About this time, France seemed threatened with a cloud of intestine troubles. Louis the _well-beloved_ had outlived the flattery of even French subjects. Verses,[188] recommending the assassination of him, were pasted up on the Louvre and the Pont-Neuf. Yet, though marked for destruction by his priests, it was with great difficulty that Madame de Pompadour, his mistress, could divert the melancholy cast of his mind from sinking into a habit of devotion. She perpetually varied his pleasures, and carried him from one palace and hunting seat to another,--journeys which cost immense sums, and made the people join in the clamour which the Clergy had conjured up. Gunpowder and some treasonable papers were found in the cradle of the Duke of Burgundy. The Dauphin, a dull, bigoted Prince, was zealously attached to his mother, and had hazarded brutalities to the mistress, which the King bore with great indulgence. It did not break out into factions, as the domestic quarrels of the Royal Family had done for two generations here in England, but appeared in little marks and distinctions, such as different manners of wearing the Cordon, &c. among the creatures of either Court. In the midst of these uneasinesses, a new flame broke out. The Archbishop of Paris was a favourite, having made his court even at the expense of his brethren the clergy. The hospitals had always been managed with so much integrity as to become the most creditable fund for charity; the Parliament directed them. The Archbishop endeavoured to arrogate the sole command of them to himself: the King supported his pretensions. The Parliament having in vain remonstrated, concurred to throw up their employments; and though they submitted to resume their functions, it was not without having inspired the Court with a temper of moderation, which is as seldom learnt by despotic Kings, as such firmness is seldom practised by Parliaments renowned for far greater liberties.