was wild and uncertain: all that followed was mad and desperate.
But this favourable aspect had an extreme short duration. Two
events soon happened, one of which cast a damp on all we were doing,
and the other rendered vain and fruitless all we had done. The
first was the arrival of the Duke of Ormond in France, the other was
the death of the King.

We had sounded the duke's name high. His reputation and the opinion
of his power were great. The French began to believe that he was
able to form and to head a party; that the troops would join him;
that the nation would follow the signal whenever he drew his sword;
and the voice of the people, the echo of which was continually in
their ears, confirmed them in this belief. But when, in the midst
of all these bright ideas, they saw him arrive, almost literally
alone, when, to excuse his coming, I was obliged to tell them that
he could not stay, they sank at once from their hopes, and that
which generally happens happened in this case: because they had had
too good an opinion of the cause, they began to form too bad a one.
Before this time, if they had no friendship for the Tories, they had
at least some consideration and esteem. After this, I saw nothing
but compassion in the best of them, and contempt in the others.

When I arrived at Paris, the King was already gone to Marly, where
the indisposition which he had begun to feel at Versailles increased
upon him. He was the best friend the Chevalier had: and when I
engaged in this business, my principal dependence was on his
personal character. This failed me to a great degree; he was not in
a condition to exert the same vigour as formerly. The Ministers who
saw so great an event as his death to be probably at hand, a certain
minority, an uncertain regency, perhaps confusion, at best a new