, rare in
princes, to preserve his friends to the hour of his death. He readily
forgave offences and pardoned injuries. But the mind endowed with so
many amiable qualities was destitute of that which can alone develop or
turn them to good account--he had no force of character. Without the
energy which prompts crime, he was equally without that which leads to
virtue. After having lost his first preceptor, his ill fortune placed
him in the hands of Dubois, the most corrupt of men. This Dubois, the
son of an apothecary of Brives-la-Gaillarde, founded his hopes of
fortune on the entire demoralisation of the prince committed to his
care. Inspired by the genius of vice, he divined and encouraged the
vices of others, and above all of his master. He taught him to believe
that virtue is but a mask worn by hypocrisy, a chimera on which no one
can rely in the business of life; that religion is a political
invention, of use only to the lower people; that all men are cheats and
deceivers, and pretended rectitude a mere cover for intended villany.
Madame, the mother of the Regent, early discovered the character of this
detestable man. 'My son,' said she, 'I desire nothing but the good of
the state and your glory: I ask but one thing for your safety, and I
demand your word of honour for it--it is never to employ that scoundrel
the Abbe Dubois--the greatest miscreant on the earth: who would at any
time sacrifice the state and you to the slightest interest of his own.'
The Duke of Orleans gave his word accordingly, but he was not long of
breaking it. Shortly after, he made Dubois a councillor of state. The
debaucheries into which that man impelled him soon became all
indispensable distraction for that soft and enervated mind, to which the
_ennui_ of a court was insupportable. He loved its scandal and
rumours--even the report of incest was not displeasing to him. Every
evening, he assembled his _roues_, his mistresses, some _danseuses_ from
the Opera, often his daughter the Duchess de Berri,[3] and some persons
of obscure birth, but brilliant for their talent or renowned for their
vices. At these suppers the choicest viands, the finest wines,
exhilarated the guests, all the disorders and scandal of court and the
city were passed in review. They drank, they became intoxicated; the
conversation became licentious; impieties of every sort issued from
every mouth. At last, fatigued with satiety, the party was broken up:
those who could walk re