Том 12

                              VOLUME 12.

CHAPTER LXXXVIII

Policy and Schemes of Alberoni.--He is Made a Cardinal.--Other Rewards

Bestowed on Him.--Dispute with the Majordomo.--An Irruption into the

Royal Apartment.--The Cardinal Thrashed.--Extraordinary Scene.

CHAPTER LXXXIX

Anecdote of the Duc d'Orleans.--He Pretends to Reform --Trick Played upon

Me.--His Hoaxes.--His Panegyric of Me.--Madame de Sabran.--How the Regent

Treated His Mistresses.

CHAPTER XC

Encroachments of the Parliament.--The Money Edict.--Conflict of Powers--

Vigorous Conduct of the Parliament.--Opposed with Equal Vigour by the

Regent.--Anecdote of the Duchesse du Maine.--Further Proceedings of the

Parliament.--Influence of the Reading of Memoirs.--Conduct of the

Regent.--My Political Attitude.--Conversation with the Regent on the

Subject of the Parliament.--Proposal to Hang Law.--Meeting at My House.--

Law Takes Refuge in the Palais Royal.

CHAPTER XCI

Proposed Bed of Justice.--My Scheme.--Interview with the Regent.--

The Necessary Seats for the Assembly.--I Go in Search of Fontanieu.--

My Interview with Hini.--I Return to the Palace.--Preparations.--

Proposals of M. le Duc to Degrade M. du Maine.--My Opposition.--My Joy

and Delight.--The Bed of Justice Finally Determined On.--A Charming

Messenger.--Final Preparations.--Illness of the Regent.--News Given to

M. du Maine.--Resolution of the Parliament.--Military Arrangements.--I Am

Summoned to the Council.--My Message to the Comte de Toulouse.

CHAPTER XCII

The Material Preparations for the Bed of Justice--Arrival of the Duc

d'Orleans:--The Council Chamber.--Attitude of the Various Actors.--The

Duc du Maine.--Various Movements.--Arrival of the Duc de Toulouse.--

Anxiety of the Two Bastards.--They Leave the Room.--Subsequent

Proceedings.--Arrangement of the Council Chamber.--Speech of the Regent.

--Countenances of the Members of Council.--The Regent Explains the Object

of the Bed of Justice.--Speech of the Keeper of the Seals.--Taking the

Votes.--Incidents That Followed.--New Speech of the Duc d'Orleans.--

Against the Bastards.--My Joy.--I Express My Opinion Modestly.--Exception

in Favour of the Comte de Toulouse.--New Proposal of M. le Duc.--Its

Effect.--Threatened Disobedience of the Parliament.--Proper Measures.--

The Parliament Sets Out.

CHAPTER XCIII

Continuation of the Scene in the Council Chamber.--Slowness of the

Parliament.--They Arrive at Last.--The King Fetched.--Commencement of the

Bed of Justice.--My Arrival.--Its Effect.--What I Observed.--Absence of

the Bastards Noticed.--Appearance of the King. The Keeper of the Seals.--

The Proceedings Opened.--Humiliation of the Parliament.--Speech of the

Chief-President.--New Announcement.--Fall of the Duc du Maine Announced.

--Rage of the Chief-President.--My Extreme joy.--M. le Duc Substituted

for M. du Maine.--Indifference of the King.--Registration of the Decrees.

CHAPTER XCIV

My Return Home.--Wanted for a New Commission.--Go to the Palais Royal.--

A Cunning Page.--My journey to Saint-Cloud.--My Reception.--Interview

with the Duchesse d'Orleans.--Her Grief.--My Embarrassment.--Interview

with Madame.--Her Triumph.--Letter of the Duchesse d'Orleans.--She Comes

to Paris.--Quarrels with the Regent.

CHAPTER XCV

Intrigues of M. du Maine.--And of Cellamare, the Spanish Ambassador.--

Monteleon and Portocarrero.--Their Despatches.--How Signed.--The

Conspiracy Revealed.--Conduct of the Regent.--Arrest of Cellamare.--His

House Searched.--The Regency Council.--Speech of the Duc d'Orleans.--

Resolutions Come To.--Arrests.--Relations with Spain.--Alberoni and

Saint-Aignan.--Their Quarrel.--Escape of Saint-Aignan.

CHAPTER XCVI

The Regent Sends for Me.--Guilt of the Duc de Maine.--Proposed Arrest.--

Discussion on the Prison to Be Chosen.--The Arrest.--His Dejection.--

Arrest of the Duchess.--Her Rage.--Taken to Dijon.--Other Arrests.--

Conduct of the Comte de Toulouse.--The Faux Sauniers.--Imprisonment of

the Duc and Duchesse du Maine.--Their Sham Disagreement.--Their

Liberation.--Their Reconciliation.

CHAPTER LXXXVIII

The Abbe Alberoni, having risen by the means I have described, and

acquired power by following in the track of the Princesse des Ursins,

governed Spain like a master.  He had the most ambitious projects.  One

of his ideas was to drive all strangers, especially the French, out of

the West Indies; and he hoped to make use of the Dutch to attain this

end.  But Holland was too much in the dependence of England.

At home Alberoni proposed many useful reforms, and endeavoured to

diminish the expenses of the royal household.  He thought, with reason,

that a strong navy was the necessary basis of the power of Spain; and to

create one he endeavoured to economise the public money.  He flattered

the King with the idea that next year he would arm forty vessels to

protect the commerce of the Spanish Indies.  He had the address to boast

of his disinterestedness, in that whilst working at all manner of

business he had never received any grace from the King, and lived only

on fifty pistoles, which the Duke of Parma, his master, gave him every

month; and therefore he made gently some complaints against the

ingratitude of princes.

Alberoni had persuaded the Queen of Spain to keep her husband shut up,

as had the Princesse des Ursins.  This was a certain means of governing a

prince whose temperament and whose conscience equally attached him to his

spouse.  He was soon completely governed once more--under lock and key,

as it were, night and day.  By this means the Queen was jailoress and

prisoner at the same time.  As she was constantly with the King nobody

could come to her.  Thus Alberoni kept them both shut up, with the key of

their prison in his pocket.

One of the chief objects of his ambition was the Cardinal's hat.  It

would be too long to relate the schemes he set on foot to attain his end.

He was opposed by a violent party at Rome; but at last his inflexible

will and extreme cunning gained the day.  The Pope, no longer able to

resist the menaces of the King of Spain, and dreading the vengeance of

the all-powerful minister, consented to grant the favour that minister

had so pertinaciously demanded.  Alberoni was made Cardinal on the 12th

of July, 1717.  Not a soul approved this promotion when it was announced

at the consistory.  Not a single cardinal uttered a word in praise of the

new confrere, but many openly disapproved his nomination.  Alberoni's

good fortune did not stop here.  At the death, some little time after,

of the Bishop of Malaga, that rich see, worth thirty thousand ecus a

year, was given to him.  He received it as the mere introduction to the

grandest and richest sees of Spain, when they should become vacant.

The King of Spain gave him also twenty thousand ducats, to be levied upon

property confiscated for political reasons.  Shortly after, Cardinal

Arias, Archbishop of Seville, having died, Alberoni was named to this

rich archbishopric.

In the middle of his grandeur and good luck he met with an adventure that

must have strangely disconcerted him.

I have before explained how Madame des Ursins and the deceased Queen had

kept the King of Spain screened from all eyes, inaccessible to all his

Court, a very palace-hermit.  Alberoni, as I have said, followed their

example.  He kept the King even more closely imprisoned than before, and

allowed no one, except a few indispensable attendants, to approach him.

These attendants were a small number of valets and doctors, two gentlemen

of the chamber, one or two ladies, and the majordomo-major of the King.

This last post was filled by the Duc d'Escalone, always called Marquis de

Villena, in every way one of the greatest noblemen in Spain, and most

respected and revered of all, and justly so, for his virtue, his

appointment, and his services.

Now the King's doctors are entirely under the authority of the majordomo-

major.  He ought to be present at all their consultations; the King

should take no remedy that he is not told of, or that he does not

approve, or that he does not see taken; an account of all the medicines

should be rendered to him.  Just at this time the King was ill.  Villena

wished to discharge the duties attached to his post of majordomo-major.

Alberoni caused it to be insinuated to him, that the King wished to be at

liberty, and that he would be better liked if he kept at home; or had the

discretion and civility not to enter the royal chamber, but to ask at the

door for news.  This was language the Marquis would not understand.

At the end of the grand cabinet of the mirrors was placed a bed, in which

the King was laid, in front of the door; and as the room is vast and

long, it is a good distance from the door (which leads to the interior)

to the place where the bed was.  Alberoni again caused the Marquis to be

informed that his attentions were troublesome, but the Marquis did not

fail to enter as before.  At last, in concert with the Queen, the

Cardinal resolved to refuse him admission.  The Marquis, presenting

himself one afternoon, a valet partly opened the door and said, with much

confusion, that he was forbidden to let him enter.

"Insolent fellow," replied the Marquis, "stand aside," and he pushed the

door against the valet and entered.  In front of him was the Queen,

seated at the King's pillow; the Cardinal standing by her side, and the

privileged few, and not all of them, far away from the bed.  The Marquis,

who, though full of pride, was but weak upon his legs, leisurely

advanced, supported upon his little stick.  The Queen and the Cardinal

saw him and looked at each other.  The King was too ill to notice

anything, and his curtains were closed except at the side where the Queen

was.  Seeing the Marquis approach, the Cardinal made signs, with

impatience, to one of the valets to tell him to go away, and immediately

after, observing that the Marquis, without replying, still advanced, he

went to him, explained to him that the King wished to be alone, and

begged him to leave.

"That is not true," said the Marquis; "I have watched you; you have not

approached the bed, and the King has said nothing to you."

The Cardinal insisting, and without success, took him by the arm to make

him go.  The Marquis said he was very insolent to wish to hinder him from

seeing the King, and perform his duties.  The Cardinal, stronger than his

adversary, turned the Marquis round, hurried him towards the door, both

talking the while, the Cardinal with measure, the Marquis in no way

mincing his words.  Tired of being hauled out in this manner, the Marquis

struggled, called Alberoni a "little scoundrel," to whom he would teach

manners; and in this heat and dust the Marquis, who was weak, fortunately

fell into an armchair hard by.  Angry at his fall, he raised his little

stick and let it fall with all his force upon the ears and the shoulders

of the Cardinal, calling him a little scoundrel--a little rascal--

a little blackguard, deserving a horsewhipping.

The Cardinal, whom he held with one hand, escaped as well as he could,

the Marquis continuing to abuse him, and shaking the stick at him.  One

of the valets came and assisted him to rise from his armchair, and gain

the door; for after this accident his only thought was to leave the room.

The Queen looked on from her chair during all this scene, without

stirring or saying a word; and the privileged few in the chamber did not

dare to move.  I learned all this from every one in Spain; and moreover I

asked the Marquis de Villena himself to give me the full details; and he,

who was all uprightness and truth, and who had conceived some little

friendship for me, related with pleasure all I have written.  The two

gentlemen of the chamber present also did the same, laughing in their

sleeves.  One had refused to tell the Marquis to leave the room, and the

other had accompanied him to the door.  The most singular thing is, that

the Cardinal, furious, but surprised beyond measure at the blows he had

received, thought only of getting out of reach.  The Marquis cried to him

from a distance, that but for the respect he owed to the King, and to the

state in which he was, he would give him a hundred kicks in the stomach,

and haul him out by the ears.  I was going to forget this.  The King was

so ill that he saw nothing.

A quarter of an hour after the Marquis had returned home, he received an

order to retire to one of his estates at thirty leagues from Madrid.  The

rest of the day his house was filled with the most considerable people of

Madrid, arriving as they learned the news, which made a furious sensation

through the city.  He departed the next day with his children.  The

Cardinal, nevertheless, remained so terrified, that, content with the

exile of the Marquis, and with having got rid of him, he did not dare to

pass any censure upon him for the blows he had received.  Five or six

months afterwards he sent him an order of recall, though the Marquis had

not taken the slightest steps to obtain it.  What is incredible is, that

the adventure, the exile, the return, remained unknown to the King until

the fall of the Cardinal!  The Marquis would never consent to see him, or

to hear him talked of, on any account, after returning, though the

Cardinal was the absolute master.  His pride was much humiliated by this

worthy and just haughtiness; and he was all the more piqued because he

left nothing undone in order to bring about a reconciliation, without any

other success than that of obtaining fresh disdain, which much increased

the public estimation in which this wise and virtuous nobleman was held.

CHAPTER LXXXIX

I must not omit to mention an incident which occurred during the early

part of the year 1718, and which will give some idea of the character of

M. le Duc d'Orleans, already pretty amply described by me.

One day (when Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans had gone to Montmartre, which

she quitted soon after) I was walking alone with M. le Duc d'Orleans in

the little garden of the Palais Royal, chatting upon various affairs,

when he suddenly interrupted me, and turning towards me; said, "I am

going to tell you something that will please you."

Thereupon he related to me that he was tired of the life he led, which

was no longer in harmony with his age or his desires, and many similar

things; that he was resolved to give up his gay parties, pass his

evenings more soberly and decently, sometimes at home, often with Madame

la Duchesse d'Orleans; that his health would gain thereby, and he should

have more time for business; that in a little while I might rely upon it

--there would be no more suppers of "roues and harlots" (these were his

own terms), and that he was going to lead a prudent and reasonable life

adapted to his age and state.

I admit that in my extreme surprise I was ravished, so great was the

interest I took in him.  I testified this to him with overflowing heart,

thanking him for his confidence.  I said to him that he knew I for a long

time had not spoken to him of the indecency of his life, or of the time

he lost, because I saw that in so doing I lost my own; that I had long

since despaired of his conduct changing; that this had much grieved me;

that he could not be ignorant from all that had passed between us at

various times, how much I desired a change, and that he might judge of

the surprise and joy his announcement gave me.  He assured me more and

more that his resolution was fixed, and thereupon I took leave of him,

the hour for his soiree having arrived.

The next day I learned from people to whom the roues had just related it,

that M. le Duc d'Orleans was no sooner at table than he burst out

laughing, and applauded his cleverness, saying that he had just laid a

trap for me into which I had fallen full length.  He recited to them our

conversation, at which the joy and applause were marvellous.  It is the

only time he ever diverted himself at my expense (not to say at his own)

in a matter in which the fib he told me, and which I was foolish enough

to swallow, surprised by a sudden joy that took from me reflection, did

honour to me, though but little to him.  I would not gratify him by

telling him I knew of his joke, or call to his mind what he had said to

me; accordingly he never dared to speak of it.

I never could unravel what fantasy had seized him to lead him to hoax me

in this manner, since for many years I had never opened my mouth

concerning the life he led, whilst he, on his side, had said not a word

to me relating to it.  Yet it is true that sometimes being alone with

confidential valets, some complaints have escaped him (but never before

others) that I ill-treated him, and spoke hastily to him, but all was

said in two words, without bitterness, and without accusing me of

treating him wrongfully.  He spoke truly also; sometimes, when I was

exasperated with stupidity or error in important matters which affected

him or the State, or when he had agreed (having been persuaded and

convinced by good reasons) to do or not to do some essential thing, and

was completely turned from it by his feebleness, his easy-going nature

(which he appreciated as well as I)--cruelly did I let out against him.

But the trick he most frequently played me before others, one of which my

warmth was always dupe, was suddenly to interrupt an important argument

by a 'sproposito' of buffoonery.  I could not stand it; sometimes being

so angry that I wished to leave the room.  I used to say to him that if

he wished to joke I would joke as much as he liked, but to mix the most

serious matters with tomfoolery was insupportable.  He laughed heartily,

and all the more because, as the thing often happened, I ought to have

been on my guard; but never was, and was vexed both at the joke and at

being surprised; then he returned to business.  But princes must

sometimes banter and amuse themselves with those whom they treat as

friends.  Nevertheless, in spite of his occasional banter, he entertained

really sincere esteem and friendship for me.

By chance I learnt one day what he really thought of me.  I will say it

now, so as to leave at once all these trifles.  M. le Duc d'Orleans

returning one afternoon from the Regency Council at the Tuileries to the

Palais Royal with M. le Duc de Chartres (his son) and the Bailli de

Conflans (then first gentleman of his chamber) began to talk of me,

passing an eulogium upon me I hardly dare to repeat.  I know not what had

occurred at the Council to occasion it.  All that I can say is that he

insisted upon his happiness in having a friend so faithful, so unchanging

at all times, so useful to him as I was, and always had been; so sure, so

true, so disinterested, so firm, such as he could meet with in no one

else, and upon whom he could always count.  This eulogy lasted from the

Tuileries to the Palais Royal, the Regent saying to his son that he

wished to teach him how to make my acquaintance, as a support and a

source of happiness (all that I relate here is in his own words); such as

he had always found in my friendship and counsel.  The Bailli de

Conflans, astonished at this abundant eloquence, repeated it to me two

days after, and I admit that I never have forgotten it.  And here I will

say that whatever others might do, whatever I myself (from disgust and

vexation at what I saw ill done) might do, the Regent always sought

reconciliation with me with shame, confidence, confusion, and he has

never found himself in any perplexity that he has not opened his heart to

me, and consulted me, without however always following my advice, for he

was frequently turned from it by others.

He would never content himself with one mistress.  He needed a variety in

order to stimulate his taste.  I had no more intercourse with them than

with his roues.  He never spoke of them to me, nor I to him.  I scarcely

ever knew anything of their adventures.  His roues and valets were always

eager to present fresh mistresses to him, from which he generally

selected one.  Amongst these was Madame de Sabran, who had married a man

of high rank, but without wealth or merit, in order to be at liberty.

There never was a woman so beautiful as she, or of a beauty more regular,

more agreeable, more touching, or of a grander or nobler bearing, and yet

without affectation.  Her air and her manners were simple and natural,

making you think she was ignorant of her beauty and of her figure (this

last the finest in the world), and when it pleased her she was

deceitfully modest.  With much intellect she was insinuating, merry,

overflowing, dissipated, not bad-hearted, charming, especially at table.

In a word, she was all M. le Duc d'Orleans wanted, and soon became his

mistress without prejudice to the rest.

As neither she nor her husband had a rap, they were ready for anything,

and yet they did not make a large fortune.  One of the chamberlains of

the Regent, with an annual salary of six thousand livres, having received

another appointment, Madame de Sabran thought six thousand livres a year

too good to be lost, and asked for the post for her husband.  She cared

so little for him, by the way, that she called him her "mastiff."  It was

she, who, supping with M. le Duc d'Orleans and his roues, wittily said,

that princes and lackeys had been made of one material, separated by

Providence at the creation from that out of which all other men had been

made.

All the Regent's mistresses had one by one their turn.  Fortunately they

had little power, were not initiated into any state secrets, and received

but little money.

The Regent amused himself with them, and treated them in other respects

exactly as they deserved to be treated.

CHAPTER XC

It is time now that I should speak of matters of very great importance,

which led to changes that filled my heart with excessive joy, such as it

had never known before.

For a long time past the Parliament had made many encroachments upon the

privileges belonging to the Dukes.  Even under the late King it had begun

these impudent enterprises, and no word was said against it; for nothing

gave the King greater pleasure than to mix all ranks together in a

caldron of confusion.  He hated and feared the nobility, was jealous of

their power, which in former reigns had often so successfully balanced

that of the crown; he was glad therefore of any opportunity which

presented itself that enabled him to see our order weakened and robbed of

its dignity.

The Parliament grew bolder as its encroachments one by one succeeded.

It began to fancy itself armed with powers of the highest kind.  It began

to imagine that it possessed all the authority of the English Parliament,

forgetting that that assembly is charged with the legislative

administration of the country, that it has the right to make laws and

repeat laws, and that the monarch can do but little, comparatively

speaking, without the support and sanction of this representative

chamber; whereas, our own Parliament is but a tribunal of justice, with

no control or influence over the royal authority or state affairs.

But, as I have said, success gave it new impudence.  Now that the King

was dead, at whose name alone it trembled, this assembly thought that a

fine opportunity had come to give its power the rein.  It had to do with

a Regent, notorious for his easy-going disposition, his indifference to

form and rule, his dislike to all vigorous measures.  It fancied that

victory over such an opponent would be easy; that it could successfully

overcome all the opposition he could put in action, and in due time make

his authority secondary to its own.  The Chief-President of the

Parliament, I should observe, was the principal promoter of these

sentiments.  He was the bosom friend of M. and Madame du Maine, and by

them was encouraged in his views.  Incited by his encouragement, he

seized an opportunity which presented itself now, to throw down the glove

to M. le Duc d'Orleans, in the name of the Parliament, and to prepare for

something like a struggle.  The Parliament of Brittany had recently

manifested a very turbulent spirit, and this was an additional

encouragement to that of Paris.

At first the Parliament men scarcely knew what to lay hold of and bring

forward, as an excuse for the battle.  They wished of course to gain the

applause of the people as protectors of their interests--likewise those

who for their private ends try to trouble and embroil the State--but

could not at first see their way clear.  They sent for Trudaine, Prevot

des Marchand, Councillor of State, to give an account to them of the

state of the Hotel de Ville funds.  He declared that they had never been

so well paid, and that there was no cause of complaint against the

government.  Baffled upon this point, they fastened upon a edict,

recently rendered, respecting the money of the realm.  They deliberated

thereon, deputed a commission to examine the matter, made a great fuss,

and came to the conclusion that the edict would, if acted upon, be very

prejudicial to the country.

Thus much done, the Parliament assembled anew on Friday morning, the 17th

of June, 1718, and again in the afternoon.  At the end they decided upon

sending a deputation to the Regent, asking him to suspend the operation

of the edict, introduce into it the changes suggested by their body, and

then send it to them to be registered.  The deputation was sent, and said

all it had to say.

On the morrow the Parliament again assembled, morning and afternoon, and

sent a message to the Regent, saying, it would not separate until it had

received his reply.  That reply was very short and simple.  The Regent

sent word that he was tired of the meddling interference of the

Parliament (this was not the first time, let me add, that he experienced

it), that he had ordered all the troops in Paris, and round about, to

hold themselves ready to march, and that the King must be obeyed.  Such

was in fact true.  He had really ordered the soldiers to keep under arms

and to be supplied with powder and shot.

The message did not intimidate the Parliament.  The next day, Sunday, the

Chief-President, accompanied by all the other presidents, and by several

councillors, came to the Palais Royal.  Although, as I have said, the

leader of his company, and the right-hand man of M. and Madame du Maine,

he wished for his own sake to keep on good terms with the Regent, and at

the same time to preserve all authority over his brethren, so as to have

them under his thumb.  His discourse then to the Regent commenced with

many praises and much flattery, in order to smooth the way for the three

fine requests he wound up with.  The first of these was that the edict

should be sent to the Parliament to be examined, and to suffer such

changes as the members should think fit to introduce, and then be

registered; the second, that the King should pay attention to their

remonstrances in an affair of this importance, which they believed

prejudicial to the State; the third, that the works recently undertaken

at the mint for recasting the specie should be suspended!

To these modest requests the Regent replied that the edict had been

registered at the Cour des Monnaies, which is a superior court, and

consequently sufficient for such registration; that there was only a

single instance of an edict respecting the money of the realm having been

sent before the Parliament, and then out of pure civility; that the

matter had been well sifted, and all its inconveniences weighed; that it

was to the advantage of the State to put in force this edict; that the

works of the Mint could not be interfered with in any way; finally, that

the King must be obeyed!  It was quite true that the edict had been sent

to the Parliament out of courtesy, but at the suggestion of the Regent's

false and treacherous confidants, valets of the Parliament, such as the

Marechals de Villeroy, and Huxelles, and Besons, Canillac, Effiat, and

Noailles.

Notwithstanding the decisive answer they had received, the Parliament met

the very next day, and passed a decree against the edict.  The council of

the regency, at its sitting on the afternoon of the same day, abrogated

this decree.  Thus, since war was in a measure declared between the

Regent's authority and that of the Parliament, the orders emanating from

the one were disputed by the other, and vice versa.  A nice game of

shuttlecock this, which it was scarce likely could last long!

The Regent was determined to be obeyed.  He prohibited, therefore, the

printing and posting up of the decree of the Parliament.  Soldiers of the

guards, too, were placed in the markets to hinder the refusal of the new

money which had been issued.  The fact is, by the edict which had been

passed, the Louis worth thirty livres was taken at thirty-six livres, and

the crown piece, worth a hundred sous, at six livres instead of five.  By

this edict also government notes were made legal tender until the new

money should be ready.  The finances were thus relieved, and the King

gained largely from the recasting of the coin.  But private people lost

by this increase, which much exceeded the intrinsic value of the metal

used, and which caused everything to rise in price.  Thus the Parliament

had a fine opportunity for trumpeting forth its solicitude for the public

interest, and did not fail to avail itself of it.

During the night a councillor of the Parliament was surprised on

horseback in the streets tearing down and disfiguring the decree of the

Regency Council, which abrogated that of the Parliament.  He was taken to

prison.

On Monday, the 27th of June, the Chief-President, at the head of all the

other presidents, and of forty councillors, went to the Tuileries, and in

the presence of the Regent read the wire-drawn remonstrance of the

Parliament upon this famous edict.  The Keeper of the Seals said that in

a few days the King would reply.  Accordingly on Saturday, the 2nd of

July, the same deputation came again to the Tuileries to hear the reply.

The Regent and all the Princes of the blood were there, the bastards

also.  Argenson, who from lieutenant of police had been made keeper of

the seals, and who in his former capacity had often been ill-used--nay,

even attacked by the Parliament--took good care to show his superiority

over that assembly.  He answered that deputation in the name of the King,

and concluded by saying that the edict would in no way be altered, but

would receive complete application.  The parliamentary gentlemen did not

expect so firm a reply, and withdrew, much mortified.

They were not, however, vanquished.  They reassembled on the 11th and

12th of August, and spat forth all their venom in another decree

specially aimed at the authority of the Regent.  By this decree the

administration of the finances was henceforth entirely to be at the mercy

of the Parliament.  Law, the Scotchman, who, under the favour of M. le

Duc d'Orleans, had been allowed some influence over the State money

matters, was to possess that influence no longer; in fact, all power on

the part of the Regent over the finances was to be taken from him.

After this the Parliament had to take but one step in order to become the

guardian of the King and the master of the realm (as in fact it madly

claimed to be), the Regent more at its mercy than the King, and perhaps

as exposed as King Charles I. of England.  Our parliamentary gentlemen

began as humbly as those of England, and though, as I have said, their

assembly was but a simple court of justice, limited in its jurisdiction

like the other courts of the realm, to judge disputes between private

people, yet by dint of hammering upon the word parliament they believed

themselves not less important than their English brethren, who form the

legislative assembly, and represent all the nation.

M. and Madame du Maine had done not a little to bring about these

fancies, and they continued in secret to do more.  Madame du Maine, it

may be recollected, had said that she would throw the whole country into

combustion, in order not to lose her husband's prerogative.  She was as

good as her word.  Encouraged doubtless by the support they received from

this precious pair, the Parliament continued on its mad career of

impudent presumption, pride, and arrogance.  It assembled on the 22nd of

August, and ordered inquiry to be made of the Regent as to what had

become of all the state notes that had been passed at the Chamber of

justice; those which had been given for the lotteries that were held

every month; those which had been given for the Mississippi or Western

Company; finally, those which had been taken to the Mint since the change

in the specie.

These questions were communicated to the Regent by the King's officers.

In reply he turned his back upon them, and went away into his cabinet,

leaving these people slightly bewildered.  Immediately after this

occurrence it was rumoured that a Bed of justice would soon be held.  The

Regent had not then thought of summoning such an important assembly, and

his weakness and vacillation were such that no one thought he would dare

to do so.

The memoirs of Cardinal de Retz, of Joly, of Madame Motteville, had

turned all heads.  These books had become so fashionable, that in no

class was the man or woman who did not have them continually in hand.

Ambition, the desire for novelty, the skill of those who circulated these

books, made the majority of people hope to cut a figure or make a

fortune, and persuaded them there was as little lack of personages as in

the last minority.  People looked upon Law as the Mazarin of the day--

(they were both foreign)--upon M. and Madame du Maine, as the chiefs of

the Fronde; the weakness of M. le Duc d'Orleans was compared to that of

the Queen-mother, and so on.

To say the truth, all tended towards whatever was extreme--moderation

seemed forgotten--and it was high time the Regent aroused himself from a

supineness which rendered him contemptible, and which emboldened his

enemies and those of the State to brave all and undertake all.  This

lethargy, too, disheartened his servants, and made all healthy activity

on their part impossible.  It had at last led him to the very verge of

the precipice, and the realm he governed to within an inch of the

greatest confusion.  He had need, indeed, to be up and doing!

The Regent, without having the horrible vice or the favourites of Henry

III., had even more than that monarch become notorious for his daily

debauches, his indecency, and his impiety.  Like Henry III., too, he was

betrayed by his most intimate councillors and domestics.  This treachery

pleased him (as it had pleased that King) because it induced him to keep

idle, now from fear, now from interest, now from disdain, and now from

policy.  This torpor was agreeable to him because it was in conformity

with his humour and his tastes, and because he regarded those who

counselled it as good, wise, and enlightened people, not blinded by their

private interests, but seeing clearly things as they were; while he was

importuned with opinions and explanations which would have disclosed the

true state of affairs and suggested remedies.

He looked upon such people as offered these opinions and explanations as

impetuous counsellors, who hurried everything and suggested everything,

who wished to discount the future in order to satisfy their ambition,

their aversion, their different passions.  He kept on his guard against

them; he applauded himself for not being their dupe.  Now, he laughed at

them; often he allowed them to believe he appreciated their reasoning,

that he was going to act and rouse from his lethargy.  He amused them

thus, gained time, and diverted himself afterwards with the others.

Sometimes he replied coldly to them, and when they pressed him too much

he allowed his suspicions to peep out.

Long since I had perceived M. le Duc d'Orleans' mode of action.  At the

first movements of the Parliament, of the bastards, and of those who had

usurped the name of nobility, I had warned him.  I had done so again as

soon as I saw the cadence and the harmony of the designs in progress.  I

had pointed out to him their inevitable sequel; how easy it was to hinder

them at the commencement; how difficult after, especially for a person of

his character and disposition.  But I was not the man for such work as

this.  I was the oldest, the most attached, the freest spoken of all his

servitors; I had given him the best proofs of this in the most critical

times of his life, and in the midst of his universal abandonment; the

counsels I had offered him in these sad days he had always found for his

good; he was accustomed to repose in me the most complete confidence;

but, whatever opinion he might have of me, and of my truth and probity,

he was on his guard against what he called my warmth, and against the

love I had for my dignity, so attacked by the usurpations of the

bastards, the designs of the Parliament, and the modern fancies of a sham

nobility.  As soon as I perceived his suspicions I told him so, and I

added that, content with having done my duty as citizen and as his

servitor, I would say no more on the subject.  I kept my word.  For more

than a year I had not of myself opened my mouth thereon.  If he was

sometimes spoken to before me, and I could not keep quite silent without

being suspected of sulking or pique, I carelessly said something

indefinite, with as little meaning in it as possible, and calculated to

make us drop the subject.

Judge of my surprise, therefore, when as I was working as usual one

afternoon with the Regent, he interrupted me to speak with bitterness of

the Parliament.  I replied with my accustomed coldness and pretended

negligence, and continued my business.  He stopped me, and said that he

saw very well that I would not reply to him concerning the Parliament.

I admitted it was true, and added that he must long since have perceived

this.  Pressed and pressed beyond measure, I coldly remarked that he

could not but remember what I had said to him of the Parliament both

before and after his accession to the regency, that other counsels had

prevailed over mine, and that finding my opinions were misinterpreted by

him, I had resolved to hold my tongue, and had done so.  As the subject

was now reopened I reminded him of a prophecy I had uttered long before,

that he had missed the opportunity of governing the Parliament when he

might have done so with a frown, and that step by step he would allow

himself to be conducted by his easy-going disposition, until he found

himself on the very verge of the abyss; that if he wished to recover his

position he must begin at once to retrace his steps, or lose his footing

for ever!

Such strong words (from my mouth they had been rare of late), pronounced

with a slow, firm coldness, as though I were indifferent to the course he

might adopt, made him feel how little capable I believed him of vigorous

and sustained action, and what trifling trouble I took to make him adopt

my views.  Dubois, Argenson, and Law had also spoken to him, urging him

to take strong measures against the Parliament; the effect of my speech

was therefore marvellous.

It was indeed high time to do something, as I have before remarked.

The Parliament, we found, after passing its last decree, had named a

commission to inquire into the financial edict; this commission was

working in the utmost secrecy; a number of witnesses had already been

examined, and preparations were quietly making to arrest Law some fine

morning, and hang him three hours after within the enclosure of the

Palais de justice.

Immediately this fact became known, the Duc de la Force and Fagon

(Councillor of State) went to the Regent--'twas on the 19th of August,

1718--and spoke to him with such effect, that he ordered them to assemble

with Law that very day at my house in order to see what was to be done.

They came, in fact, and this was the first intimation I had that the

Regent had begun to feel the gravity of his position, and that he was

ready to do something.  In this conference at my house the firmness of

Law, hitherto so great, was shaken so that tears escaped him.  Arguments

did not satisfy us at first, because the question could only be decided

by force, and we could not rely upon that of the Regent.  The safe-

conduct with which Law was supplied would not have stopped the Parliament

an instant.  On every side we were embarrassed.  Law, more dead than

alive, knew not what to say; much less what to do.  His safety appeared

to us the most pressing matter to ensure.  If he had been taken it would

have been all over with him before the ordinary machinery of negotiation

(delayed as it was likely to be by the weakness of the Regent) could have

been set in motion; certainly, before there would have been leisure to

think of better, or to send a regiment of guards to force open the Palais

de justice; a critical remedy at all times, and grievous to the last

degree, even when it succeeds; frightful, if instead of Law, only his

suspended corpse had been found!

I advised Law, therefore, to retire to the Palais Royal, and occupy the

chamber of Nancre, his friend, then away in Spain.  Law breathed again at

this suggestion (approved by de la Force and Fagon), and put it in

execution the moment he left my house.  He might have been kept in safety

at the Bank, but I thought the Palais Royal would be better: that his

retirement there would create more effect, and induce the Regent to hold

firm to his purpose, besides allowing his Royal Highness to see the

financier whenever he pleased.

CHAPTER XCI

This done I proposed, and the others approved my proposition, that a Bed

of Justice should be held as the only means left by which the abrogation

of the parliamentary decrees could be registered.  But while our

arguments were moving, I stopped them all short by a reflection which

came into my mind.  I represented to my guests that the Duc du Maine was

in secret the principal leader of the Parliament, and was closely allied

with Marechal de Villeroy; that both would oppose might and main the

assembling of a Bed of justice, so contrary to their views, to their

schemes, to their projects; that to hinder it they, as guardians of the

young King, would plead on his behalf, the heat, which was in fact

extreme, the fear of the crowd, of the fatigue, of the bad air; that they

would assume a pathetic tone in speaking of the King's health, calculated

to embarrass the Regent; that if he persisted they would protest against

everything which might happen to His Majesty; declare, perhaps, that in

order not to share the blame, they would not accompany him; that the

King, prepared by them, would grow frightened, perhaps, and would not go

to the Parliament without them; that then all would be lost, and the

powerlessness of the Regent, so clearly manifested, might rapidly lead to

the most disastrous results.

These remarks stopped short our arguments, but I had not started

objections without being prepared with a remedy for them.  I said, "Let

the Bed of justice be held at the Tuileries; let it be kept a profound

secret until the very morning it is to take place; and let those who are

to attend it be told so only a few hours before they are to assemble.

By these means no time will be allowed for anybody to object to the

proceeding, to plead the health of the King, the heat of the weather,

or to interfere with the arrangement of the troops which it will be

necessary to make."

We stopped at this: Law went away, and I dictated to Fagon the full

details of my scheme, by which secrecy was to be ensured and all

obstacles provided against.  We finished about nine o'clock in the

evening, and I counselled Fagon to carry what he had written to the Abbe

Dubois, who had just returned from England with new credit over the mind

of his master.

The next day I repaired to the Palais Royal about four o'clock.  A moment

after La Vrilliere came and relieved me of the company of Grancey and

Broglio, two roues, whom I had found in the grand cabinet, in the cool,

familiarly, without wigs.  When M. le Duc d'Orleans was free he led me

into the cabinet, behind the grand salon, by the Rue de Richelieu, and on

entering said he was at the crisis of his regency, and that everything

was needed in order to sustain him on this occasion.  He added that he

was resolved to strike a heavy blow at the Parliament; that he much

approved my proposition respecting the Bed of justice at the Tuileries,

and that it would be held exactly as I had suggested.

I was delighted at his animation, and at the firmness he appeared to

possess, and after having well discussed with him all the inconveniences

of my plan, and their remedy, we came at last to a very important matter,

the mechanical means, so to speak, by which that plan was to be put in

force.  There was one thing to be provided for, which may appear an

exceedingly insignificant matter, but which in truth was of no light

importance.  When a Bed of justice is held, seats one above another must

be provided for those who take part in it.  No room in the Tuileries

possessed such seats and how erect them without noise, without exciting

remarks, without causing inquiries and suspicions, which must inevitably

lead to the discovery and perhaps thereby to the failure of our project?

I had not forgotten this difficulty, however, and I said to the Regent

I would go in secret to Fontanieu, who controlled the crown furniture,

explain all to him, and arrange matters with him so that these seats

should be erected at the very last moment, in time for our purpose, but

too late to supply information that could be made use of by our enemies.

I hurried off accordingly, as soon as I could get away, in search of

Fontanieu.

I had already had some relations with him, for he had married his

daughter to the son of the sister of my brother-in-law, M. de Lauzun.

I had done him some little service, and had therefore every reason to

expect he would serve me on this occasion.  Judge of my annoyance when

upon reaching his house I learned that he had gone almost to the other

end of the town, to the Marais, to conduct a suit at law, in which

Monsieur and Madame de Lauzun were concerned, respecting an estate at

Rondon they claimed!

The porter seeing me so vexed at being obliged to journey so far in

search of Fontanieu, said, that if I would go and speak to Madame

Fontanieu, he would see if his master was not still in the neighbourhood,

at a place he intended to visit before going to the Marais.  I acted upon

this suggestion and went to Madame Fontanieu, whom I found alone.  I was

forced to talk to her of the suit of Monsieur and Madame de Lauzun, which

I pretended was the business I came upon, and cruelly did I rack my

brains to say enough to keep up the conversation.  When Fontanieu

arrived, for he was soon found, fortunately, I was thrown into another

embarrassment, for I had all the pains in the world to get away from

Madame Fontanieu, who, aided by her husband, begged me not to take the

trouble to descend but to discuss the subject where I was as she was as

well informed upon the case as he, I thought once or twice I should never

escape her.  At last, however, I led away Fontanieu, by dint of

compliments to his wife, in which I expressed my unwillingness to weary

her with this affair.

When Fontanieu and I were alone down in his cabinet, I remained some

moments talking to him upon the same subject, to allow the valets who had

opened the doors for us time to retire.  Then, to his great astonishment,

I went outside to see if there were no listeners, and carefully closed

the doors.  After this I said to Fontanieu that I had not come concerning

the affair of Madame de Lauzun, but upon another very different, which

demanded all his industry, a secrecy proof against every trial, and which

M. le Duc d'Orleans had charged me to communicate to him; but that before

explaining myself he must know whether his Royal Highness could certainly

count upon him.

It is strange what an impression the wildest absurdities leave if they

are spread abroad with art.  The first thing Fontanieu did was to tremble

violently all over and become whiter than his shirt.  With difficulty he

stammered out a few words to the effect that he would do for M. le Duc

d'Orleans as much as his duty would permit him to do.  I smiled, looking

fixedly at him, and this smile warned him apparently that he owed me an

excuse for not being quite at ease upon any affair that passed through my

hands; he directly made me one, at all events, and with the confusion of

a man who sees that his first view has dazzled the second, and who, full

of this first view, does not show anything, yet lets all be seen.

I reassured him as well as I could, and said that I had answered for him

to M. le Duc d'Orleans, and afterwards that a Bed of justice was wanted,

for the construction of which we had need of him.

Scarcely had I explained this, than the poor fellow began to take breath,

as though escaping from stifling oppression, or a painful operation for

the stone, and asked me if that was what I wanted?

He promised everything, so glad was he to be let off thus cheaply, and in

truth he kept to his word, both as to the secret and the work.  He had

never seen a Bed of justice, and had not the slightest notion what it was

like.  I sat down on his bureau, and drew out the design of one.  I

dictated to him the explanations in the margin, because I did not wish

them to be in my handwriting.  I talked more than an hour with him; I

disarranged his furniture, the better to show to him the order of the

assembly, and explained to him what was to be done, so that all might be

carried to the Tuileries and erected in a very, few moments.  When I

found I had made everything sufficiently clear, and he had understood me,

I returned to the Palais Royal as though recollecting something, being

already in the streets, to deceive my people.

A servant awaited me at the top of the staircase, and the concierge of

the Palais Royal at the door of M. le Duc d'Orleans' room, with orders to

beg me to write.  It was the sacred hour of the roues and the supper,

at which all idea of business was banished.  I wrote, therefore, to the

Regent in his winter cabinet what I had just done, not without some

little indignation that he could not give up his pleasure for an affair

of this importance.  I was obliged to beg the concierge not to give my

note to M. le Duc d'Orleans unless he were in a state to read it and to

burn it afterwards.

Our preparations for the Bed of justice continued to be actively but

silently made during the next few days.  In the course of the numberless

discussions which arose upon the subject, it was agreed, after much

opposition on my part, to strike a blow, not only at the Parliament, but

at M. du Maine, who had fomented its discontent.  M. le Duc, who had been

admitted to our councils, and who was heart and soul against the

bastards, proposed that at the Bed of justice the education of the young

King should be taken out of the control of M. du Maine and placed in his

hands.  He proposed also that the title of Prince of the Blood should be

taken from him, with all the privileges it conferred, and that he should

be reduced to the rank of a simple Duke and Peer, taking his place among

the rest according to the date of his erection; thus, at a bound, going

down to the bottom of the peerage!

Should these memoirs ever see the light, every one who reads them will be

able to judge how such a proposition as this harmonised with my personal

wishes.  I had seen the bastards grow in rank and importance with an

indignation and disgust I could scarcely contain.  I had seen favour

after favour heaped upon them by the late King, until he crowned all by

elevating them to the rank of Princes of the Blood in defiance of all

law, of all precedent, of all decency, if I must say the word.  What I

felt at this accumulation of honours I have more than once expressed;

what I did to oppose such monstrous innovations has also been said.  No

man could be more against M. du Maine than I, and yet I opposed this

proposition of M. le Duc because I thought one blow was enough at a time,

and that it might be dangerous to attempt the two at once.  M. du Maine

had supporters, nay; he was at the head of a sort of party; strip him of

the important post he held, and what might not his rake, his

disappointment, and his wounded ambition lead him to attempt?  Civil war,

perhaps, would be the result of his disgrace.

Again and again I urged these views, not only upon M. le Duc d'Orleans,

but upon M. le Duc.  Nay, with this latter I had two long stolen

interviews in the Tuileries Gardens, where we spoke without constraint,

and exhausted all our arguments.  But M. le Duc was not to be shaken, and

as I could do no more than I had done to move him, I was obliged at last

to give in.  It was resolved, however, that disgrace should fall upon M.

du Maine alone; that his brother, the Comte de Toulouse, an account of

the devotion to the State he had ever exhibited, and his excellent

conduct since the death of the late King, should, when stripped of his

title like the other, receive it back again the moment after, in

acknowledgment of the services he had rendered to the Regent as

Councillor of State, and as an expression of personal good feeling

towards him, which his excellent qualities so justly merited.

I returned home from my last interview with M. le Duc, and went to mass

at the Jacobins, to which I entered from my garden.  It was not without a

distracted mind.  But I prayed to God sincerely and earnestly to guide my

steps, so that I might labour for His glory and the good of the State

without private ends.  My prayer was heard, and in the sequel I had

nothing to reproach myself with.  I followed the straight road without

turning to the right or to the left.

Fontanieu was waiting for me in my house as I returned home from mass,

and I was obliged to listen to his questions and to reply to them, as

though I had nothing on my mind.  I arranged my chamber like a Bed of

Justice, I made him understand several things; connected with the

ceremonial that he had not under stood before, and that it was essential

he should in no way omit.  Thus everything went on satisfactorily, and I

began to count the hours, by day as well as by night, until the great day

was to arrive on which the arrogant pride of the Parliament was to

receive a check, and the false plumage which adorned the bastards was to

be plucked from them.

In the midst of the sweet joy that I felt, no bitterness entered.  I was

satisfied with the part I had played in this affair, satisfied that I had

acted sincerely, honestly, that I had not allowed my own private motives

to sway me; that in the interests of the State, as opposed to my own

interests, I had done all in my power to save the Duc du Maine.  And yet

I did not dare to give myself up to the rosy thoughts suggested by the

great event, now so rapidly approaching.  I toyed with them instead of

allowing myself to embrace them.  I shrunk from them as it were like a

cold lover who fears the too ardent caresses of his mistress.  I could

not believe that the supreme happiness I had so long pined for was at

last so near.  Might not M. le Duc d'Orleans falter at the last moment?

Might not all our preparations, so carefully conducted, so cleverly

planned, weigh upon his feebleness until they fell to the ground?  It was

not improbable.  He was often firm in promises.  How often was he firm in

carrying them out?  All these questions, all these restless doubts--

natural as it appears to me under the circumstances--winged their way

through my mind, and kept me excited and feverish as though life and

death were hanging on one thread.

In the midst of my reflections, a messenger from M. le Duc d'Orleans,

Millain by name, arrived at my house.  It was on the afternoon of

Thursday, the 25th of August, 1718.  His message was simple.  M. le Duc

d'Orleans was in the same mood as ever, and I was to join him at the

Palais Royal, according to previous agreement, at eight o'clock in the

evening.  The Bed of justice was to be held on the morrow.

Never was kiss given to a beautiful mistress sweeter than that which I

imprinted upon the fat old face of this charming messenger!  A close

embrace, eagerly repeated, was my first reply, followed afterwards by an

overflow of feeling for M. le Duc, and for Millain even, who had worthily

served in this great undertaking.

The rest of the day I passed at home with the Abbe Dubois, Fagon, and the

Duc de la Force, one after the other finishing up our work.  We provided

against everything: If the Parliament refused to come to the Tuileries,

its interdiction was determined on: if any of the members attempted to

leave Paris they were to be arrested; troops were to be assembled in

order to carry out the Regent's orders; we left no accident without its

remedy.

The Abbe Dubois arranged a little code of signals, such as crossing the

legs, shaking a handkerchief, or other simple gestures, to be given the

first thing in the morning to the officers of the body-guards chosen to

be in attendance in the room where the Bed of Justice was to be held.

They were to fix their eyes upon the Regent, and when he made any of the

above signals, immediately to act upon it according to their written

instructions.  The Abbe Dubois also drew out a sort of programme for M.

le Duc d'Orleans, of the different orders he was to give during the

night, fixing the hour for each, so that they might not arrive a minute

too soon or a minute too late, and secrecy thus be maintained to the very

latest moment.

Towards eight o'clock in the evening I went to they Palais Royal.  I was

horror-struck to find M. le Duc d'Orleans in bed with fever, as he said;

I felt his pulse.  Fever, he had, sure enough; perhaps from excitement

caused by the business in hand.  I said to him it was only fatigue of

body and mind, of which he would be quit in twenty-four hours; he, on his

side, protested that whatever it might be, he would hold the Bed of

justice on the morrow.  M. le Duc, who had just entered, was at his

pillow; the chamber lighted by a single wax candle.  We sat down, M. le

Duc and I, and passed in review the orders given and to give, not without

much apprehension on account of this fever, come so strangely out of

season to the healthiest man in the world, and who had never had it

before.

I exhorted the Regent to take as much repose as he could, so that he

might be fully able to execute the great work of the morrow, the safety

of the Regency itself being at stake.  After this I felt his pulse again,

not without fear.  I assured him, however, his illness would be nothing;

without, it is true, being too sure of it myself.  I took my leave about

ten o'clock, and went out of the room with Millain.  When I found myself

alone with him in the cabinet, through which we passed, I embraced him

with an extreme pleasure.  We had entered by the backstairs; we descended

by the same, so as not to be observed.  It was dark, so that on both

occasions we were obliged to grope our way.  Upon arriving at the bottom

I could not refrain from again embracing Millain, so great was my

pleasure, and we separated each to his home.

The arrangements respecting the troops and for summoning the Parliament,

etc., were all carried out to the letter during the night and early

morning.  At the hours agreed upon M. le Duc d'Orleans gave the various

orders.  About four o'clock in the morning the Duc du Maine, as colonel-

general of the Swiss guards, was aroused.  He had not been in bed above

an hour, having just returned from a fete given at the arsenal by Madame

du Maine.  He was doubtless much astonished, but contained himself, hid

his fear, and sent at once to instruct his companies of Swiss guards of

the orders they were to execute.  I don't think he slept very well after

this, uncertain as he must have been what was going to happen.  But I

never knew what he or Madame du Maine did after being thus rudely

disturbed.

Towards five o'clock in the morning drums began to be heard throughout

the town, and soon soldiers were seen in movement.  At six o'clock a

message was sent to the Parliament requesting it to attend at the

Tuileries.  The reply was that the request should be obeyed.  The members

thereupon debated whether they should go to the Tuileries in coaches or

on foot.  The last mode was adopted as being the most ordinary, and in

the hope of stirring the people and arriving at the Tuileries with a

yelling crowd.  What happened will be related in its place.

At the same time, horsemen went to all the Peers and officers of the

Crown, and to all the chevaliers of the order, the governors and

lieutenant-governors of the provinces (who were to accompany the King),

informing them of the Bed of Justice.  The Comte de Toulouse had been to

supper at the house of M. de Nevers, near Saint-Denis, and did not return

until late into the night.  The French and Swiss guards were under arms

in various quarters; the watch, the light horse, and the two companies of

musketeers all ready in their barracks; the usual guard at the Tuileries.

If I had slept but little during the last eight days, I slept still less

that night, so near to the most considerable events.  I rose before six

o'clock, and shortly after received my summons to the Bed of justice, on

the back of which was a note that I was not to be awakened, a piece of

politeness due to the knowledge of the bearer, who was aware that this

summons would teach me nothing I did not know.  All the others had been

awakened, surprised thereby to an extent that may be imagined.

Towards eight o'clock in the morning a messenger from M. le Duc d'Orleans

came to remind me of the Regency Council at eight o'clock, and to attend

it in my mantle.  I dressed myself in black, because I had only that suit

with a mantle, and another, a magnificent one in cloth of gold, which I

did not wish to wear lest it should cause the remark to be made, though

much out of season, that I wished to insult the Parliament and M. du

Maine.  I took two gentlemen with me in my coach, and I went in order to

witness all that was to take place.  I was at the same time full of fear,

hope, joy, reflection, and mistrust of M. le Duc d'Orleans' weakness, and

all that might result from it.  I was also firmly resolved to do my best,

whatever might happen, but without appearing to know anything, and

without eagerness, and I resolved to show presence of mind, attention,

circumspection, modesty, and much moderation.

Upon leaving my house I went to Valincourt, who lived behind the hotel of

the Comte de Toulouse.  He was a very honourable man, of much intellect,

moving among the best company, secretary-general of the navy, devoted to

the Comte de Toulouse ever since his early youth, and possessing all his

confidence.  I did not wish to leave the Comte de Toulouse in any

personal fear, or expose him to be led away by his brother.  I sent

therefore for Valincourt, whom I knew intimately, to come and speak to

me.  He came half-dressed, terrified at the rumours flying over the town,

and eagerly asked me what they all meant.  I drew him close to me and

said, "Listen attentively to me, and lose not a word.  Go immediately to

M. le Comte de Toulouse, tell him he may trust in my word, tell him to be

discreet, and that things are about to happen to others which may

displease him, but that not a hair of his head shall be touched.  I hope

he will not have a moment's uneasiness.  Go! and lose not an instant."

Valincourt held me in a tight embrace.  "Ah, Monsieur," said he, "we

foresaw that at last there would be a storm.  It is well merited, but not

by M. le Comte, who will be eternally obliged to you."  And, he went

immediately with my message to the Comte de Toulouse, who never forgot

that I saved him from the fall of his brother.

CHAPTER XCII

Arrived at the grand court of the Tuileries about eight o'clock without

having remarked anything extraordinary on the way.  The coaches of the

Duc de Noailles, of Marechal de Villars, of Marechal d'Huxelles, and of

some others were already there.  I ascended without finding many people

about, and directed the two doors of the Salle des Gardes, which were

closed, to be opened.  The Bed of justice was prepared in the grand ante-

chamber, where the King was accustomed to eat.  I stopped a short time to

see if everything was in proper order, and felicitated Fontanieu in a low

voice.  He said to me in the same manner that he had arrived at the

Tuileries with his workmen and materials at six o'clock in the morning;

that everything was so well constructed and put up that the King had not

heard a sound; that his chief valet de chambre, having left the room for

some commission about seven o'clock in the morning, had been much

astonished upon seeing this apparatus; that the Marechal de Villeroy had

only heard of it through him, and that the seats had been erected with

such little noise that nobody had heard anything.  After having well

examined everything with my eyes I advanced to the throne, then being

finished; wishing to enter the second ante-chamber, some servants came to

me, saying that I could not go in, all being locked up.  I asked where I

was to await the assembling of the Council, and was admitted to a room

upstairs, where I found a good number of people already congregated.

After chatting some time with the Keeper of the Seals, the arrival of M.

le Duc d'Orleans was announced.  We finished what we had to say, and went

downstairs separately, not wishing to be seen together.

The Council was held in a room which ever since the very hot weather the

King had slept in.  The hangings of his bed, and of the Marechal de

Villeroy's were drawn back.  The Council table was placed at the foot of

one of the beds.  Upon entering the adjoining chamber I found many people

whom the first rumours of such an unexpected occurrence had no doubt led

there, and among the rest some of the Council.  M. le Duc d'Orleans was

in the midst of a crowd at the end of the room, and, as I afterwards

learned, had just seen the Duc du Maine without speaking to him, or being

spoken to.

After a passing glance upon this crowd I entered the Council chamber.  I

found scattered there the majority of those who composed the Council with

serious and troubled looks, which increased my seriousness.  Scarcely

anybody spoke; and each, standing or seated here and there, kept himself

in his place.  The better to examine all, I joined nobody.  A moment

after M. le Duc d'Orleans entered with a gay, easy, untroubled air, and

looked smilingly upon the company.  I considered this of good augury.

Immediately afterwards I asked him his news.  He replied aloud that he

was tolerably well; then approaching my ear, added that, except when

aroused to give his orders, he had slept very well, and that he was

determined to hold firm.  This infinitely pleased me, for it seemed to me

by his manner that he was in earnest, and I briefly exhorted him to

remain so.

Came, afterwards, M. le Duc, who pretty soon approached me, and asked if

I augured well from the Regent, and if he would remain firm.  M. le Duc

had an air of exceeding gaiety, which was perceptible to those behind the

scenes.  The Duc de Noailles devoured everything with his eyes, which

sparkled with anger because he had not been initiated into the secret of

this great day.

In due time M. du Maine appeared in his mantle, entering by the King's

little door.  Never before had he made so many or such profound

reverences as he did now--though he was not usually very stingy of them--

then standing alone, resting upon his stick near the Council table, he

looked around at everybody.  Then and there, being in front of him, with

the table between us, I made him the most smiling bow I had ever given

him, and did it with extreme volupty.  He repaid me in the same coin, and

continued to fix his eyes upon everybody in turn; his face agitated, and

nearly always speaking to himself.

A few minutes after M. le Duc came to me, begging me to exhort M. le Duc

d'Orleans to firmness: then the Keeper of the Seals came forth for the

same purpose.  M. le Duc d'Orleans himself approached me to say something

a moment afterwards, and he had no sooner quitted my side than M. le Duc,

impatient and troubled, came to know in what frame of mind was the

Regent.  I told him good in a monosyllable, and sent him away.

I know not if these movements, upon which all eyes were fixed, began to

frighten the Duc du Maine, but no sooner had M. le Duc joined the Regent,

after quitting me, than the Duc du Maine went to speak to the Marechal de

Villeroy and to D'Effiat, both seated at the end of the room towards the

King's little door, their backs to the wall.  They did not rise for the

Duc du Maine, who remained standing opposite, and quite near them, all

three holding long discourses, like people who deliberate with

embarrassment and surprise, as it appeared to me by the faces of the two

I saw, and which I tried not to lose sight of.

During this time M. le Duc d'Orleans and M. le Duc spoke to each other

near the window and the ordinary entrance door; the Keeper of the Seals,

who was near, joined them.  At this moment M. le Duc turned round a

little, which gave me the opportunity to make signs to him of the other

conference, which he immediately saw.  I was alone, near the Council

table, very attentive to everything, and the others scattered about began

to become more so.  A little while after the Duc du Maine placed himself

where he had been previously: the two he quitted remained as before.

M. du Maine was thus again in front of me, the table between us: I

observed that he had a bewildered look, and that he spoke to himself more

than ever.

The Comte de Toulouse arrived as the Regent had just quitted the two

persons with whom he had been talking.  The Comte de Toulouse was in his

mantle, and saluted the company with a grave and meditative manner,

neither accosting nor accosted: M. le Duc d'Orleans found himself in

front of him and turned towards me, although at some distance, as though

to testify his trouble.  I bent my head a little while looking fixedly at

him, as though to say, "Well, what then?"

A short time afterwards the Comte de Toulouse had a conversation with his

brother, both speaking with agitation and without appearing to agree very

well.  Then the Count approached M. le Duc d'Orleans, who was talking

again to M. le Duc, and they spoke at some length to each other.  As

their faces were towards the wall, nothing but their backs could be seen,

no emotion and scarcely a gesture was visible.

The Duc du Maine had remained where he had spoken to his brother.  He

seemed half dead, looked askance upon the company with wandering eyes,

and the troubled agitated manner of a criminal, or a man condemned to

death.  Shortly afterwards he became pale as a corpse, and appeared to me

to have been taken ill.

He crawled to the end of the table, during which the Comte de Toulouse

came and said a word to the Regent, and began to walk out of the room.

All these movements took place in a trice.  The Regent, who was near the

King's armchair, said aloud, "Now, gentlemen, let us take our places."

Each approached to do so, and as I looked behind mine I saw the, two

brothers at the, door as though about to leave the room.  I leaped, so to

speak, between the King's armchair and M. le Duc d'Orleans, and whispered

in the Regent's ear so as not to be heard by the Prince de Conti:

"Monsieur, look at them.  They are going."

"I know it," he replied tranquilly.

"Yes," I exclaimed with animation, "but do you know what they will do

when they are outside."

"Nothing at all," said he: "the Comte de Toulouse has asked me for

permission to go out with his brother; he has assured me that they will

be discreet."

"And if they are not?" I asked.

"They will be.  But if they are not, they will be well looked after."

"But if they commit some absurdity, or leave Paris?"

"They will be arrested.  Orders have been given, and I will answer for

their execution."

Therefore, more tranquil, I sat down in my place.  Scarcely had I got

there than the Regent called me back, and said that since they had left

the room, he should like to tell the Council what was going to be done

with respect to them.  I replied that the only objection to this, their

presence, being now removed--I thought it would be wrong not to do so.

He asked M. le Duc in a whisper, across the table, afterwards called to

the Keeper of the Seals; both agreed, and then we really seated

ourselves.

These movements had augmented the trouble and curiosity of every one.

The eyes of all, occupied with the Regent, had been removed from the

door, so that the absence of the bastards was by no means generally

remarked.  As soon as it was perceived, everybody looked inquiringly

around, and remained standing in expectation.  I sat down in the seat of

the Comte de Toulouse.  The Duc de Guiche, who sat on the other side of

me, left a seat between us, and still waited for the bastards.  He told

me to approach nearer to him, saying I had mistaken my place.  I replied

not a word, looking on at the company, which was a sight to see.  At the

second or third summons, I replied that he, on the contrary, must

approach me.

"And M. le Comte de Toulouse?" replied he.

"Approach," said I, and seeing him motionless with astonishment, looking

towards the Duc du Maine's seat, which had been taken by the Keeper of

the Seals, I pulled him by his coat (I was seated), saying to him, "Come

here and sit down."

I pulled him so hard that he seated himself near me without understanding

aught.

"But what is the meaning of all this?"  he demanded; "where are these

gentlemen?"

"I don't know," replied I, impatiently; "but they are not here."

At the same time, the Duc de Noailles, who sat next to the Duc de Guiche,

and who, enraged at counting for nothing in preparations for such a great

day, had apparently divined that I was in the plot, vanquished by his

curiosity, stretched over the table in front of the Duc de Guiche, and

said to me:

"In the name of Heaven, M. le Duc, do me the favour to say what all this

means?"

I was at daggers-drawn with him, as I have explained, and had no mercy

for him.  I turned, therefore, towards him with a cold and disdainful

air, and, after having heard him out, and looked at him, I turned away

again.  That was all my reply.  The Duc de Guiche pressed me to say

something, even if it was only that I knew all.  I denied it, and yet

each seated himself slowly, because intent only upon looking around, and

divining what all this could mean, and because it was a long time before

any one could comprehend that we must proceed to business without the

bastards, although nobody opened his mouth.

When everybody was in his place M. le Duc d'Orleans after having far a

moment looked all around, every eye fixed upon him, said that he had

assembled this Regency Council to hear read the resolutions adopted at

the last; that he had come to the conclusion that there was no other

means of obtaining the registration of the finance edict recently passed

than that of holding a Bed of justice; that the heat rendering it

unadvisable to jeopardise the King's health in the midst of the crowd of

the Palais de justice, he had thought it best to follow the example of

the late King, who had sometimes sent for the Parliament to the

Tuileries; that, as it had become necessary to hold this Bed of justice,

he had thought it right to profit by the occasion, and register the

'lettres de provision' of the Keeper of the Seals at the commencement of

the sitting; and he ordered the Keeper of the Seals to read them.

During this reading, which had no other importance than to seize an

occasion of forcing the Parliament to recognize the Keeper of the Seals,

whose person and whose commission they hated, I occupied myself in

examining the faces.

I saw M. le Duc d'Orleans with an air of authority and of attention, so

new that I was struck with it.  M. le Duc, gay and brilliant, appeared

quite at his ease, and confident.  The Prince de Conti, astonished,

absent, meditative, seemed to see nothing and to take part in nothing.

The Keeper of the Seals, grave and pensive, appeared to have too many

things in his head; nevertheless, with bag, wax, and seals near him, he

looked very decided and very firm.  The Duc de la Force hung his head,

but examined on the sly the faces of us all.  Marechal Villeroy and

Marechal de Villars spoke to each other now and then; both had irritated

eyes and long faces.  Nobody was more composed than the Marechal de

Tallard; but he could not hide an internal agitation which often peeped

out.  The Marechal d'Estrees had a stupefied air, as though he saw

nothing but a mist before him.  The Marechal de Besons, enveloped more

than ordinarily in his big wig, appeared deeply meditative, his look cast

down and angry.  Pelletier, very buoyant, simple, curious, looking at

everything.  Torcy, three times more starched than usual, seemed to look

at everything by stealth.  Effiat, meddlesome, piqued, outraged, ready to

boil over, fuming at everybody, his look haggard, as it passed

precipitously, and by fits and starts, from side to side.  Those on my

side I could not well examine; I saw them only by moments as they changed

their postures or I mine; and then not well or for long.  I have already

spoken of the astonishment of the Duc de Guiche, and of the vexation and

curiosity of the Duc de Noailles.  D'Antin, usually of such easy

carriage, appeared to me as though in fetters, and quite scared.  The

Marechal d'Huxelles tried to put a good face on the matter, but could not

hide the despair which pierced him.  Old Troyes, all abroad, showed

nothing but surprise and embarrassment, and did not appear to know where

he was.

From the first moment of this reading and the departure of the bastards,

everybody saw that something was in preparation against them.  What that

something was to be, kept every mind in suspense.  A Bed of justice, too,

prepared in secret, ready as soon as announced, indicated a strong

resolution taken against the Parliament, and indicated also so much

firmness and measure in a Prince, usually supposed to be entirely

incapable of any, that every one was at sea.  All, according as they were

allied to the Parliament or to the bastards, seemed to wait in fear what

was to be proposed.  Many others appeared deeply wounded because the

Regent had not admitted them behind the scenes, and because they were

compelled to share the common surprise.  Never were faces so universally

elongated; never was embarrassment more general or more marked.  In these

first moments of trouble I fancy few people lent an ear to the letters

the Keeper of the Seals was reading.  When they were finished, M. le Duc

d'Orleans said he did not think it was worth while to take the votes one

by one, either upon the contents of these letters or their registration;

but that all would be in favour of commencing the Bed of justice at once.

After a short but marked pause, the Regent developed, in few words, the

reasons which had induced the Council at its last sitting, to abrogate

the decree of the Parliament.  He added, that judging by the conduct of

that assembly, it would have been to jeopardise anew the King's

authority, to send for registration this act of abrogation to the

Parliament, which would assuredly have given in public a proof of formal

disobedience, in refusing to register; that there being no other remedy

than a Bed of justice, he had thought it best to assemble one, but in

secret, so as not to give time or opportunity to the ill-disposed to

prepare for disobedience; that he believed, with the Keeper of the Seals,

the frequency and the manner of the parliamentary remonstrances were such

that the Parliament must be made to keep within the limits of its duty,

which, long since, it seemed to have lost sight of; that the Keeper of

the Seals would now read to the Council the act of abrogation, and the

rules that were to be observed in future.  Then, looking at the Keeper of

the Seals, "Monsieur," said he, "you will explain this better than I.

Have the goodness to do so before reading the decree."

The Keeper of the Seals then spoke, and paraphrased what his Royal

Highness had said more briefly; he explained in what manner the

Parliament had the right to remonstrate, showed the distinction between

its power and that of the Crown; the incompetence of the tribunals in all

matters of state and finance; and the necessity of repressing the

remonstrances of Parliament by passing a code (that was the term used),

which was to serve as their inviolable guide.  All this explained without

lengthiness, with grace and clearness, he began to read the decree, as it

has since been printed and circulated everywhere, some trifling

alteration excepted.

The reading finished, the Regent, contrary to his custom, showed his

opinion by the, praises he gave to this document: and then, assuming the

Regent's tone and air he had never before put on, and which completed the

astonishment of the company, he added, "To-day, gentlemen, I shall

deviate from the usual rule in taking your votes, and I think it will be

well to do so during all this Council."

Then after a slight glance upon both sides of the table, during which you

might have heard a worm crawl, he turned towards M. le Duc and asked him

his opinion.  M. le Duc declared for the decree, alleging several short

but strong reasons.  The Prince de Conti spoke in the same sense.  I

spoke after, for the Keeper of the Seals had done so directly his reading

was finished.  My opinion was given in more general terms so as not to

fall too heavily upon the Parliament, or to show that I arrogated to

myself the right to support his Royal Highness in the same manner as a

prince of the blood.  The Duc de la Force was longer.  All spoke, but the

majority said but little, and some allowed their vexation to be seen, but

did not dare to oppose, feeling that it would be of no use.  Dejection

was painted upon their faces; it was evident this affair, of the

Parliament was not what they expected or wished.  Tallard was the only

one whose face did not betray him; but the suffocated monosyllable of the

Marechal d'Huxelles tore off the rest of the mask.  The Duc de Noailles

could scarcely contain himself, and spoke more than he wished, with

anguish worthy of Fresnes.  M. le Duc d'Orleans spoke last, and with

unusual force; then made a pause, piercing all the company with his eyes.

At this moment the Marechal de Villeroy, full of his own thoughts,

muttered between his teeth, "But will the Parliament come?" This was

gently taken up.  M. le Duc d'Orleans replied that he did not doubt it;

and immediately afterwards, that it would be as well to know when they

set out.  The Keeper of the Seals said he should be informed.  M. le Duc

d'Orleans replied that the door-keepers must be told.  Thereupon up jumps

M. de Troyes.

I was seized with such a sudden fear lest he should go and chatter at the

door with some one that I jumped up also, and got the start of him.  As I

returned, D'Antin, who had turned round to lay wait for me, begged me for

mercy's sake to tell him what all this meant.  I sped on saying that I

knew nothing.  "Tell that to others!  Ho, ho!" replied he.  When he had

resumed his seat, M. le Duc d'Orleans said something, I don't know what,

M. de Troyes still standing, I also.  In passing La Vrilliere, I asked

him to go to the door every time anything was wanted, for fear of the

babbling of M. de Troyes; adding, that distant as I was from the door,

going there looked too peculiar.  La Vrilliere did as I begged him all

the rest of the sitting.

As I was returning to my place, D'Antin, still in ambush, begged me in

the name of heaven, his hands joined, to tell him something.  I kept

firm, however, saying, "You will see."  The Duc de Guiche pressed me as

resolutely, even saying, it was evident I was in the plot.  I remained

deaf.

These little movements over, M. le Duc d'Orleans, rising a little in his

seat, said to the company, in a tone more firm, and more like that of a

master than before, that there was another matter now to attend to, much

more important than the one just heard.  This prelude increased the

general astonishment, and rendered everybody motionless.  After a moment

of silence the Regent said, that the peers had had for some time good

grounds of complaint against certain persons, who by unaccustomed favour,

had been allowed to assume rank and dignity to which their birth did not

entitle them; that it was time this irregularity should be stopped short,

and that with this view, an instrument had been drawn up, which the

Keeper of the Seals would read to them.

A profound silence followed this discourse, so unexpected, and which

began to explain the absence of the bastards.  Upon many visages a sombre

hue was painted.  As for me I had enough to do to compose my, own visage,

upon which all eyes successively passed; I had put upon it an extra coat

of gravity and of modesty; I steered my eyes with care, and only looked

horizontally at most, not an inch higher.  As soon as the Regent opened

his mouth on this business, M. le Duc cast upon me a triumphant look

which almost routed my seriousness, and which warned me to increase it,

and no longer expose myself to meet his glance.  Contained in this

manner, attentive in devouring the aspect of all, alive to everything and

to myself, motionless, glued to my chair, all my body fixed, penetrated

with the most acute and most sensible pleasure that joy could impart,

with the most charming anxiety, with an enjoyment, so perseveringly and

so immoderately hoped for, I sweated with agony at the captivity of my

transport, and this agony was of a voluptuousness such as I had never

felt before, such as I have never felt since.  How inferior are the

pleasures of the senses to those of the mind! and how true it is that the

balance-weight of misfortunes, is the good fortune that finishes them!

A moment after the Regent had ceased speaking, he told the Keeper of the

Seals to read the declaration.  During the reading, which was more than

music to my ears, my attention was again fixed on the company.  I saw by

the alteration of the faces what an immense effect this document, which

embodied the resolutions I have already explained, produced upon some of

our friends.  The whole of the reading was listened to with the utmost

attention, and the utmost emotion.

When it was finished, M. le Duc d'Orleans said he was very sorry for this

necessity, but that justice must be done to the peers as well as to the

princes of the blood: then turning to the Keeper of the Seals asked him

for his opinion.

This latter spoke briefly and well; but was like a dog running over hot

ashes.  He declared for the declaration.  His Royal Highness then called

upon M. le Duc for his opinion.  It was short, but nervous, and polite to

the peers.  M. le Prince de Conti the same.  Then the Regent asked me my

opinion.  I made, contrary to my custom, a profound inclination, but

without rising, and said, that having the honour to find myself the

eldest of the peers of the Council, I offered to his Royal Highness my

very humble thanks and those of all the peers of France, for the justice

so ardently desired, and touching so closely our dignity and our persons,

that he had resolved to render us; that I begged him to be persuaded of

our gratitude, and to count upon our utmost attachment to his person for

an act of equity so longed for, and so complete; that in this sincere

expression of our sentiments consisted all our opinion, because, being

pleaders, we could not be judges also.  I terminated these few words with

a profound inclination, without rising, imitated by the Duc de la Force

at the same moment; all the rest of the Council briefly gave their

opinions, approving what the majority of them evidently did not approve

at all.

I had tried to modulate my voice, so that it should be just heard and no

more, preferring to be indistinct rather than speak too loudly; and

confined all my person to express as much as possible, gravity, modesty,

and simple gratitude.  M. le Duc maliciously made signs to me in smiling,

that I had spoken well.  But I kept my seriousness, and turned round to

examine all the rest.

It would be impossible to describe the aspect of the company.  Nothing

was seen but people, oppressed with surprise that overwhelmed them,

meditative, agitated, some irritated, some but ill at ease, like La Force

and Guiche, who freely admitted so to me.

The opinions taken almost as soon as demanded, M. le Duc d'Orleans said,

"Gentlemen, it is finished, then justice is done, and the rights of

Messieurs the Peers are in safety.  I have now an act of grace to propose

to you, and I do so with all the more confidence, because I have taken

care to consult the parties interested, who support me; and because, I

have drawn up the document in a manner to wound no one.  What I am going

to explain to you, regards the Comte de Toulouse alone.

"Nobody is ignorant how he has disapproved all that has been done in

favour of him and his brother, and that he has sustained it since the

regency only out of respect for the wishes of the late King.  Everybody

knows also his virtue, his merit, his application, his probity, his

disinterestedness.  Nevertheless, I could not avoid including him in the

declaration you have just heard.  Justice furnishes no exception in his

favour, and the rights of the Peers must be assured.  Now that they are

no longer attacked, I have thought fitly to render to merit what from

equity I have taken from birth; and to make an exception of M. le Comte

de Toulouse, which (while confirming the rule), will leave him in full

possession of all the honours he enjoys to the exclusion of every other.

Those honours are not to pass to his children, should he marry and have

any, or their restitution be considered as a precedent to be made use of

at any future time.

"I have the pleasure to announce that the Princes of the Blood consent to

this, and that such of the Peers to whom I have been able to explain

myself, share my sentiments.  I doubt not that the esteem he has acquired

here will render this proposition agreeable to you."  And then turning to

the Keeper of the Seals, "Monsieur, will you read the declaration?"

It was read at once.

I had, during the discourse of his Royal Highness, thrown all my

attention into an examination of the impression it made upon the

assembly.  The astonishment it caused was general; it was such, that to

judge of those addressed, it seemed that they understood nothing; and

they did not recover themselves during all the reading.  I inwardly

rejoiced at success so pleasingly demonstrated and did not receive too

well the Duc de Guiche, who testified to me his disapprobation.  Villeroy

confounded, Villars raging, Effiat rolling his eyes, Estrees beside

himself with surprise, were the most marked.  Tallard, with his head

stretched forward, sucked in, so to speak, all the Regent's words as they

were proffered, and those of the declaration, as the Keeper of the Seals

read them.  Noailles, inwardly distracted, could not hide his

distraction; Huxelles, entirely occupied in smoothing himself, forgot to

frown.  I divided my attention between the declaration and these persons.

The document read, M. le Duc d'Orleans praised it in two words, and

called upon the Keeper of the Seals to give his opinion.  He did so

briefly, in favour of the Comte de Toulouse.  M. le Duc the same; M. le

Prince de Conti the same.  After him, I testified to his Royal Highness

my joy at seeing him conciliate the justice and the safety of the peers

with the unheard-of favour he had just rendered to the virtue of M. le

Comte de Toulouse, who merited it by his moderation, his truthfulness,

his attachment to the State; thus the more he had recognised the

injustice of his elevation to the rank to which he was raised, the more

he had rendered himself worthy of it, and the more it was advantageous to

the peers to yield to merit, (when this exception was confined solely to

his person, with formal and legal precautions, so abundantly supplied by

the declaration) and voluntarily contribute thus to an elevation without

example, (so much the more flattering because its only foundation was

virtue), so as to incite that virtue more and more to the service and

utility of the state; that I declared therefore with joy for the

declaration, and did not fear to add the very humble thanks of the peers,

since I had the honour to be the oldest present.

As I closed my mouth I cast my eyes in front of some, and plainly saw

that my applause did not please, and, perhaps, my thanks still less.  The

others gave their opinion with heavy heart, as it were, to so terrible a

blow, some few muttered I know not what between their teeth, but the

thunderbolt upon the Duc du Maine's cabal was more and more felt, and as

reflection succeeded to the first feeling of surprise, so a bitter and

sharp grief manifested itself upon their faces in so marked a manner,

that it was easy to see it had become high time to strike.

All opinions having been expressed, M. le Duc cast a brilliant leer at

me, and prepared to speak; but the Keeper of the Seals, who, from his

side of the table did not see this movement, wishing also to say

something, M. le Duc d'Orleans intimated to him that M. le Duc had the

start of him.  Raising himself majestically from his seat, the Regent

then said: "Gentlemen, M. le Duc has a proposition to make to you.  I

have found it just and reasonable; I doubt not, you will find it so too."

Then turning towards M. le Duc, he added, "Monsieur, will you explain

it?"

The movement these few words made among the company is inexpressible.

'Twas as though I saw before me people deprived of all power, and

surprised by a new assembly rising up from the midst of them in an asylum

they had breathlessly reached.

"Monsieur," said M. le Duc, addressing himself to the Regent, as usual;

"since you have rendered justice to the Dukes, I think I am justified in

asking for it myself.  The deceased King gave the education of his

Majesty to M. le Duc du Maine.  I was a minor then, and according to the

idea of the deceased King, M. du Maine was prince of the blood, capable

of succeeding to the crown.  Now I am of age, and not only M. du Maine is

no longer prince of the blood, but he is reduced to the rank of his

peerage.  M. le Marechal de Villeroy is now his senior, and precedes him

everywhere; M. le Marechal can therefore no longer remain governor of the

King, under the superintendence of M. du Maine.  I ask you, then, for M.

du Maine's post, that I think my age, my rank, my attachment to the King

and the State, qualify me for.  I hope," he added, turning towards his

left, "that I shall profit by the lessons of M. le Marechal de Villeroy,

acquit myself of my duties with distinction, and merit his friendship."

At this discourse the Marechal de Villeroy almost slipped off his chair.

As soon, at least, as he heard the Words, "Superintendence of the King's

education," he rested his forehead upon his stick, and remained several

moments in that posture.  He appeared even to understand nothing of the

rest of the speech.  Villars and D'Effiat bent their backs like people

who had received the last blow.  I could see nobody on my own side except

the Duc de Guiche, who approved through all his prodigious astonishment.

Estrees became master of himself the first, shook himself, brightened up,

and looked at the company like a man who returns from the other world.

As soon as M. le Duc had finished, M. le Duc d'Orleans reviewed all the

company with his eyes, and then said, that the request of M. le Duc was

just; that he did not think it could be refused; that M. le Marechal de

Villeroy could not be allowed to remain under a person whom he preceded

in rank; that the superintendence of the King's education could not be

more worthily filled than by M. le Duc; and that he was persuaded all

would be of one voice in this matter.  Immediately afterwards, he asked

M. le Prince de Conti to give his opinion, who did so in two words; then

he asked the Keeper of the Seals, whose reply was equally brief; then he

asked me.

I simply said, looking at M. le Duc, that I was for the change with all

my heart.  The rest, M. de la Force excepted (who said a single word),

voted without speaking, simply bowing; the Marshals and D'Effiat scarcely

moved their eyes, and those of Villars glistened with fury.

The opinions taken, the Regent turning towards M. le Duc, said,

"Monsieur, I think you would like to read what you intend to say to the

King at the Bed of Justice."

Therefore M. le Duc read it as it has been printed.  Some moments of sad

and profound silence succeeded this reading, during which the Marechal de

Villeroy, pale and agitated, muttered to himself.  At last, like a man

who has made up his mind, he turned with bended head, expiring eyes, and

feeble voice, towards the Regent, and said, "I will simply say these two

words; here are all the dispositions of the late king overturned, I

cannot see it without grief.  M. du Maine is very unfortunate."

"Monsieur," replied the Regent, in a loud and animated tone, "M. du Maine

is my brother-in-law, but I prefer an open enemy to a hidden one."

At this great declaration several lowered their heads.  The Marechal de

Villeroy nearly swooned; sighs began to make themselves heard near me, as

though by stealth; everybody felt by this that the scabbard was thrown

away.

The Keeper of the Seals, to make a diversion; proposed to read the speech

he had prepared to serve as preface to the decree to be read at the Bed

of justice, abrogating the Parliament decrees; as he was finishing it,

some one entered to say he was asked for at the door.

He went out, returning immediately afterwards, not to his place, but to

M. le Duc d'Orleans, whom he took into a window, meditative silence

reigning around.  The Regent having returned back to his place, said to

the company, he had received information that the Chief-President of the

Parliament, notwithstanding the reply previously made, had proposed that

the Parliament should not go to the Tuileries, asking, "What it was to do

in a place where it would not be free?" that he had proposed to send a

message to the King, stating that "his Parliament would hear his wishes

in their ordinary place of meeting, whenever it should please him to come

or to send."  The Regent added that these propositions had made

considerable sensation, and that the Parliament were at that moment

debating upon them.  The Council appeared much astounded at this news,

but M. le Duc d'Orleans said, in a very composed manner, that he did not

expect a refusal; he ordered the Keeper of the Seals, nevertheless, to

propose such measures as it would be best to take, supposing the motion

of the Chief-President should be carried.

The Keeper of the Seals declared that he could not believe the Parliament

would be guilty of this disobedience, contrary to all law and usage.

He showed at some length that nothing was so pernicious as to expose the

King's authority to a formal opposition, and decided in favour of the

immediate interdiction of the Parliament if it fell into this fault.

M. le Duc d'Orleans added that there was no other course open, and took

the opinion of M. le Duc, which was strongly in his favour.  M. le Prince

de Conti the same, mine also, that of M. de la Force and of M. de Guiche

still more so.  The Marechal de Villeroy, in a broken voice, seeking big

words, which would not come in time to him, deplored this extremity, and

did all he could to avoid giving a precise opinion.  Forced at last by

the Regent to explain himself, he did not dare to oppose, but added that

he assented with regret, and wished to explain the grievous results of

the proposed measure.  But the Regent, interrupting him, said he need not

take the trouble: everything had been foreseen; that it would be much

more grievous to be disobeyed by the Parliament than to force it into

obedience; and immediately after asked the Duc de Noailles his opinion,

who replied that it would be very sad to act thus, but that he was for

it.  Villars wished to paraphrase, but contained himself, and said he

hoped the Parliament would obey.  Pressed by the Regent, he proposed to

wait for fresh news before deciding; but, pressed more closely, he

declared for the interdiction, with an air of warmth and vexation,

extremely marked.  Nobody after this dared to hesitate, and the majority

voted by an inclination of the head.

A short time afterwards it was announced to M. le Duc d'Orleans that the

Parliament had set out on foot, and had begun to defile through the

palace.  This news much cooled the blood of the company, M. le Duc

d'Orleans more than that of any one else.

After this the Regent, in a cheerful manner, called upon the Presidents

of the Councils to bring forward any business they might have on hand,

but not one had any.  The Marechal de Villars said, however, that he had

a matter to produce, and he produced it accordingly, but with a clearness

which, under the circumstances, was extraordinary.  I fancy, however,

that very few knew what he was talking about.  We were all too much

occupied with more interesting matters, and each voted without speaking.

Bad luck to those who had had business to bring forward this day; they

who conducted it would have known but little what they said: they who

listened, still less.

The Council finished thus, from lack of matter, and a movement was made

to adjourn it as usual.  I stepped in front of M. le Prince de Conti to

M. le Duc d'Orleans, who understood me, and who begged the company to

keep their seats.  La Vrilliere went out by order for news, but there was

nothing fresh.

CHAPTER XCIII

It was now a little after ten.  We remained a good half-hour in our

places, talking a little with each other, but on the whole rather silent.

At the end some grew fidgety and anxious, rose and went to the windows.

M. le Duc d'Orleans restrained them as well as he could; but at length

Desgranges entered to say that the Chief-President had already arrived,

in his coach, and that the Parliament was near.  So soon as he had

retired, the Council rose by groups, and could no longer be kept seated.

M. le Duc d'Orleans himself at last rose, and all he could do was to

prohibit everybody from leaving the room under any pretext, and this

prohibition he repeated two or three times.

Scarcely had we risen when M. le Duc came to me, rejoiced at the success

that had hitherto been had, and much relieved by the absence of the

bastards.  Soon after I quitted him the Duc d'Orleans came to me,

overpowered with the same sentiment.  I said what I thought of the

consternation of every one; and painted the expression of M. d'Effiat, at

which he was not surprised.  He was more so about Besons.  I asked if he

was not afraid the bastards would come to the Bed of justice; but he was

certain they would not.  I was resolved, however, to prepare his mind

against that contingency.

I walked about, slowly and incessantly without fixing myself on any one,

in order that nothing should escape me, principally attending to the

doors.  I took advantage of the opportunity to say a word here and a word

there, to pass continually near those who were suspected, to skim and

interrupt all conversations.  D'Antin was often joined by the Duc de

Noailles, who had resumed his habit of the morning, and continually

followed me with his eyes.  He had an air of consternation, was agitated

and embarrassed in countenance--he commonly so free and easy!  D'Antin

took me aside to see whether he could not, considering his position, be

excused from attending the Bed of Justice.  He received permission from

the Regent on certain conditions.

I went then to break in upon the colloquy of D'Effiat and his friends,

and taking them by surprise, caused D'Effiat to say that he had just

heard strange resolutions, that he did not know who had advised them,

that he prayed that M. d'Orleans would find them advantageous.

I replied, agreeing with him.  The Marechal de Villeroy sighed, muttered,

and shook his wig, Villars spoke more at length, and blamed sharply what

had been done.  I assented to everything, being there not to persuade but

to watch.

Nevertheless we grew weary of the slowness of the Parliament, and often

sent out for news.  Several of the Council tried to leave the room,

perhaps to blab, but the Regent would allow no one but La Vrilliere to go

out, and seeing that the desire to leave increased, stood at the door

himself.  I suggested to him that Madame d'Orleans would be in a great

state of uneasiness, and suggested that he should write to her; but he

could not be persuaded to do it, though he promised.

At last the Parliament arrived, and behold us!  like children, all at the

windows.  The members came in red robes, two by two, by the grand door of

the court, which they passed in order to reach the Hall of the

Ambassadors, where the Chief-President, who had come in his carriage with

the president Haligre, awaited them.

The Parliament being in its place, the peers having arrived, and the

presidents having put on their furs behind the screens arranged for that

purpose in an adjoining room, a messenger came to inform us that all was

ready.  The question had been agitated, whether the King should dine

meanwhile, and I had it carried in the negative, fearing lest coming

immediately after to the Bed of justice, and having eaten before his

usual hour, he might be ill, which would have been a grievous

inconvenience.  As soon as it was announced to the Regent that we could

set out, his Royal Highness sent word to the Parliament, to prepare the

deputation to receive the King; and then said aloud to the company, that

it was time to go in search of his Majesty.

At these words I felt a storm of joy sweep over me, at the thought of the

grand spectacle that was going to pass in my presence, which warned me to

be doubly on my guard.  I tried to furnish myself with the strongest dose

of seriousness, gravity, and modesty.  I followed M. le Duc d'Orleans,

who entered the King's room by the little door, and who found the King in

his cabinet.  On the way the Duc d'Albret made me some very marked

compliments, with evident desire to discover something.  I put him off

with politeness, complaints of the crowd, of the annoyance of my dress,

and gained thus the King's cabinet.

The King was dressed as usual.  When the Duc d'Orleans had been a few

moments with him, he asked him if he would be pleased to go: and the way

was instantly' cleared, a procession formed, and the King moved towards

the Hall of the Swiss Guard.

I now hastened to the chamber, where the Bed of justice was to be held.

The passage to it was tolerably, free.  The officers of the body-guard

made place for me and for the Duc de la Force, and Marechal de Villars,

who followed me, one by one.  I stopped a moment in the passage at the

entrance to the room, seized with joy upon seeing this grand spectacle,

and at the thought of the grand movement that was drawing nigh, I needed

a pause in order to recover myself sufficiently to see distinctly what

I looked at, and to put on a new coat of seriousness and of modesty.

I fully expected I should be well examined by a company which had been

carefully taught not to like me, and by the curious spectators waiting to

see what was to be hatched out of so profound a secret, in such an

important assembly, summoned so hastily.  Moreover, nobody was ignorant

that I knew all, at least from the Council of the Regency I had just

left.

I did not deceive myself.  As soon as I appeared, all eyes were fixed

upon me.  I slowly advanced towards the chief greffier, and introducing

myself between the two seats, I traversed the length of the room, in

front of the King's people, who saluted me with a smiling air, and I

ascended over three rows of high seats, where all the peers were in their

places, and who rose as I approached the steps.  I respectfully saluted

them from the third row.

Seated in my elevated place, and with nothing before me, I was able to

glance over the whole assembly.  I did so at once, piercing everybody

with my eyes.  One thing alone restrained me; it was that I did not dare

to fix my eyes upon certain objects.  I feared the fire and brilliant

significance of my looks at that moment so appreciated by everybody: and

the more I saw I attracted attention, the more anxious was I to wean

curiosity by my discreetness.  I cast, nevertheless, a glittering glance

upon the Chief-President and his friends, for the examination of whom I

was admirably placed.  I carried my looks over all the Parliament,

and saw there an astonishment, a silence, a consternation, such as I had

not expected, and which was of good augury to me.  The Chief-President,

insolently crest-fallen, the other presidents disconcerted, and attentive

to all, furnished me the most agreeable spectacle.  The simply curious

(among which I rank those who had no vote) appeared to me not less

surprised (but without the bewilderment of the others), calmly surprised;

in a word, everybody showed much expectation and desire to divine what

had passed at the Council.

I had but little leisure for this examination, for the King immediately

arrived.  The hubbub which followed his entrance, and which lasted until

his Majesty and all who accompanied him were in their places, was another

singularity.  Everybody sought to penetrate the Regent, the Keeper of the

Seals, and the principal personages.  The departure of the bastards from

the cabinet of the Council had redoubled attention, but everybody did not

know of that departure; now everybody perceived their absence.  The

consternation of the Marechals--of their senior--(the governor of the

King) was evident.  It augmented the dejection of the Chief-President,

who not seeing his master the Duc du Maine, cast a terrible glance upon

M. de Sully and me, who exactly occupied the places of the two brothers.

In an instant all the eyes of the assembly were cast, at the same time,

upon us; and I remarked that the meditativeness and expectation increased

in every face.  That of the Regent had an air of gentle but resolute

majesty completely new to it, his eyes attentive, his deportment grave,

but easy.  M. le Duc, sage, measured, but encircled by I know not what

brilliancy, which adorned all his person and which was evidently kept

down.  M. le Prince de Conti appeared dull, pensive, his mind far away

perhaps.  I was not able during the sitting to see them except now and

then, and under pretext of looking at the King, who was serious,

majestic, and at the same time as pretty as can be imagined; grave, with

grace in all his bearing, his air attentive, and not at all wearied,

playing his part very well and without embarrassment.

When all was ready, Argenson, the Keeper of the Seals, remained some

minutes at his desk motionless, looking down, and the fire which sprang

from his eyes seemed to burn every breast.  An extreme silence eloquently

announced the fear, the attention, the trouble, and the curiosity of all

the expectants.  The Parliament, which under the deceased King had often

summoned this same Argenson, and as lieutenant of police had often given

him its orders, he standing uncovered at the bar of the house; the

Parliament, which since the regency had displayed its ill-will towards

him so far as to excite public remark, and which still detained prisoners

and papers to vex him; this Chief President so superior to him, so

haughty, so proud of his Duc du Maine; this Lamoignon, who had boasted he

would have him hanged at his Chamber of justice, where he had so

completely dishonoured himself: this Parliament and all saw him clad in

the ornaments of the chief office of the robe, presiding over them,

effacing them, and entering upon his functions to teach them their duty,

to read them a public lesson the first time he found himself at their

head!  These vain presidents were seen turning their looks from a man who

imposed so strongly upon their pride, and who annihilated their arrogance

in the place even whence they drew it, and rendered them stupid by

regards they could not sustain.

After the Keeper of the Seals (according to the manner of the preachers)

had accustomed himself to this august audience, he uncovered himself,

rose, mounted to the King, knelt before the steps of the throne, by the

side of the middle of the steps, where the grand chamberlain was lying

upon cushions, and took the King's orders, descended, placed himself in

his chair and covered himself.  Let us say it once for all, he performed

the same ceremony at the commencement of each business, and likewise

before and after taking the opinion upon each; at the bar of justice

neither he nor the chamberlain ever speaks otherwise to the King; and

every time he went to the King on this occasion the Regent rose and

approached him to hear and suggest the orders.  Having returned back into

his place, he opened, after some moments of silence, this great scene by

a discourse.  The report of the Bed of justice, made by the Parliament

and printed, which is in the hands of everybody, renders it unnecessary

for me to give the discourse of the Keeper of the Seals, that of the

Chief-President, those of the King's people, and the different papers

that were read and registered.  I will simply content myself with some

observations.  This first discourse, the reading of the letters of the

Keeper of the Seals, and the speech of the Advocate-General Blancmesnil

which followed, the opinions taken, the order given, sometimes reiterated

to keep the two double doors open, did not surprise anybody; served only

as the preface to all the rest; to sharpen curiosity more and more as the

moment approached in which it was to be satisfied.

This first act finished, the second was announced by the discourse of the

Keeper of the Seals, the force of which penetrated all the Parliament.

General consternation spread itself over their faces.  Scarcely one of

the members dared to speak to his neighbour.  I remarked that the Abbe

Pucelle, who, although only counsellor-clerk, was upon the forms in front

of me, stood, so that he might hear better every time the Keeper of the

Seals spoke.  Bitter grief, obviously full of vexation, obscured the

visage of the Chief-President.  Shame and confusion were painted there.

After the vote, and when the Keeper of the Seals had pronounced, I saw

the principal members of the Parliament in commotion.  The Chief-

President was about to speak.  He did so by uttering the remonstrance of

the Parliament, full of the most subtle and impudent malice against the

Regent, and of insolence against the King.  The villain trembled,

nevertheless, in pronouncing it.  His voice broken, his eyes constrained,

his flurry and confusion, contradicted the venomous words he uttered;

libations he could not abstain from offering to himself and his company.

This was the moment when I relished, with delight utterly impossible to

express, the sight of these haughty lawyers (who had dared to refuse us

the salutation), prostrated upon their knees, and rendering, at our feet,

homage to the throne, whilst we sat covered upon elevated seats, at the

side of that same throne.  These situations and these postures, so widely

disproportioned, plead of themselves with all the force of evidence, the

cause of those who are really and truly 'laterales regis' against this

'vas electum' of the third estate.  My eyes fixed, glued, upon these

haughty bourgeois, with their uncovered heads humiliated to the level of

our feet, traversed the chief members kneeling or standing, and the ample

folds of those fur robes of rabbit-skin that would imitate ermine, which

waved at each long and redoubled genuflexion; genuflexions which only

finished by command of the King.

The remonstrance being finished, the Keeper of the Seals mentioned to the

King their wishes, asking further opinions; took his place again; cast

his eyes on the Chief-President, and said: The King wishes to be obeyed,

and obeyed immediately.

This grand speech was a thunder-bolt which overturned councillors and

presidents in the most marked manner.  All of them lowered their heads,

and the majority kept them lowered for a long time.  The rest of the

spectators, except the marshals of France, appeared little affected by

this desolation.

But this--an ordinary triumph--was nothing to that which was to follow.

After an interval of some few minutes, the Keeper of the Seals went up

again to the King, returned to his place, and remained there in silence

some little time.  Then everybody clearly saw that the Parliamentary

affair being finished, something else must be in the wind.  Some thought

that a dispute which the Dukes had had with the Parliament, concerning

one of its usurpations, was now to be settled in our favour.  Others who

had noticed the absence of the bastards, guessed it was something that

affected them; but nobody divined what, much less its extent.

At last the Keeper of the Seals opened his mouth, and in his first

sentence announced the fall of one brother and the preservation of the

other.  The effect of this upon every one was inexpressible.  However

occupied I might be in containing mine, I lost nothing.  Astonishment

prevailed over every other sentiment.  Many appeared glad, either from

hatred to the Duc du Maine, or from affection for the Comte de Toulouse;

several were in consternation.  The Chief-President lost all countenance;

his visage, so self-sufficient and so audacious, was seized with a

convulsive movement; the excess alone of his rage kept him from swooning.

It was even worse at the reading of the declaration.  Each word was

legislative and decreed a fresh fall.  The attention was general; every

one was motionless, so as not to lose a word; all eyes were fixed upon

the 'greffier' who was reading.  A third of this reading over, the Chief-

President, gnashing the few teeth left in his head, rested his forehead

upon his stick that he held in both hands, and in this singular and

marked position finished listening to the declaration, so overwhelming

for him, so resurrectionary for us.

Yet, as for me, I was dying with joy.  I was so oppressed that I feared I

should swoon; my heart dilated to excess, and no longer found room to

beat.  The violence I did myself, in order to let nothing escape me, was

infinite; and, nevertheless, this torment was delicious.  I compared the

years and the time of servitude; the grievous days, when dragged at the

tail of the Parliamentary car as a victim, I had served as a triumph for

the bastards; the various steps by which they had mounted to the summit

above our heads; I compared them, I say, to this court of justice and of

rule, to this frightful fall which, at the same time, raised us by the

force of the shock.  I thanked myself that it was through me this had

been brought about.  I had triumphed, I was revenged; I swam in my

vengeance; I enjoyed the full accomplishment of desires the most vehement

and the most continuous of all my life.  I was tempted to fling away all

thought and care.  Nevertheless, I did not fail to listen to this

vivifying reading (every note of which sounded upon my heart as the bow

upon an instrument), or to examine, at the same time, the impressions it

made upon every one.

At the first word the Keeper of the Seals said of this affair, the eyes

of the two bishop-peers met mine.  Never did I see surprise equal to

theirs, or so marked a transport of joy.  I had not been able to speak to

them on account of the distance of our places; and they could not resist

the movement which suddenly seized them.  I swallowed through my eyes a

delicious draught of their joy, and turned away my glance from theirs,

lest I should succumb beneath this increase of delight.  I no longer

dared to look at them.

The reading finished, the other declaration in favour of the Comte de

Toulouse was immediately commenced by the 'greffier', according to the

command of the Keeper of the Seals, who had given them to him both

together.  It seemed to complete the confusion of the Chief-President and

the friends of the Duc du Maine, by the contrast between the treatment of

the two brothers.

After the Advocate-General had spoken, the Keeper of the Seals mounted to

the King, with the opinions of the Princes of the Blood; then came to the

Duc de Sully and me.  Fortunately I had more memory than he had, or

wished to have; therefore it was exactly my affair.  I presented to him

my hat with a bunch of feathers in the front, in an express manner very

marked, saying to him loudly enough: "No, Monsieur, we cannot be judges;

we are parties to the cause, and we have only to thank the King for the

justice he renders us."

He smiled and made an excuse.  I pushed him away before the Duc de Sully

had time to open his mouth; and looking round I saw with pleasure that my

refusal had been marked by everybody.  The Keeper of the Seals retired as

he came, and without taking the opinions of the peers, or of the bishop-

peers, went to the marshals of France; thence descended to the Chief-

President and to the 'presidents a mortier', and so to the rest of the

lower seats; after which, having been to the King and returned to his

place, he pronounced the decree of registration, and thus put the

finishing touch to my joy.

Immediately after M. le Duc rose, and having made his reverences to the

King forgot to sit down and cover himself to speak, according to the

uninterrupted right and usage of the peers of France; therefore not one

of us rose.  He made, then, slowly and uncovered, the speech which has

been printed at the end of the preceding ones, and read it not very

intelligibly because his organ was not favourable.  As soon as he had

finished, M. le Duc d'Orleans rose, and committed the same fault.  He

said, also standing and uncovered, that the request of M. le Duc appeared

to him just; and after some praises added, that M. le Duc du Maine was

now reduced to the rank given to him by his peerage, M. le Marechal de

Villeroy, his senior, could no longer remain under him, which was a new

and very strong reason in addition to those M. le Duc had alleged.  This

request had carried to the highest point the astonishment of the assembly

and the despair of the Chief-President, and the handful of people who

appeared by their embarrassment to be interested in the Duc du Maine.

The Marechal de Villeroy, without knitting his brow, had a disturbed

look, and the eyes of the chief accuser oftener were inundated with

tears.  I was not able to distinguish well his cousin and intimate friend

the Marechal d'Huxelles, who screened himself beneath the vast brim of

his hat, thrust over his eyes, and who did not stir.  The Chief-

President, stunned by this last thunder-bolt, elongated his face so

surprisingly, that I thought for a moment his chin had fallen upon his

knees.

However, the Keeper of the Seals having called upon the King's people to

speak, they replied that they had not heard the proposition of M. le Duc,

therefore his paper was passed to them from hand to hand, during which

the Keeper of the Seals repeated very kindly what the Regent had added

upon the seniority of the Marechal de Villeroy over the Duc du Maine.

Blancmesnil merely threw his eyes upon the paper of M. le Duc, and spoke,

after which the Keeper of the Seals put it to the vote.  I gave mine loud

enough, and said, "As for this affair I vote with all my heart for giving

the superintendence of the King's education to M. le Duc."

The votes being taken, the Keeper, of the Seals called the chief

'greffier', ordered him to bring his paper and his little bureau near

his, so as to do all at once; and in presence of the King register

everything that had been read and resolved, and signed also.  This was

done without any difficulty, according to forms, under the eyes of the

Keeper of the Seals, who never raised them: but as there were five or six

documents to register they took up a long time.

I had well observed the King when his education was in question, and I

remarked in him no sort of alteration, change, or constraint.  This was

the last act of the drama: he was quite lively now the registrations

commenced.  However, as there were no more speeches to occupy him, he

laughed with those near, amused himself with everything, even remarking

that the Duc de Louvigny had on a velvet coat, and laughed at the heat he

must feel, and all this with grace.  This indifference for M. du Maine

struck everybody, and publicly contradicted what his partisans tried to

publish, viz., that his eyes had been red, but that neither at the Bed of

justice, nor since, he had dared to show his trouble.  The truth is he

had his eyes dry and serene the whole time, and pronounced the name of

the Duc du Maine only once since, which was after dinner the same day,

when he asked where he had gone, with a very indifferent air, without

saying a word more, then or since, or naming his children, who took

little trouble to see him; and when they went it was in order to have

even in his presence their little court apart, and to divert themselves

among themselves.  As for the Duc du Maine, either from policy or because

he thought it not yet time, he only, saw the King in the morning,

sometimes in his bed, and not at all during the rest of the day, except

when obliged by his functions.

During the registration I gently passed my eyes over the whole assembly.,

and though I constantly constrained them, I could not resist the

temptation to indemnify myself upon the Chief-President; I perseveringly

overwhelmed him, therefore, a hundred different times during the sitting,

with my hard-hitting regards.  Insult, contempt, disdain, triumph, were

darted at him from my eyes,--and pierced him to the very marrow often he

lowered his eyes when he caught my gaze once or twice he raised his upon

me, and I took pleasure in annoying him by sly but malicious smiles which

completed his vexation.  I bathed myself in his rage, and amused myself

by making him feel it.  I sometimes played with him by pointing him out

to my two neighbours when he could perceive this movement; in a word, I

pressed upon him without mercy, as heavily as I could.

At last the registration finished, the King descended the throne, and was

followed by the Regent, the two Princes of the Blood, and the necessary

gentlemen of the suite.  At the same time the Marshals of France

descended, and while the King traversed the room, accompanied by the

deputation which had received him, they passed between the seats of the

councillors opposite us, to follow him to the door by which his Majesty

departed; and at the same time the two bishop-peers, passing before the

throne, came to put themselves at our head, and squeezed my hands and

my head (in passing before me) with warm gratification.

We followed them two by two according to seniority, and went straight

forward to the door.  The Parliament began to move directly afterwards.

Place was made for us to the steps.  The crowd, the people, the display

contrasted our conversation and our joy.  I was sorry for it.

I immediately gained my coach, which I found near, and which took me

skilfully out of the court, so that I met with no check, and in a quarter

of an hour after leaving the sitting, I was at home.

I had need of a little rest, for pleasure even is fatigue, and happiness,

pure and untroubled as it may be, wearies the spirit.  I entered my

house, then, at about two o'clock in the afternoon, intending to repose

myself, and in order to do so in security, I closed my door to everybody.

Alas!  I had not been many minutes at home when I was called away to

perform one of the most painful and annoying commissions it was ever my

ill fortune to be charged with.

CHAPTER XCIV.

A little while before leaving the Cabinet of the Council for the Bed of

Justice, M. le Duc d'Orleans had begged me to go to the Palais Royal with

the Keeper of the Seals immediately after the ceremony had ended.  As I

saw that nothing had been undertaken, I thought myself free of this

conference, and was glad to avoid a new proof that I had been in a

secret which had excited envy.  I went, therefore, straight home,

arriving between two and three.  I found at the foot of the steps

the Duc d'Humieres, Louville, and all my family, even my mother, whom

curiosity had drawn from her chamber, which she had not left since the

commencement of the winter.  We remained below in my apartment, where,

while changing my coat and my shirt, I replied to their eager questions;

when, lo!  M. de Biron, who had forced my door which I had closed against

everybody, in order to obtain a little repose, was announced.

Biron put his head in at my door, and begged to be allowed to say a word

to me.  I passed, half-dressed, into my chamber with him.  He said that

M. le Duc d'Orleans had expected me at the Palais Royal immediately after

the Bed of justice, and was surprised I had not appeared.  He added that

there was no great harm done; and that the Regent wished to see me now,

in order that I might execute a commission for him.  I asked Biron what

it was?  He replied that it was to go to Saint-Clerc to announce what had

taken place to Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans!

This was a thunder-bolt for me.  I disputed with Biron, who exhorted me

to lose no time, but to go at once to the Palais Royal, where I was

expected with impatience.  I returned into my cabinet with him, so

changed in aspect that Madame de Saint-Simon was alarmed.  I explained

what was the matter, and after Biron had chatted a moment, and again

pressed me to set out at once, he went away to eat his dinner.  Ours was

served.  I waited a little time in order to recover myself, determined

not to vex M. le Duc d'Orleans by dawdling, took some soup and an egg,

and went off to the Palais Royal.

It was in vain that, using all the eloquence I could command and all the

liberty I dared employ, I protested against being employed for this duty.

I represented to the Regent what an ill-chosen messenger I should be to

carry to Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans news of the disgrace of her brother

the Duc du Maine; I, who had always been such an open and declared enemy

to the bastards!  I represented to him that people would say I went on

purpose to triumph over her at what had been done, and that she herself

would look upon my presence as a kind of insult.  In vain! in vain! were

my arguments, my entreaties, my instances.  M. le Duc d'Orleans had

determined that I should go on this errand, and go I must.

As I left his house to execute my luckless commission, I found one of

Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans' pages, booted and spurred, who had just

arrived from Saint-Cloud.  I begged him to return at once, at a gallop,

and say, on arriving, to the Duchesse Sforze (one of Madame la Duchesse

d'Orleans' ladies) that I should be there soon with a message from M. le

Duc d'Orleans, and to ask her to meet me as I descended from my coach.

My object was to charge her with the message I had to deliver, and not to

see Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans at all.  But my poor prudence was

confounded by that of the page, who had not less than I.  He took good

care not to be the bearer of such ill news as he had just learned at the

Palais Royal, and which was now everywhere public.  He contented himself

with saying that I was coming, sent by M. le Duc d'Orleans, spoke not a

word to the Duchesse Sforze, and disappeared at once.  This is what I

afterwards learned, and what I saw clearly enough on arriving at Saint-

Cloud.

I went there at a gentle trot, in order to give time to the page to

arrive before me, and to the Duchesse Sforze to receive me.  During the

journey I applauded myself for my address, but feared lest I should be

obliged to see Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans after Madame Sforze.  I could

not imagine that Saint-Cloud was in ignorance of what had occurred, and,

nevertheless, I was in an agony that cannot be expressed, and this

increased as I approached the end of my journey.  If it is disagreeable

to announce unpleasant news to the indifferent, how much more is it to

announce them to the deeply interested!

Penetrated with this dolorous sentiment I arrived in the grand court of

Saint-Cloud, and saw everybody at the windows, running from all parts.

I alighted, and asked the first comer to lead me to the Duchesse Sforze,

the position of whose apartments I am unacquainted with.  I was told that

Madame Sforze was in the chapel with Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans.  Then

I asked for the Marechale de Rochefort, and after a time she arrived,

hobbling along with her stick.  I disputed with her, wishing to see

Madame Sforze, who was not to be found.  I was anxious at all events to

go to her room and wait, but the inexorable Marechale pulled me by the

arm, asking what news I brought.  Worn out at last, I said, "News?  news

that you are acquainted with."

"How, acquainted with?" she asked.  "We know nothing, except that a Bed

of justice has been held, and we are expiring to know why, and what has

passed there."

My astonishment at this ignorance was extreme, and I made her swear and

repeat four times over that nothing was known at Saint-Cloud.  I told her

thereupon what had happened, and she, in her turn, astonished, almost

fell backwards!  But where was Madame Sforze?  she came not, and do what

I must, say what I might, I was forced to carry, my message to Madame la

Duchesse d'Orleans.  I was sorely loth to do so, but was dragged by the

hand almost as a sheep is led to the slaughter.

I stood before Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans after having passed through

an apartment filled with her people, fear painted upon all their faces.

I saluted her; but, oh! how differently from my usual manner!  She did

not perceive this at first, and begged me, with a cheerful natural air,

to approach her; but seeing my trouble, she exclaimed, "Good Heavens,

Monsieur, what a face you wear!  What news bring you?"

Seeing that I remained silent and motionless, she became more moved, and

repeated her questions.  I advanced a few steps towards her, and at her

third appeal, I said: "Madame, you know nothing then?"

"No, Monsieur; I simply know that there has been a Bed of justice: what

has passed there I am quite ignorant of."

"Ah, Madame," I replied, half turning away; "I am more unhappy, then,

than I thought to be."

"What is the matter?" exclaimed she; "what has happened?" (rising and

sitting bolt upright on the sofa she was stretched upon.)  "Come near and

sit down!"

I approached; stated that I was in despair.  She, more and more moved,

said to me, "But speak; better to learn bad news from one's friend than

from others."

This remark pierced me to the heart, and made me sensible of the grief I

was going to inflict upon her.  I summoned up courage, and I told her

all.

The tears of Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans flowed abundantly at my

recital.  She did not answer a word, uttered no cry, but wept bitterly.

She pointed to a seat and I sat down upon it, my eyes during several

instants fixed upon the floor.  Afterwards I said that M. le Duc

d'Orleans, who had rather forced upon me this commission, than charged me

with it, had expressly commanded me to tell her that he had very strong

proofs in his hands against M. du Maine; that he had kept them back a

long time, but could no longer do so now.  She gently replied to me that

her brother was very unfortunate and shortly afterwards asked if I knew

what his crime was.  I said that M. le Duc d'Orleans had not told me; and

that I had not dared to question him upon a subject of this nature,

seeing that he was not inclined to talk of it.

More tears shortly afterwards filled her eyes.  Her brother must be very

criminal, she said, to be so treated.

I remained some time upon my seat, not daring to raise my eyes, in the

most painful state possible, and not knowing whether to remain or go

away.  At last I acquainted her with my difficulty; said I fancied she

would like to be alone some little time before giving me her orders, but

that respect kept me equally in suspense as to whether I should go or

stay.  After a short silence, she said she should like to see her women.

I rose, sent them to her, and said to them, if her Royal Highness asked

for me, I should be with the Duchesse Sforze, or the Marechale Rochefort;

but I could find neither of these two ladies, so I went up to Madame.

She rose as soon as I appeared, and said to me, with eagerness, "Well,

Monsieur, what news?"  At the same time her ladies retired, and I was left

alone with her.

I commenced by an excuse for not coming to see her first, as was my duty,

on the ground that M. le Duc d'Orleans had assured me she would not

object to my commencing with Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans.  She did not

object, in fact, but asked me for my news with much eagerness.  I told

her what had happened.  Joy spread over her face.  She replied with a

mighty, "At last!" which she repeated, saying, her son long since ought

to have struck this blow, but that he was too good.  I mentioned to her

that she was standing, but for politeness she remained so.  After some

further talk she begged me to state all the details of this celebrated

morning.

I again recalled to her mind that she was standing, and represented that

what she desired to learn would take a long time to relate; but her ardor

to know it was extreme.  I began then my story, commencing with the very

morning.  At the end of a quarter of an hour, Madame seated herself, but

with the greatest politeness.  I was nearly an hour with her, continually

telling and sometimes replying to her questions.  She was delighted at

the humiliation of the Parliament, and of the bastards, and that her son

had at last displayed some firmness.

At this point the Marechale de Rochefort entered, and summoned me back to

Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans.  I found that princess extended upon the

sofa where I had left her, an inkstand upon her knees and a pen in her

hand.  She had commenced a reply to M. le Duc d'Orleans, but had not been

able to finish it.  Looking at me with an air of gentleness and of

friendship, she observed, "Tears escape me; I have begged you to descend

in order to render me a service; my hand is unsteady, I pray you finish

my writing for me;" and she handed to me the inkstand and her letter.  I

took them, and she dictated to me the rest of the epistle, that I at once

added to what she had written.

I was infinitely amazed at the conciseness and appropriateness of the

expressions she readily found, in the midst of her violent emotion, her

sobs, and her tears.  She finished by saying that she was going to

Montmartre to mourn the misfortunes of her brother, and pray God for his

prosperity.  I shall regret all my life I did not transcribe this letter.

All its expressions were so worthy, so fitting, so measured, everything

being according to truth and duty; and the letter, in fact, being so

perfectly well written, that although I remember it roughly, I dare not

give it, for fear of spoiling it.  What a pity that a mind capable of

such self-possession, at such a moment, should have become valueless from

its leaning towards illegitimacy.

After this I had another interview with Madame, and a long talk with my

sure and trusty friend Madame Sforze.  Then I set out for Paris, went

straight to the Palais Royal, and found M. le Duc d'Orleans with Madame

la Duchesse de Berry.  He was delighted when he heard what Madame had

said respecting him; but he was not particularly pleased when he found

that Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans (who after telling me she would go to

Montmartre, had changed her mind), was coming to the Palais Royal.

I learned afterwards that she came about half an hour after I left.  At

first she was all humility and sorrow, hoping to soften the Regent by

this conduct.  Then she passed to tears, sobs, cries, reproaches,

expecting to make him by these means undo what he had done, and reinstate

M. du Maine in the position he had lost.  But all her efforts proving

vain, she adopted another course: her sorrow turned to rage,--her tears

to looks of anger.  Still in vain.  She could gain nothing; vex and annoy

M. le Duc d'Orleans as she might by her conduct.  At last, finding there

was no remedy to be had, she was obliged to endure her sorrow as best she

might.

As for me, I was erased entirely from her books.  She looked upon me as

the chief cause of what had occurred, and would not see me.  I remained

ever afterwards at variance with her.  I had nothing to reproach myself

with, however, so that her enmity did not very deeply penetrate me.

CHAPTER XCV

It was scarcely to be expected, perhaps, that M. du Maine would remain

altogether quiet under the disgrace which had been heaped upon him by the

proceedings at the Bed of Justice.  Soon indeed we found that he had been

secretly working out the most perfidious and horrible schemes for a long

time before that assembly; and that after his fall, he gave himself up

with redoubled energy to his devilish devices.

Towards the end of this memorable year, 1718, it was discovered that

Alberoni, by means of Cellamare, Spanish Ambassador at our Court, was

preparing a plot against the Regent.  The scheme was nothing less than to

throw all the realm into revolt against the government of M. le Duc

d'Orleans; to put the King of Spain at the head of the affairs of France,

with a council and ministers named by him, and a lieutenant, who would in

fact have been regent; this self-same lieutenant to be no other than the

Duc du Maine!

This precious plot was, fortunately, discovered before it had come to

maturity.  Had such not happened, the consequences might have been very

serious, although they could scarcely have been fatal.  The conspirators

counted upon the Parliaments of Paris and of Brittany, upon all the old

Court accustomed to the yoke of the bastards, and to that of Madame de

Maintenon; and they flung about promises with an unsparing hand to all

who supported them.  After all, it must be admitted, however, that the

measures they took and the men they secured, were strangely unequal to

the circumstances of the case, when the details became known; in fact,

there was a general murmur of surprise among the public, at the

contemptible nature of the whole affair.

But let me relate the circumstances accompanying the discovery of M. du

Maine's pitiable treachery.

Cellamare, as I have said, was Spanish Ambassador at our Court.  He had

been one of the chief movers in the plot.  He had excited, as much as lay

in his power, discontent against the Regent's government; he had done his

best to embroil France with Spain; he had worked heart and soul with M.

du Maine, to carry out the common end they had in view.  So much

preparation had been made; so much of the treason train laid, that at

last it became necessary to send to Alberoni a full and clear account of

all that had been done, so as to paint exactly the position of affairs,

and determine the measures that remained to be taken.  But how to send

such an account as this?  To trust it to the ordinary channels of

communication would have been to run a great risk of exposure and

detection.  To send it by private hand would have been suspicious, if the

hand were known, and dangerous if it were not: Cellamare had long since

provided for this difficulty.

He had caused a young ecclesiastic to be sent from Spain, who came to

Paris as though for his pleasure.  There he was introduced to young

Monteleon, son of a former ambassador at our Court, who had been much

liked.  The young ecclesiastic was called the Abbe Portocarrero, a name

regarded with favour in France.  Monteleon came from the Hague, and was

going to Madrid.  Portocarrero came from Madrid, and was going back

there.  What more natural than that the two young men should travel in

company?  What less natural than that the two young men, meeting each

other by pure accident in Paris, should be charged by the ambassador with

any packet of consequence, he having his own couriers, and the use, for

the return journey, of those sent to him from Spain?  In fact, it may be

believed that these young people themselves were perfectly ignorant of

what they were charged with, and simply believed that, as they were going

to Spain, the ambassador merely seized the occasion to entrust them with

some packet of no special importance.

They set out, then, at the commencement of December, furnished with

passports from the King--(for Alberoni had openly caused almost a rupture

between the two Courts)--with a Spanish banker, who had been established

in England, where he had become bankrupt for a large amount, so that the

English government had obtained permission from the Regent to arrest him,

if they could, anywhere in France.  It will sometimes be perceived that I

am ill-instructed in this affair; but I can only tell what I know: and as

for the rest, I give my conjectures.  In fact, the Abbe Dubois kept

everybody so much in the dark, that even M. le Duc d'Orleans was not

informed of all.

Whether the arrival of the Abbe Portocarrero in Paris, and his short stay

there, seemed suspicious to the Abbe Dubois and his emissaries, or

whether he had corrupted some of the principal people of the Spanish

Ambassador and this Court, and learned that these young men were charged

with a packet of importance; whether there was no other mystery than the

bad company of the bankrupt banker, and that the anxiety of Dubois to

oblige his friends the English, induced him to arrest the three

travellers and seize their papers, lest the banker should have confided

his to the young men, I know not: but however it may have been, it is

certain that the Abbe Dubois arrested the three travellers at Poitiers,

and carried off their papers, a courier bringing these papers to him

immediately afterwards.

Great things sometimes spring from chance.  The courier from Poitiers

entered the house of the Abbe Dubois just as the Regent entered the

opera.  Dubois glanced over the papers, and went and related the news of

this capture to M. le Duc Orleans, as he left his box.  This prince, who

was accustomed to shut himself up with his roues at that hour, did so

with a carelessness to which everything yielded, under pretext that

Dubois had not had sufficient time to examine all the papers.  The first

few hours of the morning he was not himself.  His head, still confused by

the fumes of the wine and by the undigested supper of the previous night,

was not in a state to understand anything, and the secretaries of state

have often told me that was the time they could make him sign anything.

This was the moment taken by Dubois to acquaint the Regent with as much

or as little of the contents of the papers as he thought fit.  The upshot

of their interview was, that the Abbe was allowed by the Duc d'Orleans to

have the control of this matter entirely in his own hands.

The day after the arrival of the courier from Poitiers, Cellamare,

informed of what had occurred, but who flattered himself that the

presence of the banker had caused the arrest of the young men, and the

seizure of their papers, hid his fears under a very tranquil bearing, and

went, at one o'clock in the day, to M. le Blanc, to ask for a packet of

letters he had entrusted to Portocarrero and Monteleon on their return to

Spain.  Le Blanc (who had had his lesson prepared beforehand by the Abbe

Dubois) replied that the packet had been seen; that it contained

important things, and that, far from being restored to him, he himself

must go back to his hotel under escort, to meet there M. l'Abbe Dubois.

The ambassador, who felt that such a compliment would not be attempted

with out means having been prepared to put it in execution, made no

difficulty, and did not lose for a moment his address or his

tranquillity.

During the three hours, at least, passed in his house, in the examination

of all his bureaux and his boxes, and his papers, Cellamare, like a man

who fears nothing, and who is sure of his game, treated M. le Blanc very

civilly; as for the Abbe Dubois, with whom he felt he had no measure to

keep (all the plot being discovered), he affected to treat him with the

utmost disdain.  Thus Le Blanc, taking hold of a little casket, Cellamare

cried, "M. le Blanc, M. le Blanc, leave that alone; that is not for you;

that is for the Abbe Dubois" (who was then present).  Then looking at

him, he added, "He has been a pander all his life, and there are nothing

but women's letters there."

The Abbe Dubois burst out laughing, not daring to grow angry.

When all was examined, the King's seal, and that of the ambassador, were

put upon all the bureaux and the caskets which contained papers.  The

Abbe Dubois and Le Blanc went off together to give an account of their

proceedings to the Regent, leaving a company of musketeers to guard the

ambassador and his household.

I heard of the capture effected at Poitiers, at home, the morning after

it occurred, without knowing anything of those arrested.  As I was at

table, a servant came to me from M. le Duc d'Orleans, summoning me to a

council of the regency, at four o'clock that day.  As it was not the

usual day for the council, I asked what was the matter.  The messenger

was surprised at my ignorance and informed me that the Spanish ambassador

was arrested.  As soon as I had eaten a morsel, I quitted my company, and

hastened to the Palais Royal, where I learnt from M. le Duc d'Orleans all

that I have just related.  Our conversation took up time, and, when it

was over, I went away to the Tuileries.  I found there astonishment

painted upon several faces; little groups of two, three, and four people

together; and the majority struck by the importance of the arrest, and

little disposed to approve it.

M. le Duc d'Orleans arrived shortly after.  He had, better than any man I

have ever known, the gift of speech, and without needing any preparation

he said exactly what he wanted to say, neither more nor less; his

expressions were just and precise, a natural grace accompanied them with

an air of proper dignity, always mixed with an air of politeness.  He

opened the council with a discourse upon the people and the papers seized

at Poitiers, the latter proving that a very dangerous conspiracy against

the state was on the eve of bursting, and of which the Ambassador of

Spain was the principal promoter.  His Royal Highness alleged the

pressing reasons which had induced him to secure the person of this

ambassador, to examine his papers, and to place them under guard.  He

showed that the protection afforded by the law of nations did not extend

to conspiracies, that ambassadors rendered themselves unworthy of that

protection when they took part in them, still more when they excited

people against the state where they dwelt.  He cited several examples of

ambassadors arrested for less.  He explained the orders he had given so

as to inform all the foreign ministers in Paris of what had occurred, and

had ordered Dubois to render an account to the council of what he had

done at the ambassador's, and offered to read the letters from Cellamare

to Cardinal Alberoni, found among the papers brought from Poitiers.

The Abbe Dubois stammered out a short and ill-arranged recital of what he

had done at the ambassador's house, and dwelt upon the importance of the

discovery and upon that of the conspiracy as far as already known.  The

two letters he read left me no doubt that Cellamare was at the head of

this affair, and that Alberoni had entered into it as far as he.  We were

much scandalised with the expressions in these letters against M. le Duc

d'Orleans, who was in no way spared.

This prince spoke again, to say he did not suspect the King or Queen of

Spain to be mixed up in this affair, but that he attributed it all to the

passion of Alberoni, and that of his ambassador to please him, and that

he would ask for justice from their Catholic Majesties.  He showed the

importance of neglecting no means in order to clear up an affair so

capital to the repose and tranquillity of the kingdom, and finished by

saying, that until he knew more he would name nobody who was mixed up in

the matter.  All this speech was much applauded, and I believe there were

some among the company who felt greatly relieved when they heard the

Regent say he would name nobody nor would he allow suspicions to be

circulated until all was unravelled.

Nevertheless the next day, Saturday, the loth of December, more than one

arrest was made.  Others took place a few days afterwards.

On Tuesday, the 13th of December, all the foreign ministers went to the

Palais Royal, according to custom; not one made any complaint of what had

happened.  A copy of the two letters read at the council was given to

them.  In the afternoon, Cellamare was placed in a coach with a captain

of cavalry and a captain of dragoons, chosen to conduct him: to Blois,

until Saint-Aignan, our ambassador in Spain, should arrive in France.

The position of our ambassador, Saint-Aignan, at Madrid, was, as may be

imagined, by no means agreeable.  The two courts were just upon the point

of an open rupture, thanks to the hatred Alberoni had made it a principle

to keep up in Spain against M. le Duc d'Orleans, by crying down his

actions, his government, his personal conduct, his most innocent acts,

and by rendering suspicious even his favourable proceedings with regard

to Spain.  Alberoni for a long time had ceased to keep on even decent

terms with Saint-Aignan, scandalising thus even the most unfavourably

disposed towards France.  Saint-Aignan only maintained his position by

the sagacity of his conduct, and he was delighted when he received orders

to return to France.  He asked for his parting audience, and meanwhile

bade adieu to all his friends and to all the Court.  Alberoni, who every

moment expected decisive news from Cellamare respecting the conspiracy,

wished to remain master of our ambassador, so as, in case of accident,

to have a useful hostage in his hands as security for his own ambassador.

He put off therefore this parting audience under various pretexts.  At

last, Saint-Aignan, pressed by his reiterated orders (orders all the more

positive because suspicion had already begun to foresee a disturbance

ever alarming), spoke firmly to the Cardinal, and declared that if this

audience were not at once accorded to him, he would do without it!

Therefore the Cardinal, in anger, replied with a menace, that he knew

well enough how to hinder, him, from acting thus.

Saint-Aignan wisely contained himself; but seeing to what sort of a man

he was exposed, and judging rightly why he was detained at Madrid, took

his measures so secretly and so well, that he set out the same night,

with his most necessary equipage, gained ground and arrived at the foot

of the Pyrenees without being overtaken and arrested; two occurrences

which he expected at every moment, knowing that Alberoni was a man who

would stick at nothing.

Saint-Aignan, already so far advanced, did not deem it advisable to

expose himself any longer, bothered as he would be among the mountains by

his carriages.  He and the Duchess, his wife, followed by a waiting-woman

and three valets, with a very trusty guide, mounted upon mules and rode

straight for Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port without stopping a moment more on

the road than was necessary.  He sent on his equipages to Pampeluna at a

gentle pace, and placed in his carriage an intelligent valet de chambre

and a waiting-woman, with orders to pass themselves off as the ambassador

and ambassadress of France, and in case they were arrested to cry out a

good deal.  The arrest did not fail to happen.  The people despatched by

Alberoni soon came up with the carriage.  The pretended ambassador and

ambassadress played their parts very well, and they who had arrested them

did not doubt for a moment they had made a fine capture, sending news of

it to Madrid, and keeping the prisoners in Pampeluna, to which the party

returned.

This device saved M. and Madame de Saint-Aignan, and gave them means to

reach Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port; as soon as they arrived there they sent

for assistance and carriages to Bayonne, which they gained in safety, and

reposed after their fatigue.  The Duc de Saint-Aignan sent word of all

this to M. le Duc d'Orleans by a courier, and, at this arrival in

Bayonne, despatched a message to the Governor of Pampeluna, begging him

to send on his equipages.  Alberoni's people were very much ashamed of

having been duped, but Alberoni when he heard of it flew into a furious

rage, and cruelly punished the mistake.  The equipages were sent on to

Bayonne.

CHAPTER XCVI

To return now to what took place at Paris.

On Sunday, the 25th of December, Christmas Day, M. le Duc d'Orleans sent

for me to come and see him at the Palais Royal, about four o'clock in the

afternoon.  I went accordingly, and after despatching some business with

him, other people being present, I followed him into his little winter

cabinet at the end of the little gallery, M. le Duc being present.

After a moment of silence, the Regent told me to see if no one was

outside in the gallery, and if the door at the end was closed.  I went

out, found the door shut, and no one near.

This being ascertained, M. le Duc d'Orleans said that we should not be

surprised to learn that M. and Madame du Maine had been mixed up all

along with this affair of the Spanish Ambassador Cellamare; that he had

written proofs of this, and that the project was exactly that which I

have already described.  He added, that he had strictly forbidden the

Keeper of the Seals, the Abbe Dubois, and Le Blanc, who alone knew of

this project, to give the slightest sign of their knowledge, recommended

to me the same secrecy, and the same precaution; and finished by saying

that he wished, above all things, to consult M. le Duc and me upon the

course he ought to adopt.

M. le Duc at once went to the point and said M. and Madame du Maine must

at once be arrested and put where they could cause no apprehension.  I

supported this opinion, and showed the perilous annoyances that might

arise if this step were not instantly taken; as much for the purpose of

striking terror into the conspirators, as for disconcerting their

schemes.  I added that there was not a moment to lose, and that it was

better to incur uncertain danger than to wait for that which was certain.

Our advice was accepted by M. le Duc d'Orleans, after some little debate.

But now the question arose, where are the prisoners to be put?  The

Bastille and Vincennes both seemed to me too near to Paris.  Several

places were named without one appearing to suit.  At lasts M. le Duc

d'Orleans mentioned Dourlens.  I stopped him short at the name, and

recommended it warmly.  I knew the governor, Charost, and his son to be

men of probity, faithful, virtuous, and much attached to the state.  Upon

this it was agreed to send M. du Maine to Dourlens.

Then we had to fix upon a place for his wife, and this was more

difficult; there were her sex, her fiery temper, her courage; her

daring,--all to be considered; whereas, her husband, we knew, so

dangerous as a hidden enemy, was contemptible without his mask, and would

fall into the lowest state of dejection in prison, trembling all over

with fear of the scaffold, and attempting nothing; his wife, on the

contrary, being capable of attempting anything:

Various places discussed, M. le Duc d'Orleans smiled, and proposed the

chateau of Dijon!  Now, the joke of this suggestion was, that Dijon

belonged to M. le Duc, and that he was nephew of Madame du Maine, whom

the Regent proposed to lock up there!  M. le Duc smiled also, and said it

was a little too bad to make him the gaoler of his aunt!  But all things

considered, it was found that a better choice than Dijon could not be

made, so M. le Duc gave way.  I fancy he had held out more for form's

sake than for any other reason.  These points settled, we separated, to

meet another time, in order to make the final arrangements for the

arrest.

We met accordingly, the Monday and Tuesday following, and deliberated

with the same secrecy as before.  On Wednesday we assembled again to put

the final touch to our work.  Our conference was long, and the result of

it was, that M. and Madame du Maine were to be arrested on the morrow;

all the necessary arrangements were made, and, as we thought, with the

utmost secrecy.  Nevertheless, the orders given to the regiment of the

guards, and to the musketeers somehow or other transpired during the

evening, and gave people reason to believe that something considerable

was in contemplation.  On leaving the conference, I arranged with Le

Blanc that, when the blow was struck, he should inform me by simply

sending a servant to inquire after my health.

The morrow, about ten o'clock in the morning, having noiselessly and

without show placed the body-guard around Sceaux, La Billardiere,

lieutenant of the regiment, entered there, and arrested the Duc du Maine

as he was leaving his chapel after hearing mass, and very respectfully

begged him not to re-enter the house, but to mount immediately into a

coach which he had brought.  M. du Maine, who had expected this arrest,

and who had had time to put his papers in order, mad not the slightest

resistance.  He replied that he had anticipated this compliment for some

days, and at once moved into the coach.  La Billardiere placed himself by

his side, and in front was an exempt of the bodyguards, and Favancourt,

brigadier in the first company of musketeers, destined to guard him in

his prison.

As these two latter persons did not appear before the Duc du Maine until

the moment he entered the coach, be appeared surprised and moved to see

Favancourt.

He would not have been at the exempt, but the sight of the other

depressed him.  He asked La Billardiere what this meant.  Billardiere

could not dissimulate that Favancourt had orders to accompany him, and to

remain with him in the place to which they were going.  Favancourt

himself took this moment to pay his compliments as best he might to the

Duc du Maine, to which the Duke replied but little, and that in a civil

and apprehensive manner.  These proceedings conducted them to the end of

the avenue of Sceaux, where the bodyguards appeared.  The sight of them

made the Duc du Maine change colour.

Silence was but little interrupted in the coach.  Now and then M. du

Maine would say that he was very innocent of the accusation which had

been formed against him; that he was much attached to the King, and not

less so to M. le Duc d'Orleans, who could not but recognise it; and that

it was very unfortunate his Royal Highness should put faith in his

enemies (he never named anybody).  All this was said in a broken manner,

and amid many sighs; from time to time signs of the cross; low mumblings

as of prayers; and plunges at each church or each cross they passed.  He

took his meals in the coach, ate very little, was alone at night, but

with good precautions taken.  He did not know until the morrow that he

was going to Dourlens.  He showed no emotion thereupon.  All these

details I learnt from Favancourt, whom I knew very well, and who was in

the Musketeers when I served in that corps.

At the moment of the arrest of M. du Maine, Ancenis, captain of the body-

guard, arrested the Duchesse du Maine in her house in the Rue St.

Honore.  A lieutenant, and an exempt of the foot body-guards, with other

troops, took possession of the house at the same time, and guarded the

doors.  The compliment of the Duc d'Ancenis was sharply received.  Madame

du Maine wished to take away some caskets.  Ancenis objected.  She

demanded, at the least, her jewels; altercations very strong on one side,

very modest on the other: but she was obliged to yield.  She raged at the

violence done to a person of her rank, without saying anything too

disobliging to M. d'Ancenis, and without naming anybody.  She delayed her

departure as long as she could, despite the instances of d'Ancenis, who

at last presented his hand to her, and politely, but firmly, said she

must go.  She found at her door two six-horse coaches, the sight of which

much shocked her.  She was obliged, however, to mount.  Ancenis placed

himself by her side, the lieutenant and the exempt of the guard in front,

two chambermaids whom she had chosen were in the other coach, with her

apparel, which had been examined.  The ramparts were followed, the

principal streets avoided; there was no stir, and at this she could not

restrain her surprise and vexation, or check a tear, declaiming by fits

and starts against the violence done her.  She complained of the rough

coach, the indignity it cast upon her, and from time to time asked where

she was being led to.  She was simply told that she would sleep at

Essonne, nothing more.  Her three guardians maintained profound silence.

At night all possible precautions were taken.  When she set out the next

day, the Duc d'Ancenis took leave of her, and left her to the lieutenant

and to the exempt of the body-guards, with troops to conduct her.  She

asked where they were leading her to: he simply replied,

"To Fontainebleau."  The disquietude of Madame du Maine augmented as she

left Paris farther behind, but when she found herself in Burgundy, and

knew at last she was to go to Dijon, she stormed at a fine rate.

It was worse when she was forced to enter the castle, and found herself

the prisoner of M. le Duc.  Fury suffocated her.  She raged against her

nephew, and the horrible place chosen for her.  Nevertheless, after her

first transports, she returned to herself, and began to comprehend that

she was in no place and no condition to play the fury.  Her extreme rage

she kept to herself, affected nothing but indifference for all, and

disdainful security.  The King's lieutenant of the castle, absolutely

devoted to M. le Duc, kept her fast, and closely watched her and her

chambermaids.  The Prince de Dombes and the Comte d'Eu (her sons) were at

the same time exiled to Eu, where a gentleman in ordinary always was near

them; Mademoiselle du Maine was sent to Maubuisson.

Several other people were successively arrested and placed either in the

Bastille or Vincennes.  The commotion caused by the arrest and

imprisonment of M. and Madame du Maine was great; many faces, already

elongated by the Bed of justice, were still further pulled out by these

events.  The Chief-President, D'Effiat, the Marechal de Villeroy, the

Marechal de Villars, the Marechal d'Huxelles, and other devoted friends

of M. du Maine, were completely terrified; they did not dare to say a

word; they kept out of the way; did not leave their houses except from

necessity; fear was painted upon their faces.  All their pride was put

aside; they became polite, caressing, would have eaten out of your hand;

and by this sudden change and their visible embarrassment betrayed

themselves.

As for the Comte de Toulouse he remained as upright and loyal as ever.

The very day of the double arrest he came to M. le Duc d'Orleans and said

that he regarded the King, the Regent, and the State as one and the same

thing; that he should never be wanting in his duty or in his fidelity

towards them; that he was very sorry at what had happened to his brother,

but that he was in no way answerable for him.  The Regent stated this to

me the same day, and appeared, with reason, to be charmed with such

straightforward honesty.

This arrest of M. and Madame du Maine had another effect.  For some time

past, a large quantity of illicit salt had been sold throughout the

country.  The people by whom this trade was conducted, 'faux sauniers',

as they were called, travelled over the provinces in bands well armed and

well organized.  So powerful had they become that troops were necessary

in order to capture them.  There were more than five thousand faux

saumers, who openly carried on their traffic in Champagne and Picardy.

They had become political instruments in the hands of others, being

secretly encouraged and commanded by those who wished to sow trouble in

the land.  It could not be hidden that these 'faux sauniers' were

redoubtable by their valour and their arrangements; that the people were

favourable to them, buying as they did from them salt at a low price, and

irritated as they were against the gabelle and other imposts; that these

'faux sauniers' spread over all the realm, and often marching in large

bands, which beat all opposed to them, were dangerous people, who incited

the population by their examples to opposition against the government.

I had proposed on one occasion the abolition of the salt tax to the

Regent, as a remedy for these evils; but my suggestion shared the fate of

many others.  It was favourably listened to, and nothing more.  And

meanwhile the 'faux sauniers' had gone on increasing.  I had no

difficulty in discovering by whom they were encouraged, and the event

showed I was right.  Directly after the arrest of M. and Madame du Maine,

the 'faux sauniers' laid down their arms, asked, and obtained pardon.

This prompt submission showed dearly enough by whom they had been

employed, and for what reason.  I had uselessly told M. le Duc d'Orleans

so long before, who admitted that I was right, but did nothing.  It was

his usual plan.

Let me finish at once with all I shall have to say respecting M. and

Madame du Maine.

They remained in their prisons during the whole of the year 1719,

supplied with all the comforts and attentions befitting their state, and

much less rigorously watched than at first, thanks to the easy

disposition of M. le Duc d'Orleans, whose firmness yielded even more

rapidly than beauty to the effects of time.  The consequence of his

indulgence towards the two conspirators was, that at about the

commencement of the following year, 1720, they began to play a very

ridiculous comedy, of which not a soul was the dupe; not even the public,

nor the principal actors, nor the Regent.

The Duc and Duchesse du Maine, thanks to the perfidy of the Abbe Dubois,

had had time to hide away all their papers, and to arrange together the

different parts they should play.  Madame du Maine, supported by her sex

and birth, muffled herself up in her dignity, when replying to the

questions addressed to her, of which just as many, and no more, were read

to the replying counsel as pleased the Abbe Dubois; and strongly accusing

Cellamare and others; protected as much as possible her friends, her

husband above all, by charging herself with all; by declaring that what

she had done M. du Maine had no knowledge of; and that its object went no

farther than to obtain from the Regent such reforms in his administration

as were wanted.

The Duc du Maine, shorn of his rank and of his title of prince of the

blood, trembled for his life.  His crimes against the state, against the

blood royal, against the person of the Regent, so long, so artfully, and

so cruelly offended, troubled him all the more because he felt they

deserved severe punishment.  He soon, therefore, conceived the idea of

screening himself beneath his wife's petticoats.  His replies, and all

his observations were to the same tune; perfect ignorance of everything.

Therefore when the Duchess had made her confessions, and they were

communicated to him, he cried out against his wife,--her madness, her

felony,--his misfortune in having a wife capable of conspiring, and

daring enough to implicate him in everything without having spoken to

him; making him thus a criminal without being so the least in the world;

and keeping him so ignorant of her doings, that it was out of his power

to stop them, to chide her, or inform M. le Duc d'Orleans if things had

been pushed so far that he ought to have done so!

From that time the Duc du Maine would no longer hear talk of a woman who,

without his knowledge, had cast him and his children into this abyss; and

when at their release from prison, they were permitted to write and send

messages to each other, he would receive nothing from her, or give any

signs of life.  Madame du Maine, on her side, pretended to be afflicted

at this treatment; admitting, nevertheless, that she had acted wrongfully

towards her husband in implicating him without his knowledge in her

schemes.  They were at this point when they were allowed to come near

Paris.  M. du Maine went to live at Clagny, a chateau near Versailles,

built for Madame de Montespan.  Madame du Maine went to Sceaux.  They

came separately to see M. le Duc d'Orleans at Paris, without sleeping

there; both played their parts, and as the Abbe Dubois judged the time

had come to take credit to himself in their eyes for finishing their

disgrace, he easily persuaded M. le Duc d'Orleans to, appear convinced of

the innocence of M. du Maine.

During their stay in the two country-houses above named, where they saw

but little company, Madame du Maine made many attempts at reconciliation

with her husband, which he repelled.  This farce lasted from the month of

January (when they arrived at Sceaux and at Clagny) to the end of July.

Then they thought the game had lasted long enough to be put an end to.

They had found themselves quit of all danger so cheaply, and counted so

much upon the Abbe Dubois, that they were already thinking of returning

to their former considerations; and to work at this usefully, they must

be in a position to see each other, and commence by establishing

themselves in Paris, where they would of necessity live together.

The sham rupture had been carried to this extent, that the two sons of

the Duc du Maine returned from Eu to Clagny a few days after him, did not

for a long time go and see Madame du Maine, and subsequently saw her but

rarely, and without sleeping under her roof.

At last a resolution being taken to put an end to the comedy, this is how

it was terminated by another.

Madame la Princesse made an appointment with the Duc du Maine, at

Vaugirard on the last of July, and in the house of Landais, treasurer of

the artillery.  She arrived there a little after him with the Duchesse du

Maine, whom she left in her carriage.  She said to M. du Maine she had

brought a lady with her who much desired to see him.  The thing was not

difficult to understand; the piece had been well studied.  The Duchesse

du Maine was sent for.  The apparent reconcilement took place.  The three

were a long time together.  To play out the comedy, M. and Madame du

Maine still kept apart, but saw and approached each other by degrees,

until at last the former returned to Sceaux, and lived with his wife as

before.

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARK:

He was often firm in promises

End of this Project Gutenberg Etext Memoirs of Louis XIV. and The Regency,

v12, by the Duc de Saint-Simon

          MEMOIRS OF LOUIS XIV AND HIS COURT AND OF THE REGENCY

                        BY THE DUKE OF SAINT-SIMON