At the time that we were endeavouring at the means of navigation, a projector presented a scheme to the King, for rendering France navigable. The object was the junction of two seas, by the means of two rivers. This man at first applied to me, and I sent him to M. Belleisle, who thought this project of great utility to the state. But several politicians were of a different opinion. They said that this junction would lessen the navigation, which should on the contrary be encreased. The English were quoted, who might easily shorten the course of their sea voyages, and who endeavoured to prolong them. But what may be judicious in this respect for Great Britain, might be very impolitic for France.
I mention these particular transactions, because they fell immediately under my notice, and the King did me the honour to consult me upon them. I shall pass over in silence such schemes as were offered to the administration during my residence at court, and which did not take place.
When the King acquainted me with the death of the duke of Orleans, who died the fourth of July 1752, he seemed greatly affected at it. Sudden deaths made a great impression upon Lewis XV. Philip of Orleans finished his career at that age when most men begin theirs. This prince was a striking example of the contrast there often is in the characters of a father and a son.
This Prince had nothing of the Regent’s disposition. He had passed his time in praying and bestowing alms. Each day of his life was distinguished by some christian act. Brought up in the center of pleasures, he shunned them at an age when the passions strongly plead for gratification, and when it is very difficult to resist their intreaties.
The curate of St. Sulpice said, that if he had been Pope, he would have canonized the Duke of Orleans, had he possessed no other virtue than having resisted the example of the royal palace. We well knew that the Regent’s house was not the model for christian virtues. The Cardinal du Bois, who ridiculed men, politics and religion, made it the residence of vice and debauchery.
But the Duke of Orleans, who is the subject of our present consideration, possessed none but those virtues which do honour in heaven, and not those which characterize great princes upon earth. His house, which he had divested of all regal magnificence, resembled a convent, of which he was the superior. He supported by charity an infinite number of people, who having no other care than that of receiving it, lived in idleness and effeminacy. His bigotry had made him retire from public affairs, and induced him to let the state take care of itself, at a time that it stood in the most need of assistance.
It is well known that the Princes of the blood who have a watchful eye over the government, keep the ministers in awe, and prevent their being guilty of malversation. Such is the fate of the French monarchy, that the great in France either give themselves up to debauchery, or turn hermits.
The death of Madame Henriette, which succeeded that of the Duke of Orleans, filled the court with mourning, and the King’s heart with sorrow. This Princess was endued with those qualities which endear the great: naturally gentle and affable, she was beloved by all that approached her. A good heart, and a compassionate sympathetic soul, formed her general character; the Parisians did not sufficiently lament her loss: they have no affection but for their Kings; they have none remaining for the royal family.
A foreigner, who was acquainted with the genius of our nation, said to me; “If France were deprived of the Dauphin, before he mounted the throne, no one would regret his loss; but that if he died six months after having wore the crown, all the world would weep for him. He added, that it was not the loss of the person, but the name of King that was regretted in France.”
By the death of Madame Henriette, I discovered in Lewis XV. the qualities of a good father. Tears streamed from his eyes, and his melancholy surpassed his usual hypocondriac disposition. I exerted all my abilities to asswage his grief: but he paid all the rights that nature could extort, before they took effect.