One afternoon, as we were about to take our places at the regency council, the Marechal de Villars drew me aside and asked me if I knew that Marly was going to be destroyed.  I replied, “No;” indeed, I had not heard speak of it; and I added that I could not believe it.  “You do not approve of it?” said the Marechal.  I assured him I was far from doing so.  He repeated that the destruction was resolved on, that he knew it beyond all doubt, and that if I wished to hinder it, I had not a moment to lose.  I replied that when we took our places I would speak to M. le Duc d’Orleans.  “Immediately,” quickly replied the Marechal; “speak to him this instant, for the order is perhaps already given.”

As all the council were already seated I went behind to M. le Duc d’Orleans, and whispered in his ear what I had just learnt without naming from whom, and begged him, if my information was right, to suspend execution of his project until I had spoken to him, adding that I would join him at the Palais Royal after the council.  He stammered a little, as if sorry at being discovered, but nevertheless agreed to wait for me:  I said so in leaving to the Marechal de Villars, and went to the Palais Royal, where M. le Duc d’Orleans admitted the truth of the news I had heard.  I said I would not ask who had given such a pernicious counsel.  He tried to show it was good by pointing to the saving in keeping up that would be obtained; to the gain that would accrue from the sale of so many water-conduits and materials; to the unpleasant situation of a place to which the King would not be able to go for several years; and to the expense the King was put to in keeping up so many other beautiful houses, not one of which admitted of pulling down.

I replied to him, that these were the reasons of the guardian of a private gentleman that had been presented to him, the conduct of whom could in no way resemble that of the guardian of a King of France; that the expenses incurred in keeping up Marly were necessary, and that, compared with the total of those of the King, they were but as drops in the ocean.  I begged him to get rid of the idea that the sale of the materials would yield any profit,—­all the receipts would go in gifts and pillage, I said; and also that it was not these petty objects he ought to regard, but that he should consider how many millions had been buried in this ancient sewer, to transform it into a fairy palace, unique as to form in all Europe—­unique by the beauty of its fountains, unique also by the reputation that the deceased King had given to it; and that it was an object of curiosity to strangers of every rank who came to France; that its destruction would resound throughout Europe with censure; that these mean reasons of petty economy would not prevent all France from being indignant at seeing so distinguished an ornament swept away; that although neither he nor I might be very delicate upon what had been the taste and the favourite work of the late King, the Regent