MEMOIRS OF THE Court of
France
AND City of
Paris:
CONTAINING The Intrigues of that
Court,
and the Characters of the
Ministers of State,
and other
Officers
; Together With the Occurrences of the TOWN.
In Two PARTS.
Translated from the French.
LONDON,
Printed for
Jacob Tonson
at
Grays-Inn-Gate,
and
George Strahan
at the
Golden Ball
in
Cornhil.
MDCCII.
MEMOIRS Of the COURT of FRANCE, And of the CITY of PARIS.
PART I.
IT was soon after the Treaty, with the Duke of
Savoy,
that I came to the
French
Court. The King found it convenient, to conclude a Peace with that Prince; thereby, to ease himself of so expensive and troublesome a War, as that had prov'd; which he had been obliged to maintain on that side. This great Monarch, who having once put an end to the Civil Wars, which were rais'd in his Kingdom, while he was under age, had been so successful in his Undertakings, that he was look'd on as a Prince whom Providence design'd to raise above all others: found himself on a sudden, in danger of being cast down, from his greatest height of Grandeur; all
Europe
being united against him; and King
William,
who is now in Possession of the Throne of
England,
having been invited thither, by some of that Kingdom; to deliver them from the Apprehensions they were under, that their Religion, Laws and Privileges, were in danger, from the Measures taken by King
James
and his Ministers: engaged so many Princes in his Interests by his prudent Conduct, that in a short time, he form'd a very considerable League; and put himself at the Head of so many Forces, that he was in a Condition to put a stop, to his most Christian Majesty's formidable Power; under which, every thing had bowed before. So that by a Vi
issitude, frequent enough in Governments, one descended of
William
of
Nassaw,
preserv'd the House of
Austria
from its utter Ruin: The beginnings of which were owing to his illustrious Predecessor. Yet nothing in all this War, created more trouble to the King, than the Duke of
Savoy
's declaring against him. He had often endeavour'd to take him off from the Confederates, but could not prevail. The Mareshal
de Catinat,
who commanded his Majesty's Army in
Italy;
and who is as well qualify'd, for Negociations of State, as for the Business of War, was more successful than others had been. He sent the Count
de Tesse,
Lieutenant General of the King's Armies, to
Turin;
with Instructions, suitable to those he had himself received from Court: and that he might be the better heard, his Majesty added so many Troops to his Army, under the Mareshal's Command, that he made it much Superiour to the Duke of
Savoy's.
He had two Reasons for doing this; one was that thereby he might make the Duke sensible of the Mischiefs he was capable of doing him; and the other was, that he might not be afraid of the foreign Troops, which he had call'd to his Assistance; who might have offer'd to prescribe to him, if they had been equal to the united Forces of
France
and
Savoy.
The advantageous Proposals, that were offer'd to the Duke, made him hearken to an Accommodation. By one of the Articles of this Treaty, the Princess of
Savoy,
was to be given in Marriage to the Duke of
Burgundy,
so soon as she was full twelve years of Age: Until which time, she was to be educated in
France;
for as yet she wanted fifteen or sixteen months of it. And the King engaged, to give two Dukes and Peers of
France,
to remain Hostages in
Savoy,
till the Marriage should be accomplish'd. The King made choice of the Dukes
de Froix
and
de Choiseul
to go there, as the two Hostages; and gave each of them 12000 Livers to defray the expence of their Journey. The Dutchess
du Lude,
was appointed Lady of Honour, to this Princess. The Dutchess
d' Arpajou,
expected to have had the Honour of this Charge, because she had it under the Dauphiness: And she was so vexed at the Disappointment, that in a short time she fell into an Apoplexy; which oblig'd her to go to the Waters of
Bourbon,
though the Season in which they are usually taken, was already past: but it's now believ'd, they are good for that Disease at any time of the year; and therefore no regard is had to any particular Season. The King appointed also six
Dames du palais,
one of which was the Countess
de Roucy,
who is this Dutchess's Daughter; upon which account, it was thought, that the King's having neglected her self, would not affect her any more: But, as we always prefer our own Interests to that of others, she was much more sensible, of the Affront, which she thought was put upon her self, than of the Honour, which was done to her Daughter. It's but of late, that the Dutchess
du Lude,
could reasonably hope, to have been so fortunate, for she was not much in Favour at Court, nor of the number of those Ladies, who are allow'd to go to
Marli;
and the first time she went there, it cost her 2000 Crowns to the Princess
d' Harcourt,
who makes money of every thing, and who procur'd her that Favour. She had some Difficulty to furnish the Money, yet she has reason to be well-pleas'd, that she employ'd it that way; for she has thereby had Opportunities, to act her part so well, that she is got much into the King's Favour, and into the Favour of those, in whom he has the greatest Confidence. After she was nam'd to her Charge, she took Journey, very soon for
Pout-Beauvoisin,
which separates
France
from the Dominions of
Savoy;
at which Place she was to receive the Princess of
Savoy.
The Countess
de Roucy
went thither also, with the other five
Dames du palais,
whom the King had named. The Marquiss
de Dangeau
(who had better Fortune than the Dutchess
d' Arpajou,
for he was nam'd Gentleman of Honour to the young Princess, which was the very Charge, he had with the late Dauphiness) went also to meet her, with the other Officers of her Houshold, whom the King had nam'd. The Count
de Tesse,
who was made her first Master of Horse, as a Reward of the good Services he had done at the Treaty, would have much rather chosen to have been Gentleman of Honour. The King had some time before granted the Marquiss
de Dangeau,
the great Privilege, of the Order of St.
Lazarus;
which the Count
de Tesse
thought, was a sufficient Reward, and that nothing more was design'd for him, but he soon found his mistake: Yet he has no reason to complain of his own Fortune; for he is one of those, whom the Court has us'd with the greatest Kindness; yea, I may add, that he is even overburthen'd with its Favours: for in a short space of time, he was made Governour of
Ypres,
Knight of the Holy Ghost, Collonel General of the Dragoons, Lieutenant General of the King's Armies, and first Gentleman of the Horse to the Dutchess of
Burgundy.
This might seem strange, but that we often see when a Courtier has once got much into Favour, the King is so lavish in bestowing Honours and Preferments upon him, that one would think, he was to keep none in reserve for others.
Some days after this, the Princess of
Savoy,
took her Journey from
Turin
for
Pont-Beauvoisin,
where her Lady of Honour, waited for her with the King's Coaches. They whom the Duke of
Savoy
sent along with her, to be her Convoy, took leave of her at that Place. And when she had come as far as
Lions,
the Dutchess
du Lude,
made her stay a while there, as well to refresh her after the Fatigue of her Journey, as to satisfie the Curiosity of the People, who were passionately desirous to see her: after which she set forward in her Journey for
Fountain-bleau,
where the Court was at that time. The King went as far as
Montargis
to meet her, for he knew what day she was to be there; the Dauphin went along with his Majesty, as did also the Duke and Dutchess of
Orleans;
and having lodg'd there that night, they came to
Nemours
next day to dinner, where the Duke of
Burgundy
waited for them: They were then within four Leagues of
Fountain-bleau,
which they easily reach'd before night. The Princess was then but a very Child, yet the King was so taken with her, that he stay'd full four hours in Company with her at
Montargis.
The Duke and Dutchess of
Savoy
had taught her so well her Lesson, that she seem'd to have Wit and Sense much above her Age. The Court began now to consider, what Name or Title should be given her, whether they should call her Dutchess of
Burgundy,
or Princess of
Savoy;
the King inclined to the first, though she was not to be married for some considerable time: His reason was, that that Title would give her the Precedency of all the Princesses of the Blood, without giving them any reason to complain. But the Duke of
Savoy
requested the King, that she might retain her own Title, till she was married to the Duke of
Burgundy.
He thought perhaps thereby to find a Precedent for him and his Family, henceforth to claim Precedency at the
French
Court; for he knew well enough, that whatever Title they gave her, she should always take the door of all the Ladies about the Court: And, it seems, he knew, that when one of his Ancestors was in
France,
in the time of
Henry
IV. and disputed for Place with
Henry de Bourbon,
Prince of
Conde,
at the door of the King's Antichamber, the King took the Prince by the Hand, and made him enter first; and to mortifie the Duke of
Savoy
yet farther, he told him, that he knew not what he meant, in offering to vie with a Prince who might one day be his Master.
However, the present Duke of
Savoy
having requested the King, that his Daughter's Title might be continued till the Marriage; the King held a Council with his Ministers, that he might know what was fittest to be done on that Occasion: They fell upon a middle-way, which was to call her neither Duthess of
Burgundy,
nor Princess of
Savoy,
but only
the Princess,
without adding any more; and thus she was always called till the day of her Marriage: In the mean time, it was ordered, that she should have the Precedency of all the Princesses of the Blood, as being the presumptive Wife of the Duke of
Burgundy.
The King caus'd her to be entertain'd with Diversions suitable to her Age. And Monsieur
L' abbee de Choisi,
finding it was become fashionable, to be employ'd in something relating to the young Princess; thought, that he should make his Court wonderfully well, by writing a Narrative of every thing, that had befallen her since she parted from
Tarin.
When this Book came first abroad, some People got into an Humour, of commending it highly in all Companies, as the finest Piece that had appear'd of a long time: But if they had been ask'd, what they found in it that made them boast so much of it, they had been puzled to tell what it was. The more ingenuous and frank sort of People spake quite otherwise of it, and instead of calling it so fine a Piece, they own'd plainly, that it was good for nothing. Monsieur
L' abbee,
who sets up for an ingenious Writer, was extremely vex'd at this; but all those who are look'd upon as the best Judges, agreeing in the same Opinion; his Book was by common consent, condemn'd for waste Paper, to be sent to the Grocers Shops.
Before I proceed farther, I beg leave, to make a short Digression concerning this Author; he lost once fifty
Lowis d' ors,
at Game with that handsom Lady Madam
Fresnoi;
and having no ready Money, she trusted him for some time, but at last sent to ask it of him; he sent her instead of her Money, a Copy of some Books he had written; telling her at the same time, that if she long'd for the Money, because without it, she had not wherewith to divert her self, at Game, as she had told him, in her Note to him; she might divert her self with those Books, till such time as he could satisfie her with Money. The Lady look'd upon this as a new way of paying Debts; but it tempted her to write Books as well as others, that by her own Compositions, she might satisfie her Creditors, when they ask'd Money of her.
But to return to my Subject. The Duke of
Savoy
was not at all well pleas'd, that his Daughter had only the Title
of Princess,
without having that of
Savoy
added to it: But if he could not have his Ambition satisfy'd in this matter, he try'd to have it in another. He caus'd a
Latin
Inscription to be set up, importing that after he had enlarged the Bounds of his Dominions, and recover'd the Keys of
Italy,
he had shut up the Temple of
Janus.
It cannot be said, that there was any manifest Falshood in this Inscription; yet it was somewhat odd, that he should boast of such mighty Wonders, and in so strange a manner too: For it was never heard before, that the losing of Battels, and a whole Province too, was the way for a Prince to enlarge his Dominions, or to reduce his Enemy to Reason. The Inscription was put above a triumphal Arch, which was erected at
Tarin,
to set off a Fire-work that was raised there, to testifie the Joy of that Place for the Peace: And it was all he could boast of from the beginning of the War; since he had lost not only his Dutchy, but the Battels of
Staffard
and
Marsaille
into the bargain. Yet the great Number of Enemies, which
France
had at that time, made his Majesty reckon, that he should be a considerable Gainer, though he should deliver up
Savoy
to him, and even the Town and Citadel of
Pignerol,
which were taken by Cardinal
Richeleu
in Person, if by that Means he could oblige him to a Peace. By this Treaty, the Duke was
ut into as good Circumstances, as if he himself had gain'd those Battels, and conquer'd a great Province.
The Duke having had the Pleasure to see two Dukes and Peers of
France
at his Court, resolv'd to revenge himself, and all the Princes of his Blood, of the Affront which
Henry
IV. put upon their Ancestor; and as that great King, had carrv'd it so high in his own House, as to make a Prince of his own Blood, take place of a Duke of
Savoy:
So the present Duke would needs carry it so high at his Court, as to make the Prince
de Carignan
(who is of his Family, and elder Brother to the Count
de Soissons
) take place of the two
French
Dukes, when they came to pay him a Visit at his House. Had the King's great Master of Horse been there, to see a Prince triumph over these two Dukes, he had thought himself sufficiently reveng'd of them; for they were so far from yielding him the place in his own House, that they disputed it with him wheresoever they met him. Perhaps he will not soon forget a Debate he had on this Score, with the Duke
de Montausier;
who having told him, that he never thought, nor was it ever heard, that a younger Brother, of the Family of
St. Maur,
would vie for Precedency with a Prince of a Sovereign House: The Duke
de Montausier
answer'd him saucily, that he would let him know, that both as a younger Brother of the Family of
St. Maur,
and as Duke and Peer of
France,
he would dispute the Precedency with him where ever they should meet. But though perhaps this Duke may have been much in the right upon the one Score, yet certainly he was not so upon the other; for a younger Brother, of the Family of
St. Maur,
or of any other House, can never be suppos'd equal to the Son of a Sovereign Prince. And, perhaps, he had not spoke after that manner, but that the Duke of
Lorrain
was, at that time, dispossed of his Dominions; so that he look'd upon the Princes of that House, but as younger Brothers of a good Family. And it was, no doubt, for this very reason, that much about the same time, the Count
de Crequi Berniulle,
enter'd into a Debate with the late Count
d' Harcourt,
younger Brother to the Duke
d' Elbeuf,
for he treated him just as if he had been his Equal; and was so very haughty, that when the Mareshals of
France
(before whom both of them were oblig'd to appear, to give account of their Quarrel) made some Distinction between them, and order'd him to go to the Prince's House, and there to beg Pardon for what had pass'd, his Behaviour to him was the same as before. It's true, he went to
Harcourt,
where the Prince dwelt at that time; but he caus'd drive his Coach to the very door of the Parlour, where the Mareshals of
France
had appointed the Count
d' Harcourt
to receive him: He found him there, with some Gentlemen of their Neighbourhood, for they themselves were near Neighbours. The Prince had caused Chairs to be set for them, and had also reserv'd one for the Count
de Crequi,
while he himself design'd to sit in an Elbow-chair: But so soon as the Count
de Crequi
(who was always of a great Presence of Mind) perceiv'd, that by this means, he intended to let him understand the Difference between a Prince of a sovereign House, and a Gentleman of a good Family; he skilfully warded off the blow; for after he had made those Compliments to the Prince, which the Mareshals of
France
order'd him to do, he went to the Chair that was reserv'd for him; but instead of sitting down in it, he put one knee upon the Seat of it, and took hold of the back of it with his Hands: The Count
d' Harcourt,
who had Orders prescrib'd him by the Mareshals of
France,
how to behave himself on that Occasion, as well as he; and who was obliged not to sit while he was standing, told him, that it would be more for his Conveniency to sit down in the Chair, and that at least, the Gentlemen who were there present, would take their Seats if he had once taken his: The Count
d' Crequi
answer'd him, that there was no need of Ceremonies among Neighbours as they were, and that he might sit down if he pleas'd; but as for himself, he was well enough as he was: With these words, he ended his Visit; and without giving the Prince time to make use of his Elbow-chair, took leave of him. The Prince was obliged to wait on him to the door of the Parlour; and the Distinction which he design'd to have made between them, turn'd more to his Shame than to his Honour. And he himself said plainly to one of the Gentlemen that was at his House, and in whom he put Confidence, that in his life-time, there was never any thing so mortified him, as the Count
de Crequi
's Behaviour to him that day. The Mortification, no doubt, was great enough; but he met with one incomparably greater, (if he was sensible of it) when the Prince of
Condee
cudgell'd him at
Luxenburg.
This Treatment lets us see, that every Man is Master in his own House; and that there is a great Difference between a Prince of the Blood, and any other Prince in
France,
though of a Sovereign House. However, the Prince of
Conde
's great Haughtiness was brought low soon after; I mean, when he went out of
France,
and betook himself to the Protection of the
Spaniards;
and took part with them, to the manifest Violation of that Allegiance which he ow'd his own Sovereign. I admire that we have not a full Account of all this, in the History that is written of his Life. It is well enough known, that so soon as he was at
Namur,
he found Reason to repent, that ever he had left his native Country. The Author of that History, methinks, should have told us all the Journeys he made from that Town to
Brussels,
and from
Brussels
to
Namur;
endeavouring to adjust the Difference about Precedency with the Archduke
Leopold,
who pretended to take place of him: He should have told us also, all that happen'd in a Debate of the like nature, between his most serene Highness, and the Duke of
Lorrain.
If it had been Cardinal
Mazarin
's good Pleasure to have made use of this Juncture, to persuade the Prince of
Condee
to return, he could have easily prevail'd; for he was almost mad, at the Treatment he met with: But that Minister, who thought it a piece of the best Policy he could contrive, to oblige him to quit
France,
was far from wishing his return thither. These, and a thousand other curious Things, which are wholly left out, deserv'd a place, in the History of that Prince's Life; and it would have been much more becoming an Historian, to have publish'd them, than to have entertain'd us, with so many Trifles and false Stories.
'Tis true, the Author did not well know the History of that Prince's Life; and he is so ingenuous, as to tell us so much, in the beginning of his Book; but since he acknowledged, that he was unable for such a Performance, why did he undertake it? There is nothing, in my Opinion, more inexcusable in an Author, than to confess his own Ignorance; for since he acknowledges his own Failings, why does he venture to write Books? A pretty Idea indeed, he gives us of his Works! Were it not a thousand times better, he should say nothing of them? And may he not reasonably expect the common Fate of all such Authors; that is, to make himself contemptible, as they always do? When an Author is so silly, as to condemn himself, he must not expect afterwards, that others will deal more gently by him, than he has done by himself.
But to return to my Subject. The Prince
de Carignan
having (as I have just now said) reveng'd his own Family and that of
Lorrain,
of the Affronts that had been put upon them; there were many Dukes and Peers of
France,
who found their own Honour concern'd in the Treatment, which the Dukes of
Froix
and
Choyseul
had met with; and therefore they consulted together at private meetings, if they should complain to his Majesty of these two Dukes, for having disgrac'd their Character, in bearing with a thing so unworthy of their Rank: But the wisest of them, did not think fit to do it; for they thought it more than probable, that before they went from
Versailles,
they had Instructions given them in Writing, how to behave themselves at
Turin;
and therefore they could not hope for Redress, though they should make their Complaint. In the mean time, the more Reasons the Duke of
Savoy
had to be well satisfied, the more did he caress the two Dukes; his very being an
Italian,
makes him dissemble naturally. The only thing he had to wish for, to make him compleatly satisfy'd, was, that
Monsieur Louvois
had been still alive; that he might have seen, with what Art and Skill he could revenge himself of Injuries that were done him; for as it was he, who had first provok'd him to engage in a War against the King, by the Slights he had given him upon many Occasions: He would, no doubt, have been exceedingly pleas'd, could he but have ask'd him, what was now become of all that Haughtiness and Contempt, with which he treated all the Sovereign Princes, whose Power was inferiour to his Majesty's.
This Prince having dealt after this manner by the two Hostages, and having nothing else that could vex them; thought it convenient to send them back to
France,
without waiting till his Daughter's Marriage should be accomplish'd. The pretence he used was, that he had so much Confidence in his Majesty, that he did not desire any other Security but his Word: He said also to the two Dukes, that it was only for form sake, that ever he had ask'd Hostages of the King; and that he was now glad of the Opportunity he had, to let all
Europe
see, that he did not in the least doubt, but that his Majesty would faithfully perform every thing he had promis'd; that therefore they might return into
France
as soon as they pleas'd: yet they would not adventure to do this till they should receive his Majesty's Orders.
The King has also learn'd to dissemble, not only from the Lessons that Cardinal
Mazarin
taught him, but also by long Experience in Government, and in the Exercise of a Sovereign Power; which has taught him, that the Art of dissembling is one of the most necessary Qualifications for a King: He first assured the Duke of
Savoy
of his Thankfulness for his Generosity, and then he order'd the two Dukes to return to
France.
At the same time, his Majesty sent an Ambassador into that Country; it was the Count
de Briord,
who belong'd to the Prince of
Condee,
without whose Knowledge he had made an Interest for that Employment; for which his Highness was highly offended at him, but dar'd not shew his Resentments, for fear of a Reprimand from the King.
The Feast of Christmass was now at hand, and the Dutchess
du Lude
caused a little
Jesus
to be made, for a Present to the young Princess, after the custom of
Italy.
She found it upon her Toilet at her Levee; and the Case into which it was put, being of most exquisite and curious Work, with panes of Chrystal, she was altogether charmed with it. But upon Newyears Day the King made her a much more magnificent Present; for he gave her an Apron with Jewels to the value of an Hundred thousand Franks in it. The Dauphin gave her another, which had cost him Forty thousand Franks: and these two New-years Gifts were accompanied with a third Present from the King, of all the Jewels that had ever belong'd to his own Queen, and to the late Dauphiness. The Count
de Thoulouse,
after the King's Example, gave so magnificent New-years Gifts, that they seem'd too great by much, for a private Person. No doubt, but what he did, was by the King's Allowance; and that even his Majesty advised him to it. But whatever was in that, it was to the Marquis
d' Antin
(who is his Brother by the Mother's side) that he made those rich Presents; and the whole Business was manag'd thus: The Marquiss
d' Antin
being gone to dine with his Brother in Law the Marquis
de Barbesieux,
he found under his Mapkin a Billet which was folded; he knew not what was the Import of it; and the Marquis
de Barbesieux
(who probably had put it there by his Majesty's Order) having forbidden him to blus
,
is Lady should not know of it; he told him also, that all the Company would allow him to read it, and that they would refer it to his own Discretion, whether he would tell them what was in it or not; for they would not at all vex him. The Marquis
d' Antin
arose from the Table, and went to the Window to read it. He found, that instead of coming from a Lady, as he at first had imagin'd, it was come from the Count
de Thoulouse,
who took the Liberty to call him a big hoggish Fellow, for he look'd like one that had got enough of Food in his time: But he had no Reason to complain of this Freedom, since as the Contents of the Billet made him see clearly, that it proceeded from true Friendship: For the Count told him, that two years ago, he had resolved to give him a Pension of Ten thousand Livres a year; and that as it was but just he should have the Benefit of it from that time; so now he gave him notice, that he had not only settled it on him for the time coming, but had also order'd his Treasurer immediately to pay him 20000 Livers for the two past years. The Marquis
d' Antin,
being come back to the Table, told the Company, that they were not much mistaken, if they thought that this was a Billet
doux,
that at least he himself took it for one; and he was sure he was in the right of it; and for that he would appeal to the Judgment of those present. He then told them the Contents of it; and so soon as they had heard them, they all own'd, that it was incomparably better than any Billet that could come even from the handsomest Lady. They had all the Reason in the World to think so, since 10000 Livers a year, and 20000 of ready Money is well worth any Mistress; especially now adays, when the World is so chang'd, that whereas formerly the Men sought after the Ladies, these do now seek after the Men; and almost all of them are become effronted to the highest Degree; and carry on their Debauchery so far, that many of them fuddle as if they were to gain no small Honour and Reputation by it: and since the Cordial Liquors came in Fashion, they make use of that Pretence, to drink of every thing that pleases their Pallate, not excepting even Drandy it self, which they drink as if it were sweet Water; by which we may guess how well they relish other Liquors: and seeing their Tast is so viciated, that they love even that which Porters themselves detested not many years ago; it is not very probable, that they'll be at much Pains to resist those Temptations, that procure those Pleasures, which are much more natural than the other; and which (in the Opinion of some People) are not altogether so unworthy of the Female Sex. And the Truth is, the Ladies are generally sensible enough of this, and are become so impudent in those lewd Practices, that one, whom I know very well, and who is none of the least considerable about the Court, knowing some time ago that her Gallant was to be married, besought him to call at her House as he return'd from Church. It was the Niece of this
Messalina
whom he married; and the Niece's Modesty is as great as the Aunts Impudence: However, her Gallant not being able to refuse her Desire, was no sooner in her Chamber, but she ask'd another Favour of him, which was, that he would pass that day a bed with her; that at night her Niece might have nothing but what she had left. The Bridegroom stood in great need of Money, and knowing that she rewarded liberally, granted her Request; while the Friends, who were invited to the Marriage, were searching throughout all the parts of the Neighbourhood to know what was become of him. Yet this is not the only Court Lady of this Stamp. But every one of them were lash'd and expos'd sufficiently, in some Carols and Lampoons that were compos'd and publish'd soon after the Princess came to
France.
There we had the true and genuine History of every one of them, without the least Disguise. 'Tis true, it is not well done to discover to the World the Faults of other People; yet the exposing of them thus, was useful to persuade many of them to reflect upon their own Conduct, and to be more circumspect in time coming. But the worst thing of those Carols was, that they were so full of gross Immoralities, that many who had but a small share of Religion detested them. The King (who was never of an Humour to bear with things of that nature, and less now than ever, that he is become devout in good earnest) made a deal of noise about them; and said openly before all the Court, that he had one good Counsel to give the Author of them, which was, that he would make his Escape in time, thereby to prevent the Punishments which he must inevitably undergo, if ever he come to be discover'd: If the Author had follow'd this Counsel, it had been the same thing as to have accus'd himself; and therefore, whoever he was, he put as good a Face on it, as they could do who were sensible of their own Innocence. There is not the least doubt but that he belongs to the Court, and that he is one of those who are best acquainted with it; for no body else could know so well, the History of every one's Life as that Author did; though after all he was mistaken in some things: However, after many had been suspected, and among the rest, a Lady of very great Quality, because her Genius bends a little that way; it came at last to be generally believed, that the Chevalier de
Bouillon
was the man, but because there was no certain Proof of it, and that all that was said, was founded only on suspicion, he got no harm by it. The King was not satisfied that he had signified his displeasure against this Author, who had thus signalized himself for an impious Wretch, and perhaps for a Lyar too; (for it is not probable, that all the nasty things that are in those Carolls, can be litterally true) but his Majesty made it known also, that he would not take it well, if any body should sing them. But as there are some things above the Power of Kings, how great soever their Authority may be: So this Order took not much effect: every body sung them as before, except that they were cautious not to do it, in the hearing of those, who they thought would give an Account of it to his Majesty. For we must understand, that there are abundance of spies about the Court; and though some of them are known, as the Marquis
de Termes,
and some others, yet there are of them who act their parts so cunningly, that there is nothing they are less suspected of, than of being what they truly are.
It was not only in these Carolls and Songs, that the Conduct of the Ladies was publickly censur'd: a certain Person, who is well known in the World, for an Imployment of a quite other kind, than what he is naturally fitted for, resolv'd to censure them also, in the same manner that he has for a long time, censur'd all mankind. As he sets up for a Jester and maker of Ballads, he made some upon the Accou
rements, which the Ladies now make use of, that they may be ready for an Engagement; he brought them forth in slippers, and quilted Wastcoats; ready to enter the Lifts: and though he nam'd no body, yet, as they who censure others, must not expect many thanks, especially when vicious customs are laid so deep, that it s next to impossible to root them out, so his performances were so unacceptable, that as a Reward of his pains, he was soon born down and oppressed with a World of Censures and Reproaches. And that much after the same manner, that he had reproached others; that is, by Ballads and Lampoons: but with this difference, that whereas, in th
se which he had compos'd, he had been so civil, as not to name any body;
et they dealt so rudely by him, as to name him expresly; and, which was harder upon him, that they might chastize him yet farther, they sent Copies of their Lampoons to his three Best Friends, the Cardinal
de Bouillon,
the Duke
de Chawnes,
and the Marchioness
de Louvois;
whose houses he frequented daily, and who could not easily be without him. They were not well pleas'd, that others should be so unjust, as to calumniate him, who had never calumniated any person, because, as they said he had not nam'd any, in the Songs which he had made: Yet they cannot say, but that since the time, that from being Master of Requests, he had dwindl'd into a Poet of the
Pontneuf;
he has fallen foul upon several Persons of Quality, without being so circumspect; and therefore he must not expect, that all the World will be so favourable to him, as was the Cardinal and his other Friends. And as there was no great injustice in finding fault with what he had done, as to the Ladies; so, many others as well as he were of opinion, that they had even done best, to have laid by their sl
ppers and Wastcoats. The thrust he gave in, being thus smartly pareed, and return'd upon himself, the poor Fellow was forc'd to shut himself up in his little Closet, without daring to peep abroad for some days. But as every man returns soon to his natural Temper, and as the Ladies too did not fail to provoke him anew, not to spare them, as hitherto he had done; we have since had a thousand Ballads of his making, where he represents them prettily enough.
If Lewdness was so ordinary at this time among the Women, it was not much less so, among the Men; but especially they were taken, with a very Frenzy and Madness, for which they could make no Apology; for besides the Vice of excessive drinking, which many of them were addicted to, rather thro' bad custom, than by natural inclination; they had got into an humour of preferring the Women Players of the Playhouse, and the Opera, to their own Wives, though never so handsome; and their Husbands were much to blame for it, if they were not modest and circumspect. And thus for the leavings of a great many other People, they forsook their own Wives, whom they might have enjoy'd all alone; yea, and provoked them too, to become common. For nothing more provokes a Wife to be unfaithful to her Husband, than when he slights her, and prefers other Women to her.
The Lords of the greatest Quality, were not more exempted from this vice, than were others; though they be more obliged than other People, to give good Example, for the higher and greater a Man's Station and Character is, the more is his behaviour exposed to the view of the publick.
There was one of them among the rest, who fell in Love with a Woman of the Opera, which very much vexed his Friends and Relations; but there was one thing encouraged him in his amours, and serv'd to harden him in his shameful and lewd Practices, and that was, that many of the most topping Ladies about the Court, went a purpose to the Opera, that they might see his Mistress, and speak highly to her advantage; for those who enter once into a vicious way of living, can applaud Vice, with as little remorse, as others applaud Virtue. Those who were concern'd in this Nobleman, had perceiv'd sometime before, that it was necessary to observe his conduct narrowly: and therefore they put a wise and sober Man to attend him, who might give them an account of his Behaviour. But as youth has an aversion to People of this sort, and usually considers them, as Pedagogues, whom they cannot bear with; so this young Lord endeavour'd, so soon as he could, to free himself of the bonds, which his friends had put upon him. All the young Gentlemen who made their court to him, confirm'd him as much as they could, in
His Resolution;
and they call'd his Observer by the name of
Caius Garrulus,
which sounded not unlike his own name, and they added an Epithite to it, which was somewhat suitable to his Employment. This young Gallant's Father, was extreamly concern'd, when he knew that his Son was so fond of this Actress: He spoke to him of it, as a thing which would ruin his Reputation. And at length he spoke to him, not only as from himself, but as from the King, to whom he knew that he pay'd very much Deference. And that his Counsels might make the greater impression upon his Son's mind, he told him, that they who were fond of that sort of People, met often with sad misfortunes; and that his Rank and Quality did not at all secure him against the treachery of a
Coquette,
and that if he must have a Mistress, he should at least look for one, with whom he could live with greater safety than he could do with her. Notwithstanding all the Deference he had for the King, and the Duty he ow'd to his Father, he made no other Answer, but that he would do all that was in his power, to satisfie both of them, but that he found so strong an inclination for that Woman, that he knew not if it was in his power to disengage himself altogether from her, on a sudden. He continued (notwithstanding all this) to visit her, and having told her every word his Father had spoke to him, they agreed that he should not pay her a visit for some days.
Caius Garrulus
advertised the young Gallants Friends of the visit he had paid, maugre all his Fathers Remonstrances to the contrary; upon which account, his Father spoke once more to him, and told him, that he must be very incorrigible, in that he had so soon forgot what he had said to him formerly; and that being of so high a birth, as he was he ought at least to have delay'd that visit, for some days, thereby to give some proof of his obedience. He took him to task so seriously, as that the young Beau might have been perswaded, to reflect as seriously upon his own behaviour: He could not deny, but that he had paid her a visit, but the answer he gave, was, that with all due regard, to the Deference he ow'd him, he thought that he had no just ground to reprove him; That Civility, and good Manners, had obliged him to go and tell her, that he was peremptorily discharg'd to have any more Correspondence with her, and that having once had a kindness for her, he could do no less; for she might have been justly enrag'd against him, had he cast her off, without telling her why. That in the mean time, notwithstanding the great desire he had, to give him full satisfaction in that matter, yet he could not but own, that at the last visit, he had found her more charming than ever; that it troubled him much when he reflected upon his own weakness, but that all he could do in obedience to his Commands, was, to pray to God, for Strength and Resolution to obey them. His Father understood well enough, the meaning of all this, and conceiving no great hopes of him, he left him, being much out of humour, at his answer. It was two or three days before the Son paid another visit to his Mistress, yet he sent Letters to her every hour, and gave her notice, that next day, his Father was to give a splendid Ball, and that she must not fail to be there; but that she should come disguised in such and such a manner, that he might know her by her Garb. This Ball was the finest that had been seen of a long time, and all the Court was present at it, but this young Lord could not as yet see his Mistress there, which put him out of humour, at a Lady, who would fain have had the same Interest in his affection, that the Actress had, and flattered her self, with hopes, that if she was successful, his Father and his other Friends, would not find so much fault with it: She began to rally him for being out of Humour, that she might thereby find a way, to bring about her own purposes, but he was not at leisure to give her an answer, for he saw his Mistress come into the Ball that very moment. She was disguised in Man's dress, and he went immediately, and spoke to a young Princess, who was often engag'd in the Dance, that with the first opportunity she would please to take out the young Spark, who was in such and such a dress, pointing to his Mistress. She promis'd to do it, and was as good as her word.
Caius Garrulus,
who had always an eye upon him, having observ'd, that he look'd much to that side, where the new Masker was, and that immediately after he had spoken to that Princess, he began to suspect what it was he had said to her, yet he would let no body know his Jealousie, till he should be fully assured that he was in the right. And observing this new Masker very narrowly, the more he viewed him, the more was he perswaded that it was his Master's Mistress. By this time there was one came and took out the young Princess to dance, and immediately after, she took out this new Masker, which let
Caius Garrulus
clearly see that he was not mistaken, for he knew so well by her dancing, that it was she, whom he suspected, that tho' he had not had any other presumptions, that alone was sufficient to confirm him in his suspicions. This Masker, who was truly the young Lord's Mistress, after she had danced with the young Princess, was so affronted as to take out her Gallants Lady to dance with her.
Caius Garrulus
could bear no longer with her Impudence, but went and told his Masters Father, who it was that had taken out his daughter in Law to dance: He had a good mind at first to have caus'd to throw her over the Window, and so had the young Lords Mother. But when they had reriected, that that would make too much noise, both of them resolved to try calmer methods, for breaking off this correspondence: they caused to inform him, that she was false to him, and that others conversed familiarly with her; and unless he would give up converse with her, it was not safe for his own Lady to bed with him. But though they endeavoured under hand, to raise all the jealousies imaginable, in his mind, yet he would believe nothing. After these endeavours, his Father was affraid, lest what he would have had his Son to believe, should prove true in good earnest; and therefore he appointed a Woman, to attend his Sons Mistress; and to observe her so narrowly, that it should not be in her power to prove false to his Son.
This young Lord was not the only Person, who was fond of the Women of Opera and Playhouse, contrary to the duty he ow'd both to himself, and to his Lady; there were many others who after his Example, did the same thing; and but too many who had done it before him.
But among all those, whose inconsiderateness is the most astonishing, the
e is not one more inexcusable, than a certain Duke, who was old enough, to have given greater Proofs of his prudence; besides that he had married a young Princess, of incomparable Beauty, and who deserv'd beyond all comparison, to have been more esteemed, than all the Mistresses, he could find among that sort of Women. But no consideration would prevail with him, against lewdness, and he was not only unfaithful to her, but left her for good and all, and went to keep House with his new Mistress: Before this happened, his Father, who was one of the greatest and richest Lords about the Court; had carried his Son's Lady, to his own Seat, in the Countrey, while her Husband was in the Army. Her Mother who lov'd her most tenderly, was loath to part with her, and had much rather she had stay'd with her, but could not obtain it; Yet her Daughter wrote to her soon after, and besought her to imploy all her interest with the King; that he would please to give orders that she should return, for she was not at all safe, with her Father in Law who had spoken to her of Amours, notwithstanding her relation to him; and that he had spoken so very earnestly, that no time must be lost; if she had any concern for her honour, and the peace of her mind. It is not certain if all this was literally true, or if it was only concerted, between the Mother and the Daughter, to get her brought out of that Countrey, where her Father in Law dwelt, and of which she was wearied, that she might live with her Mother, who longed so much for her company. Whatever was in this, the Lady having spoke of it to his Majesty, obtained an order to the Dukes Father, to send his Daughter in Law back to
Paris.
He was enraged against both of them, for the affront which they had put upon him; and therefore though he ought to have been the first, who should have reproved his Son for conversing with his new Mistress, which now began to appear; yet he was at no great pains, to disswade him from it; he alledg'd they had served him a very Scurvy trick, and he was glad to revenge himself by this connivance. But if he thought this a good way to be revenged of them, he had very soon reason to be satisfied with it, for his Son became so passionately in love with this new
, or rather he became such a very Fool, as when he knew that she was big with Child, he left his Wife, and went and lived with her: and his Father having given him no great yearly revenue, when he married him (though he himself had 400000 Livers a Year, besides great Summs of Money in his Coffers, and not one Farthing of Debt,) he found himself so
, because of the two Families he had to provide for, and the charges he had been at in the Camp; that he resolved to do, what People will scarcely believe of one of his quality, that was, to live without Coach, and without that great number of Pages and Lackeys, that Men of his quality usually have about them, and thus he reduced all his expences for the Winter time, to a very small matter; having only one Lackey for himself, and another for his Mistress; and these he put in gray Cloaths, that when he took a Hackney to go abroad, neither he nor they might be known; The Women Servants wereas few in number, as the Lackeys, she had only a Chamber-maid and a Nurse, and this last serv'd with both hands, that is, she was Servant of the House, and Nurse at the same time. His Friends could bear no longer with his inconsiderateness, and this disgraceful way of living; they spoke to him of it, as a thing that would stain his honour to such a degree, that it would be impossible for him, ever to retrieve it, and that he might not be altogether confounded with shame, as he ought to be for such Practises, they told him that this Woman had certainly bewitched him; that at least they had reason to think so; since it was so unnatural a thing in him, to part with the most lovely Princess in the World, and to keep house with a beggarly Strumpet, whose very Trade and Profession, was enough to make any body disgust her, though she was a Thousand times more charming in her Person than she seem'd to be. All the Answer he made them was, that they spoke so of her, only because they did not know her: But if they had conversed a little with her, they would soon be of another mind; in this they could not agree with him, and having taken leave of him, without being able to perswade him to alter his measures, they were grieved that he continued so obstinately to disgrace himself.
When they found this, they caused to speak underhand to the Woman her self, and threatn'd, that they would have recourse to Royal Authority, to have her shut up in a Convent, or in some Prison, if she would not even perswade the Duke to part with her. One in her condition could not be well pleased with such a proposal, and it quite confounded her. She knew that those threatnings were not groundless, for she had known a Woman kept in Prison Seven or Eight Years, because she had been Mistress to the Count
D'Harcourt,
whom we have already spoken of. And therefore being resolved to prevent so great a mischief, she promised to do all that was in her power, to satisfy them; and she was as good as her word, for that very day after she had on set purpose, made a show of melancholy to the Duke; she told him that she could not any longer converse with him, as hitherto she had done; because her conscience reproached her continually with her guilt, and represented to her every moment, that she only was the cause that he abandoned his Lady the Dutchess; and that every body blamed her for it, as no doubt she deserved to be, insomuch that was there nothing but that one consideration, she was obliged to tell him, that he must resolve to break up with her, since their converse was equally shameful, and sinful to them both. The Duke was surprised at a discourse which he so little expected; but having still the more esteem of her upon this very account; because the two things she made use of as a pretence for this divorce, are agreeable to a Lover, that is his own interest and the virtue of the Person he loves; he did all he could to make her change her thoughts, but the fears of a Prison made her deaf to all his reasons and to all his caresses; she persisted in her resolution to give over all converse with him, and knowing nothing could more prevail with him to cause him to reflect upon his past conduct, than his own Lady's charming Beauty, which was indeed incomparably above hers, she told him that if she was as beautiful as his Lady, and if his Lady had nothing more charming about her than she had, she would not think it strange that he should forsake her, and live with her; but being obliged to confess, that all the advantage was upon his Ladies side, she could not suffer any longer, that he should be called a Man of so ill a taste; as to choose the worse, and to forsake the better. He wou'd fain have perswaded her, that only her modesty made her speak so of herself, that if his thoughts were asked in that matter, he would soon tell just the contrary, that he was as capable as any other to judge of their Beauties, having conversed so much with her. But his Mistress finding how he answered her, and that it was impossible to make him gainsay any thing of all this, she betook herself to her first Argument; that her Conscience would not allow her to converse any longer with him.
The Duke considered all these discourses, as the effect of some secret discontent, that had put her into an ill humour; and that he might bring her back to her ordinary Gaiety, he offer'd her some Presents, but she refus'd them generously, and as the most disinteressed Person in the World. In the mean time she gave notice to those who had threatned her, that she was using her utmost endeavours to satisfie them, but if they were desirous that she should succeed, it was needful they should do something upon their parts. They bestirred themselves immediately, knowing that it is best to strike the Iron while it is hot; and they came a purpose to wait on the Duke. He would have resisted all the Batteries, they could have raised against him, had they been alone; but his Mistress treating him with so much Indifference, and like a Woman who was absolutely resolv'd, to abandon her former Vices; he told them that there needed no more Importunities, for he was resolved to give them full satisfaction: But if they would know the true reason, why he resolv'd so; it was because his Mistress had determin'd him in it; she who alone had a more absolute Empire over him, than it was possible for all of them to have, when they were united together; that he chearfully and frankly own'd so much to them, hoping, that for their parts, they would also acknowledge that she was a much worthier Person than he could express: an evident Proof of which was, that she was fully resolved, to bid adieu to all sorts of Intrigues and Amours; a thing very unusual for Women, after they have once been accustomed to those Pleasures. But for her, he told them, that he had so good an opinion of her, he could be surety for her, she should never return to them, that at least he would comfort himself, with those thoughts of her. His Friends did not trouble themselves, to dispute this matter with him, nor were they such fools as to inform him, how much they had frighted her with their threatnings, they thought it enough, that they had brought him to their own Terms, and it was all one to them, by what means soever it was done; the only thing they desired was, how to bring the matter to an happy Issue, now that it was so well begun. They went to his Ladies Parents, and desired, they might concurr with them in reconciling them together. But the Dutchess's Mother, (who after she had once taken back her Daughter to her house, could never resolve to part with her) told them resolutely that she would never consent to it. The Dukes Father gave them much the same Answer, for he continued to be extreamly angry, at what the young Princess had said of him. But, as Men ordinarily yield sooner to Reason than Women do, he was at last prevail'd with, but upon condition, that when his Daughter in Law should be reconcil'd to her Husband, she should not see her Mother any more. This was to throw Oyl into the Flame, and serv'd only to provoke the Ladies Indignation, so that she withstood their Reconcilement more than ever. The Prince her Husband, was much wiser and more reasonable than she was: He told her that by the Laws both of God and Man; they were oblig'd to contribute their endeavours for reconciling Husband and Wife; even though they had but small hopes to succeed in it: But that in this case she was much more oblig'd to it, than others were; because it was the Concern of her Son in law, and her Daughter. But for all this, she continued obstinate, and she had such an Ascendant over him, that he us'd to do nothing but what she was pleas'd with, it was at last found necessary to speak to the King of it.
His Majesty was of the Fathers opinion, and thought that in procuring such an Agreement, they ought not to stand upon Punctilios; and therefore order'd the Dutchess to follow her Husbands Advice.
The Condition propos'd by her Son in law's Father, that she should not see her Daughter, was qualified, and she was allow'd to see her sometimes, but not above twice a Week, lest the Dukes Father should take it amiss. It went much against the Ladies Stomach, that they should set bounds to the Kindness she had for her Daughter; and therefore she propos'd, that if she was not to see her Daughter but twice a Week; then her Son in law's Father, should not be allow'd to see her at all, and much less that they should live in the same House. They found out also a Medium for this, which was that he might see her, as often as his Son would allow him; and they told the Lady, that her Son in law, was more concerned than she was, that his Father should not see her Daughter; if all was true, that was said of him. After all these things were concerted, nothing remain'd, but to know, what the Duke would do with his Mistress and his Child; and that he would pitch upon a day for being fully reconciled to his Dutchess. As to the first, he promis'd to allow them a Pension, which perhaps he has not been over careful to perform; yet I will not vouch this for a Truth; but because he was then as passionately in love with her as ever, I may presume, he was prodigal enough of his Promises, but perhaps, he has been as sparing in performing them; for Lovers easily forget their Promises, when they are not any more to see the Person, to whom they are made. As to the other matter, he made no difficulty in it; the day was appointed, and there was a new Marriage solemniz'd. Before he went to Bed with his Wife, their Parents paid their Compliments to them, as if they had been, but a new married Couple: And their other Friends, after their example, did the same; in fine, they were both together, carried to the Opera, and to other publick places, that those who had heard of their Divorce, might see that the greatest Follies do not last always.
One would think, that such an example as this, might have had, a good Influence, upon those, who werefallen into the same frensy, that is upon those, who made but small account of their Wives, for the sake of these naughty Creatures; but we have not hitherto seen, any good that it hath done to a certain Duke, who though he has not as yet parted with his Wife, as the other did; yet, he lives not in much better Terms with her; one of these unhappy Women of the Playhouse, having by some means engaged his Affections. has so bewitchd him, that of a long time, he has had no Converse with his Wife; and vet she's very young, and which is more, she's a Lady of great Vertue, which is so valuable an Accomplishment, yea, and so singular in this Age, as to deserve that a Husband should esteem it much more than he does.
'Tis true, she is not so great a beauty, as is an Aunt of her Husbands, who yet has not been much more fortunate, though she be a Lady of great Virtue, as well as her Neice. This Lady was married to a Person of Honour, and a Man of as good Sen
e as was about the Court, which is another reason why he should have used her well; for the more a Man has of Honour and true Sense, the more will he endeavour to acquit himself of his Duty. But he was so desperately in Love with a young Lady, who is also of great vertue, and is at this time Superiour of the Maids of St.
Marie de Chaliot,
that he could not open his eyes, to see how happy he might have been in his own Wife. And he did even much worse, than did the two Dukes I last spoke of, for he did not so much as bed with her, the first Night of the Marriage: And if we will believe the accounts we have at Court, he suffered her to continue always a Maid, though they liv'd a long time together, and though there was never any publick breach between them. His Father, who was also a Man of good Sense, and so far from approving his want of affection to this Lady, that he was extreamly vexed at it, when he perceived it, and told him his thought of it, very freely; and finding the Arguments he made use of, made him nothing the wiser Man, he be thought himself of others, and try'd if perhaps they would be of greater force: He told him, that laying aside the authority of a Father, he would now only advise him as his true Friend, and that all he had to say to him, was, that all the Court look'd upon his Wife, as a very agreeable Lady, and that among them who esteem'd her much, she might perhaps find one whom she would think worthy of her Affection, that the best means how to prevent that, was for him to perform the duty of a Husband to her, otherwise perhaps another might supply his place. This advice was sound and wholsome, but as this young Gentleman had shut his Eyes, and would not take notice of his Lady's true worth, so he stopt his Ears at his Father's Reasons, and held on his course, without ever troubling himself, with the thoughts of his future destiny. Yet the Horoscope, which his Father had cast for him, prov'd false, for there was never a Lady at Court, made her self be less talk'd of than she did However, her Husband died, and she kept for a second Husband, that, which is so much valued in a Bride. She was reputed a Widow, but was truly a Maid when she was married the second time And as if she had been born under the strangest Planet that ever was. 'Tis generally believed that this second Husband, has not as yet made her change her condition. He was one of the handsomest men in
France,
yet altogether unfit for the Marriage Bed; and therefore his first Wife did not care much to dwell with him, though there was never any publick rupture between them, and though she might have made a very good figure at Court too: But she chose rather to leave him there alone, and to revenge her self of her hard fate, upon the Harts, and other wild Beasts, with whom she made War so long as she liv'd. 'Tis true, that when she was a dying, she made a Will in his Favours, which would seem to import quite other things, than what I have been just now alledging; for it's seld
m that a Wife will be so obliging to a Husband, unless she have first receiv'd of his Favours: But all Women are not of the same humour, and it must be said to the advantage of this Lady, that as to this matter, she was less concern'd, and much more modest, than many others are. Hunting was that which she took greatest Pleasure in, and because her Husband treated her always very kindly, save, in that, which most of other Women think the chief and essential part of a Husband's kindness. It seems she made no great account of it; And she had rather, that her Husband should enjoy her estate, than some of her Relations, whom she did not much esteem. She gave the trust of her Will, to the Duke
De Lesdeguires,
but he being surprised with a sudden Death, when he was least thinking of it, and when he had lived but to half the Age, that by the course of Nature he might have done; it created much trouble afterwards to her Husband. Yet this was a seasonable relief to him, and he had much need of it, to repair the breaches he had made in his own estate, in the time he had been at Court.
As the Court is the place of the World, where the greatest number of extraordinary things fall out: so about the same time, that the terms of the Reconciliation (which I spoke of) were agreed to; There was one thing happened that did not sound well, for one of the principal Actors in it, and it has made People have but an ill Opinion of a Man, whom we now bring upon the Stage.
We must know then, that among other methods which the King had taken, to raise Money, for maintaining the War, he had publish'd an Edict, for the sale of some Governments, within the h
art of the Kingdom; and there was more need of Money, for the purchase of them, than either of Service or Merit. There is a little Town nam'd
Rue,
lying towards
Abbeville
in
Piccardy,
and the late Duke
d' Elbeuf,
was formerly Governour of it. And his Son the present Duke
d' Elbeuf,
finding that it would be very convenient for him, that he had the Government of the same place, resolv'd to purchase it. There was one Monsieur
d' Augancourt,
a Gentleman of that Country, who was neither rich nor much taken notice of, some 25 Years ago, but has now a good estate, and lives in plenty, because he belong'd to the late Marquis
de Louvois,
and carry'd his
Portofolio,
when that Minister went to do busine
s with the King. This Gentleman, I say, design'd also to purchase it; and so soon as he knew that the Duke
d' Elbeuf
had the same design, he took an odd method, to carry it against him; a method, which any other Man than he, would have been afraid of, but he was for bold Adventures, that he might bring about his Designs, and because he had not been altogether unsuccessful in another business, wherein he was once like to have been quite ruin'd, he hop'd he might succeed well enough in this; especially seeing what Friends or Interests soever, the Duke
d Elbeuf
could make, he was still much less to be fear'd, than was his former
Antagonist
the Marquis
de Barbesieux.
Yea it was not only with him he had contended, but with the whole Family of his Old Master the Marquis
de Louvois,
whose Memory he endeavour'd to blacken. I shall first give an Account of this Affair, and then I shall return to his business with the Duke
d'Elbeufe.
The Marquis
de Louvois
being dead, this
d' Augincourt,
who had the honour to be known to the King, because he had so very often, carry'd this Minister
's Portofolio,
to the Door of his Majesties Closet; having asked and obtained a secret audience, told him, that he thought it his Duty to advertise him of one thing, which his Majesty knew nothing of before; which was, that his Majesty had always believed that all the projects which the late Marquis
de Louvois
had presented to him, were of his own contrivance, but it was far from being so, and that that Minister had always had recourse to him, when he had any thing to do of Consequence: That it was he who had projected such and such things, and that the Marquis
de Louvois
was never able of himself, to do any thing to purpose; that his undertakings at
Maintenon,
were a sufficient proof of this, that at that place he had committed a great many faults, which he had never fallen into, had he but followed his advice, that he was ready to discover these faults and oversights to his Majesty, who, because of his great skill in Fortification, would soon be convinced, that what he said was true. The King who is truly skilful in these things, and perhaps much more so, than many People believe of him, finding that he offer'd to prove to a demonstration all the oversights, which he charg'd his late Minister with, gave him, upon that Account a fuller hearing than otherways he would have done.
D' Augincourt
having said whatever he thought fit for his own advantage, and the King knowing that in some things he was in the right, though in some also he was mistaken; was so far from telling him, that he did not approve of his ingratitude to his Master, to whom he had been obliged of his Estate, that though these were his Sentiments, yet on the contrary he told him, that he would continue the Pension to him, which he had given him upon the Marquis
D' Louvois
's recommendation:
D' Augincourt,
though he was in some measure pleased with the Kings bounty, because the cont
nuing of the Pension, was a Proof that his Majesty approved of what he had said, yet he was not altogether satisfied, for he had flattered himself, with the hopes of a much greater reward; and that his Majesty would make use of him, in his secret affairs, of which he pretended to have the Key; and expecting that the King would bestow the late Marquis
D'Louvois
place upon him, he continued as often as he could find occasion, to speak all the ill of him he could think of. 'Tis impo
ble for one to behave himself after this manner at Court, but that a Minister shall have notice of it, and the Marquis
D'Barbiseux
was soon advertised of it, and he was struck to the very Heart with it; especially when he knew that the King had granted him his Pension; by which he understood that his Majesty believed many of the things which he had alledged against his Fathers Memory. These thoughts galled him so much, that he resolved to be revenged on him, and meeting with him that very day, as he was going to the Kings Appartments, he was not Master enough of his Passions, for at first sight he gave him very harsh Language as he well deserved, but
D' Augincourt
who flattered himself, that since the King had heard him so favourably, he would certainly grant him the honour of his Protection, answered him with as much insolence, as if he had never been his Fathers domestick. This insolent behaviour raised the Marquis
D'Barbiseux
's passion to such a height, that he himself forgot the respect he owed to the place he was in; he took him by the Cravate and would have certainly strangled him, had not his Friends put him in mind, that the King would be highly offended at what he was doing. He yeilded to their reasons and went immediately to the King, and told him, that he came to beg his pardon, for something he had done in a sudden fit of passion; that his Majesty knew how unaccountable
D' Augincourts
ingratitude was, towards his Father, tho' it was to him he owed all he had; that he had met with him accidentally at the door of the Antichamber; and not being able to command his passion, he had offered some violence to him, of which he humbly acknowledged himself guilty, that tho' his passion lasted but a moment, because he had reflected upon it, yet he did not pretend to be excusable upon that account, and therefore he would submit to all the punishments, that his Majesty should order for him, only he besought him to consider how natural it was for a Son, to be sensibly t
ched with every thing that concerned his Fathers Honour. The King having heard him calmly, answered him, that it was good for him that he had so soon reflected upon his fault, and had put a stop to the course of his passion; but that he had done better if he had reflected sooner upon it, so as not to have committed it, that yet he would pardon him upon the account of what a Son ow'd to his Father; but upon condition always, that he should never again fall into the like enormity. The Marquis
De Barbiseux
acted like a wise man, thus to prevent the other in addressing himself to the King; for scarcely had he done it, when
D' Augincourt
presented himself before his Majesty, and demanded justice for the ill treatment he had met with from his Minister. The King told him he should have it, but that he would first examine how the matter went; but seeing he had once promised to pardon the Marquis
D' Barbiseux,
all the satisfaction
D' Augincourt
could ever obtain, was that his Majesty told him, he had given him such a reprimand as was proper, and that he would be wiser in time coming, he told him also, that when one had been a menial Servant to a Man, as he had been to the Marquis
D'Louvois,
he ought to behave himself respectfully towards his Children.
D'Augincourt
might have learned from this, to have been wiser afterwards, than to contend with one that was above him, yet never thinking that the same accident might befall him, if he fell again into the same Errour; he no sooner formed the design of carrying the Government of
Rue
against the Duke
D'Elbeuf,
but he gave in a memoir against him to the King, which contained that this Prince, had been several times guilty of extortioning the People, within the bounds of his Government of
Piccardy
and
Artois,
and that his Majesty might give credit to this, he offered to prove it, so soon as he was commanded to do it: the King who knew that this Prince had some good qualities, for which he is deservedly esteemed, was troubled to see him stain'd with so black an accusation, as that of extortion is. Not but that he knew well enough, that accusations are not always true; he had seen abundance of instances in his own time, where the Accusations fell back upon the Heads of the Accusers; as it happened to
Courbier
and some others. But because this memoir was so conceived, as to have all the appearances of truth, the King knew not well what to say of it, and would not so much as speak of it; but the Duke
D'Elbeuf,
finding that the Farmers of the Kings revenues, asked much more for the Government of
Rue,
than it was worth, because
D'Augincourt
had offered them Money, he had recourse to the King that he might not fall into their Hands.
His Majesty, who remembred what the other had said to his disadvantage, instead of answering him, so obligingly as he used to do, told him only, that he would consider of it. The Duke who knew his Majesties humour, which is to be kind and obliging, even to Persons of far less quality than he concluded presently from this answer, that some person had done him an ill office; He did all he cou'd, for some days, to discover who it might be, and knowing that
D'Augincourt,
had an Eye upon the
Government
of
Rue,
he was almost perswaded that he was the Man. His Ingratitude to his late Master, was enough to make him entertain these thoughts of him, yet that he might be more assur'd of it, he spoke again to the King, and begg'd to know, if he had as yet considered of his Request, as he had promised to do: His Majesty told him, that he had thought of it, but it could not be granted him, for some Reasons which he was unwilling to tell him. The Duke
D'Elbeuf,
was yet more surprized at this Answer, than he was at the first, and was more perswaded than ever, that the King was not well pleased with him, and therefore he supplicated His Majesty, with the greatest Earnestness, that he would be graciously pleased to tell him what it was, that he had to lay to his Charge. His Majesty answered him, that he had resolved to conceal it from him, that thereby he might save him the trouble, which the knowledge of it would certainly give him. But since he was so very earnest to know it, he would tell him plainly, that he had received a Memoir against him, wherein he was accus'd, of extortioning the People who lived under his Jurisdiction. 'Tis true the Duke
D'Elbeuf,
who is not very rich, and who loves to live great, and therefore had need to make the best advantage of every thing; had us'd his utmost Skill and Industry, in looking narrowly after his Affairs, so that nothing that did of right belong to him, could escape him; but how much soever he look'd after his own Interest, yet he had never been an Extortioner; and he could not endure that he should be unjustly accused of it: And therefore, he requested His Majesty, that Inquiry should be made into it. He told him that he who was but a Young man, had rashly done some things in his time, which his Majesty could not approve of, that he most humbly begg'd pardon for them, as he had also done, when he was first charged with them; but that he was content to lose his Head, if ever he was in the least guilty of what was now laid to his Charge. The King who was prepossessed with an Opinion, that
D'Augincourt
would never have dared, to have given him the Memoir, if he had not been well assured, that what it contain'd was true; especially since he lived in the Neighbourhood, where he pretended that the Duke had been guilty of the Extortions; answered him, that he would not at all advise him, to search this matter to the bottom, least perhaps it might prove more to his hurt than he expected, and that at least it was probable it would prove so. This answer afflicted him yet more, than any of the former Answers had done; and therefore he continued to solicit His Majesty, that he would be pleased to allow him to justify himself. The King turned away from him, to speak to another Person of Quality, to whom he had something to say: And the Duke
d'Elbeuf
going out with an heart full of Sorrow, resolved to employ all his own and his friends Interests, that he might be allowed to clear himself of this Calumny. As he went out of the Antichamber, he found
D'Augincourt
with one of his Friends at the door of the Guard-hall, he took him aside, to speak to him in private.
D'Augincourt
left his friend alone, and the Duke asked him, if perhaps he was not the Man, who had given the King a certain Memoir, of which his Majesty had been just now speaking to him?
D'Augincourt
who had so much Impudence as to speak ill of his dead Master, by whose favour it was, that he had acquired all that he was worth; was impudent enough to own in the Dukes face, that he was the very Man; and which was more, he told him that he had promised to the King, to make good every thing that was in that Memoir, and that e're it was long, he would be as good as his word. The Duke was so wise, as not to do as the Marquis
de Barbisieux
had done, when he fell into his hands. But instead of that, he contented himself to tell him, that he was satisfied to know, how far his Impudence had carried him, that he might come to be treated as he deserv'd, at another time, and in another place; that he would take notice of him, and at last he threaten'd him, that he would cause him to be cudgelled to death for a Rascal as he was.
D'Augincourt
went and complain'd to the King, and demanded Justice of him. The King told him, he was ready to do him Justice, but he must first prove what he had alledged against the Duke
d'Elbeuf;
who expresly denied all that he had charged him with: And if he had calumniated him without ground, then the Duke had much more reason to demand Justice than he had. The Duke return'd to wait upon the King, and requested him to appoint Judges, to enquire into that matter; for if that were not done, his Reputation shou'd be brought into question, and that it was not just, that in prejudice of his Innocence any credit should be given, to such a lying Wretch as
D'Augincourt:
He told him at the same time, the designs that
D'Augincourt
had upon the Government of
Rue,
and that he had taken this method of calumniating him, fearing least otherwise, he should not be able to carry it against him. The King who is extreamly prudent and judicious, began to perceive how the matter stood, as soon as he heard this; and he guess'd, that Jealousie and interest, had made
D'Augincourt
do what he had done; and therefore he allowed that the Duke should clear himself; and promised to name Judges for that Affair: and which was more, he told him, that if he found
D'Augincourt
had accused him falsly, he should cause to inflict any Punishment upon him, that the Duke thought fit. But the Judges were not named, for some time after; insomuch that now, when I am writing these
Memoirs;
this Affair is not as yet ended.
The young
Beaus
of the Court; were become so profligate, that many lewd Women, came to be in vogue among them; and among the rest, the Women of the Playhouse and the Opera: But there were some others besides them, who came to be as much esteemed as they were; and especially one
Mademoiselle Chambonneau,
the Daughter of a Gentleman of
Poiton,
who finding her self every way fitted for Amours, thought it was pity, to bury so good Qualities, in an obscure Country place; and therefore, she came to
Paris,
where she might set them forth; in the view of the finest City, and of the finest Court in the World. Prince
Philip,
was one of her first Admirers; but he dying soon after, there were others succeeded him, who were fully equal to him, both for Personal Worth and Quality, so that she was no looser by the Change. But before I say any more of her, I beg leave to give an account of a silly Impertinence of the Marshal
de Milleraies
Lady, who is the most whimsical Woman in the World, as to what concerns Quality.
This Prince had not lived a very Christian Life, at least, so far as appeared to the View of the World: And there was a devout Lady, who soon after his Death, said in a publick Company, where the Marshal's Lady was; that his Salvation was much to be doubted of, considering how irreligiously he had lived; that many People had been Witnesses of his Debaucheries, but none had ever heard of his Repentance. The Marshal's Lady answered, that she confessed that all that was true; but that God was merciful, especially to a Person of Prince
Philip
's Quality; and that since God was good to all Mankind, he would be much more so, to such a Man as he was; and when it came to the damning of a Person of so great Quality, God would think twice upon it before he did it: The Lady to whom she made this Answer, would not let her pass with it, though she knew her weak side, and that she was but a magotty Woman about these things, and therefore she could not hope for much satisfaction, from any thing she could say about them.
But to return to my Subject,
Madam Chambonneau,
being the Widow of a Person of such a Character, and being married to a second Husband, who is yet more of it, all the young People of Quality resorted to her House. Her new Husband was not at all jealous of her, and allow'd her to see every body. And she got a good number of young Favourites about her, out of which she was sure to make a choice of such Debauchees as were most agreeable to her humour; especially the Count
de Donsi,
eldest son to the Duke
de Nevers,
a Man of as odd a Temper as his Father is; and to give his Character in one Word, I need only say, that he has all the Vices of the
Manchinies,
yea, and surpasses them in two things, that are extreamly shameful in any man; but especially in a Person of his Quality. He can scarce speak a word without adding the Name of God to it, and Blasphemes as often as he speaks. And as for Drinking, it would seem that in what place soever he is,
Bacchus
had set up his Throne, and kept Court there: Yet these are the two great Qualities he boasts most of, whereas he ought rather to consider them, as very dangerous Distempers; for in my opinion, he who is become a Slave, to two such disgraceful Vices, may justly look upon himself, as the most wretched and miserable of all Mortals. Notwithstanding all this, he is so very comely and handsome in his Person, that were he as sound in the Head, as he is well shap'd in the Body, we might easily excuse not only this
Mad. Chambonneau,
but many others; who after her Example, should show some Affection for him▪
This Counts Father, (who is sordidly penurious in some things, tho' in others he seems rather to be prodigal) did not allow him so much as one farthing of Money, which was the reason, that he had neither Servants nor Equipage. Perhaps he would have had him to go to the Market as he did himself; for we must know, that when the humour takes him, he makes no scruple to go thither: And 'tis pretty odd to see a Knight of the Holy Ghost with his blew Ribband, in a Publick Market, asking a Fruit woman, how she sells her Fruit and her Carrots. There was a man came once, and told
Monsieur Baville
Intendant of
Languedoc,
that he was seen doing so in the publick Market at
Montpellier,
but he could not tell his Name, for he that had seen him, did not know him; he sent immediately to all parts of the Town, to know who this Knight of the Holy Ghost might be, that was come thither; and so soon as he knew that it was the Duke
de Nevers,
he went to pay him a Visit; and that he might engage him to reflect upon his own Conduct, as unworthy of his Character; he told him, that he should not have known that he was in that Town, but that it had been told him, that he was seen in the Market, that when he first heard of it, he could not beleive it, till it was confirm'd to him by so many People, that at last he was forced to give credit to it, lest he should seem to be too incredulous. The Duke answered him, that he had gone from his Lodgings, with a design to pay him a Visit, but that having thought it too early, and that he would not be up so soon; he had done after the Custom of
Italy,
which allows Masters to go themselves, and buy whatever they have a mind to eat; that he knew it was not so in
France,
but that for his part, he never stood upon such small matters, so that he might have the satisfaction to have nothing upon his Table, but what did relish with him.
But this Man is of a singular humour in other things besides this, especially in his way of Housekeeping. For when he is not to have any Strangers at his Table, he gives fifty Sols a day for himself, and as much for his Lady, to the Steward of his House, who must therewith provide victuals for them both; and as to his Servants, he gives Ten Sols for every one of them, so that he is in no great hazard of being cheated; since the Steward can neither augment nor diminish the daily Allowance. By this means its only when he entertains Strangers, that any thing beyond ordinary is to be seen in his House, and it's then, that he uses to go himself to the Market, which might be thought a sure Mark of a penurious Humour: Were it not that there is one thing remarkable in his House, that is not to be found elsewhere, and that is, that if another Man have one Cook, and an Under-cook; This Duke has six, or at least four of them; for he has an humour, that he will not suffer that one Cook should meddle but with one thing: So that he, who has the charge of the Roast Meat, never meddles with the Ragoo's, and he who has the charge of the Ragoo's, meddles not with the more dainty Dishes; and so of the rest.
A Man of so singular an humour as this is, could never allow his Son to live such a Life as he did; he had already quit his House, so as not to lodge in it, and he thought it high time to give a check to his extravagant way of living; he sent to him, and warn'd him not to see Mad.
Chambonneau
any more, or else he knew what remedies to find for his Distemper. He was afraid either that he should run himself into debt, by spending too much with her, or that he should be such a Fool, as to marry her privately, as was reported of him. He had reason to look upon him, as a Man that was capable of anything that was foolish and extravagant, though there had been no other ground for it, but only this, that he had taken upon himself the Title of a Duke, though it did not all belong to him, and which is yet worse, had no ground to hope that ever it should belong to him, for his Father's Patent is not for his Posterity, but only for his own Life time. So that when he comes to die, his Family has done with that Title; as it happened not long ago to Monsieur
Vieuville.
By this, we may easily judge of the Father's humour, for he married his Lady, when her Aunt, Madam
de Montespan,
was in greatest favour with the King, and at her greatest height; yet he neglected to have that Honour ensur'd to his Posterity and Family, tho' it would have cost him nothing to obtain it, if he had but asked it.
However, the Count
de Donsi,
who had heard, that while his Father was a young Man, he had liv'd much after the same manner, that he did himself now while he was also young; and that he could not justly challenge him, for copying after his example, answered the Gentleman whom his Father had sent to him, that he could not think of leaving
Paris,
as he would have him do. The Duke procur'd a letter
de Cachet
from the King, for comitting him to the Bastile.
Mad.
Chambonneau
went the first and second day after he was taken up, and wandered up and down about the Castle, to try, if perhaps she might see him upon the Terrass, or in the Windows; but she dar'd not adventure to go in, and inquire for him, for they had threatned to put herself in Prison, if she should be found in a disguise, offering to pay him a visit: But she was so much a
Coquette,
that in two or Three days, she became indifferent, whether she should ever see him again or no; she troubled herself no more about him, but considered him as a dead Man, because he was no more in a condition to do her service. Only she thought fit to keep some rules of decency with him, and therefore she wrote some Letters to him, and expressed herself as tenderly, as if she had loved him as much as ever, and even imployed
Mademoiselle de Soissons
(who's conduct is not much approved of, by those who are concerned in her Person and Interest) that she might assure him of it.
Mademoiselle de Soissons
went twice or thrice to the Bastile to deliver her Commission, and it may be she was glad of the opportunities, that she might see him her self. But the Duke
de Nevers,
(who was jealous of her, and to whom the Governour of the Castle, would not refuse any favour, because he ow'd his Fortune to Cardinal
Mazarin
the Dukes Uncle,) prevailed so far that she was stopt at the Gate, and not suffered to enter, as if it had been by order from his Majesty. This was a notable affront for this Princess; who tho' she was warned of what was to befall her, yet could not believe that the Governour dar'd do such a thing, because she was grand Niece of the same Cardinal, to whom he had been Captain of the Guards.
But as he had learned from him, to make no great account of any sort of People, but of those who were rich and powerful; and she being neither the one nor the other, because of the many Disasters, that had befallen her family, he got soon over those considerations, that so he might gratify the Duke. She might have complained of this to the King, if she durst have spoken to him, but his Majesty was far from having any esteem for her, and he had already caused notice to be given her, that if she did not alter her conduct, he would be obliged to send her orders, that would not at all please her; and therefore she had rather put up the affront, and be silent, than by complaining, to put his Majesty in mind, that she did not live as a Lady of her quality ought to do. Yet the King did not forget her so soon, he remembered her more than ever; now that the Duke of
Burgundy
had married the Princess of
Savoy.
The honour that
Mademoiselle de Soissons,
had, to be of the same Family that the Princess is of, made him often reflect, how unworthy it was of her Character and Quality to live as she did; and seeing she would not be reclaim'd, by what was said to her, either from the King, or from her Friends, he sent her a Letter
de Cachet,
to depart out of the Kingdom.
Her Sister
Mademoiselle Carignan
got also a secret rebuke, though her conduct was not altogether so disorderly as hers was; yet she came to be talked of, as conversing too frequently with a certain Duke, who was married: The King therefore sent to her, and offered her an Apartment at
Versailles;
upon condition that she would take a Governess of his naming. She had one already, who was as old a Woman as any I know; and
Mademoiselle Carrignan
took occasion from this, to excuse her self, for not accepting the honour which his Majesty had designed for her, and she told those who spake to her from his Majesty; that it would occasion the death of her old Governess, if she should now put her a way, when she had been so long time with her; that it would look like a Tacite Accusation, that she had not been so careful as she ought to have been of her Education; that in all appearance she could not live long; and that so soon as she was dead, there could be nothing which she would so much rejoyce at, as to make good use of the Favors, which his Majesty was pleased to offer her.
Mademoiselle de Carignan,
having by this means got her self off, she was very well pleased, that she had thereby shun'd the constraint, under which she should have been, had she liv'd at
Versailles.
She chose rather to keep her own little Court at the
Hotel de Soissons,
than to be one of those, who make up the splendour at the Princesses Court: The good old Woman Madam
de St. Martin
who is her Governess, was extreamly well pleased, a
the answer she had made; in the mean time, the Duke was advertised of this, and it was desired of him that he would take care, not to pay her so many visits, as he used to do; lest the King should send her such another order, as he had sent to her Sister.
Mademoiselle Chambonneau
was in a great consternation, when she heard of
Mademoiselle de Soisson's
fate; she was affraid, that since the King had dealt so hardly by a Person of her Birth, he might come to deal more severely by her, how small provocation soever, she should give him; she therefore intreated many of the young
Beaus
that frequented her house, that they should come but seldom thither. But he who had succeeded to Prince
Philip
having encouraged her, by an Oath that he made to her, that he would preserve her, from all hazards; she soon recall'd those whom so lately she had advised to seek for diversions elsewhere. But there were two of them, whom she endeavoured all she could, to discourage from coming to her House; because she thought neither of 'em fit for her purpose; the one was the
Baillif D'Auvergne,
eldest Son of the Count
D'Auvergne;
who had already so much offended his Father, that he had nothing to expect from him. For he had forced him to ingage himself in the order of
Malta,
and to give up his right of primogeniture in Favours of that Brother, who was next to him in age. The other was the
Chevalier de Kailus,
a younger brother of the Marquis
de Kailus,
who has married
Mademoiselle de Vilette,
a Cousin of
Madam de Mantenons.
This Man had not the same faults that the
Baillif de Auvergne
had; yet he had as small a share in
Mademoiselle Chambonneau
's Favors as the other had, though I know not upon what account it was so. And she endeavoured to set them at variance, that by the one, she might come to get rid of the other; or rather, that she might get rid of them both at the same time. The best means she could think on for this, was, under pretence of Friendship, to make every one of them believe, that the other spake much to his disadvantage; they easily believ'd what she said, for each of them was perswaded, that she loved him dearly; and therefore, thought it impossible, that she could tell him any thing, that was false. They began then to look a squint upon one another, but their Resentments were too strong to stop there. They agreed to do one another Justice, with Sword in hand; and to try, which of them
Madm. de Chambonneau
should belong to. They agreed to meet, in the Court of the Abbey of St.
Germain,
and that the one of them should make, as if he were going into the Church, while the other was coming out of it, that so, it might seem, that they had met only by chance; for they knew, how severe the King was to those, that dar'd to transgress his Edicts; and especially that, which he had made against Duels: they knew, that he could never be prevail'd with, to grant a Pardon to any Man who had been so unfortunate, as to fall into that Crime.
They met, as they had appointed, and drew their Swords, but were parted before much blood was shed. Yet the one of them wounded the other, and each of them retir'd to a Friends house; and resolved not to come abroad, till they should know first, if it was safe for them to appear; but they had notice very soon, that they should do well to lurk; and that the King was no sooner informed of their fighting, but that he had sent an Order to the Procuror General of the Parliament, to enquire after that Matter. The Count
d' Auvergn
went at the same time to
Versailles,
and said to the King, that though he came to beg a favour of him, yet it was not at all for his Son, who had now of a long time behav'd himself so unworthily, that he did not concern himself in any thing upon his Account.
But seeing, as the case stood, if he was sentenced to die, the like Sentence must necessarily pass against the
Chevalier de Kailus,
who deserv'd much better than his Son did, that his Condition and Circumstances should be regarded; he did therefore, upon his Account, rather than upon his own, supplicate His Majesty to give Orders, that the whole Affair might be well examined; for if there was any credit to be given to those who waited on his Son, he had fought only upon an accidental Rencounter, and without any premeditated design to transgress His Majesty's Laws. It would have been a very extraordinary thing for a Father, (who what Faults soever his Son hath committed, easily forgets them, when his Life is at Stake,) thus to have expressed himself, in good earnest; but it was fit, the Count should use some Art upon such an Occasion. He knew, that sometimes Prudence will oblige a Man to blame those, who he designs should be found innocent; especially, when he is speaking to those whom they are accountable to, for what they have done; and who are offended with them. For as one seldom gains any thing, by opposing a passionate Man, while his Anger is at its height; but upon the other hand brings him soonest to Reason, by seeming to go along with him in his Sentiments; so it is with regard to a Prince, who alledges, that such a man has transgressed his Laws; and therefore deserves to be punished. However, the King having given him as favourable a Reception, as he could have desired; answered him, that both for his Sons sake, and for the sake of the Chevalier
de Kailus,
he wished that it might be found so, as he had heard; but that he would be very soon informed of it, for he had already given such strict Orders about it, that it was altogether needless to give any more.
In the mean time, the King came to be informed, that it was upon
Madam Chambonneau's
Account, that they had come to fight; and that she had industriously set them together by the Ears, by her false Reports: Upon which he sent a Letter
de cachet,
ordering her to be banish d to
Rowan.
There were some young Counsellors of that Parliament, who got into a humour of courting her, but she found a great difference between them, and that great croud of Persons of Quality, who used to frequent her House at
Paris.
And being soon wearied of that Town, she would have languished to death, but that she hoped, that her Friends would employ all their Interests to have her recalled. But as among the vast number of Women, who live as she did, there are but few, who are so fortunate as was
Ninon Lendos;
that is, there are but few of them, who have the art to engage People to love them, notwithstanding all the Lewdness they can be guilty of; so those who had seen her at
Paris,
forgot her much sooner than she thought of. And at last having lost all her hopes, she was so overwhelmed with grief, that she died soon after.
The Duke
de Nevers,
who while she was at
Rowan,
knew his Son's Character better, than to be affraid that he would be at the pains to go thither, (for the Count
de Donzi
is a Man who can very soon forget both Friends and Mistresses) the Duke
de Nevers
I say, who had nothing to fear on that score, got an Order to set him at liberty: But it was upon condition, that he should go to
Moulins,
and wait there, till the Duke
de Vendome
his Cousin, with whom he had made the last Campaign, and with whom he resolved that he should make the next, should be in a readiness to set forward for the Camp. In the mean while,
Madamoiselle de Soissons
left
Paris,
in obedience to the King▪ s Commands, and went to her Mother a
Brussels.
This Lady, who while her Husband was alive had been an Honour to
France;
as far, as a costly and magnificent way of living can be accounted so; had fallen on a sudden, (if I may so say, from Greatness and Splendor, into Poverty and Misery: having been accused of poysoning her Husband; for which she was forced to make her Escape into
Flanders,
without having so much as 24 Hours allowed her, to put her Affairs in order If we may give credit to what she says herself she was altogether innocent of this Crime: And it was her mortal Enemy, the Marquis
de Louvois,
who had forged that Accusation against her, because she would never be in Friendship with him. But whatever may be in this, 'tis certain, that at Court, she has always been reputed guilty of that Crime. Whether it be, that she has still powerful Enemies there, or that the King is convinced, that she is not unjustly accused, I cannot tell; but there is not one, that offers to espouse her Interests. Before that
Madamoiselle de Soissons
went to that Country, it was reported, that she would go to
Avignon,
and that
Madam de Soissons
her Mother, would go and live there also: because she could not live any longer at
Brussels,
where every thing was so dear. A certain Woman named
Vendome,
who is well known at Court, not by her Quality, but because she brings thither Sallads for the King and Nobility, which are better than any that comes from another hand; hearing, that this Princess was brought so very low, and remembring her former Splendour that she had often seen; was so touched with Compassion for her, that she sent her as much Money, as one of her small Stock was able to spare, and 'tis said, that she received it; yea, and that she was very well pleased with it. But this is what I cannot aver for a truth, tho' I have heard it told to some Persons of the greatest Quality, who may have known something of it themselves. But I can scarcely believe, that this Princess, was ever reduc'd to so great Straits, as to accept of so small a Summ as that was; and at least, I wish it may not have been so, after having my self been Witness of the great Pomp she formerly liv'd in. Yet it was commonly reported at Court, that had not the Lady of a Foreign Prince's Minister, supplyed her with Money, she had not known how to satisfie her Baker and Butcher, who dun'd her continually for the Money she ow'd them.
Whatever was in this, her Family has been in a declining State these Twenty Five Years past, and is very much lower, than it was before that time; and this Princess's Son, who should have raised it up again, having been so low-spirited, as to Marry a Girl, who is unworthy of his Birth, has been obliged to go out of the Kingdom, because he found that he could not live in it with honour. And if it be true, that this Princes Mother, was guilty of what was laid to her charge, we may presume, that all that has befallen her, is the effect of Divine justice, which doth not suffer that Crimes of this nature should continue unpunished.
Madamoiselle de Soissons,
was not the only Person whose Conduct the King endeavoured to reform; he took much the same measures with
Madam de la Force,
who is one of the two Daughters which the late Marquis
de Castelmoron
had left behind him; the other was married to the Marquis
de Bricquemau,
a Name well know among the French Protestants, as well as that of
de la Force.
But that Religion being now prohibited, the Marquis
de Bricquemau,
thought fit to obey the King, who Commanded all his Subjects to be Roman Catholicks.
Madamoiselle de la Force,
had already had many Intrigues, which had made much noise; and among others, those with the Marquis
de Nesle,
and with the President
de Brion's
Son. This last had disgraced her yet more than the other; because this President's Son, was but of a very mean extract in comparison of her. For without having recourse to the idle fancies of the Family of
la Force,
which pretends to be descended of the Kings of
England,
about which the Genealogists are not agreed; or to what is pretended, that the name of
Nompart
which they bear, with that of
Caumont,
was given them, because one of their Ancestors killed a Dragon, which destroyed all that Country, where their chief Possessions and Interests in Land do now lie: I say, that without laying any stress on these things, it is certain that the Family of
la Force,
is a very Illustrious and a very Antient Family. It has produced two Mareschals of
France,
the one just after the other; of the first of which, the Father
Mainbourg
has given us a History, which he has composed after his own fancy, in his Book of
Calvinism;
but he is so often mistaken in every thing, that he has Written, that a Man must be at pains to compose as many Volumes as he has done, if he would take in hand to discover all his Mistakes. But since we have occasion here, to speak of this Mareschal, who was called
James,
I shall give a true and genuine account of what befel him, at the Massacre of St.
Bartholomew,
quite different from what is given by that Jesuit.
Charles
IX. having formed a design, to catch all the Protestants of
France
in one Net, and at the same time; made as many of them as he could, especially of the leading Men among them, come to Court, that he might cause them to be murdered (so to speak) in his own sight; while by his Orders, the same was to be done, upon the same day and at the same hour, in all the parts of the Kingdom: It is not my business, to tell here how it was possible, that such a Design could be executed, without being discovered before hand to those against whom it was formed; besides, that though I should make all the plausible Conjectures imaginable, I could not expect to succeed better, than they have done, who have beat their Brains to tell us their Conjectures about it; and at last I should be forced to confess, as they do, that it was a thing that God had resolved from all Eternity, and that he put a vail before the Eyes of all those who were appointed to suffer, that they might not know the imminent dangers that threatned them. However this be,
James
's Father being come to
Paris,
where he was called by the King, and having brought along with him his two Sons,
viz. James
and his elder Brother; he and they were among the first who were assassinated.
James
was but Fourteen Years old, but was of a much readier wit, than is usual for Boys of that age, and he seigned himself dead, upon his receiving the first blow; that was the reason why he was left there, and had no more wounds given him; and lying stretched out at full length between his Father and his Brother, who were killed dead, he had also so much presence of mindas to take off a Diamond of great value, which his Father had upon his Finger, and to put it in his Mouth, with an other which he had himself; for he did not doubt, but the People would soon come and strip them, and take every thing that was about them; and he was affraid, that if he should keep nothing for getting his Wound cured, and for maintaining himself in some private place, till the storm were over, he might come to be starved to death. It happened just so as he had guessed would: all the People about the
Louvre,
where his Father was lodged, hearing what had been done, came immediately to make all the advantages they could of the Cloaths of these murdered Protestants. The Master of a Tennis Court, that was in that part of the Town, who knew Monsieur
de la Force's
Sons, because they had play'd sometimes at the Tennis, which he kept, happened by good luck to come to their House, when he was going a pillaging as well as others: He was so touched with compassion, when he saw them in that condition, that he cry'd out and spoke of it aloud, though he was all alone.
James,
who knew him, thought that he might trust himself with him, and tell him, that he was not as yet dead. The Master of the Tennis, being overjoyed to see him yet alive, bid him get up and go along with him; and promised to keep him in his House, and that he should not at all discover him, but that he should be in as great safety with him as ever he had been in his own Father's house; but because he had no Cloak to give him, and that he could not go out, naked as he was, for another had already stript him of his Cloaths;
James
therefore, desir'd him to go and seek for one to him, and to bring a Lanthorn with him, that he might have the greater Benefit of his kind Offers. The Master of the Tennis, brought him all that he had desired, and a Hat also; and making him go before him, as if he had been his Boy; he brought him to his house, where his Wife asked him, who he was; he told her, that she was not concerned to know that, and that she had nothing to do, but to use him kindly. She judged by this, that he was some Huguenot of Note; which she was yet more perswaded of, when upon his Finger, she saw the Diamonds which he had sav'd, and she coveted very much to have them; but not knowing any other way, how to come by them, she began to say to her Husband, that she was very desirous he should put him out of doors; that she could not suffer him any longer to expose himself, for his sake, to those Inconveniencies that would inevitably befal him, if it should ever come to be known, that he had harboured such a Guest. Her Husband, who had been forced to tell her who he was, that the hopes she might have, of being well rewarded one day, might give her satisfaction; endeavoured to satisfie her with the same hopes. But she had rather have what was present, than what was but to come, and she continued to press him that he would rid himself of this Stranger; telling him, that it seem'd he knew not well what he was doing, when he put himself into so great hazard, without any prospect of advantage. The Tennis-court keeper, finding, that he could not satisfie her with Reason, advertised
James
of it, that he might choose rather to go elsewhere, than to expose himself to new Dangers.
La Force
answered him, that he would soon find a Remedy for that: He knew that this Woman coveted his Diamonds, because she had many times spoken to him of them; he therefore gave her one of them, which procured him peace and quiet for some days. But because, that which he had kept to himself, was the finest of the two, and that he had given her only the least, her wicked humour returned very soon, insomuch that she disturbed her Husband with her Importunities, as much as before. He who was a man of much honesty, could not approve of her Behaviour, and reproved her sharply for it. But finding that she persevered in her Covetousness, and that she valued her Interest, more than any other thing, he spoke to
Monsieur de la Force,
that he might have a care, not to make a Present to her of the other Diamond, and he told him, that it would be much better for him, that he should go to one of his Friends houses, and that if he knew any of them with whom he could trust himself; he would go himself, and ask him if he could be in safety at his house:
Monsieur de la Force
answered him, that he knew none, but
Monsieur de Biron,
and he entreated him to go to his house as from him; and that he knew him to be so generous, that he hoped, he would make no difficulty,
o shelter him. The Master of the Tennis-court went thither, and having asked a private Audience of him, he was surprised, and overjoyed at the same time, when he told him, that the young
La Force
was still alive.
Monsieur de Biron
desired, that he might come so soon as conveniently he could: he came to his house immediately; and that he might not be discovered,
Monsieur de Biron,
after he had discoursed a little with him, put him in his Livery as one of his Pages, and sent him to
Biron.
He was cured of the Wound, he received at the Massacre, and having taken Post, he stay'd in
Guyenne,
till the Persecution of the Protestants was over. He went afterwards to the War, where he signalized himself so gloriously, that he came to be in greater esteem than any of his Predecessors had ever been. And he came to be so much in favour with
Henry
the Third, and
Henry
the Fourth, that he was made Master of the Kings Wardrobe, and Captain of his Lifeguards. He afterwards married
Monsieur de Biron
's Daughter, in gratitude to him, for having shelter'd him, when he was in hazard of his Life; and at last he was advanced to the Dignity of Duke, and Peer, and Marshal of
France.
He died when he was Eighty years of Age, Loaded with Riches and Honour. His Son enjoyed all the same Honours, and having but one Daughter, she was married to
Monsieur de Turenne.
The Dutchy of
la Force
fell to the Posterity of
James
's second Son, who enjoy it at this time.
Madamoiselle de la Force,
of whom we are now discoursing, was descended also of the same
James,
who was her Grandfather; but her way of living being altogether unworthy of the Grandchild of so great a Man, who had lived always like a Man of true Honour and Vertue; the King caused a Complement to be made her, much like to that, which had been made to
Madamoiselle de Soissons;
he ordered that it should be told her, that there were but two things, of which she might choose one, that was, either to go out of the Kingdom, or to go in to a Convent: such an Order as this, was like a Thunderbolt to this young Lady. But as there is no disputing with the King, she chose the Convent; upon condition always, that His Majesty should give her, wherewith to pay her Board. For though she had many Intrigues in her time, yet she was so much a Beggar, that she had not wherewith to maintain herself: Perhaps, had she been richer, she would not have gone and buried herself alive, within the Walls of a Cloyster; but as Necessity forces many People to do many things, which otherwise they would not incline to; it was impossible for her to take any other course, than what she did. There was one
Madam Thaumur,
who underwent the same Fate, though she was married, and her Husband Captain of the Gallies of
Versailles;
yet he was so good natured, as never to complain of her Conduct. But the King, who had declared openly before all the Court, that he would not suffer any Person, to give ill Example to another, knowing that himself was charitable enough, to comfort an old
Suisse
for the loss of his Wife, caused her to be shut up among the penitent Maids.
This frighted a great many Women, whose Conduct was nothing better than hers; while all good People approved of his Majesty's Resolution, for the Reformation of Manners.
He commanded the Archbishop of
Paris,
that in his Station, he should vigorously pursue the same design as well as he did. That Prelate gave Orders to the Clergy of that great City, that every one of them should enquire diligently, within the bounds of his Parish, after those who lived licentiously, whether under the pretence of their Greatness, or under pretence of Clandestine Marriage. His Majesty's Care extended also, farther than this Capital City; for he sent the same Orders to all the Bishops of the Kingdom. The Bishop of
Angers
had a Man in his Diocess, who was rather rich than of Quality, and who was in one of these two Cases. It was the Count
de Serran,
who had been Chancellor of
Monteur:
he lived familiarly with one
Madam Racapee;
but it was not known how they came to live together, whether they lived in Whoredom, or if there had been a Clandestine Marriage between them; for these sorts of Marriages are much in fashion at this time, insomuch, that we seldom hear of any other. The Bishop went and paid him a visit, as he us'd frequently to do; but after he had dined with him, and with this Lady, who ordered all the Affairs of his house; he told him, that he would not delay any longer to acquaint him, with the Reasons that had obliged him to pay him that visit. That His Majesty had commanded him to enquire of him, what was the Relation he was in to that Lady, who had the trust of every thing in his house. For if she served him only for his pleasure, and was not married to him, he must resolve never to see her any more. The Count
de Serran
knowing that his Wealth, which made him absolute in that Country, could do him no service, in shifting a question that was put to him in the Kings Name; was forced to own, that they were married together. The Bishop answered him, that his owning of the Marriage was something, and that he could discourse willingly with him upon the reasons, which he offered him at the same time, for having so long concealed it; but that all that was not enough, for such an Answer, as he must give the King. That if it were only he, who as Bishop of the place, came to enquire after it; he would believe it, upon his word; but since his business was with the King, it was absolutely necessary to shew other Proofs for it. The Count hearing him speak after such a manner, went and searched for the Marriage-contract, which he had made with this Lady, and shewed him at the same time, a Certificate of their Marriage. He asked for no more, and having given an Account of it to the King, it has produced so good an effect, that this Count owns it openly in his Family; so that Madam
de Racapee,
is now considered as his Lady.
About this time, the City of
Paris
came to have one of its principal Magistrates changed, though this Office be neither ancient nor honourable; I mean the Office of
Lieutenant de Police,
which was at its first Institution, in the year 1667. bestowed upon
Monsieur de la Reinie,
who is still alive. For there was never any such Magistrate before that time, and all the parts of that Office were performed by the
Lieutenant Civil.
But His Majesty considering, that in so great a City as this Metropolis, it was too great a Charge for one Man, to attend particular Affairs, and the more publick Concerns of the City at the same time; he created this new Office in his Favour. 'Tis true, Political Reasons obliged him to institute it, as much as Zeal for Justice did. For the King had found by experience, while he was under age, that this City alone, was capable by its example, to cause an Insurrection throughout the who
e Kingdom. And therefore, he thought fit, to have a Man there, of his own Appointment, in whom he might put confidence, who might narrowly observe every thing that was done in the City. He settled Twelve Thousand Franks a year upon this Magistrate; and
Monsieur de la Reinie,
after he had discharged this Office, for at least 25 years, becoming old, and perhaps that he might complement the chief Minister of State, desired him some years ago, that he would give him his Nephew
Monsieur de Bignon
for his Coadjutor.
As this Office, gives a Man much Authority and Interest at Court, upon which he immediately depends; therefore,
Monsieur Bignon,
who is now Intendant of
Picardy,
accepted of it, by the Advice of his Parents and Friends; but being of a Family, that has been always obliging and full of humanity, he became soon wearied of it; for he saw, that he could not discharge that Office, unless, he became severe and rigorous, and therefore, he made an Interest, to be Intendant of a Province, and obtained that of
Amie
s.
In the mean while,
Monsieur de Reinie
growing now very old, for he is about Eighty years of Age, supplicated anew, that he might be eased of this Burden, and that he might be allowed to sell his Office. The King granted his request, upon condition, that he should resign in favour of
Monsieur d' Argenson.
This Gentleman is of much better Quality than
Monsieur de la Reinie,
and falls nothing short of him, as to good sense; besides, that he has all necessary Qualities to make himself to be feared, and his very Presence strikes dread, if it doth not create respect. His Father had been the Kings Embassador to the Republick of
Venice,
and his Ancestors were equally famous for the Gown and for the Sword; but 'tis seldom that a Man grows rich by Embassies, and his Father who is still alive, spent a good part of his own Estate in that Employment; so that his Son had been forced to accept of an Office, that was below him, that is, to be Lieutenant General of
Limoges;
but his good Fortune having brought him to Court, and having got some Commissions, of which he so acquitted himself, that the Court was fully satisfied with what he had done, he thereby opened the way to this Employment we are now speaking of: The Lieutenant
de Police
is answerable to the Parliament of
Paris;
and therefore
Monsieur D' Argenson,
some days, after he had entered upon his Office, went and pay'd a visit to the chief President, and begged the honour of his Protection. This Magistrate, who has a grave Aspect and affects to appear graver than he truly is, received him the same way, that he uses to receive all other People, and heard his Complement without so much as moving an Eyebrow: finding that he had done with it, made him no answer but these Three Words,
Safety, Cleanness, Light;
and immediately turned his back upon him.
Monsieur D' Argenson
would have been more surprised, if he had not known his Character; but having known it of a long time, he returned home, thinking what could be the meaning of these Three Words, and he soon found it out. He understood easily that by the first, he meant, that he should take care of the night Watch, that no Robberies or Murders by Night might be heard of in the City. By the Second, that he should take care, that those who had the charge of cleansing the Streets, should punctually do their duty; and by the Third, that he should do the same, as to those, who have the charge of the Lanthorns: These Three parts of this Office, made
Monsieur Bignon
nauseate it; and there were also some other things in it, that were no less disagreable to such a Man as he is.
However, his niceness, was much to
Monsieur de la Reinie's
advantage, for he got Fifty Thousand Crowns from
Monsieur D' Argenson,
for resigning his place to him; and he would have got much more, had not the King determined the Price. The Lieutenant
de Police
pays no yearly Tax to the King for his Office, as all the Offices of Long Robe do, except the Chancellor, the Chief President of Parliament; and . . . . . And the King gave
Monsieur D'Argenson,
a Warrant of Retension for a Hundred Thousand
Franks;
He enter'd upon the Exercise of it, by declaring War against all those, whether Men or Women, that used to play at Lansquenet; He had express Orders for this, from his Majesty; because he had observed, that in some Years before, that unhappy Game, as well as the other Game of Basset; had ruin'd a great number of the Officers of his Army, who had been forced to quit their Companies, because, they had lost all the Money, with which, they should have raised Recruits.
Monsieur Bignon
Counsellor of State, who was the Father of that Gentleman I was just now speaking of; came to die suddenly, about this time, without having any time to prepare himself for another World: He had gone to bed at Night, after having taken his Supper as he used to do, without complaining of any Pain or Sickness; but the next Morning, he was found dead in his Bed. The Office of State which he had enjoyed, would have been very convenient for his Son, who had nothing else to hope for, by his Death; for all his Estate was not sufficient to pay his Debts; But because the King had declared long ago, that he would not at all, make those Offices like Here
itary ones, to descend from Father to Son, he therefore, thought it his interest to proceed cautiously in this matter, and to take prudent measures, before he should address himself to the King for it. It was easier for him, than it would have been for another Man, to bring about this design; because he was the Nephew of
Monsieur de Ponchartrain,
who had served the King to very good purpose, ever since the time that he was made Comptrollor-General, in the place o
Monsieur le Pelletier.
There were few, who could have acquitted themselves in so difficult a post, with so much Art and Success, as he has done, at a time, when the publick Affairs were in such a posture, as they have always been in since he was called to it. Tis certainly matter of Wonder and of Amazement at the same time, to see the difference betwixt the way of managing the King's Revenues at this time, and that which was taken under the Ministry of Cardinal
Mazarin.
For when there was need but of a Million, they were at incredible pains and toil, to contrive a way how to raise it: Those who are acquainted with the History of those times, know, that when
Dunkirk
was taken in the year 1658. it could not be ransomed out of the Hands of the
English,
because we had not Three Millions of Money to give for it; for which Sum we could have recovered it, by virtue of a secret Treaty with
Cromwell;
so that the King was forced to add a Million more to that Sum, when he redeemed it some Years after: Besides, it was needful then, to use all the Political Arts and Pretences imaginable, before that such a Sum could be raised Whereas now, if the King had use for Fifty Millions, he has nothing to do but to speak the word, and he has it, so to speak, in a Quarter of an Hour. However,
Monsieur Pontchartrain
did not rely so much upon his own Merits, as upon that account to flatter himself with the hopes of obtaining this favour to his Nephew, because of some difficulties which he foresaw must be removed, before he could speak of it to his Majesty: The great difficulty was, that the King had promised to
Monsieur de Caumartin,
Intendant of the Kings Revenues, the first place that should fall void, among the Counsellors of State: He knew that the King was mindful of his Promises, and that he would not forget them, but for very good Reasons; and therefore, he spake to
Monsieur de Caumartin,
and told him, he would oblige him very much, if he would quit his Pretensions in Favour of his Nephew. As every Man loves to oblige a Minister of State, so
Monsieur Caumartin,
promised not to do any thing, that could put his Majesty in mind of what he had promised him, but the King remembred it himself; so that when
Monsieur de Ponchartrain
spoke to him for
B
gnon,
he answered, that he was very sorry he could not grant what he asked of him, but there were two Reasons that hindred him from doing it. The one was, that he had resolved not to set th
se Offices pass from Father to Son: The ohter was, that he was under a promise to give
Monsieur Caumartin,
the first of those places that should f
ll
. So
Monsieur Caumartin
was made Counsellor of State, though he was willing to have renounced it, at
Monsieur de Pontchartrain
's desire. The first time that he sat in Council, he pretended to take his Place, as if he had been always there, from the first Day he was named Intendant of the Revenues, because these Intendants have a Brief of the Crown. as Counsellors of State; but those whom he would have taken place of, if he had succeeded in his Claim, opposing him in that matter, the Chancellor, who was proper Judge in it, determined it in their Favour. Two or Three days before
Monsieur de B
gnon's
Death, his Brother, who was chief President of the great Council, fell sick, when his sickness appeared dangerous, (for he died of it within Six or Seven days after,) no body would tell him, what had befallen his Brother, lest he should become Apprehensive that he should soon follow him.
But because his Brother had come to see him in the beginning of his Sickness, but could not come afterwards, (for he was in his Grave) he asked the only Daughter he had, if he had already forgotten him. He had married this Daughter to
Monsieur de Verthamont,
Master of Requests, who was already one of the Richest Men that wore a Gown, but who came to be much Richer by succeeding him in his Estate; for this
Monsieur Bignon
had incomparably a greater Estate than his elder Brother: He was worth at least Four Hundred Thousand Crowns; yet his Daughter was nothing the happier for that, for her Husband did not love her at all: either because he thought she had not Beauty enough to deserve that he should love her; or because he was too much inclin
d to We
ching to love a Wife; for it was known that he had Mistress
s, and she was forced to behave herself obligingly to them, and to keep
with them, that so she might be often in company with her Hu
band, for she had as much Affection for him, as he had Indifferency for her.
Monsieur de Verthamont's
Inclinations to the Female Sex, his been
enough known, of a long time; though somewhile and he
ell thereby into such an Inconvent me, as might have discouraged him from
, for the
. He was in love with a young Girl, that had so me Brothers, who were Office
s in the
. She was, at least of as good a Family as had as, but th
was a vast diffrence betwixt th
is Fortunes; and the was a
poor as he was rich: The
their Sister to comply with him,
take
Measures as should
to give her a Portion. Perhaps she
though they had not advised her to it; and if we may believe what is repor
of her, she loved him, as much as he loved her. However this Girl having given him an
is surprised him with her, and
to be
hard upon him, if he would not do them Justice. H
offered them a considerable Sum of Mercy, i
they would let him go. He had it not about him, for it was a greater Sum than a Man usually carries in his Pocket; but having given them his No
e, he thought it even best to pay it, without more ado, that his misfortunes might not come to be talked of:
If a certain Knight of the Holy Ghost, who is now at Court, could have thus compounded the matter with his Lady's Brothers, perhaps he had never married her; But these Gentlemen were not for capitulating on such Terms, as the Brothers of the former Girl had done; he was forced against his Will, to yield to their Terms; besides that, it may be, his Note would not have been so well answered as was
Monsieur de Verthamont
▪ s.
But that I may not go farther from my Subject; I say, that this Magistrate's Lady, having by some pretence or other, satisfied her Father, when he complained, that his Brother came not to see him; he died, without knowing that he was gone before him, and that he had payed that debt, that all men must necessarily pay. Though his Office was but of a late Creation, yet there were abundance of Candidates for it: for the place of Chief President, and especially, of such a famous Society as is the Great Council, is not to be slighted, when there is a fair opportunity of obtaining it. But the King, who has always a great regard to the Children of his Ministers, when the Offices they have enjoyed, may, without any bad Con
equence be disposed of, as if they were hereditary, bestowed it upon Monsieur
de Verthamont.
For the reason why the Places of Counsellors of State should not be so disposed of, is, that if the King should let them descend to the Children, or to the nearest Kinsmen, he should not have, wherewith to reward those who serve him faithfully in the Counsel, and in the other Offices of the Gown. For they serve not for any other end, but that one day they may come to be Counsellors of State; at least, the hopes of this, has been their great motive for some time past; because we see, that the King has chosen Two or Three of that Body to be Chancellors of the Kingdom, and therefore, every one strives to recommend himself to his Majesty, by his diligence in his Service; whether in the Intendancies, or in any other Commissions. We may easily be convinced, how much it is for the Kings Interest, to have Persons of this sort about him; and perhaps he should not find them so exact and punctual, in the discharge of their Duty, if it were not, that they have always that recompence in their View, as the fruit of all their Labours.
There were Two other Brothers, died some days after the death of the Two
Bignons,
and there was one strange thing observed of them; that never any thing happened to the one, but what befel the other at the same time: they were Twins, and so like one another in the Face, that had not the one been a Soldier, and the other a Lawyer, so that their different Garbs made them known, the one would have been often taken for the other. They were both much given to gaming, and if one lost his money, it was sure the other lost his also, at the same time. When he who went to the Army was wounded, the other was wounded also by a fall, or some other Accident. If the one had a Mistress that jilted him, the other met with the same Treatment from his. In a word, all the difference that ever was taken notice of, was, that the one continued a Batchelor, much longer than the other; and there was nothing wanting in their whole life, but that one thing, to justifie what is ordinarily said of Children, that are born at the same Birth; That whatever happens to the one, inevitably befals the other. But perhaps he who continued a Batchelor so long after the other was married, did so, because he thought his Brother not very happy in his Marriage. There are some Wives, who give no great Encouragement to Men, to venture upon Marriage, especially, when they set up for Wits, and will pass a judgment upon every thing. It is the two
Bauquemars
of whom I am now speaking; the one of them, was Marishal
de Camp,
and Governour of
Bergues;
the other President of Requests of the Palace. The King gave this Government to the Count
de la Motthe,
Nephew of the late Marshal
d
la Motthe H
udanc
ur
who was also Marishal
de Camp.
The Count
a
Brion,
eldest Son of
Monsieur le Grand,
and who had the survivance of Master of Horse to the King, fell at this time into an Ap
plex
, though he was not at most, but Thirty Five Years of Age: And it was so extreme vi
l
nt, that his Face was dis
orted to that degree, that not only his Mouth stood aw
y, but what was yet more
mazing, one o
his Eyes came d
wn int
the Middle of his Face. His Father and Mother sent him to the Waters of
B
urbon,
and as he was up
n h
s Journey thithe
, he sell into an
t
er
it of the same Disease, so that it was beli
ved he was quite gone; yet he recovered of it, as he had do
e of
he first, and having made out hi
J
urney, the Waters a
d the n
tural strength of his Youth, r
covered h
m to a
etter State of Heal
h. The K
g,
as al
a
s loved his Fat
, was
o goo
as to
how glad he was at hi
R
covery. Bu
gave
Ma
ame la
,
nd m
r
sensible
roofs of
every body: She had a
, c
cerning the Inheritance of
, which she alleged,
King alle
ed the contrary;
to be well
ou
ded, because
wh
ch the De
te
the Portion of one of the Sons of
F
ance,
and re
urned always to the
were n
t Heirs ma
e to enjoy it.
Madame la grande
,
his fi
st Cousin, was not very rich;
gi
e her only Sixty Thousa
d
of
; for which reason it is, that she travels only with one Co
ch, which is not very becoming a Princess of the Blood, and especially a Grand-daughter of
Henry
IV. the King, I say, considering her Poverty, and that besides, she had some Reasons for her Claim, which seem'd to answer his own Reasons, told her, that if she pleased, he would let her enjoy her Sister's Estate during her Life, upon condition, that she should renounce the Property of it. This Princess, who desired only to be rich by the Revenue, without troubling her self, with what might happen after her Death, consented very willingly to this Proposal. But His Majesty has since that time, had some scruples of Conscience, because he had only given her the Profits of that Estate during her Life, which perhaps belonged to her in Property, and therefore, he has resigned the Property in her Favour, as he had formerly done the Revenue. This tenderness of Conscience, that will not allow this Prince to do any thing, for which it may reproach him, had made him reflect often, upon many things, that had passed during his Reign, which might be represented in other Colours than those were, which had been made use of to perswade him to undertake them. He saw, that his whole Kingdom was in a Flame, and that there was no other way to extinguish it, but by restoring a great number of Places, which his Enemies alleged he had taken only by force of Arms; and because he found it for his own conveniency to have them, without having any other right to them. If he had pleased, he might perhaps not only have let all
Europe
see the contrary, since he can give good reasons for what he has done; but he could have also maintain'd his right to those Places
y his Arms, since in despite of the prodigious Consederacy that has been form'd against him, he has always had the advantage of his Enemies, ever since he first perceived their Designs against his Crown.
However, as His Majesty has of a long time been chiefly concerned with his eternal Salvation; the care of which, has made many scruples arise in his Conscience: So, we admired and were astonished to see, that on a sudden, he had offered to deliver up the Towns of
Strasburg
and
Luxenburg,
which were the strongest Barriers of his Kingdom; Nay, he offered also to deliver up many others, which it must be confessed, were taken airly, with Sword in hand, when his Enemies were Witnesses of his Victories, and could no longer resist his Arms, though they were all assembled against him; so that it seems just to say, that he had a right to keep them or at least, to demand the Equivalent of them But the King considered, that
would break this dreadful Conspiracy, and restore Peace to his People, who groan'd under
e Burthen of the most cruel War, that ever was raised against any Soveraign, he must part with his own Interests He had sent long ago, the
Steu
de Calli
rs
to
Holland,
to make Proposals of Peace. He addressed himself to that People, rather than to any others; because he knew that the States, which subsist only by Trade, would hearken sooner, than any of the rest would do, when one spoke to them of putting an end to a War, which troubled them upon all quarters. Besides, the
Dutch
could gain nothing, by the Continuance of it; for they were not like the House of
Austria,
which flatters it self, that by the Continuance of War, it shall at last recover that supreme Power, that it once had in the time of
Charles
the Fifth. There was not one of the All
es, except only this House, who could hope to make any advantage of what was then doing in
Europe.
Insomuch, that it may be justly said, that all the Princes who were in that Confederacy, had taken up Arms, only for the Interests of the House of
Austria;
for all the Conquests they could hope for from the King, must have belonged to it. And though the Princes of the Empire had other Pretensions; yet, seeing they find by long experience, that the Emperor makes use of them (if I may be allowed to speak so) only as the Ape made use of the Cat's Foot, to take the Chesnuts out of the Fire; and that he has always known how to make use of the Right of Sequestration (to which he pretends) to his own advantage and their loss, and that at the Peace of
Nimiguen,
he kept
Philipsburg
to himself, though it belonged to the Bishop of
Spire:
They could therefore easily see, that they exhausted themselves only for his sake, and that they could expect no Benefit by it themselves. And though they had run headlong into the Confederacy against his Majesty, when it was propos'd to them; yet, that was only, because of the Fears they were under, from the Greatness of his Power. They considered, that it was their misfortune, to have their Dominions lying between Two Princes, whom they ought equally to suspect; and that they should do best to declare against him, who seemed to be in the greatest readiness to ruine them, rather than against the other, who was not as yet, in a condition to hurt them. These were the considerations that formed the Bonds, which united them so firmly with the Emperor; and which became the more indissoluble, that his Imperial Majesty found a way, how to keep these Princes in a dependance upon him, by making them believe, that the King had violated the Treaties of
Munster
and
Nimiguen,
and was a sworn Enemy of the Empire. It was not in His Majesty's Power at that time, to address himself either to them, to inform them of his good Intentions; or to the
English,
because they had set a Prince upon their Throne, whom His Majesty had not acknowledged as their lawful King; and whom he also considered as the very Soul of the confederacy, that had been form'd against him. It is true, the
Hollanders
had a sort of dependance upon this new King, both because he was their Stateholder, and because of a strict Union between him and the chief Men of their Republick. Yet, as His Majesty was resolved to acknowledge this Prince at last for King of
England,
so he believed, that what Bonds soever might be betwixt him and the
Dutch,
they would never coldly entertain the Proposals, which he cesigned to make them; especially, when they should see, that by removing this one Obstacle, there would be no great difficulty to obtain a general Peace: And truly,
Monsieur de Callieres
needed not to have been at great pains, to make them sensible, what were like to be the ill Consequences of the War, as well for themselves, as for the Princes of the Empire; that he might thereby perswade them, that it was their Interest to concur with His Majesty, in restoring Peace to
Europe.
They knew their own Interests too well, not to be sensible, that their own Safety, as well as the Safety of many other Potentates consisted in keeping
France
and
Austria
in a Ballance, or to speak more properly, in keeping them in equality to one another; seeing they serve as Counterweights, to all the Princes of
Christendom,
to save them from falling under the Power, either of the one or the other. For just as in a Ballance, we see, that when one side is much heavier than the other, if a sufficient Weight be put into that other Scale, then both are equal; so has it always been, since these Two Families interfered with one another. All the Princes of
Europe,
have acted by the same Rule, in assisting the weakest of the Two, and putting a stop to the growing Power of the other. And this Maxim is observed at this time; and has put the Sword in the Hands of so many Potentates, who were formerly in His Majesty's Interests; especially the
Hollanders,
and the Princes of the Empire, who found no Protection, either so ready, or so safe, as his was; when they were like to have been subjected to the House of
Austria.
However, the
Hollanders
finding by the Proposals the King made, and his Offers to deliver up so many Places, that if they could not bring these Two Houses to a just Equality, yet, they should at least make a Peace, upon such Terms, as that they needed not be so very much afraid of His Majesty's Power, they gave
Monsieur Callieres
a very favourable Reception: yet they would not grant him a Passport, but by allowance from the Prince of
Orange.
And before they would enter into any Conferences with him, they would first see, if the Powers, he had brought from His Majesty, were in good form. But they could be in no better form, than they were, since they were sealed with the Great Seal of
France.
There was one thing, that much hindred this Treaty, which was, that the
Hollanders
would do nothing, without the Consent of
England,
and their other Allies. But this was nothing but what
Monsieur Callieres
expected. For before he came from
France,
he doubted very much, that he could perswade them to enter into a separate Treaty with the King. Yet, that had been done, at the Treaty of
Nimeguen;
where his Majesty's Plenipotentiaries found a way, how to make them jealous of the Prince of
Oran
e
's Power; so that they made hast to make a separate Peace, which did soon oblige all the other Allies to an Accommodation with the King. But it was not fit at this time, so much as to propose what they were able then to effectuate. The
Dutch
became sensible of their mistake, and they would take care, not to fall into it again. But
Callieres,
who as I have said, had considered of this before, and who had Orders from the King, not at all to acknowledge the Prince of
Orange,
for King of
England,
till he should be assured of the Peace; found out an expedient, for reconciling the Orders he had from the King his Master, with this difficulty which the
Dutch
made, not to treat without the Consent of their Allies. It was, that they should not come to a final Conclusion in any thing, without their Approbation; but if they found reason to agree to any thing, they might communicate it to them; and that convenient measures might be taken afterwards. There was no Inconveniency in following this Advice, and the
Dutch
were satisfied with it, and by Consent of their Allies too. They demanded, as Preliminaries of this Treaty, the Restitution of
Lorrain,
and of the Towns of
Strasburg
and
Luxenbourg. Callieres
consented in the Kings Name, both to the one and the other; but upon Condition, that
Lorrain
should be restored to the Duke of that Name; upon such Terms, as had been agreed to, at the Treaty of
Nimeguen:
The President Can
n, who took care of the Duke of
Lorrain's
Interests in
Holland,
opposed this; under Pretence, that when his Master engaged in the Confederacy, it was promised, that Peace should never be made, till he had full Satisfaction. He represented to the Confederates, that if his Dominions were not restored to him, but upon the Terms of the Treaty of
Nimeguen,
he should be so far from reaping any advantage by the Confederacy, that he should be a loser by it; since he could have made a much better market, had he taken other methods, by which he might have been put in possession of his Dominions before the War; but having thought himself oblig'd to follow his Fathers example, who would not hear of these Conditions, near Twenty Years ago; it was very hard for him, now, after so many Years, to find, that no better Conditions were offered him.
But as great Potentates, who are well pleased to engage those in their interests, who are much inferiour to them in Power, that they may be the more successful in their designs; take not much care of their concerns, when they have no more use for them: so the Allies, after having spoke once or twice of this Affair, thought it not worth their while to insist any longer upon it: Mr.
President Canon,
gave in several Memoirs concerning it, and they told him, that they would take time to consider them, before any thing were concluded. And though the Emperours Ministers joyned with him, for obtaining full satisfaction to this Duke; yet neither the one nor the other were able to effectuate any thing. Things being thus far advanced, upon the part of the Dutch; and the English having as strong Inclinations for a Peace as they had, because of the many Prizes that were taken from them at Sea, which had brought their Trade very low; It was agreed upon all Hands, that Plenipotentiaries should be named, for bringing that to perfection, which as yet was only begun; but they had some difficulty to agree upon the Place of the Congress. The Emperour would have had it, in some Town of
Germany,
and the King would not hear of that proposal: But his Imperial Majesty's great desire was, to Protract time, for he was not very desirous of the Peace; because so long as the War should last, he knew that he was Master of all the Princes of the Empire, who were obliged to obey his absolute Commands; and he was afraid, that if the Peace should be concluded, they might come to open their Eyes, and be sensible of their true Interests; and to perceive, that in being so earnest, for the Increase of his Power, they should themselves be the Authors of his Usurpations upon their own Liberties and Prerogatives. But there was also another thing in his View, in which he consulted his own Interest, when he desired, that the Treaty might be in some Town of the Empire; For since the Peace with
Savoy,
the King was superior in Forces to all the Confederates; having sent all the Troops which had serv'd in that Country, from thence into
Germany:
And the Emperour was afraid, lest
Mentz
should be besieged; which would have been no difficult Enterprize, had the King thought fit to employ his Forces that way.
But if he could not obtain, that
Mentz
should be the Place, yet he thought at least, they would be satisfied that
Frankfort
should be it. And that a Neutrality should be established, for 12 or 14 Leagues round about that Town, so that
Mentz
should be comprehended in it. But the King being stiff in this matter, and the
Dutch
having propos'd the
Hague,
for the Place of Meeting, it was
agreed to, that those, whom His Maiesty should name for his Plenipotentiaries, should reside at
D
lf,
which is
ut One Leagues distant from it; and
were to be named by the other Princes,
reside at the
Hague,
and that the Conferences should be kept at the Castle of
Rys
wick,
which stands in the middle, and is equally distant from these Two Places.
Though the Emperor consented to this, as well as the rest of the Confederates; yet, it was a long time before he sent his
thither; which was a Proof, that he loved maner that the War should continue, than that a Peace should be concluded
s for the King, he made no de
ay to name
Monsieur Courtin
Counsellor of rate his Plenipotentiary; a Man every way capa
le of such an Employment, and who had acqui
ted himself very honourably in many Negotiations of great Importance: But he befought the King to excuse him in this, because he found his Eyes so bad, that it was to be fear'd, he should lose his sight altogether. It vexed the King to think that he m
look out for another; and he was at pains to examine him, if perhaps there were some secret Reasons, which hindred him from embracing this Employment; but having at lust found, that
in good earnest; he nam
d in his place,
Monsieur de Harlay,
the Chancellor's Son-in-law, who is also a Counsellor of State: He gave him
Monsieur do Creci
for his Colleague, and honoured also
Monsieur de Callieres
with the same Title of Plenipotentiary. There were great things talk'd of this Man's Conduct; though I do not see, that there was need of much Art, to do all that he did; for a man has no occasion to show, how well he is qualified for Negotiations of State; unless he have to struggle with great difficulties, which at last he overcomes by his prudent Conduct, and brings the whole affair to a happy Issue, for the Interest of the Prince that has imployed him: But this could not be said of
Monsieur Callieres,
who had made the Confederates listen to his Proposals; only by promising in the Kings Name, that he would deliver up to them, a great number of Places, which they could not have been able to retake by force of Arms, in Twenty Years time, though they had been much stronger than they were.
Monsieur de Harlay,
had been already employed in some secret Negotiations, but had not been successful in them; but he and
Monsieur Callieres,
had a third Person joyned with them, in the great Affairs they were now to be employed in; who could direct and assist them, when they met with difficulties, that were too hard for them; I mean
Monsieur de Creci,
who is one of the best qualified Men in
France,
for Affairs of this nature. He and
Monsieur de Harlay
took their Journey together, that they might be at the place of the Congress in due time; but they were not very well satisfied with one anothers Company;
Monsieur de Harlay
was d
ssatisfied, because
Monsieur de Creci
's Reputation eclipsed his own; and
Monsieur de Creci,
because
Monsieur de Harlay
carried it so high, as if he had undervalued him.
The Dispositions they were both in made them soon give some Proofs, that they were dissatisfied with one another; for being come to
L'Isle;
there was one
Le Normand,
a Farmer-General, who took upon him to Regale them; He was one of
Monsieur de Creci
's Friends, upon which account he detain'd them there, a whole day longer, than they intended to have staid: And that they might not blame him, for making them lose so much time, he gave them Flying Coaches, to carry them Ten or Twelve Leagues farther on their Journey; but he put his Friend
Monsieur de Creci
into the finest Coach, with the finest Horses in it; while
Monsieur de Harlay
got but a sorry Coach, and Horses with such Collars as draught Horses use to have instead of Harness. This vexed
Monsieur de Harlay
very much, who presumed, that if there was any distinction to be made between them, it should have been to his advantage. The Farmer-General, might have perceived by his looks, that he did not take it well of him, and he was heard to say behind his Back, that those who from nothing came to possess good Estates, could never learn to behave themselves like Gentlemen. However, he made use of the Coach and Horses, such as they were, but gave not many thanks to him who had provided them.
These Two Plenipotentiaries had met with a number of People, betwixt
Paris
and
L'Isle,
who wished them a good Journey, and in the mean time besought them earnestly to put an end to their Miseries, by concluding a happy Peace. They were not at all surprized at this, for before they took their Journey, they knew, how much
France
needed it. And we may easily judge, how much the Treasure of the Kingdom was exhausted, when we consider what Taxes and Subsidies must have been paid to the King, to enable him to resist so many Forces, as had conspired against him. He had no less than 500000 Men under Pay, by Sea and by Lard; which no doubt will appear incredible to Posterity: It was necessary, that People of all Ranks and Conditions within the Kingdom, should bear their Proportionable share of this Burthen; so that in imposing the Taxes, there was a necessity to do every thing, so to speak, by Weight and Measure, that no man might be oppressed, or obliged to pay more than his Proportion. And this is what the King's Ministers have done, with so much Conduct and Prudence; that though every man is sensible of his own Loss; yet it is nothing, in comparison of what it would have been, if those Affairs had been managed by Persons of less Skill and Art, than they are. However, these Plenipotentiaries saw the same thing in
Flanders,
that they had seen in
France;
that is, they saw, that the People there were no less weary of the War, than the
French;
They likewise besought them, with the greatest Earnestness, to use their utmost Endeavours for succeeding in the Treaty, which they were going to negotiate. At last they came to
Delf,
where the Houses were become so dear, since the People of that Town knew, that they were to come thither, that they could scarcely be had for Money.
While these things were a doing, the Procurator-General, whom the King had ordered to enquire into the matter of the Duel, that had been fought between the Bailist
d' Auvergne
and the
Chevalier de Kailus,
gave him an Account of the Discovery, he had made in it: But it was not at all to their advantage: He reported, that according to the
Affidav
t
's that were made before him it was far from having been an accidental Rencounter, as their Parents had alledged; that never Duel was more clearly proved, and therefore he desired to know, what Orders His Majesty would give about it. His Majesty ordered, that they should be Arraigned, Indited and Tried as Criminals; so that the same Officer, having caused it to be published, through the City by sound of Trumpet; as is usual upon such Occasions, the Parliament met, and outlawed them. By His Majesty's Edict against Duels, they ought to have been hang'd in Effigie. But the K
ng consented privately to remit something of that Rigour, because of the Kindness he had for their Parents; and they were only condemned to lose their Heads, which was accordingly executed at the
Greve,
where their Pictures were put up, but were not suffered to be long there: For there were some People took them away about an hour after, that is, in the Twilight of the Evening. These sorts of things, are very ordinary in
France;
insomuch, that it's commonly said, that there is not one Great Family in the whole Kingdom, but what the like has happen'd to; and what has had Ladies and Daughters of naughty Lives. And therefore, the Parents of these Two unhappy young Gentlemen, were not much afflicted with the Loss of their Sons; nor were less in favour at Court, than they had been before▪ The Cardinal
de Douillon,
who is the Bailiff
d' Auvergne
's Uncle, made a Jest of what his Nephew had dore; and of what had befallen him. In which his Eminence was not like many other people, who had rather be e
gaged in the most difficult Affair in the World, than
e accountable for a Duel. And it's certain, that the
M
ssicurs de la Frette,
could never extricate themselves out of those Troubles, which they brought upon themselves, 34 or 35 Years ago; by quarrelling with the Prince
de Chalais,
as they were coming out of the
Palais Royal.
They
ght
against
our, but though all of them, or at least the greater part of them, were of the first Fa
lies of the Kingdom; nay, though the P
pe himself interceeded for a Remission to them, yet the King would never grant them one, so that some of them died, making their escape to one part, others to another, and of all those that were engaged in that Duel, I know none alive, but the elder
La Frette,
and the Marquis
de Flammarin.
It is true, the Marquis
d' Autin,
the eldest Brother of
Monsieur de Mont
pan,
lost his Life in this Quarrel, having been wounded in the
Vena cava,
so that he died upon the spot. I
the Count
d' Auvergne
was afflicted for the loss of his Eldest Son, he was in some measure comforted, by what the Monks of
Cluni
did for one of his younger Sons, when he was not thinking of it. The Cardinal
de Janson,
the King's Ambassador at
Rome,
had desired, that his Majesty might be pleased to recal him, and the Cardinal
de Bouillon,
had got a Commission to succeed him; and he being Abbot of
Cluni
he visited that Abbey, as he was going to
Rome.
He is always very obliging, and engages all that know him to wish him well. So soon as he told these Monks, that he was going to
Rome,
and that perhaps, he might never see them any more, they replied, that they should be very sorry, if that should happen, but if it should be the good will of God so to order it, they would at least before they took leave of him, give a Testimony of the deep Sense they had of that Kindness and Concern, which his Eminence had always shown for them: They told him no more of it that day, but on the Morrow, they ordered that a Bell should be toll'd for a meeting of the Chapter, and then they chose
Monsieur d' Auvergne,
who is the Cardinal's Nephew, for his Coadjutor. They brought this good News to his Eminence, who knew not the cause of their meeting, and they told him at the same time, that since he was going to
Rome,
and that it belonged to the Pope to confirm their Election, they did not doubt, but he should obtain that favour of his Holiness, when ever he thought fit to ask it; and they took leave of him, with this Compliment, for which his Eminence thanked them very heartily. For this is one of the most genteel and most honourable Abbies in
France,
though it be none of richest. Yet it has Seven or Eight Thousand Livres of Revenue. But that, for which it is most to be valued, is, that it has Benefices, at it's Gift, to the value of near a Million of Revenue; so that the Abbot of this Place, has many opportunities, to make new Creatures to himself, and to reward those whom he has already.
The Cardinal
de Bouillon
would fain have carried along with him
Monsieur de Coulanges,
who is a pleasant sort of a man, and what he says, is very diverting; he drinks, composes, and sings; and he has good Skill in Sauces and Ragoo's; and in a word, he knows how to spend his time agreeably, which makes many People desire his Company: He had once stay'd with his Eminence, in his Abbey of
Pontoise,
where he had always People of his own choice, at his Table. He had formerly travelled to
Rome,
with
Monsieur de Chaulnes▪
and he was as well known there to the Cardinals, as was the Ambassador himself. But he refused Cardinal
Bouillon,
what he had granted the other; and excused himself, under pretence of some Affairs: Whether, what he pretended, was true, or not, I cannot tell. The Instruction of greatest Importance, which his Eminence carried to
Rome,
was concerning the Affairs of
Poland;
where the question was, who should be chosen King of that Kingdom: Because
John Sobieshi
who had possessed that Throne since the Year 1674, died in 1697: He had left many Children by his Queen, whom he had married before he was promoted to the Royal Dignity; her Maiden-Name was
Francoise de Nation,
Daughter of the Marquis
d' Arquyen,
of whose Family there was once a Mareshal of
France,
under the Name of
Montigny.
Her Birth should have united her closely to the
French
Interests. But Women resent the Affronts or the Refusals they meet with, more highly than others do. She had become an Enemy to the King long ago; because he would not grant her the favour she desired of him, which was, to make her Father Duke and Peer of
France;
ever since which time, she has done all was in her power against
France,
and has not kept those measures, that Prudence and Civility obliged her to; insomuch, that she caused some Insolencies to be done to the Marquis
de Vitrich
the King's Ambassador. The King her Husband, who tho' he was a man not only of as great Valour, as any in the World, but of great experience in War, of which he gave sufficient Proof, at his raising the Siege of
Vienna,
when the Infidels besieged it,
Ann,
1683. yet he was not a man of so much Prudence, in other Actions of his Life. For while he was upon the Throne, he behaved himself rather like a private man, than a Soveraign; his chief care was to hoard up Money, without taking any pains to make Creatures and Friends to himself, and his Children. He never considered, how necessary these were, for placing one of his Posterity upon the Throne, after his Death; or if he did consider this, he has thought, that they could always make themselves Friends, by the Treasures which he should leave them. And therefore, he sold all the Palatinates that came to be void; as well as every other thing, with which the former Kings of
Poland
used to gratifie the Nobility and Gentry of that Kingdom. These Practices, had alienated the hearts of his Subjects from him, as well those who had bought those Places, as those who expected to have had them in Gift, and without Money: So that, his Children were far from having any ground to hope, that they should have the same good fortune that Three several Families, who possessed this Crown successively had formerly had; I mean the Families of
Mamcllus, Jagellon
and
Palatin,
whose Children, so long as they had any, succeeded to the Throne; so that it did not pass into any other Family, than their own.
However, the King having advice of all this, thought to place a Prince of his own Blood, upon that Throne, who was a Subject, and such a one too, as the
Polanders
must always have to be their King. For they are a People that soon despite their Prince, unless he be a brave Man, and capable to lead their Armies himself in Person, without which qualification, he has buy a melancholy Life among them.
The last of the
Palatins
who enjoyed that Crown, was an Instance of this: And it's known, that this people, obliged him to apdicate, so soon as they perceived that his Conduct did not answer to that of his Ancestors. The Prince whom the King proposed, was
Francis Lewis de Bourbon
Prince of
Conti;
who in this War, which his Majesty had maintained against the greater part of
Europe,
has given such extraordinary Proofs of his Valour and Conduct; that all the Army said openly, that the very Spirit and Soul of the late Prince of
Conde
his Uncle, who was one of the greatest Captains that ever
France
had, was return'd to this World, and had taken possession of the Prince of
Conti
's Body, that he might save his King and his Country from the Confederacy that was formed against them. I know that this way of expressing themselves, was altogether extraordinary and new; but as it was impossible for them to express more emphatically, the just E
cem they had for that Prince, as a singularly brave Man; so this way of speaking, passed so currant, and was so often repeated, that his Reputation for true Courage, is established in forreign Countries, as well as in
France.
Though this Prince is not rich, yet he sent 200000 Crowns of his own Money into
Poland,
to gain the Suffrages of those who had already Inclinations for him, only upon the Account of his great Fame. For, as this is the only time of Harvest with the great men of
Poland,
so a Prince needs never pretend to their Crown, unless he will sow before hand, that they may reap the Fruits of it. The more that this Prince had of true merit, the more was
Sobieski
's Widow-Queen, enraged against the King. She entertain'd hopes to have her eldest Son Prince
James,
chosen to succeed his Father; and for this very end, she had married him to a Sister of the Empress's, and of the Queen of
Spain
's, that he might have the Emperors Assistance. But all the Assistance in the World, being of no use in that Country, unless it be supported with liberal Donatives, and she being narrow and penurious that way, as her Husband was. The Prince of
Conti,
would have soon carried it against Prince
James,
had there been no other Competitors for it.
The Queen of
Poland
finding, that she could hardly succeed in her designs for her eldest Son, endeavoured to perswade
Monsieur l' Abbee de Polignac,
the French Ambassadour, to alter his measures, by offering, that if he would recommend the Duke
de Vendome
to be chosen King, instead of the Prince of
Conti,
she would unite her friends with his, upon condition, that the Duke, should marry her so soon as he was chosen. At the same time, she sent two of her Sons to
Paris,
under pretence of travelling, but her true designs was, that they might be Spies at the French Court; and might see, if the King was in such a Condition to support the Prince of
Conti's
pretensions, as the
Abbee de Polignac
pretended. For it was reported in
Poland,
and almost in all foreign Countries, that
France
was drained both of Men and Money, and that it was so far from being able for such an undertaking, that it was upon the brink of ruin, unless a peace was speedily concluded. The
Abbee de Polignac
gave the King an account of the Queen of
Polands
Proposals, but at the same time advised him not to trust her. And assur'd him, that she would rather make her faction joyn with that of the House of
Austria,
than with the Prince of
Conti's.
For she had so far forgotten, that she was a born Subject of
France,
that she thought of nothing so much, as how to embarass all his Majesty's Projects and Designs; In the mean time, the two Princes,
Alexander
and
Constantine,
younger Brothers of Prince
James,
came into
France
And that they might make the French Court entertain a better Opinion of their Mother, than i
did from the Account that the
Abbee de Polignac
had given of her, they brought along with them, near three Millions of Gold, and put Eight hundred thousand Crowns of it into the Town-House i. e. the Bank of
Paris.
The Queen of
Poland
designed by this, to let the world see she had not renounced
France,
as the
Abbee de Polignac
had insinuated: And that she was resolved to settle her two Sons in that Kingdom, in case they could not
with Honour. But besides, that this
seemed for her interest, she made also
strantage by that Gold which she had sent
for as to its fineneis, it was much below the standard of the
French
Coyn, yet it was taken into the Mint as if it had been the finest Gold in the world, for the King stood so much in need of Money, that he was content to take it as it was. When these two Princes were come to
Paris,
and to the Court, they were soon convinced by the Luxury they saw in both these Places, that the reports which had been industriously spread in
Poland,
were altogether false. They betook themselves to those diversions that Princes of their Age do usually entertain themselves with: They went to all the Balls that they heard of, and there was one thing besel them that deserves we should give an Account of it.
Being at one of these Balls, with Five or Six Gentlemen of their Retinue, who were Masked as well as themselves, there was there one of the
Mousquetaires
of the Kings Houshold, who had put on the habit of a Counsellor, and was therewith Disguised. He chanced to meet with the young Princes, whom he did not know, and told them very Gravely, that it was to no purpose, that they should put themselves to so much trouble in a business wherein they could not succeed and therefore as their Counsel he would seriously advise them, to agree with their adversary, otherways, they would be cast in their suit. The two Princes had received letters from
Poland,
the day before, wherein they had the bad News, that the Queen their Mother despaired of succeeding in her designs; and this News had spread through the Town, so that they never reflected, that this discourse was said Innocently and without any other design, but that it might suit with the Garb he had then put on; They Imagined on the other hand, that he had spoken with relation to the news they had received, and they were so enraged against him, that they thought it not enough, to call him Villain and Rogue, and that he was but an insolent Rascal, to behave, himself with so little respect to them, but they also Bastinad'd him Soundly. The poor Counsellor, finding that he had but a bad cause to plead for himself, began to cry out, What do this to me, a
Mousquetaire,
to me? as those of the Company of
Mousquetaires
use to do, when they find, that they have to deal with too strong a party. But the Princes of
Poland
pulling off their Masks, that it might be known who they were, there was not so much as one Person that would come to the assistance of the poor bastinado'd
Mousquetaire.
He marched off with the blows he had received, and resolved to complain to the King, from whom he expected more Justice; No doubt he had reason to demand it, and would certainly have obtained it, if he had had to do with those of hit own Rank. But the Princes were before-hand with him in complaining to his Majesty. And he had the hard fortune to be sent to prison, so soon as he offered to speak of it. By this treatment, and by what he had before met with, he became sensible, that it was not for his Interest, to take up a Trade that he had no skill in; and therefore he resolved never to profess it any more, or if he did, he would never give counsel but to those who asked it of him. The one of these Princes was much handsomer than the other. And the King was resolved to give them the blew Ribban,
i. e.
to make them Knights of the
Holy Ghost;
This was to do good for evil. For the Queen their Mother, never failed to do all that was in her Power, to traverse his Majesty's Designs. When they gave her Advice of this, she sent an Express to them, and told them, that she was surprized to find, that they had so much as listened to such a Proposal; since they could not but know, that if they accepted of it, they should thereby act directly contrary to the Interests of their Family; that they knew how a
she was engaged in the Interest of the House of
Austria;
and that they must follow her Example, in adhering closely to that House. By this it is manifest, that she had altogether forgotten her Native Country, ever since she was put to it, to keep up the Splendour of her Childrens Family, by endeavouring to raise her Eldest Son to Royal Dignity. These Princes having received these Orders from their Mother, gave the King thanks for the Honour he had offered to do them, but excused themselves for not accepting of it: They frequented the Balls as formerly, tho' they were sometimes engaged in other Business; as particularly with the Marquis
de Coaquin,
a Person of Quality in
Brittany,
who had but a little before, married one of the Marshal
de Noaille
's Daughters.
This was no ill Match for him, especially, seeing the Mareshal was so much in favour. The King had given him the Command of his Army in
Catalonia,
though he was not a Man of so much Experience as many others; for except, that he had commanded some Troops, in the time of Peace; because he was first Captain of the Life-guards, all the Preferment he had come to, was to be
Aide de Camp
to His Majesty. But the King added yet another Honour to this, and made him Mareshal of
France,
in the Year 1693. though no body could see, that he had done any great things to deserve such a Preferment. However, whether it be that His Majesty knows Peoples Merits better than others do; or if Fortune, which has favoured him in all his Undertakings, designed to approve of his Choice; this Mareshal gained very soon a considerable Battle: He had formerly taken the Towns of
Roses
and
Gironne;
and then it was said of him, that though he had not done any thing to deserve the Mareshal's Staff, when he first received it; yet he had afterwards made it appear, that he was worthy of it. His Father who was one of Cardinal
Mazarin
's Creatures, had been also a Captain of the Life-guards; and it was his Fortune to be raised to that Post when he was least expecting it. It was in the King's Minority, and the Occasion of it was this: The Queen Mother had become jealous of the Count
de Termes;
who was provided of the same Charge, so that he was forced to remove from the King's Person, at a time when it was his Turn to have waited upon him. When he was dismissed, she ordered that another Captain of the Guards should take his
Batton;
but they had all promised to one another, to do nothing to the Prejudice of their Fellow-Officer; for which the Count
de Charost
was banished; and Monsieur
de Chandenier,
was yet more unfortunate; for the Queen took his Commission from him, and gave it to the Marshal
de Nouailles
's Father, so that he was never able to recover it, though he lived a long time after. It was not for want of Time, that he could not succeed; nor was it for want of Conjunctures, that seemed favourable enough for him, for he was of the same Family, that Madam
de Morte
pan
was of: And since he was not more guilty than the Count
de Charost,
who was soon recalled from his Banishment, and made Duke and Peer of
France;
it may be said, that there is nothing in this World, but good or bad Fortune: For this Man was so far from being in a worse condition because of his Disobedience; that he raised his Fortune to such a degree, that he could not desire to raise it higher; while the unfortunate Marquis
de Chandinier,
was quite undone with his Fall.
Tho' it be to the only late Duke
de Nouailles,
that his Family owes the present Greatness, to which it has arrived; yet it must be confessed, that it is an ancient and honourable Family. I know that the present
Madame de Bouillon,
when she was striving for the Door with the Dutchess
de Nouailles,
spoke of her and her Family with so much Disdain, that if her Word could have been taken for it, the Family of
Nouailles
should have been thought a very despicable one: I know also, that she produced some old Papers, by which it was found, that one
Anthony de Nouailles,
had been Steward of the House, to the Viscount
de Turenne;
but as Stewards of the House at that time, were usually Gentlemen, and as there are younger Brothers of good Families, who are forced to condescend to meaner things than he did; so that One Instance, ought not to give us any mean Opinion of that Family, which is certainly very noble and very ancient. And it cannot to be said, that the Marquis
de Coaquin
match'd below his Quality; when he married a Daughter of it, though it be true, that his Family has sometimes made greater Alliances: For not to go far back, his Mother was
Rohan Chabot,
and his Grandmother
Orleans Longueville.
He had a great Estate in
Brittany,
which his Mother resigned in his favour, as she did almost every thing she could claim by her Marriage-Contract, and for her Dowry. For this is a Lady of extraordinary Virtue, and so soon as she had put her Affairs in order, she resolved to retire into a Convent, and reserved nothing to herself, but 10000 Livres
per Ann.
which was by very much less than what she had a Right to, if she had exacted so much as she might have done. Her Son was but 18 Years old, when he married
Madamoiselle de Nouailles,
but he was as tall a Man as he could expect to be at 25; and his Mother importuned him to take a Wife, because he was the only Child his Father had left. This Lady had not been very happy in her Marriage, though she was of an agreeable Complexion, and of a very good Air, yet she had not so much Beauty as to please her Husband; and since she knew by her own Experience, what Disgusts Husbands use to take at their Wives, when they are not altogether agreeable; she ought at least to have chosen an handsome Lady for her Son, that he might not fall into the same Immoralities, that her Husband had done. But this was what she had thought least of, and she had soon reason to repent of it. For upon the Morrow after the Marriage, when some of her Sons Friends came to pay him their Compliments, upon that Occasion; he could not forbear telling them, that they needed not give themselves that trouble; that his Mother had chosen a Dwarf for him, instead of a Wife: That it seem'd she who was a devout Lady, had made this Choice, because the Duke
de Nouailles
was devout also. But for his part, he wish'd his Wife more so than either of them; that he might not be troubled with lying with her: And that he was resolved henceforth to treat her as a Relique; that is, that he should never come near her, but upon Holy Days. From that day he gave such Proofs of his want of Affection to her, that all the Family took notice of it: They all consulted, what was fit to be done in such a Case; that
Monsieur de Coaquin,
might not engage himself in those lewd Cour
es, that Husbands use to betake themselves to, when they come to despise their Wives. The Archbishop of
Paris,
who is the Mareshal's Brother, was called among the first, to give Advice in this matter: And they all agreed, that because the new married Lady was pale as Death, which made her the more disagreeable to her Husband, it was therefore necessary to find out some Expedient, to give her a better Colour, they had recourse to Painting, which is highly esteem'd among the Ladies, who by daubing their Faces with white and red, make themselves look to be of as fine Complexions as they plea
e. But many of the more scrupulous sort of People, were surprised, when they heard, that so good a Man as this Prelate, and so devout a Lady as the Dowager of
Nouailles,
had advised such a thing as that. But though the Archbishop of
Paris,
and the Dutchess
de Nouailles,
did not only cause this Lady's Face to be painted with white and red, but also caused Shooes to be made for her, with Heels that were a Quarter of an Ell high, that she might thereby appear so much the
; yet she was as unlovely in the Eyes of her Husband, as she had been before; nay, he thought her the more ugly, upon this very account; insomuch that instead of conversing with her, he entreated his Friends, who spoke to him sometimes of her and of his Father in Law, that if they would oblige him, they would not so much as speak either ill or good of them. In the mean time, he endeavoured to comfort himself, as well as he could with good cheer, and in the Company of some Ladies, whom he visited, not upon the account of any familiar converse, but that he delighted to vex them, and they were never more out of humour, than when they saw him come into their Company, so that they would gladly have gone out at the Window, to shun any converse with him, if they could have done it.
The
Mareshal de Nouailles
who has had more than twenty Children by his Lady, though she be not to this time much above forty years, had as yet another daughter to marry, there was a great difference between her and
Madam de Coaquin.
The one was as agreeable, as the other was deformed; which made one say to the Marquis
de Coaquin,
that the Mareshal had given him
Leah,
but had kept
Rachel.
There was abundance of young Gentlemen who were Suitors to this new
Rachel,
both because her Father was much in favour at Court; and because she herself was so great a Beauty: The Count
d' Estrees
(who came to be happier than the rest; for it was he that married her;) was of the number of those who made their Addresses to her. His Ambition carried him to this, as much as any thing else. He considered, that though he was of a Family, which is in the Possession of more Honours, in the Person of his Father and his two Uncles, than any other Family is, yet that was nothing to him, unless he could attain to the like Honours: For tho' his Fathers elder Brother was Duke and Peer of
France,
and that his Son had succeeded to him in the same Honours, and though his Father was Mareshal of
France,
and his Uncle a Cardinal, yet he himself had no Place or Rank at Court, and was only considered there, as a Person of Quality, as Ten Thousand others are. So that he saw nothing that could satisfie his Ambition, unless he went aboard of the Fleet, where he would be obliged to signalize himself, because he had the Survivance of the Office of Vice-Admiral, which his Father was in Possession of: His Uncle the Cardinal, who had a greater Kindness for him, that for the Duke
d' Estrees,
though he was his Nephew as well as he, and by his elder Brother too, advised him to this Marriage; and he used his utmost Endeavours to bring it about, as the only means whereby he might be made a Duke, as his Cousin was. And he was so earnest in this Affair that he sent Word to the Duke
de Nouailles,
tha
if he could presume so much upon his favour, a
to employ him to procure a Dukes Patent to his Nephew, he should marry his Daughter without one Farthing of Portion: And he promised also to make him his Heir, and to make the Inheritance as good as he could. The Duke
de Nouailles,
who had not much Money to give with his Daughter and who had given no great Portion with
Madame de Ceaquin,
though he had made a shew of contracting for
Franks,
but it was in Cats are Rats,
to
that is, he had given him a Regiment, and some other lesser Preserments; the Duke I say, was not so rich, but that he had
to be
and sparing of his Money; and he was well
with the Proposal, but he was
to be
ond of it. And
to him
in the
, had better
to that Honour, upon the a
Fathers great Services
had with the King; but
to marry his Daughter,
he had to
was true, he had more
others, to carry on such
he was Captain of the
him an easie Access to the King's Person; but that was not enough for a matter o
so great Importance, and therefore he ought no to trust to it so much, but that besides marrying his Daughter, he should take all the same measures he would do, if he were to marry another: But it was very difficult for the Count
d' Estrees,
to take those measures; because the Mareshal would not give him so much Money, as was necessary to put his Affairs in a good Condition. For want of this, they resolved upon all hands to deal with one
Madame de Thoist,
a rich Lady; she was the Widow of a
Maîere de Comptes,
and she had lent a considerable Sum to the
Cardinal d' Estrees,
and was not payed of it: And besides, she was a Friend of the Duke and Dutchess
de Nouailles;
and because she had no Children, they told her so often, that she ought to adopt
Madamoiselle de Nouailles,
for her Daughter, that though they could not prevail with her to leave her all her Estate, yet they perswaded her to do something for her. And she offered at last, to give her what the Cardinal
d' Estrees
owed her. But becau
e they would have more, the matter is put off to this time; for she will not give away all her Estate in her own Life-time; yet she promises, that besides the Sum which the Cardinal owes her, which she is willing to part with presently, she shall also consider this young Lady in her Will; so that she shall be sure of something more at her Death. That which sell out between the Princes of
Poland
and the Marquis
de Coaquin,
was not at all for his Advantage; if we may believe what is commonly reported. In the mean time, they took their Journey to return into their own Country; after they had been magnificently regaled, by many Persons that belonged to the Court.
Monsieur de Langlee,
who is none of the least considerable of them, if we consider nothing but his expensive way of living, was the first who gave them a splendid Entertainment; and acquitted himself very handsomly in it. He is now in possession of being the first who regales Strangers of great Quality upon their arrival: Which made the King say, some time ago,
i e.
before the arrival of the two Princes, that
Monsieur Langlee
seemed to be made for no other end, but to entertain all the strangers that came to Court. But he entertains Persons of Quality, who are of the French Nation, as Magnificently, as he does strangers. There is not a Man about the Court that regales our Princes and Princesses so often, as he does, and he has got into a Custom, of providing a Collation for the
Dauphin,
as often as he comes to the Opera. It is but of late that he was in a condition to acquit himself well in such an undertaking, for though his Father who was once but a poor man, and of mean extract, made up some small estate to him, yet it was far from being sufficient for such costly Entertainments. He has raised his Estate by gaming; which has put him in a condition to build so many fine Houses, and by which, he has so great yearly Revenues. And considering the first years of his gaming, and now that he is become rich, it may be said of him, what was once said to the President
Bellievre
by one that designed to flatter him. I confess that the beginning of this Discourse would be insipid, but that it is agreeable to the first beginnings of his fortune, and that the last part of it would be impertinent, but that it suits with his present Circumstances.
This President, who was the chief Man in the Parliament of
Paris,
had always some Debate with
Cardinal Mazarin,
whom he did not much Esteem, and it may be, the
Cardinal
had as little Esteem for him, and perhaps he was in the right too. However, the Man I just now spoke of, knowing, what Opinion this Chief President had of his Eminence; said to him once, whilst they were speaking of him, that no great Account was to be made of such Men, whose fortunes were volatile, and what show soever they made, yet they were but like glaring meteors, which disappear'd in a short time. But on the other hand, he said that the Presidents fortune was built upon a rock, and that he must be a Man of very little sense, who did not see a great difference, between the one and the other. We may easily perceive, that the Man who spoke so, was best acquainted with old customs, since he magnified a chief President so much, and undervalued a chief Minister. And at most it is only during a Kings minority, that this way of reasoning will hold good. But now a days, he should be accounted a Mad-man, or one that had returned from the other world, that would speak at such a rate. In a word, if
Monsieur de Langlees
fortune, might have been compared to a Meteor, while his high spending was
ounded only upon what he gained at game, yet he has now settled it upon so many fair Buildings, in
Paris
and in the Country, that we may say, what the Man said to the President, that he had now founded it upon a Rock.
Madame la Marquise de Bethunes,
who is the Queen of
Polands
Sister, gave also a Magnificent Entertainment to the two Princes her Nephews. There were many Persons of Quality, of both Sexes, at this feast, and it ended with a splendid Ball. Yet this Marchioness is not at all rich, nay she's very poor to be sister of a Queen; yet it was her own fault, that she had not a better estate. For when her husband was Ambassadour in
Poland,
the Queen her Sister was resolved to make her rich; But she became jealous, that the Queen was in love with her husband, and that it was for his sake, that she made so kind Offers. Her jealousie made her commit a thousand follies, which so displeased that Court, that her Husband dying there, all that she brought to
France
from that Country, was a gift of a hundred thousand Crowns, which the Late King of
Poland
gave her, upon the Estate of the Late Duke
de Longueville.
This Monarch had lent this Money, while he was but great
Mareshal
of
Poland,
and when the Duke
de Longueville
was aspiring to that Crown. But his Sister the
Dutchess de Nemours
refused to pay it, as well as all the other sums, which he had borrowed at that time, that he might attain to Royal dignity. She pretended, that her brother was under age, when he borrowed these sums, and therefore, she was not obliged to pay them. This gave occasion to a Law suit, before the Council, and it appeared intricate and doubtful. For the Law forbids to lend Money to Minors; unless it be manifestly for their advantage, and therefore.
Sobiesky
ought to lose his Money; because the Duke was not of age when he borrowed it. But the
Marchioness de Bethunes,
as well as the Dukes other Creditors, answered to this, that what might be considered in the case of ordinary Loans, ought not to be considered in such an extraordinary case as this was, when the borrower of the Money, designed to employ it for obtaining a Crown; and that this had been always the Opinion of the Prince of
Condee,
who while he was alive, was still desirous that
Monsieur l' Abbee d' Orleans,
who was Brother and heir to the deceased Duke
de Longueville,
should pay punctually the full interest, of all the Money that had been Borrowed upon that Account That it was he, who took care of all the Affairs of the Family of
Longueville,
because
L' Abbe d' Orleans,
who was the Duke's elder Brother was but a weak Man, and unfit for Business. That, their Sister the Dutchess
de Nemours
dared not to have spoken any thing against the payment of those debts, so long as her Brother was alive. But now that he was dead, and that the Prince of
Condee,
who had always supported the Claim of the Creditors, was dead also; she who loved Cavils and litigious debates, had brought them to the Trouble and Expence of a Law Suit. It was first debated before the Parliament of
Paris,
but at last it was brought before the Kings Council. Either because the affair was of importance, or that it ought in course of Law to have been carried thither. And it was truly the Kings Interest to take cognisance of it himself, especially at such a Juncture as that was, for it was his concern to gain the Polanders to the Prince of
Conti's
Interest, and not to give them cause to complain, that they were cheated by the Duke
de Longueville,
who had borrowed Money of
Sobiesky,
and of several other Persons of Quality among them. Therefore the King Ordered the
Marquis de Barbesieux
to consider the case, and to report it fully in his Presence. For the Secretaries of his Majesty's Commands, of which this
Marquis
is one, are also Counsellors of state, and have the same Commissions, so that the King may Charge them with all sorts of business, as he can do any of the rest of that number. But after some days, his Majesty considered, that so young a man as the
Marquis de Barbesieux,
was scarcely capable of an affair of such importance; and that an old and experienced Counsellor of state, would be much fitter for it. He therefore took it out of the
Marquis
's hands, and Committed it to
Monsieur de Ribere.
But
Madame de Nemours's
Council had found so many shifts, that this has been put off from time to time, and is not as yet determined. Yet it is believed that she will be cast in it, as she was in another Law-
uit, which she had against the Prince of
Conti,
before the
Requetes du Palais.
This case was of yet greater importance than the former; and there were some Circumstances in it, that were very considerable, and therefore I shall give a full Account of it.
Monsieur l' Abbe d' Orleans,
whom I just now mentioned, having renounced his right of Primogeniture, in favour of the
Comte de St. Paul
his younger Brother, who thereafter took the Title of Duke
de Longueville,
he was in a short time restored to all his rights, by the Death of that Prince, who like a fool, was the Occasion of his own Death, as he was passing the
Rhine. Monsieur l Abbee
was willing to have made over the whole Estate to his Uncle the Prince of
Condee;
but this Prince, who enjoyed eighteen hundred thousand Livres of yearly revenue, thought, that he had already more than was sufficient to make him happy, if Riches alone can make us so; and therefore he advised him to give it to his Mother,
Madame de Longueville,
who had more need of it than he. The
Abbee
was a man that did every thing he was advised to, especially if the Advice came from a Person of Authority, like the Prince
de Condee:
so that he agreed, that those who managed his affairs, should draw up his will, and that he should sign it. It was done as the Prince of
Condee
was pleased to order it, and the
Abbee
altered not so much as one word in it. By this will he gave over the Principality of
Neufchatel
in
Suitzerland
with some other possessions, to his Mother the Dutchess
de Longueville
during her Life. But after her Death the Prince of
Condee
had Right to them by the same will, if no new will should be made. But he who had already refused them, was resolved not to make any advantage of the
Abbees
will for the future, and therefore, he caused his right to be made over to the Prince of
Conti,
after the Death of the Dutchess. The Prince of
Conti,
had need of a good Estate, for his Fathers Marriage was disadvantageous for his Fortune, as well as for his Honour. He had resigned the
Abbacy
of
St. Denis,
with many other good benefices, for the sake of a Niece of Cardinal
Mazarins,
who was truely a Virtuous Lady, but her Uncle gave her nothing in Marriage, though he had so pillaged
France,
that he might have given her a great Estate, without pinching himself in the least. Yet he had promised him Mountains of Gold, as he always used to do, when he had a design to cozen any body, but having dealt by her and her Husband as he usually did by all those, with whom he had any business, though he might at least have put some difference between him and others, both upon the Account of his Quality, and because his Niece was Married to him. This Prince died very poor for a Person of his Rank. However The Dutchess
de Nemours
being informed of the Will, which her Brother had made, importuned him so, as that she prevailed with him after the Prince of
Condees
Death, to make it void; and to make another will, by which he left the whole Inheritance to her. Now this
Abbee
dying soon after, and the Prince of
Conti
pretending, that the will which had been made in his favour, ought to prevail against this Last will, the
Requetes du Palais
were the proper Judges, in the first point of the controversie. The Reasons of his plea, were, that
Monsieur l' Abbee d' Orleans
was
non Compos
when he made the Last will, so that it ought to be considered as if such a thing had never been done. If
Madame de Nemours
had been well advised, she would have said the same of him when he made his first will, and she would have had no difficulty in proving it; so that the first being no better than the second, she should have succeeded by law, to the whole Estate; without any sentence in her favour, because she was his sister. But her Council it seems was as Visionary, as those who live beyond the
Alps,
who plead for the Popes Infallibility. They maintain'd, that the Testator was sound in his Judgment, when he made the second will, whereby the first was made void. And they had no other way to prove this, but by the Popes Infallibility, who had put him into Priests orders, at the very time, that he made this second will. And they alledged, that it could not be supposed, that the Pope would have ordained him Priest, if he had not been in his right wits. And they thought this so good a Reason, that they could not conceive, how it could have been answered. So that they neglected all other reasons, and adhered only to this one, to support their Cause. The Prince of
Conti
desired, he might be allowed to prove, that the
Abbee
was
nonCompos
when he made his last Will, which he offered to do by Evidences that could not be excepted against. He was allowed to prove it, and he produced his Evidences, upon whose Deposition the whole Cause depended. The Question was, if
Monsieur l' Abbee d'Orleans
was sound in his Judgment, when he made his second Will. But there was no great diffi
ulty to resolve this Question, for there were Evidences that told things of him, that could not have been said of any Man, but one that was fit for a Bedlam. And among other things they deposed, that when he was going to say Mass, the first time after he was ordained Priest; he stopped when he came near to the Rails, which usually separates the Sanctuary and the Altar from the
Neve
of the Church, and there he tried if he could jump over the Rails, with his Feet close together. They deposed al
,
hat when he found he was not able to do it, he came back about 20 Pac
, that he might give himself more Force by running; and in this mann
the Holy Sacrifice unto God Almighty; a
d
g
ve a Thousand other Proofs of his being a Fool, an Account of which wou'd be too tedious.
Madam de Nemour's
Council were aston shed, when they heard the Evidences depose such things as these, and they wished then, that they had not relied so much upon the Popes Infallibility, and that they had taken better measures, but it was now too late. The Judges proceeded to pronounce a Sentence, by which that Prince, the
Abbee,
was declared to have been
non compos,
when he made his second Will.
Although the City of
Paris,
and all the Court were overjoyed, when they heard that the Prince of
Conti,
whom they lov'd so dearly had gain'd his Cause; yet
Madame de Nemours
appealed to the
Grand Chambre,
where she is still prosecuting it; but no body doubts, but that the Sentence which was pronounced, will be confirmed by a Decree. Some time before this Sentence was pronounced,
Madame de Nemours
acted her part very dexterously, and like a Lady of good Conduct: She knew, that she had a strong Party to deal with, in her Law-suit; and therefore, as her Brother's Heiress, she had given the Principality of
Neufchatel
to the
Chevalier de Soissons,
a Bastard Son of the late Count
de Soissons,
who was a Prince of the Blood, and her Uncle: For she was the Daughter of one of his Sisters; who was married to the Duke
de Longueville
her Father, and after whose Death, he married the Prince of
Condee
's Sister. Now, when she gave this Principality to this
Chevalier,
she had obliged him to marry the Marshal
de Luxenbourg
's Daughter; hoping that the need the Kingdom had of the Services of so great a Captain, in so formidable a War, as it had to maintain against so many Enemies, would give her an Interest with the King, sufficient to balance the Prince of
Conti
's. But this Marshal died to his Daughter's great Loss, before that the Sentence which I have given an account of, was pronounced; So that the Hopes vanished, which
Madame de Nemours
had comforted herself with, when she contrived that Marriage. Though it must be confessed, she took very good measures to bring about her Designs. But there was something in it, that was still worse for the
Chevalier de Soissons;
for he had resigned a good Abbacy that he might marry a Lady, who was neither rich nor handsome, and he had also taken the Title of Prince of
Neuf
hatel,
when he was upon the point of losing the Principality.
Though the gaining of this Cause, was for the Prince of
Conti
's Advantage, yet it was nothing in comparison of the Crown of
Poland;
which perhaps the King had obliged him to think of, more than he would have done, had he followed his own Inclinations: For he was become passionately in love with a Lady of great Quality; Insomuch, that tho' a Crown be so considerable, as that it deserves to be preferred to all other things; yet he seem'd not to to be too much concerned with it, lest he should have been obliged to quit his Mistress. But it was quite otherwise with
Madame
the Princess of
Conti;
the thing in the World she wished most was, that her Husband might be a King: Ambition, which is natural to Persons of her Rank and Quality, made her passionately desirous of this; but besides, she hoped, that the Crown of
Poland
would take off her Husband, from the Affection he had for the other Lady; which yet she durst not complain of, for fear of displeasing him, and for some other Reasons that must not be published. However, this Design for the Crown of
Poland,
met with great Opposition, and as the House of
Austria,
was mindful of its own Concerns in the present Juncture of the Affairs of
Europe,
that it might by all means procure that Crown to one, who would closely adhere to its Interests. So the Prince of
Conti,
was not the only Person, that was in Competition for it, with Prince
James.
Prince
Lewis
of
Baden,
General of the Imperial Forces, and whose Merits were not much short of his own, was also one of the Competitors; and King
William
seemed to favour his Pretentions against Prince
James;
but this was only a sort of Phantome, which was brought forth upon the Theatre, to frighten the Actors, while his Imperial Majesty had resolved under-hand in his Cabinet-council, to cause the Elector of
Saxony
to be chosen, who for some Years past, had been closely in his Interests, and commanded his Forces in
Hungary,
This Elector was a man of true Courage, as well as the Prince of
Conti
and Prince
Lewis
of
Baden;
so that the
Polanders
could not refuse him upon that Score: For they are People, who will not have a King, but one that is capable both by Courage and Conduct, to head their Armies in Person, when it comes to fighting. But the great difficulty that they had to remove was, that he was a
Lutheran;
and this seem'd a very great one, because among the many Laws, that the
Polanders
have made, for the Government of their Kingdom, they have established this, for an unalterable one; that no Man shall be chosen King of
Poland,
but he who is of the
Roman
Communion. And therefore, when the Emperor communicated his Designs to the Elector of
Saxony,
of advancing him to the Throne of that Kingdom; he insinuated to him at the same time, that there was a necessity for him to change his Religion: At last, whether it was that he had but little Religion, as ordinarily the Great Men of the World have but a small share of it, or if it may be imputed to any other cause, I do not know; but he not only agreed to do what was desired of him, but he also abjured it privately, before the Bishop of
Javarin;
yet he did not this, till he saw, that there was a Party in
Poland
formed for him, which was capable to put the Crown on his Head: The Designs of this Party were kept so secret, that
Monsieur L' Abbee de Polignac,
had not the least notice of them, but continued to believe, that he had no body to grapple with, but Prince
James,
whom he was not much afraid of, because of his disobliging Conduct: And the People were generally of Opinion, that he would follow his Example in too many things. So that
Monsieur L' Abbee
wrote to the
French
Court, that he hoped in a short time to bring the whole matter to an happy Issue. The Bishop of
Cujavia,
whom the whole House of
Austria
did chiefly rely on, for making its Designs effectual; being afraid that he should not be successful, because all the People had so great an Esteem for the Prince of
Conti,
and especially the Ladies, who all desired him for their King; thought it best to deal craftily in this matter, and to manage it to the best advantage he could for himself, when he found that he was at the Head of a Faction, that at least might make the
French
Embassadour jealous of him, tho' it was not as yet so strong as his own. He caused it to be told him under-hand, that if he desired that he might not cross his Designs, it was in his Power to hinder him from doing it. That he knew he aspired to be a Cardinal, and that he considered, that the only way how he could attain to that Dignity, was by his being successful in his Negotiations for the Prince of
Conti
But if he would renounce all Pretentions in his favour, he would joyn Interests and unite Factions with him, by which means the Crown of
Poland,
would be infallibly secured to that Prince. No good Subject would have refused what this Bishop desired, though perhaps no Man would have yielded to it, but with some Reluctancy. But
Monfieur L'Abbee
scorned to hearken to such a Proposal, and did not so much as communicate it to the
French
Court, but pursued his former Designs; while the Bishop strengthned his Faction, by bringing over into it, the Party that had been for Prince
James;
for his Mother the Queen of
Poland,
was so enraged against the
French,
because they had traversed all her Designs for her Son; that she had rather the
Polanders
should chuse any other Man than the Prince of
Conti;
so little did she remember the Place of her Birth, or that the King of
France
had been so instrumental as he was in the Election of the late King her Husband. Yet among all the Factions that were among the Palatinates, there was one thing in which they all agreed, that what Person soever they should chuse for King, he should purchase their Suffrages with good round Summs of Money; so that the 200000 Crowns, which the Prince of
Conti
had sent into that Country, was but as a drop of Oyl in a grea
Fire; but the King supplied his Indigence, and sent thither at one time and another 4000000 of Crowns. The Elector of
Saxony
borrowed Money with both Hands, from several Princes; that he might satisfie the covetous Desires of the
Polanders;
and King
William
lent him great Sums as well as the Elector of
Brandenburg:
In the mean while, this Prince made some of his Troops march toward the Confines of the Duke of
Saxony
's Dominions, that lie nearest to
Poland;
as if there had been some Difference between them, and the Elector of
Saxony
took Occasion from that to carry his own Troops out of
Hungary,
under pretence to defend his Dominions against the Duke of
Brandenburg.
But all this marching of Troops on both sides, was only that they might join their Forces together in case of need; that is, in case there should be a double Election, as there was great appearance of it; that so the Duke of
Saxony,
might make good his Election by Force of Arms.
While these things were doing, the Prince of
Conti
diverted himself the best way he could, as if he had not in the least been concerned in any Business of Importance. He spoke of buying a House at
Berci,
as the Dukes
de Chaulnes
and
de Gesvres
had done; for each of them had one in that Town: The Duke
d'Elbeuf
who has that in common with many other Persons of Quality, that he does not always speak truth hearing him speak of a particular House, that belonged to one of the Farmers of the King's Revenues, whose Name was—with which he said he was very well pleased; offered immediately to deal effectually with the Landlord, and that the Prince should have a good Bargain on't: And that he might believe, that he could perswade the Farmer to do any thing, he told the Prince, that if he pleas'd to sup in that House to morrow night, he would oblige the Master of the House to provide a Supper for him, and then he should have an Opportunity to see the whole Contrivance, and all the Conveniencies of the House. The Prince of
Conti
was well pleased with the Proposal; and told him that he was engag'd to be with the Dutchess
de Bouillon
at that time; but he would rather disengage himself than miss such an Opportunity: So they made an Appointment at that House, to morrow in the Evening. But while the Prince of
Conti
was at Dinner, the Duke
d'Elbeuf
sent to tell him, that the Appointment could not be kept, because the Landlord, who was not accustomed to entertain Princes of the Blood in his House, was con
ounded with the Thoughts of it: as for himself, he was resolved to take the Advantage of that Disappointment, and that if the Prince was pleased to put off the Appointment till to morrow, he would do himself the honour to entertain him at dinner in the same House, with Seven or Eight of his Friends; such as he should chuse. The Prince of
Conti
said to the Man who brought him this Message, that he thank'd the Duke
d'Elbeuf
for it, and that he accepted of it, and would be timely at the House to morrow, that he might have time to take a full View of it and consider it. He invited the Marquis
de Coastin,
the President
de Mesmes, Monsieur Caumartin,
and some other Persons of Quality, to go along with him; but on the Morrow's morning came another from the Duke to make an Apology, that he could not wait upon him as he had promised, because of some Business of Importance, that had unexpectedly fallen out, and which he was obliged to look after. But there was not so much as one Word of all this true: He did not so much as know the Man to whom the House belonged; he had not given him any Notice of the Appointment, which the Prince and he had made to sup at his House, nor had he any design himself, to entertain him at dinner in the same House; so that there were as many Lies as Words, in all that he had said to him upon that Head. The Prince of
Conti
made a Jest of all this, with his Friends, without troubling himself any more about it. There was one Mr.
Chapelle,
who had been formerly one of the Prince's Domesticks, but at this time a Farmer of the Revenues, hearing one speak of it to Mr.
Caumartin;
went to his old Master and told him, that though he was far below the Duke
d'Elbeuf
's Quality, yet he should acquit himself better of his Promise than he had done, in giving him an Entertainment at that very House, provided the Prince would not take it amiss, that he had presumed to invite him to it. The Prince answered, that he was well satisfied with it, and made a new Appointment with his Friends, to be there to morrow in the Evening, and Mr.
Chapelle
regaled him splendidly. There were at this Entertainment many Persons of Quality, both of Civil and Military Employments; and among the rest there were present those, whom the Prince had invited, when he was to have supped there upon the Duke
d'Elbeuf
's Invitation. They discoursed about a great many things; and as it was impossible they could forget the Duke, so they took occasion to speak of a Visit, that his Mistress had lately paid to the Archbishop of
Paris;
because he had made an Ordinance, wherein this Lady found herself concerned. There were many Persons who had taken advantage of his Predecessors easie Temper, and had obtained leave of him to have Chappels in their own Houses; and under pretence of hearing Mass in these private Chappels, they came so seldom to Church, that they scarcely heard Mass there, at the Four great Festivals of the Year. Now the Archbishop thought it necessary to remedy this Custom, and for that end he suppressed all those Licenses, that his Predecessors had granted; and ordained, that all those who desired to have the Benefit of them for the time to come, should appear before him, that he might examine the reasons upon which the Licenses had been granted. The Dukes Mistress had got one of these Licences, and she paid a visit to the Archbishop, and intreated him to confirm what his predecessor had done. But this Prelat, having heard of her Lewdness and Licentious way of Living, which was so publick, that even her son had made no scruple sometime before to say to the King, when he asked him, if he would be ready in a short time, to go to the Army; that he could not be so soon in a readiness to go thither, because his Mother had been more concerned to get ready the Duke
d'Elbeufs
Equipage, than his. This Prelat I say, who knew all this, and a Thousand other ill things of her; answered her coldly, that those who would wo
ship God acceptably, must fi
st know him, and fear him, and that those who did know him and fear him, would always think their pains well bestowed, when they went to Church where the rest of his s
rvants use to serve and worship him; and without saving any more to her, he refused to Grant her requests. The Prince of
Conti,
and all the Company Commended the Archbishop, for having spoken to her after this manner, for tho it was but a word or two that he had said; yet it was Enough, to make her reflect of her own ill Conduct. The most part of them said also, that the Duke
d'Elbeuf
was much in the wrong, to deal so unkindly as he did, by his own Lady, for the sake of an old antiquated Whore, who had the Impudence sometimes to boast of the fineness of her Complexion, when it was well enough known, that it was Entirely owing to painting; But there were some, who undertook to justify the Duke, though they could not justify this Lady his Mistress. They pleaded in his behalf, that since he had nothing to Live by, or to support his Character, except his Government, he could not be much blamed, for having a Kindness for a Lady, that rewarded him so Liberally as she did; That she was frequently giving him good sums, and therefore he dispensed with her age. That there were several others who would do the same thing, if they were in his circumstances: and in a word it was an ordinary thing among the young Beaus of the Court.
This was not the only Lady whom they had put on the foot of paying them well. In the mean time, it had been always the fate of King
Charles
the 2d. who had been mightily in love with this Lady, to have Mistresses who fought only to enrich themselves at his expence, and with his spoils to enrich others before his face. Another Dutchess, whom this Prince had Lov'd, before this, had used him the very same way as this did, and the
Chevalier de Chalillon,
who is known at present in the world, under the name of Marquis, had continued to render her good service as long as she had wherewithal to recompence him; and she thought she employ'd her Money very well, because he was handsome and very well shap'd, and besides, he was always ready when she had a Mind for him. For she was a woman that gave no quarter to her Lovers, and pay'd them only in proportion to their services. She had learn'd from a Lady that was her friend, and who had Learned it herself from an old
Countess de Vertus,
that things ought to be done in this manner, and at least that this was the practise of the old Countess her self, who passed amongst the women of her time for the Cunningest that was among them all. The world indeed had accus'd her of weakness of judgment, but they had done her the greatest injustice that can be done to a Woman; since so far from being a Fool as was Pretended, she had made it appear by one of the Principal Actions of her Life, that never any Lady had better understanding: for being grown old, and yet the prick of the flesh continuing to torment her, she took the Method that any honest Woman ought to take, which was, to find out a Husband for herself, tho she was quite decrepid. In the mean time, knowing by the experience that she had of the world, that she might come to be deceiv'd, unless she took all the precaution that prudence could possibly suggest, she did two things which shew the greatness of her Judgment. One was, to cast her Eyes on a Man whose figure promised fairly; The other was, to make a bargain with him, to oblige him to his good behaviour. This Man was the
Chevalier de la Porte,
who after the same manner as the
Chevalier de Châtillon
is now from
Chevalier
come to be a
Comte.
He was of a good Family, and tho he was not come of the Dukes of
Br
tagne,
as her first Husband was, yet she could put him in his place, without being accus
d of making a mean Alliance. So being satisfy'd both of his Person and of his Birth, the Question was only how to secure herself against the disgusts, which a Husband usually takes, especially when interest has oblig'd him to take the burthen of an old Carcass, which he never marries but in the view and hope of being quickly rid of it. A Woman of so much knowledg and Experience was not easily to be deceiv'd, and behold too, what Measures she took to avoid it. After she had express'd the tender Sentiments she had for him, by which he reckon'd himself extremely Honored, because he had nothing, and she was very Rich, then she shewed him a strong box, in which there was Fifty Thousand Crowns of ready Money. Having opened it too, that he might be the more fully assured of what was in it, and having let him look on it as long as was enough to make him in love with it, she told him, that here was, what she intended to give him, on Condition that when he was her Husband he should use her kindly. The
Chevalier de la Porte,
who knew as well as any Man alive, how to make Promises; swore to her, Mountains and wonders, to perswade her, that if ever she did him that favour, he had rather dye a Thousand Deaths, than ever to be guilty of Ingratitude. It seems he thought she would trust to his Swearing. But the Countess retaining still her former sentiments, told him, that tho' she believed him a Man of Honour and in that Quality that he would keep his word to her, nevertheless that she would take such Precautions with him, that she should have no reason ever to repent of; that a Husband very often laught at the Promises which he made to his Wife; that she had no Mind to be disappointed, and therefore had resolved to tell him once for all, that if he would have her 50 Thousand Crowns, he must merit them by using her obligingly; that the best thing a Husband can do to a Wife is to caress her frequently; that on her part she promised to give him ten
Louis d'ors
for every time he caressed her, and as often and as far as he erred his performances, he might reckon to be payed accordingly. At this rate, if he caressed her but three times a Night, there was thirty
Louis d'ors
sure for him in the Morning, but if he pushed his valor further, he might quickly make the strong Box pass from her Closet into his own. This clause and Condition was not very agreeable to the
Chevalier,
tho on other occasions he had been often at work, without being so well Rewarded. But having a Passion for this Money, he consented to gain it with the sweat of his Brow. The Lady married him privately, and keeping her word to him every Morning in Proportion to his services, he had quickly emptied the strong box, if the Lady's Children had not perceived the intrigue betwixt them. They spoke to her of it, as a thing that made the world talk strangely of her conduct, and the Lady, finding herself straitned in this point, told them at last, that they were unjust to suspect her of Lewdness, that she did nothing but what was Lawful for her to do, that she was Married to the
Chevalier,
and that she would lye with him as often as ever she pleased. Her Children knowing that she had ready Money, and that this was the high way to squander it, endeavoured to get the Marrige annulled, on pretext, that her great Age, for she was at least Seventy and two, had made her Incapable to know what she was doing. The Affair being brought before the Judges, the Advocates pleaded on both sides; these for the Children, alledged strongly what they had been told, that the Lady was moap'd and silly, and that the
Chevalier
had surpriz'd and impos'd on her Weakness; but the Advocates on the other side, having utterly run down this Pretext, by producing the Bargain which she had made with the
Chevalier,
and which she had given him fairly in Writing; the Children had certainly lost their Cause, but the Judges would not suffer the
Chevalier,
whose Desire to empty the strong Box, had brought him almost on his last Legs already, to go on to kill himself.
They considered likewise, that the Lady by this means, would ruin her Children; for if this Coffer were once emptied, she would sell all that she had, rather than fail to fill it again, in order to entertain the good Services, which the
Chevalier
had not fail'd to perform very constantly. So the Marriage was annull'd by Decree of Parliament, who nevertheless appointed the
Chevalier
to have 20000 Crowns, for the Reward of his Labour.
The King of
England
's Mistresses us'd him much after the same manner, and made him pay as dear for his Pleasures, as this old Lady paid to the
Chevalier;
especially she to whom this little History was told, and whom the
Marquis de Châtillon
did so drain of her Acquisitions, that she is now as poor and miserable as once she was opulent. As for the other, whom the Duke
d'Elbeuf
frequented, she managed it a little better, though in the mean time she stuck at no Expense or Reward, when he threatned to leave her, and go and push his Fortune elsewhere.
But, let us now pass to some other Subject: We must know then, that she who was Lady of Honour to
Madam la Dutchesse,
being resolved to retire from Court, her Place which is worth 2000 Crowns of Pension
per Ann.
was sought for, by a great many Ladies of Quality; who besides the 2000 Crowns which they had in their View, considered also, that thereby they should have Opportunities to get into His Majesty's Favour; for he desires to have one always about
Madam la Dutchesse,
who will give him an exact Account of all that she does: And it is of for that reason, that he has appointed these sorts of Ladies of Honour, both for her and the other Princesses of the Blood; and that he himself has settled pensions upon them. And he has a politick design in it, for thereby he keeps both them and their Husbands in their Duty, because they know, that they have one in their House, who takes notice of every thing they do; so that they dare not adventure upon any thing that may in the least displease the King. The Marchioness
de la Porte,
whose Husband was once Admiral of a Squadron, and Nephew of the
Comte de la Porte,
whom I spoke of just now, having but a small Estate to live by, thought, that it would be very convenient for her, to have that Post, especially she having been a Widow for several Years. She had several Friends, and among others, the Marquis
d' Angeau,
who has some Interest at Court, and did his utmost to have carried the Place for her. He was once in a fair way to have succeeded in it, but that it was told the King, that this Lady was not of sufficient Quality for so honourable an Employment; yet no body adventured to speak any thing against her Conduct, for though she be no great Beauty, yet she is of so great Virtue, that she's as much esteemed, as those who are much more beautiful: And the late
Monsieur de Croissy,
was once afraid, that his Son, who is now Secretary of State, should be so taken with this Lady's true Merit, as to make a secret Marriage with her; and therefore he sent him into
Italy,
where he made him stay some Years, and did not recal him, till he thought it probable, that his long Absence had cured him of the Wounds, which his Converse with her had given him.
But her Enemies made use of another Argument against her; to which, had she got but a fair hearing, she could have so satisfied the King, that no doubt she would have obtained her Desire. But they imposed upon His Majesty, and told him, that there were Two Families of
la Porte
in
France;
that the one of them was a good Family, and the other was naught, that she was of the last, and
Monsieur de Mazarine
was of the first, and if he should prefer her to be Lady of Honour to
Madame la Dutchesse,
People of the lowest Rank might pretend to Advancement, as well as she. And by this means, they prevailed so far, as that she was excluded, and the Marchioness
de l' Angle,
was preferred to that Place. Though in the mean time, she could have justly pleaded, that her Husband was of as good a Family as the Marquis
de la Porte,
for the
Marquis
was of
la Porte de Vesins,
and Monsieur
de Mazarin
was of another
la Porte.
At least this was said when the Mareshal
de la Milleray,
who was the Marquis's Father, had made his Fortune under the Ministry of Cardinal
Richelien,
with whom he was first Cousins. It is true, there were some who then alledged, that his Father the Advocate
la Porte,
was not descended of the Family
de la Porte de Vessins,
though he pretended to be of it; and the Marquis
de Vesins
was not well pleased with his Pretences, insomuch, that he would have challenged him for taking the Coat of Arms, that belongs to his Family, but that he was so afraid of the Cardinal's Greatness, that he spoke nothing of it, unless it was to some particular Friends, to whom he would sometimes say, by way of Jest, that those who advised him to enter into a Law-suit, with the Mareshal upon that account, gave him bad Counsel; that he did not see how it could be pretended, that the Mareshal had done him any Dishonour, by entring himself a Descendant of his Family, that on the contrary, he look'd upon it, as an evidence that the Mareshal considered his Family, as better than many others, for which he was much obliged to him.
This was not the first time, the King had been imposed upon, on such Occasions. The late Marquis
de Renel,
had some Enemies at Court, who insinuated to His Majesty, that he was but of a very late Family, so, that though he was a Person of great Merit, yet the King who has great Considerations for Birth, look'd upon him, as one of those, whom he ought not to advance so soon as others; for there are People, of certain Names and Ranks, who have some Right to hope, that they shall not languish so long as others do, in the meer Expectation of the Favours, which his Majesty uses to bestow upon his Subjects. However, this Marquis having a great Desire to be Lieutenant General of the King's Armies, and thinking, that he ought to have been preferred sooner, he took occasion to speak of it one day to the King, and fairly represented to him, what good Services he had done him. The King gave him a favourable Hearing, as he always uses to do to those, who address to him, though few of them have the Honour to be known to him. But when his Majesty was pleased to answer him, the Marquis was surprised to hear him say, that he was in the wrong to be so impatient, and that he believed, he had done as much for him, as for any Man of his Rank. That every Man ought to do him so much Justice, as not to think he was forgotten or neglected; though Persons of great Quality were preferred to him. That it was true, that Merit ought to be rewarded, wherever it was found, and that he had always had a special Regard to it, ever since he had governed by himself, but that there were certain Families, which he thought fit to prefer to others, for they had been always in possession of the most honourable Offices, and the highest Preferments, both at Court, and in the Army; and that he could not without Injustice, deprive their Children of them, unless he found that they had degenerated from the Virtue of their Ancestors. The
Marquis
soon perceived by this Discourse, that his Majesty had been possessed with a mean opinion of his Birth: But he was so far from cont adicting what his Majesty had said, in favour of those who had been of honourable Families, that he told him, it was for that very reason, that he thought himself neglected, that though he was not a Duke and Peer, or had not so much as any Office of the Crown, yet he was of as good a Family, as the most part of those, who had been advanced to higher Posts: That his Ancestors had had the Honour to do good Services, to his Majesty's Royal Ancestors, and that so long as he followed their Example, he did not see, why he was not capable of any of those Offices, that are designed for Persons of the best Quality. If the
Marquis
was surprised at His Majesty's Discourse, the King was no less surprised at his. He had always thought, that the
Marquis
was one of those upstart
Marquises,
of whom there are so many at
Paris,
and especially of Citizens, who take upon them this Title, though the Foundations of it were laid only in their Fathers Coffers, or in some Offices of the Gown, which some of their Family has enjoyed. And being desirous to be fully informed in this matter, he asked him, if it was not true, that had been told him, that he was only
de la Noblesse Bourgeoise, i. e.
one who derived his Pedigree, only from rich Citizens, or from those who had enjoyed Offices of the Long Robe, as was said of the late Archbishop o
Paris.
When I speak after this manner, it is in Imitation of the Bishop of
Noyon.
For that Prel
te, who is the Glory of Prelates, yet not in the
in which he ought to be it▪ but only, beca
e he thinks, that no Man is comparable to him, for the Quality of his Ancestors: and speaking one day of the Family of that Archbishop, he said, that it could not be called an Honourable Family, but only one of the best of those Families, that have been raised by Lawyers, or that had made a Figure among the Citizens of
Paris.
What he said was true upon the matter, for there is a great difference between a Family that is truly honourable, and such a Family as he was speaking of; but sometimes, all the Truth should not be told, especially if there is a great man who may take it amiss: for some days after the Chief President of the Parliament, who is descended of the same Family, that the late Archbishop was of, made the Bishop of
Noyon
sensible of his Folly. The Bishop being come to dine with him, and his Coachman having carried home his Coach Horses, resolving to return with them in the Afternoon; the Chief President, who had been informed of what he had said of his Family, and who is seldom upon the Reserve with any man, especially, if he have any Quarrel against him, no sooner saw him, but he gave orders to the Steward of his House, not to serve up dinner, till he was gone. The Bishop staid till the ordinary time of Dinner was past, and long'd for it, but seeing no appearance of it, he asked the President if that was one of his Fasting Days, he told him plainly, that it was not, but that he had given Orders, that no Dinner should be served up, till he was gone, because it would be too great Presumption in him, and a Token that he had forgotten the meanness of his Birth, which was but of the
Noblesse Burgeoise,
if he should offer to entertain at his Table, so great a
Seig
e
r,
and one of such an illustrious Descent, as he was of; to this he added some other Words to the same Purpose; and the Bishop was puzzled what to say to him; but after some dull Apologies, he was forced to go home and dine at his own House; yet he would fain have staid dinner with the President, because his Coach Horses were not there; but the President chose to let him have the use of his Coach, rather than he should have staid dinner at his House. But to return to the Marquis
de Renel,
he said to the King, that he knew no such thing in his Family, as
la Noblesse Burgeoise;
that every one of his Ancestors, wore a Sword by his Side, and if there were any of the Family that had not done it, it was because he was consecrated to the Church, as was the Cardinal
d' Amboise,
who had the Honour, to be the first Minister of the Crown. When he spoke of this Cardinal, the King perceived, that he had been imposed upon, by those who had made him believe, that the Marquis was but of a late Family, and of mean Extract. So that, afterwards he did him Justice, and gave him what he had asked.
The Duke
de Choiseul,
who had discorded with his Lady, was reconciled to her, after his Return from
Savoy.
She could hardly be prevailed with to live with her Husband, and though she was fully as much to blame, as he was, for the Breach that was betwixt them; yet she pretended, that it was not safe for her to live with him. But the King told her, that she had but one of two Things to chuse, either to cohabit with her Husband, or to go into a Nunnery. The very Thoughts of a Nunnery, is enough to fright a Lady, especially, when she has any Inclinations to be a
Coquette,
so that the very speaking of it, was enough to oblige her, to obey his Majesty's Commands. But the King's Care extended farther than to those Ladies, who did not live as they ought to do with their Husbands, he took care also, to curb the Extravagancies of many others, even though they did not belong to the Court, and being informed, that
Monsieur l' Abbee Lionne,
the Son of the late
Monsieur Lionne,
Minister and Secretary of State, and who enjoyed the Abbacy of
Marmoutier,
with a great many other rich Benefices, did not behave himself so well, as his Character obliged him to do, he sent him a Letter
de Cachett,
ordering him to retire into a Seminary. He also appointed one to stay with him, and to take care, that when any Benefices, that were at his Gift, became vacant, he should neither diminish the Revenues of them, nor bestow them upon unworthy Persons.
Monsieur l' Abbee Roullier,
whose Father had made so great an Estate by the Post Office, that he settled all his Children, as if they had been Persons of some Quality, was also sent to the Seminary of
Notre Dame de Vertus,
with an Order to those that had the Inspection of him, that they should not allow him to correspond with any Person, and that they shou'd oblige him to do Pennance; for all this was necessary, to reduce him to a right sense of his Duty, seeing he had become a Rake, and led such a profligate Life, that he equally disgraced the Character of an
Abbee,
with which he had been honoured, and that of a Magistrate, with which he was also cloathed; for he was Counsellor Clerk of the Parliament of
Paris:
But he had so little Regard to what became the Dignity of those two Places, that there was not a greater
Debauche
in all the City. But notwithstanding all the Care his Majesty took, to repress Immoralities, and to oblige all Persons, to live suitably to their Characters; yet the Generality of them, were so far from answering that Design, that there were greater Abuses committed than ever. For where there was one, that was thereby prevailed upon, to abandon his former vices, there were Thousands, who thought it enough, if they were so far Hypocrites, as to please his Majesty by an outward Appearance: so that Hypocrisie began then to come in fashion, and there were never so many
Tartuffes,
or Hypocritical Puritans, as began to appear at that time, among People of all Ranks, especially, among the Courtiers, though one would think, that such a Character, did less become them than any others. For it seems to be peculiar to the Court, that though Dissimulation may be Learned there, better than in any other Place, yet it is a diffimulation of a quite other kind, than what I am now speaking of. For when a Courtier dissembles, he does it, that he may procure to himself as many Pleasures and Conveniences, as he can, and to shun Troubles and Inconveniences, and not to be his own Tormentor and Executioner, as the Hypocrites; who makes himself miserable in this world as well as the next, so that it is an ordinary saying, that an
Hypocrite is tho Devils Martyr.
Those who had new Opinions to Publish, could not have found a time more Convenient for their Purpose, than this was. There was a certain sect which had lain hid under the Ashes, ever since
Molinos
had Adventured to broach his wild sentiments at
Rome,
and it began now to appear again at
Versailles.
The Archbishop of
Cambray,
who was
Preceptor
to the young Princes of
France,
and had the reputation of a very devout Man, declared himself zealous for this Sect: Those who were of it did teach by a subtil kind of reasoning, tho' to speak the truth they did not avow it plainly, that the Body might do all sorts of wickedness while in the mean time, the Soul might be altogether Innocent and unconcerned, as to what the Body did, for if the Intention of the Soul was directed to God and for his Glory, then it was not in the least to be blamed for the ill that the Body did, which is under a strange captivity to the corruption that is in mans nature. There was one
Madame Guyon,
a Lady of no great Quality, but of so great an Estate, that she had Married her Daughter to the
Comte de Vaul,
Eldest Son of
Monsieur Fouquet,
who had already endeavoured to Propagate this abominable Doctrin, for which reason she had been sent to
Vincennes.
But the Archbishop, of
Cambray
undertaking to defend her Publickly, he Published a Book, in which by an abstract way of Reasoning, which no Body was capable to comprehend, he endeavoured to show, that this Doctrine was not in the least erroneous. He alledged the Writings of
St.
Francis de Sales
to justifie himself, and pretended, that he taught nothing, but what had been formerly taught by that Holy Man. Every Body was astonished at the sight of this Book, and it had never been Printed, if the Author had been obliged to ask a licence for it. But the Bishops have a Privilege to Publish what Books they Please, though their works be not Examined, by those who are Authorised to give Licenses for Printing Books: And this piece was published, before it was known, that he had begun to write it. All the Hypocrites were overjoyed, that a way was found out, for them to gratifie their sensual appetites, while they outwardly appeared vertuous, which they thought themselves obliged to do, lest they should lose the Kings Favour. But they were not suffered long to boast of this Imaginary victory: For as soon as this Book appeared, the Archbishop of
Paris,
The Bishops of
Meaux
and
Chartres,
with many other Prelats declared against it; and the Bishop of
Meaux
began immediately to write a refutation of it; and besides, he joyned with the Archbishop of Paris and the Bishop of
Chartres
(both which had a great Interest at Court) to deal earnestly with his Majesty, that the young Princes, the
Dauphins
Sons, might not be kept any longer, under the Direction of a Prelat, whom they accused of the most horrible Impieties, that had ever appeared in the Church.
The King knew not well what to say to this, because he had always looked upon the Archbishop of
Cambray,
as a Man of good Morals, and of Exemplary Piety. And it must be confessed, that there was never any Prelat appeared more zealous for Gods Glory; for he was so far from having ever given any bad Example, that on the Contrary, he had been very useful for the Edification of those, who saw him or conversed with him. However, the Archbishop of
Paris,
and those other two Bishops, gave his Majesty no rest, till they had obtained what they desired, and what they thought necessary to be done upon such an occasion, and they prevailed with him at last, to order the Archbishop of
Cambray,
to retire to his own Palace, till fa
ther orders. But before he came there, he had occasion to Practise the Doctrin which he had undertaken to defend; it is commonly called Quietism, the meaning of which is, that a Man ought never to be troubled at any thing, that can happen to him: Now the Archbishops Palace had taken fire, by the fault of some Servants whom he kept there, and it had consumed not only all the Buildings, but also all the Furniture of the House, which had been very richly Furnished. Every Body desired to know, how he would take this accident, but he appeared still as firm and unconcerned, as if he had been altogether dis-interrested, Mean while, many Persons of Quality were suspected of the same Errors, that were charged upon him, and among others, the Duke
de B
a
villiers
and his Brother in Law the Duke
de Chevreuse.
The first was Governour to the young Princes of
France,
whose
Preceptor
the Archbishop of
Cambray
had been; and the thoughts of this were uneasie to the King, till he was satisfyed in it by the Duke himself; the King discoursed with him a long time in his Closet upon this Subject, upon which he had likewise a long conference with the Duke
de Chevreuse;
after which it appeared, that his Maiesty was undeceived, both as to the one and the other; yet their Ladies, who had always been of the Number of those, who went to
Marli,
did not go there to often as they had used to do before that time, which made some People believe, that the King Dissembled a little in his Carriage to them. The Archbishop of
Cambray
wrote in his own Vindication, and pretended, that all that he had said in that Book, was true and orthodox, and offered to submit himself to the Court of
Rome,
while the Bishop of
Meaux
accused him of Heresie more than ever. The
Abbee de la Trape,
who had some years before, Renounced the Quality of an
Abbee
that he might compleat his Penance, which he had been long under, in the Quality of a simple Monk, Declared himself also Mr
de Cambrays
Enemy, without waiting till his Holiness should Pronounce any thing concerning his Book, tho this Archbishop had sent it to
Rome,
that he might know his thoughts of it. The
Abbee
wrote two Letters upon this Subject, which the Bishop of
Meaux
caused to be Published, in the beginning of his own Book; he thought by this to strengthen his cause, and that since he had to do with an Archbishop, who was a Man of Learning and had many Friends, he ought not to neglect any thing, that could in the least support him in it. He also sent his Nephew
Monsieur l' Abbee Bossuet
to
Rome,
that he might there employ all his Interest to have the Archbishop condemned; at which, many good People were offended, for they thought, that when a Man acted only through Zeal, it was not fit to create him so much trouble.
Madame Guyon,
who by the Interest her Friends had made for her, was set at Liberty, fell into another Enthusiastick Fit, in favour of this Sect. she propagated it every where, and infected the House of St.
Cir
with it, so that it was found necessary, to put some of the Nuns of that House, into other Convents. In a Word, the King took all the Measures, that Prudence could suggest to him, to crush these Errors, before they should do any harm to the Church. While he was at so much pains to prevent the ill Consequences of this Debate, there were other debates broke out, in the Churches of
Rheims
and
Roan.
The Archbishop of this last City, had made a List of some Books, which he had recommended to those of his Diocese, to be made use of, for resolving cases of Conscience; but had not mentioned any of those Books, which the Jesuits think fittest for that purpose: these good Fathers took this so ill, that some of them appeared in Print against him: the Archbishop accused one of their Number as the Author, he pretended to know his Stile, and demanded of the society of Jesuits, that they would do him Justice in punishing this Author. The Fathers denied that he was the Man, and he denied it himself; and they sent him to
Paris,
that he might withdraw himself from the Effects of the Archbishops anger, who was doing all the mischief he could against him, as well as against all the rest of that Society. He made an exact search after the Printer of the Pamphlet, that had been Published against him, and having kept some of them in Prison for some time, the whole business vanished into smoke for want of evidences. The Schism that broke out in the Church of
Rheims,
was also Occasioned by a debate between the Archbishop and the Jesuits. These had publickly maintained in the Schools of the Colledge which they have in that City, two things that the Bishop was not Pleased with. The first was, That the Doctrine which
Molina
taught, concerning Grace, had been virtuous in all the attacks, that its Enemies had made against it The Archbishop of
Rheims,
who is no
Molinist,
censured these
Theses,
as full of Falshoods, and published an Edict, declaring that they did not contain the true Doctrine of the Church: he therein also censured some other Passages, which they had cited in another
Thesis,
and this Edict being conceived in Terms, that they were very much dissatisfied with, they did much the same, that those of
Roan
had done. They wrote against it, and exposed it. So that the Archbishop, to oblige them to do him Justice, was advised, to cause the Provincial and the Three Rectors of their Houses at
Paris,
to be cited, that they might declare, if this Pamphlet, which had been Printed in that City had been done by their Order, or without their order. The Author had been more circumspect than to put his Name to it, and the Bookseller and Printer had concealed their Names: But the Author had said enough, to let the World know, that he had composed it, by Order of his Superiours; and it was upon that account, that the Archbishop would oblige the Provincial and the Three Rectors, to make their Declaration. After they had met in a Chapter, upon this Business, they were so foolish, as to declare, that the Pamphlet contained nothing, but what was consonant to Truth; and what they were ready to defend, So that having made this Confession, the Archbishop of
Rheims,
gave in his Address to the Parliament, desiring, that Judgment might pass against them, and that they might be obliged to make a publick Reparation of the Injury they had done him, in publishing so scandalous things against him. In this Address he said, that if they pretended, as it seem'd they did, that they had been injured by his Edict; then the Laws and Customs of the Church taught them, that there were but Two ways, by which they could have Redress. The one was, to have made it known to himself, by representing to him, wherein he had injured them: But if they thought, that he would be too partial in his own Cause, and would not retract what he had once done, how unjust soever it might be to them; then the other way was, to have addressed themselves to the Primate. He represents also, that it was not becoming private Men, to expose the Conduct of an Archbishop, by seditious Pamphlets. That such a thing might be of dangerous Consequence, besides, that it was a Breach of Charity. The thing which had given occasion to all this, was capable to have revived the great Dispute concerning Grace, which had made so much noise in the beginning of this Age, and therefore the King thought it necessary to put a stop to this Law-Suit, and told Father
de la Chaise,
that it was his Royal Pleasure, that the Society of Jesuites, should give Satisfaction to the Archbishop of
Rheims;
and having called the Chief President of the Parliament to
Versailles,
that he might give him such Orders, as he judged necessary about this Affair. He took up I know not how much time, in discoursing with him of the best Methods, for putting an end to it. The Jesuites, who had made a foolish Step, in justifying every thing that was in the Pamphlet, were very glad, that the King had fallen upon a way, how they might evite the Shame and Disgrace, which would have infallibly come upon them, if the Parliament had proceeded to pronounce a Sentence. They went to the Chief President, and told him, they were ready to obey the King's Orders; the President told them, he was glad, they were come to a Resolution, that was so much for their Interest, as well as reasonable in it self. He concerted the whole matter with them, that they should draw up a Writing, by which they should acknowledge, that they had taken wrong measures, in not addressing to the Archbishop himself, as they ought to have done; that he might have been pleased to have heard them in their own Vindication; and promising that they should take that method for the future, if ever they should be so unfortunate, as to have occasion to complain of him. And that in this Writing, they should intreat the Archbishop to pardon what was past, and to receive them and their Society again into his favour. The President communicated this Writing to the King, before it was signed, that he might know how his Majesty was satisfied with it. The Archbishop could not demand any more, so that he was content to put an end to the Debate, provided they should sign that Paper. Perhaps they would not haye done it, if the King had not interposed his Authority, but the good learned Fathers, knew better than others did, that Scripture commands us expresly to obey superiour Powers; and therefore it was no hard matter to perswade them to do what the Archbishop had demanded of them.
About the same time that the Archbishop of
Cambray
's Opinions (of which I have already given some Account) made so much Noise, the Princess
d' Harcourt,
was obliged to go to
Normandy,
where her Husband's Estate lies, to look after his private Affairs: She had been long at Court, and had always found a way to preserve her Interest in it, in all the Changes that fell out; though there were many others that were fully of as good sense as she, who were not able to do so much. So soon as she was gone from it, it was reported, that it was partly upon her account, that the Archbishop had been cast out of favour. And many were of opinion, that she was a
Quietist,
and so much the rather, because she retired so often, sometimes into one Convent, sometimes into another. But a Lady, who thought she knew her better than others did, said to those who were speaking of her, that they were mistaken as to that Princess, and that she was not for creating trouble to herself, by an indiscreet Zeal; and that she could be Surety for her, that till the King, as well as his Ministers became
Quietists,
she should not be one: But if they should declare them
elves once in favour of that Party, she would not then promise for her; for never Lady was more inclined than she, to perform exactly what was enjoined by St.
Peter, to obey every Ordinance of Man, whether the King as supreme, or those who are in Authority under him.
Those who were concerned in this Lady, and had been under some fears, that the Reports of her being
Quietist
might be true, were well satisfied with this Account of her. Soon after, she returned from
Normandy,
and was not behind with any Lady at Court, in exclaiming against
Quietism;
and spoke upon all occasions, of no less than Fire and Faggot, for those of that Perswasion.
About this time, the Chief President's Son, was made a Counsellor of State, in the Place of
Monsieur Pussort,
who at last had paid that Tribute, which all men owe to Nature, after he had been Two or Three Years, without being able to go to the Counsel, of which he was Dean. He was Uncle to the late
Monsieur Colbert,
Minister and Secretary of State, and he was as his Right-hand to him, when he was contriving ways and means for enriching the King, at his Subject-Cost. For he had laid down some Maxims of his own, by which he determined always in favour of the Exchequer. And it was never seen, that he had been so much as in one single Instance, prevailed with, even by the strongest Arguments, to determine otherwise. So that in the Council, he got the Name of
Pussort
the
Fiscal.
And when any man was so unhappy, as to have a Law-suit with the King, he had reason to give over his Cause for lost, if it depended upon his Vote. But at last, when he found himself at the point of Death, he began to reflect, that he must give an account of all these things; the Thoughts of them, put him under great fears. His Confessor endeavoured to encourage him, by representing to him the Mercies of God, who pardons all the Sins a man has been guilty of, so soon as he comes to repent of them. The Archbishop of
Roan,
who was his Grand Nephew, and to whom he had left some part of his Estate, as he did to all these, who were within the same degrees of Kindred to him; nay, and to the Marquis
de Seignelai
's Children too, tho' they were farther removed than the rest. I say, the Archbishop spoke much to the same purpose to him, that the Confessor had done. But the poor man was still afraid, that he did it only as thinking thereby to comply with his Humour. And he was the more confirmed in this, when he observed, that the Archbishop, when he had gone into the Withdrawingroom, to bring the
Viaticum,
chided the Parson of St.
Roche,
that he had not caused him to be put in his Bed, instead of exciting him, who was a dying man, to pay that Respect and Veneration to that God, in whose presence he then was. However, in a short time, he was called to give an account of all his Actions, before God's Tribunal; and his Heirs had 500000 Crowns of Estate, which he left them to divide among themselves. And there was not so much as one of them, had any use for his House to dwell in; and therefore they sold it to
Monsieur Bertin,
Treasurer of the casual Revenues, who is a man of the greatest Curiosity of any in
Paris,
in the matter of Houshold Furniture. And as those at Court entertain the King, with accounts of every thing that falls out, so it was told his Majesty, that Mr.
Bertin
had bought the House, and that when he came to dwell in it, it would look quite another thing, than it did while Mr.
Pussort
was alive. They told him also, that he had the finest Carpets in the World, better than any that were in his Majesties Palace. The King had the Curiosity to go and see them, and he ask'd him, how much they had cost him, and where he had bought them. He answered, that he had paid 200 Crowns for the Piece of them, at the Auction of the Marquis
de Segnelai
's Furniture. The King said before all the Court, that that Minister had always dealt so by him, so that when any fine thing, was brought from the
Indies,
he gave him the Refuse, and took all the best to himself. And he added, that he had never known a more vainglorious man, than that Marquis; or one that was so conceited of his own Personage, that his Vanity had made him oftimes fail in point of good Breeding, and in the Respect he ow'd him; for without considering that he was speaking to his King, he would have ask'd him sometimes, if he did not think he was well dress'd, and if he had not a good Air. Mr.
Bertin
finding that the King had a desire for the Carpets, intreated his Majesty to accept of them from him; the King took them, but would not have them in a Gift; but caused him to be paid the Money that he had given for them. There were Three Ladies who had been Friends of Mr.
Pussort,
that expected, he would have considered them in his Will: And for that end, had complied for several Years, with all his Humours; they had every Night entertained him with Diversions suitable to his own Fancy, and he had never given them so much as a Cup of Water for a reward, except Two Meals that he gave them a Year. The one of them was Marchioness
de Merce,
who was his Wife's Niece, and the other Two Persons, I shall not name; but they had fully as great a Desire to have their shares of his Money, as she had. But they were quite frustrated in their Hopes, as well as she. There were a great many who made Interest for his Place of Counsellor of State, as well as for his other Place of Counsellor of the Council of the Royal Revenues, by which he had 18000 Livers of Sallary: But the King gave this last to
Monsieur de Pommere
,
and the other to the Chief President's Son, as I have already said. He had been Attorney General before; but because he had made no great Figure in that Post, his Father addressed to the King, that he would be pleased to bestow this upon him, and frankly told his Majesty, that his reason was, because his Son was not sufficiently qualified for being Attorney General; that when he purchased that Office for him, he believed that he had been capable of discharging it; but he found, he had been in a mistake, and that therefore he would be glad to have him eased of the Honour of that Burthen, which he was not capable to bear. This was thought an odd sort of a Compliment, from such a man as the Chief President of the Parliament: And those who heard of it, ask'd one another, if it was necessary, that a man, that was of the Parliament, should be of greater Parts, than he who is of the Council, where the nicest Affairs of the Kingdom are treated of. For it could not be said, that it was the want of Memory, or the Art of speaking in publick, that made him incapable of the Office of Attorney General; for while
Monsieur Talon
had been in that Post, he had shown a way how to supply those defects; he had always read his Pleadings, and as it was no shame to imitate a man, who as all
France
confessed, had acquitted himself honourably in that Office, therefore they concluded, that certainly his Father knew of something else, that made him incapable of it. However the Father's Merits supplied all the Son's Imperfections; insomuch that the King, not only granted his Request, but another favour also, which he had not ask'd. For he allow'd him to sell the Office of Attorney General to the best Advantage. Upon which, there were a great many offered for it, who were as incapable of it, as the President's Son was; and who had much more Money than Merit. They considered also, that as the Incapacity of his Son, had been the Cause of his being promoted to be a Counsellor of State; so they might at last come to some Promotion for the same reason. Among the rest, there was a Master of Requests, who was the Son of another Master of Requests, and he concluded, that this was the only way, how he could raise himself, to the greatest Offices of the Council. And therefore he offered Money for it, as others did, and believed, that he ought to have been prefer'd to them, because he excell'd them in the Art of pronouncing ill, and stuttering in his Speech; and had lately married a young Girl, which had made him be much considered. But the Chief President, made an ill step in Politicks; for whereas he ought to have chosen one of the meanest Qualifications, that he might thereby let the World see, that his Son was not the only Person, that was incapable of that Em Employment: The Man he bargained with was
Monsieur Joli de Fleuri
whose Father had been Counsellor of the Great Chamber. He got Four Hundred Thousand Franks for it, which was more by 50000 Franks, than is usually given for such an office. Then People began to say of this New Attorney General, that it seemed he had no mind to be Raised to the Office of a Counsellor of State, in that way that the Presidents Son had been Raised to it. For so soon as he was Instal'd in his Office, he made it appear, by his Eloquence and his great Capacity, that he was far above the Ordinary sort of Attorneys.
While these things were a doing among the Lawyers, the Duke
de Lausun,
who has been so tossed by Fortune, ever since he first appeared upon the stage of the World, was very diligent in a Law suit he had against his Ladies family. When he was near Sixty Years of Age, he had Married a Daughter of the Mareshal
de Lorges,
who was not above Sixteen. In which he Play'd the Fool as much as when he put in for the Command of the Army in
Ireland.
For it's Equally ridiculous, for a Man of Sixty to Marry a Girl of Sixteen, and for one that has never had any Command but over his own Domesticks or Day Lobourers, to Command an Army. Yet as good sense would qualifie him for the one much more than for the other, so he managed his Wife in such a way, that he never became one of those Husbands, whose wives make them to be Pointed at in the streets; he gave her as many fine Cloaths as she Pleased, and as much Money as was Needful for her diversions. But it was upon Condition, that she should not keep Company, but with some old Dotards, of whom he was not much affraid. For as to the young Sparks about the Court, she was discharged in any terms to see them, or to admit of any visits from them; For by his own Experience he knew the Frailty of young Ladies. All these Precautions were the more justificable, because if it was in his Power to Secure this young Lady for himself alone, she was well worth all the Pains he would be at in doing it. And he left nothing undone, that was Necessary for that End. The Governess, whom he appointed to wait upon her, was well Advanced in years; she had once been with
Madame de Guise,
and he trusted much to her Virtue, she was as seldom from her as was possible for her to be, and it was a rare thing to see this young Lady without her Guardian. She had great advantages secured to her by her Marriage Contract, without which the Mareshal
de Lorges
would not have given her in Marriage to him. But the Mareshal and his Lady had not given him any portion with her, yet
Fremout,
who had ammassed many Millions of Money, by farming the Kings Revenues, which had been his Imployment almost fifty year, supplied the want of a Portion, for in the Marriage Contract he had Engaged to Leave them a Hundred Thousand Crowns, after his Death, and when he died sometime after, the Duke
de Lausune
was surprised, that his Son
Mr. D'Onneuil
and the Mareshalls Lady who was his Daughter, had renounced all Interest in the Estate, and had brought from
Languedoc,
a Little Girl of Eleven Years of Age, who called herself his Relation, and Pleaded she should be his heiress by the benefit of his Inventory. His Widow had also Renounced, yet before she did it, she had Concurred with his Children, to put the best and most Valuable things out of the way. Upon this the Duke found himself under a Necessity, either to Content himself with any Effects that he found still Remaining of the Inheritance, or to Enter into a Law Suit, against the Widow and her Son. For as to his Father in Law and Mother in Law, he could not ask anything of them; For they had not signed the Grant which his Ladies Grandfather had made, in Prospect of the Marriage. Besides that, they adhered to that Grant, which he had made to themselves, when they were Married together, so that he had not any Reason Imaginable, to sue them at Law. But he su'd the Mother and the Son, and pretended that they had secret Conveyed out of the way, the Effects of the Estate, and, that they ought to be Ordered to pay him an Hundred Thousand Crowns, in Ready Money, without putting him to the pairs of seeking for Payment, out of such Remains of the Estate, as did still appear. But this was not all he Craved of them, For besides this 100000 Crowns, for which,
Fremon
had payed Interest so long as he Lived as of a thing that was already acquired, he had promised them, a Hundred Thousand Franks, out of the whole Estate; but his Widdow and her Son had adjusted matters so, that all that was Remaining of the Estate, after the Debts were Payed, was but at most 100000 Crowns; so that they Designed to have frustrated the Duke of 100000 Franks, besides that they would have left him in hazard, of being called to an Account, by the King and his Ministers, as ordinarly all those are, who Marry the Daughters or Grand Daughters of Farmers of his Majesties Revenues. Unless the Marriage Portion has been Payed in Ready Money. The Duke
de Lausun
who had no great Skill to Dispute his Ground in
Ireland,
chose rather to quit it in time, than to Expose himself to the dangers that Threatned him; if he had Stayed to Dispute it with Sword in hand; thought, he could better understand the Debates of the
Pallais;
and tho' he had no more Served an Apprentiship in this, than he had done, in the war yet he Armed himself with a strong Resolution to plead to the utmost; rather than Do, what Monsieur
d'Onneuil
would have obliged him to. The case was Brought before the
Requetes du Palais
because of the Quality of the Parties who had the Right of
Committimus,
for Mr
D'Omneuil,
was Master of Requests, besides that the Duke was not obliged to appear before any other Court of that kind, unless he had Pleased to do it. He was enraged above what can be Expressed, at the Methods that were taken by
Madame de Fremont
and
Mr. D'Onneuil
in which they had engaged the
Mareshal de Lorges
and his Lady, and therefore he enjoyned the Dutchess, that she should not see either of them: this did very much trouble this Lady as well as her Mother the Mareshals Lady, who Loved her Daughter tenderly, but the Duke told his own Lady, That when he Enjoyned her this, It was not so much for satisfying his own resentment of the Injuries they had done him, as because her Interest was Concern'd in the debate. For he could not expect to Live Long, and after his Death, she could not expect any thing of his Estate, but what was provided to her, by the Marriage Contract, and therefore, It was Necessary, he should use all sorts of Means, for Preserving to her, what she ought to have from him. That if she had nothing, but what they now offered her, the Effects they would give her, would be liable to a Chamber of Justice, whenever it should please the King to erect one, and that they might even make him pay a Tax, by the first Order of Council that should be given in that matter. And that therefore, she ought to make her Mother sensible, that there wa
not any hopes of a Reconciliation with her, unless she should oblige her Brother and
Madame de Fremont
to do him Justice. These words made a great Impression upon the Dutchess mind, and as it is Natural for very Body to desire Riches, even to the Prejudice of a near friend, so she observed her Husband
Commands so Exactly, that she refused to be present at the Ceremony, when one of her Sisters was to put on the Nuns habit, and to Enter into a Convent at
Conflaus,
till her Husband told her, that he was satisfyed, she should go thither.
About this time
Monsieur de Phelypeaux,
the only Son of
Monsieur de Pontehartrain
Minister and Secretary of State Married his Lady. Who was a Daughter of a Sister of his Fathers, who had been Married to the
Counte de Roye
of the Family of
Rochefocant.
He had gone to pay her a Visit, and the Marriage was Concluded, within three Days after. The Bride had but 24000 Livers of Portion, and the King gave her 6000 Livers of Pension, of which she had 4000 before, which the King had granted her, when she Embraced the Roman Communion. For her Father had Dyed a Protestant in England, where he rather chose to End his Days, out of his Countrey, and deprived of the Honours which he might have Expected, upon Account of his Birth and Merits, than to Renounce his Religion. The Countess
de Roye
was also in that Kingdom, and had Carried thither three of her Children, that she might Educate them in their Fathers Religion; while the Rest of them, which were many, chose Rather to Embrace the Roman Religion. this Lady whom Mr.
Phelypeaux
Married, was in a Convent at
Soissons,
when her Marrige was Concluded, And her Relations having sent a Coach for her, and having appointed Changes of fresh Horses by the way, that she might come in all hast, she came to the Countess
de Roucy
Lodgings, who was her Eldest Brothers Lady; Monsieur
de Phelypeaux
pay'd her a visit there that very day, and he returned upon the morrow, and dined with her. The
Chevalier de Roye,
who was this young Ladies Brother, was at dinner with them, and finding that
Monsieur de Phylipeaux
had caused a great many pieces of Clothe of Gold and Silver to be brought to him, that he might chuse what Pleased him best, he said to the Countess
de Rocy
that if she did well, she would take him off a Vest of one of the pieces, of that was sold for 20 Louis
D'Ors
the Ell. Madame de
Roucy
was not over hasty in doing it, and the young Bride, having Chosen what Pleased her best, The Mercer went home, before the Chevalier
de Roye
had his desire. But after he was gone the Chevalier fell a Jesting with Madame
de Roucy
and said it was a mean thing in her to have let the Mercer go away, with the Brocado stufs, before she had done what he desired of her, that it was the least she could have done for the Honour of her Sisters marriage.
Monsieur de Phelipeaux
seemed not to take any Notice of what he said, but so soon as he was gone home, he sent Orders to that Mercer, that the next morning he should wait upon the
Chevalier de Roy,
by the time he had got up, with that piece of Stuff, and that he should let him have as much of it as he desired, the Mercer obeyed his Orders, and made his Compliments to the
Chevalier,
and told him the Commission he had got. The
Chevalier
finding he might take what he pleased of the whole Piece, took not only as much as would be a Vest, but as much more, as would line him a Coat. The Marriage was solemnized within two Days after, and the King gave only 50000 Crowns to
Monsieur de Phelypeaux,
though he used to make a Present of 200000 Franks, to the Son of one of his Ministers of State, upon Occasion of his Marriage. But he told
Monsieur Pontchartrain,
that he was not so liberal as he used to be, and that the then Juncture of Affairs was the Cause of it. For the War forced him against his Will, to be a good Husband of his Money, but that the present Loss should be made up to them another time.
Monsieur Pontchartrain
was a man of too great sense, not to take this Compliment as he ought to do. And being very glad to have a Daughter in Law of so good Quality, he had the Satisfaction to hear every body approve of the choice he had made for his Son. He certainly quite outdid all that the former Ministers of State had done, for raising their Families, and those of whom his Daughter in law was descended, were far more illustrious, than the Families of the
Souvrees,
or the
Alegres,
or the
Matignons,
with whom
Tellier,
and the
Colberts
had marched, and the Family of
Crussol
of which the
Marquis de Barbesieux
's first Lady was a Daughter, was far short of them, though it was honoured with the Title of Duke and Peer of
France.
Next morning after this marriage, there was 500
Loüis d'Ors,
put under the young married Lady's
Toilette.
Which was but a small Sum for a Lady of her Quality, there being ordinarily a greater Present made, to a
Partizans
Daughter. But the Evening before, she had got a Present of a little Box, with a great many fine Toys in it, and she found in the Bottom of it, a little Box full of Ear rings and Jewels.
Every Body went and paid Visits to the new married Couple, and the Dutchess
de Lausun,
having gone to pay her Compliments, she saw her Mothers Lacqueys in the Antichamber, by which she knew, that she was there. And being unwilling to be found in Company with her, least she should ostend her Husband, she went out of the Room, designing to go home, though she had already caused notice to be given, that she was there. This was told to
Madame de Phelypeaux,
and to
Madame de Pontchartrain,
who was then in company with her, and who sent to call back the Dutchess, and went and spoke to her, and brought her into a Closet, and put her in company with her Mother. The Dutchess was once in hopes to have been married to
Monsieur Phelypeaux
and his Mother
Madame de Pontchartrain
would have been extremely glad, that she had been her Daughter in Law: But the Duke
de Lausun,
making his Addresses to her at the same time; the Mareshal
de Lorges,
who knew that the Duke was worth 100000 Livers a Year, loved rather to see his Daughter a Dutchess, than Daughter in Law to a Minister of State. This had made some Misunderstandings for some time, between
Madame de Pontchartrain,
and the Mareshal's Lady, but they were reconciled by this Marriage, and she was the first that told the Dutchess, that she ought to live in a better Correspondence than she did with her Mother. The Mareshal's Lady told her the same, and charged her with Ingratitude, since she knew well enough, how tenderly she
ad always loved her. The Dutchess told her, that if she pleased, she might easily remove the Cause, which she had to complain of her. That she wished for nothing more, than to see her frequently, and to live in good Terms with her, and that it was very unpleasant to her, to be deprived of that Happiness. But she was obliged to obey her Husband, and it was in her Mothers Power, to cause Justice to be done him, and then all difficulties would be removed, that besides, if she loved her, as much as she said she did, she would cause ready money to to be paid to the Duke and her, that what they got might be exempted from those after Enquiries, to which the Estates of Farmers of the Kings Revenues are lyable. The Mareshal's Lady having no Inclination to do any such thing, or perhaps being afraid that the doing it, might discover all the Effects, which had been conveyed out of the way, that her Mother, Brother and herself, might be secured from such an Enquiry, answered her, that she demanded what was impossible for her to grant: That she could not expect more than what she could have out of her Grandfathers Estate, and that to ask more, was a Proof, that she considered her own Interest, rather than what was reasonable. The Dutchess replied, that notwithstanding all she said, yet the Duke her Husband believed, that he did not demand any thing, but what was reasonable, but since she and her Friends were all of another Opinion, and he was positive in his Resolutions, it was not likely they would soon agree, that for herself, she was extremely vexed at it, because she found herself deprived of all that sweet Converse, she might have with her Parents, without any hopes of a Reconciliation, because she knew her Husband to be of such an humour, that it was almost impossible to dissuade him from any thing that he had resolved upon. And he was certainly as headstrong, as a She-Mule, when he had got any thing once in his Head, and instead of being softned, by the Account the Duchess gave him of her Mothers Grief, because she and they were not good Friends, he was more incensed against them, than before. And he not only prosecuted his Law-suit, but petitioned the Council, that he might be allowed to bring it before other Judges, pretending that he having accused
Madame de Fremont
and her Son, for having intermeddled with the Estate of the deceased, they ought to plead their Cause before the Court of
Aides,
and not before the
Requetes du Palais,
by which we may perceive, that while he endeavoured to secure himself, against an Enquiry, he endeavoured to expose his Lady's Grand mother and her Uncle to one. This enraged them more than ever against him, especially because it was their Interest, that the World should not know, that
Monsi
ur Fremont
was so rich, as he truly was when he died. For it is a Crime for those who farm the Revenues, to die so rich, and their Heirs are ordinarily called to account for it. They had a Thousand Instances of this in other People, and though they had not had any, yet they had lately had an In
ance that concerned them nearly, and which no doubt, put them under great Apprehensions.
One who had been a Deputy or Clerk to Mr.
Fremont,
was dissatisfied with him, perhaps because he had n
t considered him in his Will, or it may be, because he had not made any great Fortune, while he was in his Service. However, he came to
Monsr. Pentchartrain,
and informed him, that he knew a certain place, where his deceased Master had hid 4000000
of Money, that he himself had assisted in putting it there; so that he spoke nothing, but what he knew to be certainly true. He was so positive in what he had said, that it was impossible for
.
Pentchartrain
o
to believe him; and therefore, he sent Orders to the Intendant at
Roan,
to go to the place, where this Deputy had told him the Money was hid, which was in a Cellar of a Castle, which
Fremont
had bought in
Normandy.
This Dep
went
nither also, by order of the same Minister, that he might point out the very Place, where it was hid. But when the Intendant had gone thither, and made as exact a Search, as was possible for him, there was nothing found. The Deputy thought to have excused himself, by saying it had been taken away, since the time that he had put it there: But as no Man should think to deal thus by a Minister of State; for they would be every day imposed upon, if those who offered to do it, were not punished for it: He was sent to Prison, and no doubt he deserved it, though he had not been guilty of any thing but of designing to ruin the Family of that Man, by whom he had acquired all the Estate he had; however the Duke
de Laus
n,
pretending that if it was not in that place; that
Madame de Fremont
and her Son, had hid her Husband's and his Father's Treasures; yet as he pleaded before the Council, the Case ought to be referred to the Court of
Aides;
and his reasons were, that it belonged to that Court, to take Cognisance of the Estates of Farmers of the King's Revenues, wherein the King himself was concerned directly or indirectly. That in the Case between
Madame Fremont,
Mr.
Onneuil
and him, the King's Interest was manifestly
oncerned, seeing the Question was, if they had concealed the Effects, that had belonged to a man imployed in the King's Revenues. There was scarce any Person of Note or Interest, whether at Court, or in the City, but solicited the one or for the other Party: And though the Mareshal
de Lorges
and his Lady, seemed not to concern themselves in the Business, in which it was thought, that if they would declare themselves, it would be in favour of their Son in law and their Daughter, rather than for
Madame de Fremont,
and her Son; yet they solicited under-hand for these. They considered, that besides that the Memory of the deceased ought to be dear unto them, not only because he was the Father of the Mareshal's Lady, but because he had been a great Benefactor to them, both before and after their Marriage. They ought therefore, to do all that was in their Power, for saving his Estate from being seized. They thought it was very likely, that though the Stroak could not fall upon themselves, because of the Precautions they had taken, both in their Marriage Contract, and in the Gifts they had afterwards received, yet it might fall upon their Daughter, who instead of having the 100000 Crowns, that
Madame de Frem
nt
and Mr.
d'Onneuil
were willing to pay her, she might be in hazard of losing the whole of it.
These Solicitations and under-hand Dealings, how close soever they were kept, yet came to the Duke's Ears, and enraged him to a greater degree, against his Father in law and Mother in law; so that it was observed of him, that he took as much pains, to obtain what he had desired of the Council, as he did Four or Five Years ago, to shun the Weight of King
William
of
England
's Arm. But all the pains he took, turned at last to his Confusion, for he was cast before the Council, and the only thing that the Chancellor said to him that could please him, because of the Hatred he bore to his Ladie's Grandmother and Uncle, was, that when such People as the deceased had been, did marry their Daughters or Grandaughters to Persons of Quality, it was the first Step they made, to restore to the Publick, what they had robb'd it of, but by the good leave of that Magistrate, I do not think, that the Name of Restitution, agrees well to such an Action as that. For to restore a thing, is to give it back, after it has been taken, and to give it back to the rightful Owner too; but for a Man to loaden his Children or Grandchildren with Money, and by great Wealth to purchase to them a Blood that cannot mix with theirs, without some sort of Shame, and then to call this Restitution, was an odd way of speaking; and it is the first time I ever heard it call'd so. The Duke
de Lau
un,
being cast by the Council, and the Case remitted back to the
Requêtes du Palais,
their Friends offer'd to mediate for an Agreement between them. They perswaded the Duke, as well as
Madame de Fremont
and her Son, to submit the Cause, to the Arbitration of Two Counsellors of State; and having chosen
Monsieur de la Reine,
and
Monsieur de Ribe
re,
they told the Duke, that these Two Magistrates, being great Lovers of Justice, would give him as much satisfaction, as the
Requêtes du Palais
would do, provided he had a just Cause. But having got private Intelligence, that he could not expect great satisfaction from these Two Counsellors of State, and that they had said, that they did not think, that the Widow or Children of a
Donor,
could be obliged to pay ready money, when the Deceased had not left any, he became so suspicious of them, that he recalled a Blank he had signed, with an Obligation to acknowledge them for Judges. And would prosecute the Matter in all the Forms, before the
Requetes du Palais,
who laugh'd at his Pretensions, and a merced him in the Expences of the Suit.
If
Fre
ont
's pretended hidden Treasure mde
a great noise, and made many People say, that there was never a Par
isan,
i. e.
one that Farms the King's Revenues saved, since he, who had robb'd the People of so much money by his Extortions; had not been at pains to restore any part of what he had robbed; yet there was one of them, that gave some grounds to think, that there are some People of that Employment, who sometimes think of their own Salvation. But I do not know, if it be enough for a man to think upon it, only as he did; for I think if a man be as much concerned in it, as he ought to be, he must join Effects and Deeds to his Thoughts, whatever may be the Result of them. However, this Business made as great noise, as the pretended hidden Treasure did, of which I gave just now an Account. One of these Farmers of the Revenues, (whose Name I have forgot) died, and left Two Children, behind him, who did not live in great Friendship together; which happens often betwixt Brothers. The Father had in his Will considered the one, much more than the other; with which this last was very ill pleased, and resolved to make his Brother uneasie, and threatned to tell Mr.
Fonchartrain,
of their deceased Father's Management; unless he would let him have an equal share in the Estate. I know not if he was such a Fool to do what he threatned, or if one who had been his Father's Clerk, had done as Mr.
Fremont
's Clerk did. But
Mr. Ponchartrain,
being informed soon after their Father's Death, that there was something found among his Papers, that might turn to the King's Advantage; he sent a Commissary from
Paris,
to seal up all the Papers, which he had in the place where he died. It was within the Generality of
Alencon;
and Mr.
de Pommereu
's Son, who was Intendant of it, receiving Orders to be present, when the Cabinets, Coffers
&c.
were to be sealed; the whole Business was done, with all the Precautions, that could possibly be taken, in a matter, wherein they were afraid to be cheated. And the Intendant left a Garrison to continue there, till the Seals should be taken off. This Business frightned all the
Partisans,
who were afraid, their Children and Goods might be used the same way after their Deaths. But because in the time of so burthensome a War, the Court had often need of them, it was not thought convenient to discourage them, and therefore a Report was spread among the People, that the reason why the Papers
&c.
of the deceased were sealed up, was because he had made a Will in favour of the King. When they had observed all the Forms that were usual on such Occasions, so that there was no reason could be given for any farther delay, the Intendant returned from
Alencon,
to assist at the opening of the Seals, which was done with all the usual Formalities, and in the Inventory of the Papers which had been left by the Deceased; it was found there were Two Papers, by which the Partisan had declared, that God had given him Grace to examine his Conscience, and that he would not adventure to go into the other World, without restoring what he had taken wrongfully. In the first of these Papers, which clearly appeared to have been first done, tho' it was neither dated or signed; he said, that he had by indirect and unjust methods, gain'd 100000 Crowns, during the time he had been concerned in the Revenues, so that it was his Will, that his Heirs might restore that Sum to the King; as for the other Paper, it was found to have been written after the former, for it contained a Declaration, that after a mature and serious Reflection, upon all the Business he had been concerned in, he found that he had made an unjust Acquisition of 400000 Livers; so that it was his Will, that his Children should restore it to his Majesty, out of his Estate. The Intendant sent Copies of the two Papers to Mr.
Pontchartrain,
who in such a matter, would not rely upon his own Judgment, which was, that tho' they were not dated or signed, so that they would not signifie any thing between Two private Persons; yet it might be otherwise, when the King was concerned in them. He therefore consulted all those, whom he thought capable to determine so nice a Question; some were of one opinion, and some of another. Those who were more for the Forms of Law, than for material Justice, did not think that the Heirs of the deceased could be sued in Law; seeing such Papers were not regarded in any Court of Justice. But on the other hand, those who followed the Maxims of Mr.
Pussort
the late Dean of the Council, (who, as I have already said, voted always in the King's favour whether his Majesty was Plaintiff or Defendant) made use of his Authority to prove, that the King had good reason to demand the 400000 Livers mentioned in the last of the Two Papers.
Besides this Authority, which they reckoned upon as a Law, that had taken place in the time of a great Minister, who had reformed the State, and had put the King's Affairs into an excellent Condition; by the prodigious Taxes that had been laid upon the Partisans; they alleged also, that when a man did acknowledge, in a Paper written with his own Hand, that he had unjustly acquired such a Sum of money, that was by a Thousand times a more convincing Proof, than all the other Proofs; that could possibly be had.
Mo
sieur Po
chartr
in
was much of the same opinion, as the truth is, a man can hardly be of another: Yet there are certain Rules of Law, which must be observed, least the Laws themselves, to which they r
late, should be violated: And therefore he spake nothing either for it, or against it, unless that it was to be wished, that all the Partisans, which had been formerly taxed, had done as this man did; since that would have been an established Rule by which the King might have legally demanded, what they had cheated him of. Because of this Expression, it was thought that he was much of
Mr. P
ssort
's mind, as to the Partisans; yet it was an Expression no man could find fault with; for besides, that common sense will not allow a man to accuse himself unjustly, he was obliged to say all this, as suitable to his Office: However, all the Effects of the deceased Farmer of the Revenues were seized, so that, though he who had been the Informer in this matter, had not promised to find out 40000000 as
Mr. de Fre
ont
's Clerk had done, yet the Information was found to be truer. The great need the King had of money at that time to support the War, was the reason, that this Minister thought it not proper, to neglect such a Business: Though to speak the Truth it was so small a matter, in comparison of what was needful to the support of that War, that it was no more capable to do it, than it is for a drop of Water to quench a great Flame.
Though the King had been already necessitated to make a great many Edicts, yet he was still obliged to make new ones; and one among the rest, which gave occasion to a witty Expression of the
Duke de Ferte
's, at least it was reckoned witty, by some little pretenders to Wit; though I confess, I am not of their mind, whether it be that I am but an ill Judg, or that they have been mistaken at that time. This Edict was concerning Coats of Arms belonging to Families. All the People of Quality were striving, who should make the best Projects for bringing in Money to the King; for they knew His Majesty would reward them for it; and most of them had need of some reward, because of the great Expence they were at, in the Army and at Court. The Dutchess of
Roquelaure
was the Author of this Project, and had a good Reward for it, and being come to
Versailles
some days after, with a very rich Petticoat; many of those little Pretenders who were standing round about the Duke
de la Ferte,
who made them sometimes laugh, desired him to take notice of that rich Petticoat, and to admire it. He said that it was no wonder it was rich and fine, seeing it was strew'd and deck'd with all their Scutcheons. This was the witty Expression that was so much talk'd of: Though I thought there was as little Wit in it, if not less, than in another which he had some days after, upon occasion of the King's going to S.
Germain en Laye
to pay a Visit to K.
James
and his Queen. Those who were with the Duke asked him, why the King went so often thither, he said, he did not exactly know what might be his Majesty's Reason, but he guessed, that the General Peace being now upon the point of being concluded; so that K.
James
could not stay any longer in that Kingdom: The King went to acquaint him with the Article of Six Months stay: Every body was perswaded, that seeing by this Peace, the King was to acknowledge King
William
for Rightful King of Great Britain; K.
James
would not stay and see his Ambassadors come to His Majesty's Court, and that therefore he would go to
Rome,
or at least to
Avignon,
to conceal his Misfortunes. But as he has learned by the Exercises of Piety and Devotion, which he has practised these many Years past, to take the saddest events as from the hand of God; so it is now found, that the Duke
de la F
rte,
was out in his guessing, when he thought that this Prince would soon leave S.
Germains.
Yet K.
James
resolved not to let the Peace be concluded, without making the Confederates sensible, that the Alliance they had entered into, with K.
William,
for setting him upon his Throne, might be of dangerous consequence to themselves. He caused a
Manifesto
to be drawn up, and copies of it to be given to all the Ministers of Princes and States, that were concerned in the Conferences at
Reswick.
In this
Manifesto,
he vindicated himself from an Imputation, that his Subjects had charged him with; which was, that he had been always so strictly in the Kings Interests, that he would never enter into any Treaty, with any other Potentates, for reducing his Power which was become formidable to all
Europe.
And the Confederates themselves, who had often endeavoured to gain him, but could never prevail (whether it was that he was really in his Majesty's Interest, or that he thought it was for his own Interest, not to engage in War against him) made also use of the same pret
xt, when they deserted him. For when he sent some of his Servants to their Courts, (after K.
William
was entered into
England
) and desired them, that they would not give any assistance to that Prince, they met with so very cold a reception, that it is impossible to find its Parallel. And the Pope himself did as it were mock at him, so that the Person whom he sent to
Rome,
brought nothing back, but Beads instead of Summs of Money; tho' he informed his H
liness, that the true Reason of his Misfortunes, was, that he had zeal
usly endeavoured to re-establish the Roman Catholick Religion in his Dominions; but how much soever it was the Pope's Interest to have protected him upon that account: Ye
his Holiness had his own share in those fears, which the King's great Power gave to all the other Princes of
Europe;
so that he would not hearken, either to what Religion advised him to, or to what the Ordinary Interest of Popes uses to suggest to them on such occasions. After K.
James
had published his
Manifesto,
he met with the same treatment be had met with before; for tho' he clear'd himself, as well as he could, from the accu
ation I have already mentioned; and endeavoured also to make the Consederates sen
ble, that they might come to fall under as great Misfortunes, as had befallen him, if they should sufter that by the T
eaty of Peace, which was upon the point of being concluded, the Prince of
should be acknowledged King of
England:
Yet they did not think it convenient, to treat him better than they had done before. So that there being no hopes left him, of being restored to his Throne, unless some great Revolution should happen in his Country: He intreated the King, that what Treaty soever he should make with his Enemies, yet he
ight never oblige him, to go to any great distance from his Court. He thought Prudence obliged him to ask this of his Majesty: For he remembred, how after his Father's misfortunes, his Brother and he had been forced to depart out of
F
ance,
where they thought to have found protection.
The End of the First Part.
MEMOIRS Of the Court OF FRANCE, And of the City OF PARIS.
PART II.
K.
James
's Manifesto had no effect. It being the Interest of all the Confederates to keep K.
William
upon the Throne, that he had mounted by the unanimous consent of his People, they took no notice of it. The Plenipotentiaries, at the
Reswick
Treaty, carry'd on the Conferences without any great Concern in his Interest. All that
France
could do on his behalf, was, a secret Article providing for the
een, his Wife's Joynture, to be sign'd at the same time with the Treaty. The insignificancy of this
Manifesto,
appear'd in his most Christian Majesties Declaration to all the Allies; that he own'd K.
William
as the lawful King: Without which Article, he could expect no Accommodation. This accknowledgment did not
uch perplex that Prince, who went upon sure grounds: For in the Articles of Peace propos'd by the King, when his Plenipotentaries offer'd to state that Article, he advis'd 'em to dash it out, because he knew, very well, how to keep up the Dignity confer'd upon him by the Parliament of
England,
with the Succours of his People and Allies: So that this Question was to bear no Figure among those contested by the respective Parties.
In the mean time, the Armies, pursuant to their usual Custom, made preparations for the Field; and the King having re-enforc'd his Troops, with those he had recall'd from
Italy,
would not listen to the Truce that was offer'd to him by the Allies. The Mareshalls
Villeroy,
and
Boufflers,
Commanded the Army in
Flanders,
which was the most considerable. But tho' they succeeded to the command the Duke of
Luxemburg
had before his Death, yet they were far short of succeeding to his Reputation.
Villeroy,
for his first Adventure, suffer'd the Prince of
Vaudemont
to escape, whom he might have entirely defeated: And his carelesness, not to mention his Insufficiency, occasion'd the loss of
Namur Boufflers
having thrown himself into that Place, made so sorry a Defence, that, after his return from that Expedition, L'
Apparat,
who was chief Engineer at the Siege of
Barcelona,
told him to his Face, That if he had been within the Walls of
Namur,
it had either been still in the King's Hands, or else he had cut off a great part of K.
William's
Army. The
Mar
shal
was mightily surpriz'd with this Discourse, which seem'd to charge him either with Cowardice, tho', indeed,
L' Apparat
was mistaken if h
took that for his weak side, or else with want of Experience: for one of these two must needs have occasion'd the loss of that Place: However he reply'd, That his success before
Barcelona
made him take such measures as became him very ill; and that he would make him eat in his words, were it not that he knew he had receiv'd some Blows on the Head, which had turn'd his Brains.
L' Apparat
made Answer, That the Mareshal ought not to apply to himself what he mean'd of another: that he pray'd God to forbid that ever he should censure his Conduct; that he was very sensibIe of the deference and respect that was due to him; that he only mean'd, that Mr.
de Megrigny,
who was employ'd to defend
Namur
in the Quality of
Engineer,
had acted his part so very ill, that he would not stand to affirm that he either wanted Courage, or at least, had forgot himself. By this means,
L' Apparat
clear'd himself: And the
Mareshal
was very well pleas'd to see him throw upon another, what he had apply'd to himself. But Soldiers do not always examine things so nicely; whoever has the General Command, they impute all their good or bad Success to him. The whole Army regretted the loss of their late General. Besides, there was a vast difference between him, and those who fill'd his Post. Mareshal
Villeroy
was puff'd up with a great Opinion of himself, tho', at the same time, he never had done any thing upon which he could ground so much concei
edness. On the contrary, the Soldiers call'd to mind, how contemptuously his Father treated him upon his return from the Siege of
Lisle,
by reason of some Charge laid against him, insomuch, that if he had not, by a desperate turn, retriev'd his Reputation in the Conquest of the County, which happen'd the next Year, he had run the risque of never returning. As for Mareshall
Boufflers,
'tis true, he could not be charg'd with any such thing; for he was so cautious and irresolute, that 'twas manifest he was a stranger to that Presumption, that render'd the other unsupportable. But, after all, this irresolution spoke him diffident of himself; for which reason, the Soldiers said, The Duke of
Luxemburg
read what he had to do in his Hunch; but neither of the present Generals could find any thing in their Heads.
Some Hours before that General's Death, he call'd the Duke of
Montmoran
y,
his Eldest Son, to his Bed-side, and gave him to know, that to make him easy, he behov'd to give him a Promise, which would afford him some Comfort in his Passage to the other World. The Duke of
Montmorancy
promising Obedience to his Commands, the poor dying General buoy'd up with Hopes, told him,
That since he had been long
Marchioness
f
Belle
onds,
be the Fool to Marry her,
on
des
'd he would
, upon
, not to Marry her, when his Eyes were
.
This Lady was the Duke of
Mazarin
's
: Her Father's Devourness occasion'd her being Married to the Marquis of
Bell
fonds;
for the
, his Father, was as devout as the
; but the Ma
quis was not a proper ma
for her:
or he had
i
er the Estate, nor a thousand other things, that a Lady, of her Quality, might have expected in a Husband. However, as Children do not always follow their Father's
oot-steps, so the Marquis was not near so devc
t as the Maresh
ll; upon which account, the Duke of
Mazarin
frequently repented that he had made him his Son-in-Law. At last, after the Marquis had liv'd some time with the Duke's Daughter, he was Kill'd at the head of his Regiment in the Battle of
St
enkerke.
The Government of
Vincennes,
being given by the Duke of
Mazarin
with his Daughter, became vaca
t by the Marquis's Death; so that the Marchioness was but in sorry circumstances for a Lady of Quality: For tho' the King gave that Government to her Son, and the survivorship to the Maresh
ll of
Bell
fonds,
yet the incomes arising to her out of her Husband's Estate, were but very narrow. 'Twas for this reason, that the Duke of
Luxemburg
fear'd his Son's Marrying of her, he being then a Widdower by the Death of his Wife, who was a Daughter of the Duke of
Chevreuse.
The Duke of
Montmorancy,
whom his Father never press d to any thing that was not to his advantage, readily comply'd with his Father's Demands in giving his Promise. Two Days after, the Duke of
Luxemburg
Died, and his Son resolv'd to stand to his Promise, tho' he continued still to visit the Widdow, and even became more in Love with her than before: However having no Issue by his Wife, and being a Person of a great Figure in regard of the Government of
Normandy,
which his Father had procur'd him, he had a mind to Marry again. The Marchioness of
Seignelay
was a proper match for him, both for Estate and Quality. She was very handsome, and her Age bore a suitable proportion to his. But this Lady, being the Widdow of a Minister of State, in whose life-time every body stoop'd to her, stood upon the point of Honour, when she preceiv'd that the Duke's Agents pretended, that she behov'd to give the Duke considerable odds, because she had Children; after which she would never hear of the Proposal agen. She thought, that notwithstanding her Widdow-hood, she was, at any time, as good as the Duke of
Montmorancy,
who had assum'd the Title of
Luxemburg
after his Father's Death; and that it became him to treat with her at even hands. The Duke finding she would not give him any thing, look'd out for a Wife else-where; and having pitch'd upon the only Daughter of the Marquis of
Clerembaut,
who had formerly a place in
Monsieur
's Houshold, Married her a few Days after. She was but fourteen Years of Age, and was very Pretty, tho' she was not a Beauty. Her Mother being the Widdow of Count
du Plessis,
the present D
ke of
Choiseul
's Eldest Brother had Married her Husband for Love; and being acquainted with the Pleasure of the Conjugal State, when Man and Wife live in perfect Union, would needs put her Son-in-Law upon the same Foot with the Marquis of
Clerembaut.
She us'd all manner of perswasives to oblige him to keep Company with no Woman but his Wife. But the D
ke of
Luxemburg
having Married her Daught
r only for his Interest, and having always Lov'd the Marchioness of
Bellefonds,
did not like her Remonstrances. He told her, all the World was not like her Husband; and scarce any body but himself, could confine their Addresses to one Woman. His Mother-in-Law, not discourag'd by this answer, renew'd the attack several times. She would even oblige him never to see his Mistress again: But the Duke would never give her his Promise to that effect; upon which she put the shrew upon him, and treated him, just as if the regulation of his Conduct had been her Province. The Duke did not like her ways: However, to make her sen
sible, that
that
was not the way to win, or break him, he re-doubled his visits to the Marchioness of
Bellefonds.
This put the Old Woman into a Passion. She teaz'd her Son-in-Law so incessantly, that he was oblig'd to tell her, he would either take away his Wife to another House (for they liv'd all together, the Mother-in-Law and her Husband being oblig'd, by the Contract of Marriage, to give them both Lodging and Diet) or else Dine and Sup always abroad. And, indeed, he was as good as his word: But when he saw all his Remonstrances were ineffectual, he began to lye out in the Night: sometimes in the
Bagnio
's, and sometimes in
Luxemburg-House,
which was still furnish'd. But all this was so far from producing the proposed Effect, that his Mother-in-Law grew still more uneasy, and troublesome, insomuch, that he was quickly oblig'd to leave her for good and all.
This Duke had three Brethren, and two Sisters, one of which Married the Prince of
Neuschattel,
as I intimated above; The other was shut up in a Convent, but would willingly have come out if she could. As for the Brethren, one of them was hunch-back'd like his Eather: For which reason, the late Duke of
Luxemburg
design'd him for the Church, pursuant to the common Practice of Persons of Quality, who allot only to God Almighty, what is not fit for the World. The two other Brethren were Count
Luce,
and Chevalier
Luxembourg:
The former being already a Brigadier in the King's Army, and in good repute among the Soldiers, quickly assum'd the Title of Duke of
Chatillon,
upon the Death of the Dutchess of
Mekleburg,
his Aunt, who made him her universal Heir, and, among other things, left him the Dutchy of
Chatillon,
with the Lands of
Marlau,
which brought in better than forty thousand Livres a Year. The King reviv'd that Dukedom in his Favour; for it had lain extinct by the Death of the Duke of
Chatillon,
his Aunts first Husband. This new Duke Married afterwards
Mademoiselle de R
han,
descended of an infamous Branch of the House of
Tremouille;
for the Marquis of
R
han
her Father, and her Grand-Father, as well as the Abbot of
Tremouille,
her Uncle, were Persons that did not deserve such Illustrious Titles. As for Count
Ol
nne,
her Father's Elder Brother, 'tis true, he had more Sense than either her Father, or the Abbot, and did not love Drinking as they did: But, after all, he had never been much known in the World, if his Wife had not made up that Defect; for the care she took in spreading his Reputation, was Crown'd with such admirable success, that there were Generals in the Army who were not so much spoken of as he. However he did one thing that met with a general Approbation from the World, namely his separation from her, as soon as he saw her bestow upon others, what was only his due. But having inur'd himself to her Customs while they liv'd together, he retain'd a Tincture of 'em after her departure. He lov'd to see a great deal of Company in his House, as she did in hers; and a great many met there, and G
m'd every Night. By th
s means, His Majesty, who always discourag'd Impiety, came to be inform'd, that he w
nt beyond many others in a dexterity of Coin-
Oaths. Upon this, His Majesty sent him word,
That if he continued in that course,
e
me to repent it ere long.
This Compl
ent made him wiser than he was before; so that what further Progress he made in his wonted Course, was done Incognito. 'Twas to be wish'd, that the King's Authority could have reform'd his Brethren as soon as himself. Tho' Swearing was not their Crime, yet one would not have taken them for Persons of Quality, unless he had known them. The Chevalier
de Rohan,
and the Abbot
Tremouille,
lodg'd in a scandalous Tippling-House; tho' the last was worth almost ten Thousand Livers a Year, and the first had enough to Live upon. Upon this account, a Gentleman belonging to the Court, to oblige them to recollect themselves, sent 'em a great Pacquet, Counter-sign'd by a Secretary of State, as if it had come from the Court: 'Twas address'd,
To my Cousins, the Abbot
Tremouille,
and Chevalier
Rohan,
at the six Monks Tavern, in
Paris. 'Twas deliver'd to their Landlady, at a time, when they were abroad; and tho' they had not much Sense, yet they understood it to be a ridiculing of their Drunkenness. The name of
Cousin,
in the Subscription, was a Privilege that all their Family formerly enjoy'd, tho', at present, 'tis confin'd to the Eldest: So that if they were not Dukes and Peers, as they are at present, yet the King would always Dignifie them with the Title of My
Cousin,
unless His Majesty pleas'd to take that Prerogative from them, as he has sometimes done to other Families.
For instance, the Counts of
Clermont Lodeve,
whose Posterity the Marquis of
Sessack
pretends, at present, to renew: This Family, I say, in former times, were intitled to the same Privilege; and 'tis only of late, that the King depriv'd 'em of it, and that upon this occasion; The Elder Brother of that Marquis, being order'd to the
Bastile,
by reason of a Blow he gave to the Bishop of
Londeve,
in
Languedock,
was in a quanda
y whether he should obey the Order, or not, because he was not styl'd
Cousin
in the Seal'd Letter that was sent him. However, Count
Olonne,
who was worth almost forty Thousand Livers a Year, having no Children, resolv'd to marry Chevalier
Rohan,
his Brother, in hopes that the Off-spring would not resemble the Father. There being few Ladies of Quality, tho' never so Ordinary and Poor, that would accept of him for a Husband; He fix'd upon one of his own Cousins that had nothing, namely,
Mademoiselle Noirmoutier,
Sister to the Dutchesses of
Brachiane,
and
Lanti:
She was likewise of the
Tremouille
Family, and the Daughter of the Duke of
Noirmoutier,
who had so great a hand in the first
Paris
War. As soon as he open'd the matter to her, she trembled from top to toe, as being acquainted with the Character of her design'd Husband; but his promise of settling his whole Estate upon his Brother, in case the marriage went on, and a great many other things that he represented to her as matter of Comfort, did so tame her, that she presently comply'd. And thus she married the Man in the World, that deserv'd least to be Lov'd; and upon other scores, had so little knowledge of his own Character, that some time after, when some Citizens came to Game at her House,
e of 'em, not knowing the Chevalier, and seeing him offer her a Seat, bid him give her another, because that one did not please her
Mademoiselle Noirmoutier,
who then enjoy'd the Title of Marchioness of
Rohan,
was oblig'd to put up a great many other Affronts. But, Gaming, which she lov'd to the last degree, made amends for every thing; and the Profit she drew from it, compensated the avarice of Count
Olonne,
who having made her Husband his Heir, was so sharp set, that he would give him nothing while he Liv'd. Mr.
Harlei,
Son-in-Law to the present Chancellor, lov'd Gaming as passionately as she, and us'd to game in her House, where he made such a Voyage, that a few such more would have ruin'd him. She, and Madam
Theron,
won twenty Thousand Crowns of him, at one bout; and upon such losses, it being natural to offer some Plea or other for not paying, he did not do as Mr.
Verthamont
did; for instead of paying the Money without any words, in order to stifle the scandal, he gave it out, that he was Cheated. The Chancellor displeas'd with his Conduct, told him, 'Twas a sorry Excuse, and that when the King had catch'd a Man cheating him, he expell'd him the Court; which was a Lesson for others, that it behov'd him to follow. In fine, he gave him twenty Thousand Crowns to be deliver'd to those that won that summ of him. The Marchioness of
Rohan,
had several such little Jobbs, which help'd her out while she waited for Count
Olonne
's Death: At last he Died, as well as her Husband, who left her only one Daughter. Upon this, she resolv'd to breed up her Daughter as a great Heiress, and to enjoy her self. But, as the saying is, Man proposes, and God disposes. Her self was snatch'd away soon after 'em. She was seiz'd with a violent Pain in a very sensible Part; and to appease the unsufferable Pain, and procure her some Rest, she took a Dose of
Opium
that was somewhat stronger than ordinary, immediately after the taking of it, she slept effectualy, but so as never to awake; for next Day she was found Dead in her Bed. 'Twas her Daughter that the Duke of
Chatillon
Married: And tho' she was the Daughter of a Father and Mother that were not very well spoken of, and withal, not so agreeable as her Sister-in-Law, yet she found out the secret of living more happily with her Husband, than the Dutchess of
Luxemburg
did with hers: For that Duke continued still to visit Madam
Bellefonds,
which inrag'd his Mother-in-Law so much, that if she had
had
her Will, she had taken her Daughter from him: But, as there are some Rules in the way of Justice, that one is oblig'd to follow in spite of all that may happen; so it behov'd both she, and her Daughter to be patient.
At the same time, the King gave a Pension of six thousand Live
s to Madam
de Cav
is;
and when he bestow'd the Gift, gave her to know, that he was angry with himself for being so late in gr
ti
ying her; and that she should lose
thing by staying so long, for that the Pre
t he then made her, was but a Pattern of what he design'd to do for the future, both for h
, and h
r Husband. Mr.
de Cavoy
was grand Marshal of the apartments of the King's House, a place that entitled his Predeces
ors to the order of the Holy Ghost. But at the last installment, he had not that Dignity Conferr'd upon him; tho' many others, that had not so much reason to expect it as he, were then invested with it. The reason was said to be this. He appear'd to be too much interess'd in some things, for which he employ'd the Marquis of
S
ign
l
y
's I
terest, being in very good terms with that Minister. For the purpose; the Scene was l
id between him and a Merchant, to whom he promis'd, upon a consideration of Ten Thousand Crow
s, to release a Vessel of his that had been s
iz'd as a true Prize. And in effect, he pro
r'd the Restitution from that Minister, upon whom it depended. But as every Man has En
mies; so those that had an interest in the Confiscation of the Ship, took occasion to acquaint the King, that Mr.
Cavoy,
in consideration of a private Interest, had caus'd a seizure to be restor'd without a valuable Ransome. Up on this, His Majesty revers'd the Decree that the Counsel had given on the Merchant's behalf: So that his Ship and Cargo was confiscated anew, and sold for the King's Benefit. This done, Mr.
de Cavois
was obliged to return the ten Thousand Crowns he had already fingered: And forasmuch as he did not repay it, till he was pressed and urged to it, It came to the King's Ears, for there are always People about Court, that are never a sleep when they have an opportunity of injuring their Neighbour. Besides, a chief reason why they would not forgive
Cavo
s,
was, That there was a misunderstanding between the Marquis
de Louv
is,
and the Marquis
de S
ign
l
;
and the Creatures of the one, hunted only for opportunities of ruining the Creatures of the other, presuming that
ch a Sacrifice would be very agreeable to their
tron. In fine, the Death of the Marquis
de S
ign
l
y,
had, in a manner, Buried Mr.
de Ca
s,
in his Master's Disgrace, when the King
eviv'd him by this his bounteous present. He had bought a House at
Lo
vettienne,
a small Village about a Muske
shot from
Marli.
At this place, his Wi
e, a Native of
Bri
tany,
kept a Dairy, and having made some Butter after the fashion of her own Country, made a Present of it to the King, as an acknowledgement of his late Bounty. His Majesty lik'd the Butter above all things in the World, insomuch, that he desired her to send him some, not only to
Marli,
but to
Versailles,
when he return'd thither.
In the mean time, the Marquis of
Cascaye,
Ambassador from
Portugal,
entertain'd the Publick with a very diverting Scene. He was a very Rich Man, and brought as much Silver Plate to
Paris,
as might have served for twenty Ambassador's Tables. He was a passionate lover of Gaming, especially at
Lansquenet,
which was always in vogue, notwithstanding the efforts of a n
w Lieutenant of the
Police,
to suppress it, who, for that end, went about to several Houses of the City where the Gamesters Assembled. Madam
le Camus Destouches,
having a House in the Arsenal, and being fearless of that Officer's Visits, kept two days in the week for that Game. The Ambassador went thither, and having lost all his Money, began to play upon tick. An Adventurer that play'd at the same place, and lost his Money as well as the Marquis, being out of Humour, happened to say,
'Twas a strange thing to see Men loose their money every day, and yet play upon Credit.
The Gentleman spoke it with reference to some others that distinguished themselves that way, as well as the Ambassador. But the Ambassador applying it to himself, testified his Displeasure by giving him two Blows upon the spot, with all his force: And to entertain him yet better, ordered his Gentleman of the Horse, who always followed him, to give him some Blows with the flat side of his Sword. The Gentleman of the Horse put his Master's Commands in Execution, before the other could put himself in a posture of Defence; so that he was treated at a very handsome rate. Madam
de Frenoi
being present said;
She wonder'd that a Man, especially one of his Character, would give such usage before Ladies, there being several in the Company be sides her self.
This she spoke in a finical way affecting the air of Quality, and that in such words as might make her pass for such. But the Dutchess
de la Ferte,
having a design upon her, either because
de Frenoi
was handsomer than she, or because she was one of the losers; reply'd,
That it did not become a little Cit, like her, to censure the Actions of a Person of the Marquis of
Cascay
's Quality.
The Scene being thus changed, they were so intent upon the new Dispute about
Decorum,
that they forgot what had passed; only the poor Man that was banged, kept a heavy clutter, Swearing and blustring, that he would Die by it, or have satisfaction for the Affront he had received: But whatever was in it, 'tis now almost a Year since the thing happen'd, and I do not find that he has done any thing suitable to his words. As for Madam
de Frenoi,
she was as good a Tongue-pad as the Dutchess, and managed her Point to the advantage. Some days after the Ambassador came again to the Royal Palace, to play at the House of a Lady of another sort of Quality than Madam
Destouches.
The Dutchess of
Ferte
happening to be there, and retaining a resentment of the disagreeable words that Madam
du Frenoi
had uttered upon the account of his Conduct, asked him, if he ordered his Gentleman of the Horse always to follow him; for he was with him then, and, indeed, at all times followed him as close as a shadow does the Body. The Ambassador was about to give her some answer or other; but she interrupted him by setting forth, that there was no body in the Company to beat, so that the Champion would loose his time in staying there: That it was a thing unheard of among Ladies of Quality, such being in that Company, to converse with a Man that at the last meeting, had treated their Sex without Respect or Honour; and, that if such things took in
Portugal,
it was not so in
France,
where the Ladies knew better things. This last Article the Ambassador would not grant to her. He had taken too much pains to learn of the Court and City Ladies how to play at Cards, to quit the Profession so easily. But, as to the first Article, He made Answer,
That since she desired his Gentleman of the Horse should be sent away, it should be done.
The new Quarrel being thus put up, they went to Gaming: In the mean time, the poor Fellow that was Drubb'd, run up and down
Versailles
and
Paris,
in quest of reparation for the A
tront: But his Interest being insignificant in either, He lost his Labour, and put up the Blows He had received.
The Marquis of
Ceaquin
continued still to slight his
ady; and Her Relations, understanding that He went often to the
Opera,
and had a
d
a she Creature retaining to it, ob
His Majesty an Order, Prohibiting all
of Quality, or any others to stand upon
: For 'twas there that several In
were first set on Foot, which were afterwards improved behind the Scenes, and at last finished elsewhere. This unsow'd a great many little Sparks that went thither only to belch out a thousand smutty and rank Stories among these Women, who did not so much as wrap up the foulest Bawdry in clean Linnen: For they were all so very Lewd, that they did not blush to speak themselves such things, the very hearing of which would, at other times, have covered them with Confusion and Disorder.
The Chevalier
de la Hilliere,
Governor of
Ro
ro
Died about this time. He had formerly been a Lieutenant in the Life-Guard. He did not much distinguish himself in his Life-time; and I remember to have read some where or other, That as he walked one day before the King, the point of his Sword having pierc'd through the Scabbard, gave His Majesty a prick in the Leg; upon which the King told him,
He believ'd his Sword never hurt any body before.
I shall not confirm this piece of detraction, of which His Majesty is less capable than another; for whatever occasion Men of Quality may have given him to complain, he never spoke to any of them in disobliging Terms. But 'tis certain, that tho' this Knight was not much talk'd of in his Life-time, yet it was otherwise after his Death. He made a
Will
that many wonder'd at; which was much of the same Nature with that made by the Farmer of the Revenues mentioned in the First Part of this Work: Nay, it was rather more valid; for instead of choosing soft smooth Words, to signify that he had cheated the King, he downright owned himself guilty of
Robbery.
He set forth, in plain terms, that he had Robb'd the King of twenty Thousand Livers, while he was Governor of the Place above-mention'd; and order'd his Heirs to make Restitution of the same, before they appropriated to themselves one Farthing of his Estate. A great many put in for his Government; for there were People enough about Court ready to take the alarm upon any vacancy, who wanted some Subsistence of the King, because they had spent most of what they had in his Service. But Mr.
Bartillac,
Lieurenant General of His Majesty's Forces, had the best luck. He had serv'd a long time without getting any thing; and the King having gratified all the old Officers, would not let him be the only One that could say, He was forgot▪
In the mean time, Marshal
Boufflers
represented to His Majesty, That he was dissatisfied with one of his Lieutenant Generals, not that he was a Coward, and unworthy of his Post, but because he was so Sawcy, that he had all the trouble in the World to make him receive his Orders. The King reply'd, that he ought to discard him, and that would quickly make him easy. This Marshal, who is a younger Brother of the House of
Piccardy,
serv'd first in the Guards in the quality of Aid-Major: After that, his Eldest Brother Marrying Madam
Guenegaut,
the Daughter of Mr.
du Plessis Guenegaut,
Secretary of State, pay'd him down his Portion. Then he bought the Royal Regiment of Dragoons, and began to distinguish himself at the head of it in the Battle of St.
Francis.
Upon this, Mr.
de Turenne,
who study'd to serve all the World, spoke so much of him to the King, that His Majesty had a deep impression of his Character. After that; he serv'd, as the rest did, till
Turenne,
his good Friend, Died. Marshal
Crequi,
who succeeded
Turenne,
in the quality of a General, could not endure
Boufflers
at first, and charg'd him with intermeddling Officiously where he was not desir'd, and very often without knowing well what he said. He drew this check upon himself, by boasting of some intelligence he had receiv'd of the Enemy: For the Marshal being a proud Man, did not like such doings, alledging, That they insinuated an accusation against him, as if he had not taken all the necessary Measures for having as good intelligence as he. Whatever was in it, Mr.
Boufflers,
by his Patience, conquer'd the General's Aversion, and they became such good Friends, that General
Crequi
was the first that confirm'd to His Majesty the Character that
Turenne
had given him of
Boufflers.
And that Marshal having, in the latter part of his Life, retriev'd the eclipse he met with, at
Consardick
Bridge; his Confirmation did
Boufflers
no harm; for the King befriended Mr.
Boufflers,
and having made him a Lieutenant General
after the Peace of
Nimeguen,
rais'd him a
wards to a higher Post. He was already Coll
General of the Dragoons; and the late Duke of
Lesdiguieres,
lent him Money to buy that Post, perhaps, more to disoblige the Marquis of
Louvois,
than to oblige Mr.
Boufflers;
for that Minister design'd the Post for the Chevalier
Tilladet,
his Cousin
German,
tho' all the Army said, he was less worthy of it than the other. Considering his Interest at Court, and Mr.
Boufflers
his incapacity to purchase it, he thought he could not miss the procuring of it to
Tilladet,
especially since
Tilladet
had the most considerable Post next to
Boufflers,
in the Regiment. His design in procuring it to
Tilladet,
was to transfer it afterwards to one of his own Sons; for which reason he was not pleas'd with the Duke of
Lesdiguieres,
for lending the Money: And Mr.
Boufflers
was, for sometime, doubtful, whether the Marquis was his Friend, or his Enemy. But at last, that Minister finding that Mr.
Boufflers
had the King's Ear, and that His Majesty look'd upon him as another
Turenne,
not with reference to his capacity which was, far short of that General's; but by reason of his being dis-interess'd like him, and his inviolable respect for his Person; That Minister, I say, upon these considerations drop'd the spite he had against him, and accordingly did not oppose His Majesty's Bounty to him. He was made Governor of
Luxembourg,
after the King took it; and Marshal
Crequi
Dying some time after, His Majesty bestow'd upon him the Government of
Lorrain,
which was vacant by the Marshal's Death. After that, the War broke out,
he gave him the Command of an Army; tho' he was then but a Lievtenant General; and order'd
Rubantel,
a Lievtenant General, and Lieutenant Collonel of the Regiment of Guards, to receive Orders from him. This disoblig'd
Rubantel
the more, that he had
een Eldest Captain in the Regiment, when the other was but
A
d-Ma
r;
having succeeded to his Brother's Company, who was kill'd in the Siege of
V
len
nnes.
He would have shewn his Resentment before the Judges; but his Interest was not great there, because he had refus'd to marry Madam
S. P
anges,
who was since married to one
Verne
l,
Judge of the Court of Requests: So that they were not troubled at this his Mortifi
ation.
He serv'd under this New General with a great deal of discontent; but he quickly met with a greater Aff
ont; for Mr.
Boufflers
his Interest at Court gr
w so much, that he had not only a blew Ribband, but was made a Marshal of
France,
Governor of the
French Flanders,
and Collonel of the Regiment of Guards. This last piece of Honour conferr'd upon him; disoblig'd
Rubantel
more than any thing else; for being Lieutenant Collonel of that Regiment, he was oblig'd to obey his Orders every Day, whether in Camp, or at Court. Some time after, the King designing a review of that Regiment,
Boufflers
made his review first, in order to remedy all Deficiencies before the King saw them. During this review, Mr.
Rubantel
sate upon Thorns; and as soon as Mr.
Boufflers
gave orders, that the Regiment should file off before him, mounted his Coach, and came to
Paris,
to avo
d the necessity of saluting him with Pike in hand. The Marshal complain'd of this to the King: And this was the Person that
Boufflers
pointed to, when he told the King (as we intimated above) that he was dissatisfied with one of his Lieutenant Generals. His Majesty finding it his Interest to prevent such an occasion of scandal in his Army, in which the measures of Subordination must always be maintain'd, order'd
Rubantel
to be reprimanded by the
Marquis de Barbesieux,
the Son of the
Marquis de Louvois,
who had Died suddenly, and whose place of Secretary of State he had succeeded to. This did not make
Rubantel
the wiser; for upon several other occasions, he display'd an impatience in being subject to the Marshal; upon which the King was so Angry, that he resolv'd to take his Commission from him. His Majesty discover'd part of his mind to the Duke of
Rochefoucaut,
who told him, that tho'
Rubantel
was in the wrong, yet, if his Majesty would be pleas'd to consider the Case, he would find that his Crime, as great as it was, did not deserve so severe a Punishment; that he had been Captain of the Guards Forty Years; and tho' he was bound to give a blind Obedience to whatever Superiour his Majesty plac'd over him, yet considering 'twas natural for a Man not to love to see himself commanded by another that had been long his Inferior, 'twas very possible for him to depart from his Duty. These words soften'd the King's Humour; but his Majesty being oblig'd to put another in his place, by reason of the ill consequences that might ensue upon the failure of an exact Discipline in his Regiments, commanded the Marquis of
Barbesieux,
to order
Rubantel
to resign his Post in Favour of Count
Avejeant,
an old Captain of the Guards, and
Marshal de Camp.
This Count was the Son-in-Law of the late Mr.
Valot,
the King's first Physician; and was at first look'd upon by his Wife's Family, as a person unworthy of their Alliance; for she had a great Estate, and he had scarce any: But the King had a kindness for him, because he was bred up his Page, and chang'd his Religion betimes; and in the progress of time, he, whom they look'd upon as the most scandalous Member of their Family, such as it was, became, not only the Ornament, but the support of the same. The like happen'd before to the Family of
Bourdeaux,
which made almost as sorry a Figure as
Vallot
's. The Eldest Daughter of the Intendant of the
Finances,
a Widdow of a Member of Parliament, being Courtted by Mr.
Sanguin,
the Father of the Marquis of
Livri,
first Steward to the King, inveigh'd so bitterly against him, that she was heard say, He was unworthy of being receiv'd into her Family. But, after all, she was so wise and happy as to Court him, when she saw him in Favour: And if she had not engag'd him in her Interest, she had been at a loss upon several occasions.
To return from this Digression: The
Marquis de Barbesieux,
having deliver'd the King's Commands, told
Rubantel
at the same time,
That his Carriage to Marshal
Boufflers
had so displeas'd the King, that he would never have done any thing for him, if the Marshal had not interceded on his behalf; that upon his Intercession, his Majesty bestowed upon him the Government of
Baratu-Fort,
with a Pension of four Thousand Livers; and that he behov'd to return thanks to the Marshal upon that score. Rubantel,
considering that a great many of his juniors had some of them Governments long before, and others more considerable Posts, was so incens'd upon the Compliment, that he immediately return'd the Marquis this Answer,
That he would rather choose to receive no Fa
ours, than to purchase them at that rate; and that so long as he had the honour to serve his Majesty, he thought he had done his Duty, in such a manner, as to deserve some grants, without needing the recommendation of any one.
This said, he went away without staying for any reply; and the Marquis
Barbesieux
having given the King an account of his Answer; His Majesty said aloud, before all the Court,
That he was not much surpriz'd with his procedure, because he had known him long before to be a Man of that Kidney.
He spoke likewise some other words, which gave
Rubantel
's Friends a jealousie, that he might come to be committed. Thereupon the Duke of
Rochefoucaut,
being touch'd with Pitty towards this unfortunate Man, whose long Service seem'd to deserve a better Fate: This Duke, I say, presum'd to offer to His Majesty all that he thought was capable to appease his Wrath. His Majesty reply'd,
That he would consider all his Remonstrances; but that he had suffer'd so many things from him already, that he wonder'd himself was so late in doing what he had then done; that this was not the first time he had given him occasion to be Angry with him, and that he had met with other instances of his insolence, when he did not seem to take notice of it.
These words displaying still a resentment, the consequences of which were to be fear'd: The Duke of
Rochefoucaut
took the Liberty to make Answer.
That, tho' His Majesty had bore something of ill humour in that Man, yet he would be pleas'd to consider, that he had stood the brunt of many a Musker-Shot in his Service; and for the space of forty Years, the Regiment of Guards was never imploy'd in any Siege, but he appear'd and ha
arded himself as well as any of the Regiment; That himself had seen him Charge again five or six times, when a great many Men were Kill'd; That he had given equal proof of his Valour, in I do not know how many Battels; and had spent so much of his Blood, that the honourable marks he bore in his Body, deserv'd at His Maiesty's Hands a pardon for some escapes of his Tongue.
This Discourse had the desired effect: The King's Anger relented; but things being then at another pass, than in the Reign of Cardinal
Mazarin,
in which Favours were obtain'd by complaining, or pretending to be formidable, for by such means, two, or three Persons got Marshals Staffs, and others were preser'd to Posts of Honour: This time (I say) being of a different stamp from that, insomuch, that the greatest Complaisance and Submission, were necessary means for having Success; the King did not renew the offer either of
Baratu-
Fort, or the Pension. On the contrary, he bestowed that Governor's place upon Mr.
Bac
evilliers,
who had been long forgot, and whatever merit he might have, was like to have continued so all his Life, if he had not luckily been the Marquis of
Montchevreuil
's Sister's Son. Without this Circumstance, His Ma
esty had never heard of him; for he had the misfortune to serve in the former War, either in
Catalonia,
or
Messina:
And 'tis a great misfortune for an Officer of any Ambition, to be so far out of his Master's sight. He continued a great while Lieutenant Collonel of Horse. But, at last, his Uncle being loaded every day with Royal Favours, and
apprehending, that it would be an unhandsome thing not to make his Nephew share in his good Fortune, intreated Madam
Maintenon
to represent his Services to the King. That Lady perform'd his request very willingly; and the King told her frankly,
That if she had not spoken to him, he might have continued a long time without knowing that Officer, that being the first time that ever he heard of his Name.
Thereupon His Majesty made him a Brigadier, without staying till he had a Regiment for him. However the first vacancy was his; and that he was scarce possess'd of, when he was made a
Marshal de Camp,
and soon after, a Lieutenant General; so that no Man was ever observ'd to rise so fast. At last, His Majesty Crown'd all his Favours with a Present of the above mentioned Government, and took his Younger Brother into his Houshould, where he is, at present, an Ensign of the Life-Guards.
Another Officer in the Army was yet more unfortunate than
Rubantel;
for after being imprisoned in the
Bastile,
and losing his Regiment which was worth better than ten thousand Crowns a Year, he had never obtain'd his liberty if the Peace had not been made: This was a Son of the Duke of
Tirconnel
's, by a Lady that he had promis'd marriage to, tho he never perform'd his Promise. His Name was
Talbot,
which was likewise the Duke's Name, and is a Name very famous both in
England,
and in
France,
from whence that House deriv'd its Original. He was a Brigadeer in the Army in
Italy,
and had a Regiment there. He came from that Country to Court, about two or three Years ago, at the time when King
James
pretended to Sail for
England,
upon which King
James
bid
Talbot
follow him; but
Talbot
made Answer,
That tho' he had an
Irish
Regiment, yet being in the Service and Pay of his most Christian Majesty, he could not dispose of his Person without His Majesty
's
leave; and that if he would be so kind as to speak of it to the King, he would be glad to obey his Commands.
I know not whether
Talbot
spoke these words with such an Air as signifyed his unwillingness to go; or whether that Prince took it ill, that one of his Subjects should say,
He could not obey him without his most Christian Majesty's leave.
But, in fine, Kine
James
discover'd by his Countenance, that he had forgot, that
Talbot
was the Son of a Man that had done him great Service; and to this Day, is, by all that know him, esteem'd the most faithful and affectionate to his Prince, of any that we have seen for a long time.
Talbot
perceiv'd this as well as the rest: But whether it was that he did not trouble himself about it, or that Wine which he lov'd too well, had sunk his Judgment; He told that very Day to the
Marquis de Larré,
at a Drinkingmatch, what had pass'd between King
James
and him, adding withall, very imprudently, whether through the influence of Wine, or real Thought,
That he could not imagine what that Prince mean'd to do in
England;
and that he was respected or belov'd by very few; every body almost being perswaded that he was a thousand times fitter for a Convent, than for the Throne.
Next Day, the
Marquis de Larré
visited the
Marquis de Barbesieux,
with whom he was in Favour, and gave him an account of what pass'd between him and
Talbot,
thinking, perhaps, rather to do him Service, than to injure him. For the purpose, he might have in his view to inform that Minister of his inviolable Affection to the King's Service, upon the comparison with K.
James
's. But the Marquis of
Barbesieux
having told the Story to a Lady that he Courted, and she having told it to the Queen of
England;
This Princess sollicited the King to cause
Talbot
to be taken up. Accordingly he was taken up at
Versailles,
and carried to the
Bastile,
believing that a Prince of K.
James
's Devotion, would confine his resentment to a few days Imprisonment. But as devout People are seldom guilty of granting Pardons, or at least, have no great Name for it; so he was quickly made to understand, that K.
James
had a mind to have him broke. The Dutchess of
Tirconnel,
being a Lady of Honour to the Queen of
England,
us'd her endeavours to prevènt the Blow, that was about to reduce that poor Gentleman to the State he was in when he came from his Mother's Belly. For tho' he had serv'd a long time, and had great Incomes, yet he had been so careless a Husband, that he could scarce raise two thousand Crown
upon all he had. Marshal
de Noailles,
who was his Friend, and under whom he had serv'd in
Catalonia,
sollicited the King to avert the misfortune: But His Majesty reply'd,
That it did not lie at his door; and that if the King and Queen of
England
did not desire him to be broke, he was satisfied.
But, at the same time, he justly blam'd him for drawing that Disgrace upon himself; and the Marshal could not excuse it otherwise than upon the score of Wine, which often sinks the Reason of the most sensible Men. Mr.
de Vendôme
interceeded likewise on his behalf: But 'twas all in vain: For K.
James,
and his Queen, made not only his Regiment, but a Pension, that he had, to be taken from him. And thus he had the mortification of seeing himself unplum'd by one stroak of his Tongue of all the Fruit of his Services. And which is yet worse, tho', at present, he is at liberty, I do not know that he has yet obtain'd any thing, tho' I see him every day going from
Paris
to
Versailles,
and from
Versailles
to St.
Germains.
He has been a long time, without obtaining leave of K.
James,
and his Queen, to come and beg their pardon; their Majesties thinking it proper to shew that their Resentment continues still.
Among all this matter of Affliction, especially to
Talbot
and
Rubantel,
as well as their Friends, there happened a new Scene at
Paris,
that may be entertaining to the Publick: The Wife of one that belonged to the Pay-Office, a very Coquette Lady in her way, had one day a mind to ride in her Coach. Her Coach-man having combin'd with some of her Servants to play her a trick, got upon his Coach-box, without dressing his Horses, or cleaning the Coach. The Lady ask'd him what he mean'd by serving a Person of her Quality in that fashion. Her Quality, after all, was not very great; but since Madam
du Fresnoi,
the Wife of a common Citizen's Son, when speaking of her self, took upon her to say,
A Woman of my Quality;
by the same reason, this good Woman might call herself a Lady of Quality; for both her own, and her Husband's Father, were something more than the others. However, the Coach-man gave her no Answer, knowing that nothing provokes a Woman more than not answering her, whether she be in the right, or the wrong. She redoubled her reprimands to make him speak; and finding that he was still mute, attack'd him with threats and hard words: At last the Coach-man, very unconcernedly, answered her,
That she made a great deal of noise for a small matter; and if she would take his advice, she should give over bawling, and make no more words of it.
The Lady inrag'd with such an insolent Answer, redoubled her threats and abusive Language: But the Coach-man having kept the best to the last, told her,
That he wondered that such a one as she should be so ill to please, and that she was too well served for a W—
At that word she was out of all Patience, and called up her Foot-men, who had sheer'd off on purpose to have the more Diversion by the Comedy. They ran up to her all in a heat to know her Pleasure. She ask'd them to act for her in being reveng'd upon that insolent Fellow. The Foot-men pretending to know nothing of the matter; she gave them to know, that he had the impudence to call her W—and that the least they could do was to break his Arms, or Legs: But she was mightily surpriz'd, when, instead of being provok'd, as she expected, they looked down. Then she ask'd them what they mean'd by it? and forc'd them to speak as if it had been against their Wills. Their Answer, which was much more provaking than any thing she had yet heard, was,
That if she wanted only to have her Coach-man beaten, she might go see for other Executioners; that they would not beat or thrash any body without a just Cause; and that they did not take speaking of the Truth to be such.
She reply'd,
That it seemed they took her to be a W—as well as the Coach-man did.
And they Answer'd, very freely,
That they knew her to be such, and were ready to witness it when she pleas'd.
This rais'd her Passion to that degree, that she called upon the rest of her Servants to give her the succour that her Foot-men had refused. The first that appear'd was Mistress Cook, who ask'd her what put her in such a Passion; the Lady had no sooner told her the matter, but she made answer,
That the Coach-man and Foot-men were not much to blame; and that they charg'd her with nothing that was not true.
Then came in the Chamber-maid, who, not being in the Conspiracy with the rest, said,
That 'twas not worth her while to make so many words, and that she would go and call a Commissary to put them all in Prison:
But that word cost her very dear; for as soon as they saw her making ready to go out, they fell upon her, and beat her one after another. The Lady fled to her Chamber for fear they should give her as much: And, at last, the Chamber-maid got clear, and fled likewise to her Chamber. Both of them bolted their doors, and continued there waiting for the Master of the House, in order to complain of the usage they had received. The Coach-man perceiving that his Mistress was mew'd up, took the Horses from the Coach, and curry'd them: And, in a word, did all that was to be done, in order to make it appear upon his Master's return, that his Mistress was in the wrong. But both he, and his accomplices, had us'd another precaution, that was yet better. They had complain'd four days a-go to the Commissary of the Ward, that she would not pay them their Wages; and having, at the same time, given a Summons in order to have her cast in Court, they only stay'd in the House till the Husband came; and before his Wife could speak with him, gave him to know, that they would stay no longer with her, because they could not get a Farthing out of her hands. The Husband would have kept them, but they did not care to stay. After they were all gone, he was surpriz'd with an account of the tricks they had plaid with his Wife. Had he been wise, he would have advis'd her not to speak of the matter to any body, and would have taken the same advice to himself: But as every Man is not as wise as his Affairs require, so he was the fool to go himself and complain of his Servants; and thus was the first that divulged what he ought to have conceal'd: But the Complaint given in by the Servants four days before, made People believe, that whatever he said, was by way of Recrimination. Upon which, his Friends advis'd him to drop the thing, and make no more noise of it. They had much ado to perswade him; for his Wife threw in all the fire she could to disswade him: But at last, his own Reason convinced him, that
that
was his only way, unless he had a mind to make himself to be pointed at as he walked along the Streets.
As this Lady was branded for a
Coquette
by her Servants; so I present you with a story of another, that, indeed, had not that misfortune, but was no less such in her Husband's Opinion. Mr.
Tourville,
before he was made a Marshal of
France,
married the Daughter of a Farmer General; who was the Widdow of the Marquis of
Poplinicre,
the Nephew of the late Madam
Colbert.
'Twas a lucky hit for the Marshal to marry that Lady, especially at the time when it happened; for he was only a younger Brother in
Normandy,
and that of a Family that was in no great Circumstances: But Fortune stood by him, when every body thought he was lost. We must know, that after the Marquis of
Seignelay,
his Protector, was Dead, he was writ to from Court, that then was the time, or never, to shew his mettle; for he had never given proof of it all the time that he was employ'd as a
Marine.
This Reproach serv'd for a Spur that twitched him to the Quick, insomuch, that when he receiv'd Orders to Fight the Enemies Fleet at any rate, he did his Duty; and tho' he was unfortunate in the way of Success; yet he was thereupon prefer'd to that degree, that if he had still been unmarried, he could, perhaps, have desired no more of that Woman. But, whether it was that he began to slight her, or that, he thought, he might keep Company with Misses, without giving her any dissatisfaction; He had a sweet Eye upon one of his Neighbours, that she was as jealous of, as of another. She told him her Sentiments of the thing; and not only took the pains to undeceive him, but made a noise that was very troublesome to the Lady, that she deem'd her for her Rival. I cannot be positive upon the truth of the matter; but 'tis said, that this jealous Lady acquainted the Womans Husband with the Marshal's intimacy with her. 'Tis likewise Reported, that the Husband surprized them in a posture that did not allow him to doubt of the information he had received. Whatever was in it, the Woman was put into a Convent; and the Marshal, either out of the chagrin occasion'd by her confinement, or through the discontent his Lady had given him upon other occasions, sent her out of
Paris
to one of his own Territories. His Plea was, that she would not do something that he
desired of her; and the pretence was the more specious, that it related to his Interest. But the Lady bore her Banishment from Town the more impatiently, that she was eternally galled with jealousie, and return'd to
Paris
without giving him notice. She Lodged in his Apartment, designing to lie so close, that he should know nothing of the matter, till her own Friends, and her first Husband's Relations should have acquainted the King with the injustice done her. The Marshal's Servants seeing her come into his House, gave notice of it to their Master, who, without asking her the reason why she returned without his order, complained of it to the King. At the same time, he desired His Majesty to grant him a Warrant to put her into some Convent, pretending, by that means, to enjoy all her Estate: But His Majesty being informed of several things, would not be so hasty, and desired, in the first place, to know the occasion of their Divorce. The Mareshal indeavour'd, by all means, to cover and perplex the Story, and turned it upon the score of Interest; but the King made Answer,
That Commissioners ought to be appointed to inspect which of them was in the wrong.
This was all that his Lady desired; and thus she continued at
Paris
in spight of him, and made it her business to thwart all his Intrigues.
In the mean time, his Misses Sister came to be married; and that being a favourable opportunity of reconciling her to her Husband, the poor recluse's Friends invited her to be present at the marriage. He was a little restive upon the point: However, being uneasy in Living alone, and wanting only to be urged to it, he pretended, that in marrying her, he had not received the same advantages as they gave to his Sister-in-Law. If they pleas'd, they might have given him the same answer as the Marshal
Feuillade
gave one day to the Brother of Mr.
Courchamp,
Master of Requests, who is, at present, Master of the King's Houshold, and Collonel of a Regiment of Foot. He had a mind to be an Ensign in the Guards, and that Marshal offering to sell him a Commission at double the worth, he represented to him, that it was not worth so much; upon which the Marshal replied, That he owned it was true; but, withall, that he ought to know, that
that
sort of Posts were sold according to the merit of those that pretended to buy 'em; That there was one price for a Man of Quality, and another for such as he, and in effect, That neither his Physiognomy, nor his Air, would bring any honour to the Regiment. I do not insist upon the Consideration of his Birth; for that Regiment has been fill'd, I do not know how long, with Men of the same Degree; and I think the Marshal had no reason to inflame the price of the Commission, because he was only a Tradesman's Son. But let that be as it will (as I said before) the Recluse's Relation might have alledg'd the same Reasons to her Husband: Nay, they had a better Title so to do; for 'tis natural to give with a Girl in Marriage, in proportion to the Circumstances of him that Marries her. In fine, he stood out boldly, notwithstanding that he had a mind to take his Wife home again. He was not present at the Marriage, which was accompanied with a sad Scene; for the Bride's Mother, that was well but four Days before, Died the same day, that the Nuptial Benediction was pronounced. The Bridegroom, who did not marry any great Beauty, was not much troubled at that Circumstance, because he had no great prospect of Pleasure in her Company. His Bride's Face promising but little satisfaction, he willingly abstain'd from the Duties of a Husband, upon the plea of the loss of her Mother. But he could not handsomely put it off longer than the second Night, at which time he was oblig'd to break the Ice: And this comforted the new married Lady, upon the loss of the first Night, especially considering, that she fear'd her Deformity would have eternis'd her Affliction.
Another Lady was Married at the same time, that would have taken it very ill, if her Husband had thus amus'd himself with crying and lamentation on the Wedding-Night. 'Twas Madam
Girardin,
the Widow of Mr.
Girardin,
who was first a Lieutenant of a Province, and after that, was sent Ambassador to
Constantinople.
He had play'd his Game to good purpose; for upon the Division of his Estate, his Widow had above a hundred thousand Crowns for her share, besides a great quantity of Moveables, that was worth half as much. She had likewise a good Marriage of it, upon other scores, which made her bear a good Figure, insomuch, that many Persons about Court had her in their Eye: But she lik'd the Marquis of
Canillac
better than any other of her Suitors, tho' he had nothing but his Sword to trust to. This Lady had two Brethren, one of them President to the Parliament, and the other Master of Requests, and Intendant of a Province. Fearing they would oppose her Marriage, if she discovered her Design, she resolv'd to be Married without giving them any notice. For they were both Lawyers, and forasmuch as that sort of Men are very sharp Sighted where they have any Interest, she would not be oblig'd either to have recourse to the King to stifle their Opposition, or to secure herself at Law. Thus was the matter concluded without their knowledge; and it happened, that on the Wedding-Day, the Intendant having arriv'd at
Paris
but twenty four Hours before, sent her word by his Foot-man, That he would come and Dine with her. The Foot-man coming to the Gate, was surpriz'd to find a Porter and Foot-men, with Liveries different from his; and being introduc'd by one of these Foot-men into my Ladies Chamber, he found her a Bed with a Man: However, not knowing what the matter mean'd, and not daring to ask any of her Servants, he only deliver'd his Master's Compliment. The Lady made answer, That truly she had other things to mind, than the giving his Master a Dinner; and that she doubted if she could be stirring, when he should come to Dinner. With the same Breath, she bid him give her Brother to know, that she only put off the Complment to another time; and that then she would acquaint him with the Reason, why she would not give him a meeting that day. The Air with which she spoke these words, gave the Foot-man to understand, that she lik'd the Trade she had lately taken up. When he return'd, and gave his Master an account of all he saw or heard, the Intendant went immediately to impart the good News to the President. The President having known by Experience, what small stress ought to be laid on a Woman's Prudence, took the matter at first to be Criminal. He thought his Sister had entertain'd a Gallant, and told his Brother, that he would ruine h
r, and that they should think of expedients to prevent it. The Intendant having a better Opinion of the Women, than his Brother, reply'd, That he was too forward, and that they ought not to Condemn their Sister upon such slight grounds; and that he believ'd she was Married, because his Foot-man said, her Servants had changed their Livery. The President, who upon the hopes of having a share in her Succession, had shewn his Displeasure upon the apprehension of her entertaining a Gallant; was yet more disgusted when he heard of a Husband: And forasmuch as all his remaining Comfort consisted in disanulling the Marriage, in case she had Married a Fortune-Hunter, He sent one of his Foot-men to her Gate, to know what Name she went by. But when his Foot-man return'd, and acquainted him, that her Name was
Canillac,
and that her Husband was an Officer in the second Company of Musqueteers; he then was sensible, that he had nothing to hope for upon that score.
About the same time, Mr.
Bignon de Blansi,
Master of Requests, the Nephew of Mr
Pontchartrain,
was likewise married to Madam
Hebert
Debuc,
the Niece of Madam
Pompone,
and the Daughter of Mr.
Hebert Debuc,
Master of Requests. Mr.
Blansi
was Brother to the Intendant of
Piccardy.
His first Lady was Mademoiselle
Brunet,
who died in Child-bed when she was but twenty two Years of Age, and left him no Issue. Some days after his second marriage, Mr.
Pontchartrain
procur'd him a Commission for being a Master of Requests, that might be worth two thousand Livres a Year. He had another Commission before that brought him no Profit. Tho' after all, those who have such sort of Places, continue still to desire them, because they are not only Posts of Honour, but make way for others that are more profitable. Mr.
Pontchartrain,
who commonly has the disposal of that sort of things, design'd this Post for Mr.
Harouis,
Son-in-Law to Mr.
Richebourg,
Madam
Pontchartrain
's Uncle, who, besides the Honour of being her Kinsman, was thereby qualified, not only for this, but for a more considerable Commission. Accordingly he order'd Mr.
Depinet,
one of his Deputies that looks after such things, to make ready an Act, and carry it to the Chancellor. But this Magistrate having a grudge against
Pontchartrain,
instead of filling up the blank with
Mr. Harouis
his Name, according to
Mr. Pontchartrain
's desire signfy'd to him by his Deputy, ask'd him how long a Controller General had offer'd to give Laws to a Chancellor, and at the same time, gave him to know, that he understood his own Business without being taught it, and fill'd up the Blank with the Name of
Arnothon,
Master of Requests.
Depinot
returning to
Mr. Pontchartrain,
gave him an account of the Chancellor's Compliment.
Mr. Pontchartrain
was unwilling to make any noise, tho' perhaps he had Reason enough, only after that he did nothing relating to his Office, without speaking first to the King; so that it was not in the Chancellor's Power to thwart him.
Much about the same time, there happen'd another marriage, which I would be loath to insert here, if it had not given occasion to one word that was taken notice of. Mr.
de la Ferrier,
the Son of that
Berrier,
whose memory is still odious to all the World, tho' he has been a long time Dead: This Man married his Daughter to the Son of
Des Chiens,
whose Birth and Places bore a near resemblance to his Father, and all that he did. For tho' he had the Impudence to say, that he was descended of a Noble Family, yet all the Country bears witness, that his Father, and his Ancestors, deriv'd their Extraction from the scum of the People. However, Mr.
de la Ferrier
's Lady being Grand-Child to the late Mr.
Novion,
first President, his Alliance with that Family, of which his Lady descended by the Mother-side, was so monstrous, that all the World cried out, that the Blood of the
Novions
was disgrac'd, since, whereas it was formerly mingled with that of
Luxemburg,
in the Person of the late Count
de Tremes,
Father to the present Duke
de Gevres,
it was now bestow'd upon
Chiens (Dogs.)
But the matter lay here; these
Chiens
were furnish'd with Golden Teeth; and the Father had got so considerably by the Places he had in this War, that the
Novions
were nothing near so considerable as he. This Mr.
de la Ferriere,
was not reckon'd a Beast, either in Council, or in his own Domestick Affairs, tho' there was a time, when he pass'd for a Bankrupt; and upon that false Report, 'twas said, That the King would take all his Places from him, for fear his Poverty should tempt him to be unjust in the discharge of his Offices. But if we may credit what happen'd soon after the marriage of his Daughter, to whom he gave nothing; all this pretended Poverty was only a faint, to impose upon the Publick; for his Brothers, with whom he was at law for their Portions, presented a Request to the Judges, setting forth, That their Father had left an Estate of two millions of money, which he was actually possess'd of; and that their Eldest Brother kep
it up, without doing them Justice. This Petition made his Creditors very uneasy. They alledg'd, That since his own Brethren had thus inform'd against him, the Council before which they pleaded, and which he endeavour'd to move to Compassion, by his pretended Poverty, ought not to have any regard to his Allegations, for depriving them of their Right. In former times, Cardinal
Mazarin
made use of much such another Argument to ruine Mr.
Fouquet;
for Abbot
Fouquet
his Brother revil'd him horridly; and whenever any-body offer'd to plead for him, the Cardinal made Answer, That they did not know Mr.
Fouquet
so well as his Brother; and that by consequence, his Testimony was preferable to theirs. And, in effect, the Abbot, who was an odd sort of a Man, being at once the greatest
Braggadochio,
and the greatest Coward in the World: This Abbot, I say, had a great hand in ruining the Super-Intendant. He presented Memorials against him; and 'tis well known what weight they were of, when the question was put, Whether he should be Arrested or not. This Abbot was such a Vaunting Fellow, that he pretended he would take the Prince, and the Marshal of
H
quincourt,
by the Beard, to make them repent of their taking up Arms against the King. But on the same very day, that
Barbesieres
came from
l
nders,
on purpose to carry off the Father of Mr.
Girardin
mention'd above, who was a famous
Partisan,
some-body came and told the Abbot, that the Prince had sent out a Party to take him up, having heard the Stories he had spoke of him; and thus put him in such a Fear, that he durst not venture to go out of
Paris,
without a strong Guard.
Soon after all these Marriages, a Sentence of Banishment was granted against Medemoiselle
de Varennes,
a Lady of Quality, in the Country of
Maine,
who was more known by the Affection that great Prelate had for her, than by the Reputation of her Ancestors. 'Twas said, that this Affection was the effect of Amorous Embraces; and that her Friend before his Death, advised her to marry some Person of Quality, that had nothing, upon Condition, that he should own her Children to be his. He had made her so rich by his Bounty, that he thought she was in a Condition to tempt every body. 'Tis true, there were a great many poor Wretches, that would have been glad of such an adventure. But 'twas not that sort of Men, that she had a mind to: Notwithstanding the scandalous terms, she pretended still to have her choice, and receiv'd Visits from all the Court, in a House of hers, that resembled an inchanted Palace. To carry on the Wheedle the better, she entertain'd them very handsomly, and in
Lent
regal'd them with Meat, notwithstanding the King's Orders to the contrary. For His Majesty, to put a stop to all manner of Libertinism, had order'd, that only those, who were sickly, or otherwise incommoded, should have liberty to eat Meat with the Church's Permission; and that they should not let any body share with them, under the pain of incurring his Displeasure. But, tho' Madam
Varennes
was far from that Condition, being in very good Health, yet she not only eat of it herself, but invited all her Visiters to eat with her. The King got notice of this, and sent her a Letter under the great Seal, to be gone. Her Friends promis'd her a Grant of some time before she went into Exile: But instead of making preparations for her Departure, she promis'd a thousand Pistols to Count
Gramont
for procuring a Revocation of the Sentence. Count
Gramont
being a Person that subsists only by the King's Bounty, and at such Wind-falls does not use to be asleep: This Count, I say, did not pretend to deny the thing to the King, that being the wrong way to compass his Design; but represented to His Majesty, That the Lady being set all-alone at Table, where she fed upon Mear, pursuant to a permission she had from the Curate, some people came in and surpriz'd her, and, in spite of her Teeth, sat down with her; that this was no infraction upon the design of His Majesty's Order, and that all the World might be catched in the same Trap, as well as she, without they kept their Gates shut at Meal-times, as in a Convent. In fine, he pleaded her Cause with such dexterity, that the King granted his Request, upon a promise, that the Lady would be more cautious for the future. Then the Marquis of
Vieuxburg
began to declare himself a Sui
r to the fair Lady, tho' he could not well do it without a breach of Faith to Mademoiselle
de Bulli,
a Lady of Quality, near
Neuchatel
in
Normandy,
to whom he had given a Promise of Marriage. He was the Son of the Chancellor's Lady; and having lost his Eldest Brother at the Siege of
Namur,
carried on by the Enemies, succeeded to his Estate, which was not inconsiderable. The good Name he had in that Province, together with this Succession, and a little Honour, if he had
had
any, ought to have deterr'd him from so scandalous an Alliance: But this Lady having inchanted him, he open'd his mind to her; and by the discovery of his Design, pleas'd her so well, that she offer'd to give him all she had, provided he Married her. In effect, the business was kept private for some time; and in the mean time, the Chancellor's Lady happening to die, both of them were sensible that it was a favourable accident for them, in reg
rd she would never have suffered her Son to be guilty of that Folly, in her Life-time. The Chancellor, who had been kept ignorant of his Lady's illness for some days, and hinder'd from going to her Chamber, under the pretence of some prejudice that might thereby accrue to either of their Healths: This Magistrate, I say, gave his Lady a magnificent Funeral. In the mean time, he went and spent some days with the President
Fourci,
and after that return'd to his own House, and recommenc'd the exercise of his Office, which has this privilege beyond all others, That those who are invested with it, never wear mourning, either for their Relations, or for the King himself. Monsieur, and Mr.
de Chartres,
gave him a Visit to Solace him upon his Loss. The next day the Pope's Nuncio came to his House, and every body thought he had come upon the same Errand. But tho' the measures of Civility requir'd that Compliment, especially since he came to the Chancellor's own House; yet he made him another, that quickly discover'd the chief reason of his coming. However, it was not disagreeable; for after having assur'd him of the Pope's Respect for him, and his Family, He presented to him a Brief from His Holiness, permitting the second Son of Madam
Harlai,
his Daughter, to possess all sorts of Abbeys, even those mortgag'd to Regulars, tho' he was then but nine Years of Age. The reason that mov'd the Pope to this Dispensation, was set forth in the Brief. It imported, that his Holiness was infinitely glad to hear that Mr.
Harlai
was gone from
France,
upon a design of making a general Peace; and that His Holiness thought himself oblig'd to testify this his Joy, by granting that favour to his Son. But after all, the Holy Father had not taken up this desire of giving Peace to Christendom, till the King was expell'd
Italy
by the
Savoy-
Treaty, under the pretence, that
Italy
would always be fetter'd, so long as His Majesty was possess'd of any thing on that side. Thus Popes, Kings, and great Folks, talk as they will; tho' at the same time they are glad to insinuate to others, that they design nothing but what will redound to the advantage of those who are subject to them.
Count
Marsan,
the Youngest Brother of all the Princes of the House of
Lorraine,
who married the Marchioness of
Siegnelay,
after the Duke of
Luxemburg
broke off from her, got at that time a Pension of Twenty thousand Livers. This was matter of surprisal to every-body, not only by reason of the small Service he had ever done to the State, but because he had always a sorry Interest at Court. For the purpose. When he married the Marchioness of
Albret,
Widow to the Marquis of
Albret, Marshal de Camp,
who was kill'd when he went to see his Mistress; at that time, the King turn'd that Lady out of the Queen's Retinue; not that she had done any thing deserving that disgrace; but only, because she had married a Man that the King did not like. The reason of the King's dislike, was grounded on his having some intrigue with a Young Prince, that His Majesty took care of, and his being charg'd with cajoling and wheedling a Young Princess, that he was equally concern'd for. But after all, he found ways and means to attone for all that; and upon that score was oblig'd to his Lady, who has Friends of Interest and Credit. At present, he enjoys above fifty thousand Crowns a Year, tho' before his first marriage, he was not worth a Groat; and just now he has bought one of the finest Houses in
Paris.
He had it from President
Tambonneau;
and that Magistrate bore some hard words from the first President, upon the account of some Difficulties relating to the execution of the Bargain. That House had formerly a large Garden to it, part of which Mr.
Tombonneau
cut off, and joyn'd it to another House of his; and Count
Marsan
alledg'd, That tho' that part was cut off by a particular clause, Calculated for that purpose; yet at that time, it ought to be undone, because it return'd naturally to the purchase to which it had always belong'd. They agreed to leave the matter to the Arbitration of the first President. But whether this Magistrate was partial, or thought it was justice to give it against
Tombanneau,
He deliver'd his mind in such harsh terms, as insinuated, that he had over-reach'd Count
Marsan.
'Twas some time before Mr.
Tambonneau
would agree to his Verdict; but at last the matter was accommodated; and at this day, Count
Marsan
lives in that fine House. Mr.
Pontchartrain
had a mind for the House; but being a Man of a different stamp from some Ministers, who do not grudge to give any price for what they like, he could not come up to Mr.
Tombanneau
's price. To be plain, when a Man throws away his money at such a rate, 'tis a sign he comes easily by it; whereas good Husbandry speaks a fair purchase.
The Princess of
Harcourt,
whose Husband is of the same Family with Count
Marsan,
but not
ear so Rich, lost at that time, a Law-Suit with Madam
Nemours,
which she thought she had been sure of. 'Twas laid before the Council, and related to the Register of
Lions,
which she justly alledg'd to have been the property of her Grand-Father, by the Mother's-side. This her Grand-Father was the famous Farmer of the Revenue, call'd
Garnier,
who, tho' he was Born to very little, had got such a vast Estate, that he might have boasted of greater matters than
Sebastian Zamer
did in former times; for whereas this Man entitled himself, a Master of five hundred thousand Crowns, the other might have pretended to sixteen millions. He was effectually possess'd of eight millions clear of the best money in the World, and the King owed him as much. But soon after Mr.
Fouquet
was catch'd, the Court of Justice came upon him, and there he was Taxed in proportion to what he had got, so that his whole Fortune was melted in a moment. By good luck he had married a whole Regiment of Daughters very handsomely; and having pay'd their Portions in ready money, Mr.
Colbert,
who rak'd into the very Branches of Families, could find no plea to suck out the Blood, that they endeavour'd to maintain their Honour with. The Princess of
Harcourt
's Mother, who was married to Count
Brancas,
Gentleman of Honour to the Queen's Mother, had thus escaped that Minister's scrutiny, because all her Portion was money paid down. However, her Daughter was of the same Humour with her Grand-Father, so that it was not long of her, if she was not Rich. She lost the above-mentioned Suit only by one Vote, which she thought ought to have lest oppos'd her. Having always been very careful in making interest with the Ministers, she hop'd that Mr.
Pontchartrain,
who was one of the Judges, would favour her; But equity prevailing with honest Men, beyond all other Considerations, he was one of those that cast her. Tho' after all, when he was ask'd wherein Madam
Nemours
's Cause had the advantage of hers, He reply'd, That he could not well tell; and that if he had thought the rest would have been of his mind, he would have manag'd that Cause like the Oyster in
Boileau
's Satyrs, in giving the two Shells to the two Princesses, and the fleshy part to the King, because the property contested by them, belong'd in effect only to His Majesty. The Princess of
Harcourt,
who will never lose any thing for want of a vigorous defence, does not yet give her Cause over for lost; and having sometimes been lucky in Law-Suits, she hopes to have the same good Fortune in this. But since her Fortune has been out of her Hands these twelve or fifteen Years, 'tis not probable that 'twill ever return to her. She made a shift, by the interest of one of her Friends, to perswade
Mademoiselle de Guise,
to give her Husband the Dukedom of
Guise,
and
Guise-house,
which were worth at least three millions. The procuring of this favour had cost the Prince of
Harcourt
some Compliments and Addresses to his Benefactress: But his Humour being not so pliable as his Lady's, he re-assum'd his Character, when he thought the business was done. Madam
Guise
complain'd of this to the Friend that had acted the part of a Mediator; and he being not able to perswade the Prince to continue his Visits, she resum'd her Gift. This Thunder-struck his Lady, who upon this Affair had display'd her utmost prouess. However, she is to be commended for managing so wisely the Affairs of her Family, which her Husband neglects. He minds nothing but his Diversion, while she scrapes up money to pay a Pension, that she's oblig'd to give him upon the consideration of his having turn'd over all his Estate to her. But the Times we live in being so unhappy, that little can be made of a Land-Estate, she would find it very hard to do what she does, if she did not find ways of getting of something from time to time. She neglects no opportunity, small or great, it never scapes her, provided she has any prospect of success.
About that time, the Court was very hot upon the execution of a project, that had been proposed by several Persons a long time before; I mean that of taking
Carthagena,
where the Banks of several Nations were lodg'd, as well as part of the Riches of
Perou.
In the beginning of the War, a
Rochel-
Man, call'd
Petit,
was taken up, who had gone to
Holland,
and there abjur'd his Religion, upon the perswasion of his Wife; and after her Death had return'd to
France.
He was well vers'd in Sea-Affairs; and having been imploy'd by the
Dutch,
orders were given to take him Dead or Alive. Mr.
Vilette,
a Lieutenant-General at Sea, was imploy'd to execute the Orders; and, indeed, he once made up so close to him, that he thought to have given a good account of him: But
Petit
being on Board of a better Sailer, than any of the Lieutenant-General's Ships, he luckily got off; tho some time after, he deliver'd himself into the Hands of the Governor of
Vallenciennes,
who gave notice of the same to the Court. In regard, he return'd with a resolution to re-assume his wonted Religion and Obedience, and had spoke so to some People, who had acquainted the Ministers with it; they could not handsomely indite him, but contented themselves with securing his Person in the
Bastille;
that being thought necessary, for that after such an escape as his, 'twas to be feared he might do the like again, if ever he fell into the Hands of such a Woman as his first Wife was. His Imprisonment was a great surprizal to him: However, having time enough in Prison to think of his Concerns, he bethought himself, that he would never be set at Liberty, unless he attoned for his Crime, by some great piece of Service. Having considered again and again of the matter, and being well acquainted with the Coast where
Carthagena
lies; he lit upon the same Thought as others had before him. He was of Opinion, That 'twas not impossible for the King to make himself Master of that place, and even of—which is yet Richer, and, as it were, the Magazine of all the Riches of
Perou.
Having hatch
d this Thought, his next business was to give it vent; for which end, he asked to speak with Mr.
Besmaux,
Governor of the
Bastille.
But whether the Governor thought the Man was troubled with maggoty Fancies, or whether he had no mind to be himself an instrument of losing his Prisoners, by whose maintenance he got a great deal, and for that reason called them his Pigeons; Whatever was in it, he would not allow him Paper to express his Thoughts upon, but only promised to speak of his Project to a Mininister of State. Tho' after all, 'tis very likely he did not that; for 'tis plain, that, if he had, Mr.
Pontchartain,
who had the management of Marine. Affairs, was too good a Servant of the King's, to neglect such a proposal as that. The Prisoner receiving no Answer, notwithstanding the Governor's Promise to bring him one; cut off the Margins of a Book that he had, and having made some Ink of Soot or Charcoal, wrote down his Project, together with several other things, that then came into his Head. He had not well finished his Scheme, when Marshal
Tourville
came to the
Bastille
to try some Cannon of a new invention. The Cannon were fired into the Ditch, which the Prisoner observing through the Grates of the Chamber, threw out his Paquet well wraped up. It fell at the Marshal's Feet, who haveing time to read the Superscription,
viz. To Marshal
Tourville,
upon Affairs of great consequence relating to the Sea. This Pacquet to be delivered to Mr.
Pontchartrain. Having read, I say, this Superscription, he refufed to deliver it to Mr.
Besmaux,
who ask'd it of him. The Governor indeavour'd to perswade him to it; by setting forth, That a Minister whose time was so precious, ought not to be disturb'd with idle Whims; that probably there was nothing in the Pacquet, but such Vapours as the damps of a Prison are apt to excite; and that for his part, he was teaz'd every day with such things, but that he never minded them. Mr.
Tourville
looking up to the Window where the Pacquet fell, ask'd him, who was in that Chamber? Mr.
Besmaux
made Answer, That 'twas a
Rochel
Renegado, without telling his Name: But the Marshal knowing that
Petit
was Prisoner in the Castle, and taking that to be his Apartment, told the Governor, that since the Pacquet came from so good a place, he was obliged to give it to Mr.
Pontchartrain.
Accordingly he gave it to him; and that Minister having perus'd it, found some things in it better explain'd than in the other Memorials that had formerly been given in upon that Subject. Then he let the matter sleep for a while, in order to digest things more maturely; and at last spoke of it in private to some Sea-Officers, that he thought capable to resolve some Doubts he had upon that Head. Some of them represented it as impossible; and others as a very dangerous enterprize; only Mr.
Pointis
spoke of it as an easy thing, because he wanted to be imploy'd in the Expedition. One must be prepossess'd with an expectation of success in any Enterprize, in order to go through with it. Accordingly, in several Conferences between that Minister, and
Pointis,
the latter appear'd still more and more forward, and removed several Difficulties, that the other look'd upon as very considerable: So great an itch had
Pointis
to signalize himself in that Expedition. But
Glory
was not the only motive in his view; he had another that weigh'd as much with him, tho' it was not altogether so Honourable. He was in Love with President
Ferrand's
Daughter, and neither of them having any Estate, in the ardour of his Passion to enjoy her, he thought no Wall whatsoever would stand before him. Mr.
Pontchartrain
perceiving that he was the Man he wanted, and that he could never find another that would carry on the Enterprize with so much heat: Upon this consideration, I say, he gave him a Promise of being imploy'd upon that Design.
Pointis
recounted the Affair to his Mistress, and among many other sweet words told her, That she should have the Triumph of that Place; that for his part, all his Ambition was, to lay at her Feet, all the Riches that the Expedition should afford; and that he accounted himself but too happy, if by that means he could procure her favour. While he was thus taken up in Courtship, Mr.
Ponchartrain
went effectually about the business. There being a necessity of an infinite sum of money, to answer the Charge that His M
jesty was at upon other accounts: He had a mind that this Expedition should cost the King nothing. With this view, by the King's permission, he erected a Company, which advanc'd the money for carrying on the Expedition, upon Condition of receiving the Profits that should accrue by it; some put in a thousand Pistols, some more, some less; the Fleet was got ready, and Mr.
Pointis
put to Sea, when no body knew where he was going. The
English
thought he had a design upon their Possessions in
Carolina,
and gave the necessary Orders to prevent it. The
Dutch
were apprehensive of a design upon them. However, Mr.
Pontis
fell in upon
Carthagena,
all on a sudden, when the
Spaniards
least expected it, and Landed there some Soldiers that he had brought with him. At the same time, the Governor of St.
Domingo,
being acquainted with the Design, brought some Buckaneers to assist at the Siege.
Pointis
stood much in need of them, and without them he had never compass'd his end. But they were so dissatisfied upon the small share they had of the Booty, that they first complain'd to him, and then threaten'd openly to send some body to Court, to demand justice of him. He laugh'd, both at their Complaints and Threats, fancying, that his success would procure him a hearing to their prejudice. There was an immense quantity of Riches in that City, both in Bars of Silver, Gold-dust, and pretious Stones: And he did not neglect his own Coffers, no more than some Captains of Ships, whose Avarice was more notorious than his own: For on Board of one of them, there was found Effects, to the value of eighty thousand Crowns; he having converted the money into Goods, which he was afterwards oblig'd to convert into money again. Others were likewise convicted of having endeavour'd to enrich themselves upon the Company's Charges, while it was only suspected. But since Malice and Calumny is very forward, especially upon such things, for which every Man is believed to have a good Appetite; 'twould not be just to be positive in the Accusation. In that City, there was a Young Man, who was the Son of the Governor of
Lima;
and, by his Folly, had a mind to furnish those who vented Romances, with Truths instead of their ordinary Fables. He was seiz'd with a Passion of Love for the Princess of
Conti,
the King's Daughter, upon seeing her Picture, which fell accidentally into his Hands, by an Engagement with the
Buccaneers:
He found it in the Arms of one that was Kill'd, and presently took it into his own, as being a Treasure that he esteem'd more than the Pearls and Diamonds he had found among the Spoil. Never were such Follies committed, as that young Fool was guilty of, after the sight of that Picture; every day he kissed it a thousand times, and he never ingaged, without invoking it before hand, as the only Deity that could assist him.
good Fortune he had, he imputed it all to it, which enlarged his esteem of it more and more. But at last being over-power'd in an Eng
gement with a King, in the Neighbourhood of his Father's Government; the King, as barbarous as he was, lov'd the Picture as passionately as he, As soon as he cast his Eyes upon it, he ask'd. What Picture it was, and would have snatch'd it from him: Upon that, he threw himself at the King's Feet, conjuring him to take his Life, before he robb'd him of his Picture. The Conqueror seeing him in so humble a Posture, took pity of him, and offer'd to let him keep his Picture, provided he gave him to know the Original. The Young Gentleman reply'd, That he could not satisfie him upon that point, because he did not know himself whose it was: And with the same Breath, acquainted him how it came into his Hands, and offer'd to get it Copy'd. The Prince was so much taken with the Beauty of the Picture, that he caus'd several Copies to be drawn from it: These he order'd to be hung up in the Temples of his false Gods, in order to adore the Original, which he thought could not be so pretty, unless she were Divine. The Young Gentleman having thus sav'd his Picture, was afraid of losing it at
Carthagena,
when Mr.
Pointis
took it; Fancying, that all the World were as great Fools as he, and the Prince that made an Idol of it. The first Compliment he made to Mr.
Pointis,
was, That by the right of Conquest, he was Master of all that he had; but as for that Picture, he would part with it and his Life at the same time. Mr.
Pointis
was so much dazzl'd with the prospect of the Riches that lay before him, that he had forgot every thing, and even Madam
Ferrand;
and thus having other things in view than the Picture, he gave him to know, that he might be easie, and what Pictures he had a mind for, were those of the King of
Spain,
and other Princes, engrav'd upon Gold; and as for the Pictures of Women, he would quit them for a trifle, 'provided they were only valuable for their Beauty, or good Painting. This Promise put the Young Gentleman in good Heart: And Mr.
Pointis
having cloy'd himself with the Plunder of the Town, had the curiosity to look upon the Thing that occasioned the
Spaniard
's Sighs: for he gave deep Sighs every minute, which made people believe, that he was a very p
on
te Lov
r. He shew'd Mr.
Pointis
the Picture, upon his making Oath, that he would not f
ll in Love with it. As soon as Mr.
Pointis
saw it, he knew it to be the Princess of
Conti
's, and
, he knew the Lady, and that his Love was fixed upon a very deserving Object. The Young Gentleman pressing him to tell who the Lady was, he could not deny his Request. Upon this Discovery, it had been very unhandsome in such a Lover as this, not to go to
France.
Accord
ngly he intreated Mr.
Pointis,
to let him have a place in one of his Ships. Mr.
Pointis
having promised him that Favour, did not make him stay long
he set Sail: but tho' the Sea-Air c
ld the Gentleman's Passion for his Mistress, the Admiral round himself in a greater quandary than the Gentleman. An
English
Squadron, much stronger th
n his own, having notice, that he was still
Carthagena,
stood towards that place, in order to dispossess him of the Riches he had p
llag
d. The Governor of St.
Domingo,
who had
to his Government, and was not w
ll pleased with the Usage that he and the Buc
eers h
met with, did nevertheless give him Advice of their Design, because it concern'd the King's
nterest. Mr.
Pointis
made such good use of the Intelligence, that he weigh'd Anchor and avoided the
English,
and at last arriv'd at
Brest,
fter having s
ap'd several Storms, and other troublesome Accidents.
Before his arrival at
Brest,
several Accidents happen'd both at Sea and Land. The most considerable Occurrence at Sea, was Mr.
Nesmond
's falling in with three
English
Ships, homeward bound from
India.
They made a tolerable Defence, but being unequally match'd,
i. e.
three to six, they were taken. All the three were richly Laden; and Mr.
Nesmond
having put Mr.
Montchevreuil
with one
Bene,
an
Irish
man, both of 'em Sea-Lien tenants, on board of one of these Ships; these two plotted together to defraud the Owners of the Prize, while no-body minded 'em. Accordingly they secur'd all they could; and shar'd some Diamonds, and other valuable Goods, equally between 'em. But Mr.
Montchevreuil
's Indiscretion, in spending at
Brest
much more than his Incomes could afford, quickly discovered the Intrigue: His Father allowed him nothing; and all he had was a Pension of one thousand Livers, and his Equipage. Upon this, Intendant
Begnon
smelling the matter, gave notice of it to the Court. His Interest at Court might have prevented his Arrest, if Mr.
Begnon
's Intelligence had not been put out of all doubt, by his imprudence, in setting out his very Foot-men with the best Mus
ins he had taken in that Ship.
Bene,
indeed, acted more prudently; and it was not long of him that the thing took Air: But Mr.
Montchevreuil
's imprudence carried it so far, that they were both taken up.
Bene,
who had not so much Interest as the other, could not get off, notwithstanding the Wisdom of his Conduct.
Begnon
wrote him a thundring Note, concluding in these few words,
You are happy in having Mr.
Montchevreuil
for a Partner in your Robbery; Assure your self, that if you were by your self, I would have ca
s
d you to be Hang'd in forty eight Hours.
At the Mari
es interceeded on his behalf, because he was a good Officer; but forasmuch as the one could not be indited without the other, they were both clear'd after five or six months Imprisonment. But after all, if all the Thieves had been Hanged,
Bene
had got more Company than Mr.
Montchevreuil:
For at the Sale of these Prizes, which amounted in Gross to 2500000 Livres, a great many things were transacted, that were not very fair. Those who had a mind to 'em, gave a large Present to the persons that were empowered to adjudge 'em, to prevent their being sold by Retail, pursuant to the desire of those who were interess'd in the matter. But whatever the Present was, they lost nothing by it; for at
Nants
they sold the Goods by Retail, at three Millions profit.
In the mean time, the Archbishop of
Paris
imploy'd his utmost endeavours, to make good the Character the King had procur'd him, by giving him that rich Benefice. Tho' his Brother's Fortune might have done something for him, yet he did not owe his Preferment to that, but only to his own Merit. While he was Bishop of
Chalons,
a See that he had before his accession to that of
Paris,
he always acted up to the Office of a Holy Prelate. To continue the same course of Piety that he had always follow'd, he made Head against Vice: And accordingly one of his first Edicts, after his accession to the last See, was levell'd against the Masquerades; an Abuse, that in earnest ought not to be suffer'd among Christians. What a strange preparation is the Commission of a thousand lewd and foolish Actions, for the Repentance that ought to be Preach'd up in
Lent!
The Emperor extirpated this disorder at
Vienna,
under the sole pretext of the War with the
Turks.
Nobody was there allow'd to disguise themselves; and even School-Boys were not allow'd to do it with impunity. However, the Archbishop not using the same pretence to sink that disorder at
Paris,
but that of the Love and Gratitude we owe to God, for shedding his Blood for us upon the Cross, had not the same success as the Emperor had at
Vienna.
If he had had recourse to the King, for the putting his Edict in execution, perhaps the fear of displeasing that Monarch would have gone farther, than the fear of God. But whether it was, that he did not speak of it to the King, or that the King had some Reasons of State for not minding him; there was as many Masquerades that Year, as if there had never been an Order against 'em. The Archbishop finding he could not compass his design, bent his Thoughts upon another Disorder, that wanted as much to be remedy'd; I mean the Debauchery of Women: that was got to such a height, that no Language can reach. There was always two Convents at
Paris,
for shutting up these Wretches; and two Societies have been since Erected, for the same purpose, by the Care and Charity of some Vertuous Ladies. In these Societies, they are far from being used so severely, as at the
Magdalonnettes,
and
Filles Repent
,
where the Whips are
o far from freeing a So
l from Vice, that, on the contrary, they make 'em regret, that they cannot continue their past course of Life. We must not pretend to translate a Person all on a sudden, from Vice to Vertue, especially by Correction; for that ought to be effected by degrees, and rather by Perswasion, than by Force. This gentle method was used in these two Societies; one of which is call'd St.
Isidore,
and the other
Bon Post
ur.
The latter had this peculiar Custom, that they forc'd none to come among 'em. All the Actions of that House, were answerable to its Title. The Girls that repented of their Lewdness, or were afraid of falling into it, came thither of their own accord, and were entertain'd there as long as they pleas'd; and their
Governantes
either procur'd 'em some Place in a Person of Quality's House, if they were fit for Service, or got 'em Husbands, if they lik'd that better. When they desired to be gone, they were suffered to go, tho' 'twas to be fear'd, they might return to their Vomit. This Society, and this Custom is still kept up; and all pious Persons, of what Condition soever, not only visit these lost Sheep, that are thus return'd to their Flock, but likewise Eat with 'em very often. This they take to be a more effectual method, as indeed it is, to reclaim them, than that of letting Dogs loose upon 'em. And 'tis for this reason that the House is entitl'd
Bon Pasteur, The good Shepherd;
for the
Good Shepherd,
who, properly speaking, is the Son of God, did not scruple to eat with
Publicans.
As for the Daughters of St.
Isidore,
they were not used so very gently, as those of the
Bon Pasteur;
but kept a sort of a Medium between these and the
Magdalonnettes.
The Archbishop, whose Province it is to take Cognisance of all that passes in that sort of Houses, knowing that these liv'd under a Director, whose Doctrine he suspected, would have taken them from him. But they stood by him with some warmth; and the more they shew'd their zeal to keep him, the more the Archbishop pressed to put another in his place. At last, they told him freely, That if he put in another, they would not receive him, and that they would rather disperse than comply with it. Now they had liberty to disperse, for they were not settled there, either by the King's Letter, or an Order from the Court of Justice. Accordingly, perceiving that the Archbishop was immoveable, and fully resolv'd to subject them to his Obedience, they actually dispers'd; for which the Archbishop was blam'd by a great many, especially by those who were not acquainted with the reason, that had oblig'd him to do as he did.
At that time, Mr.
Verthamont de Villemont
dyed, who was the only Man that perhaps made the King depart from his wonted Moderation. He was Master of Requests; and making use of the Authority he had among the Gown-men, both by his Place, and by the numerousness of his Relations and Friends, did what he could to Ruine a Gentleman of the Name of
Servon,
that had been his Neighbour in the Country.
Servon
being Related to Mr.
Perefixe,
Archbishop of
Paris,
had recourse to him, who engag'd to protect him, after he found that Magistrate so proud of his Interest, that he openly contemn'd both his Friend and him.
Verthamont
finding that the Archbishop had declar'd against him, and that he had imbark'd in that Cause for the sake of some Interest of his own, form'd a design against his Life, and alledg'd, that he had a Love int
gue upon that side. On the other hand, the Archbishop form'd a design against his Life. Thus th
rais'd between 'em the greatest Suit that had
en seen for a long time; and the Cause being
ought before the Council, the King himself a
d at the Decision; which Mr.
Villemont,
who knew his Integrity and Justice, was not pleas'd with. The Archbishop being sensible that his Honour was very much touch'd by the Accusation prefer'd against him by that Magistrate; and that 'twas not enough for him to maintain, that it was an Imposture, as it was, but to prove it to be such; upon this view I say, he desir'd him to condescend to the Circumstances of the Fact, in order to his Conviction. Accordingly
Verthamont
advanc'd, That on such a Day, at such an Hour, in such a Year, and at such a Place, he had an interview with a certain Lady, whom it was well known he had formerly visited with some sort of Familiarity. Now, Mr.
Perefixe
was at that time at
Rhodes,
of which he was Bishop before his Accession to the See of
Paris;
and for fear
Verthamont
should retract and throw his mistake upon the weakness of his Memory; he pretended at first to make but weak Defences, in order to make the other maintain his Forgery with more Impudence. This
Verthamont
did not fail to do; for fancying that the whole Court was on his side, the Answers being so frivolous, he insisted on the Charge, because the Archbishop had summon'd him to declare, whether he adher'd to his Accusation, or not. He likewise condescended to a great many particulars of matter of Fact, which seem'd probable. The Archbishop finding him engag'd so far, that he could not afterwards retract, desir'd to be allow'd to prove himself
Alibi.
This was the best method he could take
o justifie his Innocence, and retort the Calumny upon his Adversary. The Court could not refuse to hear his Proof; so, he prov'd, not only by Witnesses, but likewise by an Order he made, as Bishop that day, which was Publish'd throughout his Diocess; he proved, I say, that he was above one hundred and fifty Leagues off from the place of the alledg'd Interview.
Verthamont
was strangely surpris'd, when he saw himself thus Convicted. However, as all Litigious Men have some back Door or other, he alledg'd, That, indeed, he was out as to the Year; but as to the Fact it self, and the Day, he was certainly in the right: But after what was past, that Reason would not bear: So that he was not only order'd to make reparation of the Prelat's Honour; but he, and his Posterity, were declar'd uncapable for ever of enjoying any Magistracy. The Sentence contain'd likewise other Punishments against him, which 'twere too tedious to insert here. However, fancying the King would be so good as to dispense with part of 'em, he had the boldness to appear at the King's Levee some days after. The King was incens'd when he saw him, and commanded him, in har
h words, to depart his Chamber.
Verthamont
obey'd, without staying for a second Order; and was even oblig'd to retire to the Country, for the King would not allow him so much as to continue at
Paris.
The Plenipotentiaries continued still at
Reswick,
and it being uncertain whether the Peace would be concluded or not, new Edicts were issued forth. One of 'em oblig'd the great Cities and Towns of the Provinces, to take Lanthorns, like those at
Paris;
and to buy themselves off by a Tax to be laid upon the twentieth Penny. By that Edict the King promis'd, in consideration of that Tax, to be at the charge of the Lights for ever. In fine, 'twas visible, that this was only a new invention for raising of Money, which was much wanted at that time. Mr.
Caumartin,
Intendant to the Finances, was order'd to carry the Edict to the first President, in order to have it convey'd to the Attorney-General, who read it with the coldest Humour of any Man in the World. Mr.
Caumartin
expected, that when he had read it, he would give him his Sentiments of the matter, which he meant to Communicate to the Minister of State. But the Magistrate continuing silent for some time, he turn'd the Edict over, and put it several times into the Hands of the Magistrate, who still return'd it: At last, being tired with shuffling it to and again, he broke silence, and said, It was a fine Edict, and that he and his Friends ought to be convinc'd that it was such. At least, said he, for my particular satisfaction, I expected you would have done me the honour to tell me, in whose Head all these Lanthorns were first projected. Upon this Expression Mr.
Caumartin
could not refrain from Laughing, and imparted the occasion of Laughter to his Friends. After all, the Case was laid before the Parliament, and no one had the same curiosity as this Magistrate had.
The Conferences at
Reswick
did not divert the King from sending puissant Armies into the Field. By vertue of the Peace of
Savoy,
he was Superior in force to his Enemies; and part of his Troops that had serv'd in
Italy,
he had transported to
Catalonia.
In this Province he was still Master of the Cities of
Roses
and
Gironne,
with some other Places of importance; and had a free access to
Bar
lona,
which is the Metrapolitan of that Country, and, in a manner, the Barrier of the
Spanish
Monarchy. This City, which is Rich, Great, well Peopled, and the ordinary Residence of the Nobility of that Country, is situated on the Mediterranean, and has a very considerable port upon that side. The opposition that the House of
Austria
had hitherto made to the Peace, mov'd the King to Besiege it: He thought, that if he could take it, he could at least, bring the
Spanish
Branch to reasonable terms, considering, that after that, even
Madrid
itself was not secure. His Majesty wrote his Thoughts of this matter to Mr.
Vendome,
who commanded the Troops in that Country. This General sent him word, that the Troops he had there were not sufficient for so great an Enterprize; and that it could not be compassed with less than fifty Thousand Men. Now at that time he had s
arce
wenty five Thousand. But His Majesty having ten Thousand more ready upon a Call, comm
nded him to make preparations for the Design, and promis'd to send 'em to him when he wanted 'em. After such positive Orders, Mr.
Vendome
had nothing else to do, but to concert all measures for satisfying the King. The
Spaniards
having already taken the Ala
m at the loss of their other Places in that Province, and perceiving that the King meant to possess himself of that Place, sent their best Troops thither. The Queen of
Spain
being the Empreses's Sister, desir'd the Emperor to send some Regiments under the pretence of preserving that Province. But that was not her main Design: She had a greater eye upon the interest of Arch-Duke
Charles,
her Nephew; for her Husband having no Issue, and being not very healthy, she had a mind to secure to him the Crown that
Philip
IV. had bequeath'd him by his Will. Pursuant to this design, she had brought some
Germans
into the Council, in order to stifle the Artifices, that
France,
and even some
Spanish
Grandees might set on foot, either for the interest of that Crown, or for their own; for there were some of 'em that laid claim to the Blood of the Ancient Kings of
C
stile,
and others to that of the Kings of
Arragon.
These
German
Counsellors acted in concert with her; and the Emperor sent 'em Instructions, to the end that nothing might be concerted contrary to his Interest, or that of the Arch-Duke, his Son. In the mean time, His Imperial Majesty sent the Troops that were desired; and it being much his Interest not to lose
Barcelona,
he intreated the
English
and
Dutch
to send a Fleet into the
Mediterranean.
He was very sensible what was likely to happen, because the King made new preparations in
Provence,
and seem'd to have nothing so much in view as the Conquest of that Place. However, his Intreaty did not come so very seasonably; whether it was, that the
English
and
Dutch
had occasion to employ their Ships elsewhere, or, which is very probable, that they thought the taking of that Place would so humble the House of
Austria,
that they would not oppose the Peace any longer; for they did not much trouble their Heads upon the matter.
While preparations for War were made, not only in that Country, but in all the other seats of War; a new War broke out in the Church, which might have caus'd great disorders, if it had not been quickly stifled; indeed it might have been sooner stifled, if the Arch-bishop of
Paris,
and the Bishop of
Meaux
had not been very complaisant to a certain Gentleman that I shall call by his Name by and by, by which means it took deeper Root than it might have done. To understand this matter throughly, 'twill not be improper to carry our account of things a little higher. In the Popedom of
Innocent
XI. a Priest call'd
Molinos,
started up at
Rome,
who taught very uncommon Doctrines, and did not want followers. Among many erroneous Doctrines, this was the greatest, That when the Soul came once to a certain point of Sanctity, it was not capable of sinning, and then it had no part or concern in the Actions of the Body. 'Tis a standing Maxim, that we ought not to censure a Man's intentions, especially when his Morals are unculpable as to outward appearance; and for that reason I shall be very cautious of saying, that this new Sectary, under the pretence of so great Purity, conceal'd a great many Disorders that his Enemies have falsly charg'd upon him. Perhaps he meant, that the Soul cannot controul some Infirmities that we are subject to from our Mother's Womb: And provided these are detested by her, she is not accountable for 'em before God. Were it so, nothing could be objected against his Doctrine, for such is the Doctrine of the Church; and what St.
Paul
teaches us, who was continually tempted notwithstanding his being one of the greatest Saints in Paradise. However, since a great many uncouth Consequences might be drawn from his way of explaining himself, both upon this Article, and many others, the whole Church rose up against him.
Rome,
in whose view the thing happen'd, Arrested him; and his Case being brought before the Inquisition, he was there Condemned by such Commissioners as were appointed. He submitted himself to their Censure, and some Years after died in Prison: Upon which 'twas generally thought, that this new Heresie, known by the name of
Quietism,
was so far from passing the
Alps,
that it died outright with him. But the Case was quite otherwise: For not only
Italy
was stuffed with his Errours, but even
France
itself was tainted with them. One Madam
Guy
a,
the Widow of Mr.
Montargis,
who, after the g
tting of a great Estate upon the Canal of
Bria
e,
left her with two Children: This Lady, I say, minded nothing less than the true Education of her Children: Not that she wanted either Wit or Judgment; nay, on the contrary, she had a greater share of both than what is natural to Wo
en, or what herself ought to have desired: For she meddled with what did not become her, and shoving her No
e into Books, pretended to explain not only the Fathers but even the Scripture it self. In fine, having heard of
Molinos
and his Herefie, she could not be easie till she had
Copy of his Books, and canvass'd 'em all over. Malicious People will tell you, that she approv'd of 'em, to cover some Enormities that were charged upon her. In the mean time, she fell in with a
Barnabite,
a
Sav
yard
by Nation, who resided in a Convent, belonging to that order at
Montargis.
She made him her Confessour in ordinary and her Confident; and having pour'd her Venom into his Bosom, compil'd a great many Books, either with his help, or without it, so as to make the same Figure in
France,
that
Molinos
had done at
Rome.
Mean while, she ought to have been apprehensive of his
ate; for tho' the Inquisition has not the same
ooting in all Countries, yet she was not ignorant that the venting of a new Doctrine was a disallowable Action. She dispers'd her Books among the Convents, and several other places; and the Abbot of
Fenelon,
the Gentleman whose Name I promised not to forget, finding them of a piece with his Sentiments, approv'd 'em secretly. This he durst not do publickly, by reason that he was made
Sub-praeceptor
to the Children of the Royal Family; and that the discovery of this his Approbation, would not only cut off his arrival at a Bishoprick, but dispossess him of the Post he was then in. However, Madam
Guyon
's Writings being publish'd, began to make a noise in the World; and in regard that the advances contain'd in 'em, incourag'd all the periods of a dissolute Life, or at least, made way for very odd consequences; upon this Consideration, I say, the Bishop of
Meaux,
as well as the Bishop of
Paris,
who was then only Bishop of
Chalons,
undertook to make her sensible of her Error. They had Conferences upon this Head with the Abbot of
Fenelon,
whom they deem'd to be tainted with the same Doctrine. He, on the other hand justify'd her Assertions; and maintain'd, that her Thoughts were Just and Orthodox, tho' the Meaning and Explication that they forc'd upon her, was Heretical. He likewise spoke up for her Morals, and the Conduct of her Life, which he pretended to be particularly acquainted with, tho' both the one and the other were much suspected.
The warmth he shew'd in justifying her, confirm'd the two Prelates in the Thought, That the Doctrine he vindicated, was as much his own, as hers. They told him as much, and he on the other hand did not deny it; but had the submission to assure 'em, That he would willingly change his Mind, if he were convinced of the Error. To this purpose, an Assembly was held at
Issi;
but before they met, Madam
Guyon
had given in to the Bishop of
Meaux,
a Copy of all her Writings, in order to be examin'd at his leisure. The Bishop examin'd it with all possible Care; and likewise was at the pains of inspecting the Conduct of her Life for some time, by which means he discover'd that she inflamed the Evil, by pretending to Authorize her Doctrine by Miracles, and a Gift of Prophecy, bestow'd upon her by God. She recounted Stories to this effect, pretending to confirm 'em by credible Witnesses; and in a word, never did Woman, or Man, carry Fanaticism so far as she did. In fine, there was cause enough for putting her up in
Bedlam,
if it had not been for those who supported her. All the Abbot of
Fenelon
's Friends were hers; the Duke of
Beauvillers,
Governor to the Princes of the Royal Family, was suspected to be an Abettor of her Errors, as well as the Duke of
Chevreuse,
and their whole Families. The thing that confirm'd the general suspicion of the Duke
de Beauvillers
beyond the rest, was the putting his eight Daughters into a Convent at
Montargis.
'Twas concluded from thence, that
Montargis
being the place where this Heresie was first hatched in
France,
that Convent being a Convent of
Benedictines,
was likewise tainted. The whole Family of
Charost
was suspected in like manner of falling in with this Heresie. But that which restrain'd scrupulous and nice Consciences from Condemning it, at a time when they were very sensible of its pernicious Consequences, was, That neither the Court, nor
France
itself, could boast of Persons of such Christian Lives, and Regular Morals, as all the Favourers of the new Doctrine were of. Their Piety was not of so late a date, as the Heresie of
Mo
in
s,
that Madam
Guyon
Reviv'd: From their first appearance at Court, they were all eminent for Vertue; and 'twas in consideration of that, that the King chose to put the Children of
France
under the Government of the Duke of
Beauvillers.
He had been thirty Years a Courtier; and during that space of time, had never counter acted the Measures of Vertue, which shin'd in all his Actions; and in a word, no Man could be in greater esteem at Court, than himself. So that, when the Publick saw him charg'd with the Abetting of this new Doctrine, they look'd upon the Charge as Invidious, as well as Zealous. They put this construction upon the matter, that the Post he was in, created him private Enemies, who wanted to succeed him, and stood at nothing to compass their End.
Whatever was in it, the Abbot of
Fenelon,
who always shewed a disposition to obey what Decision should be made at
Issi,
joyned with Madam
G
yon
in singling out a third Person, who would cast the Ballance upon the side he declared for, if the two Bishops who were to meet should be of a contrary Sentiment. The Bishop of
Meaux
pretends, in a Book he has lately published, That all this was carried on, without the King's knowing any thing of the matter. This I am willing to believe, because he said it. And I likewise believe, that the reason in his view, was, to prevent the King's having an ill opinion of the Abbot of
Fenelon;
His Majesty being an Enemy to all new Opinions, not only out of Piety, but out of Policy; since nothing is more apt to disturb the Repose of a State, than Innovations in Religious Matters. The third Person I mention'd but now, was Mr.
Tronson,
Doctor of the
Sorbonne,
Superior of the Seminary of S.
Sulpitius,
a Man of sound Principles, and one whose Life and Conversation were blameless. Before the Assemblies met, the Abbot of
Fenelon
had time to Compile a Vindication of Madam
Guyon
's Books; but notwithstanding all his Precaution, they were Condemn'd with one general Voice. Madam
Guyon
had promised to submit to the Judgment of these three Doctors, as well as the Abbot of
Fenelon.
And both of 'em seeming to submit, these Judges thought the Matter was laid asleep, tho at the same time, the Fire was only smoother'd under the Ashes. The Abbot of
Fenelon,
had a mind to be a Bishop, before he kindled it again. And in effect, he was no sooner Install'd Archbishop of
Cambray,
but he return'd to his Vomit, notwithstanding that he had invited the two Prelates that Contemn'd his Doctrine, to assist at the Ceremony of his Consecration. However, he went on with a great deal of Precaution, pretending that the Sentence pronounced against him, was only owing to a misunderstanding of the true Sense of the Books under Examination. He gave high Encomiums of the Vertue of that Lady, which at that time began to be more warmly attack'd than before, for 'twas alledg'd, She had only reviv'd
Molinos
's Doctrine for a Cloak to the disorderly things she was charg'd with. Madam
Guyon,
for her part was so far from a true Submission to the Censure of those Judges, that she began again to Write a Vindication of her Doctrine. The Archbishop of
Cambray,
who pretended all along to keep in with the two Prelates that had Condemn'd him, as if the Allegations he had made on the behalf of the Lady, and her Principles, were such as they would have joyn'd with, if they had been fully acquainted with her Person and Doctrines. This Prelate, I say, made a counterfeit Censure of the liberty that the Lady took in setting Pen to Paper again. At last, the King was inform'd of the Matter, but so, that nothing was said against the Bishop of
Cambray;
either because they had a mind to try if they could gain him otherwise, or because they fear'd his Plot was so well contriv'd, that he would come off clear, notwithstanding all the Testimony they could bring against him. Madam
Guyon
was Imprison'd at
Vincennes,
by the King's Order. As the Mind of Man is always curious and fond of Novelties, so her Books were sought for every where, insomuch that there was not half enough for those that wanted 'em. This Lady had a Daughter that was married to the
Count de Vaux,
the Eldest Son of the late Mr.
Fouquet,
Superintendant of the Finances. He was Brother to the Dutchess of
Charost;
and being troubled at the Imprisonment of his Mother-in-Law, as, indeed, he ought to have been, He left no Stone unturn'd to procure her release. The Abbot of
Fenelon
did the same thing under hand. 'Twas represented to the King, that she herself would condemn her own Advances, if she thought they imported what was alleg'd against her, and that she was so far from meaning any such thing, that she thought herself oblig'd to take up her Pen again to undeceive the World; but since His Majesty was displeas'd with her Writing, she would take care not to transgress his Orders for the future. In fine, her Resolution to submit to the Doctrine of the Church, was so dextrously represented to the King, that he condescended to set her at liberty, upon condition, that she should retire to a Convent, just by
Paris,
where her Conduct might be more narrowly inspected: Thither she went, and behaved herself for some time so well, that 'twas really believ'd she was wean'd from her Errors. In the mean time, this thing having made a great noise, the Bishop of
Meaux
resolv'd to publish a Book to undeceive those that might favour the New Doctrine. He communicated his Design not only to the Bishop of
Chalons,
who was then made Archbishop of
Paris;
but likewise to the Bishop of
Cambray.
He gave the latter to know, that he hop'd he would affix his Approbation to the Book, which he desir'd both out of respect to him, and for enforcing and recommending it to the World. He represented farther, That there was a general Report, that he had favour'd that Lady; and that by this means he would shew to the World, that tho' he once thought well of her, yet he did not subscribe to her Errors. The Bishoy of
Meaux
alledges, That he promised his Approbation, and that after this interview, they parted good Friends. This he avers openly in a Book of his that's but just Published. However, the Archbishop of
Cambray
went some days after, to visit the Archbishop of
Paris,
and acquainted him, that he had a mind to write upon that Subject himself, but would not put his Book to the Press, before he knew his Sentiments of it. The Archbishop of
Paris
endeavour'd to dissuade him from pursuing his Design, and remonstrated to him, That the least partiality to that Lady's Tenets, would infallibly ruine him. The other reply'd, That he might easily imagine he had no mind to Print any ill thing, since he offered to shew it first to him. But this Answer did not please the Archbishop of
Paris.
He continued his utmost endeavour to take him off from his Resolution; but at last finding he could not prevail, he desir'd, that at least, he should not Print his Book till the Bishop of
Meaux
had Published his. The Archbishop of
Cambray
promis'd not to do it; and the Archbishop of
Paris
thinking he would keep his word, acquainted the Bishop of
Meaux
with what he had said. In the mean time he expected a sight of the Manuscript; and, indeed, the Bishop of
Cambary
sent it to him, but it was writ in such an abstracted manner, that the first time he read it, he could understand little or nothing of it. In that Manuscript he set forth, That if the Doctrine of the Quietists consisted in the belief of such and such things, he was ready to Condemn it; but if it maintain'd such and such things, he was ready to vindicate it. Thus was his Book divided into several Chapters, some containing a description of the Quietism, That all Doctors ought to reject; and others of the Quietism, That, as he alledg'd, all the World ought to approve of. The Archbishop of
Paris,
who had not much time to peruse it, being much taken up in the exercise of his Episcopal Office, thought he might keep the Manuscript as long as he would, especially considering, that the Archbishop of
Cambray
had promis'd not to put it to the Press till the Bishop of
Meaux
's Book was Published. But he would needs have it again, and the Archbishop of
Paris
gave it him, after he had shewn him two or three Chapters that he thought proper to be lick'd over again. But, after all, this Book was Published before the Bishop of
Meaux
's; and the Author having thus broke his word to the Archbishop of
Paris,
fell out both with him and the other Prelate. The Bishop of
Chartres
joyn'd with them in representing to the King the pernicious Consequences that would insue upon the toleration of that New Doctrine. His Majesty having spoke of it to the Archbishop of
Cambray,
that Prelate pretended to maintain, that he had said nothing in his Book, but what was conformable to the Tradition of the Church; and that he was willing to refer the matter to
Rome,
and submit to their decision. The King not being qualify'd to judge of these things himself, was oblig'd to strike Sail to such a plausible submission: But the other three Prelates being still at his Ear, remonstrated to him, That 'twas not proper for the Royal Off-spring to be under the Conduct of a Man that was so notoriously suspected of Heresie. This gave His Majesty such an Alarm, that he ordered the Archbishop of
Cambray
to retire to his Archbishoprick. In the mean time, the Cause was transferr'd to
Rome,
as being the only Tribunal capable to determine a Question of that Nature. Each of the Parties endeavour'd to make Friends in that place. Mr.
Bossuet
sent his Nephew thither, who, by the Interest he had beyond others, might be capable to put his Orders in Execution. The Archbishop of
Cambray
sent likewise a Person that he confided in, tho' his greatest hopes depended upon Cardinal
Bouillon,
who was his particular Friend. He order'd him to prolong the Affair as much as possible, that he might have time to set things in a clear light, and to give His Holiness to understand, that the opposition he met with proceeded more from a party concern, than from a Religious Zeal. In the mean while, Madam
Guyon
's Principles were found in the Royal Abbey of St.
Lewis
at St.
Cir,
and a discovery was made, that some Nuns were so influenc'd by 'em, that they were downright Quietists. Madam
Maintenon
was mightily troubled at this, she being the Person to whom the Nobility of
France
owes the Erecting of that Religious House, in which they have the opportunity of being rid of their Daughters for a time, and sometimes for ever: And what troubled her yet more, a Nun that was her particular Favourite, was one of the poyson'd number. However, the King transplanted 'em to other Convents, to prevent their infecting of the rest. This Sect which had been extinct at
Rome
from the Condemnation of
Molinos,
began to revive there, when the Abettors understood, that it still had footing beyond the
Alps,
and even that an Archbishop had openly declar'd himself a Protector of it. Such was the conformity of their Sentiments with his, that they cry'd up whatever he advanc'd; and tho' they did not know him, and indeed had scarce ever heard of him, yet the whole City was presently fill'd with several Writings, in which they not only applauded his Doctrine, but made an infinite number of
Panegyricks
upon his Person, as if they had been intimately acquainted with him. The Archbishop of
Cambray
being acquainted with all that pass'd at
Rome
by an Express he had sent thither, did not nevertheless confide so much in them, as to abstain from Writing himself: For he sent 'em several Papers by way of Letters, in which he explain'd the Objections made against his Book, in order to rectifie the consequences that might be drawn from thence. In the mean time, nothing was said to Madam
Guyon,
nor to the Archbishop's Friends that were about the Children of
France.
Among these was the Abbot of
Beaumont
his Nephew, to whom he had procur'd the place of being Sub-praeceptor to the young Princes, and who had always acted up to the Duty of his Post. In regard 'tis natural for a Nephew to adhere to his Uncle, and that the obligation he had receiv'd from his Uncle, suggested a Presumption, that he would not easily depart from his Interest, the King was sollicited to disgrace him. 'Twas represented to His Majesty, That the Young Princes were not safe under his Conduct, no more than under his Uncle's; and that tho' he had not publickly taken up with his Errors, yet 'twas to be fear'd he might suck in their Contagion. The King thought it an unjust thing, upon a simple suspicion, to turn a Man out of his Post, that could not be convicted of any Crime. He was resolv'd to see farther into the matter before he would condescend to any such thing. Thus was he continued in his place, and his Enemies were forc'd to wait for a more favourable opportunity to ruine him.
While the Bishops were thus making War one with another, two Ecclesiastick Orders were reconcil'd, that had not always liv'd in a good understanding; I mean the Jesuits and the Priests of the Oratory, who upon several occasions have demonstrated to the World, that they are not always of the same Opinion. The Doctor of St.
Martha,
a Person of great Merit, distinguishing Piety, and profound Learning, was turn'd out from being General of the Priests of the Oratory, by the intrigues of the Jesuits, supported by the late
de Chanvallon,
Archbishop of
Paris.
To pry into what was done in that Society, the Jesuits, as well as the Archbishop, had got a false Brother there, who gave 'em notice of every thing, so that no-body could imagine how the discovery came; for he was so disguis'd, that he was taken for the greatest Zealot of all the Brethren. An Archbishoprick was promis'd him in recompence for his Service, and the Good Fathers were as good as their word in due time, that is, when they found another of their Society, that promis'd to perform what he did. The conferring of a Bishoprick upon this Traitor, rais'd a suspicion in that Society; but since it might be attributed to something else than the true Cause, that was not enough for a true Conviction. At that time the Traitor of St.
Martha
was not yet depos'd; he continuing his steady Course, quickly observ'd that there were Traitors among them, tho' he did not determine whether the Bishop or another. However, that Bishop being removed from thence, the simpler sort of People looked upon that as a vindication of him, tho' the more sensible part of Mankind did not excuse him the more for that. They fancy'd what was true, that he had given his Place to another, who would be equally zealous upon the prospect of the like Recompence. They were in the right of it; for they did nothing but what the Archbishop and the Jesuits knew: However they did not trouble themselves, being sensible that they did nothing but what was to be done. In the mean time, the Doctor of St.
Martha
had occasion to have some business with the Archbishop; and one day when he had his Audience, that Prelate put him into his Closet, till he had finish'd a Conference with a person upon a business of Consequence. As soon as the Doctor enter'd the Closet, he spy'd upon the Table, among other Papers, one that he knew to be the Hand of one of his Priests; and having the curiosity to know what it was, found it to be an account he gave the Archbishop of a thing that had been privately concerted among them. This Paper he put in his Pocket, thinking the Archbishop would not perceive that 'twas he that took it, and carry'd it home, after finishing the Affair he came upon. Immediately upon his return he consulted with those of his Society, that he knew would be faithful in keeping the secret, whether or not he should shew this Paper to him that wrote it. Some were against the shewing of it, because that would give the Archbishop to know, that 'twas he that took it; but others thought this no inconveniency; nay, on the con
ary, they thought they were oblig'd to shew that they knew both the Traitor and the Treachery. The Father joyn'd with the last, and accordingly took aside the writer of the Paper that was then in his Pocket, and check'd him for what he had done. The writer offer'd to deny the Fact, fancying that he spoke only by suspicion. Then the Father of St.
Martha
advis'd him in a Christian manner, not to add a Lye to his former Fault, and withal acquainted him, that he knew all the particulars, for which reason 'twas in vain for him to offer to disguise any thing. The treacherous Brother was of the same Humour with those, who, when once they have advanc'd a thing, could rather see it cut in peices, than lop any thing of it: For in pursuance of their Temper, he insisted still upon the Negative. But the General not being able longer to bear his impudent Lying, produc'd the writing out of his Pocket, and prov'd the Charge against him by his own hand Writing. The Traitor was mightily surpriz'd at the appearance of the Paper; having then nothing more to say, all his reserve was to cry out upon the Archbishop for ruining him entirely, by giving his Paper to the General. The Archbishop made Oath that it did not come that way; and well he might, since it was discover'd as above. However, the Archbishop smelling from thence, that the Father had snatch'd up that Paper when he was in the Closet, advis'd the false Brother not to be concern'd, for that he would procure the Royal Protection for him, in case his Society offer'd to affront him. In effect, the Society of which he was a Member design'd to expel him; but the Archbishop prohibited them in the King's Name, to think of it; so that he continued among these Priests, and does to this day. In the mean time the Archbishop could not forget the Trick that the Father of St.
Martha
had plaid him. That joyn'd with other things, gave the Archbishop an opportunity of representing him to the King as a Jansenist, and imploying the Royal Authority to depose him. Father
de la Tour,
the present General of that Order, was elected in his room, and deserv'd that Post upon several accounts, especially by reason of his singular Piety, and distinguishing Zeal. The Jesuits oppos'd his Election under hand, alledging, That he was as much a Jansenist as the Father of St.
Martha.
Several things were offer'd towards his justification; but that very thing that was design'd for his further Ruine, prevented his exclusion. He was Confessor to one Madam
de Fond Pertuis,
that was a zealous Devotee to Mr.
Arnaud,
insomuch that she went to
Flanders
several times during the last War. This new General having advice of this, prohibited her to return to
Flanders
again, unless she chose another Confessor. But she did not stand to go thither once more, in spite of his order to the contrary. However he did not offer to enquire further into her Conduct; but the thing being heard of at Court; the King saw plainly that he was not so much a Jansenist as he was represented
to be, in regard he censur'd that Lady's adhering to one that was reckon'd the head of that Sect. Thus was his exclusion prevented; and the Jesuits finding what a good Opinion the King had of him, invited him to P
ch a
a solemn Festival in the Church of St.
Louis.
He return'd their Complement by desiring them to single out one of their Society to Preach before the Priests of the Oratory, upon the day of another solemn Festival. Thus was the Reconciliation brought about, that I spoke of but now. But, after all, I doubt if the Jesuits were cordial in the matter; for this General had for some time indeavour'd to stifle their Practice. A great many Ladies of Quality that us'd to confess to Father
Bourdaloux,
or some of their Society, desir'd that he might be their Director. Among others the Dutchess of
Aumont
deserted them, and put in with him: And this being a Practice that seldom passes with impunity among Directors, would have eterniz'd the Quarrel between the two Companies, if the Jesuits, who have fully as much Policy as Learning, had not thought it proper to take no farther notice of it. At this day Father
de la Tour
Preaches in their Church; but as he is not equal to many of 'em, either in Gracefulness or Eloquence, so they did not stand to give him the precedency as to the Direction of Consciences, because he, for his part, was oblig'd to stoop to them in the way of Preaching. Madam
Harlai,
the Plenipotentiary's Lady, had become one of his Penitents, ever after she had the happiness to be convinc'd, that it was impossible to work her Salvation in this World, if she liv'd as most Women now a days do: But being as fond of Gaming as ever her Husband could be, particularly of
Lansquenet,
which is as bewitching as
Bassette,
insomuch, that when Women are once seiz'd with a Passion for it, they'll rather sell their Smock than abstain from it: This Lady, I say, being such a passionate Lover of that Game, that 'twas to be fear'd she might relapse into her old vomit, by frequenting publick Company every day; This Director gave her four of his other Penitents to have an eye upon her. These Spies reliev'd one another under the pretence of keeping her Company; and she was the less sensible of the Design, because they were all four much of her Age and Condition. One, indeed was of a higher Birth than she, as being the Widow of a Son of the Blue-Ribbon, one of whose Ancestors had been a Marshal of
France.
For, notwithstanding that the Lawyers have a great value for their Character, especially when their Magistracy gives as great a distinction as the Family of
Harlai
is possessed of; yet 'tis certain, that there's a great deal of difference between th
Gown and the Sword, when the latter is attended with distinguishing Circumstances. This Lady had been the Marchioness of St.
Valeri.
As for her own Family she was a
Bullion,
that is to say, the Daughter of the Marquis of
Mon Lovet;
a Marquis indeed of a late standing, but of a golden Nobility; for he was the Son of Mr.
de Bullion,
Superintendant of the Finances, who left three Children, among which the descendants of the Eldest were only capable to keep his Riches; as for the other two, their Posterity has no resemblance of the Superintendant that was once in their Family; they are as poor as Devils, and the third of these Children commenc'd his misery in their Life: time, by making an unlucky Marriage. He fell in Love with his Mother's Woman, and Married her, upon whch his Mother disinherited him. After he had quench'd his Passion with Enjoyment, he quickly became sensible of his Fault; but 'twas then too late to think of a Remedy. However, being very much troubled for the loss of such a fine Succession, he left
Lions,
where he was wont to live, and came to
Paris;
having first instructed his Wife in what she was to do towards the backing of his Design. The Orders he gave her, were, to go into the Country, and spread a Report in the City, that she was at the Point of Death: Now, it being customary in all places to inlarge Reports as they spread, the whole City of
Lions
was presently fill'd with the noise, not only of the Lady's sham Illness, but even of her Death. Her Husband, who had been hitherto frustrated in all his attempts towards the regaining of his Mother's Favour, knowing how cases stood at
Lions,
went into deep mourning, and so repaired to St.
Eustache,
where his Mother commonly went. He cast himself, as 'twere, accidentally in her way; and she seeing him in such a Garb, had the curiosity to inform herself under hand, of the Reason of it; for she would not speak to him herself. Her followers being perswaded that his Wife was Dead, told her, what they heard of the matter; upon which she gave her Son's Relations and Friends to know, That forasmuch as the occasion of the difference between her and him was gone, she would not keep Anger longer. She invited him to come and see her; and the Deed by which he was disinherited being tore, he found ways and means to retain her Friendship, insomuch, that she not only pardon'd his Marriage, but likewise his abusing of her Credulity, in making her believe that his Wife was Dead.
Madam
Harlai
's three other Keepers were the Attorney General's Lady, Madam
Harouis,
and Madam
Chateaurenard.
This last was the handsomest of all the four, but had not been always so devout as they, for she was mightily taken up in the way of the World: But the disgrace of her Husband's Family, with some other melancholy Circumstances that are not uncommon in the way of Life, oblig'd her to pursue a course that might screen her from all disquiet; so that she became so very pious, that her Piety was a pattern for those who had grown old in the pursuit of it, before ever she thought of such a course of Life. Her Husband was the Son of the late Mr.
Dacquin,
the King's first Physician, who not being satisfied with the Estate he had, occasion'd his own Banishment from the Court, by importuning the King with unseasonable Requests: Nay, he was so bold, as to represent to His Majesty, that his Services were at least equal to any that could be done of what nature soever; and in effect, that since his Life was to him the most precious and dear thing in the World, 'twas an obvious consideration, that the person who preserv'd it by his Prescriptions, was not be despised. Before he ventur'd upon such Discourses, that is, while he observ'd the measures of Respect, due to His Majesty; both he and his Family had a thousand liberal Gifts conferr'd upon 'em. His Majesty had made his Eldest Son Secretary of his own Closet, and an honorary Counsellor of the Parliament, a favour that is not promiscuously granted; and besides all this, he was Intendant of the Generality of
Moulins.
When this Honour was conferr'd upon him, he was scarce twenty five Years old. But immediately upon his Father's beginning to talk so high, he was included in his Father's Disgrace, and recall'd. The Name of
Chateaurenard
which he bore, was the Title of an Estate he bought from Mr.
Amat,
the Son of a famous Farmer of the Revenues. This
Amat,
who scarce understood his Interest so well as his Father, discover'd upon his first imbarking in the World, that Gaming was his only delight; and upon that score, several Sharpers Courted him in hopes to have part of the Riches left him by his Father. Among others, an Ensign of the Life-Guard had
pretty good success; for he won of him a large sum in ready Money, and another upon tick. But that sort of Commerce being the King's aversion, and the Ensign being better vers'd in shuffling the Cards, than in unsheathing his Sword for the King's Service; Upon these considerations, he was broke when His Majesty purg'd the Companies of their scandalous Members. The above-mentioned Estate belonged formerly to a very good Family of that Name. It had once a Castle upon it that serv'd to over-awe the
Burgundians,
when they were under the Dukes of
Burgundy,
who were the greatest Enemies that ever the Kings of
France
had; notwithstanding that they had the honour to spring from their Blood. The Heir of that Family having done something in opposition to the King's Interest; his Estate was forfeited and reunited to the Royal Demesnes. The Family of
Chatillon Coligni,
whose Possessions were adjacent to that Estate, bought it of the King as lying conveniently for them, and kept it a great many Years, till
William
Prince of
Orange
Married
Louise de Coligni,
the Daughter of Admiral
de Coligni,
who bears so great a Figure in our History; by which means it pass'd into the House of
Nassau,
and there continued till the Princes of
Orange,
the present King of
England
's Mother, sold it as her Son's Guardian to Mr.
Amat
Farmer of the Revenues. At this day the Arms of the Princes of
Orange
are placed in the most eminent part of the City, if it be allowable to call a Place a City, that is only a Hole, and that one of the most wretched Holes in the Universe. But let it be as it will, the Inhabitants of that Hole or Town, call it which you will, thinking to ingratiate themselves at Court in the beginning of the last War, by setting forth their hatred of King
William,
intreated the Marquis of
Louvois
by a Letter, to allow 'em to take down these Arms. But such a Request deserving no Answer, that Minister gave 'em none; and thus were the Arms preserv'd from their mistaken Zeal; so that they stand to this day where they were plac'd an Age ago.
At that time the Bishop of
Dax
Died; and his Death robb'd the publick of his History of the King, which he was carrying on, upon the precedent of Mr.
Perefixe
's History of
Henry
IV. He thought it became a Bishop to undertake that sort of performance. But after all, if he had employ'd his time in finishing the History of the Church begun by Mr.
Godeau;
that Province, as I take it, had been more suitable to his Character. However, he search'd every corner for the finding of Memoirs to answer his Design. And not long before his Death, I saw him come to one of my Friends, that had belong'd to Cardinal
Mazarin,
to know of him, whether the late King of
England
was present at the Negotiation of Peace, carry'd on by that Minister, with
Don Louis de Haro,
in 1659. Upon his departure, my Friend acquainted me with the occasion of his Visit; which was to me a mighty surprisal, for that all the World knows, that
that
Prince would have been there, but that his Eminence would not allow of it. The Reason he went upon, was, That he fear'd the disobliging of
Richard
the Son of
Cromwel,
who had been declar'd Protector of
England
after his Father's Death. So that
that
Prince who had advanc'd within six Leagues of the place where the Conferences were held, was oblig'd to return. My Lord
Bath,
whom he had sent to know if his Presence would be acceptable, receiv'd this Answer, That 'twas not proper for him to appear there; and that the above-mentioned Minister would still take the same care of his Interest. But had the Prince been so simple as to trust him, and take no other measures, he had been in a fair way of never mounting his Throne. The Bishop I mention'd but now, had resign'd his Bishoprick a great while ago, perhaps in order to have the more leisure to pursue his History: 'Tis probable he thought to out-do
Racine,
or
Boileau;
but I question if he should have succeeded: If his Talent lay that way, I must say that it was a hidden one; for he was never found to be capable of doing much.
Had the Marquis of
Rouville,
who was eighty Years old, died as he did, he had not sustain'd so great a loss, because he had not any History upon the Stocks; but instead of Dying, the old Gentleman acted the part of a very Lively Man, and one that had no mind to die so soon. He commenc'd a suit against his Relations, who mean'd to interdict him, under the pretence that he was very old; and having always been an ill Husband, there was no hopes of his growing better in his old days. Had the late Prince been still alive, and sate as his Judge, he had not only given it for his Adversaries, but order'd him to be Imprison'd; for he us'd to say, that if there had been two
es
in
France,
he would not scruple to leave it for his Life-time. His meaning was, That he was the most troublesome Man in the World: which was also the Opinion of a good many People, who, in imitation of this Prince, did not satisfie themselves with Trifles. He chose rather the Condition of one of his own Men in a
Corner, at
Chantilly,
than to be oblig'd to hear such an idle Fellow speak; nor did he stand to say, that he was far less uneasie with his Pullets, and the other Creatures that he kept in his Managry, and visited twice a day, than he would be with Men of his Character. Yet it was a strange manner of Occupation for a Prince, so famous for having gain'd so many Battels, and whose very first Essays in War had equal'd the Actions of those that grew old in the Trade. The Enterprize of
Barcelona
was still in hand, as well as the design to have the Prince of
Conti
chosen King of
Poland;
and the Court was exceeding diligent to bring both the Affairs to a happy Issue. The one was, indeed, more easier than the other, tho' both appeared very hard; at least, there was some reason to judge the latter more easie than the former, because all they had to do, was, to spare no money to make it succeed; they were only to gain the Votes of those who are always for the highest Bidder; for as that is the Harvest of the
Poles,
who reap nothing when they have a King upon the Throne; so it is long since they own'd their resemblance of the
Swiss,
in regard nothing is to be done with them without money. The Prince of
Conti
had sent thither already two hundred thousand Crowns of his own, and the King for his part, who would have reap'd a great advantage, by obtaining that Crown for the Prince, sent fourtimes as much. Abbot
Polignac,
the King's Ambassador at that Court, distributed the money amongst those he had engag'd in his Party, and taking that Election to depend intirely upon Cardinal
Radzionwski,
Archbishop of
Gnesne,
who by virtue of this last Dignity, was Prince and Regent of the Kingdom, during the vacancy of the Throne,
lavish'd his money upon him, while he thought it sufficient to feed others with fine Promises. But the Generals of the Army of the Crown, and the
Lithua
ian
Troops, who were equally sharp set with the Cardinal, did not find their Account in that sort of management; neither were the
Palatines
satisfied, forasmuch as they thought their Swords deserv'd to be considered no less than the Cardinal's Mitre. Abbot
Polignac
had disguis'd his Project for a long time, and made the Queen
Dowager
of
Poland,
believe, that the King, his Master, had only put up the Prince of
C
nti
by way of Provision, in case there were no other in whom he could confide. Besides that, the Prince of
Conti
was very-indifferent upon the matter; and if he consented to it, 'twas rather to please the King, than to gratifie his Inclination. So far he said well; and that Prince who was passionately fond of
France,
was afraid of nothing more, than to hear that he was elected King of
Poland.
But as for His Majesty, he was of another mind, for he desir'd nothing more earnestly than to see the Crown upon that Prince's Head, by reason of the advantage he expected from thence. The Queen
Dowager
being, like most people, easily perswaded to believe what she wish'd gave credit to the insinuations of Abbot
Polignac.
She took a great deal of pains to justifie to him her Conduct, in what she had done for several Years against the King's Interest; and gave him to know, that His Majesty had for
'd her to it by his ill usage; and that whenever His Majesty pleas'd to alter his measur
s with reference to her, she would really shew, that she d
r'd nothing more than the restoring of the good understanding that had been betwixt the two Crowns in the beginning of the Reign of the King her late Husband. She continued to repre
rt, That i
His Majesty would vouchsafe his P
ction to Prince
James
her Son, whom she mean
d to prefer to the Throne, as soon as he a
vd at that Dignity, he should do every thing in
with His Majesty's pleasure; and that His Majesty ought not to fear that the Alliance he had concluded with a suspected Family, would oblige him to counteract his Interest; that he knew well, that Princes have but little regard for their Wive's Relations, at a time when either their Glory or Grandure are in view; and that her Son would continue in an inseparable Union with his Crown, insomuch that he would put the Service of His Majesty upon the same ballance with his own.
These words were very acceptable to the Abbot of
Polignac,
who knew, that a Reconciliation between two Parties is the more sincere, when both sides are eager in justifying their past Conduct. Nay, he pretended to have some sense of the justness of her Complaints against the King, in order to insinuate himself more effectually into her Breast. In fine, he agreed with her to transfer all the Votes for the Prince of
Conti
to her Son; and upon that consideration she promis'd to use her utmost efforts in taking off
Sapieha,
great General of
Lith
ania,
from the House of
Austria,
the Interest of which he seem'd to espouse very warmly.
Sapieha
was extream powerful in that Dutchy, and was rather Master than General of it, possessing vast Territories, and great Charges in it, which was the reason that every one trembled under him. The Abbot of
Polignac
had no other design in it, but to weaken the party of the House of
Austria,
flattering himself with the Thoughts, that Prince
James
his Party would never be able to make Head against his own; for he was very far from thinking to keep his word to the Queen, and all he said to h
, was only to the end he might the more easily deceive her. Nevertheless she was so credulous, that to assure him the better of the Confidence she had in him, she sent him her Picture, which he seem'd to have desir'd very earnestly. He set it up in the most conspicuous place of his Chamber, to make her the better believe how much he esteem'd it. However, that Princess acted nothing but in concert with him. She endeavour'd to take off
Sapieha
from the House of
Austria. Sapieha
did not deceive her in the least. He told her freely, That he was so engag'd in the Interest of that Family, that there was but one thing that could oblige him to quit it, and that was, to have the Crown set upon his own Head, and that it was in her power to contribute to it, if she pleas'd: That she should only joyn her Interest, with that he could make for himself; which if she pleas'd to consent to, he would infallibly set her upon the Throne with him; for that he being a Widdower and she a Widdow, nothing could hinder them from Marrying. The Queen
Dowager,
however earnest she was to Reign, did not at all relish that Proposal. She knew
Sapieha
's Spirit, who tho' he would have kept his Promise to her, yet would hardly have allow'd her the very shadow of the Kingly Power, while he himself would manage the whole without Controul. She had had already two Husbands, over whom she had always a great ascendant, and now she did not pretend to degenerate in the least from what she had always been, tho' she was passed the time of inspiring any new Flames.
The House of
Austria,
in imitation of that of
France,
caus'd the Ministers which they had at that Court, to act so secretly, that it was impossible, even for the most clear sighted, to pry into their Conduct. There was hardly any one who did not believe that their design was to advance Prince
James
to the Throne. The honour▪ he had in being Brother-in-Law to the Emperor and the King of
Spain,
confirm'd them in their Thoughts. However, that House had quite a different inclination. They mistrusted the Queen of
Poland,
whose Actions they were no strangers to, and knowing that she had sent Money into
France,
they look'd upon her as a Woman that had been always inclin'd that way. They knew that the
French
have always a secret inclination for their Country, which never dies but with their last Breath. Besides, they knew that Princess had a certain ascendant over her Son, that would assure her of the Reins of the Government, if ever they set the Crown upon his Head. However, all these Reasons were more than sufficient to oblige the Emperor and the King of
Spain
to prefer their own Interests, to that of their Brother-in-Law, who was a Prince upon whom they could not rely very much; for he was far short of the qualities of the King his Father. They cast their Eyes upon a Person very worthy of that Crown. The Duke of
Saxony,
a young Prince, who had distinguished himself to a great degree in the Wars the Emperor had against the Infidels, and whom he had set at the Head of his Army, seem'd to both of them to be the Man. His Imperial Majesty labour'd to remove a difficulty that oppos'd their design. The Duke was of the
Lutheran
Religion, and ever in some measure considered as the head of all that Party, because it was one of his Ancestors that afforded a Retreat to
Luther,
and who, after having embrac'd his Doctrine, undertook also his protection against the Emperor, who pretended to have him punished, because he dar'd to Preach a New Religion. It is truly astonishing, why his Imperial Majesty and the King of
Spain,
would not rather endeavour to chuse the Duke of
Bavaria,
who was Son-in-Law to the one, and Nephew to the other, he being also a Catholick, which was a necessary Quality for the King of
Poland:
Besides, he was much Richer than the Duke of
Saxony,
and that is no mean quality to be considered in a design of that Nature: But whether that Elector was altogether indifferen
or whether the two Princes judged it necessary to continue him in the Government of
Flanders,
they fix'd intirely upon the other Duke. The Emperor propos'd the matter to him, and told him, that it should only be long of his Religion, if the Affair did not succeed▪ The Duke found the thing of too great a Consequence to determine suddenly. However charming the proposition was; he consider'd the Condition they annexed to it was too weighty for him. He demanded some time to give his Answer; and the Emperor judged, that because he listned already, all would have a favourable Issue if he press'd him never so little. He began to infinuate to him, that both the first
Calvinists
and
Lutherans
had always believ'd, that one might as well be sav'd in the Catholick Religion, as in Theirs; and that the Crown they propos'd to him, was certainly well worth all the trouble they asked of him; and at the same time made him converse with a number of Doctors, that pushed the Affair a great deal further, and alledg'd a great many Reasons to prove, that the Catholick Religion was the only true Religion, and that which had been always profess'd in the Church.
The Bright lustre of the Crown of
Poland,
made the Duke relish their admirable Reasons; and some Ministers who conferr'd before him with these Doctors (tho' neither the one nor the other knew to what purpo
e all this was doing) agreed, that according to the Explication the Catholicks make now adays of their Faith, it was void of all manner of Venom; so that the Duke was more than half perswaded to go all the length they desir'd of him. The Catholick Doctors hearing the Ministers speak after that manner, That the Prince might harbour no further scruple in his mind, alledg'd, that nonehad ever explain'd their Faith after any other manner than what they do at present, excepting some sort of People that were glad to make others believe some different Thing; that one might only read the Council of
Trent
to know the truth of it; and that all those of their Religion had no other Doctrine, than such as was taught there. The Duke was glad that they prepared for him the way he desir'd; being inform'd by the Emperor, that his Intrigues in
Poland
were so strongly laid, that his Enemies would find it hard to overturn them. There was nothing that diswaded him so much from making a profession of that Religion, as the fear that his hopes would prove abortive. Accordingly, being a Man of precaution, he promis'd to the Emperor to perform all they desir'd of him, upon the proviso of the certainty of his Election: Now, this assurance that he demanded, was a very difficult Point, because it depended upon the Votes of a great many People that were capable of falsifying their words. The very Bishop of
Cujavia,
tho' he headed the Interest of the House of
Austria,
shew'd no great resolution in determining who he should Vote for, notwithstanding he had already taken of his Money. He design'd to make use of that Election as a means to make himself a Cardinal; and was sensible; that whatsoever side was prefer'd, he would meet with invincible Obstacsle to his pretensions. The Bishop of
Passaw
waited only to see the Emperor's Success, in order to make a Proposal for the succession to that Crown. He being Brother to the Empress, the Bishop of
Cujavia
was convinc'd that he would be too hard for him; and that upon that score the same thing would be said to him, that upon the like occasion was formerly said to the Coadjutor of
Paris.
Cardinal
Mazarin
had formerly promis'd to invest him with the Purple, upon the proviso of some things that were mutually concerted; but he forfeited this promise, the Cardinal desir'd the Prince of
Conti
to procure the nomination of another. The Bishop of
Cujavia
fearing, and that very justly, that the same thing might happen to him, would gladly have gone over to the
French
side, if he had not been jealous of the Abbot of
Polignac,
whom he took to be of such a Temper, as not to give up the pretentions he equally made to the Cardinal's Cap. In this quandary he caus'd some to feel his Pulse, to try if he would quit his Pretentions; but the Abbot being as fond of the preferment as he, thought his request very indiscreet, and neglected the King's Interest in carrying on his own. In effect, had he resign'd his Pretentions to this Prelate, he had, by that means, joyn'd the Prelate's Interest to his own, and had certainly procur'd the Election of the Prince of
Conti.
But he fancied, that by the Primat's Assistance, and by the help of some Money he still expected from
France,
he would compass his design without him.
The Bishop perceiving how confident he was of his good Success, since he despis'd his Offers, which any other would have valued at a far higher rate than what he demanded of him, endeavour'd to cast in some difference betwixt Him and the Queen of
Poland.
He caus'd inform that Princess, that she would be extreamly impos'd upon, if she rely'd upon his Promises, and advis'd her to have some better security of him, than his word, unless she had a mind to leave room for a future Repentance. The Queen, who was naturally suspicious, resolved to make her advantage of this advice; and that she might have the more confidence in
Polignac's
Expressions, she desir'd that he might procu
e for her the King's Letter, by which she might be assur'd of what his Majesty was pleas'd to
quaint her by his Ambassador. The Abbot put her in hopes of it, designing to elude her, whenever she urg'd him too close to make good his Promise. In the mean time he wrote to
France,
that Affairs went fairly for the Prince of
Conti:
But if they design'd to make the success not only probable, but infallible, they should not
ail to send him a considerable sum of Money. The Court of
France
was never in greater necessity than at that time; having resolv'd to attack
Barcelona,
they were equipping a strong Fleet in
Provence,
that put them to a vast Expence: Besides, they were considerably exhausted to procure a Peace from their Enemies, that at that time was so necessary to them; all their Provinces were ruin'd by the War; and tho' other States were hardly in better Circumstances, yet they were affraid, that the Subjects would scarce be any longer capable of bearing so heavy a Charge.
They had been a long time resolv'd (as is already mention'd) upon the design of
Barcelona,
in hopes that the
Spaniards,
who alone with the Emperor oppos'd the Peace, would change their Sentiments, when they saw themselves attack'd even in the very Bowels. For tho' that place, be upon the Frontiers of
France,
yet there being only two or three places of strength betwixt it and
Madrid,
it was not doubted, but that Conquest would Alarm them much more than the loss of four better places in
Flanders.
But after all, tho' these Reasons pleaded for carrying on the attack without any delay, it was nevertheless put off for some time upon important Considerations. The very Inhabitants of
Marseilles
oppos'd it's Bombardment, in regard they had a great many effects in it, which would have been lost, if it had been reduc'd to Ashes. They made a considerable Present to the Court, to procure a due regard to their Interest: But at last, all the Considerations that retarded the Seige,
being taken away, it was discours'd on more warmly than ever.
This Enterprize could not be carried on without a great deal of Charge, as I intimated before; but the Court that is seldom sensible of the publick miseries, and had a Minister that found the Mistery, to raise as much Money as they pleas'd without overcharging the People, thought that this ought not to hinder them from bringing their Enemies to a Compliance. In effect, the Provinces were rather miserable, because they wanted Hands to labour the Ground, than that they were overcharg'd by exorbitant Imposts: So that His Majesty, who was still full of Money, notwithstanding all these immense Expences, thought fit to satisfie the Abbot of
Polignac,
in regard that he assur'd them, there was nothing else wanting to make all have a prosperous Success: So that he sent him not only the sum he desir'd, but four hundred thousand Livers over and above; that if he came to fail in his Negotiation, he should not blame an unseasonable Parcimony. The Queen of
Poland
seeing him receive so large remittances, and distribute them according to the Cardinal's Advice; found him very remote from her Interest, and began to be extream jealous of his Conduct. She had reason to suspect, that he only thought to amuse her; and as the esteem they had of the Prince of
Conti,
in that Kingdom, was far superior to that they had for Prince
James
her Son, she began to press the Abbot upon the assurances of his Promise. He shifted it, by telling her sometimes, that the King being now ready to begin the Campaign, had no time to think of any thing else; at other times, that the King expected that if he brought over to the party of Prince
James,
the Voices he had gain'd for the Prince of
Conti,
she would be pleas'd to repay him the Money he had sent into that Country, for making the Party.
The Queen's Council could hardly blame so just an offer, but distrusting that it was only a pretence of the Ambassador's to delay Affairs, advis'd the Queen to yield to him in that Article; for if he meant to be ingenuous, the Prince her Son could never fail of the Crown. The Queen believed her Council; and she herself communicated it to the Abbot; but that Ambassador being now at a loss what to Answer, thought fit to propose to her something concerning his own particular Interest. He told her, that during the life of the King her Husband, he had the promise of the Court, that if he got the Prince of
Conti
to be chosen King, he should allow him to name whom he pleased for the Cardinal Dignity; that he expected she would be pleas'd to stipulate the same thing with her Son, that all his pains migh
not be fruitless; That there were some Prelats in her Son's Interest, who had the same pretentions, in case he were chosen King, and that he desir'd they might resign in his favour: That Her Majesty ought not to take it ill, that he should require this of her; for perhaps in his Lifetime he should not have so favourable an opportunity to arrive to that honourable Dignity.
As soon as the Queen's Council heard him talk after that manner, they were the more confirmed in their Sentiments of him: However, to cut off all opportunities to make use of that difficulty, they us'd their Interest with the Prelats that were of Prince
James
his Party, to resign what the Abbot desir'd; which they did in consideration of the promises the Queen had made to them; and that Princess acquainting the Ambassador with it, he pretended all went well; and that all that remain
d
e done now, was, to reimburse the sums he
advanced, o
which he had the Accounts readvly by him: Now He had not propos'd that as to be done presently; all he desir'd before, was, That when Prince
James
should be chosen, the Queen and He should be oblig'd to make that Restitution. So all that were in the Interest of the Queen, finding that he had only altered his Conduct, the better to amuse her, judged it expedient, that Her Majesty should not only break off all measures with him, but do it also very openly. Their Reason was, That as
France
had it's Enemies as well as Partisans, the secret Union which they suspected she entertained with him, hindred those who had openly declared themselves against
France,
to imbrace her Interest. The Queen believ'd them, and after once sounding the Abbot of
Polignac
touching his last Resolution, she made him sensible, That she was no more of an humour to be amus'd. She wrote a Letter also to the Marchioness of
Bethunes,
to be deliver'd to his most Christian Majesty. In it she complains of the Abbot's disengenuity; and how uselesly he lavish'd the King's Money; for however powerful he believ'd his Interest, it was no ways capable to equal that of the House of
Austria,
except they joyn'd it with hers. This Marchioness was Sister to the Queen, and both of them were Daughters to the Marquis of
Arquien,
who was Captain of the Duke of
Orlean
's hundred
Swiss,
and afterwards Cardinal, by the Nomination of the late King of
Poland.
The late Princess
Mary
of
Gonsague,
had carried that Queen with her into
Poland,
when she herself went thither in the same quality, being Married to
Ladislaus,
who then possess'd that Crown. She had taken her for one of her Maids of Honour; and the Prince
Lubomirsky
falling in Love with her, as well as
Sobiesky,
who was afterwards her Husband, the Queen declar'd herself in favour of the first, because he was by far the greater Prince of the two. In the mean time
Lubomirsky
dying a little after, and the Affairs of that Country proving unfavourable for
Casimir, Ladislaus
his Brother, who was chosen King after
Ladislaus,
and had moreover Married his Widdow, Queen
Mary,
knowing that
Sobiesky
continued always his Affection for Princess
Lubomirsky,
promis'd to procure her for him in Marriage, if he would declare himself for the King her Husband: Which he did, and as he had already gain'd a great Reputation in that Kingdom, his declaring himself was of vast advantage to
Casimir.
However, after a great many different Accidents that are foreign to my Subject,
Casimir
dying without Issue as well as King
Ladislaus
his Brother, and a
French
Prince making interest for the Crown, as well as the present Duke of
Lorain,
his Father; the Bishop of
Marseilles,
who was Ambassador for
France
in that Country, seeing it go cross to the Interest of the Person whom his Master propos'd, chang'd his Conduct very dexterously, and told the
Dyet,
That it was none of their business to Court their Neighbours, for what they might easily find among themselves, provided they were satisfied with it; That
John Sobiesky
was a person very worthy of their Crown, who would govern them with all the prudence and satisfaction that it was possible for any other Prince to do.
Sobiesky
had beat the
Turks
in many Rencounters; and even very lately had rescued the Republick from imminent Danger by a glorious Victory: So that his fresh Services pleading more in his favour than it was possible for the Ambassador of
France
to do, He was chosen King, notwithstanding a former Decree of the Republick, by which they excluded their own Subjects from the Crown.
By these means the Queen of
Poland,
of an ordinary
French
Girl, became Queen. However, tho' her Birth ought to have oblig'd her to all the Respect imaginable for the Crown of
France,
under whose Government she had drawn her first Breath, yet she very soon forgot it, because His most Christian Majesty would not comply with all her desires. The Marquis of
Vitry,
Ambassador of
France,
at that Court, in the King her Husband's time, pass'd his time there very uneasily; and he miss'd been assassinated very narrowly, because she suspected him to be the cause of all the Displeasure she received from the Court of
France.
The King, who made use of the Prince her Husband, as a check over the Emperour and Empire, was oblig'd to conceal his Resentment of that Princess her Conduct. Matters were better adjusted by the moderation and prudence of His most Christian Majesty, and by the secret Reflections that Princess might have had of her injustice to a Prince worthy to govern the Universe. But as it is impossible always to dissemble ones Sentiments, she soon made the breach between Her and His Majesty wider than ever: For being by the Divine Goodness rais'd to so high a Dignity, it vex'd her extreamly, that her Father had no mark of Distinction in his Court: She therefore intreated the King to create him Duke and Peet. The Marquis of
Arquien,
was a person abandon'd to his Pleasures, and became so far a slave to them, that tho' he was advanc'd to a great Age, yet
Wise, but plung'd into Debaucheries that
extreamly upon the honour of his Daughter and gain'd no Reputation to himself, either as Father-in-Law to a great King, or as a Man of Quality. He avowedly kept his Miss, whom he allowed to go by his Name; for she was known by no other, than by that of
Louison D' Arquien;
and that coming often to His Maiesty's Ear, he thought it not very convenient to grant the Queen the Dignity she demanded for her Father
That Repulse was resented with all the Malice Woman is capable of; she obliged the King, her Husband, to discontinue all secret Intelligence with His Majesty; and as the Emperor, at that time, was engaged in a Bloody War against the
Turks,
she incessantly importuned him, until he had concluded an Offensive and Defensive League with His
Imperial
Majesty. The Almighty brought all that to pass for the relief of
Vienna,
which the
Turks
had Besieged; and beyond all peradventure, had also been taken, had not His
Polish
Majesty come to Relieve it. However, so lively and impatient a Princess, could not but shew her resentment much more to the Abbot of
Polignac,
because the present Affair was of far greater consequence, than any thing that had passed formerly; and the World saw, by the violence of her Resentment, that she would continue it all her Life. She sent to him to have her Picture again; and because he refused to restore it, thinking still to amuse her, she immediately sent the same Person, that had formerly spoke to him, to let him know, That if he would not restore it in a friendly manner, she would oblige him to do it by force. The Ambassador, who was sensible how she had treated the Marquis of
Vitry,
would not run the risque of a second refusal He returned her Picture; and seeing the Queen had broke off all measures with him, he observed none with her, but what her Sex and Dignity obliged him to. In the mean time, he distributed some small Money he had received, among the Commanders of the Army of the
Crown,
and of that of
Lithuania.
They thought it convenient to refuse it; but as all he gave them was not capable to satisfie their hungry Appetites, so they were not the more oblig'd by it, to comply with his Design.
An Officer of the Army of the Crown, who was the Elector of
Brandenburg
's Subject, having heard even those who received the Money, vent their Railleries, resolv'd to come and acquaint His Majesty of it at
Versailles,
believing the King would certainly reward him liberally; so quitting his Charge, and leaving that Country expresly, he passed through all
Germany,
and arriving in
Holland,
came to the Marshal
Bo
ffler
's Army, upon the Frontiers of the
Spanish Flanders.
The Officer of the main Guard having stopped him, was inform'd by him, who he was, whence he came, and in some measure, of the nature of his Business; and sent him to the Marshal, to acquaint him of what he was not willing to declare there. This Stranger did not know one Word of
French;
but as he spoke
Latin
to perfection, he made the General easily understand, That he came from
Poland,
and that he had Affairs of moment, relating to that Country; and this is all he would tell him, as if the Marshal had not been worthy of his Secret. The General seeing a Person of an ill mein, that pleaded nothing in his favour, but rather gave him an ill opinion of him, was like to cause him to be taken up; but considering he would do better to send him under a sure Guard to Court, he put him into the hands of an Officer, whom he order'd to take two or three Troopers for his
Escorte.
The Officer went along with him to
Versailles,
where this Man was reputed a Spy, as soon as he offer'd to speak: For after what the Abbot of
Polignac
had Wrote to them, they were fully perswaded, that the Affairs of the Prince of
Conty
went as well as they could wish in that Country; they would not believe a tittle of what he alledg'd, it being quite contrary to
Polignac
's Relation. He told the Secretary of State, to whom the Marshal had sent him, That they were highly mistaken, if they believ'd, that the
Poles
would ever chuse that Prince for their King. They ask'd him the reason; but he not being able to produce any other than that I mention'd but now, it was reckon'd so bad a one, that he was immediately sent to Prison. They were resolv'd to draw up an Indictment against him; but Mons.
D'Argenson,
who was employ'd to Try him, being a Man full of Justice and Equity, had no sooner examin'd him, but he found it plain, that all his Crime consisted in having thought to make his Fortune, by bringing this News. He reported the same thing to the Court; and the Process against this pretended Criminal, consisting only of an Interrogatory or two, it was dropt, till they saw how the Election of
Poland
would go.
The Duke of
Saxony
thought it convenient, in the mean time, to make a faint show of the Catholick Religion, without having the least inclination to it. He saw that it was absolutely necessary for obtaining the Crown of
Poland:
so having brought over to his Interest a Bishop of his own Family, that was of that Religion; this Prelate, at the Emperor's sollicitation, gave him a Certificate, That he had privately Abjured
Lutheranism.
This they shewed secretly to the
Palatines
that were in the
Austrian
Party, who seem'd to have no other view in Corresponding with it, than to advance Prince
James
's Election: At least, the World believ'd so, and
France
was of that opinion, so that they did not dream that ever that Elector had thought in the least of the Crown. The Queen of
Poland
was impos'd upon, as well as others; the
Palatines
delay'd Affairs on purpose, that they might be more courted, and have the opportunity of filling their Purses. The Elector was obliged to borrow Money from all hands, to forward his Interest. The Elector of
Brandenburg
lent him considerable Sums upon a Mortgage of the
Baillages
that lay convenient for him. He likewise rais'd immense Sums in his own Dominions, upon the pretence that being in the Emperor's Service, he wanted the assistance of his own People, because it was not possible for the Emperor to pay the Subsidies they had agreed upon. Moreover, instead of making his Correspondence with the Duke of
Erandenburg
to appear, he feign'd he was at variance with him, upon the account of the Domains that both of them had upon the Confines of
Poland;
and accordingly, both of them march'd thither their Troops, as if they design'd immediately to come to a Rupture.
France
that had too many Enemies to deal with, to be indifferent in desiring to get rid of at least some part of 'em, was catch'd as well in this Snare, as in the former. They were willing to believe, that this would not fail to make a powerful diversion in their favour; and as it was impossible for some part of the
German
Princes to be meer Spectators in the Differences of these two Princes, so they expected a considerable ease upon each side.
The march of these Troops was very cunningly contriv'd, and disprov'd with a witness, what had been publish'd a while ago, to the disadvantage of the
House of Austria.
Some would have it, that for many Years together that Family had been always Trick'd by
France;
and that by observing only their ordinary Course, as if there had been none else more ready and sure to forward their Designs, they had so degenerated from the Wisdom and Greatness of
Charles
V. that all
Europe
had forgot them; but as they manag'd this Intrigue, that was contriv'd at
Vienna,
they were overjoy'd to know that
France
had lost its Pretensions to the
Title.
While these considerable Affairs were transacting in
Poland,
some other Matters pass'd in
France
of less consequence for the State, but in which some particular Persons found themselves more interress'd.
Paris,
that had furnish'd the Scene for that Lady, who had met with so ill usage from her own Domesticks, afforded also the following, which is extraordinary enough to plead for some place in these Annals. It appear'd to me so uncommon, that I doubted for a long time, whether I should insert it. I was sensible, that among so many certain Things as I here present you with, I ought not to run the risque of Writing any that I have reason to suspect: In fine, this Matter has been confirm'd to me by so many Hands, that if I be deceiv'd, it must be, because they took pleasure to impose upon me. I receiv'd six different Letters from
Paris,
that contain'd the same thing; so that, after all the Precautions I us'd, I suppose, that however extraordinary the Matter appears, it may be credited, after the enquiry I have made in it. In effect, if we should doubt of all the surprizing Things
Paris
affords, we must necessarily doubt of all that happens there; for every Day produces such Accidents, as one would hardly believe without infallible Testimony.
A Girl was forc'd to profess, by the uncontrolable Will of Parents, who by this means meant to take her off from the Inclinations she had for a Person, they would not have her Marry; notwithstanding she was shut up, she always continu'd a Respect for him, that troubled her extreamly, in the exercises of her new Profession. Her Lover, for his part, could never forget her; but having seen her put on the Habit, he ought to have laid aside all hopes of ever enjoying her. Yet being always tormented with his Passion, which was so much the more violent, that while the Young Nun continu'd in the way of the World, she gave him all the demonstrations of her Esteem that he could reasonably desire; he robb'd his Father (a Rich Merchant) of Twenty thousand Livres in Gold, Cloath'd himself in a Girl's Habit, and went to the Convent where she was, after having hid himself for a whole Month in the City, pretending to be Sick. His first Compliment to the Convent was, That he was resolv'd to become a Nun. He told 'em, he was come from the Country, and was the Daughter of Parents that had made a considerable Estate by Trafficking; and having shew'd his Treasure to these Nuns, it secur'd him more in their esteem, than any Profession whatsoever.
So extream desirous were they to have it, that they easily dispenc'd with inquiring any farther after the place of her Nativity, or what Faults this disguis'd Girl might be liable to in her Youth. They were satisfy'd, for that she promised them the whole, provided they would Maintain her while she Liv'd. However, she told them, that they might not think she was ill natur'd, That if she meant to let them have the whole Sum, it was, because she had no Relations in
France;
That her Father and Mother, who had come thither, were originally
English.
And thus having told them a thousand pretty Stories, at length she concluded, That she was a poor Orphan, and would be very glad to lay out her Money to the best advantage; or at least, to secure herself from the Miseries of Necessity.
This Relation of the pretended Orphan appear'd so ingenuous to the Hungry Nuns, that they resolv'd to receive her into their Cloyster, without troubling themselves with any farther inquiry into her Circumstances, than what their Eyes could afford them into the goodness of her Coin. However, there arose a little difficulty betwixt the Parties; for the Nuns desir'd to have the Money presently deliver'd up to them, or at least, when she assum'd the Habit; but she, for her part, pretended only to do it when she Profess'd; tho' she meant never to do it; for she design'd her Mony for some other use than what the Nuns had ever thought of: And to that purpose told them, That she could not be satisfy'd, whether their Rules and manner of Life would suit with her Temper, and till she was fully assured of that, they ought to demand no other Conditions of her, but that of paying handsomly for her Board, which she would never scruple to do; that in the mean time, she would put out her Money to Interest, which would fall to them in course, whenever she had assum'd the Profession; but that she intended to secure herself before she was stripped of her Money. She demanded nothing but what was just; and besides, threaten'd to find out some other place, if they refused any longer to accept of her Conditions. Being afraid to slip the opportunity, they agreed with her upon her own Terms. So, this pretended young Gentlewoman, having put on the White Vail, in a few days, bestow'd so Liberally upon her Habit, as if Money had cost her nothing. All the Nuns were wonderfully edified by her generosity, only her Mistress, in the midst of all their Joy for so rich a Prize, continued still in her wonted indisposition, as if she had been altogether mortify'd. The resemblance she found between herself and her Spark, open'd her Wounds afresh, that were still too tender, not to be sensible of any thing that touched them.
The Scene being thus over, The Novice began soon to accost the Lady that oblig'd him to dissemble his Sex. But being unwilling to entertain her in the Torment she was in, she told her all of a sudden, what
Love
had forced her to do; she added moreover, That she was fully resolv'd to Starve herself, if she would shew her no Compassion; That she was certainly inform'd, she had assum'd the Profession against her Inclination; and if she had yet any sense of the passion she had for her, while with her Parents, she had no reason to doubt, but the recent Testimony she now gave her, would engage her to enter into all the measures she would advise her; That she had fallen upon this Invention, not to rob her of her Honour, but to restore her to to the tranquility she had lost, and to recover her own also; That she could enjoy no more after she had enter'd into the Convent; That she wanted not Money to carry them thorow, in exp
ctation of a better Fortune; and tho' the Sum was not of great importance, yet she kn
w how to manage it to that advantage, as would secure them from the Injuries of Necessity; That she was fully resolv'd to Marry her, if she pleas
d; That it was certain her Vows were of no force, since she was compell'd to them, and so it depended intirely upon herself, to be freed from her present Captivity, since it was not possible for her to be happy without her; That neither of them ought to regard the meanness of the Present she offer'd her now, in comparison of what both of them could have reasonably expected, if Love had not embroil'd them with their Parents; That she would endeavour to be at ease without them, and oftentimes there was more satisfaction in a middle ordinary F
rtune, than in a sumptuous one; That great R
ches are always attended with great Cares, and provided that a Husband and Wife, who love one another tenderly, be out of the reach of Necessity, they may be indifferent for other Superfluities.
The Nun found this way of reasoning very pertinent▪ it
eing altogether conformable to her own Sense and Inclination. She agreed with her Lover in all things. They pass'd three Months in this Intrigue
doing nothing but what became the strictest Honour, the there might have been some incroachments upon Decercy. The Novice feign'd herself Sick alle
ging, (after they had asked her a great many times, What she ail'd) That her Sickness proceeded only from the Austerity of the Convent, which she could never be able to go through. The Discreet Mothers were a little vexed to hear her speak after that rate, forseeing that the twenty thousand Livers they had rely'd upon, would slip out of their Fingers; but there being no remedy, they were fain to restore to her her temporal Habit, and give her her Pass. She presently took up her Money, and gave it to the Bankers for Bills of Exchange upon
Italy,
where she was resolved to pass her time, as soon as she made sure of her
Mistress.
Having mutually adjusted all things; the Night before they put their Plot in Execution, the Nun uninter'd a Sister that had been just Buried, carried her to her Bed, and having set Fire to it, made her escape into the Garden of the Convent, where her Spark had fastned a Ladder of Cords to a certain place of the Wall they had condescended upon. He waited for her at the other side with a Coach, and receiving her into it, while the whole Convent was in an uproar about the Fire, carried her to a Lodging he had intirely at his command.
The poor Nuns had much to do to quench the Fire that frighted them extreamly, for fear of having their whole Convent destroyed by it. However, having mastered it at length, tho' with a considerable loss, they all of them run immediately to the Chamber where the Fire first began, and being extreamly troubled that she did not appear, they doubted not in the least but she had perished in the Flames. They were soon confirm'd in the certainty of their belief, when they found the remnants of a dead Body in the ruins of that Chamber, thinking really the rest had been consumed by the Fire. Nothing was heard but Grief and Lamentation upon all hands; some rehearsing the praises of the dead Nun, whom they thought they could never lament sufficiently. Others who were as much interess'd as compassionate, griev'd more for the loss of the House, than of the Dead; and while they amused themselves with these or such like Reflections, not one of them dream'd of what had happen'd; but the most probable thing they said, was, That her Parents when acquainted with her unhappy Disaster, must needs Censure themselves, in regard they had forced her to assume the Profession against her Inclination.
In the mean time, the two Lovers escap'd into
Italy,
pursuant to their design: There they were Marry'd, having met with a Priest to their Mind; or one perhaps so tender of their Interest, as to ease a poor Girl of her Vows, without giving her the trouble of applying herself to any other Authority, than his own. The young Husband applied himself to Traffick, in which he was so fortunate, as in twenty Years time, to make a considerable Estate. In that time, Providence blessed him with a numerous Off spring; but at length he died in the five and fortieth Year of his Age. The Lady, who was much about the same Age, notwithstanding the tender Love and Prosperity of her Husband, being still frighted with a check of Conscience, resolv'd upon a Journey to
Rome,
to obtain the
Holy-Father
's Absolution for what she had done. The
Pope
refused it absolutely, without she promised faithfully to return to the Convent. She was extreamly unwilling to comply, in regard of the tender Affection she had for her Children. In fine, preferring the tranquility of her Conscience to every thing, she conquer'd all obstacles that would have hindred her, and promis'd His
Holiness
to obey his Command: She had a favourable Passage by Sea into
France,
together with her whole Family, which she carry'd along with her to
Rome,
to move His
Holiness
to a Compassion for them. When she arrived at
Marseilles,
she took the way to
Paris,
concealing from the World, both Herself, and her Affairs. She lodg'd some time
Incognito
in the Suburbs of St.
Germans,
to dispose of her Family, before she would withdraw into the Cloyster. And tho' she had put her Affairs in order, she would by no means go thither, before she was assured of a civil Usage. She was not ignorant of the terrible Penalty they were liable to, that leap'd over the Walls of the Convent, as she had done. That she should not be exposed to it, she offered underhand, Twenty thousand Livres for her Pardon. This Summ charmed all the Nuns Eyes, which they looked upon as a Present sent them from Heaven. They were mightily surprized at her Resurrection, and acquainted her Friends with it, who doubted a long time, whether they ought to rejoice at it, or shew her some Mark of their displeasure, for wandring about the World, with a Person, upon whose account she had been forced to turn Nun. As it was never seen, that all the World was of the same Opinion, so some continued their Indignation against her, and would never see her; others did not mind the matter so much: But all of 'em agreed to have her stript of the Mony she brought from
Italy,
pretending it was not in her power to dispose of it to her Children. She secured it in a Person's Hands whom she had reason to confide in, to have it divided amongst her Children, whenever they should either Marry, or establish themselves some other way in the World. However, they were not the only Persons who gaped after it; her deceased Husband's Friends began also to bestir themselves upon the news of what had passed. Both Parties commenced their Process against the Children, pretending to have them declared Bastards. So much for this extraordinary Scene, which, in effect, appeared in such a manner to me, that I should never have had the confidence to have mentioned it here, without having taken all imaginable Precautions with reference to it. It is not very hard to conjecture what Decision Justice will make in it. However, it will hardly be soon determined. The Judges are seldom very prompt in deciding Causes, when the Parties are in Circumstances to dispense with Money. They believe it would derogate too much from their laudable Custom, to dispatch readily Affairs that afford Gleanings.
The Court being about that time at
Marli,
the Count of
Chamilly
was nam'd amongst others to go thither. In a discourse of the War, some young Gentlemen there took a share in the Conversation: And the King ask'd the Count of
Grammont,
softly, how he liked the young Gentlemen's way of reasoning.
Grammont,
who has a pleasant freedom in all his Expressions, being glad to make use of this opportunity to serve the Count of
Chamilly,
who had been neglected for a considerable time, answer'd His Majesty, That he ought not to be surpriz'd at these young Men's way of reasoning; for if any were at the pains to ask them, if ever the
Grave
was Besieged, they would say nothing of what had pass'd there, nor who had defended the Place. The King perceiv'd his Design, which was to upbraid His Majesty, that after so glorious an Action,
Chamilly
had not been rewarded as others had, who had not his merit to plead for them. But it is no surprizing matter now a-days, to see Actions of Renown shot in their Carier. Courage and Conduct doth not intitle a Man to a plentiful
Fortune,
he must also be learn'd in the Art of
Truckling
to the
Ministers.
The Marquis of
Louvois
was extraordinary upon this account; and however highly he valued the
Good
and
Advantage
of the
State,
which none could deny to him; yet to serve the King faithfully was no sufficient Character to recommend one, unless he were his Creature: Without that nothing would do; it was his constant Maxim, that it was impossible to be His
Majesty
's Friend, without being the
Ministers.
I shall neither justifie nor condemn him; there is a great deal to be said on both sides. His Majesty, who without dispute, is the most sincere and prudent Prince in the Universe, took this occasion to do
Chamilly
all the justice that could be expected. So that those who were entirely Strangers to the Siege of the
Grave,
as the Count of
Grammont
pretended, might easily be inform'd of all that pass'd there.
In the mean time, the
Spaniards
being alarm'd at the Preparations the King was making in
Provence,
acquainted the
English
and
Dutch
afresh of i
, to the end they might send their
Fleet
into the Mediterranean, to make Head against the King's. These two
Powers,
being full as weary of the War as
His Most Christian Majesty,
for that no advantage could accrue to them by continuing of it, amused them from time to time with fair Promises, without troubling themselves to perform them. They thought it convenient to allow
France
to act its utmost Efforts upon that side, that the House of
Austria
might become the more tractable, and oppose no more a
Tranquility,
of which all
Europe
stood in need. The
Pope
made use of his Interest in vain, to draw over that
House
to it, so great was their confidence, that
France
would at last be oppressed by so many Enemies as were United against it. The Duke of
Savoy
's falling off, gained nothing upon their obstinacy, tho' it eased
France
very sensibly. The
Pope
could never offer his Mediation to decide the Quarrel, most of the Parties interessed, being of another Religion. In fine, the
Swedish
King accomplished what His Holiness could never bring to pass. He made the
Parties
agree to accept of him, as
Mediator
of their
Differences.
The Castle of
Ryswick
was named for the
Place
of their Congress, tho' the Emperor opposed it upon several accounts. They endeavoured to accommodate Matters in an amicable way, which was exceeding hard to do, considering the Exorbitant Demands of the House of
Austria.
These insisted always upon the Restitution of all they had lost since the Treaty of the
Pyrenees,
and had no regard to the two later Treaties of
Aix-la Chapel,
and
Nimiguen;
alledging, They had only been obliged to make them, by a superior
Force,
to avoid the utter Desolation of their
States.
The Duke of
Lorrain,
for his part, demanded the Restitution of his
Domains,
without any regard to the Conditions that were agreed upon by the Treaty of
Nimiguen;
which seemed so insupportable to his Father, that he chose rather never to enter into the Treaty, than accept of them upon these Terms. A great many other Princes came also to thwart it, who demanded Reparation of the King for a great many Places and Villages, that they alledg'd, he had divested them of; insomuch, that
His most Christian Majesty
might have been compared to the Bird in the Fable, from which all the other Birds (his Enemies) meant to pluck a Feather.
It had been very hard to redress all these Confusions, if the common Misery had not obliged the
English
and
Hollanders
to remove the Difficulty; it had like to have proved a Gordian-Knot, where the Sword is more necessary than Art. But as these two
Powers,
to speak properly, were the very
Life
of the Alliance, that had no motion, but from this
Spring;
they asked the
French
Plenipotentiaries at
Ryswick,
if they meant to stand to the Preliminaries that were stipulated with Monsieur
Calliers;
otherwise, it were to no purpose to Meet; but if they intended faithfully to perform what was agreed upon, they would soon remove all other obstacles. These
Preliminaries
were of no less consequence, than the Restitution of two intire Provinces, and of one
Place
of equal importance to all the rest. These two
Powers
doubted, that
Calliers
had made these advances of his own Head, that he might with the greater facility, discover their Pretensions; but his Colleagues having assured them it was the King's sincere Intention, they went on with the Treaty, in such a manner, as the World might perceive, they meant to bring it to a happy Conclusion.
In the mean time, the Court of
France
increas'd in the number of Subjects, by the
Conquests
it made during the course of the War, tho it had to do with so many Enemies, as one would have thought were sufficient to bring it to Desolation. Nothing but Coaches was to be seen at
Versailles;
some of them with the Ornaments peculiar to the Electors of the Empire; and that was become so fashionable, that even the
French
themselves had them set upon theirs. However, the better sort of Men despised it, seeing no apparent reason, why they were so ready to imitate the Cus
oms of the Empire; for if His Majesty had firmly pretended to it, he was so far from it now, that there was not the least appearance of his arriving to it. However, there were some of these Gentlemen who had a just Title to carry them; particularly the Count of
Egmont,
who Married Madamoiselle
De Conac,
the Archbishop of
Aix
's Niece, His Majesty conferr'd the Honours of the
Louvre
upon her: And these were justly due to her, because her Husband was Lineally Descended of the Dukes of
Ghelderland,
which created to her a great deal of envy amongst the other Ladies of Quality; insomuch, that the Mareschal
d'Estree
's Lady could not dissemble her Resentment of it. One day at Dinner with Mons.
Pontchartrain,
she said, without regarding if any there would resent her discourse, She admir'd, that the Count of
Egmont
would condescend to Marry such a Girl as Madamoiselle
Conac.
The Chevalier
d'Obtere,
Governor of
Couelloure,
over-heard her, and being Uncle to the young Gentlewoman, could not avoid being concern'd at it. He told the Gentleman who sat next him, How unbecoming it was for
Morin
the
Jew
's Daughter, to talk after that manner, of a Person of his Niece's Quality: that he own'd the Honour the Alliance had done both to her and all her Friends: but great as it was, it fail'd of that the
Morins
had by the Blood of the
Estrees;
that the difference was not so great between the
Egmonts
and the
Conacs,
as betwixt the
Etrees
and the Burgesses of the City of
Tours.
All the Company expected, that the Chevalier would not fail to resent it after that manner; and knowing that the Lady was ignorant of the Chevalier's Interest in Madamoiselle, they continu'd the Conversation upon the same subject with her, that she might avoid a second oversight. Then she became sensible of her fault, and of the private reproof they gave her; but whether she had done it, because she knew him not, or through imprudence, she never made him any acknowledgement of it.
Lent
follow'd soon after, and a certain Monk, nam'd
Seraphin,
Guardian of the
Capucins
at
Meudon,
was chosen to Preach before the King that Season; he behav'd himself with such freedom, that it was generally believ'd he would be forbid the Pulpit; but His Majesty was so intent upon his Devotion, as some alledge, out of a principle of Christianity, in favour of the
Peace,
that he overlook'd a great many things, which at any other time he would have maintain'd with the point of his Sword: I say, His Majesty, who honours all Men of Probity, was so far from being offended at it, that he own'd, nothing pleas'd him more than his Sermons, and desir'd him to continue them after the same manner, nor did the King ever neglect any of them; but perceiving that the Duke of
Rochefoucaut
never came to them, he ask'd him the reason. The Duke reply'd, That he had no Seat in the Church. His Majesty conferr'd the Bishop of
Orlean
's, his first Almoner's Seat upon him, the Bishop being then at his Cathedral, two days journey from
Paris,
whence returning very soon, he desir'd to have his Seat again; the Duke refus'd it, pretending he never had it but out of Decency; and now His Majesty conferring it upon him, he meant to shut him out of it. This difference made no less noise than Monsieur
Boleau
's Lutrin. Both parties were back'd by their Friends in their pretensions, and if they durst to have fought for it, they were sufficiently animated against each other to have done it; but resting satisfied to shew, that they were both Men of Spirit, they turn'd their Indignation to sollicite His Majesty, that he would be pleas'd to decide the cause in favour of the respective Party.
The King gave it for the Duke, which vex'd the Prelate to that degree, that, out of spite, he returned to his Diocess. He carried the Abbot of
Coaslin
along with him, as if, by that, he meant to engage him in his Resentment. This Abbot had the survivorship of the Prelate's Charge, as first Almoner, and the expectation of the first Bishoprick should fall: Besides, his Uncle had no reason to complain of the favours of the Court. After the Death of Monsieur
Chanvallon,
Archbishop of
Paris,
the King had awarded him his nomination for a Cardinal's Cap, which he had formerly gratified the Archbishop with. So that neither of them could be excus'd from imprudence, that shew'd so much Passion, for so small a cause.
About the same time, his Brother, the Duke of
Coaslin
had another kind of Vexation that seem'd to be better grounded than theirs: His Coach was Arrested for Debt, which the Advocate,
Master of Requests,
and
Register of the Points of Honour,
before the Mareschals of
France,
alledg'd was unduly done, because of his Dignity. Some years ago, he made a great deal of noise about it, in favour of the Duke of
Ventadour,
who suffer'd the same Affront; but as he was far inferior in Wit and Reputation to Monsieur
Pomponne,
his Brother-in-law, after he had been crushed in the Defence he undertook in
Ventadour
's Affair, he never dar'd to appear in defence of
Coaslin.
He was e'en ready to lay down his Charge before the Mareschals of
France,
which made him the more wary of engaging into new Troubles, for fear of ending as he had begun.
Tho' this was some Mortification for the Duke, to be oblig
to Walk home a-foot, yet about the same time, a more pressing Vexation afflicted the Dutchess or
Svlly;
for the Princess of
Furstemberg
caus'd to seize both her Bed and Furniture, for her Rent: tho' she had run only three Years in Arrear, there being thirteen Years Rent due at the Death of the Duke her Husband, of which the Dutchess had clear'd ten, since she was a Widow: But there being a misunderstanding between them, and the Princess alledging, that the Dutchess had spoke with more freedom than decency of her, when her Husband had been Wounded at Hunting, she laid hold of this opportunity, to make her repent of her imprudence. These two Affairs were represented to the King, to kn
w if his Majesty would exempt the Duke
, or reduce the
o their immovables. But His Majesty's Answer gave them small encouragement; he reply'd, That every one was concern'd to pay their Debts; and tho he did not approve of some procceedings, yet it was sufficient that they were screen'd by Justice.
The Dutchess of
Lude
's interest had better success for the Dutchess of
Vernevil,
her Mother. The King conferr'd a Pension of Twelve thousand Livres upon her, which she had almost refus'd, reputing it too mean for a Person of her Rank. For as she had the honour to be the Widow of the King's Uncle, she thought it her due to be treated as a Princess of the Blood, tho' the advantage he boasted of, came
the Left-hand. His Majesty seldom gave them less than Twenty thousand Livres, and she thought it was none of her business to accept of so little, considering what others receiv'd, who could not come in competiton with her. In effect, the Count of
Brancas
enjoy'd Fourteen thousand Livres for his Life; and after his Death, His Majesty continu'd it to the Princess of
Harcourt,
his eldest Daughter. A great many others had also larger Pensions than her's, which vex'd her to that degree, that she told her Daughter, She meant to resign it again freely to the King. The Dutchess of
Lude,
not thinking it convenient for her to resent after this manner the First-fruits of her favour, disswaded her from it; for it is His Majesty's Prerogative to give, and not to receive Laws.
About that time, the only Son of the Marquis of
Gordes,
presented a Petition to the King, that vex'd the Marquis of
Rhodes
much more than his Gout, which afflicted him for many Years. The Marquis of
Rhodes
had married the other Sister: He was no such Gamester as his Father; but had a much lighter Head: For, had he been only a Gamester, the Bishop had pardon'd him, for in that he had been of his own Kidney; but the Prelate thinking him somewhat maddish, causes him to be shut up in a Convent. This poor Gentleman believ'd that the Bishop had impos'd upon His Majesty in the Affair, and thought he could easily perswade the King of the contrary, had he the honour to see him; but as Fools do not think they are so, or rather believe they are the wisest of Men, if you credit their Oath: The King did not think it convenient to trust him: He was afraid to be deceiv'd, as he had been lately by a Num-scul, who had escap'd out of the
Bastille,
where his Friends had shut him up upon the same account. He was a Cadet of the House of
Usez,
but so little reform'd by his Imprisonment, that immediately upon his escape he committed the height of Folly in marrying very miserably. He chose a Woman that was neither Rich, Young, nor Handsome, and for an additional comfort, the Widow of a
Common Fellow,
that became a Gentleman only at his Death; for they did him the favour to cut his Throat in consideration of his Wife, who was more honestly descended; for had they treated him according to his merit, they were affraid she might lye under the imputation of the Wife of a Man that was Hang'd. But his Folly did not stop there, for he carried her along with him to
Versails
and St.
Cloud,
where he had reviv'd the
Angels
that had died a long time before. But as People have sometimes more pleasure in Fools than in Wise Men, every one disturb'd his Brain the more, in making him believe they delighted in his Folly.
Much about that time, there happen'd a quarrel betwixt two Persons of Quality at St.
Cloud,
who treated one another after the rate of true
Billingsgate.
Their Sex excus'd them from the use of the Sword, to decide it, but being equally provided with the A
ms of the Sex, they fairly disputed for the Victory. The one was Princess of
Montaban,
and the other Madam of
Grancei.
At last, both having spent their Spirits in the Controversie, without the least respect to one anothers reputation, Madam of
Grancie
appeal'd to Monsieur—who was present, to decide their Difference. The Princess accepted freely of the motion, and having call'd him that minute, intreated him to judge the Affair impartially. He gave thim an attentive hearing, but after both of them had taken the pains to set forth their Cause, he made answer, That he discharged the Process. They ask'd him in a grumbling way, what he meant? But the answer he made them, shock'd them more than all that went before. He reply'd, That he had no other Sentence to give to such people as them, and all they offer'd was as light as Wind. They could never get him to give another Reason, which made them resolve upon a mutual Accommodation, without giving any body any further trouble upon the matter.
This gave great joy to the Judge, who finding them afterwards in a good understanding with one another, accosted them in this manner,
I told you
(said he)
That the Sentence I pronounced, was the only one that could be given amongst such People as you: Women of your Quality quarrel and agree again with equal facility; and unless a Lover be in the case, there is no fear of an Accomodation.
Had the Duke of
Orleans,
who loves Novelty, been chosen Judge of their Difference, he had possibly decided it rather in favour of the one than the other. Tho' he had formerly some inclinations for Madan
Grancie,
he thought now, that her Face wrinkled with Age, was not to be put in competition with the Charms of the Princess of
Montauban.
This Lady made him Laugh when he had no mind to it; she inherited from her Ancestors, a Genius for Comedy, for she was Daughter to the Count of
Nogent,
and Sister to the Chevalier of
Nogent,
who is still alive, and whose only Trade, since he left the War, was to make the Marquis of
Louvois
laugh. This Minister had him along with him in his own Colash, in all his Journies; nor was he the only person who lov'd to divert himself with Childish Expressions; for Monsieur
Colbert
at his leisure Hours, had also People to entertain him with ridiculous Stories. It's pity but Madam
D'Anoy,
and Madam
de Moral,
had thought at that time of diverting him with their Fairies; they had been often very acceptable. Thus you see great Men have their weak side as well as others; and there is nothing that convinces us more of the frailty of humane Nature.
The pleasure the Duke of
Orleans
found in the Princess of
Montauban
's Conversation, made him resolve to carry her along with him to
Marly.
All are not free to go thither, and it must be by Stratagem that leave is obtain'd to go; for after the King is earnestly sollicited, he reckons it a particular Favour to grant it, as in effect it is, to go where the Prince goes, and to appear before him in a place where there is no confusion to be seen, tho' it prevails in other places where the Court comes. The Duke's expectation was frustrated, for His Majesty refus'd his Request. However, the Duke not being much discourag'd at the first Repulse, insisted in his demand, hoping to obtain it at last by his importunity. At last seeing His Majesty inexorable, he intreated him at least to impart his Reason. No doubt tho' the King, who always goes upon good grounds, had a very plausible Reason, but suspecting it might prove disobliging to the Princess, he desir'd, in a smiling way, to be excus'd from a thing he had resolv'd not to tell. The Duke, who is always very pressing in what he undertakes, observing that the King had only
old him so in a smiling way, importun'd His Majesty more than ever to know his Reason. His Majesty to be freed from his importunity, at last made him answer, That because he was so very earnest, he would tell him freely; That he was always well pleas'd to see handsome Women, and the Princess of
Montauban
being none of the number, he would not accustom his Eyes to look upon her. In effect, she was very far from being Handsome. Her Face was mark'd with scars from her Infancy; she was Hunch'd Back'd, but found the secret to conceal it in some measure, by the help of Steel Bodies; besides, being somewhat advanc'd in Years, she was the more insupportable. However, being still as Handsome in the Duke's Opinion, as a great many other Women whom His Majesty Honour'd with the same Favour, he still pleaded on her behalf. He ask'd His Majesty if she was not as Handsome as such and such Ladies whom he always carried along with him to the Castle of
Marly.
The King fell a Laughin
g when he saw his Brother take it so patiently, and left him to continue his Discourse which tended only to perswade him, that the Ladies which he mentioned, had no better Title to such marks of distinction than she, for whom he was pleading; for he made him no other answer than what he told him at first.
Madam
de Montauban
resolving to go to
Versailles
at any rate; and seeing all the Duke's Endeavours prove Fruitless, thought of a more plausible pretext. She applied herself to the Princess of
Harcourt,
who had the secret of obtaining a great many things, when others met with a refusal. Five hundred Crowns brought her Project to bear; and by these means she had the Honour to go to
Marly,
an Honour she had aspir'd to of a long time, and which was like to have cost her her
Wits,
if she had not obtain'd it. The King was well enough pleas'd with the grant he had made; he found her very pleasant and good Humour'd; and this Lady, who never knew what t
was to fast
Fridays
or
Saturdays,
found it no difficulty to comply with what others did there. In effect, finding herself in a place where the King never allow'd any one to eat Flesh, She out of Love to His Majesty, or out of Fear to displease him, did, what neither the Love nor Fear of God were ever capable to oblige her to do. But every person there knowing her ordinary practice in that Affair, she thought it convenient to vindicate herself to those who were highly offended at the difference she made betwixt a mortal Man and God. But all she said had rather more Gallantry in it than real Apology. She could say nothing, but that the Food there, had a taste very different from the Food of the rest of Mankind; that the Beams of the Sun of
France
created another kind of warmth than the ordinary Sun, insomuch, that there was a certain happiness under his influence, that was not to be found any where else.
But this sort of Discourse produc'd a quite different effect from what she expected; for those who blam'd her before, condemn'd her much more now. They thought it had been much more proper for her (as no doubt it was) to have avoided all manner of Apology, than to make use of that she made: For as they maintain'd very well, it was an adding of impiety to the scandal, to attribute more power to a Man than to God; but she suffered them to go on, being sure to have the wanton Youths on her side; for 'tis at Court as at other places, they divert themselves often with ridiculous Trifles; and
est and most P
ous are not always the most respected. This appear'd too evidently not long after in a difference she had with her Husband. He came to Court alone, while her entry was accompanied with a numerous Train of all sorts of people, shewing by that means the respect they had for her. Hence she took occasion to insult over him, as if his Solitude had given him an aversion to innocent Mirth. But he reply'd so smartly home, that she would gladly have dispensed with the severe Compliment she oblig'd him to return. They found what he said was somewhat extraordinary, especially of one descended of a Family that never had the Reputation of being over Witty; for he was the Son of the Duke of
Montbason,
whom they had shut up in a Convent for his giddy Brain, at least, that was all the Reason they gave for divesting him of his Estate, tho' in good earnest they would be oblig'd to build more
Bedlams
than one, if they meant to shut up all that are many degrees greater Num sculls than he.
Debauchery was still in vogue amongst the Women, and consequently amongst the Men; ho' the King omitted nothing that could be done to oblige all People to a just observance of their Duty. The
Italian
Comedians, who had a dexterity of Acting every thing happily, took thence an occasion of introducing so many indecencies upon their Stages, that 'twas complained of to His Majesty. This displeas'd him the more, that they published an Advertisement of representing very soon a person of Quality. Therefore His Majesty expell'd them out of the Kingdom; and for a long time he was indifferent as to the Play; and if at any time he order'd them to act before him, it was rather to amuse the young People, or through policy, than for any pleasure he himself took in it. In effect, it is convenient to keep the
in Action, and some people allow even of a lesser evil to obviate a greater. Tho' I hardly believe that the Gentlemen of
Port Royal
would be of that Opinion, were they consulted in it; and amongst all the Casuists, we shall never find any reasonable pretence, that can warrant us to commit any evil. However, His Majesty had no sooner form'd this Resolution, than he sent Monsieur
D'Argenson
to shut up their
Theater.
Accordingly he went immediately before they could have the least intelligence of the Storm that threatned them, and call'd a great many Commissaries to attend him; not that he fear'd any Rebellion; but in regard the King commanded him to go about it with the greatest solemnity: For the Scandal they had given being publick, the King would have their Punishment to be the same. Besides, he commanded to seal up all their Seats. He knew they had kept their Manuscripts in them, and therefore would make sure of all they had given Advertisements of. They were extreamly surprised at this manner of Usage, and the more, in that they had never dream'd of it. They went all in a Body to
Versailles,
to prostitute themselves at His Majesty's Feet; they represented to him, how they were call'd, before they came to
France,
which was matter of fact; for Cardinal
Mazarin,
who himself was the greatest Comedian in the Universe, and, perhaps, was afraid to forget a part he had Acted all his days, desir'd from time to time, to see some new Scenes to put him in mind of his Trade. Upon this score they alledg'd, That having left their Country upon that invitation, it was an injustice done to them at that time, to turn 'em out of the Nation. But the King foreseeing what they aim'd at, prevented them, saying, he doubted not but it was to please Cardinal
Mazarin
they undertook that Journey; and if they pleas'd to own the truth, they had no reason to repent of their Trouble: They came into
France
a Foot, and were in a condition to go out of it in a Coach. This Reply gave them to understand, that His Majesty was Displeas'd; therefore they thought to make their Application to some good Patron, to appease him; but whether it was, that every one was more ready to abandon them, than protect them, because they had spared no body upon their
Theater;
or that the Courtiers were sensible the King had no inclination to shew them any favour; not one person was found to plead for them: They were therefore oblig'd to look out for some other Trade for their future subsistence, and their
Theater
continues shut up till this day.
In the mean time the King's Army in
Flanders,
laid Seige to
Ath,
a place His Majesty had given up to the
Spaniards,
by the Treaty of
Nimiguen.
The Count
de Rheux
commanded within the Town with a good Garrison, amongst whom were a great many
French
Deserters, who looking upon themselves lost if they came to be known, desir'd to have the charge of the principal attacks. In all appearance they would choose rather to be cut to pieces than to surrender. But the Count of
Rheux
considering they might also deliver up the Post, in expectation of a Pardon, was so far from trusting or uniting them in one Body, as they desir'd, that he dispersed them amongst the different Regiments to avoid the present Consequences he fear'd. There were three Marshals of
France
in that Army, namely, the Marshal of
Vlileroy,
the Marshal of
Boufflers,
and the Marshal of
Catinat;
but this last being beyond dispute, the greatest of the three, it was to him the King gave the Direction of the Siege.
Villeroy
and
Boufflers
made head against the Enemies Army, which was jointly commanded by King
William
and the Duke of
Bavaria.
But if these two Princes made any motion, it was not to run any risque; for they were sensible all their attempts would prove in vain. The Treaty of
Reswick
was going on a pace, and knowing very well that the King would be oblig'd to give up that Place by the Peace, they did not think it convenient to Sacrifice one Man for its relief. If they had no mind to venture a Battle, they might easily lay Siege to
Dinant,
while Marshal
de Catinat
was busied at
Ath.
But then
Brussels
that was Bumbarded the Year before, was left expos'd for
Villeroy
and
Boufflers
to Besiege; so that they could not conveniently quit their Post. Besides, they knew that
Ath
was one of the places the Plenipotentaries of
France
offer'd to give up to the Allies. It had been therefore very needless for them to throw away the lives of Men upon that design, since they were sure of having it without stroak of Sword.
These reasons oblig'd them to keep their Stations; or if they mov'd at any time, it was only to find a Camp where their Troops could be supplied more conveniently with all necessaries. By that means Marshal
de Catinat
found little difficulty in his Enterprize. The Count
de Reux,
for his part, was prepossess'd as well as King
William
and the Duke of
Bavaria
with a design of husbanding his Men, it being his Interest as well as the King's. Insomuch that there was hardly any shooting from the Town; nor was there ever a Siege where the Besieged made less noise. The
French
were extreamly astonish'd at it; and the Governor having surrendred, said in a merry mode, to the Hostages, who were sent to make the Capitulation, that it must be owned the
French
are very bad Husbands, considering how poor they were said to be, for that they had lavished many thousand weight of Powder before that Place, and yet he was ready to hold, if they pleas'd, five hundred Pistoles to a Penny, that in less than four Months time the
Spaniards
would enter the place, without being at the expence of one grain of Powder. These Hostages were not ignorant of his meaning, and could hardly avoid condemning their own Folly. They own'd they were very much to blame, to throw away so many Lives upon a place without the least expectation of any Advantage. Not that they had lost any Person of Consequence, nor, indeed, so many Common Soldiers as was at first alledg'd; but what they spoke was with regard to the insignificancy of that Conquest; for as few as they were, it was still a greater loss than necessary, since their Blood ought to have been valued.
The Duke of
Vendome,
for his part, Besieged
Barcelona,
both by Sea and Land; tho' he had acquainted His Majesty, that he was in no Circumstances to do it, yet being commanded by a supreme Order, he was oblig'd to undertake it against his Inclination. It was never known that any place was invested; after such a manner; for he had not Troops enough to make the Circumvallation. So that the Besieged had always opportunity to keep a Communication with the
Vice Roy
of
Catalonia,
who took the Field in order to relieve them. The Duke of
Vendome;
to supply his want of Men, took out of the King's Ships that were before the Town, all who were able to carry Arms. This added somewhat to his Force, but not sufficiently to compleat his Circumvallation: So that all the World believ'd he had engag'd in an Enterprize, which would cerrainly cost him his Honour. In effect, besides that the Besieged could depart and enter the Town at liberty, they were so numerous, that one would have thought it was rather an Army than a Ga
rison. They had eleven Thousand Men in the place; and the Queen of
Spain
being in hopes of preserving it for her Nephew, recommended it in particulor to the Prince of
Armstadt,
who, next to the Governor, had the principal Command. He promis'd Her Majesty confidently to behave himself so, as she should have no reason to be dissatisfied; and to make good his Promise, there pass'd very few days withou
making some Sallies, which extreamly retarded the advancing of the Works. They disputed every Inch of Ground with 'em; and the World was ready to believe, That as the Arms of
France
had gain'd some Reputation at the taking of
Ath,
their Glory was like to be obscur'd by a far different Event before this place; and for an additional misfortune, the News from
Poland
gave them reason to suspect that the Abbot of
Polignac
had acted too precipitantly in declaring the Prince of
Conti
King; for all the advices particular Persons receiv'd from that Country, were so unfavourable, that now they despair'd of success.
However, their News from all hands made no mention of the Duke of
Saxony,
and the Emperor conceal'd his Design as to that Affair, so closely, that it was impossible to penetrate into it. It was generally believ'd, That Prince
James
was the only Rival the Prince of
Conti
had to fear; and this was the common Opinion in
Po
and;
for not one dream'd of the Duke of
Saxony
but such as were in the Plot. Nevertheless Prince
James
was universally hated by great and small, in regard of the King his Father, who, ever since he had mounted the Throne, behaved himself towards his Subjects, rather as a particular interessed Person, than as a true Sovereign; for he had made open Sale of all the Favours with which the Kings his Predecessors had always us'd to gratifie their Subjects: So that tho' these People were for many Ages, accustom'd to choose no-King in a strange Family, when their own Royal Family afforded one; yet they had forgotten that Custom so far in regard of him, that they would rather have seen the meanest of themselves upon the Throne, than have chosen any of his Issue. They were extreamly afraid that they, following his Example when advanced to the Royal Dignity, would squeeze their Subjects to the very Marrow, as he had always done.
This general Aversion rais'd the hopes of the Abbot of
Polignac,
tho' he saw that a great many of the Palatines would not declare for the Prince. This he attributed to their Avarice, and thought it was only out of a design of obliging him to give more Money. They were glad to find him of that Opinion; for while he continued ignorant of their Conduct, their Affair was like to have the better success. In fine,
This,
and the Affair of
Barcelona,
were the two things that were most in view at
France,
when the Duke of
Vendome
wrote to His Majesty, if he did not send him some Succours, he had reason to fear, that his Honour would certainly suffer in the Enterprize in which he was engaged. He gave the King a particular account of what had pass'd before the Place, that His Majesty might be the more sensible of his straits: So that the King having no more Reason to doubt of his Necessity, caus'd all the Troops he could draw out of
Languedoc
and
Provence
to march th
her. This fresh Re-inforcement wrought won
, tho' even then, they nere not in a Con
to draw the Line of Circumvallation. The
lost no time to attack the Outworks which
batter'd for a long time with a great many
The Soldiers behav'd themselves with an
Bravery; and having made theselves Masters of the
Covert Way,
they afterwards attack'd the
Bastion,
which was taken and re-taken twice. A Colonel of the
Irish,
nam'd
Dillon,
who Commanded one of these attacks, had pass'd his time there very indifferently, if he had not been well belov'd by the Regiment. One of his Soldiers who had deserted into the Town, came within four paces of him, and having distinguished him from the others,
Dillon,
said he,
Mind that it's in my power to Kill thee; but I won't; for thou never hast done me any harm: However, because thou hast by thee an Officer who is a common Hang-man of the Soldiers, I'll at least hinder him from doing any more mischief.
This said, he Shot him through the Belly dead upon the Spot. This
Bastion
having been thus disputed by both Parties, it fell, at last, into the hands of the Duke of
Vendome,
who rais'd a Battery upon it; from which he thundred in such a manner into the Town, that he judg'd, in all appearance, the Enemies would be oblig'd to surrender it in a short time. He acquainted the King with these News, and wrote to him, That he hoped in five or six days to send
Chameraut
to His Majesty, with an account of the Place's being surrendred. Every one was glad to hear this News, with which His Majesty was overjoy'd. This Express was very acceptable; and while they were impatient for the arrival of the other, who was to compleat His Majesty's satisfaction, they admir'd mightily that good Fortune, that made him Master of a Place where there was not only a numerous Garrison, but where it was also impossible for his own Army to shut up all the Passages. However, from day to day they waited
Chameraut
's arrival; and expected him with the first Post. At last there arriv'd one, who they believ'd, came from that Country, because his
haise was extreamly Dirty. But no Dirt comes thence; for it is always dry there, in regard, it
seldom, or never Rains in that Country; but the Roads leading from thence being very deep, and it having Rain'd so much lately, there was a sudden Report in
Paris,
that an Express was arriv'd with the News of
Barcelona
's being taken. However, it was a pleasant sort of Courier that came in that Chaise, namely a lusty
Sturgeon,
which they had catch'd in
Normandy,
and sent to the
Dauphin;
yet it was needless to tell the World so; none was like to believe it, being so prepossess'd with
Chemeraut
's arrival. This obliged a Court Lord to Answer these Faithless People who spoke to him after that manner, That it was true the Courier was arriv'd; but had rencountred with a Misfortune upon the Road, so that none could learn the particulars of the Towns being taken, from him; That having met with Assassins, the Postillion brought him dead in the Chaise, and that no doubt they had carried off his Packet; for having search'd him, they had found none about him. This Discourse gave occasion to another piece of News fully as true as the former: For the Report flying about very suddenly, all
Paris
believ'd the next day, that
Chemeraut
had been Kill'd. However, the Man was in excellent good health, and so far from having any desire to die, that he took all possible care of his Person. He was as Fat and Gross as four other Men, nor did he become so by feeding upon the Air, for he generally eat as much as other twelve Men.
After all, these News prov'd only false Alarms. Before the Town was taken, the
Viceroy
was resolv'd to hazzard a Battle with the Duke, and, for that purpose, summon'd together all those whom they call
Miquelets
in that Country; and having joyn'd them with his regular Troops, he approach'd to the Duke of
Vendome.
It had been in vain for him to cut off their Provisions by Land, they being supply'd from the Sea. He had a more noble Design than to amuse himself so meanly, he meant to decide the Affair all at once by a Battle; and to that purpose having call'd a Council of War, he resolved, with his General Officers, to march the next day in the Evening, directly towards the Duke. He acquainted the Governor of
Barcelona
with his Resolution, to the end, that at the same time, he might make a vigorous Sally upon the Enemies, and so attack them upon all sides. In less than half an hour after, the Duke knew all the measures they had concerted against him, and being thus put upon his Guard, he march'd to meet him the Night before he was to execute his Design. But the Viceroy had already divided his Army in two parts, in order to attack him with the greater advantage. This was made known to the Duke, who fell upon him with extraordinary fury; notwithstanding the Laurels the Vice-Roy had promised to himself, he was still in Bed when they came to acquaint him, that his Guards lost ground; they made no resistance at all, but betook them to their heels; and the Duke had certainly taken the Viceroy (as was expected) in Bed, if they had not awaked him of a sudden. The Noise he heard about his Tent, having surpriz'd his Attendants as well as himself, made them believe that all was lost: He excus'd his
Valet de Chambre
from his Duty at that time; and fearing he had no time to Dress, he made the best of his way Naked as he was, thinking the greatest thing he could do, was to save himself. The part of his Army that was with him, followed his Example, except a very few that put themselves upon the Defence. The Duke made a great many Prisoners; the Vice-Roy's small Trunk fell also into his hands, with twenty Tousand Pistols in
Specie;
and the Soldiers made a considerable Booty. All he wanted now to compleat his Victory, was, to know, that the other Detachment he had sent against him, had met with the same Fate, and in a very little time he had that satisfaction. He knew that Mons.
D'Usson,
whom he had entrusted with that Expedition, had behav'd himself gallantly; and return'd to joyn him with all the Glory he could desire.
The Governor of
Barcelona
was as much surprised as the Prince
D'Armstad,
when he heard these Tydings. The Duke did not keep him long in the Dark, he sent to acquaint him with it, that he might not continue any longer to make a fruitless Defence. But having still eight Thousand Men in Garrison, he thought it Dishonourable to surrender to a Prince, who had not Soldiers enough to invest the Place intirely, and therefore kept out some few days longer, rather to fulfil the Duty of a brave Commander, (of which he had been always emulous) than out of any hops of hindring the Town from being taken.
In effect, in a very few days he caus'd a Parly to be beat, pretending to give up the Town only, and retire with his Men into the Castle, which (being situated upon a Hill) he could hold out for a considerable time. But he delay'd so long in surrendring, that the Duke refus'd to accept any other Composition, than to have the Castle given up as well as the Town. The Governor thought this condition very severe; but as those who are Conquer'd, are commonly oblig'd to receive Laws from the Conqueror, so he was fain to accept of it. It was then that
Chemeraut
appear'd at Court of a different size from a
Sturgeon.
He brought these good Tydings to the King, which pleas'd His Majesty extreamly, who began to fear some reverse of Fortune might have happen'd to the Duke of
Vendome,
since he had sent his last Express.
Chemeraut
had twenty Thousand Livers for his pains, and a Commission to act as Marshal
de Camp.
His Majesty being now freed from all his Fears, had more reason to be assur'd of the Peace; for besides that, the Conference at
Ryswick
went on apace, there were some other Conferences upon the same Subject, betwixt the Marshal of
Boufflers
and the Earl of
Portland.
After the loss of
Ath,
King
William,
who knows how to make his advantage of every thing, judging this Earl, in every degree, as dexterous as the Marshal, thought it convenient to employ him upon that Head; by this means he meant to remove more speedily, a great many difficulties that could not be so easily terminated in a longer time. At
Ryswick,
in regard of the Formalities, the Plenipotentaries were oblig'd to observe measures with one another.
Portland
sent a Trumpeter, as of his own accord, to the Marshal, to ask a private interview with him, without making any mention of his Affair. The Marshal thought it convenient, with the Advice of the other two
French
Marshals, to consent to it; and having agreed, that they should meet by themselves, and their Guards should be of an equal number; The Earl propos'd to him to remove some Differences there, that would require too long time at
Ryswick.
The Marshal being unwilling to undertake any thing without express Order from His Majesty, sent an Express to know his Will. The great desire the King had to make Peace, made him approve of what the Earl propos'd, without considering, perhaps, what advantage he might have over the Marshal, in a superiour Genius; and the inconvenience of putting him upon a level with a Marshal of
France,
an Honour His Majesty ought not to look upon as indifferent. It's true, as the King of
France
had advanced
Boufflers
from a Cadet of
Picardy,
to the Dignity of a Duke, Marshal of
France,
Governor of the most considerable Province of his Kingdom; And, in fine, of a Knight of his
Order:
So King
William
had rais'd the other from an ordinary Gentleman of
Guelderland,
to an Earl and Peer of
England,
and Knight of the Order of the
Garter.
But still there was this difference, that the one Commanded an Army, and the other never did: Besides, there was that also to be said, That
His most Christian Majesty
had never own'd King
William,
and so the
French
esteem'd only the Earl as the Favourite of a Prince, whom they had never recogniz'd as King.
King
William
was glad that His most Christian Majesty over-look'd all those considerations; not that he wanted to obtain a recognisance from him, as well as from other Crown'd Heads; but because he knew well that the
English
were as passionately desirous of a Peace as the
French.
Their Commerce was then at a stand; and, which is very surprising, the most Christian King had been a gainer by what was reckon'd his probable Ruin. After he had lost I do not know how many Ships at
la Hogue,
and was render'd uncapable of appearing at Sea; He had found his Account in the way of Piracy, and had taken so many Prizes both from the
English
and
Dutch,
that both of 'em were quite cast down. 'Tis inconceivable what an infinite number these Prizes are said to amount to; and tho' I have heard an account of it from one of the greatest Traders in
England,
who ought to know that Affair as well as any body, yet I shall be cautious of repeating it, for fear I should be charg'd with Credulity. In effect, the thing is so surprizing, that it astonishes one: But, after all, if we consider that these two Nations subsist only by their Commerce, and that the Sea was continually cover'd with their Vessels, so that the
French
had an opportunity of attacking 'em every minute with an advantage, especially when they were without Convoys; upon this consideration, I say, we may easily conceive how they came to sustain so great a loss. But let it be as it will, K.
William
being sensible of the necessity of a Peace, in order to be free from such Inconveniencies, order'd my Lord
Portland
to remove all the difficulties that might oppose it.
In the mean time K.
James
had but a sorry Game to play. Pursuant to the King's Promise of never making a Peace till he were restored, He had all along hop'd, that His Majesty would effect his Restoration sooner or later. And this his expectation was screw'd higher by the King's open Declaration to all
Europe,
that he would make his Promise good. Besides, that this unhappy Prince was turn'd out of his Dominions, only, because he would not declare against the King. He had been frequently Sollicited to oppose the King's Interest before the Prince of
Orange
came into his Place; and had he done that, no Potentate whatsoever would ever have consented to his being disquieted. Nay, to speak the Truth, 'twas a thing of too dangerous Consequence for the Potentates themselves; but that Prince having discover'd his firm Resolution to stand by the secret Alliance he had made with the King, all other Princes combin'd against him, because he would not joyn with them in reducing a Power that seem'd to threaten their Repose. This, the most Ch
istian King was very sensible of, and did not fail to acknowledge it. He did for him all that he could do, and offer'd both him and his Qeen a Retreat and Entertainment. Tho' he was engag'd in a War with the greatest part of
Europe,
yet he gave him fifty thousand
Louis d'Ors
a Year. 'Tis true, this was but a small allowance for the King of
England,
upon the comparison with what he had when he possess'd his Dominions; but 'twas a great deal for a Prince to give, that was at the same time oblig'd to maintain four or five hundred thousand Men, to make head against the numerous Enemies that his Grandeur had raised against him; and upon that score, doubtless K.
James
was oblig'd to him. But after all, 'twas not long of the King that he did not make good his Promise. The unfortunate Prince had been always guilty of the same Fault, that his Brother committed when he occasion'd the loss of the Battle of
Dunbar.
He caress'd the
Scots
in such a manner, that he himself oppos'd his own Restauration. His chief Minister was a
Scotchman,
and there having always been a great jealousie between the
English
and
Scots,
the preference he gave to the latter at his Court, alienated the Hearts of the former. This was the occasion, that a great many Enterprizes form'd on his behalf, never took; and forasmuch as that Prince had much more Devotion than Brains, as the
French
could not but lament his Fate, so they could not avoid saying, That tho' he had sunk himself by his bad Conduct, yet 'twas not reasonable they should suffer themselves to be suck'd in along with him. In fine, the King being much more oblig'd to his own Kingdom than to any other, could not avoid the giving him to know, That many things he did were directly opposite to his Interest. Nay, all his true Friends had told him the same thing upon several occasions, insomuch, that to satisfie the one and the other, he pretended to disgrace My Lord
Melfort,
Brother to the Chancellor of
Scotland.
This Minister was hated, not only at his Master's Court, but even by the
French,
who had attended
K. James
in
Ireland.
These alledg'd, That if it had not been for him, Things had. gone otherwise in that Country than they did Nay, some of 'em did not stand to charge him openly with keeping a Correspondence with the Enemies; affirming, that if it had not been so, he had never made such opposition as he did, against all that Mr.
Roses,
the most Christian King's Lieutenant General, proffer'd to attempt in that Country. And, in earnest, if the digression were excusable, I could easily make it out, that
that
Minister wanted either Conduct or Fidelity. God forbid, that I should affirm with others, that he entertain'd a Corespondence with K.
William.
But to over-look all these things, and return to my Subject, all these Circumstances oblig'd His most Christian Majesty to joyn with K.
William
in removing the Obstacles that might retard the Peace. The first Conference between Marshal
Boufflers
and my Lord
Portland,
was seconded quickly by several others. They adjusted several things that the Plenipotentaries at
Ryswick
would not have agreed upon in a Years time. However, at one of their Interviews, where several Officers were present on both sides, My Lord
Portland
hearing a discharge of Cannon and Musquets in the
French
Army, ask'd the Marshal what the meaning of it was: The Marshal made answer, That 'twas occasion'd by the News the King had sent of the Prince of
Conti
's Election to the Crown of
Poland.
This was matter of Fact; for Abbot
P
ignac
had dispatch'd a Courier to the Court to acquaint the King, that the Prince was proclaim'd King of
Poland
by the Cardinal Primate and some Palatines that sided with him. But this Intelligence included another part, namely, That the Elector of
Saxony
was likewise proclaim'd King, by the Bishop of
Cujavia,
and all the Partisans of the
House of Austria.
This ought, at least probably, to have prevented our making so much haste; and upon that score, my Lord
Portland
fell a Laughing; and told the Marshal, That, indeed, this spoke the
French
to be quicker than all other Nations; That they had formerly shewn the same disposition upon many Occasions; and that in this Affair, they still continu'd to have the start of their Allies; but in the mean time, the Allies having time enough to testifie their Joy, upon the advantages that accru'd to 'em, had resolv'd to stay till Night, or next Morning, before they gave a solemn proof of the Joy they were fill'd with, upon the News, That the Duke of
Saxony,
and not the Prince of
Conty,
had mounted that Throne.
The Marshal thought he Banter'd him, in proposing a Protestant for a Dignity, that could not be enjoy'd but by a Roman-Catholick. Had my Lord made mention of Prince
James,
it had made another sort of impression upon him. In fine, my Lord
Portland
having a mind that he should not flatter himself any longer, upon the imaginary Success of the
French
Party, gave him a naked account of the Matter. Upon this discovery, the Army that was Celebrating the Glory of the Prince of
Conty,
with a full admiration of his Valou
, were then mightily surpriz'd. However, they were unwilling to believe it; for that Nation can never be perswaded of any thing that tends to their disadvantage; whether it be, That this is a common Humour among other Nations, or, That they in particular are presumptuous upon their own Merit. But what inflam'd their suspicion, the Court, who knew the bottom of Things, more than any body else, was very silent upon the Matter, after the Solemnity was over. Their design in the Solemnity, was only to perswade the People, That their Interest went well in
Poland;
and so to comfort 'em, in some measure, for the loss of the Money they had sent thither. The People were the more willing to shew their Congratulation, That all of 'em had not only a Respect, but a Love for the Prince of
Conty;
nay, they even ador'd him; so true it is, That a good Reputation is able to produce marvellous Effects in the Minds of the People.
I cannot tell what the Prince's own Thoughts were, or whether he believ'd the Report, of the reality of his Election. He made no discovery of his Mind. Those who were accustom'd to weigh Things before they c
dit 'em, took the liberty to speak
Mind. Some were of opinion, That supposi
case had been as favourable, as it was represented, yet they could not make it bear, withou
Blows. They were likewise sensible, That the War they were oblig'd to undertake upon that account, would be very disadvantageous to 'em. They knew very well, that the Duke of
Saxony
was a powerful Prince, and that his Confederate Princes had their Troops conveniently Posted; that they could easily conduct 'em to
Poland,
without any danger; whereas, the Troops to be sent from
France,
would be oblig'd to imbark in some Sea-Port of the
French
landers,
and land in the Neighbourhood of certain Potentates, whose Affection to the Prince of
Conty,
the King had some reason to doubt.
The Prince of
Conty,
perceiving he would be oblig'd to unsheath his Sword, if he meant to make good his Election, durst not display the Affliction he was under, upon the view of leaving a Mistress, that he lov'd as passionately as a Crown. His only aim, was to please the King, who press'd him to accept of that Crown, as well for his own Interest, as out of the Love he bore him. However, such a degree of indifference was very odd, in a Prince of his Courage, and a Nephew of the Prince of
Conde.
One would have thought, that he would have exerted his utmost efforts, to mount the Throne, since his Uncle, upon a design of that nature, had not only rais'd a Civil War in his Country, but put himself at the Head of the Capital Enemies of his King and Country. Some days pass'd without any noise, only the King saluted the Prince and Princess, as King and Queen of
Poland.
In like manner, all the Grandees pay'd 'em the Respect suitable to that Dignity; and in order to give a colour for his not departing to receive the Crown, 'twas given out, That Ambassadors were expected from
Poland,
to fetch him. The more credulous sort of People satisfy'd themselves with this News; but the more sensible part of Mankind, were more distrustful than ever, of the validity of the Election. They own'd, indeed, That to wait the Arrival of Ambassadors, was a Thing of more Glory, than to depart before their Arrival; but, at the same time, they alledg'd, (and that very justly) That 'twas not expedient, when a Crown is not disputed, and that the Crown being promis'd to him, he was so far from being ty'd to that
, that he ought to set out with the utmost
, and appear at the Head of his Party; le
t, for want of his Presence, many should be corrupted, and drawn over to his Enemy
Fr
nce
had not forgot, That the occasion of the War they were then engag'd in, (which in a manner threaten'd their very Throne) was their unseasonable Difference with the Pope; and upon that view, were sensible, That tho' His Holiness had not so much Interest in this Affair, as in the former; yet they ought not to neglect him. In order to secure his Favour, They represented, with the utmost application, their suspicion of the Elector of
Saxony
's Conversion. Indeed, that was a very nice Point; and all Men, tho' never so partial, were sensible, That his declaring for the
Roman
Religion, had more of Ambition in it, than Devotion. However, the Pope being unwilling that a Protestant Prince should Sit upon that Throne, was so much against the Elector, that one would have thought he could never be for him. Besides, the Cardinal-Primate sent a Courier, to assure him, That the Interest of the Catholick Religion was entirely ruin'd, if he suffer'd the Elector to be prefer'd to the Prince of
Conty.
This Message, he was prompted to, as well by his Interest, as by his Zeal for the
Roman
Religion; for the Bishop of
Cujavia
had incroach'd upon the Privileges of the Archbishop of
Gnesne,
which justly claims the sole Right of Proclaiming the Elected King.
In the mean time, there happen'd a Quarrel between Husband and Wife, in one of the principal Families retaining to the Court. 'Twas neither occasion'd by Jealousie, nor the disproportion of Tempers, as such Differences commonly are; but by a very odd Adventure, when the one approv'd of a Thing, that the other did not. We must know, that a Noble
Venetian,
not a Member of the Senate, but one of the Nobles of the
Terrafirma,
being Marry'd to a Lady that he lov'd very tenderly, had so much Complaisance, as to satisfie her Curiosity, by carrying her to see
France.
But tho' the Beauty of
France
draws so many Strangers to visit it, yet her design was only to have it said, that she resembled the Queen of
Sheba,
in coming so far to see the Glory of
Solomon.
She had heard a thousand great Things of the King and His Reign; and being fond of seeing with her Eyes, whether the Reports were true, or enlarg'd beyond the due extent, she came on purpose along with her Husband to
Versailles;
in order to make the discovery. Such an Adventure as this, was only wanting to compleat the History of the King; and those who are employ'd in Writing it, will take care not to forget it. However, the Husband and his Wife appearing of a sudden at Court, Mr.
Bontems,
Governor of the Castle, had a mind to know who they were, pursuant to the King's Orders, injoyning him to take notice of all the unknown Faces that appear'd there. Accordingly, he caus'd to ask 'em, Who they were? and what brought 'em there? He was the more particular in his Questions, in that he heard their Equipage was a true
Bohemian
Equipage; and had serv'd to amuse not only Men of Sense, but even the very Children. When the Question was ask'd 'em, they were surpriz'd, for that such Conduct was inconsistent with the Liberty that Reigns in their Country. But being inform'd, that all unknown Faces were treated the same way, the Noble
Venetian
would needs go in Person, to acquaint Mr.
Bontems
with the occasion of their Voyage. Mr.
Bontems
was surpriz'd to hear of his Complaisance, and having spoke of it to the King, was order'd to bring 'em both to see him Dine. To recompence the charge they were at, they were plac'd in the most convenient Place, for having a full view of the King. I cannot tell what their Thoughts were, or whether they said what the Queen of
Sheba
said of
Solomon;
but all the Courtiers being acquainted with their Errand, none of 'em us'd 'em so, as one not long ago was by
John Bart,
one of the famousest Pyrates that the King had during the last War; if it be lawful to give that Title to a Man that obey'd the King's Orders. Pray God forbid, that in using that expression, I should mean to reflect upon the Methods us'd by that Prince, for disturbing the Repose of his Enemies. I am too sensible of the Respect we ought to have for Supream Powers, to indulge my self in that liberty. And I am likewise sensible, That he having so many Enemies upon him, shew'd in that; as in all other things, the depth of his judgment.
To return to my subject,
John Bart
having the curiosity (as well as these Foreigners) to see the King Dine, there came a Person dignify'd with a Blue Ribbon, that finding he had a good Place, took it from him, without being over-aw'd by his Mein, which speaks him more a simple Tarpallion, than a Commander of a Squadron.
John Bart
had heard, that some Compliment was due to a Blue Ribbon; however, he took him by the Coat, upon which the Badges of his Knighthood were fix'd, and told him, with a loud Voice,
Mr. Blue Ribbon, pray give me my Place; you see the King when you will; but for me who does not see him but at the four Festivals of the Year, 'tis but reasonable that I should not tamely suffer my self to be robb'd of an advantage that I enjoy so seldom.
The King hearing that, fell a Laughing; and told the Gentleman with the blue Ribbon, That
Bart
was in the right; and that 'twas His Pleasure, that he should give
Bart
his Place, and rather stand behind him, than affront him in that manner. Upon that,
John Bart
being better known on Board, than at Court, the Blue-Ribbon Spark turn'd about to view him; and apprehending his Mein to be much different from his Reputation, whisper'd to a Duke that was just by him, That if the Noble
Venetian,
and his Lady, had receiv'd as little satisfaction from the sight of the King, as he had from that of
John Bart,
they would be sure to grudge their Money. But that could not be; for tho' the King is very much alter'd from what he was, yet he still preserves his good Mein; insomuch, that 'tis still visible, that he has been a very graceful Man.
In fine, they were far from meeting with what
John Bart
did; for every body knew they came too far, not to have the opportunity of seeing the King. But they had no sooner receiv'd satisfaction in that point, than they return'd to
Italy.
'Tis said, they staid only three days at
Paris;
and that, rather to rest themselves, than to see the Curiosities of the Place. This Scene being Acted in the Face of the whole Court, and being the common subject of Discourse; the Person of Quality, I pointed to above, happening to Talk of it to his Lady, a Quarrel ensued, after this manner: The Lady told her Husband, That if she were to wish for any thing in this World, it should be this, That she might have as Complaisant a Husband, as that
Venetian
Lady; he having undertaken a Journey of almost 1000 Leagues, on purpose to please her; and by that means shewn the greatest instances of a pliant Temper, that any Man can ever shew. Her Husband reply'd, That his Conduct did not speak so much a flexible Temper, as Folly; and that, for his part, if he had a Wife, that would desire such a thing of him, he would look on her as the greatest and most extravagant Fool, not only in
Paris,
but even in
Bedlam.
Each of 'em maintain'd their Sentiments with great warmth; and the Lady told him, That it seem'd he was not in the humour to satisfie her, in case she desir'd to see the Emperor, or the King of
Spain.
The Gentleman made answer, That if ever that Maggot took her, he would not content himself with shutting her up in
Bedlam,
but would stifle her with his own Hands, as a Mad-woman. Perhaps he only said so, to signifie the aversion he had for these two Princes, who were the King's Enemies: But the Lady putting a Literal meaning upon the reply, they came to high Words, and quarrel'd outright,
This was the Product of the Complaisance that a Noble
Venetian
shew'd to his Lady: But in the mean while, there happen'd an Accident at Court, that was yet more surprizing, and that one Day, will perplex the Historians, tho' they are not very fond of sounding the truth of it. There's a little Town in
Provence,
call'd
Salon,
that formerly gave Birth to
Nostradamus,
a Man very well known at this Day, by his Centuries; some of which have come to pass in so convincing a manner, that what was formerly obscure, is now as clear as Sunshine. Among these Articles, I reckon what relates to the Death of
Charles
I. King of
England,
and that of Mr.
de Cinqumares,
provided still, that these were not foisted after-hand into his Works. But let that be as it will, this Town which produc'd a sort of a Prophet in the preceding Age, has furnish'd us with one in this; or at least, such a Character is given of a certain Gentleman, that appear'd then at Court, of whom this is the History. About that time, the pretended Ghost of that famous Astrologer abovemention'd, appear'd to a Man of this City. I know not whether it was by Night or by Day; but this I know, That the Apparition put the Man in a great fear; and above all things, advis'd him, not to mention to any body, what he spoke to him; nay, he did not except his Wife; and the Man made a sign with his Head, importing, that he would obey him; for he was at that time Speechless, and fear had so much influence upon him, that he could not open his Mouth. Thereupon the Apparition advis'd him to go to the Intendant of
Provence,
and give him to know from him, That he should give him Letters, to introduce him to the King: It represented further, That it would not tell him presently what he was to say before the King, but that he would appear again to him, when he should come near to
Versailles,
and there teach him his Lesson.
Upon that, the Apparition disappear'd, and left him for Dead, so much was the Man frightned by his Wonders, as well as by his dismal Aspect. After some time, the Man came to himself; but so, as that 'twas plain he had something extraordinary in his Head. His Wife ask'd him what it was; but the Prohibition, laid upon him by the Apparition, kept him from discovering any thing for some time. At last, his Wife having us'd a thousand Wheedles, to make him reveal his Mind; he open'd his Mouth I know not how often, in order to recount the Adventure, and shut it as often again; by reason that the Apparition had back'd the Prohibition with such Threats, as scar'd him. He told his Wife, That he should dye, if ever he broke Silence upon the Matter; and the fear that this should come to pass, stiffed his Words, when he was most tempted to speak.
His Wife's Curiosity was inflam'd by his reserv'dness; she press'd him more than ever to reveal the Secret. The Husband reply'd, That his Life depended upon it, and that he could not do it. But that Word screw'd up her Curiosity to the last degree. In fine, she would not let him be easie, till he made the discovery; and the poor Man being foolishly fond of her, had no sooner acquainted her with the Apparition, and the discourse that pass'd, than he fell down quite Dead upon the spot. Upon this, the Woman was as much astonish'd as he was, when the Ghost appear'd to him. But after second Thoughts, she constru'd the discourses he utter'd before his Death, to be only the effect of a Brain disturb'd by a Mortal Sickness, and told nothing of the Matter; or if she did, 'twas with such an Air, as if she had taken his Discovery, for the Ravings of a distemper
d Brain.
This Accident made no great Noise in
Salon,
or the adjacent places; which certainly it would, if it had been fully known: Nay, the People there, did dot so much as mind it; for every one, as well as his W
e, believ'd that the Man's Brai
s were
ut of order, when he talk'd of his Vision. But at the s
me time, the Vision appear'd to another Inhabitent of the same City, and made him the same Compliment; and he was as foolish as the other; f
r he spoke of it that same day to the Curate, and his indiscretion was follow'd by the same
ate; for he di
d upon the spot. The noise of his Death, and the manner of it, being spread abroad, the People recall'd to their memory, what was said upon the Death of the other. This was the only subject of discourse all
ver
Salon,
and for 20 Leagues round it; nay, every body took the liberty to Comment upon it. But in the mean time, the Vision appear'd to a Blacksmith, whose House was not far from those of the two Men, I spoke of but now. 'Tis possible, he was as much afraid, as the other two; but their example being recent, and of too great consequence, to suffer him to be guilty of the same fault; he was very attentive to the Words utter'd by the Ghost; and immediately upon its disappearance, went to the Intendant, pursuant to its orders. That Magistrate gave Audience every day, to all that had any business with him; so that, the Smith had no occasion for any one to introduce him: But his Story being such as could not well be told publickly, he beg'd of him, that he would retire with him to his Closet, because he had an Affair of extream Consequence to imp
rt. The Intendant, seeing that the Man made
ut a sorry appearance, could not conjecture, wh
this important Affair might be. But being oblig'd to hear every one, and to neglect nothing relating to his Post, he desir'd him to stay a little, till he had given Audience to the rest; after which, he would hear him at his leisure. Accordingly, after the general Audience was over, he and the Smith retir'd to his Closet.
Then the Blacksmith acquainted him, That the Affair he was about to open, would at first view seem to be a pure Whim; and that he knew he would be dismiss'd for a Fool; that to prevent such apprehensions, he told him so much before-hand; and in fourteen Days time, he would send to see for him, being then sensible of his error, in treating him as a Man troubled with Maggots. In fine, he set forth the occasion of his coming thither, namely, That a Vision having appear'd a Month ago to two different Persons, (that certainly he had heard of, upon the account of the fatal Consequences) had likewise appear'd to him, very lately; That it had order'd him to come to the Intendant, to desire he might be sent to the King; That it had promis'd to appear again to him, at
Versailles,
or near to it, in order to instruct him in what he was to say to His Majesty; That accordingly, he came to discharge his Commission faithfully; and upon that score, was not afraid of meeting with the same Fate, that befel the other two.
The Intendant had heard something of this odd Adventure; but had always taken it for a fabulous Fiction; and, pursuant to that Thought, check'd the Man in a strange manner. He ask'd him, If that was his way to abuse an Intendant's Time, every minute of which he knew to be precious; and at the same time, gave him to know, that he deserv'd nothing but a Goal. The Man reply'd, That his Threats made no impression upon him, for that the Vision had sufficiently prepar'd him; That he would return home, since the Intendant order'd him so to do; and that he would only have the trouble of returning, when the Intendant should send for him.
Tho' the Intendant us'd him at this rate, yet he had a deep impression of what he said. His talking so sensibly, and so unlike a distemper'd Head, was sufficient to suggest some Reflection to the Intendant; especially, if we joyn to this the former reports of that Apparition. In effect, the Marshal was no sooner gone, but the Intendant wrote to the Lieutenant General of
Salon,
praying him to acquaint him, Whether the reports of that Apparition were true, or false? But to prevent the communication of retractible Things, he order'd him to draw up a formal Information, in case he found any credit due to the reports that were spread abroad. At the same time, he desir'd a Character of the Man that had been with him; for he had taken down his Name at first, and wanted to know, whether he was always reckon'd a Man of Sense, such as he appear'd to be. He likewise order'd him, to enquire, whether there ever were any of his Family, either by the Father or Mother-side, that were Rattle brain'd. For if any such had been found out by chance, he had not fail'd to infer from thence, that he imitated their example, and by consequence, that no stress was to be laid upon what he said.
The Lieutenant obey'd this Letter punctually. He drew up an Information, and sent it to the Intendant; by which he saw, that all the reports of the Apparition, and its consequences, were true; and that the Marshal was always reputed a Man of good Sense. The Lieutenant likewise g
ve an account of his Family; which contain'd
thing that could hinder the Intendant to
the Court with the Affair. Accordingly, he Wrote of it to the Marquis of
Barbesieux,
Secretary of State; but he did it in such a way, as signified, that he only look'd upon the Man as a Mad-man. For, he did not only set forth his own incredulity upon the Matter, but the Measures he had taken to prevent his being impos'd upon; and sent him the Information he had caus'd to be taken at
Salon.
By this he mean'd, and justly indeed, to justifie, That if there was any imposition in the Matter, he was not the first Author of it. His plea was, That the Magistrate of
Salon,
being upon the place, ought to know the Matter of Fact best; upon which, he concluded, That if he was deceiv'd, the fault ought not to lie upon him. He thought himself oblig'd, in a particular manner, to season his Letter with a great many Circumstances, to clear himself from too much Credulity in that Minister's Opinion; for that the Marquis being very Young, must be less Credulous than other People. He knew, that at such an Age as he was of, such things are hardly credited; and that even the Apparition of
Samuel
would meet with no Faith from them, if it were not spoke of in the Books that cannot be call'd in question, without Sacrilege. But the Marquis was more Credulous than one would have thought. He Writ him an Answer, probably, after speaking of it to the King; importing, That he might send him the Man, but so, as not to give any ground for charging either the one or the other with any Weakness.
The Intendant receiving this Order, injoyn'd the Lieutenant-General of
Salon
to send him the Man, upon the pretence, of answering to the Information he had made, pursuant to his Order. Accordingly, the Blacksmith waited upon him, and told him at first meeting, That he had said before, 'twould not be long before he sent for him again. The Intendant made answer, That he did not send for him upon the design he thought of, but to reprimand him for meaning to impose upon him. By this Representation, he thought to turn the Tables upon him, in order to satisfie the Marquis's caution. But the Man knowing that he was guilty of nothing that could merit a reprimand, the Conference ended in this, That the Intendant gave him to know, that if he were as much perswaded of the Fact as he would have him believe he would be so far from hindring him to go to
V
sailles,
that he would give him Introductory-Letters to the Marquis of
Barbesieux,
and to facilitate his Journey, would give him a place in the first Recruit-Convoy that was to go that way. The Man did not care which way he went, so he could but satisfie the desire of the Vision; and accordingly, agreed to what was propos'd. There was a Company of Recruits just ready to be gone, which an Officer of the Town of
had rais'd, and which were to pass near
Paris.
The Intendant recommended the Blacksmith to him, and gave him some Mony to give him when he par
d from him. That Officer carry'd him to
erte
under
J
narre,
after having Wrote to the Intendant, in obedience to his Command, That he could
nothing in the Man, but what bec
me a Wi
e man: For the Intendant had desir'd him to observe him narrowly upon the Road, to the end, that if he discover'd any turn of Thought in him, he might acquaint the Marquis o
Barbesieux
with it.
The Blacksmith being thus arriv'd at
ert
took leave o
the Officer, and repair
d to
Versailles,
where he did not knew what to
ay, because the Ghost had not yet appear
d to him. But the very Night that he arriv'd, while he was in great perplexity, he heard (as he says) one undraw his Curtain, while he was full awake. Upon that, the Ghost appear'd to him, bid him fea
nothing, and gave him to know, That both the Secretary of State, and the King, would give him a Well-come Reception, notwithstanding the difficulties he met with at first. Being thus instructed in what he was to say, both to the Marquis, and the King; he was at the same time, strictly charg'd, never to divulge what was then told him, to any body, excepting His Majesty. The Ghost acquainted him, That the Marquis of
Barbesieux,
would endeavour, by all means, to pump the Secret out of him; but that he was to conceal it from him, as well as from every body else; for if he fail'd in that piece of Obedience, he should infallibly meet with the same Fate as befel the two Men in his Town.
The Ghost disappear'd immediately; and the Blacksmith having no great inclination to Sleep longer, went in the morning to wait upon the Marquis of
Barbesieux,
and deliver'd him the Intendant's Letter. The Marquis immediately call'd him to his Closet, where they both continu'd for above an hour. The report of the Blacksmith's ensuing Arrival, had been spread all over the Court before he came. For upon his departure from
Provence,
Letters were sent to Town; and he was every where stil'd,
The Prophet,
forasmuch as no body doubted, but that he was going to Prophesie something to the King, and had undertook that Journey only for that end. In the mean time, every body was mightily desirous to know what the Matter was; and there being always some, that pretend to refine upon Things beyond their Neighbours, a Report was spread abroad, That he had been put upon at the same rate as
James Clement
in former Times, tho' not in order to commit such a detestable Action as he did, but to acquaint His Majesty under so fair a covert, a great many things, that could not otherwise reach his Ears. I do not speak this, as if I believ'd it; for I know very well, that these are only pleasant Whims, familiar to those, who, for want of business, employ their whole time in Commenting upon whatever happens.
However, according to the Ghost's Prediction, the Marquis of
Barbesieux
endeavour'd to work the Secret out of the Blacksmith: But the Smith reply'd, That all his efforts upon that score would be fruitless, in regard he had a Lesson prescrib'd to him, which he was oblig'd to observe, under the pain of being punish'd upon the spot; but to shew that his advances were not Chimerical, he might give His Majesty to know, That the last time he Hunted at
Fontainbleau,
he was suddenly surpriz'd with an Apparition, which put him into a great astonishment; That the same Ghost which appear'd to him, had at that time appear'd to His Majesty, and that his Horse had seen it, and started aside, as if he would have thrown him; That the Apparition did not continue above a moment, which occasion'd His Majesty's apprehension, of being mistaken, and his speaking of it to no body; and that all this hapned to His Majesty only, in order to procure him access to the King, by shewing, That he knew what none else in his Dominions was acquainted with. Upon these reasons, he hop'd His Majesty would make no difficulty in giving him Audience.
The Marquis of
Barbesieux
was much surpriz'd at the hearing of such a Circumstance as that, which would quickly discover, whether there was any thing Supernatural in this Man's Pretensions, or whether he was an Impostor. And, in earnest, if the King confirm'd the Matter of Fact, undoubtedly he must have known something beyond a Natural Capacity. The Marquis acquainted the King with his Arrival, and with the Story he told; and all he had said, being, as 'tis alledg'd, found true, the King granted him a private Audience. What pass'd in this Interview, no-body can tell, because 'twas kept as a profound Secret. All we know, is, That the pretended Prophet having stay'd some days at Court, while few knew that he had the honour to speak with the King; His Majesty agreed, that he should come and take leave of him publickly, when he took Coach to go a Hunting. The Duke of
Duas,
Captain of the Life-Guard, no sooner saw him, but he told the King, That if he had not order'd him to admit such a Fellow to approach His Person, he had been far from doing it, because he was certainly a Fool, or else His Majesty was much put upon. A great many others about Court were of his Mind; for people are not easily convinc'd of such things as these. But the King took his part, and gave the Captain to know, that he was out in his Judgment, and that he had more Sense than he thought for.
This Expression was evidence, that he had told the King some very odd Things; for otherwise, the King would never have given himself the trouble to make such Declaration of his Thoughts. It awak'd the Curiosity of all Mankind; and every-body would have given any thing to know the result of his Conference with His Majesty, and
Barbesieux.
The Marquis's Friends pump'd him upon the matter; but he told 'em frankly, that 'twas in vain, in regard there was something in the matter that challeng'd his Secrecy. The vulgar People, who are naturally very credulous, fancy'd, that his Business with the King, was to Preach up the suppression of the Imposts, that Necessity had oblig'd him to lay upon 'em, in the time of so cruel a War. The Prophet having taken leave of the King, return'd to his own Country; and the Marquis of
Barbesieux
having given him Mony at his arrival, and order'd him to converse with no body repeated his Bounty to him when he went. So that the Prophet spoke nothing of the matter to any-body while he was there; and indeed, he could not well do it, if he would, for he was always kept within view.
Such an extraordinary Adventure as this did not fail to make a great deal of noise all over
Paris,
and even the whole Kingdom; but notwithstanding that the appearance of Prodigies ought to make People reflect upon their Duty; yet I do not find that this made any Reformation of Manners. Debauchery continued still to Reign among Men and Women; and the exemplary Piety of the King, and part of the Court, had no effect upon the Libertine Spirits. His Majesty, who, ever since his application to Devotion, has made it his Business to extirpate Vice, not only out of those about his Person, but even those who live at a distance, held at that time a Council of Conscience, at which the Archbishop of
Paris,
and some other Prelates, with Father
de la Cha
se
his Confessor, were call'd to assist. In that Assembly, several methods were propos'd for preventing the usual disorders among the Officers and Soldiers. The Archbishop of
Paris
being a very z
lous Man, cry'd up His Majesty's pious Intention; and gave the rest to understand, that they ought to joyn all their Force in bringing it to bear. For this purpose, 'twas propos'd, That a Missionary should be sent to each Regiment, in order to Preach to 'em, and Catechise 'em every day. But it being answer'd, That Missionaries would scarce be
ound to undertake the Office, by reason of their necessary Residence with the Regiments; another motion was made and agreed to. I know not indeed whether it has yet produc'd the desired effect but what is not yet done, may be done here after; and that Time will discover. The motion was, That none should be imploy'd as Almoners of Regiments, but those who are Persons of pious and good Lives, and who have Men of Merit to vouch for 'em: And that at the conclusion of every Campagne they should be oblig'd to repair to the Seminaries, and continue there all Winter. To speak the truth, I must say this is an effectual Scheme for having no Almoners but such as are quite different from what they now are. But I question if they'll find any that will submit to that sort of Life. Most people put in for those Places only to divert themselves; and as soon as they find what constraint is mean'd 'em, they'll rather desert than submit to it. Probably that is the reason that the Thing is not yet put in Execution, and perhaps never will.
While measures were concerting for the introducing of such excellent Discipline among the Troops; one of these Almoners being imprison'd by the King's Order, in one of the Hospitals for the Poor, made a strange End after a very odd Life. He was a Recollet by Trade; but being uneasy under the confinement of a Convent, he procur'd a Dismission under the pretence of serving in this Imployment, which by Intrigues, and the Interest of Friends, he had obtain'd. He had continued in that Office some time; and as those who are once in any measure Corrupted, do quickly become more Corrupt in an Army; so he form'd a design to render himself so necessary at Court, by a false Accusation, that he might be in a capacity to throw off his Habit which he
r
with as much uneasiness as formerly he did the confinement of the Cloyster. He had his eye upon one, Abbot
Agnan,
who, of a Fryer, had made himself a Chymist Physician. He had a strong mind to follow his Example, not in practising Physick which he did not understand, but in wearing the Habit of a secular Priest, instead of that of a Religious one. His Plea was, That since they had allow'd that Abbot to dispense with his Vows upon the pretence of some Cures, he might obtain the same favour by some signal Service. Upon that view he repair'd to the Marquis of
Chateauneuf,
Secretary of State, who manag'd the Affairs of Religion, and privately acquainted him, That an Officer of the Regiment to which he was Almoner, had a design upon the King's Life: He knew that
that
Officer was oblig'd to go off then, or next morning, to some forreign Country, as well as a great many others who would not change their Religion. Nay, he had counsel'd him so to do, and promis'd to come and see him, tho' he mean'd nothing less.
The Marquis of
Chateauneuf,
who is, in many things, the least of all the four Secretaries of State, if it be Lawful to call any thing
little
that's about so great a Prince, sent Orders immediately to Arrest the Officer, and commanded the Recollet to continue at Court. In the mean time, the Officer was gone, which the Recollet knew very well: However the Marquis being inform'd of his Departure, told the Recollet he was come too late, and that the Bird was flown three days before. The Recollet made Answer, That
that
was none of his fault, and that he could not do the Business sooner; That after all, he believ'd he was only gone to
Languedoc,
his Native Country, where he would be sure to keep close; and that in regard, he told him most of his haunts, he believ'd he could unkennel him, if the Marquis would sent him to that Country. The Marquis continued still to believe what he said, and accordingly he send him to
Languedoc,
where the Recollet arriv'd very speedily, with the Mony he had got for the Charge of the Journey. He had a permission upon his going out of
Paris
to put on a Gentleman's Habit. But, at last, having drill'd on the Affair as long as he could; the Minister of State not offering to incourage him any longer, he return'd to this City, where he was inform'd, that the Marquis design'd to take him up. The Marquis begun to see thro' his Knavety, and would not suffer himself to be impos'd upon any longer. The Recollet came to know this piece of News very luckily. It fe
l out, by chance, that in the very Inn at which he alighted, there was one of the Cousins of the Person he had accus'd, to whom Mr.
de Chateauneuf
had communicated his Thoughts. Now, this Relation had told Mr.
deChateauneuf,
that his Cousin was, indeed, a true Protestant; but he could be Surety, that he was not capable of the Thought he was charg'd with. At the same time, he had wrote to his Cousin, to know the truth of the thing; upon which, the Officer receiving such information, wrote himself to Mr.
de Chateauneuf,
setting forth, That he was ready to return to
France,
to clear himself of the Accusation, if the King would grant him a Passport, and Assurance that he should not be troubled upon the score of his retiring to a foreign Counntry, contrary to his Prohibition.
This Letter was but just receiv'd, and the Relation having been at
Versailles
that day, told all the People about the Inn, the whole Story as a piece of acceptable News: But the Recollet was wiser than to discover what hand he had in the matter. Upon that, he drop'd his Design of going to wait upon Mr.
Chateauneuf,
and took up at another Inn under a different Name from what he had before: Nay, further, he bought such a Cross as the Knights of
Malta
wear, and put a white Feather in his Hat, and went by the Title of Mr.
le Chevalier.
The People of the first Inn
seeing him next day, were surpriz'd, for that
had told them nothing of his going. But,
, the Officer's Kinsman had never suspected him, if the Recollet had not said at Table, that he came from
Languedoc;
for somebody telling him so much, happen'd, by way of Jest, to say, That, perhaps, he was the Man he had been speaking of, and for that reason had deserted the Inn. Upon this, the Kinsman return'd next day to
Versailles,
to know what sort of a Man the Recollet was. Mr.
Chateauneuf
's Description agreeing exactly with what he had seen, he acquainted the Minister with what pass'd at Table, and with the suspicion that he grounded thereupon. Immediately the Secretary gave such express Orders for searching all the Inns in
Paris,
that the Recollet could scarce escape: For the excellent Orders we have in this City, with reference to all strangers, whether in Inns, or private Lodgings, are so admirably well calculated, that 'tis no great difficulty to make a narrow Enquiry: All the Landlords being obliged to give an account who are their Lodgers, and when they arriv'd; the Commissary of the Ward where the pretended Knight lodg'd, was informed by the Inn-keeper, that he had got a new Guest. Thereupon the Commissary observing the time of his arrival, to jump with that of the suspected Person's, he inform'd himself of his Features, and so took him up; so that his pretended Knight-hood was not sufficient to keep him
Incognito.
Presently he was convey'd either to the
Bastile
or
Vincennes,
where he endeavoured to make his escape; but being prevented, and being at the same time guilty of a horrid piece of Sacrilege, he was indited according to his demerit. The Recollets interceeded for him, to prevent the mortification of its being said in the World, That one of their Society was either Hang'd or Burnt. The King graciously granted their request, and exchang'd the Sentence of Death for that of perpetual Imprisonment. So he was put into the Hospital I spoke of but now; but he was no sooner got in, than he made a new Conspiracy with the other Russians to make their escape; now, this could scarce be effected without Killing him that brought 'em their Victuals. But that being not the first Crime they had all been guilty of, they mutually agreed, that they should not stand to do it. In effect, they committed the Murder, and having made their escape, fled to the
Palais Royal
where they had an acquaintance by whom they expected to be entertain'd. But their Acquaintance abhorring the Crime they had committed, and knowing they had broke the Prison to which they had been committed by the King's Orders, refus'd to receive 'em. Thus they were oblig'd to look out for another hiding Place: But the Goal-Keeper being already at their Heels, they were quickly retaken and Tried. The poor Recollet, by vertue of the Interest of his Order, was only Condemned to the Galleys; but God not contented with this Punishment which was infinitely short of his demerit, did so order it, that the Gang offering to revolt against their Keepers, about fifteen or twenty Leagues from
Paris,
these shot upon 'em, and Kill'd the wretched Recollet. Such was his End, and the King having notice of it, was the more forward in reforming the Almoners of the Army; for that he knew 'twas in that capacity that he first began to signalize himself by Debauchery and Corruptness,
In the mean time, we receiv'd the News of the King of
Sweden
's Death, which gave the Potentates that desir'd a Peace, some occasion to fear some obstacle, or delay. But tho' his Successor was very young; and 'twas to be feared, that a great many Turmoils might fall out in that Kingdom, during his Minority; yet his Father's Will was so well order'd, that it put all to rights. His Son was declar'd to be
Major,
or of Age, before the usual Term in
Sweden,
in order to discourage those who mean'd to disturb the State. At the same time, the young King's Grandmother being declar'd his Guardian by her Son's Will, took upon her the Administration of the Government. The late King had nominated some Counsellors to assist her; among the rest the Count of
Bielke,
a zealous favourer of the House of
Austria,
who had been formerly Ambassador at the Court of
France,
and was disoblig'd there. However, it being fear'd that he might endeavour to disturb our Game, perhaps as much out of private resentment, as any intention to serve the Crown of
Spain
Count;
d'Avaux,
the most Christian King's Ambassador in that Country, had orders to have a watchful Eye upon his Conduct. I know not whether it was the bad Offices done him by Count
d'Avaux,
or his being guilty of several unwarrantable Practices when he was Governor of
Pomeren,
that brought him quickly to be disgrac'd; but, in fine, he perceiving that he was like to sink under the Power of his Enemies, wrote to one of his Nephews in
France,
to intreat his Maiesty to forget what was past, and grant him the honour of his Protection. Immediately, upon the receipt of the Letter, his Nephew spoke of it to the King: And the Count's hopes were not frustrated; for the King allowed him to come to
France,
pursuant to his request; but the Letter, by which his Nephew gave him this Advice, being intercepted by some of his Enemies, he was taken up.
At that time, Mr.
Lasun
had only two Occupations, namely, Pleading and Gaming. But as he grew Old, Fortune, which only serves Youth, became as unfavourable to him as it had formerly been kind. 'Twas computed, that in the space of three or four Months he lost above sixty thousand Pistols. 'Tis certain he lost a great deal; but it being known that sixty thousand Pistols, in the
Gascogne
way of speaking, does not amount to above five or six thousand, others concluded that his loss might terminate there. He was likewise cast in a Law-Suit against Madam
Fremont,
and her Son; and was more cast down upon that, than upon his loss at Game; for he still hop'd to regain the latter, but the Judgment against him excluded all hopes of relief. Besides, he was troubled that he had made such a noise about it, both at Court, and in the City, without better success. All his Friends endeavoured to comfort him; and, to speak the truth, they were not much dissatisfied with the rub he met with, because they hop'd it would facilitate his Accommodation with Marshal
de Lorges
and his Lady. But stiffness is so natural to old People, that their hopes vanish'd in Smoak. He was a turbulent sort of a Man all his Life-time; insomuch, that he oftentimes thwarted the King: and he would not then disclaim that Quality, tho', indeed, 'twas none of the best. The Judgment pronounced against him, related only to the Question, whether he was to plead before the Court of
Aydes,
or that of
Requests.
Now, being remitted to the last, which was the thing he only wanted to avoid, he resolv'd to plead his Cause there, tho' he should meet with the same success that happen'd to him in
Ireland.
Tho', after all' I know not what reason he had to fear any such thing; for he shew'd, by his Carriage before them, that he fear'd K.
William
uch less than them.
However, he was not the only Courtier that lov'd to be litigious. The P. of
Epinois
follow'd his Example very close. He commenc'd a Suit before the Council against the Prince of
Bournonville,
for the succession to the Vicounty of
Gand,
to which they were equally related. The case had been already decided by the Parliament of
Rouan,
in favour of the Prince of
Bournonville.
But great Lords are more liable to the pursuit of ill Causes than others, because their Intendants and Agents want only to have 'em ingag'd to a disadvantage, that they may fish in troubled Waters. His true Friends gave him to know, That they fear'd he would he cast before the Council, as well as before the Parliament. Upon this, he redoubled his Sollicitations, hoping by his Intrigues and diligence to gain what he was apprehensive of losing in the Court of Justice. The two Princesses, his Wife and his Mother, took care likewise to make use of their Friends. His Wife endeavoured to perswade 'em, that she desired nothing but Justice, hoping to blind 'em by their respect for her Quality. But the Mother was less presumptuous, whether 'twas that she thought she was no longer to be consider'd as a Princess, having the Reputation of being married to a Lawyer, or that she was sensible of the weakness of her Son's Cause: Accordingly she confin'd her hopes to the Interest of her pretended Husband. The P. of
Bournonville,
for his part, was not asleep, being sensible that he had to do with a strong party: But 'twould be a great folly in Judges to have more regard to Interest than Justice; and all that the Prince
D'Epinois,
and his whole Family could do, could not prevent his being fin'd, and oblig'd to pay the Costs. Indeed the Debate lasted above five Hours, because some of the Judges had a mind to oblige 'em.
The Countess of
Grignan
being then at
Paris,
went to see the Dutchess of
Orleans
at St.
Cloud,
who had Dislocated her Arm, by a Fall from her Horse at Hunting: But she was so ill receiv'd, that she did not care to go again for a long time. That Princess came to that House, after her Arm had been set by a Country Surgeon, that perform'd his Office not amiss: But being still much Pain'd, she was so angry at the Countess's saying to her, That she came to Congratulate the dispelling of her Illness, that she was very near kicking her out of her Presence. The Princess, who seldom disguises Nature, check'd her so severely, that the Countess, upon her return to
Paris,
made it known to all her Friends, and the Duke of
Orleans
came to hear of it. His Royal Highness told his Lady, That she was in the wrong; but she was so uncapable of listning to Reason in the case she was in, that there was a necessity of waiting till she was well, before she could be convinced of an Error, in having us'd that Lady at sueh a rate.
The Month of
August
came on soon after; and the Jesuits, in pursuance of their usual Custom, had a Tragedy Acted in their College of
Louis le Grand;
So 'tis now call'd; the Names of the The College of
Clermont,
or of
Jesus
being quite sunk. The Passion that the good Fathers had for insinuating themselves in the King's Favour, made them prefer Flattery to Gratitude. They have forgot, that their Founders oblig'd them to put their Name upon the Gate, and have put up another in its place; which, indeed, is infinitely greater, and more illustrious than
Clermont
's; but, at the same time, did not want Panegyrists enough besides them, to transmit it with Honour to Posterity: So that the World did not pardon such an Action; for they had no sooner taken down the Name of
Jesus
from above their great Gate, than two Latin Verses were Published which are well enough known in the World; but there being several that have not seen them, 'twill not be altogether improper to insert them here, and to preserve the Memory of them if it were capable to be lost: They are as followeth.
Sustulit hinc Jesum, Posuit
que
insignia Regis,
Impia Genes; alium non habt illa Deum.
The meaning of these Verses, is, That this Society in which Impiety reigns, took down the Name of Jesus, and put up the King's Arms; and so never recogniz'd any other God than the Kings of the Earth. I am very far from saying that this is a truth. Nay, I should rather affirm, that Piety reigns among 'em instead of Impiety: but considering that they have many Enemies, we must not be surpris'd if they have recourse to some Imposture or other, when the smallest Faults they can be guilty of, are charg'd upon 'em with Reproach. However,
Monsieur
being invited to the abovemention'd Tragedy, he and the whole Court honour'd it with their Presence; upon which Father
Jai,
who has a great Genius for that sort of Representation, complimented him on the behalf of the Rector of that College, setting forth, that if the Performance pleas'd him, all the Honour of it was due to him. The good Father made a long tedious Speech, screwing in several Panegyricks upon the late Duke of
S. Agnan,
who was not only a great lover of Acting, but so good an Actor, that upon occasion he acted all the different Parts one after another. Having spoke all that he had to say, he took leave, and went to cause the Representation to be begun. But when every one was pricking up his Ears, that they might not lose one word of the Performance, this mighty Inventer fell out with his Fidlers, insomuch, that instead of Playing, they put up their Instruments, and offer'd to go away. Father
Jai
being touch'd with the Affront they thus put upon him, preach'd to 'em, and catechiz'd 'em, in order to make 'em alter their Resolution. But after he had thus acted the part of a Preacher, a Trade that in the mean time he knew nothing of, he at last came to threaten 'em with his Arms, where his greater Excellency lay. He gave the Musicians to know, that the least they could expect, was, to have their Instruments broke over their Heads. But all this did
not soften them: They still insisted on their Resolution to be gone; so that the poor Father was forc'd to have recourse to
Monsieur
to make 'em comply. Accordingly
Monsieur
interpos'd his Authority, and the Musicians did for him what they refus'd to do for the Father: Then the Tragedy was begun, but its end was much of a piece with the Prelude. For several People quarell'd, and were so warm, that they stood in need of
Monsieur
's Authority to restrain 'em. However, the Matter was accommodated without
Monsieur
's Intervention; and the King who loves to be inform'd of all that passes in
Paris
or
Versailles,
no sooner had an account of the Adventures at this Tragedy, but he said a word of
Monsieur
that sounded well enough. He turn'd to some Lords that were laughing at this Adventure, and said,
The Court had been long a Sufferer by the less of the Duke of
S. Agnan,
but thank God
Monsieur
was about to repair their loss.
In effect, this Duke was all his life-long a Judge among the Musicians of
Paris;
he was so far from thinking that Office to be beneath his Quality, that on the other hand he thought nothing more proper for him, pleading that the Players on the Violin not only contributed to Gallantry, but were in a manner the necessary Instruments to carry it on; and thinking that himself exceeded all other Men in Gallantry, he upon that score laid claim to the Government of them, entitling himself to a preference to all others.
The Bishop of
Orleans
did not keep his Anger long; whether it was that he was sensible of his Error in being angry, or that he was not apt to continue a Resentment long. He return'd to
Paris,
whither he brought his Nephew. But his Nephew, who would not sacrifice his Hopes of a Bishoprick to the love he had for his Uncle, renew'd his Addresses to Father
de la Chaise,
and to the King. At that time several Bishopricks were Vacant, and among others, the Bishoprick of
Mentz,
which is none of the most inconsiderable Sees in the Kingdom; for besides that the Bishop of that place is at the same time Prince of the Empire, and has a right to put the Sword as well as the Mitre in his Arms, like the Ecclesiastick Electors, the Bishop of
Munster,
and several other Princes; his Incomes amount to almost 80000 Livres a Year. The eldest Brother of the late Duke of
Feuillade
had succeeded to it, when the Duke of
Verneuil,
who had enjoy'd it from his Youth, married Duke
Sulli
's Widow. The Abbot of
Coaslin
scarce made any Pretensions to it, in consideration of what had pass'd: But the King, who commonly takes pleasure in granting unexpected Favours, bestow'd that Dignity upon him, to the great astonishment of all
France,
and even of his own Family. This entirely put an end to what chagrin the Bishop of
Orleans
retain'd upon the score of the Bank. However, his Majesty, who never does a Favour by halves, observing that neither this new Prelate, nor his Family, were in a Condition to raise the 20000 Crowns that he was oblig'd to send to
Rome
for his Bulls; his Majesty, I say, taking this into Consideration, intreated the Pope by a Letter under his own Hand, to let this Prelate have his Bulls
gratis.
If the King had gratified him with this rich Benefice five or six Months later than he did, he might have sav'd himself the trouble of writing to
Rome,
for the Bishop of
Orleans
was made Cardinal before that time, and the Cardinal's Nephews never pay for their Bulls, that being a Privilege among many others that is tack'd to the Purple. The Pope did not deny his Majesty so small a Request; so that the new Bishop receiving his Bulls
gratis,
was suddenly capable to keep his Father's Coach from being seiz
d again. Since our Parents are the first Poor that we ought to relieve, and since his Father wanted his Assistance, 'twas his Duty to begin with him in the Dispensation of his Wealth.
The
Tuilleries
are the place of Rendezvous for all the Persons of Quality of Fortune in
Paris:
And at present, 'tis a Custom among the Ladies, as well as the Gentlemen, to keep Footmen from 25 to 30 Years of Age; and commonly at the Gates and Doors there stands such a numerous quantity of Footmen, as upon occasion would make a Recruit of 4 or 5000 Men. Now, these Gentlemen Lacquies having the daily Opportunity of seeing the Freaks and Intrigues of their Mistrisses, and having no great reason to entertain a very good Opinion of 'em, one may know the History of each Lady by hearing their Conferences. At that time, one of these Comical Fellows said to his Fellow Servants, that if they would give him a Bottle of Wine, he would lift up the Coats of the first Lady that came out. They readily agreed to give that reward for such a nice piece of Diversion. In the mean time, Mademoiselle
d' Armagnac,
and the Marchioness
de Villequier
came out together; and the Footman, probably not knowing who they were, offer'd to perform upon them the Insolence he had promis'd. The Ladies surpriz'd with the unaccountable Brutality, cry'd out for help, and stopp'd the Footman themselves; several Persons of Quality alighting from their Coaches, assisted them to prevent the Fellow's making his Escape; upon this he was imprison'd▪ Some Judges were for putting him to Death, to scare those of his Kidney from such lewdness; but others thought the Pillory and the Gallies a sufficient Punishment for what he had done. And thus he was only order'd to go and serve the King in the Gallies; though, to speak the truth, his Insolence deserv'd another sort of usage. However, that wretched sort of Cattel entertain'd the Publick very often with Scenes of this nature, which were still worse when they wore Swords. Every day they were guilty of some Insolence or other, and there was a great deal of reason for forbidding 'em the use of Swords. The occasion of that Prohibition was the Father of Monsieur
Tilladet,
whom they kill'd, and so stopp'd the Course of his Fortune, which perhaps would have gone further than that of his Children, because he had married the Sister of the late Monsieur
le Tellier.
'Tis true, he was not always in good terms with him. That Minister, whose Projects bore a Proportion to his Fortune, pretended to Marry his Sister better than to a little Gentleman of
Gascony.
But young Ladies often Marry without their Friends Consent, and she particularly dispos'd of her self without consulting him upon the matter. This was the occasion of their misunderstanding. But as time sinks all Differences, so his Brother-in-law and he were good Friends when that accident happen'd.
At that time the Dutchess of
Feuillade
dy'd; and her Death was not much regreated by her Husband, who, if we believe the common Report, liv'd so indifferently with her, that he never injoy'd her. But though he did not lament her loss, all that knew her did, for she was a very amiable Lady, and never gave any occasion to talk of her. Besides, she was very Young, being not above 20 Years of Age. But there are some invincible Antipathies; and 'tis plain, the Duke was not of a Temper suitable to her, since he did not respect what all the World pronounc'd lovely. It seems he likewise despis'd her Alliance; though, to speak the truth, there were a great many of as good Families as his at least, who would willingly have married Ladies that had not so much to boast of as she. For if 'tis true, that a Family is render'd Illustrious by the past or present Possession of great Places; we shall scarce find one in the Kingdom, at least retaining to the Law, that could equal this. It produc'd six or seven Secretaries of State, and at present boasts of three. This Lady was the Daughter of the Marquiss of
Chateauneuf,
who, indeed, is but a little Secretary of State, in comparison with the other three. But as there are no little Saints in Paradise, because God, who is infinitely Great, communicates somewhat of himself to those who have serv'd him faithfully, so there's no such thing, as a little Secretary of State, under the greatest King in
Christendom.
Mean while, Marshal
Boufflers
and my Lord
Portland
having remov'd a great many Difficulties by their Conferences; the King in concert with the Emperor, propos'd to keep
Strasbourg,
and to give up to his Imperial Majesty that Part of
Brisack
that lies beyond the
Rhine.
The City of
Strasbourg
did not belong to the Emperor, and by right it ought to have return'd to the Inhabitants, who were Proprietors of it, before the King had it. This Innovation did not please the Princes of the Empire, especially those situated on this side the
Rhine,
or just by the other. But great Princes do not much mind little ones, when their own Interest is in the case; and upon that foot the Consent of the King of
England
was enough to make it bear. 'Tis alledg'd that that Prince consented to it, only upon the hopes that his satisfying the King of
France
in a thing that he desir'd so passionately, would move his most Christian Majesty to give him another recompence that he on the other side, was as eager to obtain He did not like King
James
's continuing at St.
Germains,
thinking that place to lie too near
Versailles.
And upon a parallel Case,
Cromwell
who was not short of him in Politicks, us'd all his Interest in his time to oblige his Majesty to remove from his Court, not only the late King
Charles,
who after his Father's Misfortune had fled to
Paris,
but likewise the Queen his Mother. Accordingly he obtain
d his end with reference to King
Charles,
and even the Duke of
York,
his Brother, who had likewise fled thither; but as to the Queen he could never gain his Point there, notwithstanding that he wheedled Cardinal
Mazarin
with the Proposal of a Marriage between his own Son and one of the Cardinal's Nieces. For that Princess made a vigorous Opposition against this Minister's Proposal of her removal from the Court of
France,
and would never consent to it, notwithstanding the great Advantages accruing to her upon that Condition, particularly a large Pension from
England.
My Lord
Portland
gave the Marshal some hint of his Master's Design, with a good Address. The Marshal, who is not so much a Statesman as a good Servant to the King, had nevertheless Sense enough upon this Occasion to give him some hopes of succeeding without going too far. However, People being always apt to flatter themselves, my Lord was perswaded, That the King could not refuse what King
William
desir'd, after the Condescention in the Affair of
Strasbourg;
and nothing was thought of upon both sides, but the Execution of what these two Ministers should agree upon. The Princes of the Empire were still displeas'd; they could not forbear complaining that the Article relating to
Strasbourg
was contrary to the Preliminaries of the Peace; they knew very well that the first thing demanded of Monsieur
Cailleres
before the Commencement of the Conferences with him, was the Restitution of
Lorrain, Strasbourg,
and
Luxembourg.
The Emperor's Ministers answer'd to this, That the King's Conquest of
Barcelona
had chang'd the Face of Affairs, that he demanded an Equivalent, and that considering how things stood, 'twas well for them that he was contented with so little. They were glad they had this Pretence to cover the Advantage accruing to their Master by that new Proposal. In fine, they saw very well, that after all
Europe
had drain'd it self in carrying on the War, the House of
Austria
were the only Gainers by it. But the Princes of the Empire, who did not approve of these Reasons, could not comply so easily with the Proposal. They sollicited the Emperor and the Mediators, to get that Clause alter'd that seem'd to be so disadvantageous to them. His Imperial Majesty did not mind them; for that in granting their Request, he should have acted contrary to his own Interest. The Mediators gave no other excuse, but that all
Europe
stood equally in need of a Peace, and that the Cession of all on this side of the
Rhine,
and stipulating a Restitution of all on the other side, was the best Expedient, both to put a speedy end to the present War, and to prevent a future Rupture.
Neither their Answer, nor that of the Emperors, gave 'em any Satisfaction. They fansy'd the Mediators were influenc'd by
France;
at least they perswaded themselves, that if the late King of
Sweden
had been still alive, he would never have tamely suffer'd things to pass so. Being thus prepossess'd with the apprehension of the great Prejudice accruing to them from the Peace, they did not comply very early. While the respective Parties were busi'd in managing their several Pretensions, the Affairs of
Poland
were brought to that Confusion, that 'twas thought they would never be adjusted without a Civil War. Th
Cardinal Primate sent a Courier to
France,
to know what was the reason that the Prince of
Conti
did not come to take the Crown upon his Head. He represented, that his Interest suffer'd mightily by his apparent Indifferency in lying quiet at
Par
s,
or the Court, at a time when
Poland
was in a Combustion out of Respect and Love to him. That the Duke of
Saxony
was not wanting in reaping a mighty Advantage by it; that he debauch d those of his Party, upon the Plea that 'twould be folly to adhere any longer to a
Prince
that deserted 'em in that manner; that his Presence in
Poland
was desir'd beyond Expression; and that on the other hand, the Duke of
Saxony
was so hated, that upon the Prince's Arrival every body would side with him out of spite to the other.
The Abbot of
Polignac
gave the Court to know as much by every Courier he sent. At last, the King having call'd a Council upon the matter, resolv'd that the Prince of
Conti
should go immediately to that Country. And in regard he could not expect a good Reception without carrying Money with him, his Majesty gave him Bills of Exchange for 2000000, besides 10000
Louis-d'ores,
for petty Occasions. The Peace was then not made, and 'twas possible it might fail, by reason of the Interest of the Princes of the Empire, who still oppos'd it with great Warmth and Resolution. Upon this account 'twas question'd by many, how the Prince should get with safety into
Poland.
To go there
incognito
was at once dishonourable and dangerous, and to do it by open force was impossible, the Enemies Fleet being at Sea, which all the Power of
France
could not cope with. But notwithstanding the Strength of their Fleet, the Kng fitted out Squadrons every Day, which not only got off clear, but were continually annoying them by taking Prizes. And accordingly a Squadron was order'd to Transport the Prince:
John Bart
having taken upon him to Conduct the Prince, took care to make the Squadron ready by Orders from Court. 'Twas fitted out at
Dunkirk,
and the Allies having notice of it, sent 14 Ships to that Road, to hinder any thing to go in, or come out. This Obstacle did not amuse
John Bart,
though another would have been much perplex'd with it. 'Tis not known how the Enemy had such an early Intelligence of the Design, for the King kept it so secret that no body in
France
knew of it, till within two Days before the time of his Departure. However, it seems, it came by Spies, of which they had a great many every where, especially at the Sea-Ports.
But that Trade was more hazardous than
Bart
's Expedition, though at the same time it was attended by a great deal of Danger. For one of these Spie was taken up, not long before, in the same place where this Squadron was fitted out; and considering the risque he run, 'tis not imaginable how little he got by it. One
Couture,
a
Paris-
Councellor, a Man of little Practice, and a narrow Fortune, being inveigled by a Woman, that either had debauch'd him, or had been debauch'd by him, went a strowling up and down the Country with her. There he try'd several Trades that did not agree very well with the Bar; but being bred to Harangue and Declaim, he at last listed himself among a Company of strowling Actors, which after a great many turnings and windings brought him to the
French Flanders;
there he acted his Parts, and coming afterwards to
Dunkirk,
met there with a Man that having known him at
Paris,
represented to him the scandalousness of his Imployment. The Counsellor-Actor made answer,
That 'twas easy to talk of things, but when a Man had nothing, he was oblig'd to do what he could.
Thereupon his Friend gave him to know, that if he would trust him, he would find him a better Trade, in which he might earn his Bread with less Labour. The Counsellor being not over-satisfied with the Trade he was then in, took him at his word; upon which his Friend said,
They behov'd to drink together, before he could speak farther upon the Matter.
Having carried him to a Tavern, he acquainted him over a Glass, That he had several Relations in
Holland,
who were great Traders, and were every day annoy'd with the Prizes made by the
French
Ships; that they would willingly give 2000 Livers a Year to any Man that would engage to give 'em timely notice what Ships are fitting out from
Dunkirk
and St.
Maloes;
that if he would find a Friend to reside in one of these places, while himself continued in the other, he would see that Sum paid him; and that there was no great Difficulty or Labour in the performance of what was desir'd. 'Tis possible, he likewise set forth to him, that in undertaking that Office, he would do a charitable Action, by preserving so many honest Men from Ruin. However the Counsellor accepted the offer, and settled one
Martin
for his Sub-delegate at St.
Maloes,
allowing him 500 Livres a Year: Himself continued at
Dunkirk,
waiting till he could find out another Deputy for the same price, that so he might go to
Paris;
and there injoy the remaining 1000 Livres of his Pension. Accordingly he found one in a little time. But his other Deputy, Mr.
Martin,
being a Man of no great Head, and his Office requiring an Infinity of Sense and Precaution, he was soon suspected by the Inhabitants of St.
Maloes.
Tho' he colour'd his Residence in that place with a pretence of some small Commerce and Trade, that he had taken up only for a feint; yet they observing his Diligence and Curiosity in going every Day to the Haven to see what was done there, immediately gave the Court notice of him. The Court sent Orders to have a watchful Eye upon him. At last, their Suspicion being still inflam'd by his Conduct, they stopp'd his Letters at the Post-house, which were address'd to
Couture
at one Madam
Clerc
's in
Paris.
At the same time, Letters were sent to
Couture
from his other Correspondent at
Dunkirk:
Both these were open'd, and afterwards seal'd so artificially, that he could not discover it. They observ'd that both the Correspondents made mention of some Naval Preparations at these two places, and were very particular in their Accounts. After that, 'twas found that the use he made of their Intelligence, was to convey the same to
Holland.
This being sufficient Evidence, they were all three taken up: Poor
S. Martin
fearing to be broken on the Wheel, or at least hang'd, would not stay till he was examin'd; but threw himself headlong over a Rock, upon which he was imprison'd.
Couture
's Mother having married a Council-Barrister for her second Husband, had so much Interest at Court, as to get her Son's Punishment converted into perpetual Imprisonment: By which means the
Dunkirk-
Deputy got off at the same rate. And so there was an end of the Story.
To return. 'Tis very probable the Enemy discover'd Monsieur
Bart
's Design by some such means. However, the
Ships coming before
Dunkirk,
watch'd Night and Day, for fear the Man that had already trick'd 'em so often, should boast once more of playing them a new trick. The day before the Prince's Departure, the King was two Hours with him in private in the Castle of
Marli;
and there being no Witnesses of what past between 'em, we can only make Conjectures about it. What can we imagine it to be? unless we say, That his Majesty, who is so well vers'd in the Art of Government, gave him Lessons how to behave upon his Arrival in the Kindgdom he was call'd to, in case the Subjects should prove as affectionate as they were represented to be, as well as in case they should prove otherwise, which the Prince was very apprehensive of. For all their Intelligence from
Poland,
by any other Hands than the Cardinal Primate, and the Abbot of
Polignac,
gave a contrary Account of things to what these two Ministers did. All the Merchants Letters from
Dantzick,
and the other neighbouring Places, spoke of nothing but of the great number of Creatures retaining to the Duke of
Sax
ny.
The Letters that came to the Marchioness of
Bethunes,
spoke to the same purpose; but when any body ask'd her what they contain'd, she spoke as dubiously as she could, leaving them to guess more than she had a mind to tell. Those who were quicksighted knew the cause of her Silence; but they made no use of it, knowing that one is never thank'd for telling disagreeable News.
All this did not hi
der the Prince to set out. He took with him no Persons of Note or Distinction, unless you put the
Chevalier
's
de Lausun
and
Sill
ri
in that Rank; but the one being as poor as a Rat, let his Family be what it will, and the other being a Cadet as well as he, and one whose Family has nothing but a Chancellor for its greatest Ornament, I thought I might dispense with the giving 'em that Title. The latter assum'd the Name of Count
Silleri
at his Departure, either because he hop'd the Prince of
Conti,
whose Domestick he was, would raise him to a great Fortune now he was call'd to a Throne; or because having declar'd his Marriage with the Daughter of an Auditor of the Accounts, that brought him some Money, he had a mind to leave her a more honourable Title than that of a Chevalier's Lady. The Eve before the Prince's Departure, he receiv'd the Visits of all the Court, who came to take leave of him. At Night he supp'd with the Prince of
Conde
his Father-in-Law, and his whole Family; after which, a great many Tears were shed, as if they should never see him again. Perhaps, they knew that he could not set that Crown upon his Head without coming to the Point of the Sword, and consequently that he had many Dangers to go through. And in earnest that consideration is more than sufficient to alarm those who are concern'd for a Person; so that if Tears be allowable upon any occasion, they are upon this. The Princess of
Conti
appear'd to be less mov'd than the rest; or at least, if she shed any Tears, they were not so bitter as they might have been. Though there was no body that was so nearly concern'd for the Prince as her self; yet she thought it her Duty to behave her self so, as to seem worthy of the great Fortune to which she aspir'd. Not that she did not love the Prince very tenderly; but besides this her Ambition, and the Desire of being a Queen, that had so great a place in her Soul, she was not ill pleas d to see the Prince go from Court. She knew too well that he was amorous to a foolish degree; and fed her self with the hopes that the removal of his Mistriss from his Eyes, would unhinge his Affection for her.
The Prince rid Post to
Dunkirk,
his Equipage being sent before with all possible Expedition. The Coffer which contain'd the 10000 Pistols that the King gave him, happen'd to be broke underneath, and the Purse in which they were being turn'd upside down, a great many of 'em were dropp'd about two are three Leagues from
Paris.
By chance, 'twas upon a Market-day that they were lost; and the
Gonnesse
Bakers having found 'em, no sooner understood whose they were, than they deliver'd 'em up; for one of the Prince's Pages had come back to know if any body had found 'em. 'Tis alledg'd, that the Prince had purposely left 3 or 400 Pistols out of the Bag, and put them in that sorry Coffer, in order to leave with those that found 'em an eternal Memorial of his Departure from
France.
'Tis true, he is likely enough to do such a thing, for he's as generous a Prince as any about the Court: And for that reason, 'twas said of him, that if he shew'd himself to be of the House of
Conde
by his Bravery, he would not do it by his Generosity. He took nothing to himself; and 'twas such a Prince as he that the
Poles
wanted, in order, to sink the Memory of the Avarice of their late King, or rather to make 'em sensible how advantageous his earlier Arrival at the Throne had been to them; for he would never have sold a Palatinate, or any other Place; his Humour was too much a stranger to the sordid Measures of their late King, or at least, if ever he should take up with them, he must needs be very much alter'd.
Bart
had prepar d every thing for putting to Sea, and scarce allow'd the Prince a few hours Sleep, till he weigh'd Anchor with a fair Wind. He pass'd by his Enemies, without being perceiv'd; and steer'd on his Course without any Opposition; for they knew nothing of his passing till 'twas too late to pursue him.
All the Northern Princes were mightily concern'd about the Transactions in
Poland,
for all of 'em had Affairs to adjust with that Crown. However, the King of
Denmark
did not act up to the Measures of the rest, who earnestly desir'd that the Duke of
Saxony
should be preferr'd to this Prince; for he would never grant Audience to a Minister that the Duke sent to sollicit him to hinder the Prince to enter the
Baltick.
He put him off with trifling Amusements, till the Prince had past the
Sundt,
and then gave Audience to the Envoy; after which, he waited with Patience and Tranquillity, till God should decide an Affair of that consequence as he pleas'd. Some indeed alledge that he offer'd underhand some Ships to the Prince of
Conti;
and that the Prince only thank'd him for his good will, because he thought he had no occasion for 'em, and that the Success of his Expedition depended rather upon the Affection and good Will of the
Poles,
than upon any Succours he could receive from any other hand but the King, his Master. After all, the Prince arriv'd before
Dantzick,
being incourag'd to hope that the Inhabitants of that City would open their Gates to him. This City was to him, as 'twere, the Key of
Poland;
especially if he should be oblig'd to dispute his Title to that Crown upon the point of the Sword. 'Twas by that place only that he could expect Succours from
France,
since these could not come otherwise than by Sea. But instead of answering his Expectation, the Citizens sent Deputies to intreat him not to come ashoar in their Territories; by reason that in the present State of Affairs, they could not declare either for him, or the Duke of
Saxony,
without exposing themselves to great hazards. The Prince of
Conti
did not construe their Words literally, but as he ought to have done. He presently perceiv'd that their Words insinuated all the Enmity to him that could be; and that they had only disguis'd their real Sentiments for fear of displeasing the King, whose Power they were too well acquainted with, to draw it upon their own Heads. At the same time, some
French
Merchants that were settled there, came on Board his Ship, to offer him their Service in what their Power could reach, and assur'd him that his Sentiments of the Matter were very just. Nay, they gave him to know that the City had enter'd into a strict Alliance with the Duke of
Saxony,
by the Mediation of the Elector of
Brandenburg,
who had set it on foot as soon as he receiv'd Advice of his Election; That if they might freely disclose their Thoughts to him, they would not advise him to go ashoar any where, without a strong
French
Army to guard his Person: That they knew not what Reports might have been spread abroad to perswade his Highness to come so far, but they were afraid he would only have the trouble of returning without effecting any thing: That the
Poles
who were formerly Friends to the
French,
began to take up the same Passion against them that other Nations had: That the Glory of the King had struck them with fear as well as the others: That they were made to believe that the King aspir'd to an Universal Monarchy; and that the fear of becoming his Subjects, scar'd them from preferring a Prince of his Blood to their Throne.
Though these Merchants had not given this Account to the Prince, he had quickly found it out himself. Instead of that croud of new Subjects that the Cardinal Primate had made him to expect before his Departure from
France,
there came scarce any one to visit him on Board; most of those that came, were only mov
d so to do by their Curiosity; so that excepting a very small number that offer'd to pay him the usual Honours of Soveraignty, and treated him as King, there was no body that did any thing like it: But he would never suffer either these, or his own Retinue to do it, for fear his Reign should be short-liv'd. He gave them to know, that he was not so over-fond of a Crown, as to purchase it at the Expence of his Honour; that he only came thither in compliance with the Cardinal Primate's Request to Succour their Nation; which, as he alledg'd, the Duke of
Saxony
mean'd to oppress by a boundless Ambition; that the Cardinal had promis'd to draw together an Army out of hand to inable him to satisfy his desire; that when he should have done what he pretended to in serving them, he would not then declin
he Title of their Defender; but as for that of King he would never accept of it, till things were upon another foot than what they were at that time; and indeed they could not be upon a worse foot than they were, with Reference to him. The Duke of
Saxony,
after his being proclaim'd King by his own Party, had not only possess'd himself of the City and Castle of
Cracow,
but likewise of that of
Warsaw,
where the Kings of
Poland
us'd to Reside. He had got himself Crown'd in one of these two places, partly by Force, and partly by good Will; while the Cardinal Primate protested equally against his Coronation and his Election.
The Prince of
Conti
finding that the Duke was thus Master of the Heart of the Country, and that
Dantzick
was but too partial to him, us'd all his Efforts to gain the Governor of
Mariembourg,
a place that was not far distant from the place where he was. Could he have master'd that, and been succour'd by his Party, he would have made it a place of Arms. The Governor of that place made as if he listen'd to his Proposal, in order to make him speak
French;
but the Prince being not in a Humour to do it without seeing further into Affairs, gave him only conditional Promises; upon which the Governor, who had not yet made up Matters with the Duke of
Saxony,
endeavour'd to do it, tho' without acquainting him that he did it, because he could have no Security from his Rival. The Generals of the Army of the Crown, and that of
Lithuania,
came likewise to feel the Prince of
Conti
's Pulse, and to try if they could finger his Bills of Exchange. They had hitherto pretended to entertain a Correspondence with the Abbot of
Polignac,
upon the magnificent Promises he had made 'em. That Ambassador thought he might promise any thing, so as to secure this Crown, without observing that he had to do with People as cunning as himself, and even engag'd under-hand to the Duke of
Saxony,
from whom they expected to draw more considerable Sums than from him. The Prince of
Conti
had no mind to bid so high as the Ambassador, because lying is not the Character of a Prince, as it is of those Ministers, who commonly think the direct contrary of what they speak. Accordingly he reply'd, that he was oblig'd to them for the tender of their Service, but if they pretended to be paid before-hand, he willingly dispens'd with it; that he was ready to bargain with them about what he should give 'em, provided they made his Election good; but if they mean'd only to take his Money, and afterwards to excuse themselves upon the Plea of the impossibility of making good their promises, he would chuse rather to keep his Money, than expose himself to future Repentance for giving it away to no purpose. These Generals, or rather their Deputies, hearing him speak in this fashion, perceiv'd quickly that he was too long-headed for them; and having drop'd all designs of pulling a Feather from him, did under-hand advise the Duke of
Saxony
to endeavour by all possible means to seize upon his Person. To bring this about, instead of declaring openly for the Duke, they made their Address to the Cardinal Primate, as if they had been troubled to quit an Interest that they were joyn'd to by Inclination. The Cardinal suffer'd himself to be amus'd for some time by glittering Hopes, and even fed the Prince with them. He endeavour'd to persuade him that he would speedily send him an Army capable to reduce the Duke of
Saxony;
which should oblige the Prince to wait the Execution of his Promises, notwithstanding the Inconveniencies he strugled with upon the Sea.
This Affair was so long in dependance, that the Peace after dwindling for some Months, was concluded before it came to be determin'd. The Princes of the Empire were forc'd to submit to the pleasure of stronger Powers. The
French
recognis'd the Prince of
Orange
as King of
England;
and that Prince coming then to the
Hague,
the Plenipotentiaries of
France
began to pay him the Honour and Respect that was due to the Dignity they had acknowledg'd to be his. However, it happen'd that Monsieur
Harlai
being accustom'd to call him by another Name than that of King, us'd his wonted Expression in a Conference where he was present; but being at the same time sensible of his fault, he made the best Reparation he could. Madam
Harlai,
the Chancellor's Daughter, having gone to meet her Husband in
Holland;
and having the Curiosity to see that Prince whom all the
French
have a particular Esteem for, notwithstanding the harm he has done 'em: This Lady,
I say,
imploy'd some body to desire Audience of him in some place or other. The New King would not give it her at his own Apartments, but sent her word to be at the Princess of
Vaudemont
's at a certain hour. Madam
Harlai
had all the reason in the World to be satisfied with his Civility and Courtesy. As for Monsieur
Harlai,
he to act the part of a good Courtier, acquainted my Lord
Albemarle,
his
British
Majesty's new Favourite, who began then to have as great an Ascendant in the King's Affection, as ever my Lord
Portland
had: He acquainted him,
I say,
That he desir'd his Master's Picture. My Lord
Albemarle
promis'd to give it him; but withal, intreated him to have patience for some time, because his Master was upon his Return to
England,
and he was afraid he could not spare the time to let it be drawn. Whether that Lord forgot his Promise, or whether the King of
Britain
was so taken up with Affairs of Consequence, that my Lord could not have the opportunity of making good his Promise; whatever was in it, four or five Months pass'd, and Monsieur
Harlai
had resolv'd not to think of it farther, when he receiv'd Information at
Paris
that my Lord's Trumpeter staid in his Hall to speak with him. At first he could not conjecture what should bring him so far from home, for he was far from thinking that his Master should have call'd to mind his Request, after letting so much time slip without sending to him. But after all, he found that his Errand was to bring him the Picture. My Lord had caus'd a magnificent Frame to be made for it at
Paris,
because that sort of Work is better done there than in
England.
The Trumpeter took care to let him know so much, to shew what Pains his Master took to content him. Monsieur
Harlai
thought this an odd way of conveying a Picture; but Foreigners have their peculiar Customs as we have ours; and so he was e
en oblig'd to take the Complement together with the Charges. He gave the Trumpeter a handsome Present; and that being all that this Messenger wanted, he return'd forthwith to his own Country.
Of all the King's Plenipotentiaries at
Ryswick,
Monsieur
Harlai,
as 'tis alledg'd, bore the least Figure as to Sense, but he bore the greatest on another score, I mean his Quality, and the first places of the Robe, which for a long time have been fill'd by his Ancestors. Upon this account he had had the whole, or at least the greatest part of the Honour of the Treaty, if the People had found any thing in it to their advantage: But 'twas so far from that, that all Persons regreted secretly, and even publickly all the Restitutions that the King oblig'd himself to in that Treaty, as much as if they had been to part with their own Estates. It must be own'd that this fancy was in some measure foolish; for, besides that his Majesty knew a great deal better than they what was convenient for him, and his Kingdom; according to all the measures of good Sense, they ought to have desir'd nothing more than an end of the War, in order to prevent their being expos'd to the Evils they must of necessity undergo, as long as it should continue. But, as People do not always act conformably to Reason, so they made with Reluctancy the very Fire-works, that they were commanded to make, pursuant to the usual Custom upon all such Occasions. Insomuch that the Commissaries of the Wards were oblig'd to back their Injunctions with the Penalty of a large Fine; and without that they would never have agreed to it. However, even that did not scare 'em from censuring all that had been concluded upon. To this purpose they handed about a pretty pleasant Story, which shew
d how little they were satisfied with Monsieur
Harlai
That Magistrate had a Son that was as Foppish as his Father was Grave; for in earnest, the Father resembled the two Courtiers of whom Monsieur
de la Feuillade
said, That when his Majesty had a mind to drink his Liquor cool, his Cup-bearers needed only to cool the Bottles by placing 'em between these two. This Son,
I say,
was so far from resembling his Father, that he had always acted up to the Character I here give him. He was at
Ryswick
when the Affairs of that Negotiation were brought to a Conclusion; but neither the Solemnity of the place, nor his Father's Character could make him wiser than usually. However, Monsieur
Harlai
having sent him to the King with the News of the signing of the Treaty, he stay
d so long by the way, that the News were known at Court thirty Hours before his Arrival. This slowness did not become a young Man, especially one of so much Fire, who us'd always to walk like Lightning. Upon which account the World was amus'd with it, but at last they began to say, That they ought not to think it strange, since for certain the Father was confounded with the Son; that it was the Son that had made the Treaty, as appear'd from his Impatience in signing it, notwithstanding the prejudice it did to the King and the State; and that 'twas the Father who brought the News to Court, which was equally manifest from the tediousness he shew'd upon the Road, for fear of wounding his Gravity. The principal foundation of this Raillery was, that the
Spaniards
were so mortify'd by the taking of
Barcelona,
that they sought for a Peace at any rate; and that whatever Proposal the
French
Plenipotentiaries should have made after an Action of that importance, the
Spaniards
would have agreed to it, and consented that the King should retain
Luxemburg
as an equivalent for that place, if the Plenipotentiaries had been so wise, as to take the advantage of the Consternation they were in.
Though the People by this Conduct seem'd to controul the King's Actions, yet his Majesty was not ill pleas'd to find 'em of that mind. For as it was a Mark of their Folly, so it shew'd their concern for his Majesty's Interest. Whatever was in it, they scarce had the sense to observe that neither Monsieur
Harlai,
nor any of his Collegues, had done any thing without the King's Orders. But we must not pretend that that sort of Cattle are ever govern'd by Reason; Capricio and Humour is the ordinary Standard and Rule of their Thoughts. In effect, those who but two Months before cry'd out for a Peace with all the Passion imaginable, had no sooner got it, but they wish'd the War had continued. Their Reason was this: Instead of lessening the Prices of things which had been very dear for some time, by reason of the preceeding bad Seasons, they saw the Markets still rising; besides, that the Wrath of God was seen in the Barrenness of the Earth, we may attribute this Affliction to another Cause, occasion'd by the War. The King had been oblig'd to Re-coin the Money twice, that it might serve instead of an Edict. Indeed he had got considerably by this Project, for he rais'd the
Louis-d'ors
to 14
Livres,
and the
Silver Crowns
to 3
Livres
12
Sous,
though the one was not commonly worth above 11
Livres,
and the other three▪ Now the King for some Politick Considerations keeping up the Denomination of the Money, it came to pass, that what they us'd to have at easy Rates from Foreign Countries prov'd very dear, by reason of the loss of the Exchange, which was a full sixth part.
The Prince of
Conti
did not trouble his Head with these matters. He thought upon nothing, but either seeing the effect of the Cardinal Primate's Promises, or returning to see his Mistress. His Eminence had retir'd to the Castle of
Cowits,
where his Partisans assembled several times to no purpose. Many of 'em complained that Abbot
Polignac
had fed 'em with the hopes of things that were not like to be put in Execution. He had gone so far, as to promise that they should not want either the Money, or the Troops of
France;
for that being the only Affair that he minded, he wish'd that the King, in like manner, might have nothing else to mind. The Duke of
Saxony
finding that they began to complain of that Minister, caus
d a Body of
German
Troops to enter the Country. This put those, who were most expos'd, into a Consternation; and some of 'em making some advances towards the making of their Peace with the Duke, the Prince no sooner receiv'd the News, but he resolv'd to return to
France;
but at the same time, to make the City of
Dantzick
repent of their giving his Rival the Preference, he order'd
Bart
to seize some of their Ships that lay just by him. They had anchor'd in the Road, with a design to sail up to the Port with their Cargoes; but
Bart
obliging them to follow him, carry'd 'em to
Copenhagen,
where the Prince was forc'd to put in by stress of Weather. At the same time, the King stopp'd all the
Dantzick
Ships in his Harbors, which makes it probable, that the Prince of
Conti
's Orders to
Bart,
did not come so much from himself as from the King. The Prince who had been very uneasy in his Voyage, was more so when he came to
Copenhagen,
notwithstanding that the King of
Denmark
shew'd a particular Esteem for his Person. He set a part a great number of Houses for the Prince and his Retinue, and the Wind continuing contrary for some Days, that little time seem'd so long to that Prince, that I doubt if the six Years, that according to the
English
Historians, one of their Kings spent in
Ireland,
before he could find a favourable minute to return to
London:
I doubt,
I say,
Whether these six Years were longer to that King, than those few Days were to the Prince? The occasion of his uneasiness was, that he was still in Love, and that all the Comfort he had, was to wait for the Postdays, that he might hear from the Party he lov'd.
The
Dantzickers
made what Reprisals they could; they arrested the
French
Merchants at
Dantzick,
and seiz'd their Effects. But after all, they knew very well that 'twas not proper for them to Quarrel with a King, that the greatest part of the Forces of
Europe
had in vain attempted to bring down; and upon that view they had recourse to the King of
Denmark
's Mediation to procure the releasing of their Ships. The King made 'em stay some time before he granted their Request; but at last, believing that the Mortification he had given 'em, was sufficient to make 'em remember it, he accommodated the matter to their Satisfaction. Abbot
Polignac
was astonish'd at the Prince's Return, and the Conduct of a great many, who after siding with his Party, began to Desert him. At the same time notice was given to him from the Duke of
Saxony,
that he ought to retire with Expedition out of the Country, or if he did not, that he could not answer for the Security of his Person. The Abbot did not think it his Duty to wait for a second Message, but set out
incognito
without any Retinue, and order'd his Equipage to make towards the Sea, in order to Imbarque there as well as himself; but they were robb'd before they could reach the Ships that stay'd for 'em. The Abbot did not know, whether the Court which had given him no Orders for his Retreat, would be pleas'd with it; and therefore he stay'd some time at
Hamburg
to know the Orders of the Court. He wrote to the Marquiss of
Torcy,
Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, but receiv'd no Answer; and having complain'd of this to his Friends in that Country, their Answer was not very satisfactory. They told him, That the Court was very Angry with him, and that the Cardinal Prima
e did not cease to do him disservices. In earnest, his Eminence wrote a great many things to
France
to his prejudice; he even insinuated that he had applied to his own use part of the Money sent him on the Prince of
Conti
's behalf. 'Tis believ'd that this Accusation was false, and that 'twas only the Cardinal's chagrin upon seeing himself abandon'd that made him speak in that fashion. 'Tis true, the Abbot was Poor, and that some time before he was reduc'd to such Straits that his Family would have wanted the Necessaries of Life, if he had not found Friends to assist him. The Cardinal who knew his Straits, and likewise knew that some time after he had paid his Debts', probably grounded his Charge upon that Circumstance. But let it be as it will; though a Man be never so Innocent; 'tis a great Misfortune to lie under an Accusation. The Court sent him Orders to retire to an Abby he had in
Normandy;
whether it was that they credited the Accusation, or, which is more likely, that they mean'd to make him answerable for the event.
The Duke of
Saxony
having thus unhing'd his Competitor, thought he wanted nothing to compleat his good Fortune, but the Pope's Favour. As soon as he was proclaim'd King, he had sent an Envoy to sollicite his Holiness to favour his Interest. But as that Court moves but slowly, especially when there's any thing of Religion in the case; so his Holiness would not grant Audience to the Envoy, till he was fully assur'd that that Duke had abjur'd
Lutheranism.
A Certificate of the Abjuration was brought to him, but he suspected it mightily. It came only from the Hands of a Bishop of his Family, who might be suspected to be gain'd by that Prince, because their common Grandeur was concern'd upon that occasion. The Duke having never entertain'd any Correspondence with that Court, was not throughly vers'd in their Politicks, and was so far from seeing through the true Spring of his Holiness's Motions, that he imagin'd the Pope to be in the Prince of
Conti
's Interest. Accordingly, as soon as the Prince return'd to
France,
he sent a second Envoy to the Pope to represent to his Holiness, that he needed not to continue any longer in the Interest of a Prince, who by his Retreat had given sufficient evidence, that he had drop'd his Pretensions to the Crown. In the mean time, the Pope was far from being biass'd that way. Had he been oblig'd to side with one or t'other; he had not scrupl'd to fall in with the Duke. He was an
Italian, i. e.
no great Friend to
French-men;
besides, he was by Birth, a Subject of the King of
Spain,
which Quality did not allow him to depart from the Sentiments of the House of
Austria.
However, being Head of the Catholick Church, and upon that score oblig'd to observe Measures on all hands, he sent Orders to his Nuncio at
Cologn
to go for that Country. He order'd him, under the pretence of promoting the Interest of Religion, to reconcile the Cardinal Primate and the Duke. The Cardinal shew'd all along a violent Resolution to raise a Civil War, rather than be without Satisfaction for the Affront offer'd him by the Bishop of
Cujavia,
by Crowning the Duke. He alledg'd, and justly indeed, That the right of Coronation was lodg'd in the Church of
Gnesne,
of which he was Archbishop. The Pope had another Nuncio already upon the spot, who of his own head did not fail to anticipate the Orders given to this. For he knew very well that whatever he did for the Interest of the House of
Austria,
would be approv'd by his Holiness; and accordingly had privately embarqu'd in the Duke's Party.
Some time being spent in all these Transactions, the Year came to an end, which was the time alloted by his Majesty for the Conclusion of the Marriage of the Duke of
Burgundy
to the Princess of
Savoy.
Every day he lik'd the Proposal better and better; and the young Princess had such a winning way, that he lov'd her as tenderly, as if she had been his own Daughter. The Duke was but weak for one of his Age, insomuch, that though the Ceremony was to be perform'd out of hand, yet he was not to enjoy her till he pass'd 18 Years, and she 14. In former times, when the Marquiss of
Louvois
marry'd his eldest Daughter to the Duke of
Rocheguyon,
the Son of the Duke of
Rochefoucaut,
the Consummation of the Marriage was not put so long off; but the Relations on both sides made a mutual Compact, that the new-married Couple should not see one another but once a Week, namely on
Thursdays,
and that they should live in Celibacy without any mutual Commerce for the rest of the Week. This made 'em always long for the arrival of the appointed Day of meeting, and inspir'd 'em with a mutual Eagerness: And if all marry'd Persons were confin'd to the s
me measures, perhaps they would not be so soon weary of one another, as we commonly find 'em. However, the King having regulated the matter as above, Preparations were made for celebrating the Marriage, which were expensive to an unparallel'd degree. Nay, his Majesty intimated that he would take it well if every body would act up to his Abi
ity in honouring the Festival. 'Twas not the literal performance of this desire, that would have satisfied his Majesty; if that had only been requir'd, the Nuptial Ceremonies would have been a very mean thing, for the charge of the War, and of the Taxes, that still continued during its whole course, had so impoverish'd the Subjects, that they could scarce be poorer than they were. So that all the Courtiers, and even the Military Officers that happen'd to be then at Court, put another Construction upon the matter. They knew where the Kings meaning lay; and all of 'em being ready to do any thing to please his Majesty, straiten'd themselves to obtain that end. The charge they were at was altogether extraordinary; nay, some of 'em bought Cloaths that were worth more Money than the intrinsick Value of their Estates. I do not speak by way of Amplificacation, but deliver a naked Truth; witness a great many Land and Sea-Officers, who laid out 5 or 600 Crowns for one Suit of Cloaths, though at the same time a great part of 'em were not worth 10 Crowrs a Year of Patrimonial Estate. Herein lies the Folly of the
French;
and though I am a
Frenchman
my self, and perhaps as great a Fool as others, yet I cannot abstain from censuring our common Folly.
After the Conclusion of the Peace, there was so great a Confluence of Foreigners at
Paris,
that in the
Suburbs
of S
Germains
only, there was about 15 or
6000. This Multitude made the Lodgings so excessive dear in that place, that the Houses which were lett at 1200
Livres
during the War, were rais'd now to
00 Crowns. In a short time, the numbe
of these Foreigners increas'd to above one half; insomuch, that in a little time after, or about the beginning of the succeeding Year, they were computed to 36000 in that very
Suburbs.
And as they had been inform'd, that, during the War,
France
had not only been exhausted of Men, but also of Treasure, this being a Report spread abroad on purpose to amuse them, and make them believe that
France
would be very glad to Truckle to the Will of her Enemies; they were extreamly surpris'd to find (at their Arrival) every thing in a different Disposition to what they were made believe, while at home. They saw that great Town did not only abound in People, as much as ever, but that Luxury and Pleasu
e were arriv'd to such a degree in it, that the meanest Citizen was more splendid than the Persons o
Quality in their Country. In effect, the greater the Mise
ies were in private Families, the more they endeavour
d to blind the World with sumptuous Appearances. However, these Measures serv'd only to augment 'em: besides, it must be own'd, that the most part of the Women us'd this Luxury at the expence o
their Honour. Few or none of them but had her Gallant; and none of these Gallants was esteem
d, but in proportion to what he lavish
d upon hi
Mist
ess. As the War had rais
d a vast number of People, who apply
d themselves to business, by which they gam'd a great deal of Money; so having c
me very easily by it, they as freely lavish'd it. A great many, who had formerly been glad to have got Shoes to their bare Feet, did now bestow Coaches on their Misses. Insomuch, that in 7 or 8 Years time, the number of Coaches was increas'd to above 2000. Gold and Azure were to be seen in every Family, which extreamly surpris'd these Strangers, who, before their Arrival, had heard that all
Paris
could not afford either Silver-Spoon or Fork, and that the King had pillag'd them of all, to support the Expences of the War. It's certain, that the War had impoverish'd a great many, but such were to be seen rather in the Country, than in
Paris.
On the contrary,
Paris
had never been either so Rich, or so Magnificent, there being 160000000 Millions expended in it, only by the Parties that were form'd there since the War, without reckoning what others might have gain'd by a thousand different ways. For while some got infinitely by the Partisans, in lending them Money upon extravagant Interest; others applied themselves to the way of Victualling, or to some other thing, so that it might be justly alledg'd, as War had ruin'd some, it had rais'd others so prodigiously, that they were no more to be known for the same Persons: So different were they now, from what they had been formerly. There was such an infinite number of Sharpers, and such like Scoundrels, who had rais'd themselves from the very
Scum
of the People, to vast Riches, by sucking the Blood of the poor People. This was reckon'd so good a Trade, that even some Marquisses apply'd themselves to it. Thus you might have seen one embrace this Trade, without regarding what was said, either of his own Relations, or his Wifes, who was either Grand-daughter, or Sister, to a
High President.
As for himself, there was one of his Name, a
Lieutenant General
in the King's Army; but as there is a difference betwixt Relations, the
Lieutenant General
behav'd like a Man of Quality and Merit, while he acted like a wretched Miscreant, or at least like one, who thought it no Crime to dishonour his
Name
and
Family.
If the Strangers abovemention'd were amaz'd to find every thing at
Paris
so different from the Relation they had of 'em at home, they were much more astonish'd to see the Solemnity of the Marriage of the Duke of
Burgundy
and the Princess at
Versailles.
The Ceremony was perform'd with all the Splendor imaginable; they gave a great many
Balls,
where all the Persons of Quality, retaining to the Court, of both Sexes, were present. All the Ladies were cloath'd in Black Velvet, set out with precious Stones, that cast the brightest Lustre imaginable: The Men were also adorn'd with Diamonds. As on such Occasions the Pick-pockets of
Paris
are very intentive upon their Business; so they came in whole Swarms to keep Holy-day at
Versailles,
adorn'd as others were, and, abating for their Countenances, that are hardly well known in that place, one would have thought they were all Persons of the first Rank. The extraordinary Crowd, as one may easily imagine, afforded them sufficient opportunity to make up, with considerable advantage, the Expence of their Ornaments. A great many, after their return home, found at their leasure that the Diamonds they had carried to the Solemnity were gone. The Rogues had taken from some
one,
from others
two,
and so more or less; and they might repute themselves happy, who came off free. Even the Duchess of
Burgundy
did not escape the common Fate of those, who had suffer'd by these Pick-pockets. They ventur'd to cut away a part of her Gown, where she had a large Buckle of Diamonds. But, what is surprizing, the
Chevalier
of
Sully
had the same fate, and what he lost, was by the hand of a Person of the first Quality: He catch'd him in the fact, and took the liberty to tell it to one of his Friends. His
Majesty
over-heard it, and desir'd to be further inform'd of the matter, but was extreamly astonish'd, when they whisper'd to him the Name of this young Pick-pocket; he forbid to Challenge him upon it, being willing to save his Honour, for the Respect he had for his Relations; however his Charity serv'd to no purpose, for not only all the Court knew the Secret, but also all
Paris.
Upon the Marriage-day, the new married Couple were put to Bed; but the Curtains being undrawn, there were a great many Witnesses of their Actions, only in order to see if they lay close to one another. The King, to give them a sufficient opportunity, caus'd draw the Curtains, while the Duke of
Beauvilliers,
and the other Officers of the young Prince, stood just by to over-hear what might pass; but nothing having pass'd, they soon undrew the Curtains. That young Princess kept Assemblies the same day, and the following days. Her Court was very throng, and the Ladies strove who should shew her most Respect. There happen'd a difference betwixt the Princess of
Har
ourt,
and the young Duchess of
Sully,
Daughter to the Duke of
Coaislin:
She was Niece to the Duchess's
Lude,
Lady of Honour to the Princess. This Relation came by her Husband, who was the Duchess, or Brother's Son; she wanted her Assistance in regard of her Youth, not being in Condition to enter the Lists with a Princess, whose only business had been (since she was in the World) to ingratiate her self with all in Power, from the highest to the lowest Minister. But instead of the Assistance she expected from her, the Aunt advis'd her to yield to her Adversary. All the Duchesses were highly incensed against the Duchess of
Lude;
finding she had tarnish'd their Honour by so scandalous an Advice. In effect, though such sort of Disputes had often fallen out, not only betwixt the Princesses and the Duchesses, but even betwixt their Husbands; yet, perhaps such another as this had never fallen out before. The Dukes and Duchesses had always maintain'd their Rank, as if St.
Louis
had begot them. The late Duke of
Montauzier,
and the late Duchess of
N
lles,
stretch'd the Affair yet further; the one against Monsieur
Le
Grand,
a Prince of the House of
Lorrain,
and the other against the Duchess of
Bouillon.
Though the Duchess of
Noailles,
was only the Daughter of a
Farmer
of the Revenues; yet she was sensible that in
France, Nobility
came not by the
Wives,
but by the
Husbands;
she shelter'd her self from any Indignity by the Character of her Husband, whom she took to be beyond Reproach. However it ordinarily falls out in a Difference betwixt two Parties, that they upbraid one another, even to the five hundreth Generation. The Duchess of
Bouillon
produc'd Records, by which she made it appear, that
Anthony
of
Noailles
had been formerly Master of the Houshold to one of her Husband's Ancestors. In fine, this Affair enrag'd the Parties to that degree, that they call'd one another all the
Ill Names
they could think on. His
Majesty
was at last oblig'd to impose Silence by his Authority; he forbad them expresly to proceed farther, without deciding any thing in the matter, that caus'd their heats. I do not know, if the Duchess of
Lude
was afraid of these
Ill Names
in doing what she had done, or if she thought, because the King had given the Preference to the Dukes before the Princes of the House of
Lorrain,
the last time he made a Promotion of Knights of the Order, that therefore it ought to be the same in regard of the Women, but it pass'd after the manner I have told you.
Though the Peace had been made a pretty while, yet none hitherto reap'd the Fruits of it. The Commerce was as dead as in the time of War; whether it was attributed to the high value of the
French
Coin, that continued still at the same Rate, or that the King believ'd he could subsist without other Nations, while others must have recourse to him, there was yet no advance made to make it flourish. In the mean time, there came some Ships from
England
and
Holland,
to take in Wine and Paper at
Bourdeaux
and
Rouen.
They bought along other Merchandize to be sold there. But the
Tariff
not being yet regulated between all the Parties, and the Treaty of
Ryswick
having only mention'd, that it should be put upon the same foot as it was in the Years 1665 and 1666, which was not yet done; this together with the loss of twenty in the hundred by the Money, oblig'd these Ships to return without either selling or buying any thing in these Ports. About the same time, the
States-General
sent
Deputies
to the King, to demand the Execution of that Article. They apply'd themselves to the Marquiss of
Torcy,
Secretary for Foreign Affairs, but Monsieur
Ponchartrain
having the Charge of that Commerce, they were remitted to him for the Execution of their Demands. These
Deputies
were exceedingly well vers'd in Affairs of that nature, and the States having an intire Confidence in them, had given them a
Full Power
to Act as Commissaries in the Regulation of the
Tariff.
Monsieur
Pontchartrain
heard them upon the Matter, but being Judicious and Politick, he put them off with fair Words, until he had acquainted the King with the Affair. The Commerce of
Holland
was of far less advantage to
France,
than
that
of
England,
because they draw a great deal more Money from the one than from the other. In effect, the
Hollanders
Import more Merchandize into
France
than they Export; whereas
England
on the contrary Exports more than they Import. So that the first carries out the Coin, and the other brings it
in.
This made them resolve to keep up the
Tariff
as high as possible, in regard of the
Holland
-Trade, its Imposts or Customs, while they design'd to lower it in regard of the
English;
while they expected the
Hollanders
should come to
Paris
to terminate that Affair, they resolv'd to send to
London
to regulate what regarded that Nation.
Ponchartrain
pitch'd upon Monsieur
Phelipe
ux D'Herbeaut,
his Relation, for that purpose; he was first Commissary of the Marine, under Monsieur
de Maurepas,
who had left him the whole Managment of it. He had the Character of
Commissary-General
for regulating the Commerce betwixt the two Nations; but though his Commission was presently dispatch'd, yet he stay'd a long time after. In the mean time, the Court nam'd other Commissaries to treat with the
Hollanders,
but as they had no design to terminate the Affair to their Satisfaction, so it continues to this day at the same pass.
While these matters were a transacting, the King nam'd
Ambassadors
to go to all the
Foreign Courts;
and instead of sending Gentlemen of the
Law,
as had been always practic'd in
France,
he employ'd Persons of Quality, or Officers of the Army. He thought, if they could joyn the Knowledge of the Cabinet to the Experience they had acquir'd in warlike Affairs, they would be more accomplish'd for his Service upon all occasions. He chose the Marquiss of
Villars,
Lieutenant-General of the Army, for the Court of
Vienna;
and the Marquiss of
Harcourt,
also a Lieutenant-General, for his
Ambassador
to
Spain,
who during the War, had acquir'd a Reputation equal to any; and could he perform the same thing in his Embassy, which he had done at the Head of a Flying Army, no more could be expected of him; but that being a hard Task, his Friends could hardly hope for it. He was going to a Court, where the very name of
French
is suspected, much more at a time, when he seem'd very earnest to create all the Obstacles imaginable to the Emperor's Designs of bringing the Succession of his Catholick Majesty to fall upon the King of the
Romans,
his eldest Son, or that failing, upon the
Arch-Duke,
his second Son.
Philip
IV. his present Majesty's Father, had left it by
Testament,
to the last, tho' he was not Born at that time; but the
Spaniards
shewing no Inclination to execute it, his
Imperi
l Majesty
labour'd to engage them to favour the King of the
Romans.
He thought, that being his eldest Son, he not only deserv'd better that Dignity, which was much more solid than that of Emperor, though not altogether so splendid; but he expected also to secure the Fortune of his Son the better, if he could unite these two Qualities in one Person. The Queen of
Spain
being his Sister-in-law, he did not doubt of her favouring his Design; and the Count of
Harrach,
his
Ambassador
at that Court, had a Commission to propose it to her. The
Queen
join'd Issue with the Ambassador in all his Sentiments; and his Imperial Majesty being hitherto so prosperous in his Designs, as to get the
Queen
's Creatures into his Catholick
Majesty
's Council, and she being very industrious to gain the other Members, they met often to consider how to behave in the Scene they were to Act. The Count of
Harrach
insinuated to the Queen and them, that the best Method they could fall upon in this Juncture, was, to put the Government of the Frontiers into
German-
hands, or into the Hands of Persons well-affected to the Emperor. The Prince of
Darmstadt,
who signaliz'd himself in the Defence of
Barcelona,
was propos'd to be Vice-Roy of
Catalonia; Don Francisco de Velasco,
having rendred himself unworthy of that Command, by suffering himself to be surpriz'd in his Camp. The Government of
Milan
seem'd too good to escape one of his
Imperial Majesty
's Creatures, as did also the Vice-Royalty of
Navarre;
for the Count of
Harrach
suppos'd very reasonably that it was by attacking of one of these three places, if not all the three at once, that the King of
France
meant to make good his Pretensions to the
Spanish
Succession, immediately after the Death of that Monarch. The
Queen,
and those of the King's Council, who were in her Interest, found it difficult to manage that point; for though the
Spaniards
were too wise to own their Sentiments openly, yet they had not the least Inclination to own either the Emperor's eldest or youngest Son, for their Soveraign. They were also of the same Opinion in regard of the
Dauphin
and his Sons; though some of the
French
Emissaries endeavour'd to insinuate to them secretly, that if they would chuse either the Duke of
Anjou,
or the Duke of
Berry,
they could form their tender Years according to their own Model, insomuch that it would be impossible for them to perceive they had ever been born
French-men.
And by these means they labour'd to extirpate the Antipathy, that was natural to the two Nations; but that being a hard Point to manage, they always rejected it with scorn. They could never conceive why they would deprive the Prince of
Bavaria
of that Succession, for it was naturally his
Right,
after the Renunciation his Most Christian
Majesty
had made of it, when he married the
Infanta
of
Spain.
Others wish'd, since the King had no Heirs begot of his own Body, the Crown might fall to some
Grandee
of
Spain.
They believ'd they should be more happy under such a Person, than under any
Foreign Prince.
For such a one being train'd up from his Cradle in their
Customs
and
Manners,
they could bear more easily with him than with any other. For, generally, all Men inherit the
Genius
of the Country, where they are Born, and it is hard for them ever to change their natural Inclination.
Such was the Disposition of the Affairs of that Nation, when the Queen of
Spain
made use of all her Interest to have the Prince of
Darmstadt
made Vice-Roy of
Catalonia,
Prince
Vaudemont
Governor of
Milan,
and Prince
Eugene
of
Savoy
Vice-Roy of
Navarre.
For she not only look'd upon them as well-affected to the Emperor, but also very capable to defend against the
French,
the Places committed to their care. They had distinguish'd themselves upon a thousand occasions; and Prince
Eugene
was actually employ'd against the
Turks,
with whom the Emperor was in continual War. That Barbarous Nation ow'd its Preservation only to the Diversion, was made upon the
Rhine,
when his
Imperial Majesty
was engag'd against
France.
But now the Peace being concluded betwixt these two Potentates, the Emperor thought of no less than swallowing up the
Turks
in a Campaign or two at most, and dislodging 'em of all their Possessions in
Europe.
But whether that Prince meant to take his ease after so tedious a War, or, what is more likely, that true Policy oblig'd him to desire a Peace, there were already some Proposals made, that had a favourable hearing from both Parties, and perhaps without that Prince
Eugene,
who about this time saw himself at the Head of the Emperor's Army, would hardly accept of the
Office
of Vice-Roy of
Navarre.
But now finding himself oblig'd to put up the Sword, he was glad, that by the
Emperor
's Influence, the Queen of
Spain
had that
Deference
for him. However, her success in that was not so favourable as it was on the behalf of the Princes of
Darmstadt
and
Vaud
mont.
For the Services of the first at
Barcelona
pleading highly in his Favour, she carried it for him without any Opposition; but she met with more difficulty in regard of the Government of
Milan.
Some would have it continued to the Marquiss of
Leganez,
who was there already, or conferr'd upon some
Grandee
of
Spain;
but that was far from the
Queen
's mind; she meant rather to strip them of what they possess'd than provide them with new Governments. The Duke of
Medina Celi,
one of the most considerable Grandees of
Spain,
and most belov'd of the People, was Vice-Roy of
Naples.
He had pass'd some years in that Employ, and places of that nature are usually triennial in
Spain;
yet she would gladly have it conferr'd upon one of her Creatures, but her Friends thought it not convenient, and rather advis'd her to the contrary to continue it to him; and gave for their reason, that she ought to be very cautious in bringing him to
Spain
in the present Posture of Affairs; which would not fail to awake the People's Affection for him, and consequently to make some Obstacles to the Emperor's Designs.
The Reasons which oblig'd the
Emperor
to strike up a Peace with the
Port,
were these. His Power became formidable, not only to the Princes of the Empire, but even to his other Allies. Besides, knowing his Pretensions to the Succession of
Spain,
they not only oppos'd it privately, but even avowedly. The Princes who granted him Succors against the
Turks,
spoke of withdrawing them. The New King of
England,
before he was own'd by
France,
offer'd his Mediation for agreeing the Parties. He had sent two
Ambassadors
to the
Port
on purpose, to propose it to the
Grand Seignior;
but they both died upon their way thither. This appearing very extraordinary, because the
Sultan
's Interest seem'd altogether opposite to his Conduct; and, besides the Death of these two Persons affording matter of Speculation upon a great many things, some believ'd assuredly they had been poyson'd. This might have discourag'd his
Britannick Majesty
from sending any more Ambassadors into that Country; but considering that the
Turks
their rejecting of the Peace, was only grounded upon the Diversion was made in their favour, and that possibly they would lay aside their Obstinacy, when convinc'd of their Error, he assum'd his first Resolution, nor was he in the least deceiv'd; for the
Grand Seignior
accepted of his offer now with as much warmth, as he had rejected it before with indifference. He accepted of
his Mediation,
and the
States-General
's, which was offer'd to him at the same time. And being satisfied that in the Peace they had made with
France,
they had easily surmounted all the Difficulties that commonly attend the Preliminaries of
Treaties,
they mean'd to follow the same Method in
this.
The Emperor understanding, that the
Turks
had accepted of the Mediation that was offer'd 'em, gave notice of it to the
Potentates,
who were interested with him in the War; namely, the
Republicks
of
Venice
and
Poland,
and the Great Duke of
Muscovy.
They were mutually ingag'd in an
Offensive
and
Defensive
League; so he being resolv'd to do nothing without their Consent, desir'd them to give in their Pretensions in
Writing,
while the Parties should have condescended upon the place of assembling. For his own part, he put in his, which he did not expect would be granted, because the Jealousy the
Mediators,
as well as other Princes had of his Power, oblig'd him to make an end of these Differences. He pretended that the
Turks,
by the
Teeaty
that was on foot, ought to be oblig'd to give him up
Belgrade
and
Temeswaer,
with all the
Right
of Soveraignty, that he possess'd in
Transilvania.
At the bottom, these People thought themselves very happy, that the Emperor would consent to a Peace upon so reasonable Terms; but however Barbarous they are, they are truly Politick, and no sooner perceiv'd that the Mediators, as well as they, were glad to oblige him to lay down his Arms, but they refus'd to consent to these Terms.
The
Republicks
of
Venice
and
Poland,
and the Great Duke of
Mus
vy,
fearing that Prince would have made the Peace without them, sent Ministers to
Vienna
to pry into the Affairs there. The
Czar
sent thither his own
General,
while himself resolv'd to pass into
Holland
and
England,
to establish a more solid Commerce in these Countries than had hitherto been done. He look'd upon himself as one of the most powerful Princes of
Christendom,
in regard of the vast extent of his Dominions; but being ignorant how to improve so great a
Power
to the best advantage, he was little more esteem'd than the Prince of
Courland.
He no sooner thought of his Resolution, then he put it in Execution. He took his Road through the Marquiss of
Brandenburg
's Dominions, who receiv'd him with all the Respect due to his Person; from thence having pass'd into
Holland,
he continued there some time, applying himself diligently to the knowledge of their Commerce and Policy. In effect, seeing their
State
much more flourishing than could have been thought, in proportion to their Extent, he easily conceiv'd it was only owing to their Prudence and Conduct; and being thereby the more induc'd to imitate them, he entred into a new
Treaty
of Commerce with them, and bought some Ships of them. Afterwards he pass'd into
England,
and having acquainted the King that he had Affairs to propose to him, his
Majesty
appointed Commissioners to hear them.
While the New King triumph'd after this manner, either upon the account of the advantageous Peace he gave to
Europe,
or the great Confidence his Allies had in him, or the Consideration they had for him, insomuch that nothing could be enterpriz'd without his Approbation; the Pope's Nuncio, whom he had sent into
Poland,
after he had conferr'd with the
Ordinary Nuncio
at that Court, and been inform'd by him of the State of Affairs in that Country, signify'd to his
Polish Majesty,
that his
Holiness
was not so averse to his Election, as he supposed; that the main thing in question was, whether his Conversion had been sincere; and provided that Point was clear'd, the
Holy Father
would be fully satisfied. God alone was capable to know it: there being none besides, who can search hearts: However, in all outward appearance, this Prince would have the World convinc'd, he was a good Catholick. At least he perform'd all the Duties of a true Catholick, and omitted nothing to confirm the People in the belief of his Sincerity. The
Nuncio
being sensible of what considerable Advantage the
Pope
's Consent would be to him, for gaining to him these Persons that continued still in his Enemy's Party, upon a suspicion that his Conversion was only feigned, and being apprehensive that as soon as he were peaceably establish'd on his Throne, he would return to his Vomit:
I say,
The
Nuncio,
who understood how necessary his
Holiness
was to him, like a cunning Politician, mean'd to make the best use of this opportunity; and therefore, before he would assure him altogether of the Apostolick Favour, he represented to him, that it was impossible for him to perswade all
Europe
of the Sincerity of his Conversion any other way, than by testifying, as a new Convert, the profound Respect he had for his
Holiness;
that since all who profess'd that Religion owed an intire Obedience in Holy Matters to the Apostolick See, he wish'd his Majesty would not only renounce certain Privileges that the Kings of
Poland
pretended to as their Right, but also dismiss all the
Lutheran
Ministers that followed him; without using that pretext for retaining them, that he had a great many of that Religion along with him. He also proposed many other things of the like nature; a plain evidence, that the Court of
Rome
never neglects any Advantage they can catch. Upon these Conditions he offer'd to imploy all his Interest with the Cardinal Regent, to pacify the Commotions of the Kingdom, putting him in hopes that the Respect he had for the Person who sent him, would oblige the Cardinal to accept of the Terms he design
d to propose to him.
The King of
Poland
being sensible, how capable the Cardinal's Party was to annoy him; besides, that new Commotions were arising in
Lithuania,
which was all up in Arms to support two Parties that made War against one another, to wit, Prince
Sapieha,
General of the Troops of that Duchy, and the Sieur
Oginski,
Great Ensign of it, a Dignity of a distinguishing Importance in that Country;
I say,
The King of
Poland
being afraid that this Quarrel, which seem'd to proceed from Jealousy, was only a pretence to reverse his Election, promis'd to the
Nuncio
all he desir'd. However, he desir'd to be excus'd from signing any thing touching the Privileges he would have him to renounce, until he were better inform'd in what they consisted, and had the Advice of the Republick, without whose Approbation he could not handsomely conclude any matter of that importance. The
Nuncio
could not well disapprove of this Objection that appear'd so reasonable. He went to
Lowits
to confer with the Cardinal Primate, whom he found so enrag'd against his
Polish Majesty,
for protecting so avowedly the Bishop of
Cujavia,
his mortal Enemy, that he almost despair'd of ever succeeding in an Affair he had promis'd so confidently to bring about. But as the
Italians
are cunning Politicians, qualify'd with a deal of Patience, he gain'd by degrees upon his Eminence's Passion. He gave him to know, that the Prince could not have acted other ways than he had done hitherto; for as much as that Bishop had been all along the Soul of his Party; that he agreed with him, in thinking, that he had reason to resent the Actions of that Prelate, who had incroach'd upon his Privileges; that after all, he ought to consider, that it was not in his Power to hinder what was done, nor so much as revenge it by force; that his Party, who fell off daily, was in no Capacity to enterprize any thing against his Enemy, who was supported by his
Polish Majesty
and his Troops; that
France,
by whose means he had hoped to triumph over him, never pretended to concern themselves any further in the Quarrel, having formerly declared so much to his
Holiness
by their
Ambassador;
so he would find himself certainly mistaken if he
aid any
stress
upon them.
The
Cardinal Primate
was much surpriz'd to hear the Nuncio speak after that manner; not questioning, in the least, the truth of this Declaration, he sent immediately one of his Creatures to his
Most Christian Majesty,
to assure him that his Party was not yet reduc'd so very low, but they were in a condition to foil their Enemies, if his
Majesty
would give them a very small Assistance. The Prince of
Conti,
who was no more in the humour to return to that Country, and indeed never was, when left to his choice, gave his
Majesty
so very bad an Impression of the sordid Avarice of the
Poles,
that he was little less than enrag'd at the Arrival of this new Envoy. He thought the
Cardinal Primate
ask'd him Succours, only to make his own Terms the better. So he sent back his Envoy with Letters, signifying what he had already declared to the
Pope,
namely, That he would concern himself no more in the matter. His Eminence was too happy in making use of the Cardinal Nuncio to interceed for him with his
Polish Majesty.
There was a Treaty made between the Parties, by which the
Cardinal Primate
promis'd on his own behalf, and in behalf of his Party, to own that Prince for their Soveraign. The King of
Poland,
for his part, promis'd to give him some Satisfaction upon the Bishop of
Cujavia
's Account. By this
Treaty
there was also an Authentick Provision made for the Injury done to the
Cardinal Primate
's Dignity, by the boldness of that
Prelate
in Proclaiming and Crowning the King after his Election. It was also agreed upon by this
Treaty,
That the Nation should never lay down their Arms, until they had oblig'd the
Turks
to restore
Caminieck
and
Podolia.
For it was alledg'd, That if the late King of
Poland
had been cordial in the War against the
Turks,
he might have recover'd it; but he who had sav'd
Christendom
by the seasonable Succours he brought to
Vienna,
which had he only delay'd three Days longer, all had been lost without Remedy, became so lazy in what concern'd the
Republick,
that one would have thought he had lost his Senses. However, by this
Treaty
they oblig'd the new King to carry on the
Siege
at his own Expences, and upon these Conditions they condescended he should keep his Troops in the Country, though formerly they murmur'd extreamly for that these Troops had enter'd the Kingdom contrary to their Laws and Customs. And even from that Subject took occasion to exclaim highly against him, as if he had entred the Nation by force, and mean'd to secure it by Conquest, rather than by lawful means.
After the Conclusion of this Treaty, the Cardinal Primate went from
Lowits
to pay his Homage to the King at
Warsaw.
His
Majesty
sent the principal Gentlemen of his Court to meet him, and honour his
Entry,
which had much more the
Air
of a
Triumph,
than what was due to the merit of a
Criminal.
He was accompanied into the Palace by a great many Persons of Quality, who were overjoy'd to see this Reconciliation. The King and he had a private Interview for half an hour. It was generally believ'd, that the Troubles of the Kingdom were now at an end; and in effect, the Queen of
Poland
having lost all hopes of seeing her Son upon the
Throne,
which till that time she never despair'd of, ask'd his
Majesty
's Leave to pass some time at
Rome.
The King refus'd it before he advis'd with his Council, which was compos'd of the principal Senators of the
Nation.
However, they saw no inconveniency in granting it, and gave her to know that she should not be hindred to depart when she thought fit. Accordingly she put her self in a readiness to be gone against the latter end of the Year. Every Person applauded that Princess's Conduct, for after all she had done to hinder the
Election
of his Majesty, as well as of the Prince of
Conti,
she could hardly remain in the Kingdom with any satisfaction, nor could she handsomely pass into
France,
where it was impossible for his Most Christian Majesty to see her without Indignation; yet it was generally believ'd she would chuse
France
for her Retreat, it being natural for People to love the place of their Nativity. For it was openly reported, That she was treating with the Duchess of
Portsmouth,
and her Son, the Duke of
Richmond,
for the Duchy of
Aubigny
in
Berry,
which the late King
Charles
II. bought for that Duchess upon certain Conditions, not very acceptable to her. But the King being sensible, that if he did not tie her up to such Terms, a Woman of her Temper might be reduc'd to end her Days in an Hospital, was therefore glad to do her this kindness against her Inclination. He had already a Mistris of the same Temper, namely, the Duchess of
Cleaveland,
who had lavish'd away all that the King had given her. However, he bestow'd large Sums upon the Duchess of
Portsmouth;
and such was his Liberality, that he had laid out above a Million of Money for
China
to her. But though there be nothing harder than the Substance 'tis made of, she found out a way to melt it all at
Paris,
without suffering any other inconvenience by it, than what ordinarily attends
Misery.
However, it was not altogether impossible to accommodate the Difference betwixt the Queen of
Poland,
and his
Most Christian Majesty,
if her
P
lish Majesty
would condescend in some measure to imitate the Count of
Bi
lk
mention'd before She might have own'd her self in the wrong, and supplicated his
Majesty
for the Honour of his Protection; but she was too haughty to condescend to it, insomuch, that she was now wholly intent upon leaving speedily a place where her Circumstances had suffer'd so sensible an Alteration. For during her Husband's life-time, every one was glad to truckle to her, in regard of the Ascendant, they knew, she had over him. Now the Scene was chang'd, and so different from the former, that every one was ready to impute to her, what was blam'd in her Husband, as if she had been the only Person who prompted him.
The King of
Poland
being thus own'd by the
Pope,
and wanting only now to be recogniz'd by his Most Christian Majesty, in order to enjoy peaceably the Dignity of a Crown that had been so much disputed, sent a Person of Quality to
France,
to excuse the Robbery committed upon the Abbot of
P
lignac
's Equipage, and to establish a good Correspondence with his
Majesty;
for, though in appearance he had no need of him, especially, being so strictly join'd in Alliance with the Emperor, and all the Princes his Neighbours; yet, considering that Kings have long Arms, especially the King who governs
France
at this time, he would omit nothing that was due to Policy. The King receiv'd his
Envoy
with all the marks of Respect he could wish for, and all Parties forgeting the occasion of their Differences, a good Intelligence and Union was establish'd betwixt the two Nations, though hardly to that degree it had been formerly. In the mean time, the King return'd to the Prince of
Conti,
the Money he had expended in the pursute of that Crown, which in all probability pleas'd him much more, than if he had obtain
d
it.
Not that he is Covetous in any degree, but continuing still Amorous, the satisfaction he enjoy'd in seeing his
Mistriss,
rendred him insensible of all other pleasures. Besides, he was soon comforted for the loss of that Dignity, by the liberal share he had with the Duke of
Vendome
in the
Dauphin
's Favour, and the hopes he had of gaining his Process before the Court of Parliament, as he had done formerly.
However, there happen'd an Accident to the Duke, that was like to deprive him both of that Advantage and his Life. In his return from
An
t,
a House which King
Henry
IV. had given to the Lady
Jane Gabriell,
of whom he was descended: He was like to be drown'd in a Post-Chaise, for he was up to his Chin in a little River, which he was oblig'd to pass, and it being the middle of Winter, the Cold which he suffer'd, was capable to do him all the mischief that could be expected from so cruel an Accident. But as he is a Noble Prince, who delights to do good, and has no Enemies; and besides, had acquir'd a great deal of Glory before
Barcelona;
so every one was overjoy'd to see their Fears end more happily than they expected. It only cost him a
fright;
however, this General, who by his Conquest, had gain'd the Reputation of the greatest
Hero,
being subject to a great many Infirmities, as well as the
Ancient Hero
's, found himself so bad, that he was oblig'd to apply himself to Physicians. He had contracted a Disease that gave him more trouble, than the taking of four
Barcelona
's. And his trouble was so much the greater, that his Malady was of an old standing, and created him every moment insufferable Pains; he enjoy'd no manner of rest, and it was to be fear'd; that if he neglected it any longer, it might be pass'd all cure. He resolv'd to put himself into the hands of a Chymist Physician, nam'd
Chambon.
This Gentleman was nothing different from those of his Kidney, that is to say, neither better nor worse than a Quack, who boast as highly, as if they were many degrees above
Aesculapius;
but if he cured four Persons, he certainly kill'd a whole Dozen, and the Cures he had perform'd, were rather the Product of
Chance
than of
Skill.
He was much at one with Dr.
Carette,
who had but one Remedy for all manner of Diseases, and yet would have Mankind believe that he was the ablest
Physician
in the Universe. Be it as it will, this new Physician set himself up in form, because he had cured some few Persons in the World, and amongst others, a certain Abbot of
Chaulieu,
who was a sort of Intendant of the House of
Vendome.
This Abbot was very desirous that the Duke would make use of
Chambon
to cure him. However, the Duke withdrew in a short while, and had no great reason to brag of his Physician's Remedies. For
Chambon
did nothing, and at this time, the Duke finds himself in little better Circumstances, than when he first made use of him. It may be rather said, That he is still worse, for the more inveterate these Diseases are, they are the more difficult to be cur'd. Yet some will have it, that his Grand-father found the means to be cur'd after Forty Years; but that was scarce done by the Skill of a Chymist, and its probable, that if his Grand-son had copied him, he had apply'd himself to some other Person, than his Intendant's Favourite.
The Duke of
Savoy
had no reason to complain of his Daughter's Marriage; but knowing that the King had no mind to have it consummated, he intreated his
Majesty
to consummate it, to the end his Daughter's Condition might be more secure. He was afraid that the Duke of
Burgundy
might come to die by some mischance, and so his Daughter be return'd upon his hand. But that was far from his Majesty's Inclination; on the contrary it was well known, if that had happen'd, he would have married her to the Duke of
Anjou;
and in view of that only, he hindred all Commerce betwixt them, to the end, that a Dispensation might be the more easily obtain'd. I can't tell, whether the King made his Design known to him; but it is certain, that after the Marquiss of
Ferrette
had spoke to him by his Majesty's Command, the Duke was not only out of all hopes, but shew'd no Inclination to it. However, if he could not obtain that Demand, he succeeded (in a short time after) much better in another he made to his
Majesty.
He intreated him to Banish Madamoselle
de Soissons
(whose Conduct was offensive to him) out of his Kingdom. He also desir'd of him to cause shut up Madamoiselle
de Carignan
in a Convent. The last shew'd a great deal of Complaisance to a married Man, who lived after a very indifferent manner with his own Wife; whether it was that he had inherited that of his Father, who had never been a good Husband, or that the Affection he had for this Princess, made him peevish at the sight of all others. It was much suspected, that the King himself was the principal Author of these Demands, to the end that these two Persons might no more be seen at Court, nor in
Paris.
Though they had the Honour to be so nearly related to the Duchess of
Burgundy,
yet their Behaviour was altogether unworthy of their great Quality; for besides their Conduct, that was not very regular, they were both in extream Necessity, and so far from being in Circumstances to support a Rank suitable to their Birth, that they had hardly wherewith to maintain sufficiently the Condition of very ordinary Persons; besides, the King was fain to supply them by his Royal Bounty, without which they had often wanted the very Necessaries of Life. The eldest was sent to
Brussels
to keep Company with her Mother, who resided there; the other was shut up amongst the
Carmelites
in the
Suburbs
of St.
James,
with express Order to the
Superior
of the Convent, that she should be permitted to speak to none, but certain Ladies, whose Names were transmitted to him in Writing. Madamoiselle
de Carignan
might have easily avoided this Indignity, if she had had a mind; she had been warn'd of it a long time before; and the King himself sent her word, that if she meant to please him, she would take a Maid of Honour of his Recommendation. At that time he offered her Apartments at
Versailles,
with sufficient Maintainance for that Lady of Honour; but she excus'd her self, under pretence, that she had one already, and that she could not handsomely accept of another, without exposing the first. However sincere she might have been in her Excuse, yet in a thing capable of a double entendre, People are more ready to take them in an ill Sense; every body believed that her Excuse proceeded only from the great desire she had to continue her Intrigue. But the King having put an end to it, after the manner above related, her Gallant was to look for his Comfort where he could find it.
In all appearance he could not be so easily comforted, whether he thought that his Honour was concern'd, or that he was
really
afflicted, as he would have the World believe; he display'd his Wrath more than ever against his Wife, and though she was reputed a Lady of intire Virtue, yet (as it was generally believ'd) he us'd often to lay hands upon her. But till that time, she conceal'd very industriously what just Reason she had to exclaim against his Conduct; but after that, and several other Outrages, it was no more in her Power to dissemble her just Resentment of them. She complain'd of them to all her Relations, that they might the more readily approve of her Intention to commence a
Process of Separation of Bodies
against him, for she had been of a long time
separated
in
Goods,
without which, she and her two Children had been reduc'd to the greatest
Indigence.
In effect, this Man's Conduct was so mean, that he went often, not only without one Penny of Money, but without Cloaths and Hat. No body could disapprove of her design, which she put in Execution a few days after; and her Husband, who had retir'd from her some days before, told his Wife's Friends, that it was altogether needless for her to plead for a Separation from him, since for a long time he desir'd no better, and would allow the
Sentence
to pass whenever she thought convenient. But there being many more People who delight in Debauchery, than in vertuous
Living;
this Gentleman was nevertheless acceptable in certain Companies, even Princes countenanc'd him as they had usually done; and being one day at the Duke of
Chartres
's Table, there was by chance some
Sauce
dropp'd by one of the Attendants upon his Cloaths; and however Plain and Coarse these Cloaths were, he was extreamly vex'd at the Accident; no wonder, for he had got no other in his Wardrobe for a change. This he told the young Prince betwixt Jest and Vexation. The Prince seem'd not to regard it, but talking with the Company, said,
That ordinarily Misfortunes attended them who were least able to support them.
He intreated two or three Persons of Quality, who were there, to go keep him Company the next day:
For in all appearance,
said he,
you'll find him in Bed while he sends his Cloaths to the Scourers, and at least that will be some Comfort to him.
This poor Husband was actually oblig'd to do what the Duke said; but the next day the young Prince sent him four Suits made by his own Taylor, to the end, that if any such misfortune befel him another time, it should never hinder him to appear as usually.
About that time the King caus'd to Arrest one of the Ushers of his Chamber, one of the most visionary Companions in the Universe, whom, notwithstanding his
Majesty
allow'd to Discourse with very often, in regard he durst not let his Folly appear before the King, which he had not the wit to conceal in other Company. He had of a long time thought to cause Hang all the Seamen, from the Marshal
D'Estree
and
Tourville
to the very meanest. He pretended they were all Rogues, upon certain Memoirs which a Commissary of the Marines (who was broke) had given him. He had importun'd his Majesty a thousand times upon it, and represented to him, that if he would examine the Abuses which had crept into the several Employments of these Officers; he might find a fair opportunity of raising, justly, a Tax upon them to the tune of Sixty Millions. It was about the middle of the War when he spoke after this manner to the
King;
they had a deal of difficulty to raise Money, and therefore his
Majesty
thought the Advice was not to be despis'd, and supposing there might be somewhat in it, he sent him to Monsieur
Pontchartrain:
But that highly displeas'd this Extravagant Gentleman, who probably had a mind to regulate this Affair himself with his Majesty, or perhaps design'd to involve that
Minister
in these pretended Malversations; for a Fool is capable of any Extravagancy. However, he was oblig'd to obey the
King;
there was hardly a Person to be found, who thought himself more able and fit for business than this Fool. But Monsieur
Pontchartrain
being as Prudent, as he was rash, knew presently how little ground this
Numskul
had for what he advanc'd. He acquainted the King with it. His
Majesty
was much of the same Opinion; yet this Man, who had the opportunity to speak to his Majesty, whenever he pleas'd, could not be perswaded of his Error, but still presented new Memorials to him, by which he intreated him to appoint some other Commissioners to hear him, who might have more leasure to examine the matter, than Monsieur
Pontchartrain;
offering upon pain of Death to make out what he advanc'd to be as clear as Day-light. This
Confidence
of his, together with some secret
Springs
he set at work, made the King resolve to give him a
Hearing.
He obtain'd also some
Acts of Council,
by which he pretended to give a light to some obscure Affairs. From that time forward, this rash
Numskul
never saw any of the Officers of the Marine enter into the King's Chamber, but he told to such as were by him, that these Gentlemen were to be tax'd in immense Sums; one in two Millions, some in more, some in less; and he though
t himself already one of the first
Peers
of the
Kingdom,
because he had ask'd of his
Majesty
a share of what was to be recover'd of these Gentlemen by the Tax; and the
King
had granted it to him; but himself had promis'd a share of it to such as were capable to ingratiate him with his
Majesty.
This must needs have been very disagreeable to the Person concern'd. However, this little Gentleman forgot himself more and more daily, even to that degree of Impudence, as to vaunt, that notwithstanding all what Monsieur
Pontchartrain
was able to do, he did not doubt in the least to succeed in his Enterprize. In fine, That
Minister
being no longer able to bear with his Extravagancies, made it his business to represent them to the King. He had slighted them long before, as well as the Person who was guilty of them. He thought him only unworthy to be regarded; but every one told him, That his Interest was concern'd more than he was aware of, in making his
Majesty
acquainted with the truth of the Affair, for he having the whole Power of the Sea-Affairs, it seem'd as if he accus'd him under-hand, of conniving at these pretended Abuses, that he suffer'd in others. So he was at last prevail'd upon by these Reasons; and therefore made known to the King, that this Man was only an extravagant mad Fool, fitter to be sent to
Bedlam,
than countenanc'd by so great a King; that his Impudence, or rather his Madness, appear'd too evidently, in daring to accuse two
Marshals
of
France,
together with the whole Body of the Sea-Officers, without any regard to so many Persons amongst them, equally considerable for their Services, and distinguished by their Quality; and very incapable of doing any thing against their Duty; who came daily to him to demand Justice of that Fool for his Insolence, and intreated him earnestly to represent it to his Majesty. He added that he hop'd, that his Majesty would cause to examine once for all, the Accusations of that unaccountable Fool, to the end he might be confounded, when it should be made manifest that the Accusation was rather visionary than real.
The King having heard this
Minister
very attentively, promis'd to do all he demanded, without loosing any time. Accordingly he commanded the Commissioners whom he had ordain'd to examine that Affair, to search narrowly into it. The Commissioners apply'd themselves presently to it, and having discover'd that all what he advanc'd, was in effect nothing else but the Imagination of his empty Brain, they gave his
Majesty
a full account of it. The King immediately forbid that Man ever to trouble him any more with that Affair; but he not being wise enough to take the advantage of this Advice, would still insist as formerly, and had almost said, that all of them had conspir'd to save the guilty. The King told him a second time, that he commanded him absolutely never to speak to him of that Affair, though he was so good as to conceal what he had reason to believe of him. This Man thought at last his best way was to dissemble, and obey his
Majesty
in appearance. But while he seem'd to be silent, he left no Stone unturn'd to return to his former Trade. He brought over the Knight of
Lorrain
to his side, in order to engage the Duke of
Orleans
in the Affair; and tho' such eternal
Protens
's as this Knight, are little to be credited, yet he made use of his Interest with that Prince to succeed in his design. The
Duke
spoke of it to his
Majesty,
who was exceedingly surprized, that this little Gentleman dar'd to fall upon these Methods, after he had expresly forbid him. He told freely his Sentiments of it to the Duke, and forbid him ever to concern himself with such Affairs. From that time the King resolv'd to get rid of him, though it is always against his Inclination, when he falls upon such extream Measures with any, who had the Honour to be his Domestick; for no Prince ever shew'd greater kindness to his Servants. However he suspended his Resolution until he saw that it was impossible to make him Prudent. This little Gentleman being severely check'd by the Knight of
Lorrain,
because he brought him into bad terms with the Duke of
Orleans,
was still so Impudent, as to put up a Petition in the Duke of
Rochefoucaut
's Name, without ever acquainting him with it beforehand. It's true, he had been twice at the
Duke
's Lodgings after he had done it, without having the opportunity of meeting with him. He hop'd that the
Duke,
who was in very good Terms with his
Majesty,
would regard his Visions as real Truths, and espouse his Interest as his own. This Petition was presented to his
Majesty
before the
Duke
had time to return home, and the King made mention of it to the Duke. He made him also the same Compliment he had made formerly to his Brother, the Duke of
Orleans,
to wit, that he would not take it kindly if he harken'd to that impertinent Fool, or ever spoke of his Affairs to him. The Duke extreamly surpriz'd at this Check, which he had by no means deserv'd, because the Petition had been given in without his knowledge, protested to the King that he was ignorant of what he meant, and was so far from excusing his Fault, that he desir'd Justice for what he had done. The King promis'd to give him full Satisfaction, and resolv'd now more than ever to get rid of such a dangerous and medling Fool. However, as if this
Numskul
had not already done enough towards his own Ruin, he wrote a Letter, in which he complain'd, that the
King
himself oppos'd the Service he intended to do him: This Letter was intercepted and brought to his
Majesty.
He found it too Insolent to confine his Punishment only to a Banishment from his Presence. He caus'd him to be sent to the
Bastile,
where he was commanded in the King's Name to lay down his Charge. He shifted the matter for a while; but in the end, it being insinuated to him, that he must expect to continue Prisoner there for life, if he would not comply; he chus'd to do the last.
The Sea-Officers were not the only Persons who were accus'd unjustly. There came about that time a certain Abbot of Quality from a Foreign Country, of whom they took the liberty to say no better things. For they accus'd him of having desir'd to speak with King
William,
before the Peace was sign'd, and to perswade him, that he ought not to think of making a Peace with
France,
for that
France
could not fail to be absolutely destroy'd, if the War was continued two Years longer. His Family being one of the most considerable of all
Britain,
was extreamly afflicted when they heard him talk'd of after that manner, especially his eldest Brother, who was in the Service, and pretty well advanc'd. He durst not shew himself any more to the
King,
fearing his
Majesty
would make him answerable for the Crime alledg
d against his Brother. Nevertheless, his Majesty, after the Example of the
Almighty,
had long before explain'd himself upon that Head, saying in presence of all the Court,
That every one should bear his own Crime, and that Relations were not to be answerable for the Iniquities of their Relations:
And in effect, one of the
Musqueteers
having committed a horrid Murder in the Year 1676. His
Majesty
knew no sooner that his Brother, who was a Captain of Horse, was so extreamly afflicted at it, that he design'd to make his escape into the
Low-Countries,
than he advanc'd him in the Life-Guards. He could give no more evident Proof to all the World, that he never meant to make one answerable for another's Crime. However, this
Abbot
's Brother being a Man of singular Honour, though he was sensible of the
King
's Justice, yet he could not avoid g
ieving extreamly at it; and what added much to his Grief, was, that he distrusted his Brother altogether. He knew very well, that his little Band never hindred him from doing many things, which reflected mightily upon that Habit. He had occasion'd a Divorce betwixt a Husband and a Wife. He carried on an amorous Intrigue with a President's Wife, which occasion'd great wrangling betwixt them; nor had the Husband stopt his Resentment there, if his Relations and Friends had not convinc'd him, that a great many Chances attend our Lives, which it were better to conceal than declare. These things he partly believ'd, but it was not in his Power to hinder himself from Murmuring, which did the
Abbot
a great deal of injury, who both by his Quality and his Brother's Service, pretended to have already a good
Abbey,
but now saw himself a thousand Miles distant from it. The King, who desires that every one should mind his Duty, that is to say, that a Soldier be a Man of Courage, that a Judge be Just, and a Church-man Honest and Pious; no sooner knew that he made it his practice to Debauch other Men's Wives, instead of confirming them in Virtue, than he absolutely forbid Father
de la Chaise,
(who had put him down in his Pocket-Book, in order to have a good Benefice) ever to propose him any more as a Subject worthy of any Dignity.
The poor
Abbot,
who had more
Quality
than
Riches,
was extreamly vext to see his hopes so frustrated by his own faults. However, knowing that there was Mercy for all Sins, he put himself into a
Seminary,
Whether he truly repented of what he had done, or would make the World believe he did so; by these means he meant to free his
Majesty
of the bad Impression he might have of his Conduct, and insinuate himself into his Favour. The King, who is a very Judicious Prince, and is seldom or never mistaken in his Opinion of Persons, did not allow himself to be impos'd upon by that Change, so very different from his former Life. For he Preach'd, Fasted, and Catechiz'd; and in a word, there was not one Church-man, not only in the
Seminaries,
but even within twenty Leagues round it, whose Conduct was more Exemplary than his. Father
de la Chaise
was very desirous to oblige him, but could never comprehend whence arose the
King
's Aversion for him; being naturally good, and more inclin'd to judge well than ill of any Person, he took occasion to speak to his
Majesty
of him, and represented to him, that the Austerity of his Life, and his regular Conduct, did not only deserve an
Abbey,
but even a
Bishoprick;
that the greatest Sinners become ordinarily the greatest Saints; and if
God Almighty
were like him, they must blot out of the Calendar a great many Saints; who after having committed very great Crimes, had shew'd the Abbot the way he follow'd at present. The King was nothing mov'd at his Confessor's Discourse. On the contrary he answer'd him, that he might blot him out of the List of Bishops, as he had done a while ago out of the List of Abbots, for he never would honour him with that Dignity.
I do not know, if ever this Answer was made known to the Abbot, or if he was already weary of passing his Days in a
Seminary,
and waiting so long time for a Benefice, of which he saw no appearance; whatever was the matter, he chang'd his
Residence
very soon. It's true, it did not renew his Intrigue with the
President
's Wife, or with any other. On the contrary, he avoided all for a long time, as if he meant to continue the Life that he made so great a shew of in the Eyes of all
France.
But whether he saw that they would eye him narrowly, or that he intended to continue his Course, he pass'd into
Flanders,
where he apply'd himself to Catechizing every day: He also began to assist dying Persons; and the Marquiss of
Blanch
ford,
second Son to the Duke of
Crequi,
falling Sick about that time, it was he that exhorted him to prepare himself for the Passage that appears so terrible, especially to those of such a youthful Age as he was of. Father
de la Chaise
took occasion upon this also, to speak to the
King
in favour of this
Abbot.
He told him, that the Abbot did not require his Presence to oblige him to good Actions, and so he could not be reproach'd (as a great many others might justly be) with Hypocrisy. But the King nothing mov'd by this new Attack, answer'd,
That he could never perswade him but that the Abbot was no good Man; that time would discover very soon which of them was most deceived, but he did not believe it was himself.
Father
de la Chaise
reply'd,
That he was afraid his Majesty offended
God Almighty,
in judging so badly of his Neighbour.
But his Majesty return'd it smartly home, in saying,
That he was afraid, that he offended him more, in desiring him to give a Bishoprick to a Man, whom he thought altogether unworthy of it.
I know not whether this Answer came to the Abbot's Ears, but all of a sudden he left the great desire he had shown (while in
Flanders
) to Catechize Men; and without acquainting any Person with his design, went into
Holland
to caress the Women there; at least he was seen doing it soon after his arrival. However, his going often to the House of one of the Plenipotentiaries, gave occasion to some People to say,
That this
Preacher
was not only debauch'd, but also a very dangerous M
n.
In a word, he was suspected to have given not only Memoirs to that Ambassador, but also to have had a private Interview with King
William,
and reveal'd to him a great many Secrets. However, all that was false, nor had he any other design to go so often to that Ambassador's, than to pay his Respects to a Person who fill'd the President's Lady's Room in his Heart. She was also somewhat more deserving than the other, without doing her any injustice. However, as one Lye general
y begets a great many amongst those who vent them; the next Day all
Paris
would have it, that the King had wrote to King
William
to entreat him, to send him the
Abbot
bound Hand and Foot; they made it also known to the pretended Criminal by a Letter unsign'd, and the Hand-writing was altogether unknown to him; but advised him, if it came seasonably to his Hand, he would make it his Business to save himself by flying to
Turky,
rather than suffer himself to be taken.
The poor Abbot was much astonished at this Accusation; if they had accus'd him of being Amorous, he had been oblig'd to own it, because it was true. Neither the
Seminary
where he had been, nor the Mortifications which
Pere de la Chaise
had advanc'd so much in his Favour to the
King,
were capable to wean him from that unhappy Passion to which (to his great Misfortune) he was very subject. In fine, knowing himself not only Innocent, but also uncapable of the crime laid to his Charge, he went to wait upon Monsieur
Harlai,
in order to ask him, if he had receiv'd the
Order,
of which they had given him Advice secretly; if so, he came to put himself into his Hands, so that it would not be necessary to Arrest him; and if it was sent to any other Person, he came however to deliver himself Prisoner to him, that they might not be at the trouble to search for him; he intreated him to acquaint the King with it, that his
Majesty
might be satisfied of his Innocence, until he could make it evident before any Commissioners his Majesty should be pleas'd to appoint. Monsieur
Harlai
had heard somewhat of the Matter before. This oblig'd him to examine his Conduct, and to set some Spies upon him, in order to watch whither he went at some certain hours; for he judg'd that it must needs be about that time that he was most busied about his Treason, if Fame was to be believ'd; but at last, these Spies reported to Monsieur
Harlai,
that he was altogether took up about his
Mistriss,
which justified him so much in his Opinion, that he gave him to know, he wish'd with all his heart, the Prison he was engag'd in, might not prove more troublesome to him, than what he came to look for at his House; that it would not prove very hard for him to break his Chains, because he not only declar'd him free, but also Innocent of what was laid to his Charge, as far as consisted with his Power. However he believ'd, that his Heart was not so much upon the
French,
as it had formerly been; but as it's impossible to be always in Love, he was perswaded it might return to its former Inclination when he thought least of it; and by these means he might be at ease, for he would secure him, none would impute to him this as a great Crime. In effect, this was the Abbot's Crime: And though he was shelter'd in it from all he was threaten'd with; nevertheless he was not so happy as to continue always in the good Esteem of Father
de la Chaise.
He durst not speak any more in his Favour to his
Majesty,
considering he had set up a
Holland
Lady in the place of the President's: His
Majesty
ask'd also that good Father, if he was now convinc'd, and if he intended still to demand a Bishoprick for that Abbot. The Jesuit was somewhat humbled at that Reproach, and all he could say for his Justification, was that he could not hinder himself from being impos'd upon, by the Tricks of an Hypocrite, no more than any body else.
But if his
Majesty
was proof against the Recommendations of his Father Confessor, whose Opinion in Matters of that Nature gains generally the
King
's Consent, the Case was quite different with regard to another
Abbot,
whom this good Father protected also. I mean the
Abbot
of
Coadlet,
whose sad Adventure has no Parallel in any Ancient or Modern History, nor perhaps ever will have in those to come. Not but that they afford us Examples enough of depos'd Bishops; but as that is seldom done but by the Authority of the Church, or upon the account of manifest Heresy, or for some other Capital Crime, If I be not mistaken, I may confidently say,
that the History I mean to insert here, exceeds what can be said of these Examples.
But be it as it will, the Abbot of
Coadlet,
a Gentleman of
Britany,
though he had already a Dignity in the
Chapter
of
Vannes;
yet he thought it not amiss to ask some other little Benefice, by which means he might subsist the more conveniently, and confin'd the utmost extent of his Ambition to the having four or five thousand
Livres
a Year. And to that end, by the means of very good Friends, apply'd himself to Father
de la Chaise,
upon whom he believ'd all these Matters depended. This good Father told him,
That he did himself an injustice in restricting himself to so narrow Bounds, and that he ought to ask some better thing, for he could hope to obtain it.
The Abbot was over-joy'd to hear him speak after that manner; and as generally a good Appetite increases by eating; so this Gentleman of a little Abbot, was now very desirous to become a fat Bishop. However, he durst not mention it suddenly to
Pere de la Chaise,
but the good Father gave him to know, that the Dignity he enjoy'd already in the Cathedral, render'd him worthy of the other, especially when it was joyn'd to all the other Qualities requisite for a Bishop; so he got himself to be listed in the Catalogue of the Candidates for the
Episcopal Dignity.
However, he continued at
Paris
until the King had fill'd up some vacant Bishopricks, which had Pretenders enough. For now the Scene is alter'd from what it was formerly, amongst those, upon whom they conferr'd that Dignity, who said ingenuously,
Nolo Episcopari:
I will not be a Bishop. For now-a-days, they think at least, if they do not say,
Volo Episcopari,
(
i.
e.) I will be a Bishop, and no doubt they think it from their very Heart, because it is impossible to give an account of all the Friends they employ, or of all the Springs they set at Work, in order to obtain the
Mitre.
The Abbot of
Coadlet,
who knew pretty well the Secret how to come by it, was not sufficiently satisfied to hear only Father
de la Chaise
for him, tho' he was the best Friend he could employ, but he apply'd himself to others also, who were capable to do him as considerable Service as the former. For he thought as in legal Processes, abundance of the Law breaks not the Law; so in offers of this nature, he could never make use of too many on his behalf. However, as there are many, who Ruin themselves in making use of the Methods that others save themselves by; so he found that what he took to be of greatest advantage, prov'd most destructive, and that to such a degree, that it's impossible for him ever to retrieve it. Being inform'd, That in the Age we live in, Women are as serviceable as any thing else; he made his Address with his utmost Application to Marshal
Crequi
's Lady, who was his Country-woman. That Lady promis'd him her Favour, and was as good as her Word. But he having likewise heard that old Women have not so much Interest as young ones, quickly abandon'd her, and took up with her Daughter-in-law, whom he took to be more capable to serve him. He waited upon her punctually every day; and in the Holy-week, he happening to be at her House, had not the power to refuse to accept of a match at
Ombre
that she propos'd to him; some say it was
Bassette;
but either of 'em is equally criminal before God, unless it be that the one is a greater Instrument of Passion than the other. However, he consider'd that 'twas not a proper Imployment for one that pretended to a Bishoprick, especially at such an unseasonable time; and for that reason he carefully requested the Lady, and all her Company, that the Doors might be kept very close lest any body should see him ingag'd in an Exercise so inconsistent with his Profession. 'Tis such a common thing at
Paris
to see the Gentlemen with the little Band playing at all sorts of Game, that the very Foot-men, who over-heard his Discourse, look'd upon him as a Hypocrite; but they were strangers to his Pretensions, and consider'd very little of what consequence it was to him, to have it conceal'd from the
King,
nor how necessary it was for him to have it kept secret, least it might blow up his design.
However, that Week having pass'd before the King heard any thing of these Transactions, he filled up the vacant
Benefices,
according to his usual Custom, upon
Easter-day,
for he never names any body but at that time, whether it be, because it's a Formality of a long standing, or that the King's Confessors have introduc'd it in order to have themselves courted the more during the Interval; but passing over that, as a thing I have no mind to search into, we must believe, that this
Abbot
was only known to the King upon the account of his Brother, who was
Lieuterant
of the
Guards;
however seeing him first in the List of the
Candidates
for
Bishopricks,
he ask'd his
Father Confessor
who this Man was. The
Good Father
meaning to do him a kindness, had no mind to say any thing to his disadvantage, but extoll'd him to the Heavens for the best of Men; insomuch, that his
Majesty
believing him one of the best Men, and of the most exemplary Life in his
Kingdom,
nam'd him for the
Bishoprick
of
Poictiers.
This news was no sooner known at
Paris,
than every body was amaz'd, for his name was never heard of out of his own
Prov
nce
before, though by what happn'd to him in a short time after, it was in every one's Mouth. Every body, who heard he was to have that
Bishoprick,
believ'd he must be a Person of extraordinary Virtue, in regard the King had chosen him to so good a
Benefice,
to the prejudice of a great many considerable Persons who expected it. But those who had play'd with him at the Marchioness of
Crequi
's, made no Secret to tell others, that he was not so wonderfully
Godly,
for he had employ'd one day in the
Holy Week
at
Game.
This News came the same Day to the King's Ears, which made his
Majesty
pass that Night in a mortal Anxiety, fearing that
God Almighty
would call him to an Account for having
nam'd
a Person to a Bishoprick, that was capable of so black an Action.
The next Morning, Father
de la Chaise
coming to him to have the
List
of those, who were named to the Benefices,
Signed,
as soon as the King saw this Abbot's Name underneath, instead of signing, he blotted it out: The
Good Father
ask'd him what he did, not understanding what he meant. The
King
answer'd, That there was a Man in that List, who did not merit to be there; that he knew nothing of him, when he had given him a Bishoprick, nor he himself could not have known him, when he propos d him as a fit Person; but, that he had been since justly represented to him, and that the over-sight he had committed, had almost thrown him into Despair. This reflected in some measure upon the
Good Father,
who had told him Wonders of this Man, the more to oblige those who had recommended him; and perhaps he himself believ'd all was told him to the advantage of that Person. However, the Jesuit altogether amaz'd at these Expressions, made use of the Authority he had over his
Conscience,
to oblige him to change his Resolution. Though it was easy for him to judge, by what the King had said, that of necessity some People had given him a strange Character of that poor Abbot; yet he said, That we must not believe upon light grounds, all that we hear of our Neighbour, that he had often recommended to him the reading of the little Book of the
Imitation
of
Jesus,
and there he might see a Chapter done purposely upon that Subject; that
Lying
abounded in a great measure amongst Men, as well as Jealousy; insomuch, that his Majesty's Bounty was sufficient to move all the Malice of Hell against him.
The King having hearken'd attentively to what he said, reply'd,
That it was no Lye they told him, as he imagin'd; that it was a thing happen'd lately in the presence of a great many, that he also knew the Witnesses; insomuch, that he had not the least ground to doubt of it.
The
Good Father
desir'd to know what the matter was; the King made no Secret of it, adding moreover,
That if Fame was to be credited, that Abbot was no less a Lover of the
Sex
than of Game.
And in effect, this was told the King with a great deal of assurance; but whether he lov'd them or no, for I know no body hates them; it was certain that he gave no Scandal to the World that way, as his Enemies alledg'd; so the King was soon perswaded that he was impos'd upon in that Affair. However, Father
de la Chaise
seeing that the other was a weighty Accusation, and that the King kept close to it, he thought of throwing some scruple into his Mind. He told him then, That there was more of Infirmity than of Crime in what the Abbot had done; that it was certain, it was rather out of Complaisance than Inclination, or want of due Respect to these
Holy-Days,
that he had handled the Cards at that time; that very few People knew of this his fault, but now all
France
would begin to pry into it, and even suspect an infinity of things, as soon as his
Majesty
should deprive him of what he had once conferr'd upon him; that his
Majesty
ought to be very cautions in giving that Scandal to his People, that certainly he must be answerable for it before
God:
That a small Reproof given in secret to that
Abbot,
would prevail more with him, and oblige him to ask
God
pardon for what he had done, and by this means all would be buried in Oblivion; that after all, it ought not to be regarded as a heinous fault, but in respect to the time it was committed, for he was not the only Ecclesiastick who a had Passion for
Game;
since there were many
Bishops
and
Abbots,
who made it their principal Exercise; though after all, they were not depriv'd of their
Bishoprick
and
Abbots
upon that account. He own'd freely to his
Majesty,
it were more decent for them not to do it, and was of Opinion, that these things ought to be none of their Diversions. But in fine, the Spirit of Mankind is weak, and there being four and twenty Hours in the Day, it is impossible to employ them all in Exercises of Piety, and therefore they are allow'd to refresh themselves with innocent Recreations.
The King had no great opinion of this Morality, he thought it too loose, especially with regard to those Men who were the Subject of the Discourse. For he put a vast difference betwixt them and a Courtier, or a Man of the Sword, whom he thought might be allow
d such things; but to believe that Ecclesiasticks ought to have the same extent of freedom, was a thing, with all due Respect to his
Father Confessor,
he could never be perswaded off. So it being impossible to convince his Majesty by this Objection, he was fain to have recourse to some other Argument. He insisted upon the Scandal he was like to give, but that gaining nothing upon him, he pray
d him to advise with Heaven before he would determine absolutely the matter. His
Majesty
consented willingly. For in that he demanded only what became a good Christian, and was conformable to the Inclination of this Prince. So the King kneeling that very minute upon a Cushion, Father
de la Chaise
kneel'd by him, to make him say the Prayers which he desir'd. Prayers being ended, the
Good Father
ask'd him what return the
Lord
made. His
Majesty
reply'd,
Nothing of what you wish'd for, and that he was as resolute as formerly to execute his design.
He added,
That he saw it very inconvenient not to do it; for if he should make that
Abbot
a
Bishop,
and if he should neglect his Duty in his Diocess, God Almighty would one day call him to an Account for it; that he had faults enough of his own to answer for, without taking upon him those of other People; and he believ'd him too Good, and too Pious, to advise him otherwise.
The
Good Father
was not yet put off with that Answer. He ask'd of the
King
as the last Favour, to suspend his Resolution until he should return from
Mass,
whither he was just agoing. He conjur'd him to invoke earnestly the
Holy Ghost,
that he might enlighten him. The
King
condescended very willingly; but not having receiv'd the Inspiration which the
Good Father
pretended, he declar'd,
That he had blotted that Abbot out of the
List,
because he did not believe him so proper for a Bishoprick as he at first imagin'd.
The poor
Abbot
of
Coadles
heard of these News with all the Surprisal and Grief imaginable. He retir'd into a
Seminary,
there to bury his Vexation However, the King calling to mind what Father
de la Chaise
had said to him, and being desirous that he should be suspected of nothing but the
Truth,
declar'd at the same time, before all the Court,
That what that Abbot had done in the
Holy Week,
was the only cause of his Misfortune; that whatever else was said of him was false, and that he was oblig'd to give that Testimony in his Favour.
The
King
having show'd himself so full of the fear of
God
in an Affair of so great Consequence, shew'd himself equally full of Justice in another Affair that concern'd a Man of the same Country. Which was as follows: a Counsellor of the Parliament of
Britany,
call'd
Montchamp,
having cudgell'd the Nephew of
Moreau,
the famous
Actress
in the Opera; and who gave some ground to speak of her upon an account different from what she acted upon the
Theatre;
the young Man carried his Complaint to his
Majesty.
The Counsellor expected that his Interest in the Parliament, in whose Assembly that Affair was done, would shelter him from all Accidents. He treated already that Man very slightingly and meanly. But the Lady of that Opera, whom Persons of the first Quality ador'd, having espous'd her Nephew's Quarrel, obtain'd a private Letter in his favour. This Letter enjoyn'd the Parliament expresly to do the Plantiff so good, and so ready Justice, that he should have no reason to complain of it.
Montchamp
understanding by these means, that he had to do with a more powerful Party than he thought of; had recourse to such Tricks as are usual among the People of his Trade. He made a diligent Inquiry into the Life, not of the Aunt, (for it had been no difficulty in the least to prove a great many things of her) but of the Nephew. For he thought that if he could d
s
over any unwarrantable Action in it, as he hop'd he might, he could at least retard the Process, which his Adversary had commenc'd against him. However, not trusting very much to these hopes, he was fain to fall upon other Measures to get rid of this unlucky hit; and therefore intreated the Marshal of
Cr
's Lady, who was his Relation, to cause an Accommodation to be propos'd to
M
r
.
This
Actress
was no sooner apply'd to, than she stood aloof. The
Marshal
's Lady threaten'd her with the discovery the
Counsellor
made in her Nephew's Life, on purpose to fright her. But whether she was afraid of nothing from that Faction, or that she thought she had Friends enough to protect her, she carried her Pretensions so high as to demand Ten thousand Crowns of the
Marshal
's Lady for her Nephew's Interest and Damages. As soon as the Lady had acquainted her Relations that there was no hopes of an Accommodation for him, he spoke very scornfully of such an exorbitant Demand; so applying himself altogether to a vigorous Defence, he would certainly have confounded the opposite Party, if the Parliament had condescended to it. He gave in a Petition against the
Plaintiff,
shewing that he had two Wives. He desir'd to have a Decret pass'd against him; but bringing no valid proof for his Accusation, the
Parliament
durst not declare in his Favour, for fear of a Reprimand from the Court. For the secret Letter which they had receiv'd, together with a Letter from the
Attourney-General
of the Parliament of
Paris,
gave them to know, that they must proceed justly, if they meant not to have their
Sentence
liable to a Revisal. Above all, they were afraid of the
Aunt
's Friends, suspecting very much, that if they gave them the least ground of Complaint, they should have them, more than her, for their Adversaries. In fine,
Montchamp
failing in his Expectation, and not being able to produce any Proof for what he alledg'd; though he had employ'd some considerable Persons in it, Sentence was pronounc'd upon the Affair. He was suspended for six Months, and having receiv'd a Reprimand behind the
Bench,
he was condemn'd to pay the costs. He had made an offer before of Four thousand Livres to his Adversary; but by the Calculation made of the Charges, they did not amount to so much, which was no small Mortification for our
Actress M
r
au.
For had it depended upon her, she had protested against the
Sentence.
But the Gentlemen of the
Robe
assur'd her she would fail in the attempt, so that she was fain to condescend against her Inclination.
As
Britany
furnishes us thus with an instance of
Violence
committed upon the Person of one of her Publick
Magistrates,
so
Paris
produc'd somewhat like it in the Son of one of her's; but what is something more, it was executed upon a Person of
Quality.
The Marquis of
Novion,
Son to the late Monsieur
Novion,
Master of the
Rolls,
and Brother to the present Monsieur
Novion, President
of the
Soveraign Court,
falling in Love with a certain
Chanoinesse,
whose Mother was of the same Family with Monsieur
de Caumartin,
he humour
d her to that degree, that he promis'd, as is alledg'd, to revenge her Quarrel upon a Gentleman, of whom she complain'd heavily. She was extreamly vex'd that this Gentleman, who call'd himself the Knight of St.
Geniers,
should have pressed her somewhat too hard to pay him some Money, that he alledg'd he had lent her. He had been formerly her
Lover;
but whether she pretended, that when once a Man is in Love with a Woman, he ought to give and not lend, or that he had demanded his Money after a rude manner; she had told the Marquiss so often, that this Gentleman was troublesome to her; that he was charg'd with what I am now to recount. The
Knight
of St.
Geniers
passing one Day along a Street that was pretty near his former Mistriss's Lodgings, was attack'd by five or six
Bravado
's of
Paris,
who are always at a short distance from one another, when they design any thing. And their Valour consists only in that, which has some Relation to what Monsieur
de Turenne
was us'd to say, namely,
That
God Almighty
was always of the strongest side.
In effect, their Train obliges those, who would have no regard for them, upon the lay of Man for Man, to shew them some Respect. But whether it was upon that account, or that the
Knight,
being one of
Maltha,
own'd no Enemy but a
Turk,
he had no Inclination to meddle with this Man. But this pretended
Hero,
who had serv'd his Apprenticeship to Slaughtering, being the Son of a Butcher, seeing the Knight took no notice of some small Indignities he had given him, had a mind to know, whether or no he had forgot his first Trade, though some time ago he had exchang'd it for the
Rapier.
He meant therefore to slit his Nose, and perform'd it so dexterously, that all the Nose was left the poor
Knight,
hung by one small Tendon, and he had certainly cut it off quite, had he not been hinder
d by some People who interpos'd, but he made his escape while the
Knight
's Wound was a dressing. The whole Town was immediately alarm'd at the boldness of this Action. It was no great difficulty for the
Knight
to judge who had hatch'd this Mischief; and therefore as soon as the Chyrurgion had dress'd him, he went immediately and made his Complaint to the
Commiss
y.
The
Lieu
enant Criminal
gave out a Warrant against the Bravado, and some other certain Gentlemen who accompanied him in the Exploit. But as to the
Marquiss,
the
Chanoinesse
and her Mother, whom the Knight had likewise accus'd, he had some more Consideration for them; for the Respect he had for their Relations, oblig'd him to proceed very nicely against them. He thought it sufficient to Issue out a personal Summons against the three: The Mother and the Daughter made their Compearance, and were interrogated. But the
Marquiss
of
Novion
durst not show his Countenance, in regard his
Bully
had been so foolish as to suffer himself to be apprehended. But he retir'd to a Friend's House, hoping that by his Reputation in the
Robe,
he might save the Guilty from a just Punishment. But his
Majesty
being inform'd of the whole Affair by one of the
Knight
's Friends, commanded the Matter to be examin'd very strictly, so that the
Marquiss
was fain to leave
Paris,
and save himself by flying to
Swisserland
It
happy for these Women, that they never had either seen or heard of this Bully; insomuch, that he not being able to accuse them, they were without any farther difficulty absolv'd from their personal Summons. However, the
Bully
was sentenc'd by the
Lieutenant-Criminal
to be hang'd, nor could he avoid giving of that
Sentence.
However desirous he was to oblige the
Marquiss
's Family. The
Marquiss
's Friends advis'd the Criminal to fear nothing, for the Parliament, to whom he had appeal'd, would infallibly clear him. But the Knight suspecting the matter, prevented their threatnings, and petition'd the King, to give him other Judges, which he obtain'd. The
Appeal,
instead of being brought before the Parliament, according to the usual Custom, was brought before the Great Council. The Measures of the
Marquiss
's Friends and Relations being by this means quite defeated, they advis'd him to keep himself close where he was, for seeing his Affairs had taken so fatal a turn, it was by no means safe for him to return into the Kingdom. But being Colonel of the Regiment of
Britany,
and all the World believing him guilty, a great many People made Interest to have his Regiment. Monsieur
de Boveron,
the Marquiss of
Harcourt
s Father, ask'd it for the Marquiss of
Sesane,
his eldest Son of a second Marriage. For he had married for his second Wife, the Marquis of
Genles
's Widow, who was the late Marshal
de Fabert
's youngest Daughter.
The
Marquis
's Relations were sensible of what importance it was for them to weather this Storm; for if once the
King
dispos'd of his Regiment, it would not only prove a mortal Stroke to his Fortune, that was already pretty low, but the World would also look upon it as a sort of Conviction against him. They therefore supplicated his
Majesty
that he would be pleas'd to delay that Affair for some small time, promising to oblige their Kinsman to return quickly in order to clear himself of the Crime laid to his charge; and alledging he was reduc'd to mean Circumstances, upon which account it would be equally acceptable to take away his Life, as his Regiment. The King, in consideration of their Services, granted their Request. And the Marquis of
Sesane
was oblig'd to provide for himself somewhere else, if he meant to have a Regiment. However, this made no stop in the
Appeal
of the
Condemn'd Criminal,
for the
Sentence
being confirm'd; when he perceiv'd that all their fine Promises were not sufficient to save him from a Rope, he charg'd the Marquis of
Novion
with the Crime at his Death. This
Sentence
satisfied in some measure the Knight's Revenge, who always saw the Marks of his Affront when he look'd into his Glass. For tho' his Nose was stitch'd up, yet the Seam appearing, was no small Mortification to him; so that he could never be at ease until he had the same Satisfaction of others, that he had already of the
Bully.
He prosecuted them very eagerly before the same Tribunal. However, he could never have his Revenge of them, as he pretended; for though he prevail'd so far, as to have the Cause remov'd from before the Parliament, where the
Marquis
had a great many Friends and Relations, and generally all Judges stick close by one another; yet to this minute the Affair remains undecided. For they started so many difficulties, that it is impossible for one of a more considerable Interest than his, to remove them; besides, to plead in Criminal Matters, requires a more weighty Purse than his, and yet could easily exhaust it. In the mean time, another Adventure happen
d to President
Novion
▪ s Nephew, and however extraordinary the first appear'd, yet it bears no proportion with this I am about to mention now.
This President's Wife was a Gentleman's Daughter, whose Office it was to give out the Powder, by which he had got immense Sums of Money. She had a Sister by her first Marriage, who was the Widow of a certain Man, call
d
Ombreval,
Advocate-General of the Court of
Aides,
by whom she had some Children, and amongst the rest, a Son of one or two and twenty Years old: He studied the Law, that he might succeed his Father in his Profession. This young Gentleman coming from the
Law-School,
saw two Jesuits passing along, and at the same time a Cart loaded with Bundles of Rods, then he told his Companions, that these
Dis
ples
of St.
Ignatius
had often whipp
d him in the College, and he had a good mind to be reveng'd of them now that he found his opportunity; he mean'd to bang them like
Bridewel-Birds,
and to that intent each of them might take a Bundle of these Rods from the Cart, and oblige these good Fathe's to ask them Pardon for all the Cruelty they had made them suffer before. In all appearance he had only said this to divert himself But his Companions understanding him literally, the most foolish, and most bold of 'em, leap'd upon the Ca
t, and in spite of the Carman, unty'd the Bundles, took up handfulls of the Rods, and like so many Furies fell upon the poor Jesuits, who never dreamt of the like Adventure. There was no great matter of Ceremony in the Compliment they made them. They told them only, they had often oblig'd them to pull down their Breeches against their Inclination, and now they meant to do the like to them; that common Justice requir'd they should pay them presently for all the Evil they had suffer'd by them, and they would make them sensible, by which means they intended to perform it. This Folly appear'd so extravagant, that the two Jesuits could never understand what they meant. But these
Furies
made them to know very quickly by falling suddenly upon them; that its altogether as dangerous to fall into the Hands of
Scholars,
as into the Hands of the most barbarous
Hangman
upon Earth. Some pull'd off their Cloaks, others their Gowns, while another Party unty'd their Breeches, another pull'd up their Shirts, the young
Ombreval
serv
d for Executioner, together with another of the same Family, who had consign'd his Money in order to be a Councellor of Parliament.
All the People got to the Windows upon the noise these poor Jesuits made, to call to the Neighbours for Assistance; and among others, a pretty young Girl, who was more zealous than the rest, to hinder them from receiving any greater Affront, cry'd aloud, that it deserv'd a severe Punishment, as in effect it did; but perceiving she was not heard, she went down Stairs to see if her
Presence
could have a greater Influence than her
Words;
but alas! her Charity cost her very dear. For these Scholars, who were far from having so much good nature as she, seeing her espouse so earnestly the part of these good Fathers, that she reproach'd them for their Injustice; seiz'd her also, pull'd up her Peticoats behind, and whipp'd her as they had done the Jesuits. After that, she pleaded no more for them, but as soon as she got out of their Hands, she run in and shut the Doors, and got up to her Chamber in great Confusion and Vexation at her Adventure. The Jesuits had reason to be no less vex'd. However, though the same fate happen'd to them all, they having been all three whipp'd in the open Streets; there was still this difference in the Sequel, that the Adventure prov'd more fatal to the Girl than to them. The Fraternity receiv'd them always with the same kindness into the Convent. They vow'd also to revenge it in a little time, or dye in the Attempt; whereas the Girl was abandon'd by her Lover, and swore he would not have her; they had agreed upon their Marriage, and the Articles had been already sign'd, but he fearing that if he proceeded further, he might be call'd all over the Town,
The Husband of the whipp'd Girl,
could not endure to hear it spoken of. They threaten'd to prosecute him, if he did not make good his Promise. He answer'd,
He valu'd it not, and that he would defend himself the best way he could;
and its probable his Reasons might have prevail
d, for every one condemn'd the Indiscretion of the Girl, to meddle where she was so little concern'd.
This Action was too publick, and too bold, not to spread in an instant over all
Paris.
Monsieur
D' Argenson
had soon advice of it, and it being his Duty to find out Criminals, he sent so many of his Spies abroad, that he soon discover'd young
Ombreval
to be one of them. He also knew, that this Gentleman began the Fray, and was one of the Executioners, through whose Hands those Jesuits had pass'd. He likewise found out the other's Name, who had executed the same Office, and caus'd them both to be taken up. President
Novion
was extreamly offended at him, as if he ought to have that deference for him, as not to treat after that manner a Person that concern'd him so nearly. But this Vanity and Haughtiness were very familiar to that Family, though it was of a far later standing than Monsieur
D' Argenson
's. Before St.
Innocent
's
Shrine
was alter'd, which was but lately, we had an
Epitaph
extant, that shows sufficiently, they have neither so much
Nobility
nor
Grandeur
in their
Race,
as they would make the World believe. It is far different from what we see at this time in the
Celestines,
where the Duke of
Gevres,
one of that Family would have us believe, that he is lineally descended from St.
Louis.
Though the Family be only come from a
Merchand,
one
Fourner,
who made his Son an
Advocate,
and that Son laid the Foundation of the vast
Grandeur.
However it be, President
Novion
minding that less than the Post he possess'd, thought himself far above Monsieur
D' Argenson,
and wrote to him very disrespectfully upon what he had done. Monsieur
D' Argenson
regarding his Letter very little, went on in his ordinary Course, so that the
President
was fain to take his Nephew out of Prison, and his Companion came out after the same manner: Both of them had a good many Friends, and the Accusation they were charg'd with, being destitute of Proof sufficient to bring them to a Tryal, they were very happily clear'd of it. This was all the Jesuits had for their Satisfaction, and the poor whipp'd Girl for her's; besides the Mortification of having miss'd of a Husband, together with the Grief and Indignity she receiv'd.
In the mean time, the
New King
of
England
sent a
New Ambassador
to Court, namely, the Earl of
Portland,
his old Favourite. For the Earl of
Albemarle
only succeeded to him, if I may say so; for though he was his
Britannick
Majesty's Darling, yet
Portland
was in as good Terms with his Master as ever. Moreover he had this advantage over the other, that besides the Favour which was common to them both, he was confided in. This
Earl
renew'd that
Grandeur
at our Court, which was to be seen in the time of the Duke of
Buckingham,
when he came to demand in Marriage for the
King
his
Master, Mary Henrietta
of
France,
Sister to
Louis
XIII. of glorious Memory. I mean by this, that he came with such a stately and magnificent Equipage, that the like had not been seen, of a long time, with an Ambassador. He had a permission to bring over with him some
French-men,
who had gone into
England
after the Revocation of the Edict of
Nants,
and who never durst have ventur'd to return afterwards without a Pass-port. However,
Degrez,
whom the Court had employ'd to take up
Ministers,
and other Persons of that Religion, look'd upon this as a favourable opportunity for him, and did not fail to make his advantage of it. It being his ordinary Custom to render every Person suspected, in order to make the best of his Trade, he upon a certain Day took up one of the Ambassador's
Ministers,
while he thought of going to see one of his Friends, who was an
Advocate.
It was very happy for this
Advocate,
that he had been all along a Catholick, for that
Quality,
and his wise Conduct shelter'd him from the evil Designs of this
Kidnapper,
whose Gain it was to cast every one in Prison. He told him freely his Sentiments of such proceedings; for he had no Orders to do what he did then, but it was his ordinary practice, that he might be thought the more
Zealous,
though all his
Zeal
consisted only in his Interest. The
Minister
ask'd him, what it was he accus
d him of; and why he made his Prisoner after that manner, he being the Ambassador of
England
▪ s Domestick, to whom only he was oblig'd to give an account of his Conduct. It was upon that score that the Advocate exclaim'd against
Degrez,
making him to know, that the Court would never approve of such Proceedings.
Degrez
found himself oblig'd to answer all those Demands, which the Advocate back'd with all the Arguments he could invent, telling him, That he engag'd himself, as well as the King, in an unwarrantable Action. The Wound that the War had given to
France
was still bleeding, and
Degrez
knowing that all this Mischief was brought upon them by the Ambassador's
Master,
he thought he was oblig'd to give him some Reason for what he had done. He told him that the
Minister
had administred the Sacrament to one of his Religion, and had sent for him to that end to the Ambassador's House, and that being forbid, it was very warrantable for him to take him up, as he did. And thus he was not afraid to declare himself Sacrilegious, the better to colour his Design. In effect 'tis true, that was prohibited; but 'tis as true that the Minister was never guilty of it, and therefore desired to see the Person who accus'd him. Now
Degrez
had brought a Fellow along with him to the Advocate's Door, who had indeavour'd to impose upon the Clergy-man. For this Rascal had pretended to be a Protestant, and apply'd himself to the Minister to procure him a Pass-port for
England.
The Minister was in effect impos'd upon. He believ'd him in good earnest to be some poor Man, whom the Zeal for his Religion oblig'd to quit his Country and Friends; but knowing that was not permitted, he endeavour'd to comfort him, without giving him any other relief. But the Rascally Fellow had no mind to tell his Master that answer, or if he had,
Degrez
pleaded ignorance. However, the Minister was so exceedingly vex'd at this Calumny, that if his Character had allow'd him to meddle with any of them, he had doubtless bang'd the Villain to some purpose. But that being impracticable, he desir'd
Degrez
to cause arrest him, and told him if he refus'd it, he must be answerable for it to my Lord
Portland,
and that the
King
their
Master
was capable to do himself Justice, and he might come to hear of it in a short time. The Advocate added, That he might find it to his disadvantage. These Expressions put the little Gentleman into a fright; he went to Monsieur
D'Argenson,
to know of him how to behave in the matter. His Officers had always an eye upon the Minister after that; but Monsieur
D'Argenson
found that the Advocate had advis'd him well, and commanded him to put his advice in Execution. In fine, he was forc'd to send his Man to Prison, and set the Minister at liberty, according to the Order that Monsieur
D'Argenson
had given him. It's certain, this false Witness deserv'd to be hang'd, or at least to be sent to the Gallies, to teach all those of the like Kidney prudence upon their own expences. But as the wick'd find favour rather than honest Men, whose misfortune brings them into any inconveniency, they delay'd to proceed against him, until my Lord
Portland
was gone, and then they set him at liberty.
All the Court show'd this
Ambassador
singular Marks of Honour. The
Daup
ine,
the Duke of
Orleans,
and all the great Lords of the Court, invited him to Dinner, while he for his part kept a very splendid Table. The Count of
Auvergne
youngest Son to the Duke of
Bouillon,
gave him the use of his Lodgings while he stay'd at
Paris;
and himself went in the mean time to
Holland
to his Wife's Estate, who died there about that time. This
Ambassador
had at his Entry a hundred Livery-men, and six Coaches, three with eight Horses, and three with six; and continued the same Grandeur all the time he stay'd at Court. He always made his Visits with all that Attendance, to let the World see how little he resembled a great many of that Quality, who discharge three parts of their Equipage the next day after their Entry; so that he spent almost a hundred thousand Crowns in the two Months that his Embassy lasted.
King
James
pass'd his time very indifferently all that while. He heard from all hands the Honour done to my Lord
Portland,
which was such as perhaps was never shown before to any
Ambassador.
This made some People believe that there were some Alliances on foot betwixt the two Kings, and the more, because my Lord
Portland
had three or four Private Audiences of his
Majesty.
However, while some
French
People suspected, that they thought of dividing
Flanders
between them two, after the Death of the King of
Spain,
whose Health was very infirm, it came to be known that these private Audiences were upon a very different Subject. My Lord
Portland
insisted upon the removing of King
James
at a farther distance from the King's Presence, promising in his Master's Name to give him and the
Queen
a Pension sufficient to excuse his
Majesty
from the Expence he had been at upon that Prince, since he had made a Sanctuary of his Dominions. But the King would never give ear to it, which exceeded King
James
's Expectation, who, in case the
King
had abandon'd him, was resolv'd to retire to
Avignion,
for he began already to inform himself, if he could live conveniently there. For as the King was oblig'd in Policy to make Peace with his Enemy, though he had promis'd never to make it, until he had restor'd him to his Crown, he was afraid that the same Policy might also induce him to grant what was demanded.
The King of
Spain
's Malady increasing every Moment, insomuch, that it was generally thought he had few days to live, did not only move all the Powers of
Europe
to delay the Reform of their Troops after the Peace, but likewise retarded the Evacuation of some Places, which his Majesty was oblig'd to Surrender. However, the Marquis of
Harcourt
receiv'd Orders to go with all di
igence to the Court of
Madrid
with this
Instruction,
that if he saw no probability, as in effect there was none, to bring the Succession of his Catholick Majesty to fall upon one of the
Dauphine
's Sons; he should endeavour, at least, to hinder its coming to any of his Imperial Majesty's Children. For it was to the Emperor and his Descendants, that
Philip
IV. the present King of
Spain
's Father had left it by his Will. And the
Emper
r
becoming already very powerful by his Conquests in
Hungary,
he was thereby become so suspected to his
Majesty,
that he was resolv'd to have recourse to his Arms, rather than suffer it to fall into his Hands. And, accordingly, to fright the
Spaniards,
he caus'd to file off Sixty thousand Men to the Frontiers of
Italy, Catalonia,
and
Navarre.
He was sensible that would add some weight to his Ambassador's Discourses, and might also awaken the Ambition of some Grandee of the Country.
The Marquiss was no sooner arriv'd in
Spain
than he apply'd himself to business. He told those, who were capable to act in concert with him in an Affair of such importance, that
Philip
IV. had gone beyond his Power, when he pretended to dispose of his Crown at pleasure, against the Laws of Nature. That it belong'd lawfully to his Daughter's Children, and not to his Relations in the fourth Degree, who could pretend to no Right of themselves. That the
Dauphine
had three Sons, and the Duke of
Burgundy
's second Brother was still as pliable as wax, whom they could Mould into any Form they pleas'd, and if they would fix their Eye upon him, they might easily breed him to their own Customs; that if this fail'd, the Prince of
Bavaria
being Grand son to a Daughter of
Spain,
the King, his Master, would rather approve of his Election, than of the Emperor's, or of any of his Children, unless they had a mind to follow the Example of the
Poles,
who to oblige
Strangers
to agree among themselves, had twice chosen a Sovereign of their own Country. And this was all the King pretended to, considering he could not expect to bring the Crown of
Spain
into his own Family. But the Queen of
Spain
having a watchful Eye upon the Conduct of this Ambassador, who made it his business to renverse her Designs, pry'd narrowly into his Intrigues, and remov'd the King, her Husband, some distance from
Madrid,
under pretence that the Air was prejudicial to his Health. She carried him to
Toledo,
and pretending it was only upon the account of his Health; would allow no body to follow him thither. Nay, she left some Ministers that she confided in at
Madrid,
in order to receive whatever any of the Ambassadors had a mind to offer. The Marquis
de Harcourt
saw clearly with what view the Queen made this Journey, and that she intended to be so fully Mistriss of the King, her Husband's Inclinations, that she could obtain of him whatever she had a mind to. He fear'd she might prevail with him to confirm
Philip
IV's Will; and at the same time observ'd, that the Count
de H
rrach
was no more to be seen at
Madrid,
and in all probability was gone to
Toledo;
upon this, he went immediately thither also, under pretence of having receiv'd a Memorial (which he forg'd) from the King his
Master,
with positive Orders to communicate it to his Catholick
Majesty.
The Queen of
Spain,
who did not in the least expect it, was extreamly surpriz'd to see him there; and caus'd the King, her Husband, to whom he presented his
Memorial,
to acquaint him, That he had left the Cardinal of
Corduba
at
Madrid
on purpose, to whom he might have communicated his Memorials, as well as to him; that his principal Intention for coming thither, was to recover his Health, and not to trouble himsel
with Business; and therefore he might apply himself to the
Cardinal
in all Affairs of
State.
However, considering that the Memorial was not very long, and that in all appearance it tended to his own advantage, he thought he was oblig'd to answer it himself. One thing to be consider'd, is, that the King of
Morocco
had for a long time besieg'd the Fortress of
Ceuta
in
Barbary,
which belong'd to his Catholick
Majesty,
but could never take it. Nor was the King of
Spain
in circumstances to raise the Siege, though he had attempted it several times. In all appearance these
did not carry it on very vigorously; whether they were ignorant how to carry it on, or that they thought the
Conquest
the more Glorious after a Siege of so many Years. His most Christian
Majesty,
by this Memorial, offer'd to the King of
Spain,
if he pleas'd, to send Men of War and Gallies to succour that place. His Catholick Majesty had enough of his own for such an Enterprize, without being oblig'd to borrow of any other Prince. But he was so treacherously serv'd by him, whom he had entrusted with his Orders, that instead of executing them, he deserted to the Enemies. Nay, he did much worse, for not being satisfied to Renounce his Master only, he renounc'd also
Jesus Christ,
which was esteem'd so great an encouragement for these
Infidels,
that, after that, they thought they had gain'd all. Such an accident, in effect, confounded all the Governors his
Catholick Majesty
had upon that Coast; and this was the Subject, or rather the Pretence of the
French
Ambassador's Memorial. But whether his Catholick Majesty had no mind to accept of such suspected Succours, or that he thought he could do without them, he thank'd the
Ambassador
for the proffer, observing with him, at the same time, all the measures of Civility, that were proper for the occasion. However, he who had renounc'd his
King
and his
Faith,
beginning to be sensible of his fault, and to repent of it, confess'd that he was a
Christian,
and abhorr'd his
Apostacy.
But the
Infidels,
who had made a great deal of noise of his change, expecting to oblige him to return to them by the force of
Presents
and
Promises,
indeavour'd to regain him; but seeing him continue in his Repentance, and that there was no possibility of bringing him over again to them, they threaten'd to treat him as they usually do
Apostates
from their
Religion,
I mean, they threaten'd to Empale him after torturing. But he expected no less, and was fully resolv'd to undergo all, being extream glad to expiate by these Torments, the heinous Crime he had committed against his
God
and his
King.
So being no ways frighten'd by their Menaces, he submitted himself very freely to all the Torments they could invent. In
ine, in the middle of these dismal Torments, he joyfully confess'd him whom he had denied: upon which they put him at last to Death, least by his Constancy some amongst them might be mov'd to acknowledge, that he suffer'd for a good Cause, in regard he seem'd so insensible of Pain in his Torments.
After this Answer, the Marquis of
Harcourt
was obliged to return to
Madrid,
and endeavour'd by all means possible to gain the People by a very agreeable Conduct; his Wife, the
Marchioness,
came also from
France
to second him. For having an infinite deal of Wit, she thought to infinuate her self by degrees into the Queen's Affection, and gain her Confidence by the means of some Proposals she believ'd would prove mightily to her Advantage, with regard to her Person. It was highly presumptuous in her to entertain that thought. To be sure, her
Majesty
would be much upon her guard against her; for besides her being the Wife of a
M
narch,
who is a capital Enemy to
France,
there was not the least appearance she would hearken to any thing that came from that
Nation.
The Queen of
Spain,
notwithstanding her being a
German,
began to conform her self to a Court, where Trick and Policy are in Vogue as much as in any in the Universe, and therefore se
gn'd presently to be exceedingly charm'd with the
,
to the end she might the more easily know her Secrets. The
Marchioness
told it to her Husband, meaning to perswade him to rejoyce at it with her: But the Ambassador, though he had always been a Man more inclin'd to the Sword than the Court, was yet cunning, and advis'd her always to suspect so excessive Civility. He told her, it was not natural for the King of
Spain
's
Wife,
to be so early in a good Correspondence with the Ambassador of
France
's Lady, that it look'd like a Trick among those who knew better than to judge of things by appearance. And therefore all he recommended to her, was to be prudent, that she ought to hear the
Queen
speak, rather than speak her self, and by these means she would certainly advance her Affairs much better than by endeavouring to be the Head of the Conversation.
While these
Intrigues
proceeded after this manner, the Princess of
Conti,
the King's Daughter, had some thoughts of marrying Mademoiselle
de Melan,
eldest Daughter to the Princess of
Epinoi,
to the Marquiss of
La Valiere,
her Cousin-German; she had a great Respect for her, and went very often to
Paris
to see her; and as for the Marquis, he was in very good terms with the
Dauphine.
She had it in her view, at the same time, to get him made
Duke
and
Peer,
by obtaining from the
King
the
Title
of his
Dutchy
of
Vaujour
to her self, in expectation of his succeeding to the Propriety of it after her Death. This Land pertain'd for a long time to the House of
Bueil,
and while it continu'd in that Family, had only the Title of Marquisate, but was erected into a Dutchy in
avour of Madam
de la Valiere,
who since made her self a
Ca
ess.
Monsieur
Colb
rt,
who had the Secret to get her into his Interest, while she was a Favourite, bought this Land for her, by which means he ingratiated himself both in the King's Favour and her's. It cost him only a hundred thousand Crowns, though there was as much Wood upon it as would answer that Money, which he sold in a short time after the Purchase. However, Mademoiselle
de Melan
flatter'd her self already with being a Dutchess very soon, which was somewhat better than the imaginary Principality her Family flatter'd themselves with, when the Princess of
Conti
came to know that his
Majesty
had no Inclination for that Marriage. This made her shift sides, and seeing the Duke of
Noailles
was in great Favour with the King, she cast her Eyes upon one of his Daughters. There was a whole Regiment of them; and though there had been three of them already married, yet there remain'd still such a number of them, that he was the Person in all the Court, the best provided with Means to make Sons-in-law; besides, they strove who should have them. For his
Majesty
had lately conferr'd a Favour upon him, that evinced sufficiently the Esteem he had for him. Madam
de M
i
n
n
had a Nicce, who was the only Daughter of the Count of
Aubig
,
her Brother, Governor of
Berry,
and
Knight
of the
King
's Order. This young Creature, who was very lovely in her Person, was much more such by the Favour and Merit of her
Aunt,
who took particular care of her Education. For she thought that her Father, who lov'd his Game and Pleasures, and by these means had ruin'd his Affairs, so that he was oblig
d to retire, in order, either to pick up what might pay his Debts, or to learn that he must die. I say, she thought that her Father was in no Capacity to do any thing for her, and therefore by her care she made her a very well-accomplish'd young Lady, and this Quality, with all the others, which she possess'd in an eminent degree, made her the desirable Object of all the
Great Men
of the Court, who had any Sons to Marry; but there were particularly two, who had a great design upon her, namely, the Duke of
Rochefoucaut,
who would have given her the Prince of
Marsillac,
his Grand-Son; the other, the Duke of
Noailles,
who had his eldest Son, the Count of
Ayen,
to Marry. Either of these seem'd very advantageous for her, though the first appear'd to be much more such than the last. For in effect, though the House of
Noailles
be very good and ancient, yet the Family of
Rochefoucaut
exceeds it; at least in the Opinion of a great many, for all who pretend to know any thing of the
Grandeur
of
Families,
make a great difference between them; besides, though the Duke of
Noailles
was Captain of the Life-Guards, a very considerable Post, the Duke of
Rochefoucaut
had two others, which were fully as considerable, and both of them carry great
Titles,
which distinguish them from many others; though in effect, that of
Great Marshal
of the Lodgings is small enough for its Grandeur. On the other hand, there are a great many larger Estates in his Family, than the Duke of
Noailles
can pretend to. The Estate of
Noailles
that lies just by
Turenne,
is nothing in comparison of
Wertheux,
and of
Rocheg
yon,
that must, of necessity, fall one day to the Prince of
Marsillac,
without reckoning a great many other Lands, which the Duke of
Rochefoucaut,
and the Duke of
Rocheguyon,
his Father, have; so that every one believ'd, that the Prince of
Marsillac
would carry the young Lady, when the King declar'd himself in favour of the Count of
Ayen.
The King himself gave her a Portion; and not thinking it sufficient to give her eight hundred thousand Livers, he also conferr'd so many Favours upon her Husband, that a great many
Princes,
and even
Princes
of the
Blood,
would have been very glad to receive 'em. He gave him the Survivance of the Government of
Roussillon,
which the Duke of
Noailles
had; that of the Government of
Berry,
which the Count of
Aubignie
had; a hundred thousand Livres in Jewels to the young Lady; and in fine, a great many other things, that show'd no less the Magnificence of the
King,
than the particular Friendship he had for their Relations. And this demonstrated how much they were in the Right, who courted the Alliance of the Duke of
Noailles.
But the King, as an additional Super-abounding Favour, gave the young Count his Shirt when he was ready to go to Bed, while the Duchess of
Burgundy
perform'd the same Office to the young Lady. One would have thought that there remain'd nothing to be done after so many Favours▪ But his Majesty, who is an inexhaustible Fountain of Goodness, gave each of them a Pension of eight thousand Livres a Years, and to compleat the Work, said,
That provided the Count were a good Man, he might assure himself, he should never want for any thing.
It being no mean thing to become a Brother-in-law to such a Gentleman as this, Madam, the Princess of
Conti,
manag'd the Match betwixt her Cosin and his Sister; she secur'd to her his Dutchy by the Contract of Marriage, and the Affair being thus concluded, the
Dauphine
conceiv'd so great a Friendship for the new married Gentleman, that he could go no where without him. He had him always by his side in his Coach, as if they had but one Coach betwixt them both, and lean'd his Head always to his, as if he had been his Mistriss, and in a sporting way call'd him
Violet,
a Name that formerly was not much coveted, being only proper for Footmen, or that sort of Cattel, but now became very fashionable amongst the Courtiers. The
Dauphine
is naturally of a sweet Temper, and an Enemy to all manner of Constraint. He is not capable of having any great Inclination for Women; and though he may have lov'd one or two of them, knowing that the fair Sex requires complaisance, he did not regard them so much upon the account of their easiness as of their Virtue.
Dumont,
one of his Masters of the Horse, who was much in his Favour, brought them always to him by Private Stairs when he wanted them, and sent them immediately back when he had done. This
Prince
chus'd them ordinarily amongst the Actresses of the Opera or Comedy, upon which there happen'd to him a very pleasant Rencounter, that deserves some place in this Work. Having caus'd
Dumont
to speak to one of the Actresses of the Opera, he agreed with her that she should come to
Meudon,
to the end he might introduce her to the
Dauphin
's Closet by the private Stairs; they condescended upon the Day and Hour. The
Actress,
though a Person void of Ceremony, thought it not very decent to go thither alone, and so brought one of her Sisters along with her. The
Dauphine
had some Person with him in his Closet when they arriv'd, which oblig'd
Dumont
to tell them to wait in a place where he posted them near the Closet; at the same time he made it known to the
Dauphine
by a sign, that his fair Lady was come, to the end he might discharge his Company. The
Dauphine
order'd him to go some where or other, and in the mean time the
Dauphine
's Company judging they where somewhat inconvenient to him, took there leave.
Dumont
having left the private Door half open, the Actress's Sister hearing no noise in the Room, had the Curiosity to look into it. The
Dauphine,
who only waited for
Dumont
's return to have her Sister introduc'd, having his Eyes fixt, by chance, that way, where the other was looking, no sooner saw a Woman's Coiffe at the Door, but taking her to be the Person he had a mind to, he desir'd her to come in. She thought it good manners to obey, though it was none of her he meant. But whether his Eyes were somewhat Dim that Day, or that he was in such haste, that he had no time to consider her aright, he gave her the same usage he design'd for her Sister. After which, having no further Inclination for the Lady's Conversation, he sent her away immediately. She told her Sister nothing of this Adventure. The Actress still waited for
Dumont,
and long'd much for his coming. In fine, he return'd by the Private Stairs, and told her he was a going to speak to the
Dauphin,
in order to bring her in. The
Dauphine
told him,
The he had had all the Conversation with her he intended, and desir'd him to give her five hundred
Louis d'ores,
and send her home. Dumont,
who had seen her very impatient to enter, knew nothing of what he meant by that, and intreated the
Dauphine
to explain himself. In fine, he came to know what pass'd, but not knowing with whom, he went and told the
Actress,
that if her Appetite was so very good, it was not the same with the
Dauphine
's. She was extreamly surpriz'd at his Complement; but understood by it, that her Sister had deceiv'd her, and was so extreamly vext at it, that she would never be reconcil'd with her, till she condescended to divide the five hundred
Louis d'ores
with her, which the
Dauphine
had sent to her.
The furious War which the
King
had maintain'd against so many Potentates, had encourag'd some of the new Converts to profess their former Religion, notwithstanding the Prohibition to the contrary. His
Majesty
caus'd to take up a great many of them in the Neighbourhood of
Orange,
as they were returning thence from Sermon. Some of them were treated very severely, while others got off for a Month or two's Imprisonment. The
King
set also Guards upon all the Avenues of that Town, to hinder them from returning thither any more. But not being intirely satisfied with this Precaution, he made very strict Edicts against all such, who should dare, in prejudice of the Prohibition, to venture to go thither again. But this was not the only disobedience that appear'd in a short space of time, for not one of them went to Mass. And his Majesty being inform'd of it from all Parts, and finding it a matter that ought to be remedied, if he meant to prevent some dangerous Accidents, deliberated with his Council, how he ought to proceed against these obstinate People. They were all at a loss how to advise him upon that occasion, insomuch, that the Affair remained undecided, and the King wrote to the most part of the
Bishops
and
Intendants,
to have their Judgment in writing: These differ'd in their Sentiments from one another. Some advis'd him to make use only of Exhortations, in order to make them Obedient; others were for a severe usage. Those, who were of this last Sentiment, were so much the more warm in it, because they imagin'd (though unjustly) that the King of
England
had us'd these means with regard to the Catholicks of
Ireland,
who not willing to submit to the present Government, were fain to look for a Sanctuary in
France,
to shelter themselves from the Punishment that was due to their Rebellion. These People of all Ages and Conditions, coming over in whole Troops to
France,
never fail'd to spread abroad, that they had been oblig'd to quit their Country in order to avoid the Violence that was done to their
Consciences.
The
King
gave them five hundred Pistols in
Charity,
which was thought but a small mite for so great a
King.
However he appointed some Ladies of the Court to raise an Offering for them amongst the Persons of
Quality.
The Curats of
Paris
follow'd that Example, and caus'd also an Offering to be made in their Parishes to supply their Necessity. But their being a great many
Monks
and
Priests
amongst these Refugees, the
Archbishop
of
Paris
would have them to say their Masses in
Nô
re Dame,
by way of Preference to all the
French Priests,
who us'd to Celebrate 'em there. He did them also particular Acts of Charity, for being extraordinary Pious, he omitted nothing that was in his Power for their Relief.
In the mean time the Earl of
Jersey,
Brother in Law to the Earl of
Portland,
was Named by the King of
England,
to succeed this last in
France:
The King had no mind to speak to my Lord
Portland,
of any thing that passed in
Ireland,
least he might thence take occasion to speak to him of the Protestants in
France.
He made him a present of his Picture, richly set with Diamonds, according to the ordinary Practice of this Court, with a regard to all Embassadours.
But there was this difference made betwixt him and others; that the Diamonds upon the Present made to him, were Three times more rich than they upon any others: The King probably meant, that his present should bear some proportion to the expences he had been at; or perhaps knowing he was in good terms with his Master, he was glad to have his favour upon occasion. Some few Days before his departure, the King made a review of his Houshold; and King
James
was there, as was also this
Lord,
who perhaps had forborn coming, if he had known that the other was to be there. The
Prince
of
Wales
came thither also, and had particular Orders from the King his Father, to joyn Conversation with that
Lord
's Son, to whom he had caused to insinuate before, that he never pretended to make him answerable for what his Master had done against him. This young Prince being only a Child, was hardly capable of such an Entertainment, but he had placed such Persons about him, as were able to inform him, and even continue the Discourse if necessary: I do not know what he meant by it: However my Lord
Portland
knowing the young Princes design, sent to tell his Son to avoid him, and himself shun'd all those of King
James
's Court. The review being over, he left
France
in a few Days after, leaving a great esteem for him amongst all the Courtiers. However before he went, he was to see all the King's Houses in the Neighbourhood of
Paris,
and found them of a far different magnificence from his Majesty's Houses in
Holland
and
England.
He went to
Chantilly
in his roade, whither the
Prince
of
Conde
went a purpose to entertain him; and thus here turned home, extreamly satisfied with the Honour done him every where, and gave an Account to his Master of all that passed in his Embassie. This Prince was not ill pleas'd, at the News of the King of
Spain
's sickness; for it being upon that account that
France
continued still Arm'd, he likewise kept up his Troops, so as that the
English
could not find fault with it: He knew his
Greatness
and
Safety,
consisted in the Number of his Troops; and having Enemies both within and without his Kingdom, there was nothing more capable to gain him respect, than to have always a good Army at his Command.
This Prince having made it to appear upon all occasions, that he had an infinite deal of Sense, was not in the least mistaken upon this occasion: For finding it his interest upon two Accounts, to keep
France
continually in Arms; both as it was a means to exhaust his Forces; and as it wou'd prove always a good pretence for him to keep up his own Army: He advis'd to have it ratified at the
Dyet of Ratisbon,
that the Princes of the
Empire,
should always keep up a Hundred and Twenty Thousand Men in Arms, in the time of Peace; for he was sensible, the more they had, the more
France
wou'd be obliged to have on that side. And there being but a small distance betwixt
England
and
France;
he wou'd by those means be always upon his Guard. It was also believed, that in Policy he asked of the King, to remove
King James and his Wife
at a distance from him, though he doubted the King would never consent to it. But it would be such a pretence for him to show the
Parliament,
that having a considerable Enemy so nigh him; prudence would oblige him to keep himself always in a condition to resist him in case of necessity.
But whether he meant to enlarge upon that, or that in effect,
King James
who had attempted several times to remount his
Throne,
by fomenting insurrections in
England,
began to attempt the same again, or whatever else was in it, he caus'd a great many Persons to be taken up; and among others the Earl of
Clancarty,
as if he had meant to raise new troubles. The Earl had been Captain of the Guards to
King James,
and had passed once more before into that Country, in Order to do him Service. But he had no such design at this time; He had only went thither under the benefit of the Peace, though the New King had excluded him from it, as he had done a great many others, who had continued after a certain time in the Service of his Enemy. However this Earl being a Person of quality; his Imprisonment made no little noise, for instead of sending him to the Tower, they put him up in Newgate. This was by no means disagreeable to the
King,
for the more the
Prisoner
was a Man of
quality;
the greater Impression his return into the Country, made upon the minds of the People, for they knew he was guilty the last time he came into the
Kingdom;
because he had made his Escape out of the Tower. For at that time he proposed to a
Lady
of quality, who came to see him, to allow him to make his escape under her Petticoats. This Lady being as large as he was little, condescended very willingly at the Peril of whatever could happen: For besides the apprehension she was under, of being catch'd in the Commission of a flaming Crime, and being kept Prisoner her self, she allowed his approaches to a place, with which the
Ladies
hardly suffer such near communication, at least without some scruple; whatever was in it he played his Game so well, that he made his escape without being discovered, and from that time kept always about King
James,
till the time of his being retaken, that I mentioned but now.
It was a long time before the
English
could be sensible of any pretence their King had, to keep any Troops on Foot, in the present posture of the Affairs of
Europe
in General, or of their own in Particular. On the other Hard, it was given out a pretty while before that His Christian
Majesty
was to have a Camp near
Campiegne,
where the Duke of
Burgundy
was to Command. And though it was said publickly, it was designed only to let him see something in warlike affairs, and to accustom him by degrees to such great things as were due to his Birth, yet it bred some Jealousie, so that the
English
continued still quiet. But the Natural restlessness of that
Nation,
never allows them to be long at ease: In fine, they complained that being exhausted by the War, it was impossible for them to continue the same expences in the time of Peace. The
King
of
England
thinking to satisfie them in some degree, made a reform of some Regiments, and of others, he sent some into
Holland,
and some into
Ireland,
believing that these being once out of their sight, they would be apt to forget them; but they still insisted upon their former complaints. And to speak the truth, they had good politick Reasons to do what they did, not only with regard to themselves, but also with regard to all
Europe.
In the mean time the Encampment which the King intended, was put off to
September,
to the end that the People in the Neighbourhood, might have opportunity to make their Harvest, and gather in all their Corn; so in this interval of time, there fell out some remarkable things at Court. One of the most considerable, which perhaps has no parallel in this Age, was as follows.
Monsieur de Pelletier,
who had been
Controler General
of the
Finances,
and whom the King had made an
Officer
of
State,
quitted a Hundred Thousand Livers a Year, which he possessed by the King's liberality, to be freed from all manner of business, and have time to mind his Salvation. His
Majesty
had a mind to allow him some Pension, and was so much the more earnest to do it, because he cou'd never sufficiently admire such a resolution; but after all his remonstrances, he only prevailed so far, as to oblige him to accept of Twenty Thousand Livers a Year, to maintain a Table for his Family. His place in the
Post-house,
which was valued at Two and Thirty Thousand Livers a Year, was given to
Monsieur Pomponne:
Who, however Pious he was thought to be, thought such a Post not inconsistent with his Devotion.
Monsieur Pelletier
retir'd immediately to his
Castle
of
V
lle Neuf,
within Three or Four Leagues of
Paris;
and discarded the most part of his Domesticks. His Brother who was
Intendant
of the
Finances,
being angry that he had not Named him to his Majesty for
Comptrouler General
of the
Finances,
when he quited it, was exceedingly vexed, because he had not acquainted him with his Intention, in order to fall upon measures, to make some advantage of his spoil.
Moreover he went the next Day to
Versailles,
and told the King (without waiting in the least for what his Majesty had a mind to say upon the Subject,) that though it was generally said in the World, that the
Younger
ought to follow the example of the
Elder;
yet he would take care not to imitate his Brother; that in effect he was so far from believing, that his
Majestie's
Service cou'd in the
ast hurt his Salvation, that on the contrary there was nothing more useful either for this World, or the World to come: So that his Majesty might, when he thought fit, load him with more business, without giving him the least disturbance; that he would always continue in his ordinary road, without ever thinking of shuting himself up, either in a
Cloyster, or a Country House.
He was easily believed without swearing, for every Body was sensible, how little inclination he had to quit the World. Besides, the World knew that he was not a Man, who troubled himself very much with business; he never lov'd to overcharge himself, for of whatever Consequence the Affair was, his Buildings and Garden were first look'd after: Not but that he had a great deal of Sense, and in that even exceeded his Eldest Brother; but being of their Judgment who believe, that
Charitie begins as home,
he never car'd to bely a Maxim, which
time
and
custom
had so well established in the World.
While both the Court and King admired
Monsieur Pelletiers
Conduct: There fell out an accident betwixt two Courtiers at
Marli,
that had proved of a more troublesom consequence, if it had not been moderated by the
Bystanders
The matter was this,
the Count of Auvergne
was playing at
Omber,
with some other Lords, and
Monsieur de Lausun
looki
g over them, began to utter a great many silly expressions which vex'd the
Count,
insomuch that he threw down his Cards. The Gamsters asked him what he meant; the
Count
answered, that it was impossible to play while he heard Monsieur
Lausun
's
edious Discourse, and as for him he could not have the complaisance to relish it.
Monsieur Lausun
being always sensible of the honour he had in marrying
Henry
IV. his Grandchild, and upon that Account respecting very little such digrities, which had no better Foundation, than the
Count
's, was something mov'd at these words, and m
de him a harsh answer. The Gentlemen who were present, asked them what they meant by quarrelling in that Place, and being Friends to both Parties, presently put a stop to the Quarrel.
About the same time, Two more Considerable Persons happened to quarrel; I mean the Prince of
Conti
and the Chevalier of
Vendome,
Grand
Prior
of
France.
They were also playing at
Omher,
and the Grand
Prior
having call'd
Gano,
at the third Lift, and gaining
Codille;
the Prince of
Conti,
told the Person who had made him
Gano,
that he was too simple to believe him, he being a Man that took his Advantage, where he could find it; and that he had never seen him play, after any other manner. The
Grand Prior
took notice of that Word, and said it was very reproachful, under a dubious sense. The Prince of
Conti,
took no notice of what he had answered, whether he meant to shew himself somewhat wiser than the other, or that he thought the Terms he made use of, obliged him to make that Answer. But after the
Game
was ended, the Chevalier of
Vendome
went to
Paris,
and returned the next day to
Versailles,
with a long Rapier by his Side. The
Courtiers
ask'd one another, whom he had a Design upon, in carrying that Rapier. No body dreamt of what had passed the Night before, betwixt him and the Prince of
Conti;
and the rather, because there were hardly Two Persons, less capable of counteracting the King's Orders. However, the
Grand Prior
having posted himself, where the Prince was to pass along, no sooner saw him, than he drew upon him, telling him, he must needs remember, what he had said the Night before, and as these things were not to be suffered, by People of their Circumstances, so he had a mind to see him with Sword in hand. The
Grand Prior
meant by these Words, to put himself in Competition with him, which displeased the Prince exceedingly, insomuch, that he told him, he had forgot himself, to speak to him after that manner. The Duke of
Bourbon,
was coming along in the mean time, and the Prince of
Conti
calling him, told him that he was equally concerned with him in the Affair, the Chevalier having said, that there was no difference, betwixt him and the Princes of the
Blood,
so he desired to know his Opinion of it, and if he thought fit to suffer it. The Duke acquainted the Dauphin with it, and the Dauphin immediately informed the King. Upon which his Majesty gave Orders to
Mr. Pontchartrain,
to send the
Grand Prior
to the
Bastille
The
Grand Prior
desired to be admitted to the King, to acquaint him, with his Reasons, but his Majesty had no mind to hear him; and ordered his
Ʋ shers
to shut the Chamber Door against him, insomuch that this Prince, was at last obliged to obey, and went of his own accord to Prison.
At that time, there was no Governour of the
Bastille;
for
Mr. de Besma
x,
who had been Governour Forty Years at least, was dead Six or Seven Months; and his Majesty had not yet nam'd any for that Government: Not but that there were Persons enough who sollicited for it, for the vast Riches which the late Governour had made by it, was a sufficient Motive for a great many. The Governour of
Pigner
l,
being at that time without Employ, that Place being given up by the Peace, sollicited earnestly for it. He had also a great many Competitors; for even the Duke of
M
ine
had a mind to it: For that Castle, being joined to the
Arsenal,
he would have been very glad to unite the
Ch
rge
of it, to that of Great
Master
of the
Artillery,
as it was in the time of the Duke of
S
liy.
The
Marquis
of
Sanveri, Ʋ nder Governour
of the
young Princes
and the late
Governour
s Son in Law, had also an Eye upon it, but upon Condition that he should not be obliged to reside there, and might have a fixt
Sallary,
as other Governments had. But this was quite contrary to his
Father in law
his Practice, who always thought the Advantage he made by the Prisoners, more preferable a Thousand times, than what the King had given other Governours. But whether his Son in Law considered that these Profits were much sunk by the Peace, or that
to keep also the Post he was in, he insisted
the same thing. The King had a great Inclination
him, but was desirous to have the
reside ther
: So the Gentleman dropt his Pretensions, as soon as he knew his Majesty's Intention.
M
.
Captain of the Guards, put also in fo
without doubt had carried it, had it depended
the Prisoners to chuse a Governour for themselves. He was in effect, of a more generous Family
the Gentleman who possessed it last; nor did
degenerate from the Virtue of his
, he was Nephew to
Mr. de Pontchar
in sufficient Circumstances to relieve th
ffect, was very charitable, ever since
ed into the
Ministry.
This Minister
, that it was very proper for his Nephew,
ho was very sickly, and upon that account ready to lay down his Charge, not being capable to serve the Two
ast Campaigns, and therefore he supported his Pretentions. But
Mr. Barbesieux,
proposed to the
King, Mr. de Cinqmars,
Governour of the
Islands
of St.
Honorat
and St.
Marguerite,
and his
Majesty
seeming to have some inclination for him, desired
Barbesieux
to write to him, that he might have that Government instead of his own, if he inclined to change.
St. Mars
was very old, and having passed his younger Days, in the Service of the Prince of
Conde,
he had made a prodigious Fortune; for he was chosen by the King, to guard Mr.
Fonq
et
and
Mr. Lansun;
so that by these means, he was become extreamly rich, and besides he was far from being covetous, as
Mr. Besmaux
was: Upon that account, he return'd answer to the
Marquis
of
Barbesieux,
that he had no Inclination to change, if his Majesty pleased to continue him where he was. But this
Minister
being very desirous to have that Government in the Hands of a Person devoted to his Family, as Mr.
St. Mars
ought to be, because he was obliged to his Father for his Fortune, had no mind to be satisfied with this Answer, but wrote again to him upon the same Subject, setting forth that he neglected his own good Fortune; and besides, might have the Advantage to be near his Family, which he ought to regard as a singular Happiness, having been absent from it for many Years. Mr.
St. Mars
was born in the Neighbourhood of
Paris,
moreover, he was married to Madam
Frenoy
's Sister, which had contributed above all to his Establishment. This was therefore the way to attack him, upon his weak side. However it be, he took this Letter to be a kind of Command; and therefore made Answer, that he would obey it. As soon as
Mr. Saumery
knew this, he ask'd that Government of the King, which his Majesty granted to him; but in a few days after, he broke a Company that had been raised on purpose, for Mr.
Cinqmars,
when he guarded Mr.
Fouquet;
and which he had ever since along with him in the
Islands
of St.
Honorat
and St.
Marguerite.
The Captain had a Sallary of Two Thousand Crowns, besides his Profits; so that Mr.
Saumery
lost all on a sudden, the half of the Gratification he thought to receive. In the mean time the Chevalier of
Vendome
was come to the
Bastille,
whither very few Lords went to see him, for fear of displeasing his Majesty, who had so resented his Conduct. Some were also unwilling to go, fearing the Prince of
Conti
's Displeasure, and in effect, the Prince checked Mr.
d' Alegre,
for having gone thither. Mr.
d' Alegre
answered, that he did not believe that his Highnes would have took it ill, but since he knew his mind, he would for the future avoid displeasing him. The Prince accepted of his Excuse, and the Marshals of
Catinat
and
Tourville,
having also gone thither, they thought to make the same Apology, but the Prince saying nothing to them, it passed over in silence.
The
Duke
of
Vendome
was at
Anet,
when his Brother was commanded to Prison, but as soon as he heard it, he took Post to be inform'd by him of the Affair, and after he had learn'd it, he thought the best way to obtain his Freedom was, by the Interest of the same Person, who had got him confin'd: he therefore went immediately to wait upon the Prince of
Conti
to that purpose. And this being all the Satisfaction the Prince demanded, he went himself to the
King,
to ask the
Grand Prior
's Liberty. The King made him answer, that if he was satisfied, yet himself was not; so that Eight or Ten Days were gone, before his Majesty would pardon that Prince. At last, his Majesty was prevailed upon, by the Solicitations of the Prince of
Conti,
and the Duke of
Vendome.
The Duke himself carried the Order for his Liberty, and brought him along with him to a certain Place, where Four or Five Persons were drunk, in solemnizing their Joy for the
Grand Prior
's Liberty.
In the mean time, the
Marquis
and
Marchionesse
of
Mont
hevreuil,
sent also one of their Sons into that Prison, not because he intended to fight, like the
Grand Prior,
but rather upon the account of a Report was spread abroad of his being married at
Rochelle,
whither they had sent to apprehend him. They resolved to send him to the
American
Islands, in order to make him forget his Amours. The King was preparing a Fleet to be sent into these Countries: and
de Gennes
Captain of a Man of War, a man very well known amongst the Sea Officers, was to command it. It was thought, the
Court
designed to seize an Island in those Parts, the Inhabitants of which had driven the
Spaniards
from the greatest Part of it, insomuch that they were forced to retire to a small Corner of it. It was thither that the Father and Mother intended to send their Son, in order to do Pennance for his too warm Amours, as if Love had been a Capital Crime. But this Fleet giving some Occasion of Jealousie to the
English
and
Hollanders,
his Majesty was fain to desist; though it was already pretty well advanced. And that excused the Ch
valier of
Moutcheuruil
from the Voyage, who was made Lieutenant of a Ship, and doubtless had quickly been made Captain, if his Prudence had been equal to his Courage. But he made a very insolent Answer to
Monsieur de Maurepas,
when he ask'd him concerning some things he was accus'd of having taken out of one of the Ships, which the
Marquis
of
Nesmond,
had taken. So that his Relations did not judge it convenient to continue him any longer in the
Sea Service,
for having once failed in his Respect to Mr.
de Maurepas,
there was no Probability, that he would ever pardon him.
The Duke of
Rochefoucaut,
after the Marriage of the
Count
of
Ayen,
had not only reformed his Table and Reti
ue, that were both very magnificent, but under some special Pretext, retired to
Liancourt,
a Place belonging to one of his Sons, at Ten or Twelve Leagues distance from
Paris.
However having staid 6weeks there, he return'd to Court. The King suspected that he was somewhat out of humour at the Match. He had Experience enough to know, that his Favours conferred to the Pre
udice of another, gave as much Jealousie, as a Mistriss's Favour to the Prejudice of a Rival, yet he took no notice of it to him, but he loved his Person, and received him as affectionately, as he had used to do. In the mean time, the Duke of
Lerraine
sent
Monsieur de Couvonges
to
Versailles,
to demand in his Name,
Mademoi
elle
in Marriage. The King expected always, both before the Peace, and since it was made, that this Princess, should have no other Husband but the King of the
Romans.
Nor was there any Princess in
Europe,
had more Pretentions to that Happiness, than She. But the Empress had so very little Inclination for
France,
that tho'
Madamoiselle
had been the King's own Daughter, instead of being the Duke of
Orleans
's, she would have preferred the meanest
Princess
in
Germany
to her. But the Queen of
Poland,
the Duke of
Lorrain
's Mother, when she perceived the Design of the
French,
was extreamly vexed at it, in regard of her Son's Interest. For being a Princess of extraordinary wit, she knew that the situation of that young
Prince's
Estate would oblige him to prefer an Alliance with
France
to any other, and therefore she thought of making
Mademoiselle
her Daughter in
Law.
However she was willing to have the Emperour's consent to it, who insinuated often to her that he would gladly bestow the
Archduchesse
his eldest Daughter upon the
Duke;
but the Emperour was prevail'd upon by her Reasons; and the
King
accepted of
Monsieur de Couvonges's
offer in the Name of his Master, having named
Mr. P
ntchartrain
and some other considerable Persons of his Council todraw up the Articles of Marriage; which both Parties soon agreed upon. However there arose a difficulty that retarded the Affair for some time, for the
Duke of Orleans
had no other male Children, than the
Duke of Chartres,
and that Duke had only Daughters: This they had not foreseen in the beginning, but the
Court
thought fit to find some expedient for it, before they wou'd proceed any further. The difficulty consisted mainly in this point; that if the
Duke of Chartres
came to die without Male Issue, then
Mademoiselle
might have right to divide the succession of the
Dutchess
her Mother, with her Brothers Daughters. Moreover, that succession was very considerable; for besides ready Mony, Plate and Jewels, and a vast quantity of Furniture, which she had already inherited by the Death of her Brother, the
Elector Palatin,
they had also adjudg'd to her Two Hundred Thousand Livers of Rent, until they had regulated the share she ought to have in the Succession of that
Elector.
But they would have
Mademoiselle
renounce her Succession, in case her Brother came to die without Male Issue; which
Monsieur de Couvonges
had no mind to do without express Orders. The
Duke of Lorraine's Council
found that Clause too severe. However this Prince being still very young, and of a very exemplary piety, in which he resembled his Mother very much, who died soon after the Marriage had been resolved upon; he thought that upon all Accounts it was his advantage (as indeed it was) to have a
Princess
of
France
for a Wife, and therefore Sacrificed all other considerations to that policy; and consented to renounce all he could pretend to by the Dutchesses Succession, in case the
Duke of Chartres
dyed without Heirs, upon condition of having Four Hundred Thousand Livers pay'd to him.
In this manner the marriage of the
Duke
with
Mademoiselle
was agreed upon, and they delay'd only the final conclusion of it, till the end of the Camp, that was to be made in Honour of the
Duke of Burgundy.
They brought thither a great many more Troops, than they had at first thought upon, which created some mistrust in the Neighbouring
Potentates:
They were sensible, that the King had filed off a great many Troops to the Frontiers of
Spain,
nor were they ignorant of what was commonly reported of his
Catholick Majestie
's health, and therefore were affraid that this Camp and all these Troops were designed to make a sudden irruption into his Territories, if by chance he came to die, which in effect appeared very probable by all the accounts we
ad of him. However the King had at last evacu
ted all the places he was to give up by the
Yreaty
of
Ryswick:
And as it must needs take up a great deal of time to retake them; the
Spaniards
and their
Allies
had always this comfort, that they could dispute every Inch of Ground, if they came to be attack'd. The
King
named
Mareshal de Boufflers,
to command this Camp under the
Duke of Burgund.
And as the King was very sensible, that he was a Person very apt to ruin himself, in order to maintain the Dignity which the King confer'd upon him, as preferable to all others; his Majesty made him a present of Fifty Thousand Crowns, before he marched, though the Camp was to continue only Th
e
W
ks, so that this Sum appeared pretty rea
onable for so short a time: But this
Mareshal,
who affected always to be expensive, and even in his first employments, would fain appear somewhat like
Turenne,
in regarding nothing but his Glory, and having no manner of value for Mony, made such a prodigious expence in that
Camp,
that twice so large a Sum hardly excused him. He had Five Tables Morning and Evening, all equally served; the most rare and nice things in the Kingdom were there in abundance, nor was there ever seen better or more delicate Chear. He had above a Hundred head Cooks, besides those who serv'd under them, and those who wrought in the Morning, took their Rest in the Afternoon; he had an infinite Number of Carriages in the Field, to bring his Provisions: He had two Carriages for Ice only, which was brought from
Paris
every Day, and had fresh Horses laid always half way for them, because it was impossible for the same Horses to bring it all the way, without bursting, and all his other Carriages he had in the Field, were served after the same manner; He had
ourveyors not only at
Paris,
but also in all the great Towns within Twenty, or Five and Twenty Leagues of the Camp, every Table had two Stewar
s, and the chief Overseer of his Officers, was a Person who had served formerly the
Archbishop
of
Paris;
for he was perhaps the only Man in the Nation, who understood these Affairs best, being always obeyed at first Word, so that all was done with such an extraordinary sumptuous splendour, that it is impossible to describe it right.
This Camp ruin'd the Officers intirely, who had suffered extreamly before, by the expences they were oblieged to be at, during the War. However, not one of them minded any thing, but how to please the King, neither more nor less, than if he had been a Deity; there was never any thing to be seen so splendid and magnificent, as all
Officers, from the highest to the lowest. All the Troops and Foot Souldiers were new Cloathed, and that cost some Regiments above Five and Twenty Thousand Crowns. But while they impoverished themselves,
Paris
was enrich'd by it, for
Twenty Days before the Camp was form'd, there was nothing to be seen at the Merchants Doors, but large Bales, which were carried away every moment. It is altogether impossible to tell how much Provisions were carried from that
to that Camp, and in all probability it had been sufficient to have starved the City, if the Merchants had not been very provident before Hand; and as Strangers are always curious, there was not hardly one of them who went not to see the Camp, opportunities of that Nature falling out but very seldom; so that prope
ly speaking, it was only one continued
Procession
from
Paris
to
Compiegne,
where it was impossible to find Lodging for Mony, and all
Inn-keepers
were expresly forbid to receive any body, whether they meant to save their Lodgings for the People of the Court, or that they had no mind to
that Town with a number of unknown People, and by that means prevent all dangerous accidents.
the
the Camp was to continue, being quite
, the King returned to
Versailles
with all the Court, having first bestowed considerable Largesses upon all the Troops. The great Magnificence that appeared here, undeceived the Strangers of the Opinion, they had brought with them from their own Country; to wit, that
France
had been exhausted both of Men and Mony. They had already seen the contrary at the
Duke of Burgundy
's Marriage, by the great confluence of People they found at
Paris.
But what they had seen upon this occasion, having quite disabused them, they began to look upon the King as another
Croesus,
whose Riches were inexhaustible.
But, if this Prince was so Rich, as there was no reason to doubt of it, his People were in extream Poverty, insomuch, that they wanted a great many things to supply their Necessities. But as soon as the King had made the Peace, he thought of contributing to their ease. He made divers Edicts in favour of the Country People, whose Lands were altogether waste for want of means to cultivate 'em. He also provided, by an Act of Council, that there shou'd be no order to sell the Lands of those who carried Arms the preceeding Years. He allow'd them some time for the payment of their Debts: But all this being only Paper, 'twas impossible for any body to relieve their Necessity without Money. And a great many People thought, that it had been of far greater advantage to the Kingdom, if His Majesty, instead of spending his Money so lavishly upon that Camp, had delt it amongst his People, in order to buy them Cattle: All the Country was quite out of Cattel, and by lending the People some Money, whereby they might furnish themselves with some, he had restor'd a great many to Life, who were ready to Perish upon the want they had suffer'd for a long time. Not but that the King had reliev'd his People in some manner, in taking off the Capitation. He had also sunk a great many other Taxes which were rais'd during the War. But the Subsidies were agumented by a third; besides, the Corn that had continued dear for a long time, became daily dearer, which occasioned new Desolation in a great many Families. And the poor Gentry was most of all to be pitied, especially those who had Children; for after the Peace they knew not how to bestow them because by the reform which was made of the Troops, they sent home all the Lieutenants as useless Members. Nor did they continue the Pay of a reform to any, but to Captains and Lieutenants, who had serv'd at least Ten Years; insomuch, that those, who serv'd under that Time, were in the most deplorable Condition imaginable.
The Marquis of
Dangeau,
great Master of the Order of St.
Lazarus,
made, at that time, an Establishment, that evinc'd sufficiently how much Good he would have done, if it had been in his Power. He had establish'd
Companies
of
Cadets,
that had been very useful for poor Gentlemen, as well as for those they received amongst them: For tho' these
Companies
had been instituted, in all appearance, only in consideration of them, yet, of late, they have received all sorts of People, even such p
rsons as cou'd have no other Communication with them, but with regard to the Liveries they had carried formerly. In effect, you might have seen Foot-Boys amongst them, and many others, who were so far from being the Children of Fathers who liv'd Nobly, who only ought to be admitted there, that they were only of the
um of the People: But it was not with regard to that alone, that Affairs took another turn some while ago in the Kingdom. The World was asto
h'd to
that the same
Nobility,
who were formerly reputed the support of the
State,
was now
in
o so great Contempt under the Ministry of the Ma
quis of
Louvois,
that very odious Li
s were p
sted up against them. They were
with the greatest indignity imaginable,
, forsooth, that one Man who had
Nobility of
Anjou
(tho' he was rather
up his Liquor than to command them)
himself to be surprized. And thus made them answerable for his Fault, insomuch,
there was nothing to be seen but Libels posted up in every Corner against them, as if the Ig
r
n
of one Commander was sufficent to make as many Criminals as there were Gentlemen; and ever since they were oblig'd to mix-themselves amongst the Burgesses to go upon the
Arier Ban:
And, besides serving upon their own Expences, according to the ordinary Custom, they had the additional mortification to serve amongst a
Scum
that was unworthy to have any room in their Company. However, the Marquis of
Dangeau
who had not always been very rich, and consequently knew what satisfaction 'twas for a Man of Quality, who was not in circumstances to educate his Children according to their ranks, to have them otherwise provided for, resolv'd to establish a fond out of a certain share of the Revenues of the Grand-Mastership, for the Education of some Children of Quality. He propos'd the Thing to the King, and His Majesty left the disposal of it to his own choice; upon which, he took eight Children out of the principal Families of the Kingdom,
viz.
of the House of
Montmorency,
of the House of
Crequi,
of the House of
Ailly,
of
Maille,
&c. He hir'd a House for them near
Charonne,
and gave them Masters of all sorts with Boys to serve them. The Abbot of
Dangeau,
his Brother, being willing to contribute to so excellent an Institution, took upon himself the charge of overseeing them. There was non more capable of the Employ, he being very learned; and it was long of himself that the King had not conferr'd a
Bishoprick,
and considerable Abbeys upon him; but His Majesty knowing he lov'd his pleasure too much, he thought it sufficient to secure him from Starving.
About that time the Duke of
Chaulnes
fell Sick, and languish'd some time before he Died. He possess'd a great many considerable Employments both within and without the Kingdom; and by these means, made himself both Friends and Enemies. A certain Gentleman who had always appeared to be of the number of the last, thought it now his Duty to endeavour a reconciliation with him before he expir'd. I mean the Cardinal
D'Estrees,
who was at
Rome
while the Duke was
Ambassador Extraordinary,
at that Court, from the King. The Cardinal was reputed a Man of Parts, and, upon that account, was ambitious to have the preference over all, which was the cause of their difference. But the Respect shown to the Duke, at the Court of
Rome,
gave him some Ombrage: So that their misunderstanding was no secret any any where; and no consideration oblig'd the Cardinal to observe any measures in it. However, whether he thought himself in the wrong, or that he had a mind to appear a good Christian, he came at that time to ask his Pardon. The Duke was extreamly surpriz'd when they told him the Cardinal was come to wait on him; it was no more seasonable for him to think upon any Resentment, tho', perhaps, he had been very capable of it at another time; therefore he desir'd he might come in, and there they were reconcil'd to one another. In a few days after the Duke Died, and left the Chancellor his Testamentary Executor. The D
ceas'd had Married the Widow of the Marquis of St.
Maigrin,
Lieutenant of the Light-Horse. They had been Married a long time without having any Issue; so that in order to make his
urt the better to Monsieur
Colbert,
when he Married his Eldest Daughter to the Duke of
Che
,
his Cousin
German,
he instituted the
shou'd be begotten of that Marriage, for
s Her. He only reserv'd for himself the
undred thousand Livers, of which he l
t twenty thousand Crowns to the Chancell
, and the rest to some of his Domesticks. At the time o
his Death he was Governor of
:
He had formerly been Governor of
Brittany;
But this last government was thought very proper for the Count of
Thoulouse,
the King's Natural Son; therefore His Majesty got him to resign it in his favour; and the King gave him
that
of
Guyenne
in exchange.
The Government of
Guyenne
was not long vacant after his Death, which fell out very conveniently for the Duke of
Chartres,
to whom the King had promis'd it, when that Duke Married the Count of
Thoulouse
's Sister. The King had given the survivance of it to the Duke of
Chevreuse;
but that Duke had already a hundred Thousand Livers in Rent; and, besides, the Duke of
Chaulnes
his Lands produc'd no less; so, that all of a sudden two hundred Thousand Livers a Year fell into the Family. So that he was already become so Rich, that
that
Government wou'd prove rather superfluous than useful to him. But Quietist as he was, he lov'd Riches nothing the less. However, I believe, they did wrong him in Reputing him a Sect
rian. At last he made so much Interest to have the Survivance of that Government, that it was easie to perceive
Molinos
's suspected Disciples are not indifferent of Matters. Yet, be how it will, the Archbishop of
Cambray
was nothing like him: He suffer'd his Exile very peaceably; and, without making the least noise, bore the Imprisonment of his good Friend Madam
Guyon.
She was brought from the Convent about
Easter
time, in order to be sent to the
Bastille,
where she was left for four or five Months to examine her Conscience, and then she was interrogated, tho' 'tis impossible to know upon what; for that sort of things are always very secret: But, according to what one can judge, it was upon some things contain'd in a Book Publish'd by the Archbishop of
Meaux
against the Archbishop of
Cambray,
in which she was made mention of. That Book contain'd very extraodinary matters against her. It charg'd her with a great many Revelations and Miracles; in a word, it endeavour'd, by rendring her ridiculous, to make the Blow fall upon the Archbishop of
Cambray,
her good Friend. However, the Bishop of
Meaux
his principal Adversary, could not obtain his being declar'd a
Heretick,
pursuant to his Allegations. The Court of
Rome,
whose business 'tis to give Sentence upon that Head, was very reserv'd upon the Point; whether it was that they saw no occasion for such a Declaration, or that by drilling on the Affair, they thought to appear more mysterious. The Court espous'd the Bishop of
Meaux
's Interest very much; and after having remov'd the Archbishop of
Cambray
from the Duke of
Burgundy
's Presence, did likewise remove his Nephew, that Prince's Sub-preceptor, together with some other Persons who were suspected of adhering to his Sentiments. Two of his waiting Gentlemen were among the number of those who were disgraced, tho' the occasion of it might seem foreign enough to their Profession. In fine, to cut off all hopes of ever returning to be about his Person, others were put in their places, who, perhaps, are no better Men than they: For we must know, that those who were remov'd, were Persons of exemplary Piety; insomuch, that all the Kingdom over there were none to be found that liv'd a more Christian Life. However, their Enemies employ'd all their art to ruin them, whether it was that they really thought them tainted with that Doctrine, or that they only cover'd their private views with that Pretence: So it was; that new Faces started up all of a sudden about the Young Prince. This was not at all agreeable to the Prince, at least it seemed so. The Bishop of
Cambray,
who wrote from time to time to the Pope, according as the divers Charges were laid against him, having, at that time, sent His Holiness a Letter which was mightily cried up; the young Prince declar'd openly, that he would be glad to see it. But, besides that there were but very few Copies of it to be seen in the Kingdom, grievous Punishments being inflicted upon those who dispersed them, no-body durst offer to satisfie his Desire for fear of displeasing the King. From thence the A. B. of
Cambray
's Friends took occasion to censure his Enemies. They Publish'd that it was always allowable for any Man to make his Defences, and their offering in this manner to hinder them, spoke their unjustice. The vulgar People, who commonly take upon them to decide every thing, tho' without forming any Judgment of the Affair, presently applauded these Complaints, without considering that in Religious Matters, there are some things better conceal'd than known, that Heresies are sooner propagated by Reading than by Conversation; so that all Writings tho' never so little suspected, cannot be too cautiously prohibited. But notwithstanding all the prohibitions against the bringing in of these Letters, two Bags were brought, not only into the Kingdom, but even into the Gates of
Paris.
Monsieur
D'Argenson
smelt the Matter, and understood that they were brought into Town in Coaches: And, in effect, two Hackney-Coaches were sent to take them up at the Houses where they were Lodg'd, without knowing what they were. But before they enter'd the Town, care was taken to examin them; and as soon as Monsieur
D'Argenson
found what they were, he Burnt them one after another in his Closet. But, after all, such was the Curiosity of some, That, tho' every one detested Quietism, as it was represented by the Bishop of
Cambray
's Enemies; yet, all that cou'd escape that Marshal's View, were sold at four
Louis d'Ors
the Piece.
The Duke
D'Estrees,
Governor of the Isle of
France,
follow'd Monsieur
D'Chaulnes
very speedily, tho' there was a great deal of difference between their Ages; the one being but fifty Years Old, and the other Seventy. The D. of
D' Estrees
Died after being cut of the Stone; and the fault was not so much laid upon the Chirurgeon, as upon an Accident that he cou'd not fore-see. He had delay'd the performing of the Operation till the great heat was over: But the heat returning unexpectedly with much Thunder, his Wound, which had formerly been in a good Condition, gave over Suppurating, and so he tip'd off in a minute. He left the Affairs of his Family in great Disorder. His Son had Married, for his first Wife, the Daughter of Monsieur
de Lionne,
Secretary of State, by whom he had a Son, and some Daughters; and for his second, a Daughter of the Marquis
de Vaubrun,
Lieutenant of the King's Armies. This last did not know where to recover her
Dowry,
and, by consequence, had been at a loss where to secure her
Joynture,
if the Bishop of
Laon
her Husband's Brother, had not engag'd in the Contract of Marriage, for two hundred thousand Livers to the Children that he shou'd have by her. The King, to whom the Duke had recommended his Family before he was cut, gave his Government to his Eldest Son; the other depended solely upon his Succession to his Mother, who cou'd not but be very Rich, tho she had lost something by her Husband: For her Mother was still alive as well as her Mother's Father, who was worth two Millions of Money. Now, he having only two Heiresses, namely, the Marchioness of
Ma
levrier
and her self; the half of it was one day to be he
s. It is true, the Dutchess had a Brother, who pursuant to the preference of Males, was intitled to the better half of the Succession; but
e being set apart for the Church, by reason of his D
cripitness and being already possess'd of Benefices, s
reckon'd that he ought never to Marry. And i
, there was no great appearance or it, tho' we every day meet with things more extraordinary than that. But the Thing that troubled her most was, That he lov'd Mony; so that tho he did not Marry, it was to be fear'd he might not grant her his share of his Grandfather's Estate. He had but lately given a signal instance of his Love for Money, by maintaining a Law-Suit for a small Living, that he had procur'd from him, whose natural right it was to grant it. The Dean of
Nants
possess'd it formerly; and he having resign'd it to one of his Friends, Abbot
Vaubrun
pretended, that his Resignation cou'd not be vali'd; for that he had not liv'd upon it a competent space of time, for being admitted in the Court of
Rome.
However, the contrary seem'd to appear, by the Will of the Deceased; but he affirm'd that to be a Fraud, and said, that the Cura
e was Cheated. In the mean time he had a Permission to raise monitory Letters, in order to find a Discovery by those that had assisted to keep the Body a long time after his Death, that they might favour his Party. However, fearing lest those who were concern'd might be pretty nimble, he obtain'd a Decree in Justice, that the Body should be uninterr'd, pretending, that by viewing it, it were easie to discover the Cheat. The Judges granted him his Demand, and so the poor Body was pull'd out of the Coffin half Rotten: In fine, tho' it cast a very nauseous Smell, so that it was impossible to approach it by a hundred paces, yet he caus'd it to be view'd by the Physicians and Chirurgeons, in order to have their Opinion of it. He put 'em upon an odd sort of Business; but thinking they were very well accustom'd to these sort of Perfumes, he did not regard it so much. The Physicians and Chirurgeons turn'd over and over the Dead Body, and having given a doubtful account of it, it was inter'd again in a more stinking Condition than it had been when it was taken up. The Abbot
Vaubrun,
seeing, that by their Judgment he was like to be Cast, and condemned to pay the Charges, obtain'd another Judgment that the same Body might be view'd by other more skilful Persons: And thus it was taken up a second time; and these skilful Gentlemen having been more favourable to him than the former, he, in the end, gain'd the Suit.
In the mean time the Abbot of
Rochefoucaut
coming to die, the Abbot
Verthuel
his Brother, ask'd two good Abbies which he had possessed; but His Majesty refus'd him. However, having always a great esteem for the Duke of
Rochefoucaut,
Brother to the two Abbots, though he had absented from coming to Court for six Weeks after the Count of
Ayen
's Marriage, he condescended to give him a Reason for that refusal; because, as His Majesty alledg'd, He had not found the Abbot
Vertheuel
's Conduct regular enough to oblige him to bestow upon him Goods of the Church, which, perhaps, he might employ to an other use than they were design'd for. His Majesty added, that to shew that he was very willing to oblige him, when it did not interfere with his Conscience, he restor'd the Abbies possessed by the Deceased, upon the Old Abbot
de la Rochefoucaut,
his Uncle. The Old Abbot dream'd nothing of such a Wind-fall. He had retir'd into his own Country a long while before, without thinking of ever returning to Court: But Fortune pursuing him as far as his Retreat, his only care then was to return Thanks to His Majesty, and to send to
Rome
for his Bulls.
The Princess of
Epinois,
and the Dutchess of
Richelieu
died soon after, the one three days after the other. The former Died in less than an Hours Sickness, the latter had been long troubled with a tedious Distemper. The Princess
d'Epinois
was walking out of the Marquis of
Barbesieux
his House, when she was seiz'd of a sudden with a violent Pain: Presently she stop'd and took hold of a Window-shutter to keep her from falling: But in that minute she lost her Senses, and being carried Home Died in the space of a Quarter of an Hour. She was one of the greatest players at
Lansquenette,
at
Marli,
and many imputed this Accident to her considerable losses, which hadmade so great an alteration in her Blood, that it had been a Miracle if some troublesome thing or other had not come upon her. Mr.
Pelletier,
Intendant of the Finances, to whom, 'tis said, she was Married in the way of Conscience, was mightily afflicted at her Death. However, that did not keep him from going to
Versailles
to Council. The first time he appear'd every body condol'd his Loss, because all the World knew how far he was concern'd; nay, the King himself knew it, and one time when the Princess had lost a great Summ at
Marli,
and pay'd it next day, to the great surprizal of a great many who thought she was not in a Condition to raise it so soon; His Majesty did not stand to ask Mr.
Pelletier
if 'twas not he that had lent it her: Upon that Mr.
Pelletier
own'd that she had
had
recourse to him to save her Honour. I know not whether His Majesty did not carry his Curiosity further, and ask'd him if he was not Married to her; That being above my Knowledge, I shall know nothing of it for fear of incurring the imputation of a Lye. That Lady had two Sons and two Daughters by her Husband. The Daughters were still Unmarried. 'Twas the Eldest of 'em that the Princess of
Conty,
the King's Daughter would have married to the Marquis
de Valliere.
As for the Sons, the Younger Died a Natural Death, and the Elder had married a Daughter of the Prince
de la Isle Bonne,
of the House of
Lorain.
The Dutchess of
Richelieu
left behind her a Son, and some Daughters. The Birth of that Son had extinguish'd all the hopes of the Marquis of
Richlieu,
the Duke's Nephew, who was intitled to the Succession, in case of no Male Issue. He being a little upon the fret, and nothing being more capable to disturb one's Conduct than Poverty, his Wife and he did not agree very well; notwithstanding he had run away with her, and she deserv'd a more honourable Usage. In fine, whether this misunderstanding increas'd every day, or that his Poverty oblig'd him to avoid the Charges that attend People of their Quality, they parted in the beginning of the Year 1698; and she went to
England
to her Mother; but it being impossible that so pretty a Creature as she, shou'd not have many Admirers; her Husband was quickly sensible, that in striving to be rid of one evil, he had brought another upon himself, that was equally unsupportable. He was seiz'd with a deep jealousie, and being, upon that score, restless both Night and Day, he set all Springs at Work to oblige his Lady to return out of that Country. She thinking she could not be better than with her Mother, would not listen to any Proposal he could make. A Wife seldom gives ear to the Voice of a Husband at a distance, especially a Husband that gives her no relief in time of need: So he was oblig'd to fall upon other measures. In the mean time, the Duke of
Orleans
's Daughter was Married to the Duke of
Lorain
by way of Proxy. The King sent the Young Princess some Presents, upon which she left the Court immediately, and after staying but 24 hours as
Paris,
set out immediately to
Bar,
pursuant to the Duke the Bridegroom's orders, who was to meet her there. The Castle of
Bar
was fitted up for her Reception. When the Duke went to his Estate, he found all his Houses out of order; for the King's Intendants, in that Country, had minded themselves more than any thing else, and had scarce taken care to make the necessary Reparations. The Duke did not go at first to
Nancy,
because the King's Troops were there demolishing the Fortifications: So he stop'd four or five Leagues on the other side of it; whither he, who Commanded the King's Troops, sent him a Captain, with some Soldiers for his Guard: But that Prince refus'd 'em, thinking it more convenient to imploy the Militia of his Country. Accordingly the Inhabitants of
Nancy,
and the other Towns, provided some Companies of Horse and Foot, till such time as his regular Troops should be in readiness, for which he had given out Commissions. In fine, the Duke came to his capital City, when the King's Troops march'd out. As soon as the Duke heard the News, that the young Princess was upon her Journey to
Lorrain,
he came to
Bar,
and, in the mean time, the Inhabitants of
Nancy,
made preparations for her Entry, in proportion to their Ability. For, besides the oppression they had lain under for the fifty or sixty Years, that their Country was cover'd with forreign Troops, they began to feel the terrible effects of a Famine, which was general, not only over that Country, but all the adjacent States; so that their Neighbours were almost in the same Condition. In some places, indeed, the Season seem'd to promise Plenty; but when they came to thresh the Corn, it did not yield the half of what it us'd to do. Nay,
France
it self, which us'd to furnish others with Corn, was first sensible of the want of it; and such Disorders happen'd upon the marching of the Troops, that the Judges of the
Police
were oblig'd to defend the Bakers with the strong hand; for the Poor People were like to fall upon 'em and Rob 'em; so great was their Misery. In the Streets of
Paris
there was nothing to be seen but Troops of Beggars, which were yet more numerous in the Country. Mr.
d' Argenson
was so watchful in the City, that they durst not harass the People there, as they did else-where: Tho', after all, some of these hungry wretches pay'd a visit to the Bakers that were coming from
Gonnesse,
and one of 'em gave a Baker a Wound with his Knife, because he would not sell his Bread at what price he pleas'd.
As every body thinks of nothing but getting, so this Dearth put a great many Usurers upon raising the price of Bread yet higher. It being reported that the Farmers General were the People that laid up Magazines of Corn, in order to make up the Loss they had sustain'd upon the Taxes for that the Wine was quite lost that Year; the first President gave 'em to know, that if it was true, they not only run the risque of being pillag'd, but ruin'd to boot; for he was a Man that would not pardon such things; and the Interest of the State and Country was sufficient to draw such Threats from him in good earnest. Tho' this was a sufficient cause of Fear to those who were conscious of their own Guilt; yet some were so covetous, that they would venture all rather than miss such an opportunity of getting Money. There was one
Miotte
that had Farm'd the Estate of
Meudon,
from the D. of
Orleans;
and, upon that score, thought himself proof against any thing that might happen: This Man bought up Corn every where, and made vast Magazines in the Castle of
Montereau Fautyonne.
Mr.
D'Argenson
and the chief President being inform'd of it, the former took him up, and the latter passed a Decree against him, insomuch, that if he had not found Friends to disswade the President from seizing upon his Person, he had gone near to have been Hang'd: But the Court it self inspected the matter, and it being try'd before the Council, he was clear'd for a Fine of 1000 Livers, and the confiscation of some part of the Corn. Some other Usurers had much the same usage; for the Judges could not deal more severely with them, without making it known that
Miotte
's Friends were the occasion of the Favour shewn him. However, Mr.
d'Argenson
concerted measures for preventing the like for the future; and sent Commissaries with Persons that he could confide in, all over the Country, for there was no doing of it without ranging the Country.
The misery of the People fill'd both
Paris
and the Country with Robbers; and the Inhabitants were scarce safe in their Houses. They durst not stir abroad, nor travel either early or late, because the poor Wretches were so desperate as to be capable of any thing; but Mr.
d'Argenson
took the Alarm upon this, as well as all other disorders; while Mr.
de la Reinie,
his Predecessor, minded nothing but the peaceable enjoyment of the Fruit of his Labours. He had but a Son and a Daughter with a vast Estate; for being all a long very cunning he had laid up an infinity of money. He was somewhat dissatisfied with his Son, who had been at
Rome
a long while, and minded nothing but the Pictures and other Curiosities of the City, without regarding his Father's Example, who had rais'd himself to the highest Post of the Law, tho' he begun with the Lowest. So that Magistrate careing only for his Daughter, resolv'd to marry her as honourable as he could. There was enough that offer'd to be Suitors; but one
Machaut,
a Master of Requests, carried his Suit so far, that, after some Dispute, Articles were mutually sign'd. After that, the Lover came to pay his Respects to his Mistress, whom he had never seen. But she being not Handsome, he lik'd her so ill, that he told her Father, That the only way to make him miserable, was to oblige him to finish what he had begun. Her Father was a little nettled at the Compliment; however he indeavoured to get off as honourably as he could. He did not ask him the cause of the Breach; but suspecting what it was, he agreed to what he desir'd, because he would not give his Daughter to a Man that did not Love her.
The D. of
Loraine
having stay'd some days at
Bar
with his Spouse, carry'd her to
Nancy,
where she met with some Magnificence, notwithstanding the publick Calamity; but being bred up at the proudest Court in the World, she minded that far less than the Love of that People for their Sovereign. They shewed it in all their Actions; and what animated 'em very much was, the exemplary Piety of that Young Prince, who, upon that score, might be call'd the Prodigy of the Age. He would see neither Play nor Opera, nor allow of 'em about his Court: He look'd upon those Diversions, not only as unworthy of a Christian, but contrary to the Duty of so Holy a Profession. He was the Son of a Father and Mother, that, in their time, were patterns of Vertue; and 'twas plain that he indeavour'd to make the best use of the Lessons they had given him. The Bishop of
Osnabrug,
the Duke's Brother, arriv'd, at that time, at the Court of
Lorrain;
upon his return from his Bishoprick which he had obtain'd about five or six months before, by the recommend
t on of the Emperour his Uncle. He is a handsome Prince, and one that knows his Perfections very well. A Brother of the Elector of
Hannover
's was formerly possess'd of that Bishoprick, which, pursuant to the Treaty of
Munster,
ought to be fill'd by a Protestant and a
Roman
Catholick, by turns.
As soon as the D. of
Lorrain
had taken Possession of his Countries, he gave advice of it to all the Princes of
Europe,
pur
uant to the usual Custom. He likewise notified his Marriage in the same manner. And in the mean time indeavour'd by his good Conduct to repair the Disorders that the War had occasion'd in so long a space of time.
In the mean time the P. of
Con
y
gain'
s Suit before the High Court of Parliament as well as before the Court of Requests. This solac'd him entirely upon the loss of the Crown
:
oland;
tho' there was a great deal of difference between the one and the other. The New K. of
Poland
did not
his Crown in Tranquillity. Some of his Subjects charging him with a great many things, were so bold as to send a fresh Message to
Versailles,
praying the King to assist 'em with Men and Money for the recovery of their Liberty, which, as they alledg'd, was overrun by his Usurpation. They accus'd him of Sacrificing the Nation to his private Interests; But His Majesty would not meddle in the matter.
The Emperor, as well as the D. of
Lo
rain,
had form'd a design to procure repose to his People, as soon as possibly he could. This he could not effect without making Peace with the
Turks,
which at last he consented to, tho' they were sensible they were upon the brink of Ruin. He accepted the Mediation of the K. of
England,
and the States General; and the
Turks
having done the same, an Interview was agreed upon at
Carlowitz,
in order to adjust the Difference between the two Emperors. In the mean time, he gave notice of all to his Allies, to the end that they having joyntly carried on so successful a War, might mutually concur in procuring a Peace equally advantageous to the one as well as to the other.
At that time the K. of
England
went to
Germany,
in order to come nearer the place where the Conferences were held. He stoped at the Court of
Hannover,
which occasion'd as much uneasiness to
France,
as
France
occasion'd to the Allies by the Camp they had form'd. In the mean time Ambassadors repair'd from all quarter to
Carlowitz.
His
Britannick
Majesty desir'd this Peace very passionately, in order to give some jealousie to
France,
and to see the Emperor's growing Power at a stand: For he wish'd rather that the Emperor should stand in need of his help, than he of the Emperor's. But the Year was over before that great Work was concluded; as well as before the K. of the
Romans
his Marriage with the Princess of
Hannover
was compleated. 'Tis true, that Marriage was concluded upon above two months before; but the young Princess being th
n in
Italy
along with her Mother, who was gone to see the Dutchess of
Modena,
her Eldest Daughter, it was put off till the beginning of the Year 1699. To conclude, 'tis not doubted, but these two things will quickly be adjusted; which Time will
ew to all who have the happiness to live so
ng.
FINIS.
AN INDEX Of the Principal Matters.
Note that this Mark (p 2) signifies that the Number immediately preceding relates to the Second Part.
A.
ABbot
of Quality, accused of Corresponding with King
William
in
Holland.
The History of this
Abbot 217 p 2
Adventures,
89, 27, p 2. 101 p 2. 341 p 2
Agnan
(the Abbot) rises from a Cordelier to a Chymist Physician
152 p 2
Agnan
(the Duke) his Character. He sets up for a Judge among the Musicians
162 p 2
Albermarle
(the Duke) promises K.
William
's Picture to Mr.
Harlai,
and sent it him
179 p 2.
He is that Prince's Favorite
239
p
2
Almoners of the Army, their Life. The History of one of them
155 p 2
Amat
(Mr.)
80 p 2
Ambassadors of
France,
Men of Military capacities
195 p 2
Ambois
(the Cardinal)
122
Angle
(the Marchioness)
118
Antin
(the Marquis) receives a Pension of
10000
Livres for a New-Years-Gift
14
Antin
(the Marquis) Brother to Mr.
de Montespan,
Kill'd in a Duel
83
Argen
on
(Mr.) His Character
62,
Three words spoken to him by the first President of the Parliament of
Paris 63.
The Sequel of his Character
99 p 2, 297 p 2,
See,
Scarcity,
and
Robbers.
Armagnac
(Madam) has her Coats pull'd up by a Footman upon her going out of the Tuilleries
164 p 2
Arnhoton
(Mr.) made Master of the Requests
36 p 2
Arpajou
(the Dutchess) displeased for not being made a Lady of Honour to the Dutchess of
Burgundy 3
Arquien
(the Marquis) Father to the Queen of
Poland 84.
His Character. He entertain'd a Wh
re that was only known by
the Name of
Louison d' Arquien 96 p 2
Affi
Besieg'd by the
French 123 p 2
Avaux
(Count de) the
French
Ambassador in
Sweden 160 p 2
Ar
iant
(the Count)
21 p 2
Au
court,
a P
cardy Gentleman, his Actions against the Family of Mr. de
Louvois,
P
rt
f
uile he had carried,
33 34,
and against the Duke of
E
euf, 37, 38.
Aumont
(
) forsakes the Jesuits and joyns in with the Priests of the Oratory
75 p 2
A
meis
(Madam)
118 p 2
Auvergne
(the Bayliff of that place) a troublesome lover
48.
He fights the Chevalier de
Kelus 49, 81.
Auvergne
(the Abbot) chosen Coadjutour of
Cluni 83
Auvergne
(the Count of that Name) gives my Lord
Portland
of his House
242 p 2.
He has a fli
ght dispute with
de
Lausun 262 p 2
A
en
(the Count) married Madam
d'Aubigne. 252 p 2
B
BAnhevilliers
(Mr.)
24 p 2 B
en
(Prince
Leuis
of
at the C
of
Poland 106
(the Marquis)
34 151, p 2,
His carriage to
35 101
Barcelona 60 p 2, 83 p 2, 91 p 2, 125 p 2, 131 p 2
Barnebite,
a
of the Convent of Montargis, a Quieti
t
63 p 2
Bart
(John) his adventure with a
of the Order of the blue Ribband
142 p 2,
he conducted the P. of
Conty
with a Squadron to
Poland. 169 p 2, 174 p 2.
he stops some Vessels
184 p 2
Bartholomew,
the particulars of the Mass
re committed on
Bartholomew's
day
55
Bartillac,
Lieutenant General of the
French
Army
17 p 2
Bastille,
the Government of it disputed for
265 p 2
Bavaria,
the Electoral Prince
197 p 2
Baville,
Intendant of
Languedock,
what was said to him at
Montpelier
concerning the Duke of
Nevers 43
Bauquemars,
two Brethren Twins, that always had the some F
rtune
69
Baumont
(the Abbot) Nephew of the Archbishop of
Cambrai,
and Subpreceptor to the Princes of
France 72 p 2
Beavuilliers
(the Duke) suspected of Quietism. His Character
126, 65 p 2
Begnon,
Intendant of
Brest 53 p 2
Believre,
the President, what was said to him
68
Bellefonds
the Marshal
4 p 2
Bellefonds
the Marchioness
ibid
Bene,
an
Irish-man,
a Sea-Lieutenant.
53 p 2
Benier,
a Man whose memory was abhorred by the People
37 p 2
Bernu,
Treasurer of the Casual Reve
ues, and very curious in his houshold Furniture
133
Berthelot
the powder man
236 p 2
Besmaux,
Governor of the Bastille
47 p 2, 264 p 2
Bethunes,
the Marchioness, Sister the Queen of
Poland 99, 94, p 2
Bielke,
the Count of that Name, Arrested
160 p 2
Bignon,
Intendant of
Picardy 62
Bignon,
Counsellor of State
64
Bignon,
first President of the great Council
66
Bignon de Blansi,
Master of the Requests
35 p 2
Biron
(Mr.) intertains Mr.
de la Force
after the massacre of
St. Bartholomew
's day
58
Blacksmith
of Salon a Ghost appears to him
146 p 2
Boufflers
(the Marshal)
2, 4, 18, 20,
His Offices
20, 123, 132 136, 166, 271,
all in
p 2
Bouillon
(the Chevalier) suspected of having
omp
n'd the Ladies
17
Bouillon
(the Cardinal)
82 84.
He befriends the A. B. of
Cambrai 71 p 2
Bordeaux,
a Family of that Name
22 p 2
Bossuet
(Abbot) sent to
Rome
against the A. B. of
Cambray 127, 71 p 2
Bourbon,
the Waters
3
Bourgundy
(Duke) is to many the Princess of
Savoy. 3.
The marr
age concluded
187
Bournouville
(the Prince) has a process against the Prince of
Epino
s 162 p 2
Brancas
(Count) Knight of honour to the Queen
44 p 2 115 p 2
Brandenburg
(Elector) lends a great deal of Money to the Elect
r of
Sa
ny 109
Briequemau
(Marquis)
53
Brionne
(Count) attach'd with a violent Appolexy, that made one of his Eyes fall down to the middle of his Face
70
B
iord
(Count) sent Ambassador to
Tuvin
Buccancers
dissatisfied with
Points 49 p 2
B
li,
Young Lady
40 p 2
Bullion,
Superintendant of the Finances, his Children
77
and
78 p 2
C
CAdets
a Company in
France,
in which we may see the very Footmen
274 p 2
Callieres
Plenipotentiary of
France 72, 74, 79, 111 p 2
Caius Garrulus,
to whom that Name was given
20
Cambray,
(A. B.) declares for the Sentiments of
Molinos 124.
Causes to Print a Book in defence of Madam
Guyen 124.
The Bishop of
Meaux,
and some other Prelates oppose him, His Character
125, 126.
Is Nam'd and consecrated Archbishop
67 p 2.
Is ordered to retire to his A. Bishoprick
70 p 2.
They endeavour in making Madam
Guyon
ridiculous to make the blow fall upon that Arch B.
278 p 2
Camp
of Campiegne, the Expences made there
270, 271 p 2
Canillac
(Marquis)
134 p 2
Carette,
Physician has but one Remedy for all sorts of Diseases
208 p 2
Cardinal Primat.
See
Poland, Saxony, and Conty
Cardinals
Nephews pay nothing for their Bulls
163 p 2
Carignan
Prince takes the right hand of the Duke of
Foix
and
Choiseul 8. 12
Carignan
(Mademoiselle) reprov'd
47
sent into a Convent
210 p 2
Cartagena 45 p 2
Cascaye,
Morquis, Ambassador of
Portugal
at
Paris,
ang'd a Gamster
14
and
15 p 2
Catinat,
Marshal, concluded a Treaty between
France
and
Savoy. 2.
He besiege
Ath 223 p 2
Ca
martin
Intendant of the Finances
65.
His Expression upon the subject of the Tax upon Lights
59 p 2
Cavois,
grand Marshal of the King's Houshold
12
and
13 p 2
Ceuta
besieg'd by the King of
Morocco 246 p 2
Chambon
a Chymist Physician
208 p 2
Chambonneau,
a Lady of that Name
48, 51.
Her banishment to
Rouan,
and her death
51
Chamilli,
Count
108 p 2
Chancellors
of
France
never go into mourning
41 p 2
Chandenier,
Marquis
92
Chapelle
(Mr.)
111
Charles II.
King of
England
his Mistresses enrich themselves upon his Spoil
113, 116.
He was not present at the Negotiation of the Py
en
es
81 p 2
Charost,
Count,
91, 65 p 2
Chateauneuf
(Marquis) Secretary of State for Religious Affairs
156 p 2 166 p 2
Chatearenau
(Madam)
79 p 2 80 p 2
Chatillon,
a Knight, at present a Marquis
114, 115, 116
Chatillon,
the Duke,
11 p 2
Chatillon Coligni,
a Family
80 19 p 2
Chaulieu,
Abbot,
208 p 2
Chaulnes,
the Duke, his Death,
275
p
2
Chemeraut 128 p 2, 129 p 2, 131 p 2
Chevreuse,
the Duke, suspected of Quietism
126, 65 p 2 277 p 2
Choisi,
the Abbot, draws up an account of the Princess of
Savoy's
yage. What was said of that performance.
6.
He
ses
50
Leuis to Madam de
Fres
,
and h
w
e p
y
her
7
Cir,
Quietism insinuates itsself into that Society
127, 71 p 2
Clancarty,
my Lord, taken up
259 p 2
Clermont de Lodeve,
the Counts of that Family lose the Title of the King's Cosins
9 p 2, 10 p 2
Cleveland,
the Dutchess, King
Charles
's Mistress
206 p 2
Cluni,
an Abby
83, 84
Coaches
more numerous
t
Paris
after the Peace by
2000, 190 p 2
Coadlet,
the Abbot, the History of him
223 p 2
Coaslin,
Abbot
113 p 2, 163 p 2
Coaslin,
Duke,
114 p 2
Coaquin,
Marquis, marries a Daughter of Marshal de
Noaillis 90, 91,
complains, that he had a Dwarf for a Wife
93, 94.
He is concern'd with the Princes of
Poland 90, 97
Colbert 118 p 2, 252 p 2
Comedians,
Italians, Their Theater shut up
121 p 2, 122 p 2
Conac,
Young Lady of that Name
111 p 2
Conde,
Prince, he Canes the Prince of
Harcourt.
The Arch-Duke
Leopold
wou'd have the right hand of him. The Author of that Prince's History censur'd
10, 11, 12.
His Revenues
101.
How he amus'd himself at
Chantilli,
and what he said of the Marquis of
R
uville 82 p 2
Conti
the late Prince
103
Conti, Francis L
uis
of
Bourbon
Prince, propos'd for the Crown of
Poland 86.
His pretentions upon the Estate of the Abbot of
Orleans 102.
Gains a process against the Dutches
of
N
mours 104.
Is in
105.
Diverts himself
10
.
Sends Money so
Poland 83
p
2.
Is very indifferent of being chosen King
84
p
2.
Is chosen
136
p
2.
Is belov'd
139
p. Goes to
Poland 174
p
2.
Puts into
Copenh
en 184
p
2.
The King returns to h
m the Money he had expended
207
p
2.
Has a difference with
he Chevalier of
Vendome 263
p
2.
Gains his process
288
p
2
Conty
(Princess) the Governor of
Limas
's Son falls in Love with her by seeing her Picture
50
p
2
Convent
at
Paris
for Debauched Women
55
p
2
Converts
(new) taken up in the Neighbourhood of
Orange 255
p
2
Coulan
es 84
Courchamp 32
Cousin
The King of
France
gives and takes away the Name sometimes
9
and
10
p
2
Courtin 78
Couture
advocate
170
p
2. 171
p
2
Couvanges
The Duke of
Lorrain
's Envoy at
Paris 268
p
2
Creci
Plenipotentiary of
France
at
Ryswick 79
Crequi
Count
Bernieule
has a difference with the Count of
Harcourt.
What pass'd at their Reconciliation.
9, 10
Crequi,
Marshal,
18
p
2
Crequi,
the Marsh, his Lady
231
p
2
Croissi 117
Cronwel 166
p
2
Cujavia
Bishop of that place
107 89
p
2.
See
Conty, Poland, Saxony
Czar
of
Muscovy
his Voyage
200
p
2
D
DAcquin
the King's first Physician banish'd the Court
79
p
2
Dangeau
(Marquis) is made Knight of Honour to the Princess of
Savoy. 4.
Makes an establishment for the Nobility
274
p
2
Dangeau
(Abbot) his Character. Why he got no Bishoprick
275
p
2
Dannemark
(King) Loves the Prince of
Conty 184
p
2
Dantzik.
The Prince of
Conty
arrives before that Town
175
p
2.
Makes reprisals upon the
French 184
p
2
Darmstad
Prince
197
p
9
Dauphin
he is good, is not much given to Women, yet has had some intrigues
253
&
254
p
2
Dax,
Bishop, was writing the History of the King of
France 81
p
2
Debauchery
prevails amongst the Ladies and Gentlemen of the Court of
France 15, 19, 25, 16
p
2
Debuc
Mademoiselle
Herbert 36
p
2
Depinot
Pontchartrain's Deputy
36
p
2
Des Chiens 37
p
2
Desgrez
one of my Lord
Portland
's Chaplains taken up
240
p
2
Destouches,
Madam Camus
14
p
2
Dislon
an
Irish
Colonel. What happen'd to him
128
p
2
Distick
against the Jesuits
164
p
2
Donsi,
Count, his Character.
42
Is sent to the Bastille. Comes out of it
45 51
Dukes
in Love with the Actresses upon the Theater
19, 23, 30.
The Dukes pretentions over the Princes
192
p
2
Damont
one of the Dauphin's masters of Horse. What Service that Prince has for him
253
p
2
Du
as,
Duke, Captain of the lifeguard. What he said of the Marshal of
Salon 153
p
2
E
EGmont,
Count,
111
p
2
Elbeuf,
Duke, his difference with
Augicourt 33
England
the King of that Country, was not present at the Negotiation of the
Pyrenean
Treaty, and why
81
p
2.
He kept Misses
206
p
2
England
the King of that Country stay'd six Years in
Ireland
for want of a fair wind
184
p
2
English
People, their Character.
260
p
2
Epinois,
Prince, commences a process against the Prince of
Bournonville 162
p
2
Epinois,
Princess her Death
282
p
2
Etrees
Count, marries Marshal
Noailles
his Daughter
95 65
Etrees
a Marshal, his Lady
111
p
2
Etrees
Cardinal
276
p
2
Etrees
Duke
279
p
2
Expences
extraordinary upon the Duke of
Burgundies
marriage
188
p
2
F
FArmer
of the Revenues restores to the King what he had robbed him of
149
Fenelon
Abbot
64
p
2.
See
Cambray.
Ferrete,
Marquis, Ambassador of
Savoy
in
France 209
p
2
Ferriere 37
p
2
Ferte,
Duke, his Witticism upon Taxing the Coats of Arms
151
Ferte,
Duchess
15
p
2
Feuillade,
Marshal, his complement to Mr.
Courchamp 32
p
2
Finances
well manag'd in
France 65
Fire,
Bon-fires for the Peace made with reluctancy in
France 181
p
2
Foix
one of the Hostages sent to the Duke of
Savoy
until the conclusion of the Duke of
Burgundy
's marriage with the Princess of
Savoy
Font Pertius
a Lady of that Name, win favour'd Monsieur
Arnolds
Sentiments
75
p
2
Foot-boy,
the Insolence of one of them
164
p
2
Force,
a Young Lady, Daughter to the Marquis of
Castlemoron 53, 54.
Genealogie of the house of
Force 54.
The Hi
tory of the first Marshal
le Force 55, 57.
Madem
selle de la
Force
is Granchild to that Marshal. Is sent by the Kings order to a Convent
59
Fouquet,
Abbot,
38
p
2
France
in the late War had five hundred Thousand Men by Sea and Land.
80.
The Poverty of the people of that Kingdom after the Peace
273
p
2
Fremont 137, 139, 144, 145, 146, 147
French-men
have always an inclination for their Country
87
p
2
Fresnoi,
Madem, gains
50
Louisdors from the Abbot of
Choisy
How she is p
y'd of them.
7.
Her Character
15
p
2.
Wife of a common Citizen's Son
27
p
2
Frette,
a Gentleman of that Name
82
Furstemberg,
Princess, caus'd to selfe the Bed and Tapistery of the Duchess of
Sully 114
p
2
G
GAnd,
Vicecount,
152
p
2
Garnier
a famous Farmer for the Revenues
43
p
2
Geniers
Knight
f S. his No
e was cut off
233
p
2
Gennez
Captain of a Ship
267
p
2
Gentry
among Citizens, what it
is
120.
'Tis condemn'd in
France 121
Gersej,
Count,
257
p
2
Ghost, Nostradamus
's Ghost
144
p
2
Girardin,
Madam,
33
p
2
Gordes,
Marquis,
115
p
2
Grammont,
Count,
40
p
2
His Character
108
p
2
Grancei,
Madam, her quarrel with the Princess of
Montauban 117
p
2
Grignan,
Countess, ill receiv'd by the Duchess of
Orleans 163
p
2
Guise 45
p
2
Guyon,
Madam, falls into Quietism
124, 126, 64
p
2.
Is sent to
Vincennes 67
p
2.
Is set at liberty
68
p
2
H
HArcourt,
Princess, obtains permission for the Duchess of
Lude
to go to
Marli
for
2000
Crowns
119
p
2.
Is suspected of Quietism, what she sayeth upon that subject
131.
Loses a suit of Law against Madam of
Nemours 43
p
2.
Her Character
44
p
2. 119
p
2.
Has a difference with the Dutchess of
Sully 192
p
2
Harcourt,
Count, has a difference with the Count of
Crequi. 9
The Prince of
Conde
Canes him.
10
One of his Mistresses shut up
26
Harcourt
Marquis
193
p
2 244
p
2
Harcourt
Marchi
ness
248
p
2
Harli,
Councellor of State Ambassador and Plenipotentiary at
Reswick 78, 11
p
2, 179
p
2 180
p
2, 181
p
2, 182
p
2, 221
p
2
Harlai,
Madam, desires to see the Prince of
Orange
King of
England 179
p
2
Harouis
Mr. and Madam
36
p
2
Harrach,
Count,
196
p
2, 246
p
2
Hilliere,
Knight, Governor of
Rocroy
his Death
17
p
2.
Owns in his Testament, that he had robb'd the King
17
p
2
History
of an Apparition to a Man of
Salon 144
p
2
Hollanders 74 79
Hypocrisy
amongst the Nobility of
France 123
Hypocrites
are the Devil's Martyrs
124.
Comply with the A. B. of
Cambray
's Doctrine
124
I
JAgellon 85
Jai
Jesuite
165
p
2
James,
King, publishes a Manifesto
151, 152.
His Allies and the Pope mock at him
152.
Will not go out of
France
after the Peace of
Reswick 152.
His Manifesto has no effect
1
p
2.
A secret Article for the Dowery of his Queen
2
p
2.
What
Talbot
says of him
26
p
2.
How he resents it
27
p
2,
Passes his time indifferently upon the Negotiation of the Peace
134
p
2.
Has more devotion than judgment
135
p
2.
Was with the Ambassador of
England
at a Review
257
p
2
James,
Prince of
Poland 87:
Is hated by the
Poles 126
p
2
Janson,
Cardinal,
83
Jesuites
their difference with the Arch-Bishops of
Rouen
and
Rheims 128.
Are reconciled with the Fathers of the Oratory.
72
p
2, 76
p
2,
Change the Name of Jesus for that of King in the College of
Lou
s le Grand. 164
p
2.
Jesuits whipp'd at
Paris
in the open Street by the Students
236
p
2
Joly
Mr. de
Fleury 136
Issi
An Assembly held there concerning
Madam
Guyon
's Affairs
94
p
2
K
KAilus
Knight
50. 81
L
LAdy
a Court one married twice, but none of her husbands enjoy'd her
30, 31
Ladies of honour mantain'd by the King at
Epionnes
house
117
Langlee,
Mr. is ve
y magnificent
97, 98
Lampoons,
scandalous, upon the Ladies of
France 17, 18
Lanthorns
a Tax upon them
59
p
2
Laparat
Ingenier what he said to Mareshal
Boufflers
after the taking of
Namur 2
p
2
Larrè,
Marquis,
26
p
2
Lausun,
Duke, is married at the Age of sixty with the Mareshal of
Lorges
his Daughter who was only sixteen
136.
His precautions in regard of his Young Wife, to whom he had given great advantages. Has a suit at Law
136, 137, 138, 142, 145.
Loses his Suit, and what follows thereupon
146, 147.
Loses above
60000
Pistols in three months
161
p
2.
What the Count of
Auvergne
says of him
262
p
2
Lesdigiuers,
Late Duke.
32
Lionne,
Abbot, sent into a Seminary
122
Lodeve,
Bishop receiv'd a blow in
Languedoc 9
p
2,
Count of
Clermont
of
Lodeve
ibid
Longueville 100
Lorges,
Marshal, See
Lausun
Lorrain,
Duke,
110
p
2,
Asks M
demoselle in marriage
268
p
2.
His marriage agreed upon, and the Conditions
270
p
2 285
p
2.
Carries his Lady to
Nancy 287
p
2
Lorrain,
Knight,
215
Lorrain,
Dutchess, Queen of
Poland,
her Character
270
p
2
Louis XIV.
corcludes a Treaty with the Duke of
Savoy. 1
Dissembles with the Duke of
Sav
y. 13
Sends the Count
deBriord
to
Turin. 13
Is very much offended at wicked Lampoons made against the Ladies of the Court,
16
He caus'd a great many Women and Girls to be sent into Convents
47
to
59.
What he does with respect to the great Dutchess
70
Sends the
Sieur Calliers
into
Holland
to make propositions of a Peace
72.
Sends four Millions into
Poland
to secure the Crown of that Kingdom to the Prince of
Conti 109.
Means to extinguish Quietism
127.
See
Madam de Guyon.
Obliges the Jesuits to give satisfaction to the Archbishop of
Rheims 130.
Buyes Mr.
Bertin
's Tapistry
134.
Acquaints the Allies that he would own King
William
for lawful King
2
p
2.
Payes a Man who had cheated him a
Game, before he chas'd him from Court
11
p
2.
Causes Madam
Guyon
to be Arrested
65
p
2.
Ordain'd the Arch-
B.
of
Cambray
to retire to his A.-bishoprick
70
p
2.
Sends more money to Abbot
Polignac
into
Poland,
than he demands
92
p
2.
Gives
50000
Louis d' Ors to King
James
during the War
135
p
2.
Salutes the Prince and Princess of
Conty
as King and Queen of
Poland 139
p
2,
Is given to Devotion, and held a Council of
Consciences
154 p 2.
His Witicism concerning the Duke of
Orleans 166 p 2.
Gives to the Prince of
Conti 2000000
in Bills of Exchange, and
10000
Louis d'Ors in
Specie,
for to go to
Poland 169 p 2.
Returns to the Prince what he had expended of his own money upon that Voyage
207 p 2.
Sends
60000
Men to the Frontiers of
Spain. 244 p 2.
Offers to His Catholick Majesty to send Succours to
Ceuta. 247 p 2.
Makes rigorous Edicts against the new Converts
255 p 2
Distributes
500
Louis d'Ors in Charity amongst the
English
and
Irish
in his Kingdom
256 p 2.
Presents my L.
Portland
with his Picture beset with Diamonds
256 p 2
Louison
D
'Arquien
Mistress to the Marquis of that Name
96 p 2
Louvois
Marquis
108 p 2. 118 p 2
Lude
Duchess
115 p 2.
Lady of Honour to Madamoiselle of
Savoy 192 p 2
Luxury
extraordinary at
Paris 190 p 2
Luxemburg
Marshal his Death
105.
What the Soldiers said of him
4 p 2.
His Children
7 p 2
Luxemburg
(Duke)
7 p 2.
See
Montmorency.
M
MAdam
The Duchess of
Orleans
had a fall
163 p 2
Maimburg
Mistaken in his History of Marshal
de la Force 54
Maintenon
(Madam) Angry that Quietism should be introduced into St.
Cir. 71 p 2.
Has a Niece
250 p 2
Mamellus 85
Marat
(Madam)
118 p 2
Marocco,
the K. besieges
Ceuta 120
Marsan
(the Count) the youngest Brother of all the Princes of the house of
Lorrain 42 p 2
Marriage
of the D. of
Burgundy
Solemniz'd with great magnificence
191 p 2. Clandestine
marriages usual in
France 60
Mars
(Mr. S.)
265 p 2
Martha (
the Dr. of St.
Martha)
his Character
73 p 2.
He is turned out from being General of his Order by the intrigues of the Jesuits
75 p 2.
He discovers that one of the Priests betrays him
74 p 2.
He is represented as a Jansenist
75 p 2
Martin
(Madam de S.)
48.
Mr.
S. Martin
throws himself over a Precipice
171 p 2
Masquarades
prohibited by the A. B of
Paris 54 p 2
Master
of Horse in
France,
great Dukes and Peers will not give him the precedency
8
Maurepas
(Mr.)
268 p 2
Mazarin
(the Duke)
5 p 2
Mazarin
(the Cardinal) a great Comedian
122 p 2
Meaux
(the Bishop) writes against the A. B. of
Cambray
his Book
125, 63 p 2.
He writes a Book in opposition to Madam
Guyon 69 p 2
Medina Celi,
the Duke, Viceroy of
Naples 198 p 2
Megrigny
Ingeneer
3 p 2
Meilleraie
(the Marshal) his Lady proud of her Quality. Her notions of mercy
41
Melfort
(my Lord) seemingly disgrac'd by K.
James.
What is said of his Conduct
136 p 2
Melun
(Madam)
249 p 2
Merè
(the Marchioness)
137
Miotte,
gathers up great Magazines of Corn. What happens
to him
286 p 2
M
elets 149 p 2
Molin
s 62 p 2
Money
receiu'd in
France 183 p 2
Montau
an
(the Princess) her
Madam de
Grancei 117 p 2.
Her Character
120 p 2.
Her difference with her Hu
band
121 p 2
(the Duke) his Dispute with the great Ma
of Horse for
France 8
Montbason
(the Duke) shut up in a Convent
121 p 2
Montchamp
Counsellor of the Parliament of
Bretanny,
troubled for caning another
230 p 2
Montchevreuil
(the Marquis and Merchioness)
269 p 2
Montchevreuil
(the Chevalier)
53 p 2
M
ntigny
(the Marshal) the Marquis of
Arquien
is de
cer
of his Family
84
Montmorency
(the Duke
4 p 2.
He marries the Marquis of
Clerembaut
's Daughter
6 p 2
Mo
,
af
n us Woman retaining to the Opera
230 p 2
Motthe
(the Count) is made Governor of the Bergues
70
Muscovy
(the grard Duke) sends
is General to
Vienna 2
0 p 2
M
etaire
in M
erade bea
89
N
NEmours
(the Dutchess
100, 1
3, 1
4, 105, 43 p 2
English
ound
I
d
a 53 p 2
Nevers
42, 43, 45, 51
Neufchatel 102
Ninou Lendos 51
Noailles
(the Marshal) Commands in
Catalonia 91.
His Family
92.
He has many Children
95
Nogent
(the Count and Chevalier)
118 p 2
Noirmoitier
(the Duke) his Daughter
10 p 2
Nompart
the Name of the Family
de la Force 54
Normand
a Farmer-general at
Lisle.
His Difference with Mr.
Creci
and
Harlai 80
Nostradamus 144 p 2
Novion,
first President
37 p 2
Novion
(Marquis) his share in the Adventure of the Chevalier de
S. Geniers 234 p 2
Noyon
(the Bishop) an Adventure of his
120 p 2
Nun,
a Story of one
101 p 2
O
OBetere
(Chevalier) Governor of
Couilloure 112 p 2
Officer
of the Army of the Crown of
Poland,
goes to
France
to give intelligence
98 p 2
Oginski
great standard bearer of
Lithuania 202 p 2
Olonne
(the Count)
8 p 2, 10 p 2
Ombreval
Attorney General for the Court of
Aydes.
His Son's Adventure with two Jesuites
236 p 2
Onneuil
(Mr.)
137, 138
Oratory,
the Fathers of that Society reconcil'd to the Jesuitis
72 p 2, 75 p 2
Orleans,
the Abbot bearing that Title
100, 101, 102.
The Arguments made use of to prove that he was Compo
s mentis
103.
The Fooleries charg'd upon him
104
Orleans
(the Bishop) his quarrel with the D. of
Rochefoucaut 113 p 2.
He returns to
Paris 162 p 2
Osnabruk
(the Bishop of it)
287 p 2
P
PAlatines 86 Paris,
the Archbishop of that Place
94, 59 p 2, 64 p 2.
He suppresses private Chappels
111
Passau,
the Bishop
49 p 2
Paul,
the Count of
S. Paul 101
Peace
concluded
179 p 2
Pelle
ier
(Mr.) retires
261 p 2 283 p 2
Perefixe (Mr.)
Archbishop of
Paris 75 p 2
Petit
of
Rochelle 46 p 2.
He is put in the Bastile
46 p 2,
and conveys some Writings to Mr.
Tourville 47 p 2
Phelipeaux
(Mr.)
139
Phelipeaux
(Mr.)
de Her
aut 194 p 2
Philip,
the Prince
41
Philip IV.
King of
Spain 41
Picture
of the Princess of
Conti
found in a shirmish
50 p 2
Plenipotentaries
of
France 78, 79.
Arrive at
Delft 81,
and do nothing for
K. James, 1
and
2 p 2
Pointis
(Mr.) in Love with President
Ferrand
's Daughter
48 p 2. He
Sails towards
Carthagena 49 p 2.
and sacks that City
51 p 2
Poland
(the Queen of that Country) differs with
France,
and insults the Marquis of de
Vitri
the
French
King's Ambassador
85.
Sets up Prince
James
her Son, as a Candidat for the Crown of
Poland 87.
Indeavours to prefer any one to the Prince of
Cont 108.
Abbot
Polignac
Addresses to her
84 p 2, 85 p 2:
She becomes jealous of that Abbot
92 p 2, 94 p 2.
Her marriage with
Sobieski 94 p 2.
Her Character
95 p 2
her desire to retire from
Poland 205 p 2
Poland
(the Princes of it) lodge
8
0000
Crowns in the bank of
Paris 88.
Their Adventure at a Ball
89.
They depart
France 97.
Poland
disturb'd
168. p. 2.
It engaged in a League with the Emperour,
Muscovy
and the Republick of
Venice, 200 p 2.
Polignac
(the Abbot) the
French
Ambassadour in
Poland 87.
He never discovers the Duke of
Saxony's
Interest
99 p 2.
He throws his M
y about Plentifully,
83 p 2.
He endeavours to lessen the
Austrian
Faction
85 p 2. 89 p 2. 99 p 2. 126 p 2. 172 p 2.
He is much surpris'd at the Prince of
Conti's
departure from
Poland,
and sets out for
France 185 p 2.
Pommereau,
(Mr.)
134.
Pomponne
(Mr.)
261 p 2.
Pontchartrain
(Mr.)
64 139, 144, 148, 36 p 2. 43 p 2. 48 p 2, 194 p 2
Pope,
his favour to Mr.
Harlai 41 p 2
Porte
(the Chevalier at present a Count)
114.
His bargain with his Wife
115.
His marriage disannull'd
116
Porte,
the Marchioness
117.
The Original of that Family
117
Portland
(my Lord) his Conferences with Marshal
Boufflers 134 p 2, 136 p 2, 166 p 2.
He is sent Ambassador from
England
to
France 239
p
2
is receiv'd with great marks of honour
257
p
2, 258
p
2
Portsmouth,
the Dutchess
206
p
2
Prizes
taken at Sea by the
French
in the last War are inconceivable
133
p
2
Pussort
(Mr)
132, 133
Q
QUality
Persons of Quality in
France
prefer'd to those who live by a Profession
119
Quarrel
between Husband and Wife, upon a very triffling occasion
143
p
2
Quietism 124, 127, 62
p
2, 70
p
2, 278
p
2,
See
Cambray, Guyon, Meaux.
R
RAcapee
(Madam)
60
Radziowski,
Cardinal, Archbishop of
Gnesne 83
p
2
Recollet
Almoner
155
p
2.
Condemn'd to the Gallys
159
p
2
Reims,
the Archbishop of that place differs with the Jesuits
128
Reinie
(Mr.)
62
Reuel
(the Marquis) the King is misinformed of his Quality
119
Ribere
(Mr.)
101
Richelieu
(the Dutchess) her Death
282
p
2
Robbers
in
France 287
p
2
Rochefoucaut
(the Duke) falls out with the Bishop of
Orleans, 112
2.
means to marry the Prince of
Marsillac
his Grandson to Madam
Maintenon
's Niece
251
p
2
The King has respect f
r him
282
p
2
Rocheguvon,
the Duke, his marriage to the M
s of
Louvois
his Daughter
187
p
2
Reux,
the Count, Governor of
Ath 213
p
2.
What he said upon the surrender of the place
124
p
2
Rohan,
the young Lady
8
p
2
Rohan,
the Chevalier
9
p
2.
His Character
10
p
2
Rohan,
the Marchioness
10
p
2
Roquelaure,
the Dutchess, proposes the Edicts upon Coats of Arms
151
Rouiller,
the Abbot, sent to a Seminary
123
Rouci,
the Countess, one of the six Ladies of the Palais.
3.
She goes to meet the Princess of
Savoy
at
Brauvoisin
Bridge.
4.
She is Covetous
140
Rouen,
the Archbishop, falls out with the Jesuits
127, 123
Rouville,
the Marquis
82
p
2
Roye,
the Count and Countess of that Name
139, 140
Rubantel
Lieutenant General receives Orders from Mr.
Boufflers 20
p
2
Rue
a small Town in
Piccardy 33
Ryswick
the place appointed for the Conferences of Peace
78, 59
p
2, 110
p
2
S
SAlon
a Town in
Provence,
where
Nostrada
s
was b
n
144
p
2
Sapieha 85
p
2, 86
p
2, 202
p
2
Saumers
(Mr.)
268
p
2
Savoy
(the Duke) concludes a Treaty with
France 1, 2, 3.
His Daughter betroth'd to the D. of
Burgundy 3.
She sets out for
Beauvoisin
Bridge
4.
She arrives at
Lions
and
M
ntarges,
where the King meets her and is taken with her W
.
5.
One of the Dukes of
Savoy
disputed
the Precedency with the Prince of
Conde
in the time of
Henry IV. 6.
The Princess of
Savoy
before her marriage, was call'd the Princess, and had the Precedency of all the Princesses of the Blood
6.
The D. of
Savoy
is somewhat dissatisfied and causes an Inscription to be made that did not please the Court of
France, 7.
He pretends that the Prince of
Carignan
should take the right hand of the Dukes of
Foix
and
Choiseul,
and accordingly 'twas so.
8.
That Prince's dissimulation. He Sends these two Lords back to
France 12.
The presents made to the Princess of
Savoy 13.
What the King resolv'd to do in case the D. of
Burgundy
had dy'd before the Consummation of his marriage with the Princess of
Savoy 187
p
2, 209
p
2
Savoy.
P.
Eugene
of that name propos'd for Vice-Roy of
Navarre 197
p
2
Saxony,
the Elector, abjures Lutheranism
107.
He borrows money to procure his accession to the Crown of
Poland 109.
The measures he uses to compass his end
109.
He is a War
Prince
87
p
2.
He professes the Catholick Religion publickly
89
p
2, 99
p
2.
and is proclaim'd King
137
p
2.
What the World said of the sincerity of his Profession
140
p
2.
He makes himself master of the Castle of
Cracow 177
p
2,
and marches
German
Troops into the Country
183
p
2.
He sends an Envoy to the Pope
186
p
2.
and promises the Pope's Nuncio all that he desir'd
201
p
2.
He gives reception to the Cardinal Primate
205
p
2,
and sends a Minister to
France 207
p
2
Scarcity
of Provisions in
France 285
p
2
Seignelay,
the Marchioness
5
p
2
Serrau,
the Count
60
Seraphin
the Father, Guardian of the Capuchins of
Mendon
Preaches freely before the King
412
p
2
Servon,
a Gentleman
57
p
2
Sesane,
the Marquis,
235
p
2
Sessac,
the Marquis
9
p
2
Sharpers 190
p
2
Silleri,
the Chevalier, accompapanies the
P.
of
Conti
to
Poland,
and assumes the Title of a Count
173
p
2
Sobieski. John,
K. of
Poland.
His Character
85 99, 127
p
2, 204
p
2
Soissons
(Mademoiselle) goes to the Bastile in order to see Madam
Chambonneau's
Spark
46.
She goes to
Brussels 52.
The D. of
Savoy
desires the King to turn her out of
France 209
p
2
Soissons
(Madam) the state she was reduc'd to. What the World said of her
52
Soissons
(the Chevalier) the Bastard of the late Count
Soissons.
Madam
Nemours
gives him the Principality of
Neufchatel,
and gets him to be married to Marshal
Luxemburg
's Daughter
105
Songs
of a scandalous Nature
17
Spain
the Queen demands Troops of the Emperor, and for what
61
p
2
Spaniards
are allarm'd at the preparations of
France 109
p
2
Strangers
in
Paris 189
p
2
Students
at
Paris
whip the Jesuits in the Streets
236
p
2
Sturgeon
taken for a Courier
129
p
2
Sweden,
their King is declared Major before the wo
ted time
160
p
2
Sulli
(the Dutchess) her Bed and Hangings attach'd by the Princess of
Furstemberg 114
p
2.
The young Dutchess of
Sulli
has a quarrel with the Prince
of
H
rcourt 192
p
2
Sulli
(the Chevalier) is robb'd by a person of Quality at the solemnity of
Burgundy
's marrage
190
p
2
T
TAlbet
the Duke of
Tyrconnel
's Natural Son, Brigadeer of the King's Armies in
Italy,
and Colonel of a Regiment
25
p
2.
Put in the Bastile
26
p
2,
and l
ses his Regiment and Pension
27
p
2
Talon
(Mr.) Advocate General always read his pleadings
135
Tambonneau,
President
42
p
2
Tariff 194
p
2
Termes
(the Marquis) one of the Spies at Court
17
Tesse
(the Count) Lieutenant General of the Kings Armies.
2.
Is made first Master of Horse to the Princess of
Savoy. 4.
His other places
4.
Thaumur
(Madam) the Wife of me of the Captains of the Galleys of
Versailles
is shut up in
les Repenties 59
Ther
n
(Mademoiselle
111
p
2
Thoisi
(Madam)
97
Tholouse
(the Count) makes magnificent Presents to the Marquis of
An
in,
and is made Governor of
Bretany 277
p
2
Tilader,
the Chevalier,
19
p
2
Tirconel 25
p
2, 26
p
2
Tour,
the Priest, chosen General of the Fathers of the Oratory
75
p
2
Tourville,
the Marshal, sends his Lady to one of his Country Seats
31 p 2
Trappe
(the Abbot) writes two Letters against the A. B. of
Cambray 127
Tremouille,
the Abbot, is contemptuously spoken of
8
p
2
Trouson,
Dr. of the
Sorbonne,
his Character
66
p
2
Turks
make a Peace with the Emperor
288
p
2
Turenne
commended
18
p
2
He us'd to say, that God assisted great Squadrons
233
p
2
Valeri,
the Marchioness of S.
Valeri 77
p
2
Valliere,
the Marchioness
249
p
2
Varennes,
Mademoiselle, banish'd
39
p
2
Vaubrun,
the Abbot,
280
p
2
Vaudemont
(Prince) Governor of the Milanese
197
p
2
Vauiour,
the Dutchy
249
p
2
Vaul,
the Count marry's a Daughter of Madam
Guyon
's
124
Vendome,
the Duke, propos'd for King of
Poland 87.
He commands in
Catalon 60
p
2,
and Besieges
Barcelona 125
p
2,
He is the
Dauphin
's Favourite
207
p
2
Vendome,
the Chevalier, grand Prior of
France
falls out with the P. of
Conti 263
p
2.
He offers to draw u
o
him and is sent to the Bastille
264
p
2
ut is releas'd
267
p
2
Venice 200
p
2
Venetian,
Lady, undertakes a journey to
France
to see the King
104
p
2
Ventadour,
the Duke
114
p
2
Verneuil,
Counsellour of the Requests of the Palais
20
p
2
Verneuil,
the Dutchess, mother to the Dutchess of
Lude 115
p
2
Verthamont,
master of the Requests, keeps company with Women. An Adventure of his
67
Verthamont,
Mr. de
Vellenom,
his Character
57
p
2
Vertheueil,
the Abbot
282
p
2
Vertus,
the Countess, makes a Comical bargain with her Husband
114, 115, 116.
Her marriage disannul'd
116
Vesins,
the Marquis
118
Vice-Roy
of
Catalonia,
has a Stratagom put upon him by the Duke of
Vendome 130
p
2
Vieuville
(Mr.)
45
Vieuxburg;
the Marquis
40
p
2
Villars,
the Marquis, Ambassador to
Vienna
from
France 195
p
2
Villequier,
the Marchioness, has her Coats pull'd up by a Footman at the
Tuilleries-Gate 164
p
2
Villeroi,
the Marshal his Character
2
p
2, 3
p
2, 123
p
2
Villete
Lieutenant General at Sea
46
p
2
Vitri,
the Marquis, Ambassador from
France
to
Poland
is insolently us'd
85, 97
p
2
Usez
the Family
116
p
2
Usher
of the Chamber
212
p
2
Usson (Mr.) 131
p
2
W
WAles
(Prince) had orders to enter into Conversation with the Earl of
Portland
's Son
257
p
2
Wertheux 226 p 2
William III.
King of
England,
forms a League against
France. 2
Lends vast sums to the Elector of
Saxony 109,
Is own'd by
France 2
p
2.
Offers his mediation for a Peace betwixt the Emperor and the Sultan
199
p
2.
Has good Armies
258
p
2.
Goes to
Germany 288
p
2
Z
ZAmet Sebastian 43
p
2