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Authors: Marcel Proust
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bud. We have seen the effect of this in Messieurs
de Turenne and de Vendôme. More authority and a more extensive knowledge were necessary
than M. the Duc d’Orléans possessed. Never however was a case simpler, clearer, or
easier to explain, more impossible, more abominable to contradict. On one hand, a
manwho cannot go back more than two generations without getting lost in a night where
nothing of note appears; on the other, the head of an illustrious family known for
a thousand years, father and son of two Marshals of France, never having admitted
any but the greatest alliances. The Le Moine affair itself did not involve interests
so vital for France.
During the same period of time, Delaire married a Rohan and rather oddly took the
name of Comte de Cambacérès. The Marquis d’Albuféra, who was a good friend of mine
as was his mother, filed a number of complaints that, despite the minuscule and, as
we will see later on, well-deserved esteem the King had for him, remained without
effect. So now he is one of those fine Comtes de Cambacérès (not to mention the Vicomte
Vigier, whom we imagine still back in Les Bains where he arose), like the counts de
Montgomery and de Brye, whom ignorant Frenchmen think of as descended from G. de Montgomery,
so famous for his duel under Henri II, and as belonging to the de Briey family, which
included my friend the Comtesse de Briey, who has often figured in these Memoirs and
who jokingly called the new Comtes de Brye, who at least were gentlemen of good stock
although of lower lineage,
les non brils
. 6
Another, greater marriage delayed the arrival of the King of England, one that concerned
more than just this country. Mlle Asquith, who was probably the most intelligent of
anyone, and was like one of those beautiful figures painted in fresco that one sees
in Italy,married Prince Antoine Bibesco, who had been the idol of the people who lived where
he resided. He was a good friend of Morand, envoy from the King to their Catholic
Majesties; he will often be discussed in the course of these Memoirs, as a good friend
of my own. This marriage made a great stir, and was applauded everywhere. A few poorly
educated Englishmen alas believed that Mlle Asquith was not contracting a good enough
marriage. She could indeed lay claim to anything, but they did not know that these
Bibescos are related to the Noailles, the Montesquious, the Chimays, and the Bauffremonts
who are of Capetian stock and could with great reason claim the crown of France, as
I have often said.
Not a single duke, or any titled gentleman, went to that parvulo at Saint-Cloud, aside
from me, who came because Mme de Saint-Simon was lady-in-waiting to Mme the Duchesse
de Bourgogne, and consented under sheer compulsion, and at risk for any refusal, and
out of necessity to obey the King, but with all the suffering and tears we have seen
and the endless entreaties of M. the Duc and Mme the Duchesse d’Orléans; the Ducs
de Villeroy and de La Rochefoucauld, present because they were unable to console themselves
at counting for so little, one might even say for nothing, and wanting to cook up
one last little stew of rumors, who used this as an occasion to pay court to the Regent;
the chancellor too was there, needing advice, of which he got none that day; at times,
Artagnan, Captain of the Guard, would come in, to say that the King was served, or
a little later,with the fruit, bringing dog biscuits for the pointers; finally when he proclaimed
that the music had begun, by which he fervently hoped to win favorable regard, which
yet eluded him.
He was of the house of Montesquiou; one of his sisters had been a lady’s maid to the
Queen, had gotten ahead nicely, and had married the Duc de Gesvres. He had asked his
cousin Robert de Montesquiou-Fezensac to come to this parvulo at Saint-Cloud. Who
replied, however, with the admirable apothegm that he was
de Turenne and de Vendôme. More authority and a more extensive knowledge were necessary
than M. the Duc d’Orléans possessed. Never however was a case simpler, clearer, or
easier to explain, more impossible, more abominable to contradict. On one hand, a
manwho cannot go back more than two generations without getting lost in a night where
nothing of note appears; on the other, the head of an illustrious family known for
a thousand years, father and son of two Marshals of France, never having admitted
any but the greatest alliances. The Le Moine affair itself did not involve interests
so vital for France.
During the same period of time, Delaire married a Rohan and rather oddly took the
name of Comte de Cambacérès. The Marquis d’Albuféra, who was a good friend of mine
as was his mother, filed a number of complaints that, despite the minuscule and, as
we will see later on, well-deserved esteem the King had for him, remained without
effect. So now he is one of those fine Comtes de Cambacérès (not to mention the Vicomte
Vigier, whom we imagine still back in Les Bains where he arose), like the counts de
Montgomery and de Brye, whom ignorant Frenchmen think of as descended from G. de Montgomery,
so famous for his duel under Henri II, and as belonging to the de Briey family, which
included my friend the Comtesse de Briey, who has often figured in these Memoirs and
who jokingly called the new Comtes de Brye, who at least were gentlemen of good stock
although of lower lineage,
les non brils
. 6
Another, greater marriage delayed the arrival of the King of England, one that concerned
more than just this country. Mlle Asquith, who was probably the most intelligent of
anyone, and was like one of those beautiful figures painted in fresco that one sees
in Italy,married Prince Antoine Bibesco, who had been the idol of the people who lived where
he resided. He was a good friend of Morand, envoy from the King to their Catholic
Majesties; he will often be discussed in the course of these Memoirs, as a good friend
of my own. This marriage made a great stir, and was applauded everywhere. A few poorly
educated Englishmen alas believed that Mlle Asquith was not contracting a good enough
marriage. She could indeed lay claim to anything, but they did not know that these
Bibescos are related to the Noailles, the Montesquious, the Chimays, and the Bauffremonts
who are of Capetian stock and could with great reason claim the crown of France, as
I have often said.
Not a single duke, or any titled gentleman, went to that parvulo at Saint-Cloud, aside
from me, who came because Mme de Saint-Simon was lady-in-waiting to Mme the Duchesse
de Bourgogne, and consented under sheer compulsion, and at risk for any refusal, and
out of necessity to obey the King, but with all the suffering and tears we have seen
and the endless entreaties of M. the Duc and Mme the Duchesse d’Orléans; the Ducs
de Villeroy and de La Rochefoucauld, present because they were unable to console themselves
at counting for so little, one might even say for nothing, and wanting to cook up
one last little stew of rumors, who used this as an occasion to pay court to the Regent;
the chancellor too was there, needing advice, of which he got none that day; at times,
Artagnan, Captain of the Guard, would come in, to say that the King was served, or
a little later,with the fruit, bringing dog biscuits for the pointers; finally when he proclaimed
that the music had begun, by which he fervently hoped to win favorable regard, which
yet eluded him.
He was of the house of Montesquiou; one of his sisters had been a lady’s maid to the
Queen, had gotten ahead nicely, and had married the Duc de Gesvres. He had asked his
cousin Robert de Montesquiou-Fezensac to come to this parvulo at Saint-Cloud. Who
replied, however, with the admirable apothegm that he was
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