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

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To explain this pretension of M. de Luxembourg, I must give some details
respecting him and the family whose name he bore. He was the only son of
M. de Bouteville, and had married a descendant of Francois de Luxembourg,
Duke of Piney, created Peer of France in 1581. It was a peerage which,
in default of male successors, went to the female, but this descendant
was not heir to it. She was the child of a second marriage, and by a
first marriage her mother had given birth to a son and a daughter, who
were the inheritors of the peerage, both of whom were still living. The
son was, however, an idiot, had been declared incapable of attending to
his affairs, and was shut up in Saint Lazare, at Paris. The daughter had
taken the veil, and was mistress of the novices at the Abbaye-aux-Bois.
The peerage had thus, it might almost be said, become extinct, for it was
vested in an idiot, who could not marry (to prevent him doing so, he had
been made a deacon, and he was bound in consequence to remain single),
and in a nun, who was equally bound by her vows to the same state of
celibacy.

When M. de Bouteville, for that was his only title then, married, he took
the arms and the name of Luxembourg. He did more. By powerful
influence--notably that of his patron the Prince de Conde--he released
the idiot deacon from his asylum, and the nun from her convent, and
induced them both to surrender to him their possessions and their titles.
This done, he commenced proceedings at once in order to obtain legal
recognition of his right to the dignities he had thus got possession of.
He claimed to be acknowledged Duc de Piney, with all the privileges
attached to that title as a creation of 1581. Foremost among these
privileges was that of taking precedence of all dukes whose title did not
go back so far as that year. Before any decision was given either for or
against this claim, he was made Duc de Piney by new letters patent,
dating from 1662, with a clause which left his pretensions to the title
of 1581 by no means affected by this new creation. M. de Luxembourg,
however, seemed satisfied with what he had obtained, and was apparently
disposed to pursue his claim no further. He was received as Duke and
Peer in the Parliament, took his seat in the last rank after all the
other peers, and allowed his suit to drop. Since then he had tried
successfully to gain it by stealth, but for several years nothing more
had been heard of it. Now, however, he recommenced it, and with every
intention, as we soon found, to stop at no intrigue or baseness in order
to carry his point.

Nearly everybody was in his favour. The Court, though not the King, was
almost entirely for him; and the town, dazzled by the splendour of his
exploits, was devoted to him. The young men regarded him as the
protector of their debauches; for, notwithstanding his age, his conduct
was as free as theirs. He had captivated the troops and the general
officers.

In the Parliament he had a staunch supporter in Harlay, the Chief
President, who led that great body at his will, and whose devotion he had
acquired to such a degree, that he believed that to undertake and succeed
were only the same things, and that this grand affair would scarcely cost
him a winter to carry.

Let me say something more of this Harlay.

Descended from two celebrated magistrates, Achille d'Harlay and
Christopher De Thou, Harlay imitated their gravity, but carried it to a
cynical extent, affected their disinterestedness and modesty, but
dishonoured the first by his conduct, and the second by a refined pride
which he endeavoured without success to conceal. He piqued himself,
above all things, upon his probity and justice, but the mask soon fell.
Between Peter and Paul he maintained the strictest fairness, but as soon
as he perceived interest or favour to be acquired, he sold himself. This
trial will show him stripped of all disguise. He was learned in the law;
in letters he was second to no one; he was well acquainted with history,
and knew how, above all, to govern his company with an authority which
suffered no reply, and which no other chief president had ever attained.

A pharisaical austerity rendered him redoubtable by the license he
assumed in his public reprimands, whether to plaintiffs, or defendants,
advocates or magistrates; so that there was not a single person who did
not tremble to have to do with him. Besides this, sustained in all by
the Court (of which he was the slave, and the very humble servant of
those who were really in favour), a subtle courtier, a singularly crafty
politician, he used all those talents solely to further his ambition, his
desire of domination and his thirst of the reputation of a great man.
He was without real honour, secretly of corrupt manners, with only
outside probity, without humanity even; in one word, a perfect hypocrite;
without faith, without law, without a God, and without a soul; a cruel
husband, a barbarous father, a tyrannical brother, a friend of himself
alone, wicked by nature--taking pleasure in insulting, outraging, and
overwhelming others, and never in his life having lost an occasion to do
so. His wit was great, but was always subservient to his wickedness.
He was small, vigorous, and thin, with a lozenge-shaped face, a long
aquiline nose--fine, speaking, keen eyes, that usually looked furtively
at you, but which, if fixed on a client or a magistrate, were fit to make
him sink into the earth. He wore narrow robes, an almost ecclesiastical
collar and wristband to match, a brown wig mimed with white, thickly
furnished but short, and with a great cap over it. He affected a bending
attitude, and walked so, with a false air, more humble than modest, and
always shaved along the walls, to make people make way for him with
greater noise; and at Versailles worked his way on by a series of
respectful and, as it were, shame-faced bows to the right and left. He
held to the King and to Madame de Maintenon by knowing their weak side;
and it was he who, being consulted upon the unheard-of legitimation of
children without naming the mother, had sanctioned that illegality in
favour of the King.

Such was the man whose influence was given entirely to our opponent.

To assist M. de Luxembourg's case as much as possible, the celebrated
Racine, so known by his plays, and by the order he had received at that
time to write the history of the King, was employed to polish and
ornament his pleas. Nothing was left undone by M. de Luxembourg in order
to gain this cause.

I cannot give all the details of the case, the statements made on both
sides, and the defences; they would occupy entire volumes. We maintained
that M. de Luxembourg was in no way entitled to the precedence he
claimed, and we had both law and justice on our side. To give
instructions to our counsel, and to follow the progress of the case,
we met once a week, seven or eight of us at least, those best disposed
to give our time to the matter. Among the most punctual was M. de la
Rochefoucauld. I had been solicited from the commencement to take part
in the proceedings, and I complied most willingly, apologising for so
doing to M. de Luxembourg, who replied with all the politeness and
gallantry possible, that I could not do less than follow an example my
father had set me.

The trial having commenced, we soon saw how badly disposed the Chief
President was towards us. He obstructed us in every way, and acted
against all rules. There seemed no other means of defeating his evident
intention of judging against us than by gaining time, first of all; and
to do this we determined to get the case adjourned, There were, however,
only two days at our disposal, and that was not enough in order to comply
with the forms required for such a step. We were all in the greatest
embarrassment, when it fortunately came into the head of one of our
lawyers to remind us of a privilege we possessed, by which, without much
difficulty, we could obtain what we required. I was the only one who
could, at that moment, make use of this privilege. I hastened home, at
once, to obtain the necessary papers, deposited them with the procureur
of M. de Luxembourg, and the adjournment was obtained. The rage of M. de
Luxembourg was without bounds. When we met he would not salute me, and
in consequence I discontinued to salute him; by which he lost more than
I, in his position and at his age, and furnished in the rooms and the
galleries of Versailles a sufficiently ridiculous spectacle. In addition
to this he quarrelled openly with M. de Richelieu, and made a bitter
attack upon him in one of his pleas. But M. de Richelieu, meeting him
soon after in the Salle des Gardes at Versailles, told him to his face
that he should soon have a reply; and said that he feared him neither on
horseback nor on foot--neither him nor his crew--neither in town nor at
the Court, nor even in the army, nor in any place in the world; and
without allowing time for a reply he turned on his heel. In the end, M.
de Luxembourg found himself so closely pressed that he was glad to
apologise to M. de Richelieu.

After a time our cause, sent back again to the Parliament, was argued
there with the same vigour, the same partiality, and the same injustice
as before: seeing this, we felt that the only course left open to us was
to get the case sent before the Assembly of all the Chambers, where the
judges, from their number, could not be corrupted by M. de Luxembourg,
and where the authority of Harlay was feeble, while over the Grand
Chambre, in which the case was at present, it was absolute. The
difficulty was to obtain an assembly of all the Chambers, for the power
of summoning them was vested solely in Harlay. However, we determined to
try and gain his consent. M. de Chaulnes undertook to go upon this
delicate errand, and acquitted himself well of his mission. He pointed
out to Harlay that everybody was convinced of his leaning towards M. de
Luxembourg, and that the only way to efface the conviction that had gone
abroad was to comply with our request; in fine, he used so many
arguments, and with such address, that Harlay, confused and thrown off
his guard, and repenting of the manner in which he had acted towards us
as being likely to injure his interests, gave a positive assurance to M.
de Chaulnes that what we asked should be granted.

We had scarcely finished congratulating ourselves upon this unhoped-for
success, when we found that we had to do with a man whose word was a very
sorry support to rest upon. M. de Luxembourg, affrighted at the promise
Harlay had given, made him resolve to break it. Suspecting this, M. de
Chaulnes paid another visit to the Chief President, who admitted, with
much confusion, that he had changed his views, and that it was impossible
to carry out what he had agreed to. After this we felt that to treat any
longer with a man so perfidious would be time lost; and we determined,
therefore, to put it out of his power to judge the case at all.

According to the received maxim, whoever is at law with the son cannot be
judged by the father. Harlay had a son who was Advocate-General. We
resolved that one among us should bring an action against him.

After trying in vain to induce the Duc de Rohan, who was the only one of
our number who could readily have done it, to commence a suit against
Harlay's sort, we began to despair of arriving at our aim. Fortunately
for us, the vexation of Harlay became so great at this time, in
consequence of the disdain with which we treated him, and which we openly
published, that he extricated us himself from our difficulty. We had
only to supplicate the Duc de Gesvres in the cause (he said to some of
our people), and we should obtain what we wanted; for the Duc de Gesvres
was his relative. We took him at his word. The Duc de Gesvres received
in two days a summons on our part. Harlay, annoyed with himself for the
advice he had given, relented of it: but it was too late; he was declared
unable to judge the cause, and the case itself was postponed until the
next year.

Meanwhile, let me mention a circumstance which should have found a place
before, and then state what occurred in the interval which followed until
the trial recommenced.

It was while our proceedings were making some little stir that fresh
favours were heaped upon the King's illegitimate sons, at the instance of
the King himself, and with the connivance of Harlay, who, for the part he
took in the affair, was promised the chancellorship when it should become
vacant. The rank of these illegitimate sons was placed just below that
of the princes, of the blood, and just above that of the peers even of
the oldest creation. This gave us all exceeding annoyance: it was the
greatest injury the peerage could have received, and became its leprosy
and sore. All the peers who could, kept themselves aloof from the
parliament, when M. du Maine, M. de Vendome, and the Comte de Toulouse,
for whom this arrangement was specially made, were received there.

There were several marriages at the Court this winter and many very fine
balls, at which latter I danced. By the spring, preparations were ready
for fresh campaigns. My regiment (I had bought one at the close of the
last season) was ordered to join the army of M. de Luxembourg; but, as I
had no desire to be under him, I wrote to the King, begging to be
exchanged. In a short time, to the great vexation, as I know, of M. de
Luxembourg, my request was granted. The Chevalier de Sully went to
Flanders in my place, and I to Germany in his. I went first to Soissons
to see my regiment, and in consequence of the recommendation of the King,
was more severe with it than I should otherwise have been. I set out
afterwards for Strasbourg, where I was surprised with the magnificence of
the town, and with the number, beauty, and grandeur of its
fortifications. As from my youth I knew and spoke German perfectly, I
sought out one of my early German acquaintances, who gave me much
pleasure. I stopped six days at Strasbourg and then went by the Rhine to
Philipsburg. On the next day after arriving there, I joined the cavalry,
which was encamped at Obersheim.

After several movements--in which we passed and repassed the Rhine--but
which led to no effective result, we encamped for forty days at Gaw-
Boecklheim, one of the best and most beautiful positions in the world,
and where we had charming weather, although a little disposed to cold.
It was in the leisure of that long camp that I commenced these memoirs,
incited by the pleasure I took in reading those of Marshal Bassompierre,
which invited me thus to write what I should see in my own time.

During this season M. de Noailles took Palamos, Girone, and the fortress
of Castel-Follit in Catalonia. This last was taken by the daring of a
soldier, who led on a small number of his comrades, and carried the place
by assault. Nothing was done in Italy; and in Flanders M. de Luxembourg
came to no engagement with the Prince of Orange.




CHAPTER VI

After our long rest at the camp of Gaw-Boecklheim we again put ourselves
in movement, but without doing much against the enemy, and on the 16th of
October I received permission to return to Paris. Upon my arrival there
I learnt that many things had occurred since I left. During that time
some adventures had happened to the Princesses, as the three illegitimate
daughters of the King were called for distinction sake. Monsieur wished
that the Duchesse de Chartres should always call the others "sister," but
that the others should never address her except as "Madame." The
Princesse de Conti submitted to this; but the other (Madame la Duchesse,
being the produce of the same love) set herself to call the Duchesse de
Chartres "mignonne." But nothing was less a mignonne than her face and
her figure; and Monsieur, feeling the ridicule, complained to the King.
The King prohibited very severely this familiarity.

While at Trianon these Princesses took it into their heads to walk out
at night and divert themselves with crackers. Either from malice or
imprudence they let off some one night under the windows of Monsieur,
rousing him thereby out of his sleep. He was so displeased, that he
complained to the King, who made him many excuses (scolding the
Princesses), but had great trouble to appease him. His anger lasted a
long time, and the Duchesse de Chartres felt it. I do not know if the
other two were very sorry. Madame la Duchesse was accused of writing
some songs upon the Duchesse de Chartres.

The Princesse de Conti had another adventure, which made considerable
noise, and which had great results. She had taken into her favour
Clermont, ensign of the gensdarmes and of the Guard. He had pretended to
be enamoured of her, and had not been repelled, for she soon became in
love with him. Clermont had attached himself to the service of M. de
Luxembourg, and was the merest creature in his hands. At the instigation
of M. de Luxembourg, he turned away his regards from the Princesse de
Conti, and fixed them upon one of her maids of honour--Mademoiselle
Choin, a great, ugly, brown, thick-set girl, upon whom Monseigneur had
lately bestowed his affection. Monseigneur made no secret of this, nor
did she. Such being the case, it occurred to M. de Luxembourg (who knew
he was no favourite with the King, and who built all his hopes of the
future upon Monseigneur) that Clermont, by marrying La Choin, might thus
secure the favour of Monseigneur, whose entire confidence she possessed.
Clermont was easily persuaded that this would be for him a royal road to
fortune, and he accordingly entered willingly into the scheme, which had
just begun to move, when the campaign commenced, and everybody went away
to join the armies.

The King, who partly saw this intrigue, soon made himself entirely master
of it, by intercepting the letters which passed between the various
parties. He read there the project of Clermont and La Choin to marry,
and thus govern Monseigneur; he saw how M. de Luxembourg was the soul of
this scheme, and the marvels to himself he expected from it. The letters
Clermont had received from the Princesse de Conti he now sent to
Mademoiselle la Choin, and always spoke to her of Monseigneur as their
"fat friend." With this correspondence in his hands, the King one day
sent for the Princesse de Conti, said in a severe tone that he knew of
her weakness for Clermont; and, to prove to her how badly she had placed
her affection, showed her her own letters to Clermont, and letters in
which he had spoken most contemptuously of her to La Choin. Then, as a
cruel punishment, he made her read aloud to him the whole of those
letters. At this she almost died, and threw herself, bathed in tears, at
the feet of the King, scarcely able to articulate. Then came sobs,
entreaty, despair, and rage, and cries for justice and revenge. This was
soon obtained. Mademoiselle la Choin was driven away the next day; and
M. de Luxembourg had orders to strip Clermont of his office, and send him
to the most distant part of the kingdom. The terror of M. de Luxembourg
and the Prince de Conti at this discovery may be imagined. Songs
increased the notoriety of this strange adventure between the Princess
and her confidant.

M. de Noyon had furnished on my return another subject for the song-
writers, and felt it the more sensibly because everybody was diverted at
his expense, M. de Noyon was extremely vain, and afforded thereby much
amusement to the King. A Chair was vacant at the Academic Francaise.
The King wished it to be given to M. de Noyon, and expressed himself to
that effect to Dangeau, who was a member. As may be believed, the
prelate was elected without difficulty. His Majesty testified to the
Prince de Conde, and to the most distinguished persons of the Court, that
he should be glad to see them at the reception. Thus M. de Noyon was the
first member of the Academia chosen by the King, and the first at whose
reception he had taken the trouble to invite his courtiers to attend.

The Abbe de Caumartin was at that time Director of the Academie. He knew
the vanity of M. de Noyon, and determined to divert the public at his
expense. He had many friends in power, and judged that his pleasantry
would be overlooked, and even approved. He composed, therefore, a
confused and bombastic discourse in the style of M. de Noyon, full of
pompous phrases, turning the prelate into ridicule, while they seemed to
praise him. After finishing this work, he was afraid lest it should be
thought out of all measure, and, to reassure himself, carried it to M. de
Noyon himself, as a scholar might to his master, in order to see whether
it fully met with his approval. M. de Noyon, so far from suspecting
anything, was charmed by the discourse, and simply made a few corrections
in the style. The Abbe de Caumartin rejoiced at the success of the snare
he had laid, and felt quite bold enough to deliver his harangue.

The day came. The Academie was crowded. The King and the Court were
there, all expecting to be diverted. M. de Noyon, saluting everybody
with a satisfaction he did not dissimulate, made his speech with his
usual confidence, and in his usual style. The Abbe replied with a modest
air, and with a gravity and slowness that gave great effect to his
ridiculous discourse. The surprise and pleasure were general, and each
person strove to intoxicate M. de Noyon more and more, making him believe
that the speech of the Abbe was relished solely because it had so
worthily praised him. The prelate was delighted with the Abbe and the
public, and conceived not the slightest mistrust.

The noise which this occurrence made may be imagined, and the praises M.
de Noyon gave himself in relating everywhere what he had said, and what
had been replied to him. M. de Paris, to whose house he went, thus
triumphing, did not like him, and endeavoured to open his eyes to the
humiliation he had received. For some time M. de Noyon would not be
convinced of the truth; it was not until he had consulted with Pere la
Chaise that he believed it. The excess of rage and vexation succeeded
then to the excess of rapture he had felt. In this state he returned to
his house, and went the next day to Versailles. There he made the most
bitter complaints to the King, of the Abbe de Caumartin, by whose means
he had become the sport and laughing-stock of all the world.

The King, who had learned what had passed, was himself displeased. He
ordered Pontchartrain (who was related to Caumartin) to rebuke the Abbe,
and to send him a lettre de cachet, in order that he might go and ripen
his brain in his Abbey of Busay, in Brittany, and better learn there how
to speak and write. Pontchartrain executed the first part of his
commission, but not the second. He pointed out to the King that the
speech of the Abbe de Caumartin had been revised and corrected by M. de
Noyon, and that, therefore, this latter had only himself to blame in the
matter. He declared, too, that the Abbe was very sorry for what he had
done, and was most willing to beg pardon of M. de Noyon. The lettre de
cachet thus fell to the ground, but not the anger of the prelate. He was
so outraged that he would not see the Abbe, retired into his diocese to
hide his shame, and remained there a long time.

Upon his return to Paris, however, being taken ill, before consenting to
receive the sacraments, he sent for the Abbe, embraced him, pardoned him,
and gave him a diamond ring, that he drew from his finger, and that he
begged him to keep in memory of him. Nay, more, when he was cured, he
used all his influence to reinstate the Abbe in the esteem of the King.
But the King could never forgive what had taken place, and M. de Noyon,
by this grand action, gained only the favour of God and the honour of the
world.

I must finish the account of the war of this year with a strange
incident. M. de Noailles, who had been so successful in Catalonia, was
on very bad terms with Barbezieux, secretary of state for the war
department. Both were in good favour with the King; both high in power,
both spoiled. The successes in Catalonia had annoyed Barbezieux. They
smoothed the way for the siege of Barcelona, and that place once taken,
the very heart of Spain would have been exposed, and M. de Noailles would
have gained fresh honours and glory. M. de Noailles felt this so
completely that he had pressed upon the King the siege of Barcelona; and
when the fitting time came for undertaking it, sent a messenger to him
with full information of the forces and supplies he required. Fearing
that if he wrote out this information it might fall into the hands of
Barbezieux, and never reach the King, he simply gave his messenger
instructions by word of mouth, and charged him to deliver them so. But
the very means he had taken to ensure success brought about failure.
Barbezieux, informed by his spies of the departure of the messenger,
waylaid him, bribed him, and induced him to act with the blackest
perfidy, by telling the King quite a different story to that he was
charged with. In this way, the project for the siege of Barcelona was
entirely broken, at the moment for its execution, and with the most
reasonable hopes of success; and upon M. de Noailles rested all the
blame. What a thunderbolt this was for him may easily be imagined. But
the trick had been so well played, that he could not clear himself with
the King; and all through this winter he remained out of favour.

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