MEMOIRS OF LOUIS XIV AND HIS COURT AND OF THE REGENCY

 BY THE DUKE OF SAINT-SIMON

VOLUME 8. 

CHAPTER LV

Although, as we have just seen, matters were beginning to brighten alittle in Spain, they remained as dull and overcast as ever in France. The impossibility of obtaining peace, and the exhaustion of the realm, threw, the King into the most cruel anguish, and Desmarets into thesaddest embarrassment. The paper of all kinds with which trade wasinundated, and which had all more or less lost credit, made a chaos forwhich no remedy could be perceived. State-bills, bank-bills, receiver-general's-bills, title-bills, utensil-bills, were the ruin of privatepeople, who were forced by the King to take them in payment, and who losthalf, two-thirds, and sometimes more, by the transaction. Thisdepreciation enriched the money people, at the expense of the public; andthe circulation of money ceased, because there was no longer any money;because the King no longer paid anybody, but drew his revenues still; andbecause all the specie out of his control was locked up in the coffers ofthe possessors. 

The capitation tax was doubled and trebled, at the will of the Intendantsof the Provinces; merchandise and all kinds of provision were taxed tothe amount of four times their value; new taxes of all kinds and upon allsorts of things were exacted; all this crushed nobles and roturiers, lords and clergy, and yet did not bring enough to the King, who drew theblood of all his subjects, squeezed out their very marrow, withoutdistinction, and who enriched an army of tax-gatherers and officials ofall kinds, in whose hands the best part of what was collected remained. 

Desmarets, in whom the King had been forced to put all his confidence infinance matters, conceived the idea of establishing, in addition to somany taxes, that Royal Tithe upon all the property of each community andof each private person of the realm, that the Marechal de Vauban, on theone hand, and Boisguilbert on the other, had formerly proposed; but, as Ihave already described, as a simple and stile tax which would suffice forall, which would all enter the coffers of the King, and by means of whichevery other impost would be abolished. 

We have seen what success this proposition met with; how the fancierstrembled at it; how the ministers blushed at it, with what anathemas itwas rejected, and to what extent these two excellent and skilful citizenswere disgraced. All this must be recollected here, since Desmarets, whohad not lost sight of this system (not as relief and remedy--unpardonablecrimes in the financial doctrine), now had recourse to it. 

He imparted his project to three friends, Councillors of State, whoexamined it well, and worked hard to see how to overcome the obstacleswhich arose in the way of its execution. In the first place, it wasnecessary, in order to collect this tax, to draw from each person a clearstatement of his wealth, of his debts, and so on. It was necessary todemand sure proofs on these points so as not to be deceived. Here wasall the difficulty. Nothing was thought of the desolation this extraimpost must cause to a prodigious number of men, or of their despair uponfinding themselves obliged to disclose their family secrets; to hate alamp thrown, as it were, upon their most delicate parts; all thesethings, I say, went for nothing. Less than a month sufficed these humanecommissioners to render an account of this gentle project to the Cyclopswho had charged them with it. Desmarets thereupon proposed it to theKing, who, accustomed as he was to the most ruinous imposts, could notavoid being terrified at this. For a long while he had heard nothingtalked of but the most extreme misery; this increase saddened him in amanner so evident, that his valets perceived it several days running, andwere so disturbed at it, that Marechal (who related all this curiousanecdote to me) made bold to speak to the King upon this sadness, fearingfor his health. The King avowed to him that he felt infinite trouble, and threw himself vaguely upon the state of affairs. Eight or ten days. After (during which he continued to feel the same melancholy), the Kingregained his usual calmness, and called Marechal to explain the cause ofhis trouble. 

The King related to Marechal that the extremity of his affairs had forcedhim to put on furious imposts; that setting aside compassion, scrupleshad much tormented him for taking thus the wealth of his subjects; thatat last he had unbosomed himself to the Pere Tellier, who had asked for afew days to think upon the matter, and that he had returned after havinghad a consultation with some of the most skilful doctors of the Sorbonne, who had decided that all the wealth of his subjects was his, and thatwhen he took it he only took what belonged to him! The King added, thatthis decision had taken away all his scruples, and had restored to himthe calm and tranquillity he had lost. Marechal was so astonished, sobewildered to hear, this recital, that he could not offer one word. Happily for him, the King quitted him almost immediately, and Marechalremained some time in the same place, scarcely knowing where he was. 

After the King had been thus satisfied by his confessor, no time was lostin establishing the tax. On Tuesday, the 30th of September, Desmaretsentered the Finance Council with the necessary edict in his bag. 

For some days everybody had known of this bombshell in the air, and hadtrembled with that remnant of hope which is founded only upon desire; allthe Court as well as all Paris waited in a dejected sadness to see whatwould happen. People whispered to each other, and even when the projectwas rendered public, no one dared to talk of it aloud. 

On the day above-named, the King brought forward this measure in theCouncil, by saying, that the impossibility of obtaining peace, and theextreme difficulty of sustaining the war, had caused Desmarets to lookabout in order to discover some means, which should appear good, ofraising money; that he had pitched upon this tax; that he (the King), although sorry to adopt such a resource, approved it, and had no doubtthe Council would do so likewise, when it was explained to them. Desmarets, in a pathetic discourse, then dwelt upon the reasons which hadinduced him to propose this tax, and afterwards read the edict throughfrom beginning to end without interruption. 

No one spoke, moreover, when it was over, until the King askedD'Aguesseau his opinion. D'Aguesseau replied, that it would be necessaryfor him to take home the edict and read it through very carefully beforeexpressing an opinion. The King said that D'Aguesseau was right--itwould take a long time to examine the edict--but after all, examinationwas unnecessary, and would only be loss of time. All remained silentagain, except the Duc de Beauvilliers, who, seduced by the nephew ofColbert, whom he thought an oracle in finance, said a few words in favourof the project. 

Thus was settled this bloody business, and immediately after signed, sealed, and registered, among stifled sobs, and published amidst the mostgentle but most piteous complaints. The product of this tax was nothinglike so much as had been imagined in this bureau of Cannibals; and theKing did not pay a single farthing more to any one than he had previouslydone. Thus all the fine relief expected by this tax ended in smoke. 

The Marechal de Vauban had died of grief at the ill-success of his taskand his zeal, as I have related in its place. Poor Boisguilbert, in theexile his zeal had brought him, was terribly afflicted, to find he hadinnocently given advice which he intended for the relief of the State, but which had been made use of in this frightful manner. Every man, without exception, saw himself a prey to the tax-gatherers: reduced tocalculate and discuss with them his own patrimony, to receive theirsignature and their protection under the most terrible pains; to show inpublic all the secrets of his family; to bring into the broad opendaylight domestic turpitudes enveloped until then in the folds ofprecautions the wisest and the most multiplied. Many had to convince thetax agents, but vainly, that although proprietors, they did not enjoy thetenth part of them property. All Languedoc offered to give up its entirewealth, if allowed to enjoy, free from every impost, the tenth part ofit. The proposition not only was not listened to, but was reputed aninsult and severely blamed. 

Monseigneur le Duc de Bourgogne spoke openly against this tax; andagainst the finance people, who lived upon the very marrow of the people;spoke with a just and holy anger that recalled the memory of Saint-Louis, of Louis XII. , Father of the People, and of Louis the Just. Monseigneur, too, moved by this indignation, so unusual, of his son, sided with him, and showed anger at so many exactions as injurious as barbarous, and atso many insignificant men so monstrously enriched with the nation'sblood. Both father and son infinitely surprised those who heard them, and made themselves looked upon, in some sort as resources from whichsomething might hereafter be hoped for. But the edict was issued, andthough there might be some hope in the future, there was none in thepresent. And no one knew who was to be the real successor of Louis XIV. , and how under the next government we were to be still more overwhelmedthan under this one. 

One result of this tax was, that it enabled the King to augment all hisinfantry with five men per company. 

A tax was also levied upon the usurers, who had much gained bytrafficking in the paper of the King, that is to say, had taken advantageof the need of those to whom the King gave this paper in payment. Theseusurers are called 'agioteurs'. Their mode was, ordinarily, to give, forexample, according as the holder of paper was more or less pressed, threeor four hundred francs (the greater part often in provisions), for a billof a thousand francs! This game was called 'agio'. It was said thatthirty millions were obtained from this tax. Many people gained much byit; I know not if the King was the better treated. 

Soon after this the coin was re-coined, by which much profit was made forthe King, and much wrong done to private people and to trade. In alltimes it has, been regarded as a very great misfortune to meddle withcorn and money. Desmarets has accustomed us to tricks with the money;M. Le Duc and Cardinal Fleury to interfere with corn and to fictitiousfamine. 

At the commencement of December, the King declared that he wished thereshould be, contrary to custom, plays and "apartments" at Versailles evenwhen Monseigneur should be at Meudon. He thought apparently he must keephis Court full of amusements, to hide, if it was possible, abroad and athome, the disorder and the extremity of affairs. For the same reason, the carnival was opened early this season, and all through the winterthere were many balls of all kinds at the Court, where the wives of theministers gave very magnificent displays, like fetes, to Madame laDuchesse de Bourgogne and to all the Court. 

But Paris did not remain less wretched or the provinces less desolated. 

And thus I have arrived at the end of 1710. 

At the commencement of the following year, 1711, that is to say, a fewdays after the middle of March, a cruel misfortune happened to theMarechal de Boufflers. His eldest son was fourteen years of age, handsome, well made, of much promise, and who succeeded marvellously atthe Court, when his father presented him there to the King to thank hisMajesty for the reversion of the government of Flow and of Lille. Hereturned afterwards to the College of the Jesuits, where he was beingeducated. I know not what youthful folly he was guilty of with the twosons of D'Argenson; but the Jesuits, wishing to show that they made nodistinction of persons, whipped the little lad, because, to say thetruth, they had nothing to fear from the Marechal de Boufflers; but theytook good care to left the others off, although equally guilty, becausethey had to reckon with D'Argenson, lieutenant of the police, of muchcredit in book matters, Jansenism, and all sorts of things and affairs inwhich they were interested. 

Little Boufflers, who was full of courage, and who had done no more thanthe two Argensons, and with them, was seized with such despair, that hefell ill that same day. He was carried to the Marechal's house, but itwas impossible to save him. The heart was seized, the blood diseased, the purples appeared; in four days all was over. The state of the fatherand mother may be imagined! The King, who was much touched by it, didnot let them ask or wait for him. He sent one of his gentlemen totestify to them the share he had in their loss, and announced that hewould give to their remaining son 'what he had already given to theother. As for the Jesuits, the universal cry against them wasprodigious; but that was all. This would be the place, now that I amspeaking of the Jesuits, to speak of another affair in which they wereconcerned. But I pass over, for the present, the dissensions that brokeout at about this time, and that ultimately led to the famous Papal BullUnigenitus, so fatal to the Church and to the State, so shameful farRome, and so injurious to religion; and I proceed to speak of the greatevent of this year which led to others so memorable and so unexpected. 

CHAPTER LVI

But in Order to understand the part I played in the event I have alludedto and the interest I took in it, it is necessary for me to relate somepersonal matters that occurred in the previous year. Du Mont was one ofthe confidants of Monseigneur; but also had never forgotten what hisfather owed to mine. Some days after the commencement of the secondvoyage to Marly, subsequently to the marriage of the Duchesse de Berry, as I was coming back from the King's mass, the said Du Mont, in the crushat the door of the little salon of the chapel, took an opportunity whenhe was not perceived, to pull me by my coat, and when I turned round puta finger to his lips, and pointed towards the gardens which are at thebottom of the river, that is to say, of that superb cascade which theCardinal Fleury has destroyed, and which faced the rear of the chateau. At the same time du Mont whispered in my car: "To the arbours!" That partof the garden was surrounded with arbours palisaded so as to conceal whatwas inside. It was the least frequented place at Marly, leading tonothing; and in the afternoon even, and the evening, few people withinthem. 

Uneasy to know what Du Mont wished to communicate with so much mystery, I gently went towards the arbours where, without being seen, I lookedthrough one of the openings until I saw him appear. He slipped in by thecorner of the chapel, and I went towards him. As he joined me he beggedme to return towards the river, so as to be still more out of the way;and then we set ourselves against the thickest palisades, as far aspossible from all openings, so as to be still more concealed. All thissurprised and frightened me: I was still more so when I learned what wasthe matter. 

Du Mont then told me, on condition that I promised not to show that Iknew it, and not to make use of my knowledge in any way without hisconsent, that two days after the marriage of the Duc de Berry, havingentered towards the end of the morning the cabinet of Monseigneur, hefound him alone, looking very serious. He followed Monseigneur, throughthe gardens alone, until he entered by the window the apartments of thePrincesse de Conti, who was also alone. As he entered Monseigneur saidwith an air not natural to him, and very inflamed--as if by way ofinterrogation--that she "sat very quietly there. " This frightened herso, that she asked if there was any news from Flanders, and what hadhappened. Monseigneur answered, in a tone of great annoyance, that therewas no news except that the Duc de Saint-Simon had said, that now thatthe marriage of the Duc de Berry was brought about, it would be proper todrive away Madame la Duchesse and the Princesse de Conti, after which itwould be easy to govern "the great imbecile, " meaning himself. This waswhy he thought she ought not to be so much at her ease. Then, suddenly, as if lashing his sides to get into a greater rage, he spoke in a waysuch a speech would have deserved, added menaces, said that he would havethe Duc de Bourgogne to fear me, to put me aside, and separate himselfentirely from me. This sort of soliloquy lasted a long time, and I wasnot told what the Princesse de Conti said to it; but from the silence ofDu Mont, her annoyance at the marriage, I had brought about, and otherreasons, it seems to me unlikely that she tried to soften Monseigneur. 

Du Mont begged me not, for a long time at least, to show that I knew whathad taken place, and to behave with the utmost prudence. Then he fledaway by the path he had come by, fearing to be seen. I remained walkingup and down in the arbour all the time, reflecting on the wickedness ofmy enemies, and the gross credulity of Monseigneur. Then I ran away, andescaped to Madame de Saint-Simon, who, as astonished and frightened as I, said not a word of the communication I had received. 

I never knew who had served me this ill-turn with Monseigneur, but Ialways suspected Mademoiselle de Lillebonne. After a long time, havingobtained with difficulty the consent of the timid Du Mont, I made Madamede Saint-Simon speak to the Duchesse de Bourgogne, who undertook toarrange the affair as well as it could be arranged. The Duchesse spokeindeed to Monseigneur, and showed him how ridiculously he had beendeceived, when he was persuaded that I could ever have entertained theideas attributed to me. Monseigneur admitted that he had been carriedaway by anger; and that there was no likelihood that I should havethought of anything so wicked and incredible. 

About this time the household of the Duc and Duchesse de Berry wasconstituted. Racilly obtained the splendid appointment of first surgeon, and was worthy of it; but the Duchesse de Berry wept bitterly, becauseshe did not consider him of high family enough. She was not so delicateabout La Haye, whose appointment she rapidly secured. The fellow lookedin the glass more complaisantly than ever. He was well made, but stiff, and with a face not at all handsome, and looking as if it had beenskinned. He was happy in more ways than one, and was far more attachedto his new mistress than to his master. The King was very angry when helearned that the Duc de Berry had supplied himself with such anassistant. 

Meantime, I continued on very uneasy terms with Monseigneur, since I hadlearned his strange credulity with respect to me. I began to feel myposition very irksome, not to say painful, on this account. Meudon Iwould not go to--for me it was a place infested with demons--yet bystopping away I ran great risks of losing the favour and consideration Ienjoyed at Court. Monseigneur was a man so easily imposed upon, as I hadalready experienced, and his intimate friends were so unscrupulous thatthere was no saying what might be invented on the one side and swallowedon the other, to my discredit. Those friends, too, were, I knew, enragedagainst me for divers weighty reasons, and would stop at nothing, I wassatisfied, to procure my downfall. For want of better support Isustained myself with courage. I said to myself, "We never experienceall the evil or all the good that we have apparently the most reason toexpect. " I hoped, therefore, against hope, terribly troubled it must beconfessed on the score of Meudon. At Easter, this year, I went away toLa Ferme, far from the Court and the world, to solace myself as I could;but this thorn in my side was cruelly sharp! At the moment the mostunlooked-for it pleased God to deliver me from it. 

At La Ferme I had but few guests: M. De Saint-Louis, an old brigadier ofcavalry, and a Normandy gentleman, who had been in my regiment, and whowas much attached to me. On Saturday, the 11th of the month, and the daybefore Quasimodo, I had been walking with them all the morning, and I hadentered all-alone into my cabinet a little before dinner, when a couriersent by Madame de Saint-Simon, gave me a letter from her, in which I wasinformed that Monseigneur was ill!

I learnt afterwards that this Prince, while on his way to Meudon for theEaster fetes, met at Chaville a priest, who was carrying Our Lord to asick person. Monseigneur, and Madame de Bourgogne, who was with him, knelt down to adore the Host, and then Monseigneur inquired what was themalady of the patient. "The small-pox, " he was told. That disease wasvery prevalent just then. Monseigneur had had it, but very lightly, andwhen young. He feared it very much, and was struck with the answer henow received. In the evening he said to Boudin, his chief doctor, "Ishould not be surprised if I were to have the small-pox. " The, day, however, passed over as usual. 

On the morrow, Thursday, the 9th, Monseigneur rose, and meant to go outwolf-hunting; but as he was dressing, such a fit of weakness seized him, that he fell into his chair. Boudin made him get into bed again; but allthe day his pulse was in an alarming state. The King, only half informedby Fagon of what had taken place, believed there was nothing the matter, and went out walking at Marly after dinner, receiving news from time totime. Monseigneur le Duc de Bourgogne and Madame de Bourgogne dined atMeudon, and they would not quit Monseigneur for one moment. The Princessadded to the strict duties of a daughter-in-law all that her gracefulnesscould suggest, and gave everything to Monseigneur with her own hand. Herheart could not have been troubled by what her reason foresaw; but, nevertheless, her care and attention were extreme, without any airs ofaffectation or acting. The Duc de Bourgogne, simple and holy as he was, and full of the idea of his duty, exaggerated his attention; and althoughthere was a strong suspicion of the small-pox, neither quittedMonseigneur, except for the King's supper. 

The next day, Friday, the 10th, in reply to his express demands, the Kingwas informed of the extremely dangerous state of Monseigneur. He hadsaid on the previous evening that he would go on the following morning toMeudon, and remain there during all the illness of Monseigneur whateverits nature might be. He was now as good as his word. Immediately aftermass he set out for Meudon. Before doing so, he forbade his children, and all who had not had the small-pox, to go there, which was suggestedby a motive of kindness. With Madame de Maintenon and a small suite, hehad just taken up his abode in Meudon, when Madame de Saint-Simon sent methe letter of which I have just made mention. 

I will continue to speak of myself with the same truthfulness I speak ofothers, and with as much exactness as possible. According to the termson which I was with Monseigneur and his intimates, may be imagined theimpression made upon me by this news. I felt that one way or other, wellor ill, the malady of Monseigneur would soon terminate. I was quite atmy ease at La Ferme. I resolved therefore to wait there until I receivedfresh particulars. I despatched a courier to Madame de Saint-Simon, requesting her to send me another the next day, and I passed the rest ofthis day, in an ebb and flow of feelings; the man and the Christianstruggling against the man and the courtier, and in the midst of a crowdof vague fancies catching glimpses of the future, painted in the mostagreeable colours. 

The courier I expected so impatiently arrived the next day, Sunday, afterdinner. The small-pox had declared itself, I learnt, and was going on aswell as could be wished. I believed Monseigneur saved, and wished toremain at my own house; nevertheless I took advice, as I have done all mylife, and with great regret set out the next morning. At La queue, aboutsix leagues from Versailles, I met a financier of the name of LaFontaine, whom I knew well. He was coming from Paris and Versailles, andcame up to me as I changed horses. Monseigneur, he said, was going onadmirably; and he added details which convinced me he was out of alldanger. I arrived at Versailles, full of this opinion, which wasconfirmed by Madame de Saint-Simon and everybody I met, so that nobodyany longer feared, except on account of the treacherous nature of thisdisease in a very fat man of fifty. 

The King held his Council, and worked in the evening with his ministersas usual. He saw Monseigneur morning and evening, oftentimes in theafternoon, and always remained long by the bedside. On the Monday Iarrived he had dined early, and had driven to Marly, where the Duchessede Bourgogne joined him. He saw in passing on the outskirts of thegarden of Versailles his grandchildren, who had come out to meet him, buthe would not let them come near, and said, "good day" from a distance. The Duchesse de Bourgogne had had the small-pox, but no trace was left. 

The King only liked his own houses, and could not bear to be anywhereelse. This was why his visits to Meudon were few and short, and onlymade from complaisance. Madame de Maintenon was still more out of herelement there. Although her chamber was everywhere a sanctuary, whereonly ladies entitled to the most extreme familiarity entered, she alwayswanted another retreat near at hand entirely inaccessible except to theDuchesse de Bourgogne alone, and that only for a few instants at a time. Thus she had Saint-Cyr for Versailles and for Marly; and at Marly also aparticular retiring place; at Fontainebleau she had her town house. Seeing therefore that Monseigneur was getting on well, and that a longsojourn it Meudon would be necessary, the upholsterers of the King wereordered to furnish a house in the park which once belonged to theChancellor le Tellier, but which Monseigneur had bought. 

When I arrived at Versailles, I wrote to M. De Beauvilliers at Meudonpraying him to apprise the King that I had returned on account of theillness of Monseigneur, and that I would have gone to see him, but that, never having had the small-pox, I was included in the prohibition. M. DeBeauvilliers did as I asked, and sent word back to me that my return hadbeen very well timed, and that the King still forbade me as well asMadame de Saint-Simon to go to Meudon. This fresh prohibition did notdistress me in the least. I was informed of all that was passing there;and that satisfied me. 

There were yet contrasts at Meudon worth noticing. Mademoiselle Choinnever appeared while the King was with Monseigneur, but kept close in herloft. When the coast was clear she came out, and took up her position atthe sick man's bedside. All sorts of compliments passed between her andMadame de Maintenon, yet the two ladies never met. The King asked Madamede Maintenon if she had seen Mademoiselle Choin, and upon learning thatshe had not, was but ill-pleased. Therefore Madame de Maintenon sentexcuses and apologies to Mademoiselle Choin, and hoped she said to seeher soon, --strange compliments from one chamber to another under the sameroof. They never saw each other afterwards. 

It should be observed, that Pere Tellier was also incognito at Meudon, and dwelt in a retired room from which he issued to see the King, butnever approached the apartments of Monseigneur. 

Versailles presented another scene. Monseigneur le Duc and Madame laDuchesse de Bourgogne held their Court openly there; and this Courtresembled the first gleamings of the dawn. All the Court assembledthere; all Paris also; and as discretion and precaution were never Frenchvirtues, all Meudon came as well. People were believed on their wordwhen they declared that they had not entered the apartments ofMonseigneur that day, and consequently could not bring the infection. When the Prince and Princess rose, when they weft to bed, when they dinedand supped with the ladies, --all public conversations--all meals--allassembled--were opportunities of paying court to them. The apartmentscould not contain the crowd. The characteristic features of the roomwere many. Couriers arrived every quarter of an hour, and remindedpeople of the illness of Monseigneur--he was going on as well as could beexpected; confidence and hope were easily felt; but there was an extremedesire to please at the new Court. The young Prince and the Princessexhibited majesty and gravity, mixed with gaiety; obligingly receivedall, continually spoke to every one; the crowd wore an air ofcomplaisance; reciprocal satisfaction showed in every face; the Duc andDuchesse de Berry ware treated almost as nobody. Thus five days fledaway in increasing thought of future events--in preparation to be readyfor whatever might happen. 

On Tuesday, the 14th of April, I went to see the chancellor, and askedfor information upon the state of Monseigneur. He assured me it wasgood, and repeated to me the words Fagon had spoken to him, "that thingswere going an according to their wishes, and beyond their hopes. " TheChancellor appeared to me very confident, and I had faith in him, so muchthe more, because he was on extremely good footing with Monseigneur. ThePrince, indeed, had so much recovered, that the fish-women came in a bodythe self-same day to congratulate him, as they did after his attack ofindigestion. They threw the themselves at the foot of his bed, whichthey kissed several times, and in their joy said they would go back toParis and have a Te Deum sung. But Monseigneur, who was not insensibleto these marks of popular affection, told them it was not yet time, thanked them, and gave them a dinner and some money. 

As I was going home, I saw the Duchesse d'Orleans walking on a terrace. She called to me; but I pretended not to notice her, because La Montaubanwas with her, and hastened home, my mind filled with this news, andwithdrew to my cabinet. Almost immediately afterwards Madame la Duchessed'Orleans joined me there. We were bursting to speak to each otheralone, upon a point on which our thoughts were alike. She had leftMeudon not an hour before, and she had the same tale to tell as theChancellor. Everybody was at ease there she said; and then she extolledthe care and capacities of the doctors, exaggerating their success; and, to speak frankly and to our shame, she and I lamented together to seeMonseigneur, in spite of his age and his fat, escape from so dangerous anillness. She reflected seriously but wittily, that after an illness ofthis sort, apoplexy was not to be looked for; that an attack ofindigestion was equally unlikely to arise, considering the careMonseigneur had taken not to over-gorge himself since his recent danger;and we concluded more than dolefully, that henceforth we must make up ourminds that the Prince would live and reign for a long time. In a word, we let ourselves loose in this rare conversation, although not without anoccasional scruple of conscience which disturbed it. Madame de Saint-Simon all devoutly tried what she could to put a drag upon our tongues, but the drag broke, so to speak, and we continued our free discourse, humanly speaking very reasonable on our parts, but which we felt, nevertheless, was not according to religion. Thus two hours passed, seemingly very short. Madame d'Orleans went away, and I repaired withMadame de Saint-Simon to receive a numerous company. 

While thus all was tranquillity at Versailles, and even at Meudon, everything had changed its aspect at the chateau. The King had seenMonseigneur several times during the day; but in his after-dinner visithe was so much struck with the extraordinary swelling of the face and ofthe head, that he shortened his stay, and on leaving the chateau, shedtears. He was reassured as much as possible, and after the council hetook a walk in the garden. 

Nevertheless Monseigneur had already mistaken Madame la Princesse deConti for some one else; and Boudin, the doctor, was alarmed. Monseigneur himself had been so from the first, and he admitted, that fora long time before being attacked, he had been very unwell, and so muchon Good Friday, that he had been unable to read his prayer-book atchapel. 

Towards four o'clock he grew worse, so much so that Boudin proposed toFagon to call in other doctors, more familiar with the disease than theywere. But Fagon flew into a rage at this, and would call in nobody. Hedeclared that it would be better to act for themselves, and to keepMonseigneur's state secret, although it was hourly growing worse, andtowards seven o'clock was perceived by several valets and courtiers. Butnobody dared to open his mouth before Fagon, and the King was actuallyallowed to go to supper and to finish it without interruption, believingon the faith of Fagon that Monseigneur was going on well. 

While the King supped thus tranquilly, all those who were in the sick-chamber began to lose their wits. Fagon and the others poured downphysic on physic, without leaving time for any to work. The Cure, whowas accustomed to go and learn the news every evening, found, against allcustom, the doors thrown wide open, and the valets in confusion. Heentered the chamber, and perceiving what was the matter, ran to thebedside, took the hand of Monseigneur, spoke to him of God, and seeinghim full of consciousness, but scarcely able to speak, drew from him asort of confession, of which nobody had hitherto thought, and suggestedsome acts of contrition. The poor Prince repeated distinctly severalwords suggested to him, and confusedly answered others, struck hisbreast, squeezed the Cure's hand, appeared penetrated with the bestsentiments, and received with a contrite and willing air the absolutionof the Cure. 

As the King rose from the supper-table, he well-nigh fell backward whenFagon, coming forward, cried in great trouble that all was lost. It maybe imagined what terror seized all the company at this abrupt passagefrom perfect security to hopeless despair. The King, scarcely master ofhimself, at once began to go towards the apartment of Monseigneur, andrepelled very stiffly the indiscreet eagerness of some courtiers whowished to prevent him, saying that he would see his son again, and bequite certain that nothing could be done. As he was about to enter thechamber, Madame la Princesse de Conti presented herself before him, andprevented him from going in. She pushed him back with her hands, andsaid that henceforth he had only to think of himself. Then the King, nearly fainting from a shock so complete and so sudden, fell upon a sofathat stood near. He asked unceasingly for news of all who passed, butscarce anybody dared to reply to him. He had sent for here Tellier, whowent into Monseigneur's room; but it was no longer time. It is true theJesuit, perhaps to console the King, said that he gave him a well-foundedabsolution. Madame de Maintenon hastened after the King, and sittingdown beside him on the same sofa, tried to cry. She endeavoured to leadaway the King into the carriage already waiting for him in thecourtyard, but he would not go, and sat thus outside the door untilMonseigneur had expired. 

The agony, without consciousness, of Monseigneur lasted more than an hourafter the King had come into the cabinet. Madame la Duchesse and Madamela Princesse de Conti divided their cares between the dying man and theKing, to whom they constantly came back; whilst the faculty confounded, the valets bewildered, the courtiers hurrying and murmuring, hustledagainst each other, and moved unceasingly to and fro, backwards andforwards, in the same narrow space. At last the fatal moment arrived. Fagon came out, and allowed so much to be understood. 

The King, much afflicted, and very grieved that Monseigneur's confessionhad been so tardily made, abused Fagon a little; and went away led byMadame de Maintenon and the two Princesses. He was somewhat struck byfinding the vehicle of Monseigneur outside; and made a sign that he wouldhave another coach, for that one made him suffer, and left the chateau. He was not, however, so much occupied with his grief that he could notcall Pontchartrain to arrange the hour of the council on the next day. I will not comment on this coolness, and shall merely say it surprisedextremely all present; and that if Pontchartrain had not said the councilcould be put off, no interruption to business would have taken place. The King got into his coach with difficulty, supported on both sides. Madame de Maintenon seated herself beside him. A crowd of officers ofMonseigneur lined both sides of the court on their knees, as he passedout, crying to him with strange howlings to have compassion on them, forthey had lost all, and must die of hunger. 

CHAPTER LVII

While Meudon was filled with horror, all was tranquil at Versailles, without the least suspicion. We had supped. The company some time afterhad retired, and I was talking with Madame de Saint-Simon, who had nearlyfinished undressing herself to go to bed, when a servant of Madame laDuchesse de Berry, who had formerly belonged to us, entered, allterrified. He said that there must be some bad news from Meudon, sinceMonseigneur le Duc de Bourgogne had just whispered in the ear of M. LeDuc de Berry, whose eyes had at once become red, that he left the table, and that all the company shortly after him rose with precipitation. Sosudden a change rendered my surprise extreme. I ran in hot haste toMadame la Duchesse de Berry's. Nobody was there. Everybody had gone toMadame la Duchesse de Bourgogne. I followed on with all speed. 

I found all Versailles assembled on arriving, all the ladies hastilydressed--the majority having been on the point of going to bed--all thedoors open, and all in trouble. I learnt that Monseigneur had receivedthe extreme unction, that he was without consciousness and beyond hope, and that the King had sent word to Madame de Bourgogne that he was goingto Marly, and that she was to meet him as he passed through the avenuebetween the two stables. 

The spectacle before me attracted all the attention I could bestow. Thetwo Princes and the two Princesses were in the little cabinet behind thebed. 

The bed toilette was as usual in the chamber of the Duchesse deBourgogne, which was filled with all the Court in confusion. She cameand went from the cabinet to the chamber, waiting for the moment when shewas to meet the King; and her demeanour, always distinguished by the samegraces, was one of trouble and compassion, which the trouble andcompassion of others induced them to take for grief. Now and then, inpassing, she said a few rare words. All present were in truth expressivepersonages. Whoever had eyes, without any knowledge of the Court, couldsee the interests of all interested painted on their faces, and theindifference of the indifferent; these tranquil, the former penetratedwith grief, or gravely attentive to themselves to, hide theiremancipation and their joy. 

For my part, my first care was to inform myself thoroughly of the stateof affairs, fearing lest there might be too much alarm for too trifling acause; then, recovering myself, I reflected upon the misery common to allmen, and that I myself should find myself some day at the gates of death. Joy, nevertheless, found its way through the momentary reflections ofreligion and of humanity, by which I tried to master myself. My ownprivate deliverance seemed so great and so unhoped for, that it appearedto me that the State must gain everything by such a loss. And with thesethoughts I felt, in spite of myself, a lingering fear lest the sick manshould recover, and was extremely ashamed of it. 

Wrapped up thus in myself, I did not fail, nevertheless, to castclandestine looks upon each face, to see what was passing there. I sawMadame la Duchesse d'Orleans arrive, but her countenance, majestic andconstrained, said nothing. She went into the little cabinet, whence shepresently issued with the Duc d'Orleans, whose activity and turbulent airmarked his emotion at the spectacle more than any other sentiment. Theywent away, and I notice this expressly, on account of what happenedafterwards in my presence. 

Soon afterwards I caught a distant glimpse of the Duc de Bourgogne, whoseemed much moved and troubled; but the glance with which I probed himrapidly, revealed nothing tender, and told merely of a mind profoundlyoccupied with the bearings of what had taken place. 

Valets and chamber-women were already indiscreetly crying out; and theirgrief showed well that they were about to lose something!

Towards half-past twelve we had news of the King, and immediately afterMadame de Bourgogne came out of the little cabinet with the Duke, whoseemed more touched than when I first saw him. The Princess took herscarf and her coifs from the toilette, standing with a deliberate air, her eyes scarcely wet--a fact betrayed by inquisitive glances castrapidly to the right and left--and, followed only by her ladies, went toher coach by the great staircase. 

I took the opportunity to go to the Duchesse d'Orleans, where I foundmany people. Their presence made me very impatient; the Duchess, who wasequally impatient, took a light and went in. I whispered in the ear ofthe Duchesse de Villeroy, who thought as I thought of this event. Shenudged me, and said in a very low voice that I must contain myself. I was smothered with silence, amidst the complaints and the narrativesurprises of these ladies; but at last M. Le Duc d'Orleans appeared atthe door of his cabinet, and beckoned me to come to him. 

I followed him into the cabinet, where we were alone. What was mysurprise, remembering the terms on which he was with Monseigneur, to seethe tears streaming from his eyes. 

"Sir!" exclaimed I, rising: He understood me at once; and answered in abroken voice, really crying: "You are right to be surprised--I amsurprised myself; but such a spectacle touches. He was a man with whom Ipassed much of my life, and who treated me well when he was uninfluenced. I feel very well that my grief won't last long; in a few days I shalldiscover motives of joy; at present, blood, relationship, humanity, --allwork; and my entrails are moved. " I praised his sentiments, but repeatedmy surprise. He rose, thrust his head into a corner, and with his nosethere, wept bitterly and sobbed, which if I had not seen I could not havebelieved. 

After a little silence, however, I exhorted him to calm himself. Irepresented to him that, everybody knowing on what terms he had been withMonseigneur, he would be laughed at, as playing a part, if his eyesshowed that he had been weeping. He did what he could to remove themarks of his tears, and we then went back into the other room. 

The interview of the Duchesse de Bourgogne with the King had not beenlong. She met him in the avenue between the two stables, got down, andwent to the door of the carriage. Madame de Maintenon cried out, "Whereare you going? We bear the plague about with us. " I do not know whatthe King said or did. The Princess returned to her carriage, and cameback to Versailles, bringing in reality the first news of the actualdeath of Monseigneur. 

Acting upon the advice of M. De Beauvilliers, all the company had goneinto the salon. The two Princes, Monseigneur de Bourgogne and M. DeBerry, were there, seated on one sofa, their Princesses at their sides;all the rest of the company were scattered about in confusion, seated orstanding, some of the ladies being on the floor, near the sofa. Therecould be no doubt of what had happened. It was plainly written on everyface in the chamber and throughout the apartment. Monseigneur was nomore: it was known: it was spoken of: constraint with respect to him nolonger existed. Amidst the surprise, the confusion, and the movementsthat prevailed, the sentiments of all were painted to the life in looksand gestures. 

In the outside rooms were heard the constrained groans and sighs of thevalets--grieving for the master they had lost as well as for the masterthat had succeeded. Farther on began the crowd of courtiers of allkinds. The greater number--that is to say the fools--pumped up sighs aswell as they could, and with wandering but dry eyes, sung the praises ofMonseigneur--insisting especially on his goodness. They pitied the Kingfor the loss of so good a son. The keener began already to be uneasyabout the health of the King; and admired themselves for preserving somuch judgment amidst so much trouble, which could be perceived by thefrequency of their repetitions. Others, really afflicted--thediscomfited cabal--wept bitterly, and kept themselves under with aneffort as easy to notice as sobs. The most strong-minded or the wisest, with eyes fixed on the ground, in corners, meditated on the consequencesof such an event--and especially on their own interests. Few wordspassed in conversation--here and there an exclamation wrung from griefwas answered by some neighbouring grief--a word every quarter of an hour--sombre and haggard eyes--movements quite involuntary of the hands--immobility of all other parts of the body. Those who already looked uponthe event as favourable in vain exaggerated their gravity so as to makeit resemble chagrin and severity; the veil over their faces wastransparent and hid not a single feature. They remained as motionless asthose who grieved most, fearing opinion, curiosity, their ownsatisfaction, their every movement; but their eyes made up for theirimmobility. Indeed they could not refrain from repeatedly changing theirattitude like people ill at ease, sitting or standing, from avoiding eachother too carefully, even from allowing their eyes to meet--nor repress amanifest air of liberty--nor conceal their increased liveliness--nor putout a sort of brilliancy which distinguished them in spite of themselves. 

The two Princes, and the two Princesses who sat by their sides, were moreexposed to view than any other. The Duc de Bourgogne wept withtenderness, sincerity, and gentleness, the tears of nature, of religion, and patience. M. Le Duc de Berry also sincerely shed abundance of tears, but bloody tears, so to speak, so great appeared their bitterness; and heuttered not only sobs, but cries, nay, even yells. He was silentsometimes, but from suffocation, and then would burst out again with sucha noise, such a trumpet sound of despair, that the majority present burstout also at these dolorous repetitions, either impelled by affliction ordecorum. He became so bad, in fact, that his people were forced toundress him then and there, put him to bed, and call in the doctor, Madame la Duchesse de Berry was beside herself, and we shall soon seewhy. The most bitter despair was painted with horror on her face. Therewas seen written, as it were, a sort of furious grief, based on interest, not affection; now and then came dry lulls deep and sullen, then atorrent of tears and involuntary gestures, yet restrained, which showedextreme bitterness of mind, fruit of the profound meditation that hadpreceded. Often aroused by the cries of her husband, prompt to assisthim, to support him, to embrace him, to give her smelling-bottle, hercare for him was evident; but soon came another profound reverie--then agush of tears assisted to suppress her cries. As for Madame la Duchessede Bourgogne she consoled her husband with less trouble than she had toappear herself in want of consolation. Without attempting to play apart, it was evident that she did her best to acquit herself of apressing duty of decorum. But she found extreme difficulty in keeping upappearances. When the Prince her brother-in-law howled, she blew hernose. She had brought some tears along with her and kept them up withcare; and these, combined with the art of the handkerchief, enabled herto redden her eyes, and make them swell, and smudge her face; but herglances often wandered on the sly to the countenances of all present. 

Madame arrived, in full dress she knew not why, and howling she knew notwhy, inundated everybody with her tears in embracing them, making thechateau echo with renewed cries, and furnished the odd spectacle of aPrincess putting on her robes of ceremony in the dead of night to comeand cry among a crowd of women with but little on except their night-dresses, --almost as masqueraders. 

In the gallery several ladies, Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans, Madame deCastries, and Madame de Saint-Simon among the rest, finding no one closeby, drew near each other by the side of a tent-bedstead, and began toopen their hearts to each other, which they did with the more freedom, inasmuch as they had but one sentiment in common upon what had occurred. In this gallery, and in the salon, there were always during the nightseveral beds, in which, for security's sake, certain Swiss guards andservants slept. These beds had been put in their usual place thisevening before the bad news came from Meudon. In the midst of theconversation of the ladies, Madame de Castries touched the bed, feltsomething move, and was much terrified. A moment after they saw a sturdyarm, nearly naked, raise on a sudden the curtains, and thus show them agreat brawny Swiss under the sheets, half awake, and wholly amazed. Thefellow was a long time in making out his position, fixing his eyes uponevery face one after the other; but at last, not judging it advisable toget up in the midst of such a grand company, he reburied himself in hisbed, and closed the curtains. Apparently the good man had gone to bedbefore anything had transpired, and had slept so soundly ever since thathe had not been aroused until then. The saddest sights have often themost ridiculous contrasts. This caused some of the ladies to laugh, andMadame d'Orleans to fear lest the conversation should have beenoverheard. But after reflection, the sleep and the stupidity of thesleeper reassured her. 

I had some doubts yet as to the event that had taken place; for I did notlike to abandon myself to belief, until the word was pronounced by someone in whom I could have faith. By chance I met D'O, and I asked him. He answered me clearly that Monseigneur was no more. Thus answered, Itried not to be glad. I know not if I succeeded well, but at least it iscertain, that neither joy nor sorrow blunted my curiosity, and that whiletaking due care to preserve all decorum, I did not consider myself in anyway forced to play the doleful. I no longer feared any fresh attack fromthe citadel of Meudon, nor any cruel charges from its implacablegarrison. I felt, therefore, under no constraint, and followed everyface with my glances, and tried to scrutinise them unobserved. 

It must be admitted, that for him who is well acquainted with theprivacies of a Court, the first sight of rare events of this nature, sointeresting in so many different respects, is extremely satisfactory. Every countenance recalls the cares, the intrigues, the labours employedin the advancement of fortunes--in the overthrow of rivals: therelations, the coldness, the hatreds, the evil offices done, the basenessof all; hope, despair, rage, satisfaction, express themselves in thefeatures. See how all eyes wander to and fro examining what passesaround--how some are astonished to find others more mean, or less meanthan was expected! Thus this spectacle produced a pleasure, which, hollow as it may be, is one of the greatest a Court can bestow. 

The turmoil in this vast apartment lasted about an hour, at the end ofwhich M. De Beauvilliers thought it was high time to deliver the Princesof their company. The rooms were cleared. M. Le Duc de Berry went awayto his rooms, partly supported by his wife. All through the night heasked, amid tears and cries, for news from Meudon; he would notunderstand the cause of the King's departure to Marly. When at lengththe mournful curtain was drawn from before his eyes, the state he fellinto cannot be described. The night of Monseigneur and Madame deBourgogne was more tranquil. Some one having said to the Princess, thathaving--no real cause to be affected, it would be terrible to play apart, she replied, quite naturally, that without feigning, pity touchedher and decorum controlled her; and indeed she kept herself within thesebounds with truth and decency. Their chamber, in which they invitedseveral ladies to pass the night in armchairs, became immediately apalace of Morpheus. All quietly fell asleep. The curtains were leftopen, so that the Prince and Princess could be seen sleeping profoundly. They woke up once or twice for a moment. In the morning the Duke andDuchess rose early, their tears quite dried up. They shed no more forthis cause, except on special and rare occasions. The ladies who hadwatched and slept in their chamber, told their friends how tranquil thenight had been. But nobody was surprised, and as there was no longer aMonseigneur, nobody was scandalised. Madame de Saint-Simon and Iremained up two hours before going to bed, and then went there withoutfeeling any want of rest. In fact, I slept so little that at seven inthe morning I was up; but it must be admitted that such restlessness issweet, and such re-awakenings are savoury. 

Horror reigned at Meudon. As soon as the King left, all the courtiersleft also, crowding into the first carriages that came. In an instantMeudon was empty. Mademoiselle Choin remained alone in her garret, andunaware of what had taken place. She learned it only by the cry raised. Nobody thought of telling her. At last some friends went up to her, hurried her into a hired coach, and took her to Paris. The dispersionwas general. One or two valets, at the most, remained near the body. La Villiere, to his praise be it said, was the only courtier who, nothaving abandoned Monseigneur during life, did not abandon him after hisdeath. He had some difficulty to find somebody to go in search ofCapuchins to pray over the corpse. The decomposition became so rapid andso great, that the opening of the windows was not enough; the Capuchins, La Vrilliere, and the valets, were compelled to pass the night outside. 

At Marly everybody had felt so confident that the King's return there wasnot dreamt of. Nothing was ready, no keys of the rooms, no fires, scarcely an end of candle. The King was more than an hour thus withMadame de Maintenon and other ladies in one of the ante-chambers. TheKing retired into a corner, seated between Madame de Maintenon and twoother ladies, and wept at long intervals. At last the chamber of Madamede Maintenon was ready. The King entered, remained there an hour, andthen 'went to bed at nearly four o'clock in the morning. 

Monseigneur was rather tall than short; very fat, but without beingbloated; with a very lofty and noble aspect without any harshness; and hewould have had a very agreeable face if M. Le Prince de Conti had notunfortunately broken his nose in playing while they were both young. Hewas of a very beautiful fair complexion; he had a face everywhere coveredwith a healthy red, but without expression; the most beautiful legs inthe world; his feet singularly small and delicate. He wavered always inwalking, and felt his way with his feet; he was always afraid of falling, and if the path was not perfectly even and straight, he called forassistance. He was a good horseman, and looked well when mounted; but hewas not a bold rider. When hunting--they had persuaded him that he likedthis amusement--a servant rode before him; if he lost sight of thisservant he gave himself up for lost, slicked his pace to a gentle trot, and oftentimes waited under a tree for the hunting party, and returned toit slowly. He was very fond of the table, but always without indecency. Ever since that great attack of indigestion, which was taken at first forapoplexy, he made but one real meal a day, and was content, --although agreat eater, like the rest of the royal family. Nearly all his portraitswell resemble him. 

As for his character he had none; he was without enlightenment orknowledge of any kind, radically incapable of acquiring any; very idle, without imagination or productiveness; without taste, without choice, without discernment; neither seeing the weariness he caused others, northat he was as a ball moving at hap-hazard by the impulsion of others;obstinate and little to excess in everything; amazingly credulous andaccessible to prejudice, keeping himself, always, in the most pernicioushands, yet incapable of seeing his position or of changing it; absorbedin his fat and his ignorance; so that without any desire to do ill hewould have made a pernicious King. 

His avariciousness, except in certain things, passed all belief. He keptan account of his personal expenditure, and knew to a penny what hissmallest and his largest expenses amounted to. He spent large sums inbuilding, in furniture, in jewels, and in hunting, which he made himselfbelieve he was fond of. 

It is inconceivable the little he gave to La Choin, whom he so muchloved. It never exceeded four hundred Louis a quarter in gold, orsixteen hundred Louis a year, whatever the Louis might be worth. He gavethem to her with his own hand, without adding or subtracting a pistole, and, at the most, made her but one present a year, and that he looked attwice before giving. It was said that they were married, and certaincircumstances seemed to justify this rumour. As for instance, during theillness of Monseigneur, the King, as I have said, asked Madame deMaintenon if she had seen Mademoiselle Choin, and upon receiving negativereply, was displeased. Instead of driving her away from the chateau heinquired particularly after her! This, to say the least, looked asthough Mademoiselle Choin was Monseigneur's Maintenon--but the matterremained incomprehensible to the last. Mademoiselle Choin threw no lightupon it, although she spoke on many other things concerning Monseigneur. In the modest home at Paris, to which she had retired for the rest of herdays. The King gave her a pension of twelve thousand livres. 

Monseigneur was, I have said, ignorant to the last degree, and had athorough aversion for learning; so that, according to his own admission, ever since he had been released from the hands of teachers he had neverread anything except the article in the "Gazette de France, " in whichdeaths and marriages are recorded. His timidity, especially before theKing, was equal to his ignorance, which indeed contributed not a littleto cause it. The King took advantage of it, and never treated him as ason, but as a subject. He was the monarch always, never the father. Monseigneur had not the slightest influence with the King. If he showedany preference for a person it was enough! That person was sure to bekept back by the King. The King was so anxious to show that Monseigneurcould do nothing, that Monseigneur after a time did not even try. Hecontented himself by complaining occasionally in monosyllables, and byhoping for better times. 

The body of Monseigneur so soon grew decomposed; that immediate burialwas necessary. At midnight on Wednesday he was carried, with but littleceremony, to Saint-Denis, and deposited in the royal vaults. His funeralservices were said at Saint-Denis on the 18th of the following June, andat Notre Dame on the 3rd of July. As the procession passed through Parisnothing but cries, acclamations, and eulogiums of the defunct were heard. Monseigneur had, I know not how, much endeared himself to the commonpeople of Paris, and this sentiment soon gained the provinces; so true itis, that in France it costs little to its Princes to make themselvesalmost adored!

The King soon got over his affliction for the loss of this son of fifty. Never was a man so ready with tears, so backward with grief, or sopromptly restored to his ordinary state. The morning after the death ofMonseigneur he rose late, called M. De Beauvilliers into his cabinet, shed some more tears, and then said that from that time Monseigneur leDuc de Bourgogne and Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne were to enjoy thehonours, the rank, and the name of Dauphin and of Dauphine. Henceforth Ishall call them by no other names. 

My joy at this change may be imagined. In a few days all my causes ofdisquietude had been removed, and I saw a future opening before me fullof light and promise. Monseigneur le Duc de Bourgogne become Dauphin, heir to the throne of France; what favour might I not hope for? I couldnot conceal or control my satisfaction. 

But alas! it was soon followed by sad disappointment and grievoussorrow. 

CHAPTER LVIII

The death of Monseigneur, as we have seen, made a great change in theaspect of the Court and in the relative positions of its members. Butthe two persons to whom I must chiefly direct attention are the Duchessede Bourgogne and the Duchesse de Berry. The former, on account of herhusband's fall in the opinion of his father, had long been out of favourlikewise. Although Monseigneur had begun to treat her less well for along time, and most harshly during the campaign of Lille, and above allafter the expulsion of the Duc de Vendome from Marly and Meudon; yetafter the marriage of the Duc de Berry his coldness had still furtherincreased. The adroit Princess, it is true, had rowed against the currentwith a steadiness and grace capable of disarming even a well-foundedresentment; but the persons who surrounded him looked upon the meeting ofthem as dangerous for their projects. The Duc and Duchesse de Bourgognewere every day still further removed in comparative disgrace. 

Things even went so far that apropos of an engagement broken off, theDuchesse resolved to exert her power instead of her persuasion, andthreatened the two Lillebonnes. A sort of reconciliation was thenpatched up, but it was neither sincere nor apparently so. 

The cabal which laboured to destroy the Duc and Duchesse de Bourgogne wasequally assiduous in augmenting the influence of the Duc de Berry, whosewife had at once been admitted without having asked into the sanctuary ofthe Parvulo. The object was to disunite the two brothers and excitejealousy between then. In this they did not succeed even in theslightest degree. But they found a formidable ally in the Duchesse deBerry, who proved as full of wickedness and ambition as any among them. The Duc d'Orleans often called his Duchess Madame Lucifer, at which sheused to smile with complacency. He was right, for she would have been aprodigy of pride had she not, had a daughter who far surpassed her. Thisis not yet the time to paint their portraits; but I must give a word ortwo of explanation on the Duchesse de Berry. 

That princess was a marvel of wit, of pride, of ingratitude and folly--nay, of debauchery and obstinacy. 

Scarcely had she been married a week when she began to exhibit herself inall these lights, --not too manifestly it is true, for one of thequalities of which she was most vain was her falsity and power ofconcealment, but sufficiently to make an impression on those around her. People soon perceived how annoyed she was to be the daughter of anillegitimate mother, and to have lived under her restraint however mild;how she despised the weakness of her father, the Duc d'Orleans, and howconfident she was of her influence over him; and how she had hated allwho had interfered in her marriage--merely because she could not bear tobe under obligations to any one--a reason she was absurd enough publiclyto avow and boast of. Her conduct was now based on those motives. Thisis an example of how in this world people work with their heads in asack, and how human prudence and wisdom are sometimes confounded bysuccesses which have been reasonably desired and which turn out to bedetestable! We had brought about this marriage to avoid a marriage withMademoiselle de Bourbon and to cement the union of the two brothers. Wenow discovered that there was little danger of Mademoiselle de Bourbon, and then instead of her we had a Fury who had no thought but how to ruinthose who had established her, to injure her benefactors, to make herhusband and her brother quarrel; and to put herself in the power of herenemies because they were the enemies of her natural friends. It neveroccurred to her that the cabal would not be likely to abandon to her thefruit of so much labour and so many crimes. 

It may easily be imagined that she was neither gentle nor docile whenMadame la Duchesse began to give her advice. Certain that her fatherwould support her, she played the stranger and the daughter of Francewith her mother. Estrangement, however, soon came on. She behaveddifferently in form, but in effect the same with the Duchesse deBourgogne, who wished to guide her as a daughter, but who soon gave upthe attempt. The Duchesse de Berry's object could only be gained bybringing about disunion between the two brothers, and for this purposeshe employed as a spring the passion of her husband for herself. 

The first night at Versailles after the death of Monseigneur wassleepless. The Dauphin and Dauphine heard mass early next morning. I went to see them. Few persons were present on account of the hour. The Princess wished to be at Marly at the King's waking. Their eyes werewonderfully dry, but carefully managed; and it was easy to see they weremore occupied with their new position than with the death of Monseigneur. A smile which they exchanged as they spoke, in whispers convinced me ofthis. One of their first cares was to endeavour to increase their goodrelations with the Duc and Duchesse de Berry. They were to see thembefore they were up. The Duc de Berry showed himself very sensible tothis act, and the Duchess was eloquent, clever, and full of tears. Buther heart was wrung by these advances of pure generosity. The separationshe had planned soon followed: and the two princesses felt relieved at nolonger being obliged to dine together. 

Thus never was change greater or more marked than that brought about bythe death of Monseigneur. That prince had become the centre of all hopeand of all fear, a formidable cabal had seized upon him, yet withoutawakening the jealousy of the King, before whom all trembled, but whoseanxieties did not extend beyond his own lifetime, during which, and veryreasonably, he feared nothing. 

Before I go any further, let me note a circumstance characteristic of theKing. Madame la Dauphine went every day to Marly to see him. On the dayafter the death of Monseigneur she received, not without surprise, easilyunderstood, a hint from Madame de Maintenon. It was to the effect thatshe should dress herself with some little care, inasmuch as thenegligence of her attire displeased the King! The Princess did not thinkthat dress ought to occupy her then; and even if she had thought so, shewould have believed, and with good reason, that she was committing agrave fault against decorum, a fault which would have been less readilypardoned, since in every way she had gained too much by what had justoccurred not to be very guarded in her behaviour. On the next day shetook more pains with her toilette; but what she did not being foundsufficient, the day following she carried with her some things anddressed herself secretly in Madame de Maintenon's rooms; and resumedthere her ordinary apparel before returning to Versailles. Thus sheavoided offence both to the King and to society. The latter certainlywould with difficulty have been persuaded that in this ill-timedadornment of her person, her own tastes went for nothing. The Comtessede Mailly, who invented the scheme, and Madame de Nogaret, who both likedMonseigneur, related this to me and were piqued by it. From this factand from the circumstance that all the ordinary pleasures and occupationswere resumed immediately after the death of Monseigneur, the King passinghis days without any constraint, --it may be assumed that if the royalgrief was bitter its evidences were of a kind to promise that it wouldnot be of long duration. 

M. Le Dauphin, for, as I have said, it is by that title I shall now nameMonseigneur le Duc de Bourgogne--M. Le Dauphin, I say, soon gained allhearts. In the first days of solitude following upon the death ofMonseigneur, the King intimated to M. De Beauvilliers that he should notcare to see the new Dauphin go very often to Meudon. This was enough. M. Le Dauphin at once declared that he would never set his foot in thatpalace, and that he would never quit the King. He was as good as hisword, and not one single visit did he ever afterwards pay to Meudon. TheKing wished to give him fifty thousand livres a month, Monseigneur havinghad that sum. M. Le Dauphin would not accept them. He had only sixthousand livres per month. He was satisfied with double that amount andwould not receive more. This disinterestedness much pleased the public. M. Le Dauphin wished for nothing special on his account, and persisted inremaining in nearly everything as he was during the life of Monseigneur. These auguries of a prudent and measured reign, suggested the brightestof hopes. 

Aided by his adroit spouse, who already had full possession of the King'sheart and of that of Madame de Maintenon, M. Le Dauphin redoubled hisattentions in order to possess them also. These attentions, addressed toMadame de Maintenon, produced their fruit. She was transported withpleasure at finding a Dauphin upon whom she could rely, instead of onewhom she did not like, gave herself up to him accordingly, and by thatmeans secured to him the King's favour. The first fortnight made evidentto everybody at Marly the extraordinary change that had come over theKing with respect to the Dauphin. His Majesty, generally severe beyondmeasure with his legitimate children, showed the most marked graciousnessfor this prince. The effects of this, and of the change that had takenplace in his state, were soon most clearly visible in the Dauphin. Instead of being timid and retiring, diffident in speech, and more fondof his study than of the salon, he became on a sudden easy and frank, showing himself in public on all occasions, conversing right and left ina gay, agreeable, and dignified manner; presiding, in fact, over theSalon of Marly, and over the groups gathered round him, like the divinityof a temple, who receives with goodness the homage to which he isaccustomed, and recompenses the mortals who offer it with gentle regard. 

In a short time hunting became a less usual topic of conversation. History, and even science, were touched upon lightly, pleasantly, anddiscreetly, in a manner that charmed while it instructed. The Dauphinspoke with an eloquent freedom that opened all eyes, ears and hearts. People sometimes, in gathering near him, were less anxious to make theircourt than to listen to his natural eloquence, and to draw from itdelicious instruction. It is astonishing with what rapidity he gaineduniversal esteem and admiration. The public joy could not keep silent. People asked each other if this was really the same man they had known asthe Duc de Bourgogne, whether he was a vision or a reality? One of M. LeDauphin's friends, to whom this question was addressed, gave a keenreply. He answered, that the cause of all this surprise was, thatpreviously the people did not, and would not, know this prince, who, nevertheless, to those who had known him, was the same now as he had everbeen; and that this justice would be rendered to him when time had shownhow much it was deserved. 

From the Court to Paris, and from Paris to the provinces, the reputationof the Dauphin flew on rapid wings. However founded might be thisprodigious success, we need not believe it was entirely due to themarvellous qualities of the young prince. It was in a great measure areaction against the hostile feeling towards him which had been excitedby the cabal, whose efforts I have previously spoken of. Now that peoplesaw how unjust was this feeling, their astonishment added to theiradmiration. Everybody was filled with a sentiment of joy at seeing thefirst dawn of a new state of things, which promised so much order andhappiness after such a long confusion and so much obscurity. 

Gracious as the King showed himself to M. Le Dauphin, and accustomed asthe people grew to his graciousness, all the Court was strangelysurprised at a fresh mark of favour that was bestowed one morning by hisMajesty on this virtuous prince. The King, after having been closetedalone with him for some time, ordered his ministers to work with theDauphin whenever sent for, and, whether sent for or not, to make himacquainted with all public affairs; this command being given once forall. 

It is not easy to describe the prodigious movement caused at the Court bythis order, so directly opposed to the tastes, to the disposition, to themaxims, to the usage of the King, who thus showed a confidence in theDauphin which was nothing less than tacitly transferring to him a largepart of the disposition of public affairs. This was a thunderbolt forthe ministers; who, accustomed to have almost everything their own way, to rule over everybody and browbeat everybody at will, to govern thestate abroad and at home, in fact, fixing all punishments, allrecompenses, and always sheltering themselves behind the royal authority"the King wills it so" being the phrase ever on their lips, --to theseofficers, I say, it was a thunderbolt which so bewildered them, that theycould not hide their astonishment or their confusion. The public joy atan order which reduced these ministers, or rather these kings, to thecondition of subjects, which put a curb upon their power, and providedagainst the abuses they committed, was great indeed! The ministers werecompelled to bend their necks, though stiff as iron, to the yoke. Theyall went, with a hang-dog look, to show the Dauphin a feigned joy and aforced obedience to the order they had received. 

Here, perhaps, I may as well speak of the situation in which I soonafterwards found myself with the Dauphin, the confidence as to thepresent and the future that I enjoyed with him, and the manydeliberations we had upon public affairs. The matter is curious andinteresting, and need no longer be deferred. 

The Court being changed by the death of Monseigneur, I soon began indeedto think of changing my conduct with regard to the new Dauphin. M. DeBeauvilliers spoke to me about this matter first, but he judged, and Ishared his opinion, that slandered as I had been on previous occasions, and remaining still, as it were, half in disgrace, I must approach theDauphin only by slow degrees, and not endeavour to shelter myself underhim until his authority with the King had become strong enough to affordme a safe asylum. I believed, nevertheless, that it would be well tosound him immediately; and one evening, when he was but thinlyaccompanied, I joined him in the gardens at Marly and profited by hisgracious welcome to say to him, on the sly, that many reasons, of whichhe was not ignorant, had necessarily kept me until then removed from him, but that now I hoped to be able to follow with less constraint myattachment and my inclination, and that I flattered myself this would beagreeable to him. He replied in a low tone, that there were sometimesreasons which fettered people, but in our case such no longer existed;that he knew of my regard for him, and reckoned with pleasure that weshould soon see each other more frequently than before. I am writing theexact words of his reply, on account of the singular politeness of theconcluding ones. I regarded that reply as the successful result of abait that had been taken as I wished. Little by little I became moreassiduous at his promenades, but without following them when the crowd orany dangerous people do so; and I spoke more freely. I remained contentwith seeing the Dauphin in public, and I approached him in the Salon onlywhen if I saw a good opportunity. 

Some days after, being in the Salon, I saw the Dauphin and the Dauphineenter together and converse. I approached and heard their last words;they stimulated me to ask the prince what was in debate, not in astraightforward manner, but in a sort of respectful insinuating way whichI already adopted. He explained to me that he was going to Saint-Germainto pay an ordinary visit; that on this occasion there would be somechange in the ceremonial; explained the matter, and enlarged witheagerness on the necessity of not abandoning legitimate rights. 

"How glad I am to see you think thus, " I replied, "and how well you actin advocating these forms, the neglect of which tarnishes everything. "

He responded with warmth; and I seized the moment to say, that if he, whose rank was so great and so derided, was right to pay attention tothese things, how such we dukes had reason to complain of our losses, andto try to sustain ourselves! Thereupon he entered into the question sofar as to become the advocate of our cause, and finished by saying thathe regarded our restoration as an act of justice important to the state;that he knew I was well instructed in these things, and that I shouldgive him pleasure by talking of them some day. He rejoined at that, moment the Dauphine, and they set off for Saint-Germain. 

A few days after this the Dauphin sent for me. I entered by thewardrobe, where a sure and trusty valet was in waiting; he conducted meto a cabinet in which the Dauphin was sitting alone. Our conversation atonce commenced. For a full hour we talked upon the state of affairs, theDauphin listening with much attention to all I said, and expressinghimself with infinite modesty, sense, and judgment. His view, I found, were almost entirely in harmony with mine. He was sorry, and touchinglysaid so, for the ignorance of all things in which the King was kept byhis ministers; he was anxious to see the power of those ministersrestricted; he looked with dislike upon the incredible elevation of theillegitimate children; he wished to see the order to which I belongedrestored to the position it deserved to occupy. 

It is difficult to express what I felt in quitting the Dauphin. Amagnificent and near future opened out before me. I saw a prince, pious, just, debonnaire, enlightened, and seeking to become more so; withprinciples completely in accord with my own, and capacity to carry outthose principles when the time for doing so arrived. I relisheddeliciously a confident so precious and so full upon the most momentousmatters and at a first interview. I felt all the sweetness of thisperspective, and of my deliverance from a servitude which, in spite ofmyself, I sometimes could not help showing myself impatient of. I felt, too, that I now had an opportunity of elevating myself, and ofcontributing to those grand works, for the happiness and advantage of thestate I so much wished to see accomplished. 

A few days after this I had another interview with the Dauphin. I wasintroduced secretly as before, so that no one perceived either my comingor my departure. The same subjects we had previously touched upon we nowentered into again, and more amply than on the former occasion. TheDauphin, in taking leave of me, gave me full permission to see him inprivate as often as I desired, though in public I was still to becircumspect. 

Indeed there was need of great circumspection in carrying on even privateintercourse with the Dauphin. From this time I continually saw him inhis cabinet, talking with him in all liberty upon the various persons ofthe Court, and upon the various subjects relating to the state; butalways with the same secrecy as at first. This was absolutely necessary;as I have just said, I was still in a sort of half disgrace the King didnot regard me with the eyes of favour; Madame de Maintenon was resolutelyaverse to me. If they two had suspected my strict intimacy with the heirto the throne, I should have been assuredly lost. 

To show what need there was of precaution in my private interviews withthe Dauphin, let me here recall an incident which one day occurred whenwe were closeted together, and which might have led to the greatestresults. The Prince lodged then in one of the four grand suites ofapartments, on the same level as the Salon, the suite that was broken upduring an illness of Madame la Princesse de Conti, to make way for agrand stair case, the narrow and crooked one in use annoying the Kingwhen he ascended it. The chamber of the Dauphine was there; the bed hadits foot towards the window; by the chimney was the door of the obscurewardrobe by which I entered; between the chimney and one of the twowindows was a little portable bureau; in front of the ordinary entrancedoor of the chamber and behind the bureau was the door of one of theDauphine's rooms; between the two windows was a chest of drawers whichwas used for papers only. 

There were always some moments of conversation before the Dauphin sethimself down at his bureau, and ordered me to place myself opposite him. Having become more free with him, I took the liberty to say one day inthese first moments of our discourse, that he would do well to bolt thedoor behind him, the door I mean of the Dauphine's chamber. He said thatthe Dauphine would not come, it not being her hour. I replied that I didnot fear that princess herself, but the crowd that always accompaniedher. He was obstinate, and would not bolt the door. I did not dare topress him more. He sat down before his bureau, and ordered me to sitalso. Our deliberation was long; afterwards we sorted our papers. Herelet me say this--Every time I went to see the Dauphin I garnished all mypockets with papers, and I often smiled within myself passing through theSalon, at seeing there many people who at that moment were in my pockets, and who were far indeed from suspecting the important discussion that wasgoing to take place. To return: the Dauphin gave, me his papers to putin my pockets, and kept mine. He locked up some in his cupboard, andinstead of locking up the others in his bureau, kept them out, and begantalking to me, his back to the chimney, his papers in one hand, his keysin the other. I was standing at the bureau looking for some otherpapers, when on a sudden the door in front of me opened, and the Dauphineentered!

The first appearance of all three--for, thank God! she was alone--theastonishment, the countenance of all have never left my memory. Ourfixed eyes, our statue-like immobility, and our embarrassment were allalike, and lasted longer than a slow Pater-poster. The Princess spokefirst. She said to the Prince in a very ill-assured voice, that she hadnot imagined him in such good company; smiling upon him and upon me. Ihad scarce time to smile also and to lower my eyes, before the Dauphinreplied. 

"Since you find me so, " said he, smiling in turn, "leave me so. "

For an instant she looked on him, he and she both smiling at each othermore; then she looked on me, still smiling with greater liberty than atfirst, made a pirouette, went away and closed the door, beyond thethreshold of which she had not come. 

Never have I seen woman so astonished; never man so taken aback, as thePrince after the Dauphine's departure; and never man, to say truth, wasso afraid as I was at first, though I quickly reassured myself when Ifound that our intruder was alone. As soon as she had closed the door, "Well, Monsieur, " said I to the Dauphin, "if you had drawn the bolt?"

"You were right, " he replied, "and I was wrong. But no harm is done. She was alone fortunately, and I guarantee to you her secrecy. "

"I am not troubled, " said I to him, (yet I was so mightily) "but it is amiracle she was alone. With her suite you would have escaped with ascolding perhaps but for me, I should have been utterly lost. "

He admitted again he had, been wrong, and assure me more and more thatour secret was safe. The Dauphine had caught us, not only tete-a-tete--of which no one had the least suspicion--she had caught us in the fact, so to say, our crimes in out hands. I felt that she would not expose theDauphin, but I feared an after-revelation through some over-easyconfidant. Nevertheless our secret was so well kept if confided that itnever transpired. We finished, I to pocket, the Prince to lock up, thepapers. The rest of the conversation was short, and I withdrew by thewardrobe as usual. M. De Beauvilliers, to whom I related this adventureshortly afterwards, grew pale at first, but recovered when I said theDauphine was alone. He blamed the imprudence of the Dauphin, but assuredme my secret was safe. Ever since that adventure the Dauphine oftensmiled upon me when we met, as if to remind me of it, and showed markedattention to me. 

No sooner did I feel myself pretty firmly established on this footing ofdelicious intimacy with the Dauphin than I conceived the desire to unitehim with M. Le Duc d'Orleans through the means of M. De Beauvilliers. Atthe very outset, however, an obstacle arose in my path. 

I have already said, that the friendship of M. D'Orleans for hisdaughter, Madame la Duchesse de Berry, had given employment to thetongues of Satan, set in Motion by hatred and jealousy. Evil reportseven reached M. Le Duc de Berry, who on his part, wishing to enjoy thesociety of his wife in full liberty, was importuned by the continualpresence near her, of her father. To ward off a quarrel between son-in-law and father-in-law, based upon so false and so odious a foundation, appeared to Madame de Saint-Simon and myself a pressing duty. 

I had already tried to divert M. Le Duc d'Orleans from an assiduity whichwearied M. Le Duc de Berry; but I had not succeeded. I believed it myduty then to return to the charge more hotly; and remembering my previousill-success, I prefaced properly, and then said what I had to say. M. D'Orleans was astonished; he cried out against the horror of such a vileimputation and the villainy that had carried it to M. Le Duc de Berry. He thanked me for having warned him of it, a service few besides myselfwould have rendered him. I left him to draw the proper and naturalconclusion on the conduct he should pursue. This conversation passed oneday at Versailles about four o'clock in the afternoon. 

On the morrow Madame de Saint-Simon related to me, that returning homethe previous evening, from the supper and the cabinet of the King withMadame la Duchesse de Berry, the Duchess had passed straight into thewardrobe and called her there; and then with a cold and angry air, saidshe was very much astonished that I wished to get up a quarrel betweenher and M. Le Duc d'Orleans. Madame Saint-Simon exhibited surprise, butMadame la Duchesse de Berry declared that nothing was so true; that Iwished to estrange M. D'Orleans from her, but that I should not succeed;and immediately related all that I had just said to her father. He hadhad the goodness to repeat it to her an hour afterwards! Madame deSaint-Simon, still more surprised, listened attentively to the end, andreplied that this horrible report was public, that she herself could seewhat consequences it would have, false and abominable as it might be, andfeel whether it was not important that M. Le Duc d'Orleans should beinformed of it. She added, that I had shown such proofs of my attachmentfor them and of my desire for their happiness, that I was above allsuspicion. Then she curtsied and leaving the Princess went to bed. Thisscene appeared to me enormous. 

For some time after this I ceased entirely to see Duc d'Orleans andMadame la Duchesse de Berry. They cajoled me with all sorts of excuses, apologies, and so forth, but I remained frozen. They redoubled theirexcuses and their prayers. Friendship, I dare not say compassion, seduced me, and I allowed myself to be led away. In a word, we werereconciled. I kept aloof, however, from Madame la Duchesse de Berry asmuch as possible, visiting her only for form's sake; and as long as shelived never changed in this respect. 

Being reconciled with M. D'Orleans, I again thought of my project ofuniting him to the Dauphin through M. De Beauvilliers. He had need ofsome support, for on all sides he was sadly out of favour. Hisdebauchery and his impiety, which he had quitted for a time afterseparating himself from Madame d'Argenton, his mistress, had now seizedon him again as firmly as ever. It seemed as though there were a wagerbetween him and his daughter, Madame la Duchesse de Berry, which shouldcast most contempt on religion and good manners. 

The King was nothing ignorant of the conduct of his nephew. He had beenmuch shocked with the return to debauchery and low company. The enemiesof M. D'Orleans, foremost among whom was M. Du Maine, had thereforeeverything in their favour. As I have said, without some support M. D'Orleans seemed in danger of being utterly lost. 

It was no easy matter to persuade M. De Beauvilliers to, fall in with theplan I had concocted, and lend his aid to it. But I worked him hard. Idwelt upon the taste of the Dauphin for history, science, and the arts, and showed what a ripe knowledge of those subjects M. D'Orleans had, andwhat agreeable conversation thereon they both might enjoy together. Inbrief I won over M. De Beauvilliers to my scheme. M. D'Orleans, on hisside, saw without difficulty the advantage to him of union with theDauphin. To bring it about I laid before him two conditions. One, thatwhen in the presence of the Prince he should suppress that detestableheroism of impiety he affected more than he felt, and allow no licentiousexpressions to escape him. The second was to go less often into evilcompany at Paris, and if he must continue his debauchery, to do so at theleast within closed doors, and avoid all public scandal. He promisedobedience, and was faithful to his promise. The Dauphin perceived andapproved the change; little by little the object of my desire was gained. 

As I have already said, it would be impossible for me to express all thejoy I felt at my deliverance from the dangers I was threatened withduring the lifetime of Monseigneur. My respect, esteem, and admirationfor the Dauphin grew more and more day by day, as I saw his noblequalities blossom out in richer luxuriance. My hopes, too, took abrighter colour from the rising dawn of prosperity that was breakingaround me. Alas! that I should be compelled to relate the cruel mannerin which envious fortune took from me the cup of gladness just as I wasraising it to my lips. 

CHAPTER LIX

On Monday, the 18th of January, 1712, after a visit to Versailles, theKing went to Marly. I mark expressly this journey. No sooner were wesettled there than Boudin, chief doctor of the Dauphine, warned her totake care of herself, as he had received sure information that there wasa plot to poison her and the Dauphin, to whom he made a similarcommunication. Not content with this he repeated it with a terrifiedmanner to everybody in the salon, and frightened all who listened to him. The King spoke to him about it in private. Boudin declared that thisinformation was good, and yet that he did not know whence it came; and hestuck to this contradiction. For, if he did not know where theinformation came from how could he be assured it was trustworthy?

The most singular thing is, that twenty-four hours after Boudin haduttered this warning, the Dauphin received a similar one from the King ofSpain, vague, and without mentioning whence obtained, and yet alsodeclared to be of good source. In this only the Dauphin was nameddistinctly--the Dauphine obscurely and by implication--at least, so theDauphin explained the matter, and I never heard that he said otherwise. People pretended to despise these stories of origin unknown, but theywere struck by them nevertheless, and in the midst of the amusements andoccupations of the Court, seriousness, silence, and consternation werespread. 

The King, as I have said, went to Marly on Monday, the 18th of January, 1712. The Dauphine came there early with a face very much swelled, andwent to bed at once; yet she rose at seven o'clock in the evening becausethe King wished her to preside in the salon. She played there, inmorning-dress, with her head wrapped up, visited the King m the apartmentof Madame de Maintenon just before his supper, and then again went tobed, where she supped. On the morrow, the 19th, she rose only to play inthe salon, and see the King, returning to her bed and supping there. Onthe 20th, her swelling diminished, and she was better. She was subjectto this complaint, which was caused by her teeth. She passed thefollowing days as usual. On Monday, the 1st of February, the Courtreturned to Versailles. 

On Friday, the 5th of February, the Duc de Noailles gave a very fine boxfull of excellent Spanish snuff to the Dauphine, who took some, and likedit. This was towards the end of the morning. Upon entering her cabinet(closed to everybody else), she put this box upon the table, and left itthere. Towards the evening she was seized with trembling fits of fever. She went to bed, and could not rise again even to go to the King'scabinet after the supper. On Saturday, the 6th of February, theDauphine, who had had fever all night, did not fail to rise at herordinary hour, and to pass the day as usual; but in the evening the feverreturned. She was but middling all that night, a little worse the nextday; but towards ten o'clock at night she was suddenly seized by a sharppain under the temple. It did not extend to the dimensions of a ten souspiece, but was so violent that she begged the King, who was coming to seeher, not to enter. This kind of madness of suffering lasted withoutintermission until Monday, the 8th, and was proof against tobacco chewedand smoked, a quantity of opium, and two bleedings in the arms. Fevershowed itself more then this pain was a little calmed; the Dauphine saidshe had suffered more than in child-birth. 

Such a violent illness filled the chamber with rumours concerning thesnuff-box given to the Dauphine by the Duc de Noailles. In going to bedthe day she had received it and was seized by fever, she spoke of thesnuff to her ladies, highly praising it and the box, which she told oneof them to go and look for upon the table in the cabinet, where, as Ihave said, it had been left. The box could not be found, although lookedfor high and low. This disappearance had seemed very extraordinary fromthe first moment it became known. Now, joined to the grave illness withwhich the Dauphine was so cruelly assailed, it aroused the most sombresuspicions. Nothing, however, was breathed of these suspicions, beyond avery restricted circle; for the Princess took snuff with the knowledge ofMadame de Maintenon, but without that of the King, who would have made afine scene if he had discovered it. This was what was feared, if thesingular loss of the box became divulged. 

Let me here say, that although one of my friends, the Archbishop ofRheims, believed to his dying day that the Duc de Noailles had poisonedthe Dauphine by means of this box of Spanish snuff, I never could inducemyself to believe so too. The Archbishop declared that in the manner ofthe Duc de Noailles, after quitting the chamber of the Princess, therewas something which suggested both confusion and contentment. He broughtforward other proofs of guilt, but they made no impression upon me. Iendeavoured, on the contrary, to shake his belief, but my labour was invain. I entreated him, however, at least to maintain the most profoundsilence upon this horrible thought, and he did so. 

Those who afterwards knew the history of the box--and they were in goodnumber--were as inaccessible to suspicion as I; and nobody thought ofcharging the Duc de Noailles with the offence it was said he hadcommitted. As for me, I believed in his guilt so little that ourintimacy remained the same; and although that intimacy grew even up tothe death of the King, we never spoke of this fatal snuff-box. 

During the night, from Monday to Tuesday, the 9th of February, thelethargy was great. During the day the King approached the bed manytimes: the fever was strong, the awakenings were short; the head wasconfused, and some marks upon the skin gave tokens of measles, becausethey extended quickly, and because many people at Versailles and at Pariswere known to be, at this time, attacked with that disease. The nightfrom Tuesday to Wednesday passed so much the more badly, because the hopeof measles had already vanished. The King came in the morning to seeMadame la Dauphine, to whom an emetic had been given. It operated well, but produced no relief. The Dauphin, who scarcely ever left the bedsideof his wife, was forced into the garden to take the air, of which he hadmuch need; but his disquiet led him back immediately into the chamber. The malady increased towards the evening, and at eleven o'clock there wasa considerable augmentation of fever. The night was very bad. On Thursday, the 11th of February, at nine o'clock in the morning, theKing entered the Dauphine's chamber, which Madame de Maintenon scarcelyever left, except when he was in her apartments. The Princess was so illthat it was resolved to speak to her of receiving the sacrament. Prostrated though she was she was surprised at this. She put somequestions as to her state; replies as little terrifying as possible weregiven to her, and little by little she was warned against delay. Grateful for this advice, she said she would prepare herself. 

After some time, accidents being feared, Father la Rue, her (Jesuit)confessor, whom she had always appeared to like, approached her to exhorther not to delay confession. She looked at him, replied that sheunderstood him, and then remained silent. Like a sensible man he sawwhat was the matter, and at once said that if she had any objection toconfess to him to have no hesitation in admitting it. Thereupon sheindicated that she should like to have M. Bailly, priest of the missionof the parish of Versailles. He was a man much esteemed, but notaltogether free from the suspicion of Jansenism. Bailly, as it happened, had gone to Paris. This being told her, the Dauphine asked for FatherNoel, who was instantly sent for. 

The excitement that this change of confessor made at a moment so criticalmay be imagined. All the cruelty of the tyranny that the King neverceased to exercise over every member of his family was now apparent. They could not have a confessor not of his choosing! What was hissurprise and the surprise of all the Court, to find that in these lastterrible moments of life the Dauphine wished to change her confessor, whose order even she repudiated!

Meanwhile the Dauphin had given way. He had hidden his own illness aslong as he could, so as not to leave the pillow of his Dauphine. Now thefever he had was too strong to be dissimulated; and the doctors, whowished to spare him the sight of the horrors they foresaw, forgot nothingto induce him to stay in his chamber, where, to sustain him, false newswas, from time to time, brought him of the state of his spouse. 

The confession of the Dauphine was long. Extreme unction wasadministered immediately afterwards; and the holy viaticum directly. An hour afterwards the Dauphine desired the prayers for the dying to besaid. They told her she was not yet in that state, and with words ofconsolation exhorted her to try and get to sleep. Seven doctors of theCourt and of Paris were sent for. They consulted together in thepresence of the King and Madame de Maintenon. All with one voice were infavour of bleeding at the foot; and in case it did not have the effectdesired, to give an emetic at the end of the night. The bleeding wasexecuted at seven o'clock in the evening. The return of the fever cameand was found less violent than the preceding. The night was cruel. TheKing came early next morning to see the Dauphine. The emetic she took atabout nine o'clock had little effect. The day passed in symptoms eachmore sad than the other; consciousness only at rare intervals. All atonce towards evening, the whole chamber fell into dismay. A number ofpeople were allowed to enter although the King was there. Just beforeshe expired he left, mounted into his coach at the foot of the grandstaircase, and with Madame de Maintenon and Madame de Caylus went away toMarly. They were both in the most bitter grief, and had not the courageto go to the Dauphin. Upon arriving at Marly the King supped in his ownroom; and passed a short time with M. D'Orleans and his natural children. M. Le Duc de Berry, entirely occupied with his affliction, which wasgreat and real, had remained at Versailles with Madame la Duchesse deBerry, who, transported with joy upon seeing herself delivered from apowerful rival, to whom, however, she owed all, made her face do duty forher heart. 

Monseigneur le Dauphin, ill and agitated by the most bitter grief, kepthis chamber; but on Saturday morning the 13th, being pressed to go toMarly to avoid the horror of the noise overhead where the Dauphine waslying dead, he set out for that place at seven o'clock in the morning. Shortly after arriving he heard mass in the chapel, and thence wascarried in a chair to the window of one of his rooms. Madame deMaintenon came to see him there afterwards; the anguish of the interviewwas speedily too much for her, and she went away. Early in the morning Iwent uninvited to see M. Le Dauphin. He showed me that he perceived thiswith an air of gentleness and of affection which penetrated me. But Iwas terrified with his looks, constrained, fixed and with something wildabout them, with the change in his face and with the marks there, lividrather than red, that I observed in good number and large; marks observedby the others also. The Dauphin was standing. In a few minutes he wasapprised that the King had awaked. The tears that he had restrained, nowrolled from his eyes; he turned round at the news but said nothing, remaining stock still. His three attendants proposed to him, once ortwice, that he should go to the King. He neither spoke nor stirred. Iapproached and made signs to him to go, then softly spoke to the sameeffect. Seeing that he still remained speechless and motionless, I madebold to take his arm, representing to him that sooner or later he mustsee the King, who expected him, and assuredly with the desire to see andembrace him; and pressing him in this manner, I took the liberty togently push him. He cast upon me a look that pierced my soul and wentaway: I followed him some few steps and then withdrew to recover breath;I never saw him again. May I, by the mercy of God, see him eternallywhere God's goodness doubtless has placed him!

The Dauphin reached the chamber of the King, full just then of company. As soon as, he appeared the King called him and embraced him tenderlyagain and again. These first moments, so touching, passed in wordsbroken by sobs and tears. 

Shortly afterwards the King looking at the Dauphin was terrified by thesame things that had previously struck me with affright. Everybodyaround was so, also the doctors more than the others. The King orderedthem to feel his pulse; that they found bad, so they said afterwards; forthe time they contented themselves with saying it was not regular, andthat the Dauphin would do wisely to go to bed. The King embraced himagain, recommended him very tenderly to take care of himself, and orderedhim to go to bed. He obeyed and rose no more!

It was now late in the morning. The King had passed a cruel night andhad a bad headache; he saw at his dinner, the few courtiers who presentedthemselves, and after dinner went to the Dauphin. The fever hadaugmented: the pulse was worse than before. The King passed into theapartments of Madame de Maintenon, and the Dauphin was left with hisattendants and his doctors. He spent the day in prayers and holyreading. 

On the morrow, Sunday, the uneasiness felt on account of the Dauphinaugmented. He himself did not conceal his belief that he should neverrise again, and that the plot Boudin had warned him of, had beenexecuted. He explained himself to this effect more than once, and alwayswith a disdain of earthly grandeur and an incomparable submission andlove of God. It is impossible to describe the general consternation. OnMonday the 15th, the King was bled. The Dauphin was no better thanbefore. The King and Madame de Maintenon saw him separately severaltimes during the day, which was passed in prayers and reading. 

On Tuesday, the 16th, the Dauphin was worse. He felt himself devoured bya consuming fire, which the external fever did not seem to justify; butthe pulse was very extraordinary and exceedingly menacing. This was adeceptive day. The marks on the Dauphin's face extended over all thebody. They were regarded as the marks of measles. Hope arose thereon, but the doctors and the most clear-sighted of the Court could not forgetthat these same marks had shown themselves on the body of the Dauphine; afact unknown out of her chamber until after death. 

On Wednesday, the 17th, the malady considerably increased. I had news atall moments of the Dauphin's state from Cheverny, an excellent apothecaryof the King and of my family. He hid nothing from us. He had told uswhat he thought of the Dauphine's illness; he told us now what he thoughtof the Dauphin's. I no longer hoped therefore, or rather I hoped to theend, against all hope. 

On Wednesday the pains increased. They were like a devouring fire, butmore violent than ever. Very late into the evening the Dauphin sent tothe King for permission to receive the communion early the next morning, without ceremony and without display, at the mass performed in hischamber. Nobody heard of this, that evening; it was not known until thefollowing morning. I was in extreme desolation; I scarcely saw the Kingonce a day. I did nothing but go in quest of news several times a day, and to the house of M. De Chevreuse, where I was completely free. M. DeChevreuse--always calm, always sanguine--endeavoured to prove to us byhis medical reasonings that there was more reason to hope than to fear, but he did so with a tranquillity that roused my impatience. I returnedhome to pass a cruel night. 

On Thursday morning, the 18th of February, I learned that the Dauphin, who had waited for midnight with impatience, had heard mass immediatelyafter the communion, had passed two hours in devout communication withGod, and that his reason then became embarrassed. Madame de Saint-Simontold me afterwards that he had received extreme unction: in fine, that hedied at half-past eight. These memoirs are not written to describe myprivate sentiments. But in reading them, --if, long after me, they shallever appear, my state and that of Madame de Saint-Simon will only tookeenly be felt. I will content myself with saying, that the first daysafter the Dauphin's death scarcely appeared to us more than moments; thatI wished to quit all, to withdraw from the Court and the world, and thatI was only hindered by the wisdom, conduct, and power over me of Madamede Saint-Simon, who yet had much trouble to subdue my sorrowful desires. Let me say something now of the young prince and his spouse, whom we thuslost in such quick succession. 

Never did princess arrive amongst us so young with so much instruction, or with such capacity to profit by instruction. Her skilful father, whothoroughly knew our Court, had painted it to her, and had made heracquainted with the only manner of making herself happy there. From thefirst moment of her arrival she had acted upon his lessons. Gentle, timid, but adroit, fearing to give the slightest pain to anybody, andthough all lightness and vivacity, very capable of far-stretching views;constraint, even to annoyance, cost her nothing, though she felt all itsweight. Complacency was natural to her, flowed from her, and wasexhibited towards every member of the Court. 

Regularly plain, with cheeks hanging, a forehead too prominent, a nosewithout meaning, thick biting lips, hair and eye-brows of dark chestnut, and well planted; the most speaking and most beautiful eyes in the world;few teeth, and those all rotten, about which she was the first to talkand jest; the most beautiful complexion and skin; not much bosom, butwhat there was admirable; the throat long, with the suspicion of agoitre, which did not ill become her; her head carried gallantly, majestically, gracefully; her mien noble; her smile most expressive; herfigure long, round, slender, easy, perfectly-shaped; her walk that of agoddess upon the clouds: with such qualifications she pleased supremely. Grace accompanied her every step, and shone through her manners and hermost ordinary conversation. An air always simple and natural, oftennaive, but seasoned with wit-this with the ease peculiar to her, charmedall who approached her, and communicated itself to them. She wished toplease even the most useless and the most ordinary persons, and yetwithout making an effort to do so. You were tempted to believe herwholly and solely devoted to those with whom she found herself. Hergaiety--young, quick, and active--animated all; and her nymph-likelightness carried her everywhere, like a whirlwind which fills severalplaces at once, and gives them movement and life. She was the ornamentof all diversions, the life and soul of all pleasure, and at ballsravished everybody by the justness and perfection of her dancing. Shecould be amused by playing for small sums but liked high gambling better, and was an excellent, good-tempered, and bold gamester. 

She spared nothing, not even her health, to gain Madame de Maintenon, andthrough her the King. Her suppleness towards them was without example, and never for a moment was at fault. She accompanied it with all thediscretion that her knowledge of them, acquired by study and experience, had given her, and could measure their dispositions to an inch. In thisway she had acquired a familiarity with them such as none of the King'schildren, not even the bastards, had approached. 

In public, serious, measured, with the King, and in timid decorum withMadame de Maintenon, whom she never addressed except as my aunt, thusprettily confounding friendship and rank. In private, prattling, skipping, flying around them, now perched upon the sides of their arm-chairs, now playing upon their knees, she clasped them round the neck, embraced them, kissed them, caressed them, rumpled them, tickled themunder the chin, tormented them, rummaged their tables, their papers, their letters, broke open the seals, and read the contents in spite ofopposition, if she saw that her waggeries were likely to be received ingood part. When the King was with his ministers, when he receivedcouriers, when the most important affairs were under discussion, she waspresent, and with such liberty, that, hearing the King and Madame deMaintenon speak one evening with affection of the Court of England, atthe time when peace was hoped for from Queen Anne, "My aunt, " she said, "you must admit that in England the queens govern better than the kings, and do you know why, my aunt?" asked she, running about and gambollingall the time, "because under kings it is women who govern, and men underqueens. " The joke is that they both laughed, and said she was right. 

The King really could not do without her. Everything went wrong with himif she was not by; even at his public supper, if she were away anadditional cloud of seriousness and silence settled around him. She tookgreat care to see him every day upon arriving and departing; and if someball in winter, or some pleasure party in summer, made her lose half thenight, she nevertheless adjusted things so well that she went andembraced the King the moment he was up, and amused him with a descriptionof the fete. 

She was so far removed from the thoughts of death, that on Candlemas-dayshe talked with Madame de Saint-Simon of people who had died since shehad been at Court, and of what she would herself do in old age, of thelife she would lead, and of such like matters. Alas! it pleased God, for our misfortune, to dispose of her differently. 

With all her coquetry--and she was not wanting in it--never woman seemedto take less heed of her appearance; her toilette was finished in amoment, she cared nothing for finery except at balls and fetes; if shedisplayed a little at other times it was simply in order to please theking. If the Court subsisted after her it was only to languish. Neverwas princess so regretted, never one so worthy of it: regrets have notyet passed away, the involuntary and secret bitterness they caused stillremain, with a frightful blank not yet filled up. 

Let me now turn to the Dauphin. 

The youth of this prince made every one tremble. Stern and choleric tothe last degree, and even against inanimate objects; impetuous withfrenzy, incapable of suffering the slightest resistance even from thehours and the elements, without flying into a passion that threatened todestroy his body; obstinate to excess; passionately fond of all kind ofvoluptuousness, of women, with even a worse passion strongly developed atthe same time; fond not less of wine, good living, hunting, music, andgaming, in which last he could not endure to be beaten; in fine, abandoned to every passion, and transported by every pleasure; oftentimeswild, naturally disposed towards cruelty; barbarous in raillery, and withan all-powerful capacity for ridicule. 

He looked down upon all men as from the sky, as atoms with whom he hadnothing in common; even his brothers scarcely appeared connecting linksbetween himself and human nature, although all had been educated togetherin perfect equality. His sense and penetration shone through everything. His replies, even in anger, astonished everybody. He amused himself withthe most abstract knowledge. The extent and vivacity of his intellectwere prodigious, and rendered him incapable of applying himself to onestudy at a time. 

So much intelligence and of such a kind, joined to such vivacity, sensibility, and passion, rendered his education difficult. But God, whois the master of all hearts, and whose divine spirit breathes where hewishes, worked a miracle on this prince between his eighteenth andtwentieth years. From this abyss he came out affable, gentle, humane, moderate, patient, modest, penitent, and humble; and austere, even morethan harmonised with his position. Devoted to his duties, feeling themto be immense, he thought only how to unite the duties of son and subjectwith those he saw to be destined for himself. The shortness of each daywas his only sorrow. All his force, all his consolation, was in prayerand pious reading. He clung with joy to the cross of his Saviour, repenting sincerely of his past pride. The King, with his outsidedevotion, soon saw with secret displeasure his own life censured by thatof a prince so young, who refused himself a new desk in order to give themoney it would cost to the poor, and who did not care to accept some newgilding with which it was proposed to furnish his little room. Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne, alarmed at so austere a spouse, leftnothing undone in order to soften him. Her charms, with which he wassmitten, the cunning and the unbridled importunities of the young ladiesof her suite, disguised in a hundred different forms--the attraction ofparties and pleasures to which he was far from insensible, all weredisplayed every day.. But for a long time he behaved not like a princebut like a novice. On one occasion he refused to be present at a ball onTwelfth Night, and in various ways made himself ridiculous at Court. In due time, however, he comprehended that the faithful performance ofthe duties proper to the state in which he had been placed, would be theconduct most agreeable to God. The bark of the tree, little by little, grew softer without affecting the solidity of the trunk. He appliedhimself to the studies which were necessary, in order to instruct himselfin public affairs, and at the same time he lent himself more to theworld, doing so with so much grace, with such a natural air, thateverybody soon began to grow reconciled to him. 

The discernment of this prince was such, that, like the bee, he gatheredthe most perfect substance from the best and most beautiful flowers. Hetried to fathom men, to draw from them the instruction and the light thathe could hope for. He conferred sometimes, but rarely, with othersbesides his chosen few. I was the only one, not of that number, who hadcomplete access to him; with me he opened his heart upon the present andthe future with confidence, with sageness, with discretion. A volumewould not describe sufficiently my private interviews with this prince, what love of good! what forgetfulness of self! what researches! whatfruit! what purity of purpose!--May I say it? what reflection of thedivinity in that mind, candid, simple, strong, which as much as ispossible here below had preserved the image of its maker!

If you had business, and thought of opening it to him, say for a quarterof an hour or half an hour, he gave you oftentimes two hours or more, according as he found himself at liberty. Yet he was without verbiage, compliments, prefaces, pleasantries, or other hindrances; went straightto the point, and allowed you to go also. 

His undue scruples of devotion diminished every day, as he found himselfface to face with the world; above all, he was well cured of theinclination for piety in preference to talent, that is to say, for makinga man ambassador, minister, or general, rather on account of hisdevotedness than of his capacity or experience. He saw the danger ofinducing hypocrisy by placing devotion too high as a qualification foremploy. 

It was he who was not afraid to say publicly, in the Salon of Marly, that"a king is made for his subjects, and not the subjects for him;" a remarkthat, except under his own reign, which God did not permit, would havebeen the most frightful blasphemy. 

Great God! what a spectacle you gave to us in him. What tender buttranquil views he had! What submission and love of God! What aconsciousness of his own nothingness, and of his sins! What amagnificent idea of the infinite mercy! What religious and humble fear!What tempered confidence! What patience!

What constant goodness for all who approached him! France fell, in fine, under this last chastisement. God showed to her a prince she meritednot. The earth was not worthy of him; he was ripe already for theblessed eternity!

CHAPTER LX

The consternation at the event that had taken place was real and general;it penetrated to foreign lands and courts. Whilst the people wept forhim who thought only of their relief, and all France lamented a princewho only wished to reign in order to render it flourishing and happy, the sovereigns of Europe publicly lamented him whom they regarded astheir example, and whose virtues were preparing him to be theirarbitrator, and the peaceful and revered moderator of nations. The Popewas so touched that he resolved of himself to set aside all rule and holdexpressly a consistory; deplored there the infinite loss the church andall Christianity had sustained, and pronounced a complete eulogium of theprince who caused the just regrets of all Europe. 

On Saturday, the 13th, the corpse of the Dauphine was left in its bedwith uncovered face, and opened the same evening at eleven in presence ofall the faculty. On the 15th it was placed in the grand cabinet, wheremasses were continually said. 

On Friday, the 19th, the corpse of Monseigneur le Dauphin was opened, alittle more than twenty-four hours after his death, also in presence ofall the faculty. His heart was immediately carried to Versailles, andplaced by the side of that of Madame la Dauphine. Both were afterwardstaken to the Val de Grace. They arrived at midnight with a numerouscortege. All was finished in two hours. The corpse of Monseigneur leDauphin was afterwards carried from Marly to Versailles, and placed bythe side of Madame la Dauphine on the same estrade. 

On Tuesday, the 23rd February, the two bodies were taken from Versaillesto Saint-Denis in the same chariot. The procession began to enter Parisby the Porte Saint-Honore at two o'clock in the morning, and arrivedbetween seven and eight o'clock in the morning at Saint-Denis. There wasgreat order in Paris, and no confusion. 

On Tuesday, the 8th March, Monseigneur le Duc de Bretagne, eldest son ofMonsieur le Dauphin, who had succeeded to the name and rank of hisfather, being then only five years and some months old, and who had beenseized with measles within a few days, expired, in spite of all theremedies given him. His brother, M. Le Duc d'Anjou, who still sucked, was taken ill at the same time, but thanks to the care of the Duchesse deVentadour, whom in after life he never forgot, and who administered anantidote, escaped, and is now King. 

Thus three Dauphins died in less than a year, and father, mother, andeldest son in twenty-four days! On Wednesday, the 9th of March, thecorpse of the little Dauphin was opened at night, and without anyceremony his heart was taken to the Val de Grace, his body to Saint-Denis, and placed by the side of those of his father and mother. M. LeDuc d'Anjou, now, sole remaining child, succeeded to the title and to therank of Dauphin. 

I have said that the bodies of the Dauphin and the Dauphine were openedin presence of all the faculty. The report made upon the opening of thelatter was not consolatory. Only one of the doctors declared there wereno signs of poison; the rest were of the opposite opinion. When the bodyof the Dauphin was opened, everybody was terrified. His viscera wereall dissolved; his heart had no consistency; its substance flowed throughthe hands of those who tried to hold it; an intolerable odour, too, filled the apartment. The majority of the doctors declared they saw inall this the effect of a very subtle and very violent poison, which hadconsumed all the interior of the body, like a burning fire. As before, there was one of their number who held different views, but this wasMarechal, who declared that to persuade the King of the existence ofsecret enemies of his family would be to kill him by degrees. 

This medical opinion that the cause of the Dauphin's and the Dauphine'sdeath was poison, soon spread like wildfire over the Court and the city. Public indignation fell upon M. D'Orleans, who was at once pointed out asthe poisoner. The rapidity with which this rumour filled the Court, Paris, the provinces, the least frequented places, the most isolatedmonasteries, the most deserted solitudes, all foreign countries and allthe peoples of Europe, recalled to me the efforts of the cabal, which hadpreviously spread such black reports against the honour of him whom allthe world now wept, and showed that the cabal, though dispersed, was notdissolved. 

In effect M. Du Maine, now the head of the cabal, who had all to gain andnothing to lose by the death of the Dauphin and Dauphine, from both ofwhom he had studiously held aloof, and who thoroughly disliked M. D'Orleans, did all in his power to circulate this odious report. Hecommunicated it to Madame de Maintenon, by whom it reached the King. Ina short time all the Court, down to the meanest valets, publicly criedvengeance upon M. D'Orleans, with an air of the most unbridledindignation and of perfect security. 

M. D'Orleans, with respect to the two losses that afflicted the public, had an interest the most directly opposite to that of M. Du Maine; he hadeverything to gain by the life of the Dauphin and Dauphine, and unless hehad been a monster vomited forth from hell he could not have been guiltyof the crime with which he was charged. Nevertheless, the odiousaccusation flew from mouth to mouth, and took refuge in every breast. 

Let us compare the interest M. D'Orleans had in the life of the Dauphinwith the interest M. Du Maine had in his death, and then look about forthe poisoner. But this is not all. Let us remember how M. Le Ducd'Orleans was treated by Monseigneur, and yet what genuine grief hedisplayed at the death of that prince. What a contrast was this conductwith that of M. Du Maine at another time, who, after leaving the King(Louis XIV. ) at the point of death, delivered over to an ignorantpeasant, imitated that peasant so naturally and so pleasantly, thatbursts of laughter extended to the gallery, and scandalized the passers-by. This is a celebrated and very characteristic fact, which will findits proper place if I live long enough to carry these memoirs up to thedeath of the King. 

M. D'Orleans was, however, already in such bad odour, that people wereready to believe anything to his discredit. They drank in this newreport so rapidly, that on the 17th of February, as he went with Madameto give the holy water to the corpse of the Dauphine, the crowd of thepeople threw out all sorts of accusations against him, which both he andMadame very distinctly heard, without daring to show it, and were introuble, embarrassment, and indignation, as may be imagined. There waseven ground for fearing worse from an excited and credulous populace whenM. D'Orleans went alone to give the holy water to the corpse of theDauphin. For he had to endure on his passage atrocious insults from apopulace which uttered aloud the most frightful observations, whichpointed the finger at him with the coarsest epithets, and which believedit was doing him a favour in not falling upon him and tearing him topieces!

Similar circumstances took place at the funeral procession. The streetsresounded more with cries of indignation against M. D'Orleans and abuseof him than with grief. Silent precautions were not forgotten in Parisin order to check the public fury, the boiling over of which was fearedat different moments. The people recompensed themselves by gestures, cries, and other atrocities, vomited against M. D'Orleans. Near thePalais Royal, before which the procession passed, the increase of shouts, of cries, of abuse, was so great, that for some minutes everything was tobe feared. 

It may be imagined what use M. Du Maine contrived to make of the publicfolly, the rumours of the Paris cafes, the feeling of the salon of Marly, that of the Parliament, the reports that arrived from the provinces andforeign countries. In a short time so overpowered was M. D'Orleans bythe feeling against him everywhere exhibited, that acting upon very ill-judged advice he spoke to the King upon the subject, and begged to beallowed to surrender himself as a prisoner at the Bastille, until hischaracter was cleared from stain. 

I was terribly annoyed when I heard that M. D'Orleans had taken thisstep, which could not possibly lead to good. I had quite another sort ofscheme in my head which I should have proposed to him had I known of hisresolve. Fortunately, however, the King was persuaded not to grant M. D'Orleans' request, out of which therefore nothing came. The Dukemeanwhile lived more abandoned by everybody than ever; if in the salon heapproached a group of courtiers, each, without the least hesitation, turned to the right or to the left and went elsewhere, so that it wasimpossible for him to accost anybody except by surprise, and if he didso, he was left alone directly after with the most marked indecency. In a word, I was the only person, I say distinctly, the only person, who spoke to M. D'Orleans as before. Whether in his own house or in thepalace I conversed with him, seated myself by his side in a corner of thesalon, where assuredly we had no third person to fear, and walked withhim in the gardens under the very windows of the King and of Madame deMaintenon. 

Nevertheless, all my friends warned me that if I pursued this conduct soopposite to that in vogue, I should assuredly fall into disgrace. I heldfirm. I thought that when we did not believe our friends guilty we oughtnot to desert them, but, on the contrary, to draw closer to them, as byhonour bound, give them the consolation due from us, and show thus to theworld our hatred for calumny. My friends insisted; gave me to understandthat the King disapproved my conduct, that Madame de Maintenon wasannoyed at it: they forgot nothing to awaken my fears. But I wasinsensible to all they said to me, and did not omit seeing M. D'Orleans asingle day; often stopping with him two and three hours at a time. 

A few weeks had passed over thus, when one morning M. De Beauvillierscalled upon me, and urged me to plead business, and at once withdraw toLa Ferme; intimating that if I did not do so of my own accord, I shouldbe compelled by an order from the King. He never explained himself morefully, but I have always remained persuaded that the King or Madame deMaintenon had sent him to me, and had told him that I should be banishedif I did not banish myself. Neither my absence nor my departure made anystir; nobody suspected anything. I was carefully informed, withoutknowing by whom, when my exile was likely to end: and I returned, after amonth or five weeks, straight to the Court, where I kept up the sameintimacy with M. D'Orleans as before. 

But he was not yet at the end of his misfortunes. The Princesse desUrsins had not forgiven him his pleasantry at her expense. Chalais, oneof her most useful agents, was despatched by her on a journey somysterious that its obscurity has never been illuminated. He waseighteen days on the road, unknown, concealing his name, and passingwithin two leagues of Chalais, where his father and mother lived, withoutgiving them any signs of life, although all were on very good terms. Heloitered secretly in Poitou, and at last arrested there a Cordelier monk, of middle age, in the convent of Bressuire, who cried, "Ah! I am lost!"upon being caught. Chalais conducted him to the prison of Poitiers, whence he despatched to Madrid an officer of dragoons he had brought withhim, and who knew this Cordelier, whose name has never transpired, although it is certain he was really a Cordelier, and that he wasreturning from as journey in Italy and Germany that had extended as faras Vienna. Chalais pushed on to Paris, and came to Marly on the 27th ofApril, a day on which the King had taken medicine. After dinner he wastaken by Torcy to the King, with whom he remained half an hour, delayingthus the Council of State for the same time, and then returnedimmediately to Paris. So much trouble had not been taken for no purpose:and Chalais had not prostituted himself to play the part of prevot to amiserable monk without expecting good winnings from the game. Immediately afterwards the most dreadful rumours were everywhere incirculation against M. D'Orleans, who, it was said, had poisoned theDauphin and Dauphine by means of this monk, who, nevertheless, was farenough away from our Prince and Princess at the time of their death. Inan instant Paris resounded with these horrors; the provinces wereinundated with them, and immediately afterwards foreign countries--thistoo with an incredible rapidity, which plainly showed how well the plothad been prepared--and a publicity that reached the very caverns of theearth. Madame des Ursins was not less served in Spain than M. Du Maineand Madame de Maintenon in France. The anger of the public was doubled. The Cordelier was brought, bound hand and foot, to the Bastille, anddelivered up to D'Argenson, Lieutenant of Police. 

This D'Argenson rendered an account to the King of many things whichPontchartrain, as Secretary of State, considered to belong to hisdepartment. Pontchartrain was vexed beyond measure at this, and couldnot see without despair his subaltern become a kind of minister morefeared, more valued, more in consideration than he, and conduct himselfalways in such manner that he gained many powerful friends, and made butfew enemies, and those of but little moment. M. D'Orleans bowed beforethe storm that he could not avert; it could not increase the generaldesertion; he had accustomed himself to his solitude, and, as he hadnever heard this monk spoken of, had not the slightest fear on hisaccount. D'Argenson, who questioned the Cordelier several times, andcarried his replies daily to the King, was sufficiently adroit to pay hiscourt to M. D'Orleans, by telling him that the prisoner had utterednothing which concerned him, and by representing the services he did M. D'Orleans with the King. Like a sagacious man, D'Argenson saw themadness of popular anger devoid of all foundation, and which could nothinder M. D'Orleans from being a very considerable person in France, during a minority that--the age of the King showed to be pretty near. He took care, therefore, to avail himself of the mystery which surroundedhis office, to ingratiate himself more and more with M. D'Orleans, whomhe had always carefully though secretly served; and his conduct, as willbe seen in due time, procured him a large fortune. 

But I have gone too far. I must retrace my steps, to speak of things Ihave omitted to notice in their proper place. 

The two Dauphins and the Dauphine were interred at Saint-Denis, onMonday, the 18th of April. The funeral oration was pronounced by Maboul, Bishop of Aleth, and pleased; M. De Metz, chief chaplain, officiated; theservice commenced at about eleven o'clock. As it was very long, it wasthought well to have at hand a large vase of vinegar, in case anybodyshould be ill. M. De Metz having taken the first oblation, and observingthat very little wine was left for the second, asked for more. Thislarge vase of vinegar was supposed to be wine, and M. De Metz, who wishedto strengthen himself, said, washing his fingers over the chalice, "fillright up. " He swallowed all at a draught, and did not perceive until theend that he had drunk vinegar; his grimace and his complaint caused somelittle laughter round him; and he often related this adventure, whichmuch soured him. On Monday, the 20th of May, the funeral service for theDauphin and Dauphine was performed at Notre Dame. 

Let me here say, that before the Prince and his spouse were buried, thatis to say, the 6th of April, the King gave orders for the recommencementof the usual play at Marly; and that M. Le Duc de Berry and Madame laDuchesse de Berry presided in the salon at the public lansquenet andbrelan; and the different gaming tables for all the Court. In a shorttime the King dined in Madame de Maintenon's apartments once or twice aweek, and had music there. And all this, as I have remarked, with thecorpse of the Dauphin and that of the Dauphine still above ground. 

The gap left by the death of the Dauphine could not, however, be easilyfilled up. Some months after her loss, the King began to feel greatennui steal upon him in the hours when he had no work with his ministers. The few ladies admitted into the apartments of Madame de Maintenon whenhe was there, were unable to entertain him. Music, frequentlyintroduced, languished from that cause. Detached scenes from thecomedies of Moliere were thought of, and were played by the King'smusicians, comedians for the nonce. Madame de Maintenon introduced, too, the Marechal de Villeroy, to amuse the King by relating their youthfuladventures. 

Evening amusements became more and more frequent in Madame de Maintenon'sapartments, where, however, nothing could fill up the void left by thepoor Dauphine. 

I have said little of the grief I felt at the loss of the prince whomeverybody so deeply regretted. As will be believed, it was bitter andprofound. The day of his death, I barricaded myself in my own house, andonly left it for one instant in order to join the King at his promenadein the gardens. The vexation I felt upon seeing him followed almost asusual, did not permit me to stop more than an instant. All the rest ofthe stay at Versailles, I scarcely left my room, except to visit M. DeBeauvilliers. I will admit that, to reach M. De Beauvilliers' house, Imade a circuit between the canal and the gardens of Versailles, so as tospare myself the sight of the chamber of death, which I had not forceenough to approach. I admit that I was weak. I was sustained neither bythe piety, superior to all things, of M. De Beauvilliers, nor by that ofMadame de Saint-Simon, who nevertheless not the less suffered. The truthis, I was in despair. To those who know my position, this will appearless strange than my being able to support at all so complete amisfortune. I experienced this sadness precisely at the same age as thatof my father when he lost Louis XIII. ; but he at least had enjoyed theresults of favour, whilst I, 'Gustavi paululum mellis, et ecce morior. 'Yet this was not all. 

In the casket of the Dauphin there were several papers he had asked mefor. I had drawn them up in all confidence; he had preserved them in thesame manner. There was one, very large, in my hand, which if seen by theKing, would have robbed me of his favour for ever; ruined me without hopeof return. We do not think in time of such catastrophes. The King knewmy handwriting; he did not know my mode of thought, but might pretty wellhave guessed it. I had sometimes supplied him with means to do so; mygood friends of the Court had done the rest. The King when he discoveredmy paper would also discover on what close terms of intimacy I had beenwith the Dauphin, of which he had no suspicion. My anguish was thencruel, and there seemed every reason to believe that if my secret wasfound out, I should be disgraced and exiled during all the rest of theKing's reign. 

What a contrast between the bright heaven I had so recently gazed uponand the abyss now yawning at my feet! But so it is in the Court and theworld! I felt then the nothingness of even the most desirable future, byan inward sentiment, which, nevertheless, indicates how we cling to it. Fear on account of the contents of the casket had scarcely any power overme. I was obliged to reflect in order to return to it from time to time. Regret for this incomparable Dauphin pierced my heart, and suspended allthe faculties of my soul. For a long time I wished to fly from theCourt, so that I might never again see the deceitful face of the world;and it was some time before prudence and honour got the upper hand. 

It so happened that the, Duc de Beauvilliers himself was able to carrythis casket to the King, who had the key of it. M. De Beauvilliers infact resolved not to trust it out of his own hands, but to wait until hewas well enough to take it to the King, so that he might then try to hidemy papers from view. This task was difficult, for he did not know theposition in the casket of these dangerous documents, and yet it was ouronly resource. This terrible uncertainty lasted more than a fortnight. 

On Tuesday, the 1st of March, M. De Beauvilliers carried the casket tothe King. He came to me shortly after, and before sitting down, indicated by signs that there was no further occasion for fear. He thenrelated to me that he had found the casket full of a mass of documents, finance projects, reports from the provinces, papers of all kinds, thathe had read some of them to the King on purpose to weary him, and hadsucceeded so well that the King soon was satisfied by hearing only thetitles; and, at last, tired out by not finding anything important, saidit was not worth while to read more, and that there was nothing to do butto throw everything into the fire. The Duke assured me that he did notwait to be told twice, being all the more anxious to comply, because atthe bottom of the casket he had seen some of my handwriting, which he hadpromptly covered up in taking other papers to read their titles to theKing; and that immediately the word "fire" was uttered, he confusedlythrew all the papers into the casket, and then emptied it near the fire, betweein the King and Madame de Maintenon, taking good care as he did sothat my documents should not be seen, --even cautiously using the tongs inorder to prevent any piece flying away, and not quitting the fireplaceuntil he had seen every page consumed. We embraced each other, in therelief we reciprocally felt, relief proportioned to the danger we hadrun. 

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

A king is made for his subjects, and not the subjects for himA lingering fear lest the sick man should recoverDanger of inducing hypocrisy by placing devotion too highFor want of better support I sustained myself with courageInterests of all interested painted on their facesNever was a man so ready with tears, so backward with griefSuspicion of a goitre, which did not ill become herThe shortness of each day was his only sorrow