For a long time nothing was done; France saying that a treaty of renunciation and an express confirmatory declaration of the King, registered in the Parliament, were sufficient; the English replying by reference to the fate of past treaties.  Peace meanwhile was arranged with the English, and much beyond our hopes remained undisturbed.

In due time matters were so far advanced in spite of obstacles thrown in the way by the allies, that the Duc d’Aumont was sent as ambassador into England; and the Duke of Hamilton was named as ambassador for France.  This last, however, losing his life in a duel with Lord Mohun, the Duke of Shrewsbury was appointed in his stead.

At the commencement of the new year [1713] the Duke and Duchess of Shrewsbury arrived in Paris.  The Duchess was a great fat masculine creature, more than past the meridian, who had been beautiful and who affected to be so still; bare bosomed; her hair behind her ears; covered with rouge and patches, and full of finicking ways.  All her manners were that of a mad thing, but her play, her taste, her magnificence, even her general familiarity, made her the fashion.  She soon declared the women’s head-dresses ridiculous, as indeed they were.  They were edifices of brass wire, ribbons, hair, and all sorts of tawdry rubbish more than two feet high, making women’s faces seem in the middle of their bodies.  The old ladies wore the same, but made of black gauze.  If they moved ever so lightly the edifice trembled and the inconvenience was extreme.  The King could not endure them, but master as he was of everything was unable to banish them.  They lasted for ten years and more, despite all he could say and do.  What this monarch had been unable to perform, the taste and example of a silly foreigner accomplished with the most surprising rapidity.  From extreme height, the ladies descended to extreme lowness, and these head-dresses, more simple; more convenient, and more becoming, last even now.  Reasonable people wait with impatience for some other mad stranger who will strip our dames of these immense baskets, thoroughly insupportable to themselves and to others.

Shortly after the Duke of Shrewsbury arrived in Paris, the Hotel de Powis in London, occupied by our ambassador the Duc d’Aumont, was burnt to the ground.  A neighbouring house was pulled down to prevent others catching fire.  The plate of M. d’Aumont was saved.  He pretended to have lost everything else.  He pretended also to have received several warnings that his house was to be burnt and himself assassinated, and that the Queen, to whom he had mentioned these warnings, offered to give him a guard.  People judged otherwise in London and Paris, and felt persuaded he himself had been the incendiary in order to draw money from the King and also to conceal some monstrous smuggling operations, by which he gained enormously, and which the English had complained of ever since his arrival.  This is at least what was publicly said in the two courts and cities, and nearly everybody believed it.