summaryrefslogtreecommitdiff
path: root/old/files/relative.htm
blob: be419535468ad2cc534303416b9546608a014d8c (plain) 
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      Memoirs of the Court Of Louis XIV. And Of The Regency,
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    <h2>
      MEMOIRS OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XIV. <br />AND OF THE REGENCY
    </h2>
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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Memoirs of the Louis XIV. and The
Regency, Complete, by Elizabeth-Charlotte, Duchesse d'Orleans

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Title: The Memoirs of the Louis XIV. and The Regency, Complete

Author: Elizabeth-Charlotte, Duchesse d'Orleans

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Last Updated: April 3, 2013

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</pre>
    <h1>
      MEMOIRS OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XIV. <br />AND OF THE REGENCY
    </h1>
    <h3>
      Being the Secret Memoirs of the Mother of the Regent,<br /> MADAME
      ELIZABETH-CHARLOTTE OF BAVARIA,<br /> DUCHESSE D'ORLEANS.
    </h3>
    <h3>
      Complete
    </h3>
    <p>
      <a name="image-0001" id="image-0001">
      <!-- IMG --></a>
    </p>
    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
      <img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Bookcover " width="100%" /><br />
    </div>
    <!-- IMAGE END -->
    <p>
      <a name="image-0002" id="image-0002">
      <!-- IMG --></a>
    </p>
    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
      <img src="images/titlepage.jpg" alt="Titlepage " width="100%" /><br />
    </div>
    <!-- IMAGE END -->
    <hr />
    <h2>
      CONTENTS
    </h2>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> BOOK 1. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT01"> SECTION I. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT02"> SECTION II.&mdash;LOUIS XIV. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT03"> SECTION III.&mdash;MADEMOISELLE DE FONTANGE.
      </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT04"> SECTION IV.-MADAME DE LA VALLIERE. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT05"> SECTION V.&mdash;MADAME DE MONTESPAN </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT06"> SECTION VI.&mdash;MADAME DE MAINTENON. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT07"> SECTION VII.&mdash;THE QUEEN&mdash;CONSORT OF
      LOUIS XIV. </a>
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> BOOK 2. </a>
    </p>
    <p>
      <br />
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT08"> SECTION VIII.&mdash;PHILIPPE I., DUC D'ORLEANS.
      </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT09"> SECTION IX.&mdash;PHILIPPE II., DUC D' ORLEANS,
      REGENT OF FRANCE. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT10"> SECTION X.&mdash;THE AFFAIRS OF THE REGENCY.
      </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT11"> SECTION XI.&mdash;THE DUCHESSE D'ORLEANS, WIFE
      OF THE REGENT. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT12"> SECTION XII.&mdash;MARIE-ANNE CHRISTINE VICTOIRE
      OF BAVARIA, THE FIRST DAUPHINE. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT13"> SECTION XIII.&mdash;ADELAIDE OF SAVOY, THE
      SECOND DAUPHINE. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT14"> SECTION XIV.&mdash;THE FIRST DAUPHIN. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT15"> SECTION XV.&mdash;THE DUKE OF BURGUNDY, THE
      SECOND DAUPHIN. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT16"> SECTION XVI.&mdash;PETITE MADAME. </a>
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> BOOK 3. </a>
    </p>
    <p>
      <br />
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT17"> SECTION XVII.&mdash;HENRIETTA OF ENGLAND, THE
      FIRST WIFE OF MONSIEUR, BROTHER OF LOUIS XIV. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT18"> SECTION XVIII.&mdash;THE DUC DE BERRI. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT19"> SECTION XIX.&mdash;THE DUCHESSE DE BERRI. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT20"> SECTION XX.&mdash;MADEMOISELLE D'ORLEANS,
      LOUISE-ADELAIDE DE CHARTRES. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT21"> SECTION XXI.&mdash;MADEMOISELLE DE VALOIS,
      CHARLOTTE-AGLAE, CONSORT OF THE PRINCE OF MODENA. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT22"> SECTION XXII.&mdash;THE ILLEGITIMATE CHILDREN OF
      THE REGENT, DUC D'ORLEANS. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT23"> SECTION XXIII.&mdash;THE CHEVALIER DE LORRAINE.
      </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT24"> SECTION XXIV.&mdash;PHILIP V., KING OF SPAIN.
      </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT25"> SECTION XXV.&mdash;THE DUCHESSE
      LOUISE-FRANCISQUE, CONSORT OF LOUIS III., DUC DE BOURBON. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT26"> SECTION XXVI.&mdash;THE YOUNGER DUCHESS. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT27"> SECTION XXVII.&mdash;LOUIS III., DUC DE BOURBON.
      </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT28"> SECTION XXVIII.&mdash;FRANCOIS-LOUIS, PRINCE DE
      CONTI. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT29"> SECTION XXIX.&mdash;THE GREAT PRINCESSE DE
      CONTI, DAUGHTER OF LA VALLIERE. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT30"> SECTION XXX.&mdash;THE PRINCESS PALATINE,
      MARIE-THERESE DE BOURBON, WIFE OF FRANCOIS-LOUIS, </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT31"> SECTION XXXI.&mdash;LOUISE-ELIZABETH, PRINCESSE
      DE CONTI, CONSORT OF LOUIE-ARMAND DE CONTI. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT32"> SECTION XXXII.&mdash;LOUIE-ARMAND, PRINCE DE
      CONTI. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT33"> SECTION XXXIII.&mdash;THE ABBE DUBOIS. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT34"> SECTION XXXIV.&mdash;MR. LAW. </a>
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> BOOK 4. </a>
    </p>
    <p>
      <br />
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT35"> SECTION XXXV.&mdash;VICTOR AMADEUS, KING OF
      SICILY. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT36"> SECTION XXXVI.&mdash;THE GRAND DUCHESS, WIFE OF
      COSMO II. OF FLORENCE. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT37"> SECTION XXXVII.&mdash;THE DUCHESSE DE LORRAINE,
      ELIZABETH-CHARLOTTE PHILIPPINE D'ORLEANS, CONSORT OF LEOPOLD
      JOSEPH-CHARLES DE LORRAINE. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT38"> SECTION XXXVIII.&mdash;THE DUC DU MAINE,
      LOUIS-AUGUSTUS. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT39"> SECTION XXXIX.&mdash;THE DUCHESSE DU MAINE,
      LOUISE-BENOITE, DAUGHTER OF HENRI-JULES DE CONDE. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT40"> SECTION XL.&mdash;LOUVOIS </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT41"> SECTION XLI.&mdash;LOUIS XV. </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2H_SECT42"> SECTION XLII.&mdash;ANECDOTES AND HISTORICAL
      PARTICULARS RELATING TO VARIOUS PERSONS. </a>
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <h2>
      ILLUSTRATIONS
    </h2>
    <table summary="">
      <tr>
        <td>
          <p class="toc">
            <a href="#image-0001"> Bookcover </a>
          </p>
          <p class="toc">
            <a href="#image-0002"> Titlepage </a>
          </p>
          <p class="toc">
            <a href="#image-0003"> Duchesse D'orleans and Her Children </a>
          </p>
          <p class="toc">
            <a href="#image-0004"> Louis XIV. </a>
          </p>
          <p class="toc">
            <a href="#image-0005"> The Regent and his Mother </a>
          </p>
          <p class="toc">
            <a href="#image-0006"> Princesse de Conti </a>
          </p>
          <p class="toc">
            <a href="#image-0007"> Overturn Here, You Blockhead </a>
          </p>
          <p class="toc">
            <a href="#image-0008"> Duchesse Du Maine </a>
          </p>
        </td>
      </tr>
    </table>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"></a>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <h2>
      BOOK 1.
    </h2>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF">
      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      PREFACE.
    </h2>
    <p>
      The Duchesse d'Orleans, commonly though incorrectly styled the Princess of
      Bavaria, was known to have maintained a very extensive correspondence with
      her relations and friends in different parts of Europe. Nearly eight
      hundred of her letters, written to the Princess Wilhelmina Charlotte of
      Wales and the Duke Antoine-Ulric of Brunswick, were found amongst the
      papers left by the Duchess Elizabeth of Brunswick at her death, in 1767.
      These appeared to be so curious that the Court of Brunswick ordered De
      Praun, a Privy Councillor, to make extracts of such parts as were most
      interesting. A copy of his extracts was sent to France, where it remained
      a long time without being published. In 1788, however, an edition
      appeared, but so mutilated and disfigured, either through the prudence of
      the editor or the scissors of the censor, that the more piquant traits of
      the correspondence had entirely disappeared. The bold, original
      expressions of the German were modified and enfeebled by the timid
      translator, and all the names of individuals and families were suppressed,
      except when they carried with them no sort of responsibility. A great many
      passages of the original correspondence were omitted, while, to make up
      for the deficiencies, the editor inserted a quantity of pedantic and
      useless notes. In spite of all these faults and the existence of more
      faithful editions, this translation was reprinted in 1807. The existence
      of any other edition being unknown to its editor, it differed in nothing
      from the preceding, except that the dates of some of the letters were
      suppressed, a part of the notes cut out, and some passages added from the
      Memoirs of Saint-Simon, together with a life, or rather panegyric, of the
      Princess, which bore no slight resemblance to a village homily.
    </p>
    <p>
      A copy of the extracts made by M. de Praun fell by some chance into the
      hands of Count de Veltheim, under whose direction they were published at
      Strasburg, in 1789, with no other alterations than the correction of the
      obsolete and vicious orthography of the Princess.
    </p>
    <p>
      In 1789 a work was published at Dantzick, in Germany, entitled,
      Confessions of the Princess Elizabeth-Charlotte of Orleans, extracted from
      her letters addressed, between the years 1702 and 1722, to her former
      governess, Madame de Harling, and her husband. The editor asserts that
      this correspondence amounted to nearly four hundred letters. A great part
      of these are only repetitions of what she had before written to the
      Princess of Wales and the Duke of Brunswick. Since that period no new
      collections have appeared, although it is sufficiently well known that
      other manuscripts are in existence.
    </p>
    <p>
      In 1820 M. Schutz published at Leipsig the Life and Character of
      Elizabeth-Charlotte, Duchesse d'Orleans, with an Extract of the more
      remarkable parts of her Correspondence. This is made up of the two German
      editions of 1789 and 1791; but the editor adopted a new arrangement, and
      suppressed such of the dates and facts as he considered useless. His
      suppressions, however, were not very judicious; without dates one is at a
      loss to know to what epoch the facts related by the Princess ought to be
      referred, and the French proper names are as incorrect as in the edition
      of Strasburg.
    </p>
    <p>
      Feeling much surprise that in France there should have been no more
      authentic edition of the correspondence of the Regent-mother than the
      miserable translation of 1788 and 1807, we have set about rendering a
      service to the history of French manners by a new and more faithful
      edition. The present is a translation of the Strasburg edition, arranged
      in a more appropriate order, with the addition of such other passages as
      were contained in the German collections. The dates have been inserted
      wherever they appeared necessary, and notes have been added wherever the
      text required explanation, or where we wished to compare the assertions of
      the Princess with other testimonies. The Princess, in the salons of the
      Palais Royal, wrote in a style not very unlike that which might be
      expected in the present day from the tenants of its garrets. A more
      complete biography than any which has hitherto been drawn up is likewise
      added to the present edition. In other respects we have faithfully
      followed the original Strasburg edition. The style of the Duchess will be
      sometimes found a little singular, and her chit-chat indiscreet and often
      audacious; but we cannot refuse our respect to the firmness and propriety
      with which she conducted herself in the midst of a hypocritical and
      corrupt Court. The reader, however, must form his own judgment on the
      correspondence of this extraordinary woman; our business is, not to excite
      a prejudice in favour of or against her, but merely to present him with a
      faithful copy of her letters.
    </p>
    <p>
      Some doubts were expressed about the authenticity of the correspondence
      when the mutilated edition of 1788 appeared; but these have long since
      subsided, and its genuineness is no longer questioned.
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
    </p>
    <h2>
      SECRET COURT MEMOIRS.
    </h2>
    <h3>
      MADAME ELIZABETH-CHARLOTTE OF BAVARIA, DUCHESSE D' ORLEANS.
    </h3>
    <p>
      <a name="image-0003" id="image-0003">
      <!-- IMG --></a>
    </p>
    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
      <img src="images/p116.jpg" alt="Duchesse D'orleans and Her Children "
      width="100%" /><br />
    </div>
    <!-- IMAGE END -->
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_SECT01" id="link2H_SECT01">
      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION I.
    </h2>
    <p>
      If my father had loved me as well as I loved him he would never have sent
      me into a country so dangerous as this, to which I came through pure
      obedience and against my own inclination. Here duplicity passes for wit,
      and frankness is looked upon as folly. I am neither cunning nor
      mysterious. I am often told I lead too monotonous a life, and am asked why
      I do not take a part in certain affairs. This is frankly the reason: I am
      old; I stand more in need of repose than of agitation, and I will begin
      nothing that I cannot, easily finish. I have never learned to govern; I am
      not conversant with politics, nor with state affairs, and I am now too far
      advanced in years to learn things so difficult. My son, I thank God, has
      sense enough, and can direct these things without me; besides, I should
      excite too much the jealousy of his wife&mdash;[Marie-Francoise de
      Bourbon, the legitimate daughter of Louis XIV. and of Madame de Montespan,
      Duchesse d'Orleans.]&mdash;and his eldest daughter,&mdash;[Marie-Louise-Elizabeth
      d'Orleans, married on the 17th of July, 1710, to Charles of France, Duc de
      Berri.]&mdash;whom he loves better than me; eternal quarrels would ensue,
      which would not at all suit my views. I have been tormented enough, but I
      have always forborne, and have endeavoured to set a proper example to my
      son's wife and his daughter; for this kingdom has long had the misfortune
      to be too much governed by women, young and old. It is high time that men
      should now assume the sway, and this is the reason which has determined me
      not to intermeddle. In England, perhaps, women may reign without
      inconvenience; in France, men alone should do so, in order that things may
      go on well. Why should I torment myself by day and by night? I seek only
      peace and repose; all that were mine are dead. For whom should I care? My
      time is past. I must try to live smoothly that I may die tranquilly; and
      in great public affairs it is difficult, indeed, to preserve one's
      conscience spotless.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was born at Heidelberg (1652), in the seventh month. I am unquestionably
      very ugly; I have no features; my eyes are small, my nose is short and
      thick, my lips long and flat. These do not constitute much of a
      physiognomy. I have great hanging cheeks and a large face; my stature is
      short and stout; my body and my thighs, too, are short, and, upon the
      whole, I am truly a very ugly little object. If I had not a good heart, no
      one could endure me. To know whether my eyes give tokens of my possessing
      wit, they must be examined with a microscope, or it will be difficult to
      judge. Hands more ugly than mine are not perhaps to be found on the whole
      globe. The King has often told me so, and has made me laugh at it
      heartily; for, not being able to flatter even myself that I possessed any
      one thing which could be called pretty, I resolved to be the first to
      laugh at my own ugliness; this has succeeded as well as I could have
      wished, and I must confess that I have seldom been at a loss for something
      to laugh at. I am naturally somewhat melancholy; when anything happens to
      afflict me, my left side swells up as if it were filled with water. I am
      not good at lying in bed; as soon as I awake I must get up. I seldom
      breakfast, and then only on bread and butter. I take neither chocolate,
      nor coffee, nor tea, not being able to endure those foreign drugs. I am
      German in all my habits, and like nothing in eating or drinking which is
      not conformable to our old customs. I eat no soup but such as I can take
      with milk, wine, or beer. I cannot bear broth; whenever I eat anything of
      which it forms a part, I fall sick instantly, my body swells, and I am
      tormented with colics. When I take broth alone, I am compelled to vomit,
      even to blood, and nothing can restore the tone to my stomach but ham and
      sausages.
    </p>
    <p>
      I never had anything like French manners, and I never could assume them,
      because I always considered it an honour to be born a German, and always
      cherished the maxims of my own country, which are seldom in favor here. In
      my youth I loved swords and guns much better than toys. I wished to be a
      boy, and this desire nearly cost me my life; for, having heard that Marie
      Germain had become a boy by dint of jumping, I took such terrible jumps
      that it is a miracle I did not, on a hundred occasions, break my neck. I
      was very gay in my youth, for which reason I was called, in German,
      Rauschenplatten-gnecht. The Dauphins of Bavaria used to say, "My poor dear
      mamma" (so she used always to address me), "where do you pick up all the
      funny things you know?"
    </p>
    <p>
      I remember the birth of the King of England
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [George Louis, Duke of Brunswick Hanover, born the 28th of May,
     1660; proclaimed King of England the 12th of August, 1714, by the
     title of George I.]
</pre>
    <p>
      as well as if it were only yesterday (1720). I was curious and
      mischievous. They had put a doll in a rosemary bush for the purpose of
      making me believe it was the child of which my aunt
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [Sophia of Bavaria, married, in 1658, to the Elector of Hanover, was
     the paternal aunt of Madame.  She was the granddaughter of James I,
     and was thus declared the first in succession to the crown of
     England, by Act of Parliament, 23rd March, 1707.]
</pre>
    <p>
      had just lain in; at the same moment I heard the cries of the Electress,
      who was then in the pains of childbirth. This did not agree with the story
      which I had been told of the baby in the rosemary bush; I pretended,
      however, to believe it, but crept to my aunt's chamber as if I was playing
      at hide-and-seek with little Bulau and Haxthausen, and concealed myself
      behind a screen which was placed before the door and near the chimney.
      When the newly born infant was brought to the fire I issued from my
      hiding-place. I deserved to be flogged, but in honour of the happy event I
      got quit for a scolding.
    </p>
    <p>
      The monks of the Convent of Ibourg, to revenge themselves for my having
      unintentionally betrayed them by telling their Abbot that they had been
      fishing in a pond under my window, a thing expressly forbidden by the
      Abbot, once poured out white wine for me instead of water. I said, "I do
      not know what is the matter with this water; the more of it I put into my
      wine the stronger it becomes." The monks replied that it was very good
      wine. When I got up from the table to go into the garden, I should have
      fallen into the pond if I had not been held up; I threw myself upon the
      ground and fell fast asleep immediately. I was then carried into my
      chamber and put to bed. I did not awake until nine o'clock in the evening,
      when I remembered all that had passed. It was on a Holy Thursday; I
      complained to the Abbot of the trick which had been played me by the
      monks, and they were put into prison. I have often been laughed at about
      this Holy Thursday.
    </p>
    <p>
      My aunt, our dear Electress (of Hanover), being at the Hague, did not
      visit the Princess Royal;
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [Maria-Henrietta Stuart, daughter of Charles I. of England, and of
     Henriette-Marie of France, married, in 1660, to William of Nassau,
     Prince of Orange; she lost her husband in 1660, and was left
     pregnant with William-Henry of Nassau, Prince of Orange, and
     afterwards, by the Revolution of 1688, King of England.  This
     Princess was then preceptress of her son, the Stadtholder of
     Holland.]
</pre>
    <p>
      but the Queen of Bohemia
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [Elizabeth Stuart, daughter of James I. of England, widow of
     Frederic V., Duke of Bavaria, Count Palatine of the Rhine, King of
     Bohemia until the year 1621, mother of the Duchess of Hanover.]
</pre>
    <p>
      did, and took me with her. Before I set out, my aunt said to me, "Lizette,
      now take care not to behave as you do in general, and do not wander away
      so that you cannot be found; follow the Queen step by step, so that she
      may not have to wait for you."
    </p>
    <p>
      I replied, "Oh, aunt, you shall hear how well I will behave myself."
    </p>
    <p>
      When we arrived at the Princess Royal's, whom I did not know, I saw her
      son, whom I had often played with; after having gazed for a long time at
      his mother without knowing who she was, I went back to see if I could find
      any one to tell me what was this lady's name. Seeing only the Prince of
      Orange, I accosted him thus,&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "Pray, tell me who is that woman with so tremendous a nose?"
    </p>
    <p>
      He laughed and answered, "That is the Princess Royal, my mother."
    </p>
    <p>
      I was quite stupefied. That I might compose myself, Mademoiselle Heyde
      took me with the Prince into the Princess's bedchamber, where we played at
      all sorts of games. I had told them to call me when the Queen should be
      ready to go, and we were rolling upon a Turkey carpet when I was summoned;
      I arose in great haste and ran into the hall; the Queen was already in the
      antechamber. Without losing a moment, I seized the robe of the Princess
      Royal, and, making her a low curtsey, at the same moment I placed myself
      directly before her, and followed the Queen step by step to her carriage;
      everybody was laughing, but I had no notion of what it was at. When we
      returned home, the Queen went to find my aunt, and, seating herself upon
      the bed, burst into a loud laugh.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Lizette," said she, "has made a delightful visit." And then she told all
      that I had done, which made the Electress laugh even more than the Queen.
      She called me to her and said,&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "Lizette, you have done right; you have revenged us well for the
      haughtiness of the Princess."
    </p>
    <p>
      My brother would have had me marry the Margrave of Dourlach, but I had no
      inclination towards him because he was affected, which I never could bear.
      He knew very well that I was not compelled to refuse him, for he was
      married long before they thought of marrying me to Monsieur. Still he
      thought fit to send to me a Doctor of Dourlach, for the purpose of asking
      me whether he ought to obey his father and marry the Princess of Holstein.
      I replied that he could not do better than to obey his father; that he had
      promised me nothing, nor had I pledged myself to him; but that,
      nevertheless, I was obliged to him for the conduct he had thought fit to
      adopt. This is all that passed between us.
    </p>
    <p>
      Once they wanted to give me to the Duke of Courlande; it was my aunt
      d'Hervod who wished to make that match. He was in love with Marianne, the
      daughter of Duke Ulric of Wurtemberg; but his father and mother would not
      allow him to marry her because they had fixed their eyes on me. When,
      however, he came back from France on his way home, I made such an
      impression on him that he would not hear of marriage, and requested
      permission to join the army.
    </p>
    <p>
      I once received a very sharp scolding in a short journey from Mannheim to
      Heidelberg. I was in the carriage with my late father, who had with him an
      envoy, from the Emperor, the Count of Konigseck. At this time I was as
      thin and light as I am now fat and heavy. The jolting of the carriage
      threw me from my seat, and I fell upon the Count; it was not my fault, but
      I was nevertheless severely rebuked for it, for my father was not a man to
      be trifled with, and it was always necessary to be very circumspect in his
      presence.
    </p>
    <p>
      When I think of conflagrations I am seized with a shivering fit, for I
      remember how the Palatinate was ravaged for more than three months.
      Whenever I went to sleep I used to think I saw Heidelberg all in flames;
      then I used to wake with a start, and I very narrowly escaped an illness
      in consequence of those outrages.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [The burning of the Palatinate in 1674&mdash;a horrible devastation
     commanded by Louis, and executed by Turenne.]
</pre>
    <p>
      Upon my arrival in France I was made to hold a conference with three
      bishops. They all differed in their creeds, and so, taking the
      quintessence of their opinions, I formed a religion of my own.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was purely from the affection I bore to her that I refused to take
      precedence of our late Electress; but making always a wide distinction
      between her aid and the Duchess of Mecklenbourg, as well as our Electress
      of Hanover, I did not hesitate to do so with respect to both the latter. I
      also would not take precedence of my mother. In my childhood I wished to
      bear her train, but she would never permit me.
    </p>
    <p>
      I have been treated ill ever since my marriage this is in some degree the
      fault of the Princess Palatine,&mdash;[Anne de Gonzague, Princess
      Palatine, who took so active a part in the troubles of the Fronde.]&mdash;who
      prepared my marriage contract; and it is by the contract that the
      inheritance is governed. All persons bearing the title of Madame have
      pensions from the King; but as they have been of the same amount for a
      great many years past they are no longer sufficient.
    </p>
    <p>
      I would willingly have married the Prince of Orange, for by that union I
      might have hoped to remain near my dear Electress (of Hanover).
    </p>
    <p>
      Upon my arrival at Saint-Germain I felt as if I had fallen from the
      clouds. The Princess Palatine went to Paris and there fixed me. I put as
      good a face upon the affair as was possible; I saw very well that I did
      not please my husband much, and indeed that could not be wondered at,
      considering my ugliness; however, I resolved to conduct myself in such a
      manner towards Monsieur that he should become accustomed to me by my
      attentions, and eventually should be enabled to endure me. Immediately
      upon my arrival, the King came to see me at the Chateau Neuf, where
      Monsieur and I lived; he brought with him the Dauphin, who was then a
      child of about ten years old. As soon as I had finished my toilette the
      King returned to the old Chateau, where he received me in the Guards'
      hall, and led me to the Queen, whispering at the same time,&mdash;"Do not
      be frightened, Madame; she will be more afraid of you than you of her."
      The King felt so much the embarrassment of my situation that he would not
      quit me; he sat by my side, and whenever it was necessary for me to rise,
      that is to say, whenever a Duke or a Prince entered the apartment, he gave
      me a gentle push in the side without being perceived.
    </p>
    <p>
      According to the custom of Paris, when a marriage is made, all property is
      in common; but the husband has the entire control over it. That only which
      has been brought by way of dowry is taken into the account; for this
      reason I never knew how much my husband received with me. After his death,
      when I expected to gain my cause at Rome and to receive some money, the
      disagreeable old Maintenon asked me in the King's name to promise that if
      I gained the cause I would immediately cede the half of the property to my
      son; and in case of refusal I was menaced with the King's displeasure. I
      laughed at this, and replied that I did not know why they threatened me,
      for that my son was in the course of nature my heir, but that it was at
      least just that he should stay until my death before he took possession of
      my property, and that I knew the King was too equitable to require of me
      anything but what was consistent with justice. I soon afterwards received
      the news of the loss of my cause, and I was not sorry for it, on account
      of the circumstance I have just related.
    </p>
    <p>
      When the Abby de Tesse had convinced the Pope that his people had decided
      without having read our papers, and that they had accepted 50,000 crowns
      from the Grand Duke to pronounce against me, he began weeping, and said,
      "Am I not an unhappy man to be obliged to trust such persons?" This will
      show what sort of a character the Pope was.
    </p>
    <p>
      When I arrived in France I had only an allowance of a hundred louis d'or
      for my pocket-money; and this money was always consumed in advance. After
      my mother's death, when my husband received money from the Palatinate, he
      increased this allowance to two hundred louis; and once, when I was in his
      good graces, he gave me a thousand louis. Besides this, the King had given
      me annually one thousand louis up to the year before the marriage of my
      son. That supported me, but as I would not consent to the marriage I was
      deprived of this sum, and it has never been restored to me. On my first
      journey to Fontainebleau, the King would have given me 2,000 pistoles, but
      that Monsieur begged him to keep half of them for Madame, afterwards the
      Queen of Spain.&mdash;[Marie-Louise d'Orleans, born in 1662, married, in
      1679, to Charles IL, King of Spain.]
    </p>
    <p>
      I cared very little about it, and, nevertheless, went to Fontainebleau,
      where I lost all my money at Hoca. Monsieur told me, for the purpose of
      vexing me, of the good office he had done me with the King; I only laughed
      at it, and told him that, if Madame had chosen to accept the thousand
      pistoles from my hands, I would very freely have given them to her.
      Monsieur was quite confused at this, and, by way of repairing the offence
      he had committed, he took upon himself the payment of 600 louis d'or,
      which I had lost over and above the thousand pistoles.
    </p>
    <p>
      I receive now only 456,000 francs, which is exactly consumed within the
      year; if, they could have given me any less they would. I would not be
      thought to make claims to which I am not entitled, but it should be
      remembered that Monsieur has had the money of my family.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was very glad when, after the birth of my daughter,
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [Elizabeth-Charlotte d'Orleans, born in 1676, married, in 1697, to
     the Duc de Lorraine.  Philippe d'Orleans, afterwards Regent of
     France, was born in 1674; there were no other children by this
     marriage.]
</pre>
    <p>
      my husband proposed separate beds; for, to tell the truth, I was never
      very fond of having children. When he proposed it to me, I answered, "Yes,
      Monsieur, I shall be very well contented with the arrangement, provided
      you do not hate me, and that you will continue to behave with some
      kindness to me." He promised, and we were very well satisfied with each
      other. It was, besides, very disagreeable to sleep with Monsieur; he could
      not bear any one to touch him when he was asleep, so that I was obliged to
      lie on the very edge of the bed; whence it sometimes happened that I fell
      out like a sack. I was therefore enchanted when Monsieur proposed to me in
      friendly terms, and without any anger, to lie in separate rooms.
    </p>
    <p>
      I obeyed the late Monsieur by not troubling him with my embraces, and
      always conducted myself towards him with respect and submission.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was a good sort of man, notwithstanding his weaknesses, which, indeed,
      oftener excited my pity than my anger. I must confess that I did
      occasionally express some impatience, but when he begged pardon, it was
      all forgotten.
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame de Fiennes had a considerable stock of wit, and was a great joker;
      her tongue spared no one but me. Perceiving that she treated the King and
      Monsieur with as little ceremony as any other persons, I took her by the
      hand one day, and, leading her apart, I said to her, "Madame, you are very
      agreeable; you have a great deal of wit, and the manner in which you
      display it is pleasant to the King and Monsieur, because they are
      accustomed to you; but to me, who am but just arrived, I cannot say that I
      like it. When any persons entertain themselves at my expense, I cannot
      help being very angry, and it is for this reason that I am going to give
      you a little advice. If you spare me we shall be mighty good friends; but
      if you treat me as I see you treat others, I shall say nothing to you; I
      shall, nevertheless, complain of you to your husband, and if he does not
      restrain you I shall dismiss him."
    </p>
    <p>
      He was my Equerry-in-Ordinary.
    </p>
    <p>
      She promised never to speak of me, and she kept her word.
    </p>
    <p>
      Monsieur often said to me, "How does it happen that Madame de Fiennes
      never says anything severe of you?"
    </p>
    <p>
      I answered, "Because she loves me."
    </p>
    <p>
      I would not tell him what I had done, for he would immediately have
      excited her to attack me.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was called sometimes 'Soeur Pacifique', because I did all in my power to
      maintain harmony between Monsieur and his cousins, La Grande Mademoiselle,
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [Anne-Marie-Louise d'Orleans, Duchesse de Montpensier, and
     Marguerite-Louise d'Orleans, Duchess of Tuscany, daughters of
     Gaston, Duc d'Orleans, but by different wives.]
</pre>
    <p>
      and La Grande Duchesse:
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [Charlotte-Eleonore-Maddleine de la Motte Houdancourt, Duchesse de
     Ventadour; she was gouvernante to Louis XV.]
</pre>
    <p>
      they quarrelled very frequently, and always like children, for the
      slightest trifles.
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame de Ventadour was my Maid of Honour for at least sixteen years. She
      did not quit me until two years after the death of my husband, and then it
      was by a contrivance of old Maintenon; she wished to annoy me because she
      knew I was attached to this lady, who was good and amiable, but not very
      cunning. Old Maintenon succeeded in depriving me of her by means of
      promises and threats, which were conveyed by Soubise, whose son had
      married Madame de Ventadour's daughter, and who was an artful woman. By
      way of recompense she was made gouvernante. They tried, also, to deprive
      me of Madame de Chateau Thiers; the old woman employed all her power
      there, too, but Madame de Chateau Thiers remained faithful to me, without
      telling of these attempts, which I learnt from another source.
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame de Monaco might, perhaps, be fond of forming very close attachments
      of her own sex, and Madame de Maintenon would have put me on the same
      footing; but she did not succeed, and was so much vexed at her
      disappointment that she wept. Afterwards she wanted to make me in love
      with the Chevalier de Vendome, and this project succeeded no better than
      the other. She often said she could not think of what disposition I must
      be, since I cared neither for men nor women, and that the German nation
      must be colder than any other.
    </p>
    <p>
      I like persons of that cool temperament. The poor Dauphine of Bavaria used
      to send all the young coxcombs of the Court to me, knowing that I detested
      such persons, and would be nearly choked with laughter at seeing the
      discontented air with which I talked to them.
    </p>
    <p>
      Falsehood and superstition were never to my taste.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King was in the habit of saying, "Madame cannot endure unequal
      marriages; she always ridicules them."
    </p>
    <p>
      Although there are some most delightful walks at Versailles, no one went
      out either on foot or in carriages but myself; the King observed this, and
      said, "You are the only one who enjoys the beauties of Versailles."
    </p>
    <p>
      All my life, even from my earliest years, I thought myself so ugly that I
      did not like to be looked at. I therefore cared little for dress, because
      jewels and decoration attract attention. As Monsieur loved to be covered
      with diamonds, it was fortunate that I did not regard them, for,
      otherwise, we should have quarrelled about who was to wear them. On grand
      occasions Monsieur used formerly to make me dress in red; I did so, but
      much against my inclination, for I always hated whatever was inconvenient
      to me. He always ordered my dresses, and even used to paint my cheeks
      himself.
    </p>
    <p>
      I made the Countess of Soissons laugh very heartily once. She said to me,
      "How is it, Madame, that you never look in a mirror when you pass it, as
      everybody else does?"
    </p>
    <p>
      I answered, "Because I have too great a regard for myself to be fond of
      seeing myself look as ugly as I really am."
    </p>
    <p>
      I was always attached to the King; and when he did anything disagreeable
      to me it was generally to please Monsieur, whose favourites and my enemies
      did all they could to embroil me with him, and through his means with the
      King, that I might not be able to denounce them. It was natural enough
      that the King should be more inclined to please his brother than me; but
      when Monsieur's conscience reproached him, he repented of having done me
      ill offices with the King, and he confessed this to the King; His Majesty
      would then come to us again immediately, notwithstanding the malicious
      contrivances of old Maintenon.
    </p>
    <p>
      I have always had my own household, although during Monsieur's life I was
      not the mistress of it, because all his favourites derived a share of
      profit from it. Thus no one could buy any employment in my establishment
      without a bribe to Grancey, to the Chevalier de Lorraine, to Cocard, or to
      M. Spied. I troubled myself little about these persons; so long as they
      continued to behave with proper respect towards me, I let them alone; but
      when they presumed to ridicule me, or to give me any trouble, I set them
      to rights without hesitation and as they deserved.
    </p>
    <p>
      Finding that Madame la Marechale de Clerambault was attached to me, they
      removed her, and they placed my daughter under the care of Madame la
      Marechale de Grancey, the creature of my bitterest enemy, the Chevalier de
      Lorraine, whose mistress was the elder sister of this very Grancei. It may
      be imagined how fit an example such a woman was for my daughter; but all
      my prayers, all my remonstrances, were in vain.
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame de Montespan said to me one day that it was a shame I had no
      ambition, and would not take part in anything.
    </p>
    <p>
      I replied, "If a person should have intrigued assiduously to become
      Madame, could not her son permit her to enjoy that rank peaceably? Well,
      then, fancy that I have become so by such means, and leave me to repose."
    </p>
    <p>
      "You are obstinate," said she.
    </p>
    <p>
      "No, Madame," I answered; "but I love quiet, and I look upon all your
      ambition to be pure vanity."
    </p>
    <p>
      I thought she would have burst with spite, so angry was she. She, however,
      continued,&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "But make the attempt and we will assist you."
    </p>
    <p>
      "No," I replied, "Madame, when I think that you, who have a hundred times
      more wit than I, have not been able to maintain your consequence in that
      Court which you love so much, what hope can I, a poor foreigner, have of
      succeeding, who know nothing of intrigue, and like it as little?"
    </p>
    <p>
      She was quite mortified. "Go along," she said, "you are good for nothing."
    </p>
    <p>
      Old Maintenon and her party had instilled into the Dauphine a deep hatred
      against me; by their direction she often said very impertinent things to
      me. They hoped that I should resent them to the Dauphine in such manner as
      to afford her reason to complain to the King of me, and thus draw his
      displeasure upon me. But as I knew the tricks of the old woman and her
      coterie, I resolved not to give them that satisfaction; I only laughed at
      the disobliging manner in which they treated me, and I gave them to
      understand that I thought the ill behaviour of the Dauphine was but a
      trick of her childhood, which she would correct as she grew older. When I
      spoke to her she made me no reply, and laughed at me with the ladies
      attendant upon her.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Ladies," she once said to them, "amuse me; I am tired;" and at the same
      time looked at me disdainfully. I only smiled at her, as if her behaviour
      had no effect upon me.
    </p>
    <p>
      I said, however, to old Maintenon, in a careless tone, "Madame la Dauphine
      receives me ungraciously; I do not intend to quarrel with her, but if she
      should become too rude I shall ask the King if he approves of her
      behaviour."
    </p>
    <p>
      The old woman was alarmed, because she knew very well that the King had
      enjoined the Dauphine always to behave politely to me; she begged me
      immediately not to say a word to the King, assuring me that I should soon
      see the Dauphine's behaviour changed; and indeed, from that time, the
      Dauphine altered her conduct, and lived upon much better terms with me. If
      I had complained to the King of the ill treatment I received from the
      Dauphine he would have been very angry; but she would not have hated me
      the less, and she and her old aunt would have formed means to repay me
      double.
    </p>
    <p>
      Ratzenhausen has the good fortune to be sprung from a very good family;
      the King was always glad to see her, because she made him laugh; she also
      diverted the Dauphine, and Madame de Berri liked her much, and made her
      visit her frequently. It is not surprising that we should be good friends;
      we have been so since our infancy, for I was not nine years old when I
      first became acquainted with her. Of all the old women I know, there is
      not one who keeps up her gaiety like Linor.
    </p>
    <p>
      I often visited Madame de Maintenon, and did all in my power to gain her
      affections, but could never succeed. The Queen of Sicily asked me one day
      if I did not go out with the King in his carriage, as when she was with
      us. I replied to her by some verses (from Racine's Phedre).
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame de Torci told this again to old Maintenon, as if it applied to her,
      which indeed it did, and the King was obliged to look coldly on me for
      some time.
    </p>
    <p>
      During the last three years of his life I had entirely gained my husband
      to myself, so that he laughed at his own weaknesses, and was no longer
      displeased at being joked with. I had suffered dreadfully before; but from
      this period he confided in me entirely, and, always took my part. By his
      death I saw the result of the care and pains of thirty years vanish. After
      Monsieur's decease, the King sent to ask me whither I wished to retire,
      whether to a convent in Paris, or to Maubuisson, or elsewhere. I replied
      that as I had the honour to be of the royal house I could not live but
      where the King was, and that I intended to go directly to Versailles. The
      King was pleased at this, and came to see me. He somewhat mortified me by
      saying that he sent to ask me whither I wished to go because he had not
      imagined that I should choose to stay where he was. I replied that I did
      not know who could have told His Majesty anything so false and injurious,
      and that I had a much more sincere respect and attachment for His Majesty
      than those who had thus falsely accused me. The King then dismissed all
      the persons present, and we had a long explanation, in the course of which
      the King told me I hated Madame de Maintenon. I confessed that I did hate
      her, but only through my attachment for him, and because she did me wrong
      to His Majesty; nevertheless, I added that, if it were agreeable to him
      that I should be reconciled to her, I was ready to become so. The good
      lady was not prepared for this, or she would not have suffered the King to
      come to me; he was, however, so satisfied that he remained favourable to
      me up to his last hour. He made old Maintenon come, and said to her,
      "Madame is willing to make friends with you." He then caused us to
      embrace, and there the scene ended. He required her also to live upon good
      terms with me, which she did in appearance, but secretly played me all
      sorts of tricks. It was at this time a matter of indifference to me
      whether I went to live at Montargis or not, but I would not have the
      appearance of doing so in consequence of any disgrace, and as if I had
      committed some offence for which I was driven from the Court. I had reason
      to fear, besides, that at the end of two days' journey I might be left to
      die of hunger, and to avoid this risk I chose rather to be reconciled to
      the King. As to going into a convent, I never once thought of it, although
      it was that which old Maintenon most desired. The Castle of Montargis is
      my jointure; at Orleans there is no house. St. Cloud is not a part of the
      hereditary property, but was bought by Monsieur with his own money.
      Therefore my jointure produces nothing; all that I have to live on comes
      from the King and my son. At the commencement of my widowhood I was left
      unpaid, and there was an arrear of 300,000 francs due to me, which were
      not paid until after the death of Louis XIV. What, then, would have become
      of me if I had chosen to retire to Montargis? My household expenses
      amounted annually to 298,758 livres.
    </p>
    <p>
      Although Monsieur received considerable wealth with me, I was obliged,
      after his death, to give up to my son the jewels, movables, pictures&mdash;in
      short, all that had come from my family; otherwise I should not have had
      enough to live according to my rank and to keep up my establishment, which
      is large. In my opinion, to do this is much better than to wear diamonds.
    </p>
    <p>
      My income is not more than 456,000 livres; and yet, if it please God, I
      will not leave a farthing of debt. My son has just made me more rich by
      adding 150,000 livres to my pension (1719). The cause of almost all the
      evil which prevails here is the passion of women for play. I have often
      been told to my face, "You are good for nothing; you do not like play."
    </p>
    <p>
      If by my influence I can serve any unfortunate persons with the different
      branches of the Government, I always do so willingly; in case of success I
      rejoice; in a less fortunate event I console myself by the belief that it
      was not the will of God.
    </p>
    <p>
      After the King's death I repaired to St. Cyr to pay a visit to Madame de
      Maintenon. On my entering the room she said to me, "Madame, what do you
      come here for?"
    </p>
    <p>
      I replied, "I come to mingle my tears with those of her whom the King I so
      much deplore loved most.&mdash;that is yourself, Madame."
    </p>
    <p>
      "Yes, indeed," she said, "he loved me well; but he loved you, also."
    </p>
    <p>
      I replied, "He did me the honour to say that, he would always distinguish
      me by his friendship, although everything was done to make him hate me."
    </p>
    <p>
      I wished thus to let her understand that I was, quite aware of her
      conduct, but that, being a Christian, I could pardon my enemies. If she
      possessed any sensibility she must have felt some pain at thus. receiving
      the forgiveness of one whom she had incessantly persecuted.
    </p>
    <p>
      The affair of Loube is only a small part of what I have suffered here.
    </p>
    <p>
      I have now no circle, for ladies a tabouret&mdash;[Ladies having the
      privilege of seats upon small stools in the presence.]&mdash;seldom come
      to me, not liking to appear but in full dress. I begged them to be present
      as usual at an audience, which I was to give to the ambassador of Malta,
      but not one of them came. When the late Monsieur and the King were alive,
      they were more assiduous; they were not then so much accustomed to full
      dresses, and when they did not come in sufficient numbers Monsieur
      threatened to tell the King of it.
    </p>
    <p>
      But this is enough, as M. Biermann said, after having preached four hours
      together.
    </p>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_SECT02" id="link2H_SECT02">
      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION II.&mdash;LOUIS XIV.
    </h2>
    <p>
      <a name="image-0004" id="image-0004">
      <!-- IMG --></a>
    </p>
    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
      <img src="images/louis14.jpg" alt="Louis XIV. " width="100%" /><br />
    </div>
    <!-- IMAGE END -->
    <p>
      When the King pleased he could be one of the most agreeable and amiable
      men in the world; but it was first necessary that he should be intimately
      acquainted with persons. He used to joke in a very comical and amusing
      manner.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King, though by no means perfect, possessed some great and many fine
      qualities; and by no means deserved to be defamed and despised by his
      subjects after his death.
    </p>
    <p>
      While he lived he was flattered, even to idolatry.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was so much tormented on my account that I could not have wondered if
      he had hated me most cordially. However, he did not; but, on the contrary,
      he discovered that all which was said against me sprang from malice and
      jealousy.
    </p>
    <p>
      If he had not been so unfortunate as to fall into the hands of two of the
      worst women in the world Montespan, and that old Maintenon, who was even
      worse than the other, he would have been one of the best kings that ever
      lived; for all the evil that he ever did proceeded from those two women,
      and not from himself.
    </p>
    <p>
      Although I approved of many things he did, I could not agree with him when
      he maintained that it was vulgar to love one's relations. Montespan had
      instilled this into him, in order that she might get rid of all his
      legitimate blood connections, and might suffer none about him but her
      bastards; she had even carried matters so far as to seek to confine the
      royal favour to her offspring or her creatures.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our King loved the chase passionately; particularly hawking and stag
      hunting.
    </p>
    <p>
      One day all the world came to Marly to offer their compliments of
      condolence; Louis XIV., to get rid of the ceremony, ordered that no
      harangues should be made, but that all the Court should enter without
      distinction and together at one door, and go out by the other. Among them
      came the Bishop of Gap, in a sort of dancing step, weeping large, hot
      tears, and smiling at the same moment, which gave to his face the most
      grotesque appearance imaginable. Madame, the Dauphine, and I, were the
      first who could not restrain ourselves; then the Dauphin and the Duc de
      Berri, and at last the King, and everybody who was in the chamber burst
      out into loud laughter.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King, it must be allowed, gave occasion to great scandal on account of
      his mistresses; but then he very sincerely repented of these offences.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had good natural wit, but was extremely ignorant; and was so much
      ashamed of it that it became the fashion for his courtiers to turn learned
      men into ridicule. Louis XIV. could not endure to hear politics talked; he
      was what they call in this country, 'franc du collier'.
    </p>
    <p>
      At Marly he did not wish the slightest ceremony to prevail. Neither
      ambassadors nor other envoys were ever permitted to come here; he never
      gave audience; there was no etiquette, and the people went about
      'pele-mele'. Out of doors the King made all the men wear their hats; and
      in the drawing-room, everybody, even to the captains, lieutenants, and
      sublieutenants of the foot-guards, were permitted to be seated. This
      custom so disgusted me with the drawing-room that I never went to it.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King used to take off his hat to women of all descriptions, even, the
      common peasants.
    </p>
    <p>
      When he liked people he would tell them everything he had heard; and for
      this reason it was always dangerous to talk to him of that old Maintenon.
    </p>
    <p>
      Although he loved flattery, he was very often ready to ridicule it.
      Montespan and the old woman had spoiled him and hardened his heart against
      his relations, for he was naturally of a very affectionate disposition.
    </p>
    <p>
      Louis XIV., as well as all the rest of his family, with the exception of
      my son, hated reading. Neither the King nor Monsieur had been taught
      anything; they scarcely knew how to read and write. The King was the most
      polite man in his kingdom, but his son and his grandchildren were the most
      rude.
    </p>
    <p>
      In his youth he had played in the comedy of 'Les Visionnaires', which he
      knew by heart, and in which he acted better than the comedians. He did not
      know a note of music; but his ear was so correct that he could play in a
      masterly style on the guitar, and execute whatever he chose.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is not astonishing that the King and Monsieur were brought up in
      ignorance. The Cardinal (Mazarin) wished to reign absolutely; if the
      princes had been better instructed, he would neither have been trusted nor
      employed, and this it was his object to prevent, hoping that he should
      live much longer than he did. The Queen-mother found all that the Cardinal
      did perfectly right; and, besides, it suited her purpose that he should be
      indispensable. It is almost a miracle that the King should have become
      what he afterwards was.
    </p>
    <p>
      I never saw the King beat but two men, and they both well deserved it. The
      first was a valet, who would not let him enter the garden during one of
      his own fetes. The other was a pickpocket, whom the King saw emptying the
      pocket of M. de Villars. Louis XIV., who was on horseback, rode towards
      the thief and struck him with his cane; the rascal cried out, "Murder! I
      shall be killed!" which made us all laugh, and the King laughed, also. He
      had the thief taken, and made him give up the purse, but he did not have
      him hanged.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duchesse de Schomberg was a good deal laughed at because she asked the
      King a hundred questions, which is not the fashion here. The King was not
      well pleased to be talked to; but he never laughed in any one's face.
    </p>
    <p>
      When Louvois proposed to the King for the first time that he should
      appoint Madame Dufresnoy, his mistress, a lady of the Queen's bedchamber,
      His Majesty replied, "Would you, then, have them laugh at both of us?"
      Louvois, however, persisted so earnestly in his request that the King at
      length granted it.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Court of France was extremely agreeable until the King had the
      misfortune to marry that old Maintenon; she withdrew him from company,
      filled him with ridiculous scruples respecting plays, and told him that he
      ought not to see excommunicated persons. In consequence of this she had a
      small theatre erected in her own apartments, where plays were acted twice
      a week before the King. Instead of the dismissed comedians,
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [These dismissed comedians had, as appears by the edition of 1788,
     renounced their profession, and had been admitted to the communion.
     After that, Madame de Maintenon no longer saw any sin in them.]
</pre>
    <p>
      she had the Dauphine, my son, the Duc de Berri, and her own nieces, to
      play; in her opinion this was much better than the real comedians. The
      King, instead of occupying his usual place, was seated behind me in a
      corner, near Madame de Maintenon. This arrangement spoilt all, for the
      consequence was that few people saw him, and the Court was almost
      deserted.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maintenon told me that the King said to her, "Now that I am old my
      children get tired of me and are delighted to find any opportunity of
      fixing me here and going elsewhere for their own amusement; Madame alone
      stays, and I see that she is glad to be with me still." But she did not
      tell me that she had done all in her power to persuade him of the
      contrary, and that the King spoke thus by way of reproaching her for the
      lies she had invented about me. I learned that afterwards from others. If
      the King had been my father I could not have loved him more than I did; I
      was always pleased to be with him.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was fond of the German soldiers, and said that the German horsemen
      displayed more grace in the saddle than those of any other nation.
    </p>
    <p>
      When the King had a design to punish certain libertines, Fagon&mdash;[Guy
      Crescent Fagon, appointed the King's chief physician in 1693, died in
      1718.]&mdash;had an amusing conversation with him. He said,&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "Folks made love long before you came into the world, and they will always
      continue to do so. You cannot prevent them; and when I hear preachers
      talking in the pulpit and railing against such as yield to the influence
      of passion, I think it is very much as if I should say to my phthisical
      patients, 'You must not cough; it is very wrong to spit.' Young folks are
      full of humours, which must be dispersed by one way or another."
    </p>
    <p>
      The King could not refrain from laughing.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was only superstitious in religious matters; for example, with respect
      to the miracles of the Virgin, etc.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had been taught to believe that to make friends with his brother was a
      great political stroke and a fine State device; that it made a part of
      what is called to reign well.
    </p>
    <p>
      Since the time of this King it has not been the custom for ladies to talk
      of the affairs of the State.
    </p>
    <p>
      If the King heard that any one had spoken ill of him, he displayed a proud
      resentment towards the offender; otherwise it was impossible to be more
      polite and affable than he was. His conversation was pleasing in a high
      degree. He had the skill of giving an agreeable turn to everything. His
      manner of talking was natural, without the least affectation, amiable and
      obliging. Although he had not so much courage as Monsieur, he was still no
      coward. His brother said that he had always behaved well in occasions of
      danger; but his chief fault lay in being soon tired of war, and wishing to
      return home.
    </p>
    <p>
      From the time of his becoming so outrageously devout, all amusements were
      suspended for three weeks (at Easter); and before, they were only
      discontinued a fortnight.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King had a peculiarity of disposition which led him easily to behave
      harshly to persons who were disagreeable to such as he loved. It was thus
      that La Valliere was so ill-treated at the instigation of Montespan.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was much amused with the Comte de Grammont,&mdash;[Philibert, Comte de
      Grammont, St. Evremond's hero, and so well known by means of the Memoirs
      of Count Antoine Hamilton, his brother-in-law.]&mdash;who was very
      pleasant. He loaded him with proofs of his kindness, and invited him to
      join in all the excursions to Marly, a decided mark of great favour.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King frequently complained that in his youth he had not been allowed
      to converse with people generally, but it was the fault of his natural
      temper; for Monsieur, who had been brought up with him, used to talk to
      everybody.
    </p>
    <p>
      Louis XIV. used to say, laughingly, to Monsieur that his eternal
      chattering had put him out of conceit with talking. "Ah, mon Dieu!" he
      would say, "must I, to please everybody, say as many silly things as my
      brother?"
    </p>
    <p>
      In general, they would not have been taken for brothers. The King was a
      large man, and my husband a small one: the latter had very effeminate
      inclinations; he loved dress, was very careful of his complexion, and took
      great interest in feminine employments and in ceremonies. The King, on the
      contrary, cared little about dress, loved the chase and shooting, was fond
      of talking of war, and had all manly tastes and habits. Monsieur behaved
      well in battle, but never talked of it; he loved women as companions, and
      was pleased to be with them. The King loved to see them somewhat nearer,
      and not entirely en honneur, as Monsieur did.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [Madame is not a good authority on this point.  The memoirs of the
     time will show either that she cannot have known or must have
     wilfully concealed the intrigues of various kinds in which her
     husband was engaged.]
</pre>
    <p>
      They nevertheless loved one another much, and it was very interesting to
      see them together. They joked each other sensibly and pleasantly, and
      without ever quarrelling.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was never more amused than in a journey which I took with the King to
      Flanders. The Queen and the Dauphine were then alive. As soon as we
      reached a city, each of us retired to our own quarters for a short time,
      and afterwards we went to the theatre, which was commonly so bad that we
      were ready to die with laughing. Among others, I remember that at Dunkirk
      we saw a company playing Mithridates. In speaking to Monimia, Mithridates
      said something which I forget, but which was very absurd. He turned round
      immediately to the Dauphine and said, "I very humbly beg pardon, Madame, I
      assure you it was a slip of the tongue." The laugh which followed this
      apology may be imagined, but it became still greater when the Prince of
      Conti,
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [Louis-Armaud de Bourbon, Prince de Conti, married in 1780 to
     Marie-Anne, commonly called Mademoiselle de Blois, one of the
     legitimated daughters of Louis XIV. by Madame de la Valliere.  She
     was called at Court La Grande Princesse, on account of her beauty
     and her stature.]
</pre>
    <p>
      the husband of La Grande Princesse, who was sitting above the orchestra,
      in a fit of laughing, fell into it. He tried to save himself by the cord,
      and, in doing so, pulled down the curtain over the lamps, set it on fire,
      and burnt a great hole in it. The flames were soon extinguished, and the
      actors, as if they were perfectly indifferent, or unconscious of the
      accident, continued to play on, although we could only see them through
      the hole. When there was no play, we took airings and had collations; in
      short, every day brought something new. After the King's supper we went to
      see magnificent artificial fireworks given by the cities of Flanders.
      Everybody was gay; the Court was in perfect unanimity, and no one thought
      of anything but to laugh and seek amusement.
    </p>
    <p>
      If the King had known the Duchess of Hanover, he would not have been
      displeased at her calling him "Monsieur." As she was a Sovereign Princess,
      he thought it was through pride that she would not call him "Sire," and
      this mortified him excessively, for he was very sensitive on such
      subjects.
    </p>
    <p>
      One day, before Roquelaure was made a Duke, he was out when it rained
      violently, and he ordered his coachman to drive to the Louvre, where the
      entrance was permitted to none but Ambassadors, Princes and Dukes. When
      his carriage arrived at the gate they asked who it was.
    </p>
    <p>
      "A Duke," replied he.
    </p>
    <p>
      "What Duke?" repeated the sentinel.
    </p>
    <p>
      "The Duc d'Epernon," said he.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Which of them?"
    </p>
    <p>
      "The one who died last." And upon this they let him enter. Fearing
      afterwards that he might get into a scrape about it, he went directly to
      the King. "Sire," said he, "it rains so hard that I came in my coach even
      to the foot of your staircase."
    </p>
    <p>
      The King was displeased. "What fool let you enter?" he asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      "A greater fool than your Majesty can imagine," replied Roquelaure, "for
      he admitted me in the name of the Duc d'Epernon who died last."
    </p>
    <p>
      This ended the King's anger and made him laugh very heartily.
    </p>
    <p>
      So great a fear of hell had been instilled into the King that he not only
      thought everybody who did not profess the faith of the Jesuits would be
      damned, but he even thought he was in some danger himself by speaking to
      such persons. If any one was to be ruined with the King, it was only
      necessary to say, "He is a Huguenot or a Jansenist," and his business was
      immediately settled. My son was about to take into his service a gentleman
      whose mother was a professed Jansenist. The Jesuits, by way of embroiling
      my son with the King, represented that he was about to engage a Jansenist
      on his establishment.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King immediately sent for him and said "How is this, nephew? I
      understand you think of employing a Jansenist in your service."
    </p>
    <p>
      "Oh, no!" replied my son, laughing, "I can assure your Majesty that he is
      not a Jansenist, and I even doubt whether he believes in the existence of
      a God."
    </p>
    <p>
      "Oh, well, then!" said the King, "if that be the case, and you are sure
      that he is no Jansenist, you may take him."
    </p>
    <p>
      It is impossible for a man to be more ignorant of religion than the King
      was. I cannot understand how his mother, the Queen, could have brought him
      up with so little knowledge on this subject. He believed all that the
      priests said to him, as if it came from God Himself. That old Maintenon
      and Pere la Chaise had persuaded him that all the sins he had committed
      with Madame de Montespan would be pardoned if he persecuted and extirpated
      the professors of the reformed religion, and that this was the only path
      to heaven. The poor King believed it fervently, for he had never seen a
      Bible in his life; and immediately after this the persecution commenced.
      He knew no more of religion than what his confessors chose to tell him,
      and they had made him believe that it was not lawful to investigate in
      matters of religion, but that the reason should be prostrated in order to
      gain heaven. He was, however, earnest enough himself, and it was not his
      fault that hypocrisy reigned at Court. The old Maintenon had forced people
      to assume it.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was formerly the custom to swear horridly on all occasions; the King
      detested this practice, and soon abolished it.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was very capable of gratitude, but neither his children nor his
      grandchildren were. He could not bear to be made to wait for anything.
    </p>
    <p>
      He said that by means of chains of gold he could obtain anything he wished
      from the ministers at Vienna.
    </p>
    <p>
      He could not forgive the French ladies for affecting English fashions. He
      used often to joke about it, and particularly in the conversation which he
      addressed to me, expecting that I would take it up and tease the
      Princesses. To amuse him, I sometimes said whatever came into my head,
      without the least ceremony, and often made him laugh heartily.
    </p>
    <p>
      Reversi was the only game at which the King played, and which he liked.
    </p>
    <p>
      When he did not like openly to reprove any person, he would address
      himself to me; for he knew that I never restrained myself in conversation,
      and that amused him infinitely. At table, he was almost obliged to talk to
      me, for the others scarcely said a word. In the cabinet, after supper,
      there were none but the Duchess&mdash;[Anne of Bavaria, wife of
      Henri-Jules, Duc de Bourbon, son of the great Conde; she bore the title of
      Madame la Princesse after his death.]&mdash;and I who spoke to him. I do
      not know whether the Dauphine used to converse with the King in the
      cabinets, for while she was alive I was never permitted to enter them,
      thanks to Madame de Maintenon's interference; the Dauphine objected to it;
      the King would willingly have had it so; but he dare not assert his will
      for fear of displeasing the Dauphine and the old woman. I was not
      therefore suffered to enter until after the death of the Dauphine, and
      then only because the King wished to have some one who would talk to him
      in the evening, to dissipate his melancholy thoughts, in which I did my
      best. He was dissatisfied with his daughters on both sides, who, instead
      of trying to console him in his grief, thought only of amusing themselves,
      and the good King might often have remained alone the whole evening if I
      had not visited his cabinet. He was very sensible of this, and said to
      Maintenon, "Madame is the only one who does not abandon me."
    </p>
    <p>
      Louis XIV. spoiled the Jesuits; he thought whatever came from them must be
      admirable, whether it was right or wrong.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King did not like living in town; he was convinced that the people did
      not love him, and that there was no security for him among them. Maintenon
      had him, besides, more under her sway at Versailles than at Paris, where
      there was certainly no security for her. She was universally detested
      there; and whenever she went out in a carriage the populace shouted loud
      threats against her, so that at last she dared not appear in public.
    </p>
    <p>
      At first the King was in the habit of dining with Madame de Montespan and
      his children, and then no person went to visit him but the Dauphin and
      Monsieur. When Montespan was dismissed, the King had all his illegitimate
      children in his cabinet: this continued until the arrival of the last
      Dauphine; she intruded herself among the bastards to their great
      affliction. When the Duchess&mdash;
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [Louise-Francoise, commonly called Mademoiselle de Nantes, the
     legitimated daughter of Madame de Montespan and the King, was
     married to the Duc de Bourbon in 1685.]
</pre>
    <p>
      became the favourite of the Dauphin, she begged that no other persons of
      the royal house might have access to the cabinet; and therefore my request
      for admission, although not refused, was never granted until after the
      death of the Dauphin and Dauphine. The latter accompanied the King to
      places where I did not, and could not go, for she even, went with him upon
      occasions when decency ought to have forbidden her presence. Maintenon did
      the same thing, for the purpose of having an opportunity of talking to the
      King in secret.
    </p>
    <p>
      Louis XIV. loved the young Dauphine so well that he dared refuse her
      nothing; and Maintenon had so violent a hatred against me that she was
      ready to do me all the mischief in her power. What could the King do
      against the inclinations of his son and his granddaughter? They would have
      looked cross, and that would have grieved him. I had no inclination to
      cause him any vexation, and therefore preferred exercising my own
      patience. When I had anything to say to the King, I requested a private
      audience, which threw them all into despair, and furnished me with a good
      laugh in my sleeve.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King was so much devoted to the old usages of the Royal Palace that he
      would not for the world have departed from them. Madame de Fiennes was in
      the habit of saying that the Royal Family adhered so strictly to their
      habits and customs that the Queen of England died with a toguet on her
      head; that is, a little cap which is put upon children when they go to
      bed.
    </p>
    <p>
      When the King denied anything it was not permitted to argue with him; what
      he commanded must be done quickly and without reply. He was too much
      accustomed to "such is our good pleasure," to endure any contradiction.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was always kind and generous when he acted from his own impulses. He
      never thought that his last will would be observed; and he said to several
      people, "They have made me sign a will and some other papers; I have done
      it for the sake of being quiet, but I know very well that it will not
      stand good."
    </p>
    <p>
      The good King was old; he stood in need of repose, and he could not enjoy
      it by any other means than by doing whatever that old Maintenon wished;
      thus it was that this artful hussy always accomplished her ends.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King used always to call the Duc de Verneuil his uncle.
    </p>
    <p>
      It has been said and believed that Louis XIV. retired from the war against
      Holland through pure generosity; but I know, as well as I know my own name
      that he came back solely for the purpose of seeing Madame de Montespan,
      and to stay with her. I know also many examples of great events, which in
      history have been attributed to policy or ambition, but which have
      originated from the most insignificant trifles. It has been said it was
      our King's ambition that made him resolve to become the master of the
      world, and that it was for this he commenced the Dutch war; but I know
      from an indisputable source that it was entered upon only because M. de
      Lionne, then Minister of State, was jealous of Prince William of
      Furstenberg, who had an intrigue with his wife, of which he had been
      apprised. It was this that caused him to engage in those quarrels which
      afterwards produced the war.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was not surprising that the King was insensible to the scarcity which
      prevailed, for in the first place he had seen nothing of it, and, in the
      second, he had been told that all the reports which had reached him were
      falsehoods, and that they were in no respect true. Old Maintenon invented
      this plan for getting money, for she had bought up all the corn, for the
      purpose of retailing it at a high price. [This does not sound like M.
      Maintenon. D.W.] Everybody had been requested to say nothing about it to
      the King, lest it should kill him with vexation.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King loved my son as well as his own, but he cared little for the
      girls. He was very fond of Monsieur, and he had reason to be so; never did
      a child pay a more implicit obedience to its parents than did Monsieur to
      the King; it was a real veneration; and the Dauphin, too, had for him a
      veneration, affection and submission such as never son had for a father.
      The King was inconsolable for his death. He never had much regard for the
      Duke of Burgundy; the old sorceress (Maintenon) had slandered him to the
      King, and made the latter believe that he was of an ambitious temper, and
      was impatient at the King's living so long. She did this in order that if
      the Prince should one day open his eyes, and perceive the manner in which
      his wife had been educated, his complaints might have no effect with the
      King, which really took place. Louis XIV. at last thought everything that
      the Dauphine of Burgundy did was quite charming; old Maintenon made him
      believe that her only aim was to divert him. This old woman was to him
      both the law and the prophets; all that she approved was good, and what
      she condemned was bad, no matter how estimable it really was. The most
      innocent actions of the first Dauphine were represented as crimes, and all
      the impertinences of the second were admired.
    </p>
    <p>
      A person who had been for many years in immediate attendance upon the
      King, who had been engaged with him every evening at Maintenon's, and who
      must consequently have heard everything that was said, is one of my very
      good friends, and he has told me that although while the old lady was
      living he dare not say a word, yet, she being dead, he was at liberty to
      tell me that the King had always professed a real friendship for me. This
      person has often heard with his own ears Maintenon teasing the King, and
      speaking ill of me for the purpose of rendering me hateful in his eyes,
      but the King always took my part. It was in reference to this, I have no
      doubt, that the King said to me on his death-bed:
    </p>
    <p>
      "They have done all they could to make me hate you, Madame, but they have
      not succeeded." He added that he had always known me too well to believe
      their calumnies. While he spoke thus, the old woman stood by with so
      guilty an air that I could not doubt they had proceeded from her.
    </p>
    <p>
      Monsieur often took a pleasure in diminishing or depriving me of the
      King's favour, and the King was not sorry for some little occasions to
      blame Monsieur. He told me once that he had embroiled me with Monsieur by
      policy.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was alarmed, and said immediately, "Perhaps your Majesty may do the same
      thing again."
    </p>
    <p>
      The King laughed, and said, "No, if I had intended to do so I should not
      have told you of it; and, to say the truth, I had some scruples about it,
      and have resolved never to do so again."
    </p>
    <p>
      Upon the death of one of his children, the King asked of his old medical
      attendant, M. Gueneau: "Pray, how does it happen that my illegitimate
      children are healthy and live, while all the Queen's children are so
      delicate and always die?" "Sire," replied Gueneau, "it is because the
      Queen has only the rinsings of the glass."
    </p>
    <p>
      He always slept in the Queen's bed, but did not always accommodate himself
      to the Spanish temperament of that Princess; so that the Queen knew he had
      been elsewhere. The King, nevertheless, had always great consideration for
      her, and made his mistresses treat her with all becoming respect. He loved
      her for her virtue, and for the sincere affection she bore to him,
      notwithstanding his infidelity. He was much affected at her death; but
      four days afterwards, by the chattering of old Maintenon, he was consoled.
      A few days afterwards we went to Fontainebleau, and expected to find the
      King in an ill-humour, and that we should be scolded; but, on the
      contrary, he was very gay.
    </p>
    <p>
      When the King returned from a journey we were all obliged to be at the
      carriage as he got out, for the purpose of accompanying him to his
      apartments.
    </p>
    <p>
      While Louis XIV. was young all the women were running after him; but he
      renounced this sort of life when he flattered himself that he had grown
      devout. His motive was, Madame de Maintenon watched him so narrowly that
      he could not, dare not, look at any one. She disgusted him with everybody
      else that she might have him to herself; and this, too, under the pretext
      of taking care of his soul.
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame de Colonne had a great share of wit, and our King was so much in
      love with her, that, if her uncle, the Cardinal, had consented, he would
      certainly have married her. Cardinal Mazarin, although in every other
      respect a worthless person, deserved to be praised for having opposed this
      marriage. He sent his niece into Italy. When she was setting out, the King
      wept violently. Madame de Colonne said to him, "You are a King; you weep,
      and yet I go." This was saying a great deal in a few words. As to the
      Comtesse de Soissons, the King had always more of friendship than of love
      for her. He made her very considerable presents, the least of which was to
      the amount of 2,000 louis.
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame de Ludres, the King's mistress, was an agreeable person; she had
      been Maid of Honour to Monsieur's first wife,&mdash;[Henrietta of England.]&mdash;and
      after her death she entered the Queen's service, but when these places
      were afterwards abolished, Monsieur took back Ludres and Dampierre, the
      two Ladies of Honour he had given to the Queen. The former was called
      Madame, because she was canoness of a chapter at Lorraine.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is said that the King never observed her beauty while she was with the
      Queen, and that it was not until she was with me that he fell in love with
      her. Her reign lasted only two years. Montespan told the King that Ludres
      had certain ringworms upon her body, caused by a poison that had been
      given her in her youth by Madame de Cantecroix. At twelve or thirteen
      years of age, she had inspired the old Duc de Lorraine with so violent a
      passion that he resolved to marry her at all events. The poison caused
      eruptions, covered her with ringworms from head to foot, and prevented the
      marriage. She was cured so well as to preserve the beauty of her figure,
      but she was always subject to occasional eruptions. Although now (1718)
      more than seventy years old, she is still beautiful; she has as fine
      features as can be seen, but a very disagreeable manner of speaking; she
      lisps horribly. She is, however, a good sort of person. Since she has been
      converted she thinks of nothing but the education of her nieces, and
      limits her own expenses that she may give the more to her brother's
      children. She is in a convent at Nancy, which she is at liberty to quit
      when she pleases. She, as well as her nieces, enjoy pensions from the
      King.
    </p>
    <p>
      I have seen Beauvais, that femme de chambre of the Queen-mother, a
      one-eyed creature, who is said to have first taught the King the art of
      intriguing. She was perfectly acquainted with all its mysteries, and had
      led a very profligate life; she lived several years after my arrival in
      France.
    </p>
    <p>
      Louis XIV. carried his gallantries to debauchery. Provided they were
      women, all were alike to him peasants, gardeners' girls, femmes de
      chambre, or ladies of quality. All that they had to do was to seem to be
      in love with him.
    </p>
    <p>
      For a long time before his death, however, he had ceased to run after
      women; he even exiled the Duchesse de la Ferte, because she pretended to
      be dying for him. When she could not see him, she had his portrait in her
      carriage to contemplate it. The King said that it made him ridiculous, and
      desired her to retire to her own estate. The Duchesse de Roquelaure, of
      the house of Laval, was also suspected of wishing to captivate the King;
      but his Majesty was not so severe with her as with La Ferte. There was
      great talk in the scandalous circles about this intrigue; but I did not
      thrust my nose into the affair.
    </p>
    <p>
      I am convinced that the Duchesse de la Valliere always loved the King very
      much. Montespan loved him for ambition, La Soubise for interest, and
      Maintenon for both. La Fontange loved him also, but only like the heroine
      of a romance; she was a furiously romantic person. Ludres was also very
      much attached to him, but the King soon got tired of her. As for Madame de
      Monaco, I would not take an oath that she never intrigued with the King.
      While the King was fond of her, Lauzun, who had a regular though a secret
      arrangement with his cousin, fell into disgrace for the first time. He had
      forbidden his fair one to see the King; but finding her one day sitting on
      the ground, and talking with His Majesty, Lauzun, who, in his place as
      Captain of the guard, was in the chamber, was so transported with jealousy
      that he could not restrain himself, and, pretending to pass, he trod so
      violently on the hand which Madame de Monaco had placed upon the ground,
      that he nearly crushed it. The King, who thus guessed at their intrigue,
      reprimanded him. Lauzun replied insolently, and was sent for the first
      time to the Bastille.
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame de Soubise was cunning, full of dissimulation, and very wicked. She
      deceived the good Queen cruelly; but the latter rewarded her for this in
      exposing her falsehood and in unmasking her to the world. As soon as the
      King had undeceived Her Majesty with respect to this woman, her history
      became notorious, and the Queen amused herself in relating her triumph, as
      she called it, to everybody.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King and Monsieur had been accustomed from their childhood to great
      filthiness in the interior of their houses; so much so, that they did not
      know it ought to be otherwise, and yet, in their persons, they, were
      particularly neat.
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame de la Motte, who had been at Chaillot, preferred the old Marquis de
      Richelieu to the King. She declared to His Majesty that her heart was no
      longer disposable, but that it was at length fixed.
    </p>
    <p>
      I can never think, without anger, of the evil which has been spoken of the
      late King, and how little His Majesty has been regretted by those to whom
      he had done so much good.
    </p>
    <p>
      I hardly dare repeat what the King said to me on his death-bed. All those
      who were usually in his cabinet were present, with the exception of the
      Princess, his daughter, the Princesse de Conti, and Madame de Vendome,
      who, alone, did not see the King. The whole of the Royal Family was
      assembled. He recommended his legitimated daughters to live together in
      concord, and I was the innocent cause of his saying something disagreeable
      to them. When the King said, "I recommend you all to be united," I thought
      he alluded to me and my son's daughter; and I said, "Yes, Monsieur, you
      shall be obeyed." He turned towards me, and said in a stern voice,
      "Madame, you thought I spoke of you. No, no; you are a sensible person,
      and I know you; it is to the Princesses, who are not so, that I speak:"
    </p>
    <p>
      Louis XIV. proved at his death that he was really a great man, for it
      would be impossible to die with more courage than he displayed. For eight
      days he had incessantly the approach of death before his eyes without
      betraying fear or apprehension; he arranged everything as if he had only
      been going to make a journey.
    </p>
    <p>
      Eight or ten days before his death a disease had appeared in his leg; a
      gangrene ensued, and it was this which caused his death. But for three
      months preceding he had been afflicted with a slow fever, which had
      reduced him so much that he looked like a lath. That old rogue, Fagon, had
      brought him to this condition, by administering purgatives and sudorifics
      of the most violent kind. At the instigation of Pere Letellier, he had
      been tormented to death by the cursed constitution,&mdash;[The affair of
      the Bull Unigenitus]&mdash;and had not been allowed to rest day or night.
      Fagon was a wicked old scoundrel, much more attached to Maintenon than to
      the King. When I perceived how much it was sought to exault the Duc du
      Maine, and that the old woman cared so little for the King's death, I
      could not help entertaining unfavourable notions of this old rascal.
    </p>
    <p>
      It cannot be denied that Louis XIV. was the finest man in his kingdom. No
      person had a better appearance than he. His figure was agreeable, his legs
      well made, his feet small, his voice pleasant; he was lusty in proportion;
      and, in short, no fault could be found with his person. Some folks thought
      he was too corpulent for his height, and that Monsieur was too stout; so
      that it was said, by way of a joke at Court, that there had been a
      mistake, and that one brother had received what had been intended for the
      other. The King was in the habit of keeping his mouth open in an awkward
      way.
    </p>
    <p>
      An English gentleman, Mr. Hammer, found him an expert fencer.
    </p>
    <p>
      He preserved his good looks up to his death, although some of my ladies,
      who saw him afterwards, told me that he could scarcely be recognized.
      Before his death, his stature had been diminished by a head, and he
      perceived this himself.
    </p>
    <p>
      His pronunciation was very distinct, but all his children, from the
      Dauphin to the Comte de Toulouse, lisped. They used to say, Pahi, instead
      of Paris.
    </p>
    <p>
      In general, the King would have no persons at his table but members of the
      Royal Family. As for the Princesses of the blood, there were so many of
      them that the ordinary table would not have held them; and, indeed, when
      we were all there, it was quite full.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King used to sit in the middle, and had the Dauphin and the Duke of
      Burgundy at his right, and the Dauphine and the Duchesse de Berri on his
      left; on one of the sides Monsieur and I sat; and on the other, my son and
      his wife; the other parts of the table were reserved for the noblemen in
      waiting, who did not take their places behind the King, but opposite to
      him. When the Princesses of the blood or any other ladies were received at
      the King's table, we were waited on, not by noblemen, but by other
      officers of the King's household, who stood behind like pages. The King
      upon such occasions was waited on by his chief Maitre d'Hotel. The pages
      never waited at the King's table, but on journeys; and then upon no person
      but the King. The Royal Family had persons to attend them who were not
      noble. Formerly all the King's officers, such as the butler, the
      cupbearer, etc., etc., were persons of rank; but afterwards, the nobility
      becoming poor could not afford to buy the high offices; and they fell, of
      necessity, into the hands of more wealthy citizens who could pay for them.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King, the late Monsieur, the Dauphin, and the Duc de Berri were great
      eaters. I have often seen the King eat four platefuls of different soups,
      a whole pheasant, a partridge, a plateful of salad, mutton hashed with
      garlic, two good-sized slices of ham, a dish of pastry, and afterwards
      fruit and sweetmeats. The King and Monsieur were very fond of hard eggs.
    </p>
    <p>
      Louis XIV. understood perfectly the art of satisfying people even while he
      reproved their requests. His manners were most affable, and he spoke with
      so much politeness as to win all hearts.
    </p>
    <p>
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    <h2>
      SECTION III.&mdash;MADEMOISELLE DE FONTANGE.
    </h2>
    <p>
      I had a Maid of Honour whose name was Beauvais; she was a very
      well-disposed person: the King fell in love with her, but she remained
      firm against all his attempts. He then turned his attention to her
      companion, Fontange, who was also very pretty, but not very sensible. When
      he first saw her he said, "There is a wolf that will not eat me;" and yet
      he became very fond of her soon afterwards. Before she came to me she had
      dreamt all that was to befall her, and a pious Capuchin explained her
      dream to her. She told me of it herself long before she became the King's
      mistress. She dreamt that she had ascended a high mountain, and, having
      reached the summit, she was dazzled by an exceedingly bright cloud; then
      on a sudden she found herself in such profound darkness that her terror at
      this accident awoke her. When she told her confessor he said to her: "Take
      care of yourself; that mountain is the Court, where some distinction
      awaits you; it will, however, be but of short duration; if you abandon
      your God He will forsake you and you will fall into eternal darkness."
    </p>
    <p>
      There is no doubt that Fontange died by poison; she accused Montespan of
      being the cause of her death. A servant who had been bribed by that
      favourite destroyed her and some of her people by means of poison mixed
      with milk. Two of them died with her, and said publicly that they had been
      poisoned.
    </p>
    <p>
      Fontange was a stupid little creature, but she had a very good heart. She
      was very red-haired, but, beautiful as an angel from head to foot.
    </p>
    <p>
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    <h2>
      SECTION IV.-MADAME DE LA VALLIERE.
    </h2>
    <p>
      When one of Madame de Montespan's children died, the King was deeply
      affected; but he was not so at the death of the poor Comte de Vermandois
      (the son of La Valliere). He could not bear him, because Montespan and
      that old Maintenon had made him believe the youth was not his but the Duc
      de Lauzun's child. It had been well if all the King's reputed children had
      been as surely his as this was. Madame de La Valliere was no light
      mistress, as her unwavering penitence sufficiently proved. She was an
      amiable, gentle, kind and tender woman. Ambition formed no part of her
      love for the King; she had a real passion for him, and never loved any
      other person. It was at Montespan's instigation that the King behaved so
      ill to her. The poor creature's heart was broken, but she imagined that
      she could not make a sacrifice more agreeable to God than that which had
      been the cause of her errors; and thought that her repentance ought to
      proceed from the same source as her crime. She therefore remained, by way
      of self-mortification, with Montespan, who, having a great portion of wit,
      did not scruple to ridicule her publicly, behaved extremely ill to her,
      and obliged the King to do the same.
    </p>
    <p>
      He used to pass through La Valliere's chamber to go to Montespan's; and
      one day, at the instigation of the latter, he threw a little spaniel,
      which he had called Malice, at the Duchesse de La Valliere, saying:
      "There, Madam, is your companion; that's all."
    </p>
    <p>
      This was the more cruel, as he was then going direct to Montespan's
      chamber. And yet La Valliere bore everything patiently; she was as
      virtuous as Montespan was vicious. Her connection with the King might be
      pardoned, when it was remembered that everybody had not only advised her
      to it, but had even assisted to bring it about. The King was young,
      handsome and gallant; she was, besides, very young; she was naturally
      modest, and had a very good heart. She was very much grieved when she was
      made a Duchess, and her children legitimated; before that she thought no
      one knew she had had children. There was an inexpressible charm in her
      countenance, her figure was elegant, her eyes were always in my opinion
      much finer than Montespan's, and her whole deportment was unassuming. She
      was slightly lame, but not so much as to impair her appearance.
    </p>
    <p>
      When I first arrived in France she had not retired to the convent, but was
      still in the Court. We became and continued very intimate until she took
      the veil. I was deeply affected when this charming person took that
      resolution; and, at the moment when the funeral pall was thrown over her,
      I shed so many tears that I could see no more. She visited me after the
      ceremony, and told me that I should rather congratulate than weep for her,
      for that from that moment her happiness was to begin: she added that she
      should never forget the kindness and friendship I had displayed towards
      her, and which was so much more than she deserved. A short time afterwards
      I went to see her. I was curious to know why she had remained so long in
      the character of an attendant to Montespan. She told me that God had
      touched her heart, and made her sensible of her crimes; that she felt she
      ought to perform a penitence, and suffer that which would be most painful
      to her, which was to love the King, and to be despised by him; that for
      the three years after the King had ceased to love her she had suffered the
      torments of the damned, and that she offered her sorrows to Heaven as the
      expiation of her sins; and as her sins had been public, so should be her
      repentance. She said she knew very well that she had been taken for a
      fool, who was not sensible of anything; but that at the very period she
      alluded to she suffered most, and continued to do so until God inspired
      her with the resolution to abandon everything, and to serve Him alone,
      which she had since put into execution; but that now she considered
      herself unworthy, on account of her past life, to live in the society of
      persons as pure and pious as the Carmelite Sisters. All this evidently
      came from the heart.
    </p>
    <p>
      From the time she became professed, she was entirely devoted to Heaven. I
      often told her that she had only transposed her love, and had given to God
      that which had formerly been the King's. She has said frequently that if
      the King should come into the convent she would refuse to see him, and
      would hide herself so that he could not find her. She was, however, spared
      this pain, for the King not only never went, but seemed to have forgotten
      her, as if he had never known her.
    </p>
    <p>
      To accuse La Valliere of loving any one besides the King was wicked to the
      last degree, but falsehoods cost Montespan but little. The Comte de
      Vermandois was a good sort of young man, and loved me as if I had been his
      mother. When his irregularities were first discovered,&mdash;[A more
      particular account of these will be found hereafter.]&mdash;I was very
      angry with him; and I had caused him to be told very seriously that if he
      had behaved ill I should cease to have any regard for him. This grieved
      him to the heart; he sent to me daily, and begged permission to say only a
      few words to me. I was firm during four weeks; at length I permitted him
      to come, when he threw himself at my feet, begged my pardon, promising to
      amend his conduct, and beseeching me to restore him my friendship (without
      which he said he could not exist), and to assist him again with my advice.
      He told me the whole history of his follies, and convinced me that he had
      been most grossly deluded.
    </p>
    <p>
      When the Dauphine lay in of the Duke of Burgundy, I said to the King, "I
      hope your Majesty will not upon this occasion refuse a humble request I
      have to make to you."
    </p>
    <p>
      He smiled and said, "What have you to ask, then?"
    </p>
    <p>
      I replied, "The pardon, Monsieur, of the poor Comte de Vermandois."
    </p>
    <p>
      He smiled once more, and said, "You are a very good friend; but as for M.
      Vermandois, he has not been sufficiently punished for his crimes."
    </p>
    <p>
      "The poor lad," I rejoined, "is so very penitent for his offence."
    </p>
    <p>
      The King replied, "I do not yet feel myself inclined to see him; I am too
      angry with him still."
    </p>
    <p>
      Several months elapsed before the King would see him; but the young man
      was very grateful to me for having spoken in his behalf; and my own
      children could not be more attached to me than he was. He was well made,
      but his appearance, though not disagreeable, was not remarkably good; he
      squinted a little.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      SECTION V.&mdash;MADAME DE MONTESPAN
    </h2>
    <p>
      The King at first could not bear Madame de Montespan,&mdash;[Daughter of
      Gabriel de Roche Chouart, first Duc de Mortemart.]&mdash;and blamed
      Monsieur and even the Queen for associating with her; yet, eventually, he
      fell deeply in love with her himself.
    </p>
    <p>
      She was more of an ambitious than a libertine woman, but as wicked as the
      devil himself. Nothing could stand between her and the gratification of
      her ambition, to which she would have made any sacrifice. Her figure was
      ugly and clumsy, but her eyes bespoke great intelligence, though they were
      somewhat too bright. Her mouth was very pretty and her smile uncommonly
      agreeable. Her complexion was fairer than La Valliere's, her look was more
      bold, and her general appearance denoted her intriguing temper. She had
      very beautiful light hair, fine arms, and pretty hands, which La Valliere
      had not. But the latter was always very neat, and Montespan was filthy to
      the last degree. She was very amusing in conversation, and it was
      impossible to be tired in talking with her.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King did not regret Montespan more than he did La Fontange. The Duc
      d'Antin, her only legitimate child, was also the only one who wept at her
      death. When the King had the others legitimated, the mother's name was not
      mentioned, so that it might appear Madame de Montespan was not their
      mother.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [Madame de Montespan had eight children by Louis XIV.  The Duc du
     Maine; Comte Vegin; Mademoiselle de Nantes, married to the Duc de
     Bourbon; Mademoiselle de Tours, married to the Regent Duc d'Orleans;
     the Comte de Toulouse, and two other sons who died young.]
</pre>
    <p>
      She was once present at a review, and as she passed before the German
      soldiers they called out:
    </p>
    <p>
      "Konigs Hure! Hure!" When the King asked her in the evening how she liked
      the review, she said: "Very well, but only those German soldiers are so
      simple as not to call things by their proper names, for I had their shouts
      explained to me."
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame de Montespan and her eldest daughter could drink a large quantity
      of wine without being affected by it. I have seen them drink six bumpers
      of the strong Turin Rosa Solis, besides the wine which they had taken
      before. I expected to see them fall under the table, but, on the contrary,
      it affected them no more than a draught of water.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was Madame de Montespan who invented the 'robes battantes' for the
      purpose of concealing her pregnancy, because it was impossible to discover
      the shape in those robes. But when she wore them, it was precisely as if
      she had publicly announced that which she affected to conceal, for
      everybody at the Court used to say, "Madame de Montespan has put on her
      robe battante, therefore she must be pregnant." I believe she did it on
      purpose, hoping that it commanded more attention for her at Court, as it
      really did.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is quite true that she always had a Royal bodyguard, and it was fit
      that she should, because the King was always in her apartments by day and
      night. He transacted business there with his Ministers, but, as there were
      several chambers, the lady was, nevertheless, quite at liberty to do as
      she pleased, and the Marshal de Noailles, though a devout person, was
      still a man. When she went out in a carriage, she had guards, lest her
      husband should, as he had threatened, offer her some insult.
    </p>
    <p>
      She caused the Queen great vexation, and it is quite true that she used to
      ridicule her; but then she did the same to everybody besides. She,
      however, never ventured upon any direct or remarkable impertinence to Her
      Majesty, for the King would not have suffered it.
    </p>
    <p>
      She had married one of her cousins, M. de Montpipeau, to Mademoiselle
      Aubry, the daughter of a private citizen who was exceedingly rich. To
      convince her that she had made a good match, Madame de Montespan had her
      brought into her own small private room. The young lady was not accustomed
      to very refined society, and the first time she went she seated herself
      upon the table, and, crossing her legs, sat swinging there as if she had
      been in her own chamber. The laugh which this excited cannot be conceived,
      nor the comical manner in which Madame de Montespan turned it to the
      King's amusement. The young lady thought that her new relation was
      inclined to be favourable to her, and loaded her with compliments. In
      general, Montespan had the skill of representing things so humourously
      that it was impossible not to laugh at her.
    </p>
    <p>
      According to the law of the land, all her children were supposed to be
      Monsieur de Montespan's. When her husband was dangerously ill, Madame de
      Montespan, who in some degree affected devotion, sent to ask him if he
      would allow her to nurse him in his sickness. He replied that he would
      very willingly, provided she would bring all his children home with her,
      but if she left one behind he would not receive her. After this answer,
      she took care not to go, for her husband was a great brute, and would have
      said whatever he pleased as soon as she presented herself to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      With the exception of the Comte de Toulouse, all the children she had by
      the King are marked. The Duc du Maine is paralytic, Madame d'Orleans is
      crooked, and Madame la Duchesse is lame.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Montespan was not a very estimable person; he did nothing but play.
      He was a very sordid man, and I believe if the King had chosen to give him
      a good round sum he would have been very quiet. It was amusing enough to
      see him and his son, d'Antin, playing with Madame d'Orleans and Madame la
      Duchesse, and presenting the cards very politely, and kissing his hand to
      the Princesses, who were called his own daughters. He thought it a joke
      himself, and always turned aside a little to laugh in his sleeve.
    </p>
    <p>
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    <h2>
      SECTION VI.&mdash;MADAME DE MAINTENON.
    </h2>
    <p>
      The marriage of Louis XIV. with old Maintenon proves how impossible it is
      to escape one's fate. The King said one day to the Duc de Crequi and to M.
      de La Rochefoucauld, long before he knew Mistress Scarron, "I am convinced
      that astrology is false. I had my nativity cast in Italy, and I was told
      that, after living to an advanced age, I should be in love with an old
      &mdash;&mdash;- to the last moment of my existence. I do not think there
      is any great likelihood of that." He laughed most heartily as he said
      this; and yet the thing has taken place.
    </p>
    <p>
      The history of Theodora, in Procopius, bears a singular resemblance to
      that of Maintenon. In the history of Sweden, too, there is a similar
      character in the person of Sigbritta, a Dutch woman, who lived during the
      reign of Christian IL, King of Denmark, Sweden and Norway, who bears so
      great a likeness to Maintenon that I was struck with it as soon as I read
      it. I cannot imagine how they came to permit its publication. It is
      fortunate for the Abbe Vertot, who is the author, that the King does not
      love reading, otherwise he would certainly have been sent to the Bastille.
      Several persons thought that the Abbe had invented it by way of a joke,
      but he swears by all that is good that he found it in the annals of
      Sweden. The old woman cannot have read it either, for she is too much
      occupied in reading the letters written to her from Paris, relating all
      that is going on there and at the Court. Sometimes the packets have
      consisted of twenty or thirty sheets; she kept them or showed them to the
      King, according as she liked or disliked the persons.
    </p>
    <p>
      She was not deficient in wit, and could talk very well whenever she chose.
      She did not like to be called La Marquise, but preferred the simpler and
      shorter title of Madame de Maintenon.
    </p>
    <p>
      She did not scruple to display openly the hatred she had for me. For
      example, when the Queen of England came to Marly, and went out on foot or
      in the carriage with the King, on their return the Queen, the Dauphine,
      the Princess of England, and all the Princesses, went into the King's
      room; I alone was excluded.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was with great regret that I gave up my Maids of Honour. I had four,
      sometimes five of them, with their governess and sub-governess; they
      amused me very much, for they were all very gay. The old woman feared
      there might be some among them to whom the King might take a fancy, as he
      had done to Ludre and Fontange. I only kept my Maids of Honour a year
      after the death of Monsieur. The King was always fond of the sex, and if
      the old woman had not watched him very narrowly he would have slipped
      through her fingers in spite of all his devotion.
    </p>
    <p>
      She hated the Dauphine because the latter would not let her treat her like
      a child, but wished to keep a Court and live as became her rank. This the
      old woman could not and would not endure. She loved to set all things in
      confusion, as she did afterwards with the second Dauphine, in the hope of
      compelling the King to recognize and proclaim her as Queen; but this the
      King never would do, notwithstanding all her artifices.&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      [Other writers including Madame de Montespan put it just the opposite way
      that the King wished to proclaim Maintenon Queen and she refused. D.W.]
    </p>
    <p>
      Nobody at Court used perfumery except that old woman; her gloves were
      always scented with jessamine. The King could not bear scent on any other
      person, and only endured it in her because she made him believe that it
      was somebody else who was perfumed.
    </p>
    <p>
      If Madame des Ursins had not been protected by Madame de Maintenon, she
      would have been ruined at Court long before the Queen of Spain dismissed
      her, for in his heart the King disliked her excessively; but all those who
      were supported by Madame de Maintenon were sure to triumph.
    </p>
    <p>
      The old woman took great pains to conceal from the King all that could
      give him pain; but she did not scruple to torment him incessantly about
      the Constitution and those illegitimate children, whom she wished to raise
      higher than the King desired. She teased him also with her hatred of my
      son and myself, for he had no dislike to us.
    </p>
    <p>
      Neither the Queen nor the first Dauphine nor myself ever received a
      farthing; but this old Maintenon took money on all sides, and taught the
      second Dauphine to do the same. Her example was followed by all the
      others.
    </p>
    <p>
      In the time of the Queen and the first Dauphine, everything at Court was
      conducted with modesty and dignity. Those persons who indulged in secret
      debaucheries at least kept up a respect for appearances; but from the time
      that Maintenon's reign began, and the King's illegitimate children were
      made a part of the Royal Family, all was turned topsy-turvy.
    </p>
    <p>
      When she once conceived a hatred against any person it was for life, and
      she never ceased secretly to persecute them, as I have personally
      experienced. She has laid many snares for me, which by the help of
      Providence I have always avoided. She was terribly annoyed by her first
      husband, who kept her always shut up in his chamber. Many people say, too,
      that she hastened the passage of poor Mansart into the other world. It is
      quite certain that he was poisoned by means of green peas, and that he
      died within three hours of eating them. She had learnt that on the same
      day M. de Torcy was going to show the King certain papers containing an
      account of the money which she had received from the post unknown to His
      Majesty. The King never knew anything of this adventure nor of that of
      Louvois, because, as people had no fancy for being poisoned, they held
      their tongues.
    </p>
    <p>
      Before she got into power, the Church of France was very reasonable; but
      she spoiled everything by encouraging such follies and superstitions as
      the rosaries and other things. When any reasonable men appeared, the old
      woman and the Confessor had them banished or imprisoned. These two persons
      were the causes of all the persecutions which the Lutherans and those of
      the reformed religion underwent in France. Pere La Chaise, with his long
      ears, began this worthy enterprise, and Pere Letellier completed it;
      France was thus ruined in every way.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duchesse de Bourbon was taught by her mother and her aunt, Mesdames de
      Montespan and De Thiange, to ridicule everybody, under the pretext of
      diverting the King. The children, who were always present, learnt nothing
      else; and this practice was the universal dread of all persons in the
      Court; but not more so than that of the gouvernante of the children
      (Madame de Maintenon). Her habit was to treat things very seriously, and
      without the least appearance of jesting. She used to speak ill of persons
      to the King through charity and piety, for the sole purpose of correcting
      the faults of her neighbours; and under this pretext she filled the King
      with a bad opinion of the whole Court, solely that he might have no desire
      for any other company than that of herself and her creatures, who were
      alone perfect and without the slightest defect. What rendered her
      disclosures the more dangerous was that they were frequently followed by
      banishment, by 'lettres-de-cachet', and by imprisonment. When Montespan
      was in power, at least there was nothing of this sort. Provided she could
      amuse herself at the expense of all around her, she was content.
    </p>
    <p>
      I have often heard Madame de Maintenon say, jestingly, "I have always been
      either too far from, or too near to, greatness, to know exactly what it
      is."
    </p>
    <p>
      She could not forgive the King for not having proclaimed her Queen. She
      put on such an appearance of humility and piety to the Queen of England
      that she passed for a saint with her. The old woman knew very well that I
      was a right German, and that I never could endure unequal alliances. She
      fancied, therefore, that it was on my account the King was reluctant to
      acknowledge his marriage with her, and this it was that made her hate me
      so profoundly. From the time of the King's death and our departure from
      Versailles my son has never once seen her.
    </p>
    <p>
      She would never allow me to meddle with anything, because she feared it
      would give me an opportunity of talking to the King. It was not that she
      was jealous lest he should be fond of me, but she feared that, in speaking
      according to my usual custom, freely and without restraint, I should open
      the King's eyes and point out to him the folly of the life he was leading.
      I had, however, no such intention.
    </p>
    <p>
      All the mistresses the King had did not tarnish his reputation so much as
      the old woman he married; from her proceeded all the calamities which have
      since befallen France. It was she who excited the persecution against the
      Protestants, invented the heavy taxes which raised the price of grain so
      high, and caused the scarcity. She helped the Ministers to rob the King;
      by means of the Constitution she hastened his death; she brought about my
      son's marriage; she wanted to place bastards upon the throne; in short,
      she ruined and confused everything.
    </p>
    <p>
      Formerly the Court never went into mourning for children younger than six
      years of age; but the Duc du Maine having lost a daughter only one year
      old, the old woman persuaded the King to order a mourning, and since that
      time it has been always worn for children of a year old.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King always hated or loved as she chose to direct; it was not,
      therefore, surprising that he could not bear Montespan, for all her
      failings were displayed to him by the old woman, who was materially
      assisted in this office by Montespan's eldest son, the Duc du Maine. In
      her latter years she enjoyed a splendour which she could never have
      dreamed of before; the Court looked upon her as a sort of divinity.
    </p>
    <p>
      The old lady never failed to manifest her hatred of my son on all
      occasions. She liked my husband no better than myself; and my son and my
      daughter and her husband were equally objects of her detestation. She told
      a lady once that her greatest fault was that of being attached to me.
      Neither my son nor I had ever done her any injury. If Monsieur thought fit
      to tell his niece, the Duchess of Burgundy, a part of Maintenon's history,
      in the vexation he felt at her having estranged the Princess from him, and
      not choosing that she should behave affectionately to her great-uncle,
      that was not our fault. She was as jealous of the Dauphine as a lover is
      of his mistress.
    </p>
    <p>
      She was in the habit of saying, "I perceive there is a sort of vertigo at
      present affecting the whole world." When she perceived that the harvest
      had failed, she bought up all the corn she could get in the markets, and
      gained by this means an enormous sum of money, while the poor people were
      dying of famine. Not having a sufficient number of granaries, a large
      quantity of this corn became rotten in the boats loaded with it, and it
      was necessary to throw it into the river. The people said this was a just
      judgment from Heaven.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son made me laugh the other day. I asked him how Madame de Maintenon
      was.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Wonderfully well," he replied.
    </p>
    <p>
      "That is surprising at her age," I said.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Yes," he rejoined, "but do you not know that God has, by way, of
      punishing the devil, doomed him to exist a certain number of years in that
      ugly body?"
    </p>
    <p>
      Montespan was the cause of the King's love for old Maintenon. In the first
      place, when she wished to have her near her children, she shut her ears to
      the stories which were told of the irregular life which the hussy had been
      leading; she made everybody who spoke to the King about her, praise her;
      her virtue and piety were cried up until the King was made to think that
      all he had heard of her light conduct were lies, and in the end he most
      firmly believed it. In the second place, Montespan was a creature full of
      caprice, who had no control over herself, was passionately fond of
      amusement, was tired whenever she was alone with the King, whom she loved
      only, for the purposes of her own interest or ambition, caring very little
      for him personally. To occupy him, and to prevent him from observing her
      fondness for play and dissipation, she brought Maintenon. The King was
      fond of a retired life, and would willingly have passed his time alone
      with Montespan; he often reproached her with not loving him sufficiently,
      and they quarrelled a great deal occasionally. Goody Scarron then
      appeared, restored peace between them, and consoled the King. She,
      however, made him remark more and more the bitter temper of Montespan;
      and, affecting great devotion, she told the King that his affliction was
      sent him by Heaven, as a punishment for the sins he had committed with
      Montespan. She was eloquent, and had very fine eyes; by degrees the King
      became accustomed to her, and thought she would effect his salvation. He
      then made a proposal to her; but she remained firm, and gave him to
      understand that, although he was very agreeable to her, she would not for
      the whole world offend Heaven. This excited in the King so great an
      admiration for her, and such a disgust to Madame de Montespan, that he
      began to think of being converted. The old woman then employed her
      creature, the Duc du Maine, to insinuate to his mother that, since the
      King had taken other mistresses, for example, Ludres and Fontange, she had
      lost her authority, and would become an object of contempt at Court. This
      irritated her, and she was in a very bad humour when the King came. In the
      meantime, Maintenon was incessantly censuring the King; she told him that
      he would be damned if he did not live on better terms with the Queen.
      Louis XIV. repeated this to his wife, who considered herself much obliged
      to Madame de Maintenon: she treated her with marks of distinction, and
      consented to her being appointed second dame d'atour to the Dauphine of
      Bavaria; so that she had now nothing to do with Montespan. The latter
      became furious, and related to the King all the particulars of the life of
      Dame Scarron. But the King, knowing her to be an arrant fiend, who would
      spare no one in her passion, would not believe anything she said to him.
      The Duc du Maine persuaded his mother to retire from Court for a short
      time in order that the King might recall her. Being fond of her son, and
      believing him to be honest in the advice he gave her, she went to Paris,
      and wrote to the King that she would never come back. The Duc du Maine
      immediately sent off all her packages after her without her knowledge; he
      even had her furniture thrown out of the window, so that she could not
      come back to Versailles. She had treated the King so ill and so unkindly
      that he was delighted at being rid of her, and he did not care by what
      means. If she had remained longer, the King, teased as he was, would
      hardly have been secure against the transports of her passion. The Queen
      was extremely grateful to Maintenon for having been the means of driving
      away Montespan and bringing back the King to the marriage-bed; an
      arrangement to which, like an honest Spanish lady, she had no sort of
      objection. With that goodness of heart which was so remarkable in her, she
      thought she was bound to do something for Madame de Maintenon, and
      therefore consented to her being appointed dame d'atour. It was not until
      shortly before her death that she learnt she had been deceived by her.
      After the Queen's death, Louis XIV. thought he had gained a triumph over
      the very personification of virtue in overcoming the old lady's scruples;
      he used to visit her every afternoon, and she gained such an influence
      over him as to induce him to marry.
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame la Marechale de Schomberg had a niece, Mademoiselle d'Aumale, whom
      her parents had placed at St. Cyr during the King's life. She was ugly,
      but possessed great wit, and succeeded in amusing the King so well that
      the old Maintenon became disturbed at it. She picked a quarrel with her,
      and wanted to send her again to the convent. But the King opposed this,
      and made the old lady bring her back. When the King died, Mademoiselle
      d'Aumale would not stay any longer with Madame de Maintenon.
    </p>
    <p>
      When the Dauphine first arrived, she did not know a soul. Her household
      was formed before she came. She did not know who Maintenon was; and when
      Monsieur explained it to her a year or two afterwards, it was too late to
      resist. The Dauphin used at first to laugh at the old woman, but as he was
      amorous of one of the Dauphine's Maids of Honour, and consequently was
      acquainted with the gouvernante of the Maids of Honour, Montchevreuil, a
      creature of Maintenon's, that old fool set her out in very fair colours.
      Madame de Maintenon did not scruple to estrange the Dauphin from the
      Dauphine, and very piously to sell him first Rambure and afterwards La
      Force.
    </p>
    <p>
      18th April, 1719&mdash;To-day I will begin my letter with the story of
      Madame de Ponikau, in Saxony. One day during her lying-in, as she was
      quite alone, a little woman dressed in the ancient French fashion came
      into the room and begged her to permit a party to celebrate a wedding,
      promising that they would take care it should be when she was alone.
      Madame de Ponikau having consented, one day a company of dwarfs of both
      sexes entered her chamber. They brought with them a little table, upon
      which a good dinner, consisting of a great number of dishes, was placed,
      and round which all the wedding guests took their seats. In the midst of
      the banquet, one of the little waiting-maids ran in, crying,
    </p>
    <p>
      "Thank Heaven, we have escaped great perplexity. The old &mdash;&mdash;-
      is dead."
    </p>
    <p>
      It is the same here, the old is dead. She quitted this world at St. Cyr,
      on Saturday last, the 15th day of April, between four and five o'clock in
      the evening. The news of the Duc du Maine and his wife being arrested made
      her faint, and was probably the cause of her death, for from that time she
      had not a moment's repose or content. Her rage, and the annihilation of
      her hopes of reigning with him, turned her blood. She fell sick of the
      measles, and was for twenty days in great fever. The disorder then took an
      unfavourable turn, and she died. She had concealed two years of her age,
      for she pretended to be only eighty-four, while she was really eighty-six
      years old. I believe that what grieved her most in dying was to quit the
      world, and leave me and my son behind her in good health. When her
      approaching death was announced to her, she said, "To die is the least
      event of my life." The sums which her nephew and niece De Noailles
      inherited from her were immense; but the amount cannot be ascertained,
      because she had concealed a large part of her wealth.
    </p>
    <p>
      A cousin of hers, the Archbishop of Rouen, who created so much trouble
      with respect to the Constitution, followed his dear cousin into the other
      world exactly a week afterwards, on the same day, and at the same hour.
    </p>
    <p>
      Nobody, knows what the King said to Maintenon on his death bed. She had
      retired to St. Cyr before he died. They fetched her back, but she did not
      stay, to the end. I think the King repented of his folly in having married
      her, and, indeed, notwithstanding all her contrivances, she could not
      persuade him to declare their marriage. She wept for the King's death, but
      was not so deeply afflicted as she ought to have been. She always
      flattered herself with the hope of reigning together with the Duc du
      Maine.
    </p>
    <p>
      From the beginning to the end of their connection, the King's society was
      always irksome to her, and she did not scruple to say so to her own
      relations. She had before been much accustomed to the company of men, but
      afterwards dared see none but the King, whom she never loved, and his
      Ministers. This made her ill-tempered, and she did not fail to make those
      persons who were within her power feel its effects. My son and I have had
      our share of it. She thought only of two things, her ambition and her
      amusement. The old sorceress never loved any one but her favourite, the
      Duc du Maine. Perceiving that the Dauphine was desirous of acting for
      herself and profiting by the king's favour, that she ridiculed her to her
      attendants, and seemed not disposed to yield to her domination, she
      withdrew her attention from her; and if the Dauphine had not possessed
      great influence with the King, Maintenon would have turned round upon her
      former favourite; she was therefore very soon consoled for this Princess's
      death. She thought to have the King entirely at her disposal through the
      Duc du Maine, and it was for this reason that she relied so much upon him,
      and was so deeply afflicted at his imprisonment.
    </p>
    <p>
      She was not always so malicious, but her wickedness increased with her
      years. For us it had been well that she had died twenty years before, but
      for the honour of the late King that event ought to have taken place
      thirty-three years back, for, if I do not mistake, she was married to the
      King two years after the Queen's death, which happened five-and-thirty
      years ago.
    </p>
    <p>
      If she had not been so outrageously inveterate against me, she could have
      done me much more injury with the King, but she set about it too
      violently; this caused the King to perceive that it was mere malice, and
      therefore it had no effect. There were three reasons why she hated me
      horribly. The first was, that the King treated me favourably. I was
      twenty-five years of age when she came into power; she saw that, instead
      of suffering myself to be governed by her, I would have my own way, and,
      as the King was kind to me, that I should undeceive him and counsel him
      not to suffer himself to be blindly led by so worthless a person. The
      second reason was that, knowing how much I must disapprove of her marriage
      with the King, she imagined I should always be an obstacle to her being
      proclaimed Queen; and the third was, that I had always taken the
      Dauphine's part whenever Maintenon had mortified her. The poor Dauphine
      did not know what to do with Maintenon, who possessed the King's heart,
      and was acquainted with all his intentions. Notwithstanding all the favour
      she enjoyed, the old lady was somewhat timid. If the Dauphine could have
      summoned courage to threaten Maintenon, as I advised her, to hint that her
      previous life was well known, and that unless she behaved better to the
      Dauphine the latter would expose her to the King, but that if, on the
      contrary, she would live quietly and on good terms, silence should be
      kept, then Maintenon would have pursued a very different conduct. That
      wicked Bessola always prevented this, because then she would have had no
      more tales to tell.
    </p>
    <p>
      One day I found the Dauphine in the greatest distress and drowned in
      tears, because the old woman had threatened to make her miserable, to have
      Madame du Maine preferred to her, to make her odious to the whole Court
      and to the King besides. I laughed when she told me all this.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Is it possible," I said, "with so much sense and courage as you possess
      that you will suffer this old hag to frighten you thus? You can have
      nothing to fear: you are the Dauphine, the first person in the kingdom; no
      one can do you any mischief without the most serious cause. When,
      therefore, they threaten you, answer boldly: 'I do not fear pour menaces;
      Madame de Maintenon is too much beneath me, and the King is too just to
      condemn without hearing me. If you compel me I will speak to him myself,
      and we shall see whether he will protect me or not.'"
    </p>
    <p>
      The Dauphine was not backward in repeating this word for word. The old
      woman immediately said, "This is not your own speech; this proceeds from
      Madame's bad advice; you have not courage enough to think thus for
      yourself; however, we shall see whether Madame's friendship will be
      profitable to you or not." But from that time forth she never threatened
      the Princess. She had introduced the name of the Duchesse du Maine
      adroitly enough in her threats to the Dauphine, because, having educated
      the Duke, she thought her power at Court unlimited, and wished to chew
      that she could prefer the last Princess of the blood before the first
      person in France, and that therefore it was expedient to submit to her and
      obey her. But Bessola, who was jealous of me, and could not bear that the
      Dauphine should confide in me, had been bought over by the old woman, to
      whom she betrayed us, and told her all that I had said to console the
      Princess; she was commissioned, besides, to torment and intimidate her
      mistress as much as possible, and acquitted herself to a miracle,
      terrifying her to death, and at the same time seeming to act only from
      attachment, and to be entirely devoted to her. The poor Dauphine never
      distrusted this woman, who had been educated with her, and had accompanied
      her to France; she did not imagine that falsehood and perfidy existed to
      such an extent as this infernal creature carried them. I was perfectly
      amazed at it. I opposed Bessola, and did all I could to console the
      Dauphine and to alleviate her vexation. She told me when she was dying
      that I had prolonged her life by two years by inspiring her with courage.
      My exertions, however, procured for me Maintenon's cordial hatred, which
      lasted to the end of her life. Although the Dauphine might have something
      to reproach herself with, she was not to be taken to task for it by that
      old woman, for who had ever led a less circumspect life than she? In
      public, or when we were together, she never said anything unpleasant to
      me, for she knew that I would not have failed to answer her properly, as I
      knew her whole life. Villarceaux had told me more of her than I desired to
      know.
    </p>
    <p>
      When the King was talking to me on his death-bed she turned as red as
      fire.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Go away, Madame," said she; "the King is too much affected while he talks
      to you; it may do him harm. Pray go away."
    </p>
    <p>
      As I went out she followed me and said, "Do not think, Madame, that I have
      ever done you an ill turn with the King."
    </p>
    <p>
      I answered her with tears, for I thought I should choke with grief:
      "Madame, do not let us talk upon that subject," and so quitted her.
    </p>
    <p>
      That humpbacked old Fagon, her favourite, used to say that he disliked
      Christianity because it would not allow him to build a temple to Maintenon
      and an altar to worship her.
    </p>
    <p>
      The only trait in her character that I can find to praise is her conduct
      to Montchevreuil; although she was a wicked old devil, Maintenon had
      reason to love her and be kind to her, for she had fed and clothed her
      when Maintenon was in great want.
    </p>
    <p>
      I believe the old woman would not procure for Madame de Dangeau the
      privilege of the tabouret, only because she was a German and of good
      family. She once had two young girls from Strasbourg brought to Court, and
      made them pass for Countesses Palatine, placing them in the office of
      attendants upon her nieces. I did not know a word of it until the Dauphine
      came to tell it me with tears in her eyes.
    </p>
    <p>
      I said to her, "Do not disturb yourself, leave me alone to act; when I
      have a good reason for what I do, I despise the old witch."
    </p>
    <p>
      When I saw from my window the niece walking with these German girls, I
      went into the garden and met them. I called one of them, and asked her who
      she was. She told me, boldly, that she was a Countess Palatine of
      Lutzelstein.
    </p>
    <p>
      "By the left hand?" I asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      "No," she replied, "I am not illegitimate; the young Count Palatine
      married my mother, who is of the house of Gehlen."
    </p>
    <p>
      "In that case," I said, "you cannot be Countess Palatine; for we never
      allow such unequal marriages to hold good. I will tell you, moreover, that
      you lie when you say that the Count Palatine married your mother; she is a
      &mdash;&mdash;-, and the Count has married her no more than a hundred
      others have done; I know her lawful husband is a hautboy-player. If you
      presume, in future, to pass yourself off as a Countess Palatine I will
      have you stripped; let me never again hear anything of this; but if you
      will follow my advice, and take your proper name, I shall not reproach
      you. And now you see what you have to choose between."
    </p>
    <p>
      The girl took this so much to heart that she died some days afterwards. As
      for the second, she was sent to a boarding-house in Paris, where she
      became as bad as her mother; but as she changed her name I did not trouble
      myself any further about her.
    </p>
    <p>
      I told the Dauphine what I had done, who was very much obliged to me, and
      confessed she should not have had courage enough to do it herself. She
      feared that the King would be displeased with me; but he only said to me,
      jestingly, "One must not play tricks with you about your family, for it
      seems to be a matter of life or death with you."
    </p>
    <p>
      I replied, "I hate lies."
    </p>
    <p>
      There was a troop of Italian players who had got up a comedy called "The
      Pretended Prude." When I learnt they were going to represent it, I sent
      for them and told them not to do so. It was in vain; they played it, and
      got a great deal of money by it; but they were afterwards sent away in
      consequence. They then came to me and wanted me to intercede for them; but
      I said, "Why did you not take my advice?" It was said they hit off the
      character of Maintenon with the most amusing fidelity. I should have liked
      to see it, but I would not go lest the old woman should have told the King
      that I had planned it out of ill-will to her.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      SECTION VII.&mdash;THE QUEEN&mdash;CONSORT OF LOUIS XIV.
    </h2>
    <p>
      Our Queen was excessively ignorant, but the kindest and most virtuous
      woman in the world; she had a certain greatness in her manner, and knew
      how to hold a Court extremely well. She believed everything the King told
      her, good or bad. Her teeth were very ugly, being black and broken. It was
      said that this proceeded from her being in the constant habit of taking
      chocolate; she also frequently ate garlic. She was short and fat, and her
      skin was very white. When she was not walking or dancing she seemed much
      taller. She ate frequently and for a long time; but her food was always
      cut in pieces as small as if they were for a singing bird. She could not
      forget her country, and her manners were always remarkably Spanish. She
      was very fond of play; she played basset, reversis, ombre, and sometimes a
      little primero; but she never won because she did not know how to play.
    </p>
    <p>
      She had such as affection for the King that she used to watch his eyes to
      do whatever might be agreeable to him; if he only looked at her kindly she
      was in good spirits for the rest of the day. She was very glad when the
      King quitted his mistresses for her, and displayed so much satisfaction
      that it was commonly remarked. She had no objection to being joked upon
      this subject, and upon such occasions used to laugh and wink and rub her
      little hands.
    </p>
    <p>
      One day the Queen, after having conversed for half-an-hour with the Prince
      Egon de Furstemberg,&mdash;[Cardinal Furstemberg, Bishop of Strasbourg.]&mdash;took
      me aside and said to me, "Did you know what M. de Strasbourg has been
      saying? I have not understood him at all."
    </p>
    <p>
      A few minutes afterwards the Bishop said to me, "Did your Royal Highness
      hear what the Queen said to me? I have not comprehended a single word."
    </p>
    <p>
      "Then," said I, "why did you answer her."
    </p>
    <p>
      "I thought," he replied, "that it would have been indecorous to have
      appeared not to understand Her Majesty."
    </p>
    <p>
      This made me laugh so much that I was obliged precipitately to quit the
      Chamber.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Queen died of an abscess under her arm. Instead of making it burst,
      Fagon, who was unfortunately then her physician, had her blooded; this
      drove in the abscess, the disorder attacked her internally, and an emetic,
      which was administered after her bleeding, had the effect of killing the
      Queen.
    </p>
    <p>
      The surgeon who blooded her said, "Have you considered this well, Sir? It
      will be the death of my Mistress!"
    </p>
    <p>
      Fagon replied, "Do as I bid you."
    </p>
    <p>
      Gervais, the surgeon, wept, and said to Fagon, "You have resolved, then,
      that my Mistress shall die by my hand!"
    </p>
    <p>
      Fagon had her blooded at eleven o'clock; at noon he gave her an emetic,
      and three hours afterwards she was dead. It may be truly said that with
      her died all the happiness of France. The King was deeply grieved by this
      event, which that old villain Fagon brought about expressly for the
      purpose of confirming that mischievous old woman's fortune.
    </p>
    <p>
      After the Queen's death I also happened to have an abscess. Fagon did all
      he could to make the King recommend me to be blooded; but I said to him,
      in His Majesty's presence, "No, I shall do no such thing. I shall treat
      myself according to my own method; and if you had done the same to the
      Queen she would have been alive now. I shall suffer the abscess to gather,
      and then I shall have it opened." I did so, and soon got well.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King said very kindly to me, "Madame, I am afraid you will kill
      yourself."
    </p>
    <p>
      I replied, laughing, "Your Majesty is too good to me, but I am quite
      satisfied with not having followed my physician's advice, and you will
      soon see that I shall do very well."
    </p>
    <p>
      After my convalescence I said at table, in presence of my two doctors,
      Daguin, who was then first physician, and Fagon, who succeeded him upon
      his being disgraced, "Your Majesty sees that I was right to have my own
      way; for I am quite well, notwithstanding all the wise sayings and
      arguments of these gentlemen."
    </p>
    <p>
      They were a little confused, but put it off with a laugh; and Fagon said
      to me,&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "When folks are as robust as you, Madame, they may venture to risk
      somewhat."
    </p>
    <p>
      I replied, "If I am robust, it is because I never take medicine but on
      urgent occasions."
    </p>
    <p>
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    <h2>
      BOOK 2.
    </h2>
    <p>
      Philippe I., Duc d'Orleans Philippe II., Duc d'Orleans, Regent of France
      The Affairs of the Regency The Duchesse d'Orleans, Consort of the Regent
      The Dauphine, Princess of Bavaria. Adelaide of Savoy, the Second Dauphine
      The First Dauphin The Duke of Burgundy, the Second Dauphin Petite Madame
    </p>
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    <h2>
      SECTION VIII.&mdash;PHILIPPE I., DUC D'ORLEANS.
    </h2>
    <p>
      Cardinal Mazarin perceiving that the King had less readiness than his
      brother, was apprehensive lest the latter should become too learned; he
      therefore enjoined the preceptor to let him play, and not to suffer him to
      apply to his studies.
    </p>
    <p>
      "What can you be thinking of, M. la Mothe le Vayer," said the Cardinal;
      "would you try to make the King's brother a clever man? If he should be
      more wise than his brother, he would not be qualified for implicit
      obedience."
    </p>
    <p>
      Never were two brothers more totally different in their appearance than
      the King and Monsieur. The King was tall, with light hair; his mien was
      good and his deportment manly. Monsieur, without having a vulgar air, was
      very small; his hair and eye-brows were quite black, his eyes were dark,
      his face long and narrow, his nose large, his mouth small, and his teeth
      very bad; he was fond of play, of holding drawing-rooms, of eating,
      dancing and dress; in short, of all that women are fond of. The King loved
      the chase, music and the theatre; my husband rather affected large parties
      and masquerades: his brother was a man of great gallantry, and I do not
      believe my husband was ever in love during his life. He danced well, but
      in a feminine manner; he could not dance like a man because his shoes were
      too high-heeled. Excepting when he was with the army, he would never get
      on horseback. The soldiers used to say that he was more afraid of being
      sun-burnt and of the blackness of the powder than of the musket-balls; and
      it was very true. He was very fond of building. Before he had the Palais
      Royal completed, and particularly the grand apartment, the place was, in
      my opinion, perfectly horrible, although in the Queen-mother's time it had
      been very much admired. He was so fond of the ringing of bells that he
      used to go to Paris on All Souls' Day for the purpose of hearing the
      bells, which are rung during the whole of the vigils on that day he liked
      no other music, and was often laughed at for it by his friends. He would
      join in the joke, and confess that a peal of bells delighted him beyond
      all expression. He liked Paris better than any other place, because his
      secretary was there, and he lived under less restraint than at Versailles.
      He wrote so badly that he was often puzzled to read his own letters, and
      would bring them to me to decipher them.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Here, Madame," he used to say, laughing, "you are accustomed to my
      writing; be so good as to read me this, for I really cannot tell what I
      have been writing." We have often laughed at it.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was of a good disposition enough, and if he had not yielded so entirely
      to the bad advice of his favourites, he would have been the best master in
      the world. I loved him, although he had caused me a great deal of pain;
      but during the last three years of his life that was totally altered. I
      had brought him to laugh at his own weakness, and even to take jokes
      without caring for them. From the period that I had been calumniated and
      accused, he would suffer no one again to annoy me; he had the most perfect
      confidence in me, and took my part so decidedly, that his favourites dared
      not practise against me. But before that I had suffered terribly. I was
      just about to be happy, when Providence thought fit to deprive me of my
      poor husband. For thirty years I had been labouring to gain him to myself,
      and, just as my design seemed to be accomplished, he died. He had been so
      much importuned upon the subject of my affection for him that he begged me
      for Heaven's sake not to love him any longer, because it was so
      troublesome. I never suffered him to go alone anywhere without his express
      orders.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King often complained that he had not been allowed to converse
      sufficiently with people in his youth; but taciturnity was a part of his
      character, for Monsieur, who was brought up with him, conversed with
      everybody. The King often laughed, and said that Monsieur's chattering had
      put him out of conceit with talking. We used to joke Monsieur upon his
      once asking questions of a person who came to see him.
    </p>
    <p>
      "I suppose, Monsieur," said he, "you come from the army?"
    </p>
    <p>
      "No, Monsieur," replied the visitor, "I have never joined it."
    </p>
    <p>
      "You arrive here, then, from your country house?"
    </p>
    <p>
      "Monsieur, I have no country house."
    </p>
    <p>
      "In that case, I imagine you are living at Paris with your family?"
    </p>
    <p>
      "Monsieur, I am not married."
    </p>
    <p>
      Everybody present at this burst into a laugh, and Monsieur in some
      confusion had nothing more to say. It is true that Monsieur was more
      generally liked at Paris than the King, on account of his affability. When
      the King, however, wished to make himself agreeable to any person, his
      manners were the most engaging possible, and he won people's hearts much
      more readily than my husband; for the latter, as well as my son, was too
      generally civil. He did not distinguish people sufficiently, and behaved
      very well only to those who were attached to the Chevalier de Lorraine and
      his favourites.
    </p>
    <p>
      Monsieur was not of a temper to feel any sorrow very deeply. He loved his
      children too well even to reprove them when they deserved it; and if he
      had occasion to make complaints of them, he used to come to me with them.
    </p>
    <p>
      "But, Monsieur," I have said, "they are your children as well as mine, why
      do you not correct them?"
    </p>
    <p>
      He replied, "I do not know how to scold, and besides they would not care
      for me if I did; they fear no one but you."
    </p>
    <p>
      By always threatening the children with me, he kept them in constant fear
      of me. He estranged them from me as much as possible, but he left me to
      exercise more authority over my elder daughter and over the Queen of
      Sicily than over my son; he could not, however, prevent my occasionally
      telling them what I thought. My daughter never gave me any cause to
      complain of her. Monsieur was always jealous of the children, and was
      afraid they would love me better than him: it was for this reason that he
      made them believe I disapproved of almost all they did. I generally
      pretended not to see this contrivance.
    </p>
    <p>
      Without being really fond of any woman, Monsieur used to amuse himself all
      day in the company of old and young ladies to please the King: in order
      not to be out of the Court fashion, he even pretended to be amorous; but
      he could not keep up a deception so contrary to his natural inclination.
      Madame de Fiennes said to him one day, "You are in much more danger from
      the ladies you visit, than they are from you." It was even said that
      Madame de Monaco had attempted to give him some violent proofs of her
      affection. He pretended to be in love with Madame de Grancey; but if she
      had had no other lover than Monsieur she might have preserved her
      reputation. Nothing culpable ever passed between them; and he always
      endeavoured to avoid being alone with her. She herself said that whenever
      they happened to be alone he was in the greatest terror, and pretended to
      have the toothache or the headache. They told a story of the lady asking
      him to touch her, and that he put on his gloves before doing so. I have
      often heard him rallied about this anecdote, and have often laughed at it.
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame de Grancey was one of the most foolish women in the world. She was
      very handsome at the time of my arrival in France, and her figure was as
      good as her face; besides, she was not so much disregarded by others as by
      my husband; for, before the Chevalier de Lorraine became her lover, she
      had had a child. I knew well that nothing had passed between Monsieur and
      Grancey, and I was never jealous of them; but I could not endure that she
      should derive a profit from my household, and that no person could
      purchase an employment in it without paying a douceur to her. I was also
      often indignant at her insolence to me, and at her frequently embroiling
      me with Monsieur. It was for these reasons, and not from jealousy, as was
      fancied by those who knew nothing about it, that I sometimes sharply
      reprimanded her. The Chevalier de Lorraine, upon his return from Rome,
      became her declared lover. It was through his contrivances, and those of
      D'Effiat, that she was brought into the house of Monsieur, who really
      cared nothing about her. Her continued solicitations and the behaviour of
      the Chevalier de Lorraine had so much disgusted Monsieur, that if he had
      lived he would have got rid of them both.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had become tired of the Chevalier de Lorraine because he had found out
      that his attachment to him proceeded from interested motives. When
      Monsieur, misled by his favourites, did something which was neither just
      nor expedient, I used to say to him, "Out of complaisance to the Chevalier
      de Lorraine, you put your good sense into your pocket, and button it up so
      tight that it cannot be seen."
    </p>
    <p>
      After my husband's death I saw Grancey only once; I met her in the garden.
      When she ceased to be handsome, she fell into utter despair; and so great
      a change took place in her appearance that no one would have known her.
      Her nose, before so beautiful, grew long and large, and was covered with
      pimples, over each of which she put a patch; this had a very singular
      effect; the red and white paint, too, did not adhere to her face. Her eyes
      were hollow and sunken, and the alteration which this had caused in her
      face cannot be imagined. In Spain they, lock up all the ladies at night,
      even to the septuagenary femmes de chambre. When Grancey followed our
      Queen to Spain as dame d'atour, she was locked up in the evening, and was
      in great grief about it.
    </p>
    <p>
      When she was dying, she cried, "Ah, mon Dieu, must I die, who have never
      once thought of death?"
    </p>
    <p>
      She had never done anything but sit at play with her lovers until five or
      six o'clock in the morning, feast, and smoke tobacco, and follow
      uncontrolled her natural inclinations.
    </p>
    <p>
      When she reached her climacteric, she said, in despair, "Alas, I am
      growing old, I shall have no more children."
    </p>
    <p>
      This was exceedingly amusing; and her friends, as well as her enemies,
      laughed at it. She once had a high dispute with Madame de Bouillon. One
      evening, Grancey chose to hide herself in one of the recesses formed by
      the windows in the chamber of the former lady, who, not thinking she was
      heard, conversed very freely with the Marquise d'Allure, respecting the
      libertine life of Grancey; in the course of which she said several strange
      things respecting the treatment which her lovers had experienced from her.
      Grancey at length rushed out, and fell to abusing Madame de Bouillon like
      a Billingsgate. The latter was not silent, and some exceedingly elegant
      discourse passed between them. Madame de Bouillon made a complaint against
      Grancey; in the first place, for having listened to her conversation; and
      in the second, for having insulted her in her own house. Monsieur reproved
      Grancey; told her that she had brought this inconvenience upon herself by
      her own indiscretion, and ordered her to be reconciled with her adversary.
    </p>
    <p>
      "How can I," said Grancey, "be reconciled to Madame de Bouillon, after all
      the wicked things she has said about me?" But after a moment's reflection
      she added, "Yes, I can, for she did not say I was ugly."
    </p>
    <p>
      They afterwards embraced, and made it up.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
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</pre>
    <p>
      Monsieur was taken ill at ten o'clock at night, but he did not die until
      the next day at noon. I can never think of this night without horror. I
      remained with him from ten at night until five the next morning, when he
      lost all consciousness.&mdash;[The Duc d'Orleans died of apoplexy on the
      9th June, 1701]
    </p>
    <p>
      The Electors of Germany would not permit Monsieur to write to them in the
      same style as the King did.
    </p>
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    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION IX.&mdash;PHILIPPE II., DUC D' ORLEANS, REGENT OF FRANCE.
    </h2>
    <p>
      From the age of fourteen to that of fifteen years, my son was not ugly;
      but after that time he became very much sun-burnt in Italy and Spain. Now,
      however, he is too ruddy; he is fat, but not tall, and yet he does not
      seem disagreeable to me. The weakness of his eyes causes him sometimes to
      squint. When he dances or is on horseback he looks very well, but he walks
      horridly ill. In his childhood he was so delicate that he could not even
      kneel without falling, through weakness; by degrees, however, his strength
      improved. He loads his stomach too much at table; he has a notion that it
      is good to make only one meal; instead of dinner, he takes only one cup of
      chocolate, so that by supper he is extremely hungry and thirsty. In answer
      to whatever objections are made to this regimen, he says he cannot do
      business after eating. When he gets tipsy, it is not with strong
      potations, but with Champagne or Tokay. He is not very fond of the chase.
      The weakness of his sight arose from an accident which befell him at the
      age of four years, and which was something like an apoplexy. He sees well
      enough near, and can read the smallest writing; but at the distance of
      half the room he cannot distinguish persons without a glass. He had an
      application of a powder to that eye which is worst, and, although it had
      caused intolerable pain to every other person who had used it, it seemed
      to have no effect upon him, for he laughed and chatted as usual. He found
      some benefit from this; but W. Gendron was too severe for him. That
      physician forbade the petits-soupers and the amusements which usually
      followed them; this was not agreeable to my son, and those who used to
      frequent them to their own advantage; they therefore persuaded him to
      adopt some other remedies which almost deprived him of sight. For the last
      forty years (1719), that is to say since the accident happened, the month
      of October has never elapsed without his health and eyesight being
      affected towards the 21st in some way or other.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was only seventeen years old when he was married. If he had not been
      threatened with imprisonment in the old castle of Villers-Cotterets, and
      if hopes had not been given him of seeing the Duchesse de Bourbon as he
      wished, they could not have induced him to form this accursed marriage. It
      is my son's unlucky destiny to have for a wife a woman who is desirous of
      ruling everything with her brothers. It is commonly said, that where one
      sins there one suffers; and thus it has happened to my son with respect to
      his wife and his brothers-in-law. If he had not inflicted upon me the
      deepest vexation by uniting himself with this low race, he might now speak
      to them boldly. I never quarrelled with my son; but he was angry with me
      about this marriage, which he had contracted against my inclination.
    </p>
    <p>
      As I sincerely love him, I have forgotten it; and I do not believe that we
      shall ever quarrel in future. When I have anything to say about his
      conduct, I say it openly, and there is an end of it. He behaves to me very
      respectfully. I did all in my power to prevent his marriage; but since it
      did take place, and with his consent, though without mine, I wish now only
      for his tranquillity. His wife fancies that she has done him an honour in
      marrying him, because he is only the son of the brother of a king, while
      she is the daughter of a king; but she will not perceive that she is also
      the daughter of a &mdash;&mdash;-. He was obliged to put down all his
      feelings of nobility; and if I had a hundred crowns for as many times as
      he has since repented it, I could almost buy France for the King, and pay
      his debts. My son visits his wife every day, and when she is in good
      humour he stays with her a long time; but when she is ill-tempered, which,
      unfortunately, happens too often, he goes away without saying anything. I
      have every reason to be satisfied with him; he lives on very good terms
      with me, and I have no right to complain of his conduct; but I see that he
      does not repose much confidence in me, and I know many persons to whom he
      is more communicative.
    </p>
    <p>
      I love my son with all my heart; but I cannot see how any one else can,
      for his manners are little calculated to inspire love. In the first place,
      he is incapable of the passion, or of being attached to any one for a long
      time; in the second, he is not sufficiently polished and gallant to make
      love, but sets about it rudely and coarsely; in the third, he is very
      indiscreet, and tells plainly all that he has done.
    </p>
    <p>
      I have said to him a hundred times, "I wonder how any woman can run after
      you, whom they ought rather to fly from."
    </p>
    <p>
      He would reply, laughing, "Ah! you do not know the libertine women of the
      present day; provided they are talked of, they are satisfied."
    </p>
    <p>
      There was an affair of gallantry, but a perfectly honourable one, between
      him and the Queen of Spain. I do not know whether he had the good fortune
      to be agreeable to her, but I know he was not at all in love with her. He
      thought her mien and figure good, but neither her manners nor her face
      were agreeable to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was not in any degree romantic, and, not knowing how to conduct himself
      in this affair, he said to the Duc de Grammont, "You understand the manner
      of Spanish gallantry; pray tell me a little what I ought to say and do."
    </p>
    <p>
      He could not, however, suit the fancy of the Queen, who was for pure
      gallantry; those who were less delicate he was better suited for, and for
      this reason it was said that libertine women used to run after him.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
               ...............................
</pre>
    <p>
      He never denied that he was indiscreet and inconstant. Being one day with
      me at the theatre, and hearing Valere say he was tired of his mistress,
      "That has been my case often," he cried. I told him he never was in love
      in his life, and that what he called love was mere debauchery.
    </p>
    <p>
      He replied, "It is very true that I am not a hero of romance, and that I
      do not make love like a Celadon, but I love in my way."
    </p>
    <p>
      "Your way," I said, "is an extremely gross one." . . . This made him
      laugh.
    </p>
    <p>
      He likes the business of his gallantry to be conducted with beat of drum,
      without the least refinement. He reminds me of the old Patriarchs, who
      were surrounded by women.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
                    ............................
</pre>
    <p>
      All women do not please him alike. He does not like fine airs so well as
      profligate manners: the opera-house dancers are his favourites. The women
      run after him from mere interest, for he pays them well. A pleasant enough
      adventure happened last winter:
    </p>
    <p>
      A young and pretty woman visited my son in his cabinet; he presented her
      with a diamond of the value of 2,000 Louis and a box worth 200. This woman
      had a jealous husband, but she had effrontery enough to shew him the
      jewels which she said had been offered to her a great bargain by persons
      who wanted the money, and she begged him not to let such an opportunity
      slip. The credulous husband gave her the money she asked for. She thanked
      him, put the box in her dressing-case and the diamond on her finger, and
      displayed it in the best company.
    </p>
    <p>
      When she was asked where she got the ring and the bog, "M. de Parabere
      gave them to me," she said; and he, who happened to be present, added,
      "Yes, I gave them to her; can one do less when one has for a wife a lady
      of quality who loves none but her husband?"
    </p>
    <p>
      This caused some mirth; for other people were not so simple as the
      husband, and knew very well where the presents came from. If my son has a
      queen-sultana, it is this Madame de Parabere. Her mother, Madame de la
      Vieuville, was dame d'atour to the Duchesse de Berri.&mdash;[Marie-Madeline
      de la Vieuville, Comtesse de la Parabere; it was she whom the Regent used
      to call "his little black crow."]&mdash;It was there that my son first
      became acquainted with the daughter, who is now a widow: she is of a
      slight figure, dark complexion, and never paints; her eyes and mouth are
      pretty; she is not very sensible, but is a desirable little person. My son
      says he likes her because she thinks of nothing but amusing herself, and
      never interferes with other affairs. That would be very well if she were
      not a drunkard, and if she did not make my son eat and drink so much, and
      take him to a farm which she has at Anieres, and where he sometimes sups
      with her and the country folks. It is said that he becomes a little
      jealous of Parabere, in which case he must love her more than he has done
      yet. I often tell him that, if he really loved, he would not suffer his
      mistresses to run after others, and to commit such frequent infidelities.
      He replied that there was no such thing as love except in romances. He
      broke with Seri, because, as he said, she wanted him to love her like an
      Arcadian. He has often made me laugh at his complaining of this seriously,
      and with an air of great affliction.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Why do you disturb yourself?" I have said to him; "if that is not
      agreeable to you, leave her alone. You are not obliged to feign a love
      which you do not feel."
    </p>
    <p>
      This convinces me, however, that my son is incapable of love. He willingly
      eats, drinks, sings, and amuses himself with his mistresses, but to love
      one of them more than another is not his way. He is not afraid of
      application; but when he has been actively engaged from morning till night
      he is glad to divert himself at supper with such persons. It is for this
      reason that Parabere, who is said to be a great fool, is so agreeable to
      him. She eats and drinks astonishingly, and plays absurd tricks, which
      divert him and make him forget his labour.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son, it must be allowed, possesses some great qualities. He has good
      sense, understands several languages, is fond of reading, speaks well, has
      studied much, is learned and acquainted with most of the arts, however
      difficult. He is a musician, and does not compose badly; he paints well,
      he understands chemistry, is well versed in history, and is quick of
      comprehension. He soon, however, gets tired of everything. He has an
      excellent memory, is expert in war, and fears nothing in the world; his
      intentions are always just and fair, and if his actions are ever
      otherwise, it is the fault of others. His only faults are that he is too
      kind, not sufficiently reserved, and apt to believe people who have less
      sense than himself; he is, therefore, often deceived, for the knaves who
      know his easiness of temper will run all risks with him. All the
      misfortunes and inconveniences which befall him spring from that cause.
      His other fault is one not common to Frenchmen, the easiness with which
      women can persuade him, and this often brings him into domestic quarrels.
      He can refuse them nothing, and even carries his complaisance so far as to
      give them marks of affection without really liking them. When I tell him
      that he is too good, he says, "Is it not better to be good than bad?"
    </p>
    <p>
      He was always extremely weak, too, with respect to lovers, who chose to
      make him their confidant.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duc de Saint Simon was one day exceedingly annoyed at this weakness of
      my son, and said to him, angrily, "Ah! there you are; since the days of
      Louis le Debonnaire there has been nobody so debonnaire as yourself."
    </p>
    <p>
      My son was much amused at it.
    </p>
    <p>
      When he is under the necessity of saying anything harsh, he is much more
      pained at it than the person who experiences the disgrace.
    </p>
    <p>
      He is not fond of the country, but prefers living in town. He is in this
      respect like Madame de Longueville, who was tired to death of being in
      Normandy, where her husband was.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [The Duc de Longueville was Governor of Normandy; and after the
     reduction of Bordeaux, in 1652, the Duchesse de Longueville received
     an order from the Court to repair to her husband.]
</pre>
    <p>
      Those who were about her said, "Mon Dieu, Madame, you are eaten up with
      ennui; will you not take some amusement? There are dogs and a beautiful
      forest; will you hunt?"
    </p>
    <p>
      "No," she replied, "I don't like hunting."
    </p>
    <p>
      "Will you work?"
    </p>
    <p>
      "No, I don't like work."
    </p>
    <p>
      "Will you take a walk, or play at some game?"
    </p>
    <p>
      "No, I like neither the one nor the other."
    </p>
    <p>
      "What will you do, then?" they asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      "What can I do?" she said; "I hate innocent pleasures."
    </p>
    <p>
      My son understands music well, as all the musicians agree. He has composed
      two or three operas, which are pretty. La Fare, his Captain of the guards,
      wrote the words. He had them played in his palace, but never would permit
      them to be represented on the public stage.
    </p>
    <p>
      When he had nothing to do he painted for one of the Duchess's cabinets all
      the pastoral romance of "Daphnis and Chloe."
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [The designs for the romance of "Daphnis and Chloe" were composed by
     the Regent, with the advice, and probably the assistance, of Claude
     Audran, a distinguished painter, whom Lebrun often employed to help
     him with his large pictures.  He painted a part of the battles of
     Alexander.  These designs were engraved by Benoit Audran; they
     embellish what is called "the Regent's edition" of the Pastoral of
     Longus, which was printed under his inspection in the year 1718.  It
     is somewhat surprising that Madame should speak so disdainfully of
     so eminent an artist as Benoit Audran.]
</pre>
    <p>
      With the exception of the first, he invented and painted all the subjects.
      They have been engraved by one Audran. The Duchess thought them so pretty
      that she had them worked in a larger size in tapestry; and these, I think,
      are better than the engravings.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son's learning has not the least tinge of pedantry. He knows a quantity
      of facetious stories, which he learnt in Italy and in Spain. He does not
      tell them badly, but I like him better in his more serious moods, because
      they are more natural to him. When he talks upon learned topics it is easy
      to see that they are rather troublesome to him than otherwise. I often
      blamed him for this; but he used to reply that it was not his fault, that
      he was ready enough to learn anything, but that when he once knew it he no
      longer took pleasure in it.
    </p>
    <p>
      He is eloquent enough, and when he chooses he can talk with dignity. He
      has a Jesuit for his confessor, but he does not suffer himself to be ruled
      by him. He pretends that his daughter has no influence over him. He was
      delighted when he obtained the command of the Spanish army, and was
      pleased with everything in that country; this procured him the hatred of
      the Princesse des Ursins, who feared that my son would diminish her
      authority and gain more of the confidence of the Spaniards than she
      possessed.
    </p>
    <p>
      He learned to cook during his stay with the army in Spain.
    </p>
    <p>
      I cannot tell where he learned so much patience; I am sure it was neither
      from Monsieur nor from me.
    </p>
    <p>
      When he acted from himself I always found him reasonable; but he too often
      confided in rogues, who had not half his sense, and then all went wrong.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son is like all the rest of his family; when they had become accustomed
      to a thing they suffered it to go its own way. It was for this reason he
      could not persuade himself to shake off the Abbe Dubois, although he knew
      him to be a rascal. This Abbe had the impudence to try to persuade even me
      that the marriage he had brought about was an excellent one.
    </p>
    <p>
      "But the honour which is lost in it," said I, "how will you repair that?"
    </p>
    <p>
      Old Maintenon had made immense promises to him, as well as to my son; but,
      thank God, she kept neither the one nor the other.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is intolerable that my son will go about day and night with that wicked
      and impertinent Noce I hate that Noce as I hate the devil. He and Brogue
      run all risks, because they are thus enabled to sponge upon my son. It is
      said that Noce is jealous of Parabere, who has fallen in love with some
      one else. This proves that my son is not jealous. The person with whom she
      has fallen in love has long been a sort of adventurer: it is Clermont, a
      captain in my son's Swiss Guard; the same who preferred Chouin to the
      great Princesse de Conti. It is said that Noce utters whatever comes into
      his head, and about any persons; this makes my son laugh, and amuses him,
      for Noce has wit and can do this pleasantly, enough. His father was
      under-governor to my son, who has thus been accustomed from his infancy to
      this wicked rascal, and who is very fond of him. I do not know for what
      reason, for he is a person who fears neither God nor man, and has not a
      single good point about him; he is green, black, and deep yellow; he is
      ten years older than my son; it is incredible how many, millions this
      mercenary rogue has drawn from him. Madame de Berri has told me that
      Broglie's jokes consist only in saying openly, the most horrible things.
      The Broglii are of Italian extraction, but have been long settled in
      France. There were three brothers, the elder of whom died in the army; the
      second was an Abbe, but he cast aside his gown, and he is the knave of
      whom I have been speaking. The third is still serving in the army, and,
      according to common report, is one of the best gentlemen in the world. My
      son does not like him so well as his good-for-nothing brother, because he
      is too serious, and would not become his buffoon. My son excuses himself
      by saying that when he quits business he wants something to make him
      laugh, and that young Broglie is not old enough for this; that if he had a
      confidential business, or a warlike expedition to perform, he would prefer
      him; but that for laughing and dissipation of all sorts, his elder brother
      is more fit.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son has three natural children, two boys and a girl, of whom only one
      has been legitimated; that is his son by Mademoiselle de Seri,
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [N. de Seri de la Boissiere; the father had been ambassador in
     Holland.  Mademoiselle de Seri was the Regent's first mistress; he
     gave her the title of Comtesse d'Argenton.  Her son, the Chevalier
     d'Orleans, was Grand-Prieur of France.]
</pre>
    <p>
      who was my Maid of Honour; she was genteel and gay, but not pretty nor of
      a good figure. This son was called the Chevalier d'Orleans. The other, who
      is now a lad of eighteen years, is the Abbe de Saint Albin; he had this
      child by Florence, an opera dancer, of a very neat figure, but a fool;
      although to look at her pretty face one would not have thought so. She is
      since dead. The third of my son's illegitimate children is a girl of
      fourteen years old, whom he had by Desmarets, an actress, who is still on
      the stage. This child has been educated at a convent at Saint Denis, but
      has not much inclination for a monastic life. When my son sent for her she
      did not know who she was.
    </p>
    <p>
      Desmarets wanted to lay another child to my son's account; but he replied,
      "No, that child is too much of a harlequin."
    </p>
    <p>
      When some one asked him what he meant, he said it was of so many different
      pieces, and therefore he renounced it.
    </p>
    <p>
      I do not know whether the mother did not afterwards give it to the Elector
      of Bavaria, who had some share in it, and who sacrificed to her the most
      beautiful snuff-box that ever was seen; it was covered with large
      diamonds.
    </p>
    <p>
      My first son was called the Duc de Valois; but as this name was one of
      evil omen, Monsieur would not suffer my other son to be called so; he
      took, therefore, the title of Duc de Chartres. After Monsieur's death my
      son took the name of Orleans, and his son that of Chartres.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [Alesandre-Louis d'Orleans, Duc de Valois, died an infant on the
     16th of March, 1676; the Regent was born on the 4th of August, 1674.
     It is unnecessary to mention the unhappy ends of Henri III. and of
     the three Kings, his sons, who all died without issue.]
</pre>
    <p>
      My son is too much prejudiced in favour of his nation; and although he
      sees daily that his countrymen are false and treacherous, he believes
      there is no nation comparable to them. He is not very lavish of his
      praise; and when he does approve of anything his sincerity gives it an
      additional value.
    </p>
    <p>
      As he is now in his forty-second year the people of Paris do not forgive
      him for running about at balls, like a young fool, for the amusement of
      women, when he has the cares of the kingdom upon his shoulders. When the
      late King ascended the throne he had reason to take his diversion; it is
      not so now. Night and day it is necessary to labour in order to repair the
      mischief which the late King, or rather his Ministers, did to the country.
    </p>
    <p>
      When my son gently reproached that old Maintenon for having maligned him,
      and asked her to put her hand upon her heart, and say whether her
      calumnies were true, she replied, "I said it because I believed it."
    </p>
    <p>
      My son replied, "You could not believe it, because you knew the contrary."
    </p>
    <p>
      She said arrogantly, and yet my son kept his temper, "Is not the Dauphine
      dead?"
    </p>
    <p>
      "Is it my fault," he rejoined, "that she is dead? Was she immortal?"
    </p>
    <p>
      "Well," she replied, "I was so much distressed at the loss that I could
      not help detesting him whom I was told was the cause of it."
    </p>
    <p>
      "But, Madame," said my son, "you know, from the report which has been made
      to the King, that I was not the cause, and that the Dauphine was not
      poisoned."
    </p>
    <p>
      "I do know it," she replied, "and I will say nothing more about it."
    </p>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_SECT10" id="link2H_SECT10">
      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION X.&mdash;THE AFFAIRS OF THE REGENCY.
    </h2>
    <p>
      The old Maintenon wished to have the Duc du Maine made Regent; but my
      son's harangue to the Parliament frustrated her intention.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was very angry with Lord Stair because he believed that he had done him
      an ill office with the King of England, and prevented the latter from
      entering into the alliance with France and Holland. If that alliance had
      taken place my son could have prevented the Pretender from beginning his
      journey; but as England refused to do so, the Regent was obliged to do
      nothing but what was stipulated for by the treaty of peace: that is to
      say, not to succour the Pretender with money nor arms, which he faithfully
      performed. He sent wherever Lord Stair requested.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [The Duc d'Orleans ordered, in Lord Stair's presence, Contades,
     Major of the Guard, to arrest the Pretender on his passage through
     Chateau-Thierry; but, adds Duclos, Contades was an intelligent man,
     and well acquainted with the Regent's secret intentions, and so he
     set out resolved not to find what he went in search of.]
</pre>
    <p>
      He believed that the English people would not be well pleased to see their
      King allied to the Crown of France.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
                                   1717
</pre>
    <p>
      The Baron Goertz thought to entrap my son, who, however, did not trust
      him; he would not permit him to purchase a single ship, and it was upon
      this that the Baron had built all his hopes of success.
    </p>
    <p>
      That tall Goertz, whom I have seen, has an unlucky physiognomy; I do not
      believe that he will die a fair death.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Memoir of the thirty noblemen has so much angered my son that he will
      hasten to pronounce sentence.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [Goertz was the Swedish minister, and had been sent into Holland and
     France to favour the cause of the Pretender.  He was arrested in
     Holland in 1717, and remained in prison for several months.  He was
     a very cunning person, and a great political intriguer.  On the
     death of Charles XII.  he was taken before an extraordinary
     tribunal, and condemned in an unjust and arbitrary manner to be
     beheaded, which sentence was executed in, May, 1719.]
</pre>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
                                   1718
</pre>
    <p>
      The whole of the Parliament was influenced against him. He made a
      remonstrance against this, which was certainly effected at the instigation
      of the eldest bastard and his wife.&mdash;[The Duc and Duchesse du Maine.]&mdash;If
      any one spoke ill of my son, and seemed dissatisfied, the Duchesse du
      Maine: invited them to Sceaux, and pitied and caressed them to hear them
      abuse my son. I wondered at his patience. He has great courage, and went
      steadily on without disturbing himself about anything. Although the
      Parliament of Paris sent to all the other parliaments in the kingdom to
      solicit them to unite with it, none of them did so, but all remained
      faithful to my son. The libels which were dispersed for the purpose of
      exciting the people against him had scarcely any effect. I believe the
      plot would have succeeded better if the bastard and his wife had not
      engaged in it, for they were extraordinarily hated at Paris. My son told
      the Parliament they had nothing to do with the coinage; that he would
      maintain the royal authority, and deliver it to the King when he should be
      of age in the same state as he had found it on his becoming Regent.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Marechale d'Uxelles hated my son mortally, but after the King's death
      he played the fawning dog so completely that my son forgave him and took
      him into favour again. In the latter affair he was disposed once more to
      follow his natural inclination, but my son, having little value for
      whatever he could do, said, "Well, if he will not sign he may let it
      alone."
    </p>
    <p>
      When the Marshal saw my son was serious and did not care at all for his
      bravadoes, he became submissive and did what my son desired.
    </p>
    <p>
      The wife of the cripple, the Duchesse du Maine, resolved to have an
      explanation with my son. She made a sententious speech, just as if she had
      been on the stage; she asked how he could think that the answer to
      Fitz-Morris's book should have proceeded from her, or that a Princess of
      the blood would degrade herself by composing libels? She told him, too,
      that the Cardinal de Polignac was engaged in affairs of too much
      importance to busy himself in trifles like this, and M. de Malezieux was
      too much a philosopher to think of anything but the sciences. For her own
      part, she said she had sufficient employment in educating her children as
      became that royal dignity of which she had been wrongfully deprived. My
      son only replied to her thus:&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "I have reason to believe that these libels have been got up at your
      house, and by you, because that fact has been attested by persons who have
      been in your service, and who have seen them in progress; beyond this no
      one makes me believe or disbelieve anything."
    </p>
    <p>
      He made no reply to her last observation, and so she went away. She
      afterwards boasted everywhere of the firmness with which she had spoken to
      my son.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son this day (26th of August) assembled the Council of the Regency. He
      had summoned the Parliament by a 'lettre-de-cachet': they repaired to the
      Tuileries in a procession on foot, dressed in scarlet robes, hoping by
      this display to excite the people in their favour; but the mob only called
      out, "Where are these lobsters going?" The King had caused the Keeper of
      the Seals to make a remonstrance to the Parliament for having infringed
      upon his authority in publishing decrees without his sanction. He
      commanded them to quash the decree, which was done; and to confirm the
      authority of the Keeper of the Seals, which they did also. He then ordered
      them with some sternness not to interfere with the affairs of the
      Government beyond their province; and as the Duc du Maine had excited the
      Parliament against the King, he was deprived of the care of His Majesty's
      education, and he with his brothers were degraded from the rank of Princes
      of the blood, which had been granted to them. They will in future have no
      other rank than that of their respective peerages; but the Duc du Maine
      alone, for the fidelity he has always manifested towards the King, will
      retain his rank for his life, although his issue, if he should have any,
      will not inherit it.
    </p>
    <p>
      [Saint-Simon reports that it was the Comte de Toulouse who was allowed to
      retain his rank.&mdash;See The Memoirs of Saint-Simon, Chapter XCIII.&mdash;D.W.]
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame d'Orleans was in the greatest despair, and came to Paris in such a
      condition as moved my pity for her. Madame du Maine is reported to have
      said, three weeks ago, at a grand dinner, "I am accused of having caused
      the Parliament to revolt against the Duc d'Orleans, but I despise him too
      much to take so noble a vengeance; I will be revenged in another manner."
    </p>
    <p>
      The Parliament had very notable projects in hand. If my son had delayed
      four-and-twenty hours longer in removing the Duc du Maine from the King it
      would have been decided to declare His Majesty of full age; but my son
      frustrated this by dismissing the Duke, and degrading him at the same
      time. The Chief President is said to have been so frightened that he
      remained motionless, as if he had been petrified by a gaze at the head of
      Medusa. That celebrated personage of antiquity could not have been more a
      fury than Madame du Maine; she threatened dreadfully, and did not scruple
      to say, in the presence of her household, that she would yet find means to
      give the Regent such a blow as should make him bite the dust. That old
      Maintenon and her pupil have also had a finger in the pie.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Parliament asked pardon of my son, which proves that the Duc and
      Duchesse du Maine were the mainsprings of the plot.
    </p>
    <p>
      There is reason to believe that the old woman and the former Chancellor
      were also implicated in it. The Chancellor, who would have betrayed my son
      in so shameful a manner, was under the heaviest obligations to him. What
      has happened is a great mortification to Maintenon, and yet she has not
      given up all hopes. This makes me very anxious, for I know how expertly
      she can manage poison. My son, instead of being cautious, goes about the
      town at night in strange carriages, sometimes supping with one or another
      of his people, none of whom are worthy of being trusted, and who,
      excepting their wit, have not one good quality.
    </p>
    <p>
      Different reports respecting the Duchesse du Maine are abroad; some say
      she has beaten her husband and broken the glasses and everything brittle
      in her room. Others say she has not spoken a word, and has done nothing
      but weep. The Duc de Bourbon has undertaken the King's education. He said
      that, not being himself of age, he did not demand this office before, but
      that being so now he should solicit it, and it was immediately given to
      him.
    </p>
    <p>
      One president and two counsellors have been arrested. Before the close of
      the session, the Parliament implored my son to use his good offices with
      the King for the release of their members, and promised that they should,
      if found culpable, be punished by the Parliament itself. My son replied
      that they could not doubt he should always advise the King to the most
      lenient measures; that His Majesty would not only be gracious to them as a
      body, while they merited it, but also to each individual; that, as to the
      prisoners, they would in good time be released.
    </p>
    <p>
      That old Maintenon has fallen sick of grief that her project for the Duc
      du Maine has miscarried.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duke and the Parliament had resolved to have a bed of justice held,
      where my son should be dismissed, and the Regency be committed to the
      Duke, while at the same time the King's household should be under arms.
      The Duke and the Prince de Conti had long been urging my son without
      knowing all the particulars. The Duc du Maine has not been banished to the
      country, but has permission to go with his family wherever he pleases; he
      will not, however, remain at Paris, because he no longer enjoys his rank;
      he chooses rather to live at Sceaux, where he has an elegant mansion and a
      fine park.
    </p>
    <p>
      The little dwarf (the Duchesse du Maine) says she has more courage than
      her husband, her son, and her brother-in-law put together; and that, like
      another Jael, she would kill my son with her own hand, and would drive a
      nail into his head. When I implored my son to be on his guard against her,
      and told him this, he laughed at my fears and shook his head
      incredulously.
    </p>
    <p>
      I do not believe that the Devil, in his own person, is more wicked than
      that old Maintenon, the Duc du Maine, and the Duchess. The latter said
      openly that her husband and her brother-in-law were no better than
      cowards; that, woman as she was, she was ready to demand an audience of my
      son and to plunge a dagger in his heart. Let any one judge whether I have
      not reason to fear such persons, and particularly, when they, have so
      strong a party. Their cabal is very considerable; there are a dozen
      persons of consideration, all great noblemen at Court. The richest part of
      the people favour the Spanish pretensions, as well as the Duc and Duchesse
      du Maine; they wish to call in the King of Spain. My brother has too much
      sense for them; they want a person who will suffer himself to be led as
      they, please; the King of Spain is their man; and, for this reason, they
      are trying all means to induce him to come. It is for these reasons that I
      think my son is in so great danger.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son has not yet released the three rogues of the Parliament, although
      their liberation has been twice petitioned for.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duc du Maine and the cabal have made his sister believe that if my son
      should die they would make her Regent, and would aid her with their
      counsel to enable her to become one of the greatest persons in the world.
      They say they mean no violence towards my son, who cannot live long on
      account of his irregularities; that he must soon die or lose his sight;
      and in the latter event he would consent to her becoming Regent. I know a
      person to whom the Duc du Maine said so. This put an end to one's
      astonishment, that she should have wished to force her daughter to marry
      the Duc du Maine.
    </p>
    <p>
      All this gave me great anxiety. I foresaw it all and said to my son, "You
      are committing a folly, for which I shall have to suffer all my life."
    </p>
    <p>
      He has made great changes; instead of a great number of Councils he has
      appointed Secretaries of State. M. d'Armenouville is Secretary of State
      for the Navy; M. le Blanc, for the Army; M. de la Vrilliere, for the Home
      Department; the Abbe Dubois, for Foreign Affairs; M. de Maurepas, for the
      Royal Household; and a Bishop for the Church Benefices.
    </p>
    <p>
      Malezieux and the Cardinal de Polignac had probably as great a share in
      the answer to Fitz-Morris as the Duchesse du Maine.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duc de Bourbon and the Prince de Conti assisted very zealously in the
      disgrace of the Duc du Maine. My son could not bring himself to resolve
      upon it until the treachery had been clearly demonstrated to him, and he
      saw that he should lend himself to his own dishonour if he did not prevent
      the blow.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son is very fond of the Comte de Toulouse, whom he finds a sensible
      person on all occasions: if the latter had followed the advice of the Duc
      du Maine he would have shared his fate; but he despised his brother's
      advice and followed that of his wife.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son believes as firmly in predestination as if he had been, like me, a
      Calvinist, for nineteen years. I do not know how he learnt the affair of
      the Duc du Maine; he has always kept it a great secret. But what appears
      the most singular to me is that he does not hate his brother-in-law, who
      has endeavoured to procure his death and dishonour. I do not believe his
      like was ever seen: he has no gall in his composition; I never knew him to
      hate any one.
    </p>
    <p>
      He says he will take as much care as he can; but that if God has ordained
      that he shall perish by the hands of his enemies he cannot change his
      destiny, and that therefore he shall go on tranquilly.
    </p>
    <p>
      He has earnestly requested Lord Stair to speak to the King of England on
      your account.&mdash;[This passage is addressed to the Princess of Wales.]&mdash;He
      says no one can be more desirous than he is that you should be reinstated
      in your father's affection, and that he will neglect no opportunity of
      bringing it about, being persuaded that it is to the advantage of the King
      of England, as well as of yourself, that you should be reconciled.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Law must be praised for his talent, but there is an astonishing number
      of persons who envy him in this country. My son is delighted with his
      cleverness in business.
    </p>
    <p>
      He has been compelled to arrest the Spanish Ambassador, the Prince of
      Cellamara, because letters were found upon his courier, the Abbe Porto
      Carero, who was his nephew, and who has also been arrested, containing
      evidence of a plot against the King and against my son. The Ambassador was
      arrested by two Counsellors of State. It was time that this treachery
      should be made public. A valet of the Abbe Porto Carero having a bad
      horse, and not being able to get on so quick as his master, stayed two
      relays behind, and met on his way the ordinary courier from Poitiers. The
      valet asked him, "What news?"
    </p>
    <p>
      "I don't know any," replied the postilion, "except that they have arrested
      at Poitiers an English bankrupt and a Spanish Abbe who was carrying a
      packet."
    </p>
    <p>
      When the valet heard this he instantly took a fresh horse, and, instead of
      following his master, he came back full gallop to Paris. So great was his
      speed, that he fell sick upon his arrival in consequence of the exertion.
      He outstripped my son's courier by twelve hours, and so had time to
      apprise the Prince of Cellamara twelve hours before his arrest, which gave
      him time to burn his most important letters and papers. My son's enemies
      pretend to treat this affair as insignificant to the last degree; but I
      cannot see anything insignificant in an Ambassador's attempting to cause a
      revolt in a whole kingdom, and among the Parliament, against my son, and
      meditating his assassination as well as that of his son and daughter. I
      alone was to have been let live.
    </p>
    <p>
      That Des Ursins must have the devil in her to have stirred up Pompadour
      against my son. He is not any very great personage; but his wife is a
      daughter of the Duc de Navailles, who was my son's governor. Madame de
      Pompadour was the governess of the young Duc d'Alencon, the son of Madame
      de Berri. As to the Abbe Brigaut, I know him very well. Madame de
      Ventadour was his godmother, and he was baptized at the same time with the
      first Dauphin, when he received the name of Tillio. He has talent, but he
      is an intriguer and a knave. He pretended at first to be very devout, and
      was appointed Pere de l'Oratoire; but, getting tired of this life, he took
      up the trade of catering for the vices of the Court, and afterwards became
      the secretary and factotum of Madame du Maine, for whom he used to assist
      in all the libels and pasquinades which were written against my son. It
      would be difficult to say which prated most, he or Pompadour.
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame d'Orleans has great influence over my son. He loves all his
      children, but particularly his eldest daughter. While still a child, she
      fell dangerously ill, and was given over by her physicians. My son was in
      deep affliction at this, and resolved to attempt her cure by treating her
      in his own way, which succeeded so well that he saved her life, and from
      that moment has loved her better than all his other children.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
                    ............................
</pre>
    <p>
      The Abbe Dubois has an insinuating manner towards every one; but more
      particularly towards those of whom he had the care in their childhood.
    </p>
    <p>
      Two Germans were implicated in the conspiracy; but I am only surprised at
      one of them, the Brigadier Sandrazky, who was with me daily, and in whose
      behalf I have often spoken, because his father served my brother as
      commandant at Frankendahl; he died in the present year. The other is the
      Count Schlieben, who has only one arm. I am not astonished at him; for, in
      the first place, I know how he lost his arm; and, in the second, he is a
      friend and servant of the Princesse des Ursins: they expect to take him at
      Lyons. Sandrazky was at my toilette the day before yesterday; as he looked
      melancholy, I asked him what was the matter? He replied, "I am ill with
      vexation: I love my wife, who is an Englishwoman, very tenderly, and she
      is no less fond of me; but, as we have not the means of keeping up an
      establishment, she must go into a convent. This distresses me so much that
      I am really very unwell."
    </p>
    <p>
      I was grieved to hear this, and resolved to solicit my son for him.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son sometimes does as is said in Atys,&mdash;[The opera of Atys, act
      ii., scene 3.]&mdash;"Vous pourriez aimer et descendre moins bas;" for
      when Jolis was his rival, he became attached to one of his daughter's
      'filles de chambre', who hoped to marry Jolis because he was rich; for
      this reason she received him better than my son, who, however, at last
      gained her favour. He afterwards took her away from his daughter, and had
      her taught to sing, for she had a fine voice.
    </p>
    <p>
      The printed letters of Cellamara disclose the whole of the conspiracy. The
      Abbe Brigaut, too, it is said, begins to chatter about it. This affair has
      given me so much anxiety that I only sleep through mere exhaustion. My
      heart beats incessantly; but my son has not the least care about it. I
      beseech him, for God's sake, not to go about in coaches at night, and he
      promises me he will not; but he will no more keep that promise than he did
      when he made it to me before.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is now eight days since the Duc du Maine and his wife were arrested
      (29th December). She was at Paris, and her husband at Sceaux in his
      chateau. One of the four captains of the King's Guard arrested the
      Duchess, the Duke was arrested only by a lieutenant of the Body Guard. The
      Duchess was immediately taken to Dijon and her husband to the fortress of
      Doullens. I found Madame d'Orleans much more calm than I had expected. She
      was much grieved, and wept bitterly; but she said that, since her brother
      was convicted, she must confess he had done wrong; that he was, with his
      wife, the cause of his own misfortune, but that it was no less painful to
      her to know that her own brother had thus been plotting against her
      husband. His guilt was proved upon three points: first, in a paper under
      the hand of the Spanish Ambassador, the Prince of Cellamara, in which he
      imparted to Alberoni that the Duchesse and the Duc du Maine were at the
      head of the conspiracy; he tells him how many times he has seen them, by
      whose means, and in what place; then he says that he has given money to
      the Duc du Maine to bribe certain persons, and he mentions the sum. There
      are already two men in the Bastille who confess to have received money,
      and others who have voluntarily stated that they conducted the Ambassador
      to the Duke and Duchess, and negotiated everything between the parties.
      The greater part of their servants have been sent to the Bastille. The
      Princess is deeply afflicted; and, although the clearest proofs are given
      of her children's crime, she throws all the blame upon the Duke, her
      grandson, who, she says, has accused them falsely, because he hates them,
      and she has refused to see him. The Duchess is more moderate in her grief.
      The little Princesse de Conti heartily pities her sister and weeps
      copiously, but the elder Princess does not trouble herself about her uncle
      and aunt.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Cardinals cannot be arrested, but they may be exiled; therefore the
      Cardinal de Polignac has been ordered to retire to one of his abbeys and
      to remain there. It was love that turned his head. He was formerly a great
      friend of my son's, and he did not change until he became attached to that
      little hussy.
    </p>
    <p>
      Magni
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [Foucault de Magni, introducteur des ambassadeurs, and son of a
     Counsellor of State.  Duclos says he was a silly fellow, who never
     did but, one wise thing, which was to run away.]
</pre>
    <p>
      has not yet been taken; he flies from one convent to another. He stayed
      with the Jesuits a long time.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
                                   1719
</pre>
    <p>
      They say that the Duchesse du Maine used all her persuasions to induce her
      husband to fly; but that he replied, as neither of them had written
      anything with their own hands, nothing could be proved against them;
      while, by flying, they would confess their guilt. They did not consider
      that M. de Pompadour could say enough to cause their arrest.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duchess's fraternal affection is a much stronger passion than her love
      for her children.
    </p>
    <p>
      A letter of Alberoni's to the lame bastard has been intercepted, in which
      is the following passage: "As soon as you declare war in France spring all
      your mines at once."
    </p>
    <p>
      What enrages me is that Madame d'Orleans and the Princess would still make
      one believe that the Duc and Duchesse du Maine are totally innocent,
      although proofs of their guilt are daily appearing. The Duchess came to me
      to beg I would procure an order for her daughter's people, that is, her
      dames d'honneur, her femmes de chambre, and her hair-dresser, to be sent
      to her. I could not help laughing, and I said, "Mademoiselle de Launay is
      an intriguer and one of the persons by whom the whole affair was
      conducted."
    </p>
    <p>
      But she replied, "The Princess is at the Bastille."&mdash;"I know it," I
      said; "and well she has deserved it." This almost offended the Princess.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duchesse du Maine said openly that she should never be happy until she
      had made an end of my son. When her mother reproached her with it, she did
      not deny it, but only replied, "One says things in a passion which one
      does not mean to do."
    </p>
    <p>
      Although the plot has been discovered, the conspirators have not yet been
      all taken. My son says, jokingly, "I have hold of the monster's head and
      tail, but I have not yet got his body."
    </p>
    <p>
      I can guess how it happened that the mercantile letters stated my son to
      have been arrested; it is because the conspirators intended to have done
      so, and two days later it would have taken place. It must have been
      persons of this party, therefore, who wrote to England.
    </p>
    <p>
      When Schlieben was seized, he said, "If Monsieur the Regent does not take
      pity upon me, I am ruined."
    </p>
    <p>
      He was for a long time at the Spanish Court, where he was protected by the
      Princesse des Ursins. He has some wit, can chatter well, and is an
      excellent spy for such a lady. The persons who had arrested him took him
      to Paris by the diligence, without saying a word. On reaching Paris the
      diligence was ordered to the Bastille; the poor travellers not knowing
      why, were in a great fright, and expected all to be locked up, but were
      not a little pleased at being set free. Sandrazky is not very clever; he
      is a Silesian. He married an Englishwoman, whose fortune he soon
      dissipated, for he is a great gambler.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duchesse du Maine has fallen sick with rage, and that old Maintenon is
      said to be afflicted by the affair more than any other person. It was by
      her fault that they fell into this scrape, for she put it into their heads
      that it was unjust they should not reign, and that the kingdom belonged as
      much to them as King Solomon's did to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame d'Orleans weeps for her brother by day and night.
    </p>
    <p>
      They tried to arrest the Duc de Saint-Aignan at Pampeluna; but he effected
      his escape with his wife, and in disguise.
    </p>
    <p>
      When they carried away the Duc du Maine, he said, "I shall soon return,
      for my innocence will be speedily manifested; but I only speak for myself,
      my wife may not come back quite so soon."
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame d'Orleans cannot believe that her brother has been engaged in a
      conspiracy; she says it must have been his wife who acted in his name. The
      Princess, on the other hand, believes that her daughter is innocent, and
      that the Duc du Maine alone has carried on the plot.
    </p>
    <p>
      The factum is not badly drawn up. Our priest can write well enough when he
      likes; he drew it up, and my son corrected it.
    </p>
    <p>
      The more the affair is examined, the more clearly does the guilt of the
      Duke and Duchess appear; for three days ago, Malezieux, who is in the
      Bastille, gave up his writing-desk. The first thing that was found in it
      was a projet, which Malezieux had written at the Duchess's bedside, and
      which Cardinal de Polignac had corrected with his own hand. Malezieux
      pretends that it is a Spanish letter, addressed to the Duchess, and that
      he had translated it for her, with the assistance of the Cardinal de
      Polignac; and yet the letters of Alberoni to the Prince de Cellamara refer
      so directly to this projet that it is easy to see that they spring from
      the same source.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duchesse du Maine has made the Princess believe that the Duke (of
      Bourbon) was the cause of all this business, so that now he dare not
      appear before the latter, although he has always behaved with great
      respect and friendship towards her; while the Duc and Duchesse du Maine,
      on the contrary, have been engaged in a law-suit against her for five
      years. It was not until after the Princess had inherited the property of
      Monsieur de Vendome, that this worthy couple insinuated themselves into
      her good graces.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Parliament is reconciled to my son, and has pronounced its decree,
      which is favourable to him, and which is another proof that the Duc du
      Maine had excited it against him.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Jesuits have probably been also against my son; for all those who have
      declared against the Constitution cannot be friendly to him; they have,
      however, kept so quiet that nothing can be brought against them. They are
      cunning old fellows.
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame d'Orleans begins to recover her spirits and to laugh again,
      particularly since I learn she has consulted the Premier President and
      other persons, to know whether, upon my son's death, she would become the
      Regent. They told her that could not be, but that the office would fall
      upon the Duke. This answer is said to have been very unpalatable to her.
    </p>
    <p>
      If my son would have paid a price high enough to the Cardinal de Polignac,
      he would have betrayed them all. He is now consoling himself in his Abbey
      with translating Lucretius.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King of Spain's manifesto, instead of injuring my son, has been useful
      to him, because it was too violent and partial. Alberoni must needs be a
      brutal and an intemperate person. But how could a journeyman gardener know
      the language which ought to be addressed to crowned heads? Several
      thousand copies of this manifesto have been transmitted to Paris,
      addressed to all the persons in the Court, to all the Bishops, in short,
      to everybody; even to the Parliament, which has taken the affair up very
      properly, from Paris to Bordeaux, as the decree shows. I thought it would
      have been better to burn this manifesto in the post-office instead of
      suffering it to be spread about; but my son said they should all be
      delivered, for the express purpose of discovering the feelings of the
      parties to whom they were addressed, and a register of them was kept at
      the post-office. Those who were honest brought them of their own accord;
      the others kept them, and they are marked, without the public knowing
      anything about it. The manifesto is the work of Malezieux and the Cardinal
      de Polignac.
    </p>
    <p>
      A pamphlet has been cried about the streets, entitled, "Un arret contre
      les poules d'Inde." Upon looking at it, however, it seems to be a decree
      against the Jesuits, who had lost a cause respecting a priory, of which
      they had taken possession. Everybody bought it except the partisans of the
      Constitution and of the Spanish faction.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son is more fond of his daughters, legitimate and illegitimate, than
      his son.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duc and Duchesse du Maine rely upon nothing having been found in their
      writing; but Mademoiselle de Montauban and Malezieux have written. in
      their name; and is not what Pompadour has acknowledged voluntarily quite
      as satisfactory a proof as even their own writing?
    </p>
    <p>
      They have got the pieces of all the mischievous Spanish letters written by
      the same hand, and corrected by that of the Cardinal de Polignac, so that
      there can be no doubt of his having composed them.
    </p>
    <p>
      A manifesto, too, has been found in Malezieux's papers. It is well
      written, but not improved by the translation. Malezieux pretends that he
      only translated it before it was sent hence to Spain.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mademoiselle de Montauban and Mademoiselle de Launay, a person of some
      wit, who has kept up a correspondence with Fontenelle, and who was 'femme
      de chambre' to the Duchesse du Maine, have both been sent to the Bastille.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duc du Maine now repents that he followed his wife's advice; but it
      seems that he only followed the worst part of it.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duchesse d'Orleans has been for some days past persuading my son to go
      masked to a ball. She says that his daughter, the Duchesse de Berri, and
      I, make him pass for a coward by preventing him from going to balls and
      running about the town by night as he used to do before; and that he ought
      not to manifest the least symptom of fear. He replied that he knew he
      should give me great pain by doing so, and that the least he could do was
      to tranquillize my mind by living prudently. She then said that the
      Duchesse de Berri filled me with unfounded fears in order that she might
      have more frequent opportunities of being with him, and of governing him
      entirely. Can the Devil himself be worse than this bastard? It teaches me,
      however, that my son is not secure with her. I must do violence to myself
      that my suspicions may not be apparent.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son has not kept his word; he went to this ball, although he denies it.
    </p>
    <p>
      Although it is well known that Maintenon has had a hand in all these
      affairs, nothing can be said to her, for her name does not appear in any
      way.
    </p>
    <p>
      When my son is told of persons who hate him and who seek his life, he
      laughs and says, "They dare not; I am not so weak that I cannot defend
      myself." This makes me very angry.
    </p>
    <p>
      If the proofs against Malezieux are not manifest, and if they do not put
      the rogue upon his trial, it will be because his crime is so closely
      connected with that of the Duchesse du Maine that, in order to convict him
      before the Parliament, he must be confronted with her. Besides, as the
      Parliament is better disposed towards the Duc and Duchesse du Maine than
      to my son, they might be acquitted and taken out of his hands, which would
      make them worse than they are now. For this reason it is that they are
      looking for proofs so clear that the Parliament cannot refuse to pronounce
      upon them.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duc du Maine writes thus to his sister:
    </p>
    <p>
      "They ought not to have put me in prison; but they ought to have stripped
      me and put me into petticoats for having been thus led by my wife;" and he
      wrote to Madame de Langeron that he enjoyed perfect repose, for which he
      thanked God; that he was glad to be no longer exposed to the contempt of
      his family; and that his sons ought to be happy to be no longer with him.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King of Spain and Alberoni have a personal hatred against my son,
      which is the work of the Princesse des Ursins.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son is naturally brave, and fears nothing: death is not at all terrible
      to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      On the 29th of March the young Duc de Richelieu was taken to the Bastille:
      this caused a great number of tears to be shed, for he is universally
      loved. He had kept up a correspondence with Alberoni, and had got his
      regiment placed at Bayonne, together with that of his friend, M. de
      Saillant, for the purpose of delivering the town to the Spaniards. He went
      on Wednesday last to the Marquis de Biron, and urged him to despatch him
      as promptly as possible to join his regiment at Bayonne, and so prove the
      zeal which attached him to my son. His comrade, who passes for a coward
      and a sharper at play, has also been shut up in the Bastille.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [On the day that they were arrested, the Regent said he had that in
     his pocket which would cut off four heads, if the Duke had so many.
     &mdash;Memoires de Duclos.]
</pre>
    <p>
      The Duc de Richelieu had the portraits of his mistresses painted in all
      sorts of monastic habits: Mademoiselle de Charolais as a Recollette nun,
      and it is said to be very like her. The Marechales de Villars and
      d'Estrees are, it is said, painted as Capuchin nuns.
    </p>
    <p>
      When the Duc de Richelieu was shown his letter to Alberoni, he confessed
      all that concerned himself, but would not disclose his accomplices.
    </p>
    <p>
      Nothing but billets-doux were found in his writing-case. Alberoni in this
      affair trusted a man who had formerly been in his service, but who is now
      a spy of my son's. He brought Alberoni's letter to the Regent; who opened
      it, read it, had a copy made, resealed it, and sent it on to its
      destination. The young Duc de Richelieu answered it, but my son can make
      no use of this reply because the words in which it is written have a
      concealed sense.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Princess has strongly urged my son to permit the Duchesse du Maine to
      quit Dijon, under the pretext that the air was unwholesome for her. My son
      consented upon condition that she should be conducted in her own carriage,
      but under the escort of the King's Guard, from Dijon to Chalons-sur-Saone.
    </p>
    <p>
      Here she thought she should enjoy comparative liberty, and that the town
      would be her prison: she was much astonished to find that she was as
      closely confined at Chalons as at Dijon. When she asked the reason for
      this rigour she was told that all was discovered, and that the prisoners
      had disclosed the particulars of the conspiracy. She was immediately
      struck with this; but recovering her self-possession, she said, "The Duc
      de Orleans thinks that I hate him; but if he would take my advice, I would
      counsel him better than any other person." My son's wife remains very
      tranquil.
    </p>
    <p>
      On the 17th of April a rascal was brought in who was near surprising my
      son in the Bois de Boulogne a year ago. He is a dismissed colonel; his
      name is La Jonquiere. He had written to my son demanding enormous pensions
      and rewards; but meeting with a refusal, he went into Spain, where he
      promised Alberoni to carry off my son, and deliver him into his hands,
      dead or alive. He brought one hundred men with him, whom he put in
      ambuscade near Paris. He missed my son only by a quarter of an hour in the
      Bois de Boulogne, which the latter had passed through in his way to La
      Muette, where he went to dine with his daughter. La Jonquiere having thus
      failed, retired in great vexation to the Low Countries, where he boasted
      that, although he had missed this once, he would take his measures so much
      better in future that people should soon hear of a great blow being
      struck. This was luckily repeated to my son, who had him arrested at
      Liege. He sent a clever fellow to him, who caught him, and leading him out
      of the house where they were, he clapped a pistol to his throat, and
      threatened to shoot him on the spot if he did not go with him and without
      speaking a word. The rascal, overcome with terror, suffered himself to be
      taken to the boat, but when he saw that they were approaching the French
      territory he did not wish to go any further; he said he was ruined, and
      should be drawn and quartered. They bound him and carried him to the
      Bastille.
    </p>
    <p>
      I have exhorted my son to take care of himself, and not to go out but in a
      carriage. He has promised that he will not, but I cannot trust him.
    </p>
    <p>
      The late Monsieur was desirous that his son's wife should not be a
      coquette. This was not the particular which I so much disapproved of; but
      I wished the husband not to be informed of it, or that it should get
      abroad, which would have had no other effect than that of convincing my
      son that his wife had dishonoured him.
    </p>
    <p>
      I must never talk to my son about the conspiracy in the presence of Madame
      d'Orleans; it would be wounding her in the tenderest place; for all that
      concerns her brother is to her the law and the prophets.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son has so satisfactorily disproved the accusations of that old
      Maintenon and the Duc du Maine, that the King has believed him, and, after
      a minute examination, has done my son justice. But Madame d'Orleans has
      not conducted herself well in this affair; she has spread by means of her
      creatures many calumnies against my son, and has even said that he wanted
      to poison her. By such means she has made her peace with old Maintenon,
      who could not endure her before. I have often admired the patience with
      which my son suffers all this, when he knows it just as well as I do. If
      things had remained as Madame de Maintenon had arranged them at the death
      of the King, my son would only have been nominally Regent, and the Duc du
      Maine would actually have enjoyed all the power. She thought because my
      son was in the habit of running after women a little that he would be
      afraid of the labour, and that he would be contented with the title and a
      large pension, leaving her and the Duc du Maine to have their own way.
      This was her plan, and she fancied that her calumnies had so far succeeded
      in making my son generally despised that no person would be found to
      espouse his cause. But my son was not so unwise as to suffer all this; he
      pleaded his cause so well to the Parliament that the Government was
      entrusted to him, and yet the old woman did not relinquish her hopes until
      my son had the Duc du Maine arrested; then she fainted.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Pope's nuncio thrusts his nose into all the plots against my son; he
      may be a good priest, but he is nevertheless a wicked devil.
    </p>
    <p>
      On the 25th of April M. de Laval, the Duchesse de Roquelaure's brother,
      was arrested.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Pompadour has accused the Duc de Laval of acting in concert with the
      Prince de Cellamara, to whom, upon one occasion, he acted as coachman, and
      drove him to the Duchesse du Maine at the Arsenal. This Comte de Laval is
      always sick and covered with wounds; he wears a plaster which reaches from
      ear to ear; he is lame, and often has his arm in a sling; nevertheless, he
      is full of intrigue, and is engaged night and day in writing against my
      son.
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame de Maintenon is said to have sent large sums of money into the
      provinces for the purpose of stirring up the people against my son; but,
      thank God, her plan has not succeeded.
    </p>
    <p>
      The old woman has spread about the report that my son poisoned all the
      members of the Royal Family who have died lately. She hired one of the
      King's physicians first to spread this report. If Marechal, the King's
      surgeon, who was present at the opening of the bodies, had not stated that
      there was no appearance of poison, and confirmed that statement to the
      King, this infamous creature would have plunged my innocent son into a
      most deplorable situation.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mademoiselle de Charolais says that the affair of Bayonne cannot be true,
      for that the Duc de Richelieu did not tell her of it, and he never
      concealed anything from her. She says, too, that she will not see my son,
      for his having put the Duke into the Bastille.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duke walks about on the top of the terrace at the Bastille, with his
      hair dressed, and in an embroidered coat. All the ladies who pass stop
      their carriages to look at the pretty fellow.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [This young man, says Duclos, thought himself of some consequence
     when he was made a State prisoner, and endured his confinement with
     the same levity which he had always displayed in love, in business,
     or in war.  The Regent was much amused with him, and suffered him to
     have all he wanted-his valet de chambre, two footmen, music, cards,
     etc.; so that, although he was deprived of his liberty, he might be
     as licentious as ever.]
</pre>
    <p>
      Madame d'Orleans has been so little disposed to undertake her husband's
      defence in public, that she has pretended to believe the charges against
      him, although no person in the world knows better than she does that the
      whole is a lie. She sent to her brothers for a counter-poison, so that my
      son should not take her off by those means; and thus she reconciled
      Maintenon, who was at enmity with her. I learnt this story during the
      year, and I do not know whether my son is aware of it. I would not say
      anything to him about it, for I did not wish to embroil man and wife.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Abbe Dubois&mdash;[Madame probably means the Duc du Maine]&mdash;seems
      to think that we do not know how many times he went by night to Madame de
      Maintenon's, to help this fine affair.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son has been dissuaded from issuing the manifesto.
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame d'Orleans has at length quite regained her husband; and, following
      her advice, he goes about by night in a coach. On Wednesday night he set
      off for Anieres, where Parabere has a house. He supped there, and, getting
      into his carriage again, after midnight, he put his foot into a hole and
      sprained it.
    </p>
    <p>
      I am very much afraid my son will be attacked by the small-pox. He eats
      heavy suppers; he is short and fat, and just one of those persons whom the
      disease generally attacks.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Cardinal de Noailles has been pestering my son in favour of the Duc de
      Richelieu; and as it cannot be positively proved that he addressed the
      letter to Alberoni, they can do no more to him than banish him to
      Conflans, after six months' imprisonment. Mademoiselle de Charolais
      procured some one to ask my son secretly by what means she could see the
      Duc de Richelieu, and speak with him, before he set off for Conflans.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [This must have been a joke of Mademoiselle de Charolais; for she
     had already, together with Mademoiselle Valois, paid the Duke
     several visits in the Bastille.  When the Duke was sent to Conflans
     to the Cardinal de Noailles, he used to escape almost every night,
     and come to see his mistresses.  It was this that determined the
     Regent to send him to Saint-Germain en Laye; but, soon afterwards,
     Mademoiselle de Valois obtained from her father a pardon for her
     lover.&mdash;-Memoirs de Richelieu, tome iii., p. 171]
</pre>
    <p>
      My son replied, "that she had better speak to the Cardinal de Noailles;
      for as he was to conduct the Duke to Conflans, and keep him in his own
      house, he would know better than any other person how he might be spoken
      with." When she learnt that the Duke had arrived at Saint-Germain, she
      hastened thither immediately.
    </p>
    <p>
      I never doubted for a moment that my son's marriage was in every respect
      unfortunate; but my advice was not listened to. If the union had been a
      good one, that old Maintenon would not have insisted on it.
    </p>
    <p>
      Nothing less than millions are talked of on all sides: my sun has made me
      also richer by adding 130,000 livres to my pension.
    </p>
    <p>
      By what we hear daily of the insurrection in Bretagne, it seems that my
      son's enemies are more inveterate against him than ever. I do not know
      whether it is true, as has been said, that there was a conspiracy at
      Rochelle, and that the governor intended to give up the place to the
      Spaniards, but has fled; that ten officers were engaged in the plot, some
      of whom have been arrested, and the others have fled to Spain.
    </p>
    <p>
      I always took the Bishop of Soissons for an honest man. I knew him when he
      was only an Abbe, and the Duchess of Burgundy's almoner; but the desire to
      obtain a Cardinal's hat drives most of the Bishops mad. There is not one
      of them who does not believe that the more impertinently he behaves to my
      son about the Constitution, the more he will improve his credit with the
      Court of Rome, and the sooner become a Cardinal.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son, although he is Regent, never comes to see me, and never quits me,
      without kissing my hand before he embraces me; and he will not even take a
      chair if I hand it to him. He is not, however, at all timid, but chats
      familiarly with me, and we laugh and talk together like good friends.
    </p>
    <p>
      <a name="image-0005" id="image-0005">
      <!-- IMG --></a>
    </p>
    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
      <img src="images/p166.jpg" alt="The Regent and his Mother " width="100%" /><br />
    </div>
    <!-- IMAGE END -->
    <p>
      While the Dauphin was alive La Chouin behaved very ill to my son; she
      embroiled him with the Dauphin, and would neither speak to nor see him; in
      short, she was constantly opposed to him. And yet, when he learnt that she
      had fallen into poverty, he sent her money, and secured her a pension
      sufficient to live upon.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son gave me actions to the amount of two millions, which I distributed
      among my household. The King also took several millions for his own,
      household; all the Royal Family have had them; all the enfans and petits
      enfans de France, and the Princes of the blood.
    </p>
    <p>
      [This may be stock the M. Law floated in the Mississippi Company. D.W.]
    </p>
    <p>
      The old Court is doing its utmost to put people, out of conceit with Law's
      bank.
    </p>
    <p>
      I do not think that Lord Stair praises my son so much as he used to do,
      for they do not seem to be very good friends. After having received all
      kinds of civilities from my son, who has made him richer than ever he
      expected to be in his life, he has turned his back upon him, caused him
      numerous little troubles, and annoys him so much that my son would gladly
      be rid of him.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son was obliged to make a speech at the Bank, which was applauded.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
                                   1720
</pre>
    <p>
      They have been obliged to adopt severe measures in Bretagne; four persons
      of quality have been beheaded. One of them, who might have escaped by
      flying to Spain, would not go. When he was asked why, he said it had been
      predicted that he should die by sea (de la mer). Just before he was
      executed he asked the headsman what his name was.
    </p>
    <p>
      "My name is Sea (La Mer)," replied the man.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Then," said the nobleman, "I am undone."
    </p>
    <p>
      All Paris has been mourning at the cursed decree which Law has persuaded
      my son to make. I have received anonymous letters, stating that I have
      nothing to fear on my own account, but that my son shall be pursued with
      fire and sword; that the plan is laid and the affair determined on. From
      another quarter I have learnt that knives are sharpening for my son's
      assassination. The most dreadful news is daily reaching me. Nothing could
      appease the discontent until, the Parliament having assembled, two of its
      members were deputed to wait upon my son, who received them graciously,
      and, following their advice, annulled the decree, and so restored things
      to their former condition. This proceeding has not only quieted all Paris,
      but has reconciled my son (thank God) to the Parliament.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son wished by sending an embassy to give a public proof how much he
      wished for a reconciliation between the members of the Royal Family of
      England, but it was declined.
    </p>
    <p>
      The goldsmiths will work no longer, for they charge their goods at three
      times more than they are worth, on account of the bank-notes. I have often
      wished those bank-notes were in the depths of the infernal regions; they
      have given my son much more trouble than relief. I know not how many
      inconveniences they have caused him. Nobody in France has a penny; but,
      saving your presence, and to speak in plain palatine, there is plenty of
      paper.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
                    ..........................
</pre>
    <p>
      It is singular enough that my son should only become so firmly attached to
      his black Parabere, when she had preferred another and had formally
      dismissed him.
    </p>
    <p>
      Excepting the affair with Parabere, my son lives upon very good terms with
      his wife, who for her part cares very little about it; nothing is so near
      to her heart as her brother, the Duc du Maine. In a recent quarrel which
      she had with my son on this subject, she said she would retire to
      Rambouillet or Montmartre. "Wherever you please," he replied; "or wherever
      you think you will be most comfortable." This vexed her so mach that she
      wept day and night about it.
    </p>
    <p>
      On the 17th of June, while I was at the Carmelites, Madame de
      Chateau-Thiers came to see me, and said to me, "M. de Simiane is come from
      the Palais Royal; and he thinks it fit you should know that on your return
      you will find all the courts filled with the people who, although they do
      not say anything, will not disperse. At six o'clock this morning they
      brought in three dead bodies which M. Le Blanc has had removed. M. Law has
      taken refuge in the Palais Royal: they have done him no harm; but his
      coach man was stoned as he returned, and the carriage broken to pieces. It
      was the coachman's fault, who told them 'they were a rabble, and ought to
      be hanged.'" I saw at once that it would not do to seem to be intimidated,
      so I ordered the coach to be driven to the Palais Royal. There was such a
      press of carriages that I was obliged to wait a full hour before I reached
      the rue Saint-Honore; then I heard the people talking: they did not say
      anything against my son; they gave me several benedictions, and demanded
      that Law should be hanged. When I reached the Palais Royal all was calm
      again. My son came to me, and in the midst of my anxiety he was perfectly
      tranquil, and even made me laugh.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Le Blanc went with great boldness into the midst of the irritated
      populace and harangued them. He had the bodies of the men who had been
      crushed to death in the crowd brought away, and succeeded in quieting
      them.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son is incapable of being serious and acting like a father with his
      children; he lives with them more like a brother than a father.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Parliament not only opposed the edict, and would not allow it to pass,
      but also refused to give any opinion, and rejected the affair altogether.
      For this reason my son had a company of the footguard placed on Sunday
      morning at the entrance of the palace to prevent their assembling; and, at
      the same time, he addressed a letter to the Premier-President, and to the
      Parliament a 'lettre-de-cachet', ordering them to repair to Pontoise to
      hold their sittings. The next day, when the musketeers had relieved the
      guards, the young fellows, not knowing what to do to amuse themselves,
      resolved to play at a parliament. They elected a chief and other
      presidents, the King's ministers, and the advocates. These things being
      settled, and having received a sausage and a pie for breakfast, they
      pronounced a sentence, in which they condemned the sausage to be cooked
      and the pie to be cut up.
    </p>
    <p>
      All these things make me tremble for my son. I receive frequently
      anonymous letters full of dreadful menaces against him, assuring me that
      two hundred bottles of wine have been poisoned for him, and, if this
      should fail, that they will make use of a new artificial fire to burn him
      alive in the Palais Royal.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is too true that Madame d'Orleans loves her brother better than her
      husband.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duc du Maine says that if, by his assistance, the King should obtain
      the direction of his own affairs, he would govern him entirely, and would
      be more a monarch than the King, and that after my son's death he would
      reign with his sister.
    </p>
    <p>
      A week ago I received letters in which they threatened to burn my son at
      the Palais Royal and me at Saint Cloud. Lampoons are circulated in Paris.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son has already slept several times at the Tuileries, but I fear that
      the King will not be able to accustom himself to his ways, for my son
      could never in his life play with children: he does not like them.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was once beloved, but since the arrival of that cursed Law he is hated
      more and more. Not a week passes without my receiving by the post letters
      filled with frightful threats, in which my son is spoken of as a bad man
      and a tyrant.
    </p>
    <p>
      I have just now received a letter in which he is threatened with poison.
      When I showed it to him he did nothing but laugh, and said the Persian
      poison could not be given to him, and that all that was said about it was
      a fable.
    </p>
    <p>
      To-morrow the Parliament will return to Paris, which will delight the
      Parisians as much as the departure of Law.
    </p>
    <p>
      That old Maintenon has sent the Duc du Maine about to tell the members of
      the Royal Family that my son poisoned the Dauphin, the Dauphine, and the
      Duc de Berri. The old woman has even done more she has hinted to the
      Duchess that she is not secure in her husband's house, and that she should
      ask her brother for a counter-poison, as she herself was obliged to do
      during the latter days of the King's life.
    </p>
    <p>
      The old woman lives very retired. No one can say that any imprudent
      expressions have escaped her. This makes me believe that she has some plan
      in her head, but I cannot guess what it is.
    </p>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_SECT11" id="link2H_SECT11">
      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XI.&mdash;THE DUCHESSE D'ORLEANS, WIFE OF THE REGENT.
    </h2>
    <p>
      If, by shedding my own blood, I could have prevented my son's marriage, I
      would willingly have done so; but since the thing was done, I have had no
      other wish than to preserve harmony. Monsieur behaved to her with great
      attention during the first month, but as soon as he suspected that she
      looked with too favourable an eye upon the Chevalier du Roye,
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [Bartholemi de La Rochefoucauld, at first Chevalier de Roye, but
     afterwards better known by the title of Marquis de La Rochefoucauld.
     He was Captain of the Duchesse de Berri's Body-Guards, and he died
     in 1721.]
</pre>
    <p>
      he hated her as the Devil. To prevent an explosion, I was obliged daily to
      represent to him that he would dishonour himself, as well as his son, by
      exposing her conduct, and would infallibly bring upon himself the King's
      displeasure. As no person had been less favourable to this marriage than
      I, he could not suspect but that I was moved, not from any love for my
      daughter-in-law, but from the wish to avoid scandal and out of affection
      to my son and the whole family. While all eclat was avoided, the public
      were at least in doubt about the matter; by an opposite proceeding their
      suspicions would have been confirmed.
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame d'Orleans looks older than she is; for she paints beyond all
      measure, so that she is often quite red. We frequently joke her on this
      subject, and she even laughs at it herself. Her nose and cheeks are
      somewhat pendant, and her head shakes like an old woman: this is in
      consequence of the small-pox. She is often ill, and always has a
      fictitious malady in reserve. She has a true and a false spleen; whenever
      she complains, my son and I frequently rally her about it. I believe that
      all the indispositions and weaknesses she has proceed from her always
      lying in bed or on a sofa; she eats and drinks reclining, through mere
      idleness; she has not worn stays since the King's death; she never could
      bring herself to eat with the late King, her own father, still less would
      she with me. It would then be necessary for her to sit upon a stool, and
      she likes better to loll upon a sofa or sit in an arm-chair at a small
      table with her favourite, the Duchess of Sforza. She admits her son, and
      sometimes Mademoiselle d'Orleans. She is so indolent that she will not
      stir; she would like larks ready roasted to drop into her mouth; she eats
      and walks slowly, but eats enormously. It is impossible to be more idle
      than she is: she admits this herself; but she does not attempt to correct
      it: she goes to bed early that she may lie the longer. She never reads
      herself, but when she has the spleen she makes her women read her to
      sleep. Her complexion is good, but less so than her second daughter's. She
      walks a little on one side, which Madame de Ratzenhausen calls walking by
      ear. She does not think that there is her equal in the world for beauty,
      wit, and perfection of all kinds. I always compare her to Narcissus, who
      died of self-admiration. She is so vain as to think she has more sense
      than her husband, who has a great deal; while her notions are not in the
      slightest degree elevated. She lives much in the femme-de-chambre style;
      and, indeed, loves this society better than that of persons of birth. The
      ladies are often a week together without seeing her; for without being
      summoned they cannot approach her. She does not know how to live as the
      wife of a prince should, having been educated like the daughter of a
      citizen. A long time had elapsed before she and her younger brother were
      legitimated by the King; I do not know for what reason.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [This legitimation presented great difficulties during the life of
     the Marquis de Montespan.  M. Achille de Harlai, Procureur-General
     du Parliament, helped to remove them by having the Chevalier de
     Longueville, son of the Duke of that name and of the Marechale de la
     Feste, recognized without naming his mother.  This once done, the
     children of the King and of Madame de Montespan were legitimated in
     the same manner.]
</pre>
    <p>
      When they arrived at Court their conversation was exactly like that of the
      common people.
    </p>
    <p>
      In my opinion my son's wife has no charms at all; her physiognomy does not
      please me. I don't know whether my son loves her much, but I know she does
      what she pleases with him. The populace and the femmes de chambre are fond
      of her; but she is not liked elsewhere. She often goes to the Salut at the
      Quinze Vingts; and her women are ordered to say that. she is a saint, who
      suffers my son to be surrounded by mistresses without complaining. This
      secures the pity of the populace and makes her pass for one of the best of
      wives, while, in fact; she is, like her elder brother, full of artifice.
    </p>
    <p>
      She is very superstitious. Some years ago a nun of Fontevrault, called
      Madame de Boitar, died. Whenever Madame d'Orleans loses anything she
      promises to this nun prayers for the redemption of her soul from
      purgatory, and then does not doubt that she shall find what she has lost.
      She piques herself upon being extremely pious; but does not consider lying
      and deceit are the works of the Devil and not of God. Ambition, pride and
      selfishness have entirely spoilt her. I fear she will not make a good end.
      That I may live in peace I seem to shut my eyes to these things. My son
      often, in allusion to her pride, calls her Madame Lucifer. She is not
      backward in believing everything complimentary that is said to her.
      Montespan, old Maintenon, and all the femmes de chambre have made her
      believe that she did my son honour in marrying him; and she is so vain of
      her own birth and that of her brothers and sisters that she will not hear
      a word said against them; she will not see any difference between
      legitimate and illegitimate children.
    </p>
    <p>
      She wishes to reign; but she knows nothing of true grandeur, having been
      educated in too low a manner. She might live well as a simple duchess; but
      not as one of the Royal Family of France. It is too true that she has
      always been ambitious of possessing, not my son's heart, but his power;
      she is always in fear lest some one else should govern him. Her
      establishment is well regulated; my son has always let her be mistress in
      this particular. As to her children, I let them go on in their own way;
      they were brought here without my consent, and it is for others to take
      care of them. Sometimes she displays more affection for her brother than
      even for her children. An ambitious woman as she is, having it put into
      her head by her brother that she ought to be the Regent, can love none but
      him. She would like to see him Regent better than her husband, because he
      has persuaded her that she shall reign with him; she believes it firmly,
      although every one else knows that his own wife is too ambitious to permit
      any one but herself to reign. Besides her ambition she has a great deal of
      ill-temper. She will never pardon either the nun of Chelles or
      Mademoiselle de Valois, because they did not like her nephew with the long
      lips. Her anger is extremely bitter, and she will never forgive. She loves
      only her relations on the maternal side. Madame de Sforza, her favourite,
      is the daughter of Madame de Thianges, Madame de Montespan's sister, and
      therefore a cousin of Madame d'Orleans, who hates her sister and her
      nephew worse than the Devil.
    </p>
    <p>
      I could forgive her all if she were not so treacherous. She flatters me
      when I am present, but behind my back she does all in her power to set the
      Duchesse de Berri against me; she tells her not to believe that I love
      her, but that I wish to have her sister with me. Madame d'Orleans believes
      that her daughter, Madame de Berri, loves her less than her father. It is
      true that the daughter has not a very warm attachment to her mother, but
      she does her duty to her; and yet the more they are full of mutual
      civilities the more they quarrel. On the 4th of October, 1718, Madame de
      Berri having invited her father to go and sleep at La Muette, to see the
      vintage feast and dance which were to be held on the next day. Madame
      d'Orleans wrote to Madame de Berri, and asked her if she thought it
      consistent with the piety of the Carmelites that she should ask her father
      to sleep in her house. Madame de Berri replied that it had never been
      thought otherwise than pious that a parent should sleep in his daughter's
      house. The mother did this only to annoy her husband and daughter, and
      when she chooses she has a very cutting way. It may be imagined how this
      letter was received by the father and daughter. I arrived at La Muette
      just as it had come. My son dare not complain to me, for as often as he
      does, I say to him, "George Dandin, you would have it so:"&mdash;[Moliere]&mdash;he
      therefore only laughed and said nothing. I did not wish to add to the
      bitterness which this had occasioned, for that would have been to blow a
      fire already too hot; I confined myself, therefore, to observing that when
      she wrote it she probably had the spleen.
    </p>
    <p>
      She is not very fond of her children, and, as I think, she carries her
      indifference too far; for the children see she does not love them, and
      this makes them fond of being with me. This angers the mother, and she
      reproaches them for it, which only makes them like her less.
    </p>
    <p>
      Although she loves her son, she does not in general care so much for her
      children as for her brothers, and all who belong to the House of
      Mortemart.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was the unintentional cause of making a quarrel between her and the nun
      of Chelles. At the commencement of the affair of the Duc du Maine, I
      received a letter from my daughter addressed to Madame d'Orleans; and not
      thinking that it was for the Abbess, who bears the same title with her
      mother, I sent it to the latter. This letter happened, unluckily, to be an
      answer to one of our Nun's, in which she had very plainly said what she
      thought of the Duc and Duchesse du Maine, and ended by pitying her father
      for being the Duke's brother-in-law, and for having contracted an alliance
      so absurd and injurious. It may be guessed whether my daughter's answer
      was palatable to my daughter-in-law. I am very sorry that I made the
      mistake; but what right had she to read a letter which was not meant for
      her?
    </p>
    <p>
      The new Abbess of Chelles has had a great difference with her mother, who
      says she will never forgive her for having agreed with her father to
      embrace the religious profession without her knowledge. The daughter said
      that, as her mother had always taken the side of the former Abbess against
      her, she had not confided this secret to her, from a conviction that she
      would oppose it to please the Abbess. This threw the mother into a
      paroxysm of grief. She said she was very unhappy both in her husband and
      her children; that her husband was the most unjust person in the world,
      for that he kept her brother-in-law in prison, who was one of the best and
      most pious of men&mdash;in short, a perfect saint; and that God would
      punish such wickedness. The daughter replied it was respect for her mother
      that kept her silent; and the latter became quite furious. This shows that
      she hates us like the very Devil, and that she loves none but her lame
      brother, and those who love him or are nearly connected with him.
    </p>
    <p>
      She thinks there never was so perfect a being in the world as her mother.
      She cannot quite persuade herself that she was ever Queen, because she
      knew the Queen too well, who always called her daughter, and treated her
      better than her sisters; I cannot tell why, because she was not the most
      amiable of them.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is quite true that there is little sympathy between my son's wife and
      me; but we live together as politely as possible. Her singular conduct
      shall never prevent me from keeping that promise which I made to the late
      King in his last moments. He gave some good Christian exhortations to
      Madame d'Orleans; but, as the proverb says, it is useless to preach to
      those who have no heart to act.
    </p>
    <p>
      In the spring of this year (1718) her brothers and relations said that but
      for the antidotes which had been administered to Madame d'Orleans, without
      the knowledge of me or my son, she must have perished.
    </p>
    <p>
      I had resolved not to interfere with anything respecting this affair; but
      had the satisfaction of speaking my mind a little to Madame du Maine. I
      said to her: "Niece" (by which appellation I always addressed her), "I beg
      you will let me know who told you that Madame d'Orleans had taken a
      counterpoison unknown to us. It is the greatest falsehood that ever was
      uttered, and you may say so from me to whoever told it you."
    </p>
    <p>
      She looked red, and said, "I never said it was so."
    </p>
    <p>
      "I am very glad of it, niece," I replied; "for it would be very
      disgraceful to you to have said so, and you ought not to allow people to
      bring you such tales." When she heard this she went off very quickly.
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame d'Orleans is a little inconstant in her friendship. She is very
      fond of jewels, and once wept for four-and-twenty hours because my son
      gave a pair of beautiful pendants to Madame de Berri.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son has this year (1719) increased his wife's income by 160,000 livres,
      the arrears of which have been paid to her from 1716, so that she received
      at once the sum of 480,000 livres. I do not envy her this money, but I
      cannot bear the idea that she is thus paid for her infidelity. One must,
      however, be silent.
    </p>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_SECT12" id="link2H_SECT12">
      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XII.&mdash;MARIE-ANNE CHRISTINE VICTOIRE OF BAVARIA, THE FIRST
      DAUPHINE.
    </h2>
    <p>
      She was ugly, but her extreme politeness made her very agreeable. She
      loved the Dauphin more like a son than a husband. Although he loved her
      very well, he wished to live with her in an unceremonious manner, and she
      agreed to it to please him. I used often to laugh at her superstitious
      devotion, and undeceived her upon many of her strange opinions. She spoke
      Italian very well, but her German was that of the peasants of the country.
      At first, when she and Bessola were talking together, I could not
      understand a word.
    </p>
    <p>
      She always manifested the greatest friendship and confidence in me to the
      end of her days. She was not haughty, but as it had become the custom to
      blame everything she did, she was somewhat disdainful. She had a favourite
      called Bessola&mdash;a false creature, who had sold her to Maintenon. But
      for the infatuated liking she had for this woman, the Dauphine would have
      been much happier. Through her, however, she was made one of the most
      wretched women in the world.
    </p>
    <p>
      This Bessola could not bear that the Dauphine should speak to any person
      but herself: she was mercenary and jealous, and feared that the friendship
      of the Dauphine for any one else would discredit her with Maintenon, and
      that her mistress's liberality to others would diminish that which she
      hoped to experience herself. I told this person the truth once, as she
      deserved to be told, in the presence of the Dauphine; from which period
      she has neither done nor said anything troublesome to me. I told the
      Dauphine in plain German that it was a shame that she should submit to be
      governed by Bessola to such a degree that she could not speak to whom she
      chose. I said this was not friendship, but a slavery, which was the
      derision of the Court.
    </p>
    <p>
      Instead of being vexed at this, she laughed, and said, "Has not everybody
      some weakness? Bessola is mine."
    </p>
    <p>
      This wench often put me in an ill-humour: at last I lost all patience, and
      could no longer restrain myself. I would often have told her what I
      thought, but that I saw it would really distress the poor Dauphine: I
      therefore restrained myself, and said to her, "Out of complaisance to you,
      I will be silent; but give such orders that Bessola may not again rouse
      me, otherwise I cannot promise but that I may say something she will not
      like."
    </p>
    <p>
      The Dauphine thanked me affectionately, and thus more than ever engaged my
      silence.
    </p>
    <p>
      When the Dauphine arrived from Bavaria, the fine Court of France was on
      the decline: it was at the commencement of Maintenon's reign, which spoilt
      and degraded everything. It was not, therefore, surprising that the poor
      Dauphine should regret her own country. Maintenon annoyed her immediately
      after her marriage in such a manner as must have excited pity. The
      Dauphine had made her own marriage; she had hoped to be uncontrolled, and
      to become her own mistress; but she was placed in that Maintenon's hands,
      who wanted to govern her like a child of seven years old, although she was
      nineteen. That old Maintenon, piqued at the Dauphine for wishing to hold a
      Court, as she should have done, turned the King against her. Bessola
      finished this work by betraying and selling her; and thus was the
      Dauphine's misery accomplished! By selecting me for her friend, she filled
      up the cup of Maintenon's hatred, who was paying Bessola; because she knew
      she was jealous of me, and that I had advised the Dauphine not to keep
      her, for I was quite aware that she had secret interviews with Maintenon.
    </p>
    <p>
      That lady had also another creature in the Dauphine's household: this was
      Madame de Montchevreuil, the gouvernante of the Dauphine's filles
      d'honneur. Madame de Maintenon had engaged her to place the Dauphin upon
      good terms with the filles d'honneur, and she finished by estranging him
      altogether from his wife. During her pregnancy, which, as well as her
      lying-in, was extremely painful, the Dauphine could not go out; and this
      Montchevreuil took advantage of the opportunity thus afforded her to
      introduce the filles d'honneur to the Dauphin to hunt and game with him.
      He became fond, in his way, of the sister of La Force, who was afterwards
      compelled to marry young Du Roure. The attachment continued,
      notwithstanding this marriage; and she procured the Dauphin's written
      promise to marry her in case of the death of the Dauphine and her husband.
      I do not know how the late King became acquainted with this fact; but it
      is certain that he was seriously angered at it, and that he banished Du
      Roure to Gascony, his native country. The Dauphin had an affair of
      gallantry with another of his wife's filles d'honneur called Rambures. He
      did not affect any dissimulation with his wife; a great uproar ensued; and
      that wicked Bessola, following the directions of old Maintenon, who
      planned everything, detached the Dauphin from his wife more and more. The
      latter was not very fond of him; but what displeased her in his amours was
      that they exposed her to be openly and constantly ridiculed and insulted.
      Montchevreuil made her pay attention to all that passed, and Bessola kept
      up her anger against her husband.
    </p>
    <p>
      Maintenon had caused it to be reported among the people by her agents that
      the Dauphine hated France, and that she urged the imposition of new taxes.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Dauphine was so ill-treated in her accouchement of the Duc de Berri
      that she became quite deformed, although previous to this her figure had
      been remarkably good. On the evening before she died, as the little Duke
      was sitting on her bed, she said to him, "My dear Berri, I love you very
      much, but I have paid dearly for you." The Dauphin was not grieved at her
      death; old Montchevreuil had told him so many lies of his wife that he
      could not love her. That old Maintenon hoped, when this event happened,
      that she should be able to govern the Duke by means of his mistresses,
      which could not have been if he had continued to be attached to his wife.
      This old woman had conceived so violent a hatred against the poor
      Princess, that I do believe she prevailed on Clement, the accoucheur, to
      treat her ill in her confinement; and what confirms me in this is that she
      almost killed her by visiting her at that time in perfumed gloves. She
      said it was I who wore them, which was untrue. I would not swear that the
      Dauphine did not love Bessola better than her husband; she deserved no
      such attachment. I often apprised her mistress of her perfidy, but she
      would not believe me.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Dauphine used to say, "We are two unhappy persons, but there is this
      difference between us: you endeavoured, as much as you could, to avoid
      coming here; while I resolved to do so at all events. I have therefore
      deserved my misery more than you."
    </p>
    <p>
      They wanted to make her pass for crazy, because she was always
      complaining. Some hours before her death she said to me, "I shall convince
      them to-day that I was not mad in complaining of my sufferings." She died
      calmly and easily; but she was as much put to death as if she had been
      killed by a pistol-shot.
    </p>
    <p>
      When her funeral service was performed I carried the taper (nota bene) and
      some pieces of gold to the Bishop who performed the grand mass, and who
      was sitting in an arm-chair near the altar. The prelate intended to have
      given them to his assistants, the priests of the King's chapel; but the
      monks of Saint Denis ran to him with great eagerness, exclaiming that the
      taper and the gold belonged to them. They threw themselves upon the
      Bishop, whose chair began to totter, and made his mitre fall from his
      head. If I had stayed there a moment longer the Bishop, with all the
      monks, would have fallen upon me. I descended the four steps of the altar
      in great haste, for I was nimble enough at that time, and looked on the
      battle at a distance, which appeared so comical that I could not but
      laugh, and everybody present did the same.
    </p>
    <p>
      That wicked Bessola, who had tormented the Dauphine day and night, and had
      made her distrust every one who approached her, and thus separated her
      from all the world, returned home a year after her mistress's death.
      Before her departure she played another trick by having a box made with a
      double bottom, in which she concealed jewels and ready money to the amount
      of 100,000 francs; and all this time she went about weeping and
      complaining that, after so many years of faithful service, she was
      dismissed as poor as a beggar. She did not know that her contrivance had
      been discovered at the Customhouse and that the King had been apprised of
      it. He ordered her to be sent for, showed her the things which she had
      prepared to carry away, and said he thought she had little reason to
      complain of the Dauphine's parsimony. It may be imagined how foolish she
      looked. The King added that, although he might withhold them from her, yet
      to show her that she had done wrong in acting clandestinely, and in
      complaining as she had done, he chose to restore her the whole.
    </p>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_SECT13" id="link2H_SECT13">
      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XIII.&mdash;ADELAIDE OF SAVOY, THE SECOND DAUPHINE.
    </h2>
    <p>
      The Queen of Spain stayed longer with her mother than our Dauphine, and
      therefore was better educated. Maintenon, who understood nothing about
      education, permitted her to do whatever she pleased, that she might gain
      her affections and keep her to herself. This young lady had been well
      brought up by her virtuous mother; she was genteel and humorous, and could
      joke very pleasantly: when she had a colour she did not look ugly. No one
      can imagine what mad-headed people were about this Princess, and among the
      number was the Marechale d'Estrees. Maintenon was very properly
      recompensed for having given her these companions; for the consequence was
      that the Dauphine no longer liked her society. Maintenon was very desirous
      to know the reason of this, and teased the Princess to tell her. At length
      she did; and said that the Marechale d'Estrees was continually asking her,
      "What are you always doing with that old woman? Why do you not associate
      with folks who would amuse you more than that old skeleton?" and that she
      said many other uncivil things of her. Maintenon told me this herself,
      since the death of the Dauphine, to prove that it was only the Marechale's
      fault that the Dauphine had been on such bad terms with me. This may be
      partly true; but it is no less certain that Maintenon had strongly
      prepossessed her against me. Almost all the foolish people who were about
      her were relations or friends of the old woman; and it was by her order
      that they endeavoured to amuse her and employ her, so that she might want
      no other society.
    </p>
    <p>
      The young Dauphine was full of pantomime tricks. * * * * She was fond,
      too, of collecting a quantity of young persons about her for the King's
      amusement, who liked to see their sports; they, however, took care never
      to display any but innocent diversions before him: he did not learn the
      rest until after her death. The Dauphine used to call old Maintenon her
      aunt, but only in jest; the fines d'honneur called her their gouvernante,
      and the Marechale de La Mothe, mamma; if the Dauphine had also called the
      old woman her mamma, it would have been regarded as a declaration of the
      King's marriage; for this reason she only called her aunt.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is not surprising that the Dauphine, even when she was Duchess of
      Burgundy, should have been a coquette. One of Maintenon's maxims was that
      there was no harm in coquetry, but that a grande passion only was a sin.
      In the second place, she never took care that the Duchess of Burgundy
      behaved conformably to her rank; she was often left quite alone in her
      chateau with the exception of her people; she was permitted to run about
      arm-in-arm with one of her young ladies, without esquires, or dames
      d'honneur or d'atour. At Marly and Versailles she was obliged to go to
      chapel on foot and without her stays, and seat herself near the femmes de
      chambre. At Madame de Maintenon's there was no observance of ranks; every
      one sat down there promiscuously; she did this for the purpose of avoiding
      all discussion respecting her own rank. At Marly the Dauphine used to run
      about the garden at night with the young people until two or three o'clock
      in the morning. The King knew nothing of these nocturnal sports. Maintenon
      had forbidden the Duchesse de Lude to tease the Duchess of Burgundy, or to
      put her out of temper, because then she would not be able to divert the
      King. Maintenon had threatened, too, with her eternal vengeance whoever
      should be bold enough to complain of the Dauphine to the King. It was for
      this reason that no one dared tell the King what the whole Court and even
      strangers were perfectly well acquainted with. The Dauphine liked to be
      dragged along the ground by valets, who held her feet. These servants were
      in the habit of saying to each other, "Come, shall we go and play with the
      Duchess of Burgundy?" for so she was at this time. She was dreadfully
      nasty,
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
                    .............................
</pre>
    <p>
      She made the Dauphin believe whatever she chose, and he was so fond of her
      that one of her glances would throw him into an ecstacy and make him
      forget everything. When the King intended to scold her she would put on an
      air of such deep dejection that he was obliged to console her instead; the
      aunt, too, used to affect similar sorrow, so that the King had enough to
      do with consoling them both. Then, for quietness' sake, he used to lean
      upon the old aunt, and think nothing more about the matter.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Dauphine never cared for the Duc de Richelieu, although he boasted of
      the contrary, and was sent to the Bastille for it. She was a coquette, and
      chatted with all the young men; but if she loved any of them it was
      Nangis, who commanded the King's regiment. She had commanded him to
      pretend to be in love with little La Vrilliere, who, though not so pretty
      nor with so good a presence as the Dauphine, had a better figure and was a
      great coquette. This badinage, it is said, afterwards became reality. The
      good Dauphin was like the husbands of all frail wives, the last to
      perceive it. The Duke of Burgundy never imagined that his wife thought of
      Nangis, although it was visible to all the world besides that she did. As
      he was very much attached to Nangis, he believed firmly that his wife only
      behaved civilly to him on his account; and he was besides convinced that
      his favourite had at the same time an affair of gallantry with Madame la
      Vrilliere.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Dauphin had good sense, but he suffered his wife to govern him; he
      loved only such persons as she loved, and he hated all who were
      disagreeable to her. It was for this reason that Nangia enjoyed so much of
      his favour, that he, with all his sense, became so perfectly ridiculous.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Dauphine of Burgundy was the person whom the King loved above all
      others, and whom Maintenon had taught to do whatever was agreeable to him.
      Her natural wit made her soon learn and practise everything. The King was
      inconsolable for her death; and when La Maintenon saw that all she could
      say had no effect upon his grief, it is said that she told the King all
      that she had before concealed with respect to the Dauphine's life, and by
      this means dissipated his great affliction.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [This young lady, so fascinating and so dear to the King, betrayed,
     nevertheless, the secrets of the State by informing her father, then
     Duke of Savoy, and our enemy, of all the military projects which she
     found means to read.  The King had the proofs of this by the letters
     which were found in the Princess's writing case after her death.
     "That little slut," said he to Madame Maintenon, "has deceived us."
     Memoires de Duclos, tome i.]
</pre>
    <p>
      Three years before her death, however, the Dauphine changed greatly for
      the better; she played no more foolish tricks, and left off drinking to
      excess. Instead of that untameable manner which she had before, she became
      polite and sensible, kept up her dignity, and did not permit the younger
      ladies to be too familiar with her, by dipping their fingers into her
      dish, rolling upon the bed, and other similar elegancies. She used to
      converse with people, and could talk very well. It was the marriage of
      Madame de Berri that effected this surprising change in the Dauphine.
      Seeing that young lady did not make herself beloved, and began things in
      the wrong way, she was desirous to make herself more liked and esteemed
      than she was. She therefore changed her behaviour entirely; she became
      reserved and reasonable, and, having sense enough to discover her defects,
      she set about correcting them, in which she succeeded so as to excite
      general surprise. Thus she continued until her death, and often expressed
      regret that she had led so irregular a life. She used to excuse herself by
      saying it was mere childishness, and that she had little to thank those
      young ladies for who had given her such bad advice and set her such bad
      examples. She publicly manifested her contempt for them, and prevailed on
      the King not to invite them to Marly in future. By this conduct she gained
      everybody's affection.
    </p>
    <p>
      She was delicate and of rather a weak constitution. Dr. Chirac said in her
      last illness that she would recover; and so she probably would have done
      if they had not permitted her to get up when the measles had broken out
      upon her, and she was in a copious perspiration. Had they not blooded her
      in the foot she might have been alive now (1716). Immediately after the
      bleeding, her skin, before as red as fire, changed to the paleness of
      death, and she became very ill. When they were lifting her out of bed I
      told them it was better to let the perspiration subside before they
      blooded her. Chirac and Fagon, however, were obstinate and laughed at me.
    </p>
    <p>
      Old Maintenon said to me angrily, "Do you think you know better than all
      these medical men?"
    </p>
    <p>
      "No, Madame," I replied; "and one need not know much to be sure that the
      inclination of nature ought to be followed; and since that has displayed
      itself it would be better to let it have way, than to make a sick person
      get up in the midst of a perspiration to be blooded."
    </p>
    <p>
      She shrugged up her shoulders ironically. I went to the other side and
      said nothing.
    </p>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_SECT14" id="link2H_SECT14">
      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XIV.&mdash;THE FIRST DAUPHIN.
    </h2>
    <p>
      All that was good in the first Dauphin came from his preceptor; all that
      was bad from himself. He never either loved or hated any one much, and yet
      he was very wicked. His greatest pleasure was to do something to vex a
      person; and immediately afterwards, if he could do something very pleasing
      to the same person, he would set about it with great willingness. In every
      respect he was of the strangest temper possible: when one thought he was
      good-humoured, he was angry; and when one supposed him to be ill-humoured,
      he was in an amiable mood. No one could ever guess him rightly, and I do
      not believe that his like ever was or ever will be born. It cannot be said
      that he had much wit; but still less was he a fool. Nobody was ever more
      prompt to seize the ridiculous points of anything in himself or in others;
      he told stories agreeably; he was a keen observer, and dreaded nothing so
      much as to be one day King: not so much from affection for his father, as
      from a dread of the trouble of reigning, for he was so extremely idle that
      he neglected all things; and he would have preferred his ease to all the
      kingdoms and empires of the earth. He could remain for a whole day,
      sitting on a sofa or in an arm-chair, beating his cane against his shoes,
      without saying a word; he never gave an opinion upon any subject; but when
      once, in the course of the year, he did speak, he could express himself in
      terms sufficiently noble. Sometimes when he spoke one would say he was
      stupidity itself; at another time he would deliver himself with
      astonishing sense. At one time you would think he was the best Prince in
      the world; at another he would do all he could to give people pain. Nobody
      seemed to be so ill with him but he would take the trouble of making them
      laugh at the expense of those most dear to him. His maxim was, never to
      seem to like one man in the Court better than another. He had a perfect
      horror of favourites, and yet he sought favour himself as much as the
      commonest courtier could do. He did not pride himself upon his politeness,
      and was enraged when any one penetrated his intentions. As I had known him
      from his infancy I could sometimes guess his meaning, which angered him
      excessively. He was not very fond of being treated respectfully; he liked
      better not to be put to any trouble. He was rather partial than just, as
      may be shown by the regulations he made as to the rank of my son's
      daughter. He never liked or hated any Minister. He laughed often and
      heartily. He was a very obedient son, and never opposed the King's will in
      any way, and was more submissive to Maintenon than any other person. Those
      who say that he would have retired, if the King had declared his marriage
      with that old woman, did not know him; had he not an old mistress of his
      own, to whom he was believed to be privately married? What prevented
      Maintenon from being declared Queen was the wise reasons which the
      Archbishop of Cambray, M. de Fenelon, urged to the King, and for which she
      persecuted that worthy man to the day of his death.
    </p>
    <p>
      If the Dauphin had chosen, he might have enjoyed greater credit with his
      father. The King had offered him permission to go to the Royal Treasury to
      bestow what favours he chose upon the persons of his own Court; and at the
      Treasury orders were given that he should have whatever he asked for. The
      Dauphin replied that it would give him so much trouble. He would never
      know anything about State affairs lest he should be obliged to attend the
      Privy Councils, and have no more time to hunt. Some persons thought he did
      this from motives of policy and to make the King believe he had no
      ambition; but I am persuaded it was from nothing but indolence and
      laziness; he loved to live a slothful life, and to interfere with nothing.
    </p>
    <p>
      At the King of Spain's departure our King wept a good deal; the Dauphin
      also wept much, although he had never before manifested the least
      affection for his children. They were never seen in his apartment morning
      and evening. When he was not at the chase the Dauphin passed his time with
      the great Princesse de Conti, and latterly with the Duchess. One must have
      guessed that the children belonged to him, for he lived like a stranger
      among them. He never called them his sons, but the Duke of Burgundy, the
      Duc d'Anjou, the Duc de Berri; and they, in turn, always called him
      Monseigneur.
    </p>
    <p>
      I lived upon a very good understanding with him for more than twenty
      years, and he had great confidence in me until the Duchess got possession
      of him; then everything with regard to me was changed: and as, after my
      husband's death, I never went to the chase with the Dauphin, I had no
      further relation with him, and he behaved as if he had never seen or known
      me. If he had been wise he would have preferred the society of the
      Princesse de Conti to that of the Duchess, because the first, having a
      good heart, loved him for himself; while the other loved nothing in the
      world, and listened to nothing but her taste for pleasure, her interest,
      and her ambition. So that, provided she attained her ends, she cared
      little for the Dauphin, who by his condescension for this Princess gave a
      great proof of weakness.
    </p>
    <p>
      In general, his heart was not correct enough to discern what real
      friendship was; he loved only those who afforded him amusement, and
      despised all others. The Duchess was very agreeable and had some pleasant
      notions; she was fond of eating, which was the very thing for the Dauphin,
      because he found a good breakfast at her house every morning and a
      collation in the afternoon. The Duchess's daughters were of the same
      character as their mother; so that the Dauphin might be all the day in the
      company of gay people.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was strongly attached to his son's wife; but when she quarrelled with
      the Duchess her father-in-law changed his opinion of her. What displeased
      him besides was that the Duchess of Burgundy married his younger son, the
      Duc de Berri, against his inclination. He was not wrong in that, because,
      although the marriage was to our advantage, I must confess that the
      Dauphin was not even treated with decency in the business.
    </p>
    <p>
      Neither of the two Dauphins or the Dauphines ever interested themselves
      much about their children. The King had them educated without consulting
      them, appointed all their servants, and was even displeased if they
      interfered with them in any way. The Dauphin knows nothing of good
      breeding; he and his sons are perfect clowns.
    </p>
    <p>
      The women of La Halle had a real passion for the first Dauphin; they had
      been made to believe that he would take the part of the people of Paris,
      in which there was not a word of truth. The people believed that he was
      better hearted than he was. He would not, in fact, have been wicked if the
      Marechal d'Uxelles, La Chouin and Montespan, with whom he was in his
      youth, as well as the Duchess, had not spoiled him, and made him believe
      that malice was a proof of wit.
    </p>
    <p>
      He did not grieve more than a quarter of an hour at the death of his
      mother or of his wife; and when he wrapped himself up in his long mourning
      cloak he was ready to choke with laughter.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had followed his father's example in taking an ugly, nasty mistress,
      who had been fille d'honneur to the elder Princess de Conti: her name is
      Mademoiselle de Chouin, and she is still living at Paris (1719). It was
      generally believed that he had married her clandestinely; but I would lay
      a wager he never did. She had the figure of a duenna; was of very small
      stature; had very short legs; large rolling eyes; a round face; a short
      turned-up nose; a large mouth filled with decayed teeth, which made her
      breath so bad that the room in which she sat could hardly be endured.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
                    .........................
</pre>
    <p>
      And yet this short, fat woman had a great deal of wit; and I believe the
      Dauphin accustomed himself to take snuff that he might not be annoyed by
      her bad teeth. He was very civil to the Marechal d'Uxelles, because he
      pretended to be the intimate with this lady; but as soon as the Dauphin
      was caught, the Marechal ceased to see her, and never once set foot in her
      house, although before that he had been in the habit of visiting her
      daily.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Dauphin had a daughter by Raisin the actress, but he would never
      acknowledge her, and after his death the Princess Conti took care of her,
      and married her to a gentleman of Vaugourg. The Dauphin was so tired of
      the Duc du Maine that he had sworn never to acknowledge any of his
      illegitimate children. This Raisin must have had very peculiar charms to
      make an impression upon a heart so thick as that of the Dauphin, who
      really loved her. One day he sent for her to Choisy, and hid her in a mill
      without anything to eat or drink; for it was a fast day, and the Dauphin
      thought there was no greater sin than to eat meat on a fast day. After the
      Court had departed, all that he gave her for supper was some salad and
      toast with oil. Raisin laughed at this very much herself, and told several
      persons of it. When I heard of it I asked the Dauphin what he meant by
      making his mistress fast in this manner.
    </p>
    <p>
      "I had a mind," he said, "to commit one sin, but not two."
    </p>
    <p>
      I cannot bear that any one should touch me behind; it makes me so angry
      that I do not know what I do. I was very near giving the Dauphin a blow
      one day, for he had a wicked trick of coming behind one for a joke, and
      putting his fist in the chair just where one was going to sit down. I
      begged him, for God's sake, to leave off this habit, which was so
      disagreeable to me that I would not answer for not one day giving him a
      sound blow, without thinking of what I was doing. From that time he left
      me alone.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Dauphin was very much like the Queen; he was not tall, but
      good-looking enough. Our King was accustomed to say: "Monseigneur (for so
      he always called him) has the look of a German prince." He had, indeed,
      something of a German air; but it was only the air; for he had nothing
      German besides. He did not dance well. The Queen-Dowager of Spain
      flattered herself with the hope of marrying him.
    </p>
    <p>
      He thought he should recommend himself to the King by not appearing to
      care what became of his brothers.
    </p>
    <p>
      When the Dauphin was lying sick of the small-pox, I went on the Wednesday
      to the King.
    </p>
    <p>
      He said to me, sarcastically, "You have been frightening us with the great
      pain which Monseigneur would have to endure when the suppuration
      commences; but I can tell you that he will not suffer at all, for the
      pustules have already begun to dry."
    </p>
    <p>
      I was alarmed at this, and said, "So much the worse; if he is not in pain
      his state is the more dangerous, and he soon will be."
    </p>
    <p>
      "What!" said the King, "do you know better than the doctors?"
    </p>
    <p>
      "I know," I replied, "what the small-pox is by my own experience, which is
      better than all the doctors; but I hope from my heart that I may be
      mistaken."
    </p>
    <p>
      On the same night, soon after midnight, the Dauphin died.
    </p>
    <p>
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    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XV.&mdash;THE DUKE OF BURGUNDY, THE SECOND DAUPHIN.
    </h2>
    <p>
      He was quite humpbacked. I think this proceeded from his having been made
      to carry a bar of iron for the purpose of keeping himself upright, but the
      weight and inconvenience of which had had a contrary effect. I often said
      to the Duke de Beauvilliers he had very good parts, and was sincerely
      pious, but so weak as to let his wife rule him like a child. In spite of
      his good sense, she made him believe whatever she chose. She lived upon
      very good terms with him, but was not outrageously fond, and did not love
      him better than many other persons; for the good gentleman had a very
      disagreeable person, and his face was not the most beautiful. I believe,
      however, she was touched with his great affection for her; and indeed it
      would be impossible for a man to entertain a more fervent passion than he
      did for his wife. Her wit was agreeable, and she could be very pleasant
      when she chose: her gaiety dissipated the melancholy which sometimes
      seized upon the devout Dauphin. Like almost all humpbacked men, he had a
      great passion for women; but at the same time was so pious that he feared
      he committed a grievous sin in looking at any other than his own wife; and
      he was truly in love with her. I saw him once, when a lady had told him
      that he had good eyes, squint immediately that he might appear ugly. This
      was really an unnecessary trouble; for the good man was already
      sufficiently plain, having a very ill-looking mouth, a sickly appearance,
      small stature, and a hump at his back.
    </p>
    <p>
      He had many good qualities: he was charitable, and had assisted several
      officers unknown to any one. He certainly died of grief for the loss of
      his wife, as he had predicted. A learned astrologer of Turin, having cast
      the nativity of the Dauphine, told her that she would die in her
      twenty-seventh year.
    </p>
    <p>
      She often spoke of it, and said one day to her husband, "The time is
      approaching when I shall die; you cannot remain without a wife as well on
      account of your rank as your piety; tell me, then, I beg of you, whom you
      will marry?"
    </p>
    <p>
      "I hope," he replied, "that God will not inflict so severe a punishment on
      me as to deprive me of you; but if this calamity should befall me, I shall
      not marry again, for I shall follow you to the grave in a week."
    </p>
    <p>
      This happened exactly as he said it would; for, on the seventh day after
      his wife's death, he died also. This is not a fiction, but perfectly true.
    </p>
    <p>
      While the Dauphine was in good health and spirits she often said, "I must
      enjoy myself now. I shall not be able to do so long, for I shall die this
      year."
    </p>
    <p>
      I thought it was only a joke, but it turned out to be too true. When she
      fell sick she said she should never recover.
    </p>
    <p>
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    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XVI.&mdash;PETITE MADAME.
    </h2>
    <p>
      A cautery which had been improperly made in the nape of the neck had drawn
      her mouth all on one side, so that it was almost entirely in her left
      cheek. For this reason talking was very painful to her, and she said very
      little. It was necessary to be accustomed to her way of speaking to
      understand her. Just when she was about to die her mouth resumed its
      proper place, and she did not seem at all ugly. I was present at her
      death. She did not say a word to her father, although a convulsion had
      restored her mouth. The King, who had a good heart and was very fond of
      his children, wept excessively and made me weep also. The Queen was not
      present, for, being pregnant, they would not let her come.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is totally false that the Queen was delivered of a black child. The
      late Monsieur, who was present, said that the young Princess was ugly, but
      not black. The people cannot be persuaded that the child is not still
      alive, and say that it is in a convent at Moret, near Fontainebleau. It
      is, however, quite certain that the ugly child is dead, for all the Court
      saw it die.
    </p>
    <p>
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    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      BOOK 3.
    </h2>
    <p>
      Henrietta of England, Monsieur's First Consort The Due de Berri The
      Duchesse de Berri Mademoiselle d'Orleans, Louise-Adelaide de Chartres
      Mademoiselle de Valois, Consort of the Prince of Modena The Illegitimate
      Children of the Regent, Duc d'Orleans The Chevalier de Lorraine Philip V.,
      King of Spain The Duchess, Consort of the Duc de Bourbon The Younger
      Duchess Duc Louis de Bourbon Francois-Louis, Prince de Conti La Grande
      Princesse de Conti The Princess Palatine, Consort of Prince Francois-Louis
      de Conti The Princesse de Conti, Louise-Elizabeth, Consort of Louis-Armand
      Louis-Armand, Prince de Conti The Abbe Dubois Mr. Law
    </p>
    <p>
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    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XVII.&mdash;HENRIETTA OF ENGLAND, THE FIRST WIFE OF MONSIEUR,
      BROTHER OF LOUIS XIV.
    </h2>
    <p>
      It is true that the late Madame was extremely unhappy; she confided too
      much in people who betrayed her: she was more to be pitied than blamed,
      being connected with very wicked persons, about whom I could give some
      particulars. Young, pretty and gay, she was surrounded by some of the
      greatest coquettes in the world, the mistresses of her bitterest foes, and
      who sought only to thrust her into some unfortunate situation and to
      embroil her with Monsieur. Madame de Coetquen was the Chevalier de
      Lorraine's mistress, although Madame did not know it; and she contrived
      that the Marechal de Turenne should become attached to her. Madame having
      told the Marshal all her secrets respecting the negotiations with England,
      he repeated them to his mistress, Madame de Coetquen, whom he believed to
      be devoted to his mistress. This woman went every night to the Chevalier
      de Lorraine and betrayed them all. The Chevalier used this opportunity to
      stir up Monsieur's indignation against Madame, telling him that he passed
      with the King for a simpleton, who could not hold his tongue; that he
      would lose all confidence, and that his wife would have everything in her
      own hand. Monsieur wished to know all the particulars from Madame; but she
      refused to tell him her brother's secrets, and this widened the breach
      between them. She became enraged, and had the Chevalier de Lorraine and
      his brother driven away, which in the end cost her own life; she, however,
      died with the consciousness of never having done her husband any harm. She
      was the confidante of the King, to whom it had been hinted that it might
      be expedient to give some employment to Monsieur, who might otherwise make
      himself beloved in the Court and in the city. For this reason the King
      assisted Madame in her affairs of gallantry, in order to occupy his
      brother. I have this from the King himself. Madame was besides in great
      credit with her brother, Charles II. (of England). Louis XIV. wished to
      gain him over through his sister, wherefore it was necessary to take part
      with her, and she was always better treated than I have been. The late
      Monsieur never suspected his wife of infidelity with the King, her
      brother-in-law, he told me, all her life, and would not have been silent
      with respect to this intrigue if he had believed it. I think that with
      respect to this great injustice is done to Madame. It would have been too
      much to deceive at once the brother and the nephew, the father and the
      son.
    </p>
    <p>
      The late Monsieur was very much disturbed at his wife's coquetry; but he
      dared not behave ill to her, because she was protected by the King.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Queen-mother of England had not brought up her children well: she at
      first left them in the society of femmes de chambre, who gratified all
      their caprices; and having afterwards married them at a very early age,
      they followed the bad example of their mother. Both of them met with
      unhappy deaths; the one was poisoned, and the other died in child-birth.
    </p>
    <p>
      Monsieur was himself the cause of Madame's intrigue with the Comte de
      Guiche. He was one of the favourites of the late Monsieur, and was said to
      have been handsome once. Monsieur earnestly requested Madame to shew some
      favour to the Comte de Guiche, and to permit him to wait upon her at all
      times. The Count, who was brutal to every one else, but full of vanity,
      took great pains to be agreeable to Madame, and to make her love him. In
      fact, he succeeded, being seconded by his aunt, Madame de Chaumont, who
      was the gouvernante of Madame's children. One day Madame went to this
      lady's chamber, under the pretence of seeing her children, but in fact to
      meet De Guiche, with whom she had an assignation. She had a valet de
      chambre named Launois, whom I have since seen in the service of Monsieur;
      he had orders to stand sentinel on the staircase, to give notice in case
      Monsieur should approach. This Launois suddenly ran into the room, saying,
      "Monsieur is coming downstairs."
    </p>
    <p>
      The lovers were terrified to death. The Count could not escape by the
      antechamber on account of Monsieur's people who were there. Launois said,
      "I know a way, which I will put into practice immediately; hide yourself,"
      he said to the Count, "behind the door." He then ran his head against
      Monsieur's nose as he was entering, and struck him so violently that he
      began to bleed. At the same moment he cried out, "I beg your pardon,
      Monsieur, I did not think you were so near, and I ran to open you the
      door."
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame and Madame de Chaumont ran in great alarm to Monsieur, and covered
      his face with their handkerchiefs, so that the Comte de Guiche had time to
      get out of the room, and escape by the staircase. Monsieur saw some one
      run away, but he thought it was Launois, who was escaping through fear. He
      never learnt the truth.
    </p>
    <p>
      What convinces me of the late Madame's innocence is that, after having
      received the last sacraments, she begged pardon of Monsieur for all
      disquiets she had occasioned, and said that she hoped to reach heaven
      because she had committed no crime against her husband.
    </p>
    <p>
      I think M. de Monmouth was much worse than the Comte de Guiche; because,
      although a bastard, he was the son of Madame's own brother; and this
      incest doubled the crime. Madame de Thiange, sister of Madame de
      Montespan, conducted the intrigue between the Duke of Monmouth and Madame.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is said here that Madame was not a beauty, but that she had so graceful
      a manner as to make all she did very agreeable. She never forgave. She
      would have the Chevalier de Lorraine dismissed; he was so, but he was
      amply revenged of her. He sent the poison by which she was destroyed from
      Italy by a nobleman of Provence, named Morel: this man was afterwards
      given to me as chief maitre d'hotel, and after he had sufficiently robbed
      me they made him sell his place at a high price. This Morel was very
      clever, but he was a man totally void of moral or religious principle; he
      confessed to me that he did not believe in anything. At the point of death
      he would not hear talk of God. He said, speaking of himself, "Let this
      carcass alone, it is now good for nothing." He would steal, lie and swear;
      he was an atheist and.....
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
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</pre>
    <p>
      It is too true that the late Madame was poisoned, but without the
      knowledge of Monsieur. While the villains were arranging the plan of
      poisoning the poor lady, they deliberated whether they should acquaint
      Monsieur with it or not. The Chevalier de Lorraine said "No, don't tell
      him, for he cannot hold his tongue. If he does not tell it the first year
      he may have us hanged ten years afterwards;" and it is well known that the
      wretches said, "Let us not tell Monsieur, for he would tell the King, who
      would certainly hang us all." They therefore made Monsieur believe that
      Madame had taken poison in Holland, which did not act until she arrived
      here.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [It is said that the King sent for the maitre d'hotel, and that,
     being satisfied that Monsieur had not been a party to the crime, he
     said, "Then I am relieved; you may retire."  The Memoirs of the day
     state also that the King employed the Chevalier de Lorraine to
     persuade Monsieur to obey his brother's wishes.]
</pre>
    <p>
      It appears, therefore, that the wicked Gourdon took no part in this
      affair; but she certainly accused Madame to Monsieur, and calumniated and
      disparaged her to everybody.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was not Madame's endive-water that D'Effial had poisoned; that report
      must have been a mere invention, for other persons might have tasted it
      had Madame alone drank from her own glass. A valet de chambre who was with
      Madame, and who afterwards was in my service (he is dead now), told me
      that in the morning, while Monsieur and Madame were at Mass, D'Effial went
      to the sideboard and, taking the Queen's cup, rubbed the inside of it with
      a paper. The valet said to him, "Monsieur, what do you do in this room,
      and why do you touch Madame's cup?" He answered, "I am dying with thirst;
      I wanted something to drink, and the cup being dirty, I was wiping it with
      some paper." In the afternoon Madame asked for some endive-water; but no
      sooner had she swallowed it than she exclaimed she was poisoned. The
      persons present drank some of the same water, but not the same that was in
      the cup, for which reason they were not inconvenienced by it. It was found
      necessary to carry Madame to bed. She grew worse, and at two o'clock in
      the morning she died in great pain. When the cup was sought for it had
      disappeared, and was not found until long after. It seems it had been
      necessary to pass it through the fire before it could be cleaned.
    </p>
    <p>
      A report prevailed at St. Cloud for several years that the ghost of the
      late Madame appeared near a fountain where she had been accustomed to sit
      during the great heats, for it was a very cool spot. One evening a servant
      of the Marquis de Clerambault, having gone thither to draw water from the
      fountain, saw something white sitting there without a head. The phantom
      immediately arose to double its height. The poor servant fled in great
      terror, and said when he entered the house that he had seen Madame. He
      fell sick and died. Then the captain of the Chateau, thinking there was
      something hidden beneath this affair, went to the fountain some days
      afterwards, and, seeing the phantom, he threatened it with a sound
      drubbing if it did not declare what it was.
    </p>
    <p>
      The phantom immediately said, "Ah, M. de Lastera, do me no harm; I am poor
      old Philipinette."
    </p>
    <p>
      This was an old woman in the village, seventy-seven years old, who had
      lost her teeth, had blear eyes, a great mouth and large nose; in short,
      was a very hideous figure. They were going to take her to prison, but I
      interceded for her. When she came to thank me I asked her what fancy it
      was that had induced her to go about playing the ghost instead of
      sleeping.
    </p>
    <p>
      She laughed and said, "I cannot much repent what I have done. At my time
      of life one sleeps little; but one wants something to amuse one's mind. In
      all the sports of my youth nothing diverted me so much as to play the
      ghost. I was very sure that if I could not frighten folks with my white
      dress I could do so with my ugly face. The cowards made so many grimaces
      when they saw it that I was ready to die with laughing. This nightly
      amusement repaid me for the trouble of carrying a pannier by day."
    </p>
    <p>
      If the late Madame was better treated than I was it was for the purpose of
      pleasing the King of England, who was very fond of his sister.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
                    ...........................
</pre>
    <p>
      Madame de La Fayette, who has written the life of the late Madame, was her
      intimate friend; but she was still more intimately the friend of M. de La
      Rochefoucauld, who remained with her to the day of his death. It is said
      that these two friends wrote together the romance of the Princesse de
      Cloves.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      SECTION XVIII.&mdash;THE DUC DE BERRI.
    </h2>
    <p>
      It is not surprising that the manners of the Duc de Berri were not very
      elegant, since he was educated by Madame de Maintenon and the Dauphine as
      a valet de chambre. He was obliged to wait upon the old woman at table,
      and at all other times upon the Dauphine's ladies, with whom he was by day
      and night. They made a mere servant of him, and used to talk to him in a
      tone of very improper familiarity, saying, "Berri, go and fetch me my
      work; bring me that table; give me my scissors."
    </p>
    <p>
      Their manner of behaving to him was perfectly shameful. This had the
      effect of degrading his disposition, and of giving him base propensities;
      so that it is not surprising he should have been violently in love with an
      ugly femme de chambre. His good father was naturally of rather a coarse
      disposition.
    </p>
    <p>
      But for that old Maintenon, the Duc de Berri would have been humpbacked,
      like the rest who had been made to carry iron crosses.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duc de Berri's character seemed to undergo a total change; it is said
      to be the ordinary lot of the children in Paris that, if they display any
      sense in their youth, they become stupid as they grow older.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was in compliance with the King's will that he married. At first he was
      passionately fond of his wife; but at the end of three months he fell in
      love with a little, ugly, black femme de chambre. The Duchess, who had
      sufficient penetration, was not slow in discovering this, and told her
      husband immediately that, if he continued to live upon good terms with
      her, as he had done at first, she would say nothing about it, and act as
      if she were not acquainted with it; but if he behaved ill, she would tell
      the whole affair to the King, and have the femme de chambre sent away, so
      that he should never hear of her again. By this threat she held the Duke,
      who was a very simple man, so completely in check, that he lived very well
      with her up to his death, leaving her to do as she pleased, and dying
      himself as fond as ever of the femme de chambre. A year before his death
      he had her married, but upon condition that the husband should not
      exercise his marital rights. He left her pregnant as well as his wife,
      both of whom lay-in after his decease. Madame de Berri, who was not
      jealous, retained this woman, and took care of her and her child.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duke abridged his life by his extreme intemperance in eating and
      drinking. He had concealed, besides, that in falling from his horse he had
      burst a blood-vessel. He threatened to dismiss any of his servants who
      should say that he had lost blood. A number of plates were found in the
      ruelle of his bed after his death. When he disclosed the accident it was
      too late to remedy it. As far as could be judged his illness proceeded
      from gluttony, in consequence of which emetics were so frequently
      administered to him that they hastened his death.
    </p>
    <p>
      He himself said to his confessor, the Pere de la Rue, "Ah, father, I am
      myself the cause of my death!"
    </p>
    <p>
      He repented of it, but not until too late.
    </p>
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    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XIX.&mdash;THE DUCHESSE DE BERRI.
    </h2>
    <p>
      My son loves his eldest daughter better than all the rest of his children,
      because he has had the care of her since she was seven years old. She was
      at that time seized with an illness which the physicians did not know how
      to cure. My son resolved to treat her in his own way. He succeeded in
      restoring her to health, and from that moment his love seemed to increase
      with her years. She was very badly educated, having been always left with
      femmes de chambre. She is not very capricious, but she is haughty and
      absolute in all her wishes.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [Her pride led her into all sorts of follies.  She once went through
     Paris preceded by trumpets and drama; and on another occasion she
     appeared at the theatre under a canopy.  She received the Venetian
     Ambassador sitting in a chair elevated upon a sort of a platform.
     This haughtiness, however, did not prevent her from keeping very bad
     company, and she would sometimes lay aside her singularities and
     break up her orgies to pass some holy days at the Carmelites.]
</pre>
    <p>
      From the age of eight years she has had entirely her own way, so that it
      is not surprising she should be like a headstrong horse. If she had been
      well brought up, she would have been a worthy character, for she has very
      good sense and a good natural disposition, and is not at all like her
      mother, to whom, although she was very severely treated, she always did
      her duty. During her mother's last illness, she watched her like a hired
      nurse. If Madame de Berri had been surrounded by honest people, who
      thought more of her honour than of their own interest, she would have been
      a very admirable person. She had excellent feelings; but as that old woman
      (Maintenon) once said, "bad company spoils good manners." To be pleasing
      she had only to speak, for she possessed natural eloquence, and could
      express herself very well.
    </p>
    <p>
      Her complexion is very florid, for which she often lets blood, but without
      effect; she uses a great quantity of paint, I believe for the purpose of
      hiding the marks of the small-pox. She cannot dance, and hates it; but she
      is well-grounded in music. Her voice is neither strong nor agreeable, and
      yet she sings very correctly. She takes as much diversion as possible; one
      day she hunts, another day she goes out in a carriage, on a third she will
      go to a fair; at other times she frequents the rope-dancers, the plays,
      and the operas, and she goes everywhere 'en echarpe', and without stays. I
      often rally her, and say that she fancies she is fond of the chase, but in
      fact she only likes changing her place. She cares little about the result
      of the chase, but she likes boar-hunting better than stag-hunting, because
      the former furnishes her table with black puddings and boars' heads.
    </p>
    <p>
      I do not reckon the Duchesse de Berri among my grandchildren. She is
      separated from me, we live like strangers to each other, she does not
      disturb herself about me, nor I about her. (7th January, 1716.)
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame de Maintenon was so dreadfully afraid lest the King should take a
      fancy to the Duchesse de Berri while the Dauphine was expected, that she
      did her all sorts of ill offices. After the Dauphine's death she repaired
      the wrong; but then, to tell the truth, the King's inclination was not so
      strong.
    </p>
    <p>
      If the Duchesse de Berri was not my daughter-in-law, I should have no
      reason to be dissatisfied with her; she behaves politely to me, which is
      all that I can say. (25th Sept., 1716.)
    </p>
    <p>
      She often laughs at her own figure and shape. She has certainly good
      sense, and is not very punctilious. Her flesh is firm and healthy, her
      cheeks are as hard as stone. I should be ungrateful not to love her, for
      she does all sorts of civil things towards me, and displays so great a
      regard for me that I am often quite amazed at it. (12th April, 1718.)
    </p>
    <p>
      She is magnificent in her expenditure; to be sure she can afford to be so,
      for her income amounts to 600,000 livres. Amboise was her jointure, but
      she preferred Meudon.
    </p>
    <p>
      She fell sick on the 28th March, 1719. I went to see her last Sunday, the
      23rd May, and found her in a sad state, suffering from pains in her toes
      and the soles of her feet until the tears came into her eyes. I went away
      because I saw that she refrained from crying out on my account. I thought
      she was in a bad way. A consultation was held by her three physicians, the
      result of which was that they determined to bleed her in the feet. They
      had some difficulty in persuading her to submit to it, because the pain in
      her feet was so great that she uttered the most piercing screams if the
      bedclothes only rubbed against them. The bleeding, however, succeeded, and
      she was in some degree relieved. It was the gout in both feet.
    </p>
    <p>
      The feet are now covered with swellings filled with water, which cause her
      as much pain as if they were ulcers; she suffers day and night. Whatever
      they may say, there has been no other swelling of the feet since those
      blisters appeared. (13th June.)
    </p>
    <p>
      The swelling has now entirely disappeared, but the pain is greater than
      before. All the toes are covered with transparent blisters; she cries out
      so that she may be heard three rooms off. The doctors now confess they do
      not know what the disorder is. (20th June.) The King's surgeon says it is
      rheumatic gout. (11th July.) I believe that frequent and excessive bathing
      and gluttony have undermined her health. She has two fits of fever daily,
      and the disease does not abate. She is not impatient nor peevish; the
      emetic given to her the day before yesterday causes her much pain; it
      seems that from time to time rheumatic pains have affected her shoulders
      without her taking much notice of them. From being very fat, as she was,
      she has become thin and meagre. Yesterday she confessed, and received the
      communion. (18th July.) She was bled thrice before she took the emetic.
      (Tuesday, 18th July.) She received the last Sacrament with a firmness
      which deeply affected her attendants. Between two and three o'clock this
      night (19th July) she died. Her end was a very easy one; they say she died
      as if she had gone to sleep. My son remained with her until she lost all
      consciousness, which was about an hour before her death. She was his
      favourite daughter. The poor Duchesse de Berri was as much the cause of
      her own death as if she had blown her brains out, for she secretly ate
      melons, figs and milk; she herself confessed, and her doctor told me, that
      she had closed her room to him and to the other medical attendants for a
      fortnight that she might indulge in this way. Immediately after the storm
      she began to die. Yesterday evening she said to me: "Oh, Madame! that clap
      of thunder has done me great harm;" and it was evident that it had made
      her worse.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son has not been able to sleep. The poor Duchesse de Berri could not
      have been saved; her brain was filled with water; she had an ulcer in the
      stomach and another in the groin; her liver was affected, and her spleen
      full of disease. She was taken by night to St. Denis, whither all her
      household accompanied her corse. They were so much embarrassed about her
      funeral oration that it was resolved ultimately not to pronounce one.
    </p>
    <p>
      With all her wealth she has left my son 400,000 livres of debt to pay.
      This poor Princess was horribly robbed and pillaged. You may imagine what
      a race these favourites are; Mouchi, who enjoyed the greatest favour, did
      not grieve for her mistress a single moment; she was playing the flute at
      her window on the very day that the Princess was borne to St. Denis, and
      went to a large dinner party in Paris, where she ate and drank as if
      nothing had happened, at the same time talking in so impertinent a manner
      as disgusted all the guests. My son desired her and her husband to quit
      Paris.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son's affliction is so much the greater since he perceives that, if he
      had been less complying with his beloved daughter, and if he had exercised
      somewhat more of a parent's authority, she would have been alive and well
      at this time.
    </p>
    <p>
      That Mouchi and her lover Riom have been playing fine tricks; they had
      duplicate keys, and left the poor Duchess without a sou. I cannot conceive
      what there is to love in this Riom; he has neither face nor figure; he
      looks, with his green-and-yellow complexion, like a water fiend; his
      mouth, nose and eyes are like those of a Chinese. He is more like a baboon
      than a Gascon, which he is. He is a very dull person, without the least
      pretensions to wit; he has a large head, which is sunk between a pair of
      very broad shoulders, and his appearance is that of a low-minded person;
      in short, he is a very ugly rogue.
    </p>
    <p>
      And yet the toad does not come of bad blood; he is related to some of the
      best families. The Duc de Lauzun is his uncle, and Biron his nephew. He
      is, nevertheless, unworthy of the honour which was conferred on him; for
      he was only a captain in the King's Guard. The women all ran after him;
      but, for my part, I find him extremely disagreeable; he has an unhealthy
      air and looks like one of the Indian figures upon a screen.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was not here when Madame de Berri died, but was with the army, in the
      regiment which had been bought for him. When the news of the Duchess's
      death reached him the Prince de Conti went to seek Riom, and sang a
      ridiculous song, my son was a little vexed at this, but he did not take
      any notice of it.
    </p>
    <p>
      There can be no doubt that the Duchess was secretly married to Riom; this
      has consoled me in some degree for her loss. I had heard it said before,
      and I made a representation upon the subject to my granddaughter.
    </p>
    <p>
      She laughed, and replied: "Ah, Madame, I thought I had the honour of being
      so well known to you that you could not believe me guilty of so great a
      folly; I who am so much blamed for my pride."
    </p>
    <p>
      This answer lulled my suspicions, and I no longer believed the story. The
      father and mother would never have consented to this marriage; and even if
      they had sanctioned such an impertinence I never would!
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [The Duchess, with her usual violence, teased her father to have her
     marriage made public; this was also Riom's most ardent desire, who
     had married her solely from ambitious motives.  The Regent had
     despatched Riom to the army for the purpose of gaining time.  One
     daughter was the result of the connection between Riom and the
     Duchesse de Berri, who was afterwards sent into a convent at
     Pontoisse.]
</pre>
    <p>
      The toad had made the Princess believe that he was a Prince of the House
      of Aragon, and that the King of Spain unjustly withheld from him his
      kingdom; but that if she would marry him he could sue for his claim
      through the treaties of peace. Mouchi used to talk about this to the
      Duchess from morning to night; and it was for this reason that she was so
      greatly in favour.
    </p>
    <p>
      That Mouchi is the granddaughter of Monsieur's late surgeon. Her mother,
      La Forcade, had been appointed by my son the gouvernante of his daughter
      and son, and thus the young Forcade was brought up with the Duchesse de
      Berri, who married her to Monsieur Mouchi, Master of the Wardrobe to the
      Duke, and gave her a large marriage-portion. While the King lived the
      Princess could not visit her much; and it was not until after his death
      that she became the favourite, and was appointed by the Duchess second
      dame d'atour.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      SECTION XX.&mdash;MADEMOISELLE D'ORLEANS, LOUISE-ADELAIDE DE CHARTRES.
    </h2>
    <p>
      Mademoiselle de Chartres, Madame d'Orleans' second daughter, is well made,
      and is the handsomest of my granddaughters. She has a fine skin, a superb
      complexion, very white teeth, good eyes, and a faultless shape, but she
      stammers a little; her hands are extremely delicate, the red and white are
      beautifully and naturally mingled in her skin. I never saw finer teeth;
      they are like a row of pearls; and her gums are no less beautiful. A
      Prince of Auhalt who is here is very much in love with her; but the good
      gentleman is ugly enough, so that there is no danger. She dances well, and
      sings better; reads music at sight, and understands the accompaniment
      perfectly; and she sings without any grimace. She persists in her project
      of becoming a nun; but I think she would be better in the world, and do
      all in my power to change her determination: it seems, however, to be a
      folly which there is no eradicating. Her tastes are all masculine; she
      loves dogs, horses, and riding; all day long she is playing with
      gunpowder, making fusees and other artificial fireworks. She has a pair of
      pistols, which she is incessantly firing; she fears nothing in the world,
      and likes nothing which women in general like; she cares little about her
      person, and for this reason I think she will make a good nun.
    </p>
    <p>
      She does not become a nun through jealousy of her sister, but from the
      fear of being tormented by her mother and sister, whom she loves very
      much, and in this she is right. She and her sister are not fond of their
      mother's favourites, and cannot endure to flatter them. They have no very
      reverent notions, either, of their mother's brother, and this is the cause
      of dissensions. I never saw my granddaughter in better spirits than on
      Sunday last; she was with her sister, on horseback, laughing, and
      apparently in great glee. At eight o'clock in the evening her mother
      arrived; we played until supper; I thought we were afterwards going to
      play again, but Madame d'Orleans begged me to go into the cabinet with her
      and Mademoiselle d'Orleans; the child there fell on her knees, and begged
      my permission, and her mother's, to go to Chelles to perform her
      devotions. I said she might do that anywhere, that the place mattered not,
      but that all depended upon her own heart, and the preparation which she
      made. She, however, persisted in her desire to go to Chelles. I said to
      her mother:
    </p>
    <p>
      "You must decide whether your daughter shall go to Chelles or not."
    </p>
    <p>
      She replied, "We cannot hinder her performing her devotions."
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [In the Memoirs of the time it is said that Mademoiselle de
     Chartres, being at the Opera with her mother, exclaimed, while
     Caucherau was singing a very tender air, "Ah! my dear Caucherau!"
     and that her mother, thinking this rather too expressive, resolved
     to send her to a convent.]
</pre>
    <p>
      So yesterday morning at seven o'clock she set off in a coach; she
      afterwards sent back the carriage, with a letter to her father, her
      mother, and myself, declaring that she will never more quit that accursed
      cloister. Her mother, who has a liking for convents, is not very deeply
      afflicted; she looks upon it as a great blessing to be a nun, but, for my
      part, I think it is one of the greatest misfortunes.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son went yesterday to Chelles, and took with him the Cardinal de
      Noailles, to try for the last time to bring his daughter away from the
      convent. (20th July, 1718.)
    </p>
    <p>
      My heart is full when I think that our poor Mademoiselle d'Orleans has
      made the profession of her vows. I said to her all I could, in the hope of
      diverting her from this diabolical project, but all has been useless.
      (23rd August, 1718.) I should not have restrained my tears if I had been
      present at the ceremony of her profession. My son dreaded it also. I
      cannot tell for what reason Mademoiselle d'Orleans resolved to become a
      nun. Mademoiselle de Valois wanted to do the same thing, but she could not
      prevail upon her mother. In the convent they assume the names of saints.
      My granddaughter has taken that of Sister Bathilde; she is of the
      Benedictine order.
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame d'Orleans has long wished her daughter to take this step, and it
      was on her account that the former Abbess, Villars' sister, was prevailed
      upon to quit the convent. He is in the interest of the Duc du Maine. I do
      not see, however, that his sister has much to complain of, for they gave
      her a pension of 12,000 livres until the first abbey should become vacant.
      Madame d'Orleans is, however, vexed at the idea of Villars' sister being
      obliged to yield to my son's daughter, which is, nevertheless, as it
      should be.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our Abbess is upon worse terms than ever with her mother. She complains
      that the latter never comes but to scold her. She does not envy her sister
      her marriage, for she finds herself very happy, and in this she displays
      great good sense.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      SECTION XXI.&mdash;MADEMOISELLE DE VALOIS, CHARLOTTE-AGLAE, CONSORT OF THE
      PRINCE OF MODENA.
    </h2>
    <p>
      Mademoiselle de Valois is not, in my opinion, pretty, and yet occasionally
      she does not look ugly. She has something like charms, for her eyes, her
      colour and her skin are good. She has white teeth, a large, ill-looking
      nose, and one prominent tooth, which when she laughs has a bad effect. Her
      figure is drawn up, her head is sunk between her shoulders, and what, in
      my opinion, is the worst part of her appearance, is the ill grace with
      which she does everything. She walks like an old woman of eighty. If she
      were a person not very anxious to please, I should not be surprised at the
      negligence of her gait; but she likes to be thought pretty. She is fond of
      dress, and yet she does not understand that a good mien and graceful
      manners are the most becoming dress, and that where these are wanting all
      the ornaments in the world are good for nothing. She has a good deal of
      the Mortemart family in her, and is as much like the Duchess of Sforza,
      the sister of Montespan, as if she were her daughter; the falsehood of the
      Mortemarts displays itself in her eyes. Madame d'Orleans would be the most
      indolent woman in the world but for Madame de Valois, her daughter, who is
      worse than she. To me nothing is more disgusting than a young person so
      indolent. She cares little for me, or rather cannot bear me, and, for my
      part, I care as little for a person so educated.
    </p>
    <p>
      She is not upon good terms with her mother, because she wanted to marry
      her to the Prince de Dombes, the Duc du Maine's eldest son. The mother
      says now reproachfully to her daughter that, if she had married her
      nephew, neither his father's nor his own misfortunes would have taken
      place. She cannot bear to have her daughter in her sight, and has begged
      me to keep her with me.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son has agreed to give his daughter to the Prince of Modem, at which I
      very sincerely rejoice. On the day before yesterday (28th November, 1719)
      she came hither with her mother to tell me that the courier had arrived.
      Her eyes were swollen and red, and she looked very miserable. The Duchess
      of Hanover tells me that the intended husband fell in love with
      Mademoiselle de Valois at the mere sight of her portrait. I think her
      rather pretty than agreeable. Her hawk nose spoils all, in my opinion. Her
      legs are long, her body stout and short, and her gait shows that she has
      not learnt to dance; in fact, she never would learn. Still, if the
      interior was as good as the exterior, all might pass; but she has as much
      of the father as of the mother in her, and this it is that I dislike.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our bride-elect is putting, as we say here, as good a face as she can upon
      a bad bargain; although her language is gay her eyes are swollen, and it
      is suspected that she has been weeping all night. The Grand Prior, who is
      also General of the Galleys, will escort his sister into Italy. The Grand
      Duchess of Tuscany says that she will not see Mademoiselle de Valois nor
      speak to her, knowing very well what Italy is, and believing that
      Mademoiselle de Valois will not be able to reconcile herself to it. She is
      afraid that if her niece should ever return to France they will say,
      "There is the second edition of the Grand Duchess;" and that for every
      folly she may commit towards her father-in-law and husband they will add,
      "Such are the instructions which her aunt, the Grand Duchess, has given
      her." For this reason she said she would not go to see her.
    </p>
    <p>
      The present has come from Modena; it does not consist of many pieces;
      there is a large jewel for the bride, with some very fine diamonds, in the
      midst of which is the portrait of the Prince of Modena, but it is badly
      executed. This present is to be given on the day of the marriage and at
      the signature of the contract in the King's presence; this ceremony will
      take place on the 11th (of February, 1720). The nuptial benediction will
      be pronounced on Monday, and on Thursday she will set off. I never in my
      life saw a bride more sorrowful; for the last three days she has neither
      eaten nor drunk, and her eyes are filled with tears.
    </p>
    <p>
      I have been the prophetess of evil, but I have prophesied too truly. When
      our Princess of Modena told me that she wished to go to Chelles to bid her
      sister farewell, I told her that the measles had been in the convent a
      short time before, that the Abbess herself had been attacked by this
      disease, which was contagious. She replied that she would seek it. I said
      such things are more easily found than anything good; you run a risk of
      your life, and I recommend you to take care. Notwithstanding my advice,
      she went on Sunday morning to Chelles, and passed the whole of the day
      with her sister. Soon afterwards she found herself unwell, and was laid up
      with the measles. Her consolation is that this illness retards her
      journey.
    </p>
    <p>
      On the 12th of March (1720) my son brought his daughter to bid me
      farewell. She could not articulate a word. She took my hands, kissed and
      pressed them, and then clasped her own. My son was much affected when he
      brought her. They thought at first of marrying her to the Prince of
      Piedmont. Her father had given her some reason to hope for this union, but
      he afterwards retracted.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [According to Duclos it was Madame herself who prevented this
     marriage by writing to the Queen of Sicily that she was too much her
     friend to make her so worthless a present as Mademoiselle de Valois.
     Duclos adds that the Regent only laughed at this German blunder of
     his mother's.]
</pre>
    <p>
      She would have preferred marrying the Duke or the Comte de Charolois,
      because then she would have remained with her friends. Her father has
      given her several jewels. The King's present is superb. It consists of
      fourteen very large and fine diamonds, to each of which are fastened round
      pearls of the first water, and together they form a necklace. The Grand
      Duchess advised her niece well in telling her not to follow her example,
      but to endeavour to please her husband and father-in-law.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [The same author (Duclos) says, on the contrary, that the Duchess
     had given her niece the following advice: "My dear, do as I have
     done.  Have one or two children and try to get back to France; there
     is nothing good for us out of that country."]
</pre>
    <p>
      The Prince of Modena will repair to Genoa incognito, because the Republic
      has declared that they will pay due honours to his bride as a Princess of
      the blood, but not as Princess of Modena. They have already begun to laugh
      here at the amusements of Modena. She has sent to her father from Lyons an
      harangue which was addressed to her by a curate. In spite of her father,
      she will visit the whole of Provence. She will go to Toulon, La Ste.
      Beaume, and I know not what. I believe she wishes to see everything or
      anything except her husband.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [She performed her journey so slowly that the Prince complained of
     it, and the Regent was obliged to order his daughter to go directly
     to the husband, who was expecting her.]
</pre>
    <p>
      It may truly be said of this Princess that she has eaten her white bread
      first.
    </p>
    <p>
      All goes well at Modena at present, but the too charming brother-in-law is
      not permitted to be at the petite soupers of his sister. The husband, it
      is said, is delighted with his wife; but she has told him that he must not
      be too fond of her, for that is not the fashion in France, and would seem
      ridiculous. This declaration has not, as might be guessed, given very
      great satisfaction in this country.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Grand Duchess says, in the time of the Queen-mother's regency, when
      the Prince and his brother, the Prince de Conti, were taken to the
      Bastille, they were asked what books they would have to amuse themselves
      with? The Prince de Conti said he should like to have "The Imitation of
      Jesus Christ;" and the Prince de Condo said he would rather like "The
      Imitation of the Duc de Beaufort," who had then just left the Bastille.
    </p>
    <p>
      "I think," added the Duchess, "that the Princess of Modena will soon be
      inclined to ask for 'The Imitation of the Grand Duchess.'"
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [The Princess of Modena did, in fact, go back to France, and
     remained there for the rest of her life.]
</pre>
    <p>
      Our Princess of Modena has found her husband handsomer and likes him
      better than she thought she should; she has even become so fond of him,
      that she has twice kissed his hands; a great condescension for a person so
      proud as she is, and who fancies that, there is not her equal on the
      earth.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duke of Modena is a very strange person in all matters. His son and
      his son's wife have requested him to get rid of Salvatico, who has been
      here in the quality of envoy. This silly person made on the journey a
      declaration in form of his love for the Princess, and threatened her with
      all sorts of misfortune if she did not accept his love. He began his
      declaration with,
    </p>
    <p>
      "Ah! ah! ah! Madame, ah! ah! ah! Madame."
    </p>
    <p>
      The Princess interrupted him: "What do you mean with your ah's?"
    </p>
    <p>
      He replied, "Ah! the Prince of Modena is under great obligations; I have
      made him happy."
    </p>
    <p>
      He had begun the same follies here, and was in the habit of entering the
      Princess's chamber at all times, and he even had the impudence to be
      jealous. The Princess complained of him to her husband, and he told his
      father of it, begging him to send the rogue away; but the father was so
      far from complying that he wanted to make Salvatico his major-domo. Upon
      the whole, I think that Salvatico's love for our Princess of Modena is
      fortunate for her; for, having learnt all that had passed here,
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [Mademoiselle de Valois had an amorous intrigue with the Duc de
     Richelieu; and it is said that she only consented to marry the
     Prince of Modena upon condition that her father, the Regent, would
     set her husband at liberty.  Madame had intimated to the Duc de
     Richelieu that, if he approached the places where her granddaughter
     was with her, his life would be in great peril.]
</pre>
    <p>
      he might have made inconvenient reports: he would, however, perhaps have
      done it in vain, for the Prince would not have believed him. Salvatico is
      quite crazy. He is the declared favourite of the Duke of Modena, which
      verifies the German proverb, "Like will to like, as the devil said to the
      collier."
    </p>
    <p>
      The Prince and Princess are very fond of each other; but it is said they
      join in ridiculing the old father (2nd August, 1720). The Princess goes
      about all day from room to room, crying, "How tired I am, how tiresome
      everything is here!" She, however, lives a little better with her husband
      than at the beginning.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      SECTION XXII.&mdash;THE ILLEGITIMATE CHILDREN OF THE REGENT, DUC
      D'ORLEANS.
    </h2>
    <p>
      My son has three illegitimate children, two boys and a girl; but only one
      of them is legitimated, that is, his son by Mademoiselle de Seri, a lady
      of noble family, and who was my Maid of Honour. The younger Margrave of
      Anspach was also in love with her. This son is called the Chevalier
      d'Orleans. The other, who is now (1716) about eighteen years old, is an
      Abbe; he is the son of La Florence, a dancer at the Opera House. The
      daughter is by Desmarets, the actress. My son says that the Chevalier
      d'Orleans is more unquestionably his than any of the others; but, to tell
      the truth, I think the Abbe has a stronger family likeness to my son than
      the Chevalier, who is like none of them. I do not know where my son found
      him; he is a good sort of person, but he has neither elegance nor beauty.
      It is a great pity that the Abbe is illegitimate: he is well made; his
      features are not bad; he has very good talents, and has studied much.&mdash;[Duclos
      says that this 'eleve' of the Jesuits was, nevertheless, the most zealous
      ignoramus that ever their school produced.]&mdash;He is a good deal like
      the portraits of the late Monsieur in his youth, only that he is bigger.
      When he stands near Mademoiselle de Valois it is easy to see that they
      belong to the same father. My son purchased for the Chevalier d'Orleans
      the office of General of the Galleys from the Marechal de Tasse. He
      intends to make him a Knight of Malta, so that he may live unmarried, for
      my son does not wish to have the illegitimate branches of his family
      extended. The Chevalier does not want wit; but he is a little satirical, a
      habit which he takes from his mother.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son will not recognize the Abbe Saint-Albin, on account of the
      irregular life which his mother, La Florence, has led. He fears being
      laughed at for acknowledging children so different. The Abbe Dubois was a
      chief cause, too, why my son would not acknowledge this son. It was
      because the Abbe, aspiring to the Cardinal's hat, was jealous of every one
      who might be a competitor with him. I love this Abbe Saint-Albin, in the
      first place, because he is attached to me, and, in the second, because he
      is really very clever; he has wit and sense, with none of the mummery of
      priests. My son does not esteem him half so much as he deserves, for he is
      one of the best persons in the world; he is pious and virtuous, learned in
      every point, and not vain. It is in vain for my son to deny him; any one
      may see of what race he comes, and I am sorry that he is not legitimated.
      My son is much more fond of Seri's Son.
    </p>
    <p>
      The poor Abbe de Saint-Albin is grieved to death at not being
      acknowledged; while Fortune smiles upon his elder brother, he is
      forgotten, despised, and has no rank; he seeks only to be legitimated. I
      console him as well as I can; but why should I tease my son about the
      business?
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [The Abbe de Saint-Albin was appointed Bishop of Laon, and, after
     Dubois' death, Archbishop of Cambrai.  When he wished to become a
     member of the Parliament he could not give the names either of his
     father or mother; he had been baptized in the name of Cauche, the
     Regent's valet de chambre and purveyor.]
</pre>
    <p>
      It would only put him in the way of greater inconveniences, for, as he has
      also several children by Parabere, she would be no less desirous that he
      should legitimate hers. This consideration ties my tongue.
    </p>
    <p>
      The daughter of the actress Desmarets is somewhat like her mother, but she
      is like no one else. She was educated in a convent at Saint Denis, but had
      no liking for a nun's life. When my son had her first brought to him she
      did not know who she was. When my son told her he was her father, she was
      transported with joy, fancying that she was the daughter of Seri and
      sister to the Chevalier; she thought, too, that she would be legitimated
      immediately. When my son told her that could not be done, and that she was
      Desmarets' daughter, she wept excessively. Her mother had never been
      permitted to see her in the convent; the nuns would not have allowed it,
      and her presence would have been injurious to the child. From the time she
      was born, her mother had not seen her until the present year (1719), when
      she saw her in a box at the theatre, and wept for joy. My son married this
      girl to the Marquis de Segur.
    </p>
    <p>
      An actress at the Opera House, called Mdlle. d'Usg, who is since dead, was
      in great favour with my son, but that did not last long. At her death it
      appeared that, although she had had several children, neither she nor her
      mother nor her grandmother had ever been married.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      SECTION XXIII.&mdash;THE CHEVALIER DE LORRAINE.
    </h2>
    <p>
      The Chevalier de Lorraine looked very ill, but it was in consequence of
      his excessive debauchery, for he had once been a handsome man. He had a
      well-made person, and if the interior had answered to the exterior I
      should have had nothing to say against him. He was, however, a very bad
      man, and his friends were no better than he. Three or four years before my
      husband's death, and for his satisfaction, I was reconciled with the
      Chevalier, and from that time he did me no mischief. He was always before
      so much afraid of being sent away that he used to tell Monsieur he ought
      to know what I was saying and doing, that he might be apprised of any
      attempt that should be made against the Chevalier or his creatures.
    </p>
    <p>
      He died so poor that his friends were obliged to bury him; yet he had
      100,000 crowns of revenue, but he was so bad a manager that his people
      always robbed him. Provided they would supply him when he wanted them with
      a thousand pistoles for his pleasures or his play, he let them dispose of
      his property as they thought fit. That Grancey drew large sums from him.
      He met with a shocking death. He was standing near Madame de Mare,
      Grancey's sister, and telling her that he had been sitting up at some of
      his extravagant pleasures all night, and was uttering the most horrible
      expressions, when suddenly he was stricken with apoplexy, lost the power
      of speech, and shortly afterwards expired.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [He died suddenly in his own house, playing at ombre, as many of his
     family had done, and was regretted by no person except Mdlle. de
     Lillebonne, to whom he was believed to have been privately married.

     &mdash;Note to Dangeau's Journal.  This man, who was suspected of having
     poisoned the King's sister-in-law, was nevertheless in possession of
     four abbeys, the revenues of which defrayed the expenses of his
     debaucheries.]
</pre>
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    <h2>
      SECTION XXIV.&mdash;PHILIP V., KING OF SPAIN.
    </h2>
    <p>
      Louis XIV. wept much when his grandson set out for Spain. I could not help
      weeping, too. The King accompanied him as far as Sceaux. The tears and
      lamentations in the drawing-room were irresistible. The Dauphin was also
      deeply affected.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King of Spain is very hunchbacked, and is not in other respects well
      made; but he is bigger than his brothers. He has the best mien, good
      features, and fine hair. What is somewhat singular, although his hair is
      very light, his eyes are quite black; his complexion is clear red and
      white; he has an Austrian mouth; his voice is deep, and he is singularly
      slow in speaking. He is a good and peaceable sort of a person, but a
      little obstinate when he takes it in his head. He loves his wife above all
      things, leaves all affairs to her, and never interferes in anything. He is
      very pious, and believes he should be damned if he committed any
      matrimonial infidelity. But for his devotion he would be a libertine, for
      he is addicted to women, and it is for this reason he is so fond of his
      wife. He has a very humble opinion of his own merit. He is very easily
      led, and for this reason the Queen will not lose sight of him. He receives
      as current truths whatever is told him by persons to whom he is
      accustomed, and never thinks of doubting. The good gentleman ought to be
      surrounded by competent persons, for his own wit would not carry him far;
      but he is of a good disposition, and is one of the quietest men in the
      world. He is a little melancholy, and there is nothing in Spain to make
      him gay.
    </p>
    <p>
      He must know people before he will speak to them at all. If you desire him
      to talk you must tease him and rally him a little, or he will not open his
      mouth. I have seen Monsieur very impatient at his talking to me while he
      could not get a word from him. Monsieur did not take the trouble to talk
      to him before he was a King, and then he wished him to speak afterwards;
      that did not suit the King. He was not the same with me. In the apartment,
      at table, or at the play, he used to sit beside me. He was very fond of
      hearing tales, and I used to tell them to him for whole evenings: this
      made him well accustomed to me, and he had always something to ask me. I
      have often laughed at the answer he made me when I said to him, "Come,
      Monsieur, why do not you talk to your uncle, who is quite distressed that
      you never speak to him."
    </p>
    <p>
      "What shall I say to him?" he replied, "I scarcely know him."
    </p>
    <p>
      It is quite true that the Queen of Spain was at first very fond of the
      Princesse des Ursins, and that she grieved much when that Princess was
      dismissed for the first time. The story that is told of the Confessor is
      also very true; only one circumstance is wanting in it, that is, that the
      Duc de Grammont, then Ambassador, played the part of the Confessor, and it
      was for this reason he was recalled.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Queen had one certain means of making the King do whatever she wished.
      The good gentleman was exceedingly fond of her, and this fondness she
      turned to good account. She had a small truckle-bed in her room, and when
      the King would not comply with any of her requests she used to make him
      sleep in this bed; but when she was pleased with him he was admitted to
      her own bed; which was the very summit of happiness to the poor King.
      After the Princesse des Ursins had departed, the King recalled the
      Confessor from Rome, and kept him near his own person (1718).
    </p>
    <p>
      The King of Spain can never forgive, and Madame des Ursins has told him so
      many lies to my son's disadvantage that the King can never, while he
      lives, be reconciled to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      Rebenac's&mdash;[Francois de Feuquieres, Called the Comte de Rebenac,
      Extraordinary Ambassador to Spain.]&mdash;passion for the late Queen of
      Spain was of no disadvantage to her; she only laughed at it, and did not
      care for him. It was the Comte de Mansfeld, the man with the pointed nose,
      who poisoned her. He bought over two of her French femmes de chambre to
      give her poison in raw oysters; and they afterwards withheld from her the
      antidote which had been entrusted to their care.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Queen of Spain, daughter of the first Madame,&mdash;[Henrietta of
      England.]&mdash;died in precisely the same manner as she did, and at the
      same age, but in a much more painful manner, for the violence of the
      poison was such as to make her nails fall off.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      SECTION XXV.&mdash;THE DUCHESSE LOUISE-FRANCISQUE, CONSORT OF LOUIS III.,
      DUC DE BOURBON.
    </h2>
    <p>
      I knew a German gentleman who has now been dead a long time (1718), who
      has sworn to me positively that the Duchess is not the daughter of the
      King, but of Marechal de Noailles. He noted the time at which he saw the
      Marshal go into Montespan's apartment, and it was precisely nine months
      from that time that the Duchess came into the world. This German, whose
      name was Bettendorf, was a brigadier in the Body Guard; and he was on
      guard at Montespan's when the captain of the first company paid this visit
      to the King's mistress.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duchess is not prettier than her daughters, but she has more grace;
      her manners are more fascinating and agreeable; her wit shines in her
      eyes, but there is some malignity in them also. I always say she is like a
      very pretty cat, which, while you play with it, lets you feel it has
      claws. No person has a better carriage of the head. It is impossible to
      dance better than the Duchess and her daughters can; but the mother dances
      the best. I do not know how it is, but even her lameness is becoming to
      her. The Duchess has the talent of saying things in so pleasant a manner
      that one cannot help laughing. She is very amusing and uncommonly good
      company; her notions are so very comical. When she wishes to make herself
      agreeable to any one she is very insinuating, and can take all shapes; if
      she were not also treacherous, one might say truly that nobody is more
      amiable than the Duchess; she understands so well how to accommodate
      herself to people's peculiar habits that one would believe she takes a
      real interest in them; but there is nothing certain about her. Although
      her sense is good, her heart is not. Notwithstanding her ambition, she
      seems at first as if she thought only of amusing and diverting herself and
      others; and she can feign so skilfully that one would think she had been
      very agreeably entertained in the society of persons, whom immediately
      upon her return home she will ridicule in all possible ways.
    </p>
    <p>
      La Mailly complained to her aunt, old Maintenon, that her husband was in
      love with the Duchess; but this husband, having afterwards been captivated
      by an actress named Bancour, gave up to her all the Duchess's letters, for
      which he was an impertinent rascal. The Duchess wrote a song upon Mailly,
      in which she reproached her, notwithstanding her airs of prudery, with an
      infidelity with Villeroi, a sergeant of the Guard.
    </p>
    <p>
      In the Duchess's house malice passes for wit, and therefore they are under
      no restraint. The three sisters&mdash;the Duchess, the Princesse de Conti,
      and Madame d'Orleans&mdash;behave to each other as if they were not
      sisters.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Princess is a very virtuous person, and is much displeased at her
      daughter-in-law's manner of life, for Lasso is with her by day and by
      night; at the play, at the Opera, in visits, everywhere Lasso is seen with
      her.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      SECTION XXVI.&mdash;THE YOUNGER DUCHESS.
    </h2>
    <p>
      The Duke's wife is not an ill-looking person: she has good eyes, and would
      be very well if she had not a habit of stretching and poking out her neck.
      Her shape is horrible; she is quite crooked; her back is curved into the
      form of an S. I observed her one day, through curiosity, when the Dauphine
      was helping her to dress.
    </p>
    <p>
      She is a wicked devil; treacherous in every way, and of a very dangerous
      temper. Upon the whole, she is not good for much. Her falsehood was the
      means of preventing the Duke from marrying one of my granddaughters. Being
      the intimate friend of Madame de Berri, who was very desirous that one of
      her sisters should marry the Duke and the other the Prince de Conti, she
      promised to bring about the marriage, provided Madame de Berri would say
      nothing of it to the King or to me. After having imposed this condition,
      she told the King that Madame de Berri and my son were planning a marriage
      without his sanction; in order to punish them she begged the King to marry
      the Duke to herself, which was actually done.
    </p>
    <p>
      Thanks to her good sense, she lives upon tolerable terms with her husband,
      although he has not much affection for her. They follow each their own
      inclinations; they are not at all jealous of each other, and it is said
      they have separate beds.
    </p>
    <p>
      She causes a great many troubles and embarrassments to her relation, the
      young Princesse de Conti, and perfectly understands tormenting folks.
    </p>
    <p>
      The young Duchess died yesterday evening (22nd March, 1720). The Duke's
      joy at the death of his wife will be greatly diminished when he learns
      that she has bequeathed to her sister, Mademoiselle de la Roche-sur-Yon,
      all her property; and as the husband and wife lived according to the
      custom of Paris, 'en communaute', the Duke will be obliged to refund the
      half of all he gained by Law's bank.
    </p>
    <p>
      After the death of the younger Duchess, the Princesse de Conti, her
      mother, wrote to a Chevalier named Du Challar, who was the lover of the
      deceased, to beg him to come and see her, as he was the only object left
      connected with her daughter, and assuring him that he might reckon upon
      her services in everything that depended upon her. It was the younger
      Duchess who was so fond of Lasse, and who had been so familiar with him at
      a masked ball.
    </p>
    <p>
      I recognized only two good qualities in her: her respect and affection for
      her grandmother, the Princess, and the skill with which she concealed her
      faults. Beside this, she was good for nothing, in whatever way her
      character is regarded. That she was treacherous is quite certain; and she
      shortened her life by her improper conduct. She neither loved nor hated
      her husband, and they lived together more like brother and sister than
      husband and wife.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Elector of Bavaria, during his stay at Paris, instead of visiting his
      nephews and nieces, passed all his time, by day and by night, with the
      Duchess and her daughters. As to me, he fled me as he would fly the
      plague, and never spoke to me but in the company of M. de Torcy. The
      Duchess had three of the handsomest daughters in the world: the one called
      Mademoiselle de Clermont is extremely beautiful; but I think her sister,
      the Princesse de Conti, more amiable. The Duchess can drink very copiously
      without being affected; her daughters would fain imitate her, but they
      soon get tipsy, and cannot control themselves as their mother can.
    </p>
    <p>
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    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XXVII.&mdash;LOUIS III., DUC DE BOURBON.
    </h2>
    <p>
      It is said that the Duke has solid parts; he does everything with a
      certain nobility; he has a good person, but the loss of that eye, which
      the Duc de Berri struck out, disfigures him much. He is certainly very
      politic, and this quality he has from his mother. He is polite and
      well-bred; his mind is not very comprehensive, and he has been badly
      instructed. They say he is unfit for business for three reasons: first, on
      account of his ignorance; secondly, for his want of application; and,
      thirdly, for his impatience. I can see that in examining him narrowly one
      would find many defects in him; but he has also many praiseworthy
      qualities, and he possesses many friends. He has a greatness and nobility
      of soul, and a good deportment.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Prince is in love with Madame de Polignac; but she is fond of the
      Duke, who cannot yet forget Madame de Nesle, although she has dismissed
      him to make room for that great calf, the Prince of Soubise. The latter
      person is reported to have said, "Why does the Duke complain? Have I not
      consented to share Madame de Nesle's favours with him whenever he
      chooses?"
    </p>
    <p>
      Such is the delicacy which prevails here in affairs of love.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duke is very passionate. When Madame de Nesle dismissed him he almost
      died of vexation; he looked as if he was about to give up the ghost, and
      for six months he did not know what to do.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Marquis de Villequier, the Duc d'Aumont's son, one day visited the
      Marquise de Nesle. She took it into her head to ask him if he was very
      fond of his wife. Villequier replied, "I am not in love with her; I see
      her very little; our humours differ greatly. She is serious, and for my
      part I like pleasure and gaiety. I feel for her a friendship founded on
      esteem, for she is one of the most virtuous women in France."
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame de Nesle, of whom no man could say so much, took this for an
      insult, and complained of it to the Duke, who promised to avenge her. Some
      days afterwards he invited young Villequier to dine with him at the
      Marquis de Nesle's; there were, besides Madame de Nesle, the Marquis de
      Gevres, Madame de Coligny, and others. During dinner the Duke began thus:
    </p>
    <p>
      "A great many men fancy they are sure of the fidelity of their wives, but
      it is a mistake. I thought to protect myself from this common fate by
      marrying a monster, but it served me nought; for a villain named Du
      Challar, who was more ugly than I am, played me false. As to the Marquis
      de Gevres, as he will never marry * * * , he will be exempt; but you,
      Monsieur de Nesle, you are so and so." Nesle, who did not believe it,
      although it was very true, only laughed. Then addressing himself to
      Villequier, he said, "And you, Villequier, don't you think you are so?" He
      was silent. The Duke continued, "Yes, you are befooled by the Chevalier de
      Pesay."
    </p>
    <p>
      Villequier blushed, but at last said, "I confess that up to this moment I
      had no reason to believe it; but since you put me into such good company I
      have no right to complain."
    </p>
    <p>
      I do not think Madame de Nesle was well revenged.
    </p>
    <p>
      I remember that the Duke, who was terribly ill-made, said one day to the
      late Monsieur, who was a straight, well-formed person, that a mask had
      taken him for Monsieur. The latter, somewhat mortified at such a mistake,
      replied, "I lay that, with all other wrongs done to me, at the foot of the
      Cross."
    </p>
    <p>
      Ever since the Duchess espoused the party of her son against her brother
      and his nephews, the Duke has displayed a great fondness for his mother,
      about whom he never disturbed himself before.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mdlle. de Polignac made the Duke believe she was very fond of him. He
      entertained great suspicions of her, and had her watched, and learnt that
      she was carrying on a secret intrigue with the Chevalier of Bavaria. He
      reproached her with it, and she denied the accusation. The Duke cautioned
      her not to think that she could deceive him. She protested that he had
      been imposed upon. As soon, however, as she had quitted him she went to
      the Chevalier's house; and the Duke, who had her dogged, knew whither she
      had gone. The next day he appointed her to visit him; she went directly to
      the bedroom, believing that his suspicions were entirely lulled. The Duke
      then opened the door wide, so that she might be seen from the cabinet,
      which was full of men; and calling the Chevalier of Bavaria, he said to
      him: "Here, Sir Chevalier, come and see your mistress, who will now have
      no occasion to go so far to find you."
    </p>
    <p>
      Although the Duke and the Prince de Conti are brothers-in-law in two ways,
      they cannot bear each other.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duke is at this moment (1718) very strongly attached to Madame de
      Prie. She has already received a good beating on his account from her
      husband, but this does not deter her. She is said to have a good deal of
      sense; she entirely governs the Duke, who is solely occupied with making
      her unfaithful to M. de Prie. She has consoled the Duke for his dismissal
      from Madame de Nesle; but it is said that she is unfaithful to him, and
      that she has two other lovers. One is the Prince of Carignan, and the
      other Lior, the King's first maitre d'hotel, which latter is the
      handsomest of the three.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is impossible that the Duke can now inspire any woman with affection
      for him. He is tall, thin as a lath; his legs are like those of a crane;
      his body is bent and short, and he has no calves to his legs; his eyes are
      so red that it is impossible to distinguish the bad eye from the good one;
      his cheeks are hollow; his chin so long that one would not suppose it
      belonged to the face; his lips uncommonly large: in short, I hardly ever
      saw a man before so ugly. It is said that the inconstancy of his mistress,
      Madame de Prie, afflicts him profoundly.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     The Marchioness was extremely beautiful, and her whole person was
     very captivating.  Possessing as many mental as personal charms, she
     concealed beneath an apparent simplicity the most dangerous
     treachery.  Without the least conception of virtue, which, according
     to her ideas, was a word void of sense, she affected innocence in
     vice, was violent under an appearance of meekness, and libertine by
     constitution.  She deceived her lover with perfect impunity, who
     would believe what she said even against the evidence of his own
     eyes.  I could mention several instances of this, if they were not
     too indecent.  It is, however, sufficient to say that she had one
     day to persuade him that he was the cause of a libertinism of which
     he was really the victim.&mdash;Memoires de Duclos, tome ii.  It is well
     known that, after the Duke assumed the Regency, upon the death of
     the Regent, the Marchioness du Prie governed in his name; and that
     she was exiled, and died two years afterwards of ennui and vexation.
</pre>
    <p>
      The Princess of Modena takes nothing by the death of the Duchess; the Duke
      has said that he never would have married that Princess, and that now he
      will not marry at all.
    </p>
    <p>
      In order that Mademoiselle de la Roche-sur-Yon may enjoy the millions that
      belong to her of right, in consequence of her sister's death, it is
      necessary first for her to receive them; but the Duke, it is reported, as
      the good Duc de Crequi used to say, "Holds back as tight as the trigger of
      the Cognac cross-bow;" and in fact he has not only refused to give up to
      his sister what she should take under her sister's will, but he disputes
      her right to the bank-notes which she had given to the Duchess to take
      care of for her, when she herself was dangerously ill.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duke and his mother are said to have gained each two hundred and fifty
      millions.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duke, who is looked upon as Law's very good friend, has been
      ill-treated by the people, who have passed all kinds of insults upon him,
      calling him even a dog. His brother, the Marquis de Clermont, too, has
      fared little better; for they cried after him at the Port Royal, "Go
      along, dog! you are not much better than your brother." His tutor alighted
      for the purpose of haranguing the mob; but they picked up some stones, and
      he soon found it expedient to get into the carriage again, and make off
      with all speed.
    </p>
    <p>
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    <div style="height: 4em;">
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    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XXVIII.&mdash;FRANCOIS-LOUIS, PRINCE DE CONTI.
    </h2>
    <p>
      The Prince de Conti, who died lately (in 1709), had good sense, courage,
      and so many agreeable qualities as to make himself generally beloved. But
      he had also some bad points in his character, for he was false, and loved
      no person but himself.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is said that he caused his own death by taking stimulating medicines,
      which destroyed a constitution naturally feeble. There had been some talk
      of making him King of Poland.&mdash;[In 1696, after the death of John
      Sobiesky.]
    </p>
    <p>
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    <div style="height: 4em;">
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    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XXIX.&mdash;THE GREAT PRINCESSE DE CONTI, DAUGHTER OF LA VALLIERE.
    </h2>
    <p>
      This is of all the King's illegitimate daughters the one he most loves.
      She is by far the most polite and well-bred, but she is now totally
      absorbed by devotion.
    </p>
    <p>
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    <div style="height: 4em;">
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    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XXX.&mdash;THE PRINCESS PALATINE, MARIE-THERESE DE BOURBON, WIFE
      OF FRANCOIS-LOUIS,
    </h2>
    <p>
      PRINCE DE CONTI.
    </p>
    <p>
      This Princess is the only one of the House of Conde who is good for
      anything. I think she must have some German blood in her veins. She is
      little, and somewhat on one side, but she is not hunchbacked. She has fine
      eyes, like her father; with this exception, she has no pretensions to
      beauty, but she is virtuous and pious. What she has suffered on account of
      her husband has excited general compassion; he was as jealous as a fiend,
      though without the slightest cause. She never knew where she was to pass
      the night. When she had made arrangements to sleep at Versailles, he would
      take her from Paris to Chantilly, where she supposed she was going to
      stay; then she was obliged to set out for Versailles. He tormented her
      incessantly in all possible ways, and he looked, moreover, like a little
      ape. The late Queen had two paroquets, one of which was the very picture
      of the Prince, while the other was as much like the Marechal de Luxembourg
      as one drop of water is like another.
    </p>
    <p>
      Notwithstanding all that the Princess has suffered, she daily regrets the
      loss of her husband. I am often quite angry to see her bewailing her
      widowhood instead of enjoying the repose which it affords her; she wishes
      that her husband were alive again, even although he should torment her
      again as much as before.
    </p>
    <p>
      She was desirous that Mademoiselle de Conde should marry the late
      Margrave; this lady was incomparably more handsome than her sister; but I
      think he had a greater inclination for Mademoiselle de Vendome, because
      she seemed to be more modest and quiet.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Princess, who has been born and educated here, had not the same
      dislike that I felt to her son's marrying an illegitimate child, and yet
      she has repented it no less. She is exceedingly unhappy with respect to
      her children. The Princesse de Conti, mother of the Prince de Conti, who
      is rather virtuous than otherwise, is nevertheless a little simpleton, and
      is something like the Comtesse Pimbeche Orbeche, for she is always wishing
      to be engaged in lawsuits against her mother; who, on her part, has used
      all possible means, but without success, to be reconciled to her. On
      Thursday last (10th March, 1720) she lost her cause, and I am very glad of
      it, for it was an unjust suit. The younger Princess wished the affair to
      be referred to arbitration; but the son would have the business carried
      through, and made his counsel accuse his mother of falsehood. The advocate
      of the Princess replied as follows:
    </p>
    <p>
      "The sincerity of the Princesse de Conti and of the Princess her daughter
      are so well known that all the world can judge of them." This has amused
      the whole palace.
    </p>
    <p>
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    <div style="height: 4em;">
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    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XXXI.&mdash;LOUISE-ELIZABETH, PRINCESSE DE CONTI, CONSORT OF
      LOUIE-ARMAND DE CONTI.
    </h2>
    <p>
      <a name="image-0006" id="image-0006">
      <!-- IMG --></a>
    </p>
    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
      <img src="images/p276.jpg" alt="Princesse de Conti " width="100%" /><br />
    </div>
    <!-- IMAGE END -->
    <p>
      She is a person full of charms, and a striking proof that grace is
      preferable to beauty. When she chooses to make herself agreeable, it is
      impossible to resist her. Her manners are most fascinating; she is full of
      gentleness, never displaying the least ill-humour, and always saying
      something kind and obliging. It is greatly to be regretted that she is not
      in the society of more virtuous persons, for she is herself naturally very
      good; but she is spoiled by bad company. She has an ugly fool for her
      husband, who has been badly brought up; and the examples which are
      constantly before her eyes are so pernicious that they have corrupted her
      and made her careless of her reputation. Her amiable, unaffected manners
      are highly delightful to foreigners. Among others, some Bavarians have
      fallen in love with her, as well as the Prince Ragotzky; but she disgusted
      him with her coquetry.
    </p>
    <p>
      She does not love her husband, and cannot do so, no less on account of his
      ugly person than for his bad temper. It is not only his face that is
      hideous, but his whole person is frightful and deformed. She terrified him
      by placing some muskets and swords near her bed, and assuring him that if
      he came there again with his pistols charged, she would take the gun and
      fire upon him, and if she missed, she would fall upon him with the sword.
      Since this time he has left off carrying his pistols.
    </p>
    <p>
      Her husband teased her, and made her weep so much that she has lost her
      child, and her health is again injured.
    </p>
    <p>
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    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XXXII.&mdash;LOUIE-ARMAND, PRINCE DE CONTI.
    </h2>
    <p>
      It cannot be denied that his whole appearance is extremely repulsive. He
      is a horribly ill-made little man, and is always absent-minded, which
      gives him a distracted air, as if he were really crazy. When it could be
      the least expected, too, he will fall over his own walking-stick. The
      folks in the palace were so much accustomed to this in the late King's
      time, that they used always to say, when they heard anything fall,
    </p>
    <p>
      "It's nothing; only the Prince de Conti tumbling down."
    </p>
    <p>
      He has sense, but he has been brought up like a scullion boy; he has
      strange whimsies, of which he is quite aware himself, but which he cannot
      control. His wife is a charming woman, and is much to be pitied for being
      in fear of her life from this madman, who often threatens her with loaded
      pistols. Fortunately, she has plenty of courage and does not fear him.
      Notwithstanding this, he is very fond of her; and this is the more
      surprising, because his love for the sex is not very strong; and although
      he visits improper places occasionally, it is only for the purpose of
      tormenting the poor wretches who are to be found there. Before he was
      married he felt no, affection for any woman but his mother, who also loved
      him very tenderly. She is now vexed at having no longer the same
      ascendency over her son, and is jealous of her daughter-in-law because the
      Prince loves her alone. This occasions frequent disturbances in the house.
      The mother has had a house: built at some distance from her son. When they
      are good friends, she dismisses the workmen; but when they quarrel, she
      doubles the number and hastens the work, so that one may always tell, upon
      a mere inspection of the building, upon what terms the Princesse de Conti
      and her son are living. The mother wished to have her grandson to educate;
      her daughter-in-law opposed it because she preferred taking care of him
      herself; and then ensued a dog-and-cat quarrel. The wife, who is cunning
      enough, governs her husband entirely, and has gained over his favourites
      to be her creatures. She is the idol of the-whole house.
    </p>
    <p>
      In order to prevent the Prince de Conti from going to Hungary, the
      government of Poitou has been bought for him, and a place in the Council
      of the Regency allotted to him; by this means they have retained the wild
      beast.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our young Princess says her husband has a rheum in his eyes.
    </p>
    <p>
      To amuse her, he reads aloud Ovid in the original; and although she does
      not understand one word of Latin, she is obliged to listen and to remain
      silent, even though any one should come in; for if anybody interrupts him
      he is angry, and scolds all who are in the apartment.
    </p>
    <p>
      At the last masked ball (4th March, 1718) some one who had dressed himself
      like the Prince de Conti, and wore a hump on his back, went and sat beside
      him. "Who are you, mask?" asked the Prince.
    </p>
    <p>
      The other replied, "I am the Prince de Conti."
    </p>
    <p>
      Without the least ill-temper, the Prince took off his mask, and, laughing,
      said, "See how a man may be deceived. I have been fancying for the last
      twenty years that I was the Prince de Conti." To keep one's temper on such
      an occasion is really an uncommon thing.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Prince thought himself quite cured, but he has had a relapse in Spain,
      and, although he is a general of cavalry, he cannot mount his horse. I
      said on Tuesday last (17th July, 1719) to the young Princesse de Conti
      that I heard her husband was not entirely recovered. She laughed and
      whispered to me,&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "Oh, yes, he is quite well; but he pretends not to be so that he may avoid
      going to the siege, where he may be killed, for he is as cowardly as an
      ape." I think if I had as little inclination for war as he has, I would
      not engage in the campaign at all; there is nothing to oblige him to do
      so-it is to reap glory, not to encounter shame, that men go into the army.
      His best friends, Lanoue and Cleremont, for example, have remonstrated
      with him on this subject, and he has quarrelled with them in consequence.
      It is an unfortunate thing for a man not to know himself.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Prince is terribly afflicted with a dysentery. They wanted to carry
      him to Bayonne, but he has so violent a fever that he would not be able to
      support the journey. He is therefore obliged to stay with the army (25th
      August, 1719).
    </p>
    <p>
      He has been back nine or ten days, but I have heard nothing of him yet; he
      is constantly engaged in the Rue de Quincampoix, trying to gain money
      among the stock-jobbers (19th September, 1719).
    </p>
    <p>
      At length he has been to see me. Perhaps there was this morning less
      stock-jobbing than usual in the Rue de Quincampoix, for there he has been
      ever since his return. His cousin, the Duke, is engaged in the same
      pursuit. The Prince de Conti has not brought back much honour from the
      campaign; he is too much addicted to debauchery of all kinds.
    </p>
    <p>
      Although he can be polite when he chooses, no one can behave more brutally
      than he does occasionally, and he becomes more and more mad daily.
    </p>
    <p>
      At one of the last opera balls he seized a poor little girl just come from
      the country, took her from her mother's side, and, placing her between his
      own legs, amused himself by slapping and filliping her until he made her
      nose and mouth bleed. The young girl, who had done nothing to offend him,
      and who did not even know him, wept bitterly; but he only laughed, and
      said, "Cannot I give nice fillips?" All who were witnesses of this brutal
      scene pitied her; but no one dared come to the poor child's assistance,
      for they were afraid of having anything to do with this violent madman. He
      makes the most frightful grimaces, and I, who am extremely frightened at
      crazy people, tremble whenever I happen to be alone with him.
    </p>
    <p>
      His wicked pranks remind me of my own. When I was a child I used to take
      touchwood, and, placing pieces of it over my eyes and in my mouth, I hid
      myself upon the staircase for the purpose of terrifying the people; but I
      was then much afraid of ghosts, so that I was always the first to be
      frightened. It is in the same way that the Prince de Conti does; he wishes
      to make himself feared, and he is the most timid person in the world.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duke and his mother, as well as Lasse, the friend of the latter, have
      gained several millions. The Prince has gained less, and yet his winnings,
      they say, amount to millions.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [He had four wagons loaded with silver carried from Law's bank, in
     exchange for his paper money; and this it was that accelerated Law's
     disgrace, and created a kind of popularity for the Prince de Conti.]
</pre>
    <p>
      The two cousins do not stir from the Rue de Quincampoix, which has given
      rise to the following epigram:
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
                    Prince dites nous vos exploits
                    Que faites vous pour votre gloire?
                    Taisez-vous sots!&mdash;Lisez l'histoire
                    De la rue de Quincampoix.
</pre>
    <p>
      But the person who had gained most by this affair is Dantin, who is
      horridly avaricious.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Princesse de Conti told me that she had had her son examined in his
      infancy by Clement, for the purpose of ascertaining whether he was in
      every respect well made; and that he, having found the child perfectly
      well made, went to the Prince de Conti, and said to him: "Monseigneur, I
      have examined the shape of the young Prince who is just born: he is at all
      points well formed, let him sleep without a bolster that he may remain so;
      and only imagine what grief it would occasion to the Princesse de Conti,
      who has brought him into the world straight, if you should make him
      crooked."
    </p>
    <p>
      The Prince de Conti wished to speak of something else, but Clement still
      returned to the same topic, saying, "Remember, Monseigneur, he is straight
      as a wand, and do not make him crooked and hunchbacked."
    </p>
    <p>
      The Prince de Conti, not being able to endure this, ran away.
    </p>
    <p>
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    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XXXIII.&mdash;THE ABBE DUBOIS.
    </h2>
    <p>
      My son had a sub-governor, and he it was who appointed the Abbe, a very
      learned person, to be his tutor. The sub-governor's intention was to have
      dismissed the Abbe as soon as he should have taught my son sufficiently,
      and, excepting during the time occupied by the lessons, he never suffered
      him to remain with his pupil. But this good gentleman could not accomplish
      his design; for being seized with a violent colic, he died, unhappily for
      me, in a few hours. The Abbe then proposed himself to supply his place.
      There was no other preceptor near at hand, so the Abbe remained with my
      son, and assumed so adroitly the language of an honest man that I took him
      for one until my son's marriage; then it was that I discovered all his
      knavery. I had a strong regard for him, because I thought he was tenderly
      attached to my son, and only desired to promote his advantage; but when I
      found that he was a treacherous person, who thought only of his own
      interest, and that, instead of carefully trying to preserve my son's
      honour, he plunged him into ruin by permitting him to give himself up to
      debauchery without seeming to perceive it, then my esteem for this artful
      priest was changed into disgust. I know, from my son himself, that the
      Abbe, having one day met him in the street, just as he was about to enter
      a house of ill-fame, did nothing but laugh at him, instead of taking him
      by the arm and leading him home again. By this culpable indulgence, and by
      the part he took in my son's marriage, he has proved that there is neither
      faith nor honesty in him. I know that I do him no wrong in suspecting him
      to have contributed to my son's marriage; what I say I have from my son
      himself, and from people who were living with that old Maintenon at the
      time, when the Abbe used to go nightly for the purpose of arranging that
      intrigue with her, the object of which was to sell and betray his master.
      He deceives himself if he fancies that I do not know all this. At first he
      had declared in my favour, but after the old woman had sent for him two or
      three times he suddenly changed his conduct. It was not, however, on this
      that the King afterwards took a dislike to him, but for a nefarious scheme
      in which he was engaged with the Pere La Chaise. Monsieur was as much
      vexed as I. The King and the old woman threatened to dismiss all his
      favourites, which made him consent to everything; he repented afterwards,
      but it was then too late.
    </p>
    <p>
      I would to God that the Abbe Dubois had as much religion as he has talent!
      but he believes in nothing&mdash;he is treacherous and wicked&mdash;his
      falsehood may be seen in his very eyes. He has the look of a fox; and his
      device is an animal of this sort, creeping out of his hole and watching a
      fowl. He is unquestionably a good scholar, talks well, and has instructed
      my son well; but I wish he had ceased to visit his pupil after his tuition
      was terminated. I should not then have to regret this unfortunate
      marriage, to which I can never reconcile myself. Excepting the Abbe Dubois
      there is no priest in my son's favour. He has a sort of indistinctness in
      his speech, which makes it sometimes necessary for him to repeat his
      words; and this often annoys me.
    </p>
    <p>
      If there is anything which detracts from the Abbe's good sense it is his
      extreme pride; it is a weak side upon which he may always be successfully
      attacked. I wish my son had as little confidence in him as I have; but
      what astonishes me most is that, knowing him as he does, better than I do,
      he will still trust him. My son is like the rest of his family; he cannot
      get rid of persons to whom he is accustomed, and as the Abbe has been his
      tutor, he has acquired a habit of suffering him to say anything he
      chooses. By his amusing wit, too, he always contrives to restore himself
      to my son's good graces, even when the latter has been displeased with
      him.
    </p>
    <p>
      If the Abbe had been choked with his first lie he had been dead long ago.
      Lying is an art in which he excels, and the more eminently where his own
      interest is concerned; if I were to enumerate all the lies I have known
      him to utter I should have a long list to write. He it was who suggested
      to the King all that was necessary to be said to him respecting my son's
      marriage, and for this purpose he had secret interviews with Madame de
      Maintenon. He affects to think we are upon good terms, and whatever I say
      to him, however disagreeable, he takes it all with a smile.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son has most amply recompensed the Abbe Dubois; he has given him the
      place of Secretary of the King's Cabinet, which M. Calieres formerly held,
      and which is worth 22,000 livres; he has also given him a seat in the
      Council of Regency for the Foreign Affairs.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son assures me that it is not his intention to make the Abbe Dubois a
      Cardinal, and that the Abbe himself does not think about it (17th August,
      1717).
    </p>
    <p>
      On the 6th of March, this disagreeable priest came to me and said,
      "Monseigneur has just nominated me Archbishop of Cambrai." I replied, "I
      congratulate you upon it; but has this taken place today? I heard of it a
      week ago; and, since you were seen to take the oaths on your appointment,
      no one has doubted it." It is said that the Duc de Mazarin said, on the
      Abbe's first Mass, "The Abbe Dubois is gone to his first communion;"
      meaning that he had never before taken the communion in all his life. I
      embarrassed my son by remarking to him that he had changed his opinion
      since he told me the Abbe should never become Bishop or Archbishop, and
      that he did not think of being Cardinal. My son blushed and answered, "It
      is very true; but I had good reason for changing my intention." "Heaven
      grant it may be so," I said, "for it must be by God's mercy, and not from
      the exercise of your own reason."
    </p>
    <p>
      The Archbishop of Cambrai is the declared enemy of our Abbe Saint-Albin.
      The word arch is applicable to all his qualities; he is an arch-cheat, an
      arch-hypocrite, an arch-flatterer, and, above all, an arch-knave.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is reported that a servant of the Archbishop of Rheims said to a
      servant of the Archbishop of Cambrai, "Although my master is not a
      Cardinal, he is still a greater lord than yours, for he consecrates the
      Kings."
    </p>
    <p>
      "Yes," replied the Abbe Dubois' servant, "but my master consecrates the
      real God, who is still greater than all Kings."
    </p>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_SECT34" id="link2H_SECT34">
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    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XXXIV.&mdash;MR. LAW.
    </h2>
    <p>
      Mr. Law is a very honest and a very sensible man; he is extremely polite
      to everybody, and very well bred. He does not speak French ill&mdash;at
      least, he speaks it much better than Englishmen in general. It is said
      that when his brother arrived in Paris, Mr. Law made him a present of
      three millions (of livres); he has good talents, and has put the affairs
      of the State in such good order that all the King's debts have been paid.
      He is admirably skilled in all that relates to finance. The late King
      would have been glad to employ him, but, as Mr. Law was not a Catholic, he
      said he ought not to confide in him (19th Sept., 1719).
    </p>
    <p>
      He (Law) says that, of all the persons to whom he has explained his
      system, there have been only two who have properly comprehended it, and
      these are the King of Sicily and my son; he was quite astonished at their
      having so readily understood it. He is so much run after, that he has no
      repose by day or by night. A Duchess even kissed his hand publicly.
    </p>
    <p>
      If a Duchess can do this, what will not other ladies do?
    </p>
    <p>
      Another lady, who pursued him everywhere, heard that he was at Madame de
      Simiane's, and immediately begged the latter to permit her to dine with
      her. Madame de Simiane went to her and said she must be excused for that
      day, as Mr. Law was to dine with her. Madame de Bouchu replied that it was
      for this reason expressly she wished to be invited. Madame de Simiane only
      repeated that she did not choose to have Mr. Law troubled, and so quitted
      her. Having, however, ascertained the dinner-hour, Madame de Bouchu passed
      before the house in her coach, and made her coachman and footman call out
      "Fire!" Immediately all the company quitted the table to know where the
      fire was, and among them Mr. Law appeared. As soon as Madame de Bouchu saw
      him, she jumped out of her carriage to speak to him; but he, guessing the
      trick, instantly disappeared.
    </p>
    <p>
      Another lady ordered her carriage to be driven opposite to Mr. Law's hotel
      and then to be overturned. Addressing herself to the coachman, she said,
      "Overturn here, you blockhead&mdash;overturn!" Mr. Law ran out to her
      assistance, when she confessed to him that she had done this for the sole
      purpose of having an interview with him.
    </p>
    <p>
      <a name="image-0007" id="image-0007">
      <!-- IMG --></a>
    </p>
    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
      <img src="images/p290.jpg" alt="Overturn Here, You Blockhead " width="100%" /><br />
    </div>
    <!-- IMAGE END -->
    <p>
      A servant had gained so much in the Rue de Quincampoix, that he was
      enabled to set up his equipage. When his coach was brought home, he forgot
      who he was, and mounted behind. His servant cried out, "Ah, sir! what are
      you doing? this is your own carriage."
    </p>
    <p>
      "That is true," said the quondam servant; "I had forgotten."
    </p>
    <p>
      Mr. Law's coachman having also made a very considerable sum, demanded
      permission to retire from his service. His master gave it him, on
      condition of his procuring him another good coachman. On the next day, the
      wealthy coachman made his appearance with two persons, both of whom were,
      he said, good coachmen; and that Mr. Law had only to choose which of them
      he liked, while he, the coachman, would take the other.
    </p>
    <p>
      People of all nations in Europe are daily coming to Paris; and it has been
      remarked that the number of souls in the capital has been increased by
      250,000 more than usual. It has been necessary to make granaries into
      bedrooms; there is such a profusion of carriages that the streets are
      choked up with them, and many persons run great danger.
    </p>
    <p>
      Some ladies of quality seeing a well-dressed woman covered with diamonds,
      and whom nobody knew, alight from a very handsome carriage, were curious
      to know who it was, and sent to enquire of the lackey. He replied, with a
      sneer, "It is a lady who has recently tumbled from a garret into this
      carriage." This lady was probably of the same sort as Madame Bejon's cook.
      That lady, being at the opera, some days back, saw a person in a costly
      dress, and decorated with a great quantity of jewels, but very ugly, enter
      the theatre. The daughter said, "Mamma, unless I am very much deceived,
      that lady so dressed out is Mary, our cook-maid."
    </p>
    <p>
      "Hold your tongue, my dear," said the mother, "and don't talk such
      nonsense."
    </p>
    <p>
      Some of the young people, who were in the amphitheatre, began to cry out,
      "Mary, the cook-maid! Mary, the cook-maid!"
    </p>
    <p>
      The lady in the fine dress rose and said, "Yes, madam, I am Mary, the
      cook-maid; I have gained some money in the Rue de Quincampoix; I like to
      be well-dressed; I have bought some fine gowns, and I have paid for them.
      Can you say so much for your own?"
    </p>
    <p>
      Mr. Law is not the only person who has bought magnificent jewels and
      extensive estates. The Duke, too, has become immensely rich, as well as
      all those who have held stock. Mr. Law has made his abjuration at Melun;
      he has embraced the Catholic religion, with his children, and his wife is
      in utter despair at it.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [The abjuration did not take place at Paris, because the jokes of
     the Parisians were to be dreaded.  The Abbe Tencin was so fortunate
     as to have the office of converting Mr. Law.  "He gained by this
     pious labour," says Duclos, "a large sum in bank-notes and stock."]
</pre>
    <p>
      It is amusing enough to see how the people run after him in crowds only to
      be looked at by him or his son. He has had a terrible quarrel with the
      Prince de Conti, who wished Mr. Law to do at the bank a thing which my son
      had forbidden. The Prince de Conti said to Mr. Law, "Do you know who I
      am?"
    </p>
    <p>
      "Yes, Prince," replied Law, "or I should not treat you as I have done."
    </p>
    <p>
      "Then," said the Prince, "you ought to obey me."
    </p>
    <p>
      "I will obey you," replied Law, "when you shall be Regent;" and he
      withdrew.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Princesse de Leon would be taken to the bank, and made her footmen cry
      out, "Room for the Princesse de Lion." At the same time she, who is very
      little, slipped into the place where the bankers and their clerks were
      sitting.
    </p>
    <p>
      "I want some stock," said she.
    </p>
    <p>
      The clerk replied, "You must have patience, madame, the certificates are
      delivered in rotation, and you must wait until those who applied before
      you are served."
    </p>
    <p>
      At the same time he opened the drawer where the stock-papers were kept;
      the Princess snatched at them; the clerk tried to prevent her, and a fight
      ensued. The clerk was now alarmed at having beaten a lady of quality, and
      ran out to ask the servants who the Princesse de Leon was. One of the
      footmen-said, "She is a lady of high rank, young and beautiful."
    </p>
    <p>
      "Well, then," said the clerk, "it cannot be she."
    </p>
    <p>
      Another footman said, "The Princesse de Leon is a little woman with a
      hunch before and another behind, and with arms so long that they nearly
      reach the ground."
    </p>
    <p>
      "Then," replied the clerk, "that is she."
    </p>
    <p>
      Mr. Law is not avaricious; he gives away large soma in charity, and
      assists many indigent people.
    </p>
    <p>
      When my son wanted some Duchess to accompany my daughter to Geneva, some
      one, who heard him speaking about it, said, "if, Monsieur, you would like
      to select from a number of Duchesses, send to Mr. Law's; you will find
      them all there."
    </p>
    <p>
      Lord Stair cannot conceal his hatred of Mr. Law, and yet he has gained at
      least three millions by him.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mr. Law's son was to have danced in the King's ballet, but he has been
      attacked by the small-pox (9th Feb., 1720).
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
                    .........................
</pre>
    <p>
      My son has been obliged to displace Mr. Law. This person, who was formerly
      worshipped like a god, is now not sure of his life; it is astonishing how
      greatly terrified he is. He is no longer Comptroller-General, but
      continues to hold the place of Director-General of the Bank and of the
      East India Company; certain members of the Parliamentary Council have,
      however, been joined with him to watch over the business of the Bank.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [In the Council of the Regency, the Duc d'Orleans was obliged to:
     admit that Law issued papers to the amount of 1,200 millions above
     the legal sum; and that he (the Regent) had protected him from all
     responsibility by decrees of the Council which had been ante-dated.
     The total, amount of bank-notes in circulation was 2,700,000,000
     livres.]
</pre>
    <p>
      His friend, the Duc d'Antin wanted to get the place of Director.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duke at first spoke strongly against Law; but it is said that a sum of
      four millions, three of which went to him and one to Madame de Prie, has
      engaged him to undertake Law's defence. My son is not timid, although he
      is threatened on all sides, and is very much amused with Law's terrors
      (25th June, 1720).
    </p>
    <p>
      At length the latter is somewhat recovered, and continues to be great
      friends with the Duke: this is very pleasant to the Duc de Conti, and
      makes him behave so strangely that his infirmity is observed by the
      people. It is fortunate for us that Law is so great a coward, otherwise he
      would be very troublesome to my son, who, learning that he was joining in
      a cabal against him, told his wife of it. "Well, Monsieur," said she,
      "what would you have him do? He likes to be talked of, and he has no other
      way of accomplishing it. What would people have to say of him if he did
      not?"
    </p>
    <p>
      On the 17th of June, while I was at the Carmelites, Madame de
      Chateau-Thiers came to me in my chamber, and said, "M. de Simiane is just
      come in from the Palais Royal, and he thinks it fit you should know that
      upon your return you will find the court of the Palais Royal filled with
      people, who, though they do not say anything, will not disperse."
    </p>
    <p>
      At six o'clock this morning they brought in three dead bodies, which M. Le
      Blanc ordered to be carried away immediately.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mr. Law has taken refuge in the Palais Royal. The populace have done him
      no harm, but his coachman has been pelted on his return, and the carriage
      broken to pieces. It was the coachman's own fault, who said aloud that the
      people were rabble, and ought to be all hanged. I saw immediately that it
      would not do to display any fear, and I set off. There was such a stoppage
      of the carriages that I was obliged to wait half an hour before I could
      get into the Palais Royal. During this time I heard the people talking;
      they said nothing against my son, and bestowed benedictions upon me, but
      they all wished Law to be hanged. When I reached the Palais Royal all was
      calm again; my son came to me immediately, and, notwithstanding the alarm
      I had felt, he made me laugh; as for himself, he had not the least fear.
      He told me that the first president had made a good impromptu upon this
      affair. Having occasion to go down into the court, he heard what the
      people had done with Law's carriage, and, upon returning to the Salon, he
      said with great gravity:
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
                   "Messieurs, bonne nouvelle,
                    Le carrosse de Law est en canelle."
</pre>
    <p>
      Is not this a becoming jest for such serious personages? M. Le Blanc went
      into the midst of the people with great firmness, and made a speech to
      them; he afterwards had Law escorted home and all became tranquil.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is almost impossible that Law should escape, for the same soldiers who
      protect him from the fury of the people will not permit him to go out of
      their hands. He is by no means at his ease, and yet I think the people do
      not now intend to pursue him any farther, for they have begun to make all
      kinds of songs about him.
    </p>
    <p>
      Law is said to be in such an agony of fear that he has not been able to
      venture to my son's at Saint Cloud, although he sent a carriage to fetch
      him. He is a dead man; he is as pale as a sheet, and it is said can never
      get over his last panic. The people's hatred of the Duke arises from his
      being the friend of Law, whose children he carried to Saint Maur, where
      they are to remain.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Boursel, passing through the Rue Saint Antoine in his way from the
      Jesuits' College, had his carriage stopped by a hackney coachman, who
      would neither come on nor go back. M. Boursel's footman, enraged at his
      obstinacy, struck the coachman, and, M. Boursel getting out of his coach
      to restrain his servant's rage, the coachman resolved to be avenged of
      both master and man, and so began to cry out, "Here is Law going to kill
      me; fall upon him."
    </p>
    <p>
      The people immediately ran with staves and stones, and attacked Boursel,
      who took refuge in the church of the Jesuits. He was pursued even to the
      altar, where he found a little door opened which led into the convent. He
      rushed through and shut it after him, by which means he saved his life.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Chiverni, the tutor of the Duc de Chartres, was going into the
      Palais Royal in a chair, when a child about eight years old cried out,
      "There goes Law!" and the people immediately assembled. M. Chiverni, who
      is a little, meagre-faced, ugly old man, said pleasantly enough, "I knew
      very well I had nothing to fear when I should show them my face and
      figure."
    </p>
    <p>
      As soon as they saw him they suffered him to get quietly into his chair
      and to enter the gates of the palace.
    </p>
    <p>
      On the 10th of December (1720), Law withdrew; he is now at one of his
      estates about six miles from Paris. The Duke, who wished to visit him,
      thought proper to take Mdlle. de Prie's post-chaise, and put his footman
      into a grey livery, otherwise the people would have known and have
      maltreated him.
    </p>
    <p>
      Law is gone to Brussels; Madame de Prie lent him her chaise. When he
      returned it, he wrote thanking her, and at the same time sent her a ring
      worth 100,000 livres. The Duke provided him with relays, and made four of
      his own people accompany him. When he took leave of my son, Law said to
      him, "Monsieur, I have committed several great faults, but they are merely
      such as are incident to humanity; you will find neither malice nor
      dishonesty in my conduct." His wife would not go away until she had paid
      all their debts; he owed to his rotisseur alone 10,000 livres.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [Mr. Law retired to Venice, and there ended his days.  Some memoirs
     state that he was not married to the Englishwoman who passed for his
     wife.]
</pre>
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    <h2>
      BOOK 4.
    </h2>
    <p>
      Victor Amadeus II. The Grand Duchess, Consort of Cosimo II. of Florence
      The Duchesse de Lorraine, Elizabeth-Charlotte d'Orleans The Duc du Maine
      The Duchesse du Maine Louvois Louis XV. Anecdotes and Historical
      Particulars of Various Persons Explanatory Notes
    </p>
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    <h2>
      SECTION XXXV.&mdash;VICTOR AMADEUS, KING OF SICILY.
    </h2>
    <p>
      It is said that the King of Sicily is always in ill humour, and that he is
      always quarrelling with his mistresses. He and Madame de Verrue have
      quarrelled, they say, for whole days together. I wonder how the good Queen
      can love him with such constancy; but she is a most virtuous person and
      patience itself. Since the King had no mistresses he lives upon better
      terms with her. Devotion has softened his heart and his temper.
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame de Verrue is, I dare say, forty-eight years of age (1718). I shared
      some of the profits of her theft by buying of her 160 medals of gold, the
      half of those which she stole from the King of Sicily. She had also boxes
      filled with silver medals, but they were all sold in England.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [The Comtesse de Verrue was married at the age of thirteen years.
     Victor Amadeus, then King of Sardinia, fell in love with her.  She
     would have resisted, and wrote to her mother and her husband, who
     were both absent.  They only joked her about it.  She then took that
     step which all the world knows.  At the age of eighteen, being at a
     dinner with a relation of her husband's, she was poisoned.  The
     person she suspected was the same that was dining with her; he did
     not quit her, and wanted to have her blooded.  Just at this time the
     Spanish Ambassador at Piedmont sent her a counter-poison which had a
     happy effect: she recovered, but never would mention whom she
     suspected.  She got tired of the King, and persuaded her brother,
     the Chevalier de Lugner, to come and carry her off, the King being
     then upon a journey.  The rendezvous was in a chapel about four
     leagues distant from Turin.  She had a little parrot with her.  Her
     brother arrived, they set out together, and, after having proceeded
     four leagues on her journey, she remembered that she had forgotten
     her parrot in the chapel.  Without regarding the danger to which she
     exposed her brother, she insisted upon returning to look for her
     parrot, and did so.  She died in Paris in the beginning of the reign
     of Louis XV.  She was fond of literary persons, and collected about
     her some of the best company of that day, among whom her wit and
     grace enabled her to cut a brilliant figure.  She was the intimate
     friend of the poet La Faye, whom she advised in his compositions,
     and whose life she made delightful.  Her fondness for the arts and
     pleasure procured for her the appellation of 'Dame de Volupte', and
     she wrote this epitaph upon herself:

                   "Ci git, dans un pais profonde,
                    Cette Dame de Volupte,
                    Qui, pour plus grande surete,
                    Fit son Paradis dans ce monde."]
</pre>
    <p>
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    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XXXVI.&mdash;THE GRAND DUCHESS, WIFE OF COSMO II. OF FLORENCE.
    </h2>
    <p>
      The Grand Duchess has declared to me, that, from the day on which she set
      out for Florence, she thought of nothing but her return, and the means of
      executing this design as soon as she should be able.
    </p>
    <p>
      No one could approve of her deserting her husband, and the more
      particularly as she speaks very well of him, and describes the manner of
      living at Florence as like a terrestrial paradise.
    </p>
    <p>
      She does not think herself unfortunate for having travelled, and looks
      upon all the grandeur she enjoyed at Florence as not to be compared with
      the unrestrained way of living in which she indulges here. She is very
      amusing when she relates her own history, in the course of which she by no
      means flatters herself.
    </p>
    <p>
      "Indeed, cousin," I say to her often, "you do not flatter yourself, but
      you really tell things which make against you."
    </p>
    <p>
      "Ah, no matter," she replies, "I care not, provided I never see the Grand
      Duke again."
    </p>
    <p>
      She cannot be accused of any amorous intrigue.
    </p>
    <p>
      Her husband furnishes her with very little money; and at this moment
      (April, 1718) he owes her fifteen months of her pension. She is now really
      in want of money to enable her to take the waters of Bourbon. The Grand
      Duke, who is very avaricious, thinks she will die soon, and therefore
      holds back the payments that he may take advantage of that event when it
      shall happen.
    </p>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_SECT37" id="link2H_SECT37">
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    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XXXVII.&mdash;THE DUCHESSE DE LORRAINE, ELIZABETH-CHARLOTTE
      PHILIPPINE D'ORLEANS, CONSORT OF LEOPOLD JOSEPH-CHARLES DE LORRAINE.
    </h2>
    <p>
      My daughter is ugly; even more so than she was, for the fine complexion
      which she once had has become sun-burnt. This makes a great difference in
      the appearance, and causes a person to look old. She has an ugly round
      nose, and her eyes are sunken; but her shape is preserved, and, as she
      dances well, and her manners are easy and polished, any one may see that
      she is a person of breeding. I know many people who pique themselves upon
      their good manners, and who still have not so much reason as she has. At
      all events I am content with my child as she is; and I would rather see
      her ugly and virtuous than pretty and profligate like the rest.
    </p>
    <p>
      Whenever the time of her accouchement approaches, she never fails to bid
      her friends adieu, in the notion that she will die. Fortunately she has
      hitherto always escaped well.
    </p>
    <p>
      When jealousy is once suffered to take root, it is impossible to extirpate
      it&mdash;therefore it is better not to let it gain ground. My daughter
      pretends not to be affected by hers, but she often suffers great
      affliction from it. This is not astonishing, because she is very fond of
      her children; and the woman with whom the Duke is infatuated, together
      with her husband, do not leave him a farthing; they completely ruin his
      household. Craon is an accursed cuckold and a treacherous man. The Duc de
      Lorraine knows that my daughter is acquainted with everything, and I
      believe he likes her the better that she does not remonstrate with him,
      but endures all patiently. He is occasionally kind to her, and, provided
      that he only says tender things to her, she is content and cheerful.
    </p>
    <p>
      I should almost believe that the Duke's mistress has given him a philtre,
      as Neidschin did to the Elector of Saxony. When he does not see her, it is
      said he perspires copiously at the head, and, in order that the cuckold of
      a husband may say nothing about the affair, the Duke suffers him to do
      whatever he pleases. He and his wife, who is gouvernante, rule everything,
      although neither the one nor the other has any feeling of honour. She is
      to come hither, it seems, with the Duke and Duchess.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duc de Lorraine is here incog.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [He came to Paris for the purpose of soliciting an arrondissement in
     Champagne and the title of Royal Highness.  Through the influence of
     his mother-in-law he obtained both the one and the other.  By virtue
     of a treaty very disadvantageous for France, but which was
     nevertheless registered by the Parliament, he increased his states
     by adding to them a great number of villages.]
</pre>
    <p>
      under the title of the Comte de Blamont. Formerly the chase was his
      greatest passion; but now, it seems, the swain is wholly amorous. It is in
      vain for him to attempt to conceal it; for the more he tries, the more
      apparent it becomes. When you would suppose he is about to address you,
      his head will turn round, and his eyes wander in search of Madame Craon;
      it is quite diverting to see him. I cannot conceive how my daughter can
      love her husband so well, and not display more jealousy. It is impossible
      for a man to be more amorous than the Duke is of Craon (19th of April,
      1718).
    </p>
    <p>
      It cannot be denied that she (Madame de Craon) is full of agreeable
      qualities. Although she is not a beauty, she has a good shape, a fine
      skin, and a very white complexion; but her greatest charms are her mouth
      and teeth. When she laughs it is in a very pleasing and modest manner; she
      behaves properly and respectfully in my daughter's presence; if she did
      the same when she is not with her, one would have nothing to complain of.
      It is not surprising that such a woman should be beloved; she really
      deserves it. But she treats her lover with the utmost haughtiness, as if
      she were the Duchesse de Lorraine and he M. de Luneville. I never saw a
      man more passionately attached than he appears to be; when she is not
      present, he fixes his eyes upon the door with an expression of anxiety;
      when she appears, he smiles and is calm; it is really very droll to
      observe him. She, on the contrary, wishes to prevent persons from
      perceiving it, and seems to care nothing about him. As the Duke was
      crossing a hall here with her upon his arm, some of the people said aloud,
      "That is the Duc de Lorraine with his mistress." Madame Craon wept
      bitterly, and insisted upon the Duke complaining of it to his brother. The
      Duke did in fact complain; but my son laughed at him, and replied, "that
      the King himself could not prevent that; that he should despise such
      things, and seem not to hear them."
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame Craon was my daughter's fille d'honneur; she was then called
      Mademoiselle de Ligneville, and there it was that the Duke fell in love
      with her. M. Craon was in disgrace with the Duke, who was about to dismiss
      him as a rascal, for having practised a sharping trick at play; but, as he
      is a cunning fellow, he perceived the Duke's love for Mademoiselle de
      Ligneville, although he pretended to make a great mystery of it. About
      this time Madame de Lenoncourt, my daughter's dame d'atour, happened to
      die. The Duke managed to have Mademoiselle de Ligneville appointed in her
      room; and Craon, who is rich, offered to marry this poor lady. The Duke
      was delighted with the plan of marrying her to one who would lend himself
      to the intrigue; and thus she became Madame de Craon, and dame d'atour.
      The old gouvernante dying soon afterwards, my daughter thought to gratify
      her husband, as well as Madame de Craon, by appointing her dame d'honneur;
      and this it is that has brought such disgrace upon her.
    </p>
    <p>
      My daughter is in despair. Craon and his wife want to take a journey of
      ten days, for the purpose of buying a marquisate worth 800,000 livres. The
      Duke will not remain during this time with his wife, but chooses it for an
      opportunity to visit all the strong places of Alsatia. He will stay away
      until the return of his mistress and her husband; and this it is which
      makes my poor daughter so unhappy. The Duke now neither sees nor hears
      anything but through Craon, his wife, and their creatures.
    </p>
    <p>
      I do not think that my daughter's attachment to her husband is so strong
      as it used to be, and yet I think she loves him very much; for every proof
      of fondness which he gives her rejoices her so much that she sends me word
      of it immediately. He can make her believe whatever he chooses; and,
      although she cannot doubt the Duke's passion for Madame de Craon, yet,
      when he says that he feels only friendship for her, that he is quite
      willing to give up seeing her, only that he fears by doing so he would
      dishonour her in the eyes of the public, and that there is nothing he is
      not ready to do for his wife's repose, she receives all he says literally,
      beseeches him to continue to see Madame de Craon as usual, and fancies
      that her husband is tenderly attached to her, while he is really laughing
      at her. If I were in my daughter's place, the Duke's falsehood would
      disgust me more than his infidelity.
    </p>
    <p>
      What appears to me the most singular in this intrigue is that the Duke is
      as fond of the husband as of the wife, and that he cannot live without
      him. This is very difficult to comprehend; but M. de Craon understands it
      well, and makes the most of it; he has already bought an estate for
      1,100,000 livres.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [The Marquis de Craon was Grand Chamberlain and Prime Minister of
     the Duc de Lorraine; who, moreover, procured for him from the
     Emperor of Germany the title of Prince.  This favourite married one
     of his daughters to the Prince de Ligin, of the House of Lorraine.]
</pre>
    <p>
      The burning of Lundville was not the effect of an accident; it is well
      known that some of the people stopped a woman's mouth, who was crying out
      "Fire!" A person was also heard to say, "It was not I who set it on fire."
      My daughter thinks that Old Maintenon would have them all burnt; for the
      person who cried out has been employed, it seems, in the house of the Duc
      de Noailles. For my part, I am rather disposed to believe it was the young
      mistress, Madame de Craon, who had a share in this matter; for Luneville
      is my daughter's residence and dowry.
    </p>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_SECT38" id="link2H_SECT38">
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    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XXXVIII.&mdash;THE DUC DU MAINE, LOUIS-AUGUSTUS.
    </h2>
    <p>
      The Duc du Maine flattered himself that he would marry my daughter. Madame
      de Maintenon and Madame de Montespan were arranging this project in
      presence of several merchants, to whom they paid no attention, but the
      latter, engaging in the conversation, said, "Ladies, do not think of any
      such thing, for it will cost you your lives if you bring about that
      marriage."
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame de Maintenon was dreadfully frightened at this, and immediately
      went to the King to persuade him to relinquish the affair.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duc du Maine possesses talent, which he displays particularly in his
      manner of relating anything. He knows very well who is his mother, but he
      has never had the least affection for any one but his gouvernante, against
      whom he never bore ill-will, although she displaced his mother and put
      herself in her room. My son will not believe that the Duc du Maine is the
      King's son. He has always been treacherous, and is feared and hated at
      Court as an arch tale-bearer. He has done many persons very ill offices
      with the King; and those in particular to whom he promised most were those
      who have had the greatest reason to complain of him. His little wife is
      worse even than he, for the husband is sometimes restrained by fear; but
      she mingles the pathetic occasionally in her comedies. It is certain that
      there does not exist a more false and wicked couple in the whole world
      than they are.
    </p>
    <p>
      I can readily believe that the Comte de Toulouse is the King's son; but I
      have always thought that the Duc du Maine is the son of Terme, who was a
      false knave, and the greatest tale-bearer in the Court.
    </p>
    <p>
      That old Maintenon had persuaded the King that the Duc du Maine was full
      of piety and virtue. When he reported evil tales of any persons, she
      pretended that it was for their good, and to induce the King to correct
      them. The King was, therefore, induced to fancy everything he did
      admirable, and to take him for a saint. The confessor, Le Pere Letellier,
      contributed to keep up this good opinion in order to pay court to the old
      woman; and the late Chancellor, M. Voisin, by her orders continued to aid
      the King's delusion.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duc du Maine fancied that, since he had succeeded in getting himself
      declared a Prince of the blood, he should not find it difficult on that
      account to attain the royal dignity, and that he could easily arrange
      everything with respect to my son and the other Princes of the blood. For
      this reason he and the old woman industriously circulated the report that
      my son had poisoned the Dauphine and the Duc de Berri. The Duc du Maine
      was instigated by Madame de Montespan and Madame de Maintenon to report
      things secretly to the King; at first for the purpose of making him bark
      like a cur at all whom they disliked, and afterwards for the King's
      diversion, and to make themselves beloved by him.
    </p>
    <p>
      These bastards are of so bad a disposition that God knows who was their
      father.
    </p>
    <p>
      Yesterday the Parliament presented its remonstrance to my son. It is not
      difficult to guess whence this affair proceeds. They were closeted for
      four hours together with the Duc and Duchesse du Maine, who had the
      Councillors brought thither in their coach, and attended by their own
      livery servants (20th June, 1718).
    </p>
    <p>
      I believe that my son is only, restrained from acting rigorously against
      the Duc du Maine because he fears the tears and anger of his wife; and, in
      the second place, he, has an affection for his other brother-in-law, the
      Comte de Toulouse.
    </p>
    <p>
      That old woman must surely think herself immortal, for she still hopes to
      reign, though at the age of eighty-three years. The Duc du Maine's affair
      is a severe blow for her. She is, nevertheless, not without hope, and it
      is said not excessively grieved. This fills me with anxiety, for I know
      too well how expert the wicked old hussy is in the use of poison.
    </p>
    <p>
      The first President of Mesmes ought to be friendly towards the Duc du
      Maine, to whom he is indebted for the office he holds. The Duke keeps all
      his places; as to that of Grand Master of Artillery, they could not take
      it away unless they had proceeded to extremities with him.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duke became so devout in his prison, and during Passion week he fasted
      so rigorously, that he fell sick in consequence. He says that he is
      innocent and that he has gained heaven by the purity of his conduct; this
      renders him gay and contented. He is not, besides, of a sorrowful temper,
      but, on the contrary, is fond of jests and merry tales. He does not speak
      ill of persons publicly; it was only to the King he used to denounce them.
    </p>
    <p>
      Yesterday my son was requested to permit the Duc du Maine to be reconciled
      with his wife. His answer was, "They might have been reconciled without
      speaking to me about it, for whether they become friends again or not, I
      know what to think of them."
    </p>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_SECT39" id="link2H_SECT39">
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    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XXXIX.&mdash;THE DUCHESSE DU MAINE, LOUISE-BENOITE, DAUGHTER OF
      HENRI-JULES DE CONDE.
    </h2>
    <p>
      <a name="image-0008" id="image-0008">
      <!-- IMG --></a>
    </p>
    <div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
      <img src="images/p314.jpg" alt="Duchesse Du Maine " width="100%" /><br />
    </div>
    <!-- IMAGE END -->
    <p>
      Madame du Maine is not taller than a child ten years old, and is not well
      made. To appear tolerably well, it is necessary for her to keep her mouth
      shut; for when she opens it, she opens it very wide, and shows her
      irregular teeth. She is not very stout, uses a great quantity of paint,
      has fine eyes, a white skin, and fair hair. If she were well disposed, she
      might pass, but her wickedness is insupportable.
    </p>
    <p>
      She has good sense, is accomplished, and can talk agreeably on most
      subjects. This brings about her a host of learned men and wits. She
      flatters the discontented very adroitly, and says all ill things of my
      son. This is the secret by which she has made her party. Her husband is
      fond of her, and she in turn piques herself upon her love for him; but I
      should be sorry to swear to her sincerity. This at least is certain, that
      she rules the Duc du Maine absolutely. As he holds several offices, he can
      provide for a great number of persons, either in the regiment of Guards,
      of which he is General; or in the Artillery, of which he is Grand Master;
      or in the Carabineers, where he appoints all the officers; without
      reckoning his regiments, by which he attracts a great number of persons.
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame du Maine's present lover is the Cardinal de Polignac; but she has,
      besides, the first Minister and some young men. The Cardinal is accused of
      having assisted in the refutation of Fitz-Morris's letters, although he
      has had this very year (1718) a long interview with my son, and has sworn
      never to engage in anything against his interests, notwithstanding his
      attachment to the Duchesse du Maine.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Comte d'Albert, who was here last winter, took some pains to make
      himself agreeable to Madame du Maine, and succeeded so well as to make the
      Cardinal de Polignac very jealous. He followed them masked to a ball; but
      upon seeing the Duchess and the Count tete-a-tete, he could not contain
      his anger this betrayed him; and when the people learned that a Cardinal
      had been seen at a masked ball it caused them great diversion.
    </p>
    <p>
      Her being arrested threw Madame du Maine into such a transport of rage
      that she was near choking, and only recovered herself by slow degrees.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [The Marquis d'Ancenis, Captain of the Guards, who came early in the
     morning to arrest the Princess, had supped with her on the preceding
     evening, when he entered, the Duchess cried out to him, "Mon Dieu!
     what have I done to you, that you should wake me so early?"  The
     chief domestics of the household were taken to the Bastille or to
     Vincennes; the Prince of Dombes and the Comte d'Eu were carried to
     Eu.]
</pre>
    <p>
      She is now said to be quite calm, and, it is added, she plays at cards all
      day long. When the play is over, she grows angry again, and falls upon her
      husband, his children, or her servants, who do not know how to appease
      her. She is dreadfully violent, and, it is said, has often beaten her
      husband.
    </p>
    <p>
      All the time of her residence at Dijon she was playing the Orlando
      Furioso: sometimes she was not treated with the respect due to her rank;
      sometimes she complains of other things; she will not understand that she
      is a prisoner, and that she has deserved even a worse fate. She had
      flattered herself that when she should reach Chalons-sur-Saone she would
      enjoy more liberty, and have the whole city for her prison; but when she
      learnt that she was to be locked up in the citadel, as at Dijon, she would
      not set out. Far from repenting her treason, she fancies she has done
      something very praiseworthy.
    </p>
    <p>
      Melancholy as I am, my son has made me laugh by telling me what has been
      found in Madame du Maine's letters, seized at the Cardinal de Polignac's.
      In one of her letters, this very discreet and virtuous personage writes,
      "We are going into the country tomorrow; and I shall so arrange the
      apartments that your chamber shall be next to mine. Try to manage matters
      as well as you did the last time, and we shall be very happy."
    </p>
    <p>
      The Princess knows very well that her daughter has had an intrigue with
      the Cardinal, and has endeavoured to break it off. For this purpose she
      has convinced her by the Cardinal's own letters that he is unfaithful to
      her, and prefers a certain Montauban to her. This, however, has had no
      effect. The Duc du Maine has been informed of everything, and he writes to
      her sister, "I ought not to be put into prison, but into petticoats, for
      having suffered myself to be so led by the nose."
    </p>
    <p>
      He has resolved never to see his wife again, although he does not yet know
      of the Duchess's letter to the Cardinal, nor of the other measures she has
      taken for the purpose of decorating her husband's brows.
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame du Maine will eventually become really crazy, for she is dreadfully
      troubled with the vapours. Her mother has entreated my son to let her
      daughter be brought to her house at Anet, where she will be answerable for
      her conduct and suffer her to speak with no one.
    </p>
    <p>
      My son replied, "that if Madame du Maine had only conspired against his
      life, he would have pardoned her with all his heart; but that, as her
      offence had been committed against the State, he was obliged, in spite of
      himself, to keep her in prison."
    </p>
    <p>
      It is not true that the Duc du Maine has permission to hunt; he is only
      allowed to ride upon a hired horse round the citadel, to take the air, in
      the company of four persons.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Abbe de Maulevrier and Mademoiselle de Langeron persuaded the Princess
      that Madame du Maine was at the point of death, and was only desirous of
      seeing her dear mother before she expired, to receive her last
      benediction, as she should die innocent. The Princess immediately set out
      in great anxiety and with deep grief; but was strangely surprised, on
      arriving at her daughter's house, to see her come to meet her in very good
      health. Mademoiselle de Langeron said that the Duchess concealed her
      illness that she might not make her mother unhappy.
    </p>
    <p>
      After the confession which Madame du Maine thought proper to make, which
      she has confirmed by writing, my son has set her at liberty, and has
      permitted her to come to Sceaux. She is terribly mortified at her letter
      being read in the open Council. As she has declared in her confession that
      she had done everything without her husband's knowledge, although in his
      name, he, too, has been permitted to return to his estate of Chavigny,
      near Versailles.
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame du Maine had written to my son that, in the event of her having
      omitted anything in her declaration, he would only have to ask
      Mademoiselle de Launay about it. He sent in consequence for that lady, to
      ask her some questions. Mademoiselle de Launay replied: "I do not know
      whether her imprisonment may have turned my mistress's brain, but it has
      not had the same effect upon me; I neither know, nor will I say anything."
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame du Maine had gained over certain gentlemen in all the Provinces,
      and had tampered with them to induce them to revolt; but none of them
      would swallow the bait excepting in Brittany.
    </p>
    <p>
      She has not been at the theatre yet; meaning, by this, to intimate that
      she is still afflicted at lying under her husband's displeasure. It is
      said that she has written to him, but that he has returned her letter
      unopened.
    </p>
    <p>
      She came some days ago to see my son, and to request him not to oppose a
      reconciliation between herself and her husband. My son laughed and said,
      "I will not interfere in it; for have I not learned from Sganarelle that
      it is not wise to put one's finger between the bark and the tree?" The
      town says they will be reconciled. If this really should take place, I
      shall say as my father used: "Agree together, bad ones!"
    </p>
    <p>
      My son tells me that the little Duchess has again besought him to
      reconcile her with her husband. My son replied, "that it depended much
      more upon herself than upon him." I do not know whether she took this for
      a compliment, or what crotchet she got in her head, but she suddenly
      jumped up from the sofa, and clung about my son's neck, kissing him on
      both cheeks in spite of himself (18th June, 1720).
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duc du Maine is entirely reconciled to his dear moiety. I am not
      surprised, for I have been long expecting it.
    </p>
    <p>
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    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XL.&mdash;LOUVOIS
    </h2>
    <p>
      M. de Louvois was a person of a very wicked disposition; he hated his
      father and brother, and, as they were my very good friends, this minister
      made me feel his dislike of them. His hatred was also increased, because
      he knew that I was acquainted with his ill-treatment of my father, and
      that I had no reason in the world to like him. He feared that I should
      seek to take vengeance upon him, and for this reason he was always
      exciting the King against me. Upon this point alone did he agree with that
      old, Maintenon.
    </p>
    <p>
      I believe that Louvois had a share in the conspiracy by which Langhans and
      Winkler compassed my poor brother's death. When the King had taken the
      Palatinate, I required him to arrest the culprits; the King gave orders
      for it, and they were in fact seized, but afterwards liberated by a
      counter-order of Louvois. Heaven, however, took care of their punishment
      for the crime which they had committed upon my poor brother; for Langhans
      died in the most abject wretchedness, and Winkler went mad and beat his
      own brains out.
    </p>
    <p>
      There is no doubt that the King spoke very harshly to Louvois, but
      certainly he did not treat him as has been pretended, for the King was
      incapable of such an action. Louvois was a brute and an insolent person;
      but he served the King faithfully, and much better than any other person.
      He did not, however, forget his own interest, and played his cards very
      well. He was horribly depraved, and by his impoliteness and the grossness
      of his replies made himself universally hated. He might, perhaps, believe
      in the Devil; but he did not believe in God. He had faith in all manner of
      predictions, but he did not scruple to burn, poison, lie and cheat.
    </p>
    <p>
      If he did not love me very well, I was at least even with him; and, for
      the latter part of his time, he conducted himself somewhat better. I was
      one of the last persons to whom he spoke, and I was even shocked when it
      was announced that the man with whom I had been conversing a quarter of an
      hour before, and who did not look ill, was no more.
    </p>
    <p>
      They have not yet learnt, although I have resided so long in France, to
      respect my seal. M. de Louvois used to have all my letters opened and
      read; and M. Corey, following his noble example, has not been more
      courteous to me. Formerly they used to open them for the purpose of
      finding something to my prejudice, and now (1718) they open them through
      mere habit.
    </p>
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    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XLI.&mdash;LOUIS XV.
    </h2>
    <p>
      It is impossible for any child to be more agreeable than our young King;
      he has large, dark eyes and long, crisp eyelashes; a good complexion, a
      charming little mouth, long and thick dark-brown hair, little red cheeks,
      a stout and well-formed body, and very pretty hands and feet; his gait is
      noble and lofty, and he puts on his hat exactly like the late King. The
      shape of his face is neither too long nor too short; but the worst thing,
      and which he inherits from his mother, is, that he changes colour very
      frequently. Sometimes he looks ill, but in half an hour his colour will
      have returned. His manners are easy, and it may be said, without flattery,
      that he dances very well. He is quick and clever in all that he attempts;
      he has already (1720) begun to shoot at pheasants and partridges, and has
      a great passion for shooting.
    </p>
    <p>
      He is as like his mother as one drop of water is to another; he has sense
      enough, and all that he seems to want is a little more affability. He is
      terribly haughty, and already knows what respect is. His look is what may
      be called agreeable, but his air is milder than his character, for his
      little head is rather an obstinate and wilful one.
    </p>
    <p>
      The young King was full of grief when Madame de Ventadour quitted him. She
      said to him, "Sire, I shall come back this evening; mind that you behave
      very well during my absence."
    </p>
    <p>
      "My dear mamma," replied he, "if you leave me I cannot behave well."
    </p>
    <p>
      He does not care at all for any of the other women.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Marechal de Villeroi teases the young King sometimes about not
      speaking to me enough, and sometimes about not walking with me. This
      afflicts the poor child and makes him cry. His figure is neat, but he will
      speak only to persons he is accustomed to.
    </p>
    <p>
      On the 12th August (1717), the young King fell out of his bed in the
      morning; a valet de chambre, who saw him falling, threw himself adroitly
      on the ground, so that the child might tumble upon him and not hurt
      himself; the little rogue thrust himself under the bed and would not
      speak, that he might frighten his attendants.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King's brother died of the small-pox in consequence of being
      injudiciously blooded; this one, who is younger than his brother, was also
      attacked, but the femme de chambre concealed it, kept him warm, and
      continued to give him Alicant wine, by which means they preserved his
      life.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King has invented an order which he bestows: upon the boys with whom
      he plays. It is a blue and white ribbon, to which is suspended an
      enamelled oval plate, representing a star and the tent or pavilion in
      which he plays on the terrace (1717).
    </p>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_SECT42" id="link2H_SECT42">
      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      SECTION XLII.&mdash;ANECDOTES AND HISTORICAL PARTICULARS RELATING TO
      VARIOUS PERSONS.
    </h2>
    <p>
      Some horrible books had been written against Cardinal Mazarin, with which
      he pretended to be very much enraged, and had all the copies bought up to
      be burnt. When he had collected them all, he caused them to be sold in
      secret, and as if it were unknown to him, by which contrivance he gained
      10,000 crowns. He used to laugh and say, "The French are delightful
      people; I let them sing and laugh, and they let me do what I will."
    </p>
    <p>
      In Flanders it is the custom for the monks to assist at all fires. It
      appeared to me a very whimsical spectacle to see monks of all colours,
      white, black and brown, running hither and thither with their frocks
      tucked up and carrying pails.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Chevalier de Saint George is one of the best men in the world, and
      complaisance itself. He one day said to Lord Douglas, "What should I do to
      gain the good-will of my countrymen?" Douglas replied, "Only embark hence
      with twelve Jesuits, and as soon as you land in England hang every one of
      them publicly; you can do nothing so likely to recommend you to the
      English people."
    </p>
    <p>
      It is said that at one of the masked balls at the opera, a mask entered
      the box in which were the Marechals de Villars and d'Estrees. He said to
      the former, "Why do you not go below and dance?" The Marshal replied, "If
      I were younger I could, but not crippled as you see I am."&mdash;"Oh, go
      down," rejoined the mask, "and the Marechal d'Estrees too; you will cut so
      brilliant a figure, having both of you such large horns." At the same time
      he put up his fingers in the shape of horns. The Marechal d'Estrees only
      laughed, but the other was in a great rage and said, "You are a most
      insolent mask, and I do not know what will restrain me from giving you a
      good beating."&mdash;"As to a good beating;" replied the mask, "I can do a
      trifle in that way myself when necessary; and as for the insolence of
      which you accuse me, it is sufficient for me to say that I am masked." He
      went away as he said this, and was not seen again.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King of Denmark has the look of a simpleton; he made love to my
      daughter while he was here. When they were dancing he used to squeeze her
      hand, and turn up his eyes languishingly. He would begin his minuet in one
      corner of the hall and finish it in another. He stopped once in the middle
      of the hall and did not know what to do next. I was quite uneasy at seeing
      him, so I got up and, taking his hand, led him away, or the good gentleman
      might have strayed there until this time. He has no notion of what is
      becoming or otherwise.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Cardinal de Noailles is unquestionably a virtuous man; it would be a
      very good thing if all the others were like him. We have here four of
      them, and each is of a different character. Three of them resemble each
      other in a certain particular&mdash;they are as false as counterfeit coin;
      in every other respect they are directly opposite. The Cardinal de
      Polignac is well made, sensible, and insinuating, and his voice is very
      agreeable; but he meddles too much with politics, and is too much occupied
      with seeking favour. The Cardinal de Rohan has a handsome face, as his
      mother had, but his figure is despicable. He is as vain as a peacock, and
      fancies that there is not his equal in the whole world. He is a tricking
      intriguer, the slave of the Jesuits, and fancies he rules everything,
      while in fact he rules nothing. The Cardinal de Bissi is as ugly and
      clumsy as a peasant, proud, false and wicked, and yet a most fulsome
      flatterer; his falsehood may be seen in his very eyes; his talent he turns
      to mischievous purposes. In short, he has all the exterior of a Tartuffe.
      These Cardinals could, if they chose, sell the Cardinal de Noailles in a
      sack, for they are all much more cunning than he is.
    </p>
    <p>
      With respect to the pregnancy of the Queen of England, the consort of
      James II., whom we saw at Saint-Germain, it is well known that her
      daughter-in-law maintains that she was not with child; but it seems to me
      that the Queen might easily have taken measures to prove the contrary. I
      spoke about it to Her Majesty myself. She replied "that she had begged the
      Princess Anne to satisfy herself by the evidence of her own senses, and to
      feel the motion of the child;" but the latter refused, and the Queen added
      "that she never could have supposed that the persons who had been in the
      habit of seeing her daily during her pregnancy could doubt the fact of her
      having been delivered."
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [On the dethronement of James II., the party of William, Prince of
     Orange, asserted that the Prince of Orange was a supposititious
     child, and accused James of having spirited away the persona who
     could have proved the birth of the Queen's child, and of having made
     the midwife leave the kingdom precipitately, she being the only
     person who had actually seen the child born.]
</pre>
    <p>
      A song has been made upon Lord Bolingbroke on the subject of his passion
      for a young girl who escaped from her convent. Some persons say that the
      girl was a professed nun. She ran after the Duke Regent a long time, but
      could not accomplish her intention.
    </p>
    <p>
      Lady Gordon, the grandaunt of Lord Huntley, was my dame d'atour for a
      considerable period. She was a singular person, and always plunged into
      reveries. Once when she was in bed and going to seal a letter, she dropped
      the wax upon her own thigh and burnt herself dreadfully. At another time,
      when she was also in bed and engaged in play, she threw the dice upon the
      ground and spat in the bed. Once, too, she spat in the mouth of my first
      femme de chambre, who happened to be passing at the moment. I think if I
      had not interposed they would have come to blows, so angry was the femme
      de chambre. One evening when I wanted my head-dress to go to Court, she
      took off her gloves and threw them in my face, putting on my head-dress at
      the same time with great gravity. When she was speaking to a man she had a
      habit of playing with the buttons of his waistcoat. Saving one day some
      occasion to talk to the Chevalier Buveon, a Captain in the late Monsieur's
      Guard, and he being a very tall man, she could only reach his waistband,
      which she began to unbutton. The poor gentleman was quite horror-stricken,
      and started back, crying, "For Heaven's sake, madame, what are you going
      to do?" This accident caused a great laugh in the Salon of Saint Cloud.
    </p>
    <p>
      They say that Lord Peterborough, speaking of the two Kings of Spain, said,
      "What fools we are to cut each other's throats for two such apes."
    </p>
    <p>
      Monteleon has good reason to be fond of the Princesse des Ursins, for she
      made his fortune: he was an insignificant officer in the troop, but he had
      talents and attached himself to this lady, who made of him what he now is
      (1716).
    </p>
    <p>
      The Abbess of Maubuisson, Louise Hollandine, daughter of Frederic V.,
      Elector-Palatine of the days of Henri IV., had had so many illegitimate
      children, that she commonly swore by her body, which had borne fourteen
      children.
    </p>
    <p>
      Cardinal Mazarin could not bear to have unfortunate persons about him.
      When he was requested to take any one into his service, his first question
      was, "Is he lucky?"
    </p>
    <p>
      My son has never assisted the Pretender (Prince Edward Stuart), either
      publicly or privately; and if my Lord Stair had chosen to contract a more
      close alliance, as my son wished, he would have prevented the Pretender's
      staying in France and collecting adherents; but as that alliance was
      declined, he merely confined himself to the stipulations contained in the
      treaty of peace. He neither furnished the Pretender with arms nor money.
      The Pope and some others gave him money, but my son could not, for he was
      too much engaged in paying off the late King's debts, and he would not on
      account of that treaty. There can be no doubt that an attempt has been
      made to embroil my son with the King of England; for, at the same time
      that they were making the King believe my son was sustaining the
      Pretender's cause, they told my son that Lord Stair had interviews with M.
      Pentenriedez, the Emperor's Envoy, as well as with the Sicilian
      Ambassador, the object of which was to make a league with those powers to
      drive out the King of Spain and to set up the King of France in his place,
      at the same time that Sicily should be given up to the Emperor&mdash;in
      short, to excite all Europe against France. My son said himself, that,
      since he was to confine himself to the articles of the treaty of peace, he
      did not think he had any right to prevent the Pretender's passage through
      his kingdom; and as the army had been reduced, he could not hinder the
      disbanded soldiers from taking service wherever they chose. My son had no
      intention whatever to break with England, although he has been told that
      there was a majority of two voices only in that nation against declaring
      it at war with France. He thinks Lord Stair is not his friend, and that he
      has not faithfully reported to his monarch the state of things here, but
      would rather be pleased to kindle the flames of a war. If that Minister
      had honestly explained to the King my son's intentions, the King would not
      have refused to agree with them.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is said here that the present Queen of Spain (1716), although she is
      more beloved by her husband than was the last, has less influence over
      him. The Abbe Alberoni has them both in his power, and governs them like
      two children.
    </p>
    <p>
      The English gentlemen and ladies who are here tell horrible stories of
      Queen Anne. They say she gets quite drunk, and that besides but that she
      is inconstant in her affections, and changes often. Lady Sandwich has not
      told this to me, but she has to my son. I have seen her but seldom, on
      account of the repugnance I felt at learning she had confessed she had
      been present at such orgies.
    </p>
    <p>
      I do not know whether it is true that Louvois was poisoned by that old
      Maintenon, but it is quite certain that he was poisoned, as well as his
      physician who committed the crime, and who said when he was dying, "I die
      by poison, but I deserve it, for having poisoned my master, M. de Louvois;
      and I did this in the hope of becoming the King's physician, as Madame de
      Maintenon had promised me." I ought to add that some persons pretend to
      think this story of Doctor Seron is a mere invention. Old Piety
      (Maintenon) did not commit this crime without an object; but if she really
      did poison Louvois, it was because he had opposed her designs and
      endeavoured to undeceive the King. Louvois, the better to gain his object,
      had advised the King not to take her with him to the army. The King was
      weak enough to repeat this to her, and this it was that excited her
      against Louvois. That the latter was a very bad man, who feared neither
      heaven nor hell, no man can deny; but it must be confessed that he served
      his King faithfully.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duke de Noailles' grandfather was one of the ugliest men in the world.
      He had one glass eye, and his nose was like an owl's, his mouth large, his
      teeth ugly and decayed, his face and head very small, his body long and
      bent, and he was bitter and ill-tempered. His name was Gluinel. Madame de
      Cornuel one day was reading his grandson's genealogy, and, when she came
      to his name, exclaimed, "I always suspected, when I saw the Duc de
      Noailles, that he came out of the Book of the Lamentations of Jeremiah!"
    </p>
    <p>
      When James II. took refuge in France from England, Madame de Cornuel went
      to Saint-Germain to see him. Some time afterwards, she was told of the
      pains our King was taking to procure his restoration to the throne. Madame
      de Cornuel shook her head, and said, "I have seen this King James; our
      monarch's efforts are all in vain; he is good for nothing but to make poor
      man's sauce. (La sauce au pauvre homme.)"
    </p>
    <p>
      She went to Versailles to see the Court when M. de Torcy and M. de
      Seignelay, both very young, had just been appointed Ministers. She saw
      them, as well as Madame de Maintenon, who had then grown old. When she
      returned to Paris, some one asked her what remarkable things she had seen.
      "I have seen," she said, "what I never expected to see there; I have seen
      love in its tomb and the Ministry in its cradle."
    </p>
    <p>
      The elder Margrave of Anspach was smitten with Mademoiselle d'Armagnac,
      but he would not marry her, and said afterwards that he had never intended
      to do so, because the familiarities which had passed between her and the
      Marquis de Villequier (1716) had disgusted him. The lady's mother would
      have liked nothing better than to surprise the Margrave with her daughter
      in some critical situation: for this purpose he had sufficient
      opportunities given him, but he was prudent, and conducted himself with so
      much modesty, that he avoided the snare. To tell the truth, I had given
      him a hint on the subject, for I was too well acquainted with the mother,
      who is a very bad woman.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Cardinal de Richelieu, notwithstanding his wit, had often fits of
      distraction. Sometimes he would fancy himself a horse, and run jumping
      about a billiard-table, neighing and snorting; this would last an hour, at
      the end of which his people would put him to bed and cover him up closely
      to induce perspiration; when he awoke the fit had passed and did not
      appear again.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Archbishop of Paris reprimanded the Bishop of Gap on the bad
      reputation which he had acquired in consequence of his intercourse with
      women. "Ah, Monseigneur," replied the Bishop of Gap, "if you knew what you
      talk of, you would not be astonished. I lived the first forty years of my
      life without experiencing it; I don't know what induced me to venture on
      it, but, having done so, it is impossible to refrain. Only try it for
      once, Monseigneur, and you will perceive the truth of what I tell you."
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [This Bishop, whose name was Herve, had lived in prudence and
     regularity up to the age of fifty, when he began, on a sudden, to
     lead a very debauched life.  They compelled him to give up his
     Bishopric, which he did on condition of being allowed to stay at
     Paris as much as he chose.  He continued to live in perpetual
     pleasure, but towards the close of his career he repented of his
     sins and engaged with the Capuchin missionaries.]
</pre>
    <p>
      This Bishop is now living in the village of Boulogne, near Paris: he is a
      little priest, very ugly, with a large head and fiery red face.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our late King said, "I am, I confess, somewhat piqued to see that, with
      all the authority belonging to my station in this country, I have
      exclaimed so long against high head-dresses, while no one had the
      complaisance to lower them for me in the slightest degree. But now, when a
      mere strange English wench arrives with a little low head-dress, all the
      Princesses think fit to go at once from one extremity to another."
    </p>
    <p>
      A Frenchman who had taken refuge in Holland informed me by letter of what
      was passing with respect to the Prince of Orange. Thinking that I should
      do the King a service by communicating to him these news, I hastened to
      him, and he thanked me for them. In the evening, however, he said to me,
      smiling, "My Ministers will have it that you have been misinformed, and
      that your correspondent has not written you one word of truth." I replied,
      "Time will show which is better informed, your Majesty's Ministers or my
      correspondent. For my own part, Sire, my intention at least was good."
    </p>
    <p>
      Some time afterwards, when the report of the approaching accession of
      William to the throne of England became public, M. de Torcy came to me to
      beg I would acquaint him with my news. I replied, "I receive none now; you
      told the King that what I formerly had was false, and upon this I desired
      my correspondents to send me no more, for I do not love to spread false
      reports." He laughed, as he always did, and said, "Your news have turned
      out to be quite correct." I replied, "A great and able Minister ought
      surely to have news more correct than I can obtain; and I have been angry
      with myself for having formerly acquainted the King with the reports which
      had reached me. I ought to have recollected that his clever Ministers are
      acquainted with everything." The King therefore said to me, "You are
      making game of my Ministers."&mdash;"Sire," I replied, "I am only giving
      them back their own."
    </p>
    <p>
      M. de Louvois was the only person who was well served by his spies;
      indeed, he never spared his money. All the Frenchmen who went into Germany
      or Holland as dancing or fencing-masters, esquires, etc., were paid by him
      to give him information of whatever passed in the several Courts. After
      his death this system was discontinued, and thus it is that the present
      Ministers are so ignorant of the affairs of other nations.
    </p>
    <p>
      Lauzun says the drollest things, and takes the most amusing, roundabout
      way of intimating whatever he does not care to say openly. For example,
      when he wished the King to understand that the Count de Marsan, brother of
      M. Legrand, had attached himself to M. Chamillard, the then Minister, he
      took the following means: "Sire," said he, with an air of the utmost
      simplicity, as if he had not the least notion of malice, "I wished to
      change my wigmaker, and employ the one who is now the most in fashion; but
      I could not find him, for M. de Marsan has kept him shut up in his room
      for several days past, making wigs for his household, and for M. de
      Chamillard's friends."
    </p>
    <p>
      The adventures of Prince Emmanuel of Portugal are a perfect romance. His
      brother, the King, was desirous, it is said, at first, to have made a
      priest and a Bishop of him; to this, however, he had an insuperable
      objection, for he was in love. The King sent for him, and asked him if it
      was true that he had really resolved not to enter the Church. On the
      Prince's replying in the affirmative, the King, his brother, struck him.
      The Prince said, "You are my King and my brother, and therefore I cannot
      revenge myself as I ought upon you; but you have put an insult upon me
      which I cannot endure, and you shall never again see me in the whole
      course of your life." He is said to have set out on that very night. His
      brother wrote to him, commanding his return from Paris to Holland; as he
      made no reply to this command, his Governor and the Ambassador had no
      doubt that it was his intention to obey it. In the course of last week he
      expressed a desire to see Versailles and Marly. The Ambassador made
      preparations for this excursion, and together with his wife accompanied
      the Prince, whose Governor and one of his gentlemen were of the party.
      Upon their return from Versailles, when they reached the courtyard, the
      Prince called out to stop, and asked if there were any chaises ready:
    </p>
    <p>
      "Yes, Monseigneur," replied a voice, "there are four."&mdash;"That will be
      sufficient," replied the Prince. Then addressing the Ambassador, he
      expressed his warmest thanks for the friendly attention he had shown him,
      and assured him that he desired nothing so much as an opportunity to
      testify his gratitude. "I am now going to set out," he added, "for Vienna;
      the Emperor is my cousin; I have no doubt he will receive me, and I shall
      learn in his army to become a soldier in the campaign against the Turks."
      He then thanked the Governor for the pains he had bestowed upon his
      education; and promised that, if any good fortune should befall him, his
      Governor should share it with him. He also said something complimentary to
      his gentleman. He then alighted, called for the post-chaises, and took his
      seat in one of them; his favourite, a young man of little experience, but,
      as it is said, of considerable talent, placed himself in another, and his
      two valets de chambre into the third and fourth. That nothing may be
      wanting to the romantic turn of his adventures, it is said, besides, that
      Madame de Riveira was the object of his affection in Portugal before she
      was married; that he even wished to make her his wife, but that his
      brother would not permit it. A short time before his departure, the
      husband, who is a very jealous man, found him at his wife's feet; and this
      hastened the Prince's departure.
    </p>
    <p>
      Henri IV. had been one day told of the infidelity of one of his
      mistresses. Believing that the King had no intention of visiting her, she
      made an assignation with the Duc de Bellegarde in her own apartment. The
      King, having caused the time of his rival's coming to be watched, when he
      was informed of his being there, went to his mistress's room. He found her
      in bed, and she complained of a violent headache. The King said he was
      very hungry, and wanted some supper; she replied that she had not thought
      about supper, and believed she had only a couple of partridges. Henri IV.
      desired they should be served up, and said he would eat them with her. The
      supper which she had prepared for Bellegarde, and which consisted of much
      more than two partridges, was then served up; the King, taking up a small
      loaf, split it open, and, sticking a whole partridge into it, threw it
      under the bed. "Sire," cried the lady, terrified to death, "what are you
      doing?"&mdash;"Madame," replied the merry monarch, "everybody must live."
      He then took his departure, content with having frightened the lovers.
    </p>
    <p>
      I have again seen M. La Mothe le Vayer; who, with all his sense, dresses
      himself like a madman. He wears furred boots, and a cap which he never
      takes off, lined with the same material, a large band, and a black velvet
      coat.
    </p>
    <p>
      We have had few Queens in France who have been really happy. Marie de
      Medicis died in exile. The mother of the King and of the late Monsieur was
      unhappy as long as her husband was alive. Our Queen Marie-Therese said
      upon her death-bed, "that from the time of her becoming Queen she had not
      had a day of real happiness."
    </p>
    <p>
      Lauzun sometimes affects the simpleton that he may say disagreeable things
      with impunity, for he is very malicious. In order to hint to Marechal de
      Tesse that he did wrong in being so familiar with the common people, he
      called out to him one night in the Salon at Marly, "Marshal, pray give me
      a pinch of snuff; but let it be good&mdash;that, for example, which I saw
      you taking this morning with Daigremont the chairman."
    </p>
    <p>
      In the time of Henri IV. an Elector-Palatine came to France; the King's
      household was sent to meet him. All his expenses were paid, as well as
      those of his suite; and when he arrived at the Court he entered between
      the Dauphin and Monsieur and dined with the King. I learned these
      particulars from the late Monsieur. The King, under the pretence of going
      to the chase, went about a league from Paris, and, meeting the Elector,
      conducted him in his carriage. At Paris he was always attended by the
      King's servants. This treatment is somewhat different from that which, in
      my time, was bestowed upon Maximilian Maria, the Elector of Bavaria. This
      Elector often enraged me with the foolish things that he did. For example,
      he went to play and to dine with M. d'Antin, and never evinced the least
      desire to dine with his own nephews. A sovereign, whether he be Elector or
      not, might with propriety dine either at the Dauphin's table or mine; and,
      if the Elector had chosen, he might have come to us; but he was contented
      to dine with M. d'Antin or M. de Torcy, and some ladies of the King's
      suite. I am angry to this day when I think of it. The King used often to
      laugh at my anger on this subject; and, whenever the Elector committed
      some new absurdity, he used to call to me in the cabinet and ask me,
      "Well, Madame, what have you to say to that?" I would reply, "All that the
      Elector does is alike ridiculous." This made the King laugh heartily. The
      Elector had a Marshal, the Count d'Arco, the brother of that person who
      had married in so singular a manner the Prince's mistress, Popel, which
      marriage had been contracted solely upon his promise never to be alone
      with his wife. The Marshal, who was as honest as his brother was
      accommodating, was terribly annoyed at his master's conduct; he came at
      first to me to impart to me his chagrin whenever the Elector committed
      some folly; and when he behaved better he used also to tell me of it. I
      rather think he must have been forbidden to visit me, for latterly I never
      saw him. None of the Elector's suite have visited me, and I presume they
      have been prevented. This Prince's amorous intrigues have been by no means
      agreeable to the King. The Elector was so fond of grisettes that, when the
      King was giving names to each of the roads through the wood, he was
      exceedingly anxious that one of them should be called L'Allee des
      Grisettes; but the King would not consent to it. The Elector has
      perpetuated his race in the villages; and two country girls have been
      pointed out to me who were pregnant by him at his departure.
    </p>
    <p>
      His marriage with a Polish Princess is a striking proof that a man cannot
      avoid his fate. This was not a suitable match for him, and was managed
      almost without his knowledge, as I have been told. His Councillors, having
      been bought over, patched up the affair; and when the Elector only caused
      it to be submitted for their deliberation, it was already decided on.
    </p>
    <p>
      This Elector's brother must have been made a Bishop of Cologne and Munster
      without the production of proof of his nobility being demanded; for it is
      well known that the King Sobieski was a Polish nobleman, who married the
      daughter of Darquin, Captain of our late Monsieur's Swiss Guards. Great
      suspicions are entertained respecting the children of the Bavaria family,
      that is, the Elector and his brothers, who are thought to have been the
      progeny of an Italian doctor named Simoni. It was said at Court that the
      doctor had only given the Elector and his wife a strong cordial, the
      effect of which had been to increase their family; but they are all most
      suspiciously like the doctor.
    </p>
    <p>
      I have heard it said that in England the people used to take my late
      uncle, Rupert, for a sorcerer, and his large black dog for the Devil; for
      this reason, when he joined the army and attacked the enemy, whole
      regiments fled before him.
    </p>
    <p>
      A knight of the Palatinate, who had served many years in India, told me at
      Court in that country the first Minister and the keeper of the seals hated
      each other mortally. The latter having one day occasion for the seals,
      found they had been taken from the casket in which they were usually kept.
      He was of course greatly terrified, for his head depended upon their
      production. He went to one of his friends, and consulted with him what he
      should do. His friend asked him if he had any enemies at Court. "Yes,"
      replied the keeper of the seals, "the chief Minister is my mortal foe."&mdash;"So
      much the better," replied his friend; "go and set fire to your house
      directly; take out of it nothing but the casket in which the seals were
      kept, and take it directly to the chief Minister, telling him you know no
      one with whom you can more safely deposit it; then go home again and save
      whatever you can. When the fire shall be extinguished, you must go to the
      King, and request him to order the chief Minister to restore you the
      seals; and you must be sure to open the casket before the Prince. If the
      seals are there, all will be explained; if the Minister has not restored
      them, you must accuse him at once of having stolen them; and thus you will
      be sure to ruin your enemy and recover your seals." The keeper of the
      seals followed his friend's advice exactly, and the seals were found again
      in the casket.
    </p>
    <p>
      As soon as a royal child, which they call here un Enfant de France, is
      born, and has been swaddled, they put on him a grand cordon; but they do
      not create him a knight of the order until he has communicated; the
      ceremony is then performed in the ordinary manner.
    </p>
    <p>
      The ladies of chancellors here have the privilege of the tabouret when
      they come to the toilette; but in the afternoon they are obliged to stand.
      This practice began in the days of Marie de Medicis, when a chancellor's
      wife happened to be in great favour. As she had a lame foot and could not
      stand up, the Queen, who would have her come to visit her every morning,
      allowed her to sit down. From this time the custom of these ladies sitting
      in the morning has been continued.
    </p>
    <p>
      In the reign of Henri IV. the King's illegitimate children took precedence
      of the Princes of the House of Lorraine. On the day after the King's
      death, the Duc de Verneuil was about to go before the Duc de Guise, when
      the latter, taking him by the arm, said, "That might have been yesterday,
      but to-day matters are altered."
    </p>
    <p>
      Two young Duchesses, not being able to see their lovers, invented the
      following stratagem to accomplish their wishes. These two sisters had been
      educated in a convent some leagues distant from Paris. A nun of their
      acquaintance happening to die there, they pretended to be much afflicted
      at it, and requested permission to perform the last duties to her, and to
      be present at her funeral. They were believed to be sincere, and the
      permission they asked was readily granted them. In the funeral procession
      it was perceived that, besides the two ladies, there were two other
      persons whom no one knew. Upon being asked who they were, they replied
      they were poor priests in need of protection; and that, having learnt two
      Duchesses were to be present at the funeral, they had come to the convent
      for the purpose of imploring their good offices. When they were presented
      to them, the young ladies said they would interrogate them after the
      service in their chambers. The young priests waited upon them at the time
      appointed, and stayed there until the evening. The Abbess, who began to
      think their audience was too long, sent to beg the priests would retire.
      One of them seemed very melancholy, but the other laughed as if he would
      burst his sides. This was the Duc de Richelieu; the other was the
      Chevalier de Guemene, the younger son of the Duke of that name. The
      gentlemen themselves divulged the adventure.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King's illegitimate children, fearing that they should be treated in
      the same way as the Princes of the blood, have for some months past been
      engaged in drawing a strong party of the nobility to their side, and have
      presented a very unjust petition against the Dukes and Peers. My son has
      refused to receive this petition, and has interdicted them from holding
      assemblies, the object of which he knows would tend to revolt. They have,
      nevertheless, continued them at the instigations of the Duc du Maine and
      his wife, and have even carried their insolence so far as to address a
      memorial to my son and another to the Parliament, in which they assert
      that it is within the province of the nobility alone to decide between the
      Princes of the blood and the legitimated Princes. Thirty of them have
      signed this memorial, of whom my son has had six arrested; three of them
      have been sent to the Bastille, and the other three to Vincennes; they are
      MM. de Chatillon, de Rieux, de Beaufremont, de Polignac, de Clermont, and
      d'O. The last was the Governor of the Comte de Toulouse, and remains with
      him. Clermont's wife is one of the Duchesse de Berri's ladies. She is not
      the most discreet person in the world, and has been long in the habit of
      saying to any one who would listen to her, "Whatever may come of it, my
      husband and I are willing to risk our lives for the Comte de Toulouse." It
      is therefore evident that all this proceeds from the bastards. But I must
      expose still further the ingratitude of these people. Chatillon is a poor
      gentleman, whose father held a small employment under M. Gaston, one of
      those offices which confer the privilege of the entree to the
      antechambers, and the holders of which do not sit in the carriage with
      their masters. The two descendants, as they call themselves, of the house
      of Chatillon, insist that this Chatillon, who married an attorney's
      daughter, is descended from the illegitimate branches of that family. His
      son was a subaltern in the Body Guard. In the summer time, when the young
      officers went to bathe, they used to take young Chatillon with them to
      guard their clothes, and for this office they gave him a crown for his
      supper. Monsieur having taken this poor person into his service, gave him
      a cordon bleu, and furnished him with money to commence a suit which he
      subsequently gained against the House of Chatillon, and they were
      compelled to recognize him. He then made him a Captain in the Guards; gave
      him a considerable pension, which my son continued, and permitted him also
      to have apartments in the Palais Royal. In these very apartments did this
      ungrateful man hold those secret meetings, the end of which was proposed
      to be my son's ruin. Rieux's grandfather had neglected to uphold the
      honour to which he was entitled, of being called the King's cousin. My son
      restored him to this honour, gave his brother a place in the gendarmerie,
      and rendered him many other services. Chatillon tried particularly to
      excite the nobility against my son; and this is the recompense for all his
      kindness. My son's wife is gay and content, in the hope that all will go
      well with her brothers.
    </p>
    <p>
      That old Maintenon has continued pretty tranquil until the termination of
      the process relating to the legitimation of the bastards. No one has heard
      her utter a single expression on the subject. This makes me believe that
      she has some project in her head, but I cannot tell what it is.
    </p>
    <p>
      A monk, who was journeying a few days ago to Luzarche, met upon the road a
      stranger, who fell into conversation with him. He was an agreeable
      companion, and related various adventures very pleasantly. Having learned
      from the monk that he was charged with the rents of the convent, to which
      some estates in the neighbourhood of Luzarche belonged, the stranger told
      him that he belonged to that place, whither he was returning after a long
      journey; and then observing to the monk that the road they were pursuing
      was roundabout, he pointed out to him a nearer one through the forest.
      When they had reached the thickest part of the wood, the stranger
      alighted, and, seizing the bridle of the monk's horse, demanded his money.
      The monk replied that he thought he was travelling with an honest man, and
      that he was astonished at so singular a demand. The stranger replied that
      he had no time for trifling, and that the monk must either give up his
      money or his life. The monk replied, "I never carry money about me; but if
      you will let me alight and go to my servant, who carries my money, I will
      bring you 1,000 francs."
    </p>
    <p>
      The robber suffered the monk to alight, who went to his servant, and,
      taking from him the 1,000 francs which were in a purse, he at the same
      time furnished himself with a loaded pistol which he concealed in his
      sleeve. When he returned to the thief, he threw down the purse, and, as
      the robber stooped to pick it up, the monk fired and shot him dead; then,
      remounting his horse, he hastened to apply to the police, and related his
      adventure. A patrole was sent back with him to the wood, and, upon
      searching the robber, there were found in his pockets six whistles of
      different sizes; they blew the largest of the number, upon which ten other
      armed robbers soon afterwards appeared; they defended themselves, but
      eventually two of them were killed and the others taken.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Chevalier Schaub, who was employed in State affairs by Stanhope, the
      English Minister, brought with him a secretary, to whom the Prince of
      Wales had entrusted sixty guineas, to be paid to a M. d'Isten, who had
      made a purchase of some lace to that amount for the Princess of Wales; the
      brother of M. d'Isten, then living in London, had also given the same
      secretary 200 guineas, to be delivered to his brother at Paris. When the
      secretary arrived he enquired at the Ambassador's where M. d'Isten lived,
      and, having procured his address, he went to the house and asked for the
      German gentleman. A person appeared, who said, "I am he." The secretary
      suspecting nothing, gave him the Prince of Wales' letter and the sixty
      guineas. The fictitious d'Isten, perceiving that the secretary had a gold
      watch, and a purse containing fifty other guineas, detained him to supper;
      but no sooner had the secretary drank some wine than he was seized with an
      invincible desire to go to sleep. "My good friend," said his host, "your
      journey has fatigued you; you had better undress and lie down on my bed
      for a short time." The secretary, who could not keep his eyes open,
      consented; and no sooner had he lain down than he was asleep. Some time
      after, his servant came to look for him, and awoke him; the bottles were
      still standing before the bed, but the poor secretary's pockets were
      emptied, and the sharper who had personated M. d'Isten had disappeared
      with their valuable contents.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Princesse Maubuisson was astonishingly pleasant and amiable. I was
      always delighted to visit her, and never felt myself tired in her society.
      I soon found myself in much greater favour than any other of her nieces,
      because I could converse with her about almost everybody she had known in
      the whole course of her life, which the others could not. She used
      frequently to talk German with me, which she knew very well; and she told
      me all her adventures. I asked her how she could accustom herself to the
      monastic life. She laughed and said, "I never speak to the nuns but to
      give orders." She had a deaf nun with her in her own chamber, that she
      might not feel any desire to speak. She told me that she had always been
      fond of a country life, and that she still could fancy herself a country
      girl. "But," I asked her, "how do you like getting up and going to church
      in the middle of the night?" She replied that she did as the painters do,
      who increase the splendour of their light by the introduction of deep
      shadows. She had in general the faculty of giving to all things a turn
      which deprived them of their absurdity.
    </p>
    <p>
      I have often heard M. Bernstorff spoken of by a person who was formerly
      very agreeable to him; I mean the Duchess of Mecklenbourg, the Duc de
      Luxembourg's sister. She praised his talents very highly, and assured me
      that it was she who gave him to the Duke George William.
    </p>
    <p>
      The wife of the Marechal de Villars is running after the Comte de
      Toulouse. My son is also in her good graces, and is not a whit more
      discreet. Marechal de Villars came one day to see me; and, as he pretends
      to understand medals, he asked to see mine. Baudelot, who is a very honest
      and clever man, and in whose keeping they are, was desired to show them;
      he is not the most cautious man in the world, and is very little
      acquainted with what is going on at Court. He had written a dissertation
      upon one of my medals, in which he proved, against the opinion of other
      learned men, that the horned head which it displayed was that of Pan and
      not of Jupiter Ammon. Honest Baudelot, to display his erudition, said to
      the Marshal, "Ah, Monseigneur, this is one of the finest medals that
      Madame possesses: it is the triumph of Cornificius; he has, you see, all
      sorts of horns. He was like you, sir, a great general; he wears the horns
      of Juno and Faunus. Cornificius was, as you probably well know, sir, a
      very able general." Here I interrupted him. "Let us pass on," I said, "to
      the other medal; if you stop in this manner at each, you will not have
      time to show the whole."
    </p>
    <p>
      But he, full of his subject, returned to it. "Ah, Madame," he went on,
      "this is worthy of more attention than perhaps any other; Cornificius is,
      indeed, one of the most rare medals in the world. Look at it, Madame; I
      beg you to observe it narrowly; here, you see, is Juno crowned, and she is
      also crowning this great general." All that I could say to him was not
      sufficient to prevent Baudelot talking to the Marshal of horns.
      "Monseigneur," he said, "is well versed in all these matters, and I want
      him to see that I am right in insisting that these horns are those of
      Faunus, not those of Jupiter Ammon."
    </p>
    <p>
      All the people who were in the chamber, with difficulty refrained from
      bursting into a loud laugh. If the plan had been laid for the purpose, it
      could not have succeeded better. When the Marshal had gone, I, too,
      indulged myself by joining in the laugh. It was with great difficulty that
      I could make Baudelot understand he had done wrong.
    </p>
    <p>
      The same Baudelot, one day at a masked ball, had been saying a great many
      civil things to the Dowager Madame, who was there masked, and whom,
      therefore, he did not know. When he came and saw that it was Madame, he
      was terrified with affright: the Princess laughed beyond measure at it.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our Princes here have no particular costume. When they go to the
      Parliament they wear only a cloak, which, in my opinion, has a very vulgar
      appearance; and the more so, as they wear the 'collet' without a cravat.
      Those of the Royal Family have no privileges above the other Dukes,
      excepting in their seats and the right of crossing over the carpet, which
      is allowed to none but them. The President, when he addresses them, is
      uncovered, but keeps his hat on when he speaks to everybody else. This is
      the cause of those great disputes which the Princes of the blood have had
      with the bastards, as may be seen by their memorial. The Presidents of the
      Parliament wear flame-coloured robes trimmed with ermine at the neck and
      sleeves.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Comtesse de Soissons, Angelique Cunegonde, the daughter of
      Francois-Henri de Luxembourg, has, it must be confessed, a considerable
      share of virtue and of wit; but she has also her faults, like the rest of
      the world. It may be said of her that she is truly a poor Princess. Her
      husband, Louis-Henri, Chevalier de Soissons, was very ugly, having a very
      long hooked nose, and eyes extremely close to it. He was as yellow as
      saffron; his mouth was extremely small for a man, and full of bad teeth of
      a most villanous odour; his legs were ugly and clumsy; his knees and feet
      turned inwards, which made him look when he was walking like a parrot; and
      his manner of making a bow was bad. He was rather short than otherwise;
      but he had fine hair and a large quantity of it. He was rather
      good-looking when a child. I have seen portraits of him painted at that
      period. If the Comtesse de Soissons' son had resembled his mother, he
      would have been very well, for her features are good, and nothing could be
      better than her, eyes, her mouth, and the turn of her face; only her nose
      was too large and thick, and her skin was not fine enough.
    </p>
    <p>
      Whoever is like the Prince Eugene in person cannot be called a handsome
      man; he is shorter than his elder brother, but, with the exception of
      Prince Eugene, all the rest of them are good for nothing. The youngest,
      Prince Philippe, was a great madman, and died of the small-pox at Paris.
      He was of a very fair complexion, had an ungraceful manner, and always
      looked distracted. He had a nose like a hawk, a large mouth, thick lips,
      and hollow cheeks; in all respects I thought he was like his elder
      brother. The third brother, who was called the Chevalier de Savoie, died
      in consequence of a fall from his horse. The Prince Eugene was a younger
      brother: he had two sisters, who were equally ugly; one of them is dead,
      and the other is still living (1717) in a convent in Savoy. The elder was
      of a monstrous shape, but a mere dwarf. She led a very irregular life. She
      afterwards ran away with a rogue, the Abbe de la Bourlie, whom she obliged
      to marry her at Geneva; they used to beat each other. She is now dead.
    </p>
    <p>
      Prince Eugene was not in his younger days so ugly as he has become since;
      but he never was good-looking, nor had he any nobility in his manner. His
      eyes were pretty good, but his nose, and two large teeth which he
      displayed whenever he opened his mouth, completely spoilt his face. He was
      besides always very filthy, and his coarse hair was never dressed.
    </p>
    <p>
      This Prince is little addicted to women, and, during the whole time that
      he has been here, I never heard one mentioned who has pleased him, or whom
      he has distinguished or visited more than another.
    </p>
    <p>
      His mother took no care of him; she brought him up like a scullion, and
      liked better to stake her money at play than to expend it upon her
      youngest son. This is the ordinary practice of women in this country.
    </p>
    <p>
      They will not yet believe that the Persian Ambassador was an impostor;
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [This embassy was always equivocal, and even something more.  From
     all that can be understood of it, it would seem that a Minister of
     one of the Persian provinces, a sort of Intendant de Languedoc, as
     we might say, had commissioned this pretended Ambassador to manage
     for him some commercial affairs with certain merchants, and that for
     his own amusement the agent chose to represent the Persian
     Ambassador.  It is said, too, that Pontchartrain, under whose
     department this affair fell, would not expose the trick, that the
     King might be amused, and that he might recommend himself to His
     Majesty's favour by making him believe that the Sophy had sent him
     an Ambassador.&mdash;Notes to Dangeau's Journal.]
</pre>
    <p>
      it is quite certain that he was a clumsy fellow, although he had some
      sense. There was an air of magnificence about the way in which he gave
      audience. He prevailed upon a married woman, who was pregnant by him, to
      abjure Christianity. It is true she was not a very respectable person,
      being the illegitimate daughter of my son's chief almoner, the Abbe de
      Grancey, who always kept a little seraglio. In order to carry her away
      with him, the Ambassador had her fastened up in a box filled with holes,
      and then begged that no person might be allowed to touch it, being, as he
      said, filled with the sacred books written by Mahomet himself, which would
      be polluted by the contact of Christians. Upon this pretence the
      permission was given, and by these means the woman was carried off. I
      cannot believe the story which is told of this Ambassador having had
      10,000 louis d'or given him.
    </p>
    <p>
      I had the misfortune to displease the Margrave John Frederic of Anspach.
      He brought me a letter from my brother and his wife, both of whom begged I
      would assist him with my advice. I therefore thought that by counselling
      him as I should have counselled my own brother I should be rendering him
      the best service. When he arrived he was in deep mourning for his first
      wife, who had then not been dead three months. I asked him what he
      proposed to do in France? He replied "that he was on his way to England,
      but that before his departure he should wish to pay his respects to the
      King." I asked him if he had anything to solicit from the King or to
      arrange with him. He replied "he had not."&mdash;"Then," I said, "I would
      advise you, if you will permit me, to send the principal person of your
      suite to the King to make your compliments, to inform him that you are
      going to England, and that you would not have failed to wait upon him, but
      that, being in mourning for your wife, your respect for him prevented your
      appearing before him in so melancholy a garb."&mdash;"But," he rejoined,
      "I am very fond of dancing, and I wish to go to the ball; now I cannot go
      thither until I have first visited the King."&mdash;"For God's sake," I
      said, "do not go to the ball; it is not the custom here. You will be
      laughed at, and the more particularly so because the Marechal de Grammont,
      who presented you to the King some years ago, said that you could find
      nothing to praise in the whole of France, with the exception of a little
      goldfinch in the King's cabinet which whistled airs. I recommend you not
      to go to see the King, nor to be present at the ball." He was angry, and
      said "he saw very well that I discountenanced German Princes, and did not
      wish them to be presented to the King." I replied "that the advice I had
      given him sprang from the best intentions, and was such as I would have
      given to my own brother." He went away quite angry to Marechal
      Schomberg's, where he complained of my behaviour to him. The Marshal asked
      him what I had said, which he repeated word for word. The Marshal told him
      that I had advised him well, and that he was himself of my opinion.
      Nevertheless, the Margrave persisted on being presented to the King,
      whither he prevailed upon the Marshal to accompany him, and went the next
      day to the ball. He was extremely well dressed in half-mourning, with
      white lace over the black, fine blue ribands, black and white laces, and
      rheingraves, which look well upon persons of a good figure; in short, he
      was magnificently dressed, but improperly, for a widower in the first
      stage of his mourning. He would have seated himself within the King's
      circle, where none but the members of the Royal Family and the King's
      grandchildren are allowed to sit; the Princes of the blood even are not
      allowed to do so, and therefore foreign Princes can of course have no
      right. The Margrave then began to repent not having believed me, and early
      the next morning he set off.
    </p>
    <p>
      Prince Ragotzky is under great obligations to his wife, who saved his life
      and delivered him from prison. Some person was repeating things to her
      disadvantage, but he interrupted them by saying, "She saved my head from
      the axe, and this prevents my having any right to reprove too strictly
      whatever she may choose to do; for this reason I shall not thank any
      person who speaks to me upon the subject."
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [Louis XIV. gave to the Prince Ragotsky, who in France took the
     title of Comte de Saaross, 200,000 crowns upon the Maison de Ville,
     and a pension of 2,000 crowns per month besides.]
</pre>
    <p>
      Beatrice Eleanora, the Queen of James II., was always upon such good terms
      with Maintenon that it is impossible to believe our late King was ever
      fond of her. I have seen a book, entitled "L'ancien Ward protecteur du
      nouveau," in 12mo, in which is related a gallantry between the Queen and
      the Pere la Chaise. The confessor was then eighty years of age, and not
      unlike an ass; his ears were very long, his mouth very wide, his head very
      large, and his body very long. It was an ill-chosen joke. This libel was
      even less credible than what was stated about the King himself.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Monks of Saint Mihiel possess the original manuscripts of the Memoirs
      of Cardinal Retz. They have had them printed and are selling them at
      Nancy; but in this copy there are many omissions. A lady at Paris, Madame
      Caumartin, has a copy in which there is not a word deficient; but she
      obstinately refused to lend it that the others may be made complete.
    </p>
    <p>
      When an Ambassador would make his entry at Paris he has himself announced
      some days before by the officers whose duty it is to introduce
      Ambassadors, in order that the usual compliments may be paid him. To royal
      Ambassadors a chevalier d'honneur is sent, to those from Venice or Holland
      the first equerry, and when he is absent or unwell the chief Maitre
      d'Hotel, who is also sent to the Ambassador from Malta.
    </p>
    <p>
      The English ladies are said to be much given to running away with their
      lovers. I knew a Count von Konigsmark, whom a young English lady followed
      in the dress of a page. He had her with him at Chambord, and, as there was
      no room for her in the castle, he lodged her under a tent which he had put
      up in the forest. When we were at the chase one day he told me this
      adventure. As I had a great curiosity to see her, I rode towards the tent,
      and never in my life did I see anything prettier than this girl in the
      habit of a page. She had large and beautiful eyes, a charming little nose,
      and an elegant mouth and teeth. She smiled when she saw me, for she
      suspected that the Count had told me the whole story. Her hair was a
      beautiful chestnut colour, and hung about her neck in large curls. After
      their departure from Chambord, while they were at an inn upon their way to
      Italy, the innkeeper's wife ran to the Count, crying, "Sir, make haste
      upstairs, for your page is lying-in." She was delivered of a girl, and the
      mother and child were soon afterwards placed in a convent near Paris.
      While the Count lived he took great care of her, but he died in the Morea,
      and his pretended page did not long survive him; she displayed great piety
      in the hour of death. A friend of the Count's, and a nephew of Madame de
      Montespan, took care of the child, and after his death the King gave the
      little creature a pension. I believe she is still (1717) in the convent.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Abbe Perrault founded an annual funeral oration for the Prince de
      Conde in the Jesuits' Church, where his heart is deposited. I shall not
      upon this occasion call to mind his victories, his courage in war, or his
      timidity at Court; these are things well known throughout France.
    </p>
    <p>
      A gentleman of my acquaintance at Paris heard a learned Abbe, who was in
      the confidence of Descartes, say that the philosopher used often to laugh
      at his own system, and said, "I have cut them out some work: we shall see
      who will be fools enough to undertake it."
    </p>
    <p>
      That old Beauvais, the Queen-mother's first femme de chambre, was
      acquainted with the secret of her marriage, and this obliged the Queen to
      put up with whatever the confidante chose to do. From this circumstance
      has arisen that custom which gives femmes de chambre so much authority in
      our apartments. The Queen-mother, the widow of Louis XIII., not contented
      with loving Cardinal Mazarin, went the absurd length of marrying him. He
      was not a priest, and therefore was not prevented by his orders from
      contracting matrimony. He soon, however, got very tired of the poor Queen,
      and treated her dreadfully ill, which is the ordinary result in such
      marriages. But it is the vice of the times to contract clandestine
      marriages. The Queen-mother of England, the widow of Charles II., made
      such an one in marrying her chevalier d'honneur, who behaved very ill to
      her; while the poor Queen was in want of food and fuel, he had a good fire
      in his apartment, and was giving great dinners. He called himself Lord
      Germain, Earl of St. Albans; he never addressed a kind expression to the
      Queen. As to the Queen-mother's marriage, all the circumstances relating
      to it are now well enough known. The secret passage by which he went
      nightly to the Palais Royal may still be seen; when she used to visit him,
      he was in the habit of saying, "what does this woman want with me?" He was
      in love with a lady of the Queen's suite, whom I knew very well: she had
      apartments in the Palais Royal, and was called Madame de Bregie. As she
      was very pretty, she excited a good deal of passion; but she was a very
      honest lady, who served the Queen with great fidelity, and was the cause
      of the Cardinal's living upon better terms with the Queen than before. She
      had very good sense. Monsieur loved her for her fidelity to the Queen his
      mother. She has been dead now four-and-twenty years (1717).
    </p>
    <p>
      The Princesse de Deux Ponts has recently furnished another instance of the
      misfortune which usually attends the secret marriages of ladies of high
      birth. She married her equerry, was very ill-treated by him, and led a
      very miserable life; but she deserved all she met with and I foresaw it.
      She was with me at the Opera once, and insisted at all events that her
      equerry should sit behind her. "For God's sake," I said to her, "be quiet,
      and give yourself no trouble about this Gerstorf; you do not know the
      manners of this country; when folks perceive you are so anxious about that
      man, they will think you are in love with him." I did not know then how
      near this was to the truth. She replied, "Do people, then, in this country
      take no care of their servants?"&mdash;"Oh, yes," I said, "they request
      some of their friends to carry them to the Opera, but they do not go with
      them."
    </p>
    <p>
      M. Pentenrieder is a perfect gentleman, extremely well-bred, totally
      divested of the vile Austrian manners, and speaks good German instead of
      the jargon of Austria. While he was staying here, the Fair of
      Saint-Germain commenced; a giant, who came to Paris for the purpose of
      exhibiting himself, having accidentally met M. Pentenrieder, said as soon
      as he saw him, "It's all over with me: I shall not go into the fair; for
      who will give money to see me while this man shows himself for nothing?"
      and he really went away. M. Pentenrieder pleased everybody. Count
      Zinzendorf, who succeeded him, did not resemble him at all, but was a
      perfect Austrian in his manners and his language.
    </p>
    <p>
      I have heard that it was from the excitement of insulted honour that
      Ravaillac was induced to murder Henri IV.; for that the King had seduced
      his sister, and had abandoned her during her pregnancy: the brother then
      swore he would be avenged on the King. Some persons even accuse the Duc
      d'Epernon, who was seated in the coach in such a manner that he might have
      warded off the blow, but he is said to have drawn back and given the
      assassin an opportunity to strike.
    </p>
    <p>
      When I first came to France I found in it such an assemblage of talent as
      occurs but in few ages. There was Lulli in music; Beauchamp in ballets;
      Corneille and Racine in tragedy; Moliere in comedy; La Chamelle and La
      Beauval, actresses; and Baron, Lafleur, Toriliere, and Guerin, actors.
      Each of these persons was excellent in his way. La Ducloa and La Raisin
      were also very good; the charms of the latter had even penetrated the
      thick heart of our Dauphin, who loved her very tenderly: her husband was
      excellent in comic parts. There was also a very good harlequin, and as
      good a scaramouch. Among the best performers at the Opera were Clediere,
      Pomereuil, Godenarche, Dumenil, La Rochechouard, Maury, La Saint
      Christophe, La Brigogne, La Beaucreux. All that we see and hear now do not
      equal them.
    </p>
    <p>
      That which pleased me most in Beauvernois' life is the answer he made to
      the Prince of Vaudemont. When he was fleeing, and had arrived at Brussels,
      he gave himself out for a Prince of Lorraine. M. de Vaudemont sent for
      him, and, upon seeing him, said,&mdash;"I know all the Princes of
      Lorraine, but I do not know you."&mdash;"I assure you, sir," replied
      Beauvernois, "that I am as much a Prince of Lorraine as you are."
    </p>
    <p>
      I like that Mercy who tricked his master, the Duc de Lorraine. When he
      reached Nancy he requested the Duke to recruit three regiments, which he
      said should be his own. The Duke did recruit them, fully persuaded they
      were to be his; but when the companies were filled, Mercy begged the
      Emperor to give them to him, and he actually obtained them; so that the
      Duke had not the appointment of a single officer.
    </p>
    <p>
      The poor Duchess of Mecklenbourg, the wife of Christian Louis, was a very
      good woman when one was thoroughly acquainted with her. She told me the
      whole history of her intrigue with Bernstorff. She regulated her household
      very well, and had always two carriages. She did not affect the splendour
      of a sovereign; but she kept up her rank better than the other Duchesses,
      and I liked her the better for this. The husband, Christian Louis of
      Mecklenbourg, was a notable fool. He one day demanded an audience of the
      King, under the pretence of having something of importance to say to him.
      Louis XIV. was then more than forty years old. When the Duke found himself
      in the King's presence, he said to him, "Sire, you seem to me to have
      grown." The King laughed, and said, "Monsieur, I am past the age of
      growing."&mdash;"Sire," rejoined the Duke, "do you know everybody says I
      am very much like you, and quite as good-looking as you are?"&mdash;"That
      is very probable," said the King, still laughing. The audience was then
      finished, and the Duke went away. This fool could never engage his
      brother-in-law's favour, for M. de Luxembourg had no regard for him.
    </p>
    <p>
      When the Queen had the government of the country, all the females of the
      Court, even to the very servants, became intriguers. They say it was the
      most ridiculous thing in the world to see the eagerness with which women
      meddled with the Queen-mother's regency. At the commencement she knew
      nothing at all. She made a present to her first femme de chambre of five
      large farms, upon which the whole Court subsisted. When she went to the
      Council to propose the affair, everybody laughed, and she was asked how
      she proposed to live. She was quite astonished when the thing was
      explained to her, for she thought she had only given away five ordinary
      farms. This anecdote is very true and was related to me by the old
      Chancellor Le Tellier, who was present at the Council. She is said often
      to have laughed as she confessed her ignorance. Many other things of a
      similar nature happened during the regency.
    </p>
    <p>
      There is a Bishop of a noble family, tolerably young but very ugly, who
      was at first so devout that he thought of entering La Trappe; he wore his
      hair combed down straight, and dared not look a woman in the face. Having
      learned that in the city where he held his see there was a frail fair one,
      whose gallantries had become notorious, he felt a great desire to convert
      her and to make her come to the confessional. She was, it is said, a very
      pretty woman, and had, moreover, a great deal of wit.
    </p>
    <p>
      No sooner had the Bishop began to visit than he began to pay attention to
      his hair: first he powdered it, and then he had it dressed. At length he
      swallowed the bait so completely, that he neither quitted the fair siren
      by night nor by day. His clergy ventured to exhort him to put an end to
      this scandal, but he replied that, if they did not cease their
      remonstrances, he would find means of making them. At length he even rode
      through the city in his carriage with his fair penitent.
    </p>
    <p>
      The people became so enraged at this that they pelted him with stones. His
      relations repaired to his diocese for the purpose of exhorting him in
      their turn, but he would only receive his mother, and would not even
      follow her advice. His relations then applied to the Regent to summon the
      lady to Paris. She came, but her lover followed and recovered her; at
      length she was torn from him by a lettre-de-cachet, and taken from his
      arms to a house of correction. The Bishop is in a great rage, and declares
      that he will never forgive his family for the affront which has been put
      upon him (1718).
    </p>
    <p>
      The Queen-mother is said to have eaten four times a day in a frightful
      manner, and this practice is supposed to have brought on that cancer in
      the breast, which she sought to conceal by strong Spanish perfumes, and of
      which she died.
    </p>
    <p>
      Those female branches of the French Royal Family, who are called Enfants
      de France, all bear the title of Madame. For this reason it is that in the
      brevets they are called Madame la Duchesse de Berri; Madame la Duchesse
      d'Orleans; but in conversation they are called the Duchesse de Berri, the
      Duchesse d'Orleans; or, rather, one should say, Madame de Berri will have
      it so with respect to herself. The title of Duchesse d'Orleans belongs to
      Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans, as granddaughter. Such is the custom
      prevalent here. The brother and the sister-in-law of the King are called
      simply Monsieur and Madame, and these titles are also contained in my
      brevets; but I suffer myself to be called commonly Madame la Duchesse
      d'Orleans. Madame de Berri will be called Madame la Duchess de Berri,
      because, being only an Enfant de France of the third descent, she has need
      of that title to set off her relationship. There is nothing to be said for
      this: if there were any unmarried daughters of the late King, each would
      be called Madame, with the addition of their baptismal name.
    </p>
    <p>
      It seems that Queen Mary of England was something of a coquette in
      Holland. Comte d'Avaux, the French Ambassador, told me himself that he had
      had a secret interview with her at the apartments of one of the Queen's
      Maids of Honour, Madame Treslane. The Prince of Orange, becoming
      acquainted with the affair, dismissed the young lady, but invented some
      other pretext that the real cause might not be known.
    </p>
    <p>
      Three footmen had a quarrel together; two of them refused to admit the
      third to their table, saying, "as he and his master only serve a
      president's wife, he cannot presume to compare himself with us, who serve
      Princesses and Duchesses." The rejected footman called another fellow to
      his aid, and a violent squabble ensued. The commissaire was called: he
      found that they served three brothers, the sons of a rich merchant at
      Rouen; two of them had bought companies in the French Guards; one of the
      two had an intrigue with the wife of Duc d'Abret, and the other with the
      Duchesse de Luxembourg, while the third was only engaged with the wife of
      a president. The two former were called Colande and Maigremont; and, as at
      the same time the Duc d'Abret, the son of the Duc de Bouillon, was in love
      with the lady of the President Savari.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Envoy from Holstein, M. Dumont, was very much attached to Madame de La
      Rochefoucauld, one of Madame de Berri's 'dames du palais'. She was very
      pretty, but gifted with no other than personal charms. Some one was joking
      her on this subject, and insinuated that she had treated her lover very
      favourably. "Oh! no," she replied, "that is impossible, I assure you,
      entirely impossible." When she was urged to say what constituted the
      impossibility, she replied, "If I tell, you will immediately agree with me
      that it is quite impossible." Being pressed still further, she said, with
      a very serious air, "Because he is a Protestant!"
    </p>
    <p>
      When the marriage of Monsieur was declared, he said to Saint-Remi, "Did
      you know that I was married to the Princesse de Lorraine?"&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      "No, Monsieur," replied the latter; "I knew very well that you lived with
      her, but I did not think you would have married her."
    </p>
    <p>
      Queen Marie de Medicis, the wife of Henri IV., was one day walking at the
      Tuileries with her son, the Dauphin, when the King's mistress came into
      the garden, having also her son with her. The mistress said very,
      insolently, to the Queen, "There are our two Dauphins walking together,
      but mine is a fairer one than yours." The Queen gave her a smart box on
      the ear, and said at the same time, "Let this impertinent woman be taken
      away." The mistress ran instantly to Henri IV. to complain, but the King,
      having heard her story, said, "This is your own fault; why did you not
      speak to the Queen with the respect which you owe to her?"
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame de Fiennes, who in her youth had been about the Queen-mother, used
      always to say to the late Monsieur, "The Queen, your mother, was a very
      silly woman; rest her soul!" My aunt, the Abbess of Maubuisson, told me
      that she saw at the Queen's a man who was called "the repairer of the
      Queen's face;" that Princess, as well as all the ladies of the Court, wore
      great quantities of paint.
    </p>
    <p>
      On account of the great services which the House of Arpajon in France had
      rendered to the Order of Malta, a privilege was formerly granted that the
      second son of that family, should at his birth become a Knight of the
      Order without the necessity of any proof or any inquiry as to his mother.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Czar Peter I. is not mad; he has sense enough, and if he had not
      unfortunately been so brutally educated he would have made a good prince.
      The way in which he behaved to his Czarowitz (Alexis) is horrible. He gave
      his word that he would do him no injury, and afterwards poisoned him by
      means of the Sacrament. This is so impious and abominable that I can never
      forgive him for it (1719).
    </p>
    <p>
      The last Duc d'Ossuna had, it is said, a very beautiful, but at the same
      time a passionate and jealous wife. Having learnt that her husband had
      chosen a very fine stuff for the dress of his mistress, an actress, she
      went to the merchant and procured it of him. He, thinking it was intended
      for her, made no scruple of delivering it to her. After it was made up she
      put it on, and, showing it to her husband, said, "Do not you think it is
      very beautiful?" The husband, angry at the trick, replied, "Yes, the stuff
      is very beautiful, but it is put to an unworthy use." "That is what
      everybody says of me," retorted the Duchess.
    </p>
    <p>
      At Fontainebleau in the Queen's cabinet may be seen the portrait of La
      Belle Terronniere, who was so much beloved by Francois I., and who was the
      unwitting cause of his death.
    </p>
    <p>
      I have often walked at night in the gallery at Fontainebleau where the
      King's ghost is said to appear, but the good Francois I. never did me the
      honour to show himself. Perhaps it was because he thought my prayers were
      not efficacious enough to draw him from purgatory, and in this I think he
      was quite right.
    </p>
    <p>
      King James II. died with great firmness and resolution, and without any
      bigotry; that is to say, very differently from the manner in which he had
      lived. I saw and spoke to him four-and-twenty hours before his death. "I
      hope," I said, "soon to hear of your Majesty's getting better." He smiled
      and said, "If I should die, shall I not have lived long enough?"
    </p>
    <p>
      I hardly know how to rejoice at the accession of our Prince George to the
      Throne of England, for I have no confidence in the English people. I
      remember still too well the fine speeches which were made here not long
      ago by Lord Peterborough. I would rather that our Elector was Emperor of
      Germany, and I wish that the King who is here (James II.) was again in
      possession of England, because the kingdom belongs to him. I fear that the
      inconstancy of the English will in the end produce some scheme which may
      be injurious to us. Perhaps there was never in any nation a King who had
      been crowned with more eclat, or tumultuous joy than James II.; and yet
      the same nation since persecuted him in the most pitiless manner, and has
      so tormented his innocent son that he can scarcely find an asylum after
      all his heavy misfortunes.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [The Duchesse D'Orleans was, by the mother's side, granddaughter of
     James I, which explains the interest she took in the fate of the
     Stuart family.]
</pre>
    <p>
      If the English were to be trusted I should say that it is fortunate the
      Parliaments are in favour of George; but the more one reads the history of
      English Revolutions, the more one is compelled to remark the eternal
      hatred which the people of that nation have had towards their Kings, as
      well as their fickleness (1714).
    </p>
    <p>
      Have I not reason to fear on George's account since he has been made King
      of England, and knowing as I do the desire he had to be King of another
      country? I know the accursed English too well to trust them. May God
      protect their Majesties the Princes, and all the family, but I confess I
      fear for them greatly (1715).
    </p>
    <p>
      The poor Princess of Wales
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [Wilhelmina-Dorothea-Charlotte, daughter of John Frederick, Margrave
     of Anspach, born in 1682, married to the Prince of Wales in 1706.
     The particulars of the quarrel between George I. and his son, the
     Prince of Wales, will be found in Cose's "Memoirs of Sir Robert
     Walpole."]
</pre>
    <p>
      has caused me great uneasiness since her letter of the 3rd (15th) of
      February (1718). She has implored the King's pardon as one implores the
      pardon of God, but without success. I know nothing about it, but dread
      lest the Prince should partake his mother's disgrace. I think, however,
      since the King has declared the Prince to be his son, he should treat him
      as such, and not act so haughtily against the Princess, who has never
      offended him, but has always treated him with the respect due to a father.
      Nothing good can result from the present state of affairs; and the King
      had better put an end to a quarrel which gives occasion to a thousand
      impertinences, and revives awkward stories which were better forgotten.
    </p>
    <p>
      The King of England has returned to London in good health (1719). The
      Prince of Wales causes me great anxiety. He thought he should do well to
      send one of his gentlemen to his father, to assure him in most submissive
      terms of the joy he felt at his happy return. The King not only would not
      receive the letter, but he sent back the gentleman with a very harsh
      rebuke, revoking at the same time the permission, which before his journey
      he had given to the Prince of Wales, to see his daughter, whom the Prince
      loves very tenderly; this really seems too severe. It may be said that the
      King is rather descended from the race of the Czar than from that of
      Brunswick and the Palatinate. Such conduct can do him no good.
    </p>
    <p>
      M. d'Entremont, the last Ambassador from Sicily, was upon the point of
      departing, and had already had his farewell audience, when some
      circumstance happened which compelled him to stay some time longer. He
      found himself without a lodging, for his hotel had been already let. A
      lady seeing the embarrassment in which Madame d'Entremont was thus placed,
      said to her, "Madame, I have pleasure in offering you my house, my own
      room, and my own bed." The Ambassador's lady not knowing what to do,
      accepted the offer with great readiness. She went to the lady's house, and
      as she is old and in ill health, she went to bed immediately. Towards
      midnight she heard a noise like that of some person opening a secret door.
      In fact, a door in the wall by the bedside was opened. Some one entered,
      and began to undress. The lady called out, "Who is there?" A voice
      replied, "It is I; be quiet." "Who are you?" asked the lady. "What is the
      matter with you?" was the reply. "You were not wont to be so particular. I
      am undressing, and shall come to bed directly." At these words the lady
      cried out, "Thieves!" with all her might, and the unknown person dressed
      himself quickly, and withdrew.
    </p>
    <p>
      When the Electoral Prince of Saxony came hither, he addressed a pretty
      compliment to the King, which we all thought was his own, and we therefore
      conceived a very favourable notion of his parts. He did not, however, keep
      up that good opinion, and probably the compliment was made for him by the
      Elector-Palatine. The King desired the Duchesse de Berri to show him about
      Marly. He walked with her for an hour without ever offering her his arm or
      saying one word to her. While they were ascending a small hill, the
      Palatine, his Governor, nodded to him; and as the Prince did not
      understand what he meant, he was at length obliged to say to him, "Offer
      your arm to the Duchesse de Berri." The Prince obeyed, but without saying
      a word. When they reached the summit, "Here," said the Duchesse de Berri,
      "is a nice place for blindman's buff." Then, for the first time, he opened
      his mouth, and said, "Oh, yes; I am very willing to play." Madame de Berri
      was too much fatigued to play; but the Prince continued amusing himself
      the whole day without offering the least civility to the Duchess, who had
      taken such pains for him. This will serve to show how puerile the Prince
      is.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
                    ..........................
</pre>
    <p>
      We have had here several good repartees of Duke Bernard von Weimar. One
      day a young Frenchman asked him, "How happened it that you lost the
      battle?"&mdash;"I will tell you, sir," replied the Duke, coolly; "I
      thought I should win it, and so I lost it. But," he said, turning himself
      slowly round, "who is the fool that asked me this question?"
    </p>
    <p>
      Father Joseph was in great favour with Cardinal Richelieu, and was
      consulted by him on all occasions. One day, when the Cardinal had summoned
      Duke Bernard to the Council, Father Joseph, running his finger over a map,
      said, "Monsieur, you must first take this city; then that, and then that."
      The Duke Bernard listened to him for some time, and at length said, "But,
      Monsieur Joseph, you cannot take cities with your finger." This story
      always made the King laugh heartily.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
                    ..........................
</pre>
    <p>
      M. de Brancas was very deeply in love with the lady whom he married. On
      his wedding-day he went to take a bath, and was afterwards going to bed at
      the bath-house. "Why are you going to bed here, sir?" said his valet de
      chambre; "do you not mean to go to your wife?"&mdash;"I had quite
      forgotten," he replied. He was the Queen-mother's chevalier d'honneur. One
      day, while she was at church, Brancas forgot that the Queen was kneeling
      before him, for as her back was very round, her head could hardly be seen
      when she hung it down. He took her for a prie-dieu, and knelt down upon
      her, putting his elbows upon her shoulders. The Queen was of course not a
      little surprised to find her chevalier d'honneur upon her back, and all
      the bystanders were ready to die with laughing.
    </p>
    <p>
      Dr. Chirac was once called to see a lady, and, while he was in her
      bedchamber, he heard that the price of stock had considerably decreased.
      As he happened to be a large holder of the Mississippi Bonds, he was
      alarmed at the news; and being seated near the patient, whose pulse he was
      feeling, he said with a deep sigh, "Ah, good God! they keep sinking,
      sinking, sinking!" The poor sick lady hearing this, uttered a loud shriek;
      the people ran to her immediately. "Ah," said she, "I shall die; M. de
      Chirac has just said three times, as he felt my pulse, 'They keep
      sinking!'" The Doctor recovered himself soon, and said, "You dream; your
      pulse is very healthy, and you are very well. I was thinking of the
      Mississippi stocks, upon which I lose my money, because their price
      sinks." This explanation satisfied the sick lady.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Duc de Sully was subject to frequent fits of abstraction. One day,
      having dressed himself to go to church, he forgot nothing but his
      breeches. This was in the winter; when he entered the church, he said,
      "Mon Dieu, it is very cold to-day." The persons present said, "Not colder
      than usual!"&mdash;"Then I am in a fever," he said. Some one suggested
      that he had perhaps not dressed himself so warmly as usual, and, opening
      his coat, the cause of his being cold was very apparent.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our late King told me the following anecdote of Queen Christina of Sweden:
      That Princess, instead of putting on a nightcap, wrapped her head up in a
      napkin. One night she could not sleep, and ordered the musicians to be
      brought into her bedroom; where, drawing the bed-curtains, she could not
      be seen by the musicians, but could hear them at her ease. At length,
      enchanted at a piece which they had just played, she abruptly thrust her
      head beyond the curtains, and cried out, "Mort diable! but they sing
      delightfully!" At this grotesque sight, the Italians, and particularly the
      castrati, who are not the bravest men in the world, were so frightened
      that they were obliged to stop short.
    </p>
    <p>
      In the great gallery at Fontainebleau may still be seen the blood of the
      man whom she caused to be assassinated; it was to prevent his disclosing
      some secrets of which he was in possession that she deprived him of life.
      He had, in fact, begun to chatter through jealousy of another person who
      had gained the Queen's favour. Christina was very vindictive, and given up
      to all kinds of debauchery.
    </p>
    <p>
      Duke Frederick Augustus of Brunswick was delighted with Christina; he said
      that he had never in his life met a woman who had so much wit, and whose
      conversation was so truly diverting; he added that it was impossible to be
      dull with her for a moment. I observed to him that the Queen in her
      conversation frequently indulged in very filthy discussions. "That is
      true," replied he, "but she conceals such things in so artful a manner as
      to take from them all their disgusting features." She never could be
      agreeable to women, for she despised them altogether.
    </p>
    <p>
      Saint Francois de Sales, who founded the order of the Sisters of Saint
      Mary, had in his youth been extremely intimate with the Marechal de
      Villeroi, the father of the present Marshal. The old gentleman could
      therefore never bring himself to call his old friend a saint. When any one
      spoke in his presence of Saint Francois de Sales, he used to say, "I was
      delighted when I saw M. de Sales become a saint; he used to delight in
      talking indecently, and always cheated at play; but in every other respect
      he was one of the best gentlemen in the world, and perhaps one of the most
      foolish."
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     M. de Cosnac, Archbishop of Aix, was at a very advanced age when he
     learnt that Saint Francois de Sales had been canonized.  "What!"
     cried he, "M. de Geneve, my old friend?  I am delighted at his good
     fortune; he was a gallant man, an amiable man, and an honest man,
     too, although he would sometimes cheat at piquet, at which we have
     often played together."&mdash;"But, sir," said some one present, "is it
     possible that a saint could be a sharper at play?"&mdash;"No," replied
     the Archbishop, "he said, as a reason for it, that he gave all his
     winnings to the poor."  [Loisirs d'un homme d'etat, et Dictionnaire
     Historique, tom. vii.  Paris, 1810.]
</pre>
    <p>
      While Frederick Charles de Wurtemberg, the administrateur of that duchy,
      was staying at Paris, the Princesse Marianne de Wurtemberg, Duke Ulric's
      daughter, was there also with her mother. Expecting then to marry her
      cousin,
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [The learned Journal of Gottengin for the year 1789, No.  30,
     observes there must be some mistake here, because in 1689, when this
     circumstance is supposed to have occurred, the administrateur had
     been married seven years, and had children at Stuttgard.]
</pre>
    <p>
      she had herself painted as Andromeda and her cousin as Perseus as the
      latter wore no helmet, everybody could of course recognize him. But when
      he went away without having married her, she had a casque painted, which
      concealed the face, and said she would not have another face inserted
      until she should be married. She was then about nineteen years old. Her
      mother said once at Court, "My daughter has not come with me to-day
      because she is gone to confess; but, poor child, what can she have to say
      to her confessor, except that she has dropped some stitches in her work."
      Madame de Fiennes, who was present, whispered, "The placid old fool! as if
      a stout, healthy girl of nineteen had no other sins to confess than having
      dropped some stitches."
    </p>
    <p>
      A village pastor was examining his parishioners in their catechism. The
      first question in the Heidelberg catechism is this: "What is thy only
      consolation in life and in death?" A young girl, to whom the pastor put
      this question, laughed, and would not answer. The priest insisted. "Well,
      then," said she at length, "if I must tell you, it is the young shoemaker
      who lives in the Rue Agneaux."
    </p>
    <p>
      The late Madame de Nemours had charitably brought up a poor child. When
      the child was about nine years old, she said to her benefactress, "Madame,
      no one can be more grateful for your charity than I am, and I cannot
      acknowledge it better than by telling everybody I am your daughter; but do
      not be alarmed, I will not say that I am your lawful child, only your
      illegitimate daughter."
    </p>
    <p>
      The Memoirs of Queen Margaret of Navarre are merely a romance compared
      with those of Mdlle. de La Force. The authoress's own life was a romance.
      Being extremely poor, although of an ancient and honourable family, she
      accepted the office of demoiselle d'honneur to the Duchesse de Guise. Here
      the Marquis de Nesle, father of the present Marquis (1720), became
      enamoured of her, after having received from her a small bag to wear about
      his neck, as a remedy against the vapours. He would have married her, but
      his relations opposed this intention on the score of Mdlle. de La Force's
      poverty, and because she had improperly quitted the Duchesse de Guise. The
      Great Conde, the Marquis de Nesle's nearest relation, took him to
      Chattillon that he might forget his love for Mdlle. de La Force; all the
      Marquis's relations were there assembled for the purpose of declaring to
      him that they would never consent to his marriage with Mdlle. de La Force;
      and he on his part told them that he would never while he lived marry any
      other person. In a moment of despair, he rushed out to the garden and
      would have thrown himself into the canal, but that the strings, with which
      Mdlle. de La Force had tied the bag about his neck, broke, and the bag
      fell at his feet. His thoughts appeared to undergo a sudden change, and
      Mdlle. de La Force seemed to him to be as ugly as she really is. He went
      instantly to the Prince and his other relations who were there, and told
      them what had just happened. They searched about in the garden for the bag
      and the strings, and, opening it, they found it to contain two toads' feet
      holding a heart wrapped up in a bat's wing, and round the whole a paper
      inscribed with unintelligible cyphers. The Marquis was seized with horror
      at the sight. He told me this story with his own mouth. Mdlle. de La Force
      after this fell in love with Baron, but as he was not bewitched, the
      intrigue did not last long: he used to give a very amusing account of the
      declaration she made to him. Then a M. Briou, the son of a Councillor of
      that name, became attached to her; his relations, who would by no means
      have consented to such a marriage, shut the young man up. La Force, who
      has a very fertile wit, engaged an itinerant musician who led about
      dancing bears in the street, and intimated to her lover that, if he would
      express a wish to see the bears dance in the courtyard of his, own house,
      she would come to him disguised in a bear's skin. She procured a bear's
      skin to be made so as to fit her, and went to M. Briou's house with the
      bears; the young man, under the pretence of playing with this bear, had an
      opportunity of conversing with her and of laying their future plans. He
      then promised his father that he would submit to his will, and thus having
      regained his liberty he immediately married Mdlle. de La Force, and went
      with her to Versailles, where the King gave them apartments, and where
      Madame de Briou was every day with the Dauphine of Bavaria, who admired
      her wit and was delighted with her society. M. de Briou was not then
      five-and-twenty years of age, a very good-looking and well-bred young man.
      His father, however, procured a dissolution of the marriage by the
      Parliament, and made him marry another person. Madame de Briou thus became
      once more Mdlle. de La Force, and found herself without husband and money.
      I cannot tell how it was that the King and her parents, both of whom had
      consented to the marriage, did not oppose its dissolution. To gain a
      subsistence she set about composing romances, and as she was often staying
      with the Princesse de Conti, she dedicated to her that of Queen Margaret.
    </p>
    <p>
      We have had four Dukes who have bought coffee, stuffs, and even candles
      for the purpose of selling them again at a profit. It was the Duke de La
      Force who bought the candles. One evening, very recently, as he was going
      out of the Opera, the staircase was filled with young men, one of whom
      cried out, as he passed, "His purse!"&mdash;"No," said another, "there can
      be no money in it; he would not risk it; it must be candles that he has
      bought to sell again." They then sang the air of the fourth act of
      'Phaeton'.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [The Duke, together with certain other persons, made considerable
     purchases of spice, porcelain, and other merchandizes, for the
     purpose of realizing the hope of Law's Banks.  As he was not held in
     estimation either by the public or by the Parliament, the Duke was
     accused of monopoly; and by a decree of the Parliament, in concert
     with the Peers, he was enjoined "to use more circumspection for the
     future, and to conduct himself irreproachably, in a manner as should
     be consistent with his birth and his dignity as a Peer of France."]
</pre>
    <p>
      The Queen Catherine (de Medicis) was a very wicked woman. Her uncle, the
      Pope, had good reason for saying that he had made a bad present to France.
      It is said that she poisoned her youngest son because he had discovered
      her in a common brothel whither she had gone privately. Who can wonder
      that such a woman should drink out of a cup covered with designs from
      Aretino. The Pope had an object in sending her to France. Her son was the
      Duc d'Alencon; and as they both remained incog. the world did not know
      that they were mother and son, which occasioned frequent mistakes.
    </p>
    <p>
      The young Count Horn, who has just been executed here (1720), was
      descended from a well-known Flemish family; he was distinguished at first
      for the amiable qualities of his head and for his wit. At college he was a
      model for good conduct, application, and purity of morals; but the
      intimacy which he formed with some libertine young men during his stay at
      the Academy of Paris entirely changed him. He contracted an insatiable
      desire for play, and even his own father said to him, "You will die by the
      hands of the executioner." Being destitute of money, the young Count took
      up the trade of a pickpocket, which he carried on in the pit of the
      theatres, and by which he made considerable gains in silver-hilted swords
      and watches. At length, having lost a sum of five-and-twenty thousand
      crowns at the fair of Saint-Germain, he was led to commit that crime which
      he has just expiated on the scaffold. For the purpose of discharging the
      debt he had contracted, he sent for a banker's clerk to bring him certain
      bank bills, which he proposed to purchase. Having connected himself with
      two other villains, he attacked the clerk as soon as he arrived, and
      stabbed him with poniards which he had bought three days before on the
      Pont Neuf. Hoping to conceal the share which he had taken in this crime,
      he went immediately after its perpetration to the Commissaire du Quartier,
      and told him, with a cool and determined air, that he had been obliged, in
      his own defence, to kill the clerk, who had attacked him and put him in
      danger of his life. The Commissaire looking at him steadfastly, said, "You
      are covered with blood, but you are not even wounded; I must retain you in
      custody until I can examine this affair more minutely." At this moment the
      accomplice entered the room. "Here, sir," said the Count to the
      Commissaire, "is one who can bear testimony that the account I have given
      you of this business is perfectly true." The accomplice was quite
      terrified at hearing this; he thought that Count Horn had confessed his
      crime, and that there could be no advantage in continuing to deny it; he
      therefore confessed all that had taken place, and thus the murder was
      revealed. The Count was not more than two-and-twenty years of age, and one
      of the handsomest men in Paris. Some of the first persons in France
      solicited in his favour, but the Duke Regent thought it necessary to make
      an example of him on account of the prevalent excess of crime. Horn was
      publicly broken on the wheel with his second accomplice; the other died
      just before: they were both gentlemen and of noble families. When they
      arrived at the place of punishment, they begged the people to implore the
      pardon of Heaven upon their sins. The spectators were affected to tears,
      but they nevertheless agreed in the just severity of their punishment. The
      people said aloud after the execution, "Our Regent has done justice."
    </p>
    <p>
      One lady was blaming another, her intimate friend, for loving a very ugly
      man. The latter said, "Did he ever speak to you tenderly or passionately?"&mdash;"No,"
      replied the former. "Then you cannot judge," said her friend, "whether I
      ought to love him or not."
    </p>
    <p>
      Madame de Nemours used to say, "I have observed one thing in this country,
      'Honour grows again as well as hair.'"
    </p>
    <p>
      An officer, a gentleman of talent, whose name was Hautmont, wrote the
      following verses upon Cardinal Mazarin, for which he was locked up in the
      Bastille for eighteen months:
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
                         Creusons tous le tombeau
                         A qui nous persecute;
                         A ce Jules nouveauu
                         Cherchons un nouveau Brute.
                         Que le jour serait beau,
                         Si nous voyions sa chute!
</pre>
    <p>
      The Queen-mother could not endure Boisrobert on account of his impiety;
      she did not like him to visit her sons, the King and Monsieur, in their
      youth, but they were very fond of him because he used to amuse them. When
      he was at the point of death, the Queen-mother sent some priests to
      convert him and to prepare him for confession. Boisrobert appeared
      inclined to confess. "Yes, mon Dieu," said he, devoutly joining his hands,
      "I sincerely implore Thy pardon, and confess that I am a great sinner, but
      thou knowest that the Abbe de Villargeau is a much greater sinner than I
      am."
    </p>
    <p>
      Cardinal Mazarin sent him once to compliment the English Ambassador on his
      arrival. When he reached the hotel, an Englishman said to him, "Milord, il
      est pret; my ladi, il n'est pas pret, friselire ses chevaux, prendre
      patience." The late King used to relate stories of this same Boisrobert in
      a very whimsical manner.
    </p>
    <p>
      The life which folks lead at Paris becomes daily more scandalous; I really
      tremble for the city every time it thunders. Three ladies of quality have
      just committed a monstrous imprudence. They have been running after the
      Turkish Ambassador; they made his son drunk and kept him with them three
      days; if they go on in this way even the Capuchins will not be safe from
      them. The Turks must needs have a very becoming notion of the conduct of
      ladies of quality in a Christian country. The young Turk is said to have
      told Madame de Polignac, who was one of the three ladies, "Madame, your
      reputation has reached Constantinople, and I see that report has only done
      you justice." The Ambassador, it is said, is very much enraged with his
      son, and has enjoined him to keep his adventure profoundly a secret,
      because he would risk the top of his head on his return to Constantinople
      if it were known that he had associated with Christian women. It is to be
      feared that the young man will get safely out of France. Madame de
      Polignac has fleeced all the young men of quality here. I do not know how
      her relations and those of her husband choose to suffer her to lead so
      libertine a life. But all shame is extinct in France, and everything is
      turned topsy-turvy.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is very unfortunate that noblemen like the Elector-Palatine John
      William should suffer themselves to be governed by the priesthood; nothing
      but evil can result from it. He would do much better if he would follow
      the advice of able statesmen, and throw his priest into the Necker. I
      would advise him to do so, and I think I should advise him well.
    </p>
    <p>
      I cannot conceive why the Duke Maximilian (brother of George I. of
      England)
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     [Prince Maximilian of Hanover, the second brother of George I., had,
     after the death of his brother, Frederick Augustus, certain rights
     over the Bishopric of Osnaburgh; love and his monks caused him to
     embrace the catholic faith.]
</pre>
    <p>
      changed his religion, for he had very little faith in general; none of his
      relations solicited him to do so, and he was induced by no personal
      interest.
    </p>
    <p>
      I have heard a story of this Prince, which does him little honour. I have
      been told that he complained to the Emperor of his mother, who bred him
      tenderly, but who had not sent him eight thousand crowns which he had
      asked her for. This is abominable, and he can hope for happiness neither
      in this nor in the next world; I can never forgive him for it. The first
      idea of this must have originated with Father Wolff, who has also excited
      him against Prince Edward Augustus.&mdash;[Maximilian contested the
      Bishopric of Osnaburgh with his younger brother.]&mdash;What angers me
      most with this cursed monk is, that he will not suffer Duke Maximilian to
      have a single nobleman about him; he will only allow him to be approached
      by beggars like himself.
    </p>
    <p>
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<pre xml:space="preserve">
    A pious Capuchin explained her dream to her
    Always has a fictitious malady in reserve
    Art of satisfying people even while he reproved their requests
    Asked the King a hundred questions, which is not the fashion
    Bad company spoils good manners
    Because the Queen has only the rinsings of the glass
    But all shame is extinct in France
    Duc de Grammont, then Ambassador, played the Confessor
    Duplicity passes for wit, and frankness is looked upon as folly
    Even doubt whether he believes in the existence of a God
    Exclaimed so long against high head-dresses
    Follies and superstitions as the rosaries and other things
    Formerly the custom to swear horridly on all occasions
    Frequent and excessive bathing have undermined her health
    Great filthiness in the interior of their houses
    Great things originated from the most insignificant trifles
    He had good natural wit, but was extremely ignorant
    He always slept in the Queen's bed
    He was a good sort of man, notwithstanding his weaknesses
    Her teeth were very ugly, being black and broken (Queen)
    Honour grows again as well as hair
    I thought I should win it, and so I lost it
    I never take medicine but on urgent occasions
    I wished the husband not to be informed of it
    I have seldom been at a loss for something to laugh at
    I am unquestionably very ugly
    I had a mind, he said, to commit one sin, but not two
    I formed a religion of my own
    If I should die, shall I not have lived long enough?
    It is an unfortunate thing for a man not to know himself
    It was not permitted to argue with him
    Jewels and decoration attract attention (to the ugly)
    Like will to like
    Louis XIV. scarcely knew how to read and write
    Made his mistresses treat her with all becoming respect
    My husband proposed separate beds
    No man more ignorant of religion than the King was
    Nobility becoming poor could not afford to buy the high offices
    Not lawful to investigate in matters of religion
    Old Maintenon
    Only your illegitimate daughter
    Original manuscripts of the Memoirs of Cardinal Retz
    Provided they are talked of, they are satisfied
    Robes battantes for the purpose of concealing her pregnancy
    Seeing myself look as ugly as I really am (in a mirror)
    She never could be agreeable to women
    Since becoming Queen she had not had a day of real happiness
    So great a fear of hell had been instilled into the King
    Soon tired of war, and wishing to return home (Louis XIV)
    Stout, healthy girl of nineteen had no other sins to confess
    Subject to frequent fits of abstraction
    That what he called love was mere debauchery
    The old woman (Madame Maintenon)
    Throw his priest into the Necker
    To tell the truth, I was never very fond of having children
    To die is the least event of my life (Maintenon)
    You never look in a mirror when you pass it
    You are a King; you weep, and yet I go
</pre>
<pre xml:space="preserve">





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