirs of 
 
 accompanied. Being resolved at last to take advantage 
 of an opportunity which had been given her against 
 her will, she put herself in the hands of Pere de la Tour, 
 that famous General of the Oratory. From that mo- 
 ment to the time of her death her conversion continued 
 steadily, and her penitence augmented. She had first 
 to get rid of the secret fondness she still entertained 
 for the Court, even of the hopes which, however chi- 
 merical, had always flattered her. She was persuaded 
 that nothing but the fear of the devil had forced the 
 King to separate himself from her, that it was nothing 
 but this fear that had raised Madame de Maintenon 
 to the height she had attained ; that age and ill-health, 
 which she was pleased to imagine, would soon clear 
 the way ; that when the King was a widower, she be- 
 ing a widow, nothing would oppose their reunion, 
 which might easily be brought about by their affection 
 for their children. These children entertained similar 
 hopes, and were therefore assiduous in their attention 
 to her for some time. 
 
 Pere de la Tour made her perform a terrible act of 
 penitence. It was to ask pardon of her husband, and 
 to submit herself to his commands. To all who knew 
 Madame de Montespan this will seem the most heroic 
 sacrifice. M. de Montespan, however, imposed no re- 
 straint upon his wife. He sent word that he wished 
 in no way to interfere with her, or even to see her. She 
 experienced no further trouble, therefore, on this score. 
 
 Little by little she gave almost all she had to the 
 poor. She worked for them several hours a day, mak- 
 ing stout shirts and such things for them. Her table, 
 that she had loved to excess, became the most frugal ;
 
 Saint-Simon 127 
 
 her fasts multiplied ; she would interrupt her meals in 
 order to go and pray. Her mortifications were con- 
 tinued ; her chemises and her sheets were of rough 
 linen, of the hardest and thickest kind, but hidden 
 under others of ordinary kind. She unceasingly wore 
 bracelets, garters, and a girdle, all armed with iron 
 points, which oftentimes inflicted wounds upon her ; 
 and her tongue, formerly so dangerous, had also its 
 peculiar penance imposed on it. She was, moreover, 
 so tormented with the fear of death, that she em- 
 ployed several women, whose sole occupation was to 
 watch her. She went to sleep with all the curtains of 
 her bed open, many lights in her chamber, and her 
 women around her. \Yhenever she awoke she wished 
 to find them chatting, playing, or enjoying themselves, 
 so as to re-assure herself against their drowsiness. 
 
 With all this she could never throw off the manners 
 of a queen. She had an arm-chair in her chamber 
 with its back turned to the foot of the bed. There was 
 no other in the chamber, not even when her natural 
 children came to see her, not even for Madame la Du- 
 chesse d'Orleans. She was oftentimes visited by the 
 most distinguished people of the Court, and she spoke 
 like a queen to all. She treated everybody with much 
 respect, and was treated so in turn. I have mentioned 
 in its proper place, that a short time before her death, 
 the King gave her a hundred thousand francs to buy 
 an estate ; but this present was not gratis, for she had 
 to send back a necklace worth a hundred and fifty thou- 
 sand, to which the King made additions, and bestowed 
 it on the Duchesse de Bourgogne. 
 
 The last time Madame de Montespan went to Bour-
 
 128 Memoirs of 
 
 bon she paid all her charitable pensions and gratuities 
 two years in advance and doubled her alms. Although 
 in good health she had a presentiment that she should 
 return no more. This presentiment, in effect, proved 
 correct. She felt herself so ill one night, although she 
 had been very well just before, that she confessed her- 
 self, and received the sacrament. Previous to this she 
 called all her servants into her room and made a public 
 confession of her public sins, asking pardon for the 
 scandal she had caused with a humility so decent, so 
 profound, so penitent, that nothing could be more edi- 
 fying. She received the last sacrament with an ardent 
 piety. The fear of death which all her life had so con- 
 tinually troubled her, disappeared suddenly, and dis- 
 turbed her no more. She died, without regret, oc- 
 cupied only with thoughts of eternity, and with a 
 sweetness and tranquillity that accompanied all her 
 actions. 
 
 Her only son by Monsieur de Montespan, whom she 
 had treated like a mother-in-law, until her separation 
 from the King, but who had since returned to her affec- 
 tion, D'Antin, arrived just before her death. She looked 
 at him, and only said that he saw her in a very different 
 state to what he had seen her at Bellegarde. As soon 
 as she was dead he set out for Paris, leaving orders for 
 her obsequies, which were strange, or were strangely 
 executed. Her body, formerly so perfect, became the 
 prey of the unskilfulness and the ignorance of a sur- 
 geon. The obsequies were at the discretion of the com- 
 monest valets, all the rest of the house having suddenly 
 deserted. The body remained a long time at the door 
 of the house, whilst the canons of the Sainte Chapelle
 
 Saint-Simon 129 
 
 and the priests of the parish disputed about the order 
 of precedence with more than indecency. It was put 
 in keeping under care of the parish, like the corpse oi 
 the meanest citizen of the place, and not until a long 
 time afterwards was it sent to Poitiers to be placed 
 in the family tomb, and then with an unworthy parsi- 
 mony. Madame de Montespan was bitterly regretted 
 by all the poor of the province, amongst whom she 
 spread an infinity of alms, as well as amongst others 
 of different degree. 
 
 As for the King, his perfect insensibility at the death 
 of a mistress he had so passionately loved, and for so 
 many years, was so extreme, that Madame de Bour- 
 gogne could not keep her surprise from him. He re- 
 plied, tranquilly, that since he had dismissed her he 
 had reckoned upon never seeing her again, and that 
 thus she was from that time dead to him. It is easy 
 to believe that the grief of the children he had had by 
 her did not please him. Those children did not dare 
 to wear mourning for a mother not recognised. Their 
 appearance, therefore, contrasted with that of the chil- 
 dren of Madame de la Yalliere, who had just died, and 
 for whom they were wearing mourning. Nothing 
 could equal the grief which Madame la Duchesse d'Or- 
 leans, Madame la Duchesse, and the Comte de Tou- 
 louse exhibited. The grief of Madame la Duchesse 
 especially was astonishing, for she always prided her- 
 self on loving nobody ; still more astonishing was the 
 grief of M. le Due. so inaccessible to friendship. We 
 must remember, however, that this death put an end 
 to many hopes. M. du Maine, for his part, could 
 scarcely repress his joy at the death of his mother, and 
 VOL. II. 9
 
 130 Memoirs of 
 
 after having stopped away from Marly two days, re- 
 turned and caused the Comte de Toulouse to be re- 
 called likewise. Madame de Maintenon, delivered of 
 a former rival, whose place she had taken, ought, it 
 might have been thought, to have felt relieved. It was 
 otherwise; remorse for the benefits she had received 
 from Madame de Montespan, and for the manner in 
 which those benefits had been repaid, overwhelmed 
 her. Tears stole down her cheeks, and she went into a 
 strange privacy to hide them. Madame de Bourgogne, 
 who followed, was speechless with astonishment. 
 
 The life and conduct of so famous a mistress, sub- 
 sequent to her forced retirement, have appeared to me 
 sufficiently curious to describe at length ; and what 
 happened at her death was equally characteristic of 
 the Court. 
 
 The death of the Duchesse de Nemours, which fol- 
 lowed quickly upon that of Madame de Montespan, 
 made still more stir in the world, but of another kind. 
 Madame de Xcmours was daughter, by a first marriage, 
 of the last Due de Longueville. She was extremely 
 rich, and lived in great splendour. She had a strange 
 look, and a droll way of dressing, big eyes with which 
 she could scarcely see, a shoulder that constantly 
 twitched, grey hairs that she wore flowing, and a very 
 imposing air. She was a very bad temper, and could 
 not forgive. \Yhen somebody asked her if she said the 
 Pater, she replied, yes, but that she passed by without 
 saying it the clause respecting pardon for our enemies. 
 She did not like her kinsfolk, the Matignons, and would 
 never see nor speak to any of them. One day talking 
 to the King at a window of his cabinet, she saw Ma-
 
 Saint-Simon 131 
 
 tignon passing in the court below. Whereupon she set 
 to spitting five or six times running, and then turned 
 to the King and begged his pardon, saying, that she 
 could never see a Matignon without spitting in that 
 manner. It may be imagined that devotion did not in- 
 commode her. She herself used to tell a story, that 
 having entered one day a confessional, without being 
 followed into the church, neither her appearance nor 
 her dress gave her confessor an idea of her rank. She 
 spoke of her great wealth, and said much about the 
 Princes de Conde and de Conti. The confessor told 
 her to pass by all that. She, feeling that the case was a 
 serious one, insisted upon explaining and made allu- 
 sion to her large estates and her millions. The good 
 priest believed her mad, and told her to calm herself ; 
 to get rid of such ideas ; to think no more of them ; 
 and above all to eat good soups, if she had the means 
 to procure them. Seized with anger she rose and left 
 the place. The confessor out of curiosity followed her 
 to the door. \Yhen he saw the good lady, whom he 
 thought mad, received by grooms, waiting women, and 
 so on, he had liked to have fallen backwards : but he 
 ran to the coach door and asked her pardon. It was 
 now her turn to laugh at him, and she got off scot-free 
 that day from the confessional. 
 
 Madame de Nemours had amongst other posses- 
 sions the sovereignty of Neufchatel. As soon as she 
 was dead, various claimants arose to dispute the suc- 
 cession. Madame de Mailly laid claim to it, as to the 
 succession to the principality of Orange, upon the 
 strength of a very doubtful alliance with the house of 
 Chalons, and hoped to be supported by Madame de
 
 132 Memoirs of 
 
 Maintenon. But Madame de Maintenon laughed at 
 her chimeras, as they were laughed at in Switzerland. 
 M. le Prince de Conti was another claimant. He based 
 his right upon the will of the last Due de Longueville, 
 by which he had been called to all the Duke's wealth, 
 after the Comte de Saint Paul, his brother, and his 
 posterity. In addition to these, there were Matignon 
 and the dowager Duchesse de Lesdiguieres, who 
 claimed Neufchatel by right of their relationship to 
 Madame de Nemours. 
 
 Matignon was an intimate friend of Chamillart, who 
 did not like the Prince de Conti, and was the declared 
 enemy of the Marechal de Villeroy, the representative 
 of Madame de Lesdiguieres, in this affair. Chamillart, 
 therefore, persuaded the King to remain neutral, and 
 aided Matignon by money and influence to get the 
 start of the other claimants. 
 
 The haughty citizens of Neufchatel saw then all these 
 suitors begging for their suffrages, when a minister 
 of the Elector of Brandebourg appeared amongst 
 them, and disputed the pretensions of the Prince de 
 Conti in favour of his master, the Elector of Brande- 
 bourg (King of Prussia), who drew his claim from the 
 family of Chalons. It \vas more distant, more en- 
 tangled if possible, than that of Madame de Mailly. 
 He only made use of it, therefore, as a pretext. His 
 reasons were his religion, in conformity with that of 
 the country; the support of the neighbouring Prot- 
 estant cantons, allies, and protectors of Neufchatel ; the 
 pressing reflection that the principality of Orange hav- 
 ing fallen by the death of William III. to M. le Prince 
 de Conti, the King (Louis XIV.) had appropriated
 
 Saint-Simon 133 
 
 it and recompensed him for it : and that he might act 
 similarly if Neufchatel fell to one of his subjects ; lastly, 
 a treaty produced in good form, by which, in the 
 event of the death of Madame de Nemours, England 
 and Holland agreed to declare for the Elector of 
 Brandebourg, and to assist him by force in procuring 
 this little state. This minister of the Elector was in 
 concert with the Protestant cantons, who upon his 
 declaration at once sided with him ; and who, by the 
 money spent, the cpnformity of religion, the power of 
 the Elector, the reflection of what had happened at 
 Orange, found nearly all the suffrages favourable. So 
 striking while the iron was hot, they obtained a pro- 
 visional judgment from Neufchatel, which adjudged 
 their state to the Elector until the peace ; and in 
 consequence of this, his minister was put into actual 
 possession, and M. le Prince de Conti saw himself con- 
 strained to return more shamefully than he had re- 
 turned once before, and was followed by the other 
 claimants. 
 
 Madame de Mailly made such an uproar at the news 
 of this intrusion of the Elector, that at last the atten- 
 tion of our ministers was awakened. They found, with 
 her, that it was the duty of the King not to allow this 
 morsel to be carried off from his subjects ; and that 
 there was danger in leaving it in the hands of such a 
 powerful Protestant prince, capable of making a forti- 
 fied place of it so close to the county of Burgundy, and 
 on a frontier so little protected. Thereupon, the King 
 despatched a courier to our minister in Switzerland, 
 with orders to go to Neufchatel, and employ every 
 means, even menaces, to exclude the Elector, and to
 
 134 Memoirs of 
 
 promise that the neutrality of France should be main- 
 tained if one of her subjects was selected, no matter 
 which one. It was too late. The affair was finished ; 
 the cantons were engaged, without means of with- 
 drawing. They, moreover, were piqued into resistance, 
 by an appeal to their honour by the electoral minister, 
 who insisted on the menaces of Puysieux, our repre- 
 sentative, to whose memoir the ministers of England 
 and Holland printed a violent reply. The provisional 
 judgment received no alteration. Shame was felt ; and 
 resentment was testified during six weeks ; after which, 
 for lack of being able to do better, this resentment was 
 appeased of itself. It may be imagined what hope re- 
 mained to the claimants of reversing at the peace this 
 provisional judgment, and of struggling against a 
 prince so powerful and so solidly supported. No men- 
 tion of it was afterwards made, and Neufchatel has re- 
 mained ever since fully and peaceably to this prince, 
 who was even expressly confirmed in his possession 
 at the peace by France. 
 
 The armies assembled this year towards the end of 
 May, and the campaign commenced. The Due de 
 Yendome was in command in Flanders, under the 
 Elector of Bavaria, and by his slothfulness and inat- 
 tention, allowed Marlborough to steal a march upon 
 him, which, but for the failure of some of the arrange- 
 ments, might have caused serious loss to our troops. 
 The enemy was content to keep simply on the defen- 
 sive after this, having projects of attack in hand else- 
 where to which I shall soon allude. 
 
 On the Rhine, the Marechal de Villars was in com- 
 mand, and was opposed by the Marquis of Bayreuth,
 
 Saint-Simon 135 
 
 and afterwards by the Duke of Hanover, since King 
 of England. Villars was so far successful, that finding 
 himself feebly opposed by the Imperials, he penetrated 
 into Germany, after having made himself master of 
 Heidelberg, Mannheim, and all the Palatinate, and 
 seized upon a number of cannons, provisions, and mu- 
 nitions of war. He did not forget to tax the enemy 
 wherever he went. He gathered immense sums 
 treasures beyond all his hopes. Thus gorged, he could 
 not hope that his brigandage would remain unknown. 
 He put on a bold face and wrote to the King, that the 
 army would cost him nothing this year. Yillars begged 
 at the same time to be allowed to appropriate some of 
 the money he had acquired to the levelling of a hill on 
 his estate which displeased him. Another than he 
 would have been dishonoured by such a request. But 
 it made no difference in his respect, except with the 
 public, with whom, however, he occupied himself but 
 little. His booty clutched, he thought of withdrawing 
 from the enemy's country, and passing the Rhine. 
 
 He crossed it tranquilly, with his army and his im- 
 mense booty, despite the attempts of the Duke of 
 Hanover to prevent him, and as soon as he was on this 
 side, had no care but how to terminate the campaign 
 in repose. Thus finished a campaign tolerably brill- 
 iant, if the sordid and prodigious gain of the general 
 had not soiled it. Yet that general, on his return, was 
 not less well received by the King. 
 
 At sea we had successes. Frobin, with vessels more 
 feeble than the four English ones of seventy guns, 
 which convoyed a fleet of eighteen ships loaded with 
 provisions and articles of war, took two of those ves-
 
 136 Memoirs of 
 
 sels of war and the eighteen merchantmen, after four 
 hours' fighting, and set fire to one of the two others. 
 Three months after he took at the mouth of the Dwina 
 seven richly-loaded Dutch merchant-ships, bound for 
 Muscovy. He took or sunk more than fifty during 
 this campaign. Afterwards he took three large Eng- 
 lish ships of war that he led to Brest, and sank an- 
 other of a hundred guns. The English of New Eng- 
 land, and of New York were not more successful in 
 Arcadia ; they attacked our colony twelve days run- 
 ning, without success, and were obliged to retire with 
 much loss. 
 
 The maritime year finished by a terrible tempest 
 upon the coast of Holland, which caused many vessels 
 to perish in the Texel, and submerged a large number 
 of districts and villages. France had also its share of 
 these catastrophes. The Loire overflowed in a man- 
 ner hitherto unheard of, broke down the embankments, 
 inundated and covered with sand many parts of the 
 country, carried away villages, drowned numbers of 
 people and a quantity of cattle, and caused damage to 
 the amount of above eight millions. This was another 
 of our obligations to M. de la Feuillade an obligation 
 which we have not yet escaped from. Nature, wiser 
 than man, had placed rocks in the Loire above Roanne, 
 which prevented navigation to that place, the principal 
 in the duchy of M. de la Feuillade. His father, tempted 
 by the profit of this navigation, washed to get rid of the 
 rocks. Orleans, Blois, Tours, in one word, all the 
 places on the Loire, opposed this. They represented 
 the danger of inundations : they were listened to, and 
 although the M. de la Feuillade of that day was a
 
 Saint-Simon 137 
 
 favourite, and on good terms with M. Colbert, he was 
 not allowed to carry out his wishes with respect to 
 these rocks. His son, the M. de la Feuillade, whom 
 we have seen figuring with so little distinction at the 
 siege of Turin, had more credit. Without listening to 
 anybody, he blew up the rocks, and the navigation was 
 rendered free in his favour ; the inundations that they 
 used to prevent have overflown since at immense loss 
 to the King and private individuals. The cause was 
 clearly seen afterwards, but then it was too late. 
 
 The little effort made by the enemy in Flanders and 
 Germany, had a cause, which began to be perceived 
 towards the middle of^fuly. We had been forced to 
 abandon Italy. By a shameful treaty that was made, all 
 our troops had retired from that country into Savoy. 
 W r e had given up everything. Prince Eugene, who 
 had had the glory of driving us out of Italy, remained 
 there some time, and then entered the county of Nice. 
 
 Forty of the enemy's vessels arrived at Nice shortly 
 afterwards, and landed artillery. M. de Savoie arrived 
 there also, with six or seven thousand men. It was 
 now no longer hidden that the siege of Toulon was 
 determined on. Every preparation was at once made 
 to defend the place. Tesse was in command. The 
 delay of a day on the part of the enemy saved Toulon, 
 and it may be said, France. M. de Savoie had been 
 promised money by the English. They disputed a 
 whole day about the payment, and so retarded the de- 
 parture of the fleet from Nice. In the end, seeing M. 
 de Savoie firm, they paid him a million, which he re- 
 ceived himself. But in the mean time twenty-one of 
 our battalions had had time to arrive at Toulon. Thev
 
 138 Memoirs oi 
 
 decided the fortune of the siege. After several unsuc- 
 cessful attempts to take the place, the enemy gave up 
 the siege and retired in the night, between the 22nd and 
 23rd of August, in good order, and without being dis- 
 turbed. Our troops could obtain no sort of assistance 
 from the people of I'rovence, so as to harass M. de 
 Savoie in his passage of the V'ar. They refused money, 
 militia, and provisions bluntly, saying that it was no 
 matter to them who came, and that .M. de Savoie could 
 not torment them more than they were tormented 
 already. 
 
 The important news of a deliverance so desired ar- 
 rived at Marly on Friday, the 26th of August, and 
 overwhelmed all the Court with joy. A scandalous fuss 
 arose, however, out of this event. The first courier 
 who brought the intelligence of it, had been despatched 
 by the commander of the fleet, and had been conducted 
 to the King by Pontchartrain, who had the affairs of 
 the navy under his control. The courier sent by Tesse, 
 who commanded the land forces, did not arrive until 
 some hours after the other. Chamillart, who received 
 this second courier, was piqued to excess that Pont- 
 charlrain had outstripped him with the news. He de- 
 clared that the news did not belong to the navy, and 
 consequently Pontchartrain had no right to carry it 
 to the King. The public, strangely enough, sided 
 with Chamillart, and o t n every side Pontchartrain was 
 treated as a greedy usurper. Nobody had sufficient 
 sense to reflect upon the anger which a master would 
 feel against a servant who, having the information by 
 which that master could be relieved from extreme anx- 
 iety, should yet withhold the information for six or
 
 Saint-Simon 139 
 
 eight hours, on the ground that to tell it was the duty 
 of another servant ! 
 
 The strangest thing is, that the King, who was the 
 most interested, had not the force to declare himself 
 on either side, but kept silent. The torrent was so im- 
 petuous that Pontchartrain had only to lower his head, 
 keep silent, and let the waters pass. Such was the 
 weakness of the King for his ministers. I recollect 
 that, in 1702, the Due de Yilleroy brought to Marly the 
 important news of the battle of Luzzara. But, because 
 Chamillart was not there, he hid himself, left the King 
 and the Court in the utmost anxiety, and did not an- 
 nounce his news until long after, when Chamillart, 
 hearing of his arrival, hastened to join him and present 
 him to the King. The King was so far from being dis- 
 pleased, that he made the Due de Yilleroy Lieutenant- 
 General before dismissing him. 
 
 There is another odd thing that I must relate be- 
 fore quitting this affair. Tesse, as I have said, was 
 charged with the defence of Toulon by land. It was 
 a charge of no slight importance. He was in a country 
 where nothing was prepared, and where everything 
 was wanting; the fleet of the enemy and their army 
 were near at hand, commanded by two of the most skil- 
 ful captains of the day : if they succeeded, the kingdom 
 itself was in danger, and the road open to the enemy 
 even to Paris. A general thus situated would have 
 been in no humour for jesting, it might have been 
 thought. But this was not the case with Tesse. He 
 found time to write to Pontchartrain all the details of 
 the war and all that passed amongst our troops in the 
 style of Don Quixote, of whom he called himself the
 
 140 Saint-Simon 
 
 wretched squire and the Sancho ; and everything he 
 wrote he adapted to the adventures of that romance. 
 Pontchartrain showed me these letters ; they made 
 him die with laughing", he admired them so ; and in 
 truth they were very comical, and he imitated that ro- 
 mance with more wit than I believed him to possess. 
 It appeared to me incredible, however, that a man 
 should write thus, at such a critical time, to curry fa- 
 vour with a secretary of state. I could not have be- 
 lieved it had I not seen it.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Precedence at the Communion Table The King Offended 
 with Madame de Torcy The King's Religion Atheists and 
 Jansenists Project against Scotland Preparations Fail- 
 ure The Chevalier de Saint George His Return to Court. 
 
 I WENT this summer to Forges, to try, by means of 
 the waters there, to get rid of a tertian fever that 
 quinquina only suspended. While there I heard of a 
 new enterprise on the part of the Princes of the blood, 
 who, in the discredit in which the King held them, 
 profited without measure by his desire for the grandeur 
 of the illegitimate children, to acquire new advantages 
 which were suffered because the others shared them. 
 This was the case in question. 
 
 After the elevation of the Mass at the King's com- 
 munion a folding-chair was pushed to the foot of the 
 altar, was covered with a piece of stuff, and then with 
 a large cloth, which hung down before and behind. 
 At the Pater the chaplain rose and whispered in the 
 King's ear the names of all the Dukes who were in the 
 chapel. The King named two, always the oldest, to 
 each of whom the chaplain advanced and made a rev- 
 erence. During the communion of the priest the King 
 rose, and went and knelt down on the bare floor behind 
 this folding seat, and took hold of the cloth; at the 
 
 141
 
 142 Memoirs of 
 
 same time the two Dukes, the elder on the right, the 
 other on the left, each took hold of a corner of the cloth ; 
 the two chaplains took hold of the other two corners of 
 the same cloth, on the side of the altar, all four kneel- 
 ing, and the captain of the guards also kneeling and 
 behind the King. The communion received and the 
 oblation taken some moments afterwards, the King re- 
 mained a little while in the same place, then returned 
 to his own, followed by the two Dukes and the captain 
 of the guards, who took theirs. If a son of France 
 happened to be there alone, he alone held the right 
 corner of the cloth, and nobody the other; and when 
 M. le Due d'Orleans was there, and no son of France 
 was present, M. le Due d'Orleans held the cloth in like 
 manner. If a Prince of the blood were alone present, 
 however, he held the cloth, but a Duke was called for- 
 ward to assist him. He was not privileged to act with- 
 out the Duke. 
 
 The Princes of the blood wanted to change this ; they 
 were envious of the distinction accorded to M. d'Or- 
 leans, and wished to put themselves on the same foot- 
 ing. Accordingly, at the Assumption of this year, they 
 managed so well that M. le Due served alone at the 
 altar at the King's communion, no Duke being called 
 upon to come and join him. The surprise at this was 
 very great. The Due de la Force and the Marechal 
 de Boufflers, who ought to have served, were both pres- 
 ent. I wrote to this last to say that such a thing had 
 never happened before, and that it was contrary to all 
 precedent. I wrote, too, to M. d'Orleans, who was 
 then in Spain, informing him of the circumstance. 
 When he returned he complained to the King. But
 
 Saint-Simon 143 
 
 the King merely said that the Dukes ought to have pre- 
 sented themselves and taken hold of the cloth. But 
 how could they have done so, without being requested, 
 as was customary, to come forward? What would the 
 King have thought of them if they had? To conclude, 
 nothing could be made of the matter, and it remained 
 thus. Never then, since that time, did I go to the com- 
 munions of the King.* 
 
 An incident occurred at Marly about the same time, 
 which made much stir. The ladies who were invited 
 to Marly had the privilege of dining with the King. 
 Tables were placed for them, and they took up posi- 
 tions according to their rank. The non-titled ladies 
 had also their special place. It so happened one day, 
 that Madame de Torcy (an untitled lady) placed herself 
 above the Duchesse de Duras, who arrived at table a 
 moment after her. Madame de Torcy offered to give 
 up her place, but it was a little late, and the offer passed 
 away in compliments. The King entered, and put 
 himself at table. As soon as he sat down, he saw the 
 place Madame de Torcy had taken, and fixed such a 
 serious and surprised look upon her, that she again 
 offered to give up her place to the Duchesse de Duras; 
 but the offer was again declined. All through the din- 
 ner the King scarcely ever took his eyes off Madame 
 de Torcy, said hardly a word, and bore a look of anger 
 that rendered everybody very attentive, and even 
 troubled the Duchesse de Duras. 
 
 * How characteristic is this solemn narrative of etiquette round the 
 communion table, not only of the King and the Court, but of Saint- 
 Simon himself! If it were my business to comment on such passages, 
 what language could I employ that would not seem to refer to the 
 conduct of monkeys or penguins rather than that of men.
 
 144 Memoirs of 
 
 Upon rising from the table, the King passed, accord- 
 ing to custom, into the apartments of Madame de Main- 
 tenon, followed by the Princesses of the blood, who 
 grouped themselves around him upon stools; the oth- 
 ers who entered, kept at a distance. Almost before he 
 had seated himself in his chair, he said to Madame de 
 Maintenon, that he had just been witness of an act of 
 " incredible insolence " (that was the term he used) 
 which had thrown him into such a rage that he had 
 been unable to eat : that such an enterprise would have 
 been insupportable in a woman of the highest quality; 
 but coming, as it did, from a mere bourgeoise, it had 
 so affected him, that ten times he had been upon the 
 point of making her leave the table, and that he was 
 only restrained by consideration for her husband. Af- 
 ter this outbreak he made a long discourse upon the 
 genealogy of Madame de Torcy's family, and other 
 matters; and then, to the astonishment of all present, 
 grew as angry as ever against Madame de Torcy. He 
 went off then into a discourse upon the dignity of the 
 Dukes, and in conclusion, he charged the Princesses to 
 tell Madame de Torcy to what extent he had found 
 her conduct impertinent. The Princesses looked at 
 each other, and not one seemed to like this commis- 
 sion; whereupon the King, growing more angry, said, 
 that it must be undertaken however, and left the room. 
 
 The news of what had taken place, and of the King's 
 choler, soon spread all over the Court. It was be- 
 lieved, however, that all was over, and that nothing 
 more would be heard of the matter. Yet the very same 
 evening the King broke out again with even more bit- 
 terness than before. On the morrow, too, surprise was
 
 Saint-Simon 145 
 
 great indeed, when it was found that the King, im- 
 mediately after dinner, could talk of nothing but this 
 subject, and that, too, without any softening of tone. 
 At last he was assured that Madame de Torcy had been 
 spoken to, and this appeased him a little. Torcy was 
 obliged to write him a letter, apologising for the fault 
 of Madame de Torcy, and the King at this grew r con- 
 tent. It may be imagined what a sensation this ad- 
 venture produced all through the Court. 
 
 While upon the subject of the King, let me relate an 
 anecdote of him, which should have found a place ere 
 this. When M. d'Orleans was about to start for Spain, 
 he named the officers who were to be of his suite. 
 Amongst others was Fontpertius. At that name the 
 King put on a serious look. 
 
 "What! my nephew," he said. "Fontpertius! the 
 son of a Jansenist of that silly woman who ran every- 
 where after M. Arnould! I do not wish that man to 
 go with you." 
 
 " By my faith, Sire," replied the Due d'Orleans, " I 
 know not what the mother has done; but as for the 
 son, he is far enough from being a Jansenist, I'll an- 
 swer for it; for he does not believe in Cod." 
 
 " Is it possible, my nephew? " said the King, soften- 
 ing. 
 
 " Nothing more certain. Sire, I assure you." 
 
 " Well, since it is so," said the King, " there is no 
 harm : you can take him with you." 
 
 This scene for it can be called by no other name 
 
 took place in the morning. After dinner M. d'Orleans 
 
 repeated it to me, bursting with laughter, word for 
 
 word, just as I have written it. When we had both 
 
 VOL. II. 10
 
 146 Memoirs of 
 
 well laughed at this, we admired the profound instruc- 
 tion of a discreet and religious King, who considered 
 it better not to believe in God than to be a Jansenist, 
 and who thought there was less danger to his nephew 
 from the impiety of an unbeliever than from the doc- 
 trines of a sectarian. M. d'Orleans could not contain 
 himself while he told the story, and never spoke of it 
 without laughing until the tears came into his eyes. 
 It ran all through the Court and all over the town, and 
 the marvellous thing was, that the King was not angry 
 at this. It was a testimony of his attachment to the 
 good doctrine which withdrew him further and further 
 from Jansenism. The majority of people laughed with 
 all their heart. Others, more wise, felt rather disposed 
 to weep than to laugh, in considering to what excess of 
 blindness the King had reached. 
 
 For a long time a most important project had 
 knocked at every door, without being able to obtain a 
 hearing anywhere. The project was this: Hough, an 
 English gentleman full of talent and knowledge, and 
 who, above all, knew profoundly the laws of his coun- 
 try, had filled various posts in England. At first a 
 minister by profession, and furious against King James; 
 afterwards a Catholic and King James's spy, he had 
 been delivered up to King William, who pardoned him. 
 He profited by this only to continue his services to 
 James. He was taken several times, and always es- 
 caped from the Tower of London and other prisons. 
 Being no longer able to dwell in England he came to 
 France, where he occupied himself always with the 
 same line of business, and was paid for that by the 
 King (Louis XIV.) and by King James, the latter of
 
 Saint-Simon 147 
 
 whom he unceasingly sought to re-establish. The union 
 of Scotland with England appeared to him a favourable 
 conjuncture, by the despair of that ancient kingdom 
 at seeing itself reduced into a province under the yoke 
 of the English. The Jacobite party remained there; 
 the vexation caused by this forced union had increased 
 it, by the desire felt to break that union with the aid 
 of a King that they would have re-established. Hough, 
 who was aware of the fermentation going on, made 
 several secret journeys to Scotland, and planned an in- 
 vasion of that country; but, as I have said, for a long 
 time could get no one to listen to him. 
 
 The King, indeed, was so tired of such enterprises, 
 that nobody dared to speak to him upon this. All 
 drew back. No one liked to bell the cat. At last, how- 
 ever, Madame de Maintenon being gained over, the 
 King was induced to listen to the project. As soon as 
 his consent was gained to it, another scheme was add- 
 ed to the first. This was to profit by the disorder in 
 which the Spanish Low Countries were thrown, and 
 to make them revolt against the Imperials at the very 
 moment when the affair of Scotland would bewilder the 
 allies, and deprive them of all support from England. 
 Bergheyck, a man well acquainted with the state of 
 those countries, was consulted, and thought the scheme 
 good. He and the Due de Yendome conferred upon it 
 in presence of the King. 
 
 After talking over various matters, the discussion fell 
 upon the Meuse, and its position \\ith reference to 
 Maestricht. Vendome held that the Meuse flowed in 
 a certain direction. Bergheyck opposed him. Ven- 
 dome, indignant that a civilian should dare to dispute
 
 148 Memoirs of 
 
 military movements with him, grew warm. The other 
 remained respectful and cool, but firm. Vendome 
 laughed at Bergheyck, as at an ignorant fellow who 
 did not know the position of places. Bergheyck main- 
 tained his point. Vendome grew more and more hot. 
 If he was right, what he proposed was easy enough; if 
 wrong, it was impossible. It was in vain that Ven- 
 dome pretended to treat with disdain his opponent ; 
 Bergheyck was not to be put down, and the King, 
 tired out at last with a discussion upon a simple ques- 
 tion of fact, examined the maps. He found at once 
 that Bergheyck was right. Any other than the King 
 would have felt by this what manner of man was this 
 general of his taste, of his heart, and of his confidence; 
 any other than Vendome would have been confounded; 
 but it was Bergheyck in reality who was so, to see the 
 army in such hands and the blindness of the King for 
 him! He was immediately sent into Flanders to work 
 up a revolt, and he did it so well, that success seemed 
 certain, dependent, of course, upon success in Scotland. 
 The preparations for the invasion of that country 
 \vere at once commenced. Thirty vessels were armed 
 at Dunkerque and in the neighbouring ports. The 
 Chevalier de Forbin was chosen to command the squad- 
 ron. Four thousand men were brought from Flanders 
 to Dunkerque; and it was given out that this move- 
 ment was a mere change of garrison. The secret of 
 the expedition was well kept; but the misfortune was 
 that things were done too slowly. The fleet, which de- 
 pended upon Pontchartrain, was not ready in time, and 
 that which depended upon Chamillart, was still more 
 behind hand. The two ministers threw the fault upon
 
 Saint-Simon 149 
 
 each other; but the truth is, both were to blame. Pont- 
 chartrain was more than accused of delaying matters 
 from unwillingness; the other from powerlessness. 
 
 Great care was taken that no movement should be 
 seen at Saint Germain. The affair, however, began in 
 time to get noised abroad. A prodigious quantity of 
 arms and clothing for the Scotch had been embarked; 
 the movements by sea and land became only too visible 
 upon the coast. At last, on "Wednesday, the 6th of 
 March, the King of England set out from Saint Ger- 
 main. He was attended by the Duke of Perth, who 
 had been his sub-preceptor; by the two Hamiltons, by 
 Middleton, and a very few others. But his departure 
 had been postponed too long. At the moment when 
 all were ready to start, people learned with surprise that 
 the English fleet had appeared in sight, and was block- 
 ading Dunkcrque. Our troops, who were already on 
 board ship, were at once landed. The King of Eng- 
 land cried out so loudly against this, and proposed so 
 eagerly that an attempt should be made to pass the 
 enemy at all risks, that a fleet was sent out to recon- 
 noitre the enemy, and the troops were re-embarked. 
 But then a fresh mischance happened. The Princess 
 of England had had the measles, and was barely grow- 
 ing convalescent at the time of the departure of the 
 King, her brother. She had been prevented from see- 
 ing him, lest he should be attacked by the same com- 
 plaint. In spite of this precaution, however, it declared 
 itself upon him at Dunkerque, just as the troops were 
 re-embarked. He was in despair, and wished to be 
 wrapped up in blankets and carried on board. The 
 doctors said that it would kill him; and he was obliged
 
 150 Memoirs of 
 
 to remain. The worst of it was, that two of five Scotch 
 deputies who had been hidden at Montrogue, near 
 Paris, had been sent into Scotland a fortnight before, 
 to announce the immediate arrival of the King with 
 arms and troops. The movement which it was felt this 
 announcement would create, increased the impatience 
 for departure. At last, on Saturday, the igth of March, 
 the King of England, half cured and very weak, deter- 
 mined to embark in spite of his physicians, and did so. 
 The enemy's vessels had retired; so, at six o'clock in 
 the morning, our ships set sail with a good breeze, and 
 in the midst of a mist, which hid them from view in 
 about an hour. 
 
 Forty-eight hours after the departure of our squad- 
 ron, twenty-seven English ships of war appeared before 
 Dunkerque. But our fleet was away. The very first 
 night it experienced a furious tempest. The ship in 
 which was the King of England took shelter after- 
 wards behind the works of Ostend. During the storm, 
 another ship was separated from the squadron, and was 
 obliged to take refuge on the coast of Picardy. This 
 vessel, a frigate, was commanded by Rambure, a lieu- 
 tenant. As soon as he was able he sailed after the 
 squadron that he believed already in Scotland. He di- 
 rected his course towards Edinburgh, and found no 
 vessel during all the voyage. As he approached the 
 mouth of the river, he saw around him a number of 
 barques and small vessels that he could not avoid, and 
 that he determined in consequence to approach with as 
 good a grace as possible. The masters of these ships 
 told him that the King was expected with impatience, 
 but that they had no news of him, that they had come
 
 Saint-Simon 151 
 
 out to meet him, and that they would send pilots to 
 Rambure, to conduct him up the river to Edinburgh, 
 where all was hope and joy. Rambure, equally sur- 
 prised that the squadron which bore the King of Eng- 
 land had not appeared, and of the publicity of his forth- 
 coming arrival, went up towards Edinburgh more and 
 more surrounded by barques, which addressed to him 
 the same language. A gentleman of the country 
 passed from one of these barques upon the frigate. He 
 told Rambure that the principal noblemen of Scotland 
 had resolved to act together, that these noblemen could 
 count upon more than twenty thousand men ready to 
 take up arms, and that all the towns awaited only the 
 arrival of the King to proclaim him. 
 
 More and more troubled that the squadron did not 
 appear, Rambure, after a time, turned back and went 
 in search of it. As he approached the mouth of the 
 river, which he had so lately entered, he heard a great 
 noise of cannon out at sea, and a short time afterwards 
 he saw many vessels of war there. Approaching more 
 and more, and quitting the river, he distinguished our 
 squadron, chased by twenty-six large ships of war and 
 a number of other vessels, all of which he soon lost 
 sight of, so much was our squadron in advance. He 
 continued on his course in order to join them; but he 
 could not do so until all had passed by the mouth of 
 the river. Then steering clear of the rear-guard of the 
 English ships, he remarked that the English fleet was 
 hotly chasing the ship of the King of England, which 
 ran along the coast, however, amid the fire of cannon 
 and oftentimes of musketry. Rambure tried, for a long 
 time, to profit by the lightness of his frigate to get
 
 152 Memoirs of 
 
 ahead ; but, always cut off by the enemy's vessels, and 
 continually in danger of being taken, he returned to 
 Dunkerque, where he immediately despatched to the 
 Court this sad and disturbing news. He was followed, 
 five or six days after, by the King of England, who 
 returned to Dunkerque on the 7th of April, with his 
 vessels badly knocked about. 
 
 It seems that the ship in which was the Prince, after 
 experiencing the storm I have already alluded to, set 
 sail again with its squadron, but twice got out of its 
 reckoning within forty-eight hours; a fact not easy to 
 understand in a voyage from Ostend to Edinburgh. 
 This circumstance gave time to the English to join 
 them; thereupon the King held a council, and much 
 time was lost in deliberations. When the squadron 
 drew near the river, the enemy was so close upon us, 
 that to enter, without fighting either inside or out, 
 seemed impossible. In this emergency it was sug- 
 gested, that our ships should go on to Inverness, about 
 eighteen or twenty leagues further off. But this was 
 objected to by Middleton and the Chevalier Forbin, who 
 declared that the King of England was expected only 
 at Edinburgh, and that it \vas useless to go elsewhere; 
 and accordingly the project was given up, and the ships 
 returned to France. 
 
 This return, however, was not accomplished without 
 some difficulty. The enemy's fleet attacked the rear- 
 guard of ours, and after an obstinate combat, took two 
 vessels of war and some other vessels. Among the 
 prisoners made by the English were the Marquis dc 
 Levi, Lord Griffin, and the two sons of Middlcton; who 
 all, after suffering some little bad treatment, were con- 
 ducted to London.
 
 Saint-Simon 153 
 
 Lord Griffin was an old Englishman, who deserves a 
 word of special mention. A firm Protestant, but much 
 attached to the King of England, he knew nothing of 
 this expedition until after the King's departure. He 
 went immediately in quest of the Queen. With Eng- 
 lish freedom he reproached her for the little confidence 
 she had had in him, in spite of his services and his 
 constant fidelity, and finished by assuring her that nei- 
 ther his age nor his religion would hinder him from 
 serving the King to the last drop of his blood. He 
 spoke so feelingly that the Queen was ashamed. After 
 this he went to Versailles, asked M. de Toulouse for a 
 hundred louis and a horse, and without delay rode off 
 to Dunkerque, where he embarked with the others. 
 In London he was condemned to death ; but he showed 
 so much firmness and such disdain of death, that his 
 judges were too much ashamed to allow the execution 
 to be carried out. The Queen sent him one respite, 
 then another, although he had never asked for either, 
 and finally he was allowed to remain at liberty in Lon- 
 don on parole. He always received fresh respites, and 
 lived in London as if in his own country, well received 
 everywhere. Being informed that these respites would 
 never cease, he lived thus several years, and died very 
 old, a natural death. The other prisoners were equally 
 well treated. 
 
 It was in this expedition that the King of England 
 first assumed the title of the Chevalier de Saint George, 
 and that his enemies gave him that of the Pretender; 
 both of which have remained to him. He showed much 
 will and firmness, which he spoiled by a docility, the 
 result of a bad education, austere and confined, that
 
 154 Memoirs of 
 
 devotion, ill understood, together with the desire of 
 maintaining him in fear and dependence, caused the 
 Queen (who, with all her sanctity, always wished to 
 dominate) to give him. He asked to serve in the next 
 campaign in Flanders, and wished to go there at once, 
 or remain near Dunkerque. Service was promised him, 
 but he was made to return to Saint Germain. Hough, 
 who had been made a peer of Ireland before starting, 
 preceded him with the journals of the voyage, and that 
 of Forbin, to whom the King gave a thousand crowns 
 pension and ten thousand as a recompense. 
 
 The King of England arrived at Saint Germain on 
 Friday, the 2Oth of April, and came with the Queen, the 
 following Sunday, to Marly, where our King was. The 
 two Kings embraced each other several times, in the 
 presence of the two Courts. But the visit altogether 
 was a sad one. The Courts, which met in the garden, 
 returned towards the Chateau, exchanging indifferent 
 words in an indifferent way. 
 
 Middleton was strongly suspected of having ac- 
 quainted the English with our project. They acted, at 
 all events, as if they had been informed of everything, 
 and wished to appear to know nothing. They made a 
 semblance of sending their fleet to escort a convoy to 
 Portugal; they got in readiness the few troops they 
 had in England and sent them towards Scotland; and 
 the Queen, under various pretexts, detained in Lon- 
 don, until the affair had failed, the Duke of Hamilton, 
 the most powerful Scotch lord, and the life and soul 
 of the expedition. When all was over, she made no 
 arrests, and wisely avoided throwing Scotland into de- 
 spair. This conduct much augmented her authority
 
 Saint-Simon 
 
 155 
 
 in England, attached all hearts to her, and took away 
 all desire of stirring again by taking away all hope of 
 success. Thus failed a project so well and so secretly 
 conducted until the end, which was pitiable; and with 
 this project failed that of the Low Countries, which 
 was no longer thought of. 
 
 The allies uttered loud cries against this attempt on 
 the part of a power they believed at its last gasp, and 
 which, while pretending to seek peace, thought of noth- 
 ing less than the invasion of Great Britain. The effect 
 of our failure was to bind closer, and to irritate more 
 and more this formidable alliance.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Death and Character of Brissac Brissac and the Court Ladies 
 The Duchesse de Bourgogne Scene at the Carp Basin 
 King's Selfishness The King Cuts Samuel Bernard's Purse 
 A Vain Capitalist Story of Leon and Florence the 
 Actress His Loves with Mademoiselle de Roquelaure 
 Run-away Marriage Anger of Madame de Roquelaure A 
 Furious Mother Opinions of the Court A Mistake In- 
 terference of the King Fate of the Couple. 
 
 BRISSAC, Major of the Body-guards, died of age 
 and ennui about this time, more than eighty 
 years old, at his country-house, to which he had not 
 long retired. The King had made use of him to put 
 the Guards upon that grand military footing they have 
 reached. He had acquired the confidence of the King 
 by his inexorable exactitude, his honesty, and his apti- 
 tude. He was a sort of wild boar, who had all the 
 appearance of a bad man, without being so in reality ; 
 but his manners were, it must be admitted, harsh and 
 disagreeable. The King, speaking one day of the 
 majors of the troops, said that if they were good, they 
 were sure to be hated. 
 
 " If it is necessary to be perfectly hated in order to 
 be a good major," replied M. de Duras, who was be- 
 hind the King with the baton, " behold, Sire, the best 
 
 156
 
 Saint-Simon 157 
 
 major in France ! " and he took Brissac, all confusion, 
 by the arm. The King laughed, though he would 
 have thought such a sally very bad in any other ; but 
 M. de Duras had put himself on such a free footing, 
 that he stopped at nothing before the King, and often 
 said the sharpest things. This major had very robust 
 health, and laughed at the doctors very often, even 
 before the King, at Fagon, whom nobody else would 
 have dared to attack. Fagon replied by disdain, often 
 by anger, and with all his wit was embarrassed. These 
 short scenes were sometimes very amusing. 
 
 Brissac, a few years before his retirement, served 
 the Court ladies a nice turn. All through the winter 
 they attended evening prayers on Thursdays and Sun- 
 clays, because the King went there ; and, under the 
 pretence of reading their prayer-books, had little tapers 
 before them, which cast a light on their faces, and 
 enabled the King to recognise them as he passed. On 
 the evenings when they knew he would not go, scarcely 
 one of them went. One evening, when the King was 
 expected, all the ladies had arrived, and were in their 
 places, and the guards were at their doors. Suddenly, 
 Brissac appeared in the King's place, lifted his baton, 
 and cried aloud, " Guards of the King, withdraw, re- 
 turn to your quarters ; the King is not coining this 
 evening." The guards withdrew ; but alter they had 
 proceeded a short distance, were stopped by brigadiers 
 posted for the purpose, and told to return in a few 
 minutes. What Brissac had said was a joke. The 
 ladies at once began to murmur one to another. In a 
 moment or two all the candles were put out, and the 
 ladies, with but few exceptions, left the chapel. Soon
 
 158 Memoirs of 
 
 after the King arrived, and, much astonished to see so 
 
 few ladies present, asked how it was that nobody was 
 there. At the conclusion of the prayers Brissac re- 
 lated what he had done, not without dwelling on the 
 piety of the Court ladies. The King and all who 
 accompanied him laughed heartily. The story soon 
 spread, and these ladies would have strangled Brissac 
 if they had been able. 
 
 The Duchesse de Bourgogne being in the family 
 way this spring, was much inconvenienced. The King 
 wished to go to Fontainebleau at the commencement 
 of the fine season, contrary to his usual custom ; and 
 had declared this wish. In the mean time he desired 
 to pay visits to Marly. Madame de Bourgogne much 
 amused him ; he could not do without her, yet so much 
 movement was not suitable to her state. Madame de 
 Maintenon was uneasy, and Fagon gently intimated 
 his opinion. This annoyed the King, accustomed to 
 restrain himself for nothing, and spoiled by having 
 seen his mistresses travel when big with child, or when 
 just recovering from their confinement, and always in 
 full dress. The hints against going to Marly bothered 
 him, but did not make him give them up. All he 
 would consent to was, that the journey should be put 
 off from the day after Quasimodo to the Wednesday 
 of the following week ; but nothing could make him 
 delay his amusement beyond that time, or induce him 
 to allow the Princess to remain at Versailles. 
 
 On the following Saturday, as the King was taking 
 a walk after mass, and amusing himself at the carp 
 basin between the Chateau and the Perspective, we 
 saw the Duchesse de Lude coming' towards him on foot
 
 Saint-Simon 159 
 
 and all alone, which, as no lady was with the King, was 
 a rarity in the morning. We understood that she had 
 something important to say to him, and when he was a 
 short distance from her, we stopped so as to allow him 
 to join her alone. The interview was not long. She 
 went away again, and the King came back towards 
 us and near the carps without saying a word. Each 
 saw clearly what was in the wind, and nobody was eager 
 to speak. At last the King, when quite close to the 
 basin, looked at the principal people around, and with- 
 out addressing anybody, said, with an air of vexation, 
 these few words : 
 
 " The Duchesse de Bourgogne is hurt." 
 M. de la Rochefoucauld at once uttered an exclama- 
 tion. M. de Bouillon, the Due de Tresmes, and Mare- 
 chal de Boufflers repeated in a low tone the words I 
 have named; and M. de la Rochefoucauld returning 
 to the charge, declared emphatically that it was the 
 greatest misfortune in the world, and that as she had 
 already wounded herself on other occasions, she might 
 never, perhaps, have any more children. 
 
 " And if so/' interrupted the King all on a sudden, 
 with anger, " what is that to me ? Has she not already 
 a son ; and if he should die, is not the Due de Berry old 
 enough to marry and have one ? \Yhat matters it to 
 me who succeeds me, the one or the other? Are 
 they not all equally my grandchildren? " And imme- 
 diately, with impetuosity he added, " Thank God, she 
 is wounded, since she was to be so ; and I shall no 
 longer be annoyed in my journeys and in everything 
 I wish to do, by the representations of doctors and the 
 reasonings of matrons. I shall go and come at my 
 pleasure, and shall be left in peace."
 
 160 Memoirs of 
 
 A silence so deep that an ant might be heard to 
 walk, succeeded this strange outburst. All eyes were 
 lowered ; no one scarcely dared to breathe. All re- 
 mained stupefied. Even the domestics and the gar- 
 deners stood motionless. 
 
 This silence lasted more than a quarter of an hour. 
 The King broke it as he leaned upon a balustrade to 
 speak of a carp. Xobody replied. He addressed 
 himself afterwards on the subject of these carps to 
 domestics, who did not ordinarily join in the conver- 
 sation. Nothing but carps was spoken of with them. 
 All was languishing, and the King went away some 
 time after. As soon as we dared look at each other 
 out of his sight, our eyes met and told all. Everybody 
 there was for the moment the confidant of his neigh- 
 bour. We admired we marvelled we grieved, we 
 shrugged our shoulders. However distant may be 
 that scene, it is always equally present to me. M. de 
 la Rochefoucauld was in a fury, and this time without 
 being wrong. The chief ecuyer was ready to faint 
 with affright ; I myself examined everybody with my 
 eyes and ears, and was satisfied with myself for having 
 long since thought that the King loved and cared for 
 himself alone, and was himself his only object in life. 
 This strange discourse sounded far and wide much 
 beyond Marly. 
 
 Let me here relate another anecdote of the King 
 a trifle I was witness of. It was on the 7th of May, 
 of this year, and at Marly. The King walking round 
 the gardens, showing them to Bergheyck, and talking 
 with him upon the approaching campaign in Flanders, 
 stopped before one of the pavilions. It was that occu-
 
 Saint-Simon 161 
 
 pied by Desmarets, who had recently succeeded Cha- 
 millart in the direction of the finances, and who was 
 at work within with Samuel Bernard, the famous 
 banker, the richest man in Europe, and whose money 
 dealings were the largest. The King observed to 
 Desmarets that he was very glad to see him with M. 
 Bernard ; then immediately said to this latter : 
 
 " You are just the man never to have seen Marly 
 come and see it now ; I will give you up afterwards to 
 Desmarets." 
 
 Bernard followed, and while the walk lasted the 
 King spoke only to Bergheyck and to Bernard, leading 
 them everywhere, and showing them everything with 
 the grace he so well knew how to employ when he 
 desired to overwhelm. I admired, and I was not the 
 only one, this species of prostitution of the King, so 
 niggard of his words, to a man of Bernard's degree. 
 I was not long in learning the cause of it, and I ad- 
 mired to see how low the greatest kings sometimes 
 find themselves reduced. 
 
 Our finances just then were exhausted. Desmarets 
 no longer knew of what wood to make a crutch. He 
 had been to Paris knocking at every door. But the 
 most exact engagements had been so often broken that 
 he found nothing but excuses and closed doors. Ber- 
 nard, like the rest, would advance nothing. Much was 
 clue to him. In vain Desmarets represented to him 
 the pressing necessity for money, and the enormous 
 gains he had made out of the King. Bernard re- 
 mained unshakeable. The King and the minister were 
 cruelly embarrassed. Desmarets said to the King 
 that, after all was said and done, only Samuel Bernard 
 VOL. II. ii
 
 162 Memoirs of 
 
 could draw them out of the mess, because it was not 
 doubtful that he had plenty of money everywhere ; 
 that the only thing needed was to vanquish his de- 
 termination and the obstinacy even insolence he 
 had shown ; that he was a man crazy with vanity, and 
 capable of opening his purse if the King deigned to 
 flatter him. 
 
 It was agreed, therefore, that Desmarets should in- 
 vite Bernard to dinner should walk with him and 
 that the King should come and disturb them as I have 
 related. Bernard was the dupe of this scheme ; he 
 returned from his walk with the King enchanted to 
 such an extent that he said he would prefer ruining 
 himself rather than leave in embarrassment a Prince 
 who had just treated him so graciously, and whose 
 eulogiums he uttered with enthusiasm ! Desmarets 
 profited by this trick immediately, and drew much 
 more from it than he had proposed to himself. 
 
 The Prince de Leon had an adventure just about 
 this time, which made much noise. He was a great, 
 ugly, idle, mischievous fellow, son of the Due de 
 Rohan, who had given him the title I have just named. 
 He had served in one campaign very indolently, and 
 then quitted the army, under pretence of ill-health, to 
 serve no more. Glib in speech, and with the manners 
 of the great world, he was full of caprices and fancies ; 
 although a great gambler and spendthrift, he was 
 miserly, and cared only for himself. He had been 
 enamoured of Florence, an actress, whom M. d'Or- 
 leans had for a long time kept, and by whom he had 
 children, one of whom is now Archbishop of Cambrai. 
 M. de Leon also had several children by this creature,
 
 Saint-Simon 163 
 
 and spent large sums upon her. When he went in 
 place of his father to open the States of Brittany, she 
 accompanied him in a coach and six horses, with a 
 ridiculous scandal. His father was in agony lest he 
 should marry her. He offered to insure her five thou- 
 sand francs a-year pension, and to take care of their 
 children, if M. de Leon would quit her. But M. de 
 Leon would not hear of this, and his father accordingly 
 complained to the King. The King summoned M. de 
 Leon into his cabinet ; but the young man pleaded his 
 cause so well there, that he gained pity rather than 
 condemnation. Nevertheless, La Florence was car- 
 ried away from a pretty little house at the Ternes, near 
 Paris, where AI. de Leon kept her, and was put in a 
 convent. M. de Leon became furious ; for some time 
 he would neither see nor speak of his father or mother, 
 and repulsed all idea of marriage. 
 
 At last, however, no longer hoping to see his actress, 
 he not only consented, but wished to marry. His 
 parents were delighted at this, and at once looked about 
 for a wife for him. Their choice fell upon the eldest 
 daughter of the Due de Roquelaure, who, although 
 humpbacked and extremely ugly, was to be very rich 
 some day, and was, in fact, a very good match. The 
 affair had been arranged and concluded up to a certain 
 point, when all was broken off, in consequence of the 
 haughty obstinacy with which the Duchesse de Roque- 
 laure demanded a larger sum with M. de Leon than 
 M. de Rohan chose to give. 
 
 The young couple were in despair : M. de Leon, lest 
 his father should always act in this way, as an excuse 
 for giving him nothing; the young lady, because she
 
 164 Memoirs of 
 
 feared she should rot in a convent, through the avarice 
 of her mother, and never marry. She was more than 
 twenty-four years of age ; he was more than eight-and- 
 twenty. She was in the convent of the Daughters of 
 the Cross in the Faubourg Saint Antoine. 
 
 As soon as M. de Leon learnt that the marriage was 
 broken off, he hastened to the convent ; and told all to 
 Mademoiselle de Roquelaure ; played the passionate, 
 the despairing; said that if they waited for their par- 
 ents' consent they would never marry, and that she 
 would rot in her convent. He proposed, therefore, 
 that, in spite of their parents, they should marry and 
 become their own guardians. She agreed to this proj- 
 ect, and he went away in order to execute it. 
 
 One of the most intimate friends of Madame de 
 Roquelaure was Madame de la Vieuville, and she was 
 the only person (excepting Madame de Roquelaure 
 herself) to whom the Superior of the convent had per- 
 mission to confide Mademoiselle de Roquelaure. 
 Madame de la Yieuville often came to see Mademoi- 
 selle de Roquelaure to take her out, and sometimes 
 sent for her. M. de Leon was made acquainted with 
 this, and took his measures accordingly. He pro- 
 cured a coach of the same size, shape, and fittings as 
 that of Madame de la Vieuville, with her arms upon it, 
 and with three servants in her livery ; he counterfeited 
 a letter in her handwriting and with her seal, and sent 
 this coach with a lackey well instructed to carry the 
 letter to the convent, on Tuesday morning, the 29th of 
 May, at the hour Madame de la Vieuville was accus- 
 tomed to send for her. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Roquelaure, who had been let into
 
 Saint-Simon 165 
 
 the scheme, carried the letter to the Superior of the 
 convent, and said Madame de la Vieuville had sent for 
 her. Had the Superior any message to send? 
 
 The Superior, accustomed to these invitations, did 
 not even look at the letter, but gave her consent at 
 once. Mademoiselle de Roquelaure, accompanied 
 solely by her governess, left the convent immediately, 
 and entered the coach, which drove off directly. At 
 the first turning it stopped, and the Prince de Leon, 
 who had been in waiting, jumped in. The governess 
 at this began to cry out with all her might ; but at the 
 very first sound M. de Leon thrust a handkerchief into 
 her mouth and stifled the noise. The coachman mean- 
 while lashed his horses, and the vehicle went off at full 
 speed to Bruyeres near Menilmontant, the country- 
 house of the Due de Lorges, my brother-in-law, and 
 friend of the Prince de Leon, and who, with the Comte 
 de Rieux, awaited the runaway pair. 
 
 An interdicted and wandering priest was in waiting, 
 and as soon as they arrived married them. My 
 brother-in-law then led these nice young people into 
 a fine chamber, where they were undressed, put to bed, 
 and left alone for two or three hours. A good meal 
 was then given to them, after which the bride was put 
 into the coach, with her attendant, who was in despair, 
 and driven back to the convent. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Roquelaure at once went delib- 
 erately to the Superior, told her all that happened, and 
 then calmly went into her chamber, and wrote a fine 
 letter to her mother, giving her an account of her 
 marriage, and asking for pardon : the Superior of the 
 convent, the attendants, and all the household being,
 
 1 66 Memoirs of 
 
 meanwhile, in the utmost emotion at what had oc- 
 curred. 
 
 The rage of the Duchesse de Roquelaure at this 
 incident may be imagined. In her first unreasoning 
 fury, she went to Madame de la Vieuville, who, all in 
 ignorance of what had happened, was utterly at a loss 
 to understand her stormy and insulting reproaches. 
 At last Madame de Roquelaure saw that her friend 
 was innocent of all connection with the matter, and 
 turned the current of her wrath upon M. de Leon, 
 against whom she felt the more indignant, inasmuch 
 as he had treated her with much respect and attention 
 since the rupture, and had thus, to some extent, gained 
 her heart. Against her daughter she was also indig- 
 nant, not only for what she had done, but because she 
 had exhibited much gaiety and freedom of spirit at 
 the marriage repast, and had diverted the company 
 by some songs. 
 
 The Due and Duchesse de Rohan were on their side 
 equally furious, although less to be pitied, and made a 
 strange uproar. Their son, troubled to know how to 
 extricate himself from this affair, had recourse to his 
 aunt, Soubise, so as to assure himself of the King. 
 She sent him to Pontchartrain to see the chancellor. 
 M. de Leon saw him the day after this fine marriage, 
 at five o'clock in the morning, as he was dressing. 
 The chancellor advised him to do all he could to gain 
 the pardon of his father and of Madame de Roque- 
 laure. But he had scarcely begun to speak, when 
 Madame de Roquelaure sent word to say, that she 
 was close at hand, and wished the chancellor to come 
 and see her. He did so, and she immediately poured
 
 Saint-Simon 167 
 
 out all her griefs to him, saying that she came not to 
 ask his advice, but to state her complaint as to a friend 
 (they were very intimate), and as to the chief officer 
 of justice to demand justice of him. When he at- 
 tempted to put in a word on behalf of M. de Leon, her 
 fury burst out anew ; she would not listen to his words, 
 but drove off to Marly, where she had an interview 
 with .Madame de Maintenon, and by her was presented 
 to the King. 
 
 As soon as she was in his presence, she fell down 
 on her knees before him, and demanded justice in its 
 fullest extent against M. de Leon. The King raised 
 her with the gallantry of a prince to whom she had 
 not been indifferent, and sought to console her ; but 
 as she still insisted upon justice, he asked her if she 
 knew fully what she asked for, which was nothing less 
 than the head of M. de Leon. She redoubled her en- 
 treaties notwithstanding this information, so that the 
 King at last promised her that she should have com- 
 plete justice. With that, and many compliments, he 
 quitted her, and passed into his own rooms with a very 
 serious air, and without stopping for anybody. 
 
 The news of this interview, and of what had taken 
 place, soon spread through the chamber. Scarcely had 
 people begun to pity Madame de Roquelaure, than 
 some, by aversion for the grand imperial airs of this 
 poor mother, the majority, seized by mirth at the 
 idea of a creature, well known to be very ugly and 
 humpbacked, being carried off by such an ugly gallant, 
 burst out laughing, even to tears, and with an up- 
 roar completely scandalous. Madame de Maintenon 
 abandoned herself to mirth, like the rest, and corrected
 
 1 68 Memoirs of 
 
 the others at last, by saying it was not very charitable, 
 in a tone that could impose upon no one. 
 
 Madame de Saint-Simon and I were at Paris. We 
 knew with all Paris of this affair, but were ignorant of 
 the place of the marriage and the part M. de Lorges 
 had had in it, when the third day after the adventure 
 I was startled out of my sleep at five o'clock in the 
 morning, and saw my curtains and my windows open 
 at the same time, and Madame de Saint-Simon and 
 her brother (M. de Lorges) before me. They related 
 to me all that had occurred, and then went away to 
 consult with a skilful person what course to adopt, 
 leaving me to dress. I never saw a man so crestfallen 
 as M. de Lorges. He had confessed what he had done 
 to a clever lawyer, who had much frightened him. 
 After quitting him, he had hastened to us to make 
 us go and see Pontchartrain. The most serious things 
 are sometimes accompanied with the most ridiculous. 
 M. de Lorges upon arriving knocked at the door of a 
 little room which preceded the chamber of Madame 
 de Saint-Simon. My daughter was rather unwell. 
 Madame de Saint-Simon thought she w r as worse, and 
 supposing it was I who had knocked, ran and opened 
 the door. At the sight of her brother she ran back 
 to her bed, to which he followed her, in order to relate 
 his disaster. She rang for the windows to be opened, 
 in order that she might see better. It so happened 
 that she had taken the evening before a new servant, 
 a country girl of sixteen, who slept in the little room. 
 M. de Lorges, in a hurry to be off, told this girl to 
 make haste in opening the windows, and then to go 
 away and close the door. At this, the simple girl, all
 
 Saint-Simon 169 
 
 amazed, took her robe and her cotillon, and went up- 
 stairs to an old chamber-maid, awoke her, and with 
 much hesitation told her what had just happened, and 
 that she had left by the bedside of Madame de Saint- 
 Simon a fine gentleman, very young, all powdered, 
 curled, and decorated, who had driven her very quickly 
 out of the chamber. She was all of a tremble, and 
 much astonished. She soon learnt who he was. The 
 story was told to us, and in spite of our disquietude, 
 much diverted us. 
 
 \Ye hurried away to the chancellor, and he advised 
 the priest, the witnesses to the signatures of the mar- 
 riage, and, in fact, all concerned, to keep out of the 
 way, except M. de Lorges, who he assured us had 
 nothing to fear. \Ye went afterwards to Chamillart, 
 whom we found much displeased, but in little alarm. 
 The King had ordered an account to be drawn up of 
 the whole affair. Nevertheless, in spite of the uproar 
 made on all sides, people began to see that the King 
 would not abandon to public dishonour the daughter 
 of Madame de Roquelaure, nor doom to the scaffold 
 or to civil death in foreign countries the nephew of 
 Madame de Soubise. 
 
 Friends of M. and Madame de Roquelaure tried to 
 arrange matters. They represented that it would be 
 better to accept the marriage as it was than to expose a 
 daughter to cruel dishonour. Strange enough, the 
 Due and Duchesse de Rohan were the most stormy. 
 They wished to drive a very hard bargain in the mat- 
 ter, and made proposals so out of the way, that nothing 
 could have been arranged but for the King. He did 
 what he had never done before in all his life ; he en-
 
 170 Saint-Simon 
 
 tered into all the details ; he begged, then commanded 
 as master ; he had separate interviews with the parties 
 concerned ; and finally appointed the Due d'Aumont 
 and the chancellor to draw up the conditions of the 
 marriage. 
 
 As Madame de Rohan, even after this, still refused 
 to give her consent, the King sent for her, and said 
 that if she and her husband did not at once give in, he 
 would make the marriage valid by his own sovereign 
 authority. Finally, after so much noise, anguish, and 
 trouble, the contract was signed by the two families, 
 assembled at the house of the Duchesse de Roquelaure. 
 The banns were published, and the marriage took 
 place at the church of the Convent of the Cross, where 
 Mademoiselle de Roquelaure had been confined since 
 her beautiful marriage, guarded night and day by five 
 or six nuns. She entered the church by one door, 
 Prince de Leon by another ; not a compliment or a 
 word passed between them ; the curate said mass ; mar- 
 ried them ; they mounted a coach, and drove off to the 
 house of a friend some leagues from Paris. They paid 
 for their folly by a cruel indigence which lasted all their 
 lives, neither of them having survived the Due de 
 Rohan, Monsieur de Roquelaure, or Madame de 
 Roquelaure. They left several children.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The Due d'Orleans in Spain Offends Madame dc> Ursins 
 and Madame de Maintenon Laziness of M. de Vendome in 
 Flanders Battle of Oudenarde Defeat and Disasters 
 Difference of M. de Vendome and the Due de Bourgogne. 
 
 THE war this year proceeded much as before. M. 
 d'Orleans went to Spain again. Before taking the 
 field he stopped at Madrid to arrange matters. There 
 he found nothing prepared, and everything in disorder. 
 He was compelled to work day after day, for many 
 hours, in order to obtain the most necessary supplies. 
 This is what accounted for a delay which was mali- 
 ciously interpreted at Paris into love for the Queen. 
 M. le Due was angry at the idleness in which he was 
 kept; even Madame la Duchesse, who hated him, be- 
 cause she had formerly loved him too well, industrious- 
 ly circulated this report, which was believed at Court, 
 in the city, even in foreign countries, everywhere, save 
 in Spain, where the truth was too well known. It was 
 while he was thus engaged that he gave utterance to a 
 pleasantry that made Madame de Maintenon and Ma- 
 dame des Ursins his two most bitter enemies for ever 
 afterwards. 
 
 One evening he was at table with several French and 
 Spanish gentlemen, all occupied with his vexation
 
 172 Memoirs of 
 
 against Madame des Ursins, who governed everything, 
 and who had not thought of even the smallest thing 
 for the campaign. The supper and the wine somewhat 
 affected M. d'Orleans. Still full of his vexation, he 
 took a glass, and, looking at the company, made an 
 allusion in a toast to the two women, one the captain, 
 the other the lieutenant, who governed France and 
 Spain, and that in so coarse and yet humorous a man- 
 ner, that it struck at once the imagination of the guests. 
 No comment was made, but everybody burst out laugh- 
 ing, sense of drollery overcoming prudence, for it was 
 well known that the she-captain was Madame de Main- 
 tenon, and the she-lieutenant Madame des Ursins. The 
 health was drunk, although the words were not re- 
 peated, and the scandal was strange. 
 
 Half an hour at most after this, Madame des Ursins 
 was informed of what had taken place. She knew well 
 who were meant by the toast, and was transported with 
 rage. She at once wrote an account of the circum- 
 stance to Madame de Maintenon, who. for her part, 
 was quite as furious. Indc ircc. They never pardoned 
 M. d'Orleans, and we shall see how very nearly they 
 succeeded in compassing his death. Until then, Ma- 
 dame de Maintenon had neither liked nor disliked M. 
 d'Orleans. Madame des Ursins had omitted nothing 
 in order to please him. From that moment they swore 
 the ruin of this prince. All the rest of the King's life 
 M. d'Orleans did not fail to find that Madame de Main- 
 tenon was an implacable and cruel enemy. The sad 
 state to which she succeeded in reducing him influenced 
 him during all the rest of his life. As for Madame des 
 Ursins, he soon found a change in her manner. She
 
 Saint-Simon 173 
 
 endeavoured that everything should fail that passed 
 through his hands. There are some wounds that can 
 never be healed ; and it must be admitted that the Duke's 
 toast inflicted one especially of that sort. He felt this; 
 did not attempt any reconciliation; and followed his 
 usual course. I know not if he ever repented of what 
 he had said, whatever cause he may have had, so droll 
 did it seem to him, but he has many times spoken of 
 it since to me, laughing with all his might. I saw all 
 the sad results which might arise from his speech, and 
 nevertheless, while reproaching M. d'Orleans, I could 
 not help laughing myself, so well, so simply, and so 
 wittily expressed was his ridicule of the government on 
 this and the other side of the Pyrenees. 
 
 At last, M. le Due d'Orleans found means to enter 
 upon his campaign, but was so ill-provided, that he 
 never was supplied with more than a fortnight's sub- 
 sistence in advance. He obtained several small suc- 
 cesses; but these were more than swallowed up by a 
 fatal loss in another direction. The island of Sardinia, 
 which was then under the Spanish Crown, was lost 
 through the misconduct of the viceroy, the Duke of 
 Yeragua, and taken possession of by the troops of the 
 Archduke. In the month of October, the island of 
 Minorca also fell into the hands of the Archduke. Port 
 Mahon made but little resistance; so that with this con- 
 quest and Gibraltar, the English found themselves able 
 to rule in the Mediterranean, to winter entire fleets 
 there, and to blockade all the ports of Spain upon that 
 sea. Leaving Spain in this situation, let us turn to 
 Flanders. 
 
 Early in July, we took Ghent and Bruges by surprise,
 
 174 Memoirs of 
 
 and the news of these successes was received with the 
 most unbridled joy at Fontainebleau. It appeared easy 
 to profit by these two conquests, obtained without dif- 
 ficulty, by passing the Escaut, burning Oudenarde, 
 closing the country to the enemies, and cutting them 
 off from all supplies. Ours were very abundant, and 
 came by water, with a camp that could not be attacked. 
 M. de Vendome agreed to all this, and alleged noth- 
 ing against it. There was only one difficulty in the 
 way, his idleness and unwillingness to move from 
 quarters where he was comfortable. He wished to en- 
 joy those quarters as long as possible, and maintained, 
 therefore, that these movements would be just as good 
 if delayed. Monseigneur le Due de Bourgogne main- 
 tained on the contrary, with all the army even the fa- 
 vourites of M. de Vendome that it would be better to 
 execute the operation at once, that there was no reason 
 for delay, and that delay might prove disastrous. He 
 argued in vain. Vendome disliked fatigue and change 
 of quarters. They interfered with the daily life he was 
 accustomed to lead, and which I have elsewhere de- 
 scribed. He would not move. 
 
 Marlborough clearly seeing that M. de Vendome did 
 not at once take advantage of his position, determined 
 to put it out of his power to do so. To reach Ouden- 
 arde, Marlborough had a journey to make of twenty- 
 five leagues. Vendome was so placed that he could 
 have gained it in six leagues at the most. Marlbor- 
 ough put himself in motion with so much diligence that 
 he stole three forced marches before Vendome had the 
 slightest suspicion or information of them. The news 
 reached him in time, but he treated it with contempt
 
 Saint-Simon 175 
 
 according to his custom, assuring himself that he should 
 outstrip the enemy by setting out the next morning. 
 Monseigneur le Due de Bourgogne pressed him to start 
 that evening; such as dared represented to him the 
 necessity and the importance of doing so. All was vain 
 in spite of repeated information of the enemy's march. 
 The neglect was such that bridges had not been thought 
 of for a little brook at the head of the camp, which it 
 was necessary to cross. 
 
 On the next day, Wednesday, the nth of July, a 
 party of our troops, under the command of Biron, which 
 had been sent on in advance to the Escaut, discovered, 
 after passing it as they could, for the bridges were not 
 yet made, all the army of the enemy bending round 
 towards them, the rear of their columns touching at 
 Oudenarde, where they also had crossed. Biron at 
 once despatched a messenger to the Princes and to M. 
 de Vendome to inform them of this, and to ask for or- 
 ders. Vendome, annoyed by information so different 
 to what he expected, maintained that it could not be 
 true. As he was disputing, an officer arrived from 
 Biron to confirm the news ; but this only irritated Ven- 
 dome anew, and made him more obstinate. A third 
 messenger arrived, and then M. de Yendome, still af- 
 fecting disbelief of the news sent him, flew in a pas- 
 sion, but nevertheless mounted his horse, saying that 
 all this was the work of the devil, and that such dili- 
 gence was impossible. He sent orders to Biron to at- 
 tack the enemy, promising to support him immediately. 
 He told the Princes, at the same time, to gently follow 
 with the whole of the army, while he placed himself 
 at the head of his columns, and pushed on briskly to 
 Biron.
 
 176 Memoirs of 
 
 Biron meanwhile placed his troops as well as he 
 could, on ground very unequal and much cut up. He 
 wished to execute the order he had received, less from 
 any hopes of success in a combat so vastly dispropor- 
 tioned than to secure himself from the blame of a gen- 
 eral so ready to censure those who did not follow his 
 instructions. But he was advised so strongly not to 
 take so hazardous a step, that he refrained. Marechal 
 Matignon, who arrived soon after, indeed specially pro- 
 hibited him from acting. 
 
 While this was passing, Biron heard sharp firing on 
 his left, beyond the village. He hastened there, and 
 found an encounter of infantry going on. He sustained 
 it as well as he could, whilst the enemy were gaining 
 ground on the left, and, the ground being difficult (there 
 was a ravine there), the enemy were kept at bay until 
 M. de Vendome came up. The troops he brought were 
 all out of breath. As soon as they arrived, they threw 
 themselves amidst the hedges, nearly all in columns, 
 and sustained thus the attacks of the enemies, and an 
 engagement which every moment grew hotter, without 
 having the means to arrange themselves in any order. 
 The columns that arrived from time to time to the re- 
 lief of these were as out of breath as the others, and 
 were at once sharply charged by the enemies, who, be- 
 ing extended in lines and in order, knew well how to 
 profit by our disorder. The confusion was very great: 
 the new-comers had no time to rally; there was a long 
 interval between the platoons engaged and those meant 
 to sustain them; the cavalry and the household troops 
 were mixed up pell-mell with the infantry, which in- 
 creased the disorder to such a point that our troops no
 
 Saint-Simon 177 
 
 longer recognised each other. This enabled the enemy 
 to fill up the ravine with fascines sufficient to enable 
 them to pass it, and allowed the rear of their army to 
 make a grand tour by our right to gain the head of the 
 ravine, and take us in flank there. 
 
 Towards this same right were the Princes, who for 
 some time had been looking from a mill at so strange 
 a combat, so disadvantageously commenced. As soon 
 as our troops saw pouring down upon them others 
 much more numerous, they gave way towards their left 
 with so much promptitude that the attendants of the 
 Princes became mixed up with their masters, and all 
 were hurried away towards the thick of the fight, with 
 a rapidity and confusion that were indecent. The 
 Princes showed themselves everywhere, and in places 
 the most exposed, displaying much valour and cool- 
 ness, encouraging the men, praising the officers, asking 
 the principal officers what was to be done, and telling 
 M. de Yendome what they thought. 
 
 The inequality of the ground that the enemies found 
 in advancing, after having driven in our right, enabled 
 our men to rally and to resist. But this resistance was 
 of short duration. Every one had been engaged in 
 hand-to-hand combats; every one was worn out with 
 lassitude and despair of success, and a confusion so 
 general and so unheard-of. The household troops 
 owed their escape to the mistake of one of the enemy's 
 officers, who carried an order to the red coats, think- 
 ing them his own men. He was taken, and seeing that 
 he was about to share the peril with our troops, warned 
 them that they were going to be surrounded. They re- 
 tired in some disorder, and so avoided this. 
 VOL. II. 12
 
 178 Memoirs of 
 
 The disorder increased, however, every moment. 
 Nobody recognised his troop. All were pell-mell, 
 cavalry, infantry, dragoons; not a battalion, not a squad- 
 ron together, and all in confusion, one upon the other. 
 
 Night came. We had lost much ground, one-half 
 of the army had not finished arriving. In this sad situ- 
 ation the Princes consulted with M. de Vendome as to 
 what was to be done. He, furious at being so terribly 
 out of his reckoning, affronted everybody. Mon- 
 seigneur le Due de Bourgogne wished to speak; but 
 Vendome, intoxicated with choler and authority, closed 
 his mouth, by saying to him in an imperious voice be- 
 fore everybody, " That he came to the army only on 
 condition of obeying him." These enormous words, 
 pronounced at a moment in which everybody felt so 
 terribly the weight of the obedience rendered to his idle- 
 ness and obstinacy, made everybody tremble with in- 
 dignation. The young Prince to whom they were ad- 
 dressed, hesitated, mastered himself, and kept silence. 
 Vendome went on declaring that the battle was not lost 
 that it could be recommenced the next morning, when 
 the rest of the army had arrived, and so on. No one 
 of consequence cared to reply. 
 
 From every side soon came information, however, 
 that the disorder was extreme. Puysegur, Matignon, 
 Sousternon, Chelaclet, Puyguyon, all brought the same 
 news. Vendome, seeing that it was useless to resist 
 all this testimony, and beside himself with rage, cried, 
 "Oh, very well, gentlemen! I see clearly what you 
 wish. We must retire, then;" and looking at Mon- 
 seigneur le Due de Bourgogne, he added, " I know you 
 have long wished to do so, Monseigneur."
 
 Saint-Simon 179 
 
 These words, which could not fail to be taken in a 
 double sense, were pronounced exactly as I relate them, 
 and were emphasized in a manner to leave no doubt as 
 to their signification. Monseigneur le Due de Bour- 
 gogne remained silent as before, and for some time the 
 silence was unbroken. At last, Puysegur interrupted 
 it, by asking how the retreat was to be executed. Each, 
 then, spoke confusedly. Yendome, in his turn, kept 
 silence from vexation or embarrassment; then he said 
 they must march to Ghent, without adding how, or any- 
 thing else. 
 
 The day had been very fatiguing; the retreat was 
 long and perilous. The Princes mounted their horses, 
 and took the road to Ghent. Yendome set out with- 
 out giving any orders, or seeing to anything. The 
 general officers returned to their posts, and of them- 
 selves gave the order fdr retreat. Yet so great was 
 the confusion, that the Chevalier Rosel, lieutenant-gen- 
 eral, at the head of a hundred squadrons, received no 
 orders. In the morning he found himself with his 
 hundred squadrons, which had been utterly forgotten. 
 He at once commenced his march ; but to retreat in 
 full daylight was very difficult, as he soon found. He 
 had to sustain the attacks of the enemy during several 
 hours of his march. 
 
 Elsewhere, also, the difficult}- of retreating was great. 
 Fighting went on at various points all night, and the 
 enemy were on the alert. Some of the troops of our 
 right, while debating as to the means of retreat, found 
 they were about to be surrounded by the enemy. The 
 Yidame of Amiens saw that not a moment was to be 
 lost. He cried to the light horse, of which he was
 
 i8o Saint-Simon 
 
 captain, " Follow me," and pierced his way through a 
 line of the enemy's cavalry. He then found himself in 
 front of a line of infantry, which fired upon him, but 
 opened to give him passage. At the same moment, 
 the household troops and others, profiting by a move- 
 ment so bold, followed the Vidame and his men, and 
 all escaped together to Ghent, led on by the Vidame, 
 to whose sense and courage the safety of these troops 
 was owing. 
 
 M. de Vendome arrived at Ghent, between seven and 
 eight o'clock in the morning. Even at this moment 
 he did not forget his disgusting habits, and as soon as 
 he set foot to ground .... in sight of all the 
 troops as they came by,- then at once went to bed, 
 without giving any orders, or seeing to anything, and 
 remained more than thirty hours without rising, in or- 
 der to repose himself after his fatigues. He learnt that 
 Monseigneur de Bourgogne and the army had pushed 
 on to Lawendeghem; but he paid no attention to it, 
 and continued to sup and to sleep at Ghent several days 
 running, without attending to anything.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Conflicting Reports Attacks on the Due de Bourgogne The 
 Duchesse de Bourgogne Acts against Vendome Weakness 
 of the Duke Cunning of Vendome The Siege of Lille 
 Anxiety for a Battle Its Delay Conduct of the King and 
 Monseigneur A Picture of Royal Family Feeling Conduct 
 of the Marechal de Boufrlers. 
 
 AS soon as Monseigneur le Due de Bourgogne ar- 
 rived at Lawendeghem, he wrote a short letter 
 to the King, and referred him for details to M. de Yen- 
 dome. But at the same time he wrote to the Duchess, 
 very clearly expressing to her where the fault lay. M. 
 de Yendume, on his side, wrote to the King, and tried 
 to persuade him that the battle had not been disad- 
 vantageous to us. A short time afterwards, he wrote 
 again, telling the King that he could have beaten the 
 enemies had he been sustained ; and that, if, contrary 
 to his advice, retreat had not been determined on, he 
 would certainly have beaten them the next day. For 
 the details he referred to Monseigneur le Due de Bour- 
 gogne. 
 
 I had always feared that some ill-fortune would fall 
 to the lot of Monseigneur le Due de Bourgogne if he 
 served under M. de Yendome at the army. When I 
 first learnt that he was going to Flanders with M. de 
 
 181
 
 1 82 Memoirs of 
 
 Vendome, I expressed my apprehensions to M. de 
 Beauvilliers, who treated them as unreasonable and 
 ridiculous. He soon had good cause to admit that I 
 had not spoken without justice. Our disasters at 
 Oudenarde were very great. We had many men and 
 officers killed and wounded, four thousand men and 
 seven hundred officers taken prisoners, and a pro- 
 digious quantity missing and dispersed. All these 
 losses were, as I have shown, entirely due to the lazi- 
 ness and inattention of M. de Vendome. Yet the 
 friends of that general and he had many at the Court 
 and in the army actually had the audacity to lay the 
 blame upon Monseigneur le Due de Bourgogne. This 
 was what I had foreseen, viz., M. de Vendome, in case 
 any misfortune occurred, would be sure to throw the 
 burden of it upon Monseigneur le Due de Bourgogne. 
 Alberoni, who, as I have said, was one of M. de 
 Vendome's creatures, published a deceitful and impu- 
 dent letter, in which he endeavoured to prove that M. 
 de Vendome had acted throughout like a good general, 
 but that he had been thwarted by Monseigneur le Due 
 de Bourgogne. This letter was distributed everywhere, 
 and well served the purpose for which it was intended. 
 Another writer, Campistron a poor, starving poet, 
 ready to do anything to live went further. He wrote 
 a letter, in which Monseigneur le Due de Bourgogne 
 was personally attacked in the tenderest points, and 
 in which A'larechal Matignon was said to merit a court- 
 martial for having counselled retreat. This letter, like 
 the other, although circulated with more precaution, 
 was shown even in the cafes and in the theatres ; in 
 the public places of gambling and debauchery; on
 
 Saint-Simon 183 
 
 the promenades, and amongst the newsvendors. 
 Copies of it were even shown in the provinces, and in 
 foreign countries ; but always with much circumspec- 
 tion. Another letter soon afterwards appeared, apolo- 
 gising for M. de Vendome. This was written by 
 Comte d'Evreux, and was of much the same tone as 
 the two others. 
 
 A powerful cabal was in fact got up against Mon- 
 seigneur de Bourgogne. Vaudeville, verses, atrocious 
 songs against him, ran all over Paris and the provinces 
 with a licence and a rapidity that no one checked ; 
 while at the Court, the libertines and the fashionables 
 applauded ; so that in six days it was thought disgrace- 
 ful to speak with any measure of this Prince, even in 
 his father's house. 
 
 Madame de Bourgogne could not witness all this 
 uproar against her husband, without feeling sensibly 
 affected by it. She had been made acquainted by Mon- 
 seigneur de Bourgogne with the true state of the case. 
 She saw her own happiness and reputation at stake. 
 Though very gentle, and still more timid, the grandeur 
 of the occasion raised her above herself. She was 
 cruelly wounded by the insults of Vendome to her 
 husband, and by all the atrocities and falsehoods his 
 emissaries published. She gained Madame de Main- 
 tenon, and the first result of this step was, that the 
 King censured Chamillart for not speaking of the let- 
 ters in circulation, and ordered him to write to Al- 
 beroni and D'Evreux (Campistron, strangely enough, 
 was forgotten), commanding them to keep silence for 
 the future. 
 
 The cabal was amazed to see Madame de Main-
 
 184 Memoirs of 
 
 tenon on the side of Madame de Bourgogne, while 
 M. du Maine (who was generally in accord with Ma- 
 dame de Maintenon) was for M. de Vendome. They 
 concluded that the King had been led away, but that 
 if they held firm, his partiality for M. de Vendome, for 
 M. du Maine, and for bastardy in general, would bring 
 him round to them. In point of fact, the King was led 
 now one way, and now another, with a leaning always 
 towards M. de Vendome. 
 
 Soon after this, Chamillart, who was completely of 
 the party of M. de Vendome, thought fit to write a 
 letter to Monseigneur le Due de Bourgogne, in which 
 he counselled him to live on good terms with his gen- 
 eral. Madame de Bourgogne never forgave Chamillart 
 this letter, and was always annoyed with her husband 
 that he acted upon it. His religious sentiments in- 
 duced him to do so. Vendome so profited by the ad- 
 vances made to him by the young Prince, that he au- 
 daciously brought Alberoni with him \vhen he visited 
 Monseigneur de Bourgogne. This weakness of Mon- 
 seigneur de Bourgogne lost him many friends, and 
 made his enemies more bold than ever. Madame de 
 Bourgogne, however, did not despair. She wrote to 
 her husband that for M. de Vendome she had more 
 aversion and contempt than for any one else in the 
 world, and that nothing would make her forget what 
 he had done. We shall see with \vhat courage she 
 knew how to keep her word. 
 
 While the discussions upon the battle of Oudenarde 
 were yet proceeding, a league was formed with France 
 against the Emperor by all the states of Italy. The 
 King (Louis XIV.) accepted, however, too late, a pro]-
 
 Saint-Simon 185 
 
 ect he himself ought to have proposed and executed. 
 He lost perhaps the most precious opportunity he had 
 had during all his reign. The step he at last took was 
 so apparent that it alarmed the allies, and put them 
 on their guard. Except Flanders, they did nothing in 
 any other spot, and turned all their attention to Italy. 
 
 Let us return, however, to Flanders. 
 
 Prince Eugene, with a large booty gathered in Ar- 
 tois and elsewhere, had fixed himself at Brussels. He 
 wished to bear off his spoils, which required more than 
 five thousand waggons to carry it, and which consisted 
 in great part of provisions, worth three million five 
 hundred thousand francs, and set out with them to 
 join the army of the Duke of Marlborough. Our 
 troops could not, of course, be in ignorance of this. 
 M. de Yendome wished to attack the convoy with half 
 his troops. The project seemed good, and, in case of 
 success, would have brought results equally honour- 
 able and useful. Monseigneur de Bourgogne, how- 
 ever, opposed the attack, I know not why ; and M. de 
 Yendome, so obstinate until then, gave in to him in 
 this case. His object was to ruin the Prince utterly, 
 for allowing such a good chance to escape, the blame 
 resting entirely upon him. Obstinacy and audacity 
 had served M. de Yendome at Oudenarde : he ex- 
 pected no less a success now from his deference. 
 
 Some anxiety was felt just about this time for Lille, 
 which it was feared the enemy would lay siege to. 
 Boufflers went to command there, at his own request, 
 and found the place very ill-garrisoned with raw troops, 
 many of whom had never smelt powder. M. de Yen- 
 dome, however, laughed at the idea of the siege of
 
 1 86 Memoirs of 
 
 Lille, as something mad and ridiculous. Nevertheless, 
 the town was invested on the I2th of August, as the 
 King duly learned on the I4th. Even then, flattery 
 did its work. The friends of Vendome declared that 
 such an enterprise was the best thing that could happen 
 to France, as the besiegers, inferior in numbers to our 
 army, were sure to be miserably beaten. AI. de Ven- 
 dome, in the mean time, did not budge from the post 
 he had taken up near Ghent. The King wrote to him 
 to go with his army to the relief of Lille. M. de Ven- 
 dome still delayed ; another courier was sent, with the 
 same result. At this, the King, losing temper, de- 
 spatched another courier, with orders to Monseigneur 
 de Bourgogne, to lead the army to Lille, if M. de Ven- 
 dome refused to do so. At this, M. de Vendome awoke 
 from his lethargy. He set out for Lille, but took the 
 longest road, and dawdled as long as he could on the 
 way, stopping five days at Mons Puenelle, amongst 
 other places. 
 
 The agitation, meanwhile, in Paris, was extreme. 
 The King demanded news of the siege from his cour- 
 tiers, and could not understand why no couriers ar- 
 rived. It was generally expected that some decisive 
 battle had been fought. Each day increased the un- 
 easiness. The Princes and the principal noblemen 
 of the Court were at the army. Every one at Versailles 
 feared for the safety of a relative or friend. Prayers 
 were offered everywhere. Madame de Bourgogne 
 passed whole nights in the chapel, when people 
 thought her in bed, and drove her women to despair. 
 Following her example, ladies who had husbands at 
 the army stirred not from the churches. Gaming, con-
 
 Saint-Simon 187 
 
 versation ceased. Fear was painted upon every face, 
 and seen in every speech, without shame. If a horse 
 passed a little quickly, everybody ran without know- 
 ing where. The apartments of Chamillart were 
 crowded with lackeys, even into the street, sent by 
 people desiring to be informed of the moment that a 
 courier arrived ; and this terror and uncertainty lasted 
 nearly a month. The provinces were even more 
 troubled than Paris. The King wrote to the Bishop, 
 in order that they should offer up prayers in terms 
 which suited with the danger of the time. It may be 
 judged what was the general impression and alarm. 
 
 It is true, that in the midst of this trepidation, the 
 partisans of M. de Yendome affected to pity that poor 
 Prince Eugene, and to declare that he must inevitably 
 fail in his undertaking; but these discourses did not 
 impose upon me. I knew what kind of enemies we 
 had to deal with, and I foresaw the worst results from 
 the idleness and inattention of M. de Vendome. One 
 evening, in the presence of Chamillart and five or six 
 others, annoyed by the conversation which passed, I 
 offered to bet four pistoles that there would be no 
 general battle, and that Lille would be taken without 
 being relieved. This strange proposition excited much 
 surprise, and caused many questions to be addressed 
 to me. I would explain nothing at all ; but sustained 
 my proposal in the English manner, and my bet w r as 
 taken ; Cani, who accepted it, thanking me for the 
 present of four pistoles I was making him, as he said. 
 The stakes were placed in the hand of Chamillart. 
 
 By the next day, the news of my bet had spread 
 abroad, and made a frightful uproar. The partisans
 
 1 88 Memoirs of 
 
 of M. de Vendome, knowing I was no friend to them, 
 took this opportunity to damage me in the eyes of the 
 King. They so far succeeded that I entirely lost favour 
 with him, without however suspecting it, for more than 
 two months. All that I could do then, was to let the 
 storm pass over my head and keep silent, so as not to 
 make matters worse. 
 
 Meanwhile, M. de Vendome continued the inactive 
 policy he had hitherto followed. In despite of reit- 
 erated advice from the King, he took no steps to attack 
 the enemy. Monseigneur de Bourgogne was for do- 
 ing so, but Vendome would make no movement. As 
 before, too, he contrived to throw all the blame of his 
 inactivity upon Monseigneur de Bourgogne. He suc- 
 ceeded so well in making this believed, that his fol- 
 lowers in the army cried out against the followers of 
 Monseigneur de Bourgogne wherever they appeared. 
 Chamillart was sent by the King to report upon the 
 state and position of our troops, and if a battle had 
 taken place and proved unfavourable to us, to prevent 
 such sad results as had taken place after Ramillies. 
 
 Chamillart came back on the i8th of September. 
 No battle had been fought, but M. de Vendome felt 
 sure, he said, of cutting off all supplies from the en- 
 emy, and thus compelling them to raise the siege. 
 
 The King had need of these intervals of consolation 
 and hope. Master as he might be of his words and of 
 his features, he profoundly felt the powerlessness to re- 
 sist his enemies that he fell into day by day. What I 
 have related about Samuel Bernard, the banker, to 
 whom he almost did the honours of his gardens at 
 Marlv, in order to draw from him the assistance he
 
 Saint-Simon 189 
 
 had refused, is a great proof of this. It was much 
 remarked at Fontainebleau, just as Lille was invested, 
 that, the city of Paris coming to harangue him on the 
 occasion of the oath taken by Bignon, new Prevot des 
 Marchands, he replied, not only with kindness, but that 
 he made use of the term " gratitude for his good city," 
 and that in doing so he lost countenance, two things 
 which during all his reign had never escaped him. On 
 the other hand, he sometimes had intervals of firm- 
 ness which edified less than they surprised. When 
 everybody at the Court was in the anxiety I have al- 
 ready described, he offended them by going out every 
 day hunting or walking, so that they could not know, 
 until after his return, the news which might arrive 
 when he was out. 
 
 As for Monseigneur, he seemed altogether exempt 
 from anxiety. After Ramillies, when everybody was 
 waiting for the return of Chamillart, to learn the truth, 
 Mouseigneur went away to dine at Meudon, saying 
 he should learn the news soon enough. From this 
 time he showed no more interest in what was passing. 
 When news was brought that Lille was invested, he 
 turned on his heel before the letter announcing it had 
 been read to the end. The King called him back to 
 hear the rest. He returned and heard it. The reading 
 finished, he went away, without offering a word. En- 
 tering the apartments of the Princesse de Conti, he 
 found there Madame d'Espinoy, who had much prop- 
 erty in Flanders, and who had wished to take a trip 
 there. 
 
 " Madame," said he, smiling, as he arrived, " how 
 would you do just now to get to Lille ? " And at once
 
 190 Memoirs of 
 
 made them acquainted with the investment. These 
 things really wounded the Princesse de Conti. Ar- 
 riving at Fontainebleau one day, during the move- 
 ments of the army, Monseigneur set to work reciting, 
 for amusement, a long list of strange names of places 
 in the forest. 
 
 " Dear me, Monseigneur," cried she, " what a good 
 memory you have. What a pity it is loaded with such 
 things only ! '' If he felt the reproach, he did not profit 
 by it. 
 
 As for Monseigneur le Due de Bourgogne, Mon- 
 seigneur (his father) was ill-disposed towards him, and 
 readily swallowed all that was said in his dispraise. 
 Monseigneur had no sympathy with the piety of his 
 son ; it constrained and bothered him. The cabal well 
 profited by this. They succeeded to such an extent in 
 alienating the father from the son, that it is only strict 
 truth to say that no one dared to speak well of Mon- 
 seigneur le Due de Bourgogne in the presence of Mon- 
 seigneur. From this it may be imagined what was the 
 licence and freedom of speech elsewhere against this 
 Prince. They reached such a point, indeed, that the 
 King, not daring to complain publicly against the 
 Prince dc Conti, who hated Vendome, for speaking in 
 favour of Monseigneur de Bourgogne, reprimanded 
 him sharply in reality for having done so, but ostensi- 
 bly because he had talked about the affairs of Flanders 
 at his sister's. Madame de Bourgogne did all she could 
 to turn the current that was setting in against her hus- 
 band; and in this she was assisted by Madame de 
 Maintenon, who was annoyed to the last degree to see 
 that other people had more influence over the King 
 than she had.
 
 Saint-Simon 191 
 
 The siege of Lille meanwhile continued, and at last 
 it began to be seen that, instead of attempting to fight 
 a grand battle, the wisest course would be to throw 
 assistance into the place. An attempt was made to 
 do so, but it was now too late. 
 
 The besieged, under the guidance of Marechal Bouf- 
 flers, who watched over all, and attended to all, in a 
 manner that gained him all hearts, made a gallant and 
 determined resistance. A volume would be necessary 
 in order to relate all the marvels of capacity and valour 
 displayed in this defence. Our troops disputed the 
 ground inch by inch. They repulsed, three times run- 
 ning, the enemy from a mill, took it the third time, and 
 burnt it. They sustained an attack, in three places at 
 once, of ten thousand men, from nine o'clock in the 
 evening to three o'clock in the morning, without giving 
 way. They re-captured the sole traverse the enemy 
 had been able to take from them. They drove out the 
 besiegers from the projecting angles of the counter- 
 scarp, which they had kept possession of for eight 
 days. They twice repulsed seven thousand men who 
 attacked their covered way and an outwork ; at the 
 third attack they lost an angle of the outwork, but 
 remained masters of all the rest. 
 
 So many attacks and engagements terribly weak- 
 ened the garrison. On the 28th of September some 
 assistance was sent to the besieged by the daring of 
 the Chevalier de Luxembourg. It enabled them to 
 sustain with vigour the fresh attacks that were di- 
 rected against them, to repulse the enemy, and, by a 
 grand sortie, to damage some of their works, and kill 
 manv of their men. But all was in vain. The enemv
 
 1 92 Memoirs of 
 
 returned again and again to the attack. Every at- 
 tempt to cut off their supplies failed. Finally, on the 
 23rd of October, a capitulation was signed. The place 
 had become untenable ; three new breaches had been 
 made on the 2Oth and 2ist; powder and ammunition 
 were failing; the provisions were almost all eaten up: 
 there was nothing for it but to give in. 
 
 Marechal Boufflers obtained all he asked, and re- 
 tired into the citadel with all the prisoners of war, 
 after two months of resistance. He offered discharge 
 to all the soldiers who did not wish to enter the citadel. 
 But not one of the six thousand he had left to him ac- 
 cepted it. They were all ready for a new resistance, 
 and w r hen their chief appeared among them their joy 
 burst out in the most flattering praises of him. It was 
 on Friday, the 26th of October, that they shut them- 
 selves up in the citadel. 
 
 The enemy opened their trenches before the citadel 
 on the 29th of October. On the 7th of November they 
 made a grand attack, but were repulsed with consider- 
 able loss. But they did not flinch from their work, 
 and Boufflers began to see that he could not long hold 
 out. By the commencement of December he had only 
 twenty thousand pounds of powder left ; very little of 
 other munitions, and still less food. In the town and 
 the citadel they had eaten eight hundred horses. Bouf- 
 flers, as soon as the others were reduced to this food, 
 had it served upon his own table, and ate of it like the 
 rest. The King, learning in what state these soldiers 
 were, personally sent word to Boufflers to surrender, 
 but the Marechal, even after he had received this 
 order, delayed many days to obey it.
 
 Saint-Simon 
 
 193 
 
 At last, in want of the commonest necessaries, and 
 able to protract his defence no longer, he beat a parley, 
 signed a capitulation on the 9th of December, obtain- 
 ing all he asked, and retired from Lille. Prince 
 Eugene, to whom he surrendered, treated him with 
 much distinction and friendship, invited him to dinner 
 several times, overwhelmed him, in fact, with atten- 
 tion and civilities. The Prince was glad indeed to have 
 brought to a successful issue such a difficult siege. 
 
 VOL. II. 13
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Equivocal Position of the Due de Bourgogne His Weak Con- 
 duct Concealment of a Battle from the King Return of 
 the Due de Bourgogne to Court Incidents of His Recep- 
 tion Monseigneur Reception of the Due de Berry 
 Behaviour of the Due de Bourgogne Anecdotes of Ga- 
 maches Return of Vendome to Court His Star Begins 
 to Wane Contrast of Boufflers and Vendome Chamil- 
 lart's Project for Retaking Lille How It Was Defeated by 
 Madame de Maintenon. 
 
 THE position of Monseigneur le Due de Bourgogne 
 at the army continued to be equivocal. He was 
 constantly in collision with M. de Vendome. The lat- 
 ter, after the loss of Lille, wished to defend the Escaut, 
 without any regard to its extent of forty miles. The 
 Due de Bourgogne, as far as he dared, took the part 
 of Berwick, who maintained that the defence was im- 
 possible. The King, hearing of all these disputes, act- 
 ually sent Chamillart to the army to compose them; 
 and it was a curious sight to behold this penman, this 
 financier, acting as arbiter between generals on the 
 most delicate operations of war. Chamillart continued 
 to admire Vendome, and treated the Due de Bourgogne 
 with little respect, both at the army, and, after his re- 
 turn, in conversation with the King. His report was 
 given in presence of Madame de Maintenon, who lis- 
 
 194
 
 Saint-Simon 195 
 
 tened without daring to say a word, and repeated every- 
 thing to the Duchesse de Bourgogne. We may im- 
 agine what passed between them, and the anger of the 
 Princess against the minister. For the present, how- 
 ever, nothing could be done. Berwick was soon after- 
 wards almost disgraced. As soon as he was gone, M. 
 de Vendome wrote to the King, saying, that he was 
 sure of preventing the enemy from passing the Escaut 
 that he answered for it on his head. \Yith such a 
 guarantee from a man in such favour at Court, who 
 could doubt? Yet, shortly after, Marlborough crossed 
 the Escaut in four places, and Vendome actually wrote 
 to the King, begging him to remember that he had 
 always declared the defence of the Escaut to be im- 
 possible! 
 
 The cabal made a great noise to cover this mon- 
 strous audacity, and endeavoured to renew the attack 
 against the Due de Bourgogne. We shall see what 
 success attended their efforts. The army was at Sois- 
 sons, near Tournai, in a profound tranquillity, the 
 opium of which had gained the Due de Bourgogne, 
 when news of the approach of the enemy was brought. 
 M. de Vendome advanced in that direction, and sent 
 word to the Duke, that he thought he ought to advance 
 on the morrow with all his army. The Duke was going 
 to bed when he received the letter; and although it was 
 too late to repulse the enemy, was much blamed for 
 continuing to undress himself, and putting off action 
 till the morrow. 
 
 To this fault he added another. He had eaten; it 
 was very early; and it was no longer proper to march. 
 It was necessary to wait fresh orders from M. de Ven-
 
 196 Memoirs of 
 
 dome. Tournai was near. The Due de Bourgogne 
 went there to have a game at tennis. This sudden 
 party of pleasure strongly scandalized the army, and 
 raised all manner of unpleasant talk. Advantage was 
 taken of the young Prince's imprudence to throw upon 
 him the blame of what was caused by the negligence 
 of M. de Vendome. 
 
 A serious and disastrous action that took place dur- 
 ing these operations was actually kept a secret from 
 the King, until the Due de la Tremoille, whose son 
 was engaged there, let out the truth. Annoyed that 
 the King said nothing to him on the way in which his 
 son had distinguished himself, he took the opportunity, 
 whilst he was serving the King, to talk of the passage 
 of the Escaut, and said that his son's regiment had 
 much suffered. " How, suffered? " cried the King; 
 " nothing has happened." Whereupon the Duke re- 
 lated all to him. The King listened with the greatest 
 attention, and questioned him, and admitted before 
 everybody that he knew nothing of all this. His sur- 
 prise, and the surprise it occasioned, may be imagined. 
 
 It happened that when the King left table, Chamillart 
 unexpectedly came into his cabinet. He was soon 
 asked about the action of the Escaut, and why it had 
 not been reported. The minister, embarrassed, said 
 that it was a thing of no consequence. The King con- 
 tinued to press him, mentioned details, and talked of 
 the regiment of the Prince of Tarento. Chamillart 
 then admitted that what happened at the passage was 
 so disagreeable, and the combat so disagreeable, but so 
 little important, that Madame de Maintenon, to whom 
 he had reported all, had thought it best not to trouble
 
 Saint-Simon 197 
 
 the King upon the matter, and it had accordingly been 
 agreed not to trouble him. Upon this singular answer 
 the King stopped short in his questions, and said not 
 a word more. 
 
 The Escaut being forced, the citadel of Lille on the 
 point of being taken, our army exhausted with fatigue 
 was at last dispersed, to the scandal of everybody; for 
 it was known that Ghent was about to be besieged. 
 The Princes received orders to return to Court, but they 
 insisted on the propriety of remaining with the army. 
 M. de Vendome, who began to fear the effect of his 
 rashness and insolence, tried to obtain permission 
 to pass the winter with the army on the frontier. He 
 was not listened to. The Princes received orders most 
 positively to return to Court, and accordingly set out. 
 
 The Duchesse de Bourgogne was very anxious about 
 the way in which the Duke was to be received, and eager 
 to talk to him and explain how matters stood, before 
 he saw the King or anybody else. I sent a message to 
 him that he ought to contrive to arrive after midnight, 
 in order to pass two or three hours with the Duchess, 
 and perhaps see Madame de Maintenon early in the 
 morning. My message was not received; at any rate 
 not followed. The Due de Bourgogne arrived on the 
 nth of December, a little after seven o'clock in the 
 evening, just as Monseigneur had gone to the play, 
 whither the Duchess had not gone, in order to wait 
 for her husband. I know not why he alighted in the 
 Cotir des Princes, instead of the Great Court. I was 
 put then in the apartments of the Comtessc de Roncy, 
 from which I could see all that passed. I came down, 
 and saw the Prince ascending the steps between the
 
 198 Memoirs of 
 
 Dues dc Beauvilliers and De la Rocheguyon, who hap- 
 pened to be there. He looked quite satisfied, was gay, 
 and laughing, and spoke right and left. I bowed to 
 him. He did me the honour to embrace me in a way 
 that showed me he knew better what was going on 
 than how to maintain his dignity. He then talked only 
 to me, and whispered that he knew what I had said. 
 A troop of courtiers met him. In their midst he passed 
 the Great Hall of the Guards, and instead of going to 
 Madame de Maintenon's by the private door, though 
 the nearest way, went to the great public entrance. 
 There was no one there but the King and Madame de 
 Maintenon, with Pontchartrain; for I do not count the 
 Dnchesse de Bourgogne. Pontchartrain noted well 
 what passed at the interview, and related it all to me that 
 very evening. 
 
 As soon as in Madame de Maintenon's apartment 
 was heard the rumour which usually precedes such an 
 arrival, the King became sufficiently embarrassed to 
 change countenance several times. The Duchesse de 
 Bonrgogne appeared somewhat tremulous, and flut- 
 tered about the room to hide her trouble, pretending 
 not to know exactly by which door the Prince would 
 arrive. Madame de Maintenon was thoughtful. Sud- 
 denly all the doors flew open: the young Prince ad- 
 vanced towards the King, who, master of himself, more 
 than any one ever was, lost at once all embarrassment, 
 took two or three steps towards his grandson, embraced 
 him with some demonstration of tenderness, spoke of 
 his voyage, and then pointing to the Princess, said, 
 with a smiling countenance: " Do you say nothing to 
 her ? " The Prince turned a moment towards her, and
 
 Saint-Simon 199 
 
 answered respectfully, as if he dared not turn away 
 from the King, and did not move. He then saluted 
 Madame de Maintenon, who received him well. Talk 
 of travel, beds, roads, and so forth, lasted, all standing, 
 some half-quarter of an hour; then the King said it 
 would not be fair to deprive him any longer of the 
 pleasure of being alone with Madame la Duchesse de 
 Bourgogne, and that they would have time enough to 
 see each other. The Prince made a bow to the King, 
 another to Madame de Maintenon, passed before the 
 few ladies of the palace who had taken courage to put 
 their heads into the room, entered the neighbouring 
 cabinet, where he embraced the Duchess, saluted the 
 ladies who were there, that is, kissed them, remained a 
 few moments, and then went into his apartment, where 
 he shut himself up with the Duchesse de Bourgogne. 
 
 Their tete-a-tetc lasted two hours and more: just tow- 
 ards the end, Madame d'O was let in; soon after the 
 Marechale d'Estrees entered, and soon after that the 
 Duchesse de Bourgogne came out with them, and 
 returned into the great cabinet of Madame de Main- 
 tenon. Monseigneur came there as usual, on return- 
 ing from the comedy. Madame la Duchesse de Bour- 
 gogne, troubled that the Duke did not hurry himself to 
 come and salute his father, went to fetch him, and came 
 back saying that he was putting on his powder; but 
 observing that Monseigneur was little satisfied with this 
 want of eagerness, sent again to hurry him. Just then 
 the Marechale d'Estrees, hair-brained and light, and 
 free to say just what came into her head, began to at- 
 tack Monseigneur for waiting so tranquilly for his son, 
 instead of going himself to embrace him. This ran-
 
 2oo Memoirs of 
 
 dom expression did not succeed. Monseigneur replied 
 stiffly that it was not for him to seek the Due de Bour- 
 gogne; but the duty of the Due de Bourgogne to seek 
 him. He came at last. The reception was pretty good, 
 but did not by any means equal that of the King. Al- 
 most immediately the King rang, and everybody went 
 to the supper-room. 
 
 During the supper, M. le Due de Berry arrived, and 
 came to salute the King at table. To greet him all 
 hearts opened. The King embraced him very ten- 
 derly. Monseigneur only looked at him tenderly, 
 not daring to embrace his (youngest) son in pres- 
 ence of the King. All present courted him. He 
 remained standing near the King all the rest of the 
 supper, and there was no talk save of post-horses, of 
 roads, and such like trifles. The King spoke sufficient- 
 ly at table to Monseigneur le Due de Bourgogne; but 
 to the Due de Berry, he assumed a very different air. 
 Afterwards, there was a supper for the Due de Berry 
 in the apartments of the Duchesse de Bourgogne; but 
 the conjugal impatience of the Due de Bourgogne cut 
 it rather too short. 
 
 I expressed to the Due de Beauvilliers, with my ac- 
 customed freedom, that the Due de Bourgogne seemed 
 to me very gay on returning from so sad a campaign. 
 He could not deny this, and made up his mind to give 
 a hint on the subject. Everybody indeed blamed so 
 misplaced a gaiety. Two or three days after his ar- 
 rival the Due de Bourgogne passed three hours with 
 the King in the apartments of Madame de Maintenon. 
 I was afraid that his piety would withhold him from 
 letting out on the subject of M. de Vendome, but I
 
 Saint-Simon 201 
 
 heard that he spoke on that subject without restraint, 
 impelled by the advice of the Duchesse de Bourgogne, 
 and also by the Due de Beauvilliers, who set his con- 
 science at ease. His account of the campaign, of af- 
 fairs, of things, of advices, of proceedings, was com- 
 plete. Another, perhaps, less virtuous, might have 
 used weightier terms; but at any rate everything was 
 said with a completeness beyond all hope, if we con- 
 sider who spoke and who listened. The Duke conclud- 
 ed with an eager prayer to be given an army in the next 
 campaign, and with the promise of the King to that 
 effect. Soon after an explanation took place with Mon- 
 seigneur at Meudon, Mademoiselle Choin being pres- 
 ent. \Yith the latter he spoke much more in private: 
 she had taken his part with Monseigneur. The Du- 
 chesse de Bourgogne had gained her over. The con- 
 nection of this girl with Madame de Maintenon was be- 
 ginning to grow very close indeed. 
 
 (jamaches had been to the army with the Due de 
 Bourgogne, and being a free-tongued man had often 
 spoken out very sharply on the puerilities in which he 
 indulged in company with the Due de Berry, influenced 
 by his example. One day returning from mass, in com- 
 pany with the Duke on a critical day, when he would 
 rather have seen him on horseback, he said aloud, 
 " You will certainly win the kingdom of heaven; but 
 as for the kingdom of the earth, Prince Eugene and 
 Marlborough know how to seek it better than you." 
 \Yhat he said quite as publicly to the two Princes on 
 their treatment of the King of England, was admirable. 
 That Prince (known as the Chevalier de Saint George) 
 served incognito, with a modesty that the Princes took
 
 2O2 Memoirs of 
 
 advantage of to treat him with the greatest indifference 
 and contempt. Towards the end of the campaign, Ga- 
 maches, exasperated with their conduct, exclaimed to 
 them in the presence of everybody: " Is this a wager? 
 speak frankly; if so, you have won, there can be no 
 doubt of that; but now, speak a little to the Chevalier 
 de Saint George, and treat him more politely." These 
 sallies, however, were too public to produce any good 
 effect. They were suffered, but not attended to. 
 
 The citadel of Lille capitulated as we have seen, with 
 the consent of the King, who was obliged to acknowl- 
 edge that the Marechal de Boufllers had done all he 
 could, and that further defence was impossible. Prince 
 Eugene treated Boufflers with the greatest possible con- 
 sideration. The enemy at this time made no secret of 
 their intention to invest Ghent, which made the dis- 
 persal of our army the more shameful; but necessity 
 commanded, for no more provisions were to be got. 
 
 M. de Yendome arrived at Versailles on the morning 
 of December 15th, and saluted the King as he left table. 
 The King embraced him with a sort of enthusiasm that 
 made his cabal triumph. He monopolised all conver- 
 sation during the dinner, but only trifles were talked of. 
 The King said he would talk to him next day at Ma- 
 dame de Maintenon's. This delay, which was new to 
 him, did not seem of good augury. He went to pay 
 his respects to M. de Bourgogne, who received him 
 well in spite of all that had passed. Then Vendome 
 went to wait on Alonseigneur at the Princesse de 
 Conti's: here he thought himself in his stronghold. He 
 was received excellently, and the conversation turned 
 on nothings. He wished to take advantage of this, and
 
 Saint-Simon 203 
 
 proposed a visit to Anet. His surprise and that of those 
 present were great at the uncertain reply of Mon- 
 seigneur, who caused it to be understood, and rather 
 stiffly too, that he would not go. Vendome appeared 
 embarrassed, and abridged his visit. I met him at the 
 end of the gallery of the new wing, as I was coming 
 from M. de Beauvilliers, turning towards the steps in 
 the middle of the gallery. He was alone, without 
 torches or valets, with Alberoni, followed by a man I 
 did not know. I saw him by the light of my torches; 
 we saluted each other politely, though we had not much 
 acquaintance one with the other. He seemed cha- 
 grined, and was going to M. du Maine, his counsel and 
 principal support. 
 
 Next day he passed an hour with the King at Ma- 
 dame de Maintenon's. He remained eight or ten days 
 at Versailles or at Meudon, and never went to the Du- 
 chesse de Bourgogne's. This was nothing new for him. 
 The mixture of grandeur and irregularity which he had 
 long affected seemed to him to have freed him from 
 the most indispensable duties. His Abbe Alberoni 
 showed himself at the King's mass in the character of 
 a courtier with unparalleled effrontery. At last they 
 went to Anet. Even before he went he perceived some 
 diminution in his position, since he lowered himself so 
 far as to invite people to come and see him, he, who 
 in former years made it a favour to receive the most 
 distinguished persons. He soon perceived the falling- 
 off in the number of his visitors. Some excused them- 
 selves from going; others promised to go and did not. 
 Every one made a difficulty about a journey of fifteen 
 leagues, which, the year before, was considered as easy
 
 2O4 Memoirs of 
 
 and as necessary as that of Marly. Vendome remained 
 at Anet until the first voyage to Marly, when he came; 
 and he always came to Marly and Meuclon, never to 
 Versailles, until the change of which I shall soon have 
 occasion to speak. 
 
 The Marechal cle Boufflers returned to Court from 
 his firm but unsuccessful defence of Lille, and was re- 
 ceived in a triumphant manner, and overwhelmed with 
 honours and rewards. This contrast with Vendome 
 was remarkable: the one raised by force of trickery, 
 heaping up mountains like the giants, leaning on vice, 
 lies, audacity, on a cabal inimical to the state and its 
 heirs,* a factitious hero, made such by will in despite 
 of truth; the other, without cabal, with no support 
 but virtue and modesty, was inundated with favours, 
 and the applause of enemies was followed by the ac- 
 clamations of the public, so that the nature of even 
 courtiers changed, and they were happy in the recom- 
 penses showered upon him ! 
 
 Some days after the return of the Due de Bourgogne 
 Cheverny had an interview with him, on leaving which 
 he told me what I cannot refrain from relating here, 
 though it is necessarily with confusion that I write it. 
 He said that, speaking freely with him on what had been 
 circulated during the campaign, the Prince observed 
 that he knew how and with what vivacity I had ex- 
 pressed myself, and that he was informed of the man- 
 ner in which the Prince de Conti had given his opinion, 
 and added that with the approval of two such men, 
 that of others might be dispensed with. Cheverny, a 
 
 'Observe the curious identification of the State and the King: 
 VEtal ct scs hcriticrs. This illustrates the probably apocryphal saying 
 " L'Etat c'cst Mo\,"
 
 Saint-Simon 205 
 
 very truthful man, came full of this to tell it to me at 
 once. I was filled with confusion at being placed be- 
 side a man as superior to me in knowledge of war as 
 he was in rank and birth; but I felt with gratitude how 
 well M. de Beauvilliers had kept his word and spoken 
 in my favour. 
 
 The last evening of this year (1708) w<as very remark- 
 able, because there had not yet been an example of 
 any such thing. The King having retired after supper 
 to his cabinet with his family, as usual, Chamillart came 
 without being sent for. He whispered in the King's 
 ear that he had a long despatch from the Marechal de 
 Boufflers. Immediately the King said good-night to 
 Monseigneur and the Princesses, who went out with 
 every one else; and the King actually worked for an 
 hour with his minister before going to bed, so excited 
 was he by the great project for retaking Lille! 
 
 Since the fall of Lille, in fact, Chamillart, impressed 
 with the importance of the place being in our posses- 
 sion, had laid out a plan by which we were to lay siege 
 to it and recapture it. One part of his plan was, that 
 the King should conduct the siege in person. Another 
 was, that, as money was so difficult to obtain, the ladies 
 of the Court should not accompany the King, as their 
 presence caused a large increase of expense for car- 
 riages, servants, and so on. He confided his project 
 to the King, under a strict promise that it should be 
 kept secret from Madame de Maintenon. He feared, 
 and with reason, that if she heard of it she would ob- 
 ject to being separated from the King for such a long 
 time as would be necessary for the siege. Chamillart 
 was warned that if he acted thus, hiding his plan from
 
 206 Memoirs of 
 
 Madame de Maintenon, to whom he owed everything, 
 she would assuredly ruin him, but he paid no attention 
 to the warning. He felt all the danger he ran, but 
 he \vas courageous; he loved the State, and, if I may 
 say so, he loved the King as a mistress. He followed 
 his own counsels then, and made the King acquainted 
 with his project. 
 
 The King was at once delighted with it. He entered 
 into the details submitted to him by Chamillart with 
 the liveliest interest, and promised to carry out all that 
 was proposed. He sent for Boufflers, who had returned 
 from Lille, and having, as I have said, recompensed 
 him for his brave defence of that place with a peerage 
 and other marks of favour, despatched him privately 
 into Flanders to make preparations for the siege. The 
 abandonment of Ghent by our troops, after a short and 
 miserable defence, made him more than ever anxious 
 to carry out this scheme. 
 
 But the King had been so unused to keep a secret 
 from Madame de Maintenon, that he felt himself con- 
 strained in attempting to do so now. He confided to 
 her, therefore, the admirable plan of Chamillart. She 
 had the address to hide her surprise, and the strength 
 to dissimulate perfectly her vexation; she praised the 
 project; she appeared charmed with it; she entered into 
 the details; she spoke of them to Chamillart; admired 
 his zeal, his labour, his diligence, and, above all, his 
 ability, in having conceived and rendered possible so 
 fine and grand a project. 
 
 From that moment, however, she forgot nothing in 
 order to ensure its failure. The first sight of it had 
 made her tremble. To be separated from the King dur-
 
 Saint-Simon 207 
 
 ing a long siege; to abandon him to a minister to whom 
 he would be grateful for all the success of that siege; 
 a minister, too, who, although her creature, had dared 
 to submit this project to the King without informing 
 her; who, moreover, had recently offended her by 
 marrying his son into a family she considered inimical 
 to her, and by supporting M. de Vendome against ^Ion- 
 seigneur de Bourgogne! These were considerations 
 that determined her to bring about the failure of Cha- 
 millart's project and the disgrace of Chamillart himself. 
 She employed her art so well, that after a time the 
 project upon Lille did not appear so easy to the King 
 as at first. Soon after, it seemed difficult; then too 
 hazardous and ruinous; so that at last it was abandoned, 
 and Boufrlers had orders to cease his preparations and 
 return to France! She succeeded thus in an affair she 
 considered the most important she had undertaken dur- 
 ing all her life. Chamillart was much touched, but lit- 
 tle surprised. As soon as he knew his secret had been 
 confided to Madame de Maintenon he had feeble hope 
 for it. Now he began to fear for himself.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Tremendous Cold in France Winters of 1708-1709 Finan- 
 ciers and the Famine Interference of the Parliaments of 
 Paris and Dijon Dreadful Oppression Misery of the Peo- 
 ple New Taxes Forced Labour General Ruin In- 
 creased Misfortunes Threatened Regicide Procession of 
 Saint Genevieve Offerings of Plate to the King Discontent 
 of the People A Bread Riot, How Appeased. 
 
 ONE of the reasons Madame de Maintenon had 
 brought forward, which much assisted her in 
 opposing the siege of Lille, was the excessive cold of 
 this winter. The winter was, in fact, terrible ; the 
 memory of man could find no parallel to it. The 
 frost came suddenly on Twelfth Xight, and lasted 
 nearly two months, beyond all recollection. In four 
 days the Seine and all the other rivers were frozen, 
 and, what had never been seen before, the sea froze 
 all along the coasts, so as to bear carts, even heavily 
 laden, upon it. Curious observers pretended that this 
 cold surpassed what had ever been felt in Sweden and 
 Denmark. The tribunals were closed a considerable 
 time. The worst thing was, that it completely thawed 
 for seven or eight days, and then froze again as rudely 
 as before. This caused the complete destruction of all 
 kinds of vegetation even fruit-trees, and others of 
 
 208
 
 Saint-Simon 209 
 
 the most hardy kind, were destroyed. The violence 
 of the cold was such, that the strongest elixirs and the 
 most spirituous liquors broke their bottles in cup- 
 boards of rooms with fires in them, and surrounded 
 by chimneys, in several parts of the chateau of Ver- 
 sailles. As I myself was one evening supping with the 
 Due de Yilleroy, in his little bed-room, I saw bottles 
 that had come from a well-heated kitchen, and that had 
 been put on the chimney-piece of this bed-room (which 
 was close to the kitchen), so frozen, that pieces of ice 
 fell into our glasses as we poured out from them. The 
 second frost ruined everything. There were no wal- 
 nut-trees, no olive-trees, no apple-trees, no vines left, 
 none worth speaking of, at least. The other trees died 
 in great numbers ; the gardens perished, and all the 
 grain in the earth. It is impossible to imagine the 
 desolation of this general ruin. Everybody held tight 
 his old grain. The price of bread increased in propor- 
 tion to the despair for the next harvest. The most 
 knowing re-sowed barley where there had been wheat, 
 and were imitated by the majority. They were the 
 most successful, and saved all ; but the police bethought 
 themselves of prohibiting this, and repented too late ! 
 Divers edicts were published respecting grain, re- 
 searches were made and granaries filled ; commis- 
 sioners were appointed to scour the provinces, and 
 all these steps contributed to increase the general 
 dearness and poverty, and that, too, at a time when, 
 as was afterwards proved, there was enough corn in the 
 country to feed all France for two years, without a 
 fresh ear being reaped. 
 
 Many people believed that the finance gentlemen 
 VOL. II. 14
 
 2io Memoirs of 
 
 had clutched at this occasion to seize upon all the corn 
 in the kingdom, by emissaries they sent about, in order 
 to sell it at whatever price they wished for the profit 
 of the King, not forgetting their own. The fact that a 
 large quantity of corn that the King had bought, and 
 that had spoiled upon the Loire, was thrown into the 
 water in consequence, did not shake this opinion, as 
 the accident could not be hidden. It is certain that 
 the price of corn was equal in all the markets of the 
 realm ; that at Paris, commissioners fixed the price by 
 force, and often obliged the vendors to raise it in 
 spite of themselves ; that when people cried out, " How 
 long will this scarcity last?" some commissioners in 
 a market, close to my house, near Saint Germain-des- 
 Pres, replied openly, " As long as you please," moved 
 by compassion and indignation, meaning thereby, as 
 long as the people chose to submit to the regulation, 
 according to which no corn entered Paris, except on 
 an order of D'Argenson. D'Argenson was the lieu- 
 tenant of police. The bakers were treated with the 
 utmost rigour in order to keep up the price of bread 
 all over France. In the provinces, officers called in- 
 tendants did what D'Argenson did at Paris. On all 
 the markets, the corn that was not sold at the hour 
 fixed for closing was forcibly carried off ; those who, 
 from pity, sold their corn lower than the fixed rate 
 were punished with cruelty ! 
 
 Alarechal, the King's surgeon, had the courage and 
 the probity to tell all these things to the King, and to 
 state the sinister opinions it gave rise to among all 
 classes, even the most enlightened. The King ap- 
 peared touched, was not offended with Marechal, but 
 did nothing.
 
 Saint-Simon 211 
 
 In several places large stores of corn were collected 
 by the government authorities, but with the greatest 
 possible secrecy. Private people were expressly for- 
 bidden to do this, and informers were encouraged to 
 betray them. A poor fellow, having bethought him- 
 self of informing against one of the stores alluded to 
 above, was severely punished for his pains. The Par- 
 liament assembled to debate upon these disorders. It 
 came to the resolution of submitting various proposals 
 to the King, which it deemed likely to improve the con- 
 dition of the country, and offered to send its Conseillers 
 to examine into the conduct of the monopolists. As 
 soon as the King heard of this, he flew into a strange 
 passion, and his first intention was to send a harsh 
 message to the Parliament to attend to law trials, and 
 not to mix with matters that did not concern it. The 
 chancellor did not dare to represent to the King that 
 what the Parliament wished to do belonged to its prov- 
 ince, but calmed him by representing the respect and 
 affection with which the Parliament regarded him, and 
 that he was master either to accept or refuse its offers. 
 Xo reprimand was given, therefore, to the Parliament, 
 but it was informed that the King prohibited it from 
 meddling with the corn question. However accus- 
 tomed the Parliament, as well as all the other public 
 bodies, might be to humiliations, it was exceedingly 
 vexed by this treatment, and obeyed with the greatest 
 grief. The public was, nevertheless, much affected by 
 the conduct of the Parliament, and felt that if the 
 Finance Ministry had been innocent in the matter, the 
 King would have been pleased with what had taken 
 place, which was in no respect an attack on the abso-
 
 212 Memoirs of 
 
 lute and unbounded authority of which he was so vilely 
 jealous. 
 
 In the country a somewhat similar incident occurred. 
 The Parliament of Burgundy, seeing the province in 
 the direst necessity, wrote to the Intendant, who did 
 not bestir himself the least in the world. In this press- 
 ing danger of a murderous famine, the members as- 
 sembled to debate upon the course to adopt. Nothing 
 was said or done more than was necessary, and all with 
 infinite discretion, yet the King was no sooner in- 
 formed of it than he grew extremely irritated. He 
 sent a severe reprimand to this Parliament ; prohibited 
 it from meddling again in the matter ; and ordered the 
 President, who had conducted the assembly, to come 
 at once to Court to explain his conduct. He came, 
 and but for the intervention of M. le Due would have 
 been deprived of his post, irreproachable as his con- 
 duct had been. He received a sharp scolding from the 
 King, and was then allowed to depart. At the end 
 of a few weeks he returned to Dijon, where it had been 
 resolved to receive him in triumph ; but, like a wise and 
 experienced man, he shunned these attentions, ar- 
 ranging so that he arrived at Dijon at four o'clock in 
 the morning. The other Parliaments, with these ex- 
 amples before them, were afraid to act, and allowed 
 the Intendants and their emissaries to have it all their 
 own way. It was at this time that those commission- 
 ers were appointed, to whom I have already alluded, 
 who acted under the authority of the Intendants, and 
 without dependence of any kind upon the Parliaments. 
 True, a court of appeal against their decisions was 
 established, but it was a mere mockery. The mem-
 
 Saint-Simon 213 
 
 bers who composed it did not set out to fulfil their 
 duties until three months after having been appointed. 
 Then, matters had been so arranged that they received 
 no appeals, and found no cases to judge. All this dark 
 work remained, therefore, in the hands of D'Argenson 
 and the Intendants, and it continued to be done with 
 the same harshness as ever. 
 
 Without passing a more definite judgment on those 
 who invented and profited by this scheme, it may be 
 said that there has scarcely been a century which has 
 produced one more mysterious, more daring, better 
 arranged, and resulting in an oppression so enduring, 
 so sure, so cruel. The sums it produced were innu- 
 merable ; and innumerable were the people who died 
 literally of hunger, and those who perished afterwards 
 of the maladies caused by the extremity of misery ; in- 
 numerable also were the families who were ruined, 
 whose ruin brought down a torrent of other ills. 
 
 Despite all this, payments hitherto most strictly 
 made began to cense. Those of the customs, those 
 of the divers loans, the dividends upon the Hotel de 
 \ ille in all times so sacred all were suspended ; these 
 last alone continued, but with delays, then with re- 
 trenchments, which desolated nearly all the families of 
 Paris and many others. At the same time the taxes 
 increased, multiplied, and exacted with the most ex- 
 treme rigour completed the devastation of France. 
 Everything rose incredibly in price, while nothing was 
 left to buy with, even at the cheapest rate ; and although 
 the majority of the cattle had perished for want of food, 
 and by the misery of those who kept them, a new mo- 
 nopoly was established upon horned beasts. A great
 
 214 Memoirs of 
 
 number of people who, in preceding years, used to re- 
 lieve the poor, found themselves so reduced as to be 
 able to subsist only with great difficulty, and many of 
 them received alms in secret. It is impossible to say 
 how many others laid siege to the hospitals, until then 
 the shame and punishment of the poor ; how many 
 ruined hospitals revomited forth their inmates to the 
 public charge that is to say, sent them away to die 
 actually of hunger ; and how many decent families shut 
 themselves up in garrets to die of want. 
 
 It is impossible to say, moreover, how all this misery 
 warmed up zeal and charity, or how immense were the 
 alms distributed. But want increasing each instant, an 
 indiscreet and tyrannical charity imagined new taxes 
 for the benefit of the poor. They were imposed, and, 
 added to so many others, vexed numbers of people, 
 who were annoyed at being compelled to pay, who 
 would have preferred giving voluntarily. Thus, these 
 new taxes, instead of helping the poor, really took 
 away assistance from them, and left them worse off 
 than before. The strangest thing of all is, that these 
 taxes in favour of the poor were perpetuated and ap- 
 propriated by the King, and are received by the finan- 
 ciers on his account to this day as a branch of the 
 revenue, the name of them not having even been 
 changed. The same thing has happened with respect 
 to the annual tax for keeping up the highways and 
 thoroughfares of the kingdom. The majority of the 
 bridges were broken, and the high roads had become 
 impracticable. Trade, which suffered by this, awak- 
 ened attention. The Intendant of Champagne de- 
 termined to mend the roads by parties of men, whom
 
 Saint-Simon 215 
 
 he compelled to work for nothing, not even giving 
 them bread. He was imitated everywhere, and was 
 made Counsellor of State. The people died of hunger 
 and misery at this work, while those who overlooked 
 them made fortunes. In the end the thing was found 
 to be impracticable, and was abandoned, and so were 
 the roads. But the impost for making them and keep- 
 ing them up did not in the least stop during this experi- 
 ment or since, nor has it ceased to be appropriated as a 
 branch of the King's revenue. 
 
 But to return to the year 1709. People never ceased 
 wondering what had become of all the money of the 
 realm. Nobody could any longer pay, because no- 
 body was paid : the country-people, overwhelmed with 
 exactions and with valueless property, had become in- 
 solvent : trade no longer yielded anything good faith 
 and confidence were at an end. Thus the King had no 
 resources, except in terror and in his unlimited power, 
 which, boundless as it was, failed also for want of hav- 
 ing something to take and to exercise itself upon. 
 There was no more circulation, no means of re-estab- 
 lishing it. All was perishing step by step ; the realm 
 was entirely exhausted ; the troops, even, were not 
 paid, although no one could imagine what was done 
 with the millions that came into the King's coffers. 
 The unfed soldiers, disheartened too at being so badly 
 commanded, were always unsuccessful ; there was no 
 capacity in generals or ministers ; no appointment ex- 
 cept by whim or intrigue ; nothing was punished, noth- 
 ing examined, nothing weighed: there was equal 
 impotence to sustain the war and bring about peace : 
 all suffered, yet none dared to put the hand to this arch, 
 tottering as it was and ready to fall.
 
 216 Memoirs of 
 
 This was the frightful state to which we were re- 
 duced, when envoys were sent into Holland to try and 
 bring about peace. The picture is exact, faithful, and 
 not overcharged. It was necessary to present it as 
 it was, in order to explain the extremity to which we 
 were reduced, the enormity of the concessions which 
 the King made to obtain peace, and the visible miracle 
 of Him who sets bounds to the seas, by which France 
 was allowed to escape from the hands of Europe, re- 
 solved and ready to destroy her. 
 
 Meanwhile the money was re-coined ; and its in- 
 crease to a third more than its intrinsic value, brought 
 some profit to the King, but ruin to private people, 
 and a disorder to trade which completed its annihila- 
 tion. 
 
 Samuel Bernard, the banker, overthrew all Lyons 
 by his prodigious bankruptcy, which caused the most 
 terrible results. Desmarets assisted him as much as 
 possible. The discredit into which paper money had 
 fallen, was the cause of his failure. He had issued 
 notes to the amount of twenty millions, and owed 
 almost as much at Lyons. Fourteen millions were 
 given to him in assignations, in order to draw him out 
 of his difficulties. It is pretended that he found means 
 to gain much by his bankruptcy, but this seems doubt- 
 ful. 
 
 The winter at length passed away. In the spring 
 so many disorders took place in the market of Paris, 
 that more guards than usual were kept in the city. At 
 Saint Rock there was a disturbance, on account of a 
 poor fellow who had fallen, and been trampled under 
 foot ; and the crowd, which was very large, was very
 
 Saint-Simon 217 
 
 insolent to D'Argenson, Lieutenant of Police, who had 
 hastened there. M. de la Rochefoucauld, who had 
 retired from the court to Chenil, on account of his loss 
 of sight, received an atrocious letter against the King, 
 in which it was plainly intimated that there were still 
 Ravaillacs left in the world ; and to this madness was 
 added an eulogy of Brutus.* M. de la Rochefoucauld 
 at once went in all haste to the King with this letter. 
 His sudden appearance showed that something im- 
 portant had occurred, and the object of his visit, of 
 course, soon became known. He was very ill re- 
 ceived for coming so publicly on such an errand. The 
 Dues de Beauvilliers and de Bouillon, it seems, had 
 received similar letters, but had given them to the 
 King privately. The King for some days was much 
 troubled, but after due reflection, he came to the con- 
 clusion that people who menace and warn have less 
 intention of committing a crime than of causing alarm. 
 
 What annoyed the King more was, the inundation 
 of placards, the most daring and the most unmeasured, 
 against his person, his conduct, and his government 
 placards, which for a long time were found pasted 
 upon the gates of Paris, the churches, the public places, 
 above all upon the statues ; which during the night 
 were insulted in various fashions, the marks being seen 
 the next morning, and the inscriptions erased. There 
 were also, multitudes of verses and songs, in which 
 nothing was spared. 
 
 We were in this state until the i6th of Mav. The 
 
 * The mind recoils with horror from the wretch to whom such an idea 
 could have presented itself amidst the blessings which the absolute 
 authority of Louis XIV. was showering upon the country.
 
 2i8 Memoirs of 
 
 procession of Saint Genevieve took place. This pro- 
 cession never takes place except in times of the direst 
 necessity ; and then, only in virtue of orders from the 
 King, the Parliament, or the Archbishop of Paris. On 
 the one hand, it was hoped that it would bring succour 
 to the country ; on the other, that it would amuse the 
 people. 
 
 It was shortly after this, when the news of the arro- 
 gant demands of the allies, and the vain attempts of the 
 King to obtain an honourable peace became known, 
 that the Duchesse de Grammont conceived the idea 
 of offering her plate to the King, to replenish his im- 
 poverished exchequer, and to afford him means to 
 carry on the war. She hoped that her example would 
 be followed by all the Court, and that she alone would 
 have the merit and the profit of suggesting the idea. 
 Unfortunately for this hope, the Duke, her husband, 
 spoke of the project to Marechal Bouffkrs, who 
 thought it so good, that he noised it abroad, and made 
 such a stir, exhorting everybody to adopt it, that he 
 passed for the inventor, and no mention was made of 
 the Duke or the old Duchesse de Grammont, the latter 
 of whom was much enraged at this. 
 
 The project made a great hubbub at the Court. No- 
 body dared to refuse to offer his plate, yet each offered 
 it with much regret. Some had been keeping it as a 
 last resource, which they were very sorry to deprive 
 themselves of; others feared the dirtiness of copper 
 and earthenware ; others again were annoyed at being 1 
 obliged to imitate an ungrateful fashion, all the merit 
 of which would go to the inventor. It was in vain that 
 Pontchartrain objected to the project, as one from
 
 Saint-Simon 219 
 
 which only trifling benefit could be derived, and which 
 would do great injury to France by acting as a procla- 
 mation of its embarrassed state to all the world, at home 
 and abroad. The King would not listen to his reason- 
 ings, but declared himself willing to receive all the 
 plate that was sent to him as a free-will offering. He 
 announced this ; and two means were indicated at the 
 same time, which all good citizens might follow. One 
 was, to send their plate to the King's goldsmith ; the 
 other, to send it to the Mint. Those who made an 
 unconditional gift of their plate, sent it to the former, 
 who kept a register of the names and of the number 
 of marks he received. The King regularly looked 
 over this list, at least at first, and promised in general 
 terms to restore to everybody the weight of metal they 
 gave when his affairs permitted a promise nobody be- 
 lieved in or hoped to see executed. Those who wished 
 to be paid for their plate sent it to the Mint. It was 
 weighed on arrival ; the names were written, the marks 
 and the date ; payment was made according as money 
 could be found. Many people were not sorry thus to 
 sell their plate without shame. But the loss and the 
 damage were inestimable in admirable ornaments of 
 all kinds, with which much of the plate of the rich was 
 embellished. When an account came to be drawn up, 
 it was found that not a hundred people were upon the 
 list of Launay, the goldsmith ; and the total product of 
 the gift did not amount to three millions. I confess 
 that I was very late in sending my plate. When I 
 found that I was almost the only one of my rank using 
 silver, I sent plate to the value of a thousand pistoles 
 to the Mint, and locked up the rest. All the great
 
 22O Memoirs of 
 
 people turned to earthenware, exhausted the shops 
 where it was sold, and set the trade in it on fire, while 
 common folks continued to use their silver. Even the 
 King thought of using earthenware, having sent his 
 gold vessels to the Mint, but afterwards decided upon 
 plated metal and silver ; the Princes and Princesses of 
 the blood used crockery. 
 
 Ere three months were over his head the King felt 
 all the shame and the weakness of having consented 
 to this surrendering of plate, and avowed that he re- 
 pented of it. The inundations of the Loire, which 
 happened at the same time., and caused the utmost 
 disorder, did not restore the Court or the public to 
 good humour. The losses they caused, and the dam- 
 age they did, were very considerable, and ruined many 
 private people, and desolated home trade. 
 
 Summer came. The dearness of all things, and of 
 bread in particular, continued to cause frequent com- 
 motions all over the realm. Although, as I have said, 
 the guards of Paris were much increased, above all in 
 the markets and the suspected places, they were un- 
 able to hinder disturbances from breaking out. In 
 many of these D'Argenson nearly lost his life. 
 
 Monseigneur arriving and returning from the Opera, 
 was assailed by the populace and by women in great 
 numbers crying, " Bread ! Bread ! " so that he was 
 afraid, even in the midst of his guards, who did not 
 dare to disperse the crowd for fear of worse happen- 
 ing. He got away by throwing money to the people, 
 and promising wonders ; but as the wonders did not 
 follow, he no longer dared to go to Paris. 
 
 The King himself from his windows heard the
 
 Saint-Simon 221 
 
 people of Versailles crying aloud in the street. The 
 discourses they held were daring and continual in the 
 streets and public places ; they uttered complaints, 
 sharp, and but little measured, against the govern- 
 ment, and even against the King's person ; and even 
 exhorted each other no longer to be so enduring, 
 saying that nothing worse could happen to them than 
 what they suffered, dying as they were of starvation. 
 
 To amuse the people, the idle and the poor were 
 employed to level a rather large hillock which re- 
 mained upon the Boulevard, between the Fortes Saint 
 Denis and Saint Martin ; and for all salary, bad bread 
 in small quantities was distributed to these workers. It 
 happened that on Tuesday morning, the 2Oth of Au- 
 gust, there was no bread for a large number of these 
 people. A woman amongst others cried out at this, 
 which excited the rest to do likewise. The archers 
 appointed to watch over these labourers, threatened 
 the woman ; she only cried the louder ; thereupon the 
 archers seized her and indiscreetly put her in an ad- 
 joining pillory. In a moment all her companions ran 
 to her aid, pulled down the pillory, and scoured the 
 streets, pillaging the bakers and pastrycooks. One 
 by one the shops closed. The disorder increased and 
 spread through the neighbouring streets ; no harm 
 was done anybody, but the cry was " Bread ! Bread ! " 
 and bread was seized everywhere. 
 
 It so fell out that Marechal Boufflers, who little 
 thought what was happening, was in the neighbour- 
 hood, calling upon his notary. Surprised at the fright 
 he saw everywhere, and learning the cause, he wished 
 of himself to appease it. Accompanied by the Due de
 
 222 Memoirs of 
 
 Grammont, he directed himself towards the scene of 
 the disturbance, although advised not to do so. When 
 he arrived at the top of the Rue Saint Denis, the crowd 
 and the tumult made him judge that it would be best 
 to alight from his coach. He advanced, therefore, on 
 foot with the Due de Grammont among the furious and 
 infinite crowd of people, of whom he asked the cause 
 of this uproar, promised them bread, spoke his best 
 with gentleness but firmness, and remonstrated with 
 them. He was listened to. Cries, several times re- 
 peated, of " Vive M. le Marechal de Boufflers," burst 
 from the crowd. M. de Boufflers walked thus with 
 M. de Grammont all along the Rue aux Ours and the 
 neighbouring streets, into the very centre of the sedi- 
 tion, in fact. The people begged him to represent 
 their misery to the King, and to obtain for them some 
 food. He promised this, and upon his word being 
 given all were appeased and all dispersed with thanks 
 and fresh acclamations of " Vive M. le Marechal de 
 Boufflers ! " He did a real service that day. D'Ar- 
 genson had marched to the spot with troops ; and had 
 it not been for the Marechal, blood would have been 
 spilt, and things might have gone very far. 
 
 The Marechal had scarcely reached his own house 
 in the Place Royale than he was informed that the 
 sedition had broken out with even greater force in the 
 Faubourg Saint Antoine. He ran there immediately, 
 with the Due de Grammont, and appeased it as he had 
 appeased the other. He returned to his own home to 
 eat a mouthful or two, and then set out for Versailles. 
 Scarcely had he left the Place Royale than the people 
 in the streets and the shopkeepers cried to him to have
 
 Saint-Simon 223 
 
 pity on them, and to get them some bread, always with 
 " Vive M. le Marechal de Boufflers ! " He was con- 
 ducted thus as far as the quay of the Louvre. 
 
 On arriving at Versailles he went straight to the 
 King, told him what had occurred, and was much 
 thanked. He was even offered by the King the com- 
 mand of Paris, troops, citizens, police, and all ; but 
 this he declined, Paris, as he said, having already a 
 governor and proper officers to conduct its affairs. 
 He afterwards, however, willingly lent his aid to them 
 in office, and the modesty with which he acted brought 
 him new glory. 
 
 Immediately after, the supply of bread was carefully 
 looked to. Paris was filled with patrols, perhaps with 
 too many, but they succeeded so well that no fresh 
 disturbances took place.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 M. de Vendome Out of Favour Death and Character of the 
 Prince de Conti Fall of Vendome Puysegur's Interview 
 with the King Madame dc Bourgogne against Vendome 
 Her Decided Conduct Vendome Excluded from Marly 
 He Clings to Meudon From Which He is also Expelled 
 His Final Disgrace and Abandonment Triumph of 
 Madame de Maintenon. 
 
 AFTER his return from the campaign, M. de Yen- 
 dome continued to be paid like a general serv- 
 ing in winter, and to enjoy many other advantages. 
 From all this, people inferred that he would serve dur- 
 ing the following campaign ; nobody dared to doubt 
 as much, and the cabal derived new strength therefrom. 
 But their little triumph was not of long continuance. 
 M. de Vendome came to Versailles for the ceremony 
 of the Order on Candlemas-Day. He then learned 
 that he was not to serve, and that he was no longer 
 to receive general's pay. The blow was violent, and 
 he felt it to its fullest extent ; but, with a prudence 
 that equalled his former imprudence, he swallowed the 
 pill without making a face, because he feared other 
 more bitter ones, which he felt he had deserved. This 
 it was that, for the first time in his life, made him mod- 
 erate. He did not affect to conceal what had taken 
 
 224
 
 Saint-Simon 225 
 
 place, but did not say whether it was in consequence 
 of any request of his, or whether he was glad or sorry, 
 giving it out as an indifferent piece of news ; and 
 changed nothing but his language, the audacity of 
 which he diminished as no longer suited to the times. 
 He sold his equipages. 
 
 M. le Prince de Conti died February 22, aged not 
 quite forty-five. His face had been charming ; even 
 the defects of his body and mind had infinite graces. 
 His shoulders were too high ; his head was a little on 
 one side ; his laugh would have seemed a bray in any 
 one else ; his mind was strangely absent. He was gal- 
 lant with the women, in love with many, well treated by 
 several ; he was even coquettish with men. He en- 
 deavoured to please the cobbler, the lackey, the por- 
 ter, as well as the Minister of State, the Grand Seig- 
 neur, the General, all so naturally that success was 
 certain. He w-as consequently the constant delight of 
 every one, of the Court, the armies ; the divinity of 
 the people, the idol of the soldiers, the hero of the 
 officers, the hope of whatever was most distinguished, 
 the love of the Parliament, the friend of the learned, 
 and often the admiration of the historian, of juriscon- 
 sults, of astronomers, and mathematicians, the most 
 profound. He was especially learned in genealogies, 
 and knew their chimeras and their realities. With 
 him the useful and the polite, the agreeable and the 
 deep, all was distinct and in its place. He had friends, 
 knew how to choose them, cultivate them, visit them, 
 live with them, put himself on their level without 
 haughtiness or baseness. But this man, so amiable, 
 
 so charming, so delicious, loved nothing. He had and 
 VOL. II. 15
 
 226 Memoirs of 
 
 desired friends, as other people have and desire articles 
 of furniture. Although with much self-respect he was 
 a humble courtier, and showed too much how greatly 
 he was in want of support and assistance from all sides ; 
 he was avaricious, greedy of fortune, ardent and un- 
 just. The King could not bear him, and was grieved 
 with the respect he was obliged to show him, and 
 which he was careful never to trespass over by a single 
 jot. Certain intercepted letters had excited a hatred 
 against him in Madame de Maintenon, and an indigna- 
 tion in the King which nothing could efface. The 
 riches, the talents, the agreeable qualities, the great 
 reputation which this Prince had acquired, the general 
 love of all, became crimes in him. The contrast with 
 M. du Maine excited daily irritation and jealousy. The 
 very purity of his blood w-as a reproach to him. Even 
 his friends were odious, and felt that this was so. At 
 last, however, various causes made him to be chosen, 
 in the midst of a very marked disgrace, to command the 
 army in Flanders. He was delighted, and gave him- 
 self up to the most agreeable hopes. But it was no 
 longer time : he had sought to drown his sorrow at 
 wearing out his life unoccupied in wine and other pleas- 
 ures, for which his age and his already enfeebled body 
 were no longer suited. His health gave way. He felt 
 it soon. The tardy return to favour which he had en- 
 joyed made him regret life more. He perished slowly, 
 regretting to have been brought to death's door by 
 disgrace, and the impossibility of being restored by 
 the unexpected opening of a brilliant career. 
 
 The Prince, against the custom of those of his rank, 
 had been very well educated. He was full of instruc-
 
 Saint-Simon 227 
 
 tion. The disorders of his life had clouded his knowl- 
 edge but not extinguished it, and he often read to 
 brush up his learning. He chose M. de la Tour to pre- 
 pare him, and help him to die well. He was so at- 
 tached to life that all his courage was required. For 
 three months crowds of visitors filled his palace, and 
 the people even collected in the place before it. The 
 churches echoed with prayers for his life. The mem- 
 bers of his family often went to pay for masses for him, 
 and found that others had already done so. All ques- 
 tions were about his health. People stopped each 
 other in the street to inquire ; passers-by were called 
 to by shopmen, anxious to know whether the Prince 
 de Conti was to live or to die. Amidst all this, Mon- 
 seigneur never visited him ; and, to the indignation 
 of all Paris, passed along the quay near the Louvre 
 going to the Opera, whilst the sacraments were being 
 carried to the Prince on the other side. He was com- 
 pelled by public opinion to make a short visit after this. 
 The Prince died at last in his arm-chair, surrounded 
 by a few worthy people. Regrets were universal ; but 
 perhaps he gained by his disgrace. His heart was 
 firmer than his head. He might have been timid at 
 the head of an army or in the Council of the King if 
 he had entered it. The King was much relieved by 
 his death ; Madame de Maintenon also ; M. le Due 
 much more ; for M. du Maine it was a deliverance, and 
 for M. de Yendome a consolation. Monseigneur 
 learned it at Meudon as he was going out to hunt, and 
 showed no feeling of any kind. 
 
 The death of M. le Prince de Conti seemed to the 
 Due de Vendome a considerable advantage, because he
 
 228 Memoirs of 
 
 was thus delivered from a rival most embarrassing by 
 the superiority of his birth, just when he was about to 
 be placed in a high military position. I have already 
 mentioned Vendome's exclusion from command. The 
 fall of this Prince of the Proud had then begun : we 
 have now reached the second step, between which and 
 the third there was a space of between two and three 
 months ; but as the third had no connection with any 
 other event, I will relate it at once. 
 
 Whatever reasons existed to induce the King to take 
 from M. de Vendome the command of his armies, I 
 know not, if all the art and credit of Madame de Main- 
 tenon would not have been employed in vain, together 
 with the intrigues of M. clu Maine, without an advent- 
 ure, which I must at once explain, to set before the 
 reader's eyes the issue of the terrible struggle, pushed 
 to such extremes, between Vendome, seconded by his 
 formidable cabal, and the necessary heir of the Crown, 
 supported by his wife, the favourite of the King, and 
 Madame de Maintenon, which last, to speak clearly, 
 as all the Court saw, for thirty years governed him 
 completely. 
 
 When M. de Vendome returned from Flanders, he 
 had a short interview with the King, in which he made 
 many bitter complaints against Puysegur, one of his 
 lieutenant-generals, whose sole offence was that he was 
 much attached to M. de Bourgogne. Puysegur was a 
 great favourite with the King, and often, on account of 
 the business of the infantry regiment, of which the King 
 thought himself the private colonel, had private inter- 
 views with him, and was held in high estimation for his 
 capacity and virtue. He, in his turn, came back from
 
 Saint-Simon 229 
 
 Flanders, and had a private audience of the King. The 
 complaints that had been made against him by M. de 
 Yendome were repeated to him by the King, who, how- 
 ever, did not mention from whom they came. Puyse- 
 gur defended himself so well, that the King in his 
 surprise mentioned this latter fact. At the name of 
 Yendome, Puysegur lost all patience. He described to 
 the King all the faults, the impertinences, the obstinacy, 
 the insolence of M. de Yendome, with a precision and 
 clearness which made his listener very attentive and 
 very fruitful in questions. Puysegur, seeing that he 
 might go on, gave himself rein, unmasked M. de Yen- 
 dome from top to toe, described his ordinary life at 
 the army, the incapacity of his body, the incapacity of 
 his judgment, the prejudices of his mind, the absurdity 
 and crudity of his maxims, his utter ignorance of the 
 art of war, and showed to demonstration, that it was 
 only by a profusion of miracles France had not been 
 ruined by him lost a hundred times over. 
 
 The conversation lasted more than two hours. The 
 King, long since convinced of the capacity, fidelity, and 
 truthfulness of Puysegur, at last opened his eyes to the 
 truth respecting this Yendome, hidden with so much 
 art until then, and regarded as a hero and the tutelary 
 genius of France. He was vexed and ashamed of his 
 credulity, and from the date of this conversation Yen- 
 dome fell at once from his favour. 
 
 Puysegur, naturally humble, gentle, and modest, but 
 truthful, and on this occasion piqued, went out into the 
 gallery after his conversation, and made a general re- 
 port of it to all, virtuously braving Yendome and all his 
 cabal. This cabal trembled with rage; Yendome still
 
 230 Memoirs of 
 
 more so. They answered by miserable reasonings, 
 which nobody cared for. This was what led to the 
 suppression of his pay, and his retirement to Anet, 
 where he affected a philosophical indifference. 
 
 Crestfallen as he was, he continued to sustain at Meu- 
 don and Marly the grand manners he had usurped at 
 the time of his prosperity. After having got over the 
 first embarrassment, he put on again his haughty air, 
 and ruled the roast. To see him at Meudon you would 
 have said he was certainly the master of the saloon, and 
 by his free and easy manner to Monseigneur, and, when 
 he dared, to the King, he would have been thought the 
 principal person there. Monseigneur de Bourgogne 
 supported this his piety made him do so but Ma- 
 dame de Bourgogne was grievously offended, and 
 watched her opportunity to get rid of M. de Vendome 
 altogether. 
 
 It came, the first journey the King made to Marly 
 after Easter. Brclan was then the fashion. Mon- 
 seigneur, playing at it one day with Madame de Bour- 
 gogne and others, and being in want of a fifth player, 
 sent for M. de Vendome from the other end of the 
 saloon, to come and join the party. That instant Ma- 
 dame de Bourgogne said modestly, but very intelli- 
 gibly, to Monseigneur, that the presence of M. de Ven- 
 dome at Marly was sufficiently painful to her, without 
 having him at play with her, and that she begged he 
 might be dispensed with. Monseigneur, who had sent 
 for Vendome without the slightest reflection, looked 
 round the room, and sent for somebody else. When 
 Vendome arrived, his place was taken, and he had to 
 suffer this annoyance before all the company. It may
 
 Saint-Simon 231 
 
 be imagined to what an extent this superb gentleman 
 was stung by the affront. He served no longer; he 
 commanded no longer; he was no longer the adored 
 idol; he found himself in the paternal mansion of the 
 Prince he had so cruelly offended, and the outraged 
 wife of that Prince was more than a match for him. 
 He turned upon his heel, absented himself from the 
 room as soon as he could, and retired to his own cham- 
 ber, there to storm at his leisure. 
 
 Other and more cruel annoyances were yet in store 
 for him however. Madame de Bourgogne reflected 
 on what had just taken place. The facility with which 
 she had succeeded in one respect encouraged her, but 
 she was a little troubled to know how the King would 
 take what she had done, and accordingly, whilst play- 
 ing, she resolved to push matters still further, both to 
 ruin her guest utterly and to get out of her embarrass- 
 ment; for, despite her extreme familiarity, she was eas- 
 ily embarrassed, being gentle and timid. The brchin 
 over, she ran to Madame de Maintenon; told her what 
 had just occurred; said that the presence of M. de Ven- 
 dome at Marly was a continual insult to her; and 
 begged her to solicit the King to forbid M. de Ven- 
 dome to come there. Madame de Maintenon, only too 
 glad to have an opportunity of revenging herself upon 
 an enemy who had set her at defiance, and against whom 
 all her batteries had at one time failed, consented to 
 this request. She spoke out to the King, who, com- 
 pletely weary of M. de Vendome, and troubled to have 
 under his eyes a man whom he could not doubt was 
 discontented, at once granted what was asked. Before 
 going to bed, he charged one of his valets to tell M.
 
 232 Memoirs of 
 
 de Yenclome the next morning, that henceforth he was 
 to absent himself from Marly, his presence there being 
 disagreeable to Madame de Bourgogne. 
 
 It may be imagined into what an excess of despair 
 M. de Vendome fell, at a message so unexpected, and 
 which sapped the foundations of all his hopes. He 
 kept silent, however, for fear of making matters worse, 
 did not venture attempting to speak to the King, and 
 hastily retired to Clichy to hide his rage and shame. 
 The news of his banishment from Marly soon spread 
 abroad, and made so much stir, that to show it was 
 not worth attention, he returned two days before the 
 end of the visit, and stopped until the end in a con- 
 tinual shame and embarrassment. He set out for Anet 
 at the same time that the King set out for Versailles, 
 and has never since put his foot in Marly. 
 
 But another bitter draught was to be mixed for him. 
 Banished from Marly, he had yet the privilege of go- 
 ing to Meudon. He did not fail to avail himself of this 
 every time Monseigneur was there, and stopped as long 
 as he stopped, although in the times of his splendour 
 he had never stayed more than one or two days. It 
 was seldom that Monseigneur visited Meudon without 
 Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne going to see him. 
 And yet M. de Yendome never failed audaciously to 
 present himself before her, as if to make her feel that 
 at all events in Monseigneur's house he was a match 
 for her. Guided by former experience, the Princess 
 gently suffered this in silence, and watched her op- 
 portunity. It soon came. 
 
 Two months afterwards it happened that, while Mon- 
 seigneur was at Meudon, the King, Madame de Main-
 
 Saint-Simon 233 
 
 tenon, and Madame de Bourgogne, came to dine with 
 him. Madame de Maintenon wished to talk with Ma- 
 demoiselle Choin without sending for her to Versailles, 
 and the King, as may be believed, was in the secret. 
 I mention this to account for the King's visit. M. de 
 Yendome, who was at Meudon as usual, was stupid 
 enough to present himself at the coach door as the 
 King and his companions descended. Madame de 
 Bourgogne was much offended, constrained herself less 
 than usual, and turned away her head with affectation, 
 after a sort of sham salute. He felt the sting, but had 
 the folly to approach her again after dinner, while she 
 was playing. He experienced the same treatment, but 
 this time in a still more marked manner. Stung to the 
 quick and out of countenance, he went up to his cham- 
 ber, and did not descend until very late. During this 
 time Madame de Bourgogne spoke to Monseigneur of 
 the conduct of M. de Yendome, and the same evening 
 she addressed herself to Madame de Maintenon, and 
 openly complained to the King. She represented to 
 him how hard it was to her to be treated by Mon- 
 seigneur with less respect than by the King: for while 
 the latter had banished M. de Yendome from Marly, 
 the former continued to grant him an asylum at 
 Meudon. 
 
 M. de Yendome, on his side, complained bitterly to 
 Monseigneur of the strange persecution that he suf- 
 fered everywhere from Madame de Bourgogne; but 
 Monseigneur replied to him so coldly that he withdrew 
 with tears in his eyes, determined, however, not to give 
 up until he had obtained some sort of satisfaction. He 
 set his friends to work to speak to Monseigneur; all
 
 234 Memoirs of 
 
 they could draw from him was, that M. de Vendome 
 must avoid Madame de Bourgogne whenever she came 
 to Meudon, and that it was the smallest respect he owed 
 her until she was reconciled to him. A reply so dry 
 and so precise was cruelly felt; but M. de Vendome was 
 not at the end of the chastisement he had more than 
 merited. The next day put an end to all discussion 
 upon the matter. 
 
 He was card-playing after dinner in a private cabi- 
 net, when D'Antin arrived from Versailles. He ap- 
 proached the players, and asked what was the position 
 of the game, with an eagerness which made M. de Ven- 
 dome inquire the reason. D'Antin said he had to 
 render an account to him of the matter he had entrusted 
 him with. 
 
 "I!" exclaimed Vendome, with surprise, "I have 
 entrusted you with nothing." 
 
 " Pardon me," replied D'Antin; "you do not recol- 
 lect, then, that I have an answer to make to you? " 
 
 From this perseverance M. de Vendome compre- 
 hended that something was amiss, quitted his game, 
 and went into an obscure wardrobe with D'Antin, who 
 told him that he had been ordered by the King to beg 
 Monseigneur not to invite M. de Vendome to Meudon 
 any more; that his presence there was as unpleasant to 
 Madame de Bourgogne as it had been at Marly. Upon 
 this, Vendome, transported with fury, vomited forth all 
 that his rage inspired him with. He spoke to Mon- 
 seigneur in the evening, but was listened to as coldly 
 as before. Vendome passed the rest of his visit in a 
 rage and embarrassment easy to conceive, and on the 
 day Monseigneur returned to Versailles he hurried 
 straight to Anet.
 
 Saint-Simon 235 
 
 But he was unable to remain quiet anywhere; so went 
 off with his dogs, under pretence of going a hunting, 
 to pass a month in his estate of La Ferte-Aleps, where 
 he had no proper lodging and no society, and gave 
 there free vent to his rage. Thence he returned again 
 to Anet, where he remained abandoned by every one. 
 Into this solitude, into this startling and public seclu- 
 sion, incapable of sustaining a fall so complete, after 
 a long habit of attaining everything, and doing every- 
 thing he pleased, of being the idol of the world, of the 
 Court, of the armies, of making his very vices adored, 
 and his greatest faults admired, his defects commended, 
 so that he dared to conceive the prodigious design 
 of ruining and destroying the necessary heir of the 
 Crown, though he had never received anything but evi- 
 dences of tenderness from him, and triumphed over him 
 for eight months with the most scandalous success, 
 it was, I say, thus that this Colossus was overthrown by 
 the breath of a prudent and courageous princess, who 
 earned by this act merited applause. All who were 
 concerned with her, were charmed to see of what she 
 was capable; and all who were opposed to her and her 
 husband trembled. The cabal, so formidable, so lofty, 
 so accredited, so closely united to overthrow them, and 
 reign, after the King, under Monseigneur in their place 
 these chiefs, male and female, so enterprising and 
 audacious, fell now into mortal discouragement and 
 fear. It was a pleasure to see them work their way 
 back with art and extreme humility, and turn round 
 those of the opposite party who remained influential, 
 and whom they had hitherto despised; and especially 
 to see with what embarrassment, what fear, what terror,
 
 236 Saint-Simon 
 
 they began to crawl before the young Princess, and 
 wretchedly court the Due de Bourgogne and his friends, 
 and bend to them in the most extraordinary manner. 
 
 As for M. de Vendome, without any resource, save 
 what he found in his vices and his valets, he did not 
 refrain from bragging among them of the friendship 
 of Monseigneur for him, of which he said he was well 
 assured. Violence had been done to Monseigneur's 
 feelings. He was reduced to this misery of hoping 
 that his words would be spread about by these valets, 
 and would procure him some consideration from those 
 who thought of the future. But the present was insup- 
 portable to him. To escape from it, he thought of 
 serving in Spain, and wrote to Madame des Ursins ask- 
 ing employment. The King was annoyed at this step, 
 and flatly refused to let him go to Spain. His intrigue, 
 therefore, came to an end at once. 
 
 Nobody gained more by the fall of M. de Vendome 
 than Madame de Maintenon. Besides the joy she felt 
 in overthrowing a man who, through M. du Maine, 
 owed everything to her, and yet dared to resist her so 
 long and successfully, she felt, also, that her credit 
 became still more the terror of the Court; for no one 
 doubted that what had occurred was a great example 
 of her power. We shall presently see how she fur- 
 nished another, which startled no less.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Death of Pere La Chaise His Infirmities in Old Age Par- 
 tiality of the King Character of Pere La Chaise The 
 Jesuits Choice of a New Confessor Fagon's Opinion 
 Destruction of Port Royal Jansenists and Molinists 
 Pascal Violent Oppression of the Inhabitants of Port 
 Royal. 
 
 IT is time now to retrace my steps to the point from 
 which I have been led away in relating all the in- 
 cidents which arose out of the terrible winter and the 
 scarcity it caused. 
 
 The Court at that time beheld the renewal of a min- 
 istry, which from the time it had lasted was worn down 
 to its very roots, and which was on that account only 
 the more agreeable to the King. On the 2oth of Jan- 
 uary, the Pere La Chaise, the confessor of the King, 
 died at a very advanced age. He was of good family, 
 and his father would have been rich had he not had 
 a dozen children. Pere La Chaise succeeded in 1675 
 to Pere Ferrier as confessor of the King, and occupied 
 that post thirty-two years. The festival of Easter often 
 caused him politic absences during the attachment of 
 the King for Madame de Montespan. On one occa- 
 sion he sent in his place the Pere Deschamps, who 
 bravely refused absolution. The Pere La Chaise was 
 
 237
 
 238 Memoirs of 
 
 of mediocre mind but of good character, just, upright, 
 sensible, prudent, gentle, and moderate, an enemy of 
 informers, and of violence of every kind. He kept 
 clear of many scandalous transactions, befriended the 
 Archbishop of Cambrai as much as he could, refused 
 to push the Port Royal des Champs to its destruction, 
 and always had on his table a copy of the New Testa- 
 ment of Pere Quesnel, saying that he liked what was 
 good wherever he found it. When near his eightieth 
 year, with his head and his health still good, he wished 
 to retire, but the King w-ould not hear of it. Soon af- 
 ter, his faculties became worn out, and feeling this, he 
 repeated his wish. The Jesuits, who perceived his fail- 
 ing more than he did himself, and felt the diminution 
 of his credit, exhorted him to make way for another 
 who should have the grace and zeal of novelty. For 
 his part he sincerely desired repose, and he pressed 
 the King to allow him to take it, but all in vain. He 
 was obliged to bear his burthen to the very end. Even 
 the infirmities and the decrepitude that afflicted could 
 not deliver him. Decaying legs, memory extinguished, 
 judgment collapsed, all his faculties confused, strange 
 inconveniences for a confessor nothing could disgust 
 the King, and he persisted in having this corpse brought 
 to him and carrying on customary business with it. 
 At last, two days after a return from Versailles, he grew 
 much weaker, received the sacrament, wrote with his 
 own hand a long letter to the King, received a very 
 rapid and hurried one in reply, and soon after died at 
 five o'clock in the morning very peaceably. His con- 
 fessor asked him two things, whether he had acted ac- 
 cording to his conscience, and whether he had thought
 
 Saint-Simon 239 
 
 of the interests and honour of the company of Jesuits; 
 and to both these questions he answered satisfactorily. 
 
 The news was brought to the King as he came out 
 of his cabinet. He received it like a Prince accustomed 
 to losses, praised the Pere La Chaise for his goodness, 
 and then said smilingly, before all the courtiers, and 
 quite aloud, to the two fathers who had come to an- 
 nounce the death: " He was so good that I sometimes 
 reproached him for it, and he used to reply to me : ' It 
 is not I who am good; it is you who are hard.' ' 
 
 Truly the fathers and all the auditors were so sur- 
 prised at this that they lowered their eyes. The re- 
 mark spread directly; nobody was able to blame the 
 Pere La Chaise. He was generally regretted, for he 
 had done much good and never harm except in self- 
 defence. Marechal, first surgeon of the King, and 
 possessed of his confidence, related once to me and Ma- 
 dame de Saint-Simon, a very important anecdote refer- 
 ring to this time. He said that the King, talking to 
 him privately of the Pere La Chaise, and praising him 
 for his attachment, related one of the great proofs he 
 had given of it. A few years before his death the Pere 
 said that he felt getting old, and that the King might 
 soon have to choose a new confessor; he begged that 
 that confessor might be chosen from among the Jesu- 
 its, that he knew them well, that they were far from 
 deserving all that had been said against them, but 
 still he knew them well- and that attachment for the 
 King and desire for his safety induced him to conjure 
 him to act as he requested; because the company con- 
 tained many sorts of minds and characters which could 
 not be answered for, and must not be reduced to de-
 
 240 Memoirs of 
 
 spair, and that the King must not incur a risk that 
 in fact an unlucky blow is soon given, and had been 
 given before then. Marechal turned pale at this re- 
 cital of the King, and concealed as well as he could the 
 disorder it caused in him. We must remember that 
 Henry IV. recalled the Jesuits, and loaded them with 
 gifts merely from fear of them. The King was not 
 superior to Henry IV. He took care not to forget 
 the communication of the Pere La Chaise, or expose 
 himself to the vengeance of the company by choosing 
 a confessor out of their limits. He wanted to live, and 
 to live in safety. He requested the Dues de Chevreuse 
 and, de Beauvilliers to make secret inquiries for a proper 
 person. They fell into a trap made, were dupes them- 
 selves, and the Church and State the victims. 
 
 The Pere Tellier, in fact, was chosen as successor of 
 Pere La Chaise, and a terrible successor he made. 
 Harsh, exact, laborious, enemy of all dissipation, of all 
 amusement, of all society, incapable of associating even 
 with his colleagues, he demanded no leniency for him- 
 self and accorded none to others. His brain and his 
 health were of iron; his conduct was so also; his nat- 
 ure was savage and cruel. He was profoundly false, 
 deceitful, hidden under a thousand folds; and when he 
 could show himself and make himself feared, he yielded 
 nothing, laughed at the most express promises when 
 he no longer cared to keep to them, and pursued with 
 fury those who had trusted to them. He was the ter- 
 ror even of the Jesuits, and was so violent to them that 
 they scarcely dared approach him. His exterior kept 
 faith with his interior. He would have been terrible 
 to meet in a dark lane. His physiognomy was cloudy,
 
 Saint-Simon 241 
 
 false, terrible; his eyes were burning, evil, extremely 
 squinting; his aspect struck all with dismay. The 
 whole aim of his life was to advance the interests of .his 
 Society ; that was his god ; his life had been absorbed 
 in that study: surprisingly ignorant, insolent, impudent, 
 impetuous, without measure and without discretion, all 
 means were good that furthered his designs. 
 
 The first time Pere Tellier saw the King in his cabi- 
 net, after having been presented to him, there was no- 
 body but Bloin and Fagon in a corner. Fagon, bent 
 double and leaning on his stick, watched the interview 
 and studied the physiognomy of this new personage 
 his duckings, and scrapings, and his words. The 
 King asked him if he were a relation of MM. le Tellier. 
 The good father humbled himself in the dust. " I, 
 Sire! " answered he, " a relative of MM. le Tellier! I 
 am very different from that. I am a poor peasant of 
 Lower Normandy, where my father was a farmer." 
 Fagon, who watched him in every movement, twisted 
 himself up to look at Bloin, and said, pointing to the 
 Jesuit: " Monsieur, what a cursed ! " Then shrug- 
 ging his shoulders, he curved over his stick again. It 
 turned out that he was not mistaken in his strange judg- 
 ment of a confessor. This Tellier made all the grim- 
 aces, not to say the hypocritical monkey-tricks of a 
 man who was afraid of his place, and only took it out 
 of deference to his company. 
 
 I have dwelt thus upon this new confessor, because 
 from him have come the incredible tempests under 
 which the Church, the State, knowledge, and doctrine, 
 and many good people of all kinds, are still groaning; 
 and because I had a more intimate acquaintance with 
 VOL. II. 16
 
 242 Memoirs of 
 
 this terrible personage than had any man at the Court. 
 He introduced himself to me in fact, to my surprise; 
 and although I did all in my power to shun his ac- 
 quaintance, I could not succeed. He was too danger- 
 ous a man to be treated with anything but great 
 prudence. 
 
 During the autumn of this year, he gave a sample of 
 his quality in the part he took in the destruction of the 
 celebrated monastery of Port Royal des Champs. I 
 need not dwell at any great length upon the origin 
 and progress of the two religious parties, the Jansenists 
 and the Molinists; enough has been written on both 
 sides to form a whole library. It is enough for me to 
 say that the Molinists were so called because they 
 adopted the views expounded by the Pere Molina in 
 a book he wrote against the doctrines of St. Augustin 
 and of the Church of Rome, upon the subject of spir- 
 itual grace. The Pere Molina was a Jesuit, and it was 
 by the Jesuits his book was brought forward and sup- 
 ported. Finding, however, that the views it expounded 
 met with general opposition, not only throughout 
 France, but at Rome, they had recourse to their usual 
 artifices on feeling themselves embarrassed, turned 
 themselves into accusers instead of defendants, and in- 
 vented a heresy that had neither author nor follower, 
 which they attributed to Cornelius Jansenius, Bishop of 
 Ypres. Many and long were the discussions at Rome 
 upon this ideal heresy, invented by the Jesuits solely 
 for the purpose of weakening the adversaries of Molina. 
 To oppose his doctrines was to be a Jansenist. That 
 in substance was what was meant by Jansenism. 
 
 At the monastery of Port Royal des Champs, a num-
 
 Saint-Simon 243 
 
 her of holy and learned personages lived in retirement. 
 Some wrote, some gathered youths around them, and 
 instructed them in science and piety. The finest moral 
 works, works which have thrown the most light upon 
 the science and practice of religion, and have been 
 found so by everybody, issued from their hands. These 
 men entered into the quarrel against Molinism. This 
 was enough to excite against them the hatred of the 
 Jesuits, and to determine that body to attempt their 
 destruction. 
 
 They were accused of Jansenism, and defended them- 
 selves perfectly; but at the same time they carried the 
 war into the enemy's camp, especially by the ingenious 
 " Provincial Letters " of the famous Pascal. 
 
 The quarrel grew more hot between the Jesuits and 
 Port Royal, and was telling against the former, when 
 the Pere Tellier brought all his influence to bear, to 
 change the current of success. He was, as I have said, 
 an ardent man, whose divinity was his Molinism, and 
 the company to which he belonged. Confessor to the 
 King, he saw himself in a good position to exercise 
 unlimited authority. He saw that the King was very 
 ignorant, and prejudiced upon all religions matters; 
 that he was surrounded by people as ignorant and as 
 prejudiced as himself, Madame de Maintenon, M. de 
 Beauvilliers, M. de Chevreuse, and others, and he de- 
 termined to take good advantage of this state of things. 
 Step by step he gained over the King to his views, and 
 convinced him that the destruction of the monastery 
 of Port Royal des Champs was a duty which lie owed 
 to his conscience, and the cause of religion. This point 
 gained, the means to destroy the establishment were 
 soon resolved on.
 
 244 Memoirs of 
 
 There was another monastery called Port Royal, at 
 Paris, in addition to the one in question. It was now 
 pretended that the latter had only been allowed to exist 
 by tolerance, and that it was necessary one should cease 
 to exist. Of the two, it was alleged that it was better 
 to preserve the one at Paris. A decree in council was, 
 therefore, rendered, in virtue of which, on the night 
 from the 28th to the 2Qth of October, the abbey of Port 
 Royal des Champs was secretly invested by troops, and, 
 on the next morning, the officer in command made all 
 the inmates assemble, showed them a Icttrc dc cachet, 
 and, without giving them more than a quarter of an 
 hour's warning, carried off everybody and everything. 
 He had brought with him many coaches, with an elderly 
 woman in each; he put the nuns in these coaches, and 
 sent them away to their destinations, which were dif- 
 ferent monasteries, at ten, twenty, thirty, forty, and 
 even fifty leagues distant, each coach accompanied by 
 mounted archers, just as public women are carried away 
 from a house of ill-fame! I pass in silence all the ac- 
 companiments to this scene, so touching and so 
 strangely new. There have been entire volumes writ- 
 ten upon it. 
 
 The treatment that these nuns received in their va- 
 rious prisons, in order to force them to sign a con- 
 demnation of themselves, is the matter of other volumes, 
 which, in spite of the vigilance of the oppressors, were 
 soon in everybody's hands; public indignation so burst 
 out, that the Court and the Jesuits even were embar- 
 rassed with it. But the Pere Tcllier was not a man 
 to stop half-way anywhere. He finished this matter 
 directly; decree followed decree, Icttrcs dc cachet fol-
 
 Saint-Simon 
 
 245 
 
 lowed Icttrcs dc cachet. The families who had relatives 
 buried in the cemetery of Port Royal des Champs were 
 ordered to exhume and carry them elsewhere. All the 
 others were thrown into the cemetery of an adjoining 
 parish, with the indecency that may be imagined. Af- 
 terwards, the house, the church, and all the buildings 
 were razed to the ground, so that not one stone was 
 left upon another. All the materials were sold, the 
 ground was ploughed up, and sown not with salt, it 
 is true, but that was all the favour it received! The 
 scandal at this reached even to Rome. I have restrict- 
 ed myself to this simple and short recital of an expedi- 
 tion so militarv and so odious.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Death of D'Avaux A Quarrel about a Window Louvois and 
 the King Anecdote of Boisseuil Madame de Maintenon 
 and M. de Beauvilliers Harcourt Proposed for the Council 
 His Disappointment Death of M. le Prince His Char- 
 acter Treatment of His Wife His Love Adventures His 
 Madness A Confessor Brought Nobody Regrets Him. 
 
 THE death of D'Avaux, who had formerly been our 
 ambassador in Holland, occurred in the early 
 part of this year (1709). D'Avaux was one of the 
 first to hear of the project of William of Orange upon 
 England, when that project was still only in embryo, 
 and kept profoundly secret. He apprised the King 
 (Louis XIV.) of it, but was laughed at. Barillon, then 
 our ambassador in England, was listened to in prefer- 
 ence. He, deceived by Sunderland and the other 
 perfidious ministers of James II., assured our Court 
 that D'Avaux's reports were mere chimeras. It was 
 not until it was impossible any longer to doubt that 
 credit was given to them. The steps that we then 
 took, instead of disconcerting all the measures of the 
 conspirators, as we could have done, did not interfere 
 with the working out of any one of their plans. All 
 liberty was left, in fact, to William to carry out his 
 scheme. The anecdote which explains how this hap- 
 
 246 2
 
 Saint-Simon 247 
 
 pened is so curious, that it deserves to be mentioned 
 here. 
 
 Louvois, who was then Minister of War, was also 
 superintendent of the buildings. The King, who liked 
 building, and who had cast off all his mistresses, had 
 pulled down the little porcelain Trianon he had made 
 for Madame de Montespan, and w r as rebuilding it in 
 the form it still retains. One day he perceived, for his 
 glance was most searching, that one window w r as a 
 trifle narrower than the others. He showed it to Lou- 
 vois, in order that it might be altered, which, as it was 
 not then finished, was easy to do. Louvois sustained 
 that the window was all right. The King insisted 
 then, and on the morrow also, but Louvois, pig-headed 
 and inflated with his authority, would not yield. 
 
 The next day the King saw Le Xotre in the gallery. 
 Although his trade was gardens rather than houses, 
 the King did not fail to consult him upon the latter. 
 He asked him if he had been to Trianon. Le Xotre 
 replied that he had not. The King ordered him to go. 
 On the morrow he saw Le Xotre again ; same ques- 
 tion, same answer. The King comprehended the rea- 
 son of this, and a little annoyed, commanded him to 
 be there that afternoon at a given time. Le X"otre 
 did not dare to disobey this time. The King arrived, 
 and Louvois being present, they returned to the sub- 
 ject of the window, which Louvois obstinately said was 
 as broad as the rest. The King wished Le Xotre to 
 measure it, for he knew that, upright and true, he 
 would openly say what he found. Louvois piqued, 
 grew angry. The King, who was not less so, allowed 
 him to say his say. Le Xotre, meanwhile, did not stir.
 
 248 Memoirs of 
 
 At last, the King made him go, Louvois still grum- 
 bling, and maintaining his assertion with audacity and 
 little measure. Le Notre measured the window, and 
 said that the King was right by several inches. Lou- 
 vois still wished to argue, but the King silenced him, 
 and commanded him to see that the window was 
 altered at once, contrary to custom abusing him most 
 harshly. 
 
 What annoyed Louvois most was, that this scene 
 passed not only before all the officers of the buildings, 
 but in presence of all who followed the King in his 
 promenades, nobles, courtiers, officers of the guard, 
 and others, even all the rolete. The dressing given to 
 Louvois was smart and long, mixed with reflections 
 upon the fault of this window, which, not noticed so 
 soon, might have spoiled all the fagade, and compelled 
 it to be re-built. 
 
 Louvois, who was not accustomed to be thus treated, 
 returned home in fury, and like a man in despair. His 
 familiars were frightened, and in their disquietude 
 angled to learn what had happened. At last he told 
 them, said he was lost, and that for a few inches the 
 King forgot all his services, which had led to so many 
 conquests ; he declared that henceforth he would leave 
 the trowel to the King, bring about a war, and so ar- 
 range matters that the King should have good need 
 of him ! 
 
 He soon kept his word. He caused a war to grow 
 out of the affair of the double election of Cologne, of 
 the Prince of Bavaria, and of the Cardinal of Fiirsten- 
 berg ; he confirmed it in carrying the flames into the 
 Palatinate, and in leaving, as I have said, all liberty
 
 Saint-Simon 249 
 
 to the project upon England ; he put the finishing 
 touch to his work by forcing the Duke of Savoy into 
 the arms of his enemies, and making him become, by 
 the position of his country, our enemy, the most diffi- 
 cult and the most ruinous. All that I have here re- 
 lated was clearly brought to light in due time. 
 
 Boisseuil died shortly after D'Avaux. He was a 
 tall, big man, warm and violent, a great gambler, bad 
 tempered, who often treated M. le Grand and Ma- 
 dame d'Armagnac, great people as they were, so that 
 the company were ashamed, and who swore in the 
 saloon of Marly as if he had been in a tap-room. He 
 was feared ; and he said to women whatever came 
 uppermost when the fury of a cut-throat seized him. 
 During a journey the King and Court made to Xancy, 
 Boisseuil one evening sat down to play in the house 
 of one of the courtiers. A player happened to be there 
 who played very high. Boisseuil lost a good deal, and 
 was very angry. He thought he perceived that this 
 gentleman, who was only permitted on account of his 
 play, was cheating, and made such good use of his 
 eyes that he soon found this was the case, and all on a 
 sudden stretched across the table and seized the gam- 
 bler's hand, which he held upon the table, with the cards 
 he was going to deal. The gentleman, very much as- 
 tonished, wished to withdraw his hand, and was angry. 
 Boisseuil, stronger than he, said that he was a rogue, 
 and that the company should see it, and immediately 
 shaking his hand with fury put in evidence his deceit. 
 The player, confounded, rose and went away. The 
 game went on, and lasted long into the night. When 
 finished, Boisseuil went away. As he was leaving the
 
 250 Memoirs of 
 
 door he found a man stuck against the wall it was 
 the player who called him to account for the insult 
 he had received. Boisseuil replied that he should give 
 him no satisfaction, and that he was a rogue. 
 
 " That may be," said the player, " but I don't like to 
 be told so." 
 
 They went away directly and fought. Boisseuil re- 
 ceived two wounds, from one of which he w r as like to 
 die. The other escaped without injury. 
 
 I have said, that after the affair of M. de Cambrai, 
 Madame de Maintenon had taken a rooted dislike to 
 M. de Beauvillicrs. She had become reconciled to 
 him in appearance during the time that Monseigneur 
 de Bourgogne was a victim to the calumnies of M. de 
 Vendome, because she had need of him. Now that 
 Monseigneur de Bourgogne was brought back to 
 favour, and M. de Vendome was disgraced, her an- 
 tipathy for M. de Beauvilliers burst out anew, and she 
 set her wits to work to get rid of him from the Council 
 of State, of which he was a member. The witch wished 
 to introduce her favourite Harcourt there in his place, 
 and worked so well to bring about this result that the 
 King promised he should be received. 
 
 His word given, or rather snatched from him, the 
 King was embarrassed as to how to keep it, for he did 
 not wish openly to proclaim Harcourt minister. It 
 was agreed, therefore, that at the next Council Har- 
 court should be present, as though by accident, in the 
 King's ante-chamber ; that, Spanish matters being 
 brought up, the King should propose to consult Har- 
 court, and immediately after should direct search to be 
 made for him, to see if, by chance, he was close at
 
 Saint-Simon 251 
 
 hand ; that upon finding- him, he should be conducted 
 to the Council, made to enter and seat himself, and 
 ever afterwards be regarded as a Minister of State. 
 
 This arrangement was kept extremely secret, ac- 
 cording to the express commands of the King. I 
 knew it, however, just before it was to be executed, 
 and I saw at once that the day of Harcourt's entry into 
 the Council would be the day of M. de Beauvilliers' dis- 
 grace. I sent, therefore, at once for M. de Beauvilliers, 
 begging him to come to my house immediately, and 
 that I would then tell him why I could not come to 
 him. Without great precaution everything becomes 
 known at Court. 
 
 In less than half an hour M. de Beauvilliers arrived, 
 tolerably disturbed at my message. I asked him if he 
 knew anything, and I turned him about, less to pump 
 him than to make him ashamed of his ignorance, and 
 to persuade him the better afterwards to do what I 
 wished. When I had well trotted out his ignorance, I 
 apprised him of what I had just learnt. He was as- 
 tounded ; he so little expected it ! I had not much 
 trouble to persuade him that, although his expulsion 
 might not yet be determined on, the intrusion of Har- 
 court must pave the way for it. He admitted to me 
 that for some days he had found the King cold and 
 embarrassed with him, but that he had paid little at- 
 tention to the circumstance, the reason of which was 
 now clear. There was no time to lose. In twenty- 
 four hours all would be over. I therefore took the 
 liberty in the first instance of scolding him for his 
 profound ignorance of what passed at the Court, and 
 was bold enough to say to him that he had only to
 
 252 Memoirs of 
 
 thank himself for the situation he found himself in. 
 He let me say to the end without growing angry, then 
 smiled, and said, " Well ! what do you think I ought 
 to do ? " 
 
 That was just what I wanted. I replied that there 
 was only one course open to him, and that was to have 
 an interview with the King early the next morning ; 
 to say to him, that he had been informed Harcourt was 
 about to enter the Council ; that he thought the affairs 
 of State would suffer rather than otherwise if Harcourt 
 did so ; and finally, to allude to the change that had 
 taken place in the King's manner towards him lately, 
 and to say, with all respect, affection, and submission, 
 that he was equally ready to continue serving the King 
 or to give up his appointments, as his Majesty might 
 desire. 
 
 M. de Beauvilliers took pleasure in listening to me. 
 He embraced me closely, and promised to follow the 
 course I had marked out. 
 
 The next morning I went straight to him, and 
 learned that he had perfectly succeeded. He had 
 spoken exactly as I had suggested. The King ap- 
 peared astonished and piqued that the secret of Har- 
 court's entry into the Council was discovered. He 
 would not hear a word as to resignation of office on 
 the part of M. de Beauvilliers, and appeared more sat- 
 isfied with him than ever. Whether, without this in- 
 terview, he would have been lost, I know not, but by 
 the coldness and embarrassment of the King before 
 that interview, and during the first part of it, I am 
 nearly persuaded that he would. M. de Beauvilliers 
 embraced me again very tenderly more than once.
 
 Saint-Simon 253 
 
 As for Harcourt, sure of his good fortune, and 
 scarcely able to contain his joy, he arrived at the meet- 
 ing place. Time ran on. During the Council there 
 are only the most subaltern people in the ante-cham- 
 bers and a few courtiers who pass that way to go from 
 one wing to another. Each of these subalterns eagerly 
 asked M. d'Harcourt what he wanted, if he wished for. 
 anything, and importuned him strongly. He was 
 obliged to remain there, although he had no pretext. 
 He went and came, limping with his stick, not know- 
 ing what to reply to the passers-by, or the attendants 
 by whom he was remarked. At last, after waiting long, 
 he returned as he came, much disturbed at not having 
 been called. He sent word so to Madame de Main- 
 tenon, who, in her turn, was as much disturbed, the 
 King not having said a word to her, and she not hav- 
 ing dared to say a word to him. She consoled Har- 
 court, hoping that at the next Council he would be 
 called. At her wish he waited again, as before, during 
 another Council, but with as little success. He was 
 very much annoyed, comprehending that the affair had 
 fallen through. 
 
 Madame de Maintenon did not, however, like to be 
 defeated in this way. After waiting some time she 
 spoke to the King, reminding him what he had prom- 
 ised to do. The King replied in confusion that he 
 had thought better of it ; that Harcourt was on bad 
 terms with all the Ministers, and might, if admitted 
 to the Council, cause them much embarrassment ; he 
 preferred, therefore, things to remain as they were. 
 This was said in a manner that admitted of no reply. 
 Madame de Maintenon felt herself beaten ; Harcourt
 
 254 Memoirs of 
 
 was in despair. M. de Beanvilliers was quite re-estab- 
 lished in the favour of the King. I pretended to have 
 known nothing of this affair, and innocently asked 
 many questions about it when all was over. I was 
 happy to the last degree that everything had turned 
 out so well. 
 
 M. le Prince, who for more than two years had not 
 appeared at the Court, died at Paris a little after mid- 
 night on the night between Easter Sunday and Mon- 
 day, the last of March and first of April, and in his 
 seventy-sixth year. No man had ever more ability of 
 all kinds, extending even to the arts and mechanics, 
 more valour, and, when it pleased him, more dis- 
 cernment, grace, politeness, and nobility. But then 
 no man had ever before so many useless talents, so 
 much genius of no avail, or an imagination so calcu- 
 lated to be a bugbear to itself and a plague to others. 
 Abjectly and vilely servile even to lackeys, he scrupled 
 not to use the lowest and paltriest means to gain his 
 ends. Unnatural son, cruel father, terrible husband, 
 detestable master, pernicious neighbour ; without 
 friendship, without friends incapable of having any 
 jealous, suspicious, ever restless, full of slyness and 
 artifices to discover and to scrutinise all, (in which he 
 was unceasingly occupied, aided by an extreme vivac- 
 ity and a surprising penetration.) choleric and head- 
 strong to excess even for trifles., difficult of access, 
 never in accord with himself, and keeping all around 
 him in a tremble ; to conclude, impetuosity and avarice 
 were his masters, which monopolised him always. 
 With all this he was a man difficult to be proof against 
 when he put in play the pleasing qualities he pos- 
 sessed.
 
 Saint-Simon 255 
 
 Madame la Princessc, his wife, was his continual 
 victim. She was disgustingly ugly, virtuous, and fool- 
 ish, a little humpbacked, and stunk like a skunk, even 
 from a distance. All these things did not hinder M. le 
 Prince from being jealous of her even to fury up to the 
 very last. The piety, the indefatigable attention of 
 Madame la Princesse, her sweetness, her novice-like 
 submission, could not guarantee her from frequent in- 
 juries, or from kicks, and blows with the fist, which 
 were not rare. She was not mistress even of the most 
 trifling things ; she did not dare to propose or ask any- 
 thing. He made her set out from one place to another 
 the moment the fancy took him. Often when seated 
 in their coach he made her descend, or return from the 
 end of the street, then re-commence the journey after 
 dinner, or the next day. This see-sawing lasted once 
 fifteen days running, before a trip to Fontainebleau. 
 At other times he sent for her from church, made her 
 quit high mass, and sometimes sent for her the moment 
 she was going to receive the sacrament ; she was 
 obliged to return at once and put off her communion 
 to another occasion. It was not that he wanted her, 
 but it was merely to gratify his whim that he thus 
 troubled her. 
 
 He was always of uncertain habits, and had four 
 dinners ready for him every day ; one at Paris, one at 
 Ecouen, one at Chantilly, and one where the Court 
 was. But the expense of this arrangement was not 
 great ; he dined on soup, and the half of a fowl roasted 
 upon a crust of bread ; the other half serving for the 
 next day. He rarely invited anybody to dinner, but 
 when he did, no man could be more polite or attentive 
 to his guests.
 
 256 Memoirs of 
 
 Formerly he had been in love with several ladies of 
 the Court ; then, nothing cost too much. He was 
 grace, magnificence, gallantry in person a Jupiter 
 transformed into a shower of gold. Now he disguised 
 himself as a lackey, another time as a female broker 
 in articles for the toilette ; and now in another fashion. 
 He was the most ingenious man in the world. He 
 once gave a grand fete solely for the purpose of re- 
 tarding the journey into Italy of a lady with whom he 
 was enamoured, with whom he was on good terms, 
 and whose husband he amused by making verses. He 
 hired all the houses on one side of a street near Saint 
 Sulpice, furnished them, and pierced the connecting 
 walls, in order to be able thus to reach the place of 
 rendezvous without being suspected. 
 
 Jealous and cruel to his mistresses, he had, amongst 
 others, the Marquise de Richelieu ; whom I name, be- 
 cause she is not worth the trouble of being silent upon. 
 He was hopelessly smitten and spent millions upon her 
 and to learn her movements. He knew that the Comte 
 de Roucy shared her favours (it was for her that sa- 
 gacious Count proposed to put straw before the house 
 in order to guarantee her against the sound of the 
 church bells, of which she complained). M. le Prince 
 reproached her for favouring the Count. She de- 
 fended herself ; but he watched her so closely, that he 
 brought home the offence to her without her being 
 able to deny it. The fear of losing a lover so rich as 
 was M. le Prince furnished her on the spot with an 
 excellent suggestion for putting him at ease. She 
 proposed to make an appointment at her own house 
 with the Comte de Roucy, M. le Prince's people to lie
 
 Saint-Simon 257 
 
 in wait, and when the Count appeared, to make away 
 with him. Instead of the success she expected from a 
 proposition so humane and ingenious, M. le Prince 
 was so horror-struck, that he warned the Comte cle 
 Roucy, and never saw the Marquise de Richelieu again 
 all his life. 
 
 The most surprising thing was, that with so much 
 ability, penetration, activity, and valour, as had M. le 
 Prince, with the desire to be as great a warrior as the 
 Great Conde, his father, he could never succeed in 
 understanding even the first elements of the military 
 art. Instructed as he was by his father, he never ac- 
 quired the least aptitude in war. It was a profession 
 he was not born for, and for which he could not qualify 
 himself by study. 
 
 During the last fifteen or twenty years of his life, he 
 was accused of something more than fierceness and 
 ferocity. "Wanderings were noticed in his conduct, 
 which were not exhibited in his own house alone. 
 Entering one morning into the apartment of the Mare- 
 chale de Xoailles (she herself has related this to me) 
 as her bed was being made, and there being only the 
 counterpane to put on, he stopped short at the door, 
 crying with transport, " Oh, the nice bed, the nice 
 bed ! " took a spring, leaped upon the bed, rolled him- 
 self upon it seven or eight times, then descended and 
 made his excuses to the Marechale, saying that her 
 bed was so clean and so well-made, that he could not 
 hinder himself from jumping upon it : and this, al- 
 though there had never been anything between them ; 
 and when the Marechale, who all her life had been 
 above suspicion, was at an age at which she could not 
 VOL. II. 17
 
 258 Memoirs of 
 
 give birth to any. Her servants remained stupefied, 
 and she as much as they. She got out of the difficulty 
 by laughing and treating it as a joke. It was whis- 
 pered that there were times when M. le Prince believed 
 himself a dog, or some other beast, whose manners he 
 imitated ; and I have known people very worthy of 
 faith who have assured me they have seen him at the 
 going to bed of the King suddenly throw his head into 
 the air several times running, and open his mouth quite 
 wide, like a dog while barking, yet without making a 
 noise. It is certain, that for a long time nobody saw 
 him except a single valet, who had control over him, 
 and who did not annoy him. 
 
 In the latter part of his life he attended in a ridicu- 
 lously minute manner to his diet and its results, and 
 entered into discussions which drove his doctors to 
 despair. Fever and gout at last attacked him, and he 
 augmented them by the course he pursued. Finot, 
 our physician and his, at times knew not what to do 
 with him. What embarrassed Finot most, as he re- 
 lated to us more than once_, was that M. le Prince 
 would eat nothing, for the simple reason, as he alleged, 
 that he was dead, and that dead men did not eat ! It 
 was necessary, however, that he should take some- 
 thing, or he would have really died. Finot, and 
 another doctor who attended him, determined to agree 
 with him that he was dead, but to maintain that dead 
 men sometimes eat. They offered to produce dead 
 men of this kind; and, in point of fact, led to M. le 
 Prince some persons unknown to him, who pretended 
 to be dead, but who ate nevertheless. This trick suc- 
 ceeded, but he would never eat except with these men,
 
 Saint-Simon 259 
 
 and Finot. On that condition he ate well, and this jeal- 
 ousy lasted a long time, and drove Finot to despair by 
 its duration ; who, nevertheless, sometimes nearly died 
 of laughter in relating to us what passed at these re- 
 pasts, and the conversation from the other world heard 
 there. 
 
 M. le Prince's malady augmenting, Madame la Prin- 
 cesse grew bold enough to ask him if he did not wish 
 to think of his conscience, and to see a confessor. 
 He amused himself tolerably long in refusing to do 
 so. Some months before he had seen in secret Pere 
 de la Tour. He had sent to the reverend father asking 
 him to come by night and disguised. Pere de la Tour, 
 surprised to the last degree at so wild a proposition, 
 replied that the respect he owed to the cloth would 
 prevent him visiting M. le Prince in disguise ; but that 
 he would come in his ordinary attire. AI. le Prince 
 agreed to this last imposed condition. He made the 
 Pere de la Tour enter at night by a little back door, 
 at which an attendant was in waiting to receive him. 
 He was led by this attendant, who had a lantern in one 
 hand and a key in the other, through many long and 
 obscure passages, and through many doors, which 
 were opened and closed upon him as he passed. Hav- 
 ing arrived at last at the sick-chamber, he confessed 
 M. le Prince, and was conducted out of the house in 
 the same manner and by the same way as before. 
 These visits were repeated during several months. 
 
 The Prince's malady rapidly increased and became 
 extreme. The doctors found him so ill on the night 
 of Easter Sunday that they proposed to him the sacra- 
 ment for the next day. He disputed with them, and
 
 260 
 
 Saint-Simon 
 
 said that if he was so very bad it would be better to 
 take the sacraments at once, and have done with them. 
 They in their turn opposed this, saying there was no 
 need of so much hurry. At last, for fear of incensing 
 him, they consented, and he received all hurriedly the 
 last sacraments. A little while after he called M. le 
 Due to him, and spoke of the honours he wished at his 
 funeral, mentioning those which had been omitted at 
 the funeral of his father, but which he did not wish to 
 be omitted from his. He talked of nothing but this 
 and of the sums he had spent at Chantilly, until his 
 reason began to wander. 
 
 Not a soul regretted him ; neither servants nor 
 friends, neither child nor wife. Indeed the Princess 
 was so ashamed of her tears that she made excuses for 
 them. This was scarcely to be wondered at.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Progress of the War Simplicity of Chamillart The Im- 
 perialists and the Pope Spanish Affairs Due d'Orleans 
 and Madame des Ursins Arrest of Flotte in Spain Dis- 
 covery of the Intrigues of the Due d'Orleans Cabal against 
 Him His Disgrace and Its Consequences. 
 
 IT is time now that I should speak of our military 
 operations this year and of the progress of the war. 
 Let me commence by stating the disposition of our 
 armies at the beginning of the campaign. 
 
 Marechal Boufflers, having become dangerously ill, 
 was unable to take command in Flanders. Marechal 
 de Villars was accordingly appointed in his stead un- 
 der Monseigneur, and with him served the King of 
 England, under his incognito of the previous year, and 
 M. le Due de Berry, as volunteers. The Marechal 
 d'Harcourt was appointed to command upon the Rhine 
 under Monseigneur le Due de Bourgogne. M. d'Or- 
 leans commanded in Spain; Marechal Berwick in 
 Dauphiny; and the Due de Noailles in Roussillon, as 
 usual. The generals went to their destinations, but the 
 Princes remained at the Court. 
 
 Before I relate what we did in war, let me here state 
 the strange opposition of our ministers in their at- 
 tempts to bring about peace. Since Yillars had intro- 
 
 261
 
 262 Memoirs of 
 
 duced Chamillart to Court, he had heard it said that 
 M. de Louvois did everybody's business as much as he 
 could; and took it into his head that having succeeded 
 to M. de Louvois he ought to act exactly like him. For 
 some time past, accordingly, Chamillart, with the 
 knowledge of the King, had sent people to Holland and 
 elsewhere to negotiate for peace, although he had no 
 right to do so, Torcy being the minister to whose de- 
 partment this business belonged. Torcy likewise sent 
 people to Holland and elsewhere with a similar object, 
 and these ambassadors of the two ministers, instead of 
 working in common, did all in their power to thwart 
 each other. They succeeded so well that it was said 
 they seemed in foreign countries ministers of different 
 powers, whose interests were quite opposed. This 
 manner of conducting business gave a most injurious 
 idea of our government, and tended very much to bring 
 it into ridicule. Those who sincerely wished to treat 
 with us, found themselves so embarrassed between the 
 rival factions, that they did not know what to do; and 
 others made our disagreements a plausible pretext for 
 not listening to our propositions. 
 
 At last Torcy was so annoyed with the interference 
 of Chamillart, that he called the latter to account for 
 it, and made him sign an agreement by which he bound 
 himself to enter into no negotiations for peace and to 
 mix himself in no foreign affairs; and so this absurdity 
 came to an end. 
 
 In Italy, early this year, we received a check of no 
 small importance. I have mentioned that we were in- 
 vited to join in an Italian league, having for its object 
 to oppose the Emperor. We joined this league, but
 
 Saint-Simon 263 
 
 not before its existence had been noised abroad, and 
 put the allies on their guard as to the danger they ran 
 of losing Italy. Therefore the Imperialists entered the 
 Papal States, laid them under contribution, ravaged 
 them, lived there in true Tartar style, and snapped their 
 fingers at the Pope, who cried aloud as he could obtain 
 no redress and no assistance. Pushed at last to ex- 
 tremity by the military occupation which desolated his 
 States, he yielded to all the wishes of the Emperor, and 
 recognised the Archduke as King of Spain. Philip Y. 
 immediately ceased all intercourse with Rome, and dis- 
 missed the nuncio from Madrid. The Imperialists, 
 even after the Pope had ceded to their wishes, treated 
 him with the utmost disdain, and continued to ravage 
 his territories. The Imperialist minister at Rome, act- 
 ually gave a comedy and a ball in his palace there, con- 
 trary to the express orders of the Pope, who had for- 
 bidden all kinds of amusement in this period of 
 calamity. \Yhen remonstrated with by the Pope, this 
 minister said that he had promised a fete to the ladies, 
 and could not break his word. The strangest thing is, 
 that after this public instance of contempt the nephews 
 of the Pope went to the fete, and the Pope had the 
 weakness to suffer it. 
 
 In Spain, everything went wrong, and people began 
 to think it would be best to give up that country to the 
 house of Austria, under the hope that by this means 
 the war would be terminated. It was therefore se- 
 riously resolved to recall all our troops from Spain, and 
 to give orders to Madame des Ursins to quit the coun- 
 try. Instructions were accordingly sent to this effect. 
 The King and Queen of Spain, in the greatest alarm at
 
 264 Memoirs of 
 
 such a violent determination, cried aloud against it, and 
 begged that the execution of it might at least be sus- 
 pended for a while. 
 
 At this, our King paused and called a Council to 
 discuss the subject. It was ultimately agreed to leave 
 sixty-six battalions of our troops to the King of Spain, 
 but to withdraw all the rest. This compromise satisfied 
 nobody. Those who wished to support Spain said this 
 assistance was not enough. The other party said it 
 was too much. 
 
 This determination being arrived at, it seemed as 
 though the only thing to be done was to send M. d'Or- 
 leans to Spain to take command there. But now will 
 be seen the effect of that mischievous pleasantry of his 
 upon Madame de Maintenon and Madame des Ursins, 
 the " she-captain," and the " she-lieutenant " as he 
 called them, in the gross language to which I have be- 
 fore alluded. Those two ladies had not forgiven him 
 his witticism, and had determined to accomplish his 
 disgrace. His own thoughtless conduct assisted them 
 in bringing about this result. 
 
 The King one day asked him if he had much desire 
 to return into Spain. He replied in a manner evidenc- 
 ing his willingness to serve, marking no eagerness. 
 He did not notice that there might be a secret meaning 
 hidden under this question. When he related to me 
 what had passed between him and the King, I blamed 
 the feebleness of his reply, and represented to him the 
 ill effect it would create if at such a time he evinced 
 any desire to keep out of the campaign. He appeared 
 convinced by my arguments, and to wish with more 
 eagerness than before to return to Spain.
 
 Saint-Simon 265 
 
 A few days after, the King asked him, on what terms 
 he believed himself with the Princesse des Ursins; and 
 when M. d'Orleans replied that he believed himself to 
 'be on good terms with her, as he had done all in his 
 power to be so, the King said that he feared it was 
 not thus, since she had asked that he should not be 
 again sent to Spain, saying that he had leagued him- 
 self with all her enemies there, and that a secretary of 
 his, named Renaut, whom he had left behind him, kept 
 up such strict and secret intercourse with those enemies, 
 that she was obliged to demand his recall lest he might 
 do wrong to the name of his master. 
 
 Upon this, M. d'Orleans replied that he was infi- 
 nitely surprised at these complaints of JMadame des Ur- 
 sins, since he had done nothing to deserve them. The 
 King, after reflecting for a moment, said he thought, 
 all things considered, that M. d'Orleans had better not 
 return to Spain. In a few days it was publicly known 
 that he would not go. The withdrawal of so many of 
 our troops from Spain was the reason alleged. At the 
 same* time the King gave orders to M. d'Orleans to send 
 for his equipages from Spain, and added in his ear, 
 that he had better send some one of sense for them, 
 who might be the bearer of a protest, if Philip V. quit- 
 ted his throne. At least this is what M. d'Orleans told 
 me, although few people believed him in the end. 
 
 M. d'Orleans chose for this errand a man named 
 Flotte, very skilful in intrigue, in which he had, so to 
 speak, been always brought up. He went straight to 
 Madrid, and one of his first employments when he ar- 
 rived there was to look for Renaut, the secretary just 
 alluded to. But Renaut was nowhere to be found, nor
 
 266 Memoirs of 
 
 could any news be heard of him. Flotte stayed some 
 time in Madrid, and then went to the army, which was 
 still in quarters. He remained there three weeks, idling 
 from quarter to quarter, saluting the Marechal in com- 
 mand, who was much surprised at his long stay, and 
 who pressed him to return into France. At last Flotte 
 took leave of the Marechal, asking him for an escort 
 for himself and a commissary, with whom he meant 
 to go in company across the Pyrenees. Twenty dra- 
 goons were given him as escort, and he and the com- 
 missary set out in a chaise. 
 
 They had not proceeded far before Flotte perceived 
 that they were followed by other troops besides those 
 guarding them. Flotte fearing that something was 
 meant by this, slipped a pocket-book into the hands 
 of the commissary, requesting him to take care of it. 
 Shortly afterwards the chaise was surrounded by troops, 
 and stopped; the two travellers were made to alight. 
 The commissary was ordered to give up the pocket- 
 book, an order that he complied with very rapidly, and 
 Flotte was made prisoner, and escorted back to the 
 spot he had just left. 
 
 The news of this occurrence reached the King on 
 the 1 2th of July, by the ordinary courier from Madrid. 
 The King informed M. d'Orleans of it, who, having 
 learnt it by a private courier six days before, affected 
 nevertheless surprise, and said it was strange that one 
 of his people should have been thus arrested, and that 
 as his Majesty was concerned, it was for him to demand 
 the reason. The King replied, that in fact the injury 
 regarded him more than M. d'Orleans, and that he 
 would give orders to Torcy to write as was necessary 
 to Spain.
 
 Saint-Simon 267 
 
 It is not difficult to believe that such an explosion 
 made a great noise, both in France and Spain; but the 
 noise it made at first was nothing to that which fol- 
 lowed. A cabal was formed against Monsieur le Due 
 d'Orleans. It was said that he had plotted to place 
 himself upon the Spanish throne, by driving out Philip 
 V., under pretext of his incapacity, of the domination 
 of Madame des Ursins, and of the abandonment of the 
 country by France; that he had treated with Stanhope, 
 commander of the English troops in Spain, and with 
 whom he was known to be on friendly terms, in order 
 to be protected by the Archduke. This was the report 
 most widely spread. Others went further. In these 
 M. d'Orleans was accused of nothing less than of in- 
 tending to divorce himself from Madame la Duchesse 
 d'Orleans, as having been married to her by force; of 
 intending to marry the sister of the Empress (widow of 
 Charles II.), and of mounting with her upon the Span- 
 ish throne; to marry Madame d'Argenton, as the Queen 
 Dowager was sure to have no children, and finally, to 
 poison Madame d'Orleans. 
 
 Meanwhile the reply from Spain came not. The King 
 and Monseigneur treated M. d'Orleans with a coldness 
 which made him sorely ill at ease: the majority of the 
 courtiers, following this example, withdrew from him. 
 He was left almost alone. 
 
 I learnt at last from M. d'Orleans how far he was 
 deserving of public censure, and what had given col- 
 ouring to the reports spread against him. He admitted 
 to me, that several of the Spanish grandees had per- 
 suaded him that it was not possible the King of Spain 
 could stand, and had proposed to him to hasten his
 
 268 Memoirs of 
 
 fall, and take his place ; that he had rejected this prop- 
 osition with indignation, but had been induced to 
 promise, that if Philip V. fell of himself, without hope 
 of rising, he would not object to mounting the vacant 
 throne, believing that by so doing he would be doing 
 good to our King, by preserving Spain to his house. 
 
 As soon as I heard this, I advised him to make a 
 clean breast of it to the King, and to ask his pardon 
 for having acted in this matter without his orders and 
 without his knowledge. He thought my advice good, 
 and acted upon it. But the King was too much under 
 the influence of the enemies of M. d'Orleans, to listen 
 favourably to what was said to him. The facts of the 
 case, too, were much against M. d'Orleans. Both 
 Renaut and Flotte had been entrusted with his secret. 
 The former had openly leagued himself with the ene- 
 mies of Madame des Ursins, and acted with the utmost 
 imprudence. He had been privately arrested just be- 
 fore the arrival of Flotte. When this latter was ar- 
 rested, papers were found upon him which brought 
 everything to light. The views of M. d'Orleans and of 
 those who supported him were clearly shown. The 
 King would not listen to anything in favour of his 
 nephew. 
 
 The whole Court cried out against M. d'Orleans ; 
 never was such an uproar heard. He was accused of 
 plotting to overthrow the King of Spain, he, a Prince 
 of the blood, and so closely allied to the two crowns ! 
 Monseigneur, usually so plunged in apathy, roused 
 himself to fury against M. d'Orleans, and insisted upon 
 nothing less than a criminal prosecution. He insisted so 
 strongly upon this, that the King at last consented that
 
 Saint-Simon 269 
 
 it should take place, and gave orders to the chancellor 
 to examine the forms requisite in such a case. While 
 the chancellor was about this work, I went to see him 
 one day, and represented to him so strongly, that M. 
 d'Orleans' misdemeanour did not concern France at 
 all, and could only be judged before a Spanish tribunal, 
 that the idea of a criminal trial was altogether aban- 
 doned almost immediately after. M. d'Orleans was 
 allowed to remain in peace. 
 
 Madame des Ursins and Madame de Maintenon had 
 so far triumphed, however, that M. d'Orleans found 
 himself plunged in the deepest disgrace. He was uni- 
 versally shunned. Whenever he appeared, people flew 
 away, so that they might not be seen in communication 
 with him. His solitude was so great, that for a whole 
 month only one friend entered his house. In the midst 
 of this desertion, he had no resource but debauchery, 
 and the society of his mistress, Madame d'Argenton. 
 The disorder and scandal of his life had for a long time 
 offended the King, the Court, and the public. They 
 now unhappily confirmed everybody in the bad opinion 
 they had formed of him. That the long disgrace he 
 suffered continued to confirm him in his bad habits, 
 and that it explains to some extent his after-conduct, 
 there can be no doubt. But I must leave him now, 
 and return to other matters.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Danger of Chamillart Witticism of D'Harcourt Faults of 
 Chamillart Court Intrigues against Him Behaviour of 
 the Courtiers Influence of Madame de Maintenon Digni- 
 fied Fall of Chamillart He is Succeeded by Voysin First 
 Experience of the New Minister The Campaign in 
 Flanders Battle of Malplaquet. 
 
 BUT, meanwhile, a great change had taken place 
 at Court. Chamillart had committed the mis- 
 take of allowing the advancement of D'Harcourt to 
 the head of an army. The poor man did not see the 
 danger ; and when warned of it, thought his cleverness 
 would preserve him. Reports of his fall had already 
 begun to circulate, and D'Antin had been spoken of in 
 his place. I warned his daughter Dreux, the only one 
 of the family to whom it was possible to speak with 
 profit. The mother, with little wit and knowledge of 
 the Court, full of apparent confidence and sham cun- 
 ning, received all advice ill. The brothers were imbe- 
 cile, the son was a child and a simpleton, the two 
 other daughters too light-headed. I had often warned 
 Madame de Dreux of the enmity of the Duchesse de 
 Bourgogne ; and she had spoken to her on the subject. 
 The Princess had answered very coldly that she was 
 mistaken, that she had no such enmity. At last I suc- 
 
 270
 
 Saint-Simon 271 
 
 ceeded, in this indirect way, in forcing Chamillart to 
 speak to the King on the reports that were abroad ; 
 but he did so in a half-and-half way, and committed 
 the capital mistake of not naming the successor 
 which public rumour mentioned. The King appeared 
 touched, and gave him all sorts of assurances of friend- 
 ship, and made as if he liked him better than ever. I 
 do not know if Chamillart was then near his destruc- 
 tion, and whether this conversation set him up again ; 
 but from the day it took place all reports died away, 
 and the Court thought him perfectly re-established. 
 
 But his enemies continued to work against him. 
 Madame de Maintenon and the Duchesse de Bour- 
 gogne abated not a jot in their enmity. The Marechal 
 d'Harcourt lost no opportunity of pulling him to 
 pieces. One day, among others, he was declaiming 
 violently against him at Madame de Maintenon's, 
 whom he knew he should thus please. She asked him 
 whom he would put in his place. " M. Fagon, Ma- 
 dame," he replied coldly. She laughed, but said this 
 was not a thing to joke about ; but he maintained seri- 
 ously that the old doctor would make a much better 
 minister than Chamillart, for he had some intelligence, 
 which would make up for his ignorance of many mat- 
 ters ; but what could be expected of a man who was 
 ignorant and stupid too? The cunning Norman knew 
 well the effect this strange parallel would have ; and it 
 is indeed inconceivable how damaging his sarcasm 
 proved. A short time afterwards, D'Antin, wishing 
 also to please, but more imprudent, insulted the son 
 of Chamillart so grossly, and abused the father so pub- 
 licly, that he was obliged afterwards to excuse him- 
 self.
 
 272 Memoirs of 
 
 The King held, for the first time in his life, a real 
 council of war. He told the Due de Bourgogne of it, 
 saying rather sharply : " Come, unless you prefer go- 
 ing to vespers." The council lasted nearly three hours, 
 and was stormy. The Marechals were freer in their 
 language than usual, and complained of the ministers. 
 All fell upon Chamillart, who was accused, among 
 other things, of matters that concerned Desmarets, on 
 whom he finished by turning off the King's anger. 
 Chamillart defended himself with so much anger that 
 his voice was heard by people outside. 
 
 But he had of late heaped fault on fault. Besides 
 setting Madame de Maintenon and the Duchesse de 
 Bourgogne against him, he rather wantonly irritated 
 Monseigneur, at that time more than ever under the 
 government of Mademoiselle Choin. The latter had 
 asked him a favour, and had been refused even with 
 contempt. Various advances at reconciliation she 
 made were also repulsed with contumely. Yet every 
 one, even the Duchesse de Bourgogne, crawled before 
 this creature the favourite of the heir to the throne. 
 Madame de Maintenon actually caused the King to 
 offer her apartments at Versailles, which she refused, 
 for fear of losing the liberty she enjoyed at Meudon. 
 D'Antin, who saw all that was going on, became the 
 soul of a conspiracy against Chamillart. It was in- 
 finitely well managed. Everything moved in order 
 and harmony always prudently, always knowingly. 
 
 The King, quietly attacked on all hands, was shaken ; 
 but he had many reasons for sticking to Chamillart. 
 He was his own choice. No minister had stood aside 
 so completely, and allowed the King to receive all the
 
 Saint-Simon 273 
 
 praise of whatever was done. Though the King's rea- 
 son was, therefore, soon influenced, his heart was not 
 so easily. But Madame de Maintenon was not dis- 
 couraged. Monseigneur, urged by Mademoiselle 
 Choin, had already spoken out to the King. She 
 laboured to make him speak again ; for, on the previ- 
 ous occasion, he had been listened to attentively. 
 
 So many machines could not be set in motion with- 
 out some noise being heard abroad. There rose in 
 the Court, I know not what confused murmurs, the 
 origin of which could not be pointed out, publishing 
 that either the State or Chamillart must perish ; that 
 already his ignorance had brought the kingdom within 
 an ace of destruction ; that it was a miracle this de- 
 struction had not yet come to pass ; and that it would 
 be madness to tempt Providence any longer. Some 
 did not blush to abuse him ; others praised his inten- 
 tions, and spoke with moderation of faults that many 
 people reproached him bitterly with. All admitted his 
 rectitude, but maintained that a successor of some kind 
 or other was absolutely necessary. Some, believing 
 or trying to persuade others that they carried friend- 
 ship to as far a point as was possible, protested that 
 they should ever preserve this friendship, and would 
 never forget the pleasure and the services that they 
 had received from Chamillart ; but delicately confessed 
 that they preferred the interests of the State to their 
 own personal advantage and the support they would 
 lose ; that, even if Chamillart were their brother, they 
 would sorrowfully admit the necessity of removing 
 him ! At last, nobody could understand either how 
 such a man could ever have been chosen, or how he 
 VOL. II. iS
 
 274 Memoirs of 
 
 could have remained so long in his place ! All his 
 faults and all his ridicules formed the staple of Court 
 conversation. If anybody referred to the great things 
 he had done, to the rapid gathering of armies after our 
 disasters, people turned on their heels and walked away. 
 Such were the presages of the fall of Chamillart. 
 
 The Marechal de Boufflers, who had never forgiven 
 the causes that led to the loss of Lille, joined in the 
 attack on Chamillart ; and assisted in exciting the King 
 against him. Chamillart has since related to me that 
 up to the last moment he had always been received 
 equally graciously by the King that is, up to two 
 days before his fall. Then, indeed, he noticed that the 
 King's countenance was embarrassed ; and felt inclined 
 to ask if he was displeasing to him, and to offer to re- 
 tire. Had he done so, he might, if we may judge from 
 what transpired subsequently, have remained in office. 
 But now Madame de Maintenon had come personally 
 into the field, and, believing herself sure of success, 
 openly attacked Chamillart. What passed between 
 her and the King was quite private and never related ; 
 but there seems reason to believe that she did not 
 succeed without difficulty. 
 
 On Sunday morning, November 9, the King, on 
 entering the Council of State, called the Due de Beau- 
 villiers to him, and requested him to go in the after- 
 noon and tell Chamillart that he was obliged, for mo- 
 tives of public interest, to ask him to resign his office ; 
 but that, in order to give him a mark of his esteem and 
 satisfaction with his services, he continued his pension 
 of Minister that is to say, twenty thousand francs 
 and added as much more, with one to his son of twenty
 
 Saint-Simon 275 
 
 thousand francs likewise. He added that he should 
 have liked to see Chamillart, but that at first it would 
 grieve him too much : he was not to come till sent for ; 
 he might live in Paris, and go where he liked. The 
 Due de Beauvilliers did all he could to escape from 
 carrying so harsh a message, but could only obtain 
 permission to let the Due de Chevreuse accompany 
 him. 
 
 They went to Chamillart, and found him alone, 
 working in his cabinet. The air of consternation with 
 which they entered, told the unfortunate Minister that 
 something disagreeable had happened ; and without 
 giving them time to speak, he said, with a serene and 
 tranquil countenance, " What is the matter, gentle- 
 men ? If what you have to say concerns only me, you 
 may speak : I have long been prepared for everything." 
 This gentle firmness touched them still more. They 
 could scarcely explain what they came about. Cham- 
 illart listened without any change of countenance, and 
 said, with the same air and tone as at first : ' The 
 King is the master. I have endeavoured to serve him 
 to the best of my ability. I hope some one else will 
 please him better, and be more lucky/' He then 
 asked if he had been forbidden to write to the King, 
 and being told not, he wrote a letter of respect and 
 thanks, and sent it by the two Dukes, with a memoir 
 which he had just finished. He also wrote to Madame 
 de Maintenon. He sent a verbal message to his wife ; 
 and, without complaint, murmur, or sighs, got into his 
 carriage, and drove to L'Etang. Both then and after- 
 wards he showed the greatest magnanimity. Every 
 one went, from a sort of fashion, to visit him. When
 
 276 Memoirs of 
 
 I went, the house looked as if a death had taken place ; 
 and it was frightful to see, in the midst of cries and 
 tears, the dead man walking, speaking with a quiet, 
 gentle air, and serene brow, unconstrained, unaf- 
 fected, attentive to every one, not at all or scarcely 
 different from what he was accustomed to be. 
 
 Chamillart, as I have said, had received permission 
 to live at Paris, if he liked ; but soon afterwards he 
 innocently gave umbrage to Madame de Maintenon, 
 who was annoyed that his disgrace was not followed 
 by general abandonment. She caused him to be 
 threatened secretly, and he prudently left Paris, and 
 went far away, under pretence of seeking for an estate 
 to buy. 
 
 Next day after the fall of Chamillart, it became 
 known that the triumph of Madame de Maintenon was 
 completed, and that Voysin, her creature, was the suc- 
 ceeding Secretary of State. This Voysin had the one 
 indispensable quality for admission into the counsels 
 of Louis XIV. not a drop of noble blood in his veins. 
 He had married, in 1683, the daughter of Trudaine. 
 She had a very agreeable countenance, without any 
 affectation. She appeared simple and modest, and oc- 
 cupied with her household and good works ; but in 
 reality, had sense, wit, cleverness, above all, a natural 
 insinuation, and the art of bringing things to pass 
 without being perceived. She kept with great tact a 
 magnificent house. It was she who received Madame 
 de Maintenon at Dinan, when the King was besieging 
 Namur ; and, as she had been instructed by M. de Lux- 
 embourg in the way to please that lady, succeeded most 
 effectually. Among her arts was her modesty, which
 
 Saint-Simon 277 
 
 led her prudently to avoid pressing herself on Madame 
 de Maintenon, or showing herself more than was abso- 
 lutely necessary. She was sometimes two whole days 
 without seeing her. A trifle, luckily contrived, fin- 
 ished the conquest of Madame de Maintenon. It hap- 
 pened that the weather passed suddenly from excessive 
 heat to a damp cold, which lasted a long time. Im- 
 mediately, an excellent dressing-gown, simple, and well 
 lined, appeared in the corner of the chamber. This 
 present, by so much the more agreeable, as Madame 
 de Maintenon had not brought any warm clothing, 
 touched her also by its suddenness, and by its simple 
 appearance, as if of its own accord. 
 
 In this way, the taste of Madame de Maintenon for 
 Madame Voysin was formed and increased. Madame 
 Voysin obtained an appointment for her husband, and 
 coming to Paris, at last grew extremely familiar with 
 Madame de Maintenon. Voysin himself had much 
 need of the wife that Providence had given him. He 
 was perfectly ignorant of everything but the duties of 
 an Intendant. He was, moreover, rough and uncivil, 
 as the courtiers soon found. He was never unjust for 
 the sake of being so, nor was he bad naturally ; but he 
 knew nothing but authority, the King and Madame 
 de Maintenon, whose will was unanswerable his sov- 
 ereign law and reason. The choice was settled be- 
 tween the King and Madame de Maintenon after 
 supper, the clay of Chamillart's fall. Yoysin was con- 
 ducted to the King by Bloin, after having received the 
 orders and instructions of his benefactress. In the 
 evening of that day, the King found Madame Voysin 
 with Madame de Maintenon, and kissed her several 
 times to please his lady.
 
 278 Memoirs of 
 
 Voysin's first experience of the duties of his office 
 was unpleasant. He was foolish enough, feeling his 
 ignorance, to tell the King, that at the outset he should 
 be obliged to leave everything to his Majesty, but that 
 when he knew better, he would take more on himself. 
 The King, to whom Chamillart used himself to leave 
 everything, was much offended by this language ; and 
 drawing himself up, in the tone of a master, told Voy- 
 sin to learn, once for all, that his duties were to receive 
 and expedite orders, nothing else. He then took the 
 projects brought to him, examined them, prescribed 
 the measures he thought fit, and very stiffly sent away 
 Voysin, who did not know where he was, and had 
 great want of his wife to set his head to rights, and of 
 Madame de Maintenon to give him completer lessons 
 than she had yet been able to do. Shortly afterwards 
 he was forbidden to send any orders without submit- 
 ting them to the Marechal de BoufBers. He was 
 supple, and sure of Madame de Maintenon, and 
 through her of the Marechal, waited for time to re- 
 lease him from this state of tutelage ; and showed noth- 
 ing of his annoyance, especially to Boufflers himself. 
 
 Events soon happened to alter the position of the 
 Marechal de Bouffiers. 
 
 Flanders, ever since the opening of the campaign, 
 had been the principal object of attention. Prince 
 Eugene and Marlborough, joined together, continued 
 their vast designs, and disdained to hide them. Their 
 prodigious preparations spoke of sieges. Shall I say 
 that we desired them, and that we thought of nothing 
 but how to preserve, not use our army? 
 
 Tournai was the first place towards which the ene-
 
 Saint-Simon 279 
 
 mies directed their arms. After a short resistance it 
 fell into their hands. Villars, as I have said, was com- 
 mander in Flanders. Boufflers feeling that, in the 
 position of affairs, such a post must weigh very heavily 
 upon one man, and that in case of his death there was 
 no one to take his place, offered to go to assist him. 
 The King, after some little hesitation, accepted this 
 magnanimous offer, and Boufflers set out. I say mag- 
 nanimous offer, because Boufllers, loaded with hon- 
 ours and glory, might well have hoped to pass the rest 
 of his life in repose. It was hardly possible, do what 
 he might, that he could add to his reputation ; while, 
 on the other hand, it was not unlikely that he might be 
 made answerable for the faults or shortcomings of 
 others, and return to Paris stripped of some of the 
 laurels that adorned his brow. But he thought only 
 of the welfare of the State, and pressed the King to 
 allow him to depart to Flanders. The King, as I have 
 said, at last consented. 
 
 The surprise was great in the army when he arrived 
 there. The general impression was that he was the 
 bearer of news of peace. Villars received him with an 
 air of joy and respect, and at once showed every will- 
 ingness to act in concert with him. The two generals 
 accordingly worked harmoniously together, taking no 
 steps without consulting each other, and showing great 
 deference for each other's opinions. They were like 
 one man. 
 
 After the fall of Tournai, our army took up position 
 at Malplaquet, the right and the left supported by two 
 woods, with hedges and woods before the centre, so 
 that the plain was, as it were, cut in two. Marlbor-
 
 280 Memoirs of 
 
 ough and Prince Eugene marched in their turn, fear- 
 ing lest Villars should embarrass them as they went 
 towards Mons, which place they had resolved to be- 
 siege. They sent on a large detachment of their army, 
 under the command of the Prince of Hesse, to watch 
 ours. He arrived in sight of the camp at Malplaquet 
 at the same time that we entered it, and was quickly 
 warned of our existence by three cannon shots that 
 Villars, out of braggadocio, fired by way of appeal to 
 Marlborough and Prince Eugene. Some little firing 
 took place this day and the next, the loth of September, 
 but without doing much harm on either side. 
 
 Marlborough and Prince Eugene, warned of the 
 perilous state in which the Prince of Hesse w r as placed 
 he would have been lost if attacked hastened at 
 once to join him, and arrived in the middle of the morn- 
 ing of the loth. Their first care was to examine the 
 position of our army, and to do so, while waiting for 
 their rear-guard, they employed a stratagem which 
 succeeded admirably. 
 
 They sent several officers, who had the look of subal- 
 terns, to our lines, and asked to be allowed to speak 
 to our officers. Their request was granted. Alber- 
 gotti came down to them, and discoursed with them a 
 long time. They pretended they came to see whether 
 peace could not be arranged, but they, in reality, spoke 
 of little but compliments, which signified nothing. 
 They stayed so long, under various pretexts, that at 
 last we were obliged to threaten them in order to get 
 rid of them. All this time a few of their best general 
 officers on horseback, and a larger number of engineers 
 and designers on foot, profited by these ridiculous
 
 Saint-Simon 281 
 
 colloquies to put upon paper drawings of our position, 
 thus being able to see the best positions for their can- 
 non, and the best mode, in fact, in which all their dis- 
 position might be made. We learnt this artifice after- 
 wards from the prisoners. 
 
 It was decided that evening to give us battle on the 
 morrow, although the deputies of the States-General, 
 content with the advantages that had been already 
 gained, and not liking to run the risk of failure, were 
 opposed to an action taking place. They were, how- 
 ever, persuaded to agree, and on the following morn- 
 ing the battle began. 
 
 The struggle lasted many hours. But our position 
 had been badly chosen, and, in spite of every effort, we 
 were unable to maintain it. Villars, in the early part 
 of the action, received a wound which incapacitated 
 him from duty. All the burden of command fell upon 
 Boufflers. He bore it well ; but after a time finding 
 his army dispersed, his infantry overwhelmed, the 
 ground slipping from under his feet, he thought only 
 of beating a good and honourable retreat. He led 
 away his army in such good order, that the enemy were 
 unable to interfere with it in the slightest degree. Dur- 
 ing all the march, which lasted until night, w r e did not 
 lose a hundred stragglers, and carried off all the can- 
 non with the exception of a few pieces. The enemy 
 passed the night upon the battle-field, in the midst of 
 twenty-five thousand dead, and marched towards Mons 
 the next evening. They frankly admitted that in men 
 killed and wounded, in general officers and privates, in 
 flags and standard, they had lost more than we. The 
 battle cost them, in fact, seven lieutenant-generals, five
 
 282 Memoirs of 
 
 other generals, about eighteen hundred officers killed 
 or wounded, and more than fifteen thousand men killed 
 or rendered unfit for service. They openly avowed, 
 also, how much they had been surprised by the valour 
 of the majority of our troops, above all of the cavalry, 
 and did not dissimulate that we should have gained 
 the day, had we been better led. 
 
 Why the Marechal Yillars waited ten days to be 
 attacked in a position so disadvantageous, instead of 
 at once marching upon the enemies and overcoming, 
 as he might at first easily have done, it is difficult to 
 understand. He threw all the blame upon his wound, 
 although it was well known that the fate of the day 
 was decided long before he was hurt. 
 
 Although forced to retire, our men burned with 
 eagerness to engage the enemies again. Mons had 
 been laid siege to. Boufflers tried to make the be- 
 siegers give up the undertaking. But his men were 
 without bread and without pay ; the subaltern officers 
 were compelled to eat the regulation bread, the general 
 officers were reduced to the most miserable shifts, and 
 were like the privates, without pay, oftentimes for seven 
 or eight days running. There was no meat and no 
 bread for the army. The common soldiers were re- 
 duced to herbs and roots for all sustenance. Under 
 these circumstances it was found impossible to perse- 
 vere in trying to save Mons. Nothing but subsistence 
 could be thought of. 
 
 The Court had now become so accustomed to de- 
 feats that a battle lost as was Malplaquet seemed half 
 a victory. Boufflers sent a courier to the King with 
 an account of the event, and spoke so favourably of Yil-
 
 Saint-Simon 283 
 
 lars, that all the blame of the defeat fell upon himself. 
 Villars was everywhere pitied and applauded, although 
 he had lost an important battle, when it was in his 
 power to beat the enemies in detail, and render them 
 unable to undertake the siege of Mons, or any other 
 siege. If Boufflers was indignant at this, he was still 
 more indignant at what happened afterwards. In the 
 first dispatch he sent to the King he promised to send 
 another as soon as possible giving full details, with 
 propositions as to how the vacancies which had oc- 
 curred in the army might be filled up. On the very 
 evening he sent off his second dispatch, he received 
 intelligence that the King had already taken his dis- 
 positions with respect to these vacancies, without hav- 
 ing consulted him upon a single point. This was the 
 first reward Boufflers received for the services he had 
 just rendered, and that, too, from a King who had said 
 in public that without Boufflers all was lost, and that 
 assuredly it was God who had inspired him with the 
 idea of going to the army. From that time Boufflers 
 fell into a disgrace from which he never recovered. 
 He had the courage to appear as usual at the Court ; 
 but a worm was gnawing him within and destroyed 
 him. Oftentimes he opened his heart to me without 
 rashness, and without passing the strict limits of his 
 virtue ; but the poniard was in his heart, and neither 
 time nor reflection could dull its edge. He did noth- 
 ing but languish afterwards, yet without being con- 
 fined to his bed or to his chamber, but did not live 
 more than two years. Villars, on the contrary, was in 
 greater favour than ever. He arrived at Court tri- 
 umphant. The King made him occupy an apartment
 
 284 
 
 Saint-Simon 
 
 at Versailles, so that his wound might be well at- 
 tended to. 
 
 What a contrast ! What a difference between the 
 services, the merit, the condition, the virtue, the situa- 
 tion of these two men ! What inexhaustible funds of 
 reflection !* 
 
 * It is as well to point out that the silly and ignorant, who are unable 
 to emancipate themselves from the influence of the title of Great, usually 
 given to Louis XIV., and who are yet candid enough to admit that in 
 conduct and tone of thought he never rose above the level of a pious 
 dancing-master, or conscientious master of the ceremonies, usually fall 
 back on his mysterious tact in choosing men of genius! Every page 
 of Saint-Simon proves that imbecility, properly combined with dishon- 
 esty, was the true passport to his favour. Literature is good enough 
 or servile enough to be grateful to him for not stifling its development. 
 Is France so sure that it might not have done better?
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Disgrace of the Due d'Orleans I Endeavour to Separate Him 
 from Madame d'Argenton Extraordinary Reports My 
 Various Colloquies with Him The Separation Conduct of 
 Madame d'Argenton Death and Character of M. le Due 
 The After-suppers of the King. 
 
 I HAVE described in its proper place the profound fall 
 of M. le Due d'Orleans and the neglect in which 
 he lived, out of all favour with the King, hated by 
 Madame de Maintenon and Monseigneur, and re- 
 garded with an unfavourable eye by the public, on ac- 
 count of the scandals of his private life. I had long 
 seen that the only way in which he could hope to re- 
 cover his position would be to give up his mistress, 
 Madame d'Argenton, with whom he had been on terms 
 of intimacy for many years past, to the knowledge and 
 the scandal of all the world. I knew it would be a bold 
 and dangerous game to play, to try to persuade him to 
 separate himself from a woman he had known and 
 loved so long ; but I determined to engage in it, never- 
 theless, and I looked about for some one to assist me in 
 this enterprise. At once I cast my eyes upon the 
 Marechal de Besons, who for many long years had 
 been the bosom friend of M. d'Orleans. He applauded 
 
 285
 
 286 Memoirs of 
 
 the undertaking, but doubted, he said, its success ; 
 nevertheless he promised to aid me to the utmost of 
 his power, and, it will be seen, was as good as his word. 
 For some time I had no opportunity of accosting M. 
 d'Orleans, and was obliged to keep my project in 
 abeyance, but I did not lose sight of it ; and when I saw 
 my way clear, I took the matter in hand, determined 
 to strain every nerve in order to succeed. 
 
 It was just at the commencement of the year 1710, 
 that I first spoke to M. d'Orleans. I began by extract- 
 ing from him an admission of the neglect into which he 
 had fallen the dislike of the King, the hatred of Mon- 
 seigneur, who accused him of wishing to replace his 
 son in Spain ; that of Madame de Maintenon, whom he 
 had offended by his bon mot; the suspicions of the 
 public, who talked of his chemical experiments and 
 then, throwing off all fear of consequences, I said that 
 before he could hope to draw back his friends and the 
 world to him, he must reinstate himself in the favour 
 of the King. He appeared struck with what I had 
 said, rose after a profound silence, paced to and fro, 
 and then asked, " But how? " Seeing the opportunity 
 so good, I replied in a firm and significant tone, 
 " How ? I know well enough, but I will never tell 
 you ; and yet it is the only thing to do." " Ah, I under- 
 stand you," said he, as though struck with a thunderbolt; 
 " I understand you perfectly ; " and he threw himself 
 upon the chair at the end of the room. There he re- 
 mained some time, without speaking a word, yet agi- 
 tated and sighing, and with his eyes lowered. I broke 
 silence at last, by saying that the state which he was in 
 had touched me to the quick, and that I had deter-
 
 Saint-Simon 287 
 
 mined in conjunction with the Marechal de Besons to 
 speak to him upon the subject, and to propose the 
 only means by which he could hope to bring about a 
 change in his position. He considered some time, and 
 then giving me encouragement to proceed, I entered at 
 some length upon the proposal I had to make to him, 
 and left him evidently affected by what I had said, 
 when I thought I had for the time gone far enough. 
 
 The next day, Thursday, January 2nd, Besons, to 
 whom I had written, joined me ; and after I had com- 
 municated to him what had passed the previous even- 
 ing, we hastened to M. d'Orleans. He received us 
 well, and we at once commenced an attack. In order 
 to aid my purpose as much as possible, I repeated to 
 M. d'Orleans, at this meeting, the odious reports that 
 were in circulation against him, viz., that he intended 
 to repudiate his wife forced upon him by the King, 
 in order to marry the Queen Dowager of Spain, and by 
 means of her gold to open up a path for himself to the 
 Spanish throne ; that he intended to wait for his new 
 wife's death, and then marry Madame d'Argenton, to 
 whom the genii had promised a throne ; and I added, 
 that it was very fortunate that the Duchesse d'Orleans 
 had safely passed through the dangers of her confine- 
 ment, for already some wretches had begun to spread 
 the saying, that he was not the son of Monsieur for 
 nothing. (An allusion to the death of Henriette 
 d'Angleterre.) 
 
 On hearing these words, the Duke was seized with a 
 terror that cannot be described, and at the same time 
 with a grief that is above expression. I took advan- 
 tage of the effect my discourse had had upon him, to
 
 288 Memoirs of 
 
 show how necessary it was he should make a great 
 effort in order to win back the favour of the King and 
 of the public. I represented to him that the only way 
 to do this was to give up Madame d'Argenton, at once 
 and for ever, and to announce to the King that he had 
 done so. At first he would not hear of such a step, 
 and I was obliged to employ all my eloquence, and all 
 my firmness too, to make him listen to reason. One 
 great obstacle in our way was the repugnance of M. 
 d'Orleans for his wife. He had been married, as I 
 have described in the early part of these memoirs, 
 against his will, and with no sort of affection for the 
 woman he was given to. It was natural that he should 
 look upon her with dislike ever since she had become 
 his wife. I did what I could to speak in praise of 
 Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans, and Besons aided me ; 
 but we did little else than waste our breath for some 
 time. Our praises in fact irritated M. d'Orleans, and to 
 such a point, that no longer screening things or names, 
 he told us what we should have wished not to hear, 
 but what it was very lucky we did hear. He had sus- 
 picions, in fact, of his wife's honour ; but fortunately I 
 was able to prove clearly and decisively that those sus- 
 picions were unfounded, and I did so. The joy of 
 M. d'Orleans upon finding he had been deceived was 
 great indeed ; and when we separated from him after 
 mid-day, in order to go to dinner, I saw that a point 
 was gained. 
 
 A little before three o'clock I returned to M. 
 d'Orleans, whom I found alone in his cabinet with 
 Besons. He received me with pleasure, and made me 
 seat mvself between him and the Marechal, whom he
 
 Saint-Simon 289 
 
 complimented upon his diligence. Our conversation 
 re-commenced. I returned to the attack with all the 
 arguments I could muster, and the Marechal supported 
 me ; but I saw with affright that M. d'Orleans was less 
 reduced than when we had quitted him in the morning, 
 and that he had sadly taken breath during our short 
 absence. I saw that, if we were to succeed, we must 
 make the best use we could of our time, and accord- 
 ingly I brought all my powers into play in order to 
 gain over M. d'Orleans. 
 
 Feeling that everything was now to be lost or 
 gained, I spoke out with all the force of which I was 
 capable, surprising and terrifying Marechal Besons to 
 such a point, with my hardihood, that he had not a 
 word to say in order to aid me. When I had finished, 
 M. d'Orleans thanked me in a piteous tone, by which 
 I knew the profound impression I had made upon his 
 mind. I proposed, while he was still shaken, that he 
 should at once send to Madame de Maintenon, to know 
 when she would grant him an audience ; for he had 
 determined to speak to her first of his intention to give 
 up Madame d'Argenton. Besons seconded me ; and 
 while we were talking together, not daring to push our 
 point farther, M. d'Orleans much astonished us by ris- 
 ing, running with impetuosity to the door, and calling 
 aloud for his servants. One ran to him, whom he 
 ordered in a whisper to go to Madame de Maintenon, 
 to ask at what hour she w 7 ould see him on the morrow. 
 He returned immediately, and threw himself into a 
 chair like a man whose strength fails him and who is 
 at his last gasp. Uncertain as to what he had just 
 done, I asked him if he had sent to Madame de Mainte- 
 VOL. II. 19
 
 290 Memoirs of 
 
 non. " Yes, Monsieur," said he, in a tone of despair. 
 Instantly I started towards him, and thanked him with 
 all the contentment and all the joy imaginable. This 
 terrible interview, for the struggle we had all gone 
 through was very great, was soon after brought to a 
 close, and Besons and myself went our way, congrat- 
 ulating each other on the success of this day's labour. 
 
 On the next day, Friday, the 3rd of January, I saw 
 M. d'Orleans as he preceded the King to mass, and in 
 my impatience I approached him, and speaking in a 
 low tone, asked him if he had seen " that woman." I 
 did not dare to mention names just then. He replied 
 " yes," but in so lackadaisical a tone that I feared he 
 had seen her to effect, and I asked him if he had spoken 
 to her. Upon receiving another " yes," like the other, 
 my emotion redoubled. " But have you told her all ? " 
 I said. " Yes," he replied, " I have told her all." 
 " And are you content? " said I. " Nobody could be 
 more so," he replied ; " I was nearly an hour with her, 
 she was very much surprised and ravished." 
 
 I saw M. d'Orleans under better circumstances at 
 another period of the day, and then I learnt from him 
 that since meeting me he had spoken to the King also, 
 and told him all. " Ah, Monsieur," cried I with trans- 
 port, " how I love you! " and advancing warmly tow- 
 ards him, I added, " How glad I am to see you at last 
 delivered ; how did you bring this to pass? " " I mis- 
 trusted myself so much," replied he, >; and was so vio- 
 lently agitated after speaking to Madame de Main- 
 tenon, that I feared to run the risk of pausing all the 
 morning; so, immediately after mass 1 spoke to the 
 King, and " here, overcome by his grief, his voice fal-
 
 Saint-Simon , 291 
 
 tered, and he burst into sighs, into tears, and into sobs. 
 I retired into a corner. A moment after Besons en- 
 tered : the spectacle and the profound silence aston- 
 ished him. He lowered his eyes, and advanced but 
 little. At last we gently approached each other. I 
 told him that M. d'Orleans had conquered himself, and 
 had spoken to the King. The Marechal was so bewil- 
 dered with surprise and joy that he remained for some 
 moments speechless and motionless: then running 
 towards M. d'Orleans, he thanked him, felicitated him, 
 and wept for very joy. M. d'Orleans was cruelly agi- 
 tated, now maintaining a ferocious silence, and now 
 bursting into a torrent of sighs, sobs, and tears. He 
 said at last that Madame de Maintenon had been ex- 
 tremely surprised with the resolution he had taken, 
 and at the same time delighted. She assured him that 
 it would put him on better terms than ever with the 
 King, and that Madame d'Argenton should be treated 
 with every consideration. I pressed M. d'Orleans to 
 let us know how the King had received him. He 
 replied that the King had appeared very much sur- 
 prised, but had spoken coldly. I comforted him for 
 this disappointment by assuring him that the King's 
 coldness arose only from his astonishment, and that in 
 the end all would be well. 
 
 It would be impossible to describe the joy felt by 
 Besons and myself at seeing our labours brought to 
 this satisfactory point. I knew I should make many 
 enemies when the part I had taken in influencing M. 
 d'Orleans to give up Madame d'Argenton came to be 
 known, as it necessarily would ; but I felt I had done 
 rightly, and left the consequences to Providence.
 
 292 Memoirs of 
 
 Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans showed me the utmost 
 gratitude for what I had done. She exhibited, too, so 
 much intelligence, good sense, and ability, in the con- 
 versation I had with her, that I determined to spare 
 no pains to unite her husband to her more closely ; 
 being firmly persuaded that he would nowhere find a 
 better counsellor than in her. The surprise of the 
 whole Court, when it became known that M. d'Orleans 
 had at last separated himself from Madame d'Argen- 
 ton, was great indeed. It was only equalled by the 
 vexation of those who were opposed to him. Of 
 course in this matter I was not spared. For several 
 days nothing was spoken of but this rupture, and 
 everywhere I was pointed out as the author of it, 
 Besons being scarcely alluded to. I parried the 
 thrust made at me as well as I could, as much for the 
 purpose of leaving all the honour to M. d'Orleans, as 
 for the purpose of avoiding the anger of those who 
 were annoyed with me ; and also from a just fear of 
 showing that I had too much influence over the mind 
 of a Prince not without faults, and who could not 
 always be led. 
 
 As for Madame d'Argenton, she received the news 
 that her reign was over with all the consternation, rage, 
 and despair that might have been expected. Madem- 
 oiselle de Chausseraye was sent by Madame de 
 Maintenon to announce the ill news to her. When 
 Mademoiselle de Chausseraye arrived at Madame 
 d'Argenton's house, Madame d'Argenton was out : she 
 had gone to supper with the Princesse de Rohan. 
 Mademoiselle de Chausseraye waited until she re- 
 turned, and then broke the matter to her gently, and
 
 Saint-Simon 293 
 
 after much preamble and circumlocution, as though 
 she were about to announce the death of some one. 
 The tears, the cries, the bowlings of Madame d'Argen- 
 ton filled the house, and announced to all the domestics 
 that the reign of felicity was at an end there. After a 
 long silence on the part of Mademoiselle de Chausser- 
 aye, she spoke her best in order to appease the poor lady. 
 She represented to her the delicacy and liberality of the 
 arrangements M. d'Orleans had made in her behalf. 
 In the first place she was free to live in any part of the 
 realm except Paris and its appanages. In the next 
 place he assured to her forty-five thousand livres a 
 year, nearly all the capital of which would belong to the 
 son he had had by her, whom he had recognised and 
 made legitimate, and who has since become Grandee 
 of Spain, Grand Prieur of France, and General of the 
 Galleys (for the best of all conditions in France is to 
 have none at all, and to be a bastard). Lastly he un- 
 dertook to pay all her debts up to the day of the 
 rupture, so that she should not be importuned by any 
 creditor, and allowed her to retain her jewellery, her 
 plate, her furniture worth altogether about four hun- 
 dred thousand livres. His liberality amounted to a 
 total of about two million livres, which I thought 
 prodigious. 
 
 Madame d'Argenton, in despair at first, became 
 more tractable as she learnt the provisions which had 
 been made for her, and the delicacy with which she 
 was treated. She remained four days in Paris, and 
 then returned to her father's house near Port-Sainte- 
 Maxence, the Chevalier d'Orleans, her son, remaining 
 at the Palais Royale. The King after his first surprise
 
 294 Memoirs of 
 
 had worn away, was in the greatest joy at the rupture ; 
 and testified his gratification to M. d'Orleans, whom 
 he treated better and better every day. Madame de 
 Maintenon did not dare not to contribute a little at 
 first; and in this the Prince felt the friendship of the 
 Jesuits, whom he had contrived to attach to him. The 
 Duchesse de Bourgogne did marvels of her own ac- 
 cord ; and the Due de Bourgogne, also, being urged by 
 M. de Beauvilliers. Monseigneur alone remained irri- 
 tated, on account of the Spanish affair. 
 
 I must here mention the death of M. le Due. He 
 was engaged in a trial which was just about to be 
 pleaded. He had for some time suffered from a 
 strange disease, a mixture of apoplexy and epilepsy, 
 which he concealed so carefully, that he drove away 
 one of his servants for speaking of it to his fellows. 
 For some time he had had a continual headache. This 
 state troubled the gladness he felt at being delivered 
 from his troublesome father and brother-in-law. One 
 evening he was riding in his carriage, returning from 
 a visit to the Hotel de Coislin, without torches, and 
 with only one servant behind, when he felt so ill that he 
 drew the string, and made his lackey get up to tell 
 him whether his mouth was not all on one side. This 
 was not the case, but he soon lost speech and con- 
 sciousness after having requested to be taken in pri- 
 vately to the Hotel de Conde. They there put him in 
 bed. Priests and doctors came. But he only made 
 horrible faces, and died about four o'clock in the 
 morning. 
 
 Madame la Duchesse did not lose her presence of 
 mind, and, whilst her husband was dying, took steps
 
 Saint-Simon 295 
 
 to secure her future fortune. Meanwhile she managed 
 to cry a little, but nobody believed in her grief. As 
 for M. le Due, I have already mentioned some anec- 
 dotes of him that exhibit his cruel character. He was 
 a marvellously little man, short, without being fat. A 
 dwarf of Aladame la Princesse was said to be the cause. 
 He was of a livid yellow, nearly always looked furious, 
 and was ever so proud, so audacious, that it was diffi- 
 cult to get used to him. His cruelty and ferocity were 
 so extreme that people avoided him, and his pretended 
 friends would not invite him to join in any merriment. 
 They avoided him : he ran after them to escape from 
 solitude, and would sometimes burst upon them during 
 their jovial repasts, reproach them with turning a cold 
 shoulder to him, and change their merriment to desola- 
 tion. 
 
 After the death of M. le Due, a grand discussion on 
 precedence at the After-suppers, set on foot by the 
 proud Duchesse d'Orleans, was. after an elaborate ex- 
 amination by the King, brought to a close. The King 
 ordered his determination to be kept secret until he 
 formally declared it. It is necessary to set forth in a 
 few words the mechanism of the After-suppers every 
 day. The King, on leaving table, stopped less than a 
 half-quarter of an hour with his back leaning against 
 the balustrade of his chamber. He there found in a 
 circle all the ladies who had been at his supper, and 
 who came there to wait for him a little before he left 
 table, except the ladies who sat, who came out after 
 him, and who, in the suite of the Princes and the Prin- 
 cesses who had supped with him, advanced one by one 
 and made him a courtesy, and filled up the remainder
 
 296 Saint-Simon 
 
 of the standing circle; for a space was always left for 
 them by the other ladies. The men stood behind. The 
 King amused himself by observing the dresses, the 
 countenances, and the gracefulness of the ladies' cour- 
 tesies, said a word to the Princes and Princesses who 
 had supped with him, and who closed the circle near 
 him on either hand, then bowed to the ladies on right 
 and left, bowed once or twice more as he went away, 
 with a grace and majesty unparalleled, spoke some- 
 times, but very rarely, to some lady in passing, entered 
 the first cabinet, where he gave the order, and then ad- 
 vanced to the second cabinet, the doors from the first 
 to the second always remaining open. There he placed 
 himself in a fauteuil, Monsieur, while he was there, in 
 another; the Duchesse de Bourgogne, Madame (but 
 only after the death of Monsieur), the Duchesse de 
 Berry (after her marriage), the three bastard-daugh- 
 ters, and Madame du Maine (when she was at Ver- 
 sailles), on stools on each side. Monseigneur, the Due 
 de Bourgogne, the Due de Berry, the Due d'Orleans, 
 the two bastards, M. le Due (as the husband of Madame 
 la Duchesse), and afterwards the two sons of M. du 
 Maine, when they had grown a little, and D'Antin, 
 came afterwards, all standing. It was the object of 
 the Duchesse d'Orleans to change this order, and make 
 her daughters take precedence of the w r ives of the 
 Princes of the blood; but the King declared against 
 her. When he made the public announcement of his 
 decision, the Due d'Orleans took the opportunity of al- 
 luding to a marriage which would console him for 
 everything. " I should think so," replied the King, 
 dryly, and with a bitter and mocking smile.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Proposed Marriage of Mademoiselle My Intrigues to Bring 
 It About The Duchesse de Bourgogne and Other Allies 
 The Attack Begun Progress of the Intrigue Economy at 
 Marly The Marriage Agreed Upon Scene at Saint Cloud 
 Horrible Reports The Marriage Madame de Saint-Simon 
 Strange Character of the Duchesse de Berry. 
 
 IT was the desire of the Due and Duchesse d'Orleans 
 to marry Mademoiselle (their daughter) to the Due 
 de Berry (third son of Monseigneur, and consequently 
 brother of the Due de Bourgogne and of the King of 
 Spain). There were many obstacles in the way partly 
 the state of public affairs partly the fact that the King, 
 though seemingly, was not really quite reconciled 
 partly the recollection o-f that cruel ban mot in Spain 
 partly the fact that Monseigneur would naturally object 
 to marry his favourite son with the daughter of a man 
 towards whom he always testified hatred in the most 
 indecent manner. The recent union between Madame 
 de Maintenon, Mademoiselle Choin, and Monseigneur 
 was also a great obstacle. In fact after what M. le 
 Due d'Orleans had been accused of in Spain, with his 
 abilities and talents it seemed dangerous to make him 
 the father-in-law of M. le Due de Berry. 
 
 For my part I passionately desired the marriage of 
 297
 
 298 Memoirs of 
 
 Mademoiselle, although I saw that all tended to the 
 marriage of Mademoiselle de Bourbon, daughter of 
 Madame la Duchesse, in her place. I had many rea- 
 sons, private and public, for acting against the latter 
 marriage; but it was clear that unless very vigorous 
 steps were taken it would fall like a mill-stone upon 
 my head, crush me, and wound the persons to whom I 
 was attached. M. le Due d'Orleans and Madame la 
 Duchesse d'Orleans were immersed in the deepest in- 
 dolence. They desired, but did not act. I went to 
 them and explained the state of the case pointed out 
 the danger of Madame la Duchesse excited their 
 pride, their jealousy, their spite. Will it be believed 
 that it was necessary to put all this machinery in mo- 
 tion? At last, by working on them by the most power- 
 ful motives, I made them attend to their own interests. 
 The natural but extreme laziness of the Duchesse d'Or- 
 leans gave way this time, but less to ambition than to 
 the desire of defeating a sister who was so inimical to 
 her. We next concerted how we should make use of 
 M. d'Orleans himself. 
 
 That Prince, with all his wit and his passion for Mad- 
 emoiselle- which had never weakened since her birth 
 was like a motionless beam, which stirred only in 
 obedience to our redoubled efforts, and who remained 
 so to the conclusion of this great business. I often re- 
 flected on the causes of this incredible conduct; and 
 was led to suppose that the knowledge of the irremedi- 
 able nature of what had taken place in Spain was the 
 rein that restrained him. However this may have been, 
 I was throughout obliged to use main force to bring 
 him to activity. I determined to form and direct a
 
 Saint-Simon 299 
 
 powerful cabal in order to bring my views to pass. The 
 first person of whom it was necessary to make sure was 
 the Duchesse de Bourgogne. That Princess had 
 many reasons for the preference of Mademoiselle over 
 Mademoiselle de Bourbon (daughter of Madame la Du- 
 chesse). She knew the King perfectly; and could not 
 be ignorant of the power of novelty over his mind, of 
 which power she had herself made a happy experiment. 
 \Yhat she had to fear was another herself I mean a 
 Princess on the same terms with the King as she was, 
 who, being younger than she, would amuse him by 
 new childish playfulness no longer suited to her age, 
 and yet which she (the Duchess) was still obliged to em- 
 ploy. The very contrast of her own untimely childish- 
 ness, with a childishness so much more natural, would 
 injure her. The new favourite would, moreover, not 
 have a husband to support; for the Due de Berry was 
 already well liked. The Due de Bourgogne, on the 
 contrary, since the affair of Flanders, had fallen into 
 disgrace with his father, Monseigneur; and his scru- 
 ples, his preciseness, his retired life, devoted to literal 
 compliance with the rules of devotion, contrasted un- 
 favourably with the free life of his younger brother. 
 
 The present and the future whatever was important 
 in life were therefore at stake with Madame la Du- 
 chesse de Bourgogne; and yet her great duty to her- 
 self was perpetually in danger of being stifled by the 
 fictitious and petty duties of daily life. It was neces- 
 sary to stimulate her. She felt these things in general; 
 and that it was necessary that her sister-in-law should 
 be a Princess, neither able nor willing to give her 
 umbrage, and over whom she should be mistress. But
 
 300 Memoirs of 
 
 in spite of her wit and sense, she was not capable of 
 feeling in a sufficiently lively manner of herself all the 
 importance of these things, amidst the effervescence of 
 her youth, the occupation of her successive duties, the 
 private and general favour she seemed to enjoy, the 
 greatness of a rank in expectation of a throne, the round 
 of amusements which dissipated her mind and her days: 
 gentle, light, easy perhaps too easy. I felt, however, 
 that from the effect of these considerations upon her I 
 should derive the greatest assistance, on account of the 
 influence she could exert upon the King, and still more 
 on Madame de Maintenon, both of whom loved her 
 exceedingly; and I felt all that the Duchesse d'Orleans 
 would have neither the grace nor the fire necessary to 
 stick it in deep enough on account of her great in- 
 terest in the matter. 
 
 I influenced the Duchesse de Villeroy and Madame 
 de Levi, who could work on the Duchess, and also 
 Madame d'O ; obtained the indirect assistance of M. du 
 Maine and by representing to the Dues de Chevreuse, 
 and de Beauvilliers, that if M. de Berry married Mad- 
 emoiselle de Bourbon, hatred would arise between him 
 and his brother, and great danger to the state, enlisted 
 them also on my side. I knew that the Due de Berry 
 was a fort that could only be carried by mine and as- 
 sault. Working still further, I obtained the concur- 
 rence of the Jesuits; and made the Pere de Trevoux 
 our partisan. Nothing is indifferent to the Jesuits. 
 They became a powerful instrument. As a last ally 
 I obtained the co-operation of the Marechal cle Bouf- 
 flers. Such were the machines that my friendship for 
 those to whom I was attached, mv hatred for Madame
 
 Saint-Simon 301 
 
 la Duchesse, my care of my present and future situa- 
 tion, enabled me to discover, to set going, with an ex- 
 act and compassed movement, a precise agreement, and 
 the strength of a lever which the space of one Lent 
 commenced and perfected all whose movements, em- 
 barrassments, and progress in their divers lines I knew; 
 and which I regularly wound up in reciprocal cadence 
 every day! 
 
 Towards the end of the Lent, the Duchesse de Bour- 
 gogne. having sounded the King and Madame de Main- 
 tenon, had found the latter well disposed, and the for- 
 mer without any particular objection. One day that 
 Mademoiselle had been taken to see the King at the 
 apartments of Madame de Maintenon, where Mon- 
 seigneur happened to be, the Duchesse de Bourgogne 
 praised her, and when she had gone away, ventured, 
 with that freedom and that predetermined impulsive- 
 ness and gaiety which she sometimes made use of, to 
 say: " What an excellent wife for M. le Due de Berry! " 
 This expression made Monseigneur redden with anger, 
 and exclaim, " that would be an excellent method of 
 recompensing the Due d'Orleans for his conduct in 
 Spain ! " When he had said these words he hastily left 
 the company, all very much astonished ; for no one ex- 
 pected a person seemingly so indifferent and so meas- 
 ured to come out so strongly. The Duchesse de Bour- 
 gogne, who had only spoken so to feel the way with 
 Monseigneur in presence of the King, was bold and 
 clever to the end. Turning with a bewildered look 
 towards Madame de Maintenon, " My Aunt," quoth 
 she to her, "have I said something foolish?" The 
 King, piqued, answered for Madame de Maintenon, and
 
 302 Memoirs of 
 
 said, warmly, that if Madame la Duchesse was working 
 upon Monseigneur she would have to deal with him. 
 Madame de Maintenon adroitly envenomed the matter 
 by wondering at a vivacity so uncommon with Mon- 
 seigneur, and said that if Madame la Duchesse had that 
 much of influence, she would soon make him do other 
 things of more consequence. The conversation, inter- 
 rupted in various ways and renewed, advanced with 
 emotion, and in the midst of reflections that did more 
 injury to Mademoiselle de Bourbon than the friendship 
 of Monseigneur for Madame la Duchesse could serve 
 her. 
 
 When I learned this adventure, I saw that it was 
 necessary to attack Monseigneur by piquing the King 
 against Madame la Duchesse, and making him fear 
 the influence of that Princess on Monseigneur and 
 through Monseigneur on himself; that no opportunity 
 should be lost to impress on the King the fear of being 
 governed and kept in pupilage by his children; that it 
 was equally important to frighten Madame de Main- 
 tenon, and show her the danger she was in from the 
 influence of Monseigneur. I worked on the fears of 
 the Duchesse de Bourgogne, by Madame de Villeroy 
 and de Levi; on the Due de Bourgogne, by M. de Beau- 
 villiers; on Madame de Maintenon, by the Marechal de 
 Boufflers; on the King himself, by the Perc Tellier; 
 and all these batteries succeeded. 
 
 In order not to hurry matters too much, I took a 
 turn to La Ferte, and then came back to Marly just 
 as the King arrived. Here I had a little alarm, which 
 did not, however, discourage me. I learned, in fact, 
 that one day the Duchesse de Bourgogne, urged per-
 
 Saint-Simon 303 
 
 haps rather too much on the subject of Mademoiselle 
 by Madame d'O, and somewhat annoyed, had shown 
 an inclination for a foreign marriage. Would to God 
 that such a marriage could have been brought about! 
 I should always have preferred it, but there were many 
 reasons to render it impossible. 
 
 On my arrival at Marly, I found everything in trouble 
 there: the King so chagrined that he could not hide 
 it although usually a master of himself and of his 
 face: the Court believing that some new disaster had 
 happened which would unwillingly be declared. Four 
 or five days passed in this way: at last it became known 
 what was in the wind. The King, informed that Paris 
 and all the public were murmuring loudly about the 
 expenses of Marly at a time when it was impossible 
 to meet the most indispensable claims of a necessary 
 and unfortunate war was more annoyed this time than 
 on any other occasion, although he had often received 
 the same warnings. Madame de Maintenon had the 
 greatest difficulty to hinder him from returning straight 
 to Versailles. The upshot was that the King declared 
 with a sort of bitter joy, that he would no longer feed 
 the ladies at Marly; that for the future he would dine 
 alone, simply, as at Versailles; that he would sup every 
 clay at a table for sixteen with his family, and that the 
 spare places should be occupied by ladies invited in 
 the morning; that the Princesses of his family should 
 each have a table for the ladies they brought with them; 
 and that Madames Voysin and Desmarets should each 
 have one for the ladies who did not choose to eat in 
 their own rooms. He added bitterly, that by making 
 retrenchments at Marly he should not spend more there
 
 304 Memoirs of 
 
 than at Versailles, so that he could go there when he 
 pleased without being exposed to the blame of any one. 
 He deceived himself from one end of this business to 
 the other, but nobody but himself was deceived, if in- 
 deed he was in any other way but in expecting to de- 
 ceive the world. The truth is, that no change was 
 made at Marly, except in name. The same expenses 
 went on. The enemies insultingly ridiculed these re- 
 trenchments. The King's subjects did not cease to 
 complain. 
 
 About this time an invitation to Marly having been 
 obtained by Madame la Duchesse for her daughters, 
 Mademoiselles de Bourbon and de Charolois, the King 
 offered one to Mademoiselle. This offer was discussed 
 before the Due and Duchesse d'Orleans and me. We 
 at last resolved to leave Mademoiselle at Versailles; and 
 not to be troubled by seeing Mademoiselle de Bourbon 
 passing her clays in the same salon, often at the same 
 play-table with the Due de Berry, making herself ad- 
 mired by the Court, fluttering round Monseigneur, and 
 accustoming the eye of the King to her. We knew that 
 these trifles would not bring about a marriage; and it 
 was still more important not to give up Mademoiselle 
 to the malignity of the Court, to exposure, and com- 
 plaints, from which it might not always be possible to 
 protect her. 
 
 But I had felt that it was necessary to act vigorously, 
 and pressed the Due d'Orleans to speak to the King. 
 To my surprise he suddenly heaped up objections, de- 
 rived from the public disasters, with which a princely 
 marriage would contrast disagreeably. The Duchesse 
 d'Orleans was strangely staggered by this admission;
 
 Saint-Simon 305 
 
 it only angered me. I answered by repeating all my 
 arguments. At last he gave way, and agreed to write 
 to the King. Here, again, I had many difficulties to 
 overcome, and was obliged, in fact, to write the letter 
 myself, and dictate it to him. He made one or two 
 changes; and at last signed and sealed it. But I had 
 the greatest difficulty yet in inciting him to give it to 
 the King. I had to follow him, to urge him, to pique 
 him, almost to push him into the presence. The King 
 received the letter very graciously; it had its effect; and 
 the marriage was resolved on. 
 
 When the preliminaries were settled, the Due and 
 Duchesse d'Orleans began to show their desire that 
 Madame de Saint-Simon should be lady of honour to 
 their daughter when she had become the Duchesse de 
 Berry. I was far from flattered by this distinction, and 
 refused as best I might. Madame de Saint-Simon went 
 to have an audience of the Duchesse de Bourgogne, 
 and asked not to be appointed; but her objections were 
 not listened to, or listened to with astonishment. Mean- 
 while I endeavoured to bring about a reconciliation of 
 the Due d'Orleans with La Choin; but utterly failed. 
 La Choin positively refused to have anything to do 
 with the Duke and Duchess. I was much embarrassed 
 to communicate this news to them, to whom I was at- 
 tached. It was necessary, however, to do so. I has- 
 tened to Saint-Cloud, and found the Due and Duchesse 
 d'Orleans at table with Mademoiselle and some ladies 
 in a most delightful menagerie, adjoining the railing of 
 the avenue near the village, with a charming pleasure- 
 garden attached to it. All this belonged, under the 
 name of Mademoiselle, to Madame de Mare, her gov- 
 
 VOL. II. 20
 
 306 Memoirs of 
 
 erness. I sat down and chatted with them; but the 
 impatience of the Due d'Orleans to learn the news could 
 not be checked. lie asked me if I was very satisfied. 
 " Middling," I replied, not to spoil his dinner; but he 
 rose at once and took me into the garden. lie was 
 much affected to hear of the ill-success of my negotia- 
 tion; and returned downcast to table. I took the first 
 opportunity to biame his impatience, and the facility 
 with which he allowed the impressions he received to 
 appear. Always in extreme, he said he cared not; and 
 talked wildly of planting cabbages talk in which he 
 indulged often without meaning anything. 
 
 Soon after, M. le Due d'Orleans went aside with Mad- 
 emoiselle, and I found myself placed accidentally near 
 Madame de Fontaine-Martel. She was a great friend 
 of mine, and much attached to M. d'Orleans; and it 
 was by her means that I had become friendly with the 
 Duke. She felt at once that something was going on; 
 and did not doubt that the marriage of Mademoiselle 
 was on the carpet. She said so, but I did not answer, 
 yet without assuming an air of reserve that would have 
 convinced her. Taking her text from the presence of 
 M. le Due d'Orleans with Mademoiselle, she said to 
 me confidentially, that it would be well to hasten this 
 marriage if it was possible, because all sorts of horrible 
 things were invented to prevent it; and without waiting 
 to be too much pressed, she told me that the most 
 abominable stories were in circulation as to the friend- 
 ship of father and daughter. The hair of my head stood 
 on end. I now felt more heavily than ever with what 
 demons we had to do; and how necessary it was to 
 hurrv on matters. For this reason, after we had walked
 
 Saint-Simon 307 
 
 about a good deal after dark, I again spoke with M. 
 d'Orleans, and told him that if, before the end of this 
 voyage to Marly, he did not carry the declaration of 
 his daughter's marriage, it would never take place. 
 
 I persuaded him; and left him more animated and 
 encouraged than I had seen him. He amused himself 
 I know not in what other part of the house. I then 
 talked a little with Madame de Mare, my relation and 
 friend, until I was told that Madame de Fontaine-Martel 
 wished to speak to me in the chateau. When I went 
 there I was taken to the cabinet of the Duchesse d'Or- 
 leans, when I learnt that she had just been made ac- 
 quainted with the abominable reports spread against her 
 husband and daughter. We deplored together the mis- 
 fortune of having to do with such furies. The Duch- 
 ess protested that there was not even any seeming 
 in favour of these calumnies. The Duke had ever ten- 
 derly loved his daughter from the age of two years, 
 when he was nearly driven to despair by a serious ill- 
 ness she had, during which he watched her night and 
 day; and this tenderness had gone on increasing day 
 by day, so that he loved her more than his son. We 
 agreed that it would be cruel, wicked, and dangerous 
 to tell M. d'Orleans what was said. 
 
 At length the decisive blow was struck. The King 
 had an interview with Monseigneur; and told him he 
 had determined on the marriage, begging him to make 
 up his mind as soon as possible. The declaration \vas 
 soon made. What must have been the state of Ma- 
 dame la Duchesse! I never knew what took place in 
 her house at this strange moment; and would have 
 dearly paid for a hiding-place behind the tapestry. As
 
 308 Memoirs of 
 
 for Monseigneur, as soon as his original repugnance 
 was overcome, and he saw that it was necessary to com- 
 ply, he behaved very well. He received the Due and 
 Duchesse d'Orleans very well, and kissed her and drank 
 their health and that of all the family cheerfully. They 
 were extremely delighted and surprised. 
 
 My next visit to Saint-Cloud was very different from 
 that in which I reported the failure of my endeavours 
 with Mademoiselle Choin. I was received in triumph 
 before a large company. To my surprise, Mademoi- 
 selle, as soon as I appeared, ran towards me, kissed me 
 on both checks, took me by the hand, and led me into 
 the orangery. Then she thanked me, and admitted 
 that her father had constantly kept her acquainted with 
 all the negotiations as they went on. I could not help 
 blaming his easiness and imprudence. She mingled all 
 with testimonies of the most lively joy; and I was sur- 
 prised by her grace, her eloquence, the dignity and 
 the propriety of the terms she used. I learned an im- 
 mense number of things in this half-hour's conversa- 
 tion. Afterwards Mademoiselle took the opportunity 
 to say and do all manner of graceful things to Madame 
 de Saint-Simon. 
 
 The Duchesse d'Orleans now returned once more to 
 the charge, in order to persuade my wife to be dame 
 d'honneur to her daughter. I refused as firmly as I 
 could. But soon after the King himself named Ma- 
 dame de Saint-Simon; and when the Duchesse de Bour- 
 gngnc suggested a doubt of her acceptance, exclaimed, 
 almost piqued: "Refuse! O no! not when she learns 
 that it is my desire." In fact, I soon received so many 
 menacing warnings that I was obliged to give in; and
 
 Saint-Simon 309 
 
 Madame de Saint-Simon received the appointment. 
 This was made publicly known by the King, who up 
 to that very morning remained doubtful whether he 
 would be met by a refusal or not; and who, as he was 
 about to speak, looked at me with a smile that was 
 meant to please and warn me to be silent. Madame 
 de Saint-Simon learned the news with tears. She was 
 excellently well received by the King, and compliment- 
 ed agreeably by Madame de Maintenon. 
 
 The marriage took place with the usual ceremonies. 
 The Due de Beauvilliers and Madame de Saint-Simon 
 drew the curtains of the couple when they went to 
 bed ; and laughed together at being thus employed. 
 The King, who had given a very mediocre present of 
 diamonds to the new Duchesse de Berry, gave nothing 
 to the Due de Berry. The latter had so little money 
 that he could not play during the first days of the 
 voyage to Marly. The Duchesse de Bourgogne told 
 this to the King, who, feeling the state in which he 
 himself was, said that he had only five hundred pistoles 
 to give him. He gave them with an excuse on the 
 misfortunes of the time, because the Duchesse de Bour- 
 gogne thought with reason that a little was better than 
 nothing, and that it was insufferable not to be able to 
 play. 
 
 Madame de Mare was now set at liberty. The place 
 of Dame d'Atours was offered to her; but she advanced 
 many reasons for not accepting it, and on being pressed, 
 refused with an obstinacy that surprised every one. 
 We were not long in finding out the cause of her ob- 
 stinate unwillingness to remain with Madame la Du- 
 chesse de Berrv. The more that Princess allowed
 
 310 Saint-Simon 
 
 people to see what she was and she never concealed 
 herself the more we saw that Madame de Mare was 
 in the right; and the more we admired the miracle of 
 care and prudence which had prevented anything from 
 coming to light; and the more we felt how blindly peo- 
 ple act in what they desire with the most eagerness, and 
 achieve with much trouble and much joy; and the more 
 we deplored having succeeded in an affair which, so 
 far from having undertaken and carried out as I did, 
 I should have traversed with still greater zeal, even if 
 Mademoiselle de Bourbon had profited thereby without 
 knowing it, if I had known half a quarter what do I 
 say? the thousandth part of what we unhappily wit- 
 nessed! I shall say no more for the present; and as I 
 go on, I shall only say what cannot be concealed; and 
 I say thus much so soon merely because the strange 
 things that soon happened began to develop themselves 
 a little during this first voyage to Marly.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Birth of Louis XV. The Marechale de la Meilleraye Saint- 
 Ruth's Cudgel The Cardinal de Bouillon's Desertion from 
 France Anecdotes of His Audacity. 
 
 OX Saturday, the I5th of February, the King was 
 waked up at seven o'clock in the morning, an 
 hour earlier than usual, because Madame la Duchesse 
 de Bourgogne was in the pains of labour. He dressed 
 himself diligently in order to go to her. She did not 
 keep him waiting long. At three minutes and three 
 seconds after eight o'clock, she brought into the world 
 a Due d'Anjou, who is the King Louis XV., at pres- 
 ent reigning, which caused a great joy. This Prince 
 was soon after sprinkled by Cardinal de Janson in the 
 chamber where he was born, and then carried upon the 
 knees of the Duchesse de Yentadour in the sedan chair 
 of the King into the King's apartments, accompanied 
 by the Marechal de Boufflers and by the body-guards 
 with officers. A little while after La Yrilliere carried 
 to him the cordon bleu, and all the Court went to see 
 him, two things which much displeased his brother, 
 who did not scruple to show it. Madame de Saint- 
 Simon, who was in the chamber of Madame la Dau- 
 
 3"
 
 312 Memoirs of 
 
 phinc, was by chance one of the first who saw this new- 
 born Prince. The accouchement passed over very 
 well. 
 
 About this time died the Marechale de la Meilleraye, 
 aged eighty-eight years. She was the paternal aunt of 
 the Marechal de Villeroy and the Due de Brissac, his 
 brother-in-law. It was she who unwittingly put that 
 cap on MM. de Brissac, which they have ever since 
 worn in their arms, and which has been imitated. She 
 was walking in a picture gallery of her ancestors one 
 day with her niece, a lively, merry person, whom she 
 obliged to salute and be polite to each portrait, an'd 
 who in pleasant revenge persuaded her that one of the 
 said portraits wore a cap which proved him to be an 
 Italian Prince. She swallowed this, and had the cap 
 introduced into her arms, despite her family, who are 
 now obliged to keep it, but who always call it, " My 
 Aunt's cap." On another occasion, people were speak- 
 ing in her presence of the death of the Chevalier de 
 Savoie, brother of the Comte de Soissons, and of the 
 famous Prince Eugene, who died very young, very 
 suddenly, very debauched, and full of benefices. The 
 talk became religious. She listened some time, and 
 then, with a profound look of conviction, said : " For 
 my part, I am persuaded that God will think twice 
 about damning a man of such high birth as that ! " 
 This caused a burst of laughter, but nothing could 
 make her change her opinion. Her vanity was cruelly 
 punished. She used to affect to apologise for having 
 married the Marechal de la Meilleraye. After his 
 death, being in love with Saint-Ruth, her page, she 
 married him ; but took care not to disclose her mar-
 
 Saint-Simon 313 
 
 riage for fear of losing her distinction at Court. 
 Saint-Ruth was a very honourable gentleman, very 
 poor, tall, and well made, whom everybody knew ; ex- 
 tremely ugly I don't know whether he became so 
 after his marriage. He was a worthy man and a good 
 soldier. But he was also a rough customer, and when 
 his distinguished wife annoyed him he twirled his 
 cudgel and belaboured her soundly. This went so far 
 that the Marechale, not being able to stand it any 
 longer, demanded an audience of the King, admitted 
 her weakness and her shame, and implored his protec- 
 tion. The King kindly promised to set matters to 
 rights. He soundly rated Saint-Ruth in his cabinet, 
 and forbade him to ill-treat the Marechale. But what 
 is bred in the bone will never get out of the flesh. The 
 Marechale came to make fresh complaints. The King 
 grew angry in earnest, and threatened Saint-Ruth. 
 This kept him quiet for some time. But the habit of 
 the stick was too powerful ; and he flourished it again. 
 The Marechale flew as usual to the King, who, seeing 
 that Saint-Ruth was incorrigible, was good enough to 
 send him to Guyenne under pretence of employment. 
 Afterwards he was sent to Ireland, where he was killed. 
 The Marechale de la Meilleraye had been perfectly 
 beautiful, and was full of wit. She so turned the head 
 of the Cardinal de Retz, that he wanted to turn every- 
 thing topsy-turvy in France, in order to make himself 
 a necessary man and force the King to use his influence 
 at Rome in order to obtain a dispensation by which he 
 (the Cardinal) should be allowed, though a priest and a 
 consecrated bishop, to marry the Marechale de la 
 Meilleraye while her husband was alive and she on very
 
 314 Memoirs of 
 
 good terms with him ! This madness is inconceivable 
 and yet existed. 
 
 I have described in its place the disgrace of Cardinal 
 de Bouillon, and the banishment to which he was 
 sentenced. Exile did not improve him. He lan- 
 guished in weariness and rage, and saw no hope that 
 his position would ever change. Incapable of repose, 
 he had passed all his long enforced leisure in a monastic 
 war. The monks of Cluni were his antagonists. He 
 was constantly bringing actions against them, which 
 they as constantly defended. He accused them of re- 
 volt they accused him of scheming. They profited by 
 his disgrace, and omitted nothing to shake off the yoke 
 which, when in favour, he had imposed upon them. 
 These broils went on, until at last a suit, which Car- 
 dinal de Bouillon had commenced against the refrac- 
 tory monks, and which had been carried into the grand 
 Council of Paris, was decided against him, notwith- 
 standing all the efforts he made to obtain a contrary 
 verdict. This was the last drop which made the too 
 full cup overflow, and which consummated the resolu- 
 tion that Cardinal had long since had in his head, and 
 which he now executed. 
 
 By the terms of his exile, he was allowed to visit, 
 without restraint, his various abbeys, situated in dif- 
 ferent parts of the realm. He took advantage of this 
 privilege, gave out that he was going to Normandy, but 
 instead of doing so, posted away to Picardy, stopped 
 briefly at Abbeville, gained Arras, where he had the 
 Abbey of Saint-Waast, thence feigning to go and see 
 his abbey of Vigogne, he passed over into the camp of 
 the enemy, and threw himself into the arms of the
 
 Saint-Simon 315 
 
 Duke of Marlborough and Prince Eugene. The 
 Prince d'Auvergne, his nephew, had deserted from 
 France in a similar manner some time before, as I 
 have related in its place, and was in waiting to receive 
 the Cardinal, who was also very graciously welcomed 
 by Prince Eugene and the Duke of Marlborough, who 
 introduced him to the heads of the army, and lavished 
 upon him the greatest honours. 
 
 Such a change of condition appeared very sweet to 
 this spirit so haughty and so ulcerated, and marvel- 
 lously inflated the Cardinal's courage. He recom- 
 pensed his dear hosts by discourses, which were the 
 most agreeable to them, upon the misery of France 
 (which his frequent journeys through the provinces had 
 placed before his eyes), upon its powerlessness to sus- 
 tain the war; upon the discontent which reigned 
 among the people ; upon the exhaustion of the 
 finances ; in fine, he spared nothing that perfidy or in- 
 gratitude could suggest to flatter them and gain their 
 favour. 
 
 No sooner had the Cardinal had time to turn round 
 among his new friends than he wrote a letter to the 
 King announcing his flight a letter which was such a 
 monstrous production of insolence, of madness, of 
 felony, and which was written in a style so extravagant 
 and confused that it deserves to be thus specially 
 alluded to. In this letter, as full of absurdities, impu- 
 dence, and of madness, as of words, the Cardinal, while 
 pretending much devotion for the King, and much 
 submission to the Church, plainly intimated that he 
 cared for neither. Although this was as the sting of a 
 gnat upon an elephant, the King was horribly piqued
 
 316 Memoirs of 
 
 at it. He received the letter on the 24th of May, gave 
 it the next day to D'Aguesseau, attorney-general, and 
 ordered him to commence a suit against Cardinal de 
 Bouillon, as guilty of felony. At the same time the 
 King wrote to Rome, enclosing a copy of Bouillon's 
 letter, so that it might be laid before the Pope. This 
 letter received little approbation. People considered 
 that the King had forgotten his dignity in writing it, it 
 seemed so much like a justification and so little worthy 
 of a great monarch. As for the Cardinal de Bouillon, 
 he grew more haughty than ever. He wrote a letter 
 upon the subject of this trial with which he was threat- 
 ened, even more violent than his previous letter, and 
 proclaimed that cardinals were not in any way amena- 
 ble to secular justice, and could not be judged except 
 by the Pope and all the sacred college. 
 
 So in fact it seemed to be ; for although the Parlia- 
 ment commenced the trial, and issued an order of 
 arrest against the Cardinal, they soon found them- 
 selves stopped by difficulties which arose, and by this 
 immunity of the cardinals, which was supported by 
 many examples. After all the fuss made, therefore, 
 this cause fell by its own weakness, and exhaled itself, so 
 to speak, in insensible perspiration. A fine lesson this 
 for the most powerful princes, and calculated to teach 
 them that if they want to be served by Rome they 
 should favour those that are there, instead of raising 
 their own subjects, who, out of Rome, can be of no 
 service to the State, and who are good only to seize 
 three or four hundred thousand livres a year in bene- 
 fices, with the quarter of which an Italian would be 
 more than recompensed. A French cardinal in
 
 Saint-Simon 317 
 
 France is the friend of the Pope, but the enemy of the 
 King, the Church, and the State ; a tyrant very often to 
 the clergy and the ministers, at liberty to do what he 
 likes without ever being punished for anything. 
 
 As nothing could be clone in this way against the 
 Cardinal, other steps were taken. The fraudulent 
 " Genealogical History of the House of Auvergne," 
 which I have previously alluded to, was suppressed by 
 royal edict, and orders given that all the copies of it 
 should be seized. Baluze, who had written it, was de- 
 prived of his chair of Professor of the Royal College, 
 and driven out of the realm. A large quantity of 
 copies of this edict were printed and publicly dis- 
 tributed. The little patrimony that Cardinal de Bouil- 
 lon had not been able to carry away, was immediately 
 confiscated : the temporality of his benefices had been 
 already seized, and on the 7th of July appeared a decla- 
 ration from the King, which, depriving the Cardinal of 
 all his advowsons, distributed them to the bishops of 
 the dioceses in which those advowsons were situated. 
 
 These blows were very sensibly felt by the other 
 Bouillons, but it was no time for complaint. The Car- 
 dinal himself became more enraged than ever. Even 
 up to this time he had kept so little within bounds that 
 he had pontifically officiated in the church of Tournai 
 at the Tc Dcmn for the taking of Douai (by the 
 enemies) ; and from that town (Tournai), where he had 
 fixed his residence, he wrote a long letter to M. de 
 Beauvais, bishop of the place, when it yielded, and who 
 would not sing the Tc Dcmn, exhorting him to return 
 to Tournai and submit to the new rule. Some time 
 after this, that is to sav, towards the end of the vear,
 
 318 Saint-Simon 
 
 he was guilty of even greater presumption. The 
 Abbey of Saint- Arnaud, in Flanders, had just been 
 given by the King to Cardinal La Tremoille, who had 
 been confirmed in his possession by bulls from the 
 Pope. Since then the abbey had fallen into the power 
 of the enemy. Upon this, Cardinal de Bouillon caused 
 himself to be elected Abbot by a minority of the monks 
 and in spite of the opposition of the others. It was 
 curious to see this dutiful son of Rome, who had de- 
 clared in his letter to the King, that he thought of 
 nothing except the dignity of the King, and how he 
 could best serve God and the Church, thus elect himself 
 in spite of the bulls of the Pope, in spite of the orders 
 of the King, and enjoy by force the revenues of the 
 abbey, protected solely by heretics ! 
 
 But I have in the above recital alluded to the taking 
 of Douai : this reminds me that I have got to speak 
 of our military movements, our losses, and our vic- 
 tories, of this year. In Flanders and in Spain they 
 were of some importance, and had better, perhaps, 
 have a chapter or more to themselves.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Imprudence of Villars The Danger of Truthfulness Mili- 
 tary Mistakes The Fortunes of Berwick The Son of 
 James Berwick's Report on the Army Imprudent Saying 
 of Villars " The Good Little Fellow " in a Scrape What 
 Happens to Him. 
 
 THE King, who had made numberless promotions, 
 appointed this year the same generals to the 
 same armies. YiHars was chosen for Flanders, as 
 before. Having arrived at the very summit of favour, 
 he thought he might venture, for the first time in his 
 life, to bring a few truths before the King. He did 
 nothing then but represent to the ministers, nay, even 
 to the King and Madame de Maintenon themselves, 
 the wretched state of our magazines and our garrisons ; 
 the utter absence of all provision for the campaign, and 
 the piteous condition of the troops and their officers, 
 without money and without pay. This was new lan- 
 guage in the mouth of Villars, who hitherto had owed 
 all his success to the smiling, rose-tinted account he 
 had given of everything. It was the frequency and the 
 hardihood of his falsehoods in this respect that made 
 the King and Madame de Maintenon look upon him 
 as their sole resource ; for he never said anything dis- 
 
 319
 
 320 Memoirs of 
 
 agreeable, and never found difficulties anywhere. 
 Now that he had raised this fatal curtain, the aspect ap- 
 peared so hideous to them, that they found it easier to 
 fly into a rage than to reply. From that moment they 
 began to regard Villars with other eyes. Finding that 
 he spoke now the language which everybody spoke, 
 they began to look upon him as the world had always 
 looked upon him. to find him ridiculous, silly, impu- 
 dent, lying, insupportable ; to reproach themselves 
 with having elevated him from nothing, so rapidly and 
 so enormously ; they began to shun him, to put him 
 aside, to make him perceive what they thought, and to 
 let others perceive it also. 
 
 Villars in his turn was frightened. He saw the pros- 
 pect of losing \vhat he had gained, and of sinking into 
 hopeless disgrace. With the effrontery that was nat- 
 ural to him, he returned therefore to his usual flat- 
 teries, artifices, and deceits ; laughed at all dangers and 
 inconveniences, as having resources in himself against 
 everything! The coarseness of this variation was as 
 plain as possible ; but the difficulty of choosing another 
 general was equally plain, and Villars thus got out of 
 the quagmire. He set forth for the frontier, therefore, 
 in his coach, and travelling easy stages, on account of 
 his wound, arrived in due time at the army. 
 
 Neither Prince Eugene nor the Duke of Marlbor- 
 ough wished for peace ; their object was, the first, from 
 personal vengeance against the King, and a desire to 
 obtain a still greater reputation ; the second, to get 
 rich, for ambition was the prominent passion of one, 
 and avarice of the other their object was, I say, to 
 enter France, and, profiting by the extreme weakness
 
 Saint-Simon 321 
 
 and straitened state of our troops and of our places, to 
 push their conquests as far as possible. 
 
 As for the King, stung by his continual losses, he 
 wished passionately for nothing so much as a victory, 
 which should disturb the plans of the enemies, and de- 
 liver him from the necessity of continuing the sad and 
 shameful negotiations for peace he had set on foot at 
 Gertruydemberg. But the enemies were well posted, 
 and Yillars had imprudently lost a good opportunity 
 of engaging them. All the army had noticed this 
 fault; he had been warned in time by several general 
 officers, and by the Marechal de Montesquieu, but he 
 would not believe them. He did not dare to attack the 
 enemies, now, after having left them leisure to make 
 all their dispositions. The army cried aloud against 
 so capital a fault. Yillars answered with his usual 
 effrontery. He had quarrelled with his second in com- 
 mand, the Marechal de Montesquieu, and now knew 
 not what to do. 
 
 In this crisis, no engagement taking place, the King 
 thought it fitting to send Berwick into Flanders to act 
 as mediator, even, to some extent, as dictator to the 
 army. He was ordered to bring back an account of all 
 things, so that it might be seen whether a battle could 
 or could not be fought. 
 
 I think I have already stated who Berwick was ; but 
 I will here add a few more words about him to signalise 
 his prodigious and rapid advancement. 
 
 We were in the golden age of bastards, and Berwick 
 
 was a man who had reason to think so. Bastard of 
 
 James II., of England, he had arrived in France, at the 
 
 age of eighteen, with that monarch, after the Revolu- 
 
 VOL. II. 21
 
 322 
 
 Memoirs of 
 
 tion of 1688. At twenty-two he was made lieutenant- 
 general, and served as such in Flanders, without hav- 
 ing passed through any other rank. At thirty-three 
 he commanded in chief in Spain with a patent of gen- 
 eral. At thirty-four he was made, on account of his 
 victory at Almanza, Grandee of Spain, and Chevalier 
 of the Golden Fleece. He continued to command in 
 chief until February, 1706, when he was made Mar- 
 shal of France, being then not more than thirty-six 
 years old. He was an English Duke, and although 
 as such he had no rank in France, the King had awarded 
 it to him, as to all who came over with James. This 
 was making a rapid fortune with a vengeance, under 
 a King who regarded people of thirty-odd as children, 
 but who thought no more of the ages of bastards than 
 of those of the gods. 
 
 For more than a year past Berwick had coveted to 
 be made Duke and Peer. But he could not obtain his 
 wish. Now, however, that he was to be sent into 
 Flanders for the purpose I have just described, it 
 seemed a good opportunity to try again. He did try, 
 and was successful. He was made Duke and Peer. He 
 had been twice married. By his first wife he had had a 
 son. By his second several sons and daughters. Will 
 it be believed that he was hardy enough to propose, 
 and that we were weak enough to accord to him, that 
 his son of the first bed should be formally excluded 
 from the letters-patent of Duke and Peer, and that 
 those of the second bed should alone be entered there? 
 Yet so it was. Berwick was, in respect to England, 
 like the Jews who await the Messiah. He coaxed 
 himself always with the hope of a revolution in Eng-
 
 Saint-Simon 323 
 
 land, which should put the Stuarts on the throne again, 
 and reinstate him in his wealth and honours. He was 
 son of the sister of the Duke of Marlborough, by which 
 general he was much loved, and with whom, by per- 
 mission of the King, and of King James, he kept up a 
 secret intercourse, of which all three were the dupes, 
 but which enabled Berwick to maintain other inter- 
 courses in England, and to establish his batteries there, 
 hoping thus for his reinstatement even under the gov- 
 ernment established. This explains his motive for 
 the arrangement he made in the letters-patent. He 
 wished his eldest son to succeed to his English duke- 
 dom and his English estates ; to make the second Duke 
 and Peer of France, and the third Grandee of Spain. 
 Three sons hereditarily elevated to the three chief dig- 
 nities of the three chief realms in Europe, it must be 
 agreed was not bad \vork for a man to have achieved 
 at fifty years of age! But Berwick failed in his Eng- 
 lish projects. Do what he could all his life to court the 
 various ministers who came from England, he never 
 could succeed in re-establishing himself. 
 
 The scandal was great at the complaisance of the 
 King in consenting to a family arrangement, by which 
 a cadet was put over the head of his elder brother ; but 
 the time of the monsters had arrived. Berwick bought 
 an estate that he created under the name of Fits-James. 
 The King, \vho allowed him to do so, was shocked by 
 the name; and, in my presence, asked Berwick the 
 meaning of it ; he, without any embarrassment, thus 
 explained it : 
 
 The King of England, in legitimatising their chil- 
 dren, gave them a name and arms, which pass to
 
 324 Memoirs of 
 
 their posterity. The name varies. Thus the Duke of 
 Richmond, bastard of Charles II., had the name of 
 " Lennox ; " the Dukes of Cleveland and of Grafton, 
 by the same king, that of " Fitz-Roi," which means 
 " son of the king; " in fine, the Duke of Berwick had the 
 name of " Fitz- James ; " so that his family name for his 
 posterity is thus " Son of James ; " as a name, it is so ri- 
 diculous in French, that nobody could help laughing at 
 it, or being astonished at the scandal of imposing it in 
 English upon France. 
 
 Berwick having thus obtained his recompense be- 
 forehand, started off for Flanders, but not until he 
 had seen everything signed and sealed and delivered in 
 due form. He found the enemy so advantageously 
 placed, and so well prepared, that he had no difficulty 
 in subscribing to the common opinion of the general 
 officers, that an attack could no longer be thought of. 
 He gathered up all the opinions he could, and then 
 returned to Court, having been only about three weeks 
 absent. His report dismayed the King, and those 
 who penetrated it. Letters from the army soon 
 showed the fault of which Villars had been guilty, and 
 everybody revolted against this wordy bully. 
 
 He soon after was the subject of common talk at the 
 Court, and in the army, in consequence of a ridiculous 
 adventure, in which he was the hero. His wound, or 
 the airs that he gave himself in consequence of it, often 
 forced him to hold his leg upon the neck of his horse, 
 almost in the same manner as ladies do. One day, he 
 let slip the remark that he was sick to death of mount- 
 ing on horseback like those " harlots " in the suite of 
 Madame de Bourgogne. Those " harlots," I will
 
 Saint-Simon 325 
 
 observe parenthetically, were all the young ladies of 
 the Court, and the daughters of Madame la Duchesse ! 
 Such a remark uttered by a general not much loved, 
 speedily flew from one end of the camp to the other, 
 and was not long in making its way to the Court and to 
 Paris. The young horsewomen alluded to were 
 offended; their friends took up arms for them, and 
 Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne could not help 
 showing irritation, or avoid complaining. 
 
 Yillars was apprised of all, and was much troubled by 
 this increase of enemies so redoubtable, of whom just 
 then he assuredly had no need. He took it into his 
 head to try and discover who had blabbed ; and found 
 it was Heudicourt, whom Yillars, to advance his own 
 interests, by means of Heudicourt's mother (who was 
 the evil genius of Madame de Maintenon), had pro- 
 tected ; and to whom even, much against his custom, he 
 had actually not lent, but given money. 
 
 This Heudicourt (whom I have previously alluded 
 to, a propos of a song he wrote), was a merry wag, who 
 excelled in making fun of people, in highly-seasoned 
 pleasantry, and in comic songs. Spoiled by the favour 
 which had always sustained him, he gave full licence 
 to his tongue, and by this audacity had rendered himself 
 redoubtable. He was a scurrilous wretch, a great 
 drunkard, and a debauchee ; not at all cowardly, and 
 with a face hideous as that of an ugly satyr. He was 
 not insensible to this ; and so, unfitted for intrigues 
 himself, he assisted others in them, and, by this honest 
 trade, had acquired many friends amongst the flower of 
 the courtiers of both sexes above all with the ladies. 
 Bv wav of contrast to his wickedness, he was called
 
 326 Memoirs of 
 
 " the good little fellow ; " and " the good little fellow " 
 was mixed up in all intrigues ; the ladies of the Court 
 positively struggled for him ; and not one of them, 
 even of the highest ranks, would have dared to fall out 
 with him. Thus protected, he was rather an embar- 
 rassing customer for Marechal de Villars, who, never- 
 theless, falling back as usual upon his effrontery, hit 
 upon a bright project to bring home to Heudicourt the 
 expedient he had against him. 
 
 He collected together about fifteen general officers, 
 and Heudicourt with them. When they had all 
 arrived, he left his chamber, and went to them. A 
 number of loiterers had gathered round. This was 
 just what Villars wanted. He asked all the officers in 
 turn, if they remembered hearing him utter the ex- 
 pression attributed to him. Albergotti said he remem- 
 bered to have heard Villars apply the term " harlots " 
 to the suttlers and the camp creatures, but never to any 
 other woman. All the rest followed in the same track. 
 Then Villars, after letting out against this frightful cal- 
 umny, and against the impostor who had written and 
 sent it to the Court, addressed himself to Heudicourt, 
 whom he treated in the most cruel fashion. :< The 
 good little fellow " was strangely taken aback, and 
 wished to defend himself; but Villars produced proofs 
 that could not be contradicted. Thereupon the ill- 
 favoured dog avowed his turpitude, and had the audac- 
 ity to approach Villars in order to speak low to him ; 
 but the Marechal, drawing back, and repelling him 
 with an air of indignation, said to him aloud, that with 
 scoundrels like him he wished for no privacy. Gather- 
 ing up his pluck at this, Heudicourt gave rein to all his
 
 Saint-Simon 327 
 
 impudence, and declared that they who had been ques- 
 tioned had not dared to own the truth for fear of 
 offending the Marechal ; that as for himself he might 
 have been wrong in speaking and writing about it, but 
 he had not imagined that words said before such a 
 numerous company, and in such a public place, could 
 remain secret, or that he had done more harm in writ- 
 ing about them than so many others who had acted 
 likewise. 
 
 The Marechal, outraged upon hearing so bold and 
 so truthful a reply, let out with greater violence than 
 ever against Heudicourt, accused him of ingratitude 
 and villainy, drove him away, and a few minutes after 
 had him arrested and conducted as a prisoner to the 
 chateau at Calais. This violent scene made as much 
 stir at the Court and in the army as that which had 
 caused it. The consistent and public conduct of 
 Villars was much approved. The King declared that he 
 left Heudicourt in his hands : Madame de Maintenon 
 and Madame de Bourgogne, that they abandoned him : 
 and his friends avowed that his fault was inexcusable. 
 But the tide soon turned. After the first hubbub, the 
 excuse of " the good little fellow " appeared excellent 
 to the ladies who had their reasons for liking him and 
 for fearing to irritate him ; and also to the army, where 
 the Marechal was not liked. Several of the officers 
 who had been publicly interrogated by Yillars, now 
 admitted that they had been taken by surprise, and had 
 not wished to compromise themselves. It was even, 
 going into base details, argued that the Marechal's ex- 
 pression could not apply to the vivandieres and the 
 other camp women, as they always rode astride, one leg
 
 328 Saint-Simon 
 
 on this side one leg on the other, like men, a manner 
 very different from that of the ladies of Madame de 
 Bourgogne. People contested the power of a general 
 to deal out justice upon his inferiors for personal mat- 
 ters in which the service was in no wise concerned ; in 
 a word, Heudicourt was soon let out of Calais, and 
 remained " the good little fellow " in fashion in spite of 
 the Marechal, who, tormented by so many things this 
 campaign, sought for and obtained permission to go 
 and take the waters ; and did so. He was succeeded 
 by Harcourt, who was himself in weak health. Thus 
 one cripple replaced another. One began, the other 
 ended, at Bourbonne. 
 
 Douai, Saint-Yenant, and Aire fell into the hands 
 of the enemy during this campaign, who thus gained 
 upon us more and more, while we did little or nothing. 
 This was the last campaign in Flanders of the Duke 
 of Marlborough. On the Rhine our troops observed 
 and subsisted : nothing more ; but in Spain there was 
 more movement, and I will therefore turn my glances 
 towards that country, and relate what took place there.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Duchesse de Berry Drunk Operations in Spain Vendome 
 Demanded by Spain His Affront by the Duchesse de Bour- 
 gogne His Arrival Staremberg and Stanhope The Flag 
 of Spain Leaves Madrid Entry of the Archduke Enthusi- 
 asm of the Spaniards The King Returns Strategy of 
 Staremberg Affair of Brighuega Battle of Villaviciosa 
 Its Consequences to Vendome and to Spain. 
 
 BEFORE I commence speaking of the affairs of 
 Spain, let me pass lightly over an event which, 
 engrafted upon some others, made much noise, not- 
 withstanding the care taken to stifle it. 
 
 Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne supped at Saint- 
 Cloud one evening with Madame la Duchesse de Berry 
 and others Madame de Saint-Simon absenting her- 
 self from the party. Madame la Duchesse de Berry 
 and M. d'Orleans but she more than he got so 
 drunk, that Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans, Madame 
 la Duchesse de Bourgogne, and the rest of the numer- 
 ous company there assembled, knew not what to do. 
 M. le Due de Berry was there, and him they talked 
 over as well as they could ; and the numerous company 
 was amused by the Grand Duchess as well as she 
 was able. The effect of the wine, in more ways than 
 one, was such, that people were troubled. In spite of 
 
 329
 
 330 Memoris of 
 
 all, the Duchesse de Berry could not be sobered, so 
 that it became necessary to carry her, drunk as she 
 was, to Versailles. All the servants saw her state, and 
 did not keep it to themselves ; nevertheless, it was hid- 
 den from the King, from Monseigneur, and from Ma- 
 dame de Maintenon. 
 
 And now, having related this incident, let me turn 
 to Spain. 
 
 The events which took place in that country were 
 so important, that I have thought it best to relate them 
 in a continuous narrative without interruption. We 
 must go back to the commencement of the year, and 
 remember the dangerous state which Spain was thrown 
 into, delivered up to her own weakness, France being 
 too feeble to defend her ; finding it difficult enough, in 
 fact, to defend herself, and willing to abandon her ally 
 entirely in the hope by this means to obtain peace. 
 
 Towards the end of March the King of Spain set out 
 from Madrid to put himself at the head of his army in 
 Aragon. Villadarias, one of his best and oldest gen- 
 eral officers, was chosen to command under him. The 
 King of Spain went from Saragossa to Lerida, where 
 he was received with acclamations by the people and 
 his army. He crossed the Segre on the I4th of May, 
 and advanced towards Balaguier, designing to lay 
 siege to it. But heavy rains falling and causing the 
 waters to rise, he was obliged to abandon his project. 
 Joined a month afterwards by troops arrived from 
 Flanders, he sought to attack the enemy, but was 
 obliged to content himself for the moment by scouring 
 the country, and taking some little towns where the 
 Archduke had established stores. All this time the
 
 Saint-Simon 331 
 
 Count of Staremberg, who commanded the forces of 
 the Archduke, was ill ; this circumstance the King of 
 Spain was profiting by. But the Count grew well 
 again quicker than was expected ; promptly assembled 
 his forces ; marched against the army of the King of 
 Spain ; engaged it, and obliged it, all astonished, to 
 retire under Saragossa. This ill-success fell entirely on 
 Yilladarias, who was accused of imprudence and neg- 
 ligence. The King of Spain was desperately in want of 
 generals, and M. de Vendome, knowing this, and sick- 
 to death of banishment, had asked some little time 
 before to be allowed to offer his services. At first he 
 was snubbed. But the King of Spain, who eagerly 
 wished for M. de Vendome, despatched a courier, after 
 this defeat, begging the King to allow him to come 
 and take command. The King held out no longer. 
 
 The Due de Vendome had prepared everything in 
 advance ; and having got over a slight attack of gout, 
 hastened to Versailles. M. du Maine had negotiated 
 with Madame de Maintenon to obtain permission to 
 take Vendome to the Duchesse de Bourgogne. The 
 opportunity seemed favourable to them. Vendome 
 was going to Spain to serve the brother and sister of 
 the Duchess ; and his departure without seeing her 
 would have had a very disagreeable effect. The Due 
 du Maine, followed by Vendome, came then that day 
 to the toilette of the Duchesse de Bourgogne. There 
 happened that there was a very large company of men 
 and ladies. The Duchess rose for them, as she always 
 did for the Princes of the blood and others, and for all 
 the Dukes and Duchesses, and sat down again as usual ; 
 but after this first glance, w r hich could not be refused,
 
 33 2 Memoirs of 
 
 she, though usually very talkative and accustomed to 
 look round, became for once attentive to her adorn- 
 ment, fixed her eyes on her mirror, and spoke no more 
 to any one. M. du Maine, with M. de Vendome stuck 
 by his side, remained very disconcerted ; and M. du 
 Maine, usually so free and easy, dared not utter a 
 single word. Nobody went near them or spoke to 
 them. They remained thus about half a quarter of 
 an hour, with an universal silence throughout the 
 chamber all eyes being fixed on them ; and not being 
 able to stand this any longer, slunk away. This re- 
 ception was not sufficiently agreeable to induce Yen- 
 dome to pay his respects at parting ; for it would have 
 been more embarrassing still if, when according to 
 custom he advanced to kiss the Duchesse de Bour- 
 gogne, she had given him the unheard-of affront of a 
 refusal. As for the Due de Bourgogne, he received 
 Vendome tolerably politely, that is to say, much too 
 well. 
 
 Staremberg meanwhile profited by the advantage he 
 had gained ; he attacked the Spanish army under Sara- 
 gossa and totally defeated it. Artillery, baggage, all 
 was lost ; and the rout was complete. This misfortune 
 happened on the 2Oth of August. The King, who had 
 witnessed it from Saragossa, immediately afterwards 
 took the road for Madrid. Bay, one of his generals, 
 gathered together eighteen thousand men, with whom 
 he retired to Tudela, without any impediment on the 
 part of the enemy. 
 
 M. de Yendome learnt the news of this defeat while 
 on his way to Spain. Like a prudent man as he was, 
 for his own interests, he stopped at once so as to see
 
 Saint-Simon 333 
 
 what turn affairs were taking, and to know how to act. 
 He waited at Bayonne, gaining time there by sending 
 a courier to the King for instructions how to act, and 
 remaining until the reply came. After its arrival he 
 set out to continue his journey, and joined the King 
 of Spain at Valladolid. 
 
 Staremberg, after his victory, was joined by the 
 Archduke, and a debate soon took place as to the 
 steps next to be taken. Staremberg was for giving 
 battle to the army of eighteen thousand men under 
 Bay, which I have just alluded to, beating it, and then 
 advancing little by little into Spain, to make head 
 against the vanquished army of the King. Had this 
 advice been acted on, it could scarcely have failed to 
 ruin the King of Spain, and the whole country must 
 have fallen into the hands of the enemy. But it was 
 not acted on. Stanhope, who commanded the Eng- 
 lish and Dutch troops, said that his Queen had ordered 
 him to march upon Madrid when possible, in prefer- 
 ence to every other place. He therefore proposed 
 that they should go straight to Madrid with the Arch- 
 duke, proclaim him King there, and thus terrify all 
 Spain by seizing the capital. Staremberg, who ad- 
 mitted that the project was dazzling, sustained, how- 
 ever, that it was of little use, and of great clanger. He 
 tried all in his power to shake the inflexibility of Stan- 
 hope, but in vain, and at last was obliged to yield as 
 being the feebler of the two. The time lost in this 
 dispute saved the wreck of the army which had just 
 been defeated. "What was afterwards done saved the 
 King of Spain. 
 
 When the plan of the allies became known, however,
 
 334 Memoirs of 
 
 the consternation at Madrid, which was already great, 
 was extreme. The King resolved to withdraw from a 
 place which could not defend itself, and to carry away 
 with him the Queen, the Prince, and the Councils. 
 The grandees declared that they would follow the 
 King and his fortune everywhere, and very few failed 
 to do so ; the departure succeeded the declaration in 
 twenty-four hours. The Queen, holding the Prince 
 in her arms, at a balcony of the palace, spoke to the 
 people assembled beneath, with so much grace, force, 
 and courage, that the success she had is incredible. 
 The impression that the people received was communi- 
 cated everywhere, and soon gained all the provinces. 
 The Court thus left Madrid for the second time in the 
 midst of the most lamentable cries, uttered from the 
 bottom of their hearts, by people who came from town 
 and country, and who so wished to follow the King 
 and Queen that considerable effort was required in 
 order to induce them to return, each one to his home. 
 Valladolid was the retreat of this wretched Court, 
 which in the most terrible trouble it had yet experi- 
 enced, lost neither judgment nor courage. Mean- 
 while the grandest and rarest example of attachment 
 and of courage that had ever been heard of or seen 
 was seen in Spain. Prelates and the humblest of the 
 clergy, noblemen and the poorest people, lawyers and 
 artisans all bled themselves of the last drop of their 
 substance, in order to form new troops and magazines, 
 and to provide all kinds of provisions for the Court, 
 and those who had followed it. Never nation made 
 more efforts so surprising with a unanimity and a 
 concert which acted everywhere at once. The Queen
 
 Saint-Simon 335 
 
 sold off all she possessed, received with her own hands 
 sometimes even as little as ten pistoles, in order to 
 content the zeal of those who brought, and thanked 
 them with as much affection as they themselves dis- 
 played. She would continually say that she should 
 like to put herself at the head of her troops, with her 
 son in her arms. With this language and her conduct, 
 she gained all hearts, and was very useful in such a 
 strange extremity. 
 
 The Archduke meanwhile arrived in Madrid with 
 his army. He entered there in triumph, and caused 
 himself to be proclaimed King of Spain, by the vio- 
 lence of his troops, who dragged the trembling Cor- 
 regidor through the streets, which for the most part 
 were deserted, whilst the majority of the houses were 
 without inhabitants, the few who remained having 
 barricaded their doors and windows, and shut them- 
 selves up in the most remote places, where the troops 
 did not dare to break in upon them, for fear of increas- 
 ing the visible and general despair, and in the hope of 
 gaining by gentleness. The entry of the Archduke 
 was not less sad than his proclamation. A few scarcely 
 audible and feeble acclamations were heard, but were 
 so forced that the Archduke, sensibly astonished, made 
 them cease of himself. He did not dare to lodge in 
 the palace, or in the centre of Madrid, but slept at the 
 extremity of the city, and even there only for two or 
 three nights. Scarcely any damage was inflicted upon 
 the town. Staremberg was careful to gain over the 
 inhabitants by conciliation and clemency ; yet his army 
 perished of all kinds of misery. Not a single person 
 could be found to supply it with subsistence for man
 
 336 Memoirs of 
 
 or beast not even when offered money. Prayers, 
 menaces, executions, all were perfectly useless. There 
 was not a Castilian who would not have believed him- 
 self dishonoured in selling the least thing to the ene- 
 mies, or in allowing them to take it. It is thus that 
 this magnanimous people, without any other help than 
 their courage and their fidelity, sustained themselves 
 in the midst of their enemies, whose army they caused 
 to perish, while at the same time, by inconceivable 
 prodigies, they formed a new army for themselves, 
 perfectly equipped and furnished, and put thus,, by 
 themselves, alone, and for the second time, the crown 
 upon the head of their King, with a glory for ever an 
 example to all the people of Europe ; so true it is that 
 nothing approaches the strength which is found in the 
 heart of a nation for the succour and re-establishment 
 of kings !* 
 
 Stanhope, who had not failed to see the excellence of 
 Staremberg's advice from the first moment of their 
 dispute, now said insolently, that having executed the 
 orders of his Queen, it was for Staremberg to draw the 
 army out of its embarrassment. As for himself, he 
 had nothing more to do in the matter! When ten or 
 twelve days had elapsed, it \vas resolved to remove 
 from Madrid towards Toledo. From the former place 
 nothing was taken away, except some of the King's 
 tapestry, which Stanhope was not ashamed to carry oft", 
 but which he did not long keep. This act of meanness 
 
 * This is a wiser observation, perhaps, than Saint-Simon thought. 
 Human nature is too apt to attribute its degradation to external vio- 
 lence, and to forget that the strongest allies of those that enslave it are 
 found within its own breast.
 
 Saint-Simon 337 
 
 was blamed even by his own countrymen.* Starem- 
 berg did not make a long stay at Toledo, but in quitting 
 the town, burnt the superb palace in the Moorish style 
 that Charles Quint had built there, and that was called 
 the Alcazar. This was an irreparable damage, which 
 he made believe happened accidentally. 
 
 As nothing now hindered the King of Spain from 
 going to see his faithful subjects at Madrid, he entered 
 that city on the 2nd of December, in the midst of an 
 infinite crowd and incredible acclamations. He de- 
 scended at the church of Xotre Dame d'Atocha, and 
 was three hours in arriving at the palace, so prodigious 
 was the crowd. The city made a present to him of 
 twenty thousand pistoles. On the fourth day after his 
 arrival at Madrid, the King left, in order to join M. de 
 Yendome and his army. 
 
 But a little while before, this monarch was a fugitive 
 wanderer, almost entirely destroyed, without troops, 
 without money, and without subsistence. Xow he 
 found himself at the head of ten or fifteen thousand 
 men well armed, well clad, well paid, with provisions, 
 money, and ammunition in abundance ; and this magi- 
 cal change was brought about by the sudden universal 
 conspiracy of the unshakable fidelity and attachment 
 without example, of all the orders of his subjects ; by 
 their efforts and their industry, as prodigious the one 
 as the other. 
 
 Yendome, in the utmost surprise at a change so little 
 
 * It would be unjust not to notice here, accepting Saint-Simon's state- 
 ment of facts, that the French always indignantly point out the gathering 
 of art-booty by English and other generals; but can find nothing save 
 words of praise for the immense spoliations of this kind which they have 
 themselves committed. 
 
 VOL. II. 22
 
 338 Memoirs of 
 
 to be hoped for, wished to profit by it by joining the 
 army under Bay, which was too weak itself to appear 
 before Staremberg. Vendome accordingly set about 
 making this junction, which Staremberg thought only 
 how to hinder. He knew well the Due de Vendome. 
 In Savoy he had gained many a march upon him ; had 
 passed five rivers in front of him ; and in spite of him 
 had led his troops to M. de Savoie. Staremberg 
 thought only therefore in what manner he could lay a 
 trap for M. de Vendome, in which he, with his army, 
 might fall and break his neck without hope of escape. 
 With this view he put his army into quarters, access to 
 which was easy everywhere, which were near each 
 other, and which could assist each other in case of 
 need, lie then placed all his English and Dutch, Stan- 
 hope at their head, in Brighuega, a little fortified town 
 in good condition for defence. It was at the head of 
 all the quarters of Staremberg's army, and at the en- 
 trance of a plain over which M. de Vendome had to 
 pass to join Bay. 
 
 Staremberg was on the point of being joined by his 
 army of Estremadura, so that in the event of M. de 
 Vendome attacking Brighuega, as he hoped, he had a 
 large number of troops to depend upon. 
 
 Vendome, meanwhile, set out on his march. He 
 was informed of Staremberg's position, but in a man- 
 ner just such as Staremberg wished; that is to say, he 
 was led to believe that Stanhope had made a wrong 
 move in occupying Brighuega, that he was too far re- 
 moved from Staremberg to receive any assistance from 
 him, and that he could be easily overpowered. That is 
 how matters appeared to Vendome. He hastened his
 
 Saint-Simon 339 
 
 march, therefore, made his dispositions, and on the 8th 
 of December, after mid-day, approached Brighuega, 
 called upon it to surrender, and upon its refusal, pre- 
 pared to attack it. 
 
 Immediately afterwards his surprise was great, upon 
 discovering that there were so many troops in the town, 
 and that instead of having to do with a mere outpost, 
 he was engaged against a place of some consequence. 
 He did not wish to retire, and perhaps he could not 
 have done so with impunity. He set to, therefore, 
 storming in his usual manner, and did what he could 
 to excite his troops to make short work of a conquest 
 so different from what he had imagined, and so dan- 
 gerous to delay. 
 
 Nevertheless, the weight of his mistake pressed upon 
 him as the hours passed and he saw fresh enemies ar- 
 rive. Two of his assaults had failed : he determined 
 to play at double or quits, and ordered a third assault. 
 While the dispositions were being made, on the 9th of 
 December he learnt that Staremberg was marching 
 against him with four or five thousand men, that is to 
 say, with just about half of what he really led. In this 
 anguish, Vendome did not hesitate to stake even the 
 Crown of Spain upon the hazard of the die. His third 
 attack was made with all the force of which he was 
 capable. Every one of the assailants knew the ex- 
 tremity of the danger, and behaved with so much 
 valour and impetuosity, that the town was carried in 
 spite of an obstinate resistance. The besieged were 
 obliged to yield, and to the number of eight battalions 
 and eight squadrons, surrendered themselves prison- 
 ers of war, and with them, Stanhope, their general,
 
 34-Q Memoirs of 
 
 who so triumphant in Madrid, was here obliged to 
 disgorge the King's tapestries that he had taken from 
 the palace. 
 
 While the capitulation was being made, various in- 
 formation came to Vendome of Staremberg's march, 
 which it was necessary, above all, to hide from the 
 prisoners, who, had they known their liberator was 
 only a league and a half distant from them, as he was 
 then, would have broken the capitulation, and defended 
 themselves. M. de Vendome's embarrassment was 
 great. He had, at the same time, to march out 
 and meet Staremberg and to get rid of his numerous 
 prisoners. All was done, however, very successfully. 
 Sufficient troops were left in Brighuega to attend to 
 the evacuation, and when it was at an end, those troops 
 left the place themselves and joined their comrades, 
 who, with M. de Vendome, were waiting for Starem- 
 berg outside the town, at Villaviciosa, a little place 
 that afterwards gave its name to the battle. Only four 
 hundred men were left in Brighuega. 
 
 M. de Vendome arranged his army in order of battle 
 in a tolerably open plain, but embarrassed by little 
 knolls in several places, very disadvantageous for the 
 cavalry. Immediately afterwards the cannon began 
 to fire on both sides, and almost immediately the two 
 lines of the King of Spain prepared to charge. After 
 the battle had proceeded some time, M. de Vendome 
 perceived that his centre began to give way, and that 
 the left of his cavalry could not break the right of the 
 enemies'. He thought all was lost, and gave orders 
 accordingly to his men to retire towards Torija. 
 Straightway, too, he directed himself in that direction,
 
 Saint-Simon 341 
 
 with the King of Spain and a good part of his troops. 
 While thus retreating, he learnt that two of his offi- 
 cers had charged the enemy's infantry with the cav- 
 alry they had at their orders, had much knocked it 
 about, and had rendered themselves masters, on the 
 field of battle, of a large number of prisoners, and of 
 the artillery that the enemy had abandoned. News 
 so agreeable and so little expected determined the Due 
 cle Vendome and the King of Spain to return to the 
 battle with the troops that had followed them. The 
 day was, in fact, won just as night came on. The 
 enemies abandoned twenty pieces of cannon, two 
 mortars, their wounded and their equipages ; and num- 
 bers of them were taken prisoners. But Staremberg, 
 having all the night to himself, succeeded in retiring in 
 good order with seven or eight thousand men. His 
 baggage and the majority of his waggons fell a prey 
 to the vanquisher. Counting the garrison of Brig- 
 huega, the loss to the enemy was eleven thousand 
 men killed or taken, their ammunition, artillery, 
 baggage, and a great number of flags and standards. 
 When we consider the extreme peril the Crown of 
 Spain ran in these engagements, and that this time, if 
 things had gone ill there was no resource, we tremble 
 still. Had a catastrophe happened, there was noth- 
 ing to hope from France. Its exhaustion and its 
 losses would not have enabled it to lend aid. In its 
 desire for peace, in fact, it would have hailed the loss 
 of the Spanish Crown as a relief. The imprudence, 
 therefore, of M. de Vendome in so readily falling into 
 the snare laid for him, is all the more to be blamed. 
 He takes no trouble to inform himself of the disposi-
 
 342 Memoirs of 
 
 tions of the enemy ; he comes upon a place which he 
 believes a mere post, but soon sees it contains a numer- 
 ous garrison, and finds that the principal part of the 
 enemy's army is ready to fall upon him as he makes 
 the attack. Then he begins to see in what ship he has 
 embarked ; he sees the double peril of a double action 
 to sustain against Stanhope, whom he must overwhelm 
 by furious assault, and against Staremberg, whom he 
 must meet and defeat; or leave to the enemies the 
 Crown of Spain, and perhaps the person of Philip V., 
 as price of his folly. Brighuega is gained, but it is 
 without him. Villaviciosa is gained, but it is also 
 without him. This hero is not sharp-sighted enough 
 to see success when it comes. He thinks it defeat, and 
 gives orders for retreat. When informed that the bat- 
 tle is gained, he returns to the field, and as daylight 
 comes, perceives the fact to be so. He is quite with- 
 out shame for his stupid mistake, and cries out that 
 he has vanquished, with an impudence to which the 
 Spaniards were not accustomed ; and, to conclude, he 
 allows Staremberg's army to get clean off, instead of 
 destroying it at once, as he might have done, and so 
 finished the war. Such were the exploits of this great 
 warrior, so desired in Spain to resuscitate it, and such 
 were the first proofs of his capacity upon arriving in 
 that country ! * 
 
 * Despite Vendome's abominable character, it cannot but be evident 
 that Saint-Simon here gives way to his hatred, and carps unjustifiably. 
 If we were to deprive a general of the benefit of the chances of war, 
 and duly separate from surrounding circumstances what is due to his 
 own unaided genius, how many modern heroes would dwindle to no 
 better than scarecrows! As to the effect of Vendome's conduct at Court 
 and on the mind of the King, it is perfectly indifferent. Defeats formerly 
 made him a hero; victories now prove him a fool. This is perhaps the most 
 striking instance in the whole of Saint-Simon's Memoirs of the absolute 
 nullity of this Great Louis XIV.
 
 Saint-Simon 343 
 
 At the moment that the King of Spain was led back 
 to the battle-field by Yendome, and that they could 
 no longer doubt their good fortune, he sent a courier 
 to the Queen. Her mortal anguish was on the instant 
 changed into so great a joy, that she went out imme- 
 diately on foot into the streets of Yittoria, where all 
 was delight ; as it soon was over all Spain. The news 
 of the victory was brought to the King (of France) by 
 Don Gaspard de Zuniga, who gave an exact account 
 of all that had occurred, hiding nothing respecting 
 M. de Yendome, who was thus unmasked and dis- 
 graced, in spite of every effort on the part of his cabal 
 to defend him. 
 
 Among the allies, all the blame of this defeat fell 
 upon Stanhope. Seven or eight hours more of resist- 
 ance on his part at Brighuega would have enabled 
 Staremberg to come up to his assistance, and all the 
 resources of Spain would then have been annihilated. 
 Staremberg, outraged at the ill-success of his under- 
 taking, cried out loudly against Stanhope. Some of 
 the principal officers who had been at Brighuega sec- 
 onded these complaints. Stanhope even did not dare 
 to deny his fault. He was allowed to demand leave 
 of absence to go home and defend himself. He was 
 badly received, stripped of all military rank in Eng- 
 land and Holland, and (as well a? the officers under 
 him) was not without fear of his degradation, and was 
 even in danger of his life. 
 
 This recital of the events that took place in Spain 
 has led me away from other matters of earlier date. 
 It is time now that I should return to them.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 State of the Country New Taxes The King's Conscience 
 Troubled Decision of the Sorbonne Debate in the Coun- 
 cil Effect of the Royal Tithe Tax on Agioteurs Merri- 
 ment at Court Death of a Son o'f Marechal Boufflers The 
 Jesuits. 
 
 A LTHOUGH, as we have just seen, matters were 
 /~\ beginning to brighten a little in Spain, they re- 
 mained as dull and overcast as ever in France. The 
 impossibility of obtaining peace, and the exhaustion 
 of the realm, threw the King into the most cruel 
 anguish, and Desmarets into the saddest embarrass- 
 ment. The paper of all kinds with which trade was 
 inundated, and which had all more or less lost credit, 
 made a chaos for which no remedy could be perceived. 
 State-bills, bank-bills, receiver-general's-bills, title- 
 bills, utensil-bills, were the ruin of private people, who 
 were forced by the King to take them in payment, and 
 who lost half, two-thirds, and sometimes more, by the 
 transaction. This depreciation enriched the money 
 people, at the expense of the public; and the circula- 
 tion of money ceased, because there was no longer any 
 money; because the King no longer paid anybody, but 
 drew his revenues still; and because all the specie out 
 
 344
 
 Saint-Simon 345 
 
 of his control was locked up in the coffers of the pos- 
 sessors. 
 
 The capitation tax was doubled and trebled, at the 
 will of the Intendants of the Provinces ; merchandise 
 and all kinds of provision were taxed to the amount 
 of four times their value; new taxes of all kinds and 
 upon all sorts of things were exacted; all this crushed 
 nobles and roturiers, lords and clergy, and yet did not 
 bring enough to the King, who drew the blood of all 
 his subjects, squeezed out their very marrow, without 
 distinction, and who enriched an army of tax-gather- 
 ers and officials of all kinds, in whose hands the best 
 part of what was collected remained. 
 
 Desmarets, in whom the King had been forced to 
 put all his confidence in finance matters, conceived the 
 idea of establishing, in addition to so many taxes, that 
 Royal Tithe upon all the property of each community 
 and of each private person of the realm, that the Mare- 
 chal de Yauban, on the one hand, and Boisguilbert on 
 the other, had formerly proposed; but, as I have al- 
 ready described, as a simple and sole tax which would 
 suffice for all, which would all enter the coffers of the 
 King, and by means of which every other impost would 
 be abolished. 
 
 \Ye have seen what success this proposition met 
 with; how the financiers trembled at it; how the min- 
 isters blushed at it, with what anathemas it was reject- 
 ed, and to what extent these two excellent and skilful 
 citizens were disgraced. All this must be recollected 
 here, since Desmarets, who had not lost sight of this 
 system (not as relief and remedy unpardonable crimes 
 in the financial doctrine), now had recourse to it.
 
 346 Memoirs of 
 
 He imparted his project to three friends, Councillors 
 of State, who examined it well, and worked hard to 
 see how to overcome the obstacles which arose in the 
 way of its execution. In the first place, it was neces- 
 sary, in order to collect this tax, to draw from each 
 person a clear statement of his wealth, of his debts, 
 and so on. It was necessary to demand sure proofs 
 on these points so as not to be deceived. Here was 
 all the difficulty. Nothing was thought of the desola- 
 tion this extra impost must cause to a prodigious num- 
 ber of men, or of their despair upon finding themselves 
 obliged to disclose their family secrets; to have a lamp 
 thrown, as it were, upon their most delicate parts; all 
 these things, I say, went for nothing. Less than a 
 month sufficed these humane commissioners to render 
 an account of this gentle project to the Cyclop who 
 had charged them with it. Desmarets thereupon pro- 
 posed it to the King, who, accustomed as he was to 
 the most ruinous imposts, could not avoid being terri- 
 fied at this. For a long while he had heard nothing 
 talked of but the most extreme misery; this increase 
 saddened him in a manner so evident, that his valets 
 perceived it several days running, and were so dis- 
 turbed at it, that Marechal (who related all this curious 
 anecdote to me) made bold to speak to the King upon 
 this sadness, fearing for his health. The King avowed 
 to him that he felt infinite trouble, and threw himself 
 vaguely upon the state of affairs. Eight or ten days 
 after (during which he continued to feel the same mel- 
 ancholy), the King regained his usual calmness, and 
 called Marechal to explain the cause of his trouble. 
 
 The King related to Marechal that the extremity of
 
 Saint-Simon 347 
 
 his affairs had forced him to put on furious imposts; 
 that setting aside compassion, scruples had much tor- 
 mented him for taking thus the wealth of his sub- 
 jects; that at last he had unbosomed himself to the Pere 
 Tellier, who had asked for a few days to think upon 
 the matter, and that he had returned after having had a 
 consultation with some of the most skilful doctors 
 of the Sorbonne, who had decided that all the wealth 
 of his subjects was his, and that when he took it he 
 only took what belonged to him! The King added, 
 that this decision had taken away all his scruples, and 
 had restored to him the calm and tranquillity he had 
 lost. Marechal was so astonished, so bewildered to 
 hear this recital, that he could not offer one word. 
 Happily for him, the King quitted him almost immedi- 
 ately, and Marechal remained some time in the same 
 place, scarcely knowing where he was.* 
 
 After the King had been thus satisfied by his con- 
 fessor, no time was lost in establishing the tax. On 
 Tuesday, the 30th of September, Desmarets entered the 
 Finance Council with the necessary edict in his bag. 
 
 For some days everybody had known of this bomb- 
 shell in the air, and had trembled with that remnant of 
 hope which is founded only upon desire; all the Court 
 as well as all Paris waited in a dejected sadness to see 
 what would happen. People whispered to each other, 
 and even when the project was rendered public, no one 
 dared to talk of it aloud. 
 
 * The consultation related in the text is of course only astonishing 
 from the clear manner in which the monarchical theory is propounded, 
 and from the semi-hypocritical conduct of the King. Imagine a royal 
 personage having scruples at such an age, and under such circum- 
 stances! It is interesting to compare this anecdote with the invectives 
 of Estienne de la Boetie, who accuses monarchy of this very assumption 
 that all property belongs to it.
 
 348 Memoirs of 
 
 On the day above-named, the King brought forward 
 tliis measure in the Council, by saying, that the impos- 
 sibility of obtaining peace, and the extreme difficulty of 
 sustaining the war, had caused Desmarets to look about 
 in order to discover some means, which should appear 
 good, of raising money; that he had pitched upon this 
 tax; that he (the King), although sorry to adopt such 
 a resource, approved it, and had no doubt the Council 
 would do so likewise, when it was explained to them. 
 Desmarets, in a pathetic discourse, then dwelt upon 
 the reasons which had induced him to propose this tax, 
 and afterwards read the edict through from beginning 
 to end without interruption. 
 
 No one spoke, moreover, when it was over, until the 
 King asked D'Aguesseau his opinion. D'Aguesseau 
 replied, that it would be necessary for him to take home 
 the edict and read it through very carefully before ex- 
 pressing an opinion. The King said that D'Aguesseau 
 was right it would take a long time to examine the 
 edict but after all, examination was unnecessary, and 
 would only be loss of time. All remained silent again, 
 except the Due de Beauvilliers, who, seduced by the 
 nephew of Colbert, whom he thought an oracle in 
 finances, said a few words in favour of the project. 
 
 Thus was settled this bloody business, and immedi- 
 ately after signed, sealed, and registered, among stifled 
 sobs, and published amidst the most gentle but most 
 piteous complaints. The product of this tax was noth- 
 ing like so much as had been imagined in this bureau 
 of Cannibals ; and the King did not pay a single far- 
 thing more to any one than he had previously done. 
 Thus all the fine relief expected by this tax ended in 
 smoke.
 
 Saint-Simon 349 
 
 The Marechal cle Yauban had died of grief at the 
 ill-success of his task and his zeal, as I have related in 
 its place. Poor Boisguilbert, in the exile his zeal had 
 brought him, was terribly afflicted, to find he had in- 
 nocently given advice which he intended for the relief 
 of the State, but which had been made use of in this 
 frightful manner. Every man, without exception, saw 
 himself a prey to the tax-gatherers: reduced to calcu- 
 late and discuss with them his own patrimony, to re- 
 ceive their signature and their protection under the 
 most terrible pains; to show in public all the secrets 
 of his family; to bring into the broad open daylight 
 domestic turpitudes enveloped until then in the folds 
 of precautions the wisest and the most multiplied. 
 Many had to convince the tax agents, but vainly, that 
 although proprietors, they did not enjoy the tenth part 
 of their property. All Languedoc offered to give up 
 its entire wealth, if allowed to enjoy, free from every 
 impost, the tenth part of it. The proposition not only 
 was not listened to, but was reputed an insult and se- 
 verely blamed. 
 
 Monseigneur le Due cle Bourgogne spoke openly 
 against this tax, and against the finance people, who 
 lived upon the very marrow of the people; spoke with 
 a just and holy anger that recalled the memory of Saint- 
 Louis, of Louis XII., father of the People, and of Louis 
 the Just. Monseigneur, too, moved by this indigna- 
 tion, so unusual, of his son, sided with him, and showed 
 anger at so many exactions as injurious as barbarous, 
 and at so many insignificant men so monstrously en- 
 riched with the nation's blood. Both father and son 
 infinitely surprised those who heard them, and made
 
 350 Memoirs of 
 
 themselves looked upon in some sort, as resources from 
 which something might hereafter be hoped for. But 
 the edict was issued, and though there might be some 
 hope in the future, there was none in the present. And 
 no one knew who was to be the real successor of Louis 
 XIV., and how under the next government we were to 
 be still more overwhelmed than under this one. 
 
 One result of this tax was, that it enabled the King 
 to augment all his infantry with five men per com- 
 pany. 
 
 A tax was also levied upon the usurers, who had 
 much gained by trafficking in the paper of the King, 
 that is to say, had taken advantage of the need of those 
 to whom the King gave this paper in payment. These 
 usurers are called agiotenrs. Their mode was, ordi- 
 narily, to give, for example, according as the holder 
 of paper was more or less pressed, three or four hun- 
 dred francs (the greater part often in provisions), for a 
 bill of a thousand francs! This game was called agio. 
 It was said that thirty millions were obtained from this 
 tax. Many people gained much by it; I know not if 
 the King was the better treated. 
 
 Soon after this the coin was re-coined, by which great 
 profit was made for the King, and much wrong done 
 to private people and to trade. In all times it has been 
 regarded as a very great misfortune to meddle with 
 corn and money. Desmarets has accustomed us to 
 tricks with the money; M. le Due and Cardinal Fleury 
 to interfere with corn and to fictitious famine. 
 
 At the commencement of December, the King de- 
 clared that he wished there should be, contrary to cus-
 
 Saint-Simon 351 
 
 torn, plays and " apartments " at Versailles even when 
 Monseigneur should be at Meudon. He thought ap- 
 parently he must keep his Court full of amusements, 
 to hide, if it was possible, abroad and at home, the dis- 
 order and the extremity of affairs. For the same rea- 
 son, the carnival was opened early this season, and all 
 through the winter there were many balls of all kinds 
 at the Court, where the wives of the ministers gave very 
 magnificent displays, like fetes, to Madame la Duchesse 
 de Bourgogne and to all the Court. 
 
 But Paris did not remain less wretched or the prov- 
 inces less desolated. 
 
 And thus I have arrived at the end of 1710.* 
 At the commencement of the following year, 1711, 
 that is to say, a few days after the middle of March, 
 a cruel misfortune happened to the Marechal de Bouf- 
 flers. His eldest son was fourteen years of age, hand- 
 some, well made, of much promise, and who succeeded 
 
 * I cannot refrain, at the end of this short narrative, containing so 
 terrible an exposure of the principles and conduct of the Great King of 
 the Great Age, from referring to the trite observation trite from its 
 extreme truth that we have here sufficient explanation, not only of the 
 occurrence, but of the horrors of the French Revolution. We must 
 remember that, with rare exceptions, for a thousand years France was 
 subject to tyrants of the same nature; and that almost always when the 
 country was not desolated by oppression and taxation, it was desolated 
 by bigotry or licentiousness. All kings as such unless they have been 
 taught to be mere magistrates, instances of which are few look, as 
 Louis XIV. did, upon the nation as their property. This is why they 
 not only seize money wherever they can find it, but interfere with every- 
 thing from the religious belief, to the wives and daughters of their sub- 
 jects. A calculation has been made that six thousand persons perished 
 by executions of various kinds during the French Revolution. If we 
 compare this number with the multitudes who suffered each famine 
 brought on by the arrangements of the King and his ministers and the 
 connivance n{ the nobility, we shall be astonished at the clemency shown 
 by the people in the hour of vengeance and triumph.
 
 35 2 Memoirs of 
 
 marvellously at the Court, when his father presented 
 him there to the King to thank his Majesty for the re- 
 version of the government of Plow and of Lille. He 
 returned afterwards to the College of the Jesuits, where 
 he was being educated. I know not what youthful 
 folly he was guilty of with the two sons of D'Argenson; 
 but the Jesuits, wishing to show that they made no dis- 
 tinction of persons, whipped the little lad, because, to 
 say the truth, they had nothing to fear from the Mare- 
 chal de Boufflers; but they took good care to let the 
 others off, although equally guilty, because they had 
 to reckon with D'Argenson, lieutenant of the police, of 
 much credit in book matters, Jansenism, and all sorts 
 of things and affairs in which they were interested. 
 
 Little Boufflers, who was full of courage, and who 
 had done no more than the two Argensons, and with 
 them, was seized with such despair, that he fell ill that 
 same day. Pie was carried to the Marechal's house, 
 but it was impossible to save him. The heart was 
 seized, the blood diseased, the purples appeared; in four 
 days all was over. The state of the father and mother 
 may be imagined! The King, who was much touched 
 by it, did not let them ask or wait for him. He sent one 
 of his gentlemen to testify to them the share he had in 
 their loss, and announced that he would give to their 
 remaining son what he had already given to the other. 
 As for the Jesuits, the universal cry against them was 
 prodigious ; but that was all. This would be the place, 
 now that I am speaking of the Jesuits, to speak of an- 
 other affair in which they were concerned. But I pass 
 over, for the present, the dissensions that broke out at
 
 Saint-Simon 
 
 353 
 
 about this time, and that ultimately led to the famous 
 Papal Bull Unigenitus, so fatal to the Church and to 
 the State, so shameful for Rome, and so injurious to 
 religion; and I proceed to speak of the great event of 
 this year which led to others so memorable and so un- 
 expected. 
 
 VOL. II. 23
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 My Interview with Du Mont A Mysterious Communication 
 Anger of Monseigneur against Me Household of the 
 Duchesse de Berry Monseigneur Taken 111 of the Small- 
 Pox Effect of the News The King Goes to Meudon 
 The Danger Diminishes Madame de Maintenon at Meudon 
 The Court at Versailles Hopes and Fears The Danger 
 Returns Death of Monseigneur Conduct of the King. 
 
 BUT in order to understand the part I played in the 
 event I have alluded to and the interest I took 
 in it, it is necessary for me to relate some personal 
 matters that occurred in the previous year. Du Mont 
 was one of the confidants of Monseigneur; but also had 
 never forgotten what his father owed to mine. Some 
 days after the commencement of the second voyage to 
 Marly, subsequently to the marriage of the Duchesse 
 de Berry, as I was coming back from the King's mass, 
 the said Du Mont, in the crush at the door of the little 
 salon of the chapel, took an opportunity when he was 
 not perceived, to pull me by my coat, and when I turned 
 round put a finger to his lips, and pointed towards the 
 gardens which are at the bottom of the river, that is 
 to say, of that superb cascade which the Cardinal Fleury 
 has destroyed, and which faced the rear of the chateau. 
 At the same time Du Mont whispered in my ear : " To 
 
 354
 
 Saint-Simon 355 
 
 the arbours ! " That part of the garden was surround- 
 ed with arbours palisaded so as to conceal what was 
 inside. It was the least frequented place at Marly, lead- 
 ing to nothing; and in the afternoon even, and the even- 
 ing, few people within them. 
 
 Uneasy to know what Du Mont wished to communi- 
 cate with so much mystery, I gently went towards the 
 arbours where, without being seen, I looked through 
 one of the openings until I saw him appear. He slipped 
 in by the corner of the chapel, and I went towards him. 
 As he joined me he begged me to return towards the 
 river, so as to be still more out of the way; and then 
 we set ourselves against the thickest palisades, as far 
 as possible from all openings, so as to be still more con- 
 cealed.* All this surprised and frightened me: I was 
 still more so when I learned what was the matter. 
 
 Du Mont then told me, on condition that I promised 
 not to show that I knew it, and not to make use of my 
 knowledge in any way without his consent, that two 
 days after the marriage of the Due de Berry, having 
 entered towards the end of the morning the cabinet of 
 Monseigneur, he found him alone, looking very serious. 
 He followed Monseigneur, through the gardens alone, 
 until he entered by the window the apartments of the 
 Princesse de Conti, who was also alone. As he entered 
 Monseigneur said with an air not natural to him, and 
 very inflamed as if by way of interrogation that she 
 " sat very quietly there." This frightened her so, that 
 she asked if there was any news from Flanders, and 
 
 * To understand all this precaution, it is necessary to remember what 
 has previously been told of the company of Swiss spies set on foot by 
 the King for the gardens of Marly. What real man would be a courtier 
 here on such conditions?
 
 356 Memoirs of 
 
 what had happened. Monseigneur answered, in a 
 tone of great annoyance, that there was no news ex- 
 cept that the Due de Saint-Simon had said, that now 
 that the marriage of the Due de Berry was brought 
 about, it would be proper to drive away Madame la 
 Duchesse and the Princesse de Conti, after which it 
 would be easy to govern " the great imbecile," mean- 
 ing himself. This was why he thought she ought not 
 to be so much at her ease. Then, suddenly, as if lash- 
 ing his sides to get into a greater rage, he spoke in a 
 way such a speech would have deserved, added men- 
 aces, said that he would have the Due de Bourgogne 
 to fear me, to put me aside, and separate himself en- 
 tirely from me. This sort of soliloquy lasted a long 
 time, and I was not told what the Princesse de Conti 
 said to it; but from the silence of Du Mont, her an- 
 noyance at the marriage I had brought about, and other 
 reasons, it seems to me unlikely that she tried to soften 
 Monseigneur. 
 
 Du Mont begged me not, for a long time at least, 
 to show that I knew what had taken place, and to be- 
 have with the utmost prudence. Then he fled away 
 by the path he had come by, fearing to be seen. I re- 
 mained walking up and down in the arbour all the time, 
 reflecting on the wickedness of my enemies, and the 
 gross credulity of Monseigneur. Then I ran away, 
 and escaped to Madame de Saint-Simon, who, as aston- 
 ished and frightened as I, said not a word of the com- 
 munication I had received. 
 
 I never knew who had served me this ill-turn with 
 Monseigneur, but I always suspected Mademoiselle de 
 Lillebonne. After a long time, having obtained with
 
 Saint-Simon 357 
 
 difficulty the consent of the timid Du Mont, I made 
 Madame de Saint-Simon speak to the Duchesse de 
 Bourgogne, who undertook to arrange the affair as well 
 as it could be arranged. The Duchess spoke indeed 
 to Monseigneur, and showed him how ridiculously he 
 had been deceived, when he was persuaded that I could 
 ever have entertained the ideas attributed to me. Mon- 
 seigneur admitted that he had been carried away by 
 anger; and that there was no likelihood that I should 
 have thought of anything so wicked and incredible. 
 
 About this time the house of the Due and Duchesse 
 de Berry was constituted. Racilly obtained the splendid 
 appointment of first surgeon, and was worthy of it; but 
 the Duchesse de Berry wept bitterly, because she did 
 not consider him of high family enough. She was not 
 so delicate about La Have, whose appointment she rap- 
 idly secured. The fellow looked in the glass more com- 
 plaisantly than ever. He was well made, but stiff, and 
 with a face not at all handsome, and looking as if it 
 had been skinned. He was happy in more ways than 
 one, and was far more attached to his new mistress than 
 to his master. The King was very angry when he 
 learned that the Due de Berry had supplied himself 
 with such an assistant. 
 
 Meantime, I continued on very uneasy terms with 
 Monseigneur, since I had learned his strange credulity 
 with respect to me. I began to feel my position very 
 irksome, not to say painful, on this account. Meudon 
 I would not go to for me it was a place infested with 
 demons yet by stopping away I ran great risks of los- 
 ing the favour and consideration I enjoyed at Court. 
 Monseigneur was a man so easily imposed upon, as I
 
 358 Memoirs of 
 
 had already experienced, and his intimate friends were 
 so unscrupulous that there was no saying what might 
 be invented on the one side and swallowed on the other, 
 to my discredit. Those friends, too, were, I knew, en- 
 raged against me for divers weighty reasons, and would 
 stop at nothing, I was satisfied, to procure my down- 
 fall. For want of better support I sustained myself 
 with courage. I said to myself, " We never experience 
 all the evil or all the good that we have apparently the 
 most reason to expect." I hoped, therefore, against 
 hope, terribly, troubled it must be confessed on the score 
 of Meudon. At Easter, this year, I went away to La 
 Ferte, far from the Court and the world, to solace my- 
 self as I could; but this thorn in my side was cruelly 
 sharp! At the moment the most unlooked-for it 
 pleased God to deliver me from it. 
 
 At La Ferte I had but few guests: M. de Saint-Louis, 
 an old brigadier of cavalry, and a Normandy gentle- 
 man, who had been in my regiment, and who was much 
 attached to me. On Saturday, the nth of the month, 
 and the day before Quasimodo, I had been walking 
 with them all the morning, and I had entered all alone 
 into my cabinet a little before dinner, when a courier 
 sent by Madame de Saint-Simon, gave me a letter from 
 her, in which I was informed that Monseigneur was 
 ill! 
 
 I learnt afterwards that this Prince, while on his way 
 to Meudon for the Easter fetes, met at Chaville a priest, 
 who was carrying Our Lord to a sick person. Mon- 
 seigneur, and Madame de Bourgogne, who was with 
 him, knelt down to adore the Host, and then Mon- 
 seigneur inquired what was the malady of the patient.
 
 Saint-Simon 359 
 
 :< The small-pox," he was told. That disease was very 
 prevalent just then. Monseigneur had had it, but very 
 lightly, and when young. He feared it very much, and 
 was struck with the answer he now received. In the 
 evening he said to Boudin, his chief doctor, " I should 
 not be surprised if I were to have the small-pox." The 
 day, however, passed over as usual. 
 
 On the morrow, Thursday, the 9th, Monseigneur 
 rose, and meant to go out wolf-hunting; but as he was 
 dressing, such a fit of weakness seized him, that he fell 
 into his chair. Boudin made him get into bed again; 
 but all the day his pulse was in an alarming state. The 
 King, only half informed by Fagon of what had taken 
 place, believed there was nothing the matter, and went 
 out walking at Marly after dinner, receiving news from 
 time to time. Monseigneur le Due de Bourgogne and 
 Madame de Bourgogne dined at Meudon, and they 
 would not quit Monseigneur for one moment. The 
 Princess added to the strict duties of a daughter-in-law 
 all that her gracefulness could suggest, and gave every- 
 thing to Monseigneur with her own hand. Her heart 
 could not have been troubled by what her reason fore- 
 saw; but, nevertheless, her care and attention were ex- 
 treme, without any airs of affectation or acting. The 
 Due de Bourgogne, simple and holy as he was, and full 
 of the idea of his duty, exaggerated his attention; and 
 although there was a strong suspicion of the small-pox, 
 neither quitted Monseigneur, except for the King's 
 supper. 
 
 The next day, Friday, the loth, in reply to his ex- 
 press demands, the King was informed of the extreme- 
 ly dangerous state of Monseigneur. He had said on
 
 360 Memoirs of 
 
 the previous evening that he would go on the follow- 
 ing morning to Meudon, and remain there during all 
 the illness of Monseigneur whatever its nature might 
 he. He was now as good as his word. Immediately 
 after mass he set out for Meudon. Before doing so, 
 he forbade his children, and all who had not had the 
 small-pox, to go there, which was suggested by a mo- 
 tive of kindness. With Madame de Maintenon and a 
 small suite, he had just taken up his abode in Meudon, 
 when Madame de Saint-Simon sent me the letter of 
 which I have just made mention. 
 
 I will continue to speak of myself with the same 
 truthfulness I speak of others, and with as much exact- 
 ness as possible. According to the terms on which I 
 was with Monseigneur and his intimates, may be im- 
 agined the impression made upon me by this news. 
 I felt that one way or other, well or ill, the malady of 
 Monseigneur would soon terminate. I was quite at 
 my ease at La Ferte. I resolved therefore to wait there 
 until I received fresh particulars. I despatched a cou- 
 rier to Madame de Saint-Simon, requesting her to send 
 me another the next day, and I passed the rest of this 
 day, in an ebb and flow of feelings; the man and the 
 Christian struggling against the man and the courtier, 
 and in the midst of a crowd of vague fancies catching 
 glimpses of the future, painted in the most agreeable 
 colours. 
 
 The courier I expected so impatiently arrived the 
 next day, Sunday, after dinner. The small-pox had 
 declared itself, I learnt, and was going on as well as 
 could be wished. I believed Monseigneur saved, and 
 wished to remain at my own house; nevertheless I took
 
 Saint-Simon 361 
 
 advice, as I have done all my life, and with great re- 
 gret set out the next morning. At La Queue, about 
 six leagues from Versailles, I met a financier of the 
 name of La Fontaine, whom I knew well. He was 
 coming from Paris and Versailles, and came up to. me 
 as I changed horses. Monseigneur, he said, was go- 
 ing on admirably; and he added details which con- 
 vinced me he was out of all danger. I arrived at Ver- 
 sailles, full of this opinion, which was confirmed by 
 Madame de Saint-Simon and everybody I met, so that 
 nobody any longer feared, except on account of the 
 treacherous nature of this disease in a very fat man of 
 fifty. 
 
 The King held his Council, and worked in the even- 
 ing with his ministers as usual. He saw Monseigneur 
 morning and evening, oftentimes in the afternoon, and 
 always remained long by the bedside. On the Mon- 
 day I arrived he had dined early, and had driven to 
 Marly, where the Duchesse de Bourgogne joined him. 
 He saw in passing on the outskirts of the garden of 
 Versailles his grandchildren, who had come out to meet 
 him, but he would not let them come near, and said 
 " good day " from a distance. The Duchesse de Bour- 
 gogne had had the small-pox, but no trace was left. 
 
 The King only liked his own houses, and could not 
 bear to be anywhere else. This was why his visits to 
 Meudon were few and short, and only made from com- 
 plaisance. Madame de Maintenon was still more out 
 of her element there. Although her chamber was 
 everywhere a sanctuary, where only ladies entitled to 
 the most extreme familiarity entered, she always want- 
 ed another retreat near at hand entirely inaccessible
 
 362 Memoirs of 
 
 except to the Duchesse de Bourgogne alone, and that 
 only for a few instants at a time. Thus she had Saint- 
 Cyr for Versailles and for Marly; and at Marly also a 
 particular retiring place; at Fontainebleau she had her 
 town house. Seeing therefore that Monseigneur was 
 getting on well, and that a long sojourn at Meudon 
 would be necessary, the upholsterers of the King were 
 ordered to furnish a house in the park which once be- 
 longed to the Chancellor le Tellier, but which Mon- 
 seigneur had bought. 
 
 When I arrived at Versailles, I wrote to M. de Beau- 
 villiers at Meudon praying him to apprise the King 
 that I had returned on account of the illness of Mon- 
 seigneur, and that I would have gone to see him, but 
 that, never having had the small-pox I was included 
 in the prohibition. M. de Beauvilliers did as I asked, 
 and sent word back to me that my return had been 
 very well timed, and that the King still forbade me 
 as well as Madame de Saint-Simon to go to Meudon. 
 This fresh prohibition did not distress me in the least. 
 I was informed of all that was passing there, and that 
 satisfied me. 
 
 There were yet contrasts at Meudon worth noticing. 
 Mademoiselle Choin never appeared while the King was 
 with Monseigneur, but kept close in her loft. When 
 the coast was clear she came out, and took up her po- 
 sition at the sick man's bedside. All sorts of compli- 
 ments passed between her and Madame de Maintenon, 
 yet the two ladies never met. The King asked Ma- 
 dame de Maintenon if she had seen Mademoiselle 
 Choin, and upon learning that she had not, was but 
 ill-pleased. Therefore Madame de Maintenon sent ex-
 
 Saint-Simon 363 
 
 cuses and apologies to Mademoiselle Choin, and hoped 
 she said to see her soon, strange compliments from 
 one chamber to another under the same roof. They 
 never saw each other afterwards. 
 
 It should be observed, that Pere Tellier was also in- 
 cognito at Meudon, and dwelt in a retired room from 
 which he issued to see the King, but never approached 
 the apartments of Monseigneur. 
 
 Versailles presented another scene. Monseigneur le 
 Due and Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne held their 
 Court openly there; and this Court resembled the first 
 gleamings of the dawn. All the Court assembled there; 
 all Paris also; and as discretion and precaution were 
 never French virtues, all Meudon came as well. Peo- 
 ple were believed on their word when they declared 
 that they had not entered the apartments of Mon- 
 seigneur that day, and consequently could not bring the 
 infection. \Yhen the Prince and Princess rose, when 
 they went to bed, when they dined and supped with 
 the ladies, all public conversations all meals all as- 
 semblies were opportunities of paying court to them. 
 The apartments could not contain the crowd. The 
 characteristic features of the room were many. Couri- 
 ers arrived every quarter of an hour, and reminded 
 people of the illness of Monseigneur he was going on 
 as well as could be expected ; confidence and hope were 
 easily felt; but there was an extreme desire to please 
 at the new Court. The young Prince and the Prin- 
 cess exhibited majesty and gravity, mixed with gaiety; 
 obligingly received all. continually spoke to every one; 
 the crowd wore an air of complaisance; reciprocal sat- 
 isfaction showed in every face; the Due and Duchesse
 
 364 Memoirs of 
 
 de Berry were treated almost as nobody. Thus five 
 days fled away in increasing thought of future events 
 in preparation to be ready for whatever might hap- 
 pen. 
 
 On Tuesday, the I4th of April, I went to see the 
 Chancellor, and asked for information upon the state 
 of Monseigneur. He assured me it was good, and 
 repeated to me the words Fagon had spoken to him, 
 " that things were going on according to their wishes, 
 and beyond their hopes." The Chancellor appeared 
 to me very confident, and I had faith in him, so much 
 the more, because he was on an extremely good foot- 
 ing with Monseigneur. The Prince, indeed, had so 
 much recovered, that the fish-women came in a body 
 the self-same day to congratulate him, as they did after 
 his attack of indigestion. They threw themselves at 
 the foot of his bed, which they kissed several times, and 
 in their joy said they would go back to Paris and have 
 a Tc Dcnm sung. But Monseigneur, who was not in- 
 sensible to these marks of popular affection, told them 
 it was not yet time, thanked them, and gave them a 
 dinner, and some money. 
 
 As I was going home, I saw the Duchesse d'Orleans 
 walking on a terrace. She called to me; but I pre- 
 tended not to notice her, because La Montauban was 
 with her, and hastened home, my mind filled with this 
 news, and withdrew to my cabinet. Almost immedi- 
 ately afterwards Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans joined 
 me there. We were bursting to speak to each other 
 alone, upon a point on which our thoughts were alike. 
 She had left Meudon not an hour before, and she had 
 the same tale to tell as the Chancellor. Everybody was
 
 Saint-Simon 365 
 
 at ease there she said; and then she extolled the care 
 and capacities of the doctors, exaggerating their suc- 
 cess; and, to speak frankly and to our shame, she and 
 I lamented together to see Monseigneur, in spite of his 
 age and his fat, escape from so dangerous an illness. 
 She reflected seriously but wittily, that after an illness 
 of this sort, apoplexy was not to be looked for; that 
 an attack of indigestion was equally unlikely to arise, 
 considering the care Monseigneur had taken not to 
 over-gorge himself since his recent danger; and we 
 concluded more than dolefully, that henceforth we must 
 make up our minds that the Prince would live and 
 reign for a long time. In a word, we let ourselves loose 
 in this rare conversation, although not without an oc- 
 casional scruple of conscience which disturbed it. Ma- 
 dame cle Saint-Simon all devoutly tried what she could 
 to put a drag upon our tongues, but the drag broke, 
 so to speak, and we continued our free discourse, hu- 
 manly speaking very reasonable on our parts, but 
 which we felt, nevertheless, was not according to re- 
 ligion. Thus two hours passed, seemingly very short. 
 Madame d'Orleans went away, and I repaired with Ma- 
 dame de Saint-Simon to receive a numerous company. 
 While thus all was tranquillity at Versailles, and even 
 at Meudon, everything had changed its aspect at the 
 chateau. The King had seen Monseigneur several 
 times during the day; but in his after-dinner visit he 
 was so much struck with the extraordinary swelling of 
 the face and of the head, that he shortened his stay, 
 and on leaving the chateau, shed tears. He was re- 
 assured as much as possible, and after the council he 
 took a walk in the garden.
 
 366 Memoirs of 
 
 Nevertheless Monseigneur had already mistaken Ma- 
 dame la Princesse de Conti for some one else; and 
 Boudin, the doctor, was alarmed. Monseigneur him- 
 self had been so from the first, and he admitted, that 
 for a long time before being attacked, he had been very 
 unwell, and so much on Good Friday, that he had been 
 unable to read his prayer-book at chapel. 
 
 Towards four o'clock he grew worse, so much so 
 that Boudin proposed to Fagon to call in other doc- 
 tors, more familiar with the disease than they were. 
 But Fagon flew into a rage at this, and would call in 
 nobody. He declared that it would be better to act 
 for themselves, and to keep Monscigneur's state secret, 
 although it was hourly growing worse, and towards 
 seven o'clock was perceived by several valets and cour- 
 tiers. But nobody dared to open his mouth before 
 Fagon, and the King was actually allowed to go to sup- 
 per and to finish it without interruption, believing on the 
 faith of Fagon that Monseigneur was going on well. 
 
 While the King supped thus tranquilly, all those who 
 were in the sick-chamber began to lose their wits. 
 Fagon and the others poured clown physic on physic, 
 without leaving time for any to work. The Cure, who 
 was accustomed to go and learn the news every even- 
 ing, found, against all custom, the doors thrown wide 
 open, and the valets in confusion. He entered the 
 chamber, and perceiving what was the matter, ran to 
 the bedside, took the hand of Monseigneur, spoke to 
 him of God, and seeing him full of consciousness, but 
 scarcely able to speak, drew from him a sort of con- 
 fession, of which nobody had hitherto thought, and 
 suggested some acts of contrition. The poor Prince
 
 Saint-Simon 367 
 
 repeated distinctly several words suggested to him, and 
 confusedly answered others, struck his breast, squeezed 
 the Cure's hand, appeared penetrated with the best 
 sentiments, and received with a contrite and willing 
 air the absolution of the Cure. 
 
 As the King rose from the supper-table, he well-nigh 
 fell backward when Fagon, coming forward, cried in 
 great trouble that all was lost. It may be imagined 
 what terror seized all the company at this abrupt pas- 
 sage from perfect security to hopeless despair. The 
 King, scarcely master of himself, at once began to go 
 towards the apartment of Monseigneur, and repelled 
 very stiffly the indiscreet eagerness of some courtiers 
 who wished to prevent him, saying that he would see 
 his son again, and be quite certain that nothing could 
 be done. As he was about to enter the chamber, Ma- 
 dame la Princesse de Conti presented herself before 
 him, and prevented him from going in. She pushed 
 him back with her hands, and said that henceforth he 
 had only to think of himself. Then the King, nearly 
 fainting from a shock so complete and so sudden, fell 
 upon a sofa that stood near. He asked unceasingly 
 for news of all who passed, but scarce anybody dared 
 to reply to him. He had sent for Pere Tellier, who 
 went into Monseigneur's room; but it was no longer 
 time. It is true the Jesuit, perhaps to console the 
 King, said that he gave him a well-founded absolu- 
 tion. Madame de Maintenon hastened after the King, 
 and sitting down beside him on the same sofa, tried 
 to cry. She endeavoured to lead away the King into 
 the carriage already waiting for him in the court-yard, 
 but lie would not go, and sat thus outside the door until 
 Monseigneur had expired.
 
 368 Saint-Simon 
 
 The agony, without consciousness, of Monseigneur 
 lasted more than an hour after the King had come into 
 the cabinet. Madame la Duchesse and Madame la 
 Princesse de Conti divided their cares between the dy- 
 ing man and the King, to whom they constantly came 
 back; whilst the faculty confounded, the valets bewil- 
 dered, the courtiers hurrying and murmuring, hustled 
 against each other, and moved unceasingly to and fro, 
 backwards and forwards, in the same narrow space. 
 At last the fatal moment arrived. Fagon came out, 
 and allowed so much to be understood. 
 
 The King, much afflicted, and very grieved that Mon- 
 seigneur's confession had been so tardily made, abused 
 Fagon a little; and went away led by Madame de Main- 
 tenon and the tw r o Princesses. He was somewhat 
 struck by rinding the vehicle of Monseigneur outside; 
 and made a sign that he would have another coach, 
 for that one made him suffer, and left the chateau. He 
 was not, however, so much occupied with his grief that 
 he could not call Pontchartrain to arrange the hour 
 of the council of the next day. I will not comment on 
 this coolness, and shall merely say it surprised extreme- 
 ly all present; and that if Pontchartrain had not said 
 the council could be put off, no interruption to busi- 
 ness would have taken place. The King got into his 
 coach with difficulty, supported on both sides. Ma- 
 dame de Maintenon seated herself beside him. A 
 crowd of officers of Monseigneur lined both sides of 
 the court on their knees, as he passed out, crying to 
 him with strange bowlings to have compassion on 
 them, for they had lost all, and must die of hunger.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 A Rumour Reaches Versailles Aspect of the Court Various 
 Forms of Grief The Due d'Orleans The News Confirmed 
 at Versailles Behaviour of the Courtiers The Due and 
 Duchesse de Berry The Due and Duchesse de Bourgogne 
 Madame A Swiss Asleep Picture of a Court The 
 Heir Apparent's Night The King Returns to Marly 
 Character of Monseigneur Effect of His Death. 
 
 WHILE Meudon was filled with horror, all was 
 tranquil at Versailles, without the least sus- 
 picion. We had supped. The company some time 
 after had retired, and I was talking with Madame dc 
 Saint-Simon, who had nearly finished undressing her- 
 self to go to bed, when a servant of Madame la Du- 
 chesse de Berry, who had formerly belonged to us, en- 
 tered, all terrified. He said that there must be some 
 bad news from Meudon, since Monseigneur le Due de 
 Bourgogne had just whispered in the ear of M. le Due 
 de Berry, whose eyes had at once become red, that he 
 left the table, and that all the company shortly after 
 him rose with precipitation. So sudden a change ren- 
 dered my surprise extreme. I ran in hot haste to 
 Madame la Duchesse de Berry's. Nobody was there. 
 Everybody had gone to Madame la Duchesse de Bour- 
 gogne. I followed on with all speed. 
 VOL. II. .4 369
 
 370 Memoirs of 
 
 I found all Versailles assembled on arriving, all the 
 ladies hastily dressed the majority having been on 
 the point of going to bed all the doors open, and all 
 in trouble. I learnt that Monseigneur had received 
 the extreme unction, that he was without conscious- 
 ness and beyond hope, and that the King had sent 
 word to Madame de Bourgogne that he was going to 
 Marly, and that she was to meet him as he passed 
 through the avenue between the two stables. 
 
 The spectacle before me attracted all the attention I 
 could bestow. The two Princes and the two Princesses 
 were in the little cabinet behind the bed. The bed 
 toilette was as usual in the chamber of the Duchesse 
 de Bourgogne, which was filled with all the Court 
 in confusion. She came and went from the cabinet 
 to the chamber, waiting for the moment when she was 
 to meet the King; and her demeanour, always distin- 
 guished by the same graces, was one of trouble and 
 compassion, which the trouble and compassion of 
 others induced them to take for grief. Now and then, 
 in passing, she said a few rare words. All present 
 were in truth expressive personages. Whoever had 
 eyes, without any knowledge of the Court, could see 
 the interests of all interested painted on their faces, 
 and the indifference of the indifferent ; these tranquil, 
 the former penetrated with grief, or gravely attentive 
 to themselves to hide their emancipation and their joy. 
 
 For my part, my first care was to inform myself 
 thoroughly of the state of affairs, fearing lest there 
 might be too much alarm for too trifling a cause ; then, 
 recovering myself, I reflected upon the misery com- 
 mon to all men, and that I myself should find myself
 
 Saint-Simon 371 
 
 some day at the gates of death. Joy, nevertheless, 
 found its way through the momentary reflections of 
 religion and of humanity, by which I tried to master 
 myself. My own private deliverance seemed so great 
 and so unhoped for, that it appeared to me that the 
 State must gain everything by such a loss. And with 
 these thoughts I felt, in spite of myself, a lingering fear 
 lest the sick man should recover, and was extremely 
 ashamed of it. 
 
 Wrapped up thus in myself, I did not fail, neverthe- 
 less, to cast clandestine looks upon each face, to see 
 what was passing there. I saw Madame la Duchesse 
 d'Orleans arrive, but her countenance, majestic and 
 constrained, said nothing. She went into the little 
 cabinet, whence she presently issued with the Due 
 d'Orleans, whose activity and turbulent air marked his 
 emotion at the spectacle more than any other senti- 
 ment. They went away, and I notice this expressly, 
 on account of what happened afterwards in my pres- 
 ence. 
 
 Soon afterwards I caught a distant glimpse of the 
 Due de Bourgogne, who seemed much moved and 
 troubled ; but the glance with which I probed him 
 rapidly, revealed nothing tender, and told merely of a 
 mind profoundly occupied with the bearings of what 
 had taken place. 
 
 Valets and chamber-women were already indis- 
 creetly crying out ; and their grief showed well that 
 they were about to lose something ! 
 
 Towards half-past twelve we had news of the King, 
 and immediately after Madame de Bourgogne came 
 out of the little cabinet with the Duke, who seemed
 
 37 2 Memoirs of 
 
 more touched than when I first saw him. The Prin- 
 cess took her carf and her coifs from the toilette, stand- 
 ing with a deliberate air, her eyes scarcely wet a fact 
 betrayed by inquisitive glances cast rapidly to the right 
 and left and, followed only by her ladies, went to her 
 coach by the great staircase. 
 
 I took the opportunity to go to the Duchesse d'Or- 
 leans, where I found many people. Their presence 
 made me very impatient ; the Duchess, who was 
 equally impatient, took a light and went in. I whis- 
 pered in the ear of the Duchesse de Villeroy, who 
 thought as I thought of this event. She nudged me, 
 and said in a very low voice that I must contain my- 
 self. I was smothered with silence, amidst the com- 
 plaints and the narrative surprises of these ladies ; but 
 at last M. le Due d'Orleans appeared at the door of 
 his cabinet, and beckoned me to come to him. 
 
 I followed him fnto the cabinet, where we were alone. 
 What was my surprise, remembering the terms on 
 which he was with Monseigneur, to see the tears 
 streaming from his eyes. 
 
 "Sir!" exclaimed I, rising. He understood me at 
 once ; and answered in a broken voice, really crying : 
 " You are right to be surprised I am surprised my- 
 self; but such a spectacle touches. He was a man 
 with whom I passed much of my life, and who treated 
 me well when he was uninfluenced. I feel very well 
 that my grief won't last long; in a few days I shall 
 discover motives of joy ; at present, blood, relation- 
 ship, humanity, all work ; and my entrails are 
 moved." I praised his sentiments, but repeated my 
 surprise. He rose, thrust his head into a corner, and
 
 Saint-Simon 373 
 
 with his nose there, wept bitterly and sobbed, which 
 if I had not seen I could not have believed. 
 
 After a little silence, however, I exhorted him to 
 calm himself. I represented to him that, everybody 
 knowing on what terms he had been with Mon- 
 seigneur, he would be laughed at, as playing a part, 
 if his eyes showed that he had been weeping. He did 
 what he could to remove the marks of his tears, and 
 we then went back into the other room. 
 
 The interview of the Duchesse de Bourgogne with 
 the King had not been long. She met him in the 
 avenue between the two stables, got down, and went 
 to the door of the carriage. Madame de Maintenon 
 cried out, "Where are you going? We bear the 
 plague about with us." I do not know what the King 
 said or did. The Princess returned to her carriage, 
 and came back to Versailles, bringing in reality the 
 first news of the actual death of Monseigneur. 
 
 Acting upon the advice of M. de Beauvilliers, all 
 the company had gone into the salon. The two 
 Princes, Monseigneur de Bourgogne and M. de Berry, 
 were there, seated on one sofa, their Princesses at their 
 sides ; all the rest of the company were scattered about 
 in confusion, seated or standing, some of the ladies 
 being on the floor, near the sofa. There could be no 
 doubt of what had happened. It was plainly written 
 on every face in the chamber and throughout the apart- 
 ment. Monseigneur w r as no more : it was known : it 
 was spoken of: constraint with respect to him no 
 longer existed. Amidst the surprise, the confusion, 
 and the movements that prevailed, the sentiments of 
 all were painted to the life in looks and gestures.
 
 374 Memoirs of 
 
 In the outside rooms were heard the constrained 
 groans and sighs of the valets grieving for the master 
 they had lost as well as for the master that had suc- 
 ceeded. Farther on began the crowd of courtiers of 
 all kinds. The greater number that is to say the 
 fools pumped up sighs as well as they could, and 
 with wandering but dry eyes, sung the praises of Mon- 
 seigneur insisting especially on his goodness. They 
 pitied the King for the loss of so good a son. The 
 keener began already to be uneasy about the health 
 of the King; and admired themselves for preserving 
 so much judgment amidst so much trouble, which 
 could be perceived by the frequency of their repeti- 
 tions. Others, really afflicted the discomfited cabal 
 wept bitterly, and kept themselves under with an 
 effort as easy to notice as sobs. The most strong- 
 minded or the wisest, with eyes fixed on the ground, 
 in corners, meditated on the consequences of such an 
 event and especially on their own interests. Few 
 words passed in conversation here and there an ex- 
 clamation wrung from grief was answered by some 
 neighbouring grief a word every quarter of an hour 
 sombre and haggard eyes movements quite invol- 
 untary of the hands immobility of all other parts of 
 the body. Those who already looked upon the event 
 as favourable in vain exaggerated their gravity so as 
 to make it resemble chagrin and severity ; the veil 
 over their faces was transparent and hid not a single 
 feature. They remained as motionless as those who 
 grieved most, fearing opinion, curiosity, their own 
 satisfaction, their every movement ; but their eyes 
 made up for their immobility. Indeed they could not
 
 Saint-Simon 375 
 
 refrain from repeatedly changing their attitude like 
 people ill at ease, sitting or standing, from avoiding 
 each other too carefully, even from allowing their eyes 
 to meet nor repress a manifest air of liberty nor 
 conceal their increased liveliness nor put out a sort 
 of brilliancy which distinguished them in spite of them- 
 selves. 
 
 The two Princes, and the two Princesses who sat 
 by their sides, were more exposed to view than any 
 other. The Due de Bourgogne wept with tenderness, 
 sincerity, and gentleness, the tears of nature, of re- 
 ligion, and patience. M. le Due de Berry also sin- 
 cerely shed abundance of tears, but bloody tears, so 
 to speak, so great appeared their bitterness ; and he 
 uttered not only sobs, but cries, nay, even yells. He 
 was silent sometimes, but from suffocation, and then 
 would burst out again with such a noise, such a 
 trumpet sound of despair, that the majority present 
 burst out also at these dolorous repetitions, either im- 
 pelled by affliction or decorum. He became so bad, in 
 fact, that his people were forced to undress him then 
 and there, put him to bed, and call in the doctor. 
 Madame la Duchesse de Berry was beside herself, and 
 we shall soon see why. The most bitter despair was 
 painted with horror on her face. There was seen \vrit- 
 ten, as it were, a sort of furious grief, based on interest, 
 not affection ; now and then came dry lulls deep and 
 sullen, then a torrent of tears and involuntary gest- 
 ures, yet restrained, which showed extreme bitterness 
 of mind, fruit of the profound meditation that had 
 preceded. Often aroused by the cries of her hus- 
 band, prompt to assist him, to support him, to embrace
 
 376 Memoirs of 
 
 him, to give her smelling-bottle, her care for him was 
 evident ; but soon came another profound reverie 
 then a gush of tears assisted to suppress her cries. As 
 for Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne she consoled 
 her husband with less trouble than she had to appear 
 herself in want of consolation. Without attempting 
 to play a part, it was evident that she did her best to 
 acquit herself of a pressing duty of decorum. But 
 she found extreme difficulty in keeping up appear- 
 ances. When the Prince her brother-in-law howled, 
 she blew her nose. She had brought some tears along 
 with her and kept them up with care ; and these com- 
 bined with the art of the handkerchief, enabled her to 
 redden her eyes, and make them swell, and smudge 
 her face ; but her glances often wandered on the sly 
 to the countenances of all present. 
 
 Madame arrived, in full dress she knew not why, 
 and howling she knew not why, inundated everybody 
 with her tears in embracing them, making the chateau 
 echo with renewed cries, and furnished the odd spec- 
 tacle of a Princess putting on her robes of ceremony 
 in the dead of night to come and cry among a crowd 
 of women with but little on except their night-dresses, 
 almost as masqueraders. 
 
 In the gallery several ladies, Madame la Duchesse 
 d'Orleans, Madame de Castries, and Madame de Saint- 
 Simon among the rest, rinding no one close by, drew 
 near each other by the side of a tent-bedstead, and be- 
 gan to open their hearts to each other, which they did 
 with the more freedom, inasmuch as they had but one 
 sentiment in common upon what had occurred. In 
 this gallery, and in the salon, there were always during
 
 Saint-Simon 377 
 
 the night several beds, in which, for security's sake, 
 certain Swiss guards and servants slept. These beds 
 had been put in their usual place this evening before 
 the bad news came from Meudon. In the midst of 
 the conversation of the ladies, Madame de Castries 
 touched the bed, felt something move, and was much 
 terrified. A moment after they saw a sturdy arm, 
 nearly naked, raise on a sudden the curtains, and thus 
 show them a great brawny Swiss under the sheets, half 
 awake, and wholly amazed. The fellow was a long 
 time in making out his position, fixing his eyes upon 
 every face one after the other ; but at last, not judging 
 it advisable to get up in the midst of such a grand com- 
 pany, he reburied himself in his bed, and closed the 
 curtains. Apparently the good man had gone to bed 
 before anything had transpired, and had slept so 
 soundly ever since that he had not been aroused until 
 then. The saddest sights have often the most ridicu- 
 lous contrasts. This caused some of the ladies to 
 laugh, and Madame d'Orleans fear lest the conversa- 
 tion should have been overheard. But after reflection, 
 the sleep and the stupidity of the sleeper reassured 
 her. 
 
 I had some doubts yet as to the event that had taken 
 place ; for I did not like to abandon myself to belief, 
 until the word was pronounced by some one in whom 
 I could have faith. By chance I met D'O, and I asked 
 him. He answered me clearly that Monseigneur 
 was no more. Thus answered, I tried not to be 
 glad. I know not if I succeeded well, but at least it is 
 certain, that neither joy nor sorrow blunted my curi- 
 osity, and that while taking due care to preserve all
 
 378 Memoirs of 
 
 decorum, I did not consider myself in any way forced 
 to play the doleful. I no longer feared any fresh at- 
 tack from the citadel of Meudon, nor any cruel charges 
 from its implacable garrison. I felt, therefore, under 
 no constraint, and followed every face with my glances, 
 and tried to scrutinise them unobserved. It must be 
 admitted, that for him who is well acquainted with the 
 privacies of a Court, the first sight of rare events of this 
 nature, so interesting in so many different respects, is 
 extremely satisfactory. Every countenance recalls the 
 cares, the intrigues, the labours employed in the ad- 
 vancement of fortunes in the overthrow of rivals : the 
 relations, the coldness, the hatreds, the evil offices 
 done, the baseness of all ; hope, despair, rage, satis- 
 faction, express themselves in the features. See how 
 all eyes wander to and fro examining what passes 
 around how some are astonished to find others more 
 mean, or less mean than was expected ! Thus this 
 spectacle produced a pleasure, which, hollow as it may 
 be, is one of the greatest a Court can bestow. 
 
 The turmoil in this vast apartment lasted about an 
 hour, at the end of which M. de Beauvilliers thought 
 it was high time to deliver the Princes of their com- 
 pany. The rooms were cleared. M. le Due de Berry 
 went away to his rooms, partly supported by his wife. 
 All through the night he asked, amid tears and cries, 
 for news from Meudon ; he would not understand the 
 cause of the King's departure to Marly. When at 
 length the mournful curtain was drawn from before 
 his eyes, the state he fell into cannot be described. 
 The night of Monscigneur and Madame de Bourgogne 
 was more tranquil. Some one having said to the Prin-
 
 Saint-Simon 379 
 
 cess, that having no real cause to be affected, it would 
 be terrible to play a part, she replied, quite naturally, 
 that without feigning, pity touched her and decorum 
 controlled her ; and indeed she kept herself within these 
 bounds with truth and decency. Their chamber, in 
 which they invited several ladies to pass the night in 
 arm-chairs, became immediately a palace of Morpheus. 
 All quietly fell asleep. The curtains were left open, 
 so that the Prince and Princess could be seen sleeping 
 profoundly. They woke up once or twice for a mo- 
 ment. In the morning the Duke and Duchess rose 
 early, their tears quite dried up. They shed no more 
 for this cause, except on special and rare occasions. 
 The ladies who had watched and slept in their cham- 
 ber, told their friends how tranquil the night had been. 
 But nobody was surprised, and as there was no longer 
 a Monseigneur, nobody was scandalised. Madame de 
 Saint-Simon and I remained up two hours before go- 
 ing to bed, and then went there without feeling any 
 want of rest. In fact, I slept so little that at seven in 
 the morning I was up ; but it must be admitted that 
 such restlessness is sweet, and such re-awakenings are 
 savoury. 
 
 Horror reigned at Metidon. As soon as the King 
 left, all the courtiers left also, crowding into the first 
 carriages that came. In an instant Meudon was 
 empty. Mademoiselle Choin remained alone in her 
 garret, and unaware of what had taken place. She 
 learned it only by the cry raised. Nobody thought of 
 telling her. At last some friends went up to her, hur- 
 ried her into ^ a hired coach, and took her to Paris. 
 The dispersion was general. One or two valets, at
 
 380 Memoirs of 
 
 the most, remained near the body. La Vrilliere, to 
 his praise be it said, was the only courtier who, not 
 having abandoned Monseigneur during life, did not 
 abandon him after his death. He had some difficulty 
 to find somebody to go in search of Capuchins to 
 pray over the corpse. The decomposition became so 
 rapid and so great, that the opening of the windows 
 was not enough ; the Capuchins, La Vrilliere, and the 
 valets, were compelled to pass the night outside. 
 
 At Marly everybody had felt so confident that the 
 King's return there was not dreamt of. Nothing was 
 ready, no keys of the rooms, no fires, scarcely an end 
 of candle. The King was more than an hour thus 
 with Madame de Maintenon and other ladies in one 
 of the ante-chambers. The King retired into a corner, 
 seated between Madame de Maintenon and two other 
 ladies, and wept at long intervals. At last the chamber 
 of Madame dc Maintenon was ready. The King en- 
 tered, remained there an hour, and then went to bed at 
 nearly four o'clock in the morning. 
 
 Monseigneur was rather tall than short ; very fat, 
 but without being bloated ; with a very lofty and noble 
 aspect without any harshness ; and he would have had 
 a very agreeable face if M. le Prince de Conti had not 
 unfortunately broken his nose in playing while they 
 were both young. He was of a very beautiful fair 
 complexion ; he had a face everywhere covered with a 
 healthy red, but without expression ; the most beauti- 
 ful legs in the world ; his feet singularly small and deli- 
 cate. He wavered always in walking, and felt his way 
 with his feet ; he was always afraid of falling, and if the 
 path was not perfectly even and straight, he called for
 
 Saint-Simon 381 
 
 assistance. He was a good horseman, and looked well 
 when mounted ; but he was not a bold rider. When 
 hunting they had persuaded him that he liked this 
 amusement a servant rode before him ; if he lost sight 
 of this servant he gave himself up for lost, slacked his 
 pace to a gentle trot, and oftentimes waited under a 
 tree for the hunting party, and returned to it slowly. 
 He was very fond of the table, but always without in- 
 decency. Ever since that great attack of indigestion, 
 which was taken at first for apoplexy, he made but one 
 real meal a day, and was content, although a great 
 eater, like the rest of the royal family. Nearly all his 
 portraits well resemble him. 
 
 As for his character he had none ; he was without 
 enlightenment or knowledge of any kind, radically in- 
 capable of acquiring any ; very idle, without imagina- 
 tion or productiveness ; without taste, without choice, 
 without discernment ; neither seeing the weariness he 
 caused others, nor that he was as a ball moving at 
 hap-hazard by the impulsion of others ; obstinate and 
 little to excess in everything; amazingly credulous and 
 accessible to prejudice, keeping himself, always, in the 
 most pernicious hands, yet incapable of seeing his 
 position or of changing it ; absorbed in his fat and his 
 ignorance ; so that without any desire to do ill he would 
 have made a pernicious King. 
 
 His avariciousness, except in certain things, passed 
 all belief. He kept an account of his personal ex- 
 penditure, and knew to a penny what his smallest and 
 his largest expenses amounted to. He spent large 
 sums in building, in furniture, in jewels, and in hunt- 
 ing, which he made himself believe he was fond of.
 
 382 Memoirs of 
 
 It is inconceivable the little he gave to La Choin, 
 whom he so much loved. It never exceeded four hun- 
 dred louis a quarter in gold, or sixteen hundred louis 
 a year, whatever the louis might be worth. He gave 
 them to her with his own hand, without adding or 
 subtracting a pistole, and, at the most, made her but 
 one present a year, and that he looked at twice before 
 giving. It was said that they were married, and cer- 
 tain circumstances seemed to justify this rumour. As, 
 for instance, during the illness of Monseigneur, the 
 King, as I have said, asked Madame de Maintenon if 
 she had seen Mademoiselle Choin, and upon receiving 
 a negative reply, was displeased. Instead of driving 
 her away from the chateau he inquired particularly 
 after her! This, to say the least, looked as though 
 Mademoiselle Choin was Monseigneur's Maintenon ; 
 but the matter remained incomprehensible to the last. 
 Mademoiselle Choin threw no light upon it, although 
 she spoke on many other things concerning Mon- 
 seigneur in the modest home at Paris, to which she had 
 retired for the rest of her days. The King gave her a 
 pension of twelve thousand livres. 
 
 Monseigneur was, I have said, ignorant to the last 
 degree, and had a thorough aversion for learning ; so 
 that, according to his own admission, ever since he 
 had been released from the hands of teachers he had 
 never read anything except the article in the " Gazette 
 de France/' in which deaths and marriages are re- 
 corded. His timidity, especially before the King, was 
 equal to his ignorance, which indeed contributed not 
 a little to cause it. The King took advantage of it, 
 and never treated him as a son, but as a subject. He
 
 Saint-Simon 383 
 
 was the monarch always, never the father. Mon- 
 seigneur had not the slightest influence with the King. 
 If he showed any preference for a person it was 
 enough ! That person was sure to be kept back by 
 the King. The King was so anxious to show that 
 Monseigneur could do nothing, that Monseigneur after 
 a time did not even try. He contented himself by com- 
 plaining occasionally in monosyllables, and by hoping 
 for better times. 
 
 The body of Monseigneur so soon grew decomposed, 
 that immediate burial was necessary. At midnight on 
 Wednesday he was carried, with but little ceremony, 
 to Saint-Denis, and deposited in the royal vaults. His 
 funeral services were said at Saint-Denis on the iSth 
 of the following June, and at Notre Dame on the 3rd 
 of July. As the procession passed through Paris 
 nothing but cries, acclamations, and eulogiums of the 
 defunct were heard. Monseigneur had, I know not 
 how, much endeared himself to the common people 
 of Paris, and this sentiment soon gained the provinces ; 
 so true it is, that in France it costs little to its Princes 
 to make themselves almost adored ! 
 
 The King soon got over his affliction for the loss of 
 this son of fifty. Never was a man so ready with tears, 
 so backward with grief, or so promptly restored to his 
 ordinary state. The morning after the death of Mon- 
 seigneur he rose late, called M. de Beauvilliers into his 
 cabinet, shed some more tears, and then said that from 
 that time Monseigneur le Due de Bourgogne and 
 Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne were to enjoy 
 the honours, the rank, and the name of Dauphin and 
 of Dauphine. Henceforth I shall call them by no 
 other names.
 
 384 
 
 Saint-Simon 
 
 My joy at this change may be imagined. In a few 
 clays all my causes of disquietude had been removed, 
 and I saw a future opening before me full of light and 
 promise. Monseigneur le Due de Bourgogne become 
 Dauphin, heir to the throne of France ; what favour 
 might I not hope for? I could not conceal or control 
 my satisfaction. 
 
 But alas ! it was soon followed by sad disappointment 
 and grievous sorrow.* 
 
 * The death of Monseignetir leaving Louis XIV. almost in his dotage, 
 on the throne, surrounded by young Princes and Princesses impatient 
 for a new reign, worked a wonderful change in the Court of France. 
 The subsequent part of these Memoirs will show the steps that led to 
 the Regency of the Due d'Orleans, and describe the state of France 
 under that Prince.
 
 Index 
 
 Acquaviva, Cardinal, iii. 106 
 
 Agioteurs, ii. 350 
 
 Alberoni, Card., ii. 71, 182; iii. 100, 
 
 333, 386, 391; iv. 78, 96, 180-89, 265 
 Alcazar, burning of, ii. 347 
 Aieth, Bishop of, iii. 286 
 Altamire, Comtesse d', iii. 117 
 America, establishments in, iv. 173 
 Anne, Queen, i. 317; ii. 155; iii. 66 
 Apartment, i. 18 
 Argenson, M. d', iii. 48, 343'. iv. 
 
 13, 144, 145 
 
 Argenton, Mme. d', ii. 287, 292 
 Arouet, fils (see Voltaire) 
 Asturias, Prince of the, iv. 282, 296 
 Asturias, Princess of the (see 
 
 Montpensier, Mdlle. de) 
 Aubigne, Comte d', i. 139 
 
 B 
 
 Baden, Prince Louis of, 5. 87; ii. 
 
 55 
 
 Bankruptcy and " finance," iv. 159 
 Barbezieux, M. de, i. 264 
 Bart, Jean, i. 133 
 Bastards (apotheosis of), ii. 321; 
 
 (adjudication) iv. 58-80 
 Battue, Spanish, iv. 274 
 Beauvais, Mme. de, i. 46 
 Beauvilliers, Due de, i. 49; ii. 182, 
 
 251; iii. 51 
 Beauvilliers, Duchesse de, iv. 299 
 
 VOL. II. 25 
 
 Bellegarde, Due de, i. 34 
 Bernard, Samuel, i. 133, 161, 188, 
 
 216 
 
 Berry, Due de, ii. 200; iii. 72, 129 
 Berry, Duchesse de, ii. 375; iii. 2, 
 
 132, 316; iv. 120-38 
 Berwick, Duke of, i. 1:2, 353; ii. 
 
 195, 321 ; iv. 190 
 Black Daughter of Louis XIV., 
 
 i. 147 
 
 Blenheim, battle of, ii. 8 
 Blois, Mdlle. de, i. 14 
 Boileau, Canon, i. 178 
 Borgia, Cardinal, iv. 283 
 Boufilers, Marechal de, i. 163, 170; 
 
 ii. 191, 204, 222, 261, 278, 282, 351 
 Bouillon, Cardinal de, i. 212; ii. 
 
 113, 3i- 
 Bourgog-ne, Due de, i. 21, 142, 163; 
 
 ii. 7, 33, 180, 181, 194, 197, 349, 
 
 383; iii. 5, 31, 37 
 Bourgogne, Duchesse de, i. 121, 
 
 142, 168; ii. 7, 38, 95, 159, 194, 231, 
 
 3", 33 1 . 37; iii- 5, 26 
 Brandenbourg, Elector of, ii. 132 
 Bretagne, Due de, ii. 15; iii. 40 
 Breteuil, M., i. 174; iv. 336 
 Brissac, M. dc, ii. 156; iv. 207 
 Burnet, Doctor, i. 228 
 
 Cambrais. Abp. of (see Dubois) 
 
 Carlos, Don, iv. 255 
 
 Catinat, Marcchal, i. 320; iii. 59 
 
 3-5
 
 386 
 
 Index 
 
 Caumartin, Abbe, i. 68 Daniel, Father, iii. 79 
 
 Cavoye, M., i. in; iii. 353 Darmstadt, Prince of, i. 137 
 
 Cellamare conspiracy, iv. 89-98 Dauphin, the, ii. 189, 364 
 
 Chaise, Pere la, i. 93, 173, 215; ii. D'Avaux, M., ii. 246 
 
 237 Denmark, King of, i. 191 
 
 Chamillart, M., i. 194, 262, 264, 319; Denmark, Queen of, i. 130 
 
 ii. 4, 23, 95, 184, 196, 270, 27.; Deportation of " Colonists," iv. 
 
 Charles Edward, Prince (the Pre- 158 
 
 tender), iii. 308-12 Desmarets, M., ii. 162, 344 
 
 Charles Edward, Prince (the Dillun, M., iv. 384 
 
 young Pretender), iv. 208 Domestic life of sovereigns, iv. 266 
 
 Charlus, Mme. de, iv. in Domiciliary visitation, iv. 154 
 
 Charnace, M., i. 159 Douglas, Colonel, iii. 309 
 
 Charost, Due de, iv. 310, 321, 326 Dubois, Cardinal, i. 15; iii. 177; 
 
 Chartres, Due de, i. 14, 283 iv. 22, 30, 91-91, 143, 144, 183, 188, 
 
 Chartres, Vidame de, iv. 282, 287 191-93, 207, 209, 217, 219, 225-38, 
 
 Chateauneuf, M. de, i. 218 276, 278, 300-09, 317, 327-48 
 
 Chatre, Abbe de la, i. 152 Duras, M., ii. 45 
 Chaulncs, M. de, i. 81 
 
 Chavigny, M. de, i. 35 j. 
 Chevreuse, M. de, i. 103; iii. 75 
 
 Chirac, physician, iv. 332, 386 England, Queen of, i. 24, 142 (see 
 
 Choin, Mdlle., ii. 272 further, on England: William 
 
 Choiseul, Marechal de, i. 131 III., Hanover, Tames II., James 
 
 Clement X., Pope, i. 222 III., Celamare, Jacobite, Charles 
 
 Clermont, M. de, i. 66 Edward, Hanover, George, Stair, 
 
 Coctlogon, Mdlle. de, i. in Stanhope) 
 
 Coetquen, Comte de, i. 12 Escurial, description of, iv. 252-56 
 
 Colbert, M., iv. 365 Estrees, Cardinal cP, iii. 165 
 
 Colonies, desire for, iv. 157 Eugene, Prince, i. 251; ii. 90, 193; 
 
 Conde, Prince de, i. 6; ii. 254 iii. 65 
 Conflans. Bailli de, iv. 4 
 
 TJ* 
 
 Conillac, M., i. 170 
 
 Conti, Prince de, i. 133, 169; ii. Fagon, physician, ii. 366; iii. 212; 
 
 225; iv. 146, 147 iy 22 
 
 Conti, Princc?se de, i. C6, 135; ii. 367 Farpues, M., i. 59 
 
 Couislin, Chev. de, i. 178 Farrier of Salon, i. 187 
 
 Courson, iii. 376, 384; iv. 319 Fenelon, Abbe de, i. 95 
 
 Courtenay, M. de, i. 47; iv. 150 Fcuilladc, Due de la, i. 116; ii. 83 
 
 Courtevaux, M. de, ii. 64 .. Finance," wonders of, iv. 139-59 
 
 Cremona, battle of, i. 258 Finances (public), disorder of, iv. 
 
 Crosat, iii. 305 I?3> ,-5.80 
 
 Fontaineau, iv. 23 
 
 D Fouquet, M., iv. 362 
 
 France, permanent injury from 
 
 IVAguesseau, M., ii. 348 Mississippi manipulation, iv. 155; 
 
 Dangcau, M., i. 119 plunged in disorder, iv. 328, 341
 
 Index 
 
 387 
 
 Frejus, M., iv. 312, 318-20, 321-26, J 
 
 347, 387, 390 
 
 Jacobite plot, ii. 147 
 
 Q James II., i. ii, 24, 80, 112, 142, 
 
 Ijl, 220, 303; iv. 367 
 
 Gaillard, Father, i. 107 James m>i ;;. M9> 20i; {il I24> 34 , 
 
 Gamaches, M., ii. 201 Jeronimites, Monks, iv. 252 
 
 George I. of England, iv. 205 Jesuits> hatred of> i5> 3 , 2 . admis . 
 
 Gervaise, Father, i. 172 sion of ]aitv> Hi _ 268; mutually 
 
 Gesvres, Marquis de, i. 174 ungrateful, iv. 115 
 
 Gibraltar, ii. 19 Joyeuse, M. de, i. S3 
 Gloucester, Duke of, i. 223 
 Godet, Bishop, i. 100 
 Golden Fleece, Knighthood of, 
 
 installation, iv. 287-94 Konigsmarck, Count, i. 80; iv. 205 
 Gonsalvo de Cordova, iv. 291 
 
 Government, abuse of, re money, -, 
 
 iv. 154, 155 
 
 Grand Prieur, the, ii. 55 La Grange, iv. 112 
 
 Great Western Company, iv. 156 Lamoignon, M., ii. 57; iv. 68, 319 
 
 Griffin, Lord, ii. 153 Langlee, i. 208 
 
 Grimaldo, Marquis, iv. 238, 261, Langres, Bishop of, i. 108 
 
 273, 278, 280, 298 Languet, Cure, iv. 112, 377 
 
 Guerchois, M. la, ii. 53 Laura, Donna Piscatori, iv. 184 
 
 Guyon, Mme., i. 97 Lauson, Due de, i. 84, 163; ii. 52; 
 
 iv. 349-59, 360-69, 370 
 
 II Lavienne, M., i. 92 
 
 Law, John, iii. 325, 352; iv. 13, i?, 
 Hanover, Elector of, i. 44, 80 
 
 TT TT t -a 139-50, 151-58, 160, 165, 170-74, 175, 
 Hanover, House of, strong influ- 
 ence over Regent Orleans, iv. T ' ' 
 
 Le Brun, in. 212 
 
 Lefevre, iii. 3^4, 385 
 
 Harcourt, Prince d , i. 332; 11. 251 * r~ j 
 
 _ . ., . .Ke dendre, iv. 207 
 
 Harcourt, Prmocsse d , i. 218, 333 . , TT , 
 
 TT ,.,,.,.. L Hospital, Mme., in. 312 
 
 Harlav, Archbishop, i. 106 , . , 
 
 -,",.,,. Lesdiguiercs, Duchesse de, i. 100; 
 
 Harlay, M. d, i. 56, 79, 127, 193; .. , , 
 
 ni. 64 T ... . , .. _ 
 
 TT , . , . Lille, siege of, n. 181 
 
 Helvetius, physician, in. 94; iv. 212 . . 
 
 TT .. ' .. Liria, Due de, iv. 2.57-94 
 
 Heudicourt, M., u. 325 T . 
 
 IT r- j Lorges, Due de, i. 84, 330 
 
 Horn, Comte de, iv. 200 _ . _ , . 
 
 TT , ,, .. Lorraine, Due de. i. 146 
 
 Hough, Mr., n. 146 T . VTTT 
 
 TT .... I.ouis XIII.. i. 33, 36, 213 
 
 Hyghens, physician, iv. 259, 261 T . ^ T , r . ' 
 
 Louis XIV., i. 8, 31, 81, 92, 107, 
 
 _ in, 115, 117, 123, 140, 163, 167, 
 185, 201, 204, 239, 278, 299; ii. 4, 
 
 India Company, iv. 1^3 64, 65, 95, 129, 143. 145. 159, 184, 
 
 Indies, Company of, iv. 159 196, 319. 367, 373; iii. 7, 54, 67, 90, 
 
 Interest on public debt reduced, 144, 170, 197-215, 216-70, 271-86; iv. 
 
 iv. 157 353, 359, 360
 
 388 
 
 Index 
 
 Louis XV., ii. 311; iii. 303; iv. 
 
 147, 148, 190, 210-13, 223, 308. 3' it 
 
 316, 318, 326, 327, 346 
 Louville, M., iv. 253 
 Louvois, M. de, ii. 71, 248; iii. 
 
 253: iv. 352, 360 
 Loyola, description of, iv. 235 
 Lude, Duchesse de, i. 117, 142; 
 
 3 
 Luxembourg, Due de, i. 54 
 
 M 
 
 Mailly, Comtesse de, i. 23; ii. 133 
 Mailly, Mdlle. de, i. 219 
 Maine, M. du, i. 26, 90; ii. 184; 
 iii. 141, 155, 296; iv. 14, 21, 27, 
 32, 39, 55, 58, 72, 76, 88, 99-no 
 Maine, Mine, du, iv. 14, 99-110, 366 
 Maintenon, Mme. de, i. 14, 101, 
 118, 130, 139, 147, 163, 170, 239, 
 285, 306, 335, 3)6; ii. 4, 62, 113, 
 167, 171, 184, 206, 228, 233, 269, 
 2/3, 277, 291 ; iii. 96, 200, 208, 212, 
 214, 239-59, 260-80; iv. 117 
 Maisons, M., iii. 135, 157 
 Malaga, battle of, ii. 19 
 Malplaquet, battle of, ii. 280 
 Marck, Comte de la, i. 211 
 Marcchal, physician, ii. 347; iv. 
 
 33-' 
 
 Marege, i. 134 
 Marlborough, Duke of, i. 317; ii. 
 
 8, 134, 320, 328 
 Marly, building of, iii. 234 
 Maulevrier, M. de, ii. 40; iv. 249 
 Meaux, M!. de, i. 103 
 Meilleray, Mme. de, ii. 312 
 Metal money against paper, iv. 
 
 '33 
 
 Miramion, Mme. de, i. 113 
 Mississippi Company, iv. 14, 139- 
 
 50, 151-62, 163 
 
 Monaco, M. de, i. 127, 202, 216 
 Money, new ease of, iv. 139-50 
 Montbron, M. de, i. 25 
 Montchevreuil, Mme. de, i. 26 
 
 Montespan, Mme. de, ii. 124; iii. 
 
 237; iv. 353, 360, 361, 365 
 Montfort, Due de, i. 17 
 Montpensier, Mme. de, i. 29 
 Montpensier, Mdlle. de (Asturias) 
 
 iv. 249, 282, 296 
 
 N 
 Namur, siege of, i. 5; capitulation, 
 
 i- 93 
 
 Nangis, Marechal, ii. 32 
 Nanon, i. 118 
 
 Nemours, Duchesse de, ii. 130 
 Ninon (d'Enclos), ii. 57 
 Noailles, Due de, i. 54; iii. 378; 
 
 iv. 391 
 
 Nogent, Mme. de, iv. 364-66 
 Notre, M. le, i. 221 
 Noyon, M. de, i. 63 
 
 O 
 
 O, Mme. d', i. 120; ii. 300 
 
 Orange, Prince of (see William 
 III.) 
 
 Orange, Princess of, i. 80 
 
 Orleans, Due d', i. 115, 271, 282; 
 ii. 84, 171, 264, 285-306, 372; iii. 
 43, 154, 171-86, (Regent) 192, 292, 
 325, 346; iv. 1-20, 23, 36-66, 79, 99- 
 113, 126, 140, 146, 152, 156, 160, 
 164, 167-68, 176, 185, 190-204, 209, 
 212, 278, 304-12, 313, 318, 327-32, 
 339, 346, 384, 385-93 
 
 Panache, Mme., i. 130 
 
 Papal infallibility, iv. 188, 255 
 
 Paper currency, attempt to force, 
 
 iv. 153, 154, 161, 164 
 Paper scarce, iv. 153 
 Parliament of Paris, iv. 7-32, 64, 
 
 157, 159, 164, 167-69 
 Parma, Prince of, i. 151 
 Pascal, ii. 243 
 Pensions, prodigality of, iv. 150 
 
 57, 169
 
 389 
 
 Peter the Great, i. 148; iii. 57, 360- Rochefoucauld, Due de la, i. 39, 
 
 75 115; iii- 89 
 
 Petit, M., i. 329 Rome, infallibility of, iv. 188, 255 
 
 Peyronie, physician, iv. 332 Rose, M., i. 171, 266 
 
 Philip II., iv. 252, 254, 255 Royal tithe, ii. 343 
 
 Philip V., i. 246, 357; ii. 263; iii. Roye, Comte de, i. 130 
 
 101; iv. 250, 260-71, 272-78 Ruvigny, M., i. 127 
 
 Philippiques, iv. 112 Ryswick, Peace of, i. 132 
 Pignerol, prison, iv. 361 
 
 Poitiers, Bishop of, i. 151 g 
 Poland, i. 134 
 
 Pontchartrain, M. de, ii. 47 fabran, Mme ' de > 1V ' 4 
 
 Portland, Duke of, i. 150 ' Algnan ' M ' de ' iv ' 96 
 
 u . Aiu- St. Geran, Mine, de, i. u6 
 rortocarrero, Abbe, iv. 91 
 
 T, . T, ,j /-., bt. lierem. Mme. de, i. too 
 
 Port Royal des Champs, n. 243 J 
 
 TJ r nr i o t. Laurent, M.. i. 15 
 
 Praslm, M. de, i. 258 ' ..' 
 
 . . St. Ruth, M., 11. 313 
 
 Prices, rise of, iv. 157 \Li-j- 
 
 r, , , . . , r~ St. Simon, Abbe de, iv. 258 
 
 Psychological state of France re _ _. 
 
 St. Simon, Due de, born, i. i; 
 stock companies, iv. 151 
 
 r, ,,- ,. . , commands company of cavalry, 
 Public audience, iv. 263 
 
 ,-, ... itr i ' 28; loses father, i. 31; account 
 
 Puyguilhem, M., iv. 352-57 (see , , , 
 
 Lauson, Due de) of fathcr ' '' 39: wlshes to marry ' 
 
 Puysegur, M., ii. 229 \\ : visits La frappe i. 5-'! 
 
 Due de Luxembourg s clawn of 
 precedence, i. 54; returns to 
 
 P. Paris, i. 122; again joins army, 
 i. 131; has son, i. 159; Louis 
 
 Queue, M. la, ii. 6 XIV - displeased with, ii. 4; ap- 
 
 pointed Ambassador to Rome, 
 ii. 106; falls through, ii. 108; 
 
 p friendly with new Dauphin, iii. 
 12; consulted by Regent Or- 
 
 Rabutin, Bussy, i. 113 leans, iii. 195; relations with 
 
 Racine, M., i. 58, 180 Regent, iv. i ; repugnance to 
 
 Ramillies, battle of, ii. 78 Mississippi Company, iv. 139-50; 
 
 Regency, iii. 192, 292, 304; iv. 1-20, prodigality of Regent, iv. 151-55; 
 
 36-60; prodigality of, iv. 156; appointed Ambassador to Spain, 
 
 (Council) iv. 164, 176. (See fur- iv. 216-24; goes to Madrid, iv. 
 
 ther: Orleans, Due d', chapters 225-48; sees Escurial, iv. 252-56; 
 
 iii., iv.) has small-pox, iv. 257; attends 
 
 Retz, Cardinal de, ii. 313 battue, iv. 274; duplicity of Du- 
 
 Revel, M. de, i. 259 bois, iv. 279-81; marriage of 
 
 Rheims, Abp. of, i. 220 Prince of the Asturias, iv. 283; is 
 
 Richelieu, Cardinal de, i. 33 made grandee of Spain, iv. 285; 
 
 Rion, iv. 123 Toison d'Or (Golden Fleece) 
 
 Rochefort, Marechale de, i. 22, 118 for son, iv. 285; Spanish people 
 
 Rohan, Cardinal dc, iv. 326 pleased with, iv. 205; end of 
 
 Rohan, Due de, ii. 170 mission, iv. 296; in Paris again,
 
 3QO Index 
 
 iv. 299; Villeroy disgraced, iv. Turin, battle of, ii. 90 
 
 300-16; good fortune of Frcjus, Turks, iii. 37 
 
 iv. 318-26; retires from public 
 
 life, iv. 327; Dubois declared \J 
 
 prime minister, iv. 3 . V ; wearied i; n ig e nitus, Bull, iii. 80 
 
 with Regent's weakness, iv. 328; Unknown prisoner, iii. 305 
 
 death of Dubois, iv. 332; Or- Ursins> Pri ncesse des, i. 341, 355; 
 
 leans prime minister, iv. 346; ,;. 5I> j;i> 263 . iH . 95> li?> ^ 
 
 death of Orleans, iv. 385-93; :25; iv . lKgi ^ 
 
 finally retires, iv. 393 Utrecht, Treaty of, iii. 75 
 Santeuil, Canon, i. 136 
 Savary, M., i. 183 
 Savoie, Due de, i. 254 
 
 Saxony, Elector of, i. 134 Valcntinois, Mme. de, i. 128 
 
 Scose, Due de, iv. 292 Valincourt, M., iv. 34 
 
 Seraphim, Father, i. 114 Varcnne, M. la, i. 144 
 
 Shrewsbury, Duke of, iii. 69 Vassor, M., i. 224 
 
 Sillery, Chev. de, i. 134 Vatteville, Abbe de, i. 307 
 
 Single Tax, ii. 345 Vauban, Marechal, i. 6; ii. 95 
 
 Soubise, Mme. de, i. 209 Vaudemont, 1'rince de, i. 147 
 
 Spain, affairs of, iv. 181 ; admira- Vaugoyon, M. la, i. 46, 48 
 
 tion for, iv. 298 Vendome, Due dc, i. 72, 182; ii. 
 
 Spanish succession, i. 231; ii. 173, 55, 68, 174, 202, 224, 331, 338, 342; 
 
 264, 330, 336; iii. 73 iii. 60-61 
 
 Stair, Lord, iii. 315 Verrier, M., iv. 344 
 
 Stanhope, Lord, ii. 336, 342 Vidames, i. 162 
 
 Starembcrg, Marshal, ii. 332, 338 Villars, M. de, i. 21, 153 
 
 Stockjobbing, inception of, iv. 161, Villars, Marechal, ii. 52, 282, 319, 
 
 169, 170 325, 327; iii. 346; iv. 60, 170 
 
 Villavicioza, battle of, ii. 340 
 
 T Villena, Marquis de, iii. 388 
 
 Tellier, Fere, ii. 240, 347, 367; iii. Villeroy, Marechal de, i. 43. 253: 
 
 80, 208, 264, 269; iv. 115 " 8 : HL 2I . 304; iv. 21, 60, 75, 
 
 Tcncin, Abbe, iv. 143 '47-SQ, 212-15, 300-16, 320-26, 347 
 
 Tcssc, Count, i. 166, 251; ii. 38, Voisin, M., ii. 276 
 
 139; iv. 144 Voltaire, iii. 332 
 
 Tobacco, use of, by ladies, i. no Vrilliere, M. la, i. 219; ii. 311; iv. 
 
 Torcy, M., iv. 231, 377 22 . l6 . 39<> 
 Toulouse, Comte de, i. 6; ii. 19, 
 
 48; iv. 34, 40, 53, 72, 105, 366 W 
 
 Trappe, M. de la, i. 52, 123, 155, William III., i. 9, 41, 90, 135, 150, 
 
 172, 229 223, 232, 304, 315 
 
 Turenne, Marechal de, i. 330 Winter severe, ii. 209
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 
 
 Return this material to the library 
 
 from which it was borrowed. 
 
 2 

 
 A 001429947