corn:&^ll 
 university 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
Cornell University Library 
 DC 131 .9.C91 1904 
 
 The French noblesse of 'he .Xy]", fentufy. 
 
 3 1924 022 781 383 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022781383 
 
THE FRENCH NOBLESSE OF THE 
 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 
 
THE FRENCH NOBLESSE 
 OF THE XVni CENTURY 
 
 TRANSLATED BY MRS. COLQUHOUN GRANT 
 FROM LES SOUVENIRS DE LA 
 MARQUISE DE CREQUY, 1834 
 
 */*v» 
 
 NEW YORK 
 E. p. BUTTON & CO. 
 
 31 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET 
 VI904 <^ 
 
 A'- 
 
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PREFACE 
 
 I ASK the indulgence of my readers for putting 
 before them a translation of those portions of 
 Les Souvenirs de la Marquise de Crdquy which 
 appear now to be of greatest interest. The book 
 is now nearly forgotten, yet it is full of quaint stories 
 and clever descriptions of eighteenth-century life ip 
 France. The Memoirs are not from the pen of the 
 supposed author. Portions of the first part were 
 possibly written by the Marquise herself — indeed, 
 they bear the impress of a woman's hand. The 
 latter part seems to have been written by__M^ 
 Cousin, Comte__de__iZQurchajnps, as he alleged, 
 from her dictation or with her permission. 
 
 In 1834, some years after the death of the 
 Marquise, these Memoirs were published by this 
 French nobleman in seven volumes (Querard, 
 Supercheries Littiraires, s.v., Edition i86g). The 
 work was eagerly read in France. Its vivid 
 descriptions of the great world before the Re- 
 volution, and its amusing anecdotes, attracted many 
 readers, who had seen or heard their fathers 
 speak of the wonderful events of those stirring 
 times. Another edition was published in Paris in 
 
vi PREFACE 
 
 1840-41, this time divided into ten volumes, with 
 some additions. 
 
 Few in these days care to wade through the 
 interminable Memoirs which delighted our ancestors. 
 Out of these seven volumes I have attempted 
 to put together those passages which seem most 
 likely to be of present interest from their graphic 
 afccount of the brilliant circle in which Madame 
 de Cr^quy lived through her long and strangely 
 varied career. 
 
 The story of Victoire Rende Caroline de Froulay, 
 Marquise de Cr^quy, as here related, is as follows : 
 Born early in the eighteenth century, she was 
 the only daughter of the Marquis de Froulay, 
 a nobleman of Brittany. Her mother having 
 died at her birth, she was brought up by her 
 father's sister, the Abbesse de Montivilliers, who 
 ruled over one of the most aristocratic and exclusive 
 religious houses in France. Through the death 
 of her brother the Marquis de Montflaux, she 
 became the heiress to a large estate. 
 
 At a very early age, as was then the custom, 
 she was taken to Paris, to be introduced into the 
 great world which circled round the Court, and 
 into which she had the entrde by right of birth. 
 She resided in Paris at first with her great-aunt 
 de Breteuil, mother of Emilie de Breteuil, after- 
 wards Marquise de Chitelet, and well known for 
 her connection with Voltaire. She was married 
 while still very young to the Marquis de Cr^quy 
 de Canaples, a nobleman with little wealth but of 
 
PREFACE 
 
 VI 1 
 
 long and illustrious lineage. Two sons were born 
 to them, only one of whom lived to grow up, and 
 became the father of Tancrede Raoul, Prince de 
 Montlaur, for whom these Memoirs are supposed 
 to be written. Known as one of the wittiest 
 women of the day, her salon was thronged with 
 the most brilliant people of her time. Madame de 
 Cr^quy was one of the few df her class who 
 survived the horrors of the Reign of Terror, and 
 lived to see Napoleon Buonaparte First Consul. 
 The chief points to be noted in her character 
 were her love for her Church, her contempt 
 for Talleyrand (which found vent in the tirade 
 against that apostate bishop), her hatred of the 
 Dues d'Orleans, and her undying devotion to her 
 sovereigns, to three of whom she was personally 
 known. 
 
 The true history of Madame de Cr^quy is 
 different. On the authority of Aubert La Chenaye 
 des Bois {Historical Peerage)) Rende Charlotte 
 de Froulay,^ daughter of Philippe Charles de 
 Froulay, was born in 1715. She married, in 1737, 
 the Comte de Heymont, who, according to Croker, 
 died in 1741, before succeeding to the Marquisate 
 de Crequy de Canaples. She had three brothers, 
 the eldest of whom, the Marquis de Montflaux, 
 died in 1747, leaving a widow. Her two younger 
 brothers died unmarried in 1743. 
 
 The historical facts are so different from the 
 story given in the Memoirs, and were so easily 
 
 ' So called in the Historical Peerage without the name of Victoire 
 
VIU 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 accessible, that it is difficult to suppose that the 
 compiler could have expected to pass them off 
 as genuine. They represent a mass of almost 
 contemporary tradition, reminiscence, and anecdote, 
 gathered round the name of a leader of society, 
 renowned for her charm and wit. But the author 
 may, I think, take rank as a very clever writer, 
 with an immense knowledge of his subject. In- 
 deed, had he invented the whole of this work, he 
 would have been almost a genius. These exhaustive 
 Memoirs are full of interesting details that could 
 only have been collected by one who was writing 
 from personal information, and close to the period 
 described. 
 
 Whoever it was who compiled the Souvenirs 
 had a keen insight into the workings of the 
 hearts of these old aristocrats who surrounded 
 the throne of France, and who by their inordinate 
 pride and extravagance were in some measure the 
 cause of its downfall, but who paid so dearly 
 with their own lives in the indiscriminate slaughter 
 of the Revolution of 1793. 
 
 When the book was first published a fierce attack 
 was made on it in England, and its authenticity 
 was denied. Mr. Croker wrote an article in the 
 Quarterly Review of 1834, pointing out the in- 
 accuracies, and questioning the veracity of the 
 statements contained in it ; but the article was so 
 virulent and sweeping that it causes us to wonder 
 why these French Memoirs should have raised 
 such an angry discussion in another country. 
 
PREFACE ix 
 
 The French people apparently did not take 
 the same view. They were willing to enjoy 
 the story of events that had taken place in their 
 own land during nearly a century without troubling 
 themselves greatly as to whose hand had held 
 the pen. But they were near enough to the events 
 which are described to judge whether the picture 
 was true to the spirit of the times, and the avidity 
 with which the Memoirs were read shows that 
 they accepted it as faithful. A work, thus stamped 
 by contemporaries as substantially accurate, cannot 
 lose its value for posterity. 
 
 In the hope that these pages may at least amuse 
 some, and recall historical facts to others, I have 
 attempted to translate and put into a connected 
 whole portions of these old Memoirs, under the 
 title of The French Noblesse of the Eighteenth 
 Century. 
 
 C G. 
 
 DiNARD, 
 
 March, 1904. 
 
TO MY GRANDSON TANCRfeDE RAOUL 
 DE CRl^QUY, PRINCE DE MONTLAUR 
 
 IT is for you, my dear child, that I have compiled 
 these Memoirs, and I have also bequeathed 
 to you all papers that may be found at my death. 
 If I continue writing, they will amount to many 
 volumes. Publish them, if you wish, it will not 
 cause me any annoyance, because I know that I 
 have written nothing but what is true, and truth, 
 it seems to me, should always be made known. 
 
 You are the last of your house, dear child, and 
 so are doubly precious to us. 
 
 Your father is perpetually occupied with the cares 
 of his regiment and his duties as Grand Officer 
 of " Madame." Your mother's health is so deplor- 
 able that it is feared she will never be equal to 
 the task of undertaking your education, which she 
 would otherwise have rejoiced in doing, and which 
 I also deeply desired. I am already very old, and 
 not in much better health than my daughter-in- 
 law. Any day, therefore, I may fail you. So 
 while I have some strength left, I want to let you 
 profit by my experience of the world by collecting 
 and writing down these observations and ' memories 
 of people of my day. 
 
 You may rest assured that I have performed 
 this task conscientiously. 
 
 I consider it unnecessary to recommend you to 
 
TO MY GRANDSON xi 
 
 be faithful to the King. It is an obligation which 
 you already realise, a feeling of loyalty which was 
 born in you. But what I do recommend you is 
 submission to your sovereigns, because then you 
 will run no risk of failing in duty towards them — a 
 failing which might arise among the many political 
 difficulties which I see looming on your horizon. 
 
 Also I recommend you to respect Princes of 
 the Royal Blood as long as their conduct is not 
 culpable or scandalous. Then it is the right of 
 the nobility to inflict on them the punishment of 
 contempt which, under such circumstances, they fully 
 deserve. 
 
 And what, my dear grandson, I recommend you 
 above all other things, is to hold the Christian 
 religion, the Catholic faith, without wavering. You 
 may be certain that incredulous people are ignorant, 
 and unbelievers vicious. It is invariably a bad 
 reason which tempts a man to say he does not 
 believe in religion. This, however, must not be 
 confounded with the sin of neglecting the rites of 
 your Church. 
 
 The pleasures of youth, or the madness of 
 passion, may draw you away temporarily from 
 your religious duty, but do not let this be an 
 opportunity to allow yourself to be blinded by- 
 philosophy or the teaching of the sceptic. Let'^ 
 no thief into the sanctuary of your conscience, or 
 among the treasures of your faith. 
 
 It is well known that the French are a vain 
 people, and one of the things they boast of is that 
 they are never inconsistent. As soon as a young 
 man finds himself involved in love affairs, he ceases 
 
xii TO MY GRANDSON 
 
 to say his prayers ; and when a woman is unfaithful 
 to her husband, she tries to lose all faith in God. 
 In Spain and Italy, I imagine, people sin quite 
 as much as they do in France, but it does not 
 cause them to cast away all religion, and as long 
 as we hold to our faith we have a remedy left, and 
 the morality of the whole life is not destroyed. 
 
 The fire of passion soon dies away in the human 
 heart, and leaves it cold and empty ; the love of 
 God alone can fill and satisfy it. This, most 
 assuredly, you will discover for yourself some day, 
 and if you do not allow your mind to be corrupted, 
 or your belief to be troubled, you will not be 
 altogether drawn away from the right path. 
 
 In these countries that I speak of, the sins of 
 youth do not entirely destroy belief, and you rarely 
 hear of a dissolute old man or an irreligious old 
 woman — two classes of persons which always fill 
 me with abhorrence, and are only too frequently 
 to be met with in our French society. 
 
 If ever you find yourself in imminent peril, appeal 
 for protection to your august and sainted ancestor 
 the King Saint Louis, from whom you have the 
 honour of being directly descended, through 
 your great-great-grandmother Jeanne de Bourbon 
 Vend6me. To her also you owe the greater part 
 of your large fortune, besides which she left us 
 a rich treasure of good example. 
 
 You are hardly at an age, my dear prince, to 
 benefit by these observations, but later in life you 
 will accept them as a proof of the tender affection 
 of your grandmother, 
 
 ViCTOIRE DE FrOULAV, MarQUISE DE CrEQUV. 
 
PAGE 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 Birth of Victoire de Froulay — Her Education — The Family of her 
 Father — A Royal Abbey — A Benedictine Abbess — The 
 Crippled Assassin — Mile, de Houli^res — The Beast of Crer- 
 vaudan — The Chateau of Martainville — A Mystification — 
 Unfortunate Result — A Pilgrimage to Mont St. Michel . . i 
 
 CHAPTER n 
 
 Death of the Marquis de Montflaux, Brother of Victoire— r 
 Etiquette of Mourning — Journey to Paris — First Interview 
 with the Count de Froulay, her Father — Hotel de Breteuil — 
 Description of the Various Members of the Family — Milord 
 Marfichal — First Dispute with Voltaire — M. de Fontenelle — 
 The Old Due de St. Simon — ^Jean-Baptiste Rousseau — Visit 
 to St. Cyr — The King — Madame de Maintenon — God save 
 the King 29 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 Cartouche in Paris — The Cardinal de Gfevres — The Duchesse de 
 la Fert6, and her Views on Astronomy — The Governor of 
 Paris — The Marquise de Beauffremont and Cartouche- 
 Gallantry of Louis XIV. to the Authoress — Same Politeness 
 from Buonaparte Eighty-five Years later — The Regent's 
 Mother — Her German Dishes — The Learned Dog and 
 Madame d'Elboeuf — Death of the King, Louis XIV. — Louis 
 XV. — Madame de Saulx — Chevalier St. George — First Inter- 
 view with M. de Cr6quy — Visit to the Duchesse de Les- 
 digui^res — Marriage of Victoire de Froulay .... 54 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Young Arouet — The Duchesse de Berry, Daughter of the Regent 
 — Madame de Parab^re — Comte Antoine de Horn — His 
 Arrest and Trial — Petition to the Regent — His Terrible Fate 
 
xiv CONTENTS 
 
 PICE 
 
 — Mile, de Qiiinaut — Mile, de Vertiis — The Legacy — Resigna- 
 tion of the Marquis de Cr6quy — The Princesse de Monaco 
 — M. de Matignon, Bishop of Lisieux— His Sayings . 8i 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 The Court of Modena — Visit to Rome — The Court of the Stuarts 
 — The Arms of England — Adventure of the Abb6 de Beau- 
 mont—Return of the de CrSquys to France— Massillon's 
 Sermons — Death of the Regent — Birth of the Authoress's 
 Sons — An Eighteenth-century Pilgrimage — Madame de Mar- 
 san — Madame du Deffand — The Marechale de Noailles — Her 
 Letters to the Virgin — The Comtesse d'Egmont — The Family 
 of the Mar^chal de Richelieu — The Comte de Gisors — Court 
 Etiquette — Banquet at Versailles — Tragic Love Story of 
 Madame d'Egmont — Sfiverin de Guys — Comtesse d'Egmont's 
 Death ... 102 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 Death of the Marquis de Cr6quy — Visit to Madame de Pompa- 
 dour — The Due d'Orleans — Comtesse de Blot's Strange 
 Affectations — Her Pet Dog — True History of the Iron Mask 
 — Horrible Tragedy in the Rue Basse — Arrest of Comte de 
 Sade — Duchesse de Mazarin — Her Famous File Champltre 
 — Madame GeoiTrin, the Manufacturer's Wife — Conversation 
 with Walpole — Madame de Boccage — Fontenelle's Opinion 
 of Her 127 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 Birth of tlie Due de Berry — Ominous Forebodings — Details on 
 Titles in France — Presentations to the King and Queen — 
 Rules and Regulations — Voltaire — The Origin of his Name 
 and Fortune — His Letter to Madame de Crfiquy — Letter of 
 the Marquis de Crfiquy to his Mother after a Visit to Ferney 146 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Marechal de Richelieu meditates Matrimony for the Third Time 
 — Digression to Modern Cookery — Wine of Bordeaux in- 
 troduced by Richelieu — Due de Nivernais' Solicitude for the 
 Art of Cookery — Dinner given by Richelieu during the War 
 with Hanover — Menu composed by Him — Visit of the Author 
 to the Death-bed of Richelieu — Jean-Jacques Rousseavi — 
 Th6r6se Levasseur — The Two Capons and the Secret . .156 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 Page 
 The Chevalier de Crequy — His Friend the Miser — A Country 
 
 Visit in 1760 — State of the House — Ridiculous Supper — De- 
 scription of Marie Antoinette — Banquet in Honour of the 
 Dauphin's Marriage — Paris in 1770 — Disastrous Public Fete 
 — ^Adventure of Madame de Crequy — Fortunate Escape — 
 Comtesse du Barry at the Review — Return of Maurepas — 
 Madame de Maurepas and her Old Furniture — The In- 
 habitants of the Isle of St. Louis — Meeting Franklin at a 
 Dinner Party — Remarks on the Philosopher , . . .170 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 M. Necker and M. Thelusson — Madame Necker {nee Curchod) — 
 Her Pruderies and Affectations — The Necker Hospital — 
 Episode of the Baron de Peyrusse — Mile. Necker's Mar- 
 riage — Madame de Sta61 and Benjamin Constant — Meeting 
 at the H5tel de Breteuil — Genevieve Galliot and the Prince 
 de Lamballe — The Portrait by Greuze — The Secret Marriage 
 — Machinations of the Due de Chartres — ^Madame de Saint- 
 Pagr — Her Suicide and Death — Noble Conduct of the Due 
 de Penthifevre — M. de Lamballe's Second Marriage — His 
 Death — Fate of the Princesse de Lamballe . . . . igr 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 Voltaire's Return te Paris — The de Villette's House — Voltaire's 
 Outrageous Behaviour — His Illness and Desire for Con- 
 fession — His Visit to the Theatre — The Laurel Wreath — His 
 Correspondence with the Cur6 of Saint-Sulpice — His 
 Hypocrisy — His Death — His Funeral 214 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 Jean-Jacques Rousseau at Ermenonville — His Letter to Madame 
 de Crequy — Her Reply — Marquis de Girardin — Rousseau's 
 Death — His Tomb— M. Turgot — Sage and his System of 
 Resurrection — Doctor Dufour — Mesmer and Mesmerism — 
 The Somnambulist — Nightmare of the Duchess of Devon- 
 shire — Fashions for Men, for Women — ^New Style of Furni- 
 ture — Hair-dressing — Coiffure of the Duchesse de Luynes — 
 The "Simple and Natural" a la Mode — Treatment of In- 
 fants — Children improperly Fed — Visit from the Children of 
 Princesse de Montbarry 236 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 PACE 
 
 October 5tli and 6th — Anecdote about Loto as a Game for 
 Mourning — Arrival of the Mob— Attack on the Castle of 
 Versailles — Massacre of the Guard — Return of the Royal 
 Family to Paris — Charles de Bourbon-Montmorency-Cr6quy 
 — Letter from Lafayette — Absurd Accusations — Madame de 
 Cr^quy's Opinion of Talleyrand — Visit to Robespierre — 
 Trial of Nicholas Bezuchet, the Impostor — Failure of his 
 False Claim — Madame de CrSquy is ordered to appear before 
 the Tribunal — Placed in Arrest in her own House — Im- 
 prisonment at Ste. Pelagie or Elsewhere, the Exact Place 
 Unknown .... 259 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 The Abb6 Dampierre — First Imprisonment of Madame de Cr6quy 
 — Removal to the Luxembourg — Room Inmates — Anecdotes 
 of Prison Life — Removal to Sainte-P^lagie — Madame du 
 Barry — Her Death — Visit from Madame Roland — Her Death 
 — The Prison of " des Oiseaux " — Abb6 Texier and the Con- 
 solations of the Church — Divinations of a Disciple of 
 Cagliostro — Madame de Beauhamais — Death of General 
 Beauharnais — Safety of Abb6 Dampierre, Grand Vicaire — 
 Famine in Prison — Death of the Due de Penthi^vre — The 
 Height of the Terror — Massacre at Bicfitre — Slaughter of the 
 Dogs — A Civic Procession — Madame de Cr6quy led out for 
 Execution — A Strange Reprieve — She is set at Liberty . 279 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 Return to the Hdtel de Cr6quy-4solation and Sadness — The 
 New Directoire — State of Paris — A Few Words aboiit the 
 Vendue — Chevalier de Charette — Abuses of the Du-ectoire — 
 Costumes of the Period — Rage for the Antique — The Salons 
 of the Quartier d'Antin — Want of Manners of the Parvenus 
 — Death of Madame de Criiquy's Grandson — \'isit to the 
 Tuileries — Interview witli Napoleon Buonaparte . 304 
 

 THE FRENCH NOBLESSE 
 OF THE XVIII CENTURY 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 Birth of Victoire de Froulay — Her Education — The Family of her Father 
 — A Royal Abbey — A Benedictine Abbess — The Crippled Assassin 
 — Mile, de Houliferes — The Beast of Gervaudan — The Chateau of 
 Martainville — A Mystification — Unfortunate Result — A Pilgrimage 
 to Mont St. Michel. 
 
 IF I did not fear to cast ridicule over a life which 
 was spent not without dignity, I ought to 
 begin these memoirs by telling you I do not know 
 when I was born. It seems incredible, but it 
 was so. 
 
 My mother died at my birth, and as at the time 
 my father was on the German frontier, at the head 
 of his regiment, you may imagine the state of 
 trouble and confusion that reigned in the Castle 
 of Montflaux ; there were other things to be 
 thought of than the registration of my birth at 
 the parish sacristy. In fact, in those days, and 
 even forty years later, there was no regular register. 
 The vicar would inscribe a birth on a loose sheet 
 of paper, and if the relations came to ask for a 
 baptismal certificate, he sometimes gave away the 
 
2 CHILDHOOD [CHAP. I 
 
 original, to save himself the trouble of writing it 
 out again. 
 
 I suppose my mother's chaplain took the trouble 
 to baptise me, but as he died the following year, 
 it was never known for certain. Consequently, 
 when I was placed under the care of my aunt 
 the Coadjutrice de Cordylon, at the age of eight 
 or nine, she had me baptised conditionally. 
 
 It had been arranged that our cousin the 
 Princesse des Ursins should be my godmother, 
 but whether that intention was ever carried out, 
 I never knew. I must also tell you that the old 
 steward was struck down with paralysis a few days 
 before my birth, so he was useless for all family 
 business. My father was for seventeen months 
 without any news of his family or his friends, as 
 he was taken prisoner. He only heard of my 
 poor mother's death on his arrival at Versailles, 
 where his uncle the Mardchal de Tess6 met him 
 with the news, and advised him to go into mourn- 
 ing My birth was supposed to have taken place 
 in the early days of the eighteenth century. My 
 father always declared it was of no importance, as 
 I was only a girl ! All that I can remember of 
 my earlier youth was that I lived in a turret of 
 the castle at Montflaux, where it was always cold 
 in winter and hot in summer, in charge of two 
 waiting-women and an old one-eyed man-servant, 
 of whom I had a perfect dread, so much so that 
 at last he was forbidden to enter my room. My 
 father's steward took it into his head to replace 
 
HER FATHER'S FAMILY 3 
 
 him by a mulatto. This man terrified me still more ; 
 indeed, I really believe the steward wished to 
 hasten my end by juvenile convulsions, which 
 would have been to the benefit of my brother, 
 whom, however, as it turned out, 1 survived, and 
 became the heiress. It was a case of " Man 
 proposes, and God disposes." 
 
 My family at that time consisted of this aunt, 
 who was my father's only sister, and her four 
 brothers — M. I'Ev^que du Mans, who was a good 
 and saintly prelate ; the Commandant Bailli de 
 Froulay, a valorous naval officer ; the Abbe Com- 
 mendataire de Notre Dame and Almoner of the 
 King ; and another Abbd de Froulay, Comte de 
 Lyon, who died young, of whom I can tell you 
 nothing except that he did not like " limandes," 
 a thin kind of fish. He said one day to my grand- 
 mother, in a tone of the deepest disgust, " You 
 may be sure if there was nothing in the world but 
 a ' limande ' and myself, there would soon be an 
 end of the world." 
 
 My aunt the coadjutrice was the youngest of 
 the family, and one of the best and most charming 
 people imaginable, besides being one of the most 
 religious and strict nuns of the order of Saint 
 Benoit. 
 
 My father only concerned himself about my 
 brother the Marquis de Montflaux ; not that I 
 mean he concerned himself so very much about 
 him either. Our grandmother the Dowager 
 Marquise de Froulay, second wife of my grand- 
 
4 A ROYAL ABBEY [chap, i 
 
 father, was still alive. She, however, lived in Paris, 
 and I never knew her till the time of my marriage. 
 
 I will not speak now of the elder branch of our 
 house, because the Mar^chal de Tess6, his wife 
 and sons, never left Versailles, unless it was to 
 attend the Court at Fontainebleau. 
 
 I first saw my brother at the Abbey of Monti- 
 villiers. He arrived in a splendid equipage, with 
 a numerous retinue, and was a good-looking young 
 man with a self-satisfied air. He resembled greatly 
 that fine statue of the " Pasteur de Coustou," 
 which stands at the corner of the terrace over- 
 looking the Seine, near the gate leading into 
 the flower garden of the Tuileries. It might 
 have been modelled from him, as if the sculptor, 
 by prescience, had foreseen the likeness. 
 
 At last I realised that I had a brother, and a 
 very charming one. 1 was so overjoyed at seeing 
 him that I devoured him with my eyes, which filled 
 with tears. I remember he asked me my age, and 
 when I said I did not know, he did not appear 
 to believe me. 
 
 He stayed ten days at the abbey, as he had 
 come to assist at the consecration of my aunt. 
 Our uncle du Mans came to consecrate his sister, 
 and I took part in the ceremony by carrying the 
 missal of Madame, on a square of violet satin. 
 My brother gave me a proof of the kindness of 
 his heart by assuring me that if I did not wish 
 to become a Benedictine nun, he would never 
 force my inclination. 
 
THE ABBESSE DE MONTIVILLIER'S S 
 
 " Alas," I replied, " if I were compelled to 
 become a Bernardine, it would break my heart. 
 There is no order to compare with Saint Benoit, 
 and I never wish to enter any othei"." 
 
 " I was not thinking of that," he replied. " I 
 thought perhaps you would like to get married ? " 
 
 This idea, at the time, seemed to me absurd, 
 but all the same, it often returned to my mind. 
 
 I expect that during my brother's life many 
 members of the family would have been pleased 
 to see me take the veil, but they had to reckon 
 with my aunt .the abbess and my uncle the 
 bishop, who both highly disapproved of young 
 girls being forced into religious orders against 
 their will. Indeed, my aunt assisted a pretty 
 novice to leave her convent, and gave her a suffi- 
 cient fortune to marry an officer of the Light 
 Horse, as they were dying of love for each other. 
 
 She was one of our relations, Mile, de 
 Charette. She and her fiancd were nephew and 
 niece of the Baronne de Montmorency, who shut 
 up the poor girl in a convent to punish her for 
 wanting to marry her first cousin, solely because 
 he was only a younger son. 
 
 There had been no Abbesse de Montivilliers for 
 some years, and my aunt had many abuses to 
 repress, and order to maintain inside, as well as 
 to defend her monastic rights outside. As she 
 did not wish for the responsibility of ordinary 
 boarders, she only admitted relations, and my 
 companions were the daughters of the Due 
 
6 A BENEDICTINE ABBESS [chap, i 
 
 d'Harcourt. The eldest was Mile, de Beuvron, 
 the younger Mile, de Ch^tellerault. There were 
 also a number of Miles. d'Houdetdt, all dressed 
 alike in serge of the same colour, who always 
 stood in a row as if they were the pipes of an 
 organ. They were educated there out of charity, 
 and were all extremely stupid, though very proud. 
 They were not admitted into " Madame's " inner 
 circle, so there was no intimacy between us. They 
 were supposed to spend hours daily counting each 
 other's freckles. 
 
 My aunt had me instructed in religion and 
 sacred and profane history, in ordinary theology, 
 which was considered a safeguard against the 
 doctrines of Jansenism, geography, of course, also 
 mythology. I had an excellent memory, and a 
 fair amount of application. I wished to follow my 
 aunt's example, and learn Latin, but it was not 
 considered advisable, for fear I should get the 
 reputation of being a blue stocking. As to Greek, 
 I learnt enough to study the roots of words, and 
 I strongly advise you not to waste your time over 
 this dead language, I was also ambitious to learn 
 to decipher old writings, and used to spend hours 
 in the library poring over old documents. 
 
 I remember that in the chapel, where former 
 abbesses had been interred, were two beautiful lamps 
 of chased gold, incrusted with precious stones, one 
 only of which was kept alight. As I always wanted 
 to know the meaning of everything, by studying 
 the old inscriptions I discovered that one of these 
 
AMONG THE TOMBS 7 
 
 lamps had been endowed in 1200 with an annual 
 sum from corn to keep it alight, while the other, 
 of the date 1550, having been endowed with the 
 current coin of the period, had practically nothing 
 left to keep it up. I often used to go and pray 
 and meditate in this chapel, in the midst of the 
 tombs of the noble and pious women to whom 
 my aunt was a worthy successor. I would stay 
 for hours, often in the twilight, with no sentiment 
 of fear — I seemed to be among my own family. 
 
 "You are an extraordinary child," said the 
 abbess ; " how can you stay so late and so quietly 
 in these vaults ? " 
 
 " Why should I fear these sainted souls ? and 
 what do you expect these abbesses would do to 
 me, save give me their benediction ? " I would 
 reply ; " and I do not believe the story the eldest 
 Houdetdt told me, that she received a blow from 
 the crosier." 
 
 "A blow from whom?" 
 
 " From Madame de Gonzague — one day when 
 she approached her tomb." 
 
 " This is a further proof of the stupidity of 
 Mile. d'Houdetot," replied my aunt, "for that 
 statue has no crosier in its hand. If it had 
 thrown the breviary at the girl, it would not 
 have been surprising. She is an idiot and a 
 story-teller, and t beg you to have nothing to 
 do with her." 
 
 There was a black marble sarcophagus standing 
 alone in the centre of the chapel, on three raised 
 
8 AN ABBESS' RING [chap, i 
 
 steps. Upon it was a recumbent figure, supposed 
 to have been the work of Jean Goujon, the famous 
 sculptor, repsesenting a young abbess of the 
 family of Montgomery. She died at the age of 
 nineteen. Her epitaph was as follows : " She 
 was unhappy, and persecuted by those whom she 
 loaded with benefits, and who knew the goodness 
 of her heart. Pray for her enemies." The 
 sculptor had placed an amethyst ring on the 
 middle finger of the right hand, as the abbatical 
 sign, and some further stones were set in her 
 pastoral cross. Her gold crosier was held by a 
 veiled marble angel who stood behind her. The 
 face and hands were of white marble, but all the 
 draperies were of black marble. A cushion of 
 porphyry was under her head, ornamented with an 
 arabesque and tassels of gold. For this statue I 
 had a great affection, and I never left the chapel 
 without kissing her hand. One evening I fancied 
 that I felt the ring move under my lips ; to make 
 sure of the safety of the amethyst, I took hold 
 of it, and the ring came away in my hand. At 
 that moment I heard the sound of some one 
 coming into the chapel. It was only an old nun 
 coming to say her prayers beside one of the tombs ; 
 but as any explanation might have caused a scandal, 
 I carried away the ring with me. My aunt, to 
 whom I showed it at once, ordered me to restore 
 it to its place ; but I was so distressed, and argued 
 with her, that, after all, fragments of the saints had 
 often been distributed to the faithful, and I was 
 
TREASURES OF THE ABBEY 9 
 
 so logical and so coaxing, that Madame de Froulay 
 finally allowed me to keep the ring, on the under- 
 standing that I was to replace it by one exactly 
 similar bought out of my own pocket-money. 
 When the new ring arrived from Rouen, where 
 my aunt had taken the precaution of having it 
 blessed by the archbishop, she took care to have 
 it fastened in such a manner it could never get 
 loose again, and she ordered the gates of the 
 chapel to be closed, and forbade me to return there, 
 on the plea that I might take cold! 
 
 In the sacristy of the abbey a considerable 
 amount of treasure was stored — sacred reliquaries, 
 manuscripts, jewels, and vestments of great value. 
 When I sorrowfully inquired in later "years what 
 had become of these things during the Revolution, I 
 learned with surprise that the people of the country 
 had taken good care to destroy nothing. They 
 divided these riches among themselves, having 
 carefully hidden them from the authorities, and then 
 despatched them to the Spanish and Portuguese 
 colonies, where they fetched a large price. 
 
 In no other province of France could such an 
 arrangement have been carried out ; elsewhere 
 everything was ruthlessly destroyed without regard 
 to the owners or to the spoilers. The English 
 did precisely the same thing at the time of their 
 pretended religious reformation. They also saved 
 the sacred images and ornaments of any value, 
 and sent them to Spain and Italy to be sold. The 
 people of Normandy are in comparison to the 
 
10 A CRIPPLED BEGGAR [chap, i 
 
 rest of France what the English are to other 
 Europeans. They are filled with a spirit of 
 greed and a love of profit which render them 
 absolutely intolerable. You may say what you like 
 of the benefits of commerce and the genius for 
 business, but I think they are loathsome charac- 
 teristics. I prefer a hundred times to hear of 
 pillage and destruction, brought about by violence 
 and blind ignorance, than sacrilege, the result of 
 mercantile calculations. 
 
 I always used to say to M. de Turgot that 
 Joseph sold by his brethren was the first example 
 and model of all commercial transactions.^ 
 
 The door-keepers of the abbey had granted per- 
 mission to a beggar to shelter himself at night 
 in a casemate of the archway at the entrance of 
 the outer court. The poor fellow had neither 
 arms nor legs, and a young and rather good- 
 looking woman used to fetch him every morning 
 in a sort of barrow, and convey him to the high 
 road where he solicited alms. 
 
 A great panic had arisen in that part of the 
 country, owing to two murders with robbery 
 having been committed on the highway. The 
 tribunal of the abbess had failed to discover the 
 perpetrators. Warnings were posted up, urging 
 the people to give information ; but the Norman 
 peasant, though dreadfully afraid of robbers, is 
 the last person to assist in their capture, having 
 
 ' The Marquise had forgotten the purcliase of the Cave of Machpelah 
 by Abraham — Gen. xxiii. i6. 
 
AN ATTEMPTED MURDER ii 
 
 a wholesome fear of their future vengeance, and 
 not one of them would consent even to join the 
 nightly patrols. A guard was therefore sent from 
 Rouen to protect the convent, which turned out 
 unfortunately for Mile. d'Houdetot, for she fell 
 violently in love with the commandant, so much 
 so that she had to be sent away to her parents. 
 
 One evening, soon after ten o'clock, it was found 
 that the cripple had not returned to his shelter. 
 The porter concluded that the woman had neglected 
 to bring him back, and charitably determined to 
 wait till half-past ten. The sister-cellarer was in 
 the habit of carrying the keys to the prioress, who 
 slept with them under her pillow.^ Instead of 
 the key she was waiting for, the sister was greeted 
 with the news that a rich farmer had been attacked, 
 but had overpowered his would-be assassin, who, 
 with his accomplice, was being brought in by the 
 guards, who begged admittance for their prisoners 
 and shelter for the farmer, in case any more of 
 the gang were about. The prioress replied that 
 it was too late, but the abbess, on being appealed 
 to, ordered the gate of the outer court to be opened. 
 The old nun obstinately held to her view, and 
 quoted the rules of the order, till my aunt was 
 obliged to take the keys from her almost by force. 
 
 ' I must mention by the way, that the prioress had had the arms of 
 her family enamelled on her pastoral staff, with the motto " All is dyed 
 in blood." My aunt the abbess considered these words misplaced on 
 the insignia of religious office, and used to remonstrate with her in 
 these words : " My daughter, a war-cry is not suitable to the spouse 
 of Christ." But the prioress took offence at the rebuke, and their 
 relations became very strained. — Note by Madame de Crequy. 
 
12 THE CRIPPLE ASSASSIN [chap, i 
 
 An abbess of Montivilliers is not cloistered so 
 rigorously as the nuns, and my aunt, who was 
 the most charitable and courageous woman in 
 the world, thought it her duty to proceed to the 
 outer court, accompanied by a suitable retinue. 
 
 A cross was carried before her between two 
 acolytes bearing wax tapers. She was followed 
 by twelve of the assistants, with drooping veils 
 and hands crossed on their breasts. All the lay 
 sisters, in grey robes, surrounded their lady, 
 carrying beautiful Gothic lanterns, used for mid- 
 night processions, the glass sides painted with 
 armorial bearings. I never saw anything more 
 romantic and picturesque than this nocturnal scene. 
 
 Madame de Montivilliers proceeded at once to 
 open the gates. No one else would have dared 
 to do so in defiance of the prioress. She offered 
 a shelter to the farmer, and gave orders that 
 restoratives should at once be given him. The 
 surgeon examined the wounded robber, who proved 
 to be a man dressed in woman's clothes. The 
 other prisoner was lying extended on a litter, and 
 the farmer informed us he was the pretended 
 beggar who had been nightly sheltered under the 
 porch of the abbey. 
 
 He was of giant proportions, a mighty frame 
 from which the four members had been cut ofT, 
 save a stump of one arm. His head was of 
 abnormal size ; his body covered with scabs and 
 loathsome sores ; his matted hair and beard were 
 full of them. He glared at the group of nuns 
 
I DO PENANCE 13 
 
 with sinister green eyes, which, as they ghttered 
 in the light of the many torches and lanterns, were 
 like those in a hideous nightmare. As soon as 
 Madame de Montivilliers had seen to the safety 
 and welfare of every one, she raised her veil, and 
 the whole party fell on their knees to receive her 
 benediction. 
 
 As I had managed to slip out under cover of 
 the darkness and join the group of assistants, I 
 was, when discovered, severely scolded and banished 
 for three days to a distant cell. There my only 
 companion was a refectory sister, deaf as a post, 
 and whose only conversation consisted in discussing 
 the various methods of preserving eggs and drying 
 beans. Never was a penance inflicted on a 
 curious, impatient little girl better calculated to 
 punish her. I was three whole days kept in 
 ignorance as to what had been done with the 
 robbers. My aunt was greatly amused at having 
 thought of such an excellent punishment. 
 
 On searching the beggar's usual sleeping-place 
 a number of things were discovered — several 
 knives and daggers and a roll of golden louis hid 
 under some faggots. Secreted among his rags 
 were found a filigree reliquary, an Agnus Dei, 
 two monstrances, some golden scissors, and a 
 quantity of hair of all shades of colour, which led 
 to the supposition that he must have been in 
 league with some one inside the convent. 
 
 Since my aunt had been in power all the nuns, 
 novices, and boarders had had their hair cut 
 
14 THE CRIPPLES METHODS [chap, i 
 
 according to regulation. The lay sisters were in 
 the habit of selling the tresses of hair at the fair of 
 Guibray for the benefit of the brotherhood of Saint 
 Rosaire. How he had got hold of all these things 
 was never discovered, but the idea was that he 
 meant to work, by means of them, an evil spell 
 on us. The sacred wafers were burnt at once, to 
 save any possible profanation, in case they had 
 been consecrated. 
 
 The result of the inquiry elicited the following 
 facts. On the night of November 4th, 171 2, the 
 cripple begged for charity, in a piteous voice, to 
 the passers-by from under the tree where he was 
 always placed. A farmer, returning from the fair 
 at Caen, taking pity on his infirmities, came close 
 up to him, and stooped over him in order to drop 
 a coin into the hat that the beggar had lying 
 beside him. It appeared that with the help of 
 his stump he was able to work a long rod, which 
 he kept close up against his body, and with which 
 he managed to set in motion a balance weight, 
 one side of which was heavily loaded and fixed 
 in the branch of the tree above him. This came 
 down with great force on the farmer's head. 
 Whereupon the young man dressed as a woman 
 rushed out from the bushes, and stabbing the 
 farmer's horse, prepared to attack him, but re- 
 ceived such a violent blow that he fell mortally 
 wounded, and indeed died before the convoy 
 reached the abbey. The farmer rushed off at 
 once to fetch the guard, who, after placing the 
 
MLLE. DES HOULIERES 15 
 
 two assassins on the same barrow, brought their 
 fine prize in triumph to us in the middle of the 
 night. 
 
 Notices were published at once and posted up, 
 and some children came forward and gave evi- 
 dence of shameful deeds committed by these two 
 scoundrels, who were father and son ; and the 
 case having been clearly proved, the cripple was 
 condemned to be broken on the wheel. He was 
 executed on the spot where he had attempted 
 his last crime, which was at Montivilliers. 
 
 His name never transpired, nor the place of his 
 birth, but his accent was said to be that of 
 Lorraine. His frame was so powerful that his 
 horrible punishment was with difficulty carried out. 
 He cursed and swore at his executioner, biting 
 off the end of his finger like a ferocious wild beast, 
 and accusing him of clumsiness and inexperience, 
 saying that it was not the first time he had been 
 broken on the wheel. While this awful scene 
 was going on, we were all on our knees in the 
 abbey, praying that God might have mercy on 
 the sinner. 
 
 I remember we were all very much cast down 
 and saddened after this occurrence, and it was 
 a pleasant change when Mile, des Houlieres 
 came to stay with us, my aunt having set apart 
 a special apartment for her. I remember that 
 she spoke with touching affection of Madame de 
 Montespan, and had a most unbounded admiration 
 for her. I naturally was ignorant of the fact 
 
i6 THE CASTLE OF CANAPLES [chap, i 
 
 that any scandal was attached to the memory 
 of this cousin, but in the course of conversation 
 between my aunt and Mile, des Houli^res I 
 learnt that Madame de Montespan was mother 
 of one of the king's sons, M. le Due de Maine, 
 and I was greatly puzzled how this could possibly 
 be. I felt, however, that it was a subject about 
 which I must display no curiosity. They always 
 skimmed over this topic with bated breath, and it 
 left me with a burning desire to penetrate the 
 mystery. 
 
 Before she came to us Mile, des Houli^res 
 had been staying in our province, on a visit 
 to the unhappy chitelaine of Canaples, where 
 she witnessed so many proofs of my poor 
 uncle's extraordinary behaviour, that she found it 
 impossible not to relate some of his doings to us- 
 (No one at that time had any idea that I should 
 marry one of the house of Cr6quy Canaples.) No 
 regular meals were allowed to be served at the 
 Castle of Canaples. People breakfasted, lunched, 
 or took any light repast they pleased, but on no 
 account might they call it dinner or supper. Food 
 was served in a sort of refectory, where a table 
 was always laid in readiness, with such dainties as 
 otter pdt'es made in Wrolland, and bear hams 
 from M. de Canaples' plantations in Canada. He 
 would not allow a spit to be used in his kitchen, 
 and said it was an invention only fit for the middle 
 classes and financiers. The joints were roasted 
 after the fashion of the thirteenth century, by means 
 
THE BEAST OF GERVAUDAN 17 
 
 of a wheel, which was turned by a large dog placed 
 inside it. The unfortunate animal generally ended 
 by going mad. You may imagine what an ex- 
 penditure there was in that kitchen of watch-dogs 
 and poodles. 
 
 He banished all the women-servants, and the 
 poor countess had only footmen to wait on her, 
 and had to dress and undress herself. 
 
 It was during Mile, des Houlieres' stay at 
 Canaples that the "beast of Gervaudan " took 
 refuge in the cemetery of Freschin. This ferocious 
 animal had been ineffectually pursued for four 
 months, and had devastated the country side. 
 (M. de Buffon long afterwards came to the 
 conclusion that it was a hyena, escaped from a 
 travelling menagerie, but from the description she 
 gave us I am convinced it was a lynx.) The 
 huntsman whose two little children had been 
 devoured by this beast planted a small cannon in 
 the cemetery, where it returned at night for shelter, 
 but it was the Comte de Canaples who finally 
 killed it with an espingole, a kind of small gun with 
 a very wide muzzle.^ 
 
 Not far from Montivilliers at this time another 
 incident occurred which I must relate to you, if 
 only to warn you against certain practices, preva- 
 lent among a class of people of very bad taste, but 
 who ought to have known better — I mean the 
 
 ' You must not confound this animal with a ferocious monster who 
 appeared long afterwards from the mountains of Navarre, and which 
 was also called the " beast of Gervaudan." — Note by Madame de 
 Crequy. 
 
i8 M. DE MARTAINVILLE [chap, i 
 
 amusement of practical joking, which often ends in 
 rough horseplay. 
 
 A young councillor of the Norman Senate named 
 M. de Martainville, who had been recently married, 
 had a house full of guests for the holidays. 
 
 Among others were officers from the neighbour- 
 ing garrison. 
 
 They bored holes in the walls and the ceilings, 
 and inserted cords, which had been secretly 
 attached to the bed-clothes. They dug pits in 
 the long grass to upset the riders and their horses, 
 which must have been far from agreeable to the 
 luckless visitors. Salt was put in the coffee, and 
 pepper in the snufif. The edges of the tumblers 
 were rubbed with bitter essence of cucumber. The 
 men's shirts were smeared with resin, and chopped 
 horse-hair was scattered among the bed-clothes. 
 As to frogs and crickets, they were to be found in 
 all the beds of the castle. In the provinces the 
 rustic mind finds amusement in these foolish and 
 annoying practices. No one could visit the young 
 couple without being assailed by impertinent jokes, 
 and the house came to be regarded as a regular 
 trap for the unwary. 
 
 Martainville and his wife were expecting a 
 visit from the widow of the Intendant d'Alen9on, 
 Madame Herault de Sdchelles, who, having just 
 recovered from an attack of the lungs, was on her 
 way by slow stages to take the waters at Barege. 
 They had entreated her to come and rest for a 
 few days at Martainville. She was a wealthy old 
 
PRACTICAL JOKES 19 
 
 lady with an income of sixty thousand livres, and 
 the Martainvilles were her heirs. She was exceed- 
 ingly susceptible and exacting, accustomed to be 
 treated with great subserviency, having spent all 
 her life in a small provincial town, where she was 
 in the habit of being flattered and made much of. 
 
 " Now, don't forget," said de Martainville to 
 all his disorderly crew, " that you must not commit 
 any follies during the suspension of our amuse- 
 ments caused by the visit of aunt de Sdchelles. 
 I beg of you, ladies and gentlemen, to behave 
 yourselves, and do not forget that I am her heir." 
 
 Great preparations were made that the illustrious 
 invalid might be suitably lodged. All the best 
 furniture was moved into her rooms, and valuable 
 china and bric-a-brac were disposed about them. 
 A fine capon cooked to a turn was kept hot in 
 readiness, pigeons boiled in barley and quails 
 dressed with lettuce were prepared, as well as 
 fresh eggs and Alicante wine with the chill off; 
 in fact, the kitchen and the whole staff were await- 
 ing the arrival. Eight days passed, but Madame 
 rintendante did not turn up. The family began 
 to be anxious, and the rest of the company im- 
 patient. The master of the house had never seen 
 his wife's aunt, nor had his wife met her since 
 her childhood. This fact suggested to the aristo- 
 cratic rioters the idea of playing a joke upon their 
 hosts. 
 
 Among the facetious crowd was a certain M. 
 de Clermont d'Amboise, who, by the way in after- 
 
20 A MYSTIFICATION [chaf. i 
 
 years wanted to marry me. Perhaps I should have 
 felt honoured, but it will not prevent my telling 
 you that he was a miserable little sallow-faced 
 specimen. 
 
 He was dressed as the old lady, and another 
 officer personified the maid. All the arrangements 
 were carried out with great secrecy, only two or 
 three persons being admitted into the plot ; but 
 a lady's-maid revealed it to a young gentleman 
 who was indulging in a quiet flirtation with her. 
 
 It thus became a case of diamond cut diamond, 
 one set of guests trying to mystify the other, but 
 while they were lying in wait the real aunt arrived 
 on the scene in the dusk of the evening. The 
 conspirators, thinking it was d'Amboise trying to 
 take them in, precipitated themselves on the un- 
 fortunate old lady. They tore off her high collar 
 and the flounces of her dress, snatched off her cap 
 and wig, and treated her with such indignities as 
 one does not care to dwell on. The luckless 
 woman was so dumfounded she remained speech- 
 less and unable to cry out, but she must have 
 learnt their perfidy by the exclamations she heard 
 around her. 
 
 "Horrid old cat!" "Tiresome old woman!" 
 " You want to go and take waters, do you ? so 
 as to keep your heirs waiting still longer. Here 
 are douches and mineral waters for you," and with 
 that she was soused from head to foot with pails 
 of water from the pump. From this they pro- 
 ceeded to blows, which were continued for about 
 
UNFORTUNATE RESULT 21 
 
 a quarter of an hour, and by that time she had 
 succumbed to the ill-treatment, and was lying in a 
 dying condition on the flags of the hall. Lights 
 were now brought, when the shocking discovery 
 was made that it was Madame de Sdchelles, and 
 not M. de Clermont d'Amboise. 
 
 Filled with alarm at the possible consequences 
 of their deed, every one fled from the chiteau, 
 excepting the de Martainvilles, who remained, 
 tearing their hair with grief while the poor old 
 lady shrank from them in terror during her lucid 
 moments. She died on the third day, and as she 
 had left no will they inherited her property without 
 question. This, however, only made matters worse 
 in the eyes of the public, so much so, that a 
 judicial inquiry was instituted. 
 
 M. de Martainville and his wife, having a 
 strict sense of honour, absolutely declined to touch 
 Madame de Sdchelles' property, and left it for her 
 next heirs. So distressed were they, that they 
 sold their beautiful estate of de Martainville, and 
 even changed their name to that of de Franchville, 
 which is borne by their family to this day. 
 
 About this same time my aunt received a visit 
 from the Princesse de Conty. Her Serene Highness 
 had been sent to the seaside, having been bitten 
 by one of her cats, and they feared hydrophobia.^ 
 On her return to Versailles she came to spend 
 
 ' Sea-bathing was unknown in France until the reign of Louis XIV., 
 when it became a fashionable cure for hydrophobia. Dieppe sands 
 were supposed to have wonderful curative properties. 
 
22 THE PRINCKSSE DE CONTY [chap, i 
 
 Whitsuntide at Montivilliers. She was a very 
 captious and cantankerous person, and I re- 
 member her kissing me, and saying, " How do 
 you do, cousin ? " much in the same tone of voice 
 in which she would have said, " Go to the devil !" 
 
 During High Mass she caused a great scandal. 
 The officiating priest offered her the paten to kiss. 
 " Take it away," she cried, rudely pushing aside 
 the sacred vessel ; "I will take it as you do." 
 
 Our poor chaplain remained stupefied. The 
 abbess who was sitting on her dais in great state 
 within the grating where the nuns were assembled, 
 suffered visibly at this lamentable occurrence. She 
 beckoned to me to come and kneel before her; 
 and whispered, as briefly as possible, that I 
 should inform the priest, in Latin, that princes 
 and princesses of the royal blood had the same 
 privilege as ecclesiastics of kissing the inside of 
 the paten, and not the outside, like the rest of 
 the faithful. 
 
 The chaplain was so upset by such behaviour 
 on the part of a communicant when he was serv- 
 ing the Mass in his sacerdotal robes, that he 
 could not grasp my meaning, and I had to repeat 
 it in French, upon which he presented the inside 
 of the paten towards the princess, who, after 
 kissing it roughly, turned to me, and said aloud, 
 " Thank you, my little cat " ! 
 
 If you can get any moral out of this story, 
 you are welcome to do so. 
 
 I may here mention a prerogative of the Kings 
 
A PILGRIMAGE 23 
 
 of France when they receive the Holy Sacra- 
 ment. A large paten, containing the same number 
 of consecrated wafers as there have been Kings of 
 France since Clovis, is presented to his Majesty 
 by the celebrant. The king chooses the wafer 
 he wishes to partake of by touching it with his 
 finger. Another custom is that no perfume is 
 put with the incense used for the king, though it 
 is added afterwards for the queen and the rest 
 of the royal family. 
 
 Of these customs one dates from the time of 
 Louis le Debonnaire, who was supposed to have 
 been poisoned by the Host, and the other arose 
 from the dislike of Philippe le Beau for perfumes 
 of any kind. He used to faint at the smell. 
 
 Now listen to the account of our pilgrimage to 
 Mont St. Michel. The Abbess of Montivilliers was 
 under a conventual obligation, which dated from 
 a vow made by one of her ancestors, Agnes of 
 Normandy, to visit the church of Mont St. 
 Michel once in her lifetime. The abbey is of 
 the same order as that of Montivilliers, both 
 monasteries having been richly endowed by this 
 Prin'cesse Agnes, and a sort of fraternal union 
 existed between these two royal churches. 
 
 An old coach which had belonged to Madame 
 de Gonzague, the late abbess, and which had 
 served for the same pilgrimage, was furbished up 
 for the occasion. 
 
 When we reached the lands of the barony of 
 Genest, which belong to the monks of Mont St. 
 
24 MONT ST. MICHEL [chap, i 
 
 Michel, we found an envoy from the reverend 
 fathers waiting for their "honourable and vener- 
 able sister of Montivilliers," for the purpose of 
 informing her of certain rules, necessary for the 
 proper fulfilment of her pilgrimage. One was 
 that the abbess and her two assistants were to 
 preserve absolute silence (which did not suit me 
 at all), and on our arrival at the great sandy 
 plain which surrounds the mount, my aunt was 
 to descend from her coach, and perform the rest 
 of the journey on foot. 
 
 We started by way of Pontorson, the distance 
 being less than by Avranches. 
 
 For an hour we walked over the firm surface 
 of the sand. To the right were the low wooded 
 hills of Normandy, to our left the ocean, calm 
 and blue as the heavens above us, while before 
 us rose an immense rocky pyramid, the base of 
 which was encircled by battlements with projecting 
 towers. The bastions were ornamented by little 
 Gothic structures intermingled with pines and 
 fig-trees, ilex and ivy, and the summit was crowned 
 by a sold mass of masonry, over which rose a 
 magnificent church, with pointed belfries and a 
 campanile. 
 
 The pinnacle of this edifice is so richly carved, 
 and at the same time the traceries are so delicate, 
 that nothing to equal it has ever been seen. On 
 the topmost point is poised a great golden image 
 of St. Michel, which revolved in the wind. 
 
 They told us that during stormy weather this 
 
MONT ST. MICHEL 25 
 
 image with its flaming sword is swung round 
 with great force, and appears to be defying the 
 elements. 
 
 I left the good nuns reciting their litanies, 
 while I ran hither and thither collecting shells, 
 some of them of most lovely colours, also 
 fragments of porphyry, jasper, and agate, which 
 must have been washed up by the tide from the 
 coast of Brittany. 
 
 On our arrival we were shown two great cannons 
 at the entrance, which the English had shame- 
 fully abandoned during their last unsuccessful 
 attack on the mount. 
 
 These enemies of France have invariably failed 
 in this attempt, owing to the courage and fidelity 
 of the inhabitants. When the tide was out, they 
 defended it manfully ; and when the returning sea 
 rolls in over the great plain, which it does with 
 tremendous force, the mount once more becomes 
 impregnable. The power of the water would over- 
 throw an army of the Pharaohs, and the waves 
 beat against the base, and make any landing im- 
 possible. Consequently the Montois, as they are 
 called, spend just half their lives without any means 
 of communication with the outside world. 
 
 The little town of Mont St. Michel is composed 
 of one steep street, which winds from the gateway 
 to the portico of the abbey, whence a second 
 line of fortification is visible. Here the prior 
 received us. We were lodged in the hospital close 
 by, which also served as a state prison. There 
 
26 THE ABBEY [chap, i 
 
 were two prisoners confined there at the time of 
 our visit ; both were lunatics. One was the 
 Chevalier d'O, who had murdered his niece ; the 
 other, a canon of Bayeux, whose fixed idea was 
 that he could coin false money. I also saw the 
 cell where the Dutch journalist was imprisoned, 
 and I do not know what possessed Madame de 
 Genlis, forty years later, to write that it was an 
 iron cage, and had been demolished by her pupil 
 the Due de Chartres. 
 
 It was a large room, the ceiling supported by 
 heavy beams, wJiich would assuredly have fallen 
 on the royal head had the duke attempted to 
 displace them. 
 
 It is one thing to laud a French prince, but 
 it is still better to stick to the truth. Madame 
 de Genlis was, however, indifferent to that, as 
 her readers were mainly people quite unable to 
 criticise her. Indeed, few at that time had ever 
 visited the Abbey of Mont St. Michel, any more 
 than the Church of Brou-lez-Bourg, in Bresse, or 
 the royal Castle of Chambord, all of which I 
 recommend as the three most curious things in 
 the kingdom. 
 
 I have always admired Gothic architecture in 
 preference to any other, but I cannot tell you 
 much about the interior, as, owing to our sex, we 
 were only allowed to visit the church, the great 
 hall of the Knights of St. Miclicl, and the entrance 
 to the cloisters ; the latter we were only just 
 allowed to peep into. Curiosity is, however, a 
 
THE DUKE OF SOMERSET 27 
 
 very venial sin, which can be effaced by a mouthful 
 of holy bread, as Father Charles de Courcy used 
 gaily to tell us ; and he was a learned man and 
 the custodian of the charts. 
 
 Mont St. Michel is a place that defies descrip- 
 tion. I returned there, twenty years later, with 
 your grandfather M. de Cr^quy, when he was 
 on his tour of military inspection round the 
 coasts of Normandy and Brittany, but again my 
 sex prevented my being admitted, except into the 
 places before mentioned. 
 
 The church is of the twelfth century. The altar 
 and steps, of solid silver, support a fine figure 
 in enamel of the destroying angel. Benvenuto 
 Cellini never produced any work more resplendent 
 or more delicately chased than the dragon under 
 the archangel's feet. Round the chancel are 
 the coats-of-arms and names of the nobles of 
 Normandy, dating from William the Conqueror. 
 This, therefore, is proof positive that the English 
 are wrong in stating that some of our oldest 
 families are still to be found in England. At 
 least it can be verified here, though it is whispered 
 that the Duke of Somerset wishes to add the 
 name of Seymour or St. Maur to these inscriptions, 
 as he declares that his family is descended from 
 one of the companions of the Conqueror. 
 
 This false pretension was received as it deserved, 
 and the embassy of the Seymours to Mont St. 
 Michel proved an abortive one. Only the grandson 
 of the pedantic guardian of Edward VI. would 
 
28 A PROPHETIC ABBE [chap, i 
 
 have conceived it possible by the power of 
 money to persuade French noblemen and holy 
 monks to inscribe a falsehood in the very sanctuary 
 of a royal abbey. 
 
 Some hundred yards from the mount is a 
 rocky island called Tomb^l^ne, on which are the 
 remains of gigantic ruins, said to have been once 
 the sepulchres of the Druids. It is now used 
 as a cemetery for the Montois. 
 
 No Duke of Normandy nor King of France 
 since Philippe Auguste has failed to visit the 
 holy mount in periculo maris. 
 
 Louis XV. is the first king who has not per- 
 formed this pilgrimage. The prophetic Abb^ 
 Richard de Toustain announces great misfortunes 
 in store for his posterity down to the third genera- 
 tion. We shall see if the Abbd is a false prophet 
 or not. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 Death of the Marquis de Montflaux, Brother of Victoire — Etiquette 
 of Mourning — Journey to Paris — First Interview with the Count 
 de Froulay, her Father — Hotel de Breteuil — Description of the 
 Various Members of the Family — Milord Mar^chal — First Dispute 
 with Voltaire— M. de Fontenelle— The Old Due de St. Simon— 
 Jean-Baptiste Rousseau — Visit to St. Cyr — The King — Madame 
 de Maintenon — God save the King. 
 
 ABOUT this time I had the misfortune to lose 
 my brother, though this loss resulted in my 
 future welfare, as but for that I should not have 
 married M. de Crequy, with whom I passed thirty 
 years of happiness without a cloud. Had I not 
 become a rich heiress, M. de Crdquy could not 
 have married me, as his property was crippled by 
 mortgages, and he would have been obliged to 
 seek a wife among the financial circles. As his 
 family had never admitted any mesalliance, he 
 would most probably never have married at all. 
 
 My brother died of small-pox when serving 
 in command of his father's old regiment. I think 
 it was in 1713.^ 
 
 My aunt de Montivilliers thought it necessary 
 to break the news to me by degrees, and so for 
 four or five months I believed my poor brother to 
 
 * It must have been later. 
 29 
 
30 JOURNEY TO PARIS [chap, ii 
 
 be slowly dying of some mortal disease. Without 
 knowing it I was wearing mourning for him all 
 the time, as his death coincided with that of my 
 aunt the Mar^chal de Tessa's wife, for whom it 
 was considered to be necessary to wear mourning 
 as for a mother, her husband being the head of 
 our house. 
 
 In those days no one dreamt of shirking such 
 a duty. All people of quality wore mourning as 
 for a parent on the death of the chief of the family, 
 even if they were cousins in the twentieth degree. 
 It was considered to be an act of submission, 
 testifying to the dignity of their race, and one 
 that the parvenus never dared to imitate. 
 
 It is well known that it was the Duchesse de 
 Berry, the regent's daughter, who caused the 
 durations of mourning to be shortened by one- 
 half; but I can assure you that, with the excep- 
 tion of the courtiers of the Palais-Royal and the 
 followers of the Luxembourg, where that unworthy 
 princess resided, no one would adopt an innovation 
 which was, to say the least, an impertinence during 
 the minority of the king. 
 
 Towards the end of 171 3 my aunt announced, 
 with an air of secrecy which raised my suspicions, 
 that I was to go to Paris for the winter, but that 
 I should return to the abbey as soon as I had 
 made the acquaintance of my grandmother de 
 Froulay. 
 
 I cried a great deal at parting from my aunt, 
 and was sent off, accompanied by a waiting-woman, 
 
THE HOTEL DE BRETEUIL 31 
 
 in a postchaise with postilions which my father 
 had sent from Paris to fetch me. 
 
 We arrived, after six days' journey, at the Hdtel 
 de Froulay, in the Rue St. Dominique. There 
 I was met by my father, whom I had never seen 
 in my life, and who received me as if we had only 
 parted the day before. My father had a charming 
 countenance and a most agreeable manner. He 
 told me he was going to take me to live with my 
 aunt the Baronne de Breteuil, because my grand- 
 mother the Marquise de Froulay passed her time 
 going backwards and forwards between Paris and 
 Versailles. He added, however, that she would 
 find time to introduce me into certain houses. 
 He recommended me to be careful how I conducted 
 myself before the de Breteuils, as they were very 
 particular on points of etiquette. He then ordered 
 some sweets to be served for me, and we started 
 off to the Hdtel de Breteuil, which overlooked the 
 gardens of the Tuileries — a situation which ap- 
 peared to me so beautiful that I was loud in 
 praise of it, which made them say I was a child 
 of nature. 
 
 This charming house, as you know, consisted 
 of seven or eight rooms on each floor, all being 
 gilded and decorated and furnished with every 
 conceivable luxury. 
 
 The Marquise de Breteuil-Sainte-Croix occupied 
 the ground floor, two or three rooms of which 
 she reserved for her mother, the Marechale de 
 Thomond, who was lady-in-waiting to the Queen 
 
32 THE DE BRETEUILS [cha». n 
 
 of England, and eldest sister to the Mar^chale 
 de Berwick. The mother and daughter had a 
 beautiful chateau at St. Germain, so this apart- 
 ment in the Hotel de Breteuil was a mere pied- 
 (t-terrc for them in Paris. My aunt the baronne 
 lived on the first floor with her husband. His 
 library overflowed into three rooms. 
 
 The second floor belonged to the Dowager 
 Comtesse de Breteuil-Charmeaux, another of my 
 aunts, and eldtr sister to the baronne, and 
 they, like myself, were by birth de Froulays. 
 This lady would not share her apartment with 
 any one, and, moreover, did not consider that 
 the de Breteuils paid her half the attention that 
 was her due. 
 
 The third floor was given up to the Commandant 
 de Breteuil, and the Bishop of Rennes always 
 put up with him when he came to Paris. 
 
 The five children of the baronne were lodged 
 on the fourth floor, and my cousin Emilie, who 
 afterwards became Marquise du Chatelet,^ was 
 made to give up to me her apartment, which over- 
 looked the Tuileries gardens. She was relegated 
 to three little rooms looking out on a blind alley, 
 a fact for which she never forgave me. 
 
 So, you see, I was regularly transplanted into the 
 middle of the de Breteuil family, and whenever 
 my father's recommendation recurred to my mind, 
 I realised that I was indeed in a thorny place. 
 
 However, the habits of carefulness I then ac- 
 ' I Called by Voltaire the sublime Emilie. 
 
BARON DE BRETEUIL 33 
 
 quired served me in good stead later on, for I 
 learnt never to discuss any members of the family 
 without due precaution. 
 
 M. de Breteuil was an old lawyer. His chief 
 topic of conversation was about his father, the 
 late controller-general. He had always been ad- 
 dressed as " Monseigneur," and all my uncle's 
 stories were interlarded with such phrases as 
 " Certainly, Monseigneur," " How did you come 
 to think of it, Monseigneur?" etc. He had a 
 regular mania for titles, and carried this to such a 
 ridiculous excess that he even had all his titles 
 inserted into his legal contracts. 
 
 For instance, he inherited the title of Secretary 
 to the King, which he had sold, and received 
 in lieu that of Reader to his Majesty, so he con- 
 sidered himself qualified to be named Baron de 
 Breteuil et de Preuilly, Premier Baron de Touraine 
 and Secretary of the King, Minister Plenipotentiary 
 and Reader to his Majesty, Councillor of the King, 
 and Introducer of Foreign Princes. 
 
 It was an absurd hotch-potch, and the family 
 were much ashamed of it. Otherwise he was a 
 literary man, and a good Molinist.^ 
 
 The elder of my aunts, Marie-Thdrese de 
 Froulay, was a very exacting and arrogant 
 dowager. She assumed an air of the greatest con- 
 tempt for the grandeurs of the H6tel de Breteuil ; 
 all the same, she never drove out without ."jix 
 
 • Follower of Molina, a Spanish Jesuit. 
 
34 EMILIE DE BRETEUIL [chap, u 
 
 horses, an outrider, and four footmen in full-dress 
 livery. 
 
 She had seven waiting-maids, one or two of 
 whom sat up every night to protect her from 
 ghosts. I never met such a coward as she was. 
 She would not even enter her sister's room 
 alone, because there was a tiger skin before the 
 door. 
 
 She breakfasted daily off a panado of barley, 
 and never dined at home, so her expenses were 
 very small, and she had more money to spend 
 than she needed. 
 
 But nothing made up to her for not having the 
 entree at Versailles, and at the age of forty-three 
 she married the old Marquis of Vieuville, because 
 she thus obtained the honour of the entrie, he 
 having been gentleman-in-waiting to the late 
 queen. This, she informed me, decided her to 
 take him, but I dare say the old gentleman's good 
 income had something to say to it. She had one 
 of the hardest hearts I ever met with in a woman, 
 and a head as empty as it was vain. 
 
 My cousin Emilie was called Mile, de Preuilly, 
 instead of Mile, de Breteuil, to distinguish her 
 from her first cousin, who became Madame de 
 Clermont-Tonnerre. 
 
 Emilie was three or four years younger than 
 myself, but five or six inches taller. Voltaire, who 
 was her great friend, stated that she was born in 
 1706, but this was only to make her out younger 
 than her age ; in reality she was born in December 
 
EMILIE DE BRETEUIL 35 
 
 1702, which can easily be verified in the sacristy 
 of St. Roch. 
 
 She was a giantess in height, and of wonderful 
 strength, and was besides a marvel of awkwardness. 
 She had skin like a nutmeg-grater, and altogether 
 resembled an ugly grenadier. And yet Voltaire 
 spoke of her beauty ! Algebra and geometry had 
 the effect of making her half crazy, while her 
 pedantry on the subject of her learning made 
 her insupportable. In reality, she muddled up 
 everything that she had learned. One evening 
 she asked us, with her usual absent and pre- 
 occupied air, whether Nebuchadnezzar had been 
 turned into an ox, or Prince Charming meta- 
 morphosed into a bird ? 
 
 " Neither the one nor the other," answered her 
 mother. 
 
 " But I saw it in the Bible." 
 
 " You never saw anything of the kind in your 
 Bible," said my aunt sharply, for she never lost 
 an occasion of snubbing her. " Go and fetch 
 the Bible in which you have discovered such 
 wonderful things. Now read, ' And the king was 
 driven from among the sons of men, and his heart 
 was made like the beasts, and he was fed with grass 
 like oxen.' Where do you read that Nebuchad- 
 nezzar was changed into a beast ? I see that he 
 became mad, but not that he was turned into 
 beef. Such an idea could only emanate from a 
 lay sister or a servant-maid." This showed how 
 the sage Emilie's mind was stored. 
 
36 VOLTAIRE'S OPINION OF EMILIE [chap, n 
 
 That Voltaire ' spoke of her as a scholar I can 
 understand, but I always wondered how M. Clairut, 
 who was very severe and downright, could have 
 been equally flattering. We always believed that 
 she gave him money, and we never could be told 
 of the genius and profound learning of Madame du 
 Chcltelet without bursting out laughing. Voltaire 
 was always greatly annoyed at my incredulity on 
 that subject, and we used to argue the matter out. 
 
 " You see, my dear Voltaire, you say my cousin 
 became a beauty at the age of forty-eight, which, 
 on the face of it, is an invention. How, therefore, 
 can we believe you when you declare she was 
 equally famous for her learning ? " 
 
 " But, madame, she forced me to speak of her 
 beauty — why, she would have strangled me if I 
 had not done so. It shows how little you know 
 about her." 
 
 " Come, come, M. de Voltaire, you really are 
 too bad. Anyway, I know this, that Madame du 
 Ch4telet is cleverer than you." 
 
 I shall often have occasion to tell you of the 
 divine Emilie and her friends, Voltaire, Saint- 
 Lambert, and my nephew the Due du Chfitelet. 
 
 ' " I was tired of the turbulent and lazy life of Paris, when I met a 
 young lady who happened to think as nearly as I did, and who took 
 a resolution to go with me into the country, and there, far from the 
 noise and bustle of the world, cultivate her understanding. This lady 
 was Emilie, Marquise du Clifltelet, daugliter of the H.iron de Breteuil, 
 who, of all women in France, had a mind capable of science. Born 
 with a love of truth, she applied herself to the great discoveries of 
 Newton, and translated into French his book on the principles of 
 Natural Philosophy.'' — Memoirs of Voltaire, by Himself. 
 
DEATH OF COMMANDANT DE BRETEUIL 37 
 
 As to the Commandant de Breteuil and the 
 Bishop of Rennes, who was also Grand Master of 
 the Chapel Royal, I can only say that the latter 
 consisted of an empty mitre, he had no head what- 
 ever ; and the former was a dreary man, an enigma 
 to all his friends and relations. Whenever he went 
 out walking he used to draw his cloak around 
 him, right up to his eyes, and we used all to watch 
 him from the window, with a sort of curiosity and 
 fear. I could never explain the curious effect he 
 had upon me. 
 
 On April i8th, 1714, he filled a case with papers, 
 and addressed them to Louis XIV. 
 
 He accompanied the servant who carried them 
 to Versailles, but returned alone to Paris, and was 
 found dead in his bed the morning of the 20th. 
 
 The evening before he had burnt a quantity 
 of papers, and destroyed a portrait of Monsieur, 
 brother of the king, the remains of which were 
 found in his fireplace. 
 
 His death was much talked about, though there 
 was no reason to suppose that it had not taken 
 place from a natural cause. His funeral was con- 
 ducted with great solemnity in the presence of the 
 princes of the blood, whom the king had commanded 
 to attend. 
 
 I remember that Madame de Maintenon wrote 
 a very kind letter to my aunt on the occasion. 
 It was signed by that name, without any title, and 
 without being preceded by her former name, 
 d'Aubigny. It was sealed with the arms of 
 
38 BARONNE DE BRETEUIL [chap, n 
 
 d'Aubigny, but with no coronet, nor with the arms 
 of de Scarron, which shows how very exceptional 
 her position was. 
 
 Lady Laure de Breteuil, otherwise Marquise de 
 Sainte-Croix, was an English peeress with polite 
 manners, although she was of exalted rank, these 
 two things by no means always being found together 
 in that country. Her father became Marshal of 
 France, and her mother was Superintendent of 
 the English Court at St. Germain. They were 
 both fervent Jacobites, but very morose and 
 unpleasant people. 
 
 Before I leave the subject of 'the de Breteuil 
 family I must tell you of the one member of it 
 who was the most judicious and affectionate, and 
 who was one of the most interesting women I 
 have ever known. That is why I have kept the 
 mention of her to the end, for what is vulgarly 
 called the bonne-bouche. 
 
 Gabrielle Anne de Froulay, Baronne de Breteuil 
 and de Preuilly, was renowned for her beauty. 
 Hers was a face which when once seen was never 
 forgotten, and the like of which is not often seen 
 again. Her complexion was a marvel of freshness, 
 her hair was blond, and her eyebrows black. Her 
 eyes were grey, and piercing as an eagle's, her 
 whole air singularly impressive. She was naturally 
 serious and rarely smiled, save when among her 
 children, who were the most charming creatures, 
 with the exception of the awkward Emilie. 
 
 My aunt was profoundly learned and versed 
 
HER CHARACTER 39 
 
 in astronomy and theology. She used to say the 
 two sciences she preferred were the most elevated 
 and at the same time the most masculine. 
 
 I am sure Madame du Chatelet never knew 
 anything of astronomy but what she may have 
 heard from her mother. 
 
 My aunt was deeply afifectionate, without evil 
 passions, impervious to ridicule, and inaccessible 
 to vanity ; but with all these charming qualities 
 she was curiously weak on some points. 
 
 She obeyed her husband's every whim, and in- 
 sisted on the children and servants scrupulously 
 obeying every order given by the Baron de 
 Breteuil, although these were often contradictory 
 and impossible. 
 
 " Would it not be inexcusable," she used to 
 say, "if I were not grateful to M. de Breteuil, 
 who saved me from the veil and from wasting 
 my life behind the bars of a convent ? To him I 
 owe the happiness of being a mother. He has 
 extraordinary habits, I admit, but it is my duty 
 to conform to them without a murmur." 
 
 My excellent aunt was very superstitious, 
 especially where her children were concerned, and 
 on such occasions this submissive woman would 
 assert herself. 
 
 " Do you think, monsieur," she would exclaim, 
 " that the mother of your children has less natural 
 instinct than the mother of your chickens ? The 
 hen does not require your aid to discover the bird 
 of prey, from which she protects her brood." 
 
40 HER DEVOTION TO HER CHILDREN ]chap. n 
 
 Her husband would reply with an air of resigna- 
 tion, "Very well, Madame, go, if you will, and 
 establish yourself in the inn near the college of 
 la Fl^che, now that you have dreamt that your 
 son is going to have convulsions." 
 
 On that particular occasion my aunt had a true 
 prevision, and she returned in ten days with her 
 son, whom she snatched from college and the jaws 
 of death, and cured of convulsions by making 
 him drink great quantities of sugar of lettuce, a 
 remedy that no one had ever thought of before. 
 
 This little cousin became the father of the Baron 
 de Breteuil who is at the present time famous as 
 the king's minister. His only daughter married 
 the eldest son of the Due de Montmorency, and 
 should we have the misfortune to lose you, she 
 would be my heiress, a piece of good fortune which 
 I assuredly do not covet for her. 
 
 My aunt was fairly well satisfied with the educa- 
 tion that I had received, but she did not consider 
 that I could have acquired in a convent the in- 
 formation necessary for the world of fashion. 
 
 Madame de Breteuil was one of the most know- 
 ledgable and best mannered of women, which 
 always surprised me, as she left the Priory of 
 St. Madeleine-Dunois to meury a husband who, 
 by rank and profession, was not entitled to mix 
 with the set at Versailles. 
 
 She began by making me read an old edition 
 of a book called Youthful Politeness, which was 
 full of rubbish ; but my excellent relative had the 
 
HER VIEWS ON GOOD MANNERS 41 
 
 good sense not to oblige me to accept all its state- 
 ments, but used to make me reject a mass of old- 
 fashioned absurdities and superannuated customs. 
 For instance, in my book I read that it is not 
 seemly to spit into one's neighbour's pocket nor 
 to blow one's nose on the dinner napkin. Combing 
 the hair in church was to be avoided, also making 
 the sign of the cross behind the back, which was 
 an act of rudeness towards the Holy Sacrament. 
 
 "You see," said my aunt, "the reason was that 
 the gay sparks of the time of the late King 
 Louis XIII. had adopted the fashion of wearing 
 long hair, so they were obliged to carry combs in 
 their pockets, and some old people have continued 
 the same custom. Making the sign of the cross 
 behind the back arose from the irreverence of 
 schoolboys, who in their hurry throw their arms 
 backwards. As to blowing one's nose on the 
 serviette, I only wish that certain provincial gentle- 
 men I know of, beginning with the Comte and 
 the Chevalier de Montesquieu, would lay this 
 advice to heart, for they use the table-cloth, a 
 filthy habit which makes me sick." 
 
 " ' Break your bread instead of cutting it, and 
 always smash the shells of the eggs.' Why this 
 advice?" said I, still reading from my volume. 
 
 "It is not necessary to cut bread nowadays. 
 What is served you is always soft and new. I 
 have often thought what a risk there was, in cutting 
 hard crusts, of sending sharp particles into the 
 eyes of your neighbour at table. And if you leave 
 
42 RANK DUE TO THE CLERGY [chap, n 
 
 cj^ijshells on your plate, when the footman clears 
 them away they may roll off and spoil your clothes." 
 I found afterwards that my aunt was anxious 
 not to disgust me with the book, as there was 
 much satjc advice to be found within its pages. 
 
 " I do not like," she would continue, " to see 
 you carrying cups or glasses of liqueur among the 
 company. It is a politeness which savours of 
 the middle classes, and bourgeois habits are to me 
 more unpleasant than those of the lower orders. 
 They combine ignorance and awkwardness with 
 pretension. When you have to receive in the 
 house which your father has decided to take in 
 the garrison town you are to live in, and where 
 you will have a butler and a chef and a well-ordered 
 establishment, always do the honours first to the 
 ecclesiastics. In the first place, it is rendering 
 homage to religion, and with us the clergy take 
 the foremost place in the State. 
 
 " The parliamentary folk, who want to twist 
 everything to serve their own purposes, want to 
 establish a rule that cardinals and field-marshals 
 should rank together, then archbishops and 
 generals, bishops and brigadiers, till at last an 
 abbe, with crosier and mitre, would rank with a 
 colonel or sea-captain, while lawyers and senators 
 would take their place with dukes and peers. 
 Let the authorities decide what they please ; never 
 forget that the clergy of I'rance rank before its 
 nobility. Did you not notice that the Vicar of 
 St. Roch was served by my orders before the 
 
MONSIEUR DE FONTENELLE 43 
 
 Comte de Froulay, although he went and sat at 
 the bottom of the table, and your uncle was 
 wearing the blue ribbon ? " 
 
 In spite of all her fine theories my aunt was 
 often known to relax them in practice, but she 
 considered that young people should always be 
 given general ideas of conduct, and leave the 
 difficulties that arose to those of mature minds. 
 
 The intimate circle of the Hotel de Breteuil 
 was composed of about twenty habitiids, for whom 
 supper was laid daily, according to the custom of 
 the time and the hospitality of this opulent 
 mansion. To give you some idea of the style in 
 which they lived, my uncle and aunt, when in Paris, 
 had forty-four servants. 
 
 M. de Fontenelle was one of those who came 
 regularly to supper. He was a very fine-looking 
 man, nearly six feet, with a charming face and 
 manner, and he was most kind and charitable. 
 He gave a quarter of his income to the poor. 
 He suffered every spring from fever, and used to 
 say, " If only I can last till the time of straw- 
 berries ! " in which he had the greatest faith. 
 He managed to last through ninety-nine springs, 
 and always considered that his longevity was due 
 to the strawberries. 
 
 A story is told of him by Voltaire, which he 
 used also to relate himself 
 
 Having been dangerously ill and having received 
 the last Sacrament, he asked his lady-love, Madame 
 Cornuel, if it would not be advisable to be carried 
 
44 LE DUC DE SAINT-SIMON [chap, n 
 
 on a tumbril, clad only in his night-shirt, with 
 bare feet and a cord round his neck, to Notre 
 Dame, where he could be laid in the porch and 
 do penance for his sins. " Only," he continued, 
 " you must find some one to carry my torch, for 
 I have not strength to do it myself. I should 
 rather like one of the tall footmen of our neighbour 
 the President de Nicolay." 
 
 " Do be quiet, and die in peace, my good man," 
 said old Madame Cornuel. " You always were a 
 perfect goose." 
 
 "That is true," said Fontenelle, "and a good 
 thing for me, as I trust the good God will grant 
 me grace in consequence. Mind you tell every 
 one that I sinned through stupidity, not vice ; it 
 will appear less scandalous, I think." 
 
 " Hold your tongue," said she, " and die in 
 peace." 
 
 The confessor and all the assistants burst into 
 fits of laughter at this, and Fontenelle concluded 
 by saying, " I see that I am as stupid as the good 
 God is holy, which is admitting a great deal." 
 
 I must continue to give you some more bio- 
 graphies of our contemporaries. 
 
 The old Due de Saint-Simon used to visit us 
 regularly, but he never supped out, as he did not 
 choose to return hospitality. He was engaged 
 writing his famous memoirs, but I have heard 
 him deny the fact fifty times. He was like an 
 old sick crow, burning with envy and devoured 
 by vanity — he never forgot his ducal coronet for 
 
JEAN-BAPTISTE ROUSSEAU 45 
 
 a moment. Jean-Baptiste Rousseau compared his 
 eyes to two black coals in an omelet, which 
 though a very trivial comparison was rather an 
 apt one. 
 
 I remember in after-years he complimented me 
 on having married a man of good family, which 
 I thought so impertinent that I replied I was 
 amazed at his indulafence towards us, seeing: that 
 the family of de Crequy were, thank God, no 
 longer ducal ! This upset him so much he nearly 
 went into convulsions. He did not die till 1755, 
 so he had ample time to forge any number of 
 falsehoods and calumnies. 
 
 Jean-Baptiste Rousseau, who had the face of a 
 Silenus and the figure of a ploughman, often came 
 to dinner, but not to supper. We all went into 
 transports over his odes, and my uncle allowed 
 him a pension of six hundred livres, which my 
 cousins continued to pay him after he was exiled 
 to Flanders. I have always thought that this un- 
 fortunate lyric poet was most unjustly condemned. 
 Voltaire declared that he was a serpent who bit 
 the hand that fed him. I only know that eight 
 days before his death he wrote expressing the 
 deepest veneration for the memory of my uncle and 
 the utmost gratitude to the family. It was just 
 one of M. de Voltaire's false statements, of which 
 I could quote many others. 
 
 And now to speak of " Milord Mar^chal." I 
 cannot think of him without emotion. When I 
 first saw him at my uncle's, he was a fine young 
 
40 MILORD MARECHAL [chap, n 
 
 Scotchman of twenty-four.' He had just arrived 
 from England on a mission from the English 
 Jacobites to the refugees, and he came constantly 
 to the Hotel de Breteuil, where he had political 
 interviews with his uncles the Dukes of Melfort 
 and Perth. If you are curious to know what he 
 was like, look at that beautiful picture of Caylus, the 
 favourite of Henry III., which you inherited from the 
 Connetable de Lesdigui^res, and which is now among 
 our pictures framed in enamel, set with amethysts. 
 
 This young Scotch lord promptly fell in love 
 with your grandmother, who, let me tell you, was 
 not without charms. We began by looking at each 
 other with attention, then with interest, and later 
 on with emotion. Each listened attentively to the 
 other's conversation, without daring to exchange 
 a word, and at last when we spoke in the presence 
 of one another, our voices trembled. A day came 
 when he could no longer refrain from speaking. 
 
 " If I dared to love you," he said, "would you 
 forgive me ? " 
 
 "Yes, with pleasure," I replied; and then we 
 fell back to the usual silence imposed on us by 
 etiquette, though we exchanged sympathetic glances, 
 and our affection grew during the two months we 
 were together. 
 
 My aunt had thought fit to let him give me 
 some lessons in Spanish, not in English, of that 
 you may be sure. No one in those days would 
 
 ' Geoge Keith tenth Earl Marischal was born about 1693, and there- 
 fore would have been 24 about 17 17. Me succeeded to the title in 
 1712. It is doubtful to what the title " of Athry " refers (p. 48). 
 
HIS PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE 47 
 
 have dreamed of learning English, or any other 
 northern tongue ; we naturally turned to the south, 
 to the good wine, and the sunshine, and the climate, 
 as indeed most conquerors have ever done. 
 
 Lord George spoke Spanish and Italian as 
 perfectly as French. He used to come and sit 
 on a stool behind me, for no young lady of my 
 time ever sat in a chair with a back to it, still 
 less in an armchair. My lessons were always given 
 in the large drawing-room, under the eye of my 
 aunt and about twenty other people. So my 
 cousin Emilie need not have seemed so shocked, 
 as she always pretended to be. 
 
 Lord George was telling me one evening the 
 story of a rich Dutch heiress who had run away 
 with an Englishman, and whose parents had inserted 
 a notice in the London papers to the effect that 
 if she would not return to her disconsolate family, 
 at least would she send back the key of the tea 
 chest? This made me laugh, and Mile. Emilie took 
 it into her head that we were laughing at her. 
 She finally made so many disagreeable remarks 
 that the young lord determined to speak, and his 
 proposal of marriage was laid before my father, 
 my grandmother, and my aunt de Breteuil, and 
 this latter, like a coward, in spite of having given 
 him every encouragement, began to cry out because 
 the Marshal of Scotland was a Protestant. 
 
 The idea had never entered my head. It came 
 upon me as a most painful revelation, and I cannot 
 to this day forget the suffering it caused me. 
 
-tS HE IS REFUSED [chap, n 
 
 We learnt that he was a Calvinist — indeed he 
 said so ; and Heaven is my witness that without 
 any hesitation I refused the hand of my lord the 
 marshal, and two days after he left for his own 
 country, whence he wrote to my aunt that his 
 sorrow and licspalr made him feel as if he had been 
 condemned to the scaffold. 
 
 This, my dear child, was the only inclination I 
 ever felt in my whole life, apart from that towards 
 M. de Cr^quy, and to whom I related the event 
 without any concealment. 
 
 When the marshal and I met again long years 
 afuT, we made the discovery that we had neither of 
 us ceased to think of the other, and though at 
 first it was a painful idea, soon the thought became 
 very sweet to us. 
 
 To love for ever, you must love truly, but stop 
 short there. Thus you never see mutual defects, 
 and are spared all disillusion. 
 
 When the Marshal of Scotland paid me this 
 visit I was a grandmother and he was a septua- 
 genarian. When he was leaving me, I said, 
 
 " Are we parting for the last time ? " 
 
 " I am yours now, and after death," he replied 
 with admirable simplicity. " I loved you too well 
 not to adopt your religion — a religion which gave 
 you strength to make such a complete sacrifice. 
 I have become a Catholic, and am one in spirit 
 and in truth." 
 
 These words filled my heart with joy. Lord 
 George Keith of Athry was Hereditary Marshal 
 
DOWAGER MARQUISE DE FROULAY 49 
 
 and Premier Peer of Scotland. He was Knight 
 of the Garter and Grand Cross of the Black Eagle. 
 He ended his days at the court of the King of 
 Prussia, who was his intimate friend, and died in 
 1778, and his memory will be ever dear to me. 
 
 But I am rambling away strangely from 1714, 
 where I was in the midst of my story, and you must 
 forgive my little wanderings from the subject in hand. 
 
 I must now go back to tell you something of 
 my grandmother de Froulay, who was always 
 running up and down between Paris and Versailles, 
 so it was many days before there was a chance 
 of my being presented to her. " Mile, de Froulay," 
 she exclaimed, on first seeing me, " is it possible 
 I was not told of your arrival ? I am quite 
 ashamed of my neglect." And she made me a 
 profound curtsey, but did not ask me to sit down, 
 as the Duchesse d'Usez was waiting downstairs 
 for her. My grandmother was dressed in the 
 fashion of the time of the Fronde, with a starched 
 cap, and a habit open over an old dress of cloth 
 of silver, on which all the animals of the ark 
 were embroidered in relief She was an exact 
 likeness of the Duchesse de Longueville. I could 
 not take my eyes off her. 
 
 Though I call her my grandmother, she really was 
 only the second wife of my grandfather, but at the 
 same time she was a near relation of the family. 
 
 She returned my visit two days later, and came 
 to arrange about my going to Versailles, as it was 
 considered indispensable that I should pay my 
 
 4 
 
so DE TESSE AT VERSAILLES [chap, n 
 
 respects to the Mardchal de Tesse, the chief of the 
 family. He never came to Paris, and had already 
 expressed his surprise that I had not been brought 
 to see him. Some more days elapsed before this 
 visit took place. The mar^chal was still in deep 
 mourning for his wife. 
 
 His residence formed part of the wing occupied by 
 Madame la Dauphine, Duchesse de Bourgogne, to 
 whom he was grand equerry. He had twelve or 
 fifteen fine rooms opening on a terrace of ever- 
 greens, leading to the Orangery. I do not think 
 the courtiers of those days would have put up 
 with the rat-holes and garrets that they have to 
 make the best of nowadays. You should ask 
 your father to tell you how he is lodged at 
 \'ersailles, as grand officer to Madame. I always 
 wonder at his forbearance. 
 
 My deceased great-aunt Madame de Tesse was 
 a near relation of Madame de Maintenon, and my 
 grandmother was god-daughter of Louis XIV., so 
 they were always treated by the king and Madame 
 de Maintenon with great intimacy, and the old 
 mardchal told me that he was going to take me 
 to St. Cyr, as she wished to see me. 
 
 We dined, and then went into the chapel for 
 a short prayer, really to enable me to see the 
 interior of the sacred edifice. 1 did not dare to 
 ask to see the castle ; I knew instinctively it would 
 not be the right thing to do, to appear at Versailles 
 as a sort of sight-seer and country cousin. 
 
 We descended the steps of the Orangery, and 
 
VISIT TO ST. CYR Si 
 
 got into the Marechal's coach, but in about ten 
 minutes we stopped suddenly, and two of our foot- 
 men began opening the door and letting down the 
 steps with precipitation. 
 
 "It is the king," said my uncle ; but he would 
 not allow me to get out in a hurry, his well-trained 
 servants having given us plenty of time. 
 
 The king's carriage was escorted by three musque- 
 teers and the same number of light horse ; it was 
 drawn by eight horses, and two pages sat in front 
 and four behind. The liveries of France were still of 
 a beautiful azure blue ; it was Louis XV. who brought 
 in the ugly dull shade of blue now existing. 
 
 As soon as the king, who was alone in his 
 carriage, saw us, the whole cortege stopped as if by 
 magic. His Majesty lowered the window on our 
 side, and took off his hat to us with great affability. 
 
 The tears started to my eyes. " So this is the 
 king, the great king," I cried. 
 
 " Say rather the good and unhappy king," replied 
 the Marechal sadly. 
 
 When we reached St. Cyr, we passed through 
 a great hall where the gentlemen-in-waiting and 
 the pages of his Majesty were lounging about. 
 
 Madame de Maintenon occupied a lofty room, 
 wainscoted with oak, most simply furnished, with- 
 out any pictures or ornaments. The chairs were 
 covered with embossed leather, with a square of 
 carpet before each. She signed to me to approach, 
 and kissed my forehead, and looked at me very 
 kindly, and then turned to her neighbour the 
 
52 MADAME DE MAINTENON [chap, n 
 
 Duchesse de Maine. I went and seated myself 
 beside my grandmother, who told me who this 
 lady was. 
 
 " The daughter-in-law of Madame de Montespan," 
 I answered in a half-whisper, but not so low but 
 that the Mardchal de Tesse caught the words. 
 
 "Good God! how can you talk of such things 
 here?" he whispered angrily, while my grandmother 
 remained dumfounded at my imprudence. 
 
 " Evidently," thought I, " I shall never discover 
 these things, so the less I think of them the better. 
 The birth and parentage of the Due de Maine will 
 for ever remain a mystery for me." 
 
 The Duchesse de Maine was not exactly hump- 
 backed, nor was she exactly crazy, but she was 
 something of both. She was extremely badly 
 dressed in a habit of gold cloth, covered with vine 
 leaves of black velvet, and a profusion of gold beads 
 round her neck, her arms, her waist, and in her hair. 
 
 When a bell sounded Madame de Maintenon 
 got up, made us a profound curtsey, and led the 
 way to the chapel, where we all followed her. I 
 remember noticing her dress as we went along. It 
 was of very beautiful material, the colour of dead 
 leaves, interwoven with silver. She also wore a 
 stiff cap, and had a mantle of point lace lined with 
 purple. The Duchesse de Maine and Madame de 
 Maintenon stopped at every doorway to make way 
 for each other, but 1 noticed that the latter always 
 went first after a polite hesitation. This little 
 manoeuvre was repeated over and over again. 
 
LOUIS XIV S3 
 
 We were hardly seated when the king entered 
 into the royal seat in front of the altar. He came 
 in with a three-cornered hat on his head, which 
 he removed, and bowed first to the altar, and then 
 towards the gilt grating behind which sat Madame 
 de Maintenon, and lastly he bowed to the Duchesse 
 de Maine and the rest of us, for we happened 
 to be all on the same bench. The suite did not 
 enter the chapel, or at any rate I did not see 
 them. I shall never forget the impression it made 
 on me — the clear voices of all the young girls, 
 who, when the king entered, sang a sort of national 
 canticle, " God save the King," the words of 
 which were composed by Madame de Brinon 
 and the music by Lully. You can easily get hold 
 of the music if you like, for a German named 
 Handel took possession of it when in Paris, and 
 for a sum of money presented it to King George 
 of Hanover.^ The English finally adopted it, 
 and brought it out as their national air. 
 
 On our return from St. Cyr we stopped to call 
 on Madame de Maupeou, wife of the Chancellor 
 of France, who was dying, but who nevertheless 
 had half the court around her bed, and she 
 insisted on my grandmother and myself being 
 seated in the places due to our rank. 
 
 1 Madame de Cr6quy is not the only person who remarks on the 
 origin of " God save the King " and the effrontery of the German 
 composer. Two English newspapers of that period mention the fact 
 that, when Handel paid a visit to St. Cyr, he asked leave to copy the 
 words and the music, and afterwards sold them to George I. This 
 was certified to by four of the nuns. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 Cartouche in Paris — The Cardinal de Gdvres — The Duchesse de la 
 FertS, and her Views on Astronomy — The Governor of Paris — 
 The Marquise de Beauffremont and Cartouche — Gallantry of 
 Louis XIV. to the Authoress — Same Politeness from Buonaparte 
 Eighty-five Years later — The Regent's Mother — Her German 
 Dishes — The Learned Dog and Madame d'Elboeuf — Death of 
 the King, Louis XIV. — Louis XV. — Madame de Saulx— Chevalier 
 St. George — First Interview with M, de Cr6quy — Visit to the 
 Duchesse de Lesdigui^res — Marriage of Victoire de Froulay 
 
 ABOUT a year later all Paris was in a ferment 
 over the arrival of Cartouche in their midst. 
 His real name was Burguignon, but he is better 
 known by the name he adopted when he became 
 the chief of a famous band of robbers who de- 
 vastated the country. 
 
 The Palais -Cardinal * had been broken into. 
 This was a mansion which had been built as a 
 habitation for any prelates of distinction who came 
 to Paris, and in which the State archives were 
 kept. M. d'Argenson, the head of the police, was 
 held in great esteem, but none the less a wild 
 fear of Cartouche filled the inhabitants of Paris. 
 Many families left for their country homes, imagin- 
 ing that they would be safer there ; but it was 
 
 ' Afterwards the Palais-Royalj 
 
 .'i4 
 
ATTACK ON CARDINAL DE GEVRES 55 
 
 soon noised abroad that the band were lying in 
 ambush in the environs of Paris, and that Cartouche 
 himself, with fifty men, had dared to attack the 
 Cardinal de Gevres. 
 
 As a fact, they only took from him his pastoral 
 cross, his pontifical ring, ten louis that were in 
 his purse, a pdti made of robin-redbreasts, and 
 two bottles of Tokay which he had won from 
 my uncle over a game of piquet. I must tell 
 you that the Cardinal de Gevres was very greedy, 
 but also very scrupulous. He would never play 
 for money for fear of losing what he considered 
 belonged by right to the poor, nor would he treat 
 himself to foreign wines or dainty dishes, so he 
 used to play piquet willingly for a dish of forced 
 peas or a bottle of wine of Xeres. If he lost 
 his game, he paid his opponent by giving him 
 a collection of mandates and pastoral instructions, 
 which he always carried about with him, hand- 
 somely bound. The bandits took nothing from 
 his secretary the Abbe Cerutti, saying it was a 
 shame to rob such a handsome boy. 
 
 " As you are so considerate towards him," said 
 his Eminence, " you might at least leave him 
 half the pasty and one bottle of wine." 
 
 " As to that," answered Cartouche, " he is wel- 
 come to join us at our meal." 
 
 This the Abbe Cdrutti refused, amid recrimina- 
 tions and shouts of laughter. The Cardinal de 
 Gevres said he would never again travel with his 
 young secretary, for he was sure they took him 
 
S6 DUCHESSE DE LA EERTE [chap, hi 
 
 for ;i young lady in a soutane, and it would cause 
 grave scandal. 
 
 I can assure you that society in those days was 
 much more amusing and interesting than it is at 
 present. Singular persons of every kind abounded ; 
 indeed, I may say I was surrounded by them. 
 
 One I might mention was my aunt the Duchesse 
 de la Fertd, who was a most curious and original 
 woman. Madame de Stahl speaks of her in her 
 Memoirs, but she really knew very little about 
 her, for the duchess kept her at a stately distance, 
 not from ill-nature, but simply because she had 
 only been a Mile. Delaunay. Madame de Stahl 
 had a real talent for observation and narration, but 
 she was incapable of describing the duchess, as she 
 had never had a chance of seeing her familiarly.' 
 To give you some idea of what she was like, I 
 will relate my first visit to my aunt de la Fertd. 
 
 We knew that she had sprained her foot, coming 
 down the steps of the Orangery at \^ersailles, but 
 she had been carried back to Paris. I went with 
 my grandmother, who was also accompanied by 
 Mile. d'Armagnac, daughter of the Prince de 
 Lorraine, so that our party represented all that 
 was most dignified and distinguished in Paris. 
 The duchess was lying on her state bed, under 
 a rich canopy supported on four golden pillars. 
 As soon as she cast eyes on us she appeared to 
 be absorbed in profound reflection, and forgot to 
 
 ' Madame de Stalil, or Stafil, first authoress of that name, was 
 daughter of a French artist. 
 
DUC DE GEVRES 57 
 
 have the curtains drawn apart, She was at least 
 fifty years of age, but very handsome ; her beautiful 
 black eyes, which had the most disdainful expres- 
 sion I ever saw, had a slight cast in them. Her 
 skin was like ivory ; she never blew her nose, for 
 fear of spoiling its Grecian contour, but dabbed it at 
 intervals with a small square of cambric. Her cap 
 and wrapper were trimmed with lace and rosettes 
 of pearl-grey satin. Her coverlid was one single 
 piece of Venice point. I am sure the trimmings 
 of her sheets alone were worth 40,000 crowns. 
 
 We were hardly seated when the folding doors 
 were thrown wide open with a great clatter, and a 
 little figure appeared, carried in a large green velvet 
 armchair, bedecked with silver. This figure, which 
 looked like a sort of doll with grimacing mouth 
 and languishing eyes, was also dressed in green 
 and silver, and held a bunch of verbena in its 
 hand. The chair was carried by four giants dressed 
 as footmen, and six of the prettiest little pages 
 possible surrounded it. They were evidently 
 children of noble birth, for they all wore the Malta 
 Cross or that of St. Lazare. One of the pages 
 carried a green and silver cushion, another a large 
 bunch of verbena and rue to purify the air. 
 
 This fantastic little figure was Monseigneur 
 Potier de Blancmesnil de Tresme, Due de Gevres 
 and Governor of Paris. ^ 
 
 ' The Due de G6vres was one of the most singular personages of the 
 day. Though Governor of Paris, he never transacted any business 
 through fear of fatiguing himself, but spent his time working at 
 
58 CURIOUS INTERVIEW [chap, m 
 
 "Why does the duchess receive us shut in be- 
 hind her curtains ? " said he, in a sort of falsetto 
 voice, addressing no one in particular. " One would 
 think she wished to keep us at a distance as if 
 we were beggars." 
 
 The duchess at this, replied with a nonchalant 
 air, " I trust that my cousins will have the kind- 
 ness to excuse me, and that you, M. de G^vres, 
 will have mercy on me. I always tremble at the 
 sight of you. In imagination I see you on the 
 bench at Tournelle, as if you were your grandfather, 
 wearing the black cap, and sentencing unfortunate 
 mortals to death." 
 
 The duke grinned and began smelling at his 
 verbena and herbs, like an old woman. He 
 then asked who I was, and my grandmother, 
 with great politeness, replied that I was one of 
 his relatives, and that I might be complimented 
 on having the honour of belonging to his family. 
 I confess that at this statement the pride I had in 
 my race was slightly dashed ! 
 
 At the end of twenty minutes the Governor of 
 Paris was removed as he came, with his footmen, 
 his pages, and his airs and graces. 
 
 He was followed by a sacristan, who came to 
 tell her Grace that her chaplain was about to pro- 
 nounce the benediction in her oratory, and asked 
 her if she would not join in spirit. 
 
 embroidery. He died at the age of seventy, liaving passed liis life 
 taking care of himself. He only owned to being twenty-two or twenty- 
 three years of age. 
 
THE DUCHESSE DE LA FERXfe 59 
 
 " My dear princess, and you, marquise, do go 
 and hear the benediction in my chapel," said she, 
 "for I have something very particular to say in 
 private to Mile, de Froulay." 
 
 " My dear little girl," she continued, address- 
 ing me as soon as we were alone, " you do not 
 know how interested I am in you. Would you 
 like to eat some sweets ? " And lifting the 
 coverlid, she produced a silver dish, filled with 
 pastry. She then obliged me to eat some cakes, 
 and also to listen to some advice. One recom- 
 mendation was never to sit out in the moonlight. 
 
 " Some foolish persons," said she, " on seeing 
 falling stars, believe that they are souls wending 
 their way to God. Not at all. They are prin- 
 cesses being born. Never forget this, my child." 
 
 On my way home I did not fail to relate this 
 to the others. 
 
 " Really," said my grandmother, " your aunt 
 was rather sensible to-day. The other morning 
 she told little Mile, du Chatillon that the moon 
 was a black hen, and was not bigger than a 
 cooking-pot." 
 
 " I expect that it was the stupid little girl who 
 misunderstood her," replied Mile. d'Armagnac, with 
 an air of admiration for Madame de la Perth's 
 scientific knowledge, and with no appearance of 
 astonishment at these startling new theories of 
 astronomy, which did not appear to her to be more 
 impossible than those of Copernicus and Tycho- 
 Brahe ! 
 
6o MARQUISE DE BEAUFFREMONT [chap, hi 
 
 I h;ue ii(U forgotten that I was in the middle 
 of telling you about Cartouche. We still con- 
 tinued to |j:() out at night, protected by four or 
 five armed footmen, and whenever we crossed one 
 of the bridges the carriages kept together like 
 in a cur.uan, and the night patrol was on the 
 alert. 
 
 The head of the patrol had had his house swept 
 nearly empty by Cartouche, so much so that he 
 had not a frying-pan left. Every day brought 
 some fresh tdle of Cartouche's depredations, and the 
 guards were not in sufficient number to supply the 
 escorts demanded on all sides. In fact, since the 
 days of the Fronde Paris had never been in such 
 a state. The Marquise de Beauffremont was the 
 only person able to give free passes to ensure 
 safety from the robbers, and no one could imagine 
 how she came to be on such good terms with them. 
 This, however, was the real state of the case. 
 
 One night the marquise had returned home about 
 two in the morning, and after her women had 
 undressed her she dismissed them to bed, and 
 remained seated by the fireside writing. 
 
 It seems she kept a voluminous diary, which was 
 never found after her death. This was a great 
 pity, as she was a very intelligent woman. She 
 noticed many things which other people overlooked. 
 Fontenelle used to say of her that she was the 
 woman with the luminous eyes mentioned in the 
 Thousand and One Nis;hts. 
 
 Presently she heard a muffled noise in the 
 
MIDNIGHT VISIT FROM CARTOUCHE 6i 
 
 chimney, followed by a shower of soot, swallows' 
 nests, and plaster, out of which stepped a man, 
 armed to the teeth. As his sudden entrance had 
 displaced a burning log in the fireplace, the first 
 thing he did was to pick it up with the tongs, and 
 replace it methodically in the grate, and then he 
 collected all the burning cinders scattered about, 
 that they might not injure the carpet. Afterwards 
 he turned towards the marquise and made her a 
 courtly bow. 
 
 " Madame, may I ask to whom I have the honour 
 of speaking ? " 
 
 " Monsieur," replied Madame de BeaufFremont, 
 "I do not know who you are, but you certainly 
 have not the appearance of a robber, and you have 
 shown yourself most careful not to spoil my carpet ; 
 yet I fail to understand why you should enter my 
 room in the middle of the night." 
 
 " Madame, it was not from any desire to come 
 here that I was forced to descend your chimney. 
 Will you now have the kindness to show me the 
 way to the hall door ? " And he proceeded to 
 draw a pistol out of his belt and take one of the 
 lighted candles. 
 
 " But, monsieur " 
 
 " Kindly hurry, madame ; we will go downstairs 
 together, and you will order your hall porter to 
 open the door." 
 
 " Speak lower, monsieur, I implore you ; the 
 Marquis de BeaufFremont might hear you ! " ex- 
 claimed the terrified woman, trembling with fright. 
 
62 HIS COSTLY OFFERING [chap, m 
 
 " Put on your cloak, Madame; do not remain in 
 your dressing-gown only ; it is an exceedingly cold 
 night." 
 
 The programme was carried out according to 
 his orders, but the Marquise was so overcome 
 that she had to sit down in the porter's room after 
 the man had departed. Presently there was a tap 
 on the street window. 
 
 " Mr. Porter," said the same voice, " I am 
 Cartouche. Do you hear ? I have been this night 
 about two miles over the roofs, chased by spies. 
 Do not imagine for a moment, if you please, that 
 I had any motive of gallantry for my visit, or that 
 I am Madame de Beaufifremont's lover ; if you do, 
 you will have reason to repent it. There will be 
 news of me to-morrow morning by post." 
 
 Madame de Beauflremont went up and woke her 
 husband, who declared that she had suffered from 
 a bad dream or a nightmare ; but sure enough, 
 two or three days after, she received a courteous 
 letter of thanks, extremely well written and 
 expressed, and accompanied by a safe-conduct for 
 herself and all her family. With the letter was a 
 box containing a very fine diamond, which was 
 valued at 2,000 crowns, and which Madame de 
 Beauffremont sent to the treasurer of the H6tel 
 Dieu for the benefit of the sick. 
 
 In this affair, as you perceive, every one be- 
 haved with great discretion ! 
 
 On another occasion I had the pleasure of an 
 interview with Madame de Maintenon, this time in 
 
VISIT TO MADAME DE MAINTENON 63 
 
 her apartment at Versailles. She spoke so nicely 
 of our family and of the great esteem in which 
 she held them. When the hour for the king's 
 daily visit drew near, my grandmother rose to take 
 leave, and to escort me to the quarters of the Master 
 of the Horse, where I was to lunch with my cousins 
 of Lorraine, but Madame (she was always spoken 
 to in the third person) said quietly, " Stay, Marquise." 
 She did not refer to the fact that in that case 
 his Majesty could not fail to see me. 
 
 The monarch presently appeared without being 
 announced ; the doors were simply thrown open. 
 He had, however, been preceded by a gentleman-in- 
 waiting, who came in some minutes before and 
 bowed silently to Madame, just in the fashion in 
 which dinner is announced to the king and queen. 
 
 Madame de Maintenon went forward to greet 
 his Majesty, who walked rather lame, though he 
 bowed to her with great grace. 
 
 " This is a young lady," she said, " whom I 
 have taken the liberty to detain here, that she may 
 be presented to the king. It is needless to mention 
 her name." 
 
 " I have reason to think that she is of the offspring 
 of my god-daughter, so there is a spiritual connec- 
 tion between mademoiselle and myself But we 
 are relations in another degree also," he added, 
 looking at me with an air as much as to say, " You 
 are to be congratulated." 
 
 " I would ask his Majesty's permission for you 
 to kiss his hand," said my grandmother — this with 
 
64 GALLANTRY OF LOUIS XIV [chap, i.i 
 
 ;in air of solicitation, but quite free from any trace 
 of obsequiousness. 
 
 The king held out his hand palm downwards, 
 ;is if he meant mc to kiss it, instead of which he 
 promptly seized mine, and raised it to his lips. He 
 then, with great kindness and gallantry, still holding 
 it, brought my hand down to my side, holding it 
 long enough to make me understand that I was 
 to accept his homage but not to return it.' 
 
 Nanon, the celebrated and important waiting- 
 woman, now came forward and whispered some- 
 thing into the ear of her mistress, and presently 
 Madame, widow of Monsieur the king's brother, 
 was announced.' 
 
 Madame de Maintenon rose to receive her, and 
 motioned her to a chair, but she remained im- 
 movable, standing in her own place, with a manner 
 as cold and dry as a north-east wind. This 
 princess was got up as an amazon, with a man's 
 coat, trimmed with braid at every seam. She had 
 a skirt to match, a wig in three shades, and a hat 
 exactly like the king's, which, however, she did 
 not remove while bowing all round to us. 
 
 ' To-day, the 7th of the third decade of the month of \'end6miaire, in 
 the eleventh year of the French RepubHc, 1 add these lines on my 
 return from the Tuileries, where General Buonaparte kissed my hand. 
 He sent me word that he must see me, and has promised me the 
 restoration of our sequestered forests. I am overcome with weakness 
 and fat^igue, and cannot write, nor even dictate, the details of this 
 singular interview. Enough to say that the First Consul of the 
 Kepublic received mc with the same consideration as did King 
 Louis the Great just oighty-five years earlier. 
 
 ' Charlotte of Bavaria, mother of the Regent, died io 17a:. 
 
THE MOTHER OF THE REGENT 65 
 
 This very plain scion of royalty wore riding- 
 boots and had a whip in her hand. She was 
 badly made, badly dressed, and badly disposed 
 towards every one. Her face was like a red apple, 
 no nose to speak of, very little chin, red cheeks 
 and bright black eyes, but with very little look 
 of intelligence. 
 
 Madame de Froulay asked the king's permission 
 to present me to her Royal Highness. She made 
 me a bow like a man would, and began asking after 
 the health of the Grand Prior de Froulay, of whom 
 I knew nothing, so I remained as dumb as a fish, 
 and to her dying day she declared I was more 
 stupid than a carp. 
 
 She doubtless wrote this to her German friends 
 and relations ; but any way, it would not be more 
 false than all the statements she dared to ma,ke 
 against Madame de Maintenon and the Duchesse 
 de Bourgogne, also against my grandmother, 
 whom she always treated very badly. She liked 
 to run down everything French, and bring them 
 to the level of her Counts-Palatine, and she 
 dreamt and spoke of nothing but the Holy Empire 
 of Germany. Would to God she had stayed there 
 all her life ! We should then have been spared the 
 regent and all his worthless progeny. 
 
 The diet of this illustrious lady was largely 
 composed of salt beef and soup made of beer, also 
 a certain horrible ragout of fermented cabbage, 
 which made the whole castle stink when she 
 partook of it. She called it " Schaucraout" and 
 
 5 
 
66 HER GERMAN TASTES [chap, m 
 
 used to oblige her guests to eat it ; indeed, she 
 made a sort of patriotic persecution of it, so every 
 one tried to evade her dinners. 
 
 Although she wrote and said nasty things about 
 my grandmother, she was always outwardly polite 
 to her, though the latter was never taken in by 
 her civilities. Madame used to persuade her some- 
 times to stay for supper, when my poor grand- 
 mother had to eat the most horrible messes — prunes 
 and pears cooked with lard and onions, salads made 
 of raw herrings and apples soaked in oil and 
 mustard, pasties of otters' flesh and snails, and jam 
 made of parsnips and honey with red wine. She 
 powdered her melon with Spanish snufif 
 
 If you felt ill after such a supper, she had 
 recourse to preserved mummy, which was always 
 kept ready to hand. She swore by this ; indeed, 
 it was often used in those days in theriaca.^ I 
 remember when my father was ambassador at 
 Venice he ordered some theriaca to be prepared 
 without that ingredient, and was told it was 
 indispensable. It was a stomachic confection, in- 
 vented by Andromachus, Nero's doctor, and it 
 had always contained a portion of embalmed human 
 flesh. I was mercifully spared the German ragouts 
 and hashes, and went to have fruit and cream 
 with Miles, de Lorraine, my uncle the Prince de 
 Lorraine being at that time Grand Master of the 
 Horse. He had assembled his relations for an 
 entertainment, specially designed for their amuse- 
 
 ' An opiate composed of many ingredients, in vogue at that time. 
 
THE LEARNED DOG (>7 
 
 ment, of a troupe of performing dogs dressed 
 as shepherds and shepherdesses. These young 
 princesses were very charming girls : one married 
 the Due de Bouillon, the other became the first 
 wife of Marlchal Richelieu. Her only child was 
 Madame d'Egmont, of whom you will hear later. 
 
 Just as we sat down to our luncheon who should 
 arrive, to our intense annoyance, but our aunt 
 d'Elbceuf, a fat old woman of about sixty, who 
 said she had come to enjoy herself with us. She 
 said she would only partake of meat, roasted, with 
 Spanish wine, but she ate quails cooked with 
 jasmin, two or three plates of stewed fruit, masse- 
 pains, macaroons, small cakes, and wound up 
 her collation with five or six big pears. She then 
 ordered the dancing dogs to be brought before 
 her. 
 
 " Illustrious princess," said the showman, " here 
 is an animal who will tell you the date of the year, 
 the day of the month, and the hour of the day." 
 
 " What a miraculous animal ! You must sell 
 him to me at once. If you do not, I will have 
 you hunted out of Versailles." 
 
 " But, madame, he can also tell the age of 
 women " 
 
 " Horrid beast ! " cried she, giving the learned 
 dog a surreptitious kick. " Take him away, and 
 shut him up ; he is a nasty, dirty animal." 
 
 This Madame d'Elbceuf died from a surfeit of 
 medlars, a curious thing to overeat oneself with. 
 
 Some days after our return we heard of the 
 
68 DEATH OF LOUIS XIV [chap, m 
 
 death of the Due de Berry, for whom we wore 
 far deeper mourning than his wife did. 
 
 From the time of his grandson's ' death the 
 king's health visibly declined. He lost his colour 
 and his appetite, and faded gradually away, and 
 died on September ist of the following year. 
 
 Oh ! great king, the most religious of monarchs, 
 the glory of France and of the century, sophists and 
 detractors may outrage your memory by daring 
 to say that indecent joy profaned your obsequies ; 
 those who remember the desolation and grief of 
 your people, when the cry rang through Paris, 
 " The King is dead," can give the lie to that 
 statement. But it is ever thus with the enemies 
 of Christianity ; they always display the same evil 
 spirit. The Cardinal de Rohan told us that it 
 was he who proposed that the dying sovereign 
 should touch the sick and scrofulous children 
 brought to Versailles for that purpose, and at four 
 in the morning they were carried to his bedside. 
 The king was sinking fast, with dimmed eyes, 
 he could not even see the miserable little objects 
 before him, but two bishops guided his hands and 
 repeated the formula, " The king touches, God 
 will heal." 
 
 The fatigue caused his Majesty to faint, and 
 the news went abroad that he was dead, and 
 Madame de Maintenon left at once for St. Cyr. 
 When they came later to fetch her, the king having 
 revived again, they found her in her chapel, where 
 she had spent the last fourteen hours, and yet the 
 
MOURNING FOR THE KING 69 
 
 Due de St. Simon, in his Memoirs, makes out that 
 it was her heartlessness which made her abandon 
 the dying monarch. 
 
 All Europe mourned for the great king. The 
 Emperor Charles VI. ordered all amusements, even 
 the carnival, to be forbidden during the period ; 
 while the daughter of the Regent, herself lately a 
 widow, indulged in festivals and dancing at the 
 Luxembourg, though her own late husband had 
 the honour of being the grandson of the dead king, 
 and yet I really believe the Duchesse de Berry was 
 not the worst of that Orleans family. 
 
 The Miles, de Lorraine and myself determined 
 to be present at the first sitting of Parliament, and 
 the president did his best to procure suitable seats 
 for us, but the regent had reserved the best for 
 Lord and Lady Stair, and we were much too 
 confirmed Jacobites to meet them ! We refused 
 to be in their company, and they found us places 
 in a window near the tribune. 
 
 Never shall I forget that scene. The "young 
 monarch was lifted out of his carriage by the Master 
 of the Horse, and received in the arms of the 
 Grand Chamberlain, and placed on his throne, his 
 governess, the Duchesse de Ventadour, one of our- 
 aunts, being seated at his feet. The king was 
 dressed in a violet jacket, with long hanging sleeves, 
 and a violet crape cap lined with cloth-of-gold. He 
 had leading-strings of gold cord, which fell to the 
 hem of his robe. This, however, was only a mark 
 of his youth ; every one knew he was old enough 
 
70 ACCESSION OF LOUIS XV [chap, m 
 
 to walk alone. The blue ribbon with the cross 
 of St. Louis and that of the Saint Esprit was 
 hung round his neck, and his natural brown curls 
 fell over his shoulders. He was a lovely child, 
 and his pictures rarely did him justice. This infant 
 king began by listening attentively to the long 
 harangue, but then he fixed his eyes to the left 
 on the Cardinal de Noailles, and would not look 
 at any one else. The old Mardchal de Villeroy 
 began making him signs to look at those on his 
 right hand, upon which his Majesty became 
 impatient, and exclaimed, " Let me alone!" These 
 were the first words uttered by Louis XV. before 
 his assembled Senate — words which convey all the 
 great fundamental law of hereditary monarchy ! 
 
 But enough of the Parliament and succession ; 
 let me return to the gossip of Paris, 
 
 The Comtesse de Saulx had been always 
 considered very eccentric. She lived mostly alone, 
 and had all sorts of occult occupations and strange 
 habits. She resided in the sombre old Castle of 
 Lux, and sometimes disappeared from all her house- 
 hold, no one ever being able to discover what 
 became of her. At the end of six or seven days of 
 profound silence, her bell would be heard, and she 
 would be found seated in her room just as usual, 
 and in the clothes she had worn when last seen. 
 
 The Prince de Cond6, governor of the province, 
 and M. Bouchut, the steward, always declared that 
 the sharpest people in the country had failed to 
 penetrate the mystery. 
 
COMTESSE DE SAULX 71 
 
 One Saturday night the countess retired to 
 her room, and dismissed her waiting- women, saying 
 she was not yet ready to undress. They heard her 
 draw the bolts, and as the young women walked 
 away they remarked on the occurrence, Madame 
 de Saulx being well known never to read or 
 write in her bedroom. 
 
 " Can you understand her shutting herself up in 
 that old tower ? " 
 
 *' God alone knows why," replied the other. 
 
 The bedroom was in one of the towers, with a 
 single window strongly barred, and the chimney 
 was an old-fashioned one with bars half-way up. 
 The ante-chamber to the turret was a large room 
 occupied by Mile. d'Aguesseau, an imbecile lady, 
 a protdgde of her niece. 
 
 Next morning at seven o'clock the maids came 
 as usual into the ante-chamber, and found Mile. 
 d'Aguesseau unconscious on the floor in her night 
 clothes, and in her clenched hand was the bell- 
 rope, which she had evidently torn down. When 
 she came to her senses, at least such senses as 
 returned to her, all she could say was she had had 
 a great fright. The vicar was sent for and all the 
 notables of the district, and they decided to break 
 open the door, though they all saw plainly that, the 
 key was in the lock, and it was known to be bolted 
 on the other side. The room was in perfect 
 order, the bed had not been slept in, but the 
 Comtesse de Saulx was never seen again. 
 
 The two candles placed by the maid on a little 
 
72 HER MYSTERIOUS END [chap, in 
 
 table had evidently been blown out in the night, 
 as they calculated that they must have burned for 
 about two and a half hours. One of her slippers 
 lay on the floor (I s;iw it afterwards at her 
 son's house), and that was all that was left of her. 
 Her son Cardinal de Tavanne began making a 
 judicial inquiry, but he was advised to leave it 
 alone, for fear of compromising the honour of the 
 family. 
 
 Some spoke of a connection with the gypsies, 
 others of the Diacre P^ris, or a vampire was 
 suggested, but no one ever managed to explain how 
 a woman five feet four inches in height managed to 
 evaporate and leave no trace. It was long talked of 
 in the country, but the CardinaJ told me a hundred 
 times he knew no more about it than we did. 
 
 The relationship of the de Breteuils with Mard- 
 chal Comte de Thomond brought us perpetually in 
 contact with the Jacobite refugees in France, and 
 the H6tel de Breteuil was always open to them. 
 
 When the Pretender under the name of the 
 Chevalier St. George managed to reach Paris, he 
 did us the honour of sleeping there. He was a fine 
 young man of twenty-five or twenty-six years of 
 age, but as he was disguised as an Abb6, he dis- 
 pleased my cousin Emilie greatly. He addressed 
 us some complimentary remarks, and spent the night 
 in conference with my uncle. It was my father 
 who, assisted by my uncle, later on negotiated his 
 marriage with the granddaughter of Sobieski. 
 
 The Pretender sent me a rare and curious 
 
THE PRETENDER 73 
 
 present, a noble-a-la-rose. These coins were 
 the size of a double louis, and had engraved on 
 them the figure of an armed knight with a rose 
 in his hand. Milord Marechal told us that 
 the Stuarts had carried off all the collection of 
 nobles-a-la-rose, as well as the British insigna and 
 the Crown jewels. I learned long after from 
 Walpole that none of the Crown jewels exhibited 
 in the Tower of London date further back than 
 the Kings of Hanover. It always made him blush 
 and tortured his antiquarian feelings to hear the 
 bragging guardian of these so-called royal jewels 
 repeating, " Treasures without equal, eight hundred 
 years old," when the diamonds of Edward and 
 Richard are mere replicas of the original. 
 
 But to return to the time when I was still a 
 young girl at the H6tel de Breteuil. My grand- 
 mother de Froulay said to me one day, " Sweet- 
 heart, it seems to me that we must see about 
 arranging a marriage for you." 
 
 I felt myself blushing all over. Next day my 
 father arrived. 
 
 " My child," he said, " there is a match proposed 
 for you, which appears to me to be suitable. I 
 beg you to listen to whatever your aunt may have 
 to say on the subject." 
 
 Two days later the baroness remarked, " Have 
 you ever noticed the Marquis de Laval Bois- 
 dauphin ? He would not be sorry to marry you." 
 
 " But I should be much more grieved if he did," 
 replied L 
 
74 THE FAMILY OF DE CREQUY [chap. 1 1 
 
 " Well, I can understand that, and I will not 
 refer to him again ; but you have another suitor, 
 whom you have never seen or thought of. Your 
 grandmother thinks it would be well for you to 
 meet him at the Abbaye de Panthemont, which 
 would remove any awkwardness. He is young, of 
 good birth, and chief of his family. Indeed, you 
 have only to study the history of the grand officers 
 of the Crown to learn all about the de Crequys." 
 
 " Indeed, my dear aunt, I am already ac- 
 quainted with that fine genealogy. They were 
 a brilliant family, the only one left in Europe, I 
 think, whose name is mentioned in the chapter of 
 Charlemagne. Cardinals, marshals, dukes, and 
 princes have sprung from this race. By the way, 
 why is this man not a duke .'' " 
 
 " Apparently he did not care about it ; titles are 
 of less account now with all these new creations. 
 The old names mark nobility now, not titles ; and 
 the de Crequys have always been entitled to call 
 themselves ' cousins of the king,' which gives 
 them all the privileges of hereditary dukes. This 
 therefore is a rank they hold by birth, not by 
 favour. Our last two kings have thrown the 
 ermine mantle over so many ignoble shoulders." 
 Here the divine Emilie came in, and my aunt put 
 her finger on her lips with a look of warning. 
 
 " My pretty one," said my grandmother next 
 day, " put on your new flowered dress, with rosettes 
 in your hair. I will send you some of dark green 
 and amaranth colour. We are going to visit the 
 
THE MARQUISE DE CREQUY 7S 
 
 ladies of Panthemont — I promised them to take 
 you to see them." 
 
 " Why can I not go also, dear aunt ? " said Emilie. 
 
 My grandmother hesitated a moment. " Certainly, 
 my dearest," she said, and showed no annoyance 
 nor made any objection, as usual. This gave me 
 food for reflection. 
 
 The dowager was always great on bygone 
 customs. She had first seen my grandfather 
 through the bars of the Convent of Bellechase, and 
 thought it decorous that M. de Crequy should 
 see me in like manner, as if I also was still a 
 schoolgirl in a convent. 
 
 We obtained a permit from the Cardinal 
 de Noailles, and entered the cloisters. We 
 paid our respects to the abbess, the coadjutrice, 
 and the prioress. The latter was Madame de 
 Crequy-Lesdiguieres. 
 
 It had previously been arranged that her cousin 
 should call to see her that day, and we found the 
 Marquis de Crequy in deep conversation with his 
 relative. He simply bowed to us. 
 
 He looked our way several times, but with such 
 discretion that even Mile, de Breteuil's sharp eyes 
 discovered nothing. 
 
 I gave just one glance, and made up my mind 
 then and there. 
 
 He awaited our departure before leaving himself, 
 but it afterwards appeared that he had taken Mile, 
 de Breteuil for Mile, de Froulay ; in other words, 
 that he had mistaken Emilie for me. This cooled 
 
76 HIS ABSURD MISTAKE [chap, hi 
 
 his ardour considerably, and the negotiations seemed 
 likely to fall through. I was much distressed at 
 this — may 1 not say so openly to my grandson, 
 having said it often to his grandfather."* 
 
 " I should prefer to marry Mile, de Breteuil," 
 said he to the Due de Laon ; " her cousin looks 
 like an ugly boy. Do let the Baron de Breteuil 
 know this. I am aware that in so doing I should 
 lose both wealth and rank, but I wish to love the 
 woman I wed. Mile, de Breteuil is adorable, and 
 Mile, de Froulay is not attractive." (How often 
 have we laughed over this episode !) 
 
 The Due de Laon could not make out what 
 it all meant, but my aunt caught the meaning at 
 once and gave a full explanation. However, my 
 grandmother was offended. 
 
 " I consider M. de Crequy much to blame," said 
 she. " Emilie was in deep mourning for the king, 
 so it was apparent to any one that her mother must 
 be still living, while my granddaughter was in a 
 flowered brocade of all the seven colours of the 
 rainbow. What did that mean, if not, that having 
 had the misfortune to lose her mother, she could 
 not wear court mourning ? I ask you, how could 
 any one make such a mistake ? But men nowadays 
 have no sense. I thought better of the Marquis 
 de Crequy ; he must be an ignoramus. You answer 
 that Emilie looks much younger, and that he had 
 other things to think of than mourning etiquette. 
 But all the same, whose fault is it ? M. de 
 Cr^quy's, and his alone." 
 
DUCHESSE DE CREQUY-LESDIGUIERES 77 
 
 And this was her opinion for the next fifteen 
 years — that is, till the end of her life. 
 
 I thought I could tell you many more details, 
 but though I am now an old wornan, my dear 
 child, my heart is young, and I cannot think of 
 the happy years I spent with your grandfather 
 without tears. I have had the misfortune to 
 survive him, and I cannot speak of him without 
 sorrow. Perhaps, too, I should only exaggerate. 
 You will learn to know your grandfather best by 
 means of these Memoirs. Facts speak more 
 eloquently than words. 
 
 After seven or eight months of investigations 
 and other preliminaries considered indispensable 
 by my relations, it was decided that we should 
 pay a visit of ceremony to the Duchesse de 
 Crequy-Lesdiguieres, because she was dowager of 
 the eldest branch of the family, and M. de Crequy 
 wished to pay her every respect. This beautiful 
 duchess, though one of the most distinguished 
 and elegant of women, had great simplicity of 
 manner. The chief aim of her life had never 
 been to shine in society. She was born in magnifi- 
 cence and had always lived in the same, but since 
 the death of those she held most dear, the world 
 and its splendours were of little account to her. 
 
 She came to meet us in the great entrance hall, 
 filled with equerries and pages. The walls were 
 hung with cloth-of-gold and arabesques of coral 
 and mother-of-pearl. It was as regal as a royal 
 palace. She was in deep mourning for the late 
 
78 H6TEL DE LESDIGUIERES [chap, in 
 
 king, and so were all her household. A bevy of 
 young ladies, mostly from St. Cyr, waited on her. 
 
 When we were seated in her own room, M. de 
 Cr^quy made me a sign to look at a portrait, by 
 Mignard, of a very handsome young man. The 
 duchess noticed the direction of my eyes, but she 
 smiled kindly, with an air of gentle resignation. 
 It was her only and lamented son. 
 
 Little was said during the visit : my grandmother 
 was one of those stiff kind of women who con- 
 sidered rigidity of manner dignified. Madame de 
 Breteuil was naturally silent, and M. de Crequy 
 found it hard to carry on the whole conversation 
 alone. I turned my attention to inspecting the 
 room. 
 
 The furniture was covered with Indian brocade 
 of various shades of grey ; the carpet was grey pile 
 with a fringe of gold, while what was then called 
 the "centre carpet" was composed of ermine. 
 My uncle de Breteuil declared it must have been 
 worth 90,000 livres, judging by the cost of a 
 ducal mantle. Ermine is becoming exceedingly 
 rare ; the animal is such a very small one, a 
 cloak with all the little tails will cost 500 or 600 
 louis. It can only be procured by giving an order 
 long beforehand. The anointing of Louis XV. 
 was retarded some years for want of this fur 
 for the court mantles, and at the coronation of 
 Louis XIV. they actually used cat skin. 
 
 This first visit to the H6tel de LesdiguiSres 
 was before Christmas, and we proposed to get 
 
MY MARRIAGE 79 
 
 married before Lent, when my aunt de Breteuil 
 St. Croix upset everything ty announcing her 
 marriage with the Marquis de Vieuville ; and this 
 wedding was rather urgent, as, owing to the age 
 of the bridegroom, it could not well be delayed. 
 We felt it would be ridiculous to have two such 
 contrasting marriages taking place at the same 
 time, and I was obliged to give way to my aunt, 
 so, to M. de Crequy's disgust, our wedding was 
 fixed for Easter. 
 
 The morning after my aunt's nuptials she started 
 off at seven, in such a hurry was she in to be 
 present at the little king's levde!' 
 
 " What are they saying in Paris ? " asked the 
 Duchesse de Ventadour. 
 
 The new- Marquise was so absorbed in the 
 delight of her privilege of entree for the first time 
 in her life, she made no reply. The little king 
 repeated his governess's question. 
 
 " Sire," replied our uncle the Marechal de Tess^, 
 " when my niece left Paris to pay her court to 
 you, they were saying the first Mass ! " 
 
 On Thursday of Easter Week we were married 
 with great pomp in the chapel of the Hotel de 
 Lesdigui^res, by the Cardinal de Rohan and the 
 Cardinal de Gevres, which was considered a very 
 great distinction. 
 
 We went to live, under the chaperonage of my 
 grandmother, in the Hotel de Crequy-Canaples in 
 the Rue de Crenelle, where the house had been 
 redecorated by his cousin the duchess. 
 
8o WEDDING GIFTS [chap, m 
 
 The hangings and the covers of the furniture 
 were cloth -of-gold ornamented with vine branches 
 of crimson velvet ; but this was nothing to her 
 wedding present to me, for she gave me a hundred 
 thousand crowns' worth of diamonds, and all her 
 family jewels came to us besides at her death, which 
 occurred very unexpectedly two months later. She 
 was only fifty-two. She was a grandmother at 
 twenty-eight, and it was for her that Madame de 
 Sevigne composed the device of the orange tree, 
 with the words, " The fruit does not destroy the 
 flower." This device, rendered into Greek by 
 Menage, was worked into many of her tapestries. 
 Your grandfather had a real affection for her, and 
 I have always remembered her with loving regret. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 Young Arouet-=— The Duchesse de Berry, Daughter of the Regent 
 — Madame de Parabere — Comte Antoine de Horn — His Arrest 
 and Trial— Petition to the Regent— His Terrible Fate — Mile, de 
 Quinaut — Mile, de Vertus — The Legacy- — ^Resignation of the 
 Marquis de Cr^quy — The Princesse de Monaco — M. de Matignon, 
 Bishop of Lisieux — His Sayings. 
 
 A LAWYER who had formerly been employed 
 by the families of Richelieu, de Breteuil, and 
 de Froulay, had left a good-for-nothing son. This 
 young man was supposed to be the author of an 
 impertinent satire, and had been banished in con- 
 sequence to Tulles, in Limousin. 
 
 His mother, Madame Arouet, was not sorry, as 
 he only wasted his time in Paris writing sonnets. 
 She had been beautiful in her youth, and protected 
 by the Due de Richelieu, and through him we 
 first heard of this young Arouet, better known 
 later as M. de Voltaire. 
 
 One day, in the presence of my grandmother, 
 M. de Crequy said, " I don't blame the little poet ; 
 every word he wrote about the Due d'Orleans 
 was the truth. He is an infamous man, and 
 consorts with the lowest people. He gets drunk 
 every night ; falls on the floor at the ball in the 
 
 8i 6 
 
82 DUCHESSE DE BERRY [chap, iv 
 
 opera house, and then scandalises all Paris by 
 going to communion at St. Eustache." 
 
 " Marquis, how can you relate such things before 
 your wife ! " 
 
 " 1 have a reason for it," he replied, and con- 
 tinued, " His wife was a bastard, his son is a fool, 
 and his daughters are no better than their father." 
 
 " Marquis ! Marquis ! " cried my grandmother, 
 " I cannot permit you to speak in this manner of 
 the daughters of the Regent. It is enough to 
 bring about a revolution," 
 
 The revolution, as far as I was concerned, 
 was that M. de Crequy refused to allow me 
 to be presented to the Orleans family. Conse- 
 quently I never knew any but the two last 
 Duchesses d'Orleans, of whom I will tell you 
 later. 
 
 The next two years passed by for me in all 
 the serenity of a peaceful and charming home, and 
 we should have been perfectly happy but for the 
 conduct of the Duchesse de Berry, who humbled 
 all the royal family and every respectable person 
 by her behaviour. 
 
 This infamous woman was like a hideous, shame- 
 ful nightmare to every family of distinction, who 
 felt as if one of their own relatives were bringing 
 disgrace among them all. 
 
 The duchess had indulged in drink till her 
 constitution was ruined by the raw spirit she 
 consumed in quantities, and she fell seriously ill. 
 The Cure of St. Sulpice at once repaired to her 
 
HER LAST ILLNESS 83 
 
 palace to perform his clerical duties at her bed- 
 side, but the Vicomtesse de M impertinently 
 
 ordered him away, and declared that the princess 
 would not see him. He therefore was obliged 
 to forbid her receiving the last Sacraments, and 
 went to tell the Due d' Orleans the state of the 
 case. The Regent at once ordered a carriage to 
 be sent to fetch the Cardinal de Noailles. The 
 latter arrived in his own coach, as he declined 
 to drive in one which had the arms of Orleans 
 upon it. They were closeted together for some 
 time ; presently the door was opened, and the 
 Cardinal passed out, and turning towards the 
 assembled courtiers and in the presence of the 
 regent, he said, " M. le Cure, in virtue of my 
 authority as Archbishop of Paris, I forbid you 
 to administer the Sacraments of the Church to 
 Madame la Duchesse de Berry unless the Comte 
 
 de Riom and the Vicomtesse de M are at 
 
 once expelled from the Luxembourg by her Royal 
 Highness's orders." 
 
 You may imagine what consternation this caused ! 
 Meanwhile the duchess was dying, and imperiously 
 demanding the Sacrament to be given to her. 
 She gave way to the wildest passion, broke and 
 bit everything within her reach in her ungovernable 
 fury. The cries and imprecations from the sick- 
 room could be heard by her footmen and pages 
 in the antechamber. 
 
 The unhappy Due d'Orleans, who adored her, 
 and who feared that she would be refused Christian 
 
84 HER DEATH [chap, iv 
 
 burial, again sent for the prelates, but they 
 continued obdurate. The duchess would not even 
 receive her father, who stood outside her door 
 listening to her oaths and curses. This continued 
 for five or six days. Think of the scandal I And 
 this woman was a royal personage, a daughter of 
 St. Louis, a widow of a son of France, and yet 
 the clergy were compelled to refuse her the last 
 offices of the Church. They say, and with truth, 
 that this Regency struck the first blow for the 
 revolution of '93. 
 
 The duchess's youth and health enabled her 
 otherwise worn-out constitution to last about six 
 weeks, and all the time she continued to act in 
 the most outrageous manner. Knowing that her 
 parents would not allow her to marry M. de Riom, 
 she clamoured incessantly for leave to do so. At 
 last the Regent lost his temper, and sent his 
 daughter's favourite across the frontier into Spain, 
 and Riom's accomplice, the viscountess, was sent 
 to her own home, where her husband refused to 
 receive her, nor would any convent take her in. 
 Not that she was poor, for she and M. de Riom 
 had, like devouring wolves, preyed on all classes, 
 with the authority of their royal mistress, and 
 amassed large sums. 
 
 The princess died July 22nd, 1719. None of 
 the bishops would conduct the funeral, and the 
 Regent was thankful when the monks of St. Denis 
 allowed the remains to be deposited in the royal 
 vault. 
 
THE GARDENS OF THE LUXEMBOURG 8S 
 
 Directly after her death the gardens of the 
 Luxembourg were given back to the people of 
 Paris, the princess in her Hfetime having insisted 
 on closing all the gates. 
 
 One fine afternoon M. de Crequy took me to 
 these gardens with my grandmother and my cousins 
 de Breteuil. Chairs were brought for us into the 
 long alley. Presently we saw a fine-looking 
 woman, elegantly dressed in mourning, loaded with 
 jet and steel trimmings. She was surrounded by a 
 party of gentlemen — abbes, counsellors, musqueteers, 
 and pages — while walking beside her, holding her 
 hand, was a handsome young German (you will 
 soon hear of his melancholy end, his name was 
 Count Antoine de Horn). The servant who carried 
 her train was dressed in crimson and silver ; and, 
 accompanied by her gay retinue, she came and sat 
 down on some red velvet chairs bearing the arms 
 of Orleans close beside us. 
 
 She had passed in front of us, but my grand- 
 mother and M. de Crequy took no notice of 
 her. 
 
 I asked my husband to tell me who it was. 
 
 "It is a woman of quality, whose name cannot 
 be mentioned among her relations,'' replied he in 
 a clear, cold voice. 
 
 There was a silence, and then the lady whis- 
 pered loudly to one of her young men, " I think 
 that is M. Paintendre," naming an equerry of the 
 Due de Chartres who had a certain resemblance 
 to my husband, which in a measure annoyed him. 
 
86 COUNT ANTOINE DE HORN [chap, iv 
 
 This the malicious woman said with an air of 
 great effrontery. 
 
 " Ah ! cousin, good morning ! " cried Count 
 Antoine tactlessly to M. de Criquy, who bowed 
 without speaking. 
 
 "It is your aunt de ParabSre," said Madame 
 de Froulay to me, with disgust ; "let us move 
 our seats elsewhere." 
 
 The Marquise de Parabdre was so notorious 
 in the time of the regent that her husband's 
 family would not allow her name to be mentioned. 
 She was a daughter of the Marquis de Vieuville, 
 who married my aimt de Breteuil. She was 
 completely ostracised in society. The Duchesse 
 de la Fertd used to say of her, " I can under- 
 stand her keeping officers and light horse men — 
 that is simply ridiculous ; but to have lovers 
 among footmen and princes of the blood is un- 
 pardonable ! " 
 
 It is related that the Regent found her and 
 Count Horn together in her boudoir. 
 
 " Leave the room, monsieur," he said, with an 
 accent of scorn. 
 
 " Our ancestors would have said. Let tis leave," 
 replied the lover, with extraordinary assurance. 
 
 From that moment his doom was sealed. 
 
 In 1720 the house of Horn consisted of 
 the reigning Prince Maximilian-Emmanuel, aged 
 twenty-four, and his younger brother Count 
 Antoine, aged twenty-two. The mother of these 
 two young men, had been a Princess de Ligne, 
 
COUNT ANTOINE DE HORN 87 
 
 and they were related to the Croliys, Egmonts, 
 Crequys, and many other farniUes. Their arms bore 
 quarterings of the most illustrious names of France, 
 and of the Netherlands. Count Antoine Horn 
 began his career in the service of Austria, but having 
 fallen under the displeasure of his elder brother, 
 the latter imprisoned, him in the Castle of Wert. 
 After six months' cruel captivity he managed to 
 escape by killing two of his jailors, and with a 
 mind disordered by his sufferings, he committed 
 all sorts of follies, and finally returned to his 
 brother, who, taking compassion on him, and 
 having reason to believe he had imprisoned him 
 unjustly, took him into his castle, and gradually 
 his reason returned. But he always remained very 
 eccentric, and subject to bursts of ungovernable 
 temper. He finally came to Paris, a fortune having 
 been left him by the Princesse d'Epinoy, and took 
 a fine house on the Quai des Th6atins. He came 
 to call on your grandfather, who received him 
 with politeness, but would not introduce him to 
 me, as he had brought no letters of introduction 
 from his elder brother. However, the men of 
 the family all liked him very much, and went to 
 his supper parties. We ladies never saw him 
 except at church, where he came regularly to see 
 us come out. It was impossible to overlook him 
 because of his great height. He was very hand- 
 some, pale^ with ardent eyes. His relations with 
 Madame de Parab^re, as well as with other high- 
 born ladies, were notorious. 
 
88 HIS TRIAL [chap, iv 
 
 This gay and gallant young man used often to 
 disguise himself at night, and after a time found 
 that he was being shadowed. M. de Cr^quy 
 spoke about it to M. d'Argenson, the head of the 
 police, who replied, " Do not mix yourself up in 
 this matter, unless you can get him to leave 
 Paris. I know nothing — I can do nothing ; but 
 he is lost if he does not go away. That is all 
 I can tell you." 
 
 I remember it was during Passion Week they 
 came to tell M. de Crdquy that Count Antoine had 
 been detained at the Conciergerie, and was to be 
 taken to La Tournelle ' on a charge of the murder 
 of a Jew usurer. 
 
 Your grandfather, recollecting the words of M. 
 d'Argenson, had his suspicions. He at once sum- 
 moned all the relations and connections of the 
 house of Horn, and a deputation was formed, who 
 repaired to the President de Mesmes, There 
 they learnt that the Jew had died of his injuries. 
 Consternation prevailed, and they discussed the 
 advisability of going to see the Regent. A plea 
 was put forward that Count Horn was not always 
 accountable for his actions. 
 
 The evening before the trial we assembled at 
 the court, fifty-seven persons in all, to salute the 
 judges. 
 
 It was a sad experience for me. All were hopeful, 
 save Madame de Beauffreinont, who was gifted with 
 
 ' La Tournelle was the court of justice of Paris, instituted in 
 1436. 
 
TERRIBLE SENTENCE 89 
 
 second sight and had a horrible presentiment of 
 what was about to happen. 
 
 This ceremony of saluting the judges was a very 
 strange one. They were assembled in the Cabinet 
 St. Louis, and returned our bows with curtseys like 
 women. This was the fashion for the gentlemen 
 of the robe, and also for the Knights of the Saint 
 Esprit, who wore long cloaks ; so in my day 
 young lords (who were kept till quite grown up in 
 long tunics) were taught to curtsey like girls, in 
 case they ever should attain to the ribbon of the 
 order. 
 
 The result of the examination proved that Count 
 Horn had wounded the man in the shoulder during 
 a tavern brawl, but it was the daggers of others that 
 caused the death. He may have deserved punish- 
 ment, but certainly not sentence of death. 
 
 And think of our horror ! — the sentence was 
 that he should be broken on the wheel ! I cannot 
 recall the Regent's conduct even at this distance 
 of time without grief and horror. 
 
 We at once put on mourning and framed a 
 petition to the Regent, which was signed by all the 
 highest people in the land, imploring that this 
 degrading and awful sentence might be commuted 
 into imprisonment for life. Cardinal de Rohan, 
 Due d' Havre, Prince de Ligne, and your grand- 
 father were chosen to present the petition to the 
 Regent. We all remained in the hall of audience, 
 and I remember the good Princesse d'Armagnac 
 knelt down in prayer. 
 
90 PETITION TO THE REGENT [chap, iv 
 
 The Regent began by saying that those who 
 asked grace for the criminal thought more of the 
 house of Horn than the service of the king. M. 
 de Cr^quy begged him to read the petition. 
 
 " Allowing that he is mad," replied the Regent, 
 "surely he is a dangerous person to be at large. 
 It would be prudent to get rid of him." 
 
 " If a prince of the blood became mad, Monsieur, 
 would you break him on the wheel ? " interposed 
 the Prince de Ligne. 
 
 The Cardinal now begged his Royal Highness to 
 take into consideration the feelings of the great 
 number of noble families allied to the house of 
 Horn. This infamy would injure them and their 
 children, even to the fourth generation. 
 
 " Monsieur," cried the Prince de Ligne, " I bear 
 on my standard four scutcheons of the house of 
 Horn. Am I to be compelled to efface them and 
 leave blanks in my shield ? There is hardly a 
 royal personage who will not suffer through this 
 stern sentence. It is well known that your Royal 
 Highness's mother, among her thirty-two quarter- 
 ings, bears that of Horn." 
 
 My grandfather here thought fit to throw 
 himself into the breach, but the Regent replied 
 mildly, " Gentlemen, I will share the disgrace 
 with you." 
 
 Thereupon, seeing that nothing could be done, 
 they tried to get the sentence changed to one of 
 death by the guillotine, all except the Cardinal and 
 M. de Cr6quy, who still held out for sentence of 
 
DESPAIR OF HIS FRIENDS $1 
 
 imprisonment for life. They joined us in the hall 
 with faces pale as death, and there we remained 
 till midnight. At last the Due d'Orldans was 
 brought to reason and promised, on his honour 
 as a prince, to sign a paper giving orders to set 
 up the scaffold at once, that Count Horn might 
 be beheaded at break of day, as soon as he had 
 received absolution. 
 
 The Regent then came out and saluted us all. 
 He embraced old Madame de Goyon, whom he had 
 known from childhood, and expressed his pleasure 
 at seeing me at the Palais-Royal. This was 
 hardly d, propos under the circumstances, and con- 
 sidering it was the only time I had ever been there. 
 Then he showed out all the ladies himself 
 
 The unhappy young man refused to see any one 
 but the Eveque de Bayeux and M. de Crdquy, 
 When your grandfather entered the chapel of the 
 Conciergerie, he found Count Horn on his knees 
 before the altar listening to the mass for the dead, 
 having just received the last Sacrament. 
 
 " My cousin," he said, " I swear to you — and 
 having still the body of Christ on my lips I should 
 hardly tell a lie — that I am innocent of this 
 murder." And he detailed the whole circumstances 
 with great clearness and simplicity. He made 
 M. de Crdquy promise to go and see his brother 
 Prince Horn and tell him the true state of the 
 case, but repeated several times, " I am not sorry 
 to die." 
 
 M. de Crequy went himself to see the executioner 
 
92 HIS DEATH [chap, iv 
 
 and begged of him to do his work with every care. 
 "Do not let him suffer," he said, "and only 
 uncover his neck ; also place his body in a coffin 
 which I will provide." He also offered him i,ooo 
 louis, but the man refused to take them. 
 
 M. de Cr6quy returned home worn out with grief, 
 but he refused to dine or take rest. 
 
 Imagine our feelings and picture to yourself, 
 if you can, our state of stupefaction, when we 
 learned the following day that Count Antoine had 
 been exposed on the wheel, in the Place de la 
 Gr^ve, for many hours, and tortured before his 
 release by death. When your grandfather heard 
 this, he at once ordered two of his coaches to be 
 got ready with six horses each, also six footmen 
 in state liveries, while he dressed himself in his 
 uniform of a general officer with the ribbon of 
 his order. He drove at once to the Place de la 
 Gr^ve, and found the Due d' Havre, the Due de 
 Rohan, and the Princes de Ligne and de Croiiy 
 already there. Count Antoine had been dead some 
 time, and it was said that the executioner had been 
 merciful enough to give him a death thrust long 
 before the end of the terrible proceedings. 
 
 The remains were put into one of our carriages, 
 which happened to be the one bearing my arms. 
 My husband and I had agreed that the corpse was 
 to be brought to our house, and I was preparing 
 one of the rooms as a sort of chapel, when Madame 
 Montmorency sent to beg of me to allow her that 
 sad privilege, as she had been a Countess Horn. 
 
INDIGNATION AGAINST THE REGENT 93 
 
 It would fill volumes if I wrote all the execrations 
 that were poured out on the Regent, who very 
 soon repented of the deed when he found all 
 Europe was against him. He thought to regain 
 some favour by restoring the property of Count 
 Antoine which had been confiscated, but it was 
 politely though scornfully refused by his brother. 
 This revolting conduct of the Due d'Orldans raised 
 the indignation of all classes to such a pitch that 
 the various connections of the family suffered in 
 no way from Count Antoine's unhappy and igno- 
 minious end, rather the reverse, public opinion 
 being entirely on their side. 
 
 But now I will turn from this painful episode to 
 lighter subjects and tell you some particulars of an 
 event which led to a piece of good fortune for me. 
 
 My grandmother had taken me one day to call 
 on Mile. Quinaut, an old maid, and daughter of the 
 famous Quinaut of the opera. She also began 
 life on the stage, but it was tacitly agreed that 
 the fact should be ignored. She had been a beauty, 
 but was now very old. She had received the 
 order of St. Michel, no one ever knew why, and 
 lived in a superb apartment in the Louvre. 
 
 All the great world of Paris met in her salon, 
 and royalty honoured her with visits. She had 
 the good sense never to go out herself, but used 
 to say that she could not venture to take the 
 liberty of calling on her guests. 
 
 When we arrived, Mile. Quinaut was surrounded 
 by an assemblage of illustrious people. The Due 
 
94 MADEMOISELLE DE VERTUS [chap, iv 
 
 de Penthi^vre, grandson of Louis XIV., was sitting 
 beside her, and among the company was a Mile, 
 de Vertus, an old princess, the last survivor of a 
 Breton family. Our family had formerly had some 
 quarrel with hers, I do not know what about, but 
 I had never seen her, and there was no com- 
 munication between our houses. Neither had I 
 ever seen Mile. Quinaut, so I mistook the one 
 for the other, and sitting down beside Mile, de 
 Vertus, I began an animated conversation, and 
 showed her every possible civility. 
 
 My grandmother, who was talking to a lady who 
 wore a decoration, and whom I thought belonged 
 to some religious order, looked across at me with 
 an air of disquietude, and on the way home told 
 me she thought I was crazy to talk to a person I 
 did not know, and who could not want to know me. 
 
 Mile, de Vertus was, however, a very kind, 
 gentle woman. It appears she was charmed with 
 my unexpected politeness, and often spoke of me, 
 and hoped I would call on her. When she died 
 four or five months later, it was found that she 
 had made a codicil to her will in my favour, and 
 had left me 40,000 francs, and that because I had 
 mistaken Mile. Anne de Bretagne, Comtesse de 
 Vertus and peeress of France, for Mile. Quinaut, 
 a Knight of the Order of St. Michel. 
 
 The moral of the tale is that it is good policy 
 to be polite — at least, it was apparently so in those 
 days. 
 
 That year, 1721, was a very unlucky one, for 
 
VISIT TO MONACO 95 
 
 the piece of good luck mentioned above did not 
 occur till later. It had such melancholy associa- 
 tions for me, on account of the tragic death of poor 
 Count Antoine. Then came an illness of the king, 
 which kept us all in an agony of suspense for 
 fifteen days. A fire consumed my village of 
 Gastines, and cost us more than 120,000 livres, 
 which we gave for the relief of the inhabitants, 
 beside which M. de Crequy remitted all their rents 
 for three years.^ Finally, the Regent passed over 
 my husband in favour of M. de Bellisle, who at 
 that time was neither a marshal nor a duke. 
 
 Your grandfather took this insult in a very 
 dignified manner. He wrote to the king to 
 inform him that he could no longer serve him 
 with honour, and sent four lines to the Regent 
 simply resigning his post of Director-General of 
 Infantry. 
 
 And we .at once started for Venice, where my 
 father was ambassador. 
 
 We spent eight days at Monaco, on the way, 
 with our cousin de Valentinois, who entertained 
 us royally, and gave us a salute of thirteen guns 
 from her fortress. M. de Crequy asked her 
 jokingly why she had received us into her princi- 
 pality with such honours. She replied with dignity, 
 " Was not my great-great-grandmother one of 
 your lineage ? My best looks are inherited from. 
 
 '■ The villagers of Gastines behaved to us with the deepest in- 
 gratitude. We rebuilt all the village, and at the beginning of the 
 Revolution the first thing they did was to burn down my castle. 
 — NoU by Madame de Crequy. 
 
96 FAMILY OF GOYON-MATIGNON [chap, iv 
 
 her, and I quarter the arms of de Cr^quy. If you 
 say much more about it, I shall give you a salute 
 of twenty-one guns when you leave, as I do for 
 my neighbour the Duke of Savoy, King of Cyprus 
 and Jerusalem." 
 
 I must tell you that the Duke of Savoy had 
 been madly in love with her. He often came to 
 Monaco, without sound of trumpet or drum, so 
 as to give her an agreeable surprise. 
 
 Madame de Valentinois was deeply attached to 
 her young husband, and did not care in the least 
 for her neighbour, who, moreover, was a septua- 
 genarian and humpbacked like a sack of nuts. 
 In order to put a stop to his amorous visits, she 
 used to have his movements watched, and directly 
 he passed her frontier he was saluted from all 
 her batteries. 
 
 This great heiress of the houses of Carignan, 
 Salerne, and Monaco was the last surviving daughter 
 of the reigning house of Grimaldi. She married 
 a grandson of Marechal Goyon-Matignon, on the 
 understanding that they and their posterity should 
 bear the arms and name of Grimaldi, without 
 adding any other. This was a cruel mortification 
 to the nobility of Brittany, for in that country 
 the old Celtic name of Goyon was like a war-cry. 
 
 It is a curious fact that this Breton family still 
 holds possession of what was the heritage of the 
 ancient Kings of Aries, in Provence, and a junior 
 branch of the family still exists there. They bear 
 the name of Blacas, which evidently arises from 
 
FAMILY OF GOYON-MATIGNON 97 
 
 the royal house of Baux, and bear the arms (a 
 comet with sixteen rays) without any blemish. If, 
 my dear boy, you ever come across people of 
 this name, I beg of you to remember their title 
 to nobility rather than the present state of their 
 fortunes. 
 
 There was a member of the family of Goyon- 
 Matignon who was well known in the great world 
 for his amazing stupidity. He was not only dense, 
 but loquacious, faultfinding, a quibbler, and vain 
 to a degree, and had he not worn the episcopal 
 mitre of Lisieux he would not have been tolerated 
 in society. 
 
 His family had managed to suppress him during 
 his youth by keeping him in a seminary until he 
 was presented at Versailles by his aunt the 
 Duchesse de Longueville, who had wisely recom- 
 mended that on no account should he be allowed 
 the opportunity of holding forth. 
 
 The king, Louis XIV., and his confessor de 
 Tellier, were informed that he had good manners 
 and was orthodox, but that he stammered dread- 
 fully, which was not the case. The king and 
 de Tellier were therefore careful never to address 
 to him a remark which required an answer. 
 
 As he was of good appearance, he was sent as 
 coadjutor to his uncle the Bishop of Lisieux, who, 
 however, had no desire for his nephew's company. 
 
 When this Ahb6 de Matignon arrived at Lisieux, 
 he was promptly shown the cathedral, and told 
 that it had been built by the English. 
 
 7 
 
98 THE ABBfe DE LISIEUX [chap, iv 
 
 " I saw at once," he replied, with an air of dis- 
 gust, " that it had not been made here ! " 
 
 That I may have done at once with the stories 
 about the abb^, I shall write down those that recur 
 to my memory as a list of bons mots — skip them if 
 they only bore you. 
 
 The first thing he did after settling himself in 
 the episcopal palace of Lisieux was to have straw 
 thickly strewn in the street beneath his windows, 
 and also in the great courtyard. 
 
 " That is what we do in Paris to avoid noise," 
 he said to his uncle. 
 
 " But you are not ill ; besides, you need not 
 fear a continuous roll of carriages in Lisieux." 
 
 " That is true, my lord ; but you seem to forget 
 the church bells. I abhor the sound of their 
 clanging, and I will not neglect taking any steps 
 that may abate the nuisance." 
 
 Later, he said to my grandmother de Froulay, 
 " M. de Lisieux has just died, God be praised! 
 Will you ask Madame de Maintenon to procure for 
 me the blue ribbon that my uncle was decorated 
 with?" 
 
 " How old are you ?" she asked. 
 
 " Only thirty-two, and it is true that I am one 
 year less than the age necessary by the statute ; but 
 you can tell Madame de Maintenon that my mother 
 had a premature confinement the year before my 
 birth, and I always consider this retarded my 
 advent in the world by one year." This he an- 
 nounced with a self-satisfied air of deep calculation. 
 
HIS ABSURD SAYINGS 99 
 
 When his sister-in-law the Princesse de Monaco 
 gave birth to her first child, the Marquis de Baux, 
 he hastened to announce the good news to his 
 brother, who was absent with his regiment. He 
 had neglected, however, to inquire the sex of the 
 infant, but got out of the difficulty in the following 
 manner ; 
 
 "I am at present at Torigny, where I came 
 to be near your dear wife in her confinement. 
 It nearly cost her her life, but she was happily 
 delivered of a fine child, who does nothing but 
 cry like an angry screech- owl, which fills me 
 with such trouble, as well as joy, that I really 
 cannot tell you whether I am its uncle or its 
 aunt. Adieu, dear sir and brother. My best 
 compliments. 
 
 " Leon, Bishop and Count of Lisieux." 
 
 " Why are you not clever enough to sell my 
 guinea-fowls at four pistoles a piece ? " he said one 
 day to the woman in charge of his poultry yard. 
 " One can get that price for parrots, and they are 
 only half the size." 
 
 " But, monseigneur," pleaded the woman, " the 
 guinea fowls cannot speak, while the parrots can." 
 
 " If they do not speak, they think all the more," 
 he replied angrily. This saying has since passed 
 into a proverb. 
 
 The Duchesse de Brissac declared to us, and 
 swore by all her gods, that he wrote her the 
 following letter : 
 
 ." Madame, — Knowing how partial you are to 
 
100 MAR£:CHAL DE TESSfe'S STORY [chap, iv 
 
 red partridges, I send you six herewith. Three 
 of them are grey, and one is a woodcock. You 
 will find this letter at the bottom of the basket." 
 
 This has often been quoted in collections of 
 absurd anecdotes, pigs' feet being mentioned in- 
 stead of woodcocks. Anyway, you may rest 
 assured that this is the original version. 
 
 I really must spare you all the foolish stories 
 u( M. de Matignon, but here is just one more, 
 which has never been published, and which was 
 told me by the Marechal de Tess6. 
 
 M)' uncle was spending a few days one autumn 
 with the Duchesse d'Harcourt, and Matignon, Coad- 
 jutor of Lisieux, was one of the company. One 
 day the party were amusing themselves listening 
 to the garrulous stories. of a mendacious old gentle- 
 man of the neighbourhood, who was considered 
 a great character. Whenever the Court was in 
 mourning, he made a point of wearing black also, 
 and used to tell stories of the attentions showered 
 on him by Louis XIV. 
 
 " W^hen I used to arrive at Versailles covered 
 with perspiration and dust, the king always had 
 the goodness to receive me with open arms. 
 
 " ' Good morning, friend Gaudreville ; it is a 
 thousand years since I saw you last. How are 
 you ? ' 
 
 " ' Fairly well, sire, but I am suffering from the 
 fatigue of the journey.' 
 
 " 'You would be glad to refresh yourself with a 
 bottle of my Macon ? ' 
 
AMUSEMENT OF THE COMPANY lOi 
 
 " ' By my faith ! that is an offer which I would 
 not lightly refuse.' " 
 
 Here the country bumpkin was interrupted by 
 an equerry of the Marechal bursting into a roar 
 of laughter. 
 
 A benevolent country gentleman sitting by re- 
 marked quietly, 
 
 " But is not the king's wine always of the very 
 best ? " 
 
 " I never tasted it," replied Gaudreville, much 
 disconcerted, and glancing towards the equerry. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Well," replied he, taking courage again, and 
 determined to sacrifice some part of his story to 
 save the rest, "you see, they always came and 
 told the king that the queen had gone to vespers, 
 and had carried off the keys of the cellar." 
 
 Here the coadjutor interrupted with a sapient 
 air. 
 
 " What a fool this man is. Surely he could 
 have seen at once that it was a mere false excuse 
 on the part of the queen to avoid giving her best 
 wine." 
 
 I imagine this remark of the Ahh6 de Matignon 
 reached a height of absurdity greater than any 
 words that ever fell from the lips of a grand 
 seigneur. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 The Court of Modena — Visit to Rome — The Court of the Stuarts — The 
 Arms of England — Adventure of the Abb6 de Beaumont — Return 
 of the de rrc(|uys to France— Massillon's Sermons — Death of the 
 Regent — Birth of the Authoress's Sons — An Eighteenth-century 
 Pilgrimage — Madame de Marsan — Madame du Deffand — The 
 Mardchale de Xoailles — Her Letters to the Virgin — The Comtesse 
 d'Egmont — The Family of the Mar6chal de Richelieu — The Comte 
 de Gisors — Court Etiquette — Banquet at Versailles — Tragic Love 
 Story of Madame d'Egmont — S6verin de Guys — Comtesse 
 d'EgmoDt's Death. 
 
 ON our arrival at Milan we learnt of the 
 departure of my father to Rome, so we 
 followed, making a short stay on the way at the 
 Court of Modena, the chief of the house d'Este 
 being a relative of M. de Crequy. Here we were 
 entertained right royally. Renaud d'Este, Due de 
 Mod^ne, had been a cardinal before he married 
 the sister of the first Duke of Hanover, and was 
 now a widower. His son the hereditary prince 
 was languid and affected, and looked like a sickly 
 child. To beautify himself, he powdered his hair 
 with gold dust, was rouged, and had his clothes 
 decorated with rosettes and fluttering ribbons till 
 he looked like a foppish footman. His wife was 
 on<; of the daughters of the Due d'0rl6ans, and 
 
ARRIVAL IN ROME 103 
 
 she received me very ungraciously, saying she had 
 never seen me at her father's court. 
 
 I pretended not to hear, and the duke looked 
 in no way surprised, as it was well known no 
 decent woman would go to the Palais-Royal. But 
 she went on grumbling to herself, " The Marquise 
 de Crequy was never seen at my father's," till 
 the duke lost patience and said dryly, " Don't 
 forget you are now staying with your father-in-law," 
 and, thank goodness, we saw no more of her except 
 on taking leave. 
 
 The prince was annoyed because his wife would 
 wear chintz, and asked me if it was the fashion 
 in Paris. I replied that a few young women used 
 it for morning dresses, but the Princesse de Modene 
 was the first woman of quality I ever saw dressed 
 in it. Indeed, I think linen and muslin are very 
 poor materials. 
 
 We were told no end of stories about this 
 princess, which it is not possible to repeat. All 
 I can say is that the late Duchesse de Berry and 
 the Queen of Spain were sanctimonious compared 
 to their sister of Modena. 
 
 On our arrival in Rome I desired, before doing 
 anything else, to stop at St. Peter's, and pay my 
 devotions at the tombs of the Apostles, a wish 
 that M. de Crequy was very ready to gratify. 
 We left the carriage at the entrance of the 
 Colonnade, and walked to the cathedral, where I 
 saw my father, surrounded by cardinals and prelates, 
 going in state to the Sistine Chapel. I said a 
 
104 DUCHESSE D'URSINS [chap, v 
 
 prayer with as much earnestness as was possible 
 under the circumstances, and we were then con- 
 ducted to the Palace of Sicily, which the Grand 
 Prior of Rome had kindly assigned to us, and in 
 which the Duchesse d'Ursins, his Eminence's aunt, 
 had taken the trouble to prepare an apartment 
 for us. 
 
 I need not tell you, for it is well known, that 
 this princess had been expelled from Spain for 
 taking too much upon herself and interfering in 
 the marriage of Philip V. She was my god- 
 mother, and a near relation. To me she was 
 unpleasing, an artificial and domineering kind of 
 woman. She was said to have the remains of 
 great beauty. I could not see it. She was always 
 over-dressed and very ddcolleUe. 
 
 " As you are her relation," said Prince Mansfield 
 to me one day, " can you tell me why Madame 
 d'Ursins exposes her ugly old neck and shoulders ? 
 For whose pleasure does she do it ? " 
 
 " For us young women," I replied, laughing, 
 "and especially the Comtesse Fagnani," and I 
 pointed to my neighbour's beautiful shoulders — 
 "it makes the contrast so striking!" 
 
 The Court of England was established in the 
 Borghese Palace, which the Queen-Dowager Mary 
 of Modena had purchased for her son the Cardinal 
 Howard of Norfolk, and the arms of England, 
 Ireland, and Scotland, as well as the arms of 
 France, were placed over the gate. I never could 
 understand how their most Christian Majesties 
 
FRENCH CUSTOMS IN ENGLAND 105 
 
 could tolerate such an absurdity.^ The device of 
 the Britannic shield is in French, and I was told 
 that the names and titles of the Knights of the 
 Garter and the Bath, in the Chapels of West- 
 minster and Windsor, were inscribed in the same 
 language. And it is the same with their statutes 
 and orders. It appears that the stamp of the 
 Norman and the ineffaceable impress of the Con- 
 quest is over all the court of England. It is worth 
 observing that whereas the French have dropped 
 most of their old customs, they have been retained 
 all over Europe, and more so in England than 
 anywhere else — though English antiquarians deny 
 this. The Chancellor of Great Britain is still 
 obliged, twice a year, to announce publicly that 
 " Le roi remercie son bon peuple de son benevo- 
 lence," and their royal arms and coinage, their 
 palaces, and their tombs all bear French signs and 
 legends. 
 
 English subjects cannot speak to their sovereigns 
 without using the French terms sire, or sir, and 
 madam ! I should have thought their national 
 self-sufficiency would have been mortified. 
 
 The Queen of England was good enough to 
 take me with her to the Vatican for the Conclave, 
 as the cardinals were engaged in electing a new 
 Pope. Only a crowned head could be granted 
 such a privilege, for no other woman ever passes 
 
 ■ The fleur-de-Iys were omitted from the royal shield in the reign 
 of George III., and from that date the Kings of England no longer 
 styled themselves Kings of France, as they had done since Henry VI. 
 
106 ADVENTURE OF THE CONCLAVIST [chai.. v 
 
 the pontifical threshold. What struck me as most 
 remarkable was the uniformity of the seventy-two 
 rooms. The principal one was hung with violet 
 damask, and devoid of all furniture save a golden 
 crucifix, two bronze torch-holders, and a prie-dieu 
 with the pope's cushion on it. 
 
 Talking of the Conclave reminds me of a story 
 the Cardinal de G^vres told me about one of his 
 conclavists, the Abbd de Beaumont, quite a lad, 
 who had a very unpleasant adventure. He and 
 the cardinal's train-bearer used to go about on 
 arch.tological excursions outside the walls, and 
 once owing to a violent storm, they took refuge 
 at an inn. The train-bearer went to bed at once, 
 but the abbe preferred to have supper. He 
 was then given a candle and shown the way to 
 where his companion w;is sleeping. He was told 
 to go first down a corridor to the left, then through 
 a door to the right, then down some steps, and 
 he could not possibly miss it. On reaching the 
 room he proceeded to get into bed beside his 
 sleeping friend. The room had formerly been a 
 kitchen, and a fire of juniper wood was burning 
 to smoke the bacon, so there was a faint light. 
 
 In a few minutes the door opened and a pretty 
 girl and a young man came in, and kneeling down 
 each side of the fireplace began repeating litanies. 
 Pn'sently the young man, still on his knees, 
 edged his way towards the girl and tried to 
 kiss her. 
 
 " What a wretch you are," crietl she, jumping 
 
MASSILLON'S SERMONS 107 
 
 up, "to do such a thing in the presence of the 
 dead ! " 
 
 At that moment the abbe, to his horror, dis- 
 covered that his bed-fellow was an icy-cold corpse. 
 You may think with what speed he jumped out 
 of bed, and how terrified the girl was ! 
 
 On our return to France M. de Crdquy wished 
 to visit Provence, where he had been quartered, 
 and we stayed with the Bishop of Marseilles in 
 his palace. Fifty thousand persons had perished 
 by the plague in Marseilles, and we were warned 
 that it was not wise to remain in the still pesti- 
 lential air. 
 
 About this time Massillon preached before the 
 young king those admirable sermons by which he 
 will be so long remembered, and young Arouet, 
 who now styled himself M. de Voltaire, had begun 
 to be considered a man of letters. He had 
 published a rather mediocre poem called the 
 Henriade, and wished to dedicate it to the king. 
 This work of Voltaire's youth is a curious monu- 
 ment of the history of philosophy. The tone is 
 didactic, and gives some indications of the arrogance 
 and irritation which raised up the hydra heads of 
 the dragons of the encyclopaedia — a contrast to 
 Massillon's profound respect for the throne, the 
 Church, and the State. 
 
 Not long afterwards the regent passed away. 
 He was a man without honour, faith, or mercy, 
 and was the scandal of his age, and a lesson to 
 show to what depths supreme wickedness can fall. 
 
io8 MADAME DE MARSAN [chap, v 
 
 For three years your grandfather and I lived at 
 our country seats in Picardy, Maine, and Anjou, 
 looking after our lands and houses and appointing 
 new stewards, and there in tranquillity my first child 
 was born. The king, Louis XV., and his bride- 
 elect, the Infanta Marie, were good enough to 
 stand sponsor for my son, and bestowed their 
 names on him. As you know, the Infanta was 
 sent back to her parents, and it was Queen Marie 
 of Poland who was godmother to my second son, 
 who was your father. 
 
 This amiable queen was always asking me to 
 go to \'^ersailles and become one of her ladies of 
 honour. She was the most indulgent, worthy, 
 and virtuous of princesses. 
 
 Now, having spoken of this royal lady, I will 
 go on to tell you of some of the people I have 
 known best and loved best, but to do so I 
 must carry you forward through the next fifteen 
 years. 
 
 Madame de Marsan, who had been a Princesse 
 de Lorraine and governess of the children of France 
 for many years, lived in a part of the Tuileries 
 called the " Pavilion de Marsan." She and I went 
 about a great deal together, and one day she came 
 to fetch me to go with her to drink the waters at 
 the spring of St. Genevieve at Nanterre, during 
 the files in honour of that saint. Her own name 
 was Genevieve. We started off in our gilded 
 vis-d-vis,^ half occupied in saying paternosters and 
 
 ' A sort of narrow carriage for two persons only. 
 
MADAME DU DEFFAND 109 
 
 half enjoying our pilgrimage. There was an iron 
 goblet attached to the well, and the princess 
 assured me it was necessary to drink from it and 
 not to leave a drop in it. It held quite half a pint. 
 I did not approve of either of these prescriptions, 
 but she implored me not to scandalise the ignorant, 
 and I promised to do what I was told. She was 
 a past mistress in the art of pilgrimages. 
 
 I must tell you this water was a cure for bad 
 eyes, from which neither of us suffered, and when 
 we arrived at the fountain we found it surrounded 
 by peasants, so that it was impossible to get near, 
 and we left the carriage and stood modestly to one 
 side. Whom should we see coming to perform her 
 devotions but Madame du Deffand, a woman who 
 believed in nothing. She insisted on a road being 
 cleared for her by the Chevalier de Pont-de-Vesle 
 and her lackeys. She was already nearly blind, 
 and the Chevalier did not see much better, so 
 the waters were not the mere precaution for them 
 that they were for us. We had the satisfaction of 
 seeing them each solemnly swallow a whole goblet 
 of sacred water. 
 
 Doubtless they did not intend to mention this 
 when they got back to their society of philosophers, 
 and we determined to say nothing either, to prevent 
 any jokes being made on a religious subject. 
 Madame de Marsan was much scandalised at her 
 coming in the company of Pont-de-Vesle, but I 
 said I thought Madame du Defifand had nothing 
 left to lose in public opinion, and her connection 
 
no ENCYCLOPAEDIST LOVERS [chap, v 
 
 with Pont-de-Vesle was too well known to be an 
 object of interest. 
 
 So we held our tongues, except to the Due de 
 Penthi^vre, to whom we always told everything, 
 and who was quite safe. He was much entertained 
 by our account of the pilgrimage undertaken by 
 these encyclopaedist lovers, and I lamented that I 
 had been bound down to secrecy, as it would have 
 been such a good story for Paris. Madame de 
 Marsan told it to the Archbishop of Paris, who 
 imposed silence. 
 
 The servants of Madame de Marsan, who bore 
 the liveries of Lorraine and Jerusalem, did not 
 approve at all of our humility in allowing Madame 
 du Defiand to precede us. The first footman 
 begged to be allowed to clear a passage, but we 
 replied that we could afford to wait, having neither 
 houses nor vines to attend to, like these poor 
 people. This hurt the vanity of our retinue. 
 
 Some time previously a coachman had come 
 to me for my place, and I naturally asked him 
 whom he had been with. 
 
 " The Due de Biron de Gontaut, who has gone 
 to his God," replied he. 
 
 " If that gentleman has gone to his God, he 
 won't stay there long," murmured I, under my 
 breath. 
 
 The coachman looked at me angrily. He told 
 me he was of gentle birth, as were most of the 
 retainers in the house of de Biron. 
 
 I replifjd that the liveries of de Cr^quy were 
 
THE ARISTOCRATIC COACHMAN iii 
 
 not more derogatory than those of Biron de 
 Gontaut, but that he had better speak to my 
 house-steward about wages. 
 
 " Before doing so, I wish to know if madame 
 always makes way for every one ? " 
 
 " Yes, to every one, except at Court." 
 
 " Would madame order her head coachman to 
 give way in the street of Paris for the wife of a 
 president ? " 
 
 "Certainly. Why not?" 
 
 " At least, madame would not give way to the 
 financial set ? " 
 
 " Depend upon it, the financial world are well 
 acquainted with their own place and my liveries. 
 I don't choose ever to force a passage, or risk 
 running over people." 
 
 " Madame has only twelve horses, and besides 
 it is my custom never to give way, except to 
 princesses of the royal blood. I shall not suit 
 madame." And he went away in high dudgeon. 
 
 Madame de Marsan took him, and it was he 
 who was driving us on this occasion. He said that 
 we had dishonoured him, and had plotted to mortify 
 him and his fellow-servants, and cast a slur on 
 their liveries. It was a regular comedy, and if 
 he had dared he would gladly have driven away 
 and left us. Their chief grievance was that the 
 servants of a nobody like M. Pont-de-Vesle had 
 passed us. 
 
 This haughty coachman, whose name was M. 
 Girard, actually wrote my son a long letter on 
 
112 HIS IMPERTINENT LETTER [chap, v 
 
 the subject, and among other things said that the 
 de Crequys had the distinction of bearing the 
 crest of " Une couronne A fermoirs," * a privilege 
 which should have inspired me with more nobility 
 of sentiment. 
 
 What is curious in this story is that this 
 pretended gentleman and professor of heraldry 
 ended by being one of the most enthusiastic 
 members of the revolutionary party, and became 
 one of the committee, and I afterwards saw 
 in a paper that he ended his days by the 
 guillotine. 
 
 But to return to my story. 
 
 While he held forth, holding the reins and ex- 
 citing the other servants, we had reached the well 
 and drunk of the healing water, and we then 
 repaired to the parish church to pray at the shrine 
 of St. Genevieve, the venerable patroness of 
 Paris, and a saint I was always fond of 
 
 The church was crowded, and we begged the 
 sacristan to let us into a corner of the sanctuary. 
 
 " I dare not, ladies; the dean has forbidden me 
 to let any one into this sanctuary since last year, 
 when a piece of the true cross was stolen by the 
 Marquise de Crcquy." 
 
 " What ! " 
 
 " Yes, ladies, she stole it ofifthe altar." 
 
 1 burst out laughing. 
 
 "What was she like?" asked Madame de 
 Marsan. 
 
 ' A closed crown. See de Crcquy crest on the title-page. 
 
MARECHALE DE NOAILLES 113 
 
 " A big woman, twice the size of yourselves. 
 She came in a coach with six horses, and red and 
 yellow liveries." 
 
 We looked at each other, and then the countess 
 whispered, " My dear, it must have been that 
 dreadful woman the Duchesse de Noailles. She is 
 always doing such things." 
 
 I remembered that the Marechale de Noailles had 
 been accused several times of similar thefts. Once 
 she annexed part of the arm of St. Jeanne de 
 Chantal, which she had borrowed from the nuns 
 of the Visitation, and which she had refused to 
 give back. It was discovered that she had caused 
 it to be pounded in a mortar and mixed with 
 some drug for her son the Due d'Ayen, who was 
 suffering from the measles. It was quite true that 
 she had stolen a piece of the true cross, for she 
 told the archbishop that a stolen relic was always 
 more efficacious ! 
 
 Those who were not intimately acquainted with 
 the Marechale de Noailles might be excused for 
 thinking she was a mad woman. She kept up a 
 regular correspondence with the holy Virgin and 
 the patriarchs. She used to put her letters into 
 a pigeon house in the garden, and as she always 
 found answers, it was supposed that her chaplain 
 wrote them. He was the famous Abbe Grizel. 
 Sometimes she was rather shocked at the Virgin 
 Mary's familiarity. 
 
 " She writes to me, ' Dear Marechale of the 
 third generation,' which is a little familiar in a 
 
 8 
 
114 HER REQUEST TO THE VIRGIN [chap, v 
 
 Jewess of her class, but we must excuse her, as 
 she was the mother of our Lord," and then she 
 wHHild reverently bow her head. " Besides," she 
 would continue, " we must remember that her 
 husband was of the roy.il race of David. I have 
 always thought that he must have been of a junior 
 branch of the family who took to trade." 
 
 Her conversation was in the style of the ancient 
 mysteries, when sacred characters were made to 
 speak like everyday people. 
 
 There was another story told of this eccentric 
 woman. 
 
 Sht: often \isited the Church of the Abbaye-aux- 
 Bois at an hour when every one was at dinner. 
 She was watched, and it was found that she 
 addressed her endless dissertations to a statue of 
 the Virgin, and appeared to be always disputing 
 with her. 
 
 One day she arrived and made her way to her 
 favourite altar, where she made many salutations. 
 The prayer she offered up that day was to obtain 
 for her husband, the duc-mar^chal, a sum of 
 1,800,000 livres, also the orders of the Garter 
 and of the Holy Roman Empire, being the only 
 titles he did not possess. 
 
 Presently a little voice was heard to say, 
 " Madame la Mardchale, you will not get the 
 1,800,000 livres you ask, as you have already 
 100,000 crowns a year, which is a very good 
 income. Your husband is a duke and a peer of 
 France, a grandee of Spain, and marshal of 
 
SEPTIMANIE DE RICHELIEU iij. 
 
 France, and he holds the ribbon of the Saint 
 Esprit and the Toison d'Or. Your family has 
 been loaded with benefits at court, and if you 
 are not yet satisfied you never will be. I advise 
 you to renounce all idea of being Princess of the 
 Holy Empire, and your husband will never get 
 the Garter of England." 
 
 This long peroration caused this extraordinary 
 duchess to feel no surprise. She took it into 
 her head that it was the infant Christ who had 
 spoken, and she called out angrily, " Hold your 
 tongue, you little stupid, and let your mother 
 speak." This was followed by a burst of laughter. 
 It was little de Chabrillan, one of the queen's pages, 
 who for fun had hidden himself behind the altar. 
 
 I have written of my oldest and best friend, 
 Madame de Marsan, and now I must make you 
 acquainted with my last and dearest friend, Madame 
 d'Egmont, a woman who has been calumniated 
 as much as Madame de Marsan was respected 
 and admired. 
 
 Sophie Septimanie de Richelieu was the only 
 daughter of the Marechal de Richelieu and the 
 Princesse de Lorraine, heiress of the house of 
 Guise. 
 
 She was far prouder of her maternal ancestry, 
 and had not always the good taste to conceal this 
 from her father, who was very tenacious on that 
 subject, and resented it accordingly. He used to 
 tell my grandmother that he was always anxious 
 to know what was public opinion as to the nobility 
 
ii6 COMTE DE GlSORS [cHAr. v 
 
 of his house, and he frankly admitted he had 
 married his wife for her rank and fortune. 
 
 Mile, de Richelieu had all the indefinable grace 
 that was the charm of France long ago — talent 
 of mind, politeness of manners, elegance of appear- 
 ance. She has remained for me a memory of all 
 that was most charming in women. 
 
 My grandmother wished to make a match be- 
 tween her and the son of the Marechal de Bellisle, 
 the Comte de Gisors, who was the bravest and 
 handsomest young man of the day, and she vainly 
 tried to persuade Richelieu to consent, telling him 
 that they adored each other. 
 
 "What does that matter .'' " he replied; "they 
 can meet in society." And without asking his 
 daughter, he married her to the Comte Casimir 
 d'Egmont, a widower, and the dullest and most 
 silent husband possible. 
 
 Many tales were invented as to the intrigues 
 of the Comtesse d'Egmont, but after the death 
 of M. de Gisors, who fell in battle, she had but 
 one real love affair, which filled her heart and 
 lasted to the grave. 
 
 This story is so romantic that half the world 
 will not believe it, though it is quite authentic, 
 and the other half, among whom was myself, 
 could never doubt the truth, however untrue it 
 might appear on the surface. 
 
 There was a young and fascinating gentleman, 
 of small fortune, who had found himself obliged 
 to enter the Guards as a common soldier, and 
 
VIDAME DE POITIER 117 
 
 who bore an extraordinary likeness to the Comte 
 de Gisors, both in face and figure, and even to 
 the voice. In fact, it could only be supposed that 
 they were sons of the same father. 
 
 Madame d'Egmont lived in harmony, if not in 
 love, with her uninteresting husband, and the lovers 
 never did meet in society, for M. de Gisors was 
 killed in battle two months after his marriage with 
 a Mile, de Nivernais, whom his father insisted on 
 his marrying. His memory remained for ever 
 dear to Septimanie. 
 
 There was a certain old lord of the house of 
 Insignan, called the Vidame de Poitiers, "^ who lived 
 a very retired life in a great house in the outskirts 
 of Paris, and about whom strange tales were told. 
 One day the countess received a letter from him 
 begging her to call and see him about a very im- 
 portant matter of business which could not be con- 
 veyed to her through the medium of any one else. 
 
 "Shall I go?" said she. "I believe he is an 
 old lunatic." 
 
 But Richelieu persuaded his daughter to accept 
 the invitation. She often told me that she had 
 an extraordinary presentiment of evil, but all the 
 same she made up her mind to go. How many 
 presentiments have I since seen come true ! If 
 ever you have one, my child, do not turn a deaf 
 ear to the timely warning, and neglect to listen 
 to the voice that would save you. 
 
 ' The title of a bishop's deputy, who does all the secular work of 
 the diocese. 
 
ii8 MME. D'EGMONT'S VISIT TO HIM [chap, v 
 
 Madame d'Egmont was quite surprised when 
 she reached the Vidame's house to find what a very 
 grand one it was, though she had been accustomed 
 to magnificence all her life. The great staircase was 
 adorned with statues, the antechambers were filled 
 with servants in livery, and a long gallery ended 
 in a lovely winter-garden. Thence a servant led 
 the way up an awkward little stair into a small 
 garret room, where on a narrow pallet lay an old 
 gentleman fast asleep. The room was white- 
 washed and the furniture common but clean. The 
 old man roused himself after a little while and 
 paid the countess most respectful attentions, and, 
 begging her to sit down, produced a case full of 
 papers. They were letters from the Comte de 
 Gisors to himself, and they all contained most 
 tender allusions to her. In the last one was written, 
 " I recommend S^verin to your care, as I can then 
 die in peace. ' 
 
 The countess shed many tears over these letters, 
 while the old lord lay exhausted with closed eyes. 
 Presently he said, " Madame, he whom we both 
 regret had no secrets from me. He has left 
 behind him a second self, in the person of a young 
 man of his own age, for whom he had a deep 
 affection, and who is penniless. I have no fortune 
 to leave ; this house is not my own, though I intend 
 leaving him all my plate and furniture, which will 
 realise about 70,000 crowns. I am, however, very 
 desirous, for reasons unnecessary to mention, that 
 no one should know that I am leaving him this 
 
Mis dying bequest ii$ 
 
 property. Will you therefore receive from me a 
 legacy of about 100,000 crowns on his behalf?" 
 
 He added that since the death of Comte de 
 Gisors this young man, who went by the name 
 of M. de Guys, had been utterly neglected by 
 the Marechal de Bellisle, whose natural son he 
 was supposed to be. This had caused him to 
 fall into a state of despair. 
 
 Madame d'Egmont felt a good deal of uneasiness 
 at this request. She feared to awaken the jealousy 
 of her husband, the susceptibility of her father, 
 and the anger of the Marechal de Bellisle. She 
 stipulated that her name should not appear in the 
 will, but that of her confessor, who would receive 
 the money for her ; also that the young man 
 should never know of her intervention on his 
 behalf; and she arranged to deliver his inheritance 
 to him with her own hands, in the presence of 
 the said confessor. So, you see, the poor countess 
 did not fail to take all reasonable precautions, in 
 order that young Sdverin's name might never be 
 associated with her own. 
 
 The Vidame de Poitiers died a few days later, 
 just at the time of the State funeral of the Queen 
 of Portugal, at which we all had to be present — I 
 in the capacity of lady-in-waiting to Madame Louise 
 de France, and Madame d'Egmont had to attend 
 to oblige h^r husband, who was a grandee of Spain 
 and Portugal. After the ceremony I learned, on 
 returning to the archbishop's palace, that Madame 
 d'Egmont had been taken ill in church, and had 
 
120 SEVERIN Dfi GUVS [chap, v 
 
 fainted, uttering a loud cry. I found her waiting 
 at my house, white as a shroud and still in her 
 mourning attire. She could hardly speak, but all 
 I could gather from her was that when she 
 approached the bier, she thought she saw the 
 Comte de disors in uniform standing at arms. 
 
 I tried to calm her, and told her that M. de 
 iS'ivernois had said that there was a young soldier 
 .so like him he might have been his twin, and 
 doubtless it was he who was on sentry duty. 
 
 "Alas!" she said, "I have no doubt it was 
 Sl\ eriii ; but do you not see I shall have to give 
 him his legacy, and must seek an interview with 
 him, and the sight of him nearly kills me?" 
 
 Wk wcpi together, and I tried my best to console 
 and encourage her. As regards the rest of this 
 stur\ , I must admit that from this point I was 
 less well informed as to the details. 
 
 Her confessor refused to be a party to her 
 scheme of receiving the legacy, as it would be 
 defrauding the law, and she was obliged to appoint 
 some one else. Some months after she informed 
 me, with an air of embarrassment, that she had 
 been obliged to ask !\1. de Guys to meet her at 
 a church, where she had gone on foot and alone, 
 and had there handed him over his legacy. I saw 
 she was flushing, but I did not try to force her 
 confidence, so 1 asked no questions, for I did not 
 want to sermonise her. I only remarked it was 
 a pity she had made her rendezvous in a church. 
 She bit her lip with annoyance, and I abruptly 
 
The D'EGMOKt JEWELS t2i 
 
 changed the subject. I only saw her at intervals 
 after this, though we were always perfectly friendly, 
 and I heard nothing more of M. de Guys for 
 six months. 
 
 One evening — I remember it well, for there was 
 a frightful storm — I went to sup at the Hotel 
 Richelieu. The Marechal asked me if I intended 
 going to the banquet next day at Versailles. I 
 said such was my intention. " My daughter is 
 going," he said; "which of you will escort the 
 other ? " I always fancied he was anxious that 
 Septimanie should appear in society in my com- 
 pany, and he was also sharp enough to see there 
 was a little constraint between us, and was doing 
 his best to bring us together. 
 
 We met at the appointed hour. I had never 
 seen Madame d'Egmont more beautifully dressed. 
 She wore a long black dress richly trimmed with 
 embroideries of crimson nasturtiums, of the natural 
 size, the leaves being worked in gold. Round her 
 neck were the hereditary pearls of the d'Egmonts, 
 worth 400,000 crowns. These pearls dated from 
 the sixteenth century, and only two were dis- 
 coloured. Madame d'Egmont used to say that to 
 keep the pearls from tarnishing or pulverising, all 
 that was necessary was to put them away with a 
 piece of the root of the ash tree. M. de Bufifon 
 used to dispute this theory ; but, to my mind, the 
 experience transmitted from one generation to 
 another is worth all the arguments of academicians. 
 
 The clasps of the bracelets and necklace formed 
 
\22 BANQUET AT VERSAILLES [cHAr. v 
 
 pendants, composed of Oriental pearls mixed with 
 large hyacinths, the colour of the nasturtiums. 
 There is no stone more rare and beautiful than 
 real old hyacinths.' 
 
 I asked Septimanie why she wore black for a 
 Court party. She said M. d'Egmont wished her 
 to continue mourning for the Queen of Portugal, 
 as he held a high position in that country. 
 
 I always took rank before Madame d'Egmont, 
 both by age and position, and I had no intention 
 of appearing as her duenna, for 1 wished to do 
 honour to our family. I wore a brocade of three 
 shades of blue, of which the deepest was the colour 
 of lapis, generally called " king's eye," trimmed with 
 priceless lace ; on my head was my diamond swan- 
 necked crown.* Evidently Madame d'Egmont had 
 no wish for any private conversation with me, as 
 she asked leave to bring her maid. She looked 
 wretchedly ill, and said she had not slept all 
 night. 
 
 At Versailles, during a royal banquet, the public 
 were dlowed to enter the hall by one door and 
 pass out through another. We sat on the right 
 hand of the king, and Madame d'Egmont was on 
 the outside — that is, in full view of the entrance 
 door. 1 heard a sort of murmured conversation, 
 and, looking up, saw one of the guards arguing 
 
 ' Commonly called jacinths. The stones are of varying tints of red 
 and yellow, much the colour dI nasturtiums. 
 
 ' This is an allusion to the heraldic crown of the de Criquys, which 
 was closed by three swans' necks in silver, the beaks holding a circlet 
 of gold. 
 
THE YOUNG SOLDIER 123 
 
 with a soldier, who stood with his eyes fixed on 
 Madame d'Egmont. He was young and extremely 
 handsome, with an air of grace and distinction ; 
 you doubtless guess who it was, but as I was not 
 always dreaming of Comte de Gisors or M. de Guys, 
 I did not at first notice the resemblance. I glanced 
 at Madame d'Egmont, and saw that the poor 
 woman was in a state of visible agitation. I could 
 not whisper to her, because our hoops prevented 
 our being near together. She held her fan before 
 her eyes, which was quite contrary to etiquette, as 
 it was a liberty to open a fan before the queen, 
 unless to use it as a tray on which to present 
 something to her Majesty. Meanwhile the young 
 man remained gazing at the beautiful lady with 
 the hyacinths, without troubling about the King's 
 presence or obeying the order to move pn. He 
 heard nothing, saw nothing, and was at last 
 dragged from the hall, and Madame d'Egmont 
 gave a low groan. 
 
 The king was always kept well acquainted by 
 the police of Paris with all the adventures and 
 intrigues, and, following the impulse of a generous 
 heart, called to one of his guards, and said in a loud 
 voice and without looking at Madame d'Egmont, 
 " M. de Jouffiroy, perhaps all this magnificence 
 and beauty was too much for that young man. It 
 is doubtless the sight of the queen " — turning with 
 a bow and smile to her — "that has dazzled him. 
 Let him go in peace ; at any rate, leave him 
 alone." 
 
124 MME. D'EGMONT'S ENEMIES [chap, v 
 
 I heard Madame d'Egmont heave a sigh of 
 relief, and ;i litlle colour returned to her face ; but 
 whispers were now going round the Court circle, 
 and Richelieu looked angrily at his daughter. 
 I thought that banquet would never end, and my 
 heart was filled with pity for her. She had no 
 need to fear my reproaches ; indeed, I made a point, 
 when we were at last released, to go about the 
 rooms among the enemies of Richelieu and the 
 women who slighted his daughter, hoping that my 
 civilities might win some of them over for poor 
 Septimanie. 
 
 When we got into our sedan chairs in the 
 vestibule, just as my porters were lifting mine, I 
 heard a deep voice behind me saying with an 
 accent of passion, " Is it you — really you ? " 
 
 I saw no one, and did not hear the answer of 
 Septimanie ; but when we got into our carriage, 
 she cried the whole way into Paris. Luckily, the 
 waiting-maid was asleep. 
 
 Next morning I was just starting for the H6tel 
 de Richelieu to see her, when the Marechal was 
 announced. He evidently hoped that I would 
 explain matters to him ; but he was the last 
 man I would speak openly with, so I began 
 discussing a lawsuit in which we were engaged. 
 This, however, proved unfortunate, as he went 
 away thinking I had abandoned his daughter to 
 the tender mercies of Mesdames de Grammont, 
 de Forcalquier, and d'Esparb^s, the very women 
 I had tried to propitiate. They dared to give out 
 
INTERVIEW WITH RICHELIEU 125 
 
 that Madame d'Egmont had frequent interviews 
 with a young soldier who believed her to be a 
 mere working girl, and that they met at the gate 
 of Saint-Jacques. This, I feel sure, was most 
 unjust and untrue. 
 
 Next day Septimanie came to me and begged 
 me to get her father to do something for young 
 Severin, as he threatened to go to Senegal, where 
 no Europeans could live a year. I unwillingly 
 agreed, and when Richelieu saw me coming as a 
 suppliant, he laughed maliciously, and said, " Well, 
 marquise, and how about the lawsuit ? " But I 
 declined to be put off, and he continued, after 
 hearing my request, " How can I interest myself 
 in this young man ? All the world would say it 
 was to please my daughter." 
 
 "If you abandon this M. de Guys to the hatred 
 of his father, your unhappy daughter will lose 
 her reason and die of grief, and you will thus 
 compromise her far more than by helping him and 
 keeping them apart." 
 
 " I assure you," replied the Marechal, " I feel 
 great compassion for your young man. How 
 would it be if I gave him some sort of pass, like 
 those of the police ? M. de Bellisle could say what 
 he liked ; he could not interfere." 
 
 I knew full well that these two old rips hated 
 each other, and that Richelieu would have great 
 pleasure in protecting one whom he pleased to 
 call my young man, just to annoy the Mardchal 
 de Bellisle, but I accepted this safeguard, feeling 
 
126 MME. D'l'-.GMONT'S DEATH [chap, v 
 
 there was nothing else to be done, and I consented 
 to see the interesting and unhappy S^verin. 
 
 Alas! though we all grew to like him, and M. 
 de Cr^quy at last treated him as if he were his son, 
 he vanished one night from the house in the Rue 
 St. Jacques in which we lived, and we never saw 
 or heard of him again. 
 
 This was poor Septimanie's death-blow. She 
 lingered a few years, as long as any vestige of 
 hope of hearing of him yet remained ; but she was 
 consumed by an inward fever, and this young and 
 brilliant being wasted away in tears and sorrow. 
 
 I shall never forget this strange and prodigious 
 affection : two loves inextricably mingled ; two 
 beloved objects, absolutely different and yet so 
 alike — the illustrious and admired Comte de Gisors 
 and the obscure and unfortunate M. de Guys. 
 
 During her last moments the remembrance of 
 these two brothers were mingled into one sentiment 
 of fidelity and love. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 Death of the Marquis de Crequy — Visit to Madame de Pompadour — The 
 Due d'Orl6ans — Comtesse de Blot's Strange Affectations — Her Pet 
 Dog — True History of the Iron Mask — Horrible Tragedy in the 
 Rue Basse — Arrest of Comte de Sade — Duchesse de Mazarin — 
 Her Famous Fete Champetre — Madame Geoffrin, the Manufacturer's 
 Wife — Conversation with Walpole — Madame de Boccage — 
 Fontenelle's Opinion of Her. 
 
 I HAD the sorrow of seeing my father and my 
 aunts die, and then came the loss of my 
 eldest grandson. Then my dear husband was 
 taken from me, to my inconsolable grief/ If after 
 my sorrow and painful preoccupations I once more 
 take up my pen, it is because I want to divert my 
 mind from these sad topics. I have lost all interest 
 in the task I had set myself. But my methodical 
 turn of mind gives me the courage to go on with 
 it. And yet what have I left to relate ? In what 
 troublous times are we now living ! What will be 
 the end of it all ? Society and law and order are 
 disorganised : into what further moral chaos may 
 we yet descend ! I will, however, try to recall in- 
 cidents that may amuse you and to describe some 
 of the people of note. 
 
 ' The Marquis de Crequy and Canaples died in 1742. He was the 
 author of several military works on the art of war. 
 
 127 
 
128 MADAME DE POMPADOUR [chap, vi 
 
 of Madame de Pompadour I have nothing very 
 special to relate. I never could understand why 
 people thought her beautiful. I did not meet her 
 in her heyday, for I went neither to balls nor 
 theatres at that period, and she did not frequent 
 churches. The first time I saw her was in the 
 gallery at Versailles, the day of her presentation. 
 
 She was small and delicate, with inexpressive 
 blue eyes, yellow hair, and skin about the same 
 colour. Deep mourning was, of course, singularly 
 trying for such a complexion. Her eyelashes were 
 scanty, and her eyebrows consisted of two red 
 marks. As to her teeth, they were as good as 
 any one who has the courage to take out the originals 
 and money to replace them with new ones may 
 easily possess. Her fingers were stumpy, her feet 
 stunted rather than small, and her toes turned out 
 in a ridiculous fashion. And yet this woman, with 
 her sickly, languishing air and personal defects, wis 
 the adored love of the greatest and handsomest 
 monarch in the world ! She had, moreover, a very 
 anxious expression of countenance, and seemed ill 
 at ease with every one, from the queen down to 
 her Majesty's tirewoman, Mile. Sublet. The latter 
 was a very eccentric person, who spent all her 
 time in the Chapel of Versailles, and slept in a 
 closet off her royal mistress's dressing-room. She 
 was the oddest person who ever was entrusted 
 with the care of decking a royal head. It was a 
 regular amusement to pay her surprise visits in 
 her little closet, and Louis XV., who loved childish 
 
SUGAR BUST OF THE KING 129 
 
 jokes, said one day, " Let us go and peep at Mile. 
 Sublet and see what she is about." 
 
 " You will find her seated before a bust of your 
 Majesty, made in barley sugar," answered the 
 queen. 
 
 " All the better," replied he ; "I love barley 
 sugar." 
 
 The queen pushed me into the little room, and 
 I called out, " Sublet, the king has sent me to ask 
 if you got a sunstroke while undressing." 
 
 "Is the king with the queen?" cried the good 
 creature, jumping up with an air of delight. 
 
 The king was close beside me, holding on to 
 my sleeve, which was very awkward, and to turn 
 the conversation, I asked her to let me look at the 
 little altar on her chest of drawers. 
 
 " It contains a bust of our master the king, 
 placed between two pink candles. I used to place 
 fresh flowers before it, but, upon my word, I am 
 too angry at the way he neglects my mistress to 
 honour him any longer. I put an orange as an 
 offering once, but he deserves nothing. I think I 
 shall eat it," she added angrily, shaking her fist 
 at the sugar figure. 
 
 Dreading what she might say next, I backed 
 out of the room, and rejoined their Majesties. I 
 saw that the queen's eyes were red. 
 
 " Will you allow me. Sire," she said, " to retire 
 to my oratory ? I wish to prepare for the Holy 
 Sacrament to-morrow." 
 
 The king kissed her hand and held it. for a 
 
 9 
 
I30 VISIT TO MME. DE POMPADOUR [chap, vi 
 
 moment against his heart, and then went off to 
 seek Madame de Pompadour, who had an apart- 
 ment in the palace. 
 
 " I never order or advise any one, and I do not 
 ask you to call on you know who," said the queen ; 
 " but you intend returning the call she made on 
 you the other day, and it seems to me it would be 
 in good taste to return it now — at once." 
 
 I was going to object, when she continued, 
 
 " It would be a kind act, and as good French- 
 women and good Christians we should always be 
 charitable. If you visit Madame de Pompadour 
 now, it will please the king." 
 
 The reason that this lady had called on me was 
 that she had been ennobled with the rank of 
 grandee of Spain. After all, a little sooner or a 
 little later, what did it matter ? So I agreed, and 
 the queen embraced me, and I was carried in my 
 chair to Madame de Pompadour's apartment. 
 When I was announced, she came forward to meet 
 me with an air of surprise and pleasure. 
 
 The king was there, engaged in a game of 
 ombre with the wife of the Spanish ambassador 
 and the Due de St. Aignan. They were talking 
 to each other in the second person, in token of 
 their all being grandees of Spain, as they would 
 have done at the Escurial. It was a practice 
 forbidden by etiquette at Versailles; 
 
 Madame de Pompadour began at once thank- 
 ing me for the honour I had done her, so I cut 
 her short and began to talk of other things. 
 
HER MUSICAL PERFORMANCE 131 
 
 She was soon called away to the piano by the 
 king. 
 
 "It would give me infinite pleasure to hear her 
 address you as ' thou,' " said the Marechal de 
 Richelieu to me. 
 
 " She is only a grandee of the third class, so 
 you will not have that amusement," replied I. 
 " Do go away and don't make me laugh, for 
 pity's sake ! " 
 
 The Marechal went off to the other end of 
 the room, where the company had assembled round 
 the piano. I also had got up, the king being no 
 longer seated, but I remained where I was, and 
 presently Madame.de Pompadour began to sing, 
 
 Ah ! que ma voix me devient chfere, 
 Depuis que mon berger se plait k I'ecouter ! 
 
 These words in public appeared to me in shock- 
 ing taste, and I felt quite ashamed. As soon as 
 she had finished, I made my curtsey to his Majesty 
 and left the room backwards, as if it had been 
 the king's salon. 
 
 This " shepherdess " led me out with much polite- 
 ness, but it was the first and last time that I 
 visited Madame de Pompadour. 
 
 Louis-Philippe d'Orleans ^ resembled his grand- 
 father the Regent. The first, I might say the 
 real, business of his life consisted of tasting, 
 chewing, and swallowing. It was his one passion. 
 In the pleasures of the table he found his com- 
 
 ' He was the father of Louis-Philippe Egalit6. 
 
132 LOUIS PHILIPPE D'ORLEANS [chap, vi 
 
 pensations and his punishments. Sport and gallantry 
 were for him quite secondary matters — they were 
 means of increasing his appetite. 
 
 It is related of him in his childhood that on 
 being offered meat cooked with marrow, he said, 
 " I want plenty — I want too much ! " In his youth 
 (after his marriage) he cried all one night because 
 his doctors had forbidden him to eat what he liked 
 best for supper. In his mature age he used to 
 fry oysters with onions, in company with Mile. 
 Marquise. 
 
 Finally, in his old age Madame de Montesson 
 used to say tenderly to him, "What is the matter, 
 Monseigneur ? Are you no longer hungry?" 
 
 " It is impossible to be hungry again at the end 
 of half an hour, though one would willingly eat," 
 replied his Serene Highness ; " that is what annoys 
 me. 
 
 The Due d'Orldans flattered himself he was 
 very aristocratic in appearance. He had good 
 features, but was very fat. His face was puffy and 
 foolish-looking. 
 
 After his quarrel with the fat actress Mile. 
 Marquise, he fell in love with another one, the 
 Marquise de Montesson, who persuaded him that 
 she was a model of all the virtues. She posed 
 as a clever woman who wrote dramas (which she 
 did by the help of her secretary), and was by way 
 of playing the harp admirably. She used to sit 
 between her harp master and one of his pupils, 
 and while they played with all their might, she 
 
MARQUISE DE MONTESSON 133 
 
 went through a chromatic pantomime with the airs 
 of a Saint Cecilia, declaring she was too timid to 
 play alone. The duke used to go into ecstasies. 
 
 He had a collection of miniatures in the Castle 
 of St. Assise supposed to be the work of his 
 mistress's clever fingers. The Marquise de 
 Puysieulx remarked to the Due d'Orldans one day, 
 " Look at this beautiful allegorical picture. It is 
 signed in the corner with the name of Vanspandon, 
 Is it possible that the Marquise is playing a joke 
 on you ? " 
 
 The duke was inclined to be indignant, but 
 thought better of it, and went off to supper with 
 his lady love. It needed still more deceits and 
 many manoeuvres before all the difficulties in the 
 way of the marriage of a prince of the blood with 
 this second-rate, designing woman were overcome. 
 Her real name was Delahaye, and she was the 
 daughter of a merchant at St. Malo. 
 
 Now I must tell you about the Comtesse de 
 Blot, lady-in-waiting to the Duchesse de Chartres, 
 and who was the amusement and the charm of the 
 Palais-Royal. This lady would have been ashamed 
 to take soup or drink wine or water — that is to 
 say, in public. 
 
 "What!" she would cry, "drink wine like a 
 vulgar person ? What a humiliation to be the sort 
 of woman who eats chickens and eggs ! Why, 
 my dear, the correct thing is to eat a section 
 of an orange, with a little cake and half a 
 dozen strawberries. Then one may drink a little 
 
134 COMTESSE DE BLOT [chap, vi 
 
 milk with fresh water in it — the milk of sheep, 
 of course, what the dear little lambs are fed on. 
 Think of drinking cow's milk, and thus having a 
 sort of nutritive intimacy with a horrible horned 
 animal who lows and ruminates ! The other day 
 I said to M. de Buffbn, ' If milk is necessary, why 
 do not doves produce it for us ? ' " 
 
 " Might I venture to ask what M. de Buffon 
 replied?" asked Madame de Luxembourg. 
 
 "He laughed, I do not know why, and advised 
 me to take milk of almonds." 
 
 When on a journey Madame de Blot had the 
 courage to suck the wing of a pigeon, the only 
 meat she could touch (at least in company). She 
 said chicken's flesh was too compact and had a 
 masculine flavour. 
 
 " Have some stag's ears, countess," said the 
 Duchesse de Chartres at dinner one day. 
 
 " Madame, do you take me for a keeper or a 
 huntsman ? " 
 
 " Give the countess some of this spiced boar's 
 head," said the duke. 
 
 " Monseigneur, you surely do not think that 
 the duchess's ladies-in-waiting have the tastes of 
 poachers." 
 
 " Come, come, countess, don't be so particular. 
 Let me at least give you a glass of good Cyprus 
 wine." 
 
 " Monseigneur then considers me a Bacchante. 
 Do I look as if 1 had a tame panther, and only 
 need a wreath of ivy to complete the illusion ? 
 
FATE OF HER DOG 135 
 
 How can you think that women of quality could 
 eat such things ! Women of rank are like bees and 
 butterflies, who suck the flowers and drink the 
 dew-drops of the rose." 
 
 " You must be a sylph, Madame de Blot — a 
 real wood-nymph. I drink to your very good 
 health." 
 
 The countess had a little dog to whom she 
 was devoted, an exceedingly delicate, thin little 
 creature which apparently lived on air, and this 
 was his greatest merit in her eyes. He came to 
 a very untimely end. 
 
 Attached to the chapel of the Palais-Royal was 
 a very big fat Abbe of an inferior order, who was 
 never received on terms of equality save on New 
 Year's Day. This man called to wish Madame de 
 Blot the compliments of the season, and sat down 
 on a folding-chair that she had the goodness to 
 offer him. He fancied on sitting down that he 
 felt a slight resisting movement, and feeling with 
 his hand, found he had sat down upon a little dog. 
 Being certain that the mischief was already done, 
 he determined that his wisest policy was to make 
 an end of it, and pressing down firmly with all 
 the weight of his heavy person, he effectually killed 
 the little animal. The tail was sticking out, so he 
 twisted it up, and, cautiously wriggling about, he 
 gradually got the body into one of his big pockets, 
 and carried it off. 
 
 Madame de Blot never knew what was her dog's 
 fate. Some told her he had been turned into a 
 
136 MAN WITH THE IRON MASK [chap, vi 
 
 sylph, others that he had been carried off by 
 the nymphs. But enough of this ; I really must 
 stop these silly tales about dogs, or you will think 
 I am in my dotage. 
 
 Richelieu said of the countess that she was almost 
 impalpable, but that she became invisible. She 
 died at the age of twenty-eight, and no trappist 
 ever endured more privations than did this foolish 
 coquette, who thought to beautify herself by these 
 follies, but was the laughing-stock of all her circle 
 of friends. 
 
 The first time I ever heard of the man with 
 the iron mask was from Fontenelle, who had heard 
 Voltaire speaking about him, and who had said 
 that the Due de Richelieu had told him the story, 
 which had come from his father-in-law the Due 
 de Noailles. 
 
 " That is rather ingenious," said Richlieu. " I 
 certainly have heard of the man with the iron 
 mask, but it was Voltaire who spoke of him, not 
 de Noailles." 
 
 This was by no means the first time that 
 Voltaire had palmed off a weird tale upon us. 
 
 " What Mother Goose's story is this," said the 
 Duchess de Luyncs to the Due de Noailles, " I 
 should like to know ? How could the late M. de 
 Louvois have failed to know all about it, when he 
 used to visit the Isle of St. Marguerite?" 
 
 " What is still more astonishing," replied de 
 Noailles, " are the details invented. It is said 
 M, de Louvois always spoke to the prisoner with 
 
THE TRUE STORY 137 
 
 his hat in his hand. Who revealed this, the 
 minister or the iron mask ? and what about the 
 silver plate ? " 
 
 " That is an absurdity," interrupted M. de 
 Brancas, who had just returned to us after fourteen 
 months in the prison of St. Marguerite. " To 
 begin with, the cells have a deep moat between 
 them and the sea, and there is a wall beyond 
 that." 
 
 " I think it is quite plain, though it may appear 
 inexplicable to us. It was a State secret," said the 
 Duchesse de Damville solemnly. 
 
 " A famous secret truly," murmured the Due de 
 la Vrilliere, " and very well kept, as there was 
 nothing in it to keep." 
 
 This conversation was held in my drawing-room, 
 and in the presence of the Due de Penthievre, 
 who said he was firmly convinced that Voltaire 
 had invented this mysterious story, just to pass as 
 a very well-informed writer. Voltaire began by 
 saying that the man with the iron mask had 
 written some important statement on a fine cambric 
 shirt, and had thrown it out of the window into 
 the sea, where a fisherman had seen it floating on 
 the water. Some one then told him (just what 
 M. de Brancas said to us) that the windows of the 
 prison did not open on the sea, and that the shirt 
 would have floated into the moat. To obviate 
 this difficulty he made out that it was a silver plate 
 that the prisoner had written upon. 
 
 All the best-informed persons of my time have 
 
138 MME. DE BOULAINVILLE [chap, vi 
 
 always thought that this famous history was 
 founded upon the capture and captivity of 
 Mattioli, a Piedmontese political prisoner, who 
 died in the Bastille in 1 703. In those days 
 prisoners were made to wear masks when travelling, 
 but it would be more exact to say a mask the 
 colour of iron. 
 
 All the details which Voltaire added were 
 simply fabulous and laughable, and I think you 
 will find that my theory of the iron mask is the 
 right one. 
 
 Madame de Boulainville, wife of the Provost 
 of Paris, was, as is well known, a most angelic 
 and charitable woman. She passed most of her 
 time in her fine house at Passy, her husband 
 returning every evening from Paris. One morn- 
 ing as he was riding in to town, passing a dilapidated 
 house in the Rue Basse, he heard shrieks of pain 
 issuing from it. He got off his horse and knocked 
 repeatedly ; but getting no answer, and being in 
 a great hurry he wrote a pencil note to his wife, 
 which he dispatched by a groom. Madame de 
 Boulainville dressed in great haste, and sent for 
 an old servant, who acted as surgeon and accom- 
 panied her on all her visits to the poor and suffering. 
 When they reached the house in the Rue Basse, 
 the shutters of which were all closed, they heard 
 moans and stifled cries, mingled at intervals with 
 shrieks of agony, but no other sound came from 
 the house. 
 
 When the door was forced open, what was 
 
HER DISCOVERY OF A CRIME 139 
 
 Madame de Boulainville's horror, to find in a 
 room on the ground floor a woman, extended, 
 bound on a carpenter's bench, with one leg com- 
 pletely flayed, and the floor saturated with blood ! 
 Beside her lay a scalpel and other surgical in- 
 struments. The wretched woman had fainted by 
 this time. Madame de Boulainville had the wounds 
 bathed, and, with great courage, drew the skin 
 herself back over the leg. When the victim came 
 to herself, she was able to make the following 
 declaration before witnesses. 
 
 A fine-looking man, aged about thirty-six, with 
 rather false, soft manners, had come to see the house, 
 and agreed to take it as it stood, without any 
 repairs, paying two terms in advance. He would 
 not, however, give his name. After a time he made 
 a proposal to her, to allow him to try a wonder- 
 ful healing ointment upon her.- It would only be 
 necessary to make a slight incision. For the sake 
 of ten louis, which he promised, the wretched 
 woman consented, and was laid on the table. 
 She then heard him telling his accomplice that 
 he intended to flay her alive. The violent struggle 
 she then made displaced the gag over her mouth, 
 and the shrieks for help she was able to give 
 were, by the mercy of Providence, just at the 
 moment when M. de Boulainville was passing the 
 house. 
 
 The unfortunate victim of this atrocious act of 
 cruelty was conveyed to the house at Passy, but 
 died of lockjaw that same day. However, the 
 
140 DUCHESSE DE MAZARIN [chap, vi 
 
 information resulted in the arrest of the Comte de 
 Sade, who had long been suspected of such crimes. 
 He had the audacity to declare that he had acted 
 in concert with the deceased, in the interests of 
 the king and all humanity. The judges could 
 hardly listen to him for horror at his vile deed. 
 This abominable scoundrel was imprisoned for 
 life, and was eventually sent to the Bastille, where 
 he wrote some infamous books. He died in 1814. 
 
 Remember that I am telling you of all the 
 incidents and people that I can recall. I will 
 now relate to you some of the eccentric doings 
 of the Duchesse de Mazarin. She was a very 
 great lady indeed, a princess in her own right, 
 beautiful, opulent, and magnificently generous, and 
 yet with it all absolutely ridiculous. 
 
 I can hardly explain how, but this poor woman 
 could say or do nothing without being the laughing- 
 stock of her friends and relations. If she gave a 
 grand concert, the chef d'orckestre was certain to 
 break his leg the afternoon before. If she had a 
 supper party, the kitchen was sure to catch fire. 
 
 No one will ever forget a certain fHe which 
 was given to Madame la Comtesse de Provence 
 and the Comtesse d'Artois, on the occasion of the 
 marriages of these two royal princesses. It was to 
 be a fHe champitre^ and yet was to be held in the 
 Mazarins' h6tel in Paris. The duchess conceived 
 the brilliant idea of engaging forty opera dancers, 
 dressed as shepherdesses, who were to dance 
 behind a great sheet of glass, which reached from 
 
HER FETE CHAMPETRE 141 
 
 the ceiling to the floor in the middle of the ball- 
 room. The walls behind this screen had been 
 painted to represent a sylvan scene ; orange and 
 lemon trees had been sunk into the floor, and 
 winding paths and beds of flowers had been laid 
 out between them. Moreover, Servandoni, to 
 whom the work was entrusted, had arranged a 
 real cascade. 
 
 Madame de Mazarin, who wished to give 
 their Royal Highnesses a pleasant surprise, had 
 ordered a flock of sheep to be sent from her 
 country seat, eight miles off, and they were ac- 
 companied by the shepherd's dog and a young 
 heifer, warranted very tame and gentle. 
 
 It was arranged that the animals should be led 
 in good order across the room, behind the glass 
 screen, so as to give a very realistic air to the 
 rural scene. The preparations alone for this enter- 
 tainment had cost over 80,000 francs. 
 
 The heifer, instead of keeping her place at the 
 end of the flock, got frightened at her unusual 
 surroundings, and rushed here and there, frightening 
 and upsetting the lambs, and finally plunged horns 
 foremost into the glass, which was shattered into 
 a thousand pieces. The sheep instantly followed, 
 leaping through the breach, the dog naturally 
 following to keep the flock in order. The sheep 
 took refuge in the folds of our beautiful dresses, 
 the dog barked violently, and the heifer galloped 
 from one end of the hall to the -^other, knocking 
 down everything that came in her way. All the 
 
142 EXTRAORDINARY FIASCO [chap, vi 
 
 women scrambled on to the rout benches, except 
 myself and Madame de la Vallidre, who remained 
 courageously in our places. I remember that 
 Madame and her sister laughed till they cried, but 
 their cousin Mile, de Lamballe scrambled on to 
 the chimney-piece, where she sat giving vent to 
 cries like a peacock on a wall. 
 
 What amused my son and myself so much was 
 that it was owing to the exquisite politeness of 
 Madame de Mazarin that the sheet of glass had 
 been erected, as she would not allow hired dancers 
 to be in the same room as royal princesses. Yet 
 there we were, surrounded by cattle, the ballroom 
 a regular farmyard in our very midst, and M. de 
 Morfontaine killing us with laughing by apostro- 
 phising the unlucky heifer, and saying she would 
 be sent to the slaughter-house. 
 
 We were obliged at last to give up the ballroom 
 to the animals and go in to supper. But the 
 confusion had spread thither, and we had to sup 
 off ragouts, the joints for our table having all 
 tumbled down on the stairs. 
 
 How is it that I have not spoken to you of 
 Madame Geofifrin, and also of M. Geofifrin, who, 
 however, was rarely mentioned outside his glass 
 manufactory, though I do not hesitate to say that 
 there was no object inside those walls so curious 
 as their owner ? H is father had been a weaver of 
 Epinay, and people wondered on what their title 
 to grandeur was, founded, and why Madame Geoffrin 
 was so self-assertive and stiff. 
 
MADAME GEOFFRIN 143 
 
 " She must have swallowed her mother-in-law's 
 distaff," said the Mardchale de Luxembourg. 
 
 Some one remarked that she was as common 
 as apples. 
 
 " Do not believe it, my dear," said the Mardchale ; 
 " this might give you a mistaken idea of rustic 
 elegance. She is as common as cabbage." 
 
 Madame Geoffrin could not even spell with the 
 amount of intelligence to be expected of an illiterate 
 person who could at least read. She insisted on 
 strangers of distinction being brought to her house. 
 Walpole said most of her English visitors could 
 not endure the smell of coarse scent which per- 
 vaded the house. For himself, he was overcome 
 with nausea when he got into this atmosphere of 
 heavy flattery. He also complained that she 
 would employ all his tradespeople, and even his 
 doctor, a Scotchman of the name of Tulloch, 
 
 "Why should I not?" she would say. "Is not 
 the faculty of Edinburgh the first in Europe ? " 
 
 " According to Scaliger," replied Walpole, " in 
 all Scotland in 1607 there was only one single 
 doctor, that of the queen, and he was a French- 
 man." 
 
 " That is a famous school of medicine truly." 
 
 He might have added that in England there 
 were then only three doctors — a very clever Italian 
 and two English donkeys. At least this is what 
 Scaliger wrote.^ 
 
 " Tell me, my dear Madame Geofiirin," said the 
 
 ' Joseph Scaliger, French writer of the seventeenth century. 
 
144 MADAME DE BOCCAGE [chap vi 
 
 Chevalier Rutlidge to her, on his return from 
 India, " what have you done with a worthy 
 man who used to sit at the bottom of your table ? 
 No one ever spoke to him, and he used to eat 
 without speaking a word. I don't see him there 
 now, and I always wondered who he was." 
 
 " It was my husband. He is dead." 
 
 This husband of the illustrious Madame Geofifrin 
 never read anything but the dictionary, and used 
 to make the most amazing discoveries. One day 
 he announced that the sister of Madame la 
 Dauphine had a most improper name. When 
 asked to explain, it appeared he had mistaken 
 Albertine for Libertine. He was an excellent 
 creature, patient and industrious, and with all the 
 qualities of an ass. 
 
 I have not yet mentioned Madame de Boccage, 
 authoress of the Colombiade. She was a woman 
 of superior intellect and great beauty. Voltaire 
 declared her letters were far superior to those of 
 Milady Wortley Montagu. That was, however, 
 no great compliment, and I think he could have 
 found a better one. For my part, after those of 
 Madame de S6vign6 and Madame de Maintenon, 
 I never read better letters than those of Madame 
 de Boccage. Her works were translated into 
 Italian, French, Spanish, and English. Her letters 
 from Rome were her best pieces of composition. 
 
 There are many fine things in the Colombiade — 
 talent, deep thought, and admirable simplicity. 
 You can hardly read the book without a feeling 
 
FONTENELLE'S OPINION OF HER 14S 
 
 of affection for the gifted authoress. Fontenelle 
 used to say of her, she was Hke a good watch, 
 perfectly well regulated, with excellent works and 
 a beautiful case. 
 
 " Why not compare her eyes to the two holes 
 for the key, with diamond pivots ? " said Voltaire. 
 
 " Oh ! my dear fellow, I have no genius for 
 metaphorical allusion," replied Fontenelle ; " but, 
 for goodness' sake, don't go about saying I have 
 compared her eyes to two holes in a watch. It 
 would not be the first time you have done me a 
 good turn of that kind." 
 
 Voltaire was wildly jealous of Fontenelle. Alas ! 
 his fame, that of Madame de Boccage, and 
 doubtless that of Voltaire too, will all have died 
 away ere fifty years have passed. Nothing is 
 stable here below but instability, said the apostle. 
 
 Madame de Boccage lived for forty years on 
 the summit of Parnassus, in clouds of Pindaric 
 incense, and before her death had the honour of 
 being included among the forty immortals of the 
 Acad^mie* 
 
 10 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 Birth of the Due de Berry — Ominous Forebodings — Details on Titles 
 in France — Presentations to the King and Queen — Rules and 
 Regulations — Voltaire — The Origin of His Name and Fortune — 
 His Letter to Madame de Crfiquy — Letter of the Marquis de 
 Cr£quy to his Mother after a Visit to Ferney. 
 
 MADAME LA DAUPHINE was brought 
 to bed of a son at Versailles in 1754. As 
 the Court were at Choisy-le-Roy, no member of 
 the royal family was able to be present at the birth. 
 The messenger who was sent to carry the news 
 to Paris fell from his horse at the gate, and was 
 killed on the spot. The Abbd de Saujon, on his 
 way from the chapel to baptise the infant, fell down 
 on the great staircase with a paralytic stroke. 
 Three wet nurses were waiting in attendance. Two 
 died within the week and the third took the small- 
 pox. " This is not a happy augury," said the king 
 his grandfather, " and I cannot think why I gave 
 the child the title of Due de Berry ; it is a name 
 that carries misfortune with it." This royal infant 
 became the King Louis XVI.! 
 
 No one was presented at the Court of France 
 unless he or she had either hereditary rank, or 
 that their parents were on terms of intimacy with 
 the sovereign, either from special favour or from 
 
 146 
 
TERRITORIAL RIGHTS OF NOBLES 147 
 
 appointment in the household. As the ruin of 
 the French nobiHty was now very nearly consum- 
 mated, every one strove to approach nearer to the 
 throne, and the requests for presentation were so 
 general and numerous that they became quite 
 ridiculous. 
 
 You must not imagine that our kings could create 
 dukes and marquises at their pleasure. Certain 
 conditions of territorial and feudal rights were 
 absolutely necessary. For instance, no one could 
 hold the title of duke without possessing a domain 
 comprising a town, twelve manors, twenty-eight 
 parishes, and full seignorial rights. Also the 
 property must be equivalent to 8,000 crowns. An 
 hereditary marquis's domains had to consist of three 
 baronies and six manors. A count must hold one 
 barony and three manors. There is not a single 
 barony in France that is not composed of three 
 manors. So you see, to be a real marquis, count, 
 or baron of France you want more than the mere 
 good will of the king ; that is to say, it takes time, 
 perseverance, a great property, and a territorial 
 fortune to hold high rank. 
 
 The ceremony of presentation is very simple 
 now'adays. The first gentleman-in-waiting names 
 you to the king by your title. His Majesty 
 acknowledges with a slight bow, and sometimes 
 asks after relations who have the honour of being 
 known to him. Then you follow him to the chase. 
 This is what is called " monter dans les carrosses du 
 roi," and this you may do as often as you please. 
 
148 COURT DRESS [chap, vn 
 
 The presentation of ladies had rather more cere- 
 mony about it. The name was sent in beforehand, 
 and two court ladies were necessary as sponsors. 
 
 Court dress consisted of a robe extended over 
 a hoop four and a half ells in diameter. The 
 train was fastened to the waist ; the bodice was of 
 a corresponding colour. Lappets were worn, and 
 the head was dressed in the fashion of the day. 
 It is needless to add the materials employed were 
 magnificent, and ladies piled on all the diamonds 
 they possessed. The king rarely spoke to them ; 
 he kissed the lady on one cheek if she was 
 merely a woman of quality, but on both cheeks 
 if she was a duchess, or a grandee of Spain, or 
 a member of one of those families which bear the 
 title of Cousin of the King, 
 
 The ladies then passed on to the queen, before 
 whom it was necessary to make such a profound 
 curtsey that it was almost equivalent to kneeling, 
 so as to touch the hem of her robe, though the 
 queen never allowed it to be lifted. Marie Antoi- 
 nette used to tap her skirt with her fan, as a 
 signal to drop it. A duchess or a grandee sat 
 down for a moment before her Majesty, and that 
 is what was commonly called " tabouret chez la 
 reine." We then had to go out backwards, trying 
 not to entangle our feet in our trains, which were 
 eight ells in length. 
 
 After that, presentations were made to the royal 
 princes and princesses, who always received one 
 with much politeness. 
 
PRIVATE LIFE OF VOLTAIRE 149 
 
 I have always considered that biographers of 
 Voltaire have failed to collect or refused to publish 
 the details of his private life, which I am now 
 going to write, to supplement their ignorance or 
 their silence. I shall not follow him through his 
 wanderings in France or England, or describe 
 his stay at the Court of Prussia ; all this has been 
 written many times. But I have learned things 
 about him from MM. de Breteuil, de Richelieu, 
 and du Chdtelet that few people know, and here 
 they are. 
 
 Voltaire inherited from his father an income of 
 18,000 livres a year. He could not endure 
 his family name of Arouet, and determined to 
 buy a property, so as to be able to change it. 
 Veautaire was a small farm, ten leagues from Paris, 
 and this he inherited from a cousin, and though it 
 was only worth 200 livres and had no seigneurial 
 rights, he did not hesitate to adopt the name and 
 change it into Voltaire. 
 
 As soon as he became Gentleman-in-Ordinary to 
 the King's Chamber (thanks to Madame de Pom- 
 padour), he enjoyed all the privileges of nobility, 
 and took the rank of an esquire, with the right 
 to bear arms. He had a shield painted : a black 
 ground, with a simple bar across it in the form of 
 a rapier. It was highly Gothic and severe. 
 
 When he returned from Prussia, where he had 
 been made Chamberlain to Frederick the Great, 
 he desired to become Lord of the Manor of 
 Ferney, and had his coat-of-arms put up inside 
 
ISO HIS DESIRE FOR A MARQUISATE [chap, vn 
 
 and outside the church of Ferney, though his 
 property was not considerable enough to enable 
 him to lay claim to that title. 
 
 Then he took it into his head to write to M. 
 de Richelieu, my nephew du Chitelet, and myself, 
 and asked us to use our influence to have his 
 lands raised to a marquisate. He wrote : 
 
 " If, dear Madame, you can obtain this favour, 
 it would make the glory and happiness of my 
 otherwise sad life. You know the calumnies and 
 persecutions which pursue me. I dare not go into 
 the streets of Geneva, not even for the purpose 
 of \isiting my doctor. M. Rousseau has raised 
 up all this ill-feeling against me. That is why 
 I appeal to your kindness to recompense me for 
 what I have to 'endure. M. de Villette has just 
 been granted a marquisate by the king. I have as 
 good a claim as he has, and were such an honour 
 bestowed on me, it would not cause more surprise. 
 Madame, you are an angel of goodness, and I 
 adore you. I kiss your two wings, kneeling on 
 my two knees. 
 
 " Voltaire." 
 
 We were a fortnight debating among ourselves 
 what reply should be sent to the patriarch of 
 Ferney who wanted to become a marquis. 
 
 At last I undertook to write to him that M. de 
 Richelieu would consent to his request as soon as 
 he could gather together the necessary number of 
 parishes to add to his present estate of Ferney. 
 
M. DE CREQUY VISITS HIM iSi 
 
 I was sure that his life would not last long 
 enough to accomplish this foolish scheme, and 
 M. de Villette having gone to Paris, he would no 
 longer be worried by seeing his friend's new rank 
 for ever before his eyes. 
 
 Two months passed without hearing from him ; 
 then my nephew du Chitelet received a request 
 to procure the order of St. Michel for Voltaire, 
 always with the plea that it was to console him 
 for the persecutions of J.-J. Rousseau. And for 
 six months he worried the Due du Chitelet 
 incessantly. 
 
 " Aunt," he would say to me, " what do you 
 think Voltaire wants now ? The order of St. 
 Lazare. What shall we do ? " 
 
 " Laugh at his request, my dear boy. Democritus 
 says that the best way to philosophise is to ridicule 
 philosophers and their philosophies." 
 
 As it was necessary for my son to go to Besangon, 
 he thought the best thing he could do would be 
 to go on and visit Voltaire, and see for himself 
 what he was about, and this is what he wrote 
 to me : 
 
 " Do not distress yourself, dear Madame, about 
 M. de Voltaire. This great man, who for fifty 
 years has always been going to die, is in splendid 
 health. He writes that he is becoming blind and 
 deaf. As a fact, he can read Madame de St. Julien's 
 letters without glasses, which is a pretty difficult 
 task. 
 
 " The day that I had the honour of seeing him 
 
152 LETTER TO MME. DE CREQUY [chap, vii 
 
 at Ferney, I found him smartly attired in a chintz 
 dressing-gown, with red shoes and silk stockings 
 and diamond knee-buckles. He wore lace ruffles 
 and a blond wig. He made many apologies for 
 his costume, pleading his invalid state, but I never 
 saw him better got up. This admirable philosopher 
 sat at the head of the table at luncheon, and partook 
 of trout, roiist meat and salad, pasty, fruit, and 
 double cream. He was sparkling with wit. 
 
 "Whom do you think I met there? Madame 
 dc Blot, who stops at Ferney every year on her 
 w.iy to the waters in Savoy. That fragile and 
 ridiculous person was even more extravagantly 
 so than in the Palais- Royal. It was impossible 
 to understand what she was driving at ; her con- 
 versation partook of the warblings of a canary or 
 the chirpings of a snipe, but principally of the 
 canary. Health has never been her first motive, 
 only the slenderness of her figure. She has now 
 determined to live altogether without eating, but 
 her stomach rebels at this treatment, and she 
 has become as yellow as if she had jaundice. 
 Voltaire loads her with attentions, and I assure you 
 he is quite her equal in the matter of little airs 
 and graces and coquetries. He accepts it all as 
 being the highest court manners. I flatter myself I 
 enlightened him on this point. You know his mania 
 for correcting the French language, and all the 
 absurd e.xj^ressions he has invented for the month 
 of August — expressions that send Madame de Blot 
 into transports of enthusiasm. We spoke of the 
 
WRITTEN FROM FERNEY 153 
 
 tempests during the first half of last August (though 
 the rest of the month the weather had been superb), 
 and I remarked, by way of saying something 
 suitable : 
 
 ' II n'eAt pas eu le nom de Auguste, 
 Sans cet empire heureux et juste 
 Qui fit oublier ses fureurs.' 
 
 " M. de Voltaire threw himself on my neck, crying 
 out, ' Generose puer ! He is indeed his mother's 
 son ! He is witty, amiable, and adorable,' and I 
 thought he would choke me, for I was squeezed 
 in his arms, as if I had been clasped by an iron 
 skeleton. 
 
 " I said, ' Monsieur, you are indeed indulgent 
 towards me, but you must not say that I 
 resemble my mother, because that would annoy 
 her very much. She told her friend the Cardinal 
 de Fleury that possibly I had some intelligence, 
 but I was not at all the sort of child she had 
 pictured in anticipation.' 
 
 " ' Ah ! that is her all over ; I seem to hear her 
 while listening to you. Dare I ask you,' he added, 
 ' whether your mother always dreaded being dis- 
 honoured by an Abbe de Breteuil ? ' And thereupon 
 he told me a story which I never heard from you, 
 but which I found so diverting that I laugh Still 
 when I think of it. He also pretends that you 
 once said to him, with a deep sigh, ' I am too 
 far away from God to love Him above all else, 
 and see my neighbour too closely to love him 
 more than myself.' 'It is necessary to be the 
 
1 54 VOLTAIRE'S CONVERSATION [chap, vn 
 
 age of Voltaire, who knew her as a young girl, 
 to be able to believe a remark that sounds so 
 badly in the ears of a pious person. Marquis, 
 you need not think that she was always a marvel 
 of discretion. 1 knew her when she was no bigger 
 than that,' and he held up his little finger. 
 
 " After dinner the host led us into his library, 
 a fine room and well filled, lie read us passages 
 from religious books which, he declared, were very 
 rare — passages, that is to say, against religion, 
 for that is a mania with him, and he comes back 
 to this subject perpetually. Then we played at 
 word games — ' definitions,' and such like ; and there 
 was a great deal of laughter over a young professor 
 from Geneva, who was asked to define ' love.' 
 He thought for a minute or two, and then said, 
 'It is a word composed of three vowels and two 
 consonants.' Then stories of brigands and assassins 
 were told, in turn, by the company, and M. de 
 Voltaire was pressed to tell one. 
 
 " ' Willingly,' he replied ; ' I know a most 
 curious and terrible one. Once upon a time, 
 there was an agriculturist, . . . but I have for- 
 gotten the rest. Come here, ladies ; make haste,' 
 cried he, looking out of the window. ' See this 
 patriarchal picture ! Look at the most beautiful 
 thing in creation! ' (It was a stallion with a young 
 mare.) What do you think of this philosophic 
 invitation addressed to Madame de Blot, who, by 
 the way, was kept from moving to the window 
 by Madame Denys, who knows her dear uncle's 
 
HIS OPINION OF GENEVESE 155 
 
 ways ? The confusion and the embarrassment 
 of the other ladies was trying in the extreme. 
 Happily they were all Genevese, and one is always 
 delighted at any unpleasantness that may overtake 
 these odious pedants. Madame de Blot begs to 
 have the honour of recalling herself to your kind 
 friendship : that is the word she used ; I find it 
 too familiar, but it does not bind you to anything. 
 People say much more than they mean. Voltaire 
 continued telling us humorous stories about different 
 people in Geneva, and wound up by saying, with 
 an air of transport, ' Ah ! ladies, what an admirable 
 town is this ! Geneva gives France a philosopher 
 to enlighten her — that is M. Rousseau ; a doctor 
 to heal her — that is M. Tronchin ; a banker to 
 control her finances — -that is M. Necker ! We must 
 hope that when the Archbishop of Paris dies, they 
 will enthrone in his place at Notre Dame their 
 famous preacher M. Vernet.' In fact, my dear 
 mother, in conclusion, I can only say that I consider 
 M. de Voltaire is nothing more nor less than an 
 old baby." 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Mori dial de Richelieu raeclitntes Matrimony for the Third Time — 
 Digression to Modern Cooliery — Wine of Bordeaux introduced by 
 Richelieu — Due de Nivernais' Solicitude for the Art of Cooliery — 
 Dinner given by Richelieu during the War with Hanover — Menu 
 composed by Him— \'isit of the Author to the Death-bed of 
 Richelieu— Jean-Jacques Rousseau — Th6r6se Levasseur — The Two 
 Capons and the Secret. 
 
 THE Marcchal de Richelieu after the death 
 of his charming daughter found himself in 
 a sad and lonely state, and a son such as his was 
 not likely to be any comfort. He spoke to me 
 several times of his desire to marry for the third 
 time, and said he would not be sorry to wed 
 Madame de Durfort. 
 
 " She is modest and sensible and kind," I replied, 
 " so you could not do better. You will be happier 
 if you take her for your wife, and die as a good 
 Christian." 
 
 " There is only one obstacle — she has refused 
 me, saying that I am too rich and she is too poor." 
 
 " Then why not marry the widow of M. de 
 Brunoy ? " 
 
 " She is not rich enough ; besides, I feel sure 
 we should quarrel : we should disagree over the 
 question of whether salads should be mixed with 
 
 IS6 
 
AGAIN MEDITATES MATRIMONY 157 
 
 cream, and grapes dipped in spun sugar, which 
 sticks to one's teeth. She is mad on this new 
 school of cookery, and everything is so mixed 
 up in her own house one does not know what 
 one is eating. Devil take her ! Can you tell me," 
 continued the Marechal, "of a housewife like 
 yourself, who has good taste and understands good 
 living ? People do not realise what tact and solid 
 judgment is necessary to organise a kitchen in 
 all its details, and a fool cannot keep a good 
 table going. The gluttons are not the real epicures* 
 and a master who only gormandises absolutely 
 paralyses the talent of a real cook. To live well 
 when money is plentiful requires nothing save 
 memory, sobriety> and common sense. Imagina-^ 
 tion has been called the fool of the household. I 
 take it it is mostly in the kitchen and dining- 
 room. You always tell me the monarchy will 
 perish through its finances ; I say that it is the 
 financiers who will ruin French cookery. Qui 
 vivra verra ! " 
 
 It was well known that the Marechal and I 
 were the two persons of our day who ate the 
 least, and in whose houses the 'best was eaten. 
 
 i had inherited a treasure of admirable traditions, 
 and I have alway held strongly to traditions. The 
 general belief is that really delicate dishes are 
 a modern invention, but this is not the case. 
 One reads in the culinary treatises of the sixteenth 
 century that at the table of Francis I. pheasants' 
 brains were served, also carps' tongues and lottes' 
 
!S8 COOKERY AS A FINE ART [chap, vm 
 
 livers ' stewed in Spanish wine. Our excellent 
 potage k la reine, a white soup made with chicken 
 and filberts, was the Thursday's soup at the Court 
 of the Valois, and its name comes from the fact 
 that it was a favourite dish of Queen Marguerite. 
 I have never set myself against really good in- 
 novations, but with the exceptions of " puree de 
 petits crabes," " timballes aux oeufs de caille," 
 " glaces au pain bis," and " tranchdes de glace 
 au beurre frais," I can assure you that nothing 
 has been invented really satisfying and out of the 
 common run during the last seventy-five years 
 that I have been eating and still more making 
 others eat. Real gastronomic talent, and con- 
 sequently the science of cookery, dates its decline 
 from the death of Louis XV. 
 
 When the Due de Nivernais had occasion to 
 change his chefs, or if they had learnt some novel 
 dish which appeared to be worthy of notice, he 
 had the patience to have it served for eight con- 
 secutive days, so that it might be brought to 
 the point of perfection. His palate was so well 
 trained that he could distinguish whether the meat 
 of the wing of a chicken was on the side of the 
 gall. I myself have seen the experiment tried. 
 He used to laugh at your grandfather, who never 
 understood the pleasures of the table, and who when 
 offering the duke sturgeon at supper would say, 
 " Will you have some of this minced veal ? It is 
 very good, but I must warn you it tastes offish." 
 > Lot/e, a fresh-water fish. 
 
RICHELIEU'S BANQUET 159 
 
 Richelieu would at once begin teasing me, and 
 saying, "How unhappy and ashamed I should be 
 if I were the wife of a man like that ! " 
 
 President Henault relates a story about M. de 
 Richelieu, which he always said was interesting, 
 and a proof of his aptitude and extraordinary 
 culinary gifts. 
 
 It was during the war with Hanover, when the 
 country was devastated for twenty miles round the 
 French army. They had just taken the Princes 
 and Princesses of Ostfrise prisoners — a party of 
 about twenty-five, with the usual allowance of maids- 
 of-honour and chamberlains. Marechal de Richelieu 
 resolved to give them full liberty, but before leaving 
 them free to go where they liked, he determined 
 to entertain them at a grand banquet, which decision 
 threw all his followers into despair. 
 
 " What have you in the canteen ? " 
 
 " Nothing, Monseigneur, but an ox and some 
 roots of sorts." 
 
 " Well, you can make quite a handsome supper 
 with that." 
 
 " But, Monseigneur, it would be an impossi- 
 bility " 
 
 "Nonsense! Ruillieres, write out the following 
 menu, which I will dictate to you, and let us 
 teach these stupid people how at least to 
 masticate. Do you know how to write out a menu, 
 Ruillieres ? Give me your seat and your pen." And 
 the general sat down at his secretary's table, and 
 improvised a classical supper, the menu of which 
 
i6o EXTRAORDINARY MENU [chap, vni 
 
 was carefully preserved by M. de la Popelinidre. 
 Here is a faithful copy of it : 
 
 Ornamentation 
 
 'I'lie great silver-gilt salver with equestrian figure of the king 
 
 The statues of du Guesclin, de Dunois, de Bayard, and 
 
 de Turenne 
 My silver-gilt service with the arms enamelled in relief 
 
 I St C nurse 
 Spanish soup of rye bread and lard, filled up with consomm^ 
 
 of beef 
 
 4 Hors d'(Euvres 
 Talate of beef i la Ste Menehould 
 
 Tripe with lemon juice 
 
 Pit^s of minced fillet with radishes 
 
 beef kidneys and fried onions 
 
 Releoe 
 Leg of beef, garnished with roots 
 
 6 Entries 
 
 Ox tail with chestnut pur6; 
 
 Shoulder of beef with celery 
 
 Beef tongue jugged 
 
 Rissoles with nut purde 
 
 Eyelids of beef, with nasturtium preserve 
 
 CroQtons fried in marrow 
 
 (soldiers' bread is the best for the purpose) 
 
 2nd Course 
 
 Roast sirloin, basted with melted marrow 
 
 Salad of chicorie and tongue 
 
 Braised beef, with pistachio jelly 
 
 Cold beef mould, mixed with blood and Juranson wine 
 
 (let there be no mistake about this) 
 
 6 Entremets 
 
 Turnips glared with beef juice 
 
 Purde of artichokes, with milk of almonds 
 
 Marrow tarts, with breadcrumbs and sugar candy 
 
BORDEAUX WINES i6i 
 
 6 Entremets — {continued) 
 
 Fritters of ox brains pickled with juice of Seville oranges 
 
 Aspic of beef with preserved lemon peel 
 
 Beef jelly, with Alicante wine and Verdun plums. 
 
 And then all that remains of my 
 
 store of jams and preserves. 
 
 If, by an unfortunate chance, the dinner is not very good, 
 I will keep back the pay of de Maret and de Ronquelfere, and 
 fine them a hundred crowns. Go, and do your best. 
 
 Richelieu. 
 
 Richelieu used to relate how the king said to 
 him one day, " Monsieur le Gouverneur de Septi- 
 manie, d'Aquitaine, and de Novempopulaine, will 
 you tell me something ? — do the Bordelais make a 
 drinkable wine ? " 
 
 "In certain parts of the country, Sire, the wine 
 is not bad." 
 
 " What wines are they ? " 
 
 " They make what they call white Sauterne, 
 which is not equal to that of Morrachet, nor that 
 made among the vine-slopes of Burgundy, but 
 it is better any way than small beer. There is 
 also a Grave, which resembles Moselle, and keeps 
 better ; besides which they have two or three 
 kinds of wine in Medoc and near Bazadois, and 
 the people of Bordeaux brag and boast of these 
 enough to kill you with laughing. To listen to 
 them one might think it was the best drink on 
 earth and nectar for the gods, yet it by no means 
 comes up to the products of Burgundy or the 
 Rhone. It is neither powerful nor generous, but 
 not without flavour and a sort of roughness which 
 
 II 
 
ir.j M. DE LA REYNIERE [chap, vm 
 
 is iKit disagreeable. Any way, one can drink as 
 much as one likes, ami the worst that can happen 
 is falling asleep after consuming it." 
 
 To s.itisfy the king's curiosity, Richelieu sent 
 for some ChAteau-Lafitte, and his Majesty pro- 
 nounced it passable. 
 
 Up to this time it had not been thought 
 possible to offer wine of Bordeaux to guests, 
 unless they were- Gascons or Bordelais. 
 
 Is it not extraordinary the way tastes change! 
 .After all, the Romans put asafoetida into their 
 stews, while they held the taste and smell of 
 citrons in abomination ! 
 
 The family in the financial circles most renowned 
 for its pretentions and its gastronomic researches 
 was that of de la Reyni^re. I will only relate 
 one anecdote about them, because I have never 
 seen it quoted elsewhere. 
 
 M. de la Reyni^re, on returning from a financial 
 inspection, stopped at a vill^e inn, and proceeded 
 at once into the kitchen to superintend the pre- 
 parations for his supper. He found seven turkeys 
 on the spit before the fire, though the innkeeper 
 assured him he could give him nothing but beans 
 and bacon. 
 
 " But what about these turkeys ? " 
 
 " They are ordered for a gentleman from Paris." 
 
 " One man by himself?" 
 
 " Yes, as solitary as the ace of spades." 
 
 " Why, he must be a perfect Gargantua, such 
 as I have never met. Show me to his room." 
 
HIS SON'S GASTRONOMIC FEAT 163 
 
 There he found his own son, who was on his 
 way to Switzerland. 
 
 " What ! is it you who has ordered seven 
 turkeys to be put on the spit for your supper ? " 
 
 " Monsieur," repHed his amiable son, " I can 
 understand your being annoyed at finding me 
 manifesting such vulgar tastes, but there was 
 nothing else to eat in the house." 
 
 " By my faith ! I do not reproach you with eating 
 turkey instead of capon — when travelling, one 
 must eat the best one can find ; but what surprises 
 me is the number. What can you do with seven ? " 
 
 " Monsieur, I have often heard you say that 
 there was really little good to eat in a fat turkey, 
 so I only intended eating the sot-H y-laisse !' ^ 
 
 "That," replied his father, " is a trifle expensive 
 for a young man, otherwise I see nothing un- 
 reasonable in your doing so." 
 
 Now that I have held forth to you on the 
 subject of gourmandising, I am glad to be able 
 to tell you that I have always been as frugal as 
 a camel. You know that I drink neither wine 
 nor liqueurs, but perhaps you do not know that 
 I have never drunk anything but water. For 
 the last fifty years I have eaten nothing but 
 vegetables stewed with chicken broth, and grilled 
 poultry. This, however, has not prevented my 
 having observed attentively everything that went 
 on in my kitchen. For the last forty years every 
 drop of water that I have drunk has been boiled, 
 
 ' A delicate morsel at the end of the back-bone of a fowl. 
 
i64 RICHELIEU'S SECOND MARRIAGE [chap, vin 
 
 and threads of sugar candy dissolved in it. So 
 you can judge that the perfection of my suppers 
 was not due to my own sensuality, but rather was 
 a question of good taste and elegance and a sense 
 of my own dignity, as I lived among people 
 whose habits were of the most exquisite delicacy. 
 Matters gastronomical arc somewhat like religious 
 devotion, those who think the most of it speak 
 the least. 
 
 The Marechal de Richelieu, at the age of eighty- 
 four, married the widow of an Irish gentleman, 
 one of the Catholic refugees in the service of 
 France. His name was M. de Roothe de Nugent. 
 
 Madame de Roothe was of a Lorraine family. 
 She was a Comtesse de Lavaulx, had sixteen 
 quarterings, a perfect reputation, and was forty 
 years old. She was still handsome, and a very 
 nice person. 
 
 " I do not know if I shall have many children," 
 said Richelieu, " the Mar6chale not being young." 
 Anyway, it was enough to make his son the Due 
 de Fronsac somewhat anxious. 
 
 His father met him one day on the grand 
 staircase at Versailles, and called out to him, 
 " M. de Fronsac ! M. de Fronsac ! as I have 
 the honour of meeting you, I wish to tell you 
 that I have been married for the last six months. 
 So I treat you better than you do me, as I tell 
 you this myself, whilst you only sent me an inter- 
 mediary to announce your future marriage. In 
 spite of my eighty-fi\e years, I hope soon to have 
 
HIS DEATH-BED REPENTANCE 165 
 
 a son, and I trust he will be more honest and 
 worth more than yourself." 
 
 Madame de Richelieu sent for me during her 
 husband's last illness. 
 
 " Don't you think," he said to me, " that I have 
 always been a better man than I was given 
 credit for?" 
 
 I replied there was something in that. 
 " You know," he continued, " I never could 
 abide the economists and the philosophers. I 
 always put spokes in their wheels to prevent 
 them becoming members of the Academie. I have 
 always said, like Fontenelle, ' There is no half-way 
 house, my fine sirs, between Atheism and being 
 received into the Church.' You know that the war 
 with Hanover cost me 200,000 crowns, which 
 ^' statement can easily be verified. You know also 
 that I never paid court to the Pompadour or the 
 du Barry." 
 
 " All that is true," I answered. " Yet, my dear 
 Mardchal, have you never done anything to offend 
 Almighty God ? Have you therefore no feelings 
 of contrition ? " 
 
 " Forsooth ! contrition is not worth much. I 
 have the fear of God, but that is all." 
 
 " The justice of God demands repentance, and 
 regret for sins past." 
 
 " They tell me I have attrition, and that 
 is all I can do, and it is always something, as 
 the Grand Prieur de Rabutin used to say. But 
 do you know, dear Marquise, what I have been 
 
i66 HIS LAST WORDS [chap, vm 
 
 thinking of since I took to my bed ? I ponder 
 over all the harm I might have done, but did not 
 do, and I could not have believed what a con- 
 solation such thoughts are to a dying man. I 
 paid up 1 ,9CK),ooo crowns of my father's debts out 
 of pure compassion for his poor creditors. After 
 the accident which I had at Gennevilliers, I re- 
 nounced the chase, though I had always loved it 
 passionately, and I sold the house, which I never 
 could endure. From that day I never had a rifle 
 in my hand again. The Bordelais always admit 
 that I exercised justice, for the king my master, 
 towards them in an equitable manner and without 
 respect of persons. Therefore I beg of you to 
 pray to the good God to grant me mercy. I 
 wished to see you before my death," he added 
 in a low voice. " I want you to go this day 
 and commend me to the protection of Sainte 
 Genevieve. I have known you so many years, 
 and you loved my daughter so dearly. . . ." 
 
 I begged of him, before all else, to be reconciled 
 to his son, which he promised to do, and carried 
 out as soon as possible, and with the best grace 
 in the world. 
 
 His pretty, foolish daughter-in-law came to his 
 bedside shortly before the end, and said he really 
 was not ill at all, and looked charming. 
 
 " Come now," he said, " do you take me for your 
 looking-glass ? " 
 
 And those were the last words he uttered, 
 
 I do not know why J.- J. Rousseau never 
 
JEAN-JACQUES ROUSSEAU 167 
 
 mentioned in his Confessions the manner in 
 which we first became acquainted, though he was 
 good enough to speak of me in his book. 
 
 He presented himself at my house one day, 
 having been sent by Madame Dupin, whose 
 secretary he was, to make inquiries as to the 
 character of a servant. Jean- Jacques was then a 
 good-looking young man, intelligent, though timid 
 and shy. My first impulse was to send him to 
 the right-about, without listening to his questions 
 about a lackey with whom I had never exchanged 
 four words, and who had been discharged, for what 
 reason I could not even remember. But his 
 countenance interested me somehow. 
 
 " Wait," I said ; and I sent for the house steward, 
 Dupont, who replied favourably as to the character 
 of the footman. 
 
 " It was I discharged him," he said, " because 
 he was a Protestant, and would not attend evening 
 prayers in the private chapel." 
 
 " I also am a Protestant," said the young 
 secretary in a gentle, melancholy voice. 
 
 " Are you quite sure of that .■'" said I. And then 
 we plunged into a controversial and lively dis- 
 cussion. In the middle of it the Apostolic Nuncio 
 was announced. 
 
 " You come at the right time, my dear mon- 
 seigneur, to assist me in the conversion of a 
 Calvinist." And I made Madame Dupin's mes- 
 senger sit down again. 
 
 We talked of the Bishop of Geneva and Madame 
 
i68 JEAN-JACQUES ROUSSEAU [chap, vm 
 
 de Solar, of the Chateau de Chenonceaux, Switzer- 
 land, and Voltaire. Rousseau showed a great deal 
 of intelligence, and I found him candid and warm- 
 hearted, in spite of what people said to the contrary, 
 I assured him I would always receive him with 
 pleasure, and I rose to bid him good-bye, a polite- 
 ness he never could forget. He has told me a 
 hundred times what an encouragement it was, and 
 how it gave him courage to enter my salons, always 
 filled, as they were, with " highnesses " and " arro- 
 gancies." For four years he came to see me 
 nearly every week, and as he was convinced of my 
 real affection for him, he would listen to home truths 
 from me without irritation or anger. During the 
 latter end of his stay in Paris I was at home to 
 no one else when he called. I would scold him, 
 and he would shed tears. My reproaches were 
 principally owing to the false confidences he used 
 to make to me. These were really more illusions 
 in his brain than want of veracity in his character. 
 That I learnt later, and always regretted not having 
 been sufficiently indulgent towards him. At the 
 very height of his misanthropy and in all the 
 misery and privation brought about by his poverty, 
 it was to me . . . Ah ! what was I about to 
 write ? No ; the confidences of Rousseau will 
 never be abused by me ! The mysteries of his 
 innermost feelings and the little secrets of our 
 friendship will be buried with me in the tomb. 
 
 Later I will return to this subject and tell you 
 all that concerns poor Jean-Jacques, but while I 
 
THERESE LEVASSEUR 169 
 
 think of it I will tell you one little detail, a very- 
 sordid one, relating to Thdrese Levasseur. 
 
 At the most unsociable period of " her man's " 
 life (for she used to talk like a fishwife) she never 
 failed to come to my hdtel every Saturday to 
 receive two big du Mans capons, which I gave as 
 a weekly allowance to my friend J.- J. Rousseau, 
 as he preferred that article of food to any other. 
 I calculated it should pretty well suffice for the 
 little Tfidnage for the week, and I took great pleasure 
 in the thought that it must be a vast assistance 
 to him. 
 
 " I thank you a thousand times," he said some 
 time after, " for the good old cock that made us 
 such excellent soup. Indeed, I know nothing that 
 makes better broth than an old fowl." 
 "An old what?" I said. 
 
 " An old cock — an old hen, old poultry, such 
 as you have the kindness to give to Mile. 
 Levasseur." 
 
 I turned the conversation, as I did not wish to 
 launch forth in abuse of that horrid Therdse, who 
 sold my fine capons to buy smoked fish and stuff 
 from the pork-butcher, of which she was in- 
 ordinately fond. She ended by marrying the 
 head keeper, M. de Grardin. 
 
 So much for the principles of the author of the 
 Nouvelle Helo'ise. He did not know how to apply 
 them to his own love affairs. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 The Chevalier de Cr6quy — His Frieud the Miser — A Country Visit in 
 1760 — State of the House — Ridiculous Supper — Description of 
 Marie Antoinette — Banquet in Honour of the Dauphin's Marriage — 
 Paris in 1770 — Disastrous Public /Vfe— Adventure of Madame de 
 Crc^quy — Fortunate Escape^Comtesse du Barry at the Review — 
 Return of Maurepas — Madame de Maurepas and her Old Furniture 
 —The Inhabitants of the Isle of St. Louis — Meeting Franklin at 
 a Dinner Party — Remarks on the Philosopher. 
 
 THERE was a certain Chevalier de Crequy, 
 an illegitimate member of our family, who 
 was made a Knight of Malta. I was passing 
 through Venddme, when I made his acquaintance. 
 A very few minutes of his company were sufficient 
 for me, and the stories told of him did not re- 
 dound to the honour of the family. His avarice 
 was unbounded. He spent his time with an old 
 miser named Godinot, and they used to advise 
 and encourage each other. The Chevalier always 
 blew out the candles at once on arriving at his 
 friend's house, saying it was just as easy to talk 
 in the dark. One evening, having sat without fire 
 or lights, Godinot blew up the embers to illumine 
 the room a little, preparatory to his friend's de- 
 parture, and noticed the Chevalier hastily adjusting 
 his braces and buttoning his breeches.- 
 
 " Hallo, my friend," said he, " I have caught 
 
 170 
 
HIS MISERLY HABITS 171 
 
 you practising some economy on the sly. What 
 is it ? " 
 
 " Monsieur," replied the Chevalier, "as it was 
 quite dark, I thought I was not wanting in respect 
 to you, in saving my black velvet breeches, which 
 are nearly new. This wooden stool is the ruin 
 of them ! " 
 
 He had fallen desperately in love with one of 
 our neighbours, a lady who always reminded me 
 of one of Moliere's prScieuses ridicules. I do 
 not wish to name her, on account of her son, who 
 is worthy of all respect ; but her property was 
 Fontenay, so you may look for it yourself, in the 
 neighbourhood of Montflaux. During her son's 
 minority, instead of nursing his estate, she spent 
 the greater part of his income on her clothes. 
 She used to dress herself in finery — dyed silks, 
 imitation lace, and loads of jewellery! and such 
 stuff too — clufnsy topazes, and diamonds such as 
 glass-cutters use. 
 
 -Having had endless pressing invitations from 
 this good lady to pay her a visit, at last I made 
 up my mind to go, so your father and I got into 
 our coach, and started on the road to Fontenay. 
 
 It was a road only fit for oxen, but neither the 
 Chevalier nor his lady love had thought fit to 
 warn us of this. We were not in actual danger 
 of overturning, the depth of the ruts prevented 
 that ; the danger was that we should never get to 
 our destination. My poor horses could hardly get 
 along under the blows of the postilions. The 
 
172 COUNTRY VISIT IN 1760 [chap, ix 
 
 traces got broken — they kicked with all their 
 might ; and stable oaths resounded, to my great 
 disgust. I insisted on getting out, and though 
 we were on the edge of a bog, my son and I 
 started off, arm-in-arm, across the fields. We 
 were only three-quarters of a mile from Fontenay, 
 so they said, but we managed to miss the way. 
 The day was closing in, we had walked for three 
 hours, and we were ready to drop with fatigue by 
 the time we got there. 
 
 The lady of the manor was sitting on a stone 
 bench under the limes, before her hall door, and 
 one of her maids was sitting on the grass at her 
 feet reading aloud to her, while a dirty little 
 peasant girl was waving a big fan over her head 
 to keep off the wasps. A gamekeeper stood at a 
 respectful distance, armed to the teeth, on account 
 of mad wolves, so they told us. 
 
 Our hostess was dressed in a wrapper, em- 
 broidered with life-sized poppies in coloured silk. 
 She wore a grey spangled mask, and big gloves, 
 such as are worn at night, and which smelt of 
 pomade. 
 
 Compliments were exchanged between us, and 
 regrets expressed at our misadventure, and much 
 abuse was showered on the people whose business 
 it was to keep up the roads but who apparently 
 never touched them, except when the king was 
 expected to pass that way. 
 
 As it was beginning to rain, she asked us to 
 come into the house, the keeper leading the way 
 
STATE OF THE MANOR 173 
 
 with a light. There was only the courtyard to 
 traverse ; but then they had all got mad wolves 
 on the brain ! 
 
 I will not bore you with a detailed description 
 of the Manor of Fontenay. Suffice it to say it 
 rained nearly as much inside the rooms as outside 
 in the courtyard, with this difference, that there 
 at least the stones had the chance of drying in 
 the sun, which they could not do inside. 
 
 The first floor was uninhabitable. We were shown 
 into a long, low room with no proper flooring. 
 The walls, which were all cracked, bore a few 
 fragments of old tapestry hanging to them, fastened 
 with rusty nails. Plain wooden chairs were offered 
 to us. The rain fell in torrents, and I was seized 
 with a deadly chill. Your father became frightened 
 and begged that a fire might be lighted ; but no 
 one could be found who would venture to cross 
 the courtyard to get any wood, not only for fear 
 of the wolves, but also because of the thunder. 
 So all that the lady of the manor could do was 
 to rail at the insupportable behaviour of her 
 servants, reminding me of those parents who 
 when angry with their children say to them, " How 
 badly you have been brought up ! " 
 
 Having heard that the dining-room was in 
 quite another part of the building, I declined to 
 move, and remained for two hours shivering with 
 fever and ague. They brought me a coffee cup 
 full of soup, mostly composed of river water, and 
 had I not been careful I should have cut my 
 
174 THE SUPPER AT FONTENAY [chap, ix 
 
 mouth with the spoon, so sharp had the edge 
 become. 
 
 For years after your father and his friends talked 
 of that famous supper at Fontenay — candle-grease 
 soup, quenelles of sewing-thread, fricassee of 
 leather, and thumb nails au naturel (Comte d'Escar 
 declared that your father found a tooth in a 
 haricot ; he said it was a fricandeau of sparrows 
 with their beaks left on). Spirits of lavender with 
 lumps of barley sugar was offered him to drink. 
 
 It was now quite dark, and the rain coming 
 down in sheets. The worst was, I had to cross 
 the courtyard to go to bed, unless I consented 
 to go up the grand staircase, four or five steps 
 of which were missing, and were lying in fragments 
 in the hall. They declared that the rest of the 
 stairs were all right, and wanted me to climb up 
 by a rope ladder. After due inspection I declined 
 to do this, so there was nothing for it but to 
 cross the courtyard without an umbrella. Some 
 one suggested fetching the canopy used in pro- 
 cessions, but the parish church was a long way 
 off; besides, I would hardly consent to walk under 
 the same canopy which shelters the Holy Sacra- 
 ment. Impatient at all these delays, I bravely 
 started out. Plunging through the wet nettles, and 
 catching my foot in some brambles, down I came 
 on to a heap of manure. The solitary candle 
 of course went out in the wind, and it took twenty 
 minutes to find a stable lantern and fix a sheet 
 of paper round it. All this time our hostess stood 
 
THE CHEVALIER'S BEDROOM 17S 
 
 in the darkness and rain, till I was filled with pity 
 for her. 
 
 " I implore you, dear Madame, return to your 
 room," I cried. " I am under a porch, and shall 
 get back all right as soon as I have a light, 
 Do go to bed, or you will catch your death of 
 cold." 
 
 " I would not dream of doing such a thing," 
 she replied, in a tone as pretentious as if she had 
 been in my salon at Montflaux. " I wish to do 
 the honours of my house, Madame, and see for 
 myself that you do not want for anything." 
 
 "You may rest satisfied I shall soon be all 
 right, but I am in despair at your taking cold." 
 
 But it was all no use, we could not make 
 this obstinate idiot listen to reason. At last the 
 lantern arrived, and. we were lighted into an 
 enormous room, with water running down the 
 walls and trickling everywhere. This was the 
 apartment specially reserved for the Chevalier. 
 The fireplace could have held twelve persons 
 easily, but Madame had had the chimney bricked 
 up, and the Chevalier de Crequy's bed was 
 placed on the hearth with a table and prie-dieu. 
 The toilette table was made of planks resting on 
 logs ; and a sort of causeway had been erected 
 to walk across the room out of the wet, though 
 the Chevalier said he did not mind it at all, as it 
 reminded him of the siege of Avesnes, where he 
 spent two months with his legs in the water. 
 
 My room, when at last I reached it, was fairly 
 
176 LETTER FROM THE DAUPHIN [chap, ix 
 
 furnished, and less uncomfortable than you might 
 have imagined. For you must remember that 
 this house had been a very fine mansion before 
 this absurd woman had the charge of it, and by 
 her extravagance and bad management had allowed 
 the ancestral roof to crumble into ruins. I slept 
 very badly, for my sheets smelt of hemp. The 
 toilette necessaries, I found next morning, con- 
 sisted only of a soup plate and a water bottle. 
 
 When now you see Fontenay beautifully kept 
 and cared for, its gardens gay with flowers, it is 
 hard to picture it in the state I have described. 
 In spite of his mother having left 40,000 crowns of 
 debt, the present proprietor has managed to re- 
 build the castle, and entertains with a noble and 
 generous hospitality. So this teaches the value 
 of good management, good taste, and common 
 sense. 
 
 Among some letters written to me by the 
 Dauphin (afterward Louis XVI.) I found one 
 which contained a description, or rather a sketch, 
 of the Archduchesse Marie Antoinette. It was 
 very badly written, which was the case with most 
 of the compositions of the seigneurs of the great 
 world of that day, but it has the merit of being 
 very exact and faithfully rendered, which is the 
 reason I kept it : 
 
 " The Archduchesse is of medium height, slender 
 without being thin, and has the figure of an un- 
 formed girl. She is well made, with graceful 
 movements. Her hair is pure blonde, without any 
 
DESCRIPTION OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 177 
 
 tinge of red, and grows thickly, and is worn rolled 
 back, and perhaps you will think in consequence 
 that her forehead is too high. It was a mania 
 of her governess, who admired a high forehead, 
 and used to make the princess wear a woollen 
 bandage round her head, and this has broken the 
 hair. Thus she has a high but very fine forehead, 
 and her face is a long, perfect oval. Her eyebrows 
 are as thick as they can be with a blonde, and 
 a shade darker than her hair, and her eyelashes 
 are charmingly long. Her eyes are blue, but not 
 too pale, and full of vivacity. Her nose is aquilinCj 
 a little too sharp perhaps, but it gives an air of dis- 
 tinction and delicacy. Her mouth is small and red 
 as a cherry, her lips are rather thick, especially 
 the lower one, which is a special trait of the house 
 of Bourgogne. Do you not admire this feature, 
 which has come direct from the Duchesse Marie-la- 
 Grande down to our day, quite three hundred years ? 
 But that is the least portion of her rich heritage. 
 Ah! Louis XL, Louis XL, what did you da 
 there ? The delicacy of her skin is a marvel, her 
 complexion a lovely tint, which will be marred 
 when covered with rouge. Her carriage is that 
 of an archduchess and a daughter of the Caesars, 
 Her expression varies much, but is always noble, 
 and her natural dignity is tempered by the 
 simplicity of her education. When the people of 
 France see her, I think they will not fail to be 
 inspired with a sentiment of profound tenderness 
 and respect for her," 
 
 13 
 
178 EVIL OMENS [chap, ix 
 
 I have already told you of the evil prognostica- 
 litins which saddened us at the cradle of Louis XVL 
 — the messenger who was killed on the way, the 
 chaplain who was struck down by mortal illness 
 ere he could baptist; the royal child, the nurses 
 who fell ill and died, and the self-reproaches of 
 the king for having given his grandson the ill- 
 fated name of Due de Berri. Much the same ill 
 fortune attended the arrival of the Archduchesse 
 Marie Antoinette. 
 
 At the frontier, after leaving her German court, 
 she noticed that the tapestries which adorned the 
 tent where her first halt was made represented 
 scenes of carnage — the massacre of the Innocents 
 and that of the Maccabees. She dared not 
 mention it, but silently shed tears at the sight. 
 In that tent two of the women servants died the 
 same night. It was said to be their fault, and 
 that they had eaten mushrooms, but they died 
 nevertheless. 
 
 Now I am going to tell you of the rejoicings 
 in Paris, and when you have read my account, tell 
 me whether you do not think that we may 
 reasonably believe in evil omens. 
 
 Your father at the time was ill, and unable to 
 leave his room. The heads of the town council 
 had invited us to a banquet to meet their Royal 
 Highnesses. I had to reply to the invitation, and 
 both M. de Penthi^vre and the Comtesse de Marsan 
 considered we ought to accept it. 
 
 A strong presentiment of evil had got hold of 
 
CIVIC BANQUETS 179 
 
 me, but I surmounted my feeling of repugnance 
 and fear, and allowed myself to be dressed in a 
 manner suitable to my age. I was slightly rouged, 
 and wore the order of Malta, and the Teutonic 
 Cross of St. Jean-NepomucSne out of compliment 
 to the Archduchesse. I wore no pearls or diamonds, 
 only a simple grey dress with a black coif, and 
 among all that bedizened and bejewelled crowd 
 there was much discussion as to who I could be. 
 The citizens and aldermen could not understand it 
 at all, and de Lauzun told my son it was whispered 
 about that I was the Princesse de Make. 
 
 Though the Provost of the Markets had had 
 the politeness to invite me to this civic feast, it 
 appeared he had not the civility to remember my 
 existence. No one knew where to seat me, or 
 what to do with me ; and the registrar wanted to 
 make me sit at a table with the inspectors-general 
 of the army. This, of course, I declined, and I 
 determined, after making my bow to their Royal 
 Highnesses, to return home at once. But I was 
 deprived of the satisfaction which this little revenge 
 would have afforded me, for M. de Talaru an- 
 nounced that the Dauphin would not sit down 
 unless a suitable place were found for Madame de 
 Crequy. Even then I should never have attained 
 a place at the royal table if my niece Madame 
 de Tesse had not kindly given me hers. These 
 were the sort of mishaps that occurred perpetually 
 at the town hall festivities. 
 
 The Comtesse de Toulouse and Madame de 
 
i8o PARIS IN 1770 [CHAP. IX 
 
 Carignan were seated close to the Dauphin ; no 
 one could take offence at that. The illegitimates 
 of France were to the right of the prince, the 
 strangers to the left. My place was beside 
 Monsieur, who ate with great appetite, according 
 to his wont, but was none the less agreeable. 
 Madame de Tesse took advantage of the first 
 opportunity to slip off home. Would to God I 
 had done the same. It was two in the morning 
 when I returned. As we were crossing one of the 
 bridges, my carriage got caught in an equipage 
 of the Orleans, and was overturned. One of 
 my horses was severely injured, my coachman 
 put out his shoulder, and I was covered with 
 bruises. Madame de Poulpry came to my rescue, 
 and took me into her carriage, where I fainted 
 away. How eight days afterwards I could ever 
 have consented to go and see the fireworks in the 
 Champs Elys^es is ine.xplicable to me now, except 
 that I was persecuted by M. de Brissac, Governor 
 of Paris, who implored me to be present, and I 
 foolishly yielded to his entreaties 
 
 In 1770 the Champs Elysees did not exist, and 
 the Quai des Tuileries was merely a tow-path. 
 The Rue Royale was only partially built, and 
 was unpaved. The north end of the street con- 
 sisted of old houses half pulled down, and as they 
 were building a main sewer, an enormous and very 
 deep trench had been dug right down the centre 
 of the street. In honour of the marriage of M. 
 le Dauphin, the Provost of the Markets deter- 
 
FATAL FIREWORKS i8i 
 
 mined to hold a big fair on the Boulevard du 
 Nord, and moreover a grand display of fireworks 
 was given on the Place Louis XV. The Rue 
 Royale being little better than a funnel, and the 
 Tuileries garden being closed for fear of their 
 being injured by the crowds, there was hardly 
 any passage for the masses to come and go, and 
 you can easily understand the difficulty likely to 
 ensue. 
 
 The fireworks did not go off as well as was 
 expected, and some hoardings burst into flames. 
 The fire brigade were sent for, and as they arrived 
 by the Rue Royale, the natural result happened 
 of two conflicting masses meeting in a confined 
 space. Moreover, the ground where they struggled 
 was covered with mounds of earth and materials 
 for building. It was a scene of the wildest con- 
 fusion. Women and children were trampled under 
 foot or thrown into the open trench in the street. 
 The soldiers on guard cut their way through with 
 their sabres, and cries of anguish rent the air. 
 
 My carriage had reached the Rue St. Florentin 
 near the great house of the Duchesse d'Infantado, 
 which was in process of building, and I found the 
 way blocked in consequence. Knowing that there 
 was great confusion at the scene of the fireworks, 
 and fearing to add to it, I ordered my servants to 
 take off four of my six horses and drive me home 
 with a pair. They raised all sorts of objections — 
 said that the led horses would be injured in the 
 crowd, and the harness would not do. I was very 
 
iS2 DANGERS OF THE MARQUISE [chap, ix 
 
 angry, and got out of the carriage to argue with 
 them, declaring I would walk home rather than 
 run the risk of injuring any one. At that moment, 
 the surging mob coming out our way, I was 
 literally lifted off my feet and swept away, and 
 tleposited near the balustrade of the gardens of 
 the duchess's house, where I was in great danger 
 of being crushed to death. I spied in the darkness 
 a ladder of planks among the workmen's build- 
 ing material in the deep foundation which had 
 been dug, and, creeping down, got into a small 
 shed or workmen's shelter, where I sat on a barrow, 
 telling my beads and thanking God for my mar- 
 vellous escape. At about three, I heard the patrols 
 going by, and thought of calling them, but I was 
 restrained by a sort of timidity. It seemed to me 
 the young soldiers might be rude, and think I 
 was a witch coming out of the earth. I knew that 
 the men would save the commonest young servant- 
 girl in preference to myself — that is, without reference 
 to my name or fortune. Had I been forty years 
 younger, I would have acted differently ; as it was, 
 I remained in my hole, waiting patiently for the 
 dawn. As soon as there was a glimmer of light, 
 I got out of my hiding-place, and, though I had 
 only satin slippers on, managed to reach the Hotel 
 de Crequy, where I found every one in despair. 
 It was actually the first time in my life that I 
 had put my hand on my own knocker. I really 
 did not know how to set about it. 
 
 I remember that when I related my adventures 
 
MAdAME bU BA^RY 1^3 
 
 to the Comtesse de Gisors, she replied, with an 
 air of resignation, " Alas ! dear friend, when we 
 are without lackeys, just see what happens to us — 
 we are absolutely lost." 
 
 Nearly four thousand persons were killed and 
 injured in this milde. All the next day was spent 
 in removing the bodies from the Place and the 
 Rue Royale. 
 
 M. Bignon, it appears, after having seen the 
 opening of his firework display, retired to bed, 
 perfectly satisfied with his success, and slept peace- 
 fully till the morning. He had the audacity to 
 appear at the opera next night to reassure the 
 public as to his safety. He made so many blunders, 
 that he was removed from the charge of the Hotel 
 de Ville before his three years were up. You know 
 how he kept me standing for a quarter of an hour 
 at a banquet at the Hotel de Ville. I did not know 
 if I should even find a place at the table. A 
 nice position indeed for the widow of your grand- 
 father ! No wonder I heard and remembered tales 
 against this Provost of the Markets ! 
 
 I ceased going to Court in 1771, and when I 
 tell you the reason, you will fully approve of it. 
 
 I only saw Madame du Barry once during the 
 life of Louis XV., and that was at a review in the 
 Sablons. She was seated in her coach, and on 
 her left was Madame de Mirepoix. I asked at 
 once who that stranger was who treated the widow 
 of a Prince de Lorraine so familiarly. 
 
 The Vicomte de Laval replied, as if it was of 
 
184 M. E)E MAUREPAS tcnAP.jx 
 
 no importance, " Madame, it is the Comtesse du — 
 Barry," purposely separatinjj^ the name from the 
 title.' 
 
 My only answer was to pull the cord and order 
 the: coachman to go home. 1 never bowed to 
 Madame cic Mirepoix again, or returned her 
 salutations. Her brother and her sister-in-law 
 treated her in the same manner, though when our 
 irritation against her had subsided, we used often 
 to say, " What a pity!" She had been my friend 
 for forty years ; but this was all the more rejison 
 why I should treat her with the severity she de- 
 si.r\'ed for keeping such company. 
 
 Madame du Barr\' reminded me of a wax doll, 
 with fixed eyes and badly formed eyelids. Her 
 dress was always in advance of the fashions, and 
 in \ery outrageous taste. We shall find her again 
 twenty years later at Ste. P^lagie, poor, unhappy 
 creature ! and her prison toilettes were nearly as 
 weird as those she wore at Court. 
 
 The death of Louis XV. occurred not long after 
 this, and the first act of Louis XVI. was to exile 
 Madame du Barry to the Convent of Pont-en-Prie, 
 and the same day he wrote to M. de Maurepas, 
 who had spent two-thirds of his long life in exile, 
 and begged him to return to office, pleading his 
 own youth and inexperience, and his implicit trust 
 in the former minister's wisdom and prudence. 
 
 M. de Maurepas did not, however, justify the 
 
 ■ Frederick of Prussia called the mistresses of Louis XV. Cotillon I., 
 11., and 111. Madame du Barry was Cotillon III. 
 
MAbAME dE mAurePAs i§s 
 
 good opinion of the king, his master. He had 
 lost none of the levity which characterised him as 
 minister during the Regency, nor had he acquired 
 much experience. But I am not writing an 
 abridged history of France, so I will not enlarge 
 on the political faults of M. de Maurepas. I will 
 speak only of such incidents as came under my 
 own observation. 
 
 Madame de Maurepas was a sister of the Due 
 de la Vrilliere. She injured her husband's reputa- 
 tion considerably by her sourness and parsimony. 
 When she returned, after forty years' absence, to 
 her hdtel in the Rue de Crenelle, she found her 
 furniture, as you may imagine, somewhat faded, 
 especially as the shutters had been left open all 
 that time. 
 
 M. de Maurepas, when leaving his house for 
 Versailles, little expecting his downfall, had given 
 orders to his housekeeper to let in the sun, so 
 that his rooms might not be damp, and forgot to 
 send any fresh order. The housekeeper carried 
 out his instructions to the letter, and when she 
 died, they were transmitted to her children who 
 succeeded her. 
 
 The de Maurepas found all the furniture near 
 the windows completely discoloured ; those back 
 near the wall had still some colour left in them. 
 It was quite a singular optical effect. The 
 countess was furious, but her husband only 
 laughed at her rage. 
 
 There was a certain set of furniture of one 
 
186 ANCIENT PATCHWORK [chap, ix 
 
 hundred pieces which had escaped the ravages of 
 the sun. It was very old, and had belonged to 
 an ancestor in the days of Henri III. It was 
 covered with tiny pieces of velvet of all colours, cut 
 in trianjj^les, and sewn together with gold thread. 
 
 Madame de Maurepas was most anxious to get 
 rid of it, so as to buy some furniture more d la 
 mode. She wanted covers made of bands of 
 tapestry with broad green velvet stripes. " I will 
 go up to 2,000 pistoles,"' she said. A fine sum 
 indeed with which to furnish a whole gallery ! 
 
 " You mi^ht render me a great service," she 
 said to me one evening. " Do you see that 
 bride ? " and she pointed to the Vicomtesse Beau- 
 harnais. '' Go and sit beside her, and persuade 
 her that she ought to buy our set of a hundred 
 pieces for her chateau at Roches en Poitou, which 
 her husband is about to refurnish. Tell her it 
 would look superb in the country, and we would 
 perhaps let her have it in consideration that M. de 
 Beauharnais is connected with the Nesmonds and 
 with Madame Beauharnais de Miramion, who 
 founded the order of Miramiones. Tell me, you 
 who always know everything, surely she was 
 canonised ? " 
 
 "My dear countess," I cried, "do you take 
 me for a broker or a huckster, that you expect me 
 to palm off your old furniture on confiding young 
 women because of Sainte Marie de Miramion?" 
 
 " You need not be so excited," she replied hotly, 
 
 ' A pistole was worth about ten francs. 
 
ILE DE ST. LOUIS i8; 
 
 " or mount your high horse ! One would think I 
 had asked you to do something disgraceful. You 
 are a terrible woman, always mocking at your 
 friends." 
 
 I want to introduce you, my dear grandson, 
 into a part of Paris that you do not know, the 
 lie de St. Louis. There resided a society of its 
 own — families of little wealth and insular taste, who 
 scorned to follow the tyranny of fashion by moving 
 into another quarter, and lived in their own little 
 set. We will, therefore, in imagination wend our 
 way past the quays and the Convent of the 
 Miramiones, and we shall find ourselves before 
 the mansion of the widow of President Mesmes, 
 Elizabeth de Harlay, Comtesse d'Avaux and 
 Marquise de St. Etienne-en-Forez. But within 
 these walls titles are possessed by right without 
 any display. The grand staircase is of Languedoc 
 marble, there were four salons opening into one 
 another, besides a long gallery and a library. The 
 ceilings were painted by Lebrun, and the portraits 
 on the walls by Mignard. The tall doors were 
 draped with curtains of amaranthine velvet bor- 
 dered with ermine. You will see no damask or 
 gold fringe here — it would be out of place ; this 
 mansion is austerely sumptuous. 
 
 The company is in keeping with the place. 
 Mile, de Thou, a cousin of our hostess, is that 
 old lady with an air of kindness and dignity, and 
 the last of an illustrious family. That pretty 
 woman is Madame Brisson, who bears an historical 
 
i88 FRENCH LITERATURE [chap, ix 
 
 name, and for whom I have such a regard that 
 I al\va)'s offer her an excuse for having to take 
 l^rccedence of her. Here is M. le President le 
 Boulanger, who is far prouder of that popular 
 name ' than of his seignoria! title of Montigny. 
 That young man with the grave aspect and air 
 of delicacy is the first President of the Chamber 
 of Audit, M. de Nicolai ; he has fourteen 
 children, and his uncle is a Marechal of France. 
 The Comtesse de F^nelon is about the only 
 person whom you might meet at Versailles, but 
 she belongs to this parish, so always remains in 
 the lie de St. Louis. There is another coterie 
 in the same quarter, who call themselves the 
 ChStelet, and with whom all these Parliamentary 
 officials will not associate ; but of them I know 
 nothing, and could only speak by hearsay. 
 
 As to the literature of that day, I say little, for 
 it bored me horribly. I never was present either 
 at the meetings of the Acad^mie, as they were 
 completely dominated by the encyclopaedist philo- 
 sophers. I do not think the foreign sophists were 
 as unreasonable as our French ones. Hume and 
 Gibbon, two English writers, had a certain historical 
 honesty and frankness in their discussions. 
 
 The Abb6 Galiani told me that one day he met 
 Franklin at the Necker's, and d'Alembert, who was 
 
 ' It is well known that Raoul de Montigny fed tlie starving poor 
 of Paris during the famine of 1459 by mortgaging his lands to buy 
 grain from Flanders. The peoplL- of Paris gave him the name of 
 le Boiilanger. 
 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 189 
 
 there, began to proclaim that the reign of Chris- 
 tianity was over. Franklin replied that the re- 
 volution with which the world was menaced was 
 rather the application of primitive Christianity, to 
 which we were bound to come after this half- 
 century of impiety. This American further said 
 that the result of this would be deplorable, as he 
 greatly feared the Anabaptists ! Qui vivra verra ! 
 
 I once had the honour of meeting M. Franklin 
 at supper at Madame de Tesse's. As a joke she 
 never let me know he was coming, and put me 
 next him at table. I paid them out by never 
 speaking a single word to him. What indeed could 
 I have found to say to this librarian and printer? 
 Franklin wore his hair long, like a Brittany deacon. 
 He had on a brown coat and a plum-coloured vest 
 and breeches, and his hands were also of the same 
 shade. His cravat was striped with red. But what 
 impressed me mostly was the way he ate eggs. 
 He broke them into a glass with butter, mustard, 
 pepper, and salt. It took at least six of them 
 to make this philosophical ragout, with which he 
 fed himself in small spoonfuls. He bit off the 
 heads of the asparagus instead of using a fork ; in 
 fact, he was a species of savage. But, after all, 
 every nation has its habits and customs and climate, 
 its refinements and its vulgarities. What really 
 annoyed me was hearing this American philosopher 
 being perpetually extolled as a social paragon and 
 a cosmopolitan marvel. 
 
 " What talent he has ! He has just said the most 
 
I90 HIS PHILOSOPHY [chap, ix 
 
 witty thing a propos of M. Goesman," said Madame 
 de Coigny. " He says it is easier for an ass 
 to deny a statement than for a philosopher to 
 prove it ! " 
 
 " ' Plus negaret asinus quam probaret philo- 
 sophus,'"' replied I. "My dear Madame, it is 
 nearly a thousand years since that was said for 
 the first time. You are rather behind the times." 
 
 > An ass can deny more than a philosopher can prove. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 M. Necker and M. ThSlusson — Madame Necker {nee Curchod) — Her 
 Pruderies and Affectations — The Necker Hospital — Episode of the 
 Baron de Pejrrusse — Mile. Necker's Marriage — Madame de StaSl 
 and Benjamin Constant — Meeting at the Hotel de Breteuil — 
 Genevieve Galliot and the Prince de Lamballe — The Portrait by 
 Greuze — The Secret Marriage — Machinations of the Due de 
 Chartres — Madame de Saint-Paer — Her Suicide and Death — Noble 
 Conduct of the Due de Penthi^vre— M. de Lamballe's Second 
 Marriage — His Death — Fate of the Princesse de Lamballe. 
 
 THE first words I ever heard said in Paris 
 about M. Necker were incriminations and 
 recriminations, which did not concern me in the 
 least, as they were all about his> illicit gains and 
 his ingratitude towards M. Thelusson, whose clerk 
 he had been. 
 
 Later on stories against his wife were circulated — 
 their infatuation for philosophy, and the strange 
 education they bestowed upon their daughter. 
 
 However, the clerk became a banker, and the 
 banker became a financier, and the financier a 
 millionaire. Maurepas, who detested good old 
 Turgot, the famous economist, made use of the talents 
 of this merchant of money as a means to work his 
 ill will on him. The king, Louis XVI., long resisted 
 opening the doors of his treasury to Necker, but 
 the old dictator persevered with inconceivable 
 
 191 
 
192 MADAME NECKER [chap, x 
 
 patience. He first obtained his entry into the 
 council of finance, and finally made Necker a 
 minister of his most Christian Majesty.' 
 
 Madame Necker was the daughter of a Geneva 
 preacher named Curchod, who came from Berne or 
 Vaud, it matters little which. She had been a child's 
 nurse or governess, or something of the kind. She 
 affected the most austere and bigoted Calvinism, 
 but ended by becoming an absolute sceptic, which 
 gained her many friends among the encyclopaedists. 
 
 When Mile. Curchod became the wife of M. 
 Necker, she could not endure the Thelussons, partly 
 because they found fault with her husband, but 
 more because of their knowledge of the Neckers' 
 antecedents. 
 
 Every one knows the house in the Rue Neuve 
 Artois, which was built for the widow of M. 
 Th^lusson, the banker of Geneva, to whom Necker 
 owed his fortune. This old lady had a horror 
 of bad air and cutaneous maladies which amounted 
 to a mania. 
 
 M. and Madame Necker took it into their heads 
 to found an asylum especially for the scrofiilous, 
 scabrous, and leprous (if any could be found), and 
 selected as a site a piece of ground which adjoined 
 and overlooked the gardens of the Hotel Thelusson, 
 which for their beauty and originality were the 
 talk of the town, and the old lady who owned 
 
 ■ Jacques Necker was bom in 1752. His father was a banker's 
 clerk, his uncle was a pork butcher at Basle. This has no importance 
 for a Genevese ; I only remark on it, seeing the coat-of-arms, which 
 later was borne by his daughter. 
 
"HOPITAL DE MADAME NECKER*' 193 
 
 them was in consequence brought into great pro- 
 minence. This also gave rise to much talk about 
 the former clerk, who was not admitted into her 
 salons. To shelter herself from the philanthropy 
 of the two Genevese, Madame Thdlusson was obliged 
 to buy up the land, though she did not need it. 
 It long stood empty, and at last the north side 
 of the Rue Chantereine was built on it. 
 
 The good and charitable Neckers talked long 
 and often over their plans for the founding of 
 an establishment for the suffering poor. All their 
 friends had written and spoken of it, and the 
 philosophical journals took it up. What was to be 
 done ? Finally it was decided to found the 
 " Hopital de Madame Necker" — a truly prodigious 
 piece of humility ! 
 
 As it was not possible to build it alongside of 
 the Hotel Thdlusson, it is worthy of remark that 
 the scrofulous, the scabrous, and the leprous were 
 carefully excluded from its walls. 
 
 The Neckers loved to manage, and while he 
 controlled our finances so disastrously, she tried 
 to set the fashions in dress and in speech. 
 She thought there was nothing so beautiful as 
 uncovering her person and wearing her dresses 
 extremely low cut. She considered this to be the 
 mark of an aristocrat, but the mode was not 
 followed by women of quality. She spoke with 
 mincing affectation, and a pretence of ultra refine- 
 ment. She considered herself so well brought up, 
 she would not blow her nose except on the wrong 
 
 13 
 
194 MME. NECKER'S PRETENSIONS Ichap. x 
 
 side of her pocket handkerchief, and would examine 
 the hem carefully before using it. 
 
 She was a tal], stiff woman, tightly corseted, 
 over-dressed, and trussed up in her clothes, like a 
 packet of tobacco. Laharpe declared that I had 
 said formerly that Madame Necker was modelled 
 like a savings bank, that she had the physiognomy 
 of a register, and looked like the whole town of 
 Geneva walking in a red silk pelisse. I don't 
 remember saying this, neither do I deny it. 
 
 What was most peculiar about her was that she 
 moved as if on springs, and talked like a machine, 
 first in the style of the Evangelical refugee, then 
 with the jargon of philanthropy, and finally with 
 a pedantic tone past enduring. 
 
 When the Due de Lauzun spoke of her after 
 dinner, he used to pour out torrents of execration 
 on her, and say that he would never die happy 
 unless he had first given her a box on the ear ! I 
 never heard any one express such unqualified 
 dislike, and the odd part was he did not even 
 know her. Only to hear her speak or to look at 
 her annoyed him. Poor Lauzun was kindness itself 
 to every one but the Neckers. Maybe it was a 
 presentiment of the fate which awaited him in the 
 revolution which this luckless family organised in 
 our country. 
 
 Madame Necker and I never spoke to each other 
 except once, at the Acad^mie Fran9aise. I was 
 seeking a place reserved for me beside the Duchesse 
 de Narbonne and near Mesdames de France, and I 
 
HER MYSTERIOUS ADMIRER 19S 
 
 passed in front of Madame Necker without even 
 thinking about her. She said to me, with an air of 
 condescension and patronage, " Madame, you are 
 at liberty to take this place, which I had kept for 
 the wife of the Ambassador of Sweden, who has 
 sent me word she is not coming." 
 
 " Madame," I replied with a tone of great 
 simplicity, "as I am at liberty to choose, I will go 
 and sit beside Mesdames the king's aunts." 
 
 Madame Necker, as well as her husband and 
 daughter, had a passion for the aristocracy. They 
 were always charmed to receive the Vicomte de 
 Montmorency on terms of intimacy. They had 
 always something to relate about the Vicomte. 
 They talked of nothing but the Vicomte, and 
 Ruthi^res declared that they made notes for their 
 guidance on the habits, manners, and forms of 
 speech of the Vicomte. 
 
 An amusing story is told of an adventure that 
 Madame Necker had with a gentleman, whom she 
 believed to have fallen in love with her, because he 
 had written two days running asking her to appoint 
 a meeting. It was mysteriously asserted that he 
 was an undoubted " somebody." Both mother and 
 daughter always imagined that they inspired the 
 opposite sex with most ardent sentiments. To 
 deliver herself from his persecutions, the virtuous 
 spouse of M. Necker determined to give him an 
 interview, but, in the interests of delicacy and to 
 preserve M. Necker's honour, as well as to give 
 a good example for the edification of their friends, 
 
196 THE LUNATIC BARON [chap, x 
 
 it was decided that M. Bonstellen and young 
 M. Thilusson should be present during his visit, 
 hidden behind a curtain. 
 
 Madame Necker put on her best red dress and 
 had her hair waved. She was, moreover, primed 
 with irresistible arguments and moral precepts. 
 When the door was at last thrown open, a little 
 gentleman of about sixty-five years of age was 
 announced as the Baron de Peyrusse. He had 
 a wild eye and the flurried haste of a lunatic. 
 
 "Madame," he exclaimed, "I have a declara- 
 tion to make to you, and I want to warn you about 
 something of which you are ignorant, and which 
 you ought to know. I am no child ; I have 
 seen much in my long life. I was formerly in the 
 service of M. de Rasilly, who played picquet so 
 beautifully — you must have heard of M. de Rasilly, 
 who played picquet so well. What age should you 
 say I was .■* " 
 
 " Monsieur le Baron, it is hardly for me to 
 
 fi 
 say 
 
 "As you please, dear lady — as you please. Any- 
 way, I went quite forty or fifty times to take the 
 mineral waters." 
 
 " But, Monsieur " 
 
 " Madame, have the kindness not to interrupt 
 me, because I have come here to render you a 
 service. I have seen the sick and dying, the 
 convalescents, and what cu*e called valetudinarians. 
 What funny figures they make of themselves, and 
 what odd folk one sees at the waters, and such 
 
HIS ABUSE OF MADAME NECKER 197 
 
 dresses ! I could tell you many things that I saw — 
 M. de Monfontaine and Madame de Mazarin, with 
 their hats wreathed with flowers, and lying on the 
 same couch " 
 
 " Really, Monsieur, you forget yourself." 
 
 " Let me go on, Madame ; do not play the prude. 
 As I said. before, the bathers wear extraordinary 
 costumes." 
 
 " But, Monsieur, what does all this matter 
 to me ? " 
 
 " Madame, do not interrupt me. I give you 
 my word of honour that, in spite of all the odd 
 figures I have seen, I have never met such an 
 extraordinary-looking woman as yourself, nor one 
 so badly got up." 
 
 " Sir, you are a madman ! " 
 
 " Not at all, Madame, and I have come to 
 advise you not to dress your head as you do at 
 present, or wear such hideous dresses. All the 
 expense you are pbt to is simply money thrown 
 away." 
 
 Madame Necker by this time was nearly 
 suffocating with rage. She had the greatest difficulty 
 in getting rid of this supposed lover, who all the 
 time was trying to take down her hair. At last 
 she got so terrified that the two gentlemen came 
 out from behind the curtains to her assistance. But 
 young M. Thelusson could not resist telling the 
 story to all his friends. 
 
 Now I must tell you of Mile, Necker, whose 
 happy childhood and girlhood had been passed in 
 
198 MLLE. DE NECKER [chap, x 
 
 the paths of innocence and modesty. She would 
 not even undress with her mother's little dog in 
 the room, on account of his sex ! She copied her 
 mother's prudery and affectation to the utmost. 
 She was ridiculously jealous of her mother, particu- 
 larly as to her share in M. Necker's affections. 
 They used to quarrel over him, and were almost 
 ready to tear him in pieces. The mother and 
 daughter lived on the worst possible terms, and 
 sometimes passed months without speaking ; but 
 when Mile. Necker, then Madame de Stael, lost 
 her mother, she was inconsolable, and her lamenta- 
 tions were endless. The father and daughter had 
 the body put into spirits of wine, like a natural 
 history specimen. It was deposited in the pavilion 
 of the garden at Coppet, and they say it is too 
 dreadful to look at. 
 
 It was Marie Antoinette who first formed the 
 plan of marrying Mile. Necker to the Baron de 
 Stael, the Swedish ambassador. 
 
 " She is very ugly and he is very good-looking," 
 said the queen, " but he is very poor and she is 
 very rich, and as they are both Protestants, it would 
 be a suitable match. Mile. Necker will never 
 refuse an alliance which will turn her into an 
 ambassadress." 
 
 So it was arranged accordingly, but the am- 
 bassador never looked altogether happy in the 
 company of his wife. As their apartments were 
 separated by a great courtyard, it was said that 
 they could look at each other across it. Report 
 
HER MARRIAGE WITH M. DE STAEL 199 
 
 had it that M. de Stael was very rarely seen at his 
 window. 
 
 As soon as it was necessary for her to think of 
 the education of her children, she set to work to 
 find a suitable tutor and governess in the most 
 ostentatious manner. A phoenix of a tutor and 
 a miracle of a governess were necessary to supple- 
 ment the motherly care which in reality Madame de 
 Stael did not bestow upon them. She was more 
 absorbed in political and philosophical occupations. 
 The principal thing that she required of the in- 
 structors of her children was that they should have 
 known love in the past, but be no longer con- 
 cerned with it in the present — a somewhat difficult 
 thing to make sure of! 
 
 It was after her husband's death that Madame 
 de Stael added the name of Holstein to her own. 
 The three branches of the royal house of Holstein 
 never could explain this. Her husband, having 
 been a subject of Prince Holstein, would never 
 have sanctioned such a proceeding. 
 
 With all her love of aristocracy, Madame de 
 Stael Holstein never had any taste for mag- 
 nificence ; she remained the middle-class Swiss 
 banker's daughter, with a genuine love of money. 
 Her enemies accused her of stinginess, and her 
 friends had to confess there was nothing to eat in 
 her house. 
 
 A scene she had once with her friend Benjamin 
 Constant is often mentioned, six or seven people 
 having been present at it. He owed her 22,000 
 
20O HER PATRIOTIC PAMPHLETS [chap, x 
 
 francs, which he either could not or would not 
 pay. 
 
 " You have such beautiful hands and such 
 lovely eyes," he said, hoping to appease her 
 wrath. 
 
 "It is quite true," she replied, half-mollified ; 
 " but I have had the pleasure of being told that 
 before at less cost ! " 
 
 I saw Madame de Stael at the H6tel de Breteuil, 
 just at the time when she published her Paix 
 inUrieure, which she dedicated to the people of 
 France — a fairly brilliant treatise, but without 
 common sense. Such writings, though full of 
 imagination and talent, are rarely established on 
 a foundation of reason. I was sitting at a party 
 beside my daughter-in-law, your mother, when we 
 heard this lady holding forth in a loud voice : 
 
 "What is to me the opinion of this miserable 
 and unworthy enemy ? France ! France ! my destiny 
 is to work your happiness ! " 
 
 " What an emphatic patriot," said your mother. 
 We decided it could be no other but the daughter 
 of Necker. She presently came and sat beside 
 me, that is to say, above me, higher up, and next 
 to Madame de Matignon, who was doing the 
 honours for her father. This without any ceremony 
 or one word of excuse. She had indeed learnt 
 the ways of the great world from M. de Narbonne 
 and Vicomte de Montmorency I 
 
 " Madame de Crdquy," she said, with charming 
 familiarity, " I am delighted to make your acquaint- 
 
HER WANT OF MANNERS 201 
 
 ance ; I have long been seeking the occasion to 
 do so. I have a singular predilection for your 
 family, amounting to veneration." 
 
 She then went on to speak of having seen at 
 the house of the Archbishop of Paris that beauti- 
 ful portrait of the Due de Crequy-Lesdiguieres 
 
 " I can understand now," she said, " how he 
 turned all heads, and was the idol of the women of 
 his time. Do you not think that this young duke 
 was in all probability the son of the archbishop ? 
 How else could his portrait be in the ChAteau de 
 Conflans, and in one of the panels, too ? I am 
 convinced that the handsome archbishop was his 
 father." 
 
 Your mother, who was still very young, was on 
 the point of bursting out laughing, so I was not 
 sorry to have the opportunity to give my daughter- 
 in-law a lesson in good manners, and at the same 
 time put this parvenue wife of an ambassador in 
 her proper place. I looked at her very seriously, 
 then half smiled, and said that if I had believed 
 what she was doing me the honour of telling me, 
 I should not have married M. de Crequy. 
 
 She appeared taken aback and thoroughly out 
 of countenance, and soon departed into another 
 room. 
 
 One of Madame de Stael's political misdeeds 
 was having been the agent and mover of the first 
 blood shed in the revolution. Comte de Narbonne 
 had the indiscretion to mention to Madame de 
 Stael that M. Foulon d'Escoltiers had addressed 
 
202 HER ADVANCED IDEAS [chap, x 
 
 a memorl.il to the king, advising his Majesty to 
 arrest the principal revolutionists. She had the 
 baseness to repeat this to Mirabeau. Foulon was 
 brought to the scaffold in consequence, and his 
 death will always be laid at her door. 
 
 It was said of Necker's daughter that she had 
 more mind than a woman could safely make use 
 of. I should rather say she had more passions 
 than a woman should cultivate. She brought out 
 much later a book as a eulogy on M. and Madame 
 Necker. It was also in praise of adultery and 
 suicide, and contained numerous surprising state- 
 ments such as: "Women have no existence save 
 through love," "The history of their lives begins 
 and ends with love." This is certainly not the 
 case with sensible and honest women. Some one 
 told her that I laughed at these sayings. " Your 
 Madame de Crdquy is no longer a woman," she 
 replied. Did she imagine old women are turned 
 into unicorns ? According to a passage in her 
 own book, she began by interrogating life, but it 
 brought her no response ; then she made proof of 
 life, and it revealed all to her ; yet all the same 
 she declares "life was a failure, and she was a 
 soul exiled from love, with all hope closed to 
 her." Poor, exiled soul ! she was about forty-nine 
 years old then ! 
 
 The year 1784 was marked, among other symp- 
 toms of the dissolution which menaced us, with an 
 immense increase in suicides, and also many 
 unsuitable marriages were made, every one fol- 
 
THE PAINTER GREUZE 203 
 
 lowing their own inclination, often with great 
 efifrontery. 
 
 I am going to relate to you a very sad episode 
 in the life of Louis Stanislas de Bourbon, Prince 
 de Lamballe, only son and heir of the Due de 
 Penthidvre. I can answer for it that it was with 
 great reluctance that the duke had agreed to give 
 his only daughter in marriage to that Due de 
 Chartres, afterwards Due d'Orleans, whom we 
 have seen successively as Anglomaniac, patriot, 
 democrat, and partisan of the Terror. The Prince 
 de Lamballe had naturally a great aversion to his 
 brother-in-law. M. de Tessd was at this time a 
 patron of Greuze, the painter,^ and sent him 
 with several of his pictures for me to look at. 
 They were all scenes of pastoral life— fancy 
 portraits most of them, so I imagined. One 
 especially was the head of a young girl of great 
 beauty, with an expression of nobility which filled 
 me with enthusiasm and admiration. I longed to 
 have it to hang up in my oratory. It was a portrait, 
 and Greuze seemed annoyed at the attention 
 I bestowed on it.^ There was evidently some 
 mystery, which embarrassed him. He answered 
 vaguely : he did not know — he could not say ; but 
 the very idea that I should not see that lovely 
 face again made me quite melancholy. Just then 
 
 ' Jean Baptiste Greuze, born in 1726, died 1805, a painter celebrated 
 for the purity of his style and his compositions. 
 
 ' Probably the original model of the famous Cruche Cass6e, and 
 other of his studies of female heads. They all bear a strong resem- 
 blance one to the other. 
 
304 PRINCE DE LAMBALLE [chap, x 
 
 the Due de Penthi^vre was announced. He 
 bought the largest of the pictures at once without 
 asking the price, and then begged Greuze to make 
 a copy of the head I admired so much. And he 
 asked so courteously, yet with such persistence, 
 that the picture was finished within fifteen days, 
 and arrived on the eve of my birthday. 
 
 I thanked the kind donor with all my heart for 
 this angelic image, and I hung it in my salon 
 and showed it to all my friends. 
 
 Two or three days afterwards I was writing 
 in my boudoir, when I was informed that a 
 visitor was waiting to see me. I thought it 
 was the Portuguese ambassador, and begged that 
 he would wait, and in about a quarter of an 
 hour I went to my drawing-room unannounced. 
 I did not ring to have the doors thrown open. 
 Actually I had strength enough to do this for 
 myself ! 
 
 The queen once told me that Madame de 
 Maurepas had said to her, " The Dowager de 
 Crequy is as courageous and resolute as a dragon. 
 If the bells in her house were out of order, she 
 would be capable of opening the folding-doors 
 herself, and would be indifferent to the blisters 
 which might arise from the exertion!" 
 
 So I came in quietly, and found, not the ambas- 
 sador, but the Prince de Lamballe, standing gazing 
 at my beautiful head by Greuze. 
 
 " Dear madame, who gave you that picture ? 
 How comes it here?" 
 
HIS ROMANTIC LOVE STORY 205 
 
 " Monseigneur, it was the Due de Penthi^vre 
 who gave it to me." 
 
 " My father ? My father gave it ? " And uttering 
 these words, he fell in a dead faint, as if struck 
 down by a blow. My first care was to shut the 
 door, and I only allowed the faithful Dupont, his 
 wife and nephew, to come to my assistance, as I 
 knew them to be trustworthy folk, and I feared 
 what he might say when recovering his senses. 
 
 His fainting-fit had produced such violent 
 haemorrhage that all his clothes were covered with 
 blood, so that I had to send to his house for others. 
 I tried to console and reassure this poor young 
 prince, for I Iqyed him as if he had been your 
 brother. 
 
 He begged leave to remain with me for the 
 rest of the day, and then he told me, in confidence, 
 the following painful story. 
 
 When little more than a boy he passed most of 
 his time at the Chateau d'Annet. He was of a 
 melancholy and contemplative nature and his father 
 thought the country was the best place for him, 
 as there he had leisure and freedom. Though he 
 was almost always accompanied by a gentleman-in- 
 waiting, he often managed to get away by himself. 
 
 One evening, when wandering alone, he found a 
 young peasant girl in great trouble, for her goat 
 had become unruly, and had dragged her over 
 some rocks, where she had fallen, and her forehead 
 was bleeding from having struck against a sharp 
 edge. Young Louis went to her rescue, and lifting 
 
2o6 THE BEAUTIFUL GENEVIEVE [chap, x 
 
 her up, wiped her face with his cambric handker- 
 chief. She was adorably pretty, and he felt that 
 he never could forget her smile or the silvery tones 
 of her voice when she stammered out her thanks. 
 
 Genevieve Galliot lived with her mother, the 
 widow of one of the tenants, a highly respectable 
 man who had been killed by a bull. The poor 
 woman was dying of consumption. The prince had 
 no money about him save one louis in his pocket, 
 but having accompanied the girl to her home, he 
 pressed it with great delicacy on Madame Galliot, 
 saying his mother had sent it to her. While loading 
 him with benedictions, she naturally asked his 
 mother's name. To answer the truth would have 
 been at once to raise up a barrier between them ; 
 he stammered, and said his mother's name was 
 Mod^ne (which of course was the case). 
 
 The invalid merely remarked, " There are so 
 many citizens of whom we know nothing," and 
 seemed without any suspicion as to his real rank. 
 
 The winter passed, and he sought every oppor- 
 tunity of meeting. Time only added to his 
 admiration and infatuation for Genevieve. 
 
 One evening, on coming to the cottage, having 
 failed to meet her at their usual trysting-place, he 
 found Genevieve kneeling at her mother's bedside, 
 while the old cur^ of the village was administering 
 the last Sacraments to the dying woman, 
 
 M. dc Lamballe knelt beside her, absorbed in 
 this first sight of a Christian death-bed. To him it 
 appeared a most beautiful and solemn moment, 
 
HIS SECRET MARRIAGE 207 
 
 though the scene was in a poor, isolated cabin, and 
 the wasted form on the pallet bed was but a poor 
 villager. When all was over, and the priest had 
 risen from his knees, he perceived who the stranger 
 was who was kneeling beside them. 
 
 " Is it you, Monseigneur ? " he exclaimed. 
 
 Genevieve, bathed in tears stirred by her grief, 
 expressed no surprise on learning who the " citizen " 
 was, and allowed her lover to lead her gently away 
 from beside her dead mother, and place her in 
 charge of the curd's old servant, who had come to 
 help in the nursing. He informed the cure that 
 he would be answerable for all expenses, including 
 the keep of the young girl, whom he solemnly 
 committed to his care. As soon as they had 
 withdrawn, he knelt down, and kissing the cold 
 fingers of the corpse, he said, " Suzanne Galliot, 
 I swear to you on this holy crucifix, which I now 
 lay on your lips, that I will marry your daughter, 
 and the name of her future husband is Louis de 
 Bourbon, Prince de Lamballe." 
 
 He told me at length the story of Suzanne's 
 funeral, the education of Genevieve, and the history 
 of their loves, and how their secret marriage had 
 been solemnised by one of the chaplains at the 
 Palais-Royal. All this without the knowledge of 
 the Due de Penthievre, but with the connivance of 
 the Due de Chartres, who had not failed to perceive 
 that any children born of such a marriage would 
 never succeed to the vast fortune of the Lamballes, 
 and that therefore his wife would be sole heiress. 
 
208 CONSEQUENT UNHAPPINESS [chap, x 
 
 M. de Lamballe had expected happiness, but 
 did not find it. The exigencies of his rank, the 
 difficulty of evading the curiosity of the numerous 
 servants and retinue, the fear of the scorn of 
 the idle world, and above all the certainty that 
 should Genevieve be seen in Paris, all eyes would 
 be attracted to her, even in the churches, all com- 
 bined to fill him with disquietude. The young 
 prince therefore set up a very modest establishment 
 at Clamart-sous-Meudon, and spent as much time 
 as he could at his father's Chdteau de Penthi^vre. 
 
 Madame de Saint-Paer (the name by which 
 Genevieve was called, and which was that of a feudal 
 tenure of the principality of Lamballe) also began 
 her new life by thinking she was very happy, and 
 if true love could ensure perfect happiness, she had 
 it without stint, but she suffered many a pang. 
 The prudence which obliged the prince to remain 
 in Paris or Versailles for seven and eight days at a 
 time was a sore trial, and when he came to Clamart, 
 he could sometimes only remain for ten minutes. 
 Madame de Saint-Paer wrote to her husband every 
 day, and sometimes twice a day ; but though he 
 could receive her letters without any difficulty, 
 endless precautionary measures had to be taken to 
 enable the Prince de Lamballe to write to his wife, 
 and in the whole establishment at Penthi^vre there 
 was only one servant whom he dared trust with 
 messages to Clamart. 
 
 So the gentle Genevieve spent weary days and 
 nights of solitude, filled with fears and forebodings. 
 
DUC DE PENTHIEVRE 209 
 
 In her husband's absence she wept because he 
 was not there. His presence was only a reminder 
 how soon he would again be forced to leave her. 
 When no letters reached her, she thought he was ill, 
 or had been taken prisoner, or had ceased to love 
 her, and the Prince grieved for her and for himself. 
 
 One day the Due de Penthievre informed me 
 that his son had had the misfortune to become 
 reconciled to his brother-in-law, and that he often 
 went to suppers at the gardens of Mousseaux, in 
 very doubtful company. He also added that his son 
 was in a state of great depression, and had kept 
 his bed for forty-eight hours. 
 
 It caused me infinite pain to be told these things, 
 for I had faithfully promised Louis not to reveal 
 his secret. I trembled lest it should escape me 
 unawares, and I had many scruples in keeping 
 back anything from such a good and kind father. 
 He saw my embarrassment, and exclaimed, " I 
 am sure you are keeping something concealed from 
 your best friend." 
 
 I burst into tears. "It is true," I replied; "but 
 ask me no more at present, and tell your son I 
 will come and see him to-morrow." 
 
 The Due de Chartres had himself arranged every- 
 thing for the secret marriage, and having wormed 
 himself into M. de Lamballe's confidence, now set 
 spies to watch his brother-in-law's actions. 
 
 He learnt that the prince went but rarely to 
 Clamart, and that Madame de Saint-Paer suffered 
 continued jealousy. He concluded that M. de 
 
 14 
 
2IO ILLNESS OF THE PRINCE [chap, x 
 
 Lamballe was already tired of his wife, and willing 
 to abandon her. It is needless for me to tell you 
 of the devices employed to entice the prince to 
 Mousseaux ; indeed it would be repugnant to me 
 to have to do so. 
 
 It was possible that the Due de Chartres was 
 himself in love with the beautiful Genevieve, 
 and this was the opinion of Madame de Tess6 ; 
 but for my part I inclined to the notion that he 
 was actuated by a feeling of hatred towards M. 
 de Lamballe rather than by one of criminal passion 
 for Madame de Saint-Paer. 
 
 The prince had fallen seriously ill, and a letter 
 from his wife, announcing her intention of visiting 
 him, had only increased his torments, and he 
 wrote absolutely forbidding her to do so. The 
 Due de Penthi^vre only allowed his daughter 
 and myself to be admitted. The physicians 
 feared a malignant fever, and we were watching 
 the symptoms with grave anxiety, when a 
 man was announced in the ante-chamber, who 
 desired to see the prince on a matter of life and 
 death. I interrogated him, and found he was the 
 servant of Madame de Saint-Paer, and with tears 
 he informed me that his mistress had taken poison. 
 He had not dared present himself before the duke. 
 
 "You lave acted quite rightly," I said, and I 
 made up my mind at once. I sent for my own 
 surgeon, and within an hour we were at Clamart, 
 and by the bedside of Genevieve. I found the 
 house in confusion. Her maid had lost her head, 
 
GENEVIEVE COMMITS SUICIDE 211 
 
 and called in all the village to her assistance. I 
 took advantage of the neighbours to send them 
 off to find a priest' but the notary informed me 
 that the cure would probably refuse to come, seeing 
 that the poor lady had brought about her death 
 herself I ordered them to leave me alone with 
 Madame de Saint-Paer, and when my servants 
 informed the frightened, gaping crowd that I was 
 the Marquise de Crequy, they retired at once. 
 
 " Ah, Madame, what immense kindness ! Can it 
 really be you?" was all that the fair and gentle 
 Genevieve could utter. Alas ! it was too late : the 
 poison she had managed to procure and swallow 
 had already done its work. My doctor assured 
 me she could not live many hours, and predicted 
 that after the convulsions she would fall into a 
 state of torpor. She implored with cries of agony 
 that a confessor should be brought to her. 
 
 " I know," I said, " that there is one of the 
 priests here in whom your husband has the greatest 
 confidence." 
 
 " My husband ! What ! you know that he is my 
 husband ? Ah ! God forgive my crime in marrying 
 him." 
 
 When the confessor arrived, I wanted to withdraw, 
 but she implored me to remain. 
 
 " Do not abandon me," she cried ; " stay, Madame, 
 beside my bed, that I may not die alone, like a poor 
 outcast. Stay, I implore you ; you may listen to 
 my confession." 
 
 She had already poured out to me all the 
 
212 HER DEATH [chap, x 
 
 calumnies and griefs that had led her to commit 
 suicide, as her only way out of her difficulties ; 
 and when I mentioned her husband was as ill as 
 herself, " Ah ! so much the better," she murmured ; 
 " we shall soon be united." 
 
 "Alas!" I cried with tears, "I cannot stay — I 
 must go back to Paris ; but I will speedily return, 
 and not alone, I hope." 
 
 In an hour and a half I stood again beside her. 
 " Genevieve, do you know me ? Can you hear my 
 voice ? " (She had fallen into a stupor after receiving 
 absolution.) " This is the Due de Penthievre : he 
 has come to bless his only son's wife." 
 
 She opened her eyes, which were already glazing 
 over, but with an effort she fixed them on the duke. 
 She smiled with ineffable sweetness, and murmured, 
 " I have not deserved this happiness. Forgive 
 
 me, Monseigneur ! Your son " And that was 
 
 all the dying Genevieve could say. 
 
 " My son selected you as his companion, and the 
 Church has consecrated your union ; our Father in 
 Heaven gave you His benediction. I forgive and 
 bless you with all my heart, and I will pray with 
 you and for you, my daughter." 
 
 Ere he had done speaking, she had rendered up 
 her soul to her God, and, if we might judge by the 
 beauty and serenity of her face, we had reason to 
 feel that she had died from joy at hearing those 
 words. 
 
 Genevieve Galliot, whose portrait, I trust, you 
 will always keep, is buried in the vaults of the 
 
SECOND MARRIAGE 213 
 
 collegiate church at Dreux, beside the Prince de 
 Lamballe's mother, Marie Thdrese d'Este de 
 Modene. Whenever I go to Montflaux I never 
 fail to stop at Dreux, that I may say a prayer on 
 her behalf at the Church of St. Etienne. 
 
 M. de Lamballe's illness was long and painful, but 
 his convalescence was even more so. He emerged 
 from it purified and chastened like gold out of the 
 furnace, and with a resignation that equalled his 
 grief From deference to the wishes of his father, 
 and the solicitations of his sister, and by my advice, 
 he married, two years later, Mile, de Carignan. 
 Fatal alliance ! sinister rejoicings ! I have never 
 ceased to see before me the chapel of the H6tel de 
 Toulouse, decked with flowers and rich draperies, 
 and illumined with its million lustres. I shall 
 always see the fine, handsome figure of the Prince 
 de Lamballe, his eyes filled with tears, the con- 
 sternation depicted on the features of the members 
 of the family, while the young bride wept at the 
 sadness of her fiance. It was the most melancholy 
 bridal party, and he did not look paler or sadder 
 in death than he did on his wedding-day.^ 
 
 He died very shortly afterwards. 
 
 ' Madame de Lamballe was beauty, goodness, and virtue personified. 
 But all her goodness and gentleness could not soften the hearts of 
 those inhuman tigers who immolated her on the altar of equality. 
 She was massacred in her prison in 1792 in an exceptionally horrible 
 manner, and her body was subjected to foul insults after her death. 
 She had never in her life committed any action that could have caused 
 the hatred of the people. But she was the friend of the Queen, the 
 sister-in-law of Phillipe EgalitS, and, perhaps more than all, she was 
 possessed of an income of 600,000 livres, which was reason enough 
 to bring down upon her the wrath of these execrable tyrants. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 Voltaire's Return to Paris— The de Villette's House— Voltaire's Out- 
 rageous Behaviour — His Illness and Desire for Confession — His 
 Visit to the Theatre — The Laurel Wreath — His Correspondence 
 with the Cui6 of Saint-Sulpice — His Hypocrisy — His Death — His 
 Funeral. 
 
 WE learned with some astonishment that 
 Voltaire had received permission to return 
 t(j Paris, and that he intended putting up at that 
 absurd house of Madame de Villette at the corner 
 of the Rue de Beaune and the Quai des Theatins. 
 I say absurd, for every one made a joke of it. The 
 Villettes had turned nearly all the first floor into 
 one huge room, and carried up the ceiling almost 
 to the roof. The dining-room was on the second 
 floor, and a staircase of rustic woodwork led to it. 
 The walls were painted to resemble an arbour. M. 
 de Villette had a bedroom in the attics, and the 
 Marquise slept in a cupboard at the end of the 
 corridor. 
 
 Voltaire duly arrived on February loth, 1778, 
 and, without waiting a moment even to rest himself, 
 walked off impatiently to see his dear friend 
 d'Argental. 
 
 He wore a large red velvet cloak braided with 
 gold and lined with sable, and a cap to match, so 
 
 ai4 
 
VOLTAIRE RECEIVES HIS FRIENDS 215 
 
 that the passers-by took him for a masquerader, 
 and the street boys shouted after him. 
 
 Next morning by seven o'clock he was already 
 out of bed, receiving the congratulations of the 
 philosophers. He was wrapped in his furs, and 
 wore his night cap, for, as he told every one, he was 
 going back to bed again, as he was sure he was 
 dying.^ All the same he went on receiving till past 
 ten at night. Madame de Villette and Madame 
 Denys sat in an extemporised waiting-room, where 
 the guests were ushered in, while de Villette and 
 d'Argental announced the visitors with a ridiculous 
 air of importance and solemnity. No one of really 
 good standing presented himself that day. 
 
 Next morning a number of people sent to 
 enquire after M. de Voltaire's health, as it was 
 known that, on hearing suddenly of the death of 
 M. Lekain,^ he had fainted away. He had a crape 
 band tied round his night-cap, and for days 
 remained inconsolable and inaccessible. After that 
 he received a deputation of actors from the 
 Comedie Francaise, and they found him as gay as 
 a lark. 
 
 The inconsequence and want of tact of this old 
 man were astonishing. One day, in the presence 
 of seven or eight persons, he said, " I am quite 
 
 ' Voltaire greatly exaggerated the state of his health, and used to 
 declare himself on every occasion a dying man ; but, possibly he 
 really was beginning to fail, and suffered more than he was given 
 credit for. He rallied considerably the following month, but his end 
 was not far off, and he died in May of the same year, 1778. 
 
 ' Celebrated French tragedian. 
 
2i6 THE DINNER PARtV (chap. x. 
 
 indifferent at not having obtained permission to go 
 to Versailles. What would have happened ? The 
 king would have talked of my hunting at Ferney, 
 and the queen would have spoken of my theatre. 
 Monsieur would have questioned me on my income, 
 and Madame would have cited some verses of my 
 tragedies. The Comte d'Artois would have made 
 some malicious remark, and the Comtesse d'Artois 
 would have said nothing." 
 
 For my part, 1 considered all this prodigiously 
 impertinent. 
 
 The last time that Voltaire dined at the table of 
 the de Villettes there was a large party. He 
 noticed that his own drinking-cup, on which his 
 arms were engraved, and which he had brought 
 from Ferney, was not on the table. " Where is my 
 goblet ? " he cried, his eyes sparkling with anger. 
 The servant began to stammer. 
 " Scoundrel, I want my goblet. Go and fetch 
 it, or I will not dine," cried Voltaire, in a fury. 
 
 Seeing that it was not forthcoming, he rose from 
 the table in a rage, and rushing to his room, bolted 
 himself in. Madame Denys, M. de Villette and his 
 wife, beside others of the guests, came up in succes- 
 sion, imploring him to come down, or at least open 
 his door, but he replied never a word. As they 
 feared that he had fainted, a ladder was brought 
 to the window. M. de Villevielle climbed up, 
 and after breaking a pane, managed to open the 
 fastening of the window, and gained access to the 
 room. 
 
triS RUt)fiNES$ 217 
 
 " Is it you, my dear friend ? " said Voltaire, with 
 admirable gentleness. " What do you want ? " 
 
 " I come, in the name of your disconsolate 
 friends, to implore you to come down amongst 
 them." 
 
 " But I dare not do so. They will all laugh at 
 me." 
 
 " Not for a moment, dear sir. We all have our 
 favourite possessions, one a drinking cup, another a 
 knife or a pen — nothing is more natural." 
 
 " You are trying to make me excuse myself in 
 my own eyes," he replied savagely. 
 
 " That is quite unnecessary. I have read some- 
 where that the sage Locke was very choleric." 
 
 " All right then, only go down first and see that 
 that damned servant is not anywhere about, or I 
 should die of chagrin." 
 
 He returned like a spoilt child and sat down at 
 the table, and the dinner, which had been inter- 
 rupted for an hour and a half, was continued. I 
 think all the ladies invited by the de Villettes 
 must indeed have been philosophers, if they 
 showed no surprise or disgust at this outrageous 
 behaviour. 
 
 When I was asked if I intended calling on M. 
 de Voltaire, I replied that I was certainly not 
 enough of a Stoic to patiently endure the rudeness 
 of the old scholar. For that it was necessary to 
 have been educated in a very different school. I 
 longed to break a lance with him, and I knew 
 that no consideration would prevent my putting 
 
2i8 HIS FAILING HEALTH [chap, xi 
 
 M. de V'oltaire in his proper place, as I had done 
 for the last sixty-five years. 
 
 " Do not be afraid," was the reply. " Voltaire 
 has a mortal terror of your mocking words. He 
 will take very i^ood care, I assure you, to say 
 nothing, nor to allow anything to be said, in your 
 presence which could possibly annoy you." 
 
 " He has already annoyed me in a manner which 
 I cannot forgive," I replied. " He has taken the 
 trouble to write to me since his return, to say that 
 he longs for an opportunity to throw himself at the 
 feet of their Majesties ; and I uncharitably wrote 
 back that he had quite another journey than the 
 on(' from Paris to \^ersailles to prepare for. If he 
 had come to visit me, I would, of course, have 
 received him politely ; but as he will never go out 
 again, we shall meet no more I assure you I 
 have no wish to show him any further attention, 
 and you will see that I shall keep my word.'' 
 
 It was well known that Voltaire was immensely 
 disappointed at the Emperor Joseph not having 
 thought fit to stop at Ferney to visit this grand 
 old philosopher. This was owing to a promise 
 he had made to his mother, the wise Marie- 
 Th^rese, who had always looked on Voltaire as 
 the enemy of humanity, in consequence of his scorn 
 of Divinity. 
 
 To amuse Voltaire's weary hours, ^L Laharpe 
 was sent for to read him one of his tragedies, but 
 the bad elocution of the author worried Voltaire 
 to such an extent it brought on fever, and Tronchin 
 
DR. TRONCHIN 219 
 
 forbade literature, politics, and, above all, religion 
 to be mentioned before him. 
 
 Tronchin knew very well that he was dying ; 
 but then, what can you expect from a Calvinist 
 doctor, and a Genevese into the bargain ? 
 
 From that day Voltaire was not allowed to 
 converse with any one. Those who came to visit 
 him were only permitted to look at him. 
 
 He tried to smile, and made grimaces expressive 
 of pleasure at the sight of those he liked, while if 
 those he disliked came near him, he gave vent to 
 horrid cries. 
 
 Some words that M. de Malesherbes let fall 
 alarmed Tronchin, for there was a rumour that 
 the question had arisen as to the advisability of 
 removing the invalid from Paris, on account of his 
 anti-canonical followers. 
 
 M. Tronchin therefore, in direct opposition to 
 his own convictions, went to Madame Denys, and 
 told her that if her uncle manifested any inclina- 
 tions towards religion, it would be as well to en- 
 courage them. Madame Detiys replied that there 
 was no opposition on her uncle's part to seeing 
 a priest ; indeed, he was in habit of confessing and 
 receiving absolution whenever he felt particularly 
 ill, and to her knowledge he had done so seven 
 or eight times during the last ten years. 
 
 The Cure of Saint-Sulpice, when appealed to, 
 sent a priest named the Abbe Gauthier to visit 
 Voltaire. This man being satisfied after his pre- 
 liminary visit to the philosopher, the Cure of Saint- 
 
220 VOLTAIRE'S DECLARATION [chap, xi 
 
 Sulpice consequently called upon him the following 
 morning, and had no difficulty in obtaining from 
 the sick man the following declaration, written with 
 his own hand. I have seen the original document, 
 which was given into the keeping of the late 
 archbishop. 
 
 "This 2nd of March, 1778, being in Paris in 
 the house of the Marquis de Villette, I, the under- 
 signed Francois-Marie Arouet de Voltaire, Squire 
 and Lord of Ferney, Tourney, and other places, 
 Gentleman-in-Ordinary to the King, and one of 
 the forty of the Academie Fran^aisc, etc., declare 
 that at the age of eighty-four, having been attacked 
 with a violent haemorrhage, I am unable to 
 present myself at the Church of St, Sulpice, the 
 parish in which I am residing. M. le Cure has 
 had the charity to add to his many good works 
 that of sending the Abbe Gauthier to me, to 
 whom I have made my confession, and, God being 
 willing, I will die in the communion of the Holy, 
 Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman Church, into which 
 I had the privilege of being born. And I solemnly 
 affirm that if I have scandalised the said Church, 
 1 humbly ask pardon of God and of Her. In 
 proof of which I now sign in the presence of the 
 Abb6 Mignot, my nephew, and M. de Villevielle 
 my friend, on the day of the year mentioned above. 
 
 " Voltaire." 
 
 M. (li- Villette went so far as to assert that 
 Voltaire, after signing this pai)er, said to M. de 
 
HIS VEHEMENT LANGUAGE 221 
 
 Tersac, " You are quite right, M. le Cure, a man 
 ought to re-enter the Church and die in the faith 
 of his forefathers. Were I on the banks of the 
 Ganges, I should wish to die with a cow's tail in 
 my hand." 
 
 But the Cure of St. Sulpice protested to me 
 that Voltaire had never said anything of the kind 
 in his presence, and that he wept bitterly after 
 writing his declaration. 
 
 " M. I'anatomiste," said Voltaire, addressing 
 Doctor Lorry, "why are you so much surprised at 
 my having made confession ? Do you regard me 
 as utterly impious." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " replied the doctor. 
 " ' Vous craignez qu'on I'ignore, et vous en faites 
 gloire,' " quoting one of Voltaire's own verses ; upon 
 which the latter began to cry out, " I want to leave 
 this house. I will not be bullied by my friends as 
 well as my enemies, nor by the learned any more 
 than by the fools. I will not have my body thrown 
 on the dunghill. I am a child of Paris, do you 
 understand — a well-born child, who was not found 
 in the gutter ; and I want my funeral to be as 
 decorous as my baptism. I want plenty of wax 
 tapers — lighted tapers. I want black hangings 
 with velvet bands, silver crosses, and tears, and 
 silver fringe^, and the arms of M. de Voltaire on 
 all sides. I want a superb, mortuary cloth placed 
 over me, and as much holy water as if it were 
 raining. My God, how I suffer ! If my niece has 
 not the sense to find quarters for me where I 
 
222 DISAVOWS HIS WRITINGS [chap, xi 
 
 can die in peace, I will start off to Ferney. I do 
 not care if I die on the road. Go to the devil," 
 he said to his nephew d'Hornoy, who tried to 
 interrupt him, " and leave me to make the sign 
 of the cross for as long as I pleasK." 
 
 Before administering the Sacraments the arch- 
 bishop gave an order that Voltaire should retract, 
 according to rule, some of the statements he had 
 made. 
 
 " I have always disavowed the writings of 
 which he speaks," he cried, " and the impieties 
 attributed to me are infamous calumnies." 
 
 He was busy writing out the list of works 
 which he was required to disavow, when M. 
 d'Alembert and M. Condorcet came to reproach 
 him for this weakness. 
 
 " I won't be buried like a dog," he replied, grind- 
 ing his teeth, "and if you go on worrying me, 
 I know what I shall do. I will make a vow 
 to Sainte-Genevieve. I will publish it in the 
 Gazette de France. I will have a picture painted 
 of Voltaire kneeling before her shrine, and then I 
 will make restitution. I will leave my fortune to 
 the incurables, and I will see you all damned, to 
 save myself from the dunghill. Ah ! my friends," 
 he continued in a piteous voice, " Voltaire is dying. 
 Don't you see he is losing his reason ? Cannot you 
 leave a poor old man to die in peace with his good 
 master the king, his pastor the archbishop, and 
 Sainte-GeneviSve our patron saint of Paris ? Do 
 you know," he continued with renewed vigour. 
 
STORY OF THE BLANKET 223 
 
 " that my grandmother was devoted to Sainte- 
 Genevieve, and her husband was one of the 
 sixteen bearers of her shrine in 1683? Perhaps 
 you think it is nothing to have carried the relics 
 of Sainte-Genevieve. Say so if you like, and I 
 will tear your eyes out ! " 
 
 All the philosophers remained dumfounded, 
 and retired in a rage. 
 
 Voltaire thereupon desired M . de Gagniere to read 
 to him a couple of chapters out of St. Franqois de 
 Sales's Introduction to a Pious Life, and then fell 
 tranquilly asleep. During the next five or six 
 days he was distinctly better, so he began to dictate 
 the corrections of his tragedy of Irene, and had 
 the plan of another drama sketched out, to which 
 he gave the name of Agathocle. He often in- 
 terrupted his work to occupy himself with the most 
 petty detailsof his daily life, and all the memoirs 
 of the time relate the story of the coverlid, which 
 I never heard till later. He wished to give his 
 sick-nurse a blanket as a present, but he would 
 not give more than fifteen livres for it, and the 
 shopkeeper would not let him have it under 
 seventeen livres. Madame Denys was inclined 
 to make the sacrifice of the two extra livres for 
 the sake of peace, but her uncle turned upon her 
 with such harshness that she burst into tears. 
 He threatened to disinherit her to teach her true 
 economy. He called the tradesman a scoundrel, a 
 cheat, and a thief, and the latter departed with his 
 bundle of blankets, loading him with imprecations. 
 
224 MADAME VESTRIS chap, xi 
 
 }Ie had been already backwards and forwards 
 between the Rue Mouffetard and the Quay des 
 Th^atins five or six times since eight o'cloclc that 
 morning, and all this discussion had been about 
 a paltry forty sous. 
 
 Madame Vestris at last learned the role of Irene 
 to his satisfaction, and though she was a very 
 poor actress, every one declared she would be 
 incomparable in the part. The tragedy was not 
 much better than the actress, and the public received 
 it coldly ; but as it was not hissed, owing to the 
 kindliness of a French audience, their regard for 
 the occupants of the stalls, and for the age and 
 illness of the author, his friends were able to 
 persuade Voltaire that his piece was a success, 
 and assured him, in the language of the green-room, 
 that it had been lauded to the skies. They added 
 that all his allusions to the priests had been seized 
 upon and applauded with great enthusiasm. So 
 he determined to appear himself at the next 
 performance. 
 
 Madame de Villette wrote to the Mardchal de 
 Beauvau, asking him to lend his box to M. de 
 Voltaire. As this box belonged to the gendemen- 
 in-waiting and the captains of the body-guard, 
 M. de Beauvau thought it best to enquire 
 whether their Majesties would approve of his 
 doing so. 
 
 " The proposal is ridiculous," said the king, 
 " but do as you like. Let us leave the actors and 
 machinists to adjust their philosophical decorations. 
 
A DEPUTATION 225 
 
 When we leave the Academie, we will look in at 
 the Comedie Fran9aise." 
 
 M. d'Alembert had organised a deputation on a 
 previous occasion to compliment the patriarch on 
 his Encyclopedia. He was not above driving in 
 a grand equipage, and had borrowed that of M. de 
 Beauvau for the occasion. Voltaire replied to them 
 in a poetical manner, discussed the Muses, and 
 said that Apollo, leader of the Muses, might be 
 considered as the real god of medicine, seeing 
 that Esculapius was his son. He said he would 
 return their visit, and added that he had ordered 
 a magnificent carriage, in which he would drive to 
 pay his homage to the Academie. His language 
 all through the interview was so flowery that 
 d'Alembert looked embarrassed. Of course it was 
 said that all this politeness was ironical, and that 
 Voltaire said these things out of sheer malice to 
 revenge himself on M. d'Alembert, who had annoyed 
 him in the matter of his confession. Anyway, it 
 was an original kind of vengeance. However, his 
 followers preferred to depict him as a murderer 
 or an incendiary, rather than allow that he was 
 off his head. 
 
 The vehicle in question was a very fine coach, 
 painted blue inside, with golden stars all over it. 
 It had been built under the directions of M. de 
 Villette, who never would have any painting done 
 except in water-colours, and chose ceilings of 
 canvas and sides of cardboard. The brilliant 
 stars were simply made of gold paper cut out, and 
 
 15 
 
226 THE ACADl^MIE [chap, xi 
 
 stuck on with paste, and the heat of the sun, having 
 caused them to swell, the planets fell off one by 
 one from this blue leather celestial firmament. 
 None of the prelates or ecclesiastical Academicians 
 would be present, and it was noticed that the Abbe 
 de Boismont, who had not been informed what 
 was going to take place, left the hall very quietly 
 as Voltaire entered it. 
 
 The latter was dressed in an old doublet of 
 blue velvet braided with gold, a Louis XIV. 
 wig of chestnut hair without powder, which over- 
 shadowed his face to such an extent that only 
 two blazing eyes could be seen, like those of a 
 wild cat. 
 
 His portrait had been placed above his chair. 
 This time he was careful not to revenge himself 
 on M. d'Alembert, at the expense of his own 
 reputation for learning. He was brilliant in the 
 extreme. I think it was that day that he recom- 
 mended the word " tragedian " to the notice of 
 the Academicians who were occupied with the 
 new dictionary. When Voltaire appeared at the 
 Com^die FranQaise he found himself in the place of 
 honour in the box of the gentlemen-in-waiting and 
 captains of the body-guard, and facing the Comte 
 d'Artois. The pit had decreed that M. de Voltaire 
 should not sit behind Madame Denys and Madame 
 de Villette, in which I think they were quite right. 
 After they had cried themselves hoarse with 
 "Bravos" and "Vivas," a loud voice was heard 
 to exclaim, " The crown ! — the crown ! " and the 
 
COMEDIE FRANQAISE 227 
 
 comedian Brizard was seen to enter the box with 
 a wreath in his hand. He tried to place it on 
 the old poet's head ; the latter modestly objected, 
 and struggled to get hold of it, with the intention 
 of offering it as a homage to Madame de Villette. 
 And it was a laurel wreath, if you please ! ! The 
 pit was scandalised, and there was such an uproar, 
 as if the end of the world was at hand. 
 
 When they had finished stamping, bellowing, and 
 storming, M. de Craon came to Voltaire and said, 
 "Ah! monsieur, do let us have our own way. 
 Be kind enough to allow yourself to be crowned," 
 and without more ceremony put the wreath on his 
 head. The effect of this Olympic crown on the 
 huge wig, with the shrivelled, tiny face, was 
 ludicrous. 
 
 The tragedy was aeither listened to attentively 
 nor applauded, but between the acts the episode 
 of the laurel wreath gave them a fine intermezzo, 
 and after the second act the curtain was drawn 
 up again, and all the actors, actresses, and working 
 staff of the theatre were discovered with palms 
 in their hands, and holding bouquets and garlands 
 of coloured paper, grouped round the bust of M. 
 de Voltaire, which was decorated with golden stars 
 and perched on a column. The trumpets sounded, 
 his verses were declaimed, and that corpulent old 
 actress Madame Vestris, who lisped with a Rouen 
 accent, and who, having just played the part of 
 Irene, was dressed as a Chinese, began to repeat 
 a piece of poetry, composed for the occasion, 
 
228 REPRESENTATION OF IRENE [cHAr. xi 
 
 with an extravagance. in keeping with the rest of 
 the scene. 
 
 M. de Villette had procured the services of 
 some five or six rough lads, with the intention 
 of using them to replace the horses, when it was 
 time to take the starry coach home. It would 
 look grand, to be triumphantly dragged through 
 the streets by torch-light. But the good man's cal- 
 culations were at fault, for after the traces had been 
 cut, the people would not volunteer to draw this 
 burlesque equipage, and they had to cobble them 
 together as best they could. 
 
 M. de Voltaire found himself obliged to wait 
 till his harness was mended. It was bitterly cold. 
 
 " If I could have supposed," he said impatiently, 
 " that they would have done anything half so 
 foolish, I would not have consented to come here 
 at all." 
 
 All the same, had sufficient admirers been found 
 to drag his carriage home, he would have been 
 transported with joy. 
 
 The crowning and the apotheosis of Voltaire 
 were indeed an illustration of the triumphs and 
 joys of this world, 
 
 " I think you might come and congratulate 
 me," he wrote at this time. " Are you aware 
 that, though the queen was at the opera the day 
 of the representation of Irene, she did not 
 deign to come to the Comddie Fran9aise ? Do 
 you know that when the piece was played at 
 Versailles, every one pretended to be bored, and 
 
VOLTAIRE'S LAST VISITS 229 
 
 because the queen yawned (simply for the reason 
 that she had indigestion), the courtiers all yawned 
 too, enough to dislocate their jaws ? I need not 
 tell you, either, that that monster and former 
 Jesuit, Father Beauregard, preached before the 
 royal family, and discoursed on the glory which 
 had been showered on ' the audacious chief of an 
 impious sect, who was the destroyer of religion 
 and of the morals of the people.' Those were the 
 very words he used, and the king showed no signs 
 of disapproval of this diatribe. I must," he con- 
 tinued, " give up all hope of being favourably 
 and honourably received by his Majesty. You 
 speak of the enthusiasm of the public. Let me 
 tell you the public are not worth more than the 
 courtiers." 
 
 Voltaire had by no means been cured of the 
 haemorrhage of the lungs, and all the nourishment 
 he took was a soup made of beans ; but he ap- 
 parently was so reassured about his health that 
 in one single day he went to a Masonic meeting 
 at the Lodge of the Nine Sisters, where the 
 degree of Rouge-Croix was bestowed upon him by 
 the Due d'Orl^ans, and afterwards he went to the 
 house of Madame de Montesson, where her play of 
 L'Amant Romanesque was being performed, and 
 ended with a supper at Madame de Luxembourg's, 
 where I did not feel inclined to go and meet him. 
 He wa« very amiable to your father on that occasion, 
 and assured him he would come and call on me 
 the very next day. 
 
230 VIOLENT ILLNESS [chap, xi 
 
 But that was the last time Voltaire ever went 
 abroad. He was taken ill in the night with violent 
 fever and haemorrhage. I sent to enquire for him, 
 in return for his civilities, and the answer at the 
 door was that M. de Voltaire was going on as 
 well as possible, but that no one was allowed in. 
 In the neighbourhood it was rumoured that he 
 was already dead, but that statement, as you will 
 see, was premature. 
 
 The archbishop had sent one of his clergy to 
 visit the sick man, but M. de Villette stopped him 
 on the threshold, declaring that Voltaire was too 
 ill to write or speak. The philosophers were all 
 in a state of deep anxiety, and, to gain time, they 
 thought to embarrass the clergy of the parish by 
 engaging them in a correspondence with Voltaire. 
 As a fact, he was lucid enough to write to the 
 Cure that very evening the following letter, the 
 style of which proves clearly that he was in truth 
 the author of it : 
 
 " Monsieur, — 
 
 "M. le Marquis de Villette thought he 
 was justified in assuring me that if I had taken 
 the liberty of addressing myself direct to you, 
 you would have had the goodness to leave all 
 your important avocations to come and hear my 
 confession, though it would have been fulfilling 
 a somewhat subordinate function, seeing that I 
 am only a stranger in your district. The Abb6 
 Gauthier did me the honour to write to me 
 
HIS LETTER TO THE CURE 231 
 
 directly he heard of my illness, and as I live 
 in your parish, I concluded you had sent him 
 to me. I consider you. Monsieur, to be one of 
 the first personages of the State. I know that, 
 in the spirit of an Apostle, you minister to and 
 succour the poor; and with the talent of an able 
 administrator you procure work and assistance for 
 them. The more I respect your person and your 
 ministry, the more I fear to take advantage of 
 your great kindness. 
 
 " I have tried to consider only what I owe to 
 your birth and rank and merit. You are a general 
 to whom I have applied, as a soldier would for a 
 safeguard. 
 
 " I beg of you to forgive me, if I have treated 
 too lightly such an act of condescension as your 
 coming to see me would have been. Forgive 
 also the importunity of this letter. It needs no 
 answer ; your time is far too precious for me to dare 
 to hope for one. With a veneration mingled with 
 confidence and respect, I have the honour to be, 
 " Monsieur, 
 " Your very humble and obedient servant, 
 " Voltaire 
 " (Gentleman-in-ordinary to the King). 
 " Thursday \/^k — ten hours after mid-day!' 
 
 The Cure of Saint-Sulpice replied with suitable 
 gravity, in a style which could neither be accused 
 of ignorance of the world nor of excess of severity. 
 He only kept the Marquis de Villette's servant 
 
232 CURE DE SAINT-SULPICE [chap, xi 
 
 waiting for a quarter of an hour, and then sent the 
 following reply : 
 
 " All my parishioners, Monsieur, have equal rights 
 to my pastoral care. It is necessity only which 
 obliges me to share my work with my colleagues ; 
 but such a man as M. de Voltaire naturally deserves 
 special attention. His celebrity, which has caused 
 the eyes of this capital and this kingdom to be 
 fixed upon him, has also drawn upon him the gaze 
 of all Europe, and he is well worthy of the earnest 
 ministrations of a Cur^. 
 
 " What you have already done, Monsieur, is at 
 least useful and consoling in the danger that 
 menaced you, and which still menaces you, in your 
 present serious state. The object of my office is 
 to work for the happiness of man, by turning to his 
 profit the many miseries inseparable from his con- 
 dition, and by diffusing by the light of faith and 
 science the darkness that obscures his reason. 
 Who, therefore, would withhold such pious exer- 
 cises from erring fellow-creatures in the narrow 
 span of this miserable life ? 
 
 " You may therefore judge with what eagerness I 
 offer my services to the most renowned writer of the 
 period, and one whose good example will surely be 
 imitated by millions. 
 
 " Monsieur, the circumstances in which you are 
 now placed are of infinite value for the edification 
 of others— important for the principles of the 
 Christian faith, without which society would be but 
 
REPLYS TO VOLTAIRE 233 
 
 an aggregate of fools and wicked men. I know 
 that you are of a benevolent nature. If you will 
 allow me to visit you, I hope to convince you that 
 in sincerely adopting the sublime philosophy of the 
 Evangelists, you might do an enormous amount of 
 good. You could add to the glory you have already 
 attained by increasing human knowledge, that of 
 having edified the entire world. Divine wisdom 
 clothed in our flesh was granted to us as an 
 absolute model of perfection, and you will find it 
 nowhere else, save in the person of our Saviour 
 Jesus Christ. 
 
 " You have overwhelmed me with kind expres- 
 sions that I do not deserve. It js more than I am 
 equal to, to reply to you in similar terms. I cannot 
 compete with the learned and literary men who pay 
 you the tribute of their admiration. The part I 
 have to play towards you, Monsieur, is far more 
 modest, more simple, and more useful. I offer you 
 once more any help in my power, and all good 
 wishes for your true happiness, 
 
 " I have the honour to be, etc., 
 
 "J. DE Tersac 
 " (CuRi; OF THIS Parish). 
 
 "Thursday i^th, half-fast eleven in the evening.'' 
 
 M. de Villette took the liberty of intercepting this 
 correspondence, and replied to M. de Tersac in the 
 name of Voltaire, The Cure therefore answered, 
 that if these two chose to turn his words into 
 profane mystifications, he would refuse to continue 
 
234 LAST SACRAMENTS REFUSED [chap, xi 
 
 the correspondence, and would refer the matter to 
 his ecclesiastical superiors. 
 
 This answer alarmed the philosophical party, and 
 they did not dare to compromise themselves openly 
 with the Archbishop of Paris, or with such a 
 prelate as M. de Beaumont, and Madame Denys 
 hastened to write to the Cur6 of Saint-Sulpice. 
 She assured him that her uncle was not in a 
 condition to frame two consecutive phrases, but 
 she added that he had retained his lucid under- 
 standing, and desired nothing better than to enter 
 into a controversy with M. de Tersac, and that 
 she would not fail to send to let him know as soon 
 as the state of the invalid would allow of his 
 speaking without risk. 
 
 Yet another pastoral letter was sent by M. de 
 Tersac, so he told me. He wrote, not to Madame 
 Denys, but to Voltaire, telling him that, should 
 he grant him an interview, there would be no 
 occasion for him to speak, but rather to listen, and 
 a sign of the head in the affirmative would be 
 sufficient. This letter was never seen by Voltaire 
 — it was hidden away ; and when they did send for 
 M. de Tersac, he was in the last extremity. The 
 Cure refused, under these circumstances, to administer 
 the last rites of the Church, but he knelt in the 
 middle of the sick-chamber and prayed in a low 
 voice during seven or eight minutes. Then he 
 got up and walked away, without addressing a 
 word to any one in the house. 
 
 All that we could learn about Voltaire's last 
 
VOLTAIRE'S DEATH 235 
 
 moments was that he passed two days and two 
 nights raging and storming.^ The only witnesses 
 were the philosophers, but his cries could be heard 
 in the porter's lodge of the Hotel de Nesle. The 
 sisters of the " Tiers-Ordre,'' who laid out the 
 body, were afraid to touch it, so savage and horrible 
 was the countenance. This, as they told my 
 people, was most unusual after death. 
 
 When it had been decided that the corpse should 
 be conveyed to Sellieres in a post-chaise, seated 
 beside M. de Mignot and suspended by cords 
 placed under the arms, the sisters were again 
 applied to, to take him out of his shroud and dress 
 him in the ordinary clothes of a traveller. This 
 they absolutely refused to do, as it would be 
 masquerading with a dead body. Twenty-five louis 
 were offered to them, but they declined all bribes. 
 
 He was finally buried clandestinely in a village 
 forty miles from Paris. ^ The Bishop of Troyes 
 lodged a complaint against the officiating priest, 
 who, however, had been deceived by a sort of 
 permission falsely attributed to M. de Tersac. 
 Voltaire's plays were forbidden to be acted, and 
 all the journalists were warned against writing 
 any notices of his death, or inserting any panegyrics 
 upon his numerous works. 
 
 ' The great Dr. Tronchin was at this death-bed, and says : " I saw 
 Voltaire sicken and die, and marked the difference between the serenity 
 of a dying sage and the frightful torment of him to whom death is the 
 King of Terrors." 
 
 'During the Revolution Voltaire's remains were taken, with great 
 pomp, and interred in the Church of Sainte-Genevifeve, to which the 
 National Assembly had given the name of the Panth6on. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 Jean-Jacques Rousseau at Ermenonville — His Letter to Madame de 
 Crtquy — Her Reply — Marquis de Girardin — Rousseau's Death — 
 His Tomb — M. Turgot — Sage and his System of Resurrection — 
 Doctor Dufour — Mesmer and Mesmerism — The Somnambulist — 
 Nightmare of the Duchess of Devonshire — Fashions for Men, for 
 Women — New Style of Furniture — Hair-dressing — Coiffure of the 
 Duchesse de Luynes — The " Simple and Natural " a la Mode — 
 Treatment of Infanta — Children improperly Fed — Visit from the 
 Children of Princesse de Montbany. 
 
 WHILE Voltaire was still experiencing in- 
 ternal agitations and triumphal joys, we 
 learned that our poor Jean-Jacques had taken refuge 
 with M. de Girardin, the proprietor of d'Ermenon- 
 ville, in Picardy. Wherever he was, Rousseau found 
 himself unable to fight against his own growing 
 discontent. He mistrusted every one, and in the 
 black outlook from which he surveyed the world 
 he dreamt ever of perfidy, hostility, and betrayal. 
 He had become so unreasonable that he was firmly 
 convinced that the king Louis XV., and the Due 
 de Choiseul, in taking possession of the Island of 
 Corsica, had been actuated solely by enmity towards 
 himself, and all this at the instigation of Voltaire. 
 At first I thought he must be joking, but he spoke 
 of it with the greatest seriousness, and I had not 
 the heart to laugh at him. 
 
 336 
 
ROUSSEAU'S LETTER 237 
 
 He could not stand living at Montmorency with 
 the Marechale de Luxembourg, so he moved to a 
 very comfortable little house which the d'Epinays 
 had prepared for him, his library, and his Thdrese. 
 When he first wrote from this place, which he called 
 his " Ermitage," his descriptions were enchanting ; 
 but he was never contented for long, as the follow- 
 ing letter to me will show : 
 
 " Madame, 
 
 "No one, not even those reduced to my 
 level, have any idea of what my present situation 
 is. I feel constrained to acquaint you with the 
 miserable details of my life. I intend publishing 
 them in the French and foreign journals. My 
 wife has been ill a long time, and is quite 
 incapable of looking after our modest household ; 
 indeed, she is in need of the services of others, as 
 she is often obliged to keep her bed. Up till now 
 I have nursed her through all her illnesses ; but 
 old age and the weakness that accompanies it 
 will no longer allow me to render her the same 
 assistance, and the housekeeping even of a poor 
 man cannot do itself. It is necessary for some one 
 to go and buy things, then they must be prepared, 
 and the house must be cleaned. As I am quite 
 unequal to do these things, I have been forced to 
 let my wife engage a servant. Eighteen months 
 of these experiences have convinced me that in our 
 position this is a serious inconvenience. Reduced 
 to living quite alone, and yet unfit to do without 
 
238 MADAME DE CREQUY'S [chap, xn 
 
 the help of others, there remains but one course 
 open in this our time of loneliness and infirmities, 
 and that is to try and find some shelter where we 
 could live at our own expense, but exempted from 
 work which is beyond our strength, and the details 
 of which we are incapable of managing. For 
 myself I am indifferent. Whether I am at liberty or 
 enclosed between four walls, whether I am in a 
 mad-house or a poor-house, in a desert or with 
 amiable or brutal companions as the case may be, I 
 consent to anything as long as my wife receives the 
 care that is necessary for her, and as long as we get 
 food and clothing of the simplest and most sober 
 kind, provided I am not obliged to trouble myself 
 about them. For this we will give the little fortune 
 we have, which would be, I think, sufficient in the 
 country, where provisions are cheap, or in some 
 big establishment built for the purpose and where 
 economy is understood and practised. We will 
 submit cheerfully to all the privations which are 
 now inevitable for us." 
 
 " Rousseau, my friend," I replied, " your anxiety 
 is natural, but rather imaginary. Your wife is not 
 so ill but that she can go daily from the ' Ermitage' 
 to Montmorency on foot, and sometimes as far as 
 Sarcelles, to gain an appetite, as she tells people. 
 If you publish such a letter as the one I have re- 
 ceived, just think of the remarks that will be made 
 on the puerility of your composition. The cynical 
 pretension and the vain querulousness of it will 
 
REPLY AND INVITATION 239 
 
 be plainly perceived. Your enemies will say that 
 you had not the wit to find a good servant, or that 
 you are too bad a master to be able to keep onow 
 What has become of the sister of my milk- 
 woman at Jossigny ? — she was the best and most 
 honest girl in the world. Perhaps you will say 
 twenty crowns a year for wages is ruinous to you, 
 or that the girl is paid to betray you ; I know what 
 you are likely to say. But betray what ? Paid by 
 whom ? For God's sake don't go and puzzle us, 
 by having to answer two such questions as these ! 
 It is giving yourself away to those who spy 
 on you, and whose enmity you are perpetually 
 inciting. I implore you, my dear friend, to pub- 
 lish nothing that is so unreasonable, and I again 
 beg of you, dear Rousseau, to go and live at 
 Jossigny, where you will be lord and master. I 
 again repeat that you will find excellent wine in 
 the cellar, sweets of all kinds in the pantry, lovely 
 flowers and good vegetables in the garden, fruit in 
 the orchard, birds in the aviary, and poultry in the 
 farmyard. There is plenty of silver plate, wax 
 candles, glass, and linen, a provision of ice, and 
 wood for firing, and every kind of stores, including 
 tallow candles. You would have nothing to take 
 there, but your clothes and books. I will go the 
 first fine day to get your answer, but I earnestly 
 beg you to decide on going to live at Jossigny." ^ 
 Rousseau did not reply to this when he returned 
 
 ' This little chateau had been left to the Marquise de Cr6quy by her 
 grandmother. 
 
340 ROUSSEAU'S DEATH [chap, xn 
 
 to Paris. I was absent, and before I could go and 
 see him I was told he had gone to Ermenonville, 
 where the Girardins had placed at his disposal a 
 wing of their country house. Here he complained 
 that he had not enough space, that his room was 
 damp, and that the noise of the poultry-yard 
 disturbed him. 
 
 As I was coming away from Mass at the 
 "Jacobins," I heard of his death quite accidentally 
 from Madame de Tingry, who told me the news 
 very abruptly. I begged her to let me go back 
 into the church, that I might at least pray to 
 Almighty God for the poor philosopher, and tears 
 rolled down my cheeks, under cover of my hood. 
 He died July 2nd, 1778, about six weeks after 
 Voltaire, from an attack of apoplexy, which came 
 on at II in the morning, after he came in from 
 his walk. He was born at Geneva, June 28th, 
 1 71 2. His father was a watchmaker. He has left 
 behind him Memoirs, which, I think, for the sake 
 of his memory and fame, ought to be much cur- 
 tailed. Latterly he became so odd and whimsical 
 that it is by no means clear to me that what he 
 said about himself was strictly true. There was 
 an ugly story of him in his youth, of which he 
 gave several versions, and I do not know which 
 of them he fixed on in the end. He used to read 
 paragraphs aloud to me, and several times I caught 
 him in evident falsehood. He would redden 
 shamefacedly, and reply that he feared to appear 
 better than he really was, and that he did not 
 
ROUSSEAU'S TOMB 241 
 
 like to be too partial towards himself. " If," said 
 I, "it is criminal and disgraceful to calumniate 
 others, it is not reasonable, to say the least of it, 
 to calumniate yourself. When writing your own 
 biography, you expose yourself to scandal and pose 
 as a bad example. For instance, how could you 
 have written such a passage as this one ? . . ." 
 Then he would begin to argue, and I would become 
 annoyed. I know for a positive fact that there 
 are two copies of the Confessions of Rousseau, 
 and they are not alike, and one of these manuscripts 
 contains revelations which would be very damag- 
 ing to the sect of philosophers, and I do not 
 doubt that the chiefs of the party took the pre- 
 caution of keeping it from the public. M. de 
 Girardin did not let any priest attend the unhappy 
 Jean Jacques, yet God knows he would have found 
 Rousseau by no means hostile to religion. I can 
 assure you that he had gone very humbly, if not 
 to confess to, at least to hold religious converse 
 with M. de Ian, the new Curd of Saint- Sulpice, 
 seven or eight days before leaving Paris. 
 
 He is buried like a dog, on an islet in the 
 middle of a frog-pond, in a tomb about three feet 
 high. M. de Girardin has just caused to be en- 
 graved on it the most concise of his many com- 
 positions : " Here lies the man of nature and 
 truth." It is his chef-d'oeuvre of lapidarian inscrip- 
 tions. " If, however, he was so enthusiastic for 
 nature and truth," remarked my son, "how is it 
 that he calls himself the Marquis de Girardin ? " 
 
 16 
 
242 M. TURCOT [CHAP, xii 
 
 1 have not yet told you anything about the 
 Economists, whom you must not confound with the 
 Encyclopaedists. I always intended writing about 
 M . Turgot, who w^is a real friend to your father 
 and myself.' He was a distant relation on the 
 side of the d'Esclots (which, as you know, is not 
 my favourite branch of the family), but he never 
 took advantage of this. I always sent him any 
 notes by hand ; wore the same mournings as his 
 family did, and I remember I wrote to him on 
 the occasion of my son's marriage to ask his 
 consent. He used to come at once on arriving 
 in Paris to pay us a visit, and when he was at his 
 own place in Limoges, he would answer our letters 
 by return of post. But all his communications were 
 simply respectful and affectionate. He always 
 appeared to ignore the fact that we were relations, 
 and when your father said anything about cousin- 
 ship, he would incline his head and say coldly, it 
 would be too much honour for him ! His family 
 was a very ancient and noble one in Lower 
 Normandy. One might have thought that he acted 
 in this manner towards us from modesty, but I 
 have always believed it was excess of pride. 
 
 The next two years were marked by two grreat 
 victories and by a great disaster, which did not, 
 however, detract from the honour of the French 
 navy. The Comte d'Estaing conquered Grenada 
 
 ' The celebrated economist. Louis XVI. once said, "Among all 
 those who really interest themselves with public affairs, I only know 
 two — M. Turgot and myself— who really love the people of France." 
 
NAVAL DISASTER 243 
 
 and destroyed the squadron of Admiral Byron. 
 The intrepid Lamothe-Piquet faced the whole 
 English fleet with three shattered vessels, and 
 saved the rich convoy coming to us from St. 
 Domingo, But January 21st was a daLy of ill-omen. 
 The Comte de Grasse was defeated in a naval 
 combat by the English Admiral Rodney.^ Modern 
 history does not offer us any example of higher 
 spirit. Comte de Grasse did not strike his flag 
 till after ten hours of conflict, and after having 
 vainly sought death. There were only four men 
 still living on his ship, while the rest of the French 
 captains sold their lives dearly on board the 
 flagship. Our enemies admired his valour, but 
 his countrymen did not do him the same justice. 
 
 To repair this awful disaster, as well as the loss 
 of six vessels which were captured by the English, 
 the Comte de Provence and the Comte d'Artois, 
 brothers of the king, each offered him a ship of 
 ten guns, and the Prince de Conde, in his capacity 
 of Governor of Bourgogne, made a similar proposal. 
 The Due de Penthievre, on the other hand, ordered 
 two frigates to be built, but without saying anything 
 about it to anybody, 
 
 ' The Marquise's historical accuracy is here somewhat at fault. The 
 famous action between d'Estaing and Byron off Grenada, which took 
 place on July 6th, 1779, was certainly not a victory as she supposed. 
 Captain Mahon writes of it : " His superiority in numbers over the 
 English, was nearly as great as that of deGrasse. . . Another 
 cause than incapacity as a seaman has usually been assigned by 
 French historians for the impotent action of d'Estaing on this 
 occasion." — Influence of Sea Power, 371-373. 
 
 Rodney's victory over de Grasse was not on January 21st, but on 
 the "famous twelfth of April," 1782. 
 
344 SAGE AND DUFOUR [chap, xti 
 
 Every sort of extravagant folly took possession 
 of people in these troubled days. Among others 
 was a certain mineralogist named Sage, who 
 pretended he had power to resuscitate the dead 
 with volatile alkali, and who also announced his 
 ability to make bars of ^old out of clay. The 
 Academic des Sciences voted a post with a salary 
 of 2,000 livres a year to M. Sage at the Hotel des 
 Monnaies. The system of resurrection invented by 
 Sage was replaced by one of M. Dufour, a military 
 surgeon, and his theory was that nobody need 
 die, so that resurrection was unnecessary, if his 
 advice was attended to. As soon as any one 
 fell ill, all that had to be done was to rub the 
 patient's legs with nettles, lay him on a bed, and 
 give the sick person enough Martinique absinthe 
 to make him drunk. He would naturally fall into 
 a profound slumber, and wake up cured — at least, 
 so said the quack. 
 
 A son of the Baron d'Aroncey, whom M. Dufour 
 had made drunk with the absinthe, slept so well 
 that he never woke up again. The only answer 
 given to the complaints of the parents was that the 
 exception proves the rule ! and the cross of Saint- 
 Michel was given to Dufour at the solicitations of 
 M. Necker and M. de Monthion. 
 
 In the middle of all this excitement there arose a 
 man who imposed upon every one by his air of 
 proud security and his power of profound meditation. 
 He was a stranger, a scholar, and was besides 
 young and handsome, which did not come amiss. 
 
DR. MESMER 245 
 
 This man declared that he possessed a secret 
 which controlled all animal bodies, had the power 
 of remedying all the defects of their organism, and 
 that could heal all physical suffering and all the 
 ills of human nature. It was a universal principle, 
 occult and unique, and needing no other motor 
 save force of will. 
 
 Doctor Mesmer lodged in the Place Venddme. 
 In the middle of his consulting-hall was a large 
 bucket filled with the bottoms of bottles, and 
 covered with a green cloth. From this protruded 
 long switches of metal with spigots and swivels. 
 All these metallic branches were bent in a semi- 
 circle, which gave the bucket the appearance of 
 an enormous spider. The Mesmerists were ranged 
 side by side, each holding the end of his own 
 switch against his chest, the pit of his stomach, 
 his loins, eyes, ears, throat, etc. All the patients 
 were in different attitudes, some trembling and 
 covered with sweat, others in frightful convulsions. 
 Some of them were laughing aloud, others were 
 yawning and crying, while all the time Doctor 
 Mesmer sat in a corner of the hall, playing the 
 harmonica (or musical glasses). From time to 
 time he came forward and placed his fingers on 
 the foreheads of those who seemed in need of 
 assistance. 
 
 This was the method of Mesmer, and the following 
 is the doctrine of. it. The etheric fluid which he 
 had at his command could be augmented by the 
 will of man and reflected in mirrors by the light 
 
246 DOCTRINE OF MESMER [chap, xh 
 
 (I think he must have meant concentrated and 
 absorbed), and this same fluid could be communi- 
 cated, propagated, and applied by sound. It was 
 transportable and susceptible of accumulation. He 
 added that ;ill organisms are analogous to magnets, 
 and have their poles of attraction and antipathy, 
 and the phenomena of these inclinations can be 
 regularly observed. 
 
 The learned faculty declared all this to be non- 
 sense, but this did not disconcert M. Mesmer. He 
 applied, through M. de Maurepas, to the French 
 (Government, not that they should declare the 
 existence and efficacy of mesmerism, which would 
 be a senseless proceeding, as the thing had been 
 proved beyond all doubt, but all he asked was that 
 the declarations made by those who were cured 
 iniLjht be rcgistentd, and that in consideration of the 
 beni-fits with which he was loading mankind, he 
 should receive as remuneration the property of 
 Surgy, which belonged to the Crown. He further 
 declared that if they stooped to bargain with a man 
 of his importance, he would simply abandon his 
 p.iticnts and leave Paris. 
 
 My cousin de Breteuil was much attracted by 
 the theory of animal magnetism and took Mesmer's 
 part, so eagerly that — would you believe it ? — the 
 Government proposed to grant him 20,000 livres 
 annually; a salary of 12,000; apartments in the 
 Louvre ; the cordon of St. Michel, and the title 
 of Consulting Physician to the King ! How could 
 any monarchy exist when such extravagances were 
 
DR. DESLON 247 
 
 perpetrated ? Happily Mesmer took offence at 
 the manner in which the proposal was made, and 
 walked off in a huff to Aix-la-Chapelle, taking a 
 crowd of his sick folk with him. They were 
 among the most docile and devoted of his patients, 
 but it was speedily remarked that they were not 
 among the poorest of them ! The infatuation 
 for magnetism was one of the first aberrations 
 among these ill-balanced minds, and nearly all the 
 principal revolutionists were ardent mesmerists. 
 
 Another great doctor next arose who came from 
 Alsace. He healed every disease by the laying on 
 of hands. All the grooms and kitchen -boys and 
 lackeys flocked to him. The ante-chambers of the 
 great were left empty. The maitres-d'hdtel were 
 in despair. He asked no fees, but it was understood 
 that those persons who could afford it gave some- 
 thing as they went out to a fat serving-girl who 
 stood at the door. 
 
 You may be sure the authorities of Paris dis- 
 approved highly of an individual who influenced 
 the servants and upset the kitchens ; but fearing 
 the populace, they had to resort to artifice, and, 
 lying in ambush, they succeeded in capturing the 
 doctor, who was then hustled across the frontier. 
 
 The second prophet of mesmerism was Doctor 
 Deslon. He discarded the harmonica at his seances, 
 for the simple reason he could not play, but he 
 added somnambulism to mesmerism with considerable 
 profit. His somnambulist was a peasant woman 
 from Chilons. I consulted her out of curiosity. 
 
248 THE SOMNAMBULIST [chap, xh 
 
 She prescribed for your mother, who was ill, and 
 gave her an admirable potion, which was a medical 
 combination that even her three doctors had to 
 admit was marvellous. One of the ingredients was 
 hazel Icavos, and they could not understand for 
 what iHirposi- this was used. Whenever the hazel 
 leaves were (on purpose) left out of the mixture, the 
 invalid at once became decidedly less well. 
 
 Then 1 consulted her for myself. She placed one 
 of my hands on her stomach, closed her eyes with 
 an air i>f satisfaction, and in five minutes said, 
 smiling, "Did any one ever see such a thing! 
 Well, you have a good constitution. You will 
 live a hundred years. Drink rather more liquid, 
 and don't overheat yourself, and you will never 
 be ill." 
 
 She was just a common, ignorant woman of about 
 thirty who could not read or write — the most simple 
 creature possible, and when in her natural state 
 was too stupid to give any information on any 
 subject. Nowadays they have done away with 
 the bucket, the switches, and the harmonica, but 
 magnetisers attribute the action of magnetism to the 
 [jiwer of the will. 
 
 No doubt Mesmer was a charlatan, and all his 
 switches, buckets, etc., were pure charlatanism ; 
 but I do not doubt that there is a phenomenon 
 called magnetism, and Mesmer discovered its 
 existence, and I do not deny that with certain 
 individuals, in certain cases, it may have a very 
 salutary effect. The greater number of human 
 
NIGHTMARES 249 
 
 beings are not susceptible to magnetism. All are 
 not organised in such a way as to feel the influence 
 of it, neither can they all enter into a state of 
 somnambulism, and doubtless those who make 
 these sciences a profession do not by any means 
 always act in good faith. 
 
 Have you ever heard about nightmares ? There 
 was a famous story going the rounds about the 
 Duchess of Devonshire. For two or three years 
 she had suffered from the same nightmare. It was 
 the apparition of a horrible monkey, who every 
 night used to come out of the earth, and who 
 dragged her out of her bed as soon as she closed 
 her eyes. Before letting go her right arm, for he 
 always seized her by it, he used to push a cushion 
 under the small of her back, and then sit down 
 on her chest, where he would remain perfectly 
 immovable, staring into her eyes till she woke. 
 
 This is how the unfortunate Englishwoman 
 passed her nights, and she had fallen into a 
 lamentable condition. None of her physicians 
 could cure her, and Tronchin himself went to 
 England to attend her, but without any favourable 
 results. 
 
 Persistent nightmares, said Cazotte,^ often came 
 from the abuse of magnetism, or the same power 
 badly administered, and unbelievers or materialists 
 could not cure such a malady. We did not see 
 Cazotte for some time, and then we heard that he 
 had just returned from London, and Madame de 
 
 ' Cazotte was a poet and an author. He perished on the scaffold. 
 
250 EXTRAVAGANT FASHIONS [chap, xit 
 
 Devonshire at the same time wrote to Paris to 
 say that she was completely cured. 
 
 The extravagances of the fashions were in 
 1»< rfect keeping with the follies of the age. I saw 
 some very outrageous ones in the days of the 
 Regency. As an antidote to the vapours, I have 
 seen worn on the forehead plasters made of an 
 anodyne ointment, encircled with diamonds or points 
 of steel cut in facets or garnets, according to taste, 
 but alsva)s made to look as if they were nailed to 
 the flesh ; I have seen gold powder used on the 
 hair, which only became the blondes, and made 
 the dark Wdincn look dreadful ; 1 have seen the shoe 
 he' is of such exaggerated height that the wearers 
 could only walk on their toes ; and finally, 1 have 
 seen pieces of furnitunj designed with backs and legs, 
 So twisted and contorted that they looked like sick 
 people writhing in pain. Then again, the woodwork 
 is distorted into a hundred shapes. Frames, table 
 utensils, jewels — everything is made in the same 
 grotesque st) Ic, without sense, and without taste. 
 Ornaments are covered with Chinese foliage, 
 twisted branches, broken shells, Cupids hid in roses, 
 and other such fantastic conceits. 
 
 In my day I have known plenty of habits and 
 fashions ridiculous enough, but never in such 
 numbers nor quite so unpleasant as at this period 
 that I am speaking of. The men wore what was 
 called a " frac," an English word which apparently 
 means a very narrow coat, cut away absurdly over 
 the hips which are not covered, and ending behind 
 
DRESS OF THE PERIOD 251 
 
 in two tails like a swallow. Sometimes it is made 
 of scarlet cloth, with huge buttons which are com- 
 posed of a circle of brass, framing a watch-glass, 
 under which repose scraps of moss, grasshoppers, 
 ladybirds, or small cantharides. With a red coat, 
 a muslin waistcoat, black silk breeches, and blue- 
 and-white stockings were generally worn. 
 
 The coiffure a la ddbdcle consisted of a small 
 queue without a bag, so that from seven to eight 
 ounces of powder were sprinkled down the back 
 of the coat. This toilette was completed by two 
 long watch-chains, to the ends of which were 
 suspended bunches of hollow tassels, trinkets, bells, 
 and baubles, and a suitable finish to this fine get-up 
 was a light walking-stick, such as valets use to beat 
 the clothes with ! 
 
 Young de Verac was persuaded that people had 
 always used these little canes, and when we asked 
 him what was the good of them, he answered they 
 were most useful for beating cats. 
 
 Young women were miserably dressed in narrow 
 skirts made of linen, chintz, or thin silk. They 
 wore fichus of starched muslin, which stuck up 
 stifflji right to their cheeks, and made such bulky 
 folds over the bosom, that they appeared to be of 
 enormous protuberance. Their hair was in thick 
 powdered curls, with a floating chignon often hang- 
 ing down to the waist, where it was confined by a 
 clasp of steel or tortoise-shell, five or six inches 
 long. 
 
 This fashion was also adopted by young parlia- 
 
-S' CHAIR BACKS [chap, xn 
 
 mentary counsellors, and such magistrates as were 
 t>bli_u;cd to \v(!ar their hair long and unbound, in 
 commemoration of the great wigs in three strands. 
 This, unfortunately, was the only obligation that 
 had come down to them from the time of 
 Louis XIV. 
 
 This absurd fashion of the floating powdered hair 
 (not forgetting the pomade used to fix it) rendered 
 it necessary to shorten the backs of the armchairs, 
 and it was then that they invented those horrid 
 little seats with circular backs, cut away, which you 
 sec in most drawing-rooms nowadays. Many 
 ladies began to put loose covers on the furniture, 
 which in our eyes seemed to be middle-class economy. 
 Others were content to put bands of silk on the 
 backs of the chairs, which went by the elegant and 
 noble name of " anti-grease," and these had to be 
 rtncwed several times a month, otherwise they 
 looked most slovenly. The Marquise de Laigle 
 refused to sit on the seats offered to visitors, and 
 the Duchesse de Fleury for still greater security 
 brought her own stool with her. 
 
 The headdress of young women had become 
 so exaggerated in size that it was found neces- 
 sary to remove the seats of the carriages, and 
 they sat on the floor on padded cushions about 
 the thickness of a sachet. To tell you all the 
 things these poor things put on top of their 
 powdered locks would be endless, and would take 
 too long. Anything and everything was used as 
 adornment. M. Leonard, the queen's hairdresser. 
 
HEADDRESSES 253 
 
 used to boast that he had once dressed the head 
 of the Duchesse de Luynes with one of her 
 own cambric chemises. That lady never looked in 
 the glass, so she took no notice what he was 
 doing. It was Madame Thibault, the queen's 
 tire-woman, who got her Majesty's permission 
 for the duchess to appear in this guise. The queen 
 granted it, providing the Mistress of the Robes 
 did not notice anything wrong, or at any rate was 
 willing to sanction the joke. So Madame de 
 Luynes arrived with the batiste chemise twisted 
 round her hair, quite unaware herself of the fact ! 
 
 The Court was in mourning, at the time, and 
 the white headdress had an enormous success, and 
 two days afterwards Madame de Laval arrived 
 with a damask napkin on her head in form of 
 a pouf, which met with equal admiration. ■ Ask 
 my niece Madame de Matignon if it is not true 
 that in 1785 she had her head dressed a la 
 jardiniere with a red check duster, into which 
 M. Leonard had artistically inserted a small 
 artichoke, a broccoli, a fine carrot, and some 
 radishes. 
 
 When Dondon Picot saw it she was so delighted 
 that she exclaimed, " I will never wear anything 
 but vegetables. It is so simple, and more natural 
 than flowers." ^ 
 
 What was natural and what was simple was 
 then the height of the fashion. Husbands and 
 
 ' Dondon Picot was the nickname given to the Comtesse de Lameth- 
 Picot, a rich Creole. 
 
254 THE "SIMPLE AND NATURAL" [chap, xn 
 
 wives kissed one another in public. Brothers and 
 sisters used the familiar second person when talking 
 together. Ladies no longer escorted their visitors 
 to the door of th<iir salons, nor did they rise to 
 greet them. One spoke of "women," not " ladies "; 
 of " the men at the Court," not the " seigneurs." 
 At supper parties great ladies and the wives of 
 parvenus were invited all together. People sat 
 at table where and how they listed. Everybody 
 helped himself and ate what he liked. In fact, 
 everything had become so simple and natural, 
 that Princesse Victor de Broglie burnt her fingers 
 very badly in trying with her nails to detach the 
 wing of a partridge which was steaming hot. 
 
 Your aunt Clermont-Tonnerre always turned 
 over the salad to mix the ingredients with her 
 fingers, and her adoring husband, her Stanislas 
 (Christian names being more natural and family 
 names more simple than titles) would kiss her, 
 exclaiming, " O joy of my heart! what a perfume 
 of herbs and pepper and estragon vinegar ! Your 
 pretty little hands are worthy of being devoured ! " 
 
 Another inconceivable folly of the time was the 
 manner of feeding children. To begin with, 
 mothers began to suckle their infants. Their milk 
 was scanty and bad : never mind, it did not matter; 
 it was a la Jean- Jacques I The children born at 
 that time had very weak constitutions and were not 
 capable of thriving on poor and insufficient nourish- 
 ment. Two-thirds of them died at the breast ; 
 and the rest survived, only to fade away eighteen 
 
REARING OP INFANTS 255 
 
 or twenty years after of consumption and other 
 hereditary diseases. 
 
 Mesdames de Rieux, d'Estaing, de Lusignan, and 
 de Gouffier, had all obstinately determined to nurse 
 their babies, declaring that a mother's care was 
 worth all the nourishment of the hireling. What 
 happened was that their heirs departed ad patres, 
 as might have been expected. The maternal 
 solicitude of these ladies was directed only towards 
 their sons, so the daughters remained to them, 
 and when M. de Gouffier used to meet Jean 
 Jacques Rousseau at the Hotel Crequy he would 
 say, " Thanks to you, you miserable theorist, my 
 house will soon be extinct." 
 
 " Madame," he would ask me afterwards, " what 
 is the house of Gouffier?" 
 
 " Read your History of France," I would retort, 
 " before writing treatises on the bringing-up of 
 children. Were I in the place of the Marquis de 
 Gouffier, I would strangle you ! " 
 
 Another folly, for which Jean Jacques was not 
 answerable, was that of preventing children- from 
 eating as much as their appetites craved for. This 
 nonsense was the outcome of the system adopted 
 by Mesdames de Blot, de Monaco, and de Vabelle, 
 who had resolved to live without eating. 
 
 The poor little creatures were therefore for- 
 bidden to have good soup and meat, for fear that 
 decaying elements might be introduced into their 
 bodies. No fruit was allowed for fear of worms, 
 no jam because of acidity. Their only drink was 
 
2S6 STARVING THE CHILDREN [chap, xn 
 
 toast and water, which was considered beneficial for 
 their insides, and I need not say no pastry was 
 given to them. They had panadas of gruel for 
 their principal meal. For breakfast and lunch they 
 had some scraps crumbled up in skim milk, just 
 what you would give to a canary. The Marquis 
 de Villeneuve used to say that his wife had a 
 parrot to whom she gave more food daily than to 
 her four children. As they were always starving, 
 they were always crying, and they grew untruthful 
 and thieving. The three Bethunes and the little 
 de Choiseuls had agreed together to scale I am 
 afraid to say how many walls in the night, to 
 make a raid on the pantry and store cupboard of 
 their grandmother the Duchesse de Sully. As to 
 the little girls, their condition was lamentable, and 
 as they had not the opportunity of stealing crusts 
 of bread, green fruit, and raw carrots, the most 
 determined among them used to steal the cat's 
 dinner. 
 
 The measles broke out at Versailles, and the 
 Princesse de Montbarry, being very anxious about 
 her son, little Saint-Mauris, and his sister (now 
 Madame de Nassau), I sent her word by your 
 father that if she would send her two children to 
 my house, in the Rue de Crenelle, 1 would take 
 care of them, and put them in warm south rooms. 
 They were sent accordingly, and when they arrived 
 I noticed that their lips were all discoloured black, 
 green, violet, and red. I insinuated myself into 
 their confidence, and I learnt that they had had 
 
KINDLY TREATMENT 257 
 
 nothing to eat between Versailles and Paris, so they 
 had fed on coloured wafers, with which they had 
 filled their pockets. 
 
 The little girl began to cry, and begged me not 
 to betray them, otherwise they would be put to 
 death for stealing the king's wafers from a closet 
 behind their father's office, where the secretaries 
 kept their materials. They were as thin and 
 famished as jackals. 
 
 " Wait a bit," I said, and I began by giving them 
 each a good bowl of rice soup. Afterwards they 
 were regularly served during the six weeks they 
 were with me with good broth for their breakfast, 
 and fruit, bread and jam, or milk dishes for their 
 lunch. Their next meal consisted of grilled cutlets 
 or pigeons stewed in barley, vegetables cooked 
 with stock, fruit compdte, and sometimes very 
 light short pastry ; while for their supper they 
 always had a fine fowl (they were only allowed 
 to eat the wings) with chicory, spinach, or well- 
 cooked lettuce, and after that prunes stewed in 
 a little Malaga wine to make them sleep. I used 
 to have them bathed from head to foot every 
 morning, and on Saturdays they had a bath a la 
 Dauphine.^ And every fortnight I gave them an 
 excellent little black dose made with manna, 
 tamarind, a pinch of rhubarb, a grain of sulphur, 
 seeds of chervil, a minute quantity of aloes and 
 
 ' That is, a bath prepared with a little sea salt, and a decoction of 
 wild thyme, laurel leaves, and marjoram. Fagon prescribed these baths 
 cold in summer and tepid in winter. 
 
 17 
 
258 i8TH CENTURY MEDICINES [chap, xii 
 
 jalap, and some Venetian th^riaque,' the whole boiled 
 in absinthe. But you must remember my nice little 
 medicines? I am sure the thought of them still 
 makes your mouth water I 
 
 If the children had found coloured wafers on 
 my writing-table — an impossibility in my superior 
 establishment — I am sure they would have had no 
 desire to steal them. At the end of this, to them, 
 new regime, quite an old one to me, they became 
 plump and pretty and gay. They also became 
 truthful and gentle and loving, and when the Prince 
 and Princesse de Montbarry came to see them, 
 they could hardly recognise them, " What ! " they 
 exclaimed, " our children have eaten all that food, 
 and not been ill, and they have grown so good 
 and amenable ! " 
 
 " Children who are given proper food in their 
 own homes, and enough at a time to satisfy their 
 appetites, are never greedy," I replied. And that 
 is the whole moral of my little story. 
 
 ' Medicine much in vogue, one of the ingredients being powdered 
 mummy. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 October 5th and 6th — Anecdote about Loto as a Game for Mourning — 
 Arrival of the Mob — Attack on the Castle of Versailles — Massacre 
 of the Guard — Return of the Royal Family to Paris — Charles de 
 Bourbon-Montmorency-Cr6quy — Letter from Lafayette — Absurd 
 Accusations — Madame de Cr6quy's Opinion ot Talleyrand — Visit 
 to Robespierre — Trial of Nicholas Bezuchet, the Impostor — Failure 
 of his False Claim — Madame de Cr6quy is ordered to appear 
 before the Tribunal — Placed in Arrest in her own House — Im- 
 prisonment at Ste. Pelagie or Elsewhere, the Exact Place Unknown 
 
 t 
 
 I HAD the misfortune to be stopping at Ver- 
 sailles during the horrible days of October 
 5th and 6th, 1789. The reason of it was that 
 your father was very ill of a quinsy, and his doctors 
 would not allow him to be moved to Paris on 
 account of the cold winds. My daughter-in-law was 
 laid up in the Hotel d'Anjou even more ill, and 
 had been in her bed three weeks. I was anxious 
 to nurse my son, and as Madame had the goodness 
 to offer me rooms in her apartment at Versailles, 
 I drove there on Sunday, the 4th, arriving at five 
 in the afternoon. In the evening I went to pay 
 my court to the queen. I found her in her private 
 room. She spoke at length with great courage and 
 good sense about the king's affairs. 
 
 While we were Ute-ci-tMe several ladies of the 
 Court arrived to form a circle, which seemed to 
 
 *S9 
 
26o COURT AT VERSAILLES [chap, xtn 
 
 annoy her greatly. I had risen, wishing to retire 
 for the Court was in mourning for an archduchess, 
 and in the state of anxiety I had been in at home, 
 I had forgotten to dress myself in black, but her 
 Majesty asked me to remain, and I had to give in. 
 
 " If the queen would only play a game of loto, 
 it would distract and amuse her," said Madame de 
 Chimay softly. 
 
 " Princess, what are you dreaming of?" said the 
 Mar^chale de Mouchy, who had overheard her. 
 "It is impossible to play here while the Court is 
 in mourning.'" 
 
 " I remember piquet at M. de Maurepas, under 
 «uch circumstances," I ventured to remark to them. 
 " Is not loto mourning?" 
 
 " It seems to me," said the Marechale de la 
 Rochaymon, one of the most obsequious and inane 
 persons I ever met, " that loto may be considered 
 admissible when in mourning." 
 
 " Loto is mourning, even deep mourning," said 
 the queen, looking at me and trying not to burst 
 out laughing. " I desire that a table be prepared 
 for these ladies for a game of Dauphin loto." 
 
 The Court ladies sat down to play, and the queen 
 continued her conversation with me, which lasted 
 more than an hour, during which time her Majesty 
 gave me some instructions, and said so many 
 obliging things that I could not repeat them all, 
 nor could I ever forget them. 
 
 The next morning we were told that the Due 
 d'Orl6ans had just arrived at Versailles and, though 
 
ARRIVAL OF THE MOB 261 
 
 disguised, had been recognised. Monsieur replied 
 to that that all the drunkards resembled the 
 Due d'0rl6ans, who in return resembled all the 
 drunkards ; that at Versailles there was an immense 
 number of scoundrels of all sorts, and that to be 
 mistaken for one of the scum the duke had only to 
 take off the blue ribbon of his Order, I had never 
 known Monsieur quite so severe on the duke before, 
 so I concluded in my own mind that he had re- 
 ceived information analogous to that which the 
 queen had given me. 
 
 We soon learnt that the great avenue leading 
 to Paris was thronged by a multitude horrible 
 to behold, who were coming straight to the 
 palace — men and women, children and old people, 
 beggars, national guard, artillery-men, sutlers, all 
 alike armed with guns, sabres, and pikes. Who 
 on earth had furnished them with these arms ? 
 No one could understand it. The king was away 
 hunting at Meudon. When he returned, he un- 
 fortunately ordered that his guard, as well as two regi- 
 ments that had been called out, should fall in, and at 
 once return to barracks. This kindly indulgence 
 only encouraged the leaders of the mob, among 
 whom was the Due d'Aiguillon in the dress of a 
 fishwife. The bodyguard, even when attacked, 
 were told not to retaliate, with the result that 
 eighteen of them were massacred at the gates, and 
 almost torn to pieces before their officers had time 
 to decide what should be done. Happily the 
 Comte de Saint-Priest took upon himself to gather 
 
262 M. DE LAFAYETTE Cchap. xm 
 
 the troops together, and gave them permission to 
 use their arms. They held the populace at bay till 
 ten at night, when M. de Lafayette arrived. He 
 posted guards at all the gates, and then went to 
 bed. Why did he want to retire so quickly, having 
 arrived so late ? When these two questions were 
 put to him later, he could not give a straight- 
 forward reply. 
 
 All the dregs of Paris were now camped out 
 in the Place d'Armes and the Rue de I'lntendance. 
 
 While M. de Lafayette slept, I watched beside 
 my son. At two in the morning I heard furious 
 cries in the direction of the marble court, and I 
 can assure you that the danger that menaced your 
 father and myself was quite the least of my troubles. 
 The royal family insulted ! The royal family 
 perhaps assassinated! I rushed from the room, 
 down the corridors, till I reached the apartments 
 of the queen's waiting- women, which communicated 
 with that of the Comtesse d'Ossun, Mistress of 
 the Robes. They were empty ; only the candelabra 
 and lustres ablaze. My heart failed me. I was 
 seized with palpitations, either from fatigue or dis- 
 quiet. I could hardly breathe or stand upright. 
 There was nothing for it but to sit there till 
 morning. Terrified, trembling, desperate at the 
 noises I heard, tormented by what I could not 
 see, fearing for the princes, anxious for my son, 
 I cannot express all that I suffered, not only from 
 fear, but from impatience, for this somehow appeared 
 to me to be my dominant sensation. 
 
COURAGEOUS BODYGUARD 263 
 
 I can relate but little of the events of that 
 awful night, as I saw nothing. I passed it in 
 my armchair! It is pretty well known that in 
 the middle of the night the National Guard 
 (in whom M. de Lafayette had such complete 
 confidence) introduced into the court of the 
 chapel, and from thence into the courtyard of the 
 castle, a mob of seven or eight hundred raving 
 and excited persons, who precipitated them- 
 selves towards the queen's apartments, uttering 
 horrible imprecations. Two of the bodyguard, 
 de Varicourt and Desuttes, had their throats cut at 
 the outer door of her bedroom, and it was only 
 the brave resistance of the rest of the guard that 
 gave her time to escape from the daggers of these 
 cut-throats, who, when they at last got into her 
 room, wreaked their vengeance by cutting her bed 
 to pieces with their bloody sabres. The Due 
 d'Orleans was in the castle among the assassins. 
 Several of the gentlemen saw him. His trusty 
 adherents wanted him to force the king's door, 
 but the duke's courage failed, and he was shortly 
 after seen escaping to Passy on a sorry post-horse. 
 
 We returned to Paris in the suite of the royal 
 family. How can I write of the kindly king and 
 majestic queen, brought back like captives, sur- 
 rounded by murderers, preceded by a bloody trophy, 
 the heads of their two valiant defenders. These 
 stupid, insensate citizens, these unsexed women and 
 monsters in disguise, accompanied the carriages, 
 crying out, " A . la Lanterne with the bishops." 
 
264 RETURN TO PARIS [chap, xm 
 
 The king was sitting with two bishops beside 
 him at the very moment in charge of good (?) 
 M. de Lafayette. 1 saw two shots fired into the 
 queen's coach, and ever so many pike-thrusts aimed 
 at it. Then, too, it was piteous to see the poor 
 body-guard, all those faithful and brave young 
 men, marching on foot, surrounding the royal 
 family to the end, some without coats on, and 
 all pale and bleeding. I noticed two in the Rue 
 de Sevres who had been cruelly wounded. One 
 was an old Scotch brigadier, the other M. de 
 Lentithac, a young gentleman from the south, 
 only se\enteen years old. I made them both get 
 into my coach. 
 
 " We will see," I said to M. de Lafayette, " if you 
 will allow a relation of your wife to be murdered 
 before my eyes." 
 
 They dragged a naked corpse for nearly an 
 hour alongside of us ; it was said to be that of 
 M. de Varicourt. I saw all these things, my 
 dear grandson, and I only wonder that I survived 
 the horror of it all. What revolted me most 
 was the sight of the Due d'Orl&ns, surrounded 
 by his children like a wolf with his cubs, on the 
 terrace of his house at Plassy, watching with eyes 
 drunk with vengeance and joy this sanguinary 
 and sacrilegious procession. 
 
 You may imagine how eager I was to pay my 
 court to the royal family at the Tuileries in their 
 isolation and sadness. 
 
 "You come to visit a ruin," said the queen. At 
 
MADAME CAMPAN 265 
 
 that moment her waiting-woman, Madame Campan, 
 came in and presented her with a book on a tray. 
 Her Majesty made me a sign to say nothing, and 
 I waited till the woman had retired. 
 
 " Alas ! Madame, surely you do not suspect her." 
 
 " It is not only suspicion that I feel, but terror," 
 replied she, in a trembling voice. " Madame 
 Campan is in correspondence with Brissot and 
 Barnave. On October 6th, in the midst of that 
 terror, she actually laughed ! " continued the queen. 
 "Think then with what horror I behold her, but 
 I am told I must be patient." ^ 
 
 The departure of Louis XVI. and the various 
 accidents that prevented the royal family from 
 getting beyond Varennes are among the most 
 lamentable incidents in French history. What pen 
 is equal to the task of describing the dignity, 
 gentleness, and goodness of our generous master ? 
 Who can venture to depict the torments inflicted 
 on our royal mistress ? Once more among impious 
 clamours and shouts of execration, they were 
 escorted back to Paris by the dregs of the populace, 
 this time as prisoners. 
 
 You know that I have not undertaken to write 
 a history of France, either before or after the 
 
 ' The opinion that Madame Cr^quy formed about Madame Campan 
 was held also by the royal family and household. The Memoirs she 
 was said to have written, but of which she was quite incapable, were 
 the work of M. Girod. Her protestations of fidelity were given the 
 lie after the Restoration, by the refusal of the Duchesse d'AngoulSme 
 even to give her an audience. One or two people stood by her, and 
 declared these were calumnies, but they had been educated in her 
 school. 
 
366 THE IMPOSTOR [chap, xm 
 
 Revolution. The effect of such an upheaval in 
 our country was to isolate us from all objects of 
 general interest, and to make us concentrate all 
 our feelings into the one small circle of the king, 
 his family, and our own. 
 
 Except a few intimate friends we saw no one. 
 All we had to think of was how to meet our end 
 in the most noble manner. Henceforth, all that 
 I shall relate will be my own story pure and 
 simple. 
 
 What else could I relate to you ? For I 
 occupied myself solely with my personal affairs : 
 my thoughts and my prayers were with the 
 prisoners of the Temple and the Due de Penthievre ; 
 my hopes and my fears were for my son, his 
 children, my old friends, and some good priests 
 to whom I offered hospitality. 
 
 My daughter-in-law wrote to me several times 
 from Fribourg, where she had taken refuge, and 
 among other items of news told me she had met 
 the Baron de Breteuil, who had related to her 
 the following story. 
 
 There was in Germany at that moment a 
 singular personage, an emigrant who called himself 
 M. Bourbon-Montmorency-Crequy. This man had 
 presented himself without ceremony or notice to 
 Prince Henry of Prussia, who was seated in his 
 salon entertaining the Duchesse de Courlande, 
 Madame de Sabran, and the Marquis de Boufflers, 
 besides other French emigrants. 
 
 He began whispering a lot of unintelligible 
 
HIS ABSURD CLAIM 267 
 
 things to the old prince, and then exclaimed, 
 " Monseigneur, I want to prove to you how that 
 execrable family of de Crequy have done their 
 utmost to usurp my property, and prevent it being 
 in my power to continue my illustrious line." His 
 pleadings were cut short and he was hustled out 
 of the castle. 
 
 I paid but little attention to this story, which 
 seemed to me to be a very improbable one. 
 Shortly after the Abbess of Saint-Antoine warned 
 me to be on my guard against the attempts 
 of an adventurer who had been driven out of 
 Germany, where he had pretended to be an 
 emigrant, who had arrived in Paris for the purpose 
 of denouncing us and demanding that all our 
 fortune might be handed over to him, as well as 
 the ducal domains of de Crdquy, worth 100,000 
 crowns a year. It was, however, very well known 
 that our house no longer possessed that great fief, 
 which, not being accounted " Salic," had passed 
 with the heiress of the eldest branch of the de 
 Blanchefort, and from them it became the heritage 
 of the Dues de Bouillon. 
 
 "My dear Madame de Saint-Antoine," I replied, 
 " he only has to come forward. I do not believe 
 there is a tribunal sufficiently ignorant and corrupt 
 to uphold such a claim." 
 
 But you will see later on. I had not much 
 reason to believe in the intelligence or integrity 
 of a revolutionary tribunal ! 
 
 Our opponent, to whom I find it difficult to 
 
=•^8 ACCUSATIONS [chap, xm 
 
 give a name, seeing that it was never very clearly 
 known who the man was or where he came from, 
 began by presenting to the National Assembly 
 his petition, in which he stated that he was the 
 legitimate son of Louis XV. by the natural daughter 
 of Louis XIV., whom he designated by the absurd 
 titles of Princesse de Montmorency, de Schceizberg, 
 de Freyburg, and of the Holy Roman Empire! — 
 rubbish which common-sense and an almanack 
 would have tested and refuted at once. 
 
 He complained that he had been detained a 
 prisoner by the orders of my father-in-law during 
 forty-six years, if you please ! 
 
 He accused me by name of having solicited and 
 obtained a permission from the king, Louis XV., 
 to have him bled in " all the four members," which 
 he declared had been done in a most revoltingly 
 cruel manner, in my presence and that of other 
 members of my family, and he also accused me 
 of having subjected him to treatment that had 
 rendered him unable ever to have issue, so that 
 my son might remain in possession of the Duchy 
 of Cr^quy, of which he, the plaintiff, had been 
 completely despoiled. He called upon the august 
 National Assembly to punish the so-called Cr^quys, 
 and to grant him the restitution of all the property 
 he claimed as rightful heir, and which they unjustly 
 held. He finally begged for a g^ard to ensure 
 the safety of his person. 
 
 It seems that this document was received by the 
 Assembly with much sympathy, and deep indig- 
 
"CREQUIER DE GUEULES" 269 
 
 nation was expressed against the atrocious de 
 Crequys. One might have supposed that the 
 Legislative Council would have had something 
 better to do than to accept such a tissue of 
 lies. Not at all! M. Bailly, Camus, Brissot, 
 Lafayette, and, above all, the Abb6 Lamourette, 
 all took the part of this innocent and interesting 
 victim of the inhumanity of the nobility. Our 
 antagonist did not fail to publish all the letters 
 he received from his supporters in the journals of 
 the day. One was from Lafayette, in which that 
 astute general, while assuring the claimant that, 
 though he fully believed in all the persecution to 
 which he had been subjected, he thought that 
 there was probably some mistake as to the author 
 of them ; and that though religious devotion was 
 often a mask for immorality, he doubted whether 
 a person of my character and position could have 
 been involved in such a proceeding. Doctors 
 were also found to certify that the petitioner was 
 marked on the lower part of the back with a 
 species of candelabrum with seven branches, which 
 is called a crdquier de gueules, and the surgeons, 
 assisted by the Commissioner of Heraldry, verified 
 that the claimant had been born with this natural 
 mark of one of the principal features of the arms 
 of de Cr^quy. 
 
 Wonderful privilege and singular motive for 
 trying to defraud me of my lands in Maine, and 
 my hotel in the Rue de Crenelle! 
 
 What annoyed me most in this business was thq 
 
270 NICHOLAS BEZUCHET [chap, xhi 
 
 stupidity and cowardice of my lawyers, who per- 
 secuted me to give up my house and leave Paris. 
 They declared that the people would come and 
 murder me, but I laughed at their chicken- 
 heartedness. 
 
 " But, Madame, we assure you he has already 
 got permission to turn you out of your house, 
 which he claims as part of the heritage left him by 
 the king, his father." 
 
 " Go and tell those fools of judges that this 
 house belongs to the Marquis de Feuqui^res, and 
 that I hold it only for my life. I have no intention 
 of going out of it alive, at least not voluntarily ! " 
 
 The result proved that I did right in not giving 
 way, as, after three years of persecutions on one 
 side and continual resistance on the other, this 
 miserable man was sentenced to the guillotine, to 
 teach him not to call himself the son of Louis XV. 
 and of Mile, de Montmorency, natural daughter of 
 Louis XIV., also to reward him for being the 
 grandson of Comte Alphonse de Cr^quy, who never 
 existed ! He perished on the scaffold in the second 
 year of the republic. In his act of condemnation 
 his name was given Charles-Alexandre de Bourbon- 
 Crequy. 
 
 It was supposed that he was a tripe-seller from 
 St. Denis, named Nicholas Bezuchet, but the 
 identity of this impostor, who caused my son 
 infinite trouble, both during our imprisonment and 
 my trial, of which 1 am going to tell you, was 
 never clearly proved. 
 
M. DE TALLEYRAND 271 
 
 M. de Letang, my lawyer, had decided on taking 
 certain steps from which he expected a favourable 
 result, but he suggested my doing a thing which 
 was to me so unpleasant that I had not the courage 
 to undertake it. He told me that the Bishop 
 of Autun was said not to be altogether a stranger 
 to the proceedings now going on, and he advised 
 my seeking an interview with him. When I heard 
 that I was expected to go and pay my respects to 
 M. de Talleyrand, I became refractory, and curled up 
 like a hothouse orchid. I told M. de Letang that I 
 could not in all conscience enter into any volun- 
 tary relations with that apostate bishop. He would 
 naturally conclude that he still possessed my esteem, 
 and to my thinking he was the most perverse, cor- 
 rupt, and detestable of the revolutionists. A priest 
 who descends from his pulpit to guide an excited 
 party to intrigue in politics, who changes his 
 mitre for a red cap, and leaves his mission of preach- 
 ing to men in the name ot God to sow discord and 
 pride in the name of man, is of all beings the most 
 criminal, and since Photius ^ and Cranmer no one 
 more loathsome has been known. In fact, my 
 child, I was willing to plead before Robespierre, 
 but I would not go to see M. de Talleyrand ; you 
 will easily understand this. 
 
 When it was settled that I was to appear before 
 Robespierre I raised no objections ; he was at that 
 time still far from the summit of his crimes. He 
 
 ' Photius, Patriarch of Constantinople, who raised up the great 
 schism among the Greeks in a.d. 858. 
 
272 VEILED COATS OF ARMS [chap, xiu 
 
 was more of a pedant than a tyrant, and at least 
 was saved the reproach of loss of dignity, seeing 
 that he had never had any, neither had he an 
 episcopal name to be stained. He lived very 
 modestly in a house belonging to a carpenter in the 
 Rue St. Honors, exactly in front of the Rue St. 
 Florentin.' 
 
 I left my house at eight o'clock precisely 
 in one of my son's coaches, the arms of which 
 were veiled with a cloud.* I was stopped at the 
 barrier of the Carrousel. I called out to Rin6 
 Dupont, my steward's son, who was following me, 
 to come to the window of my carriage. 
 
 " Take care," I said, "and don't press forward 
 too much, because of all these rude people. Who 
 is that man, and what did he say to Cauchois ? '' 
 (the coachman). 
 
 " I dare not tell you, Madame." 
 
 " Of course, if he said blasphemous things, you do 
 well not to repeat them." 
 
 " Oh no, Madame, it was not that ; he did not 
 swear at all. He is a priest who used to be at 
 St.-Sulpice. Did you not recognise him, Madame? 
 He is the citizen Daunou." 
 
 " But what did he say ? " 
 
 "He shook his fist and said to Cauchois, ' You 
 
 ' This house was pulled down in 1803, when the Rue Duphot was 
 built. 
 
 ■ The nobles had adopted this fashion, which was seen on all the 
 carriages instead of arms. It was for them a means of recognition, and 
 the populace did not understand the meaning. It was the only aristo- 
 cratic fashion of that time. 
 
ROBESPIERRE 273 
 
 can tell your mistress that her cloud is nailed on 
 for ever,' and then the coachman struck him on the 
 arm with his whip." 
 
 " It is very wrong of Cauchois to strike a priest, 
 even a constitutional priest ; tell him not to do it 
 again." 
 
 The Rue Saint- Honore was so crowded we 
 could only go at a foot's pace. At last I reached 
 the house, and was shown into a room on the 
 ground floor. I found M. Robespierre finishing 
 his toilette. His hair was stiffly crimped and 
 powdered. He had on a chintz dressing-gown, lined 
 with blue silk, shaded pink-and-white stockings, 
 and paste shoe-buckles. In the middle of the floor 
 stood a very pretty girl holding the legislator's 
 cravat, which was made of muslin embroidered with 
 coloured silks, and highly starched. She laid the 
 cravat down as soon as she saw me, but went and 
 fetched out two gold watches for her master, with 
 two very long gold chains. Robespierre had not 
 yet found time to cast his eyes upon me ; he still 
 stood with his back to me, putting the watches into 
 his fob, and looking for his purse on the chimney- 
 piece. At last he turned and said, with an air of 
 surprise, " I understood it was M. de Cr6quy." 
 
 " My son is ill, and unable to go out." 
 
 " But I saw M. de Cr^quy last Sunday," he 
 replied, and his face looked like a ferret. " I 
 conclude that one is not your son." 
 
 " Monsieur," I replied, " you are a lawyer, 
 and you are the Deputy for Artois, my son's 
 
 18 
 
274 ROBESPIERRE'S COURTESY [chap, xni 
 
 province. You have got to decide a case, the 
 absurdity of which it is useless to dwell upon here." 
 And I gave him a slight sketch of the impostor 
 Nicholas Bezuchet. 
 
 He listened attentively, but with a very dry 
 manner, and then began asking my views and 
 those of my son on the questions of patriotism 
 and the rights of the commonwealth. 
 
 I interrupted him. " Monsieur, I am too old to 
 be kept standing. You surely do not expect me 
 to discuss the revolution with you." 
 
 " I humbly beg your pardon," cried he, rushing 
 forward to place me in an armchair. " I pray 
 you to excuse my want of consideration, but it 
 shall never be said that Robespierre, former 
 Deputy of Artois, was ever wanting in respect 
 towards Madame de Crdquy." 
 
 On the whole, I was very well pleased with 
 him. He told me that, in his opinion, the 
 petitioner was a cheat, a forger, and a fool, and 
 having made many inquiries, he was convinced 
 that the matter did not need any attention what- 
 ever. While we were still talking, the young girl 
 brought in a letter, which she said was from M. 
 de Cr^quy. Robespierre began reading this letter 
 from Bezuchet, and a ghastly smile spread over 
 his countenance. He sent a message to say he 
 had no time to answer it at the moment. I thanked 
 him, really from my heart, though in cold and 
 measured language, which I thought more prudent. 
 He gave me his hand to lead me to my carriage. 
 
DEFEAT OF BEZUCHET 275 
 
 The pretty girl and her father the carpenter stood 
 open-mouthed watching my departure and wondering 
 who on earth I was. 
 
 The district tribunal began by sending the 
 claimant to take possession of my Hotel de Crequy 
 in the Rue de Crenelle, as well as the Hotel de 
 Crdquy, in the Rue d'Anjou, which belonged to my 
 son and my daughter-in-law ; but you may be sure 
 I refused to give it up, and there was a general 
 outcry of indignation at this action of the judges. 
 Bezuchet, not content with trying to despoil us of 
 all our possessions, laid claim to Chambord, which 
 belonged to the king, and Bellevue, which was the 
 property of Madame, as well as Plessis-Picquet, 
 which belonged to goodness knows who. This 
 led to such a complication that it ended in being 
 favourable to us, for the Assembly was inclined to 
 send the case to another jurisdiction. I insisted 
 that your father should' remain at Jossigny, and 
 keep out of the way of it all, for he was really 
 very ill. As to myself, on returning from the Court, 
 I was so worn out I tiook to my bed. 
 
 Bezuchet had the incredible folly to forge the 
 signatures of St. Just and Fouquier-Tinville, in 
 the hope of getting M. Roland to give him a 
 pension, and Robespierre took advantage of this 
 to shut him up in the prison of Sainte-P^lagie. 
 We were actually there together, though I did 
 not know it at the time, for which I have always 
 thanked God, as it would have added greatly to 
 my annoyance and also to my fears. 
 
276 REVOLUTIONARY TRIBUNAL [chap, xm 
 
 Another almost miraculous effect of this miserable 
 man's action against us was that, as our revenues, 
 while the case was pending, were put under a ban, 
 although we were on the list of emigrants, no one 
 cared to come forward to buy our lands, so all 
 we were despoiled of were your father's h6tel in the 
 Rue d' Anjou, and the two fine forests of St. Pol and 
 Varcilles, which they pretended belonged to my 
 daughter-in-law. However, I thought it wisest not 
 to argue the point, but rather to act as if I were 
 de;if and dumb, thankful that we had got off as 
 cheaply as we did. 
 
 I was summoned again to appear before the 
 revolutionary tribunal, to be interrogated about the 
 robbery of a diligence which had taken place near 
 Montflaux. One of Fouquier's twenty-four sub- 
 stitutes had been appointed to question me, and 
 as I arrived too early, I was shown into a large 
 hall and left to my own reflections and observations. 
 Round the walls of this room were ranged wicker 
 baskets such as servants use to carry up the wood 
 in. I had the curiosity to lift up the cover of 
 one of them, and found it filled with hair of all 
 shades. The wife of the concierge told me that 
 it was here that the last toilette of the condemned 
 was performed. To save time, instead of taking 
 them back to the prison, they were brought in here. 
 Their hair was cut off, which, with most of their 
 clothes, was her perquisite. You may imagine 
 what your poor grandmother felt at finding herself 
 there ! 
 
THE SANS-CULOTTES 277 
 
 My examination was neither long nor difficult. 
 The substitute knew nothing of the case, and did 
 not even know that I had been sent for. He 
 was a youth of about eighteen with the face of 
 a girl. He wore a red cap, a grey carmagnole, 
 and huge sabots. 
 
 I had voluntarily undertaken all these visits to 
 the tribunal, so as not to expose my son to the 
 danger which might have arisen, if the attention 
 of the authorities had been directed to him. The 
 next step was placing me under arrest, in my own 
 house, under the supervision of three sans-culottes, 
 who made our lives a burden to us. My house- 
 steward, Dupont, found the best plan was to stuff 
 them with food and keep them always drunk. 
 One succumbed to this generous treatment at the 
 end of eight days, and the other two fell ill. 
 " Dupont, you are a murderer ! " I said, but I could 
 not get him to see it in that light. He used to 
 send to the grocer for cheap brandy, so as not 
 to touch my cellar. These wretched creatures 
 chose to feed on pickled pork and dried haddock, 
 salt herrings and Dutch cheese. But what they 
 liked best was mustard and anchovies, which they 
 plastered on their bread. 
 
 In the end they had to be taken to the 
 hospital, where they were doubtless regaled with 
 the soup made for invalids at that time. It was 
 composed of horseflesh, dogs, cats, sparrows, and 
 ground millet-seed. 
 
 Two more men were sent to us ; and they suited 
 
278 POUCEDIEU [chap, xm 
 
 us better, for they slept all day and all night. I 
 remember one of them was called Poucedieu. 
 One wet day Dupont and his wife found him in 
 my big drawing-room, staring about him. 
 
 " What is that," he said, pointing to the canopy. 
 "It looks like the tester of a bed placed as the 
 canopy of a throne." 
 
 " That is just what it is," replied Dupont. 
 "The bedstead has been taken away, to make 
 room for the statue of Liberty and the bust of 
 Pelletier-Saint-Fargeau." 
 
 " Well," answered our keeper, with an air of 
 deliberation, " for an old aristocrat that is not 
 so bad !" 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 'The Abb6 Dampierre — First Imprisonment of Madame de Cr^quy — 
 Removal to the Luxembourg — Room Inmates — Anecdotes of Prison 
 Life^Removal to Sainte-P61agie — Madame du Barry — Her Death 
 — Visit from Madame Roland — Her Death — The Prison of " des 
 Oiseaux — Abb6 Texier and the Consolations of the Church — 
 Divinations of a Disciple of Cagliostro — Madame de Beauhamois 
 — Death of General Beauharnois — Safety of Abb6 Dampierre, 
 Grand Vicaire — Famine in Prison — Death of the Due de PenthiSvre 
 — The Height of the Terror— Massacre at Bicetre — Slaughter of 
 the Dogs — A Civic Procession — Madame de Cr6quy led out for 
 Execution — A Strange Reprieve — She is set at Liberty. 
 
 THE Abbe Dampierre had been living under 
 my roof for some time. It was he who 
 received all the moneys paid to the charities of 
 Paris, and he had the imprudence to send a sum 
 to the Hospital de la Republique by my housekeeper, 
 Madame Dupont. She did not return from her 
 errand, and we were all in the greatest anxiety. 
 I did not lose my head, but determined to find 
 another shelter for the abb^, as it was no longer 
 safe for him in my house. 
 
 Dupont went with him to ensure his safety, and 
 on his return to the H6tel de Crequy he found, to 
 his horror, that I had been taken away in an old 
 sedan chair to a prison, which one my servants did 
 not know. Oddly enough, neither have I to this 
 day ever discovered which of them it was. 
 
 279 
 
28o ARREST OF MME. DE CREQUY [chap, xiv 
 
 On my arrival there I was severely questioned 
 as to the action of Citoyenne Dupont, who was 
 accused of having forged notes in her possession. 
 They searched my person in a most insolent 
 manner, and pushed me into a sort of cellar, where 
 1 had to sit down upon the ground, there being 
 neither chair nor stool nor even straw. 
 
 I had taken the precaution to have twenty double 
 louis hidden in the soles of my galoches} and these 
 had fortunately escaped my jailor's notice. They 
 had left me my clothes, thank Heaven, but 
 they had confiscated a pocket-book full of notes — 
 to see if they were genuine, so they pretended. 
 They also took away my prayer-book, but left 
 me my rosary, on which, however, they passed 
 some very brutal remarks. The chief jailor was 
 Citoyen Salior. He asked me if it was true that 
 I was ninety-three. One of his subordinates ex- 
 claimed on hearing this, " Why, that is the age 
 of the ancien regime." I had determined not to 
 answer a single word, and kept to my resolution. 
 
 " Perhaps she is deaf," said Salior, and he began 
 to load me with abuse and foul imprecations, half 
 of which I could not understand, as it was mostly 
 argoi. He shook his fist at me and ground his 
 
 teeth, and called me an old , but I will not 
 
 sully this page with the word he used. In this 
 horrible cellar I passed a miserable night, and 
 I quite agreed with Saint Fran9ois de Sales, who 
 said he could not pray properly unless he was 
 
 ■ Clogs, with wooden soles, to keep out the damp. 
 
TH£ LUXEMBOURG sgi 
 
 kneeling comfortably. Though I tried to accept 
 my fate with resignation, I could not help blaming 
 the Abbe Dampierre and his unnecessary charities. 
 
 Next morning I was taken to the Luxembourg, 
 which had been turned into a prison, and where 
 I found a number of my acquaintances. 
 
 I implored the Princesse de Rochefort to give 
 me a little bit of bread, as I had not tasted food 
 for twenty-four hours. 
 
 " Alas ! " she replied, " I have nothing. What 
 can we do for her ? " she continued to Madame 
 d'Esparbds, who also shared the room. 
 
 " Let us ask Madame Matthieu de Montmorency 
 for something. She receives a tureen full of soup, 
 and. a fat fowl from the Hotel de Luynes every 
 day." 
 
 Madame Matthieu, on being applied to, said she 
 had eaten up everything. Then she came into 
 our room and complained bitterly, because some 
 one had stolen from her two napkins and some 
 empty bottles. 
 
 " She is just like her father," said Madame 
 d'Esparbes, when she had departed. "When we 
 discussed with him the losses every one had sus- 
 tained from the Revolution, he declared he had 
 suffered more than any one, because the carp and 
 the pike had been stolen from the moat o^ his 
 chiteau." 
 
 In this prison, sad to relate, I found a number 
 of women of my rank and intimate circle, as well 
 as relations — the Marechal de Mouchy and his 
 
282 PAINFUL SCENES [chap, xiv 
 
 wife, Princesse de Monaco, Duchesse de Fleuri, 
 Madame de la Riviere and her daughter, Madame 
 de Charm^au-Breteuil, and Madame de Narbonne. 
 They received me with open arms, but with sad 
 hearts. 
 
 1 shall never forget the scene when the Mare- 
 chale de Mouchy insisted on accompanying her 
 husband, on his being summoned to appear before 
 the tribunal. We gathered in the prison yard to 
 bid him goodbye. The jailor, his wife, and his 
 subordinates all begged her to remain, as her name 
 had not been mentioned. 
 
 " Citoyens," she exclaimed, " have pity on us. 
 Let me go with my husband. Do not separate us." 
 
 Her cap fell off; she stooped with difficulty to 
 pick it up, and replaced it on her scanty white 
 locks. Her devotion overcame the resistance of 
 her jailors, and they allowed her to get into the 
 fatal cart beside her husband. Two hours later 
 they had both ceased to exist. 
 
 The Princesse de C was not so courageous. 
 
 She pleaded her condition to have her execution 
 postponed, and finally went almost off her head, and 
 tried to commit suicide with a mixture composed of 
 pins, and copper coins soaked in vinegar. The only 
 result of this was to give her violent pains, and 
 her friends used to come running to beg us to 
 spare some of our daily pittance of milk to bring 
 her round. At last we all held out against this, 
 and sent her word that the next time she had 
 recourse to verdigris, we would leave her to her 
 
PRISON COMPANIONS 283 
 
 fate, which cured her any way of that method of 
 self-destruction. 
 
 At first we were only three in one room, which 
 we were thankful for, but presently they installed 
 a very tiresome and whimsical person named the 
 Marquis d'Alez de Bermond d'Anduze outside 
 our door. He was full of small pretensions as to 
 his titles of nobility. As soon as our door was 
 opened in the morning, he would rush into our 
 room, and we had to turn him out almost by force 
 to enable us to dress and say our prayers. His 
 conversation was most trivial, and he used to tell 
 wearisome stories at great length. God forgive 
 me for finding fault with him, but he was a most 
 tedious companion. He used to quarrel fiercely 
 with the Abb6 de Saint-Simon d'Archiac, who 
 also slept on the staircase, five or six steps below 
 him. Their disputes were generally in the night, 
 when they became very violent, the Abb6 accusing 
 the Marquis of spitting on his head. 
 
 Soon afterwards they brought us another room- 
 mate, a certain Madame Buffaut, a fashionable 
 woman from the suburbs, who gave herself tremen- 
 dous airs, which would have amused us greatly 
 if we had not had the guillotine in prospect, and 
 famine in reality. A good peasant woman from 
 Angers was added to our party, and I got on in- 
 finitely better with her than with the fine lady, 
 
 I like the lower orders so much better than 
 the middle class — the fact is, I had never been 
 brought into contact with the latter. 
 
284 BOURGEOIS IGNORANCE [chap, xiv 
 
 During my sojourn in this prison I had many 
 opportunities of observing and knowing the sort 
 of people with whom before I had never had 
 anything to do. All my life I had mixed with 
 those of my own rank, and knew no others, save 
 the worthy peasants on my estate and the respect- 
 ful servants who surrounded me. These middle- 
 class modern men and women who had formed 
 themselves on the model of Voltaire were a 
 revelation to me. 
 
 Madame Bufiaut was a fair type of these 
 superficial, ignorant persons, who were more than 
 satisfied with their own elegance and refinement. 
 As a specimen of her crass stupidity, she asked 
 the Marquis d'Alez, when la Mar^chale de Richelieu 
 was brought into the prison, " How was it that 
 in old days the Mar^chaux were ecclesiastics ? " 
 
 " But they were not, Madame. Why do you 
 think so ?" 
 
 " Well, I thought I remembered hearing that 
 the Mar^chal de Richelieu was a Cardinal ! " 
 
 One day they brought in a small pale woman, 
 who curtseyed to us all round, and never said 
 one word during the two or three nights she passed 
 in our room. She would not go to bed, but sat 
 on a straw chair, and never opened her mouth 
 except to eat a dry crust, or drink some milk or 
 red wine and water which we offered her. She 
 never took her eyes off" a casket, which she placed 
 on a chair in front of her, and spent the time 
 fanning herself, which, considering the temperature, 
 
DAILY HORRORS 285 
 
 was quite unnecessary. Good heavens, how I 
 sufifered from the cold in the Luxembourg ! and 
 yet I was told afterwards that it contributed to my 
 longevity. Certainly when I did at last come 
 out of prison I was strong, alert, and younger by 
 twenty years, which I feel sure was due to the 
 severe abstinence and the bitter cold. All the 
 same, it was a frightful trial. 
 
 The jailor would not bring us our food, but 
 would call upon " old Crequy," " fat Latrimouille," 
 or " little Monaco " to go shivering to the yard 
 to fetch it. One morning, on returning from 
 the yard, we found the little woman gone, and 
 only the casket remaining. A jailor came in about 
 an hour after to fetch it. Madame Bufifaut boldly 
 asked him whether the owner would return. His 
 only answer was to pass his hand across the back 
 of his neck. Then he proceeded to break open the 
 casket. It contained a man's bloody shirt, without 
 a collar, which was always cut off before an 
 execution, also a handful of silky black hair, and 
 a piece of paper on which was written, " For 
 my mother." Our jailor never would tell us the 
 name of this unhappy woman, nor did we ever 
 discover who and what her son was. 
 
 During that night, about two in the morning, 
 the jailor introduced into our room an individual 
 dregsed as a jockey, who set to work to protest 
 that he was a good Republican, and asked for a 
 bottle of champagne. He used the most frightful 
 oaths, but as the jailor addressed him as " Petite 
 
286 DUCHESSE DE BOUILLON [chap, xiv 
 
 Citoyenne," we were left in doubt as to the 
 creature's sex. Madame d'EsparbSs took upon 
 herself to address him. 
 
 " Sir or madame, for-we do not know which you 
 are, will you do us the favour not to make such a 
 noise in our room, and please be polite enough not 
 to swear in our presence. I shall be pleased to 
 make my friends and myself known to you. You 
 are in company with Madame Buffaut, the Marquise 
 de Crequy, the Princesse de Rohan-Rochefort, and 
 another person not less worthy or respectable than 
 ourselves. I have the honour to inform you that 
 I am Madame d'Esparbfes, and I am quite ready 
 to serve you, should occasion arise." 
 
 " Well I declare ! " cried the person addressed, in 
 angry tones. " You request me to hold my tongue. 
 I am just as good as any of you." 
 
 " I do not deny it," replied Madame d'Esparbes, 
 " and your appearance is quite in keeping with 
 your pretensions ; that is why I beg of you not to 
 swear." 
 
 " I may tell you, then, that I am the Duchesse 
 de Bouillon." 
 
 " What I " cried Madame de Rochefort, " you 
 say you are the Duchesse de Bouillon, wife of my 
 nephew ? Who ever heard such an impudent 
 deception .-' " 
 
 But it proved to be a fact. The last Due de 
 Bouillon, who was half imbecile, had, it seemed, 
 been made to marry this young woman according 
 to municipal rites, and in the end all his property 
 
ACTRESSES IN PRISON 287 
 
 fell into the hands of the attorneys. The little 
 "citoyenne" would not remain in our room, for 
 which we were truly thankful ; she had, indeed, 
 only come in to dazzle us with her greatness. 
 
 One morning, when we were waiting for the daily 
 distribution of bread and milk, a party of actresses 
 from the Com6die Frangaise were brought in. 
 These poor things told us they had been arrested 
 by order of the Committee of Public Morals, because 
 they had acted in a play called Pamela, an English 
 story, in which mention was made of the Order 
 of the Bath, or Order of the Garter, I forget which. 
 Mile. Contat addressed us in the most respectful 
 manner, and had always something witty or agree- 
 able to say when we met on the stairs ; she was 
 a very charming young person. Mile. Raucourt 
 used to make theatrical curtseys, and always 
 addressed us by our titles ; while pretty little Mile. 
 Mezeray was always laughing and romping with 
 the children in the corridors. She slept first in 
 one place and then in another, and sometimes 
 crept into a great marble vase, in which she lay 
 as in a funnel ; but she could not keep warm, 
 because all her possessions had been taken from 
 her, and a seal put on them. I sent her one of 
 my own blankets. Poor girl ! 
 
 I had the luck to be in great favour with the 
 Citoyenne Longand, the wife of the concierge, and 
 Dupont outside lost no opportunity of propitiating 
 her. She got a small charcoal foot-warmer for me, 
 in spite of the prohibition forbidding any fuel to be 
 
288 MARTINE LEVACHER chap, xiv 
 
 used in the prison. Her sister, a very good girl, 
 used to tidy up our room. Slie was always regret- 
 ting the ancien regime, and told us that before the 
 Revolution she had been first hand in a shop, or 
 rather manufactory, of birds. It was her work to 
 paint yellow canaries red, and to fasten cockscombs 
 coloured with vermilion on the heads of sparrows. 
 She talked incessantly, and used to bemoan her 
 losses in terms which might have led one to 
 suppose she was speaking of the downfall of the 
 Bourbons or the ruin of the Princes of Guemenee ! 
 
 The good countrywoman, the other inmate of 
 our room, was named M;irtine Levacher, and came 
 from la Vendue. She was the widow of a farmer 
 on the estate of M. de la Rochejacquelin. Her 
 husband had been shot on the sandy shore near 
 Avranches. She told us her experiences with 
 admirable simplicity. I used to talk to her for 
 hours at a time, and we said our prayers together. 
 
 "We are taking down your belfry," said one of 
 the members of the Convention to the husband of 
 this woman, " in order that you may have nothing 
 by which to remember your former superstitions." 
 
 " You must leave us the stars any way," re- 
 plied the peasant, "and they are older than any 
 belfry." 
 
 She was no longer young, but must have been 
 very beautiful. Stofflet wanted to marry her after 
 the death of her husband. 
 
 " I could have loved him," she said simply; "but 
 in marriage one must look forward to having 
 
SAINTE-PELAGIE 289 
 
 children to bring up as Christians, therefore I 
 always refused to listen to M. Stofflet." 
 
 She was only a poor peasant woman, but her 
 faith was sublime. 
 
 I really was as well off at the Luxembourg as 
 it was possible to be in a prison during the Reign 
 of Terror, but I was far from having drained the 
 cup of adversity to the dregs, and the next thing 
 that happened was, we were told we were going 
 to be transferred, and each one might take as many 
 of her possessions as she could carry. As we were 
 all incapable of heavy burdens, and feared we might 
 have to walk, all we took was what could be 
 wrapped in a handkerchief. They put us into their 
 horrid wicker carts and drove us to Sainte-Pelagie, 
 where the first face I saw was that of Madame 
 Roland, who had put her head through the wicker 
 window and was asking to speak to the registrar. 
 
 I was separated from my companions and put 
 into a small room by myself, a gloomy hole without 
 a fireplace. This was of no great consequence, 
 it being now summer ; but when the window was 
 shut I was stifled, and if I opened it, they at once 
 unclosed a panel in the door, and much as I want 
 fresh air, I always detest draughts. 
 
 Through this panel I was watched night and 
 day, and the jailor's children would throw filth 
 in upon me. The corridor smelt horribly of onions 
 and cooking and other odours'; it was, moreover, 
 used as a guard-room, a canteen, a tobacco store, 
 and the buttery of our division. It was a Cloaca 
 
 19 
 
290 MADAME DU BARRY [chap, xiv 
 
 Maxima of the French Republic! 1 was deafened 
 night and day by the noise in this abominable 
 corridor. The walls of my room were covered 
 with inscriptions which I would gladly have effaced, 
 but I could not reach them, nor could I bring 
 myself to ask this service of my jailor, for I was 
 ashamed even to direct his attention to them. 
 
 I never fell asleep while in Ste. Pelagie without 
 waking up with a start, and for six days I had no 
 food but black bread and dirty water, and did not 
 change my linen for a month. The jailor's son 
 had carried off my galoches — to clean them, he 
 said, but he never returned them. I did not dare 
 to ask for them, as the guillotine would have been 
 the immediate result. 
 
 Madame du Barry had been for some time 
 in this prison ; she was on the second floor 
 above me, in a dormitory with a number of pro- 
 stitutes, and she complained that these women 
 treated her with insolent familiarity. She did not 
 know how to occupy herself, and spent the time 
 dressing. She had put on a cambric dress to go 
 to prison in, trimmed with green and rose-coloured 
 satin in alternate scollops. She had a cap trimmed 
 with ribbons of the same colours, and satin shoes 
 to match. She had been denounced by a negro 
 page for having worn "mourning for the tyrant" 
 when in England, and it was on this charge she 
 was condemned to the scaffold. 
 
 " They will not kill me surely," she used to say. 
 " I have never done any one any harm ; they cannot 
 
HER SAD END 291 
 
 have the cruelty to put me to death." When the 
 end came, she clung to the executioner and cried, 
 " Do not kill me. Have mercy on me," and he 
 had to procure the help of two of his assistants 
 to place her on the scaffold. It was remarked that 
 she was the only well-known person who met her 
 fate with cowardice. 
 
 Madame Roland was my nearest neighbour, and 
 the doorkeeper told me one day she wished to 
 speak to me. 
 
 " Are the prisoners of Sainte-P^lagie allowed 
 to speak to each other ? " I exclaimed eagerly. 
 " Can I see the ladies who came in with me ? " 
 
 " They are not lodged on the same corridor as 
 you are, ' he replied ; " besides, the Citoyenne 
 Roland deserves better treatment than the rest 
 of you." 
 
 It seems this man had been helped formerly by 
 M. Roland, and favoured his wife by giving her 
 pens and paper, and doing her commissions. 
 
 Next morning, at daybreak, when my door was 
 opened, the figure of a woman appeared in the 
 entrance, instead of the jailor. " Citoyenne," she 
 said, " would you grant me the favour of an 
 interview ? " 
 
 " Come in, Madame," said I, for it was Madame 
 Roland, 
 
 The only chair was covered with my clothes, so 
 she sat down on the foot of my bed. She was 
 pale and disfigured ; I should hardly have 
 recognised her. She looked at me sadly, and 
 
292 MADAME ROLAND [chap, xiv 
 
 asked me if I did not suffer from the cold and 
 the discomfort of my miserable pallet. Then she 
 began talking of the dangers that menaced the 
 Republic, and told me she was writing her 
 Memoirs. 
 
 " What sort of consolation can you derive from 
 that," I answered, " unless it be the knowledge that 
 it will be a source of annoyance to many of us ? 
 For my part, I have remained faithful to my country 
 and to my traditions. I am an old French lady, 
 a strong Royalist and Catholic, so I much fear 
 we shall never agree on most subjects. It is 
 philosophy and impiety that has been our ruin." 
 
 " I wonder," she replied, "that a woman of such 
 intelligence can still hold to such miserable pre- 
 judices." 
 
 "Alas! my dear Madame, I might express the 
 same surprise, only instead of the word prejudice 
 I would say errors and illusions." 
 
 She then declared her intention of writing to 
 reproach Robespierre and make him blush for 
 his perfidy. 
 
 " You will not be much better off"," said I drily, 
 " when you have made Robespierre blush. Do 
 you not know that the surest way of being 
 promptly sent to the guillotine is to draw down 
 upon yourself the attention of Robespierre? I 
 could quote twenty cases, beginning with the Prince 
 de Salm, who insisted on doing so. For heaven's 
 sake keep quiet." 
 
 " You are a very superior person," said she, with 
 
REVOLUTIONARY VIEWS 293 
 
 an air of patronage ; " I will make mention of you 
 in my Memoirs." 
 
 " Will you do me a great favour ? " I said rather 
 solemnly. 
 
 " With pleasure, citoyenne." 
 " Do not mention me in your Memoirs — do not 
 write my name even on your papers, which may 
 be seized at any moment." 
 
 " You fear death then," she said contemptuously. 
 " I have no intention of confiding my feelings 
 to you. Be as foolhardy as you please for yourself, 
 but you have no right to endanger the lives of 
 Others. I am a mother," I added gently. 
 
 " Alas ! I too am a mother," And she burst into 
 tears, and spoke at some length, with infinite 
 tenderness, of her daughter. She was no longer 
 the republican and the encyclopsedist, but the 
 mother, and almost the Christian woman. 
 
 " Poor soul ! " I said compassionately, " I have 
 brought you to tears, when I would gladly have 
 
 consoled you. Lift up your eyes to heaven " 
 
 " Your compassion encourages me," she inter- 
 rupted, "and fills me with pride. The tears of 
 old people are precious as pearls, more precious 
 indeed, for they are of more value." 
 
 I could not help being vexed with her want 
 of taste and tact ; no person of refinement would 
 have made such a remark. It was not polite to 
 speak of my extreme age, as if it was a wonder 
 that I had any feelings left. 
 
 I have never concealed my age nor wished to 
 
294 PRISON DES OISEAUX [chap, xiv 
 
 ignore it, but inferior people, even when endowed 
 with great talent, are sadly wanting in the knowledge 
 of certain rules which prevail in our class, one of 
 which is to avoid wounding any one's feelings. 
 
 This woman was blinded by over-weening pride, 
 and consumed with the thirst of ambition. Hatred 
 and impiety filled her soul. Her interminable 
 declarations of ardent love for the Republic were 
 wearisome and revolting in the extreme. Her 
 opinions, however, did not save her from her 
 terrible fate, and the tigers craving for human 
 blood pursued her vindictively to the end. But 
 her spirit remained unbroken. She stepped upon 
 that platform of carnage and horror with absolute 
 courage, but without any support save human 
 pride. Let us turn away our eyes from the 
 painful spectacle. 
 
 At the end of four months I was moved from 
 Sainte-P^lagie to another prison called " Des 
 Oiseaux." This was the healthiest and most com- 
 fortable prison in Paris, and I can now venture to 
 say without risk that it was Dupont who procured 
 this move, by payment of a large sum of money. 
 
 My new abode was situated off" the Boulevard 
 des Invalides, at the end of the Rue Notre Dame 
 des Champs. It was formerly the house of the 
 Marquis Dulau d'Allemans, and the name of " Des 
 Oiseaux " was given it by the children of the 
 neighbourhood, who used to gather round the gate 
 to gaze at a fine aviary in the garden. At the 
 first stroke of the Revolution the patriots of that 
 
DISCIPLE OF CAGLIOSTRO 295 
 
 district had scaled the walls, and pulled down the 
 bars of the cages, to let the poor captives free. 
 The birds, however, were not much better off than 
 the poor Parisians, for they had no food, and were 
 eaten by the cats. I found myself in good company 
 in this house. The Duchesse Douairiere de Choiseul 
 was there, also the Vicomtesse de Mailly. The 
 latter wept all day, and no wonder — they had 
 guillotined her son, a charming youth of seventeen. 
 
 Here also we had the consolations of religion 
 and the Sacraments of the Church, for the Abbd 
 Texier was confined here. We were at a loss 
 to know how to conceal the materials for the Holy 
 Eucharist and the oil for the extreme unction. 
 One day, when we feared a domiciliary visit, we 
 poured the holy oil into a bottle, which contained 
 essence of orange flower, and threw the silver 
 vessel into a deep well. I thought of hiding the 
 sacred wafers between the pages of a book, but 
 as it was only a very bad book indeed that they 
 allowed us to keep, I felt this to be an act of 
 irreverence I could not commit. 
 
 In this house there was also an old M. 
 Duvivier, a disciple of Cagliostro, who could reveal 
 wonderful things by the aid of a colombe and a 
 water-bottle. The jailor's daughter, a pretty child 
 of six, helped him in his magical operations. The 
 colombe, or pupil, had to be absolutely innocent. 
 
 The Vicomtesse de Beauharnais asked Duvivier 
 for news of her husband, as it was known that 
 he had been taken before the tribunal. It was 
 
296 MAGICAL SEANCE [chap, xiv 
 
 in the middle of the night that she made this 
 request. 
 
 The child was awakened, and the jailor, for the 
 sum of fifty francs, allowed the stance to take 
 place. Madame de Beauharnais was not present. 
 
 All that M, Duvivier required for his purpose 
 were a table, a bottle of fresh water, and three bits 
 of candle, also the assistance of his colombe. 
 
 He put his hands on the little girl's head and 
 said, " What do you see ? " 
 
 She replied, " I see a small room ; one man 
 is sleeping on the bed, another is sitting, writing 
 in a big book." 
 
 ' ' Can you read ? " 
 
 " Oh no, citoyen. Ah ! he is cutting his hair 
 and wrapping the locks in a piece of paper." 
 
 " What ! the man who was asleep ? " 
 
 " No, no ! the one who was writing. Now he 
 is stuffing some notes into his pocket-book, and is 
 moving across the room quite softly." 
 
 ' How do you know ? You cannot hear him." 
 
 " I can see he is walking on tiptoe. His face is 
 now buried in his hands." 
 
 " What has he done with the pocket-book ? " 
 
 " He has put it with the packet of hair into the 
 coat pocket of the man who is sleeping on the bed." 
 
 " What colour is the coat ? 
 
 " A sort of red or brown — I do not know which. 
 It is lined with blue silk and has glittering buttons." 
 
 "That is enough," said the magician; "now 
 you may go back to bed." Then, turning to us, he 
 
VICOMTESSE DE BEAUHARNAIS 297 
 
 continued, " General Beauharnais is still alive, but 
 it is evident all preparations have been made for 
 his execution. Do not tell his poor wife. All that 
 I will say is that he was still alive at two o'clock 
 this jnorning." 
 
 That evening we learnt from the papers that 
 he had been guillotined during the day.^ 
 
 I cannot pretend that I had much esteem or 
 liking for the Vicomtesse de Beauharnais, nor was 
 she a favourite with her husband's family. 
 
 She was a Creole, vain and pretentious, always 
 talking of the Court of France, where she had never 
 set foot in her life, except perhaps in the galleries 
 of Versailles, to see the royal family pass by. 
 
 We were now all sent for, and orders given to 
 proceed to the prison " Des Carmes," and we were 
 made to walk there behind a procession in honour 
 of agriculture. That night was spent on a hard 
 bench, while we waited the arrival of some official 
 who never came ; and then it turned out that it 
 was all a mistake, and we were driven back like 
 a flock of birds to the poultry yard. 
 
 One comfort at Des Oiseaux was we could 
 get the daily papers on a payment of 50 francs 
 a week, which was conveyed with great secrecy to 
 our jailor. He had several little children, and when 
 they were very ill with the measles, I got up in 
 the night, and baptised them all three and made 
 them Christians without any one knowing anything 
 about it. 
 ' Madame de Beauharnais afterwards married Napoleon Buonaparte. 
 
298 FAMINE IN PRISON [chap, x.v 
 
 The Ahh6 Texier and I kept up a corre- 
 spondence with the Abb6 Dampierre, who had 
 now returned to sleep in my house in the Rue de 
 Crenelle. He dared not stay there by day. He 
 used to climb over the garden wall after dark, 
 and take shelter in a little tool-shed, where ships' 
 biscuits and wine were always kept for him. Had, 
 however, the Reign of Terror lasted much longer, 
 the Grand-Vicaire would assuredly have lost his 
 head. 
 
 Meanwhile there was famine in Paris, so you 
 may imagine what it was in the prisons. For the 
 last ten days we had been given a horrible stuff 
 which they called bread, but which even the dogs 
 would not touch. The crust alone was eatable, 
 the inside was a black sticky mass which adhered 
 to the knives and plates like a poultice. Our little 
 store of gruel and barley was already consumed ; 
 indeed, we had shared it with the jailor's family, 
 for they were starving. At last even this bread 
 failed, and the Government dealt out to each prisoner 
 an allowance of different kinds of grain — coarse 
 peas, broad beans, and seeds of turnip, cabbage, 
 and other vegetables. "If people have hand-mills, 
 let them grind it ; if not, let {hem boil it, and do 
 the best they can." Such were the orders issued 
 with it. 
 
 All this time I am forgetting to tell you what 
 had happened to the rest of the family. Poor 
 Madame Dupont had beea shut up in La Bourbe, 
 where she had nothing to do but cry all day and 
 
DEATH OF DUC DE PENTHIEVRE 299 
 
 all night, and knit socks for you. You were in 
 charge of Mile. Favereau, and you cried nearly 
 as much for want of your dear Dupont. Your 
 father was a prisoner at the " Madelonettes," and 
 your mother was at her own place near Basle. 
 M. le Due de Penthievre was lying ill at his 
 chateau in Normandy, under the care of his tenants, 
 who opposed his arrest. The Ahh6 Dampierre 
 wrote me word that the illness was increasing and 
 left no room for hope. The last letter I had from 
 this excellent prince was in February, 1793 ; in it 
 he declared he could not survive his sovereign. 
 He sent me affectionate farewells, and recommended 
 his daughter to my care. I rejoiced to think that 
 he was so near his release, and wrote him a pencil 
 line as follows : 
 
 "I do not desire, Monseigneur, that you should 
 wait for me — you would suffer too much ; but it will 
 not be long before I rejoin you. My faith sustains 
 me, and I overcome my tears. Adieu, my friend. 
 God be with you ! " 
 
 The Due de Penthievre died the following month, 
 and was buried in the vaults at St. Etienne de 
 Dreux. I cannot find words to tell you all I felt 
 at this loss, but over the tears and grief of old 
 age we should always draw a veil. 
 
 I have now reached the very height of the 
 Terror, and you will see that the atrocities of this 
 long period surpassed all human belief. The 
 massacres in the prisons, which had ceased for a 
 time, began again. The guillotine was over- 
 
300 HEIGHT OF THE TERROR [chap, x.v 
 
 crowded ; some other means had to be brought into 
 use. The unfortunate prisoners were led out by 
 their executioners. They were first made to stand 
 on a heap in the courtyard under the pretext of 
 making them swear allegiance to the nation. This 
 heap was composed of the bleeding members and 
 blood-stained clothes of those already murdered, 
 and the bodies of the fresh victims despatched with 
 sabres fell on to this ghastly pyramid. 
 
 Among the other awful things they related to 
 us in our prison was the wholesale massacre at 
 Bic6tre, the great lunatic asylum, which had also 
 been requisitioned for a prison. For eight days 
 and seven nights the carnage continued. The 
 lunatics, who had been left without food, managed 
 to release each other from their chains, and, raving 
 mad, were cut down with the rest. The mutilated 
 bodies were taken away in carts to Montrouge, 
 and the famished dogs followed the trail of blood. 
 These poor dogs, mostly without masters or food, 
 became frightfully savage ; they used to assemble 
 at night in the Champs Elys^es in such numbers 
 that they would bar the passage of the market 
 carts, and attack the drivers and horses. The 
 National Guard shot them down to the number of 
 3, OCX). This measure was taken for the safety of 
 Paris, but the dead carcases remaining, menaced 
 the city with another peril. For three days a 
 controversy raged between the Commune and the 
 National Guard as to whose business it was to cart 
 them away. Fortunately the Inmates of the Hall 
 
FALL OF ROBESPIERRE 301 
 
 of the Convention suffered from the pestilential air, 
 and Gasparin hit upon an idea for disposing of 
 them. They requisitioned all the carriages in the 
 neighbourhood, and I need hardly say that the 
 aristocrats were not anxious to claim them again ! 
 Five or six great gilded coaches belonging to the 
 king and to Madame, as well as two of my own, 
 were seized. (Dupont told me this afterwards.) 
 This strange procession was one of the most 
 childish that had been carried out by the revolu- 
 tionary party. They followed each other in single 
 file, with the heads and tails and limbs of these 
 miserable dogs hanging out of the doors and 
 windows. 
 
 It was decreed that the people of France should 
 recognise the existence of a Supreme Being, and 
 believe in the immortality of the soul. Robespierre, 
 with a bunch of roses in his hand, took part in 
 a procession in honour of the Supreme Being, and 
 set fire to a figure supposed to represent Atheism. 
 He was accused of theocracy. What the bunch 
 of roses had to do with it I don't know. All I 
 can say is, judging by the sermon he delivered 
 on the occasion, these patriots were cleverer than 
 your grandmother if they were able to grasp his 
 meanings, for to me the whole discourse, which 
 I read in the journals, was incomprehensible. 
 Whether owing to his theocracy or his despotism, he 
 had made a large number of enemies, and he was 
 precipitated from the giddy height of his power 
 to the guillotine with extraordinary speed, without 
 
302 CALLED TO THE SCAFFOLD [chap, xiv 
 
 any of us being able to understand the motive for 
 this act, though indeed it seemed to be an execution 
 of Divine justice. The death of Robespierre by 
 no means put an end to the Terror, and a month 
 later Fouquier was signing the death-warrants and 
 the guillotine still claiming its victims. 
 
 On Thermidor 30th, our jailor being away, Citoyen 
 Dasny, who had taken advantage of his absence 
 to tyrannise over us, ordered me to get ready to 
 appear before the tribunal, and to take my place 
 in the cart, where the Comtesse de Narbonne was 
 already seated. He added that the oven was ready, 
 and only waiting for me. I strove to resign myself 
 as courageously as I could. One painful thought 
 flashed across my mind, which was that I should 
 never see you, my dear child, again. I put my few 
 papers together, and bade farewell to my companions 
 old and young. Olympe de Neuillant wept bitterly. 
 "Oh! citoyen," she cried out, "what an act of 
 inhumanity to lead this aged and virtuous lady to 
 the scaffold!" 
 
 " My child," I said, embracing her, " age is 
 nothing now. We might all be ninety-five." 
 
 Dasny hurried me roughly away, but I insisted 
 on stopping to say a few words to the Abb6 Texier, 
 for which purpose I went into his room. 
 
 "Are you never coming," shouted the driver, 
 " old aristocrat, old autocrat, old figure-head ? " and 
 I don't know how many more names he showered 
 on me. 
 
 " Hurry up, and finish," said Dasny, looking 
 
REPRIEVE 303 
 
 uneasy, for the bell at the great gate had just 
 sounded. 
 
 It was our own jailor returning. " What is 
 all this about?" he said. "It is not the widow 
 Cr^quy-Froulay who is wanted, but the woman 
 Marie-Th6r6se du Muy Cr^quy, who has been 
 denounced on her return from emigration. You 
 may go upstairs again, citoyenne." 
 
 I looked at Madame de Narbonne almost with 
 shame, and with a sentiment of extreme grief. 
 Shall I ever forget the anguish of that moment ? 
 She would have to go and meet her doom alone, 
 while I was reprieved. It broke me down so 
 completely that I was six months recovering from 
 the effects of it. Had I not stopped to speak to 
 the Abb6 Texier, or had the jailor been detained, 
 and arrived ten minutes later, I should have gone 
 to the guillotine under my daughter-in-law's name, and 
 should have perished with Madame de Narbonne. 
 Just fifteen days after this episode I was released 
 from prison. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 Return to the Hotel de Crdquy— Isolation and Sadness — The New 
 Directoire — State of Paris — A Few Words about the Vendue — 
 Chevalier de Charette — Abuses of the Directoire — Costumes of 
 the Period — Rage for the Antique — The Salons of the Quartier 
 d'Antin — Want of Manners of the Parvenus — Death of Madame 
 de Crfiquy's Grandson — Visit to the Tuileries — Interview with 
 Napoleon Buonaparte. 
 
 NO one, save those who witnessed it, have any 
 idea of the state of confusion that prevailed 
 in Paris when I was released from my jail. Society 
 was disorganised. In the H6tel de Crdquy solitude 
 reigned and intense dejection pervaded it. My 
 prison had not felt so utterly dreary as did my 
 house when I returned to it. 
 
 While death stared me daily in the face, I was 
 braced up to endure the ordeal ; but when the 
 tension of my mind was removed, I fell into a sort 
 of stupor such as I had never known before. My 
 mind at times was a blank ; then I would find 
 myself regpretting my captivity, longing for my 
 prison companions. We had been bound together 
 by force of circumstances, and by that strange 
 bond of common misery, the only thing which 
 had saved us all from utter despair. I did not 
 know what to do with my liberty. Paris in 1794 
 
 304 
 
LOSS OF FRIENDS, 305 
 
 was so unsafe, one ran the risk of being murdered 
 in one's own house. I missed the sense of security 
 of the great gates, and the porters with keys, who 
 locked us in in safety every night. I missed my 
 garden bench at " Des Oiseaux," and above all I 
 missed the jailor's little children. When at times 
 I had glimpses of returning reason, I used to say 
 to myself, " Why ! I am becoming childish," and 
 I would try to rouse myself. 
 
 My son had thought fit to take you across the 
 Swiss frontier to be with your mother. I had lost 
 my friend the Due de Penthievre, and his daughter 
 was exiled. They had murdered my nephew du 
 Chitelet and his wife, the Duchesse de Gramont, 
 the Princesse de Monaco, my niece de Lauzun 
 and her husband, the Mardchal de Mouchy and 
 his wife, the Marquis de Neuillant, the Comte de 
 Vergy, the Abbe de Goyon, Mesdames de Renty, de 
 Lesdiguieres, de Canaples, and the poor Comtesse 
 de Narbonne. Altogether I had lost among my 
 circle of friends seventy-one persons, without 
 counting my relations. Beside the multitude of 
 persons who fell in the Revolution, a number of 
 others lost their reason. Madame de Laverdy had 
 the strangest ideas and was filled with hallucina- 
 tions. Madame de Valentinois went quite mad and 
 had to be shut up, also Madame de Castellane and 
 M. de Lomagne. Madame de la Reyniere was in 
 a state almost bordering on the ridiculous ; she 
 said everything that came into her head, so that 
 her salon became a perfect Palace of Truth. It 
 
 20 
 
306 MARAT'S LAST BURIAL [chap, xv 
 
 was curious and sad to be able to read her thoughts 
 so clearly, and see all the workings of her hard 
 and selfish mind. 
 
 As soon as Carnot, Bilaud-Varennes, Herbois, 
 and Barrere had been driven out of the Committee 
 of Public Safety, a feeling of real security became 
 general and joy was universal. Fouquier-Tinville 
 was shortly afterwards arrested, and the abominable 
 Ciirrier condemned to death. The hall of the 
 Jacobins was demolished, and a market was built 
 on the site. The remains of Marat, which had 
 been buried at the Pantheon with so many civic 
 rites, were torn from their resting-place, and 
 dragged through the streets of Paris to the Rue 
 de Montmartre, where the mob broke open the 
 grating of the main sewer, and threw them into 
 this loathsome tomb. I happened to be driving 
 past the procession and saw what looked like a 
 huge basket full of bones. I asked my footman 
 Langevin what they were doing with it. (I must 
 apologise for mentioning my servants, but I really 
 had no one else to speak to.) Langevin inquired 
 of the men, who were all of the better class, and 
 said, " Madame la Marquise de Crequy wishes to 
 
 know " They interrupted him by crowding 
 
 round the window of the carriage, asking me if I 
 had come out of prison. Some of them pressed 
 my hands, all had tears in their eyes. 
 
 The whole of Paris was thrown into transports 
 of joy and emotion. It is almost impossible to 
 describe; 1 wish you had been old enough at the 
 
CHEVALIER DE CHARETTE 307 
 
 * 
 
 time to appreciate and remember it. Human 
 nature is at its best when it has been purged through 
 suffering. People stopped each other in the street, 
 even total strangers. They asked eager questions, 
 offered each other help. They rejoiced together 
 with frankness and simplicity. It was a sight to 
 see the young people at the Tuileries or at the 
 theatres. All joined in the choruses ; they embraced 
 each other and wept convulsively, shedding tears 
 of joy or righteous indignation. It was a state 
 of delirium, and enough to melt a heart of stone. 
 
 Another thing, my dear grandson, that I regret 
 is being unable to relate to you at length the 
 history of our glorious Vend^e.^ To do so, I 
 should have to refer to revolutionary documents, and 
 the papers I begged Madame de Charette to send 
 me have not arrived. Besides, it would take more 
 time and strength than I have left, to do justice 
 to such a theme. I would gladly tell you of 
 Larochejacquelin, of the Bonchamps, the Lescures, 
 and above all of the Chevalier de Charette, for 
 I may as well say at once that Charette and 
 Cathelineau are my favourite heroes — the one 
 an honourable and intrepid gentleman, the other 
 a simple-hearted peasant. They remind me always 
 of the brave Dunois, and the saintly shepherdess 
 of Domremy. Since the wars of Charles VII. 
 nothing finer has ever taken place in the annals 
 of French history. Even the revolutionary journals 
 
 ' The rising of the nobles and priests in the west of France, in 
 support of the monarchy. 
 
308 THE FIVE DIRECTORS [chap, xv 
 
 give one a grand idea of de Charette, and enable 
 us to measure all the capacity and strength of this 
 nobleman of Brittany, who carried the assault of 
 the Citadel of Noirmoutier, and seized the town 
 and island with only his peasant followers, who 
 fought knee-deep in the sea with incomparable 
 courage. 
 
 The Executive Directoire, which replaced the 
 National Convention, was no longer a reign of terror 
 but a civilised saturnalia ! All estates and posses- 
 sions were considered the property of the nation, 
 and were put up for sale at extraordinarily low prices. 
 Any one could buy a church, or a farm, a forest 
 or an hotel in Paris, for one hundred livres 
 toumois} The changes of fortune were so rapid 
 and constant that the result was like a gigantic 
 lottery. The five Directors of the Republic were 
 the principal spoilers, and enriched themselves at 
 the expense of the army and of all the subordinate 
 salaried officials. If you want an idea what Paris 
 was like in 1796, imagine a great city of eight 
 hundred thousand inhabitants who have all gone 
 mad, with the exception of one old lady, who had 
 enough sense left to laugh at their vagaries ! 
 
 The population were divided in their ideas of 
 dress and manners. The dregs of the people 
 remained regular sans-culoties, and wore the red 
 cap, the carmagnole, and the big sabots. The 
 females belonging to them looked much worse than 
 
 ■ Coins made at Tours, of much higher value than those coined in 
 Paris. 
 
CLASSIC COSTUMES 309 
 
 before the Revolution, as they were poorer and 
 dirtier. It was at this time they took to twisting 
 a coloured handkerchief round their heads instead 
 of wearing caps. In former days the poorest 
 women all wore nice caps with starched frills, even 
 on working days. The artists and comedians went 
 in for a severe Greek costume. They wore the 
 Spartan tunic to the knee, and a chlamys or toga 
 with embroidered border. Their head, chest, 
 arms, and legs were bare. You may think how 
 they enjoyed the winter, and the embarrassment 
 they must have experienced crossing the Pont 
 National or the Place de la Concorde in the 
 equinoctial gales ! As to the rain, they received it 
 on their classical heads with wonderful stoicism. 
 One young citoyen told Madame Dupont that the 
 rain rendered him a double service — it cleaned his 
 head and made his hair curl. The women-folk 
 of these enthusiasts wore a sort of cotton chemise 
 with a little muslin dress without sleeves, and arms 
 and neck bare. 
 
 These antique dresses had no fulness, and the 
 waist was under the armpits. The women's hair was 
 cut short, and their heads bound round with bands 
 of coloured braid. They wore sandals, and their 
 legs were bare. They had neither gloves nor 
 pockets ; the latter want was supplied by means of 
 a small reticule. Doubtless it was not the habit 
 of the ancients to blow their noses. 
 
 The Greeks had rivals in another party, called 
 the " merveilleuses " of the Luxembourg. They 
 
3IO Tin-: MERVEILLEUSES [chap, xv 
 
 had adopted the Roman costume, as it lent itself to 
 more gorgeous apparel. I forgot to tell you that 
 the five directors had agreed to live together in 
 the palace of MadauK;, and these Tiberluses of the 
 Luxembourg held a court full of charming Julies, 
 Poppies, Agrippinnes, and Corndies. These wore 
 patrician robes of purple, bordered with gold. 
 Long tresses of hair intermingled with precious 
 stones. They wore diamond rings in their ears, 
 and their flesh-coloured stockings were divided 
 like the fingers of a glove, which latter fashion 
 amused me mightily. 
 
 You can well believe that I lived quite apart 
 from what they pleased to call society. What 
 makes me feel that my days will soon be numbered 
 is that I have lost all my old sense of the ridiculous. 
 My mind is blunted, nothing seems left to me but 
 a love of virtue and a horror of vice. I am still 
 sensible to the sorrows of others, and I still feel 
 di-eply the affection bestowed upon me. Please 
 God, 1 shall never be so deadened as not to be 
 abli; to realise these things. 
 
 I have to take all I hear for granted, as I have 
 no means of judging for myself; my own life is 
 passed between four walls. Hours and habits, they 
 tell me, are all changed. People dine at four 
 o'clock and drink tea afterwards. Ladies no longer 
 exchange embraces and civilities. I heard that 
 Madame de Luynes received the Citoyen Talley- 
 rand at her house, and Madame d' Albert undertook 
 to escort him to the door on his departure, as 
 
QUARTIER D'ANTIN 311 
 
 her sister-in-law was engaged at the card-table. 
 Talleyrand scented some mischief in this, and so 
 he took care to make no remark or objection. He 
 dreaded hearing her call him Monseigneur, or in any- 
 other way allude to the propriety of conducting a 
 bishop to the outer door! Times are changed ! 
 When Madame Moreau, the wife of an attorney, 
 used to call on me to ask a subscription for a work 
 of charity, M. de Cr^quy would conduct her down- 
 stairs to put her in her vehicle, hat in hand. Now, 
 M. Inguerlot received the Duchesse de Choiseul 
 and the Princesse d'Hdnin, who had come to him 
 on business, without rising from his seat. But then 
 your grandfather was made of different stuff to 
 this parvenu tr.adesman ! As to the houses of 
 these upstarts, they occupied the best they could 
 find, in the Quartier d'Antin, I should imagine 
 they still smelt of bloodshed and carnage. They 
 gave balls in rooms hung with crimson damask 
 bordered with black, and lighted by oil lamps 
 instead of candles, which must be very disagreeable 
 and unwholesome. 
 
 I begin, however, to think that the great charms 
 of the antique are already beginning to pall, and 
 that the Middle Ages are coming upon us, as 
 happened once before in the days of Constantine. I 
 have already noticed Gothic letters on seals, and on 
 mottoes and panels of carriages. I have a presenti- 
 ment that everything will be Gothic ! The need 
 of constant change will be the disease of the future. 
 You, my little boy, will no doubt come back to the 
 
3i2 TALLEYRANb'S ADVICE [chap, xv 
 
 costumes and habits of the Grand Monarque. 
 Your wife will doubtless end by wearing the fashions 
 of my youth. You will be able to laugh at the 
 poor people in the days of the Consulate, with 
 their mahogany furniture (a thing I abhor), and 
 who were condemned to sit on the uncomfortable 
 chairs of the period, no others being considered 
 admissible. 
 
 * » « « » 
 
 [About this time the Marquise de Crdquy 
 had the overwhelming sorrow of basing the little 
 grandson she loved so dearly. Raoul de Crdquy, 
 Prince dc Montlaur, died in Switzerland of a brain 
 disease. From that time she lost all interest in 
 her life, and wished to discontinue her Memoirs. 
 
 It was only her gracious condescension and out 
 of the kindness of her heart that she dictated the 
 few remaining incidents that occurred at the close 
 of her life.] 
 
 If you had not insisted on my writing an account 
 of my visit to the Tuileries, I should have said 
 nothing about it. However, there is no one left 
 who might regret my doing so ; besides, it was a 
 promise to you, and all my life I have kept my 
 promises, and I will not fail to do so to the 
 end. 
 
 The Ahh6 Bourlier came one day and told me 
 that M. de Talleyrand strongly advised every one 
 to enter into friendly relations with the republican 
 Government, and to solicit an audience with the 
 
VISIT t6 the tUILERlfiS 313 
 
 First Consul, with a view to recovering sequestered 
 property. I replied that M, de Talleyrand had 
 better begin by giving back to us the H6tel Crequy 
 in the Rue d'Anjou, which that thoughtful and 
 benevolent ecclesiastic had appropriated for himself 
 He lived for many years in that charming house, 
 and eventually sold it to an Englishman named 
 Crawford. 
 
 The Baron de Breteuil, who since the death 
 of my dear little grandson is my natural heir, 
 advised me to write to Buonaparte, and at last I 
 overcame my just repugnance and agreed to do 
 so, but it was a hard struggle. 
 
 Two days after one of the First Consul's aide- 
 de-camps was announced, and a tall young man 
 entered my drawing-room, and after making me 
 three most ceremonious bows, informed me that 
 the First Consul wished to see me, and would 
 expect me two hours after noon the following day. 
 I was completely taken aback, and replied that I 
 was very weak and very old, but I would do my 
 best, I sent off in haste for the Baron de Breteuil, 
 and asked him his advice as to how I could get 
 out of the trap I had fallen into. He urged me 
 strongly not to fail to respond to the invitation of 
 the chief of the Republic, and he assured me that 
 Madame de Coislin and the Princesse de Guemenee 
 had been to see Buonaparte, and had been received 
 with the greatest politeness. As these ladies had 
 kept their interview a profound secret, there was 
 no reason why I should not do the same. At last, 
 
314 THE FIRST CONSUL [chap, xv 
 
 I must admit, curiosity got the better of me, and 
 1 consented to pay the required visit, 
 
 I remember it was November 12th, and the 
 Consul had just taken up his residence in the 
 Tuileries. The poor old palace looked sadly 
 dilapidated. I had been conveyed there in a sedan 
 chair, and was carried to the door of the salon. 
 Instead of wearing a court robe, as I should have 
 done formerly, and which are equally worn to-day, 
 I was dressed in my every-day costume — a short 
 grey taffeta dress with hood and cloak of the same. 
 
 I was announced as " Citoyenne Cr^quy," and 
 there 1 stood fact; to face with the conqueror of 
 the Pyramids. He looked at me for a minute in 
 silence ; then, with a gentleness I might almost call 
 filial, said, " I greatly desired to see you, Madame 
 la Mar^chale ' — indeed, I insisted. You are one 
 hundred years old, are you not ? " 
 
 " Not quite," I replied. 
 
 "What is your exact age?" 
 
 I felt inclined to laugh at such a question, put 
 in such an imperative tone. " Monsieur," I 
 answered, " I hardly know my exact age — I was 
 born in a Chateau du Maine " 
 
 "Ah! yes,'' he interrupted abruptly, "at that 
 time the civil registers did not exist, or if they 
 did they were very badly kept." Then he continued 
 drily, " Where do you live ? " 
 
 ' Napoleon Buonaparte was fond, when conversing with people, of 
 giving them titles. He always addressed La Galissonnidre, whose only 
 voyages had licen between Calais and Dover, as Monsieur lAmirall 
 
HIS CONVERSATION 315 
 
 " In the H6tel de Crdquy." 
 
 " The devil you do ! Whereabouts is it ? " 
 
 I could not understand why he asked me all 
 these questions, but I was told afterwards he always 
 displayed an incessant curiosity about everybody's 
 affairs. However, I replied that my house was in 
 the Rue de Crenelle. 
 
 " The Rue de Crenelle. You had a riot in 
 your neighbourhood lately. It was about the price 
 of bread. Were you afraid ? " 
 
 " They told me the insurgents were not numerous, 
 so I did not feel alarmed." 
 
 " There will be no riots under my government — 
 at least, none that will be serious. There will be 
 no outcry in the streets, save perhaps a handful 
 of malcontents. France is happy and satisfied. Is 
 it not the case ? " 
 
 "Certainly. Three women shrieking make more 
 noise than three thousand men who hold their 
 tongues." 
 
 "That is so," he said more politely. "You 
 express yourself well." 
 
 " Thank you, Monsieur ; you are very kind." 
 
 " Do you know the Prince de B ? What do 
 
 you think of him ? " 
 
 " That is a very delicate question, Monsieur ; but 
 happily I can answer it, as I do not know him 
 sufficiently to have any opinion about him." 
 
 " He has been mentioned to me in terms of 
 great praise. Is he a sage or a fool .-* " 
 
 " If he is a fool, he is a very wise one." 
 
3i6 BUONAPARTE'S QUESTIONS' [chap. 
 
 '. XV 
 
 This answer pleased him, and he said I had 
 as much wit as wisdom. What do you think of 
 that as a compHment for me, the intimate friend 
 of M. de Penthifevre, Madame de Gisors, and 
 Madame de Marsan ? Poor, ignorant soldier! he 
 did not even know the names of the illustrious 
 persons with whom I had passed my life in that 
 very house. 
 
 It was a wild, wet day, and he expressed regret 
 at having brought me out in such weather. " By 
 the way," he continued, " we see a great deal of a 
 relation of yours." 
 
 " Indeed !" I said, with an air of surprise and in 
 a familiar tone which he did not notice. 
 
 " Yes — Madame de Mirande." He brought this 
 out as if it was something wonderful. 
 
 " I did not know that we were related. I am 
 Duchesse de Mirande in Spain. The mistake may 
 have arisen from that." 
 
 At this remark the First Consul looked very 
 angry, and I was sorry I had said so much. 
 
 "You have seen Louis XIV.," he continued, 
 with a voice almost of exultation. " Have you 
 also seen Peter the Great, Madame ? " 
 
 "1 did not have that honour. At that time I 
 was staying in my country place." 
 
 " 1 know you were a friend of Cardinal Fleury. 
 Is it true that he hoped to secure the imperial 
 crown for Louis XV. ? Did Louis XV. really 
 have any chance of becoming an emperor ? " 
 
 " The matter was nearly settled, general, and 
 
HIS CURIOSITY 317 
 
 every one thought it would succeed, and so it would 
 have, but for the King of Prussia not keeping his 
 word. The Cardinal never forgave him for that." 
 
 " Frederick was cleverer than Fleury, but "not 
 so cunning. Old Fleury was crafty. Are you one 
 of the sufferers from the Revolution ? " This he said 
 with an air of being rather bored, and as if he 
 would prefer not to hear any complaints. 
 
 In as few words as possible I told him about 
 my losses of the forests of Vareilles, Valenciennes, 
 and Saint- Pol. 
 
 " Madame," he replied, " trying to put things 
 right in a time of revolution is like writing on sand. 
 What escapes the wind is washed out by the 
 waves." I will not be certain that these were his 
 exact words, but they convey his meaning. 
 
 I made no reply. 
 
 " Did you know Aguesseau, the chancellor ? " 
 continued Buonaparte." 
 
 " I saw him occasionally, general. He was a friend 
 of my father-in-law." 
 
 " Did you know Dubois and Cartouche?" 
 
 I looked at him in utter amazement. This was 
 too much. But to this day I am astonished that 
 I dared to look at him with the air of severity that 
 I put on. He apparently felt the bad taste, of 
 which he had been guilty, in disturbing the old 
 Marquise de Cr^quy to ask her trivial questions 
 about Cartouche, and he gave me a smile at once 
 so comical and yet so kind he quite disarmed me. 
 
 " Let me kiss your hand," he said. 
 
3i8 BUONAPARTE'S COURTESY [chap, xv 
 
 I tried to take off my mittens, with all the haste 
 suitable to the occasion. 
 
 " Leave them on, Madame," he said, and applied 
 his lips to my poor withered finger-tips. 
 
 With perfect grace he granted me the restitution 
 of our forests, and spoke at some length of the 
 noble conduct of the Due de Crequy de 
 Lesdig^i^res. 
 
 Alas ! that the noble name of Crequy is now 
 borne only by me. 
 
 It will soon be written for the last time and 
 inscribed on a dirty public register among the names 
 of any and every body of whatever condition. Who 
 knows, perhaps alongside of Merlin or Gasparin ? 
 
CONCLUSION 
 
 I have just paid my last visit to Montflaux, and 
 gone my last rounds on my estate — what my poor 
 son used to call the grand tour, taking §hort 
 journeys every day by way of Beauce and return- 
 ing by Vexin-Normand. I travelled through the 
 country of Orl^anais, Dunois, Blaisois, Tourraine, 
 Anjou, Saumurois, and Maine, and I said, " Am 
 I in France ? These are my estates, and the 
 ruins of my chateaux ; but is it still my country, and 
 are the people who surround me the people of 
 France ? " The castles were in ruins, the farms 
 devastated, and the roads desolate. In the towns 
 people were insolent and disagreeable. Faces 
 were sinister — the very children were hostile and 
 depraved. Hatred seemed to be in all hearts and 
 misery everywhere. There does not seem much 
 good in having a revolution ! All the old ramparts, 
 ancient towers, and gates have been demolished — 
 traces of incendiarism everywhere. 
 
 We have nothing left that is historical and 
 national, except our cathedrals. These beautiful 
 places of worship may be profaned, once more men 
 may try and pull down their walls, they may 
 tear down the belfries, and weeds may grow in 
 
 319 
 
320 CONCLUSION 
 
 the aisles, the vault above our heads may 
 crumble ; but the holy sanctuary is indestructible, 
 ct firmatus est fundamento civitatis Dei nostri. 
 I'Vance needed the terrible ordeal of being bathed 
 in her own blood. The impieties and scandals of 
 the Regency, the doctrines of the philosophers, and 
 the last years of Louis XV. worked her dissolution. 
 
 Providence has, I firmly believe, raised up Buona- 
 parte to dissipate the illusions of the revolutionists, 
 and to exterminate the cut-throats. But you will 
 see that Buonaparte will not last long. God knows 
 if this man, powerful and victorious as he is, may 
 not yet meet with chastisement. If it be so, the 
 descendants of Saint Louis may once more be 
 permitted to reign over us. What is victory ? 
 What is strength ? What is human glory ? 
 
 The laurels are a perfect symbol : they throw a 
 grateful shade for a moment, and then wither away. 
 
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INDEX 
 
 Aguesseau, Chancellor d', 317 
 
 Mile, d', 71 
 
 Aiguillon, Due d', 261 
 Alez, Marquis d', 288, 284 
 Argenson, M. d', 54, 88 
 Armagnac, Mile, d', 56, 59 
 Arouet, 81, 107 
 Madame, 81 
 
 Barry, Madame du, 184, 290 
 Beauffremont, Marquise de, 60, 
 
 62, 89 
 Beauharnais, General, 296 
 
 Vicomtesse, 295, 297 
 
 Beaumont, Abb6, 106 
 Bellisle, Due de, 95, 116, 125 
 Berry, Duehesse de, 30, 83, 84 
 Bezuehet, Nicholas, 270, 274, 275 
 Blot, Comtesse de, 133, 135 
 Boccage, Madame de, 144 
 Bouillon, Due de, 267 
 
 Duehesse de, 286 
 
 Boulainville, Madame de, 138 
 Braneas, M. de, I37 
 Breteuils, 31, 34, 38, 76, 78 
 
 Baron de, 266, 313 
 
 Buonaparte, Napoleon, 313, 320 
 
 Campan, Madame, 265 
 Canaples, 16, 17 
 Cartouche, 54, 60, 317 
 Cathelineau, 307 
 Cazotte, 249 
 Chabrillon, M. de, 115 
 
 Charette, Chevalier de, 307 
 Chatelet, Marquise de, 34, 36 
 
 Due de, 36 
 
 Chimay, Princesse de, 260 
 Choiseul, Duehesse de, 295, 311 
 Clermont-Tonnerre, Madame de, 
 
 254 
 Constant, Benjamin, 199 
 Conty, Prineesse de, 21 
 Cornuel, Madame, 43, 44 
 Cr6quy, Madame du Muy, 303 
 Cr6quy, Marquis de, 27, 74, 76, 77, 
 
 79, 83, 85, 92, 103, 127 
 Cr6quy, Tanerfede Raoul de, 312 
 
 Dampierre, Abb6 de, 279, 298 
 Dasny, 302 
 Dauphin, 176, 179 
 Deffand, Madame du, 109 
 Denys, Madame, 215, 223, 234 
 Deslon, Dr., 247 
 Devonshire, Duchess of, 249 
 Dupont, 203, 272, 277, 279, 294, 
 
 298, 301 
 Duvivier, 295 
 
 Egmont, Madame d', 67, 117, 121, 
 
 126 
 Elboeuf, Madame d', 67 
 
 Ferte, Duehesse de la, 56, 86 
 Fleury, Cardinal de, 316 
 
 Duehesse de, 252 
 
 Franklin, Benjamin, 189 
 
 3»3 
 
'■■:m