VOLUME
1.
CHAPTER
I
Birth and Family.--Early
Life.--Desire to join the Army.--Enter the
Musketeers.--The Campaign
Commences.--Camp of Gevries.--Siege of Namur.
--Dreadful Weather.--Gentlemen
Carrying Corn.--Sufferings during the
Siege.--The Monks of Marlaigne.--Rival
Couriers.--Naval Battle.--
Playing with Fire-arms.--A
Prediction Verified.
CHAPTER
II
The King's Natural
Children.--Proposed Marriage of the Duc de Chartres.--
Influence of Dubois.--The Duke and
the King.--An Apartment.--Announcement
of the Marriage.--Anger of
Madame.--Household of the Duchess.--Villars
and Rochefort.--Friend of King's
Mistresses.--The Marriage Ceremony.--
Toilette of the Duchess.--Son of
Montbron.--Marriage of M. du Maine.--
Duchess of Hanover.--Duc de
Choiseul.--La Grande Mademoiselle.
CHAPTER
III
Death
of My Father.--Anecdotes of Louis XIII.--The Cardinal de
Richelieu.--The Duc de
Bellegarde.--Madame de Hautefort.--My Father's
Enemy.--His Services and Reward.--A
Duel against Law.--An Answer to a
Libel.--M. de la Rochefoucauld.--My
Father's Gratitude to Louis XIII.
CHAPTER
IV
Position of the Prince of
Orange.--Strange Conduct of the King.--Surprise
and Indignation.--Battle of
Neerwinden.--My Return to Paris.--Death of La
Vauguyon.--Symptoms of
Madness.--Vauguyon at the Bastille.--Projects of
Marriage.--M. de Beauvilliers.--A
Negotiation for a Wife.--My Failure.--
Visit to La Trappe.
CHAPTER
V
M. de Luxembourg's Claim of
Precedence.--Origin of the Claim.--Duc de
Piney.--Character of
Harlay.--Progress of the Trial.--Luxembourg and
Richelieu.--Double-dealing of
Harlay.--The Duc de Gesvres.--Return to the
Seat of War.--Divers
Operations.--Origin of These Memoirs.
CHAPTER
VI
Quarrels of the
Princesses.--Mademoiselle Choin.--A Disgraceful Affair.--
M. de Noyon.--Comic Scene at the
Academie.--Anger and Forgiveness of
M. de Noyon.--M. de Noailles in
Disgrace.--How He Gets into Favour Again.
--M. de Vendome in
Command.--Character of M. de Luxembourg.-- The Trial
for Precedence Again.--An Insolent
Lawyer.--Extraordinary Decree.
CHAPTER
VII
Harlay
and the Dutch.--Death of the Princess of Orange.--Count
Koenigsmarck.--A New Proposal of
Marriage.--My Marriage.--That of M. de
Lauzun.--Its Result.--La Fontaine
and Mignard.--Illness of the Marechal
de Lorges.--Operations on the Rhine.--Village
of Seckenheim.--An Episode
of War.--Cowardice of M. du
Maine.--Despair of the King, Who Takes a
Knave in the Act.--Bon Mot of M.
d'Elboeuf.
CHAPTER
VIII
The Abbe de Fenelon.--The Jansenists
and St. Sulpice.--Alliance with
Madame Guyon.--Preceptor of the
Royal Children.--Acquaintance with Madame
de Maintenon.--Appointment to
Cambrai.--Disclosure of Madame Guyon's
Doctrines.--Her Disgrace.--Bossuet
and Fenelon.--Two Rival Books.--
Disgrace of Fenelon.
CHAPTER
I
I was born on the night of the 15th
of January, 1675, of Claude Duc de
Saint-Simon,
Peer of France, and of his second wife Charlotte de
l'Aubepine. I was the only child of that marriage. By his first wife,
Diana de Budos, my father had had
only a daughter. He married her to the
Duc de Brissac, Peer of France, only
brother of the Duchesse de Villeroy.
She died in 1684, without
children,--having been long before separated
from a husband who was unworthy of
her--leaving me heir of all her
property.
I bore the name of the Vidame de
Chartres; and was educated with great
care and attention. My mother, who was remarkable for virtue,
perseverance, and sense, busied
herself continually in forming my mind
and body. She feared for me the usual fate of young
men, who believe
their fortunes made, and who find
themselves their own masters early in
life. It was not likely that my father, born in
1606, would live long
enough to ward off from me this
danger; and my mother repeatedly
impressed on, me how necessary it
was for a young man, the son of the
favourite of a King long dead,--with
no new friends at Court,--to acquire
some personal value of his own. She succeeded in stimulating my courage;
and in exciting in me the desire to
make the acquisitions she laid stress
on; but my aptitude for study and
the sciences did not come up to my
desire to succeed in them. However, I had an innate inclination for
reading, especially works of
history; and thus was inspired with ambition
to emulate the examples presented to
my imagination,--to do something and
become somebody, which partly made
amends for my coldness for letters.
In fact, I have always thought that
if I had been allowed to read history
more constantly, instead of losing
my time in studies for which I had no
aptness, I might have made some figure
in the world.
What I read of my own accord, of
history, and, above all, of the personal
memoirs of the times since Francis
I., bred in me the desire to write
down what I might myself see. The hope of advancement, and of becoming
familiar with the affairs of my
time, stirred me. The annoyances I might
thus bring upon myself did not fail
to present themselves to my mind; but
the firm resolution I made to keep
my writings secret from everybody,
appeared to me to remedy all
evils. I commenced my memoirs then in
July,
1694, being at that time colonel of
a cavalry regiment bearing my name,
in the camp of Guinsheim, upon the
old Rhine, in the army commanded by
the Marechal Duc de Lorges.
In 1691 I was studying my philosophy
and beginning to learn to ride at an
academy at Rochefort, getting
mightily tired of masters and books, and
anxious to join the army. The siege of Mons, formed by the King in
person, at the commencement of the
spring, had drawn away all the young
men of my age to commence their
first campaign; and, what piqued me most,
the Duc de Chartres was there,
too. I had been, as it were, educated
with him. I was younger than he by eight months; and if
the expression
be allowed in speaking of young
people, so unequal in position,
friendship had united us. I made up my mind, therefore, to escape from
my leading-strings; but pass lightly
over the artifices I used in order
to attain success. I addressed myself to my mother. I soon saw that she
trifled with me. I had recourse to my father, whom I made
believe that
the King, having led a great siege
this year, would rest the next.
I said nothing of this to my mother,
who did not discover my plot until
it was just upon the point, of
execution.
The King had determined rigidly to
adhere to a rule he had laid down--
namely, that none who entered the
service, except his illegitimate
children, and the Princes of the
blood royal, should be exempt from
serving for a year in one of his two
companies of musketeers; and passing
afterwards through the ordeal of
being private or subaltern in one of the
regiments of cavalry or infantry,
before receiving permission to purchase
a regiment. My father took me, therefore, to Versailles,
where he had
not been for many years, and begged
of the King admission for me into the
Musketeers. It was on the day of St. Simon and St. Jude,
at half-past
twelve, and just as his Majesty came
out of the council.
The King did my father the honour of
embracing him three times, and then
turned towards me. Finding that I was little and of delicate
appearance,
he said I was still very young; to
which my father replied, that I should
be able in consequence to serve
longer. Thereupon the King demanded in
which of the two companies he wished
to put me; and my father named that
commanded by Maupertuis, who was one
of his friends. The King relied
much upon the information given him
by the captains of the two companies
of Musketeers, as to the young men
who served in them. I have reason for
believing, that I owe to Maupertuis
the first good opinion that his
Majesty had of me.
Three months after entering the
Musketeers, that is to say, in the March
of the following year, the King held
a review of his guards, and of the
gendarmerie, at Compiegne, and I
mounted guard once at the palace.
During this little journey there was
talk of a much more important one.
My joy was extreme; but my father,
who had not counted upon this,
repented of having believed me, when
I told him that the King would no
doubt rest at Paris this year. My mother, after a little vexation and
pouting at finding me enrolled by my
father against her will, did not
fail to bring him to reason, and to
make him provide me with an equipment
of thirty-five horses or mules, and
means to live honourably.
A grievous annoyance happened in our
house about three weeks before my
departure. A steward of my father named Tesse, who had
been with him
many years, disappeared all at once
with fifty thousand francs due to
various tradesfolk. He had written out false receipts from these
people,
and put them in his accounts. He was a little man, gentle, affable, and
clever; who had shown some probity,
and who had many friends.
The
King set out on the 10th of May, 1692, with the ladies; and I
performed the journey on horseback
with the soldiers and all the
attendants, like the other
Musketeers, and continued to do so through the
whole campaign. I was accompanied by two gentlemen; the one
had been my
tutor, the other was my mother's
squire. The King's army was formed at
the camp of Gevries; that of M. de
Luxembourg almost joined it: The
ladies were at Mons, two leagues
distant. The King made them come into
his camp, where he entertained them;
and then showed them, perhaps; the
most superb review which had ever
been seen. The two armies were ranged
in two lines, the right of M. de
Luxembourg's touching the left of the
King's,--the whole extending over
three leagues of ground.
After stopping ten days at Gevries,
the two armies separated and marched.
Two days afterwards the seige of
Namur was declared. The King arrived
there in five days. Monseigneur (son of the King); Monsieur (Duc
d'Orleans, brother of the King); M.
le Prince (de Conde) and Marechal
d'Humieres; all four, the one under
the other, commanded in the King's
army under the King himself. The Duc de Luxembourg, sole general of his
own army, covered the siege
operations, and observed the enemy. The
ladies went away to Dinant. On the third day of the march M. le Prince
went forward to invest the place.
The celebrated Vauban, the life and
soul of all the sieges the King made,
was of opinion that the town should
be attacked separately from the
castle; and his advice was acted
upon. The Baron de Bresse, however,
who had fortified the place, was for
attacking town and castle together.
He was a humble down-looking man,
whose physiognomy promised nothing, but
who soon acquired the confidence of
the King, and the esteem of the army.
The Prince de Conde, Marechal
d'Humieres, and the Marquis de Boufflers
each led an attack. There was nothing worthy of note during the
ten days
the siege lasted. On the eleventh day, after the trenches had
been
opened, a parley was beaten and a
capitulation made almost as the
besieged desired it. They withdrew to the castle; and it was
agreed that
it should not be attacked from the
town-side, and that the town was not
to be battered by it. During the siege the King was almost always
in his
tent; and the weather remained
constantly warm and serene. We lost
scarcely anybody of
consequence. The Comte de Toulouse received
a slight
wound in the arm while quite close
to the King, who from a prominent
place was witnessing the attack of a
half-moon, which was carried in
broad daylight by a detachment of
the oldest of the two companies of
Musketeers.
The siege of the castle next
commenced. The position of the camp was
changed. The King's tents and those of all the Court
were pitched in a
beautiful meadow about five hundred
paces from the monastery of
Marlaigne. The fine weather changed to rain, which fell
with an
abundance and perseverance never
before known by any one in the army.
This circumstance increased the
reputation of Saint Medard, whose fete
falls on the 8th of June. It rained in torrents that day, and it is
said
that when such is the case it will
rain for forty days afterwards. By
chance it happened so this
year. The soldiers in despair at this
deluge
uttered many imprecations against
the Saint; and looked for images of
him, burning and breaking as many as
they could find. The rains sadly
interfered with the progress of the
siege. The tents of the King could
only be communicated with by paths
laid with fascines which required to
be renewed every day, as they sank
down into the soil. The camps and
quarters were no longer accessible;
the trenches were full of mud and
water, and it took often three days
to remove cannon from one battery to
another. The waggons became useless, too, so that the
transport of
bombs, shot, and so forth, could not
be performed except upon the backs
of mules and of horses taken from
the equipages of the Court and the
army. The state of the roads deprived the Duc de
Luxembourg of the use
of waggons and other vehicles. His army was perishing for want of grain.
To remedy this inconvenience the
King ordered all his household troops to
mount every day on horseback by
detachments, and to take sacks of grain
upon their cruppers to a village
where they were to be received and
counted by the officers of the Duc
de Luxembourg. Although the household
of the King had scarcely any repose
during this siege, what with carrying
fascines, furnishing guards, and
other daily services, this increase of
duty was given to it because the
cavalry served continually also, and was
reduced almost entirely to leaves of
trees for provender.
The household of the King,
accustomed to all sorts of distinctions,
complained bitterly of this
task. But the King turned a deaf ear to
them, and would be obeyed. On the first day some of the Gendarmes and of
the light horse of the guard arrived
early in the morning at the depot of
the sacks, and commenced murmuring
and exciting each other by their
discourses. They threw down the sacks at last and flatly
refused to
carry them. I had been asked very politely if I would be
of the
detachment for the sacks or of some
other. I decided for the sacks,
because I felt that I might thereby
advance myself, the subject having
already made much noise. I arrived with the detachment of the
Musketeers
at the moment of the refusal of the
others; and I loaded my sack before
their eyes. Marin, a brigadier of cavalry and lieutenant
of the body
guards, who was there to superintend
the operation, noticed me, and full
of anger at the refusal he had just
met with, exclaimed that as I did not
think such work beneath me, the rest
would do well to imitate my example.
Without a word being spoken each
took up his sack; and from that time
forward no further difficulty
occurred in the matter. As soon as the
detachment had gone, Marin went
straight to the King and told him what
had occurred. This was a service which procured for me
several obliging
discourses from his Majesty, who
during the rest of the siege always
sought to say something agreeable
every time he met me.
The twenty-seventh day after opening
the trenches, that is, the first of
July, 1692, a parley was sounded by
the Prince de Barbanqon, governor of
the place,--a fortunate circumstance
for the besiegers, who were worn
out with fatigue; and destitute of
means, on account of the wretched
weather which still continued, and
which had turned the whole country
round into a quagmire. Even the horses of the King lived upon
leaves,
and not a horse of all our numerous
cavalry ever thoroughly recovered
from the effects of such sorry
fare. It is certain that without the
presence of the King the siege might
never have been successful; but he
being there, everybody was
stimulated. Yet had the place held out
ten
days longer, there is no saying what
might have happened. Before the end
of the siege the King was so much
fatigued with his exertions, that a new
attack of gout came on, with more
pain than ever, and compelled him to
keep his bed, where, however, he
thought of everything, and laid out his
plans as though he had been at
Versailles.
During the entire siege, the Prince
of Orange (William III. of England)
had unavailingly used all his
science to dislodge the Duc de Luxembourg;
but he had to do with a man who in
matters of war was his superior, and
who continued so all his life. Namur, which, by the surrender of the
castle, was now entirely in our
power, was one of the strongest places in
the Low Countries, and had hitherto
boasted of having never changed
masters. The inhabitants could not restrain their
tears of sorrow. Even
the monks of Marlaigne were
profoundly moved, so much so, that they could
not disguise their grief. The King, feeling for the loss of their corn
that they had sent for safety into
Namur, gave them double the quantity,
and abundant alms. He incommoded them as little as possible, and
would
not permit the passage of cannon
across their park, until it was found
impossible to transport it by any
other road. Notwithstanding these acts
of goodness, they could scarcely
look upon a Frenchman after the taking
of the place; and one actually
refused to give a bottle of beer to an
usher of the King's antechamber,
although offered a bottle of champagne
in exchange for it!
A circumstance happened just after
the taking of Namur, which might have
led to the saddest results, under
any other prince than the King. Before
he entered the town, a strict
examination of every place was made,
although by the capitulation all the
mines, magazines, &c., had to be
shown. At a visit paid to the Jesuits, they
pretended to show
everything, expressing, however,
surprise and something more, that their
bare word was not enough. But on examining here and there, where they
did not expect search would be made,
their cellars were found to be
stored with gunpowder, of which they
had taken good care to say no word.
What they meant to do with it is
uncertain. It was carried away, and as
they were Jesuits nothing was done.
During
the course of this siege, the King suffered a cruel
disappointment. James II. of England, then a refugee in
France, had
advised the King to give battle to
the English fleet. Joined to that of
Holland it was very superior to the
sea forces of France. Tourville, our
admiral, so famous for his valour
and skill, pointed this circumstance
out to the King. But it was all to no effect. He was ordered to attack
the enemy. He did so.
Many of his ships were burnt, and the victory was
won by the English. A courier entrusted with this sad
intelligence was
despatched to the King. On his way he was joined by another courier,
who
pressed him for his news. The first courier knew that if he gave up his
news, the other, who was better
mounted, would outstrip him, and be the
first to carry it to the King. He told his companion, therefore, an idle
tale, very different indeed from the
truth, for he changed the defeat
into a great victory. Having gained this wonderful intelligence,
the
second courier put spurs to his
horse, and hurried away to the King's
camp, eager to be the bearer of good
tidings. He reached the camp first,
and was received with delight. While his Majesty was still in great joy
at his happy victory, the other
courier arrived with the real details.
The Court appeared prostrated. The King was much afflicted.
Nevertheless he found means to
appear to retain his self-possession, and
I
saw, for the first time, that Courts are not long in affliction or
occupied with sadness. I must mention that the (exiled) King of
England
looked on at this naval battle from
the shore; and was accused of
allowing expressions of partiality
to escape him in favour of his
countrymen, although none had kept
their promises to him.
Two days after the defeated garrison
had marched out, the King went to
Dinant, to join the ladies, with
whom he returned to Versailles. I had
hoped that Monseigneur would finish
the campaign, and that I should be
with him, and it was not without
regret that I returned towards Paris.
On the way a little circumstance
happened. One of our halting-places was
Marienburgh, where we camped for the
night. I had become united in
friendship with Comte de Coetquen,
who was in the same company with
myself. He was well instructed and full of wit; was
exceedingly rich,
and even more idle than rich. That evening he had invited several of us
to supper in his tent. I went there early, and found him stretched
out
upon his bed, from which I dislodged
him playfully and laid myself down
in his place, several of our
officers standing by. Coetquen, sporting
with me in return, took his gun,
which he thought to be unloaded, and
pointed it at me. But to our great surprise the weapon went
off.
Fortunately for me, I was at that
moment lying flat upon the bed. Three
balls passed just above my head, and
then just above the heads of our two
tutors, who were walking outside the
tent. Coetquen fainted at thought
of the mischief he might have done,
and we had all the pains in the world
to bring him to himself again.
Indeed, he did not thoroughly recover for
several days. I relate this as a lesson which ought to
teach us never
to play with fire-arms.
The poor lad,--to finish at once all
that concerns him,--did not long
survive this incident. He entered the King's regiment, and when just
upon the point of joining it in the
following spring, came to me and said
he had had his fortune told by a
woman named Du Perehoir, who practised
her trade secretly at Paris, and
that she had predicted he would be soon
drowned. I rated him soundly for indulging a curiosity
so dangerous and
so foolish. A few days after he set out for Amiens. He found another
fortune-teller there, a man, who
made the same prediction. In marching
afterwards with the regiment of the
King to join the army, he wished to
water his horse in the Escaut, and
was drowned there, in the presence of
the whole regiment, without it being
possible to give him any aid. I felt
extreme regret for his loss, which
for his friends and his family was
irreparable.
But I must go back a little, and
speak of two marriages that took place
at the commencement of this year the
first (most extraordinary) on the
18th February the other a month
after.
CHAPTER
II.
The King was very anxious to
establish his illegitimate children, whom he
advanced day by day; and had married
two of them, daughters, to Princes
of the blood. One of these, the Princesse de Conti, only
daughter of the
King and Madame de la Valliere, was
a widow without children; the other,
eldest daughter of the King and
Madame de Montespan, had married Monsieur
le Duc (Louis de Bourbon, eldest son
of the Prince de Conde). For some
time past Madame de Maintenon, even
more than the King, had thought of
nothing else than how to raise the
remaining illegitimate children, and
wished to marry Mademoiselle de
Blois (second daughter of the King and of
Madame de Montespan) to Monsieur the
Duc de Chartres. The Duc de
Chartres was the sole nephew of the
King, and was much above the Princes
of the blood by his rank of Grandson
of France, and by the Court that
Monsieur his father kept up.
The marriages of the two Princes of
the blood, of which I have just
spoken, had scandalised all the
world. The King was not ignorant of
this; and he could thus judge of the
effect of a marriage even more
startling; such as was this proposed
one. But for four years he had
turned it over in his mind and had
even taken the first steps to bring it
about. It was the more difficult because the father
of the Duc de
Chartres was infinitely proud of his
rank, and the mother belonged to a
nation which abhorred illegitimacy
and, misalliances, and was indeed of a
character to forbid all hope of her
ever relishing this marriage.
In order to vanquish all these
obstacles, the King applied to M. le Grand
(Louis
de Lorraine). This person was brother of
the Chevalier de
Lorraine, the favourite, by
disgraceful means, of Monsieur, father of the
Duc de Chartres. The two brothers, unscrupulous and corrupt,
entered
willingly into the scheme, but
demanded as a reward, paid in advance, to
be made "Chevaliers of the
Order." This was done, although
somewhat
against the inclination of the King,
and success was promised.
The young Duc de Chartres had at
that time for teacher Dubois (afterwards
the famous Cardinal Dubois), whose
history was singular. He had formerly
been a valet; but displaying unusual
aptitude for learning, had been
instructed by his master in
literature and history, and in due time
passed into the service of Saint
Laurent, who was the Duc de Chartres'
first instructor. He became so useful and showed so much skill,
that
Saint Laurent made him become an
abbe. Thus raised in position, he
passed much time with the Duc de
Chartres, assisting him to prepare his
lessons, to write his exercises, and
to look out words in the dictionary.
I have seen him thus engaged over
and over again, when I used to go and
play with the Duc de Chartres. As Saint Laurent grew infirm, Dubois
little by little supplied his place;
supplied it well too, and yet
pleased the young Duke. When Saint Laurent died Dubois aspired to
succeed him. He had paid his court to the Chevalier de
Lorraine, by
whose influence he was much aided in
obtaining his wish. When at last
appointed successor to Saint
Laurent, I never saw a man so glad, nor with
more reason. The extreme obligation he was under to the
Chevalier de
Lorraine, and still more the
difficulty of maintaining himself in his new
position, attached him more and more
to his protector.
It was, then, Dubois that the
Chevalier de Lorraine made use of to gain
the consent of the young Duc de
Chartres to the marriage proposed by the
King. Dubois had, in fact, gained the Duke's
confidence, which it was
easy to do at that age; had made him
afraid of his father and of the
King;
and, on the other hand, had filled him with fine hopes and
expectations. All that Dubois could do, however, when he
broke the
matter of the marriage to the young
Duke, was to ward off a direct
refusal; but that was sufficient for
the success of the enterprise.
Monsieur was already gained, and as
soon as the King had a reply from
Dubois he hastened to broach the
affair. A day or two before this,
however, Madame (mother of the Duc
de Chartres) had scent of what was
going on. She spoke to her son of the indignity of this
marriage with
that force in which she was never
wanting, and drew from him a promise
that he would not consent to
it. Thus, he was feeble towards his
teacher, feeble towards his mother,
and there was aversion on the one
hand and fear on the other, and
great embarrassment on all sides.
One day early after dinner I saw M.
de Chartres, with a very sad air,
come out of his apartment and enter
the closet of the King. He found his
Majesty alone with Monsieur. The King spoke very obligingly to the Duc
de Chartres, said that he wished to
see him married; that he offered him
his daughter, but that he did not
intend to constrain him in the matter,
but left him quite at liberty. This discourse, however, pronounced with
that terrifying majesty so natural
to the King, and addressed to a timid
young prince, took away his voice,
and quite unnerved him. He, thought
to escape from his slippery position
by throwing himself upon Monsieur
and Madame, and stammeringly replied
that the King was master, but that a
son's will depended upon that of his
parents. "What you say is very
proper," replied the King;
"but as soon as you consent to my proposition
your father and mother will not
oppose it." And then turning to Monsieur
he said, "Is this not true, my
brother? "Monsieur consented, as he
had
already done, and the only person
remaining to consult was Madame, who
was immediately sent for.
As soon as she came, the King,
making her acquainted with his project,
said that he reckoned she would not
oppose what her husband and her son
had already agreed to. Madame, who had counted upon the refusal of
her
son, was tongue-tied. She threw two furious glances upon Monsieur
and
upon the Duc de Chartres, and then
said that, as they wished it, she had
nothing to say, made a slight
reverence, and went away. Her son
immediately followed her to explain
his conduct; but railing against him,
with tears in her eyes, she would
not listen, and drove him from her
room. Her husband, who shortly afterwards joined
her, met with almost
the same treatment.
That evening an
"Apartment" was held at the palace, as was customary
three times a week during the
winter; the other three evenings being set
apart for comedy, and the Sunday
being free. An Apartment as it was
called, was an assemblage of all the
Court in the grand saloon, from
seven o'clock in the evening until
ten, when the King sat down to table;
and, after ten, in one of the
saloons at the end of the grand gallery
towards the tribune of the
chapel. In the first place there was
some
music; then tables were placed all
about for all kinds of gambling; there
was a 'lansquenet'; at which
Monsieur and Monseigneur always played; also
a billiard-table; in a word, every
one was free to play with every one,
and allowed to ask for fresh tables
as all the others were occupied.
Beyond the billiards was a
refreshment-room. All was perfectly
lighted.
At the outset, the King went to the
"apartments" very often and played,
but lately he had ceased to do
so. He spent the evening with Madame de
Maintenon, working with different
ministers one after the other. But
still he wished his courtiers to
attend assiduously.
This evening, directly after the
music had finished, the King sent for
Monseigneur and Monsieur, who were
already playing at 'lansquenet';
Madame, who scarcely looked at a,
party of 'hombre' at which she had
seated herself; the Duc de Chartres,
who, with a rueful visage, was
playing at chess; and Mademoiselle
de Blois, who had scarcely begun to
appear in society, but who this
evening was extraordinarily decked out,
and who, as yet, knew nothing and
suspected nothing; and therefore, being
naturally very timid, and horribly
afraid of the King, believed herself
sent for in order to be reprimanded,
and trembled so that Madame de
Maintenon took her upon her knees,
where she held her, but was scarcely
able to reassure her. The fact of these royal persons being sent
for by
the King at once made people think
that a marriage was in contemplation.
In a few minutes they returned, and
then the announcement was made
public. I arrived at that moment. I found everybody m clusters, and
great astonishment expressed upon
every face. Madame was walking in the
gallery with Chateauthiers--her
favourite, and worthy of being so.
She took long strides, her
handkerchief in her hand, weeping without
constraint, speaking pretty loudly,
gesticulating; and looking like Ceres
after the rape of her daughter
Proserpine, seeking her in fury, and
demanding her back from Jupiter. Every one respectfully made way to let
her pass. Monsieur, who had returned to 'lansquenet',
seemed overwhelmed
with shame, and his son appeared in
despair; and the bride-elect was
marvellously embarrassed and
sad. Though very young, and likely to be
dazzled by such a marriage, she
understood what was passing, and feared
the consequences. Most people appeared full of consternation.
The Apartment, which, however heavy
in appearance, was full of interest
to, me, seemed quite short. It finished by the supper of the King. His
Majesty appeared quite at ease. Madame's eyes were full of tears, which
fell from time to time as she looked
into every face around, as if in
search of all our thoughts. Her son, whose eyes too were red, she would
not give a glance to; nor to
Monsieur: all three ate scarcely anything.
I remarked that the King offered
Madame nearly all the dishes that were
before him, and that she refused
with an air of rudeness which did not,
however, check his politeness. It was furthermore noticeable that, after
leaving the table, he made to Madame
a very marked and very low
reverence, during which she
performed so complete a pirouette, that the
King on raising his head found
nothing but her back before him, removed
about a step further towards the
door.
On the morrow we went as usual to
wait in the gallery for the breaking-up
of the council, and for the King's
Mass. Madame came there. Her son
approached her, as he did every day,
to kiss her hand. At that very
moment she gave him a box on the
ear, so sonorous that it was heard
several steps distant. Such treatment in presence of all the Court
covered with confusion this
unfortunate prince, and overwhelmed the
infinite number of spectators, of
whom I was one, with prodigious
astonishment.
That day the immense dowry was
declared; and on Sunday there was a grand
ball, that is, a ball opened by a
'branle' which settled the order of the
dancing throughout the evening. Monseigneur the Duc de Bourgogne danced
on this occasion for the first time;
and led off the 'branle' with
Mademoiselle. I danced also for the first time at
Court. My partner was
Mademoiselle de Sourches, daughter
of the Grand Prevot; she danced
excellently. I had been that morning to wait on Madame,
who could not
refrain from saying, in a sharp and
angry voice, that I was doubtless
very glad of the promise of so many
balls--that this was natural at my
age; but that, for her part, she was
old, and wished they were well over.
A few days after, the contract of
marriage was signed in the closet of
the King, and in the presence of all
the Court. The same day the
household of the future Duchesse de
Chartres was declared. The King gave
her a first gentleman usher and a
Dame d'Atours, until then reserved to
the daughters of France, and a lady
of honour, in order to carry out
completely so strange a
novelty. I must say something about the
persons
who composed this household.
M. de Villars was gentleman usher;
he was grandson of a recorder of
Coindrieu, and one of the best made
men in France. There was a great
deal of fighting in his young days,
and he had acquired a reputation for
courage and skill. To these qualities he owed his fortune. M. de
Nemours was his first patron, and,
in a duel which he had with M. de
Beaufort, took Villars for
second. M. de Nemours was killed; but
Villars
was victorious against his
adversary, anal passed into the service of the
Prince de Conti as one of his
gentlemen. He succeeded in gaining
confidence in his new employment; so
much so, that the marriage which
afterwards took place between the
Prince de Conti and the niece of
Cardinal Mazarin was brought about
in part by his assistance. He became
the confidant of the married pair,
and their bond: of union with the
Cardinal. His position gave him an opportunity of
mixing in society much
above him; but on this he never
presumed. His face was his, passport
with the ladies: he was gallant,
even discreet; and this means was not
unuseful to him. He pleased Madame Scarron, who upon the
throne never
forgot the friendships of this kind,
so freely intimate, which she had
formed as a private person. Villars was employed in diplomacy; and from
honour to honour, at last reached
the order of the Saint Esprit, in 1698.
His wife was full of wit, and
scandalously inclined. Both were very
poor--and always dangled about the
Court, where they had many powerful
friends.
The Marechale de Rochefort was lady
of honour. She was of the house of
Montmorency--a
widow--handsome--sprightly; formed by nature to live at
Court--apt for gallantry and
intrigues; full of worldly cleverness, from
living much in the world, with
little cleverness of any other kind,
nearly enough for any post and any
business. M. de Louvois found her
suited to his taste, and she
accommodated herself very well to his purse,
and to the display she made by this
intimacy. She always became the
friend of every new mistress of the
King; and when he favoured Madame de
Soubise, it was at the Marechale's
house that she waited, with closed
doors, for Bontems, the King's
valet, who led her by private ways to his
Majesty. The Marechale herself has related to me how
one day she was
embarrassed to get rid of the people
that Madame de Soubise (who had not
had time to announce her arrival)
found at her house; and how she most
died of fright lest Bontems should
return and the interview be broken off
if he arrived before the company had
departed. The Marechale de
Rochefort was in this way the friend
of Mesdames de la Valliere, de
Montespan, and de Soubise; and she
became the friend of Madame de
Maintenon, to whom she attached
herself in proportion as she saw her
favour increase. She had, at the marriage of Monseigneur, been
made Dame
d'Atours to the new Dauphiness; and,
if people were astonished at that,
they were also astonished to see her
lady of honour to an "illegitimate
grand-daughter of France."
The Comtesse de Mailly was Dame
d'Atours. She was related to Madame de
Maintenon, to whose favour she owed
her marriage with the Comte de
Mailly. She had come to Paris with all her provincial
awkwardness, and,
from want of wit, had never been
able to get rid of it. On the contrary,
she grafted thereon an immense
conceit, caused by the favour of Madame de
Maintenon. To complete the household, came M. de
Fontaine-Martel, poor
and gouty, who was first master of
the horse.
On the Monday before Shrove Tuesday,
all the marriage party and the bride
and bridegroom, superbly dressed,
repaired, a little before mid-day, to
the closet of the King, and
afterwards to the chapel. It was
arranged,
as usual, for the Mass of the King,
excepting that between his place and
the altar were two cushions for the
bride and bridegroom, who turned
their backs to the King. Cardinal de Bouillon, in full robes, married
them, and said Mass. From the chapel all the company went to
table: it
was of horse-shoe shape. The Princes and Princesses of the blood were
placed at the right and at the left,
according to their rank, terminated
by the two illegitimate children of
the King, and, for the first time,
after them, the Duchesse de
Verneuil; so that M. de Verneuil,
illegitimate son of Henry IV.,
became thus "Prince of the blood" so many
years after his death, without
having ever suspected it. The Duc d'Uzes
thought this so amusing that he
marched in front of the Duchess, crying
out, as loud as he
could--"Place, place for Madame Charlotte Seguier!"
In the afternoon the King and Queen
of England came to Versailles with
their Court. There was a great concert; and the
play-tables were set
out.
The supper was similar to the dinner.
Afterwards the married
couple were led into the apartment
of the new Duchesse de Chartres. The
Queen of England gave the Duchess
her chemise; and the shirt of the Duke
was given to him by the King, who
had at first refused on the plea that
he was in too unhappy
circumstances. The benediction of the
bed was
pronounced by the Cardinal de
Bouillon, who kept us all waiting for a
quarter of an hour; which made
people say that such airs little became a
man returned as he was from a long exile,
to which he had been sent
because he had had the madness to
refuse the nuptial benediction to
Madame la Duchesse unless admitted
to the royal banquet.
On Shrove Tuesday, there was a grand
toilette of the Duchesse de
Chartres, to which the King and all
the Court came; and in the evening a
grand ball, similar to that which
had just taken place, except that the
new Duchesse de Chartres was led out
by the Duc de Bourgogne. Every one
wore the same dress, and had the
same partner as before.
I cannot pass over in silence a very
ridiculous adventure which occurred
at both of these balls. A son of Montbron, no more made to dance at
Court than his father was to be
chevalier of the order (to which however,
he was promoted in 1688), was among
the company. He had been asked if he
danced well; and he had replied with
a confidence which made every one
hope that the contrary was the
case. Every one was satisfied. From the
very first bow, he became confused,
and he lost step at once. He tried
to divert attention from his mistake
by affected attitudes, and carrying
his arms high; but this made him
only more ridiculous, and excited bursts
of laughter, which, in despite of
the respect due to the person of the
King (who likewise had great
difficulty to hinder himself from laughing),
degenerated at length into regular
hooting. On the morrow, instead of
flying the Court or holding his
tongue, he excused himself by saying that
the presence of the King had
disconcerted him; and promised marvels for
the ball which was to follow. He was one of my friends, and I felt for
him, I should even have warned him
against a second attempt, if the very
indifferent success I had met with
had not made me fear that my advice
would be taken in ill part. As soon as he began to dance at the second
ball, those who were near stood up,
those who were far off climbed
wherever they could get a sight; and
the, shouts of laughter were mingled
with clapping of hands. Every one, even the King himself, laughed
heartily, and most of us quite loud,
so that I do not think any one was
ever treated so before. Montbron disappeared immediately afterwards,
and
did not show himself again for a
long time, It was a pity he exposed
himself to this defeat, for he was
an honourable and brave man.
Ash Wednesday put an end to all
these sad rejoicings by command, and only
the expected rejoicings were spoken
of. M. du Maine wished to marry.
The King tried to turn him from it,
and said frankly to him, that it was
not for such as he to make a
lineage. But pressed M. by Madame de
Maintenon, who had educated Maine;
and who felt for him as a nurse the
King resolved to marry him to a
daughter of the Prince de Conde. The
Prince was greatly pleased at the
project. He had three daughters for
M. du Maine to choose from: all
three were extremely little. An inch of
height, that the second had above
the others, procured for her the
preference, much to the grief of the
eldest, who was beautiful and
clever, and who dearly wished to
escape from the slavery in which her
father kept her. The dignity with which she bore her
disappointment was
admired by every one, but it cost
her an effort that ruined her health.
The marriage once arranged, was
celebrated on the 19th of March; much in
the same manner as had been that of
the Duc de Chartres. Madame de
Saint-Vallery was appointed lady of
honour to Madame du Maine, and M. de
Montchevreuil gentleman of the
chamber. This last had been one of the
friends of Madame de Maintenon when
she was Madame Scarron.
Montchevreuil was a very honest man,
modest, brave, but thick-headed.
His wife was a tall creature,
meagre, and yellow, who laughed sillily,
and showed long and ugly teeth; who
was extremely devout, of a compassed
mien, and who only wanted a
broomstick to be a perfect witch.
Without
possessing any wit, she had so
captivated Madame de Maintenon, that the
latter saw only with her eyes. All the ladies of the Court were under
her surveillance: they depended upon
her for their distinctions, and
often for their fortunes. Everybody, from the ministers to the
daughters
of the King, trembled before
her. The King himself showed her the
most
marked consideration. She was of all the Court journeys, and always
with
Madame de Maintenon.
The marriage of M. du Maine caused a
rupture between the Princess de
Conde and the Duchess of Hanover her
sister, who had strongly desired
M. du Maine for one of her
daughters, and who pretended that the Prince
de Conde had cut the grass from
under her feet. She lived in Paris,
making a display quite unsuited to her
rank, and had even carried it so
far as to go about with two coaches
and many liveried servants. With
this state one day she met in the
streets the coach of Madame de
Bouillon, which the servants of the
German woman forced to give way to
their mistress's. The Bouillons, piqued to excess, resolved to
be
revenged. One day, when they knew the Duchess was going
to the play,
they went there attended by a
numerous livery. Their servants had
orders
to pick a quarrel with those of the
Duchess. They executed these orders
completely; the servants of the
Duchess were thoroughly thrashed--the
harness of her horses cut--her
coaches maltreated. The Duchess made a
great fuss, and complained to the
King, but he would not mix himself in
the matter. She was so outraged, that she resolved to
retire into
Germany, and in a very few months
did so.
My year of service in the Musketeers
being over, the King, after a time,
gave me, without purchase, a company
of cavalry in the Royal Roussillon,
in garrison at Mons, and just then
very incomplete. I thanked the King,
who replied to me very
obligingly. The company was entirely
made up in a
fortnight. This was towards the middle of April.
A little before, that is, on the
27th of March, the King made seven new
marechals of France. They were the Comte de Choiseul, the Duc de
Villeroy, the Marquis de Joyeuse,
Tourville, the Duc de Noailles, the
Marquis de Boufllers, and
Catinat. These promotions caused very
great
discontent. Complaint was more especially made that the
Duc de Choiseul
had not been named. The cause of his exclusion is curious. His wife,
beautiful, with the form of a
goddess--notorious for the number of her
gallantries--was very intimate with
the Princess de Conti. The King, not
liking such a companion for his
daughter, gave the Duc de Choiseul to
understand that the public disorders
of the Duchess offended him. If the
Duke would send her into a convent,
the Marechal's baton would be his.
The Duc de Choiseul, indignant that
the reward of his services in the war
was attached to a domestic affair
which concerned himself alone, refused
promotion on such terms. He thus lost the baton; and, what was worse
for
him, the Duchess soon after was
driven from Court, and so misbehaved
herself, that at last he could
endure her no longer, drove her away
himself, and separated from her for
ever.
Mademoiselle la grande Mademoiselle,
as she was called, to distinguish
her from the daughter of
Monsieur--or to call her by her name,
Mademoiselle de Montpensier, died on
Sunday the 5th of April, at her
palace in the Luxembourg,
sixty-three years of age, and the richest
private princess in Europe. She interested herself much in those who
were related to her, even to the
lowest degree, and wore mourning for
them, however far removed. It is well known, from all the memoirs of the
time, that she was greatly in love
with M. de Lauzun, and that she
suffered much when the King withheld
his permission to their marriage.
M. de Lauzun was so enraged, that he
could not contain himself, and at
last went so far beyond bounds, that
he was sent prisoner to Pignerol,
where he remained, extremely
ill-treated, for ten years. The
affection
of Mademoiselle did not grow cold by
separation. The King profited by
it, to make M. de Lauzun buy his
liberty at her expense, and thus
enriched M. du Maine. He always gave out that he had married
Mademoiselle, and appeared before
the King, after her death, in a long
cloak, which gave great
displeasure. He also assumed ever
afterwards a
dark brown livery, as an external
expression of his grief for
Mademoiselle, of whom he had
portraits everywhere. As for
Mademoiselle,
the King never quite forgave her the
day of Saint Antoine; and I heard
him once at supper reproach her in
jest, for having fired the cannons of
the Bastille upon his troops. She was a little embarrassed, but she got
out of the difficulty very well.
Her body was laid out with great
state, watched for several days, two
hours at a time, by a duchess or a
princess, and by two ladies of
quality. The Comtesse de Soissons refused to take part
in this watching,
and would not obey until the King
threatened to dismiss her from the
Court. A very ridiculous accident happened in the
midst of this
ceremony. The urn containing the entrails fell over,
with a frightful
noise and a stink sudden and
intolerable. The ladies, the heralds,
the
psalmodists, everybody present fled,
in confusion. Every one tried to
gain the door first. The entrails had been badly embalmed, and it
was
their fermentation which caused the
accident. They were soon perfumed
and put in order, and everybody
laughed at this mishap. These entrails
were in the end carried to the
Celestins, the heart to Val de Grace, and
the body to the Cathedral of Saint
Denis, followed by a numerous company.
CHAPTER
III
On May 3d 1693, the King announced
his intention of placing himself at
the head of his army in Flanders,
and, having made certain alterations in
the rule of precedence of the
marechale of France, soon after began the
campaign. I have here, however, to draw attention to my
private affairs,
for on the above-mentioned day, at
ten o'clock in the morning, I had the
misfortune to lose my father. He was eighty-seven years of age, and had
been in bad health for some time,
with a touch of gout during the last
three weeks. On the day in question he had dined as usual
with his
friends, had retired to bed, and,
while talking to those around him
there, all at once gave three
violent sighs. He was dead almost before
it was perceived that he was ill;
there was no more oil in the lamp.
I learned this sad news after seeing
the King to bed; his Majesty was to
purge himself on the morrow. The night was given to the just sentiments
of nature; but the next day I went
early to visit Bontems, and then the
Duc de Beauvilliers, who promised to
ask the King, as soon as his
curtains were opened, to grant me
the--offices my father had held. The
King very graciously complied with
his request, and in the afternoon said
many obliging things to me,
particularly expressing his regret that my
father had not been able to receive
the last sacraments. I was able to
say that a very short time before,
my father had retired for several days
to Saint Lazare, where was his
confessor, and added something on the
piety of his life. The King exhorted me to behave well, and
promised to
take care of me. When my father was first taken ill; several
persons,
amongst others, D'Aubigne, brother
of Madame de Maintenon, had asked for
the governorship of Blaye. But the King refused them all, and said very
bluntly to D'Aubigne, "Is there
not a son?" He had, in fact, always
given my father to understand I
should succeed him, although generally he
did not allow offices to descend
from father to son.
Let me say a few words about my
father. Our family in my grandfather's
time had become impoverished; and my
father was early sent to the Court
as page to Louis XIII. It was very customary then for the sons of
reduced gentlemen to accept this
occupation. The King was passionately
fond of hunting, an amusement that
was carried on with far less state,
without that abundance of dogs, and
followers, and convenience of all
kinds which his successor
introduced, and especially without roads
through the forests. My father, who noticed the impatience of the King
at the delays that occurred in
changing horses, thought of turning the
head of the horse he brought towards
the crupper of that which the King
quitted. By this means, without putting his feet to
the ground, his
Majesty, who was active, jumped from
one horse to another. He was so
pleased that whenever he changed
horses he asked for this same page.
From that time my father grew day by
day in favour. The King made him
Chief Ecuyer, and in course of years
bestowed other rewards upon him,
created him Duke and peer of France,
and gave him the Government of
Blaye. My father, much attached to the King,
followed him in all his
expeditions, several times commanded
the cavalry of the army, was
commander-in-chief of all the
arrierebans of the kingdom, and acquired
great reputation in the field for
his valour and skill. With Cardinal
Richelieu he was intimate without
sympathy, and more than once, but
notably on the famous Day of the
Dupes, rendered signal service to that
minister. My father used often to be startled out of
his sleep in the
middle of the night by a valet, with
a taper in his hand, drawing the
curtain--having behind him the
Cardinal de Richelieu, who would often
take the taper and sit down upon the
bed and exclaim that he was a lost
man, and ask my father's advice upon
news that he had received or on
quarrels he had had with the
King. When all Paris was in
consternation
at the success of the Spaniards, who
had crossed the frontier, taken
Corbie, and seized all the country
as far as Compiegne, the King insisted
on my father being present at the
council which was then held. The
Cardinal de Richelieu maintained
that the King should retreat beyond the
Seine, and all the assembly seemed
of that opinion. But the King in a
speech which lasted a quarter of an
hour opposed this, and said that to
retreat at such a moment would be to
increase the general disorder. Then
turning to my father he ordered him
to be prepared to depart for Corbie
on the morrow, with as many of his
men as he could get ready. The
histories and the memoirs of the
time show that this bold step saved the
state. The Cardinal, great man as he was, trembled,
until the first
appearance of success, when he grew
bold enough to join the King. This
is a specimen of the conduct of that
weak King governed by that first
minister to whom poets and
historians have given the glory they have
stripped from his master; as, for
instance, all the works of the siege of
Rochelle, and the invention and
unheard-of success of the celebrated
dyke, all solely due to the late
King!
Louis XIII. loved my father; but he
could scold him at times. On two
occasions he did so. The first, as my father has related to me,
was on
account of the Duc de
Bellegarde. The Duke was in disgrace,
and had been
exiled. My father, who was a friend of his, wished to
write to him one
day, and for want of other leisure,
being then much occupied, took the
opportunity of the King's momentary
absence to carry out his desire.
Just as he was finishing his letter,
the King came in; my father tried to
hide the paper, but the eyes of the
King were too quick for him. "What
is that paper?" said he.
My father, embarrassed, admitted that it was a
few words he had written to M. de
Bellegarde.
"Let me see it," said the
King; and he took the paper and read it.
"I don't find fault with
you," said he, "for writing to your friends,
although in disgrace, for I know you
will write nothing improper; but
what displeases me is, that you
should fail in the respect you owe to a
duke and peer, in that, because he
is exiled, you should omit to address
him as Monseigneur;" and then
tearing the letter in two, he added, "Write
it again after the hunt, and put,
Monseigneur, as you ought." My
father
was very glad to be let off so
easily.
The other reprimand was upon a more
serious subject. The King was really
enamoured of Mademoiselle
d'Hautefort. My father, young and
gallant,
could not comprehend why he did not
gratify his love. He believed his
reserve to arise from timidity, and
under this impression proposed one
day to the King to be his ambassador
and to bring the affair to a
satisfactory conclusion. The King allowed him to speak to the end, and
then assumed a severe air. "It is true," said he, "that I
am enamoured
of her, that I feel it, that I seek
her, that I speak of her willingly,
and think of her still more
willingly; it is true also that I act thus in
spite of myself, because I am mortal
and have this weakness; but the more
facility I have as King to gratify
myself, the more I ought to be on my
guard against sin and scandal. I pardon you this time, but never address
to me a similar discourse again if
you wish that I should continue to
love you." This was a thunderbolt for my father; the
scales fell from
his eyes; the idea of the King's
timidity in love disappeared before the
display of a virtue so pure and so
triumphant.
My father's career was for a long
time very successful, but unfortunately
he had an enemy who brought it to an
end. This enemy was M. de Chavigny:
he was secretary of state, and had
also the war department. Either from
stupidity or malice he had left all
the towns in Picardy badly supported;
a circumstance the Spaniards knew
well how to profit by when they took
Corbie in 1636. My father had an uncle who commanded in one
of these
towns, La Capelle, and who had
several times asked for ammunition and
stores without success. My father spoke upon this subject to
Chavigny,
to the Cardinal de Richelieu, and to
the King, but with no good effect.
La Capelle, left without resources,
fell like the places around. As I
have said before, Louis XIII. did
not long allow the Spaniards to enjoy
the advantages they had gained. All the towns in Picardy were soon
retaken, and the King, urged on by
Chavigny, determined to punish the
governors of these places for
surrendering them so easily. My father's
uncle was included with the
others. This injustice was not to be
borne.
My father represented the real state
of the case and used every effort,
to save his uncle, but it was in
vain. Stung to the quick he demanded
permission to retire, and was
allowed to do so. Accordingly, at the
commencement of 1637, he left for
Blaye; and remained there until the
death of Cardinal Richelieu. During this retirement the King frequently
wrote to him, in a language they had
composed so as to speak before
people without being understood; and
I possess still many of these
letters, with much regret that I am
ignorant of their contents.
Chavigny served my father another
ill turn. At the Cardinal's death my
father had returned to the Court and
was in greater favour than ever.
Just before Louis XIII. died he gave
my father the place of first master
of the horse, but left his name
blank in the paper fixing the
appointment. The paper was given into the hands of
Chavigny. At the
King's death he had the villainy, in
concert with the Queen-regent, to
fill in the name of Comte
d'Harcourt, instead of that the King had
instructed him of. The indignation of my father was great, but,
as he
could obtain no redress, he retired
once again to his Government of
Blaye. Notwithstanding the manner in which he had
been treated by the
Queen-regent, he stoutly defended
her cause when the civil war broke out,
led by M. le Prince. He garrisoned Blaye at his own expense,
incurring
thereby debts which hung upon him
all his life, and which I feel the
effects of still, and repulsed all
attempts of friends to corrupt his
loyalty. The Queen and Mazarin could not close their
eyes to his
devotion, and offered him, while the
war was still going on, a marechal's
baton, or the title of foreign
prince. But he refused both, and the
offer was not renewed when the war
ended. These disturbances over, and
Louis XIV. being married, my father
came again to Paris, where he had
many friends. He had married in 1644, and had had, as I
have said, one
only daughter. His wife dying in 1670, and leaving him
without male
children, he determined, however
much he might be afflicted at the loss
he had sustained, to marry again,
although old. He carried out his
resolution in October of the same
year, and was very pleased with the
choice he had made. He liked his new wife so much, in fact, that
when
Madame de Montespan obtained for her
a place at the Court, he declined it
at once. At his age--it was thus he wrote to Madame de
Montespan, he had
taken a wife not for the Court, but
for himself. My mother, who was
absent when the letter announcing
the appointment was sent, felt much
regret, but never showed it.
Before I finish this account of my
father, I will here relate adventures
which happened to him, and which I
ought to have placed before his second
marriage. A disagreement arose between my father and M.
de Vardes, and
still existed long after everybody
thought they were reconciled. It was
ultimately agreed that upon an early
day, at about twelve o'clock, they
should meet at the Porte St. Honore,
then a very deserted spot, and that
the coach of M. de Vardes should run
against my father's, and a general
quarrel arise between masters and
servants. Under cover of this quarrel,
a duel could easily take place, and
would seem simply to arise out of the
broil there and then
occasioned. On the morning appointed, my
father
called as usual upon several of his
friends, and, taking one of them for
second, went to the Porte St. Honore. There everything fell out just as
had been arranged. The coach of M. de Vardes struck against the
other.
My father leaped out, M. de Vardes
did the same, and the duel took place.
M. de Vardes fell, and was
disarmed. My father wished to make him beg
for his life; he would not do this,
but confessed himself vanquished.
My
father's coach being the nearest, M. de Vardes got into it. He
fainted on the road. They separated afterwards like brave people,
and
went their way. Madame de Chatillon, since of Mecklenburg,
lodged in one
of the last houses near the Porte
St. Honore, and at the noise made by
the coaches, put, her head to the
window, and coolly looked at the whole
of the combat. It soon made a great noise. My father was complimented
everywhere. M. de Vardes was sent for ten or twelve days
to the
Bastille. My father and he afterwards became completely
reconciled to
each other.
The other adventure was of gentler
ending. The Memoirs of M. de la
Rochefoucauld appeared. They contained certain atrocious and false
statements against my father, who so
severely resented the calumny, that
he seized a pen, and wrote upon the
margin of the book, "The author has
told a lie." Not content with this, he went to the
bookseller, whom he
discovered with some difficulty, for
the book was not sold publicly at
first. He asked to see all the copies of the work,
prayed, promised,
threatened, and at last succeeded in
obtaining them. Then he took a pen
and wrote in all of them the same
marginal note. The astonishment of the
bookseller may be imagined. He was not long in letting M. de la
Rochefoucauld know what had happened
to his books: it may well be
believed that he also was
astonished. This affair made great
noise. My
father, having truth on his side,
wished to obtain public satisfaction
from M. de la Rochefoucauld. Friends, however, interposed, and the
matter was allowed to drop. But M. de la Rochefoucauld never pardoned my
father; so true it is that we less
easily forget the injuries we inflict
than those that we receive.
My father passed the rest of his
long life surrounded by friends, and
held in high esteem by the King and
his ministers. His advice was often
sought for by them, and was always
acted upon. He never consoled himself
for the loss of Louis XIII., to whom
he owed his advancement and his
fortune. Every year he kept sacred the day of his
death, going to Saint-
Denis, or holding solemnities in his
own house if at Blaye. Veneration,
gratitude, tenderness, ever adorned
his lips every time he spoke of that
monarch.
CHAPTER
IV
After having paid the last duties to
my father I betook myself to Mons to
join the Royal Roussillon cavalry
regiment, in which I was captain. The
King, after stopping eight or ten
days with the ladies at Quesnoy, sent
them to Namur, and put himself at
the head of the army of M. de
Boufflers, and camped at Gembloux,
so that his left was only half a
league distant from the right of M.
de Luxembourg. The Prince of Orange
was encamped at the Abbey of Pure,
was unable to receive supplies, and
could not leave his position without
having the two armies of the King to
grapple with: he entrenched himself
in haste, and bitterly repented
having allowed himself to be thus
driven into a corner. We knew
afterwards that he wrote several
times to his intimate friend the Prince
de Vaudemont, saying that he was
lost, and that nothing short of a
miracle could save him.
We were in this position, with an
army in every way infinitely superior
to that of the Prince of Orange, and
with four whole months before us to
profit by our strength, when the
King declared on the 8th of June that he
should return to Versailles, and
sent off a large detachment of the army
into Germany. The surprise of the Marechal de Luxembourg
was without
bounds. He represented the facility with which the
Prince of Orange
might now be beaten with one army
and pursued by another; and how
important it was to draw off
detachments of the Imperial forces from
Germany into Flanders, and how, by
sending an army into Flanders instead
of Germany, the whole of the Low
Countries would be in our power. But
the King would not change his plans,
although M. de Luxembourg went down
on his knees and begged him not to
allow such a glorious opportunity to
escape. Madame de Maintenon, by her tears when she
parted from his
Majesty, and by her letters since,
had brought about this resolution.
The news had not spread on the
morrow, June 9th. I chanced to go alone
to the quarters of M. de Luxembourg,
and was surprised to find not a soul
there; every one had gone to the
King's army. Pensively bringing my
horse to a stand, I was ruminating
on a fact so strange, and debating
whether I should return to my tent
or push on to the royal camp, when up
came M. le Prince de Conti with a
single page and a groom leading a
horse. "What are you doing there?" cried
he, laughing at my surprise.
Thereupon he told me he was going to
say adieu to the King, and advised
me to do likewise. "What do you mean by saying
Adieu?" answered I.
He sent his servants to a little
distance, and begged me to do the same,
and with shouts of laughter told me
about the King's retreat, making
tremendous fun of him, despite my
youth, for he had confidence in me.
I was astonished. We soon after met the whole company coming
back;
and the great people went aside to
talk and sneer. I then proceeded to
pay my respects to the King, by whom
I was honourably received.
Surprise, however, was expressed by
all faces, and indignation by some.
The effect of the King's retreat,
indeed, was incredible, even amongst
the soldiers and the people. The general officers could not keep silent
upon it, and the inferior officers
spoke loudly, with a license that
could not be restrained. All through the army, in the towns, and even
at
Court, it was talked about
openly. The courtiers, generally so glad
to
find themselves again at Versailles,
now declared that they were ashamed
to be there; as for the enemy, they
could not contain their surprise and
joy.
The Prince of Orange said that the retreat was a miracle he could
not have hoped for; that he could
scarcely believe in it, but that it had
saved his army, and the whole of the
Low Countries. In the midst of all
this excitement the King arrived
with the ladies, on the 25th of June, at
Versailles.
We gained some successes, however,
this year. Marechal de Villeroy took
Huy in three days, losing only a
sub-engineer and some soldiers. On the
29th of July we attacked at dawn the
Prince of Orange at Neerwinden, and
after twelve hours of hard fighting,
under a blazing sun, entirely routed
him.
I was of the third squadron of the Royal Roussillon, and made five
charges. One of the gold ornaments of my coat was torn
away, but I
received no wound. During the battle our brigadier, Quoadt, was
killed
before my eyes. The Duc de Feuillade became thus commander of
the
brigade. We missed him immediately, and for more than
half an hour saw
nothing of him; he had gone to make
his toilette. When he returned he
was powdered and decked out in a
fine red surtotxt, embroidered with
silver, and all his trappings and
those of his horse were magnificent; he
acquitted himself with distinction.
Our cavalry stood so well against
the fire from the enemy's guns, that
the Prince of Orange lost all
patience, and turning away, exclaimed--
"Oh, the insolent
nation!" He fought until the last,
and retired with
the Elector of Hanover only when he
saw there was no longer any hope.
After the battle my people brought
us a leg of mutton and a bottle of
wine, which they had wisely saved from
the previous evening, and we
attacked them in good earnest, as
may be believed.
The enemy lost about twenty thousand
men, including a large number of
officers; our loss was not more than
half that number. We took all their
cannon, eight mortars, many artillery
waggons, a quantity of standards,
and some pairs of kettle-drums. The victory was complete.
Meanwhile, the army which had been
sent to Germany under the command of
Monseigneur and of the Marechal de
Lorges, did little or nothing. The
Marechal wished to attack Heilbronn,
but Monseigneur was opposed to it;
and, to the great regret of the
principal generals and of the troops, the
attack was not made. Monseigneur returned early to Versailles.
At sea we were more active. The rich merchant fleet of Smyrna was
attacked by Tourville; fifty vessels
were burnt or sunk, and twenty-seven
taken, all richly freighted. This campaign cost the English and Dutch
dear. It is believed their loss was more than
thirty millions of ecus.
The
season finished with the taking of Charleroy.
On the 16th of
September the Marechal de Villeroy,
supported by M. de Luxembourg, laid
siege to it, and on the 11th of
October, after a good defence, the place
capitulated. Our loss was very slight. Charleroy taken, our troops went
into winter-quarters, and I returned
to Court, like the rest. The roads
and the posting service were in
great disorder. Amongst other adventures
I met with, I was driven by a deaf
and dumb postillion, who stuck me fast
in the mud when near Quesnoy. At Pont Saint-Maxence all the horses were
retained by M. de Luxembourg. Fearing I might be left behind, I told the
postmaster that I was governor
(which was true), and that I would put him
in jail if he did not give me
horses. I should have been sadly puzzled
how to do it; but he was simple
enough to believe me, and gave the
horses. I arrived, however, at last at Paris, and
found a change at the
Court, which surprised me.
Daquin--first doctor of the King and
creature of Madame de Montespan--had
lost nothing of his credit by her
removal, but had never been able to get
on well with Madame de Maintenon,
who looked coldly upon all the friends
of her predecessor. Daquin had a son, an abbe, and wearied the
King with
solicitations on his behalf. Madame de Maintenon seized the opportunity,
when the King was more than usually
angry with Daquin, to obtain his
dismissal: it came upon him like a
thunderbolt. On the previous evening
the King had spoken to him for a
long time as usual, and had never
treated him better. All the Court was astonished also. Fagon, a very
skilful and learned man, was
appointed in his place at the instance of
Madame de Maintenon.
Another event excited less surprise
than interest. On Sunday, the 29th
of November, the King learned that La
Vauguyon had killed himself in his
bed, that morning, by firing twice
into his throat. I must say a few
words about this Vauguyon. He was one of the pettiest and poorest
gentlemen of France: he was
well-made, but very swarthy, with Spanish
features, had a charming voice,
played the guitar and lute very well, and
was skilled in the arts of
gallantry. By these talents he had
succeeded,
in finding favour with Madame de
Beauvais, much regarded at the Court as
having been the King's first
mistress. I have seen her--old,
blear-eyed,
and half blind,--at the toilette of
the Dauphiness of Bavaria, where
everybody courted her, because she
was still much considered by the King.
Under this protection La Vauguyon
succeeded well; was several times sent
as ambassador to foreign countries;
was made councillor of state, and to
the scandal of everybody, was raised
to the Order in 1688. Of late
years, having no appointments, he
had scarcely the means of living, and
endeavoured, but without success, to
improve his condition.
Poverty by degrees turned his brain;
but a long time passed before it was
perceived. The first proof that he gave of it was at the
house of Madame
Pelot, widow of the Chief President
of the Rouen parliament. Playing at
brelan one evening, she offered him
a stake, and because he would not
accept it bantered him, and
playfully called him a poltroon. He said
nothing, but waited until all the
rest of the company had left the room;
and when he found himself alone with
Madame Pelot, he bolted the door,
clapped his hat on his head, drove
her up against the chimney, and
holding her head between his two
fists, said he knew no reason why he
should not pound it into a jelly, in
order to teach her to call him
poltroon again. The poor woman was horribly frightened, and
made
perpendicular curtseys between his
two fists, and all sorts of excuses.
At last he let her go, more dead
than alive. She had the generosity to
say no syllable of this occurrence
until after his death; she even
allowed him to come to the house as
usual, but took care never to be
alone with him.
One day, a long time after this,
meeting, in a gallery, at Fontainebleau,
M. de Courtenay, La Vauguyon drew
his sword, and compelled the other to
draw also, although there had never
been the slightest quarrel between
them. They were soon separated and La Vauguyon
immediately fled to the
King, who was just then in his
private closet, where nobody ever entered
unless expressly summoned. But La Vauguyon turned the key, and, in spite
of the usher on guard, forced his
way in. The King in great emotion
asked him what was the matter. La Vauguyon on his knees said he had been
insulted by M. de Courtenay and
demanded pardon for having drawn his
sword in the palace. His Majesty, promising to examine the matter,
with
great trouble got rid of La
Vauguyon. As nothing could be made of
it, M.
de Courtenay declaring he had been
insulted by La Vauguyon and forced to
draw his sword, and the other
telling the same tale, both were sent to
the Bastille. After a short imprisonment they were
released, and
appeared at the Court as usual.
Another adventure, which succeeded
this, threw some light upon the state
of affairs. Going to Versailles, one day, La Vauguyon met
a groom of the
Prince de Conde leading a saddled
horse, he stopped the man, descended
from his coach, asked whom the horse
belonged to, said that the Prince
would not object to his riding it,
and leaping upon the animal's back,
galloped off. The groom, all amazed, followed him. La Vauguyon rode on
until he reached the Bastille,
descended there, gave a gratuity to the
man, and dismissed him: he then went
straight to the governor of the
prison, said he had had the
misfortune to displease the King, and begged
to be confined there. The governor, having no orders to do so,
refused;
and sent off an express for
instructions how to act. In reply he was
told not to receive La Vauguyon,
whom at last, after great difficulty, he
prevailed upon to go away. This occurrence made great noise. Yet even
afterwards the King continued to
receive La Vauguyon at the Court, and to
affect to treat him well, although
everybody else avoided him and was
afraid of him. His poor wife became so affected by these
public
derangements, that she retired from
Paris, and shortly afterwards died.
This completed her husband's
madness; he survived her only a month, dying
by his own hand, as I have
mentioned. During the last two years of
his
life he carried pistols in his
carriage, and frequently pointed them at
his coachman and postilion. It is certain that without the assistance of
M. de Beauvais he would often have
been brought to the last extremities.
Beauvais frequently spoke of him to
the King; and it is inconceivable
that having raised this man to such
a point; and having always shown him
particular kindness, his Majesty
should perseveringly have left him to
die of hunger and become mad from
misery.
The
year finished without any remarkable occurrence.
My mother; who had been much
disquieted for me during the campaign,
desired strongly that I should not
make another without being married.
Although very young, I had no
repugnance to marry, but wished to do so
according to my own
inclinations. With a large establishment
I felt very
lonely in a country where credit and
consideration do more than all the
rest. Without uncle, aunt, cousins-German, or near
relatives, I found
myself, I say, extremely solitary.
Among my best friends, as he had
been the friend of my father; was the
Duc de Beauvilliers. He had always shown me much affection, and I
felt a
great desire to unite myself to his
family: My mother approved of my
inclination, and gave me an exact
account of my estates and possessions.
I carried it to Versailles, and
sought a private interview with M. de
Beauvilliers. At eight o'clock the same evening he received
me alone in
the cabinet of Madame de
Beauvilliers. After making my
compliments to
him, I told him my wish, showed him
the state of my affairs, and said
that all I demanded of him was one
of his daughters in marriage, and that
whatever contract he thought fit to
draw up would be signed by my mother
and myself without examination.
The Duke, who had fixed his eyes
upon me all this time, replied like a
man penetrated with gratitude by the
offer I had made. He said, that of
his eight daughters the eldest was
between fourteen and fifteen years
old; the second much deformed, and
in no way marriageable; the third
between twelve and thirteen years of
age, and the rest were children: the
eldest wished to enter a convent,
and had shown herself firm upon that
point. He seemed inclined to make a difficulty of
his want of fortune;
but, reminding him of the
proposition I had made, I said that it was not
for fortune I had come to him, not
even for his daughter, whom I had
never seen; that it was he and
Madame de Beauvilliers who had charmed me,
and whom I wished to marry!
"But," said he, "if
my eldest daughter wishes absolutely to enter a
convent?"
"Then," replied I, "I
ask the third of you." To this he
objected, on the
ground that if he gave the dowry of
the first to the third daughter, and
the first afterwards changed her
mind and wished to marry, he should be
thrown into an embarrassment. I replied that I would take the third as
though the first were to be married,
and that if she were not, the
difference between what he destined
for her and what he destined for the
third, should be given to me. The Duke, raising his eyes to heaven,
protested that he had never been
combated in this manner, and that he was
obliged to gather up all his forces in
order to prevent himself yielding
to me that very instant.
On the next day, at half-past three,
I had another interview with M. de
Beauvilliers. With much tenderness he declined my proposal,
resting his
refusal upon the inclination his
daughter had displayed for the convent,
upon his little wealth, if, the
marriage of the third being made, she
should change her mind--and upon
other reasons. He spoke to me with much
regret and friendship, and I to him
in the same manner; and we separated,
unable any longer to speak to each
other. Two days after, however, I had
another interview with him by his
appointment. I endeavoured to overcome
the objections that he made, but all
in vain. He could not give me his
third daughter with the first
unmarried, and he would not force her, he
said, to change her wish of retiring
from the world. His words, pious
and elevated, augmented my respect
for him, and my desire for the
marriage. In the evening, at the breaking up of the
appointment, I could
not prevent myself whispering in his
ear that I should never live happily
with anybody but his daughter, and
without waiting for a reply hastened
away. I had the next evening, at eight o'clock, an
interview with Madame
de Beauvilliers. I argued with her with such prodigious ardor
that she
was surprised, and, although she did
not give way, she said she would be
inconsolable for the loss of me,
repeating the same tender and flattering
things her husband had said before,
and with the same effusion of
feeling.
I had yet another interview with M.
de Beauvilliers. He showed even more
affection for me than before, but I
could not succeed in putting aside
his scruples. He unbosomed himself afterwards to one of our
friends, and
in his bitterness said he could only
console himself by hoping that his
children and mine might some day
intermarry, and he prayed me to go and
pass some days at Paris, in order to
allow him to seek a truce to his
grief in my absence. We both were in want of it. I have judged it
fitting to give these details, for
they afford a key to my exceeding
intimacy with M. de Beauvilliers,
which otherwise, considering the
difference in our ages, might appear
incomprehensible.
There was nothing left for me but to
look out for another marriage. One
soon presented itself, but as soon
fell to the ground; and I went to La
Trappe to console myself for the
impossibility of making an alliance with
the Duc de Beauvilliers.
La Trappe is a place so celebrated
and so well known, and its reformer so
famous, that I shall say but little
about it. I will, however, mention
that this abbey is five leagues from
La Ferme-au-Vidame, or Arnold, which
is the real distinctive name of this
Ferme among so many other Fetes in
France, which have preserved the
generic name of what they have been,
that is to say, forts or fortresses
('freitas'). My father had been very
intimate with M. de la Trappe, and
had taken me to him.
Although I was very young then, M.
de la Trappe charmed me, and the
sanctity of the place enchanted
me. Every year I stayed some days there,
sometimes a week at a time, and was
never tired of admiring this great
and distinguished man. He loved me as a son, and I respected him as
though he were any father. This intimacy, singular at my age, I kept
secret from everybody, and only went
to the convent clandestinely.
CHAPTER
V
On my return from La Trappe, I
became engaged in an affair which made a
great noise, and which had many
results for me.
M. de Luxembourg, proud of his
successes, and of the applause of the
world at his victories, believed
himself sufficiently strong to claim
precedence over seventeen dukes,
myself among the number; to step, in
fact, from the eighteenth rank, that
he held amongst the peers, to the
second. The following are the names and the order in
precedence of the
dukes he wished to supersede:
The Duc d'Elboeuf; the Duc de
Montbazon; the Duc de Ventadour; the Duc de
Vendome; the Duc de la Tremoille;
the Duc de Sully; the Duc de Chevreuse,
the son (minor) of the Duchesse de
Lesdiguieres-Gondi; the Duc de
Brissac; Charles d'Albert, called
d'Ailly; the Duc de Richelieu; the Duc
de Saint-Simon; the Duc de la
Rochefoucauld; the Duc de la Force; the Duc
de Valentinois; the Duc de Rohan;
the Duc de Bouillon.
To explain this pretension of M. de
Luxembourg, I must give some details
respecting him and the family whose
name he bore. He was the only son of
M. de Bouteville, and had married a
descendant of Francois de Luxembourg,
Duke of Piney, created Peer of
France in 1581. It was a peerage which,
in default of male successors, went
to the female, but this descendant
was not heir to it. She was the child of a second marriage, and
by a
first marriage her mother had given
birth to a son and a daughter, who
were the inheritors of the peerage,
both of whom were still living. The
son was, however, an idiot, had been
declared incapable of attending to
his affairs, and was shut up in
Saint Lazare, at Paris. The daughter had
taken the veil, and was mistress of
the novices at the Abbaye-aux-Bois.
The peerage had thus, it might
almost be said, become extinct, for it was
vested in an idiot, who could not
marry (to prevent him doing so, he had
been made a deacon, and he was bound
in consequence to remain single),
and in a nun, who was equally bound
by her vows to the same state of
celibacy.
When M. de Bouteville, for that was
his only title then, married, he took
the arms and the name of
Luxembourg. He did more. By powerful
influence--notably that of his
patron the Prince de Conde--he released
the idiot deacon from his asylum,
and the nun from her convent, and
induced them both to surrender to
him their possessions and their titles.
This done, he commenced proceedings
at once in order to obtain legal
recognition of his right to the
dignities he had thus got possession of.
He claimed to be acknowledged Duc de
Piney, with all the privileges
attached to that title as a creation
of 1581. Foremost among these
privileges was that of taking
precedence of all dukes whose title did not
go back so far as that year. Before any decision was given either for or
against this claim, he was made Duc
de Piney by new letters patent,
dating from 1662, with a clause
which left his pretensions to the title
of 1581 by no means affected by this
new creation. M. de Luxembourg,
however, seemed satisfied with what
he had obtained, and was apparently
disposed to pursue his claim no
further. He was received as Duke and
Peer
in the Parliament, took his seat in the last rank after all the
other peers, and allowed his suit to
drop. Since then he had tried
successfully to gain it by stealth,
but for several years nothing more
had been heard of it. Now, however, he recommenced it, and with
every
intention, as we soon found, to stop
at no intrigue or baseness in order
to carry his point.
Nearly everybody was in his
favour. The Court, though not the King,
was
almost entirely for him; and the
town, dazzled by the splendour of his
exploits, was devoted to him. The young men regarded him as the
protector of their debauches; for,
notwithstanding his age, his conduct
was as free as theirs. He had captivated the troops and the general
officers.
In the Parliament he had a staunch
supporter in Harlay, the Chief
President, who led that great body
at his will, and whose devotion he had
acquired to such a degree, that he
believed that to undertake and succeed
were only the same things, and that
this grand affair would scarcely cost
him a winter to carry.
Let
me say something more of this Harlay.
Descended from two celebrated
magistrates, Achille d'Harlay and
Christopher De Thou, Harlay imitated
their gravity, but carried it to a
cynical extent, affected their
disinterestedness and modesty, but
dishonoured the first by his
conduct, and the second by a refined pride
which he endeavoured without success
to conceal. He piqued himself,
above all things, upon his probity
and justice, but the mask soon fell.
Between Peter and Paul he maintained
the strictest fairness, but as soon
as he perceived interest or favour
to be acquired, he sold himself. This
trial will show him stripped of all
disguise. He was learned in the law;
in letters he was second to no one;
he was well acquainted with history,
and knew how, above all, to govern
his company with an authority which
suffered no reply, and which no
other chief president had ever attained.
A pharisaical austerity rendered him
redoubtable by the license he
assumed in his public reprimands,
whether to plaintiffs, or defendants,
advocates or magistrates; so that
there was not a single person who did
not tremble to have to do with
him. Besides this, sustained in all by
the Court (of which he was the
slave, and the very humble servant of
those who were really in favour), a
subtle courtier, a singularly crafty
politician, he used all those
talents solely to further his ambition, his
desire of domination and his thirst
of the reputation of a great man.
He was without real honour, secretly
of corrupt manners, with only
outside probity, without humanity
even; in one word, a perfect hypocrite;
without faith, without law, without
a God, and without a soul; a cruel
husband, a barbarous father, a
tyrannical brother, a friend of himself
alone, wicked by nature--taking
pleasure in insulting, outraging, and
overwhelming others, and never in
his life having lost an occasion to do
so.
His wit was great, but was always subservient to his wickedness.
He was small, vigorous, and thin,
with a lozenge-shaped face, a long
aquiline nose--fine, speaking, keen
eyes, that usually looked furtively
at you, but which, if fixed on a
client or a magistrate, were fit to make
him sink into the earth. He wore narrow robes, an almost
ecclesiastical
collar and wristband to match, a
brown wig mimed with white, thickly
furnished but short, and with a
great cap over it. He affected a bending
attitude, and walked so, with a
false air, more humble than modest, and
always shaved along the walls, to
make people make way for him with
greater noise; and at Versailles
worked his way on by a series of
respectful and, as it were,
shame-faced bows to the right and left.
He
held to the King and to Madame de
Maintenon by knowing their weak side;
and it was he who, being consulted
upon the unheard-of legitimation of
children without naming the mother,
had sanctioned that illegality in
favour of the King.
Such
was the man whose influence was given entirely to our opponent.
To assist M. de Luxembourg's case as
much as possible, the celebrated
Racine, so known by his plays, and
by the order he had received at that
time to write the history of the
King, was employed to polish and
ornament his pleas. Nothing was left undone by M. de Luxembourg
in order
to gain this cause.
I cannot give all the details of the
case, the statements made on both
sides, and the defences; they would
occupy entire volumes. We maintained
that M. de Luxembourg was in no way
entitled to the precedence he
claimed, and we had both law and
justice on our side. To give
instructions to our counsel, and to
follow the progress of the case,
we met once a week, seven or eight
of us at least, those best disposed
to give our time to the matter. Among the most punctual was M. de la
Rochefoucauld. I had been solicited from the commencement to
take part
in the proceedings, and I complied
most willingly, apologising for so
doing to M. de Luxembourg, who
replied with all the politeness and
gallantry possible, that I could not
do less than follow an example my
father had set me.
The trial having commenced, we soon
saw how badly disposed the Chief
President was towards us. He obstructed us in every way, and acted
against all rules. There seemed no other means of defeating his
evident
intention of judging against us than
by gaining time, first of all; and
to do this we determined to get the
case adjourned, There were, however,
only two days at our disposal, and
that was not enough in order to comply
with the forms required for such a
step. We were all in the greatest
embarrassment, when it fortunately
came into the head of one of our
lawyers to remind us of a privilege
we possessed, by which, without much
difficulty, we could obtain what we
required. I was the only one who
could, at that moment, make use of
this privilege. I hastened home, at
once, to obtain the necessary
papers, deposited them with the procureur
of M. de Luxembourg, and the
adjournment was obtained. The rage of M.
de
Luxembourg was without bounds. When we met he would not salute me, and
in consequence I discontinued to
salute him; by which he lost more than
I, in his position and at his age,
and furnished in the rooms and the
galleries of Versailles a sufficiently
ridiculous spectacle. In addition
to this he quarrelled openly with M.
de Richelieu, and made a bitter
attack upon him in one of his
pleas. But M. de Richelieu, meeting him
soon after in the Salle des Gardes
at Versailles, told him to his face
that he should soon have a reply;
and said that he feared him neither on
horseback nor on foot--neither him
nor his crew--neither in town nor at
the Court, nor even in the army, nor
in any place in the world; and
without allowing time for a reply he
turned on his heel. In the end, M.
de Luxembourg found himself so
closely pressed that he was glad to
apologise to M. de Richelieu.
After a time our cause, sent back
again to the Parliament, was argued
there with the same vigour, the same
partiality, and the same injustice
as before: seeing this, we felt that
the only course left open to us was
to get the case sent before the
Assembly of all the Chambers, where the
judges, from their number, could not
be corrupted by M. de Luxembourg,
and where the authority of Harlay
was feeble, while over the Grand
Chambre,
in which the case was at present, it was absolute. The
difficulty was to obtain an assembly
of all the Chambers, for the power
of summoning them was vested solely
in Harlay. However, we determined to
try and gain his consent. M. de Chaulnes undertook to go upon this
delicate errand, and acquitted
himself well of his mission. He pointed
out to Harlay that everybody was
convinced of his leaning towards M. de
Luxembourg, and that the only way to
efface the conviction that had gone
abroad was to comply with our
request; in fine, he used so many
arguments, and with such address,
that Harlay, confused and thrown off
his guard, and repenting of the
manner in which he had acted towards us
as being likely to injure his
interests, gave a positive assurance to M.
de Chaulnes that what we asked
should be granted.
We had scarcely finished
congratulating ourselves upon this unhoped-for
success, when we found that we had
to do with a man whose word was a very
sorry support to rest upon. M. de Luxembourg, affrighted at the promise
Harlay had given, made him resolve
to break it. Suspecting this, M. de
Chaulnes paid another visit to the
Chief President, who admitted, with
much confusion, that he had changed
his views, and that it was impossible
to carry out what he had agreed
to. After this we felt that to treat any
longer with a man so perfidious
would be time lost; and we determined,
therefore, to put it out of his
power to judge the case at all.
According to the received maxim,
whoever is at law with the son cannot be
judged by the father. Harlay had a son who was
Advocate-General. We
resolved that one among us should
bring an action against him.
After trying in vain to induce the
Duc de Rohan, who was the only one of
our number who could readily have
done it, to commence a suit against
Harlay's sort, we began to despair
of arriving at our aim. Fortunately
for us, the vexation of Harlay
became so great at this time, in
consequence of the disdain with
which we treated him, and which we openly
published, that he extricated us
himself from our difficulty. We had
only to supplicate the Duc de
Gesvres in the cause (he said to some of
our people), and we should obtain
what we wanted; for the Duc de Gesvres
vas his relative. We took him at his word. The, Duc de Gesvres received
in two days a summons on our
part. Harlay, annoyed with himself for
the
advice he had given, relented of it:
but it was too late; he was declared
unable to judge the cause, and the
case itself was postponed until the
next year.
Meanwhile, let me mention a
circumstance which should have found a place
before, and then state what occurred
in the interval which followed until
the trial recommenced.
It was while our proceedings were
making some little stir that fresh
favours were heaped upon the King's
illegitimate sons, at the instance of
the King himself, and with the
connivance of Harlay, who, for the part he
took in the affair, was promised the
chancellorship when it should become
vacant. The rank of these illegitimate sons was
placed just below that
of the princes, of the blood, and
just above that of the peers even of
the oldest creation. This gave us all exceeding annoyance: it was
the
greatest injury the peerage could
have received, and became its leprosy
and sore. All the peers who could, kept themselves
aloof from the
parliament, when M. du Maine, M. de
Vendome, and the Comte de Toulouse,
for whom this arrangement was
specially made, were received there.
There were several marriages at the
Court this winter and many very fine
balls, at which latter I
danced. By the spring, preparations were
ready
for fresh campaigns. My regiment (I had bought one at the close of
the
last season) was ordered to join the
army of M. de Luxembourg; but, as I
had no desire to be under him, I
wrote to the King, begging to be
exchanged. In a short time, to the great vexation, as I
know, of M. de
Luxembourg, my request was
granted. The Chevalier de Sully went to
Flanders in my place, and I to
Germany in his. I went first to Soissons
to see my regiment, and in
consequence of the recommendation of the King,
was more severe with it than I
should otherwise have been. I set out
afterwards for Strasbourg, where I
was surprised with the magnificence of
the town, and with the number,
beauty, and grandeur of its
fortifications. As from my youth I knew and spoke German
perfectly, I
sought out one of my early German
acquaintances, who gave me much
pleasure. I stopped six days at Strasbourg and then
went by the Rhine to
Philipsburg. On the next day after arriving there, I
joined the cavalry,
which was encamped at Obersheim.
After several movements--in which we
passed and repassed the Rhine--but
which led to no effective result, we
encamped for forty days at Gaw-
Boecklheim, one of the best and most
beautiful positions in the world,
and where we had charming weather,
although a little disposed to cold.
It was in the leisure of that long
camp that I commenced these memoirs,
incited by the pleasure I took in
reading those of Marshal Bassompierre,
which invited me thus to write what
I should see in my own time.
During this season M. de Noailles
took Palamos, Girone, and the fortress
of Castel-Follit in Catalonia. This last was taken by the daring of a
soldier, who led on a small number
of his comrades, and carried the place
by assault. Nothing was done in Italy; and in Flanders M.
de Luxembourg
came to no engagement with the
Prince of Orange.
CHAPTER
VI
After our long rest at the camp of
Gaw-Boecklheim we again put ourselves
in movement, but without doing much
against the enemy, and on the 16th of
October I received permission to
return to Paris. Upon my arrival there
I learnt that many things had
occurred since I left. During that time
some adventures had happened to the
Princesses, as the three illegitimate
daughters of the King were called
for distinction sake. Monsieur wished
that the Duchesse de Chartres should
always call the others "sister," but
that the others should never address
her except as "Madame." The
Princesse de Conti submitted to
this; but the other (Madame la Duchesse,
being the produce of the same love)
set herself to call the Duchesse de
Chartres "mignonne." But nothing was less a mignonne than her face
and
her figure; and Monsieur, feeling
the ridicule, complained to the King.
The King prohibited very severely
this familiarity.
While at Trianon these Princesses
took it into their heads to walk out
at night and divert themselves with
crackers. Either from malice or
imprudence they let off some one
night under the windows of Monsieur,
rousing him thereby out of his
sleep. He was so displeased, that he
complained to the King, who made him
many excuses (scolding the
Princesses), but had great trouble
to appease him. His anger lasted a
long time, and the Duchesse de
Chartres felt it. I do not know if the
other two were very sorry. Madame la Duchesse was accused of writing
some songs upon the Duchesse de
Chartres.
The Princesse de Conti had another
adventure, which made considerable
noise, and which had great
results. She had taken into her favour
Clermont, ensign of the gensdarmes
and of the Guard. He had pretended to
be enamoured of her, and had not
been repelled, for she soon became in
love with him. Clermont had attached himself to the service
of M. de
Luxembourg, and was the merest
creature in his hands. At the
instigation
of M. de Luxembourg, he turned away
his regards from the Princesse de
Conti, and fixed them upon one of
her maids of honour--Mademoiselle
Choin, a great, ugly, brown, thick-set
girl, upon whom Monseigneur had
lately bestowed his affection. Monseigneur made no secret of this, nor
did she. Such being the case, it occurred to M. de
Luxembourg (who knew
he was no favourite with the King,
and who built all his hopes of the
future upon Monseigneur) that
Clermont, by marrying La Choin, might thus
secure the favour of Monseigneur,
whose entire confidence she possessed.
Clermont was easily persuaded that
this would be for him a royal road to
fortune, and he accordingly entered
willingly into the scheme, which had
just begun to move, when the
campaign commenced, and everybody went away
to join the armies.
The King, who partly saw this
intrigue, soon made himself entirely master
of it, by intercepting the letters
which passed between the various
parties. He read there the project of Clermont and La
Choin to marry,
and thus govern Monseigneur; he saw
how M. de Luxembourg was the soul of
this scheme, and the marvels to
himself he expected from it. The letters
Clermont had received from the
Princesse de Conti he now sent to
Mademoiselle la Choin, and always
spoke to her of Monseigneur as their
"fat friend." With this correspondence in his hands, the
King one day
sent for the Princesse de Conti,
said in a severe tone that he knew of
her weakness for Clermont; and, to
prove to her how badly she had placed
her affection, showed her her own
letters to Clermont, and letters in
which he had spoken most
contemptuously of her to La Choin. Then,
as a
cruel punishment, he made her read
aloud to him the whole of those
letters. At this she almost died, and threw herself,
bathed in tears, at
the feet of the King, scarcely able
to articulate. Then came sobs,
entreaty, despair, and rage, and
cries for justice and revenge. This was
soon obtained. Mademoiselle la Choin was driven away the next
day; and
M. de Luxembourg had orders to strip
Clermont of his office, and send him
to the most distant part of the
kingdom. The terror of M. de Luxembourg
and the Prince de Conti at this
discovery may be imagined. Songs
increased the notoriety of this
strange adventure between the Princess
and her confidant.
M. de Noyon had furnished on my
return another subject for the song-
writers, and felt it the more
sensibly because everybody was diverted at
his expense, M. de Noyon was
extremely vain, and afforded thereby much
amusement to the King. A Chair was vacant at the Academic Francaise.
The King wished it to be given to M.
de Noyon, and expressed himself to
that effect to Dangeau, who was a
member. As may be believed, the
prelate was elected without
difficulty. His Majesty testified to the
Prince de Conde, and to the most
distinguished persons of the Court, that
he should be glad to see them at the
reception. Thus M. de Noyon was the
first member of the Academia chosen
by the King, and the first at whose
reception he had taken the trouble
to invite his courtiers to attend.
The Abbe de Caumartin was at that
time Director of the Academie. He knew
the vanity of M. de Noyon, and
determined to divert the public at his
expense. He had many friends in power, and judged that
his pleasantry
would be overlooked, and even
approved. He composed, therefore, a
confused and bombastic discourse in
the style of M. de Noyon, full of
pompous phrases, turning the prelate
into ridicule, while they seemed to
praise him. After finishing this work, he was afraid lest
it should be
thought out of all measure, and, to
reassure himself, carried it to M. de
Noyon himself, as a scholar might to
his master, in order to see whether
it fully met with his approval. M. de Noyon, so far from suspecting
anything, was charmed by the
discourse, and simply made a few corrections
in the style. The Abbe de Caumartin rejoiced at the success
of the snare
he had laid, and felt quite bold
enough to deliver his harangue.
The day came. The Academie was crowded. The King and the Court were
there, all expecting to be
diverted. M. de Noyon, saluting
everybody
with a satisfaction he did riot
dissimulate, made his speech with his
usual confidence, and in his usual
style. The Abbe replied with a modest
air, and with a gravity and slowness
that gave great effect to his
ridiculous discourse. The surprise and pleasure were general, and
each
person strove to intoxicate M. de
Noyon more and more, making him believe
that the speech of the Abbe was
relished solely because it had so
worthily praised him. The prelate was delighted with the Abbe and
the
public, and conceived not the
slightest mistrust.
The noise which this occurrence made
may be imagined, and the praises M.
de Noyon gave himself in relating
everywhere what he had said, and what
had been replied to him. M. de Paris, to whose house he went, thus
triumphing, did not like him, and
endeavoured to open his eyes to the
humiliation he had received. For some time M. de Noyon would not be
convinced of the truth; it was not
until he had consulted with Pere la
Chaise that he believed it. The excess of rage and vexation succeeded
then to the excess of rapture he had
felt. In this state he returned to
his house, and went the next day to
Versailles. There he made the most
bitter complaints to the King, of
the Abbe de Caumartin, by whose means
he had become the sport and
laughing-stock of all the world.
The King, who had learned what had
passed, was himself displeased. He
ordered Pontchartrain (who was
related to Caumartin) to rebuke the Abbe,
and to send him a lettre de cachet,
in order that he might go and ripen
his brain in his Abbey of Busay, in
Brittany, and better learn there how
to speak and write. Pontchartrain executed the first part of his
commission, but not the second. He pointed out to the King that the
speech of the Abbe de Caumartin had
been revised and corrected by M. de
Noyon, and that, therefore, this
latter had only himself to blame in the
matter. He declared, too, that the Abbe was very
sorry for what he had
done, and was most willing to beg
pardon of M. de Noyon. The lettre de
cachet thus fell to the ground, but
not the anger of the prelate. He was
so outraged that he would not see the
Abbe, retired into his diocese to
hide his shame, and remained there a
long time.
Upon his return to Paris, however,
being taken ill, before consenting to
receive the sacraments, he sent for
the Abbe, embraced him, pardoned him,
and gave him a diamond ring, that he
drew from his finger, and that he
begged him to keep in memory of
him. Nay, more, when he was cured, he
used all his influence to reinstate
the Abbe in the esteem of the King.
But the King could never forgive
what had taken place, and M. de Noyon,
by this grand action, gained only
the favour of God and the honour of the
world.
I
must finish the account of the war of this year with a strange
incident. M. de Noailles, who had been so successful in
Catalonia, was
on very bad terms with Barbezieux,
secretary of state for the war
department. Both were in good favour with the King; both
high in power,
both spoiled. The successes in Catalonia had annoyed
Barbezieux. They
smoothed the way for the siege of
Barcelona, and that place once taken,
the very heart of Spain would have
been exposed, and M. de Noailles would
have gained fresh honours and
glory. M. de Noailles felt this so
completely that he had pressed upon
the King the siege of Barcelona; and
when the fitting time came for
undertaking it, sent a messenger to him
with full information of the forces
and supplies he required. Fearing
that if he wrote out this
information it might fall into the hands of
Barbezieux, and never reach the
King, he simply gave his messenger
instructions by word of mouth, and
charged him to deliver them so. But
the very means he had taken to
ensure success brought about failure.
Barbezieux, informed by his spies of
the departure of the messenger,
waylaid him, bribed him, and induced
him to act with the blackest
perfidy, by telling the King quite a
different story to that he was
charged with. In this way, the project for the siege of
Barcelona was
entirely broken, at the moment for
its execution, and with the most
reasonable hopes of success; and
upon M. de Noailles rested all the
blame. What a thunderbolt this was for him may
easily be imagined. But
the trick had been so well played,
that he could not clear himself with
the King; and all through this
winter he remained out of favour.
At last he thought of a means by
which he might regain his position. He
saw the inclination of the King for
his illegitimate children; and
determined to make a sacrifice in
favour of one of them; rightly judging
that this would be a sure means to
step back into the confidence he had
been so craftily driven from. His scheme, which he caused to be placed
before the King, was to go into
Catalonia at the commencement of the next
campaign, to make a semblance of
falling ill immediately upon arriving,
to send to Versailles a request that
he might be recalled, and at the
same time a suggestion that M. de
Vendome (who would then be near Nice,
under Marechal Catinat) should
succeed him. In order that no time might
be lost, nor the army left without a
general, he proposed to carry with
him the letters patent; appointing
M. de Vendome, and to send them to him
at the same time that he sent to be
recalled.
It is impossible to express the
relief and satisfaction with which this
proposition was received. The King was delighted with it, as with
everything tending to advance his
illegitimate children and to put a
slight upon the Princes of the
blood. He could not openly have made
this
promotion without embroiling himself
with the latter; but coming as it
would from M. de Noailles, he had
nothing to fear. M. de Vendome, once
general of an army, could no longer
serve in any other quality; and would
act as a stepping-stone for M. du
Maine.
From this moment M. de Noailles
returned more than ever into the good
graces of the King. Everything happened as it had been
arranged. But
the secret was betrayed in the
execution. Surprise was felt that at the
same moment M. de Noailles sent a
request to be recalled, he also sent,
and without waiting for a reply, to
call M. de Vendame to the command.
What completely raised the veil were
the letters patent that he sent
immediately after to M. de Vendome,
and that it was known he could not
have received from the King in the
time that had elapsed. M. de Noailles
returned from Catalonia, and was
received as his address merited. He
feigned being lame with rheumatism,
and played the part for a long time,
but forgot himself occasionally, and
made his company smile. He fixed
himself at the Court, and gained
there much more favour than he could
have gained by the war; to the great
vexation of Barbezieux.
M. de Luxembourg very strangely
married his daughter at this time to the
Chevalier de Soissons (an
illegitimate son of the Comte de Soissons),
brought out from the greatest
obscurity by the Comtesse de Nemours, and
adopted by her to spite her family:
M. de Luxembourg did not long survive
this fine marriage. At sixty-seven years of age he believed
himself
twenty-five, and lived
accordingly. The want of genuine
intrigues, from
which his age and his face excluded
him, he supplied by money-power; and
his intimacy, and that of his son,
with the Prince de Conti and
Albergotti was kept up almost
entirely by the community of their habits,
and the secret parties of pleasure
they concocted together. All the
burden of marches, of orders of
subsistence, fell upon a subordinate.
Nothing could be more exact than the
coup d'oeil of M. de Luxembourg--
nobody could be more brilliant, more
sagacious, more penetrating than he
before the enemy or in battle, and
this, too, with an audacity, an ease,
and at the same time a coolness,
which allowed him to see all and foresee
all under the hottest fire, and in
the most imminent danger: It was at
such times that he was great. For the rest he was idleness itself. He
rarely walked unless absolutely
obliged, spent his time in gaming, or in
conversation With his familiars; and
had every evening a supper with a
chosen few (nearly always the same);
and if near a town, the other sex
were always agreeably mingled with
them. When thus occupied, he was
inaccessible to everybody, and if
anything pressing happened, it was his
subordinate who attended to it. Such was at the army the life of this
great general, and such it was at
Paris, except that the Court and the
great world occupied his days, and
his pleasures the evenings. At last,
age, temperament, and constitution
betrayed him. He fell ill at
Versailles. Given over by Fagon, the King's physician,
Coretti, an
Italian, who had secrets of his own,
undertook his cure, and relieved
him, but only for a short time. His door during this illness was
besieged by all the Court. The King sent to inquire after him, but it
was more for appearance' sake than
from sympathy, for I have already
remarked that the King did not like
him. The brilliancy of his
campaigns, and the difficulty of
replacing him, caused all the
disquietude. Becoming worse, M. de Luxembourg received the
sacraments,
showed some religion and firmness,
and died on the morning of the 4th of
January, 1695, the fifth day of his
illness, much regretted by many
people, but personally esteemed by
none, and loved by very few.
Not one of the Dukes M. de
Luxembourg had attacked went to see him during
his illness. I neither went nor sent, although at
Versailles; and I must
admit that I felt my deliverance from
such an enemy.
Here, perhaps, I may as well relate
the result of the trial in which we
were engaged, and which, after the
death of M. de Luxembourg, was
continued by his son. It was not judged until the following year.
I have shown that by our implicating
the Duc de Gesvres, the Chief
President had been declared
incapable of trying the case. The rage
he
conceived against us cannot be
expressed, and, great actor that he was,
he could not hide it. All his endeavour afterwards was to do what
he
could against us; the rest of the
mask fell, and the deformity of the
judge appeared in the man, stripped
of all disguise.
We immediately signified to M. de
Luxembourg that he must choose between
the letters patent of 1581 and those
of 1662. If he abandoned the first
the case fell through; in
repudiating the last he renounced the certainty
of being duke and peer after us; and
ran the risk of being reduced to an
inferior title previously granted to
him. The position was a delicate
one; he was affrighted; but after
much consultation he resolved to run
all risks and maintain his
pretensions. It thus simply became a
question
of his right to the title of Duc de
Piney, with the privilege attached to
it as a creation of 1581.
In
the spring of 1696 the case was at last brought on, before the
Assembly of all the Chambers. Myself and the other Dukes seated
ourselves in court to hear the
proceedings. The trial commenced.
All the facts and particulars of the
cause were brought forward.
Our advocates spoke, and then few doubted
but that we should gain the
victory. M. de Luxembourg's advocate, Dumont, was next
heard. He was
very audacious, and spoke so
insolently of us, saying, in Scripture
phraseology, that we honoured the
King with our lips, whilst our hearts
were far from him, that I could not
contain myself. I was seated between
the Duc de la Rochefoucauld and the
Duc d'Estrees. I stood up, crying
out against the imposture of this
knave, and calling for justice on him.
M. de la Rochefoucauld pulled me
back, made me keep silent, and I plunged
down into my seat more from anger
against him than against the advocate.
My movement excited a murmur. We might on the instant have had justice
against Dumont, but the opportunity
had passed for us to ask for it, and
the President de Maisons made a
slight excuse for him. We complained,
however, afterwards to the King, who
expressed his surprise that Dumont
had not been stopped in the midst of
his speech.
The summing up was made by
D'Aguesseau, who acquitted himself of the task
with much eloquence and
impartiality. His speech lasted two
days. This
being over, the court was cleared,
and the judges were left alone to
deliberate upon their verdict. Some time after we were called in to hear
that verdict given. It was in favour of M. de Luxembourg in so
far as
the title dating from 1662 was
concerned; but the consideration of his
claim to the title of 1581 was
adjourned indefinitely, so that he
remained exactly in the same
position as his father.
It was with difficulty we could believe
in a decree so unjust and so
novel, and which decided a question
that was not under dispute. I was
outraged, but I endeavoured to
contain myself. I spoke to M. de la
Rochefoucauld; I tried to make him
listen to me, and to agree that we
should complain to the King, but I
spoke to a man furious, incapable of
understanding anything or of doing
anything. Returning to my own house,
I wrote a letter to the King, in
which I complained of the opinion of the
judges. I also pointed out, that when everybody had
been ordered to
retire from the council chamber,
Harlay and his secretary had been
allowed to remain. On these and other grounds I begged the King
to grant
a new trial.
I carried this letter to the Duc de
la Tremoille, but I could not get him
to look at it. I returned home more vexed if possible than
when I left.
The King, nevertheless, was
exceedingly dissatisfied with the judgment.
He explained himself to that effect
at his dinner, and in a manner but
little advantageous to the
Parliament, and prepared himself to receive
the complaints he expected would be
laid before him. But the obstinacy
of M. de la Rochefoucauld, which
turned into vexation against himself,
rendered it impossible for us to
take any steps in the matter, and so
overwhelmed me with displeasure,
that I retired to La Trappe during
Passion Week in order to recover
myself.
At my return I learned that the King
had spoken of this judgment to the
Chief President, and that that
magistrate had blamed it, saying the cause
was indubitably ours, and that he
had always thought so! If he thought
so, why oppose us so long? and if he did not think so, what a
prevaricator was he to reply with
this flattery, so as to be in accord
with the King? The judges themselves were ashamed of their
verdict, and
excused themselves for it on the
ground of their compassion for the state
in which M. de Luxembourg would have
been placed had he lost the title of
1662, and upon its being impossible
that he should gain the one of 1581,
of which they had left him the chimera. M. de Luxembourg was accordingly
received at the Parliament on the
4th of the following May, with the rank
of 1662. He came and visited all of us, but we would
have no intercourse
with him or with his judges. To the Advocate-General, D'Aguesseau, we
carried our thanks.
CHAPTER
VII
Thus ended this long and important
case; and now let me go back again to
the events of the previous year.
Towards the end of the summer and
the commencement of the winter of 1695,
negotiations for peace were set on
foot by the King. Harlay, son-in-law
of our enemy, was sent to Maestricht
to sound the Dutch. But in
proportion as they saw peace desired
were they less inclined to listen to
terms. They had even the impudence to insinuate to
Harlay, whose
paleness and thinness were
extraordinary, that they took him for a sample
of the reduced state of France! He, without getting angry, replied
pleasantly, that if they would give
him the time to send for his wife,
they would, perhaps, conceive
another opinion of the position of the
realm. In effect, she was extremely fat, and of a
very high colour. He
was rather roughly dismissed, and
hastened to regain our frontier.
Two events followed each other very
closely this winter. The first was
the death of the Princess of Orange,
in London, at the end of January.
The King of England prayed our King
to allow the Court to wear no
mourning, and it was even prohibited
to M. de Bouillon and M. de Duras,
who were both related to the Prince
of Orange. The order was obeyed, and
no word was said; but this sort of
vengeance was thought petty. Hopes
were held out of a change in
England, but they vanished immediately, and
the Prince of Orange appeared more
accredited there and stronger than
ever. The Princess was much regretted, and the
Prince of Orange, who
loved her and gave her his entire
confidence, and even most marked
respect, was for some days ill with
grief.
The other event was strange. The Duke of Hanover, who, in consequence of
the Revolution, was destined to the
throne of England after the Prince
and Princess of Orange and the
Princess of Denmark, had married his
cousin-german, a daughter of the
Duke of Zell. She was beautiful, and he
lived happily with her for some
time. The Count of Koenigsmarck, young
and very well made, came to the
Court, and gave him some umbrage. The
Duke of Hanover became jealous; he
watched his wife and the Count, and at
length believed himself fully
assured of what he would have wished to
remain ignorant of all his
life. Fury seized him: he had the Count
arrested and thrown into a hot
oven. Immediately afterwards he sent his
wife to her father, who shut her up
in one of his castles, where she was
strictly guarded by the people of
the Duke of Hanover. An assembly of
the Consistory was held in order to
break off his marriage. It was
decided, very singularly, that the
marriage was annulled so far as the
Duke was concerned, and that he
could marry another woman; but that it
remained binding on the Duchess, and
that she could not marry. The
children she had had during her
marriage were declared legitimate. The
Duke of Hanover did not remain
persuaded as to this last article.
The King, entirely occupied with the
aggrandisement of his natural
children, had heaped upon the Comte
de Toulouse every possible favour.
He now (in order to evade a promise
he had made to his brother, that the
first vacant government should be
given to the Duc de Chartres) forced M.
de Chaulnes to give up the
government of Brittany, which he had long
held, and conferred it upon the
Comte de Toulouse, giving to the friend
and heir of the former the
successorship to the government of Guyenne, by
way of recompense.
M. de Chaulnes was old and fat, but
much loved by the people of Brittany.
He was overwhelmed by this
determination of the King, and his wife, who
had long been accustomed to play the
little Queen, still more so; yet
there was nothing for them but to
obey. They did obey, but it was with a
sorrow and chagrin they could not
hide.
The appointment was announced one
morning at the rising of the King.
Monsieur, who awoke later, heard of
it at the drawing of his curtains,
and was extremely piqued. The Comte de Toulouse came shortly
afterwards,
and announced it himself. Monsieur interrupted him, and before
everybody
assembled there said, "The King
has given you a good present; but I know
not if what he has done is good
policy." Monsieur went shortly
afterwards to the King, and
reproached him for giving, under cover of a
trick, the government of Brittany to
the Comte de Toulouse, having
promised it to the Duc de
Chartres. The King heard him in silence:
he
knew well how to appease him. Some money for play and to embellish Saint
Cloud, soon effaced Monsieur's
chagrin.
All this winter my mother was solely
occupied in finding a good match for
me.
Some attempt was made to marry me to Mademoiselle de Royan. It
would have been a noble and rich
marriage; but I was alone, Mademoiselle
de Royan was an orphan, and I wished
a father-in-law and a family upon
whom I could lean. During the preceding year there had been some
talk of
the eldest daughter of Marechal de
Lorges for me. The affair had fallen
through, almost as soon as
suggested, and now, on both sides, there was a
desire to recommence
negotiations. The probity, integrity, the
freedom
of Marechal de Lorges pleased me
infinitely, and everything tended to
give me an extreme desire for this
marriage. Madame de Lorges by her
virtue and good sense was all I
could wish for as the mother of my future
wife. Mademoiselle de Lorges was a blonde, with a
complexion and figure
perfect, a very amiable face, an
extremely noble and modest deportment,
and with I know not what of majesty
derived from her air of virtue, and
of natural gentleness. The Marechal had five other daughters, but I
liked this one best without
comparison, and hoped to find with her that
happiness which she since has given
me. As she has become my wife, I
will abstain here from saying more
about her, unless it be that she has
exceeded all that was promised of
her, and all that I myself had hoped.
My marriage being agreed upon and
arranged the Marechal de Lorges spoke
of it to the King, who had the
goodness to reply to him that he could not
do better, and to speak of me very
obligingly. The marriage accordingly
took place at the Hotel de Lorges,
on the 8th of April, 1695, which I
have always regarded, and with good
reason, as the happiest day of my
life. My mother treated me like the best mother in
the world. On the
Thursday before Quasimodo the
contract was signed; a grand repast
followed; at midnight the cure of
Saint Roch said mass, and married us in
the chapel of the house. On the eve, my mother had sent forty thousand
livres' worth of precious stones to
Mademoiselle de Lorges, and I six
hundred Louis in a corbeille filled
with all the knick-knacks that are
given on these occasions.
We slept in the grand apartment of
the Hotel des Lorges. On the morrow,
after dinner, my wife went to bed,
and received a crowd of visitors, who
came to pay their respects and to
gratify their curiosity. The next
evening we went to Versailles, and
were received by Madame de Maintenon
and the King. On arriving at the supper-table, the King
said to the new
Duchess:--"Madame, will you be
pleased to seat yourself?"
His napkin being unfolded, he saw
all the duchesses and princesses still
standing; and rising in his chair,
he said to Madame de Saint-Simon--
"Madame, I have already begged
you to be seated;" and all immediately
seated themselves. On the morrow, Madame de Saint-Simon received
all the
Court in her bed in the apartment of
the Duchesse d'Arpajon, as being
more handy, being on the ground
floor. Our festivities finished by a
supper that I gave to the former
friends of my father, whose acquaintance
I had always cultivated with great
care.
Almost immediately after my marriage
the second daughter of the Marechal
de Lorges followed in the footsteps
of her sister. She was fifteen years
of age, and at the reception of
Madame de Saint-Simon had attracted the
admiration of M. de Lauzun, who was
then sixty-three. Since his return
to the Court he had been reinstated
in the dignity he had previously
held. He flattered himself that by marrying the
daughter of a General he
should re-open a path to himself for
command in the army. Full of this
idea he spoke to M. de Lorges, who
was by no means inclined towards the
marriage. M. de Lauzun offered, however, to marry
without dowry; and M.
de Lorges, moved by this
consideration, assented to his wish. The
affair
concluded, M. de Lorges spoke of it
to the King. "You are bold,"
said
his Majesty, "to take Lauzun
into your family. I hope you may not
repent
of it."
The contract was soon after
signed. M. de Lorges gave no dowry with
his
daughter, but she was to inherit
something upon the death of M. Fremont.
We carried this contract to the
King, who smiled and bantered M. de
Lauzun. M. de Lauzun replied, that he was only too
happy, since it was
the first time since his return that
he had seen the King smile at him.
The marriage took place without delay:
there were only seven or eight
persons present at the
ceremony. M. de Lauzun would undress
himself
alone with his valet de chambre, and
did not enter the apartment of his
wife until after everybody had left
it, and she was in bed with the
curtains closed, and nobody to meet
him on his passage. His wife
received company in bed, as mine had
done. Nobody was able to understand
this marriage; and all foresaw that
a rupture would speedily be brought
about by the well-known temper of M.
de Lauzun. In effect, this is what
soon happened. The Marechal de Lorges, remaining still in
weak health,
was deemed by the King unable to
take the field again, and his army given
over to the command of another
General. M. de Lauzun thus saw all his
hopes of advancement at an end, and,
discontented that the Marechal had
done nothing for him, broke off all
connection with the family, took away
Madame de Lauzun from her mother (to
the great grief of the latter; who
doted upon this daughter), and
established her in a house of his own
adjoining the Assumption, in the
Faubourg Saint-Honore. There she had to
endure her husband's continual
caprices, but little removed in their
manifestation from madness. Everybody cast blame upon him, and strongly
pitied her and her father and
mother; but nobody was surprised.
A few days after the marriage of M.
de Lauzun, as the King was being
wheeled in his easy chair in the
gardens at Versailles, he asked me for
many minute particulars concerning
the family of the Marechal de Lorges.
He then set himself to joke with me
upon the marriage of M. de Lauzun--
and upon mine. He said to me, in spite of that gravity which
never
quitted him, that he had learnt from
the Marechal I had well acquitted
myself, but that he believed the
Marechal had still better news.
The loss of two illustrious men
about this time, made more noise than
that of two of our grand
ladies. The first of these men was La
Fontaine,
so well known by his
"Fables" and stories, and who, nevertheless, was so
heavy in conversation. The other was Mignard--so illustrious by his
pencil: he had an only
daughter--perfectly beautiful: she is repeated in
several of those magnificent
historical pictures which adorn the grand
gallery of Versailles and its two
salons, and which have had no slight
share in irritating all Europe
against the King, and in leaguing it still
more against his person than his
realm.
At the usual time the armies were
got ready for active service, and
everybody set out to join them. That of the Rhine, in which I was, was
commanded by the Marechal de
Lorges. No sooner had we crossed the
river
and come upon the enemy, than the
Marechal fell ill. Although we were in
want of forage and were badly
encamped, nobody complained--nobody wished
to move. Never did an army show so much interest in
the life of its
chief, or so much love for him. M. de Lorges was, in truth, at the last
extremity, and the doctors that had
been sent for from Strasbourg gave
him up entirely. I took upon myself to administer to him some
"English
Drops." One hundred and thirty were given him in
three doses: the effect
was astonishing; an eruption burst
out upon the Marechal's body, and
saved his life. His illness was not, however, at an end; and
the army,
although suffering considerably,
would not hear of moving until he was
quite ready to move also. There was no extremity it would not undergo
rather than endanger the life of its
chief.
Prince Louis of Baden offered by
trumpets all sorts of assistance--
doctors and remedies, and gave his
word that if the army removed from its
General, he and those who remained
with him should be provided with
forage and provisions--should be
unmolested and allowed to rejoin the
main body in perfect safety, or go
whithersoever they pleased. He was
thanked, as he merited, for those
very kind offers, which we did not
wish, however, to profit by.
Little by little the health of the
General was reestablished, and the
army demonstrated its joy by
bonfire's all over the camp, and by salvos,
which it was impossible to prevent. Never was seen testimony of love so
universal or so flattering. The King was much concerned at the illness
of the Marechal; all the Court was
infinitely touched by it. M. de
Lorges was not less loved by it than
by the troops. When able to support
the fatigues of the journey, he was
removed in a coach to Philipsburg,
where he was joined by the Marechal,
who had come there to meet him. The
next day he went to Landau, and I,
who formed one of his numerous and
distinguished escort, accompanied
him there, and then returned to the
army, which was placed under the
command of the Marechal de Joyeuse.
We found it at about three leagues
from Ketsch, its right at Roth, and
its left at Waldsdorff. We learned that the Marechal de Joyeuse had
lost
a good occasion of fighting the
enemy; but as I was not in camp at the
time, I will say no more of the
matter. Our position was not good:
Schwartz was on our left, and the
Prince of Baden on our right, hemming
us in, as it were, between
them. We had no forage, whilst they had
abundance of everything, and were
able to procure all they wanted. There
was a contest who should decamp the
last. All our communications were
cut off with Philipsburg, so that we
could not repass the Rhine under the
protection of that place. To get out of our position, it was necessary
to defile before our enemies into
the plain of Hockenun, and this was a
delicate operation. The most annoying circumstance was, that M.
de
Joyeuse would communicate with
nobody, and was so ill-tempered that none
dared to speak to him. At last he determined upon his plans, and I
was
of the detachment by which they were
to be carried out. We were sent to
Manheim to see if out of the ruins
of that place (burned in 1688 by M. de
Louvois) sufficient, materials could
be found to construct bridges, by
which we might cross the Rhine
there. We found that the bridges could
be
made, and returned to announce this
to M. de Joyeuse. Accordingly, on
the 20th of July, the army put
itself in movement. The march was made
in
the utmost confusion. Everything was in disorder; the infantry and
cavalry were huddled together
pell-mell; no commands could be acted upon,
and indeed the whole army was so
disorganised that it could have been
easily beaten by a handful of
men. In effect, the enemy at last tried
to
take advantage of our confusion, by
sending a few troops to harass us.
But it was too late; we had
sufficiently rallied to be able to turn upon
them, and they narrowly escaped
falling into our hands. We encamped that
night in the plain on the banks of
the Necker--our rear at Manheim, and
our left at Seckenheim, while
waiting for the remainder of the army,
still very distant. Indeed, so great had been the confusion, that
the
first troops arrived at one o'clock
at night, and the last late in the
morning of the next day.
I thought that our headquarters were
to be in this village of Seckenheim,
and, in company with several
officers took possession of a large house
and prepared to pass the night
there. While we were resting from the
fatigues of the day we heard a great
noise, and soon after a frightful
uproar. It was caused by a body of our men, who,
searching for water,
had discovered this village, and
after having quenched their thirst had,
under the cover of thick darkness,
set themselves to pillage, to violate,
to massacre, and to commit all the
horrors inspired by the most unbridled
licence: La Bretesche, a
lieutenant-general, declared to me that he had
never seen anything like it,
although he had several times been at
pillages and sackings. He was very grateful that he had not yielded
to
my advice, and taken off his wooden
leg to be more at ease; for in a
short time we ourselves were
invaded, and had some trouble to defend
ourselves. As we bore the livery of M. de Lorges, we
were respected,
but those who bore that of M. de
Joyeuse were in some cases severely
maltreated. We passed the rest of the night as well as we
could in this
unhappy place, which was not
abandoned by our soldiers until long after
there was nothing more to find. At daylight we went to the camp.
We found the army beginning to move:
it had passed the night as well as
it could without order, the troops
constantly arriving, and the last
comers simply joining themselves on
to the rest. Our camp was soon,
however, properly formed, and on the
24th July, the bridges being ready,
all the army crossed the Rhine,
without any attempt being made by the
enemy to follow us. On the day after, the Marechal de Joyeuse
permitted
me to go to Landau, where I remained
with the Marechal and the Marechale
de Lorges until the General was
again able to place himself at the head
of his army.
Nothing of importance was done by
our other armies; but in Flanders an
interesting adventure occurred. The Prince of Orange, after playing a
fine game of chess with our army,
suddenly invested Namur with a large
force, leaving the rest of his
troops under the command of M. de
Vaudemont. The Marechal de Villeroy, who had the command
of our army in
Flanders, at once pressed upon M. de
Vaudemont, who, being much the
weaker of the two, tried hard to
escape. Both felt that everything was
in their hands: Vaudemont, that upon
his safety depended the success of
the siege of Namur; and Villeroy,
that to his victory was attached the
fate of the Low Countries, and very
likely a glorious peace, with all the
personal results of such an
event. He took his measures so well that
on
the evening of the 13th of July it
was impossible for M. de Vaudemont to
escape falling into his hands on the
14th, and he wrote thus to the King.
At daybreak on the 14th M. de
Villeroy sent word to M. du Maine to
commence the action. Impatient that his orders were not obeyed, he
sent
again five or six times. M. du Maine wished in the first instance to
reconnoitre, then to confess
himself, and delayed in effect so long that
M. de Vaudemont was able to commence
his retreat. The general officers
cried out at this. One of them came to M. du Maine and reminded
him of
the repeated orders of the Marechal
de Villeroy, represented the
importance of victory, and the ease
with which it could be obtained: with
tears in his eyes he begged M. du
Maine to commence the attack. It was
all in vain; M. du Maine stammered,
and could not be prevailed upon to
charge, and so allowed M. de
Vaudemont's army to escape, when by a single
movement it might have been entirely
defeated.
All our army was in despair, and
officers and soldiers made no scruple of
expressing their anger and
contempt. M. de Villeroy, more outraged
than
anybody else, was yet too good a
courtier to excuse himself at the
expense of M. du Maine. He simply wrote to the King, that he had been
deceived in those hopes of success
which appeared certain the day before,
entered into no further details, and
resigned himself to all that might
happen. The King, who had counted the hours until
news of a great and
decisive victory should reach him,
was very much surprised when this
letter came: he saw at once that
something strange had happened of which
no intelligence had been sent: he
searched the gazettes of Holland; in
one he read of a great action said
to have been fought, and in which M.
du Maine had been grievously
wounded; in the next the news of the action
was contradicted, and M. du Maine
was declared to have received no wounds
at all. In order to learn what had really taken place,
the King sent for
Lavienne, a man he was in the habit
of consulting when he wanted to learn
things no one else dared to tell
him.
This Lavienne had been a bath-keeper
much in vogue in Paris, and had
become bath-keeper to the King at
the time of his amours. He had pleased
by his drugs, which had frequently
put the King in a state to enjoy
himself more, and this road had led
Lavienne to become one of the four
chief valets de chambre. He was a very honest man, but coarse, rough,
and free-spoken; it was this last
quality which made him useful in the
manner I have before mentioned. From Lavienne the King, but not without
difficulty, learned the truth: it
threw him into despair. The other
illegitimate children were
favourites with him, but it was upon M. du
Maine that all his hopes were
placed. They now fell to the ground, and
the grief of the King was
insupportable: he felt deeply for that dear son
whose troops had become the laughing
stock of the army; he felt the
railleries that, as the gazettes
showed him, foreigners were heaping upon
his forces; and his vexation was
inconceivable.
This
Prince, so equal in his manners, so thoroughly master of his
lightest movements, even upon the
gravest occasions, succumbed under this
event. On rising from the table at Marly he saw a
servant who, while
taking away the dessert, helped
himself to a biscuit, which he put in his
pocket. On the instant, the King forgets his dignity,
and cane in hand
runs to this valet (who little
suspected what was in store for him),
strikes him; abuses him, and breaks
the cane upon his body! The truth
is, 'twas only a reed, and snapped
easily. However, the stump in his
hand, he walked away like a man
quite beside himself, continuing to abuse
this valet, and entered Madame de
Maintenon's room, where he remained
nearly an hour. Upon coming out he met Father la Chaise. "My father,"
said the King to him, in a very loud
voice, "I have beaten a knave and
broken my cane over his shoulders,
but I do not think I have offended
God." Everybody around trembled at this public
confession, and the poor
priest muttered a semblance of
approval between his teeth, to avoid
irritating the King more. The noise that the affair made and the terror
it inspired may be imagined; for
nobody could divine for some time the
cause; and everybody easily
understood that that which had appeared could
not be the real one. To finish with this matter, once for all, let
us
add here the saying of M.
d'Elboeuf. Courtier though he was, the
upward
flight of the illegitimate children
weighed upon his heart. As the
campaign was at its close and the
Princes were about to depart, he begged
M. du Maine before everybody to say
where he expected to serve during the
next campaign, because wherever it
might be he should like to be there
also.
After being pressed to say why, he
replied that "with him one's life was
safe." This pointed remark made much noise. M. du Maine lowered his
eyes, and did not reply one
word. As for the Marechal de Villeroy he
grew more and more in favour with
the King and with Madame de Maintenon.
The bitter fruit of M. du Maine's
act was the taking of Namur, which
capitulated on August 4th
(1695). The Marechal de Villeroy in turn
bombarded Brussels, which was sorely
maltreated. The Marechal de
Boufflers, who had defended Namur,
was made Duke, and those who had
served under him were variously
rewarded. This gave occasion for the
Prince of Orange to say, that the
King recompensed more liberally the
loss of a place than he could the
conquest of one. The army retired into
winter-quarters at the end of
October, and the Generals went to Paris.
As for me, I remained six weeks at
Landau with M. and Madame de Lorges.
At the end of that time, the
Marechal, having regained his health,
returned to the army, where he was
welcomed with the utmost joy: he soon
after had an attack of apoplexy,
and, by not attending to his malady in
time, became seriously ill
again. When a little recovered, he and
Madame
de Lorges set out for Vichy, and I
went to Paris.
CHAPTER
VIII
Before speaking of what happened at
Court after my return, it will be
necessary to record what had
occurred there during the campaign.
M. de Brias, Archbishop of Cambrai,
had died, and the King had given that
valuable preferment to the Abbe de
Fenelon, preceptor of the children of
France. Fenelon was a man of quality, without
fortune, whom the
consciousness of wit--of the
insinuating and captivating kind--united
with much ability, gracefulness of
intellect, and learning, inspired with
ambition. He had been long going about from door to
door, knocking for
admission, but without success. Piqued against the Jesuits, to whom he
had addressed himself at first, as
holding all favours in their hands,
and discouraged because unable to
succeed in that quarter, he turned next
to the Jansenists, to console
himself by the reputation he hoped he
should derive from them, for the
loss of those gifts of fortune which
hitherto had despised him.
He remained a considerable time undergoing
the process of initiation, and
succeeded at last in being of the
private parties that some of the
important Jansenists then held once
or twice a week at the house of the
Duchesse de Brancas. I know not if he appeared too clever for
them, or
if he hoped elsewhere for better
things than he could get among people
who had only sores to share; but
little by little his intimacy with them
cooled; and by dint of turning
around Saint Sulpice, he succeeded in
forming another connection there,
upon which he built greater
expectations. This society of priests was beginning to
distinguish
itself, and from a seminary of a
Paris parish to extend abroad.
Ignorance, the minuteness of their
practices, the absence of all patrons
and of members at all distinguished
in any way, inspired them with a
blind obedience to Rome and to all
its maxims; with a great aversion for
everything that passed for
Jansenism, and made them so dependent upon the
bishops that they began to be
considered an acquisition in many dioceses.
They appeared a middle party, very
useful to the prelates; who equally
feared the Court, on account of
suspicions of doctrine, and the Jesuits
for as soon as the latter had
insinuated themselves into the good graces
of the prelates, they imposed their
yoke upon them, or ruined them
hopelessly;--thus the Sulpicians
grew apace. None amongst them could
compare in any way with the Abbe de
Fenelon; so that he was able easily
to play first fiddle, and to make
for himself protectors who were
interested in advancing him, in
order that they might be protected in
turn.
His piety, which was all things to
all men, and his doctrine that he
formed upon theirs (abjuring, as it
were, in whispers, the impurities he
might have contracted amongst those
he had abandoned)--the charms, the
graces, the sweetness, the
insinuation of his mind, rendered him a dear
friend to this new congregation, and
procured for him what he had long
sought, people upon whom he could
lean, and who could and would serve.
Whilst waiting opportunities, he
carefully courted these people, without
thinking, however, of positively
joining them, his views being more
ambitious; so that he ever sought to
make new acquaintances and friends.
His was a coquettish mind, which
from people the most influential down to
the workman and the lackey sought
appreciation and was determined to
please; and his talents for this
work perfectly seconded his desires.
At this time, and while still
obscure, he heard speak of Madame Guyon,
who has since made so much noise in
the world, and who is too well known
to need that I should dwell upon her
here. He saw her. There was an
interchange of pleasure between
their minds. Their sublimes amalgamated.
I know not if they understood each
other very clearly in that system, and
that new tongue which they hatched
subsequently, but they persuaded
themselves they did, and friendship
grew up between them. Although more
known than he, Madame Guyon was
nevertheless not much known, and their
intimacy was not perceived, because
nobody thought of them; Saint Sulpice
even was ignorant of what was going
on.
The Duc de Beauvilliers became
Governor of the children of France almost
in spite of himself, without having
thought of it. He had to choose a
preceptor for Monseigneur le Duc de
Bourgogne. He addressed himself to
Saint Sulpice, where for a long time
he had confessed, for he liked and
protected it. He had heard speak of Fenelon with eulogy:
the Sulpicians
vaunted his piety, his intelligence,
his knowledge, his talents; at last
they proposed him for
preceptor. The Duc de Beauvilliers saw
him, was
charmed with him, and appointed him
to the office.
As soon as installed, Fenelon saw of
what importance it would be to gain
the entire favour of the Duc de
Beauvilliers, and of his brother-in-law
the Duc de Chevreuse, both very
intimate friends, and both in the highest
confidence of the King and Madame de
Maintenon. This was his first care,
and he succeeded beyond his hopes,
becoming the master of their hearts
and minds, and the director of their
consciences.
Madame de Maintenon dined regularly
once a week at the house of one or
other of the two Dukes, fifth of a
little party, composed of the two
sisters and the two husbands,--with
a bell upon the table, in order to
dispense with servants in waiting,
and to be able to talk without
restraint. Fenelon was at last admitted to this
sanctuary, at foot of
which all the Court was
prostrated. He was almost as successful
with
Madame de Maintenon as he had been
with the two Dukes. His spirituality
enchanted her: the Court soon
perceived the giant strides of the
fortunate Abbe, and eagerly courted
him. But, desiring to be free and
entirely devoted to his great
object, he kept himself aloof from their
flatteries--made for himself a
shield with his modesty and his duties of
preceptor--and thus rendered himself
still more dear to the persons he
had captivated, and that he had so
much interest in retaining in that
attachment.
Among these cares he forgot not his
dear Madame Guyon; he had already
vaunted her to the two Dukes and to
Madame de Maintenon. He had even
introduced her to them, but as
though with difficulty and for a few
moments, as a woman all in God,
whose humility and whose love of
contemplation and solitude kept her
within the strictest limits, and
whose fear, above all, was that she
should become known. The tone of her
mind pleased Madame de Maintenon
extremely; her reserve, mixed with
delicate flatteries, won upon
her. Madame de Maintenon wished to hear
her talk upon matters of piety; with
difficulty she consented to speak.
She seemed to surrender herself to
the charms and to the virtue of Madame
de Maintenon, and Madame de
Maintenon fell into the nets so skilfully
prepared for her.
Such was the situation of Fenelon
when he became Archbishop of Cambrai;
increasing the admiration in which
he was held by taking no step to gain
that great benefice. He had taken care not to seek to procure
himself
Cambrai; the least spark of ambition
would have destroyed all his
edifice; and, moreover, it was not
Cambrai that he coveted.
Little by little he appropriated to
himself some distinguished sheep of
the small flock Madame Guyon had
gathered together. He only conducted
them, however, under the direction
of that prophetess, and, everything
passed with a secrecy and mystery
that gave additional relish to the
manna distributed.
Cambrai
was a thunderbolt for this little flock.
It was the
archbishopric of Paris they
wished. Cambrai they looked upon with
disdain as a country diocese, the
residence in which (impossible to avoid
from time to time) would deprive
them of their pastor. Their grief was
then profound at what the rest of
the world took for a piece of amazing
luck, and the Countess of Guiche was
so affected as to be unable to hide
her tears. The new prelate had not neglected such of his
brethren as
made the most figure; they, in turn,
considered it a distinction to
command his regard. Saint Cyr, that spot so valuable and so
inaccessible, was the place chosen
for his consecration; and M. de Meaux,
dictator then of the episcopacy and
or doctrine, consecrated him. The
children of France were among the
spectators, and Madame de Maintenon was
present with her little court of
familiars. No others were invited; the
doors were closed to those who
sought to pay their court.
The new Archbishop of Cambrai,
gratified with his influence over Madame
de Maintenon and with the advantages
it had brought him, felt that unless
he became completely master of her,
the hopes he still entertained could
not be satisfied. But there was a rival in his way--Godet,
Bishop of
Chartres, who was much in the
confidence of Madame de Maintenon, and had
long discourses with her at Saint
Cyr. As he was, however, of a very ill
figure, had but little support at
Court, and appeared exceedingly simple,
M. de Cambrai believed he could
easily overthrow him. To do this, he
determined to make use of Madame
Guyon, whose new spirituality had
already been so highly relished by
Madame de Maintenon. He persuaded
this latter to allow Madame Guyon to
enter Saint Cyr, where they could
discourse together much more at
their ease than at the Hotel de Chevreuse
or Beauvilliers. Madame Guyon went accordingly to Saint Cyr
two or three
times. Soon after, Madame de Maintenon, who relished
her more and more,
made her sleep there, and their
meetings grew longer. Madame Guyon
admitted that she sought persons
proper to become her disciples, and in a
short time she formed a little
flock, whose maxims and language appeared
very strange to all the rest of the
house, and, above all, to M. de
Chartres. That prelate was not so simple as M. de
Cambrai imagined.
Profound theologian and scholar,
pious, disinterested, and of rare
probity, he could be, if necessary,
a most skilful courtier; but he
rarely exerted this power, for the
favour of Madame de Maintenon sufficed
him of itself. As soon as he got scent of this strange
doctrine, he
caused two ladies, upon whom he
could count, to be admitted to Saint Cyr,
as if to become disciples of Madame
Guyon. He gave them full
instructions, and they played their
parts to perfection. In the first
place they appeared to be ravished,
and by degrees enchanted, with the
new doctrine. Madame Guyon, pleased with this fresh
conquest, took the
ladies into her most intimate
confidence in order to gain them entirely.
They communicated everything to M.
de Chartres, who quietly looked on,
allowed things to take their course,
and, when he believed the right
moment had arrived, disclosed all he
had learnt to Madame de Maintenon.
She was strangely surprised when she
saw the extraordinary drift of the
new doctrine. Troubled and uncertain, she consulted with M.
de Cambrai,
who, not suspecting she had been so
well instructed, became, when he
discovered it, embarrassed, and thus
augmented her suspicions.
Suddenly Madame Guyon was driven
away from Saint Cyr, and prohibited from
spreading her doctrine
elsewhere. But the admiring disciples
she had
made still gathered round her in
secret, and this becoming known, she was
ordered to leave Paris. She feigned obedience, but in effect went no
further than the Faubourg Saint
Antoine, where, with great secrecy, she
continued to receive her flock. But being again detected, she was sent,
without further parley, to the
Bastille, well treated there, but allowed
to see nobody, not even to
write. Before being arrested, however,
she
had been put into the hands of M. de
Meaux, who used all his endeavours
to change her sentiments. Tired at last of his sermons, she feigned
conviction, signed a recantation of
her opinions, and was set at liberty.
Yet, directly after, she held her
secret assemblies in the Faubourg Saint
Antoine, and it was in consequence
of this abuse of freedom that she was
arrested. These adventures bring me far into the year
1696, and the
sequel extends into the following
year. Let us finish this history at
once, and return afterwards to what
happened meanwhile.
Monsieur de Cambrai, stunned but not
overpowered by the reverse he had
sustained, and by his loss of favour
with Madame de Maintenon, stood firm
in his stirrups. After Madame Guyon's abuse of her liberty,
and the
conferences of Issy, he bethought
himself of confessing to M. de Meaux,
by which celebrated trick he hoped
to close that prelate's mouth. These
circumstances induced M. de Meaux to
take pen in hand, in order to expose
to the public the full account of
his affair, and of Madame Guyon's
doctrine; and he did so in a work
under the title of 'Instruction sur les
Etats d'Oyaison'.
While the book was yet unpublished,
M. de Cambrai was shown a copy. He
saw at once the necessity of writing
another to ward off the effect of
such a blow. He must have had a great deal of matter
already prepared,
otherwise the diligence he used
would be incredible. Before M. de
Meaux's book was ready, M. de Cambrai's,
entitled 'Maximes des Saints',
was published and distributed. M. de Chevreuse, who corrected the
proofs, installed himself at the
printer's, so as to see every sheet as
soon as printed.
This book, written in the strangest
manner, did M. de Cambrai little
service. If people were offended to find it supported
upon no authority,
they were much more so with its
confused and embarrassed style, its
precision so restrained and so
decided, its barbarous terms which seemed
as though taken from a foreign
tongue, above all, its high-flown and far-
fetched thoughts, which took one's
breath away, as in the too subtle air
of the middle region. Nobody, except the theologians, understood
it, and
even they not without reading it
three or four times. Connoisseurs found
in it a pure Quietism, which,
although wrapped up in fine language, was
clearly visible. I do not give my own judgment of things so
much beyond
me, but repeat what was said
everywhere. Nothing else was talked
about,
even by the ladies; and a propos of
this, the saying of Madame de Sevigne
was revived: "Make religion a
little more palpable; it evaporates by dint
of being over-refined."
Not a word was heard in praise of
the book; everybody was opposed to it,
and it was the means of making
Madame de Maintenon more unfavourable to
M. de Cambrai than ever. He sent the King a copy, without informing
her.
This completed her annoyance against
him. M. de Cambrai, finding his
book so ill-received by the Court
and by the prelates, determined to try
and support it on the authority of
Rome, a step quite opposed to our
manners. In the mean time, M. de Meaux's book appeared
in two volumes
octavo, well written, clear, modest,
and supported upon the authority of
the Scriptures. It was received with avidity, and absolutely
devoured.
There was not a person at the Court
who did not take a pleasure in
reading it, so that for a long time
it was the common subject of
conversation of the Court and of the
town.
These two books, so opposed in
doctrine and in style, made such a stir on
every side that the King interposed,
and forced M. de Cambrai to submit
his work to an examination by a
council of prelates, whom he named.
M. de Cambrai asked permission to go
to Rome to defend his cause in
person, but this the King refused. He sent his book, therefore, to the
Pope, and had the annoyance to
receive a dry, cold reply, and to see
M. de Meaux's book triumph. His good fortune was in effect at an end.
He remained at Court some little
time, but the King was soon irritated
against him, sent him off post-haste
to Paris, and from there to his
diocese, whence he has never
returned. He left behind him a letter
for
one of his friends, M. de Chevreuse
it was generally believed, which
immediately after became
public. It appeared like the manifesto
of a man
who disgorges his bile and restrains
himself no more, because he has
nothing more to hope. The letter, bold and bitter in style, was
besides
so full of ability and artifice,
that it was extremely pleasant to read,
without finding approvers; so true
it is that a wise and disdainful
silence is difficult to keep under
reverses.
ETEXT
EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
Aptitude
did not come up to my desire
Believed that to undertake and
succeed were only the same things
Exceeded
all that was promised of her, and all that I had hoped
He had pleased (the King) by his
drugs
King
was being wheeled in his easy chair in the gardens
Less easily forget the injuries we
inflict than those received
Make religion a little more palpable
Manifesto of a man who disgorges his
bile
Mightily tired of masters and books
More facility I have as King to
gratify myself
My wife went to bed, and received a
crowd of visitors
People
who had only sores to share
Persuaded themselves they understood
each other
Received
all the Court in her bed
Saw peace desired were they less
inclined to listen to terms
Spark
of ambition would have destroyed all his edifice
Sulpicians
The safest place on the Continent
Wise and disdainful silence is
difficult to keep under reverses
With him one's life was safe
End of this Project Gutenberg Etext
of Memoirs of Louis XIV. and Regency, v1
by the Duc de Saint-Simon
