Strange tales are told of the orgies of this select band which the Regent gathered around him—­orgies which shocked even the France of the eighteenth century, when she was the acknowledged leader in licence.  At six o’clock every evening Philippe’s kingship ended for the day.  He had had enough—­more than enough—­of State and ceremonial, of interviewing ambassadors, and of the flatteries of Princes and the obsequious homage of courtiers.  Pleasure called him away from the boredom of empire; and at the stroke of six we find him retiring to the company of his mistresses and his roues to feast and drink and gamble until dawn broke on the revelry—­his laugh the loudest, his wit the most dazzling, his stories the most piquant, keeping the table in a roar with his infectious gaiety.  He was Regent no longer; he was simply a bon camarade, as ready to exchange familiarities with a “lady of the ballet” as to lead the laughter at a joke at his own expense.

At nine o’clock, when the fun had waxed furious and wine had set the slowest tongue wagging and every eye a-sparkle, other guests streamed in to join the orgy—­the most beautiful ladies of the Court, from the Duchesse de Gesores and Madame de Mouchy to the Regent’s own daughter, the Duchesse de Berry, who, young as she was, had little to learn of the arts of dissipation.  And in the wake of these high-born women would follow laughing, bright-eyed troupes of dancing and chorus-girls from the theatres with an escort of the cleverest actors of Paris, to join the Regent’s merry throng.

The champagne now flowed in rivers; the servants were sent away; the doors were locked and the fun grew riotous; ceremony had no place there; rank and social distinctions were forgotten.  Countesses flirted with comedians; Princes made love to ballet-girls and duchesses alike.  The leader of the moment was the man or woman who could sing the most daring song, tell the most piquant story, or play the most audacious practical joke, even on the Regent himself.  Sometimes, we are told, the lights would be extinguished, and the orgy continued under the cover of darkness, until the Regent suddenly opened a cupboard, in which lights were concealed—­to an outburst of shrieks of laughter at the scenes revealed.

Thus the mad night hours passed until dawn came to bring the revels to a close; or until the Regent would sally forth with a few chosen comrades on a midnight ramble to other haunts of pleasure in the capital—­the lower the better.  Such was the way in which Philippe of Orleans, Regent of France, spent his nights.  A few hours after the carouse had ended he would resume his sceptre, as austere and dignified a ruler as you would find in Europe.

It must not be imagined that Philippe was the only Royal personage who thus set a scandalous example to France.  There was, in fact, scarcely a Prince or Princess of the Blood Royal whose love affairs were not conducted flagrantly in the eyes of the world, from the Dowager Duchesse de Bourbon, who lavished her favours on the Scotch financier, John Law, of Lauriston, to the Princesse de Conte, who mingled her piety with a marked partiality for her nephew, Le Kalliere.