The Project Gutenberg EBook of Memoirs of the Comtesse du Barry, by
Baron Etienne Leon Lamothe-Langon

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Title: Memoirs of the Comtesse du Barry
       With Minute Details of Her Entire Career as Favorite of
       Louis XV, "Written by Herself"

Author: Baron Etienne Leon Lamothe-Langon

Posting Date: December 6, 2008 [EBook #2563]
Release Date: March, 2001

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEMOIRS OF THE COMTESSE DU BARRY ***




Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer





MEMOIRS OF THE COMTESSE DU BARRY

WITH MINUTE DETAILS OF HER ENTIRE CAREER AS FAVORITE OF LOUIS XV

"WRITTEN BY HERSELF"

By Baron Etienne Leon Lamothe-Langon


With a special introduction by Robert Arnot, M.A.



GUTENBERG EDITOR'S NOTE:

This delightful (piquant, the comtesse would say) pseudonymous work
was in fact written not "by herself" but by Baron Etienne Leon
Lamothe-Langon (1786-1864). The persona created is that of a woman
who always tells the truth as she sees it, but it is made clear to the
reader that what the narrator sees is very seldom exactly the objective
truth. The author ends as well as begins _in medias res_ (in the middle
of the action), thus creating an illusion of a slice of a journal but
simultaneously giving the reader the uneasy feeling that the first and
last chapters seem to be missing.

The French-style quotation marks have, for ease in typesetting and use,
been changed to American-style quotation marks, and the dot after the
name of Louis XV has been removed to conform to American punctuation.
Captions of illustrations are omitted because the illustrations
themselves cannot be inserted. A few minor editing errors have been
silently corrected. No other changes have been made; the irregularity in
italicizing or not italicizing, in translating or not translating French
words, and in punctuating quotations of letters, is in the text itself.

Notes are identified as coming from author, tr. (translator), editor, or
Gutenberg editor.




TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

Letter from Lebel--Visit from Lebel--Nothing conclusive--Another visit
from Lebel--Invitation to sup with the king--Instructions of the comte
Jean to the comtesse

CHAPTER II

A slight preface--Arrival at Versailles--_"La toilette"_--Portrait of
the king--The duc de Richelieu--The marquis de Chauvelin--The duc de la
Vauguyon-Supper with the king--The first night--The following day--The
curiosity of comte Jean--Presents from the king--How disposed of

CHAPTER III

The king's message--Letter from the countess--A second supper at
Versailles--The duc d'Ayen--A short account of M. de Fleury--The duc de
Duras--Conversation with the king--The next day--A visit from the duc
de Richelieu--Visit from the duc de la Vauguyon--Visit from comte
Jean--Visit from the king--A third supper--Favor

CHAPTER IV

The duc d'Aiguillon--The duc de Fronsac--The duchesse de Grammont--The
meeting--Sharp words on both sides--The duc de Choiseul--Mesdames
d'Aiguillon--Letter from the duc d'Aiguillon--Reply of madame du
Barry--Mademoiselle Guimard--The prince de Soubise--Explanation--The
Rohans--Madame de Marsan--Court friendships

CHAPTER V

The duc de la Vauguyon and the comtesse du Barry--The marquis
de Chauvelin and the comtesse--M. de Montbarrey and the
comtesse--Intrigues--Lebel--Arrival of the du Barry family--The comte
d'Hargicourt--The demoiselles du Barry--Marriage of the comtesse--The
marquis de Bonrepos--Correspondences--The broken glass

CHAPTER VI

Journey to Choisy--The comtesse du Barry and Louis XV--The king of
Denmark--The czar Peter--Frederick II--The abbe de la Chapelle--An
experiment--New intrigues--Secret agents-The comtesse and Louis
XV--Of the presentation--Letter of the comtesse to the duc
d'Aiguillon--Reply--Prince de Soubise

CHAPTER VII

The comtesse and the duc d'Aiguillon--M. de Soubise--Louis XV and the
duc d'Aiguillon--Letter from the comtesse to the king--Answer of
the king-The "_Nouvelles a la Main_"--The comtesse and Louis XV--The
supper--The court ladies mystified--The comtesse and M. de Sartines

CHAPTER VIII

The sieur Ledoux--The _lettre de cachet_--The duc de la
Vrilliere--Madame de Langeac--M. de Maupeou--Louis XV--The comte Jean

CHAPTER IX

The king of Denmark--The courtesans of Paris--The duc de Choiseul and
the bishop of Orleans--Witty repartees of the king of Denmark--His visit
to madame du Barry--"The court of king Petaud," a satire--Letter of
the duc d'Aiguillon to Voltaire--The duchesse de Grammont
mystified--Unpublished letter of Voltaire's

CHAPTER X

When is the presentation to take place?--Conversation on this subject
with the king--M. de Maupeou and M. de la Vauguyon--Conversation on
the same subject with the king and the duc de Richelieu--M. de
la Vrilliere--M. Bertin---Louis XV and the comtesse--The king's
promise--The fire-works, an anecdote--The marquise de Castellane--M. de
Maupeou at the duc de Choiseul's--The duchesse de Grammont

CHAPTER XI

A word concerning the duchesse de Choiseul--The apartment of the Comte
de Noailles--The Noailles--Intrigues for presentation--The comte de
Bearn--M. Morand once more--Visit of the comtesse Bearn to the comtesse
du Barry--Conversation--Interested complaisance--The king and the
comtesse du Barry--Dispute and reconciliation

CHAPTER XII

The comtesse de Bearn--The supper--Louis XV--Intrigues against
my presentation--M. de Roquelaure--The scalded foot--The comtesse
d'Aloigny--The duc d'Aiguillon and madame de Bearn--Anger of the king's
daughters--Madame Adelaide and the comtesse du Barry--Dissatisfaction of
the king

CHAPTER XIII

Of the presentation--The king and the duc de Richelieu at comtesse du
Barry's--M. de la Vauguyon--Conversation--Letter of the duke to the
comtesse du Barry--Reply--The countess unites herself with the Jesuit
party--Madame Louise--Madame Sophie--M. Bertin--Madame de Bercheny

CHAPTER XIV

The princesses consent to the presentation of madame du Barry--Ingenious
artifice employed by the king to offer a present to the duc de la
Vauguyon--Madame du Barry's letter respecting it--The duke's reply--The
king's letter--The court in despair--Couplets concerning madame du
Barry--Her presentation--A change in public opinion--An evening party at
the house of the countess--Joy of her partizans--Conversation with the
chancellor respecting the lady of the marechal de Mirepoix

CHAPTER XV

The Comte de la Marche, a prince of the blood--Madame de Beauvoir, his
mistress--Madame du Barry complains to the prince de Soubise of the
princess de Guemenee--The king consoles the countess for this--The duc
de Choiseul--The king speaks to him of madame du Barry--Voltaire writes
to her--The opinions of Richelieu and the king concerning Voltaire

CHAPTER XVI

Unpublished letter of Voltaire to madame du Barry--Reply of the
countess--The marechale de Mirepoix--Her first interview with madame du
Barry--Anecdote of the diamonds of madame de Mirepoix--The king pays
for them--Singular gratitude of the marechale--The portfolio, and an
unpublished letter of the marquise de Pompadour

CHAPTER XVII

Conversation of the marechale de Mirepoix with the comtesse du Barry
on court friendship--Intrigues of madame de Bearn--Preconcerted meeting
with madame de Flaracourt---Rage of madame de Bearn--Portrait and
conversation of madame de Flaracourt with the comtesse du Barry--Insult
from the princesse de Guemenee--Her banishment--Explanation of the
king and the duc de Choiseul relative to madame du Barry--The comtesse
d'Egmont

CHAPTER XVIII

Intrigue of the comtesse d'Egmont with a shopman--His unhappy
fate--The comtesse du Barry protects him--Conduct of Louis XV upon the
occasion--The young man quits France--Madame du Barry's letter to the
comtesse d'Egmont--Quarrel with the marechal de Richelieu

CHAPTER XIX

Madame du Barry separates from madame de Bearn--Letters between
these ladies--Portrait of madame de l'Hopital--The ladder--The
bell--Conversation with madame de Mirepoix--First visit to
Chantilly--Intrigues to prevent the countess from going thither--The
king's Displeasure towards the princesses--The archbishop de Senlis

CHAPTER XX

Unpublished letter of Louis XV--Madame du Barry's cousin, M. de
Maupeou--The comtesse du Barry saves the life of a young girl seduced by
the arts of the cure of her village--She obtains pardon of the comte
and comtesse de Louerne--The king presents her with Lucienne--A second
meeting with the youthful prophet--His further predictions--He is sought
for--His mysterious letter to the countess

CHAPTER XXI

Extraordinary anecdote of Louis XIV and madame de Maintenon--The
comtesse du Barry at Chantilly--Opinion of king and comte de la Marche
respecting the "Iron Mask"--Madame du Barry visits madame de Lagarde

CHAPTER XXII

The chevalier de la Morliere--Portrait of the duc de Choiseul--The
duc de Choiseul and the comtesse du Barry--No reconciliation
effected--Madame du Barry and the duc d'Aiguillon--Madame du Barry and
Louis XV

CHAPTER XXIII

Dorine--Mademoiselle Choin and the marechal d'Uxelles--Zamor--M. de
Maupeou's wig--Henriette--The duc de Villeroi and Sophie--Letter from
the comtesse du Barry to the duc de Villeroi--His reply--The countess
writes again--Madame du Barry and Sophie--Louis XV and the comtesse du
Barry

CHAPTER XXIV

The prince des Deux Ponts--Prince Max--The dauphin and Marie
Antoinette--The comtesse du Barry and Bridget Rupert--The countess and
Genevieve Mathon--Noel--Fresh amours--Nocturnal adventure--Conclusion of
this intrigue

CHAPTER XXV

Madame du Barry succeeds in alienating Louis XV from the duc de
Choiseul--Letter from madame de Grammont--Louis XV--The chancellor
and the countess--Louis XV and the abbe de la Ville--The marechale de
Mirepoix and madame du Barry

CHAPTER XXVI

Baron d'Oigny, general post-master--The king and the countess read the
opened letters--The disgrace of de Choiseul resolved upon--_Lettre de
cachet _--Anecdote--Spectre of Philip II, king of Spain--The duc de
Choiseul banished--Visits to Chanteloup--The princesses--The dauphin and
dauphiness--Candidates for the ministry

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

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--A 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

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 _Parc-aux-Cerfs_--Its household--Its inmates--Mere
Bompart--Livres expended on the _Parc-aur-Cerfs_--Good advice--Madame

CHAPTER XXX

Fete 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

CHAPTER XXXI

Madame du Barry purchases the services of Marin the gazetteer--Louis
XV and madame de Rumas--M. de Rumas and the comtesse du Barry--An
intrigue--_Denouement_--A present upon the occasion--The duc de
Richelieu in disgrace--100,000 livres

CHAPTER XXXII

A prefatory remark--Madame Brillant--The marechale de Luxembourg's
cat--Despair of the marechale--The ambassador, Beaumarchais, and the duc
de Chaulnes--the comte d'Aranda--Louis XV and his relics--The abbe de
Beauvais--His sermons--He is appointed bishop

CHAPTER XXXIII

M. D----n and madame de Blessac--Anecdote--The rendezvous and
the Ball--The wife of Gaubert--They wish to give her to the
king--Intrigues--Their results--Letter from the duc de la Vrilliere to
the countess--Reply--Reconciliation

CHAPTER XXXIV

Conversation with the king--Marriage of the comte
d'Artois--Intrigues--The place of lady of honor--The marechale de
Mirepoix--The comtesse de Forcalquier and madame du Barry--The comtesse
de Forcalquier and madame Boncault

CHAPTER XXXV

Marriage of madame Boncault--The comte de Bourbon Busset--Marriage of
comte d'Hargicourt--Disgrace of the comte de Broglie--He is replaced
by M. Lemoine--The king complains of ennui--Conversations on the
subject--Entry into Paris

CHAPTER XXXVI

Visit from a stranger--Madame de Pompadour and a Jacobinical
monk--Continuation of this history--Deliverance of a state prisoner--A
meeting with the stranger

CHAPTER XXXVII

A conspiracy--A scheme for poisoning madame du Barry--The four
bottles--Letter to the duc d'Aiguillon--Advice of the ministers--Opinion
of the physicians--The chancellor and lieutenant of police--Resolution
of the council

CHAPTER XXXVIII

Conclusion of this affair--A letter from the _incognita_--Her
examination--Arrest of Cabert the Swiss--He dies in the Bastille of
poison--Madame Lorimer is arrested and poisoned---The innocence of
the Jesuits acknowledged--Madame de Mirepoix and the 100,000
francs--Forgetfulness on the part of the lieutenant of police--A visit
from comte Jean--Madame de Mirepoix

CHAPTER XXXIX

My alarms--An _eleve_ of the _Pare-aux-Cerfs_--Comte Jean endeavours to
direct the king's ideas--A supper at Trianon--Table talk--The king is
seized with illness--His conversation with me--The joiner's daughter and
the small-pox--My despair--Conduct of La Martiniere the surgeon

CHAPTER XL.

La Martiniere causes the king to be removed to Versailles--The young
prophet appears again to madame du Barry--Prediction respecting
cardinal de Richelieu--The joiner's daughter requests to see madame du
Barry--Madame de Mirepoix and the 50,000 francs--A _soiree_ in the salon
of madame du Barry

CHAPTER XLI

Interview with the joiner's daughter--Consultation of the physicians
respecting the king--The small-pox declares itself--the comte de
Muy--The princesses--Extreme sensibility of madame de Mirepoix--The
king is kept in ignorance of his real condition--The archbishop of Paris
visits Versailles

CHAPTER XLII

First proceedings of the council--The dauphin receives the prelates with
great coolness--Situation of the archbishop of Paris--Richelieu evades
the project for confessing the king--The friends of madame du Barry
come forward--The English physician--The abbe Terray--Interview with the
prince de Soubise--The prince and the courtiers--La Martiniere informs
the king of France the true nature of his complaint--Consequences of
this disclosure

CHAPTER XLIII

Terror of the king--A complication--Filial piety of the princesses--Last
interview between madame du Barry and Louis XV--Conversation with the
marechale de Mirepoix--The chancellor Maupeou--The fragment--Comte Jean

CHAPTER XLIV

The duc d'Aiguillon brings an order for the immediate departure of
madame du Barry--The king's remarks recapitulated--The countess holds
a privy council--Letter to madame de Mirepoix and the ducs de Cosse and
d'Aiguillon--Night of departure--Ruel--Visit from madame de Forcalquier

CHAPTER XLV

The duc d'Aiguillon's first letter--The marechale de Mirepoix--A second
letter from the duc d'Aiguillon--Numerous visitors

CHAPTER XLVI

A third letter from the duke--The king receives extreme unction--Letter
from madame Victoire to the dauphin--M. de Machault--A promenade with
the duc de Cosse--Kind attention from the prince des Deux Pouts--A
fourth letter from the duc d'Aiguillon--Comte Jean bids me farewell--M.
d'Aiguillon's fifth letter, containing an account of the death of Louis
XV--The duc de la Vrilliere--The _Lettre de cachet_--Letter to the
queen--Departure for the abbey of _Pont aux Dames_




SPECIAL INTRODUCTION BY ROBERT ARNOT

Up to the time of the Du Barry the court of France had been the stage
where the whole political and human drama of that country was enacted.
Under Louis XV the drama had been transformed into parades--parades
which were of as much importance to the people as to those who took
part in them. The spectators, hitherto silent, now began to hiss and be
moved. The scene of the comedy was changed, and the play was continued
among the spectators. The old theatre became an ante-chamber or a
dressing-room, and was no longer important except in connection with the
Cardinal de Bernis and the Duc de Richelieu, or Madame de Pompadour and
Madame du Barry.

The monarchy had still a step to take towards its downfall. It had
already created the _Pare aux Cerfs_ (Louis XV's seraglio), but had
not yet descended to the Parisian house of prostitution. It made this
descent leaning on the arm of Madame du Barry. Madame du Barry was a
moral sister to Manon Lescaut, but instead of taking herself off to
Louisiana to repent, she plunged into the golden whirlpool at Versailles
as a finish to her career. Could the coaches of a King mean more than
the ordinary carriage of an abandoned girl?

Jeanne Vaubernier--known in the bagnios by the name of Mademoiselle
Lange--was born at Vaucouleurs, as was Jeanne d'Arc. Better still, this
later Jeanne said openly at Versailles--dared she say otherwise?--that
she was descended in a straight line from the illustrious, the
venerated, the august, sacred, national maid, Jeanne. "Why did Du Barry
come to Paris?'" says Leon Gozlan in that account of the Chateau de
Lucienne which makes a brilliant and learned chapter in the history of
France. "Does one ever know precisely why things are done? She obeyed
the magnet which attracts to Paris all who in themselves have a title to
glory, to celebrity, or to misfortune. Du Barry had a pretty, provincial
face, bright and charming, a face astonished at everything, hair soft
and ash-colored, blue eyes, veiled and half open, and a skin fair with
rose tints. She was a child of destiny. Who could have said, when she
crossed the great town in her basket cart, which rolled lazily along
on its massive, creaking wheels, that some day she would have equipages
more beautiful than any of those which covered her with mud in passing,
and on her arms more laces and diamonds than any of these ladies
attended by footmen in liveries?"

When Jeanne left the provinces to come to Paris, she found her native
country. She was granted the freedom of the city, and expanded in
her joy like a delicate plant transplanted into a hothouse. She found
herself at home for the first time; and felt that she could rule as a
despot over all frequenters of the streets. She learned fashion and
love at one and the same time. Gourdan had a hat made for her, and, as
a reward, initiated her into the customs. But she was called to other
destinies.

One day, when she was walking in the Tuileries, a lunatic--and lunatics
have second sight--asked her favor when she should become queen. Du
Barry said to herself: "This man is mad." But then she thought of the
Pompadour, blushed--it was the only time--and turned her eyes towards
Versailles.

But Versailles was an unhoped-for shore to such a girl as this, a girl
known to all Paris. Would the King care to be the lover of one who had
ruled all his courtesans? Who could say? The King often wearied of what
he had. Had not a poet already been found who compared her to Venus:

     O Jeanne, thy beauty seduces
     And charms the whole world;
     In vain does the duchess redden
     And the princess growl;
     They know that Venus rides proudly
     The foam of the wave.

The poet, while not Voltaire, was no less a man than Bouffiers.

While the King was seeking a mistress--a nocturnal reverse of Diogenes,
fleeing from the lanterns of the wise--he found Jeanne Vaubernier. He
thought he could love her for one evening. "Not enough," said she, "you
must love me until broad daylight." So he loved her for a whole day.
What should one eat in order to be loved by royalty? Was it necessary to
have a coat of arms? She had them in number, because she had been loved
by all the great names in the book of heraldry. And so she begged the
Viscount Jean du Barry to give her the title of viscountess. "Better
still," exclaimed Jean, "I will give you the title of countess. My
brother will marry you; he is a male scamp, and you are the female. What
a beautiful marriage!"

So they were united. The newly made countess was solemnly presented at
court by a countess of an ancient date, namely, the Countess de Bearn.
King Voltaire protested, in a satire entitled "_The Court of King
Petaud_" (topsy-turvy), afterwards denying it. The duc de Choiseul
protested, France protested, but all Versailles threw itself
passionately at the feet of the new countess. Even the daughters of the
King paid her court, and allowed her to call them by their pet
names: Loque, Chiffe, and Graille. The King, jealous of this gracious
familiarity, wished her to call him by some pet name, and so the
Bacchante, who believed that through the King she held all France in her
hand, called him "La France," making him a wife to his Gray Musketeers.

Oh, that happy time! Du Barry and Louis XV hid their life--like the
sage--in their little apartments. She honeyed his chocolate, and
he himself made her coffee. Royalty consecrated a new verb for the
dictionary of the Academy, and Madame du Barry said to the King: "At
home, I can love you to madness." The King gave the castle of Lucienne
to his mistress in order to be able to sing the same song. Truly the
Romeo and Juliet _de la main gauche_.

Du Barry threw out her fish-wifely epithets with ineffable tenderness.
She only opened her eyes half way, even when she took him by the throat.
The King was enchanted by these humors. It was a new world. But someone
said to him: "Ah, Sire, it is easy to see that your Majesty has never
been at the house of Gourdan."

Yet Du Barry was adored by poets and artists. She extended both hands to
them. Jeanne's beauty had a penetrating, singular charm. At once she
was blonde and brunette--black eyebrows and lashes with blue eyes,
rebellious light hair with darker shadows, cheeks of ideal contour,
whose pale rose tints were often heightened by two or three touches--a
lie "formed by the hand of Love," as anthology puts it--a nose with
expressive nostrils, an air of childlike candour, and a look seductive
to intoxication. A bold yet shrinking Venus, a Hebe yet a Bacchante.
With much grace Voltaire says:

"Madame:

"M. de la Borde tells me that you have ordered him to kiss me on both
cheeks for you:

     "What!  Two kisses at life's end
     What a passport to send me!
     Two is one too much, Adorable Nymph;
     I should die of pleasure at the first.

"He showed me your portrait, and be not offended, Madame, when I tell
you that I have taken the liberty of giving that the two kisses."

Perhaps Voltaire would not have written this letter, had he not read the
one written by the King to the Duc de Choiseul, who refused to pay court
to the left-hand queen:

"My Cousin,

"The discontent which your acts cause me forces me to exile you to
Chanteloup, where you will take yourself within twenty-four hours. I
would have sent you farther away were it not for the particular esteem
in which I hold Madame de Choiseul. With this, I pray God, my cousin, to
take you into His safe and holy protection.

"Louis."

This exile was the only crime of the courtesan. On none of her enemies
did she close the gates of the Bastille. And more than once did she
place a pen in the hands of Louis XV with which to sign a pardon.
Sometimes, indeed, she was ironic in her compassion.

"Madame," said M. de Sartines to her one day, "I have discovered a rogue
who is scattering songs about you; what is to be done with him?"

"Sentence him to sing them for a livelihood."

But she afterwards made the mistake of pensioning Chevalier de Morande
to buy silence.

The pleasures of the King and his favorite were troubled only by the
fortune-tellers. Neither the King nor the countess believed in the
predictions of the philosophers, but they did believe in divination. One
day, returning from Choisy, Louis XV found under a cushion of his coach
a slip of paper on which was transcribed this prediction of the monk
Aimonius, the savant who could read all things from the vast book of the
stars:

"As soon as Childeric had returned from Thuringia, he was crowned King
of France And no sooner was he King than he espoused Basine, wife of the
King of Thuringia. She came herself to find Childeric. The first night
of the marriage, and before the King had retired, the queen begged
Childeric to look from one of the palace windows which opened on a park,
and tell what he saw there. Childeric looked out and, much terrified,
reported to the princess that he had seen tigers and lions. Basine sent
him a second time to look out. This time the prince only saw bears and
wolves, and the third time he perceived only cats and dogs, fighting
and combating each other. Then Basine said to him: I will give you
an explanation of what you have seen: The first figure shows you
your successors, who will excel you in courage and power; the second
represents another race which will be illustrious for their conquests,
and which will augment your kingdom for many centuries; but the third
denotes the end of your kingdom, which will be given over to pleasures
and will lose to you the friendship of your subjects; and this because
the little animals signify a people who, emancipated from fear of
princes, will massacre them and make war upon each other."

Louis read the prediction and passed the paper to the Countess: "After
us the end of the world," said she gaily. The King laughed, but the abbe
de Beauvais celebrated high mass at Versailles after the carnival of
1774, and dared to say, in righteous anger: "This carnival is the last;
yet forty days and Nineveh shall perish." Louis turned pale. "Is it God
who speaks thus?" murmured he, raising his eyes to the altar. The next
day he went to the hunt in grand style, but from that evening he was
afraid of solitude and silence: "It is like the tomb; I do not wish
to put myself in such a place," said he to Madame du Barry. The duc
de Richelieu tried to divert him. "No," said he suddenly, as if the
Trappist's denunciation had again recurred to him, "I shall be at ease
only when these forty days have passed." He died on the fortieth day.

Du Barry believed neither in God nor in the devil, but she believed in
the almanac of Liege. She scarcely read any book but this--faithful to
her earliest habits. And the almanac of Liege, in its prediction for
April, 1774, said: "A woman, the greatest of favorites, will play her
last role." So Madame the Countess du Barry said without ceasing:
"I shall not be tranquil until these forty days have passed." The
thirty-seventh day the King went to the hunt attended with all the
respect due to his rank. Jeanne wept in silence and prayed to God as one
who has long neglected her prayers.

Louis XV had not neglected his prayers, and gave two hundred thousand
livres to the poor, besides ordering masses at St. Genevieve. Parliament
opened the shrine, and knelt gravely before that miraculous relic. The
least serious of all these good worshippers was, strange to say, the
curate of St. Genevieve: "Ah, well!" said he gaily, when Louis was dead,
"let us continue to talk of the miracles of St. Genevieve. Of what can
you complain? Is not the King dead?"

At the last moment it was not God who held the heart of Louis--it was
his mistress. "Ask the Countess to come here again," he said.

"Sire, you know that she has gone away," they answered.

"Ah! has she gone? Then I must go!" So he departed.

His end drew forth some maledictions. There were insults even at his
funeral services. "Nevertheless," said one old soldier, "he was at the
battle of Fontenoy." That was the most eloquent funeral oration of Louis
XV.

"The King is dead, long live the King!" But before the death of Louis
XVI they cried: "The king is dead, long live the Republic!"

Rose-colored mourning was worn in the good city of Paris. The funeral
oration of the King and a lament for his mistress were pronounced by
Sophie Arnould, of which masterpiece of sacred eloquence the last words
only are preserved: "Behold us orphaned both of father and mother."

If Madame du Barry was one of the seven plagues of royalty, she died
faithful to royalty. After her exile to Pont aux Dames she returned to
Lucienne, where the duc de Cosse Brissac consoled her for the death of
Louis XV. But what she loved in Louis was that he was a king; her true
country was Versailles; her true light was the sun of court life. Like
Montespan, also a courtesan of high order, she often went in these dark
days to cast a loving look upon the solitary park in the maze of the
Trianon. Yet she was particularly happy at Lucienne.

I have compared her to Manon Lescaut, and I believe her to have been
also a sister to Ganesin. All three were destroyed by passion.

One day she found herself still young at Lucienne, although her sun was
setting. She loved the duc de Brissac, and how many pages of her past
romance would she that day have liked to erase and forget!

"Why do you weep, Countess?" asked her lover.

"My friend," she responded, "I weep because I love you, shall I say it?
I weep because I am happy."

She was right; happiness is a festival that should know no to-morrow.
But on the morrow of her happiness, the Revolution knocked at the castle
gate of Lucienne.

"Who goes there?"

"I am justice; prepare for destiny."

The Queen, the true queen, had been good to her as to everybody. Marie
Antoinette remembered that the favorite had not been wicked. The debts
of Du Barry were paid and money enough was given to her so that she
could still give with both hands. Lucienne became an echo of Versailles.
Foreign kings and Parisian philosophers came to chat in its portals.
Minerva visited shameless Venus. But wisdom took not root at Lucienne.

For the Revolution, alas! had to cut off this charming head, which was
at one time the ideal of beauty--of court beauty. Madame du Barry gave
hospitality to the wounded at the arrest of the queen. "These wounded
youths have no other regret than that they have not died for a princess
so worthy as your Majesty," she said. "What I have done for these brave
men is only what they have merited. I consoled them, and I respect their
wounds when I think, Madame, that without their devotion, your Majesty
would no longer be alive. Lucienne is yours, Madame, for was it not your
beneficence which gave it to me? All I possess has come to me through
the royal family. I have too much loyalty to forget it."

But negro Zamor became a citizen like Mirabeau. It was Zamor who took to
Du Barry her lover's head. It was Zamor who denounced her at the club of
the Jacobins. "The fealty (faith) of the black man is white," said the
negro. But he learned how to make it red. Jeanne was imprisoned and
tried before Dumas.

"Your age?"

"Forty-two years." She was really forty-seven. Coquetry even at the
guillotine.

The public accuser, Fouquier Tinville, was not disarmed by the sweet
voluptuousness still possessed by this pale and already fading beauty.
He accused her of treason against the nation. Could the defender of Du
Barry, who had also defended Marie Antoinette, find an eloquent word?
No; Fouquier Tinville was more eloquent than Chauveau-Lagarde. So
the mistress of Louis was condemned. It was eleven o'clock in the
evening--the hour for supper at Versailles when she was queen!

She passed the night in prayer and weeping, or rather in a frenzy of
fright. In the morning she said it was "too early to die"; she wished
to have a little time in order to make some disclosures. The Comite sent
someone to listen to her. What did she say? She revealed all that was
hidden away at Lucienne; she gave word by word an inventory of the
treasures she had concealed, forgetting nothing, for did not each word
give her a second of time?

"Have you finished?" said the inquisitor. "No," said Jeanne. "I have not
mentioned a silver syringe concealed under the staircase!"

Meanwhile the horses of destiny stamped with impatience, and spectators
were knocking at the prison gate. When they put her, already half
dead, on the little cart, she bent her head and grew pale. The Du Barry
alone--a sinner without redemption.

She saw the people in the square of Louis XV; she struck her breast
three times and murmured: "It is my fault!" But this Christian
resignation abandoned her when she mounted the scaffold--there where the
statue of Louis XV had been--and she implored of the executioner:

"One moment, Mr. Executioner! One moment more!"

But the executioner was pitiless Sanson. It was block and the
knife--without the "one moment!"

Such was the last bed of the Du Barry. Had the almanac of Liege only
predicted to her that the one who would lead her to her bed for the
last time would not be a King but a citizen executioner, it might have
been--but why moralize?

    Robert Arnot



_To the Reader_

_As the early part of Madame du Barry's career had little to
differentiate it from the life of an ordinary courtezan, the editor has
deemed it best to confine the memoirs to the years in her life which
helped to make history._

_--Editor*_

      * "Editor here means the author, who is assuming
      the persona of the editor of the Comtesse's memoirs.




CHAPTER I


     Letter from Lebel--Visit from Lebel--Nothing conclusive--
     Another visit from Lebel--Invitation to sup with the king--
     Instructions of the comte Jean to the comtesse

One morning comte Jean entered my apartment, his face beaming with
delight.

"Read," said he, giving me a letter, "read, Jeannette: victory is ours.
News from Morand. Lebel is coming to Paris, and will dine with us. Are
we alone?"

"No, there are two of your countrymen whom you invited yesterday."

"I will write and put them off. Morand alone must dine with Lebel; he
ought to have a place at the feast which he furnishes with such good
music. Come, my dear girl, we touch the moment of importance, it is in
your beauty and power of pleasing that I place all my hopes. I think
I may rely on you; but, above all, do not forget that you are my
sister-in-law."

"Brother-in-law," said I, laughing, "it is not unnecessary that I should
know decidedly to which of family I am married? The custom in France is
not that a woman be the undivided property of three brothers."

"That only happens in Venice," replied the comte; "my brother Elie is
too young, you must be the wife of Guillaume, my second brother."

"Very well; I am the comtesse Guillaume du Barry; that does famously
well; we like to know whom we are married to."

After this conversation, comte Jean insisted on presiding at my
toilette. He acquitted himself of the task, with a most laughable
attention. During two good hours, at least, he tormented first
Henriette, and then the female hairdresser, for I had not yet followed
the mode, which began to be very general, of having my hair dressed by a
man. Comte Jean passed alternately from my dressing-room to the kitchen.
He knew Lebel was a gallant and a gourmand, and he was anxious to please
him in all senses at once.

At one o'clock I was under arms, and prepared to receive him on whom
my destiny depended. As soon as I reached the drawing-room, comte Jean
compelled me to submit to the test of a rigid examination.

His serious air amused me much as he gazed at me some time in solemn
silence. At length his forehead relaxed, a smile of satisfaction played
on his lips, and extending his arms to me, without venturing to touch
me, "You are charming, divine," he said; "Lebel ought to go and hang
himself if he does not fall down at your knees."

Soon afterwards the folding-doors were hastily opened, and a servant
announced M. Lebel, _premier de sa Majeste_, with M. Morand. The comte
went to meet the arrivals, and as I now saw Lebel for the first time, he
presented him to me formally.

"Sister, this is M. Lebel, _premier de sa Majeste _, who has done us the
honor to come and dine with us."

"And he confers a real pleasure on us," said I, looking smilingly on M.
Lebel. My look had its effect, for Lebel remained mute and motionless
from admiration at my person. At length he stammered out a few
incoherent words, which I imagined to be compliments. The comte watched
Lebel anxiously, and Morand began to rub his hands, saying:

"Well, sir, what think you of our celestial beauty?"

"She is worthy of a throne," replied Lebel, bending his head before
me, and taking my hand, which he pressed respectfully to his lips. This
reply was, perhaps, inadvertently made, but I took it as a good augury.
"Yes," added Lebel, "you are the most lovely creature I ever met, though
no one is more in the habit of seeing handsome females than myself."

"And of causing them to be seen by others," replied comte Jean.

This was an opening which was not followed up by Lebel. His first
enthusiasm having passed, he measured me from head to foot, as if he
would take an accurate description of my person.

For my part I began to support the looks of Lebel with more assurance.
He was a man of no particular "mark or likelihood," but had made
his way. Living at Versailles had given him a certain air of easy
impertinence, but you could not discover anything distinguished in his
manners, nothing which concealed his humble extraction. The direction
of the _Parc aux Cerfs_ gave him much influence with the king, who found
the convenience of such a man, who was willing to take upon himself all
the disagreeable part of his clandestine amours. His duties placed
him in contact with the ministers, the lieutenant of police, and the
comptroller-general. The highest nobility sought his friendship with
avidity. They all had a wife, a sister, a daughter, whom they wished to
make the favorite sultana; and for this it was necessary to get the ear
of Lebel. Thus, under a libertine prince, the destinies of France were
at the mercy of a _valet de chambre_.

I should tell you, however, that I never had occasion but to speak well
of him, and that I have the utmost gratitude for all he did for me. The
attachment he testified on our first meeting has never been altered. He
gave me his protection as far as it was necessary for me, and when the
favor of the king had accorded to me a station, whence all the court
sought to hurl me, Lebel seconded me with all his power in my efforts
to preserve it. I will say, that it is to his vigilance that I owe the
overthrow of more than one conspiracy against me. He was a warm and
sincere friend, and not at all interested in the services he rendered.
He did a great deal of good, as well as harm, in private. I know poor
families whom he has assisted with his own purse, when he could obtain
nothing for them from the king, for Louis was only prodigal in his
pleasures.

However, we dined, and Lebel praised me incessantly to the very skies,
and that with so much warmth, that I was fearful at one time he would
fall in love with me himself, and would not resign me to another. Thank
heaven, Lebel was a faithful servant.

After dinner, when we left the table, Lebel paid me some compliments;
then pulling out his watch, he spoke of an appointment at the Marais,
and left without saying a word of seeing us again.

At this abrupt departure, comte Jean and I looked at each other with
astonishment. As for Morand, he was overjoyed.

"Well, comtesse," said he, "behold the number of your slaves increased
by an illustrious adorer. You have made a conquest of M. Lebel, and I am
certain he has gone away deeply smitten."

"I hope we shall see him again," said comte Jean.

"Do you doubt it?"

"Assure him," said I, "of the pleasure it will afford us to receive him
as he merits."

Several persons entered, and M. Morand, profiting by the bustle which
their entrance occasioned, approached me, and said, in a low tone,

"You are in possession of his heart, will you charge me with any message
to him?"

"M. Morand," was my reply, "what are you thinking of? A woman of my rank
throw herself at any person's head?"

"No, certainly not; but you can send him a kind word, or some
affectionate token."

"I could not think of it; M. Lebel appeared to me a most agreeable man,
and I shall be at all times delighted to see him."

Morand asked nothing more than this, and there our conversation ended.

Two days elapsed without being marked by any event. Comte Jean had
spent them with much anxiety. He was absent, when, on the third morning,
Henriette came hastily into my room. "Madame," she said, "the _valet de
chambre_ of the king is in the drawing-room, and inquires if you will
receive him."

At this news I was surprised and vexed. M. Lebel took me unawares; my
toilette was not begun. I gave a hasty glance at my mirror, "Let M.
Lebel come in"; and M. Lebel, who was on the heels of my maid, entered
instantly. After having saluted me, he said,

"It is only you, Madame, whom one might thus surprise. Your beauty needs
no ornament, your charms are decoration sufficient."

I replied to this compliment with (of course) much modesty, according
to custom. We entered into conversation, and I found that Lebel
really thought me the sister-in-law of comte Jean; and I remarked the
involuntary respect that attended even his familiarity. I left him in
his error, which was material to my interests. He talked to me some time
of my attractions, of the part which a female like myself might assume
in France. But fearing to compromise myself, I made no reply, but
preserved the reserve which my character imposed upon me. I am not
clever, my friend, I never could conduct an intrigue: I feared to speak
or do wrong; and whilst I kept a tranquil appearance, I was internally
agitated at the absence of comte Jean.

Fortune sent him to me. He was passing the street, when he saw at our
door a carriage with the royal livery. Lebel always used it when his
affairs did not demand a positive incognito. This equipage made him
suspect a visit from Lebel, and he came in opportunely to extricate me
from my embarrassment.

"Sir," said Lebel to him, when he entered, "here is the lady whose
extreme modesty refuses to listen to what I dare not thus explain to
her."

"Is it anything I may hear for her?" said the comte, with a smiling air.

"Yes, I am the ambassador of a mighty power: you are the minister
plenipotentiary of the lady, and with your leave, we will go into your
private room to discuss the articles of the secret treaty which I have
been charged to propose to you. What says madame?"

"I consent to anything that may come from such an ambassador."

Comte Jean instantly led him into another room, and when they were
alone, Lebel said to him, "Do you know that your sister-in-law is a most
fascinating creature? She has occupied my thoughts since I have known
her, and in my enthusiasm I could not help speaking of her in a certain
quarter. So highly have I eulogized her, that his majesty desires an
interview with her, that he may judge with his own eyes if I am an
appreciator of beauty."

At these words comte Jean felt a momentary agitation, but soon
recovering himself, he replied:

"I am exceedingly obliged to you, sir, for the favorable disposition
you have evinced towards the comtesse du Barry. She and I have as much
respect as love for his majesty; but my sister-in-law has not been
presented, and, consequently, I can scarcely see how she can be allowed
to pay her respects to his majesty."

"Do not let that disturb you; it is not intended that she shall go
and partake of the magnificence of Versailles, but be admitted to
an intimacy much more flattering. Would you refuse to grant him that
pleasure?"

"It would be a crime of _lese-majeste _," said the comte Jean, laughing,
"and my family have too much respect for their monarch. We should not be
content with a fugitive favor."

"You may expect everything from the charms of the comtesse; I am
certain they will have the utmost success; but for me, I can give you no
guarantee. You must run the chance."

"Your protection, however, is the only thing which encourages my
sister-in-law in this affair. But tell me when is this meeting to take
place?"

"Instantly. The king is impatient to see the comtesse and I have
promised that she will sup with him to-morrow evening in my apartment at
Versailles."

"How is she to be introduced to the king?"

"I am to entertain four of my friends."

"Who are they?"

"'First, the baron de Gonesse."

"Who is he?"

"The king himself."

"Well, who next?"

"The duc de Richelieu."

"Who else?"

"The marquis de Chauvelin."

"Well?"

"The duc de la Vauguyon."

"What, the devotee?"

"The hypocrite. But never mind: the main point is, that you must not
appear to recognize the king. Instruct your sister-in-law to this
effect."

"Certainly; if she must sin, she had better do so with some reason."

While these gentlemen were thus disposing of me, what was I doing?
Alone, in my room, I waited the result of their conference with mortal
impatience. The character I had to play was a superb one, and at the
moment was about to enter on the stage, I felt all the difficulties
of my part. I feared I should not succeed, but fail amid the insulting
hisses of the Versailles party.

My fears at once disappeared, and then I pictured myself sitting on
a throne, magnificently attired; my imagination wandered in all the
enchantments of greatness;--then, as if from remorse, I recalled my past
life. The former lover of Nicholas blushed before the future mistress of
Louis XV. A thousand different reflections crowded upon me, and mingled
in my brain. If to live is to think, I lived a whole age in one quarter
of an hour. At length I heard some doors open, a carriage rolled away,
and comte Jean entered my chamber.

"Victory!" cried he, embracing me with transport. "Victory! my dear
Jeanne, to-morrow you sup with the king."

On this information I turned pale, my strength forsook me, and I was
compelled to sit down, or rather to fall into a chair; for, according
to Jean Jacques Rousseau, my legs shook under me (_flageolaient_). This,
however, was the only movement of weakness which I betrayed. When I
recovered a little, the comte Jean told me the conversation he had had
with Lebel. I joked about the title of baron de Gonesse, and I promised
to treat the king as if ignorant of his incognito. One thing only made
me uneasy, and that was supping with the duc de Richelieu, who had
seen me before at madame de Lagarde's; but the idea that he would not
remember me gave me renewed courage.

On so important an occasion, comte Jean did not forget to repeat his
instructions over again. These are nearly his words, for I think I
learnt them by heart.

"Remember that it is on your first interview that your safety depends.
Let him learn, through you, those utter tendernesses which have been
sought for him in vain heretofore. He is like the monarch of old, who
was willing to pay the half of his crown for an unknown pleasure. Lebel
is wearied in seeking every week for new fruit. He is quite disposed
to serve you, and will second you in the best manner. You are about
to become the centre of attraction to all courtiers, and noble
_courtisanes_. You must expect that they will endeavor to cry you down,
because you will have carried off from them a gem to which every family
has its pretensions. You must at first stand firmly before the storm,
but afterward you will find all enlist themselves under your banner, who
have no wife, sister, nor daughter; that is, all who have no mistress to
offer to the king. You must attach these to you by place and favor: they
must be first thought of, and then you must think of yourself and me, my
dear girl."

"All this is well enough," I replied, "but as yet I am nothing."

"_Morbleu_! to-morrow you will be everything," cried comte Jean, with
his determined energy. "But we must think about this morrow. Make haste,
noble comtesse; go to all the milliners, seek what is elegant rather
than what is rich. Be as lovely, pleasing, and gay as possible; this is
the main point, and God will do all the rest."

He pronounced this blasphemy in a laughing tone, and I confess I could
not help joining in the laugh, and then hastened to comply with his
directions.



CHAPTER II


     A slight preface--Arrival at Versailles--_"La toilette"_--
     Portrait of the king--The duc de Richelieu--The marquis de
     Chauvelin--The duc de la Vauguyon-Supper with the king--The
     first night--The following day--The curiosity of comte Jean--
     Presents from the king--How disposed of

The chances against our succeeding in our enterprise were at least a
thousand to one. The sea upon which, trusting to the favorable influence
of my leading star, we were about to venture, was filled with rocks and
shoals which threatened the poor mariner who should direct his bark near
them. In the first place, I had to dread my obscure birth, as well as
the manner in which my life had been passed; and still more had I to
fear the indifferent reputation of comte Jean. There was more than
sufficient in all this to disturb a head far stronger than I could
boast. However, thanks to my thoughtfulness, no troublesome thoughts
interfered to break my rest on the night preceding a day so important
to me, and I slept as tranquilly as though upon waking I had no other
occupation for my time than a walk on the boulevards, or a drive to the
Bois de Boulogne.

Comte Jean, however, had passed a very different night; for once, the
whisperings of ambition had overcome even his natural indifference and
carelessness, and tired of tossing upon a sleepless pillow, he arose
at the first break of day, reproached me for slumbering so long, and
allowed me neither peace nor rest till I joined him dressed for our
journey. At length, we set out according to our agreement with Lebel; I
was closely muffled up in my large _caleche_--the carriage rolled along
till we reached Versailles, where we had for the last month engaged a
lodging, which might be useful to us in all events; we alighted, and
after vainly seeking a few moments' repose, proceeded on foot to Lebel,
in whose apartments we were to attire ourselves in a suitable manner.

"You are welcome," said the comte, "pray consider yourself as at home."

"I accept your augury," replied I, "it would be amusing enough to find
that my young prophet had predicted rightly."

"Well then," said my conductor, laughing, "I recommend you to manage a
slip on the staircase, it would be taking possession after the manner of
the ancients."

"No, no, I thank you," answered I; "no falls if you please, they are not
propitious in France."

Whilst we were thus speaking, we were crossing a long suite of chambers,
and reached the one at which we were expected. We knocked cautiously
at a door, which was opened to us with equal caution. Scarcely had we
entered, than Lebel came eagerly forward to receive us.

"Ah, madame!" cried he, "I began to fear you might not come, you have
been looked for with an impatience--"

"Which can hardly equal mine," interrupted I; "for you were prepared
for your visitor, whilst I have yet to learn who is the friend that so
kindly desires to see me."

"It is better it should be so," added Lebel; "do not seek either to
guess or discover more, than that you will here meet with some cheerful
society, friends of mine, who will sup at my house, but with whom
circumstances prevent my sitting down at table."

"How!" said I, with affected surprise, "not sup with us?"

"Even so," replied Lebel; and then added with a laugh, "_He_ and I sit
down to supper together! What an idea! No! you will find that just as
the guests are about to sit down at table, I shall suddenly be called
out of the room, and shall only return at the close of the repast."

All this was but of small import to me. Nevertheless, I affected to
regret the unavoidable absence of Lebel. In fact, I believe that the
first breath inspired at court is fraught with falsehood and deceit,
entirely destructive to every feeling of natural candor.

Lebel, with the most ceremonious gallantry, conducted me to a private
dressing-room, where I found several females waiting to assist me at
my toilet; I abandoned myself to their cares, which were, indeed, most
skilfully exercised in my behalf. They wrought wonders in my appearance,
bathing me after the Eastern fashion, adorning my hair and person, till
I issued from their hands blooming and beauteous as an houri.

When I returned to the room in which Lebel was expecting me, his
surprise was almost overpowering.

"You are, indeed," exclaimed he, "the new sun which is to rise upon
Versailles."

"Excellent!" cried I, laughing extravagantly, "but like the planet you
are pleased to compare me with, I must reserve my splendid rising till I
have obtained fresh powers from the aid of night."*

     * _Mais avant de me lever il faut que je me couche_, is the
     witty reply in the original, but which it is impossible to
     render fully and piquantly through the dilution of a
     translation.---tr.

The comte entered, and joined his congratulations upon the beauty of my
appearance; all at once the hasty, sound of a bell, violently pulled,
was heard.

"The object of your attack approaches," said Lebel to me, "it would be
as well to reconnoitre a little. Remember, not a word of his rank, no
cast down, timid looks at his sovereign power; no bending of knees, or
faltering of voice."

The advice thus given was useless. Comte Jean, who bore the reputation
of, at least, a man of much cool impudence, was, I am certain, more
deficient than myself in courage upon the occasion, and I verily
believe, asked himself several times whether he dared appear before his
prince with one whom he was falsely asserting to be his sister-in-law.
However these thoughts might or might not have disturbed him, we
proceeded onwards till we reached the apartment where our invited
friends were expecting us; and here I will, with the reader's
permission, digress awhile, in order to say a few introductory words
respecting the four personages with whom I had the honor of supping.

And first, Louis XVth, king of France (or as he was upon the present
occasion styled the baron de Gonesse), was one of those sentimental
egotists who believed he loved the whole world, his subjects, and his
family; while in reality, the sole engrossing object was _self_.
Gifted with many personal and intellectual endowments, which might have
disputed the palm with the most lively and engaging personages of the
court, he was yet devoured by ennui, and of this he was well aware,
but his mind was made up to meet this ennui, as one of the necessary
accompaniments of royalty. Devoid of taste in literary matters, he
despised all connected with the _belles-lettres_, and esteemed men only
in proportion to the number and richness of their armorial bearings. M.
de Voltaire ranked him beneath the lowest country-squire; and the very
mention of a man of letters was terrifying to his imagination from its
disturbing the current of his own ideas; he revelled in the plenitude
of power, yet felt dissatisfied with the mere title of king. He ardently
desired to signalize himself as the first general of the age, and
prevented from obtaining this (in his opinion) highest of honors,
entertained the utmost jealousy of Frederick II, and spoke with
undisguised spleen and ill-humor of the exploits of his brother of
Prussia.

The habit of commanding, and the prompt obedience he had ever met
with, had palled upon his mind, and impressed him with feelings of
indifference for all things which thus appeared so easily obtained;
and this satiety and consequent listlessness was by many construed into
melancholy of disposition. He disliked any appearance of opposition to
his will; not that he particularly resented the opposition itself, but
he knew his own weakness, and feared lest he should be compelled to make
a show of a firmness he was conscious of not possessing. For the clergy
he entertained the most superstitious veneration; and he feared God
because he had a still greater awe and dread of the devil. In the hands
of his confessor he confidently believed was lodged the absolute power
to confer on him unlimited license to commit any or every sin. He
greatly dreaded pamphlets, satires, epigrams, and the opinion of
posterity and yet his conduct was that of a man who scoffs at the
world's judgment. This hasty sketch may with safety be taken as the
portrait of Louis XV, although much might be added; yet for the present
I will confine myself to the outline of my picture, which I shall have
frequent occasion to retouch in the course of my journal; it is my
intention to present him in all possible lights before the reader, and
I flatter myself I shall produce a perfect resemblance of the man I seek
to depict. Let us now proceed to consider the duc de Richelieu.

This nobleman, when in his seventy-second year, had preserved, even in
so advanced an age, all his former pretensions to notice; his success in
so many love affairs, a success which he never could have merited, had
rendered him celebrated; he was now a superannuated coxcomb, a wearisome
and clumsy butterfly; when however, he could be brought to exercise his
sense by remembering that he was no longer young, he became fascinating
beyond idea, from the finished ease and grace of his manner, and the
polished and piquant style of his discourse; still I speak of him as
a mere man of outward show, for the duke's attainments were certainly
superficial, and he possessed more of the jargon of a man of letters
than the sound reality. Among other proofs of consummate ignorance he
was deficient even in orthography, and was fool enough to boast of
so disgraceful a fact, as though it conferred honor on him; perhaps,
indeed, he found that the easiest way of getting over the business.

He possessed a most ignoble turn of mind; all feelings of an elevated
nature were wanting within him. A bad son, an unkind husband, and a
worse father, he could scarcely be expected to become a steady friend.
All whom he feared, he hesitated not to trample under foot; and his
favorite maxim, which he has a hundred times repeated to me, was, that
"we should never hesitate to set our foot upon the necks of all those
who might in any way interfere with our projects--dead men [he would
further add] tell no tales!" There was one person, nevertheless, whom he
detested and flattered at the same time, and this was Voltaire, who well
repaid him in like coin. He called the duc de Richelieu, the tyrant of
the tennis-court* (_tripot_), and the duke returned the compliment
by invariably designating him "Scoundrel" and "Poetaster"; the only
difference was that the duc de Richelieu only treated the poet thus in
_sotto voce_, whilst M. de Voltaire sought not to conceal, either in his
writings or conversation, his candid opinion of the illustrious duke
and peer; and he might justly accuse the duke of ingratitude, for he,
no doubt, owed a considerable portion of the reputation he enjoyed as
a general, to the brilliant verses in which Voltaire had celebrated his
exploits.

     *La Comedie Francaise--tr.

The marquis de Chauvelin was equally skilful as a warrior and
diplomatist. Gentle, graceful, and witty, he joined to the most extreme
versatility of talent the utmost simplicity of character. Once known,
he could not fail of being valued and esteemed, and the king entertained
the most lively regard for him. The noble minded marquis was far from
taking advantage of his sovereign's favor, far from it; he neither
boasted of it, nor presumed upon it. This truly wonderful man died,
unhappily, too soon for me, for the king on whom he bestowed the sagest
counsels, and for foreign courts who knew and appreciated his worth.
I shall have occasion to speak of him hereafter; he had a brother, a
wicked little hump-backed creature, brave as Caesar, and a bitter enemy
to the Jesuits, whom he did not a little contribute to overturn in the
parliament of Paris, to which he belonged. The king detested this man
as much as he loved and cherished the brother, and that is saying not a
little.

The fourth guest was the duc de la Vauguyon, the really _perpetual_
tutor to the princes of France, for he had educated four successively.
He had displayed in the army both bravery and talent, but he was a
confirmed Jesuit, and conducted himself towards me upon the strictest
principles of his order. He will appear again on the scene hereafter,
but for the present I must lay him aside, whilst I return to my _entree_
to the saloon, which I was about to enter.

Immediately after Lebel had conducted me into it, he was called away,
and quitted us. The king rose and approached me, saluting me with the
most admirable gallantry, and addressing to me the most encouraging and
gratifying words. His gentle, yet polished manners, fine countenance,
noble air, and the free and unrestrained glances of admiration which
sparkled in his eyes, communicated to me a feeling of support and
confidence which effectually reassured me, and roused me from the
involuntary emotion I had felt at the moment when I first appeared in
his presence. The king addressed a few words to comte Jean, and then
regarded him steadily, as tho' he were trying to recall his features;
but his eye quickly turned on me again, upon whom he bestowed the most
intoxicating attention. Never was first sight more effective, and never
did a flame so rapidly increase as did the passion of my noble adorer.
Ere we had seated ourselves at the supper-table, he was ages gone in
love.

It would have provoked a smile from any countenance to perceive how
the respect and admiration with which the three courtiers regarded
me increased in proportion as the sentiments of the king towards me
betrayed themselves more and more. At first I had been considered as
a person of little or no importance. Soon, however, as their sagacious
eyes discovered the state of their master's mind, the air of familiarity
with which they had regarded me gave place to a more studied politeness,
which, in its turn, as matters progressed, was superseded by the most
delicate attention; and ere we rose from table these gentlemen watched
my looks with the most eager anxiety to obtain the honor of my notice,
and hopes of future patronage from one whom they easily foresaw would be
fully qualified to bestow it. Comte Jean observed all that was passing
in profound silence. As for me, I talked and laughed with perfect
freedom from restraint, and my frank unaffected mirth appeared to
enchant the king; I knew that he was weary of the nice formalities of
courtly beauty, and desired to refresh his eyes and ears with something
less refined, and I gratified him to his heart's wish. The conversation
became lively and animated, the merits of men of letters were discussed,
the French and Italian theatre passed in review before us, and finally,
we amused ourselves with anecdotes relative to the intrigues of court.
The baron de Gonesse related to us a circumstance which had just been
communicated to him by a county magistrate. I must here apprize the
reader that these administrators of justice were directed to collect all
the facts, scandalous, horrible, ridiculous, or piquant, which occurred
within their jurisdiction, in order that, being forwarded to the
king, they might aid in distracting his mind from the heavy cares of
government. Alas! how many strange and eventful things have I since
learned by similar channels.

The supper terminated, the king's friends remained some time conversing
with us. Whilst these noblemen were busily celebrating my praises in
words sufficiently loud to reach the king's ear, the baron de Gonesse,
standing by my side, was prosecuting his suit in the most ardent terms.
I received his overtures with becoming grace and modesty. As I have
before said, the exterior of the king was very prepossessing, and what
he wanted in youth, he made up by all the mature graces of dignified
royalty. At last Lebel appeared, and made me a sign to rise from my
seat. Up to this period nothing had arisen to betray the incognito of
the august monarch, and in order to keep up my pretended ignorance
of his grandeur, I quitted the apartment with little ceremony. Lebel
conducted me to an adjoining chamber, furnished with the utmost
magnificence. When we were seated, he turned to the comte Jean, who had
followed us, and said, "It rests with yourself whether you will return
to Paris, or remain at Versailles. But as for _milady_, who seems
much fatigued, she will, we trust, honor us by accepting a bed at the
castle."

My self-created brother-in-law understood as well as I did the
significance of these words, and clearly read in their import how far
I had attracted the favor of the king. In order to have rendered the
impression more lasting, we could have wished that matters had been less
precipitated, but we were under a roof where everything yielded to the
caprices of its master, and resignation to his will became a matter
of course. And here I trust I may be pardoned if I pass over certain
details which could not, at this lapse of time, interest or amuse any
one; besides, altho' I have found no difficulty in reciting former
events of my life, I find my pen more prudish and coy than were my ears
or mouth. All I shall say is, that the following day, as soon as I was
left alone in my chamber, Lebel entered, and prostrating himself at the
side of my bed,--

"Madame la comtesse," said he, "is queen and mistress here. Not only has
your noble lover failed to communicate to me the usual signal of disgust
or dislike, but he has spoken of you to me in the most favorable light,
declaring, that, for the first time in his life, he felt the influence
of a true and sincere affection; for this reason he desired I would not
convey to you the contents of this casket, as originally intended."

"And what does it contain?" asked I, with childish eagerness.

"Oh, a trifle unworthy of her who is now the mistress of his warmest
love; only a purse containing a hundred louis, and a suit of emeralds
worth a similar sum. He bade me say it might have served to recompense a
mere fleeting fancy, but that it is unworthy of your charms, nor can he
insult you by the offer of it."

"Will he then see me again?" inquired I.

"To-morrow evening, if agreeable to you."

"Only say that his wishes are mine."

"Would you wish to see the comte Jean before you rise? He has been
waiting with the utmost impatience to see you since seven o'clock this
morning."

"Let him come in."

The comte entered, and I saw by the triumphant joy painted on his face,
that Lebel had told him of propitious state of things. He ran up to me
with outstretched arms, congratulating me upon my success, and putting
at the same time several questions, to which, either from mere womanly
caprice, or presuming upon my recent elevation to the character of prime
favorite, I refused to reply.

My folly drew down on me his severe anger, and several oaths escaped his
lips, which, echoed back by walls so unused to similar violence, struck
Lebel with terror. That faithful ally placed his hand over his mouth,
imploring of him to recollect himself, and the place he was in. As for
me, dreading some foolish burst of his impetuosity, I tried some of my
sweetest smiles, and inviting him to sit beside me, related to him and
Lebel those particulars which my pen refuses to retrace. Amongst other
things, I told them I had said to the king, that I had perfectly known
who he was all the preceding evening when supping with him, and that
he had the simplicity to say, "he was surprised I had not appeared more
embarrassed in his presence."

Our conversation terminated, I wished to return to Paris, and I was,
without further hindrance, allowed to depart. Scarcely had I arrived
there an hour, than I received from his majesty a magnificent diamond
agraffe, worth at least 60,000 francs, and bank notes to the amount of
200,000 livres.

Comte Jean and myself were well nigh stupefied with astonishment at the
sight of such treasures; to us, who had never in our lives possessed
such sums, they appeared inexhaustible. My brother-in-law divided them
into two equal portions, one of which he put into his pocket, and the
other into my _escritoire_. With this arrangement I did not interfere;
nothing seemed to me more simple than that he should satisfy his need
out of my superfluity. I bestowed two thousand crowns upon Henriette,
and expended in the course of the day at least a quarter of my riches
in trifles, as unnecessary as useless; and all this without once
remembering that as I owed my present abundance to a momentary
inclination on the part of the king, so the turn of an hour, or a
fresh fancy on the part of my munificent adorer, might reduce me to the
unprovided state in which I had been so lately. That evening was passed
_tete-a-tete_ with comte Jean; he thought, as I did, that the foundation
of our treasure was firm as a rock, and he gave me many counsels for the
future which I promised to observe; for indeed it was to my own interest
to do so. Upon how many follies did we then debate, which, but a few
days afterwards we found practicable. The different ministers passed in
review before us; some we determined upon retaining, whilst others were
dismissed, and already I began in idea to act with sovereign power over
these illustrious personages, amongst whom I anticipated shortly playing
so important a part. "After all," said I, "the world is but an amusing
theatre, and I see no reason why a pretty woman should not play a
principal part in it."



CHAPTER III


     The king's message--Letter from the countess--A second
     supper at Versailles--The duc d'Ayen--A short account of M.
     de Fleury--The duc de Duras--Conversation with the king--The
     next day--A visit from the duc de Richelieu--Visit from the
     duc de la Vauguyon--Visit from comte Jean--Visit from the
     king--A third supper--Favor

Early the following day I received a message from the king, accompanied
with a bouquet of flowers tied round with a string of diamonds. A short
letter was annexed to this splendid gift, which I would transcribe here,
had it not been taken from me with many others. My reply, which I wrote
upon the spur of the moment, was concise, and, as I preserved the rough
copy, under the impression of its being one day useful, I can give the
reader the exact words.

"The billet traced by your noble hands, renders me the happiest of
women. My joy is beyond description. Thanks, monsieur le Baron, for your
charming flowers. Alas! they will be faded and withered by to-morrow,
but not so fleeting and short-lived are the sentiments with which you
have inspired me. Believe me, the desire you express to see me again
is entirely mutual; and in the impatience with which you await our next
interview, I read but my own sentiments. The ardor with which you long
to embrace me, is fully equalled by the affection which leads me to
desire no gratification greater than that of passing my whole life in
your society. Adieu, monsieur le baron; you have forbidden my addressing
you as your rank and my respect would have me, I will therefore content
myself with assuring you of the ardent affection of the

"COMTESSE Du Barry."

The signature I adopted was a bold piece of falsehood, but it was too
late to recede; besides, I was addressing myself in my letter, not to
the king, but to the baron de Gonesse; for Louis, by I know not what
unaccountable caprice, seemed to wish to preserve his incognito. I have
since learned that Francis I assumed the same name, altho' upon a very
different occasion. Replying to a letter from Charles V, in which that
emperor had given himself a long string of high sounding titles, he
contented himself with simply signing his letter, "_Francois, baron de
Gonesse._" Louis XV was very fond of borrowed appellations. Unlike the
vanity so common to mankind, of seeking to set off their pretensions
by assumed titles, it is the pleasure of royalty to descend to a lower
grade in society when concealment becomes desirable, either from policy
or pleasure; and Louis sought in the familiarity in which a plain baron
might safely indulge, a relief from the ennui attendant upon the rigid
etiquette of a regal state. I had omitted in my letter to the baron,
to remind him that we were to meet that very evening, but that did not
prevent my repairing to Versailles punctually at the appointed hour. I
was conducted into the same apartment as before, where I found the same
females who had then assisted at my toilette again prepared to lend
their aid; and from this moment I had a regular establishment of
attendants appointed for my use.

The moment the king was informed of my arrival, unable to restrain his
impatience, he hastened to me to assist at my dressing table, and he
continued standing beside me so long as the operation lasted; I felt
greatly embarrassed, not knowing whether I durst take the liberty of
requesting him to be seated. However, my silence on the subject was
greatly admired, and ascribed to my perfect acquaintance with polished
life, when in reality it originated from mere timidity. My triumph was
complete; the monarch smiled at and admired every word as it fell from
my lips, kissed my hands, and played with the curls of my long hair,
sportively twisting his fingers amidst my flowing ringlets with all
the vivacity of a lover of twenty. The company upon this evening was
different from that of the former occasion, consisting of the duc de
Duras, first gentleman of the bedchamber, and the duc d'Ayen, who had
the reputation of being a great wit; however, in my opinion, he was
much more deserving the character of a real fiend; his very breath
was poisonous, and his touch venomous as the bite of an adder. I well
remember what M. de Fleury said of him to the king in my presence.
"Sire," said he, "the thing I most dread in the world next to a bite
from M. d'Ayen, is the bite of a mad dog." For my own part, I did not
in the end look upon him with less terror, and well he paid me for my
fears. Upon one occasion, when the king was speaking of me to him, he
said, "I am well aware that I succeed St. Foix."

"Yes, sire"; replied the duke, "in the same manner as your majesty
succeeds Pharamond!"

I never forgave him those words, dictated by a fiendish malice. However,
upon the evening of my first introduction to him, he behaved to me with
the most marked politeness. I was then an object of no consequence to
his interests, and his vision had not yet revealed to him the height I
was destined to attain. He looked upon me but as one of those meteors
which sparkled and shone in the castle at Versailles for twenty-four
hours, and sank to rise no more.

The duc de Duras was not an ill-disposed person, but inconceivably
stupid; indeed, wit was by no means a family inheritance. Both father
and son, good sort of people in other respects, were for ever saying or
doing some good thing in support of their reputation for stupidity at
court. One day the king quite jokingly inquired of the duc de Duras,
what was done with the old moons. "Upon my word, sire," replied he,
"I can give you no idea, never having seen, but with your majesty's
permission, I will endeavor to learn from M. de Cassini*!" To such a
pitch did the poor man's simplicity extend. Both father and son were
nominated to attend the king of Denmark, when on his road to visit
France. The king observed to a person who repeated it to me: "The French
are generally styled a clever, witty nation; I cannot say I should ever
have been able to discover it, had I been tempted to form my opinion
from the specimen they have sent me."

 *The royal astronomer--Gutenberg ed.

As far as I am concerned, after saying so many unfavorable things of the
Messrs. de Duras, I must do them the justice to say, that their conduct
towards me was everything that could be desired. I was always glad to
see them; it gave my own imagination a sort of sedative dose to converse
with these two simple-minded beings, whose interests I was always ready
to promote by every means in my power, and I trust the memory of what I
have done will be long remembered by the noble house of Duras.

This supper did not pass off so gaily as the former one. The duc de
Duras spoke as little as possible, in the dread of making some unlucky
speech, and the duc d'Ayen sat devouring the spleen he could not
give vent to, and meditating fresh objects upon whom to exercise his
malignity; he vainly endeavored to lead me on to make some ridiculous
observation, but without success; happily for him, the king did not
perceive his aim. My royal lover was indeed so entirely engrossed by me,
that he lost all the duke's manoeuvres; his transports appeared too much
for his senses to sustain, and he vowed that I should never quit him
more, but remain to be elevated by his power to the first place at
court. At the monarch's sign, the two guests withdrew.

When the duc d'Ayen quitted the room, "That nobleman is by no means to
my taste," said I to the king, "he has the air of a spy, who wishes me
no good."

"Do you really think so, my lovely comtesse?"

"I am certain of it; and I already shudder at the bare anticipation of
an enemy having access to your majesty's ear."

"Reassure yourself," said the king, with the utmost tenderness, "in me
you have a sure defender, who will never forsake you; look upon me from
this minute as your natural protector, and woe to him on whose head your
displeasure shall fall."

After this conversation the king and myself retired to rest, and when he
quitted me in the morning, he entreated me not to return to Paris, but
to give him my company for a whole week. Lebel made his appearance to
beg I would consider myself mistress of the apartments I occupied, and
that he had received orders to provide me with an establishment upon the
most handsome scale.

That very day Henriette, whom I had sent for, and instituted as my head
waiting-woman, informed me, that an old gentleman, attired as tho' for a
grand gala, but who refused to send in his name, begged to be permitted
to pay his respects. I bade her admit him; it was the duc de Richelieu.

"Madame la comtesse," said he, bowing low, "I come to complain of your
want of condescension; unless, indeed, your memory has been at fault.
Was it possible that when I had the honor of supping with you the other
night, you did not recollect your former old friend?"

"If, indeed, my forgetfulness were a fault, monsieur le marechal, it
was one in which you bore an equal share; you were not more forward than
myself in displaying marks of recognition."

"That arose only from the dazzling increase of your beauty. You were but
a nymph when last my eyes had beheld you, and now you are matured into a
goddess."

The duke then made some slight allusion to the family of madame Lagarde,
but guessing with his admirable tact, that such reminiscences could not
be particularly agreeable to me, he dexterously turned the conversation,
by requesting permission to present to me his nephew, the duc
d'Aiguillon, that he might leave a worthy substitute and champion near
the king when state affairs called him into Gascony; he craved my kind
offices to obtain the intimate acquaintance of comte Jean. They
were subsequently at daggers drawn with each other, but this haughty
overbearing lord conducted himself at first with the most abject
servility. The third favor he had to solicit was that I would name him
to the king as frequently as opportunities occurred to form one of our
supper parties. All this I engaged to do, nor indeed could I refuse
after the violent protestations of friendship he made me.

"You will, ere long," said he, "see the whole court at your feet, but
beware of considering them all as your friends; have a care, above all,
of the duchesse de Grammont. She has been long endeavoring to obtain the
king's affections, and she will see with hatred and fury another more
worthy engrossing the place she has so vainly contended for; she and
her impertinent brother will call in the aid of the devil himself to
dispossess you of your elevated seat; you are lost if you do not twist
both their necks."

"How, monsieur le marechal, shall I mark my career by a murder?"

"You take me too literally; I only mean that in your place I would not
be at the trouble of keeping any terms with them."

"Ah, monsieur le duc, I understand you now; yet it seems a bad augury to
have to begin my reign by cabals and intrigues."

"Alas! my fair comtesse, you are too good, too guileless for a court
life; between ourselves we are all hypocrites more or less; mistrust
every one, even those make the finest protestations."

"In that case the first object of my suspicion would be my old and
esteemed friend the marechal de Richelieu."

"Ah, madame! this is not fair usage, thus to turn my weapons against
myself, and to fight me with my own arms."

Upon this the duke quitted me, and scarcely had he left the room, when
the duc la Vauguyon entered. This gentleman offered me no advice; he
contented himself by styling the Jesuits his "very good friends," and
continually turning the conversation upon their merits. I allowed him
to express his attachment, without interruption, for these disagreeable
men, whom I determined in my own mind to have nothing to do with,
recollecting all I had heard of their dislike to our sex. After an hour
passed in amusing talk, the duc de la Vauguyon retired, well pleased
with his visit, and his place was immediately supplied by comte Jean,
to whom I communicated all that had passed between my late visitors and
myself.

"For heaven's sake," said he, "let us not be the dupes of these great
lords; before we range ourselves under the banners of either of them let
us secure our own footing; let us wait till you are presented."

"But, my good friend, I must be a married lady to obtain that honor."

"And so you will be shortly, do not be uneasy about that. I have written
to my brother William to set out without delay for Paris. Your swain
will be easily induced to marry you. What do you think of that?"

I gave comte Jean to comprehend, by signs, that I left my destiny in his
hands, and he kissed my hands and withdrew. The king managed to steal a
few minutes to converse with me.

"You did not intrust me, my sweet friend," said he, "with the
circumstance of your having formerly known the duc de Richelieu; less
reserved on the subject than you were, he told me he had seen you at the
house of madame Lagarde, who considered you one of her dearest friends."

"Sire," replied I, "I was too much occupied with your majesty, to think
of any other person in the world."

My answer delighted him, he looked at me in the most gracious manner.

"You would almost persuade me that you love me," said he, smiling.

"Indeed, your majesty," said I, "I only pray that you desire the
continuance of my affection."

"In that case," replied he, kissing my hand with fervor, "you do but
partake of my tenderness for you."

These words flattered my vanity, and here I must declare that if I never
felt for the king that violent attachment which is termed love, I ever
entertained for him the warmest esteem. He was so attentive, so kind to
me, that I must have been a monster of ingratitude could I have looked
upon him with indifference.

Our supper on this night was again lively as the first had been. The
duc de Richelieu entertained us with several amusing anecdotes; not that
they contained any thing very piquant, but the duke related them well,
and we were all in the humor to be pleased, and laughed heartily at
what he said. Comte Jean, whose eye constantly followed me, appeared
perfectly satisfied with all I said or did. As for the king, he seemed
enchanted with me, and seemed wholly occupied in watching my looks, that
he might anticipate my wants. After supper, in the _tete-a-tete_
which followed, he explained himself in terms which left me no doubt how
securely my empire over him was established. Had he been less explicit
on the subject, the flattering marks of favor, and the adulatory
compliments I received from all on the following day, would well have
assured me of it. I was no longer an obscure and friendless individual,
but the beloved mistress of the king; I was, to use the expression of
Lebel, a new sun which had arisen to illumine horizon of Versailles.
I could no longer doubt my power when I saw noble personages present
themselves to solicit the most servile employments about my person.
Amongst others, I might instance a certain lady de St. Benoit, who
continued first lady of my chamber, during the whole time of my
regency;--my justly-valued Henriette being contented to take the second
place of honor.



CHAPTER IV


     The duc d'Aiguillon--The duc de Fronsac--The duchesse de
     Grammont--The meeting--Sharp words on both sides--The duc de
     Choiseul--Mesdames d'Aiguillon--Letter from the duc
     d'Aiguillon--Reply of madame du Barry--Mademoiselle Guimard--
     The prince de Soubise--Explanation--The Rohans--Madame de
     Marsan--Court friendships

The duc de Richelieu, who was in haste to go to Guienne, lost no time in
presenting to me the duc d'Aiguillon. He was not young, but handsome and
well made, with much amiability and great courage. A sincere friend, no
consideration could weaken his regard; an adversary to be dreaded, no
obstacle could repress his boldness. His enemies--and amongst them
he included the whole magistracy--his enemies, I say, have used him
shamefully, but he treated them too ill for them to be believed in
any thing they say of him. If he were ambitious, he had the excuse of
superior merit, and if he showed himself too severe in one particular,
it proceeded from an energy of mind which did not allow him to have more
pity for others than they had for him. Do not, my friend, think that the
attachment I had for him can transport me beyond just limits. Since he
is in his grave, my illusions, if I had any, have dissipated. I only
give to my deceased friends the tribute due to them--truth and tears.
But really, without thinking of it, I am attributing to myself these
virtues without necessity, forgetting that you are not one of those who
would fain render me as black as possible in the eyes of posterity.

In proportion as the first sight of the uncle had prejudiced me against
him, so much more did it propitiate me towards the nephew. I saw in him
a generous heart, and a genius capable of lofty actions which you would
vainly have sought for in the marechal de Richelieu. No doubt at the
beginning of our _liaison_ the duc d'Aiguillon only saw in me a woman
who could be useful to his projects and plans; but soon his heart joined
the alliance, and a devotion of calculation was succeeded by a vehement
passion, of which I was justly proud, as it subdued to my chains the
most accomplished of courtiers.

Our first interview was lively. The marechal and he supported the
conversation with much gaiety. M. de Richelieu, as I have already told
you, had neither wit nor information, but possessed that ease of the
first circles, those manners of high breeding, those courtly graces,
which often surpass wit and information.

"My nephew," said he to the duke, "madame can do much for us, but we
must first do something for her. Without support, without friends, she
will be lost at Versailles; let us be her partisans if she will allow
it, and let her youth have the benefit of our experience."

The tone in which the duc d'Aiguillon replied delighted me. He said he
was but too happy to serve me, and begged me to rely on him as I would
on myself.

"But," he continued, "but we have to struggle with a powerful party. The
duchesse de Grammont and her brother are not the persons to give up the
field without striking a blow. But, madame, by the assistance of your
happy and lovely star, I will enter the lists with pleasure, and if a
glance of your eyes will recompense a conqueror, I shall be he."

"Oh," exclaimed the duke, "my nephew's a second Amadis in gallantry, and
of undaunted courage. You will be satisfied with him, madame, much more
than with my son, who only resembles the family in his defects."

The duc de Fronsac was justly hated by his father; he was what is called
a decided scamp, without one redeeming point or virtue. Dissipated
without agreeableness, a courtier without address, a soldier without
courage, he thoroughly deserved his bad reputation. He was not hated,
because hatred implies a species of honor, but he was universally
despised. His father hated him; he hated his father. The reciprocity was
edifying. I have often seen the duc de Fronsac, and always with disgust.
He had incurred the extremity of punishment; when trying to carry off a
butcher's daughter, he rendered himself guilty of the triple crimes of
arson, rape, and robbery. This was the most splendid deed of his life,
at least his father said so, the only one in which he had shown--guess
what for, my friend, I will not pen the cynical word made use of by his
father. It must be confessed that we sometimes kept very bad company at
Versailles. The king, who abhorred degrading actions, did not like
the duc de Fronsac, but was full of kindly feeling towards the duc
d'Aiguillon. The latter experienced the extent of his favor in his
long and obstinate struggle with the parliament of Bretagne. It must be
owned, that if he gained the victory at court, he decidedly lost it in
the city, and I was publicly insulted on this account in the most brutal
manner. However, the friendship which his first interview inspired me
with, I have always preserved unaltered.

The week glided away, and each day my fortune seemed more fully assured.
The love of the king increased, he heaped presents on me perpetually,
and seemed to think he never could do enough for me. The bounties of
Louis XV were known, and instantly aroused against me the two enemies
with whom I had been threatened--the duc de Choiseul and the duchesse de
Grammont, his sister. I must say, however, that, at first, the brother
contented himself with despising me, but the duchesse was furious; I had
offended her feminine self-love, and she could not forgive me. I have
told you that she obtained possession of the king by stratagem. This is
fact. She was in a place of concealment during a regal debauch, and when
Louis left the table, with his head heated by wine, she awaited him in
his bed to commit a sort of violence on him. What curious ambition! As
soon as this noble lady learned my position, she was desirous of knowing
who I was, and I have been told since all the measures she took to learn
this. She did not confine her search to the circle of Versailles, but
hastened to prosecute her inquiries in Paris with M. de Sartines. The
lieutenant of police not suspecting the favor that awaited me, as well
as that which I already enjoyed, and on the other hand persuaded of that
of the Choiseul family, set all his bloodhounds on my traces. They did
not fail to bring him back a thousand horrible tales about me, with
which he gratified the duchesse, who, thinking thereby to do me a severe
injury, spread in the chateau a multitude of prejudicial tales against
me, hoping that they would reach the ears of the king and disgust him
with his amour. It was at this juncture that appeared in the "_Nouvelles
a la Main_" those infamous articles, collected in what they call the
Collection of Bachaumont. From the same source proceeded the songs _a la
Bourbonnaise_ which filled Paris, and were sung about everywhere. These
scandals produced no other effect than increasing the attachment which
the king had for me, and to diminish that which he felt for the duc de
Choiseul.

Passion never reasons; if it had common sense, it would perceive that it
cannot disgust a lover by vilifying his mistress, but, on the contrary,
interests his self-love in supporting her. Thus all these intrigues
scathed me not; I did not mention to my counsellor comte Jean an insult
which I met with in the park at Versailles from madame de Grammont. I
did not tell it to the king, not wishing to create any disturbance
at court. I avenged myself by myself, and think I conducted myself
remarkably well in this adventure, which was as follows:

I was walking in the garden with Henriette, who had given me her arm;
it was early in the morning, and the walks appeared solitary. We walked
towards towards the side of the Ile d'Amour, when we heard the steps of
two persons who came behind us. Henriette turned her head and then said
to me, "Here are mesdames de Brionne and de Grammont." I knew the latter
but very slightly, and the former not at all. Certainly she could not
have been there by chance; they knew I should be there, and wished to
see me closely. Not suspecting what was to follow, I was delighted at
the rencontre. They passed us with head erect, haughty air; looked at
me with a disdainful stare, laughed rudely and walked away. Altho' such
behavior offended me, it did not put me out of humor; I thought it very
natural for madame de Grammont to be irritated against me. Henriette had
less magnanimity. She repeated so often how impertinent it was thus to
insult a female honored by the bounties of the king, and so far excited
my feelings, that instead of returning as prudence suggested, I followed
the steps of these ladies. I did not proceed far before I rejoined
them; they were seated on a bench, awaiting my arrival as it appeared.
I passed close to them, and at that moment the duchesse de Grammont,
raising her voice, said,

"It must be a profitable business to sleep with every body."

I was excessively nettled, and instantly retorted, "At least I cannot
be accused of making a forcible entry into any person's bed." The arrow
went to the mark and penetrated deeply. The whole countenance of the
duchesse turned pale, except her lips, which became blue. She would have
said something foolish, but madame de Brionne, more cool because touched
less nearly, placed her hand over her companion's mouth. I in my turn
walked away with Henriette, laughing till tears came into my eyes at
this pleasing victory.

The duchesse de Grammont, who had no further inclination to laugh, told
the whole to her brother. He, who loved her excessively, too much so
perhaps, reprimanded her, nevertheless, and pointed out to her the
disadvantage in an open struggle with me. Madame de Brionne was enjoined
to secrecy, but that did not prevent her from confiding the affair to
the dowager duchesse d'Aiguillon.

This latter was a lady of most superior merit, uniting to much wit more
solid acquirements. She spoke English like a native. Her death, which
happened in 1772, was a great misfortune to her son, to whom she
gave the most excellent counsel. She told my adventure to her
daughter-in-law, who, excessively ambitious, saw, without any pain,
the increasing attachment of her husband for me. I must tell you, in a
parenthesis, that I always lived on the best terms with her, and that,
in my disgrace, her friendship did not weaken. I must do her this
justice. All my _faithful friends_ have not been equally faithful
towards me.

These two ladies knowing this occurrence, the duc d'Aiguillon was not
long kept in ignorance that something had happened. He came in haste to
see me, and inquired what it was. But he asked in vain, I would not tell
him. My secrecy hurt him, and on his return home he wrote to me. As
I have great pleasure in telling you all that recalls this amiable
gentleman to my mind, I will transcribe his letter, which will give you
an opportunity of judging of the turn of his mind.

_I am very unhappy, madame. I had flattered myself with having obtained
your confidence, but the obstinate silence which you have kept with
me has cruelly informed me of my mistake. Allow the deep interest with
which you have inspired me to offer a suggestion. You know nothing of
forms, you are unacquainted with our usages: you require a friend who
shall direct and counsel you. Why should you not select a man entirely
devoted to you, and as equally so to the king, the king whose affections
you possess--and who could refuse them to you? I pause. Nothing is more
dangerous than to use a pen where we have a heart overflowing like mine.
Be more gracious towards me, I ask it of you in charity, and take no
pleasure in driving me to twofold desperation. Adieu, madame, etc._

"Signed, the Duc D'A."

I read and read again this epistle: it delighted me from beginning to
end. I found in it a depth of passion which did not displease me: I
perfectly comprehended the obscurity of the latter phrase. I needed
a sort of mentor superior to comte Jean, and I preferred the duc
d'Aiguillon to any other, because he pleased me. This feeling decided
me, and I replied to him in these terms:--

"You are wrong, monsieur, to be annoyed, and to think that I am not
disposed to grant you my confidence. It seems to me that I cannot place
myself in better hands. However, we do not know each other well enough
for me to repose in you at once: see me frequently, and then, with the
habit of being in your company, I will allow myself to glide quietly
into that state of confidence which you desire. Yes, I am indeed a
stranger to all that passes around me; my only support is the protection
with which the king honors me. That is all-powerful, but I will not
employ it unseasonably or improperly. I know that I need the counsels
of an honorable, prudent, and well-informed man. I accept, therefore, of
yours; I even ask them from you, if your friendship go along with them.
Adieu, monsieur. My regards are due to your uncle, the marechal, the
first time you write to him."

This letter filled the duc d'Aiguillon with joy. Some days afterwards,
the prince de Soubise, who also wished to give me his advice, did not
attain the same success. It must be owned, that, for a man of the world,
he went about it in a very clumsy way. He committed the extreme error of
selecting mademoiselle Guimard as mediatrix between himself and me. This
lady came to me on the strength of our former acquaintance; she had so
little sense as not to perceive the immense distance between us which
a few days had caused, and that the opera-dancer kept by the prince de
Soubise could have no relation with the favorite of the king of France.
I endeavored, in vain, to make her perceive it, without mortifying her
too much. She always called me her dear friend, and fairly slaughtered
me with saying that _her_ prince would protect me. It was singular
for her to speak thus to me; to me from whom _her_ prince solicited
protection. She did not confine herself to this, she even insinuated to
me that I should be a gainer in some way. I laughed outright at this,
and said to the _valet de chambre_, who was stationed at the door, "Call
mademoiselle's servants." This annoyed her excessively; all the muscles
of her face were contracted with rage; but she restrained her wrath,
saluted me with an assumed respect, and went away, after having so
worthily acquitted herself of her foolish embassy.

She had quitted me for an hour, when I received a letter from him who
had sent her. The prince de Soubise begged me to grant him an interview,
in which he could enter into an explanation. I replied that I would
receive him, and he came the same day.

"I am much pained, madame," said he, on entering, "that mademoiselle
Guimard has communicated with so little address what I wished to say to
you."

"Prince, I think you would have done better to have been the bearer of
your own message. You know my station here, and would not have ridiculed
me as she has done."

M. de Soubise, much puzzled to know what she had said, asked me the
question.

"Why," I replied, "she said, that if I would follow your counsels, you
would pay me for my condescension."

"Ah! madame," he exclaimed, "she has completely murdered me. I only
charged her to offer my services to you, and throw myself at your feet,
as I do now."

"Rise, prince, I do not accuse you of such folly, and promise not to
mention it: it is necessary, however, that you should know I have but
one part to play here, that of pleasing the king. Any other character
will not suit me. Honor me with your friendship, and accept mine in
return. I cannot, must not, have any other union with you."

Thus terminated this interview; it did not suit me to give the prince
de Soubise any hopes. He and all the Rohans would have lived on it; they
would have turned my confidence to their gain, and as they were for the
most part sharpers, or something akin to it, my name would soon have
been mixed up with some dirty transaction. His family was a hydra of
avarice, and would alone have swallowed up all the wealth of France. If
the king had taken one of the Rohan family for his mistress, I believe
that the finance department would not have sufficed for one year's
expenditure of this prodigal family. I had no objection to the prince de
Soubise coming to supper with me, but I did not feel myself disposed to
give him any control over my mind. I should have been ill-guided by a
man who had no government of himself.

If M, de Soubise did not depart satisfied, madame de Marsan, his
relative, to whom he related the bad success of his attempt, was not
more so. She was a woman to have governed a kingdom, had she been
allowed to do so. There was in her woman's head a capacity superior to
that of all the men of her family. She had a great deal of ambition, and
all her actions were the results of a premeditated plan. She would have
ruled the king, the princes, the princesses, favorites, mistresses, the
court, the city, the parliaments, and the army! Nothing would have been
impossible to her; she was adequate to any thing. Circumstances did not
give her the opportunity of displaying her genius. With great talents
and keen perception, she was reduced to the government of her own family
alone; that was but a trifling matter! In spite of her discontent,
madame de Marsan preserved a sort of neutrality towards me. She allowed
all sorts of ill to be spoken of me without ever repressing a word.
She was then mute and motionless. She saw me torn to pieces without
any emotion. However, when we were together she tried to cajole me in a
thousand ways, all the time detesting me in her heart; and I, who could
scarcely endure the sight of her, paid her a like number of little
attentions. Thus surrounded by hypocrites, I became one myself. We learn
to howl in the society of wolves.



CHAPTER V


     The duc de la Vauguyon and the comtesse du Barry--The
     marquis de Chauvelin and the comtesse--M. de Montbarrey and
     the comtesse--Intrigues--Lebel--Arrival of the du Barry
     family--The comte d'Hargicourt--The demoiselles du Barry--
     Marriage of the comtesse--The marquis de Bonrepos--
     Correspondences--The broken glass

The prince de Soubise was not the only person who wished to act in the
capacity of mentor to me. M. the duc de la Vauguyon attempted also to
be the guide of my youth. This nobleman was too much of a Jesuit not to
have a nose of prodigiously fine scent. He perceived that the wind was
in my favor, and approached me in consequence. I have mentioned to
you his first visit, and he made me a second a few days afterwards.
He appeared very affable, very conciliating, and insisted particularly
several times, and that without any apparent motive, that the king,
not being now engaged in the ties of wedlock, he should choose some
agreeable companion, and assuredly could not do better than select
me. The day after this visit, early in the morning, the duke sent me a
splendid bouquet, a homage which he afterwards repeated, and then called
on me a third time.

During this visit after a conversation on the embarrassments of an
introduction at Versailles, he proposed that I should avoid them.

"You cannot conceal from yourself," he said, "how powerful will be the
cabal against you; and, without including the Choiseuls, you will have
especially to fear the pious party, who will only see in your intimacy
with the king, allow me to say, a crying scandal, and one not profitable
for religion."

"If the pious party unite with those who are not so to destroy me," I
rejoined, laughing, "I shall have all France against me."

"No; but perhaps all the chateau. But there is a way of averting the
storm. Attach yourself to the party of honest men who have been so
greatly calumniated--the Jesuits. Philosophy, supported by the duc de
Choiseul, has repressed them; but the high clergy and the _mesdames
royales_ are attached strongly to them, and you would interest them in
your fortune by favoring these worthy fathers."

"What! monsieur le duc," cried I, "will _messeigneurs_ the clergy of
France, and _mesdames royales_ and their suite be favorable to me, if I
use my influence with the king in espousing the cause of the society of
Jesus?"

"Certainly, madame, and I am authorized to promise you. I give you my
word for this. Endeavor to re-establish the order, and there will not be
one of us but will be zealous in supporting you."

"I certainly am desirous of pleasing your friends; but I can see that,
from the first moment of my appearance at court, I shall be at open war
with the Choiseuls and the parliaments."

"What matters it? I confess that the victory will not be easy at first,
but there is no need to exaggerate the difficulties. It is true that the
king has esteem for the duc de Choiseul, but he has much affection for
you, which avails much more.

"As for the parliaments, he hates them, and for many years has been
desirous of ridding himself of them entirely, and he will effect this by
the help of God and your interference."

"This will be hard work for one so weak as I am."

"Oh, you are sufficiently powerful, I assure you. Only confide in me,
the intermediary between you and my friends, let me guide you, and I
will steer to the right port. What do you think of this, madame?"

"Oh! monsieur le duc, it is not at a moment that we can give a positive
reply to such grave matters. I content myself in assuring you, that I
have for you as much confidence as respect, and should be very happy to
obtain your protection."

"My protection! Oh, heaven, madame, you are jesting. It is I who should
be honored by your friendship."

"It is yours; but as yet I am nothing at court, and can do nothing there
until I have been presented. It is for my speedy presentation that my
friends should labor now."

"We will not fail, madame; and if you will allow me to come from time to
time to converse with you, we can take our measures."

"Your visits will always be agreeable."

Such was the conversation which I had with the duc de la Vauguyon. I
have given it somewhat at length, because it was the preface to a deep
intrigue which made a vast noise. I think I extricated myself very
well from the net in which the duke sought to catch me. I knew that his
situation at Versailles compelled me to act with caution towards him. He
was in good odor with _mesdames_, had the ear of the young dauphin and
the princes his brothers. He deceived me like a true Jesuit as he was,
in telling me that the _mesdames_ were well disposed towards me; and on
my side I cheated him with a promise of confidence and, friendship which
I never bestowed. Ah! my friend, again and again must I exclaim, what a
villainous place is a court!

Whilst the duc de la Vauguyon was seeking to enlist me under the banners
of heaven or the Jesuits, the marquis of Chauvelin also essayed to make
me his pupil; but as frank as he was amiable, this nobleman did not go
to work in a roundabout manner. He came to me loyally, requesting me to
consider his interests and mine.

"The king likes me," said he, "and I am attached to him body and soul.
He tenderly loves you, and I should have no difficulty in doing the same
thing; but as I am no longer of an age to inspire you with the passion
which I should feel towards you, I content myself with your friendship.
I have no enemy here, and no wish to hurt any person. Thus you need not
fear that I shall urge you to any measures that might compromise you. It
is the hatred of the kingdom that you will have to fear. France is about
to march in a better track, and the best plan is to follow its lead.
It pains me, madame, to use language which may appear severe to you; we
ought only to talk to you of your beauty and the love which it inspires.
But in your situation, even that beauty may serve the interests of
France, and it is for that motive that I come to solicit you."

I replied to M. de Chauvelin with equal frankness. I told him that my
sole intentions were to confine myself to the circle of my duties; that
I had none but to please the king, and no intention of mixing myself
up with state affairs. This was my plan I can assure you. I flattered
myself that I could follow it, not dreaming of those political nuisances
into which I was precipitated in spite of myself. I added, nevertheless,
that in my situation, which was delicate, I would not refuse the
counsels of a faithful servant of the king, and that under this title M.
de Chauvelin should be consulted on important occasions.

The marquis de Chauvelin had too much good sense, too much knowledge of
the world, not to perceive a refusal concealed under this politeness.
The secret inclination of my heart had already led me to select the duc
d'Aiguillon for my director, and I could not reconcile myself to any
other. He contented himself with asking me again for my friendship,
which I willingly accorded him, and I have always found myself fortunate
in his. Thus did I accept the offers of service from the prince de
Soubise, the duc de la Vauguyon, and the marquis de Chauvelin.

A fourth sought to swell the ranks; the comte, afterwards prince, de
Montbarrey. This gentleman made up in pretensions for what he lacked
in talent. He was weak, self-important, selfish, fond of women, and
endeavored to preserve all the airs of a man of good breeding in the
midst of the grossest debauchery. He was full of respect for himself and
his house, of which in time of need he could cite the whole genealogy.
His nomination was a real scandal; no one dreamt of his ever being
minister of war. It was one of the thousand follies of old Maurepas,
whom the late king knew well, and called the ballad-maker of the
council.

The comte de Montbarrey, whom I had known at Paris, came to me one fine
day, fully powdered, performed, and apparelled. He had a smile on
his lip, a loud tone, and an insolent look. He came not to ask
my friendship, but my obedience. He told me that he loved me to
distraction, and of course my head must be equally towards him. He
amused me. I let him run out the full length of his line; and when he
had spun it all out, I said to him, "Monsieur, be so good as to call me
to the recollection of madame de Merfort."

She was one of the gambling ladies, and at her house I had formerly met
the chevalier de Montbarrey. My reply confounded him: he saw that he had
gone the wrong way to work with me; and, raising the siege, he left me
excessively embarrassed.

Figure to yourself, my friend, what confidence a man, lost in the
crowd of lower courtiers, could inspire me with; for to judge of the
proceedings of the comte de Montbarrey, it would have been necessary
to have seen him as he then was, and not what he became since the
imbecility of M. de Maurepas. When I told comte Jean of his visit, he
would not believe such insolence. You must know that my brother-in-law
also wished to direct me, but I did not consider him sufficiently
clever. His marvellous genius was eclipsed in politics. He swore at my
ingratitude, and I could only appease him by an offering of plenty of
money.

In the midst of this cross-fire of intrigues, one was devised against me
which might have terminated in my ruin; but, thanks to the indefatigable
activity of comte Jean, only served to fix me more firmly in my
situation. Lebel, of whom I have said nothing for this age, came to me
one day: his face was sad, and his look serious. By his manner I augured
that my reign had passed, and that I must quit my post. I awaited what
he should say with mortal impatience. At length he began thus:

"Madame, you have many bitter enemies, who are laboring to effect your
ruin with a blood-thirstiness which nothing can assuage. They have now
spread a report that you are not married. This infamous calumny--"

"Ah, is that all?" said I with joy; "no, my dear Lebel, this time they
do not calumniate me. The worthy creatures for once are right."

"What," said Lebel, in a tone of alarm almost comic, "what, are you
really not married?"

"No."

"Are you not the wife of the comte Guillaume du Barry?"

"No."

"Then you have deceived the king, and played with me."

"Lebel, my friend, take another tone. No one has any right to complain.
You have given me to the king as a person to please him; I do so. The
rest can be no matter of yours."

"Pardon me, madame; it is a matter of the greatest consequence to me. I
am terribly compromised in this affair, and you with me."

Lebel told me that the duchesse de Grammont had begged him to call upon
her, and had bitterly reproached him about the mistress he had procured
for the king; the duchesse affirmed that I was a nameless and unmarried
creature; and added, that it was his duty to make the king acquainted
with these particulars, unless I, the pretended wife of du Barry, would
consent to go to England when a large pension should be assured to me.

"No, my dear Lebel, I will not go to England; I will remain in France,
at Versailles, at the chateau. If I am not married I will be; the thing
is easily managed."

Lebel, somewhat assured, begged me to send for comte Jean, and when he
came he (Lebel) recommenced his tale of grief.

"You are drowning yourself in a glass of water," said my future
brother-in-law to him, beginning to treat him with less ceremony; "go
back to the duchesse de Grammont, and tell her that madame was married
at Toulouse. She will have an inquiry set on foot; in the mean while my
brother will arrive, and the marriage will take place. Then we will show
the rebels a real comtesse du Barry; and whether my sister-in-law be
a lady of six months' standing or only of yesterday, that is of no
consequence to the king of France."

After this conversation Lebel delivered the message to the duchesse
de Grammont, who told him that she should write to Toulouse to the
attorney-general. This was what the comte Jean wished and he was
prepared for her.

But, you will say to me, was it certain that your asserted husband would
marry you? Were there no difficulties to fear? None. Comte Guillaume was
poor, talented, and ambitious; he liked high living, and would have sold
himself to the devil for riches. He was happy in marrying me. Comte Jean
would not have ventured such a proposal to his other brother, the comte
d'Hargicourt, who had much good sense and great notions of propriety,
and who at Versailles was called the _honnete homme_; a distinction not
over flattering to his two brothers.

The same evening the whole family arrived, and was presented to me the
next day. My two future sisters-in-law frightened me at first with their
provincial manners and southern accent; but, after a few minutes,
I found that this Gascon pronunciation had many charms with it.
Mesdemoiselles du Barry were not handsome but very agreeable. One was
called Isabelle, whom they had nicknamed _Bischi_, the other's name was
Fanchon, and her name had been abbreviated to "_Chon_." The latter had
much talent, and even brought to Versailles with her, an instinctive
spirit of diplomacy which would have done honor to a practised courtier.
She would have been thought simple, unsophisticated, and yet was full of
plot and cunning.

I was soon much pleased with her, and the king became equally so. He was
always very much amused at hearing her talk _patois_ (provincially), or
recite the verses of one Gondouli, a poet of Languedoc. He used to make
her jump upon his knees; and altho' she had passed the first bloom
of youth, he played with her like a child. But what most particularly
diverted the king, was calling my sister-in-law by her nickname;
"_Petite Chon, grande Chon_," he was always saying, "do this, go there,
come here." Louis XV did the same with his own daughters: he had amongst
them a _Loque_, a _Graille_, a _Chiffe_, and they were the ladies
Victoire, Adelaide, and Sophie, whom he thus elegantly designated. I so
soon saw the taste of the king for nicknames that I gave him one, it
was Lafrance. So far from being angry with me, he laughed to tears
every time that I called him so. I must confess, _en passant_, that
the anecdote about the coffee is true.* I will only justify myself by
saying, that if I expressed myself coarsely it was not in consequence
of my vulgar education, but because the king liked such modes of
expression.

     *Louis XV had a habit of making his own coffee after dinner.
     One day the coffee boiled over the sides of the pot, and
     madame du Barry cried out, "Eh, Lafrance, ton cafe f --- le
     camp."  (author)

Let me revert to my marriage, which was performed secretly at the parish
of Saint Laurent. I believe the king knew of it, altho' he never alluded
to it any more than myself. Thus the malice of my enemies was completely
balked in this affair. Some days afterwards comte Jean received a letter
from the attorney-general of the parliament of Toulouse, M. the marquis
de Bonrepos-Riquet. This gentleman informed my brother-in-law that he
had been applied to, to institute an inquiry at all the notaries, and
amongst all the registers of the parishes for the proof of my marriage;
that he warned us to be on our guard, and that whatever diligence he
might be desired to employ, he should do nothing without informing us.
We felt the obligation of this proceeding, and my brother-in-law thanked
the attorney-general in my name as well as in his own. He told him that
it was not at Toulouse that the parties interested should make their
researches for my marriage certificate, but at Paris, either at the
parish church of Saint Laurent, or at the notary's, Lepot d'Auteuil. M.
de Bonrepos gave part of this reply to the duchesse de Grammont. Great
was the bustle amongst the Choiseuls! I leave you to judge of the
fury of the lady or ladies, for the contesse de Grammont was no less
irritated than the other, always prepossessed with the idea, that to
please the king was to wrong their family. The comtesse de Grammont had
not half the talent of the duchesse, she had only her faults. She
showed herself so rude and impertinent towards me, that I was at length
compelled, not to exile her of my own accord, but to allow that she
should be so served. But I anticipate, for this did not occur until the
following year.

The king by all his kindnesses endeavored to recompense me for these
attacks: he appeared charmed to see me surrounded by my husband's
family. He placed amongst the pages the vicomte Adolphe du Barry, son of
comte Jean, a young man of great promise, but whose destiny was so brief
and so unfortunate. My husband's family testified much affection for
me, as did the duc d'Aiguillon, to whom I daily attached myself. He
carefully kept from me all that could give me pain, and took a thousand
precautions that no unpleasant reports should reach me. If we passed a
short time without meeting he wrote to me, and I confess I was delighted
with a correspondence which formed my own style. Mademoiselle Chon, my
sister-in-law, and I also wrote to each other, and that from one room to
another. I remember that one day, having broken a glass of rock crystal
which she had given me, I announced my misfortune in such solemn style,
and with so well feigned a tone of chagrin, that the letter amused the
whole family. The king saw it, and was so much pleased that he kept it,
and next day sent me a golden goblet enriched with stones, which I gave
to Chon, to whom it rightfully belonged.



CHAPTER VI


     Journey to Choisy--The comtesse du Barry and Louis XV--The
     king of Denmark--The czar Peter--Frederick II--The abbe de
     la Chapelle--An experiment--New intrigues--Secret agents-The
     comtesse and Louis XV--Of the presentation--Letter of the
     comtesse to the duc d'Aiguillon--Reply--Prince de Soubise

Up to this period I had resided constantly at Versailles or Paris,
according to the pleasure of the king, but had never followed his
majesty in any of his journeys. He wished to pass some days at his
delightful chateau at Choisy, situated on the banks of the Seine. It was
decided that I should be of the party, taking the name of the baroness
de Pamklek, a German lady, as that would save me from the embarrassment
in which I should be placed with the king in consequence of my
non-presentation. The prince de Soubise, the ducs de la Trimoulle,
d'Ayen, d'Aiguillon, and the marquis de Chauvelin, were also to attend
the king. The king remained nearly the whole time with me, and the
_entree_ to my apartment became a favor not accorded to every body.
A small committee met there, and talked of every thing except what is
rational; and I can assure you that with such conversation time passes
very quickly.

One day the king entered my apartment holding in his hand a letter.

"I am about to receive," said he, "a visit that will not give me much
pleasure. My brother of Denmark is traversing Europe, and is about
to come to France. _Mon Dieu_! what inconvenient persons are your
travelling kings! Why do they leave their kingdoms? I think they are
very well at home."

"Yes, sire, but there is an excuse for them: they are weary of admiring
your majesty at a distance, and wish for the happiness of knowing you."

At this compliment the king rubbed his hands with a smile, which he
always did when he was satisfied, and then said,

"There is not in the hearts of foreign potentates the same affection
towards my person as you feel. It is not me but France they wish to see.
I remember that when very young I received a visit from the czar Peter
the Great, Peter the First I mean to say. He was not deficient in sense,
but yet behaved like a boor: he passed his time in running over the
academies, libraries, and manufactories: I never saw such an ill-bred
man. Imagine him embracing me at our first interview, and carrying me in
his arms as one of my valets would have done. He was dirty, coarse,
and ill-dressed. Well, all the Frenchmen ran after him; one would
have supposed by their eagerness that they had never seen a regal
countenance."

"Yet there was no occasion to run very far to see the handsome face of a
king."

"Hold your tongue, madame la baronne de Pamklek, you are a flatterer.
There is a crowned head which for thirty years has desired to visit
France, but I have always turned a deaf ear, and will resist it as long
as possible."

"Who, sire, is the king so unfortunate as to banished by you from your
majesty's presence?"

"Who? The king of philosophers, the rival of Voltaire, my brother of
Prussia. Ah, my dear baronne, he is a bad fellow; he detests me, and I
have no love for him. A king does wisely, certainly, to submit his works
to the judgment of a Freron! It would be outrageous scandal if he came
here. Great and small would crowd around him, and there would not be
twenty persons in my train."

"Ah! sire, do you think so?"

"I am sure of it. The French now-a-days do not care for their kings,
and _la Fronde_ will be renewed at an early day. After all, philosophers
believe that Frederick II protects them: the honest man laughs both at
them and me."

"At you, sire? Impossible."

"No, no; I know the impertinences he is guilty of towards me: but let
him. I prefer making my court to the pretty women of my kingdom instead
of to my pages. You may depend upon it that if he came to Versailles he
would debauch some of them."

The king, charmed at having said this malicious speech, rubbed his hands
again.

"Really, sire," I replied, "I am astonished that this prince, having
such disgusting inclinations, can have much _eclat_ attached to his
name."

"Ah, that is because he has great qualities: he will not allow himself
to be cheated. Do you know that he is acquainted with the disposal of
his finances to the last farthing?"

"Sire, he must be a miser."

"No, madame, he is a man of method. But enough of him. As to his majesty
of Denmark, altho' he would have been as welcome to stay at home, I
shall receive him with as much attention as possible. The kings of
Denmark and Sweden are my natural allies."

The king changed the subject, and said, "There is an abbe, named la
Chapelle, whom I think half cracked. He flatters himself that he can,
thro' the medium of some apparatus, remain on the water without sinking.
He begs my permission to exhibit his experiment before me; and if it
would amuse you, we will have the exhibition to-morrow." I accepted the
king's proposal with pleasure.

On the next day we went in a body to the terrace of the chateau. The
king was near me with his hat in his hand; the duc de Duras gave me his
arm. M. l' abbe waited us in a boat: he flung himself bodily into the
water, dressed in a sort of cork-jacket, moved in any direction in the
water, drank, ate, and fired off a gun. So far all went off well, but
the poor abbe, to close the affair, wrote a letter to the king. The
letter was carried in great pomp to his majesty. It contained two verses
of Racine, which had some double allusion to the experiment. This, you
may be sure, was interpreted in the worst manner. The duc d'Ayen gave
the finishing stroke to the whole, on his opinion being asked by the
king.

"Sire," said he, "such men ought to be thrown into the water; but all we
can wish for them is, that they should remain there."

The abbe was not more fortunate in the evening. He presented himself at
supper, but the king did not address a word to him, and he was compelled
to bear the malicious jokes of the courtiers. But let us leave Choisy
and the experimentalist, and return to Versailles and myself.

My friends were excessively desirous for my presentation, which would
decide my position at the chateau. As yet I only had an equivocal
existence, having rank neither at play, theatre, or public festival; so
that if the king should be capricious I could be dismissed as one of
the demoiselles of the _Parc-aux-Cerfs_. The duc d'Aiguillon, whose
attachment to me increased, calculated accurately all the advantages of
this presentation. It would place me on the same footing with madame de
Pompadour, and compel the ministers to come and work with me. The duke
did not doubt but that M. de Choiseul would refuse to pay his _devoirs_
to me, and that his resistance would lead to his fall. But for my
presentation, it was necessary not only that the king should consent,
for of that I was certain, but that he should desire it, and his desire
could not be depended on.

Louis XV was excessively timid: with an air which appeared of a
dreadnaught quality, he was fearful at heart. The clamors of Versailles
kept him in alarm; and he kept at his own court and at foreign courts
secret agents, whose only care was to report to him the complaints
of the people and the sarcasms and satires of society. The king was
attached to them; and when the force of circumstances compelled him to
abandon them, he still supported them clandestinely with all his power.
A proof of what I advance may be known as regards the chevalier or
chevaliere d'Eon, I know not which. But these secret agents were,
unknown to the king, all devoted to the parliaments, and consequently
inimical to courtiers, favorites, and especially mistresses. God knows
how they disposed of us! By these unpropitious channels the king had
learnt all the hatred which was borne to madame de Pompadour. He was
afraid of exciting the discontent of the people by announcing another
mistress, and was no less intimidated at the severity of madame Louise,
and the ill-humor of his other children. He loved his pleasure much, but
his ease more.

Comte Jean, who was restrained by no considerations, advised me to
overleap all difficulty, by asking the king myself for the favor which
I coveted. His advice seemed rational, and I was besides urged on to do
so. Each day brought to me impertinences said of me by the noble ladies
of the chateau. I learnt that they boasted that I should never set foot
in the great apartments, but should remain the obscure mistress of the
king. This made me impatient, and by degrees deprived me of my natural
gaiety.

One day when the king was with me, he perceived my want of spirits.

"What ails you?" said be, with the greatest solicitude.

"What ails me!" replied I, "I wish I were dead, rather than see myself
the butt of all the scandal of the foul-mouthed gossips of your court."

The king, suspecting the confidence I was about to repose in him, was
sorry he had asked for it, and was silent. He began to play a tattoo
with his fingers on the chimney-piece. At this moment mademoiselle Chon
came in. The king, delighted at seeing her, instantly inquired into her
state of health. She, after a profound reverence, said,

"Sire, how can I be well when there is trouble in my family?"

"Ah, _bon Dieu_! what is this?" said he, turning to me.

"I am insulted, hooted: they say that I have the misfortune to be no
longer in the good graces of your majesty."

"Ah, tell them they lie in their throats," replied the king, kissing me
on the forehead; "you are the woman of my heart, and she whom I would
fain load with honors."

"Your majesty speaks to me," I answered, "with great condescension [my
sister-in-law left the room that she might not spoil the explanation],
but yet you are the cause of the insolences which I am subjected to from
the vile crew."

"What is the matter with you to-day? In truth you are a perfect little
devil."

"I wish I were, that I might punish evil tongues, since there is no king
of France to avenge me."

"You are severe, madame," replied Louis XV, turning his imposing and
handsome face towards me, and to which he vainly endeavored to give an
air of anger. I saw my success, and added,

"Yes, sire, it is insupportable for me to think that I am supposed not
to possess your friendship, and that I only play the part of a temporary
friend. It makes me wretched: you must not be angry if I complain of you
to your royal self."

"Well, well, you madcap, what must I do? Whom must I banish?"

"Oh, sire, no one: with your august support I fear no person; nothing
but appearances."

"You are an excellent creature; in your place madame de Pompadour would
have imprisoned half France."

"That was because she loved revenge better than she loved your majesty.
As for me, I should be miserable if I were the cause of one single
family complaining against you."

The king, delighted at these words, which really came from my heart,
embraced me tenderly two or three times, and said,

"I wish your enemies could understand you, for they would soon be at
your knees. But if we imprison or exile no person, how shall we strike
terror into them?"

"It is not terror but envy that I would excite. Let me be presented at
court, and all my wishes will be satisfied."

"I cannot for the life of me divine why you should lay so much stress
on coming to weary yourself with the ceremonies of myself and daughters.
Heaven preserve you from all the irksomeness of court ceremony!" And
Louis XV sighed. "Did you ever think," he added, "of all the vanities,
all the interests I have to manage; all the intrigues that are
perpetually agitating, and all the opposition made to me? The court,
the city, the people, will rise against me: they will clamor,
groan, complain; verse, prose, epigram, and pamphlet will appear in
uninterrupted succession. You would be first attacked, and hatred will
perhaps extend to me. I shall see again the times when the Damiens,
in the name of the parliaments, as one party says, in the name of the
Jesuits, as the other party says, and, what is more true, in the name--"

The king suddenly paused; a deep shade of melancholy settled on his
features, his noble head dropped on his bosom. Louis XV remained for
some time motionless; at length,

"Well," he exclaimed, attempting to force a smile, "well! I will write
to the ladies de Grammont, to inform them that they need not give
themselves the trouble to remain near me at the chateau."

On his saying these words I darted towards the door, and went into my
chamber. The king followed, and finding there mademoiselle Chon, who was
working at some tapestry, said to her,

"Mademoiselle, I confide to your care, and by oral _lettre de cachet_,
the most amiable little devil in France. And now, mademoiselle du Barry,
having nothing further to add, I pray God to take you to His powerful
and holy keeping."

After this pleasantry the king, delighted at the gay termination of
a somewhat serious scene, went, or rather vanished; for to use a
proverbial expression, he ran like a thief.

As soon as I was alone with my sister-in-law, I told her all that had
passed.

"I see," said she, "that the king is fearful of offending the duc de
Choiseul, and giving annoyance to his daughters. But a step must
be determined on which will place you out of the reach of complete
disgrace. Would it not be best to get some nobleman, who can do so with
influence, to speak to him on the subject? If the duc de Richelieu were
here--"

"But," I instantly exclaimed, "have we not his nephew, the duc
d'Aiguillon? He is well with the king, and I am certain will take the
most lively interest in all that concerns me."

"I have no doubt of it," said Chon, with a sly look. "Write to him to
come, and you can arrange your ulterior proceedings."

On this advice, which was quite to my taste, I went instantly to my
writing-table, the last present which the king had made me. It was made
of silver gilt, and china slabs beautifully painted. When I opened it,
a glass was lifted which reflected my countenance. I sat down and wrote
the following note to the duc d'Aiguillon:--

"You must be content. I want your assistance, I really want it. The
moment has come for deserving all my confidence. Will you have it at all
risks and perils? Reflect well before you undertake this: if you accept,
come to-day at five o'clock precisely, neither later nor sooner."

A little while afterwards the following reply was brought.

"One thing displeases me in your letter which else enchants me. You
appear to doubt my obedience. Am I not your slave? And when you say to
me _go_, will I not _go_? Rely on me as on yourself; even more: for your
vivacity may lead you into error, and I shall preserve my reason. Yes,
madame, I will, when near you, preserve my reason when your interests
are at stake. At the fixed hour I shall have the honor to lay at your
feet my respectful homage and boundless devotion."

It was impossible to express a real sentiment with more delicacy. I
was charmed at it, no longer doubting that the duke would consider my
interests as his own. I awaited the hour of five with impatience,
when my good fortune brought the prince de Soubise. After the first
compliments,

"Well, madame la comtesse, when is your presentation to take place?"

"I do not know, monsieur le marechal; there are obstacles in the way.
I fear that they who wish to injure me abuse their influence with the
king."

"I see that his majesty hesitates, altho' he is desirous of giving you
station. He must be stimulated to know that he is master; and that if he
shows any wavering in this particular, it will be made use of to govern
him hereafter."

Heartily did I applaud the language of M. de Soubise: I did not suspect
that the dear prince had another motive behind. At the end of the
interview he said,

"Madame, you would not have been as you now are had you been more
conciliatory towards me. I know the king, and know how to manage him. I
flatter myself that you would have been now presented had you deigned to
hear my advice."

"Did I reject it? Was I wrong in declining to have mademoiselle Guimard
as ambassadress? Were you assured of her silence? Might she not have
compromised us?"

"You are right; I did as one would have done at your age, and you have
done as I should do at mine; but there is always time to amend."

"Certainly, prince."

"You accept my advice, then."

"Yes," I replied, seeing the defile in which he wished to entrap me,
"yes, if I am presented thro' your influence, from that moment you
become my guide and mentor. But it is important that the presentation be
not delayed; I rely on you to speak to the king this day about it; and
I know that he will give me every particular of the immense service you
will render me."

For once the madcap girl got the better of the practised courtier. M. de
Soubise, taken in his own snare, politely excused himself, and left me
with an assurance that he would speak to the king. He did speak, but
obtained nothing more than any other. You will see in my next letter
that I did not arrive at the accomplishment of my wishes without much
trouble. There were in this affair more intrigues for and against me
than were afterwards set on foot to decide war with America.



CHAPTER VII


     The comtesse and the duc d'Aiguillon--M. de Soubise--Louis
     XV and the duc d'Aiguillon--Letter from the comtesse to the
     king--Answer of the king-The "_Nouvelles a la Main_"--The
     comtesse and Louis XV--The supper--The court ladies
     mystified--The comtesse and M. de Sartines

I was still triumphing at the skill which I had displayed in my
conference with the prince de Soubise when the duc d'Aiguillon entered.

"Good heaven," said he, kissing my hand very tenderly, "into what
inquietude did you throw me by your dear and cruel letter. The ambiguity
of your style has caused me inexpressible sorrow; and you have added to
it by not allowing me to come to you at the first moment."

"I could not: I thought it would be dangerous for you to appear before
the king previously to having seen me."

"Would the king have thought my visit strange?" asked the duke, not
without some emotion.

"That is not the point. The black spite of my enemies has not yet
deprived me of the counsels of a friend. But as it is necessary to speak
to the king in my favor, I wish that he should not know that you do so
at my request."

After this I related to the duke my conversation with the king.

"Your situation is delicate," said he to me, "but it should not trouble
you. The king is weak, we must give him courage. It is his pliancy of
disposition rather than his resistance that we must contend with, and I
go to act upon it."

I then instructed the duke with what had passed between me and the
prince de Soubise. When I had done, the duke replied:

"Expect nothing from the prince de Soubise: he will speak, no doubt; but
how? In a jesting, laughing way. If, however, you think he can at all
serve you, give him all your confidence."

"No, no, never," I replied with quickness; "it is not a thing to be done
lightly; we do not select a confidant, counsellor, or friend, at random.
Do you not know this, M. le duc? It is requisite that the heart of
the one who speaks should repose itself on the heart of the friend who
listens. I repeat to you that I have no feeling of confidence towards
M. de Soubise. In fact," I added with visible and troubled emotion, "my
choice is made, and you have too much heroism to wish to combat it."

At these flattering words the duke precipitated himself at my feet, and
swore to support my cause with all his power and interest. I replied
that I fully relied on his devotion and prudence. Comte Jean entered,
and it was agreed between us three that I should say no more to the king
of my presentation before the duc d'Aiguillon had spoken to him of it;
that I should content myself with complaining without peevishness, and
that we should leave the opening measure to the prince de Soubise, and
let him break the ice to his majesty.

The prince de Soubise behaved exactly as the duke had told me: he came
to me the next morning with a mysterious air, which already informed
me of all he had to say. He said that he had vainly tormented the king;
that his majesty wished things to remain just as they were, and desired
that until a new order of things nothing should be altered.

"I am sorry for it, monsieur le marechal," I replied. "Whilst I am in
this precarious situation, whilst I remain in a corner of the stage as a
confidante of tragedy, I can do nothing for my friends, particularly for
you, monsieur le marechal."

"On the contrary, madame," he replied, "the king will be more disposed
to listen to you whilst he will suppose that your influence is unknown."

"Oh," cried I with a feeling of anger, "you gentlemen courtiers think
of nothing but politics. As for me, who am a woman, I have other matters
for consideration: I must have honors, title, rank. My self-love suffers
cruelly when I see myself immolated by the fear which the ladies de
Grammont and three or four other intriguers of their party are able to
excite."

The prince was somewhat startled at the freedom of language which I
used towards ladies in such credit at court: he begged me to moderate my
feelings, and be less moved and excited. By this the prince de Soubise
lost the esteem which I might have accorded him, and the second place in
my counsels, which I might have given him.

I told the duke, who came to see me the moment afterwards, of the
failure of the prince's attempt. He told me that he had not hoped for
a better result. He went to the king, flattering himself with hopes of
better success, but did not find him.

The daughters of Louis XV had united against me with a fury which
nothing could justify. They were incessantly talking scandal of my past
life, as if there were only saints at court, as if they had no pranks
of their own to reproach themselves with. All the chateau knew of their
lovers, and there was _living_ evidence of the tenderness of madame
Adelaide: as for madame Louise she was an angel upon earth, and was the
only one who did not join in the cry against me. On the other hand, the
king, whilst he had but little love for his dear daughters, preserved
towards them a complaisance and external appearance of kindness which
was a substitute for parental love. When _mesdames royales_ cried out,
he stopped his ears with his two hands, and seemed, whilst looking
proudly at France, to say, "Am not I a good father, and are not my
daughters very happy, for I let them cry out with all their might?"

The next day the duc d'Aiguillon went again to the king, and found him
bewildered with family scenes and the murmurings of the Choiseuls. When
my ambassador had delivered his message, the king asked him if he, as
well as the prince de Soubise, had been set upon his haunches by me.

The duke, nothing intimidated at this, told the king that far from
having wished that he should be my interpreter, I had requested him not
to allude to the matter.

"Why, then," said Louis XV laughing, "do you not follow the advice of
the comtesse?"

"Because I entertain a sincere attachment for her, and that I am vexed
to hear it said that there are persons who lead your majesty."

"Who are the insolents that hold such language?"

"They surround you, sire. There is not a female here but affirms that
you dare not decide on the presentation of the comtesse."

"I alone am master, and will let them know it when the opportunity
arrives; but the present moment is not fitting. The comtesse knows how
well I love her; and if she will prove her friendship towards me, she
will remain quiet for some time."

The duke thought it best to be silent, and came to me. After relating
the conversation, he added, "Do not appear at all dejected; the king
would not then visit you lest he should find you out of temper. Were I
you I should write to him; a word of peace would set him at ease."

I approved this advice, and instantly penned the following letter:--

"Sire--They tell me that your majesty has been tormented on my account.
It is a treason of which I alone could believe myself capable. But why
should I complain? You have done so much for me that I ought to
esteem myself happy: your august friendship consoles me thro' all my
annoyances. Be assured that henceforth I shall pout no more; I will be
the best sheep in the world, relying on my shepherd for not having my
fleece cut too closely; for after all I think I am the petted ewe, etc."

A short time afterwards a page brought me a splendid box of _bonbons_
with a pair of ruby ear-rings surrounded with diamonds, and this short
billet:--

"Yes, assuredly you are my pet ewe, and always shall be. The shepherd
has a strong crook with which he will drive away those who would injure
you. Rely on your shepherd for the care of your tranquillity, and the
peace of your future life."

In the evening the king visited me. He was embarrassed, but I set him at
ease by showing him a laughing countenance, talking only of his present,
which I had in my ears, and shaking my head about to keep the drops in
motion, which sparkled with great brilliancy. He was pleased at this,
and did not leave me all the evening. In the morning we were the best
friends in the world.

Some days elapsed, when comte Jean came to me, bringing two infamous
articles which had appeared in the "_Nouvelles a la Main_," and were
directed against me. They were atrocious and deeply chagrined me: I
placed them on the mantel-piece, where all who came in could see them.
The duc de Duras read them, and said, "Conceal these atrocities from the
king."

"No," was my reply, "I wish him to read them, that he may know how his
affections are respected, and how the police of Paris are employed in
doing their duty to the throne."

These last words annoyed M. de Duras, between whom and M. de Sartines
there was a connection: the duke was indebted to the lieutenant-general
of police for the special surveillance which he kept over a young girl
of whom he, the duc de Duras, was foolishly enamoured. Trembling for
his _dear friend_ M. de Sartines, he wrote to him in haste, but had not
courage or talent enough to undertake the defence of the guilty person.

The king came as usual; his general station was at the chimney-piece,
where he amused himself with looking at the baubles that ornamented it.
The "_Nouvelles a la Main_" fell in his way. He read them once, then
again; then, without uttering a word, threw them into the fire. I
observed him, and saw that he was full of emotion which he sought to
conceal, but the anger burst forth soon. The prince de Soubise, who
supped with us that evening, asked the duc de Duras if he had read the
"_Gazette de France._"

"No," was the reply; "I seldom read such nonsense."

"And you are quite right," said the king. "There is at present a most
inconceivable mania for writing. What is the use, I ask you, gentlemen,
of this deluge of books and pamphlets with which France is inundated?
They only contain the spirit of rebellion: the freedom of writing ought
not to be given to every body. There should be in a well-regulated state
seven or eight writers, not more; and these under the inspection of
government. Authors are the plague of France; you will see whither they
will lead it."

The king spoke this with an animated air, and if at this moment M. de la
Vrilliere had come to ask for a _lettre de cachet_ against a writer, the
king would not have refused it.

"Besides," added the king, in a tone of less anger, but no less
emphatically, "I see with pain that the police do not do their duty with
regard to all these indignities."

"Yet," said the duc de Duras, "M. de Sartines does wonders."

"Then why does he tolerate such insults? I will let him know my
discontent."

The duc de Duras was alarmed, and kept his mouth closed. The king then,
resuming his gaiety, joked the two gentlemen on their secret intrigues:
then changing the conversation suddenly, he talked of the expected
arrival of the king of Denmark.

"Duc de Duras," said he, "you and your son must do the office of master
of ceremonies to his _Polar_ majesty. I hope you will endeavor to amuse
him."

"Yes, sire."

"Mind, what you undertake is no joke. It is no easy matter to amuse a
king."

This was a truth which I perceived at every moment, and our monarch
was not the one to be amused with trifling exertion. Frequently when
he entered my apartment he threw himself on an ottoman, and yawned most
excessively, yes, yawned in my company. I had but one mode of rousing
him from this apathy, but it was a sure one. I spoke of the high
magistracy and its perpetual resistance to the throne. Then the king
aroused, instantly sprung from his seat, traversed the room with rapid
strides, and declaimed vigorously against the _black gowns_; thus he
styled the parliaments. I confess, however, that I only had recourse to
the "black gowns" at the last extremity. Little did I think that at a
later period I should league myself against them. On the one hand, the
duc d'Aiguillon hated them mortally, and on the other, the comte Jean,
like a real Toulousian, would have carried them in his slippers; so that
wavering between the admiration of the one and the hatred of the other,
I knew not which to listen to, or which party to side with. But to
return to present matters.

The king was always thinking of the "_ Nouvelles a la Main,_" and
determined to avenge me as openly as I had been attacked. Two or three
days afterwards he gave a supper, to which he invited the duchesse and
comtesse de Grammont, madame de Forcalquier, the princess de Marsan, the
marechale de Mirepoix, and the comtesses de Coigny and de Montbarrey.
They were seated at table laughing and amusing themselves; they talked
of the pleasure of being to _themselves_, of having no _strangers_; they
pierced me with a hundred thrusts; they triumphed! And yet the king was
laughing in his sleeve. At a premeditated signal the duc d'Aiguillon,
one of the guests, asked his majesty if he had seen the comtesse du
Barry that day. This terrible name, thrown suddenly into the midst of my
enemies, had the effect of a thunder-clap. All the ladies looked at each
other first and then at the king, and the duc d'Aiguillon, reserving
profound silence. His majesty then replied, that he had not had the
happiness of visiting me that day, not having had one moment's leisure;
then eulogized me at great length, and ended by saying to the duke, "If
you see the comtesse before I do, be sure to say that I drank this glass
of wine to her health."

The ladies did not anticipate this. The duchesse de Grammont
particularly, in spite of long residence at court, turned pale to her
very ears, and I believe but for etiquette she would have fallen into
a swoon. I learnt afterwards from the marechale de Mirepoix, that the
duchesse, on going home, gave herself up to a fit of rage, which did
not terminate even on the following day. When the king related this
occurrence to me, he was as proud of it as if he had done a most
courageous deed.

But I have omitted a day which was of great importance to me in
its consequences. I mean the day which followed that on which I had
complained to the duc de Duras of M. the lieutenant of police. In the
morning early my sister-in-law came into my room.

"Sister," said she, "comte Jean is here with M. de Sartines, who begs to
pay his respects to you. Will you receive him?"

"M. de Sartines! Yes, let him come in; I will treat him as he deserves."

Comte Jean then came in, preceded by the lieutenant of police: he wore
a large peruke with white powder, and curled with the utmost care. Wigs
were his mania, and he had a room filled from floor to ceiling with
these ornaments. The duc d'Ayen said, that he never should be in trouble
about the council of state, for in case of need, it might be found and
replenished from the house of the lieutenant of police. Let us leave
wigs and revert to M. de Sartines.

He appeared before me with the air of Tartuffe, and, forgive the phrase,
_en vrai capon_.

"Madame," said he to me, "I have been informed that I am in disgrace
with you, and have come to inquire how I may extricate myself from this
misfortune."

"You ought to know, sir. Twice in one month have I been shamefully
insulted; and yet the first intimation of such a thing ought to have put
you on your guard."

M. de Sartines, whom my tone had much surprised, endeavored to justify
himself, when comte Jean said to him,

"My dear lieutenant of police, all you have said goes for nothing. One
thing is certain, and that is, that there is a deficiency of respect
towards my sister-in-law. You say that it is not your fault: what proof
do you give us of this? What inquiries have you made? What measures have
you taken? Any? Why do you come to us if you aid our enemies?"

M. de Sartines would fain have ensconced himself in his own dignity.

"M. du Barry," was his reply, "I shall render an account of my conduct
to the king."

"Very well, sir," I replied, "but do not suppose that either you or the
Choiseuls can give me any cause of fear."

M. de Sartines was thunderstruck; my boldness astonished him. At length
he said,

"Madame, you are angry with me causelessly; I am more negligent than
culpable. It is useless to say this to the king."

"I will not conceal from you, sir, that he knows it all, and is greatly
discontented with you."

"I am lost then," said M. de Sartines.

"Lost! not precisely," replied comte Jean; "but you must decide at once
and for ever what party you will join. If you are with us they will use
you harshly; if you take the opposite party look to yourself. Choose."

After some turnings and twistings, accompanied with compliments, M. de
Sartines declared that he would range himself under our banner. Then
I extended to him my hand in token of reconciliation; he took it with
respect, and kissed it with gallantry. Up to this time we had conversed
with feelings of restraint and standing; but now we seated ourselves,
and begun a conference in form, as to the manner of preventing a
recurrence of the offensive outrages against me. As a proof of good
intention M. de Sartines told me the author of the two articles of which
I complained. He was a wretch, named Ledoux, who for twelve hundred
livres per annum wrote down all those who displeased the duchesse de
Grammont. This lady had no fear of doing all that was necessary to
remove every obstacle to the publication of such infamies.

After M. de Sartines had given us all the details which we desired,
and after I had promised to reconcile him to his master, he went away
delighted with having seen me. Believe me, my friend, it is necessary to
be as handsome as I am, that is to say, as I was, to seduce a lieutenant
of police.



CHAPTER VIII


     The sieur Ledoux--The _lettre de cachet_--The duc de la
     Vrilliere--Madame de Langeac--M. de Maupeou--Louis XV--The
     comte Jean

On that very evening, the king having come to me, I said to him,

"Sire, I have made acquaintance with M. de Sartines."

"What! has he been to make friends with you?"

"Something like it: but he has appeared to me less culpable than I
thought. He had only yielded to the solicitation of my personal enemy."

"You cannot have one at my court, madame; the lieutenant of police would
have done well not to have named her to you."

"Thanks to him, however, I shall now know whom I ought to mistrust. I
know also who is the author of the two scurrilous paragraphs."

"Some scamp, no doubt; some beggarly scoundrel."

"A monsieur Ledoux."

"Ah, I know the fellow. His bad reputation has reached me. It must be
stopped at last."

So saying, Louis XV went to the chimney, and pulled the bell-rope with
so much vehemence that ten persons answered it at once.

"Send for the duc de la Vrilliere; if he be not suitably attired let him
come in his night-gown, no matter so that he appear quickly."

On hearing an order given in this manner a stranger might have supposed
the king crazy, and not intent on imprisoning a miserable libeller. I
interceded in his favor, but Louis XV, delighted at an opportunity
of playing the king at a small cost, told me that it was no person's
business, and he would be dictated to by no one. I was silent, reserving
myself until another opportunity when I could undertake the defence of
the poor devil.

The duc de la Vrilliere arrived, not in a dressing-gown, as the king
had authorized, but in magnificent costume. He piqued himself on his
expenditure, and always appeared superbly attired, altho' the splendor
of his apparel could not conceal the meanness of his look. He was the
oldest secretary of state, and certainly was the least skilful, least
esteemed, least considered. Some time after his death some one said of
him in the presence of the duc d'Ayen, that he had been an unfortunate
man, for he had been all his life the butt of public hatred and
universal contempt. "Rather say," replied the duke, "that he has been a
fortunate man; for if justice had been rendered to him according to his
deserts, he would have been hanged at least a dozen times."

The duc d'Ayen was right: M. de la Vrilliere was a brazen-faced rogue;
a complete thief, without dignity, character, or heart. His cupidity
was boundless: the _lettres de cachet_ emanated from his office, and he
carried on an execrable trade in them. If any person wished to get rid
of a father, brother, or husband, they only had to apply to M. de la
Vrilliere. He sold the king's signature to all who paid ready money for
it. This man inspired me with an invincible horror and repugnance. For
his part, as I was not disgusting, he contented himself with hating me;
he was animated against me by his old and avaricious mistress, madame
de Langeac, alias Subutin. Langeac could not endure me. She felt that
it was better to be the mistress of Louis XV than that of the _petit la
Vrilliere _, for so her lover was called at court. I knew that she was
no friend of mine, and that her lover sided with the Choiseuls against
me; and was consequently the more delighted to see the little scoundrel
come to receive the order for avenging me. He entered with an air of
embarrassment; and whilst he made me a salute as low as to the king,
this latter, in a brief severe tone, ordered him to send the sieur
Ledoux to Saint Lazare forthwith. He departed without reply, and half an
hour afterwards returned, to say that it was done. The king then said to
him,

"Do you know this lady?"

"No, sire."

"Well, I desire you henceforward to have the greatest consideration for
her as my best friend, and whoever wishes to prove his zeal for me, will
honor and cherish her."

The king then invited him to sup with us, and I am sure that during the
whole repast I was the hardest morsel he had to digest.

Some days afterwards I made acquaintance with a person much more
important than the little duke, and destined to play a great part in the
history of France. I mean M. de Maupeou, the late chancellor, who, in
his disgrace, would not resign his charge. M. de Maupeou possessed one
of those firm and superior minds, which, in spite of all obstacles,
change the face of empires. Ardent, yet cool; bold, but reflective; the
clamors of the populace did not astonish, nor did any obstacles arrest
him. He went on in the direct path which his will chalked out. Quitting
the magistracy, he became its most implacable enemy, and after a deadly
combat he came off conqueror. He felt that the moment had arrived for
freeing royalty from the chains which it had imposed on itself. It was
necessary, he has said to me a hundred times, for the kings of France
in past ages to have a popular power on which they could rely for the
overturning of the feudal power. This power they found in the high
magistracy; but since the reign of Louis XIII the mission of the
parliaments had finished, the nobility was reduced, and they became no
less formidable than the enemy whom they had aided in subduing.

"Before fifty years," pursued M. de Maupeou, "kings will be nothing in
France, and parliaments will be everything."

Talented, a good speaker, even eloquent, M. de Maupeou possessed
qualities which made the greatest enterprises successful. He was
convinced that all men have their price, and that it is only to find
out the sum at which they are purchasable.* As brave personally as a
marechal of France, his enemies (and he had many) called him a coarse
and quarrelsome man. Hated by all, he despised men in a body, and jeered
at them individually; but little sensible to the charms of our sex, he
only thought of us by freaks, and as a means of relaxation. This is M.
de Maupeou, painted to the life. As for his person, you know it as well
as I do. I have no need to tell you, that he was little, ugly, and his
complexion was yellow, bordering upon green. It must be owned, however,
that his face, full of thought and intelligence, fully compensated for
all the rest.

     *This gentleman would have been an able coadjutor for Sir
     Robert Walpole.--Trans.

You know how, as first president of the parliament of Paris, he
succeeded his father as vice-chancellor. At the resignation of the
titular M. de Lamoignon*, the elder Maupeou received his letters of
nomination, and as soon as they were registered, he resigned in favor of
his son. The Choiseuls had allowed the latter to be nominated, relying
on finding him a creature. I soon saw that the Choiseuls were mistaken.

     *In September, 1768.  (au.)

It was in the month of October, that Henriette, always my favorite, came
to me with an air of unusual mystery, to say, that a black* and ugly
gentleman wished to see me; that on the usual reply that I was not
visible, he had insisted, and sent, at the same time, a cautiously
sealed note. I took it, opened, and read these words:--

    *i.e., black-haired and/or dressed in black (Gutenberg ed.)

"The chancellor of France wishes to have the honor of presenting his
respectful homage to madame la comtesse du Barry."

"Let him come in," I said to Henriette.

"I will lay a wager, madame, that he comes to ask some favor."

"I believe," replied I, "that he is more frequently the solicited than
the solicitor."

Henriette went out, and in a few minutes led in, thro' the private
corridors which communicated with my apartment, his highness monseigneur
Rene Nicolas Charles Augustin de Maupeou, chevalier and chancellor of
France. As soon as he entered I conceived a good opinion of him, altho'
I had only seen him walk. His step was firm and assured, like that of a
man confident in the resources of his own talents.

"Madame la comtesse du Barry," he said, "would have a right to complain
of me, if I did not come and lay my person at her feet. I had the more
impatience to express to her my devotion, as I feared she had been
prejudiced against me."

"How, monseigneur?"

"The gate by which I entered the ministry--"

"Is not agreeable to me, as being that of my enemies, but I feel assured
that you will not side with them against me."

"Certainly not, madame; it is my wish to give you pleasure in every
thing, and I flatter myself I may merit your friendship."

After many other compliments, the Chancellor asked me, with much
familiarity, when my presentation was to take place, and why it had
not yet occurred. I replied, that the delay arose from the intrigues
of Choiseul, and the king shrunk from the discontent of a handful of
courtiers.

"I am sorry for it," said M. de Maupeou; "in the first place, madame,
because of the interest I take in you, and also because for his majesty,
it would be a means of striking terror into the opposing party. You
know, madame, how annoying parliaments are to all your friends, and
with what bitterness those of Bretagne and Paris, at this moment, are
pursuing the duc d'Aiguillon."

"Do you think," I replied with emotion, "that matters are unfavorable
towards him?"

"I hope not, but he must be warmly supported."

"Ah! I will aid him with all my influence. He is no doubt innocent of
the crimes imputed to him."

"Yes, certainly. He has done no other wrong than to defend the authority
of the crown against the enmity of the parliaments."

We continued some time to talk of parliaments and parliament men: then
we agreed that M. de Maupeou should see me again, accompanied by the duc
d'Aiguillon, who should have the credit of presenting him, and he left
me with as much mystery as he had entered.

When the king came to see me, I said to him, "I have made acquaintance
with your chancellor: he is a very amiable man, and I hope that he will
not conduct himself improperly towards me."

"Where did you see him?"

"Here, sire, and but a short time since."

"He came then to visit you?"

"Yes, in person, that he might obtain the favor of being permitted to
pay his court to me."

"Really what you tell me seems perfectly unaccountable. He has then
burst from the hands of the Choiseuls? It is amusing. Poor Choiseul,
when soliciting for Maupeou, he most tremendously deceived himself."

"At least, sire, you must own that he has given you no fool."

"True. The chancellor is a man full of talents, and I do not doubt but
that he will restore to my crown that power which circumstances have
deprived it of. However, if you see him familiarly, advise him not to
persuade me to extreme measures. I wish all should work for the best,
without violent courses and without painful struggles."

These last words proved to me the natural timidity of the king.

"I knew very well," added the king, "that Maupeou would not prove a man
for the Choiseuls. The main point is, that he should be mine, and I am
content."

Louis XV was then satisfied with the chancellor, but he was not equally
so with the comte Jean.

"I do not like," said he to me, "your Du Barry monkey. He is a
treacherous fellow, who has betrayed his party, and I hope some of these
mornings we shall hear that the devil has wrung his neck."



CHAPTER IX


     The king of Denmark--The courtesans of Paris--The duc de
     Choiseul and the bishop of Orleans--Witty repartees of the
     king of Denmark--His visit to madame du Barry--"The court of
     king Petaud," a satire--Letter of the duc d'Aiguillon to
     Voltaire--The duchesse de Grammont mystified--Unpublished
     letter of Voltaire's

From this moment, and in spite of all that comte Jean could say
against it, a new counsellor was admitted to my confidence. He was the
chancellor. The duc d'Aiguillon and he were on very good terms, and
these two, with the abbe Teray, of whom I shall speak to you presently,
formed a triumvirate, which governed France from the disgrace of M. de
Choiseul to the death of the king. But before I enter upon a detail
of those politics, of which you will find that I understand something,
allow me to continue the history of my presentation, and also to give
some account of Christian VII.

You know that his Danish majesty was expected with anything but pleasure
by the king of France, and with curiosity by the rest of the nation. Men
and women were impatient to see a king, under twenty years of age, who
was traversing Europe with a design of attaining instruction. Married
to a lovely woman, Caroline Mathilde, he had left her on the instant,
without suspecting that this separation would prove fatal to both. At
Paris, the real character of this prince was not known, but a confused
report of his gallantry was spread abroad, on which all the courtesans
of note in the city began to try all arts to please him, each hoping
to attract him to herself, and dip into his strong box. M. de Sartines
amused us one evening, the king and myself, by telling us of the plans
of these ladies. Some were going to meet his Danish majesty, others
were to await him at the barrier, and two of the most renowned,
mesdemoiselles Gradi and Laprairie, had their portraits painted, to send
to the young monarch as soon as he should arrive.

Christian VII entered Paris the latter end of the month of October,
1768. MM. de Duras complimented him in the king's name, and informed him
that they were charged with the office of receiving his commands during
his residence in Paris. The interview of the king and the illustrious
stranger took place at Versailles. Christian VII came thither in the
state-carriage, and was conducted by the duc de Duras into the apartment
of the dauphin, where he remained until Louis XV was prepared to receive
him. I had heard much discussion about this reception. It was said, that
to make a distinction between sovereign of a petty state and that of the
superb kingdom of France, it was requisite that the former should await
for some time the audience which the latter accorded. I am sure that
when the peace with Frederick was agitated, the face of Louis XV was not
more grave and serious than during this puerile debate about etiquette.

The duc de Choiseul, who had the control of foreign affairs, was in the
apartment to receive his Danish majesty, with his colleagues, the duc
de Praslin, the comte de Saint-Florentin (whom I have called by
anticipation duc de la Vrilliere), M. Bertin, M. Mainon d'Invau,
controller of the finances, and M. de Jarente, bishop of Orleans and
one of the ministry. He kept himself somewhat in the background, as
tho' from humility. The duc de Choiseul came up to him, and said, with a
smile,

"Monseigneur, what brings you in contact with a heretic?"

"To watch for the moment of penitence."

"But what will you do if it become necessary to teach him his _credo_?"

M. de Jarente understood the joke, and was the first to jest upon his
own unepiscopal conduct, replying to the duc de Choiseul,

"There is a person present who knows it; he will whisper it to me, and,
if necessary, the _Veni Creator_ also."

The king of Denmark was congratulated by the duc de Choiseul,
who discharged this duty with as much grace as wit. Afterwards M.
Desgranges, master of the ceremonies, having announced that Louis XV was
visible, the king of Denmark, preceded by his gentlemen and the French
ministers and lords, went to the king's cabinet, in which two arm-chairs
precisely alike were prepared, but his majesty of Denmark positively
refused to be seated. He entered into conversation, and felicitated
himself on seeing a monarch, whose renown filled Europe, and whom
he should take as his model. During this conversation Christian VII
displayed the greatest amiability. Our king, speaking to him, said, "I
am old enough to be your father"; to which he replied, "All my conduct
towards you shall be that of a son." This was thought admirable; and
at the termination of the interview Louis XV appeared charmed with his
brother of Denmark. "He is a complete Frenchman," said he to me, "and I
should be sorry if he left me dissatisfied."

That same evening Christian VII visited monseigneur the dauphin, in whom
he did not find the urbanity of his grandfather. The conversation was
short and abridged out of regard to our prince, who only stammered,
without being able to find one polished phrase. Never was there in his
youth a more timid and awkwardly conducted prince than the present king.
I shall mention him and his brothers hereafter, but will now direct my
immediate attention to the king of Denmark. He supped the same evening
with Louis XV at a table with four and twenty ladies of the court,
selected from amongst those most celebrated for the charms of their
persons or their wit. As his Danish majesty was greatly struck with
madame de Flaracourt, the king asked him how old the lady might be in
his opinion.

"Thirty, perhaps," was the reply.

"Thirty, brother! she is fifty."

"Then age has no influence at your court." I shall not copy the
"_Gazette de France_" to tell you of the sojourn of Christian VII at
Paris. I am not writing the journal of this prince but of myself. The
king one day said to me,

"My brother of Denmark has expressed to the duc de Duras a great desire
to pay his respects to you, if you will accede to his wishes. I leave
you entirely sovereign mistress of yourself, not without some fear
however that the young king will steal away your heart from me."

"Ah, sire," I replied, "that is an unjust suspicion; I should be angry
about it if it were not a joke, and would refuse to see the king of
Denmark did I not know how fully you are assured of my attachment to
you."

"I should not be so jealous, madame, if I did not set so much value on
it," was the reply of the king, as he kissed my hand.

The duc de Duras came the next day to inform me of the request of his
new king. It was agreed, in order to keep the interview secret, that
I should receive him at my own mansion in the Rue de la Jussienne,
and that he should come there without suite, and with the strictest
incognito. At the day and hour agreed he entered my house, escorting two
strangers of admirable presence. One was the king of Denmark, under
the name of comte de ------, and the other a nobleman of his suite.
Christian VII appeared to me a very handsome man. He had large and
singularly expressive eyes; too much so, perhaps, for their brilliancy
was not of good augury; and I was not surprised at hearing subsequently
that his reason had abandoned him, altho' he possessed and exerted his
wit most perfectly during our conversation, in which he displayed the
greatest gallantry. I could not reproach him with one single expression
that was objectionable, altho' the subject of conversation was delicate.
He discoursed of the feelings of the king towards me, and yet said not a
word that was unsuited or out of place, nothing but what was in the best
taste, and expressed with the utmost delicacy. I asked him if the ladies
of Denmark were handsome. "I thought, madame," was his reply, "until
now, that the ladies of my kingdom were the most lovely in Europe."

We did not talk of myself only: Christian VII spoke of Paris with
enthusiasm. "It is the capital of the world," he remarked, "and our
states are but the provinces." He sought out our most celebrated
_savants_ and _literati_, and was particularly delighted with
d'Alembert, Diderot, la Harpe, and M. the comte de Buffon. He greatly
regretted that Voltaire was not in Paris, and expressed his great desire
to see at Ferney the great genius (as he termed him) who instructed and
amused the world. He appeared weary of the fetes which were given,
and especially with the deadly-lively company of the two Duras. It was
enough to kill you to have only one of them, and you may imagine the
torture of being bored with both. The duke had promised Louis XV to be
as amusing as possible too! After a conversation of three hours, which
his majesty (of course) said had appeared but of a moment, he left me
delighted with his person, wit, and manners.

When Louis XV saw me, he inquired my opinion of his Danish majesty.

"He is," I replied, "a well-educated king, and that they say is a
rarity."

"True," said Louis XV, "there are so many persons who are interested in
our ignorance, that it is a miracle if we escape out of their hands as
reasonable beings."

I went on to tell the king our conversation.

"Ah," cried he, "here is one who will increase the vanity of the
literary tribe: they want it, certainly. All these wits are our natural
born enemies; and think themselves above us; and the more we honor them,
the greater right do they assume to censure and despise us."

This was the usual burden of his song: he hated men of learning.
Voltaire especially was his detestation, on account of the numerous
epigrams which this great man had written against him; and Voltaire
had just given fresh subject of offence by publishing "_La Cour du Roi
Petaud_" ("The Court of the King Petaud," ) a satire evidently directed
as strongly against the king as your humble servant. M. de Voltaire had
doubtless been encouraged to write this libel by the Choiseul party.
He was at a distance, judged unfavorably of me, and thought he could
scourge me without compromising himself.

It was comte Jean who brought me these verses, in which there was less
poetry than malevolence. I read them, was indignant, and wept. The duc
d'Aiguillon came, and finding me in tears, inquired the cause.

"Here," said I, giving him the poem, "see if you can bear so gross an
insult." He took the paper, cast his eyes over it, and having folded it
up, put it into his pocket.

"It was ill done," said he, "to show this to you.  I knew of it
yesterday, and came now to talk with you of it."

"I rely on you to do me justice."

"_Misericorde!_" cried the duke, "would you lose yourself in the eyes
of all France? You would place yourself in a fine situation by declaring
yourself the persecutrix of Voltaire. Only an enemy could have thus
advised you."

"That enemy was comte Jean."

"Then your imprudence equals your zeal. Do you not perceive the
advantage it would give to your adversaries were we to act in this
manner? To the hatred of the court would be united that of the
_literati_, women, and young persons. Voltaire is a god, who is not to
be smitten without sacrilege."

"Must I then tamely submit to be beaten?"

"Yes, for the moment. But it will not last long; I have just written
this letter to M. de Voltaire, that peace may be made between you:--

"SIR,--The superiority of your genius places you amongst the number of
the potentates of Europe. Every one desires, not only to be at peace
with you, but even, if it be possible, to obtain your esteem. I flatter
myself with being included in the ranks of your admirers; my uncle has
spoken to you many times of my attachment to your person, and I embrace
the opportunity of proving this by a means that now presents itself.

"Persons in whom you place too much confidence have spread abroad, under
your name, copies of a poem, entitled '_La Cour du Roi Petaud._' In
this, wherein insult is cast on a personage who should be exempt from
such offence, is also outraged, in a most indecent way, a lovely female,
whom you would adore as we do, if you had the happiness to know her. Is
it for the poet of the lover of Gabrielle to carry desolation into the
kingdom of the Graces?

"Your correspondents use you ill by leaving you in ignorance, that this
young person has immense favor here; that we are all at her feet; that
she is all powerful, and her anger is to be particularly avoided. She
is the more to be propitiated, as yesterday, in Presence of a certain
person whom your verses had greatly irritated, she took up your defence
with as much grace as generosity. You see, sir, that you ought not to be
on bad terms with her.

"My uncle allows me to see, as one of the initiated, what you call your
scraps, which are delicious feasts to us. I read them to the lady in
question, who takes great delight in reciting, or hearing others recite,
your verses, and she begs you will send her some as a proof of your
repentance. Under these circumstances, if your bellicose disposition
urges you on to war, we hope, before you continue it, that you will
loyally and frankly declare it.

"In conclusion, be assured that I shall defend you to my utmost, and am
for life,

"Yours, etc."

Whilst we were awaiting Voltaire's reply, I determined to avenge myself
on the duchesse de Grammont, who had encouraged him in his attack; and
thus did I serve this lady. Persuaded that she did not know the writing
of his Danish majesty, I wrote the following letter to her:--

"MADAME LA DUCHESSE,--I have struggled to this time to avoid confessing
to you how I am subdued. Happy should I be could I throw myself at your
feet. My rank alone must excuse my boldness. Nothing would equal my
joy if this evening, at the theatre at madame de Villeroi's, you would
appear with blue feathers in your head-dress. I do not add my name; it
is one of those which should not be found at the bottom of a declaration
of love."

In spite of all her penetration, the duchesse de Grammont did not
perceive, in the emphatic tone of this letter, that it was a trick.
Her self-love made her believe that a woman of more than forty could be
pleasing to a king not yet twenty. She actually went in the evening to
madame de Villeroi's dressed in blue, with a blue plumed head-dress. She
was placed next to his Danish majesty. Christian VII addressed her in
most courteous terms, but not one word of love.

The duchesse imagining that the prince was timid, looked at him with
eyes of tenderness, and endeavored to attract and encourage him by all
means she could devise, but the monarch did not understand her. The
duchesse then addressed a few words, which she hoped would lead to
an explanation, but, to her dismay, his majesty did not appear to
understand her. Madame de Grammont was furious at this affair. The duc
d'Aiguillon, who was close to her, had seen all, heard all, and related
particulars to me. The same day I told the king of my trick and
its success. He laughed excessively, and then scolded me for at all
compromising his Danish majesty.

"How, sire?" was my reply. "I did not sign his name; I have not forged
his signature. The vanity of the duchesse has alone caused all the
ridiculous portion of this joke. So much the worse for her if she did
not succeed."

I did not, however, limit my revenge to this. A second letter, in
the same hand, was addressed to my luckless enemy. This time she was
informed that she been made a butt of, and mystified. I learned from M.
de Sartines, who, after our compact, gave me details of all, the methods
she had pursued to detect the author of these two epistles, and put
a termination to all these inquiries, by denouncing myself to M. de
Sartines; who then gave such a turn to the whole matter, that the
duchesse could never arrive at the truth.

Voltaire, in the meantime, was not slow in reply; and as I imagine that
you will not be sorry to read his letter, I transcribe it for you:--

"MONSIEUR LE DUC,--I am a lost, destroyed man. If I had strength enough
to fly, I do not know where I should find courage to take refuge. I!
Good God! I am suspected of having attacked that which, in common with
all France, I respect! When there only remains to me the smallest power
of utterance, but enough to chant a _De profundis,_ that I should employ
it in howling at the most lovely and amiable of females! Believe me,
monsieur le duc, that it is not at the moment when a man is about to
render up his soul, that a man of my good feeling would outrage the
divinity whom he adores. No, I am not the author of the '_Cour du Roi
Petaud._' The verses of this rhapsody are not worth much, it is true;
but indeed they are not mine: they are too miserable, and of too bad a
style. All this vile trash spread abroad in my name, all those pamphlets
without talent, make me lose my senses, and now I have scarcely enough
left to defend myself with. It is on you, monsieur le duc, that I rely;
do not refuse to be the advocate of an unfortunate man unjustly accused.
Condescend to say to this young lady, that I have been before embroiled
with madame de Pompadour, for whom I professed the highest esteem;
tell her, that at the present day especially, the favorite of Caesar is
sacred for me; that my heart and pen are hers, and that I only aspire to
live and die under her banner.

"As to the scraps you ask for, I have not at this moment any suitable.
Only the best viands are served up at the table of the goddesses. If
I had any I would present them to the person of whom you speak to me.
Assure her, that one day the greatest merit of my verse will be to have
them recited by her lips; and entreat her, until she bestows immortality
on me, to permit me to prostrate myself at her beautiful feet.

"I will not conclude my letter, monsieur le duc, without thanking you
a thousand times for the advice you have given me. This proof of your
kindness will, if possible augment the sincere attachment I bear to you.
I salute you with profound respect."

As it is bold to hold the pen after having transcribed anything of M. de
Voltaire's, I leave off here for to-day.



CHAPTER X


     When is the presentation to take place?--Conversation on
     this subject with the king--M. de Maupeou and M. de la
     Vauguyon--Conversation on the same subject with the king and
     the duc de Richelieu--M. de la Vrilliere--M. Bertin---Louis
     XV and the comtesse--The king's promise--The fire-works, an
     anecdote--The marquise de Castellane--M. de Maupeou at the
     duc de Choiseul's--The duchesse de Grammont

In spite of the love of the duchesse de Grammont, the king of Denmark
departed at last. Louis XV having resumed his former habits, I began
to meditate seriously on my presentation; and my friends employed
themselves to the utmost in furthering my desires and insuring my
triumph.

The chancellor, who each day became more attached to my interests,
opened the campaign. One day, when the king was in a rage with the
parliaments, the chancellor seized the opportunity to tell him that
the cabal, who were opposed to my presentation, testified so much
resistance, under the idea, and in the hope, that they would be
supported by the parliaments of Paris.

"If your majesty," added the chancellor, "had less condescension towards
these malcontents, they would fear your authority more."

"You will see," replied the king, "that it will be their audacity which
will urge me on to a step, which otherwise I should wish to avoid."

Whilst the hatred which M. de Maupeou bore towards the parliaments
served me in this way, the love of M. de la Vauguyon for the Jesuits
turned to even more advantage. The good duke incessantly talked to me of
his dear Jesuits; and I as constantly replied, that my influence would
not be salutary until after my presentation, M. de la Vauguyon had
sense enough to perceive the embarrassment of my situation, and saw
that before I could think of others I must think of myself. Having taken
"sweet counsel" with the powerful heads of his company, he freely gave
me all his influence with the king.

Fortune sent me an auxiliary not less influential than these two
gentlemen; I mean the marechal duc de Richelieu. In the month of
January, 1769, he returned from his government of Guienne to enter on
service. He had much credit with the king, and this (would you believe
it?) resulted from his reputation as a man of intrigue. He told the
king every thing that came into his head: he told him one day, that the
Choiseuls boasted that he, the king of France, never dared introduce his
mistress into the state apartments at Versailles.

"Yes," added the duke, "they boast so loudly, that nothing else is
talked of in the province; and at Bordeaux, for instance, there is one
merchant who, on the strength of the enemies of the comtesse, has made a
bet that she will never be presented."

"And why do you not imprison these persons?" inquired the king, angrily.

"Because, sire, it appears to me injustice to punish the echo of the
fooleries of Paris."

"I will conduct myself as regards the presentation of madame du Barry
in the manner which I think best. But is it not an inconceivable
contrariety, that one party should wish it with the utmost desire,
and another place every obstacle in the way? In truth, I am very
unfortunate, and a cruel tyranny is exercised over me."

The duc de Richelieu, not wishing to appear as one of the tyrants of the
king, gave a different turn to the conversation.

My presentation was, however, a matter of first-rate importance to me
and to my partizans, and the duc de la Vrilliere was gained over to my
side, by making him believe that the king would yield to my desires, and
that then I should remember all those who opposed my elevation. The duc
d'Aiguillon also drew over to my party M. Bertin, who bore no love to
the Choiseuls, and who saw that the preponderance of interest was on
my side of the scale. When I was assured of a considerable number of
defenders, I thought I might venture on the master stroke, and thus I
went to work.

One evening the king was with me, and the MM. de Maupeou and de
Richelieu were there also. We were discoursing of different things, and
the king was perfectly tranquillized, little anticipating the scene that
was in store for him. I rose suddenly from my arm-chair, and going up to
his majesty, after a profound courtesy cast myself at his feet. Louis XV
would have raised me, but I said,

"No, I will remain where I am until you have accorded me the favor I
ask."

"If you remain in this posture I shall place myself in a similar one."

"Well, then, since you will not have me at your knees I will place
myself on them"; and I seated myself in his lap without ceremony.

"Listen to me, sire," I said, "and repeat what I say to the king of
France word for word. He must authorize my presentation; for else, some
fine day, in the presence of the whole court, I will go to the state
apartments, and try whether I shall be repulsed at the door."

"Will she have the boldness?" inquired the king to the chancellor.

"I have no doubt of it, sire. A female, young, beautiful, honored with
your kindness, may venture to do anything."

"Is it not distressing to me," I added, "that, graced with your
majesty's favors, I remain thus concealed, whilst women whom you detest
annoy you with their presence."

"Madame is right," replied the duc de Richelieu, "and I see that you
look for her every evening where she is not, and where she ought to be."

"What! you too, duc de Richelieu, do you join the cry of the
chancellor?"

"I would tear out the eyes of these gentlemen," I added, "if they
thought differently from me."

"Oh," said the king, laughing, "this punishment would not be one for M.
Maupeou: justice ought to be blind: and as for you, M. de Richelieu, you
have your _baton_ left."

"Which he has nobly gained," I replied, "by fighting against your
majesty's enemies, and of which he still continues worthy, by now
defending me from my foes."

"This rebellion," said the king, "cannot last, and I see myself
compelled to hold a _lit de justice_ (a judicial sitting or bed)."

"And I swear to you, that I will receive nobody into mine until I have
been presented."

This sally amused the king, who said, "Well, since it must be so, you
shall be presented."

At this I leaped on the king's neck, giving a cry which might have been
heard by my rivals. After that, I advanced to the two gentlemen who had
advocated my cause so well, extending a hand to each, which they took
and kissed with great gallantry.

Louis XV became thoughtful, and continued to mutter between his teeth,
"I wash my hands of it--they will cry out, they will clamor, but it must
be so." I saw the feelings of the king, and took care not to allow him
to go away in this state. Whilst I sought to compose him by my caresses,
the duc de Richelieu told us one of his thousand and one adventures,
which he told so well. I know not if it will please you, but such as it
is I shall give you an abridgment of it.

"I was, you know," he began, "a very good-looking, a very wild fellow:
women have no objection to this. I was travelling, and in my way thro'
D----, M., the intendant of the city, insisted on my taking up my abode
at his house. His lady added her entreaties, and I consented. I must
tell you that the lady was handsome. I had passed the night with her;
but when, on the next morning, as I sought to go out of her apartment, I
found the outer door double locked and bolted. I looked round me on all
sides, but found no egress. Whilst I was lamenting this with the lady's
_femme-de-chambre_, who was nearly as much distressed as her mistress,
I saw in a detached closet a great many machines covered with paper, and
all of different shapes. On inquiry, I was informed that the following
Monday was the lady's birthday, which they were to celebrate with
fireworks. I looked at the beautiful fusees and brilliant suns with
much admiration. Suddenly, thinking of the lady's honor which might be
compromised, I took a light and set fire to a Roman candle; in a
moment the whole was in flames, and everybody took alarm. Great was the
consternation in the house, which was turned out of windows; and in the
uproar, the house-door being broken open, a crowd of persons rushed in;
I ran this way and that way; everybody admired and praised my exertions.
I was compelled to quit the house at last, and ordered my carriage,
whilst M. the intendant was thanking me for the vast service I had
rendered him. I assure you, sire, that I never laughed more heartily."*

     * The duc de Richelieu preserved his coolness and talent at
     repartee in the most trivial circumstances. The story is
     well known of the man who came to ask for his aid, saying
     they were related.  "How?" asked the duke.  "Sir, by Adam."
     "Give this man a penny," said the duke, turning to a
     gentleman of his train; "and if all of his relations give
     him as much he will soon be a richer man than I am."

     If our readers will turn to "Joe Miller," Page 45, they will
     find this jest attributed to the witty duke of Buckingham.
     It is a very good joke for a duke, but savors more of a
     desire to be witty than to be charitable. (translator)

This tale amused the king, and M. de Richelieu assured him that he had
never told it before. A thousand considerations had induced him to keep
it to himself until the present time. "But now," said he, "the third
generation of madame l'intendante is no longer young, and I have no fear
of being called out to fight a duel."

Next day there was a general rumor of my presentation. My friends
asserted that I had the king's promise. This was imprudent on their
part, and they injured my interest whilst they flattered my vanity. They
put the Choiseul cabal to work, who intrigued so well that not a person
could be found who would perform the office of introductress. You
know the custom: the presentation is effected by the intermediation of
another lady, who conducts the person to be presented to the princesses,
and introduces her. This custom had passed into a law, and it would have
been too humiliating to me to have dispensed with it.

This was a dire blow for me: it distressed me sadly, and I wept over it
with my friends. The duc de Richelieu said to me,

"With money and promises everything can be managed at court. There is no
place where they know better how to value complaisance, and the price at
which it is sold. Do not give yourself any uneasiness; we shall find the
lady we want."

And we did find her, but her compliance was dearly bought. Two ladies
who were applied to stipulated for most outrageous conditions. One, the
marquise de Castellane, consented to present me, but demanded that she
should be created a duchess, and have a gift of five hundred thousand
livres: the other, whose name I forget, asked for her husband the order
of the Holy Ghost and a government, a regiment for her son, and for
herself I forget what. These ladies seemed to think, like Don Quixote
and Sancho Panza, that governments and five hundred thousand livres
were to be picked up on the highway. In truth, they spoke out without
disguise.

At this juncture the chancellor had a singular conversation concerning
me with the Choiseuls. He had been one morning to call on the duke, and
whilst they were discoursing, the duchesse de Grammont came into her
brother's apartment, and entered at once into conversation.

"Ah, my lord, I am glad to see you. Your new friends carry you off from
your old ones. You are wrong to adore the rising sun."

"That was the idolatry of a great number of persons: but I beg of you to
be so very kind as not to speak to me in figures, if you would wish me
to understand you."

"Oh, you play off the ignorant. You know as well as I do what I mean,
and your daily visits to this _fille_."

"Which, madame? There are so many at court!"

This sarcastic reply made the brother and sister smile; both of them
being fully competent to understand the merit of an epigram. The duke
fearing lest the duchess should go too far, judging by what she had
already said, thus addressed him:

"You are, then, one of the adorers of the comtesse du Barry?"

"Yes, monsieur le duc; and would to God that, for your own interest, you
would be so too!"

"My brother set foot in the house of this creature!"

"Why not, madame? We see good company there; the prince de Soubise, the
ducs de la Trimouille, de la Vauguyon, Duras, Richelieu, d'Aiguillon,
and many others, not to mention the king of France. A gentleman may be
seen in such company without any disgrace."

"Monsieur le chevalier," replied the duke, "to speak candidly to you,
allow me to ask, if any one who would have the friendship of our house
would be seen in that of the lady in question?"

"Pardon me, duke; that is not the question. Allow me, in turn, to ask
you, why those of your house should not go there? This, I think, is the
real question."

"You offer us a splendid alliance!" said the duchess with anger.

"I offer nothing, madame: I only inquire. For my part, I see no
legitimate motive for this proscription of madame du Barry."

"A woman without character!"

"Character! Why, madame, who has any in these days? M. de Crebillon the
younger would be at a loss to tell us where to find it."

This reply made the duke and his sister smile again. The chancellor went
on thus:

"It appears to me that persons were less difficult in the times of
madame de Pompadour."

"But a creature who has been so low in society!"

"Have you seen her so, madame? And supposing it has been the case, do we
interdict all ladies of conduct not less blamable from an introduction
at court. How many can you enumerate, madame, who have led a life much
more scandalous? Let us count them on our fingers. First, the marechale
de Luxembourg, one; then--"

"Then the comtesse de Choiseul, my sister-in-law," added the duke; "we
know it as well as you, sir. But this is not the matter in question. You
are not ignorant that our enemies surround this madame du Barry; and it
is of your alliance with them that I complain."

"You see everything with a jaundiced eye, monsieur le duc. But if you
fear the influence of this lady with the king, why do you not present
yourself at her apartments? She would be delighted to receive you."

"No, no!" cried the duchess, "my brother will never present himself
to such a creature. If he would degrade himself so low, I would never
forgive him as long as I live. Since you show your gratitude for what
has been done for you by leaguing yourself with this woman, tell her
from me that I detest her, and that I will never rest until I have sent
her back again to her dunghill."

"Madame," replied the chancellor, "I will evince my gratitude to the
duke by not delivering such a message"; and the chancellor went out.

M. de Maupeou came to tell me the whole of this conversation, which
_Chon_ wrote down under his dictation, that I might show it to the king.
You will see in my next letter what resulted from all this, and how the
ill-timed enmity of the Choiseuls served my interests most materially.



CHAPTER XI


     A word concerning the duchesse de Choiseul--The apartment of
     the Comte de Noailles--The Noailles--Intrigues for
     presentation--The comte de Bearn--M. Morand once more--Visit
     of the comtesse Bearn to the comtesse du Barry--
     Conversation--Interested complaisance The king and the
     comtesse du Barry--Dispute and reconciliation

I showed the king this conversation, in which I had so shamefully
vilified by the duchesse de Grammont. Louis XV was very much inclined
to testify his disapprobation to this lady, but was withheld by the
consideration he felt for the duke and (particularly) the duchesse de
Choiseul. This latter lady was not beloved by her husband, but her noble
qualities, her good heart, made her an object of adoration to the whole
court. You could not speak to any person of madame de Choiseul without
hearing an eulogium in reply. The king himself was full of respect
towards her; so much so, that, on the disgrace of the duke, he in some
sort asked her pardon for the chagrin which he had caused her. Good
conduct is no claim to advancement at court, but it procures the esteem
of the courtiers. Remember, my friend, this moral maxim: there is not
one of greater truth in my whole journal.

The king, unable to interpose his authority in a woman's quarrel, was
yet determined on giving a striking proof of the attachment he bore to
me. I had up to this period occupied Lebel's apartments in the chateau:
it was not befitting my station, and the king thought he would give me
those of madame de Pompadour, to which I had some claim. This apartment
was now occupied by the comte de Noailles, governor of the chateau, who,
as great fool as the rest of his family, began to exclaim most lustily
when the king's will was communicated to him. He came to his majesty
complaining and lamenting. The king listened very quietly to his list
of grievances; and when he had moaned and groaned out his dolorous tale,
his majesty said to him,

"My dear count, who built the chateau of Versailles?"

"Why, sire, your illustrious grandfather."

"Well, then, as I am at home, I mean to be master. You may establish the
seat of your government where you will; but in two hours the place must
be free. I am in earnest."

The comte de Noailles departed much disconcerted, took away his
furniture, and the same evening I installed myself in the apartments.
You must think that this was a fresh cause of chagrin, and created me
more enemies. There are certain families who look upon the court as
their hereditary domain: the Noailles was one of them. However, there
is no grounds of pretension to such a right. Their family took its rise
from a certain Adhemar de Noailles, _capitoul_ of Toulouse, ennobled,
according to all appearance, by the exercise of his charge in 1459. The
grandfather of these Noailles was a domestic of M. de Turenne's, and his
family was patronized at court by madame de Maintenon. Everybody knows
this. But to return to my presentation.

M. de Maupeou, whose good services I can never sufficiently vaunt,
came to me one day, and said, "I think that I have found a lady
_presenteuse_. I have a dame of quality who will do what we want."

"Who is it?" said I, with joy.

"A comtesse d'Escarbagnas, a litigious lady, with much ambition and
avarice. You must see her, talk with her, and understand each other."

"But where can we see her?"

"That is easy enough. She claims from the house of Saluces a property of
three hundred thousand livres: she is very greedy for money. Send some
one to her, who shall whisper in her ear that I see you often, and that
your protection can serve her greatly in her lawsuit: she will come to
you post haste."

I approved the counsel of the chancellor; and, in concert with comte
Jean, I once again made use of the ministry of the good M. Morand, whom
I had recompensed largely for his good and loyal services. This was,
however, the last he ever rendered me; for I learned some months after
my presentation that he had died of indigestion: a death worthy of such
a life and such a man.

M. Morand, after having found out the attorney of madame the comtesse
de Bearn, went to him under some pretext, and then boasted of my vast
influence with the chancellor. The lawyer, to whom madame de Bearn was
to pay a visit on that very day, did not fail to repeat what M. Morand
had told him. The next day the comtesse, like a true litigant, called
upon him: she related her affair to him, and begged him to use his
interest with me.

"I would do it with pleasure," said the worthy, "if I did not think it
better that you should see the comtesse du Barry yourself. I can assure
you that she will be delighted to aid you."

Madame de Bearn then came to me with M. Morand. Gracious heavens! how
simple we were to take so much pains with this lady: had we known her
better we should not have been so long in coming to the point. Scarcely
any thing was said at this first visit: I contented myself with assuring
her of my good will. On the same day the vicomte Adolphe du Barry
told his father that that the young de Bearn had asked him the evening
before, if I had found a _stepmother_ to present me; that in case I had
not, his mother would not refuse such a service, should it be desired
by the king. Comte Jean and I perfectly understood the lady. She came
again, and I renewed the expression of my desire to be useful to her.
She replied in a hackneyed phrase, that she should be charmed to prove
her gratitude to me. I took her word.

"Madame," said I to her, "you cannot be ignorant that I ardently desire
to be presented. My husband has sent in his proofs of nobility, which
have been received; I now only want a _marraine_ (godmother); if you
will officiate in that capacity, I shall owe you a debt of gratitude all
my life."

"Madame, I am at the king's orders."

"But, madame, the king has nothing to do with this. I wish to be
presented; will you be my introductress?"

"Madame, the first wish of my heart is to be agreeable to you; I only
desire that the king indicate in some way, no matter how trifling, his
will on this point."

"Well, then," I exclaimed, with impatience, "I see you will not give me
a direct reply. Why should you wish the king to interfere in what does
not concern him? Is it your intention to oblige me; yes or no?"

"Yes, madame, certainly; but you must be aware of the tremendous cabal
which is raised against you. Can I contend against it alone, and who
will sustain me thro' it?"

"I will to the full extent of my power as long as I am here, and the
king will always do so. I can assure you, that he will be grateful for
your exertions in my behalf."

"I should like to have half a line from his majesty as a protection and
assurance."

"And that you will not get. The king's signature must not be compromised
in this affair, and I do not think I ought to ask for it; let us
therefore, madame, cease this discourse, since you ask such terms for
your complaisance."

The comtesse de Bearn rose; I did the same; and we parted mutually
dissatisfied with each other.

My friends, my brother-in-law, and his sisters, impatiently awaited the
result of my conversation with madame de Bearn. I told them all that
had passed; giving my opinion of this lady as I thought her--a malicious
provoking creature.

"How soon you torment yourself," said the chancellor to me. "Do you not
see that this woman wants a price to be bidden for her? She is yours,
body and soul, but first of all she must be paid."

"Let that be no obstacle," said comte Jean, "we will give her money, but
present us she must."

On this it was decided, that, on the following morning, my
brother-in-law should go to Paris to find M. Morand, and get him to
undertake the arrangement.

The next day my brother-in-law went to M. Morand's, and when he had
disclosed his message concerning the comtesse, the good Morand began to
laugh. He told the count, that the previous evening this lady had sent
for him; and, on going to her house, madame de Bearn, as a set-off
against the inconveniences which might result to her from being the
instrument of my presentation, had stipulated for certain compensations;
such, for instance, as a sum of two hundred thousand livres, a written
promise of a regiment for her son, and for herself an appointment in the
establishment of the future _dauphine_. This was the point aimed at
by all the ambitious courtiers. Comte Jean thought these conditions
preposterous. He had a _carte blanche_ from me, and desired M. Morand to
offer the lady one hundred thousand livres, and to add an assurance that
the king should be importuned to place young Bearn advantageously, and
to station the mother to her wishes; and thereupon my brother-in-law
returned to Versailles.

The comte Jean had scarcely returned an hour, when we received a
letter from M. Morand, stating, that he had gone, in consequence of the
instructions of comte Jean, to the comtesse de Bearn; that he had found
the lady pliant enough on the first point, and disposed to content
herself with the half of the sum originally demanded; that on point the
second, I mean the appointments of herself and son, she would come to no
compromise, and stuck hard and fast to the written promise of the king;
that he, Morand, thought this an obstacle not to be overcome unless
we subscribed to her wishes. This letter put me in an excessively
ill-humor. I saw my presentation deferred till doom's day, or, at least,
adjourned _sine die_. I questioned my friends: the unanimous advice was
that I ought to mention it to the king at one of his evening visits; and
I determined to do so without loss of time.

When his majesty came I received him very graciously, and then said to
him,

"Congratulate me, sire; I have found my godmother."

"Ah, so much the better." (I know that, at the bottom of his heart, he
said "so much the _worse_.")

"And who," asked the king, with impatience, "may the lady be?"

"Madame de Bearn, a lady of quality in her own right, and of high
nobility on her husband's side."

"Yes, he was a _garde du corps_, and the son has just left the pages.
Ah! she will present you then. That's well; I shall feel favored by
her."

"Would it not be best, sire, to tell her so yourself?"

"Yes, yes, certainly; but after the ceremony."

"And why not previously?"

"Why? because I do not wish to appear to have forced your presentation."

"Well, then," I replied, striking the floor with my foot, "you will not
do for me what you would do for a woman who is a complete stranger to
you. Many thanks for your excessive kindness."

"Well, well, do not scold. Anger does not become you."

"No more than this indifference suits you; it is cruel. If you recede
from saying a word, what will you do when I tell you of the conditions
of madame de Bearn?"

"What does the good comtesse ask for?"

"Things past conception."

"What?"

"She has stipulations unlimited."

"But what are they then?"

"A hundred thousand livres for herself."

"What, only that? We will grant so much."

"Then a regiment for her son."

"Oh, he is the wood they make colonels of, and if he behave well--"

"But then! She wishes to be annexed in some station or other to the
household of the future _dauphine_."

"Oh, that is impossible: all the selections have been made: but we will
make an equivalent by placing one of her family about the person of one
of the princes, my grandson. Is this all?"

"Yes, sire, that is all, with one small formality excepted. This lady,
who is one of much punctilio, only considers _written_ engagements as
binding. She wishes for one word in your majesty's hand-writing--"

"A most impertinent woman!" cried the king, walking with rapid strides
up and down my room.-- "She has dared not to believe me on my word!
Writing!--signature! She mistrusts me as she would the lowest scribbler
of France. A writing! My signature! My grandfather, Louis XIV, repented
having given his to Charost. I will not commit a similar error."

"But, sire, when a prince has a real desire to keep his word, it is of
little import whether he gives it in writing."

At these words, Louis XV frowned sternly, but as he had the best sense
in the world, he saw that he was wrong; and having no reply to make, he
determined to flee away. I ran after him, and taking him by the arm, he
said, with assumed anger, which did not deceive me:--

 "Leave me, madame, you have offended my honor."

"Well, then, monsieur la France," replied I, assuming also a scolding
tone, "I will give you satisfaction. Choose your time, weapons, and
place; I will meet you, and we shall see whether you have courage
to kill a woman who lives for you only, and whom you render the most
miserable creature in existence."

Louis XV gave me a kiss, and laughingly said, "I ought to make you sleep
in the Bastille to-night."

"I am then more merciful than you, for I think I shall make you sleep in
the couch you love best."

This reply amused the king excessively, and he himself proposed to send
for madame de Bearn. I should speak of my presentation before him, and
then without making any positive concession, he would see what could be
done to satisfy her.

For want of any other, I accepted this _mezzo termine_.



CHAPTER XII


     The comtesse de Bearn--The supper--Louis XV--Intrigues
     against my presentation--M. de Roquelaure--The scalded foot--
     The comtesse d'Aloigny--The duc d'Aiguillon and madame de
     Bearn--Anger of the king's daughters--Madame Adelaide and
     the comtesse du Barry--Dissatisfaction of the king

M. Morand was again put in requisition, and went from me to ask madame
de Bearn to come and sup at my apartments. We were in committee--my
sisters-in-law, myself, and comte Jean. The comtesse made some
difficulties at first, under pretence that she was afraid to refuse me
a second time. Our messenger assured her by saying, that a supper would
not bind her to any thing, and that she should still be at liberty
to give any reply she pleased. Madame de Bearn allowed herself to be
persuaded, and sent me word that she would accept my invitation. She
would have reflected twice before she so far committed herself, had
she at all suspected the turn we meant to serve her. But I saw by the
wording of her note, that she still hoped that the king would be induced
to grant me the written promise which I asked for her.

She came. I received her with all possible courtesy, and yet not with
much heartiness. I could not help remembering the vexatious terms she
set upon her complaisance. However, the supper was gay enough, comte
Jean and my sisters-in-law, who knew very well how to dissemble, did
the honors in a most agreeable way. On leaving table we went into the
drawing-room, and then began to discuss the serious question which had
brought us together. At the first words which comte Jean uttered, madame
de Bearn, taking my hands with a respectful familiarity, said to me:--"I
hope, madame, that you will not have a bad opinion of me, if I put such
conditions to my desire of obliging you. The situation of my family
requires it, but it is only a trifle for the king to grant."

"Much more than you imagine, madame," I replied. "The king does not care
to involve himself in such engagements. He does not like, moreover, that
his sacred word should be doubted."

"Ah?" replied the cunning creature, "heaven forbid that I should not
blindly trust to the king's word, but his memory may fail, or he, like
other men, may forget."

"Madame," replied comte Jean, with the utmost gravity, "madame is a
lady as full of prudence as of kindness, but yet a little too exacting.
Madame wishes to have a promise signed for herself and son: that is too
much. Why does she not content herself in dividing the difficulty, by
satisfying herself with a verbal promise for what concerns herself, and
with a written engagement for what relates to her son?"

"_Mon Dieu, monsieur_," replied the countess, "I am anxious to arrange
all to our mutual satisfaction. But his majesty would not surely refuse
the entreaties of madame for what I ask."

"I will speak to him of it the first time I see him."

"Oh, you are a charming woman. You will obtain all from the king, and
make a sure friend--"

"Whose friendship is very difficult to acquire," said I, interrupting
her.

The countess would have replied to this, when my first
_valet-de-chambre_, opening the two folding-doors of the room, announced
the king.

At this unexpected name my guest trembled, and in spite of the thick
rouge which covered her cheeks, I perceived she turned pale. She then
saw the scene we had prepared for her: she wished herself a hundred
leagues off: but she could do nothing, but remain where she was. I took
her by the hand, all trembling as she was, and presented her to the
king, saying,

"Sire, I now do for this lady, in my own drawing-room, what she will
have the kindness to do for me at the state-chamber."

"Ah," replied the king, "is it madame de Bearn that you present to me? I
am indeed delighted. Her husband was one of my faithful servants: I was
much pleased with her son when he was one of pages, and I perceive that
she herself is desirous of testifying to me her attachment to my person.
I thank you, madame; you cannot confer a greater favor on me, and I
shall embrace every opportunity of proving to you how much satisfaction
your conduct affords me."

Each word that the king uttered went to the heart of the countess.
However, making a virtue of necessity, she replied, that she was proud
and happy at what the king had said to her, and that it would be her
constant aim to please his majesty, flattering herself that the king
would remember the services of the Bearn family, and would think of her
in the dispensation of his bounties.

"You may rely on it, madame," replied Louis XV, "especially if the
comtesse du Barry applies to me in your behalf."

Then, turning towards me, "When, then, is this redoubtable presentation
to take place?"

"On the day, sire, when your majesty shall think proper," I replied.

"Well! I will send the duc de Richelieu to you, who will arrange the
whole."

This settled, the subject was turned, but madame de Bearn lost her
tongue entirely. In spite of all her endeavors, her forehead became
contracted every moment, and I am sure she went away vexed and
disappointed.

The following morning, the comte Jean and my sister-in-law went to her
house. They testified their regret for what had occurred the previous
evening; they assured her that we would not take any advantage of the
conditionless engagement which she had made to present me, and that
altho' it was impossible to ask the required guarantees from the king,
still we should most undeviatingly adhere to the clauses of the treaty:
they added, that they came to enquire when she should choose to receive
the hundred thousand livres. The countess replied, that in spite of
the real disadvantage which she must henceforward labor under in this
affair, she felt great friendship for me, and would not refuse to oblige
me, and she flattered herself that I would espouse her cause with the
king. The comte Jean assured her of this, and settled with her the
period of the payment of the hundred thousand livres, which were to be
paid at sight on her drawing on M. de la Borde, the court-banker.

Thus then my presentation was an assured matter: nothing now could
prevent it, at least I fancied so to myself. I reckoned without my host;
I did not know yet all the malice of a courtier lady or gentleman. As it
was, however, M. de Choiseul and his vile sister had gained over one of
my servants, for they knew all that had passed. They soon learned that
madame de Bearn had come to supper with me, and that after supper a
visit of the king's had decided this lady on my presentation: this they
determined to prevent.

For this end, they despatched as ambassador the chevalier de Coigny to
the house of madame de Bearn. He, following the instruction, sought by
turns to seduce and intimidate the countess, but all went for nothing.
Madame de Bearn told the chevalier de Coigny, that she had been with me
to ask my influence with the chancellor. The chevalier left her without
being able to obtain any other information.

This bad success did not dishearten the Choiseuls. They sent this
time to madame de Bearn, M. de Roquelaure, bishop of Senlis, and grand
almoner to the king. This prelate was much liked at court, and in
high favor with mesdames (the king's daughters). We were good friends
together at last, but in this particular he was very near doing me great
wrong. M. de Roquelaure having called on madame de Bearn, told her that
he well knew the nature of her communications with me.

"Do not flatter yourself," said he, "that you will obtain thro' the
influence of the comtesse du Barry, all that has been promised you. You
will have opposed to you the most powerful adversaries and most august
personages. It cannot be concealed from you, that mesdames contemplate
the presentation of this creature with the utmost displeasure. They will
not fail to obtain great influence over the future dauphin, and will do
you mischief with him; so that, whether in the actual state of things,
or in that which the age and health of the king must lead us to
anticipate, you will be in a most unfortunate situation at court."

The old bishop, with his mischievous frankness, catechised madame de
Bearn so closely, that at length she replied, that so much respect and
deference did she entertain towards the princesses, that she would not
present me until they should accord their permission for me to appear.
M. de Roquelaure took this reply to the Choiseuls. Madame de Grammont,
enchanted, thinking the point already gained, sent madame de Bearn an
invitation to supper the next day, but this was not the countess's game.
She was compelled to decide promptly, and she thought to preserve a
strict neutrality until fresh orders should issue. What do you suppose
she did? She wrote to us, madame de Grammont and myself, that she had
scalded her foot, and that it was impossible for her to go from home.

On receiving her note I believed myself betrayed, forsaken. Comte Jean
and I suspected that this was a feint, and went with all speed to call
on the comtesse de Bearn. She received us with her usual courtesy,
complained that we had arrived at the very moment of the dressing of her
wound, and told us she would defer it; but I would not agree to this.
My brother-in-law went into another room, and madame de Bearn began to
unswathe her foot in my presence with the utmost caution and tenderness.
I awaited the evidence of her falsehood, when, to my astonishment, I
saw a horrible burn! I did not for a moment doubt, what was afterwards
confirmed, namely, that madame de Bearn had actually perpetrated this,
and maimed herself with her own free will. I mentally cursed her Roman
courage, and would have sent my heroic godmother to the devil with all
my heart.

Thus then was my presentation stopped by the foot of madame de Bearn.
This mischance did not dampen the zeal of my friends. On the one hand,
comte Jean, after having stirred heaven and earth, met with the comtesse
d'Aloigny. She consented to become my godmother immediately after her
own presentation, for eighty thousand livres and the expenses of the
ceremony. But mesdames received her so unsatisfactorily, that my
own feelings told me, I ought not to be presented at court under her
auspices.

We thanked the comtesse d'Aloigny therefore, and sent her, as a
remuneration, twenty thousand livres from the king.

Whilst comte Jean failed on one side, the duc d'Aiguillon succeeded on
another. He was someway related to madame de Bearn. He went to visit
her, and made her understand that, as the Choiseuls neither gave nor
promised her anything, she would be wrong in declaring for them: that,
on the other hand, if she declared for me, I could procure for her
the favor of the king. Madame de Bearn yielded to his persuasions, and
charged the duc d'Aiguillon to say to me, and even herself wrote, that
she put herself entirely into my hands; and that, as soon as she was
well, I might rely on her. What, I believe, finally decided this lady
was, the fear that if she did not comply with what I required, I should
content myself with the comtesse d'Aloigny.

Now assured of my introductress, I only directed my attention to the
final obstacle of my presentation; I mean the displeasure of mesdames.
I do not speak of madame Louise, of whom I can only write in terms of
commendation; but I had opposed to me mesdames Victoire and Sophie, and
especially madame Adelaide, who, as the eldest, gave them their plan
of conduct. This latter, who had given too much cause to be spoken of
herself to have any right to talk of others, never ceased haranguing
about the scandal of my life; and I had recently, unknown to myself,
fallen into complete disgrace with her. This is the case.

The apartment from which I had dislodged M. de Noailles had been
requested of the king by madame Adelaide. Ignorant of this I had
installed myself there. I soon learned that I had offended the princess,
and instantly hastened to offer her the apartments she wished to have.
She came into them; but as it was necessary for me to be accommodated
somewhere, the king gave me the former apartments of his daughter. This
was what madame Adelaide called an act of tyranny; she made the chateau
echo with her complaints: she said I had driven her out, that I wished
to separate her from her sisters; that I should wean her father's
affection entirely from her. Such injustice distressed me excessively.
I sent to request the king to come to me; and when he entered I threw
myself at his feet, entreating him to appease his daughter on any terms,
and to let me go away, since I brought such trouble into his family.

The king, irritated at madame Adelaide 's conduct, went to her, and told
her, in a private interview, that he would make certain matters public
if she did not hold her tongue; and she, alarmed, ceased her clamor, or
rather, contented herself in complaining in a lower key.



CHAPTER XIII


     Of the presentation--The king and the duc de Richelieu at
     comtesse du Barry's--M. de la Vauguyon--Conversation--Letter
     of the duke to the comtesse du Barry--Reply--The countess
     unites herself with the Jesuit party--Madame Louise--Madame
     Sophie--M. Bertin--Madame de Bercheny

This fit of anger of madame Adelaide had given additional courage to
the cabal. It began to exclaim and plot against me with redoubled force;
hoping thus to intimidate the king, and effectually bar my presentation;
but it only tended to hasten it. One evening, when the king and the
marechal de Richelieu were with me, he said to me,

"A stop must be put to these clamors. I see that until you are
presented, there will be doubts perpetually arising and tormenting us on
the subject; and until it takes place I shall have no ease. _Parbleu_!
Let us take the best means in our power of reducing these malcontents to
silence."

"Sire," replied the marechal, "make your will palpable, and you will
see all the court submit."

"Yes, but my daughters?"

"Mesdames know better than any persons the deference due to your
orders."

"I assure you," replied the king, "that it will be an unpleasant quarter
of an hour for me to pass."

"Well, sire, then charge one of us with the mission: the bishop of
Senlis, for instance, or M. de la Vauguyon. I feel assured that either
of them will acquit himself admirably in the business, with the previous
understanding that your majesty will support him with your authority."

"I will do so most assuredly; but it will be best not to use it but at
the last extremity. I have no wish to be made a bugbear to my family."

"As to the selection of an ambassador," I interrupted, "I beg it may not
fall on M. de Roquelaure; he has been working against me for some time."

"Why not send M. de Jarente?" inquired the king.

"Ah, sire," replied the duke, "because we cannot trust him; he is a
gay fellow. Madame Sophie might tell him, that he only took the part of
madame du Barry, because he passes his life amongst petticoats."

"True enough," said the king, "I prefer the duc de la Vauguyon: he has a
good reputation--"

"And well deserved," said the old marechal, sneering. "Yes, sire, he is
a pious man; at least, he plays his part well."

"Peace, viper; you spare nobody."

"Sire, I am only taking my revenge."

"Why do you not like the governor of my grandsons?"

"In truth, sire, I must confess to you, that except yourself and the
ladies, I have not many likings at Versailles."

Louis XV smiled, and I pulled the bell; when a valet appeared, I said,

"Go and find M. de la Vauguyon for his majesty."

When we were alone, "What, already?" said Louis XV.

"Madame is right," replied the duke, "we must strike while the iron is
hot."

The king began to pace up and down the room, which was his invariable
custom when anything disturbed him: then suddenly stopping,

"I should not be astonished at a point blank refusal from M. de la
Vauguyon."

"Oh, sire, make yourself easy; the governor has no inclination to follow
the steps of Montausier or Beauvilliers. In truth you are very candid;
and I must tell you, that you have too good an opinion of us."

At this moment M. de la Vauguyon entered. He saluted the king with
humility; and asked him, in a mild tone of voice, what his pleasure was
with him.

"A real mark of your zeal," was the king's reply.

"And of your gallantry," added the marechal, who saw the hesitation of
the king. Louis XV was enchanted that another should speak for him. M.
de Richelieu continued:

"His majesty, monsieur le duc, wishes that you should prepare mesdames
to receive our dear countess here, when she shall appear before them to
pay the homage of her respect and devotion."

The king, emboldened by these words, said, "Yes, my dear duke, I can
only find you in the chateau who have any influence over the princesses,
my daughters. They have much respect, and no less friendship, for you.
You will easily bring them to reason."

As M. de la Vauguyon seemed in no hurry to undertake the charge, the
marechal added,

"Yes, sir, to manage this business properly, you and M. de Senlis are
the only men in the kingdom."

The marechal had his reasons for saying this, for a secret jealousy
existed between the governor and the grand almoner. M. de la Vauguyon
made haste to say, that he could not resist his majesty's orders, and
his desire to be agreeable to me.

"Ah! you will then do something for me?" I replied. "I am delighted and
proud."

"Madame," replied the duke with much gravity, "friends are proved on
occasion."

"The present one proves your attachment to me," said I in my turn;
"and his majesty will not think it wrong of me, if, as a recompense, I
embrace you in his presence": and, on saying this, I went up to the
duc de la Vauguyon, and gave him two kisses, which the poor man took as
quietly as possible.

"That's well," said the king. "You are, la Vauguyon, a man of a
thousand. Listen attentively to me. I wish much that the comtesse du
Barry should be presented; I wish it, and that, too, in defiance of all
that can be said and done. My indignation is excited beforehand against
all those who shall raise any obstacle to it. Do not fail to let my
daughters know, that if they do not comply with my wishes, I will let
my anger fall heavily on all persons by whose counsels they may be
persuaded; for I only am master, and I will prove it to the last. These
are your credentials, my dear duke, add to them what you may think
fitting; I will bear you out in any thing--"

"Mercy!" said the duc de Richelieu to me in an undertone, "the king has
poured forth all his energy in words; he will have none left to act upon
if he meets with any resistance." The marechal knew the king well.

"I doubt not, sire," replied the duc de la Vauguyon, "that the
respectful duty of mesdames will be ready to comply with your desires."

"I trust and believe it will prove so," replied the king hastily. "I am
a good father, and would not that my daughters should give me cause to
be angry with them. Let madame Adelaide understand, that she has
lately had a mistaken opinion of me, and that she has an opportunity
of repairing her error in the present instance. The princesses are not
ignorant that I have often shut my eyes upon certain affairs--. Enough;
they must now testify their attachment for me. Why should they oppose."

At these latter words I could not forbear laughing. La Vauguyon and de
Richelieu left us and here the conversation terminated.

The next morning they brought me a note from the duc de la Vauguyon.
Thus it ran:--

"MADAME,--Ready to serve you, I wish to have a few minutes' conversation
with you. Be persuaded that I will not tell you anything but what will
be agreeable and useful to you."

The presentation of the comtesse? _Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!_ they were not so
squeamish in the days of madame de Pompadour."

I instantly answered:--

"You are too good a friend for me to refuse to see you willingly under
any circumstances, and particularly the present. Your conduct yesterday
assures you my eternal regard. Come instantly; my grateful heart expects
you with impatience."

My sister-in-law, to whom I showed this correspondence, said to me,
"This gentleman does not come to see you for your bright eyes; and yet
his visit is not disinterested."

"What interest can he have to serve?"

"None of his own, perhaps; but those villainous Jesuits."

"Don't you like them, sister of mine?"

"I hate nobody."

M. de la Vauguyon arrived; and as soon as we were alone, he said to me,

"Well, madame, I am now on the point of going to fight your battles. I
have to deal with a redoubtable foe."

"Do you fear?"

"Why, I am not over confident; my position is a delicate one. Mesdames
will perforce obey the orders of the king, but they will not find much
pleasure in seeing me the ambassador sent to them: all the Choiseul
party will vociferate loudly. Nevertheless, to prove my devotion to you,
I brave it all."

"You may rely on it that I will never forget the service you are about
to render me."

"I have only one favor to ask of you. Authorize me to say to mesdames,
that if the pleasures of life distract your attention from religious
duties, your soul is in truth fully devoted to our holy religion;
and that far from supporting the philosophers, you will aid, by your
influence with the king, every measure advantageous to the society of
Jesuits."

The hypocritical tone in which this was uttered, almost compelled me to
burst out into a fit of laughter; but the serious posture of my affairs
induced me to preserve my gravity, and I answered in a serious tone,

"Not only, monsieur le duc, do I authorize you to say so much, but I
beg you to declare to mesdames that I am already filled with love and
respect for the Jesuits, and that it will not be my fault if they do not
return amongst us."

"Ah, you are a treasure of wisdom," replied the duke, kissing my hand
with fervor; "and I am disgusted at the way you are calumniated."

"I know no reason for it, for I have never done harm to any person.
Assure mesdames that I am sincerely grieved that I am not agreeable to
them, and would give half my life to obtain, not their friendship, of
which I do not feel myself worthy, but their indifference. Deign also to
tell them, that at all times I am at their disposal, and beseech them to
consider me as their humble servant."

"It is impossible to behave more correctly than you do; and I am
confident that mesdames will soon discard their unjust prejudices. Thus,
it is well understood that our friends will be yours."

"Yes, yes, provided they are really mine."

"Certainly. I answer for them as I answer for you."

And thus, my friend, did I find myself allied to the Jesuitical party.

The duke commenced the attack with madame Louise, the most reasonable of
the king's daughters. This angelic princess, already occupied with
the pious resolution which she afterwards put into execution in
the following year, contented herself with saying some words on the
commotion occasioned by my presence at Versailles, and then, as if her
delicacy had feared to touch on such a subject, she asked the duc de la
Vauguyon, if the king ordered her to receive the comtesse du Barry.

"Yes, madame," replied the duke; "it is the express will of his
majesty."

"I submit to his wish: the lady may come when she will."

The duke, contented with his success so far, went next to madame Sophie.
This princess was not unkind, but subject to attacks of the nerves,
which from time to time soured her natural disposition: she had her
caprices of hatred, her fits of love. The day when the duke talked to
her of my presentation she was very much provoked against me; and after
the opening speech of the ambassador, flung in his teeth the report of
the apartments, which I have already told you. The duke explained
to her, and that too without saying anything unfavorable of madame
Adelaide, and concluded by begging her to concede the favor I besought.
Madame eluded this, by saying, that before she gave a definite reply she
wished to confer with her sisters.

Madame Victoire was not more easily persuaded. This princess had amiable
qualities, solid virtues which made her loved and respected by the whole
court; but she had but little will of her own, and allowed herself to be
led by the Choiseuls; who, to flatter her, told her that she alone had
inherited the energy of her grandfather, Louis XIV. She was advised to
display it in this instance, and, she would willingly have done so. The
comtesse de Bercheny, one of her ladies in waiting, was the person who
urged her on to the greatest resistance. This lady did not cease to
exclaim against me, and to fan the flame of displeasure which, but for
her, would never have appeared. I was informed of the mode adopted by
madame de Bercheny to injure me. I sent for M. Bertin, who was devoted
to my service, and begged him to go and speak to the lady; he went, and
made her understand that the king, enraged against her, would expel her
from Versailles, if she were not silent. The comtesse de Bercheny was
alarmed; and under pretence of taking a tour, left the court for a
month. You will see anon the result of all these conferences.



CHAPTER XIV


     The princesses consent to the presentation of madame du
     Barry--Ingenious artifice employed by the king to offer a
     present to the duc de la Vauguyon--Madame du Barry's letter
     respecting it--The duke's reply--The king's letter--The
     court in despair--Couplets concerning madame du Barry--Her
     presentation--A change in public opinion--An evening party
     at the house of the countess--Joy of her partizans--
     Conversation with the chancellor respecting the lady of the
     marechal de Mirepoix

The departure of the comtesse de Bercheny was announced to the
princesses in the manner least likely to provoke their regrets.
Nevertheless, a rumor never slept at Versailles, a whisper was quickly
circulated thro'-out the castle, that this sudden and unexpected journey
had originated in the king's weariness of her continual philippics
against me; and it was clearly comprehended by all, that a similar
disgrace would be the portion of those who should offend the monarch
whilst seeking to procure my humiliation. This show of firmness was
sufficient to repress the daring flights of those self-constituted
heroines, whose courage lasted only whilst the king was silent, and who
trembled like a leaf before the slightest manifestation of his will.
Still the cabal against me, tho' weakened, was not destroyed; it was
too strong for the present shock to dissolve it; and altho' none was
sufficiently hardy to declare open war, plots were constantly going on
to ensnare me.

Meanwhile madame Victoire, left to herself, could not long support such
excessive animosity; and the duc de la Vauguyon profiting by the species
of lassitude into which she appeared to have fallen, led her without
difficulty to act in conformity to the king's wishes.

There remained now therefore but madame Adelaide to overcome, and
the task became more difficult in proportion to the elevated rank she
occupied at court. By priority of birth she held the first place there;
and hitherto this superiority had been ceded to her without dispute,
more particularly since the hand of death had removed both the queen her
mother, and the dauphiness her sister-in-law. She therefore could only
view with uneasiness the prospect of another appearing on the stage
whose influence would be greater than hers; and who (until the young
dauphiness should attain to years of maturity) might deprive her of all
honors but those due to her birth. Madame Adelaide was gifted with
good sense, affability of manners, and a kind and compassionating heart
towards all who needed her aid; her disposition was good, but she loved
dominion, and the least show of resistance to her wishes was painful and
offensive to her. She was determined to uphold the duc de Choiseul; and
my decided manner towards that minister plainly evinced how little I
should feel inclined to support her view of things. There were therefore
several reasons for my presence at court being unpleasant to madame
Adelaide.

Against her therefore did the duc de la Vauguyon direct his batteries.
She received his attack with the most determined obstinacy; all was in
vain, she was unconquerable, and the most skilfully devised plans were
insufficient to surmount her resistance; it was therefore necessary to
have recourse to the clergy, who were at that time completely led by the
Jesuits; each member of the church, up to the archbishop of Paris, was
called upon to interfere, or their names were employed in default of
their presence. It was pointed out to madame Adelaide that I possessed
good intentions with feelings of religion, which, however stifled by the
freedom of the age, only required careful management to produce a rich
development. The success of this last mode of attack astonished the duke
himself; and madam, dazzled by the hopes of my conversion, as well as
weary of hostilities, yielded her consent to my being presented. After
these private negotiations the four sisters met at the house of the
elder one; and there they decided that since the king had so expressly
manifested his pleasure relative to my presentation, they should conform
to the desire of their father, by receiving me with every possible mark
of courtesy.

The duc de la Vauguyon hastened to communicate to me this happy state of
things; and my joy was so great, that I embraced him with the sincerest
warmth, assuring him that I should always look upon him as my best
friend, and seek to testify my regard at every opportunity that fell in
my way of forwarding his interests.

Some days afterwards the king brought me a splendid ring, worth
thirty-six thousand livres.

"You must send this jewel to your good friend the duke," said he.

"I dare not," replied I. "I fear lest it should draw forth his
displeasure."

"No, no," cried the king, "'tis not the fashion at court to construe
gifts like this into insults, but I should wish this trifle to be
presented in an indirect manner"; and, after having considered a moment,
"I have it," exclaimed he, "I have thought of a clever expedient; let
us put this ring upon the finger of that Chinese mandarin before us, and
give the figure with the ring, considering it merely an appendage to
it. Assuredly the most disinterested man cannot refuse to accept a china
figure."

I extolled the king's idea as being a most happy one; and he immediately
fitted the ring upon the little finger of the mandarin, which I caused
to be carried to the duc de la Vauguyon with the following billet:--

"MONSIEUR LE DUC,--You have been my best friend; 'tis to your kind
offices that I owe the confirmation of my happiness; but I would secure
the continuance of your valuable friendship, and for that purpose I send
you a little magical figure, which, placed in your cabinet, will compel
your thoughts to occupy themselves with me in spite of yourself. I am
superstitious enough to rely greatly upon the talismanic virtue of the
charmed porcelain; and further, I must tell you, that I was not its
purchaser in the first instance, neither did I adorn it for your
acceptance. I should not have ventured to offer more than the assurance
of my everlasting esteem and regard for your acceptance. The trifle sent
comes from a higher source; and the august hand so dear to both of us,
deigned to preside over the arrangement. Should there be in it anything
at all repugnant to your feelings, I beseech you bear me no ill will
for it; for truly, I may say, I should never have summoned courage to
do that which has just been done by him whom all unite in loving and
esteeming."

* The duke replied,--"Your talisman is welcome; yet its magic power,
far from augmenting the warmth of my feelings towards you, would have
diminished it on account of a certain accessory with which my friendship
could have well dispensed: however, what you say on the subject closes
my lips. I gratefully acknowledge the daily favors bestowed upon me
from the august hand of whom you speak; and I receive with the deepest
respect (mingled with regret) the gracious present he deigns to convey
to me by you. I own that I should have preferred, to the splendid jewel
which bedecked the finger of your deity, a Chinese counterpart, which
might indeed have enabled all admiring gazers to say, 'these two are
truly a pair.' As for yourself, who would fain pass for nobody in the
munificent gift, I thank you at least for the flattering place you
assign me in your recollection. Be assured I feel its full value, and
you may confidently reckon upon the disposal of my poor credit as well
as command the little influence I may be said to possess in the castle.
Adieu, madame, I entreat your acceptance of the expression of my most
sincere and respectful devotion."

The king, having read M. de la Vauguyon's letter, sent immediately to
the china manufactory to purchase the fellow mandarin so much coveted
by the duke, and caused it to be conveyed to him with the following
words:--

"MY DEAR GOVERNOR--You are a kind-hearted creature I know, and a great
promoter of domestic harmony; to fain unite the wife with the husband.
Heaven grant that such a measure may indeed bring about your proposed
felicity! However, by way of furthering your schemes, I send the Chinese
lady, whose beauty I trust will not disturb your repose, for in spite
of your sanctity, I know you can be as gallant as the rest of us, and
possibly this beautiful mandarin may prove to be more lovely in your
eyes, than in those of the husband for whom she is destined; but, in
sober earnestness, I would wish you to be convinced that my intention
is not to attempt payment for the services rendered me, but simply to
evince my sense of their value. There is one beside me at this moment
who has given me a kiss to transmit to you--You will easily guess
who has had the audacity to enlist me into her service upon such an
occasion."

This was one of the recompenses offered to the duc de la Vauguyon, as a
compensation for the public clamor and dislike which sprung up against
him in consequence of his zeal for my service. At Versailles, the
general ferment was at its height, when it became generally known that I
had triumphed over all obstacles, and that my presentation was certainly
to take place. In the midst of all this the desperate odium fell upon
the duc de la Vauguyon, and a general attack was made upon him: his
virtues, reputation, talents, qualities, were made the subject of blame
and scandal--in a word, he was run down by public opinion. But the
leaders of the cabal were not the less struck by the news of my success,
which sounded in their ears like the falling of a thunder-bolt.

The silly princess de Guemene, who, with her husband, has since become a
bankrupt to so enormous and scandalous an amount, flew without delay to
convey the tidings of my victory to the duchesse de Grammont, to whom
it was a death-blow. All her courage forsook her; she shed bitter tears,
and displayed a weakness so much the more ridiculous, as it seemed to
arise from the utmost despair. She repaired to madame Adelaide, before
whom she conducted herself in the most absurd and extravagant manner.
The poor princess, intimidated by the weakness she herself evinced,
in drawing back after she had in a manner espoused the opposite party,
durst not irritate her, but, on the contrary, strove to justify her own
change of conduct towards me, by urging the impossibility of refusing
obedience to the express command of the king.

The other princesses did not evince greater firmness when overwhelmed by
the complaints of the cabal, and in a manner bent their knee before the
wives of the French nobility, asking their pardon for their father's
error in selecting a mistress from any rank but theirs. About this
period a song, which I admired greatly, was circulated abroad. My
enemies interpreted it to my disadvantage, but I was far from being of
the same opinion. It was successively attributed to the most clever men
in Paris, and I have myself met with four who each asserted himself to
be the author; in justice it should be ascribed to him who appeared the
most calculated to have written it, and who indeed claimed it for his
own--the chevalier de Boufflers. I do not know whether you recollect the
lines in question. I will transcribe them from memory, adding another
couplet, which was only known amongst our own particular circle, but
which proves most incontestably the spirit of kindness with which the
stanzas were composed.

     Lise, ta beaute seduit,
       Et charme tout le monde.
     En vain la duchesse en rougit,
       Et la princesse en gronde,
     Chacun sait que Venus naquit
       De l'ecume de l'onde.

     En rit-elle moins tous les dieux.
       Lui rendre un juste hommage!
     Et Paris, le berger fameux,
       Lui donner l'avantage
     Meme sur la reine des cieux
       Et Minerve la sage?

     Dans le serail du grand seigneur.
       Quelle est la favorite?
     C'est la plus belle au gre de coeur
       Du maitre qui l'habite.
     C'est le seul titre en sa faveur
       Et c'est le vrai merite.

     Que Grammont tonne contre toi,
       La chose est naturelle.
     Elle voudrait donner la loi
       Et n'est qu' une mortelle;
     Il faut, pour plaire au plus grand roi,
       Sans orgueil etre belle.*

     *From those readers who may understand this chanson in the
     original, and look somewhat contemptuously on the following
     version, the translator begs to shelter himself under the
     well-known observation of Lord Chesterfield, "that
     everything suffers by translation, but a a bishop!"  Those
     to whom such a dilution is necessary will perhaps be
     contented with the skim-milk as they cannot get the cream.--TRANS.

Thy beauty, seductress, leads mortals astray, Over hearts, Lise, how
vast and resistless thy sway. Cease, duchess, to blush! cease, princess,
to rave--Venus sprang from the foam of the ocean wave. All the gods
pay their homage at her beauteous shrine, And adore her as potent,
resistless, divine! To her Paris, the shepherd, awarded the prize,
Sought by Juno the regal, and Pallas the wise.

Who rules o'er her lord in the Turkish _serail_, Reigns queen of his
heart, and e'er basks in his smile? 'Tis she, who resplendent, shines
loveliest of all, And beauty holds power in her magic thrall. Then heed
not the clamors that Grammont may raise, How natural her anger! how vain
her dispraise! 'Tis not a mere mortal our monarch can charm, Free from
pride is the beauty that bears off the palm.

This song was to be found in almost every part of France. Altho' the
last couplet was generally suppressed, so evident was its partial tone
towards me, in the midst of it all I could not help being highly amused
with the simplicity evinced by the good people of France, who, in
censuring the king's conduct, found nothing reprehensible but his having
omitted to select his mistress from elevated rank.

The citizens resented this falling off in royalty with as much warmth
and indignation as the grandees of the court; and I could enjoy a laugh
on the subject of their angry displeasure as soon as my presentation was
decided upon.

The intrigues carried on by those about the princesses, and the
necessity of awaiting the perfect recovery of madame de Bearn, delayed
this (to me) important day till the end of the month of April, 1770.
On the evening of the 21st the king, according to custom, announced a
presentation for the following day; but he durst not explain himself
more frankly; he hesitated, appeared embarrassed, and only pronounced my
name in a low and uncertain voice; it seemed as tho' he feared his own
authority was insufficient to support him in such a measure. This I did
not learn till some time afterwards; and when I did hear it, I took the
liberty of speaking my opinion upon it freely to his majesty.

On the next day, the 22d, I was solely engrossed with my dress: it was
the most important era of my life, and I would not have appeared on it
to any disadvantage. A few days previously, the king had sent me, by the
crown jeweller, Boemer, a set of diamonds, valued at 150,000 livres, of
which he begged my acceptance. Delighted with so munificent a present I
set about the duties of the toilette with a zeal and desire of pleasing
which the importance of the occasion well excused. I will spare you the
description of my dress; were I writing to a woman I would go into all
these details; but as I know they would not be to your taste, I will
pass all these uninteresting particulars over in silence, and proceed to
more important matter.

Paris and Versailles were filled with various reports. Thro'out the
city, within, without the castle, all manner of questions were asked, as
tho' the monarchy itself was in danger. Couriers were dispatched every
instant with fresh tidings of the great event which was going on.
A stranger who had observed the general agitation would easily have
remarked the contrast between the rage and consternation of my enemies
and the joy of my partizans, who crowded in numbers to the different
avenues of the palace, in order to feast their eyes upon the pageantry
of my triumphal visit to court.

Nothing could surpass the impatience with which I was expected; hundreds
were counting the minutes, whilst I, under the care of my hairdresser
and robemaker, was insensible to the rapid flight of time, which had
already carried us beyond the hour appointed for my appearance. The king
himself was a prey to an unusual uneasiness; the day appeared to him
interminable; and the eagerness with which he awaited me made my delay
still more apparent. A thousand conjectures were afloat as to the cause
of it. Some asserted that my presentation had been deferred for the
present, and, in all probability, would never take place; that the
princesses had opposed it in the most decided manner, and had refused
upon any pretense whatever to admit me to their presence. All these
suppositions charmed my enemies, and filled them with hopes which their
leaders, better informed, did not partake.

Meanwhile the king's restlessness increased; he kept continually
approaching the window to observe what was going on in the court-yard
of the castle, and seeing there no symptoms of my equipage being
in attendance, began to lose both temper and patience. It has been
asserted, that he gave orders to have the presentation put off till a
future period, and that the duc de Richelieu procured my _entree_ by
force; this is partly true and partly false. Whilst in ignorance of the
real cause of my being so late, the king said to the first gentleman of
the chamber,

"You will see that this poor countess has met with some accident, or
else that her joy has been too much for her, and made her too ill to
attend our court to-day; if that be the case, it is my pleasure that her
presentation should not be delayed beyond to-morrow."

"Sire," replied the duke, "your majesty's commands are absolute."

These words, but half understood, were eagerly caught up, and
interpreted their own way by those who were eager to seize anything that
might tell to my prejudice.

At length I appeared; and never had I been more successful in
appearance. I was conducted by my godmother, who, decked like an altar,
was all joy and satisfaction to see herself a sharer in such pomp and
splendor. The princesses received me most courteously; the affability,
either real or feigned, which shone in their eyes as they regarded me,
and the flattering words with which they welcomed my arrival, was a
mortal blow to many of the spectators, especially to the ladies of
honor. The princesses would not suffer me to bend my knee before them,
but at the first movement I made to perform this act of homage, they
hastened to raise me, speaking to me at the same time in the most
gracious manner.

But my greatest triumph was with the king. I appeared before him in all
my glory, and his eyes declared in a manner not to be misunderstood
by all around him the impetuous love which he felt for me. He had
threatened the previous evening to let me fall at his feet without the
least effort on his part to prevent it. I told him that I was sure his
gallantry would not allow him to act in this manner; and we had laid a
bet on the matter. As soon as I approached him, and he took my hand to
prevent me, as I began to stoop before him, "You have lost, sire," said
I to him.

"How is it possible to preserve my dignity in the presence of so many
graces?" was his reply.

These gracious words of his majesty were heard by all around him. My
enemies were wofully chagrined; but what perfected their annihilation
was the palpable lie which my appearance gave to their false assertions.
They had blazoned forth everywhere that my manners were those of a
housemaid; that I was absurd and unladylike in my conduct; and that
it was only requisite to have a glimpse of me to recognize both the
baseness of my extraction, and the class of society in which my life had
been hitherto spent.

But I showed manners so easy and so elegant that the people soon shook
off their preconceived prejudice against me. I heard my demeanor lauded
as greatly as my charms and the splendor of my attire. Nothing could
be more agreeable to me. In a word, I obtained complete success, and
thenceforward learnt experimentally how much the exterior and a noble
carriage add to the consideration in which a person is held. I have seen
individuals of high rank and proud behavior who carried no influence in
their looks, because their features were plain and common place; whilst
persons of low station, whose face was gifted with natural dignity, had
only to show themselves to attract the respect of the multitude.

Nothing about me bespoke that I was sprung from a vulgar stock, and thus
scandal of that kind ceased from the day of my presentation; and public
opinion having done me justice in this particular, slander was compelled
to seek for food elsewhere.

That evening I had a large circle at my house. The chancellor, the
bishop of Orleans, M. de Saint-Florentin, M. Bertin, the prince de
Soubise, the ducs de Richelieu, de la Trimouille, de Duras, d'Aiguillon,
and d'Ayen. This last did not hesitate to come to spy out all that
passed in my apartments, that he might go and spread it abroad,
augmented by a thousand malicious commentaries. I had also M. de
Sartines, my brother-in-law, etc. The duc de la Vauguyon alone was
absent. I knew beforehand that he would not come, and that it was a
sacrifice which he thought himself compelled to make to the cabal. The
ladies were mesdames de Bearn and d'Aloigny, with my sisters-in-law.
Amongst the ladies presented they were the only ones with whom I
had formed any intimacy; as for the rest I was always the "horrible
creature," of whom they would not hear on any account.

The king, on entering, embraced me before the whole party. "You are a
charming creature," said he to me, "and the brilliancy of your beauty
has to-day reminded me of the device of my glorious ancestor."

This was a flattering commencement; the rest of the company chimed in
with their master, and each tried to take the first part in the chorus.
The duc d'Ayen even talked of my grace of manner. "Ah, sir," said I to
him, "I have had time to learn it from Pharamond to the reigning king."

This allusion was bitter, and did not escape the duke, who turned pale
in spite of his presence of mind, on finding that I was aware of the
malicious repartee which he had made to the king when talking of me, and
which I have already mentioned to you. The chancellor said to me,

"You have produced a great effect, but especially have you triumphed
over the cabal by the nobility of your manners and the dignity of your
mien; and thus you have deprived it of one of its greatest engines of
mischief, that of calumniating your person."

"They imagined then," said I to him, "that I could neither speak nor be
silent, neither walk nor sit still."

"As they wished to find you ignorant and awkward they have set you down
as such. This is human nature: when we hate any one, we say they are
capable of any thing; then, that they have become guilty of every thing;
and, to wind up all, they adopt for truth to-day what they invented last
night."

"Were you not fearful?" inquired the king.

"Forgive me, sire," I answered, "when I say that I feared lest I should
not please your majesty; and I was excessively desirous of convincing
mesdames of my respectful attachment."

This reply was pronounced to be fitting and elegant, altho' I had not in
any way prepared it. The fact is, that I was in great apprehension lest
I should displease the king's daughters; and I dreaded lest they should
manifest too openly the little friendship which they had towards me.
Fortunately all passed off to a miracle, and my good star did not burn
dimly in this decisive circumstance.

Amongst those who rejoiced at my triumph I cannot forget the duc
d'Aiguillon. During the whole of the day he was in the greatest
agitation. His future destiny was, in a measure, attached to my fortune;
he knew that his whole existence depended on mine; and he expected from
me powerful support to defend him against the pack of his enemies,
who were yelping open-mouthed against him. He stood in need of all
his strength of mind and equanimity to conceal the disquietude and
perplexity by which he was internally agitated.

The comte Jean also participated in this great joy. His situation at
court was not less doubtful; he had no longer reason to blush for his
alliance with me, and could now form, without excess of presumption, the
most brilliant hopes of the splendor of his house. His son, the vicomte
Adolphe, was destined to high fortune; and I assure you that I deeply
regretted when a violent and premature death took him away from his
family. My presentation permitted his father to realize the chimera
which he had pursued with so much perseverance. He flattered himself
in taking part with me. I did not forget him in the distribution of
my rewards; and the king's purse was to him a source into which he
frequently dipped with both hands.

The next day I had a visit from the chancellor.

"Now," said he, "you are at the height of your wishes, and we must
arrange matters, that the king shall find perpetual and varied
amusements, with you. He does not like large parties; a small circle is
enough for him; then he is at his ease, and likes to see the same faces
about him. If you follow my advice you will have but few females about
you, and select that few with discernment."

"How can I choose them at all when I see so very few?" was my reply. "I
have no positive intimacy with any court lady; and amongst the number
I should be at a loss to select any one whom I would wish to associate
with in preference to another."

"Oh, do not let that disturb you," he replied: "they leave you alone
now, because each is intent on observing what others may do; but as soon
as any one shall pay you a visit, the others will run as fast after you
as did the sheep of Panurge. I am greatly deceived if they are not very
desirous that one of them shall devote herself, and make the first dash,
that they may profit by her pretended fault. I know who will not be
the last to come and station herself amongst the furniture of your
apartment. The marechale de Mirepoix was too long the complaisant friend
of madame de Pompadour not to become, and that very soon, the friend of
the comtesse du Barry."

"Good heaven," I exclaimed, "how delighted I should be to have the
friendship of this lady, whose wit and amiable manners are so greatly
talked of."

"Yes," said de Maupeou, laughing, "she is a type of court ladies, a
mixture of dignity and suppleness, majesty and condescension, which is
worth its weight in gold. She was destined from all eternity to be the
companion of the king's female friends."

We both laughed; and the chancellor went on to say: "There are others
whom I will point out to you by and by; as for this one, I undertake to
find out whether she will come first of the party. She has sent to ask
an audience of me concerning a suit she has in hand. I will profit by
the circumstances to come to an explanation with her, about you. She
is not over fond of the Choiseul party; and I augur this, because I see
that she puts on a more agreeable air towards them."



CHAPTER XV


     The Comte de la Marche, a prince of the blood--Madame de
     Beauvoir, his mistress--Madame du Barry complains to the
     prince de Soubise of the princess de Guemenee--The king
     consoles the countess for this--The duc de Choiseul--The
     king speaks to him of madame du Barry--Voltaire writes to
     her--The opinions of Richelieu and the king concerning
     Voltaire

Amongst those personages who came to compliment me on the evening of my
presentation was M. the comte de la Marche, son of the prince du Conti,
and consequently prince of the blood. He had long been devoted to the
will of Louis XV. As soon as his most serene highness had wind of my
favor he hastened to add to the number of my court; and I leave you to
imagine how greatly I was flattered at seeing it augmented by so august
a personage.

This conquest was most valuable in my eyes, for I thus proved to the
world, that by attracting the king to me I did not isolate him from the
whole of his family. It is very true that for some time the comte de
la Marche had been out of favor with the public, by reason of his over
complaisance towards the ministers of the king's pleasure; but he
was not the less a prince of the blood, and at Versailles this rank
compensated for almost every fault. He was a lively man, moreover, his
society was agreeable, and the title he bore reflected his distinction
amongst a crowd of courtiers. I felt, therefore, that I ought to
consider myself as very fortunate that he deigned to visit me, and
accordingly received him with all the civility I could display; and the
welcome reception which he always experienced drew him frequently to my
abode.

The friendship with which he honored me was not agreeable to my enemies;
and they tried by every possible means to seduce him from me. They got
his near relations to talk to him about it; his intimate friends to
reason with him; the females whom he most admired to dissuade him from
it. There was not one of these latter who did not essay to injure me in
his estimation, by saying that he dishonored himself by an acquaintance
with me. There was amongst others a marquise de Beauvoir, the issue of
a petty nobility, whom he paid with sums of gold, altho' she was not
his mistress by title. Gained over by the Choiseuls, she made proposals
concerning me to the prince of so ridiculous a nature, that he said to
her impatiently: "I' faith, my dear, as in the eyes of the world every
woman who lives with a man who is not her husband is a ------, so I
think a man is wise to choose the loveliest he can find; and in this way
the king is at this moment much better off than any of his subjects."

Only imagine what a rage this put the marquise de Beauvoir in: she
stormed, wept, had a nervous attack. The comte de la Marche contemplated
her with a desperate tranquillity; but this scene continuing beyond the
limits of tolerable patience, he was so tired of it that he left her.
This was not what the marquise wished; and she hastened to write a
submissive letter to him, in which, to justify herself, she confessed
to the prince, that in acting against me she had only yielded to the
instigations of the cabal, and particularly alluded to mesdames de
Grammont and de Guemenee.

The comte de la Marche showed me this letter, which I retained in spite
of his resistance and all the efforts he made to obtain possession of
it again. My intention was to show it to the king; and I did not fail to
give it to him at the next visit he paid me: he read it, and shrugging
up his shoulders, as was his usual custom, he said to me,

"They are devils incarnate, and the worst of the kind. They try to
injure you in every way, but they shall not succeed. I receive also
anonymous letters against you, they are tossed into the post-box in
large packets with feigned names, in the hope that they will reach
me. Such slanders ought not to annoy you: in the days of madame de
Pompadour, the same thing was done. The same schemes were tried to ruin
madame de Chateauroux. Whenever I have been suspected of any tenderness
towards a particular female, every species of intrigue has been
instantly put in requisition. Moreover," he continued, "madame de
Grammont attacks you with too much obstinacy not to make me believe but
that she would employ all possible means to attain her end."

"Ah," I exclaimed, "because she has participated in your friendship you
are ready to support her."

"Do not say so in a loud tone," he replied laughingly; "her joy would
know no bounds if she could believe it was in her power to inspire you
with jealousy."

"But," I said, "that insolent Guemenee; has she also to plume herself
on your favors as an excuse for overpowering me with her hatred, and for
tearing me to pieces in the way she does?"

"No," was the king's answer; "she is wrong, and I will desire her
father-in-law to say so."

"And I will come to an explanation with the prince de Soubise on this
point; and we will see whether or not I will allow myself to have my
throat cut like an unresisting sheep."

I did not fail to keep my word. The prince de Soubise came the next
morning; chance on that day induced him to be extraordinarily gallant
towards me; never had he praised me so openly, or with so much
exaggeration. I allowed him to go on; but when at length he had
finished his panegyric, "Monsieur le marechal," said I to him, "you are
overflowing with kindness towards me, and I wish that all the members of
your family would treat me with the same indulgence."

Like a real courtier he pretended not to understand me, and made no
reply, hoping, no doubt, that the warmth of conversation would lead me
to some other subject; but this one occupied me too fully to allow me to
divert my attention from it; and, seeing that he continued silent, I
continued, "madame your daughter-in-law behaves towards me like a
declared enemy; she assails me by all sorts of provocation, and at last
will so act, that I shall find myself compelled to struggle against her
with open force."

You must be a courtier, you must have been in the presence of a king who
is flattered from morning to night in all his caprices, to appreciate
the frightful state in which my direct attack placed the prince de
Soubise. Neither his political instinct, nor the tone of pleasantry
which he essayed to assume, nor the more dangerous resource of offended
dignity, could extricate him from the embarrassment in which he
was thrown by my words. He could do nothing but stammer out a few
unintelligible phrases; and his confusion was so great and so visible,
that the marquis de Chauvelin, his not over sincere friend, came to his
assistance. The king, equally surprised at what I had just said, hastily
turned and spoke to Chon, who told me afterwards, that the astonishment
of Louis XV had been equal to that of the prince de Soubise, and that
he had evinced it by the absence of mind which he had manifested in his
discourse and manners.

M. de Chauvelin then turning towards me, said, "Well, madame, on what
evil herb have you walked to-day? Can it be possible that you would make
the prince, who is your friend, responsible for the hatred which ought
to be flattering rather than painful to you, since it is a homage
exacted towards your brilliant loveliness?"

"In the first place," I replied, "I have no intention to cast on
monsieur le marechal, whom I love with all my heart, the least
responsibility relative to the object of which I complain. I only wished
to evince to him the regret I experienced at not seeing all the members
of his family like him: this is all. I should be in despair if I thought
I had said anything that would wound him; and if I have done so, I most
sincerely ask his pardon."

On saying these words I presented my hand to the prince, who instantly
kissed it.

"You are," said he, "at the same time cruel and yet most amiable: but if
you have the painful advantage of growing old at court, you will learn
that my children have not all the deference and respect towards me which
they owe to their father; and I often am pained to see them act in a
manner entirely opposite to my desires, however openly manifested. If
my daughter does not love you, it is to me, most probably, that you must
look for the _why_ and _wherefore_: it is because I love you so much
that she is against you. I have committed an error in praising you
before her, and her jealousy was not proof against it."

"That is very amiable in you," said I; "and now whatever may be my
feelings against the princesse de Guemenee, I will endeavor to dissemble
it out of regard for you; and, I assure you, that however little
consideration your daughter-in-law may testify towards me, I will show
her a fair side: endeavor to make peace between us. I only ask to be let
alone, for I do not seek to become the enemy of any person."

Altho' M. de Soubise said that he had no influence over the princesse
de Guemenee, I learned, subsequently, that the day after this scene he
testified to the Guemenee some fears as to his future destiny at court.
He begged her not to oppose herself to me; to be silent with respect to
me, and to keep herself somewhat in the shade if she would not make some
advances towards me. His daughter-in-law, whose arrogance equalled her
dissipation and dissolute manners, replied, that she was too much above
a woman of my sort to fear or care for me; that my reign at the chateau
would be but brief, whilst hers would only terminate with her life: that
she would never consent to an act of weakness that would be derogatory
to her character and rank. In vain did the prince try to soften her,
and make her consider that my influence over the king was immense: he
preached to the desert, and was compelled to abandon his purpose without
getting any thing by his endeavors.

I now return to my conversation with him. During the time it lasted
the king did not cease talking to Chon, all the time listening with
attention to what the prince and I were saying; and he did not approach
us until the intervention of M. de Chauvelin had terminated this kind
of a quarrel. He returned to his seat in front of the fire; and when we
were alone, said to me,

"You have been very spiteful to the poor marechal, and I suffered for
him."

"You are an excellent friend; and, no doubt, it is the affection you
bear to M. de Soubise which makes you behave so harshly to me. Can I
not, without displeasing you, defend myself when I am attacked?"

"I did not say so; but is it necessary that he must be responsible for
the follies of his relations?"

"In truth, sire, so much the worse for the father who cannot make his
children respect him. If the marechal was respected by the public,
believe me he would be so by his family."

This retort was perhaps too severe. I found this by the silence of the
king; but as, in fact, it imported little, and, by God's help, I was
never under much constraint with him, I saw him blush, and then he said
to me,

"Now, I undertake to bring madame de Guemenee into proper order. The
favor I ask is, that you would not meddle. I have power enough to
satisfy you, but, for heaven's sake, do not enter into more quarrels
than you have already. It seems to me that you ought to avoid them
instead of creating such disturbances."

He had assumed a grave tone in reading me this lecture: but as we were
in a place in which majesty could not be committed, I began to laugh
heartily, and to startle him, I said that henceforward I would pilot
my bark myself, and defend myself by openly assailing all persons who
testified an aversion to me. How laughable it was to see the comic
despair in which this determination threw the king. It seemed to him
that the whole court would be at loggerheads; and he could not restrain
himself from exclaiming, that he would a hundred times rather struggle
against the king of Prussia and the emperor of Germany united, than
against three or four females of the chateau. In a word, I frightened
him so completely, that he decided on the greatest act of courage he had
ever essayed in my favor: it was, to desire the intervention of the duc
de Choiseul in all these quarrels.

The credit of this minister was immense, and this credit was based on
four powerful auxiliaries; namely the parliament, the philosophers, the
_literati_, and the women. The high magistracy found in him a public and
private protector. The parliaments had themselves a great many clients,
and their voices, given to the duc de Choiseul, gave him great power in
the different provinces. The philosophers, ranged under the banner of
Voltaire, who was their god, and of d'Alembert, their patriarch, knew
all his inclinations for them, and knew how far they might rely on
his support in all attempts which they made to weaken the power of the
clergy, and to diminish the gigantic riches which had been amassed by
prelates and monasteries. The writers were equally devoted to him: they
progressed with the age, and as on all sides they essayed to effect
important reforms, it was natural that they should rally about him in
whose hands was the power of their operations.

The ladies admired his gallantry: in fact, the duc de Choiseul was a
man who understood marvellously well how to combine serious labors with
pleasure. I was, perhaps, the only woman of the court whom he would not
love, and yet I was not the least agreeable nor the most ugly. It
was very natural for them to exalt his merit and take him under their
especial protection. Thus was he supported in every quarter by them;
they boasted of his measures, and by dint of repeating in the ears of
every body that M. de Choiseul was a minister _par excellence_, and the
support of monarchy, they had contrived to persuade themselves of the
truth of their assertion. In fact, if France found herself freed from
the Jesuits, it was to the duc de Choiseul that this was owing, and this
paramount benefit assured to him universal gratitude.

The king was fully aware of this unanimity of public opinion in favor of
his minister. He was, besides, persuaded, that in arranging the _pacte
de famille_, and concluding the alliance with the imperial house, the
duc de Choiseul had evinced admirable diplomatic talents, and rendered
France real, and important, service. His attachment to him was
incumbent, and rested on solid foundations. If, at a subsequent period,
he dismissed him, it was because he was deceived by a shameful intrigue
which it will cost me pain to develop to you, because I took by far too
much a leading part in it, which now causes me the deepest regret.

Now, by the act of my presentation, the duc de Choiseul would be
compelled to meet me often, which would render our mutual situation very
disagreeable. On this account the king sought to reconcile us, and
would have had no difficulty in effecting his wishes had he only had the
resistance of the minister and his wife to encounter. The lady had not
much influence over her husband, and besides she had too much good sense
to struggle against the wishes of the king: but the duchesse de
Grammont was there, and this haughty and imperious dame had so great an
ascendancy with her brother, and behaved with so little caution, that
the most odious reports were in circulation about their intimacy.

It could scarcely be hoped that we could tame this towering spirit,
which saw in me an odious rival. Louis XV did not flatter himself that
he could effect this prodigy, but he hoped to have a greater ascendancy
over his minister. It was to the duc de Choiseul, therefore, that he
first addressed himself, desirous of securing the husband and wife
before he attacked the redoubtable sister. The next morning, after my
warm assault on the prince de Soubise, he profited by an audience which
the duke requested at an unusual hour to introduce this negotiation of
a new kind, and the details I give you of this scene are the more
faithful, as the king gave them to me still warm immediately after the
conversation had terminated.

The state affairs having been concluded, the king, seeking to disguise
his voluntary embarrassment, said to the duke, smiling,

"Duc de Choiseul, I have formed for my private hours a most delightful
society: the most attached of my subjects consider themselves highly
favored when I invite them to these evening parties so necessary for my
amusement. I see with pain that you have never yet asked me to admit you
there."

"Sire," replied the duke, "the multiplicity of the labors with which
your majesty has charged me, scarcely allows me time for my pleasures."

"Oh, you are not so fully occupied but that you have still some time to
spend with the ladies, and I think that I used to meet you frequently at
the marquise de Pompadour's."

"Sire, she was my friend."

"Well, and why, is not the comtesse du Barry? Who has put it into
your head that she was opposed to you? You do not know her: she is an
excellent woman: not only has she no dislike to you, but even desires
nothing more than to be on good terms with you."

"I must believe so since your majesty assures me of it; but, sire, the
vast business with which I am overwhelmed--"

"Is not a sufficing plea; I do not allow that without a special motive,
you should declare yourself against a person whom I honor with my
protection. As you do not know her, and cannot have any thing to urge
against her but prejudices founded on false rumors and scandalous
fabrications, I engage you to sup with me at her apartments this
evening, and I flatter myself that when I wish it you will not coin a
parcel of reasons in opposition to my desire."

"I know the obedience that is due to your majesty," said de Choiseul,
bowing low.

"Well, then, do first from duty what I flatter myself you will
afterwards do from inclination. Duc de Choiseul, do not allow yourself
to be influenced by advice that will prove injurious to you. What I ask
cannot compromise you; but I should wish that with you all should be
quiet, that no one should struggle against me, and that too with the
air of contending against a person's station. Do not reply, you know
perfectly what I would say, and I know what belongs to myself."

Here the conversation terminated. The duc de Choiseul did not become my
friend any the more, but behaved towards me with all due consideration.
He used grace and _finesse_ in his proceedings, without mingling with it
anything approaching to nonsense. He never allowed himself, whatever
has been said, to dart out in my face any of those epigrams which public
malignity has attributed to him. Perhaps like many other persons in the
world, he has said many pleasantries of me which have been reported as
said in my presence, but I repeat that he never uttered in my society a
single word with which I had cause to be offended.

At this juncture I received a letter of which I had the folly to be
proud, altho' a little reflection should have made me think that my
situation alone inspired it: it was from M. de Voltaire. This great
genius was born a courtier. Whether he loved the protection of the
great, or whether he thought it necessary to him, he was constantly
aiming, from his youth upwards, at obtaining the countenance of persons
belonging to a high rank, which made him servile and adulatory whilst
they were in power, and full of grimace towards them when the wind
favor ceased to swell their sails. It was in this way that mesdames
de Chateauroux and de Pompadour had had his homage. He had sung their
praises, and, of course, he could not forget me. You will recall to mind
the letter which he wrote to the duc d'Aiguillon, on occasion of the
piece of poetry entitled "_La Cour du Roi Petaud_." He had denied having
composed it, but this denial had not been addressed directly to me.
Having learnt, no doubt, that my credit was increasing, he thought
himself obliged to write to me, that he might rank me with his party. He
might have availed himself of the intermediation of the duc d'Aiguillon,
but preferred putting the duc de Richelieu into his confidence, and
begged him to fulfil the delicate function of literary Mercury. I was
alone when the marechal came to me with an assumed air of mystery. His
first care was to look around him without saying a word; and it was not
until after he had shaken the curtains, and peeped into every corner of
the apartment, that he approached me, who was somewhat surprised at his
monkey tricks.

"I am the bearer," he said, in a low voice, "of a secret and important
communication, which I have been entreated to deliver after five or six
hundred cautions at least: it is a defection from the enemy's camp, and
not the least in value."

Fully occupied by my quarrel with the ladies of the court, I imagined
that he had brought me a message of peace from some great lady; and,
full of this idea, I asked him in haste the name of her whose friendship
I had acquired.

"Good," said he, "it is about a lady, is it? It is from a personage
fully as important, a giant in power, whose words resound from one
extremity of Europe to another, and whom the Choiseuls believe their own
entirely."

 "It is M. de Voltaire," I said.

"Exactly so: your perspicacity has made you guess it."

 "But what does he want with me?"

"To be at peace with you; to range himself under your banner, secretly
at first, but afterwards openly."

"Is he then afraid openly to evince himself my friend?" I replied, in a
tone of some pique.

"Rather so, and yet you must not feel offended at that. The situation
of this sarcastic and talented old man is very peculiar; his unquiet
petulance incessantly gives birth to fresh perils. He, of necessity,
must make friends in every quarter, left and right, in France and
foreign countries. The necessary consequence is, that he cannot follow
a straight path. The Choiseuls have served him with perfect zeal: do not
be astonished if he abandon them when they can no longer serve him. If
they fall, he will bid them good evening, and will sport your cockade
openly."

"But," I replied, "this is a villainous character."

"Ah, I do not pretend to introduce to you an Aristides or an
Epaminondas, or any other soul of similar stamp. He is a man of letters,
full of wit, a deep thinker, a superior genius, and our reputations are
in his hands. If he flatters us, posterity will know it; if he laugh at
us, it will know it also. I counsel you therefore to use him well, if
you would have him behave so towards you."

"I will act conformably to your advice," said I to the marechal; "at the
same time I own to you that I fear him like a firebrand."

"I, like you, think that there is in him something of the infernal
stone: he burns you on the slightest touch. But now, to this letter; you
will see what he says to you. He begs me most particularly to conceal
from every body the step he has taken with you. What he most dreads is,
lest you should proclaim from the housetops that he is in correspondence
with you. I conjure you, on his behalf, to exercise the greatest
discretion, and I think that you are interested in doing so; for, if
what he has done should be made public, he will not fail to exercise
upon you the virulence of his biting wit."

Our conversation was interrupted by a stir which we heard in the
chateau, and which announced to us the king. The marechal hastily
desired me not to show Voltaire's letter to the king until I had read
it previously to myself. "He does not like this extraordinary man," he
added, "and accuses him of having failed in respect, and perhaps you
will find in this paper some expression which may displease him."

Scarcely had I put the epistle in my pocket, when the king entered.

"What are you talking about," said he, "you seem agitated?"

"Of M. de Voltaire, sire," I replied, with so much presence of mind as
to please the duc de Richelieu.

"What, is he at his tricks again? Have you any cause of complaint
against him?"

"Quite the reverse; he has charged M. d'Argental to say to M. de
Richelieu, that he was sorry that he could not come and prostrate
himself at my feet."

"Ah," said the king, remembering the letter to the duc d'Aiguillon,
"he persists in his coquetries towards you: that is better than being
lampooned by him. But do not place too much confidence in this gentleman
of the chamber: he weighs every thing in two scales; and I doubt much
whether he will spare you when he evinces but little consideration for
me."

Certainly Richelieu had a good opportunity of undertaking the defence of
his illustrious friend. He did no such thing; and I have always thought
that Voltaire was the person whom the duke detested more heartily than
any other person in the world. He did, in fact, dread him too much to
esteem him as a real friend.

"M. d'Argental," said the king, "unites then at my court the double
function of minister of Parma and steward of Ferney.* Are these two
offices compatible?"

     * The name of Voltaire's residence--TRANS

"Yes, sire," replied the duke, laughing, "since he has not presented
officially to your majesty the letters of his creation as comte de
Tournay."

The king began to laugh. This was the name of an estate which Voltaire
had, and which he sometimes assumed.



CHAPTER XVI


     Unpublished letter of Voltaire to madame du Barry--Reply of
     the countess--The marechale de Mirepoix--Her first interview
     with madame du Barry--Anecdote of the diamonds of madame de
     Mirepoix--The king pays for them--Singular gratitude of the
     marechale--The portfolio, and an unpublished letter of the
     marquise de Pompadour

By the way in which the king continued to speak to me of M. de Voltaire,
I clearly saw how right the duke was in advising me to read the letter
myself before I showed it to my august protector. I could not read it
until the next day, and found it conceived in the following terms:--

"MADAME LA COMTESSE:--I feel myself urged by an extreme desire to have
an explanation with you, after the receipt of a letter which M. the duc
d'Aiguillon wrote to me last year. This nobleman, nephew of a gentleman,
as celebrated for the name he bears as by his own reputation, and who
has been my friend for more than sixty years, has communicated to me
the pain which had been caused you by a certain piece of poetry, of
my writing as was stated, and in which my style was recognised. Alas!
madame, ever since the most foolish desire in the world has excited me
to commit a great deal of idle trash to paper, not a month, a week, nay,
even a day passes in which I am not accused and convicted of some
great enormity; that is to say, the malicious author of all sorts of
turpitudes and extravagancies. Eh! _mon Dieu_, the entire life-time of
ten men would not be sufficient to write all with which I am charged,
to my unutterable despair in this world, and to my eternal damnation in
that which is to come.

"It is no doubt, much to die in final impenitence; altho' hell may
contain all the honest men of antiquity and a great portion of those of
our times; and paradise would not be much to hope for if we must find
ourselves face to face with messieurs Freron, Nonatte, Patouillet,
Abraham Chauneix, and other saints cut out of the same cloth. But how
much more severe would it be to sustain your anger! The hatred of the
Graces brings down misfortune on men of letters; and when he embroils
himself with Venus and the Muses he is a lost being; as, for instance,
M. Dorat, who incessantly slanders his mistresses, and writes nothing
but puerilities.

"I have been very cautious, in my long career, how I committed such a
fault. If perchance I have lightly assailed the common cry of scribblers
or pendants who were worthless, I have never ceased to burn incense on
the altars of the ladies; them I have always sung when I--could not do
otherwise. Independently, madame, of the profound respect I bear all
your sex I profess a particular regard towards all those who approach
our sovereign, and whom he invests with his confidence: in this I
prove myself no less a faithful subject than a gallant Frenchman; and
I venerate the God I serve in his constant friendships as I would do in
his caprices. Thus I was far from outraging and insulting you still
more grievously by composing a hateful work which I detest with my whole
heart, and which makes me shed tears of blood when I think that people
did not blush to attribute it to me.

"Believe in my respectful attachment, madame, no less than in my cruel
destiny, which renders me odious to those by whom I would be loved. My
enemies, a portion of whom are amongst yours, certainly succeed each
other with frightful eagerness to try my wind. Now they have just
published under my name some attacks on the poor president Henault, whom
I love with sincere affection. What have they not attributed to me to
inculpate me with my friends, with my illustrious protectors, M. le
marechal duc de Richelieu and their majesties the king of Prussia and
the czarina of Russia!

"I could excuse them for making war upon strangers in my name, altho'
that would be a pirate's method; but to attack, under my banner, my
master, my sovereign lord, this I can never pardon, and I will raise
against them even a dying voice; particularly when they strike you with
the same blows; you, who love literature; you, who do me the honor
to charge your memory with my feeble productions. It is an infamy to
pretend that I fire on my own troops.

"Under any circumstances, madame, I am before you in a very delicate
situation. There is in Versailles a family which overwhelms me with
marks of their friendship. Mine ought to appertain to it to perpetuity;
yet I learn that it is so unfortunate as to have no conception of your
merit, and that envious talebearers place themselves between you and it.
I am told that there is a kind of declared war; it is added, that I have
furnished supplies to this camp, the chiefs of which I love and esteem.
More wise, more submissive, I keep myself out of the way of blows; and
my reverence for the supreme master is such, that I turn away my very
eyes that they may not be spectators of the fight.

"Do not then, madame, think that any sentiment of affection has
compelled, or can compel me to take arms against you. I would refuse
any proposition which should rank me as hostile to you, if the natural
generosity of your enemies could so far forget it. In reality they are
as incapable of ordering a bad action as I am of listening to those who
should show themselves so devoid of sense as to propose such a thing to
me.

"I am persuaded that you have understood me, and I am fully cleared
in your eyes. It would be delightful to me to ascertain this with
certainty. I charge M. le marechal duc de Richelieu to explain to you my
disquietude on this head, and the favor I seek at your hands, from you
who command France, whilst I, I ought to die in peace, not to displease
any person, and live wisely with all. I conclude, madame la comtesse,
this long and stupid epistle, which is, in fact, less a letter than a
real case for consideration, by begging you to believe me, etc.,

"VOLTAIRE

"_Ferney_, April 28, 1769. Gentleman in ordinary to the king.

"P. S. My enemies say everywhere that I am not a Christian. I have
just given them the lie direct, by performing my Easter devotions (_mes
paques_) publicly; thus proving to all my lively desire to terminate my
long career in the religion in which I was born; and I have fulfilled
this important act after a dozen consecutive attacks of fever, which
made me fear I should die before I could assure you of my respect and my
devotion."

This apology gave me real pleasure. I pretended to believe the
sincerity of him who addressed me, altho' he had not convinced me of his
innocence; and I wrote the following reply to M. de Voltaire, which a
silly pride dictates to me to communicate to you, in conjunction with
the letter of the philosopher:

"MONSIEUR:--Even were you culpable from too much friendship towards
those you cherish, I would pardon you as a recompense for the letter
you address to me. This ought the more to charm me, as it gives me the
certainty that you had been unworthily calumniated. Could you have said,
under the veil of secrecy, things disagreeable to a great king, for
whom, in common with all France, you profess sincere love? It is
impossible. Could you, with gaiety of heart, wound a female who never
did you harm, and who admires your splendid genius? In fact, could
those you call your friends have stooped so low as not to have feared
to compromise you, by making you play a part unworthy of your elevated
reputation? All these suppositions were unreasonable: I could not for a
moment admit them, and your two letters have entirely justified you. I
can now give myself up without regret to my enthusiasm for you and your
works. It would have been too cruel for me to have learnt with certainty
that he whom I regarded as the first writer of the age had become my
detractor without motive, without provocation. That it is not so I give
thanks to Providence.

"M. the duc d'Aiguillon did not deceive you when he told you that I fed
on your sublime poetry. I am in literature a perfect novice, and yet
am sensible of the true beauties which abound in your works. I am to be
included amongst the stones which were animated by Amphion: this is one
of your triumphs; but to this you must be accustomed.

"Believe also that all your friends are not in the enemy's camp.
There are those about me who love you sincerely, M. de Chauvelin, for
instance, MM. de Richelieu and d'Aiguillon: this latter eulogizes you
incessantly; and if all the world thought as he does, you would be here
in your place. But there are terrible prejudices which my candor will
not allow me to dissemble, which you have to overcome. There is _one_
who complains of you, and this one must be won over to your interests.
He wishes you to testify more veneration for what he venerates himself;
that your attacks should not be so vehement nor so constant. Is it then
impossible for you to comply his wishes in this particular? Be sure that
you only, in setting no bounds in your attacks on religion, do yourself
a vast mischief with the person in question.

"It will appear strange that I should hold such language to you: I only
do it to serve you: do not take my statements unkindly. I have now a
favor to ask of you; which is, to include me in the list of those to
whom you send the first fruits of the brilliant productions of your
pen. There is none who is more devoted to you, and who has a more ardent
desire to convince you of this.

"I am, _monsieur le gentilhomme ordinaire_, with real attachment, etc."

I showed this letter to M. de Richelieu.

"Why," he inquired, "have you not assured him as to your indiscretion,
which he fears?"

"Because his fear seemed to me unjust, and I leave you to represent me
to him as I am; and now," I added, "it does not appear to me necessary
for the king to know anything of this."

"You think wisely, madame; what most displeased him was to see madame de
Pompadour in regular correspondence with M. de Voltaire."

I have related to you this episode of my history, that it may recompense
you for the tiresome details of my presentation. I resume my recital. I
told you that M. de Maupeou had told me that he would endeavor to bring
madame la marechale de Mirepoix, and introduce her to me, trusting to
the friendship she had evinced for madame de Pompadour during the whole
time of the favor and life of her who preceded me in the affections of
Louis XV. I found, to my surprise, that he said nothing to me concerning
it for several days, when suddenly madame la marechale de Mirepoix was
announced.

At this name and this title I rose quite in a fluster, without clearly
knowing what could be the object of this visit, for which I was
unprepared. The marechale, who followed closely on the valet's heels,
did not give me time for much reflection. She took me really _a
l'improviste_, and I had not time to go and meet her.

"Madame la marechale," said I, accosting her, "what lucky chance brings
you to a place where the desire to have your society is so great?"

"It is the feeling of real sympathy," she replied, with a gracious
smile; "for I also have longed for a considerable time to visit you,
and have yielded to my wishes as soon as I was certain that my advances
would not be repulsed."

"Ah, madame.," said I, "had you seriously any such fear? That tells me
much less of the mistrust you had of yourself than of the bad opinion
you had conceived of me. The honor of your visits--"

"The honor of my visits! That's admirable! I wish to obtain a portion of
your friendship, and to testify to the king that I am sincerely attached
to him."

"You overwhelm me, madame," cried I, much delighted, "and I beg you to
give me your confidence."

"Well, now, all is arranged between us: I suit you and you please me. It
is long since I was desirous of coming to you, but we are all under the
yoke of the must absurd tyranny: soon we shall have no permission to
go, to come, to speak, to hold our tongues, without first obtaining the
consent of a certain family. This yoke has wearied me; and on the first
word of the chancellor of France I hastened to you."

"I had begged him, madame, to express to you how much I should be
charmed to have you when the king graced me with his presence. He likes
you, he is accustomed to the delights of your society; and I should
have been deeply chagrined had I come here only to deprive him of that
pleasure."

"He is a good master," said the marechale, "he is worthy of all our
love. I have had opportunities of knowing him thoroughly, for I was most
intimate with madame de Pompadour; and I believe that my advice will not
be useless to you."

"I ask it of you, madame la marechale, for it will be precious to me."

"Since we are friends, madame," said she, seating herself in a chair,
"do not think ill of me if I establish myself at my ease, and take my
station as in the days of yore. The king loves you: so much the better.
You will have a double empire over him. He did not love the marquise,
and allowed himself to be governed by her; for with him--I ask pardon
of your excessive beauty--custom does all. It is necessary, my dear
countess, to use the double lever you have, of your own charms and his
constant custom to do to-morrow what he does to-day because he did it
yesterday, and for this you lack neither grace nor wit."

I had heard a great deal concerning madame de Mirepoix; but I own to
you, that before I heard her speak I had no idea what sort of a person
she would prove. She had an air of so much frankness and truth, that it
was impossible not to be charmed by it. The greater part of the time I
did not know how to defend myself from her--at once so natural and so
perfidious; and occasionally I allowed myself to love her with all my
heart, so much did she seem to cherish me with all enthusiasm. She had
depth of wit, a piquancy of expression, and knew how to disguise those
interested adulations with turns so noble and beautiful that I have
never met, neither before nor since, any woman worthy of being compared
with her. She was, in her single self, a whole society; and certainly
there was no possibility of being wearied when she was there. Her temper
was most equable, a qualification rarely obtained without a loss of
warmth of feeling. She always pleased because her business was to
please and not to love; and it always sufficed her to render others
enthusiastic and ardent. Except this tendency to egotism, she was
the charm of society, the life of the party whom she enlivened by her
presence. She knew precisely when to mourn with the afflicted, and joke
with the merry-hearted. The king had much pleasure in her company: he
knew that she only thought how to amuse him; and, moreover, as he had
seen her from morning till evening with the marquise de Pompadour, her
absence from my parties was insupportable to him, and almost contrary to
the rules of etiquette at the chateau.

I cannot tell you how great was his satisfaction, when, at the first
supper which followed our intimacy, he saw her enter. He ran to meet her
like a child, and gave a cry of joy, which must have been very pleasing
to the marechale.

"You are a dear woman," he said to her, with an air which accorded with
his words, "I always find you when I want you; and you can nowhere be
more in place than here. I ask your friendship for our dear countess."

"She has it already, sire, from the moment I saw her; and I consider my
intimacy with her as one of the happiest chances of my life."

The king showed the utmost good humor in the world during the rest
of the evening. He scolded me, however, for the mystery I had made in
concealing from him the agreeable visit of the marechale. I justified
myself easily by the pleasure which this surprise caused him; and, on my
side, gave my sincere thanks to the chancellor.

"You owe me none," said he; "the good marechale felt herself somewhat
ill at ease not to be on close terms with her who possesses the
affections of the king. It is an indispensable necessity that she should
play a part in the lesser apartments; and as the principal character no
longer suits her, she is contented to perform that of confidante, and
ran here on my first intimation."

"Never mind the motive that brought her," I said; "she is a companion
for me much more desirable than madame de Bearn."

"First from her rank," said the chancellor, smiling maliciously, "and
then by virtue of her cousinship with the Holy Virgin."

I confess that I was ignorant of this incident in the house of Levi; and
I laughed heartily at the description of the picture, in which one of
the lords of this house is represented on his knees before the mother of
God, who says to him, "_Rise, cousin_"; to which he replies, "_I know my
duty too well, cousin._" I took care, however, how I joked on this point
with the marechale, who listened to nothing that touched on the nobility
of the ancestors of her husband or on those of her own family.

Great had been the outcry in the palace against the duc de la Vauguyon
and madame de Bearn, but how much louder did it become on the defection
of the marquise de Mirepoix. The cabal was destroyed; for a woman of
rank and birth like the marechale was to me a conquest of the utmost
importance. The princesse de Guemenee and the duchesse de Grammont were
wofully enraged. This they manifested by satirical sneers, epigrams,
and verses, which were put forth in abundance. All these inflictions
disturbed her but little; the main point in her eyes was to possess the
favor of the master; and she had it, for he felt that he was bound to
her by her complaisance.

He was not long in giving her an unequivocal proof of his regard. The
duc de Duras asked her, in presence of the king and myself, why she did
not wear her diamonds as usual.

"They are my representatives," was her reply.

"What do you mean by representatives?" said I.

"Why, my dear countess, they are with a Jew instead of my sign-manual.
The rogue had no respect for the word of a relation of the Holy Virgin
and the daughter of the Beauvau. I was in want of thirty thousand
francs; and to procure it I have given up my ornaments, not wishing to
send to the Jew the old plate of my family, altho' the hunks wanted it."

We all laughed at her frankness, and the gaiety with which she gave this
statement, but we went no further; to her great regret, no doubt, for
I believe that the scene had been prepared between her and M. de Duras,
either to let her profit in time of need, or else that she wished to
pluck a feather from our wing. When I was alone with the king, he said,

"The poor marechale pains me; I should like to oblige her and think I
will give her five hundred louis."

"What will such a petty sum avail her? You know what she wants; either
send her the whole or none. A king should do nothing by halves."

Louis XV answered me nothing; he only made a face, and began to walk
up and down the room. "Ah," said I, "this excellent woman loves your
majesty so much, that you ought to show your gratitude to her, were it
only to recompense her for her intimacy with me."

"Well, you shall carry her the sum yourself, which Lebel shall bring
you from me. But thirty thousand francs, that makes a large pile of
crown-pieces."

"Then I must take it in gold."

"No, but in good notes. We must not, even by a look, intimate that she
has _sold_ her visits to us. There are such creatures in the world!"

The next morning Lebel brought me a very handsome rose-colored
portfolio, embroidered with silver and auburn hair: it contained the
thirty thousand francs in notes. I hastened to the marechale. We were
then at Marly.

"What good wind blows you hither?" said madame de Mirepoix.

"A royal gallantry," I replied; "you appeared unhappy, and our excellent
prince sends you the money necessary to redeem your jewels."

The eyes of the lady became animated, and she embraced me heartily. "It
is to you that I owe this bounty of the king."

"Yes, partly, to make the present entire; he would only have given you
half the sum."

"I recognize him well in that he does not like to empty his casket.
He would draw on the public treasury without hesitation for double the
revenue of France, and would not make a division of a single crown of
his own private _peculium_."

I give this speech _verbatim_; and this was all the gratitude which
madame de Mirepoix manifested towards Louis XV. I was pained at it, but
made no remark. She took up the portfolio, examined it carefully, and,
bursting into a fit of laughter, said, while she flung herself into an
arm-chair,

"Ah! ah! ah! this is an unexpected rencontre! Look at this portfolio, my
dear friend: do you see the locks with which it is decorated? Well, they
once adorned the head of madame de Pompadour. She herself used them to
embroider this garland of silver thread; she gave it to the king on his
birthday. Louis XV swore never to separate from it, and here it is in my
hands."

Then, opening the portfolio, and rummaging it over, she found in a
secret pocket a paper, which she opened, saying, "I knew he had left
it."

It was a letter of madame de Pompadour, which I wished to have, and the
marechale gave me it instantly; the notes remained with her. I copy the
note, to give you an idea of the sensibility of the king.

"SIRE,--I am ill; dangerously so, perhaps. In the melancholy feeling
which preys upon me, I have formed a desire to leave you a souvenir,
which will always make me present to your memory. I have embroidered
this portfolio with my own hair; accept it; never part with it. Enclose
in it your most important papers, and let its contents prove your
estimation of it. Will you not accord my prayer? Sign it, I beseech you;
it is the caprice, the wish of a dying woman."

Beneath it was written,

"This token of love shall never quit me. Louis."



CHAPTER XVII


     Conversation of the marechale de Mirepoix with the comtesse
     du Barry on court friendship--Intrigues of madame de Bearn--
     Preconcerted meeting with madame de Flaracourt---Rage of
     madame de Bearn--Portrait and conversation of madame de
     Flaracourt with the comtesse du Barry--Insult from the
     princesse de Guemenee--Her banishment--Explanation of the
     king and the duc de Choiseul relative to madame du Barry--
     The comtesse d'Egmont

However giddy I was I did not partake in the excessive gaiety of madame
de Mirepoix. I was pained to see how little reliance could be placed
on the sensibility of the king, as well as how far I could esteem the
consideration of the marechale for madame de Pompadour, from whom she
had experienced so many marks of friendship. This courtier baseness
appeared to me so villainous, that I could not entirely conceal how I
was affected with displeasure. Madame de Mirepoix saw it, and, looking
at me attentively, said,

"Do you feel any desire to become pathetical in the country we live in?
I warn you that it will be at your own expense. We must learn to content
ourselves here with appearances, and examine nothing thoroughly."

"'There is then no reality?" said I to her.

"Yes," she answered me, "but only two things, power and money: the rest
is 'leather and prunella' (_contes bleus_): no person has time to love
sincerely; it is hatred only that takes deep root and never dies.
To hope to give birth to a real passion, an Orestean and Pyladean
friendship, is a dream from which you must be awakened."

"Then you do not love me?"

"You ask me a very awkward question, my darling, I can tell you. I do
love you, and very much, too: I have proved it by ranging myself on your
side, and by declaring, with the utmost frankness, that I would rather
see you in the situation in which you are, than any other woman of the
court. But there is a long space between this and heroical friendship: I
should deceive you if I were to affirm the contrary, and there would
be no common sense in giving faith to my words. Every one has too much
business, too much intrigue, too many quarrels on hand, to have any
leisure to think of others: every one lives for himself alone. Mesdames
de Guemenee and de Grammont appear very intimate: that is easily
explained, they unite against a common enemy. But were your station left
vacant, no sooner would the king have thrown the apple to one of them,
but the other would detest her instantly."

Contrary to custom I made no reply: I was absorbed in painful
reflections to which this conversation had given rise. The marechale
perceived it, and said,

"We should fall into philosophy if we probed this subject too deeply.
Let us think no more of this: besides, I have a new defection to tell
you of. Madame de Flaracourt told me yesterday that she much regretted
having misunderstood you, and that you were worth more than all those
who persecute you. She appeared to me disposed to ally herself to you
for the least encouragement which you might be induced to hold out to
her."

"You know very well," I replied, "that I am willing to adopt your
advice. The house of Flaracourt is not to be despised, and I ask no
better than to be on amicable terms with the lady."

"Well, then, come this morning and walk in the grove nearest the
pavilion, I shall be there with madame de Flaracourt: we will meet by
chance, compliments will follow, and the alliance will be formed."

The marechale and I had scarcely separated when madame de Bearn was
announced. This lady besieged me night and day. Gifted with a subtle and
penetrating spirit--that talent which procures advancement at court,
she saw, with pain, that I sought to attract other females about me:
she would fain have remained my only friend, that she might, unopposed,
influence me in all I did. She saw, therefore, the appearance of madame
de Mirepoix in my drawing-room with uneasiness: her bad humor was
sufficiently apparent to attract the notice of the marechale, who
laughed at it: her social position as a titled woman, and the king's
friendship, giving her confidence that her credit would always exceed
that of my godmother.

Madame de Bearn was compelled to submit to the ascendancy of the
marechale, but yet did not the less relax in her efforts to keep from
me all other female society, she hoped that at last the king would
distinguish her, and call her into his intimacy as my friend; she was
not more fond of the comtesse d'Aloigny, altho' the nullity of this
lady need not have alarmed her much. For me, I began to resent the
irksomeness of having incessantly at my side a person who manifested too
openly her desire to compel me to submit to her wishes, and I waited, to
secure my freedom, only until the circle of females I could admit to my
society should be extended.

Such were our reciprocal feelings during our stay at Marly. The madame
de Bearn watched me with more care than at Versailles, fearing, no
doubt, that the freedom of the country might facilitate connections
prejudicial to her interests. Little did she anticipate on this day the
stroke which was in preparation for her. I asked her spitefully to
take a turn with me into the park, and I took care not to announce the
meeting which we had arranged.

Behold us then walking this way and that, quite by chance, without
however going any distance from the pavilion. Madame de Bearn, not
liking the vicinity of the chateau, was desirous to go into the wood. I
declined this under vain excuses, when suddenly madame de Mirepoix and
madame de Flaracourt appeared at the end of a very short walk.

"Let us turn this way," said the countess to me, "here comes one of our
enemies, whom it would be as well to avoid."

"Why turn away?" I replied; "she is alone, we are two, and then the
marechale de Mirepoix is not opposed to us."

Saying this, I advanced towards them. Madame de Flaracourt appeared very
gracious: I replied to her advances with due politeness, and instead
of separating, we continued to walk about together. Madame de Bearn
saw clearly that chance was not the sole cause of this meeting: she
dissembled as well as she could. I afterwards learnt that she owed me a
spite, particularly for the mystery which I had made of this occurrence.
The marked silence, and the sullen air she assumed during this
interview, and which her sense and knowledge of the world should have
prevented her from manifesting, proved to me, on this occasion, as on
many other others, that temper cannot always be conquered, and that at
times it will burst forth in spite of the experience and caution of the
courtier.

I did not give myself much trouble on this subject: I had well
recompensed the good offices of the countess: I had ample proof that in
serving me she had acted on the impulse of self-interest: we were quits,
I thought, and I saw no reason why I should remain isolated just to
serve her pleasure.

When we returned to my apartments I saw plainly, by her mutterings, her
sighs, and the shrugging of her shoulders, that she was deeply
irritated at what had just taken place. She was desirous of provoking
an explanation, but as that could only tend to her disadvantage, she
contented herself with leaving me earlier than her usual want, without
saying anything disagreeable. Her custom was not to leave me alone, and
her abrupt departure confirmed me in the idea I had imbibed, that this
sort of comedy had much thwarted her.

In the course of the same day I received a visit from the comtesse
de Flaracourt. This lady, whose sparkling eyes shone with an air of
mischief, presented herself to me with an appearance of openness and
confidence which completely cloaked the malignity and treachery of
her character. She threw her arms round my neck with as much grace as
tenderness, and taking my hand, as if to arrest my attention, said:

"I ought, madame, to explain to you the delay that I have made before
I introduce myself to you, as well as the promptitude of this my first
visit. I was prejudiced against you, and had formed a false estimate of
you. My _liaison_ with mesdames d'Egmont, de Brionne, and de Grammont
naturally placed me in the rank opposed to you: so much for what has
passed. But I have seen you: I have studied you at a distance, as well
as close, and I have recognised, without difficulty, the injustice of
your enemies. I have been enraged with myself for having been deceived
regarding you: I wish to repair my wrongs. Enlightened by the opinion
of the marechale de Mirepoix, I have not hesitated to approach you under
her auspices, and our first meeting has so happily furnished me with an
opportunity of appreciating you, that I would not delay any longer the
pleasure of making you a personal avowal of my past sentiments, and of
those with which you now inspire me."

The tone in which madame de Flaracourt uttered these words was so
gracious and so persuasive, that I could not resist the pleasure of
embracing her. She returned my kiss with the same eagerness, and would
not listen to my thanks.

"All is explained between us," she continued, "let us forget the past,
and let us do as if meeting for the first time to-day; we henceforward
date this as the first of our acquaintance."

"The affability with which you have presented yourself to me," I
replied, "does not permit me to believe that I have only known you from
this morning; I am in an illusion which will only allow me to look on
our recent alliance as an ancient friendship."

After having exchanged some conversation of the same tenor, we talked of
my situation as regarded the other females of the court.

"They hate you for two reasons," said the countess: "in the first
place, because you have made a conquest which all the world envies you;
secondly because you are not one of us. There is not one family who can
lean on you in virtue of the rights of blood, or alliances which stand
instead of it. You have superseded a woman who more than any other could
have a claim to your good fortune: she is sister to the prime minister,
who has in her train, like Lucifer, more than a third part of heaven,
for all the courtiers hang on her brother.

"On the other hand, we are not accustomed to remain so long in
opposition to the will of the king. Such a resistance is not natural to
us; it weighs upon us, it harms us, the favor of our master being our
chief good. We are only something thro' him, and when combatting against
him we have neither the courage nor the perseverance. Thus you may be
very certain that the majority of women who oppose you do it against the
grain: and if you add to this that they are incessantly exposed to the
murmurs and complaints of their husbands, sons, brothers, and lovers,
you will easily be convinced that they only aspire to finding a means
of reconciling the regard they owe to the Choiseuls and the terror which
they inspire, with the desire they have to seek your protection and the
friendship of the king. The cabal only flies on one wing, and I cannot
divine its situation at the commencement of the next winter. Do not
disquiet yourself any more with what it can do: keep yourself quiet;
continue to please the 'master,' and you will triumph over the multitude
as easily as you have conquered the resistance of mesdames."

Such was the language of the comtesse de Flaracourt: it agreed, as you
will perceive, with that of madame de Mirepoix, and I ought the more
to believe it, as it was the fruit of their experience and profound
knowledge of court manners. Their example proved to me, as well as their
words, that all those who approached the king could not bear for a long
time the position in which he placed those whom he did not look upon
with pleasure. However, Louis XV evinced more plainly from day to day
the ascendancy I had over his mind. He assisted publicly at my toilette,
he walked out with me, left me as little as possible, and sought by
every attention to console me for the impertinences with which my
enemies bespattered me. The following anecdote will prove to you how
little consideration he had for those persons who dared to insult me
openly.

One day at Marly, I entered the drawing-room; there was a vacant seat
near the princesse de Guemenee, I went to it, and scarcely was seated
when my neighbor got up, saying, "What horror!" and betook herself to
the further end of the room. I was much confused: the offence was too
public for me to restrain my resentment, and even when I wished to do so
the thing was scarcely possible. The comte Jean, who had witnessed
it, and my sisters-in-law, who learnt it from him, were enraged. I was
compelled to complain to the king, who instantly sent the princesse de
Guemenee an order to quit Marly forthwith, and betake herself to the
princesse de Marsan, _gouvernante_ of the children of the royal family
of France, of whose post she had the reversion.

Never did a just chastisement produce a greater effect. The outcry
against me was louder than ever, it seemed as tho' the whole nobility
of France was immolated at "one fell swoop." To have heard the universal
clamor, it would have been thought that the princess had been sent to
the most obscure prison in the kingdom. This proof of the king's regard
for me did much mischief, no doubt, as it furnished my enemies with a
pretext to accuse me of a vindictive spirit. Could I do otherwise? Ought
I to have allowed myself to be overwhelmed with impunity, and was it
consistent with the dignity of my august protector, that I should be
insulted thus openly by his subjects, his courtiers, his guests, even in
the private apartments of his palace?

However, this wrath of the nobility did not prevent the Choiseul family
from experiencing a feeling of fright. They had just received a signal
favor. The government of Strasbourg, considered as the key of France and
Alsace, had been given in reversion to the comte de Stainville, brother
of the duc de Choiseul. Certainly this choice was a very great proof of
the indulgence of the king, and the moment was badly chosen to pay with
ingratitude a benefit so important. This did not hinder the duchesse de
Grammont, and all the women of her house, or who were her allies, from
continuing to intrigue against me. It was natural to believe that the
king would not permit such doing for a long time, and that should he
become enraged at them, that I should attempt to soothe his anger.

Matters were in this state, when one morning, after his accustomed
routine, the duc de Choiseul requested a private audience of the king.
"I grant it this moment," said the prince, "what have you to say to me?"

"I wish to explain to your majesty how excessively painful is the
situation in which I am placed with regard to some of the members of my
family. All the females, and my sister at their head, attack me about a
quarrel which is strange to me, and with which I have declared I would
not meddle."

"You do well, monsieur le duc," said the king, with cool gravity, "I am
much vexed at all that is going on, and have resolved not to suffer it
any longer."

The decision of this discourse made a deep impression M. de Choiseul: he
sought to conceal it whilst he replied:

"It is difficult, sire, to make women listen to reason."

"All are not unreasonable," rejoined the king: "your wife, for instance,
is a model of reason and wisdom: she has perfect control of herself. She
is the wise woman of scripture."

This flattery and justly merited eulogium, which the king made of the
duchess whenever he found an opportunity, was the more painful to M. de
Choiseul, as his conduct was not irreproachable towards a woman whose
virtues he alone did not justly appreciate. It was a direct satire
against his sister's conduct, whose ascendancy over him, her brother,
the king well knew. He replied that the good behavior of his wife was
the safeguard of his family, and he greatly regretted that the duchesse
de Grammont had not a right to the same eulogium.

"I beg you," said the prince, "to engage her to change her language, and
to conduct herself with less boldness, if she would not have me force
her to repent."

"That, sire, is a mission painful to fulfil, and words very hard to
convey to her."

"So much the worse for her," replied the king, elevating his voice, "if
she bear any friendship for you, let her prove it in this particular:
your interests should keep her mouth shut."

The duke had no difficulty to comprehend the indirect menace implied: he
instantly renewed his regrets for the _disagreeable_ disturbances that
had occurred.

"Add _insulting_," said Louis XV. "I am content with you and your
services, duke. I have just proved this to you, by giving your brother
more than he could expect from me; but have not I the right to have my
intimacies respected? It appears to me that if you spoke more decidedly
in your family you would command more attention."

"This makes me fear, sire, that your majesty does not believe me sincere
in my expression of the regret which I just took the liberty to utter to
your majesty."

"_Mon Dieu_, monsieur le duc, you certainly do not like madame du
Barry."

"I neither like nor hate her, sire; but I see with trouble that she
receives at her house all my enemies."

"Whose fault is that if it be so? Your own; you, who would never visit
her; she would have received you with pleasure, and I have not concealed
from you the satisfaction I should have experienced."

These last words made the duke start, his eyes became animated. After a
moment's reflection he said to the king,

"Sire, is it indispensably necessary for the service of the state that I
endeavor to attain the good-will of madame la comtesse du Barry?"

"No."

"Well, then, sire, allow matters to remain as they are. It would cost me
much to quarrel with my whole family, the more so as this sacrifice
is not useful to you, and would in no wise alter my position with your
majesty."

However painful to the king such a determination might be, he did not
allow the duke to perceive it; he dissembled the resentment he felt, and
contented himself with saying,

"Duc de Choiseul, I do not pretend to impose chains on you; I have
spoken to you as a friend rather than as a sovereign. Now I return to
what was said at first, and accept with confidence the promise you make
me not to torment a lady whom I love most sincerely."

Thus ended a conversation from which the duke, with a less haughty
disposition, might have extracted greater advantages and played a surer
game. It was the last plank of safety offered in the shipwreck which
menaced him. He disdained it: the opportunity of seizing it did not
present itself again. I doubt not but that if he would have united
himself freely and sincerely with me I should not have played him false.
Louis XV, satisfied with his condescension in my behalf, would have kept
him at the head of his ministry: but his pride ruined him, he could not
throw off the yoke which the duchesse de Grammont had imposed on him: he
recoiled from the idea of telling her that he had made a treaty of peace
with me, and that was not one of the least causes of his disgrace.

The journey to Marly gave birth to a multitude of intrigues of persons
who thought to wrap themselves up in profound mystery, and all whose
actions we knew. The police were very active about the royal abodes,
especially since the fatal deed of the regicide Damiens. To keep them
perpetually on the watch, they were ordered to watch attentively the
amours of the lords and ladies of the court.

The daughter of the duc de Richelieu, the comtesse d'Egmont, whose age
was no pretext for her follies, dearly liked low love adventures. She
used to seek them out in Paris, when she could find none at Versailles.
She was not, however, the more indulgent towards me. This lady was not
always content with noble lovers, but sought them in all classes, and
more than once, simple mortals, men of low order, obtained preference
over demi-gods. Her conduct in this respect was the result of long
experience. She used to go out alone, and traverse the streets of Paris.
She entered the shops, and when her eye rested on a good figure, having
wide shoulders, sinewy limbs, and a good looking face, she then called
up all the resources of her mind to form and carry on an intrigue, of
which the consequences, at first agreeable to him who was the object
of it, terminated most frequently fatally. The following adventure will
give you an idea of the talent of madame d'Egmont in this way, and how
she got rid of her adorers when she had exhausted with them the cup of
pleasure.



CHAPTER XVIII


     Intrigue of the comtesse d'Egmont with a shopman--His
     unhappy fate--The comtesse du Barry protects him--Conduct of
     Louis XV upon the occasion--The young man quits France--
     Madame du Barry's letter to the comtesse d'Egmont--Quarrel
     with the marechal de Richelieu

The comtesse d'Egmont was one day observed to quit her house attired
with the most parsimonious simplicity; her head being covered by an
enormously deep bonnet, which wholly concealed her countenance, and the
rest of her person enveloped in a pelisse, whose many rents betrayed its
long service. In this strange dress she traversed the streets of Paris
in search of adventures. She was going, she said, wittily enough, "to
return to the cits what her father and brother had so frequently robbed
them of." Chance having led her steps to the rue St. Martin, she was
stopped there by a confusion of carriages, which compelled her first to
shelter herself against the wall, and afterwards to take refuge in an
opposite shop, which was one occupied by a linen-draper.

She looked around her with the eye of a connoisseur, and perceived
beneath the modest garb of a shopman one of those broad-shouldered
youths, whose open smiling countenance and gently tinged complexion
bespoke a person whose simplicity of character differed greatly from the
vast energy of his physical powers: he resembled the Farnese Hercules
upon a reduced scale. The princess approached him, and requested to see
some muslins, from which she selected two gowns, and after having paid
for them, requested the master of the shop to send his shopman with
them, in the course of half an hour, to an address she gave as her usual
abode.

The comtesse d'Egmont had engaged an apartment on the third floor of
a house in the rue Tiquetonne, which was in the heart of Paris. The
porteress of the dwelling knew her only as madame Rossin: her household
consisted of a housekeeper and an old man, both devoted to a mistress
whose character they well understood, and to whom they had every motive
to be faithful.

Here it was, then, that the lady hastened to await the arrival of the
new object of her plebeian inclinations. Young Moireau (for such was
the shopman's name) was not long ere he arrived with his parcel. Madame
d'Egmont was ready to receive him: she had had sufficient time to
exchange her shabby walking dress for one which bespoke both coquetry
and voluptuousness; the softness of her smile, and the turn of her
features announced one whose warmth of passions would hold out the most
flattering hopes of success to him who should seek her love.

Madame Rossin and the young shopman were soon engaged in conversation,
further animated by the bright glances sent direct from the eyes of
madame to the unguarded heart of her admiring visitor. Emboldened by
the graciousness of her manner, he presumed to touch her fair hand: the
lady, in affected anger, rose, and commanded him to quit the house. The
terrified youth fell at her feet, imploring pardon for his boldness,
and then hastily quitted the room ere the feigned madame Rossin could
pronounce the forgiveness he demanded. "The fool," was (doubtless) the
princess's exclamation, "had he been brought up at court he would have
conducted himself very differently."

This silliness of proceeding was, however, far from being displeasing to
the princess: on the contrary, it seemed to increase her determination
to prosecute the adventure. Accordingly, on the following day she
hastened to resume her former walking dress, and in it to take the
road which led to the rue St. Martin, and again to present herself as a
customer at the linen-draper's shop. This time she purchased cloth for
chemises. Indescribable and unspeakable was the joy of young Moireau,
when, after having served the mistress of his thoughts, he heard her
request of his master to allow the goods she had selected to be sent to
her residence; and equally was he surprised that she omitted to name
him as the person she wished should convey them. Nevertheless, as may be
imagined, Moireau obtained possession of the parcel, and was soon on his
way to the rue Tiquetonne, where he found the lady more languishing and
attractive than before; and soon they were deep in the most earnest and
interesting conversation. Moireau, who now saw that his boldness was
not displeasing to the lady, became more and more presuming: true, his
overtures were refused, but so gently, that it only fanned his flame;
nor was it till after reiterated prayers that he succeeded in obtaining
her promise to meet him on the following Sunday. The princess, like
a skilful manoeuvrer, reckoned upon the additional violence his ardor
would receive from this delay. The affection with which she had inspired
him would only gain strength by thus deferring the day for their next
meeting, whilst he would have time to meditate upon the virtue as well
as the charms of her he had won.

The long looked for Sunday at length arrived, and Moireau was first at
the place of rendezvous. His simple dress augmented his natural good
looks, whilst the countess had spared no pains to render her appearance
calculated to captivate and seduce. All reserve was thrown aside; and to
satisfy the eager curiosity of her lover, she stated herself to be the
widow of a country lawyer, who had come to Paris to carry on a lawsuit.
It would be useless to follow the princess during the further course
of this meeting. Suffice it to say, that Moirreau and madame d'Egmont
separated mutually happy and satisfied with each other.

The youth, who was now ages gone in love, had only reached his
twenty-second year, and madame Rossin was his first attachment. So
ardent and impetuous did his passion hourly grow, that it became a
species of insanity. On the other hand, the high-born dame, who had thus
captivated him, felt all the attractions of his simple and untutored
love, further set off by the fine manly figure of the young shopman.
Indeed, so much novelty and interest did she experience in her new
amour, that, far from finding herself, as she had expected, disposed
to relinquish the affair (as she had anticipated) at the end of two
or three interviews, which she had imagined would have satisfied her
capricious fancy, she put off, to an indefinite period, her original
project of ending the affair by feigning a return to the country.

This resolution, however, she did not feel courage to carry into effect;
and two or three months rolled rapidly away without any diminution of
their reciprocal flame, when one fine Sunday evening Moireau, whose time
hung heavily on his hands, took it into his head to visit the opera.
This species of amusement constitutes the _ne plus ultra_ of the
delights of a French cit. Moireau seated himself in the pit, just
opposite the box of the gentlemen in waiting. The performance was
"Castor and Pollux." At the commencement of the second act a sudden
noise and bustle drew Moireau from the contemplative admiration into
which the splendor of the piece had thrown him. The disturbance arose
from a general move, which was taking place in the box belonging to the
gentlemen in waiting. Madame d'Egmont had just arrived, attended by four
or five grand lords of the court covered with gold, and decorated with
the order of the Holy Ghost, and two ladies richly dressed, from whom
she was distinguished as much by the superior magnificence of her attire
as by her striking beauty.

Moireau could not believe his eyes; he felt assured he beheld madame
Rossin, yet he fancied he must be under the influence of some fantastic
dream; but every look, every gesture of the princess, a thousand
trifles, which would have escaped the notice of a common observer, but
which were engraved in indelible characters on the heart of her admirer,
all concurred to assure him that he recognised in this lovely and
dazzling female, so splendidly attired and so regally attended, the
cherished mistress of his affections; she whom that very morning he had
held in his embrace. He addressed a thousand questions to those about
him, from whom he learnt his own good fortune and the exalted rank
of her he had won. Scarcely could he restrain the burst of joy, when
informed that the fair object, glittering with jewels and radiant
in beauty, was the daughter of Richelieu, and the wife of one of the
princes of the noble houses of Egmont.

A thousand tumultuous and flattering ideas rushed in crowds to the brain
of young Moireau, and he saw in anticipation a long and brilliant vista
opening before him. Poor inexperienced youth! He mistook the wisest and
safest path, which would have been to have appeared ignorant of the
high rank of his mistress, and to have induced her, from motives of
affection, to preside over his fortunes, and to rise by her means
without allowing her to suspect he guessed her ability to bestow riches
and preferment. He, on the contrary, hastened to her with the account of
his having discovered her real rank and station. Madame d'Egmont, whose
self-possession enabled her to conceal the terror and uneasiness his
recital inspired her with, listened calmly and silently till he had
ceased speaking, and then asked him, with a playful smile, if he was
quite sure of being in his right senses? "For how otherwise could you,"
said she, "confuse a poor obscure widow like myself with the rich and
powerful princess you speak of? My friend, you are under the influence
of a dream; believe me, I am neither more nor less than poor widow
Rossin, and can boast of no claim to the illustrious name of Egmont or
Richelieu."

But the more she spoke the less she persuaded, and young Moireau was not
to be reasoned out of his conviction of her identity with the high-born
princess of Egmont, and he alternately employed threats and promises
to induce her to confess the fact; but the lady was firm and immovable.
Resolved at all risk to preserve her incognito, she found herself
compelled to bring the affair to a conclusion, by feigning extreme anger
at the pertinacity with which Moireau importuned her upon a subject
which she protested she knew nothing: her lover retaliated, and a
desperate quarrel ensued. Moireau rushed angrily from her presence,
vowing that he would publish his adventure thro'out Paris; an empty
threat, which his devotion to the princess would never have permitted
him to carry into execution.

Madame d'Egmont, however, was not so sure that her secret was safe, and
she lost not an instant in repairing to the house of M. de Sartines, to
obtain from him a _lettre de cachet_ against the aspiring shopman, who,
seized in the street, was conveyed away, and confined as a maniac in
a madhouse, where, but for a circumstance you shall hear, he would
doubtless be still.

I happened to be with the king when the lieutenant of police arrived
upon matters connected with his employment. According to custom, Louis
inquired whether he had anything very amusing to communicate to him?
"Many things, sire," replied he, "and amongst others an anecdote of
madame d'Egmont"; and he began to relate to us, word for word, what I
have written you. The king laughed till he cried; as for me, altho' I
could not help finding the tale sufficiently comic to induce risibility,
I listened with more coolness; and when it was completed, I exclaimed,

"Can it be, sire, that you will permit this unfortunate young man to be
the eternal victim of so unprincipled a woman?"

"What would you have me do?" said Louis; "how can I interfere without
compromising the reputation of madame d'Egmont?"

"Allow me to say," replied I, "that this fear ought not to prevent your
majesty's interference. You are father of your subjects; and the respect
you entertain for madame d'Egmont should not outweigh your duty, which
imperatively calls upon you to command the release of this wretched
young man."

"But," argued the king, "by such a step I shall for ever disoblige the
duc de Richelieu and his family."

"Fear it not," cried I, "if your majesty will trust to me, I will
undertake to bring the marechal and his nephew to approve of your
proceedings; and as for the rest of his family, let them go where
they will; for the empire of the world I should be sorry to bear them
company."

This manner of speaking pleased the king; and, turning to M. de
Sartines, "Lieutenant of police," said he, "you have heard my fair
chancellor; you will act in strict conformity with the orders she will
transmit you from me."

"Then take these orders now, sir," said I: "in the first place, this
ill-treated young Moireau must immediately be set at liberty, and my
own police (for I must tell you I had them) will give me the faithful
account of all your proceedings in this affair."

The king comprehended my meaning. "You will keep a careful watch," added
he to M. de Sartines, "that no harm befalls this unfortunate youth,
whom, I beg, you will discreetly recommend to quit France ere the malice
of those who have reason to fear his reappearance works him some evil."

"And who, sire," asked I, "shall dare injure one whom your majesty
deigns to honor with your protection?"

"Madame," replied M. de Sartines, "even his majesty's high patronage
cannot prevent a secret blow from some daring hand; a quarrel purposely
got up; a beverage previously drugged; a fall from any of the bridges
into the river; or, even the supposition of one found dead, having
destroyed himself."

"You make me shudder," said I, "in thus unveiling the extent of human
depravity. So, then, this young man, whose only fault appears to have
been that captivating the eyes of a noble lady, should perish in
a dungeon, or save his life at the sacrifice of country, friends,
connections; and all this for having listened to the passion of a
woman, as licentious in manners as illustrious by birth: this frightful
injustice rouses all my indignation. Well, then, since the power of the
monarch of France is insufficient to protect his oppressed subject
in his own realms, let him shield him from want in a foreign land, by
allowing him a pension of one hundred louis. I will take upon myself to
defray the expenses of his journey."

Thus saying, I was hastening to the adjoining room, where stood my
_secretaire_, to take from it a thousand crowns I wished to give for the
purpose. The king held me back by my arm, saying to me,

"You are the most excellent creature I know of, but you see I am always
master. I will undertake to provide for this young man. M. de Sartines,"
pursued he, "I wish to secure to him a thousand crowns yearly; and,
further, you will supply him with six thousand francs ready money,
which M. de la Borde will repay to your order. _Now are you satisfied,
Couci?_" said the king, turning to me.

My only reply was to throw my arms around his neck without ceremony,
spite of the presence of a witness, who might blush at my familiarity.
"You are indeed," said I, "a really good prince; it is only a pity you
will not assert your right to rule alone."

"You are a little rebel," cried he, "to doubt my absolute power." This
tone of playful gaiety was kept up some time after the departure of the
lieutenant of police.

M. de Sartines returned next day to tell me that everything had been
accomplished to my desire. "M. Moireau," said he, "has left prison,
and departs for Spain to-morrow morning: his intention is to join
some friends of his at Madrid. He is informed of all he owes you,
and entreats your acceptance of his most grateful and respectful
acknowledgments. Will you see him?"

"That would be useless," answered I; "say to him only, that I request he
will write to me upon his arrival at Madrid, and give me the history of
his late adventure in its fullest details."

Moireau did not disappoint me; and so soon as his letter reached me I
hastened to copy it, merely suppressing the date of the place from which
it was written, and forwarded it immediately to the comtesse d'Egmont,
with the following note:--

"The many proofs of tender attachment with which the widow Rossin
honored young Moireau make me believe that she will learn with pleasure
of my having the good fortune to rescue the ill-fated youth from the
cruelty of the comtesse d'Egmont. This interesting young man no longer
groans a wretched prisoner in the gloomy abode that haughty lady had
selected for him, but is at this minute safe in a neighboring kingdom,
under the powerful patronage of king of France, who is in possession of
every circumstance relative to the affair. I likewise know the whole of
the matter, and have in my keeping the most irrefragable proofs of all
that took place and should I henceforward have any reason to complain of
the comtesse d'Egmont, I shall publish these documents with permission
of those concerned.

"The public will then be enabled to judge of the virtue and humanity of
one who affects to treat me with a ridiculous disdain. There exists
no law against a fair lady having lovers and admirers, but a stern one
forbids her to command or procure their destruction. I KNOW ALL; and
madame d'Egmont's future conduct will decide my silence and discretion.
The affair with Moireau is not the only one, others of even a graver
sin preceded it. I can publish the whole together; and, I repeat, my
determination on this head depends wholly and entirely upon the manner
in which madame d'Egmont shall henceforward conduct herself towards me.
I beg madame de Rossin will allow me to subscribe myself, with every
feeling she so well, merits,

"Her very humble and most obedient servant,

"THE COMTESSE DU BARRY"

I had communicated to no one the secret of this vengeance; I wished to
keep the delight of thus exciting the rage of the princesse d'Egmont all
to myself. I was certain, that whatever might henceforward be her line
of conduct towards me, that whenever she found herself in my presence,
she would bitterly feel the stings of an accusing conscience, and the
gnawings of that worm which dieth not in the heart of hypocritical and
wicked persons, more especially when compelled to meet the eye of those
who could unmask them in a minute.

On the following day I received a visit from the duc de Richelieu. Spite
of the many endeavors he made to appear smiling and good humored, a deep
rage kept its station round his mouth, and contracted his lips even in
the midst of the artificial smile with which he sought to dissimulate
his wrath.

"Madame, good morning," said he to me, "I come to offer my
congratulations, you really are become quite one of us; upon my word,
the most experienced courtier has nothing more to teach you."

"I am as yet in ignorance of the cause to which I may ascribe these
compliments, M. le marechal, which I greatly fear surpass my poor
merits; and which even you will be compelled to retract them when I am
better known to you."

"Fear it not, madame," said he, "your commencement is a master-stroke;
and the letter you yesterday addressed to the comtesse d'Egmont--"

"Ah, sir," exclaimed I, with unfeigned astonishment, "in her place I
certainly should not have selected you as my confidant in the affair."

"And who could she better have selected than her father? But that is not
the matter in hand. My daughter is filled with anger against you; and if
I must speak the truth, I do not think your behavior towards her quite
what it should have been."

"Really, monsieur, I was not prepared for a reproach of this kind; and
what can madame d'Egmont allege against me? 'Tis she who has pursued me
with the most bitter sarcasms, the most determined malice; and, I may
add, the most impertinent behavior. I entreat your pardon for using such
strong expressions, but her behavior allows of none milder. And what
have I done in my turn? snatched from a lingering death an unfortunate
young man, whose only crime consisted in having pleased this
unreasonable madame d'Egmont. I procured the king's protection for
the miserable object of the princess's affection; I obtained his safe
removal to another country; and, having done all this, I communicated
my knowledge of the transaction to the comtesse d'Egmont. Does this bear
any comparison with her line of conduct towards me?"

"But your letter, madame; your letter--"

"Would bear alterations and amendments, sir, I am aware: I admit I did
not sufficiently insist upon the atrocity of such an abuse of power."

"You are then resolved, madame, to make us your enemies."

"I should be very sorry, monsieur le duc, to be compelled to such
extremities; but if your friendship can only be purchased at the price
of my submitting to continually receive the insults of your family, I
should be the first to cease to aspire to it. If Madame d'Egmont
holds herself aggrieved by me, let her carry her complaint before
the parliament; we shall then see what redress she will get. She has
compromised the king's name by an arbitrary act; and since you thus
attack me, you must not take it amiss if I make the king acquainted with
the whole business."

The marechal, surprised at so severe a reply, could no longer restrain
the rage which filled him. "I should have thought, madame," said he,
"that my daughter, in whose veins flows royal blood, might have merited
some little consideration from the comtesse du Barry."

"It is well, then, monsieur le duc," replied I, "to point out to you
your error. I see in my enemies their works and actions alone, without
any reference to their birth, be it high or low; and the conduct of
madame d'Egmont has been so violent and unceasing towards me, that it
leaves me without the smallest regret for that I have pursued towards
her."

I had imagined that this reply would still further irritate the angry
feelings of the duc de Richelieu, but it did not: he easily guessed that
nothing but the king's support could have inspired me to express myself
with so much energy; and, if paternal vanity strove in his heart,
personal interests spoke there with even a louder voice. He therefore
sought to lay aside his anger, and, like a skilful courtier, changing
his angry look and tone for one of cheerfulness:

"Madame," said he, "I yield; I see it will not do to enter the lists
against you. I confess I came this morning but to sound your courage,
and already you have driven me off the field vanquished. There is one
favor I would implore of your generosity, and that is, to be silent as
to all that has transpired."

"I shall not speak of it, monsieur le duc," replied I, much moved,
"unless you or madame d'Egmont set me the example."

"In that case the affair will for ever remain buried in oblivion; but,
madame, I will not conceal from you, that my daughter has become your
most bitter and irreconcilable enemy."

"The motives which have actuated me, monsieur le marechal, are such as
to leave me very little concern upon that subject. I flatter myself this
affair will not keep you away from me, who would fain reckon as firmly
on your friendship as you may do on mine."

The marechal kissed my hand in token of amity, and from that moment the
matter was never mentioned.

A similar scene had already occurred with the prince de Soubise,
relative to the exile of his daughter. Was it not somewhat strange, as
well as unjust, that all the noblemen of the day wished to preserve
to their relations the right of offending me with impunity, without
permitting me even the right of defending myself.



CHAPTER XIX


     Madame du Barry separates from madame de Bearn--Letters
     between these ladies--Portrait of madame de l'Hopital--The
     ladder--The bell--Conversation with madame de Mirepoix--
     First visit to Chantilly--Intrigues to prevent the countess
     from going thither--The king's Displeasure towards the
     princesses--The archbishop de Senlis The spoiled child of
     fortune, I had now attained the height of my wishes. The
     king's passion augmented daily, and my empire became such as
     to defy the utmost endeavors of my enemies to undermine it.
     Another woman in my place would have employed her power in
     striking terror amongst all who were opposed to her, but for
     my own part I contented myself with repulsing their attempts
     to injure me, and in proceeding to severity only when my
     personal interests were too deeply concerned to admit of my
     passing the matter over in silence.

There was no accusation too infamous to be laid to my charge; amongst
other enormities they scrupled not to allege that I had been the
murderess of Lebel, the king's _valet-de-chambre_, who died by poison!
Was it likely, was it probable that I should seek the destruction of him
to whom I owed my elevation, the most devoted of friends, and for whom
my heart cherished the most lively sense of gratitude? What interest
could I possibly derive from the perpetration of such a crime? The
imputation was too absurd for belief, but slander cares little for the
seeming improbability of such an event. The simple fact remained that
Lebel was dead, of course the cruel and unjust consequence became in the
hands of my enemies, that I had been the principal accessory to it.

My most trifling actions were misrepresented with the same black
malignity. They even made it a crime in me to have written to madame
de Bearn, thanking her for her past kindnesses, and thus setting her
at liberty to retire from the mercenary services she pretended to
have afforded me. And who could blame me for seeking to render myself
independent of her control, or for becoming weary of the tyrannical
guidance of one who had taken it into her head that I had become her
sole property, and who, in pursuance of this idea, bored and tormented
me to death with her follies and exactions, and even took upon herself
to be out of humor at the least indication of my attaching myself to
any other lady of the court. According to her view of things, gratitude
imposed on me the rigorous law of forming an intimacy with her alone; in
a word, she exercised over me the most galling dominion, which my family
had long counselled me to shake off; in truth, I was perfectly tired of
bearing the yoke her capricious and overbearing temper imposed upon me,
but I determined, if possible, to do nothing hastily, and to endure it
with patience as long as I could. But now that the number of my female
friends was augmented by the addition of the marquise de Montmorency and
the comtesse de l'Hopital I determined no longer to bear the constant
display of madame de Bearn's despotic sway, and finding no chance of
accommodating our tastes and humors, I resolved to free myself from her
thraldom. Another powerful reason for this measure was the dislike with
which the king regarded her; not that she was deficient in birth or
good breeding, but amidst the polish of high life she occasionally
introduced the most vulgar and provincial manners, a fault of all others
most offensive to the king, whose disgust was further excited by the
undisguised avidity with which, at every opportunity, she sought to turn
her admission to the king's private society to account, by preferring
some request or soliciting some particular favor. Instead of giving
herself up to the joy and hilarity that reigned around, she seemed
always on the watch to seize every possible advantage to herself.
Immediately that the king was apprized of my intention of dismissing her
from any further cares for me, "You are quite right," said he, "to get
rid of this troublesome woman, who never visits us without calculating
the degree of interest she can derive from it, and seems to me, whenever
she approaches me, as tho' she were devising some fresh petition to
obtain from me. And now, too, that the first ladies of the court fill
your drawing-rooms, why should you endure her importunate presence?"

Strengthened by these sentiments on the king's part, I lost no time in
writing to madame de Bearn a letter, of which many false copies were
circulated; however, I subjoin the following as the veritable epistle
addressed by me to the countess:--

"MADAME,--It would be the height of selfishness on my part to tax
further the kindness and attention you have been pleased to show me. I
am well aware how many public and private duties claim your care, and I
therefore (with much regret) beg to restore to you that liberty you have
so generously sacrificed to my interests. Conscious of the ennui which
oppresses you in this part of the country, I write to entreat that you
will allow no consideration connected with me to detain you longer in a
place so irksome, but, since our visit to Marly is concluded, fly upon
the wings of impatience to the gay scenes of Paris and Luxembourg. Be
assured that it will at all times afford me much pleasure to evince the
gratitude with which I shall ever remain,

"Madame, yours sincerely,

"THE COMTESSE Du Barry."

"P. S. I am commissioned to entreat your acceptance of the accompanying
casket; it is the gift of one whose favors are never refused; you
will easily guess, to whom I allude, and I doubt not bring yourself to
conform to the usual custom."

The jewels sent were a pair of ear-rings and an _agrafe_ of emeralds
encircled with diamonds. The king was desirous of bestowing upon madame
de Bearn this particular mark of his recollection of her services
towards me, but it did not allay the indignation with which she
expressed her sense of my bitter ingratitude, as she termed it, as
tho' her interested cooperation had not been sufficiently repaid.
Nevertheless, she forbore to come to a decided quarrel with me, but
satisfied herself with loading me with every reproach in private, whilst
she wrote to thank me for all the favors I had bestowed upon her, and
entreated I would keep her remembrance alive in the mind of my royal
protector. As there was nothing offensive in the style of the letter I
showed it to the king; when he came to the part where madame de Bearn
recommended herself to his kind recollection, and expressed her desire
to be permitted to throw herself once more at his feet, "Heaven preserve
me," cried he, "from receiving this mark of the lady's respect. No, no,
she is bad enough at a distance; I should be bored to death were she so
near to me as she prays for. Thank God we have got rid of her, and now
trust to your own guidance; try the powers of your own wings to bear you
in safety, I feel persuaded you will never be at a loss."

About this time the prince de Soubise, anxious to evince that he no
longer retained any feelings of coolness towards me, requested his
mistress, madame de l'Hopital, to call upon me. This lady, without being
a regular beauty, was yet very attractive. She was past the meridian of
her charms, but what she wanted in youth she amply compensated for by
the vivacity and brilliancy of her conversation, as well as the freedom
of her ideas, which made her the idol of all the old libertines of the
court. The prince de Soubise was greatly attached to her, and preferred
her in reality, to mademoiselle Guimard, whom he only retained for
form's sake, and because he thought it suitable to his dignity to have
an opera dancer in his pay; this nobleman (as you will find) had rather
singular ideas of the duties attached to his station.

Madame de l'Hopital had had a vast number of gallant adventures, which
she was very fond of relating. I shall mention two of the most amusing,
which will serve to convey an idea of the skilfulness and ready wit with
which she extricated herself from the most embarrassing circumstances.

A young man, whose love she permitted, whose name was the chevalier
de Cressy, was obliged, in order to visit her, to scale a terrace upon
which a window opened, which conducted to the sleeping-room of his
mistress. He was generally accompanied by his valet, a good-looking
youth, who, disliking a state of idleness, had contrived to insinuate
himself into the good graces of the lady's maid. The valet, during
his master's stay with madame, had likewise ascended the terrace, and
penetrated, by the aid of another window, into the chamber where reposed
the object of his tender love. All this was accomplished with as little
noise as possible, in order to prevent the mischance of awakening the
marquis de l'Hopital, who was quietly asleep in an adjoining room.

One clear moonlight night, at the very instant when M. de Cressy
was about to step out of the window, in order to return to his own
apartment, a terrible crash of broken glass was heard. The terrified
chevalier sought the aid of his ladder, but it had disappeared. Not
knowing what to do, the chevalier returned to madame de l'Hopital, who,
seized with terror, had only just time to conceal him in her chamber,
when the marquis opened his window to ascertain the cause of all this
confusion. In an instant the alarm spread, and heads were popped out
of the different windows of the castle, each vieing with the other in
vociferating "Thieves! thieves! murder! fire!"

The unfortunate author of all this disturbance was the unlucky valet;
who, in his overeagerness to reach his Dulcinea, had attempted to climb
his ladder so nimbly, that it fell down, and, striking against the
windows of a room near which he had fixed it, had broken several panes
of glass. The poor valet never stopped to replace the ladder; but,
terrified as well as hurt by his rapid descent, scrambled off as well as
he could, abandoning his master in his present critical situation.

The ladder thrown down in the courtyard was abundant proof that some
audacious attempt had been made upon the lives and safety of the
inhabitants of the castle; and the general determination was to catch
the thieves: for, it was presumed, as no outlet for their escape was
discernible, that they must be concealed within its walls. The servants,
with their master at their head, were speedily assembled for the
purpose, when the absence of the chevalier de Cressy was observed. Where
could he be? was the general wonder. Was it possible that, amidst the
universal uproar with which the castle had resounded, he had slept so
soundly as to be yet unconscious of all this bustle? An over-officious
friend was upon the point of going to his chamber, to ascertain
the cause of his absenting himself at such a moment, when madame de
l'Hopital sent to request her husband would come to her immediately.
"Sir," said she, when they were alone, "the disturbance which has
thus broken our rest is not the work of thieves, but originates in the
shameless licentiousness of a man unworthy of his name and the rank he
occupies. The chevalier de Cressy, forgetful of his being your guest,
and of respecting the honor of all beneath your roof, has dared to carry
on a base intrigue with my woman, in whose apartment you will find him
at this very minute. A conduct so profligate and insulting fills me with
an indignation which I think that you, sir, after what you have heard,
cannot but partake."

The marquis de l'Hopital, who did not see the thing in the same serious
light, sought to appease the virtuous indignation of his lady, and went
himself to release the chevalier from his place of concealment; leading
him thro' his own apartment to join the crowd of armed servants, who,
as may be supposed, were unable to detect the supposed invaders of their
repose.

On the following morning the chevalier as agreed upon, wrote a
penitential letter to madame, entreating her pardon for his improper
attentions to her servant, whom she affected to dismiss with every mark
of gravest displeasure. The weeping Abigail threw herself at the feet of
her mistress: and the compassionate marquis (before whom the scene was
enacted), touched with pity, implored his lady to receive the afflicted
and penitent Javotte once more into her service. This was at length
granted to his solicitations; and Javotte received a hundred louis as
the price of her silence, and found it sufficient compensation for the
bad opinion the marquis entertained of her virtue.

The second trick the marchioness played her husband was not less
amusing.

The chevalier de Cressy and herself could not meet so frequently as both
desired; and whilst suffering under the void occasioned by his absence,
chance threw in her way a young relative of her husband's, a youth of
about eighteen, as beautiful as Love, and as daring as that god. They
were then in the country during the fine days of summer, and both time
and place were favorable to the prosecution of their growing passion.
One day madame de l'Hopital and her cousin were sauntering about the
park heedless of the approaching dinner-hour, and equally deaf to the
sound of the dinner-bell, which rung its accustomed peal in vain for
them whose ears were occupied in listening to sweeter sounds. At length
the master of the house, alarmed at the protracted absence of his wife
and friend, went himself, attended by many guests assembled at his
house, in search of the stray ones; the servants likewise received
orders to disperse themselves over the grounds in different directions;
and madame de l'Hopital and her companion were only aroused to a
recollection of the flight of time by hearing their names loudly shouted
by a dozen different voices. Fortunately they were just in time to
separate in opposite paths, and thus to enter the castle without any
suspicion being excited of their having been so recently in each other's
company. The marquis angrily remonstrated with his lady for having
obliged him to send in search of her, and she excused herself by
protesting that she had not heard the dinner-bell. The marquis replied,
that the thing was impossible; and after some angry discussion the
matter rested there.

A few days after this the marchioness, with her husband and cousin, were
rambling over the grounds, when they found themselves at the entrance of
a hermitage, where madame de l'Hopital had told the marquis she had
sat down to rest herself on the day of her failing to attend the
dinner-hour. M. de l'Hopital resumed the dispute, by protesting that
from this situation the dinner-bell might easily be heard: the lady
continued firm in protesting it could not, till, at last, feigning
extreme anger, she exclaimed. "Well then, sir, since you refuse to
believe _my_ assertion, go yourself and ring the bell as loudly as you
please, your cousin will remain here with me, and determine if it be
possible to distinguish the sound from here."

The fool of a marquis set off in the height of his zeal to convince
his wife, and, arriving at the turret where the bell was placed, began
ringing it with all his might and main, leaving the lovers the
undisturbed opportunity they were not slow in taking advantage of. When
the marquis had ceased his chimes, the loving pair went to meet him.

"Well, my good cousin," inquired he, as they approached, "which of us
was right? Could you hear it or not?"

"Yourself, most assuredly," replied the young man, not without a slight
blush. "I can assure you that both madame and myself heard the bell the
whole time you were ringing it."

"There, I told you so; I told you so"; cried the delighted husband,
triumphantly rubbing his hands.

I thought when this lively and piquant adventure was related to me, that
it was well worthy of being immortalized by the pen of a La Fontaine.
The marchioness gave these anecdotes with a grace and talent peculiarly
her own; and I sometimes imagined that some of the many she favored
us with had perhaps taken place in a more recent period than that she
assigned to them; and that, in order to divert our suspicions as to who
were the real actors, she frequently substituted the _past_ for what
should have been with more correctness the _present_ time. With manners
so calculated to win, she could not fail being a delightful companion,
altho' in my heart I could not help giving the preference to the society
of the marechale de Mirepoix.

Besides, the preference evinced by this lady in so generously separating
herself from all her family, in order to attach herself to me, was
not without its full value in my eyes. I knew myself to be generally
disliked by her brother and sister-in-law, the prince and princesse
de Beauvau, the latter of whom was secretly the mistress of the duc de
Choiseul, over whom she exercised an equal empire with the duchesse de
Grammont, and I was every day the object of some fresh attack on their
part. I used sometimes to complain of this to the marechale. "My dear
friend," she would reply, "I am sorry, but cannot help it; in the midst
of times such as we live in, and in such a court too, the prince de
Beauvau aspires to be a noble Roman, and would fain be the Cato of his
country at least. When I recommend to him a greater degree of prudence,
he talks to me of virtue, as tho' at Versailles duty did not consist in
implicit obedience to the wishes of our royal master; either obedience
or absence from court is the golden rule laid down, from which none dare
deviate. As to my sister-in-law she aims at the heroic likewise, altho
her models are formed from another school; in fact, she has pored
over the romances of Cyrus. Cassander, and Clelia, till she is half
bewildered, and holds forth upon the virtues of these famous heroines,
till I am frequently upon the point of exclaiming, 'Ah, my dear, it is
all very fine; but Clelia and Mandane would not have shared their bed
with the duc de Choiseul.'"

By these lively sallies the marechale succeeded in diverting my anger
from her relations, and I generally forgot my resentment in a hearty fit
of laughter, brought on by her sprightly conversation. I found myself
becoming daily more attached to her, and her presence helped to console
me for the many vexations I continually encountered.

The greatest disagreeableness I encountered was occasioned by the
capricious behavior of the princesses, who sometimes received me with
pleasure and at others evinced a disposition to annoy me in every
possible way, according as it suited the whims and wishes of those about
them. The following may serve as an instance of their versatility.

The prince de Conde having announced his intention of giving a grand
Fete at Chantilly, the princesses declared they would not be present if
I were there. The prince de Conde, spite of his claims to the character
of a great man, was nevertheless one of the most subtle courtiers;
and as soon as he was informed of the princesses' intention, he came,
without ceremony, to explain the matter to me. This was the first visit
he had honored me with. "Madame," said he, "I had flattered myself you
would have embellished Chantilly with your presence; but the beauties
of the court, too justly alarmed at the idea of being eclipsed by your
dazzling charms, have so successfully manoeuvred, that they have wrought
upon the royal daughters of our august monarch to declare, that the
beauty of their attending nymphs shall not be effaced by yours. You have
too much good sense to see the affair in any but its true light; and the
disappointment your absence will inflict on me would be too cruelly
felt for endurance, did I not seek to pacify my anxious wishes on the
subject, by obtaining your promise to pay me a visit when the king next
honors Chantilly with his presence."

I felt deeply flattered by the invitation. The prince continued to pay
me several elegant and gallant compliments; and I was, upon the whole,
charmed with our interview. However, the king was highly displeased with
his daughters' proceedings. "I have a great inclination," said he,
"to forbid their going to Chantilly at all. Upon my word, if I were to
listen to them, they would fain make of me the same puppet they allow
themselves to become in the hands of the greatest simpleton who will
take the trouble of leading them."

I endeavored to appease his anger, by reminding him, that he could not
expect perfection from his daughters; and that, forced as they were
to hear me continually spoken ill of by my enemies, it was next to
impossible they should be able to prevent themselves from adopting
the opinion of those around them. "And that," said he, "is what I
principally find fault with. What have they to do with aping the tone
of those about them; and what point of their duty teaches them to detest
those whom I love? I will take care to let them know my displeasure."

All my endeavors were in vain; I could obtain no change of his purpose;
and, summoning the archbishop de Senlis, he spoke to him in a manner
that plainly evinced his intention of making him responsible for the
actions of the princesses. Poor M. de Roquelaure called all the saints
in paradise to witness his innocence.

"Silence, sir," exclaimed the king, "I am perfectly certain this affair
has not gone on without your knowledge and probable participation. I
know you well for a person devoted to the ladies, as a gay, gallant
gentleman need be: I know likewise that you expend the revenues of your
bishopric and livings upon the prettiest girls of Paris; thus I can
hardly suppose you would have counselled my daughters' conduct. No, I
blame those wicked and vindictive scandal-mongers, whose age is their
only protection, and those intriguing men who beset my daughters' ears."

"Sire," protested the trembling bishop, "I entreat you to believe I am
innocent of the whole affair."

"Sir," interrupted the king, "I know well that you are as good a
courtier as a prelate, but still I believe you merely ape your betters;
and far from entertaining any personal dislike to the comtesse du Barry,
you would not object to receive either the archbishopric of d'Albi or
Sens from her hands, were they in her power to bestow."

The conversation went on in this style for more than half an hour. The
king, who had amused himself highly at the terror of the bishop, left
off in excellent humor.

This interview had not been productive of equal amusement to M. de
Roquelaure, whose self-love had been deeply humbled by the way in which
the king had spoken. No sooner did he feel himself at liberty, than he
hastened to communicate to the princesses the violent displeasure they
had excited; and these ladies, so brave and daring whilst their father
appeared to offer no show of authority or anger, durst proceed no
further when they heard of his seriously disapproving of it; and they
felt the full inconsistency of their conduct, in first admitting me into
their presence, and then refusing to meet me at any other place. The
consequence of their deliberation upon the subject was to depute the
bishop de Senlis to call upon me. This accommodating prelate discharged
his mission with the utmost amenity, presenting me with the united
compliments of the royal sisters, who all joined in requesting the
pleasure of meeting me at Chantilly. Had not the prince de Conde held
out the flattering prospect of giving me a Fete wholly to myself, in all
probability I should have profited by their invitation; but knowing of
the secret intention of the prince, I returned for answer, "that it
was sufficiently flattering and gratifying to me, to find that I still
preserved any portion of the princesses' kind favor, but that I was
abundantly honored by the intimation of my presence being agreeable.
Nevertheless, as I had good authority for conjecturing that it might
not be equally so to many of the ladies of their court, I should abstain
from giving offence to any one by my presence."

"Ah, madame," cried M. de Roquelaure, "I entreat of you not to insist
upon my carrying the latter part of this message to the princesses, they
would be so much grieved."

"Well, then, sir," said I, "tell them that I am indisposed, and that the
state of my health will detain me at Versailles."

"That indeed," said he, "is a more respectful message; and further
I would venture to ask of your goodness, that since it is not your
pleasure to honor Chantilly with your presence, that you will have the
kindness to mention in the proper quarter, that far from my royal ladies
opposing any obstacle to your going, they would have been much delighted
with your presence there."

"Be assured, sir," answered I, "that I shall ever feel proud and honored
by the princesses' notice; and I will take care that the faithful
account of all their gracious condescension shall be faithfully and
loudly reported."

The bishop departed much pleased with the success of his negotiation;
and, above all, with the agreeable turn the affair had taken.

When I next saw the king, I said to him, "Your daughters, sire, are as
amiable as you would have them; they have been informed that some evil
disposed persons have asserted, that they had prohibited my being of the
party to Chantilly; and in order to testify how differently they were
disposed towards me, they despatched the bishop de Senlis."

"A most fit person to be intrusted with such a commission," replied the
king; "for I have, in every instance, endeavored to justify the
wishes of this holy pillar of the church, this worthy prelate with his
double-faced politeness, towards those whom he openly compliments, and
reviles in private, just as his interest may require it. Well! and what
did you say to him?"

"That I most humbly thanked the princesses, but that the state of my
health did not permit of my visiting Chantilly for the present."

"That is all very well," answered Louis XV; "you have framed your
excuse with much generosity, which I greatly fear will meet with a very
different turn; for if you do not accompany me to Chantilly, the
report circulated will be, that the princesses have forbidden you their
presence; which my dearly beloved daughters, whose characters I fully
understand, will neither affirm nor deny before the public, whilst in
private they will vow that they prohibited you from following them.
Always excepting madame Louise, who is an angel upon earth, as she will
most assuredly be one day in heaven, where I trust her prayers for me
and mine will be heard."

I did not at the time pay any particular attention to the latter part
of the king's discourse, for, indeed, the beginning was far more
interesting to me; but when I afterwards learnt that madame Louise had
quitted the grandeurs of Versailles for the gloom and austerity of a
convent I recollected it, and easily comprehended that it was spoken in
allusion to an event which took place some time afterwards, and of which
I shall speak in its proper place. However, the king's prediction was
exactly verified; and the report in general circulation was, that the
princesses had declared their intention of not going to Chantilly; it
was further rumored, that I was there, but in a private and concealed
manner. This is wholly untrue; the king would never have permitted such
a humiliation; nor do I believe I should have submitted to it had he
even desired it. However all this may be, he sought to recompense me for
his absence by writing a most delightful letter, which I will subjoin
for your gratification. To me it was of so much the greater value, that
having its royal writer's permission to show it, it became the first
death-blow I aimed at the cabal against me. The king possessed a much
greater portion of wit and talent than the weakness and timidity of his
character permitted to appear.



CHAPTER XX


     Unpublished letter of Louis XV--Madame du Barry's cousin, M.
     de Maupeou--The comtesse du Barry saves the life of a young
     girl seduced by the arts of the cure of her village--She
     obtains pardon of the comte and comtesse de Louerne--The
     king presents her with Lucienne--A second meeting with the
     youthful prophet--His further predictions--He is sought for--
     His mysterious letter to the countess

"How does my sweet friend contrive to bear our tedious separation?
is she happy and amused? In that case I can say, she has greatly the
advantage over him who now addresses her. No, my lovely countess, I am
dragging on a tedious and uninteresting existence, spite of the great
and earnest endeavors of my good cousin and host to provide for my
enjoying the gaiety by which I am surrounded; but, alas! amidst the many
faces with which his mansion is thronged, that one which is dearest
to me is wanting, and all becomes a blank in my eyes; and I yawn with
irrepressible weariness in the midst of the glittering pageants given
to honor my arrival; and you may rest assured that I shall hail with
delight the termination of a visit, which seems already to have swelled
the period of our separation into ages. I will not attempt to conceal
from you, that those who have good cause to envy your supreme dominion
over my heart, have set every scheme in action to lead me even into
a temporary oblivion of you, but their attempts are as vain as their
impotent rivalry, and need cause no uneasiness to you, my beloved
friend. I frequently smile at the vast pains and precautions of which
my '_sacred person_' is the object; and I am _continually_ encountering
'_by chance_' some of those fair ladies who would fain usurp your place,
sometimes bedecked with jewels rare, and sometimes, as Racine says,

"_------ dans le simple appareil D'une beaute, qu'on vient d'arracher au
sommeil._'

"Madame de Grammont, for instance, takes an infinity of trouble
respecting my choice of your successor, which she is resolved shall be
either herself or one of her choosing. I protest to you that I find all
these plots and counterplots very amusing; and can only say, that my
daughters, who are completely duped by those practising them, must be
more completely deceived than I had imagined possible. Nor can I quite
deny that I feel a half mischievous delight in reducing to despair,

"'_------- ce peuple de rivales Qui toutes, disputant, d'un si grand
interet, Des yeux d'Assuerus attendent leur arret._'

"_Assuerus_ (which, of course, means me) keeps one perpetual reply to
all their high-sounding praises and eulogiums of such or such a lady.
'She is well enough, certainly; but the comtesse du Barry excels her a
hundredfold': then follow such shrugs, such contortions of countenance,
and such vain efforts to repress the rage of disappointed vanity and
ambition, that I am nearly ready to die with laughter.

"Apropos of dying; I inquired the number of deaths which took place at
Chantilly last week; only four, they say! Now I think that number quite
sufficient for the size of the place. I walked as far as the village
cemetery, which is large and judiciously placed. I must tell you, that
one of my footmen has gone to that last journey from which none return:
he was a tall, presuming sort of fellow, remarkable for nothing but
his impertinence, and the continual scrapes he was forever getting into
amongst the soubrettes. However, he met with his death in some sudden
brawl. My people sought to conceal this piece of intelligence from me;
but having once heard of it, I despatched Flamarens to ascertain in what
corner of the cemetery he has been interred.

"The duc de Tresmes talks much of you, and boasts greatly to the honor
of your friendship; he has dubbed himself your '_sapajou_'; this is not
amiss for a peer of France, and what is still more gratifying, he has
assumed a title which, I believe, no one in the kingdom will attempt
to dispute his incontestable claim to call his own. Villeroi is
all impatience to return to Versailles. The dukes of Richelieu and
d'Aiguillon, both uncle and nephew, recommend themselves to your
kind recollection. Thus you see you may reckon upon a few devoted and
attached friends, even without him, whose hand is busily tracing these
lines, and he, I can promise you, is inferior to none in the truest love
and affection for you.

"The ladies of whom I would have you be most on your guard are mesdames
de C., de B., de P., de G. They really throw themselves in my way till I
can call them nothing but fools for their pains; but I must do them the
justice to say that they are less ambitious than you, and so that they
could rob you of your place would care very little whether I could offer
them my heart with the other honors to which they aspire; in fact, 'tis
time we were together again, for the people here seem determined to
profit by my stay amongst them. My cousin entertains us magnificently,
and pleasure succeeds pleasure in a continual round of enchantment: he
tells me he has others still more charming in store against the time
when you will honor him with your presence. Am I right in promising this
will be ere very long? Adieu, what a long letter have I written you. I
will now conclude by bestowing an imaginary kiss on that lovely face,
which must satisfy me till I have the felicity of seeing you again.

"And now, my dear friend and fairest countess, I will end my lengthened
epistle by praying God to have you ever in His holy care and keeping."

The receipt of this letter afforded me the liveliest pleasure, and
I wrote to the king regularly every night and morning. I might here
introduce a specimen of my own epistolary style, but I will not; for
altho' the whimsical and extravagant things my pen gave utterance to
were exactly to the king's taste, they might surprise you; but my royal
correspondent loved the wild and bizarre turn of my expressions, and I
fulfilled his wishes; perhaps it was not the only instance in which I
gratified his inclination.

My _cousin_, the chancellor of France, had remained to keep me company
instead of joining the party at Chantilly. _My cousin_, say you, and by
what right or title could M. de Maupeou become such? I will tell
you. First of all he only aspired to the honor of relationship, but
afterwards, turning over the archives of his family, he found the most
incontestable proofs of his belonging to the ancient families of the
du Barry; and full of joy, he hurried to me, unrolling at my feet
his genealogical tree, to the great amusement of comte Jean and my
sisters-in-law, who, after a long examination, declared that he was
justly entitled to the appellation of first cousin; from that period
he always addressed me _cousin_, which I flattered him by returning
whenever I was in the humor.

About this period I was the happy instrument in saving from death a
young girl whose judges (as will be seen) were about to sentence her
to be hanged without fully understanding whether she were innocent or
guilty. This unfortunate creature was a young and pretty country girl,
whose worthy pastor, the cure de Liancourt, had availed himself of the
influence he possessed, and of the advantages of his authority over
the poor creature's mind, to seduce her from the paths of virtue.
Unfortunately, just at the time when she expected to produce a living
witness of their amour, and when she trusted to the cares of the cure to
procure for her those comforts her unfortunate situation required, the
author of her shame was suddenly carried off by a violent death, and the
wretched girl, either thro' ignorance or the shame of having listened to
the illicit passion of a priest, neglected to make any of those formal
declarations required by the law, and gave birth to a dead infant.
The justice of the village, informed of her fault, caused her to be
arrested, and recorded against her sentence of death, a decision which
was afterwards approved by parliament.

The poor girl was in this extremity when, happily for her, M. de
Mandeville, a worthy man from either Normandy or Picardy, who had served
in the black musketeers, resolved upon attempting the revocation of the
severe sentence which had been passed upon her, by addressing the king
thro' my mediation; he accordingly followed me to Marly, where I then
was, and lost no time in forwarding to me the following billet:--

"MADAME,--Beauty has ever been found the inseparable companion of
goodness; to yours I would appeal to obtain the favor of an immediate
audience. My reasons for requesting it are not to solicit either place
or pension, but to save the life of an erring creature whose crime
has been that of ignorance. I await your reply with the most lively
impatience, and have the honor to remain, etc., etc."

This note puzzled me excessively, however I gave orders for the
immediate introduction of M. de Mandeville, whose appearance was even
more prepossessing than his note; he looked and spoke like an honorable
man endowed with that sensibility so precious and so rare; he put
into my hands the petition, whilst he explained to me the particulars
relative to it, and I instantly wrote to the chancellor the following
note, of which a thousand copies were taken in the course of the day.
Altho' it has been many times in print, I shall offer no apologies for
again submitting it to your perusal.

"MONSIEUR LE CHANCELLOR,--I do not profess to understand your laws, but
they seem to me as unjust as barbarous. They are contrary to both reason
and humanity, if they put to death an unfortunate female for giving
birth to a still-born child without having previously disclosed her
situation to any one; and yet, according to the memorial annexed to
this, the petitioner is so circumstanced. Here is an unhappy girl about
to pay with the forfeit of her life for her ignorance of such a law,
or because the modesty and even shame attendant upon her disgraced
condition prevented her conforming to it. I appeal to your sense of
justice; the wretched girl, concerning whom I write, is a fit object
for the exercise of your lenity, and I venture to assure myself that you
will at least effect the commutation of her punishment. Your own kind
feelings will dictate all I would ask further for her.

"I am, etc., etc."

I felt very certain that, from the manner in which I had expressed
myself, the consent of M. de Maupeou was quite certain; I therefore said
to my visitor, the handsome musketeer,

"And now, sir, the noble work of charity, in which you have associated
me must be completed: go yourself and see the chancellor, tell him
you come from me, and do not quit him till you obtain the reply I have
solicited."

M. de Mandeville loaded me with thanks and praises which I did not
really merit, because in the present instance I acted as much from
the wish to gratify my own feelings as his. My name and my letter were
talismans before which all doors flew open, and he reached, without
difficulty, the presence of the chief administrator of justice, who,
having read the memorial and the note I had affixed to it, said, "That
is sufficient, sir; have the goodness to assure madame la comtesse du
Barry, my cousin, that the reprieve she desires is already granted; and
as my fair relation appears to fear trusting implicitly to my personal
friendship and humanity, I will set her mind at rest by putting you in
possession of the legal forms requisite for the prisoner."

He immediately issued the necessary orders for suspending the execution
of the sentence, which M. de Mandeville lost no time in communicating to
the poor girl, who, a very few days afterwards, received a full pardon,
and was thus, in a manner, snatched from an unmerited and ignominious
death. The musketeer requested permission to present my _protegee_ to my
notice. She really was a very pretty girl, her feelings overpowered
her, and she fainted in her attempt to throw herself at my feet; I soon
revived her by the aid of those restoratives which my staring people
stupidly did not try to offer, and then to send her away perfectly happy
and cheerful, I slipped into the pocket of her apron a _rouleau_ of
fifty louis which the king had given me for her use. And here I must
remark, that this prince, avaricious as he naturally was, was yet
always ready to perform a good action, and, indeed, in this respect,
he possessed many excellent qualities to which no one has ever yet done
justice. When I next saw the chancellor--"Do you know, my fair cousin,"
said he, "that if I wished to set you and the parliament quarreling
together I need only just whisper in what manner you treat our laws?"

"Your laws," exclaimed I, "are barbarous edicts, made rather for
tigers than for men. Your punishments are atrocious, nor do I see their
application to correct a single malefactor; particularly in the case
of this young girl it is abominable, and if the king would listen to me
such savage edicts should not long remain unrepealed."

"That may do very well," replied M. de Maupeou, "some time hence, but
not just now; ere our penal code can be revised we must have magistrates
more supple than those who now dispute our slightest innovation; and if,
by the grace of God, we can manage to make a clear house of them, why we
may confidently anticipate the noblest results."

By these and similar insinuations the chancellor bespoke that aid and
assistance which I afterwards so largely rendered him when he commenced
the ruin of parliaments.

Upon another occasion my credit and influence were employed with equal
success. The objects of my present exertions were the comte and comtesse
de Louerne. Both husband and wife were deeply loaded with debts, a thing
common enough with the nobility of the time; these debts they never
paid, another thing by no means unusual; their creditors, whose flinty
hearts were but little moved by the considerations of their rank and
high blood, sent officers to enforce payment, when the Louernes opposed
them with positive force and violence, and the laws, thus outraged,
condemned them to suffer death. In vain did persons of the highest rank
in the kingdom intercede in their behalf, imploring of the chancellor
to interpose with the king; altho' deaf to every other entreaty he
instantly granted a reprieve at my solicitation, declaring I was the
only person who could have effected so much in behalf of the distressed
culprits, as well as being the only source thro' which the king's mercy
could be obtained.

Immediately upon this notification, I was waited upon by the comtesse de
Moyau, their daughter, and the baronne d'Heldorf, their daughter-in-law;
both these ladies came to me in the deepest sorrow, and I mingled
my sighs and tears with those they so plentifully shed; but this was
rendering poor service, and if I desired to aid their cause it was
requisite I should speak to the king, who was little disposed to show
any indulgence in such cases, and was never known to pass over any
attempts on the part of the nobility to resist the laws; he looked with
horror on every prospect of the return of those times which he hoped
and believed were passed and gone never to return. I well knew his
sentiments on the subject, and yet, trusting to my great influence over
his mind, I did not despair of success; besides Chon, my sister-in-law,
was constantly reminding me that people of a certain rank should support
one another, and that now was the time or never. I therefore resolved
upon befriending the daughters of comte de Louerne to the utmost of
my power, and for that purpose I placed them both in a corner of the
drawing-room so as to catch the king's eye as he entered; he observed
them, and inquired who those two ladies were. "Sire," replied I, "they
are the heart-broken daughters of the comte and comtesse de Louerne,
who implore clemency of your majesty to save the lives of the authors of
their being."

"Ah!" returned he, "madame, you know I can do nothing against the law
which they have offended."

At these cruel words the two young ladies threw themselves at his
feet, exclaiming, "Pardon, pardon, sire; in the name of heaven and your
illustrious ancestors."

"Rise, ladies," said the king; "I would willingly serve you, but I have
not the power."

"No, sire," cried I, "you must not, you cannot refuse our united
prayers; and I here vow to remain kneeling at your feet till your lips
shall pronounce the word which shall restore life and happiness to so
many afflicted hearts."

"Madame," said the king, altho' in a tone less firm, "you force me to do
what my principles condemn; but since it must be so, I yield; and only
rejoice that the first personal favor you request of me is to perform an
act of beneficence. Ladies," added he, turning towards the comtesse de
Moyau and her sister-in-law, "you owe the lives of your parents to the
generous mediation of the comtesse du Barry."

The joy of the Louernes was only equalled by the base calumny of my
enemies, who accused me of having prepared this scene, which was got up
by the king and myself to produce effect and excite popularity. Could
such disgusting falsehoods have entered the minds of any but the most
depraved? Yet those who continually watched and misrepresented my least
action appeared anxious to deprive me of even the taste for, as well
as the power of, doing good. This took place at Choisy, which we
very shortly after quitted for Compiegne, where I passed my time very
agreeably. The king would not suffer either the duchesse de Grammont
or the comtesses d'Egmont and de Brienne to accompany us upon this
excursion. It has likewise been asserted, that neither the duchesse
de Grammont nor the princesse de Beauvau was present during the king's
first visit to Chantilly: that is not correct; it was at the second that
they were forbidden by Louis to join the party. Those who fabricated
such accounts, in all probability derived their information from either
the stable or the kitchen, which was all they knew of the court of Louis
XV.

During my abode at Compiegne I dined several times at the house of
my brother-in-law, Cleon du Barry, then a captain in the regiment de
Beauce, who was, with a detachment, quartered in the neighborhood of the
castle; and he, with the rest of his brother officers, vied in endeavors
to please and amuse me. They gave fetes in my honor, were perpetually
devising fresh schemes to render the place agreeable to me; and in that
they perfectly succeeded, for I quitted Compiegne with no other regret than
that my stay there was at an end.

The king appeared each day more and more solicitous to render me happy,
and even anticipated any wishes I might form. Amongst other marks of his
favor, he bestowed upon me the splendid pavilion de Lucienne, sold
by the duc de Penthievre after the death of his son, the prince de
Lamballe. You know this charming spot, which both nature and art have
so liberally contributed to adorn: I have converted it into the most
perfect and delightful habitation in which a mortal could desire to
end her days. Nevertheless, this hope of passing my life tranquilly and
happily within its sheltering bosom will prove but fallacious, if I
may credit a prediction which has been verified already in part. You
doubtlessly remember the young man who so obstinately pursued me to
announce the high destiny to which I should attain, ere I had for one
moment contemplated such an elevation. Well! You will scarcely credit
me when I declare, that all recollection of him had entirely escaped me;
but, in truth, the constant vortex of a court life leaves no time for
the recollection of the past, and fills our minds with no other ideas
but to provide for the present, and occasionally to glance at the
future.

However, I thought no more of my young prophet, when one Sunday, after
my return to Versailles from Compiegne, I attended mass at the castle;
all at once I caught a glimpse of my mysterious acquaintance, leaning
his back against the wall behind the altar. He was examining my
countenance with a deep and fixed attention. You may picture to yourself
my astonishment and surprise at recognising in this place the person who
had so long ago foretold my brilliant destiny. The color rushed to my
cheeks, and he could distinctly observe how much I was agitated by
his presence, and his beautiful countenance was lit up with a pleasant
smile; after which he gracefully waved his hand round his head as tho'
he would say, "Are you not queen of France?" This gesture excited my
astonishment still further; however, I returned his mute inquiry by a
slight inclination of the head, intended to say, "You are right." In
a moment a sort of cloud seemed to cover my eyes. So soon as I could
recover from the sudden dimness which obscured my vision, I endeavored
to bend my looks in an opposite direction; for so greatly was I the
point of general observation, that I feared to awaken suspicion by an
indiscreet attention to one particular person or place: and when after
some little time had elapsed, and I ventured to turn my eyes again to
the spot where the young man had been standing, he had disappeared.

I was unable to recover my astonishment at the whole affair, and the
suddenness of his departure inspired me with a lively desire to know
more of him, whether he were man or demon. I mentioned it to Chon the
same day, who, having listened to me with extreme attention, "Upon my
word," said she, "this is a most marvellous event in your history. Why
do you not mention the fact to M. de Sartines?"

"Because it appears to me folly to disturb or annoy a person who has
given me no offence; and were I to put him into the hands of the police,
I might possibly find reason to repent having acted so. On the other
hand, I would give any sum of money for one more interview with this
wonderful person."

There the conversation ended; but my sister-in-law, by an unpardonable
curiosity she ought not to have indulged in, wrote, unknown to me, to
the lieutenant of the police, entreating of him to use the most active
measures to trace out the object of my curiosity. M. de Sartines
delighted at having an opportunity of proving to me and mine his skill
and zeal, turned all his bloodhounds loose upon the track of this
unfortunate being. During these proceedings I received a letter, sealed
with five black seals, bearing the impress of a death's head. I thought
at first that it was to notify the decease of some friend, and I looked
upon the style as gloomy as it was strange; but, upon opening it, I
found it to contain the following words:--

"MADAME LA COMTESSE,--I am perfectly aware that the strict pursuit made
after me in your name is without your knowledge or sanction: those sent
in search of me have spared no pains nor trouble to ascertain my name
and abode.  My abode! Let all as they value themselves avoid meeting me
there; for, when they enter it, it will be never to quit it more. Who am
I? That can only be known when this life has been exchanged for another.
I charge you, madame, to command the lieutenant, M. de Sartines., to
cease his researches after me; they would be fruitless, and might only
compromise your safety. Remember, I predicted your good fortune; was I
not correct in it? I have also foretold reverses: I am equally correct
in them also. You will see me twice more; and should I unfortunately
cross your path a third time, prepare to bid adieu to the light of
heaven and the pleasures of this world."

It is impossible to convey an idea of the excessive terror with which I
was filled upon the perusal of this billet. I summoned my sister-in-law,
and complained of the harshness of conduct thus adopted against my
pleasure. Chon was equally alarmed, and confessed to me what she had
done in asking the aid of M. de Sartines; at the same time that she was
the first to declare that it was requisite to put an end to all further
search, which, in one shape or other, might bring on the most fatal
consequences. I therefore wrote myself to M. de Sartines, thanking him
for his exertions; but saying, that my sister-in-law and myself had
learned from the lips of the mysterious stranger all we were desirous of
knowing, and that any future researches being unpleasant to him would be
equally disagreeable to me. M. de Sartines obeyed my request; and from
that period till the death of the king I heard no more of this singular
personage.



CHAPTER XXI


     Extraordinary anecdote of Louis XIV and madame de Maintenon--
     The comtesse du Barry at Chantilly--Opinion of king and
     comte de la Marche respecting the "Iron Mask"--Madame du
     Barry visits madame de Lagarde

My acquaintance with the singular being I was speaking of in the last
chapter did not end here, as you will find in the sequel. I will now
give you an account of an equally strange affair, in nearly the same
words as Louis XV himself related it to me. Altho' strongly recommended
by my sister-in-law and M. de Sartines to conceal the whole story of
my mysterious friend from the king, yet, unaccustomed to the prudential
observation of court reserve, I, one fine evening, in order to fill up a
long blank in the conversation, related the story from beginning to end.
His majesty listened with attention until I had concluded.

"This is indeed," said he, "a most singular history; and I think you
have acted very wisely in putting an end to all such interference on the
part of the police; for in such cases you frequently run great risks
to procure a trifling gratification. We have seen something of the same
sort in our family."

This discourse excited my curiosity; and I entreated of him to
explain himself more fully. "I ought not to do so," replied he; "such
transactions should be kept for ever concealed; but as more than half
a century has elapsed since the event I allude to took place, I think I
may venture to break the silence I have religiously observed until now.
You are the only person I have ever mentioned it to, and I must bind you
to the strictest secrecy."

This I faithfully promised; and so long as Louis XV lived I kept my
word.

"At the conclusion of the last century, during the month of September,"
resumed the king, "it happened that Louis XIV, and madame de Maintenon
formed the wish of consulting together some learned astrologer, in order
to ascertain whether the coming age would be productive of good or ill
to them. As neither of them knew to whom to apply, in order to attain
their object, madame de Maintenon was compelled to confide her wishes to
her friend, madame de Montchevreuil, who readily engaged to find for her
the person she required; for, spite of the severity with which the law
visited such practices, there was no scarcity of dealers in augury, who
promised good or bad fortune accordingly as they were paid for it.

"Whilst this lady was making diligent search after one perfectly
competent to satisfy madame de Maintenon, this latter, in conjunction
with the king, despite the superiority of their minds, was greatly
disturbed at the probable consequences of the step they meditated. Their
desire to penetrate into futurity appeared to them as ridiculous as it
was criminal, but their weaker feelings triumphed; and the result of
their deliberations was that far from relinquishing their intention of
searching the book of fate, they should lose neither pains nor trouble
to attain their object; and to encourage each other, they reckoned upon
their fingers the names of every person of their acquaintance, or even
belonging to the court, who had derived profit and advantage from the
predictions of fortune-tellers.

"The minds of all at this period were still imbued with those
superstitious feelings, of which many of the most illustrious persons
had given ample proof even in the preceding reign. We have become either
more wicked or more sceptical, whichever you please to term it; but this
is certain, that many of the things predicted were accomplished with an
exact punctuality, which might serve to overthrow the finest arguments
of the greatest philosophers, and which has indeed destroyed many
ingenious theories. Doubtless the hidden laws of nature have reference
to other beings than ourselves; and, beyond dispute, may be said to
govern the creatures of an unknown world as well as exercising control
over poor mortals like us." After this short digression, of which I give
you the precise wording, the king continued as follows:

"On the following day madame de Montchevreuil paid a visit to madame de
Maintenon, in which she declared, that upon mature reflection, she could
not proceed with the commission she had undertaken: that it was tempting
Providence, and had better be abandoned. This remonstrance had no effect
upon madame de Maintenon, who shielded herself from any necessity of
retracting, by repeating to herself, that she had pledged herself to
join Louis XIV in the undertaking, and it would never do for her to
forfeit her character for firmness and good sense by now appearing
trifling and capricious. However, she feigned a seeming compliance with
the advice of madame de Montchevreuil, whilst, in reality, her mind was
resolved upon executing her project.

"There was in her household a female who was not immediately one of her
establishment, altho' generally ranking as such; one of those active,
stirring persons, who thrust themselves into a noble family under the
equivocal title of half servant, half lady. This one had charge of all
the necessary purchases of linen, Engaged the servants, kept watch over
their conduct, procured for the marchioness whatever particulars she
might require upon any subject; and took upon herself, in a word, any
piece of service by which she could more firmly plant herself in the
family of her employers. She received no fixed wages, but their absence
was abundantly compensated in the numerous rich presents that were
continually made her. Her sleeping apartment was always immediately
adjoining that of madame de Maintenon in the castle. A person of this
description (as may be readily supposed) knew the world too well to find
any difficulty in procuring a mere fortune-teller; and as her discretion
might be confidently relied on, it was resolved by her mistress to
intrust her with the design.

"Two days after, she had removed all difficulties by discovering an
Italian priest, famed as the most skilful necromancer of his day, one
who undertook to reveal the decrees of fate to all those who should
consult him, as clearly and readily as tho' its leaves lay open, as a
book before his eyes. But this gifted person lived in the utmost dread
of attracting the notice of parliament, and exercised his art only under
the strictest assurances of secrecy, in the most retired and secluded
manner, with every precaution to prevent the possibility of a surprise.

"These conditions were too gratifying to madame de Maintenon to cause
much delay in subscribing to them; and it was finally arranged, that
the prophet and his new applicants should meet at a house in Sevres
belonging to the royal family, then in the occupation of madame Cerfol
(the lady of whom mention has been already made). The marchioness was
to repair thither at one o'clock in the morning with a single friend. To
have taken such a measure in open daylight would have been to proclaim
their secret to all Paris. One person besides madame de Cerfol was
necessarily admitted into their confidence, and that was the duc de
Noailles, who was charged, by the king's express orders, to take every
possible precaution to ensure their safety, as far as it could be done
without attracting public attention to so extraordinary an affair.

"At the hour appointed madame de Maintenon and the duc de Noailles
ascended a carriage which awaited them at one of the park gates, and
soon conveyed them to Sevres, whither the Italian priest had gone the
preceding night. This wretched man had celebrated alone the sacrifice of
the mass, and had consecrated several wafers.

"Everything confirmed the opinion, that the conjuror, up to the present
moment, merely supposed himself sent for to satisfy the curiosity of
some country nobleman and his lady, who were both anxious and eager to
read their future fortune thro' his assistance. I can only suppose, if
he had been in ignorance of the real rank of those who addressed
him, the sight of the king must have quickly undeceived him, as the
conclusion of the story proves he well knew to whom he spoke when he
delivered his prediction. However this may have been, he was no sooner
alone with the marchioness, than he commenced the necessary preparations
for the performance of his sorceries and enchantments; he burned
perfumes, offered prayers, and with loud invocations adjured the powers
of hell to answer him; and in the midst of a wild and agitating sound
which pervaded the whole building, during the heavy swell of noises
too dreadful to have arisen from mortal sources, and whilst a thousand
visions were flitting to and fro, he drew the horoscope of the king and
madame de Maintenon. He promised Louis XIV that he should succeed in all
his undertakings; and that, on the very day on which he spoke the
words (the 2nd of October) one of his children had been called to the
inheritance of an immense fortune. Then giving him a small packet,
wrapped in new parchment, 'The day in which you form the fatal
resolution of acquainting yourself with the contents of this packet,'
said he, 'will be the last of your prosperity; but if you desire to
carry your good fortune to the highest pitch, be careful upon every
great festival, that is to say, Easter, Whit-Sunday, the Assumption,
and Christmas, to plunge a pin in this talisman, so that the point shall
pass directly thro' it; observe to do this, and you will live perfectly
happy.'

"The king accepted this fatal present, and swore upon the Gospel never
to open the packet; he richly rewarded the priest, who from that period
lived in a retreat so well concealed as to evade the most diligent
researches of those who sought to discover it.

"Some time after news was received, that on the very 2nd of October,
1700, named by the priest, Charles II, king of Spain, had appointed in
his will Philip of France, son of the dauphin, his successor and heir,
an inheritance truly immense, as the astrologer had foretold. You may
well think how highly this realization of the prediction inspired the
king with confidence as to the fulfilment of the remainder: and, on his
part, he never failed upon any saint's day or other solemn festival to
stick the mysterious pin in the talisman upon which so much depended.

"Nevertheless, spite of all these observances, his undertakings d id not
invariably succeed, which astonished him greatly; when one day the great
Bossuet, happening to be at madame de Maintenon's, the conversation
turned upon magic and sorcery, necromancy and their horrible
profanations; and he expressed himself with so much force and energy,
that the king and madame de Maintenon looked at each other without
knowing what to say, and began, for the first time, to feel compunction
for what they had done, and to regret their imprudence. They talked of
it much together, and at length resolved to reveal their crime to their
confessors. The punishment imposed on the king by his spiritual adviser
was, that he should evince his contempt for the talismanic properties of
the parchment packet, by immediately opening it.

"Louis XIV did not by any means admire this method of expiating his
fault; and a sort of involuntary dread took possession of him, as, in
obedience to the command of his confessor, he went to procure the magic
parcel, which he tore open in the presence of madame de Maintenon and
father la Chaise. The packet contained nothing but a consecrated wafer,
pierced thro' with as many pins as there had been saints' days since
the king had received it. At the sight of this horrible sacrilege my
grandfather was filled with deep remorse and consternation, from
which it was a long time ere he recovered; and it was not until he had
undergone many severe penances, fastings, and caused numberless masses
to be said, that he felt himself at all relieved from the weight of his
crime.

"But all this was only the commencement of the divine vengeance: and
those in the secret of this unfortunate affair remarked, that this great
monarch lost from that time as many male descendants in a direct line as
he had stuck pins into the holy wafer."

Louis XV here terminated his singular history, which struck my mind
with a sort of religious terror. I strove by every possible effort
to dissimulate, concealing from the king the emotions to which his
narration had given rise. I contented myself with observing, "that after
hearing his marvelous recital, I should only be more confirmed in my
determination to leave my young prophet to the tranquillity he desired."

"It will be far best so," added Louis; "I know so many fatal results
which have followed any indiscreet curiosity, that I am persuaded
you had much better leave such mysterious affairs to work their own
solution."

I promised to follow his advice, and we then conversed upon other
subjects. Since then this anecdote has recurred to my memory; and
without wishing to impeach the sincerity of Louis XV, I have asked
myself, whether, by the opportune relation of this adventure, probably
invented by himself, he did not seek to destroy the confidence I
appeared to entertain in the predictions of my prophet. I say invented,
because the king had a peculiar readiness and facility in composing
these sort of wonderful tales, carefully noting down every circumstance
which fell under his knowledge deviating from the ordinary course of
things. He had a large collection of these legends, which he delighted
in narrating; and this he did with an ease and grace of manner I have
never seen equalled.

About this period the prince de Conde, whose gallantry never failed,
entreated the king to pay a second visit to Chantilly: and it was upon
this occasion that Louis erased from the list of court ladies all those
whose presence would be disagreeable to me during our stay at Chantilly.
One scene of pleasure followed another, and one fete succeeded another.
I accompanied his majesty without ever quitting him; and if hitherto
there had existed any doubts as to the sincerity of the king's
attachment, the most sceptical person would now have been convinced of
the fact. Louis XV was never from my side, and appeared solely occupied
in gratifying my slightest wish; the princes of the court carefully
followed his example; and such a life as I then led was abundant
compensation for all the pains and anxieties I had endured from the
malice and jealousy of certain females, as well as the sarcastic
bitterness of men, who feared lest my influence should destroy theirs.

I may, with truth, affirm that I received the honors and attention of a
queen; verses, plays, all written to convey some praise or compliment to
me; and the king testified the lively gratification it afforded him
to see me thus an object of general solicitude, as well as of the most
flattering distinction. His conduct towards the prince de Conde became
more gracious than it had ever been observed to be to the princes of the
blood; for there existed a singular coolness in the royal family towards
all the princes of this branch. The king looked upon it as vastly
inferior to his own, because it had been separated from the throne
before the accession of Henry IV to the crown; he even asserted, that
there was much to be said upon this subject, and prudence compels me to
pass over the many histories and circumstances related by him to me of
this brilliant portion of his noble race.

Neither the prince de Conde, whom I knew well, nor the prince de la
Marche, entertained much regard for their relations; and they had always
some spiteful story in store respecting the posterity of Louis XIII.
There is one historical fact which has never been cleared up.

One day I was conversing with the comte de la Marche upon the disputes
concerning the parliaments, and expressing my fear, that, if driven to
desperate measures, the people would rise in open rebellion in favor of
the magistracy. "They would be still more clamourous," replied he, "if
they knew all I could tell them."

"And what do you know more than myself?'" asked I; "your highness alarms
me by speaking thus."

"Amongst events now passed and gone is one that would materially affect
the public peace, if known."

"You must explain yourself, my lord," said I. He refused; but I
persisted in pressing the matter with so much earnestness, that at last
he said, in a low voice,

"Did you ever hear of the man who wore the iron mask?"

"Yes, certainly," replied I, "who was he?"

"A great prince, and a most unfortunate man."

"But who was he really?"

"In the eyes of the law the crown of France should have been his; but in
the conscientious view of things he certainly had no claim."

The comte de la Marche stopped here; and, as I was not very deeply read
in history, I did not exactly comprehend the distinction he had just
made. I had frequently heard talk of the "Iron Mask," whom people
reported to be either allied to, or sprung from, the royal family; but
all these particulars were confused in my memory. However, I was much
struck with the conversation I had had with the comte de la Marche; and
when next the conversation fell on this mysterious personage, I asked
the duc de Richelieu what he thought of him.

"Upon my honor," replied he, "I never could find out who he really was;
not that I did not try," added he, assuming an air of modest vanity,
which well became his green old age. "I had a mistress of tolerably high
birth, mademoiselle d'Orleans, as indeed I had the honor of having the
princesses, her august sisters. However, the former, known under the
name of mademoiselle de Charollais, was dying to do some act of kindness
that should be agreeable to me. Well, I requested she would obtain from
the regent, her father, the solution of the secret relative to the 'Iron
Mask.' She used every possible device, but nothing could she obtain from
her father, who protested that the mystery should never escape his lips;
and he kept his word, he never did divulge it. I even imagine that the
king himself is ignorant of it, unless indeed the cardinal de Fleury
informed him of it." The marechal told me afterwards that he thought the
opinion adopted by Voltaire the most probable, viz: that this unknown
person was the son of the queen Anne of Austria, mother of Louis XIV.
These last words helped, in a measure, to resolve the enigma which comte
de la Marche had left me to unravel; and, with a view to satisfy myself
more positively on the subject, I availed myself of the first time I was
alone with the king, to lead the conversation to this story.

At the mention of the "Iron Mask," Louis XV started. "And do you really
credit such a fable?" asked he.

"Is it then entirely untrue?" inquired I.

"Certainly not," he replied; "all that has been said on the matter is
destitute of even common sense."

"Well," cried I, "what your majesty says only confirms what I heard from
the marechal de Richelieu."

"And what has he been telling you?"

"Very little, sire; he told me only, that the secret of who the 'Iron
Mask' really was had not been communicated to you."

"The marechal is a simpleton if he tells you so. I know the whole
affair, and was well acquainted with the unhappy business."

"Ah!" exclaimed I, clapping my hands in triumph, "just now you affected
perfect ignorance; you knew nothing at all about it, and now--"

"You are a very dangerous woman," cried the king, interrupting me by
loud fits of laughter, "and you are cunning enough even to surprise the
secrets of the state."

"'Tis you, rather, who could not resist the inclination to let me see
that you knew what the marechal had declared you ignorant of. Which of
us two is the more to blame, I wonder?"

"Myself, I think," answered the king; "for after all, you did but
act with the candor and curiosity of your sex: it was for me to
have employed more of the prudence of a king in my replies to your
interrogatories."

"Well, but," said I, "since you really do know all about this man with
the iron mask, you will tell it to me, will you not?"

"I should be very careful how I gratified your curiosity," said he;
"this is a point of history which must never be cleared up; state
reasons require that it should for ever remain a matter of doubt."

"And _I_ must have you tell me," returned I; "do pray tell, and I will
love you with all my heart."

"It cannot be."

"And why not? This unfortunate person has been long dead without leaving
any posterity."

"Are you quite sure of that?" inquired the king, in a serious tone.

"But what signifies," said I, "whether he be dead or alive? I entreat
of you to bestow upon me this proof of your confidence. Who of all those
who have spoken of him have told the truth?"

"Nobody; but Voltaire has approached it more nearly than any one else."

After this partial confession the king implored of me to change the
conversation, which I could easily perceive was extremely disagreeable
to him. Nevertheless, it seemed to me quite clear, that this celebrated
person belonged to the royal family, but by what title I could not
devise. It was in vain that I afterwards revived the subject; not even
during the most tender confidences could I obtain the information I
desired. Possibly had I lived with him some years more I might have
succeeded in drawing from him all he knew respecting the object of my
curiosity. Old men, like children, can conceal nothing from those they
love, and who have obtained over them an influence they willingly submit
to.

Before I proceed to more important events, I would fain speak of persons
with whom I lived before my elevation. My godfather, M. Billard du
Monceau, was still living, as well as madame Lagarde, with whom I had
resided as companion. My interview with the former is well known; and
the authors of "Anecdotes of My Life," published thirteen years
since, have strictly adhered to the truth, with the exception of some
vulgarisms they have put into the mouth of that excellent man which he
never uttered.

As to madame Lagarde, she was strangely surprised to see me arrive at
her house; and the evident embarrassment my presence occasioned her was
a sufficient revenge on my part for the many unkind things she had said
and done respecting me. I would not prolong her uncomfortable situation,
but studied to conduct myself with the same unaffected simplicity of
former days. I talked over the past, inquired after her family, and
offered my best services and protection without malice for what was
gone by, and with perfect sincerity for the future. But spite of all
my endeavors to spare her feelings, it was evident that rage and
humiliation at the advantage my altered fortunes gave me over her,
struggled within her, and the conflict of her mind was but too plainly
depicted in her countenance. However, that was the least of my troubles;
I soon restored her to comparative calmness; and before I quitted her,
made her promise she would come and see me.

She would gladly have evaded this request; but her son, the master of
requests, who sufficiently misjudged me to fear my resentment, and who
possessed great influence over her, induced her to present herself at my
house. She accordingly came to call upon me, with a mind bursting with
spite and jealousy; yet she choked down her angry passions, and so far
humbled herself, as to entreat my pardon for her own sake and that of
her family, for all her unkindness towards me. I would not allow her to
finish; "Madame," said I, "I only allow agreeable recollections to find
a place in my memory; had I entertained the slightest resentment against
either you or yours, you may be quite certain I should not have again
entered your dwelling; and I again repeat the offer I made the other
day, of gladly seizing the first opportunity of being useful to you."

Each of these words expressive of the kindest feelings towards her was
like the stab of a poniard. She, however, extolled them with the most
exaggerated praise, imploring me to believe how deeply she regretted her
behavior, and talked so long and so much about it, that when she quitted
me, it was with the most certain impression on my mind, that in her I
possessed a most violent and implacable enemy, and in this conclusion I
was quite correct. M. Dudelay, her son, had the effrontery to request
to be presented to me, and charged the excellent M. de Laborde to make
known his wishes to me. I begged he would inform M. Dudelay, that I
admitted into the circle of my acquaintance only such as were known
to the king; and that if he thought proper to apply to his majesty,
I should obey his royal will on the subject, whatever it might be. He
justly considered this repulse as a biting raillery, for which he never
forgave me. I entertained no ill will against him for his past perfidy,
but I considered it strange that he should presume to approach me with
familiarity. I should not have adopted the same line of conduct towards
the farmer-general, his brother, who, less assuming, contented himself
with assuring me of his devotion, and the sincere regret with which he
contemplated the past, without ever seeking to introduce himself into my
presence.



CHAPTER XXII


     The chevalier de la Morliere--Portrait of the duc de
     Choiseul--The duc de Choiseul and the comtesse du Barry--
     No reconciliation effected--Madame du Barry and the duc
     d'Aiguillon--Madame du Barry and Louis XV

About this period I received a piece of attention, any thing
but gratifying if considered in a strictly honourable sense. The
contemptible chevalier de la Morliere, who detested me, and subsequently
pursued me with rage, presumed to dedicate to me some wretched
collection of his compositions, and I had the weakness to accept the
dedication; I had even the still greater folly to receive its author
at my house; this piece of condescension injured me greatly. Until that
period I had not, like madame de Pompadour, shown myself the protectress
and patroness of men of letters; and even my warmest friends could not
deny, that in stepping forwards as the encourager of literature, I had
made a very unfortunate choice in selecting the chevalier de la
Morliere as the first object of my patronage. But how could I have done
otherwise? The prince de Soubise, who found this man serviceable
upon many occasions, would have sacrificed any thing to promote his
advancement; and I have been assured, that had the marechal taken half
the pains on the day previous to the battle of Rasbach, we should not
have left it so disgracefully.

The king well knew the unfortunate chevalier for a man as destitute of
modesty as merit; when therefore he saw his book upon the mantel-piece
of my drawing-room, he said,

"So! you are the inspiring muse of the chevalier de la Morliere; I only
warn you, when the day comes for him to be hanged, not to ask me to
pardon him."

"Be assured," replied I, "that I will never deprive the Place de Greve
of one so formed to do honour to it."

In fact, the chevalier was within an ace of reaching it before his
friends anticipated; for, very shortly after this conversation, he
was guilty of the most detestable piece of knavery I ever heard of.
He learned that an unfortunate young man from the country, into whose
confidence he had wormed himself, was to receive 15,000 livres on his
father's account; he invited him to supper, and, by the aid of two
villains like himself, stripped him of his last sous. Not satisfied with
this, he wrote the father such an exaggerated account of his son's loss
and general bad habits, that the enraged and irritated parent procured
an order to confine his son at Saint Lazare! Did you ever hear of a more
infamous and accomplished rogue than my honourable _protege_? However,
I shall give him up to his fate, be it good or bad, and proceed with the
relation of my affair with duc de Choiseul.

I had named to madame de l'Hopital the hour at which I could receive the
duke. She had requested, in pursuance of her directions, no doubt, that
the conversation between us should take place either amidst the groves
of Versailles or in the labyrinth of Marly;--the self-love of M.
de Choiseul inducing him to desire that this interview should be so
contrived, as to wear the air of a mere chance rencontre. To this I
would not consent; saying, that it did not suit my pleasure to quit the
house; and that when a gentleman solicited the favour of speaking to
a lady, it became his business to wait upon her, without expecting she
should come in search of him; and, spite of all the arguments of madame
de l'Hopital, I persisted in my determination: she had no alternative
but to submit, and I awaited the coming of M. de Choiseul on the
following day.

The duc de Choiseul possessed a greater reputation than his talents were
entitled to; and his advancement was more attributable to his good fort
 powerful assistants in both philosophers and women; he was a confirmed
egotist, yet passed for a man who cared little for self. He was quick
at matters of business, and he obtained the character of a deep and
profound politician. It must, however, be admitted, that he was witty,
gallant, and gifted with manners so elegant and fascinating, that they
never failed to remove the first unfavourable impression caused by his
excessive plainness. The tide of public favour was with him; and, in
order to contest it, it required all the influence of a woman, and that
woman to be no less than the beloved mistress of the king of France.

He presented himself before me tastefully and magnificently dressed,
both look and voice wearing the stamp of high-born pride and
haughtiness. Nevertheless, amidst all this pomp, it was evident that he
did not entirely feel the ease he assumed, and that a species of remorse
rankled at his heart, spite of the courtier-like gallantry with which he
had invested himself.

"Madam," said he, bowing twice most profoundly, "the moment has arrived
which I have long most ardently desired."

"The fault has not been mine, my lord," said I, "that it has been
delayed until now. My door has never been shut against any visit you
might have honoured me with."

"Ah, madam! why have I not known this sooner? Some evil planet ruled my
thoughts when it occurred to me that I might not be so happy as to meet
with a favourable reception."

"There, my lord, you were indeed in error; for though I might not feel
a very tender friendship towards you whilst supposing I had many causes
for complaint, I could not refuse you those marks of respect your rank
and station entitle you to receive."

"Then, madam, I may flatter myself that I should have been kindly
received?"

"Yes, sir, you would ever have been welcome, but not those belonging to
you, for I will be perfectly candid; always excepting the duchesse de
Choiseul, for whom I entertain the greatest veneration and respect."

"She is indeed well worthy the exalted opinion you express of her; and
had I followed her advice, I should not have been found amongst the
ranks of your enemies."

"You confess the fact then, monsieur le duc?" said I.

"I trust, madam, you will not take advantage of an inadvertent
expression to turn it against myself. What I fear is, that without ever
having been your enemy, I may have passed for such in your estimation;
and such indeed is the cruel position in which I am placed."

"Stay, my lord duke," cried I; "be candid, and acknowledge that you are
my enemy as you have ever been; and that it is only because there
has been war between us that you are now come to conclude a treaty of
peace--"

"Peace or war, madam," replied he, "as you please to will it; all I will
admit is, that things have turned out most unfavourably for my wishes.
Your arrival at Versailles, your grace, beauty, and wit, excited
universal jealousy; and, amidst the general panic caused by your
all-excelling merit, was it not necessary I too should keep myself on my
guard? For the first time in my life a beautiful woman became an object
of alarm to me; you may further believe me, when I protest that, at
the outset, I warmly defended you; but how could I wage war against so
many--how oppose the general torrent? It bore me down."

"And you fear lest it should carry you beyond your depth, and would fain
return to _terra firma_; is it not so, my lord duke?"

At this ironical speech an expression of heavy displeasure rose to the
countenance of M. de Choiseul, and he remained for several minutes like
a man who fears to trust himself to reply. Then he added,

"Madam, when I solicited the favour of this conversation, it was with
the sincerest desire of adjusting all differences between us, and it
would but ill advance that purpose were I now to reply to you with
warmth and petulance; condescend, on your part, to lay aside sarcasm and
raillery. You have already too many advantages over me, and it would ill
accord with your wonted generosity to insult a half-conquered foe."

"You are right, my lord," answered I; "jests and recrimination will
effect nothing; let us rather proceed at once to consider what is best
for the interest of both."

"Willingly," replied he. "Now you speak to the purpose; and as I was
prepared to hear you--are you inclined for a serious discussion of our
business?"

"Pray begin, my lord, I am all attention."

"Well, madam, I deeply regret all that has passed, and deplore that my
friends and part of my family should be disagreeable to you; I take
upon myself to engage that their hostility shall end, and am willing to
afford you the most perfect satisfaction upon this point. Impressed with
highest respect for his majesty, and the most lively desire to serve
him, I ask for nothing more than to be on good terms with those he
loves; and as for the future, my unshrinking loyalty may be relied on."

"I am well assured of it, my lord duke; and likewise you have never
taken any part in the calumnies which have been aimed at me. Let us then
forgive the and since we are agreed as to the future, let us speak but
of the present. I have friends fitted to serve the king, whose ambition
leads them to aspire to that honour. What will you do to assist them?"

"Ere I promise that, madam, it is necessary I should be acquainted with
them."

"What would it avail to name them to you? You perfectly well comprehend
to whom I allude. I am resolutely decided to support them, and to employ
for this purpose the friendship with which his majesty deigns to honour
me."

The duke coloured deeply at these words.

"Then, madam," said he, "you would fain strip me to enrich others?"

"No, my lord, I ask but a division of your possessions. You cannot have
every thing; and it would not be fair that our reconciliation should be
profitable to you only." "I did not anticipate, madam, in coming hither,
that you would command me to offer up myself as a sacrifice upon an
altar raised by you to the interests of your friends."

"Meaning to say, my lord duke, that you will keep every thing to
yourself. I cannot compliment you upon your liberality, however I may
for your candour."

"Madam, I have never since my entry into the ministry sought to live at
the expense of my country, and let me resign office when I may, I shall
retire loaded only with debts, whilst you and your friends draw large
revenues from the nation."

The conversation became warm and angry, the duke and myself, with
crimson cheeks and inflamed countenances, surveyed each other with
haughty defiance. At length he added,

"I had hoped that I should have quitted you more kindly disposed towards
me."

"And I, my lord, fancied that you were coming with an ardent desire for
peace; but no, the spirit of your sister leads you astray, and you would
fain punish me for her absence from court."

"Madam, I beseech you to leave my sister in peace; she has gone, that
ought to satisfy you. We will not, if you please, speak of her."

"I only wish that she would likewise do me the honour to be silent
respecting me. I am not ignorant that she continues to aim her slanders
at me from afar as she did when near me. One might suppose that the sole
object of her journeyings was but to excite all France against me."

"Madam, you are mistaken. My sister--"

"Continues to play the same part in the country she did in Paris. She
detests me because I happen to have youth and beauty on my side. May her
hatred last forever."

"Ah, madam, say not so; for with your charms you are indeed too
formidable an antagonist; and the more so, as I clearly perceive you are
not inclined for peace."

"At least," said I, "the war on my side shall be fair and open, and
those belonging to you have not always waged it with me upon those
terms."

The duke merely warded off this last assertion by some unmeaning
compliment, and we separated greater enemies than ever.

The first person to whom I could communicate what had passed was the duc
d'Aiguillon. He listened to my recital without any decided expression of
his opinion; but no sooner had I concluded, than he took me by the hand,
and pressing it with a friendly grasp,

"How I congratulate you," said he, "upon the good fortune which has
extricated you from this affair. Do you know that a reconciliation with
the duc de Choiseul would have involved your inevitable disgrace? What
evil genius counselled you to act in such a manner?"

"I fancied I was doing right," said I, "in thus proving to the king that
I was not an unreasonable woman."

"The Choiseuls," replied he, "would have entangled you in their nets,
and, separated from your real friends, would have made you the innocent
author of your own destruction. Tell the king just so much, that the duc
de Choiseul has been to see you, that you conversed together some time,
and that he has offended you more than ever."

"I promise you, my kind friend," said I, "to follow your advice."

When I next saw the king, I apprized him of the visit.

"That does not astonish me," said Louis XV, "the duke is anxious to be
on friendly terms with you."

"He has then taken a very contrary road to arrive at my friendship,"
said I; "if he really desires that we should be on good terms, he must
conduct himself very differently"; and there the conversation ended. But
several days afterwards, having sent away my _maitre d'hotel_, with whom
I had reason to be dissatisfied, and the king appearing surprised at
seeing a fresh countenance amongst my household, I said to him, "Sir,
I have got rid of _my_ Choiseul, when will it please you to get rid of
yours?" The king, without replying to me, began to laugh; in which, for
want of a better termination to my remark, I was constrained to join.



CHAPTER XXIII


     Dorine--Mademoiselle Choin and the marechal d'Uxelles--
     Zamor--M. de Maupeou's wig--Henriette--The duc de Villeroi
     and Sophie--Letter from the comtesse du Barry to the duc de
     Villeroi--His reply--The countess writes again--Madame du
     Barry and Sophie--Louis XV and the comtesse du Barry

Among the number which composed my household were three beings who
played conspicuous parts in my family, and who received the kindest
caresses in honour of their mistress. These three favoured objects were
Dorine, Zamor, and Henriette. Following the order or disorder in which
I have written thus far, I will first introduce my dear Dorine to your
notice.

Sweet, beautiful Dorine! how amiably affectionate and attached to thy
mistress wert thou! The poor animal still exists; for I would have you
know that I am speaking of a most faithful little dog; now indeed grown
old, asthmatic and snappish; but fifteen years since, distinguished for
her lightness, swiftness, and grace, for her pretty little countenance,
white teeth, large sparkling eyes, long tufted tail, and above all,
for her snow-white coat, spotted here and there with the most beautiful
brown.

Dorine was just three months old when madame de Montmorency brought
her to me in her muff; her throat was adorned with a rich gold collar,
bearing the arms of the du Barrys, and clasped with a large sapphire
surrounded with diamonds. The moment she saw me Dorine leaped upon my
lap with the most endearing familiarity, and from that period has never
quitted me. My train of courtiers hastened to become those of the new
favourite likewise; and pastrycooks and confectioners racked their
brains to procure tempting morsels for the gentle Dorine. She sipped her
coffee daily from a golden saucer, and Zamor (between whom and Dorine
a mutual dislike existed) was appointed her cupbearer. The wonderful
instinct of the highly gifted animal soon taught her, that although she
had free permission to bark at all the rest of the world, there was one
person in it to whom it behoved her to show herself in her most gracious
and smiling moods; who this person was I leave it to your sagacity to
divine. She, however, indemnified herself for this extra complaisance
by barking and biting at all who approached; and the handsomest,
best turned leg in the court was not secure from the sharp teeth of
mademoiselle Dorine. Nevertheless, all vied in praising and fondling
her, and I was enchanted with the general admiration she excited,
as well as the attention she received. One day that I was exultingly
relating to the duc d'Aguillon the cares and praises lavished on my dog,
he replied, "The grand dauphin, son of Louis XIV, after the death of his
wife, Marie Christine of Bavaria, secretly espoused mademoiselle Choin.
The marechal d'Uxelles, who was not ignorant of this marriage, professed
himself the most devoted friend of the lady; he visited her regularly
morning and evening, and even carried his desire to please her so far,
as to send a servant with a dish of grilled hare for the house dog, who
had a particular fancy for game dressed in that manner! These attentions
and assiduities were faithfully continued for several years, till the
grand dauphin died, and then no more morning and evening visits, no more
presents to either mistress or dog. Apply the story well," added the
duke, as he terminated his recital. Unfortunately the application of the
tale presented itself but too soon, and I have experienced the sad truth
of the history of mademoiselle Choin. At the death of the king so, did
my visitors disappear; and poor Dorine has partaken of the disgrace of
the comtesse du Barry.

The second object of my regard was Zamor, a young African boy, full of
intelligence and mischief; simple and independent in his nature, yet
wild as his country. Zamor fancied himself the equal of all he met,
scarcely deigning to acknowledge the king himself as his superior. This
son of Africa was presented to me by the duc de Richelieu, clad in
the picturesque costume of his native land; his head ornamented with
feathers of every colour, a short petticoat of plaited grass around his
waist, while the richest bracelets adorned his wrists, and chains of
gold, pearls, and rubies, glittered over his neck and hung from his
ears. Never would any one have suspected the old marechal, whose
parsimony was almost proverbial, of making such a magnificent present.

In honour of the tragedy of Alzire, I christened my little negro Zamor,
to whom by degrees I became attached with all the tenderness of a
mother. You ask me why? Indeed that is more than I can tell; perhaps
at first I looked upon him as a sort of puppet or plaything, but,
imperceptibly to myself, I became passionately fond of my little page,
nor was the young urchin slow in perceiving the ascendancy he had gained
over me, and, in the end, to abuse his influence, and attained, as
I have before said, an almost incredible degree of insolence and
effrontery. Still I pardoned all his folly, and amused myself from
morning to night with watching his nimble fingers perform a thousand
tricks of jugglery. Even now that I have lost the gaiety of my happy
days, when I recall his irresistibly comic ways, I catch myself
laughing, like an old simpleton, at the bare recollection of his monkey
feats. I could relate twenty of his mischievous pranks, each more
amusing than the other. I will, however, excuse you from hearing
nineteen of them, upon condition that you shall listen to the twentieth,
which I select as being the shortest.

One day, upon which I had invited some select friends to dinner, a
superb pie was brought to table as a present which the ungallant M. de
Maupeou had had the politeness to send me in the morning. One of the
company proceeded to cut it, when scarcely had he pierced the
crust, than its perfidious contents proved to be an immense swarm of
cockchafers, which spread humming and buzzing all over the chamber.
Zamor, who had never before seen these insects, began to pursue them
all over the room, buzzing and humming as loudly as they did. The chase
lasted a long time; but at last the poor cockchafers weary of carrying
on the war, and mistaking the peruke of M. de Maupeou for an impregnable
fortress, flew to take refuge there. What did Zamor do, but run to the
chancellor, snatch off his wig, and carry it in triumph to a corner of
the room with its colony of cockchafers, leaving us all to admire the
bald head of the chief magistrate. I could willingly have enjoyed a
hearty laugh at this scene, but, out of respect for M. de Maupeou, I
feigned to be much displeased with Zamor, whom I desired one of the
attendants to flog for his rudeness. However, the guests and the
chancellor uniting in entreaties that I would pardon him, I was obliged
to allow my assumed anger to give way to their request, and the culprit
received a pardon.

There was but one person in the world whom Zamor really feared; he
was however on good terms with all my friends, and did not disdain
the society of the king. You have heard that the latter, by way of
amusement, bestowed on my little negro the title of governor of the
Pavillon de Lucienne, with a revenue arising therefrom of a thousand
crowns, and that the chancellor caused the necessary papers to be
prepared and delivered to him sealed with the state seal.

But of all the persons who visited me, the one most beloved by Zamor was
madame de Mirepoix, who never came without bringing him amusing presents
or some sweetmeats. The sight of her threw him into ecstasies of
delight; and the moment he caught sight of her, he would clap his hands,
leap with joy, dance around her, and kiss her hand, exclaiming, "_Ah!
mame la chale!_" ("Ah! Madame la marechale "). The poor marechale
always dreaded meeting the king when she came to visit me and Zamor; for
the great delight of his majesty was to make my little negro repeat a
name of Israelitish origin, which he did in so ridiculous a manner, that
the modesty of my fair friend was most shockingly put to the blush.

One person alone never vouchsafed to bestow the slightest glance of
encouragement upon my little imp of Africa, and this was comte Jean,
who even went so far as to awe him into silence either by a frown or a
gesture of impatience; his most lively tricks could not win a smile from
the count, who was either thoughtful or preoccupied with some ambitious
scheme of fortune. Zamor soon felt a species of instinctive dread of
this overpowering and awe-inspiring genius, whose sudden appearance
would chill him in his wildest fits of mirthful mischief, and send
him cowering to a corner of the room; where he would remain huddled
together, and apparently stupefied and motionless, till the count
quitted the apartment.

At the moment of my writing this, Zamor still resides under my roof.
During the years he has passed with me he has gained in height, but
in none of the intellectual qualities does he seem to have made any
progress; age has only stripped him of the charms of infancy without
supplying others in their place; nor can I venture to affirm, that his
gratitude and devotion to me are such as I have reason to expect they
should be;* for I can with truth affirm, that I have never ceased to
lavish kindness on him, and to be, in every sense of the word, a good
mistress to him.

     * This wretch, whom the comtesse du Barry loaded with her
     favours and benefits, conducted her to the scaffold.--EDITOR
     (i.e., author)

There was one member of my establishment, however, whom I preferred
to either Dorine or Zamor and this was Henriette, who was sincerely
attached to me, and who, for that very reason, was generally disliked
throughout the castle. I bad procured a good husband for her, on whom I
bestowed a post which, by keeping both himself and his wife in the
close vicinity of the castle, prevented my kind friend from quitting
me. However, my poor Henriette was not fated to enjoy a long connubial
felicity, for her husband, being seized with a violent fever, in a fit
of delirium threw himself from a window into the court below, and was
taken up dead. Slander availed herself even of this fatal catastrophe
to whisper abroad, that the death of the unhappy man arose from his deep
sense of his wife's misconduct and infidelity. This I can positively
assert was not the case, for Henriette was warmly and truly attached
to him, and conducted herself as a wife with the most undeviating
propriety. The fact was, that Henriette had drawn upon herself a
general hatred and ill will, because she steadily refused all gossiping
invitations, where my character would have been pulled to pieces, and
the affairs of my household discussed and commented upon: there, indeed,
she had sinned beyond all hope of pardon.

She it was who pointed out to me the perfidious conduct of the duc de
Villeroi. This gentleman, from the very beginning of my rise in the
royal favour, had demonstrated the most lively friendship for me, of
which he sought to persuade me by the strongest protestations, which,
weak and credulous as I was, I implicitly believed, until one day that
Henriette, availing herself of my being quite alone, let me into
the secrets of my establishment and furnished me with a key to the
assiduities of M. de Villeroi.

Amongst the females in my service was one named Sophie, young, beautiful
both in face and form, of a sweet disposition, and every way calculated
to inspire the tender passion. M. de Villeroi felt the full force of her
charms, and became the whining, sighing lover--her very shadow. Up to
this period I had had no cause of complaint against M. de Villeroi; and
certainly I should not have interfered with his plebeian flame had he
not thought proper, when questioned by my enemies as to his continual
presence at the castle, and great assiduities there, to protest that
his visits thither were not in honour of my charms, but for those of my
waiting-maid. However, my vanity had rendered me his constant dupe.

 I felt perfectly astonished as I listened to Henriette's recital;
and when she had ceased, I conjured her to tell me candidly, whether she
had not invented the whole tale either out of spite to Sophie or with
a design to make me break off further friendship with the duke. This she
most solemnly denied, and recommended me to make inquiries amongst my
friends, who would be compelled to bear testimony to the truth of all
she had asserted. I determined to do so; and the first person whom I was
enabled to interrogate respecting the affair was the bishop de Senlis.
This prelate came frequently to see me, and I found his society each day
more pleasing. He served me as a kind of gazette of all that passed with
the princesses, in whose opinion I had still the misfortune not to be in
the very highest estimation. When occasion required it, M. de Roquelaure
would venture to take my part, and that without making a single enemy;
for who could be offended with one so affable, so good, so full of
kindness towards all? In fact, the worthy bishop was so fortunate as to
obtain the love of every person who knew him; and, in the most select
society of opposing parties, each would reserve a place for good M. de
Roquelaure.

When I questioned him as to his knowledge of the affair, his
embarrassment was evident.

"What a world is this!" cried he. "Why, let me ask, do you listen to
those who repeat such mortifying tales to you?"

"Because, my lord, my friends will not see me made the sport of a
heartless and perfidious friend; and, if you entertain the slightest
regard for me, I conjure you to tell me all you know upon the subject."

"And do you, my good madam, conceive that it would become my sacred
calling to speak ill of my neighbour? besides, surely you would not
attach any belief to the idle reports spread about the castle by
ill-disposed persons?"

"All this has nothing to do with my question, my lord," resumed I. "I
ask you once again, whether you ever heard the duc de Villeroi assign
his passion for one of my women as the reason for his visits to me? Have
you, my lord bishop? I entreat you to answer."

"Madam, I have not," said the good prelate, colouring deeply.

"Ah, monsieur de Roquelaure," cried I, "you must not say mass to-morrow,
for I greatly fear you have just committed a certain fault which is
styled fibbing."

The bishop made no reply, and his silence spoke volumes of confirmation.

Scarcely had he quitted me than the duc d'Aiguillon entered, to whom I
put the same question; and he frankly confessed, that the excuse alleged
to have been used by the duc de Villeroi was strictly the expression of
that gentleman.

"I was wrong," said the duke, "not to have mentioned it to you, but I
was silent from a desire to preserve peace between you. Now that
the affair has been revealed to you, I will not sully my lips with a
falsehood for the pleasure of upholding an unprincipled man."

"I will not ask you to tell me more," replied I. "I know enough to make
me despise the cowardly spirit of him whom I reject as unworthy of my
friendship." So saying, I ran to my writing-table, and wrote to the duc
de Villeroi the following note:--

"MONSIEUR LE DUC,--I love my friends with all their faults, but I cannot
pardon their perfidy; and, since from what I have heard I am left to
conclude, that but for the charms of my attendant Sophie, I should not
have been favoured with so many of your visits, I now write to warn you,
that I this day dismiss the unfortunate object of your admiration
from my service, and therefore recommend you to cease all further
communication. Your presence in my house would be any thing but
agreeable to me; and since the fair object which has hitherto attracted
you will no longer dwell under my roof, I presume your presenting
yourself before me would only be more painful than you have hitherto
found it. The frankness of my conduct may offend you, but it cannot
surprise or grieve you more than your duplicity has me.

"I remain with befitting sentiments, monsieur le duc,

"Your most humble and obedient servant."

When I had completed my letter, I rang, and a footman attended. "Go,"
said I to him, "carry this note immediately to the duc de Villeroi, and
wait, if it be necessary, the whole day, until you can return with the
assurance that you have delivered it into his own hand."

Whilst I was thus speaking to the man, who had been engaged by my
steward, and very recently entered into my service, I chanced to look at
him inadvertently, when my attention was arrested by seeing him rapidly
change colour. I could not at the moment conceive what could thus
agitate him, and making a sign for him to depart immediately upon his
commission, he slowly left the room, regarding me as he went in such a
manner, that I could not fail recognising him: and here, my friend, I
must lay aside every particle of self-love and vanity ere I can make you
a complete confession; the retrospect of my life brings many events,
of which the remembrance is indeed painful to me, and only the solemn
promise I am under to conceal nothing restrains me from consigning many
particulars to oblivion. I am once more about to incur the chance of
drawing down your contempt by my candour, but before I enter upon the
subject, permit me to conclude my affair with the duc de Villeroi.

My letter was a thunderbolt to the duke. He better than any one knew
the extent of my credit, which he dreaded, lest I might employ it to his
injury; he therefore hastened to reply to me in the following words:--

"MADAME LA COMTESSE,--I am a most unhappy, or rather a vilely
calumniated man; and my enemies have employed the most odious means of
making me appear despicable in your eyes. I confess, that not daring to
aspire to you, I stopped at the footstool of your throne, but I wholly
deny the words which have been laid to my charge. I venture to expect
from your justice that you will grant me the favour of an opportunity of
exculpating myself from so black a charge. It would be cruel indeed to
condemn a man without hearing him.

"I am with the most profound respect, &c."

To this hypocritical epistle I replied by another note as follows:--

"Every bad and unfavourable case may be denied, monsieur le duc,
therefore I am not astonished at your seeking to repel the charge of
having uttered the disrespectful words laid to your charge. As for the
explanations you offer me they would be fruitless; I will have none with
those who have either been my friends or appeared to be such. I must
therefore beg you will cease all attempts at a correspondence which can
lead to no good results.

"I have the honour to remain, &c., &c."

After this business was despatched, I caused Sophie to be sent for to
attend me.

"Well, Sophie," said I, "you perceive the confusion you have occasioned
through your folly. Is it then true that the duc de Villeroi has spoken
of love to you?"

"Yes, indeed, madam," replied the poor girl, weeping bitterly.

"And you return his passion."

"I believe so, madam."

This _naif_ confession made me smile. I continued--

"Then you are not quite sure of the fact?"

"No, madam; for when I do not see him I forget all about it; but when
he is before me, so handsome and so generous, so full of love, I try to
make myself equally fond of him; but somehow I cannot help preferring
his courier, M. l'Eclair."

These last words completely destroyed all attempts at preserving my
gravity, and I burst into the most uncontrollable laughter, which,
however, soon gave place to a painful recollection of how soon this
young and artless creature, as simple as she was beautiful, was likely
to lose this open-heartedness in the hands of her seducer.

"Sophie," said I to her at last, "this unfortunate affair forbids my
retaining you any longer in my service; I am compelled to send you from
me. I trust this noble lover of yours will never forsake you; have a
care only to conceal from him, should you persist in encouraging his
addresses, that he has a rival in the person of his courier, l'Eclair."

Sophie threw herself weeping at my feet. I raised and encouraged her by
the kindest words to pursue the right path, but I remained steady in my
determination of sending her from me.

I was not mistaken. The duc de Villeroi became the possessor of poor
Sophie, and publicly boasted of having her under his protection. He did
not, however, proceed to these extreme measures until he had essayed
every possible means of effecting a reconciliation with me, and he
employed more than a hundred persons in the vain attempt of inducing me
to pardon him. With this view the marechale de Mirepoix, whose succour
he had implored, observed to me that it was sometimes necessary to feign
to overlook an insult; I replied, that dissimulation was an art I knew
nothing of, nor did I wish ever to acquire it.

"Really, my dear countess," cried she, "you should not live at court,
you are absolutely unfit for it."

"It may be so," replied I; "but I would rather quit Versailles
altogether than be surrounded by false and perfidious friends."

All the remonstrances of the good-natured marechale were fruitless, I
could not bring myself to pardon a man who had so openly outraged my
friendship.

Directly I saw the king, I related the whole affair to him.

"It must be confessed," said he, "that the duke has behaved very ill
towards you, but he has certainly shown his taste as far as regards
Sophie. She is a sweet creature."

"Ah! you are all alike," cried I. "You gentlemen think a pretty face
an excuse for every fault; and he only deserves blame who can attach
himself where beauty is wanting."

"Because he is a simpleton for so doing," said Louis XV with the utmost
gravity, giving me at the same time an affectionate embrace.



CHAPTER XXIV


     The prince des Deux Ponts--Prince Max--The dauphin and Marie
     Antoinette--The comtesse du Barry and Bridget Rupert--The
     countess and Genevieve Mathon--Noel--Fresh amours--Nocturnal
     adventure--Conclusion of this intrigue

All my friends were not treacherous as the duc de Villeroi; and I may
gratefully assert I have possessed many true and sincere ones who
have ever faithfully adhered to my fortunes. One in particular I shall
mention here, that I may recommend him to your warmest esteem; for,
although of high and distinguished rank, he did not despise the good
opinion of the meanest citizen. I speak of the prince de Deux Ponts,
Charles Auguste Christian. This prince, who chanced to visit France
during the zenith of my court favour, was very desirous of seeing me,
and both he and his brother were presented to me by the comte de
la Marche, their friend, and they quickly requested the honor of my
friendship. Auguste Christian pleased me most by his gentle and amiable
manners, although most persons gave the preference to his brother,
Maximilian Joseph, better known by the name of prince Max. Auguste
Christian, in the fervour of his attachment, speaking openly to me of
the delicacy of the situation, proposed to me, in case of any reverse,
that I should seek an asylum in his dominions; and I must do him the
justice to say, that at the death of the king, far from forgetting his
proffer, he lost no time in reminding me of it. Fidelity and attachment
such as his, is sufficiently rare to merit a place in my journal. The
prince des Deux Pouts was presumptive heir to an immense inheritance,
that of the electorate of Bavaria, and the electorate Palatine, to the
latter of which he was direct heir after the decease of his cousin, the
present elector. I could almost wish that he had already succeeded to
these possessions: he can never reign too soon for the happiness of his
subjects.

Prince Max had served in France; he was extremely well looked upon
at court both by the king and the princesses. As for the dauphiness,
prejudiced against him as she was by her mother, she naturally regarded
him with an eye of cool mistrust, and manifested her open dislike by
never inviting him to any of her parties. Prince Max spoke of this
pointed neglect to the king, who immediately summoned the dauphin. "My
son," said he to him, "I see with regret that prince Max is never an
invited guest at any of your balls and fetes. Remember, he belongs to
a family which has been our most ancient ally, and do not take up the
quarrels of a house which, until your marriage, has ever been disposed
in deadly hatred to us."

If the dauphin was not gifted with a very extensive capacity, he was
possessed of sufficient plain sense to comprehend, and to enter into the
views of his grandfather, to whom he pledged his word, that henceforward
prince Max should be treated with more respect; and he kept his word,
for the instant he returned to his apartments, he commanded the duc
de la Vauguyon to add the name of prince Max to the list of invited
persons. When the paper was drawn out it was carried to the dauphiness,
who was with her husband. She read on till she came to the name
of prince Max, which she desired might be erased; but the dauphin
interfered. "Oblige me," cried he, "by suffering this name to remain;
his ancestors have for ages been the friends of our family, and his
alliance may one day be useful to us in Germany."

The dauphiness comprehended the signification of these words, and her
fine eyes were filled with tears. However, she no longer insisted upon
the erasure, when her husband, who most tenderly loved her, further
declared it to be the king's desire that nothing should be done which
could in any way displease the prince des Deux Ponts. He was, therefore,
from that period invited to the house of Marie Antoinette, who
indemnified herself for this compulsory civility, by refusing to bestow
upon him one single smile or gracious word. It must indeed be agreed
that the dauphiness had brought with her into France too many Austrian
notions, which she was long in losing for those of a wife and mother;
but now at the moment of my writing this, she is much changed, and is
as true a French woman as though she had been born and bred in Paris.
Unfortunately, the people appear slow in giving her credit for her
altered opinions, and to this mistake will she owe the loss of that
general love and popularity to which she has such just claims.

Prince Auguste Christian entertained for me a sincere regard, which I
returned with the truest friendship. My feelings were as pure and simple
as his own, spite of the odious calumnies with which my enemies have
attacked this harmless acquaintance; but their slander in this matter
was no worse than the manner in which they spoke of every person who
visited me. According to their report, I was the mistress of all who
presented themselves. 'Tis well for you, ye courtly dames, that you may
convert friends into lovers with impunity; be the number ever so
large none dares arraign your conduct; but for those of more humble
pretensions it is indeed considered atrocious to number more than two
admirers; should we ask to swell the list to a third--what comments,
what scandal, what vilifying reports are in circulation! In this letter,
my friend, I shall speak to you exclusively of myself. You will find
little in my conduct to praise, and I fear, much to blame. You will
easily perceive my heart was better than my head; and dear as your
opinion is to me, I write on in the hope, that should my candid avowal
lose me any portion of your esteem, it will yet obtain me a larger share
of your friendship. The dismissal of Sophie from my service occasioned a
vacancy in my household. Immediately her departure was known, I
received numberless solicitations from all who heard of it. Three days
afterwards, Henriette came to inform me that the wife of an attorney of
Chatelet solicited the task of serving me in Sophie's stead; that she
was a well-looking and respectable person, and might very probably suit
me.

"Will you see her, madam?" continued Henriette. "She is recommended by
the marchioness de Montmorency."

"Willingly," answered I; "desire her to come in." Henriette left me and
quickly returned, introducing the new candidate.

At the first glimpse I recognised Brigitta Rupert, that haughty girl,
who had been my early friend and companion at Saint Aure, but who
found it impossible to continue her friendship and favour to a humble
milliner's girl. The sight of her occasioned me a surprise by no means
of a pleasing nature; and the involuntary start I gave, evidently
recalled me to her recollection. In a moment her cheeks assumed the
paleness of death, and her self-love seemed to suffer the most horrible
torments at the light in which our rencontre mutually placed us. As soon
as she could command herself sufficiently to speak, she cried,

"Ah! madam, do I then appear in your presence?"

"Yes," replied I, "before the poor and humble milliner to whom you so
harshly refused your friendship."

"Fortune has well avenged you, madam," said Brigitta, in a melancholy
tone; "and as I can easily imagine how unpleasant the sight of me must
be, I will hasten to relieve you from it."

These last words touched me, and restored me in a degree to my natural
good temper.

"Brigitta," said I to her, "after the little affection you have ever
manifested for me, it would be impossible as well as unwise to take
you into my service; but let me know in what way I can best promote the
interest of yourself and husband, and I pledge myself to accomplish it
for you."

"I thank you, madam," answered she, resuming her accustomed haughtiness,
"I came to solicit a situation near the person of the comtesse du Barry.
Since that is refused me, I have nothing more to request."

"Be it as you please," replied I. Brigitta made a low courtesy, and
quitted the room.

Henriette, who had been the witness of this scene, expressed her
apprehensions that I should be displeased with her for introducing an
unwelcome visitor to me. "No," cried I, "'tis not with you I am vexed.,
but myself."

"And why so, dear madam?"

"Because I reproach myself with having in my own prosperity forgotten
one of my earliest and dearest friends, who loved me with the tenderest
affection. Possibly she may now be in trouble or difficulties, from
which I might have a thousand ways of relieving her; but it is never
too late to do good. To-morrow, early, you shall set out for Paris; when
there, go to the rue Saint Martin, inquire for the sign of la Bonne Foi;
it is kept by a pastrycook, named M. Mathon, of whom I wish you to learn
every particular relative to his daughter Genevieve."

My wishes were laws to Henriette, who instantly retired to prepare for
her journey. I had not ventured to desire her to glean any information
concerning the brother of Genevieve, and yet at the recollection of the
handsome Nicolas my heart beat impetuously. With what impatience did I
await the return of Henriette! at length she came.

"Well!" said I.

"I have found out M. Mathon," answered Henriette.

"Which, the father?"

"Yes, madam."

"And what is his present occupation?"

"As usual, madam, superintending his kitchen and shop."

"Is he alone in his business?"

"Oh, no! madam; he is assisted by his son, a fine dark handsome young
man."

"His son then lives with him?"

"Yes, madam, and he is married."

"Married!--but it is not of this young man I wish to speak, but of his
sister, of Genevieve; tell me of her."

"I only learned, madam, that she had married a tailor, named
Guerard--who, after having been very unsuccessful in business, died
suddenly, leaving her wholly destitute with two young children."

I immediately wrote the following note to my early friend:--

"The comtesse du Barry having heard of the misfortunes of madame
Guerard, and knowing how much she is deserving of a better fate, is
desirous of being useful to her. She therefore requests madame Guerard
will call next Monday, at two o'clock, on her at her hotel, rue de la
Pussienne."

Poor Genevieve nearly fainted when she received this note, which was
conveyed to her by a footman wearing my livery. She could not imagine to
whom she was indebted for procuring her such exalted patronage, and
she and her family spent the intervening hours before her appointed
interview in a thousand conjectures on the subject. On Monday,
punctually at two o'clock, she was at the hotel dressed in her best,
her lovely countenance setting off the humble style of even her holiday
garb. She knew me the instant she saw me; and, in the frank simplicity
of her own heart imagining she could judge of mine, she ran to me, and
threw herself into my arms, exclaiming,

"Oh, my dear Jeannette, what pleasure does it afford me to meet you
again. Oh! I see how it is; you are the friend of the comtesse du
Barry, and it is to you I shall owe my future good fortune, as I do this
present mark of her favor."

"No, my good Genevieve," cried I, weeping for joy, "she who now embraces
you is the comtesse du Barry."

After we had a little recovered ourselves, I took my friend by the hand,
and led her to a sofa, where we seated ourselves side by side. Returning
to the scenes of our early youth, I related to Genevieve all that had
occurred since--my adventures, faults, and favour. When I had concluded
my recital, Genevieve commenced hers, but it was soon told. There is
little to relate in the life of a woman who has passed her days in the
virtuous discharge of her duties.

Our mutual confidences being over, and having again exchanged a most
affectionate embrace, I put into the hands of my companion a portfolio,
containing 30,000 livres in bank bills. I promised her likewise to
obtain for her some lucrative situation. "Do more than this for me!"
cried Genevieve. "Since you will still grant me your friendship, secure
for me the happiness of occasionally meeting you. I can with truth
declare, that of all your proofs of kindness and regard, that which I
prefer is the pleasure of seeing you."

This ingenuous request touched my heart, and I replied to it by fondly
caressing the warm-hearted Genevieve, and assuring her that my purse
and my house should be ever open to her. We then resumed our interesting
reminiscences, and Genevieve was the first to speak of her brother. At
the name of Nicolas I felt the blood mount to my very forehead, and
an indefinable sensation passed over me at the mention of him who had
possessed my virgin love. I strove, however, to conceal from my friend
the powerful emotion which agitated me, and I replied, with apparent
tranquillity, that I should be happy to assist her brother with the best
of my credit and influence; and I kept my word by obtaining for him,
at the solicitation, of his sister, some lucrative situation, the exact
nature of which I do not now recollect, where they resided together in
ease and comfort. I had only to recommend them to the notice of M. de
Boulogne, who felt himself much flattered at being selected by me to
make the fortunes of my two friends.

From this time Genevieve visited me as frequently as she could, and her
society delighted me; whilst, in her conversation I found a frankness
and sincerity which I had vainly sought for at court. She had loved me
when a simple milliner, and she cherished the same fond regard for me in
my improved situation. Her friendship has not forsaken me in my
reverses; and I feel quite assured that death only will dissolve the
tender friendship which still subsists between us. As for her brother,
he spared me much shame and confusion by never seeking my presence; a
meeting with him would indeed have overwhelmed me with painful
recollections.

And now, my friend, I am about to relate to you an adventure, the bare
mention of which covers my cheek with guilty blushes; fain would I
conceal it from you, but my promise is given to lay my whole heart
before you, and it shall be done, cost what it may.

I know not why it should ever have been permitted you gentlemen to
frame laws, which, while they permit you, in the gratification of your
passions, to descend ever so low in the scale of society without any
disgrace attaching itself to you from the obscure condition of the
object of your search, to us females it is prohibited, under penalty
of incurring the utmost degradation, to gratify the inclination of our
hearts when awakened by one of more humble rank than our own. A great
lord may love a kitchen maid, a noble duke, like M. de Villeroi, may
indulge his fancy for a waiting-woman, and yet lose no portion of his
dignity, or of the esteem in which the world holds him; but, on the
other hand, woe to the high-born dame who should receive the homage of
an obscure citizen, or the noble countess who should lend a favourable
ear to the sighs of her _valet de chambre_; the public voice would loud
and angrily inveigh against so flagrant a breach of decorum. And why
should this be? But, my friend, do you not see in my seeking to defend
so weak a cause sufficient intimation that such a justification involves
a consciousness of requiring it? Alas! I plead guilty, and will no
longer delay the painful confession I have to make.

Do you remember a singularly handsome young man, who, during my abode
with madame Lagarde, fascinated me till my very senses seemed bewildered
by my passion. You know how he betrayed me, and how, through him, I
was expelled the house, as well as the termination of this foolish
adventure. You are now to pass over seven or eight years, and take
your place with me in the drawing-room, in which I stood when I rang
to summon a servant to convey a letter to the duc de Villeroi. You may
remember what I told you in the last chapter of the person who entered,
of his agitation and his blushes, and of his fixing his eyes with deep
meaning upon me till he quitted the room-this servant was Noel!

Had I listened to the dictates of prudence, I should, without loss of
time, have obtained against him a _lettre de cachet_, which would have
freed me from all chance of discovery through his means; but I could not
listen to such cool-blooded, though cautious, suggestions. One idea only
took possession of my mind--the absurd desire to know what had become of
Noel since we separated, and by what accident I now found him wearing
my livery in the castle. With this intent I availed myself of the first
moment I was secure from interruption, to summon him to my presence. He
threw himself at my feet, imploring of me to pardon his audacity. "Alas,
madam!" said he, "I am more unfortunate than guilty. I saw you walking
some time since, and I could obtain no rest or peace till I was
fortunate enough to obtain admission to your establishment. Punish me
for my temerity if you will; expel me from the castle, have me confined
in a prison, I deserve it all; but, voluntarily, I cannot leave this
house; and if you will only permit my stay, I solemnly vow you shall
see nothing in my conduct but the zeal of an attached and respectful
servant."

I was weak enough to pardon Noel and shortly after to raise him to the
rank of _valet de chambre_, which brought him infinitely too much about
me.

Yes, my friend, the woman is, after all attempts to excuse it, blamable
for bestowing her affection on one below herself in the scale of
society. Nature herself appears to have planted in our bosoms a kind of
instinct, which warns us from it, and a prejudice against all those who
so degrade themselves. It is different with men; they can confer rank
and elevation on the beloved object. A woman should always have reason
to look up to and feel proud of the man to whom she consigns her heart;
this species of vanity is mixed with the noblest love, and the woman who
can overlook it, acts from passion of the lowest, basest kind. How easy
is it to reason! Alas! Why have I not always acted as well as I speak.

I was thus again a second time enthralled by Noel, and much more so,
too, than I will now tell you. My faithful Henriette, whose devoted
attachment for me kept her ever watchful of my safety and reputation,
was thunderstruck at perceiving what I vainly strove to conceal from
her; and, as she has since told me, was long in deciding whether to
speak to me of the affair, when an unexpected incident arose, which
determined her, at every risk of my displeasure, to use her endeavors
to put an end to so disgraceful a connexion, which must infallibly have
ended in my disgrace.

One night, or rather midnight, all was at rest in the castle, and I was
sleeping peacefully in the arms of Noel, when all at once I was awakened
by the sudden opening of an outer door, which announced to me the
approach of the king, who had merely one more door to open ere he would
be in my apartment. Noel, terrified, leaped quickly out of bed, and
ran to seek refuge in a small chamber adjoining where Henriette
slept. Happily she was yet awake; and, by the light of a night-lamp or
_veilleuse_ recognized Noel, who, with clasped hands, conjured her to
take pity upon him. Henriette saw the danger, and putting out her hand,
seized him, and drawing him rapidly towards her, made him lie down
beside her. Noel, struck with her goodness, was preparing to offer her
the same marks of his gratitude he had shown me of his respect; but
repulsing him, she said in a low voice, "Wretch, think not it is on your
account I thus expose my reputation; 'tis to save that of my beloved
mistress; either conduct yourself with silent respect or you are
lost." At this threat Noel 's courage melted away and he lay still as
a frightened child. "Listen," said Henriette, "if you do not quit this
place to-morrow at break of day, without seeking to see madame again,
I will denounce you to the king, who will inflict upon you the most
dreadful punishment."

Whilst these things were passing in the chamber of Henriette, I did not
feel perfectly at ease on my side, and many were the wise reflections I
made upon my folly, as well as the promises I gave never again to expose
myself to such imminent danger. Nor did my terrors abate till after the
king had quitted me. At the sound of my bell Henriette hastened to my
bed-side.

"My good Henriette," said I to her, trembling from head to foot, "what a
night of anxiety have I passed, I must indeed confess--"

"Fear not, my beloved mistress," replied she; "I will watch over your
safety, and trust to be enabled fully to provide for it."

I durst not then ask for any further explanation of her words, for such
was the ascendancy her good and steady conduct had given her over me,
that she would certainly have blamed me for my glaring imprudence. I
pressed her hand in mute thankfulness; she comprehended my silence and
left me to myself.

At the end of some days, seeing nothing of Noel, I ventured to question
her as to his fate: she then related to me all you have been told, and
added, that the day following this shameful and unfortunate night she
had lost no time in apprizing the comte Jean of all that had occurred,
who had quickly despatched Noel out of the kingdom, furnishing him with
a purse of ten thousand livres to defray his travelling expenses. Such
was the fortunate termination of this disgraceful affair; and now,
having completed my painful confession, I will change the subject to
others doubtless more calculated to interest you than the recital of
such lapses.



CHAPTER XXV


     Madame du Barry succeeds in alienating Louis XV from the duc
     de Choiseul--Letter from madame de Grammont--Louis XV--The
     chancellor and the countess--Louis XV and the abbe de la
     Ville--The marechale de Mirepoix and madame du Barry

Matters now assumed an air of importance. My struggle with the des
Choiseuls had become a deadly war, which could only be terminated either
by his downfall or my dismissal from court; this latter measure was not
very probable; an old man is not easily detached from a woman whom he
loves, and each day only added to my ascendancy over the mind of the
king. It is true, that the same force of habit which enchained Louis XV
to me bound him likewise to M. de Choiseul. The idea of change terrified
him; and so great was his dread of fresh faces, that he would have
preferred dying with his old minister, to creating a younger one who
might witness his end. Happily the duke himself brought on the crisis of
his fate; his power was cramped on all sides, yet, resolved not to lay
it down till the last extremity, he sought to stay his failing credit
with the rising influence of the dauphiness. His enemies were not slow
in pointing out to the king his minister's frequent visits and great
assiduities to a foreign princess, and enlarged upon the fatal effects
this new alliance might produce to the monarchy.

Meanwhile the chancellor, threatened by the parliaments, saw only one
way of averting the storm which was about to burst on his head. This was
to introduce into the cabinet persons entirely devoted to himself;
but to accomplish his purpose, it was necessary to exclude the duc de
Choiseul and his party. M. de Maupeou came to me in December, and after
having gently scolded me for what he termed my carelessness, he showed
me a letter from the duchesse de Grammont, which, he said, would
wonderfully aid our plans. This letter was written to one of the
presidents of the parliament of Toulous, M. de ----. I cannot give you
his name; for, although I have preserved the original of the letter, I
have mislaid the envelope on which the address was written. I here give
you a copy of this curious and important production:--

"MONSIEUR LE PRESIDENT,--I promised to give you the exact details of all
that passed in this gay metropolis, and 'tis with much pleasure I sit
down to fulfill my engagement. Things go on much as usual, or, perhaps,
I should be speaking more correctly, were I to say they are rapidly
progressing from bad to worse. We have no longer a king in France;
all power is lodged in the hands of one sprung from the most infamous
origin; who, in conjunction with others as intriguing as herself,
seeks only to ruin the 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 _a propos_ 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 _director of
foreign affairs_, an office created for him, and the bishopric _in
partibus_ of Tricomie. The good abbe 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
_negotiation_; I well foresaw all the difficulties, and entertained no
hopes of its success, but upon second thoughts, I considered it better I
should accept the mission; for, in case of a negative being returned,
it will be safe in my keeping, and I will not add to the chagrin of a
failure the shame of a defeat."

"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--_Lettre de cachet _--Anecdote--
     Spectre of Philip II, king of Spain--The duc de Choiseul
     banished--Visits to Chanteloup--The princesses--The dauphin
     and dauphiness--Candidates for the ministry

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 _lettre de cachet_ against
his 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 _lettres de cachet_ 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 in