This anecdote, evidently related to console the Marquise,
filled her with gratitude. They spoke of nothing
else at Versailles for two days; after which, Madame
la Comtesse d’Aubigne became, in her turn, a
woman of experience, who judged the new debutantes
severely, perhaps, every time that the occasion arose.
The Comte d’Aubigne passed from an inferior
government to a government of some importance.
He made himself beloved by endorsing a thousand petitions
destined for his sister, the monarch’s friend;
but his immoderate expenditure caused him to contract
debts that his sister would only pay five or six times.
The Duc de Vivonne, my brother, laughed at him in
society; he unceasingly outraged by his clumsiness
his sister’s sense of discretion. One day,
in a gaming-house, seeing the table covered with gold,
the Marshal exclaimed at the door: “I will
wager that D’Aubigne is here, and makes all this
display; it is a magnificence worthy of him.”
“Yes, truly,” said the brother of the
favourite; “I have received my silver staff,
you see!” That was an uncouth impertinence,
for assuredly M. de Vivonne had not owed this dignity
to my favour. The siege of Candia, and a thousand
other distinguished actions, in which he had immortalised
himself, called him to this exalted position, which
I dare to say he has even rendered illustrious.
The Comte d’Aubigne’s saying was no less
successful on that account, and his sister, who did
not approve at all of this scandalous scene, had the
good sense to condemn her most ridiculous gamester,
and to make excuses for him to my brother and me.
Political Intrigue in Hungary.—Dignity
of the King of the Romans.—The Good Appearance
of a German Prince.—The Turks at Vienna.—The
Duc de Lorraine.—The King of Rome.
Whatever the conduct of the King may have been towards
me, I do not write out of resentment or to avenge
myself. But in the midst of the peace which
the leisure that he has given me leaves me, I feel
some satisfaction in inditing the memoirs of my life,
which was attached to his so closely, and wish to
relate with sincerity the things I have seen.
What would be the use of memoirs from which sincerity
were absent? Whom could they inspire with a
desire of reading them?
The King was born profoundly ambitious. All
the actions of his public life bore witness to it.
It would be useless for him to rebut the charge;
all his aims, all his political work, all his sieges,
all his battles, all his bloody exploits prove it.
He had robbed the Emperor of an immense quantity
of towns and territories in succession. The
greatness of the House of Austria irritated him.
He had begun by weakening it in order to dominate
it; and, in bringing it under his sway, he hoped to
draw to himself the respect and submission of the Germanic
Electoral body, and cause the Imperial Crown to pass
to his house, as soon as the occasion should present
itself.
