*Louis XV had a habit of making his own coffee after dinner.One day the coffee boiled over the sides of the pot, andmadame du Barry cried out, “Eh, Lafrance, ton cafe f —- lecamp.” (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.
Journey to Choisy—The comtesse du Barry and Louis XV—Theking of Denmark—The czar Peter—Frederick II—The abbé dela Chapelle—An experiment—New intrigues—Secret agents-Thecomtesse and Louis XV—Of the presentation—Letter of thecomtesse 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 château 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 theentréeto 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, andla Frondewill 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 muchéclatattached 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 abbé, 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 château. The king was near me with his hat in his hand; the duc de Duras gave me his arm. M. l’ abbé 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 abbé, 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 abbé 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 château. 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 theParc-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 hisdevoirsto 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 chevalière 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 château. 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 château.”
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 orallettre 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 mego, will I notgo? 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 maréchal; 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.
The comtesse and the duc d’Aiguillon—M. de Soubise—LouisXV and the duc d’Aiguillon—Letter from the comtesse to theking—Answer of the king-The “Nouvelles a la Main”—Thecomtesse and Louis XV—The supper—The court ladiesmystified—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 maréchal,” 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 maréchal.”
“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 château knew of their lovers, and there waslivingevidence of the tenderness of madame Adélaïde: 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. Whenmesdames royalescried 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 ofbonbonswith 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 hisdear friendM. 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 Vrillière had come to ask for alettre de cachetagainst 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 hisPolarmajesty. 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 theblack 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 maréchale 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 tothemselves, of having nostrangers; 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 maréchale 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.
The sieur Ledoux—Thelettre de cachet—The duc de laVrillière—Madame de Langeac—M. de Maupeou—Louis XV—Thecomte 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 Vrillière; 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 Vrillière 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 Vrillière was a brazen-faced rogue; a complete thief, without dignity, character, or heart. His cupidity was boundless: thelettres de cachetemanated 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 Vrillière. 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 thepetit la Vrillière, 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 maréchal 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.