Book: The Memoirs of Louis XIV., His Court and The Regency, Complete

D >> Duc de Saint Simon >> The Memoirs of Louis XIV., His Court and The Regency, Complete




The Marechal de Boufflers, who had never forgiven the causes that led to
the loss of Lille, joined in the attack on Chamillart; and assisted in
exciting the King against him. Chamillart has since related to me that
up to the last moment he had always been received equally graciously by
the King--that is, up to two days before his fall. Then, indeed, he
noticed that the King's countenance was embarrassed; and felt inclined to
ask if he was displeasing to him, and to offer to retire. Had he done
so, he might, if we may judge from what transpired subsequently, have
remained in office. But now Madame de Maintenon had come personally into
the field, and, believing herself sure of success, only attacked
Chamillart. What passed between her and the King was quite private and
never related; but there seems reason to believe that she did not succeed
without difficulty.

On Sunday morning, November 9, the King, on entering the Council of
State, called the Duc de Beauvilliers to him, and requested him to go in
the afternoon and tell Chamillart that he was obliged, for motives of
public interest, to ask him to resign his office; but that, in order to
give him a mark of his esteem and satisfaction with his services, he
continued his pension of Minister--that is to say, twenty thousand
francs--and added as much more, with one to his son of twenty thousand
francs likewise. He added that he should have liked to see Chamillart,
but that at first it would grieve him too much: he was not to come till
sent for; he might live in Paris, and go where he liked. The Duc de
Beauvilliers did all he could to escape from carrying so harsh a message,
but could only obtain permission to let the Duc de Chevreuse accompany
him.

They went to Chamillart, and found him alone, working in his cabinet.
The air of consternation with which they entered, told the unfortunate
Minister that something disagreeable had happened; and without giving
them time to speak, he said, with a serene and tranquil countenance,
"What is the matter, gentlemen? If what you have to say concerns only
me, you may speak: I have long been prepared for everything." This
gentle firmness touched them still more. They could scarcely explain
what they came about. Chamillart listened without any change of
countenance, and said, with the same air and tone as at first: "The King
is the master. I have endeavoured to serve him to the best of my
ability. I hope some one else will please him better, and be more
lucky." He then asked if he had been forbidden to write to the King, and
being told not, he wrote a letter of respect and thanks, and sent it by
the two Dukes, with a memoir which he had just finished. He also wrote
to Madame de Maintenon. He sent a verbal message to his wife; and,
without complaint, murmur, or sighs, got into his carriage, and drove to
L'Etang. Both then and afterwards he showed the greatest magnanimity.
Every one went, from a sort of fashion, to visit him. When I went, the
house looked as if a death had taken place; and it was frightful to see,
in the midst of cries and tears, the dead man walking, speaking with a
quiet, gentle air, and serene brow,--unconstrained, unaffected, attentive
to every one, not at all or scarcely different from what he was
accustomed to be.

Chamillart, as I have said, had received permission to live at Paris, if
he liked; but soon afterwards he innocently gave umbrage to Madame de
Maintenon, who was annoyed that his disgrace was not followed by general
abandonment. She caused him to be threatened secretly, and he prudently
left Paris, and went far away, under pretence of seeking for an estate to
buy.

Next day after the fall of Chamillart, it became known that the triumph
of Madame de Maintenon was completed, and that Voysin, her creature, was
the succeeding Secretary of State. This Voysin had the one indispensable
quality for admission into the counsels of Louis XIV.--not a drop of
noble blood in his veins. He had married, in 1683, the daughter of
Trudaine. She had a very agreeable countenance, without any affectation.
She appeared simple and modest, and occupied with her household and good
works; but in reality, had sense, wit, cleverness, above all, a natural
insinuation, and the art of bringing things to pass without being
perceived. She kept with great tact a magnificent house. It was she who
received Madame de Maintenon at Dinan, when the King was besieging Namur;
and, as she had been instructed by M. de Luxembourg in the way to please
that lady, succeeded most effectually. Among her arts was her modesty,
which led her prudently to avoid pressing herself on Madame de Maintenon,
or showing herself more than was absolutely necessary. She was sometimes
two whole days without seeing her. A trifle, luckily contrived, finished
the conquest of Madame de Maintenon. It happened that the weather passed
suddenly from excessive heat to a damp cold, which lasted a long time.
Immediately, an excellent dressing-gown, simple, and well lined, appeared
in the corner of the chamber. This present, by so much the more
agreeable, as Madame de Maintenon had not brought any warm clothing,
touched her also by its suddenness, and by its simple appearance, as if
of its own accord.

In this way, the taste of Madame de Maintenon for Madame Voysin was
formed and increased. Madame Voysin obtained an appointment for her
husband, and coming to Paris, at last grew extremely familiar with Madame
de Maintenon. Voysin himself had much need of the wife that Providence
had given him. He was perfectly ignorant of everything but the duties of
an Intendant. He was, moreover, rough and uncivil, as the courtiers soon
found. He was never unjust for the sake of being so, nor was he bad
naturally; but he knew nothing but authority, the King and Madame de
Maintenon, whose will was unanswerable--his sovereign law and reason.
The choice was settled between the King and Madame de Maintenon after
supper, the day of Chamillart's fall. Voysin was conducted to the King
by Bloin, after having received the orders and instructions of his
benefactress. In the evening of that day, the King found Madame Voysin
with Madame de Maintenon, and kissed her several times to please his
lady.

Voysin's first experience of the duties of his office was unpleasant.
He was foolish enough, feeling his ignorance, to tell the King, that at
the outset he should be obliged to leave everything to his Majesty, but
that when he knew better, he would take more on himself. The King, to
whom Chamillart used himself to leave everything, was much offended by
this language; and drawing himself up, in the tone of a master, told
Voysin to learn, once for all, that his duties were to receive, and
expedite orders, nothing else. He then took the projects brought to him,
examined them, prescribed the measures he thought fit, and very stiffly
sent away Voysin, who did not know where he was, and had great want of
his wife to set his head to rights, and of Madame de Maintenon to give
him completer lessons than she had yet been able to do. Shortly
afterwards he was forbidden to send any orders without submitting them to
the Marechal de Boufflers. He was supple, and sure of Madame de
Maintenon, and through her of the Marechal, waited for time to release
him from this state of tutelage and showed nothing of his annoyance,
especially to Boufflers himself.

Events soon happened to alter the position of the Marechal de Boufflers.

Flanders, ever since the opening of the campaign, had been the principal
object of attention. Prince Eugene and Marlborough, joined together,
continued their vast designs, and disdained to hide them. Their
prodigious preparations spoke of sieges. Shall I say that we desired
them, and that we thought of nothing but how to preserve, not use our
army?

Tournai was the first place towards which the enemies directed their
arms. After a short resistance it fell into their hands. Villars, as I
have said, was coriander in Flanders. Boufflers feeling that, in the
position of affairs, such a post must weigh very heavily upon one man,
and that in case of his death there was no one to take his place, offered
to go to assist him. The King, after some little hesitation, accepted
this magnanimous offer, and Boufflers set out. I say magnanimous offer,
because Boufflers, loaded with honours and glory, might well have hoped
to pass the rest of his life in repose. It was hardly possible, do what
he might, that he could add to his reputation; while, on the other hand,
it was not unlikely that he might be made answerable for the faults or
shortcomings of others, and return to Paris stripped of some of the
laurels that adorned his brow. But he thought only of the welfare of the
State, and pressed the King to allow him to depart to Flanders. The
King, as I have said, at last consented.

The surprise was great in the army when he arrived there. The general
impression was that he was the bearer of news of peace. Villars received
him with an air of joy and respect, and at once showed every willingness
to act in concert with him. The two generals accordingly worked
harmoniously together, taking no steps without consulting each other, and
showing great deference for each other's opinions. They were like one
man.


[Illustration: Marlborough At Malplaquet--Painted by R. Canton
Woodville--596]


After the fall of Tournai, our army took up position at Malplaquet, the
right and the left supported by two woods, with hedges and woods before
the centre, so that the plain was, as it were, cut in two. Marlborough
and Prince Eugene marched in their turn, fearing lest Villars should
embarrass them as they went towards Mons, which place they had resolved
to besiege. They sent on a large detachment of their army, under the
command of the Prince of Hesse, to watch ours. He arrived in sight of
the camp at Malpladuet at the same time that we entered it, and was
quickly warned of our existence by, three cannon shots that Villars, out
of braggadocio, fired by way of appeal to Marlborough and Prince Eugene.
Some little firing took place this day and the next, the 10th of
September, but without doing much harm on either side.

Marlborough and Prince Eugene, warned of the perilous state in which the
Prince of Hesse was placed--he would have been lost if attacked hastened
at once to join him, and arrived in the middle of the morning of the
10th. Their first care was to examine the position of our army, and to
do so, while waiting for their rear-guard, they employed a stratagem
which succeeded admirably.

They sent several officers, who had the look of subalterns, to our lines,
and asked to be allowed to speak to our officers. Their request was
granted. Albergotti came down to them, and discoursed with them a long
time. They pretended they came to see whether peace could not be
arranged, but they, in reality, spoke of little but compliments, which
signified nothing. They stayed so long, under various pretexts, that at
last we were obliged to threaten them in order to get rid of them. All
this time a few of their best general officers on horseback, and a larger
number of engineers and designers on foot, profited by these ridiculous
colloquies to put upon paper drawings of our position, thus being able to
see the best positions for their cannon, and the best mode, in fact, in
which all their disposition might be made. We learnt this artifice
afterwards from the prisoners.

It was decided that evening to give us battle on the morrow, although the
deputies of the States-General, content with the advantages that had been
already gained, and not liking to run the risk of failure, were, opposed
to an action taking place. They were, however, persuaded to agree, and
on the following morning the battle began.

The struggle lasted many hours. But our position had been badly chosen,
and, in spite of every effort, we were unable to maintain it. Villars,
in the early part of the action, received a wound which incapacitated him
from duty. All the burden of command fell upon Boufflers. He bore it
well; but after a time finding his army dispersed, his infantry
overwhelmed, the ground slipping from under his feet, he thought only of
beating a good and honourable retreat. He led away his army in such good
order, that the enemy were unable to interfere with it in the slightest
degree. During all the march, which lasted until night, we did not lose
a hundred stragglers, and carried off all the cannon with the exception
of a few pieces. The enemy passed the night upon the battle-field, in
the midst of twenty-five thousand dead, and marched towards Mons the next
evening. They frankly admitted that in men killed and wounded, in
general officers and privates, in flags and standards, they had lost more
than we. The battle cost them, in fact, seven lieutenant-generals, five
other generals, about eighteen hundred officers killed or wounded, and
more than fifteen thousand men killed or rendered unfit for service.
They openly avowed, also, how much they had been surprised by the valour
of the majority of our troops, above all of the cavalry, and did not
dissimulate that we should have gained the day, had we been better led.

Why the Marechal Villars waited ten days to be attacked in a position so
disadvantageous, instead of at once marching upon the enemies and
overcoming, as he might at first easily have done, it is difficult to
understand. He threw all the blame upon his wound, although it was well
known that the fate of the day was decided long before he was hurt.

Although forced to retire, our men burned with eagerness to engage the
enemies again. Mons had been laid siege to. Boufflers tried to make the
besiegers give up the undertaking. But his men were without bread and
without pay: the subaltern officers were compelled to eat the regulation
bread, the general-officers were reduced to the most miserable shifts,
and were like the privates, without pay, oftentimes for seven or eight
days running. There was no meat and no bread for the army. The common
soldiers were reduced to herbs and roots for all sustenance. Under
these circumstances it was found impossible to persevere in trying to
save Mons. Nothing but subsistence could be thought of.

The Court had now become so accustomed to defeats that a battle lost as
was Malplaquet seemed half a victory. Boufflers sent a courier to the
King with an account of the event, and spoke so favourably of Villars,
that all the blame of the defeat fell upon himself. Villars was
everywhere pitied and applauded, although he had lost an important
battle: when it was in his power to beat the enemies in detail, and
render them unable to undertake the siege of Mons, or any other siege.
If Boufflers was indignant at this, he was still more indignant at what
happened afterwards. In the first dispatch he sent to the King he
promised to send another as soon as possible giving full details, with
propositions as to how the vacancies which had occurred in the army might
be filled up. On the very evening he sent off his second dispatch, he
received intelligence that the King had already taken his dispositions
with respect to these vacancies, without having consulted him upon a
single point. This was the first reward Boufflers received for the
services he had just rendered, and that, too, from a King who had said in
public that without Boufflers all was lost, and that assuredly it was God
who had inspired him with the idea of going to the army. From that time
Boufflers fell into a disgrace from which he never recovered. He had the
courage to appear as usual at the Court; but a worm was gnawing him
within and destroyed him. Oftentimes he opened his heart to me without
rashness, and without passing the strict limits of his virtue; but the
poniard was in his heart, and neither time nor reflection could dull its
edge. He did nothing but languish afterwards, yet without being confined
to his bed or to his chamber, but did not live more than two years.
Villars, on the contrary, was in greater favour than ever. He arrived at
Court triumphant. The King made him occupy an apartment at Versailles,
so that his wound might be well attended to.

What a contrast! What a difference between the services, the merit, the
condition, the virtue, the situation of these two men! What
inexhaustible funds of reflection.



CHAPTER L

I have described in its proper place the profound fall of M. le Duc
d'Orleans and the neglect in which he lived, out of all favour with the
King, hated by Madame de Maintenon and Monseigneur, and regarded with an
unfavourable eye by the public, on account of the scandals of his private
life. I had long seen that the only way in which he could hope to
recover his position would be to give up his mistress, Madame d'Argenton,
with whom he had been on terms of intimacy for many years past, to the
knowledge and the scandal of all the world. I knew it would be a bold
and dangerous game to play, to try to persuade him to separate himself
from a woman he had known and loved so long; but I determined to engage
in it, nevertheless, and I looked about for some one to assist me in this
enterprise. At once I cast my eyes upon the Marechal de Besons, who for
many long years had been the bosom friend of M. d'Orleans. He applauded
the undertaking, but doubted, he said, its success; nevertheless he
promised to aid me to the utmost of his power, and, it will be seen, was
as good as his word. For some time I had no opportunity of accosting M.
d'Orleans, and was obliged to keep my project in abeyance, but I did not
lose sight of it; and when I saw my way clear, I took the matter in hand,
determined to strain every nerve in order to succeed.

It was just at the commencement of the year 1710, that I first spoke to
M. d'Orleans. I began by extracting from him an admission of the neglect
into which he had fallen--the dislike of the King, the hatred of
Monseigneur, who accused him of wishing to replace his son in Spain; that
of Madame de Maintenon, whom he had offended by his bon mot; the
suspicions of the public, who talked of his chemical experiments--and
then, throwing off all fear of consequences, I said that before he could
hope to draw back his friends and the world to him, he must reinstate
himself in the favour of the King. He appeared struck with what I had
said, rose after a profound silence, paced to and fro, and then asked,
"But how?" Seeing the opportunity so good, I replied in a firm and
significant tone, "How? I know well enough, but I will never tell you;
and yet it is the only thing to do."--"Ah, I understand you," said he, as
though struck with a thunderbolt; "I understand you perfectly;" and he
threw himself upon the chair at the end of the room. There he remained
some time, without speaking a word, yet agitated and sighing, and with
his eyes lowered. I broke silence at last, by saying that the state
which he was in had touched me to the quick, and that I had determined in
conjunction with the Marechal de Besons to speak to him upon the subject,
and to propose the only means by which he could hope to bring about a
change in his position. He considered some time, and then giving me
encouragement to proceed, I entered at some length upon the proposal I
had to make to him and left him evidently affected by what I had said,
when I thought I had for the time gone far enough.

The next day, Thursday, January 2nd, Besons, to whom I had written,
joined me; and after I had communicated to him what had passed the
previous evening, we hastened to M. d'Orleans. He received us well, and
we at once commenced an attack. In order to aid my purpose as much as
possible, I repeated to M. d'Orleans, at this meeting, the odious reports
that were in circulation against him, viz., that he intended to repudiate
his wife forced upon him by the King, in order to marry the Queen Dowager
of Spain, and by means of her gold to open up a path for himself to the
Spanish throne; that he intended to wait for his new wife's death, and
then marry Madame D'ARGENSON, to whom the genii had promised a throne;
and I added, that it was very fortunate that the Duchesse d'Orleans had
safely passed through the dangers of her confinement, for already some
wretches had begun to spread the saying, that he was not the son of
Monsieur for nothing. (An allusion to the death of Henriette
d'Angleterre.)

On hearing these words, the Duke was seized with a terror that cannot be
described, and at the same time with a grief that is above expression.
I took advantage of the effect my discourse had had upon him to show how
necessary it was he should make a great effort in order to win back the
favour of the King and of the public. I represented to him that the only
way to do this was to give up Madame d'Argenton, at once and for ever,
and to announce to the King that he had done so. At first he would not
hear of such a step, and I was obliged to employ all my eloquence, and
all my firmness too, to make him listen to reason. One great obstacle in
our way was the repugnance of M. d'Orleans for his wife. He had been
married, as I have described in the early part of these memoirs, against
his will, and with no sort of affection for the woman he was given to.
It was natural that he should look upon her with dislike ever since she
had become his wife. I did what I could to speak in praise of Madame la
Duchesse d'Orleans, and Besons aided me; but we did little else than
waste our breath for sometime. Our praises in fact irritated
M. d'Orleans, and to such a point, that no longer screening things or
names, he told us what we should have wished not to hear, but what it was
very lucky we did hear. He had suspicions, in fact, of his wife's
honour; but fortunately I was able to prove clearly and decisively that
those suspicions were unfounded, and I did so. The joy of M. d'Orleans
upon finding he had been deceived was great indeed; and when we separated
from him after mid-day, in order to go to dinner, I saw that a point was
gained.

A little before three o'clock I returned to M. d'Orleans, whom I found
alone in his cabinet with Besons. He received me with pleasure, and made
me seat myself between him and the Marechal, whom he complimented upon
his diligence. Our conversation recommenced. I returned to the attack
with all the arguments I could muster, and the Marechal supported me; but
I saw with affright that M. d'Orleans was less reduced than when we had
quitted him in the morning, and that he had sadly taken breath during our
short absence. I saw that, if we were to succeed, we must make the best
use we could of our time, and accordingly I brought all my powers into
play in order to gain over M. d'Orleans.

Feeling that everything was now to be lost or gained, I spoke out with
all the force of which I was capable, surprising and terrifying Marechal
Besons to such a point, with my hardihood, that he had not a word to say
in order to aid me. When I had finished, M. d'Orleans thanked me in a
piteous tone, by which I knew the profound impression I had made upon his
mind. I proposed, while he was still shaken, that he should at once send
to Madame de Maintenon, to know when she, would grant him an audience;
for he had determined to speak to her first of his intention to give up
Madame d'Argenton. Besons seconded me; and while we were talking
together, not daring to push our point farther, M. d'Orleans much
astonished us by rising, running with impetuosity to the door, and
calling aloud for his servants. One ran to him, whom he ordered in a
whisper to go to Madame de Maintenon, to ask at what hour she would see
him on the morrow. He returned immediately, and threw himself into a
chair like a man whose strength fails him and who is at his last gasp.
Uncertain as to what he had just done, I asked him if he had sent to
Madame de Maintenon. "Yes, Monsieur," said he, in a tone of despair.
Instantly I started towards him, and thanked him with all the contentment
and all the joy imaginable. This terrible interview, for the struggle we
had all gone through was very great, was soon after brought to a close,
and Besons and myself went our way, congratulating each other on the
success of this day's labour.

On the next day, Friday, the 3rd of January, I saw M. d'Orleans as he
preceded the King to mass, and in my impatience I approached him, and
speaking in a low tone, asked him if he had seen "that woman." I did not
dare to mention names just then. He replied "yes," but in so
lackadaisical a tone that I feared he had seen her to effect, and I asked
him if he had spoken to her. Upon receiving another "yes," like the
other, my emotion redoubled. "But have you told her all?" I said.
"Yes," he replied, "I have told her all."--"And are you content?" said
I. "Nobody could be more so," he replied; "I was nearly an hour with
her, she was very much surprised and ravished."

Copyright (c) 2007. knowncrafts.net. All rights reserved.