Part 9

For my part, I attributed it to the humour for new foundations, which prevails with all the princes of our days. On examining the constitution of the Prussian government, which is an absolute monarchy, the plurality of religions will by no means appear suitable to it; at least I have heard from a very intelligent person, that it is only in republics where a freedom of religion can be properly allowed.

For some time the King had been more chearful than usual: after so many vexations and fatigues, he now began to breathe a little; he was at leisure to be often with me, and to hunt as much as he could. Never was a Prince so fond of this exercise. His eagerness in it often fatigued him beyond all bounds. I one day represented to him, that he made a toil of that pleasure, and that it would be better for him to be more moderate in it; that excess in any thing was hurtful: but he answered, that the more he hunted, the better he found himself. This is a new medical system; the court-physicians, who are all for motion and agitation, will have kings to spend half their life on horse-back.

But a great satisfaction, which that justly beloved Prince now felt, was the having given some relief to his burthened subjects. He had remitted three millions of the land-tax, abolished the hundredth denier, and the pence per livres levied on this impost. Though this was no great good, it presaged the end of a great evil.

At the same time, Lewis XV. ordered an inquiry into the nature of the taxes; of all imposts, the land-tax was found to be the most burthensome, as not proportioned to the real income. The old tax was still levied, without considering any decays, or damages of estates and lands; many a market-town, or village, which had formerly been able to pay large sums, was now no longer so; yet the same duty was required.

The government deliberated on ways for abolishing such an unequal tax, and substitute another of a more proportionate assessment. This had, for some time past, been often proposed, but always rejected. It was now again taken into consideration, and after the most minute discussions, it was found best to leave things as they were, lest worse inconveniences might ensue. It is said, there are abuses in government, the reformation of which would do more harm than the very abuse itself. This was the opinion of the ministers, and of the King himself; but it was not mine, having always thought that no good can come from evil. We had often little debates about government, for Lewis XV. as I have said in the beginning of these Memoirs, has a great deal of wit and good-sense, and especially a very ready penetration. “You, Madam, would he say to me, look on the political community as a private family, whereas it is to be considered as an universal society, consisting of different bodies, the conjunction of which constitutes the state. Amidst this immensity of objects, conducted by men of opposite views and interests; the security and well-being of the state is upheld by those very things which seem to undermine it. In a private family, there is only one single plan of administration, the abuses are few, easily animadverted on, and the reformation of them restores that unity of government which is the perfection of such a society: but in the general community, good is to be continually ballanced by evil, and in this equipoize lies the political order of the state.”

“If so, Sir, said I to him, how is it that those states, where the most abuses are reformed, are the best governed. The Muscovites, of all the European nations, were the least civilized, and consequently the most unhappy, till Peter the Great appeared, who vigorously suppressing abuses of all kinds, from his reformation has sprung a powerful nation, a rich and happy people.

“Brandenburgh had neither force nor power; the art of war was scarce known there; it lay in obscurity; it was of no account among the states of Europe; and this contemptible condition was, in a great measure, owing to many abuses which its sovereigns either could not or would not reform. But in our times, one of its sovereigns has suppressed abuses, introduced political order and military discipline, and this reformation has enabled him to act a capital part on the theatre of Europe.”

“England is said once to have been nothing, till the parliament took in hand to form its power. It has since been continually retouching the political system, and correcting a number of abuses, which, for several centuries, hindered this state from emerging into power and reputation; and now its _bills_ shew the continued system of its greatness.

“France, Sir, is a home instance of this. Lewis XIII. a weak Prince, and wholly governed by his ministers, concerned not himself about abuses; he left the state as he found it, full of mismanagement and disorder. Your great grand-father changed the whole, and by the reformation he brought about in all the branches of government, imparted, as it were, a new genius to his people.

“France, during the first years of Lewis XIV. rose to a pitch of glory and grandeur beyond any thing ever seen in the Roman empire.”

Here the King smiled, and very obligingly said to me, “I own, Madam, I did not think you had been so well acquainted with these points; it gives me infinite pleasure that, besides the graces of wit and vivacity, you are possessed of that knowledge which enlarges and revives the judgment. The world is often deceived in those matters, continued the King, and the greatness of Princes is almost ever confounded with the happiness of the people. A Sovereign may make reformations in his kingdom, and his subjects be never the better for them; he is the only gainer by the change.

“Peter I. made considerable alterations in Muscovy, but did not thereby make the Russians a whit the happier. The revolution was felt only by the state. The Monarch became great and powerful, but the people still continued little and mean; for to have brought them from the abject state in which they then were, required the suppression of a multitude of civil abuses and vices, which continued after his time, and still subsist. The present Muscovites are sordid slaves, with all the ignorance and superstition of their fore-fathers, who lived before the reign of that great reformer Peter. And if the empire, once without a soldier, has now a numerous army; yet this adventitious power depends on the chance of a battle or two.

“Prussia, with all the reformations made there, does not find itself more happy. The people, amidst their Monarch’s victories, groan under the weight of the military burden laid on them; and its power depends on the existence of one single man. When Frederick comes to die, its political state dies with him.

“It is a question, continued the King, much debated, whether the English are more powerful, and more happy, than they were before those volumes of reforming _bills_ were in being: this is a point the nation itself is not agreed on. There is a party in England which affirms that the government is intirely ruined, and the political state indebted beyond what it is able to pay; and that it cannot answer its necessities. Yet I am inclined to think that England is increased in strength; but this is rather owing to the inadvertency of other powers, than to any reformations of its own, which would have profited very little, had its neighbours followed its example.

“As to the instance of our own country, I have wished that France had been in the same situation, at my accession to the throne, that Lewis XIII. left it in. His successor, what with reformations, splendor, and glory, reduced it so low, that it will be ages before it is thoroughly recovered.”

Our political discussions were always mixed with politeness and compliments; never did a word come from Lewis XV’s mouth which had any thing of asperity in it, &c.

England still kept a watchful eye on the French navy; and, on our side, the increase of it was the ministry’s chief object. All M. Rouille’s demands of money were immediately answered, and he lost no time: ships were daily launched.

France and England were, indeed, at peace; but acted with the same mistrust as if at open war; the public expences rose high; yet the French, who are continually complaining, did not in the least murmur, so convinced was every one of the absolute necessity of having a navy capable of facing that of Great Britain.

In the mean time, all the ministers continued declaring themselves against me; the very persons who, through my interest with his Majesty, had been promoted to the object of their wishes, were the most forward in promoting my disgrace. Since my living at Versailles, I have often lamented this flagitiousness, which is, as it were, innate in the human mind. No sooner is a man invested with honour and power, than he studies to cut off the hand which raised him. It is not my intention to enter into all the arts and practices of my enemies; there would be no end of the allusions, tales, stories, and songs, industriously disseminated over the kingdom to expose me. However, I was always exactly informed of what was said about me; but of some of my revilers I took no notice; others I threatened to complain of to the King. All, however, continued their abuses: I was a thousand times for leaving the court, had I not apprehended that the King being now habituated to see me daily, it might shorten his valuable life.

The Count de Argenson, secretary at war, did not love me, saying, “That I gave too many military posts; that he had not so much as a lieutenancy of foot at his disposal.” Now this accusation was so far from being true, that I never recommended any person to his Majesty, without previously consulting that Minister. It was purely my favour which rankled him; he wanted to set the King against me, that he might ingross the whole royal favour to himself.

Peace being the season for public foundations, a plan of a military school, for instructing the French nobility in the art of war, was laid before his Majesty in the year 1751. _The kingdom_, said the author, _was full of gentlemen who, unable, conveniently, to put themselves under masters, led an inactive life in the country, instead of spending it in the service of the state_.

In this school five hundred gentlemen were to be boarded and educated: the King was pleased to shew me the plan, and asked my thoughts on it.

“Sir, said I, nothing can be better; I could only wish it more comprehensive. This school will not furnish officers enough for France, which is so frequently at war. I have heard Marshal Saxe say, That in an army of two hundred and fifty thousand men, there was seldom less than twenty thousand officers; so that only one fortieth of that number can be had from the military-school, which to me appears no small defect in a foundation, of itself, so excellent.”

A courtier, on reading the plan for this school, jocularly said, _This martial convent will afford very good military monks_.

The great objection made against it, by some discreet persons, was the exorbitant expence of it, at a time when every resource of the state had been drained to defray the extraordinary demands of the war. The expence, indeed, was not to be furnished from the royal treasury; but from whatever fund sums are taken on such occasions, they are still burthensome, as tending to keep the people poor.

It was likewise said, that France stood more in need of a naval than a military-school; that the King might find a hundred land-officers in his dominions, for one sea-officer; that the French gentry was naturally fond of signalizing itself in armies, and had as great an aversion to fleets; but the plan had been resolved on.

The powers of Europe were at peace, when religious disputes, breaking out, disturbed France in its political and domestic quiet.

Two parties, who, for forty years past, had been contending for the superiority, now returned to the charge. Being quite ignorant of the subject of their quarrels, I had it explained to me. Should ever these Memoirs be made public, the reader will be so kind as to excuse my tiring him with the following detail. Never had this evil found a place in these annals, had it not concerned the King; but his interesting himself in this dispute, and greatly so, is alone sufficient motive for my giving some account of it.

A native of Spain, named Molina, in the fullness of his knowledge, took it into his head to decide, and vindicate, how God acts on mortals, and in what manner mortals withstand God. The Popes, who know every thing, and pronounce sentence on every thing, had, till then, been totally unacquainted with the mechanism of the metaphysical intercourse between the Creator and creature; and, for their better information, Molina invented many barbarous words, or scholastic terms, with innumerable distinctions and divisions.

To proceed in this dispute with some order, and wrangle theologically, he distinguished between _preventive_ and _co-operating grace_: one of these graces could do any thing, and the other little or nothing; but this not being sufficient for understanding what he himself did not understand, he farther invented the _mediate knowledge_ and _congruism_.

According to him, God held a council of state in Heaven, before which all men were summoned and interrogated, how they will act after receiving his grace; and, according to the free use which he saw they were to make of it, he decreed within himself, either to admit them into Paradise, or call them down into hell.

Unluckily for the Christian world, this Molina was a Jesuit; an order little beloved by the others: the Dominicans, especially, raised an outcry against his congruism.

These things being transacted in Spain, the Inquisition took cognizance of the altercation; and had they burned Molina, and a few Dominicans, there would have been an end of the matter, and, for once, this tribunal had done a good piece of service to Christendom. _Concomitant concurrence_ and _co-operating grace_ had a trial at Rome; but the more the parties disputed, the less understood they one another. A monk offered his mediation: but this mediator was less intelligible than the controversists.

The difficulty was not so much the putting an end to the dispute, as to know what the dispute was about. Neither party understood themselves or the other, and, in the mean time, with their free-will, mediate knowledge, complement of active virtue, &c. they ran themselves more and more into darkness.

The bickerings, at length, ceased for want of disputants, there being times when monks sacrifice every thing to indolence. All remained quiet, till one Cornelius Jansenius renewed the contest; yet, instead of inventing any thing, he only disputed behind a huge book, the author of which was named Baius. The Jesuits sollicited the Pope to condemn Cornelius, and by the dexterity of their agents at Rome, carried their point there; but in other parts of Europe, it went against them. The universities, the parliaments, and chiefly the women, profound judges of such things, sided with Jansenius.

A paper war commenced with great acrimony; congruism, by dint of bulky volumes, worsted predestination in some pitched battles: yet the war went on undecided; both parties being now grown powerful, and fighting merely for the honour of victory.

Till then, only private persons had appeared in the field; but now universities declaring themselves, the action became general. No accommodation was so much as talked of, there being no body, or society, in the state, of a power sufficient to compel the two parties to accept of its mediation.

In the mean time, the Molinist bishops drew up a condemnation of Jansenius’s five articles, though, in the opinion of his party, they were no more than what St. Augustine himself had advanced. Several communities of men signed the condemnation; but the nuns, who have nothing to do, and eagerly catch at every opportunity which may bring them into the world again, protested against subscribing; and those of Port Royal distinguished themselves by their firmness, or obstinacy.

I do not wonder that they refused subscribing, but am surprised that their subscription should have been required; it was shewing them a regard, on this affair, which ought not to have been shewn them: on their pertinacious refusal, they were forcibly removed, and dispersed into other convents; whereas the real punishment would have been to have kept them always in the same spot.

The Popes, likewise, from time to time, issued new formularies, which gave an air of greater moment to the quarrel; but they had done much better to have left it to itself, and then Molina and Jansenius would soon have sunk into oblivion; but the court of Rome is ever for being absolute.

In the midst of this war, however, a truce was brought about. Clement IX. a man of good sense and prudence, drew up a set of articles of capitulation, had them signed by the Jansenists, and thus, brought about a peace; but, unhappily, when religion is in the case, war soon kindles again.

A father of the oratory, named Quesnel, is said, this time, to have been the instrument of discord. He wrote a book which, after being applauded throughout all Europe, France censured. It was not very easy to point out wherein this book was to be found fault with; but religious cabals were then in fashion. The Molinist party, in the mean time, carried it with a high hand, having the King’s ear.

The confessor to Lewis XIV. was a Jesuit, who formed parties both at court and in town, against the Jansenists, who keenly revenged themselves with their pens; thus, though there was a prevailing party, the war still continued.

Hitherto no manifestos had passed between the Molinists and the Jansenists, both parties, in the heat of their zeal, having taken up arms without any declaration of war. Lewis XIV. procured from Rome a bull, whereby a fire was kindled, which has not since been quenched. The Pope, the bishops, the King, the religious orders, in short, people of all ranks gradually engaged in the quarrel, to the great disturbance of the nation and families; all plotting and caballing one against the other.

The principal object of public hatred was father Le Tellier, who over-ruled the King’s conscience: this was a hot and ambitious man, who wanted to revenge some personal offences given him by the Jansenists, and, in pursuit of his drift, alarmed both the King’s conscience and the kingdom.

Lewis XIV. towards the decline of his life, was grown weak and irresolute, and often harrassed with terrible fears of the devil. The hard-hearted Jesuit had possessed him with a persuasion, that the affair of the Molinists was the cause of God. His resentment chiefly aimed at the cardinal de Noailles, and he had the confidence to move his penitent to depose him judicially. The death of this Prince brought on a suspension of this bustle, which was called the constitution.

The Duke of Orleans, who loved neither popes nor bishops, and despised bulls, in order to rid himself both of the Molinists and Jansenists, appointed commissioners for hearing their broils, separately from the other affairs of the monarchy; with an intent to deprive them of their public importance: but the wisdom of this precaution was frustrated; those people still were for figuring in the state. They appealed to a national council, which was nothing less than throwing off the yoke of the administration, to erect another independent of it. The regent banished and exiled both bishops and priests; but this remedy only inflamed the disease, hardening both parties in their obstinacy. The Jansenists and Molinists then formed themselves into two factions, under the names of _acceptants_ and _recusants_. The Acceptants called the Recusants heretics, and the Recusants gave the appellation of schismatics to the Acceptants.

The frenzy for efficacious grace was bursting out with greater violence than ever, when the Missisippi scheme was set on foot; then avarice did what neither the Pope nor King could: all the people’s thoughts now ran only on getting money. The names of Jansenists and Molinists were almost forgotten, though to this nothing perhaps contributed more than the contempt and ridicule which the Duke of Orleans put on this controversy, calling it a trifle; whereas Lewis XIV. had been made to lay it to heart, as an affair of the greatest concern.

The subsequent wars under Lewis XV. made the Jansenists and Molinists to be still farther forgotten, though not without some occasional skirmishes on predestination; but as there was no general action, they were not much heeded.

The dispute, in the mean time, was not totally extinguished, or rather it was a-fire lurking under embers. In 1750, the Molinists renewed hostilities, refusing the Sacraments to sick persons of the contrary party, under pretence of their not having confessional certificates.

The parliament intervened, and punished the delinquents; by which the two parties regained the consideration, which they had lost by the Duke of Orleans’s measures. This rupture gave rise to a new discussion, whether the parliament could intermeddle with this affair, or had any right to banish, or inflict punishments on priests, who, in refusing to administer the sacraments, only conformed to the injunctions of their bishops.

The Jansenists said that the civil magistrate has a power legally superior even to that of the church, the order of a state depending on such subordination; and they farther added, that the administration of the Sacraments is the capital branch of the polity exercised by the civil magistrate.

The answer of the Molinists was, that in spirituals they acknowledged no other superiority than that of the Pope and his bishops; that civil affairs were the parliament’s province, and all it ought to concern itself in; but that the kingdom of heaven had been committed to pastors, and not lawyers.

The subjects, in the mean time, died without the sacraments; the priests indeed were punished, yet the evil remained, and this affair gave the King much uneasiness: the Bourbons indeed have always laid to heart religious disturbances: the court gave itself more concern about these confessional certificates, than ever it had shewn in the most important political transactions. It often became necessary to put a violence on priests, and make use of soldiers to compel them to administer. Never, from the birth of Christ, had such a thing been seen, as having recourse to the bayonet for the administration of the most sacred mystery. It was indeed a horrid scandal; but to see subjects, at the point of death, begging for the communion, and refused, was something still more shocking.

The King, one day, said to me, “These people give me a great deal of uneasiness; if they go on, I shall be obliged to turn all the priests out of their livings, and have their functions performed by Capuchin-friars, who are intirely as I would have them, &c.”[4]

The court’s attention now came to be taken up with an affair of still greater importance than the constitution itself; the election of a King of the Romans. The house of Austria, fond of its greatness, is always providing for the future security of it. As Charles VI. had engaged the Sovereigns of Europe to make themselves the instruments of his ambition, even after his decease; Maria Theresa, in her life-time, took measures for fixing the Imperial throne in her family.