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Section 21 of 33 - Table of Contents
SECTION XXII.--THE ILLEGITIMATE CHILDREN OF THE REGENT, DUC D'ORLEANS.
My son has three illegitimate children, two boys and a girl; but only one
of them is legitimated, that is, his son by Mademoiselle de Seri, a lady
of noble family, and who was my Maid of Honour. The younger Margrave of
Anspach was also in love with her. This son is called the Chevalier
d'Orleans. The other, who is now (1716) about eighteen years old, is an
Abbe; he is the son of La Florence, a dancer at the Opera House. The
daughter is by Desmarets, the actress. My son says that the Chevalier
d'Orleans is more unquestionably his than any of the others; but, to tell
the truth, I think the Abbe has a stronger family likeness to my son than
the Chevalier, who is like none of them. I do not know where my son
found him; he is a good sort of person, but he has neither elegance nor
beauty. It is a great pity that the Abbe is illegitimate: he is well
made; his features are not bad; he has very good talents, and has studied
much.--[Duclos says that this 'eleve' of the Jesuits was, nevertheless,
the most zealous ignoramus that ever their school produced.]--He is a
good deal like the portraits of the late Monsieur in his youth, only that
he is bigger. When he stands near Mademoiselle de Valois it is easy to
see that they belong to the same father. My son purchased for the
Chevalier d'Orleans the office of General of the Galleys from the
Marechal de Tasse. He intends to make him a Knight of Malta, so that he
may live unmarried, for my son does not wish to have the illegitimate
branches of his family extended. The Chevalier does not want wit; but he
is a little satirical, a habit which he takes from his mother.
My son will not recognize the Abbe Saint-Albin, on account of the
irregular life which his mother, La Florence, has led. He fears being
laughed at for acknowledging children so different. The Abbe Dubois was
a chief cause, too, why my son would not acknowledge this son. It was
because the Abbe, aspiring to the Cardinal's hat, was jealous of every
one who might be a competitor with him. I love this Abbe Saint-Albin, in
the first place, because he is attached to me, and, in the second,
because he is really very clever; he has wit and sense, with none of the
mummery of priests. My son does not esteem him half so much as he
deserves, for he is one of the best persons in the world; he is pious and
virtuous, learned in every point, and not vain. It is in vain for my son
to deny him; any one may see of what race he comes, and I am sorry that
he is not legitimated. My son is much more fond of Seri's Son.
The poor Abbe de Saint-Albin is grieved to death at not being
acknowledged; while Fortune smiles upon his elder brother, he is
forgotten, despised, and has no rank; he seeks only to be legitimated.
I console him as well as I can; but why should I tease my son about the
business?
[The Abbe de Saint-Albin was appointed Bishop of Laon, and, after
Dubois' death, Archbishop of Cambrai. When he wished to become a
member of the Parliament he could not give the names either of his
father or mother; he had been baptized in the name of Cauche, the
Regent's valet de chambre and purveyor.]
It would only put him in the way of greater inconveniences, for, as he
has also several children by Parabere, she would be no less desirous that
he should legitimate hers. This consideration ties my tongue.
The daughter of the actress Desmarets is somewhat like her mother, but
she is like no one else. She was educated in a convent at Saint Denis,
but had no liking for a nun's life. When my son had her first brought to
him she did not know who she was. When my son told her he was her
father, she was transported with joy, fancying that she was the daughter
of Seri and sister to the Chevalier; she thought, too, that she would be
legitimated immediately. When my son told her that could not be done,
and that she was Desmarets' daughter, she wept excessively. Her mother
had never been permitted to see her in the convent; the nuns would not
have allowed it, and her presence would have been injurious to the child.
From the time she was born, her mother had not seen her until the present
year (1719), when she saw her in a box at the theatre, and wept for joy.
My son married this girl to the Marquis de Segur.
An actress at the Opera House, called Mdlle. d'Usg, who is since dead,
was in great favour with my son, but that did not last long. At her
death it appeared that, although she had had several children, neither
she nor her mother nor her grandmother had ever been married.
SECTION XXIII.--THE CHEVALIER DE LORRAINE.
The Chevalier de Lorraine looked very ill, but it was in consequence of
his excessive debauchery, for he had once been a handsome man. He had a
well-made person, and if the interior had answered to the exterior I
should have had nothing to say against him. He was, however, a very bad
man, and his friends were no better than he. Three or four years before
my husband's death, and for his satisfaction, I was reconciled with the
Chevalier, and from that time he did me no mischief. He was always
before so much afraid of being sent away that he used to tell Monsieur he
ought to know what I was saying and doing, that he might be apprised of
any attempt that should be made against the Chevalier or his creatures.
He died so poor that his friends were obliged to bury him; yet he had
100,000 crowns of revenue, but he was so bad a manager that his people
always robbed him. Provided they would supply him when he wanted them
with a thousand pistoles for his pleasures or his play, he let them
dispose of his property as they thought fit. That Grancey drew large
sums from him. He met with a shocking death. He was standing near
Madame de Mare, Grancey's sister, and telling her that he had been
sitting up at some of his extravagant pleasures all night, and was
uttering the most horrible expressions, when suddenly he was stricken
with apoplexy, lost the power of speech, and shortly afterwards expired.
[He died suddenly in his own house, playing at ombre, as many of his
family had done, and was regretted by no person except Mdlle. de
Lillebonne, to whom he was believed to have been privately married.
--Note to Dangeau's Journal. This man, who was suspected of having
poisoned the King's sister-in-law, was nevertheless in possession of
four abbeys, the revenues of which defrayed the expenses of his
debaucheries.]
SECTION XXIV.--PHILIP V., KING OF SPAIN.
Louis XIV. wept much when his grandson set out for Spain. I could not
help weeping, too. The King accompanied him as far as Sceaux. The tears
and lamentations in the drawing-room were irresistible. The Dauphin was
also deeply affected.
The King of Spain is very hunchbacked, and is not in other respects well
made; but he is bigger than his brothers. He has the best mien, good
features, and fine hair. What is somewhat singular, although his hair is
very light, his eyes are quite black; his complexion is clear red and
white; he has an Austrian mouth; his voice is deep, and he is singularly
slow in speaking. He is a good and peaceable sort of a person, but a
little obstinate when he takes it in his head. He loves his wife above
all things, leaves all affairs to her, and never interferes in anything.
He is very pious, and believes he should be damned if he committed any
matrimonial infidelity. But for his devotion he would be a libertine,
for he is addicted to women, and it is for this reason he is so fond of
his wife. He has a very humble opinion of his own merit. He is very
easily led, and for this reason the Queen will not lose sight of him. He
receives as current truths whatever is told him by persons to whom he is
accustomed, and never thinks of doubting. The good gentleman ought to be
surrounded by competent persons, for his own wit would not carry him far;
but he is of a good disposition, and is one of the quietest men in the
world. He is a little melancholy, and there is nothing in Spain to make
him gay.
He must know people before he will speak to them at all. If you desire
him to talk you must tease him and rally him a little, or he will not
open his mouth. I have seen Monsieur very impatient at his talking to
me while he could not get a word from him. Monsieur did not take the
trouble to talk to him before he was a King, and then he wished him to
speak afterwards; that did not suit the King. He was not the same with
me. In the apartment, at table, or at the play, he used to sit beside
me. He was very fond of hearing tales, and I used to tell them to him
for whole evenings: this made him well accustomed to me, and he had
always something to ask me. I have often laughed at the answer he made
me when I said to him, "Come, Monsieur, why do not you talk to your
uncle, who is quite distressed that you never speak to him."
"What shall I say to him?" he replied, "I scarcely know him."
It is quite true that the Queen of Spain was at first very fond of the
Princesse des Ursins, and that she grieved much when that Princess was
dismissed for the first time. The story that is told of the Confessor is
also very true; only one circumstance is wanting in it, that is, that the
Duc de Grammont, then Ambassador, played the part of the Confessor, and
it was for this reason he was recalled.
The Queen had one certain means of making the King do whatever she
wished. The good gentleman was exceedingly fond of her, and this
fondness she turned to good account. She had a small truckle-bed in her
room, and when the King would not comply with any of her requests she
used to make him sleep in this bed; but when she was pleased with him he
was admitted to her own bed; which was the very summit of happiness to
the poor King. After the Princesse des Ursins had departed, the King
recalled the Confessor from Rome, and kept him near his own person
(1718).
The King of Spain can never forgive, and Madame des Ursins has told him
so many lies to my son's disadvantage that the King can never, while he
lives, be reconciled to him.
Rebenac's--[Francois de Feuquieres, Called the Comte de Rebenac,
Extraordinary Ambassador to Spain.]--passion for the late Queen of Spain
was of no disadvantage to her; she only laughed at it, and did not care
for him. It was the Comte de Mansfeld, the man with the pointed nose,
who poisoned her. He bought over two of her French femmes de chambre to
give her poison in raw oysters; and they afterwards withheld from her the
antidote which had been entrusted to their care.
The Queen of Spain, daughter of the first Madame,--[Henrietta of
England.]--died in precisely the same manner as she did, and at the same
age, but in a much more painful manner, for the violence of the poison
was such as to make her nails fall off.
SECTION XXV.--THE DUCHESSE LOUISE-FRANCISQUE, CONSORT OF LOUIS III., DUC DE BOURBON.
I knew a German gentleman who has now been dead a long time (1718), who
has sworn to me positively that the Duchess is not the daughter of the
King, but of Marechal de Noailles. He noted the time at which he saw the
Marshal go into Montespan's apartment, and it was precisely nine months
from that time that the Duchess came into the world. This German, whose
name was Bettendorf, was a brigadier in the Body Guard; and he was on
guard at Montespan's when the captain of the first company paid this
visit to the King's mistress.
The Duchess is not prettier than her daughters, but she has more grace;
her manners are more fascinating and agreeable; her wit shines in her
eyes, but there is some malignity in them also. I always say she is like
a very pretty cat, which, while you play with it, lets you feel it has
claws. No person has a better carriage of the head. It is impossible to
dance better than the Duchess and her daughters can; but the mother
dances the best. I do not know how it is, but even her lameness is
becoming to her. The Duchess has the talent of saying things in so
pleasant a manner that one cannot help laughing. She is very amusing and
uncommonly good company; her notions are so very comical. When she
wishes to make herself agreeable to any one she is very insinuating, and
can take all shapes; if she were not also treacherous, one might say
truly that nobody is more amiable than the Duchess; she understands so
well how to accommodate herself to people's peculiar habits that one
would believe she takes a real interest in them; but there is nothing
certain about her. Although her sense is good, her heart is not.
Notwithstanding her ambition, she seems at first as if she thought only
of amusing and diverting herself and others; and she can feign so
skilfully that one would think she had been very agreeably entertained in
the society of persons, whom immediately upon her return home she will
ridicule in all possible ways.
La Mailly complained to her aunt, old Maintenon, that her husband was in
love with the Duchess; but this husband, having afterwards been
captivated by an actress named Bancour, gave up to her all the Duchess's
letters, for which he was an impertinent rascal. The Duchess wrote a
song upon Mailly, in which she reproached her, notwithstanding her airs
of prudery, with an infidelity with Villeroi, a sergeant of the Guard.
In the Duchess's house malice passes for wit, and therefore they are
under no restraint. The three sisters--the Duchess, the Princesse de
Conti, and Madame d'Orleans--behave to each other as if they were not
sisters.
The Princess is a very virtuous person, and is much displeased at her
daughter-in-law's manner of life, for Lasso is with her by day and by
night; at the play, at the Opera, in visits, everywhere Lasso is seen
with her.
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