The Memoirs of Louis XIV. and the Regency, Book III.

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MEMOIRS OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XIV. AND OF THE REGENCY



Being the Secret Memoirs of the Mother of the Regent,
MADAME ELIZABETH-CHARLOTTE OF BAVARIA, DUCHESSE D'ORLEANS.




BOOK 3.


Henrietta of England, Monsieur's First Consort
The Due de Berri
The Duchesse de Berri
Mademoiselle d'Orleans, Louise-Adelaide de Chartres
Mademoiselle de Valois, Consort of the Prince of Modena
The Illegitimate Children of the Regent, Duc d'Orleans
The Chevalier de Lorraine
Philip V., King of Spain
The Duchess, Consort of the Duc de Bourbon
The Younger Duchess
Duc Louis de Bourbon
Francois-Louis, Prince de Conti
La Grande Princesse de Conti
The Princess Palatine, Consort of Prince Francois-Louis de Conti
The Princesse de Conti, Louise-Elizabeth, Consort of Louis-Armand
Louis-Armand, Prince de Conti
The Abbe Dubois
Mr. Law




SECTION XVII.--HENRIETTA OF ENGLAND, THE FIRST WIFE OF MONSIEUR, BROTHER
OF LOUIS XIV.

It is true that the late Madame was extremely unhappy; she confided too
much in people who betrayed her: she was more to be pitied than blamed,
being connected with very wicked persons, about whom I could give some
particulars. Young, pretty and gay, she was surrounded by some of the
greatest coquettes in the world, the mistresses of her bitterest foes,
and who sought only to thrust her into some unfortunate situation and to
embroil her with Monsieur. Madame de Coetquen was the Chevalier de
Lorraine's mistress, although Madame did not know it; and she contrived
that the Marechal de Turenne should become attached to her. Madame
having told the Marshal all her secrets respecting the negotiations with
England, he repeated them to his mistress, Madame de Coetquen, whom he
believed to be devoted to his mistress. This woman went every night to
the Chevalier de Lorraine and betrayed them all. The Chevalier used this
opportunity to stir up Monsieur's indignation against Madame, telling him
that he passed with the King for a simpleton, who could not hold his
tongue; that he would lose all confidence, and that his wife would have
everything in her own hand. Monsieur wished to know all the particulars
from Madame; but she refused to tell him her brother's secrets, and this
widened the breach between them. She became enraged, and had the
Chevalier de Lorraine and his brother driven away, which in the end cost
her own life; she, however, died with the consciousness of never having
done her husband any harm. She was the confidante of the King, to whom
it had been hinted that it might be expedient to give some employment to
Monsieur, who might otherwise make himself beloved in the Court and in
the city. For this reason the King assisted Madame in her affairs of
gallantry, in order to occupy his brother. I have this from the King
himself. Madame was besides in great credit with her brother, Charles
II. (of England). Louis XIV. wished to gain him over through his sister,
wherefore it was necessary to take part with her, and she was always
better treated than I have been. The late Monsieur never suspected his
wife of infidelity with the King, her brother-in-law, he told me, all her
life, and would not have been silent with respect to this intrigue if he
had believed it. I think that with respect to this great injustice is
done to Madame. It would have been too much to deceive at once the
brother and the nephew, the father and the son.

The late Monsieur was very much disturbed at his wife's coquetry; but he
dared not behave ill to her, because she was protected by the King.

The Queen-mother of England had not brought up her children well: she at
first left them in the society of femmes de chambre, who gratified all
their caprices; and having afterwards married them at a very early age,
they followed the bad example of their mother. Both of them met with
unhappy deaths; the one was poisoned, and the other died in child-birth.

Monsieur was himself the cause of Madame's intrigue with the Comte de
Guiche. He was one of the favourites of the late Monsieur, and was said
to have been handsome once. Monsieur earnestly requested Madame to shew
some favour to the Comte de Guiche, and to permit him to wait upon her at
all times. The Count, who was brutal to every one else, but full of
vanity, took great pains to be agreeable to Madame, and to make her love
him. In fact, he succeeded, being seconded by his aunt, Madame de
Chaumont, who was the gouvernante of Madame's children. One day Madame
went to this lady's chamber, under the pretence of seeing her children,
but in fact to meet De Guiche, with whom she had an assignation. She had
a valet de chambre named Launois, whom I have since seen in the service
of Monsieur; he had orders to stand sentinel on the staircase, to give
notice in case Monsieur should approach. This Launois suddenly ran into
the room, saying, "Monsieur is coming downstairs."

The lovers were terrified to death. The Count could not escape by the
antechamber on account of Monsieur's people who were there. Launois
said, "I know a way, which I will put into practice immediately; hide
yourself," he said to the Count, "behind the door." He then ran his head
against Monsieur's nose as he was entering, and struck him so violently
that he began to bleed. At the same moment he cried out, "I beg your
pardon, Monsieur, I did not think you were so near, and I ran to open you
the door."

Madame and Madame de Chaumont ran in great alarm to Monsieur, and covered
his face with their handkerchiefs, so that the Comte de Guiche had time
to get out of the room, and escape by the staircase. Monsieur saw some
one run away, but he thought it was Launois, who was escaping through
fear. He never learnt the truth.

What convinces me of the late Madame's innocence is that, after having
received the last sacraments, she begged pardon of Monsieur for all
disquiets she had occasioned, and said that she hoped to reach heaven
because she had committed no crime against her husband.

I think M. de Monmouth was much worse than the Comte de Guiche; because,
although a bastard, he was the son of Madame's own brother; and this
incest doubled the crime. Madame de Thiange, sister of Madame de
Montespan, conducted the intrigue between the Duke of Monmouth and
Madame.

It is said here that Madame was not a beauty, but that she had so
graceful a manner as to make all she did very agreeable. She never
forgave. She would have the Chevalier de Lorraine dismissed; he was so,
but he was amply revenged of her. He sent the poison by which she was
destroyed from Italy by a nobleman of Provence, named Morel: this man was
afterwards given to me as chief maitre d'hotel, and after he had
sufficiently robbed me they made him sell his place at a high price.
This Morel was very clever, but he was a man totally void of moral or
religious principle; he confessed to me that he did not believe in
anything. At the point of death he would not hear talk of God. He said,
speaking of himself, "Let this carcass alone, it is now good for
nothing." He would steal, lie and swear; he was an atheist and.....

........................

It is too true that the late Madame was poisoned, but without the
knowledge of Monsieur. While the villains were arranging the plan of
poisoning the poor lady, they deliberated whether they should acquaint
Monsieur with it or not. The Chevalier de Lorraine said "No, don't tell
him, for he cannot hold his tongue. If he does not tell it the first
year he may have us hanged ten years afterwards;" and it is well known
that the wretches said, "Let us not tell Monsieur, for he would tell the
King, who would certainly hang us all." They therefore made Monsieur
believe that Madame had taken poison in Holland, which did not act until
she arrived here.

[It is said that the King sent for the maitre d'hotel, and that,
being satisfied that Monsieur had not been a party to the crime, he
said, "Then I am relieved; you may retire." The Memoirs of the day
state also that the King employed the Chevalier de Lorraine to
persuade Monsieur to obey his brother's wishes.]

It appears, therefore, that the wicked Gourdon took no part in this
affair; but she certainly accused Madame to Monsieur, and calumniated and
disparaged her to everybody.

It was not Madame's endive-water that D'Effial had poisoned; that report
must have been a mere invention, for other persons might have tasted it
had Madame alone drank from her own glass. A valet de chambre who was
with Madame, and who afterwards was in my service (he is dead now), told
me that in the morning, while Monsieur and Madame were at Mass, D'Effial
went to the sideboard and, taking the Queen's cup, rubbed the inside of
it with a paper. The valet said to him, "Monsieur, what do you do in
this room, and why do you touch Madame's cup?" He answered, "I am dying
with thirst; I wanted something to drink, and the cup being dirty, I was
wiping it with some paper." In the afternoon Madame asked for some
endive-water; but no sooner had she swallowed it than she exclaimed she
was poisoned. The persons present drank some of the same water, but not
the same that was in the cup, for which reason they were not
inconvenienced by it. It was found necessary to carry Madame to bed.
She grew worse, and at two o'clock in the morning she died in great pain.
When the cup was sought for it had disappeared, and was not found until
long after. It seems it had been necessary to pass it through the fire
before it could be cleaned.

A report prevailed at St. Cloud for several years that the ghost of the
late Madame appeared near a fountain where she had been accustomed to sit
during the great heats, for it was a very cool spot. One evening a
servant of the Marquis de Clerambault, having gone thither to draw water
from the fountain, saw something white sitting there without a head. The
phantom immediately arose to double its height. The poor servant fled in
great terror, and said when he entered the house that he had seen Madame.
He fell sick and died. Then the captain of the Chateau, thinking there
was something hidden beneath this affair, went to the fountain some days
afterwards, and, seeing the phantom, he threatened it with a sound
drubbing if it did not declare what it was.

The phantom immediately said, "Ah, M. de Lastera, do me no harm; I am
poor old Philipinette."

This was an old woman in the village, seventy-seven years old, who had
lost her teeth, had blear eyes, a great mouth and large nose; in short,
was a very hideous figure. They were going to take her to prison, but I
interceded for her. When she came to thank me I asked her what fancy it
was that had induced her to go about playing the ghost instead of
sleeping.

She laughed and said, "I cannot much repent what I have done. At my time
of life one sleeps little; but one wants something to amuse one's mind.
In all the sports of my youth nothing diverted me so much as to play the
ghost. I was very sure that if I could not frighten folks with my white
dress I could do so with my ugly face. The cowards made so many grimaces
when they saw it that I was ready to die with laughing. This nightly
amusement repaid me for the trouble of carrying a pannier by day."

If the late Madame was better treated than I was it was for the purpose
of pleasing the King of England, who was very fond of his sister.

...........................

Madame de La Fayette, who has written the life of the late Madame, was
her intimate friend; but she was still more intimately the friend of M.
de La Rochefoucauld, who remained with her to the day of his death. It
is said that these two friends wrote together the romance of the
Princesse de Cloves.




SECTION XVIII.--THE DUC DE BERRI.

It is not surprising that the manners of the Duc de Berri were not very
elegant, since he was educated by Madame de Maintenon and the Dauphine as
a valet de chambre. He was obliged to wait upon the old woman at table,
and at all other times upon the Dauphine's ladies, with whom he was by
day and night. They made a mere servant of him, and used to talk to him
in a tone of very improper familiarity, saying, "Berri, go and fetch me
my work; bring me that table; give me my scissors."

Their manner of behaving to him was perfectly shameful. This had the
effect of degrading his disposition, and of giving him base propensities;
so that it is not surprising he should have been violently in love with
an ugly femme de chambre. His good father was naturally of rather a
coarse disposition.

But for that old Maintenon, the Duc de Berri would have been humpbacked,
like the rest who had been made to carry iron crosses.

The Duc de Berri's character seemed to undergo a total change; it is said
to be the ordinary lot of the children in Paris that, if they display any
sense in their youth, they become stupid as they grow older.

It was in compliance with the King's will that he married. At first he
was passionately fond of his wife; but at the end of three months he fell
in love with a little, ugly, black femme de chambre. The Duchess, who
had sufficient penetration, was not slow in discovering this, and told
her husband immediately that, if he continued to live upon good terms
with her, as he had done at first, she would say nothing about it, and
act as if she were not acquainted with it; but if he behaved ill, she
would tell the whole affair to the King, and have the femme de chambre
sent away, so that he should never hear of her again. By this threat she
held the Duke, who was a very simple man, so completely in check, that he
lived very well with her up to his death, leaving her to do as she
pleased, and dying himself as fond as ever of the femme de chambre. A
year before his death he had her married, but upon condition that the
husband should not exercise his marital rights. He left her pregnant as
well as his wife, both of whom lay-in after his decease. Madame de
Berri, who was not jealous, retained this woman, and took care of her and
her child.

The Duke abridged his life by his extreme intemperance in eating and
drinking. He had concealed, besides, that in falling from his horse he
had burst a blood-vessel. He threatened to dismiss any of his servants
who should say that he had lost blood. A number of plates were found in
the ruelle of his bed after his death. When he disclosed the accident it
was too late to remedy it. As far as could be judged his illness
proceeded from gluttony, in consequence of which emetics were so
frequently administered to him that they hastened his death.

He himself said to his confessor, the Pere de la Rue, "Ah, father, I am
myself the cause of my death!"

He repented of it, but not until too late.




SECTION XIX.--THE DUCHESSE DE BERRI.

My son loves his eldest daughter better than all the rest of his
children, because he has had the care of her since she was seven years
old. She was at that time seized with an illness which the physicians
did not know how to cure. My son resolved to treat her in his own way.
He succeeded in restoring her to health, and from that moment his love
seemed to increase with her years. She was very badly educated, having
been always left with femmes de chambre. She is not very capricious, but
she is haughty and absolute in all her wishes.

[Her pride led her into all sorts of follies. She once went through
Paris preceded by trumpets and drama; and on another occasion she
appeared at the theatre under a canopy. She received the Venetian
Ambassador sitting in a chair elevated upon a sort of a platform.
This haughtiness, however, did not prevent her from keeping very bad
company, and she would sometimes lay aside her singularities and
break up her orgies to pass some holy days at the Carmelites.]

From the age of eight years she has had entirely her own way, so that it
is not surprising she should be like a headstrong horse. If she had been
well brought up, she would have been a worthy character, for she has very
good sense and a good natural disposition, and is not at all like her
mother, to whom, although she was very severely treated, she always did
her duty. During her mother's last illness, she watched her like a hired
nurse. If Madame de Berri had been surrounded by honest people, who
thought more of her honour than of their own interest, she would have
been a very admirable person. She had excellent feelings; but as that
old woman (Maintenon) once said, "bad company spoils good manners." To
be pleasing she had only to speak, for she possessed natural eloquence,
and could express herself very well.

Her complexion is very florid, for which she often lets blood, but
without effect; she uses a great quantity of paint, I believe for the
purpose of hiding the marks of the small-pox. She cannot dance, and
hates it; but she is well-grounded in music. Her voice is neither strong
nor agreeable, and yet she sings very correctly. She takes as much
diversion as possible; one day she hunts, another day she goes out in a
carriage, on a third she will go to a fair; at other times she frequents
the rope-dancers, the plays, and the operas, and she goes everywhere
'en echarpe', and without stays. I often rally her, and say that she
fancies she is fond of the chase, but in fact she only likes changing her
place. She cares little about the result of the chase, but she likes
boar-hunting better than stag-hunting, because the former furnishes her
table with black puddings and boars' heads.

I do not reckon the Duchesse de Berri among my grandchildren. She is
separated from me, we live like strangers to each other, she does not
disturb herself about me, nor I about her. (7th January, 1716.)

Madame de Maintenon was so dreadfully afraid lest the King should take a
fancy to the Duchesse de Berri while the Dauphine was expected, that she
did her all sorts of ill offices. After the Dauphine's death she
repaired the wrong; but then, to tell the truth, the King's inclination
was not so strong.

If the Duchesse de Berri was not my daughter-in-law, I should have no
reason to be dissatisfied with her; she behaves politely to me, which is
all that I can say. (25th Sept., 1716.)

She often laughs at her own figure and shape. She has certainly good
sense, and is not very punctilious. Her flesh is firm and healthy, her
cheeks are as hard as stone. I should be ungrateful not to love her, for
she does all sorts of civil things towards me, and displays so great a
regard for me that I am often quite amazed at it. (12th April, 1718.)

She is magnificent in her expenditure; to be sure she can afford to be
so, for her income amounts to 600,000 livres. Amboise was her jointure,
but she preferred Meudon.

She fell sick on the 28th March, 1719. I went to see her last Sunday,
the 23rd May, and found her in a sad state, suffering from pains in her
toes and the soles of her feet until the tears came into her eyes. I
went away because I saw that she refrained from crying out on my account.
I thought she was in a bad way. A consultation was held by her three
physicians, the result of which was that they determined to bleed her in
the feet. They had some difficulty in persuading her to submit to it,
because the pain in her feet was so great that she uttered the most
piercing screams if the bedclothes only rubbed against them. The
bleeding, however, succeeded, and she was in some degree relieved. It
was the gout in both feet.

The feet are now covered with swellings filled with water, which cause
her as much pain as if they were ulcers; she suffers day and night.
Whatever they may say, there has been no other swelling of the feet since
those blisters appeared. (13th June.)

The swelling has now entirely disappeared, but the pain is greater than
before. All the toes are covered with transparent blisters; she cries
out so that she may be heard three rooms off. The doctors now confess
they do not know what the disorder is. (20th June.) The King's surgeon
says it is rheumatic gout. (11th July.) I believe that frequent and
excessive bathing and gluttony have undermined her health. She has two
fits of fever daily, and the disease does not abate. She is not
impatient nor peevish; the emetic given to her the day before yesterday
causes her much pain; it seems that from time to time rheumatic pains
have affected her shoulders without her taking much notice of them. From
being very fat, as she was, she has become thin and meagre. Yesterday
she confessed, and received the communion. (18th July.) She was bled
thrice before she took the emetic. (Tuesday, 18th July.) She received
the last Sacrament with a firmness which deeply affected her attendants.
Between two and three o'clock this night (19th July) she died. Her end
was a very easy one; they say she died as if she had gone to sleep. My
son remained with her until she lost all consciousness, which was about
an hour before her death. She was his favourite daughter. The poor
Duchesse de Berri was as much the cause of her own death as if she had
blown her brains out, for she secretly ate melons, figs and milk; she
herself confessed, and her doctor told me, that she had closed her room
to him and to the other medical attendants for a fortnight that she might
indulge in this way. Immediately after the storm she began to die.
Yesterday evening she said to me: "Oh, Madame! that clap of thunder has
done me great harm;" and it was evident that it had made her worse.

My son has not been able to sleep. The poor Duchesse de Berri could not
have been saved; her brain was filled with water; she had an ulcer in the
stomach and another in the groin; her liver was affected, and her spleen
full of disease. She was taken by night to St. Denis, whither all her
household accompanied her corse. They were so much embarrassed about her
funeral oration that it was resolved ultimately not to pronounce one.

With all her wealth she has left my son 400,000 livres of debt to pay.
This poor Princess was horribly robbed and pillaged. You may imagine
what a race these favourites are; Mouchi, who enjoyed the greatest
favour, did not grieve for her mistress a single moment; she was playing
the flute at her window on the very day that the Princess was borne to
St. Denis, and went to a large dinner party in Paris, where she ate and
drank as if nothing had happened, at the same time talking in so
impertinent a manner as disgusted all the guests. My son desired her and
her husband to quit Paris.

My son's affliction is so much the greater since he perceives that,
if he had been less complying with his beloved daughter, and if he had
exercised somewhat more of a parent's authority, she would have been
alive and well at this time.

That Mouchi and her lover Riom have been playing fine tricks; they had
duplicate keys, and left the poor Duchess without a sou. I cannot
conceive what there is to love in this Riom; he has neither face nor
figure; he looks, with his green-and-yellow complexion, like a water
fiend; his mouth, nose and eyes are like those of a Chinese. He is more
like a baboon than a Gascon, which he is. He is a very dull person,
without the least pretensions to wit; he has a large head, which is sunk
between a pair of very broad shoulders, and his appearance is that of a
low-minded person; in short, he is a very ugly rogue.

And yet the toad does not come of bad blood; he is related to some of
the best families. The Duc de Lauzun is his uncle, and Biron his nephew.
He is, nevertheless, unworthy of the honour which was conferred on him;
for he was only a captain in the King's Guard. The women all ran after
him; but, for my part, I find him extremely disagreeable; he has an
unhealthy air and looks like one of the Indian figures upon a screen.

He was not here when Madame de Berri died, but was with the army, in the
regiment which had been bought for him. When the news of the Duchess's
death reached him the Prince de Conti went to seek Riom, and sang a
ridiculous song, my son was a little vexed at this, but he did not take
any notice of it.

There can be no doubt that the Duchess was secretly married to Riom; this
has consoled me in some degree for her loss. I had heard it said before,
and I made a representation upon the subject to my granddaughter.

She laughed, and replied: "Ah, Madame, I thought I had the honour of
being so well known to you that you could not believe me guilty of so
great a folly; I who am so much blamed for my pride."

This answer lulled my suspicions, and I no longer believed the story.
The father and mother would never have consented to this marriage; and
even if they had sanctioned such an impertinence I never would!

[The Duchess, with her usual violence, teased her father to have her
marriage made public; this was also Riom's most ardent desire, who
had married her solely from ambitious motives. The Regent had
despatched Riom to the army for the purpose of gaining time. One
daughter was the result of the connection between Riom and the
Duchesse de Berri, who was afterwards sent into a convent at
Pontoisse.]