the attorney-general, D'Aguesseau, beloved and esteemed of all, learned,
eloquent, virtuous, but too exclusively a man of Parliament for the
functions which had been confided to him. "He would have made a sublime
premier president," said St. Simon, who did not like him. The magistrate
was attending mass at St. Andre-des-Arts; he was not ignorant of the
chancellor's death, when a valet came in great haste to inform him that
the Regent wanted him at the Palais-Royal. D'Aguesseau piously heard out
the remainder of the mass before obeying the prince's orders. The casket
containing the seals was already upon the table. The Duke of Orleans
took the attorney-general by the arm and, going out with him into the
gallery thronged with courtiers, said, "Gentlemen, here is your new and
most worthy chancellor!" and he took him away with him to the Tuileries,
to pay his respects to the little king.

On returning home, still all in a whirl, D'Aguesseau went up to the room
of his brother, "M. de Valjouan, a sort of Epicurean (_voluptueux_)
philosopher, with plenty of wit and learning, but altogether one of the
oddest creatures." He found him in his dressing-gown, smoking in front
of the fire. "Brother," said he, as he entered, "I have come to tell you
that I am chancellor." "Chancellor!" said the other, turning round; "and
what have you done with the other one?" "He died suddenly to-night."
"O, very well, brother, I am very glad; I would rather it were you than
I;" and he resumed his pipe. Madame D'Aguesseau was better pleased. Her
husband has eulogized her handsomely. "A wife like mine," he said, "is a
good man's highest reward."

The new system of government, as yet untried, and confided to men for
the most part little accustomed to affairs, had to put up with the most
formidable difficulties, and to struggle against the most painful
position. The treasury was empty, and the country exhausted; the army