“J’ai perdu tout mon bonheur.”
“Yes, madam,” continued his majesty, “I promise you, that had Rousseau after his success chosen to step forward as a candidate for public favour, he would soon have overthrown Voltaire.”
“Pardon me,” replied I; “but I cannot believe that would have been possible under any circumstances.”
“And why not?” asked the king; “he was a man of great talent.”
“Doubtless, sire, but not of the kind to compete with Voltaire.”
The king then changed the conversation to Thérèse, inquiring whether she possessed any attractions?
“None whatever, sire,” replied the duke; “at least none that we could perceive.”
“In that case,” rejoined his majesty, “she must have charmed her master by some of those unseen perfections which take the deepest hold of the heart; besides I know not why we should think it strange that others see with different eyes to ourselves.”
I made no secret with the comte Jean of my visit, and he likewise expressed his desire to know a man so justly celebrated, and, in its proper place, you, may hear how he managed to effect this, and what befell him in consequence—but, to finish for the present with Rousseau, for I will not promise that I shall not again indulge in speaking of him. I will just say, that after the lapse of two or three days from the time of my last visit, the idea occurred to me of sending him a thousand crowns in an Indian casket. This I sent by a servant out of livery, whom I strictly enjoined not to name me but to say simply that he came from a lady. He brought back the casket to me unopened, and the following billet from Rousseau:—
“MADAM,—I send back the present you would force upon my acceptance in so concealed a manner; if it be offered as a testimony of your esteem I may possibly accept it, when you permit me to know the hand from which it comes. Be assured, madam, that there is much truth in the assertion of its being more easy to give than to receive.
“I have the honour to remain, madam, yours, etc., etc.,
“J. J. ROUSSEAU.”
This was rather an uncouth manner of refusing; nevertheless, when at this distance of time I review the transaction, I cannot help admitting that I well deserved it. Perhaps when it first occurred I might have felt piqued, but since I have quitted the court I have again read over the works of J. J. Rousseau, and I now speak of him, as you see, without one particle of resentment.
I must now speak to you of a new acquaintance I made about this Period—that of the two duchesses d’Aiguillon. From my first entrance into the château until the close of 1770, madame d’Aiguillon, the daughter-in-law, observed a sort of armed neutrality towards me; true, she never visited me, but she always met me with apparent satisfaction at the houses of others; thus she managed to steer clear of one dangerous extreme or the other till the downfall of the des Choiseuls; when the duc d’Aiguillon having been nominated to the ministry, she perceived that she could not, without great ingratitude, omit calling to offer me her acknowledgments, and accordingly she came. On my side, I left no means untried of rendering myself agreeable to her; and so well did I succeed, that from that moment her valuable friendship was bestowed on me with a sincerity which even my unfortunate reverses have been unable to shake; and we are to this day the same firm and true friends we were in the zenith of my power. Not that I would seek to justify the injury she sought to do our queen, but I may and do congratulate myself, that the same warmth which pervades her hatreds likewise influences her friendships.
I cannot equally boast of the treatment I received from the duchess dowager d’Aiguillon, who, as well as her daughter-in-law, came to see me upon the promotion of her son. She overloaded me with caresses, and even exceeded her daughter-in-law in protestations of devotion and gratitude. You should have heard her extol my beauty, wit, and sweetness of disposition; she, in fact, so overwhelmed me with her surfeiting praises, that at last I became convinced that, of the thousand flattering things she continually addressed to me, not one was her candid opinion; and I was right, for I soon learned, that in her circle of intimates at the houses of the Beauffremons, the Brionnes, and above all, the marquise du Deffant, she justified her acquaintance with me, by saying it was a sacrifice made to the interests of her son, and amused these ladies by censuring my every word and look. The dowager’s double-dealing greatly annoyed me; nevertheless, not wishing to vex her son, or her daughter-in-law, I affected to be ignorant of her dishonourable conduct. However, I could not long repress my indignation, and one day that she was praising me most extravagantly, I exclaimed, “Ah, madam, how kind it would be of you to reserve one of these pretty speeches to repeat at madame du Deffant’s.” This blow, so strong yet just, rather surprised her; but, quickly rallying her courage, she endeavoured to persuade me that she always spoke of me in the same terms. “It may be so,” replied I; “but I fear that you say so many flattering things to me, that you have not one left when out of my sight.”
The maréchale de Mirepoix used to say, that a caress from madame d’Aiguillon was not less to be dreaded than the bite of M. d’Ayen. Yet the duchess dowager has obtained a first-rate reputation for goodness; every one styled herthe good duchesse d’Aiguillon. And why, do you suppose? Because she was one of those fat, fresh, portly-looking dames of whom you would have said, her very face and figure bespoke the contented goodness of her disposition; for who would ever suspect malice could lurk in so muchembonpoint? I think I have already told you that this lady expired whilst bathing, of an attack of apoplexy, in the month of June, 1772. Her son shed many tears at her loss, whilst I experienced but a very moderate share of grief.
Adieu, my friend; if you are not already terrified at the multiplicity of the letters which compose my journal, I have yet much to say; and I flatter myself the continuance of my adventures will be found no less interesting than those you have perused.
The king’s friends—The duc de Fronsac—The duc d’Ayen’sremark—Manner of living at court—The marquis de Dreux—Brézé—Education of Louis XV—TheParc-aux-Cerfs—Itshousehold—Its inmates—Mère Bompart—Livres expended on theParc-aur-Cerfs—Good advice—Madame
I was now firmly fixed at court, the king, more than ever devoted to me, seemed unable to dispense with my constant presence. I had so successfully studied his habits and peculiarities, that my empire over him was established on a basis too firm to be shaken, whilst my power and unbounded influence convinced my enemies, that, so long as the present monarch sat upon the throne of France, their attempts at diminishing my credit and influence would only recoil upon themselves. Louis XV generally supped in my apartments every evening, unless indeed, by way of change, I went to sup with him. Our guests were of course of the first order, but yet not of the most exemplary morals. These persons had tact, and saw that, to please the king, they must not surpass him; so that, if by chance he should reflect on himself, he would appear to advantage amongst them. Poor courtiers! It was labour in vain. The king was in too much fear of knowing himself to understand that study: he knew the penetration and severity of his own judgment, and on no account would he exercise it at his own expense.
The duc de Duras, although a man of little wit, was yet gay and always lively. He amused me; I liked his buoyant disposition, and forgave him although he had ranged himself with the protesting peers. In fact, I could not be angry with him. The folly of opposition had only seized on him because it was epidemic. The dear duke had found himself with wolves, and had begun to howl with them. I am sure that he was astonished at himself when he remembered the signature which he had given, and the love he had testified for the old parliament, for which, in fact, he cared no more than Jean de Vert. God knows how he compensated for this little folly at the château. It was by redoubling his assiduities to the king, and by incessant attentions to me. In general, those who wished to thrive at court only sought how to make their courage remembered; M. de Duras was only employed in making his forgotten.
The prince de Terigny, the comte d’Escars, the duc de Fleury, were not the least amusing. They kept up a lively strain of conversation, and the king laughed outrageously. But the vilest of the party was the duc de Fronsac. Ye gods! what a wretch! To speak ill of him is no sin. A mangled likeness of his father, he had all his faults with not one of his merits. He was perpetually changing his mistresses, but it cannot be said whether it was inconstancy on his part, or disgust on theirs, but the latter appears to me most probable. Though young, he was devoured by gout or some other infirmity, but it was called gout out of deference to the house of Richelieu. They talked of the duchess de ———, whose husband was said to have poisoned her.
The saints of Versailles—the duc de la Vauguyon, the duc d’Estissac, and M. de Durfort—did like others. These persons practised religion in the face of the world, and abstained from loose conversation in presence of their own families; but with the king they laid aside their religion and reserve, so that these hypocrites had in the city all the honours of devotion, and in the royal apartments all the advantages of loose conduct. As for me, I was at Versailles the same as everywhere else. To please the king I had only to be myself. I relied, for the future, on my uniformity of conduct. What charmed him in the evening, would delight again the next day. He had an equilibrium of pleasure, a balance of amusement which can hardly be described; it was every day the same variety; the same journeys, the same fêtes, the balls, the theatres, all came round at fixed periods with the most monotonous regularity. In fact, the people knew exactly when to laugh and when to look grave.
There was in the château a most singular character, the grand master of the ceremonies of France. His great-grandfather, his grandfather, his father, who had fulfilled these functions for a century, had transmitted to him their understanding and their duties. All he thought of was how to regulate the motions and steps of every person at court. He adored the dauphin and dauphiness, because they both diverted and fatigued themselves according to the rules in such cases made and provided. He was always preaching to me and quoted against me the precedents of Diane de Poitiers, or Gabrielle d’Estreés. One day he told me that all the misfortunes of Mademoiselle de la Vallière occurred in consequence of her neglect of etiquette. He would have had all matters pass at court during the old age of Louis XV as at the period of the childhood of Louis XIV, and would fain have had the administration of theParc-aux-Cerfs, that he might have arranged all with due ceremonies.
Since this wordParc-aux-Cerfshas escaped my pen, I will tell you something of it. Do you know, my friend, that but little is known of this place, of which so much has been said. I can tell you, better than any other person, what it really was, for I, like the marquise de Pompadour, took upon myself the superintendence of it, and busied myself with what they did there. It was,entre nous, the black spot in the reign of Louis XV, and will cost me much pain to describe.
The vices of Louis XV were the result of bad education. When an infant, they gave him for governor the vainest, most coxcombical, stupidest of men—the duc de Villeroi, who had so well served the king (si bien servi le roi),*
* The countess alludes to thechansonwritten, after hisfamous defeat, “Villeroi, Villeroi a fort bien servi leroi.” (Ed.) i.e., author
Never had courtier so much courtiership as he. He saw the young prince from morning till night, and from morning till night he was incessantly repeating in his ears that his future subjects were born for him, and that they were all dependent on his good and gracious pleasure. Such lessons daily repeated, necessarily destroyed the wise instructions of Massillon. When grown up, Louis XV saw the libertinism of cardinal Dubois and the orgies of the regency: madame de Maillis’ shameless conduct was before his eyes and Richelieu’s also. Louis XV could not conduct himself differently from his ministers and his family. His timid character was formed upon the example of others. At first he selected his own mistresses, but afterwards he chose some one who took that trouble off his hands. Lebel became purveyor in chief to his pleasures; and controlled in Versailles the house known as theParc-aux-Cerfs.
As soon as the courtiers knew of the existence and purposes of this house, they intrigued for the control of it. The king laughed at all their efforts, and left the whole management to Lebel, under the superintendence of the comte de Saint-Florentin, minister of the royal household. They installed there, however, a sort of military chief, formerly a major of infantry, who was called, jestingly, M. de Cervieres; his functions consisted in an active surveillance, and in preventing young men from penetrating the seraglio. The soldiers at the nearest station had orders to obey his first summons. His pay was twelve thousand livres a year.
A female styled thesurintendantehad the management of the domestic affairs; she ruled with despotic sway; controlled the expenses; preserved good order; and regulated the amusement of her charges, taking care that they did not mix one with the other. She was an elderly canoness of a noble order, belonging to one of the best families in Burgundy. She was only known at theParcasMadame, and no one ventured to give her any other title. Shortly after the decease of Mme. De Pompadour, she had succeeded in this employ a woman of low rank, who had a most astonishing mind. Louis XV thought very highly of her, and said that if she were a man he would have made her his minister. She put the harem on an admirable system, and instructed theodalisquesin all the necessary etiquette.
The Madame of my time was a woman of noble appearance, tall, ascetic, with a keen eye and imperious manner. She expressed a sovereign contempt for all the low-born beauties confided to her trust. However, she did not treat her wards ill, for some one of them might produce a passion in the heart of the king, and she was determined to be prepared for whatever might fall out. As to the noble ladies, they were her favourites. Madame did not divide her flock into fair and dark, which would have been natural, but into noble and ignoble. Besides Madame, there were two under-mistresses, whose duties consisted in keeping company with the young ladies who were placed there. They sometimes dined with new comers, instructed them in polite behaviour, and aided them in their musical lessons or in dancing, history, and literature in which theseéléveswere instructed. Then followed a dozen women of lower station, creatures for any service, half waiting women, half companions, who kept watch over the young ladies, and neglected nothing that could injure each other at every opportunity. The work of the house was performed by proper servants and male domestics, chosen expressly for their age and ugliness. They were paid high, but in return for the least indiscretion on their part, they were sent to linger out their existence in a state prison. A severe watch was kept over every person of either sex in this mysterious establishment. It was requisite, in fact, that an impenetrable veil should be cast over the frailties of the king; and that the public should know nothing of what occurred at theParc-aux-Cerfs.
The general termélèveswas applied to the young persons who were kept there. They were of all ages from nine to eighteen years. Until fifteen they were kept in total ignorance of the city which they inhabited. When they attained that age, no more mystery was made of it; they only endeavoured to prevent them from believing that they were destined for the king’s service. Sometimes they were told that they were imprisoned as well as their family; sometimes, a lover rich and powerful kept them concealed to satisfy his love. One thought she belonged to a German prince, another to an English lord. There were some, however, who, better informed, either by their predecessors, or by chance, knew precisely what was in store for them, and accordingly built some exceedingly fine castles in the air. But when they were suspected to be so knowing, they were sent away, and either married (if pregnant), or compelled to enter a cloister or chapter.
The noble damsels were served with peculiar etiquette, their servants wore a green livery. Those who belonged to the ignobles, had their valets clothed only in gray. The king had arranged this, and applauded it as one of the most admirable decisions of his life, and contended with me that the families who paid this impost for his pleasures, were greatly indebted to him for it. I assure you, my friend, that there are often very peculiar ideas in the head of a king.
Aftermadame, thesous-madames, the young ladies, came a lady, who had no title in the house, because she “carried on the war” out of doors, but still was a most useful personage. In very truth la Mère Bompart was a wonderful animal. Paint to yourself a woman rather small than large, rather fat than lean, rather old than young, with a good foot, a good eye, as robust as a trooper, with a decided “call” for intrigue, drinking nothing but wine, telling nothing but lies, swearing by, or denying God, as suited her purpose. Fancy such an one, and you will have before youla Mère Bompart, Pourvoyeuse en chef des celludes du Parc-aux-Cerfs.
She was in correspondence with all sorts of persons, with the most celebratedappareilleuses, and of course with the most noted pimps. She treated Lebel as her equal, went familiarly to M. de Sartines and occasionally condescended to visit M. de Saint-Florentin. Everybody at court received her graciously; everybody but the king and myself, who held her in equal horror.
TheParc-aux-Cerfscost enormous sums. The lowest expense was calculated at 150,000 livres, to pay only the functionaries and the domestics, the education and the board of theélèves, etc. This does not include the cost of therecruiting service, the indemnities paid to families, the dowry given with them in marriage, the presents made to them, and the expenses of the illegitimate children: this was enormous in cost, at least 2,000,000 livres a year, and yet I make the lowest estimation. TheParc-aux-Cerfswas kept up for thirty-four years: it cost annually 4 or 5,000,000 livres, and that will amount to nearly 150,000,000 (£ 6,250,000). If you think I mistake, go through the calculation.
A short time after my sojourn at Versailles, when I was the acknowledged mistress of the king, the duc de Richelieu asked me if I had heard of theParc-aux-Cerfs? I asked him, in my turn, what he meant, and if I could procure any account of the place. He then told me of the care which madame de Pompadour bestowed On the place, the advantage she drew from it, and assured me of the necessity for following her example. I spoke of this to comte Jean, and begged his advice. My brother-in-law replied:—
“You must do as the marquise de Pompadour did, and as the duc de Richelieu has advised. They spend a vast deal of money in this house, and I undertake to look over their accounts. Nominate me your prime minister, and I shall be the happiest of men. It is impossible but there must be something to be gleaned from his majesty.”
“In truth, my dear brother-in-law, you would be in your element; money to handle and young girls to manage. What more could you covet? You will establish a gaming table at theParc-aux-Cerfs, and never quit it again.”
Comte Jean began to laugh, and then seriously advised me to follow the plain counsel of the duc de Richelieu.
I decided on doing so. I sent for Madame. She came with all the dignity of an abbess of a regally founded convent. But in spite of her pretensions, I only saw in her the rival of Gourdan and Paris, and treated her as such; that is, with some contempt, for with that feeling her office inspired me. She told me all I have described to you, and many other things which have since escaped me. At that time there were only fourélèvesin the house. When she had given me all the details I wished, I sent her away, desiring to be informed of all that passed in her establishment.
Fête given by the comtesse de Valentinois—The comtesse duBarry feigns an indisposition—Her dress—The duc de Cossé—The comte and comtesse de Provence—Dramatic entertainment—Favart and Voisenon—A few observations—A pension—Themaréchale de Luxembourg—Adventure of M. de Bombelles—Copyof a letter addressed to him—Louis XV—M. de Maupeou andmadame du Barry
My present situation was not a little embarrassing; known and recognised as the mistress of the king, it but ill accorded with my feelings to be compelled to add to that title the superintendent of his pleasures; and I had not yet been sufficiently initiated into the intrigues of a court life to accept this strange charge without manifest dislike and hesitation. Nevertheless, whilst so many were contending for the honour of that which I condemned, I was compelled to stifle my feelings and resign myself to the bad as well as the good afforded by my present situation; at a future period I shall have occasion again to revert to theParc-aux-Cerfsduring the period of my reign, but for the present I wish to change the subject by relating to you what befell me at a fête given me by madame de Valentinois, while she feigned to give it in the honour of madame de Provence.
The comtesse de Valentinois, flattered by the kindness of the dauphiness’s manner towards her, and wishing still further to insinuate herself into her favour, imagined she should promote her object by requesting that princess would do her the honour to pass an evening at her house; her request was granted, and that too before the duchesse de la Vauguyon could interfere to prevent it. Furious at not having been apprized of the invitation till too late to cause its rejection, she vowed to make the triumphant countess pay dearly for her triumph; for my own part I troubled myself very little with the success of madame de Valentinois, which, in fact, I perceived would rather assist than interfere with my projects. Hitherto I had not made my appearance at any of the houses of the nobility when the princesses were invited thither; this clearly proved to the public, in general, how great was the opposition I experienced from the court party. I was now delighted to prove to the Parisians that I was not always to lead the life of a recluse, but that I could freely present myself at those parties to which other ladies were invited. However, as my friends apprehended that the comtesse de Provence might prevail upon her lady of honour not to invite me, by the advice of the chancellor and the minister for foreign affairs, it was arranged that I should for a week previous to the fête feign a severe indisposition. It would be impossible to describe the joy with which these false tidings were received by my enemies. We are all apt to picture things as we would have them, and already the eager imaginations of the opposing party had converted the account of my illness into an incurable and mortal disease.
Every hour my friends brought me in fresh anecdotes of the avidity with which the rumour of my dangerous state had been received, whilst I lay upon what the credulous hopes of my enemies had determined to be my death-bed, laughing heartily at their folly, and preparing fresh schemes to confound and disappoint their anticipated triumph.
One very important object of consideration was my dress for the coming occasion. The king presented me with a new set of jewels, and himself selected the materials for my robe and train, which were to be composed of a rich green satin embroidered with gold, trimmed with wreaths of roses, and looped up with pearls; the lower part of this magnificent dress was trimmed with a profusion of the finest Flemish lace. I wore on my head a garland of full blown roses, composed of the finest green and gold work; round my forehead was a string of beautiful pearls, from the centre of which depended a diamond star; add to this a pair of splendid ear-rings, valued at 100,000 crowns, with a variety of jewels equally costly, and you may form some idea of my appearance on that eventful evening. The king, who presided at my toilette, could not repress his admiration; he even insisted upon clasping my necklace, in order that he might, as he said, flatter himself with having completed such a triumph of nature and art.
At the hour fixed upon I set out, conducted by the ducs d’Aiguillon and de Cossé, and now I remember I have introduced this latter to you for the first time, however I will promise that it will not be for the last; he possessed, and still possesses all the virtues of his noble house, he was impetuous from a deeply feeling heart, and proud from a consciousness of being properly appreciated. Young, handsome, and daring, he was pre-eminently calculated both to inspire love, and to feel it; it was quite impossible for him to fail in winning the affections of any female he exerted himself to please, and even at the present time that he has lost some of his earlier graces, he is still irresistible as ever; his naturally gay disposition was but ill suited to nourishing grave or philosophic reasoning, but then he was the soul of company, and possessed a fine and delicate wit which ever vented itself in the most brilliant sallies. M. de Cossé, like the knights of old, was wholly devoted to his king and his mistress, and would, I am sure, had the occasion required it, have nobly died in defence of either; I only pray he may never be put to the proof. I saw much of him at the beginning of our acquaintance, but as his many amiable qualitie became better known, I found myself almost continually in his society, indeed as I have something to confess in the business, I could hardly choose a better opportunity than the present, did I not recollect that the good duc d’Aiguillon is waiting all this while for me to announce theentréeof our party into the ante-room of Madame de Valentinois.
My entrance was a completecoupe-de-théâtre. I had been imagined languishing on the bed of sickness, yet there I stood in all the fulness of health and freshness of beauty. I could very easily read upon each countenance the vexation and rage my appearance of entire freedom from all ailment excited; however, I proceeded without any delay to the mistress of the house, whom I found busily engaged in seating her visitors, and playing the amiable to the dauphiness. This princess seemed equally astonished at my unexpected apparition; nevertheless, taken off her guard, she could not prevent herself from courteously returning the profound salutation I made her. As for the duchesse de la Vauguyon, when she saw me, she turned alternately from red to white, and was even weak enough to give public vent to her fury. The comte de Provence, who had been told that I was not expected, began to laugh when he perceived me, and taking the first opportunity of approaching me, he said, “Ah, madame! so you too can mystify your friends, I see! Have a care; the sight of charms like yours is sufficient to strike terror into any adversaries, without having recourse to any expedient to heighten their effect.” Saying this he passed on without giving me the opportunity of replying, as I could have wished to have done.
The maréchale de Mirepoix, to whom I had confided my secret, and of whose fidelity I was assured, was present at the fête. I availed myself of the offer of a seat near her and directly we were seated, “You are a clever creature,” said she, “for you have completely bewildered all the female part of this evening’s society, and by way of a finishing stroke will run away with the hearts of all the flutterers here, before the fair ladies they were previously hovering around, have recovered their first astonishment.”
“Upon my word,” said I, smiling, “I do not wonder at the kind looks with which the ladies favour me, if my presence is capable of producing so much mischief.”
“Pray, my dear,” answered the maréchale, “be under no mistake: you might be as much beloved as others are, if you did not monopolize the king’s affections; the consequence is, that every woman with even a passable face looks upon you as the usurper of her right, and as the fickle gentlemen who woo these gentle ladies are all ready to transfer their homage to you directly you appear, you must admit that your presence is calculated to produce no inconsiderable degree of confusion.”
The commencement of a play which formed part of the evening’s entertainment obliged us to cease further conversation. The first piece represented was “Rose et Colas,” a charming pastoral, to which the music of Monsigny gave a fresh charm; the actors were selected from among the best of the Comedie Italienne—the divine Clairval, and the fascinating mademoiselle Caroline. I was completely enchanted whilst the play lasted; I forgot both my cabals and recent triumph, and for a while believed myself actually transported to the rural scenes it represented, surrounded by the honest villagers so well depicted; but this delightful vision soon passed away, and soon, too soon I awoke from it to find myself surrounded by myexcellentfriends at court.
“Rose et Colas” was followed by a species of comedy mixed with songs. This piece was wholly in honour of the dauphiness, with the exception of some flattering and gallant allusions to myself and some gross compliments to my cousin the chancellor, who, in new silk robe and a fine powdered wig, was also present at this fête.
The performers in this little piece, who were Favart, the actor, and Voisenon, the priest, must have been fully satisfied with the reception they obtained, for the comedy was applauded as though it had been one of thechefs d’oeuvreof Voltaire. In general a private audience is very indulgent so long as the representation lasts, but no sooner has the curtain fallen than they indulge in a greater severity of criticism than a public audience would do. And so it happened on the evening in question; one couplet had particularly excited the discontent of the spectators, male and female; I know not what prophetic spirit inspired the lines.
The unfortunate couplet was productive of much offence against the husband and lover of madame Favart, for the greater part of the persons present perfectly detested my poor cousin, who was “to clip the wings of chicanery.” Favart managed to escape just in time, and the abbé de Voisenon, who was already not in very high favour with his judges, was compelled to endure the full weight of their complaints and reproaches; every voice was against him, and even his brethren of the French academy, departing from their accustomed indulgence upon such matters, openly reprimanded him for the grossness of his flattery; the poor abbé attempted to justify himself by protesting that he knew nothing of the hateful couplet, and that Favart alone was the guilty person upon whom they should expend their anger.
“I am always,” cried he, “doomed to suffer for the offences of others; every kind of folly is made a present to me.”
“Have a care, monsieur l’ abbé,” exclaimed d’Alembert, who was among the guests, “have a care! men seldom lavish their gifts but upon those who are rich enough to return the original present in a tenfold degree.” This somewhat sarcastic remark was most favourably received by all who heard it, it quickly circulated through the room, while the poor, oppressed abbé protested, with vehement action.
The fête itself was most splendidly and tastefully conducted, and might have sent the different visitors home pleased and gratified in an eminent degree, had not spite and ill-nature suggested to madame de la Vauguyon, that as the chancellor and myself were present, it must necessarily have been given with a view of complimenting us rather than madame de Provence. She even sought to irritate the dauphiness by insinuating the same mean and contemptible observations, and so far did she succeed, that when madame de Valentinois approached to express her hopes that the entertainment which she had honoured with her presence had been to her royal highness’s satisfaction, the dauphiness coolly replied, “Do not, madame, affect to style this evening’s fête one bestowed in honour of myself, or any part of my family; ‘tis true we have been the ostensible causes, and have, by our presence, given it all the effect you desired, but you will pardon our omitting to thank you for an attention, which was in reality, directed to the comtesse du Barry and M. de Maupeou.”
FACSIMILE OF LETTER FROM MME. DU BARRY TO THE DUC DE BRISSAC.
(photograph of original handwritten note omitted) TRANSLATION
Heavens! my dear friend, how sad are the days when I am deprived of the happiness of passing the time with you, and with what joy do I watch for the moment which will bring you to me. I shall not go to Paris to-day, because the person I was going to see is coming Thursday. As you will be going away, I shall visit the barracks instead, for I believe you approve of the object. Adieu. I await you with impatience, with a heart wholly yours, which, in spite of your injustice, could never belong to any other, even if I had the wish. I think of you and that word of yours which you will surely regret; and still another regret is that I am deprived of you. That is the watchword of each instant.
THE COUNTESS Du Barry
At Louvecienne, Noon.
Madame de Valentinois came to me with tears in her eyes to repeat the cruel remark of the princess; the maréchale de Mirepoix, who heard her, sought to console her by assurances, that it would in no degree affect her interest at court. “Never mind, my good friend,” said she; “the pretty bird merely warbles the notes it learns from its keeper la Vauguyon, and will as quickly forget as learn them. Nevertheless, the king owes you recompense for the vexation it has occasioned you.”
Immediately that I found myself alone with the maréchale, I inquired of her what was the nature of the reparation she considered madame de Valentinois entitled to expect from the hands of his majesty. She replied, “‘Tis on your account alone that the poor countess has received her late mortification; the king is therefore bound to atone for it in the form of a pension. Money, my dear, money is a sovereign cure at court; calms every grief and heals every wound.”
I fully agreed with the good-natured maréchale; and, when I bade the sorrowful madame de Valentinois good night, I assured her I would implore his majesty to repair the mischief my presence had caused. Accordingly on the following day, when the king questioned me as to how far I had been amused with the fête given by madame de Valentinois, I availed myself of the opening to state my entire satisfaction, as well as to relate the disgrace into which she had fallen, and to pray his majesty to bestow upon her a pension of 15,000 livres.
“Upon my word,” exclaimed Louis XV, hastily traversing the chamber, “this fête seems likely to prove a costly one to me.”
“Nay, sire,” said I, “it was a most delightful evening; and you will not, I hope, refuse me such a trifle for those who lavished so much for my amusement.”
“Well,” cried he, “be it so; the countess shall have the sum she requires, but upon condition that she does not apply to me again.”
“Really your majesty talks,” replied I, “as though this trifling pension were to be drawn from your own purse.”
The king began to smile at my remark, like a man who knows himself found out. I knew him well enough to be certain that, had he intended the pension awarded madame de Valentinois to come from his own privy purse, he would scarcely have consented to bestowing on her more than a shabby pittance of a thousand livres per annum. It is scarcely possible to conceive an idea of the excessive economy of this prince. I remember, that upon some great occasion, when it was requisite to support the public treasury, which was failing, by a timely contribution, the duc de Choiseul offered the loan of 250,000 livres, whilst the king, to the astonishment of all who heard him, confined his aid to 2,000 louis! The maréchale de Mirepoix used to assert that Louis XV was the only prince of his line who ever knew the value of a crown. She had, nevertheless, managed to receive plenty from him, although, I must own, that she had had no small difficulty in obtaining them; nor did the king part with his beloved gold without many a sigh of regret.
At the house of madame de Valentinois I met the maréchale de Luxembourg, who had recently returned from Chanteloup. There really was something of infatuation in the general mania which seemed to prevail of treating the king’s sentiments with indifference, and considering his displeasure as an affair of no consequence. Before the disgrace of the Choiseuls they were equally the objects of madame de Luxembourg’s most bitter hatred, nor was madame de Grammont backward in returning her animosity; yet, strange as it may seem, no sooner was the Choiseul party exiled, than the maréchale never rested till she saw her name engraved on the famous pillar erected to perpetuate the remembrance of all those who had visited the exiles. She employed their mutual friends to effect a reconciliation, which was at length effected by letter, and a friendly embrace exchanged by proxy. These preliminaries over, the maréchale came to the king to make the request to which he had now become accustomed, but which did not the less amuse him. Of course Louis XV made no hesitation in granting her the request she solicited. Speaking to me of the subject, he said, “Thetendermeeting of madame de Grammont and the maréchal de Luxembourg must indeed be an overpowering sight; I only trust these two ladies may not drop the mask too soon, and bite each other’s ear while they are embracing.”
Madame de Luxembourg, daughter of the duc de Villeroi, had been first married to the duc de Boufflers, whose brows she helped to adorn with other ornaments than the ducal coronet; nor whilst her youth and beauty lasted was she less generous to her second husband: she was generally considered a most fascinating woman, from the loveliness of her person and the vivacity of her manners; but behind an ever ready wit, lurked the most implacable malice and hatred against all who crossed her path or purpose. As she advanced in life she became more guarded and circumspect, until at last she set herself up as the arbitress of high life, and the youthful part of the nobility crowded around her, to hear the lessons of her past experience. By the number and by the power of her pupils, she could command both the court and city; her censures were dreaded, because pronounced in language so strong and severe, as to fill those who incurred them with no hope of ever shining in public opinion whilst so formidable avetowas uttered against them; and her decrees, from which there was no appeal, either stamped a man with dishonour, or introduced him as a first-rate candidate for universal admiration and esteem, and her hatred was as much dreaded as ever her smiles had been courted: for my own part, I always felt afraid of her, and never willingly found myself in her presence.
After I had obtained for madame de Valentinois the boon I solicited, I was conversing with the king respecting madame de Luxembourg, when the chancellor entered the room; he came to relate to his majesty an affair which had occasioned various reports, and much scandal. The viscount de Bombelles, an officer in an hussar regiment, had married a mademoiselle Camp, Reasons, unnecessary for me to seek to discover, induced him, all at once, to annul his marriage, and profiting by a regulation which forbade all good Catholics from intermarrying with those of the reformed religion, He demanded the dissolution of his union with mademoiselle Camp. This attempt on his part to violate, upon such grounds, the sanctity of the nuptial vow, whilst it was calculated to rekindle the spirit of religious persecution, was productive of very unfavourable consequences to the character of M. de Bombelles; the great cry was against him, he stood alone and unsupported in the contest, for even the greatest bigots themselves would not intermeddle or appear to applaud a matter which attacked both honour and good feeling: the comrades of M. de Bombelles refused to associate with him; but the finishing stroke came from his old companions at the military school, where he had been brought up. On the 27th of November, 1771, the council of this establishment wrote him the following letter:—
“The military school have perused with equal indignation and grief the memorials which have appeared respecting you in the public prints. Had you not been educated in this establishment, we should merely have looked upon your affair with mademoiselle Camp as a scene too distressing for humanity and it would have been buried in our peaceful walls beneath the veil of modesty and silence; but we owe it to the youth sent to us by his majesty, for the inculcation of those principles which become the soldier as the man, not to pass over the present opportunity of inspiring them with a just horror of your misguided conduct, as well as feeling it an imperative duty to ourselves not to appear indifferent to the scandal and disgraceful confusion your proceedings have occasioned in the capital. We leave to the ministers of our religion, and the magistrates who are appointed to guard our laws, to decide upon the legality of the bonds between yourself and mademoiselle Camp, but by one tribunal you are distinctly pronounced guilty towards her, and that is the tribunal of honour, before that tribunal which exists in the heart of every good man. You have been universally cited and condemned. There are some errors which all the impetuosity of youth is unable to excuse, and yours are unhappily of that sort. The different persons composing this establishment, therefore, concur not only in praying of us to signify their sentiments, but likewise to apprize you, that you are unanimously forbidden to appear within these walls again.”
The chancellor brought to the king a copy of this severe letter, to which I listened with much emotion, nor did the king seem more calm than myself.
“This is, indeed,” said he at length, “a very sad affair; we shall have all the quarrels of Protestantism renewed, as if I had not had already enough of those of the Jansenists and Jesuits. As far as I can judge, M. de Bombelles is entitled to the relief he seeks, and every marriage contracted with a Protestant is null and void by the laws of France.”
“Oh, sire,” cried I, “would I had married a Protestant.”
The king smiled for a moment at my jest, then resumed:
“I blame the military school.”
“Is it your majesty’s pleasure,” inquired the chancellor, “that I should signify your displeasure to them?”
“No, sir,” replied Louis, “it does not come within your line of duty, and devolves rather upon the minister of war; and very possibly he would object to executing such a commission; for how could I step forward as the protector of one who would shake off the moral obligation of an oath directly it suits his inclinations to doubt its legality? This affair gives me great uneasiness, and involves the most serious consequences. You will see that I shall be overwhelmed with petitions and pamphlets, demanding of me the revocation of the edict of Nantes.”
“And what, sire,” asked the chancellor gravely, “could you do, that would better consolidate the glory of your reign?”
“Chancellor,” exclaimed Louis XV, stepping back with unfeigned astonishment, “have you lost your senses? What would the clergy say or do? The very thought makes me shudder. Do you then believe, M. de Maupeou, that the race of the Clements, the Ravaillacs, the Damiens, are extinct in France?”
“Ah, sire, what needless fears.”
“Not so needless as you may deem them,” answered the king. “I have been caught once, I am not going to expose myself to danger a second time. You know the proverb,—no, no, let us leave things as my predecessors left them; besides, I shall not be sorry to leave a little employment for my successor; he may get through it how he can, and spite of all the clamouring of the philosophers, the Protestants shall hold their present privileges so long as I live. I will have neither civil nor religious war, but live in peace and eat my supper with a good appetite with you, my fair comtesse, for my constant guest, and you, M. de Maupeou, for t his evening’s visitor.”
The conversation here terminated.