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MEMOIRS AND LETTERS 
 
 OF 
 
 CARDINAL DE BERNIS 
 
 Volume I. 
 
VERSAILLES EDirieN 
 
 Limited to Eight Hundred Numbered Sets, of which 
 this is I 
 
 No.X)^k 
 
A t CoXlet. 
 
MEM'OIRS *-NO ^ -/ITERS 
 
MEMOIRS AND LETTERS 
 
 OF 
 
 CARDINAL DE BERNIS 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION 
 
 BY 
 
 C.-A. SAINTE-BEUVE 
 KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY. 
 
 « 9 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH PORTRAITS FROM THE ORIGINAL. 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 HARDY, PRATT & COMPANY. 
 
 1901. 
 
Copyright 1901, 
 By Hardy, Pratt & Company. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 Y 
 
 John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U. S. A. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 Introduction by C.-A. Sainte-Beuvb on the Abbi^ and 
 
 Cardinal de Bernis, Madame de Pompadour, and 
 
 THE state of France under Louis XV 1 
 
 Translator's Note 79 
 
 Memoirs : Letter of Cardinal de Bernis to his Niece, 
 
 THE Marquise de Puy-Montbrun 81 
 
 ^mt iFtrst 
 
 CHAPTER L — 1715-1735. 
 
 My Birth. — Childhood. •— Education. — My coming to Paris. — En- 
 trance at the Seminary. — My Journey to Langnedoc. — Return to 
 Paris in 1735 85 
 
 CHAPTER n. — 1735-1744. 
 
 Manners and Morals of the Age. — Cardinal de Flenry. — Cardinal de 
 Polignac. — My Journey to Auvergne and Languedoc in 1739. — 
 Return to Paris in 1741. — The Bishop of Mirepoix. — My Entrance 
 to the French Academy in 1744. — Men of Letters. — Women. — 
 The Great Seigneurs 112 
 
 CHAPTER IIL — 1745-1751. 
 
 The year 1745. — The Campaign of Fontenoy. — A few important 
 Events. — The year 1748. — The state of Affairs from the Peace of 
 Aix-la-Chapelle to 1751. — The Ministers in office till 1751. — My 
 situation in 1751. — A Conversation with Monsieur de Puysieux , 150 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. — 1752-1755. 
 
 Page 
 
 That which preceded my Departure for Venice. — My DeTiut there. — 
 
 The foreign Ministers resident in Venice. — Affairs which I nego- 
 tiated during my Embassy. — Some interesting Particulars. — Jour- 
 ney to Parma early in 1755. — Return to Paris in June, 1755. — 
 State of the Court and Country in 1755 172 
 
 CHAPTER v. — 1755. 
 
 The Situation of Madame de Pompadour in 1755. — Capture of the 
 Vessels, " Alcide " and " Lys." — My Appointment to the Spanish 
 Embassy. — Secret Proposals of the Co'urt of Vienna, September, 
 1755. — My first Conference with the Austrian Ambassador. — Ac- 
 count rendered by me to the King of the Memorial of Vienna. — 
 Continuation of the Negotiations. — First Secret Committee on the 
 Vienna affair. — Affairs of Vienna, Berlin, and Dresden. — My 
 own position 195 
 
 CHAPTER VI. — 1755-1756. 
 
 The Affair of the Requisition, and that of Minorca. — Continuation of 
 Negotiations with Vienna. — The Treaty of Versailles. — Publica- 
 tion of the Treaty in July, 1756. — Further Negotiations with the 
 Court of Vienna. — The King of Prussia assembles his Forces, and 
 threatens an Invasion of Saxony and Bohemia 220 
 
 CHAPTER VII. — 1732-1758. 
 Affairs of Parliament and what related thereto during my Ministry . 246 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. — 1757. 
 
 That which happened a few Days after my Entrance into the Council 
 of State. — The Crime of Damiens. — The Dismissal of Messieurs 
 d'Argenson and de Machault. — The Conclusion of definite Arrange- 
 ments with the Court of Vienna 271 
 
CONTENTS. Vii 
 
 CHAPTER IX.— 1757. 
 
 Page 
 The Comte de Stainville and the Embassy to Vienna. — My Appoint- 
 ment to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. — Intrigues to remove 
 Mardchal d'Estr^es from the Command of the Army. — Negotia- 
 tions of the Duke of Cumberland with Marechal de Richelieu. — 
 That of the King of Prussia with the same. — That of the 
 Margravine of Bayreuth with me 296 
 
 APPENDIXES. 
 
 I. Expedition to Minorca 317 
 
 II. Tkeatt of Versailles 321 
 
 III . Speech op Looia XV. to Parliament 325 
 
 INDEX 327 
 
LIST OF 
 PHOTOGRAVURE ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Faoii 
 
 Caedinal db Bbenis . . '. Frontispiece 
 
 By Callet (Antoine-Fian9ois). In possession of the family. 
 
 iNTSODCCnOH. 
 
 Mme. db Fomfadoub 26 
 
 By La Tour (Maurice Quentin de) ; Versailles. 
 Cha?teb 
 
 11. Cabdinal de Polignac 126 
 
 By Bigaud; Louvre. 
 
 HI. Matirice de Saxb, Comte and Mae^chal 155 
 
 By Liotard (Jean-£tienne) ; Dresden. 
 
 V. Makia Theeesa, Empebss-Queen 204 
 
 From a print from a portrait at Versailles. 
 
 VI. Joseph Paeis, called Paeis-Duveenet ....... 221 
 
 By Van Loo (Carl); Portraits Nationaux. 
 
 VIII. Caedinal de Beenis (Peofilb) 284 
 
 In the Cabinet des Estampes, Paris. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Bt c-a. saintb-bexjve. 
 
 In the last century when young Frenchmen went to Rome, 
 where Cardinal de Bernis resided as ambassador of France 
 from 1769, and where he died in 1794, one of their chief de- 
 sires was to be presented to him ; and the first thing they 
 usually found to say was to thank him for the pleasure his 
 pretty verses had afforded them ; on which they were much 
 surprised that the prelate did not answer their compliments as 
 they expected, and that he kept aU his amiability and charm 
 for other topics of conversation. I shall not imitate those 
 yoimg Frenchmen of 1780, and shall carefully avoid the 
 mistake into which they fell. There are very distinct periods 
 to be observed when we speak of Bernis ; he was not cardinal 
 until he was forty-three years old, and he did not really 
 take Orders until he was forty. Up to that time he was an 
 abb^ as many men were in those days, having the title and a 
 few benefices ; but he was not bound to the profession ; he 
 was not a priest in any degree ; and in 1755, at the age of 
 forty, we shall see him hesitate much before taking the step 
 of which he felt the danger, and from which his delicacy as 
 an honest man had hitherto deterred him. " I have bound 
 myself to my profession," he writes to Paris-Duvemey 
 (April 19, 1755), " and I have taken the step after so much 
 reflection that I hope I shall never repent it." 
 
 As for his gay little verses, they belong to his youth ; he 
 had ceased to make them before he was thirty-five years old. 
 
 TOL. I. — 1 
 
2 INTEODUCTION. 
 
 " I have totally abandoned poetry for the last eleven years," 
 he writes to Voltaire in 1761. " I knew that my little talent 
 injured me in my profession and at Court ; I ceased to prac- 
 tise it without regret, because I did not think much of it, and 
 I have never liked whatever was mediocre. I write no more 
 verses and I read few, unless they are, like yours, full of soul, 
 strength, and harmony ; I prefer history." It is necessary, 
 therefore, in speaking of Bernis to mark his epochs distinctly, 
 if we desire to be just towards one of the most graceful and 
 most polished minds of the last century, towards a man of 
 real capacity more extensive than people think, a man who 
 knew how to redeem his literary weaknesses and his political 
 pliancy by a decent and useful middle-age and by an honour- 
 able end. Documents recently issuing from the archives of 
 the Vatican cast light upon the second half of his career, 
 while he was ambassador of France in Eome. To these I 
 shall presently refer ; but first I desire to speak of the more 
 frivolous Abbd de Bernis, from whom we shall see the serious 
 man insensibly emerging. 
 
 He was born at Saint-Marcel d'Ardfeche in Vivarais, May 
 22, 1715, of an ancient race of high nobility. As a younger 
 son he was destined for the Church. He came to Paris 
 for his first studies at the Jesuit college (Louis-le-Grand), 
 and he did his philosophy and his theology at the sem- 
 inary of Saint-Sulpice and the Sorbonne. We find him 
 successively canon and Comte de Brioude, canon and Comte 
 de Lyon, that is to say, a member of chapters for which he 
 was required to give proofs of very ancient nobility ; these 
 positions were for him merely honorary. While awaiting 
 benefices which did not come (having only a very insignifi- 
 cant one at Boulogne-sur-mer) the Abb^-Comte de Bernis 
 entered society, for which he was made, especially that portion 
 of it which is called the great world, but in it he lived as 
 
INTRODUCTION. 3 
 
 poor as the poorest of new-comers. Diderot speaks somewhere 
 of dinners he more than once ate with him at six sous 
 a head. For years Bernis supported gaily and with indiffer- 
 ence this cramped condition, this contrast between his tastes 
 and his situation, between all that he saw and did not 
 have. But his soul "was brave and gentle," and youth, 
 that ready and easy consoler, stood him in place of all ; no 
 man was ever made to enjoy more than he ; all contempo- 
 raries tell us of the advantages of his person and the charms 
 of his face. " I always remember your grace, your fine coun- 
 tenance, and your mind," wrote Voltaire many years later. 
 Duclos, his friend, one of those who have spoken best of him, 
 and whose habitual harshness softens to depict him, says : 
 " From birth an amiable face, a candid countenance, much 
 intelligence, charm, a sound judgment, and a trusty character 
 made all societies seek him ; he lived pleasantly with them 
 all." Marmontel also, less agreeable in this than Duclos, and 
 with less variety of tone, tells us that " the Abb^ de Ber- 
 nis, escaping from the seminary of Saint-Sulpice, where he 
 succeeded ill, was a gallant poet, very plump, very rosy, very 
 dainty, who, together with Gentil-Bernard, amused the joyous 
 suppers of Paris with his pretty verses.'' That rotund and 
 ample figure, that handsome rounded face and triple chin 
 which strike us in the portraits of Bernis as an old man, 
 came to him rather early in life; but at first something 
 childlike and delicate mingled with them, and always, even 
 to the last, his profile kept its distinction and elegance ; the 
 forehead and eyes were very fine. 
 
 He began by making verses to his "Dieux Penates" 
 (1736), as Gresset did upon his " Chartreuse." These verses 
 of Bernis, done at twenty-one years of age, have all Gresset's 
 defects ; they have also his facility and his flow of language. 
 Already we see the Cupids and Zephyrs which pervade 
 
4 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Bemis, and made d'Alembert say that "if you cut their 
 wings you cut their vitals." 
 
 " Mais qu'une Sagesse sterile 
 N'occupe jamais mes loisirs ; 
 Que toujours ma muse fertile 
 Imite, en variant son style, 
 Le vol inconstant des Zephyrs." 
 
 Bemis in his best moments has a certain harmonious 
 languor, but the tender note is soon lost, drowned in a 
 dainty but insipid warbling. We can scarcely find any of 
 his lines to quote in the midst of this abundant and monot- 
 onous superfluity ; for if he has an occasional turn to revery 
 and sentiment in his poems, he is wholly wanting in ideas 
 and invention. In a few of his " Epistles " there are some 
 rather pretty passages on Ambition, or on Laziaess, which 
 
 picture him. 
 
 " Qui salt, au printemps de son Sge, 
 Souffrir lea maux avec courage 
 A bien des droits sur les plaisirs. 
 
 Pourqnoi chercher si loin la gloire ? 
 Le plaisir est si pres de nous 1 " 
 
 The tone is always and everywhere the same. In this very 
 " Epistle on Laziness," the only one which La Harpe singled 
 out, we see Bemis graceful, natural, but without force, without 
 any loftuiess of purpose, without ideal. In his opening poem, 
 " To my Penates," he had spoken rather severely of Voltaire, 
 apostrophizing him as a brilliant mind then in its decadence ; 
 he soon abandoned this youthful judgment ; they grew at- 
 tached, and Voltaire, while applauding and caressing htm, 
 
 gave him one of those nicknames he excelled in finding, 
 
 nicknames which comprise a whole judgment. Bemis had 
 made a string of descriptive verses called " The Four Parts of 
 a Day," following it with another string (I dare not say of 
 
INTRODUCTION. 5 
 
 poems) called " The Four Seasons." These verses ohtamed 
 in society an immense success, which, later, evaporated com- 
 pletely. Bernis had put into them even more than his wont 
 of flowers, garlands, posies ; whereupon Voltaire called him, 
 speaking to Bernis himself, " la beUe Babet," and speaking 
 to others, " the big Babet," — Babet being a flower-girl then 
 in vogue, a vender of what is called " The Four Seasons." 
 
 Let us not be unjust nor too rigorous to Bernis ; he 
 judged himself as a man of taste, a man of sense, and as if 
 there were nothing of the poet in him. Voltaire, who gave 
 him the pretty and malicious nickname, was the first, years 
 after, to flatter him about his verses and to play the role of 
 tempter. In 1763, Bernis, after his ministry, being in exile 
 and in political disgrace, some enemy hoping to injure him, 
 or some greedy publisher, reprinted his " Four Seasons " with 
 the title " By M. le C. de B." « I do not know," writes 
 Voltaire, liking to harp upon the topic, " who wrote those 
 'Four Seasons;' the titlepage says, 'By M. le C. de B.' 
 Apparently that is Cardinal de Bembo; they say that car- 
 dinal is the most agreeable man in the world ; he has loved 
 literature all his life ; it increases his pleasures, also people's 
 respect for him, and it softens his griefs — if he has any." 
 At other times he returns to his recollections of Babet, " fill- 
 ing her beautiful basket with that profusion of flowers ; " he 
 jokes, teases, and turns criticism into praise. Bernis is 
 grateful for the intention, but does not allow himself to be 
 taken in by it. 
 
 " As for Babet's ' Seasons ' " he replies, " I hear they are 
 dreadfully mangled ; I have not seen them" these twenty 
 years. After my death, some charitable soul wUl purify 
 those amusements of my youth, which have been cruelly 
 ill-used, and mixed up with all sorts of platitudes. As for 
 me, I laugh at the trouble people give themselves uselessly 
 
6 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 to set traps for me. They think to ruin me by proving that 
 I wrote verses till I was thirty-two [elsewhere he says 
 thirty-five] ; they do me only honour ; I wish with all my 
 heart I had the talent as I still have the taste for poesy ; 
 but I like better to read yours than I did to make mine. If 
 you want me to teU you my secret wholly, it is that I 
 renounced making verses when I saw that I could not be 
 superior in an art which excludes mediocrity." 
 
 It would be ungracious, after such a judgment, so full of 
 sense and candour, to give ourselves the easy pleasure of 
 laughing at Bernis for his poetry. 
 
 In those days, and in spite of compliments, all sorts of 
 criticism were made 'to him. " I am asked," he writes in 
 1741, " how it is possible that a man bom to live in the great 
 world should amuse himself in writing, and in becoming 
 an author." To these critics, great seigneurs and men of 
 rank, he answers that " if it is not shameful to know how 
 to think it certainly is not so to know how to write ; and it 
 is not the making of books that dishonours' a man, but the 
 melancholy habit of making bad ones." With regard espe- 
 cially to writing poetry, Bernis thus reflects : " It is difficult 
 to be young and live in Paris without having a desire to 
 make verses," and he thinks, as to such as are made with 
 more or less talent, that it does not follow that such talent 
 brings with it all the extravagances that render certain 
 versifiers ridiculous. "Happy they," he cries with feeling 
 and truth, " happy they who have received a talent which 
 follows them everywhere, which, in silence and solitude, 
 brings before their eyes all that absence had made them 
 lose; which lends a body and colours to all that breathes, 
 which gives to the world inhabitants whom the vulgar 
 mind ignores." 
 
 This pronounced literary taste, which was, as it were, the 
 
INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 advertisement of a careless and worldly life, did Bemis much 
 harm in his career. Cardinal de Fleury, a friend of his fam- 
 ily, sent for him and told him that if he continued in that 
 course he must expect nothing so long as he, Cardinal de 
 Fleury lived. On which Bemis bowed humbly and made 
 his well-known speech: " Monseigneur, I will wait." In 
 quoting it, some persons have supposed that it was said in 
 after years to Boyer, Bishop of Mirepois, minister of bene- 
 fices ; this is an error, which takes from the saying its point 
 and its vengeance. It can only have its true value when 
 addressed by a very young man to a very old prime-minister 
 who forgot his age at the moment. 
 
 Bernis, man of society, of agreeable conversation, and of safe 
 and brilliant intercourse, to which his ambition seemed lim- 
 ited, was early known to Mme. de Pompadour ; he was in 
 favoiu: with her as well as with the king, but he had never 
 as yet obtained anything towards making his fortune. It 
 was the French Academy that opened his way to it. He 
 was elected a member at the close of 1744, that is to say, 
 when he was twenty-nine years of age. He succeeded the 
 Abb^ GMoyn, and was received on the same day as the 
 Abb^ Girard, the grammarian. In his speech of thanks he 
 refers modestly to his youth, which, " far from doing him an 
 injury, had spoken in his favour." He says a few words on 
 the usefulness of relations between men of the world and 
 men of letters ; on the advantages the language had gained 
 from such relations since the days of the La Eochefoucaulds, 
 the Saint-Evremonds, and the Bussys; adding that it was 
 on the footing of their successor that he himself was now 
 entering the Company. Cr^billon, the tragic writer, who 
 received him, merely gave him this vague eulogy : " Your 
 genius has so far seemed to turn chiefly to poesy." In the 
 years that followed his reception, Bemis figures more than 
 
8 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 once at the head of the Academy on the solemn occasions 
 when it was required to appear at Versailles. The Society- 
 chose him as a face and subject agreeable to the king. 
 
 His friends say that at this period he aspired only to 
 obtaining, by means of a few petty benefices, the modest 
 sum of six thousand francs a year, which he thought would 
 make him happy for life. But Boyer, Bishop of Mirepoix, 
 who was minister of benefices after Cardinal de Fleury's 
 death, resisted the entreaties of all Bernis' friends, even the 
 most powerful : he made a condition (which to us, in these 
 days, seems quite reasonable) that Bernis should bind him- 
 self seriously to his profession, should cease to be an abb^ in 
 name only, and become a priest. Bernis, from conscience 
 and a sense of his want of strength, recoiled and delayed ; 
 his habits and morals were of his age and of his time ; his 
 heart and mind had nothing irreligious ia them; but the 
 prospect of a bishopric, which he was allowed to look 
 for at the cost of external sacrifices was more calculated 
 to frighten than to tempt him. 
 
 " No, you know too well my honour : 
 Culpable, perhaps, through frailty, 
 But an enemy to imposture. 
 I will not add impiety 
 To the weaknesses of nature." 
 
 That is what he said to his friend the Due de Nivernais, in 
 an " Epistle on Ambition." 
 
 More than that : Bernis, before this period, and as far 
 back as 1737, had undertaken, by advice of Cardinal de 
 Polignac (with whom he had more than one tie of nature, ' 
 frailty, and genius), a serious poem, finished in later years and 
 sumptuously printed after his death (Parma, 1795), entitled 
 " Eeligion Avenged." In this poem, which in truth is not a 
 poem at all, and is destitute of invention like aU. Bernis' 
 
INTRODUCTION. 9 
 
 work, are some very good philosophical verses, a clear expo- 
 sition and a judicious and rather vigorous refutation of the 
 systems of Lucretius, Pyrrho, and Spinoza. I have all my 
 life remembered the following lines, which are not the only 
 ones that might be quoted: — 
 
 " God, universal Father, watches o'er every species; 
 The universe is subject to the laws of his wisdom ; 
 From man it descends to the vilest gnat ; 
 It needed God himself to create a worm." 
 
 But in spite of these attempts at sincere conversion and 
 this confession of principles, Bernis had the honesty not to 
 take advantage of them, but to confess his weakness, even to 
 Boyer ; consequently, his fortunes did not advance. It was 
 then that Louis XV., tired of the struggle, gave him a pen- 
 sion of fifteen hundred francs a year and a lodging under the 
 eaves of the Tuileries ; up to this time, Bernis had lived in 
 the house of one of his relatives, the Baron de Montmorency. 
 One day when Bernis was coming from Mme. de Pompadour's 
 apartment carrying imder his arm a roll of chintz which she 
 had given him to furnish his new apartment, he met the 
 king on the staircase; his Majesty insisted on knowing 
 what he was carrying ; he was forced to show the chintz and 
 explain its purpose. " Very well," said Louis XV., putting a 
 roll of louis into his hand, " she has given you the drapery, 
 here 's for the nails." 
 
 Nevertheless, impatience came to Bernis at last, and, 
 according to the witty remark of Duclos, seeing that he had 
 so much trouble in making a small fortune, he resolved on 
 attempting to make a large one : it proved much easier to 
 do. He began by being sent as ambassador to Venice 
 in 1752. Many things, more or less romantic, were written 
 and printed in which Bernis' name was mixed up at the 
 date of this embassy; we will confine ourselves to those 
 
10 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 which are open to honourable men. We have his corre- 
 spondence with Paris-Duverney during those years; it is 
 whoUy to his honour, and it begins to make him known to 
 us on his political and serious side. Paris-Duverney, a 
 superior man with administrative capacity of the first order 
 and a singular talent for matters of war, was already in 
 semi-retirement ; he was then almost exclusively employed 
 in realizing his last patriotic thought, — that of the establish- 
 ment of the Ecole Militaire. We know that he was one 
 of the great protectors of Beaumarchais in his opening 
 career; we now find him tenderly allied with Bernis, in 
 whom he recognizes talent and a future. In their corre- 
 spondence the latter enters into the details of his life as 
 an ambassador : " My house is decent, well-furnished, and 
 nothing shows the younger son of Gascony. I try at the 
 same time to keep it orderly." Like all Prenohmen absent 
 from Paris he feels a void ; he complains of his languishing 
 life and regrets society : " However, if one is ever happy 
 having nothing to do and living with people who have 
 nothing to do, I am. Nothing is lackrag to my peace and, 
 I dare to say it, to the consideration that is shown to me ; 
 but I need a little more food for my mind." Above all, 
 he regrets his Saturdays, the day of the week which he was 
 wont to spend in Paris with Duverney. " If my Saturdays 
 were only preserved to me," he writes, " I should applaud 
 myself for having taken a course which will daily become 
 more and more advantageous for me, but will never be of 
 any use to the king so long as I stay in a place where 
 there is nothiag to do." 
 
 This inaction, which he felt from the first, was to grow 
 more and more into a burden upon him ; and it was thus 
 that ennui ended, little by little, by inoculating him with 
 ambition. Meanwhile, he talks with his friend, speaks of 
 
INTEODUCTION. 11 
 
 that whicli interests the latter most, his dear foundation, 
 that Ecole Militaire about which Duverney encountered 
 such obstacles at its outset. The worthy founder replies 
 with beautiful and noble words on this subject, which reveal, 
 even under the reign of Louis XV., the heart of a citizen. 
 I wish to quote a few of them ; be it only to bring morality 
 into my topic, the begumings of which have been a little 
 enervating : — 
 
 " What you tell me, monsieur," writes Duverney to Bernis, 
 " of the opinion of foreigners on this establishment is little 
 fitted to moderate my impatience ; I still have much eager- 
 ness in these matters, which contribute to the glory of our 
 master and the good of the nation. . . . Objections have 
 never repulsed me. It is usual for great enterprises to be 
 thwarted. Experience has also taught me that the value 
 of great things is never better known than to those who 
 have not seen them born. We praise, we admire to-day 
 what was blamed formerly. Under M. de Louvois the 
 friends of M. Colbert said that the H5tel Eoyal des In- 
 valides was only a humiliating hospital for soldiers ; to-day, 
 lieutenant-colonels do not blush to retire there. Under 
 Mme. de Maintenon it was asserted that the proofs of pov- 
 ■ erty required for admission to Saint Cyr would alienate the 
 nobles ; to-day, nobles in easy circumstances are not ashamed 
 to say that they are poor in order to gain admission for 
 their daughters, who, beneath that brown woollen gown 
 which formerly seemed so repulsive, are showing more van- 
 ity and pride than is desirable. Time removes objects 
 from passions that obscure them ; and, when they are good 
 in themselves, we come at last to seeing only that good." 
 
 Bernis is worthy of this generous intercourse to which 
 friendship invites him; he encourages his friend, he com- 
 forts him with affectionate warmth: "I would fain gather 
 
12 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 all good hearts to give them to yoiL" He desires to be in 
 a position to defend him against the injustices and the dis- 
 likes that begin to overwhelm him: "Would to God that 
 I were within reach of bearing testimony to the truth ! with 
 what pleasure should I render an account of the sorrows 
 of the friend and citizen of which I have been the witness 
 and the repository ! " Here Bernis rises to ideas which are 
 by no means foreign to him, although we are not accustomed 
 to associate them with his name ; he speaks in accents that 
 come from his soul : — 
 
 " If men were not ungrateful," he says ; " I would forgive 
 the folly, inconsistency, ill-temper, and all the other imper- 
 fections that certainly degrade humanity ; but it is hard not 
 to gather the fruits of our benefactions ! it is the sower sow- 
 ing his seed on stony groimd. However, in spite of that 
 ingratitude, there are superior souls who desire to make the 
 happiness of men without expecting other reward than that 
 of being satisfied with themselves." 
 
 In another place he says : — 
 
 " If you were reasonable only you would not be so great a 
 citizen ; zeal must face obstacles which reason tells us to 
 avoid. As for me, I think that what brings ruin on States 
 is the so-called wisdom attributed to those who dare not run 
 the risks that always attend the effort to procure the greatest 
 possible good. We are too anxious to make our fortune in 
 these days, and too fearful of losing it when made : this is 
 the xmiversal evil which is now afflicting Europe ; for, thank 
 God, whatever may be said, we are not the only ones who 
 deserve blame. You see, monsieur, that, in spite of myself, 
 moral ideas are getting possession of me ; that is the malady 
 of those who are nearly always in solitude." 
 
 These letters of Bernis and Duverney, which have nothing 
 very interesting in their topics, and which were printed in 
 
INTRODUCTION. 13 
 
 1790 with the most ridiculous and impertinent notes that 
 can be imagined, are curious when read, as I have read 
 them, from the point of view of biography and a knowl- 
 edge of the two characters. While we feel in Duvemey a 
 grandeur of soul accompanied by kindness and even bon- 
 homie, the temperate, noble, human, and fairly elevated 
 character of Bernis comes forth naturally; his mind gives 
 glimpses of shades and perceptions of delicacy. Thus, 
 speaking of one of their mutual friends who, under critical 
 circumstances, had written to Duverney a letter couched in 
 a semblance of philosophy and of a nature to cause delusion, 
 he says: "The philosophical spirit that is now spreading 
 over the surface of the world makes it difficult to distin- 
 guish at first sight fools from wise men, or honest men from 
 rascals. Every one seems rich because every one has silver 
 or false coin ; but a few days suffice to distinguish the one 
 from the other." This shrewd remark of Bernis on the 
 varnish of the philosophical spirit which was everywhere at 
 that time, applies to-day to many another varnish, equally 
 wide-spreading, — varnish of talent, varnish of mind, varnish 
 of judgment. Each man takes his varnish every morning on 
 readiug his newspaper; the journalist has taken his the 
 night before ; the dye of the one colours the other ; in 
 twelve hours every one repeats himself. Where is the real 
 spirit, the new and original judgment? And how much 
 time and how many occasions are required to test and dis- 
 tinguish them. A few days do not suffice, as Bernis may 
 then have thought. 
 
 Bernis never became a great directing minister. Could 
 he have been one ? I do not know. Fate did not give him 
 time to repair his mistakes or correct his hazardous under- 
 takings; but Bernis was always an excellent ambassador; 
 he had insinuation, conciliation, courtesy; he represented 
 
14 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 his position with, taste and magnificence ; he -will always be 
 the model of a French ambassador in Eome, such as he was 
 for twenty years. It was in Venice that he served his 
 apprenticeship, at any rate for externals, public affairs being 
 almost nothing there. " As this embassy," he remarks, " is 
 more for show than for necessity, it is sometimes thought 
 that any one is fitted for it ; in which they are hugely mis- 
 taken ; " and he defines admirably the qualities that are es- 
 sential in the representative of the king if he desires to be 
 respected in a post of this kind. Let him speak for himself, 
 for we cannot say the thing as well as he : — 
 
 "When we have business to negotiate with a foreign 
 Court, it is the manner in which it is conducted that fixes 
 the attention and decides the esteem in which we are held. 
 But when there is nothing to negotiate or disentangle with 
 a Court, we are judged by our personality ; thus it requires 
 great attention to avoid the censure of a crowd of inquisitive 
 and penetrating observers, who are seeking to unravel your 
 character and your principles, while you yourself are wholly 
 imable to divert their attention. If the king desires to 
 make his crown and his nation respected in Venice, he must 
 always send here a man of common-sense ; that wiU suf&ce, 
 provided he is a man with a lofty soul and decent manners 
 for it is impossible to awe a very libertine nation, I might 
 even say a debauched one, except by the opposite morals." 
 
 Such words are noteworthy on Bernis' lips. Did he 
 justify them in aU respects ? At any rate he could not 
 better show the value which he placed on esteem, and 
 from that period he knew how to obtain it, no matter what 
 the secret chronicles may say. 
 
 Nevertheless the two years and a half that Bernis spent 
 in Venice seemed to him extremely long. He felt that his 
 Versailles friends would not leave him there eternally ; he had 
 
INTRODUCTION. 15 
 
 the vague but certain hope of a future return : " My greatest 
 pain is that of aspiring to be useful, to open modestly a way 
 to it, yet to be ever driven back into inaction and uselessness ; 
 so much for my moral condition." Physically his health 
 suffered for want of ezercise ; his size increased and gout at- 
 tacked his knees. It was then that ambition came to him ; 
 from the moment that he ceased to be a private individual, 
 enjoying as he pleased the charms and pleasures of society, 
 he could only be a busy and useful public man ; he sums up 
 this alternative in admirable terms : " To be fi-ee and master of 
 one's leisure, or to fiU one's time with labours of which the 
 State shall reap the fruits — these are the two positions an 
 honest man should desire ; a medium career is nothingness." 
 
 Certain ministers at Versailles, who feared his return, set 
 traps for him ; they employed all kinds of manoeuvres to keep 
 him fixed in this lagune. " I see plainly," he says, " that by 
 their tricks they wiU find a way to make me stay with my 
 arms folded in this cul-de-sac." Duverney counsels and 
 calms him under these attacks of impatience, which are always 
 tempered in Bernis with philosophy, and never go so far as 
 irritation. " All things here below depend on circumstances," 
 writes Duverney, " and circumstances have such frequent 
 revolutions that the wisest thing to do is to prepare ourselves 
 to take advantage of them the moment they tm-n our way. 
 It is almost always dangerous to try to force them ; nothing 
 is gained but torments, which increase as our hopes retreat ; 
 and we pass our lives without a moment of real satisfaction. 
 We should always be ready to act, but force nothing ..." 
 
 Money was a great torment to Bernis ; he had nothing but 
 his salary, and the first year of his embassy he spent twenty- 
 three thousand francs beyond it. German princes and 
 princesses and personages of mark were ceaselessly passing 
 through Venice on their way to Italy, and had to be entertained. 
 
16 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 In November, 1754, the Due de Penthi^vre arrived at the em- 
 bassy with his suite and lodged there thirteen days. " I got 
 through with this embarrassment very well," says Bernis 
 gallantly, " after many expenses, incurred in profusion, but 
 without extravagance ; and there remains to me the friendship 
 of a ]prince honest man, and the satisfaction of having con- 
 tented all the ranks of his household." Duverney takes 
 upon himself to further Bernis' interests at Court ; the only 
 urgent thing is pecuniary help. If some good abbey should 
 fall vacant it would be a great point to obtain it. As for 
 better political places, it is agreed between the two friends 
 that it would be wiser to press nothing ; the agreement is : 
 " In regard to places, one should know how to raise the siege 
 when they defend themselves too long." On this point 
 Bernis has firm tactics, a gentle and insiQuating method, 
 namely : " Never to take places by assault, and never to re- 
 fuse those that surrender of themselves." Finally, the end of 
 his apprenticeship arrives, and Bernis, recalled to Paris, sets 
 out for France at the close of April, 1755. 
 
 Duclos, Bernis' friend and confidant, has very well de- 
 scribed to us the employment of his life during these years 
 that are now to be so busy. This was the moment when the 
 alliance was closely formed between France and Austria, and 
 the Treaty of Versailles was conceived and discussed secretly. 
 Bernis, though not yet minister, was the principal agent, the 
 confidential plenipotentiary ; he debated and settled the arti- 
 cles with the Imperial Ambassador, M. de Staremberg. 
 Persons have done Bernis the honour to attribute to him the 
 first idea of this treaty which upset the policy of Richelieu 
 and changed the system of continental alliances in Europe. 
 They have done more, they have gone so far as to say that 
 in thus taking sides with Austria against Prussia it was the 
 poet, the rhymester within him that sought revenge. Fred- 
 
liJTRODUCTION. 17 
 
 erick the Great at the end of an "Epistle" to Comte Gotter, 
 in which he describes the infinite details of human industry 
 and labour had said : — 
 
 " I have not described all ; for the matter 's immense, 
 And I leave to Comte Bernis his barren abundance." 
 
 It has been supposed that Bernis knew of this " Epistle " and 
 that those lines were the motive that made him coimsel the 
 powers at Versailles to abandon the King of Prussia and ally 
 themselves with the Empress. Turgot, in certain anonymous 
 verses which went the rounds of Paris and vividly exposed 
 the withering disasters with which the Seven Years' War 
 was afflicting France, exclaimed : — 
 
 " Bernis, have you victims enough V 
 And a king's contempt for your little rhymes — 
 Is it duly avenged ? " 
 
 But in this explanation, since so constantly repeated, nothing 
 is correct; the grave Turgot imagined a gratuitous cause, 
 and if petty motives did indeed contribute to produce those 
 great calamities, Bernis at least had no cause to blush for so 
 mean and miserable a motive as that of which he is accused. 
 Bernis had no rancour of that kind against the Great Frederick, 
 and his heart of an honest man was far higher placed than 
 that. Algarotti, who had known him when ambassador in 
 Venice, wrote to the King of Prussia (January 11, 1754): 
 " I see quite often the French ambassador, who is well-fitted 
 to represent the most agreeable nation upon earth. He flatters 
 himself. Sire, that the course he has now taken up may lead 
 him to again pay his court to your Majesty. He has many 
 titles by which to admire you. Sire : as minister, as one of 
 the Forty, as a man of wit. I should see him oftener than I 
 do if his cook were not so good." When Madame de 
 Pompadour confided to Bernis for the first time this idea of 
 
 VOL. 1. — 2 
 
18 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the alliance with Austria, so contrary to established policy, 
 he began by objections ; Duclos, on Bernis' behalf, says so 
 expressly. Frederick, an equitable adversary, confirms it in 
 his History ; he blames Bernis only for lending himself to 
 views the imprudence of which he felt up to a certain 
 point, and which he, later, strove to moderate, but in 
 vain. 
 
 " So long as it was a question of establishing his fortune," 
 writes the historian-king, " all ways were the same to him 
 to reach his object; but as soon as he found himself es- 
 tablished he sought to maintain himself in office by principles 
 less fickle and more conformable to the permanent interests 
 of the State. His views turned wholly towards peace, to 
 end, on the one hand, a war of which he foresaw only its 
 disadvantages, and on the other, to withdraw his nation from 
 an enforced and adverse alliance, of which France was bear- 
 ing the bmrden and from which the house of Austria would 
 alone reap the fruits and the advantages. He addressed 
 himself to England by silent and secret means ; he opened 
 negotiations there for peace; but the Marquise de Pompa- 
 dour being of a contrary opinion, he at once found himself 
 stopped short in his measures. His imprudent actions had 
 raised him, his wise views ruined him; he was dismissed 
 for having talked of peace." 
 
 At the very moment when Bernis was actually dismissed 
 Frederick spoke of him to Lord Marshall in the same 
 manner : " People exaggerated Bernis' merits while he was 
 in favour ; and now they blame him too much — he deserves 
 neither." 
 
 This important point in the history of the eighteenth 
 century will never be completely cleared up until a con- 
 scientious historian is allowed to go to work on the State 
 papers and has made continuous extracts from them. Still, 
 
INTRODUCTION. 19 
 
 the general meaning of the conclusion may be foreseen and 
 judged in advance. As to the aspect of Bernis himself and 
 the movements of his mind amid this torrent, vs^e may gain 
 some idea from the letters and notes which he continues 
 to address to Duverney. During that busy year (1756- 
 1757), when he puts his hand to great affairs before he 
 enters upon his ministry, he is no longer the infirm and 
 languishing man of Venice, who has gout in his knees, 
 and whose life drags on from one inflammation of the chest 
 to another ; he is prodigal of himself in society, spends half 
 his nights at cards and pretends that he likes it, the better 
 to hide his other game ; for as yet he is not a minister ; 
 the secret negotiation he is conducting is carried on outside 
 of the cabinet, and those who are in office watch him. In 
 the midst of all these cares he was never in better health. 
 His nature, apparently so epicurean and lazy, has found its 
 element. "We are in 'the throes of a great decision," he 
 writes to Duverney (October 13, 1756) ; " my health is good 
 in spite of the labour, which increases and will increase day 
 by day." 
 
 His only complaint is not to have all to do, not to have 
 the whole burden upon himself: "The final orders have 
 arrived (Fontainebleau, November 5,' 1756) ; I am now 
 employed in the greatest work that ever was done. They 
 will not see that everything depends on the execution, and 
 that it is unbearable to be charged with a plan without 
 having the right to watch over its ezecution and conduct 
 it." That will be his continual complaint throughout the 
 whole period of his favour; for even after he entered the 
 ministry he was constantly thwarted by those, or to speak 
 more truly, by her, who used him only as an instrument: 
 " They made me dance upon a great stage with fetters on 
 my feet and hands. I consider myself very lucky to have 
 
20 INTEODUCTION. 
 
 come out of it and saved my reputation." He did not save 
 it as intact as he flattered himself. 
 
 Bemis, entering the Council as minister of State in Janu- 
 ary, 1757,^ appoLoted secretary of State for Foreign Affairs 
 in June of the same year, promoted to the dignity of car- 
 dinal in October, 1758, was suddenly superseded by Choiseul 
 in November, and almost immediately sent into exile at his 
 abbey of Saint-M6dard of Soissons. The first emotion over, 
 he told himself, with the good sense and reflection devoid of 
 bitterness with which he was provided and which formed 
 the basis of his character : " I have no longer my fortune 
 to make; I have only to honestly fulfil the career of my 
 profession and acquire the consideration which ought to 
 accompany a great dignity: for that, retirement is admi- 
 rably well fitted." 
 
 It is under this last form, no longer political nor yet 
 social, and not absolutely ecclesiastical, but agreeably diver- 
 sified and mingled, — it Ls in this retirement, soon to be 
 followed and crowned by a great embassy, that we must 
 study him henceforth in his quality as cardinal, finding 
 pleasure in recognizing him more and more as an eminent 
 personage, of gentle mind, rare culture, and infinite social 
 art. 
 
 I shall here make a short digression and profit by an 
 unezxjected document, the knowledge of which I owe to the 
 kindness of M. le Due Pasquier, former chancellor of France. 
 This document, which appears to have come originally from 
 Cardinal Lom&ie de Brienne, consists of a manuscript col- 
 lection of the private letters of Bemis written by him 
 during his ministry to M. de Choiseul, then our ambassador 
 at Vieima, and subsequently his successor in the ministry 
 of Foreign Affairs, and to the Marquise de Pompadour and 
 1 Two weeka before the death of the Marquis d'Argenson. — Tk. 
 
INTRODrCTIOX. 21 
 
 tlie king, written at the dose :f his ministry and durira 
 the first days of his dismissal TiieY explain the causes 
 of Ms retirenient and fal^ mere clearly than otrr jreTijus 
 knowledge of tlienL They allow us to judge with precision 
 of his degree of ineoinj>eteiicy a: the head of pablie a5airs, 
 and also of the excuses that belong to his defence. In That 
 I hare now to say, I shall take Bemis less as roinisier ihsn 
 as witness and reprater of the deplorable siniation he ;;n- 
 trituied to create, and in whidi lie took jort Triihout haTing 
 either the strength or the influence t: produce a remedy. 
 The sight, which I shall merely glance at after Bemis 
 without enlarging upon it. is distressing ; hzt it h .Lis wizhin 
 ii certain stem lessons which hisioiy has already drawn ; it 
 makes us penetrate into the causes of the mrn of the old 
 monarchT: it makes us feel to what a pciinr the nctlest 
 nations (our ovtd. in j.artic-nlar) detieni, for the sjiirir that 
 animates them and for their inwaid Tigonr, on the govern- 
 ments that lule them and on the m.eii 'vrho are at their head 
 The condition of p-ahlic opinicn in France at the t>egin- 
 Tifng of the Seven Tears' War, so lightly nndertaien. ^2^ 
 not what it became a year later ; the new aHianee '^itoh 
 AiLstria, conceired in denanee ct ancient maxims, filed all 
 minds and flattered aU hopes. The Empress Maria Theresa, 
 in her brare and passionate stmggle against the aggiancite- 
 ment of Prussia, had emjloyed a steiial blandishment in 
 her eSbrt to win France; she had nc: disdained to maie 
 herself the "friend" of Ma lame de Pcmpadomr, and sides 
 were taken with Austria at Tersailles jTecisely as we declare 
 for prirate friends against all others in the social calal ci a 
 diqua Bemis, just returned from Venice, and who was. as 
 it were, in the hollow ct Madame de Pcmtad'Oux's hand, was 
 diaiged with drawing up the plan and negotiating the treaty 
 of alliance. In spite of Ms first objections as a man of sense. 
 
22 INTEODUCTION. 
 
 he did not long resist the general impulse which carried 
 away every one about him ; he was dazzled, and believed he 
 was contributing to the greatest political operation attempted 
 siuce the days of Eichelieu. 
 
 At first, all things appeared to go well ; the new alliance 
 so extolled by the Court was very well taken by the public 
 until the news came of the first disasters. We had begun 
 by successes; the taking of Port-Mahon, the victory of 
 Hastenbeck, the first advantages of the Due de Eichelieu 
 seemed to promise an easy triumph to this novelty in diplo- 
 matic combination. Bernis, minister of Foreign Affairs 
 since June, 1757, kept all his hopes alive until the moment 
 when the Due de Eichelieu concluded with the Duke of 
 Cumberland the convention of Kloster-Zeven (September 8, 
 1757), which allowed the enemy's army to exist, and was 
 never to be ratified. It is here that Bernis' correspondence 
 with Choiseul (then Comte de Stainville) gives to us the 
 connected train of his thoughts and his anxieties. " M. 
 de Eichelieu, my dear count," he writes (September 20, 
 1757), " has rather forced the affair of the convention. No 
 act was ever less pondered, or concluded with less formalities. 
 The Duke of Mecklenburg and the Swedes will not be 
 pleased, and I fear much that annoyances may arise which 
 wni counterbalance the advantages. It is true that this 
 event is glorious in appearance, and gives M. de Eichelieu 
 the facility to put himself forward ; but beware the conse- 
 quences ! " From this moment the chances of war turn and 
 become unfavourable. Two letters from Bernis, written on 
 the news of the defeat at Eosbach, are such that we cannot 
 extract them ; it is not the defeat, but certain details of the 
 defeat which should be buried. Will it be believed that on 
 learning of this disaster nothing was thought of at Versailles 
 but the " poor general," who allowed himself to be beaten ? 
 
INTEODUCTION. 23 
 
 " They saw nothing at Court in the lost hattle but M. de 
 Soubise, nothing of the State. Our friend [notre amie ; 
 Madame de Pompadour is always mentioned thus between 
 Bernis and CJhoiseul], our friend gave him the strongest 
 proofs of friendship, and the kiag also." What is worse 
 than this condolence is that they think only of procuring 
 him a revenge, and Bemis himself, since he must, lends 
 himself to it. " The king loves M. de Soubise," he writes 
 the following spring to Duverney; "he wants to give 
 him the opportunity to revenge himself for Eosbach ; there 
 is the truth. One must not oppose one's master, but serve 
 him as he wishes, especially when circumstances render all 
 other courses impossible, or dangerous." 
 
 That which appears most distinctly in Bemis from end to 
 end of these letters to Choiseul is the character of an honest 
 man below the situation; one who is the designated and 
 responsible author of an alliance now shown to be fatal, who 
 feels himself involved, and has not the power to either hold 
 firm or to repair the evil. " One does not die of grief," he 
 writes to Choiseul (December 13, 1757), "inasmuch as I am 
 not dead after September 8 " (period of the heedless conven- 
 tion of Kloster-Zeven). " The blunders since then have been 
 heaped up in a manner that cannot be explained except by 
 bad intentions. I have spoken with the utmost force to God 
 and his saints. I excite a little rise in the pulse; then 
 lethargy returns ; great sad eyes are opened, and all is said." 
 He finds that France has neither king, nor generals, nor 
 ministers ; and that expression seems to him so true and 
 just that he consents to be included himself in the category 
 of those who do not exist. "It seems to me that I am 
 minister of Foreign Affairs in Limbo. Try, my dear count, 
 if you cannot excite better than I have done the principle of 
 life which is dying within us. As for me, I have struck aU 
 
24 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 my great blows, and I am about, like the others, to have a 
 paralysis of feeling, but without ceasing to do my duty 
 as a citizen and an honest man." 
 
 At this date there was no direction in France, neither in 
 the armies nor in the cabinet. The affairs of the ministry 
 of war were still, through the subalterns, imder the in- 
 iluences of " Les Ormes " [The Elms], that is to say, under 
 that of Comte d'Argenson now in exile on his estate at Les 
 Ormes, having quitted the ministry in the early months of 
 1757.'^ Insubordination, and want of discipline are every- 
 where ; no one is feared or obeyed ; the rivalry and dis- 
 union of the Due de Eichelieu and the Prince de Soubise 
 have led to the disasters of the close of the campaign; 
 demands are made on the Marfohal de Belleisle and 
 Duverney for memoranda and plans for the coming cam- 
 paign which will not be followed. In the midst of these 
 reverses which affect so profoundly the military honour and 
 the future of the monarchy, the apathy of Louis XV. is 
 total. "There is no such example of playing so great a 
 game with the same indifference as a game of cards." The 
 sole honour to Bemis, charged with the political side, but 
 excluded, naturally, from military questions, and having 
 only a trifle more favour than others, but no more authority 
 or influence in decisive moments, is that of comprehending 
 the evil and suffering from it. " Sensitive, and, if I may 
 dare to say so, sensible as I am, I am dying on the rack, and 
 my martyrdom is useless to the State." He cries out for a 
 government at any cost, with nerve, consistency, and fore- 
 sight : " Please God to send us a will of some sort, or some 
 one who would have it for us ! I would be his valet de 
 chamhre if need be, and with all my heart." 
 
 ' He was succeeded in it by his nephew the Marquis de Paulmy, son of 
 his late brother, the Marquis d'Argenson. — Tr. 
 
IKTRODUCTION. 25 
 
 Bernis had notMng in him which awed the king or Madame 
 de Pompadour. The latter had known him in poverty ; she 
 had drawn him out of it ; she enjoyed him for the gentleness 
 of his intercourse and the charm of his society ; but she con- 
 sidered him at all times as her creation. The minister was 
 to her still the little abb^ smiling and flowery, who came to 
 her lever on Sunday mornings and whom she tapped famil- 
 iarly on the cheek with a " Good-day, abbd." It is related 
 that on one occasion, during the altercations at the close of 
 their intercourse, she reproached him sharply with having 
 lifted him out of the dust ; to which he answered with dig- 
 nity, alluding to his rank : " Madame, a Comte de Lyon is 
 never lifted out of the dust." However that may be, it is 
 certain that Bernis never had the slightest ascendency over 
 the king or over Madame de Pompadour. It was M. de 
 Choiseul who, without being above him in birth, but adding 
 to his birth at all times the habits and state of a great 
 seigneur, was able to win that necessary influence, and jus- 
 tify it definitively by his capacity. 
 
 In any Study of the eighteenth century Madame de Pom- 
 padour is inevitable. We must not fear to call things and 
 epochs by their name ; and the name under which the eigh- 
 teenth century may most justly in many respects be designated, 
 for the taste, the style universally reigning in the arts of 
 design, in the fashions and usages of life, in poesy even, — is 
 it not that coquettish and decorative name which seems to 
 be made expressly for the beautiful marquise and to rhyme 
 so well with amour ? All the arts of that period bear her 
 seal ; the great painter Watteau, who came before her time 
 and who created a magic pastoral world, seems to have deco- 
 rated and embellished it expressly that she might take posses- 
 sion of it to bloom and reign there. The successors of 
 Watteau delighted unanimously in recognizing the sceptre 
 
26 INTEODUCTION. 
 
 of their natural protectress. In poesy, it is not Bemis alone 
 who is wholly Pompadour, it is Voltaire in three-fourths of 
 his lesser verses, it is the whole light poetry of the day; 
 even in prose we have Marmontel in his " Contes Moraux," 
 and Montesquieu himself in his " Temple de Gnide." The 
 "style Pompadour" imquestionably existed before the ad- 
 vent of the beautiful marquise, but she sums it up in herself, 
 she crowns it and personifies it. 
 
 Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson, born in Paris, December 29, 
 1721, issued from that rich bomgeoisie and that world of 
 finance which pushed itself forward in the last half of Louis 
 XV.'s reign, and in which it was not rare to find a witty and 
 sumptuous epicureanism ; to this she added elegance. Every- 
 one agrees in saying that in her youth she had all the talents 
 and all the graces. Her education had been most careful in 
 the arts that charm; everything had been taught to her, 
 except morality. " I found there," writes President H&ault 
 to Mme. du Deffand, referring to some social occasion, " one of 
 the prettiest women I have ever seen, — Mme. d'Etioles. She 
 knows music perfectly, she sings with all the taste and gaiety 
 possible, knows hundreds of songs, plays comedy at Etioles 
 on a stage as fine as that of the Opera, with scenery and 
 changes of it." 
 
 There she is, such as she was before her meeting with Louis 
 XV., — daughter of a gay mother who was kept by a farmer- 
 general, married as if provisionally to a nephew of the latter. 
 It appears that very early the whole family, seeing how 
 seductive and enchanting she was, destined her for higher 
 things, and were only awaiting the occasion and the moment. 
 " She is a morsel for a king," they said on all sides around 
 her ; and the young woman ended by believing this destiny 
 as mistress of the king to be the star of her life. 
 
 Louis XV. was then in the first glow of his tardy emanci- 
 
/^Cn^. ^e- ii^^.^r/i/ur.c/r^^'!?-' 
 
INTRODUCTION. 27 
 
 pation, and the nation, not knowing for a long time where to 
 turn, had taken to loving him distractedly. Mme. d'Etioles 
 did the same. When the king went to hunt in the forest of 
 Sdnart, not far from Etioles, she appeared before him as if by 
 chance in a pretty carriage. The king noticed her and gal- 
 lantly sent her some game ; then, in the evening, a valet de 
 chamhre, a relative of the family, insinuated to the master all 
 desired details and offered his services for the result. All 
 this, as a beginning, is not fine, hut it is history. 
 
 Louis XV., endowed with so fine a face and so many 
 apparent graces, showed himself from his youth up the 
 weakest and most timid of kings. Sickly in his childhood, 
 the yoimg king, whose life seemed to hang on a thread, had 
 been raised with excessive caution; they spared him all 
 effort, more even than is customary with princes. Cardinal 
 de Fleury directed his education in this effeminate manner ; 
 the old man of nearly eighty, from long habit and wiliness, 
 kept his royal pupil in leadiug-strings ; turning him aside 
 from all that resembled ideas or enterprise and carefully 
 uprooting the slightest impulse or desire, he accustomed him 
 to none but easy things. Nature, moreover, had done nothing 
 to help the royal youth to rise above this senile and effeminate 
 education. He had no spark of anything in him but that 
 which soon declared itself for things of the senses. The 
 young courtiers, the ambitious men who surrounded him saw 
 with vexation the continued tutelage of the cardinal and the 
 perpetuation of the king's insipid childhood until he was 
 more than thirty years of age ; they perceived that there was 
 but one way to emancipate him and make him master, 
 namely: to give him a mistress. He had had them for 
 years, but always as a school-boy and under the good pleas- 
 ure of the cardinal ; he needed one, the courtiers thought, who 
 woidd be really mistress and make him his own master. 
 
28 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Cardinal de Fleury being dead, iatrigues were more rife 
 tlian ever ; the point was, iaasmuch as the king was so de- 
 void of will, to know what hand should seize the tiller. 
 Mme. de Tencin, who would fain have pushed her brother, 
 the cardinal, to the head of the ministry, knew not how to 
 lay hold of the apathetic wQl of the monarch. She wrote to 
 the Due de Eichelieu, who was then at the war, and begged 
 that courtier to write to Mme. de Chateauroux and urge her 
 to draw the king from the lethargy into which he had sunk 
 in relation to public affairs. 
 
 " What my brother has said to him as to this," she adds, " has 
 been useless ; it is, as he wrote you, talking to stones. I can- 
 not conceive of a man choosing to be a nonentity when he 
 could be everything. No one but you would believe the 
 point to which the thing has gone. What happens in the 
 kingdom seems not to concern him ; he is interested in noth- 
 ing'; in the Council he is absolutely indifferent; he agrees 
 to whatever is presented to him. In truth, there is enough 
 to make one desperate in having to do with such a man. 
 One sees that in all things his apathetic nature turns him 
 to the side in which there is least trouble, though it may be 
 the worst side." 
 
 Mme. de Tencin and her brother, the cardinal, both so 
 little estimable, judged of this matter as persons of coup 
 d'oeil and intelligence. In another letter she suggests the 
 idea that it might be useful to induce the king to put him- 
 self at the head of his armies. " Not — between ourselves — " 
 she added, " that he is fit to command a company of Grena- 
 diers, but his presence will do much ; the people love their 
 king from habit, and will be enchanted to see him take 
 that step, to which he could be prompted. The troops will 
 do their duty better, the generals will not dare to shirk theirs 
 as openly as they do now." This idea prevailed, thanks to 
 
INTRODTJCTION. 29 
 
 Mme. de Ch^teauroux, who, for one moment, made Louis XV. 
 the phantom of a hero and the idol of the nation. Mme. de 
 ChateauroTix, then his mistress, had courage and spirit ; she 
 felt the generous inspiration and conveyed it. She tormented 
 the king, who seemed to regret he was a king, by speaking 
 to him of State affairs, of his interests, his glory. " You kill 
 me," he said to her constantly. " So much the better," she 
 replied, "a king should resuscitate." She did resuscitate 
 him, and succeeded for a short time in making out of Louis 
 XV. a prince conscious of honour who was not recognizable. 
 We are not so far from Mme. de Pompadour as we 
 seem. It was this phantom of a king that Mme. d'J^tioles 
 watched as he hunted in the forest of S^nart and began to 
 love. She dreamed I know not what of Henri IV. and 
 Gabrielle. Mme. de ChSteauroux having died suddenly, she 
 told herself it was she who could replace her. An intrigue 
 was at once set a-foot by her people. The details are 
 obscure, and gossip is not history. But, with that absolute 
 lack of initiative that characterized Louis XV., it was 
 necessary to do for Mme. d'Etioles what had already been 
 done for Mme. de Chateauroux, namely : arrange the affair 
 for him. To princes, under such circumstances, officious 
 intermediaries are never wanting. Mme. de Tencin, who 
 had seen her first instrument, Mme. de Chateauroux, broken, 
 concurred in replacing her by Mme. d'Etioles. The Due 
 de Eichelieu on the contrary, was opposed to the latter ; he 
 had another candidate in view, a great lady ; for it seemed 
 as though to be mistress of the king the first condition was 
 to be a woman of rank, and the advent of Mme. Lenormant 
 d'Etioles, MUe. Poisson! as the acknowledged mistress of 
 royalty made a total revolution in the maimers and morals 
 of the Court. In this sense, especially, the affair was thought 
 scandalous, and the great shade of Louis XIV. was invoked, 
 
30 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The Maurepas and Eichelieus revolted at the thought of a 
 bourgeoise, a "grisette," as they called her, usurping the 
 power hitherto reserved to daughters of noble blood. Maure- 
 pas, satirical above all, stayed in opposition, consoling himself 
 with making songs against her for twenty years ; Eichelieu, 
 courtier above all, made his peace and was reconciled. 
 
 The year 1745, that of Fontenoy, was for Mme. d'Etioles 
 one of triumph and great metamorphoses. Her connection 
 with the king was already " arranged," and it was merely a 
 question of when to declare it publicly. The king was with 
 the army, and she at ^^tioles. He wrote to her letter after 
 letter ; Voltaire, who was staying at her house and whom she 
 had induced to compose a comedy for the Court f^te on the 
 occasion of the marriage of the dauphin with the Spanish 
 infanta lent himself to this play of Henri IV. and Gabrielle, 
 and rhymed madrigal after madrigal about it : — 
 
 " He can love and he can fight ; 
 He sends to this charming spot 
 Letters worthy of Henri IV. 
 Signed Louis, Mars, and Love." 
 
 The Abb^ de Bernis was then at Etioles ; he was said to be 
 the lover of Mme. d'Etioles, but this is very doubtful. " He 
 knew, shortly before, that she had arranged with the king." 
 Those are Cardinal de Brieime's words, and I like to protect 
 myself with such grave authority in so delicate a matter. 
 But when the thing had been settled like an affair of State 
 and the king was about to depart for the army, it became 
 a question of forming the intimate society of the future 
 marquise during his absence, and the Abbd de Bernis was 
 suggested. He was faithful to his mission ; he made pretty 
 verses in honour of this royal amour, of which he was the 
 confidant and almost the chaplain. Faithful to the tone of 
 the day, Bernis, instead of seeing anything reprehensible in 
 
INTRODUCTION. 31 
 
 tMs royal amour, paints it as a model of chastity and modesty 
 worthy in all things of the age of gold. The amiable abbe, 
 who sees no evil but that of inconstancy, assures us there will 
 be no more of that : — 
 
 " All will change ; inconstant crimes 
 Are thought no longer exploits ; 
 The Modest soul alone obtains our praise ; 
 And constant Love recovers all its rights ; 
 The example now is set by our great king, 
 And by virtuous beauty." 
 
 Thus the yovmg Pompadour enters Versailles with the 
 title of " virtuous beauty," whose heart is enraptured by a 
 faithful hero. _, ' 
 
 It all seems strange and almost ridiculous; but if we 
 study the new marquise we shall see that there is truth in 
 this manner of looking at the affair, and that the taste of 
 the eighteenth century is genuinely in it. Mme. de Pompa- 
 dour was by no means a grisette, as her enemies affected to 
 say, and as Voltaire called her on one of his malicious days. 
 She was a bourgeoise, a flower of finance, the prettiest woman 
 in Paris, witty, elegant, endowed with a thousand gifts, a 
 thousand talents, but with a manner of feeling which had 
 neither the grandeur nor the hardness of aristocratic ambi- 
 tion. She loved the king for himself, as the handsomest 
 man of his kingdom, as the one who seemed to her the most 
 amiable ; she loved him sincerely, sentimentally, if not with 
 profound passion. Her ideal would have been, on arriving 
 at Court, to charm him, to amuse him by entertaiaments 
 taken from the arts, or from things of the intellect, to make 
 him happy and keep him constant ia a circle of varied en- 
 chantments and pleasures. A landscape by Watteau, games, 
 comedies, pastorals beneath the leafage, a continual em- 
 barkation for Cythera, — such was her chosen scene. But, 
 
32 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 once transported to the slippery floor of the Court, she could 
 realize her ideal but very imperfectly. Kind and obliging 
 by nature, she had to arm herself against enmities and 
 treachery, and take the offensive to save herself from over- 
 throw; she was led by necessity to politics and to make 
 herself a minister of State. 
 
 Nevertheless, from the first (and here it is that I see her 
 faithful to her origin), she briags a certain something of 
 bourgeois sentiments, the affections and tastes of private life 
 into even the brilliant scandals of her royal liaison. The 
 Memoirs of her waiting-woman, Mme. du Hausset, iaform 
 us on this subject and show us with great naivete of state- 
 ment the true and habitual sentiments of Mme. de Pom- 
 padour. I will cite an example that will show what I 
 mean. 
 
 Mme. de Pompadour had, by her husband, a daughter 
 named Alexandrine, whom she educated with extreme care 
 and destined for a great marriage. The king had by Mme. 
 de Vintimille (sister of Mme. de Chateauroux) a son who 
 was the picture of his father. Mme. de Pompadour wished 
 to see this son of the master, and found means to bring him 
 to BeUevue, where she was staying with her daughter. 
 Leading the king into a conservatory where the two children 
 were, as it seemed, by chance, she said to him, pointiug to 
 the pair, " They would make a handsome couple." The king 
 was chilling, and did not give in to the idea. The Bourbon 
 blood within him resisted the charm of such an alliance 
 thus proposed. But she, without fully understanding his 
 coldness, said to Mme. du Hausset as she thought it over : — 
 
 " If he were Louis XIV. he would make that child a Due 
 du Maine ; but I don't ask as much as that : an office and 
 patent of duke for his son is very little ; it is because the 
 boy is his son, my dear, that I prefer htm to the little dukes 
 
INTRODUCTION. 33 
 
 at Court. My grandchildreii would share in a resemblance 
 to their grandfather and their grandmother, and this mix- 
 ture, which I hope to see, will some day make my happiness. 
 The tears came into her eyes in saying these words," adds 
 the honest waiting-maid. 
 
 We perceive, it seems to me, the bourgeois vein, perverted 
 yet persistent, in this hope of Mme. de Pompadour; she 
 brings ideas of affection, and family arrangement into even 
 her adiiiterous connection. She has feelings ; she thinks in 
 advance as a grandmother, is moved by that thought. It 
 was this side of her which so shocked the courtiers, and 
 made them call her a grisette ; it was caused by a good 
 quality out of place in those high regions. Mme. de Pompa- 
 dour represents on still other sides the middle-class at Court, 
 and foretells in a way its advent, — an advent very irregular, 
 but very significant, and very real. 
 
 She loved the arts and the things of the intellect as not 
 one mistress of high rank had ever done. Eeaching this 
 eminent and little honourable position (much less honour- 
 able than she thought it), she at first considered herself as 
 destined to aid, to call around her, and to encourage, suffer- 
 ing merit and men of talent of all kinds. Her only fame is 
 there, — her best claim, as it is her excuse. She did every- 
 thing to advance Voltaire and to make him acceptable to 
 Louis XV., whom the petulant poet repelled so strongly by 
 the vivacity and the familiarity of his laudation. She 
 thought she found genius in Cr^billon, and she honoured 
 it. She favoured Gresset, she protected Marmontel, she 
 welcomed Duclos, she admired Montesquieu and openly 
 showed it to him. She would gladly have obliged Jean- 
 ^Jacques Eousseau. When the King of Prussia bestowed 
 ostentatiously on d'Alembert a moderate pension she ad- 
 vised Louis XV. — who was laughing before her at the sum 
 VOL. i.,r-3 
 
34 INTEODUCTION. 
 
 bestowed (1200 francs), compared with the term " sublime 
 genius," in the letter bestowing it — she advised him to 
 forbid the philosopher to accept it, and to grant him the 
 double; which Louis XV. dared not do, from motives of 
 piety, because of the Encyclopaedia. It was not her fault 
 that we cannot say " the age of Louis XV.," as we say " the 
 age of Louis XIV." She would fain have made of this king 
 so little affable, so little giving, a friend of the Arts, of 
 Letters, and as liberal as a Valois. " What was Frangois I. 
 like ? " she one day asked the Comte de Saint-Germain who 
 claimed to have lived many centuries. " There 's a king I 
 should have loved ! " But Louis XV. could not bring him- 
 self to the idea of considering men of letters and iatellect as 
 of any account, or to admitting them on any footing at 
 Court. 
 
 " It is not the fashion in France," said this routine monarch 
 one day, when they were quoting the example of Frederick 
 the Great before him; "besides, as there are more men of 
 letters and more great seigneurs here than there are in 
 Prussia, I should need a very large dinner-table to invite 
 them aU." Then he counted on his fingers : " Maupertuis, 
 Fontenelle, La Motte, Voltaire, Piron, Destouches, Montes- 
 quieu — " " Your Majesty forgets," said some one, " d'Alem- 
 bert and Clairaut — " "And Cr^billon," he said, "and La 
 Chauss^e — " "And Cr^billon junior," said another ; "he is 
 more amiable than his father ; and there 's the Abb4 Prdvost 
 the Abb^ d'Olivet — " « Well ! " said the king, " for twenty- 
 five years all that would have dined and supped with me ! " 
 
 Ah ! all that would indeed have been much out of place 
 at Versailles ; but Mme. de Pompadour would have liked 
 to see them there, nevertheless, and to have brought about 
 some connection of opinion between the monarch and the 
 men who were the honour of his reign. In point of fact, 
 
INTRODUCTION. 35 
 
 she was the most amiable and the prettiest of philosophers 
 and by no means the most inconsequent, who, having a place 
 at Court, would have liked to introduce there some of 
 her own kind. " Have you regretted Mme. de Pompadour ? " 
 wrote Voltaire to d'Alembert on hearing of her death. 
 " Yes, no doubt ; for in the depths of her heart she was one 
 of us ; she protected Letters as much as she could ; there 's 
 a fine dream ended ! " 
 
 When, to amuse the king, she plays comedies in the 
 private apartments Montesquieu has an air of laughing at 
 her ia a letter he writes to a friend (November, 1749) : " I 
 have nothing more to tell you, unless it is that the operas 
 and comedies of Mme. de Pompadour are about to begia, 
 and therefore that the Due de la Vallifere will be one of the 
 first men of the age ; and as nothing is talked of but balls 
 and comedies, Voltaire enjoys a particular favour.'' But, 
 among those ballets and operas at which Montesquieu 
 sneered, they were also playing " Tartuffe ; " and they played 
 it within a few feet of the Court of the devout dauphiu, and 
 those courtiers who had neither place nor part in it were 
 inconsolable. 
 
 In the entresol of the marquise at Versailles lived Dr. 
 Quesnay, her physician, the patron and founder of the sect of 
 the Economists. He was an original ; a brusque, honest man, 
 remaining sincere at a Court ; serious with his " apish face," 
 ever ready with ingenious apologues through which to make 
 truth speak. While the king was with Mme. de Pompadour, 
 Bemis, Choiseul, and the other ministers who governed with 
 her, the Encyclopaedists and the Economists were talking 
 freely of all things in the entresol below, and settling the 
 futiffe. It seems as if the marquise had some consciousness 
 of the storms that were gathering above her head when she 
 said, " After me, the deluge ! " It was that very entresol, 
 
36 INTEODUCTIOK 
 
 full of ideas and theories, whicli inclosed withia it those 
 cataracts of heaven which were sooner or later to break 
 loose. There were days when around its table, diaing 
 together, could be seen Diderot, d'Alembert, Duclos, Hel- 
 vetius, Turgot, Buffon, — all that, as Louis XV. said ; " and 
 Mme. de Pompadour," relates Marmontel, " unable to invite 
 that troop of philosophers to her salon, would come down 
 herself to see them at table and talk with them." 
 
 The privacy of letters was very little observed in those 
 days; the director of the Post-office came regularly every 
 week to bring to the king and Mme. de Pompadour extracts 
 from the correspondence entrusted to him. When Dr. Ques- 
 nay saw him pass he flew into a fury against " that in- 
 famous minister," as he called him, to such a degree that 
 he foamed at the mouth. " I would no more dine with 
 that director of the Posts," he said, " than with the public 
 executioner." Such remarks as these were made in the 
 apartments of the king's mistress, and without danger, and 
 for a period of twenty years. M. de Marigny, brother of 
 Mme. de Pompadour, a man of merit and worthy of his 
 sister on more than one good side, contented himself by 
 saying, " It is integrity exhaling itself, not malevolence." 
 
 One day, this same M. de Marigny, being in Dr. Quesnay's 
 lodging, they began to talk of M. de ChoiseuL "He is 
 nothing but a dandy," said the doctor, " cut out, if he were 
 a little handsomer, for a favourite of Henri III." The 
 Marquis de Mirabeau (father of the great tribune) entered, 
 and with him M. de la Eivifere. " This kingdom," said Mira- 
 beau, " is in a very bad state ; there are no energizing senti- 
 ments, and no money to take their place." "The country 
 cannot be regenerated," said La Eivifere, " except by a con- 
 quest like that of China or by some great internal upheaval ; 
 but sorrow to those who will then be in it; the French 
 
INTRODUCTION. 37 
 
 people strike hard." " These words made me tremble," says 
 the good Mme. Hausset, from whom we are quoting, " and 
 I hastened to leave the room. M. de Marigny did the same, 
 without seeming to be affected by what was said." 
 
 Connect these prophetic words with those that escaped 
 from Louis XV. himself on the subject of the resistance of 
 parliament : " Thiags as they are wiU. last my time " — that 
 was his end of the world. 
 
 Did Mme. de Pompadour contribute as much as people 
 have said to the ruin of the monarchy ? She did not hinder 
 it, certainly. Nevertheless, given the character of Louis 
 XV., it may have been the best thing that could have 
 happened to that king to fall into the hands of a woman 
 "born sincere, who loved him for himself, and who had 
 rectitude in her mind and justice in her heart, which is not 
 to be met with daily." That is Voltaire's opinion when 
 judging Mme. de Pompadour after her death. Admit the 
 class, and there was good in her. 
 
 Louis XV., so despicable in character, was not a man 
 without intelligence, nor without good sense. Many apt 
 sayings, piquant and sufficiently shrewd repartees are quoted 
 of him, such as come readily from the princes of the house of 
 Bourbon. He seems to have had some judgment, if that 
 word is not too lofty to connect with the species of immo- 
 bility and sloth in which he liked to keep his mind ; but his 
 greatest need of all was to be governed. He was a Louis 
 XIII. turned into the eighteenth century, with the vices of 
 his time, as base, as feeble, and much less chaste than his 
 ancestor, and without his Eichelieu. He could only have 
 found the latter in a beautiful woman, and the finding of 
 the genius of a Eichelieu in the body of a Pompadour is 
 not, perhaps, within the order of human possibilities. Never- 
 theless, Mme. de Pompadour comprehended after a time 
 
38 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 that the mistress in her was worn-out, that she could no 
 longer retaia or divert the king by that power alone ; she 
 felt that there was but one sure means of maintaining her- 
 self, namely, to be the necessary friend and minister, the 
 one to relieve the king of the trouble of willing in matters 
 of State. She therefore became very nearly what he needed 
 her to be ; but in doing so, she forced her own nature, which 
 was more fitted for the government of little cabinets and 
 dainty pleasures. Here mythology ceases, and history be- 
 gins — a far from noble history ! When she had made the 
 king dismiss the Comte d'Argenson and M. de Machault she 
 governed conjoiatly with the Abb6 de Bernis and M. de 
 ChoiseuL It was then that the world saw the political 
 system of Europe overthrown, the ancient alliances of France 
 interverted, and a whole series of great events undertaken at 
 the mercy of the inclinations, the antipathies, and the too 
 fragile, too personal good sense of an amiable woman. 
 
 Then was seen a most singular spectacle: that of an 
 heroic and cynical King of Prussia contending with three 
 women, three sovereigns, rancorous for his ruin, whom he 
 characterized, each and all, energetically, — the Empress 
 Elizabeth of Eussia, the Empress Maria-Theresa, and Mme. 
 de Pompadour, — behaving to them all as a man not ac- 
 customed to love the sex, or to fear it. On the other side 
 was Louis XV., saying naively of this king, whose ally he 
 did not know how to be, and of whom he was so often the 
 beaten and humiliated enemy : " He is a madman who risks 
 his all to win or lose ; he may win, though he has neither 
 religion, morals, nor principles." It is amusing to find 
 Louis XV. believing that he himself had more morals and 
 principles than Frederick. 
 
 Beaten without, for lack of a hero, in her duel with 
 Frederick, Mme. de Pompadour was more fortunate within 
 
INTRODUCTION. 39 
 
 the kingdom, in her war to the death against the Jesuits. 
 She offered to make peace with them at a certaia moment ; 
 they refused her advances, contrary to their custom. She 
 was a woman, a clever woman, and mistress of the ground ; 
 she revenged herself. This time she did all the harm it was 
 possible to do to those who had tried to harm her. Eecent 
 publications have thrown a vivid light on this interesting 
 poiat.^ 
 
 Thus we find in the career and influence of Mme. de 
 Pompadour two distant epochs : the first, the most brilliant 
 and favoured, began on the morrow of the peace of Aix-la- 
 Chapelle (1748) : then she was completely in her r5le of 
 mistress, young, in love with peace, with the arts, with the 
 pleasures of the mind, counselling and protecting aU delight- 
 ful things. The second epoch is chequered, more often 
 disastrous and fatal ; this was the whole period of the Seven 
 Years' War, the period of Damiens' attempt, of the defeat at 
 Eosbach, and the victorious insults of Frederick. Those 
 were harsh years, which aged before her time this frail and 
 graceful woman, dragged into a struggle too severe for her. 
 To judge of the precise degree of errors committed by each 
 and aU at this date, we must turn to the diplomatic papers 
 relating to the ministry of Cardinal de Bernis and that of 
 the Due de ChoiseuL My impression is, from a simple view 
 of them, that things might have gone to worse, and that 
 Mme. de Pompadour, aided by M. de Choiseul, did, by 
 means of the "Family Compact" cover with a certain 
 prestige her own errors and the humiliation of the monarchy 
 and France. 
 
 It would seem as though the nation itself felt this, felt 
 
 1 See " History of the Fall of the Jesuits in the eighteenth century, by 
 Comte Alexis Saint-Priest; also Pfere Theiner's "History of the Pontifi- 
 cate of Clement XIV." 
 
40 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 above all that after this brilliant favourite was gone the 
 monarchy was fated to fall low indeed ; for when she died 
 at Versailles (April 15, 1764), the regret of the population 
 of Paris, who would have stoned her a few years earlier, 
 was universal. Mme. de La Tour-Franqueville, a witness 
 not to be suspected, writes to Jean-Jacques Eousseau 
 (May 6): — 
 
 "The weather has been so frightful here of late that 
 Mme. de Pompadour must have had less regret in quitting 
 life. She proved in her last moments that her soul was a 
 composition of strength and weakness, — a mixture which, in 
 a woman, is never surprising. Nor am I surprised to see 
 her as generally regretted as she once was generally de- 
 spised or hated. Frenchmen are the first men in the world 
 for everything; it is quite natural they should be so for 
 inconsistency." 
 
 One of those who seemed to regret her the least was 
 Louis XV. ; it is told that seeing from a window the coffin 
 as it was being transported in the rain from the cMteau of 
 Versailles to Paris, he merely remarked, "The marquise 
 will not have fine weather for her trip." His forefather 
 Louis XIII. was heard to say at the hour of the execution 
 of his favourite Cinq-Mars, "Bear friend must be mak- 
 ing an ugly face just now." Beside this saying of Louis 
 XIII., that of Louis XV. seems touching in its sensibility. 
 
 The arts felt grievously the loss of Mme. de Pompadour, 
 and have consecrated her memory ; if Voltaire, writing of 
 her death to friends, could say, " She was one of us," with 
 much more reason had artists the right to say so. Mme. de 
 Pompadour was herself a distinguished artist. Directly, 
 and through her brother, M. de Marigny, whom she had 
 caused to be appointed Superintendent of buildings, she 
 exercised the most active and fortunate influence. At no 
 
INTKODUCTION. 41 
 
 period was axt more living, more in touch with social life, 
 which expressed and modelled itself through and by it on 
 all sides. Eendering an account of the Salon of 1765, 
 Diderot dwells first on an allegorical picture ia which Carl 
 Van Loo represents the arts, disconsolate and supplicatiag, 
 imploring Destiny for the recovery of the marquise. " She 
 protected them indeed," writes the critic : " she loved Carl 
 Van Loo ; she was Cochin's benefactress ; the engraver Gai 
 had his wheel in her house; fortunate indeed would the 
 nation have been had she confined herself to diverting the 
 sovereign by amusements and by ordering from artists their 
 pictures and statues." And then, after describing the picture, 
 he adds, rather rudely, methinks : — 
 
 " The suppliants of Van Loo obtained nothing from Des- 
 tiny more favourable to France than to the arts. Mme. de 
 Pompadour died at the moment when they thought her out 
 of danger. Well! what remains of that woman who has 
 exhausted us in men and money, left us without honour and 
 without energy, and has overthrown the political system of 
 Europe ? — the Treaty of Versailles which will last as long as 
 it may ; the Cupid of Bourchardon, which the world will for- 
 ever admire ; a few engravings by Gai which will astonish 
 future antiquaries ; a good little picture by Van Loo which 
 people will look at sometimes ; and a handful of ashes ! " 
 
 There remain other things ; and posterity, or at least the 
 amateurs who to-day represent it, seem to grant to the influ- 
 ence of Mme. de Pompadour and to rank imder her name 
 more objects worthy of attention than Diderot enumerates. 
 I shall rapidly point out a few of them : — 
 
 Mme. de Pompadour had a fine library ; very rich espe- 
 cially in works for the stage ; a library consisting chiefly of 
 Trench books, that is to say, books which she read, most of 
 them bound with her arms (three towers), and some- 
 
42 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 times with broad laces coyermg the sides. These volumes 
 are still sought for, and bibliophiles give her a place of 
 honour in their golden book beside the most illustrious con- 
 noisseurs whose names have come down to us. She pushed 
 her love of the art so far as to print with her own hands at 
 Versailles a tragedy by CorneiUe " Kodogune " (1760) ; only 
 twenty copies of which were struck off. It may be said that 
 these were only passing fancies, but they prove the taste and 
 the passion for Letters iu the woman who " would have loved 
 Fran5ois I." 
 
 There exists in the " Cabinet d'Estampes " a Collection 
 entitled " CEuvre de Mme. de Pompadour," consisting of 
 more than sixty engravings or etchings. They are chiefly 
 allegorical subjects, intended to celebrate the memorable 
 events of the day, but there are some which enter more into 
 the idea we form of the charming artist : " Love cultivating 
 a myrtle," " Love cultivating laurels." The Loves are there 
 in every form, and even " Military Genius " itself is represent- 
 ed as Cupid meditating before cannon and flags. Not con- 
 tent with reproducing thus by etchings on copper the engrav- 
 ings on fine stones by Gai, Mme. de Pompadour seems to 
 have used the lathe herself on fine stones (agate or cornelian). 
 Her etchings were retouched with a graving-tool. In short, 
 even in printing, she put, in many ways, her hand, her pretty 
 hand, to work ; she is of the trade, and just as the bibliophiles 
 inscribe her on their list and the typographers on theirs, the 
 engravers have a right to count in their ranks, with the title 
 of associate, " Mme. de Pompadour, etcher." 
 
 The manufactory of Sfevres owes much to her ; she protected 
 it actively : there she often took the king, who, for once in a 
 way, felt the importance of an art to which he owed his mag- 
 nificent dinner-services, worthy of being offered as gifts to 
 sovereigns. Under the near influence of Versailles, Sfevres 
 
INTRODUCTION. 43 
 
 soon had original marvels to rival those of Old Dresden and 
 Japan. Nowhere does the style called " Pompadour " shine 
 with more delicacy and fancy, or better in its place, than in 
 the porcelain services of that date. This glory, due to a 
 fragile art, is more durable than many others. 
 
 While M. de Marigny, her brother, summoned Soufflot 
 from Lyons to put him in charge of the construction of 
 Sainte-Genevifeve (the Pantheon), she interested herself 
 eagerly, and contributed her share to the establishment of 
 the Ecole Militaire. Among the very small number of 
 authentic letters which we have of her, there are two which 
 give very valuable details on this subject. In one, addressed 
 to a friend, the Comtesse de Lutzelbourg, she says (January 
 3, 1751):— 
 
 " I believe you have been very glad of the decree the 
 king has just issued ennobling the military ; but you wiU 
 be still better pleased with one that is about to appear for an 
 Establishment for five hundred young gentlemen whom the 
 king is to educate in military art. This Koyal school is to 
 be built near the Invalides ; it will be all the finer because 
 his Majesty has worked at it himself for the past year, and 
 the ministers have had nothing to do with it and did not 
 know of it until he had arranged everything to his liking ; 
 which was done at the end of the last trip to Fontainebleau. 
 I will send you the edict as soon as printed." 
 
 If the king worked at this himself and the ministers had 
 nothing to do with it, we may be sure that he owed its 
 inspiration to Mme. de Pompadour, for he was not a man 
 to have ideas of that kind in his own head. Another and 
 very familiar letter of Mme. de Pompadour, addressed to 
 Paris-Duvemey, who had suggested to her the first idea 
 of the Ecole Militaire, shows her to us pursuing that noble 
 project with solicitude : — 
 
44 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 August 15, 1755. 
 " No, assuredly, my dear ninny [nigaud'] I shall not allow 
 to be wrecked in port an Establishment which ought to 
 immortalize the king, render the nobles happy, and make 
 known to posterity my attachment to the State and to the 
 person of his Majesty. I told Gabrielle to-day to arrange 
 to give Grenelle the necessary workmen to finish the work. 
 My income for this year has not yet been paid to me ; I 
 shall use it all in paying the workmen fortnightly. I don't 
 know if I can get any security for repayment, but I know 
 very well that I shall risk, with great satisfaction, one 
 hundred thousand francs for the welfare of those poor lads. 
 Good-night, dear ninny," etc. 
 
 If the tone seems a little bourgeois, the act was regal. 
 
 All the masters of the French school of that day painted 
 Mme. de Pompadour ; we have Boucher's portrait, also that 
 of Drouais, which Grimm preferred to all;^ but the most 
 admirable is certainly the pastel of Latour, in the Louvre. 
 It is there that we must see the marquise before we permit 
 ourselves to judge of her and form any idea of her person. 
 
 She is represented seated in an arm-chair, holding in her 
 hand a sheet of music; the left arm rests upon a marble 
 table on which is a globe and several books. The thickest 
 of these volumes, which touches the globe, is volume four 
 of the " Encyclopaedia ; " beside it lies the " Esprit des Lois," 
 the " Henriade," and the " Pasteur Fido," bearing testimony 
 to the tastes both serious and tender of the queen of this 
 place. On the table, at the foot of the globe, is a blue 
 volume turned face down, inscribed on its back "Pierres 
 gravies;" this is her work. One engraving is loose and 
 
 1 See this portrait in the Memoirs of the Marquis d'Argenson, VoL 
 Xni. of this Historical series. — Tr. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 45 
 
 hangs down; it represents an engraver at work and bears 
 the words, "Pompadour sculpsit." On the ground at the 
 foot of the table is a box full of engravings and designs, 
 marked with her arms ; it is fairly a trophy. Farther back, 
 between the feet of the console stands a Japanese vase (why 
 not a Sevres vase 1) ; behind her chair is another chair or 
 an ottoman with a guitar. But it is the person herself who 
 is at all points marvellous in elegance, sweet dignity, and 
 exquisite beauty. Holding the sheet of music lightly and 
 negligently, her attention is suddenly attracted ; she seems 
 to hear a sound and turns her head. Is it the king who 
 comes and is about to enter ? She has an air of expecting 
 with certainty, and she listens with a snule. Her head 
 thus turned shows the outline of her neck in all its grace 
 and her hair, very short and deliciously waved, the curls of 
 which are in tiers, their blond tints just visible through 
 a semi-powdering that scarcely covers them. The head 
 floats in a light-blue atmosphere which is, in general, that 
 of the whole picture. The eye is everywhere satisfied and 
 caressed. An azure light descends and glides over all the 
 objects. There is nothing in this fairy boudoir that does 
 not seem to pay court to the goddess, nothing, not even the 
 " Esprit des Lois " and the " Encyclopaedia." The flowered 
 satin gown gives place at the slope of the bosom to several 
 tiers of those ribbon knots which were called, I think, 
 " ^chelle de rubans," and which are here of a very pale lilac. 
 She herself has the flesh and tints of a white lilac, slightly 
 azured. This bosom, these ribbons, that gown, the whole en- 
 semble blends harmoniously, or rather, amorously. Beauty 
 shines in aU its glow in the opened flower. The face is 
 stOl young ; the temples have kept their youth and fresh- 
 ness ; the lips are equally fresh and have not yet withered, 
 as it is said they did from being too often bitten and con- 
 
46 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 tracted when forced to swallow anger or affronts. Every- 
 tking in the face, the attitude, expresses grace, taste supreme, 
 affability and amenity rather than gentleness, with the air 
 of a queen, which she needs must take, but which, after 
 all, is natural to her and is sustained without much effort. 
 I might continue and describe still more of the pretty de- 
 tails, but I prefer to stop and send spectators to the picture 
 itself ; they wiU there find many things I have not ventured 
 to touch. 
 
 Such, in her heyday, was this ravishing, ambitious, frail 
 woman, who was, nevertheless, sincere, who remained kind 
 in her eminence, faithful (I like to think this) in her fault, 
 serviceable when she could be, vindictive, nevertheless, when 
 pushed to it ; who was, after all, truly of her sex, and whom 
 her waiting-maid has shown to us in privacy without being 
 too burdensome and overwhelming a witness. Mme. du 
 Hausset's book leaves a singular impression; it is written 
 with a sort of naivete and ingenuousness which is honestly 
 preserved in the midst of vice : " ' This is what the Court is, 
 corrupt from top to bottom,' I said one day to Madame, who 
 was talking to me of certain facts within my knowledge. ' I 
 could tell you many others,' she answered ; ' but that little 
 side-room in which you sit must often teach you much.' " 
 
 Mme. de Pompadour, after the first glamour of fairy-land 
 was over, judged her situation for what it was, and, while 
 continuing to love the king, she kept no illusion as to his 
 nature, nor as to the species of affection of which she was 
 the object. She felt she was nothing to him but a habit, 
 and absolutely nothing else. " It is your staircase the king 
 loves," the little Mar^chale de Mirepoix said to her ; " he is 
 accustomed to go up and down it; but if he found another 
 woman who could talk to him of his himting and his busi- 
 ness it would be all the same to him at the end of three 
 
INTRODUCTION. 47 
 
 days." Mme. de Pompadour represented to herself those 
 words as the strict and sad truth. She had everything to 
 fear at every moment, for with such a man all was possible ; 
 a smile, or a more or less gracious look from him proved 
 nothing. " You do not know him, my dear," she said one 
 day to Mme. du Hausset, with whom she was talking of 
 some rival who was trying to supplant her ; " if he meant to 
 put her in my place this very evening, he would treat her 
 coldly before every one, and me with the greatest affection." 
 He acquired this slyness from his early education imder 
 Cardinal de Fleury. Finally she cries out from a secret 
 sense of her misery, and with an expression which cannot 
 fail to surprise us : " Ah ! my life is like that of the 
 Christian — a perpetual strife. It was not so with those 
 who won the good graces of Louis XIV." 
 
 But, in spite of all, she was the mistress who was fitted 
 for this reign, the only one who could have succeeded in 
 making something of it in the line of opinion, the only one 
 who could have diminished the crying discord between the 
 least literary of kings and the most literary of epochs. If 
 the Abb^ GaKani, in a curious page, loudly asserting his 
 preference for the period of Louis XV. over that of Louis 
 XIV., could say of this age of the human mind so fruitful 
 in results, "No such reign will again be met with for a 
 very long time," Mme. de Pompadour certainly contributed 
 much to it. That graceful woman rejuvenated the Court; 
 bringing to it the liveliness of her very French tastes, her 
 Parisian tastes. As mistress and friend of the king, as 
 protectress of the arts, her spirit was always fully on the 
 level of her role and rank; as a politician she failed, she 
 did harm, but not more harm perhaps than any other 
 favourite in her place would have done at that epoch, when 
 what we lacked in France was a real statesman. 
 
48 INTEODUCTION. 
 
 When she felt herself dying after a reign of nineteen 
 years, when she was forced at forty-two years of age to leave 
 these palaces, these riches, these heaped-up marvels of Art, 
 this power so envied, so disputed, but which' she retained in 
 her hands unbroken till her last day, she did not say, like 
 Mazaria, with a sigh, " Must I leave all this ? " She faced 
 death with a firm eye, and, as the rector of the Madeleine, 
 having come to visit her at Versailles, turned to go away, 
 she said, " Wait a minute, Monsieur le cur^ for I am going 
 too." 
 
 Madame de Pompadour may be considered as the last in 
 date of the mistresses of the king. After her, it is impossible 
 to descend and enter with decency into the history of the 
 Du Barry. The kings and emperors who have since then 
 ruled in France have been either too virtuous, or too de- 
 spotic, or too gouty, or too repentant, or too domestic, to 
 allow themselves such inutilities ; scarcely a vestige is now 
 seen of them ; Mme. de Pompadour remains the last in sight 
 in the history of France, and the most brilliant. 
 
 To return to Cardinal de Bernis and the history of his 
 ministry under Mme. de Pompadour, during the last year of 
 it (1758) he does, as it were, nothing but invoke, and call to 
 his aid M. de Choiseul. He seems to have early chosen and 
 promised him to himself as his successor 'as soon as he had 
 provided for the most pressing difficulties. His plan, after 
 the victories won by the King of Prussia at Eosbach, and at 
 Lissa, was to make peace. But what peace ? will be asked. 
 Could France and Austria negotiate on the morrow beneath 
 the blow of a double defeat? There is a sentiment of 
 dignity that goes before all else, of high national propriety 
 and of honour in the crown, as they said in those days. 
 This sentiment was in the heart of Maria Theresa, but 
 
INTRODUCTION. 49 
 
 Bernis had it not ; he reasons in all his letters very much 
 as Madame de Maintenon did in those she wrote to the 
 Princesse des Ursins, in which the word " peace " recurs on 
 every page. Bernis explains himself clearly in a letter to 
 Choiseul of January 6, 1758 ; he reveals to him his thought 
 before he imparts it to the king. 
 
 " My advice would be," he says, " to make peace, and to 
 begin it by a truce on sea and land. When I know what 
 the king thinks of this idea, which is not according to my 
 way of thinking, but which good sense, reason, and necessity 
 present to me, I will give you the particulars. Meantime, 
 try to make M. de Kaunitz [Austrian prime-minister] feel 
 two things that are equally true : that the king will never 
 abandon the empress, but on the other hand that he must 
 not be ruined with her. Our respective faults have made of 
 a great project, which, early in September, was infallible, a 
 broken neck and certain ruin. It was a fine dream which 
 it would be dangerous to continue, — though it might be 
 possible to resume it some day with better actors and 
 military plans more judiciously made. The more I have 
 been closely concerned in this great alliance, the more I 
 ought to be believed when I counsel peace." 
 
 That which Bernis evidently lacks in the whole of this 
 purely political portion of his career is the nature and stamp 
 of a statesman ; having neither that character nor the ap- 
 pearance of it, he did not know how to obtain over his 
 surroundings an ascendency which is never granted except 
 to those who cannot be refused. Comprehending as a man 
 of sense all the difficulties and the causes of the ruin, he 
 sees no other remedy than to renounce promptly what had 
 been undertaken with such levity. Choiseul, however, re- 
 sists this advice ; he sees the shame and danger of it ; he 
 makes objections and leads Bernis to explain himself on this 
 
 VOL. I. — 4 
 
50 INTEODUCTION. 
 
 peace which is of a nature to break up the alliance. Bernis 
 indicates his plan, which, after all, was never more than a 
 sketch ; it merely concerned, according to him, negotiating 
 separately with the King of Prussia ; but " the best way to 
 bring that king to reason is to make peace with England ; 
 and it is of that that I think night and day " (January 25, 
 1758). This idea of a private peace with the English for 
 which he had begun, he says, to build up little foundations, 
 became almost impossible after the Convention signed in 
 London, (April 11), between the kings of England and 
 Prussia, iuto which the Court of Versailles never entered. 
 
 He began this year of 1758 with the blackest anticipations, 
 too soon justified. A Colbert for the kingdom, a Louvois for 
 the war, and a Louis XIV. on the throne were, undoubtedly, 
 what was needed. Bernis has the merit of feeling, too late, 
 this utter void, this nothingness ; but while deploring 
 them he has nothing with which to fill them; he is not 
 of those who have the right to say, " I will ! " Nature did 
 not mark him on the forehead with the seal of command 
 and authority ; he pities himself perpetually and gives way. 
 
 In this series of lamentable confidences one feature in 
 these letters makes me smile ; I see, as it were, the seal 
 and colour of the epoch and the remains of a frivolity 
 which, in Bernis, still clung to the public man. In Peb- 
 ruary, 1758, in the midst of the gravest circumstances, he 
 accepts an elegant commission to be conveyed to M. de 
 Choiseul: "Do not forget, I beg of you, my commission 
 for a lady's dress, blue ground, embroidered in white silk on 
 some spring texture." Slight accident! M. de Choiseul 
 makes a mistake, the dress arrives with the despatches at 
 the end of March. " The ground is white and the flowers 
 blue, and I was asked to get a blue ground and white 
 flowers — but they like it just as well as it is." And farther 
 
INTRODUCTION. 51 
 
 on : " The gown is thought very pretty." The abbd-minister 
 •was not, we perceive, entirely on ill terms with chiffon 
 gallantry. 
 
 The situation on the side of France was growing worse 
 and worse daily. In this absence of all order and supreme 
 direction the Due de Eichelieu chose to return to Paris as 
 if he had nothing to do in Hanover; all the generals re- 
 quested their return. The Comte de Clermont, prince of the 
 blood, sent as commander-in-chief, made blunder after blimder. 
 He began by a precipitate retreat of exaggerated length, 
 which looked like a rout. It seemed as if this descendant 
 of the Great Cond^ saw nothing more urgent than to put 
 panic into the order of the day. Here, Bernis speaks with 
 nobler accent : " As for me, I would rather have destroyed 
 our army by a battle than by retreat ; I even believe that 
 such a course would have been to the preservation of the 
 men ... I thought I should die of shame and grief." And 
 in another place he adds : " I composed the letter which 
 the king wrote to the Comte de Clermont to prevent him 
 from quitting the Ehiae, where, inconceivable fact ! he thought 
 he was not in safety (April, 1758). The letter is firm and 
 decided. But it is not enough to be strong at one moment; 
 we must be so consistently and at all points. But how 
 attain it ? My only hope, which, after all, is only a woman's 
 or a child's sentiment, is that if I am not dead of our shame 
 it is possible that I am reserved to repair it. I would it 
 might be so and that I might die immediately after it." 
 
 Let us coimt to his credit such words, in which he is only 
 to blame for speaking a little too much of dying, and let us 
 draw a veil over the hideous and circumstantial exposure he 
 gives of the general degradation of that period — degradation 
 which had even invaded the camps, that last refuge of honour ! 
 It is not possible, even after the lapse of a century, to read a 
 
52 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 certain letter of Bemis, vpritten March 31, 1758, without 
 blushing. Never was the decadence of the monarchy of Louis 
 XV. more nakedly exposed ; we feel, from the nature of the 
 evil, that it is very near to dissolution. A few traits, never- 
 theless, in this disheartening future must be excepted ; the 
 soldiers worn-out with fatigue, have kept their willingness, 
 and are worth much more than those who command them. 
 Bemis concludes the letter with a few words in which 
 he does justice to the genius, so full of impetus, of the 
 French race. His words are profoundly true, applying them 
 — I do not say to the morals but — to the sentiments 
 and spirit of our nation, which we have seen more than 
 once turn and recover itself in a moment under a powerful 
 hand. 
 
 It is here that the insufficiency of Bernis and at the same 
 time his honesty manifest themselves ; he begins to be sick, 
 morally and physically. His nerves are affected; exposed 
 to the universal attack of public opinion which is now 
 wholly declared in favour of the King of Prussia, without 
 direct means of remedying the evils and disasters of each 
 passing day, obliged to provide for the subsidies of the allies, 
 sensitive to the fear of failing in his engagements if money 
 fails (and money is very often delayed), — under the press- 
 ure of aU this he utters cries of distress and does not 
 hesitate to enter into disagreement with Mme. de Pompadour. 
 She can permit all ; he owes her all, he will never quarrel 
 with her; but neither does he conceal what he considers 
 the fuU truth on the situation, and she does not thank 
 him for it. The finances, nominally directed by M. de 
 Boullongue, are exhausted ; aU resources depend on Paris- 
 Montmartel (brother of Paris-Duvemey) ; it is he who 
 supplies the funds, and the controller-general is, in a way 
 only his clerk. The coimtry is on the point of bankruptcy 
 
INTRODUCTION. 53 
 
 in April, 1758, for twelve millions of notes drawn for the 
 navy, which Bernis fears will be protested. 
 
 Here Bernis shows himself again subject to delusion, 
 rnied with the idea that what is wanted is unity of manage- 
 ment, a single motor, a prime-minister in fact, and with 
 some such title, he deludes himself so far as to believe that ; 
 it might be himself, that Mme. de Pompadour could desire 
 nothing better than that such a minister should be a friend 
 whom she could govern. He presents a memorial to the 
 Council on this subject, proving the necessity of a sole and 
 chief direction. Let us do him the justice to say that he 
 does not seem to have dwelt long on the idea of being 
 himself prime-minister. He inclines to propose the Mar^- 
 chal de Belle-Isle, who would reaUy, he thinks, exercise 
 authority. 
 
 In Paris, the exasperation of the public mind had reached 
 its height ui this summer of 1758, and it lasted imtil a few 
 successes of M. de Broglie the following year broke the 
 cruel uniformity of reverses. " They threaten me in anony- 
 mous letters," writes Bernis ; and a second defeat of M. de 
 Soubise would have sufficed to make the populace stone 
 Mme. de Pompadour in the streets of Paris. 
 
 By this time Bernis had reached a state that was one of 
 disease, of downright nervous exhaustion, infinitely honour- 
 able in its origin, but which must have made him little 
 fit to perform the r5le which, in his heart, he no longer had 
 any ambition to play. " Do not speak of me again for the 
 first influence," he writes in sincere tones to Choiseul; "you 
 do me wrong ; I seem to be prompting you and to be solely 
 ambitious, when I am really only a citizen and a man of good 
 sense." In August, 1758, he opens himself freely to Choiseul, 
 proposing to him to become his successor. This proposal 
 was not a lure ; Bernis thought what he said. His delusion 
 
54 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 was to suppose that after being the influential minister of 
 the first rank he could step back at will, associate with him- 
 self a colleague, not a rival, blend iutimately with him, and 
 under this agreeable form, which he defines himself as " two 
 heads xmder one cap," do good to the State, all the while 
 relieving himself of the sole and odious weight of the burden. 
 
 Choiseul is made duke (August, 1758). Bernis is about 
 to be made cardinal ; this is the moment when the minis- 
 terial combination meditated by the latter, and on which he 
 counts, is to be sealed and accomplished. But it was not 
 enough to persuade Choiseul and convince him that he 
 ought to be minister; it was necessary to also persuade 
 Mme. de Pompadour and the king. The proposal was not 
 at first agreeable to them. Bernis had drawn up a memorial 
 to the king in favour of Choiseul, which Mme. de Pompa- 
 dour was to give to him. She disliked and resisted the idea 
 of a change. We shall not get the key to this ministerial 
 revolution and its secret spring, which lies in the mental 
 condition of Bernis, unless we read the truly desperate letters 
 which he writes from time to time to Mme. de Pompadour. 
 They are not those of a minister or statesman ; it is a sick 
 man who writes and enumerates the symptoms by which 
 he is attacked, — colics that last ten hours, frequent and 
 increasing giddiness, obstinate insomnia.-' 
 
 One political idea mingles with the imeastness and grow- 
 ing agony of Bernis: M. de Choiseul was not so directly 
 committed as himself to the policy of the alliance, and on 
 his entrance to the ministry he would be free to break or 
 
 1 Sainte-Beure, when he wrote this, had no knowledge of Bernis' auto- 
 biographical memoir. The reader, who has the memoir in these volumes, 
 will see that Bernis, though his nerves gave way, was not a valetudinarian, 
 but an over-worked honest man, who tried to make headway with reason- 
 able ideas against the corruption, apathy, and intrigues around him, and 
 became worn-out, for a time, in the struggle. — Tk. 
 
EITRODTJCTION. 55 
 
 modify what had been done by others. " None but a new- 
 minister can make new engagements. The Due de Choiseul 
 is the only one who can maintain the king's system or 
 undo it." That is Bernis' just idea; but so long as he 
 applied it to himself personally and turned it agaiast 
 himself the idea became to him a stinging and intolerable 
 remorse ; and it is this which explains the word "dishonour " 
 which returns so often under his pen. "Eemember," he 
 writes to Mme. de Pompadour on the evening of September 
 26, " that it is impossible that I should be the one to break 
 the treaties which I have made." 
 
 It is not for us to reproach Bernis for so honourable a 
 sensibility; but it is evident that his morale was more 
 affected than was suitable in a man charged with conduct- 
 ing great public affairs, and that ministerial responsibility 
 would be henceforth too much for him. He sent his 
 memorial to the king, in which he developed with some 
 energy his motives, and gave an undisguised exposition of 
 the state of things. In it he continued to cling to his 
 chimera, namely to remain in the Council after resigning his 
 portfolio to M. de Choiseul, intending to help out the new 
 minister, and to be helped out by him. Louis XV., dis- 
 pleased, made no answer on that point ; he simply consented 
 to Bernis' resignation in favour of M. de Choiseul, in a letter 
 dated October 9, 1758. 
 
 Choiseul could do nothing but return at once from Vienna; 
 but the king and Mme. de Pompadour continued displeased 
 with Bernis. It was at this moment that he received the 
 cardinal's hat ; he had been loaded with favours and bene- 
 fits for the last two years ; appointed successively Abb^ de 
 Saint-Mddard, Abbd des Trois-Fontaines, and Commander of 
 the Saint-Esprit ; they might wonder, therefore, that he 
 wearied of serving at the very moment when he could 
 
56 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 scarcely obtain any furtlier increase of fortune. Malicious 
 remarks circulated ia the salons of Paris and Versailles ; 
 words were put into his mouth which he disavowed ; he was 
 made to say that he retired because he wanted peace and 
 Mme. de Pompadour did not want it. It was whispered 
 about that the king was angry with him for resigning the 
 ministry of Foreign Affairs. 
 
 During these last weeks, Bernis was kept explaining at 
 every turn ; the position, as it went on, became untenable. 
 The arrival of M. de Choiseul, at the end of November only 
 complicated matters; for, however loyal and sincere the 
 successor and the predecessor might be and were, it was im- 
 possible that good friends at Court should not do their best 
 to put them on bad terms. The delusion and, if I may say 
 so, the good nature of Bernis in this position, knowing the 
 Court as he did, show themselves in his not having consid- 
 ered in advance these difficulties, which were wholly inevi- 
 table, and came from the very nature of things. 
 
 Louis XV. cut short the difficulty by an order, which 
 Bernis received December 13, exiling him to his abbey near 
 Soissons ; a letter of his to the king written on receiving the 
 order, and another written in the evening of the same day 
 to Mme. de Pompadour, express sentiments of perfect sub- 
 mission and infinite gratitude for the past, without a single 
 word of complaint. 
 
 Four days later, from his chtteau of Vic-sur-Aisne, near 
 Soissons, where he was to pass his exUe, he wrote to M. de 
 Choiseul to assure him that he did not impute his dismissal 
 to him, and to regulate their future intercourse. His corre- 
 spondence with M. de Choiseul, taken as a whole, certainly 
 does not elevate Bernis ; it gives and fixes his measure as a 
 leading minister, and it answers a question which I put to 
 myself as I, entered upon this subject: he had not the 
 
INTRODUCTION. 57 
 
 stamina of a statesman, and after the excitement of Ms 
 first successes, his organization, put to too strong a test, 
 manifestly gave way. He was reserved, however, for a 
 second rSle, more sheltered, more pacific, where, limited to 
 diplomacy and official representation, he recovered the use 
 and full development of his happy qualities and his useful 
 courtesy. 
 
 As to the state of France in those fatal years and those 
 worst moments of Louis XV., the letters of Bernis are a very 
 sad revelation; and it is honourable for him to have been 
 the first to feel and to express that profound sadness which 
 they continue to communicate to the present day. At the 
 same time, we issue from the reading of these letters dis- 
 posed to do justice to M. de Choiseul, who, from a situation 
 so compromised, so lost in fact, was able to draw results 
 sufficiently specious, sufficiently brilliant to cast a veil over 
 the decadence of France, and raise the nation in its own 
 eyes, while awaiting its regeneration through convulsions, 
 and its entrance, valiant and rejuvenated (but always ac- 
 cording to the spirit of the chiefs who guided it), into the 
 sphere of its new destinies. 
 
 Let us return to the general character of Cardinal de 
 Bemis, whom I did not at fiirst intend to take so politically 
 nor in a manner so grave. That which seems to me especially 
 to be remarked in him, as in many personages of the upper 
 French clergy of the eighteenth century, is the mixture 
 of worldliness, philosophy and grace, which, little by little, 
 brought them, by good sense and good taste, to respect and 
 esteem; these prelates of rank, entering too lightly into 
 their calling, nevertheless acquired the spirit of it with age ; 
 they became at a given moment Churchmen in the best 
 acceptation of the word, without ceasing to be men of the 
 world and agreeable socially ; then, when persecution came, 
 
58 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 when the hour of trial and danger struck, they found within 
 them both courage and constancy ; they had the honour of 
 their calling; true gentlemen of the Church, they were 
 ready to share afifiiction and misfortune, as they had 
 formerly sought benefices and privileges. This was, with 
 few exceptions, the part played by the upper Trench clergy 
 during the Eevolution. Those of these prelates who survived 
 it, and who were seen to reappear after the Concordat, such 
 as the Boisgelias, the Baussets, and others, present to us a 
 special physiognomy, at once venerable and smiling; they 
 shiue in pure and polished literature of an elegance that is 
 tempered by holiness ; but Bernis is, in a way, the leader 
 and senior of them all. He died in Eome, stripped of every- 
 thing, in the height of the Eevolution, but he would have 
 worthily passed through all trials to its end. He was — if it 
 is permitted to thus interpret hearts — he was of those who, 
 in those memorable horn's when acts of sacrifice were de- 
 manded, recovered their catholic faith through Honour, and, 
 rising from the frailties of their past, became true Christians 
 through the force of being honest men. 
 
 In December 1758, Bernis, then just fallen from the min- 
 istry, was in exUe at Vic-sur-Aisne, near Soissons, and the 
 first months, in spite of his philosophy and the gentleness of 
 his soul, must have been rather painful to him. He had his 
 family near him, but he did not yet dare to receive his friends 
 or ask for the necessary permission to do so. M. de Choiseul 
 watched (and sincerely we may believe) for opportunities to 
 oblige him at Court and to serve htm ; he took the idea very 
 early of giving him the residence of Eome, but the way had 
 to be prepared for it. " On my side," Bernis writes to him, 
 May 14, 1759, "I am thinking only of binding myself to 
 my profession, and of giving to the course I take in this 
 direction the time, the reflection and the honesty which are 
 
INTRODUCTION. 59 
 
 due to my principles and my character. ... I shall always 
 be ready to serve the king when you think I can be useful 
 to him. It is in my heart to do so, but my situation does 
 not allow of my asking it. When I speak of serving the 
 king I do not mean, as you can well understand, an office 
 at Court, for on that point I have neither plan nor hope." 
 
 He was to enter the priesthood about the year 1760, being 
 then forty-five years of age. His nervous Olness still contin- 
 ued and made him desire a change of climate. The idea of 
 going to Eome as the king's minister pleased him much ; but 
 he desired not to go until he was a priest, and besides that 
 a bishop. There was talk as early as 1760 of giving him 
 the bishopric of either Lisieux or Condom ; the latter would 
 have suited him best, as being in his native region. But a 
 difficulty lay in the oath which he was required to take as 
 bishop before the king himself. Louis XV., who, although 
 he had neither bitterness nor animosity against Bernis, would, 
 have felt embarrassed and annoyed at seeing him again so 
 soon, rive long years went by, softened no doubt by visits 
 from friends and by the journeys and sojourns he was allowed 
 to make in the South among members of his family; but 
 for all that, they were five years of exile and forced separa- 
 tion from social life. It was not until January, 1764, that 
 his disgrace ended, and a ray of favour appeared ; on which 
 Bernis wrote as follows to Voltaire (January 16, 1764) : — 
 
 " The king has given me for a New Year's present, my dear 
 colleague, the best of aU benefits, — freedom, and the per- 
 mission to pay my court to him, which is most precious and 
 dear to a Frenchman who has been loaded with favours by 
 his master. I was received at VersaUles with all sorts of 
 kindness. In Paris the public showed its joy ; the makers 
 of horoscopes have had a himdred idle fancies on the subject, 
 each more extravagant than the others. As for me, who 
 
60 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 have long learned to bear both fortune and misfortune, I 
 have escaped from congratulations, real and false, and have 
 returned to my winter home, whence I shall go from time to 
 time to pay my duty at Versailles and to see my friends in 
 Paris. The older persons at Court have served me with 
 friendliness, so that my heart is much at ease ; and I have 
 never hoped for a position more agreeable, more free, more 
 honourable." 
 
 The horoscopes were too hasty ; Fortune is often slower 
 in deciding on her method of return than in giving her 
 first favours. Appointed Archbishop of Alby in the same 
 year (May, 1764), Bemis had to employ himself in his 
 diocese longer than he expected. He did so with pro- 
 priety and even with zeal, for he was good and had that hu- 
 manity which, at need, is ready for a time to do the office 
 and function of charity. Nevertheless, the sacred spark did 
 not inspire him ; ennui was frequent, and he had long hours 
 of distaste for his life. It was too much to have to practise 
 a second time and for so many years the saying of his youth, 
 " I will wait." In vain had he said, " I love Letters ; they 
 have done me more good than I have done them honour ; " 
 Letters alone did not suffice him. It was time that public 
 affairs and the world should return to occupy this lively and 
 brilliant intellect. Pope Clement XIII. died, and Bernis 
 received from M. de Choiseul, February 21, 1769, an order 
 to start without delay for the Conclave. Eome henceforth 
 was to be his residence and almost his country, for as soon 
 as the Conclave ended he was appointed ambassador and 
 his great career began once more. 
 
 During his years of exile and of residence in his diocese, 
 and even during the first period of his life in Eome, he kept 
 up a correspondence with Voltaire, which was published for 
 the first time in 1799, by M. de Bourgoing, and is very agree- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 61 
 
 able reading.^ Bernis does not pale at all before his formi- 
 dable correspondent. To judge properly of the tone of this 
 correspondence we must not forget the respective positions 
 of the two personages. Voltaire had known Bernis as a 
 poet and a man of gallantry ; he had seen much of him in 
 society and under his first form of frivolity and dissipation. 
 Bernis had, moreover, the honour of being his colleague in 
 the French Academy, where, singular to relate ! being twenty 
 years younger and with so slender a kit, he had preceded 
 him. There was, therefore, between them a familiarity of 
 good taste, the limits of which were rather undecided. Vol- 
 taire, when he saw Bernis become a cardinal, an archbishop, 
 and thus involved in the highest dignities of the Church, 
 was disposed to treat him with all flattery and laudation on 
 condition of mingling therewith more than one malicious 
 jest, and, if allowed to do so, more than one religious imper- 
 tinence. Bernis could not, without being pedantic and ridic- 
 ulous, appear to perceive all the irreverence of his colleague, 
 and still less to be shocked by it. It sufficed him to turn it 
 aside, indirectly, with a witty saying ; or sometimes, if Vol- 
 taire went too far, to recall him to propriety by disguising 
 the advice with praises. He does not fail to do this ; Bernis 
 has the merit of remaining true to himself in this correspon- 
 dence ; he knows how to take a jest, and he also knows how 
 to stop it discreetly when it passes the proper bounds. To 
 judge rightly of the spirit of these letters they should not be 
 taken in detached passages, but shovdd be read as a whole. 
 
 The first letter from Voltaire to Bernis is written near the 
 close of the latter's ministry, when he was about to be made 
 
 iThe correspondence with Voltaire is not included in these translated 
 volumes. But Sainte-Beuve's account of it is given here as affording the 
 reader a glimpse of a side of Bernis that does not appear in his other let- 
 ters, which are chiefly political or relating to public matters. — Te. 
 
62 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 a cardinal. Voltaire congratulates him the moment that he 
 hears of it : "I ought to feel more interest than others ia this 
 agreeable news, inasmuch as you have deigned to set my 
 caUuig above that of Cardinal Eichelieu." And he pushes 
 flattery, at the moment, so far as to say : " I do not know if 
 I deceive myself, but I am convinced that your ministry will 
 be fortunate and great ; for you have two things which have 
 gone out of fashion, — genius and constancy." 
 
 After this the correspondence stops and is not resumed 
 for three years ; it begins again during Bernis' exile (October, 
 1761) : " Monseigneur, thank God who has caused you to 
 still love Letters ! With that taste, a stomach that digests, 
 two hundred thousand francs a year, and the red hat, a man 
 is above all sovereigns ..." Bernis replies by at once 
 putting his witty correspondence on the tone and point that 
 he desires : — • 
 
 " I am not imgrateful, my dear colleague ; I have always 
 felt and owned that Letters have been more useful to me 
 than the most fortunate chances of my life. In my early 
 youth they opened to me an agreeable door into the world ; 
 they consoled me for the long neglect of Cardinal de Fleury 
 and the inflexible harshness of the Bishop of Mirepoix. 
 When circumstances pushed me, almost in spite of myself, 
 upon the great stage, Letters made the world say of me, ' At 
 any rate, he knows how to read and write.' I quitted them 
 for public affairs, but I never forgot them, and I now return 
 to them with pleasure. You wish me a good digestion ; that 
 is not possible now. For twelve years I have been very 
 temperate, but I have a gouty humour in my body which has 
 not yet fixed itself on the extremities, and may oblige me to 
 go and consult the oracle of Geneva [Doctor Tronchin]. In 
 this plan there is as much desire to see you again as to be 
 cured of my gout." 
 
INTRODUCTION. 63 
 
 Let me be permitted here to make a remark on the way of 
 living and diet of Bemis. It was not what might be supposed 
 from the accounts that are given of his sumptuous table, and 
 the plumpness that we see in his portraits. Bernis' cook was 
 already celebrated in the days of his embassy to Venice ; 
 and we have seen Algarotti fearing his temptations to glut- 
 tony, which he knew that he could not resist. The cook of 
 the ambassador to Eome had no less reputation, and Bernis 
 felt bound one day to write to M. de Choiseul in reply to foolish 
 rumours set afloat on the luxury of his table : " A good or a 
 bad cook makes people talk or say nothing about the cost of 
 an ambassador's table ; but that cost is none the less, whether 
 the table is well or ill served, though the result is very differ- 
 ent." It is recorded that Bernis, at the sumptuous table he 
 offered to others, lived himself frugally on a wholly vegetable 
 diet. " I dined at our ambassador's with Angelica Kaufmann," 
 writes Mme. Vig^e Le Brun in her Memoirs. " He placed us 
 at table on each side of him ; he had invited several foreigners 
 and a part of the diplomatic corps ; so we were thirty at the 
 dinner, of which the cardinal did the honours perfectly, 
 while eatiag himself only two little dishes of vegetables." 
 This was true of Bemis in 1790, and was already an old 
 custom with him in 1761. 
 
 Bernis also reduces what Voltaire says about his income of 
 two hxmdred thousand francs. He had not at that time one . 
 himdred thousand, nor even that until his debts were paid ; 
 but in the end he was fairly and honourably provided for. 
 " It is much," he says, " for a yoimger son of Gascony, even 
 if it is little for a cardinal. The deacons of the Eoman 
 church do not have as much ; and I am not sorry to be the 
 poorest of the French cardinals, because no one is ignorant 
 that it depended only on myself to be the richest." That 
 Bemis really had this tranqmllity and content of which he 
 
64 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 speaks, and that it was his fundamental condition during 
 his years of inaction and exile, I should not dare to say ; it is 
 enough that he tends towards it, and turns to it, whenever 
 possible, by reflection, and that his natural disposition is 
 never at war with his desire. 
 
 Voltaire sends Bernis some of his writings before publica- 
 tion ; he consults him on his tragedies and asks his advice, 
 which Bernis gives him in detail, conscientiously and with 
 sincerity. " Cassandra " was written in six days, and Voltaire 
 boasts of it, calling it "The Sis Days' Work." Bernis 
 advises him to put six more into improving the style of 
 the play and perfecting it. He gives his reasons as a 
 judicious critic and a good Academician. These innocent 
 consultations are interspersed with jests, more or less keen, 
 on all sorts of subjects. When Voltaire introduces politics, 
 Bernis evades them pleasantly. The name of Eichelieu 
 often returns to Voltaire's pen as if to convey an indirect 
 flattery : " Ah ! how people act and judge ! how few act well 
 or judge well ! Cardinal Eichelieu had no taste ; and, good 
 God ! was he as great a man as they say ? I have perhaps 
 at the bottom of my heart the insolence of ... ; but I 
 dare not ..." Bernis never answers these insinuations, and 
 turns a deaf ear to such exaggerated and, in fact, insolent 
 praise from a satirical man. 
 
 When, however, he is touched in a more truthful manner, 
 he makes answer, and does it admirably. Voltaire, seeing 
 him still in the inaction of private life, and excusing him- 
 self for finding nothing better with which to cheat the years 
 than the writing of tragedies, says to him : " But what is 
 there better to do ? Must we not play with life till the 
 last moment 1 Is not life a child to be rocked till it sleeps ? 
 You are still in the flower of your age ; what will you do 
 with your genius, your acquired knowledge, and aU your 
 
DTTEODUCTION. 65 
 
 talents ? That puzzles me. When you have built at Vic 
 you will find that Vic leaves a'great void in the soul, which 
 must be filled by something better. You possess the sacred 
 fire, but with what aromatics are you feeding it ? I own 
 that I am infinitely curious to know what will become of 
 a soul like yours." Bernis replies with a thought, and, so 
 to speak, a voice, of enchanting sweetness : — 
 
 "You are troubled for my soul in the void of idleness 
 to which I am henceforth condemned. Acknowledge that 
 you think me ambitious, like all my kind. If you knew 
 more you would know that I entered office a philosopher, 
 and that I left it more of a philosopher than ever, and 
 that three years of retirement have strengthened that man- 
 ner of thinking until it is now unshakable. I know how 
 to occupy myself ; but I am wise enough not to let the 
 public share in my occupations. To be happy I needed 
 only that liberty of which Virgil speaks : ' Quce sera tamen 
 respexit inertem.' I possess it in part; with time I shall 
 possess it wholly. A hand invisible led me from the 
 mountains of the Vivarais to the summit of"; honours ; let 
 it act ; it will know how to lead me to an honourable and 
 tranquil condition. And then, for my lesser pleasures, I 
 shall, in the order of nature, be the elector of three or 
 four popes, and I shall see again that portion of the world 
 which once was the cradle of the arts. Is not this enough 
 to rock that child which you call life?" 
 
 The singular sweetness of this philosophy, so truly Ho- 
 ratian, asks pardon for the UglreU that still mingles and will 
 long continue to mingle in it. Let us note, however, the 
 "hand invisible," which is not in Horace, and to which 
 Bernis confides himself ; and let us remember that when the 
 days of serious adversity and ruin come, the cardinal-arch- 
 bishop, hearing of the rigorous spoliation with which he 
 
 VOL. I. — 5 
 
66 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 and all the clergy of France are threatened, wrote to M. de 
 Montmorin : " You must have remarked, monsieur, on a 
 hundred occasions, that there never was a bishop-ambassador 
 of the king in Eome more moderate than I, more friendly to 
 peace, more conciliating; but, if I am driven to bay by 
 unjust and indelicate demands I shall remember that, at an 
 advanced age, a man should concern himself only in render- 
 ing to the Supreme Judge a satisfactory account of the 
 accomplishment of his duty." These last words of Bernis 
 ought to remain ever present with us as a height in the far 
 distance when we abandon ourselves with him to the amuse- 
 ments and human charms of the journey. 
 
 In action, he may have had his vanities, his illusions of 
 self-love, his desire to appear to have done more than he 
 really did do ; but in repose and in reflection, in presence 
 of himself, he is always modest. Voltaire, ia this less 
 human than he admits, laughs at times to see the King 
 of Prussia, his " old ingrate," worn-out, and the implacable 
 struggle of the himters and the wild-boar going on. " Laugh," 
 he cries, "and profit by the folly and imbecility of men. 
 Here, as I believe, is Europe at war for a dozen years. It 
 is you, by the way, who belled the cat. You gave me then 
 an infinite pleasure. . . ." Bernis is not at all proud of 
 the whole of that r5le which Voltaire attributes to him : 
 " "We will talk some other day of the bell you say I fastened. 
 ... I knew an architect to whom it was said : ' You are 
 to make the plan of this house, but be it understood that, the 
 work once begun, neither the diggers nor the masons nor the 
 mechanics are to be under your direction, and they will 
 set aside your plan as much as they please.' Whereupon 
 the poor architect flung down his plan and went to plant 
 cabbages." 
 
 He does not regret the ministry on the conditions under 
 
INTRODUCTION. 67 
 
 which he left it, and he sums up his political situation 
 by a decisive sajdng which is at once a very true judgment 
 and an honourable avowal in him who utters it : "I feel 
 with you how fortunate it is for me that I am no 
 longer in of&ce; I have not the necessary capacity to re- 
 establish matters, and I am too sensitive to the misfortunes 
 of my country." He tries to console himself as best he can, 
 to recompose in this idleness, which, let him say what he 
 will, languishes somewhat, an ideal of a philosophical and 
 sufficiently happy life : " Eeadiug, reflections on the past and 
 the future, a persistent forgetfulness of the present, walks 
 abroad, a little conversation, a frugal system, — all this 
 enters into the plan of my life; your letters will be the 
 charm of it." This last poiat is not mere politeness ; no one 
 could better enjoy than Bemis the miud and the superiority 
 of Voltaire in all that he did well : " Write me from time 
 to time ; a letter from you embellishes a whole day, and I 
 know the value of a day." The manner in which Voltaire 
 receives his literary criticisms and takes accoimt of them, 
 stirs him to applause : " You have all the characteristics 
 of a superior man : you do well, you do fast, and you are 
 docile." 
 
 Bernis has not, in literature, so timid and effeminate a 
 taste as one might think from his own verses. Voltaire 
 sends him on one occasion Shakespeare's "Julius Caesar" 
 and Calderon's " Heraclius," calling them farces or follies to 
 amuse him and put him in good-humour; to which Bernis 
 replies in a letter fuU of grace and good sense: "Our 
 secretary [of the Academy] has sent me Calderon's ' Herac- 
 lius,' my dear colleague, and I have just read the -Julius 
 Ceesar' of Shakespeare; both plays have given me great 
 pleasure as serving to show the history of the human miud 
 and the particular taste of nations. We must agree that 
 
68 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 those tragedies, however eztravagant and coarse they may 
 be, do not weary, and I must tell you, to my shame, that 
 these old rhapsodies, in which there are from time to time 
 flashes of genius and very natural sentiments, are less odious 
 to me than the cold elegies of our mediocre tragic writers." 
 It was not exactly with the intention of producing this result 
 that Voltaire had sent them ; the true and serious literary 
 lesson came from him who might have been thought the 
 least serious. 
 
 I fasten to the honourable sides of this correspondence, 
 to the parts which show in Bernis a man who has propriety 
 of bearing without pedantry, a gentle wisdom which does 
 not let itself be encroached upon. I read in the index of 
 the edition of Voltaire prepared by Miger for the estimable 
 Beuchot : " Bernis proposes to Voltaire to translate into 
 verse the Psalms of David." Absurd ! Bernis had too 
 much tact to make Voltaire any proposal of that kind. But 
 Voltaire is tempted constantly to send Bernis other things 
 than tragedies ; he would like to send him his Tales, his 
 lighter writings, " what pleases the ladies. But I dare not," 
 he adds, restraining himself with difficulty. To which Bernis 
 always answers, especially after he is an archbishop : " If 
 you send me verses, be sure that they are such as I can 
 boast of. I am neither a pedant nor a hypocrite, but surely 
 you would be grieved if I were not what I ought to be and 
 seem." And another day he says : " Send me your decent 
 Tales [Contes honnttes] ; and, as it is very reasonable that 
 I should preach to you a little, I beg you to sometimes quit 
 the lyre and the lute for the harp. That is a noble style 
 in which I am sure you could be more lofty, more moving 
 than any of your predecessors." That word " harp," lightly 
 used, is far indeed from being a proposal to Bernis to 
 "translate the Psalms!" 
 
INTKODUCTION. 69 
 
 There is a fine passage on Bernis' side in this corre- 
 spondence. Voltaire has sneered too flippantly on a certaia 
 day ; he has written to the cardinal a gay and even a jocose 
 letter for New Year's day (1767), sending him his tragedy 
 of « Les Scythes," and saying: "As for me, puny creature, I 
 make war to the last moment : Jansenists, Molinists, Fr^ron 
 Pompignan ; to right, to left ; and the Protestants, and J.-J. 
 Eousseau. I get a hundred thrusts, I return two hundred, 
 and I laugh. ... All is equal at the end of the day, and wiU 
 be stiU more equal at the end of all days." Bernis answers 
 him, and this answer, fuUy understood, is, from end to end, 
 a wise and noble lesson. First, he makes a few criticisms on 
 the tragedy of " Les Scythes," which are less remarks, he 
 says, than doubts : " I love your fame, and it is that which 
 makes me, perhaps, too difficult to satisfy." Then he con- 
 gratulates Voltaire on the talent which God has given him to 
 correct the follies of his epoch, and to correct them with a 
 laugh, making others who have retained a taste for " good 
 company laugh also. Writers sometimes ridicule this good 
 company before they are admitted to it, but it is very rare 
 that they seize its tone ; now, that tone is nothing else than 
 the art of never shocking any propriety." He poiats out 
 certain absiurdities of the day which are subjects ready-made 
 for ridicule. " It is droll," he says, " that pride rises as the 
 period lowers : to-day nearly all our writers want to be 
 legislators, founders of empires ; and all the gentlemen want 
 to pull down the sovereigns." And he ends by a counsel 
 which Voltaire too little regarded, but which if followed 
 would have been, in place of the universal sneer to which 
 he gave himself up, a supreme ideal for the great writer in 
 these years of his old age : — 
 
 "Laugh at aU that, and make us laugh," says Bernis, 
 developing his plan ; " but it would be worthy of the finest 
 
70 INTEODUCTION. 
 
 genius in France to end his literary career by a work which 
 would make men love virtue, order, subordination, without 
 which all society is in trouble. Gather up those traits of 
 virtue, humanity, and love for the general good which are 
 scattered through your works, and compose another which 
 shall make us love your soul as much as we admire your 
 mind. That is my prayer for this new year ; it is not above 
 your powers; you wQl find in your heart, your genius, in 
 your memory, so well furnished, all that can render your 
 work a masterpiece. It is not a piece of pedantry that I ask 
 of you, nor a stupid sermon, it is the work of a virtuous soul 
 and an upright mind." 
 
 It seems to me that we grasp in this passage the spirit 
 and meaning of Bernis' correspondence with Voltaire, and 
 that this leading desire and prayer redeems the rather risky 
 concessions which the gracious prelate seems to make in 
 other places to the allurements of his correspondent. For 
 myself, it is thus that I like to read the writings of celebrated 
 men, — drawing from them all there is of best and most 
 elevated ; it seems to me that this brings us nearer to the 
 truth, even from the point of view of history. 
 
 In explaining why he so little regrets the life of Paris 
 during the years of his exile, Bernis returns more than once 
 to the idea that politics have become too much an habitual 
 subject of conversation : " Men and women have to-day in 
 their heads the idea of governing the State. It is a per- 
 petual and wearisome dissertation, for nothing is so fi.at as 
 superficial politics.'' He repeats this thought with grace 
 and renewed vigour, summing up in a piquant manner the 
 various fashions and infatuations which he had witnessed in 
 his youth. " As regards Paris (1762), I do not desire to live 
 there until conversation is better, less passionate, less polit- 
 ical You have seen in our day how all the women had 
 
INTRODUCTION. 71 
 
 their witty man, then their geometrician, then their Abb6 
 NoUet ; now I am told they all have their statesman, their 
 politician, their agriculturist, their Duo de Sully. You feel 
 how wearisome and useless all that is ; so I await without 
 impatience the day when good company shall resume its 
 ancient rights ; for I find myself quite out of place among 
 all these modern little Machiavellians." 
 
 Bemis never retmned to live in Paris. What would he 
 have said on the approaches of '89 ? What would he 
 have said later? But he has the merit of having been 
 among the first to feel and point out that which was corrupt- 
 ing the witty, elegant, and lively taste, and the original 
 gaiety of our nation. 
 
 We have now seen enough to know what to think of 
 Bernis as to intellect and judgment. I am therefore sur- 
 prised to see with what indifference, with what a tone of 
 superiority, writers who are more or less historians have 
 spoken of him when they meet him as a witness and 
 diplomatic confidant of the great affairs of Eome. I have 
 read with care the principal works in which he is mentioned 
 as cardinal-member of the Conclave, in 1769, and afterwards 
 as ambassador to Eome for more than twenty years. These 
 works, which contain fragments, and even series of letters 
 and despatches from Bernis, during this last half of his life 
 are : " History of the Fall of the Jesuits," by Comte Alexis 
 Saint-Priest ; " Clement XIV. and the Jesuits," by M. Cr^- 
 tineau- Joly ; " History of the Pontificate of Clement XIV., " 
 by Pfere Theiaer; "History of the Pontiffs Clement XIV. 
 and Pius VI.," by M. Artaud. These various works, which 
 I am far from putting on the same line, and the last of 
 which is worthy of very little esteem, have this in common, 
 that they aU rely at every moment on documents emanating 
 from Bemis, and that their text in very many pages is made 
 
72 INTEODUCTION. 
 
 up of them. P^re Theiner is the writer who, having under his 
 eyes the greater part of Bernis' despatches, probably from the 
 minutes made after his death and deposited in the Vatican, 
 enables us to-day to form the best grounded and most com- 
 plete judgment on them. I shall here confine myself to 
 giving my general impression on Bemis' line of conduct in 
 Eome during his first years there, and in that famous nego- 
 tiation for the suppression of the Jesuits in which he took 
 much part. 
 
 Bernis arrived at Eome in March, 1769, and entered the 
 Conclave, which had then been open for a month. He had 
 not at first the leading influence which had been expected, 
 and on which he had been congratulated. He had his 
 apprenticeship to make ; he had prejudices to overcome. He, 
 who was soon to acclimatize himself so well in Eome, to es- 
 pouse its habits, and feel and contribute to its noble hospitality, 
 was at first severe, even to injustice against his colleagues, the 
 Princes of the Church, and towards the Eoman people in 
 general. His letters to the Marquis d'Aubeterre, ambassador 
 from France before him (letters which have been partly 
 published and give the bulletin and journal of the Conclave), 
 show a reverse side to the tapestry, which, in all matters, and 
 particularly sacred matters, cannot be divulged without escit- 
 ing some surprise and a sense of impropriety. It needs a very 
 judicious reader to correct the exaggerated and disproportioned 
 impression made upon the mind by such revelations; an 
 effect greater than the narrator himself intended to produce. 
 "We are shown a thousand indiscreet and rash conjectures, of 
 which nothing came. Bernis, perceiving in the last days of 
 the Conclave that Cardinal GanganeUi had the support of the 
 Spanish cardinals, rallied to him and contributed at the last 
 moment to make his election unanimous. But it cannot be 
 said (as so many have stated from courtesy, and as he allowed 
 
INTEODUCTION. 73 
 
 them, not unwillingly, to do) that he himself caused the 
 election. " It was he who made Pope Clement XIV., and 
 who formed his Coimcil," says Voltaire. Nothing could be 
 less true than that assertion. 
 
 He scarcely knew this pope ; at first he distrusted him ; 
 he believed he had formal and mysterious engagements with 
 Spain, contracted at the close of the Conclave, on the subject 
 of the abolition of the Jesuits. It was not until later, and 
 after more ample knowledge, that he saw his mistake on this 
 point, and returned to a more correct opinion of the man and 
 the pontiff. In December, 1769, Bernis, writing to M. de 
 Choiseul, says : " I found the pope in good humour on Mon- 
 day last ; his gaiety depends on his health and the persons 
 with whom he has been talking. His Holiness is sufficiently 
 master of his words, but not at all of his face. The more 
 one sees of him, the more one recognizes in him a basis of 
 justice, kind-heartedness, humanity, and the desire to please, 
 which makes him respectable and amiable. I am persuaded 
 that after the affair of the Jesuits is over every one will be 
 satisfied. He goes slowly, but he does not waver." Bernis 
 never departs from this judgment on Ganganelli 
 
 As to the part that he himself had to play in this affair of 
 the suppression of the Jesuits, which lasted four years be- 
 fore it was consummated, it is fully related in the work 
 of Pfere Theiner. Bernis personally was in no way hostile to 
 the famous Society. When it was suppressed ia Prance he 
 wrote to Voltaire : " I do not believe that the destruction of 
 the Jesuits will be useful to Prance. I think it would have 
 been better to govern them properly, without destroying 
 them." 
 
 But the affair once imdertaken, he regards it as policy, and 
 even as a necessity, to complete it. As for the means, he 
 desires and advises that they be slow, moderate, as humane. 
 
74 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 and as conciliating as it is possible to make an action of 
 such vigour. So, when he sees the Pope delaying, and 
 constantly opposing delays to the urgency of the powers, and 
 especially that of Spain, Bernis, though he thinks these 
 delays excessive, makes his Government understand that 
 they are natural, and to a certain point, necessary. 
 
 One day, at the beginning of the negotiation, Spain, and 
 subsequently France, wished to limit, by a sort of ultimatum, 
 the delay to two months. " I own," writes Bernis to M. de 
 Choiseul (August, 1769), " that if I had been elected pope I 
 should have destroyed the Jesuits, but I should have em- 
 ployed two years in doing it." Ganganelli took four ; it was 
 the same method, only carried a little farther. Bernis, aside 
 from the rare instants' when he was forced to take the initi- 
 ative, confined himself to assisting Spain, which imperiously 
 exacted of the pope the suppression of the Society ; but while 
 aiding the Spanish ambassador, he often strove to moderate 
 the harsh summons of that Court and to set aside all ways 
 of intimidating the pontiff, at the risk of compromising him- 
 self and seeming lukewarm to his allies. In thus acting he 
 was entirely true to the spirit of his instructions and to the 
 bent of his own individual nature. He ended by becoming 
 between the pope and the Spanish ambassador the usual 
 intermediary, and a conciliator who was agreeable to both. 
 " I am the anodyne to each," he says. 
 
 The summing up of Bernis' conduct in this great and long 
 affair lies in those words. He was as much of a mediator 
 as was possible in the most irritating of questions. He won 
 the esteem and the affectionate gratitude of Clement XIV., 
 who treated him with all the confidence that was in his 
 nature to bestow, and with a distinction which resembled 
 private friendship. One day the pope made him a gift of 
 various title-deeds and original documents concerning the 
 
INTRODUCTION. 75 
 
 church at Alby, adding to them a brief (letter) in which he 
 loaded him with marks of honour and proofs of tenderness. 
 Shortly before his death he appointed Bernis Bishop of 
 Albano, thus treating him altogether as a Eoman and a car- 
 dinal of the papal house. So, at the death of the pontiff, 
 when irritated passions sought to wreak vengeance on his 
 remains, and the catafalque, placed in Saint-Peter's, was not 
 safe from outrage diu-ing the novena of the obsequies, Bernis, 
 faithful to his friendship and respect for the illustrious dead, 
 kept, at his own cost, a guard night and day around the 
 coffin to preserve the inscriptions and prevent all scandal 
 
 Bernis, full of authority by this time and of influence in 
 the Conclave, contributed a good share towards the elec- 
 tion of Pius VI. (February, 1775), obtaining the new pope's 
 friendship and a degree more of confidence. During this 
 time he continued to represent France at Eome with dignity, 
 grace, and magnificence. All travellers who have spoken of 
 him echo this. Mme. de Genlis, who visited Eome during 
 these years, accompanying the Duchesse de Chartres, dwells 
 much on the reception the ambassador gave to her Eoyal 
 Highness. " Cardinal de Bernis, to whom I had announced 
 the arrival of Madame la Duchesse de Chartres, sent his 
 nephew, the Chevalier de Bernis, as far as Terni to meet 
 her, with two carriages, one magnificent to bring her to 
 Eome, the other supplied with an excellent dinner. The 
 cardinal received us with a grace of which nothing can give 
 the idea. He was then in his sixty-sixth year Pie was not 
 so old], in very good health, with a face of great freshness. 
 In him there was a mixture of honhomie and shrewdness, 
 nobleness and simplicity, which made him the most agree- 
 able man that I have ever known. I have never seen a 
 magnificence that surpassed his." After various details on 
 which she dwells with pleasure, and which prove to what 
 
76 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 point the splendid host knew how to mingle his pomp and 
 his Eoman lavishness with that Trench quality called pre- 
 cision, Mme. de Genlis adds : " Cardinal de Bernis gave 
 Madame la Duchesse de Chartres magnificent conversaziones, 
 that is to say, assemblies of two or three thousand guests. 
 They called him ' King of Eome,' and such he was, in fact, 
 through his magnificence and the esteem and consideration 
 which he enjoyed." 
 
 Cardinal de Bernis speaks of himself less emphatically ; 
 and he tries sometimes to excuse the grandeur of the es- 
 tablishment. " I keep," he says, " the inn of France in the 
 public square of Europe." He had his palace on the Corso, 
 where he held his Court, and his house at Albano for the 
 villegiatura. Show with him was only external. " He has," 
 says President Dupaty, "the readiest welcome, the most 
 equable intercourse." The character of his politeness was 
 easy and graded, just as his mind seemed, towards the last, 
 more gentle and reposeful than brilUant. 
 
 The events of the Eevolution came to put his firmness 
 to the proof. He saw this almost royal opulence, which he 
 had enjoyed for nearly twenty years, and which he used 
 with a truly august liberality, escape him suddenly, and 
 poverty return when he was sixty-six years old; he con- 
 tinued the same man. « When turned of sixty-six years of 
 age," he says, " we ought not to fear poverty — only this, 
 that we may not fully do our duty." I have already quoted 
 many of his noble sayings. He understood the question 
 posed by the Constituent Assembly to its fullest extent, and, 
 forestalling, as early as November, 1790, the hour of the 
 « Concordat," he says : « If men really loved Good, peace, 
 and order, if they were attached to religion, which alone is 
 the support of all authority and of all forms of government, no 
 pope would ever be so drawn towards conciliation as this 
 
INTRODUCTION. 77 
 
 one. But if the purpose is to destroy all and make a new 
 religion, we shall meet with difficulties greater than we 
 know. The deep roots of religion are not to be torn so 
 easily out of the hearts and minds of a great kingdom." 
 
 It is on these last words that we like to rest with Bernis. 
 The circle of his life is accomplished, and he shows as he 
 ends it that his amiable, prudent, and fine qualities, joined to 
 delicacy of heart, may become virtues. 
 
 On the 5th of January, 1791, being summoned to take the 
 oath exacted by the new Constitution, he sends it, adding 
 an interpretative and restrictive clause. Informed that the 
 National Assembly required the oath to be taken as it was, 
 pure and simple, and warned that he exposed himself to be 
 recalled if he persisted in his restriction, he answered, 
 February 22 : " Conscience and honour do not permit me to 
 sign without modification an oath which obliges me to 
 defend the new Constitution, of which the destruction of the 
 ancient discipline of the Church is an essential feature." 
 The recall was given. 
 
 Thus was closed his long and honourable diplomatic 
 career. He died in Eome, ISTovember, 1794, in his eightieth 
 year. After the loss of his salary in France, he subsisted 
 on a pension granted to him by the Court of Spain. Happy, 
 nevertheless ; and favoured to the last in being able by his 
 final sacrifices to redeem and expiate, in a way, the laxity of 
 his early life ; confessing a religion of poverty through salutary 
 adversity, and proving that there was in him, under all 
 forms, both amiable and dignified, a sincere foundation of 
 human and Christian generosity. 
 
TRANSLATOR'S NOTE. 
 
 The following volumes contain Cardinal de Bernis' own 
 Memoirs, and the letters to M. de Choiseul, Mme. de Pom- 
 padour, and Louis XV. to which Sainte-Beuve refers. At the 
 time the latter wrote his essay (1853) the Memoirs were not 
 published, and he appears not to have known of them. M. 
 Tr^d^ric Masson, librarian to the ministry of Foreign Affairs, 
 obtaiaed them from the family of Cardinal de Bernis and 
 first published them, together with the letters above named, 
 in 1878. From that edition this translation is made.^ 
 
 The following is M. Masson's account of these documents : 
 
 " The Memoirs, the existence of which was known and 
 afiBrmed by the editor of the Paris-Duvemey letters (1790), by 
 the Chevalier d'Azara (1795), by M. Albert de Boys (1843), 
 and lastly by the Due de Broglie (1870), but of which no 
 extracts have been printed up to the present time, are now 
 intrusted to me by the Bernis family, on the testimony 
 which M. P. Fougfere, minister plenipotentiary and director 
 of the Archives of Foreign Affairs was good enough to give 
 of me. General the Vicomte de Bernis had long determiued 
 to make this publication. He had prepared the principal 
 elements of it, and I have only annotated and put in order 
 the materials he had collected. . . . 
 
 " The manuscript of the Memoirs is not in the handwriting 
 
 1 "Mtooireset Lettres de Franfois-Joachim de Saint-Pierre, Cardinal de 
 Bernis. Publics avec autorization de sa famille, d'apr&s les manuscrits 
 in^dits; par Fr^de'ric Masson; Biblioth^caire du Ministfere des Affaires 
 Etrangferes." 2 vols. Paris. E. Plon et Cie. 1878. 
 
80 TEANSLATOE'S NOTE. 
 
 of the Cardmal. It was dictated by him to his niece, the 
 Marquise du Puy-Montbrun, and is entirely written by her. 
 For a century, except for a time when it was in the hands of 
 the Chevalier d'Azara, editor of ' Eeligion Avenged ' and of 
 the Correspondence between Voltaire and Bernis, it has been 
 steadily in the possession of the Bernis fanuly. Its authen- 
 ticity is therefore, a 'priori, indisputable ; and if it were nec- 
 essary to find proofs a posteriori, the text of the Memoirs 
 offers others no less positive. 
 
 " As for the series of private letters addressed by Bernis to 
 the king, to the Marquise de Pompadour, and to the Due de 
 Choiseul-Stainville, their authenticity is no less incontestable. 
 In 1825 M. de Barante revealed the existence of these letters 
 in the ' Eevue Frangaise,' and gave some fragments of them. 
 In 1853 Saiate-Beuve drew from them one of his brilliant 
 articles. And, lastly, in 1873 M. Aubertia used them in a 
 volume entitled 'L'Esprit public au XVIII™ Sifecle.' It 
 was, doubtless, from a copy — either that in the archives of 
 the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, or that in the possession of 
 the Chancellor Pasquier — that all these writers drew their 
 information. At first, I had myself the manuscripts of the 
 Ministry of Foreign Affairs ; but hearing that the Due de 
 Mouchy possessed certain interesting papers on Cardinal de 
 Bernis, I addressed myself to Mm, and he was good enough 
 to confide to me the precious volume containing all the letters 
 written by Bernis and the letter to him of Louis XV. It is 
 from these autograph documents that I have been permitted 
 to collate the present edition." 
 
 It is interesting to observe how the Memoirs, published 
 twenty-five years after the date of Satate-Beuve's essay, 
 confirm the analysis therein made of Bernis' character. 
 
MEMOIRS AND LETTERS 
 
 OF 
 
 Francois-Joachim de Pierre, 
 Cardinal de Bernis. 
 
 LETTER 
 
 WRITTEN TO MY NIECE, THE MARQUISE DU 
 PUY-MONTBRUN. 
 
 I CHOOSE you for my secretary, my dear niece, and almost 
 for my confessor ; I could not give you a greater mark of 
 friendship and esteem, if it be true that unlimited confidence 
 is the proof of both. 
 
 I wiU now explain to you the intention of these Memoirs. 
 It is natural to men to leave behind them a monument of 
 their existence ; they also feel a certain sweetness in recall- 
 ing the principal events of their lives ; self-love finds its 
 gratification in all that; and I shall not deny that I am 
 susceptible up to a certain poiut of a weakness so natural : 
 but as I do not wish to hide from you my most secret 
 thoughts or my inmost feelings, I shall tell you in all sin- 
 cerity that the chimera of making myself talked of after my 
 death is not the object I propose to myself in dictating to you 
 the Memoirs of my life. My intention and my most posi- 
 tive orders are that this work shall not see the light, even 
 
 VOL. I. — 6 
 
82 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF 
 
 after my death. You will regard that clause as the most 
 explicit article ia my wUL You must therefore avoid with 
 the greatest care allowing any one to take a copy of this me- 
 moir ; and you must confide the trust after you to safe and 
 tried hands. You will perceive in the course of the work 
 the essential motives which make, for me as well as for you, 
 this reserve into a law. I shall tell the truth ; and truth 
 cannot be shown ia its nudity without great impropriety. 
 
 My design in telling you the history of my life is to in- 
 struct you and correct myself, to confirm me ia priaciples 
 of which I have experienced the good, to strengthen me 
 agaiast ideas whose false gleams have dazzled or led me 
 astray, aad to gather from my past life useful instructions 
 for the future. The pleasure of distracting and occupying 
 my miad at a time when I am deprived of work enters for 
 much, I acknowledge, in this employment; not to speak 
 of the iaterest that I take ia your children. If they are 
 destined to lead a private life, they will find ia the first 
 periods of miae examples to follow and faults to avoid. If, 
 on the contrary. Providence calls them to great offices, they 
 will see what the force of circumstances can do withia the 
 space of ten years to lift men up and throw them down; 
 they will learn to count duty as everything and fortune as 
 nothiag; or, perhaps, after seeiag the faults I committed 
 as a courtier, they may leara how to conciliate with more 
 art than I did the obligations of a minister with the neces- 
 sity of pleasing the Court. That art is difficult, I own ; the 
 hand must be light iadeed which can practise it ia such a 
 manner that faithfulness and integrity shall not receive 
 the slightest shock. 
 
 I shaU divide these Memoirs into three parts. The first 
 will contata the eveats of my private life. Ia the second 
 I shall treat of the most remarkable epoch of my life; I 
 
CAEDINAL DE BBRNIS. 83 
 
 mean that in which I devoted myself to public affairs. The 
 third part will contain my views and principles, with a few 
 political memoranda, the most important of which and the 
 most secret being retained in the archives of the Foreign 
 Affairs. Any one may compose, if he likes, a fom-th part 
 from my literary works. The first amusements of my youth 
 being no longer suited to the serious profession I have 
 embraced . will be arranged under the dates at which they 
 were written, in order that persons may not attribute un- 
 justly (as they frecLuently do) to the Cardinal what belonged 
 to the Comte de Bernis in his earliest youth, before he 
 bound himself in any manner to the Church or the ministry. 
 
 I shall write in chapters, because this form is more con- 
 venient ^ and the facts can be more easily classed and with 
 better order ; besides which, as I do not wish to fatigue my 
 mind or my memory by this method, I shall not be a slave 
 to exact chronological order, nor to the thread of a too 
 connected narrative. I shall study myself chiefly to make 
 you understand my mind and that of the epoch in which 
 I have lived. I shall paint my soul and that of others, less 
 concerned to retrace events than to develop their causes and 
 their impulse. 
 
 In regard to style : do not expect me to employ much art ; 
 it is long since I have renounced academic adornment. 
 Assuredly, I do not despise eloquence, but I do not place it 
 in the symmetry of words : we lose much time in writing 
 with a certain elegance ; it is easier, shorter, and perhaps 
 more agreeable to express one's thoughts very simply. 
 
 Finally, you must not be scandalized when I say good 
 of myself; the foundation of my nature is modesty, but I 
 
 1 As many of these chapters are very short, some of them not more 
 than two or three pages and therefore very wasteful of space, several are 
 put together in the following translation. — Te, 
 
84 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 
 
 do not believe I fail in it by thinking of myself as favour- 
 ably as a judge would do if he read to the bottom of my 
 heart. 
 
 Now that is enough to make you understand the object 
 of these Memoirs. In choosing you, at the age of twenty- 
 three, to write them at my dictation, I give, as I believe, 
 great praise to your manner of thinking and to your 
 character. 
 
MEMOIRS. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 1716-1735. — My Birth. — Childhood. — Education. — My Coming to Paris. 
 — Entrance at the Seminary. — My Journey to Languedoc. — Eeturn 
 to Paris in 1735. 
 
 I WAS 1)0111, May 22, 1715, in the chateau de Saint-Marcel, 
 on the Ard^che, ia Vivarais. The seigneurie of that little town 
 has belonged to my family for four hundred years. It is a 
 good title of nobility ; it is as indisputable as the possession, 
 never interrupted, of the same fief. The magistracy of this 
 estate was formerly much divided. In other days Saint- 
 Marcel was the residence of various seigneurs, some of whom 
 were considerable, as much by their birth as from their 
 possessions. To-day the Marquis de Bernis, my brother, 
 is the sole possessor of the estate, which, from its extent and 
 the beauty of its scenery, is one of the principal in the 
 Vivarais. The king, by letters-patent, has erected this 
 estate into a marquisate under the name of Pierre-Bernis. 
 
 My family name (for only princes of the blood-royal 
 should say " house ") is de Pierre, Latin Petri. The name 
 is very ancient in the province of Languedoc; it is cited 
 with distinction in the history of the first crusade. The 
 name Bernis has been borne for four centviries by the 
 younger sons of the family, who have never faUed to in- 
 clude in their titles the rank of seigneurs of this estate. 
 
86 MEMOIKS AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 
 
 which is situated between Nimes and Lvmel. This care on 
 their part shows the attention they paid to preserving their 
 rights in this possession, which entered the family of their 
 ancestors in 1245 through a marriage. 
 
 But I do not pretend to make our genealogy here ; I have 
 known, all my life, how to appreciate, better than others, 
 the fortuitous merit of birth. I shall have occasion, in the 
 course of these Memoirs, to express myself on what concerns 
 nobility. Those of you who wish to know more about our 
 origin have only to read the article in Mor^ri concerning 
 me ; it is done with simplicity and truth ; and is confirmed 
 by indisputable title-deeds. I shall content myself by 
 saying here, for the honour of my race, that the heads of our 
 family were all great seigneurs, and the younger sons, from 
 whom I descend, have been distinguished by their fidelity to 
 their princes, their attachment to the Catholic religion, their 
 military services, and by the most scrupulous integrity. My 
 branch, in particular, has a considerable advantage in never 
 having injured by any bad alliance the purity of its origin. 
 My paternal grandmother was so well-born a damoisel that 
 she gave me a double descent from the royal house, and 
 from alliances with the greatest families in Europe. All 
 this is amply set forth in my proofs for the Order of the 
 Saint-Esprit. 
 
 My father, who was born with all the advantages that 
 usually lead a gentleman to great fortune, for want of 
 prudence and patience never derived any benefit from twenty 
 years' service. Born for war and for society, he had the 
 barren reputation of being a good officer and an agreeable 
 man. In 1704 he asked for a regiment of cavalry, and they 
 offered him one of infantry; he refused it and left the 
 service, after having squandered about a hundred thousand 
 crowns. 
 
1715-1735] CARDINAL DB BERNIS. 87 
 
 My mother, Elisabeth du Chastel de Condres, who had 
 been married as an heiress, on account of the disinheriting 
 of a brother, was reduced to a very small patrimony by the 
 discovery of an entail which settled aU the property of her 
 family on the males. She therefore brought my father only 
 a small estate, a very ancient name, fine alliances, much 
 intelligence and virtue, a taste for letters, but little talent to 
 re-establish the affairs of a household. My father, who 
 advised his friends well, always took the worst counsels for 
 himself ; he had abandoned for a small sum in ready money, 
 (which, by the way, he valued highly) his assured rights to 
 the considerable property of the Vicomtes Gourdon and de 
 Blou-Laval. Eeduced to a very small income he kept his 
 gaiety, and never lost the tone of society in his retirement. 
 Gay with others, ill-humoured at home, he treated his 
 daughters harshly, made an effort to educate his two sons, 
 but refused to buy for the eldest a suitable employment 
 in the army. This species of inhumanity broke my brother's 
 neck, for he was bom with all the talents necessary for war, 
 with a mind and a strength of body which would have done 
 him even more honour in the days of chivalry than in our 
 age. He could have attained to everything. 
 
 My sisters were not better treated than my brother. The 
 eldest, condemned by her father to the cloister, only escaped 
 that rigorous sentence by the charms of a pleasant face and 
 the reputation of a gentle and cultivated mind. These 
 advantages made the Marquis de Narbonne-Pelet, the head 
 of that ancient and illustrious house, ask her in marriage 
 without a dot. My second sister, who was endowed only 
 with a good heart, had the merit of refusing to be a nun when 
 her father tried to compel her to it ; but she afterwards took 
 that course voluntarily when she became the mistress of her 
 own fate. As for me, I have none but thanks to give to my 
 
88 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 
 
 father. He never refused anything to my early education ; 
 and later, when he diminished the help he was giving me, 
 I had found resources within myself and was flying on my 
 own wings. I therefore respect and cherish my father's 
 memory ; my supreme happiness would be to still have 
 hiTTi with me, to share with him the fortune he never 
 doubted I should attain, and thus enjoy the society of the 
 gayest, most eleq^uent man and the best company I have 
 ever met, in Paris, at Court, or in foreign lands. 
 
 My birth nearly cost my mother her life, and I have often 
 attributed, with some appearance of reason, the infirmities 
 under which I have suffered to the long labour of her confine- 
 ment. Being the younger son, I was nursed in the country 
 in a rustic cottage which I have often seen again with pleas- 
 ure. My nurse, who was a good farmer's wife, had but little 
 milTc and she soon accustomed me to eat cabbage-soup and 
 lard ; and perhaps I owe to that coarse food the strength of 
 my organs which have so often resisted violent maladies. 
 My intelligence was not long iu developing. If the facul- 
 ties of memory are a proof of it, I can remember quite dis- 
 tinctly the time I was weaned ; and my first sensation was 
 the astonishment produced in me by the shadow of bodies ; 
 I looked, without fear but with intense surprise, at those 
 phantoms which appeared in the light against the wall of 
 my room and grew shorter and longer in a manner so excit- 
 ing to my curiosity, but which I could not comprehend. It 
 might not be useless to the history of the human mind to 
 coUect with more care than has yet been done the first sen- 
 sations and dawning ideas of childhood. As soon as I could 
 walk and turn my eyes above and below and around me, 
 nothing struck me more than the spectacle of natiu:e ; I never 
 wearied of looking at the sky and the stars ; of examining 
 the changes that .took place in the air; of following the 
 
1715-1735] CAKBINAL DE BERNIS. 89 
 
 movement of the clouds and admiring the colours painted on 
 them ; the rocks, brooks, and trees attracted my attention no 
 less. I examined, not with the eyes of a naturalist but with 
 those of a painter, all insects and plants. I would often pass 
 hours in watching the different spectacles of nature. The 
 observations I made in my childhood were so impressed upon 
 my memory that when I cultivated poetry I found I had more 
 talent and foundation than others for painting nature in true 
 and sensitive colours. 
 
 The distinctive character of my mind has always been re- 
 flection ; I reflected as soon as I could think. I do not mean 
 that I was not a child with others of my age ; but from the 
 time I was six years old I preferred to all amusements the 
 pleasure of listening to people who talked well ; my father 
 was often surprised that I stayed with him when I might 
 have been frolicking with my comrades. This singularity 
 began to give me a reputation for intelligence, which was 
 increased by reflections which were thought beyond my years. 
 I shall not repeat here the clever sayings of my childhood ; 
 I thought them dull and insipid when repeated to me ; but 
 it is nevertheless true that a child is beyond others when he 
 has more ideas than those of his age. 
 
 My mother, who was very pious, and had enough intelli- 
 gence to teach virtue without mingling it with pettiness, im- 
 pressed upon me early a love and fear of God ; those feelings 
 have never been effaced. I have never loved any thing so 
 much as God, although in my youth I loved many things very 
 keenly and even madly. I owe, therefore, to my mother a 
 love of religion, and to my father, who was not pious but who 
 had a lofty soul, nobility of sentiments and attachment to 
 Honour. 
 
 I was destined to be a Knight of Malta. That military 
 career, to which I was vowed from my cradle, had turned aU 
 
90 MEMOIES AND LETTERS OE [chap. i. 
 
 my inclmations to the side of war. This taste of my child- 
 hood is not entirely destroyed ; I have often found in my 
 mind many views relating to the military art, and I have 
 sometimes regretted that it was no longer the fashion to put 
 cardinals at the head of armies. 
 
 I shall finish this account of my childhood by two reflec- 
 tions which thousands of people have made, but which are 
 none the less important. I was bom with much courage, 
 intelligence, and bodily strength, yet the trumpery tales of 
 nurses and chambermaids inspired me with a ridiculous 
 terror of ghosts and witches. For twenty years of my life I 
 was more afraid of the dead than of the living. Neither 
 reason nor instruction would alone have sufficed to calm 
 this ridiculous but mechanical fear. I owe the cure of this 
 malady to an adventure which will find its place later, if I 
 happen to think of it. 
 
 The second reflection that I wish to make is that nothing 
 is so dangerous for morals and perhaps for health as to leave 
 children too long under the care of chambermaids, or even 
 of young ladies brought up in the chateaux. I will add that 
 the best among them are not always the least dangerous. 
 They dare with a child that which they would be ashamed 
 to risk with a young man. I had need of all the sentiments 
 of piety which my mother implanted in my soul to preserve 
 my youth from great corruption. 
 
 My mother gave me the first instructions in Christianity, 
 and the first notions of reading and writing. But they soon 
 gave my brother and me a tutor, a worthy and well-informed 
 man. I learned from him the elements of the Latin language, 
 and to him I owe the taste I have always kept for reading 
 good books. As soon as I could read and pronounce, the 
 cadence and harmony of verse struck my ear; I lisped 
 rhymes before I knew how to write prose ; they noticed this, 
 
1715-1735] CARDINAL DB BEENIS. 91 
 
 and they carefully took away from me books of poetry. My 
 mother, whose father was the best song writer of his region, 
 had rather more indulgence for my little talents. I used to 
 show her my productions secretly, and she had the kindness 
 and patience to correct them. Her astonishment was very 
 great to find that my verses bristled with Gallic words, and 
 she could not understand how I came to use terms that were 
 out of date by a hundred years. I took good care not to re- 
 veal the source of my erudition ; it was an old copy of Eonsard 
 which I kept hidden under my bed and to which I owed my 
 fine knowledge. He was my first master in poesy, but I 
 proved to be only an ungrateful pupil, for I have carefully 
 avoided imitating him all my life. They said that I made 
 passable verses when the Infanta of Spain (now Queen of 
 Portugal) was sent back to Madrid. What was singular in 
 this talent so early shown for poesy is that the farther I 
 advanced ia a career of study, the more my fancy for versifi- 
 cation weakened, until it was extinguished altogether. It 
 did not wake up again before I was eighteen years old, as 
 we shall see later. 
 
 I said that they gave me an honest man for a tutor. He 
 left me at the end of two years to take degrees in the 
 Faculty of medicine in Paris. This excellent man, named 
 Lejeune, was replaced by a Seminarist, whose Hi-directed 
 piety had heated a head already narrowed by nature and 
 education. This worthy personage made me fast on bread 
 and water on the eve of all the feast-days, compelled me to 
 leave half my dinner for my guardian angel, made me say 
 my prayers four times a day with my knees on iron spikes, 
 ordered me to wear bracelets of the same metal also spiked, 
 chastised me, not to correct me, but to feed me with the 
 spirit of repentance. It would have been a great crime to 
 complain, a crime which would have been very severely 
 
92 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OP [chap. i. 
 
 punished. My parenta did not know of my hidden auster- 
 ities until they saw the abscesses which came on my knees 
 and wrists. They dismissed the pious fanatic, and I passed 
 successively under three or four preceptors, ignorant, brutal, 
 or licentious. I here warn fathers and mothers that they 
 ought to forbid the tutors of their sons to correct them with 
 the whip or discipline [whip made of small chains]. 
 
 "Without being more of a rogue than other boys, I passed 
 three years under the rod. Anger, at last, got the better of 
 me, and after vainly meditating various projects of vengeance, 
 my head being full of the "Comte de Gabalis," a book 
 that I believed to be full of all the mysteries of the cabala, 
 I resolved to vow myself to the powers of hell, to become 
 a great magician, and transform my unworthy tutor into a 
 stone or a tree; and with this resolution I rose one morn- 
 ing at four o'clock and went into a solitary place at day- 
 break; there I made my invocations and conjurations, but 
 all to no purpose. Nothing appeared. Then, believing that 
 the powers of darkness might appear to one more readily in 
 obscurity, I went down into a cellar, not without some fear. 
 My trepidation became terror when, having begim my invo- 
 cation in a loud voice, there issued from beneath the casks 
 a big black cat, which rushed, miauling, between my legs, 
 and which I took to be the devil. My hair stood on end 
 and I fled hastily, believing that all hell was after me. 
 This adventm-e made me reflect. Eemorse followed reflec- 
 tion ; I confessed first to my mother, who did not fail to 
 frighten me with the enormity of my crime; she was too 
 well educated, however, not to know how to appreciate it. 
 I was only seven years old ; but they made me confess to 
 the grand-vicar, and I was absolved. Since then I have not 
 had much taste for sorcery. 
 
 Disgusted with domestic education, my father resolved to 
 
1715-1735] CAEDINAL DB BEENIS. 93 
 
 send me to the Bamabite school in the Bourg-Saint-Anddol, 
 in Vivarais, a little town known for some very remarkable 
 antiq^uities. Here I cannot dispense with making one ob- 
 servation. The profession of tutor ought to be more honoured, 
 for it is one of the most important; but those who fill that 
 post are, at best, regarded as the head servants of the 
 household; their wages being very paltry, their rewards 
 none at all or very uncertain, how can you find on such 
 terms instructors who are capable of forming the minds and 
 hearts of young men ? Domestic education has other draw- 
 backs; it nourishes vanity in children; they think them- 
 selves superior in rank because they hear their parents and 
 their valets say so ; their ideas are narrowed to the conver- 
 sations of their fathers and mothers. In a word, I prefer 
 school education to family education, because in schools boys 
 are equally corrected by the lessons of their superiors and by 
 their comrades ; the latter never allow an absurdity to pass, 
 nor any false pretence ; they accustom each other to recipro- 
 cal consideration, and prepare the mind to submit to different 
 tones, and adapt itself to diversities of temper, usages, and 
 characters. It is said that in schools morals are not in such 
 safety as in private houses ; I think that opinion is inaccu- 
 rate ; valets and servant-women are more to be feared than 
 comrades, because they are less watched. I can cite myself 
 as an example: I kept, throughout my schools and semi- 
 naries, my morals very pure, together with great piety imtil 
 my entrance into the world. 
 
 So I was sent to the Barnabite school when I was ten 
 years old. I was always first in my class, and I must say, 
 more to my shame than my praise, that I employed, in order 
 to succeed, a method that I have since made use of in more 
 important ways. This method gratified and fed a certain 
 stratum of laziness, self-love, and rivalry, all of which are 
 
94 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OE [chap. i. 
 
 in my character. Every time that in my studies I foimd 
 equals, rivals, and superiors, I worked without relaxing, 
 night and day, until I managed to put them behind me; 
 then, satisfied to have the first place, I contented myself 
 by keeping it with easy work, without caring to deserve 
 a better. 
 
 I made good studies at the Barnabites ; and one day when 
 I did not know how to fill a letter I was writing to my 
 father, having no longer any hope of the Cross of Malta, 
 I bethought me of replacing it by the crozier of a bishop ; 
 so I announced my vocation for the ecclesiastical profession. 
 My father answered that I must examine it seriously; I 
 declared that I had made my reflections; then they put 
 me into retreat for a month in a Seminary, after which 
 I was tonsured, at twelve years of age. Eighteen months 
 later my father sent me to the college of the Jesuits in 
 Paris; as will presently be seen. 
 
 I said that my father had ruined his affairs. He never- 
 theless resolved to give my brother and myself a suitable 
 education, and, to obtain the means of doing so, he took the 
 course of writing to Cardinal de Fleury, with whom he had 
 been very intimate in his youth, though he had little 
 followed up the intimacy after the cardinal had become 
 minister. My father wrote with some dignity ; knowing how 
 to speak of poverty without asking alms ; his letter to the 
 cardinal produced more than he had hoped for. His Em- 
 inence replied that he had not forgotten the old friendship, 
 and remembered the misfortunes that had come upon my 
 father ; he said that my father's children were very young, 
 and he himself too old to hope to be useful to them ; but 
 that as I was entering the ecclesiastical profession, I must 
 be sent to finish my studies at the Jesuit college in Paris, 
 and thence to the seminary of Saint-Sulpice ; after which, 
 
1715-1735] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 95 
 
 when I reached the age of eighteen, he would ask the king 
 to give me an abbey, and by means of that favour I could 
 help my family. In consequence of this answer my father 
 determined to send my brother to the pages of the king to 
 do his exercises, and me to the college of Louis-le-Grrand. 
 I owe my fortune to this determination. Had I remained 
 in the provinces, I should have grown old as grand-vicar of 
 Viviers, brilliant in the diocese and unknown to the rest of 
 the world. 
 
 My father, on the day of my departure, having embraced 
 me without any outward sign of tenderness, said to me these 
 words, which engraved themselves on my soul as he uttered 
 them : " My son, you are going into a world in which I have 
 lived much ; I shall not be useless to you there. I would 
 gladly have taken you there myself, but I am now too old. 
 Eemember that in that world you will find many equals and 
 a vast number of superiors. Make yourself beloved by the 
 first ; and never be familiar with the others ; respect them, but 
 never fawn upon them. Learn to obey, but remember that 
 you were not bom to be the valet of any man. If the fear of 
 God does not keep you from women, fear at least to lose 
 your health." In sayiag these words he kissed me agaia, 
 and then saw with a dry eye my brother and myself get iato 
 the carriage, which took us to Paris under the care of his 
 old valet. 
 
 I arrived at the Jesuit college, in August, 1729. My 
 expectation was to enter rhetoric after the holidays. The 
 inspector [of school studies], having examined my capacity, 
 thought me not fitted to enter third. My self-love was 
 wounded by this verdict ; I set myself to study with such 
 diligence, taking hours from sleep, reading and writing by 
 moonlight, that finally, at the end of two months, I was 
 allowed to be again examined for rhetoric, and was received 
 
96 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. l. 
 
 into that class without diflficulty. It is true that I was not 
 at first in the front rank, but at the end of three months of 
 industry I reached the highest places, and then according to 
 my usual custom, I went to sleep upon my laurels as soon as 
 1 felt I had no rivals to fear ; only waking up now and then 
 when my comrades, by dint of hard work, threatened to 
 take my place. Vanity won me another success ; I arrived 
 in Paris with a Languedocian accent; the jests of my 
 comrades made me lose it in three months. These examples 
 and many others prove that if self-love is the root of aU 
 vices, it is also the spur to many virtues. 
 
 I did my rhetoric under the two most famous professors 
 who had appeared for a long time : Pfere Por^e and Pfere la 
 Sante. The first was one of the most worthy men I have 
 ever known ; the pupils loved him as a father, and respected 
 him as their master ; he knew the classics, he made us feel 
 better than any one all their beauties ; yet modem taste 
 drew him to its works, though it never ruled in his lessons. 
 He loved the stage passionately, and was himself an excel- 
 lent actor ; his soul, which was seen in all his gestures, made 
 the art of declamation disappear. To his many talents he 
 added virtues that were simple and sincere. He was a saint, 
 very severe for himself, very indulgent for others. His 
 colleague, Pfere la Sante, had much imagination, a fuller and 
 more flowery style than that of Pfere Por^e; gay, even a 
 trifle jocose, he was fond of Ions mots, and made himself 
 liked, but not enough feared. At the end of my rhetoric 
 year, this good father proposed to me to enter the Society of 
 the Jesuits. I consulted Pfere Por^e in confidence ; he dis- 
 suaded me, saying : " My child, that does not suit you ; you 
 will some day be a pillar and light in the Church." God 
 grant that that opinion may some day be justified. 
 
 Another very celebrated Jesuit had also a very high 
 
1715-1735] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 97 
 
 opinion of me, namely : Pfere Toumemine, man of rank and 
 tie ugliest of his epoch. This Jesuit had superficial, but rather 
 extensive knowledge; which ranked him for some time 
 among learned men ; his imagination was lively and singu- 
 lar; his zeal led him by preference to the conversion of 
 unbelievers; his room was always full of sceptics, deists, 
 and materialists; he never converted any of them, but he 
 had the pleasure of discussing, arguing, and spending a part 
 of his life with men of intellect. 
 
 My life in college was most edifying ; my childhood had 
 been serious; my reputation for goodness was such that 
 they confided to me the care of young men who were not 
 permitted to leave college or even take a walk ia the streets 
 on holidays. This commission often gave me much pain 
 and uneasiuess, but I fulfilled it with the approbation of 
 my superiors, and without losing the friendship of my 
 comrades. 
 
 Before quitting this subject I must relate a rather singular 
 fact. We were studying, under Pfere Porde, the second book 
 of Homer's Iliad ; that second book, printed separately, was 
 the only copy of the poet which we had. Pfere Por^e, in 
 making us compose Greek verses, gave us, as a theme, in 
 Latin prose, a passage taken from the fourth book of the 
 Iliad. I dreamed at night of the Greek verses I had to 
 make ; I thought I had done them, and kept repeating in my 
 memory the verses I had just composed. I wrote down, 
 on waking, the four first verses of my composition, having 
 entirely forgotten the others. My composition finished, I 
 gave it to Pfere Por^e, who was much astonished to find that 
 the four first verses were entirely from Homer. He thought 
 at first that I had copied them, but he was fuUy convinced 
 that I had no knowledge of the fourth book of the Iliad. 
 Cardinal de Polignac,who had no aversion to the marvellous, 
 
 yoL. I. — 7 
 
98 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 
 
 told me that the same thing had happened to him, and in a 
 still more surprising manner. Philosophers have not ex- 
 amined with sufficient seriousness the functions of the soul 
 during sleep. 
 
 I finished my rhetoric with a brilliant stroke : I declaimed 
 in the grand refectory, in presence of the most learned 
 Jesuits, a Latin essay in which I tried to prove that elo- 
 quence was above philosophy. The speech had great suc- 
 cess, and caused a sort of schism between the rhetoricians 
 and the philosophers. They answered my discourse. I 
 asked to reply ; but the director, fearing a ferment from the 
 argument, condemned me to silence. This quarrel ended 
 in fisticuffs given and received ; the philosophers were the 
 strongest, but not the most numerous. I left coUege after 
 this fine exploit, with a lively gratitude in my heart for the 
 education I had received from the Jesuits. This feeling 
 has never been effaced. I shall have occasion hereafter to 
 say what I think of that Company, which to-day is making 
 so much noise in Europe. 
 
 I shall finish this subject with a few reflections. Why 
 employ ten whole years in teaching, very imperfectly, the 
 Latin language to children ? At a more advanced age they 
 would know more Latin at the end of six months than they 
 learn at school after many years. Why should children 
 who are not in the same condition of life, nor destined to 
 the same employments be subjected to the same education ? 
 Would it not be better to teach arithmetic to the son of a 
 merchant rather than show him how to make Greek and 
 Latin verses ? I should like to see each one brought up 
 according to his position and in relation to the employments 
 he must one day fulfil in society. I see only three points 
 of education which ought to be common to all men : religion, 
 by which alone they can be saved; the study of laws, by 
 
1715-1735] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 99 
 
 which to defend their own well-being and that of others; 
 and lastly, mediciae, through which they may hope to pre- 
 serve their health. Such are, it seems to me, the most 
 essential objects of education, but they are often the most 
 ignored. 
 
 I value the study of ancient languages ; they give the 
 key to all the treasures of antiquity; but that study is 
 not as useful to all men as would be the study of living 
 languages. Every calling, every profession seems to me to 
 require its appropriate system of education, special and 
 relative. 
 
 In 1731 I entered the Seminary of Saint-Sulpice to study 
 philosophy and theology. The seminary of Saint-Sulpice 
 and the college of Louis-le-Grand were considered, at the 
 time of which I speak, as the two most celebrated schools ; 
 the highest noblesse were educated there. That is a great 
 advantage. It resulted, for me, in being connected with 
 all that was greatest in the kingdom ; such ties of youth are 
 never forgotten and are easily renewed. We love to recall 
 our early years ; and perhaps, too, we love always what we 
 loved first in the age of candour and sincerity. 
 
 I found at Saint-Sulpice a tone and manners wholly 
 different from those of the Jesuits ; the latter company of 
 priests, dependent on a general-superior, affect the greatest 
 simplicity and a tone of charity which is not always accom- 
 panied by much openness of heart. My nature, at all times 
 decided, has never been inflexible; I have known how to 
 adapt myself to all usages and all tones, while preserving 
 my own way of thinking, which has never been the common 
 way. I was liked at the seminary, as I had been at school, 
 for my frankness, truthfulness, and gaiety. 
 
 My morals had always been pure and my conduct regular, 
 but after a retreat which I made at the semiaary I was 
 
100 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 
 
 seized by an extraordinary sense of devotion, ■wMch. increased 
 day by day for a year. This fervour, I must allow, owed 
 a portion of its heat to that of my age and the vivacity of 
 my passions ; my devotion was very ambitious ; it disdained 
 all ordinary practices to fasten on whatever was most sub- 
 lime and most austere in the lives of the saints. My long 
 night-watches, my prayers, my fastings, the perpetual struggle 
 of my mind heated my blood in a maimer very dangerous 
 for my health. I came near falling into the pious delirium 
 of certain mystics; I touched very closely upon ecstasies 
 and visions ; I felt about the region of my heart when in 
 prayer a heat that was almost unbearable. I took this 
 inward fire for that of divine love ; I hoped that some day 
 I might die consumed by it, and that my heart would be 
 found reduced to ashes. The vivacity of my imagination, 
 the emptiness of my heart, which needed to love, had much 
 to do with these pious excesses. My austerities were very 
 great. I do not advise the practice to young men. Flagel- 
 lation, of which much use is made in the communities, 
 seems to me a practice both indecent and equivocal. It is 
 at least doubtful if that austerity is more fitted to repress 
 than to arouse the passions. 
 
 I was in the third heaven when a word, a single speech of 
 my director, who was a man of intelligence, flung me from 
 . this high sphere and caused me to follow a system of devotion 
 more simple and more reasonable. He had advised me to 
 write down my resolutions and give him the paper to exam- 
 ine. My fruitful examination, instead of filling a few sheets, 
 brought forth a volume. M. de la Fosse (that was the name 
 of my director) kept the manuscript two weeks, and when, 
 at the end of that time, I went to fetch it and hear his 
 opinion, he coldly gave me back my folio, saying : " There are 
 four faults in French on the first page." Those words chilled 
 
1715-1735] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 101 
 
 me to excess ; which proves that we should be careful what 
 we say to young men gifted with eager miads, able to gather 
 ideas rapidly and make comparisons. 
 
 I was at Saint-Sulpice, as I had been at school, an example 
 of punctual obedience to rules. I also distinguished myself 
 in my studies of philosophy and theology ; it was I who 
 kept the class in the absence or illness of the master. This 
 species of superiority was not acquired by hard work ; a ready 
 perception took the place of industry. At first I worked well 
 to equal or surpass my comrades ; but I stopped as soon as I 
 had done so. I had, therefore, many hours to fill, and I 
 employed them in studying belles-lettres. This study soon 
 acquired me the reputation of a wit, and that reputation was 
 very fatal to me ; it turned against me the old directors of the 
 seminary, to whom the study of literature seemed too worldly. 
 The frankness with which I expressed myself on the limited 
 education of Saint-Sulpice, and on the too minute practices 
 which were there in usage, made them tax me with an in- 
 dependent and dangerous spirit. 
 
 Pfere Couturier, the Superior, had too much intelligence, 
 and was too well versed in the ways of the world and of men, 
 to judge me so severely ; but as it was he who presided over 
 the choice of bishops, through the confidence Cardinal de 
 Fleury placed in his discernment, he may have thought that 
 if I were put into the Church I should have less docility 
 than men of narrower minds less cultivated. The cardinal 
 was old ; the Abb6 Couturier wanted to keep his credit and 
 his influence with him. He always gave the abbeys and 
 bishoprics to persons who were irreproachable as to morals. 
 So far aU was well ; but in choosing mediocre minds to fiU the 
 chief places in the Church, he did bad service to the episco- 
 pate, and did not fulfil his object; for fools are, to say the 
 least, as ungrateful as men of intelligence ; and they are not 
 
102 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 
 
 more docile, because obstinacy and pride usually prefer to 
 put themselves in narrow minds. 
 
 However that may be, the Abb^ Couturier, while showing 
 me every mark of esteem and friendliness, allowed me to be 
 iujured iu the cardiual's miud. He knew that persons had 
 done me ill-turns, and he seemed to fear them. He advised 
 me, in order to avert the storm, to make a journey to my 
 family, promising to receive me in the seminary on my return. 
 I felt the snare, but I was powerless to avoid it. Nevertheless, 
 I took precautions so prudent and adroit that I still wonder 
 how at that early age my mind was so mature and reflective. 
 I yielded, therefore, of necessity, to the advice of the Abbd 
 Couturier, who wrote the most beautiful letters to my father 
 and bishop. I bound him also by certain authentic words in 
 my favour which I made him say to persons of importance 
 in the city and at Court ; and having taken these precautions, 
 I prepared for my journey to Languedoc, which was to last, 
 and did in fact last, only three months. 
 
 A few reflections here present themselves which I must 
 not forget. The Seminary of Saint-Sulpice has been, is, and 
 will be for a long time, the nursery of bishops ; but the edu- 
 cation formerly given there was suitable at most to form vicars 
 and rectors. The love and practice of small things are in 
 great credit there ; but a species of horror for great ones is 
 inspired. The superiors accustom young men to dissimula- 
 tion by that which they use towards them. If you have 
 committed a iavlt you are warned of it in equivocal words, to 
 which the heedlessness of youth pays little attention ; but 
 they pimish so severely the slightest wrong-doing that it may 
 be said there is no proportion between the punishment and 
 fault. A chicken eaten secretly is a cause for expulsion. 
 But what is worse is that when dismissed from the seminary 
 you are certain of having the Sulpicians for enemies. They 
 
1715-1735] CARDINAL DB BERNIS. 103 
 
 think to justify their prejudice by perpetually doing you Ul- 
 services. How is it possible they can imagine it wise to be 
 political with youth, or that any good can arise from the art 
 of narrowing the mind and compressing the heart ? I have 
 always observed that false natures succeed better in their 
 houses than open and siacere hearts. 
 
 ■ It must be said, however, to the praise of seminaries, that 
 they bring up young priests to great purity of morals ; and I 
 hear it said that the Abb^ Couturier has now put a stop to 
 much pettiness and mummery. But to make the seminary a 
 true nursery for grand-vicars and bishops, there must reign a 
 higher tone, more frankness, and a truer spirit of government ; 
 eloquence should be cultivated, a talent so necessary to bishops 
 and men in of&ce ; above all, instead of pupils passing ten 
 years in the subtile but sterile study of scholasticism, they 
 should become more learned in the knowledge of Holy 
 Scripture, the canons, and ecclesiastical history. The doctrine 
 taught at Saint-Sulpice is fairly correct ; it takes a middle 
 course between the school of the Jesuits and that of Saint- 
 Thomas. It is a pity that Jansenism has rendered the semi- 
 nary of Saint-Magloire suspected, for the education there is 
 much higher than that at Saint-Sulpice, and it was a good 
 school to form proper subjects for the episcopate. 
 
 I had hardly left the seminary before the temptation to go 
 to the theatre assailed me, and I succumbed to it. The 
 Com^die Fran^aise affected my heart, the Opera seduced my 
 senses. From that moment there was kindled within me so 
 ardent a passion for the stage that the greatest sacrifice I 
 have made in my life has been to renounce it. This frequent- 
 ing of theatres produced in me a species of revolution of 
 ideas and feelings, from which I conclude that it is dangerous 
 for young men. I even think that the Opera ought not to be 
 permitted at any age. 
 
104 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 
 
 I arrived in Languedoc in the month of December, 1734, 
 and found a mission established in my father's house, which 
 sustained for a time the already totterrag edifice of my 
 devotion. Intercourse with women was begianing to seem 
 to me agreeable ; my vanity was flattered by the praises they 
 gave to my intelligence and my face. But the reflection 
 that I was to return to Saint-Sulpice put a bridle on my 
 heart, aU ready to escape me. I passed three months ia the 
 battle of innocence with passions. 
 
 One night when my imagination, more heated than usual, 
 kept me awake, I went out to walk on a terrace which over- 
 looked a vegetable garden. The moonlight was very beau- 
 tiful, and the night was still. The light of the moon which 
 played among the trees seemed to form a thousand varied 
 figures. I thought to myself that here was the origin of many 
 of the so-called apparitions. My imagination, recalling to me 
 the stories of my childhood, began to glow ; I cast my eyes 
 into the garden and thought I saw distinctly a figure, very 
 pale, of natural height, leaning against a tree, the hands 
 crossed on its breast, and the whole form covered from head 
 to foot with a white veil. Fear seized me, in spite of the 
 reasoning I made to prevent it. In vain I told myself that 
 if it was a spirit it would not be visible ; that if it was a 
 body I had nothing ^to fear, because of the distance at which 
 we were from each other ; strong and vigorous as I was, all 
 these reasons did not prevent me from being bathed in sweat, 
 or my hair from standing on end. I forced myself, however, 
 to examine the figure attentively ; the more I looked at it, 
 the more distinct the details became ; it even became taller 
 to the eye, which I attributed, justly, to the excited state of 
 my imagination. I asked the phantom several times in a 
 loud voice what it was, and what it was doing there. Its 
 silence was obstinate and alarming. My knees trembled 
 
1715-1735] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 105 
 
 under me, but I resolved to know the truth or perish. I 
 went back to my room for a gun, feeling that the phantom 
 was behind me. I returned to the terrace with my weapon ; 
 which gave me confidence, for I found the figure smaller 
 and standing at the same place where it was when I began 
 to be afraid. I called to it agaia several times and threatened 
 to fire upon it. No answer. Then, leaning the muzzle of 
 my gun on the balustrade, because my hand trembled, I 
 aimed carefuUy at the phantom and fired my shot, which 
 struck full upon the tree against which the spectre leaned. 
 Its position did not change. Then, seized by a sort of fury 
 mingled with fear, and resolved to push the adventure to an 
 end, I crossed the whole chSteau in the darkness, ran down 
 into the garden, saw the apparent spirit, and marched at it 
 with my hair on end and all my muscles strained. I was only 
 four steps from it when I saw it very distinctly ; I sprang 
 upon it and clasped, very closely between my arms, — the 
 tree. From that moment the illusion dispersed, and I saw 
 no more of the phantom. My senses calmed themselves, 
 and I searched tranquilly for the cause of my error. I saw 
 that the tree was peeled of its bark and rotten at the core ; 
 that the moonlight striking into it caused the whiteness to 
 which my imagiuation had added all the rest. There was 
 iu this adventure as much courage as cowardice. If I had 
 not fathomed it I should all my life have believed in the 
 silly tales of nurses. 
 
 On my return to Paris in 1735, the Abbd Couturier re- 
 ceived me with open arms, but he told me that I could not 
 have a room in the seminary for a week. He put me off in 
 this way, from week to week, for three months. This con- 
 duct did not surprise me, I had foreseen it ; but it afflicted 
 my family. My father's friends in Paris, who did not sus- 
 pect the sincerity of the Sulpicians, thought it was I who 
 
106 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 
 
 had a repugnance to shut myself up in the seminary. The 
 matter had to be cleared up. The Abb4 Couturier assured 
 me that I was master of re-entering Saint-Sulpice, that he 
 had given his word for it, but that all the other superiors 
 were prejudiced against me ; therefore my stay at the sem- 
 inary would be more injurious to me than useful. I yielded 
 to necessity, and begged the Abb^ Couturier to write to my 
 family and get them to adopt the plan which he advised. 
 This was to enter the college of Bourgogne with several of 
 my comrades of the seminary ; the Archbishop of Lyon, 
 Montazet, was one of them. This plan was followed, but I 
 had experienced for six months such treachery, such false- 
 ness, that I took a horror of what in society is commonly 
 called mitraille. 
 
 Meanwhile my fate became clearer at Court. Cardinal 
 de Fleury declared to the Mar&hal de la Fare, who com- 
 manded in Languedoc at that time, that he had been on the 
 point of giving me a considerable abbey, but that now, so 
 long as he lived, I should have nothing ; so that luckily for 
 me, I was young and he was old. He spoke with the same 
 harshness to the Bishop of Viviers (VUleneuve). These 
 gentlemen sent these curt, decisive answers without any 
 explanation to my father. He was grieved to the heart. 
 He wrote to me with indignation, and left me without 
 support for two years. My relations and friends lq Paris 
 shut their doors and turned their backs to me. Imagine the 
 situation of a young man of niaeteen, without means, with- 
 out advice, left to himself in a city like Paris. No one 
 endures disgrace at that age. If I had had vices they would 
 have been developed under such critical circumstances. I 
 armed myself with courage ; I was able to choose a course, 
 and to profit by the lesson of adversity, which is a good 
 teacher. 
 
1715-1735] CAEDINAL DE BERNIS. 107 
 
 My misfortune lasted long ; the cardinal did not die till 
 1743, but my fate did not change till 1751. Eeduced to 
 the resources of my own soul, I made my plan ; and this 
 plan was an honourable one : I vowed myself to the most 
 scrupulous integrity, to patience, and to courage. I looked 
 to Letters as a resource and as an amusement ; I renoimced 
 the studies at the Sorbonne, my means not allowirig me to 
 follow them. 
 
 I sought for friends iu the great world, and I found them ; 
 the reputation for intelligence which I had already acquired 
 opened the door to me. A rather brilliant imagiaation, 
 a sustained gaiety, the look and the charm of health, a noble 
 way of thinking, a loftiness of soul without assumption, an 
 independence which had the air only of liberty, productions 
 that were merely easy and agreeable, but, above all, discretion, 
 secrecy, and a spirit of conciliation and gentleness, were the 
 qualities which admitted me into good society, and soon 
 made me sought there. 
 
 From that moment, I put a fixed intention iato my whole 
 conduct. I made a methodical system of the life I would 
 lead, frivolous as it seems to be, and I foresaw that the plan 
 would be very useful to me. I resolved to study men of 
 all classes and all orders, and to instruct myself in knowl- 
 edge of the human heart while amusing myself. I compre- 
 hended that this study of the world would render me capable 
 of great employments should circumstances call me to them ; 
 but at any rate I could hardly, living in good company and 
 making myself considered there, fail to find a way to 
 obtain some benefices on which I could live with decency. 
 
 As soon as I ceased to lead the ecclesiastical life I re- 
 nounced the idea of taking the vows of that profession. 
 The honour and constancy with which I held to this inten- 
 tion very nearly ruined me imder the ministry of the Bishop 
 
108 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 
 
 of Mirepoix. One need not be surprised if fortune was long 
 in smUing upon me, and if she made me feel her rigour and 
 her caprices; I often sacrificed her to friendship and to 
 honour, but I never sacrificed anything to her. Neverthe- 
 less, my existence never caused me anxiety. Many wit- 
 nesses stUl living, who were sometimes alarmed about my 
 future, can certify that I was convinced I should be a man 
 of importance by the time I was forty. The principal 
 quality of my mind has been to see clear and see far. 
 
 My misfortune had some relief. I bore it with gaiety and 
 courage on entering society ; it made me interesting. More- 
 over, without violating the rules of prudence or neglecting 
 decorum and respect, I did not restrain myself in speaking 
 of Cardinal de Fleury. He was not without enemies; all 
 prime-ministers have them. Such men sought me ; and I 
 was admitted very early into the intrigues of that day. 
 I was secret, though frank ; that quality made them forget 
 my youth. I thus learned very early to know the Court, 
 and as reflection has always been the distinctive attribute 
 of my mind, I made great profit of the many anecdotes 
 that were confided to me. 
 
 At twenty years of age I was admitted into the society 
 of the Torcys, the Polignacs, the d'Aguesseaus, the Boling- 
 brokes. At the same time I was dining with Fontenelle, 
 Montesquieu, Mairan, Maupertuis, Cr^bQlon. My talk was 
 not foreign to that of men so different. Beading furnished 
 me with enough to pay my contingent in many ways ; the 
 ideas of others germinated readily in my head and gave birth 
 to more. No one ever seized more quickly the peculiarities 
 of each man and each social circle. It cost me nothing to 
 take the tone of others, without, however, losing my own. 
 This facility of manners and mind made me acceptable in 
 society ; I became what they call in the world a coqueluche 
 
1715-1735] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 109 
 
 [reigning fancy]. People had to take time by the forelock 
 to get me to supper. I was the fashion, without these 
 successes giAong me inward vanity or an air of self-conceit. 
 
 Women did not spoil me more than men did. I foimd 
 among them much cordiality and very favourable prepos- 
 sessions. Here would be the place for the history of my 
 errors, but the picture would be perhaps more dangerous 
 than useful. I ought to warn those who wiU read these 
 Memoirs of the danger of giving way to the sensibility of 
 their hearts. Happy they who have never felt the action 
 of the soul upon the senses and the senses upon the souL 
 It is very difficult to be young and to be virtuous. AH that 
 I can say is that in my youth I had many reproaches to 
 make to myself as a Christian, but none as a man of honour. 
 I have always fled bad company and had a horror of de- 
 bauchery. 
 
 Society saw me poor and gay imder misfortune, seeking 
 friends and disdaining patrons, without fortune but taking 
 no means to obtain it. They thought me the happiest man 
 in the world, and attributed to temperament what was due 
 to courage. I was born sensitive to excess. My situation 
 humiliated me ; I tasted all the bitterness of it, but I knew 
 well that a sad face does not interest long and soon wearies 
 others. I had, therefore, the strength to keep my griefs to 
 myself, and to let nothing show to the eyes of others but 
 my imagination and gaiety. 
 
 In 1733 Gresset's first works appeared : " Vert- Vert," and 
 especially " La Chartreuse," had the greatest success. I felt 
 more than others the merit of those works, but I did not 
 give way to an enthusiasm that seemed to me excessive. 
 People said to me, " Do better." I answered that as good 
 might be done in the same style ; and I wrote as he did, 
 joking at myself, the "Epistle on Laziness," of which many 
 
110 MEMOIBS AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 
 
 copies were handed about ; it was even printed without my 
 taking part in the matter. It was believed to be by Gresset. 
 I heard people of taste, who did not know I was the author, 
 say that the " Epistle " was in the best style, and resembled 
 the good works of the " Temple." This first success gave 
 me the idea in 1736 of the " Epistle to my Penates," which 
 was at first attributed to Gresset and had great vogue. 
 This Epistle was also printed without my knowledge, and 
 in a furtive manner. The veil which covered me was now 
 torn aside and my name went from lip to lip ; it even ceased 
 to be unknown in foreign countries ; so true is it that a few 
 happy verses give celebrity more rapidly than a purely useful 
 work. 
 
 It was thus that the talent I had for poesy from my cradle 
 awoke in me once more and made me known to the public. I 
 knew that the king did not like poems, and that poets have 
 always been rather generally regarded as frivolous and 
 dangerous persons. But I was unhappy,' I needed distrac- 
 tions ; besides which, I lived in an age when wit was much 
 enjoyed ; so I chose the most agreeable course. It cost me 
 little pains to succeed ; to me it was a play, not a labour. 
 At the bottom of my heart I thought but little of my pro- 
 ductions ; but I knew they were rapidly establishing the 
 reputation of my intellect ; that this reputation would be 
 useful to me; that by abandoning poetry later I should 
 escape the inconveniences attached to it, while the celebrity 
 would remain to me. I was not mistaken in my opinion. 
 
 The Bishop of Lugon (Bussy-Eabutin), who had been the 
 friend of my father and mother, and was called in society 
 the " God of good company," sought me out and took a 
 friendship for me. He wanted to reconcile me with Saint- 
 Sulpioe. I gave him full powers ; but with all his clever- 
 ness he failed in his negotiation, just as I had predicted to 
 
1715-1735] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. HI 
 
 him. Convinced that I could ohtain nothing from Cardinal 
 de Fleury, he brought me back, nevertheless, into my father's 
 good graces ; he obtained from the Archbishop of Paris 
 (Vintimille) the promise of a canonry in Notre-Dame. 
 The day that we were to go together to Conflans, to con- 
 summate this affair, he died of an indigestion. Accidents 
 of the same kind have often deprived me of establishments 
 which seemed quite certain. 
 
 I owe my fortime to the Bishop of Lu§on, through a 
 remark of his which made the deepest impression on 
 my mind. " So long as you are young," he said, " you can 
 easily bear the situation in which you are. You are agree- 
 able, you will be sought ; pleasure and self-love will stand 
 you in place of all else ; but remember that there is nothing 
 in Paris so melancholy, or more humiliating than the state 
 of an old abb^ who has no means." That exhortation 
 never left my head ; it roused me often from my indolence, 
 and it did much, about my thirty-fifth year towards making 
 me choose a course. 
 
 Something essential would be lacking to the history of 
 my youth if I neglected to describe the manners, morals, and 
 spirit of the times in which I lived. Neither will those who 
 come after me be sorry to find here the portraits of some of 
 the principal personages who figured on the stage of the 
 world and with whom I have been, from the time of my 
 entrance into society, on terms of some intimacy. 
 
112 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 II. 
 
 1735-1744. — Manners and Morals of the Age. — Cardinal de Eleury. — 
 Cardinal de Polignac. — My Journey to Auvergne and Languedoc in 
 1739. — Return to Paris in 1741. —The Bishop of Mirepoix. — My 
 Entrance to the French Academy in 1744. — Men of Letters. — Women. 
 — The Great Seigneurs. 
 
 The Court and capital decide the national manners and 
 morals, as they do the fashions. I shall therefore speak here 
 of none but those which reigned in my day at Paris and at 
 Versailles. 
 
 Madame de Maintenon had made the Court of Louis XIV. 
 very devout, or, to speak more truly, very hypocritical ; but 
 the Eegency raised the mask that hid the vices. The Due 
 d'Orldans, to whom were attributed great crimes, did not 
 believe in integrity, though a man of honour himself. Al- 
 though so enlightened a prince, he did not sufficiently feel 
 how important it was, even politically, to respect and cause 
 to be respected religion. The king had one day signed the 
 orders for the benefices of which the Eegent had the bestowal. 
 The latter, as he took his chocolate, announced the news to 
 those about him saying : " The Jansenists will be satisfied 
 with me this time, for I have given everything to grace [fa- 
 vour], and nothing to merit." M. Massillon, Bishop of Cler- 
 mont, told me that, complaining one day to the Eegent of the 
 rascalities of a man whom the prince had sent him in order 
 that they might work together on the affairs of the clergy, 
 the Eegent interrupted the recital of the man's knavery by 
 sayiQg to Cardinal Dubois, who was present, " Abb^, we must 
 
1735-1744] CAEDINAL DB BEENIS. 113 
 
 allow he is a great rascal." M. Massillon thought to himself, 
 " Good ! there 's one unmasked and ruiued : " but the Eegent 
 added, " Yes, a scoundrel of the first order, but very adroit — 
 Abb^ " (to Cardinal Dubois), " we must make an ambassador 
 of him." That was all the satisfaction he gave to the com- 
 plaints laid before him ; and I could add a hundred other 
 instances as striking. 
 
 An those who thought daringly of religion had a claim to 
 please the Eegent. He allowed a new edition of the " Dic- 
 tionnaire de Bayle '' to be dedicated to him, — a work by which 
 persons became learned very cheaply. Scandalous anecdotes 
 were heard everywhere and scepticism was presented in its 
 strongest light. Even women began to free themselves from 
 prejudices. The spirit of unbelief and free-thiaking was 
 abroad in the world. The irreligion of the Eegent and his 
 debauches found ready imitators in a nation whose natural 
 character it is to imitate servilely the virtues and vices of its 
 masters : corruption became almost general ; people boasted 
 of materialism, deism, pyrrhonism ; faith was relegated to 
 the common people, the bourgeoisie, and the religious com- 
 munities; it was no longer good taste to believe in the 
 Gospel. 
 
 The Eegent did not do less harm to honour, the national 
 and distinctive virtue of Frenchmen, than he did to religion. 
 It was not that the Due d'Orl^ans was not personally fuU 
 of honour and integrity ; but he was so convinced that all 
 men were scoundrels that he treated equally those who were 
 honourable and those who were not ; he even gave marked 
 preferences to the latter, and he did so great an outrage to 
 virtue and honour by making Cardinal Dubois prime-minister 
 that it is not to be wondered at if Honour, that sentiment 
 which President Montesquieu regards as the most powerful 
 mainspring of monarchies, was weakened under the Eegency. 
 
 VOL. I. — 8 
 
114 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 Women, who have always had the ambition to govern, 
 hoped to lay hold of the reins of empire imder a priQce who 
 could not do without mistresses, and who had reasons to 
 change them often. But they never had with him any other 
 influence than that of enriching themselves at the cost of 
 the State, and of sometimes appointing to offices men who 
 were incapable of tilling them. It may be said that dissolu- 
 tion reached its height during the Eegency. The women 
 grew accustomed to unbelief, indecency, love of money, and 
 the notion of governing men in power ; nothing was lacking 
 to complete the work of corruption but to push luxury to 
 extremes. 
 
 The system of Law, which could have liberated the country 
 from debt had the bank-notes been kept to a reasonable rela- 
 tion to coin, completed the moral ruin through the extrava- 
 gant fortunes it occasioned. Millions were spent on debauch- 
 ery and high living with the same ease with which they were 
 acquired. People became accustomed to " marriages for 
 money," a consecrated term of the present day, to the shame 
 of the nobility ; for a financial wife can only bring into a 
 home the sentiments which make wealth preferable to all. 
 A warrior nation is very near to bastardy when this way of 
 thinking becomes that of its leaders. 
 
 The Due d'Orleans had much intelligence ; he loved and cul- 
 tivated both science and the arts with success ; he made them 
 the fashion, and that fashion still reigned with fury in my 
 early days. I did not find on entering the world the impiety, 
 debauchery, and corruption of morals on or near the throne 
 as they were during the Eegency. The weak and troubled 
 ministry of M. le Due had, to be sure, changed nothing, but 
 that of Cardinal de Fleury brought within narrower limits 
 the outward corruption of morals ; the same vices existed, 
 perhaps, but with less brilliancy and protection. It is natu- 
 
1735-1744] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 115 
 
 ral, therefore, that I should here place some features of the 
 life and character of that minister. 
 
 Cardinal de Fleury governed France with all the power of 
 a prime-minister and all the simplicity of a modest favourite. 
 His influence during a long period of years never had any 
 diminution ; but he lived too long for his fame, and died just 
 in time not to survive his credit. 
 
 He was born at Lodfeve ; his father was a receiver-general 
 and a councQler of State ; one of his sisters married a gentle- 
 man of Languedoc, from whom are descended the Dues de 
 Fleury. The cardinal's father gave him an excellent educa- 
 tion, and sent him to make his studies in Paris. The Abb^ 
 de Fleury allied himself early with people of rank ; his 
 person was agreeable, he had wit, and narrated marvellously 
 well, — a quality that was quite common under Louis XIV., 
 but is to-day no longer the fashion ; he wrote and spoke ex- 
 cellently. I will mention here in passing that the cardinal 
 had a damask bed at school which was magnificent ; but what 
 was very modest and perhaps a little affected was that the 
 all-powerful minister used that bed throughout his life, and 
 died in it. 
 
 As soon as he had taken his licentiate's degree he wished 
 to buy an office of chaplain to Madame la Dauphine. I re- 
 member a story as to this which he told himself, and it is 
 rather singular that he dared to do so. He related how his 
 family consigned him to a Vhve of the Oratoire, whose name 
 I forget ; this personage had much intelligence, knowledge of 
 the world, and severity. " I don't know why," said the 
 cardinal, " but this good P^re suspected me of being ambi- 
 tious ; he was always preaching to me on that point, and 
 forbade me especially to go to Court, on pain of eternal 
 damnation." It became necessary, however, that he should 
 tell his mentor in confidence about the office of chaplain ; 
 
116 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OE [chap. ii. 
 
 the confidence was ill-taken ; he was scolded, and received 
 the cold shoulder ; but the thing being done it was necessary 
 to appease his director. "Well," said the reverend Pfere, 
 " you have got the mania for going to Court ; I will now give 
 you a piece of advice by which to conduct yourself wisely 
 and safely : stupefy your miad and ossify your heart." The 
 Abbd de Fleury became gallant and intriguing at the Court 
 of Louis XIV. The kiag, who was beginning to turn to piety, 
 had always detested the gallantry and intrigue of priests ; 
 the Abb4 de Fleury had become his chaplain ; he let him 
 grow old in that office, without ever being willing to appoint 
 him to a bishopric, in spite of the efforts of intriguers, male 
 and female, who caballed for him, and in spite of the recom- 
 mendation of his own confessor. 
 
 M. Hubert, rector of Versailles, was then in great considera- 
 tion at Court ; he was the confessor of Cardinal de NoaLlles, 
 who at that time enjoyed the whole esteem and, I may say, 
 the entire friendship of the king. The Abb4 de Fleury took 
 the course of confessing to M. Hubert, and for two years he 
 was so well able to show his director the noble sides of his 
 soul that the virtuous priest became convinced that Louis 
 XIV. was doing injustice to his character in not confiding 
 to him the care of a diocese. He spoke of it to Cardinal de 
 Noailles, whose candid soul was easily persuaded in favour 
 of the Abb^ de Fleury. Matters being thus, the king's con- 
 fessor made another attempt. Louis XIV. said to him, " You 
 are the dupe of a hypocrite." " Sire," replied Pfere Tellier, 
 " twO' men more enlightened than I am, and in whom your 
 Majesty places a just confidence, think as I do." "Who 
 are they ? " asked the king. " The Cardinal de NoaQles and 
 M. Hubert," replied Tellier. " I will question them," said the 
 king, much surprised at what he heard. The information 
 was favourable to the Abb^ de Fleury ; the king yielded, in 
 
1735-1744] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 117 
 
 spite of himself, to such respectable testimony, and the Abb^ 
 de Fleury was appointed to the bishopric of Pr^jus. But in 
 signing the nomination the kiag exacted from his confessor 
 that he should render an account to him of the thanks he 
 received for it. " You -will see," said the king to the Jesuit, 
 " that aU the intriguers at Versailles wUl come and teU you 
 of their joy and gratitude." He was not mistaken ; Louis 
 XIV. knew his Court weU. 
 
 The Bishop of Fr^jus left it with regret to go to his diocese. 
 Though neither liked nor esteemed by his master, he left 
 friends near him who were useful to htm and did justice, 
 with reason, to the services he rendered ia his diocese and to 
 Provence. He knew how to manage with ability and dignity 
 the interests of his province; he obtained much from the 
 Duo de Savoie, and he deserved the respect and friendship of 
 that prince. 
 
 The sorrows which tried the great soul of Louis XIV. at 
 the close of his reign are well known ; the grave engulfed 
 the heirs of the throne in succession. One child alone re- 
 mained in charge of the Duchesse de Ventadour, an old friend 
 of Fleury. The Mar^chal de VUleroy, whom the king loved 
 (in spite of lost battles), because he believed the mar^chal 
 loved him, and he knew his unalterable integrity, was made 
 governor of the yoimg dauphio. The mar^chal and Mme. de 
 Ventadour together obtained, in spite of the king's resistance, 
 the nomination of the Bishop of Fr^jus as tutor to the young 
 prince. This first step, which M. de Fr^jus owed wholly to 
 his friends, was the solid foundation of the great fortime and 
 boundless power that awaited him in his old age. 
 
 M. de Fr^jus thought only of pleasing his pupil, and of 
 causing no mistrust to the Eegent. When Mar^chal de 
 Villeroy was dismissed, he cleverly avoided the storm ; and 
 as he was one day paying his court to the Due d'Orl&ns 
 
118 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 with an air of very decent sadness, the Eegent said to him : 
 "Here you are, very much grieved; you have lost your 
 benefactor, your protector, your friend; but, after all, you 
 are master of the dice. Oh, well ! I am glad to warn you 
 that if you wander from the straight path I shall have 
 twenty-four hours ahead of you in which to throw you out 
 of the window." — " And you wiLl do right, monseigneur," 
 replied M. de Fr^jus, smiling, in the calm and gentle tone 
 that people of a Court employ, even at times when they are 
 most troubled. 
 
 I said that Cardinal de Fleury thought only of pleasing 
 his pupil; he knew well that the friendship of children 
 depends on the compliance shown to them, and especially on 
 a little indulgence for their idleness. The child he was 
 educating was king ; it was natural that the ambitious but 
 modest prelate should think of establishing a sure founda- 
 tion of confidence and predilection in the heart of his 
 master. He succeeded, perhaps beyond his hopes. We 
 should praise the cardinal for having implanted in the soul 
 of the king unchangeable principles of religion ; but we 
 must also blame him for having '^alienated from work a 
 prince bom with intelligence, memory, accuracy in dis- 
 cernment, and a great desire to do well and to render every- 
 one happy and content. The Bishop of Fr^jus inspired the 
 king, unfairly, with an immense distrust of himself, and as 
 great a distrust of others. By this means, the cardinal made 
 sure of the exclusive power of governing public affairs. 
 Great God ! that a subject should be guilty of preventing 
 the master, father, judge of a nation from learning the art of 
 governing that nation and employing himself solely in the 
 care of rendering it happy ! How repair so unjust and 
 criminal a usurpation of power? 
 
 I heard M. de Sommdry, the king's sub-governor, say that, 
 
1735-1744] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 119 
 
 wishing one day to know what took place during the lessons 
 of the tutor with his pupil, he entered the room unex- 
 pectedly on some pretext, and found the Bishop of Fr^jus 
 sitting on a stool, the king standing by him and putting his 
 tutor's gray hair into curl-papers ; that is not exactly the 
 way to instruct a child-king, but it is certainly the way to 
 find the secret of pleasing him. 
 
 The Eegent, Due d'Orl^ans, whose talents and genius 
 cannot be too highly estimated, but whose errors, on the other 
 hand, cannot be too strongly deplored, died in the arms of a 
 mistress. This was a loss. He was attached to the king, 
 no matter what envy may say; and he was more capable 
 than any other of training him in the art of government. 
 After his death the king chose M. le Due for prime-minister. 
 If integrity and good intentions could have sufficed to fiU 
 that important post, M. le Due might have hoped to succeed 
 in it ; but great talents were lacking to him, and often 
 soimd advice. 
 
 M. de Fr^jus was beside the king, playing for the public 
 the r5le of a silent personage, but in reality ruling the mind 
 of his master. M. le Due did nothing without communi- 
 cating it to M. de Fr4jus; the latter approved of all in 
 the tete-^-tgte with the prime-minister, but not so in his 
 t§te-k-tetes with the king. Paris-Duvemey, a man of great 
 talent on many lines and of a bold and lofty spirit, advised 
 M. le Due to ask the Bishop of Fr^jus for a written appro- 
 bation of each project he commrmicated to him. This pre- 
 caution might have saved the duke; it was an infallible 
 means of preventing M. de Fr^jus from doing him Ol-service 
 with the king, or of convicting htm of treachery. M. le 
 Due thought he had no need of that precaution. When any- 
 thing succeeded it was always M. de Fr^jus who had given 
 the advice ; whereas, before the public, M. le Due was laden 
 
120 MEMOmS AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 with all the failures and iniquities. This odious and danger- 
 ous r6le finally became annoying to the prime-minister ; 
 he complained to the king of M. de Fr^jus, and the latter 
 asked to be allowed to retire from Court, that he might not, 
 he said, be a stone of stumbling. The king, in spite of his 
 own wishes, consented. 
 
 The bishop did not exile himself very far ; he retired to 
 Issy, two leagues only from Versailles. The king wrote to 
 him every day. M. le Due's good-natm:e was much blamed for 
 not profiting by the occasion to send M. de Frdjus to his 
 abbey of Toumus near Chalons. The king regretted his 
 tutor; he grew sad and pensive. The Due de Mortemart, 
 first gentleman of the Bedchamber, a man of intrepid 
 courage, of a probity that was more than Eoman, but sin- 
 gular in character, noticed the king's sadness, divined the 
 cause, made the king acknowledge it, and had the boldness 
 to go to Issy and bring back M. de Fr^jus under the very 
 eyes of M. le Due. From that moment every one expected 
 the dismissal of the latter ; he alone would not perceive it ; 
 it is true that the king, although so young, could dissimu- 
 late like an old man. Louis XIV. at nearly the same age 
 employed the same art with Fouquet. I wish it were not 
 made so great a merit in princes to know how to play a 
 farce with subjects. M. le Due was arrested one day as he 
 came out from working with the king, and taken to Chantilly. 
 On which, M. de Fr^jus, who was soon after fmade cardinal, 
 had all the power of a prime-minister, without taking either 
 the title or the show of one. 
 
 M. le Due had made the marriage of the queen [Marie 
 Leczinska] ; it was qmte natural, therefore, that she should 
 feel gratitude for so great a service. This feeling displeased 
 the cardinal; he did not like the queen, and was even 
 accused of doing her ill-turns with the king ; but he took 
 
1735-1744] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 121 
 
 great pains to deceive her by an air of confidence, and some- 
 times even of gallantry. Persons of the royal household 
 have declared that this old Eminence set a trap for the 
 queen vsrhich can never be imagined or explained ; but the 
 queen, well advised by her father, the King of Poland, had 
 the prudence not to complain of it. 
 
 No ministry was ever longer, more absolute, or less stormy 
 than that of Cardinal de Fleury. He possessed the heart 
 of his master exclusively; he had, besides, one great ad- 
 vantage id disconcerting intrigues : not only had he great 
 experience in that art, but he had seen the birth of all the 
 courtiers, he knew their ties and intimacies from childhood 
 and the strength and weakness of their minds. Jealous of 
 his power, he nevertheless was at one time willing to share 
 the burden of it with M. Chauvelin, whom he had always 
 liked, and who, in truth, had great talents, knew public 
 affairs, managed with adroitness foreign courts, but was 
 never able to take the tone of that of Versailles. 
 
 It was said that he showed too much impatience to 
 succeed his benefactor. Becoming Keeper of the Seals, he 
 shared the homage of the Court with the cardinal; he 
 embarked him in the war of 1733, which was very glorious 
 for France and gave to M. Chauvelin a great reputation. 
 People are always a little jealous of their heirs ; the cardinal 
 became so of this work of his hands, and as he could not do 
 without a Keeper of the Seals while the war lasted, he hastened 
 to make the Peace of Vienna. M. Chauvelin was arrested, 
 sent first to his Chateau of Grosbois, and then to Bourges. 
 It was said, perhaps wrongfully, that the Marquis de Mar- 
 tignac, who had passed as the satellite of the Keeper of the 
 Seals, denied the intimacy on one occasion after his dis- 
 missal. The Duchesse d'Aumont, who was indignant, inter- 
 rupted him saying, "And the cock crew," which made 
 
122 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 everybody laugh. The saying was good, and is worthy of 
 being preserved. 
 
 After the cardinal's death, Chauvelin's friends advised 
 him to write to the king and send his Majesty a memorial, 
 in which the cardinal was harshly mentioned. ' The king 
 saw in this risky step ingratitude and a want of respect to 
 himself. M. Chauvelin was relegated to Issoire; his exile 
 lasted many years. 
 
 The Peace of Vienna was the crown of the cardinal's 
 glory. If, after giving Lorraine to France, weakening the 
 House of Austria, and establishing a branch of that of France 
 in Italy, he had had the courage to abdicate as prime- 
 minister, he would have ranked among the greatest min- 
 isters ; he would have kept all his credit, aU his influence 
 even, and his memory would have been held in respect by 
 Europe. But he trusted to his immortality ; his health was 
 exceUent; and by means of a little rouge put into water, 
 with which he rubbed his face, and false teeth, he made 
 his enemies despair and deluded himself. Moreover, great 
 public matters had never kept him from sleeping ; his head 
 was cool and his stomach warm. One day when he was 
 eating all sorts of unwholesome things, some one said to him 
 that he risked making himself Ul. "Pooh!" he replied, 
 " I have a stomach that digests iron." M. de Campo-Florido, 
 Spanish Ambassador, a malicious monkey, hearing the re- 
 mark said, " I am glad of that, monseigneur ; for this after- 
 noon I have things to say to your Eminence which are hard 
 of digestion." 
 
 Invulnerable as the cardinal was, he had, nevertheless, 
 a dangerous illness at Fontainebleau, and everybody thought 
 he was dying; they could not believe that at his age he 
 would recover. The Spanish ambassador, whom I have just 
 mentioned, was perpetually in his antechamber watching 
 
1735-1744] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 123 
 
 for news of his health, about which they were very inquisi- 
 tive in Spain; every one knew that the queen (Farnese) 
 hated the cardinal. M. de Campo, to make himself sure, 
 was continually asking to see his Eminence ; the latter, who 
 liked well enough to make fools of people, gave orders, when 
 his strength was returning, to let the ambassador come in. 
 M. de Campo found him in an arm-chair, looking more like 
 a corpse than a living man; his head was sunk into his 
 chest, and his voice, feeble and broken, seemed to come from 
 the other world. The ambassador, on the testimony of his 
 own eyes, decided that his Eminence had not three days 
 to live ; he went away and immediately despatched a courier 
 to Spain with the good news. That done, he returned to the 
 chateau, and the first person he saw on entering the king's 
 apartments was the cardinal, straight as a cedar, rosy in 
 complexion, finest teeth in the world, on his way to do 
 business with his Majesty; he bowed as he passed the 
 ambassador, and asked him if he had not just despatched 
 a courier to Spain. 
 
 After the Peace of Vienna the cardinal enjoyed a consid- 
 eration that was almost universal ; he could flatter himself with 
 having won the confidence of all the Courts, even those that 
 were most inimical to ours. The Emperor Charles VI. treated 
 him as a friend ; this prince had his aims ; he knew that by 
 flattering the cardinal he could make France guarantee the 
 Pragmatic Sanction [Article 10 of the Treaty of Vienna]. 
 It is a question stiU to be decided whether this guarantee 
 was, or was not, a great political error ; but we are obliged to 
 agree that having so solemnly secured the succession of the 
 House of the States of Austria, France ought never to have 
 invaded them on the death of Charles VI. ; and all the more, 
 because, without striking a blow she could have drawn great 
 advantages from that succession. But the Mar^chal de Belle- 
 
124 MEMOIRS AMD LETTERS OF [chap. h. 
 
 isle, for whom Madame de L^vis had inspired the cardinal 
 with a great predilection, presented very fine plans, and one 
 may truly say that he bewitched his Eminence by a species 
 of magic and made him undertake, against his principles 
 and against his taste, an enterprise much above his strength, 
 and which his great age wordd not allow him to see finished. 
 It was then that the limits of the cardinal's capacity were 
 seen ; he adopted a great plan and had but little power to exe- 
 cute it ; he had the grief to see the treasury exhausted, — 
 he who all his life had sought to replenish it by prudent 
 economy, which it may justly be said he carried to excess. 
 
 He saw with bitterness that he would survive his repu- 
 tation, and perhaps his influence; for the king, who was 
 beginning to take pleasure in the society of women, did not 
 always show his usual deference for the cardinal's advice. 
 He finally died at the seminary of Saint-Sulpice at Issy, 
 January 29, 1743, in his ninetieth year. It has been said 
 that he might have made an excellent minister to some 
 minor sovereign. Without ostentation himself, he set an 
 example of general economy; orderly in his private affairs, 
 he liked order in those of the State. His spirit was wise. 
 Violent methods were not to his taste; and if, on many 
 occasions, he did not uphold the king's authority firmly, he, 
 at any rate, seldom compromised it. His zeal for religion 
 and for the decency of morals was most praiseworthy. 
 Possibly he might have followed a better system of healing 
 disputes ; but it can be said that at his death there was no 
 longer any question of Jansenism, the ashes of which have 
 been of late years very unwisely stirred up. Under the minis- 
 try of Cardinal de Fleury, the king's Council had more author- 
 ity, and kept its secrets better ; the great bodies in the State 
 were more submissive; the ministers more respected; and 
 France herself more respectable. 
 
1735-1744] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 125 
 
 We must also praise the^ cardinal for having thought so 
 late of elevating his family. If he obtained great titles and 
 great places for his nephews, it was not at the expense of the 
 State ; these gifts were pure favours, and the men to whom 
 they were given were among the best and most honourable 
 persons in society. 
 
 I have said the good; I shall not disguise his errors. 
 The greatest of all, I have already noted ; it was that of 
 diminishiug in the king any taste that he might have had for 
 work. The prince needed occupation ; he had aU the quali- 
 ties necessary for useful labour. The distrust with which 
 Cardinal de Fleury inspired him for his own ideas was 
 unjust and unreasonable. 
 
 Cardinal de Fleury preferred men of mediocrity. He 
 carefully set aside all who bore the stamp of superiority. 
 He wished to reign, and he knew his weakness. Economy, 
 which is the basis of all administration of the finances, will 
 prevent their ruin, but is not enough alone to regenerate 
 them. Cardinal de Fleury had none of the views of a great 
 minister, either on commerce, or on the marine, which is 
 the strength of commerce, or on agriculture, or on popu- 
 lation, the primary sources of the wealth and strength of 
 States. He courted financiers ia order to obtain from them, 
 at need, resources of money, and by this method he made 
 the operations of the government dependent on bankers. It 
 is not the wealth of a few private individuals which ought to 
 sustain a State in a crisis; it is rather the wealth of the 
 State which should protect and save the fortunes of subjects. 
 
 And lastly, the cardinal hated men of letters, and gave 
 too little protection to the arts and sciences which made so 
 illustrious the reign of Louis XIV., and brought more money 
 into his kingdom than his wars, often undertaken unad- 
 visedly, took out of it. 
 
126 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. n. 
 
 One of the first acquaintances which I made on entering 
 society was Cardinal de Polignac, to whom, on the paternal 
 and the maternal side, I have the honour to be related. I 
 owe to the friendship with which he favoured me a tribute 
 of gratitude to his memory; moreover, he well deserves 
 in other ways not to be forgotten. 
 
 Cardinal de Polignac was one of those men to whom 
 nothing is needed in order to be great but a little more 
 vigour of character. No one had a nobler air ; his person 
 would have been imposing if gentleness had not tempered 
 its majesty. He spoke with grace and eloquence ; one did 
 not notice that he spoke at too great length imtil one was 
 no longer with him. His memory was as correct as it was 
 well-furnished ; his knowledge extended over many matters ; 
 it might, however, have been desired that the depth of that 
 knowledge had equalled its extent. He played a great 
 part in the world without ever having been fortunate or 
 suf&ciently able. He committed imprudences in Poland ; he 
 brought back from Gertruydenberg only the fame of having 
 spoken eloquently. One of the plenipotentiaries of the Dutch 
 republic said of him : " It must be acknowledged that the 
 Abb^ de Polignac did his humanities well." At Utrecht he 
 showed that he was not well informed on the boundaries of 
 Acadia (which are to-day the cause of our war with Eng- 
 land), nor on the importance of the valleys ceded to the 
 king of Sardinia. The Peace of Utrecht does him, neverthe- 
 less, great honour. To properly judge of a work we must 
 enter into all the circumstances under which it was done. 
 
 In Eome, Cardinal de Polignac acquired a less disputed 
 reputation. Magnificent, loving antiquities, knowing the 
 arts, cordial to artists, he was there in his element. His 
 palace was a species of academy, where more dissertations 
 were made than diplomatic business done. Despatches 
 

 Rigaud. 
 
 K^i-a;^t> 
 
1735-1744] CAEDINAL DE BERNIS. 127 
 
 were often sacrificed to the Muses, and the reading of works 
 of intellect delayed the departure of couriers. It may be 
 said that Cardinal de Polignac had all the knowledge that 
 belongs to a statesman, and even the views of one, but not 
 the character; his soul was too soft and too indolent. 
 
 No one ever had as much coquetry of the mind as he ; he 
 wanted to please and to be liked. This weakness led him into 
 the commission of many faults. It dragged him into the 
 miserable intrigues of the Duchesse du Maine, which caused 
 him to be exiled for the second time. If the cardinal had died 
 in Eome, or in his archbishopric, he would have left behind 
 him a great reputation ; but he returned to Paris with the idea 
 of playing the grand personage by the mere weight of his 
 name, his talents, and his services. Honest man and citizen, 
 he disdained intrigues, and refused himself to the Jansenist 
 party which opened its arms to him. Cardinal de Fleury 
 ceased to fear him, and even dared to turn him into ridicule ; 
 many others, following this example, were as bold : so that 
 this man, so distinguished for his birth, his intellect, and his 
 dignities, was reduced to being the ornament of the academies. 
 
 I have said somewhere that he was not averse to the mar- 
 vellous ; I do not mean that his mind was weak, but before 
 deciding that anything was impossible he wished to fathom 
 it in every direction, and know all that could be said about 
 it, both for and against. He was relating one day the legend 
 of Saint-Denis, and how that saint had carried his head in 
 his hands for a distance of several leagues. A clever woman, 
 impatient with the tale, said very wittily : " The number of 
 leagues has nothing to do with it, monseigneur ; c'est le pre- 
 mier pas qui coUte." 
 
 No one employed better than he, nor for a longer time, the 
 right of speech. Some one asked Voltaire one day : " Where 
 are you going so early ? " "I am going," he replied, " to listen 
 
128 MEMOIRS AOTD LETTERS OE [chap. n. 
 
 to a monologue by Cardiaal de Polignac." M. de Mairan, 
 referring to the same thing, wanted a portrait made of the 
 cardinal in which he should be represented seated comfortably 
 in an arm-chair, his hand stretched forth a little, in the atti- 
 tude of a man who is talking, and around him an infinitude 
 of ears, women's little ears, philosophers' big ears, the ears of 
 theologians, archaeologists, artists ; beneath which should be 
 inscribed the words: "The Paradise of Polignac." 
 
 In spite of these jests, it may be said that M. de Polignac 
 was a rare man, who did honour to his epoch. The Latin 
 poem he left behind him \_Anti-Lucretius, sive de Deo et 
 natura ; libri novem] is more esteemed by foreigners than by 
 Prenchmen. Latin poetry has declined in Prance, the phil- 
 osophy of Descartes still more so ; but this work alone wordd 
 have won for Cardinal de Polignac a distinguished place in 
 men's esteem, had he had no other claim to it. 
 
 I owe to the confidence of this celebrated man, and to the 
 pleasure he took in instructing me, a great quantity of detailed 
 knowledge which is not to be found in books. From the 
 time I was twenty I seldom passed a day without conversing 
 with Cardinal de Polignac for an hour or more ; he was a 
 universal dictionary which I went to consult. He put me 
 into communication with his oldest friends ; M. de Torcy was 
 one of them. This minister is known for his Memoirs, which 
 are written with much nobleness, simplicity, and truth ; but 
 the virtues of M. de Torcy were much above his talents. It 
 was also through Cardinal de Polignac that I made acquaint- 
 ance with Chancellor d'Aguesseau, that great and virtuous 
 magistrate, who had no other defect than that of being some- 
 times undecided by force of having many ideas. 
 
 It win be supposed, of course, that Cardinal de Polignac 
 presented me to the Duchesse du Maine, by whom he had 
 allowed himself to be loved all his life. This princess had 
 
1735-1744] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 129 
 
 great intelligence ; she had the art of preserving around her 
 the air of a Court, and of gathering at Sceaux the sciences, 
 the arts, and at the same time all that there was of sublime 
 and frivolous, best and worst company in Paris. Mme. de Staal 
 de Launay, whose Memoirs we have, had fixed the favour of 
 this fickle princess by force of merit. The Duchesse du 
 Maine always passed rapidly from serious things to trifles, 
 from the Academy of Sciences to a puppet-show. The Coun- 
 tess of Sandwich (who had the most masculine face and mind 
 that I have ever known in any woman) said of Mme. du 
 Maine, with whom she passed her life : " If the duchess 
 had the sceptre of the world, she would find the way to make 
 a rattle of it." The definition was correct. 
 
 It was in the society of eminent and enlightened persons 
 that I passed my youth ; my productions were welcomed 
 there, and thence I drew my first lessons in taste and the 
 usages of social life. I was, besides, in close intimacy with 
 Fontenelle, President Montesquieu, and the other leaux 
 esprits of the period. The amateurs of art were all acquaint- 
 ances of mine. Foreigners of distinction did not escape me. 
 My plan was to know all Europe without leaving Paris ; to 
 fathom the manners and morals of all societies and States ; 
 in a word, to study men rather than books. This study has 
 since been very useful to me. 
 
 Pfere Tournemine, the Jesuit, whom I have already men- 
 tioned, proposed to Cardinal de Polignac to give me his Latin 
 poem of "Anti-Lucretius" to translate into French verse. 
 The cardinal told me I could do better; that he himself 
 had only attacked the materialists, but that in a work of the 
 same character I could fight with the sceptics. My spirit 
 was fired by this advice, and I began at once my poem called 
 " Eeligion ; " I composed the first four cantos in 1737 with 
 surprising facility. I carried weekly to the cardinal what I 
 
 TOL. I. — 9 
 
130 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 wrote, and read it before the most distinguished men of 
 letters ; so it is seen that all the works of my youth were 
 not frivolous. 
 
 Cardinal de Polignac died November, 1741, at the age of 
 eighty-one, with much religion, courage, and presence of 
 mind. I have a fancy to add to this account of him 
 certain verses of the Duchesse du Maine, which describe 
 her bon ami marvellously well : — 
 
 " De son divin Systeme 
 Poligaac p&etr^, 
 Va voir Vktve supreme 
 Qu'il nous a demontr^. 
 II se met en chemin ; 
 Mais bientot tout I'arrSte 
 Bois, bergers, et moutons, don, don ; 
 Partout il s'arreta, la, la ; 
 Bref, il manqua la fete.'' 
 
 The famous Ninon I'Enclos, to whom they presented him, 
 as the fashion was, when twelve years old, said, after asking 
 him many questions : " Some day he will have more wit 
 than he needs; and that is a great pity." 
 
 The agreeable life that I led in the world had procured 
 me many friends, and a rather great celebrity ; but fortune, 
 which I neglected, never ceased to iLl-treat me. I was ap- 
 pointed in 1739 to a canonry at Brioude in Auvergne ; it was 
 a suitable place for a gentleman, but the revenue was very 
 insufficient. I left Paris to take possession of my county — 
 that is how they call the canonries of Brioude. The church 
 of Saint-Etienne is one of the most ancient of the Gauls ; its 
 chapter dates back to the reign of Clovis the Second ; it is 
 necessary for a candidate to produce proof of four generations 
 of nobility, on the side of both father and mother. 
 
 I recovered in Auvergne from the prejudice that a man 
 can live nowhere but in Paris ; I found in that province 
 
1735-1744] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 131 
 
 nen of solid minds, and sometimes agreeable men. I lived 
 iliere a year, and made the flatteriag conquest of M. 
 Massillon, Bishop of Clermont. That' excellent man passed 
 part of the year at the comitry-house of Beauregard, so-called 
 m account of the beauty and singularity of its situation, 
 [t was in this retreat that M. Massillon retouched and ar- 
 ranged the admirable sermons which have appeared since 
 lis death. I have never known a man who, with the 
 simplest exterior, inspired more easily veneration and love. 
 Eis mind developed only by degrees; but once roused, it 
 took on the most brilliant yet the most natural colours, 
 lidored in his diocese, he had banished from it aU disputes 
 ibout religion, though Clermont was one of the cradles of 
 Jansenism. One day when he was showing his garden at 
 Beauregard to a foreigner, and the foreigner was exclaiming 
 it the beauty and richness of the view, he said : " Come into 
 bhis path and I wiU show you something more remarkable 
 than aU that." The path was dark, and the foreigner ex- 
 pressed his surprise at seeing nothing remarkable. " What ! " 
 said M. Massillon, "don't you see that Jesuit and that 
 Father from the Oratoire playing ball together? That is 
 what I have brought them to." 
 
 I showed M. Massillon the first four cantos of my poem 
 igainst sceptics ; he exhorted me to extend the work and 
 finish it. He wanted to attach me to the Church, to give 
 me Orders, and make me his grand-vicar, saying : "I have 
 only my reputation, but there is some regard still paid to 
 that at Versailles ; you will be sooner a bishop by working' 
 under my eyes than if you attach yourself to some great 
 seigneur." I made him understand, with great detail, the 
 motives of religion and honesty which forbade me to take 
 that course. He approved of my scruples, and liked and 
 esteemed me the more for them. 
 
132 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. n. 
 
 But he advised me to attach myself to Foreign Affairs, 
 and told me that I should have much success in the career 
 of negotiation. He made me promise, moreover, that on my 
 return to Paris I would have an explanation with Cardinal 
 de Fleury. " You know how to speak," he said ; " your 
 frankness and candour create an interest in you ; the harsh- 
 est men do not hold out against that seduction ; perhaps you 
 will bring the cardinal back to you ; at any rate, you lose 
 nothing by attempting it." I promised to follow his advice, 
 and did so in 1743, with what result will be seen presently. 
 
 From Auvergne I went to Languedoc, where I spent three 
 months with my father. I did not think from the good 
 health in which I found him that I should lose him in two 
 years. I composed in his house, without any assistance 
 from books, the six last cantos of my poem on " Eeligion." ^ 
 It would hardly be believed with what ease I wrote in those 
 days. The canto of "Pyrrhonism," which contains nearly 
 eight hundred lines, was begun and ended in twenty-four 
 hours without any interval; and I ought to say that such 
 rapid work did not need as much correction as might be 
 supposed. That poem finished, I returned to Paris, with 
 my portfolio full, but with very little money; which did 
 not cause me any anxiety ; at the bottom of my soul I 
 always found hope, and a species of certainty to make my 
 way to fortune. 
 
 I did not find Paris cold to me on my return from Lan- 
 guedoc. My ideas had ripened in retirement ; my spirit was 
 more manly, and my imagination had lost nothing; bril- 
 liant health, and twenty-five years of age are always well- 
 
 1 The following are the titles of the ten cantos : 1. Introduction. 
 2. Idolatry. 3. Atheism. 4. Materialism of Epicurus. 5. Spinozalsm. 
 6. Deism. 7. Pyrrhonism. 8. Heresy. 9. Corruption of mind and 
 morals. 10. The Triumph of Religion. 
 
1735-1744] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 133 
 
 received in the great world. The fashion of miad and 
 intelligence had not passed ; we may even say the malady 
 was epidemic. My poem of " Eeligion " excited much curi- 
 osity; men of letters and men of society were equally 
 desirous of hearing it, and it was good style to have listened 
 to it. 
 
 One circumstance, which I shall here relate, aided my 
 celebrity. I remembered the promise I had made to the 
 Bishop of Clermont and I resolved to have an explanation 
 with Cardinal de Fleury. Barjac, that famous valet-de- 
 chambre to whom nearly the whole Court cringed, but who 
 never forgot himself, arranged an interview for me with his 
 master. He announced me to his Eminence, whom I can 
 see now, leaning upon a little table with a large hat on his 
 head. As he heard me named he bowed and said, shaking 
 his head a little, " Ah ! ah ! " 
 
 I went forward with a modest but confident manner, and 
 said : " Monseigneur, as long as I was a mere child I re- 
 spected the prejudices of your Eminence, but to-day I am 
 of an age to endeavour to remove them ; honour even makes 
 it a duty to do so. I have come to ask your Eminence 
 how it was that I, so young, could have been so undeserving 
 as to displease the king ; of what am I accused ? Have I 
 failed in religion, in my duty as a subject, in honesty — ? " 
 
 " Monsieur," interrupted the cardinal, " you are taking the 
 matter in a very grave way : you are not blamed for any- 
 thing that affects principles. But you have no vocation." 
 
 "You reassure me," I replied. "God alone reads the 
 heart; and since your Excellency has nothing essential 
 against me, I venture to claim the kindness which you 
 promised to my father; if I am guilty of none but the 
 follies of youth, I could tell you more of those than you 
 know, and I do not believe they would injure me in your 
 
134 MEMOIRS AKD LETTEES OF [chap. ii. 
 
 mind, for every man has been young ; therefore I entreat 
 your Eminence to come to my assistance — " 
 
 I saw, toward the end of my harangue that the cardinal's 
 face darkened, and here he interrupted me with temper and 
 said in a harsh tone, " Oh ! monsieur, as long as I live you 
 shall never have a benefice." 
 
 " Well, then, monseigneur, I will wait," I replied, making 
 him a low bow. 
 
 I perceived as I withdrew that the cardinal thought the 
 speech witty ; and it was he who divulged it. All the good 
 company of the Court and city applauded it. They thought 
 it simple, noble, courageous, and decent. It wounded an old 
 man and disarmed him at the same time. In short, the 
 speech had a great vogue ; every one was curious to see a 
 young man who had dared to give a rap to an aU-powerful 
 minister. That speech, which became celebrated, seemed 
 to square so well with the events of my life that I took it 
 for my motto, and I say to-day, as in 1742, "I will 
 wait." 
 
 The cardinal did not make me wait long ; he died in 
 1743. The king, who was, they said, very weary of him, 
 seemed to regret him; but he soon consoled himself and 
 never mentioned his name for many years. It is only lately 
 that he has spoken of him, when occasion offers, without 
 praise or blame. 
 
 As for me, I gained nothing by the cardinal's death. His 
 successor in the ministry of Church Affairs, Boyer, Bishop 
 of Mirepois, put such conditions to the favours I asked that 
 my way of thinking would not allow me to accept them. 
 
 This bishop received the portfolio of benefices immediately 
 after the death of Cardinal de Fleury, and it may be said 
 that he knew how to make himself master of his department, 
 and that no one had power or any real influence over his 
 
1735-1744] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 135 
 
 mind. His intentions were upright, but his discernment 
 was not brilliant. He did not like the nobles, and preferred 
 to be deceived by obscure persons. He conducted the affairs 
 of religion with more zeal than prudence. The ministry of 
 Cardinal de Fleury had almost annihilated Jansenism in 
 France. The Convulsionaries had cast great ridicule on the 
 party ; the celebrated writers who had defended it were 
 dead ; only one suspected bishop was left, and he had one 
 foot in the grave. It was now necessary to simply establish 
 in the Church the grounds of fixed doctrine, to oppose con- 
 tempt and silence to the vain efforts of an expiriag faction, 
 and all would have been ended ; the Church and State 
 would have enjoyed a continued tranquillity. The Bishop 
 of Mirepoix, by dint of zeal and harshness, contrived to 
 rekindle the dying embers of Jansenism. He was the cause, 
 or the occasion, of the protection which the parliaments gave 
 to it ; in a word, that party recovered its strength. Would 
 it not have been wiser and safer to allow it to die a lingering 
 death ? 
 
 The Bishop of Mirepoix thought he possessed a very 
 singular talent. He believed he read characters on counte- 
 nances, and this imcertain science often decided him in 
 making important choices. In other respects the bishop 
 had no knowledge of the world nor of the Court. The King 
 of Spain had charged his ambassador M. de Campo-Florido 
 to ask the king for a benefice for an ecclesiastic who had 
 been a monk, and whom his Catholic Majesty protected. 
 The king sent the ambassador to the Bishop of Mirepoix. 
 M. de Campo went to see the prelate on Ash-Wednesday, 
 and told him his mission, which was very ill-received, and 
 as the ambassador insisted, in the name of the king and the 
 name of his own master, the bishop said angrily, " How can 
 you expect me to give an abbey to a man who has been 
 
136 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 a monk ? " " Moussiou, memento homo," replied the ambas- 
 sador, walking away. 
 
 M. de Mirepoix had not inherited Cardinal de Fleury's 
 prejudices against me. A Benedictine who had written 
 against the Convulsionaries (and who, by the bye, instead of 
 stamping the pretended miracles as false, adopted the danger- 
 ous principle of explaining events that seemed to him super- 
 natural by the power of the devU), this Benedictine, I say, 
 becoming Bishop of Bethlehem, was the oracle of M. de 
 Mirepoix, and had taken such a friendship for me that long 
 before the latter was minister of benefices, he had inspired 
 him with a high idea of my talents and a desire to attach me 
 to the Church. So now the Bishop of Bethlehem introduced 
 me to the Bishop of Mirepoix by a letter, in which, thinking 
 to make my court to the prelate, he spoke advantageously of 
 my poem of " Eeligion." He knew him HI. M. de Mirepoix 
 received me in relation to that work as if I had written the 
 tales of La Fontaine. I saw with surprise the limits of his 
 intelligence. It was necessary to explain to him that poesy 
 had always been consecrated to religion; that the Psalms, 
 the Song of Songs, the Book of Job were poems ; that the 
 fathers of the Church had fought heresy with verses ; and 
 finally, that the Church had blessed the use of hymns and 
 canticles. He could not answer my arguments, but he kept 
 his prejudices. To make my peace, we agreed that nothing 
 further should be said about my poem, but that it should not 
 be considered an irremissible crime to have occupied my 
 youth with a defence of religion. 
 
 These preliminaries signed, we entered upon the main 
 subject. The Bishop of Mirepoix said to me these very 
 words : " You have great talents ; you must consecrate them 
 to the Church, and take the final vows. Monsieur," he 
 added, pressing my hand, " it is in the name of the Church 
 
1735-1744] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 137 
 
 that I speak to you ; sub-deacon, an abbey ; priest, two years 
 grand-vicar, then bishop." 
 
 " Monseigneur," I replied, " I advise you not to make those 
 offers to every man ; you would have them accepted ; as for 
 me, I will reflect upon them." 
 
 " Monsieur," added the bishop, hastily, " if you do not take 
 Orders, you will have nothing." 
 
 " I will reflect," I said, " and let you know my decision ; 
 be sure that it will conform to religion and honour." 
 
 I reflected that my fortune depended on the course I should 
 now take. All my friends advised me to defer to the opinion 
 of M. de Mirepoix. As for me, I felt an invincible repug- 
 nance to make those sacred vows from the double motive of 
 interest and ambition. I in.f ormed the bishop of my way of 
 thinking ; he approved it, while informing me that I could 
 look for no ecclesiastical favours. Some years later, the 
 king had the kindness to speak to M. de Mirepoix for me 
 about an abbey ; the bishop intrenched himself behind the 
 fact that I was not in Orders. I was strongly urged to take 
 them ; but I was immovable, preferring an honourable poverty 
 to an opulence Hi-obtained.-' I have always ascribed to that 
 act of honesty and courage, not only the esteem with which 
 the king has honoured me, but even the fortune I have since 
 made. 
 
 The king gave way to M. de Mirepoix's resistance, but he 
 gave me a pension of 1,500 francs out of his privy-purse. 
 
 1 The following anecdote I hold from M. Firmin-Didot himself, who told 
 me he had it from the original and from tradition. Bernis, in the days of 
 his great poverty and his dinners with Diderot at six sous a head, was 
 employed as proof-reader by the publishing and printing-house of Didot, 
 great-grandfather of my informant. There he had his lodging and break- 
 fast with the family. One day the head of the house, not seeing him, said ; 
 " Is not Bernis coming to breakfast ? " " No," said one of the family, 
 " he is busy just now ; he is mending his breeches." — Sainte-Beuve. 
 
138 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OP [chap. ii. 
 
 It will be seen under what circumstances and from what 
 motives I finally took Holy Orders, being then ambassador in 
 Venice. As long as the Bishop of Mirepoi:s lived I neither 
 solicited him nor allowed him to be solicited in my behalf. 
 Pope Benedict XIV. appointed me in 1749 to a benefice in 
 Bretagne [the pope disposing for eight months of the year of 
 aU benefices falling vacant in that province during that time]. 
 The Bishop of MirepoLx congratulated me. I said to him, 
 " The pope has raised the interdict you put upon me." That 
 speech made the Court laugh. It was the only revenge I 
 allowed myself against the bishop's harshness. But that 
 harshness was vanquished in the end. On my return from 
 Venice in 1755, 1 obtained the abbey of Saint-Arnould, and it 
 was M. de Mirepoix who bestowed it, with all the grace in 
 the world. I may call it his swan's-song ; he died six weeks 
 after announcing to me that gift of the king. He had never 
 been much esteemed, and was little regretted. 
 
 My life up to the year 1744 had been nothing but a series 
 of disappointments, for which the pleasure of being loved and 
 valued was the only compensation. I had just closed to my- 
 self the door of benefices ; it was absolutely necessary to find 
 another career. I bethought me of entering the French Acad- 
 emy. The Academy was, as the Abb^ de la Bletterie wittily 
 said to the dowager Duchesse d'Aiguillon, " the tabouret of 
 talent." It was pleasant to enter that Company at my age, 
 and I desired to take my place there more as a man of rank 
 than as a writer. I took, in consequence, the proper steps. 
 All the best company of Paris and Versailles interested 
 themselves for me. Mme. de Tencin put herself at the head 
 of the opposite party. We had to give battle ; the combat 
 was long, and victory for a long time was undecided. I shall 
 remark, in passing, that I have always obtained that which 
 I strongly desired ; although it is true that fortune has con- 
 
1735-1744] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 139 
 
 tested her favours, and I was forced to snatch them. The king 
 fell ill at Metz ; and my adversaries profited by that event to 
 postpone the election to the Academy. 
 
 The king's illness made him know the hearts of his sub- 
 jects. Never was grief more keen or more universal; it 
 can only be compared to the intoxication of joy which the 
 return of the health of the monarch caused. I shall not 
 relate here aU the intrigues at Metz during this illness, and 
 the dismissal of Mme. de Chateauroux and her sister. The 
 Bishop of Soissons was exiled, and so were the Duos de 
 Chatillon and de La Eochefoucauld. I neither justify nor 
 blame their conduct ; we may suppose their motives to have 
 been good, inasmuch as every one does homage to their integ- 
 rity. I shall only say, in regard to M. de Soissons, that it is 
 sometimes a most unfortunate thing to be forced to teU the 
 truth to princes ; and, in regard to the others, that you must 
 never think a king dead imtil he is really so, and that mean- 
 time you should behave as if he were not ill at all. 
 
 The king, escaping the grave, went in very severe weather 
 to the conquest of Fribourg ; he returned triumphant to Paris, 
 and this prince who, a month earlier, was the idol of all 
 hearts, was received with very faint applause in his capital. 
 The rumour had spread that he intended to take back 
 Mme. de Chateauroux. Nothing more was needed to chill 
 all hearts. The people, corrupt as they are, desire their kings 
 to love their wives ; they know, moreover, that mistresses do 
 not diminish taxes. 
 
 I must here relate a circumstance which plainly shows 
 the nature of courtiers. M. de Villeneuve, former ambassa- 
 dor to the Porte, had been appointed minister of Foreign 
 Affairs. The king on his return from Fribourg, lodged in 
 the Tuileries ; an immense crowd attended his lever ; I was 
 there ; it was impossible to stir. M. de Villeneuve had not 
 
140 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 yet seen the king since his appointment ; he came to thank 
 him, so it was supposed, for the office confided to him. His 
 external appearance was not imposing ; but the vast crowd 
 opened to let him pass, and an air of respect was visible on 
 all faces. He entered the king's presence ; in a few moments 
 the news flew about that M. de ViUeneuve had told the 
 king that the mediocrity of his talents and the bad state of 
 his health did not permit him to take upon himself so great 
 a burden : it was the act of a wise and virtuous citizen. 
 The king yielded to his entreaty, which was known at once 
 in the antechamber, and when M. de ViUeneuve came out 
 no one would make way for a personage before whom ten 
 minutes earlier they had prostrated themselves. The Due 
 d'Orldans, regent, once said of a man at Court " He is a per- 
 fect courtier — without honour and without temper." The 
 definition would have been perfect if he had added, " with- 
 out shame." 
 
 In spite of the intrigues of Mme. de Tencin, I was received 
 at the French Academy, the duties of which place I fulfilled 
 for several years with punctuality and some distinction. I 
 soon became the friend of my colleagues and the benefactor 
 of those who had opposed me. But, content with haviag 
 made myself a name in letters, I did not wish it to be thought 
 that I confined myself to cultivating them. Too great an 
 assiduity at the sessions of the Academy would have been 
 harmful to the views that I was beginniag to have. I 
 avoided therefore the sort of ridicule that people in society 
 would certainly have put upon me, and by this conduct I 
 saved myself from the danger there is from satire to those who 
 live closely with men of letters. M. Piron said a very good 
 thing about my entrance at the Academy : " We are getting 
 the Invalids very young." 
 
 Before contiauiug the history of my life, which will soon 
 
1735-1744] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 141 
 
 become more interesting, I think I ought to make known the 
 three classes of persons with whom in my youth I chiefly 
 lived : men of letters, women, and great seigneurs. 
 
 First, men of letters. The essential and distinctive charac- 
 ter of these men is self-love. This is what often makes inter- 
 course with them both fatiguing and dangerous ; fatiguing, 
 because we must compel ourselves to praise them constantly, 
 or to hear them praise themselves ; dangerous, because the 
 least scratch to their vanity kindles their hatred and excites 
 their vengeance. A woman never pardons a disparagement 
 made upon her face; the man of letters never forgets a 
 want of respect for his mind. Thus I advise men of sense 
 never to quarrel with authors, or else to avoid their 
 intercourse. 
 
 I never knew any one but Fontenelle who had aU the 
 charms of intellect in society without the inconveniences of 
 the hel esprit. This was not because he was devoid of self- 
 love, but because his usage of the world and of philosophy had 
 made that self-love gentler and more sociable. Here are a 
 few traits of M. de Fontenelle which wiU make known his 
 character and the turn of his mind. He was in favour dur- 
 ing the Eegeney, and carried upon him when he went out a 
 pocket-book fuU of bank-notes. Some one told him that he 
 risked much at night, there were thieves about, and he ought 
 to take precautions. " What precautions ? " he asked. " Poc- 
 ket-pistols," was the reply. " Pooh ! " he said " they would 
 steal those." 
 
 Towards the end of his life he went to see a woman who, 
 like himself, was nearly a hundred years old. " Death has 
 forgotten us, monsieur," she said to him. " Hush ! " he re- 
 plied, putting his finger on his lips, " he may hear you." 
 
 When I solicited his vote for the Academy he said : " You 
 know how much I like and esteem you, but I have made a 
 
142 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OP [chap. n. 
 
 VOW to my country never to say a yes or a no." When I re- 
 turned from Venice lie clasped me tightly in his arms and 
 said : " I love you much, and for that reason I wish you may 
 not live to be as old as I am." 
 
 President de Montesquieu also had all the appearances of 
 modesty ; seeing him so simple you had to search for the 
 great man in him. Voltaire, whom I consider the finest 
 mind [Z« plus hel esprif] of his epoch, has the air of an author 
 only with authors ; in society he is a polished courtier, witty 
 and well-informed. Cr^billon senior also shows the simplic- 
 ity of a man of genius, but his mind has nothing but strength 
 and no charm. His son, on the contrary, adds to imagination 
 much fire and gaiety ; it is a pity he writes nothing but tales 
 and romances. Piron, Duclos, and Marivaux have much 
 intellect, but Marivaux has given in to false taste, and Piron 
 has turned to singularity. Voltaire, meeting Piron after the 
 first representation of " Semiramis " [Voltaire's tragedy in 
 five acts], asked him if he liked it, saying that he should be 
 much flattered if it received the praise of a man like himself. 
 " Ah ! " said Piron, " you wish that I had written it." Duclos, 
 with better intellect than either, did not always avoid the 
 rock of singularity ; his soul, which is very honourable, ought 
 to render him dearer to his friends than even his mind. It 
 is a great pity that Gresset has neglected his talents, and 
 that despair of obtaining the first place has made him take to 
 silence. Bernard [Gentil-Bernard], who has always kept his 
 works in his portfolio, writes in the style of Ovid, with a more 
 correct but less flowing pen. I speak here of those men of 
 letters only who were most in society and whom I knew 
 best. 
 
 I lived a little with d'Alembert, but much with Mairan 
 and Maupertuis. D'Alembert writes well; Mairan has 
 many ideas, and wisdom of mind ; Maupertuis wanted to be 
 
1735-1744] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 143 
 
 singular, and he has become so more than was necessary ; 
 Buffon is a man of merit, who knows how to write and how 
 to conduct himself. [His " Natural History " did not begia 
 to appear till 1749.] As for the Abb6 Terrasson [Jean 
 Terrasson, translator of Diodorus Siculus], he was one of 
 the men I liked best to meet; he was naive in character, 
 eloc[uent when an argument grew warm, and ia the daily 
 current of life the best and most original of men without 
 assuming to be so. 
 
 I have said that on my entrance into the world wit was 
 much the fashion; every circle of society had its little 
 illustrious; the academies overflowed into city and Court; 
 men of letters ceased to work in their studies, they became 
 men of gallantry, and all the women thought they had 
 intellects ; books were multiplied and soon became frivolous ; 
 conversations degenerated into dissertations. To wit and 
 lei esprit succeeded the sciences ; every woman had her 
 geometrician, as she formerly had her page. To-day politics 
 and theories of government have banished from the great 
 world wit and science. Ambassadors have taken the place 
 of poets and men of science; everything in turn is the 
 fashion in Paris, even vice and virtue. 
 
 That which has always most revolted me in the society of 
 men of letters is the spirit of independence they very gen- 
 erally affect towards all spiritual and temporal authority. 
 Most of them like to turn sacred things into ridicule, as if 
 there were merit in attacking what is necessary to and 
 respected by other men. This literary pride and boldness 
 does not exist, however, except in men of letters who have 
 no hopes of fortune ; for none are less philosophical than 
 philosophers, and these grumblers at courtiers are base and 
 creeping enough when they do get some entrance at Court. 
 It must be understood that I am speaking generally ; for I 
 
144 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 have met among men of letters pure, noble, modest souls, 
 submissive to authority. 
 
 Before ending these remarks, I wish to say a word of wit 
 and intellect [csprii], to which every one pretends and which 
 each man defines as he pleases. I long thought it was suffi- 
 cient to say and write pretty things to be a man of intellect ; 
 but since then I have reflected; I think that one can be 
 agreeable, amusing, original even, without being very wise. 
 A man of intellect, as I now think, is one who enlightens 
 his epoch by useful works, renders men happy by wise laws, 
 renders them better by purifying morals, and by teaching 
 precepts ennobled by eloquence and embellished by imagina- 
 tion. All work which does not fulfil in some superior man- 
 ner a purpose of physical or moral utility ought not to win 
 for its author the reputation of a man of intellect. In a 
 word, I do not separate intellect from good sense and 
 virtue. 
 
 When I entered the great world I found it was thought 
 ridiculous for a husband to love his wife, or for a wife to love 
 her husband; manners and morals in this respect were so 
 general that Pierre de la Chaussde thought himself per- 
 mitted to attack this subject in a comedy which had much 
 success. Conjugal fidelity was at that time a virtue in the 
 minds of none but the bourgeoisie. This depravity of morals 
 is not so much the fashion at present ; society may not be 
 more virtuous, but it is at least more decent. 
 
 I have often heard the question of the superiority of men 
 over women discussed. When we have well reflected upon 
 it I believe we shall think that the superiority of men lies 
 only in the strength of their organs and a better education. 
 Madame Dupin, who has been very pretty, and has always 
 had more desire to think than she has actually thought, has 
 worked ten years to prove that men have no superiority. 
 
1735-1744] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 145 
 
 even bodily, over -women. I do not believe that her work, 
 if it ever appears, will change received ideas. Strength of 
 body must give to men real superiority, that of domination. 
 They have been masters, and they had to be so ; the strong 
 always rule the feeble. Men have founded States, because 
 they alone could conquer and defend them. If to this 
 physical advantage is joined that of a more enlightened and 
 more extended education, we can conceive without difficulty 
 that men, superior in strength, must also be superior in 
 knowledge. 
 
 I know in women but one evil common to their sex which 
 is not equally the attribute of men : I mean self-love, vanity 
 of their persons. This love in women is the first of all 
 their loves ; and it is in proportion to the art shown in 
 flattering that weakness that men secure the feelings of 
 women ; wisdom and virtue do not protect women from this 
 weakness. Queen Elizabeth, who had the mind of a man, 
 was flattered by a coarse speech made by an attendant on 
 the Dutch ambassador as he looked at her ; the pleasure of 
 making an impression on the senses of an unknown man 
 made his insolence and temerity disappear to her eyes. I 
 know one of the greatest and most virtuous princesses in the 
 world, who rapidly raised to the highest military rank a 
 foreigner whom she thought was in love with her ; flattered 
 self-love persuaded her soon after that she could confide to 
 him the welfare of her States. We see that this frenzy of 
 vanity is a distinctive weakness of the sex, to which we 
 must chiefly attribute the childish character which scarcely 
 ever abandons women wholly. We may even regard this 
 weakness as the root of all other weaknesses. 
 
 Apropos of the childish spirit, I wiU not let posterity 
 believe that the Marquise du Chatelet, sung by Voltaire, and 
 the commentator of Newton and Leibnitz, was a grave 
 
 VOL. I. — 10 
 
146 MEMOIES AND LETTEES OF [chap. ii. 
 
 personage. I have seen her for hours together ordering the 
 trimmings of a gown, and setting in motion an army of 
 pagoda idols of which her room was full. 
 
 I think that the present intercourse with women has 
 changed the morals of Frenchmen. Formerly men were 
 not admitted among them until they were at least thirty 
 years old. Up to that time men lived with men, their minds 
 were more manly, their principles of conduct more firm. 
 To-day it is the women who are teaching men to think ; at 
 seventeen years of age, and sometimes earlier, they are 
 received in society ; it is natural at that age to regard pleas- 
 ing women as the most important point of all; they are 
 early accustomed to effeminacy, to frivolity, and they enter 
 public employments with empty heads, and their hearts 
 filled with false principles. 
 
 It is asked sometimes whether women are more capable 
 of friendship than men. This question would be easy to 
 answer if the friendship of women for men were not always 
 a little passionate ; it is rare that a woman, however virtuous 
 she may be, does not love in her friend the charming man 
 whom she believes she pleases to the exclusion of others. 
 That is why the friendship of women is always jealous ; but 
 it must be allowed that it is more tender, more delicate, 
 more spiritual, more generous, and often more faithful than 
 that of men. What examples of this I coxild cite! The 
 women friends I have lost, and those I have preserved have 
 made the sorrow and the happiness of my life. 
 
 It must be owned, to the shame of our era, that the women 
 whose sole object is the pleasure of loving and being loved 
 have less of the great vices than other women. The am- 
 bition to govern belongs to the sex; but the means that 
 women take to do so are not all legitimate ; tender women 
 seek to reign only in the hearts of their lovers, but women of 
 
1735-1744] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 147 
 
 cold natures have all the other passions very keenly ; pride, 
 self-interest, ambition, revenge, reign within them in default 
 of love; and these passions are all the more dangerous 
 because they are nearly always hidden behind a veil of 
 falseness or a mask of hypocrisy. 
 
 In two words, women are the most faithful friends of 
 men, and the most doubtful friends of their own sez ; they 
 are the charm of society and the source of all our missteps. 
 
 Formerly the term " grand seigneur " was understood to 
 mean a man of illustrious birth who possessed, with great 
 estates, the great offices of the crown; or else one who, 
 being master of his own region, did not disdain to live there ; 
 having influence with the king, but seldom showing himself 
 at Court. These former great seigneurs had almost as many 
 followers as they had vassals, and the lesser nobility did 
 not blush to be attached to them. The reason is very simple : 
 great seigneurs had in those days enough influence to make 
 the fortunes of such gentlemen. But times are changed; 
 the possessors of the great fiefs no longer live on their 
 estates, the seigneurs of to-day have, it is true, their titles 
 and dignities, but none of the influence that properly belongs 
 to them. This reflection regulated my conduct in society ; 
 I sought friends among them, but I never sought for pro- 
 tectors, because such protection seemed to me little honour- 
 able, often useless, and not worth the price to be paid for it. 
 
 Honour has been given to Cardinal de Eichelieu for 
 having drawn the great seigneurs to Court and taking from 
 them a power and influence which, it must be owned, they 
 often abused. It is not true that Cardinal de Eichelieu was 
 the one to restore to the king the "power that these great 
 seigneurs had arrogated to themselves; it was Henri IV. 
 who began, and almost completed, this great work. It is 
 known that Henri IV., the best prince in the world, found 
 
148 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 
 
 it necessary to sacrifice Mar^chal de Biron to his authority. 
 But nothiug finer can be seen than the tranquillity which 
 Henri IV. established and maiataiued in his kingdom after 
 the League, and after he had conquered all France, bit by 
 bit, and sword iu hand. The ministry of Cardiaal de Eiche- 
 lieu, on the contrary, was perpetually agitated by civil wars 
 and conspiracies. He shed much blood, but not that of the 
 great men or the clever men who resisted him. After 
 the death of Louis XIII., who scarcely survived his minister, 
 it was seen that the great seigneurs had not been brought 
 by Eichelieu imder obedience. It was Henri IV. who 
 began that work, and Louis XIV. who finished it. 
 
 Stni, I do not know whether drawing aU the great nobles 
 to Court has really been so great a good for the king and 
 for the kingdom. The revenues of their estates, which 
 ought to circulate in the provinces, is now lost in the gulf 
 of the capital; the multiplication of courtiers multiplies 
 intrigues, embarrasses and wearies the ministers, occasions 
 absurd claims, and adds to the expenditure of the royal 
 treasury, — not to speak of exemptions of all kinds, ranks, 
 distinctions, and favours bestowed. 
 
 It will be seen by what I have said how much the great 
 seigneurs of to-day differ from those of former times. With 
 less influence and wealth than in the days of Louis XIII. 
 and Henri IV., they have also less dignity and less appear- 
 ance than they had under Louis XIV. ; their expenditures 
 are underhand ; they love money, and do not blush to ask 
 for it, and sometimes to take it; the employment they 
 generally make of it cannot serve as an excuse for the 
 disorder of their affairs. They have vanity, but no real 
 dignity. Nothing is so rare as to find characters at Court 
 in the present day ; no one rises above his fellows ; they all 
 appear to be of one height. People have never been able 
 
1735-1744] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 149 
 
 to rely on friendship at Court, but they could always rely 
 on hatred; to-day friends are as fickle and faithless as 
 formerly, but enemies are no longer irreconcilable ; relations 
 change from day to day. It is very easy for the king to be 
 master of such a Court; the trouble of it falls upon the 
 ministers ; they are obliged to become courtiers themselves, 
 in order to decipher iatrigues and not allow the game to be 
 taken out of their hands by these sudden transformations 
 of partners. 
 
 It must be admitted that the great seigneurs are less 
 ignorant to-day than they were in the good old times. It is 
 not rare in these days to find good writers among persons of 
 rank ; but it must also be said that formerly better generals 
 and abler ministers were found among those old seigneurs, 
 many of whom scarcely knew how to read and write ; it is 
 not books that make great men, it is public affairs, loftiness 
 of soul, and Honour. 
 
150 MEMOIES AND LETTERS OF [chap. hi. 
 
 III. 
 
 1745-1751. — The year 1745. — The campaign of Fontenoy. — A few 
 important events. — The year 1748. — The state of affairs from the 
 peace of Aix-la-Chapelle to 1751. — The ministers in office till 1751. — 
 My situation in 1751. — A conversation with M. de Puysieux. 
 
 This year is the period to wliich must be referred the ori- 
 gin and source of all the greatest events of my life and the 
 brilliant fortune that I have made ; if it were permissible to 
 -.believe that one has a star, I was certainly in a position then 
 to believe I had one. My youth was slipping away ; I had 
 neither an establishment nor revenues ; the door of benefices 
 was closed to me ; the career of Letters, which I had entered 
 more as an amateur than as a writer, could never become a 
 resource to me ; it had won me celebrity, and that was all I 
 could expect of it. In spite of my economy and the entire 
 sacrifice I had made of all the natural fancies of my age, I 
 owed twelve hundred francs. That sum was not considerable 
 ia itself, but of course it increased yearly. This prospect 
 alarmed me ; I saw with a sort of horror that I might die 
 without paying my debts ; my soul, on which the principles 
 of honour were stamped from childhood, suffered martyrdom. 
 No one is more sensitive than I ; master of my outward self, 
 I have never been master of the impression that the emo- 
 tions of my soul make upon my bodily machinery ; anxiety 
 consumed me ; it caused a terrible upsetting of my health ; 
 bile mingled with my blood, and I had a long and distressing 
 illness ; remedies were useless, because the cause of the 
 trouble was unknown to the doctors. 
 
1745-1751] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 151 
 
 One day, during my convalescence, as I entered my room 
 I saw a box on my bureau, carefully tied up and addressed 
 to myself. I opened it and foimd a note, in whicli were these 
 words : " Your situation is known ; you wish to pay your 
 debts ; you will find in this box twelve hundred francs ; the 
 sender wiU not be made known to you until you are iu a 
 position to return them." I attributed this noble act to a 
 hundred persons of my acquaintance who had never dreamed 
 of it. I did not learn until two years later that I owed the 
 homage of my gratitude to one of the most beautiful women of 
 the Court, whom I scarcely knew, and who had refused me 
 permission to visit her. It was, in fact, by mere chance that, 
 relating my history one day to the Princesse de Eohan-Cour- 
 cillon, I was illuminated, as it were, by a flash of light. 
 " Ah ! " I cried', " ah ! it was you, madame." She denied it ; 
 but I made her feel that it was not becoming in a gentleman 
 to be so long ignorant of the one to whom he owed an obliga- 
 tion. I have lost that friend, whose soul was as noble as her 
 face, which the women picked to pieces, though it had no 
 other defect than that of girlishness and too great sensibility. 
 A part of my family, and I myself owe to her memory an 
 eternal recollection and a changeless gratitude. 
 
 As soon as my affairs were in order I recovered my health, 
 and as if the combinations of misfortune were exhausted in 
 regard to me, there happened during this same winter an 
 event which opened to me the gates of fortune. 
 
 The Duchesse de Chateauroux was dead. The king, as we 
 know, returned to her after the Fribourg campaign. She had 
 exacted the ruin of her enemies, and also that the Count de 
 Maurepas, whom she regarded as the worst of them, should 
 himself announce to her that the king recalled her. She did 
 not long enpy her triumph ; that very day she was seized 
 with fever, and her ilhiess proved mortal. People did not 
 
152 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. hi. 
 
 fail to say that she was poisoned. It may have been so, but 
 I do not believe it. 
 
 The king was for a time in convulsions of the sharpest 
 grief ; but the affliction caused by love is violent rather than 
 lasting ; friendship alone is never consoled. The king was 
 young, covered with glory, governing the kingdom himself, 
 the handsomest of men, as he was the greatest of kings ; we 
 can easily see how the conquest of such a monarch would 
 excite emulation among women. Beauty, grace, youth, or 
 intelligence seemed to each a claim to aspire and to succeed ; 
 the crowd of female pretenders was immense. Nothing 
 could be more amusing than to see all those young heads, 
 each with a project for governing the State — for princes 
 need not delude themselves, their sceptre is more loved than 
 their person. I could not fail to be the friend of whatever 
 mistress the king might choose ; for I knew intimately all 
 those who had pretensions. 
 
 There was a ball at Versailles ia the winter of 1745, at 
 which all the beauties of the Court and city assembled. It 
 was a Judgment of Paris ; but whichever one was to get 
 the apple hoped also for the helm of State affairs. The king, 
 at the beginning of the ball, ogled much a young lady of my 
 acquaintance who had more brilliancy than beauty ; the posi- 
 tion of her parents, who were in finance, did not disgust the 
 king, who was weary of the intrigues and the ambition of the 
 Court women ; he hoped that a bourgeoise would think of 
 nothing but loving and being loved. He gave this young 
 girl rendezvous at a ball which was to take place a few 
 days later at the Hotel-de-Ville. Her parents, alarmed but 
 dazzled, consulted me as to what they should do ; I strength- 
 ened them in honour and virtue ; the young girl was not at 
 the ball. Very great seigneurs went to her house to persuade 
 the mothier ; it was all in vain ; the affair came to nought, and 
 
1745-1751] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 153 
 
 what does much honour to the girl in question is that she 
 knew I was the cause of this failure, and bore me no grudge 
 for it. 
 
 That same night the first outline of the affair of Mme. 
 d'Etioles, now Marquise de Pompadour, was sketched. This 
 intimacy increased day by day, but was not known to the 
 public untH some time later. Mme. d'Etioles had all the 
 graces, all the freshness, all the gaiety of youth ; she danced, 
 sang, and played comedy marvellously well ; no agreeable 
 talent was lacking in her. She loved Letters and the arts. 
 She had a lofty soul, sensible and generous. It is true that 
 to make a good use of the influence she was about to have, 
 she was deficient in knowledge of men and affairs. The 
 public were astonished at the preference the king gave her ; 
 they were ignorant that, after her marriage, he saw her 
 frequently when himting iu the forest of S^nart; that his 
 equerries were constantly at her house, and that Mme. de 
 Mailly had dreaded Mme. d'Etioles more than any other 
 woman. 
 
 The Comtesse d'Estrades was a connection by marriage 
 of Mme. d'Etioles ; I saw the latter very often at the house 
 of the Comtesse, who was one of my friends. Mme. d'fitioles' 
 mother, Mme. Poisson, had not the tone of society, but 
 she had intelligence, ambition, and courage. She and her 
 daughter had often pressed me to go to their house ; I had 
 constantly resisted because the company they received was 
 not what suited me. This refusal ought to have injured me 
 with them. One day I received a note from the Comtesse 
 d'Estrades asking me to go to her; I went. She told me 
 that Mme. d'Etioles was the king's mistress ; that, in spite 
 of my refusals, she desired to find a friend in me, and that 
 the king approved of it. I was asked to supper at Mme. 
 d']lltioles' one week later to settle the agreement. I ex- 
 

 
 
 
 
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1745-1751] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 155 
 
 modesty came to him with his glory. I remember that 
 some of his friends and I did all we could to make him 
 talk of his campaigns in Flanders during a rather long 
 supper ; we could not get a word from him except this : 
 "I made many blunders." It is a pity that so great a 
 warrior gave himself up to love, debauchery, and bad com- 
 pany ; it may truly be said that opera-girls deprived France 
 of a support most necessary to her. Mardchal de Saxe liked 
 bad company less from taste than from haughtiness; son 
 of a king [Augustus the Strong of Poland], he preferred 
 to live with sycophants, avoiding his own equals. His 
 " Eeveries " will seem a work of little importance to common 
 minds, but those who have military genius will find many 
 sublime ideas in it. The greatest gift that God can make 
 to a monarchy is that of an able general ; the mistakes of 
 ministers are reparable, those of a general usually are not ; 
 the safety and glory of a nation are absolutely in his 
 hands. 
 
 I was often at fitioles during the summer of 1745. With 
 the exception of the Due de Gontaut, who stayed there 
 several days, I was the only man of society with whom 
 Mme. de Pompadour could have any intercourse. I went 
 weekly to Paris ; and there I did justice, without exaggera- 
 tion, to her sentiments and intentions. I advised her to 
 protect men of letters ; it was they who had given the name 
 of Great to Louis XIV. I had no advice to give her as to 
 seeking and cherishing honest men ; I found that principle 
 established in her soul. I did not then discover in that 
 soul any other defect than a self-love too easy to flatter or 
 wound, and a too general distrust as readUy excited as 
 calmed. In spite of this discovery, I resolved to always 
 tell her the truth without any precaution; I have often 
 risked displeasing her by this frankness and firmness ; but 
 
156 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. iu. 
 
 a true friend can play no other part. I ought to say to 
 her praise that for twelve years she preferred my truths, 
 sometimes harsh, to the flatteries of others. When she was 
 presented at Court it was agreed between us that I should 
 see her weekly for an hour or two in private. This was 
 done for a month ; but I soon saw that I excited the envy 
 and xineasiness of the whole Court. I found the position 
 too delicate; and I arranged with her that I should only 
 see her with others, but that I should write to her on all 
 that concerned the highest glory of the king, and the happi- 
 ness of honest people. When I examine my own conscience, 
 I find not the smallest reproach to make to myself during 
 all the time this intimacy lasted ; the temptations of favour, 
 which are so dangerous, never made me deviate from prin- 
 ciples of justice and probity. 
 
 The Court and the public were astonished to see the wife 
 of a farmer-general, still living, presented to the queen 
 under the title of the Marquise de Pompadour. After 
 a time the Court and public accustomed themselves to see 
 the same person lady of the palace of the queen, and seated 
 in her Majesty's presence. In France the king is master of 
 not only the property and lives of his subjects, but of their 
 minds also. What power! and how easy it would be to 
 turn it to great advantage! 
 
 In spite of my great favour, all I obtained at the beginning 
 of 1746 was a lodging in the Louvre and a pension of fifteen 
 hundred francs on the privy purse. This meagre condition 
 continued till 1751, and the reason was this : I have never 
 been grasping ; I sweated blood when I had to tell of my 
 affairs. Mme. de Pompadour had obtained many favours 
 from the king, to which the ministers always put obstacles. 
 I avoided embittering the favourite against them; so the 
 obstacles prevailed: in a word, the Court would not lend 
 
1745-1751] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 157 
 
 itself to my elevation, and I did not seek then to make 
 a distinguislied fortune. 
 
 My situation at Court was very singular up to 1751 ; I 
 was placed between favour and fortune, able to dispose of 
 the one but never attaining the other ; I influenced consider- 
 able events, I had part in many benefits obtained for others, 
 but for myself I could not procure even a moderate com- 
 petence. I had limited my wants to eighteen thousand 
 francs a year. I could have got that, and more too, if I had 
 been willing to mix myself in what are called "affairs." 
 But I have always regarded them with contempt and horror, 
 in spite of the force of repeated examples. To receive 
 money in return for obtaining an office for some one is, in 
 the first place, selling our services ; in the next, it is deceiv- 
 ing the sovereign by presenting to him a person who may 
 often have no other merit than that of having bought my 
 influence. It was not that I did not know the instability 
 of all things human ; I knew very well that Cardinal Ma- 
 zarin and many others had maintained themselves only 
 by thus putting under cover considerable sums ; but honour 
 silenced aU such reflections. I kept to the same way 
 of thinking, and still more scrupulously when I became 
 minister. 
 
 The king, whom I saw every day at Mme. de Pompadour's, 
 never brought himself to speak to me for three years, so 
 great is the shyness of this prince towards persons to whom 
 he is not used ; especially if those persons have the reputa- 
 tion of being clever men. As soon as the king had con- 
 quered himself as far as to say a word to me he had no 
 longer any embarrassment ; he even gave me a great mark 
 of favour by taking me with him to the little entertainments 
 in the cabinets, where, at first, only a very few courtiers 
 were admitted. The King, by placing me in his own bos, 
 
158 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OP [chap. hi. 
 
 wished to show that he was informed of my birth. These 
 theatricals soon became public, with more constraint to the 
 king and much less decency. 
 
 The favour which I enjoyed, being useful only to others, 
 made me fewer enemies than if it had been profitable to 
 myself, but it ezcited the attention of the Court and the ill- 
 will of the ministers. My friendship for Mme. de Pompa- 
 dour fixed me to a plan that was very dangerous. In order 
 not to give her umbrage, I resolved to be attached only to 
 the king, who was my master, and to depend for my ad- 
 vancement only on her, who was my friend. I followed 
 this system steadily, and I never regretted it, because it was 
 honourable. But my attachment to the favourite never had 
 an air of baseness or slavery ; I always told her the truth, 
 and I never sacrificed a friend to her ; though I had several 
 who might have displeased her. It was difficult for conduct 
 so unusual to avoid annoyances and storms. If I had been 
 ambitious I might have been more adroit; as it was, I 
 wished to be only a friend and philosopher. 
 
 Two remarkable events followed the peace of Aix-la- 
 Chapelle : one was the arrest in broad dajdight of Prince 
 Edward Stuart, who was bound and pinioned like a common 
 criminal. No event ever so vexed me for the king's sake. 
 The Pretender was iaexcusable for wanting to lay down the 
 law to France ; he deserved to be arrested ; but it ought to 
 have been done at night, with the consideration due to his 
 rank, and, above all, to his misfortunes. Those who advised 
 the king on this occasion forgot to remind him that Prince 
 Edward was a grandson of Henri IV. and that the French 
 throne has ever been the support and shelter of unfortunate 
 princes. 
 
 Another event which made much noise at Court was the 
 disgrace of M. de Maurepas. The sudden death of Mme. 
 
1745-1751] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 159 
 
 de CMteauroux had saved him from exile ; but the risk he 
 had run then did not prevent him from being on equally 
 bad terms with Mme. de Pompadour. His system was, not 
 to depend in any way on the favourites ; a laudable system 
 in itself, provided it did not fail in respect to the king by 
 attacking what he loved. The Court thought it saw a 
 coolness on the part of the king for Mme. de Pompadour, 
 and a secret cabal went to work to briug back Mme. de 
 Mailly, who was playing the part of the repentant Magdalen 
 in Paris. They hoped that the king, who was used to her, 
 would also get used to her piety. To strengthen this pious 
 intrigue Paris was inundated with satirical songs against 
 Mme. de Pompadour. The conspirators hoped to humiliate 
 the king's self-love in that way, for he himself was inso- 
 lently attacked in these lampoons. They grossly deceived 
 themselves. The king was more indignant at the contempt 
 cast upon his choice than upon the personal insults to him- 
 self. M. de Maurepas, having charge of the department of 
 Paris and the Court, was accused of not having duly sought 
 for the authors and disseminators of these infamies. 
 
 He was exiled, and the king's Council lost an enlightened 
 minister and one belter informed than many others on the 
 laws and regulations of the kingdom. 
 
 The Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle (October 18, 1748) put an 
 end to the conquests of Mar^chal de Saxe and to the glory 
 of our arms ; it left in existence our differences with England, 
 and it winked at the establishment of the Spanish princes in 
 Italy. Hence this treaty gave occasion for two almost cer- 
 tain wars ; one with England, the other in Italy on the death 
 of King Ferdinand of Spain. Our alliance with the Court 
 of Vienna saved us from that second war, which would 
 have become general. Few persons in France perceived this 
 good effect of the Treaty of Versailles, but, with Frenchmen, 
 
160 MEMOIRS AKD LETTEES OP [chap. hi. 
 
 the mind does not readily seize the connection of political 
 ideas. 
 
 The Comte de Saint-Severin negotiated the Peace of Aix- 
 la-Chapelle. As a reward he was made minister of State 
 He was, as Voltaire somewhere calls him, " the most inefficient 
 inefficiency " among the ministers. 
 
 As I fomid that favour gave me nothing hut consideration 
 and a pleasant life, but did not procure me suitable establish- 
 ment, I judged it best to leave my Chapter of Brioude and 
 enter that of Lyon. It was an honourable pis-aller, which 
 I kept to fall back upon in case fortune should continue to 
 be against me ; I was connecting myself with an illustrious 
 body in the Church of France and securing a retreat for my 
 old age. I busied myself therefore in collecting the title- 
 deeds necessary to prove sixteen quartertngs, which the 
 Chapter of Lyon requires before appointing to a vacancy. 
 This precaution is very wise ; it saves the Chapter from being 
 sued by those whose proofs may be rejected, and who would 
 not fail to appeal to Parliament to get them admitted. 
 
 My proofs were presented to the Chapter on All-Saints' 
 day of the year 1748, and received by the Chapter on Saint- 
 John's day of the following year. The proofs of my geneal- 
 ogy went back, by an almost unexampled distinction, to the 
 year 1116 ; which will some day be a fine title for my 
 family. The king has granted a decoration to the Comtes 
 de Lyon ; it consists of an enamelled cross on a red ribbon 
 edged with blue ; the two colours recalling the military 
 nobility and the nobles, distinguished by the colour of the 
 Orders of Saint-Louis and the Saint-Esprit. When Cardinal 
 de Tencia saw me wearing the Lyon cross, he declared that 
 I should soon be an ambassador ; he was not far wrong. 
 
 As soon as I was a member of the Lyon Chapter I re- 
 nounced frequenting theatres both at Court and in Paris ; 
 
1745-1751] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 161 
 
 this sacrifice cost me much. I made another which seemed 
 to me less painful : I abandoned the frivolous style of poetry. 
 History, politics, and morals became my only occupations ; I 
 wished to accustom the public by degrees to regard me as 
 a man of serious mind fit for public affairs. I have all my 
 life had the talent of transitions, which to be good should 
 be gradual. 
 
 I have made myself a law in speaktug of the affairs of State 
 never to allow the secrets of government, whether in regard 
 to politics or to finances, to transpire ; ia spite of the wisest 
 precautions, all that is written may be made public or pass 
 into questionable hands. Consequently, I shall speak only 
 of affairs in general, without disclosing the secret bond that 
 connects them, and without giving a precise idea of the state 
 of our resources and our debts. No minister was ever more 
 enabled than I to give an exact picture of our situation, but 
 I shall not forget the oath which I took to the king. These 
 Memoirs will be less interestiag ; but it must be remembered 
 that I write them only for my own amusement and the in- 
 formation of my nephews.^ 
 
 The Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle had procured for the king no 
 other advantage than that of showiug his moderation to Eu- 
 rope, and of relieving him from the prejudice, established in 
 the days of Louis XIV., of an agressive ambition, which France 
 can well do without if she is properly governed, and of which 
 she cannot fulfil the object when her government is feeble 
 or vicious. 
 
 The king, having kept none of his conquests, and hav- 
 ing failed in the object which Mar^chal de Belleisle was ex- 
 
 1 Bernis' descendants regarded his wishes so faithfully in this respect 
 that it was nearly 120 years before they were published or generally 
 known. They end in the year 1758 and were first published, as already 
 stated, in 1878.— Tb. 
 
 VOL. I. — 11 
 
162 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. hi. 
 
 pected to carry out, namely, the weakening of the House 
 of Austria and the transfer of the Empire to another family, 
 had, of course, to expect a new war as soon as the belliger- 
 ents recovered breath. But France needed a long peace ; it 
 was necessary, therefore, on the one hand, that the wisdom 
 and foresight of the Council should carefully endeavour to 
 end our differences with England and ward off all that might 
 increase them; on the other, that, as we were not certain 
 of ending the settlement of our boundaries, we should pro- 
 vide far in advance for our colonies, make their defensive 
 easier and more formidable, rectify and simplify their ad- 
 ministration, and, above all, confide it only to pure hands 
 incapable of rapiae. The whole attention of the government, 
 in the uncertainty in which we were as to the duration of 
 peace, ought to have been given priDcipally to the mainten- 
 ance, the increase, and the good admiaistration of the navy. 
 
 As it is incontestable that a marine war with a great power 
 leads, in six months or a year later, to a continental war, it 
 was essential, 1st, to seek, after the deaths of the Mar^chal 
 de Saxe and Mardchal Lowendahl, for two generals capable 
 of commanding our armies ; because, in spite of French van- 
 ity, if the nation does not furnish great warriors the safety 
 and glory of the State require that they be sought elsewhere ; 
 2d, it was equally necessary to form a good militia, and 
 make sure of the good government of the soldier by the good 
 conduct and capacity of the officer ; 3d, it was necessary to - 
 replenish our arsenals, supply our fortresses, and repair their 
 fortifications ; 4th (and most important point of all), it was 
 essential to bring order into our finances and prepare, in 
 advance, secure resources in case of war, to enable us to 
 sustain it the necessary time and not be forced to a disad- 
 vantageous peace by the imperious law of a last crown in 
 the treasury ; 5th, it was plainly wisdom, in view of foreign 
 
45-1751] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 163 
 
 ar, to appease the intestinal wars of religion, to prevent the 
 70 bodies of the clergy and magistracy from clashing, and 
 lat parliament should be stopped from making a species of 
 3ague, injurious to the authority of the king and to the 
 iblic opinion of his power and his administration ; 6th, and 
 lally, it was the part of prudence to better consolidate the 
 ilitical system of the king, and not allow it to depend so ab- 
 lutely on the fidelity or infidelity of the King of Prussia. 
 In saying what ought to have been done after the Peace of 
 bc-la-Chapelle, one is stating precisely what was not done, 
 le negotiation with England was badly conducted ; it was 
 pposed that that power neither would nor could go to war. 
 'e were in a position to make her some little sacrifices in 
 der to establish a solid peace of which France and its com- 
 erce had need ; instead of that we committed little acts of 
 )stility against the English in America ; we put up forts 
 here they could only create jealousy ; we sent much money 
 r the proper defence of our colonies, which was ill-employed 
 id wasted ; the navy was badly administered ; we searched 
 T no generals; we enervated the militia by multiplying 
 •ades ; our fortresses and arsenals were neglected ; instead 
 : paying our debts, we increased them in a time of peace ; 
 16 burden on the people has not been relieved according to 
 leir needs ; we have allowed religious quarrels to be revived 
 ithout an effort to smother at its birth the fermentation of 
 16 clergy and the parliaments ; while distrusting the King 
 f Prussia we rested tranquilly on the faith of his alliance 
 -in a word, we have conducted ourselves ill, and we 
 ught to impute to our own faults all the misfortunes of the 
 •resent war and the embarrassments in which we find our- 
 elves. After giving this picture, it is essential that I should 
 nake known the ministers who at that time composed the 
 ting's CounciL 
 
164 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. hi. 
 
 The chancellor was M. de Lamoignon, whose name is 
 illustrious in the magistracy, but who could not replace M. 
 d'Aguesseau either for ideas or knowledge. He is a very- 
 honest man, but the post of chief of law and justice demands 
 superior talents. The king having asked the chancellor one 
 day from what point he had seen the fireworks given at Ver- 
 sailles on the birth of the Due de Bourgogne, the Due d'Ayen 
 forestalled the chancellor's answer by saying, "From his 
 dining-room, sire," — M. de Lamoignon haviug gone into his 
 hay-loft to see the sight. When it is permissible to make such 
 jokes as that on the head of law and justice, what authority 
 can he have over the magistracy ? 
 
 The Marquis de Puysieux had the department of Foreign 
 Affairs after the dismissal of the Marquis d'Argenson, 
 surnamed the Stupid [le Betel to distinguish him from his 
 brother, Comte d'Argenson. M. de Puysieux has a wise and 
 just mind ; he speaks nobly and with dignity ; his principles 
 and his acts are honest; he knows his master well, and 
 knows how to conduct himself at Court and in public ; but 
 one feels the difference there is between an adroit and vir- 
 tuous courtier and an able minister, — between an upright 
 mind and a broad one. 
 
 The Comte d'Argenson was charged with the war depart- 
 ment. On entering of&ce he had created, so to speak, the 
 king's armies. I have known few men who had more ideas 
 in their minds than he ; but by dint of multiplying the supe- 
 rior grades in the army he extinguished emulation, and 
 gave birth, in subalterns, to misplaced ambition. His 
 quarrels with M. de Machault were very pernicious to the 
 king's affairs, and his rupture with Mme. de Pompadour 
 finally deprived the State of an enlightened minister. 
 
 M. de Machault, successively controller-general, minister 
 of the marine, and Keeper of the Seals, had at that time only 
 
1745-1751] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 165 
 
 the finance department. He was beginning to show the 
 despotism of his mind, and he hid beneath a cold exterior 
 and a grave countenance the little depth of his knowledge, 
 which was veiled by the prestige of a rather penetrating 
 mind and a laconic language that was clear and precise. In 
 trying to destroy the privileges of the clergy he unmasked 
 too soon his real design of suppressing all privileges ; from 
 that time he aimed for the post of Keeper of the Seals. The 
 chief president [of parliament], M. Maupeou, also had views 
 for that place. The Court had flattered his hopes, and he 
 restrained parliament just so long as he believed those hopes 
 well-founded. M. de Machault, after having displeased 
 Mme. de Pompadour, found the secret, not of pleasing her, 
 but of governing her in State affairs. 
 
 M. EouilM had succeeded the Comte de Maurepas as min- 
 ister of the marine, but he did not replace him in either 
 knowledge or capacity; without intending to be governed 
 by his subordinates, he was so, despotically, for the simple 
 reason that where one is not well-informed one must rely on 
 others. 
 
 Besides these departments the king had as ministers of the 
 State : Cardinal de Tencin, who soon retired to his diocese, 
 and did well ; the Mar^chal de Noailles, a man of much in- 
 telligence, writing well and having much information, but 
 more of a courtier than a statesman ; the Comte de Saint- 
 Severin, whose greatest merit was to have persuaded M. de 
 Puysieux that he was a great man, descended lq direct line 
 from the kings of Aragon; the bishop of Mirepoix, who 
 ruled the affairs of the Church with the harshness and des- 
 potism of a monk ; he had placed in the see of Paris M. de 
 Beaumont, cherished in Vienne, adored at Bayonne, fitted 
 to occupy those two places, but not to fill a post of such im- 
 portance as the archbishopric of Paris. 
 
166 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. hi. 
 
 Thougli the Prince de Conti was not in the Council, he 
 worked with the king on matters of importance, more foreign 
 than internal.' He is a prince of much intelligence and 
 knowledge, but, unless the king admits into the Council a 
 prince of the blood, it would be wiser to keep him aloof 
 from great affairs. He has quarrelled with Mme. de Pompa- 
 dour. All these quarrels of the king's mistress with the 
 ministers have been the source, or the occasion, of great 
 troubles and misfortunes to the kingdom. 
 
 I was too well-informed as to public affairs not to fear 
 to embark upon them ; on the one hand, I should have been 
 glad to be useful to the State, and to make myself an 
 honourable reputation ; on the other, 1 foresaw the confusion 
 into which the evils of the coming wars would almost in- 
 fallibly cast the country. Moreover, I knew my own nature ; 
 I foresaw that I should be too sensitive to the evils of the 
 State as soon as I was charged with some administration ; 
 that, jealous of my honour and reputation as well as the 
 glory of my master, I should make every effort to re-establish 
 order, regardless of the enemies so firm a course would give 
 me; from that I foresaw dismissal and exile if circum- 
 stances called me to the ministry. All these reflections 
 attached me more and more to the free and philosophical 
 life that I was leading ; but I was thirty-six years old, I had 
 no career, and a numerous family depended on my making a 
 fortune to supply the deficiencies of theirs. This last con- 
 sideration was stronger than my repugnances. 
 
 A step which I took at this time ended my irresolution. 
 There had been some question for me of a place as coun- 
 
 1 Louis-Franpois de Bourbon, great-nephew of the Great Cond^; his 
 grandmother was Anne Martinozzi, Mazarin's niece ; he managed 
 the secret correspondence of Louis XV. with French agents in the 
 north of Europe, one object of which was to put him on the throne of 
 Poland. — Te. 
 
1745-1751] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 167 
 
 cillor of State on Chuich Affairs, which I should have 
 obtained if the dauphin had not asked for it for the Abb^ 
 de Marbeuf, one of his tutors. I wrote to Mme. de Pompa- 
 dour to ask for the next place of the kind that fell vacant. 
 She answered that the king would willingly give it to me 
 if I served him in his negotiations; but that his Majesty 
 was surprised that I had made no effort to enter that career, 
 for which both he and his ministers thought me fitted. The 
 Marquis de Paulmy [son of the Marquis d'Argenson] hav- 
 ing been associated with his uncle in the ministry of war, 
 the embassy to Switzerland was vacant. I applied for it, 
 but it was given to M. de Chavigny in reward for his long 
 services ; that of Venice was promised me, with an order to 
 keep the matter secret. 
 
 Meantime M. de Puysieux resigned the ministry of 
 Foreign Affairs. He would have liked the king to choose 
 M. de Saint-Severiu to succeed him, but his Majesty, 
 influenced by M. de Machault and the Mar^chal de NoaiUes, 
 preferred M. de Saint-Contest, who, to speak frankly, brought 
 no other qualifications for so great an ofG.ce than that of 
 being the son of a minister plenipotentiary at the Congress 
 of Eastadt, and of having read the newspapers assiduously 
 for thirty years. This new minister was not one of my 
 friends : first, because his mind and mine were not of the same 
 stuff ; second, because his creator, M. de Machault, had never 
 liked me. Thus it came about that I was treated rather 
 shabbily in meeting the immense costs of my outfit ; so that 
 I began my diplomatic career by being forced to borrow 
 eighty thousand francs, with the annoyance of passing in 
 public for a well-treated favourite. 
 
 As soon as I had made up my mind to enter upon a public 
 career I renounced all pleasures, all amusements, and all 
 tastes which did not conform to it ; I informed myself funda- 
 
168 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. hi. 
 
 mentally on whatever might help me to some superiority ; 
 and I accustomed myself henceforth to adopt the tone and 
 manners of foreigners ; through the flexibility of my nature, 
 I soon had the tone of the foreign ministers then in Paris. 
 
 I formed a plan at this time for twenty years, which I 
 desired to devote to the service of the king in foreign Courts ; 
 all places at our own Court were excluded from this plan ; 
 and my final prospect was — after serving the State, being 
 useful to my family, and acquiring reputation for myself — 
 to spend the remainder of my days far from the great world 
 and from public affairs, in the enjoyment of my life and of 
 friends. Circumstances which it was impossible to foresee 
 subsequently upset a plan so wise, and so in harmony with 
 my inclinations. 
 
 Up to the moment when I was appointed to the embassy 
 of Venice, I had passed in the world for an honest, agree- 
 able man, having many talents, but too lazy to employ them 
 usefully, and too devoid of ambition ever to mate my way. 
 I warned my intimate friends that as soon as I was an 
 ambassador I should have a totally different reputation in 
 society ; I should be supposed to have vast ambition, and 
 the art to have known how to conceal it for seventeen years 
 under a mask of careless indifference. I was not mistaken. 
 My embassy was announced the last of October, 1751 ; I 
 thanked the king the next day, and as I left his cabinet a 
 courtier said to me with a sly air, " Your Excellency, I 
 offer my congratulations to your Eminence ; " and a few steps 
 farther on, another courtier said with a rather sour smile, 
 " Monsieur I'abb^, the file grates [Za lime sourdel'' A week 
 later the news ran through Paris that my embassy to Venice 
 would not last long, as I should soon be recalled, to the post 
 of tutor to the Due de Bourgogne ; I was supposed to have 
 that aim, and they doubtless imagined that by unmasking it 
 
1745-1751] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 169 
 
 they could make me miss it. From that moment I lost the 
 flattering illusion of having many friends ; I discovered that, 
 on the contrary, there were many who envied me. 
 
 I ought to remark here that during ten years of favour aU 
 I had obtained was fifteen hundred francs a year, to which I 
 limited my ambition. Therefore it was proved to me that 
 I could not make a medium fortune, for as soon as I took 
 the resolution to rise to a great one, embassies were flimg 
 at my head. Did that mean that Providence destined me 
 for great things ? The end alone can clear up this doubt. 
 
 I think I ought to relate here a conversation which I had 
 at Fontainebleau with M. de Puysieux, who, although he 
 had resigned the ministry of Foreign Affairs, still preserved 
 a portion of the king's confidence in regard to them. This 
 conversation will show better than anything else what the 
 spirit was that guided my conduct at Court. 
 
 It was rather extraordinary that I had been appointed to 
 an embassy without ever having spoken to the minister of 
 Foreign Affairs, or ever paying him a visit. I did not wish 
 this singularity to make a bad impression on M. de Puy- 
 sieux' mind, because I respected him. Accordingly, after 
 the first compliments, I told him that I had come to make 
 my general confession, and I was too jealous of his esteem 
 to let htm think I had neglected to fulfil a duty I owed to 
 him, or that I was impertinent, or a man of the other class. 
 
 " It is true," he replied, " that you have had the air of 
 saying, ' Messieurs, I wish to be an ambassador, and I shaU 
 be one without your meddling in it.' " This answer made me 
 laugh, and I at once began my justification and told him my 
 history ever since my arrival in Paris. I made him take 
 notice of the honesty and courage of my conduct ; I justified 
 the frivolous works of my youth by showing that I held 
 them at their just value ; but I made him agree that without 
 
170 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. hi. 
 
 them I should never have acquired the reputation for intel- 
 lect which put me in the way of heing chosen for great 
 places. I made him see the close connection there had 
 always been between my ideas and my actual plan of con- 
 duct, and that in leading the life of a man of society I had 
 reflected much and had studied the heart and the passions 
 of men. 
 
 I made him remark how modestly I had used my favour ; 
 how my attachments had been free from baseness and 
 flattery ; and to what a point I had been disiaterested. As 
 all I said was sustained by facts well-known to M. de 
 Puysieux, I saw that my argument made an impression, 
 and brought the minister suddenly to the delicate point 
 which touched himself. I then employed to win him the 
 only art I know — that of truth. I said to him : — 
 
 " You win not accuse me of being ignorant that, wishing 
 to be an ambassador, my first step ought to have been to ask 
 for your consent; neither will you suspect me of having 
 neglected that act of propriety and obligation from misplaced 
 arrogance. I shall therefore tell you the secret of it: I 
 wanted to be an ambassador, and I never should have been 
 one had I set foot in your house. You can readily see that 
 as soon as I appeared there all the Court would have said, 
 'It is now clear enough; he is aiming for the Foreign 
 Affairs.' From that instant all who had the same aim, 
 the friends of the Court and of some of the ministers, would 
 have persuaded Mme. de Pompadour that it was breaking 
 my neck to let me be appointed an ambassador before my 
 fortune was made ; that I should have to begin by running 
 in debt; that the Bishop of Mirepoix would still refuse 
 me an abbey, or if he gave it, its revenues would go to the 
 payment of my debts ; therefore that the true way to help 
 me was to conquer the obstinacy of the Bishop of Mirepoix, 
 
1745-1751] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 171 
 
 and induce the king to give me some other favour which 
 would put me in the way to serve him and not ruia myself. 
 This apparently friendly language would have made an im- 
 pression on the mind of my friend ; and if it did not change 
 her intentions it would certainly have retarded the result.'' 
 (M. de Puysieuz agreed to that.) " "WeU, then," I said, " by 
 taking the course of not seeiag you, and being scarcely 
 known to you, I calculated that I should infallibly become 
 an ambassador." 
 
 M. de Puysieux began to laugh; he embraced me and 
 said : " I now think that you are worthy to be one. I vsdll 
 return you confidence for confidence ; I shall not conceal that 
 I did all that depended on me to prevent the king from 
 choosing you for his ambassador. I could not tell him you 
 were a scoundrel, because every one avers you are an honest 
 man ; or that you are not a gentleman, because it is proved 
 that you come of an ancient race ; nor could I say that you 
 were a fool, because everybody says you have intellect ; but 
 I made him fear that your intellect would turn to the side 
 of imagination and away from that of good sense. He 
 wanted to send you to Poland ; I insisted on the danger of 
 intrusting you with so delicate a mission, and I consented 
 finally, but with difficulty, to the Venetian embassy, because 
 if you committed follies there they would not be important." 
 
 This frankness on the part of M. de Puysieux touched me 
 to the bottom of my heart. I asked him for his friendship 
 and promised him mine. He soon gave me, as I shall tell 
 hereafter, flattering marks of his esteem ; and I have been 
 fortunate enough in my turn to prove to him mine. 
 
 It was in the same frank and open manner that I gradually 
 won, if not the friendship, at least the esteem of all the min- 
 isters of the king before I started for Venice. 
 
172 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. iv. 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 IV. 
 
 1752-1755. — That which preceded my Departure for Venice. — My Ddbut 
 there. — The foreign Ministers resident in Venice. — Affairs which I 
 negotiated during my Embassy. — Some interesting Particulars. — 
 Journey to Parma early in 1755. — Return to Paris in June, 1755. — 
 State of the Court and Country in 1755. 
 
 I HAD changed my condition, I now changed my life ; my 
 mind, which, in my days of idleness, had busied itself solely 
 in works of pure charm, now applied itself solely to public 
 affairs. My conversion in this respect has been so sincere 
 that I have lost the taste and talent that I once had for poetry. 
 It was only by accident, to conjure away my griefs or my 
 weariness, that I had given such career to my imagination ; 
 serious things were of a nature that best suited the character 
 of my own miad ; therefore, on entering upon the duties of 
 public life I was not, as they say, all abroad. The study 
 that I had made of the government of Venice, of the manners 
 and spirit of that republic, put into my mind such clear ideas 
 on the subject that I did not have many corrections to make 
 later. They sent me to Venice as into a cul de sac of little 
 interest, but I resolved to make my despatches more interest- 
 ing than those of the king's ministers in the chief Courts of 
 Europe, and to find the art and the means of soon acquiring 
 the reputation of a meritorious ambassador. It will be seen 
 that I did not disappoint my own hopes. 
 
 I left the Court in the agitation of a most complicated 
 intrigue. Clear-sighted persons thought they saw a diminu- 
 
1752-1755] CAEDINAL DE BERNIS. 173 
 
 tion in the favour of Mme. de Pompadour ; they suspected 
 that the king had a fancy for Mme. de Choiseul, a little 
 serpent whom the marquise had warmed in her bosom. I 
 could not count securely on any of the king's ministers. M. 
 de Puysieux had known me so recently, and M. d'Argenson, 
 towards whom, in spite of his quarrel with Mme. de Pompa- 
 dour, I had always shown the most honourable and courageous 
 conduct, had very weak regard for me, which was not likely 
 to resist long the iufluence of his mistress, Mme. d'Estrades, 
 who had ceased to like me when I could not be induced to 
 abandon, like herself, Mme. de Pompadour. If I had been 
 less honourable I might have had the support of the Prince 
 de Conti, who wished to attach me to him and to have me 
 appointed to the embassy to Poland in order to execute there 
 a scheme known only to himself, the king, and M. d'Argenson, 
 which was revealed to me. But the Prince de Conti was 
 the declared enemy of Mme. de Pompadour, and that was 
 enough to deprive me of hia useful protection, which might, 
 according to circumstances, become necessary to me. 
 
 I may add to this the aversion M. de Saint-Contest 
 showed to me. He tried to treat me superciliously, but I 
 did not allow it, and, although I was dependent on him, 
 I spoke to him firmly, knowing well that inferior ministers 
 are more rancorous than superior ones. Moreover, I left 
 beside Mme. de Pompadour M. de Machault, in whom at 
 that time she had the utmost confidence, and who could 
 not endure me. The kiug had promised me the first vacant 
 place of Councillor of State for Church affairs, but the 
 promise might be forgotten. The Bishop of Mirepoix, des- 
 potic distributor of benefices, was against me ; I had bor- 
 rowed, eighty thousand francs, and I had no property to 
 cover that sum. The present was disquieting, the future 
 alarming. 
 
174 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. iv. 
 
 Under these circumstances my friends wanted me to 
 remain at Court, enjoy the salary of my embassy, and wait 
 to see if Mme. de Pompadour succumbed or triumphed. 
 The advice seemed wise, but my opinion was different. I 
 was resolved to make my way by my own work and the 
 development of my talents. I saw in this course another 
 advantage, that of allaying the jealousies I was beginning to 
 excite at Court. No one would fear me iu Venice; the 
 worst that could happen to me would be to be forgotten; 
 therefore I urged my departure with as much eagerness as 
 other ambassadors show in delaying theirs. Mine was fixed 
 for August, 1752. 
 
 The quarrel of the Archbishop of Paris with the parlia- 
 ment was beginning to grow heated ; I foresaw the results 
 with a precision that surprises me now that I look back 
 upon it. I wrote a memorial containing the principles of 
 conduct which the king ought to maintaixi under the cir- 
 cumstances ; in it I foretold the disasters which would 
 infallibly arrive if these principles were abandoned. Shall 
 I say it? I foretold in 1752 that spirit of fanaticism 
 which had produced so many dangerous attempts during the 
 reigns of Henri III. and Henri IV. ; in 1757 my prediction 
 proved but too true. I communicated this paper to M. de 
 Puysieux, who was struck by it. He took a copy, and 
 sent it to the king without a word to me, but he cut out 
 the passage relating to horrors already produced and about 
 to be produced again by fanaticism. He accompanied the 
 memorial with a letter in which he sung my praises and 
 assured the king that I should be one of his best minis- 
 ters ; that my memorial contained the true principles ; that 
 the king would do well to keep it always in his portfolio 
 and under his eye ; and finally that it was without my 
 knowledge that it was sent, and he asked the same secrecy 
 
1752-1755] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 175 
 
 from the king. His Majesty kept it faithfully, and never 
 said a word of it to me. 
 
 I took leave of his Majesty in the month of August, and 
 went to Lyon to the house of Cardinal de Tencin, where I 
 met the Mar^chal de Belleisle, with whom I made fuller 
 acquaintance. Cardinal de Tencin, who had taken me in great 
 affection since seeing me on the road to fortune, offered me 
 two hundred thousand francs when I left him for my em- 
 bassy, using these remarkable words: "In the career on 
 which you are entering, remember that talent does not suf- 
 fice to do everything." On my return from my embassy he 
 wished to make me his coadjutor in the archbishopric of 
 LyoiL I did not yield to any of his offers, but I am not 
 sorry to record the recollection of them. It is to be remarked 
 that this cardinal, who had been the scourge of the Jansen- 
 ists when Abbd de Tencin and Archbishop of Embrun, ceased 
 to persecute them towards the end of his life. 
 
 I may say here that if I had been willing to accept all the 
 offers made to me at this time I could have carried with me 
 to Venice a million in ready money. And what is very sin- 
 gular is that when I was minister and secretary of State, en- 
 joying the favour of my master, no one ever offered me money. 
 Was this because men expect more of a man who is begin- 
 ning to make his fortune than of a man who has made it ? 
 The first can only rise, the second can only fall. 
 
 I had been announced in Venice as an agreeable man and 
 a younger son without resources. People expected gallantry 
 and a very ordinary style of living. I balked this public 
 expectation on both points ; I made very honourable outlays, 
 and I kept my house without abusing any of the privileges 
 of an ambassador. I used that of free customs with great 
 restraint ; this is the only honest way to retain a right to 
 them. My predecessors had brought in contraband supplies 
 
176 MEMOIRS AND LETTEES OF [chap. it. 
 
 -with more or less ostentation; I abolished that unworthy 
 sj^stem. An ambassador is the representative of his master 
 and his nation ; what care he ought therefore to take of their 
 fame and his own honour. I wished my household to be 
 regulated like that of a Chartreux establishment ; I required 
 that silence and order should reign there ; that my retinue 
 should be polite and respectful towards all citizens, and that 
 libertinism should be banished. Two or three timely exam- 
 ples made me master of establishing these rules and forcing 
 their observance. This wholly new system of life attracted 
 the attention of the Venetian government and caused a 
 little jealousy in the ambassadors from other Courts. 
 
 M. de Chavigny, who preceded me, had lived only eighteen 
 months in Venice. He made himself a reputation there by 
 his good fortune in becoming, in a way, the mediator of the 
 disputes between the Eepublic and the Court of Vienna on 
 the subject of the patriarchate of Agmla. It was not easy for 
 a new minister to make such a predecessor forgotten ; all the 
 more because from his present embassy in Switzerland he 
 continued, under the rose, to meddle with the matters with 
 which I was charged. "Without injuring the union and 
 friendship which existed between us, and by taking the tone 
 and air of a disciple rather than a rival, I cut short these 
 little intrigues and soon made myself an independent name 
 and consideration. 
 
 When I arrived in Venice I found the people, and a large 
 part of the government, Austrian or English ; the French were 
 held in such dislike that they ran the risk of being insulted 
 if they appeared in public places. I set myself to change that 
 national feeling ; and I succeeded by means that are simple 
 but infallible whenever persons have the intelligence to adopt 
 them, and the steadiness to employ them without interrup- 
 tion. I studied the manners and customs of the place ; I 
 
1752-1755] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 177 
 
 conformed to them without having an air of being annoyed 
 by them ; and I kept the spirit of my own nation only in 
 those gi'aces which please, without any tincture of that 
 arrogance that makes us hated by foreigners. 
 
 The Venetians were astonished after a time to find me 
 insensible to the charms of women, in a country where that 
 weakness is not thought a vice. From this time the Senate, 
 which is informed and takes note of all, considered me as a 
 man master of himself, on whom the force of example had no 
 power. It wondered, nevertheless, how a cadet without for- 
 tune could be so magnificent and disinterested. A crowd of 
 illustrious foreigners of all nations, whom the pompous cere- 
 monies of Holy Week drew to Eome, passed through Venice ; 
 my house was open to them, and there they were treated 
 with distinction, magnificence, and ease. No other foreign 
 minister would do this ; they preferred money to the reputa- 
 tion it gives. As for me, I regarded these travelling foreigners 
 as my trumpeters, who would sound my praises throughout 
 Europe ; I knew that the flattering noise would echo to Ver- 
 sailles, and when my friends scolded me for the great expen- 
 ses I incurred I answered : " I am putting my money into a 
 sinking-fund at very advantageous interest. You will see 
 what it will bring me back in abbeys and dignities. Besides, 
 I represent a great master ; I wish to re-conquer for France 
 the heart and mind of Italians, who are eager for show and 
 for all that has an air of magnificence. Moreover, it is my 
 business to e£Pace the shame of the niggardliness of my 
 predecessors." 
 
 I shall always advise the king to send magnificent ambas- 
 sadors to foreign courts, but, to avoid expense, I should not 
 keep regular ambassadors there, with fixed residence ; I 
 should employ habitually simple ministers, able men and 
 well-chosen, but whose character and position would need no 
 
 VOL. I. — 12 
 
178 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. iv. 
 
 display. When I sent an ambassador extraordinary, I should 
 surround him with all the pomp and majesty suitable to the 
 master he represents. It must be owned that if that ambas- 
 sador has not a great and noble soul his Court may give him 
 a great salary uselessly. Avarice and meanness wiU show 
 behind riches. It is more necessary in republics than else- 
 where that ambassadors should make a great appearance. 
 
 Before my embassy to Venice, the nobility in the theatre 
 and other places of meetiag never bowed to the ambassadors, 
 nor did the ambassadors bow to them. I changed that 
 savage custom ; I accustomed the nobles and the ladies to 
 be bowed to by me, and to return my bow ; gradually they 
 became so accustomed to it that they ended by bowing first. 
 I alone enjoyed that civility which the other foreign min- 
 isters had tried in vaia to obtaia. 
 
 The embassy to Venice is usually considered as a post of 
 little importance. This is why the Courts have not, for a 
 long time, sent men of much ability to fill it. It is true 
 that it does not seem very necessary to do so in view of the 
 little influence the Eepublic of Venice now has in the affairs 
 of Europe. And yet I do not know a better school in which 
 to train ambassadors. Nothing is of indifference in that 
 country ; every word, every action produces its effect ; thus 
 an observing and reflecting minister accustoms himself to 
 reason out all his actions, and to consider nothing as of no 
 consequence. Moreover, in Venice he treats with an invisi- 
 ble government, and always by writing ; which forces him 
 to great circumspection in order to send nothing to the 
 Senate that is not weU-digested and maturely reflected. He 
 must, moreover, if he hopes to make the affairs with which 
 he is charged succeed, employ an industry all the greater 
 because it must be employed with prudence. 
 
 The Court of Eome, on my arrival in Venice, had as 
 
1752-1755] CARDINAL DB BERNIS. 179 
 
 nuncio M. Caraccioli, a man regular in his morals, full of 
 fire and activity, but less liked than feared and respected. 
 I allied myself closely with him, — keeping, however, the 
 reserve that should always be maintained with the ministers 
 of other Courts, and especially the Italian Courts. 
 
 The Spanish ambassador iu Venice was M. de Montalegro, 
 Duke of Salas, who had been for ten years prime-minister in 
 Naples. He is a man of much intelligence and talent, who 
 has all the ideas necessary to render a man agreeable in 
 society ; it is a pity that so many fine qualities are obscured 
 by defects and weaknesses. My intimacy with this miaister 
 was agreeable to him, and very useful to me. M. de I'En- 
 cenada, prime-miuister of Spain, had been his comrade and 
 remained his friend, as far as two ambitious ministers can 
 be friends. These two men were in regular correspondence ; 
 I managed so well that before long the letters were com- 
 municated to me ; and in that way I was able to give my 
 Court much more correct ideas than M. de Duras, then the 
 kiag's ambassador at Madrid. His accounts and mine did 
 not agree ; the king's Council had, naturally, more confidence 
 in its minister on the spot than in an ambassador in Venice 
 who had not the Court of Spain before his eyes. So M. de 
 Saint-Contest and the Mar^chal de Noailles made light of 
 my tales ; but in course of time they saw that my predictions 
 were correct, for while M. de Duras was assuring the king 
 that M. de I'Encenada was secure as prime-miaister, I, on 
 the contrary, had for some time past announced his fall. 
 The veU was torn off, and they began to have faith in my 
 statements. 
 
 My principal usefulness in Venice was saving the money 
 of the king. But I did give very good news about all the 
 Courts of Europe, which I procured by my industry, and at 
 my own expense. No minister in a foreign land was ever 
 
180 MEMOmS AND LETTERS OF [chap. it. 
 
 better informed than I, without showing the least curiosity 
 or eagerness for information ; the spies that were sent to 
 fathom me were the ones from whom I got most profit and 
 knowledge of what it was important to know. I have always 
 had a talent for reading physiognomies, and enlightening 
 myself by chance words, of which I have often made the 
 application with great accuracy. 
 
 My work in Venice was thus heavy without my having any- 
 thing to do, or the appearance of doing anything. I chose 
 the post-days to go to the theatre, and to pay visits ; whereas 
 my colleagues were mysteriously shut-up on those days. 
 But I had no mistresses, and the evenings were long. My 
 readings and writings were incessant, though I gave more 
 time to society than others. So much work, joined to want 
 of exercise and the swampy air one breathes in Venice, 
 began to injure my health ; I may say that no one ever 
 sacrificed a finer or better health to the service of his 
 king. 
 
 Nothing could be more limited than the instructions given 
 to me. M. de Saint-Contest had few views and little in- 
 dustry. He had dismissed the Abb^ de la Ville [chief 
 clerk of the ministry of Foreign Affairs], who was a man 
 of mind and talent, and had put in his place M. de la 
 Chapelle, who thought he was a philosopher, and was, in 
 point of fact, a very ordinary man, and a very lazy one. 
 He said to me one day that the proper style for despatches 
 was very different from the academic style to which I was 
 accustomed. I answered that I knew but two sorts of style ; 
 that of men of intelligence, and that of fools ; and when 
 I reflected that it was to those two personages that my 
 despatches were addressed, the pen would sometimes drop 
 from my hand. 
 
 I sometimes used with the Venetians an innocent trick, 
 
1752-1755] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 181 
 
 which always succeeded. I knew they opened my letters, 
 and when I wanted to impress something on them I wrote 
 a despatch, which I was careful not to put in cipher, in 
 which I advised the manner in which they should he treated 
 in case they refused to do as we wished. They read it, and 
 it frightened them. But of course I could not often use 
 that means. 
 
 The confidence of the Eepublic in me grew to be so great 
 that in a very serious squabble which it had with Genoa 
 it chose me as mediator ; and the two republics accepted the 
 plan of agreement which I laid down. It was after this 
 affair, which made much noise in Italy, that tlie Senate 
 charged its ambassador in France, on three different occa- 
 sions, to express to the king the satisfaction that all classes 
 had received through my conduct. M. de Saiut-Contest did 
 not think it worth while to tell this to his Majesty, and the 
 Eepublic, being informed after the death of that minister of 
 this omission, renewed the same orders in a manner still 
 more precise and flattering to me, so that the king was at 
 last informed of my success. 
 
 No ambassador before me had ever sent to the Court such 
 detailed memoranda on aU the parts of the Venetian govern- 
 ment ; I fulfilled my ministry in that respect with the great- 
 est amplitude, and I wlU venture to say that my despatches 
 made the Eepublic of Venice better known than all that 
 had been previously written on that celebrated and singular 
 government. I employed, for the writing of these memo- 
 randa, one of my secretaries at the embassy, the Abbd 
 Deshaises, who has talent and merit, and in whom I know 
 no other defect than that of being a little too much con- 
 vinced of it. I charged his comrade-secretary, Emmanuel 
 Brun, with the arrangement of all the documents and memo- 
 randa which had relation to the affairs about which I ne- 
 
182 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. iv. 
 
 gotiated with the Eepublio. He is a man less briLliant than 
 solid, who has an upright miad and an honest heart. When 
 I -was dismissed he exposed himself to the loss of his 
 position in the ministry of Foreign Affairs to accompany me 
 into exile ; I regard him as my friend. 
 
 It will be seen, from this exposition of affairs which I 
 had to manage in Venice, that the field was a very restricted 
 one. I looked about me for a way to extend it. I knew that 
 M. de Saint-Contest had taken to the king's Council only 
 such of my despatches as were devoid of facts and reflec- 
 tions, and all those which could give an opioion of my ideas 
 and my views were pitilessly suppressed, as well as all my 
 memorials relating to the government of Venice. (M. Eouilld, 
 who succeeded M. de Saint-Contest, afterwards resuscitated 
 this buried labour and brought it before the Council.) It was 
 therefore important for me to find subjects of such interest 
 that M. de Saint-Contest could not avoid laying my despatches 
 before the king. This was difficult to do in times of peace 
 and from the midst of a republic eternally neutral by system, 
 education, and perhaps necessity. I despaired of my object, 
 when one day, looking over a map of the Venice territory, I 
 was struck by the utility this government might be to France 
 in any wars that we might have with the House of Austria 
 in Italy. I saw that the Eepublic was in relation to Germany 
 what the King of Sardinia was in respect to France ; that is 
 to say, that both are masters of the passes and may be 
 regarded as the gates to Italy. I perceived that by securing 
 to ourselves the Grisons we effectually closed all entrance 
 into Italy to the Germans. This point of view suddenly 
 made the embassy intrusted to me very important to my 
 eyes. But I feared that my predecessors had had the same 
 idea, and that it might be used-up by being handled. I 
 therefore looked through aU the despatches of the ambassa- 
 
1752-1755] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 183 
 
 dors of tlie king in Venice for the past fifty years, and I 
 found with as much surprise as joy that so simple an idea 
 and easy to seize was perfectly new. From that moment I 
 saw no difficulty in making my correspondence interesting, 
 and I formed the bold project of persuading the Eepublic 
 of Venice to put itself, withstanding its pride, imder the 
 protection of the king. 
 
 To succeed in this design I felt it was necessary to win 
 all minds, to please equally the people and the nobles, and 
 become in a way a citizen of Venice. I succeeded in this 
 preliminary above all hopes. It cost me much in care and 
 money. I helped the poor nobles, I succoured the indigent 
 people, I flattered the republican pride, I interested the 
 naturally good hearts of the Venetians. In a word, I 
 changed the mind of that nation, deeply prejudiced against 
 ours, to such a point that a Senator said to me one day that 
 the Senate was so convinced of my impartiality that if I asked 
 anything of it contrary to its interests it would have difficulty 
 in refusing it, and its confidence in me would not be shaken. 
 
 When I had got all minds into this condition, I waited 
 till some event should enable me to lead the Senate to feel 
 the necessity of gaining a protector, and from that to the 
 idea of the protection of France. 
 
 I told no one of my project; I wanted the republic to 
 come of itself to think of what I desired ; I made it perpet- 
 ually conscious of how much it had to fear a project of 
 aggrandizement from the House of Savoie, and in conse- 
 quence of the losses made by that of Austria; the latter 
 House was looking for compensation for Servia and for the 
 kingdoms of Naples, Sicily, and a part of Lombardy. From 
 what State could she get it with less risk and more facility 
 than the State of Venice, whose fortresses and, above all, 
 whose mUitia, were scarcely respectable. 
 
184 MEMOIRS AST) LETTERS OE [chap. iv. 
 
 These reflections were like so many serpents which I set 
 gliding through the heart of the Senate. They laid their 
 spawn, which a single event might hatch. That event was 
 not long in coming. 
 
 The projected marriage of the third Archduke of Austria 
 with the Hereditary Princess of Modena, gave me a canvas, 
 which I fiUed with some dexterity and cleverness. I made 
 the Venetians aware that the claims of the former Dukes of 
 Ferrara on the Polesina, the fiefs of Este, and a part of Padua 
 were about to be revived, and that the son of the Empress 
 Maria Theresa would have all the forces necessary to support 
 these old claims, and to make them an incontestable right. 
 I made the picture so striking that the Senate was almost 
 terrified. They began to talk to me of the measures they 
 ought to take, and they said that the Eepublic had the 
 utmost confidence in the friendship of the king, and his pro- 
 tection. As soon as I had heated these spirits I became 
 myself much cooler. I even made myself aloof by showing 
 that I might embarrass my Court ; and when matters grew 
 more advanced and nearer to maturity, I exacted that the 
 Eepublic should, by some positive act or writing, authorize 
 me to make my Court a statement of the Senate's views, 
 without which the king's Council might suppose that I 
 related fables merely to do myself credit. 
 
 The Eepublic objected strongly to so delicate a step, but 
 I finally brought the Senate to it on the occasion of the 
 visit of the Due de Penthifevre [Louis de Bourbon, son of 
 the Comte de Toulouse, legitimatized son of Louis XIV.]. 
 This prince was travelling incognito ; but the king desired 
 that he should be received with the honours due to his 
 rank. It should be remarked that no prince of the blood 
 had ever openly passed through Venice. I induced the 
 Senate to violate its customs in the reception of the Due de 
 
1752-1755] CARDINAL DE BBRNIS. 185 
 
 PentMfevre; he was received as son of a king; and in the 
 speech pronounced on that occasion by the son of the Pro- 
 curator Emo, the Eepublic openly declared its sentiments on 
 the protection it sought from France. A copy of this dis- 
 course was sent to me, which I transmitted to Versailles ; 
 but, to my great astonishment, the minister of Foreign 
 Affairs did not approve of taking the Eepublic of Yenice 
 under the protection of France. It may be said that by this 
 indifference he deprived the reign of Louis XV. of a great 
 lustre, and, it may be, of a great utility during future wars in 
 Italy. It win be seen by what I have just said that I did in 
 Yenice something that was out of the common, and also that 
 I little thought in that year, 1754, that I should be in 1756 
 the negotiator of an alliance between the Courts of Versailles 
 and Vienna. 
 
 I have never ceased to wonder that Venice, placed between 
 ten different States, without gates or walls, where soldiers or 
 guards are never seen, which is the receptacle of all the 
 evil-doers of the region, and where there is almost never a 
 public execution, should yet be the city of Italy ia which 
 there is least murder, and least robbery. I have seen on 
 Shrove Tuesday, in the Piazza San Marco, more than forty 
 thousand persons assembled; one could hear a pin drop 
 during the plays which were acted for the people ; not even 
 a handkerchief is lost ; and yet there are neither sergeants 
 nor archers to restrain the crowd. The reason for the order 
 that reigns in Venice is the certainty every one has that the 
 government is informed of everything, and that the State 
 inquisitors will put to death without formalities those who 
 disturb public order. The fear of secret executions awes 
 men more than public punishment. 
 
 I must here relate a little fact which proves the con- 
 sideration that the Senate of Venice showed to me. A 
 
186 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. iv. 
 
 portion of the nobility protected the Abbd Chiari, a rival, 
 very inferior, to the celebrated Goldoni, who is the Molifere 
 of the Italians. This abb^ gave to the public a comedy 
 entitled " The Venetian Lady in Paris." The play had a 
 great success on its first representation, but I was warned 
 that it spoke indecently of French valour. The Austrian 
 ambassador (Rosemberg) urged me, no doubt maliciously, to 
 go and see the play. I promised him to go the next day, 
 — which I did ; and I saw throughout the performance that 
 all eyes were turned to me to examine the expression of my 
 face, on which no displeasure appeared. The next day the 
 government sent questioners to ask what I thought of the 
 comedy; I said simply that I thought it pretty, except 
 the part of a Frenchman, for the first rule of the stage was 
 to give to each nation the character that belonged to it. I 
 said no more; and that night as the play was about to 
 begin before an audience more numerous than before, a 
 messenger from the State inquisitors arrived with an order 
 not to play the piece, which, in spite of cabals, has never 
 been returned to the stage. The next day an amusing notice 
 was posted up which said : La VeTieziana in Parigi morta 
 improvisamente del morbo gallico. 
 
 It must not be supposed that, although the Venetian nobles 
 are forbidden to hold any intercourse with ambassadors (a 
 very wise severity ; if the Eepublic ever renounces it, she will 
 lose her morals, and soon she will change her laws ; the one 
 follows the other), it must not be thought, I say, that in spite 
 of this rigour foreign ministers do not have any sort of inter- 
 course with the magistrates ; they speak to one another by 
 third parties ; they communicate many things by signs at the 
 Opera, a circumstance which renders the frequenting of thea- 
 tres and the use of the mask necessary to the foreign ministers. 
 Very warm and constant friendships are even formed be- 
 
1752-1755] CARDINAI, DE BERNIS. 187 
 
 tween them and the Venetians. Such has been the union 
 established between me and the Procurator Emo, who by 
 his wisdom, his ideas, and his enlightenment may be regarded 
 as the first man in the Eepublic. On arriving in Venice I 
 asked who was the man of the most credit and influence and 
 who was the woman who had the most important friends. 
 They named to me the Procurator Emo and Madame Barbar- 
 igo. From that moment I directed aL. my coquetries towards 
 those two personages ; they succeeded, for I have been able 
 to coimt them among my veritable friends. Some days be- 
 fore my departure from Venice I had an opportunity to speak 
 to Madame Barbarigo ; she promised me her friendship in a 
 very amusing manner : " Be sure, Monsieiu- I'ambassadeur," 
 she said, " that I shall be ever constant to you and never 
 faithful" I know that she kept her word. I had spoken to 
 her but twice, and only once to the Procurator Emo ; but we 
 always love a little where we esteem much. 
 
 I brought from Venice a very rare manuscript, in which 
 the genealogies of the Venetians are drawn at fuU length, as 
 much in what is mythical as in what is true. Though this 
 manuscript destroys a number of chimeras, it proves that the 
 ancient Venetian families may boast, with just claims, that 
 their nobility goes farther back than that of any other in 
 Europe ; and as each patrician exercises in a measure the 
 functions of sovereignty, we must agree that those who are 
 the most ancient have a marked advantage over the less 
 Ulustrious nobles. The House of France alone is out of this 
 ruling, for nothing is comparable to eight hundred years of 
 royalty, and such royalty ! 
 
 I had asked permission to pay my court to Madame Infan- 
 ta [Louise-Blisabeth of France, daughter of Louis XV.]^ on 
 her return from her journey to France ; it was granted, and 
 
 1 Married to the Dute of Parma, second son of Philip V. of Spain. — Tb. 
 
188 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. rr. 
 
 I went to Parma early in the montli of January, 1755. I 
 there foimd awaiting me very urgent letters from Court re- 
 questing me to return at once to Versailles. Mme. de Pom- 
 padour, ia one of hers which had been sent back from Turin, 
 supposed me already on my way. This urgency gave me 
 food for thought, because the motive for my recall with so 
 much eagerness was not explained. Madame Infanta, to 
 whom I showed the letters, and to whom the king wrote reg- 
 ularly every week, could not enlighten me. By dint of reflec- 
 tion, I divined the real object of the journey they proposed 
 (for M. Eouill^, then minister of Foreign Affairs, did not give 
 me a positive order to return). I imagined that the Court 
 had at last opened its eyes to the accuracy of the statements 
 I had made about the Spanish Court, and that there was 
 doubtless a desire to recall the Due de Duras and send 
 me in his place. 
 
 With this idea, which proved in the end correct, I decided 
 to reply that, unless a positive order were sent to me, I would 
 not leave Italy at a time when my presence was necessary 
 there. The Sultan had just died ; the king had also just lost 
 M. des AUeurs, his ambassador at Constantinople. His Maj- 
 esty at this time had only a charg6 d'affaires in Vienna. 
 Thus I was the only minister to give proper news of the 
 Porte at the beginning of the new reign. Moreover, the 
 affair of the " Decree " had put a coldness between the 
 Comt of Eome and the Eepublic of Venice, which was then 
 in a state of fermentation [a Decree suppressing various 
 privileges of the Court of Eome in relation to dispensations, 
 briefs, buUs, and indulgences]. The Comte de StainviUe, 
 now Due de Choiseul, a friend of Pope Benedict XIV., had 
 taken this affair much to heart, and advised the pope to 
 carry it through with a high hand, which did not seem to 
 me the best means of success. 
 
1752-1755] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 189 
 
 All these circumstances needed attention. I had, more- 
 over, come to a resolution to enter Orders ; a course I had 
 always resisted taking so long as I was urged to do so. 
 My intention was to go iato retreat on retumiiig to Venice 
 and prepare myself to enter the Order of sub-deacons. 
 
 On this answer, which I sent to M. Eouill^, the kiag said 
 that I must be allowed to do as I wished, and be told to 
 return whenever I judged it best to do so. I congratulated 
 myself then on the wise decision I had made to remain some 
 time longer in Italy. In so doing, I gave the Due de Duras 
 time to improve his position, and I left the Court to re- 
 call him if it wished, without my having any part in the mat- 
 ter. The Due de Duras was my friend from our school days ; 
 I owed him consideration ; besides which, it would have been 
 imprudent in me to offend his mother, Mme. la mar^chale, a 
 woman who knows very well how to assist and how to in- 
 jure. Accordingly, I paid my court to Madame Infanta for 
 three months ; I won her esteem and confidence, which she 
 gave me imtil her death, no matter what people have said 
 about it. This princess had great qualities and the defects 
 of a child. She did me, during my stay in Parma, many ser- 
 vices with the king, the dauphin, and the royal family ; I 
 have been fortunate enough since then to render her others 
 of still greater importance. 
 
 In the month of April I left Parma and returned to Venice, 
 where I made a two weeks' retreat ; after which I took Orders 
 as a sub-deacon from the hands of the Patriarch, Monsignore 
 Alviso Foscari, who was the best and most saintly old man I 
 have ever known. After the ordination he said to me, " Now 
 I can sing the song of Simeon." 
 
 The ministers no longer urged me to return to Prance ; in 
 fact, I saw that they felt a little embarrassed to know what 
 to say to me. But I was nearly forty years old, with no solid 
 
190 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OP [chap. iv. 
 
 prospect before me. I needed an abbey and the place of 
 councillor of State for the Church, which had long been 
 promised to me. My presence at Court became necessary for 
 the arrangement of my private affairs; I therefore put in 
 order those of the king, and left Venice the last of May, 
 1755, to go to Parma and thence to France. I carried away 
 with me the esteem of the Senate, that of Cardinal Eezzonico 
 (now pope), the love of the people, and a well-established 
 regard throughout Italy, which still lasts in spite of my 
 dismissal and exile. 
 
 In Parma I obtained not only the kindness, but the friend- 
 ship of Madame Infanta, and in Turin the King of Sardinia, 
 the Due de Savoie, and the ministers of that Court over- 
 whelmed me with civilities. 
 
 I was received by the king at Versailles (June, 1755) 
 with kindness and familiarity ; by the royal family as the 
 friend of the Infanta, for that is the title she did me the 
 honour to give me ; by M. EouilM and the other ministers as 
 a favourite to whom they could not deny some merit; by 
 Mme. de Pompadour as an intimate friend from whom she 
 expected consolation and advice. But, as I had foreseen, they 
 were a good deal embarrassed at having five months earlier 
 urged my return ; M. de Duras had mended matters, and the 
 whole Council, which in January had unanimously thought 
 that I ought to be sent to Spain, had changed its opinion. 
 The king alone, as I learned from Mme. de Pompadour, was 
 firmly resolved to make me succeed M. de Duras. 
 
 After viewing the scene, I decided to ask to return to Italy 
 in August. Mme. de Pompadour opposed my resolution for 
 a long time, but yielded at last to the good reasons I gave her. 
 I could not, in fact, prolong my stay at Versailles without 
 exciting a jealousy against me that was dangerous. M. 
 EouilM, a sufficiently honest man, who was not treacherous 
 
1752-1755] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 191 
 
 to me, and who even did me justice, was too narrow-minded 
 not to be jealous. M. de Machault had put him lq the 
 Foreign Office because it suited him to have the navy himself, 
 but M. Eouill^ was not in the least suited to deal with the 
 cabiuets of Europe. This minister said to me, " I shall never 
 cease to say that you are the best ambassador employed, even 
 though you should be my successor." I saw, besides, that 
 M. de Machault, the Prince de Soubise, and other particular 
 friends of Mme. de Pompadoiu: viewed with an evil eye the 
 preference she gave me over them on all occasions. The 
 royal family treated me with kindness and distinction ; Mme. 
 de Pompadour congratulated me upon it, but it was easy to 
 foresee that it might make her anxious; though, to tell 
 the truth, nothing better could happen to her than to have 
 her friend in the confidence of the king's family. It was 
 for this purpose that I reconciled her with Madame 
 Infanta. 
 
 That which alarmed me most was to see France on the 
 point of going to war with England, and consequently with a 
 part of Europe, without being aware of it or taking any 
 effectual means either to avoid that war or to sustain it. I 
 considered with the same terror that three years in my 
 embassy had made me regarded as the ablest minister of the 
 king and his greatest resource ; which proved the paucity of 
 men ; and I could not doubt that as soon as they found them- 
 selves in difficulties they would keep me at Court, and fasten 
 me to public affairs. This was what I dreaded most. In a 
 foreign country I was certain of the success of my ministry, 
 because I had the entire confidence of my Court, and could 
 always be sure of my means. But it was not the same at 
 Versailles, where I had against me the jealousy of all the 
 ministers and all the courtiers. A single misunderstanding 
 with Mme. de Pompadour might ruin me hopelessly ; I 
 
192 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. it. 
 
 knew how easy it is, ia matters of influence, to get em- 
 broiled with friends, especially female friends. 
 
 All these considerations determined me to fix the date 
 of my departure for Venice as the 12th of August. I got 
 the king to sanction my determination, and I obtained 
 from him the permission to make it public. As soon as 
 people were informed of it I^ saw joy sparkling on the 
 faces of the ministers and courtiers, with an air of serenity 
 which showed me that I had done wisely. But Providence 
 (for I cannot otherwise explain what happehed soon after) 
 decided otherwise. 
 
 Before returning to Venice I wished to secure my means 
 of living. The abbey of Saint-Arnould of Metz had become 
 vacant. I asked for it and received it instantly with all 
 the graciousness in the world on the part of the Bishop 
 of Mirepoix ; the salary of my embassy was increased ; a 
 sum was fixed to pay for my public entry into Venice; I 
 was again assured of the first vacant place as councillor of 
 State for the Church, and the king had the kindness to 
 promise me the cordon lieu as soon as I received my ap- 
 pointment to the Spanish embassy. If I had been more 
 grasping I could have had more, for at that time Mme. de 
 Pompadour loved me sincerely, I pleased the king and his 
 family, and the ministers would have consented to any- 
 thing to get me away ; no situation was ever more brillLant 
 or more dangerous. 
 
 The king had caused the cessation, for a time, of the in- 
 ternal troubles of the kingdom by recalling, without con- 
 ditions, the parliament which he had exiled to Soissons, and 
 by enregistering an edict containing a law of absolute 
 silence on the disputes which had risen over the bull TJni- 
 genitus. The recall of parliament without submission on its 
 part could not fail to give it fresh strength, and, on the 
 
1752-1755] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 193 
 
 Other hand, the law of silence, very wise in itself, had the 
 inconvenience of being easier to propose than to enforce; 
 besides which, the enforcement of the law being in the 
 hands of parliament, it was making one party the judge, and 
 could, of course, reduce to silence none but the bullists. 
 
 External peace was no better secured than that within the 
 nation. The Due de Mirepoix, the king's ambassador in Eng- 
 land, had let himself be amused by the ministers in London. 
 This was not surprising. The Due de Mirepoix was virtu- 
 ous, but shallow; what was surprising is that the king's 
 Council trusted to the statements of such an ambassador; 
 and that it should have been believed at Versailles that the 
 Court of London was pacific, when all Europe saw clearly 
 that it was about to declare war upon us. 
 
 The king had no other basis for his political system than 
 his alliance with the Kiug of Prussia, who was distrusted 
 with good reason, and for sole maxim the desire to preserve 
 peace as long as possible. But it is well known that a State 
 which excites the jealousy of its neighbours can preserve 
 peace only by a good internal and external administration ; 
 in other words, when it is in a condition to defend itself and 
 to attack. 
 
 The finances of the kingdom, which were then governed 
 by M. de S^chelles, a man of intelligence but worn-out, had 
 only an appearance of good administration; for, since the 
 Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle the State had spent every year 
 far more than its revenues ; the burdens on the people were 
 not diminished; and all the money of the kingdom was 
 virtually in the hands of the financiers. Commerce was 
 flourishing, but without support from the navy. We had 
 many hulks, and few vessels. Our militia, though numerous, 
 was neither well composed nor well disciplined; and our 
 frontier forts, Ul-provided and out of repair, completed a 
 
 VOL. I. — 13 
 
194 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. iv. 
 
 very sad picture of the state of France. In the Council, 
 no union; open war between M. d'Argenson and M. de 
 Machault ; unbridled license in proposals, no subordination 
 established ; the Prince de Conti having an almost universal 
 department, yet not a minister ; Mme. de Pompadour openly 
 at war with that prince ; the king holding the balance in the 
 midst of these divisions; overflowing luxury of the most 
 scandalous nature ; the people poverty-stricken ; no true en- 
 lightenment in the Council ; no citizen courage at the Court ; 
 no generals by land or sea on the eve of war. 
 
 Such were the threatening sights that came before me on 
 my return from Venice.^ 
 
 1 This brief statement tallies exactly with the Marquis d'Argenson's 
 bitter complaints and details. The two men were as wide apart as the 
 poles in temperament, in their methods of dealing with men and things, 
 in their judgment also on many points ; but they were both honest men, 
 with eyes and minds to see the truth and state it. — Tb. 
 
1755] CARDINAL DE BBRNIS. 195 
 
 1755. — The Situation of Mme. de Pompadour in 1755. — Capture «. 
 the Vessels " Alcide " and " Lys." — My Appointment to the Spanish 
 Embassy. — Secret Proposals of the Court of Vienna, September, 1755. 
 — My first Conference with the Austrian Ambassador. — Account 
 rendered by me to the King of the Memorial of Vienna. — Continuation 
 of the Negotiations. — First Secret Committee on the Vienna affair. — 
 Affairs of Vienna, Berlin, and Dresden. — My own Position. 
 
 On arriving from Venice, I found Mme. de Pompadour in 
 a very different position from that ia whicli I had left her ; 
 she was no longer the woman environed with all charming 
 talents, who governed France from a centre of pleasures. 
 The king had ceased for some years to feel passion for her ; 
 nothing remained in him but friendship, confidence, and that 
 bond of habit which, in princes, is the strongest of all ties. 
 Mme. de Pompadour needed consolation ; she saw me return 
 with the liveliest joy. I was her tried friend; I had ac- 
 quired a rather high reputation, which she regarded as her 
 work. She did not delay opening her heart to me and un- 
 covering all its wounds. She told me of the king's intrigue 
 with Mme. de Choiseul, who, one year earlier, had died in 
 child-bed ; she told me how Mme d'Estrades, instigated by 
 M. d'Argenson, had conducted that intrigue with the basest 
 ingratitude. She related to me the manner in which she had 
 been able to convict the king of his unfaithfulness to her, 
 which he denied. The Comte de StainvUle (now Due de 
 Choiseul) had made himself master of certain letters written 
 by the king to his cousin, Mme. de Choiseul; these he 
 gave to Mme. de Pompadour, who took them to the king. 
 
196 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. t. 
 
 So important a service, and one so dangerous to render, 
 produced the effect which the Comte de Stainville expected. 
 He had no trouble in persuading Mme. de Pompadour that 
 a feeling stronger even than love had led him to risk all to 
 be useful to her. Mme. de Pompadour felt, like a grateful 
 woman, the importance of this service; from that moment 
 she changed to friendship a species of aversion she had 
 always felt to M. de StainvUle; her heart, naturally kind 
 and feeling, was touched by the danger he had run to do 
 her service ; she made him her friend. For justice should 
 be done to Mme. de Pompadour ; all the coquetry which 
 people attribute to her is honestly in the mind; her heart 
 is not susceptible of it. Not only did she save the Comte 
 de Stainville from the king's anger, but she got him ap- 
 pointed to the embassy of Eome, not being able to obtain 
 for him that of Turin, which he desired, and which M. de 
 Saint-Contest made haste to give to M. Chauvelin. Such 
 was the origin of the great fortunes of the Due de 
 Choiseul. ' , 
 
 I found Mme. de Pompadour much disgusted with the 
 Court. She showed me copies of letters that she had written 
 to the king to obtain permission to retire from it ; nor did 
 she make a mystery to me of those she wrote to him on 
 public matters. The first convinced me that she was only 
 fiUed with anger and disgust, and I did not find in them a 
 firm resolution to quit the world ; the second, on the con- 
 trary, seemed to me admirable. I advised her to change 
 the tone of the first letters, which were certain in the end 
 to weary the king, and" to remain at Court, from which she 
 was not really detached, and where she could be useful. This 
 advice was given without any risk of wounding virtue, for 
 the tie between Mme. de Pompadour and the king was 
 now pure, and without danger to either. There was only 
 
1755] CABDINAL DB BERNIS. 197 
 
 the scandal to avoid. I shall have occasion later to tell 
 the means I suggested to the king to escape that evil. 
 
 With regard to the letters Mme. de Pompadour had 
 written for the improvement of public affairs, I should 
 never have supposed her capable of telling the truth to the 
 king with such energy, and even eloquence. I loved her 
 the better, and esteemed her the more for them. I exhorted 
 her not to weaken that style, but to continue to teU the 
 truth with force and courage. 
 
 I made her feel that she had acted imwisely in the 
 jealousy she had shown of the Prince de Conti; that the 
 more she insisted on keeping him at a distance, the more 
 she risked encountering the resistance of the king ; that in 
 acting with greater moderation, and less temper, her repre- 
 sentations would have much greater weight ; and, in short, 
 that there was but one thing to say to the king about the 
 Prince de Conti : " If you wish to charge him with your 
 affairs put him into the Council ; if you have not confidence 
 enough in him to give him that place, give back to your 
 ministers the management of those affairs which the prince 
 has usurped." Mme. de Pompadour followed my advice in 
 this respect, and found the benefit of it. The king soon 
 after gave to me the affair of the parliament, and the Prince 
 de Conti worked no longer with his Majesty. 
 
 I was not less fortunate in persuading Mme. de Pompa- 
 dour that she ought to banish temper and bitterness in her 
 intercourse with the. king; that she no longer had the right 
 to be jealous ; and that all her attention should be confined 
 to making her society amiable and agreeable to the king, 
 in order to make her advice more useful. I pictured to her 
 the condition of the kingdom, the disorder of the finances, 
 the universal insubordination, and the loss of the king's 
 authority. I made her feel how fatal the quarrel between 
 
198 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS 01" [ohap. v. 
 
 M. de Machaiilt and M. d'Argenson had been to the State ; 
 I urged her to make up her own quarrel with Comte 
 d'Argenson, and to sacrifice to the public good her personal 
 resentments. She yielded, with some difficulty, to my advice ; 
 but at last she charged me with the negotiation, to which 
 M. d'Argenson steadily refused to agree, not only at the 
 time I now spoke to him, but some time later, before his 
 dismissal. 
 
 M. d'Argenson made the mistake of nearly all ministers 
 who have been well treated by their master. They think 
 they have need of no one, and they imagine that when their 
 enemies wish to be reconciled, it is because they are 
 frightened, because their position is bad, and therefore that 
 it would be very stupid to prevent their fall. 
 
 It can now be seen from what I have said how much 
 Mme. de Pompadour had need in those days of the counsels 
 of a friend " honest man." It will be seen in the sequel that 
 this was not the only occasion on which I did her im- 
 portant services, and that if she contributed to my fortune 
 and my elevation, I acquitted myself towards her, not only 
 as a sensible friend, but also as a courageous man who knew 
 how to sacrifice all to friendship and gratitude. 
 
 I followed the king to Compifegne ; the foreign ministers, 
 seeing my favour, paid me more assiduous court than they 
 did to the minister of Foreign Affairs ; I was the depositary 
 of the complaints they made against M. Eouill^, whose 
 incapacity and arrogance revolted them. The Baron de 
 Knyphausen, minister plenipotentiary of the King of Prussia, 
 never left me ; he tried to persuade me that I was the only 
 minister of the king to whom he could speak, and the only 
 one in whom his master had confidence. He represented 
 to me in vivid colours the blindness of my Court, which, 
 without being aware of it, was on the verge of war with 
 
1755] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 199 
 
 England and her allies. He complained that our ministry 
 would take no measures in common with his master, who 
 was thus left exposed to attack ; he insisted that we ought 
 to forestall our enemies, and declared that if the king would 
 enter the Low Countries, his master was ready to enter 
 Bohemia at the head of 140,000 men. These confidences, 
 which he professed to make in the greatest secrecy, were 
 faithfully reported by me to the king ; but I was much 
 surprised to learn that what M. de Kjiyphausen whispered 
 in my ear he was proclaiming on the house-tops. This 
 affectation seemed to me suspicious; and it wiU be seen that 
 I was not mistaken. 
 
 It was under these circumstances that we heard of the un- 
 expected attack on our squadron by the English off the banks 
 of Newfoundland, and the capture of the frigates " Alcide " 
 and " Lys," without any previous declaration of war. All 
 persons of good sense saw that a naval war was certain, and 
 that a land war must soon follow. But the majority of the 
 king's Council absolutely persisted in thinking that war with 
 England could be avoided by mildly complaining of their 
 proceeding and making no reprisals. It was then that two 
 contrary opinions rose violently in the Council. The Comte 
 d'Argenson and all the military regarded the aggression of the 
 English as the first step in a scheme long meditated and agreed 
 upon by all the allies of England; and that consequently 
 that scheme should be frustrated by seizing the Austrian 
 Low Countries. M. Eouill^ minister of Foreign Affairs 
 accepted that opinion and supported it by memorials, to 
 which M. de Machault and the rest of the Council replied by 
 contradictory memorials. I was far, indeed, from thinking 
 then that I should be the instrument used by the king to 
 unite bim with the empress, and as I was firmly convinced 
 that England had not taken this overt step without a previous 
 
200 MEMOIRS AND LETTEES OF [chap. v. 
 
 understanding with Austria, her ally, I insisted strongly on 
 the necessity of breaking up this dangerous concert of our 
 enemies. 
 
 This pen war soon became indecent, because each side, in 
 order to make partisans, communicated its memorials, thus 
 divulging to the public the secrets of State. All the 
 Court, not excepting the women, hotly supported either one 
 side or the other ; the military came in crowds to Compifegne 
 asking to serve. What a sight for the foreign ambassadors 
 then assembled at Court, to see the gravest and most serious 
 affairs talked of as if at a caf^ ! This question, so important 
 for the State, ezcited such warmth solely because of the 
 personal interest taken in it by the two chief ministers. M. 
 d'Argenson desired a land war to render his ministry brilliant ; 
 M. de Machault, on the contrary, desired that the war be 
 confined to the navy for reasons equally personal. But it 
 was not a question of the respective interests of these two 
 ministers when the good and glory of the State had to be 
 decided on. A council was held, at which the Mar^chal de 
 Noailles, who had been absent for some days, appeared. The 
 course was taken of taking none ; of negotiating with Eng- 
 land, preparing slowly for a sea-war, and leaving our ports 
 open to the English while the latter were seizing our 
 merchant-vessels. With regard to the invasion of the Low 
 Countries, that was also rejected. 
 
 ' It was under these circumstances that M. de Knyphausen 
 renewed his declamations with an indecency and publicity 
 unparalleled ; and one day when he spoke to me with more 
 heat than usual I could not help saying. to him : " If I were 
 minister of Foreign Affairs here is what I should think of 
 the vehemence with which you preach the double invasion 
 of the Low Countries and Bohemia. I should believe that 
 yom- master wants to involve us for his own interests in a 
 
1755] CAKDINAL DE BERNIS. 201 
 
 war witli Austria, and that if the offer that he makes us is 
 refused, he will consider himself quits with us and will, 
 perhaps, make arrangements with our enemies, under pretext 
 of shielding himself." I was a prophet without knowing it. 
 The King of Prussia was then beginning a negotiation with 
 England by means of the Duke of Brunswick; but we 
 knew nothing of that. 
 
 Some time after this conversation, M. de Knyphausen 
 changed his tone and language. He 'praised the pacific 
 system of the king, and agreed that the interests of 
 France required her to keep to a sea-war only. He even 
 offered me, from his master, plans which he thought in- 
 fallible for humiliating England. This contrast confirmed 
 my suspicions ; I no longer doubted that the King of Prussia 
 was escaping us. I communicated my ideas to the min- 
 istry, but, with the exception of the king and, perhaps, M. 
 de Machault, the whole Council was Prussian. Neverthe- 
 less, by dint of insisting to Mme. de Pompadour on the 
 danger there was in not knowing exactly what to look for 
 from the King of Prussia, it was resolved (after some 
 months) to send the Due de^lSTivernais to Berlin. 
 
 The only measure that was taken to support the war 
 was that of searching for money. It was simple enough to 
 re-establish the dixilme, but M. de Machault obstinately 
 insisted that the king should, by declaration, re-establish 
 the two vingtiemes. The dixi^me would have been equally 
 productive and would not have made the people fear that 
 one vingtieme would be kept on after the war. Parliament 
 made representations that were not listened to ; heads grew 
 heated, and the fermentation in the parliaments, which had 
 scarcely subsided, began again with more indecency and 
 uproar than ever. The king was obliged to register his 
 declaration at a lit de justice held at Versailles. M. de 
 
202 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. v. 
 
 Maupeou, the chief-president, addressed the king in a 
 speech that, to say the least, was bold ; the two vingtihmes 
 were established with much difficulty, discredit for authority, 
 and great murmurs on the part of the people. 
 
 I groaned deeply at the species of paralysis with which 
 the government was attacked. I represented France to 
 myself as a wounded man, but full of life, whose legs and 
 arms were bound so as to compel him to lose blood and be 
 helpless for vengeance. The ministers replied to all my 
 representations with the popular proverb: Eira Men qui 
 rira le dernier. This supposed, at least, that serious prepara- 
 tions were being made ; but in reality all was sunk in 
 torpor. This fatal lethargy escited my blood to the point 
 of making me seriously ill ; it was not the first nor the 
 last time in my life that I have experienced that, for some 
 souls, love of country is the strongest of all loves. I own, 
 nevertheless, that such extreme sensibility is a defect in a 
 minister; but it must also be said that it is not common, 
 and that it presupposes the first of all virtues — love of 
 the public welfare. 
 
 During my illness the king had the kindness to write me 
 a note in which he promised to make me a commander of 
 his Order the next time that promotions were made in my 
 profession ; that flattering mark of his kindness cured my 
 fever, and redoubled the patriotic zeal that brought it on. 
 
 As soon as I recovered I thought of taking leave of the 
 king and returning to Venice. I was much astonished when 
 M. EouUM, by order of the king, forbade me to start. I 
 was then ignorant that the Due de Duras, our ambassador 
 in Spain, had presented, without being authorized to do so, 
 a memorial which had greatly displeased the Court of 
 Madrid. The king and Council thought it necessary to recall 
 him and appoint some one in his place immediately. In the 
 
1755] CARDINAL DB BEENIS. 203 
 
 month of January all the ministers had agreed in my favour 
 to fill that post; but times were changed; they esteemed 
 me then, and did not fear me ; but now I excited an almost 
 iiniversal jealousy. Each minister proposed to the king his 
 own prot^g^ for the ministry to Spain, but his Majesty held 
 firm ; he thought that as I had had all the suffrage in 
 January, I deserved in the month of August a preference 
 over others. 
 
 Thus I owed the embassy to Spain to the firmness of the 
 king, and perhaps, in part, to the friendship with which 
 Madame Infanta honoured me ; she had the greatest interests 
 to be managed in Spain, and could count on no one as much 
 as on me. It is true that I was the first minister who had 
 made the king feel how improper it was that the fate of her 
 husband the Infant, Duke of Parma, had not been settled 
 by the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle. 
 
 The commission intrusted to me was as important as it 
 was delicate. The Due de Duras, out of zeal and from being 
 too eager to establish a family compact between the king 
 and King Ferdinand of Spain, had spoiled everything. He 
 had given himself up to M. de I'Encenada, who was now 
 overthrown ; he was on bad terms with the Queen of Spain, 
 and on stiU worse with M. Eicardo Wall, a minister of State, 
 whom he represented ia his despatches as sold to the 
 English. 
 
 As soon as my appointment was made public, envy, which 
 had not known where to bite me, used a means it had em- 
 ployed before when I went to Venice. It reprinted a col- 
 lection of prose and verse which had appeared under my 
 name in 1739, when I was in Auvergne; I had publicly 
 disavowed it before my reception into the French Academy 
 in 1744. In truth, that collection does not belong to me ; 
 the maimed writings of several living authors are inserted 
 
204 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OE [chap. t. 
 
 in it ; and the pieces of which I am really the writer are so 
 altered and disfigured that I have the right to disavow them. 
 A great number of copies of this collection were sent to 
 Madrid, but people there thought, as in Italy, that if I was 
 the author of it I had one talent more than other ministers. 
 In spite of its poor success, this form of malice was renewed 
 whenever it was hoped to injure me. I am very fortunate 
 to have had no hidden wrong-doiag ; for its turpitude would 
 have been quickly unveiled. 
 
 It was towards the end of this trip to Compi^gne that 
 Mme. d'Estrades, who owed everything to her cousin Mme. 
 de Pompadour, was sent away from Court. She had been 
 long at the head of the intrigues of Comte d'Argenson, and 
 had guided that of his niece, Mme. de Choiseul. 
 
 I was making ready for my journey to Spain, on which I 
 was to start in about a week, when, one evening after leav- 
 ing M. EouilM, I received a note from Mme. de Pompadour 
 telling me to go to her the next morning at ten o'clock 
 without fail. I saw that some urgent affair had come up, 
 but I should never, ia a thousand years, have imagined what 
 it really was. I was there at the appointed hour. Mme. de 
 Pompadour showed me a letter to her from Comte Starem- 
 berg, minister plenipotentiary of their Imperial Majesties, 
 in which he asked Mme. de Pompadour for an interview for 
 the purpose of giving her certain secret proposals with 
 which he was charged by the Empress Maria Theresa. He 
 asked at the same time that the king should select some one 
 of his mtuisters to be present at this conference, who should 
 be authoriiied to convey to his Majesty these proposals, and 
 return the answer which the king might think proper to 
 make. JSTotlung could equal the surprise that this letter 
 caused me. A crowd of ideas came into my mind concern- 
 ing the object of the Court of Vienna, and also about my 
 
'ceryr^-ty^ ^■'y/i^:}<r73d-a. 
 
 ^^^iJi^f^^efM. 
 
^^5^J CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 205 
 
 own interests. At that first moment, I saw only a trap set 
 for the king, and a very dangerous reef for my fortunes and 
 my peace of mind. I asked Mme. de Pompadour if it was 
 she who had proposed me to his Majesty for this confidence. 
 She assured me she had not ; saying that the king, of his own 
 monition, had chosen me in preference to the other ministers, 
 not only from the idea he had of my capacity, but because he 
 knew the prejudices of his ministers against the Court of 
 Vienna. 
 
 I then developed to Mme. de Pompadour all there was to 
 fear in entering into a negotiation with the Court of Vienna, 
 whether it was sincere, or whether it was only seeking to 
 amuse us. In the first case, the king risked two things : 
 first, the total change of his political system and that of 
 Europe, which could not fail to upset all minds, and might 
 produce a general concussion. I added that, ia that first 
 case, it could not be doubted that Austria would drag us 
 into a war with the King of Prussia, and that a conflagration 
 might become general from the fear felt by the Protestant 
 princes at the union between the two great Catholic powers. 
 I made her feel also that such a war, foreign to the interests 
 of the nation, would displease all France ; that the king had 
 no tried generals fit to lead his armies, nor a treasury in 
 sufficiently good condition to sustain the burden of a dual 
 war by sea and land. 
 
 In the second case, the Court of Vienna, the enemy for 
 the last three hundred years of that of France, had great 
 interest ia causing jealousy to our allies by feigned negotia- 
 tions ; so that we could without injustice suspect it of wish- 
 ing to amuse us and so gain time to strengthen an alliance 
 with England, Holland, Eussia, and, perhaps, the King of 
 Sardinia. I represented the danger there was of rendering 
 the King of Prussia uneasy, and thus giving him a pretext 
 
206 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. v. 
 
 for unfaithfulness, in case France was left without allies; 
 for Austria, having succeeded in detaching them from us, 
 would not fail of pretexts herself to break off a specious 
 and frivolous negotiation. 
 
 As I was ending these reflections, the king, to whom I 
 had never yet spoken on public busiaess, entered the room 
 and asked me abruptly what I thought of M. de Starem- 
 berg's letter. I repeated to his Majesty what I had just 
 said to Mme. de Pompadour. The king heard me with 
 impatience, and when I ended he said, almost angrily, 
 " You are like the rest — the enemy of the Queen of Hun- 
 gary." I answered that no one admired that priacess more 
 than I did ; that I knew she had sent Comte Kaunitz to 
 Versailles to make a treaty of alliance with his Majesty ; 
 that I was not ignorant of a conversation the queen-empress 
 had held with Blondel, our minister in Vienna ; besides which 
 I had heard it said that her father, Charles VI., had ad\ised 
 her on his deathbed to imite herself with France if she de- 
 sired to keep her dominions ; but that all these reasons could 
 not prevent me from pausing on the two reflections I had 
 just explained to his Majesty, and which I submitted to his 
 judgment ; moreover, his Majesty, would do well to consult 
 those of his ministers in whom he had most confidence. 
 " Well, then," said the king, with some emotion, " I may as 
 well make a fine compliment to M. de Staremberg, and tell 
 him he will not be listened to." " That is not my meaning, 
 sire," I answered; "Your Majesty has everything to gain 
 by learning the intentions of the Court of Vienna, but care 
 must be taken as to the answer that is made." The king's 
 face became more serene ; he ordered me to listen to M. de 
 Staremberg's proposals in presence of Mme. de Pompadour, 
 who was to be present at the first conference only. 
 
 The empress exacted from the king, and promised him 
 
1755] CAEDINAL DE BERNIS. 207 
 
 in return, inviolable secrecy, ia a form wliicli I camiot repeat 
 because it relates to the secret pledge they gave to each 
 other. The empress also asked that no secretary be em- 
 ployed for the writings; and that when the king or the 
 empress judged it best to admit one of their ministers to 
 the secret they should give each other notice reciprocally. 
 Thus for a long time there was no one at the Court of 
 Vienna but the empress, the emperor, and Count Kaunitz 
 who knew of this negotiation, and no one in France but the 
 king, Mme. de Pompadour, and myself who knew of it ; the 
 intention of the empress being to negotiate as if she were 
 tete a tite with the king. This singular system redoubled 
 my fears and my suspicions. If I had been merely an 
 ambitious man I should have seen the advantage of being 
 alone in the confidence of my master, and having ia my 
 hands the thing he had most at heart ; for the king did not 
 conceal that what he had desired all his life was to have 
 the Comt of Vienna for his ally ; that he believed it 
 was the sole means of securing a long peace and maintain- 
 ing the Catholic religion. This decided bias of the king did 
 not prevent me from representing to him in the strongest 
 manner that it was necessary I should be aided and advised 
 by his minister for Foreign Affairs, or by such other member 
 of the Council as his Majesty might think proper to select. 
 My urgency was in vain; all that I could obtain was a 
 promise the king gave me to think of it after the negotiation 
 had begun to take a serious form. 
 
 Seeing the king inflexible, I asked him for a power 
 written by his own hand authorizing me to listen to M. de 
 Staremberg and answer him in the king's name; with a 
 formal order to me to report to his Majesty alone what took 
 place at these conferences. I also obtained from the king 
 that he would approve with his own hand the answers 
 
 / 
 
208 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. t. 
 
 and memorials that I should give ia his name to M. de 
 Staremberg, — a wise precaution -which I did not relinquish 
 throughout the course of this long negotiation. The king 
 ordered me to draw up the form of power that I wanted ; 
 I wrote it under his eye ; he took the minute, carried it to 
 his cabinet, and fifteen minutes later brought the power 
 back to me, written and signed in due form by the royal 
 hand. I never saw as much satisfaction and serenity on 
 the king's face as I observed at that moment. He ordered 
 me to make an appointment with M. de Staremberg for the 
 next day, in order to arrange with him the day and place 
 of the first conference. 
 
 A moment later the king went away to attend the Council. 
 I remained alone with Mme. de Pompadour, who told me 
 that M. de Kaunitz, during his embassy, had frequently 
 solicited her to bring the king to agree to the desire the 
 empress had to ally herself with France ; that the king had 
 always wished for this alliance, from his friendship and 
 esteem for the empress, from motives of religion, and also 
 from the little confidence he felt in the King of Prussia, who 
 had shown him much unfaithfulness and might show him 
 more. I comprehended, from what was said to me, that the 
 alliance with the King of Prussia weighed upon the king, 
 as much on account of the difference in religion as because 
 of the little circumspection with which the King of Prussia 
 had talked about his government and other matters personal 
 to the king. 
 
 I made Mme. de Pompadour feel that all these motives 
 must be made to harmonize with prudence and the good of the 
 State ; I congratulated her on the flattering confidence shown 
 to her by the Court of Vienna, and on the certainty that her 
 position would become the firmer and her favour the more 
 assured by her being so closely allied to an affair of such 
 
1755] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 209 
 
 great importance. For myself, I showed her only regret at 
 being charged with this affair ; it is true that I saw in this 
 negotiation too great an embarkation for France, and for me 
 a dangerous commission, which, though raising me very high, 
 might fling me down into disgrace. Mme. de Pompadour 
 reassured me on the liking the king had for me, and the con- 
 fidence with which he honoured me. In spite of that, I told 
 her I should act in the matter with the same precautions as 
 if I expected to be arrested in three months. I do not be- 
 lieve in presentiments, but I trust to my first coup d'ceil ; it 
 has never deceived me. 
 
 The king returned from the Council and had the goodness 
 to tell me that he had sounded two of the ministers in a very 
 adroit and guarded manner on the objections I had made as to 
 the danger of negotiating with Vienna under present circum- 
 stances. " You will be pleased," he added, " for they thought 
 as you do." I saw that this conformity of opinion increased 
 his confidence in my advice. From that time he treated me 
 with a kindness and familiarity which showed that he was 
 much at his ease with me, — a condition which greatly dimin- 
 ished the awe he always inspired in me. 
 
 In conformity with the king's orders I went to see M. de 
 Staremberg to tell him I had been chosen to treat with him. 
 He assured me he had never doubted that the choice would 
 fall on me ; he seemed very glad of it, and we talked of the 
 reciprocal desire our sovereigns had to unite themselves by the 
 ties of sincere friendship. We fixed the first conference for 
 the next day, in a little house at the lower end of the Belle- 
 vue terrace, where we were to go from different directions, 
 after sending away our servants and carriages. I shall say 
 here, in passing, that my meetings with M. de Staremberg 
 were so secret that for more than six months the foreign 
 ministers never suspected our intercourse. 
 
 VOL. 1. — 14 
 
 ] r 
 
 Y 
 
210 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. v. 
 
 I was the last to arrive at Bellevue. M. de Staremberg 
 read Ms memorial. I had agreed with Mme. de Pompadour 
 (who was present at this first conference) that while M. de 
 Staremberg was explaining the proposals of the Court of 
 Vienna we should not betray our thoughts by look or ges- 
 ture ; the precaution was wise, for M. de Staremberg did not 
 read a line without searching in our eyes for the impression 
 made upon us. I own that nothing ever surprised me more 
 than the way the empress took to propose her alliance to the 
 king ; she supposed him displeased with the King of Prussia 
 and aware of the latter's negotiations with the English Court, 
 — a circumstance which was until that moment entirely un- 
 known to the Court of Versailles. The empress, instead of 
 using by-ways and craft, imparted her views to the king 
 with the utmost frankness, proposing to his Majesty advan- 
 tages which would, of necessity, interest his heart, and an 
 extensive plan about which I am not at liberty to speak. 
 
 After the reading of the memorial, M. de Staremberg dic- 
 tated it to me, word for word, and collated my copy. We 
 separated without any signs of approval or disapproval. 
 Mme. de Pompadour had withdrawn after the reading of the 
 memoriaL I was left with M. de Staremberg, and from him 
 I heard several particulars which I reported to the king. I 
 am able to state only one : the Court of Vienna had long 
 hesitated whether to address itself to Mme. de Pompadour 
 or to the Prince de Conti as the means of making its pro- 
 posals to the king. MM. de Kaunitz and de Staremberg 
 turned the scales in favoiu: of Mme. de Pompadour. 
 
 The memorial of the Court of Vienna informed us of the 
 negotiations of the King of Prussia with England; that 
 knowledge was the first advantage we gained from the mem- 
 orial. Secondly, the Court of Vienna told us its secret inten- 
 tions, without knowing whether we would tell ours; and 
 
I'^SS] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 211 
 
 though the result justified the boldness of this step, I have 
 always wondered that M. de Kaunitz advised it. The plan 
 proposed to the king was the work of M. de Kaunitz. It 
 was large, perhaps too vast, too complicated; but it pre- 
 sented objects of real interest to France, means of securing 
 the peace of Europe on solid foundations, and some matters 
 capable of moving the affectionate and paternal heart of the 
 king in respect to his children and grandchildren ; my duty 
 does not allow me to say more. 
 
 After reflecting carefully over this plan thus proposed, I 
 felt that the king ought to answer with much circumspec- 
 tion overtures so important and so unexpected. I drew up 
 the answer that I thought ought to be made, and went to 
 Choisy to submit it to the king. I made his Majesty feel, in 
 the account I gave him of the first conference, that the reflec- 
 tions I had previously made to him on the danger of this 
 negotiation were just. The king approved the plan of con- 
 duct I suggested to him to avoid the rocks on which this 
 great affair might cast us. 
 
 The king answered the Court of Vienna in the memorial 
 as I had written it, approved in his own handwriting, saying : 
 that nothing could be more agreeable to him than to imite 
 himself with the empress by the ties of unalterable friend- 
 ship and an eternal alliance, but that, faithful himself to his 
 friends, he coidd not suspect their sincerity, still less take 
 any measure which coidd be adverse to them ; that his whole 
 desire was to maintain the peace sworn at Aix-la-Chapelle, 
 and that if the empress judged it well to work in concert 
 with him for so salutary an object his Majesty was aU ready 
 to concur. 
 
 This answer had no drawback for us ; the king played a 
 fine r6le ; the empress might certainly regret having advanced 
 so far ; but that was precisely what removed all fear that she 
 
212 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. v. 
 
 would take part with our enemies before she knew exactly 
 what to expect from France. 
 
 The king, in spite of his extreme desire to unite himself 
 at once with the empress, felt and approved the wisdom 
 of this answer and the plan of negotiation it suggested. I 
 saw that his confidence in me increased ; in fact, from that 
 day the king never opposed any of my projects nor any of 
 my memorials. This indulgence on his part redoubled the 
 fear I had in being intrusted alone, and without help from 
 the ministry of Foreign Affairs, with a negotiation so impor- 
 tant in itself and in its possible consequences. I again made 
 earnest requests that the Council of the king, the whole 
 or a part, might be informed of my commission and told to 
 enlighten my work. My efforts were useless, and it was 
 not until six weeks later that I obtained the king's per- 
 mission to have conferences with four of the ministers, as I 
 shall presently relate. If I had been more ambitious than wise 
 I should, after representing to the king the necessity of my 
 being aided by the advice of his ministers, have yielded to 
 his repugnance and remained sole master of a most impor- 
 tant State affair, obtaining easily the power and influence 
 necessary to direct and terminate it. But, as I have already 
 remarked, I feared the results of the negotiation, both for the 
 kingdom and for myself. 
 
 One of the principal points in the plan of conduct I pro- 
 posed to the king was the sending to the King of Prussia an 
 enlightened minister who could fathom the sentiments of that 
 king and, so to speak, feel his pulse and discover his true 
 intentions at the moment when war was imminent between 
 France and England. The minister was also to be charged 
 to clear up the suspicions the Court of Vienna had given us 
 as to the negotiations of the King of Prussia with the English 
 through the Duke of Brunswick ; in this way the king would 
 
1755] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 213 
 
 avoid the double risk of suspecting a faithful ally or of being 
 the dupe of a perfidious friend. Moreover, a knowledge of 
 the sentiments of the King of Prussia was necessary to ex- 
 tend or contract the arrangements that we might make with 
 the Court of Vienna ; for if it was true that the King of 
 Prussia was abandoning us, the king would be without allies, 
 and he must either unite himself to the Court of Vienna or 
 run the risk of beiug exposed to a league of aU the great 
 powers of Europe. These reasons struck the king's mind, and 
 soon after the Duke de Nivemais, a well-informed man of a 
 wise and enlightened mind, was chosen to go to Berlin. 
 
 I expected that the Comte de Staremberg would not be 
 satisfied with the reserved reply I had orders to transmit to 
 him ; he did not conceal from me either his surprise or his 
 vexation; but he finally copied the king's reply from my 
 dictation and sent the letter the next day by a courier, whom 
 the Court of Vienna sent back without delay. M. de Starem- 
 berg notified me of his arrival and communicated the reply 
 of his Court, which, without being harsh, was cold and laconic. 
 The empress renounced the plan she had proposed, as it was 
 not to the taste of the king, and would wait for his Majesty 
 to explain the objects which might serve as a basis for the 
 two Courts to take coinmon action. 
 
 I soon remitted to M. de Staremberg a second reply from 
 the king, in which I studied to remove the fears and 
 umbrage which our reserve had roused in the Court of Vienna. 
 That first impression did not begin to fade for more than six 
 weeks, and after many replies and responses from the two 
 Courts. I then perceived that it was possible to detach the 
 empress from her alliance with England, and that by binding 
 the King of Prussia not to break the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, 
 the peace of the continent could be secured ; the king would 
 then have no other burden to support than that of the war he 
 
214 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. v. 
 
 was about to have with England. That prospect, happy for 
 France and for Europe, dispersed my anxieties, inspired my 
 work, and warmed my zeal. 
 
 I conceived then the project of a treaty of reciprocal 
 guarantee between the States of the king in Europe and 
 those of the empress-queen, to which their respective allies 
 should be invited to accede, with the exception of England ; 
 this last point would of course be difficult to obtaia. I drew 
 up the articles of this treaty of uoion and guarantee. The 
 king approved them, and felt how fortimate he would be if 
 the work could be thus terminated ; it would be the means of 
 securing the peace of Europe during his reign and that of the 
 empress. His Majesty authorized me to make the first over- 
 tures of this salutary plan to the empress's minister. The 
 memorial which I gave him was welcomed fairly well in 
 Vienna ; the empress had in fact advanced too far to venture 
 on making no agreement with us. She answered that she 
 would authorize her minister to discuss with me the different 
 points of this treaty of union and guarantee. 
 
 In this condition of things, the negotiation taking a more 
 serious turn, I was imwHling any longer to be the sole 
 person charged with an affair so important. I represented 
 to the king that in spite of all my attention I was liable 
 to make considerable mistakes, not being informed of what 
 was happening in the different cabinets of Europe, whereas 
 M. de Staremberg was aided by all the lights of his Court ; 
 that the game was not equal, and that no earthly induce- 
 ment would make me involve the king in such serious 
 engagements unless I were enlightened by his ministers. 
 I asked him therefore to appoint such members of his 
 Council as he judged suitable, to whom I could render an 
 account, in committee, of what had passed up to this time 
 with the Court of Vienna, and of the negotiation now opened. 
 
1755] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 215 
 
 The king yielded witli difficulty to my request ; but finally 
 lie chose, to confer with me, M. de Machault, then secretary 
 of State for the navy, M. de S^chelles, controller-general of 
 finances, M. Eouill^, minister of Foreign Affairs, and M. 
 Saint-Florentin, miaister of State. I expressed some sur- 
 prise that M. d'Argenson, minister of war, was not admitted 
 to this secret committee; the king told me that when the 
 affair was further advanced he would be called into it as 
 well as the other members of the Council. 
 
 The surprise of the ministers of the king whom I have 
 just named can be imagined when I told them what had 
 happened since the month of November. M. de Machault 
 and, above all, M. Eouill^ could only imperfectly conceal 
 their vexation. The Comte de Saint-Florentin was the only 
 one who expressed any joy at seeing me in the confidence of 
 the sovereign. I showed them my order and power from 
 the king to negotiate with M. de Staremberg, and all the 
 memorials sent to the Court of Vienna, approved in the 
 hand-writing of his Majesty. It was agreed between us 
 that in future, before treating with the Austrian minister, 
 and before presenting to the king any memorial relative to 
 the negotiation, I should, each time, explain to the com- 
 mittee the object of my conference, and the subject of my 
 memorial. This system was constantly followed throughout 
 the whole course of the negotiation ; I wished the latter to 
 be regarded, not as my own work, but as that of the king 
 and his Coimcil; it was the only way to shelter myself 
 from possible events. 
 
 It is easy to imderstand now the excessive labour this 
 involved. I wrote with my own hand, under M. de Starem- 
 berg's dictation, the answers and memorials sent by his 
 Court, of which I made a copy for the minister of Foreign 
 Affairs; I did the same for the replies- and memorials 
 
216 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. v. 
 
 returned in the king's name ; besides this, I composed and 
 made minutes of all the projects and counter-projects relat- 
 ing to treaties and conventions ; at each difficulty I was 
 forced to write memorials to explain matters ; and when the 
 king was absent from Versailles, and the Council dispersed, 
 I was obliged to write detailed despatches to all the members 
 of the committee. For this immense labour I was not 
 allowed to employ a secretary from the month of September, 
 1755, until the month of March, 1757, at which time my 
 health totally broke down. To preserve the secret of this 
 negotiation, I was obliged to give myself up to society, and 
 to lead the life of a man who has nothing to do ; I was 
 therefore compelled to spend my nights in work. Add to 
 these fatigues of the body the anxieties of a man who excites 
 the jealousy of all the king's Council ; the perpetual watch- 
 fulness necessary to avoid the snares laid for me ia all 
 directions, and the spies which the foreign ministers and 
 those of the king not admitted to the committee set upon 
 me ; a picture will thus be had of a situation which I am 
 now astonished that I was able to resist. I am not less 
 surprised that the secret of the affair confided to me has 
 never transpired. 
 
 The king, at my entreaty, had sent the Due de Nivernais 
 to Berlin. The King of Prussia neglected nothing to cajole 
 that minister, who, ignorant of our negotiations with the 
 Court of Vienna, was strongly of opinion that the king 
 ought to renew his treaty with Prussia. That king testified 
 to the duke the greatest attachment to Prance, and excessive 
 fear of the treaty of subsidies which England had just 
 concluded with Eussia for the payment of eighty thousand 
 men [signed in Petersburg, September 30, 1755]. This 
 alarm of the King of Prussia was reasonable enough, but 
 he exaggerated it to give himself an excuse in our eyes for 
 
1755] CARDINAL DE BBRNIS. 217 
 
 the convention he had just signed with the English Court. It 
 was not until February, 1756, that his Prussian Majesty 
 admitted this arrangement plainly to the Due de Nivemais. 
 He then showed him the treaty, signed by his minister in 
 London, and in spite of the Due de Nivernais' solicitations, 
 he ratified it before his very eyes, offering at the same time 
 to renew his treaty with us ; thus contracting at the same 
 time with two powers at enmity, which had an appearance 
 of veritable derision. 
 
 "When I was consulted as to this renewal of alliance with 
 the King of Prussia, I said distinctly that it ought to be 
 done, provided the King of Prussia would abrogate his 
 convention with England ; for it could not be permitted that 
 he should sign a treaty with his right hand with England, 
 and one with his left hand with us. This opinion was that 
 of the committee also, and the kiug adopted it. The Due 
 de Nivernais was, in consequence, written to, and recalled 
 after making vain efforts to induce the King of Prussia to 
 break his treaty with the Court of London. M. de Niver- 
 nais was ignorant of our negotiations with the Court of 
 Vienna. I must not forget to mention here that the Kiug 
 of Prussia said to him, when he reproached his Majesty for 
 concluding a treaty with England without our knowledge : 
 "Here you are, very angry; why don't you make a treaty 
 with the empress ? I should have no objections." He was 
 reminded of this remark when the Treaty of Versailles was 
 communicated to him. 
 
 As soon as I saw that we could no longer count on the 
 King of Prussia I made every effort to induce the Council 
 of the king, especially M. Eouilld, to grant a subsidy to the 
 King of Poland, Elector of Saxony, in order to oblige that 
 prince to maintain an army of fifty thousand men, and 
 secure Saxony against an invasion by the King of Prussia. 
 
218 MEMOIES AND LETTEKS OP [chap. v. 
 
 The Comte de Broglie, our ambassador in Dresden, vehe- 
 mently solicited this treaty of subsidy. M. EouilM was 
 rather inclined to it, but MM. de Machault and de SdcheUes 
 opposed it strongly. In vain I represented that as soon as 
 the Kiag of Prussia knew of our relations with the empress 
 he would not fail to attack Bohemia unexpectedly, and take 
 possession of the Electorate of Saxony. They answered 
 that I did not know the King of Prussia ; that, bold as he 
 seemed, he would die of fear the moment he saw that we 
 had allied ourselves to the Court of Vienna ; that he could 
 not do anything without us ; and would think himself very 
 lucky if we did not attack him. Can it be believed that the 
 Council of the greatest king in Europe could have judged 
 so falsely of the King of Prussia ? This bad judgment was 
 the cause of all the evUs of the present war. I shall often 
 have occasion to refer to it. No doubt persons will be 
 amazed that the king, having more confidence in me as to 
 foreign affairs than in any other of his ministers, should not 
 have followed my opinion on a point so essential; but I 
 was alone against many, and people count votes more than 
 they weigh them. 
 
 We shall see, in the end, on how many important occa- 
 sions my opinion on public affairs was opposed and neglected. 
 I had been chosen as the architect of a great work, but I 
 was never master of its guidance, and the choice of means 
 and workmen often depended on persons the most opposed 
 to the system the king had undertaken to carry out. Will 
 it be believed that during our two years' negotiations with 
 the Court of Vienna, M. Eouill^, minister of Foreign Affairs, 
 was never willing to communicate to me what was going 
 on in the Courts of Germany and the North, and that he 
 limited aU my information to letters which arrived from 
 Madrid, on the pretext that I was only the ambassador to 
 
1755] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 219 
 
 Spain. Not only did he refuse me lights which were neces- 
 sary to negotiate advantageously with M. de Staremberg, but 
 he often gave instructions to the king's ministers in Ger- 
 many that were very contrary to the language that I held 
 to the ministers of the empress, so that complaints and 
 distrust were continual from the Court of Vienna. 
 
 The king was informed of conduct so extraordinary and 
 so prejudicial to his interests; he groaned over it; but M. 
 Eouilld was old and infirm, the king knew his jealousy and 
 his weaknesses, and, by excess of kindness, he would not 
 mortify him by commanding him to open to me the portfolio 
 of Foreign Affairs. To conciliate his interests with his 
 kindness, and in order that I should be fully informed of 
 what it was so important for me to know, it will presently 
 be seen that the kiug appointed me to his Council; the 
 same motive subsequently determined his Majesty to make 
 me minister of Foreign Affairs in 1758. Thus it was to 
 the jealousy of M. Eouill^, and not to the favour I enjoyed, 
 that I owed these two important positions. The intention 
 of the king was not to let me occupy them untU after my 
 return from my embassies to Madrid and Vienna. I am 
 assured of this fact by a letter from the king to Madame 
 Infanta which she communicated to me at Versailles. 
 
220 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. vi. 
 
 VI. 
 
 1755-1756. — The Affair of the Requisition, and that of Minorca. — Con- 
 tinuation of Negotiations with Vienna. — The Treaty of Versailles. — 
 Publication of the Treaty in July, 1756. — Negotiations with the Court 
 of Vienna. — The King of Prussia assembles his Eorces and threatens 
 an Invasion of Saxony and Bohemia. 
 
 I FELT certain from the cautious treatment shown by our 
 ministers to England that some sort of negotiation had 
 suspended the activity of the government in France; but 
 I had no certainty of this fact when, dining one day with 
 the Marquis de Puysieux, I found there the speech with 
 which the King of England had just opened his parliament. 
 In it he said : " With a sincere desire to secure my people 
 from the evils of war and to prevent, in the midst of present 
 troubles, whatever could lead to a general war in Europe, 
 I have been ever ready to accept all honourable and reason- 
 able terms of agreement ; but up to this time France has 
 proposed none. Consequently I have limited my views to 
 preventing that power from making further usurpations or 
 maintaining those it has already made; to letting it be 
 known distinctly that we have the right to demand satis- 
 faction for hostilities committed in a time of profound 
 peace ; and to bringing to nought designs which, as various 
 appearances and many preparations give reason to believe, 
 are now being formed against my kingdom and my domains." 
 
 This speech left no uncertainty as to the intentions of 
 the Britannic Court, and it was plain we could no longer 
 reasonably expect to be at peace with that power. A 
 means presented itself to my mind of bringing the Council 
 
Carl Van Loo 
 
 ^^>-^ 
 
 
1755-1756] CARDINAL DB BEENIS. 221 
 
 at Versailles to ask an explanation from the English min- 
 istry. This means justified at the same time the king's 
 inaction, not only in the eyes of his subjects oppressed by 
 the English, but also in the face of all Europe, and threw 
 back the odium of the war on the Britannic Court ; in short, 
 it furnished the king with a means of revenge both useful 
 and honourable. I went at once into my cabinet where I 
 drew up a first memorial (which will be found among my 
 papers). 
 
 Before speaking to the king of my great project, I wanted 
 to make sure that means could be found to ezecute it. I 
 went to see M. PSris-Duverney, intendant-general of military 
 subsistence, a man of genius and resources, who has ideas 
 in his mind and loftiness in his soul. I read him my 
 memorial ; he seized at once and admirably the full extent 
 of the plan, and the political and military bearings of 
 the double project it presented. M. Duverney assured me 
 that the subsistence side of the affair could be ready in 
 three weeks, and that his brother, M. Paris-Montmartel 
 would furnish the necessary money. "We went together to 
 see the latter, who applauded no less than his brother the 
 contents of my memorial ; he promised that the money 
 should not be wanting as soon as the king had given his 
 orders. M. Montmartel has enriched himself in serving the 
 king ; but it must be said that his fortune and his credit 
 have both been useful to the State on several important 
 occasions. 
 
 We agreed, all three, that my memorial should be com- 
 municated on the following day to his Majesty. In the 
 interval, M. Duverney sent me a very clear and strong 
 statement of the means to employ to make sure of the 
 supplies and munitions necessary to the success of the 
 enterprise. After having taken these precautions I went 
 
222 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. vi. 
 
 back to Versailles, and gave my memorial to the king, 
 assuring him that if he adopted my project, neither the 
 money nor the other means would be lacking. 
 
 The king has a naturally sound mind. He liked the plan ; 
 but he wished before adopting it to have it approved by 
 the Council, and, in consequence, he ordered a committee, 
 at which all the ministers should be present. 
 
 My project consisted in making to the Court of London a 
 Eequisition, by which the king declared that, to avoid the 
 evils of war, he would willingly forget the insult offered to 
 his flag by the irregular capture of the " Alcide," and the 
 " Lys," and by the still less excusable carrying off of the 
 merchant-vessels of his subjects, on condition that England 
 would restore at once and without reserve the said vessels ; 
 also that if his Britannic Majesty accepted a proposition so 
 equitable, his Majesty was ready to renew the negotiation, 
 now interrupted, for the settlement of the North American 
 boundaries ; but that if, on the contrary, the King of England 
 refused so just and amicable an overture, his Majesty would 
 regard that refusal as an open declaration of war. 
 
 This Eequisition [published in the " Gazette de France," 
 1756] was to be accompanied by a letter from the minister 
 of Foreign Affairs, to Mr. Fox, and sent through the king's 
 ambassador at the Hague to Mr. York, Britannic minister in 
 Holland, for transmission to his Court; the answer to be 
 returned to our ambassador. At the same time copies of 
 the Eequisition were to be sent to all the Courts of Europe, 
 to let them see the moderation and equity of the king. 
 But as this step towards the Court of London was threaten- 
 ing in case of a refusal, the threat was not to be lost in air, 
 and I supported it by a detailed plan for attacking Minorca. 
 The Eequisition was but the preamble of that means of 
 vengeance, and the two things were so bound together that 
 
1755-1756] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 223 
 
 my plan involved renouncing the Eequisition, if the attack 
 on Minorca was not practicable. In case the attack on 
 Minorca was determined on, I wanted that all arrange- 
 ments to begin that enterprise should be completed by the 
 time the answer came from London ; so that there might be 
 no interval between the refusal of England and the attack 
 on the island. 
 
 All the king's Council, with the exception of M. de 
 Machault, praised this project very much, as a whole and 
 in parts. As for the Keeper of Seals [M. de Machault], he 
 contented himself by saying coldly : « That Eequisition will 
 give us war." M. de S^cheUes, who rolled his r's, said, 
 stamping his foot, " Eh ! jarni, monsieur, is n't it war al- 
 ready ? " M. de Machault knew that well enough, but he 
 saw that the attack on Minorca would give M. d'Argenson 
 a role to play, and that displeased him. Moreover, M. de 
 Machault was in the confidence of an underhand negotiation, 
 with which the Court of London had been for some time 
 amusing us ; a banker in Paris being the negotiator. When 
 the king ordered M. Eouill^ to disclose to me that mystery, 
 I was immensely surprised that the ministers should have 
 given attention to so clumsy a trick. I soon made the 
 king feel the indecency, danger, and uselessness of such a 
 negotiation. 
 
 Though the king's Council adopted my project, it was not 
 without much difficulty and effort that I succeeded in getting 
 it executed. I wrote many memorials on the subject, to 
 develop the plan and facilitate its execution. I asked that 
 the king should appoint a general of reputation to command 
 on our ocean coasts, and another on the coasts of the Mediter- 
 ranean. Forty thousand men were to be marched to the 
 former to threaten England with the phantom of an embarka- 
 tion on the ocean side. All the success of the enterprise 
 
22i MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. vi. 
 
 against Minorca depended on the belief that England might 
 give to these demonstrations; which in my plan were not 
 altogether chimerical; for if the English were too unready to 
 take their forces to the Mediterranean, nothing need prevent 
 us from attacking the islands of Jersey and Guernsey. 
 
 While this feint was preparing at the West, everything was 
 to be made ready at the South, in the harbours of Toulon and 
 Marseille, for the transportation of thirty-five battalions, 
 convoyed by a squadron sufficient to protect them. These 
 double preparatives, by dividing the attention of England, 
 set a trap for her which it would be hard to avoid, especially 
 if the secret of the Minorca expedition were well kept. As it 
 was, England fell into it, and it was only in consequence of 
 our delays that the squadron of Admiral Byng arrived to the 
 succour of Fort Saint-Philip, though even then long after the 
 disembarkation of our troops. 
 
 It must be allowed that the English could scarcely regard 
 as serious an expedition about which so much public talk was 
 made. This was the first time it was ever useful for a 
 government not to know how to keep its secrets. Another 
 incredible fact is that the king had no plan or map of the 
 actual condition of Fort Saint-Philip ; and they proceeded to 
 attack that place on a plan which M. Massonfes, the Spanish 
 ambassador, gave me, which he thought very good ; but which 
 was only that of the old fortress in the days when the 
 Spaniards possessed it. We should never have undertaken 
 the siege of that fortress had we known to what a formidable 
 condition the English had brought it ; therefore its capture 
 may be regarded as a species of miracle. I remember that 
 when M. Duvemey read me the lists of the utensils and 
 implements collected for the siege of Port-Mahon, I said 
 to him: "You have forgotten the most essential thing; 
 add scaling-ladders." This reflection seems prophetic, and 
 
1755-1756] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 225 
 
 did not prove useless, for they took Fort Saint-Philip by- 
 assault. 
 
 After many committee-meetuigs, memorials that I took to 
 them, and intrigues that thwarted my project, it was decided 
 to send the king's Eequisition to the Court of London. I 
 asked the minister of the navy whether the transports and 
 the squadron would be ready by the time the answer of the 
 King of England arrived, and whether, iu case of refusal, we 
 could act immediately, — a condition necessary for success, 
 inasmuch as the enterprise against Minorca was reasonable 
 only so long as it was possible to seize the island before it 
 could be succoured. He assured me that all would be ready 
 in a month. It must be told that, although on the part of the 
 minister of war, all was ready at the time agreed upon, it was 
 not so in the Mediterranean ports ; but M. d'Argenson desired 
 the enterprise, and M. de Machault did not [M. de Machault 
 was Keeper of the Seals and minister of the navy also]. 
 
 As soon as the king's Eequisition had started, I urged the 
 appointment of the generals who were to command on the 
 coasts of the ocean and the Mediteranean. The Mar^chal 
 de Belleisle was chosen for the Western coast, and I contrib- 
 uted much to the selection of Mar^chal de Eichelieu for that 
 of the South. In consequence of these appointments great 
 movements of troops took place, and many transports were 
 collected in the ocean ports ; but the naval preparations in the 
 Mediterranean for the attack on Minorca were very slow and 
 few in number. Part of the ministry flattered themselves 
 that England would seize the means offered her by the king 
 for peace; and, in fact, if the Court of London had not 
 resolved on war it would not have rejected so reasonable an 
 offer of conciliation. But its course was already determined, 
 and it was counting on an enterprise, then unknown, which 
 was to make us lose Canada. In France, on the contrary^ 
 
 VOL. I. — 15 
 
226 MEMOIRS Airo LETTERS OF [chap. vi. 
 
 the English were thought to be pacific because we were so 
 ourselves. 
 
 A courier was sent to Mar^chal de Belleisle who was 
 then at Bisi bidding adieu to the Due de Nivernais, who was 
 starting for Berlin. The mar^chal came at once to Court, 
 being wholly ignorant of the king's Eequisition and the 
 project of attacking Minorca. The king ordered me to in- 
 form him of this affair. M. de Belleisle was not then in 
 the Council, but he entered it shortly after in place of 
 Mar^chal de Noailles. After the taking of Minorca Mare- 
 chal de Belleisle allowed his friends to say that he was the 
 author of the plan of that expedition ; M. de Machault, by a 
 few cold words, sustained that idea, and quite recently the 
 ill-informed author of the " Political Testament of the Mar4- 
 chal de BeUeisle " has attributed to him all that merit. I 
 do not deny that others besides myself may have had the 
 idea of attacking Minorca, but the plan that was followed 
 for the taking of that island belongs to me alone. 
 
 As long as the affair seemed a doubtful one, I was blamed 
 for being its instigator; when it succeeded, my credit for 
 the plan was disputed. When the answer from England 
 arrived, and her refusal made war certain, I was not, as the 
 saying is, " fit to throw to the dogs ; " and the ministers 
 reproached one another for having listened to the counsel of 
 a young man; even Mme. de Pompadour thought herself 
 obliged to console me for the little success of my memorial. I 
 told her that I did not need consolation ; that I had all along 
 expected the refusal of England, because I had better known 
 her intentions. I assured Mme. de Pompadour that she 
 would soon see the good effect produced in all the Courts of 
 Europe by the king's Eequisition ; that it was only neces- 
 sary that she should urge the departure of the troops for 
 the attack on Minorca, and that she must not worry 
 
1755-1756] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 227 
 
 herself at what they might think at Versailles of my 
 projects. 
 
 The result was that Em'ope applauded the moderation of 
 the king ; and if all wishes were not in our favour, at any 
 rate we had all the votes, and the blame fell on England 
 only. The king's Council then began to do justice to my 
 views. But the minister of the navy would not hasten his 
 preparations; the secret of the expedition got wind; the 
 affair was actually talked of three months before it was 
 undertaken. M. de Eichelieu spit fire and flame ; he feared, 
 with good reason, that the English would forestall him. I 
 made him resolve to start for Marseille, telling him that his 
 presence could alone hasten the preparations. 
 
 In point of fact, his activity triumphed over the slowness 
 of the navy, the indiscretions of the government, and the 
 negligence of the English. The rest is well known. Mar^- 
 chal de Eichelieu, after the successful battle of M. de la 
 GalissonniSre against the English fleet, had no fear that 
 Port-Mahon could be succoured for a long time ; but he did 
 not advance very much in the taking of Fort Saiut-Philip. 
 I have already said that if we had known the strength of 
 that fortress, we should never have determined to attack it. 
 It is perhaps the first time in our history that the ignorance 
 of a ministry has been useful to the State. Mar^chal de 
 Eichelieu, rightly judging that he would have difficulty 
 in reducing Eort Saint-Philip by regular approaches, con- 
 ceived the bold design of carrying it by general assault. 
 This undertaking, almost foolhardy, succeeded by the ex- 
 traordinary valour of his troops, the slackness of the besieged, 
 and especially by the inexperience of Lord Blakeney, to 
 whom, however, the English nation raised a statue to com- 
 memorate his fine defence.^ 
 
 1 See Appendix I. 
 
228 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. vi. 
 
 This success intoxicated France, disconcerted the Court 
 of London, and threw it into consternation ; we made pretty- 
 songs, and believed that ia future it would be as easy to 
 conquer the English as it now was to laugh at them. I 
 ought to have felt more flattered than others by this victory, 
 inasmuch as I was the original author of it, but I saw ia 
 this advantage only a certaia means of ending the war 
 gloriously. I proposed to the king's Council, he being then 
 at Compi^gne, to address a second Eequisition to the Court 
 of London, ia which the king offered peace with the restitu- 
 tion of Miaorca, provided England returned our vessels, 
 sailors, and merchandise, and freed us forever from the stipu- 
 lations of the Treaty of Utrecht ia regard to Dunkerque. 
 
 This action on the part of the king was calculated to 
 cover him with glory, and to secure peace. It seemed to me 
 impossible that England should not accept these pacific 
 propositions; the expedition of General Braddock iato 
 Canada had failed ; the British ministry was harassed, 
 divided, dismayed. By this means the maritime war was 
 at an end, and it was more than likely that the King of 
 Prussia, seeiag us freed from all naval embarrassmeats, 
 would not risk uniting all our forces agaiast him by attack- 
 ing the Courts of Saxony, and Vienna. This monarch had 
 sent to Miaorca Priace Frederick of Wurtemberg, who, on 
 his return, passed through Compi^gne, and scandalized us 
 all by the contemptuous tone ia which he spoke of our 
 troops aad our generals. Dunkerque, freed from its servi- 
 tude, was worth far more to us than Minorca ; Louis XV. 
 would have had the advantage of wiping out the shame of 
 Louis XIV.'s misfortunes ; Europe would have had a long 
 peace ; a million of men would still be liviag ; the peoples 
 would aot have beea exhausted; in a word, the idea was 
 luminous. 
 
1755-1756] CAEDIITAL DE BEENIS. 229 
 
 They laughed at me. When I proposed it the ministers 
 told me that the people of Paris would fling mud in my face if 
 it knew me to be the author of such a project (as if the 
 intoxication of a light-minded populace should rule the 
 Council of a wise king !). In a word, this view was rejected 
 with a species of derision. At the present moment, when 
 we feel all its merits, it is shown to have been valuable ; but 
 when men are at the head of a great State, they ought to be 
 able to see in advance the true point to lay hold of. 
 
 The foreign ministers were informed that I had given 
 this salutary advice; and they congratulated me at Com- 
 j)ifegne, at the king's lever. 
 
 It has been seen that I led the Court of Vienna to a 
 simple treaty of alliance and guarantee. That work ad- 
 vanced far during the months of December, January, and 
 February; by the beginning of March, 1756, only a few 
 difficulties remained to smooth away, when we suddenly 
 learned that the King of Prussia had not only signed, but 
 ratified a convention with the Court of London. This con- 
 vention was all the more alarming to the Court of Vienna, 
 because the Low Countries were not included in the species 
 of guarantee conveyed by that treaty, so that those Countries 
 might be invaded by France, or attacked by England and 
 Prussia, if the Court of Vienna made no arrangement with 
 the Court of Versailles, or that of London, to put them in 
 safety. The empress, in truth, could not remain long ex- 
 posed to this double danger. On the other hand, the king 
 had much reason to complain of his Prussian Majesty, his 
 ally, not only for having negotiated secretly with our 
 enemies, and for ratifying this treaty against our solicita- 
 tions, but especially for trying to deprive the king of a right 
 he had acquired by the treaty of Westphalia, that of coming 
 to the assistance of the princes and States of the Empire 
 
230 MEMOIES AND LETTERS OF [chap. vi. 
 
 when oppressed : a unique riglit, whicli France and Sweden 
 had bought at a cost of much blood and money, and 
 the laborious acquisition of which immortalized Cardinal de 
 Eichelieu, who conceived the project, and Cardinal Mazarin 
 who had the happiness and the ability to conclude it. 
 
 Under these circumstances the Court of Vienna conceived 
 the hope of making the king adopt the first plan proposed 
 by the empress in 1755. The king's Council was of opinion 
 that to calm the anxieties of the empress and gain time, it 
 was well to examine and discuss that first plan, the bad con- 
 duct of the King of Prussia towards us authorizing his Majesty 
 to do so. I was not of that opinion ; I thought it wiser and 
 more decent to make a treaty of neutrality, or one of alliance 
 purely defensive, than to enter upon the negotiation of a 
 plan which the Council had no intention of carrying out. But 
 my voice was not the strongest, for it was the only one on 
 that side ; besides which, I found myself in opposition to the 
 paternal heart of the king, which had long sought means to 
 strengthen the uncertain position of his daughter and her 
 husband, the Duke of Parma. I was therefore charged to 
 declare to M. de Staremberg that the king no longer refused 
 to treat with the empress on her original plan which had 
 previously been rejected. 
 
 The Court of Vienna, having compelled us to make this 
 stride, did not delay proposing to us an arrangement which 
 seemed all the more reasonable because, without changing 
 our system, it secured us reciprocally from war with each 
 other. M. de Staremberg communicated to me the form of a 
 treaty, or convention of neutrality, on which the Austrian 
 Court insisted strongly, in order to remove from its mind all 
 uneasiness as to the Low Countries. "Will it be believed that 
 this proposition was imanimously rejected by the king's 
 Council ? That very Council which did not hesitate to make 
 
1755-1756] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 231 
 
 far more serious engagements with the empress reftised to 
 make a simple agreement of neutrality ! 
 
 Under these circumstances I fell ill ; I was bled several 
 times, — the last time in the foot, when I was wounded in 
 the periosteum. Though HI and crippled, my work did not 
 diminish. To sufferings of the body were added most 
 grievous distresses of a heart capable of friendship. A re- 
 spected and intimate friend of mine [the Comtesse de Eohan] 
 was dying in Paris, and at the same time I lost a niece whom 
 I loved much. I had myself carried to their houses and 
 received their last farewells. That sight, and their deaths, 
 which followed immediately, renewed my illness to the point 
 of making it very serious. It was in the midst of all this 
 anguish that the courier despatched to Vieima with our re- 
 fusal of the treaty of neutrality returned to Paris. 
 
 I shall remember all my life on Good Priday how on that 
 day M. de Staremberg came to tell me the nature of the 
 despatches he had received. I was extremely weak, I had 
 been bled four times ; while in that state the imperial 
 minister declared to me that his Court, justly alarmed at our 
 refusal, demanded as a guarantee of the king's intentions, not 
 only that the agreement of neutrality be signed, but also a 
 treaty of defensive alliance ; in default of which the empress, 
 exposed equally to Prussia and to England, would be obliged, 
 for her own safety, to renew her treaties with her former 
 allies. 
 
 I have said already that I was not permitted to employ a 
 secretary for the work that related to the affairs of Vienna. 
 I therefore wrote for three hours under dictation of M. de 
 Staremberg. That labour done, I began another, lasting four 
 hours, to render account to the king of the bad effect pro- 
 duced in Vieima by the refusal of neutrality; also to M. 
 EouUl^ and the other members of the committee, who were 
 
232 MEMOIRS Am) LETTERS OF [chap. vi. 
 
 dispersed in their country-houses for the Easter holidays. 
 This negotiation lasted a -week, — without my illness, which 
 gave me fever, relaxing for a moment. I wiU say here, in 
 passing, that I have always had more difficulty in negotiating 
 with my own Court than with foreign Courts. I am sur- 
 prised that at this crisis my health sufficed for what I did. 
 
 I succeeded, by these writings, in calming the minds of the 
 ministers and in making them understand that there was no 
 more danger in signing an agreement of neutrality and a 
 treaty of purely defensive alliance with the empress than 
 there had been in signing a treaty of guarantee and alliance 
 which they had resolved to do a month earlier. I was there- 
 fore ordered to declare to M. de Staremberg that in the very 
 first days of my convalescence the last proposals of the em- 
 press would be definitely determined on in a meeting at which 
 the whole Coimcil would assemble. 
 
 my nephews ! for whom alone I write these Memoirs, 
 keep yourselves, so far as it depends on you, from entering 
 upon great public affairs ! Let the knowledge of all that my 
 heart and mind have suffered deter you ; but if your duty 
 calls you there, learn of me with what uprightness, prudence, 
 courage you must conduct yourselves. 
 
 The Treaty of Versailles was signed May 1, 1756.^ I shall 
 say nothing about it ; it is known to all the world. Both 
 sides agreed that it should not be made public until the two 
 crowns had informed the Court of Madrid of its existence. 
 
 The king was never so pleased as at the moment when I 
 went to tell him that M. Eouill6 and I, as his ministers 
 plenipotentiary, had signed the treaty of eternal alliance 
 between himself and the empress ; his Majesty owned to 
 me that this was the completion of the work he had most 
 desired to perform. 
 
 1 See Appendix II. 
 
1755-1756] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 233 
 
 The publication of tlie treaty was not made until we had 
 given notice of it to the Courts of Madrid and Berlin, and 
 after the exchange of ratifications. It is to be remarked 
 that the secret of so long a negotiation had not transpired 
 in any way, despite the vigilance and curiosity of the foreign 
 ministers. At first the treaty made a most favourable im- 
 pression upon France ; it was regarded as a masterpiece of 
 prudence and policy ; the nation desired peace, and it was 
 thought that this alliance gave it and would maintain it. 
 The applause it gained tempted M. Eouilld; his friends 
 and his family declared him to be the author of it. But 
 when the King of Prussia invaded Saxony, and war became 
 certain, they returned the treaty to me in full, and no mem- 
 ber of the Council would admit having had a part in it. 
 
 The foreign Courts, for the most part, looked with jealousy 
 and fear on this union of the two most powerful Houses in 
 Europe. The King of Prussia, to whom the king communi- 
 cated the treaty, did not seem vexed by it. That dissimu- 
 lation failed to reassure me as to the future. His minister, 
 M. de Knyphausen, congratulated me vsrith much politeness. 
 The Court of Turin and all Italy became imeasy and 
 alarmed; Germany shared those feelings; as for England, 
 she did not conceal her vexation, and qualified the alliance 
 as monstrous and unnatural. At Versailles, they regarded 
 the affair as strengthening Mme. de Pompadour's influence 
 and elevating me. From that time, our enemies set to work 
 to break up our union, in which they succeeded eighteen 
 months later. 
 
 I own that, disgusted by the jealousies of the ministry 
 and by M. Eouill^'s obstinacy in concealing from me not 
 only what was happening in the Courts of Europe, but even 
 the instructions which he gave to the ministers of the king 
 in Germany, which conformed so little to the spirit and 
 
234 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. vi. 
 
 letter of the Treaty of Versailles that M. de Staremberg 
 was continually bringing me, and not without reason, most 
 serious complaints, — I own, I say, that all these impediments 
 and inconsistencies made me earnestly desire that the king 
 would let me go and exercise my functions as ambassador 
 in Madrid. I even proposed to leave in the hands of the 
 king a memorial in which I should state the principles by 
 which to direct the conduct of the new plenipotentiary 
 whom the king would select to carry on this important 
 affair. But his Majesty thought that no one was as capable 
 as I to conduct a negotiation which I had had in hand for 
 over a year, and of which I knew all the advantages, incon- 
 veniences, and dangers. His Majesty therefore opposed my 
 departure for Spain and thought that by putting me into 
 the Council he should remedy the provoking practices of 
 M. EouiU^, who could not then keep from me a knowledge 
 of what was happening in the cabinets of Europe nor the 
 LQstructions he was giving to the king's ministers at foreign 
 Courts. His Majesty decided, therefore, that I was to take 
 my seat at the next Council as minister of State. 
 
 Mme. de Pompadour, in speaking to me of this intention 
 of the king, told me that he did not wish to inform the 
 ministers of his determination, but that his Majesty had 
 permitted her to tell M. de Machault, of whom she was 
 sure. I applauded the confidence she had in her friend, 
 but I assured her that that confidence would close the door 
 of the CouncO. against me, redouble M. Eouill4's jealousy, 
 and rouse that of the other ministers. The marquise would 
 not believe it, declaring that M. de Machault had lately 
 said to her that after the death of M. EouUl^ which seemed 
 near at hand, the king would have "a great minister of 
 Foreign Affairs in me." That eulogy did not make me 
 change my opinion ; and I was right, for as soon as M. de 
 
1755-1756] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 235 
 
 Machault received her confidence he sent M. Eouilld to the 
 king to make serious remonstrances and touching jeremiads. 
 That minister represented to his Majesty that he himself 
 had removed him from the navy department to that of 
 Foreign Affairs; that it was dishonouring him and taking 
 from him the confidence of foreigners to make me a minister 
 of State in consequence of the Treaty of Versailles ; that all 
 Europe would see in me the real minister, and in him a 
 figure-head ; that if he had lost the confidence of the king 
 he asked only to retire ; and finally, that, informed as I was 
 in aU matters relating to Spain and the rest of Europe, he 
 could not find at this important crisis any one capable of 
 replacing me. This argument did not convince the king, 
 but it embarrassed him. He reassured M. Eouilld as to his 
 fears and spoke to him with such kindness that the little 
 man thought himself justified in treating me haughtily, and 
 accusing me to my face of an unreasonable ambition which 
 would never be gratified. I was master of myself ; my life 
 at Court had long trained me to patience; I answered, 
 judiciously and firmly, that I had never thought of the 
 place of minister of State; that I did not mind its being 
 taken from me provided the service of the king and my own 
 reputation did not suffer in consequence. 
 
 M. de Machault, the author of this mischief, proposed 
 to me, in order to conciliate matters, that the Marquis 
 d'Aubeterre, then minister at Vienna, should be sent to 
 Spain, and that I should go, clothed with ambassadorial 
 dignities to the Imperial Court. This snare was very 
 shrewd ; if I refused so important an embassy it was easy 
 to present me to the king's mind as an ambitious man, 
 whose project was to govern the Court; consequently I did 
 not hesitate one moment in accepting M. de Machault's 
 proposition, and I asked him to inform Mme. de Pompadour 
 
236 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. vi. 
 
 at once of my acceptance. The marquise, who began from 
 that moment to distmst M. de Machault's sincerity, wished 
 to refuse this expedient; but I made her comprehend the 
 necessity of giving in to it, in order to put the king at his 
 ease and to disarm by this moderation the jealousy of the 
 minister, at any rate, for a while. At the same time I 
 wrote the king a letter, in which I made him see the purity 
 of my intentions, the simple character of my views, and 
 the limit of my ambition. I made him feel that the idea 
 of my entering the Council came from himself, and that, 
 provided his Majesty put me in a position where I could 
 be better informed and less thwarted than I now was, 
 I asked no more. The king was satisfied with my senti- 
 ments and my conduct, but he had much difficulty in 
 renouncing his intention to put me in the Council ; in fact, 
 it was more than three weeks before he could resolve to 
 appoint me to the embassy of Vienna. 
 
 Meanwhile, in the midst of all these intrigues, our ulterior 
 negotiations with Vienna advanced but slowly and with 
 many difficulties. I at last forced the imperial minister to 
 consent that our offensive action should be subordinate to 
 the one case of the King of Prussia being the first to violate 
 the Peace of Ais-la-Chapelle. This will show how just and 
 fair the king was towards his Prussian Majesty, and how 
 destitute of all foundation were the pretexts with which the 
 Berlin Court tried to colour its unjust invasions. 
 
 This first difficulty settled, there remained a host of others 
 to smooth down, as much in regard to the tranquillity of 
 Italy as to that of the Low Countries, and to the objects 
 I had always proposed to myself in the negotiations with 
 the Court of Vienna, namely : uprooting all germs of war 
 between that Court and ours in the present and for the 
 future ; detaching from England her principal allies ; increas- 
 
1755-1756] CARDINAL DE BBENIS. 237 
 
 ing in France harbours, fortresses, resources, and, finally, 
 maritime advantages and positions able to jender uneasy, 
 and even to weaken, the commerce and navy of England. I 
 would that I were permitted to explain this more clearly ; it 
 would then be seen that no minister of France has ever had 
 sounder views, or suggested measures more fitted to secure 
 the tranquillity of Europe, to weaken England, and procure 
 for France solid resources against an inimical power now 
 grown formidable. 
 
 We should, at the same time, reflect on the striking singu- 
 larity offered by the union of two Courts enemies for three 
 centuries and now allied for the last three months; the 
 reciprocal hatreds, the great distrtists were smothered, but 
 suspicions remained which private interests and contending 
 political principles nourished on both sides. This delicate 
 and embarrassing situation for the negotiators required on 
 their part great prudence, patience, and cleverness: these 
 qualities alone would not have sufficed without respective 
 sincerity ; it must be said that both Courts put much into 
 their manner of negotiating with each other. 
 
 During the course of these thorny discussions, we heard 
 from aU sides that the King of Prussia was assembling his 
 forces, preparing magazines, and mounting his artillery. 
 The king's Coimcil, m defiance of M. d'Argenson, per- 
 sisted in regarding these offensive demonstrations as vain 
 threats on the part of the King of Prussia, who was seeking 
 to make himself of importance, they said, and show Europe 
 that the union of the Courts of Versailles and Vienna 
 inspired him with no fear. 
 
 As for me, who, six months earlier, had said to the king's 
 Council that the publication of the Treaty of Versailles 
 would determine the King of Prussia to attack Saxony and 
 Bohemia before the Courts of Vieima and Dresden could 
 
238 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OP [chap. vi. 
 
 take precautions to prevent it, I felt the gravest anxiety for 
 the fate of Saxony and Bohemia. The empress had only 
 from twenty-five to twenty-six thousand men ready to be 
 called into the field; the Electorate of Saxony only eighteen 
 thousand ; the Court of Dresden floated between misplaced 
 confidence and helpless anxiety. 
 
 It was under these circumstances that the King of Prussia 
 presented a singular memorial to the Court of Vienna, in 
 which he asked the empress to declare to him formally that 
 she would not think of attacking him for two years ; and he 
 went on to say that in default of that express declaration he 
 should be under the necessity of forestalling his enemies 
 and dispersing the storm which threatened him. This pro- 
 posal was, it must be allowed, as extraordinary as it was 
 insidting. It was converting the Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, 
 guaranteed by all the European powers, into a two years' 
 truce. Thus the Court of Vienna was very excusable for 
 answering as it did ; but it had only twenty thousand men 
 assembled in camp at Kolin, whereas the King of Prussia 
 had a hundred thousand under arms. It would certainly 
 have been wiser, while calling the attention of the Court of 
 Berlin to the indecency and singularity of its proposal, to 
 have given the king the assurance he demanded; such a 
 course would, at any rate, have postponed the war, given the 
 empress time to assemble her forces, sheltered Saxony from 
 sudden attack, brought the other Courts, whom we desired 
 to unite in our measures, to an explanation, and given our- 
 selves time to make military and financial preparations. 
 The Court of Vienna hastened to reply to the King of 
 Prussia, and did not communicate to us its answer until 
 it was sent. 
 
 This precipitation filled me with distress. I saw that the 
 theatre of war was thrown open before the actors were pre- 
 
1755-1756] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 239 
 
 pared to enter upon the stage. I felt the confusion, disorder, 
 and, possibly, the disasters which would come of so hasty a 
 step. The Court of Vieima excused itself on the ground of 
 the indecency of the King of Prussia's memorial, on its out- 
 raged dignity, and on the danger of giving two years more 
 to its enemy to prepare for war. But the secret motive of 
 this haste was founded on a greater and more essential ia- 
 terest ; the Court of Vienna was now nearly at one with us 
 on all the fundamental points; it therefore hastened to 
 embark the affair for fear lest some event, some circumstance 
 might prevent us from openly taking its side ; it considered 
 that it would never have a finer opportunity to reduce the 
 King of Prussia ; that, the war once begun, negotiations would 
 be keener and more prompt; that the Court of Kussia 
 (which that of Vienna had long been sounding) would decide 
 upon its course more readily after the invasion of Saxony 
 and Bohemia ; that the said invasion would arm the Empire 
 against the King of Prussia and determine France and 
 Sweden (in their capacity as guarantors of the Peace of 
 Westphalia) to come to the succour of the oppressed States ; 
 and, finally, that if the King of Prussia had successes at first, 
 the scene would change through the union of the forces of 
 so many powerful monarchies. 
 
 All these reflections were just, and results proved them 
 so in a great measure ; but it is not less true that the pre- 
 cipitate haste of the Court of Vienna was the real cause of the 
 loss of Saxony and of the battle of Lowositz (October 1, 
 1756) ; and to it must be attributed a part of the misfortunes 
 of the whole war, especially of the distress into which we 
 were thrown in the matter of finance. I do not hesitate, 
 therefore, to assert that the Court of Vienna made, by this 
 action, a capital blunder ; it rushed an affair which might 
 have been settled by time, and in consequence France, Swe- 
 
240 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. ti. 
 
 den, the Empire, and the Court of Vienna were hurried into 
 war while still unprepared for it. 
 
 I shall not relate here the manner in which the King of 
 Prussia comported himself in Saxony, nor the conduct of the 
 King of Poland ; I do not pretend to write the history of 
 the war.i If military maxims excuse the King of Prussia for 
 having besieged the latter prince in Pirna in a time of abso- 
 lute peace, and, after making his army prisoners of war, hav- 
 ing incorporated it into his own; if politically he had the 
 right to force the cabinet of Dresden, to search the archives 
 of that Court for knowledge and motives that might justify 
 his invasion, no reason whatever can excuse the treatment to 
 which he subjected the Queen of Poland and the royal 
 family. 
 
 It is known that the want of resolution of the Saxon army 
 prevented it from joining the Austrian army, of which G-en- 
 eral Brown had led a portion with some ability into the 
 neighbourhood of Pirna, and that this general lost by his own 
 fault the battle of Lowositz when the King of Prussia had no 
 longer any hope of winning it. 
 
 The King of Prussia may be blamed for the invasion, but 
 not for the occupation of Saxony : in the first case he com- 
 mitted an injustice ; in the second he behaved as a general 
 and an able prince, in procuring for himself advantages 
 and military resources without which he would infallibly 
 have succumbed ; the capitulation of Pirna was a fine model 
 to follow for that of Kloster-zeven. In war all is justified 
 by success ; besides the fact that the beaten always pay the 
 forfeit, the temporizers are blamed when they fail, and are 
 often despised by their public and by posterity. It is 
 
 ^For the military history of the Seven Years' War, viewed from the Aus- 
 trian side by one who fought its battles, see the Memoirs of the Prince de 
 Ligue, Vol. V. of the present Historical Series. — Tk. 
 
1755-1756] CAEDINAL DE BERNIS. 241 
 
 shameful to humanity that maxims so unjust should be con- 
 secrated by the history of all ages. 
 
 As soon as the King of Prussia had entered Saxony, the 
 empress claimed from us the twenty-four thousand men stip- 
 ulated for by the Treaty of Versailles. Orders were given 
 to put that body in motion. I was of opinion that we ought 
 to send our German troops at once to the support of the em- 
 press ; adding to them only two French regiments of four 
 battalions each, which could be replaced by two others in 
 every new campaign ; thus we should gradually train to war 
 our whole French infantry, and recruit the twenty-four thou- 
 sand men from the Empire without making a drain upon our 
 provinces. My advice was rejected. M. d'Argenson, miais- 
 ter of war, at heart an enemy to the new system, but who 
 sought to profit by it to enhance his department, wished, by 
 employing aU his forces, to make himself necessary, become 
 firmer in his post, and eclipse his enemy, M. de Machault. 
 He represented that we were now too closely in accord with 
 the Court of Vienna to keep strictly to the Treaty of Ver- 
 sailles ; that the season was too advanced for our twenty-four 
 thousand men to reach Bohemia iu time (which was true); 
 that the corps, marching at this season, would be half de- 
 stroyed before it got there, and could only be fit for action 
 much later ; that our G-erman contingent would give a less 
 good idea of France than our national troops ; that the em- 
 press desired to be served by Frenchmen, of whom she knew 
 the value (this also was true, and, moreover, she well knew 
 that a corps of French troops would be better kept up than 
 one of foreign troops) ; in short, that to send these troops now 
 was to put twenty-four thousand men into the hands of the 
 Court of Vienna as hostages, and make our ulterior arrange- 
 ments more difficult. 
 
 These arguments prevailed ; besides which, the king ar- 
 
 VOL. I. — 16 
 
242 MEMOIRS AOT) LETTERS OF [chap. vi. 
 
 dently desired that the great plan negotiated with the Court 
 of Vienna should be carried out in its entirety. M. de 
 Machault, who had been eager for the whole scheme of the 
 treaties with the empress so long as he believed that the 
 King of Prussia would never enter upon a war, now began 
 to feel differently ; but he no longer had any support in the 
 king's Council. The Mar^chal de Noailles and M. de Sd- 
 chelles had retired from it, also the Marquis de Puysieus. 
 They were replaced by the Marechal de Belleisle, great 
 Prussian at heart, but won over by M. d'Argenson ; the 
 marechal, knowing well, moreover, that a continental war 
 would bring his military talents and experience into activity, 
 was opposed to the temporizing system of M. de Machault. 
 Thus, contrary to my advice, the twenty-four thousand men 
 did not march ; and I was charged with making the impe- 
 rial minister consider this delay satisfactory by a memorial 
 which held out hopes of still greater assistance when we had 
 agreed on certain ulterior objects. The Court of Vienna lent 
 itself to these ideas, and the negotiation resumed its former 
 activity. 
 
 M. de Machault still hoped to avert the land war by 
 demanding sixty-six millions annually for the navy so long 
 as the war should last. They were granted to him as if the 
 king had a fairy wand for the creation of gold. It is to be 
 remarked that the most costly campaign — that during the 
 ministry of M. de Seignelay, when France had nearly two 
 hundred ships of war and frigates — had cost the late king, 
 including the colonies, only twenty-eight millions. I know 
 that costs of living and labour have increased ; but the pay 
 of the soldier and the salary of naval officers remain the 
 same. This operation completed, no ground was left for 
 this shrewd minister (though little versed in great affairs) 
 to make reasonable objection to a land war. 
 
1755-1756] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 243 
 
 The misfortunes of the King of Poland, the tears of his 
 daughter the dauphine, and the loss of the battle of Lowositz, 
 contributed not a little to decide us. The kiag's generosity, 
 his love for his family, the ardour always felt for new- 
 allies, joined to the advantages we and our friends expected 
 to derive from our conventions with the Court of Vienna, 
 combined to make us take the resolution of entering upon a 
 continental war, in case we agreed with the Court of Vienna 
 as to ulterior arrangements. I was ordered to declare to 
 M. de Staremberg that, in case the king decided to act with 
 nearly all Ms forces and those of his allies, the Imperial 
 minister must present as soon as possible a general plan of 
 convention, as much for the sake of his own Court as for us 
 and our allies, — a plan on which we could, within a short 
 time, reach a final decision. 
 
 For the rest, I may say it is demonstrable that the ar- 
 rangements taken with the empress-queen were maturely 
 reflected upon, discussed, and weighed by the king and his 
 Council ; that this great work, for which I was held respon- 
 sible after events, was the work of the king and his min- 
 istry ; and that I myself, being charged as I was with all 
 the labour, was neither relieved nor helped nor protected 
 by any one; that I was constantly refused the means of 
 informing myself of what was happening in Europe; and 
 that when, January 2, 1757, the king finally determined to 
 make me enter the Council of State, he had less in view 
 to reward me for my long and painful labours than to put 
 me in the way of being better informed of his affairs, in 
 order to make me more capable of supporting them against 
 the imperial minister. 
 
 Madame Infanta told me that the king wrote to her at 
 this time a letter in which he said expressly that he 
 could have desired I should serve him a few more years 
 
244 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OE [chap. vi. 
 
 at foreign Courts before entering the Council, but that cir- 
 cumstances obliged him to advance that period in order that 
 I might be in a better position to terminate the important 
 affairs with which I was now charged. 
 
 It was towards the end of the month of December, 1756, 
 that, weary of the eternal jealousy of M. EouilM, the im- 
 pertinences of his wife and his family, and foreseeing that 
 a machine so Ul-mounted would never be solid, I determined 
 to leave to that minister the direction of the definite ar- 
 rangements. I asked seriously to be sent to Vienna to 
 fulfil the functions of my embassy. M. Eouill^ acquiesced 
 with joy ; the king appeared to consent, and he promised 
 me the cordon bleu on the first of January; but, for aU 
 that, he had resolved to appoint me a minister of State, 
 from the same views and with the same reasons as before. 
 I was not informed of this resolution until the evening 
 before New Year's day. Thus, instead of being commander 
 of the Order of the Saint-Esprit, I entered the king's Council, 
 January 2, 1757. 
 
 The Mardchal de Eichelieu, who was serving that year as 
 first gentleman of the Bed-chamber, said to me a quarter 
 of an hour before the king ordered him to call me to 
 enter the Council : " Why, having so much business with 
 the king, don't you ask for the entrees to the chamber ? 
 If you like, I will make the proposal to the king for you." 
 I answered, laughing, that I accepted his offer willingly. 
 He was much astonished a moment later to hear the 
 king say to me, "Abb^ de Bernis, take your seat at the 
 Council" 
 
 Mme. de Pompadour, taught by experience, was careful 
 this time not to impart to M. de Machault my coming 
 ministry. The silence she kept disconcerted the intrigues 
 which would otherwise not have failed to oppose me. 
 
1755-1756] CARDINAL DB BEENIS. 245 
 
 Before going farther, it is necessary to treat separately of 
 what gave rise to a lit de justice, which the king held ia the 
 month of December, 1756, and to give a general idea of 
 the affairs of parliament, by an historical summary of what 
 had taken place there during the last twenty-five years. 
 
246 MEMOIRS AiJD LETTERS OP [chap. vii. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Affairs of Parliament, and what related thereto during my Ministry. 
 
 1732-1758. It is well known that the parliaments of 
 France are never so firm in their principles, nor so heated 
 in their assemblies, as when it is a matter of their inde- 
 pendence of our kings and of the power of the popes, or 
 when they have to debate questions which touch upon 
 religion and ecclesiastical jurisdiction; and that their zeal 
 in this respect flies to arms at the slightest encroachment 
 of the Court of Eome. The latter ought, therefore, to take 
 account of this disposition, and regulate its conduct by it, in 
 all that relates to the Church of France and our liberties. 
 The French clergy also ought never to risk what may rouse 
 the ardent and rather suspicious zeal of the parliaments. 
 The Church has always lost in this conflict of jurisdiction ; 
 the public has need of the parliaments for the administra- 
 tion of justice ; the Court has need of them for the registra- 
 tion of financial edicts. Thus the parliaments wOl always 
 rise above any attack made upon their legitimate rights, 
 just as they will always succumb when they attempt to 
 cross their prescribed limits. I will state presently the prin- 
 ciples that should be followed in the affairs that relate to 
 parliament, and the methods by which that Assembly can 
 infallibly be restrained within the limits of its essential 
 functions. 
 
 Without speaking here of the heat with which King Louis 
 XIV. was made to act in order to obtain from the Court of 
 
1732-1758] CABDINAIi DE BEENIS. 247 
 
 Rome the bull Unigenitus, I shall remark that the ministry 
 of Cardinal de Fleury was perpetually troubled by the mut- 
 ual clashiag of clergy and parliaments in relation to that 
 same bull Unigenitus. "We know what happened in 1732. 
 The king issued, on the 18th of August, a declaration which 
 forbade the parliaments to make repeated remonstrances, 
 under pain of disobedience; it allowed the grand-chamber 
 alone to receive appeals against abuses, take cognizance 
 of ecclesiastical matters, of the liberties of the Gallican 
 church, of the maxims of the kingdom ; but it forbade the 
 grand-chamber from holdiag any deliberation on the above 
 matters except on the requirement of the king's lawyers, or 
 on the proposition of whoever presided over the said grand- 
 chamber ; it deprived also the chambers of inquests and 
 petitions of their freedom to deliberate on any public matter 
 elsewhere than in the general assembly of the chambers ; 
 and it forbade parliament to cease its functions without 
 permission of the king, under pain of disobedience and 
 deprivation of its offices. Parliament refused to enregister 
 the declaration. The king held a lit de justice at Versailles, 
 September 1, 1732, and had the declaration registered. 
 Parliament, on its return to Paris, protested against the 
 registration and insisted on the recall of certain of its exiled 
 members. The king, irritated, exiled one hundred and thirty 
 more September 7. But Cardinal de Fleury, who was pre- 
 paring for war, and who felt that they could neither destroy 
 parliament nor supply its place, and that the kingdom could 
 not long do without the administration of justice, recalled 
 the exiled members without any condition, and the king 
 consented that the effects of his declaration should be 
 suspended. 
 
 We see in what happened then the history of what has 
 happened since; and what will always happen when the 
 
248 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. vii. 
 
 Court acts without a plan, without preparation, and without 
 principles ; it weakens, or at least it compromises the royal 
 authority by acts little reflected on and by indecent retreats. 
 
 After that period. Cardinal de Fleury carefully kept him- 
 self from employing such violent means, and as the idea of 
 the king's authority is graven in France on all minds and all 
 hearts, that authority recovered its rights as soon as they 
 ceased to expose it to the resistance of parliament. In fact, 
 in spite of the nullification of the king's declaration enregis- 
 tered in 1732 at a lit de justice, the king seemed more master 
 than ever of his parliament, until the trouble excited by the 
 certificates of confession \hillets de confession] which the 
 Archbishop of Paris, M. de Beaumont, thought it his duty to 
 exact at deathbeds, the affair of the Hospitals, and that of 
 the Filles Saint-Marie, again lighted the almost extinct 
 embers of discord and fanaticism. 
 
 The protection which the king unwisely gave, by advice of 
 Comte d'Argenson and the Bishop of Mirepoix, to the Arch- 
 bishop of Paris in these matters excited the greatest fermen- 
 tation in the parliaments, was the cause of the attempted 
 assassination of the king by Damiens, January 5, 1757, and 
 has ended by giving to the enemies of the bull Unigenitus 
 an air of victory and triumph. So that the misguided zeal 
 of a few bishops made that bull lose by degrees a part of 
 the protection which the late king Louis XIV. and the 
 reigning king granted to it. 
 
 The open quarrel between Comte d'Argenson and M. de 
 Machault aided much in the anarchy into which the govern- 
 ment fell in consequence of the affairs of the bull. The 
 intrigues of those two ministers set in opposition the clergy 
 to the parliament and the parliament to the clergy ; the 
 direction of affairs concerning those bodies passed, in turn, 
 from one to the other of the two ministers, untU it came at 
 
1732-1758] CARDINAL DB BERNIS. 249 
 
 last into the hands of the Prince de Conti,who set himself to 
 win parliament, and who, by his private work with the king, 
 obtained day by day more respect and more influence in that 
 assembly. 
 
 On the other hand, M. de Maupeou, chief-president, who 
 joined to the talent of eloquence external graces of intrigue 
 and cajolery, led his parliament at the pleasure of the Court 
 just so long as he retaiued the hope given to him of being 
 made Keeper of the Seals ; but as soon as he perceived that 
 this iatention was changed, and that M. de Machault was to 
 have that important post, he comprehended that, having 
 nothing more to expect from the Court, he had no other way 
 to make himself important than to attach himself wholly 
 to parliament, and substitute the firmness of the magistrate 
 for the suppleness of the courtier. 
 
 It was in the midst of this great fermentation that M. 
 de Puysieux gave to the king, as I have already said, my 
 memorial in which I stated the principles that ought to 
 guide the conduct of his Majesty in the affairs relating to 
 the clergy and the parliaments. This memorial will be 
 found among my papers. It foretold what has happened 
 since, and roused a fear of the revival of that fanaticism, 
 as dangerous for the king as for the State, which armed, un- 
 der very different circumstances, the parricide hands of the 
 Clements and Eavaillacs. I called to mind my prediction on 
 the 5th of January, 1757, and I deplored the blindness of a 
 ministry that had precipitated the State into such trouble, 
 for want of foresight and principles of administration. 
 
 AU affairs that can agitate parliament, especially those 
 that concern religion, ought to be smothered at birth and 
 destroyed in their germ whenever men of wisdom in these 
 assemblies, however few in number, are able to quench at 
 its origin the progress of the fire. But when matters have 
 
250 MEMOIRS AKD LETTERS OF [chap. vii. 
 
 once started, judicial forms and methods carry them rapidly 
 along, and a decision once given, the wisest minds find them- 
 selves linked with the hottest heads ; they cannot then, 
 without violent shocks, aholish or reform the decrees of 
 parliament. 
 
 We all remember that in May, 1753, the gentlemen of the 
 courts of inquests and petitions were exiled to various parts 
 of the kingdom, and that two days later the presidents and 
 counsellors of the grand-chamber were transferred to Pon- 
 toise by lettre de cachet. The refusal of the sacraments, or- 
 dered, often improperly, by the Archbishop of Paris, had 
 caused parliament to issue injunctions to administer them : 
 both sides passed their due limits ; but was the king well- 
 advised to exile his parliament ? He attempted in vain to 
 replace it by the creation of a royal chamber, the work of 
 M. d'Argenson, which the other ministers did much to dis- 
 credit. 
 
 It is impossible to exile and supersede the parliament 
 of Paris without all the other parliaments in the kingdom 
 espousing its cause ; hence it would be necessary to suppress 
 them all; but what rash head would dare to give that 
 coimsel to the king ? What disturbance would be caused 
 to the whole machinery of the State if it came to that! 
 Into what anarchy would affairs be plunged ! Where find 
 the necessary money to buy back the offices? and even 
 if money could be had, who would dare to resolve on 
 striking so great a blow without having the means ready 
 to supply by other tribunals the functions of the parlia- 
 ments ? What tribunal already established would be will- 
 iag to take charge of them ? Could new tribunals be 
 composed of magistrates drawn from companies ? Would such 
 magistrates be trained in affairs belonging to the jurisdiction 
 of the parliaments ? Before they had acquired the necessary 
 
1732-1758] CARDINAL DB BERNIS. 251 
 
 knowledge and experience how could justice be rendered 
 to the king's subjects ? Besides, would the public have any 
 confidence in the new tribunals, at any rate imless they 
 showed the same firmness and the same principles as the 
 suppressed parliaments ? So that the king would meet with 
 more opposition in the parliaments of his new creation than 
 in the former ones. You cannot destroy in a day bodies 
 which have sent such deep roots into the very foundations 
 of the monarchy. Is it to be supposed that the king could 
 try and judge in his Council all the contentious affahs of 
 the kingdom? or that the registration of his edicts done 
 by his own Council would fail to inspire fear and great 
 distrust in his provinces and his subjects ? or that this 
 passage from monarchy to despotism could take place 
 tranquilly and without danger ? No ! The king, after being 
 siifficiently enlightened, must be master of his kingdom; 
 without which, anarchy and confusion, disorder and trouble 
 would infallibly reign and the State would be ia danger; 
 but it is necessary to put a curb on the despotism of 
 ministers, to enlighten at times their ignorance, to rectify 
 their blunders, to remedy the caprices of favourites, to prop 
 their failures, to guard the weakness of their government 
 agaiast imdertakings from within and without. 
 
 When the king no longer lacks money he will have 
 no need of his parliaments; they will not then prevail 
 through their compliance or their resistance. Thus it is 
 of consequence to regulate the finances, to refraiu from 
 overtaxing the people, to avoid unnecessary expenses, in 
 order not to be obliged to have frequent recourse to the 
 registration of bursal edicts. When the people are not 
 oppressed, when the course of law and justice is not inter- 
 rupted by storms at Court and fermentations in parliament, 
 the public in France is always for the king ; the distinctive 
 
252 MEMOIRS AM) LETTERS OF [chap. vii. 
 
 characteristic of the nation is to love its master, to respect 
 his authority, to defend him against all, provided that 
 authority does not treat the people with rigour. 
 
 But pains must be taken to govern the parliaments and 
 to prevent the storms that arise there. By a few deserved 
 distinctions, by confidence, by concert of feeling, it would be 
 easy to maintain the calmness and subordination of those 
 great bodies. For it must be said, to the praise of the magis- 
 tracy, that it is the part of the nation which has preserved 
 the best morals and the most integrity; all things can be 
 done with it by gentleness, by wisdom, by conforming to 
 rules and system. What strange abuse of power it has been 
 to force the king to act always by authority ! Do we not 
 feel that instead of increasing that authority, which is 
 so necessary, it is weakened by enterprises that have often 
 proved ineffectual ? 
 
 The whole secret of legitimate and recognized authority 
 consists in never compromising itself, and, consequently, 
 in estimating correctly the resistance that projects may 
 encounter in execution. But in 1753 the king's Council 
 was far indeed from that opinion and much opposed to such 
 wise maxims. 
 
 Parliament was relegated from Pontoise to Soissons; it 
 was recalled to Paris in August, 1754, without any condi- 
 tions, which further weakened public opinion, not of the 
 authority of the king, but of that of his administration. The 
 Prince de Conti had much to do with this return of parlia- 
 ment, and with the declaration of the king ordering silence 
 on matters of religion and enjoining parliament to take in 
 hand the enforcement of this silence, so necessary to the 
 welfare of religion and the tranquillity of the State, and 
 see that it was neither troubled nor broken on either side. 
 This declaration was sent to parliament and registered Sep- 
 
1732-1758] CARDINAL DB BBENIS. 253 
 
 tember 4, 1754; it was a criticism on the whole course 
 of the rrn'm'stry up to that tirae. 
 
 I have already remarked that it would have been very wise 
 in the king to establish that law if his Majesty had himself 
 undertaken to execute it; but it was certainly an impru- 
 dence and even a contradiction to have made parliament the 
 sole and absolute judge of the respective infringers of silence. 
 We must, however, allow that the law was wise, and that 
 it did restrain the two parties up to a certain point. 
 A short calm succeeded all these tempests; the Eoyal 
 chamber [substituted for parliament], decried equally by 
 the Court and the public, was abolished in September, 
 1754; but the refusals of the sacraments stHl continued, 
 and the king, in order to withdraw the Archbishop of 
 Paris from the proceedings of parliament, exiled him to 
 Conflans. 
 
 The assembly of the clergy held in Paris in May, 1755, 
 was remarkable. Cardinal de La Eochefoucauld, who pre- 
 sided, and was given that same year the ministry of 
 benefices, was the head of this famous assembly. The 
 bishops were divided on the great question, namely : was the 
 refusal to accept the bull TJnigenitus a mortal sin, or merely 
 a sin of grave import? Sixteen bishops were of the first 
 opioion, and seventeen of the second.^ This division scan- 
 dalized the public and considerably weakened the strength 
 of the clergy, which consists chiefly in its union. Pope Ben- 
 edict XIV. was consulted by both parties, and the Comte de 
 StainvUle, afterwards Due de Choiseul, was charged to ob- 
 tain from the pope an encyclical letter settling the principles 
 of this matter in relation to the conduct which it behooved 
 
 1 For a fairly dispassionate account of what the bull TJnigenitus really 
 was, and how it originated, see the " Memoirs of the Due de Saint-Simon," 
 Vols. I.-IV. of this ffistorical Series. — Te. 
 
254 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OE [chap. vii. 
 
 bishops and rectors to follow in the administration of the 
 sacraments to those opposed to the bull Unigenitus. 
 
 If the letter of that wise and learned pontiff had remained 
 such as he first conceived it, nothing could have been clearer 
 or more decisive ; but the fear of alarming the party of the 
 over-zealous bishops caused the insertion into the letter of 
 generalities which gave the Archbishop of Paris and other 
 prelates occasion to find in it an approval of their conduct. 
 It must be admitted, however, that this letter has certainly 
 moderated the too ardent zeal of some and sustained the too 
 timid courage of others, and that the peace of the Church 
 has gained something by it. If Cardinal de La Eoche- 
 f oucauld had lived longer, and if he, who added to the ad- 
 vantage of illustrious birth social and ecclesiastical virtues, 
 a dignified presence, and a desire for good, had had a little 
 more force of character, much might have been hoped from 
 his influence on the affairs of the Church. 
 
 The exile of the Archbishop of Paris to Conflans had 
 re-established a sort of tranquillity in parliament ; but the 
 hostilities of England, which foreboded war, having forced 
 the government to increase its financial resources, M. de 
 Machault insisted obstinately on the levying of the two 
 vingti^mes in preference to the dixihme. The latter tax would 
 have been voted unanimously by parliament, which feared, 
 with good reason, that after peace was made one of the 
 vingtiimes would be kept on under various pretexts, and so 
 become a lasting burden on the people. 
 
 Parliament refused to register the edict ; minds became 
 heated ; and we saw the revival in a moment of the former 
 fermentation of the parliaments. From that time their 
 union grew closer, the boldest doctrines were developed in 
 their remonstrances ; the system of a single parliament in 
 Prance, of which each of the parliaments should be a portion 
 
1732-1758] CARDINAL DB BERNIS. 255 
 
 or special class, was clearly developed and stoutly sustained. 
 They began to discuss the mystery of " the incarnation of 
 parliament with the king, and the species of production or 
 emanation of the sovereign power resulting from that 
 wonderful union." The Court was indignant at such prin- 
 ciples, and alarmed at the sort of league which was beginning 
 to be formed between the different parliaments of the king- 
 dom. But without refuting solidly such novel maxims, it 
 contented itself with registering the edict of the two ving- 
 tiemes at a lit de justice held at Yersailles, at which M. de 
 Maupeou, chief-president, spoke with the greatest force and 
 made his hearers face " stupendous evils." 
 
 At this period the heat of the parliamentary assemblies, 
 becoming hotter by degrees, communicated itself to the 
 public, and this unbridled license made thoughtful minds 
 afraid of some catastrophe. Our enemies conceived the 
 greatest hopes from such an effervescence of spirits, and I 
 know, in a manner not to be doubted, that England set 
 everything at work, intrigues and money, to inflame these 
 first germs of discord. The whole of the year 1756 was 
 marked by actions which showed the discontent of the par- 
 liaments and the murmurings of the people ; but in Paris 
 especially the government was criticised in society with an 
 indecency and boldness of language which the silence of the 
 Court seemed to authorize. 
 
 The Keeper of the Seals, who was working in secret to 
 pacify the clergy and put a curb on the parliaments, com- 
 posed with two or three magistrates certain edicts and decla- 
 rations which were to be registered at a lit de justice. This 
 minister thought the work so promising that he would not 
 share the glory of it with his colleagues. I can say that if 
 it had not been for me these edicts would have gone to the 
 lit de justice without being examined by his Majesty's 
 
256 MEMOIRS AST) LETTERS OE [chap. vii. 
 
 Council. This blind confidence was the first cause of the 
 downfall of the Keeper of the Seals, and also the cause, or 
 the occasion, of a much greater evil. It is rash to attempt 
 suddenly, by the employment of force and authority, to chain 
 up the most vigorous and most powerful bodies in the State. 
 
 I was not informed until two days before the lit de justice 
 of the bold enterprise of M. de Machault. Mme. de Pompa- 
 dour informed me, December 11, 1756, of a document, pre- 
 pared in the cabinet of that minister, which the king was to 
 take before parliament on the 13th to be enregistered at a lit 
 de justice. The marquise, biased in favour of her friend, be- 
 lieved the success of this affair infallible. I made her feel the 
 impropriety and the danger of it ; she began to see with what 
 imprudence they had proceeded in an affair of that nature. 
 They expected that the masters of inquests and petitions 
 would send in their resignations, but they hoped that the 
 grand-chamber would remaia faithful and be sufficient for 
 the whole work of parliament ; they felt fully assured of the 
 faithfulness of that chamber, that the Chatelet would con- 
 tinue its functions, that the lawyers and barristers would 
 not shut the doors of their offices, and that the other parlia- 
 ments of the kingdom would refrain from making common 
 cause with that of Paris. I made her comprehend the 
 emptiness of these illusions. I showed her that the Keeper 
 of the Seals was compromising the king and compromising 
 herself in risking so perilous an enterprise without having 
 previously communicated it to the Council of his Majesty. 
 
 The king, who saw the justice of these reflections, re- 
 solved, though the letters-patent for the lit de justice had 
 already been sent to President de Maupeou, to have his 
 Council examine the declarations and the edicts on the 
 following day. The Council, consulted at such a late 
 moment, merely observed that the affair was already under 
 
1732-1758] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 257 
 
 way, that had they been eonsiilted earlier they might have 
 had important reflections to make, hut as it was, they could 
 only hope for the success of the lit de justice. Thus the 
 ministers flung back upon the Keeper of the Seals the 
 iniquity of a work of which they would have appropriated 
 all the merit in case of success. M. d'Argenson was the 
 secret instigator of this unworthy act on the part of the 
 Council. I should remark here that the Keeper of the Seals, 
 out of hatred and jealousy of President Maupeou, had never 
 consented to consult with him. The latter, indignant at 
 this contempt, followed an artful conduct in the course of 
 this affair, of which, however, he was the dupe some years 
 later, as we shall presently see. 
 
 The king started, December 13, 1756, to hold his lit de 
 justice in Paris. The capital received him in gloomy silence, 
 and parliament with a half-formed intention of quitting its 
 functions. The declaration concerning the affairs of religion 
 was merely an interpretation of the law as to silence, and 
 the king spoke of the characteristics and effects of the 
 bull Unigenitus in a manner that was too theological, and 
 not sufficiently correct. This declaration, so far, was not 
 likely to meet with any difficulty in parliament ; but the 
 mil Tig that changed the internal discipline of that body 
 was certain to excite the very deepest opposition. 
 
 The whole was registered by authority. The lit de justice 
 over, nearly all the magistrates who composed the parlia- 
 ment gave in their resignation to the chief-president, who 
 made no great resistance to arrest a step so injurious to the 
 king, and so prejudicial to the public ; a small number of 
 the presidents and counsellors of the grand-chamber promised 
 to fulfil their functions ; but how could so small a number 
 do the work of the whole body ? 
 
 The king went off to the chateau de la Muette, and all 
 
 VOL. I. —17 
 
258 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. vii. 
 
 the ministers dispersed to their country-houses. The start- 
 ling character of the course taken by parliament enlightened 
 the Keeper of the Seals, and made him see the depth of 
 the abyss into which he had plunged the State and him- 
 self ; his courage began to abandon him, and M. d'Argenson 
 then saw the ruia of his rival secured. The trouble became 
 extreme in Paris; when parliament ceases its functions 
 some twenty thousand persons are brought to the verge of 
 famine; the race of attorneys and scribes is intermediate 
 between the bourgeoisie and the people, and its agitation 
 soon stirred the whole of Paris. 
 
 Mme. de Pompadour, three days after the holding of the 
 lit de justice, sent me an express asking me, from the king, 
 for my opinion as to the conduct that should be adopted 
 under the circumstances. I answered that it was necessary 
 to do to-day what they would be compelled to do six months 
 hence, and then with much greater annoyance and difficulty; 
 that the king ought to send for the chief-president, order 
 him to re-assemble parliament in the grand-chamber, and 
 declare to the assembly that his Majesty willed him to tear 
 up in their presence all the resignations, and leave no 
 vestige of so precipitate an action, one so contrary to the 
 oath which each member of parliament had taken, and so 
 opposed to the spirit of the magistracy, and to the respect 
 that was due to the king ; that his Majesty was very willing 
 to regard this act as one of mistaken zeal ; that he ordered 
 his parliament to resume its usual functions, and, as, he 
 desired to be enlightened, he would receive the representa- 
 tions of his parliament on the laws he had just given. 
 
 That course would have saved all ; a few changes would 
 have been made in the edicts and declarations, and all 
 things would have returned to their accustomed order. 
 The king and his Council at first approved of so reasonable 
 
1732-1758] CARDINAL DB BERNIS. 259 
 
 an action, but a ministerial intrigue prevented its adoption. 
 The confusion and license then became extreme, and on the 
 fifth of January, 1757, the attempt to assassinate the king 
 took place (I shall speak of that horrible event later). 
 
 The assassination of the king determined a great number 
 of the counsellors and presidents of parliament to write 
 a pathetic letter to the chancellor, begging him to say to 
 his Majesty that, solely occupied by their grief, moved only 
 by the desire to please him, and give him marks of their 
 zeal, they were ready to resume their functions : this first 
 decent and very proper letter I have seen and read. But an 
 ambitious magistrate, acting in collusion with an intriguing 
 minister, caused this first letter to be changed, and replaced 
 by a second, which was much less becoming than the first. 
 The king's Council discussed what answer should be made 
 to the letter. I insisted strongly that the chancellor should 
 answer favourably on the king's behalf, without quibbling 
 over equivocal expressions; the serious interests involved 
 being of more importance than the form. My opinion was 
 opposed by the plurality ; it even gave me, with some of the 
 Court, an air of being too favourable to parliament. In a 
 word, it was decided, against all policy and prudence, that 
 the chancellor should reply with a haughtiness and stiffness 
 that chilled the zeal of the magistrates, and gave rise to an 
 anarchy which reigned in public matters from that time 
 until September, 1757. 
 
 How could intrigue prevail to such a point against sense 
 and reason ? We were in the midst of a maritime war ; we 
 were about to throw ourselves into a continental war; we 
 had no money ; we dared not leave the people to suffer, the 
 city of Paris in agitation, all the parliaments of France 
 in a ferment; and yet, here we were depriving ourselves 
 of the indispensable help of financial edicts at a time when 
 
260 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OE [chap. vii. 
 
 the iing was taliing upon himself the most costly engage- 
 ments ! The ministers went farther still ; they proposed to 
 the king (in spite of the resistance I made to so unjust and 
 useless an action) to select from among the magistrates who 
 had given their resignations sixteen of those most distui- 
 guished for their talents, and these were exiled and punished 
 personally for what was the fault of all; and, moreover, 
 they roused his Majesty to declare publicly that these sixteen 
 magistrates would never be allowed to resume the functions 
 of their office. What blunders ! what imprudence ! Each 
 minister thought himself authorized to negotiate with parlia- 
 ment ; M. Berryer, of the council of despatches, and the 
 chief-president, agreeing in public, but secretly rivals, broke 
 up all the measures of the other negotiators to arrogate to 
 themselves the honour of the affair; both aspired to the 
 office of Keeper of the Seals, and both enjoyed the confi- 
 dence of Mme. de Pompadour. 
 
 As for me, who had never lived among men of the long 
 robe, I was reduced to giving my opinion in the Council; 
 but before long several distinguished members of parliament 
 addressed themselves personally to me. The first who came 
 to see me was a counsellor named Mercier de la Eiviere, 
 since intendant of Martinique ; he had good intentions and 
 talents, but not much influence in the Assembly. MM. 
 M0I4 Joly de Fleury, and d'Ormesson opened themselves 
 to me soon after with as much zeal and more resources. 
 They represented to me the necessity of calling parliament 
 together ; they assured me that the assembly was disposed 
 to place great confidence in me, through the opinion of my 
 integrity and loyalty which I had won from the public. 
 The king allowed me to treat with these magistrates ; mean- 
 time M. de Moras, controller-general, M. de Maupeou, M. 
 Berryer, and several others, not counting the Prince de Conti 
 
1732-1758] CAEDINAL DB BEENIS. 261 
 
 (wlio had hitherto been the man between the king and 
 parliament), were entangling their negotiations, or rather 
 intrigues, which crossed, re-crossed, and contradicted one 
 another, and had no other result than to lower the royal 
 authority. 
 
 However, my negotiation with M. Mol^, President d'Or- 
 messon, and the solicitor-general began to take colour. I 
 obtained permission from the king for the members of 
 parliament to assemble at the houses of their seniors, and 
 thence to issue a species of declaration manifesting the 
 desire they had to resume their functions and to give the 
 king proof of their zeal and obedience. This memorial was 
 drawn up and approved by the greater number of the 
 counsellors and was brought to me by President Mol^ for 
 presentation to the king. His Majesty seemed satisfied 
 with it; but I made him observe that the expressions at 
 the end were not sufficiently respectful ; it was a question 
 of changing them, and this was agreed to; but the chief- 
 president, who did not wish that MM. Mol4, d'Ormesson, 
 and de Fleury should have the honour of terminating so im- 
 portant an affair, sent missives everywhere advising that 
 nothing be changed, as they were already assured of the 
 king's approbation. This miserable intrigue made my ne- 
 gotiation a failure. 
 
 I then advised the king to forbid his ministers from 
 treating in future with the members of parliament, in order 
 to cut, for a time, the root and branch of so many intrigues, 
 and to resume negotiations later under better auspices and 
 with more dignity. The anarchy in civil matters then 
 began again ; the lawyers refused to plead, and the grand- 
 chamber concerned itself with nothing but the Damiens 
 affair and the return of its members. 
 
 This was the situation when in July, 1757, M. BouUongne, 
 
262 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. vii. 
 
 who had succeeded M. de Moras as controller-general of 
 the finances, having no longer any resources with which 
 to meet the costs of the war and the subsidies, made the 
 king feel the absolute necessity of caUiug parliament to- 
 gether ia order to register the financial edicts and procure 
 the iudispensable money. What I had foreseen happened ; 
 they were now forced to do what I had proposed they should 
 do of their own free will three days after the lit de justice 
 in 1756. His Majesty charged me with arranging the 
 affair of assembling parliament with the presidents Mol^ 
 and d'Ormesson and the king's lawyers. 
 
 I succeeded in reuniting parliament by the simplicity 
 of the plan I followed, by the solidity of the principles 
 from which I started, and by the truth and candour with 
 which I negotiated with the four magistrates I have already 
 mentioned. It must be said, to their praise, that they put 
 great zeal for the State and a probity worthy of their 
 character and their office into this affair, on which depended, 
 I dare to say so, the safety of the State; for England 
 regarded the cessation of our courts of law and our intestinal 
 discords as powerful auxiliaries in the war she was making 
 upon us, and I have the proof that she spared neither 
 money nor intrigues to increase the heat of our divisions. 
 It was to be expected that the other parliaments would 
 cease to administer justice if the king did not reinstate in 
 their offices the dismissed members and the sixteen exiled 
 counsellors. Everybody knew that the necessary resources 
 to support the war and meet indispensable expenditures 
 would come to an end in a very short time. It was in this 
 critical situation that I formed my plan. Here are the 
 simple principles on which I relied: — 
 
 Parliament has force only through that of the voice of the 
 people ; the fermentations in its assemblies are nothing if 
 
1732-1758] CARDINAL DE BBRNIS. 263 
 
 not supported by a putlic fermentation. Therefore the 
 Court, by convincing the public of the justice and kindness of 
 the king, disarmed the parliaments. As soon as Paris says 
 that the king is right, parliament has to obey ; its resistance 
 is not only useless, but it becomes as irritating to the public 
 as it has been to the Court. Parliaments must yield as soon 
 as they are abandoned by the public. This truth, confirmed 
 by experience, determined me to fix upon a plan, in concert 
 with the three magistrates I have already named, analogous 
 to those principles. 
 
 The king had consented formally, though with regret and 
 from necessity, to the return of the sixteen exiled members. 
 Either he had to break all the treaties he had contracted 
 with the chief powers of Europe and withdraw his armies 
 from Germany, or he must obtain money to support them 
 and to pay the agreed subsidies. The controller-general, M. 
 Boullongne, whose genius was neither fruitful nor very en- 
 lightened, saw no resource except in the verification and 
 registration of financial edicts. Parliament must, therefore, 
 be re-established. But that assembly would have refused 
 the registration of the edicts so long as its sixteen members 
 were exHed, or at any rate until a pledge was given for their 
 return. The king was therefore forced to grant that hope ; 
 I obtained that it should depend on the good-will of the 
 king, and that the time of the recall of the sixteen should 
 not be fixed. This point was difficult to settle, because all 
 the magistrates distrusted the Court and feared that after 
 they had obeyed the king's wHl their colleagues would be 
 left to languish in exile unless a period were fixed for their 
 return. But I threatened to abandon the negotiation if they 
 did not consent to make it in keeping with the power and 
 independence of his Majesty. 
 
 It was agreed that the king should order his parliament 
 
264 MEMOIES AND LETTEES OF [chap. vii. 
 
 to assemble on such a day in its grand-cliamber ; that the 
 king's lawyers should then carry to it a lettre de cachet, com- 
 manding parliament to be at Versailles at a certain hour on 
 the same day, to listen to the king's orders. The sending of 
 the king's lawyers and the tenor of the lettre de cachet were 
 to remain secret ; and, above all, the chief-president was not 
 to be informed until he had actually taken his seat in the 
 chamber ; this secrecy was carefully observed, and it saved 
 the affair. When the members of the grand-chamber reached 
 Versailles the chancellor was to pronounce in the king's 
 name a discourse in which his Majesty would speak more as 
 a father than as a master ; and while this was going on at 
 Versailles immense quantities of the chancellor's speech 
 were to be distributed in Paris, even in the caf^s, theatres, 
 and on the public promenades, in order that Paris, before the 
 return of parliament, should have time to change its opinion 
 on the inflexibility of the Court and do justice to the kind- 
 ness and good intentions of the king ; so that parliament, 
 returning to the grand-chamber, should find the scene changed 
 and the disposition of the public mind totally reversed. I 
 knew that such a revolution is the work of a moment 
 when excitement has passed and lassitude begins to take its 
 place ; all men are susceptible of these variations, but French- 
 men more than others. 
 
 That is the simple machinery on which I built my edifice 
 of a negotiation on the success of which depended the fate 
 of the war and the internal tranquillity of the nation. 
 
 I did not doubt that in changing the opinion of Paris the 
 resistance of parliament would be brought to an end. I 
 even announced it to the king, who had not much faith, 
 neither had Mme. de Pompadour, in the success of my nego- 
 tiation. The draft of the discourse to be delivered by the 
 chancellor, M. de Lamoignon (man of integrity, frank, and 
 
1732-1758] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 265 
 
 good citizen), was determiaed on; also the tenor of the 
 lettre de cachet which the king's lawyers were to deliver to 
 the assembly in the grand-chamber. But meantime in- 
 trigues were multiplying, the minds of the parliament grew 
 more and more bitter, until at last the fermentation became 
 so violent that my three negotiators lost heart on the eve of 
 the battle. In fact, it all seemed desperate. When the 
 session in the grand-chamber was called, members took 
 oaths not to be present, and to refuse to deliberate. I was 
 warned by couriers of this excitement, and I went to Paris 
 at once to reassure the generals of my little army. I heard 
 from them that no one as yet knew that parliament was to 
 be summoned to Versailles, and also that the coming speech 
 of the chancellor was still unrevealed. " You think all is 
 lost, gentlemen," I said to them ; " but to-morrow all will be 
 won." They told me afterwards that they were astonished 
 at my courage ; for if the affair had failed they were lost, 
 and I should equally have lost my credit and influence. I 
 was at that moment charged with the affairs of Europe, and 
 the events of a war of which I was thought to be the author 
 rolled entirely upon me. 
 
 The crisis came the next day, September 1, 1757 ; it was 
 most violent, both at Court and in parliament. M. Berryer 
 gave Mme. de Pompadour to understand that the king must 
 order the discourse of the chancellor to be examined before 
 it was delivered, that very day, to parliament. MM. 
 d'Argenson and de Machault had been exiled some months ; 
 the Council was not numerous, nor was it favourable to 
 the negotiation I had now brought so near to its goal, and, 
 against the advice of the chancellor, that of M. de Saint- 
 riorentin and my own, it voted by a plurality to change the 
 whole form of the discourse, to make it threatening instead 
 of paternal; they desired to make Louis XIV. speak, not 
 
266 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. vii. 
 
 Henri IV. ; instead of soothing minds in Paris and in parlia- 
 ment it seemed as if they were resolved to exasperate them. 
 
 At nine o'clock in the morning these corrections were 
 made. Parliament was to be at Versailles at five in the 
 afternoon ; the whole safety of the affair lay in the modera- 
 tion of the speech of the chancellor. I took good care not 
 to let my negotiators ia Paris know of this total upsetting 
 of all our measures ; but I profited by certain bad news 
 which arrived from the grand-chamber to persuade the king 
 to replace the speech of the chancellor in its first integrity. 
 
 In truth, from hour to hour, the news grew worse ; the 
 excitement in the chamber was very great. M. de Maupeou 
 seemed endeavouring to pacify the clamour, but did not suc- 
 ceed. The king, to whom I reported aU that was taking 
 place, repeated to me constantly, " I told you you were 
 too confident." At last the king's lawyers entered the grand- 
 chamber, and the deputation was appointed. It was then 
 that I decided the chancellor and M. de Saint-Florentin to 
 go to the king and represent to him that it was playing the 
 State on a toss-up, and risking all for a few pedantic phrases, 
 to change the tenor of the speech. I accompanied them, 
 and spoke with such force that the king yielded, after the 
 dauphin, who had been much opposed up to that moment to 
 the negotiation, had given his opinion, and that opinion was 
 very wise. Thus the speech I had concerted with the three 
 members of parliament was again resolved upon, and couriers 
 distributed about Paris three thousand copies of it as soon as 
 the deputation from parliament had started for Versailles.^ 
 
 The deputation listened to the speech in gloomy silence ; 
 after it was over not a word could they be made to say. But 
 when parliament met again after the return of its deputation 
 the scene had changed ; by that time it was openly said in 
 
 1 See Appendix III. 
 
1732-1758] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 267 
 
 Paris that if parliament did not respond to the king's kind- 
 ness it deserved his indignation and that of the people. The 
 wiser heads were then enabled to get control over the excited 
 ones; parliament resumed its functions and ordered repre- 
 sentations to be made on the third declaration, concerning 
 the interior discipline of the assembly ; the two other dec- 
 larations remained untouched and were executed according 
 to their form and tenor. 
 
 The king replied that he would willingly receive the 
 memorials his parliament would address to him on the sub- 
 ject of his third declaration ; these memorials were never 
 presented, and things returned, in this respect, to just what 
 they were before the holding of the lit de justice. Hence it 
 results that the will of the king is in a great measure 
 executed. 
 
 His Majesty, much pleased at the success I had had in 
 this great affair, was not ignorant of how thwarted I had 
 been throughout the negotiation. The cabal tried to take 
 away from me all merit by instigating parliament to de- 
 mand the return of the sixteen exiles vehemently. To cut 
 short these demands I advised the king to answer the depu- 
 tation from parliament that the chambers ought to enjoy 
 tranquilly the return of his good-will, which they would 
 cease to deserve if they doubted it. His Majesty shut their 
 mouths by letting them know that the return of their col- 
 leagues was certain; and he made them feel at the same 
 time that they were wanting in the respect that was due to 
 him by demanding that the period of this return should be 
 fixed. 
 
 Parliament insisted no longer ; its usual work began once 
 more, the laws were administered, justice was rendered to 
 the people, the fermentation ceased, and England, which had 
 counted on the results of this agitation, began to reckon as 
 
268 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. vii. 
 
 able the minister who had conjured away the storm ; whereas 
 at Versailles a part of the Coiirt, and Mme. de Pompadom- 
 at its head, reproached me for having weakened the authority 
 of the king. Was it my fault that the king had been induced 
 to hold a lit de justice so unwisely ? that he was advised to 
 seize sixteen magistrates for a fault common to the whole 
 parliament ? that his controller-general, at the opening of a 
 maritime and continental war, was without resources, and 
 was obliged to have financial edicts registered ? It is a 
 maxim of good politics that small considerations shall yield 
 to great interests ; the king always appears to advantage in 
 pardoning ; and if his authority was weakened in his con- 
 test with parliament, it was when his Majesty, having exiled 
 it to Pontoise and vainly endeavoured to put in its place a 
 royal chamber, allowed it to return without conditions and 
 without giving any external sign of obedience. 
 
 M. de Maupeou, as I foresaw, having proclaimed that he 
 had taken no part in the negotiation, found himself out of 
 countenance and asked to retire ; M. Mol^, a man of integrity 
 and good birth took his place. Mme. de Pompadour contin- 
 ued to M. de Maupeou an esteem of which she gave him 
 striking proof five years later, on the death of M. Berryer, 
 who ended his career of minister of the navy and Keeper of 
 the Seals under public and private aversion. I shall have 
 occasion to speak later of this minister. 
 
 As soon as M. Mol^ was at the head of parliament the 
 aspect of things changed ; nothing was done without agree- 
 ment ; affairs were discussed before they were taken to the 
 general assembly of the chambers ; the course of studies in 
 theology at the Sorbonne, long interrupted, was re-estab- 
 lished; a gi-eat number of exiles were recalled; benefices 
 were made the reward of prudence as well as of piety ; the 
 Archbishop of Paris, exiled to Conflans, was recalled to the 
 
1732-1758] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 2G9 
 
 capital (we shall see later what were the results of my 
 negotiations with him) ; the waves of parliament were stilled ; 
 the edicts of the king were registered with obedience and 
 zeal ; confidence was re-established withia and without the 
 assembly. The enemies of France applauded, in spite of 
 themselves, this fortunate change ; but mine, on the con- 
 trary, persisted in declaring that I should have done better 
 had I exposed the person of the king a second time to fanat- 
 icism, broken the treaties made with all Europe, recalled our 
 armies from the Ehine — in short, had I risked everything 
 rather than bring back sixteen members of parliament who 
 had resigned with the rest, and whose only personal crime 
 was that of having more credit in their chambers than others 
 for eloquence or superiority of mind. 
 
 As for me I was, on the contrary, in favour of choosing 
 among those sixteen magistrates intendants for our colonies 
 and for our provinces. A counsellor of parliament who has 
 merit, and feels he has it, has nothing to hope from fortune ; 
 his fate is fixed where it is. Neither fear nor hope can act 
 upon him ; he is shielded by the aegis of parliament, which 
 is his only judge, which protects him under dismissal and 
 insists on his recall. But his office subjects him to a hard, 
 laborious, and retired life ; no salary, no distinction is 
 attached to his labour ; he must seek, necessarily, to gain 
 through reputation what he cannot hope to gain from for- 
 tune ; and this reputation never has more brilliancy than 
 when he determines his assembly to resist the Court in mat- 
 ters which concern religion or the welfare of the people. 
 Consequently, every magistrate of genius is likely to be in 
 the party of the opposition until it pleases the government to 
 open to MM. the counsellors and the presidents that door 
 to fortune of which his Majesty carries the key in his pocket. 
 It is thus that the king, by rewarding merit in his parliament, 
 
270 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. vii. 
 
 might make those eloquent lips speak in his favour which 
 now open only to restrain him. Hope is the first motive 
 power of men, fear is the second ; when men can be assured of 
 great places and great fortunes by taking sides with the 
 Court the king will be sure of their obedience so long as 
 the fundamental laws of justice are not violated. Thus, if 
 the Court wishes to govern the sovereign courts it must open 
 careers to the able men who compose them ; it must, before 
 sending an edict or a declaration for registration by the 
 chambers, communicate its substance to their wisest mem- 
 bers ; time must be given to answer objections, to familiarize 
 minds with novelties, or with certain contradictions between 
 new laws and former ones. 
 
 It is impossible that a numerous assembly can be of one 
 mind on wholly new matters (often ill-digested) about which 
 the Court has not deigned to inform them previously ; all the 
 resistances of parliament have come from this want of com- 
 munication and concert of minds. You cannot govern en- 
 lightened men except by reason and by confidence; the 
 corruption which the Court often seeks to employ is a dread- 
 ful method, ruinous to morals, and does more harm to the 
 government which employs it than to those whose integrity 
 that government debases. 
 
 It was with these maxims that I directed for two years the 
 affairs of parliament. That assembly, I may dare to say it, 
 placed such confidence in me that I could have answered to 
 the king at all times for its good conduct, had it pleased 
 his Majesty to confide its direction to me for a longer 
 period. 
 
1757] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 271 
 
 VIII. 
 
 1757. — That which happened a few Days after my Entrance into the Coun- 
 cil of State. — The Crime of Damiens. — The Dismissal of MM. d'Argen- 
 son and de Machault. — The Conclusion of definite Arrangements with 
 the Court of Vienna. 
 
 I ENTERED the Council, January 2, 1757 ; I was present at 
 the Council of State, and the next day at that of the des- 
 patches. In the interval, I had with a minister, a man of 
 intelligence, now dead some years, a conversation which 
 struck me, from the picture of horrors he made me foresee in 
 the near future ; he exhorted me to briug to bear, in those 
 circumstances, aU the firmness, courage, and probity he 
 believed me to possess. I confess that I then applied 
 these tragic reflections of the minister only to the disorder 
 in the finances, the evils of the war just then beginning, 
 and the vices of the government. He did not like Mme. 
 de Pompadour, and I thought that these prophecies were a 
 satire against her credit and infiuence. Perhaps he may have 
 had in view none but those things, and it was this considera- 
 tion which prevented me, after the misfortune of January 5th, 
 from giving an account of this singular conversation. If ever- 
 theless, it has always remained in my head, and I now have 
 difficulty in repressing the suspicion that the minister had 
 some vague idea of the attempt which was about to be made 
 against the person of the king; he may have feared it in a 
 general way, without knowing anything positive, — for I do 
 not accuse him of the guilt of keeping silence, had he pos- 
 sessed any real knowledge. 
 
272 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. viii. 
 
 For a long time threatening letters had been written ; but 
 such letters are common in times of public excitement ; it is 
 not surprising that no notice was taken of them. Some time 
 before the catastrophe of January 5th, species of hiero- 
 glyphics drawn on paper were flimg about ; on some of them 
 was a broom and a dagger. After the event, this emblem 
 was interpreted as having meant: "Sweep out the Court 
 (that is, the mistress), stab the king." Many persons re- 
 marked that before the assassination of Henri IV. the 
 same sort of letters had been written, announcing in general 
 some sinister event. All such remarks are easy to make 
 after the event; nevertheless, I think that a wise govern- 
 ment ought to pay more attention to the circumstances that 
 give rise to them; perhaps if some lively search had been 
 made for the writers of those anonymous letters, and the 
 designers of the emblematical figures scattered among the 
 notaries of Paris, this horrible drama might have been dis- 
 covered, or at least averted. 
 
 However that may be, I had slept in Paris on the night 
 of January 4th, and I should have reached Versailles at 
 the moment when the crime was committed, had my carriage 
 been ready when I asked for it. M. Eouill^ was awaiting 
 me at Versailles, to give me the despatches which were to 
 be taken to the Council of State on the 6th. As I got out 
 of my carriage at his door, his porter told me abruptly that 
 the king had been murdered half an hour earlier. My 
 blood turned back into my heart ; I was silent for a moment ; 
 then I asked the man if the king were dead; he told me 
 no, but very bad. The Court was then at Trianon, and 
 Versailles was almost deserted. I went up to the king's 
 apartments, making as I went all the reflections that could 
 be made by a minister attacked by Jealousies, charged with 
 important affairs, who had many enemies, and for sole 
 
1757] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 273 
 
 friendship that of a woman — and that woman likely, accord- 
 ing to all appearances, to be driven from Court within a 
 few hours. These reflections came into my mind with 
 singular rapidity and clearness, and as I mounted the stairs 
 to the king's chamber I resolved to be a faithful minister 
 in the strictest sense, and a courageous friend to the 
 marquise, without allowing my personal interests to affect 
 my duty or my sentiments. 
 
 I felt, as I entered the king's cabinet, a presence of mind 
 and a courage that were almost supernatural; all extraor- 
 dinary events arouse the soul, and double its forces. I 
 had inwardly resolved, as I crossed the comtyard and 
 mounted the marble staircase which leads to the king's 
 antechamber, that if that prince died of his woimd I 
 would request the dauphin, then king, to permit me to 
 retire from the Council, and resign my place as minister ; 
 there would stUl remain to me that of counsellor of State, 
 and the Abbey of Saint-Mddard; those were enough for a 
 younger son of Languedoc, whom circumstances, and not 
 ambition, had raised higher. The dauphin was Mme. de 
 Pompadour's enemy ; he knew me then under the prejudice 
 of my attachment to her ; by asking for my retirement in the 
 first moments of his reign I should avert the storm to which 
 that intimacy exposed me. Either he would permit me 
 to retire at once, or he would order me to remain in the 
 Council until the important affairs now in my hands, both 
 within and without the kingdom, could be handed over to 
 ministers more acceptable to his Majesty. In the first case, 
 I should be very happy, at forty-two years of age, as a 
 counsellor of State with an abbey of thirty thousand francs 
 a year ; in the second case, I should persistently entreat the 
 new king to grant me leave to retire ; possibly, on knowing 
 me better, he might retain me, or he would send me away 
 
 TOL. I. — 18 
 
274 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap.viii. 
 
 without disgrace, as an honest man who did justice to him- 
 self, and to whom no reproach could be made. 
 
 As soon as I had chosen this course, and I chose it 
 iastantly, I felt myself full of strength and courage. I 
 resolved to serve the king and the State at so critical 
 a moment without looking either to the right or to the left, 
 and to give to the marquise every proof of my friendship, 
 so far as it was compatible with the duties of my ministry. 
 
 On entering the king's cabinet, I saw the extreme-unction 
 on the table and the priests in surplices ; such was the first 
 sight that struck my eyes. Those ministers who had not 
 the right of entrance were assembled in the cabinet; the 
 Mar^chal de Belleisle and M. d'Argenson were alone in his 
 Majesty's chamber with the royal family. After inquiring 
 about the moment of the catastrophe and the state of the 
 king, which at that time seemed very doubtful, I heard that 
 he had confessed to a priest of the Grand-Commun ; and 
 that a messenger had been despatched for his usual con- 
 fessor, Pfere Desmarets, a Jesuit, a tranquU man, at any rate 
 in appearance. I found the Court more occupied with what 
 was to happen to Mme. de Pompadour than with the dread- 
 ful attack on the king. " Would she go ? would he see her 
 again ? " — those were the questions on which the attention 
 of the Court seemed principally fixed. 
 
 I went down to her ; she flung herself into my arms with 
 cries and sobs that would have touched the heart of her 
 enemies, if the heart of courtiers were ever touched. I 
 begged her firmly to collect all the forces of her soul, toi 
 expect all, and to submit herself to Providence ; adding that 
 she must not give way to timid counsels ; that as the king's 
 friend, and no longer, for several years, his mistress, she 
 ought to await his orders before leaving the Court; that, 
 being the depositary of State secrets and of the king's papers, 
 
1757] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 275 
 
 she could not dispose of her person ; that I would inform her 
 hourly of the king's condition, and that I would divide my 
 time between what I owed to the State and friendship. 
 
 I left her after saying these words, and returned to comfort 
 her every hour of the night, which I passed wholly with the 
 king, and after that, twenty times a day while his illness 
 lasted. 
 
 The greatest seigneurs attached to the marquise, and the 
 ministers who were her friends consulted me as to the 
 manner in which they should behave to her at this crisis ; 
 alleging that the more zeal they showed her, the more they 
 increased the hatred of her enemies and the activity of the 
 cabal which was seeking to profit by the tragic event to 
 drive her from Court. I answered that courtiers who had 
 neither obligations to Mme. de Pompadour nor friendship 
 for her would do well to behave like the weathercock on 
 the chateau of Versailles ; but that her true friends should 
 appear still more so at a moment so terrible for her, the only 
 one, perhaps, in which they could show their gratitude for 
 the services she had done to them ; that as for myself, I 
 should act in that way, and I believed there was less to fear 
 in being an open friend than a shamefaced and hidden one. 
 
 My feeling was not adopted by every one ; they saw her 
 but little, and took their time in paying her attentions. 
 M. de Machault, especially, showed on this occasion a timid 
 and embarrassed behaviour which made him suspected of 
 compromising with the opposite side. It was even thought 
 at Court that he advised Mme. de Pompadour to retire ; but 
 that is false ; for I inquired about it from herself. He dared 
 not, one day when the king called him during his illness, 
 report immediately to Mme. de Pompadour, as he was 
 accustomed to do, what had passed between his Majesty 
 and himself; and this was the more extraordinary as the 
 
276 MEMOmS AND LETTERS OF [chap. vin. 
 
 conversation related to her. He thought himself bound to 
 postpone till the next day informing her of this interview 
 with the king, although I had made him feel that he waa 
 leaving the king's friend and his own too long upon the rack. 
 He answered, with his usual cold air and laconic speech, 
 that it would be remarked by the Court. 
 
 It must be admitted that after the first moments of tender 
 grief and despair the marquise showed great courage and 
 apparent trancLuillity during the eleven days when the king 
 left her without a single consoling word. His Majesty was 
 watched by the whole Court and by his whole family ; he 
 kept watch upon himself under circumstances in which 
 he may well have made dark reflections. But inasmuch as 
 he had not sent his favourite away during the first day after 
 his attempted assassination, the Court ought to have compre- 
 hended that he would not do so when his danger was passed ; 
 rehgion had great power over the king, but nature has even 
 more over all men. The king knew that the marquise was 
 only his friend, and he believed that if reparation of the 
 scandal required him to separate from her it need be done 
 at the last moment only. She was the depositary of the 
 secrets of his soul ; she knew intimately aU his affairs ; she 
 was the centre of his ministers; she was not a mistress, 
 to be sent away; she was a friend, whom no one could 
 replace. We judge kings severely, but they are men like 
 us ; why have less indulgence for them than for ourselves ? 
 Grace alone can triumph in our hearts over friendship, and 
 grace does not always do miracles. 
 
 It must be agreed that if the marquise were spoiled by 
 good fortune, if she had made herself too free with supreme 
 grandeur and omnipotence, she had time duriag those eleven 
 days to come back to a sense of her nothingness. But the 
 danger over, reflections vanished ; she seated herself once 
 
1757] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 277 
 
 more upon the throne with as much, and perhaps more 
 security than before, as we shall see in the sequel. 
 
 I shall not detail here all that passed during the king's 
 illness and the trial of the parricide Damiens. I shall 
 choose a few facts more connected with my private history 
 than with general history ; and to hegia, I shall say that 
 an hour after entering the king's cabinet I was struck with 
 the idleness in which the ministers were left, with the 
 liberty in which every one was allowed to look at the wretch 
 who had struck at the king ; the same thing had happened 
 in the case of Eavaillac, to whom any person was free to talk 
 for many hours. I expressed my surprise to the ministers 
 at so dangerous a neglect, and at an inaction which would 
 surely be regarded as criminal by the public; for it was 
 of the utmost importance to profit by the first moments 
 after the crime to discover accomplices, to arrest suspected 
 men and unknown persons who might endeavour to leave 
 the kingdom; it was not less important to reassure the 
 public, especially the city of Paris, so given to excitement 
 and to tranquillize our allies on the eve of a general war. 
 
 All the ministers agreed to the justice of these reflections, 
 but they all answered that the king alone and the dauphin, 
 to whom the king had said, " I make you my lieutenant ; 
 assemble the council and preside over it, if necessary," could 
 give the orders. I even saw that the principal ministers, 
 afraid of getting into some trouble themselves, were retir- 
 ing to their homes. I then decided to ask to speak to 
 Mar^chal de Belleisle and to Comte d'Argenson, who were 
 in the king's room. I told them of my reflections ; but I 
 found them not at all disposed to set the dauphin in action ; 
 for fear perhaps that the king, after his recovery, might be 
 inwardly displeased with them for allowing his son to play 
 so important a part. It showed little knowledge of the king, 
 
278 MEMOIRS AKD LETTERS OF [chap. tiii. 
 
 and little feeling for the welfare of the State, to give way to 
 such caution at such a moment. In vain I represented to 
 them that the dauphin, wholly occupied with the king's state 
 and his own grief, could not foresee the inconveniences that 
 would arise from the inaction of the Council, and that if the 
 king died of his wound, nothing could justify the government 
 for having allowed the thread of this odious conspiracy to 
 be lost. 
 
 M. d'Argenson said that I spoke as a true minister ; " but," 
 he added, " who is to take the initiative ? " " You, monsieur," I 
 said ; " you are in the king's room with the dauphin." The 
 answers of the count and the mar^chal were alike. "We 
 fulfil our duty," they agreed in saying, " when, under critical 
 circumstances, we are ready to execute orders, without fore- 
 stalliog them." Impatience got the better of me. " Yes, 
 gentlemen," I said, " that is enough to save us from being 
 ruined, but not enough to fulfil the duties of a ministry." All 
 my representations were useless. 
 
 Then, seeing that precious time was being lost, I got the 
 Baron de Montmorency, my relation and old friend, to ask 
 Madame Adelaide, whose gentleman of honour he was, to 
 make the dauphins see how important it was for the safety 
 of the king, the good of the State, and the dauphin's reputa- 
 tion, that the latter should assemble the Council to consult 
 on the measures to be taken both within and without the 
 kingdom. The commission was well-executed. A few 
 moments later the dauphin came out from the king's room, 
 and addressing himself to me and to MM. de Moras and 
 de Paulmy, he asked if we thought that the Council ought to 
 be assembled. " Undoubtedly, monseigneur," I replied ; " it 
 was never more important to summon them." " But," said 
 the dauphin, " the other ministers are not here." " Give 
 your orders, monseigneur, and they will be here." The dau- 
 
1757] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 279 
 
 phin then returned to the king's room, took the orders of 
 his Majesty to assemble the ministers, and gave them to the 
 Mar^chal de Eichelieu, the gentleman of the Bedchamber on 
 service. 
 
 The Council assembled in the king's inner cabinet. The 
 dauphin explained with dignity and tenderness for his father, 
 and with the greatest precision, the objects on which the 
 Council was to deliberate. He questioned me first on my 
 opinion, as I was the last to enter the Council. I do not know 
 if I deserved the praises given to the detail I made of the 
 measures that ought to be taken in the kingdom and towards 
 foreign countries, but my plan was unanimously adopted; 
 perhaps because the ministers were very glad not to take 
 anything upon themselves in circumstances so critical. 
 However that may be, from that moment the dauphin con- 
 ceived an esteem for my character and the turn of my mind, 
 and also a liking of which he gave me flattering proofs un- 
 til his death. 
 
 Another Council was called for the morrow ; and after 
 that there was one daily, also committees with the chancellor, 
 and a very secret one with the Keeper of the Seals. I shall 
 not say here what passed, but I cannot refrain from speaking 
 of certain circumstances that occurred. 
 
 The majority of the coimcil was of opinion that Damiens 
 ought to be tried by a commission of counsellors of the State 
 and masters of petitions. I was strongly opposed to this. 
 The commission was already chosen. M. d'Argenson and 
 the Keeper of the Seals maintained that it was the only 
 course to take. The grand-chamber of parliament was notified 
 of this ; President Mol^ and the king's lawyers came out to 
 Versailles to ask an explanation of the chancellor M. de 
 Lamoignon, who told them plainly that such was his opinion. 
 These gentlemen met me and told me what they had heard 
 
280 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. viii. 
 
 from the chancellor's own lips. I took upon myself to say 
 that either they had lU. understood him, or the chancellor had 
 explaiaed himself badly ; that nothiag was decided, and that 
 the king had confidence ta the fidelity of the grand-chamber 
 of his parliament. 
 
 I had, a few hours earlier, met the Keeper of the Seals at 
 Mme. de Pompadour's, and I had made him feel how such a 
 commission on the king's assassination would rouse the 
 suspicions of the people. He cited examples, which I re- 
 futed ; and I gave him so great a fear of consequences that 
 he changed his opinion and made several others change 
 theirs. When the Council met, I spoke strongly iu favour of 
 carrying the trial by letters patent to the grand-chamber ; 
 this plan was adopted. They wished that the princes and 
 peers should assist, and that seemed decent and reasonable 
 at first sight, though the inconveniences were felt later. 
 
 I suppress a great number of curious anecdotes, because 
 nothing is more dangerous in regard to the assassination of 
 a king than to relate facts which put ideas into the minds 
 of villains. For this reason I opposed with all my strength 
 the printed publication of Damiens' trial. That wretch was 
 well informed on the slightest circumstance of Eavaillac's 
 trial. The monsters who resemble the latter take lessons of 
 firmness and adroitness from his printed record; besides 
 which, the public was never satisfied about the interroga- 
 tions on that trial, which left an odious ambiguity over the 
 affair. As for me, I shall not say what I think. It is pos- 
 sible that a villain who believes he has personal cause to 
 complain of the king may conceive the idea of killing him 
 and braving the peril he runs and the horrible punishment 
 that awaits him ; he may have the audacity to execute his 
 project ; revenge may blind a man to that point ; but fanat- 
 icism alone arms regicides who have no other motive than 
 
1757] CAEDINAL DE BERNIS. 281 
 
 to do (according to their way of thinking) good service to 
 religion and the public. 
 
 Duriag Damiens' trial and for some time after, those 
 about the king did not cease to show him threatening letters 
 and atrocious and seditious placards, and to warn him of 
 other conspiracies. They wanted to frighten him ; he had 
 not sent away the marquise, and they wanted to force him 
 into it through the dread of being stabbed again. I have 
 heard the king, after reading one of those dreadful letters, 
 speak with a coolness, firmness, and reason above all praise. 
 
 During his illness he treated me with the greatest kind- 
 ness, and with a confidence which binds me to him by ties 
 that nothing can break or weaken. The royal family 
 allowed me to approach his bed, being convinced that I 
 would give him no bad advice. I had declared to Mme. de 
 Pompadour that if the king spoke to me of her and asked 
 my advice I should endeavour to avoid giving it ; but that 
 if the king exacted it of my honesty I could not prevent 
 myself from telling him that he was bound to regard her and 
 treat her eternally as a friend, but that he ought to put an 
 end to scandal by no longer living with her in close familiar- 
 ity. No doubt she did not love me the more for thinking 
 thus, but it did not prevent her from esteeming me more. 
 
 It is remarkable that the king, who called me to him as 
 soon as I entered the room, and who affected to talk to me 
 in a low voice about his family, his afi'airs, his griefs, never 
 once mentioned Mme. de Pompadour's name. He had 
 often said to me, in speaking of Madame Infanta, " She has 
 confidence in you, and she is right, for you are indeed a very 
 honest man." Perhaps it was this idea of honesty which 
 made the king fear that if he asked me the truth as to 
 things that were near his heart I might have the courage 
 to tell it to him. 
 
282 MEMOIRS AM) LETTERS OE [chap. viii. 
 
 The Comtesse de Toulouse, who had friendship for me, 
 was charged, she told me, by the royal family (after the 
 king was out of danger) to induce me to advise the mar- 
 quise to retire, adding that this retirement would not di- 
 minish the king's confidence and friendship, would secure 
 to her at all times the protection of the dauphin, and cover 
 her with glory in the eyes of Europe. I answered that if I 
 were only the private friend of Mme. de Pompadour I would 
 willingly accept the commission, and I had a sufficiently 
 good opinion of her to feel sure that this commission would 
 he well received ; but as minister of the king, I could not 
 without knowing his intentions give advice of that nature to 
 a person who was dear to him, and who, moreover, was the 
 depositary of all the secrets of State. This answer satisfied 
 them ; it was, in truth, that of reason and justice. 
 
 At the end of eleven days the king wrote to Mme. de 
 Pompadour. Intrigues and intriguers were disconcerted; 
 everybody now tried to make his peace with one who, from 
 that moment took a much greater ascendency and a far more 
 important part than she had ever yet had in affairs of State. 
 The courageous friendship I had shown to her went 
 without reward. She said to me one day that I was very 
 shrewd, inasmuch as I had found a way to enchant the royal 
 family while giving to her the most unequivocal marks of 
 attachment. That reflection, so full of sourness, jealousy, and 
 distrust, filled me with indignation. I replied that it proved 
 that the more a man was honest, the more he was sure of 
 pleasing the royal family. She felt her injustice, and tried 
 to repair it. 
 
 Before ending my account of this sad affair, I wish, in 
 order to enliven it, to relate a thing which happened one 
 evening in the king's chamber. Three days after the at- 
 tempt at assassination, aU the courtiers entered while his 
 
1757] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 2^83 
 
 Majesty took his bouillon; I entered too, among the crowd. 
 Pfere Desmarets, the king's confessor, saw me as I was 
 struggling through the throng to approach the king's bed. 
 "Come this way," he said, "and I wHl show you a place 
 where, although you will be behind everybody, the king will 
 see you the moment his curtains are opened." It seemed to 
 me impossible, but he insisted, and I let him place me. 
 Sure enough, I was directly opposite the opening of the 
 king's curtain, and he called me at once ; whence I conclude 
 that his confessor is well versed in the laws of optics. 
 
 After this, I persuaded Mme. de Pompadour to get the 
 dauphiu admitted to the Council of State; he was not 
 ignorant that he owed this to me. 
 
 For the last five or six years the marquise had employed 
 all her influence, all the manceuvres of M. Berryer, lieutenant 
 of police, and all the adroitness of M. de Machault to induce 
 the king to dismiss Comte d'Argenson. That minister had 
 intellect, was agreeable, possessed a noble presence, and had 
 conducted himself better than all the other ministers during 
 the king's illness at Metz ; in addition, he was not wanting 
 in the quality of intrigue, and was not slow in using it. I 
 had often advised him to be reconciled with the marquise, 
 but always in vain ; he was profoundly sunk in the common 
 error of ministers who have been favourites, and who there- 
 fore believe they will always be loved. Whether from pride, 
 or from his conviction of the king's good-will, he rejected all 
 offers that were made to him from time to time to come to 
 terms with the marquise. 
 
 After the attack upon the king, seeing that she was no 
 longer satisfied with the Keeper of the Seals, I again urged 
 her to be reconciled with M. d'Argenson ; I made her com- 
 prehend how much she would comfort the king by no longer 
 importuning him against a minister whom his Majesty 
 
286 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap, tiii, 
 
 to take his place ; for M. de Machault had the presence, self- 
 possession, and dignity of a minister; too little openness, 
 perhaps, too much despotism and curtness, too pedantic an 
 air, not enough knowledge of Europe, and too much confi- 
 dence in his clerks ; but these defects were balanced by intel- 
 ligence, insight, adroitness, and a. suitable deportment. 
 
 It is said that the marquise sacrificed him to the king to 
 make sure of the dismissal of M. d'Argenson. I thiak this 
 opinion false. The kiag dismissed M. d'Argenson because 
 he was persuaded to think him a knave who, by his intrigues, 
 was stirring up discord in Paris and at Court. His relations 
 with the Comtesse d'Estrades did him much harm. He was 
 also accused of not having paid enough attention to the 
 department of Paris which was confided to him, and of hav- 
 ing spared the authors of seditious placards. In a word, they 
 persuaded the king that he was guilty of having tolerated 
 disorders for the purpose of intimidating his Majesty and 
 making him believe that as long as he kept the marquise 
 daggers would be ready for him. 
 
 As for M. de Machault, the marquise was convinced that 
 he had failed her during the king's illness ; also that at the 
 moment when parliament quitted its functions and sent in 
 its resignations his head gave way ; she did not blame his 
 heart, but she believed that fear had confused and obscured 
 his brain. Madame Infanta told me that the king, in writ- 
 ing to her, said that it was with much pain he dismissed the 
 minister in whom he had most confidence, but that circum- 
 stances required it. Possibly the king was induced to believe 
 that as long as the Keeper of the Seals was in office, parlia- 
 ment would never be tranquil. 
 
 However that may be, the marquise confided to me only in 
 part the dismissal of the two ministers. I own I did not 
 believe she could succeed in sending away M. d'Argenson at 
 
1757] CARDINAL DE BBUNIS. 287 
 
 the opening of the war. As for M. de Machault, it was plain 
 that she could no longer endure him; she avoided being 
 alone with him, and often detained those who, out of discre- 
 tion, were about to leave them tite k t§te. Here are the 
 letters of the king dismissing the two ministers : — 
 
 February 1, 1757. 
 
 Monsieur de Machault : Though I am convinced of your 
 probity and of the uprightness of your intentions, present cir- 
 cumstances oblige me to ask you for my Seals and for the 
 resignation of your office as secretary of State for the navy. 
 Be always sure of my protection and friendship. If you 
 have any favours to ask for your children you can do so at 
 all times. It is best that you should stay some time at 
 ArnouviUe. Louis. 
 
 I continue your pension of 20,000 francs as minister of the 
 navy, and your honours as Keeper of the Seals. 
 
 February 1, 1757. 
 Monsieur d'Argenson : Your services no longer being nec- 
 essary to me, I order you to send in your resignation as secre- 
 tary of State for war, also of your other offices, and retire to 
 your estate of Les Ormes. Louis. 
 
 M. d'Argenson and M. de Machault were exiled on a Tues- 
 day at the same hour, neither of them expecting the catas- 
 trophe. The king had treated them both equally well in 
 public and in private ; each inwardly believed, seeing that a 
 storm was about to burst, that his enemy was the one who 
 alone would be crushed. I remember that two days before his 
 exile, M. d'Argenson said to me: "You are playing the 
 mysterious, but you know very well that Machault is pack- 
 ing up ; the marquise does not choose to see him ; his dismissal 
 
288 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. vm. 
 
 is the affair of a week at most." And thereupon he made 
 jests which I thought misplaced; I even told him that I 
 thought ministers ought never to jest on the disgrace of their 
 colleagues, for they were often very near to it themselves ; I 
 did not think I spoke so truly. 
 
 The evening before the exile of these ministers I found 
 the king with Mme. de Pompadour in such ill-humour, and 
 she so sad, that I thought his Majesty must have received 
 another threatening letter, or else that the two had quar- 
 relled. After the king's departure she told me that the king 
 had said nothing of what was troubling him. He had just 
 given M. Eouille and M. de Saint-Florentin the letters in 
 which he dismissed the two ministers. The king always 
 resolved with great difficulty on doing harm to any one, and 
 above all, in dismissing an old servant. He did not inform 
 the marquise of the orders he had given until an hour after 
 midnight, so that she could not warn me of them ; therefore 
 the next morning when all the foreign ministers came to talk 
 to me about the exile of MM. d'Argenson and de Maohault, 
 who had been seen, they said, starting for their estates, I 
 maintained to them that it was not true, with all the more 
 confidence because I had seen the king and the marquise so 
 late the night before, and because I was too much in favour 
 at that time not to have been informed of so important a 
 resolution. 
 
 M. de Paulmy [son of the Marquis d'Argenson, who 
 had died a week earlier] succeeded his uncle in the war 
 department, in which he had been assistant-secretary of State 
 for some years, and M. de Moras united the office of minister 
 of the navy with that of controller-general of finances. 
 They took those places two days later at a Council of State. 
 M. de Moras complaioing one day to the Sieur Fayet, his 
 confidential surgeon (a bold and sometimes amusing Gascon), 
 
1757] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 289 
 
 that the burden was too heavy for him, Fayet replied : " So 
 much the better, monseigneur ; the more the ass is laden, 
 the better he goes." 
 
 The misfortunes of France began at this period. The 
 king's Council was no longer respected. The war and the 
 navy soon felt that the hands that held the reins were too 
 weak; license and confusion took possession of the two 
 departments. Mme. de Pompadour, with her childlike con- 
 fidence, believed that with her help all would go well ; I did 
 not think so, nor our allies either. They regarded as a 
 capital fault the dismissal of the two ministers under present 
 circumstances. 
 
 M. d'Argenson, on hearing of his disgrace, bore it for a 
 time with sufficient firmness ; but at the end of five years 
 ennui laid hold of him, grief took possession of his soul, 
 and he had a fall which completed the ruin of his physical 
 machinery. On the death of his wife, April, 1764, he 
 obtained permission to come to Paris and attend to his 
 affairs. I had then returned, about six months earlier, from 
 my own exile. I found M. d'Argenson in the grasp of 
 death, stUl struggling with ambition. No sermon ever made 
 such an impression on me as the sight of that dying minister. 
 He said to me repeatedly, " Your fortune does not astonish me, 
 but your return does." It is true that my return was very 
 different from his; the king and the public had welcomed 
 me; I had just been appointed to the archbishopric of Alby ; 
 and his Majesty had crowned that favour with all that could 
 make it most agreeable. M. d'Argenson, on the contrary, 
 was still exiled ; he did not even hear before he died that 
 the king had permitted him to live in Paris ; his head was 
 full of intrigues and projects while the chill of death was 
 on his body. He died, August, 1764, with the desire to 
 live and to reign. 
 
 VOL. I. — 19 
 
290 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OP [chap. viii. 
 
 M. de Machault, on the contrary, who was believed to be 
 much more crushed by his dismissal, has given himself up 
 to solitude. He sees few persons, but is well in health and 
 growing fat, which is the sign of a sound head in dismissed 
 ministers. I do not know if he has renounced all ideas of 
 influence and power; he is still young enough to hope for 
 them, but circumstances and the present condition of minds 
 are not favourable to him. 
 
 Never was any negotiation so keen conducted so slowly 
 as that of the definitive arrangements between the Court 
 of Versailles and that of Vienna ; eight whole months had 
 been employed in constructing the Treaty of Versailles, and 
 one year went by before the king and empress had agreed 
 as to the object and the after results of the war. Each 
 article was severely examined, and cost me long memorials 
 for the discussion of matters in the Council. At last, when 
 Comte de Staremberg and I had agreed, the totality of the 
 work, long discussed piecemeal in the committees, was 
 taken before the Council of State and approved unanimously 
 by the king and his ministers. This great work, joined to 
 troubles of mind and heart caused by the attack on the king 
 and the jealousy of the minister, occasioned me a nervous 
 illness the symptoms of which were much like those of a 
 violent poison. It was in that state that I was obliged to 
 work day and night, often without sleeping fifteen minutes 
 consecutively. I can say that I pushed my zeal for the 
 king's affairs almost beyond the possible, and that if I had 
 not had the strongest constitution I could not have borne 
 the life six months. It is true that for the next five years 
 I felt with great violence the effects of the inward agitation 
 and excessive labour to which I had been condemned for 
 two years. It was in the month of March, 1757, that my 
 health suddenly broke down as if from a thunderbolt ; but it 
 
1757] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 291 
 
 was not until the following May, one year after the signing 
 of the Treaty of Versailles, that our last agreements with 
 the empress were signed by M. Eouill^, myself, and the 
 Comte de Staremberg. 
 
 Our armies had crossed the Ehine before we had come to 
 a settled agreement, so anxious was the king to support his 
 allies and give proofs of his good faith to the Court of 
 Vienna. I have already stated that, before the campaign 
 began, the negotiation for neutrality was broken off. It is 
 known that the King of Prussia, after a battle won by a 
 miracle, shut up nearly the whole of the empress' forces 
 behind the walls of Prague. That army, commanded by 
 Prince Charles of Lorraine, was not lacking in food but in 
 powder, to the point of having only forty rounds left for each 
 soldier. Marshal Daun, with a rather weak army, took up 
 a good position, where the luck and the skill of the King 
 of Prussia were both broken, after having the advantage 
 all day over the Austrians.^ Mar^chal Daun had given 
 orders for his army to retire, but when that order was taken 
 to General O'Donnell, he said he had been retreating for 
 twenty years and was tired of it, and would do nothing of 
 the kind that day. He accordingly ordered a charge of 
 cavalry, which threw into disorder the Prussian cavalry and 
 knocked over the infantry which had gained the plateau on 
 which Mar^chal Daun had drawn up his army in line of 
 battle. The King of Prussia chose his course like a great 
 man, and Mardchal Keith, as a good general, raised the siege 
 of Prague. The city was only slightly injured by Prince 
 Charles ; and the Court of Vienna which, five weeks earlier 
 had been nigh to ruin, now resumed until the end of the 
 campaign an air of superiority over the Prussian king. 
 
 1 Battle of Kolin, June 19, 1757. See the Prince de Ligne's account of it, 
 Vol. V. of this Historical Series. 
 
292 MEMOIES AND LETTERS OF [chap. viii. 
 
 As for US, as soon as we had crossed the Ehine we could 
 go no farther, for want of waggons and munitions of war. 
 Mardchal d'Estr^es, against all my representations had quar- 
 relled with PSris-Duverney, and he lacked the things he 
 could have had in abundance if he had been willing to 
 act in concert with that man of genius. Moreover, the King 
 of Prussia by the evacuation of Wesel had disconcerted the 
 first arrangement of our plan of campaign ; we expected to 
 lay siege to that place, which would have lasted at least six 
 weeks, during which time means could have been prepared 
 to march forward. The controller-general, who had begun 
 the war without securing the necessary funds to carry it on 
 and pay our subsidies, found himself embarrassed at the out- 
 set. The war in America was ruinous ; every vessel brought 
 letters of exchange, to pay which drained the royal treasury. 
 
 We admired in France the skill of the King of Prussia in 
 withdrawing his troops from Wesel to increase his own army, 
 and in taking his artUlery to Holland. It was said that in 
 that way he secured the fidelity of the King of England, 
 Elector of Hanover, by leaving that State open to an army of 
 one hundred thousand Frenchmen and twenty thousand 
 Germans in our pay; also that the garrison he had in 
 Wesel would certainly have been made prisoners of war; 
 and there were other reflections equally specious and frivo- 
 lous. For my part, I have always considered the evacu- 
 ation of Wesel as a great blunder on the part of the King of 
 Prussia, who does not make many, but, on his own showing, 
 does make some. The siege of Wesel left him at liberty to 
 fight the army of the empress without the possibility of a 
 diversion in her favour by us ; in the second place, if the 
 King of Prussia wanted his national troops in his own army, 
 he could have put into Wesel six thousand Hessians and as 
 many Hanoverians and Brunswick men, and stUl have left 
 
1757] CAKDINAL DE BERNIS. 293 
 
 thirty thousand with the Duke of Cumberland to harass us 
 in our siege ; in the third place, the King of Prussia could 
 not have divined that the spring of 1757 would not be rainy 
 and that the Ehine would not overflow ; he ought to have 
 calciilated on all the accidents of season and rivers, and have 
 counted on our army contracting diseases during the siege 
 which would reduce it by a third during the campaign ; in 
 the foiu-th place, the occupation of Wesel by our troops could 
 alone prevent Holland from taking sides with our enemies. 
 Was it wise in the King of Prussia to put, by the evacuation 
 of that place, that power into the position of forced neutral- 
 ity ? Moreover, why give us a depot and a base of supplies 
 like Wesel ? We have seen since how important that place 
 has been for us and for the safety of our Ehenish allies. It 
 may be said that Wesel could not be defended for more 
 than six weeks, or two months at the most. I agree to that ; 
 but the whole campaign would have been taken up in re- 
 ducing the fortress and in making preparations to enter the 
 Electorate of Hanover, and the King of Prussia needed dur- 
 ing that first campaign to make us lose a great deal of time. 
 Before the exile of M. d'Argenson, a memorial had been 
 composed containing a full plan of the war; all blunders 
 were noted ; all failures of precaution, such as had often made 
 French enterprises fail outside of our own frontier, were 
 pointed out ; in this memorial the best principles were laid 
 down and the wisest precautions were scrupulously detailed. 
 The king gave to this memorial his approbation and his 
 authority. It may be said that during the first two campaigns 
 pains were taken to reverse all the principles of conduct de- 
 veloped in that memorial. They avoided none of the blun- 
 ders there foreseen; they employed none of the resources 
 indicated to repair them. It really seemed in this continental 
 war that we were corrupted by the money of the King of 
 
294 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. viii. 
 
 Prussia to ruin our own affairs and promote his, and that 
 the English ministers were governing our navy to destroy it. 
 
 Nevertheless, the whole nation, which had applauded the 
 Treaty of Versailles, because it had foolishly thought that 
 treaty would give us peace, now uttered loud cries against 
 the war that we were carrying into Germany. The ministry 
 were accused of madness, of crushing France for the sake of 
 a Court which had been our enemy for three hundred years. 
 No one considered what the state of Italy would be on the 
 death of King Ferdinand of Spain (who did in fact die at 
 the close of 1758) ; they had forgotten that the Peace of 
 Aix-la-Chapelle had left defenceless the Infant Don Philip, 
 whose States of Parma would be divided between the Court 
 of Vienna and the King of Sardinia ; no one chose to re- 
 member that the King of Naples had refused to accede to 
 the Treaty of Vienna, and that, without the alliance of 
 France and the empress, he could not have disposed tranquilly 
 and freely, as he did, of the kingdom of the Two Sicilies in 
 favour of a younger son, against the customs and laws of 
 that country. All these things were seen to take place 
 without the public of France deigning to perceive that every 
 one of these points had been agreed upon in advance by the 
 Treaty of Versailles. 
 
 Men have concealed from themselves the danger that 
 France would have run, lacking money, generals, and above 
 all a Council, if the empress, following her former errors, had 
 made herself the ally of England and of the Empress of 
 Eussia ; we should have had the King of Prussia on our side 
 just so long as it suited his interests ; the Queen of Hungary 
 would have ceded to him some district or some fortress, 
 and he would have left us a prey to all Europe declared 
 against us. 
 
 We should then have seen whether, as they never ceased 
 
1757] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 295 
 
 to say, and still continue to say to this day, it would have 
 been more advantageous for us to lose battles in Flanders 
 and Italy than in Hanover. I know that less money would 
 have gone out of our treasury if the war coidd have been 
 fought on our frontiers ; but we should have lost provinces ; 
 beaten by the Hanoverians should we have been less beaten 
 by the imperial troops ? I know that an army has resources 
 in its own land and among its own fortresses ; but I also 
 know that it is far better that the devastations of war should 
 be beyond the frontiers rather than within them. With 
 economy, v?ith commerce and good administration one can 
 always bring back in a short time money spent in foreign 
 parts; but one cannot rebuild burned villages nor replant 
 great forests in a day. It is madness to wish to have war in 
 one's own country when we can, with wise precautions, carry 
 it usefully into that of our enemies or neighbours. It was 
 through lack of prudence, foresight, and economy that we 
 were unable to subsist in foreign lands. If we had secured 
 our rears in marching, provisioned the rivers behind us, for- 
 tified our posts, abandoned at the end of each campaign the 
 territory we could not hold with military force during the 
 winter, our misfortunes would not have happened, or at least 
 they could have been prevented ; it really seems as if we had 
 courted them from sheer heedlessness. 
 
296 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. ix. 
 
 IX. 
 
 1757. — The Comte de Stainville and the Embassy at Vienna. — My Ap- 
 pointment to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. — Intrigues to remove 
 Mar^chal d'Estr^es from the command of the army.— Negotiations of 
 the Duke of Cumberland with Marechal de Richelieu; of the King 
 of Prussia with the same, and the Margravine of Bayreuth with me. 
 
 M. EouiLL^, always vehemently opposed from jealousy 
 to the king's new system, did everythiag possible to send as 
 ambassador to Vienna the Comte de Broglie, who, although 
 he had much intelligence, did not perceive that M. Eouill^ 
 had only the name and title of minister, and that the ap- 
 pointment to Vienna belonged rather to Mme. de Pom- 
 padour (with whom M. de Broglie was not on good terms) 
 than to any one else ; also I was likely to influence it, and 
 I knew that he was not in favour of the alliance, and that 
 to please the dauphine, he was flattering her with a chimer- 
 ical project of making the kingdom of Poland hereditary in 
 the House of Sazony. Mme. de Pompadour was thinking 
 only of giving this important embassy to the Comte 
 de Stainville. 
 
 I have mentioned heretofore the obligations that she 
 thought she was under to him, and the violent passion 
 which she believed he felt for her, — a powerful agent on the 
 mind of a woman who pushed the admiration of her own 
 face to the verge of absurdity. It was very important for 
 Madame Infanta to have a friend in the ambassador whom 
 the king would appoint to the Court of Vienna. The Comte 
 de Stainville (since Duo de Choiseul), who has never wanted 
 
1757] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 297 
 
 for cleverness and ability, passed through Parma on return- 
 ing from Eome, and did so well with Madame Infanta that 
 she asked the king to give him the embassy to Vienna ; she 
 also asked it, with even more eagerness, of the marquise 
 and of me. I should therefore have opposed the appoint- 
 ment in vain ; Madame de Pompadour was bent upon it ; 
 Madame Infanta still more so; I should have displeased 
 both by opposing it, and have done so without success. 
 Moreover, it would have forced me to declare myself against 
 M. de Staiaville without apparent reasons ; the jealousy he 
 had slightly shown me when I was appointed to the embassy 
 in Spain, and the little approbation he had secretly given 
 to the Treaty of Versailles were certainly not sufficient 
 reasons to exclude the friend of the marquise and the de- 
 clared servitor of Madame Infanta. Besides, by putting 
 aside the Comte de StainviUe the appointment of M. de 
 Broglie, who was urged by the dauphiae and was openly 
 opposed to the alliance with Vienna, would certainly take 
 place ; the Comte de Broglie in sustaining M. Eouill^ in the 
 ministry was coveting his office; the embassy to Vienna 
 was the best ladder to it. 
 
 I took the course of letting the appoiatment be made as 
 the marquise wished, and of being useful to the Comte de 
 Stainville so long as he continued to serve the king well. 
 His enemies hastened to let me know the danger I ran in 
 associating with public affairs a man of his birth, enter- 
 prising, bold, ambitious, and adroit. Eesolved as I was to 
 quit the Court and offices when the kiug wished, and when- 
 ever I saw I could no longer play a useful and proper part, I 
 was not alarmed by the danger they pointed out to me and 
 on which I had already reflected. The Comte de Stainville 
 arrived in Paris and soon carried the day over his rival 
 the Comte de Broglie. 
 
298 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. ix. 
 
 I knew, a few days after Ms arrival, that the Mar^chal de 
 Luxembourg, having related to him the confidence that the 
 marquise had in me and the preference she gave me over 
 not only the ministers hut her own friends, the Comte de 
 Stainville answered : " Oh ! as for him, he does not trouble 
 me; I can ruin him with her whenever I choose." AH 
 these germs of Ul-will were wrapped in a conduct so frank 
 with me, so decisive for the political system of the king, that 
 I had no difficulty in forgiving the secret sentiments I had 
 reason to suspect in him. I attributed them to the jealousy 
 I excited almost universally; and as my ambition turned 
 to the side of acquiring reputation rather than fortune or 
 place, and as, moreover the Comte de Stainville was all the 
 more suited to fill the embassy to Vienna because he had in 
 his character a very necessary decision which would soon 
 put an end to the formalities and delays of M. de Kaunitz, 
 I paid less attention to my own interests than to those 
 of the king. 
 
 M. de Stainville soon saw, by the confidence with which 
 the king honoured me and by that which the marquise gave 
 me, that the safest way for him, and also the most useful, 
 was not to thwart my good fortune, but to give himself the 
 merit in my mind of contributing to it. He understood my 
 character ; he knew with what good faith I would do justice 
 to his talents and make known his services to the CoimciL 
 He made his plan to advance his fortunes by raising mine 
 and in working to secure it ; if circumstances changed he 
 thought himself in a position to destroy it by the same means 
 with which he had raised it. It wUl be seen how faithful 
 he was to this system, and how much good faith and honour 
 I put into my conduct towards him. 
 
 When I entered the council I had made Mme. de Pom- 
 padour promise that never should there be any question 
 
1757] CARDINAL DE BEKNIS. 299 
 
 of giving me a department. I feared the dangers ; I knew 
 that I should he responsihle to the public for events as soon 
 as I had the acknowledged direction of affairs; that the 
 king could not check the jealousies nor the intrigues of the 
 other secretaries of State. I knew, moreover, that I risked 
 quarrels with the marquise as soon as I was charged with 
 the ministry of Foreign Affairs ; that she would want to 
 appoint all ambassadors ; that she would write from her 
 own cabinet directly to them; and that if my opinions on 
 public affairs became different from hers I was not a man 
 to sacrifice to her wishes either the good of the State or 
 my own reputation. I could avoid these dangers only by 
 keeping the place I now occupied ia the Council without a 
 department; all I needed was that they should put iu 
 M. EouilM's place a minister more capable and less jealous. 
 Besides which, my health since the month of March, 1757, 
 was much shaken; I was not without uneasiness about 
 poison, for I saw, both without and within, many powerful 
 reasons for fearing it. It wUl be seen how it became im- 
 possible for me to escape the department of Foreign Affairs, 
 and to whom I owed that fatal obligation. 
 
 I was charged with drawing up the instructions for 
 M. de StainvHle ; I read them to the Council, and the dau- 
 phin, to whom the king, ever since his entrance to the 
 Council, had ordered me to explain all that had passed between 
 our Court and that of Vienna, seemed much struck with 
 the clearness and propriety of those instructions. 
 
 I shall have occasion hereafter to relate by itself all 
 that concerns the dauphin during the period of my min- 
 istry. I shall only remark here that I never went to the 
 prince unless sent by the king, and that his Majesty always 
 asked me how long a time my conversation with his son 
 had lasted. The special kindness with which the royal 
 
300 MEMOIRS AND LETTEES OF [chap. ix. 
 
 family honoured me contributed not a little to increase 
 the jealousy of the courtiers, and to cause imeasiness to 
 the marquise ; I shall speak of this more fully in the sequel. 
 
 The Comte de Stainville had too much intelligence not 
 to feel the impropriety of his being under the orders of a 
 minister of ill-intentions towards the success of the affairs 
 with which he was charged ; he did not wish to run the risk 
 of compromising himself under the instructions of M. Eouill^ ; 
 on the one hand, he believed he did an agreeable thing to 
 the marquise in forcing M. Eouill^ to retire, a useful thing 
 to the king's new system by putting me at the head of af- 
 fairs, and a useful thing for himself, by having the air of 
 doing me a service, — I say having the air, because if I 
 had desired that place it would have offered itself to me. 
 
 The means which he took to carry out his object were 
 singular, and picture very correctly the character of his mind. 
 He requested Mme. de Pompadour to entreat the king to 
 allow him to resign the embassy to Vienna, and grant him 
 for all favour the right to be employed in the army in his 
 rank, which was that of a brigadier. At first Mme. de Pom- 
 padour thought this a joke, and later, that M. de Stainville 
 had gone mad ; but when she found that he was serious she 
 was amazed ; he was actually renouncing fifty thousand 
 crowns in salaries, a position of the highest honour, and clos- 
 ing the door to a brilliant and almost certain fortune. 
 
 He had no difficulty in making it felt that in renouncing 
 these advantages he meant to show how dangerous it would 
 be for him to serve the king at Vienna, in circumstances so 
 critical and delicate, under an ill-intentioned and absolutely 
 incapable minister ; he made it understood that his reputa- 
 tion was dearer to him than all else, and he had no difficulty 
 in convincing the marquise of the truth of what he said. 
 " But," she objected, " M. Eouill^ is dying ; he sleeps at the 
 
1757] CARDINAL DE BEENIS. 301 
 
 Council and in his own cabinet ; we have only to wait for an 
 apoplexy ; that will deliver us ; the king does not want to 
 be the homicide of an incapable but honest man by dis- 
 placing him. If he would only displace himself the king 
 would rejoice ; but Mme. Eouill^, who loves the Court, like 
 a bourgeoise who was never made to be in it, will not 
 allow him to do so — " " Would it please you," interrupted 
 M. de Stainville, eagerly, " if I should bring you, within an 
 hour, M. Eouill^'s resignation ? Will you have it ? " 
 
 The marquise, while regarding the scheme as folly, con- 
 sented, declaring that she would gladly induce the king to 
 keep M. Eouill^ in the Council, and in his office of super- 
 intendent of posts, by means of which Mme. EouUl^ could 
 stUl keep her little place at Court. 
 
 One sees by this on what ridiculous considerations the 
 fate of great affairs does sometimes depend. For two years 
 it had been necessary to displace M. Eouill^, and yet, from 
 fear of vexing his wife, they preferred to compromise the 
 interests of the greatest powers in Europe ! 
 
 The Comte de Stainville kept his word. He went to see 
 Mme. Eouill^, and made her feel that her present Court 
 existence depended on the preservation of her husband's 
 health, and that that precious health depended on his release 
 from the burden of his ministry. She resisted for some 
 time; but finally she went down to see her husband with 
 M. de Stainville, and decided him to send in his resignation ; 
 which news the comte brought back in triumph to the 
 marquise, who received it with as much surprise as joy. It 
 must be owned that nothing could be more unscrupulous 
 than this action of the Comte de Stainville, nor more 
 adroit. 
 
 I was summoned to Versailles (the derangement of my 
 health having detained me for several days in Paris), and 
 
302 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. ix. 
 
 the king forced me by his kindness to violate the oath I 
 had made to myself, never to take upon my shoulders the 
 burden of a department. If this was a great mistake on my 
 part, I can at least say it was not voluntary. Could I resist 
 the king's wish that I should accept a post, the principal 
 functions of which I had fulfilled for two years ? My 
 health would have been a sufficient reason for refusing it, if 
 I were not as much over-burdened with work ia not accept- 
 ing it. The idea of the greater good to be done determined 
 me ; and I may say with truth that it was not the first time 
 in my life that idea has won the day over my repugnances. 
 
 The very day that I took my oath of office before the 
 king, June 29, 1757, I carried to him the news of the 
 complete victory won by Mar^chal Daim over the King 
 of Prussia at Kolin, and the deliverance of Prague. After 
 that period until the battle of Eosbach, November 5, 1757, 
 I never entered the king's apartments without taking to 
 him good news ; so that when people saw me coming they 
 used to cry out : " Tiens ! here he comes ; he looks like a 
 battle won." 
 
 Mar^chal d'Estr^es, in command of our armies, had com- 
 mitted the great mistake of not being willing to take con- 
 certed action with PSris-Duverney, who was the head of 
 the commissary department, and had always been the right 
 hand of generals and ministers of war, — a man who, with 
 some defects, united a great soul to many ideas and much 
 ezperience. The mar^ohal committed another as great in 
 showing jealousy of the Prince de Soubise, who commanded 
 the reserve, which was habitually called the " Soubise army." 
 The Prince de Soubise was beloved by the king and the 
 marquise. The plan of the latter, who believed that all her 
 friends had great talents, was that he should carry off some 
 signal advantage which would put her in a position to ask 
 
1757] CARDINAL DE EERNIS. 303 
 
 for him with decency the command of our armies, and a 
 place in the Council as military member of it. The marquise 
 thought that she herself would find support in a man of the 
 honour and worth of M. de Soubise, a minister as well as a 
 general, able and docile, who would follow her views and 
 carry out her ideas. 
 
 Mar^chal d'Estrdes felt the role they wanted this great 
 seigneiu: to play, and, as he was neither enduring nor dis- 
 simulating, M. de Soubise often had to suffer from his 
 temper. The latter made frequent complaints to the mar- 
 quise, who did not conceal her displeasure at the conduct 
 of the mar^chal towards her favourite. This rendered it 
 easy to make her listen to and welcome the complaints of 
 the Court of Vienna on the slowness with which Mardchal 
 d'Estr^es was proceeding on the Lower Ehine. It is certain 
 that he lacked many things before starting ; but it was not 
 understood why, with so large a force under his command, 
 he did not advance with more vigour on the Duke of Cum- 
 berland, who commanded an army much inferior to his 
 own. 
 
 Mar^chal de Eichelieu, who had uttered loud cries when 
 the Comte d'Estrdes was appointed to the command of the 
 armies, conceived, although he had quarrelled with the 
 marquise, the bold idea of supplanting him. The Comte de 
 Maillebois, quartermaster-general of the army in Germany, 
 entered into his views, as did M. de Cr^milles, lieutenant- 
 general, a weak, ambitious, and timid man, who wanted the 
 first places, but feared his own power to maintain them. 
 The mar^chal had always had the confidence of M. d'Argen- 
 son, and now had that of M. de Paulmy (his uncle's suc- 
 cessor), and still more that of PSris-Duverney, who, since 
 the deaths of Mar^chal de Saze and Mardchal de Lowendahl, 
 and the capture of Minorca, had taken it into his head that 
 
304 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OE [chap. ix. 
 
 the Mar^chal de Eichelieu was as great a warrior as he was 
 a courtier and man of intrigue. M. Duverney, sensitive to 
 the affronts put upon him by Mar^chal d'Estr^es, profited by 
 the complaints of the Court of Vienna, and the vexation 
 of the marquise at the proceedings of the general towards 
 M. de Soubise. He wrote a memorial, which was strongly 
 approved by MM. de Eichelieu, de Maillebois, de Cr^mUles, 
 and de Paulmy. Forty thousand more men were sent to 
 Germany imder Marechal de Eichelieu, who went there 
 with orders to command the army, and to command Mare- 
 chal d'Estr^es, if he were wHliag to put himself under his 
 orders. By this new plan, the Prince de Soubise was given 
 a corps of twenty-five or thirty thousand men, who were 
 to act immediately in Saxony, keep the King of Prussia 
 delayed there without risking a battle, and so give time 
 to the Austrians to seize Silesia, where, in spite of our 
 desires, they wished to establish the theatre of war, instead 
 of placing it on the Elbe, where the mass of our forces could 
 have supported them and rendered possible the siege of 
 Magdeburg, while the Swedes and Eussians would lay siege 
 to Stettin-on-the Oder. 
 
 I shall say here, in passing, that the Eussians coiild never 
 be induced to quit the frontiers of Poland, nor the Austrians 
 the frontiers of Silesia. The taking of Magdeburg and 
 Stettin would have taken from the King of Prussia the Elbe 
 and the Oder, the resources of his hereditary States. Silesia 
 would have fallen of herself on the day this double object 
 was obtained ; but Providence did not permit the carrying 
 out of these soimd views. It must also be admitted that 
 our own blunders aided the obstinacy of our allies in making 
 us all miss the principal aim and purpose of the war. 
 
 To return to the new plan of campaign devised by M. 
 Duverney. It must be allowed that if the Prince de Soubise 
 
1757] CARDINAL DB BERNIS. 305 
 
 had been the Marechal de Saxe, and if, instead of giving him 
 an army composed of troops from the Cercles, they had given 
 him forty thousand men drawn from the grand-army (which 
 would still have been strong enough with sixty thousand to 
 defeat the Due of Cumberland and take possession of the 
 Electorate of Hanover), — we must, I say, allow that if the 
 troops of the Empire had been kept to guard our communi- 
 cations, and if our army in Westphalia had been well in con- 
 cert with the army sent to Saxony, the plan would have been 
 as fruitful in results as it was judicious. It would not have 
 resulted, as PSris-Duvemey said prophetically, iu bringing 
 the war to an end in one campaign, but it gave reason to 
 expect (especially after the taking of Chemnitz and the vic- 
 tory at Breslau by the Austrians, November, 1757) that the 
 King of Prussia would have lacked resources to continue the 
 war, and that Magdeburg and Stettin would have fallen into 
 our hands and those of our allies in the second campaign, 
 which would have ended the war gloriously and infallibly. 
 
 But it was madness to strip the kingdom of our troops, to 
 expose our coasts to invasion from England and the country 
 to uprisings of the religionaries ; it was even greater folly to 
 send the Prince de Soubise, known only as an honest man 
 full of generosity and nobleness, to measure himself, in his 
 apprenticeship, against the King of Prussia, and to imagine 
 that Marechal de Eichelieu would be willing to aid in mak- 
 ing the military reputation of M. de Soubise, with the cer- 
 tainty that if it were made by the winning of a battle the 
 prince would supersede him in the command of the armies 
 — which was certain through the king's liking for the prince 
 and the passion of Mme. de Pompadour to see her " dear 
 Soubise " at the head of the army and the Council. 
 
 PSris-Duverney was blinded by the hatred he had to Ma- 
 T^chal d'Estr^es, by the unreflecting enthusiasm which the 
 
 TOL. I. —20 
 
306 MEMOIES AND LETTERS OF [chap. ix. 
 
 taking of Minorca had inspired in him for Mar^chal de Eiche- 
 lieu, whose bravery and audacity made Duverney conceive 
 the highest hopes. He knew that the king would never 
 willingly displace Mar^chal d'Estr^es, whom he liked, to sub- 
 stitute Mar^chal de Eichelieu, whom he no longer liked but 
 feared for his intrigues and his ambition. In consequence 
 of this, Duverney bethought him of proposing the Prince de 
 Soubise for the command of the army in Saxony, feeling 
 well assured that the marquise would sacrifice her hatred to 
 M. de Eichelieu if, by giving him command of the grand- 
 army, that of Saxony could be secured for M. de Soubise, and 
 that with this last expectation she would bring the king to 
 agree to the displacement of Mar^chal d'Estr^es. AU Du- 
 vemey's conjectures in regard to this proved sound. 
 
 The Comte de Maillebois saw in the distance, as if assured 
 of it, the future disagreement of MM. de Eichelieu and de 
 Soubise, and, Mar^chal d'Estr^es once dismissed, he reckoned 
 on M. de Soubise being ruined by his inexperience, M. de 
 Eichelieu by his eagerness for getting money and conducting 
 the army as he pleased, but especially on the hatred Mme. 
 de Pompadour had vowed to the mar^chal since his late in- 
 trigues at the time of the king's attempted assassination. 
 All these rivals set aside, the Comte de Maillebois, brother- 
 in-law of M. de Paid my, minister of war, and quartermaster- 
 general of the grand-army, flattered himself, not without 
 reason, that in spite of Mme. de Pompadour's repugnance to 
 him, they would be forced to give him the command of the 
 armies ; he did not foresee then that the Due de Broglie, by 
 distinguished actions, would snatch it from him, nor that he 
 himself would alienate his chance by the imprudence of his 
 conduct. 
 
 The above is the mot d'enigme of the campaign of 1757, 
 and almost that of the whole war, for the same intrigues and 
 
1757] CARDINAL DE EERNIS. 307 
 
 the same personal aims thwarted all the operations of our 
 armies. 
 
 Paris-Duverney, having drawn up his plan of campaign, 
 agreed with the parties interested that I should ask the king 
 for an audience, at which Duverney should read his memorial 
 in presence of his Majesty, Mme. de Pompadour, and M. da 
 Paulmy only ; it was agreed that I should not know its con- 
 tents for three weeks. They feared that the Mardchal de 
 BeUeisle, a friend of the Mar&hal d'Estr^es and an old en- 
 emy of M. de Eicheheu, might fetter the project ; for this 
 reason it was settled that I should not be informed of it 
 until the plan had been adopted by the king, and Mar^ohal 
 de Eichelieu had, through a reconciliation with Mme. de 
 Pompadour, induced her to obtain for him the command of 
 the grand-army and for M. de Soubise that of the little army 
 in Saxony. 
 
 It is incredible that such an iatrigue should have suc- 
 ceeded as it did, and that the king should have allowed 
 them to make a mystery to me of an operation which was 
 to put another face on the affairs of Europe with which I 
 was charged ; I could not myself believe it if I had not been 
 an ocular witness of the manoeuvre. The king, to whom I 
 announced Duvemey's memorial, telling him that I was not 
 to know of its contents for three weeks, joked me about it. 
 I made him remark that when his Majesty knew the con- 
 tents himself he would inform me of them if, in his opin- 
 ion, it was necessary for his affairs that I should know them 
 earlier. 
 
 M. de Paulmy was won to the scheme by his brother-in- 
 law, M. de Maillebois. It was, therefore, not difficult for 
 P^ris-Duverney, who has both ardour and eloquence, to make 
 Mme. de Pompadour admire a plan which gave a fine r6le to 
 the Prince de Soubise, and got rid of the Mar^chal d'Estr^es, 
 
308 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. ix. 
 
 whom she now could not endure, although it placed at 
 the head of the armies M. de Eichelieu, whom she disliked. 
 But she was so confident that M. de Soubise would beat 
 the King of Prussia, and that this success would make him 
 a marshal of France, that she consented to the choice 
 of M. de Eichelieu in the hope that M. de Soubise would 
 take his place iu the next campaign ; friendship carried the 
 day over hatred in her heart. Thus was decided the greatest 
 and then most important affair for France and for Europe. 
 
 Mar^chal de Eichelieu pretended at first great reluctance 
 to make advances to Mme. de Pompadour, but finally con- 
 sented. All went well at the interview. The mar^chal 
 justified himself, and the marquise simulated sentiments that 
 were not ia her heart. It was agreed that excellent troops 
 should be given to M. de Soubise ; but after the mar^chal 
 was appointed commander-iu-chief of the whole army I had 
 great difficulty iu making him cede to M. de Soubise a single 
 old and tried regiment ; so that before he started for the 
 army he had already partly quarrelled with the marquise 
 and shown coldness to M. de Soubise, so little master was he 
 of concealing his jealousy of that favourite of the king. 
 
 After the interview of Mar^chal de Eichelieu with Mme. 
 de Pompadour, M. Duverney communicated to me his memo- 
 rial m presence of the Marquis de Paulmy, the mar^chal 
 de Belleisle, and M. de Cr^milles. It was earlier than at 
 first proposed. I was not dazzled by what was specious 
 in the plan. I said that the kingdom would be left a prey 
 to invasion by England; that the expenditures would be 
 increased ; and that the success of the plan depended on the 
 events of the war, the conduct of the generals, and partly on 
 that of our allies. They were not at all pleased with me, but 
 the resolutions were already taken and they could do without 
 my approval. I admit, however, that I had a good opinion 
 
1757] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 309 
 
 of the courage of the two generals, and that I thought Mar^- 
 chal de Eichelieu more eager for glory than for money ; my 
 only fear was for M. de Soubise, thus imprudently confronted 
 with the King of Prussia. -I 
 
 Meantime Mar^chal de Belleisle, who had his spies every- 
 where, knew that something was going on to the disadvantage 
 of Mar^chal d'Estr^es, and that Mar^chal de Eichelieu was 
 likely to supplant him. He therefore wrote to d'Estr^es ia 
 these very words : " My dear mar^chal, if you wish to con- 
 tinue to command the king's army, make haste to cross the 
 Weser, give battle, and win it." That note drew Mar^chal 
 d'Estr^es from his lethargy and decided him to fight the 
 battle of Hastembeck, which proved a victory, though he be- 
 lieved for some time that he had lost it, as he modestly stated 
 in a letter he wrote to the king after the affair. This action, 
 which was no great thing in itself, had great results, and 
 saved to France the whole country of Hanover. 
 
 Mar^chal de Eichelieu, in consequence of delaying his 
 departure, did not arrive until after the battle and after the 
 city of Hanover had sent its keys to Mar^chal d'Estr^es. All 
 Europe was amazed that after so considerable a victory the 
 command of the army was taken from the general who had 
 won it ; but Europe was ignorant of the intrigues of Versailles ; 
 it did not know that six weeks before the battle Mar^chal 
 de Eichelieu had already been substituted for Mar^chal 
 d'Estr^es. 
 
 It can be said that we have, by our conduct in the last 
 war, baffled aU the reasonings and aU the judgments of men 
 of sense ; this is what intrigue leads to ; this is the effect of 
 the passions of men and the infatuation of women. 
 
 The Mar^chal de Eichelieu had hardly taken command 
 of the grand-army before the Duke of Cumberland wrote 
 to him that he had powers from the kiag, his father, to 
 
310 MEMOIRS Airo LETTERS OF [chap. ix. 
 
 negotiate with him for the peace of Hanover and the 
 neutrality of that State, or for a suspension of arms. The 
 mar^chal replied, with much respect and dignity, that 
 " the king had placed him at the head of his army to fight 
 the enemies of his allies, and not to negotiate." 
 
 This answer conformed to the instructions of the king, 
 which I had given him. In them he was formally ordered 
 to send to Versailles all negotiations whatsoever which the 
 enemy might endeavour to open with him, whether on the 
 part of the King of England or on that of the King of 
 Prussia and his allies. The Mar^chal de Eichelieu re- 
 membered this formal command on this occasion ; he forgot 
 it at Kloster-Zeven a month or six weeks later. He might 
 at least have remembered then what the Duke of Cumber- 
 land had written htm on his arrival respecting his powers 
 when that prince declared to him at Kloster-Zeven that he 
 had no powers, but would despatch a courier to London to 
 obtain them. Of two things, one : either the Duke of Cum- 
 berland did not tell the truth when he first wrote to the 
 mar^chal, or he deceived him at Kloster-Zeven in declaring 
 that he had no powers. 
 
 A short time after the letter of the Duke of Cumberland, 
 the King of Prussia wrote one to the mar^chal with his own 
 hand, very flattering, and proposing with jests what he 
 called " a trifle," — those were the very words of his Prussian 
 Majesty, — "a bagatelle," a mere nothing: "that of treating 
 for peace with the conqueror of Port-Mahon, the conqueror 
 of Lower Saxony, the liberator of Genoa ; " adding that if this 
 proposal did not displease him, he would send one of his 
 confidential advisers to treat with him. The mar^chal sent 
 us a copy of his answer, together with the original letter of 
 the King of Prussia. He answered the king, very suitably, 
 that he could only make wishes for peace, and could not 
 
1757] CARDINAL DB BEENIS. 311 
 
 enter into any negotiation for it without the orders of the 
 king his master. 
 
 The letter of the King of Prussia was communicated to 
 the Court of Vienna, which laughed, with good reason, at 
 the trap laid for us to suspend the operations of the campaign 
 in order to give his Prussian Majesty time to recover from 
 his losses at Kolin, and from various other checks he had 
 received from time to time. 
 
 Mar^chal de Eichelieu has since declared that it depended 
 on France only to make peace on that occasion ; that is to 
 say, during the first campaign, and at a time when the 
 Court of Vienna had just recovered the upper hand, when 
 Eussia had put sixty thousand men in motion, and when all 
 our allies were making efforts to fulfil the obligations of 
 their alliance with the Courts of Vienna and Saxony ! The 
 beautiful dames of Paris, over whom the marechal, old as 
 he is, preserves his rights, may believe this, but it is amazing 
 that historians and men of intelligence have given it a 
 thought. 
 
 Word was sent to Mardchal de Eichelieu to reply to the 
 King of Prussia that the king would always incline his 
 allies to make peace when the Empire, Saxony, and the 
 Court of Vienna were satisfied respecting the invasions 
 and damages they had suffered. 
 
 In spite of this refusal, and some time after the capitula- 
 tion of Kloster-Zeven, when the marechal thought proper 
 to take the totality of his army to Halberstadt in Lower 
 Saxony, there to levy contributions and eat up supplies 
 which were intended to provision our armies for the winter, 
 the King of Prussia, knowing that Marechal de Eichelieu 
 would be very glad to end the war, and perhaps to weaken 
 our union with the Court of Vienna, because that union 
 strengthened the position of Mme. de Pompadour, his enemy. 
 
312 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. ix. 
 
 proposed a suspension of arms during the winter, between 
 the French and Prassian troops. The Duke of Brunswick 
 asked the mardchal to treat of this affair; the latter 
 refused to do so, but permitted the Marquis du Mesnil, 
 lieutenant-general, to hear what the duke had to say. In 
 fact, among them they drew up the articles of this extraor- 
 dinary agreement; the mar^chal had it approved at a 
 council of war, and all our generals, who were dying of a 
 desire to get back to Paris for the winter, testified that this 
 suspension would be very useful in a military point of view, 
 that they saw nothing in it that was not to our advantage, 
 but that it was for politics to decide whether such an 
 agreement could be carried out under the circumstances. 
 
 We made no mystery to the Court of Vienna of this last 
 attempt of the King of Prussia. That Court had not been 
 pleased, neither had the Swedish Senate, with the convention 
 of Kloster-Zeven, the coming rupture of which it foresaw ; it 
 was now indignant that Mar^chal de Eichelieu should again 
 give ear to such artifices of the common enemy. These were 
 indeed gross ; for this new convention secured the possession 
 of Saxony until the spring to the King of Prussia ; he would 
 then have led all his forces into Silesia to drive out the Aus- 
 trians ; and we should not have been more tranquil during the 
 winter, inasmuch as the Hanoverian army was resolved to 
 break the treaty of Kloster-Zeven — for I can no longer 
 call it a capitulation. By accepting the proposal of the 
 King of Prussia, we should do the greatest possible harm 
 to the empress-queen, in giving that monarch the ability 
 to assemble all his forces during six months against her; 
 we ourselves would have remained embarrassed before the 
 Hanoverian army, unable to draw any profit from the diver- 
 sion the army of M. de Soubise, combining with that of the 
 Empire, was to make in Saxony. 
 
1757] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 313 
 
 The King of Prussia, as it was, drew great advantages from 
 these parleys between the Duke of Brunswick and the 
 Marquis du MesnU ; he caused to he printed the form of the 
 agreement drawn up between the two generals, adding 
 articles which gave great umbrage to several of our allies, 
 and making it believed for a long time that we had signed 
 them. 
 
 While the King of Prussia was thus setting traps for the 
 Mardchal de Eichelieu, the Margravine of Bayreuth, his 
 much loved sister, was negotiating with me, through the 
 channel of Cardinal de Tenciu, then living in retirement at 
 Lyon, and not unwilling to play once more a little r6le in 
 the world before his death. My answer to the margravine 
 was so concise and clear that the Court of Vienna spread 
 copies of it throughout the Empire. That answer calmed 
 the anxiety of our allies, all the more alarmed by these 
 Prussian tentatives because France, which a year ago was 
 enthusiastic over the Treaty of Versailles, had now become 
 Prussian ; our armies were Prussian, several of our ministers 
 would have been had they dared to raise the mask, and our 
 alliance with the Courts of Vienna and Eussia was more 
 criticised in Paris than iu London. 
 
 My letter through Cardinal de Tencin dispersed the um- 
 brages of our allies. The margravine, however, was not re- 
 pelled; she sent the Comte de Mirabeau [imcle of the famous 
 Mirabeau], my relative and her chamberlain, to me with a 
 letter, which I refused to vmseal unless he consented that 
 after having read it I should place it, the original letter, in 
 the hands of the Comte de Staremberg, the ambassador of 
 the empress. M. de Mirabeau took the letter from me as 
 soon as he knew the use I should make of it. 
 
 Nothing is more dangerous in wars of alliance, especially 
 when they first begm, than to give ear to such overtures ; 
 
314 MEMOIRS AND LETTERS OF [chap. rs. 
 
 they usually tend only to causing loss of time, to suspending 
 military operations, to sowing jealousy and distrust among 
 allies. Mar^chal de Eichelieu had too much intelligence 
 not to know how common and how easy are all such traps ; 
 he therefore had his reasons for giving in to them ; it was 
 not because he was an enemy to the Court of Vienna, nor 
 that he was very enthusiastic over the talents of the King 
 of Prussia (as the whole French nation now were) ; but the 
 more our alliance with the empress was successful, the 
 more the influence of the marquise was strengthened ; he 
 was her enemy, and she was his enemy. Neither did it 
 suit him that the Prince de Soubise should play a great part. 
 Such are the secret motives which explain the conduct of 
 the marechal at Kloster-Zeven and during the remainder of 
 the campaign. 
 
 To return to the period after the departure of Marechal, 
 d'Estr^es, who left M. de Eichelieu the command of an army 
 which had just won a battle by which it brought into sub- 
 jection the Electorate of Hanover. Marechal de Eichelieu, 
 instead of marching directly on the Duke of Cumberland 
 amused himself by receiving in Hanover the honours of a 
 triumph that was due to his predecessor ; he gave a detach- 
 ment to the Due d'Ayen, with orders to levy contributions 
 in the Duchy of Brunswick, and he thus left time for the 
 Hanoverian army to reach the camp at Stade. This camp 
 was well fortified, but it was necessary to either perish or 
 vanquish if forced into it. The Elbe, very broad at that 
 point, was at the rear of the Hanoverian army, and there 
 were no boats to transport it across the river into the duchy 
 of Saxe-Lauenburg. It was there that Marechal de Eiche- 
 lieu, after having lost his opportunity to vanquish the Hano- 
 verian army, resolved to force it with an audacity which 
 came of imprudence and temerity. He engaged the head of 
 
1757] CAEDINAL DE BERNIS. 315 
 
 his own army in a swampy region where it was impossible, 
 if it had raiaed for twenty-four hours only, that provisions 
 or artillery could reach him. If the Duke of Cumberland 
 had trusted more than he did to the valour of his troops, 
 then ill-discipliQed and frightened, though two months later 
 imder an able general they forced us to evacuate the whole 
 region between the principality of Halberstadt and the 
 Lower Ehine, it was very possible, I say, that the head of 
 Mardchal de Eichelieu's army might have been beaten by 
 the Hanoverian army issuing from the intrenchments of 
 Stade; not succeeding, that army could have regained its 
 fortified camp; having succeeded, it would have discon- 
 certed aU our projects. 
 
 We shaU presently see how and where this audacious 
 march of Mar^chal de Eichelieu ended. 
 
APPENDIX I. 
 
 THE EXPEDITION TO MINORCA. 
 
 Letter written by Marechal de Richelieu to the Abbe 
 Comte de JBemis. 
 
 Hbadquabtees, Pokt-Mahon. 
 May 5, 1756. 
 
 I DO not know, monsieur, if you have yet arrived at your 
 embassy in Madrid, and I fear the illness which kept you in bed 
 when I left; though my last news, dated April 20, assured me 
 that you were beginning to go out. I hope that you will give 
 me news of yourself as soon as you reach Madrid; and that if 
 you are not yet there the Abb^ de Frischmann, who will open 
 this letter in your absence, will send them to me. 
 
 Meantime I must render you an account of all that has hap- 
 pened to me since my departure from Toulon. I was welcomed 
 by a storm, April 13th, which scattered many of the vessels which 
 I had with me, — 198 sail, independently of ships of war. 
 Several were dismasted, others sprang a^leak and were forced to 
 return to Toulon, Marseille, and some to Corsica. They have all 
 rejoined, however, and I am only short of three feluccas laden 
 with subsistence-supplies, one of which was captured, as you will 
 see by the copy of my letter to the Marquis de Cayro, herewith 
 annexed. 
 
 I landed on the 18th at Ciutadella, a rather well fortified town 
 at the other extremity of the island from Port-Mahon, rather re- 
 markable for the number of its public buildings and edifices. The 
 English abandoned it on the approach of our fleet and while we 
 were disembarking. They did the same at Fournel, where there 
 is a rather considerable harbour, defended by a very well fortified 
 fort of which I took possession next morning. Having learned 
 
318 APPENDIX I. 
 
 that tlio enemy on retreating was beginning to do damage, T imme- 
 diately marched twenty-four companies of gronadiors, 8U])porl(Hl 
 by a brigade of infantry, commanded by the Manniis du Mcsnil, 
 lieutenant-general, who drove back the enemy and camped at 
 Mercadal, which is about the centre of the island. I joined him 
 the day after with the rest of the army and sent on the I'rince 
 do Beauvau with all the grenadiers to seize this place (Port- 
 Mahon) and take up a position around the fortress of Saint- I'liili]), 
 where I camped myself with the whole army on the following 
 day. 
 
 I have been busy since then in landing the immense quantity 
 of supplies necessary for the commissariat and the artillery in 
 taking so considerable a fortress; and as on this island they never 
 saw a cart, and the mules are very small and too puny to drag 
 artillery, I have had to use the oxen I brought with mo, and 
 soldiers, to drag my numerous and weighty baggage; consequimtly 
 it is easy to see the time it has taken mo to collect my galiions, 
 fascines, and all that is needed before beginning so important a 
 siege; but, finally, with infinite pains and trouble, all is now 
 ready, and I expect to-morrow, or, at latest, the doy after, to open 
 the trenches. 
 
 Our squadron blockades the port, in which 1 have found two 
 millions worth of French pr(jporty and vessels, which are now in 
 my power. If you have any knowledge of the plan of the harbrmr 
 you will see that it rises toward the town, so that theso vcshoIh 
 were able to escape at night below the cannon of tlio fnrt and 
 come to the foot of my terrace, where I hold them in Sttf(;ty. I 
 have seized Fort Phillippet and the whole right bank of the 
 harbour as you enter it, on which is tlio signal tower, wlicre I 
 have posted a battery of mortars and cannon, which defend the 
 entry of the port to all attempting it, except our own squadron, 
 which lies at half-range from the shore, to batter all the works on 
 that side which overlook it. 
 
 On arriving at Ciutadella I sent a vessel to Majorca with an 
 aide of the quartermaster-general of my army to inquire of tlio 
 French consul what means he would have to obtain on that iHland 
 supplies for the convenience and comfort of our army, which may 
 be wanting on this island. I learned two days later, by a vessel 
 
APPENDIX L 319 
 
 sent me from Majorca, that the Marquis de Cayro, captain-general 
 of that island, had sent for our consul as soon as he heard of our 
 approach, to pay him compliments and assure him that he had 
 received orders from the Spanish prime-minister to preserve a per- 
 fect equality between the English and ourselves, which it seems 
 they mean to pay us in compliments. You will see by the copy 
 of a letter I have just written to M. de Cayro the subjects on 
 which I think I have reason to complain, and the representations 
 which, it seems to me, you ought to make about them to the 
 Court of Spain. 
 
 It is for you, monsieur, who are on the spot, to choose the 
 means to convey these complaints, and the manner of remedying 
 the inconveniences to which the army of the king may be put in 
 consequence of such conduct. It is very fatal that we should 
 meet with them from Spain in this conjuncture, from which she 
 might derive an advantage for herself which she may not find 
 again in a hundred years, for you know it only depends on her to 
 recover now an important portion of her own domain, which 
 would make her the arbiter of the commerce of the Mediterranean, 
 instead of those who have been her veritable enemies ever since 
 they have had possession of it. I say " her veritable enemies " 
 because assuredly the English are more the enemies of Spain than 
 of us; for they have much more to gain, and the parts of her 
 commerce which they are trying to tear from her in order to 
 attain to universal despoticity of commerce is greater in proportion 
 to what they get from us. . . . The two kings of Erance and Spain 
 ought to be united for the interests of the two nations, being 
 kings of the same blood; and therefore, as you may say, one; 
 though by the divisions and intrigues of their Courts they are 
 perpetually being drawn away from the interests of their nations, 
 their houses, and their glory, to give profit to their common 
 enemies. 
 
 It is a fatality which true patriots must ever deplore; and if 
 your talents and your intellect do not succeed in putting things 
 where they should be, at a moment which seems to have an 
 eminent interest, so clear and so easy to satisfy, I see with grief 
 that we may as well renounce it forever. You will give me 
 great pleasure if you will write me the situation in which you 
 
320 APPENDIX I. 
 
 find minds, and also give me news of yourself, which you can 
 always do by way of Barcelona. 
 
 We have heard nothing yet of Admiral Binck [Byng] and his 
 squadron, with which he was said to he coming. It appears that 
 ours, which is good and fine and in excellent condition, is de- 
 termined to fight him unless he arrives with very superior forces. 
 I scarcely dare flatter myself to reach the end of my siege before 
 that event. However, if this should happen I should return to 
 France immediately; leaving here enough troops and munitions 
 to prevent the English from attempting, or at any rate succeeding 
 in, the slightest enterprise against this island ; which will be very 
 easy to do for I myself only succeeded through their fault and 
 the bad measures they had taken. . . . 
 
 (Added in the Duke de Richelieu's own writing.) 
 
 The ideas people had of this fortress were so different from 
 what it really is that we should have been crazy to undertake the 
 siege of it with what had been collected for that purpose before 
 my departure. . . . When I ordered the artillery disembarked 
 I asked how many days it would take to bring it before the for- 
 tress. The commandant, a man full of zeal and readiness to serve 
 us, said six months ; to comprehend the fright this gave me, I must 
 explain that from Ciutadella to Port-Mahon is only the distance 
 from Paris to Pontainebleau, and the road infinitely better in 
 all respects. I had to find means to bring in detail the munitions 
 of war, . . . and it was the soldiers who dragged the cannon 
 and the caissons. 
 
APPENDIX II. 
 
 TREATY AKD CONVENTIONS OF MAY 1, 1756. 
 
 Convention of neutrality signed between Her Majesty the 
 Empress- Queen of Hungary and Bohemia and His Very 
 Christian Majesty. 
 
 The differences which, have arisen hetween His Very Christian 
 Majesty and His Britannic Majesty on the subject of the bound- 
 aries of their respective possessions in America appearing, more 
 and more, to threaten the public tranquillity, Her Majesty the 
 Empress-Queen of Hungary and Bohemia and His Very Christian 
 Majesty, who desire, equally, the unalterable duration of the 
 friendship and good understanding which happily exists between 
 them, have judged it proper to take measures for that effect. 
 
 Her Majesty the Empress-Queen declares and promises for this 
 object, in the most solemn and most obligatory manner possible, 
 that not only she will take no part, directly or indirectly, in the 
 above-named differences, which do not concern her and about 
 which she has made no pledges, but she will observe a perfect and 
 exact neutrality during the whole time that the war between 
 France and England, occasioned by the said differences, may last. 
 
 His Very Christian Majesty, on his side, not wishing to involve 
 any other power in his private quarrel with England, declares and 
 reciprocally promises, in the most solemn and most obligatory 
 manner possible, that he will not attack, nor invade, under any 
 pretext or for any reason whatsoever, the Low Countries, or other 
 Kingdoms, States and Provinces under the dominion of Her 
 Majesty the Empress-Queen; and that he will do her no harm 
 either directly or indirectly, in her possessions nor in her rights ; 
 and Her Majesty the Empress- Queen promises reciprocally in 
 regard to the Kingdoms, States, and Provinces of His Very 
 Christian Majesty. 
 
 VOL. I. — 21 
 
322 APPENDIX n. 
 
 This convention or act of neutrality shall be ratified by Her 
 Majesty the Empress-Queen and His Very Christian Majesty 
 within the space of six weeks, or sooner, if possible. 
 
 In pledge whereof, we, the undersigned, ministers plenipoten- 
 tiary of Her Majesty the Empress-Queen of Hungary and Bohemia 
 and of His Very Christian Majesty have signed the present act 
 and have appended thereto the seal of our arms. 
 
 Done at Versailles this first of May, 1766. 
 
 G. COMTE DE StAEEMBEKG, 
 
 A. L. EouiLLi. 
 
 P. J. DE PlEBKB DE BeKNIS. 
 
 Treaty of defensive union and friendship signed between Her 
 Majesty the Empress-Queen of Hungary and Bohemia and 
 His Very Christian Majesty. 
 
 In the name of the very holy and indivisible Trinity, Father, 
 Son, and Holy Ghost, So be it. 
 
 Be it known to all those whom it may concern . . . 
 
 Her Majesty the Empress-Queen of Hungary and Bohemia has 
 appointed and authorized the very illustrious and very excellent 
 seigneur, George, Count of the Holy Eoman Empire Staremberg, 
 councillor of the supreme aulic council of the Empire, chamberlain 
 of Their Imperial Majesties, and their plenipotentiary to His Very 
 Christian Majesty; and His Very Christian Majesty in like 
 manner appoints and authorizes the very illustrious and very 
 excellent seigneurs, Antoine-Louis Eouille, Comte de Jouy and 
 de Eontaine-Guerin, councillor in all the councils of his Majesty, 
 minister and secretary of State of his commandments and finances, 
 commander and grand-treasurer of his Orders; and Frangois- 
 Joachim de Pierre de Bernis, Comte de Lyon, Abbe-commanda- 
 taire of the royal abbey of Saint-Arnould of Metz, one of the 
 forty of the Academie Frangaise, and ambassador extraordinary 
 from His Majesty to His Catholic Majesty ; the which, after duly 
 communicating to one another their full powers in good form, of 
 which copies are appended to this treaty, and after duly conferring 
 together, have agreed upon the following articles : — 
 
 Article I. There shall be friendship and sincere and constant 
 
APPENDIX II. 323 
 
 union between Her Majesty the Empress-Queen and His Very 
 Christian Majesty. . . . 
 
 Art. II. The Treaty of Westphalia of 1648, and all the 
 treaties of peace and friendship which since that epoch have been 
 concluded and now exist between Their said Majesties, and in 
 particular the convention and act of neutrality signed this day, are 
 renewed and confirmed by the present treaty in the best form and 
 as though they were inserted here word for word. 
 
 Art. III. Her Majesty the Empress-Queen promises and 
 pledges herself to guarantee and defend all the kingdoms, states, 
 provinces, and domains at present possessed by His Very Christian 
 Majesty in Europe, whether by Herself or by her heirs and suc- 
 cessors, without exception, against the attacks of any power 
 whatsoever, and for always ; the case, nevertheless, of the present 
 war between France and England solely excepted, conformably 
 with the act of neutrality signed this day. 
 
 Art. IV. His Very Christian Majesty pledges himself to Her 
 Majesty, the Empress-Queen, her heirs and successors, according 
 to the order of the pragmatic sanction established in Her house, 
 to guarantee and defend against the attacks of any power what- 
 soever, and for always, all the kingdoms, states, provinces, and 
 domains at present possessed by Her Majesty in Europe, without 
 any exception. 
 
 Art. V. In consequence of this reciprocal guarantee, the high 
 contracting powers will always work in concert for whatever 
 measures may seem to them most proper for the maintenance of 
 peace ; and, in the event of the States of either one of them being 
 threatened with invasion, they will employ their good and most 
 efficacious offices to prevent it. 
 
 Art. VI. But as these good offices which they here promise 
 to each other may not have the desired effect. Their said Majesties 
 oblige themselves from the present moment to succour each other 
 mutually with a body of twenty-four thousand men, in case one 
 or the other of them be attacked, by whomsoever it be, and under 
 whatsoever pretext it may be; the present war between Erance 
 and England on the subject of America solely excepted, as was said 
 in Article III of the present treaty. 
 
 Art. VII. The said succour shall be composed of eighteen 
 
324 APPENDIX n. 
 
 thousand infantry, and six thousand cavalry, and it shall be set 
 in motion six weeks, or two months at latest after requisition is 
 made by whichever one of the high contracting parties is attacked, 
 or threatened with invasion in his or her possessions. This body 
 of troops shall be maintained at the cost of whichever of the two 
 high contracting parties is the one who is bound to supply this 
 succour, and the one who receives it will furnish winter quarters 
 to the said body of troops ; but the party demanding this succour 
 shall be free to require, in place of the said effective in men, 
 the equivalent in money, to be paid in specie every month ; but 
 the said equivalent shall be estimated as a total, and neither party 
 shall be able under any pretext whatsoever to exact more than 
 eight thousand florins (money of the Empire), for each thousand 
 men of the infantry, and twenty-four thousand florins for each 
 thousand men of the cavalry. 
 
 Art. VIII. Her Majesty the Empress-Queen, and His Very 
 Christian Majesty, reserve to themselves the right to mutually 
 invite other powers to take part in this purely defensive 
 treaty. 
 
 Art. IX. The present treaty shall be ratified by Her Majesty 
 the Empress-Queen of Hungary and Bohemia, and by His Very 
 Christian Majesty, and the ratifications shall be exchanged within 
 the space of six weeks, counting from day of signature, or earlier 
 if possible. 
 
 In pledge whereof we, the undersigned, ministers plenipotenti- 
 ary of Her Majesty the Empress-Queen of Hungary and Bohemia 
 and of His Very Christian Majesty, have signed the present treaty, 
 and have appended thereto the seal of our arms. 
 
 Done at Versailles this first of May, 1756. 
 
 G. COMTE DB StAEEMBEKG. 
 
 A. L. EotriLLB. 
 
 F. J. DE PlEEEB DE BeENIS. 
 
APPENDIX III. 
 
 SPEECH PRONOUNCED FOE THE KING BY THE CHAN- 
 CELLOR TO THE DEPUTIES FROM PARLIAMENT. 
 SEPTEMBER 1, 1757. 
 
 The sentiments which animated your predecessors would not 
 have allowed them to take the step which the greater part of the 
 officers of Parliament have lately been induced to take. 
 
 The king orders you to keep always present to your minds the 
 obligations which your oath imposes on you. No motive can 
 absolve you from rendering the justice that you owe to the sub- 
 jects of His Majesty; magistrates appointed to administer the 
 laws cannot refuse to do so without becoming guilty themselves 
 of the evils which are the necessary result of that refusal. 
 
 On the repeated testimony which has been given to His Majesty 
 of your submission, and your fidelity, He willingly desires to- 
 day to question your hearts only, and find in your sentiments 
 grounds for confidence in the future. 
 
 He therefore effaces forever the memory of what has displeased 
 him in your past conduct, and will regard as non-existing the 
 resignations which you have sent him. 
 
 His Majesty has informed you, by letters which have been 
 addressed to you, that He is willing to replace in their offices all 
 those who resigned them. 
 
 In regard to those of your colleagues whom He felt himself 
 obliged, for special reasons, to send away, His Majesty, while 
 retaining them in their places, has not fixed the time of their 
 recall; when the king is obeyed, when you have resumed the 
 full exercise of your usual functions, when His Majesty is satis- 
 fied with the excellence of your conduct, He will listen favourably 
 to your appeals in this matter. 
 
 As for what concerns the second declaration (that on discipline), 
 the king desires that the usage may become as useless as he has 
 
326 APPENDIX ni. 
 
 judged it to he necessary; but His Majesty will not refuse to 
 listen to wliatever Hs parliament may think its duty to present 
 to him. 
 
 He wills that the suppression ordered by his edict of December 
 last be executed. He will send to his parliament an inter- 
 pretative declaration, to the registration of which He orders you 
 to proceed without delay. 
 
 The king orders you to resume your ordinary functions : con- 
 form yourselves to his intentions. 
 
 His Majesty has nothing so much at heart as that the silence 
 he has prescribed for both sides shall reign throughout his 
 kingdom, that the peace he has desired so long may be re-estab- 
 lished. Though His Majesty, from superior reasons, and in view 
 of the general welfare, thought it his duty to rise above ordinary 
 rules, his parliament need not apprehend any consequences from 
 this in the future. The king orders you therefore to see that his 
 first declaration is executed, comformably to the canons of the 
 Church received throughout the kingdom, to the laws, and to 
 the ordinances. 
 
 It is by returning to these views that you will remember the 
 considerations of wisdom and moderation on which you ought to 
 regulate your conduct; give, yourselves, the example of respect 
 and submission which His Majesty desires shall be paid to 
 religion, and its ministers ; it is thus that you will make a legiti- 
 mate use of the authority which the king confides to you. 
 
 May these sentiments be always graven on your hearts; and 
 remember that your sovereign is treating you, at this moment, 
 as a father. 
 
INDEX TO VOL. I. 
 
 Aix-la-Chapelle (Peace of) 159; 161- 
 163. 
 
 Aegenson (Marc-Pierre, Comte d'), 
 refuses to be on good terms with Mme. 
 de Pompadour, 198 ; jealousy as min- 
 ister of war against M. de Machault, 
 minister of the navy, 225, 241 ; re- 
 fusal of reconciliation with Mme. de 
 Pompadour, 283-285; dismissed and 
 exiled, 286-288; his dismissal from 
 ministry of war causes in a great 
 measure the French disasters in the 
 "Seven Years' War," 285; takes 
 his dismissal painfully, his death, 
 August, 1764, 289. 
 
 Batredth (The Margravine of), en- 
 deavours to negotiate with Bernis, 
 313, 314. 
 
 Belleisle (Charles-Louis-Auguste 
 Ponquet, Due and Marechal de), com- 
 mands on the western coast of 
 France, 225, 226 ; enters the Council 
 of State, 295. 
 
 Beknis (Fran9ois-Joaehim de Pierre, 
 Abbe and Cardinal de), letter to his 
 niece, 81-84 ; birth and family re- 
 lations, 85-87; childhood, 88-90; 
 early education, 91-94 ; sent to Jesuit 
 college in Paris, 94 ; life and studies 
 there, 95-98 ; reflections on systems 
 of education, 98, 99 ; enters seminary 
 of Saint-Sulpice, life and studies 
 there, 99-103 ; goes to Languedoc, 
 104, 105 ; returns to Paris, Cardinal 
 de Fleury's prejudice against him, 
 106 ; brave struggle with poverty, 
 early life in the world, takes to 
 
 poetry, 107-111; acquaintance and 
 friendship with Cardinal de Poliguac, 
 126, 128; goes to Auvergne and Lan- 
 guedoc, kindness of MassiUon to him, 
 131, 132 ; his celebrated speech to 
 Cardinal de Fleury, 133, 134 ; is re- 
 fused a benefice, 135-138 ; his election 
 to the French Academy, 138, 140; 
 intercourse with men of letters, 141- 
 144 ; judgment on women, 144-146 ; 
 on great seigneurs, 147-149; origin 
 of his fortune, Mme. de Pompadour, 
 150-156; his situation in 1751, 157, 
 158 ; determines to enter public life, 
 166 ; appointed ambassador to Venice, 
 168-171 ; history of his embassy and 
 acts in Venice, 175-187 ; visit to 
 Parma, 188; takes Holy Orders in 
 Venice, 189 ; returns to Versailles, 
 190; shocked at the state of public 
 affairs, 195, 202; appointed ambas- 
 sador to Spain, 203 ; suddenly called 
 on to assist Mme. de Pompadour and 
 the king in negotiating an alliance 
 with the Court of Vienna, 204 ; the his- 
 tory of that negotiation, 204-2 1 6 ; per- 
 petually thwarted by the ministers, 
 especially RouiUd, 217-219; proposes 
 an ultimatum to England, prepares 
 for the attack on Minorca, 220-228 ; 
 proposes terms of peace with Eng- 
 land which the ministry reject, 228 ; 
 negotiations with Vienna, 229-230; 
 health breaks down under physical 
 and mental strain, 231 ; signs Treaty 
 of Versailles, 232, 233, 321-324; 
 cabals against him in the ministry; 
 234-236; enters the Council of State, 
 
328 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 244; his opinion as to the proper 
 course towards parliament, 249-252 ; 
 called by the king to take charge of 
 the affair of parliament, the principles 
 on which he did so, 258-264 ; success 
 of his course, 267-270; prediction 
 made to him by a minister, 271 ; his 
 honourable reilections on his position 
 and duty after the attempt on the 
 king's life, 280-283 ; induces Mme. 
 de Pompadour to be reconciled to 
 Comte d'Argeuson, the latter rejects 
 the proposal, 283-285 ; the sermon to 
 him of Comte d'Argenson's last days, 
 289; his kind construction of Stain- 
 viUe's (Choiseul's) sentiments to him, 
 298 ; made minister of Foreign Affairs 
 against his will, 299 ; the Margravine 
 of Bayreuth endeavours to negotiate 
 with him, 313, 314. 
 
 Chateauroux (TheDuchesse de), 139 ; 
 
 her death, 151. 
 Choiseul (!fctienne-Fran(;ois, Comte de 
 
 Stainville and Due de), appointed 
 
 ambassador to Vienna, 296, 298 ; 
 
 persuades Rouille to resign, 300- 
 
 302. 
 Court (The) its manners and morals, 
 
 112-115. 
 
 Damiens (Eohert-Franpois), his at- 
 tempted assassination of Louis XV., 
 272-283. 
 
 Due (M. le), failure of his ministry, 
 119, 120. 
 
 DuvBRNET (Joseph Paris, called Paris-), 
 his advice to M. le Due, 119, makes 
 preparations for the attack on Mi- 
 norca and supplies the money to the 
 treasury, 221-224. 
 
 England, outbreak of the war with, 
 ultimatum of France, capture of 
 Minorca, 220-229, 317-320. 
 
 EsTREES (Louis-C^sar-Charles le Tel- 
 lier, Comte and Mar^chal d'), in com- 
 mand of the armies, quarrels with 
 Pslris-Duverney, 302 ; intrigues against 
 him led by Mme. de Pompadour in 
 
 favour of the Prince de Soubise ; is 
 goaded to win the victory of Hastem- 
 beck, 309; superseded by Marechal 
 de Eichelieu, 309. 
 
 Fleurt (Cardinalde),afriendof Bernis' 
 father, gives advice as to his educa- 
 tion, 94 ; his prejudice against Bernis, 
 106 ; sketch of him and his career, 
 anecdotes concerning him, 115-125; 
 Bernis' famous speech to him, 133, 
 134. 
 
 FoNTENBLLB (Bernard le Bovier de), 
 141. 
 
 France, condition of, after the Peace 
 of Aix-larChapelle, 161-163; the gov- 
 ernment and ministers, 164-167 ; state 
 of Court and government in 1752, 
 172, 174; alarming condition, 191- 
 194 ; naval attack by England before 
 declaring war, 199; quarrels in the 
 government, 200; her military mis- 
 fortunes in the Seven Years' War 
 begin after dismissal of Comte d'Ar- 
 genson, 289 ; conduct of the con- 
 tinental war, 290-295. 
 
 Frederick the Great, King of Prussia, 
 distrust of him by France, 210, 212, 
 213, 216-218; on hearing of the 
 Treaty of Versailles assembles his 
 ai-my and prepares for war, 237, 238 ; 
 beginning of the Seven Years' War, 
 240; his actions during that war, 
 310-313. 
 
 Jesuits (The), their college of Louis- 
 le-Grand in Paris, its professors and 
 Bernis' career there, 95-98. 
 
 Kaunitz (Wenceslas, Comte), Austrian 
 prime-minister, negotiates alliance 
 with France, 204-216, etc. 
 
 Louis XV., beginning of his relations 
 with Mme. de Pompadour, 150-156; 
 speaks for the first time to Bernis, 
 157 ; excessive eagerness for alliance 
 with Austria, 206, 208; his delight 
 at the signing of the Treaty of Ver- 
 sailles, threatening letters against 
 
INDEX. 
 
 329 
 
 him, 272 ; his attempted assassina- 
 tion by Damiens, 272-283. 
 Louise-Elisabeth de France (Ma- 
 dame Infanta and Duchess of Parma), 
 187, 188, 190. 
 
 Machault (Jean-Baptiste de), minister 
 of the navy, lukewarm conduct as to 
 the siege of Minorca, jealousy of 
 Comte d'Argenson, minister of war, 
 225 ; dismissed and exiled, 285-288 ; 
 how he took his disgrace, 290. 
 
 Mahia Thekesa (The Empress-queen), 
 proposes, through Mme. de Pompa- 
 dour, an alliance with France, 204 ; 
 history of that negotiation, 204-216; 
 in the Seven Years' War, 240, etc., 
 310, etc. 
 
 Massillon (Jean-Baptiste), Bishop of 
 Clermont, his friendly approval of 
 Bernis, 131, 132. 
 
 Minorca (Island of), taking of, 224- 
 228, 317-320. 
 
 MiREPOix(Jean-Fran5oisBoyer,Bishop 
 of), his refusal of benefices to Bernis, 
 134-138. 
 
 Orleans (Philippe d'), Eegent, injury 
 done by him to religion and morals, 
 anecdotes relating to, 112-114, 118. 
 
 Parliament (The), sketch of its affairs 
 and conduct, especially in relation to 
 the clergy and bull Unigenitus, from 
 1732 to 1758, 246-271. 
 
 PoLiGNAC (Melchior, Cardinal de), 
 sketch of him, anecdotes and poem 
 relating to him, 126-130. 
 
 Pompadour (Mme. de), beginning of 
 her relations to Louis XV. and to 
 Bernis, 150-157 ; her position in 
 1755, 195-198; chosen by Maria 
 Theresa to negotiate an alliance 
 between France and Austria, 204; 
 history of negotiation, 204-216 ; 
 threatening letters against her, 272 ; 
 her -perilous position and behaviour 
 after Damiens' attack on the king's 
 
 life, Bernis' faithfulness to her, 274- 
 276 ; recovers the king, and is more 
 secure than ever on her throne, 277, 
 282 ; is willing to be reconciled to 
 Comte d'Argenson; resolves on his 
 ruin, 283-285. 
 
 RiCHELiEiT (Due and Mar&hal de), 
 chosen by Bernis to command the 
 attack on Minorca, and takes the 
 island, 224-228; his letter describ- 
 ing it, 317-320; commands the army 
 on the Rhine, 309 ; negotiates with 
 the Duke of Cumberland, and also 
 with King of Prussia, 310, 311; his 
 blunders, 314, 315. 
 
 RouiLLE (Antoine-Louis, Comte de 
 Jouy), minister of Foreign Affairs, 
 his perverse thwarting of Bernis, 
 217-219 ; claims the credit of the 
 Treaty of Versailles, 233, 235, 244 ; is 
 made to resign by Choiseul, 300-302. 
 
 S AiNT-SuLPicE ( Seminary of) , the Abbfe 
 
 Couturier its superior, Bernis' career 
 
 there, 99-103. 
 Saxe (Maurice, Comte and Marechal 
 
 de), remark as to Fontenoy, 154 ; his 
 
 character, 155. 
 Seven Years' War (The) beginning 
 
 of 240; continuation, 290-315. 
 SouBiSE (Charles de Rohan, Prince de), 
 
 his part in the Seven Years' War, 302, 
 
 etc. 
 Starembekg (George-Adam, Comte 
 
 de), negotiates with Bernis the 
 
 Treaty of Versailles, 204, etc. 
 Stuart (Prince Charles Edward), his 
 
 arrest and treatment, 158. 
 Unigenitus (The Bull), division of the 
 
 bishops on the subject ; the pope's 
 
 action concerning it, 253, 254. 
 
 Venice (Republic of), Bernis' embassj 
 
 there, 174-187. 
 Versailles (The Treaty of), signed 
 
 May 1, 1756, and what followed, 232 
 
 etc.