MEMOIRS OF LOUIS XIV AND HIS COURT AND OF THE REGENCY

 BY THE DUKE OF SAINT-SIMON

VOLUME 4. 

CHAPTER XXV

Canaples, brother of the Marechal de Crequi, wished to marry Mademoisellede Vivonne who was no longer young, but was distinguished by talent, virtue and high birth; she had not a penny. The Cardinal de Coislin, thinking Canaples too old to marry, told him so. Canaples said he wantedto have children. "Children!" exclaimed the Cardinal. "But she is sovirtuous!" Everybody burst out laughing; and the more willingly, as theCardinal, very pure in his manners, was still more so in his language. His saying was verified by the event: the marriage proved sterile. 

The Duc de Coislin died about this time. I have related in its properplace an adventure that happened to him and his brother, the Chevalier deCoislin: now I will say something more of the Duke. He was a very littleman, of much humour and virtue, but of a politeness that was unendurable, and that passed all bounds, though not incompatible with dignity. He hadbeen lieutenant-general in the army. Upon one occasion, after a battlein which he had taken part, one of the Rhingraves who had been madeprisoner, fell to his lot. The Duc de Coislin wished to give up to theother his bed, which consisted indeed of but a mattress. Theycomplimented each other so much, the one pressing, the other refusing, that in the end they both slept upon the ground, leaving the mattressbetween them. The Rhingrave in due time came to Paris and called on theDuc de Coislin. When he was going, there was such a profusion ofcompliments, and the Duke insisted so much on seeing him out, that theRhingrave, as a last resource, ran out of the room, and double locked thedoor outside. M. De Coislin was not thus to be outdone. His apartmentswere only a few feet above the ground. He opened the window accordingly, leaped out into the court, and arrived thus at the entrance-door beforethe Rhingrave, who thought the devil must have carried him there. TheDuc de Coislin, however, had managed to put his thumb out of joint bythis leap. He called in Felix, chief surgeon of the King, who soon putthe thumb to rights. Soon afterwards Felix made a call upon M. DeCoislin to see how he was, and found that the cure was perfect. As hewas about to leave, M. De Coislin must needs open the door for him. Felix, with a shower of bows, tried hard to prevent this, and while theywere thus vying in politeness, each with a hand upon the door, the Dukesuddenly drew back; he had put his thumb out of joint again, and Felixwas obliged to attend to it on the spot! It may be imagined whatlaughter this story caused the King, and everybody else, when it becameknown. 

There was no end to the outrageous civilities of M. De Coislin. Onreturning from Fontainebleau one day, we, that is Madame de Saint-Simonand myself, encountered M. De Coislin and his son, M. De Metz, on footupon the pavement of Ponthierry, where their coach had broken down. Wesent word, accordingly, that we should be glad to accommodate them inours. But message followed message on both sides; and at last I wascompelled to alight and to walk through the mud, begging them to mountinto my coach. M. De Coislin, yielding to my prayers, consented to this. M. De Metz was furious with him for his compliments, and at lastprevailed on him. When M. De Coislin had accepted my offer and we hadnothing more to do than to gain the coach, he began to capitulate, and toprotest that he would not displace the two young ladies he saw seated inthe vehicle. I told him that the two young ladies were chambermaids, whocould well afford to wait until the other carriage was mended, and thencontinue their journey in that. But he would not hear of this; and atlast all that M. De Metz and I could do was to compromise the matter, byagreeing to take one of the chambermaids with us. When we arrived at thecoach, they both descended, in order to allow us to mount. During thecompliments that passed--and they were not short--I told the servant whoheld the coach-door open, to close it as soon as I was inside, and toorder the coachman to drive on at once. This was done; but M. De Coislinimmediately began to cry aloud that he would jump out if we did not stopfor the young ladies; and he set himself to do so in such an odd manner, that I had only time to catch hold of the belt of his breeches and holdhim back; but he still, with his head hanging out of the window, exclaimed that he would leap out, and pulled against me. At thisabsurdity I called to the coachman to stop; the Duke with difficultyrecovered himself, and persisted that he would have thrown himself out. The chambermaid was ordered to mount, and mount she did, all covered withmud, which daubed us; and she nearly crushed M. De Metz and me in thiscarriage fit only for four. 

M. De Coislin could not bear that at parting anybody should give him the"last touch;" a piece of sport, rarely cared for except in early youth, and out of which arises a chase by the person touched, in order to catchhim by whom he has been touched. One evening, when the Court was atNancy, and just as everybody was going to bed, M. De Longueville spoke afew words in private to two of his torch-bearers, and then touching theDuc de Coislin, said he had given him the last touch, and scampered away, the Duke hotly pursuing him. Once a little in advance, M. De Longuevillehid himself in a doorway, allowed M. De Coislin to pass on, and then wentquietly home to bed. Meanwhile the Duke, lighted by the torch-bearers, searched for M. De Longueville all over the town, but meeting with nosuccess, was obliged to give up the chase, and went home all in a sweat. He was obliged of course to laugh a good deal at this joke, but heevidently did not like it over much. 

With all his politeness, which was in no way put on, M. De Coislin could, when he pleased, show a great deal of firmness, and a resolution tomaintain his proper dignity worthy of much praise. At Nancy, on thissame occasion, the Duc de Crequi, not finding apartments provided for himto his taste on arriving in town, went, in his brutal manner, and seizedupon those allotted to the Duc de Coislin. The Duke, arriving a momentafter, found his servants turned into the street, and soon learned whohad sent them there. M. De Crequi had precedence of him in rank; he saidnot a word, therefore, but went to the apartments provided for theMarechal de Crequi (brother of the other), served him exactly as hehimself had just been served, and took up his quarters there. TheMarechal de Crequi arrived in his turn, learned what had occurred, andimmediately seized upon the apartments of Cavoye, in order to teach himhow to provide quarters in future so as to avoid all disputes. 

On another occasion, M. De Coislin went to the Sorbonne to listen to athesis sustained by the second son of M. De Bouillon. When persons ofdistinction gave these discourses, it was customary for the Princes ofthe blood, and for many of the Court, to go and hear them. M. De Coislinwas at that time almost last in order of precedence among the Dukes. When he took his seat, therefore, knowing that a number of them wouldprobably arrive, he left several rows of vacant places in front of him, and sat himself down. Immediately afterwards, Novion, Chief President ofthe Parliament, arrived, and seated himself in front of M. De Coislin. Astonished at this act of madness, M. De Coislin said not a word, buttook an arm-chair, and, while Novion turned his head to speak to Cardinalde Bouillon, placed that arm-chair in front of the Chief President insuch a manner that he was as it were imprisoned, and unable to stir. M. De Coislin then sat down. This was done so rapidly, that nobody sawit until it was finished. When once it was observed, a great stir arose. Cardinal de Bouillon tried to intervene. M. De Coislin replied, thatsince the Chief President had forgotten his position he must be taughtit, and would not budge. The other presidents were in a fright, andNovion, enraged by the offence put on him, knew not what to do. It wasin vain that Cardinal de Bouillon on one side, and his brother on theother, tried to persuade M. De Coislin to give way. He would not listento them. They sent a message to him to say that somebody wanted to seehim at the door on most important business. But this had no effect. "There is no business so important, " replied M. De Coislin, "as that ofteaching M. Le Premier President what he owes me, and nothing will makeme go from this place unless M. Le President, whom you see behind me, goes away first. "

At last M. Le Prince was sent for, and he with much persuasionendeavoured to induce M. De Coislin to release the Chief President fromhis prison. But for some time M. De Coislin would listen as little to M. Le Prince as he had listened to the others, and threatened to keep Novionthus shut up during all the thesis. At length, he consented to set theChief President free, but only on condition that he left the buildingimmediately; that M. Le Prince should guarantee this; and that no"juggling tricks" (that was the term he made use of), should be playedoff to defeat the agreement. M. Le Prince at once gave his word thateverything should be as he required, and M. De Coislin then rose, movedaway his arm-chair, and said to the Chief President, "Go away, sir! goaway, sir! "Novion did on the instant go away, in the utmost confusion, and jumped into his coach. M. De Coislin thereupon took back his chairto its former position and composed himself to listen again. 

On every side M. De Coislin was praised for the firmness he had shown. The Princes of the blood called upon him the same evening, andcomplimented him for the course he had adopted; and so many othervisitors came during the evening that his house was quite full until alate hour. On the morrow the King also praised him for his conduct, andseverely blamed the Chief President. Nay more, he commanded the latterto go to M. De Coislin, at his house, and beg pardon of him. It is easyto comprehend the shame and despair of Novion at being ordered to take sohumiliating a step, especially after what had already happened to him. He prevailed upon M. Le Coislin, through the mediation of friends, tospare him this pain, and M. De Coislin had the generosity to do so. Heagreed therefore that when Novion called upon him he would pretend to beout, and this was done. The King, when he heard of it, praised veryhighly the forbearance of the Duke. 

He was not an old man when he died, but was eaten up with the gout, whichhe sometimes had in his eyes, in his nose, and in his tongue. When inthis state, his room was filled with the best company. He was verygenerally liked, was truth itself in his dealings and his words, and wasone of my friends, as he had been the friend of my father before me. 

The President de Novion, above alluded to, was a man given up toiniquity, whom money and obscure mistresses alone influenced. Lawyerscomplained of his caprices, and pleaders of his injustice. At last, hewent so far as to change decisions of the court when they were given himto sign, which was not found out for some time, but which led to hisdisgrace. He was replaced by Harlay in 1689; and lived in ignominy forfour years more. 

About this time died Petit, a great physician, who had wit, knowledge, experience, and probity; and yet lived to the last without being everbrought to admit the circulation of the blood. 

A rather strange novelty was observed at Fontainebleau: Madame publiclyat the play, in the second year of her mourning for Monsieur! She madesome objections at first, but the King persuaded her, saying that whattook place in his palace ought not to be considered as public. 

On Saturday, the 22nd of October of this year (1702), at about ten in themorning, I had the misfortune to lose my father-in-law, the Marechal deLorges, who died from the effects of an unskilful operation performedupon him for the stone. He had been brought up as a Protestant, and hadpractised that religion. But he had consulted on the one hand withBossuet, and on the other hand with M. Claude, (Protestant) minister ofCharenton, without acquainting them that he was thus in communicationwith both. In the end the arguments of Bossuet so convinced him that helost from that time all his doubts, became steadfastly attached to theCatholic religion, and strove hard to convert to it all the Protestantswith whom he spoke. M. De Turenne, with whom he was intimately allied, was in a similar state of mind, and, singularly enough, his doubts wereresolved at the same time, and in exactly the same manner, as those of M. De Lorges. The joy of the two friends, who had both feared they shouldbe estranged from each other when they announced their conversion, wasvery great. The Comtesse de Roye, sister to M. De Lorges, was sorelyaffected at this change, and she would not consent to see him except oncondition that he never spoke of it. 

M. De Lorges commanded with great distinction in Holland and elsewhere, and at the death of M. De Turenne, took for the time, and with greathonour, his place. He was made Marshal of France on the 21st ofFebruary, 1676, not before he had fairly won that distinction. Theremainder of his career showed his capacity in many ways, and acquiredfor him the esteem of all. His family were affected beyond measure athis loss. That house was in truth terrible to see. Never was man sotenderly or so universally regretted, or so worthy of being so. Besidesmy own grief, I had to sustain that of Madame de Saint-Simon, whom manytimes I thought I should lose. Nothing was comparable to the attachmentshe had for her father, or the tenderness he had for her; nothing moreperfectly alike than their hearts and their dispositions. As for me, Iloved him as a father, and he loved me as a son, with the most entire andsweetest confidence. 

About the same time died the Duchesse de Gesvres, separated from ahusband who had been the scourge of his family, and had dissipatedmillions of her fortune. She was a sort of witch, tall and lean, whowalked like an ostrich. She sometimes came to Court, with the odd lookand famished expression to which her husband had brought her. Virtue, wit, and dignity distinguished her. I remember that one summer the Kingtook to going very often in the evening to Trianon, and that once for allhe gave permission to all the Court, men and women, to follow him. Therewas a grand collation for the Princesses, his daughters, who took theirfriends there, and indeed all the women went to it if they pleased. Oneday the Duchesse de Gesvres took it into her head to go to Trianon andpartake of this meal; her age, her rarity at Court, her accoutrements, and her face, provoked the Princesses to make fun of her in whispers withtheir fair visitors. She perceived this, and without being embarrassed, took them up so sharply, that they were silenced, and looked down. Butthis was not all: after the collation she began to talk so freely and yetso humorously about them that they were frightened, and went and madetheir excuses, and very frankly asked for quarter. Madame de Gesvres wasgood enough to grant them this, but said it was only on condition thatthey learned how to behave. Never afterwards did they venture to look ather impertinently. Nothing was ever so magnificent as these soirees ofTrianon. All the flowers of the parterres were renewed every day; and Ihave seen the King and all the Court obliged to go away because of thetuberoses, the odour of which perfumed the air, but so powerfully, onaccount of their quantity, that nobody could remain in the garden, although very vast, and stretching like a terrace all along the canal. 

CHAPTER XXVI

The Prince d'Harcourt at last obtained permission to wait on the King, after having never appeared at Court for seventeen years. He hadfollowed the King in all his conquests in the Low Countries and Franche-Comte; but he had remained little at the Court since his voyage to Spain, whither he had accompanied the daughter of Monsieur to the King, CharlesII. , her husband. The Prince d'Harcourt took service with Venice, andfought in the Morea until the Republic made peace with the Turks. He wastall, well made; and, although he looked like a nobleman and had wit, reminded one at the same time of a country actor. He was a great liar, and a libertine in body and mind; a great spendthrift, a great andimpudent swindler, with a tendency to low debauchery, that cursed him allhis life. Having fluttered about a long time after his return, and foundit impossible either to live with his wife--which is not surprising--oraccommodate himself to the Court or to Paris, he set up his rest at Lyonswith wine, street-walkers, a society to match, a pack of hounds, and agaming-table to support his extravagance and enable him to live at theexpense of the dupes, the imbeciles, and the sons of fat tradesmen, whomhe could lure into his nets. Thus he spent many years, and seemed toforget that there existed in the world another country besides Lyons. At last he got tired, and returned to Paris. The King, who despised him, let him alone, but would not see him; and it was only after two months ofbegging for him by the Lorraines, that he received permission to presenthimself. His wife, the Princesse d'Harcourt, was a favourite of Madamede Maintenon. The origin of their friendship is traced to the fact thatBrancas, the father of the Princess, had been one of the lovers of Madamede Maintenon. No claim less powerful could have induced the latter totake into her favour a person who was so little worthy. Like all womenwho know nothing but what chance has taught them, and who have longlanguished in obscurity before arriving at splendour, Madame de Maintenonwas dazzled by the very name of Princess, even if assumed: as to a realPrincess, nothing equalled her in her opinion. The Princess then triedhard to get the Prince invited to Marly, but without success. Upon thisshe pretended to sulk, in hopes that Madame de Maintenon would exert allher influence; but in this she was mistaken. The Prince accordingly bydegrees got disgusted with the Court, and retired into the provinces fora time. 

The Princesse d'Harcourt was a sort of personage whom it is good to makeknown, in order better to lay bare a Court which did not scruple toreceive such as she. She had once been beautiful and gay; but though notold, all her grace and beauty had vanished. The rose had become an uglythorn. At the time I speak of she was a tall, fat creature, mightilybrisk in her movements, with a complexion like milk-porridge; great, ugly, thick lips, and hair like tow, always sticking out and hanging downin disorder, like all the rest of her fittings out. Dirty, slatternly, always intriguing, pretending, enterprising, quarrelling--always low asthe grass or high as the rainbow, according to the person with whom shehad to deal: she was a blonde Fury, nay more, a harpy: she had all theeffrontery of one, and the deceit and violence; all the avarice and theaudacity; moreover, all the gluttony, and all the promptitude to relieveherself from the effects thereof; so that she drove out of their witsthose at whose house she dined; was often a victim of her confidence; andwas many a time sent to the devil by the servants of M. Du Maine and M. Le Grand. She, however, was never in the least embarrassed, tucked upher petticoats and went her way; then returned, saying she had beenunwell. People were accustomed to it. 

Whenever money was to be made by scheming and bribery, she was there tomake it. At play she always cheated, and if found out stormed and raged;but pocketed what she had won. People looked upon her as they would havelooked upon a fish-fag, and did not like to commit themselves byquarrelling with her. At the end of every game she used to say that shegave whatever might have been unfairly gained to those who had gained it, and hoped that others would do likewise. For she was very devout byprofession, and thought by so doing to put her conscience in safety;because, she used to add, in play there is always some mistake. She wentto church always, and constantly took the sacrament, very often afterhaving played until four o'clock in the morning. 

One day, when there was a grand fete at Fontainebleau, Madame laMarechale de Villeroy persuaded her, out of malice, to sit down and play, instead of going to evening prayers. She resisted some time, saying thatMadame de Maintenon was going; but the Marechale laughed at her forbelieving that her patron could see who was and who was not at thechapel: so down they sat to play. When the prayers were over, Madame deMaintenon, by the merest accident--for she scarcely ever visited any one--went to the apartments of the Marechale de Villeroy. The door wasflung back, and she was announced. This was a thunderbolt for thePrincesse d'Harcourt. "I am ruined, " cried she, unable to restrainherself; "she will see me playing, and I ought to have been at chapel!"Down fell the cards from her hands, and down fell she all abroad in herchair. The Marechale laughed most heartily at so complete an adventure. Madame de Maintenon entered slowly, and found the Princess in this state, with five or six persons. The Marechale de Villeroy, who was full ofwit, began to say that, whilst doing her a great honour, Madame was thecause of great disorder; and showed her the Princesse d'Harcourt in herstate of discomfiture. Madame de Maintenon smiled with majestickindness, and addressing the Princesse d'Harcourt, "Is this the way, "said she; "that you go to prayers?" Thereupon the Princess flew out ofher half-faint into a sort of fury; said that this was the kind of trickthat was played off upon her; that no doubt the Marechale knew thatMadame de Maintenon was coming, and for that reason had persecuted her toplay. "Persecuted!" exclaimed the Marechale, "I thought I could notreceive you better than by proposing a game; it is true you were for amoment troubled at missing the chapel, but your tastes carried the day. --This, Madame, is my whole crime, " continued she, addressing Madame deMaintenon. Upon this, everybody laughed louder than before: Madame deMaintenon, in order to stop the quarrel; commanded them both to continuetheir game; and they continued accordingly, the Princesse d'Harcourt, still grumbling, quite beside herself, blinded with fury, so as to commitfresh mistakes every minute. So ridiculous an adventure diverted theCourt for several days; for this beautiful Princess was equally feared, hated, and despised. 

Monseigneur le Duc and Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne continually playedoff pranks upon her. They put, one day, crackers all along the avenue ofthe chateau at Marly, that led to the Perspective where she lodged. Shewas horribly afraid of everything. The Duke and Duchess bribed twoporters to be ready to take her into the mischief. When she was right inthe middle of the avenue the crackers began to go off; and she to cryaloud for mercy; the chairman set her down and ran for it. There shewas, then, struggling in her chair, furiously enough to upset it, andyelling like a demon. At this the company, which had gathered at thedoor of the chateau to see the fun, ran to her assistance, in order tohave the pleasure of enjoying the scene more fully. Thereupon she set toabusing everybody right and left, commencing with Monseigneur and Madamela Duchesse de Bourgogne. At another time M. De Bourgogne put a crackerunder her chair in the salon, where she was playing at piquet. As he wasabout to set fire to this cracker, some charitable soul warned him thatit would maim her, and he desisted. 

Sometimes they used to send about twenty Swiss guards, with drums, intoher chamber, who roused her from her first sleep by their horrid din. Another time--and these scenes were always at Marly--they waited untilvery late for her to go to bed and sleep. She lodged not far from thepost of the captain of the guards, who was at that time the Marechal deLorges. It had snowed very hard, and had frozen. Madame la Duchesse deBourgogne and her suite gathered snow from the terrace which is on alevel with their lodgings; and, in order to be better supplied, waked up, to assist them, the Marechal's people, who did not let them want forammunition. Then, with a false key, and lights, they gently slipped intothe chamber of the Princesse d'Harcourt; and, suddenly drawing thecurtains of her bed, pelted her amain with snowballs. The filthycreature, waking up with a start, bruised and stifled in snow, with whicheven her ears were filled, with dishevelled hair, yelling at the top ofher voice, and wriggling like an eel, without knowing where to hide, formed a spectacle that diverted people more than half an hour: so thatat last the nymph swam in her bed, from which the water flowedeverywhere, slushing all the chamber. It was enough to make one die oflaughter. On the morrow she sulked, and was more than ever laughed atfor her pains. 

Her fits of sulkiness came over her either when the tricks played weretoo violent, or when M. Le Grand abused her. He thought, very properly, that a person who bore the name of Lorraine should not put herself somuch on the footing of a buffoon; and, as he was a rough speaker, hesometimes said the most abominable things to her at table; upon which thePrincess would burst out crying, and then, being enraged, would sulk. The Duchesse de Bourgogne used then to pretend to sulk, too; but theother did not hold out long, and came crawling back to her, crying, begging pardon for having sulked, and praying that she might not cease tobe a source of amusement! After some time the Duchess would allowherself to be melted, and the Princess was more villainously treated thanever, for the Duchesse de Bourgogne had her own way in everything. Neither the King nor Madame de Maintenon found fault with what she did, so that the Princesse d'Harcourt had no resource; she did not even dareto complain of those who aided in tormenting her; yet it would not havebeen prudent in any one to make her an enemy. 

The Princesse d'Harcourt paid her servants so badly that they concocted aplan, and one fine day drew up on the Pont Neuf. The coachman andfootmen got down, and came and spoke to her at the door, in language shewas not used to hear. Her ladies and chambermaid got down, and wentaway, leaving her to shift as she might. Upon this she set herself toharangue the blackguards who collected, and was only too happy to find aman, who mounted upon the seat and drove her home. Another time, Madamede Saint-Simon, returning from Versailles, overtook her, walking in fulldress in the street, and with her train under her arms. Madame de Saint-Simon stopped, offered her assistance, and found that she had been leftby her servants, as on the Pont Neuf. It was volume the second of thatstory; and even when she came back she found her house deserted, everyone having gone away at once by agreement. She was very violent with herservants, beat them, and changed diem every day. 

Upon one occasion, she took into her service a strong and robustchambermaid, to whom, from the first day of her arrival, she gave manyslaps and boxes on the ear. The chambermaid said nothing, but aftersubmitting to this treatment for five or six days, conferred with theother servants; and one morning, while in her mistress's room, locked thedoor without being perceived, said something to bring down punishmentupon her, and at the first box on the ear she received, flew upon thePrincesse d'Harcourt, gave her no end of thumps and slaps, knocked herdown, kicked her, mauled her from her head to her feet, and when she wastired of this exercise, left her on the ground, all torn and dishevelled, howling like a devil. The chambermaid then quitted the room, double-locked the door on the outside, gained the staircase, and fled the house. 

Every day the Princess was fighting, or mixed up in some adventures. Her neighbours at Marly said they could not sleep for the riot she madeat night; and I remember that, after one of these scenes, everybody wentto see the room of the Duchesse de Villeroy and that of Madame d'Espinoy, who had put their bed in the middle of their room, and who related theirnight vigils to every one. 

Such was this favourite of Madame de Maintenon; so insolent and soinsupportable to every one, but who had favours and preferences for thosewho brought her over, and who had raised so many young men, amassed theirwealth, and made herself feared even by the Prince and minister. 

CHAPTER XXVII

In a previous page I have alluded to the Princesse des Ursins, when shewas appointed 'Camerera Mayor' to the Queen of Spain on her marriage. As I have now to occupy myself more particularly with her, it may be aswell to give a description of this extraordinary woman, which I omittedwhen I first spoke of her. 

Anne Marie de la Tremoille, was daughter of M. De Noirmoutiers, whofigured sufficiently in the troubles of the minority to be made a 'Duc abrevet'. She first married M. Talleyrand, who called himself Prince deChalais, and who was obliged to quit the kingdom for engaging in thefamous duel against Messieurs de la Frette. She followed her husband toSpain, where he died. Having gone to Rome, she got into favour with theCardinals de Bouillon and d'Estrees, first on account of her name andnation, and afterwards for more tender reasons. In order to detain herat Rome, these dignitaries thought of obtaining her an establishment. She had no children, and almost no fortune, they wrote to Court that soimportant a man as the Duc de Bracciano, Prince des Ursins, was worthgaining; and that the way to arrive at this result was to have himmarried to Madame de Chalais. The Duke was persuaded by the twoCardinals that he was in love with Madame de Chalais: and so the affairwas arranged. Madame des Ursins displayed all her wit and charms atRome; and soon her palace became a sort of court, where all the bestcompany assembled. It grew to be the fashion to go there. 

The husband amidst all this counts for not much. There was sometimes alittle disagreement between the two, without open rupture; yet they werenow and then glad to separate. This is why the Duchesse de Braccianomade two journeys to France: the second time she spent four or five yearsthere. It was then I knew her, or rather formed a particular friendshipwith her. My mother had made her acquaintance during her previous visit. She lodged near us. Her wit, her grace, her manners enchanted me: shereceived me with tenderness and I was always at her house. It was shewho proposed to me a marriage with Mlle. De Royan, which I rejected forthe reason already given. 

When Madame des Ursins was appointed 'Camerera Mayor', she was a widow, without children. No one could have been better suited for the post. A lady of our court would not have done: a Spanish lady was not to bedepended on, and might have easily disgusted the Queen. The Princessedes Ursins appeared to be a middle term. She was French, had been inSpain, and she passed a great part of her life at Rome, and in Italy. She was of the house of La Tremoille: her husband was chief of the houseof Ursins, a grandee of Spain, and Prince of the Soglio. She was also onvery good terms with the Duchess of Savoy, and with the Queen ofPortugal. The Cardinal d'Estrees, also, was known to have remained herfriend, after having been something more in their youth; and he gaveinformation that the Cardinal Portocarrero had been much in love with herat Rome, and that they were then on very good terms. As it was throughthe latter Cardinal that it was necessary to govern everything, thiscircumstance was considered very important. 

Age and health were also appropriate; and likewise her appearance. Shewas rather tall than otherwise, a brunette, with blue eyes of the mostvaried expression, in figure perfect, with a most exquisite bosom; herface, without being beautiful, was charming; she was extremely noble inair, very majestic in demeanour, full of graces so natural and socontinual in everything, that I have never seen any one approach her, either in form or mind. Her wit was copious and of all kinds: she wasflattering, caressing, insinuating, moderate, wishing to please forpleasing's sake, with charms irresistible when she strove to persuade andwin over; accompanying all this, she had a grandeur that encouragedinstead of frightening; a delicious conversation, inexhaustible and veryamusing, for she had seen many countries and persons; a voice and way ofspeaking extremely agreeable, and full of sweetness. She had read much, and reflected much. She knew how to choose the best society, how toreceive them, and could even have held a court; was polite, distinguished; and above all was careful never to take a step in advancewithout dignity and discretion. She was eminently fitted for intrigue, in which, from taste; she had passed her time at Rome; with muchambition, but of that vast kind, far above her sex, and the common run ofmen--a desire to occupy a great position and to govern. A love forgallantry and personal vanity were her foibles, and these clung to heruntil her latest day; consequently, she dressed in a way that no longerbecame her, and as she advanced in life, removed further from proprietyin this particular. She was an ardent and excellent friend--of afriendship that time and absence never enfeebled; and, consequently, animplacable enemy, pursuing her hatred to the infernal regions. Whilecaring little for the means by which she gained her ends, she tried asmuch as possible to reach them by honest means. Secret, not only forherself, but for her friends, she was yet, of a decorous gaiety, and sogoverned her humours, that at all times and in everything she wasmistress of herself. Such was the Princesse des Ursins. 

From the first moment on which she entered the service of the Queen ofSpain, it became her desire to govern not only the Queen, but the King;and by this means the realm itself. Such a grand project had need ofsupport from our King, who, at the commencement, ruled the Court of Spainas much as his own Court, with entire influence over all matters. 

The young Queen of Spain had been not less carefully educated than hersister, the Duchesse de Bourgogne. She had even when so young muchintelligence and firmness, without being incapable of restraint; and astime went on, improved still further, and displayed a constancy andcourage which were admirably set off by her meekness and natural graces. According to everything I have heard said in France and in Spain, shepossessed all qualities that were necessary to make her adored. Indeedshe became a divinity among the Spaniards, and to their affection forher, Philip V. Was more than once indebted for his crown. Lords, ladies, soldiers, and the people still remember her with tears in their eyes; andeven after the lapse of so many years, are not yet consoled for her loss. 

Madame des Ursins soon managed to obtain the entire confidence of thisQueen; and during the absence of Philip V. In Italy, assisted her in theadministration of all public offices. She even accompanied her to thejunta, it not being thought proper that the Queen should be alone amidsuch an assemblage of men. In this way she became acquainted witheverything that was passing, and knew all the affairs of the Government. 

This step gained, it will be imagined that the Princesse des Ursins didnot forget to pay her court most assiduously to our King and to Madame deMaintenon. She continually sent them an exact account of everythingrelating to the Queen--making her appear in the most favourable lightpossible. Little by little she introduced into her letters detailsrespecting public events; without, however, conveying a suspicion of herown ambition, or that she wished to meddle in these matters. Anchored inthis way, she next began to flatter Madame de Maintenon, and by degreesto hint that she might rule over Spain, even more firmly than she ruledover France, if she would entrust her commands to Madame des Ursins. Madame des Ursins offered, in fact, to be the instrument of Madame deMaintenon; representing how much better it would be to rule affairs inthis manner, than through the instrumentality of the ministers of eithercountry. 

Madame de Maintenon, whose passion it was to know everything, to mixherself in everything, and to govern everything, was, enchanted by thesiren. This method of governing Spain without ministers appeared to heran admirable idea. She embraced it with avidity, without reflecting thatshe would govern only in appearance, since she would know nothing exceptthrough the Princesse des Ursins, see nothing except in the light inwhich she presented it. From that time dates the intimate union whichexisted between these two important women, the unbounded authority ofMadame des Ursins, the fall of all those who had placed Philip V. Uponthe throne, and of all our ministers in Spain who stood in the way of thenew power. 

Such an alliance being made between the two women, it was necessary todraw the King of Spain into the same net. This was not a very arduoustask. Nature and art indeed had combined to make it easy. 

Younger brother of an excitable, violent, and robust Prince, Philip V, had been bred up in a submission and dependence that were necessary forthe repose of the Royal family. Until the testament of Charles II. , theDuc d'Anjou was necessarily regarded as destined to be a subject all hislife; and therefore could not be too much abased by education, andtrained to patience and obedience: That supreme law, the reason of state, demanded this preference, for the safety and happiness of the kingdom, of the elder over the younger brother. His mind for this reason waspurposely narrowed and beaten down, and his natural docility andgentleness greatly assisted in the process, He was quite formed to beled, although he had enough judgment left to choose the better of twocourses proposed to him, and even to express himself in good phrase, whenthe slowness, not to say the laziness, of his mind did not prevent himfrom speaking at all. His great piety contributed to weaken his mind;and, being joined to very lively passions, made it disagreeable and evendangerous for him to be separated from his Queen. It may easily beconceived, therefore, how he loved her; and that he allowed himself to beguided by her in all things. As the Queen herself was guided in allthings by Madame des Ursins, the influence of this latter was all-powerful. 

Soon, indeed, the junta became a mere show. Everything was broughtbefore the King in private, and he gave no decision until the Queen andMadame des Ursins had passed theirs. This conduct met with no oppositionfrom our Court, but our ministers at the Court of Spain and the Spanishministers here soon began to complain of it. The first to do so wereCardinals d'Estrees and Portocarrero. Madame de Maintenon laughed atthem, and Madame des Ursins, of whom they were old friends, soon showedthem that she did not mean to abate one jot of her power. She firstendeavoured to bring about a coldness between the two, and this succeededso well, that in consequence of the quarrels that resulted, the SpanishCardinal, Portocarrero (who, it will be remembered, had played animportant part in bringing Philip to the Spanish throne) wished to quitthe junta. But Madame des Ursins, who thought that the time had not yetarrived for this step, persuaded him to remain, and endeavoured toflatter his vanity by an expedient altogether ridiculous. She gave himthe command of a regiment of guards, and he, priest, archbishop, primateand cardinal, accepted it, and was, of course, well laughed at byeverybody for his pains. The two cardinals soon after became reconciledto each other, feeling, perhaps, the necessity of uniting against thecommon enemy. But they could come to no better understanding with her. Disagreements continued, so that at last, feeling her position perfectlysecure, the Princesse des Ursins begged permission to retire into Italy, knowing full well that she would not be taken at her word, and hoping bythis means to deliver herself of these stumbling-blocks in her path. 

Our ministers, who felt they would lose all control over Spanish affairsif Madame des Ursins was allowed to remain mistress, did all in theirpower to support the D'Estrees. But Madame de Maintenon pleaded so wellwith the King, representing the good policy of allowing a woman so muchattached to him, and to the Spanish Queen, as was Madame des Ursins, toremain where she was, that he entirely swallowed the bait; the D'Estreeswere left without support; the French ambassador at Madrid was virtuallydeprived of all power: the Spanish ministers were fettered in their everymovement, and the authority of Madame des Ursins became stronger thanever. All public affairs passed through her hands. The King decidednothing without conferring with the Queen and her. 

While excluding almost all the ministers from public offices, Madame desUrsins admitted a few favourites into her confidence. Amongst them wasD'Harcourt, who stood well with Madame de Maintenon, and who cared littlefor the means by which he obtained consideration; Orry, who had themanagement of the finances; and D'Aubigny, son of a Procureur in Paris. The last was a tall, handsome fellow, well made, and active in mind andbody; who for many years had been with the Princess, as a sort of squire, and on very intimate terms with her. One day, when, followed by some ofthe ministers, she entered a room in which he was writing, he burst outinto exclamations against her, without being aware that she was notalone, swore at her, asked her why she could not leave him an hour inpeace, called her by the strangest names, and all this with so muchimpetuosity that she had no time to show him who were behind her. Whenhe found it out, he ran from the room, leaving Madame des Ursins soconfused that the ministers looked for two or three minutes upon thewalls of the room in order to give her time to recover herself. Soonafter this, D'Aubigny had a splendid suite of apartments, that hadformerly been occupied by Maria Theresa (afterwards wife of Louis XIV. ), placed at his disposal, with some rooms added, in despite of the murmursthat arose at a distinction so strange accorded to this favourite. 

At length, Cardinal d'Estrees, continually in arms against Madame desUrsins, and continually defeated, could not bear his position any longer, but asked to be immediately recalled. All that the ministry could do wasto obtain permission for the Abbe d'Estrees (nephew of the Cardinal) toremain as Ambassador of France at Madrid. As for Portocarrero, seeingthe step his associate had taken, he resolved to quit public businessalso, and resigned his place accordingly. Several others who stood inthe way of the Princesse des Ursins were got rid of at the same time, sothat she was now left mistress of the field. She governed absolutely inall things; the ministers became instruments in her hands; the King andQueen agents to work out her will. She was at the highest pinnacle ofpower. Together with Orry she enjoyed a power such as no one had everattained since the time of the Duke of Lerma and of Olivares. 

In the mean time the Archduke was declared King of Spain by the Emperor, who made no mystery of his intention of attacking Spain by way ofPortugal. The Archduke soon afterwards was recognised by Holland, England, Portugal, Brandenburg, Savoy, and Hanover, as King of Spain, under the title of Charles III. , and soon after by the other powers ofEurope. The Duke of Savoy had been treacherous to us, had shown that hewas in league with the Emperor. The King accordingly had broken off allrelations with him, and sent an army to invade his territory. It need beno cause of surprise, therefore, that the Archduke was recognised bySavoy. While our armies were fighting with varied fortune those of theEmperor and his allies, in different parts of Europe, notably upon theRhine, Madame des Ursins was pressing matters to extremities in Spain. Dazzled by her success in expelling the two cardinals from publicaffairs, and all the ministers who had assisted in placing Philip V. Upon the throne, she committed a blunder of which she soon had cause torepent. 

I have said, that when Cardinal d'Estrees quitted Spain, the Abbed'Estrees was left behind, so that France should not be altogetherunrepresented in an official manner at the Court of Madrid. Madame desUrsins did not like this arrangement, but as Madame de Maintenon insistedupon it, she was obliged to accept it with as good grace as possible. The Abbe, vain of his family and of his position, was not a man much tobe feared as it seemed. Madame des Ursins accordingly laughed at anddespised him. He was admitted to the council, but was quite withoutinfluence there, and when he attempted to make any representations toMadame des Ursins or to Orry, they listened to him without attending inthe least to what he said. The Princess reigned supreme, and thought ofnothing but getting rid of all who attempted to divide her authority. At last she obtained such a command over the poor Abbe d'Estrees, soteased and hampered him, that he consented to the hitherto unheard-ofarrangement, that the Ambassador of France should not write to the Kingwithout first concerting his letter with her, and then show her itscontents before he despatched it. But such restraint as this became, ina short time, so fettering, that the Abbe determined to break away fromit. He wrote a letter to the King, without showing it to Madame desUrsins. She soon had scent of what he had done; seized the letter as itpassed through the post, opened it, and, as she expected, found itscontents were not of a kind to give her much satisfaction. But whatpiqued her most was, to find details exaggerating the authority ofD'Aubigny, and a statement to the effect that it was generally believedshe had married him. Beside herself with rage and vexation, she wrotewith her own hand upon the margin of the letter, 'Pour mariee non'("At any rate, not married"), showed it in this state to the King andQueen of Spain, to a number of other people, always with strangeclamouring, and finally crowned her folly by sending it to the King(Louis XIV. ), with furious complaints against the Abbe for writing itwithout her knowledge, and for inflicting upon her such an atrociousinjury as to mention this pretended marriage. Her letter and itsenclosure reached the King at a very inopportune moment. Just before, he had received a letter, which, taken in connection with this of thePrincesse des Ursins, struck a blow at her power of the most decisivekind. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

Some little time previously it had been thought necessary to send an armyto the frontiers of Portugal to oppose the Archduke. A French generalwas wanted to command this army. Madame des Ursins, who had been veryintimate with the King of England (James II. ) and his Queen, thought shewould please them if she gave this post to the Duke of Berwick, illegitimate son of King James. She proposed this therefore; and ourKing, out of regard for his brother monarch, and from a natural affectionfor bastards, consented to the appointment; but as the Duke of Berwickhad never before commanded an army, he stipulated that Pursegur, known tobe a skilful officer, should go with him and assist him with his counselsand advice. 

Pursegur set out before the Duke of Berwick. From the Pyrenees as far asMadrid, he found every provision made for the subsistence of the Frenchtroops, and sent a very advantageous account to the King of thiscircumstance. Arrived at Madrid, he had interviews with Orry (who, as Ihave already mentioned, had the finances under his control, and who was amere instrument in the hands of Madame des Ursins), and was assured bythe minister that all the magazines along the line of route to thefrontiers of Portugal were abundantly filled with supplies for the Frenchtroops, that all the money necessary was ready; and that nothing, infact, should fail in the course of the campaign. Pursegur, who had foundnothing wanting up to that time, never doubted but that these statementswere perfectly correct; and had no suspicion that a minister would havethe effrontery to show him in detail all these precautions if he hadtaken none. Pleased, then, to the utmost degree, he wrote to the King inpraise of Orry, and consequently of Madame des Ursins and her wisegovernment. Full of these ideas, he set out for the frontier of Portugalto reconnoitre the ground himself, and arrange everything for the arrivalof the army and its general. What was his surprise, when he found thatfrom Madrid to the frontier not a single preparation had been made forthe troops, and that in consequence all that Orry had shown him, drawnout upon paper, was utterly fictitious. His vexation upon finding thatnothing upon which he had reckoned was provided, may be imagined. He atonce wrote to the King, in order to contradict all that he had recentlywritten. 

This conduct of Orry--his impudence, I may say--in deceiving a man whoimmediately after would have under his eyes the proof of his deceit, is athing past all comprehension. It is easy to understand that roguesshould steal, but not that they should have the audacity to do so in theface of facts which so quickly and so easily could prove their villainy. 

It was Pursegur's letter then, detailing this rascality on the part ofOrry, that had reached the King just before that respecting the Abbed'Estrees. The two disclosed a state of things that could not be allowedany longer to exist. Our ministers, who, step by step, had been deprivedof all control over the affairs of Spain, profited by the discontentmentof the King to reclaim their functions. Harcourt and Madame de Maintenondid all they could to ward off the blow from Madame des Ursins, butwithout effect. The King determined to banish her to Rome and to dismissOrry from his post. 

It was felt, however, that these steps must be taken cautiously, to avoidoffending too deeply the King and Queen of Spain, who supported theirfavourite through every emergency. 

In the first place, then, a simple reprimand was sent to the Princessedes Ursins for the violation of the respect due to the King, by opening aletter addressed to him by one of his ambassadors. The Abbe d'Estrees, who expected that Madame des Ursins would be at once disgraced, and whohad made a great outcry when his letter was opened, fell into suchdespair when he saw how lightly she was let off, that he asked for hisdismissal. He was taken at his word; and this was a new triumph forMadame des Ursins, who thought herself more secure than ever. Hertriumph was of but short duration. The King wrote to Philip, recommending him to head in person the army for the frontiers ofPortugal, which, in spite of Orry's deception, it was still determined tosend. No sooner was Philip fairly away, separated from the Queen andMadame des Ursins, and no longer under their influence, than the Kingwrote to the Queen of Spain, requesting her, in terms that could not bedisputed, to dismiss at once and for ever her favourite 'Camerera Mayor'. The Queen, in despair at the idea of losing a friend and adviser to whomshe had been so much attached, believed herself lost. At the same timethat the King wrote to the Queen of Spain, he also wrote to the Princessedes Ursins, ordering her to quit Madrid immediately, to leave Spain, andto retire into Italy. 

At this conjuncture of affairs, when the Queen was in despair, Madame desUrsins did not lose her composure. She opened her eyes to all that hadpassed since she had violated D'Estrees' letter, and saw the vanity ofthe triumph she had recently enjoyed. She felt at once that for thepresent all was lost, that her only hope was to be allowed to remain inFrance. She made all her arrangements, therefore, so that affairs mightproceed in her absence as much as possible as though she were present, and then prepared to set out. Dawdling day by day, she put off herdeparture as long as could be, and when at length she left Madrid onlywent to Alcala, a few leagues distant. She stopped there under variouspretexts, and at length, after five weeks of delay, set out for Bayonne, journeying as slowly as she could and stopping as often as she dared. 

She lost no opportunity of demanding an audience at Versailles, in orderto clear herself of the charge which weighed upon her, and herimportunities at length were not without effect. The most terriblestorms at Court soon blow over. The King (Louis XIV. ) was satisfied withthe success of his plans. He had been revenged in every way, and hadhumbled the pride of the Princesse des Ursins. It was not necessary toexcite the anger of the Queen and King of Spain by too great harshnessagainst their fallen friend. Madame de Maintenon took advantage of thischange in the temper of the King, and by dint of persuasion and schemingsucceeded in obtaining from him the permission for Madame des Ursins toremain in France. Toulouse was fixed upon for her residence. It was aplace that just suited her, and from which communication with Spain waseasy. Here accordingly she took up her residence, determined to watchwell the course of events, and to avail herself of every opportunity thatcould bring about her complete reconciliation with the King (Louis XIV. ), and obtain for her in consequence the permission to return to Madrid. 

In the mean time, the King and Queen of Spain, distressed beyond measureat the loss of their favourite, thought only of the best means ofobtaining her recall. They plotted with such ministers as werefavourable to her; they openly quarrelled with and thwarted those whowere her opponents, so that the most important matters perished in theirhands. Nay more, upon the King of Spain's return, the Queen persuadedhim to oppose in all things the wishes of the King (Louis XIV. ), hisgrandfather, and to neglect his counsels with studied care. Our Kingcomplained of this with bitterness. The aim of it was to tire him out, and to make him understand that it was only Madame des Ursins, welltreated and sent back, who could restore Spanish affairs to theiroriginal state, and cause his authority to be respected. Madame deMaintenon, on her side, neglected no opportunity of pressing the King toallow Madame des Ursins, not to return into Spain--that would have beento spoil all by asking too much but simply to come to Versailles in orderto have the opportunity of justifying herself for her past conduct. Fromother quarters the King was similarly importuned. Tired at last of theobstinate opposition he met with in Spain from the Queen; who governedcompletely her husband, he gave permission to Madame des Ursins to cometo Versailles to plead her own cause. Self-imprisoned as he was inseclusion, the truth never approached him, and he was the only man in thetwo kingdoms who had no suspicion that the arrival of Madame ales Ursinsat the Court was the certain sign of her speedy return to Spain morepowerful than ever. But he was fatigued with the constant resistance hemet with; with the disorder which this occasioned in public affairs at atime too when, as I will afterwards explain, the closest union wasnecessary between the two crowns in order to repel the common enemy, andthese motives induced him, to the astonishment of his ministers, to grantthe favour requested of him. 

However well informed Madame des Ursins might be of all that was beingdone on her account, this permission surpassed her hopes. Her joyaccordingly was very great; but it did not at all carry her away. Shesaw that her return to Spain would now depend upon herself. Shedetermined to put on the air of one who is disgraced, but who hopes, andyet is humiliated. She instructed all her friends to assume the samemanner; took all measures with infinite presence of mind; did not hurryher departure, and yet set out with sufficient promptness to prevent anycoldness springing up, and to show with what eagerness she profited bythe favour accorded to her, and which she had so much wished. 

No sooner was the courier gone who carried this news to her, than therumour of her return was whispered all over the Court, and becamepublicly confirmed a few days afterwards. The movement that it producedat Court was inconceivable. Only the friends of Madame des Ursins wereable to remain in a tolerably tranquil state. Everybody opened his eyesand comprehended that the return of such an important personage was afact that could not be insignificant. People prepared themselves for asort of rising sun that was going to change and renew many things innature. On every side were seen people who had scarcely ever uttered hername, and who now boasted of their intimacy with her and of herfriendship for them. Other people were seen, who, although openly alliedwith her enemies, had the baseness to affect transports of joy at herforthcoming return, and to flatter those whom they thought likely tofavour them with her. 

She reached Paris on Sunday, the 4th of January, 1705. The Duc d'Albemet her several miles out of the city, escorted her to his house, andgave a fete in her honour there. Several persons of distinction went outto meet her. Madame des Ursins had reason to be surprised at an entry sotriumphant: she would not, however, stay with the Duc and Duchessed'Albe, but took up her quarters with the Comtesse d'Egmont, niece of theArchbishop of Aix; the said Archbishop having been instrumental inobtaining her recall. The King was at Marly. I was there with Madame deSaint-Simon. During the remainder of the stay at Marly everybody flockedto the house of Madame des Ursins, anxious to pay her their court. However flattered she may have been by this concourse, she had matters tooccupy her, pleaded want of repose, and shut her door to three people outof four who called upon her. Curiosity, perhaps fashion, drew this greatcrowd to her. The ministers were startled by it. Torcy had orders fromthe King to go, and see her: he did so; and from that moment Madame desUrsins changed her tone. Until then her manner had been modest, supplicating, nearly timid. She now saw and heard so much that fromdefendant, which she had intended to be, she thought herself in acondition to become accuser; and to demand justice of those who, abusingthe confidence of the King, had drawn upon her such a long and cruelpunishment, and made her a show for the two kingdoms. All that happenedto her surpassed her hopes. Several times when with me she has expressedher astonishment; and with me has laughed at many people, often of muchconsideration, whom she scarcely knew, or who had been strongly opposedto her, and who basely crouched at her feet. 

The King returned to Versailles on Saturday, the 10th of January. Madamedes Ursins arrived there the same day. I went immediately to see her, not having been able to do so before, because I could not quit Marly. Mymother had seen a great deal of Madame des Ursins at Paris. I had alwaysbeen on good terms with her, and had received on all occasions proofs ofher friendship. She received me very well, spoke with much freedom, andsaid she promised herself the pleasure of seeing me again, and of talkingwith me more at her ease. On, the morrow, Sunday, she dined at homealone, dressed herself in grand style, and went to the King, with whomshe remained alone two hours and a half conversing in his cabinet. Fromthere she went to the Duchesse de Bourgogne, with whom she also converseda long time alone. In the evening, the King said, while in Madame deMaintenon's apartments, that there were still many things upon which hehad not yet spoken to Madame des Ursins. The next day she saw Madame deMaintenon in private for a long time, and much at her ease. She had aninterview soon after with the King and Madame de Maintenon, which wasalso very long. 

A month after this a special courier arrived from the King and Queen ofSpain, to thank the King (Louis XIV. ) for his conduct towards thePrincesse des Ursins. From that moment it was announced that she wouldremain at Court until the month of April, in order to attend to heraffairs and her health. It was already to have made a grand step to bemistress enough to announce thus her stay. Nobody in truth doubted ofher return to Spain, but the word was not yet said. She avoided allexplanations, and it may be believed did not have many indiscreetquestions put to her upon the subject. 

So many and such long audiences with the King, followed by so muchserenity, had a great effect upon the world, and the crowd that flockedto see Madame des Ursins was greater than ever; but under variouspretences she shut herself up and would see only a few intimate friends, foremost among which were Madame de Saint-Simon and myself. Whilsttriumphant beyond all her hopes in Paris, she was at work in Spain, andwith equal success. Rivas, who had drawn up the will of the late KingCharles II. , was disgraced, and never afterwards rose to favour. The Ducde Grammont, our ambassador at Madrid, was so overwhelmed with annoyance, that he asked for his recall. Amelot, whom Madame des Ursins favoured, was appointed in his place, and many who had been disgraced werereinstated in office; everything was ordered according to her wishes. 

We returned to Marly, where many balls took place. It need not bedoubted that Madame des Ursins was among the invited. Apartments weregiven her, and nothing could equal the triumphant air with which she tookpossession of them, the continual attentions of the King to her, asthough she were some little foreign queen just arrived at his Court, orthe majestic fashion in which she received them, mingled with grace andrespectful politeness, then almost out of date, and which recalled thestately old dames of the Queen-mother. She never came without the King, who appeared to be completely occupied with her, talking with her, pointing out objects for her inspection, seeking her opinion and herapprobation with an air of gallantry, even of flattery, which neverceased. The frequent private conversations that she had with him in theapartment of Madame de Maintenon, and which lasted an hour, and sometimesdouble that time; those that she very often had in the morning alone withMadame de Maintenon, rendered her the divinity of the Court. ThePrincesses encircled her the moment she appeared anywhere, and went tosee her in her chamber. Nothing was more surprising than the servileeagerness with which the greatest people, the highest in power and themost in favour, clustered around her. Her very glances were counted, andher words, addressed even to ladies of the highest rank, imprinted uponthem a look of ravishment. 

I went nearly every morning to her house: she always rose very early, dressed herself at once, so that she was never seen at her toilette. I was in advance of the hour fixed for the most important visitors, andwe talked with the same liberty as of yore. I learnt from her manydetails, and the opinion of the King and of Madame de Maintenon upon manypeople. We often used to laugh in concert at the truckling to her ofpersons the most considerable, and of the disdain they drew uponthemselves, although she did not testify it to them. We laughed too atthe falsehood of others, who after having done her all the injury intheir power ever since her arrival, lavished upon her all kinds offlatteries, and boasted of their affection for her and of zeal in hercause. I was flattered with this confidence of the dictatress of theCourt. It drew upon me a sudden consideration; for people of thegreatest distinction often found me alone with her in the morning, andthe messengers who rained down at that time reported that they had foundme with her, and that they had not been able to speak to her. Oftentimesin the salon she called me to her, or at other times I went to her andwhispered a word in her ear, with an air of ease and liberty much enviedbut little imitated. She never met Madame de Saint-Simon without goingto her, praising her, making her join in the conversation that waspassing around; oftentimes leading her to the glass and adjusting herhead-dress or her robe as she might have done in private to a daughter. People asked with surprise and much annoyance whence came such a greatfriendship which had never been suspected by anybody? What completed thetorment of the majority, was to see Madame des Ursins, as soon as shequitted the chamber of Madame de Maintenon, go immediately to Madame deSaint-Simon, lead her aside, and speak to her in a low tone. This openedthe eyes of everybody and drew upon us many civilities. 

A more solid gratification to us were the kind things Madame des Ursinssaid in our behalf to the King and Madame de Maintenon. She spoke in thehighest praise of Madame de Saint-Simon, and declared that there was nowoman at Court so fitting as she, so expressly made by her virtue, goodconduct, and ability, to be lady of the Palace, or even lady-of-honour toMadame la Duchesse de Bourgogne, should the post become vacant. Madamedes Ursins did not forget me; but a woman was more susceptible of herpraise. It made, therefore, all the more impression. This kind mannertowards us did not change during all her stay at Court. 

At all the balls which Madame des Ursins attended, she was treated withmuch distinction, and at one she obtained permission for the Duc andDuchesse d'Albe to be present, but with some little trouble. I say withsome little trouble, because no ambassador, no foreigner, had ever, with one exception, been admitted to Marly. It was a great favour, therefore, for Madame des Ursins to obtain. The King, too, treated theDuc and Duchesse d'Albe, throughout the evening with marked respect, andplaced the latter in the most distinguished position, not only in theball-room but at supper. When he went to bed, too, he gave the Ducd'Albe his candlestick; an honour the importance of which I have alreadydescribed. 

At the other balls Madame des Ursins seated herself near the GrandChamberlain, and looked at everybody with her lorgnette. At every momentthe King turned round to speak to her and Madame de Maintenon, who camefor half an hour or so to these balls, and on her account displaced theGrand Chamberlain, who put himself behind her. In this manner she joinedMadame des Ursins, and was close to the King--the conversation betweenthe three being continual. What appeared extremely singular was to seeMadame des Ursins in the salon with a little spaniel in her arms, asthough she had been in her own house. People could not sufficientlyexpress their astonishment at a familiarity which even Madame la Duchessede Bourgogne would not have dared to venture; still less could they do sowhen they saw the King caress this little dog over and over again. Infine, such a high flight has never been seen. People could not accustomthemselves to it, and those who knew the King and his Court are surprisedstill, when they think of it, after so many years. There was no longerany doubt that Madame des Ursins would return into Spain. All herfrequent private conversations with the King and Madame de Maintenon wereupon that country. I will only add here that her return took place indue time; and that her influence became more paramount than ever. 

CHAPTER XXIX

In relating what happened to Madame des Ursins upon her return to Spain, I have carried the narrative into the year 1705. It is not necessary toretrace our steps. Towards the end of 1703 Courtin died. He had earlyshone at the Council, and had been made Intendant of Picardy. M. De Chaulnes, whose estates were there, begged him to tax them aslightly as possible. Courtin, who was a very intimate friend of M. DeChaulnes, complied with his request; but the next year, in going over hisaccounts, he found that to do a good turn to M. De Chaulnes he had donean ill turn to many others--that is to say, he had relieved M. DeChaulnes at the expense of other parishes, which he had overcharged. The trouble this caused him made him search deeply into the matter, andhe found that the wrong he had done amounted to forty thousand francs. Without a second thought he paid back this money, and asked to berecalled. As he was much esteemed, his request was not at once compliedwith, but he represented so well that he could not pass his life doingwrong, and unable to serve his friends, that at last what he asked wasgranted. He afterwards had several embassies, went to England asambassador, and was very successful in that capacity. I cannot quitCourtin without relating an adventure he had one day with Fieubet, aCouncillor of State like himself. As they were going to Saint Germainthey were stopped by several men and robbed; robbery was common in thosedays, and Fieubet lost all he had in his pockets. When the thieves hadleft them, and while Fieubet was complaining of his misfortune, Courtinbegan to applaud himself for having saved his watch and fifty pistolesthat he had time to slip into his trowsers. Immediately on hearing this, Fieubet put his head out of the coach window, and called back thethieves, who came sure enough to see what he wanted. 

"Gentlemen, " said he, "you appear to be honest folks in distress; it isnot reasonable that you should be the dupes of this gentleman, who hisswindled you out of fifty pistoles and his watch. " And then turning toCourtin, he smilingly said: "You told me so yourself, monsieur; so givethe things up like a man, without being searched. "

The astonishment and indignation of Courtin were such that he allowedmoney and watch to be taken from him without uttering a single word; butwhen the thieves were gone away, he would have strangled Fieubet had notthis latter been the stronger of the two. Fieubet only laughed at him;and upon arriving at Saint Germain told the adventure to everybody hemet. Their friends had all the trouble in the world to reconcile them. 

The year finished with an affair in which I was not a little interested. During the year there were several grand fetes, at which the King went toHigh Mass and vespers. On these occasions a lady of the Court, named bythe Queen, or when there was none, by the Dauphiness, made a collectionfor the poor. The house of Lorraine, always anxious to increase itsimportance, shirked impudently this duty, in order thereby to give itselfa new distinction, and assimilate its rank to that of the Princes of theblood. It was a long time before this was perceived. At last theDuchesse de Noailles, the Duchesse de Guiche, her daughter, the Marechalde Boufflers, and others, took notice of it; and I was soon afterinformed of it. I determined that the matter should be arranged, andthat justice should be done. 

The Duchesse de Lude was first spoken to on the subject; she, weak andtimid, did not dare to do anything; but at last was induced to speak toMadame la Duchesse de Bourgogne, who, wishing to judge for herself as tothe truth of the matter, ordered Madame de Montbazon to make thecollection for the poor at the next fete that took place. Although verywell, Madame de Montbazon pretended to be ill, stopped in bed half a day, and excused herself on this ground from performing the duty. Madame deBourgogne was annoyed, but she did not dare to push matters farther; and, in consequence of this refusal, none of the Duchesses would make thecollection. Other ladies of quality soon perceived this, and they alsorefused to serve; so that the collection fell into all sorts of hands, and sometimes was not made at all. Matters went on so far, indeed, thatthe King at last grew angry, and threatened to make Madame de Bourgogneherself take this office. But refusals still followed upon refusals, andthe bomb thus at length was ready to burst. 

The King, who at last ordered the daughter of M. Le Grand to take theplate on New Year's Day, 1704. , had, it seems, got scent of the part Iwas taking in this matter, and expressed himself to Madame de Maintenon, as I learnt, as very discontented with me and one or two other Dukes. He said that the Dukes were much less obedient to him than the Princes;and that although many Duchesses had refused to make the collection, themoment he had proposed that the daughter of M. Le Grand should take it, M. Le Grand consented. On the next day, early in the morning, I sawChamillart, who related to me that on the previous evening, before he hadhad time to open his business, the King had burst out in anger againstme, saying it was very strange, but that since I had quitted the army Idid nothing but meddle in matters of rank and bring actions againsteverybody; finishing, by declaring that if he acted well he should sendme so far away that I should be unable to importune him any more. Chamillart added, that he had done all in his power to appease the King, but with little effect. 

After consulting with my friends, I determined to go up to the King andboldly ask to speak to him in his cabinet, believing that to be thewisest course I could pursue. He was not yet so reconciled to me as heafterwards became, and, in fact, was sorely out of humour with me. Thisstep did not seem, therefore, altogether unattended with danger; but, as I have said, I resolved to take it. As he passed, therefore, from hisdinner that same day, I asked permission to follow him into his cabinet. Without replying to me, he made a sign that I might enter, and went intothe embrasure of the window. 

When we were quite alone I explained, at considerable length, my reasonsfor acting in this matter, declaring that it was from no disrespect tohis Majesty that I had requested Madame de Saint-Simon and the otherDuchesses to refuse to collect for the poor, but simply to bring those toaccount who had claimed without reason to be exempt from this duty. I added, keeping my eyes fixed upon the King all the time, that I beggedhim to believe that none of his subjects were more submissive to his willor more willing to acknowledge the supremacy of his authority in allthings than the Dukes. Until this his tone and manner had been verysevere; but now they both softened, and he said, with much goodness andfamiliarity, that "that was how it was proper to speak and think, " andother remarks equally gracious. I took then the opportunity ofexpressing the sorrow I felt at seeing, that while my sole endeavour wasto please him, my enemies did all they could to blacken me in his eyes, indicating that I suspected M. Le Grand, who had never pardoned me forthe part I took in the affair of the Princesse d'Harcourt, was one of thenumber. After I had finished the King remained still a moment, as ifready to hear if I had anything more to say, and then quitted me with abow, slight but very gracious, saying it was well, and that he waspleased with me. 

I learnt afterwards that he said the same thing of me in the evening toChamillart, but, nevertheless, that he did not seem at all shaken in hisprejudice in favour of M. Le Grand. The King was in fact very easy toprejudice, difficult to lead back, and most unwilling to seekenlightenment, or to listen to any explanations, if authority was in theslightest degree at stake. Whoever had the address to make a questiontake this shape, might be assured that the King would throw aside allconsideration of justice, right, and reason, and dismiss all evidence. It was by playing on this chord that his ministers knew how to manage himwith so much art, and to make themselves despotic masters, causing him tobelieve all they wished, while at the same time they rendered himinaccessible to explanation, and to those who might have explained. 

I have, perhaps, too much expanded an affair which might have been morecompressed. But in addition to the fact that I was mixed up in it, it isby these little private details, as it seems to me, that the charactersof the Court and King are best made known. 

In the early part of the next year, 1704. , the King made La Queue, whowas a captain of cavalry, campmaster. This La Queue was seigneur of theplace of which he bore the name, distant six leagues from Versailles, andas much from Dreux. He had married a girl that the King had had by agardener's wife. Bontems, the confidential valet of the King, hadbrought about the marriage without declaring the names of the father orthe mother of the girl; but La Queue knew it, and promised himself afortune. The girl herself was tall and strongly resembled the King. Unfortunately for her, she knew the secret of her birth, and much enviedher three sisters--recognised, and so grandly married. She lived on verygood terms with her husband--always, however, in the greatest privacy--and had several children by him. La Queue himself, although by thismarriage son-in-law of the King, seldom appeared at the Court, and, whenthere, was on the same footing as the simplest soldier. Bontems did notfail from time to time to give him money. The wife of La Queue livedvery melancholily for twenty years in her village, never left it, andscarcely ever went abroad for fear of betraying herself. 

On Wednesday, the 25th of June, Monseigneur le Duc de Bourgogne had a sonborn to him. This event caused great joy to the King and the Court. The town shared their delight, and carried their enthusiasm almost tomadness, by the excess of their demonstration and their fetes. The Kinggave a fete at Marly, and made the most magnificent presents to Madame laDuchesse de Bourgogne when she left her bed. But we soon had reason torepent of so much joy, for the child died in less than a year--and of somuch money unwisely spent, in fetes when it was wanted for more pressingpurposes. Even while these rejoicings were being celebrated, newsreached us which spread consternation in every family, and cast a gloomover the whole city. 

I have already said that a grand alliance, with the Emperor at its head, had been formed against France, and that our troops were opposing theAllies in various parts of Europe. The Elector of Bavaria had joined hisforces to ours, and had already done us some service. On the 12th ofAugust he led his men into the plain of Hochstedt, where, during theprevious year, he had gained a victory over the Imperialists. In thisplain he was joined by our troops, who took up positions right and leftof him, under the command of Tallard and Marsin. The Elector himself hadcommand of all. Soon after their arrival at Hochstedt, they receivedintelligence that Prince Eugene, with the Imperialist forces, and theDuke of Marlborough with the English were coming to meet them. Ourgenerals had, however, all the day before them to choose their ground, and to make their dispositions. It would have been difficult to succeedworse, both with the one and the other. A brook, by no means of a mirykind, ran parallel to our army; and in front of it a spring, which formeda long and large quagmire, nearly separated the two lines of MarshalTallard. It was a strange situation for a general to take up, who ismaster of a vast plain; and it became, as will be seen, a very sad one. At his extreme right was the large village of Blenheim, in which, by ablindness without example, he had placed twenty-six battalions ofinfantry, six regiments of dragoons, and a brigade of cavalry. It was anentire army merely for the purpose of holding this village, andsupporting his right, and of course he had all these troops the less toaid him in the battle which took place. The first battle of Hochstedtafforded a lesson which ought to have been studied on this occasion. There were many officers present, too, who had been at that battle; butthey were not consulted. One of two courses was open, either to take upa position behind the brook, and parallel to it, so as to dispute itspassage with the enemies, or to take advantage of the disorder they wouldbe thrown into in crossing it by attacking them then. Both these planswere good; the second was the better; but neither was adopted. What wasdone was, to leave a large space between our troops and the brook, thatthe enemy might pass at their ease, and be overthrown afterwards, as wassaid. With such dispositions it is impossible to doubt but that ourchiefs were struck with blindness. The Danube flowed near enough toBlenheim to be of sufficient support to our right, better indeed thanthat village, which consequently there was no necessity to hold. 

The enemies arrived on the 13th of August at the dawn, and at once tookup their position on the banks of the brook. Their surprise must havebeen great to see our army so far off, drawn up in battle array. Theyprofited by the extent of ground left to them, crossed the brook atnearly every point, formed themselves in several lines on the side towhich they crossed, and then extended themselves at their ease, withoutreceiving the slightest opposition. This is exact truth, but without anyappearance of being so; and posterity will with difficulty believe it. It was nearly eight o'clock before all these dispositions, which ourtroops saw made without moving, were completed. Prince Eugene with hisarmy had the right; the Duke of Marlborough the left. The latter thusopposed to the forces of Tallard, and Prince Eugene to those of Marsin. 

The battle commenced; and in one part was so far favourable to us thatthe attack of Prince Eugene was repulsed by Marsin, who might haveprofited by this circumstance but for the unfortunate position of ourright. Two things contributed to place us at a disadvantage. The secondline, separated by the quagmire I have alluded to from the first line, could not sustain it properly; and in consequence of the long bend it wasnecessary to make round this quagmire, neither line, after receiving ormaking a charge, could retire quickly to rally and return again to theattack. As for the infantry, the twenty-six battalions shut up inBlenheim left a great gap in it that could not fail to, be felt. TheEnglish, who soon perceived the advantage they might obtain from thiswant of infantry, and from the difficulty with which our cavalry of theright was rallied, profited by these circumstances with the readiness ofpeople who have plenty of ground at their disposal. They redoubled theircharges, and to say all in one word, they defeated at their first attackall this army, notwithstanding the efforts of our general officers and ofseveral regiments to repel them. The army of the Elector, entirelyunsupported, and taken in flank by the English, wavered in its turn. All the valour of the Bavarians, all the prodigies of the Elector, wereunable to remedy the effects of this wavering. Thus was seen, at one andthe same time, the army of Tallard beaten and thrown into the utmostdisorder; that of the Elector sustaining itself with great intrepidity, but already in retreat; and that of Marsin charging and gaining groundupon Prince Eugene. It was not until Marsin learnt of the defeat ofTallard and of the Elector, that he ceased to pursue his advantages, andcommenced his retreat. This retreat he was able to make without beingpursued. 

[Illustration: After The Battle of Blenheim--Painted by R. Canton Woodville--354]

In the mean time the troops in Blenheim had been twice attacked, and hadtwice repulsed the enemy. Tallard had given orders to these troops on noaccount to leave their positions, nor to allow a single man even to quitthem. Now, seeing his army defeated and in flight, he wished tocountermand these orders. He was riding in hot haste to Blenheim to doso, with only two attendants, when all three were surrounded, recognised, and taken prisoners. 

These troops shut up in Blenheim had been left under the command ofBlansac, camp-marshal, and Clerembault, lieutenant-general. During thebattle this latter was missed, and could nowhere be found. It was knownafterwards that, for fear of being killed, he had endeavoured to escapeacross the Danube on horseback attended by a single valet. The valetpassed over the river in safety, but his master went to the bottom. Blansac, thus left alone in command, was much troubled by the disordershe saw and heard, and by the want which he felt of fresh orders. He senta messenger to Tallard for instructions how to act, but his messenger wasstopped on the road, and taken prisoner. I only repeat what Blansachimself reported in his defence, which was equally ill-received by theKing and the public, but which had no contradictors, for nobody waswitness of what took place at Blenheim except those actually there, andthey all, the principals at least, agreed in their story. What some ofthe soldiers said was not of a kind that could altogether be relied upon. 

While Blansac was in this trouble, he saw Denonville, one of our officerswho had been taken prisoner, coming towards the village, accompanied byan officer who waved a handkerchief in the air and demanded a parley. Denonville was a young man, very handsome and well made, who being agreat favourite with Monseigneur le Duc de Bourgogne had becomepresumptuous and somewhat audacious. Instead of speaking in private toBlansac and the other principal officers--since he had undertaken sostrange a mission--Denonville, who had some intellect, plenty of finetalk, and a mighty opinion of himself, set to work haranguing the troops, trying to persuade them to surrender themselves prisoners of war, so thatthey might preserve themselves for the service of the King. Blansac, whosaw the wavering this caused among the troops, sharply told Denonville tohold his tongue, and began himself to harangue the troops in a contraryspirit. But it was to late. The mischief was done. Only one regiment, that of Navarre, applauded him, all the rest maintained a dull silence. I remind my readers that it is Blansac's version of the story I amgiving. 

Soon after Denonville and his companion had returned to the enemy, anEnglish lord came, demanding a parley with the commandant. He wasadmitted to Blansac, to whom he said that the Duke of Marlborough hadsent him to say that he had forty battalions and sixty pieces of cannonat his disposal, with reinforcements to any extent at command; that heshould surround the village on all sides; that the army of Tallard was inflight, and the remains of that of the Elector in retreat; that Tallardand many general officers were prisoners; that Blansac could hope for noreinforcements; and that, therefore, he had better at once make anhonourable capitulation, and surrender, himself with all his menprisoners of war, than attempt a struggle in which he was sure to beworsted with great loss. Blansac wanted to dismiss this messenger atonce, but the Englishman pressed him to advance a few steps out of thevillage, and see with his own eyes the defeat of the Electoral army, andthe preparations that were made on the other side to continue the battle. Blansac accordingly, attended by one of his officers, followed this lord, and was astounded to see with his own eyes that all he had just heard wastrue. Returned into Bleinheim, Blansac assembled all his principalofficers, made them acquainted with the proposition that had been made, and told them what he had himself seen. Every one comprehended what afrightful shock it would be for the country when it learnt that they hadsurrendered themselves prisoners of war; but all things well considered, it was thought best to accept these terms, and so preserve to the Kingthe twenty-six battalions and the twelve squadrons of dragoons who werethere. This terrible capitulation was at once, therefore, drawn up andsigned by Blansac, the general officers, and the heads of every corpsexcept that of Navarre, which was thus the sole one which refused. 

The number of prisoners that fell to the enemy in this battle wasinfinite. The Duke of Marlborough took charge of the most distinguished, until he could carry them away to England, to grace his triumph there. He treated them all, even the humblest, with the utmost attention, consideration, and politeness, and with a modesty that did him even morehonour than his victory. Those that came under the charge of PrinceLouis of Baden were much less kindly treated. 

The King received the cruel news of this battle on the 21st of August, bya courier from the Marechal de Villeroy. By this courier the King learntthat a battle had taken place on the 13th; had lasted from eight o'clockin the morning until evening; that the entire army of Tallard was killedor taken prisoners; that it was not known what had become of Tallardhimself, or whether the Elector and Marsin had been at the action. Theprivate letters that arrived were all opened to see what news theycontained, but no fresh information could be got from them. For six daysthe King remained in this uncertainty as to the real losses that had beensustained. Everybody was afraid to write bad news; all the letters whichfrom time to time arrived, gave, therefore, but an unsatisfactory accountof what had taken place. The King used every means in his power toobtain some news. Every post that came in was examined by him, but therewas little found to satisfy him. Neither the King nor anybody else couldunderstand, from what had reached them, how it was that an entire armyhad been placed inside a village, and had surrendered itself by a signedcapitulation. It puzzled every brain. At last the details, that hadoozed out little by little, augmented to a perfect stream, by the, arrival of one of our officers, who, taken prisoner, had been allowed bythe Duke of Marlborough to go to Paris to relate to the King themisfortune that had happened to him. 

We were not accustomed to misfortunes. This one, very reasonably, wasutterly unexpected. It seemed in every way the result of badgeneralship, of an unjustifiable disposition of troops, and of a seriesof gross and incredible errors. The commotion was general. There wasscarcely an illustrious family that had not had one of its memberskilled, wounded, or taken prisoner. Other families were in the samecase. The public sorrow and indignation burst out without restraint. Nobody who had taken part in this humiliation was spared; the generalsand the private soldiers alike came in for blame. Denonville wasignominiously broken for the speech he had made at Blenheim. Thegenerals, however, were entirely let off. All the punishment fell uponcertain regiments, which were broken, and upon certain unimportantofficers--the guilty and innocent mixed together. The outcry wasuniversal. The grief of the King at this ignominy and this loss, at themoment when he imagined that the fate of the Emperor was in his hands, may be imagined. At a time when he might have counted upon striking adecisive blow, he saw himself reduced to act simply on the defensive, inorder to preserve his troops; and had to repair the loss of an entirearmy, killed or taken prisoners. The sequel showed not less that thehand of God was weighty upon us. All judgment was lost. We trembledeven in the midst of Alsace. 

In the midst of all this public sorrow, the rejoicing and the fetes forthe birth of the Duc de Bretagne son of Monseigneur le Duc de Bourgogne, were not discontinued. The city gave a firework fete upon the river, that Monseigneur, the Princes, his sons, and Madame la Duchesse deBourgogne, with many ladies and courtiers, came to see from the windowsof the Louvre, magnificent cheer and refreshments being provided forthem. This was a contrast which irritated the people, who would notunderstand that it was meant for magnanimity. A few days afterwards theKing gave an illumination and a fete at Marly, to which the Court ofSaint Germain was invited; and which was all in honour of Madame laDuchesse de Bourgogne. He thanked the Prevot des Marchand for thefireworks upon the river, and said that Monseigneur and Madame had foundthem very beautiful. 

Shortly after this, I received a letter from one of my friends, the Ducde Montfort, who had always been in the army of the Marechal de Villeroy. He sent word to me, that upon his return he intended to break his sword, and retire from the army. His letter was written in such a despairingtone that, fearing lest with his burning courage he might commit somemartial folly, I conjured him not to throw himself into danger for thesake of being killed. It seemed that I had anticipated his intentions. A convoy of money was to be sent to Landau. Twice he asked to be allowedto take charge of this convoy, and twice he was told it was tooinsignificant a charge for a camp-marshal to undertake. The third timethat he asked this favour, he obtained it by pure importunity. Hecarried the money safely into Landau, without meeting with any obstacle. On his return he saw some hussars roving about. Without a moment'shesitation he resolved to give chase to them. He was with difficultyrestrained for some time, and a last, breaking away, he set off to attackthem, followed by only two officers. The hussars dispersed themselves, and retreated; the Duc de Montfort followed them, rode into the midst ofthem, was surrounded on all sides, and soon received a blow whichoverturned him. In a few moments after, being carried off by his men, hedied, having only had time to confess himself, and to arrive at hisquarters. He was infinitely regretted by everybody who had known him. The grief of his family may be imagined. 

CHAPTER XXX

The King did not long remain without some consolation for the loss of thebattle of Hochstedt (Blenheim). The Comte de Toulouse--very different inevery respect from his brother, the Duc du Maine--was wearied withcruising in the Mediterranean, without daring to attack enemies that weretoo strong for him. He had, therefore, obtained reinforcements thisyear, so that he was in a state to measure his forces with any opponent. The English fleet was under the command of Admiral Rooks. The Comte deToulouse wished above all things to attack. He asked permission to doso, and, the permission being granted, he set about his enterprise. Hemet the fleet of Admiral Rooks near Malaga, on the 24th of September ofthis year, and fought with it from ten o'clock in the morning until eighto'clock in the evening. The fleets, as far as the number of vessels wasconcerned, were nearly equal. So furious or so obstinate a sea-fight hadnot been seen for a long time. They had always the wind upon our fleet, yet all the advantage was on the side of the Comte de Toulouse, who couldboast that he had obtained the victory, and whose vessel fought that ofRooks, dismasted it, and pursued it all next day towards the coast ofBarbary, where the Admiral retired. The enemy lost six thousand men; theship of the Dutch Vice-Admiral was blown up; several others were sunk, and some dismasted. Our fleet lost neither ship nor mast, but thevictory cost the lives of many distinguished people, in addition to thoseof fifteen hundred soldiers or sailors killed or wounded. 

Towards evening on the 25th, by dint of maneuvers, aided by the wind, ourfleet came up again with that of Rooks. The Comte de Toulouse was forattacking it again on the morrow, and showed that if the attack weresuccessful, Gibraltar would be the first result of the victory. Thatfamous place, which commands the important strait of the same name, hadbeen allowed to fall into neglect, and was defended by a miserablegarrison of forty men. In this state it had of course easily fallen intothe hands of the enemies. But they had not yet had time to man it with amuch superior force, and Admiral Rooks once defeated, it must havesurrendered to us. 

The Comte de Toulouse urged his advice with all the energy of which hewas capable, and he was supported in opinion by others of more experiencethan himself. But D'O, the mentor of the fleet, against whose counsel hehad been expressly ordered by the King never to act, opposed the projectof another attack with such disdainful determination, that the Comte hadno course open but to give way. The annoyance which this causedthroughout the fleet was very great. It soon was known what would havebecome of the enemy's fleet had it been attacked, and that Gibraltarwould have been found in exactly the same state as when abandoned. TheComte de Toulouse acquired great honour in this campaign, and his stupidteacher lost little, because he had little to lose. 

M. De Mantua having surrendered his state to the King, thereby renderingus a most important service in Italy, found himself ill at ease in histerritory, which had become the theatre of war, and had come incognito toParis. He had apartments provided for him in the Luxembourg, furnishedmagnificently with the Crown furniture, and was very graciously receivedby the King. The principal object of his journey was to marry someFrench lady; and as he made no secret of this intention, more than oneplot was laid in order to provide him with a wife. M. De Vaudemont, intent upon aggrandizing the house of Lorraine, wished. M de Mantua tomarry a member of that family, and fixed upon Mademoiselle d'Elboeuf forhis bride. The Lorraines did all in their power to induce M. De Mantuato accept her. But M. Le Prince had also his designs in this matter. Hehad a daughter; whom he knew not how to get off his hands, and he thoughtthat in more ways than one it would be to his advantage to marry her tothe Duke of Mantua. He explained his views to the King, who gave himpermission to follow them out, and promised to serve him with all hisprotection. But when the subject was broached to M. De Mantua, hedeclined this match in such a respectful, yet firm, manner that M. LePrince felt he must abandon all hope of carrying it out. The Lorraineswere not more successful in their designs. When M. De Vaudemont hadfirst spoken of Mademoiselle d'Elboeuf, M. De Mantua had appeared tolisten favourably. This was in Italy. Now that he was in Paris he actedvery differently. It was in vain that Mademoiselle d'Elboeuf was thrustin his way, as though by chance, at the promenades, in the churches; herbeauty, which might have touched many others, made no impression uponhim. The fact was that M. De Mantua, even long before leaving his state, had fixed upon a wife. 

Supping one evening with the Duc de Lesdiguieres, a little before thedeath of the latter, he saw a ring with a portrait in it; upon the Duke'sfinger. He begged to be allowed to look at the portrait, was charmedwith it, and said he should be very happy to have such a beautifulmistress. The Duke at this burst out laughing, and said it was theportrait of his wife. As soon as the Duc de Lesdiguieres was dead, de Mantua thought only of marrying the young widowed Duchess. He soughther everywhere when he arrived in Paris, but without being able to findher; because she was in the first year of her widowhood. He thereforeunbosomed himself to Torcy, who reported the matter to the King. TheKing approved of the design of M. De Mantua, and charged the Marechal deDuras to speak to the Duchesse de Lesdiguieres, who was his daughter. The Duchess was equally surprised and afflicted when she learned what wasin progress. She testified to her father her repugnance to abandonherself to the caprices and the jealousy of an old Italian 'debauche' thehorror she felt at the idea of being left alone with him in Italy; andthe reasonable fear she had of her health, with a man whose own could notbe good. 

I was promptly made acquainted with this affair; for Madame deLesdiguieres and Madame de Saint-Simon were on the most intimate terms. I did everything in my power to persuade Madame de Lesdirguieres tocontent to the match, insisting at once on her family position, on thereason of state, and on the pleasure of ousting Madame d'Elboeuf, --but itwas all in vain. I never saw such firmness. Pontchartrain, who came andreasoned with her, was even less successful than I, for he excited her bythreats and menaces. M. Le Prince himself supported us--having no longerany hope for himself, and fearing, above all things, M. De Mantua'smarriage with a Lorraine--and did all he could to persuade Madame deLesdiguieres to give in. I renewed my efforts in the same direction, butwith no better success than before. Nevertheless, M. De Mantua, irritated by not being able to see Madame de Lesdirguieres, resolved togo and wait for her on a Sunday at the Minimes. He found her shut up ina chapel, and drew near the door in order to see her as she went out. Hewas not much gratified; her thick crape veil was lowered; it was withdifficulty he could get a glance at her. Resolved to succeed, he spoketo Torcy, intimating that Madame de Lesdiguieres ought not to refuse sucha slight favour as to allow herself to be seen in a church. Torcycommunicated this to the King, who sent word to Madame de Lesdiguieresthat she must consent to the favour M. De Mantua demanded. She could notrefuse after this. M. De Mantua went accordingly, and waited for her inthe same place, where he had once already so badly seen her. He foundher, in the chapel, and drew near the door, as before. She came out, herveil raised, passed lightly before him, made him a sliding courtesy asshe glided by, in reply to his bow, and reached her coach. 

M. De Mantua was charmed; he redoubled his efforts with the King and M. De Duras; the matter was discussed in full council, like an affair ofstate--indeed it was one; and it was resolved to amuse M. De Mantua, andyet at the same time to do everything to vanquish this resistance ofMadame de Lesdiguieres, except employing the full authority of the King, which the King himself did not wish to exert. Everything was promised toher on the part of the King: that it should be his Majesty who would makethe stipulations of the marriage contract; that it should be his Majestywho would give her a dowry, and would guarantee her return to France ifshe became a widow, and assure her his protection while she remained awife; in one word, everything was tried, and in the gentlest and mosthonourable manner, to persuade her. Her mother lent us her house oneafternoon, in order that we might speak more at length and more at ourease there to Madame de Lesdiguieres than we could at the Hotel de Duras. We only gained a torrent of tears for our pains. 

A few days after this, I was very much astonished to hear Chamillartrelate to me all that had passed at this interview. I learnt afterwardsthat Madame de Lesdiguieres, fearing that if, entirely unsupported, shepersisted in her refusal, it might draw upon her the anger of the King, had begged Chamillart to implore his Majesty not to insist upon thismarriage. M. De Mantua hearing this, turned his thoughts elsewhere; andshe was at last delivered of a pursuit which had become a painfulpersecution to her. Chamillart served her so well that the affair cameto an end; and the King, flattered perhaps by the desire this youngDuchess showed to remain his subject instead of becoming a sovereign, passed a eulogium upon her the same evening in his cabinet to his familyand to the Princesses, by whom it was spread abroad through society. 

I may as well finish this matter at once. The Lorraines, who had watchedvery closely the affair up to this point, took hope again directly theyheard of the resolution M. De Mantua had formed to abandon his pursuit ofMadame de Lesdiguieres. They, in their turn, were closely watched byM. Le Prince, who so excited the King against them, that Madame d'Elboeufreceived orders from him not to continue pressing her suit upon M. DeMantua. That did not stop them. They felt that the King would notinterfere with them by an express prohibition, and sure, by pastexperience, of being on better terms with him afterwards than before, they pursued their object with obstinacy. By dint of much plotting andscheming, and by the aid of their creatures, they contrived to overcomethe repugnance of M. De Mantua to Mademoiselle d'Elboeuf, which at bottomcould be only caprice--her beauty, her figure, and her birth taken intoaccount. But Mademoiselle d'Elboeuf, in her turn, was as opposed tomarriage with M. De Mantua as Madame de Lesdiguieres had been. She was, however, brought round ere long, and then the consent of the King was theonly thing left to be obtained. The Lorraines made use of their usualsuppleness in order to gain that. They represented the impolicy ofinterfering with the selection of a sovereign who was the ally of France, and who wished to select a wife from among her subjects, and succeeded sowell, that the King determined to become neutral; that is to say, neitherto prohibit nor to sanction this match. M. Le Prince was instrumental ininducing the King to take this neutral position; and he furthermorecaused the stipulation to be made, that it should not be celebrated inFrance, but at Mantua. 

After parting with the King, M. De Mantua, on the 21st of September, wentto Nemours, slept there, and then set out for Italy. At the same timeMadame and Mademoiselle d'Elboeuf, with Madame de Pompadour, sister ofthe former, passed through Fontainebleau without going to see a soul, andfollowed their prey lest he should change his mind and escape them untilthe road he was to take branched off from that they were to go by; he infact intending to travel by sea and they by land. On the way their fearsredoubled. Arrived at Nevers, and lodged in a hostelrie, they thought itwould not be well to commit themselves further without more certainsecurity: Madame de Pompadour therefore proposed to M. De Mantua not todelay his happiness any longer, but to celebrate his marriage at once. He defended himself as well as he could, but was at last obliged to givein. During this indecent dispute, the Bishop was sent to. He had justdied, and the Grand Vicar, not knowing what might be the wishes of theKing upon this marriage, refused to celebrate it. The chaplain wastherefore appealed to, and he at once married Mademoiselle d'Elboeuf toM. De Mantua in the hotel. As soon as the ceremony was over, Madamed'Elboeuf wished to leave her daughter alone with M. De Mantua, andalthough he strongly objected to this, everybody quitted the room, leaving only the newly married couple there, and Madame de Pompadouroutside upon the step listening to what passed between them. But findingafter a while that both were very much embarrassed, and that M. De Mantuadid little but cry out for the company to return, she conferred with hersister, and they agreed to give him his liberty. Immediately he hadobtained it, he mounted his horse, though it was not early, and did notsee them again until they reached Italy--though all went the same road asfar as Lyons. The news of this strange celebration of marriage was soonspread abroad with all the ridicule which attached to it. 

The King was very much annoyed when he learnt that his orders had beenthus disobeyed. The Lorraines plastered over the affair by representingthat they feared an affront from M. De Mantua, and indeed it did not seemat all unlikely that M. De Mantua, forced as it were into compliance withtheir wishes, might have liked nothing better than to reach Italy andthen laugh at them. Meanwhile, Madame d'Elboeuf and her daughterembarked on board the royal galleys and started for Italy. On the waythey were fiercely chased by some African corsairs, and it is a greatpity they were not taken to finish the romance. 

However, upon arriving in Italy, the marriage was again celebrated, thistime with all the forms necessary for the occasion. But Madame d'Elboeufhad no cause to rejoice that she had succeeded in thus disposing of herdaughter. The new Duchesse de Mantua was guarded by her husband with theutmost jealousy. She was not allowed to see anybody except her mother, and that only for an hour each day. Her women entered her apartment onlyto dress and undress her. The Duke walled up very high all the windowsof his house, and caused his wife to, be guarded by old women. Shepassed her days thus in a cruel prison. This treatment, which I did notexpect, and the little consideration, not to say contempt, shown here forM. De Mantua since his departure, consoled me much for the invincibleobstinacy of Madame de Lesdiguieres. Six months after, Madame d'Elboeufreturned, beside herself with vexation, but too vain to show it. Shedisguised the misfortune of her daughter, and appeared to be offended ifit was spoken of; but all our letters from the army showed that the newswas true. The strangest thing of all is, that the Lorraines after thisjourney were as well treated by the King as if they had never undertakenit; a fact which shows their art and ascendency. 

I have dwelt too long perhaps upon this matter. It appeared to me tomerit attention by its singularity, and still more so because it is byfacts of this sort that is shown what was the composition of the Court ofthe King. 

About this time the Comtesse d'Auvergne finished a short life by anillness very strange and uncommon. When she married the Comte d'Auvergneshe was a Huguenot, and he much wanted to make her turn Catholic. A famous advocate of that time, who was named Chardon, had been aHuguenot, and his wife also; they had made a semblance, however, ofabjuring, but made no open profession of Catholicism. Chardon wassustained by his great reputation, and by the number of protectors he hadmade for himself. 

One morning he and his wife were in their coach before the Hotel-Dieu, waiting for a reply that their lackey was a very long time in bringingthem. Madame Chardon glanced by chance upon the grand portal of NotreDame, and little by little fell into a profound reverie, which might bebetter called reflection. Her husband, who at last perceived this, askedher what had sent her into such deep thought, and pushed her elbow evento draw a reply from her. She told him then what she was thinking about. Pointing to Notre Dame, she said that it was many centuries before Lutherand Calvin that those images of saints had been sculptured over thatportal; that this proved that saints had long since been invoked; theopposition of the reformers to this ancient opinion was a novelty; thatthis novelty rendered suspicious other dogmas against the antiquity ofCatholicism that they taught; that these reflections, which she had neverbefore made, gave her much disquietude, and made her form the resolutionto seek to enlighten herself. 

Chardon thought his wife right, and from that day they laid themselvesout to seek the truth, then to consult, then to be instructed. Thislasted a year, and then they made a new abjuration, and both everafterwards passed their lives in zeal and good works. Madame Chardonconverted many Huguenots. The Comte d'Auvergne took his wife to her. The Countess was converted by her, and became a very good Catholic. Whenshe died she was extremely regretted by all the relatives of her husband, although at first they had looked upon her coldly. 

In the month of this September, a strange attempt at assassinationoccurred. Vervins had been forced into many suits against his relatives, and was upon the point of gaining them all, when one of his cousins-german, who called himself the Abbe de Pre, caused him to be attacked ashe passed in his coach along the Quai de la Tournelle, before thecommunity of Madame de Miramion. Vervins was wounded with several swordcuts, and also his coachman, who wished to defend him. In consequence ofthe complaint Vervins made, the Abbe escaped abroad, whence he neverreturned, and soon after, his crime being proved, was condemned to bebroken alive on the wheel. Vervins had long been menaced with an attackby the Abbe. Vervins was an agreeable, well-made man, but very idle. He had entered the army; but quitted it soon, and retired to his estatesin Picardy. There he shut himself up without any cause of disgust or ofdispleasure, without being in any embarrassment, for on the contrary hewas well to do, and all his affairs were in good order, and he nevermarried; without motives of piety, for piety was not at all in his vein;without being in bad health, for his health was always perfect; without ataste for improvement, for no workmen were ever seen in his house; stillless on account of the chase, for he never went to it. Yet he stayed inhis house for several years, without intercourse with a soul, and, whatis most incomprehensible, without budging from his bed, except to allowit to be made. He dined there, and often all alone; he transacted whatlittle business he had to do there, and received while there the fewpeople he could not refuse admission to; and each day, from the moment heopened his eyes until he closed them again, worked at tapestry, or read alittle; he persevered until his death in this strange fashion ofexistence; so uniquely singular, that I have wished to describe it. 

CHAPTER XXXI

There presents itself to my memory an anecdote which it would be veryprudent perhaps to be silent upon, and which is very curious for anybodywho has seen things so closely as I have, to describe. What determinesme to relate it is that the fact is not altogether unknown, and thatevery Court swarms with similar adventures. Must it be said then? Wehad amongst us a charming young Princess who, by her graces, herattentions, and her original manners, had taken possession of the heartsof the King, of Madame de Maintenon, and of her husband, Monseigneur leDuc de Bourgogne. The extreme discontent so justly felt against herfather, M. De Savoie, had not made the slightest alteration in theirtenderness for her. The King, who hid nothing from her, who worked withhis ministers in her presence whenever she liked to enter, took care notto say a word in her hearing against her father. In private, she claspedthe King round the neck at all hours, jumped upon his knees, tormentedhim with all sorts of sportiveness, rummaged among his papers, opened hisletters end read them in his presence, sometimes in spite of him; andacted in the same manner with Madame de Maintenon. Despite this extremeliberty, she never spoke against any one: gracious to all, sheendeavoured to ward off blows from all whenever she could; was attentiveto the private comforts of the King, even the humblest: kind to all whoserved her, and living with her ladies, as with friends, in completeliberty, old and young; she was the darling of the Court, adored by all;everybody, great and small, was anxious to please her; everybody missedher when she was away; when she reappeared the void was filled up; in aword, she had attached all hearts to her; but while in this brilliantsituation she lost her own. 

Nangis, now a very commonplace Marshal of France, was at that time infull bloom. He had an agreeable but not an uncommon face; was well made, without anything marvellous; and had been educated in intrigue by theMarechale de Rochefort, his grandmother, and Madame de Blansac, hismother, who were skilled mistresses of that art. Early introduced bythem into the great world of which they were, so to speak, the centre, he had no talent but that of pleasing women, of speaking their language, and of monopolising the most desirable by a discretion beyond his years, and which did not belong to his time. Nobody was more in vogue than he. He had had the command of a regiment when he was quite a child. He hadshown firmness, application, and brilliant valour in war, that the ladieshad made the most of, and they sufficed at his age; he was of the Courtof Monseigneur le Duc de Bourgogne, about the same age, and well treatedby him. 

The Duc de Bourgogne, passionately in love with his wife, was not so wellmade as Nangis; but the Princess reciprocated his ardor so perfectly thatup to his death he never suspected that her glances had wandered to anyone else. They fell, however, upon Nangis, and soon redoubled. Nangiswas not ungrateful, but he feared the thunderbolt; and his heart, too, was already engaged. Madame de la Vrilliere, who, without beauty, waspretty and grateful as Love, had made this conquest. She was, as I havesaid, daughter of Madame de Mailly, Dame d'Atours of Madame la Duchessede Bourgogne; and was always near her. Jealousy soon enlightened her asto what was taking place. Far from yielding her conquest to the Duchess;she made a point of preserving it, of disputing its possession, andcarrying it off. This struggle threw Nangis into a terribleembarrassment. He feared the fury of Madame de la Vrilliere, whoaffected to be more ready to break out than in reality she was. Besideshis love for her, he feared the result of an outburst, and already sawhis fortune lost. On the other hand, any reserve of his towards theDuchess, who had so much power in her hands--and seemed destined to havemore--and who he knew was not likely to suffer a rival--might, he felt, be his ruin. This perplexity, for those who were awareof it, gave rise to continual scenes. I was then a constant visitor ofMadame de Blansac, at Paris, and of the Marechale de Rochefort, atVersailles; and, through them and several other ladies of the Court, withwhom I was intimate, I learnt, day by day, everything that passed. Inaddition to the fact that nothing diverted me more, the results of thisaffair might be great; and it was my especial ambition to be wellinformed of everything. At length, all members of the Court who wereassiduous and enlightened understood the state of affairs; but eitherthrough fear or from love to the Duchess, the whole Court was silent, saweverything, whispered discreetly, and actually kept the secret that wasnot entrusted to it. The struggle between the two ladies, not withoutbitterness, and sometimes insolence on the part of Madame de laVrilliere, nor without suffering and displeasure gently manifested on thepart of Madame de Bourgogne, was for a long time a singular sight. 

Whether Nangis, too faithful to his first love, needed some grains ofjealousy to excite him, or whether things fell out naturally, it happenedthat he found a rival. Maulevrier, son of a brother of Colbert who haddied of grief at not being named Marshal of France, was this rival. Hehad married a daughter of the Marechal de Tesse, and was not veryagreeable in appearance--his face, indeed, was very commonplace. He wasby no means framed for gallantry; but he had wit, and a mind fertile inintrigues, with a measureless ambition that was sometimes pushed tomadness. His wife was pretty, not clever, quarrelsome, and under avirginal appearance; mischievous to the last degree. As daughter of aman for whom Madame de Bourgogne had much gratitude for the part he hadtaken in negotiating her marriage, and the Peace of Savoy, she was easilyenabled to make her way at Court, and her husband with her. He soonsniffed what was passing in respect to Nangis, and obtained means ofaccess to Madame de Bourgogne, through the influence of his father-in-law; was assiduous in his attentions; and at length, excited by example, dared to sigh. Tired of not being understood, he ventured to write. Itis pretended that he sent his letters through one of the Court ladies, who thought they came from Tesse, delivered them, and handed him back theanswers, as though for delivery by him. I will not add what more wasbelieved. I will simply say that this affair was as soon perceived ashad been the other, and was treated, with the same silence. 

Under pretext of friendship, Madame de Bourgogne went more than once--onaccount of the speedy departure of her husband (for the army), attendedsome, times by La Maintenon, --to the house of Madame de Maulevrier, toweep with her. The Court smiled. Whether the tears were for Madame deMaulevrier or for Nangis, was doubtful. But Nangis, nevertheless, aroused by this rivalry, threw Madame de la Vrilliere into terriblegrief, and into a humour over which she was not mistress. 

This tocsin made itself heard by Maulevrier. What will not a man thinkof doing when possessed to excess by love or ambition? He pretended tohave something the matter with his chest, put himself on a milk diet, made believe that he had lost his voice, and was sufficiently master ofhimself to refrain from uttering an intelligible word during a wholeyear; by these means evading the campaign and remaining at the Court. He was mad enough to relate this project, and many others, to his friendthe Duc de Lorges, from whom, in turn, I learnt it. The fact was, thatbringing himself thus to the necessity of never speaking to anybodyexcept in their ear, he had the liberty of speaking low to--Madame laDuchesse de Bourgogne before all the Court without impropriety andwithout suspicion. In this manner he said to her whatever he wished dayby day, and was never overheard. He also contrived to say things theshort answers to which were equally unheard. He so accustomed people tothis manner of speaking that they took no more notice of it than wasexpressed in pity for such a sad state; but it happened that those whoapproached the nearest to Madame la Duchesse de Bourgogne when Maulevrierwas at her side, soon knew enough not to be eager to draw near her againwhen she was thus situated. This trick lasted more than a year: hisconversation was principally composed of reproaches--but reproachesrarely succeed in love. Maulevrier, judging by the ill-humour of Madamede la Vrilliere, believed Nangis to be happy. Jealousy and ragetransported him at last to the extremity of folly. 

One day, as Madame de Bourgogne was coming from mass and he knew thatDangeau, her chevalier d'honneur, was absent, he gave her his hand. Theattendants had accustomed themselves to let him have this honour, onaccount of his distinguished voice, so as to allow him to speak by theway, and retired respectfully so as not to hear what he said. The ladiesalways followed far behind, so that, in the midst of all the Court, hehad, from the chapel to the apartments of Madame de Bourgogne, the fulladvantages of a private interview--advantages that he had availed himselfof several times. On this day he railed against Nangis to Madame deBourgogne, called him by all sorts of names, threatened to telleverything to the King and to Madame de Maintenon, and to the Duc deBourgogne, squeezed her fingers as if he would break them, and led her inthis manner, like a madman as he was, to her apartments. Upon enteringthem she was ready to swoon. Trembling all over she entered herwardrobe, called one of her favourite ladies, Madame de Nogaret, to her, related what had occurred, saying she knew not how she had reached herrooms, or how it was she had not sunk beneath the floor, or died. Shehad never been so dismayed. The same day Madame de Nogaret related thisto Madame de Saint-Simon and to me, in the strictest confidence. Shecounselled the Duchess to behave gently with such a dangerous madman, andto avoid committing herself in any way with him. The worst was, thatafter this he threatened and said many things against Nangis, as a manwith whom he was deeply offended, and whom he meant to call to account. Although he gave no reason for this, the reason was only too evident. The fear of Madame de Bourgogne at this may be imagined, and also that ofNangis. He was brave and cared for nobody; but to be mixed up in such anaffair as this made him quake with fright. He beheld his fortune and hishappiness in the hands of a furious madman. He shunned Maulevrier fromthat time as much as possible, showed himself but little, and held hispeace. 

For six weeks Madame de Bourgogne lived in the most measured manner, andin mortal tremors of fear, without, however, anything happening. I knownot who warned Tesse of what was going on. But when he learnt it heacted like a man of ability. He persuaded his son-in-law, Maulevrier, tofollow him to Spain, as to a place where his fortune was assured to him. He spoke to Fagon, who saw all and knew all. He understood matters in amoment, and at once said, that as so many remedies had been triedineffectually for Maulevrier, he must go to a warmer climate, as a winterin France would inevitably kill him. It was then as a remedy, and aspeople go to the waters, that he went to Spain. The King and all theCourt believed this, and neither the King nor Madame de Maintenon offeredany objections. As soon as Tesse knew this he hurried his son-in-law outof the realm, and so put a stop to his follies and the mortal fear theyhad caused. To finish this adventure at once, although it will lead mefar beyond the date of other matters to be spoken of after, let me saywhat became of Maulevrier after this point of the narrative. 

He went first to Spain with Tesse. On the way they had an interview withMadame des Ursins, and succeeded in gaining her favour so completely, that, upon arriving at Madrid, the King and Queen of Spain, informed ofthis, welcomed them with much cordiality. Maulevrier soon became a greatfavourite with the Queen of Spain. It has been said, that he wished toplease her, and that he succeeded. At all events he often had longinterviews with her in private, and these made people think and talk. 

Maulevrier began to believe it time to reap after having so well sown. He counted upon nothing less than being made grandee of Spain, and wouldhave obtained this favour but for his indiscretion. News of what was instore for him was noised abroad. The Duc de Grammont, then ourambassador at Madrid, wrote word to the King of the rumours that were incirculation of Maulevrier's audacious conduct towards the Queen of Spain, and of the reward it was to meet with. The King at once sent a verystrong letter to the King of Spain about Maulevrier, who, by the samecourier, was prohibited from accepting any favour that might be offeredhim. He was ordered at the same time to join Tesse at Gibraltar. He hadalready done so at the instance of Tesse himself; so the courier wentfrom Madrid to Gibraltar to find him. His rage and vexation upon seeinghimself deprived of the recompense he had considered certain were verygreat. But they yielded in time to the hopes he formed of success, andhe determined to set off for Madrid and thence to Versailles. Hisfather-in-law tried to retain him at the siege, but in vain. Hisrepresentations and his authority were alike useless. Maulevrier hopedto gain over the King and Queen of Spain so completely, that our Kingwould be forced, as it were, to range himself on their side; but the Ducde Grammont at once wrote word that Maulevrier had left the siege ofGibraltar and returned to Madrid. This disobedience was at oncechastised. A courier was immediately despatched to Maulevrier, commanding him to set out for France. He took leave of the King andQueen of Spain like a man without hope, and left Spain. The mostremarkable thing is, that upon arriving at Paris, and finding the Courtat Marly, and his wife there also, he asked permission to go too, thehusbands being allowed by right to accompany their wives there, and theKing, to avoid a disturbance, did not refuse him. 

At first everything seemed to smile upon Maulervrier. He had, as I havesaid, made friends with Madame des Ursins when he was on the road toSpain. He had done so chiefly by vaunting his intimacy with Madame deBourgogne, and by showing to Madame des Ursins that he was in many of thesecrets of the Court. Accordingly, upon his return, she took him by thehand and showed a disposition towards him which could not fail toreinstate him in favour. She spoke well of him to Madame de Maintenon, who, always much smitten with new friends, received him well, and oftenhad conversations with him which lasted more than three hours. Madame deMaintenon mentioned him to the King, and Maulevrier, who had returned outof all hope, now saw himself in a more favourable position than ever. 

But the old cause of trouble still existed, and with fresh complications. Nangis was still in favour, and his appearance made Maulevrier miserable. There was a new rival too in the field, the Abbe de Polignac. 

Pleasing, nay most fascinating in manner, the Abbe was a man to gain allhearts. He stopped at no flattery to succeed in this. One day whenfollowing the King through the gardens of Marly, it came on to rain. The King considerately noticed the Abbe's dress, little calculated tokeep off rain. "It is no matter, Sire, " said De Polignac, "the rain ofMarly does not wet. " People laughed much at this, and these words were astanding reproach to the soft-spoken Abbe. 

One of the means by which the Abbe gained the favour of the King was bybeing the lover of Madame du Maine. His success at length was great inevery direction. He even envied the situations of Nangis and Maulevrier;and sought to participate in the same happiness. He took the same road. Madame d'O and the Marechale de Coeuvres became his friends. 

He sought to be heard, and was heard. At last he faced the danger of theSwiss, and on fine nights was seen with the Duchess in the gardens. Nangis diminished in favour. Maulevrier on his return increased in fury. The Abbe met with the same fate as they: everything was perceived: peopletalked about the matter in whispers, but silence was kept. This triumph, in spite of his age, did not satisfy the Abbe: he aimed at something moresolid. He wished to arrive at the cardinalship, and to further his viewshe thought it advisable to ingratiate himself into the favour of Monsieurde Bourgogne. He sought introduction to them through friends of mine, whom I warned against him as a man without scruple, and intent only uponadvancing himself. My warnings were in vain. My friends would not heedme, and the Abbe de Polignac succeeded in gaining the confidence ofMonsieur de Bourgogne, as well as the favour of Madame de Bourgogne. 

Maulevrier had thus two sources of annoyance--the Abbe de Polignac andNangis. Of the latter he showed himself so jealous, that Madame deMaulevrier, out of pique, made advances to him. Nangis, to screenhimself the better, replied to her. Maulevrier perceived this. He knewhis wife to be sufficiently wicked to make him fear her. So manytroubles of heart and brain transported him. He lost his head. 

One day the Marechale de Coeuvres came to see him, apparently on somemessage of reconciliation. He shut the door upon her; barricaded herwithin, and through the door quarrelled with her, even to abuse, for anhour, during which she had the patience to remain there without beingable to see him. After this he went rarely to Court, but generally kepthimself shut up at home. 

Sometimes he would go out all alone at the strangest hours, take a fiacreand drive away to the back of the Chartreux or to other remote spots. Alighting there, he would whistle, and a grey-headed old man wouldadvance and give him a packet, or one would be thrown to him from awindow, or he would pick up a box filled with despatches, hidden behind apost. I heard of these mysterious doings from people to whom he was vainand indiscreet enough to boast of them. He continually wrote letters toMadame de Bourgogne, and to Madame de Maintenon, but more frequently tothe former. Madame Cantin was their agent; and I know people who haveseen letters of hers in which she assured Maulevrier, in the strongestterms, that he might ever reckon on the Duchess. 

He made a last journey to Versailles, where he saw his mistress inprivate, and quarrelled with her cruelly. After dining with Torcy hereturned to Paris. There, torn by a thousand storms of love, ofjealousy, of ambition, his head was so troubled that doctors were obligedto be called in, and he was forbidden to see any but the mostindispensable persons, and those at the hours when he was least ill. A hundred visions passed through his brain. Now like a madman he wouldspeak only of Spain, of Madame de Bourgogne, of Nangis, whom he wished tokill or to have assassinated; now full of remorse towards M. DeBourgogne, he made reflections so curious to hear, that no one dared toremain with him, and he was left alone. At other times, recalling hisearly days, he had nothing but ideas of retreat and penitence. Then aconfession was necessary in order to banish his despair as to the mercyof God. Often he thought himself very ill and upon the point of death. 

The world, however, and even his nearest friends persuaded themselvesthat he was only playing a part; and hoping to put an end to it, theydeclared to him that he passed for mad in society, and that it behovedhim to rise out of such a strange state and show himself. This was thelast blow and it overwhelmed him. Furious at finding that this opinionwas ruining all the designs of his ambition, he delivered himself up todespair. Although watched with extreme care by his wife, by particularfriends, and by his servants, he took his measures so well, that on theGood Friday of the year 1706, at about eight o'clock in the morning, heslipped away from them all, entered a passage behind his room, opened thewindow, threw himself into the court below, and dashed out his brainsupon the pavement. Such was the end of an ambitious man, who, by hiswild and dangerous passions, lost his wits, and then his life, a tragicvictim of himself. 

Madame de Bourgogne learnt the news at night. In public she showed noemotion, but in private some tears escaped her. They might have been ofpity, but were not so charitably interpreted. Soon after, it was noticedthat Madame de Maintenon seemed embarrassed and harsh towards Madame deBourgogne. It was no longer doubted that Madame de Maintenon had heardthe whole story. She often had long interviews with Madame de Bourgogne, who always left them in tears. Her sadness grew so much, and her eyeswere so often red, that Monsieur de Bourgogne at last became alarmed. But he had no suspicion of the truth, and was easily satisfied with theexplanation he received. Madame de Bourgogne felt the necessity, however, of appearing gayer, and showed herself so. As for the Abbe dePolignac, it was felt that that dangerous person was best away. Hereceived therefore a post which called him away, as it were, into exile;and though he delayed his departure as long as possible, was at lengthobliged to go. Madame de Bourgogne took leave of him in a manner thatshowed how much she was affected. Some rather insolent verses werewritten upon this event; and were found written on a balustrade byMadame, who was not discreet enough or good enough to forget them. Butthey made little noise; everybody loved Madame de Bourgogne, and hidthese verses as much as possible. 

CHAPTER XXXII

At the beginning of October, news reached the Court, which was atFontainebleau, that M. De Duras was at the point of death. Upon hearingthis, Madame de Saint-Simon and Madame de Lauzun, who were both relatedto M. Duras, wished to absent themselves from the Court performances thatwere to take place in the palace that evening. They expressed this wishto Madame de Bourgogne, who approved of it, but said she was afraid theKing would not do the same. He had been very angry lately because theladies had neglected to go full dressed to the Court performances. A fewwords he had spoken made everybody take good care not to rouse his angeron this point again. He expected so much accordingly from everybody whoattended the Court, that Madame de Bourgogne was afraid he would notconsent to dispense with the attendance of Madame de Saint-Simon andMadame de Lauzun on this occasion. They compromised the matter, therefore, by dressing themselves, going to the room where theperformance was held, and, under pretext of not finding places, goingaway; Madame de Bourgogne agreeing to explain their absence in this wayto the King. I notice this very insignificant bagatelle to show how theKing thought only of himself, and how much he wished to be obeyed; andthat that which would not have been pardoned to the nieces of a dyingman, except at the Court, was a duty there, and one which it needed greataddress to escape from, without seriously infringing the etiquetteestablished. 

After the return of the Court from Fontainebleau this year, Puysieux cameback from Switzerland, having been sent there as ambassador. Puysieuxwas a little fat man, very agreeable, pleasant, and witty, one of thebest fellows in the world, in fact. As he had much wit, and thoroughlyknew the King, he bethought himself of making the best of his position;and as his Majesty testified much friendship for him on his return, anddeclared himself satisfied with his mission in Switzerland, Puysieuxasked if what he heard was not mere compliment, and whether he couldcount upon it. As the King assured him that he might do so, Puysieuxassumed a brisk air, and said that he was not so sure of that, and thathe was not pleased with his Majesty. 

"And why not?" said the King. 

"Why not?" replied Puysieux; "why, because although the most honest manin your realm, you have not kept to a promise you made me more than fiftyyears ago. "

"What promise?" asked the King. 

"What promise, Sire?" said Puysieux; "you have a good memory, you cannothave forgotten it. Does not your Majesty remember that one day, havingthe honour to play at blindman's buff with you at my grandmother's, youput your cordon bleu on my back, the better to hide yourself; and thatwhen, after the game, I restored it to you, you promised to give it mewhen you became master; you have long been so, thoroughly master, andnevertheless that cordon bleu is still to come. "

The King, who recollected the circumstance, here burst out laughing, andtold Puysieux he was in the right, and that a chapter should be held onthe first day of the new year expressly for the purpose of receiving himinto the order. And so in fact it was, and Puysieux received the cordonbleu on the day the King had named. This fact is not important, but itis amusing. It is altogether singular in connection with a prince asserious and as imposing as Louis XIV. ; and it is one of those littleCourt anecdotes which are curious. 

Here is another more important fact, the consequences of which are stillfelt by the State. Pontchartrain, Secretary of State for the Navy, wasthe plague of it, as of all those who were under his cruel dependence. He was a man who, with some-amount of ability, was disagreeable andpedantic to an excess; who loved evil for its own sake; who was jealouseven of his father; who was a cruel tyrant towards his wife, a woman alldocility and goodness; who was in one word a monster, whom the King keptin office only because he feared him. An admiral was the abhorrence ofPontchartrain, and an admiral who was an illegitimate son of the King, he loathed. There was nothing, therefore, that he had not done duringthe war to thwart the Comte de Toulouse; he laid some obstacleseverywhere in his path; he had tried to keep him out of the command ofthe fleet, and failing this, had done everything to render the fleetuseless. 

These were bold strokes against a person the King so much loved, butPontchartrain knew the weak side of the King; he knew how to balance the, father against the master, to bring forward the admiral and set aside theson. In this manner the Secretary of State was able to put obstacles inthe way of the Comte de Toulouse that threw him almost into despair, andthe Count could do little to defend himself. It was a well-known fact atsea and in the ports where the ships touched, and it angered all thefleet. Pontchartrain accordingly was abhorred there, while the Comte deToulouse, by his amiability and other good qualities, was adored. 

At last, the annoyance he caused became so unendurable, that the Comte deToulouse, at the end of his cruise in the Mediterranean, returned toCourt and determined to expose the doings of Pontchartrain to the King. 

The very day he had made up his mind to do this, and just before heintended to have his interview with the King, Madame Pontchartrain, casting aside her natural timidity and modesty, came to him, and withtears in her eyes begged him not to bring about the ruin of her husband. The Comte de Toulouse was softened. He admitted afterwards that he couldnot resist the sweetness and sorrow of Madame de Pontchartrain, and thatall his resolutions, his weapons, fell from his hands at the thought ofthe sorrow which the poor woman would undergo, after the fall of herbrutal husband, left entirely in the hands of such a furious Cyclops. In this manner Pontchartrain was saved, but it cost dear to the State. The fear he was in of succumbing under the glory or under the vengeanceof an admiral who was son of the King determined him to ruin the fleetitself, so as to render it incapable of receiving the admiral again. He determined to do this, and kept to his word, as was afterwards onlytoo clearly verified by the facts. The Comte de Toulouse saw no moreeither ports or vessels, and from that time only very feeble squadronswent out, and even those very seldom. Pontchartrain, had the impudenceto boast of this before my face. 

When I last spoke of Madame des Ursins, I described her as living in themidst of the Court, flattered and caressed by all, and on the highestterms of favour with the King and Madame de Maintenon. She found herposition, indeed, so far above her hopes, that she began to waver in herintention of returning to Spain. The age and the health of Madame deMaintenon tempted her. She would have preferred to govern here ratherthan in Spain. Flattered by the attentions paid her, she thought thoseattentions, or, I may say, rather those servile adorations, wouldcontinue for ever, and that in time she might arrive at the highest pointof power. The Archbishop of Aix and her brother divined her thoughts, for she did not dare to avow them, and showed her in the clearest waythat those thoughts were calculated to lead her astray. They explainedto her that the only interest Madame de Maintenon had in favouring herwas on account of Spain. Madame des Ursins--once back in that country, Madame de Maintenon looked forward to a recommencement of those relationswhich had formerly existed between them, by which the government of Spainin appearance, if not in reality, passed through her hands. Theytherefore advised Madame des Ursins on no account to think of remainingin France, at the same time suggesting that it would not be amiss to stopthere long enough to cause some inquietude to Madame de Maintenon, so asto gain as much advantage as possible from it. 

The solidity of these reasons persuaded Madame des Ursins to follow theadvice given her. She resolved to depart, but not until after a delay bywhich she meant to profit to the utmost. We shall soon see what successattended her schemes. The terms upon which I stood with her enabled meto have knowledge of all the sentiments that had passed through her mind:her extreme desire, upon arriving in Paris, to return to Spain; theintoxication which seized her in consequence of the treatment shereceived, and which made her balance this desire; and her finalresolution. It was not until afterwards, however, that I learnt all thedetails I have just related. 

It was not long before Madame de Maintenon began to feel impatient at thelong-delayed departure of Madame des Ursins. She spoke at last upon thesubject, and pressed Madame des Ursins to set out for Spain. This wasjust what the other wanted. She said that as she had been driven out ofSpain like a criminal, she must go back with honour, if Madame deMaintenon wished her to gain the confidence and esteem of the Spaniards. That although she had been treated by the King with every considerationand goodness, many people in Spain were, and would be, ignorant of it, and that, therefore, her return to favour ought to be made known in aspublic and convincing a manner as was her disgrace. This was said withall that eloquence and persuasiveness for which Madame des Ursins wasremarkable. The effect of it exceeded her hopes. 

The favours she obtained were prodigious. Twenty thousand livres by wayof annual pension, and thirty thousand for her journey. One of herbrothers, M. De Noirmoutiers, blind since the age of eighteen or twenty, was made hereditary duke; another, the Abbe de la Tremoille, of exceedingbad life, and much despised in Rome, where he lived, was made cardinal. What a success was this! How many obstacles had to be overcome in orderto attain it! Yet this was what Madame des Ursins obtained, so anxiouswas Madame de Maintenon to get rid of her and to send her to reign inSpain, that she might reign there herself. Pleased and loaded withfavour as never subject was before, Madame des Ursins set out towards themiddle of July, and was nearly a month on the road. It may be imaginedwhat sort of a reception awaited her in Spain. The King and the Queenwent a day's journey out of Madrid to meet her. Here, then, we see againat the height of power this woman, whose fall the King but a short timesince had so ardently desired, and whose separation from the King andQueen of Spain he had applauded himself for bringing about with so muchtact. What a change in a few months!

The war continued this year, but without bringing any great success toour arms. Villars, at Circk, outmanoeuvred Marlborough in a manner thatwould have done credit to the greatest general. Marlborough, compelledto change the plan of campaign he had determined on, returned intoFlanders, where the Marechal de Villeroy was stationed with his forces. Nothing of importance occurred during the campaign, and the two armieswent into winter quarters at the end of October. 

I cannot quit Flanders without relating another instance of the pleasantmalignity of M. De Lauzun. In marrying a daughter of the Marechal deLorges, he had hoped, as I have already said, to return into theconfidence of the King by means of the Marechal, and so be againentrusted with military command. Finding these hopes frustrated, hethought of another means of reinstating himself in favour. He determinedto go to the waters of Aix-la-Chapelle, not, as may be believed, for hishealth, but in order to ingratiate himself with the important foreignerswhom he thought to find there, learn some of the enemy's plans, and comeback with an account of them to the King, who would, no doubt, reward himfor his zeal. But he was deceived in his calculation. Aix-la-Chapelle, generally so full of foreigners of rank, was this year, owing to the war, almost empty. M. De Lauzun found, therefore, nobody of consequence fromwhom he could obtain any useful information. Before his return, hevisited the Marechal de Villeroy, who received him with all militaryhonours, and conducted him all over the army, pointing out to him theenemy's post; for the two armies were then quite close to each other. His extreme anxiety, however, to get information, and the multitude ofhis questions, irritated the officers who were ordered to do the honoursto him; and, in going about, they actually, at their own risk, exposedhim often to be shot or taken. They did not know that his courage wasextreme; and were quite taken aback by his calmness, and, his evidentreadiness to push on even farther than they chose to venture. 

On returning to Court, M. De Lauzun was of course pressed by everybody torelate all he knew of the position of the two armies. But he heldhimself aloof from all questioners, and would not answer. On the dayafter his arrival he went to pay his court to Monseigneur, who did notlike him, but who also was no friend to the Marechal de Villeroy. Monseigneur put many questions to him upon the situation of the twoarmies, and upon the reasons which had prevented them from engaging eachother. M. De Lauzun shirked reply, like a man who wished to be pressed;did not deny that he had well inspected the position of the two armies, but instead of answering Monseigneur, dwelt upon the beauty of ourtroops, their gaiety at finding themselves so near an enemy, and theireagerness to fight. Pushed at last to the point at which he wished toarrive, "I will tell you, Monseigneur, " said he, "since you absolutelycommand me; I scanned most minutely the front of the two armies to theright and to the left, and all the ground between them. It is true thereis no brook, and that I saw; neither are there any ravines, nor hollowroads ascending or descending; but it is true that there were otherhindrances which I particularly remarked. "

"But what hindrance could there be, " said Monseigneur, "since there wasnothing between the two armies?"

M. De Lauzun allowed himself to be pressed upon this point, constantlyrepeating the list of hindrances that did not exist, but keeping silentupon the others. At last, driven into a corner, he took his snuff-boxfrom his pocket. 

"You see, " said he, to Monseigneur, "there is one thing which muchembarrasses the feet, the furze that grows upon the ground, where M. LeMarechal de Villeroy is encamped. The furze, it is true, is not mixedwith any other plant, either hard or thorny; but it is a high furze, ashigh, as high, let me see, what shall I say?"--and he looked all aroundto find some object of comparison--"as high, I assure you, as thissnuffbox!"

Monseigneur burst out laughing at this sally, and all the companyfollowed his example, in the midst of which M. De Lauzun turned on hisheel and left the room. His joke soon spread all over the Court and thetown, and in the evening was told to the King. This was all the thanksM. De Villeroy obtained from M. De Lauzun for the honours he had paidhim; and this was M. De Lauzun's consolation for his ill-success at Aix-la-Chapelle. 

In Italy our armies were not more successful than elsewhere. From timeto time, M. De Vendome attacked some unimportant post, and, havingcarried it, despatched couriers to the King, magnifying the importanceof the exploit. But the fact was, all these successes led to nothing. On one occasion, at Cassano, M. De Vendome was so vigorously attacked byPrince Louis of Baden that, in spite of his contempt and his audacity, he gave himself up for lost. When danger was most imminent, instead ofremaining at his post, he retired from the field of battle to a distantcountry-house, and began to consider how a retreat might be managed. The Grand Prieur, his brother, was in command under him, and was orderedto remain upon the field; but he was more intent upon saving his skinthan on obeying orders, and so, at the very outset of the fight, ran awayto a country-house hard by. M. De Vendome strangely enough had sat downto eat at the country-house whither he had retired, and was in the midstof his meal when news was brought him that, owing to the prodigiesperformed by one of his officers, Le Guerchois, the fortunes of the dayhad changed, and Prince Louis of Baden was retiring. M. Vendome hadgreat difficulty to believe this, but ordered his horse, mounted, and, pushing on, concluded the combat gloriously. He did not fail, of course, to claim all the honours of this victory, which in reality was a barrenone; and sent word of his triumph to the King. He dared to say that theloss of the enemy was more than thirteen thousand; and our loss less thanthree thousand--whereas, the loss was at least equal. This exploit, nevertheless, resounded at the Court and through the town as an advantagethe most complete and the most decisive, and due entirely to thevigilance, valour, and capacity of Vendome. Not a word was said of hiscountry-house, or the interrupted meal. These facts were only knownafter the return of the general officers. As for the Grand Prieur, hispoltroonery had been so public, his flight so disgraceful--for he hadtaken troops with him to protect the country-house in which he soughtshelter--that he could not be pardoned. The two brothers quarrelled uponthese points, and in the end the Grand Prieur was obliged to give up hiscommand. He retired to his house at Clichy, near Paris; but, tiring ofthat place, he went to Rome, made the acquaintance there of the Marquisede Richelieu, a wanderer like himself, and passed some time with her atGenoa. Leaving that city, he went to Chalons-sur-Saone, which had beenfixed upon as the place of his a exile, and there gave himself up to thedebaucheries in which he usually lived. From this time until the Regencywe shall see nothing more of him. I shall only add, therefore, that henever went sober to bed during thirty years, but was always carriedthither dead drunk: was a liar, swindler, and thief; a rogue to themarrow of his bones, rotted with vile diseases; the most contemptible andyet most dangerous fellow in the world. 

One day-I am speaking of a time many years previous to the date of theoccurrences just related-one day there was a great hunting party at SaintGermain. The chase was pursued so long, that the King gave up, andreturned to Saint Germain. A number of courtiers, among whom was M. DeLauzun, who related this story to me, continued their sport; and just asdarkness was coming on, discovered that they had lost their way. After atime, they espied a light, by which they guided their steps, and atlength reached the door of a kind of castle. They knocked, they calledaloud, they named themselves, and asked for hospitality. It was thenbetween ten and eleven at night, and towards the end of autumn. The doorwas opened to them. The master of the house came forth. He made themtake their boots off, and warm themselves; he put their horses into hisstables; and at the same time had a supper prepared for his guests, whostood much in need of it. They did not wait long for the meal; yet whenserved it proved excellent; the wines served with it, too, were ofseveral kinds, and excellent likewise: as for the master of the house, hewas so polite and respectful, yet without being ceremonious or eager, ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

His great piety contributed to weaken his mindOf a politeness that was unendurableReproaches rarely succeed in loveSpoil all by asking too muchTeacher lost little, because he had little to loseThere was no end to the outrageous civilities of M. De Coislin