Memoirs of Louis XIV and His Court and of the Regency — Volume 10 — A Reader’s Guide

(0 User reviews) 707

In Category - Modern Nations

Authors: Saint-Simon, Louis de Rouvroy, duc de, 1675-1755 Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2004 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: France -- Court and courtiers; France -- History -- Louis XIV, 1643-1715; France -- History -- Regency, 1715-1723 Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

Edition facts

Words 30,269

Reading time 132 min

Text sections 3

The source record for Memoirs of Louis XIV and His Court and of the Regency — Volume 10 — A Reader’s Guide measures this digital text at 30,269 words, 2 hr 12 min estimated reading time, and 3 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 24.9 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “France -- Court and courtiers,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #3869

Saint-Simon's portrait of Louis XIV's final month and the Regency's onset, focusing on the Duc d'Orléans's character and the King's surveillance-driven court dynamics.

Editorial Edition Score 4.5/5

★★★★★ ★★★★★

Calculated from edition completeness, EPUB availability, text structure and catalogue metadata. Not a user rating.

How this score is calculated

Description quality20 pts
Title & short description10 pts
Source metadata20 pts
Text length15 pts
Chapters / structure15 pts
EPUB file integrity20 pts

Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.

Edition quality

File: pg3869

Read the Text

Scarcely had I sat down than Madame la Duchesse began to talk of some of those execrable imputations concerning M. d'Orleans unceasingly circulated by Madame de Maintenon and M. du Maine; and of an incident arising therefrom, in which the Prince and the Cardinal de Rohan had played a part against M. d'Orleans. I sympathised with her all the more because the Duke, I knew not why, had always distinguished and courted those two brothers, and thought he could count upon them. "And what will you say of M. d'Orleans," added the Duchesse, "when I tell you that since he has known this, known it beyond doubt, he treats them exactly the same as before?"

I looked at M. d'Orleans, who had uttered only a few words to confirm the story, as it was being told, and who was negligently lolling in his chair, and I said to him with warmth:

"Oh, as to that, Monsieur, the truth must be told; since Louis the Debonnaire, never has there been such a Debonnaire as you."

At these words he rose in his chair, red with anger to the very whites of his eyes, and blurted out his vexation against me for abusing him, as he pretended, and against Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans for encouraging me and laughing at him.

"Go on," said I, "treat your enemies well, and rail at your friends. I am delighted to see you angry. It is a sign that I have touched the sore point, when you press the finger on it the patient cries. I should like to squeeze out all the matter, and after that you would be quite another man, and differently esteemed."

He grumbled a little more, and then calmed down. This was one of two occasions only, on which he was ever really angry with me.

Two or three years after the death of the King, I was chatting in one of the grand rooms of the Tuileries, where the Council of the Regency was, according to custom, soon to be held, and M. d'Orleans at the other end was talking to some one in a window recess. I heard myself called from mouth to mouth, and was told that M. d'Orleans wished to speak to me. This often happened before the Council. I went therefore to the window where he was standing. I found a serious bearing, a concentrated manner, an angry face, and was much surprised.

"Monsieur," said he to me at once, "I have a serious complaint against you; you, whom I have always regarded as my best of friends."

"Against me! Monsieur!" said I, still more surprised. "What is the matter, then, may I ask?"

"The matter!" he replied with a mien still more angry; "something you cannot deny; verses you have made against me."

"I--verses!" was my reply. "Why, who the devil has been telling you such nonsense? You have been acquainted with me nearly forty years, and do you not know, that never in my life have I been able to make a single verse--much less verses?"

"No, no, by Heaven," replied he, "you cannot deny these;" and forthwith he began to sing to me a street song in his praise, the chorus of which was: 'Our Regent is debonnaire, la la, he is debonnaire,' with a burst of laughter.

"What!" said I, "you remember it still!" and smiling, I added also, "since you are revenged for it, remember it in good earnest." He kept on laughing a long time before going to the Council, and could not hinder himself. I have not been afraid to write this trifle, because it seems to me that it paints the man.

Continue Reading →

Saint-Simon opens this volume by declaring the reign of Louis XIV 'approaching its conclusion,' immediately framing the narrative as a transition. He insists that the King's last month and the events after his death 'cannot be separated,' a structural choice that binds the memoir's final chapters to the Regency's beginnings. The author then pauses the chronology to sketch the Duc d'Orléans, the future Regent, in a detailed character study that occupies much of the excerpt.

A Regent's Paradox: Grace and Indolence

Saint-Simon's description of the Duc d'Orléans is a study in contradictions. He notes the Duke's 'mediocre stature' yet 'infinite grace' in movement, his poor dancing and riding skills contrasted with a 'surprisingly easy flow of words' on any subject. The memoirist emphasizes that Orléans appeared well-read without being a great reader—he 'skimmed' books but retained names and dates with 'singular' precision. This paradox of natural eloquence versus superficial study becomes a recurring motif. Saint-Simon also hints at a darker side: the Duke's 'facile and charming access' masks an indolence that will later complicate his regency. The portrait is not flattery but a clinical inventory of strengths and weaknesses, typical of Saint-Simon's method.

The King's Invisible Web

Saint-Simon dissects Louis XIV's system of surveillance with chilling specificity. The King 'could not bear people who liked Paris,' and he 'marked well all absentees from the Court,' punishing them with 'certain disgrace.' The memoirist enumerates the King's informants: 'spies and tell-tales were infinite,' including those who wrote directly via 'back stairs' and those unaware their reports reached him. This network ruined 'an infinite number of people of all classes, who never could discover the cause.' Saint-Simon also notes the King's 'excellent memory' for past offenses, even if the offence itself was forgotten—a trait that made royal disfavor irrevocable. The passage reveals a court governed not by merit but by the King's omniscient, unforgiving gaze.

Versailles as a Stage for Favor

The memoir traces how Louis XIV's love for Madame de la Vallière led to frequent stays at Versailles, then a 'little card castle' built by Louis XIII. Saint-Simon contrasts the old king's rare, necessity-driven visits with his son's deliberate use of the palace for 'private promenades' and 'fetes' designed to 'distinguish or mortify the courtiers.' The King invented 'ideal' favours—'little preferences and petty distinctions'—to maintain devotion when real rewards were scarce. Saint-Simon observes that the King 'noticed everybody' during his daily routines, from rising to walking in the gardens, and that even 'inferior degree' courtiers were scrutinized. Versailles thus becomes a physical manifestation of the King's control, a stage where presence or absence determined one's fate.

Narrative Interruption and the Regent's Shadow

Saint-Simon explicitly breaks the chronological flow to explain 'the projects, the thoughts, the difficulties' that occupied the Duc d'Orléans before the King's death. He calls this a 'thorny path' and promises to resume the narrative afterward. This structural choice foregrounds the Regent's psychology over mere event-recording. The memoirist's digression—covering Orléans's 'impediments interior and exterior'—suggests that the coming Regency will be shaped by the Duke's character as much as by political circumstance. Saint-Simon's method here is analytical: he treats the future Regent as a case study, dissecting his 'face, gestures, all his movements' to predict his governance. The reader is left to weigh whether Orléans's 'natural eloquence' and 'facile access' will serve or undermine his rule.

Saint-Simon's memoir demands attention to its authorial voice: the Duke writes as a participant-observer, blending personal acquaintance with retrospective judgment. Readers should note how he uses physical description as moral shorthand—Orléans's 'high colour' and 'broad face' are not idle details but clues to temperament. The excerpts reveal a writer who values precision over sentiment, even when depicting his own patron. Approach this volume as a character-driven political analysis, not a neutral chronicle.

Reading again how Saint-Simon watched Louis XIV’s court dissolve into surveillance and whispered loyalties, I remembered another sort of secret society — one that thrived not in glittering halls but across ordinary American towns. There is something haunting about hidden bonds, whether woven by royal favour or by oaths. The Secret Band of Brothers A Full and True Exposition of All the Various Crimes, Villanies, and Misdeeds of This Powerful Organization in the United States. — Text and Context felt eerily familiar, a quieter echo of that same shadow.