version which is now presented in full, giving us not only many
vivid pictures of the author's time, but of the author himself. "I do
not pride myself upon my freedom from prejudice--impartiality," he
confesses--"it would be useless to attempt it. But I have tried at all
times to tell the truth."

VOLUME 1.

CHAPTER I

I was born on the night of the 15th of January, 1675, of Claude Duc de
Saint-Simon, Peer of France, and of his second wife Charlotte de
l'Aubepine. I was the only child of that marriage. By his first wife,
Diana de Budos, my father had had only a daughter. He married her to the
Duc de Brissac, Peer of France, only brother of the Duchesse de Villeroy.
She died in 1684, without children,--having been long before separated
from a husband who was unworthy of her--leaving me heir of all her
property.

I bore the name of the Vidame de Chartres; and was educated with great
care and attention. My mother, who was remarkable for virtue,
perseverance, and sense, busied herself continually in forming my mind
and body. She feared for me the usual fate of young men, who believe
their fortunes made, and who find themselves their own masters early in
life. It was not likely that my father, born in 1606, would live long
enough to ward off from me this danger; and my mother repeatedly
impressed on, me how necessary it was for a young man, the son of the
favourite of a King long dead,--with no new friends at Court,--to acquire
some personal value of his own. She succeeded in stimulating my courage;
and in exciting in me the desire to make the acquisitions she laid stress
on; but my aptitude for study and the sciences did not come up to my
desire to succeed in them. However, I had an innate inclination for
reading, especially works of history; and thus was inspired with ambition
to emulate the examples presented to my imagination,--to do something and
become somebody, which partly made amends for my coldness for letters.
In fact, I have always thought that if I had been allowed to read history
more constantly, instead of losing my time in studies for which I had no
aptness, I might have made some figure in the world.

What I read of my own accord, of history, and, above all, of the personal
memoirs of the times since Francis I., bred in me the desire to write
down what I might myself see. The hope of advancement, and of becoming
familiar with the affairs of my time, stirred me. The annoyances I might
thus b