kingdom, and to degrade it in the eyes of other nations.
“The noble firmness of sovereign courts is odious to people of this class; thus you may imagine the detestation in which they regard the candid and loyal conduct of the duke. I n the hopes of procuring the dismissal of my brother, they have chosen for his successor wretch loaded with crimes, a coward, an
extortioner, a murderer–the duc d’Aiguillon. As for you gentlemen, who now constitute our parliament, your places will soon be filled by a magistracy drawn from the dregs of society; a troop of slaves, deaf and blind, except
as he who pays them best will have them exercise those powers.
“This is no time for indolent repose; we must at once courageously and unanimously defeat the guilty schemes of our enemies. So long as my brother retains his present post he will support you with his best interest; but, should he be dismissed, your business will soon be finished.
“I beg my best remembrances, first, to your excellent lady, and after her, to madame B. and madame L., not forgetting the marquise de Chalret, whose wit is truly Attic; nor the marquise de P–s, who conceals beneath the graceful exterior of a Languedocian the soul of one of Corneille’s Roman matrons. For yourself rely upon my warmest friendship and endeavours to serve you. My brother is most anxious to know you, after the flattering manner in which I have mentioned you to him. When will you gratify us both by visiting Paris?
“Ever yours,”
Nothing could have arrived more for our purpose than
this letter. I was still engaged in its perusal when the king was announced; I wished to hurry it back into the hands of M. de Maupeou; but he, more crafty than I, requested I would keep it.
“It is fitting,” said he, “that it should be seen by the right person.”
Louis XV, astonished at the strange scene, inquired what it meant.
“A most shameful piece of scandal, sire,” replied I.
“An infamous epistle,” added the chancellor, “which one of my friends managed to abstract from the post-office, and forwarded to me: I brought it to madame la comtesse, that she might admire the determined malice of our enemies.”
“You excite my curiosity,” cried Louis XV. “Madame, have the kindness to allow me to see this paper.”
“Indeed, sire,” exclaimed I, “I know not whether I ought to obey your majesty, so entirely has the writer of the letter forgotten the respect duc to your sacred person.”
“Oh,” said the king, “I do not fear that; I am but too well used to the offence to feel astonishment at its occurrence.”
I placed the paper in the hand of Louis XV, whose eye easily recognised the handwriting of madame de Grammont. “Ah, ah!” cried he, “is it so? let us see what this restless lady has to say of us all.” I watched the countenance of the king as he read, and saw the frown that covered it grow darker and darker; nevertheless he continued to read on without comment till he had reached the end; then sitting down and looking full at the chancellor, he exclaimed,
“Well, M. de Maupeou, and what do you think of this business?”
“I am overwhelmed with consternation, sire,” replied he, “when I think that one of your majesty’s ministers should be able to conspire thus openly against you.”
“Stay,” cried Louis hastily, “that fact is by no means proved. The duchesse de Grammont is a mad woman, who involves the safety of her brother; if I only believed him capable of such treachery, he should sleep this night in the Bastille, and to-morrow the necessary proceedings should be commenced against him: as for his sister, I will take care of her within four good walls, and avenge myself for her past misconduct, by putting it out of her power to injure me further.”
“Sire,” said I, in my turn, “remember she is a woman; I beseech you to pardon her, and let the weight of your just indignation fall upon her brother.”
“Chancellor,” cried the king, “this business must not be lightly passed over.”
“Nor without due consideration,” replied M. de Maupeou, “your majesty may look upon this letter as the basis of a secret plot: as for the duchess, I am of my cousin’s opinion; despise her audacious attempts, but spare not her brother; he alone is the guilty as well as dangerous person.”
The king made no answer, but rose, and crushing the letter in his hand, threw it from him.
“Would,” exclaimed he at last, “that the fiends had those who take such delight in disgusting me with my very existence. Heavens! how justly may I say I despise all men; nor have I a much better opinion of your sex, madame la comtesse, I must warn you.”
“Much obliged, sire,” cried I; ” really I was not prepared for such gallantry. It is rather hard that you should quarrel with me because this disagreeable duchess behaves ill! Upon my word it is very unpleasant!”
“Come, come,” said Louis XV, kissing my cheek, “don’t you be a naughty child; if I had not you, where should I turn for consolation amidst the torments by which I am surrounded? Shall I tell you? In the midst of all these perplexing affairs, there are moments in which I fear I may not be promoting the happiness of my people.”
“Your majesty is greatly mistaken,” replied the chancellor; “the nation in general must esteem themselves most happy under your reign; but it will always happen that ill-disposed persons seek to pervert the public opinion, and to lead men’s minds astray. The duchess, when travelling, was the faithful and active agent of her brother. The duke, to secure his stay in the ministry, will eagerly avail himself of every adventitious aid; within your kingdom he seeks the support of the parliaments and philosophers; without, he claims the succour of Germany and Spain. Your majesty is certainly master of your own will, and it would ill become me to point out the path you should tread; but my duty compels me to say, that the duc de Choiseul is the greatest enemy of the royal house: of this he gave me a convincing proof in the case of your august son; and now, if he fancied he should find it more advantageous to have the dauphin for his master–“
“Chancellor of France,” cried Louis, much agitated, “do you know what you are asserting?”
“The truth, sire,” I exclaimed. “The public voice accuses the duc de Choiseul of the death of your son; they declare–“
“How! you, too, madam!” exclaimed the king looking at me fixedly.
“And why not, sire? I am merely repeating what is in every one’s mouth.”
“I have heard this horrible charge before,” added the king; “the Jesuits informed me of it, but I could not give credit to such a monstrosity.”
“So much the worse,” replied I; “in the world in which we live we should always be on our guard.”
“Sire,” added the chancellor, with the most diabolical address, “I am persuaded that M. de Choiseul is the most honourable man in the world, and that he would shudder at the bare idea of any attempt upon the life of your majesty; but his relations, friends, and creatures believe, that, supported by the dauphiness, he would continue in office under your successor. Who can answer for their honour? Who can assure you, that some one among them may not do that for the duke which he would never venture to attempt himself?
“This is the personal danger your majesty runs so long as M. de Choiseul continues in office; were he dismissed, the world would soon abandon the disgraced minister, and the dauphiness be amongst the first to forget him.”
The king was pale with agitation, and for some minutes continued traversing the apartment with hasty strides; then he suddenly stopped.
“You are then convinced, M. de Maupeou,” cried he, “that the duke is leagued with the parliaments to weaken my authority?”
“There are palpable proofs to that effect,” replied the chancellor; “your majesty may recollect the skilful manner in which, on the 3d of last September, he avoided attending you to parliament; most assuredly, had he not been the friend of rebels, he would not have shrunk from evincing by his presence how fully he shared your just indignation.”
“That is but too true,” cried Louis XV; “and I felt much annoyed at the time, that he preferred going to amuse himself at the house of M. de Laborde, when his duty summoned him to my side.”
“Your majesty cannot fail to perceive how everything condemns him; his personal conduct, equally with that of his sister, proves how little he regards his royal master’s interest; and should your clemency resolve upon sparing him now, you may find your mercy produce fatal effects to yourself.”
“His dismissal,” resumed the king, “would disorganize all my political measures. Who could I put in his place? I know no one capable of filling it.”
“Your majesty’s wisdom must decide the point,” replied the chancellor. “My duty is to lay before you the true state of things; this I have done, and I know myself well enough not to intrude my counsel further. Nevertheless, I cannot help remarking, that in your majesty’s court there are many as capable as M. de Choiseul of directing affairs–M. d’Aiguillon, for example.”
“Ah!” answered Louis XV; “this is not the moment, when M. d’Aiguillon is smarting from his severe contest with the long robes, to elevate him over the head of my hitherto-esteemed minister.”
M. de Maupeou and myself perceived that we should best serve my friend’s cause by refraining from pressing the matter further, and we therefore changed the conversation. Nevertheless, as what had already passed had taken its full effect upon the king’s mind, he suggested an idea which I should never have dreamed of recommending; and that was to consult the abbe de la Ville on the subject.
The abbe de la Ville, head clerk of foreign affairs, was a man who, at the advanced period of fourscore, preserved all the fire and vivacity of youth; he was acquainted with ministerial affairs even better than M. de Choiseul himself. Having formerly belonged to the Jesuits, to whom he was entirely devoted, he had appeared to accelerate the period of their destruction; never had he been able to pardon his patron the frightful part he had compelled him to enact in the business. Years had not weakened his ancient rancour, and it might be said, that he had clung to life with more than natural pertinacity, as unwilling to lay it down till he had avenged himself on de Choiseul. Louis XV wrote to him, desiring he would avail himself of the first pretext that occurred to request an audience. This note was forwarded by a footman, the good abbe easily divined that this mystery concealed some great design; he therefore hastened to solicit an audience as desired. When introduced into the cabinet of the king, his majesty inquired at once,
“Monsieur l’ abbe, can I depend upon your discretion?”
“Sire,” replied the abbe, with a blunt frankness, “I am sorry your majesty can doubt it.”
“Be satisfied, sir,” replied the king, “I had no intention to offend you; but I wish to consult you upon a point, the importance of which you will fully appreciate; answer me without disguise. Do you believe that the services of the duc de Choiseul are useful to my kingdom, and that my interests would suffer were I to dismiss him?”
“Sire,” replied M. de la Ville, without hesitation, “I protest to you, as a man of honour, that the presence of the duc de Choiseul is by no means essential to the ministry, and that your majesty’s interests would sustain not the slightest injury by his absence.”
After this the abbe de la Ville entered into particulars unnecessary to repeat here; it is sufficient to say, that all he advanced materially aided our wishes. He afterwards reaped the reward of his friendly services, for when the duc d’Aiguillon had displaced the duc de Choiseul, he bestowed on M. de la Ville the title of
did not, however, long enjoy his honours, but ended his career in 1774.
This conversation had been repeated to me; and, on my side, I left no means untried of preventing Louis XV from placing further confidence in his minister; but, feeble and timid, he knew not on what to determine, contenting himself with treating the duke coolly; he sought, by continual rebuffs and denials to his slightest request, to compel him to demand that dismissal he had not the courage to give.
Whilst these things were in agitation, madame de Mirepoix, who had been for some days absent from Versailles, came to call upon me. This lady possessed a considerable share of wit; and, although on the most intimate terms with me, had not altogether broken off with the des Choiseuls, to whom she was further bound on account of the prince de Beauvau, her brother. It therefore excited in me no surprise, when I heard that the des Choiseuls had called on her to ascertain, whether it would not be possible, through her mediation, to come to some terms with me.
“And you must not be angry with me,” continued she, “for undertaking the
“It is my opinion,” replied I, “that all propositions coming from these people should be rejected; they have compelled me to raise between them and myself an immense wall of hatred, not less difficult to surmount than the grand wall of China.”
“Yet,” replied the marechale, smiling, “they are disposed to pay any price for so doing.”
“I have friends,” said I, “from whom I can never separate myself.”
“They are willing that your friends shall be theirs likewise,” cried she, “for they see that M. de Maupeou, the duc de la Vrilliere, and the abbe Terray, are provided for, and that the duc d’Aiguillon alone remains to be suitably established; M. de Choiseul would be happy to aid him in obtaining the post of minister of naval affairs.”
“Well, and the duchesse de Grammont,” inquired I, “would she visit me?”
“Oh, as to that, I know nothing about it, and can venture no opinion; my commission does not extend so far.”
“I understand you,” said I; “she seeks for peace only as it would enable her the better to carry on her hostilities against me. I am sorry, madame la marechale, that I cannot accept your terms for a reconciliation.”
“Remember, I pray of you, that I have been an ambassadress, and nothing more,” said madame de Mirepoix; “recollect I have spoken to you in the words of others, not my own. I must beg of you to be secret; if you divulge the particulars of this morning’s conversation, it is I who will suffer by it: your friends will be displeased with me for my interference; and I have no inclination to provoke the anger of a party so powerful as yours.”
I promised the marechale to observe an inviolable secrecy; and, so well have I kept my promise, that you are the first person to whom I ever breathed one syllable of the affair. I must own, that it struck me as strange, that the duc de Choiseul should abandon his cousin, and consent to take his seat beside the duc d’Aiguillon, whom he detested: perhaps he only sought to deceive us all by gaining time, till the death of the king. But what avails speculation upon the words and actions of a courtier, whose heart is an abyss too deep for gleam of light to penetrate?
CHAPTER XXVI
Baron d’Oigny, general post-master–The king and the countess read the opened letters–The disgrace of de Choiseul resolved upon–
The interference of madame de Mirepoix, originating, as it did, in the duc de Choiseul, let me at once into the secret of his fears and the extent of my own power. The knowledge of the weakness of my adversary redoubled my energy; and from this moment, I allowed no day to pass without forwarding the great work, till I succeeded in effecting the duke’s ruin and securing my own triumph. The pamphleteers in the pay of my enemies, and those who merely copied these hirelings, assert that one evening after supper, when Louis was intoxicated with wine and my seductions, I prevailed upon him to sign a
minister, which he immediately revoked when the break of day had restored to him his senses. This was a malicious falsehood. You shall hear the exact manner in which the
were signed.
On the evening of the 23d of December, his majesty having engaged to sup with me, I had invited M. de Maupeou, the duc de la Vrilliere, and the prince de Soubise. It appears, that the king, previously to coming, had gone to visit the dauphiness; he had not mentioned whither he was going, so that his attendants believed him to be in my apartments, and directed M. d’Oigny, post-master general, to seek him there. The baron brought with him a packet of opened letters; when he saw me alone he wished to retire, for the servants, believing him to be one of the expected guests, had ushered him in. However, I would not permit him to go until the king’s arrival; and, half sportively, half seriously, I took from him his letters, protesting I would detain them as hostages for his obedience to my desires. At this moment Louis XV entered the room; and M. d’Oigny, having briefly stated his business, bowed and departed. The baron was a very excellent man, possessing an extensive and intelligent mind; he wrote very pleasing poetry, and had not his attention been occupied by the post he filled, he might have made a conspicuous figure in literature.
When we were left to ourselves, I said to the king,
“Now, then, for this interesting and amusing budget; for such, I doubt not, it will prove.”
“Not so fast, madam, if you please,” replied Louis XV; “perhaps these papers may contain state secrets unfit for your eye.”
“Great secrets they must be,” said I, laughing, “confided thus to the carelessness of the post.” So saying, I broke the seal of the envelope so hastily, that the greater part of the letters and notes were scattered over the carpet.
“Well done,” cried the king.
“I entreat your majesty’s pardon,” said I, “but I will repair the mischief as far as I can.”
I stooped to collect the fallen papers, and the king had the gallantry to assist me: we soon piled the various letters upon a tray, and began eagerly to glance over their contents. My good fortune made me select from the mass those epistles addressed to the members of the country parliaments; they were filled with invectives against me, insulting mention of the king, and praises of the duc de Choiseul. I took especial care to read them in a loud and distinct voice.
“This really is not to be endured,” cried Louis XV; “that the mistaken zeal of these long-robed gentlemen should make them thus compliment my minister at my expense.”
“So much the worse for you, sire,” replied I, “considering that you continue to prefer your minister to every other consideration.”
As I continued searching through the letters, I found and read the following phrase:–“Spite of the reports in circulation, I do not believe it possible that M. de Choiseul will be dismissed; he is too necessary to the king, who, without him would be as incapable as a child of managing his affairs: his majesty must preserve our friend in office in spite of himself.”
When I had finished, the king exclaimed, in an angry tone, “We shall see how far the prophecy of these sapient gentlemen is correct, and whether their ‘friend’ is so important to me that I dare not dismiss him. Upon my word, my minister has placed himself so advantageously before his master, as to exclude him entirely from the eyes of his subjects.”
Whilst these words were speaking, M. de Maupeou and M. de la Vrilliere were announced; the king, still warm, let fall some words expressive of his displeasure at what had happened. The gauntlet was thrown; and so well did we work upon the irritated mind of Louis XV, that it was determined M. de Choiseul should be dismissed the following day, December 24, 1770. Chanteloup was chosen for the place of his retreat, and M. de la Vrilliere, by the dictation of the king, wrote the following letter to the duke:–
“Cousin,-, The dissatisfaction caused me by your conduct compels me to request you will confine yourself to your estate at Chanteloup, whither you will remove in four and twenty hours from the date hereof. I should have chosen a more remote spot for your place of exile, were it not for the great esteem I entertain for the duchesse de Choiseul, in whose delicate health I feel much interest. Have a care that you do not, by your own conduct, oblige me to adopt harsher
measures; and hereupon I pray God to have you in his keeping.”
(Signed) “Louis,
(and lower down) “PHILIPPEAUX”
When this letter was completed, I said to the king,
“Surely, sire, you do not mean to forget the duke’s faithful ally, M. de Praslin? It would ill become us to detain him when the head of the family has taken leave of us.”
“You are right,” replied the king, smiling; “besides, an old broom taken from a masthead would be as useful to us as he would.”
Then, turning to M. de la Vrilliere, the king dictated the following laconic notice:–
“COUSIN,–I have no further occasion for your services; I exile you to Praslin, and expect you will repair thither within four and twenty hours after the receipt of this.”
“Short and sweet,” cried I.
“Now let us drop the subject,” said Louis; “let madame de Choiseul repose in peace to-night, and to-morrow morning, at eleven o’clock, go yourself, M. de la Vrilliere, and carry my orders to the duke, and bring back his staff of office.”
“To whom will you give it, sire?” inquired the chancellor.
“I have not yet considered the subject,” replied the king.
At this instant M. de Soubise was announced. “
the king, as M. de Soubise, little suspecting the nature of our conversation, entered the room. I profited by his coming to slip out of the room into my boudoir, from which I despatched the following note to M. d’Aiguillon:
“MY DEAR DUKE,–Victoria! We are conquerors; master and man quit Paris to-morrow. We shall replace them by our friends; and you best know whether you are amongst the number of them.”
When I returned to the drawing-room, the king exclaimed,
“Come, madam., you are waited for; the prince de Soubise has a very curious anecdote to relate, which befell a lady of his acquaintance; I begged of him to defer telling it till you rejoined us.”
“Are you afraid of ghosts?” inquired the marechal of me.
“Not this evening,” replied I; “to-morrow, perhaps, or the next day, I may be.”
This jest amused the king and the duc de la Vrilliere, whilst M. de Maupeou, who seemed to fear lest I should by any indiscretion, reveal our secret, made a signal of impatience; to which I replied, by shrugging up my shoulders. Poor M. de Soubise, although he did not comprehend my joke, laughed at it as heartily as heartily as the rest who saw its application. “Oh! you courtier,” thought I We then entreated of him to commence the recital of his tale, which he did in the following words–
“There is in Lower Brittany a family gifted with a most singular endowment: each member of the family, male or female, is warned exactly one month previous to his or her decease of the precise hour and day in which it will take place. A lady belonging to this peculiar race was visiting me rather more than a month since; we were conversing quietly together, when, all at once, she uttered a loud cry, arose from her seat, endeavored to walk across the room, but fell senseless upon the floor. Much grieved and surprised at this scene, I hastily summoned my servants, who bestowed upon the unfortunate lady the utmost attention, but it was long ere she revived. I then wished to persuade her to take some rest. ‘No,’ cried she, rising and giving me orders for her immediate departure, “I have not sufficient time for rest; scarcely will the short period between me and eternity allow me to set my affairs in order.’ Surprised at this language, I begged of her to explain herself. ‘You are aware,’ said she, ‘of the fatal power possessed by my family; well, at the moment in which I was sitting beside you on this sofa, happening to cast my eyes on the mirror opposite, I saw myself as a corpse wrapped in the habiliments of death, and partly covered with a black and white drapery; beside me was an open coffin. This is sufficient; I have no time to lose: farewell, my friend, we shall meet no more’ Thunderstruck at these words, I suffered the lady to depart without attempting to combat her opinion. This morning I received intelligence from her son that the prophecy had been fulfilled–she was no more.”
When the marechal had finished, I exclaimed,
“You have told us a sad dismal tale; I really fear I shall not be able to close my eyes at all to-night for thinking of it.”
“We must think of some means of keeping up your spirits,” answered Louis XV. ” As for your story, marechal, it does not surprise me; things equally inexplicable are continually taking place. I read in a letter addressed by Philip V, of Spain, to Louis XIV, “that the spirit of Philip II, founder of the Escurial, wanders at certain intervals around that building. Philip V affirms that he himself witnessed the apparition of the spectre of the king.”
At this moment supper was announced. “Come, gentlemen,” said I, “let us seek to banish these gloomy ideas around our festive board.” Upon which the king conducted me to the supper-room, the rest of the company following us. Spite of all my efforts to be gay, and induce others to be so likewise, the conversation still lingered upon this dismal subject.
“Heaven grant,” exclaimed the chancellor, “that I may not soon have to dread a visit from the ghost of the deceased parliament; however, if such were the case, it would not prevent my sleeping.”
“Oh!” cried the king, “these long-robed gentlemen have often more effectually robbed me of sleep than all the spectres in the world could do; yet one night–“
“Well, sire,” said I, seeing that Louis was silent, “and what happened to you that night?”
“Nothing that I can repeat,” answered Louis XV, glancing around with a mournful look.
A dead silence followed, which lasted several minutes; and this evening, which was to usher my day of triumph, passed away in the most inconceivable dullness. What most contributed to render me uneasy was the reflection, that, at the very moment when we had freed ourselves of our enemies, we were ignorant who would fill their vacant places. This was an error, and a great one. My friends would not listen to the nomination of the Comte de Broglie, the Comte de Maillebois, the duc de la Vauguyon, any more than either M. de Soubise or M. de Castries. The abbe Terray, having upon one occasion proposed the marechal duc de Richelieu, he very narrowly escaped having his face scratched by M. d’Aiguillon, who cared very little for his dear uncle; but I have unintentionally wandered from the thread of my narrative; I will therefore resume it at once.
I had hoped that the king would this night have retired to his own apartment, and that I should have been enabled to hold a secret council with M. de Maupeou, and the ducs de la Vrilliere and d’Aiguillon; but no such thing. Imagining, no doubt, that I should be kept awake by my fear of ghosts, his majesty insisted upon remaining with me, and I was compelled to acquiesce. He passed a very agitated night, much more occupied with the des Choiseuls than me; he could think of nothing, speak of nothing, but the sensation which their disgrace would produce; he seemed to dread his family, the nobility, the nation, Europe, and the whole world. I strove to re-assure him, and to inspire him with fresh courage; and, when he quitted me in the morning, I felt convinced that he would not again alter his determination.
As soon as Louis XV had left me, Comte Jean entered. Although concealed behind the curtain, and apparently not on the best terms with me, my brother-in-law nevertheless directed my actions, and gave me most excellent advice. It was not long ere the duc d’Aiguillon arrived; he had seen M. de Maupeou during the night, and learned from him the exile of the late minister, but beyond that fact he knew nothing. He inquired of me, with much uneasiness, whether anything had been decided in his behalf. I replied, that the king was as yet undecided in his choice of ministers, but that, if the duc d’Aiguillon came into office, he would, in all probability, be nominated to the administration of foreign affairs: the direction of the war-office had been my noble friend’s ardent desire.
Whilst we were thus conversing together on the 24th of December, 1770, eleven o’clock struck; and we could, from the windows, perceive M. de la Vrilliere taking his way towards that part of the building occupied by M. de Choiseul when at the castle. This latter was in conversation with M. Conzie, bishop of Arras, when the arrival of the duc de la Vrilliere, bearing the king’s commands, was signified to him. The prelate, not doubting but the mission related to affairs of importance, took his leave; de la Vrilliere then presented the
This order did not proceed from me, but was the work of the duc de la Vrilliere, who sought, by this paltry action, to avenge himself upon M. de Choiseul for the reception he had given him. It was wholly useless, however, for in the exile of the duke was seen a thing unheard of, perhaps, before, and, in all probability, unlikely ever to occur again–the sight of a whole court espousing the part of an exiled minister, and openly censuring the monarch who could thus reward his services. You, no doubt, remember equally well as myself the long file of carriages that for two days blocked up the road to Chanteloup. In vain did Louis XV express his dissatisfaction; his court flocked in crowds to visit M. de Choiseul.
On the other hand, the castle was not in a more tranquil state. At the news of the dismissal and banishment of M. de Choiseul, a general hue and cry was raised against me and my friends: one might have supposed, by the clamours it occasioned, that the ex-minister had been the atlas of the monarchy; and that, deprived of his succour, the state must fall into ruins. The princesses were loud in their anger, and accused me publicly of having conspired against virtue itself! The virtue of such a sister and brother! I ask you, my friend, is not the idea truly ludicrous?
The dauphiness bewailed his fall with many tears; at least, so I was informed by a lady of her suite, madame de Campan. This lady was a most loquacious person; she frequently visited my sister-in-law; and, thanks to her love of talking, we were always well-informed of all that was passing in the household of Marie Antoinette. However, the dauphin was far from sharing the grief Of his illustrious spouse. When informed of the dismissal of the duke, he cried out, “Well, madame du Barry has saved me an infinity of trouble–that of getting rid of so dangerous a man, in the event of my ever ascending the throne.” The prince did not usually speak of me in the most flattering terms, but I forgave him on the present occasion, so much was I charmed with his expression relative to the late minister; it afforded me the certainty that I should not have to dread the possibility of his recalling de Choiseul.
Whilst many were bewailing the downfall of the des Choiseuls, others, who had an eye more to self-interest, presented themselves to share in the spoils of his fortune. There were the princes de Soubise and de Conde, the duc de la Vauguyon, the comtes de Broglie, de Maillebois, and de Castries, the marquis de Monteynard and many others, equally anxious for a tempting slice of the ministry, and who would have made but one mouthful of the finest and best.
The marquise de 1′ Hopital came to solicit my interest for the prince de Soubise, her lover. I replied, that his majesty would rather have the marechal for his friend than his minister; that, in fact, the different appointments had taken place; and that, if the names of the parties were not immediately divulged, it was to spare the feelings of certain aspirants to the ministry: madame de 1′ Hopital withdrew, evidently much disconcerted at my reply. Certainly M. de Soubise must have lost his reason, when he supposed that the successor of M. de Choiseul would be himself, the most insignificant prince of France; he only could suppose that he was equal to such an elevation. However this may be, he took upon himself to behave very much like an offended person for some days; but, finding such a line of conduct produced no good, he came round again, and presented himself as usual at my parties, whilst I received him as though nothing had occurred.
I had more difficulty in freeing myself from the importunities of Messieurs de Broglie and de Maillebois. I had given to each of them a sort of promise; I had allowed them to hope, and yet, when the time came to realize these hopes, I told them, that I possessed much less influence than was generally imagined; to which they replied, that they knew my power to serve them was much greater than I appeared to believe. After a while, I succeeded in deadening the expectations of M. de Broglie, but M. de Maillebois was long ere he would abandon his pursuit. When every chance of success had left him, he gave way to so much violence and bitterness against M. d’Aiguillon, that the duke was compelled to punish him for his impudent rage. I will mention the other candidates for the ministry at another opportunity.
CHAPTER XXVII
The comte de la Marche and the comtesse du Barry–The countess and the prince de Conde–The duc de la Vauguyon and the countess– Provisional minister–Refusal of the secretaryship of war–Displeasure of the king–The marechale de Mirepoix–Unpublished letter from Voltaire to Madame du Barry–Her reply
The comte de la Marche had always evinced the warmest regard for me, and he sought, on the present occasion, to be repaid for his attachment. Both he and the prince de Conde had their ambitious speculations in the present change of ministers; and both fancied, that because their relation, the duke, had governed during the king’s minority, the right to the several appointments now vacant, belonged as a matter of course to their family. The count had already sent to solicit my interest, through the mediation of madame de Monaco, mistress to the prince de Conde; and, as I shrewdly suspect, the occasional
this measure did not produce all the good he expected, he came, without further preface, to speak to me himself about it. Unwilling to come to an open rupture with him, I endeavoured to make him comprehend, that the policy of the sovereign would never permit his placing any of the administrative power in the hands of the princes of his family; that he had consented, most reluctantly, to investing them with military command, and that it would be fruitless to urge more.
The comte de la Marche appeared struck by the justness of my arguments; he replied,
“Well, madam, since I cannot be a minister, I must e’en give up my wishes; but, for the love of heaven intreat of the king to bestow his favours in the shape of a little pecuniary aid. Things look ill at present; they may take a worse turn, but he may confidently rely on my loyalty and devotion: the supreme courts, driven to the last extremity, will make a stand, and princes and peers will range themselves under the banners. We well know how much this resistance will displease his majesty; I pledge myself never to forsake your cause, but to defend it with my life; that is, if my present pressing necessity for money be satisfied. How say you, madam; can you procure it for me?”
“Very probably I may be enabled to assist you,” replied I; “but you must first inform me how much will satisfy you.”
“Oh,” answered he, carelessly, “something less than the mines of Peru will suffice; I am not extravagant, and merely ask for so much as is absolutely necessary. In the first place 60,000 livres paid down, and secondly, a yearly payment of 200,000 more.”
This demand did not appear to me unreasonable, and I undertook to arrange the matter to the prince’s satisfaction, well pleased on my own side to secure so illustrious an ally at so cheap a rate, I procured the assent of the king and the comptroller-general; the 60,000 livres were bestowed on the comte de la Marche in two separate payments, the pension settled on him, and, still further, an annuity of 30,000 livres was secured to madame de Monaco; and I must do the count the justice to say, that he remained faithful to our cause amidst every danger and difficulty; braving alike insults, opprobrium, and the torrent of pamphlets and epigrams of which he was the object; in fact, we had good reason for congratulating ourselves upon securing such devotion and zeal at so poor a price.
The prince de Conde, surrounded by a greater degree of worldly state and consideration, was equally important to us, although in another way. He had in some degree compromised popularity by attaching himself to me from the commencement of my court favour, and the reception he bestowed on me at Chantilly had completed his disgrace in the eyes of nobility. He visited at my house upon the most friendly footing; and whenever he found me, he would turn the conversation upon politics, the state of affairs, and the great desire he felt to undertake the direction of them in concert with me; he would add, “You might play the part of madame de Pompadour, and yet you content yourself with merely attempting to do so; you are satisfied with possessing influence when you might exercise power and command. Your alliance with a prince of the blood would render you sole mistress in this kingdom; and should I ever arrive, through your means, to the rank of prime minister, it would be my pleasure and pride to submit all things to you, and from this accord would spring an authority which nothing could weaken.”
I listened in silence, and, for once, my natural frankness received a check; for I durst not tell him all I knew of the king’s sentiments towards him. The fact was, Louis XV was far from feeling any regard for the prince de Conde; and, not to mince the matter, had unequivocally expressed his contempt for him. He often said to me, when speaking of him, “He is a conceited fellow, who would fain induce persons to believe him somebody of vast importance.” Louis XV had prejudices, from which no power on earth could have weaned him; and the princes of the house of Conde were amongst his strongest antipathies: he knew a score of scandalous anecdotes relating to them, which he took no small pleasure in repeating.
However, all the arguments of the prince de Conde were useless, and produced him nothing, or, at least, nothing for himself, although he procured the nomination of another to the ministry, as you will hear in its proper place; but this was not sufficient to allay the cravings of his ambition; and, in his rage and disappointment, when open war was proclaimed between the king and his parliament, he ranged himself on the side of the latter. He soon, however, became weary of his new allies; and, once more abandoning himself to the guidance of interest, he rejoined our party. Well did M. de Maupeou know men, when he said they all had their price; and great as may be the rank and title of princes, with plenty of money, they too may be had.
But amongst all the candidates for the ministry, the one who occasioned me the greatest trouble was the duc de la Vauguyon, who insisted upon it that he had done much for me, and complained bitterly of his unrequited services, and of my having bestowed my confidence on others. Up to the moment of the disgrace of the des Choiseuls, he had been amongst the most bitter of the malcontents; but no sooner were they banished from court than M. de la Vauguyon forgot every thing, and hastened to me with every mark of the warmest friendship.
“Ah!” exclaimed he,” I have much to scold you for, but I will forgive you all your past misdeeds, if you will perform your promise to me.”
“My dear father,” cried I (for I used jestingly to style him so, in the same manner as I designated the bishop of Orleans
“If it be true that you entertain any regard for me, why have you evinced so little towards me? Am I not of the right materials for making ministers? Why, then, have you never procured my appointment to any of the vacant situations?”
“Stay, stay, my dear father,” cried I, “how you run on! To hear you talk, any person would suppose that places and appointments rained down upon me, and that I had only to say to you, my dear duke, choose which you please; then, indeed, you might complain with justice; but you know very well, that all these delightful things are in the hands of the king, who alone has a right to bestow them as he judges best, whilst I am wholly powerless in the business.”
“Say, rather,” replied the duke, quickly, “that you find it suits your present purpose to put on this want of power. We all know, that your veto is absolute with his majesty, and it requires nothing more to obtain whatsoever you desire.”
The duc de la Vauguyon was powerful, and represented the whole of a party–that of the religionists, which was still further supported by the
The good duke returned several times to the charge; sometimes endeavouring to move me by gentle intreaties and, at others, holding out threats and menaces; good and bad words flowed from his lips like a mixture of honey and gall, but when he found that both were equally thrown away upon me, he retired offended; and by the expression of his rage and disappointment, succeeded in incensing both the dauphin and dauphiness against me. May heaven preserve you, my friend, from the anger of a bigot!
I think I have detained you long enough with the relation of the intrigues by which I was surrounded upon the dismissal of the des Choiseuls, and I will now return to the morning of the 24th of December. When the exiles were fairly out of Paris, the king found himself not a little embarrassed in the choice of a prime minister. Those who would have suited our purposes did not meet with the king’s approbation, and he had not yet sufficient courage to venture upon electing one who should be disagreeable to us; he therefore hit upon a curious provisional election; the abbe Terray, for instance, was placed at the head of the war department. This measure was excused by the assertion, that it would require the head of a financier to look into and settle the accounts, which the late minister had, no doubt, left in a very confused state. Upon the same principle, M. Bertin was appointed to the direction of foreign affairs, and M. de Boynes was invested solely with the management of naval affairs. This man, who was counsellor of state, and first president of the parliament of Besancon, knew not a letter of the office thus bestowed upon him, but then he was bound body and soul to the chancellor; and it was worth something to have a person who, it might be relied on, would offer no opposition to the important reforms which were to be set on foot immediately. We required merely automata, and M. de Boynes answered our purpose perfectly well; for a provisional minister nothing could have been better.
The king had at length (in his own opinion), hit upon a very excellent minister of war; and the person selected was the chevalier, afterwards comte de Muy, formerly usher to the late dauphin: he was a man of the old school, possessing many sterling virtues and qualities. We were in the utmost terror when his majesty communicated to us his election of a minister of war, and declared his intention of immediately signifying his pleasure to M. de Muy. Such a blow would have overthrown all our projects. Happily chance befriended us; the modern Cato declared that he should esteem himself most honored to serve his sovereign by every possible endeavour, but that he could never be induced to enter my service upon any pretext whatever. The strangeness of this refusal puzzled Louis XV not a little. He said to me. “Can you make out the real motive of this silly conduct? I had a better opinion of the man; I thought him possessed of sense, but I see now that he is only fit for the cowl of a monk; he will never be a minister.” The king was mistaken; M. de Muy became one under the auspices of his successor.
Immediately that the prince de Conde was informed of what had passed, he recommenced his attack; and finding he could not be minister himself, he determined, at least, to be principally concerned in the appointment of one; he therefore proposed the marquis de Monteynard, a man of such negative qualities, that the best that could be said of him was, that he was as incapable of a bad as of a good action; and, for want of a better, he was elected. Such were the colleagues given to M. de Maupeou to conduct the war which was about to be declared against the parliaments. I should tell you,
Meanwhile, the general interest expressed for the duc de Choiseul greatly irritated the king.
“Who would have thought,” said he to me, “that a disgraced minister could have been so idolized by a whole court? Would you believe that I receive a hundred petitions a day for leave to visit at Chanteloup? This is something new indeed! I cannot understand it.”
“Sire,” replied I, “that only proves how much danger you incurred by keeping such a man in your employment.”
“Why, yes,” answered Louis XV; “it really seem as though, had he chosen some fine morning to propose my abdicating the throne in favour of the dauphin, he would only have needed to utter the suggestion to have it carried into execution. Fortunately for me, my grandson is by no means partial to him, and will most certainly never recall him after my death. The dauphin possesses all the obstinacy of persons of confined understanding: he has but slender judgment, and will see with no eye but his own.”
Louis XV augured ill of his successor’s reign, and imagined that the cabinet of Vienna would direct that of Versailles at pleasure. His late majesty was mistaken; Louis XVI is endowed with many rare virtues, but they are unfortunately clouded over by his timidity and want of self-confidence.
The open and undisguised censure passed by the whole court upon the conduct of Louis XV was not the only thing which annoyed his majesty, who perpetually tormented himself with conjectures of what the rest of Europe would say and think of his late determinations.
“I will engage,” said he, “that I am finely pulled to pieces at Potsdam. My dear brother Frederick is about as sweet-tempered as a bear, and I must not dismiss a minister who is displeasing to me without his passing a hundred comments and sarcastic remarks. Still, as he is absolute as the Medes and Persians, surely he can Have no objection to us poor monarchs imitating him; and allow me the same privilege in mine. After all, why should I need his or any other person’s opinion; let the whole world applaud or condemn, I shall still act according to my own best judgment.”
On my side I was far from feeling quite satisfied with the accounts I continued to receive from Chanteloup; above all I felt irritated at the parade of attachment made by the prince de Beauvau for the exiles, and I complained bitterly of it to the marechale de Mirepoix.
“What can I do to help it,” said she; “my sister-in-law is a simpleton; who, after having ruined her brother, will certainly cause the downfall of her husband. I beseech you, my dear, out of regard for me, to put up with the unthinking conduct of the prince de Beauvau for a little while; he will soon see his error and amend it.” He did indeed return to our party, but his obedience was purchased at a heavy price.
Some days after the disgrace of the duc de Choiseul, I received a letter from M. de Voltaire. This writer, who carped at and attacked all subjects, whether sacred or profane, and from whose satires neither great nor small were exempt, had continual need of some powerful friend at court. When his protector, M. de Choiseul, was dismissed, he saw clearly enough that the only person on whom he could henceforward depend to aid and support him, was she who had been chiefly instrumental in removing his first patron. With these ideas he addressed to me the following letter of condolence or, to speak more correctly, of congratulation. It was as follows:–
“MADAME LA COMTESSE,–Fame, with her hundred tongues, has announced to, me in my retreat the fall of M. de Choiseul and your triumph. This piece of news has not occasioned me much surprise, I always believed in the potency of beauty to carry all before it; but, shall I confess it? I scarcely know whether I ought to congratulate myself on the success you have obtained over your enemies. M, de Choiseul was one of my kindest friends, and his all-powerful protection sufficed to sustain me against the malice of my numerous enemies. May a humble creature like me flatter himself with the hope of finding in you the same generous support? for when the god Mars is no longer to be found, what can be more natural than to seek the aid of Pallas, the goddess of the line arts? Will she refuse to protect with her aegis the most humble of her adorers?
“Permit me, madam, to avail myself of this opportunity to lay at your feet the assurance of my most respectful devotion. I dare not give utterance to all my prayers in your behalf, because I am open to a charge of infidelity from some, yet none shall ever detect me unfaithful in my present professions; at my age, ’tis time our choice was made, and our affections fixed. Be assured, lovely countess, that I shall ever remain your attached friend; and that no day will pass without my teaching the echoes of the Alps to repeat your
much-esteemed name.
“I have the honour to remain, malady, yours, etc., etc.”
You may be quite sure, my friend, that I did not allow so singular an epistle to remain long unanswered. I replied to it in the following words:–
“SIR,–The perusal of your agreeable letter made me almost grieve for the disgrace of the duc de Choiseul. Be assured, that to his own conduct, and that of his family, may be alone attributed the misfortune you deplore.
“The regrets you so feelingly express for the calamity which has befallen your late protector do honour to your generous heart; but
recollect that your old friends were not the only persons who could
appreciate and value your fine talents; to be esteemed worthy the honourable appellation of your patron is a glory which the proudest might envy; and, although I cannot boast of being a Minerva, who, after all, was possibly no wiser than the rest of us, I shall always feel proud and happy to serve you with my utmost credit and influence.
“I return you my best thanks for the wishes you express, and the attachment you so kindly profess. You honour me too much by repeating my name amidst the bosom of the Alps! be assured, that I shall not be behindhand in making the saloons of Paris and Versailles resound with yours. Had I leisure for the undertaking, I would go and teach it to the only mountain worthy of re-echoing it–at the foot of Parnassus.
“I am, sir, yours, etc., etc.”
You perceive, my friend, that I intended this reply should be couched in the wittiest style imaginable, yet, upon reading it over at this lapse of time, it appears to me the silliest thing ever penned; nevertheless, I flattered myself I had caught the tone and manner in which M. de Voltaire had addressed me: he perceived my intention, and was delighted with the flattering deference it expressed. You know the vanity of men of letters; and M. de Voltaire, as the first writer of the age, possessed, in proportion, the largest portion of conceit.
CHAPTER XXVIII
A few words respecting Jean Jacques Rousseau–The comtesse du Barry is desirous of his acquaintance–The countess visits Jean Jacques Rousseau–His household furniture– His portrait–Therese– second visit from madame du Barry to Jean Jacques Rousseau–The countess relates her visit to the king–Billet from J. J. Rousseau to madame du Barry–The two duchesses d’Aiguillon
Spite of the little estimation in which I held men of letters, generally speaking, you must not take it for granted that I entertained an equal indifference for all these gentlemen. I have already, I fear, tired your patience when dwelling upon my ardent admiration of M. de Voltaire; I have now to speak to you of that with which his illustrious rival, Jean Jacques Rousseau, inspired me–the man who, after a life so filled with constant trouble and misfortunes, died a few years since in so deplorable a manner. At the period of which I am now speaking this man, who had filled Europe with his fame, was living at Paris, in a state bordering upon indigence. I must here mention, that it was owing to my solicitation that he had been permitted to return from his exile, I having successfully interceded for him with the chancellor and the attorney-general. M. Seguier made no difficulty to my request, because he looked upon Jean Jacques Rousseau as the greatest enemy to a set of men whom he mortally hated–the philosophers. Neither did M. de Maupeou, from the moment he effected the overthrow of the parliament, see any objection to bestowing his protection upon a man whom the parliaments had exiled. In this manner, therefore, without his being aware of it, Rousseau owed to me the permission to re-enter Paris. Spite of the mortifying terms in which this celebrated writer had spoken of the king’s mistresses, I had a lively curiosity to know him; all that his enemies repeated of his uncouthness, and even of his malicious nature, far from weakening the powerful interest with which he inspired me, rather augmented it, by strengthening the idea I had previously formed of his having been greatly calumniated. The generous vengeance which he had recently taken for the injuries he had received from Voltaire particularly charmed me.* I thought only how I could effect my design of seeing him by one means or another, and in this resolution I was confirmed by an accident which befell me one day.
*Jean Jacques Rousseau in his journey through Lyons in June 1770 subscribed for the statue of Voltaire.–author
It was the commencement of April, 1771, I was reading for the fourth time, the “
“Ah! I see you have been perusing ‘
have just been having more than an hour’s conversation respecting its author.”
“What were you saying of him?” asked I.
“Why, my dear, I happened to be at the house of madame de Luxembourg, where I met with the comtesse de Boufflers.”
“Yes, I remember,” said I, “the former of these ladies was the particular friend of Jean Jacques Rousseau.”
“And the second also,” answered she; “and I can promise you, that neither the one or the other spoke too well of him.”
“Is it possible?” exclaimed I, with a warmth I could not repress.
“The duchess,” resumed madame de Mirepoix, “says he is an ill-bred and ungrateful man, and the countess insists upon it he is a downright pedant.”
‘Shameful, indeed,” cried I; “but can you, my dear friend, account for the ill-nature with which these ladies speak of poor Rousseau?”
“Oh! Yes,” replied the marechale, “their motives are easily explained, and I will tell you a little secret, for the truth of which I can vouch. Madame de Luxembourg had at one time conceived the most lively passion for Jean Jacques.”
“Indeed!” cried I; “and he–“
“Did not return it. As for madame de Bouffiers, the case was exactly reversed; and Rousseau has excited her resentment by daring long to nurse a hopeless flame, of which she was the object: this presumption on the part of the poet our dignified countess could never pardon. However, I entreat of you not to repeat this; remember, I tell you in strictest secrecy.”
“Oh, be assured of my discretion,” said I; “I promise you not to publish your secret” (which, by the way, I was very certain was not communicated for the first time when told to me).
This confidence on the part of the marechale had, in some unaccountable manner, only increased the ardent desire I felt to see the author of the “
to madame de Mirepoix, that I had a great curiosity to be introduced to Rousseau.
“I fear,” said she, “you will never be able to persuade him to visit at the chateau.”
“How then can I accomplish my desire of seeing this celebrated man?”
“By one simple method; if he will not come to you, you must go to him. I would willingly accompany you, but he knows me, and my presence would spoil all. The best thing you can do is to dress yourself quite plainly, as a lady from the country, taking with you one of your female attendants. You may take as a pretext for your visit some music you would wish to have copied. Be sure to treat M. de Rousseau as a mere copyist, and appear never to have heard of his superior merit: do this, and you will receive the best possible reception.”
I greatly approved of the marechale ‘s advice, which I assured her I would delay no longer than till the following day to put into practice; and, after some further conversation upon J. J. Rousseau, we parted.
Early the next day I set out for Paris accompanied by Henriette; there, in pursuance of the suggestion of madame de Mirepoix, I dressed myself as a person recently arrived from the country, and Henriette, who was to accompany me, disguised herself as a villager. I assure you, our personal attractions lost nothing by the change of our attire. From the rue de la Jussienne to the rue Platriere is only a few steps; nevertheless, in the fear of being recognised, I took a hired carriage. Having reached our place of destination, we entered, by a shabby door, the habitation of Jean Jacques Rousseau: his apartments were on the fifth floor. I can scarcely describe to you, my friend, the emotions I experienced as I drew nearer and nearer to the author of “Heloise.” At each flight of stairs I was compelled to pause to collect my ideas, and my poor heart beat as though I had been keeping an assignation. At length, however, we reached the fifth story; thereafter having rested a few minutes to recover myself, I was about to knock at a door which was opposite to me, when, as I approached, I heard a sweet but tremulous voice singing a melancholy air, which I have never since heard anywhere; the same voice repeated the romance to which I was listening several times. When it had entirely ceased I profited by the silence to tap with my knuckles against the door, but so feeble was the signal, that even Henriette, who was close behind me, could not hear it. She begged I would permit her to ring a bell which hung near us; and, having done so, a step was heard approaching the door, and, in a minute or two, it was opened by a man of about sixty years of age, who, seeing two females, took off his cap with a sort of clumsy gallantry, at which I affected to be much flattered.
“Pray, sir,” said I, endeavouring to repress my emotion, “does a person named Rousseau, a copier of music, live here?”
“Yes, madam; I am he. What is your pleasure?”
“I have been told, sir, that you are particularly skilful in copying music cheaply; I should be glad if you would undertake to copy these airs I have brought with me.”
“Have the goodness to walk in, madam.”
We crossed a small obscure closet, which served as a species of antechamber, and entered the sitting-room of M. de Rousseau, who seated me in an arm-chair, and motioning to Henriette to sit down, once more inquired my wishes respecting the music.
“Sir,” said I, “as I live in the country, and but very rarely visit Paris, I should be obliged to you to get it done as early as possible.”
“Willingly, madam; I have not much upon my hands just now.”
I then gave to Jean Jacques Rousseau the roll of music I had brought. He begged I would continue seated, requested permission to keep on his cap, and went to a little table to examine the music I had brought.
Upon my first entrance I had perceived a close and confined smell in these miserable apartments, but, by degrees, I became accustomed to it, and began to examine the chamber in which I sat with as strict a scrutiny as though I had intended making an inventory of its contents. Three old elbow-chairs, some rickety stools, a writing-table, on which were two or three volumes of music, some dried plants laid on white-brown paper; beside the table stood an old spinet, and, close to the latter article of furniture, sat a fat and well-looking cat. Over the chimney hung an old silver watch; the walls of the room were adorned with about half a dozen views of Switzerland and some inferior engravings, two only, which occupied the most honourable situations, struck me; one represented Frederick II, and under the picture were written some lines (which I cannot now recollect) by Rousseau himself; the other engraving, which hung opposite, was the likeness of a very tall, thin, old man, whose dress was nearly concealed by the dirt which had been allowed to accumulate upon it; I could only distinguish that it was ornamented with a broad riband. When I had sufficiently surveyed this chamber, the simplicity of which, so closely bordering on want and misery, pained me to the heart, I directed my attention to the extraordinary man who was the occasion of my visit. He was of middle height, slightly bent by age, with a large and expansive chest; his features were common in their cast, but possessed of the most perfect regularity. His eyes, which he from time to time raised from the music he was considering, were round and sparkling but small, and the heavy brows which hung over them, conveyed an idea of gloom and severity; but his mouth, which was certainly the most beautiful and fascinating in its expression I ever saw, soon removed this unfavourable impression. Altogether there belonged to his countenance a smile of mixed sweetness and sadness, which bestowed on it an indescribable charm.
To complete my description, I must not forget to add his dress, which consisted of a dirty cotton cap, to which were fixed strings of a riband that had once been scarlet; a pelisse with arm-holes, a flannel waistcoat, snuff-coloured breeches, gray stockings, and shoes slipped down at the heel, after the fashion of slippers. Such was the portrait, and such the abode of the man who believed himself to be one of the potentates of the earth and who, in fact, had once owned his little court and train of courtiers; for, in the century in which he lived, talent had become as arbitrary as sovereign power–thanks to the stupidity of some of our grandees and the caprice of Frederick of Prussia.
Meanwhile my host, undisturbed by my reflections, had quietly gone over his packet of music. He found amongst it an air from ”
“Madam,” said he, “do you know the author of this little composition?”
“Yes,” replied I, with an air of as great simplicity as I could assume, “it is written by a person of the same name as yourself, who writes books and composes operas. Is he any relation to you?”
My answer and question disarmed the suspicions of Jean Jacques, who was about to reply, but stopped himself, as if afraid of uttering a falsehood, and contented himself with smiling and casting down his eyes. Taking courage from his silence, I ventured to add,–“The M. de Rousseau who composed this pretty air has written much beautiful music and many very clever works. Should I ever know the happiness of becoming a mother I shall owe to him the proper care and education of my child.” Rousseau made no reply, but he turned his eyes towards me, and at this moment the expression of his countenance was perfectly celestial, and I could readily imagine how easily he might have inspired a warmer sentiment than that of admiration.
Whilst we were conversing in this manner, a female, between the age of forty and fifty, entered the room. She saluted me with great affectation of politeness, and then, without speaking to Rousseau, went and seated herself familiarly upon a chair on the other side of the table: this was Therese, a sort of factotum, who served the master of these apartments both as servant and mistress. I could not help regarding this woman with a feeling of disgust; she had a horrible cough, which she told us was more than usually troublesome on that day. I had heard of her avarice; therefore to prevent the appearance of having called upon an unprofitable errand, I inquired of Jean Jacques Rousseau how much the music would cost.
“Six sous a page, madam,” replied he, “is the usual price.”
“Shall I, sir,” asked I, “leave you any cash in hand for the purchase of what paper you will require?”
“No, I thank you, madam,” replied Rousseau, smiling; “thank God! I am not yet so far reduced that I cannot purchase it for you. I have a trifling annuity–“
“And you would be a much richer man,” screamed Therese, “if you would insist upon those people at the opera paying you what they owe you.” These words were accompanied with a shrug of the shoulders, intended to convey a vast idea of her own opinion.
Rousseau made no reply; indeed he appeared to me like a frightened child in the presence of its nurse; and I could quickly see, that from the moment of her entering the room he had become restless and dejected, he fidgeted on his seat, and seemed like a person in excessive pain. At length he rose, and requesting my pardon for absenting himself, he added, “My wife will have the honour to entertain you whilst I am away.” With these words he opened a small glass-door, and disappeared in the neighbouring room.
When we were alone with Therese, she lost no time in opening the conversation.
“Madam,” cried she, “I trust you will have the goodness to excuse M. Rousseau; he is very unwell; it is really extremely vexatious.”
I replied that M. Rousseau had made his own excuses. Just then Therese, wishing to give herself the appearance of great utility, cried out,
“Am I wanted there, M. Rousseau?”
“No, no, no,” replied Jean Jacques, in a faint voice, which died away as if at a distance.
He soon after re-entered the room.
“Madam,” said he, “have the kindness to place your music in other hands to copy; I am truly concerned that I cannot execute your wishes, but I feel too ill to set about it directly.”
I replied, that I was in no hurry; that I should be in Paris some time yet, and that he might copy it at his leisure. It was then settled that it should be ready within a week from that time; upon which I rose, and ceremoniously saluting Therese, was conducted to the door by M. Rousseau, whose politeness led him to escort me thither, holding his cap in his hand. I retired, filled with admiration, respect, and pity.
When next I saw the duc d’Aiguillon, I could not refrain from relating to him all that had happened. My recital inspired him with the most lively curiosity to see Rousseau, whom he had never met in society. It was then agreed, that when I went to fetch my music he should accompany me, disguised in a similar manner to myself, and that I should pass him off as my uncle. At the end of the eight days I repaired early as before to Paris; the duke was not long in joining me there. He was so inimitably well disguised, that no person would ever have detected the most elegant nobleman of the court of France beneath the garb of a plain country squire. We set out laughing. like simpletons at the easy air with which he wore his new costume; nevertheless our gaiety disappeared as we reached the habitation of J. J. Rousseau. Spite of ourselves we were compelled to honour and respect the man of talent and genius, who preferred independence of ideas to riches, and before whom rank and power were compelled to lay aside their unmeaning trappings ere they could reach his presence. When we reached the fifth landing-place I rang, and this time the door was opened by Therese, who told us M Rousseau was out.
“But, madam,” answered I, “I am here by the direction of your husband to fetch away the music he has been engaged in copying for me.”
“Ah, madam,” exclaimed she, “is it you? I did not recollect you again; pray walk in. M. Rousseau will be sure to be at home for you.”
“So, then,” thought I, “even genius has its visiting lists.” We entered; Jean Jacques formally saluted us, and invited us to be seated. He then gave me my music; I inquired what it came to; he consulted a little memorandum which lay upon the table, and replied, ” So many pages, so much paper, eighteen livres twelve sous;” which, of course, I instantly paid. The duc d’Aiguillon, whom I styled my uncle, was endeavoring to lead Rousseau into conversation, when the outer bell rang. Therese went to open the door, and a gentleman entered, of mature age, although still preserving his good looks. The duke regarded him in silence and immediately made signs for me to hasten our departure; I obeyed, and took leave of Rousseau, with many thanks his punctuality. He accompanied us as before to door, and there I quitted him never to see him more. As we were descending the staircase, M. d’Aiguillon told me that the person who had so hastened our departure was Duclas, and that his hurry to quit Rousseau arose from his dread of being recognised by him. Although M. Duclas was a very excellent man, I must own that I owed no small grudge for a visit which had thus abridged ours.
In the evening the duc d’Aiguillon and myself related to the king our morning’s pilgrimage. I likewise recounted my former visit, which I had concealed until now. Louis XV seemed greatly interested with the recital of it; he asked me a thousand questions, and would fain hear the most trifling particulars.
“I shall never forget,” said Louis XV, “the amazing success obtained by his ‘
“ “Yes, madam,” continued his majesty, ” I promise you, that had Rousseau after his success chosen to step forward as a candidate for public favour, he would soon have overthrown Voltaire.” “Pardon me,” replied I; ” but I cannot believe that would have been possible under any circumstances.” “And why not?” asked the king; “he was a man of great talent.” “Doubtless, sire, but not of the kind to compete with Voltaire.” The king then changed the conversation to Therese, inquiring whether she possessed any attractions? “None whatever, sire,” replied the duke; “at least none that we could perceive.” “In that case,” rejoined his majesty, “she must have charmed her master by some of those unseen perfections which take the deepest hold of the heart; besides I know not why we should think it strange that others see with different eyes to ourselves.” I made no secret with the comte Jean of my visit, and he likewise expressed his desire to know a man so justly celebrated, and, in its proper place, you, may hear how he managed to effect this, and what befell him in consequence–but, to finish for the present with Rousseau, for I will not promise that I shall not again indulge in speaking of him. I will just say, that after the lapse of two or three days from the time of my last visit, the idea occurred to me of sending him a thousand crowns in an Indian casket. This I sent by a servant out of livery, whom I strictly enjoined not to name me but to say simply that he came from a lady. He brought back the casket to me unopened, and the following billet from Rousseau:– “MADAM,–I send back the present you would force upon my acceptance in so concealed a manner; if it be offered as a testimony of your esteem I may possibly accept it, when you permit me to know the hand from which it comes. Be assured, madam, that there is much truth in the assertion of its being more easy to give than to receive. “I have the honour to remain, madam, yours, etc., etc., “J. J. ROUSSEAU.” This was rather an uncouth manner of refusing; nevertheless, when at this distance of time I review the transaction, I cannot help admitting that I well deserved it. Perhaps when it first occurred I might have felt piqued, but since I have quitted the court I have again read over the works of J. J. Rousseau, and I now speak of him, as you see, without one particle of resentment. I must now speak to you of a new acquaintance I made about this Period–that of the two duchesses d’Aiguillon. From my first entrance into the chateau until the close of 1770, madame d’Aiguillon, the daughter-in-law, observed a sort of armed neutrality towards me; true, she never visited me, but she always met me with apparent satisfaction at the houses of others; thus she managed to steer clear of one dangerous extreme or the other till the downfall of the des Choiseuls; when the duc d’Aiguillon having been nominated to the ministry, she perceived that she could not, without great ingratitude, omit calling to offer me her acknowledgments, and accordingly she came. On my side, I left no means untried of rendering myself agreeable to her; and so well did I succeed, that from that moment her valuable friendship was bestowed on me with a sincerity which even my unfortunate reverses have been unable to shake; and we are to this day the same firm and true f friends we were in the zenith of my power. Not that I would seek to justify the injury she sought to do our queen, but I may and do congratulate myself, that the same warmth which pervades her hatreds likewise influences her friendships. I cannot equally boast of the treatment I received from the duchess dowager d’Aiguillon, who, as well as her daughter-in-law, came to see me upon the promotion of her son. She overloaded me with caresses, and even exceeded her daughter-in-law in protestations of devotion and gratitude. You should have heard her extol my beauty, wit, and sweetness of disposition; she, in fact, so overwhelmed me with her surfeiting praises, that at last I became convinced that, of the thousand flattering things she continually addressed to me, not one was her candid opinion; and I was right, for I soon learned, that in her circle of intimates at the houses of the Beauffremons, the Brionnes, and above all, the marquise du Deffant, she justified her acquaintance with me, by saying it was a sacrifice made to the interests of her son, and amused these ladies by censuring my every word and look. The dowager’s double-dealing greatly annoyed me; nevertheless, not wishing to vex her son, or her daughter- in-law, I affected to be ignorant of her dishonourable conduct. However, I could not long repress my indignation, and one day that she was praising me most extravagantly, I exclaimed, “Ah, madam, how kind it would be of you to reserve one of these pretty speeches to repeat at madame du Deffant’s.” This blow, so strong yet just, rather surprised her; but, quickly rallying her courage, she endeavoured to persuade me that she always spoke of me in the same terms. “It may be so,” replied I; “but I fear that you say so many flattering things to me, that you have not one left when out of my sight.” The marechale de Mirepoix used to say, that a caress from madame d’Aiguillon was not less to be dreaded than the bite of M. d’Ayen. Yet the duchess dowager has obtained a first-rate reputation for goodness; every one styled her Adieu, my friend; if you are not already terrified at the multiplicity of the letters which compose my journal, I have yet much to say; and I flatter myself the continuance of my adventures will be found no less interesting than those you have perused. CHAPTER XXIX The king’s friends–The duc de Fronsac–The duc d’Ayen’s remark– Manner of living at court–The marquis de Dreux -Breze–Education of Louis XV–The I was now firmly fixed at court, the king, more than ever devoted to me, seemed unable to dispense with my constant presence. I had so successfully studied his habits and peculiarities, that my empire over him was established on a basis too firm to be shaken, whilst my power and unbounded influence convinced my enemies, that, so long as the present monarch sat upon the throne of France, their attempts at diminishing my credit and influence would only recoil upon themselves. Louis XV generally supped in my apartments every evening, unless indeed, by way of change, I went to sup with him. Our guests were of course of the first order, but yet not of the most exemplary morals. These persons had tact, and saw that, to please the king, they must not surpass him; so that, if by chance he should reflect on himself, he would appear to advantage amongst them. Poor courtiers! It was labour in vain. The king was in too much fear of knowing himself to understand that study: he knew the penetration and severity of his own judgment, and on no account would he exercise it at his own expense. The duc de Duras, although a man of little wit, was yet gay and always lively. He amused me; I liked his buoyant disposition, and forgave him although he had ranged himself with the protesting peers. In fact, I could not be angry with him. The folly of opposition had only seized on him because it was epidemic. The dear duke had found himself with wolves, and had begun to howl with them. I am sure that he was astonished at himself when he remembered the signature which he had given, and the love he had testified for the old parliament, for which, in fact, he cared no more than Jean de Vert. God knows how he compensated for this little folly at the chateau. It was by redoubling his assiduities to the king, and by incessant attentions to me. In general, those who wished to thrive at court only sought how to make their courage remembered; M. de Duras was only employed in making his forgotten. The prince de Terigny, the comte d’Escars, the duc de Fleury, were not the least amusing. They kept up a lively strain of conversation, and the king laughed outrageously. But the vilest of the party was the duc de Fronsac. Ye gods! what a wretch! To speak ill of him is no sin. A mangled likeness of his father, he had all his faults with not one of his merits. He was perpetually changing his mistresses, but it cannot be said whether it was inconstancy on his part, or disgust on theirs, but the latter appears to me most probable. Though young, he was devoured by gout or some other infirmity, but it was called gout out of deference to the house of Richelieu. They talked of the duchess de ——, whose husband was said to have poisoned her. The saints of Versailles–the duc de la Vauguyon, the duc d’Estissac, and M. de Durfort–did like others. These persons practised religion in the face of the world, and abstained from loose conversation in presence of their own families; but with the king they laid aside their religion and reserve, so that these hypocrites had in the city all the honours of devotion, and in the royal apartments all the advantages of loose conduct. As for me, I was at Versailles the same as everywhere else. To please the king I had only to be myself. I relied, for the future, on my uniformity of conduct. What charmed him in the evening, would delight again the next day. He had an equilibrium of pleasure, a balance of amusement which can hardly be described; it was every day the same variety; the same journeys, the same fetes, the balls, the theatres, all came round at fixed periods with the most monotonous regularity. In fact, the people knew exactly when to laugh and when to look grave. There was in the chateau a most singular character, the grand master of the ceremonies of France. His great-grandfather, his grandfather, his father, who had fulfilled these functions for a century, had transmitted to him their understanding and their duties. All he thought of was how to regulate the motions and steps of every person at court. He adored the dauphin and dauphiness, because they both diverted and fatigued themselves according to the rules in such cases made and provided. He was always preaching to me and quoted against me the precedents of Diane de Poitiers, or Gabrielle d’Estrees. One day he told me that all the misfortunes of Mademoiselle de la Valliere occurred in consequence of her neglect of etiquette. He would have had all matters pass at court during the old age of Louis XV as at the period of the childhood of Louis XIV, and would fain have had the administration of the Since this word The vices of Louis XV were the result of bad education. When an infant, they gave him for governor the vainest, most coxcombical, stupidest of men–the duc de Villeroi, who had so well served the king ( * The countess alludes to the Never had courtier so much courtiership as he. He saw the young prince from morning till night, and. from morning till night he was incessantly repeating in his ears that his future subjects were born for him, and that they were all dependent on his good and gracious pleasure. Such lessons daily repeated, necessarily destroyed the wise instructions of Massillon. When grown up, Louis XV saw the libertinism of cardinal Dubois and the orgies of the regency: madame de Maillis’ shameless conduct was before his eyes and Richelieu’s also. Louis XV could not conduct himself differently from his ministers and his family. His timid character was formed upon the example of others. At first he selected his own mistresses, but afterwards he chose some one who took that trouble off his hands. Lebel became purveyor in chief to his pleasures; and controlled in Versailles the house known as the As soon as the courtiers knew of the existence and purposes of this house, they intrigued for the control of it. The king laughed at all their efforts, and left the whole management to Lebel, under the superintendence of the comte de Saint-Florentin, minister of the royal household. They installed there, however, a sort of military chief, formerly a major of infantry, who was called, jestingly, M. de Cervieres; his functions consisted in an active surveillance, and in preventing young men from penetrating the seraglio. The soldiers at the nearest station had orders to obey his first summons. His pay was twelve thousand livres a year. A female styled the The Madame of my time was a woman of noble appearance, tall, ascetic, with a keen eye and imperious manner. She expressed a sovereign contempt for all the low-born beauties confided to her trust. However, she did not treat her wards ill, for some one of them might produce a passion in the heart of the king, and she was determined to be prepared for whatever might fall out. As to the noble ladies, they were her favourites. Madame did not divide her flock into fair and dark, which would have been natural, but into noble and ignoble. Besides Madame, there were two under-mistresses, whose duties consisted in keeping company with the young ladies who were placed there. They sometimes dined with new comers, instructed them in polite behaviour, and aided them in their musical lessons or in dancing, history, and literature in which these The general term The noble damsels were served with peculiar etiquette, their servants wore a green livery. Those who belonged to the ignobles, had their valets clothed only in gray. The king had arranged this, and applauded it as one of the most admirable decisions of his life, and contended with me that the families who paid this impost for his pleasures, were greatly indebted to him for it. I assure you, my friend, that there are often very peculiar ideas in the head of a king. After She was in correspondence with all sorts of persons, with the most celebrated The A short time after my sojourn at Versailles, when I was the acknowledged mistress of the king, the duc de Richelieu asked me if I had heard of the “You must do as the marquise de Pompadour did, and as the duc de Richelieu has advised. They spend a vast deal of money in this house, and I undertake to look over their accounts. Nominate me your prime minister, and I shall be the happiest of men. It is impossible but there must be something to be gleaned from his majesty.” “In truth, my dear brother-in-law, you would be in your element; money to handle and young girls to manage. What more could you covet? You will establish a gaming table at the Comte Jean began to laugh, and then seriously advised me to follow the plain counsel of the duc de Richelieu. I decided on doing so. I sent for Madame. She came with all the dignity of an abbess of a regally founded convent. But in spite of her pretensions, I only saw in her the rival of Gourdan and Paris, and treated her as such; that is, with some contempt, for with that feeling her office inspired me. She told me all I have described to you, and many other things which have since escaped me. At that time there were only four < eleves > in the house. CHAPTER XXX Fête given by the comtesse de Valentinois–The comtesse du Barry feigns an indisposition–Her dress–The duc de Cosse-The comte and comtesse de Provence–Dramatic entertainment–Favart and Voisenon–A few observations–A pension–The marechale de Luxembourg –Adventure of M. de Bombelles–Copy of a letter addressed to him– Louis XV–M. de Maupeou and madame du Barry My present situation was not a little embarrassing; known and recognised as the mistress of the king, it but ill accorded with my feelings to be compelled to add to that title the superintendent of his pleasures; and I had not yet been sufficiently initiated into the intrigues of a court life to accept this strange charge without manifest dislike and hesitation. Nevertheless, whilst so many were contending for the honour of that which I condemned, I was compelled to stifle my feelings and resign myself to the bad as well as the good afforded by my present situation; at a future period I shall have occasion again to revert to the The comtesse de Valentinois, flattered by the kindness of the dauphiness’s manner towards her, and wishing still further to insinuate herself into her favour, imagined she should promote her object by requesting that princess would do her the honour to pass an evening at her house; her request was granted, and that too before the duchesse de la Vauguyon could interfere to prevent it. Furious at not having been apprized of the invitation till too late to cause its rejection, she vowed to make the triumphant countess pay dearly for her triumph; for my own part I troubled myself very little with the success of madame de Valentinois, which, in fact, I perceived would rather assist than interfere with my projects. Hitherto I had not made my appearance at any of the houses of the nobility when the princesses were invited thither; this clearly proved to the public, in general, how great was the opposition I experienced from the court party. I was now delighted to prove to the Parisians that I was not always to lead the life of a recluse, but that I could freely present myself at those parties to which other ladies were invited. However, as my friends apprehended that the comtesse de Provence might prevail upon her lady of honour not to invite me, by the advice of the chancellor and the minister for foreign affairs, it was arranged that I should for a week previous to the fete feign a severe indisposition. It would be impossible to describe the joy with which these false tidings were received by my enemies. We are all apt to picture things as we would have them, and already the eager imaginations of the opposing party had converted the account of my illness into an incurable and mortal disease. Every hour my friends brought me in fresh anecdotes of the avidity with which the rumour of my dangerous state had been received, whilst I lay upon what the credulous hopes of my enemies had determined to be my death-bed, laughing heartily at their folly, and preparing fresh schemes to confound and disappoint their anticipated triumph. One very important object of consideration was my dress for the coming occasion. The king presented me with a new set of jewels, and himself selected the materials for my robe and train, which were to be composed of a rich green satin embroidered with gold, trimmed with wreaths of roses, and looped up with pearls; the lower part of this magnificent dress was trimmed with a profusion of the finest Flemish lace. I wore on my head a garland of full blown roses, composed of the finest green and gold work; round my forehead was a string of beautiful pearls, from the centre of which depended a diamond star; add to this a pair of splendid ear-rings, valued at 100,000 crowns, with a variety of jewels equally costly, and you may form some idea of my appearance on that eventful evening. The, king, who presided at my toilette, could not repress his admiration; he even insisted upon clasping my necklace, in order that he might, as he said, flatter himself with having completed such a triumph of nature and art. At the hour fixed upon I set out, conducted by the ducs d’Aiguillon and de Cosse and now I remember I have introduced this latter to you for the first time, however I will promise that it will not be for the last; he possessed, and still possesses all the virtues of his noble house, he was impetuous from a deeply feeling heart, and proud from a consciousness of being properly appreciated. Young, handsome, and daring, he was pre-eminently calculated both to inspire love, and to feel it; it was quite impossible for him to fail in winning the affections of any female he exerted himself to please, and even at the present time that he has lost some of his earlier graces, he is still irresistible as ever; his naturally gay disposition was but ill suited to nourishing grave or philosophic reasoning, but then he was the soul of company, and possessed a fine and delicate wit which ever vented itself in the most brilliant sallies. M. de Cosse like the knights of old, was wholly devoted to his king and his mistress, and would, I am sure, had the occasion required it, have nobly died in defence of either; I only pray he may never be put to the proof. I saw much of him at the beginning of our acquaintance, but as his many amiable qualities became better known, I found myself almost continually in his society, indeed as I have something to confess in the business, I could hardly choose a better opportunity than the present, did I not recollect that the good duc d’Aiguillon is waiting all this while for me to announce the < entree > of our party into the My entrance was a complete The marechale de Mirepoix, to whom I had confided my secret, and of whose fidelity I was assured, was present at the fete. I availed myself of the offer of a seat near her and directly we were seated, “You are a clever creature,” said she, “for you have completely bewildered all the female part of this evening’s society, and by way of a finishing stroke will run away with the hearts of all the flutterers here, before the fair ladies they were previously hovering around, have recovered their first astonishment.” “Upon my word,” said I, smiling, “I do not wonder at the kind looks with which the ladies favour me, if my presence is capable of producing so much mischief.” “Pray, my dear,” answered the marechale, “be under no mistake: you might be as much beloved as others are, if you did not monopolize the king’s affections; the consequence is, that every woman with even a passable face looks upon you as the usurper of
And why, do you suppose? Because she was one of those fat, fresh, portly-looking dames of whom you would have said, her very face and figure bespoke the contented goodness of her disposition; for who would ever suspect malice could lurk in so much
Madame
famous defeat, “
necessary etiquette.
lady, who had no title in the house, because she “carried on the war” out of doors, but still was a most useful personage. In very truth la Mere Bompart was a wonderful animal. Paint to yourself a woman rather small than large, rather fat than lean, rather old than young, with a good foot, a good eye, as robust as a trooper, with a decided “call” for intrigue, drinking nothing but wine, telling nothing but lies, swearing by, or denying God, as suited her purpose. Fancy such an one, and you will have before you
etc. This does not include the cost of the
the indemnities paid to families, the dowry given with them in marriage, the presents made to them, and the expenses of the illegitimate children: this was enormous in cost, at least 2,000,000 livres a year, and yet I make the lowest estimation. The
and never quit it again.”
When she had given me all the details I wished, I sent her away, desiring to be informed of all that passed in her establishment.
ante-room of Madame de Valentinois.
imagined languishing on the bed of sickness, yet there I stood in all the fulness of health and freshness of beauty. I could very easily read upon each countenance the vexation and rage my appearance of entire freedom from all ailment excited; however, I proceeded without any delay to the mistress of the house, whom I found busily engaged in seating her visitors, and playing the amiable to the dauphiness. This princess seemed equally astonished at my unexpected apparition; nevertheless, taken off her guard, she could not prevent herself from courteously returning the profound salutation I made her. As for the duchesse de la Vauguyon, when she saw me, she turned alternately from red to white, and was even weak enough to give public vent to her fury. The comte de Provence, who had been told that I was not expected, began to laugh when he perceived me, and taking the first opportunity of approaching me, he said, “Ah, madame! so you too can mystify your friends, I see! Have a care; the sight of charms like yours is sufficient to strike terror into any adversaries, without having recourse to any expedient to heighten their effect.” Saying this he passed on without giving me the opportunity of replying, as I could have wished to have done.