*This gentleman would have been an able coadjutor for SirRobert 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.”
The king of Denmark—The courtesans of Paris—The duc deChoiseul and the bishop of Orleans—Witty repartees of theking of Denmark—His visit to madame du Barry—“The court ofking Petaud,” a satire—Letter of the duc d’Aiguillon toVoltaire—The duchesse de Grammont mystified—Unpublishedletter 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 abbé 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 Vrillière), 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 hiscredo?”
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, theVeni Creatoralso.”
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 celebratedsavantsandliterati, 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 fêtes 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.”
“Miséricorde!” 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 theliterati, 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 aDe 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.
When is the presentation to take place?—Conversation onthis subject with the king—M. de Maupeou and M. de laVauguyon—Conversation on the same subject with the king andthe duc de Richelieu—M. de la Vrillière—M. Bertin—-LouisXV and the comtesse—The king’s promise—The fire-works, ananecdote—The marquise de Castellane—M. de Maupeou at theduc 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 maréchal 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 Vrillière 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 yourbatonleft.”
“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 alit 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’sfemme-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 atrepartee in the most trivial circumstances. The story iswell known of the man who came to ask for his aid, sayingthey were related. “How?” asked the duke. “Sir, by Adam.”“Give this man a penny,” said the duke, turning to agentleman of his train; “and if all of his relations givehim as much he will soon be a richer man than I am.”If our readers will turn to “Joe Miller,” Page 45, they willfind this jest attributed to the witty duke of Buckingham.It is a very good joke for a duke, but savors more of adesire 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 thisfille.”
“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 maréchale 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, whichChonwrote 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.
A word concerning the duchesse de Choiseul—The apartment ofthe Comte de Noailles—The Noailles—Intrigues forpresentation—The comte de Bearn—M. Morand once more—Visitof the comtesse Bearn to the comtesse du Barry—Conversation—Interested complaisance The king and thecomtesse 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 château: 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 château, 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 château 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,capitoulof 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 ladypresenteuse. 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 astepmotherto 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 amarraine(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 futuredauphine. This was the point aimed at by all the ambitious courtiers. Comte Jean thought these conditions preposterous. He had acarte blanchefrom 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, adjournedsine 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 theworse.”)
“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 agarde 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 futuredauphine.”
“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 considerswrittenengagements 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:—