sequence
of his victories; by which, likewise, he acquired the title of Louis le
Grand. But how were those victories obtained? Not by any personal merit
of Louis. It was Colbert who improved his finances, and enabled him to
pay his army. It was Louvois that provided all the necessaries of war.
It was a Conde, a Turenne, a Luxemburg, a Vendome, who fought his
battles; and his first conquests, for which he was deified by the pen
of adulation, were obtained almost without bloodshed, over weak,
dispirited, divided, and defenceless nations. It was Colbert that
improved the marine, instituted manufactures, encouraged commerce,
undertook works of public utility, and patronized the arts and
sciences. But Louis (you will say) had the merit of choosing and
supporting those ministers, and those generals. I answer, no. He found
Colbert and Louvois already chosen: he found Conde and Turenne in the
very zenith of military reputation. Luxemburg was Conde's pupil; and
Vendome, a prince of the blood, who at first obtained the command of
armies in consequence of his high birth, and happened to turn out a man
of genius. The same Louis had the sagacity to revoke the edict of
Nantz; to entrust his armies to a Tallard, a Villeroy, and a Marsin. He
had the humanity to ravage the country, burn the towns, and massacre
the people of the Palatinate. He had the patriotism to impoverish and
depopulate his own kingdom, in order to prosecute schemes of the most
lawless ambition. He had the Consolation to beg a peace from those he
had provoked to war by the most outrageous insolence; and he had the
glory to espouse Mrs. Maintenon in her old age, the widow of the
buffoon Scarron. Without all doubt, it was from irony he acquired the
title le Grand.

Having received a favourable answer from Mr. B--, the English consul at
Nice, and recommended the care of my heavy baggage to Mr. Ray, who
undertook to send it by sea from Cette to Villefranche, I hired a coach
and mules for seven loui'dores, and set out from Montpellier on the
13th of November, the weather being agreeable, though the air was cold
and frosty. In other respects there were no signs of winter: the olives
were now ripe, and appeared on each side of the road as black as sloes;
and the corn was already half a foot high. On the second day of our
journey, we passed the Rhone on a bridge of boats at Buccaire, and lay
on the other side at Tarrascone. Next day we put up at a wretched place
called Orgo