Millionaire - Janet Gleeson [68]
Cornered between public distress and inexorably ebbing reserves, Law could see no alternative but to take even more despotic action. On February 27 he issued an edict that outlawed the possession of more than 500 livres’ worth of silver or gold and stipulated that in future all payments of more than 100 livres were to be made in banknotes. All surplus gold was to be brought to the bank and exchanged for paper. Transgressors could expect to be severely punished, and informers were encouraged with the promise of generous rewards. The slightest suspicion that gold was being concealed illegally would be enough for any house, whether palace or hovel, to be searched. The dreaded methods of the Visa, which Law had once scorned, now returned at his instigation. Servants were tempted to turn on their employers, children on their parents. Seething distrust made the crowds who took their silver and gold to the bank feel relieved of a burden when they returned with paper.
Predictably, however, not all complied. The most notable transgressor was the horse-loving Duc de Bourbon, who, getting wind of the new regulation, exchanged a reported 25 million livres for coins just before it came into effect. He was summoned by the regent to explain why he had “destroyed in a moment what we have struggled to establish over several days.” Both Bourbon and Conti, who had cashed in earlier, were ordered to comply with the recent measures immediately, and return the gold, or risk having their property searched by the authorities and the gold confiscated. When both refused, investigators, who had doubtless been bribed, made cursory searches of their châteaux and, predictably, discovered nothing.
Law was condemned mercilessly for his actions. Ambassador Stair commented sarcastically that it was impossible now to doubt his sincerity in converting to Catholicism, since he had established the Inquisition after having revealed his faith in transubstantiation by turning so much gold to paper. Public opprobrium extended also to his supporters. Bourbon was heckled in the street, and his manservant was pelted with stones when he attempted to remonstrate. Even the usually aloof Saint-Simon was aghast: “Never was sovereign power soviolently attempted; never did it meddle with any matter so sensitively felt or so vitally connected with the temporal well-being of the community.”
At the Palais Royal the unfolding turmoil was monitored anxiously by the regent. Always inclined to take the route of least resistance, Orléans feared that widespread hatred of Law would affect his own standing. When he sensed that his mentor’s faith was wavering, Law’s self-confidence slipped. Humiliating tales circulated by his opponents added to his distress. According to Stair, when Law arrived at the Palais Royal for an audience, the regent admitted him while relieving himself “upon his close stool.” Orléans was, said Stair, “in such a passion, that he run to Law with his breeches about his heels” and threatened him with the Bastille if matters did not quickly improve. Even if Stair fabricated this crude incident, it seems certain that the worry of losing Orléans’s favor, upon which Law’s political survival and his family’s future depended, had a profoundly adverse effect on Law. Under the barrage of reproach his nerve failed, and the combined reports of servants, enemies, and friends suggest that he had a nervous breakdown. His servants reported that he suffered from insomnia and anxiety at-tacks, that he was prone to sudden angry outbursts, and that his mood, even with his close family,