LETTER XLII.
SIR,Paris, May 22, 1732.
Yesterday I loiter’d away a good deal of Time with a Couple of Englishmen, to whom, as they call it in Italy, I was a Cicero[72]. Nevertheless, you must not expect me to give you an Account of every thing I saw; and besides, so much has been already said of Versailles, that you shall hardly find one Book in twenty, almost, but what treats of the Beauties of this Royal Palace.
After having shew’d my English Gentlemen the Castle, the Chapel, the Stables and the Park, I carried them to the Royal Abbey of St. Cyr, which they had heard so much Talk of, that they long’d to see it: ’Tis a grand stately House, and worthy of the Magnificence of the great Monarch who founded it, at the Solicitation of Madame de Maintenon, for the Education of two hundred and fifty young Damsels, whose Families are not able to give them a Maintenance suitable to their Birth. Immediately after the Demise of Lewis XIV. Madame de Maintenon retir’d to St. Cyr, and there she always dwelt till she died. She went thither indeed,
even during the King’s Illness, as soon as she found that the Physicians had given him over; the King, however, contrary to all Expectation, recover’d; and not seeing Madame de Maintenon, ask’d where she was: Upon this the Lady return’d, when the King gave her a handsome Reprimand for abandoning him, and desir’d her to stay with him as long as he had any Remains of Life. Madame de Maintenon obey’d, but the King’s Breath was no sooner out of his Body, than she took Coach, and went to St. Cyr, with a Design never to stir from it as long as she liv’d.
She had the Consolation, however, of receiving Visits there from all the Princes and Princesses of the Blood; and even the late Madame the Regent’s Mother, who never visited Madame de Maintenon in the King’s Life-time, thought she could not excuse herself from making her a Visit. The Regent went thither likewise, and told her, she might depend upon his punctual Regard to every Tittle that the late King had order’d in her Favour by his last Will and Testament. Madame de Maintenon return’d him Thanks, and said, that as she was resolv’d to be retir’d for the Residue of her Life, she desir’d but 40,000 Livres a Year for her Subsistance. Four Years after this she died, and was interr’d in the Church of St. Cyr, in the Middle of the Choir, in a Tomb of plain black Marble, with the following Epitaph engrav’d on it; which I lik’d so well, that I have copied it Word for Word, and send it to you, because I don’t believe you have seen it elsewhere.
CY GIT
Très baute & très puissante Dame
Madame Francoise d’Aubigne,
Marquise de Maintenon;
Femme Illustre, Femme vraiment Chrétienne;
Cette Femme forte que le Sage chercha vainement dans son Siecle,
Et qu’il nous eût proposé pour modele, s’il eût vêcu dans le nôtre.
Sa Naissance fut très noble.
On loua de bonne heure son Esprit, & plus encore sa Vertu.
La Sagesse, la Douceur, la Modestie sormoient son Caractere,
Qui ne se démentit jamais.
Toujours égale dans les differentes situations de sa vie;
Mêmes Principles, mêmes Regles, mêmes Vertus.
Fidèle dans les exercices de Piété,
Tranquille au milieu des agitations de la Cour,
Simple dans la Grandeur,
Pauvre dans le centre des richesses,
Humble au comble des honneurs;
Révérée de Louis le Grand,
Environnée de sa gloire,
Autorisée par sa plus intime confiance,
Dépositaire de ses graces,
Qui n’a jamais fait d’usage de son pouvoir,
Que par sa bonté.
Une autre Esther dans la faveur,
Une seconde Judith dans la Retraite & l’Oraison:
La Mere des Pauvres,
L’Asyle toujours sûr des malheureux,
Une vie si illustre
A été terminée par un mort sainte
Et precieuse devant Dieu.
Son Corps est resté dans cette sainte maison,
Dont elle avoit procuré l’établissement;
Et elle a laissé à l’univers
L’exemple de ses vertus.
Décédée le 15 d’Avril 1719.
Née le 28 de Novembre 1635.
i. e.
HERE LIES
The most high and most potent Lady
The Lady Francese d’Aubigny,
Marchioness of Maintenon.
A Wife illustrious[73], a Woman truly Christian;
That virtuous Heroine whom the wise Man sought in vain in his Time,
And whom he wou’d have propos’d to us for a Pattern, if he had liv’d in ours.
She was of Birth most noble,
Her Wit was early commended, and much more her Virtue.
Sobriety, good Nature and Modesty, form’d her Character,
From which she never derogated.
Always unchangeable in the various Situations of her Life;
The same Principles, the same Rules, the same Virtues.
Sincere in the Exercises of Piety,
Tranquil during the Storms at Court,
Plain in the Midst of Grandeur,
Poor in the Centre of Wealth,
Humble at the Summit of Honours;
Rever’d by Lewis le Grand,
Environ’d with his Glory,
Vested with his most intimate Confidence,
The Depositary of his Favours,
Who never made use of her Power
But to do Good.
Another Esther in Favour,
A second Judith in Retirement and Prayer:
The Mother of the Poor,
The never-failing Asylum of the Unfortunate.
A Life so illustrious
Was cut off by a Death Pious,
And precious in the Sight of God.
Her Body lies in this Sacred House,
Of which she procur’d the Establishment:
And her Virtues she has left
To the World for a Pattern.
She departed this Life April 15, 1719.
Being born the 28th of November 1635.
My Englishmen thought the Panegyric upon Madame de Maintenon a little too much strain’d. I confess that I think she is well equipp’d with a Character; and if it be true, that she was as humble as her Epitaph imports, I make no doubt, but if she had liv’d to see such an Encomium, it would have put her Modesty sadly out of Countenance: For ’tis certain, that this Lady had a very great Fund of Virtue and Piety; and I have heard it said by Persons, who otherwise had no reason to be fond of her, that ’twas impossible to be acquainted with her, and not to esteem her.
When I return’d from St. Cyr, I came hither to see M. Voltaire’s Tragedy of Brutus, which is so fine a Piece, that I and my English Companions were charm’d with it: We not only admir’d the Conduct and Versification of it, but we applauded
the Freedom with which the Author makes the Romans think and speak. Mean time, the French are not of our Opinion. The Respect due to Royalty, say they, is not well preserv’d in it. They censure the Author for presuming to confine the Royal Authority within the Bounds of Justice. M. de Voltaire, say they, never could imbibe these Sentiments in France. ’Tis very plain that he contracted them beyond Sea. They may be relish’d well enough by the English; but to us they are intolerable: And if M. de Voltaire goes on to write in this Manner, he may, perhaps, have an Apartment in the Bastile. I confess that terrible Name dumb-founder’d me, and I did not dare to say a Word in the Author’s Vindication, for fear of being deem’d his Accomplice. The Bastile and the Holy Office are two Terms which always silenc’d me, even when I have had the strongest Inclination to speak my Mind.
As for the Comedians, they perform’d Wonders. One du Frêne actually out-did himself. He is Brother to Quinaut, an excellent Comedian in the Parts which require Humour, but excessively out-of-the-Way in Tragedy; and take him off the Theatre, impertinent beyond Expression, as is also his Brother, tho’ they are both Men of Wit.
The Players are much more respected here than they are elsewhere, which makes them insolent to the last Degree. The Nobility are fond of their Company, and admit them to their Parties of Pleasure: And as they are Kings upon the Stage, and Equals and Companions at Table with the best Lords in the Kingdom, no wonder that it turns their Brains. But that which must needs render them arrogant beyond Measure, is a late Instance of Regard paid them by the French Academy, who, by a Letter, invited the Performers in the French Comedy, to hear an Oration made in
their Academy; which the Comedians took for such an Honour, that the very next Day they offer’d the Members of the Academy Admission to their Comedy Gratis; which the Academicians made no Scruple to accept, to the great Amazement of the whole City of Paris, which blames the Members for it not a little: The Fault is laid at the Door of certain Authors, who are in League with the Comedians, and gave the Invitation without consulting the rest of the Members, of whom several that had, no Hand in the Transaction, protested against the Conduct of those who had, the Consequence of which was a Quarrel in the Academy. Indeed, one would imagine by that Day’s Work, that they did not really consider what they were doing; and the Noblemen who are Members of the Academy, cry out against it very much. ’Tis true, that the Comedians who presume to offer Admission Gratis to a Marshal de Villars, a Marshal d’Estrées, or other Noblemen of that Rank, are not mean Fellows, and deserve the Appellation of the Company of Comedians, instead of Troop; in order to distinguish them from the Strollers in the[74] Country. Why then should not they be honour’d? The Actors in the Opera, who, as well as they, divert the Public for Lucre, have, indeed, the Privilege, that a Gentleman may be admitted among them without Disparagement to his Title. This is a Favour, says a modern Author very justly, which had never yet been granted to those who perform in the public Spectacles, and who give Diversion for Money; because in
most of the Ages of Christianity, they had been look’d upon as Persons excommunicated and infamous, by reason of the Corruption in Morals, owing to their then too licentious Representations, which, perhaps, is no longer apprehended to be the Case at present. ’Tis certain, that if a Performer in an Opera may be noble, I can’t see why a Person mayn’t be the same in a Comedy; tho’ ’tis my Opinion, that if Stage-players may be Gentlemen, Rope-dancers and Tumblers have a Title to it; for, besides the Honour they have of diverting the Public, they run the Risk of breaking their Necks every Day; and is not that the Lot of the Nobility?
As I returned Yesterday with my Englishmen from Versailles, we went to St. Cloud, where we had the Honour to see the Duke de Chartres, the only Son of the Duke of Orleans. This Prince was in the Park, to see a young Officer of the Train of Artillery make Proofs of some Pieces of Ordnance. We were surpriz’d to see how attentively the young Prince observed every thing, and to hear him ask the Officer such Questions as were not to be expected from one of his Years. We had reason also to applaud the gracious and polite Reception which he gave us. To be plain, I was charm’d to see a Grandson of the late Madame, so worthy of herself, and of the illustrious Blood from which he is descended.
St. Cloud is a Palace belonging to the Duke of Orleans, first Prince of the Blood, and was built by Order of the late Monsieur Philip of France, (Brother of Lewis XIV.) who added very magnificent Gardens to it. ’Tis certain, that if the late King had chose St. Cloud for his Residence, instead of Versailles, he might have had a finer Building with less Expence. What is most admir’d at St. Cloud, are the Gallery and Salon,
both painted by Mignard, the Cascade, and the great Water-work, which throws up the Water a hundred Feet high, and which nothing exceeds of the Kind, but the Work that was made by the Direction of an[75]English Gentleman at Herenhausen, near Hanover, in the Reign of King George I.
St. Cloud has been fatal to several Princes of the Royal Family. Henry III. was assassinated there on the first of August 1589, at eight o’Clock in the Morning, by James Clement. Henrietta of England, first Wife to the late Philip of France, Duke of Orleans, only Brother to Lewis XIV. died there suddenly of a Colic, on the 30th of June 1670. She said that she was poison’d, for which Reason the King caus’d her Corpse to be open’d in Presence of the English Ambassador. ’Tis a difficult Matter, to judge whether that Princess’s Suspicions were true; for the Physicians and Surgeons found all her noble Parts corrupted, tho’ she was but twenty-six Years old. Her Husband paid his Tribute to Nature on a sudden, in the same Palace, on the 4th of June 1701.
What I have mentioned to you of the unhappy Catastrophe of the last of the Valois, puts me in Mind of a Passage in History, that Te Deum was forgot in the Ceremony of his Coronation; that the Crown fell from his Head; and that there was no Oil in the Sacred Phial, to perform the customary[76] Unction; which were then taken for ill Omens, and Time prov’d them but too true.
Since I am upon Tragical Events, I will mention a Thing to you that lately happen’d in England, and which I was assur’d by the English Gentlemen, in our Return from Versailles, is a certain Fact.
One Richard Smith, a Bookbinder, and his Wife Bridget, were about a Fortnight ago found hanging in their Chamber near their Bed-side, about three or four Feet Distance from one another; and in the next Room, their Daughter, who was but two Years old, was found shot thro’ the Head. There were three Letters left upon the Table, of which the following is the most material; and I send you a Copy of it, because it will let you into the Stoic Character of the English Nation. ’Tis directed to Mr. Brindley, a Bookbinder at London, in that which is call’d New Bondstreet.
Cousin Brindley,
‘These Actions, consider’d in all their Circumstances, being somewhat uncommon, it may not be improper to give some Account of the Cause, and that it was an inveterate Hatred we conceiv’d against Poverty and Rags; Evils, which through a Train of unlucky Accidents were become inevitable; for we appeal to all that ever knew us, whether we were either idle or extravagant; whether or no we have not taken as much Pains to get our Living as our Neighbours, altho’ not attended with the same
We apprehend the taking our Child’s Life away to be a Circumstance for which we shall be generally condemn’d; but for our own Parts, we are perfectly easy upon that Head. We are satisfy’d it is less Cruelty to take the Child with us, even supposing a State of Annihilation, as some dream of, than to leave her friendless in the World, expos’d to Ignorance and Misery. Now in order to obviate some Censures, which may proceed either from Ignorance or Malice, we think it proper to inform the World, that we firmly believe the Existence of Almighty God; that this Belief of ours is not an implicit Faith, but deduced from the Nature and Reason of Things: We believe the Existence of an Almighty Being from the Consideration of his wonderful Works, from a Consideration of those innumerable celestial and glorious Bodies, and from their wonderful Order and Harmony. We have also spent some Time in viewing those Wonders which are to be seen in the minute Part of the World, and that with great Pleasure and Satisfaction, from all which Particulars, we are satisfied, that such amazing Things could not possibly be without a first Mover, without the Existence of an Almighty Being: And as we know the wonderful God to be Almighty, so we cannot help believing but that he is also good, not implacable; not like such Wretches as Men are, not taking Delight in the Miseries of his Creatures; for which Reason we resign up our Breaths unto him, without any terrible Apprehensions, submitting ourselves to those Ways, which in his Goodness he shall please to appoint after Death. We also believe the Existence of unbody’d Creatures, and think we have Reason for that Belief, altho’ we don’t pretend to know their Way of subsisting.
We are not ignorant of those Laws made in Terrorem; but leave the Disposal of our Bodies to the Wisdom of the Coroner and his Jury; the Thing being indifferent to us where our Bodies are laid: From whence it will appear how little anxious we are about a Hic jacet; we for our Parts neither expect, nor desire such Honours, but shall content ourselves with a borrowed Epitaph, viz.
‘Without a Name, for ever silent, dumb,
Dust, Ashes, nought else is within this Tomb.
Where we were born or bred, it matters not,
Who were our Parents, or have us begot.
We were, but are not: think no more of us;
For as we are, so you’ll be turn’d to Dust.
‘It is the Opinion of Naturalists, that our Bodies are at certain Stages of Life compos’d of new Matter, so that a great many poor People have new Bodies oftner than new Cloaths: Now as Divines are not able to inform us which of those several Bodies shall rise at the Resurrection, it is very probable, that the deceased Body may be for ever silent as well as any other.’
Sign’d,
Richard Smith.
Bridget Smith.
The Coroner’s Inquest, after the usual Formalities, brought in their Verdict, whereby they declared Richard Smith guilty of that Crime, which they call in England, Felo de se, or Self-Murder; and of Wilful Murder as to his Child. Bridget was brought in a Lunatic, tho’ she had sign’d the Letter with her Husband, and acknowledged
that she was equally concerned in the Murder of her Child; so that I think her Corpse deserved hanging, at least for a little while: And sure I am, that she would not have been found a Lunatic here.
There being commonly some little Piece of Entertainment at the End of Tragedies, I am now to divert you with some such Farce. ’Tis the Adventure of a certain pert Coxcomb of a Counsellor, with the Abbé de Vayrac, an Author, and a Man of[77]Wit. Not many Days ago, as the Abbé was walking on Foot, he was overtaken with a Shower of Rain, which made him take Shelter under a Penthouse, at a Shop-door. At the same Time, who should pass by in a magnificent Coach, driving at a mad Rate, as if he would run over every Thing in his Way, but a Counsellor, whose furious Career was stopp’d all on a sudden, by something that broke his Harness! This Disaster happen’d just at the Place Where the Abbé de Vayrac stood, dress’d like other Authors, with an old tatter’d Hat upon his Head, and a shabby Cloak over a Coat quite thread-bare. The Thing that most diverted the Counsellor, was his Hat, and he order’d one of his Lacqueys to ask him, if it was not as old as the Battle of[78]Rocroy. You must know, the Lacqueys of this Country are more brazen-fac’d and insolent than they
are any-where else; and the Counsellor’s discharg’d his Errand to a Tittle. M. l’Abbé, said he, in a Droll Tone, my Master wants to know in what Battle your Hat receiv’d all those Wounds. At the Battle of Cannæ, Friend, reply’d the Abbé; and then he laid on five or six heavy Blows upon the impudent Ambassador’s Shoulders with his Cane. The Counsellor, seeing his Domestic so soundly drubb’d, stepp’d instantly out of his Coach, and running to the Abbé, said, What are you doing? The Abbé reply’d very sedately, I am chastising Insolence. Parbleu, M. l’Abbé, said the Counsellor, I think you are a pleasant Fellow to presume to strike a Servant of mine! Surely you don’t know me; for if you did, you would have more Respect for my Livery. Pardon me, reply’d the Abbé, I know you very well. And who am I? said the Counsellor. Why you are a Fool, reply’d the Abbé; upon which the Gentleman thought fit to sneak off. This is a very true Story; for I had it from the Abbé de Vayrac himself, who told it to me with the same Gravity as he had answer’d the Counsellor.
Tho’ Lacqueys are not commonly the Subjects of Conversation, yet I think that those of Paris deserve some Notice. They form so considerable a Body, that there are many Kings who have not so numerous an Army. Besides, these Fellows make such extraordinary Fortunes, and often rise so quick from Valets, to be Masters and Gentlemen, that really they ought not to be confounded in the Lump with the European Lacqueys. Those of ’em who set up for fine Fellows, as many of ’em do, (for in the Livery of Paris, you meet with every Thing that is handsome and gay) such, I say, as are in the Service of some young Noblemen, are commonly Equals and Companions with their Masters. There are others who are the Darlings of the Fair Sex; and if Satire may
be credited, and Appearances, perhaps, into the Bargain, there are Ladies even of the first Quality, who don’t always treat their Lacqueys like Servants. ’Tis true, they most commonly take them out of the Livery, and in order to bring them near their Persons, they make them their Pages, or Valets de Chambre. Nothing is thought too good for these Favourites of Venus; they are rigg’d out like Princes, and were you to see one of these fortunate Lacqueys, you would naturally take him for some Person of Consequence. And indeed, there are some who act the Man of Quality to such a Perfection, that nothing can exceed it; and they have often better Manners than their Masters. The Airs of Importance, and of Quality, are very natural to the French. There are others of the menial Class, that enjoy the Favour of their young Masters, in a Way so uncommon, that one knows not what to think of it; and many of those young Gentlemen, forgetting the Respect that is due to their own Persons, and their Families, make Parties at Supper with ’em, at which Time, I fansy, Conversation is the least Part of the Entertainment. But such is the Spirit of Debauchery, that it has infected the Generality of the young People at Court; tho’ ’tis true enough, that it ever was so.
I don’t say that excessive Debauchery is the universal Goût of the Nation; for, on the contrary, the French are virtuous from the Cradle to the Grave, if they are but so happy as to get over the four or five Years of juvenile Fury, and to surmount the tumultuous Passions which their great Vivacity kindles in their Breasts, and prompts them to do Things at twenty Years of Age, which at thirty they detest and abhor; and I affirm of the French in general, that they are not vicious by Inclination. The Nobleman is infinitely more so,
than the Bulk of the People; and whether it is bad Company, bad Counsel, or whatever else that misleads him, he thinks that to be debauch’d gives him a fine Air; and many of ’em really boast of being greater Deboshees, than in Fact they are.
But this does not seem to me to be the Case of the Women (I mean of those who are not very rigidly attach’d to the Precepts of Virtue). They always preserve an Appearance of Decency, which imposes on such as don’t know them: Nor is their Conversation licentious; and if they are naughty, ’tis in private. ’Tis certain that our Countrymen don’t do the French Ladies Justice. Many of our young Fellows, when they come home from Paris, affecting to be Coxcombs, tell Stories so much to the Disadvantage of the Fair Sex, that most of the German Gentlemen, and especially of our Ladies, think the Reverse of what they ought to do. Virtue and Modesty are as eminent among the Sex here as elsewhere; and those Whifflers, that give themselves the Liberty of scandalizing them, very often know not how to call one Woman of Quality by her right Name, and even never saw her Antichamber. ’Tis certain, that there are Women of Quality here, who have laid aside the Mask; but of these there are so few, that the whole Sex ought not to be reproach’d for their Misconduct. I give you my Word and Honour, that there are fine young Ladies here, born to charm our Sex, whom Calumny itself is obliged to respect; and I don’t see what more can be desired. I’ll vouch the same for the young Gentlemen, of whom indeed, the greatest Number is very much debauch’d, but there are some that have not quitted the Reins of Modesty. A Tremouille, a Luxembourg, a Boufflers, and many more, may be set up as Examples to
our Youth, who, perhaps, would be worse than the Youth of France, if they were enter’d as young into Company, and seated in the Centre of Joy and Pleasures. But I perceive, that instead of a Letter I am drawing a Case. Therefore here I drop my Brief, and think my Epistle long enough to be concluded. I am intirely Yours, &c.
