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Section 31 of 33 - Table of Contents
There is a Bishop of a noble family, tolerably young but very ugly, who
was at first so devout that he thought of entering La Trappe; he wore his
hair combed down straight, and dared not look a woman in the face.
Having learned that in the city where he held his see there was a frail
fair one, whose gallantries had become notorious, he felt a great desire
to convert her and to make her come to the confessional. She was, it is
said, a very pretty woman, and had, moreover, a great deal of wit.
No sooner had the Bishop began to visit than he began to pay attention to
his hair: first he powdered it, and then he had it dressed. At length he
swallowed the bait so completely, that he neither quitted the fair siren
by night nor by day. His clergy ventured to exhort him to put an end to
this scandal, but he replied that, if they did not cease their
remonstrances, he would find means of making them. At length he even
rode through the city in his carriage with his fair penitent.
The people became so enraged at this that they pelted him with stones.
His relations repaired to his diocese for the purpose of exhorting him in
their turn, but he would only receive his mother, and would not even
follow her advice. His relations then applied to the Regent to summon
the lady to Paris. She came, but her lover followed and recovered her;
at length she was torn from him by a lettre-de-cachet, and taken from his
arms to a house of correction. The Bishop is in a great rage, and
declares that he will never forgive his family for the affront which has
been put upon him (1718).
The Queen-mother is said to have eaten four times a day in a frightful
manner, and this practice is supposed to have brought on that cancer in
the breast, which she sought to conceal by strong Spanish perfumes, and
of which she died.
Those female branches of the French Royal Family, who are called Enfants
de France, all bear the title of Madame. For this reason it is that in
the brevets they are called Madame la Duchesse de Berri; Madame la
Duchesse d'Orleans; but in conversation they are called the Duchesse de
Berri, the Duchesse d'Orleans; or, rather, one should say, Madame de
Berri will have it so with respect to herself. The title of Duchesse
d'Orleans belongs to Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans, as granddaughter.
Such is the custom prevalent here. The brother and the sister-in-law of
the King are called simply Monsieur and Madame, and these titles are also
contained in my brevets; but I suffer myself to be called commonly Madame
la Duchesse d'Orleans. Madame de Berri will be called Madame la Duchess
de Berri, because, being only an Enfant de France of the third descent,
she has need of that title to set off her relationship. There is nothing
to be said for this: if there were any unmarried daughters of the late
King, each would be called Madame, with the addition of their baptismal
name.
It seems that Queen Mary of England was something of a coquette in
Holland. Comte d'Avaux, the French Ambassador, told me himself that he
had had a secret interview with her at the apartments of one of the
Queen's Maids of Honour, Madame Treslane. The Prince of Orange, becoming
acquainted with the affair, dismissed the young lady, but invented some
other pretext that the real cause might not be known.
Three footmen had a quarrel together; two of them refused to admit the
third to their table, saying, "as he and his master only serve a
president's wife, he cannot presume to compare himself with us, who serve
Princesses and Duchesses." The rejected footman called another fellow to
his aid, and a violent squabble ensued. The commissaire was called: he
found that they served three brothers, the sons of a rich merchant at
Rouen; two of them had bought companies in the French Guards; one of the
two had an intrigue with the wife of Duc d'Abret, and the other with the
Duchesse de Luxembourg, while the third was only engaged with the wife of
a president. The two former were called Colande and Maigremont; and, as
at the same time the Duc d'Abret, the son of the Duc de Bouillon, was in
love with the lady of the President Savari.
The Envoy from Holstein, M. Dumont, was very much attached to Madame de
La Rochefoucauld, one of Madame de Berri's 'dames du palais'. She was
very pretty, but gifted with no other than personal charms. Some one was
joking her on this subject, and insinuated that she had treated her lover
very favourably. "Oh! no," she replied, "that is impossible, I assure
you, entirely impossible." When she was urged to say what constituted
the impossibility, she replied, "If I tell, you will immediately agree
with me that it is quite impossible." Being pressed still further, she
said, with a very serious air, "Because he is a Protestant!"
When the marriage of Monsieur was declared, he said to Saint-Remi, "Did
you know that I was married to the Princesse de Lorraine?"--
"No, Monsieur," replied the latter; "I knew very well that you lived with
her, but I did not think you would have married her."
Queen Marie de Medicis, the wife of Henri IV., was one day walking at the
Tuileries with her son, the Dauphin, when the King's mistress came into
the garden, having also her son with her. The mistress said very,
insolently, to the Queen, "There are our two Dauphins walking together,
but mine is a fairer one than yours" The Queen gave her a smart box on
the ear, and said at the same time, "Let this impertinent woman be taken
away." The mistress ran instantly to Henri IV. to complain, but the
King, having heard her story, said, "This is your own fault; why did you
not speak to the Queen with the respect which you owe to her?"
Madame de Fiennes, who in her youth had been about the Queen-mother, used
always to say to the late Monsieur, "The Queen, your mother, was a very
silly woman; rest her soul!" My aunt, the Abbess of Maubuisson, told me
that she saw at the Queen's a man who was called "the repairer of the
Queen's face;" that Princess, as well as all the ladies of the Court,
wore great quantities of paint.
On account of the great services which the House of Arpajon in France had
rendered to the Order of Malta, a privilege was formerly granted that the
second son of that family, should at his birth become a Knight of the
Order without the necessity of any proof or any inquiry as to his mother.
The Czar Peter I. is not mad; he has sense enough, and if he had not
unfortunately been so brutally educated he would have made a good prince.
The way in which he behaved to his Czarowitz (Alexis) is horrible. He
gave his word that he would do him no injury, and afterwards poisoned him
by means of the Sacrament. This is so impious and abominable that I can
never forgive him for it (1719).
The last Duc d'Ossuna had, it is said, a very beautiful, but at the same
time a passionate and jealous wife. Having learnt that her husband had
chosen a very fine stuff for the dress of his mistress, an actress, she
went to the merchant and procured it of him. He, thinking it was
intended for her, made no scruple of delivering it to her. After it was
made up she put it on, and, showing it to her husband, said, "Do not you
think it is very beautiful?" The husband, angry at the trick, replied,
"Yes, the stuff is very beautiful, but it is put to an unworthy use."
"That is what everybody says of me," retorted the Duchess.
At Fontainebleau in the Queen's cabinet may be seen the portrait of La
Belle Terronniere, who was so much beloved by Francois I., and who was
the unwitting cause of his death.
I have often walked at night in the gallery at Fontainebleau where the
King's ghost is said to appear, but the good Francois I. never did me
the honour to show himself. Perhaps it was because he thought my prayers
were not efficacious enough to draw him from purgatory, and in this I
think he was quite right.
King James II. died with great firmness and resolution, and without any
bigotry; that is to say, very differently from the manner in which he had
lived. I saw and spoke to him four-and-twenty hours before his death.
"I hope," I said, "soon to hear of your Majesty's getting better." He
smiled and said, "If I should die, shall I not have lived long enough?"
I hardly know how to rejoice at the accession of our Prince George to the
Throne of England, for I have no confidence in the English people. I
remember still too well the fine speeches which were made here not long
ago by Lord Peterborough. I would rather that our Elector was Emperor of
Germany, and I wish that the King who is here (James II.) was again in
possession of England, because the kingdom belongs to him. I fear that
the inconstancy of the English will in the end produce some scheme which
may be injurious to us. Perhaps there was never in any nation a King who
had been crowned with more eclat, or tumultuous joy than James II.; and
yet the same nation since persecuted him in the most pitiless manner, and
has so tormented his innocent son that he can scarcely find an asylum
after all his heavy misfortunes.
[The Duchesse D'Orleans was, by the mother's side, granddaughter of
James I, which explains the interest she took in the fate of the
Stuart family.]
If the English were to be trusted I should say that it is fortunate the
Parliaments are in favour of George; but the more one reads the history
of English Revolutions, the more one is compelled to remark the eternal
hatred which the people of that nation have had towards their Kings, as
well as their fickleness (1714).
Have I not reason to fear on George's account since he has been made King
of England, and knowing as I do the desire he had to be King of another
country? I know the accursed English too well to trust them. May God
protect their Majesties the Princes, and all the family, but I confess I
fear for them greatly (1715).
The poor Princess of Wales
[Wilhelmina-Dorothea-Charlotte, daughter of John Frederick, Margrave
of Anspach, born in 1682, married to the Prince of Wales in 1706.
The particulars of the quarrel between George I. and his son, the
Prince of Wales, will be found in Cose's "Memoirs of Sir Robert
Walpole."]
has caused me great uneasiness since her letter of the 3rd (15th) of
February (1718). She has implored the King's pardon as one implores the
pardon of God, but without success. I know nothing about it, but dread
lest the Prince should partake his mother's disgrace. I think, however,
since the King has declared the Prince to be his son, he should treat him
as such, and not act so haughtily against the Princess, who has never
offended him, but has always treated him with the respect due to a
father. Nothing good can result from the present state of affairs; and
the King had better put an end to a quarrel which gives occasion to a
thousand impertinences, and revives awkward stories which were better
forgotten.
The King of England has returned to London in good health (1719). The
Prince of Wales causes me great anxiety. He thought he should do well to
send one of his gentlemen to his father, to assure him in most submissive
terms of the joy he felt at his happy return. The King not only would
not receive the letter, but he sent back the gentleman with a very harsh
rebuke, revoking at the same time the permission, which before his
journey he had given to the Prince of Wales, to see his daughter, whom
the Prince loves very tenderly; this really seems too severe. It may be
said that the King is rather descended from the race of the Czar than
from that of Brunswick and the Palatinate. Such conduct can do him no
good.
M. d'Entremont, the last Ambassador from Sicily, was upon the point of
departing, and had already had his farewell audience, when some
circumstance happened which compelled him to stay some time longer.
He found himself without a lodging, for his hotel had been already let.
A lady seeing the embarrassment in which Madame d'Entremont was thus
placed, said to her, "Madame, I have pleasure in offering you my house,
my own room, and my own bed." The Ambassador's lady not knowing what to
do, accepted the offer with great readiness. She went to the lady's
house, and as she is old and in ill health, she went to bed immediately.
Towards midnight she heard a noise like that of some person opening a
secret door. In fact, a door in the wall by the bedside was opened.
Some one entered, and began to undress. The lady called out, "Who is
there?" A voice replied, "It is I; be quiet." "Who are you?" asked the
lady. "What is the matter with you?" was the reply. "You were not wont
to be so particular. I am undressing, and shall come to bed directly."
At these words the lady cried out, "Thieves!" with all her might, and the
unknown person dressed himself quickly, and withdrew.
When the Electoral Prince of Saxony came hither, he addressed a pretty
compliment to the King, which we all thought was his own, and we
therefore conceived a very favourable notion of his parts. He did not,
however, keep up that good opinion, and probably the compliment was made
for him by the Elector-Palatine. The King desired the Duchesse de Berri
to show him about Marly. He walked with her for an hour without ever
offering her his arm or saying one word to her. While they were
ascending a small hill, the Palatine, his Governor, nodded to him; and as
the Prince did not understand what he meant, he was at length obliged to
say to him, "Offer your arm to the Duchesse de Berri." The Prince
obeyed, but without saying a word. When they reached the summit, "Here,"
said the Duchesse de Berri, "is a nice place for blindman's buff." Then,
for the first time, he opened his mouth, and said, "Oh, yes; I am very
willing to play." Madame de Berri was too much fatigued to play; but the
Prince continued amusing himself the whole day without offering the least
civility to the Duchess, who had taken such pains for him. This will
serve to show how puerile the Prince is.
..........................
We have had here several good repartees of Duke Bernard von Weimar.
One day a young Frenchman asked him, "How happened it that you lost the
battle?"--"I will tell you, sir," replied the Duke, coolly; "I thought I
should win it, and so I lost it. But," he said, turning himself slowly
round, "who is the fool that asked me this question?"
Father Joseph was in great favour with Cardinal Richelieu, and was
consulted by him on all occasions. One day, when the Cardinal had
summoned Duke Bernard to the Council, Father Joseph, running his finger
over a map, said, "Monsieur, you must first take this city; then that,
and then that." The Duke Bernard listened to him for some time, and at
length said, "But, Monsieur Joseph, you cannot take cities with your
finger." This story always made the King laugh heartily.
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