The secret memoirs of the Duc de Roquelaure

Front matter

Cornell University Library

The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library.

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Chapter I Page

The year 1617—Topics of the time—My birth—My father the Marshal—Madame de Roquelaure’s fright—The Place de Gréve—A common woman’s hospitality—The execution of the Chevalier de Sassetôt—The confessor and the penitent—The executioner in danger—Casters of horoscopes—A glance at that calling—Extract from a letter written by Antoine Baron de Roquelaure to the Hungarian Major Ramzer—The assassination of Henri IV.—The grimace of Ravaillac—M. Huguelin— My portrait—Am I handsome or ugly ?— Uncertainty on that point—I first carry arms—-Madame de Lavernay —This lady's attractions—My inexperience—The Marquis de Croixville—A state secret — An amorous téte-d-téte—The nougat from Provence—A supper for three—An evening at M. de D.’s—I am overwhelmed with witticisms—I am beaten off the field—M. de Larochefoucauld’s wit at Madame de Lavernay’s expense—The ‘‘forties'’—The illusions of the age of eighteen

Chapter II

A glance backwards—King Luynes—An epigram—A good deed done by the devil—The Bishop of Luçon— Sketch—The Cardinal’s taste for gallantry—Mademoiselle de Pont-Courlay—Rivalries—War commenced— vill CONTENTS

PAGE Small causes and great effects—The stupid look of the Marquis de Combalet—The Duc d’Epernon's saying—Madame de S.—A secret revealed —The knee of Marie de Médicis—A trap—The Cardinal in good luck—Unexpected result—The birth of the Dauphin —Is he his father’s son?— Absurd tattle — His Eminence’s feverish fits—M. de Cinq-Mars—My first campaign—The Comte de Soissons, Madame de Combalet and the poet Neuf-Germain | : : . 40

Chapter III

The battle of La Marfée— Impressions of my first fight —My answer to the Maréchal de Fabert— The death of the Comte de Soissons—Various accounts—A disaster. —I am wounded —An enforced stay at Donchery— The weariness of solitude—The mysterious carriage —I rescue a young and beautiful girl from an unknown danger—-A sentimental journey to Reims— The road—Fanfette yawns—The innkeeper and Dr. Mathielmus — Fanfette’s stays — A doctor’s visit — Singular questions—The ungratifying fee which I paid for the visit of the venerable Mathielmus—A quick way downstairs—Farewell to Fanfette—A stolen kiss—Daydreams . : : : : : : . 63

Chapter IV

A little confession—Madame de Guéménée besieged—A ball at the Hôtel Grammont—The five competitors —The Prince de Guéménée as a demi-lune—The pavane—D'Andilly's cuff—I throw it in his face—A farcical duel—I wound D’Andilly—Villejuif: Madame de Vaudreuil’s country house—Mysterious noises— Madame de Gueménée's reply to my relative La Tour Roquelaure—The broken teaservice—Conjectures—The maid Pelloquin and the groom Rigobert—A voyage of discovery—The Abbé de Gondy—I suspect Madame de Guéménée of a secret understanding with him—My plans for finding out—Madame de Guéménée and Pelloquin one and the same person—I make a desperate

CONTENTS 1x

PAGE attempt—I encounter a vigorous resistance—A surrender at discretion—A night well used—Embarrass- ‘ment in the morning—A satisfactory explanation—A humorous meeting at the Tuileries—M. Béchamel—A wager—A kick—My victim thanks me—A breakfast in his honour : : 3 5 : 3 . 87

Chapter V

A word about the Abbé de Gondy—Richelieu’s terrible pastime—The executioner and Cinq-Mars—M. Méranne d'Amberton— His prophecy about the Cardinal— A distich by Grotius—The battle of Honnecourt—I am taken by the Spaniards—A letter from M. de Voiture —The Castilian captain's mistress— What Richelieu said when he was dying—A souvenir visit to Madame de Lavernay—My successor—I claim the reward for my former services—-I am flatly refused—I am sacrificed’ to the little marquis—My mortification—I swear to be revenged—My meeting with Croixville— Marinelli’s wine-shop—Spanish wine—Croixville falls under the table—The hour of the swain—A sleepless night—A billet-doux ; ; : ; ; : . 119

Chapter VI

A survey of the year 1643—The floods—An evening at Du Ryer’s— Madame C.— The story of M. and Madame Charmontel—The councillor of the Parlement of Rennes—The end of the honeymoon—The husband’s extreme coldness—The revival of the lady's sentiments — The attempts— Tears — Coquetry— Trying faithlessness—The Comte de Chamblard—In flagrante delicto —Charmontel not to be moved— M. and Madame Biassou—The innocent Abbé Guibert—A surprise— The admirable composure of a grammarian—A lesson in grammar. ? 5 : ; à : - . 152

Chapter VII

M. de Brancas—His absent-mindedness—The wig—Mademoiselle Garnier—The blessing—Strange disappearance x CONTENTS

PAGE of the husband—Anxiety—The bride’s regrets—Sad dreams—Contrast—The little letter—A dainty supper— M. de Barillon—We save Brancas from himself—He returns to his duty—A wedding night—Gomberville— All set right—The Abbé de Mauroy—The stolen spectacles— M. de Lesdiguières—The levée of Anne of Austria—A remark repeated—My connection with Bassompierre — Portrait— The principles of French gallantry—A model to follow—-Reflections—M. de Valazé—His imaginary terrors—Other queer characters —M. and Madame Lombard—Cornet Restaud—The husband's jealousy—The lady’s Ale ues a vow made on a death-bed ‘ . 168

Chapter VIII

A walk in the Place Royale — Chapelain — D'Alibon: ex-tax collector—A long yawn—D'Alibon again—My wish about his lady's virtue—A quarrel between the pair—A challenge—An invitation to dinner—Hostile intentions—I am warned in time—The advice given me by Courcelles—I appear upon the scene—I am regarded as a curiosity—My plan of vengeance—A discussion about me—At table—Cross firing — My appetite — Disappointment — Madame de Buysard— Cicero as a preacher—Simplicity—General amazement —My reputation lost—D’Alibon and his friends withdraw to avoid laughing in my face—I am left alone with the lady—Reaction—She begins with indignation and works round to pity—Pity akin to love—The blind down—Consolation—Madame d’Alibon owed me the reparation—A pleasant time—The husband is content —The lady is well pleased—Everyone is satisfied— Madame de Rambouillet—Fresh successes of the Duc d'Enghien—The carp and the pike—Another piece of insolence from D’Alibon—I charitably give him a word of advice : : ‘ ; : ‘ Z . 190

Chapter IX

I stay with M. de Lesdiguières—At Grand-Mesnil—A breakfast—A singular dessert—The Chevalier de Bireuil—A

CONTENTS xi

| PAGE merry wight—A mournful presence—An approaching marriage—M. de Lesdiguières and I are to be the bridegroom's friends—Bireuil unbosoms himself—The history of his amour with the fair Vanina Betucci—A portrait of the Italian girl—A declaration—Her family—Disappointment and resentment—Flora, the servant—The naval officer—An assignation at night—The key—An abominable treachery—A fatal interview—Vanina’s despair— The surprise. à : : ; . ‘ ; . 220

Chapter X

Vanina’s History continued—Her father—M. de Bireuil astounded—A mystery disclosed—Flora’s part in it—The guilty one forgiven—The conditions of the pardon— Bireuil accepts them—Vanina’s resignation—Preparing for happiness—Painful suspense—We go to Provins— A melancholy visit—A joyous marriage—My singular presentiment in Church—The return home—Alarming symptoms—Confidences—A tragic ending—We console Bireuil as best we can—Farewell to the country—We return to Grand-Mesnil— Madame de Lesdiguières— This lady’s opinion of me—Lesdiguiéres as my advocate —I make a strange resolve—A journey with a charming woman—Gallantry by night—A fool’s prudence—It is taken in ill part—The lady’s letter to her husband—The postscript—I mean to have my revenge—A visit to the Princesse de Guéménée—Mazarin at the Palais-Royal . 243

Chapter XI

A night with Bois-Robert—Basset—Bad at play-—I win ten thousand crowns—Debtor and creditor . , ; . 267

Chapter XII

A little clique—My occupations by day and by night—A word about La Calprenède—The Abbé de Persan’s view of him—Il Signor Giulio—My attachment to him— “Les Importants’—My answer to the Marquis de Mortemart—Secret attacks of my enemies—The Prince befriends me—Beaufort’s disgrace—He is sent to the xii CONTENTS

PAGE Bastille—Mad amours— Madame de Pélussin—Portrait of her—A spot on the sun—An incurable blemish—The Abbé de Céris’s observation —Buquet d’Andail—His avarice—He asks Bautru to dinner—Such a dinner !|— The skeleton — What M. Angevins said—A trap— Bautru takes his vengeance in an epigram . | 272

Chapter XIII

The posture of affairs—Ennui, a malady of pretty women— The cure suggested by Mazarin—An installation at the . Palais-Royal — Corneille — Production of Rodogune— Madame de Pommeuse—This lady's qualities— Monsieur de Guise, the grandson of Balafré—Marshal the Duke d’Aumont—Mademoislle de Pons—Huguelin again— Attack and reply—A quarrel at cards—The pack thrown in the face of a player—The duel—An unexpected spectator—I take charge of a pretty girl in a fainting fit—The two wounded combatants—Satisfactory explanations—All ends for the best—Cyrano-Bergerac—A scene from Agrippina—The happy lovers—Villars and Ninon de l'Enclos—D'Aumont cured . : é . 290

Chapter XIV

Three months at Grand-Mesnil—M. de Magnancourt’s mania —The fearful consequences that sometimes ensued from it— His scheme about me — Mademoiselle Thérèse d’Oysanville—A faithful sketch—The word marriage—

Perturbing effect of it on me——M. de Magnancourt's efforts—The love of liberty—A serious communication—

An avowal by deputy— What is to be done ?—Embarrassment—I resolve on a grievous sacrifice—Sinister joy of the schemer—An interview secured with difficulty —Sad figure cut by the two lovers—A new kind of declaration—Mutual satisfaction—A vow of friendship— M. de Magnancourt owns he is beaten—Concerning the contradictory tendencies in love—Judicious reflections on this point—The mystery of the heart. . : . 318

SECRET MEMOIRS

OF THE

DUC DE ROQUELAURE

Chapter I

The year 1617—Topics of the time—My birth—My father the Marshal—Madame de Roquelaure’s fright—The Place de Gréve—A common woman's hospitality—The execution of the Chevalier de Sassetôt—The confessor and the penitent —The executioner in danger—Casters of horoscopes—A glance at that calling—Extract from a letter written by Antoine Baron de Roquelaure to the Hungarian Major Ramzer—The assassination of Henri IV.—The grimace of Ravaillac—M. Huguelin—My portrait—Am I handsome or ugly ?—Uncertainty on that point—TI first carry arms— Madame de Lavernay—This lady’s attractions—My inexperience—The Marquis de Croixville—A state secret—An amorous fête-à-tête—The nougat from Provence—A supper for three—An evening at M. de D.’s—I am overwhelmed with witticisms—I am beaten off the field—M. de Larochefoucauld’s wit at Madame de Lavernay’s expense—The “forties ’—The illusions of the age of eighteen.

Tue year 1617 was beyond question one of the most prolific of important events and of every kind of agitation that the century has witnessed. I do not say this because it was the year of my birth—my

VOL. I I self-conceit does not reach to that point; but it seems to me that there is no excessive indulgence in honouring with the title “famous” a period which within so small a compass of time showed us such incidents as the disgrace of Marie de Médicis, the murder of the Maréchal d’Ancre, the execution of Leonor de Galigai, the Cevennes war, Barnevelt’s exploits in Holland, the Spanish conspiracy at Venice, and in the Christian world the double jubilee of the Catholics and the Protestants. Such influences were reigning when I first drew breath.

If my birth cannot be ranked with these remarkable events—and that I heartily avow—it is none the less true that my introduction to this lower world took place at a time when great things were in the wind, and around my cradle were plenty of movement and plenty of noise.

Well, then, I was born in 1617, son to Antoine, Baron de Roquelaure, whose innumerable titles and still more innumerable good qualities I will not here mention, seeing that for a gentleman the important point is not to found his nobility on many parchments, but to justify it by fair and honourable deeds; and of this obligation I may well say that my father acquitted himself in such manner as to satisfy the most critical and to win the good opinion of all the men of worth of his age. His high reputation was a part of the estate which he left me, and I have striven to keep possession of it with faithful zeal, that in my turn I may deliver it intact to my descendants. Have I succeeded in fulfilling this duty? Posterity must answer that question . . . but if I should here reveal my inmost thought and speak without bombast, I believe that posterity will be less severe in his case than in mine, and will less esteem my character than his. I am a filial man, and will not complain of this apportionment. He was a better man than I, and though his disposition was affectionate and merry, yet upon necessity he brought to the consideration of business that thorough seriousness of which men of policy stand in so much need; this quality I have never been able to graft upon my character, which is essentially prone to satire and levity. This, I know well, will afford the material of an undying reproach against me. But I have my consolation for it, since, after full consideration, I would not have sacrificed a single one of those rare sportive times that have fallen to my lot in the past for the dubious expectation of passing for a Cato in the future. It is my nature not to wish to purchase the finest reputation in the world at the price of twenty-four hours of tediousness.

It will surprise no one if I pass lightly over the first period of my life. I know but by hearsay the little I could tell, and the wailings of one child are so like those of another, the gamut of their cries is everywhere and always so invariable, that I will I—2 not set myself to renew for the kindly reader the torture of so discordant a music and of so deafening a noise. I doubt not I was as tricksy and rebellious as any other child in long clothes, and I must further conclude, judging by what I have been since, that it was abundantly difficult to get a few minutes’ quiet and rest with me, even at that quite passive phase of my life. -

Since we are at this heading, I may go back a little further, and acquaint you with an incident which preceded my birth. My mother, when eight months with child, had occasion to go one day to the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. As far as I can recollect, she had gone to visit a friend of hers whom a sort of disgrace unjustly endured at Court had so forcibly afflicted in body and in mind that she had fallen ill of it and died a month later. It was three oclock; my mother was returning very quietly in her sedan-chair, and the carriers, aware of her condition, had moderated their pace with right good-will, when upon reaching the Rue Saint- Paul they were suddenly stopped by the moving stream of a huge crowd which seemed to flow out from the surrounding parts. My mother gave the order to pass forward. The carriers, being of a curious turn, and hoping to satisfy their curiosity, were all agog to push ahead. But when Madame de Roquelaure understood, from certain expressions which she caught amid the turmoil, that an execution was afoot, she countermanded her first order and cried to the carriers to turn back. Unfortunately this was now impossible. The crowd had become so dense that the chair could get no further, whether to the right or left. Thereupon a poor common woman seemed to take pity on my mother’s plight, and invited her to come up to her dwelling, there to await the end of the incident. The offer was too welcome to be refused, and my mother eagerly followed her. obliging hostess.

Now conceive the horror of Madame de Roquelaure when, after with difficulty ascending four steep flights of stairs, she entered a room which composed the old woman’s sole dwelling and looked out full upon the Place de Grève. My mother gave vent to a cry, for she abhorred all dreadful sights; and yet her eyes (a matter that she could never explain to herself) were drawn with a sort of involuntary curiosity to the scaffold erected in the middle of the square, and such was her abeyance of mind and will at that time that nothing could have withdrawn her from that painful view.

“Oh,” said a quavering voice behind her, “ you will see finely from here.”

My mother turned round, and perceived that it was the old woman who had spoken. The pale and wrinkled countenance which but now had appeared to express kindness and good-will, suddenly seemed to bear the impress of an inexpressible baseness mingled with avarice. The crone failed to perceive the piercing intelligence of my mother’s glance, and added: ,

“Be sure, I shouldn’t have let everybody have my window, but I saw that the pretty lady was one of the quality.”

Mistake was impossible: the woman had been trying to make a bargain of it. Madame de Roquelaure afterwards recounted that she was then seized with a violent qualmishness—and not without cause, especially after the tender emotion aroused in her by this hospitality when seemingly proffered with so much grace and spontaneousness ; but my mother gradually regained her courage and asked, though with a trembling voice:

# Who is coming? What poor wretch is it...’

“That they are going to hurry into the other world? Oh, the worst of all criminals, pretty lady. A heretic who has well deserved his fate. He is one De Sassetôt, a chevalier, accused of having perverted young ladies of quality and stolen the treasure in ten cathedrals. It’s sacrilege, you see; and there’ll be joy in heaven this evening.”

The old woman went on speaking, but my mother no longer listened to her. The victim had just entered the Gréve, and the acclamations of the crowd had resounded from every side at once. Like all the condemned under this sentence, the Chevalier de Sassetôt was seated in a dirty cart, drawn backwards, and accompanied by a friar repeating paternosters in his ear. This man fulfilled his function with much zeal and exactness; but Sassetôt, a hardened offender no doubt, paid very little attention to him. He looked right and left, smiled to the women at the balconies, and bowed with an air of patronage to the row of halberdiers drawn up along the way. In the eyes of all such conduct in this man was a proof of great equanimity and inconceivable self-command. Pity for him was already spreading, and the premature death of a gentleman whose courage and steadfastness might certainly have been employed in a more useful and less melancholy fashion was being deplored, when of a sudden, upon arriving at the scaffold, he changed his mien and yielded to indescribable fury. The friar, as a man of peace and reconciliation before all things, endeavoured to recall him to calmness and resignation. The Chevalier de Sassetôt fiercely snatched his hood off, seized him about the middle and flung him from the top to the bottom of the scaffold. The whole square was filled with uproar. As luck would have it the poor monk had but his shoulder put out and his nose slightly injured. Folk ran to his aid. Then the Chevalier de Sassetôt, taking advantage of this diversion, laid hold of the executioner, bit him hard in the neck, and beyond doubt would have then and there strangled him if eight or ten stout men-at-arms had not put a stop to his rage. These different incidents hastened the execution. Sassetôt was condemned to be broken alive upon the wheel. The instruments of this punishment were brought up... . The executioner rubbed his hands, the crowd pressed up closer, and...

We heard no more. My mother had cast her purse on the mantelpiece of the horrible old woman, and, when she had got down the stairs, she knew not how, she had the luck to find her chair again. She returned home more dead than alive, and ill ... there is scarce need to mention it. Two days later she gave birth to a child, myself, and I can say that the character of that child never suffered from the effects of the trial to which it was submitted in the mother’s womb, and before its own life began.

After such a shock as this it is not surprising that the idea of having my horoscope cast found favour. Recourse was had to certain sibyls of repute and certain oracles highly esteemed in Paris. Some declared that I should be a great poet; others asserted that I should take a place near the throne. Some were of the opinion that I should become king, and as they were richly paid, all agreed in saying that I should be the handsomest fellow in the world and should live beyond a hundred years.

Not a single one had guessed what I should really be.

My mother’s weakness for the horoscope wizards was natural enough, and can easily be explained by the very nature of the ways of that age. How should she resist this whim—for such it was—when people belauded in earnest the astonishing feats of the famous Parafre, who manufactured talismans of false diamonds and love-amulets of unfailing efficacy ? Under Henri IV. and Louis XIII. not a girl would have been found who did not believe in the mysterious potency of a flower plucked before sunrise. Even a leaf of clover was enough to make the charm work well.

No doubt the magicians, sorcerers and prophets guessed wrong oftener than right. Yet, in spite of their continual errors, these worthy folk secured comfortable revenues. . . . But it must be added that, since the notable punishment of the Maréchal d’Ancre in particular, they were no longer resorted to, save in secret, and they remained in concealment as much as possible. The gibbet, the stake and the scaffold are jests so grim that they thought twice before satisfying the inquisitive, and only dealt with trusted customers. After all, what was their crime? They distilled from certain credulous gentlemen coins which they would otherwise have lost at lansquenet. . . . Instead of punishing them as heretics or thieves, why should not those in authority have given them the pardon which is extended to beggars? They had examples in high places. Did not the mother

Io SECRET MEMOIRS OF of Henri III. profess the science, the pretended mysteries of which Ruggieri revealed to her? Did not she carry a skin of vellum, or, as others have it, of a flayed child, on her stomach, whereon letters, signs and figures were thickly traced, as well as a talisman which had been compounded for her by. the famous Regnier? Did not Marie de Médicis even in the time of her exile always keep among her suite a sorcerer called (I think) Fabroni? In deference to such distinguished examples some indulgence, as it seems to me, might have been extended to the magicians, and I thoroughly incline to the system since followed by M. d’Argenson, who looked upon them but as clever thieves of whom it was well to rid the capital, though they certainly were not worthy of the distinction of being burned. Now we are upon the question of magicians, I cannot omit to relate a fact which my father was fond of recounting, because he had been a witness of it, and it had made a strong impression upon him. I had it from my mother, for I was too young to hear it from my father’s lips. He used to say that in the year 1595 or 1596 (I forget which) a magician from the Low Countries had declared, amidst a considerable company, that the King, Henri IV., would be killed in his bed in the following year, but if this prophecy failed of accomplishment, yet his Majesty would be unable to avoid a tragic fate, and that, after many fruitless efforts, his enemies

THE DUC, DE ROQUELAURE II would fulfil their object. This foreigner left France, and no doubt all those who had heard him forgot his words, my father excepted, whose anxiety was increased by the unbounded affection which he ever had for the Bearnais. This prediction of the magician was indeed falsified as concerned its immediate fulfilment, but was entirely justified by the events of the following years. In 1597 an upholsterer of the Rue du Temple, being convicted of the intention to murder the king, was hung in the Place de Gréve and his body burned to ashes. Two years later the king received direct warning from a capuchin of Milan, named Honorio, that some rascal had set out to cut his throat in Paris. In 1600 the woman Nicole Mignon wrote to the Comte de Soissons, the grand maître of France, to demand a secret interview with him. She could, she said, show him an infallible method of becoming the most important and powerful prince in the world. The count, surprised at this strange proposal, granted her a meeting in order to question her more at his ease. She waited upon him and, without beating about the bush, strongly urged M. de Soissons to place her husband in the royal kitchen, promising him as the price of this favour to rid him of the king within a week by means of a subtle poison. By good luck M. de Léomenie was in an adjoining room and heard all. Nicole Mignon was at once arrested and her trial was speedily brought to a conclusion.

Other attempts were made, but I hasten on to the disaster which fulfilled the prophecy of the Netherlands astrologer. This no doubt is a familiar matter to all; but my father’s account of it has nevertheless that authority which belongs to narratives written by eye-witnesses. I give an extract from a letter which he wrote on this subject to a Hungarian, Major Ramzer, the original of which was returned to our family at the death of the latter by his testamentary executor. The Maréchal de Bassompierre also had a copy.

‘À fatal day has arisen upon France. It is the 14th of this month of May, 1610. This morning, about ten o’clock, the King went to hear mass at the Feuillants, where he appeared, as usual, intent on his devotions. As he came out he met the Duc de Guise and Bassompierre coming to meet him. Henri joked with his courtiers, but with so constrained a manner and so pensive an air that it might be asserted his Majesty had a presentiment. He spent the rest of the day in somewhat better spirits. But at dinner the King again became a prey to melancholy, and after displaying much indecision, as not knowing what he should do to free himself from the depression which possessed him, he announced that he would set out for the Arsenal to visit the Duc de Sully there. The carriage being ready, he quitted the Louvre without breaking silence. The gentlemen who accompanied his Majesty were the Duc de Montbazon, the Maréchal de Lavardie, De Laforce, the Duc d’Epernon, Mirebeau, Liancourt, and myself. He instructed M. de Vitry, captain of the guard, to go to the palace and there superintend the arrangements for the Queen's arrival, which was very shortly expected.

“The weather being fine, the two windows of the carriage were left open. Truly there are fatal circumstances which no man can prevent or foresee. While passing between the Rue Saint-Honoré and the Rue de la Ferronnerie, the carriage was stopped by two laden waggons which were blocking the street. This obstruction caused the greater part of the attendants to proceed into the Cemetery of the Innocents. Of the two servants who remained, one advanced to order the waggons which were impeding the King’s progress to back, and the other chanced to stoop to refasten his garter.

“Then it was, my dear Ramzer, that God abandoned us. The King was at this moment bereft of his guard. On a sudden a man, placing his foot on one of the hind wheels, stretched out his hand towards the King and stabbed him with a poniard between the second and third rib, a little above the heart. We rushed to his Majesty’s aid, we hustled the assassin aside, and formed a shield for our master with our bodies. But this skilled murderer was able to direct a second blow at Henri’s heart. He struck, and at the very moment his mouth was distorted by a hideous grimace which Montbazon and I alone remarked. It gave to his face the expression which we usually attribute to the devils or the damned.

“This monster is called Ravaillac. The victim died immediately. I was instructed, in company with certain trustworthy gentlemen, to spread through the town the news of a recovery of the King. Our hearts bled as we gave vent to this false report . . . but it was necessary for the welfare of the kingdom and the quiet of the capital. Still in the quarters that are remote from the Louvre are heard the cries, ‘Long live the King!’ It is a cry that hurts me.”

I shall say no more upon a too familiar theme, and one which is, so to say, foreign to my own affairs. But I have yielded to the wish to quote some fragments of a correspondence, afterwards made public, of the late Duc de Roquelaure, and no one will take in ill part this homage of a son to the memory of his father.

I return to myself.

From my earliest days I gave specimens of that jesting nature which afterwards obtained for me so much approbation and so much inimical criticism. My mother used often to remind me, among other matters of this sort, that I once made a string of answers to an old salt-tax receiver which split the company into two camps, the one taking my side, the other much scandalised at my forwardness. I was then thirteen, and here is the incident:

I had but lately been admitted into my mother’s salon, and among the visitors whom I had chanced to meet, M. Huguelin was one of those who pleased me least. He was a poor old fellow who had the foible of thinking himself a great wit, and who, not content with his huge fortune—I do not well know how he had made it—was determined at all costs to pass for a good-natured wag. I have often seen him since, and I may say that I never knew a man whose merriment was sadder. He never uttered anything without first giving vent to one of those stupid laughs whose inevitable effect is to put you on guard against a joke which is usually neither funny nor capable of being made so.

Thus heavy-witted, he took himself to be the finest, most delicate, and briskest hand at rallying another in the world. That night he had several times made trial of me, and as he supposed he should find a child of thirteen an easy victim, he followed his inclination to his heart’s content. I saw that he wished to make a fool of me; but I kept countenance, and though he designedly tackled subjects above my years, I answered without awkwardness, leading him on by my questions, for