Memoirs of the Comtesse Du Barry
by baron de Etienne-Léon Lamothe-Langon · English · Gutenberg #2563 · 923,126 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Memoirs of the Comtesse Du Barry
Author: baron de Etienne-Léon Lamothe-Langon
Release date: March 1, 2001 [eBook #2563]
Most recently updated: November 10, 2016
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2563
Credits: Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEMOIRS OF THE COMTESSE DU BARRY ***
Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer
MEMOIRS OF THE COMTESSE DU BARRY
WITH MINUTE DETAILS OF HER ENTIRE CAREER AS FAVORITE OF LOUIS XV
“WRITTEN BY HERSELF”
By Baron Etienne Leon Lamothe-Langon
With a special introduction by Robert Arnot, M.A.
GUTENBERG EDITOR’S NOTE:
This delightful (piquant, the comtesse would say) pseudonymous work
was in fact written not “by herself” but by Baron Etienne Leon
Lamothe-Langon (1786-1864). The persona created is that of a woman
who always tells the truth as she sees it, but it is made clear to the
reader that what the narrator sees is very seldom exactly the objective
truth. The author ends as well as begins _in medias res_ (in the middle
of the action), thus creating an illusion of a slice of a journal but
simultaneously giving the reader the uneasy feeling that the first and
last chapters seem to be missing.
The French-style quotation marks have, for ease in typesetting and use,
been changed to American-style quotation marks, and the dot after the
name of Louis XV has been removed to conform to American punctuation.
Captions of illustrations are omitted because the illustrations
themselves cannot be inserted. A few minor editing errors have been
silently corrected. No other changes have been made; the irregularity in
italicizing or not italicizing, in translating or not translating French
words, and in punctuating quotations of letters, is in the text itself.
Notes are identified as coming from author, tr. (translator), editor, or
Gutenberg editor.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
Letter from Lebel--Visit from Lebel--Nothing conclusive--Another visit
from Lebel--Invitation to sup with the king--Instructions of the comte
Jean to the comtesse
CHAPTER II
A slight preface--Arrival at Versailles--_“La toilette”_--Portrait of
the king--The duc de Richelieu--The marquis de Chauvelin--The duc de la
Vauguyon-Supper with the king--The first night--The following day--The
curiosity of comte Jean--Presents from the king--How disposed of
CHAPTER III
The king’s message--Letter from the countess--A second supper at
Versailles--The duc d’Ayen--A short account of M. de Fleury--The duc de
Duras--Conversation with the king--The next day--A visit from the duc
de Richelieu--Visit from the duc de la Vauguyon--Visit from comte
Jean--Visit from the king--A third supper--Favor
CHAPTER IV
The duc d’Aiguillon--The duc de Fronsac--The duchesse de Grammont--The
meeting--Sharp words on both sides--The duc de Choiseul--Mesdames
d’Aiguillon--Letter from the duc d’Aiguillon--Reply of madame du
Barry--Mademoiselle Guimard--The prince de Soubise--Explanation--The
Rohans--Madame de Marsan--Court friendships
CHAPTER V
The duc de la Vauguyon and the comtesse du Barry--The marquis
de Chauvelin and the comtesse--M. de Montbarrey and the
comtesse--Intrigues--Lebel--Arrival of the du Barry family--The comte
d’Hargicourt--The demoiselles du Barry--Marriage of the comtesse--The
marquis de Bonrepos--Correspondences--The broken glass
CHAPTER VI
Journey to Choisy--The comtesse du Barry and Louis XV--The king of
Denmark--The czar Peter--Frederick II--The abbé de la Chapelle--An
experiment--New intrigues--Secret agents-The comtesse and Louis
XV--Of the presentation--Letter of the comtesse to the duc
d’Aiguillon--Reply--Prince de Soubise
CHAPTER VII
The comtesse and the duc d’Aiguillon--M. de Soubise--Louis XV and the
duc d’Aiguillon--Letter from the comtesse to the king--Answer of
the king-The “_Nouvelles a la Main_”--The comtesse and Louis XV--The
supper--The court ladies mystified--The comtesse and M. de Sartines
CHAPTER VIII
The sieur Ledoux--The _lettre de cachet_--The duc de la
Vrillière--Madame de Langeac--M. de Maupeou--Louis XV--The comte Jean
CHAPTER IX
The king of Denmark--The courtesans of Paris--The duc de Choiseul and
the bishop of Orleans--Witty repartees of the king of Denmark--His visit
to madame du Barry--“The court of king Petaud,” a satire--Letter of
the duc d’Aiguillon to Voltaire--The duchesse de Grammont
mystified--Unpublished letter of Voltaire’s
CHAPTER X
When is the presentation to take place?--Conversation on this subject
with the king--M. de Maupeou and M. de la Vauguyon--Conversation on
the same subject with the king and the duc de Richelieu--M. de
la Vrillière--M. Bertin---Louis XV and the comtesse--The king’s
promise--The fire-works, an anecdote--The marquise de Castellane--M. de
Maupeou at the duc de Choiseul’s--The duchesse de Grammont
CHAPTER XI
A word concerning the duchesse de Choiseul--The apartment of the Comte
de Noailles--The Noailles--Intrigues for presentation--The comte de
Bearn--M. Morand once more--Visit of the comtesse Bearn to the comtesse
du Barry--Conversation--Interested complaisance--The king and the
comtesse du Barry--Dispute and reconciliation
CHAPTER XII
The comtesse de Bearn--The supper--Louis XV--Intrigues against
my presentation--M. de Roquelaure--The scalded foot--The comtesse
d’Aloigny--The duc d’Aiguillon and madame de Bearn--Anger of the king’s
daughters--Madame Adélaïde and the comtesse du Barry--Dissatisfaction of
the king
CHAPTER XIII
Of the presentation--The king and the duc de Richelieu at comtesse du
Barry’s--M. de la Vauguyon--Conversation--Letter of the duke to the
comtesse du Barry--Reply--The countess unites herself with the Jesuit
party--Madame Louise--Madame Sophie--M. Bertin--Madame de Bercheny
CHAPTER XIV
The princesses consent to the presentation of madame du Barry--Ingenious
artifice employed by the king to offer a present to the duc de la
Vauguyon--Madame du Barry’s letter respecting it--The duke’s reply--The
king’s letter--The court in despair--Couplets concerning madame du
Barry--Her presentation--A change in public opinion--An evening party at
the house of the countess--Joy of her partizans--Conversation with the
chancellor respecting the lady of the maréchal de Mirepoix
CHAPTER XV
The Comte de la Marche, a prince of the blood--Madame de Beauvoir, his
mistress--Madame du Barry complains to the prince de Soubise of the
princess de Guémenée--The king consoles the countess for this--The duc
de Choiseul--The king speaks to him of madame du Barry--Voltaire writes
to her--The opinions of Richelieu and the king concerning Voltaire
CHAPTER XVI
Unpublished letter of Voltaire to madame du Barry--Reply of the
countess--The maréchale de Mirepoix--Her first interview with madame du
Barry--Anecdote of the diamonds of madame de Mirepoix--The king pays
for them--Singular gratitude of the maréchale--The portfolio, and an
unpublished letter of the marquise de Pompadour
CHAPTER XVII
Conversation of the maréchale de Mirepoix with the comtesse du Barry
on court friendship--Intrigues of madame de Bearn--Preconcerted meeting
with madame de Flaracourt---Rage of madame de Bearn--Portrait and
conversation of madame de Flaracourt with the comtesse du Barry--Insult
from the princesse de Guémenée--Her banishment--Explanation of the
king and the duc de Choiseul relative to madame du Barry--The comtesse
d’Egmont
CHAPTER XVIII
Intrigue of the comtesse d’Egmont with a shopman--His unhappy
fate--The comtesse du Barry protects him--Conduct of Louis XV upon the
occasion--The young man quits France--Madame du Barry’s letter to the
comtesse d’Egmont--Quarrel with the maréchal de Richelieu
CHAPTER XIX
Madame du Barry separates from madame de Bearn--Letters between
these ladies--Portrait of madame de l’Hôpital--The ladder--The
bell--Conversation with madame de Mirepoix--First visit to
Chantilly--Intrigues to prevent the countess from going thither--The
king’s Displeasure towards the princesses--The archbishop de Senlis
CHAPTER XX
Unpublished letter of Louis XV--Madame du Barry’s cousin, M. de
Maupeou--The comtesse du Barry saves the life of a young girl seduced by
the arts of the curé of her village--She obtains pardon of the comte
and comtesse de Louerne--The king presents her with Lucienne--A second
meeting with the youthful prophet--His further predictions--He is sought
for--His mysterious letter to the countess
CHAPTER XXI
Extraordinary anecdote of Louis XIV and madame de Maintenon--The
comtesse du Barry at Chantilly--Opinion of king and comte de la Marche
respecting the “Iron Mask”--Madame du Barry visits madame de Lagarde
CHAPTER XXII
The chevalier de la Morlière--Portrait of the duc de Choiseul--The
duc de Choiseul and the comtesse du Barry--No reconciliation
effected--Madame du Barry and the duc d’Aiguillon--Madame du Barry and
Louis XV
CHAPTER XXIII
Dorine--Mademoiselle Choin and the maréchal d’Uxelles--Zamor--M. de
Maupeou’s wig--Henriette--The duc de Villeroi and Sophie--Letter from
the comtesse du Barry to the duc de Villeroi--His reply--The countess
writes again--Madame du Barry and Sophie--Louis XV and the comtesse du
Barry
CHAPTER XXIV
The prince des Deux Ponts--Prince Max--The dauphin and Marie
Antoinette--The comtesse du Barry and Bridget Rupert--The countess and
Geneviève Mathon--Noël--Fresh amours--Nocturnal adventure--Conclusion of
this intrigue
CHAPTER XXV
Madame du Barry succeeds in alienating Louis XV from the duc de
Choiseul--Letter from madame de Grammont--Louis XV--The chancellor
and the countess--Louis XV and the abbé de la Ville--The maréchale de
Mirepoix and madame du Barry
CHAPTER XXVI
Baron d’Oigny, general post-master--The king and the countess read the
opened letters--The disgrace of de Choiseul resolved upon--_Lettre de
cachet _--Anecdote--Spectre of Philip II, king of Spain--The duc de
Choiseul banished--Visits to Chanteloup--The princesses--The dauphin and
dauphiness--Candidates for the ministry
CHAPTER XXVII
The comte de la Marche and the comtesse du Barry--The countess and the
prince de Condé--The duc de la Vauguyon and the countess--Provisional
minister--Refusal of the secretaryship of war--Displeasure of the
king--The maréchale de Mirepoix--Unpublished letter from Voltaire to
Madame du Barry--Her reply
CHAPTER XXVIII
A few words respecting Jean Jacques Rousseau--The comtesse du Barry
is desirous of his acquaintance--The countess visits Jean Jacques
Rousseau--His household furniture--His portrait--Thérèse--A second visit
from madame du Barry to Jean Jacques Rousseau--The countess relates her
visit to the king--Billet from J. J. Rousseau to madame du Barry--The
two duchesses d’Aiguillon
CHAPTER XXIX
The king’s friends--The duc de Fronsac--The duc d’Ayen’s remark--Manner
of living at court--The marquis de Dreux--Brézé--Education of
Louis XV--The _Parc-aux-Cerfs_--Its household--Its inmates--Mère
Bompart--Livres expended on the _Parc-aur-Cerfs_--Good advice--Madame
CHAPTER XXX
Fête given by the comtesse de Valentinois--The comtesse du Barry 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--The maréchale de Luxembourg--Adventure of M.
de Bombelles--Copy of a letter addressed to him--Louis XV--M. de Maupeou
and madame du Barry
CHAPTER XXXI
Madame du Barry purchases the services of Marin the gazetteer--Louis
XV and madame de Rumas--M. de Rumas and the comtesse du Barry--An
intrigue--_Dénouement_--A present upon the occasion--The duc de
Richelieu in disgrace--100,000 livres
CHAPTER XXXII
A prefatory remark--Madame Brillant--The maréchale de Luxembourg’s
cat--Despair of the maréchale--The ambassador, Beaumarchais, and the duc
de Chaulnes--the comte d’Aranda--Louis XV and his relics--The abbé de
Beauvais--His sermons--He is appointed bishop
CHAPTER XXXIII
M. D----n and madame de Blessac--Anecdote--The rendezvous and
the Ball--The wife of Gaubert--They wish to give her to the
king--Intrigues--Their results--Letter from the duc de la Vrillière to
the countess--Reply—Reconciliation
CHAPTER XXXIV
Conversation with the king--Marriage of the comte
d’Artois--Intrigues--The place of lady of honor--The maréchale de
Mirepoix--The comtesse de Forcalquier and madame du Barry--The comtesse
de Forcalquier and madame Boncault
CHAPTER XXXV
Marriage of madame Boncault--The comte de Bourbon Busset--Marriage of
comte d’Hargicourt--Disgrace of the comte de Broglie--He is replaced
by M. Lemoine--The king complains of ennui--Conversations on the
subject--Entry into Paris
CHAPTER XXXVI
Visit from a stranger--Madame de Pompadour and a Jacobinical
monk--Continuation of this history--Deliverance of a state prisoner--A
meeting with the stranger
CHAPTER XXXVII
A conspiracy--A scheme for poisoning madame du Barry--The four
bottles--Letter to the duc d’Aiguillon--Advice of the ministers--Opinion
of the physicians--The chancellor and lieutenant of police--Resolution
of the council
CHAPTER XXXVIII
Conclusion of this affair--A letter from the _incognita_--Her
examination--Arrest of Cabert the Swiss--He dies in the Bastille of
poison--Madame Lorimer is arrested and poisoned---The innocence of
the Jesuits acknowledged--Madame de Mirepoix and the 100,000
francs--Forgetfulness on the part of the lieutenant of police--A visit
from comte Jean--Madame de Mirepoix
CHAPTER XXXIX
My alarms--An _èlève_ of the _Pare-aux-Cerfs_--Comte Jean endeavours to
direct the king’s ideas--A supper at Trianon--Table talk--The king is
seized with illness--His conversation with me--The joiner’s daughter and
the small-pox--My despair--Conduct of La Martinière the surgeon
CHAPTER XL.
La Martinière causes the king to be removed to Versailles--The young
prophet appears again to madame du Barry--Prediction respecting
cardinal de Richelieu--The joiner’s daughter requests to see madame du
Barry--Madame de Mirepoix and the 50,000 francs--A _soirée_ in the salon
of madame du Barry
CHAPTER XLI
Interview with the joiner’s daughter--Consultation of the physicians
respecting the king--The small-pox declares itself--the comte de
Muy--The princesses--Extreme sensibility of madame de Mirepoix--The
king is kept in ignorance of his real condition--The archbishop of Paris
visits Versailles
CHAPTER XLII
First proceedings of the council--The dauphin receives the prelates with
great coolness--Situation of the archbishop of Paris--Richelieu evades
the project for confessing the king--The friends of madame du Barry
come forward--The English physician--The abbé Terray--Interview with the
prince de Soubise--The prince and the courtiers--La Martinière informs
the king of France the true nature of his complaint--Consequences of
this disclosure
CHAPTER XLIII
Terror of the king--A complication--Filial piety of the princesses--Last
interview between madame du Barry and Louis XV--Conversation with the
maréchale de Mirepoix--The chancellor Maupeou--The fragment--Comte Jean
CHAPTER XLIV
The duc d’Aiguillon brings an order for the immediate departure of
madame du Barry--The king’s remarks recapitulated--The countess holds
a privy council--Letter to madame de Mirepoix and the ducs de Cossé and
d’Aiguillon--Night of departure--Ruel--Visit from madame de Forcalquier
CHAPTER XLV
The duc d’Aiguillon’s first letter--The maréchale de Mirepoix--A second
letter from the duc d’Aiguillon--Numerous visitors
CHAPTER XLVI
A third letter from the duke--The king receives extreme unction--Letter
from madame Victoire to the dauphin--M. de Machault--A promenade with
the duc de Cossé--Kind attention from the prince des Deux Pouts--A
fourth letter from the duc d’Aiguillon--Comte Jean bids me farewell--M.
d’Aiguillon’s fifth letter, containing an account of the death of Louis
XV--The duc de la Vrillière--The _Lettre de cachet_--Letter to the
queen--Departure for the abbey of _Pont aux Dames_
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION BY ROBERT ARNOT
Up to the time of the Du Barry the court of France had been the stage
where the whole political and human drama of that country was enacted.
Under Louis XV the drama had been transformed into parades--parades
which were of as much importance to the people as to those who took
part in them. The spectators, hitherto silent, now began to hiss and be
moved. The scene of the comedy was changed, and the play was continued
among the spectators. The old theatre became an ante-chamber or a
dressing-room, and was no longer important except in connection with the
Cardinal de Bernis and the Duc de Richelieu, or Madame de Pompadour and
Madame du Barry.
The monarchy had still a step to take towards its downfall. It had
already created the _Pare aux Cerfs_ (Louis XV’s seraglio), but had
not yet descended to the Parisian house of prostitution. It made this
descent leaning on the arm of Madame du Barry. Madame du Barry was a
moral sister to Manon Lescaut, but instead of taking herself off to
Louisiana to repent, she plunged into the golden whirlpool at Versailles
as a finish to her career. Could the coaches of a King mean more than
the ordinary carriage of an abandoned girl?
Jeanne Vaubernier--known in the bagnios by the name of Mademoiselle
Lange--was born at Vaucouleurs, as was Jeanne d’Arc. Better still, this
later Jeanne said openly at Versailles--dared she say otherwise?--that
she was descended in a straight line from the illustrious, the
venerated, the august, sacred, national maid, Jeanne. “Why did Du Barry
come to Paris?’” says Leon Gozlan in that account of the Château de
Lucienne which makes a brilliant and learned chapter in the history of
France. “Does one ever know precisely why things are done? She obeyed
the magnet which attracts to Paris all who in themselves have a title to
glory, to celebrity, or to misfortune. Du Barry had a pretty, provincial
face, bright and charming, a face astonished at everything, hair soft
and ash-colored, blue eyes, veiled and half open, and a skin fair with
rose tints. She was a child of destiny. Who could have said, when she
crossed the great town in her basket cart, which rolled lazily along
on its massive, creaking wheels, that some day she would have equipages
more beautiful than any of those which covered her with mud in passing,
and on her arms more laces and diamonds than any of these ladies
attended by footmen in liveries?”
When Jeanne left the provinces to come to Paris, she found her native
country. She was granted the freedom of the city, and expanded in
her joy like a delicate plant transplanted into a hothouse. She found
herself at home for the first time; and felt that she could rule as a
despot over all frequenters of the streets. She learned fashion and
love at one and the same time. Gourdan had a hat made for her, and, as
a reward, initiated her into the customs. But she was called to other
destinies.
One day, when she was walking in the Tuileries, a lunatic--and lunatics
have second sight--asked her favor when she should become queen. Du
Barry said to herself: “This man is mad.” But then she thought of the
Pompadour, blushed--it was the only time--and turned her eyes towards
Versailles.
But Versailles was an unhoped-for shore to such a girl as this, a girl
known to all Paris. Would the King care to be the lover of one who had
ruled all his courtesans? Who could say? The King often wearied of what
he had. Had not a poet already been found who compared her to Venus:
O Jeanne, thy beauty seduces
And charms the whole world;
In vain does the duchess redden
And the princess growl;
They know that Venus rides proudly
The foam of the wave.
The poet, while not Voltaire, was no less a man than Bouffiers.
While the King was seeking a mistress--a nocturnal reverse of Diogenes,
fleeing from the lanterns of the wise--he found Jeanne Vaubernier. He
thought he could love her for one evening. “Not enough,” said she, “you
must love me until broad daylight.” So he loved her for a whole day.
What should one eat in order to be loved by royalty? Was it necessary to
have a coat of arms? She had them in number, because she had been loved
by all the great names in the book of heraldry. And so she begged the
Viscount Jean du Barry to give her the title of viscountess. “Better
still,” exclaimed Jean, “I will give you the title of countess. My
brother will marry you; he is a male scamp, and you are the female. What
a beautiful marriage!”
So they were united. The newly made countess was solemnly presented at
court by a countess of an ancient date, namely, the Countess de Bearn.
King Voltaire protested, in a satire entitled “_The Court of King
Petaud_” (topsy-turvy), afterwards denying it. The duc de Choiseul
protested, France protested, but all Versailles threw itself
passionately at the feet of the new countess. Even the daughters of the
King paid her court, and allowed her to call them by their pet
names: Loque, Chiffe, and Graille. The King, jealous of this gracious
familiarity, wished her to call him by some pet name, and so the
Bacchante, who believed that through the King she held all France in her
hand, called him “La France,” making him a wife to his Gray Musketeers.
Oh, that happy time! Du Barry and Louis XV hid their life--like the
sage--in their little apartments. She honeyed his chocolate, and
he himself made her coffee. Royalty consecrated a new verb for the
dictionary of the Academy, and Madame du Barry said to the King: “At
home, I can love you to madness.” The King gave the castle of Lucienne
to his mistress in order to be able to sing the same song. Truly the
Romeo and Juliet _de la main gauche_.
Du Barry threw out her fish-wifely epithets with ineffable tenderness.
She only opened her eyes half way, even when she took him by the throat.
The King was enchanted by these humors. It was a new world. But someone
said to him: “Ah, Sire, it is easy to see that your Majesty has never
been at the house of Gourdan.”
Yet Du Barry was adored by poets and artists. She extended both hands to
them. Jeanne’s beauty had a penetrating, singular charm. At once she
was blonde and brunette--black eyebrows and lashes with blue eyes,
rebellious light hair with darker shadows, cheeks of ideal contour,
whose pale rose tints were often heightened by two or three touches--a
lie “formed by the hand of Love,” as anthology puts it--a nose with
expressive nostrils, an air of childlike candour, and a look seductive
to intoxication. A bold yet shrinking Venus, a Hebe yet a Bacchante.
With much grace Voltaire says:
“Madame:
“M. de la Borde tells me that you have ordered him to kiss me on both
cheeks for you:
“What! Two kisses at life’s end
What a passport to send me!
Two is one too much, Adorable Nymph;
I should die of pleasure at the first.
“He showed me your portrait, and be not offended, Madame, when I tell
you that I have taken the liberty of giving that the two kisses.”
Perhaps Voltaire would not have written this letter, had he not read the
one written by the King to the Duc de Choiseul, who refused to pay court
to the left-hand queen:
“My Cousin,
“The discontent which your acts cause me forces me to exile you to
Chanteloup, where you will take yourself within twenty-four hours. I
would have sent you farther away were it not for the particular esteem
in which I hold Madame de Choiseul. With this, I pray God, my cousin, to
take you into His safe and holy protection.
“Louis.”
This exile was the only crime of the courtesan. On none of her enemies
did she close the gates of the Bastille. And more than once did she
place a pen in the hands of Louis XV with which to sign a pardon.
Sometimes, indeed, she was ironic in her compassion.
“Madame,” said M. de Sartines to her one day, “I have discovered a rogue
who is scattering songs about you; what is to be done with him?”
“Sentence him to sing them for a livelihood.”
But she afterwards made the mistake of pensioning Chevalier de Morande
to buy silence.
The pleasures of the King and his favorite were troubled only by the
fortune-tellers. Neither the King nor the countess believed in the
predictions of the philosophers, but they did believe in divination. One
day, returning from Choisy, Louis XV found under a cushion of his coach
a slip of paper on which was transcribed this prediction of the monk
Aimonius, the savant who could read all things from the vast book of the
stars:
“As soon as Childeric had returned from Thuringia, he was crowned King
of France And no sooner was he King than he espoused Basine, wife of the
King of Thuringia. She came herself to find Childeric. The first night
of the marriage, and before the King had retired, the queen begged
Childeric to look from one of the palace windows which opened on a park,
and tell what he saw there. Childeric looked out and, much terrified,
reported to the princess that he had seen tigers and lions. Basine sent
him a second time to look out. This time the prince only saw bears and
wolves, and the third time he perceived only cats and dogs, fighting
and combating each other. Then Basine said to him: I will give you
an explanation of what you have seen: The first figure shows you
your successors, who will excel you in courage and power; the second
represents another race which will be illustrious for their conquests,
and which will augment your kingdom for many centuries; but the third
denotes the end of your kingdom, which will be given over to pleasures
and will lose to you the friendship of your subjects; and this because
the little animals signify a people who, emancipated from fear of
princes, will massacre them and make war upon each other.”
Louis read the prediction and passed the paper to the Countess: “After
us the end of the world,” said she gaily. The King laughed, but the abbé
de Beauvais celebrated high mass at Versailles after the carnival of
1774, and dared to say, in righteous anger: “This carnival is the last;
yet forty days and Nineveh shall perish.” Louis turned pale. “Is it God
who speaks thus?” murmured he, raising his eyes to the altar. The next
day he went to the hunt in grand style, but from that evening he was
afraid of solitude and silence: “It is like the tomb; I do not wish
to put myself in such a place,” said he to Madame du Barry. The duc
de Richelieu tried to divert him. “No,” said he suddenly, as if the
Trappist’s denunciation had again recurred to him, “I shall be at ease
only when these forty days have passed.” He died on the fortieth day.
Du Barry believed neither in God nor in the devil, but she believed in
the almanac of Liège. She scarcely read any book but this--faithful to
her earliest habits. And the almanac of Liège, in its prediction for
April, 1774, said: “A woman, the greatest of favorites, will play her
last role.” So Madame the Countess du Barry said without ceasing:
“I shall not be tranquil until these forty days have passed.” The
thirty-seventh day the King went to the hunt attended with all the
respect due to his rank. Jeanne wept in silence and prayed to God as one
who has long neglected her prayers.
Louis XV had not neglected his prayers, and gave two hundred thousand
livres to the poor, besides ordering masses at St. Geneviève. Parliament
opened the shrine, and knelt gravely before that miraculous relic. The
least serious of all these good worshippers was, strange to say, the
curate of St. Geneviève: “Ah, well!” said he gaily, when Louis was dead,
“let us continue to talk of the miracles of St. Geneviève. Of what can
you complain? Is not the King dead?”
At the last moment it was not God who held the heart of Louis--it was
his mistress. “Ask the Countess to come here again,” he said.
“Sire, you know that she has gone away,” they answered.
“Ah! has she gone? Then I must go!” So he departed.
His end drew forth some maledictions. There were insults even at his
funeral services. “Nevertheless,” said one old soldier, “he was at the
battle of Fontenoy.” That was the most eloquent funeral oration of Louis
XV.
“The King is dead, long live the King!” But before the death of Louis
XVI they cried: “The king is dead, long live the Republic!”
Rose-colored mourning was worn in the good city of Paris. The funeral
oration of the King and a lament for his mistress were pronounced by
Sophie Arnould, of which masterpiece of sacred eloquence the last words
only are preserved: “Behold us orphaned both of father and mother.”
If Madame du Barry was one of the seven plagues of royalty, she died
faithful to royalty. After her exile to Pont aux Dames she returned to
Lucienne, where the duc de Cossé Brissac consoled her for the death of
Louis XV. But what she loved in Louis was that he was a king; her true
country was Versailles; her true light was the sun of court life. Like
Montespan, also a courtesan of high order, she often went in these dark
days to cast a loving look upon the solitary park in the maze of the
Trianon. Yet she was particularly happy at Lucienne.
I have compared her to Manon Lescaut, and I believe her to have been
also a sister to Ganesin. All three were destroyed by passion.
One day she found herself still young at Lucienne, although her sun was
setting. She loved the duc de Brissac, and how many pages of her past
romance would she that day have liked to erase and forget!
“Why do you weep, Countess?” asked her lover.
“My friend,” she responded, “I weep because I love you, shall I say it?
I weep because I am happy.”
She was right; happiness is a festival that should know no to-morrow.
But on the morrow of her happiness, the Revolution knocked at the castle
gate of Lucienne.
“Who goes there?”
“I am justice; prepare for destiny.”
The Queen, the true queen, had been good to her as to everybody. Marie
Antoinette remembered that the favorite had not been wicked. The debts
of Du Barry were paid and money enough was given to her so that she
could still give with both hands. Lucienne became an echo of Versailles.
Foreign kings and Parisian philosophers came to chat in its portals.
Minerva visited shameless Venus. But wisdom took not root at Lucienne.
For the Revolution, alas! had to cut off this charming head, which was
at one time the ideal of beauty--of court beauty. Madame du Barry gave
hospitality to the wounded at the arrest of the queen. “These wounded
youths have no other regret than that they have not died for a princess
so worthy as your Majesty,” she said. “What I have done for these brave
men is only what they have merited. I consoled them, and I respect their
wounds when I think, Madame, that without their devotion, your Majesty
would no longer be alive. Lucienne is yours, Madame, for was it not your
beneficence which gave it to me? All I possess has come to me through
the royal family. I have too much loyalty to forget it.”
But negro Zamor became a citizen like Mirabeau. It was Zamor who took to
Du Barry her lover’s head. It was Zamor who denounced her at the club of
the Jacobins. “The fealty (faith) of the black man is white,” said the
negro. But he learned how to make it red. Jeanne was imprisoned and
tried before Dumas.
“Your age?”
“Forty-two years.” She was really forty-seven. Coquetry even at the
guillotine.
The public accuser, Fouquier Tinville, was not disarmed by the sweet
voluptuousness still possessed by this pale and already fading beauty.
He accused her of treason against the nation. Could the defender of Du
Barry, who had also defended Marie Antoinette, find an eloquent word?
No; Fouquier Tinville was more eloquent than Chauveau-Lagarde. So
the mistress of Louis was condemned. It was eleven o’clock in the
evening--the hour for supper at Versailles when she was queen!
She passed the night in prayer and weeping, or rather in a frenzy of
fright. In the morning she said it was “too early to die”; she wished
to have a little time in order to make some disclosures. The Comité sent
someone to listen to her. What did she say? She revealed all that was
hidden away at Lucienne; she gave word by word an inventory of the
treasures she had concealed, forgetting nothing, for did not each word
give her a second of time?
“Have you finished?” said the inquisitor. “No,” said Jeanne. “I have not
mentioned a silver syringe concealed under the staircase!”
Meanwhile the horses of destiny stamped with impatience, and spectators
were knocking at the prison gate. When they put her, already half
dead, on the little cart, she bent her head and grew pale. The Du Barry
alone--a sinner without redemption.
She saw the people in the square of Louis XV; she struck her breast
three times and murmured: “It is my fault!” But this Christian
resignation abandoned her when she mounted the scaffold--there where the
statue of Louis XV had been--and she implored of the executioner:
“One moment, Mr. Executioner! One moment more!”
But the executioner was pitiless Sanson. It was block and the
knife--without the “one moment!”
Such was the last bed of the Du Barry. Had the almanac of Liège only
predicted to her that the one who would lead her to her bed for the
last time would not be a King but a citizen executioner, it might have
been--but why moralize?
Robert Arnot
_To the Reader_
_As the early part of Madame du Barry’s career had little to
differentiate it from the life of an ordinary courtezan, the editor has
deemed it best to confine the memoirs to the years in her life which
helped to make history._
_--Editor*_
* “Editor here means the author, who is assuming
the persona of the editor of the Comtesse’s memoirs.
CHAPTER I
Letter from Lebel--Visit from Lebel--Nothing conclusive--
Another visit from Lebel--Invitation to sup with the king--
Instructions of the comte Jean to the comtesse
One morning comte Jean entered my apartment, his face beaming with
delight.
“Read,” said he, giving me a letter, “read, Jeannette: victory is ours.
News from Morand. Lebel is coming to Paris, and will dine with us. Are
we alone?”
“No, there are two of your countrymen whom you invited yesterday.”
“I will write and put them off. Morand alone must dine with Lebel; he
ought to have a place at the feast which he furnishes with such good
music. Come, my dear girl, we touch the moment of importance, it is in
your beauty and power of pleasing that I place all my hopes. I think
I may rely on you; but, above all, do not forget that you are my
sister-in-law.”
“Brother-in-law,” said I, laughing, “it is not unnecessary that I should
know decidedly to which of family I am married? The custom in France is
not that a woman be the undivided property of three brothers.”
“That only happens in Venice,” replied the comte; “my brother Elie is
too young, you must be the wife of Guillaume, my second brother.”
“Very well; I am the comtesse Guillaume du Barry; that does famously
well; we like to know whom we are married to.”
After this conversation, comte Jean insisted on presiding at my
toilette. He acquitted himself of the task, with a most laughable
attention. During two good hours, at least, he tormented first
Henriette, and then the female hairdresser, for I had not yet followed
the mode, which began to be very general, of having my hair dressed by a
man. Comte Jean passed alternately from my dressing-room to the kitchen.
He knew Lebel was a gallant and a gourmand, and he was anxious to please
him in all senses at once.
At one o’clock I was under arms, and prepared to receive him on whom
my destiny depended. As soon as I reached the drawing-room, comte Jean
compelled me to submit to the test of a rigid examination.
His serious air amused me much as he gazed at me some time in solemn
silence. At length his forehead relaxed, a smile of satisfaction played
on his lips, and extending his arms to me, without venturing to touch
me, “You are charming, divine,” he said; “Lebel ought to go and hang
himself if he does not fall down at your knees.”
Soon afterwards the folding-doors were hastily opened, and a servant
announced M. Lebel, _premier de sa Majesté_, with M. Morand. The comte
went to meet the arrivals, and as I now saw Lebel for the first time, he
presented him to me formally.
“Sister, this is M. Lebel, _premier de sa Majesté _, who has done us the
honor to come and dine with us.”
“And he confers a real pleasure on us,” said I, looking smilingly on M.
Lebel. My look had its effect, for Lebel remained mute and motionless
from admiration at my person. At length he stammered out a few
incoherent words, which I imagined to be compliments. The comte watched
Lebel anxiously, and Morand began to rub his hands, saying:
“Well, sir, what think you of our celestial beauty?”
“She is worthy of a throne,” replied Lebel, bending his head before
me, and taking my hand, which he pressed respectfully to his lips. This
reply was, perhaps, inadvertently made, but I took it as a good augury.
“Yes,” added Lebel, “you are the most lovely creature I ever met, though
no one is more in the habit of seeing handsome females than myself.”
“And of causing them to be seen by others,” replied comte Jean.
This was an opening which was not followed up by Lebel. His first
enthusiasm having passed, he measured me from head to foot, as if he
would take an accurate description of my person.
For my part I began to support the looks of Lebel with more assurance.
He was a man of no particular “mark or likelihood,” but had made
his way. Living at Versailles had given him a certain air of easy
impertinence, but you could not discover anything distinguished in his
manners, nothing which concealed his humble extraction. The direction
of the _Parc aux Cerfs_ gave him much influence with the king, who found
the convenience of such a man, who was willing to take upon himself all
the disagreeable part of his clandestine amours. His duties placed
him in contact with the ministers, the lieutenant of police, and the
comptroller-general. The highest nobility sought his friendship with
avidity. They all had a wife, a sister, a daughter, whom they wished to
make the favorite sultana; and for this it was necessary to get the ear
of Lebel. Thus, under a libertine prince, the destinies of France were
at the mercy of a _valet de chambre_.
I should tell you, however, that I never had occasion but to speak well
of him, and that I have the utmost gratitude for all he did for me. The
attachment he testified on our first meeting has never been altered. He
gave me his protection as far as it was necessary for me, and when the
favor of the king had accorded to me a station, whence all the court
sought to hurl me, Lebel seconded me with all his power in my efforts
to preserve it. I will say, that it is to his vigilance that I owe the
overthrow of more than one conspiracy against me. He was a warm and
sincere friend, and not at all interested in the services he rendered.
He did a great deal of good, as well as harm, in private. I know poor
families whom he has assisted with his own purse, when he could obtain
nothing for them from the king, for Louis was only prodigal in his
pleasures.
However, we dined, and Lebel praised me incessantly to the very skies,
and that with so much warmth, that I was fearful at one time he would
fall in love with me himself, and would not resign me to another. Thank
heaven, Lebel was a faithful servant.
After dinner, when we left the table, Lebel paid me some compliments;
then pulling out his watch, he spoke of an appointment at the Marais,
and left without saying a word of seeing us again.
At this abrupt departure, comte Jean and I looked at each other with
astonishment. As for Morand, he was overjoyed.
“Well, comtesse,” said he, “behold the number of your slaves increased
by an illustrious adorer. You have made a conquest of M. Lebel, and I am
certain he has gone away deeply smitten.”
“I hope we shall see him again,” said comte Jean.
“Do you doubt it?”
“Assure him,” said I, “of the pleasure it will afford us to receive him
as he merits.”
Several persons entered, and M. Morand, profiting by the bustle which
their entrance occasioned, approached me, and said, in a low tone,
“You are in possession of his heart, will you charge me with any message
to him?”
“M. Morand,” was my reply, “what are you thinking of? A woman of my rank
throw herself at any person’s head?”
“No, certainly not; but you can send him a kind word, or some
affectionate token.”
“I could not think of it; M. Lebel appeared to me a most agreeable man,
and I shall be at all times delighted to see him.”
Morand asked nothing more than this, and there our conversation ended.
Two days elapsed without being marked by any event. Comte Jean had
spent them with much anxiety. He was absent, when, on the third morning,
Henriette came hastily into my room. “Madame,” she said, “the _valet de
chambre_ of the king is in the drawing-room, and inquires if you will
receive him.”
At this news I was surprised and vexed. M. Lebel took me unawares; my
toilette was not begun. I gave a hasty glance at my mirror, “Let M.
Lebel come in”; and M. Lebel, who was on the heels of my maid, entered
instantly. After having saluted me, he said,
“It is only you, Madame, whom one might thus surprise. Your beauty needs
no ornament, your charms are decoration sufficient.”
I replied to this compliment with (of course) much modesty, according
to custom. We entered into conversation, and I found that Lebel
really thought me the sister-in-law of comte Jean; and I remarked the
involuntary respect that attended even his familiarity. I left him in
his error, which was material to my interests. He talked to me some time
of my attractions, of the part which a female like myself might assume
in France. But fearing to compromise myself, I made no reply, but
preserved the reserve which my character imposed upon me. I am not
clever, my friend, I never could conduct an intrigue: I feared to speak
or do wrong; and whilst I kept a tranquil appearance, I was internally
agitated at the absence of comte Jean.
Fortune sent him to me. He was passing the street, when he saw at our
door a carriage with the royal livery. Lebel always used it when his
affairs did not demand a positive incognito. This equipage made him
suspect a visit from Lebel, and he came in opportunely to extricate me
from my embarrassment.
“Sir,” said Lebel to him, when he entered, “here is the lady whose
extreme modesty refuses to listen to what I dare not thus explain to
her.”
“Is it anything I may hear for her?” said the comte, with a smiling air.
“Yes, I am the ambassador of a mighty power: you are the minister
plenipotentiary of the lady, and with your leave, we will go into your
private room to discuss the articles of the secret treaty which I have
been charged to propose to you. What says madame?”
“I consent to anything that may come from such an ambassador.”
Comte Jean instantly led him into another room, and when they were
alone, Lebel said to him, “Do you know that your sister-in-law is a most
fascinating creature? She has occupied my thoughts since I have known
her, and in my enthusiasm I could not help speaking of her in a certain
quarter. So highly have I eulogized her, that his majesty desires an
interview with her, that he may judge with his own eyes if I am an
appreciator of beauty.”
At these words comte Jean felt a momentary agitation, but soon
recovering himself, he replied:
“I am exceedingly obliged to you, sir, for the favorable disposition
you have evinced towards the comtesse du Barry. She and I have as much
respect as love for his majesty; but my sister-in-law has not been
presented, and, consequently, I can scarcely see how she can be allowed
to pay her respects to his majesty.”
“Do not let that disturb you; it is not intended that she shall go
and partake of the magnificence of Versailles, but be admitted to
an intimacy much more flattering. Would you refuse to grant him that
pleasure?”
“It would be a crime of _lèse-majesté _,” said the comte Jean, laughing,
“and my family have too much respect for their monarch. We should not be
content with a fugitive favor.”
“You may expect everything from the charms of the comtesse; I am
certain they will have the utmost success; but for me, I can give you no
guarantee. You must run the chance.”
“Your protection, however, is the only thing which encourages my
sister-in-law in this affair. But tell me when is this meeting to take
place?”
“Instantly. The king is impatient to see the comtesse and I have
promised that she will sup with him to-morrow evening in my apartment at
Versailles.”
“How is she to be introduced to the king?”
“I am to entertain four of my friends.”
“Who are they?”
“‘First, the baron de Gonesse.”
“Who is he?”
“The king himself.”
“Well, who next?”
“The duc de Richelieu.”
“Who else?”
“The marquis de Chauvelin.”
“Well?”
“The duc de la Vauguyon.”
“What, the devotee?”
“The hypocrite. But never mind: the main point is, that you must not
appear to recognize the king. Instruct your sister-in-law to this
effect.”
“Certainly; if she must sin, she had better do so with some reason.”
While these gentlemen were thus disposing of me, what was I doing?
Alone, in my room, I waited the result of their conference with mortal
impatience. The character I had to play was a superb one, and at the
moment was about to enter on the stage, I felt all the difficulties
of my part. I feared I should not succeed, but fail amid the insulting
hisses of the Versailles party.
My fears at once disappeared, and then I pictured myself sitting on
a throne, magnificently attired; my imagination wandered in all the
enchantments of greatness;--then, as if from remorse, I recalled my past
life. The former lover of Nicholas blushed before the future mistress of
Louis XV. A thousand different reflections crowded upon me, and mingled
in my brain. If to live is to think, I lived a whole age in one quarter
of an hour. At length I heard some doors open, a carriage rolled away,
and comte Jean entered my chamber.
“Victory!” cried he, embracing me with transport. “Victory! my dear
Jeanne, to-morrow you sup with the king.”
On this information I turned pale, my strength forsook me, and I was
compelled to sit down, or rather to fall into a chair; for, according
to Jean Jacques Rousseau, my legs shook under me (_flageolaient_). This,
however, was the only movement of weakness which I betrayed. When I
recovered a little, the comte Jean told me the conversation he had had
with Lebel. I joked about the title of baron de Gonesse, and I promised
to treat the king as if ignorant of his incognito. One thing only made
me uneasy, and that was supping with the duc de Richelieu, who had
seen me before at madame de Lagarde’s; but the idea that he would not
remember me gave me renewed courage.
On so important an occasion, comte Jean did not forget to repeat his
instructions over again. These are nearly his words, for I think I
learnt them by heart.
“Remember that it is on your first interview that your safety depends.
Let him learn, through you, those utter tendernesses which have been
sought for him in vain heretofore. He is like the monarch of old, who
was willing to pay the half of his crown for an unknown pleasure. Lebel
is wearied in seeking every week for new fruit. He is quite disposed
to serve you, and will second you in the best manner. You are about
to become the centre of attraction to all courtiers, and noble
_courtisanes_. You must expect that they will endeavor to cry you down,
because you will have carried off from them a gem to which every family
has its pretensions. You must at first stand firmly before the storm,
but afterward you will find all enlist themselves under your banner, who
have no wife, sister, nor daughter; that is, all who have no mistress to
offer to the king. You must attach these to you by place and favor: they
must be first thought of, and then you must think of yourself and me, my
dear girl.”
“All this is well enough,” I replied, “but as yet I am nothing.”
“_Morbleu_! to-morrow you will be everything,” cried comte Jean, with
his determined energy. “But we must think about this morrow. Make haste,
noble comtesse; go to all the milliners, seek what is elegant rather
than what is rich. Be as lovely, pleasing, and gay as possible; this is
the main point, and God will do all the rest.”
He pronounced this blasphemy in a laughing tone, and I confess I could
not help joining in the laugh, and then hastened to comply with his
directions.
CHAPTER II
A slight preface--Arrival at Versailles--_“La toilette”_--
Portrait of the king--The duc de Richelieu--The marquis de
Chauvelin--The duc de la Vauguyon-Supper with the king--The
first night--The following day--The curiosity of comte Jean--
Presents from the king--How disposed of
The chances against our succeeding in our enterprise were at least a
thousand to one. The sea upon which, trusting to the favorable influence
of my leading star, we were about to venture, was filled with rocks and
shoals which threatened the poor mariner who should direct his bark near
them. In the first place, I had to dread my obscure birth, as well as
the manner in which my life had been passed; and still more had I to
fear the indifferent reputation of comte Jean. There was more than
sufficient in all this to disturb a head far stronger than I could
boast. However, thanks to my thoughtfulness, no troublesome thoughts
interfered to break my rest on the night preceding a day so important
to me, and I slept as tranquilly as though upon waking I had no other
occupation for my time than a walk on the boulevards, or a drive to the
Bois de Boulogne.
Comte Jean, however, had passed a very different night; for once, the
whisperings of ambition had overcome even his natural indifference and
carelessness, and tired of tossing upon a sleepless pillow, he arose
at the first break of day, reproached me for slumbering so long, and
allowed me neither peace nor rest till I joined him dressed for our
journey. At length, we set out according to our agreement with Lebel; I
was closely muffled up in my large _calèche_--the carriage rolled along
till we reached Versailles, where we had for the last month engaged a
lodging, which might be useful to us in all events; we alighted, and
after vainly seeking a few moments’ repose, proceeded on foot to Lebel,
in whose apartments we were to attire ourselves in a suitable manner.
“You are welcome,” said the comte, “pray consider yourself as at home.”
“I accept your augury,” replied I, “it would be amusing enough to find
that my young prophet had predicted rightly.”
“Well then,” said my conductor, laughing, “I recommend you to manage a
slip on the staircase, it would be taking possession after the manner of
the ancients.”
“No, no, I thank you,” answered I; “no falls if you please, they are not
propitious in France.”
Whilst we were thus speaking, we were crossing a long suite of chambers,
and reached the one at which we were expected. We knocked cautiously
at a door, which was opened to us with equal caution. Scarcely had we
entered, than Lebel came eagerly forward to receive us.
“Ah, madame!” cried he, “I began to fear you might not come, you have
been looked for with an impatience--”
“Which can hardly equal mine,” interrupted I; “for you were prepared
for your visitor, whilst I have yet to learn who is the friend that so
kindly desires to see me.”
“It is better it should be so,” added Lebel; “do not seek either to
guess or discover more, than that you will here meet with some cheerful
society, friends of mine, who will sup at my house, but with whom
circumstances prevent my sitting down at table.”
“How!” said I, with affected surprise, “not sup with us?”
“Even so,” replied Lebel; and then added with a laugh, “_He_ and I sit
down to supper together! What an idea! No! you will find that just as
the guests are about to sit down at table, I shall suddenly be called
out of the room, and shall only return at the close of the repast.”
All this was but of small import to me. Nevertheless, I affected to
regret the unavoidable absence of Lebel. In fact, I believe that the
first breath inspired at court is fraught with falsehood and deceit,
entirely destructive to every feeling of natural candor.
Lebel, with the most ceremonious gallantry, conducted me to a private
dressing-room, where I found several females waiting to assist me at
my toilet; I abandoned myself to their cares, which were, indeed, most
skilfully exercised in my behalf. They wrought wonders in my appearance,
bathing me after the Eastern fashion, adorning my hair and person, till
I issued from their hands blooming and beauteous as an houri.
When I returned to the room in which Lebel was expecting me, his
surprise was almost overpowering.
“You are, indeed,” exclaimed he, “the new sun which is to rise upon
Versailles.”
“Excellent!” cried I, laughing extravagantly, “but like the planet you
are pleased to compare me with, I must reserve my splendid rising till I
have obtained fresh powers from the aid of night.” *
* _Mais avant de me lever il faut que je me couche_, is the
witty reply in the original, but which it is impossible to
render fully and piquantly through the dilution of a
translation.---tr.
The comte entered, and joined his congratulations upon the beauty of my
appearance; all at once the hasty, sound of a bell, violently pulled,
was heard.
“The object of your attack approaches,” said Lebel to me, “it would be
as well to reconnoitre a little. Remember, not a word of his rank, no
cast down, timid looks at his sovereign power; no bending of knees, or
faltering of voice.”
The advice thus given was useless. Comte Jean, who bore the reputation
of, at least, a man of much cool impudence, was, I am certain, more
deficient than myself in courage upon the occasion, and I verily
believe, asked himself several times whether he dared appear before his
prince with one whom he was falsely asserting to be his sister-in-law.
However these thoughts might or might not have disturbed him, we
proceeded onwards till we reached the apartment where our invited
friends were expecting us; and here I will, with the reader’s
permission, digress awhile, in order to say a few introductory words
respecting the four personages with whom I had the honor of supping.
And first, Louis XVth, king of France (or as he was upon the present
occasion styled the baron de Gonesse), was one of those sentimental
egotists who believed he loved the whole world, his subjects, and his
family; while in reality, the sole engrossing object was _self_.
Gifted with many personal and intellectual endowments, which might have
disputed the palm with the most lively and engaging personages of the
court, he was yet devoured by ennui, and of this he was well aware,
but his mind was made up to meet this ennui, as one of the necessary
accompaniments of royalty. Devoid of taste in literary matters, he
despised all connected with the _belles-lettres_, and esteemed men only
in proportion to the number and richness of their armorial bearings. M.
de Voltaire ranked him beneath the lowest country-squire; and the very
mention of a man of letters was terrifying to his imagination from its
disturbing the current of his own ideas; he revelled in the plenitude
of power, yet felt dissatisfied with the mere title of king. He ardently
desired to signalize himself as the first general of the age, and
prevented from obtaining this (in his opinion) highest of honors,
entertained the utmost jealousy of Frederick II, and spoke with
undisguised spleen and ill-humor of the exploits of his brother of
Prussia.
The habit of commanding, and the prompt obedience he had ever met
with, had palled upon his mind, and impressed him with feelings of
indifference for all things which thus appeared so easily obtained;
and this satiety and consequent listlessness was by many construed into
melancholy of disposition. He disliked any appearance of opposition to
his will; not that he particularly resented the opposition itself, but
he knew his own weakness, and feared lest he should be compelled to make
a show of a firmness he was conscious of not possessing. For the clergy
he entertained the most superstitious veneration; and he feared God
because he had a still greater awe and dread of the devil. In the hands
of his confessor he confidently believed was lodged the absolute power
to confer on him unlimited license to commit any or every sin. He
greatly dreaded pamphlets, satires, epigrams, and the opinion of
posterity and yet his conduct was that of a man who scoffs at the
world’s judgment. This hasty sketch may with safety be taken as the
portrait of Louis XV, although much might be added; yet for the present
I will confine myself to the outline of my picture, which I shall have
frequent occasion to retouch in the course of my journal; it is my
intention to present him in all possible lights before the reader, and
I flatter myself I shall produce a perfect resemblance of the man I seek
to depict. Let us now proceed to consider the duc de Richelieu.
This nobleman, when in his seventy-second year, had preserved, even in
so advanced an age, all his former pretensions to notice; his success in
so many love affairs, a success which he never could have merited, had
rendered him celebrated; he was now a superannuated coxcomb, a wearisome
and clumsy butterfly; when however, he could be brought to exercise his
sense by remembering that he was no longer young, he became fascinating
beyond idea, from the finished ease and grace of his manner, and the
polished and piquant style of his discourse; still I speak of him as
a mere man of outward show, for the duke’s attainments were certainly
superficial, and he possessed more of the jargon of a man of letters
than the sound reality. Among other proofs of consummate ignorance he
was deficient even in orthography, and was fool enough to boast of
so disgraceful a fact, as though it conferred honor on him; perhaps,
indeed, he found that the easiest way of getting over the business.
He possessed a most ignoble turn of mind; all feelings of an elevated
nature were wanting within him. A bad son, an unkind husband, and a
worse father, he could scarcely be expected to become a steady friend.
All whom he feared, he hesitated not to trample under foot; and his
favorite maxim, which he has a hundred times repeated to me, was, that
“we should never hesitate to set our foot upon the necks of all those
who might in any way interfere with our projects--dead men [he would
further add] tell no tales!” There was one person, nevertheless, whom he
detested and flattered at the same time, and this was Voltaire, who well
repaid him in like coin. He called the duc de Richelieu, the tyrant of
the tennis-court* (_tripot_), and the duke returned the compliment
by invariably designating him “Scoundrel” and “Poetaster”; the only
difference was that the duc de Richelieu only treated the poet thus in
_sotto voce_, whilst M. de Voltaire sought not to conceal, either in his
writings or conversation, his candid opinion of the illustrious duke
and peer; and he might justly accuse the duke of ingratitude, for he,
no doubt, owed a considerable portion of the reputation he enjoyed as
a general, to the brilliant verses in which Voltaire had celebrated his
exploits.
*La Comedie Francaise--tr.
The marquis de Chauvelin was equally skilful as a warrior and
diplomatist. Gentle, graceful, and witty, he joined to the most extreme
versatility of talent the utmost simplicity of character. Once known,
he could not fail of being valued and esteemed, and the king entertained
the most lively regard for him. The noble minded marquis was far from
taking advantage of his sovereign’s favor, far from it; he neither
boasted of it, nor presumed upon it. This truly wonderful man died,
unhappily, too soon for me, for the king on whom he bestowed the sagest
counsels, and for foreign courts who knew and appreciated his worth.
I shall have occasion to speak of him hereafter; he had a brother, a
wicked little hump-backed creature, brave as Caesar, and a bitter enemy
to the Jesuits, whom he did not a little contribute to overturn in the
parliament of Paris, to which he belonged. The king detested this man
as much as he loved and cherished the brother, and that is saying not a
little.
The fourth guest was the duc de la Vauguyon, the really _perpetual_
tutor to the princes of France, for he had educated four successively.
He had displayed in the army both bravery and talent, but he was a
confirmed Jesuit, and conducted himself towards me upon the strictest
principles of his order. He will appear again on the scene hereafter,
but for the present I must lay him aside, whilst I return to my _entrée_
to the saloon, which I was about to enter.
Immediately after Lebel had conducted me into it, he was called away,
and quitted us. The king rose and approached me, saluting me with the
most admirable gallantry, and addressing to me the most encouraging and
gratifying words. His gentle, yet polished manners, fine countenance,
noble air, and the free and unrestrained glances of admiration which
sparkled in his eyes, communicated to me a feeling of support and
confidence which effectually reassured me, and roused me from the
involuntary emotion I had felt at the moment when I first appeared in
his presence. The king addressed a few words to comte Jean, and then
regarded him steadily, as tho’ he were trying to recall his features;
but his eye quickly turned on me again, upon whom he bestowed the most
intoxicating attention. Never was first sight more effective, and never
did a flame so rapidly increase as did the passion of my noble adorer.
Ere we had seated ourselves at the supper-table, he was ages gone in
love.
It would have provoked a smile from any countenance to perceive how
the respect and admiration with which the three courtiers regarded
me increased in proportion as the sentiments of the king towards me
betrayed themselves more and more. At first I had been considered as
a person of little or no importance. Soon, however, as their sagacious
eyes discovered the state of their master’s mind, the air of familiarity
with which they had regarded me gave place to a more studied politeness,
which, in its turn, as matters progressed, was superseded by the most
delicate attention; and ere we rose from table these gentlemen watched
my looks with the most eager anxiety to obtain the honor of my notice,
and hopes of future patronage from one whom they easily foresaw would be
fully qualified to bestow it. Comte Jean observed all that was passing
in profound silence. As for me, I talked and laughed with perfect
freedom from restraint, and my frank unaffected mirth appeared to
enchant the king; I knew that he was weary of the nice formalities of
courtly beauty, and desired to refresh his eyes and ears with something
less refined, and I gratified him to his heart’s wish. The conversation
became lively and animated, the merits of men of letters were discussed,
the French and Italian theatre passed in review before us, and finally,
we amused ourselves with anecdotes relative to the intrigues of court.
The baron de Gonesse related to us a circumstance which had just been
communicated to him by a county magistrate. I must here apprize the
reader that these administrators of justice were directed to collect all
the facts, scandalous, horrible, ridiculous, or piquant, which occurred
within their jurisdiction, in order that, being forwarded to the
king, they might aid in distracting his mind from the heavy cares of
government. Alas! how many strange and eventful things have I since
learned by similar channels.
The supper terminated, the king’s friends remained some time conversing
with us. Whilst these noblemen were busily celebrating my praises in
words sufficiently loud to reach the king’s ear, the baron de Gonesse,
standing by my side, was prosecuting his suit in the most ardent terms.
I received his overtures with becoming grace and modesty. As I have
before said, the exterior of the king was very prepossessing, and what
he wanted in youth, he made up by all the mature graces of dignified
royalty. At last Lebel appeared, and made me a sign to rise from my
seat. Up to this period nothing had arisen to betray the incognito of
the august monarch, and in order to keep up my pretended ignorance
of his grandeur, I quitted the apartment with little ceremony. Lebel
conducted me to an adjoining chamber, furnished with the utmost
magnificence. When we were seated, he turned to the comte Jean, who had
followed us, and said, “It rests with yourself whether you will return
to Paris, or remain at Versailles. But as for _milady_, who seems
much fatigued, she will, we trust, honor us by accepting a bed at the
castle.”
My self-created brother-in-law understood as well as I did the
significance of these words, and clearly read in their import how far
I had attracted the favor of the king. In order to have rendered the
impression more lasting, we could have wished that matters had been less
precipitated, but we were under a roof where everything yielded to the
caprices of its master, and resignation to his will became a matter
of course. And here I trust I may be pardoned if I pass over certain
details which could not, at this lapse of time, interest or amuse any
one; besides, altho’ I have found no difficulty in reciting former
events of my life, I find my pen more prudish and coy than were my ears
or mouth. All I shall say is, that the following day, as soon as I was
left alone in my chamber, Lebel entered, and prostrating himself at the
side of my bed,--
“Madame la comtesse,” said he, “is queen and mistress here. Not only has
your noble lover failed to communicate to me the usual signal of disgust
or dislike, but he has spoken of you to me in the most favorable light,
declaring, that, for the first time in his life, he felt the influence
of a true and sincere affection; for this reason he desired I would not
convey to you the contents of this casket, as originally intended.”
“And what does it contain?” asked I, with childish eagerness.
“Oh, a trifle unworthy of her who is now the mistress of his warmest
love; only a purse containing a hundred louis, and a suit of emeralds
worth a similar sum. He bade me say it might have served to recompense a
mere fleeting fancy, but that it is unworthy of your charms, nor can he
insult you by the offer of it.”
“Will he then see me again?” inquired I.
“To-morrow evening, if agreeable to you.”
“Only say that his wishes are mine.”
“Would you wish to see the comte Jean before you rise? He has been
waiting with the utmost impatience to see you since seven o’clock this
morning.”
“Let him come in.”
The comte entered, and I saw by the triumphant joy painted on his face,
that Lebel had told him of propitious state of things. He ran up to me
with outstretched arms, congratulating me upon my success, and putting
at the same time several questions, to which, either from mere womanly
caprice, or presuming upon my recent elevation to the character of prime
favorite, I refused to reply.
My folly drew down on me his severe anger, and several oaths escaped his
lips, which, echoed back by walls so unused to similar violence, struck
Lebel with terror. That faithful ally placed his hand over his mouth,
imploring of him to recollect himself, and the place he was in. As for
me, dreading some foolish burst of his impetuosity, I tried some of my
sweetest smiles, and inviting him to sit beside me, related to him and
Lebel those particulars which my pen refuses to retrace. Amongst other
things, I told them I had said to the king, that I had perfectly known
who he was all the preceding evening when supping with him, and that
he had the simplicity to say, “he was surprised I had not appeared more
embarrassed in his presence.”
Our conversation terminated, I wished to return to Paris, and I was,
without further hindrance, allowed to depart. Scarcely had I arrived
there an hour, than I received from his majesty a magnificent diamond
agraffe, worth at least 60,000 francs, and bank notes to the amount of
200,000 livres.
Comte Jean and myself were well nigh stupefied with astonishment at the
sight of such treasures; to us, who had never in our lives possessed
such sums, they appeared inexhaustible. My brother-in-law divided them
into two equal portions, one of which he put into his pocket, and the
other into my _escritoire_. With this arrangement I did not interfere;
nothing seemed to me more simple than that he should satisfy his need
out of my superfluity. I bestowed two thousand crowns upon Henriette,
and expended in the course of the day at least a quarter of my riches
in trifles, as unnecessary as useless; and all this without once
remembering that as I owed my present abundance to a momentary
inclination on the part of the king, so the turn of an hour, or a
fresh fancy on the part of my munificent adorer, might reduce me to the
unprovided state in which I had been so lately. That evening was passed
_tête-à-tête_ with comte Jean; he thought, as I did, that the foundation
of our treasure was firm as a rock, and he gave me many counsels for the
future which I promised to observe; for indeed it was to my own interest
to do so. Upon how many follies did we then debate, which, but a few
days afterwards we found practicable. The different ministers passed in
review before us; some we determined upon retaining, whilst others were
dismissed, and already I began in idea to act with sovereign power over
these illustrious personages, amongst whom I anticipated shortly playing
so important a part. “After all,” said I, “the world is but an amusing
theatre, and I see no reason why a pretty woman should not play a
principal part in it.”
CHAPTER III
The king’s message--Letter from the countess--A second
supper at Versailles--The duc d’Ayen--A short account of M.
de Fleury--The duc de Duras--Conversation with the king--The
next day--A visit from the duc de Richelieu--Visit from the
duc de la Vauguyon--Visit from comte Jean--Visit from the
king--A third supper--Favor
Early the following day I received a message from the king, accompanied
with a bouquet of flowers tied round with a string of diamonds. A short
letter was annexed to this splendid gift, which I would transcribe here,
had it not been taken from me with many others. My reply, which I wrote
upon the spur of the moment, was concise, and, as I preserved the rough
copy, under the impression of its being one day useful, I can give the
reader the exact words.
“The billet traced by your noble hands, renders me the happiest of
women. My joy is beyond description. Thanks, monsieur le Baron, for your
charming flowers. Alas! they will be faded and withered by to-morrow,
but not so fleeting and short-lived are the sentiments with which you
have inspired me. Believe me, the desire you express to see me again
is entirely mutual; and in the impatience with which you await our next
interview, I read but my own sentiments. The ardor with which you long
to embrace me, is fully equalled by the affection which leads me to
desire no gratification greater than that of passing my whole life in
your society. Adieu, monsieur le baron; you have forbidden my addressing
you as your rank and my respect would have me, I will therefore content
myself with assuring you of the ardent affection of the
“COMTESSE Du Barry.”
The signature I adopted was a bold piece of falsehood, but it was too
late to recede; besides, I was addressing myself in my letter, not to
the king, but to the baron de Gonesse; for Louis, by I know not what
unaccountable caprice, seemed to wish to preserve his incognito. I have
since learned that Francis I assumed the same name, altho’ upon a very
different occasion. Replying to a letter from Charles V, in which that
emperor had given himself a long string of high sounding titles, he
contented himself with simply signing his letter, “_François, baron de
Gonesse._” Louis XV was very fond of borrowed appellations. Unlike the
vanity so common to mankind, of seeking to set off their pretensions
by assumed titles, it is the pleasure of royalty to descend to a lower
grade in society when concealment becomes desirable, either from policy
or pleasure; and Louis sought in the familiarity in which a plain baron
might safely indulge, a relief from the ennui attendant upon the rigid
etiquette of a regal state. I had omitted in my letter to the baron,
to remind him that we were to meet that very evening, but that did not
prevent my repairing to Versailles punctually at the appointed hour. I
was conducted into the same apartment as before, where I found the same
females who had then assisted at my toilette again prepared to lend
their aid; and from this moment I had a regular establishment of
attendants appointed for my use.
The moment the king was informed of my arrival, unable to restrain his
impatience, he hastened to me to assist at my dressing table, and he
continued standing beside me so long as the operation lasted; I felt
greatly embarrassed, not knowing whether I durst take the liberty of
requesting him to be seated. However, my silence on the subject was
greatly admired, and ascribed to my perfect acquaintance with polished
life, when in reality it originated from mere timidity. My triumph was
complete; the monarch smiled at and admired every word as it fell from
my lips, kissed my hands, and played with the curls of my long hair,
sportively twisting his fingers amidst my flowing ringlets with all
the vivacity of a lover of twenty. The company upon this evening was
different from that of the former occasion, consisting of the duc de
Duras, first gentleman of the bedchamber, and the duc d’Ayen, who had
the reputation of being a great wit; however, in my opinion, he was
much more deserving the character of a real fiend; his very breath
was poisonous, and his touch venomous as the bite of an adder. I well
remember what M. de Fleury said of him to the king in my presence.
“Sire,” said he, “the thing I most dread in the world next to a bite
from M. d’Ayen, is the bite of a mad dog.” For my own part, I did not
in the end look upon him with less terror, and well he paid me for my
fears. Upon one occasion, when the king was speaking of me to him, he
said, “I am well aware that I succeed St. Foix.”
“Yes, sire”; replied the duke, “in the same manner as your majesty
succeeds Pharamond!”
I never forgave him those words, dictated by a fiendish malice. However,
upon the evening of my first introduction to him, he behaved to me with
the most marked politeness. I was then an object of no consequence to
his interests, and his vision had not yet revealed to him the height I
was destined to attain. He looked upon me but as one of those meteors
which sparkled and shone in the castle at Versailles for twenty-four
hours, and sank to rise no more.
The duc de Duras was not an ill-disposed person, but inconceivably
stupid; indeed, wit was by no means a family inheritance. Both father
and son, good sort of people in other respects, were for ever saying or
doing some good thing in support of their reputation for stupidity at
court. One day the king quite jokingly inquired of the duc de Duras,
what was done with the old moons. “Upon my word, sire,” replied he,
“I can give you no idea, never having seen, but with your majesty’s
permission, I will endeavor to learn from M. de Cassini*!” To such a
pitch did the poor man’s simplicity extend. Both father and son were
nominated to attend the king of Denmark, when on his road to visit
France. The king observed to a person who repeated it to me: “The French
are generally styled a clever, witty nation; I cannot say I should ever
have been able to discover it, had I been tempted to form my opinion
from the specimen they have sent me.”
*The royal astronomer--Gutenberg ed.
As far as I am concerned, after saying so many unfavorable things of the
Messrs. de Duras, I must do them the justice to say, that their conduct
towards me was everything that could be desired. I was always glad to
see them; it gave my own imagination a sort of sedative dose to converse
with these two simple-minded beings, whose interests I was always ready
to promote by every means in my power, and I trust the memory of what I
have done will be long remembered by the noble house of Duras.
This supper did not pass off so gaily as the former one. The duc de
Duras spoke as little as possible, in the dread of making some unlucky
speech, and the duc d’Ayen sat devouring the spleen he could not
give vent to, and meditating fresh objects upon whom to exercise his
malignity; he vainly endeavored to lead me on to make some ridiculous
observation, but without success; happily for him, the king did not
perceive his aim. My royal lover was indeed so entirely engrossed by me,
that he lost all the duke’s manoeuvres; his transports appeared too much
for his senses to sustain, and he vowed that I should never quit him
more, but remain to be elevated by his power to the first place at
court. At the monarch’s sign, the two guests withdrew.
When the duc d’Ayen quitted the room, “That nobleman is by no means to
my taste,” said I to the king, “he has the air of a spy, who wishes me
no good.”
“Do you really think so, my lovely comtesse?”
“I am certain of it; and I already shudder at the bare anticipation of
an enemy having access to your majesty’s ear.”
“Reassure yourself,” said the king, with the utmost tenderness, “in me
you have a sure defender, who will never forsake you; look upon me from
this minute as your natural protector, and woe to him on whose head your
displeasure shall fall.”
After this conversation the king and myself retired to rest, and when he
quitted me in the morning, he entreated me not to return to Paris, but
to give him my company for a whole week. Lebel made his appearance to
beg I would consider myself mistress of the apartments I occupied, and
that he had received orders to provide me with an establishment upon the
most handsome scale.
That very day Henriette, whom I had sent for, and instituted as my head
waiting-woman, informed me, that an old gentleman, attired as tho’ for a
grand gala, but who refused to send in his name, begged to be permitted
to pay his respects. I bade her admit him; it was the duc de Richelieu.
“Madame la comtesse,” said he, bowing low, “I come to complain of your
want of condescension; unless, indeed, your memory has been at fault.
Was it possible that when I had the honor of supping with you the other
night, you did not recollect your former old friend?”
“If, indeed, my forgetfulness were a fault, monsieur le maréchal, it
was one in which you bore an equal share; you were not more forward than
myself in displaying marks of recognition.”
“That arose only from the dazzling increase of your beauty. You were but
a nymph when last my eyes had beheld you, and now you are matured into a
goddess.”
The duke then made some slight allusion to the family of madame Lagarde,
but guessing with his admirable tact, that such reminiscences could not
be particularly agreeable to me, he dexterously turned the conversation,
by requesting permission to present to me his nephew, the duc
d’Aiguillon, that he might leave a worthy substitute and champion near
the king when state affairs called him into Gascony; he craved my kind
offices to obtain the intimate acquaintance of comte Jean. They
were subsequently at daggers drawn with each other, but this haughty
overbearing lord conducted himself at first with the most abject
servility. The third favor he had to solicit was that I would name him
to the king as frequently as opportunities occurred to form one of our
supper parties. All this I engaged to do, nor indeed could I refuse
after the violent protestations of friendship he made me.
“You will, ere long,” said he, “see the whole court at your feet, but
beware of considering them all as your friends; have a care, above all,
of the duchesse de Grammont. She has been long endeavoring to obtain the
king’s affections, and she will see with hatred and fury another more
worthy engrossing the place she has so vainly contended for; she and
her impertinent brother will call in the aid of the devil himself to
dispossess you of your elevated seat; you are lost if you do not twist
both their necks.”
“How, monsieur le maréchal, shall I mark my career by a murder?”
“You take me too literally; I only mean that in your place I would not
be at the trouble of keeping any terms with them.”
“Ah, monsieur le duc, I understand you now; yet it seems a bad augury to
have to begin my reign by cabals and intrigues.”
“Alas! my fair comtesse, you are too good, too guileless for a court
life; between ourselves we are all hypocrites more or less; mistrust
every one, even those make the finest protestations.”
“In that case the first object of my suspicion would be my old and
esteemed friend the maréchal de Richelieu.”
“Ah, madame! this is not fair usage, thus to turn my weapons against
myself, and to fight me with my own arms.”
Upon this the duke quitted me, and scarcely had he left the room, when
the duc la Vauguyon entered. This gentleman offered me no advice; he
contented himself by styling the Jesuits his “very good friends,” and
continually turning the conversation upon their merits. I allowed him
to express his attachment, without interruption, for these disagreeable
men, whom I determined in my own mind to have nothing to do with,
recollecting all I had heard of their dislike to our sex. After an hour
passed in amusing talk, the duc de la Vauguyon retired, well pleased
with his visit, and his place was immediately supplied by comte Jean,
to whom I communicated all that had passed between my late visitors and
myself.
“For heaven’s sake,” said he, “let us not be the dupes of these great
lords; before we range ourselves under the banners of either of them let
us secure our own footing; let us wait till you are presented.”
“But, my good friend, I must be a married lady to obtain that honor.”
“And so you will be shortly, do not be uneasy about that. I have written
to my brother William to set out without delay for Paris. Your swain
will be easily induced to marry you. What do you think of that?”
I gave comte Jean to comprehend, by signs, that I left my destiny in his
hands, and he kissed my hands and withdrew. The king managed to steal a
few minutes to converse with me.
“You did not intrust me, my sweet friend,” said he, “with the
circumstance of your having formerly known the duc de Richelieu; less
reserved on the subject than you were, he told me he had seen you at the
house of madame Lagarde, who considered you one of her dearest friends.”
“Sire,” replied I, “I was too much occupied with your majesty, to think
of any other person in the world.”
My answer delighted him, he looked at me in the most gracious manner.
“You would almost persuade me that you love me,” said he, smiling.
“Indeed, your majesty,” said I, “I only pray that you desire the
continuance of my affection.”
“In that case,” replied he, kissing my hand with fervor, “you do but
partake of my tenderness for you.”
These words flattered my vanity, and here I must declare that if I never
felt for the king that violent attachment which is termed love, I ever
entertained for him the warmest esteem. He was so attentive, so kind to
me, that I must have been a monster of ingratitude could I have looked
upon him with indifference.
Our supper on this night was again lively as the first had been. The
duc de Richelieu entertained us with several amusing anecdotes; not that
they contained any thing very piquant, but the duke related them well,
and we were all in the humor to be pleased, and laughed heartily at
what he said. Comte Jean, whose eye constantly followed me, appeared
perfectly satisfied with all I said or did. As for the king, he seemed
enchanted with me, and seemed wholly occupied in watching my looks, that
he might anticipate my wants. After supper, in the _tête-à-tête_
which followed, he explained himself in terms which left me no doubt how
securely my empire over him was established. Had he been less explicit
on the subject, the flattering marks of favor, and the adulatory
compliments I received from all on the following day, would well have
assured me of it. I was no longer an obscure and friendless individual,
but the beloved mistress of the king; I was, to use the expression of
Lebel, a new sun which had arisen to illumine horizon of Versailles.
I could no longer doubt my power when I saw noble personages present
themselves to solicit the most servile employments about my person.
Amongst others, I might instance a certain lady de St. Benoit, who
continued first lady of my chamber, during the whole time of my
regency;--my justly-valued Henriette being contented to take the second
place of honor.
CHAPTER IV
The duc d’Aiguillon--The duc de Fronsac--The duchesse de
Grammont--The meeting--Sharp words on both sides--The duc de
Choiseul--Mesdames d’Aiguillon--Letter from the duc
d’Aiguillon--Reply of madame du Barry--Mademoiselle Guimard--
The prince de Soubise--Explanation--The Rohans--Madame de
Marsan--Court friendships
The duc de Richelieu, who was in haste to go to Guienne, lost no time in
presenting to me the duc d’Aiguillon. He was not young, but handsome and
well made, with much amiability and great courage. A sincere friend, no
consideration could weaken his regard; an adversary to be dreaded, no
obstacle could repress his boldness. His enemies--and amongst them
he included the whole magistracy--his enemies, I say, have used him
shamefully, but he treated them too ill for them to be believed in
any thing they say of him. If he were ambitious, he had the excuse of
superior merit, and if he showed himself too severe in one particular,
it proceeded from an energy of mind which did not allow him to have more
pity for others than they had for him. Do not, my friend, think that the
attachment I had for him can transport me beyond just limits. Since he
is in his grave, my illusions, if I had any, have dissipated. I only
give to my deceased friends the tribute due to them--truth and tears.
But really, without thinking of it, I am attributing to myself these
virtues without necessity, forgetting that you are not one of those who
would fain render me as black as possible in the eyes of posterity.
In proportion as the first sight of the uncle had prejudiced me against
him, so much more did it propitiate me towards the nephew. I saw in him
a generous heart, and a genius capable of lofty actions which you would
vainly have sought for in the maréchal de Richelieu. No doubt at the
beginning of our _liaison_ the duc d’Aiguillon only saw in me a woman
who could be useful to his projects and plans; but soon his heart joined
the alliance, and a devotion of calculation was succeeded by a vehement
passion, of which I was justly proud, as it subdued to my chains the
most accomplished of courtiers.
Our first interview was lively. The maréchal and he supported the
conversation with much gaiety. M. de Richelieu, as I have already told
you, had neither wit nor information, but possessed that ease of the
first circles, those manners of high breeding, those courtly graces,
which often surpass wit and information.
“My nephew,” said he to the duke, “madame can do much for us, but we
must first do something for her. Without support, without friends, she
will be lost at Versailles; let us be her partisans if she will allow
it, and let her youth have the benefit of our experience.”
The tone in which the duc d’Aiguillon replied delighted me. He said he
was but too happy to serve me, and begged me to rely on him as I would
on myself.
“But,” he continued, “but we have to struggle with a powerful party. The
duchesse de Grammont and her brother are not the persons to give up the
field without striking a blow. But, madame, by the assistance of your
happy and lovely star, I will enter the lists with pleasure, and if a
glance of your eyes will recompense a conqueror, I shall be he.”
“Oh,” exclaimed the duke, “my nephew’s a second Amadis in gallantry, and
of undaunted courage. You will be satisfied with him, madame, much more
than with my son, who only resembles the family in his defects.”
The duc de Fronsac was justly hated by his father; he was what is called
a decided scamp, without one redeeming point or virtue. Dissipated
without agreeableness, a courtier without address, a soldier without
courage, he thoroughly deserved his bad reputation. He was not hated,
because hatred implies a species of honor, but he was universally
despised. His father hated him; he hated his father. The reciprocity was
edifying. I have often seen the duc de Fronsac, and always with disgust.
He had incurred the extremity of punishment; when trying to carry off a
butcher’s daughter, he rendered himself guilty of the triple crimes of
arson, rape, and robbery. This was the most splendid deed of his life,
at least his father said so, the only one in which he had shown--guess
what for, my friend, I will not pen the cynical word made use of by his
father. It must be confessed that we sometimes kept very bad company at
Versailles. The king, who abhorred degrading actions, did not like
the duc de Fronsac, but was full of kindly feeling towards the duc
d’Aiguillon. The latter experienced the extent of his favor in his
long and obstinate struggle with the parliament of Bretagne. It must be
owned, that if he gained the victory at court, he decidedly lost it in
the city, and I was publicly insulted on this account in the most brutal
manner. However, the friendship which his first interview inspired me
with, I have always preserved unaltered.
The week glided away, and each day my fortune seemed more fully assured.
The love of the king increased, he heaped presents on me perpetually,
and seemed to think he never could do enough for me. The bounties of
Louis XV were known, and instantly aroused against me the two enemies
with whom I had been threatened--the duc de Choiseul and the duchesse de
Grammont, his sister. I must say, however, that, at first, the brother
contented himself with despising me, but the duchesse was furious; I had
offended her feminine self-love, and she could not forgive me. I have
told you that she obtained possession of the king by stratagem. This is
fact. She was in a place of concealment during a regal debauch, and when
Louis left the table, with his head heated by wine, she awaited him in
his bed to commit a sort of violence on him. What curious ambition! As
soon as this noble lady learned my position, she was desirous of knowing
who I was, and I have been told since all the measures she took to learn
this. She did not confine her search to the circle of Versailles, but
hastened to prosecute her inquiries in Paris with M. de Sartines. The
lieutenant of police not suspecting the favor that awaited me, as well
as that which I already enjoyed, and on the other hand persuaded of that
of the Choiseul family, set all his bloodhounds on my traces. They did
not fail to bring him back a thousand horrible tales about me, with
which he gratified the duchesse, who, thinking thereby to do me a severe
injury, spread in the château a multitude of prejudicial tales against
me, hoping that they would reach the ears of the king and disgust him
with his amour. It was at this juncture that appeared in the “_Nouvelles
a la Main_” those infamous articles, collected in what they call the
Collection of Bachaumont. From the same source proceeded the songs _à la
Bourbonnaise_ which filled Paris, and were sung about everywhere. These
scandals produced no other effect than increasing the attachment which
the king had for me, and to diminish that which he felt for the duc de
Choiseul.
Passion never reasons; if it had common sense, it would perceive that it
cannot disgust a lover by vilifying his mistress, but, on the contrary,
interests his self-love in supporting her. Thus all these intrigues
scathed me not; I did not mention to my counsellor comte Jean an insult
which I met with in the park at Versailles from madame de Grammont. I
did not tell it to the king, not wishing to create any disturbance
at court. I avenged myself by myself, and think I conducted myself
remarkably well in this adventure, which was as follows:
I was walking in the garden with Henriette, who had given me her arm;
it was early in the morning, and the walks appeared solitary. We walked
towards towards the side of the Ile d’Amour, when we heard the steps of
two persons who came behind us. Henriette turned her head and then said
to me, “Here are mesdames de Brionne and de Grammont.” I knew the latter
but very slightly, and the former not at all. Certainly she could not
have been there by chance; they knew I should be there, and wished to
see me closely. Not suspecting what was to follow, I was delighted at
the rencontre. They passed us with head erect, haughty air; looked at
me with a disdainful stare, laughed rudely and walked away. Altho’ such
behavior offended me, it did not put me out of humor; I thought it very
natural for madame de Grammont to be irritated against me. Henriette had
less magnanimity. She repeated so often how impertinent it was thus to
insult a female honored by the bounties of the king, and so far excited
my feelings, that instead of returning as prudence suggested, I followed
the steps of these ladies. I did not proceed far before I rejoined
them; they were seated on a bench, awaiting my arrival as it appeared.
I passed close to them, and at that moment the duchesse de Grammont,
raising her voice, said,
“It must be a profitable business to sleep with every body.”
I was excessively nettled, and instantly retorted, “At least I cannot
be accused of making a forcible entry into any person’s bed.” The arrow
went to the mark and penetrated deeply. The whole countenance of the
duchesse turned pale, except her lips, which became blue. She would have
said something foolish, but madame de Brionne, more cool because touched
less nearly, placed her hand over her companion’s mouth. I in my turn
walked away with Henriette, laughing till tears came into my eyes at
this pleasing victory.
The duchesse de Grammont, who had no further inclination to laugh, told
the whole to her brother. He, who loved her excessively, too much so
perhaps, reprimanded her, nevertheless, and pointed out to her the
disadvantage in an open struggle with me. Madame de Brionne was enjoined
to secrecy, but that did not prevent her from confiding the affair to
the dowager duchesse d’Aiguillon.
This latter was a lady of most superior merit, uniting to much wit more
solid acquirements. She spoke English like a native. Her death, which
happened in 1772, was a great misfortune to her son, to whom she
gave the most excellent counsel. She told my adventure to her
daughter-in-law, who, excessively ambitious, saw, without any pain,
the increasing attachment of her husband for me. I must tell you, in a
parenthesis, that I always lived on the best terms with her, and that,
in my disgrace, her friendship did not weaken. I must do her this
justice. All my _faithful friends_ have not been equally faithful
towards me.
These two ladies knowing this occurrence, the duc d’Aiguillon was not
long kept in ignorance that something had happened. He came in haste to
see me, and inquired what it was. But he asked in vain, I would not tell
him. My secrecy hurt him, and on his return home he wrote to me. As
I have great pleasure in telling you all that recalls this amiable
gentleman to my mind, I will transcribe his letter, which will give you
an opportunity of judging of the turn of his mind.
_I am very unhappy, madame. I had flattered myself with having obtained
your confidence, but the obstinate silence which you have kept with
me has cruelly informed me of my mistake. Allow the deep interest with
which you have inspired me to offer a suggestion. You know nothing of
forms, you are unacquainted with our usages: you require a friend who
shall direct and counsel you. Why should you not select a man entirely
devoted to you, and as equally so to the king, the king whose affections
you possess--and who could refuse them to you? I pause. Nothing is more
dangerous than to use a pen where we have a heart overflowing like mine.
Be more gracious towards me, I ask it of you in charity, and take no
pleasure in driving me to twofold desperation. Adieu, madame, etc._
“Signed, the Duc D’A.”
I read and read again this epistle: it delighted me from beginning to
end. I found in it a depth of passion which did not displease me: I
perfectly comprehended the obscurity of the latter phrase. I needed
a sort of mentor superior to comte Jean, and I preferred the duc
d’Aiguillon to any other, because he pleased me. This feeling decided
me, and I replied to him in these terms:--
“You are wrong, monsieur, to be annoyed, and to think that I am not
disposed to grant you my confidence. It seems to me that I cannot place
myself in better hands. However, we do not know each other well enough
for me to repose in you at once: see me frequently, and then, with the
habit of being in your company, I will allow myself to glide quietly
into that state of confidence which you desire. Yes, I am indeed a
stranger to all that passes around me; my only support is the protection
with which the king honors me. That is all-powerful, but I will not
employ it unseasonably or improperly. I know that I need the counsels
of an honorable, prudent, and well-informed man. I accept, therefore, of
yours; I even ask them from you, if your friendship go along with them.
Adieu, monsieur. My regards are due to your uncle, the maréchal, the
first time you write to him.”
This letter filled the duc d’Aiguillon with joy. Some days afterwards,
the prince de Soubise, who also wished to give me his advice, did not
attain the same success. It must be owned, that, for a man of the world,
he went about it in a very clumsy way. He committed the extreme error of
selecting mademoiselle Guimard as mediatrix between himself and me. This
lady came to me on the strength of our former acquaintance; she had so
little sense as not to perceive the immense distance between us which
a few days had caused, and that the opera-dancer kept by the prince de
Soubise could have no relation with the favorite of the king of France.
I endeavored, in vain, to make her perceive it, without mortifying her
too much. She always called me her dear friend, and fairly slaughtered
me with saying that _her_ prince would protect me. It was singular
for her to speak thus to me; to me from whom _her_ prince solicited
protection. She did not confine herself to this, she even insinuated to
me that I should be a gainer in some way. I laughed outright at this,
and said to the _valet de chambre_, who was stationed at the door, “Call
mademoiselle’s servants.” This annoyed her excessively; all the muscles
of her face were contracted with rage; but she restrained her wrath,
saluted me with an assumed respect, and went away, after having so
worthily acquitted herself of her foolish embassy.
She had quitted me for an hour, when I received a letter from him who
had sent her. The prince de Soubise begged me to grant him an interview,
in which he could enter into an explanation. I replied that I would
receive him, and he came the same day.
“I am much pained, madame,” said he, on entering, “that mademoiselle
Guimard has communicated with so little address what I wished to say to
you.”
“Prince, I think you would have done better to have been the bearer of
your own message. You know my station here, and would not have ridiculed
me as she has done.”
M. de Soubise, much puzzled to know what she had said, asked me the
question.
“Why,” I replied, “she said, that if I would follow your counsels, you
would pay me for my condescension.”
“Ah! madame,” he exclaimed, “she has completely murdered me. I only
charged her to offer my services to you, and throw myself at your feet,
as I do now.”
“Rise, prince, I do not accuse you of such folly, and promise not to
mention it: it is necessary, however, that you should know I have but
one part to play here, that of pleasing the king. Any other character
will not suit me. Honor me with your friendship, and accept mine in
return. I cannot, must not, have any other union with you.”
Thus terminated this interview; it did not suit me to give the prince
de Soubise any hopes. He and all the Rohans would have lived on it; they
would have turned my confidence to their gain, and as they were for the
most part sharpers, or something akin to it, my name would soon have
been mixed up with some dirty transaction. His family was a hydra of
avarice, and would alone have swallowed up all the wealth of France. If
the king had taken one of the Rohan family for his mistress, I believe
that the finance department would not have sufficed for one year’s
expenditure of this prodigal family. I had no objection to the prince de
Soubise coming to supper with me, but I did not feel myself disposed to
give him any control over my mind. I should have been ill-guided by a
man who had no government of himself.
If M, de Soubise did not depart satisfied, madame de Marsan, his
relative, to whom he related the bad success of his attempt, was not
more so. She was a woman to have governed a kingdom, had she been
allowed to do so. There was in her woman’s head a capacity superior to
that of all the men of her family. She had a great deal of ambition, and
all her actions were the results of a premeditated plan. She would have
ruled the king, the princes, the princesses, favorites, mistresses, the
court, the city, the parliaments, and the army! Nothing would have been
impossible to her; she was adequate to any thing. Circumstances did not
give her the opportunity of displaying her genius. With great talents
and keen perception, she was reduced to the government of her own family
alone; that was but a trifling matter! In spite of her discontent,
madame de Marsan preserved a sort of neutrality towards me. She allowed
all sorts of ill to be spoken of me without ever repressing a word.
She was then mute and motionless. She saw me torn to pieces without
any emotion. However, when we were together she tried to cajole me in a
thousand ways, all the time detesting me in her heart; and I, who could
scarcely endure the sight of her, paid her a like number of little
attentions. Thus surrounded by hypocrites, I became one myself. We learn
to howl in the society of wolves.
CHAPTER V
The duc de la Vauguyon and the comtesse du Barry--The
marquis de Chauvelin and the comtesse--M. de Montbarrey and
the comtesse--Intrigues--Lebel--Arrival of the du Barry
family--The comte d’Hargicourt--The demoiselles du Barry--
Marriage of the comtesse--The marquis de Bonrepos--
Correspondences--The broken glass
The prince de Soubise was not the only person who wished to act in the
capacity of mentor to me. M. the duc de la Vauguyon attempted also to
be the guide of my youth. This nobleman was too much of a Jesuit not to
have a nose of prodigiously fine scent. He perceived that the wind was
in my favor, and approached me in consequence. I have mentioned to
you his first visit, and he made me a second a few days afterwards.
He appeared very affable, very conciliating, and insisted particularly
several times, and that without any apparent motive, that the king,
not being now engaged in the ties of wedlock, he should choose some
agreeable companion, and assuredly could not do better than select
me. The day after this visit, early in the morning, the duke sent me a
splendid bouquet, a homage which he afterwards repeated, and then called
on me a third time.
During this visit after a conversation on the embarrassments of an
introduction at Versailles, he proposed that I should avoid them.
“You cannot conceal from yourself,” he said, “how powerful will be the
cabal against you; and, without including the Choiseuls, you will have
especially to fear the pious party, who will only see in your intimacy
with the king, allow me to say, a crying scandal, and one not profitable
for religion.”
“If the pious party unite with those who are not so to destroy me,” I
rejoined, laughing, “I shall have all France against me.”
“No; but perhaps all the château. But there is a way of averting the
storm. Attach yourself to the party of honest men who have been so
greatly calumniated--the Jesuits. Philosophy, supported by the duc de
Choiseul, has repressed them; but the high clergy and the _mesdames
royales_ are attached strongly to them, and you would interest them in
your fortune by favoring these worthy fathers.”
“What! monsieur le duc,” cried I, “will _messeigneurs_ the clergy of
France, and _mesdames royales_ and their suite be favorable to me, if I
use my influence with the king in espousing the cause of the society of
Jesus?”
“Certainly, madame, and I am authorized to promise you. I give you my
word for this. Endeavor to re-establish the order, and there will not be
one of us but will be zealous in supporting you.”
“I certainly am desirous of pleasing your friends; but I can see that,
from the first moment of my appearance at court, I shall be at open war
with the Choiseuls and the parliaments.”
“What matters it? I confess that the victory will not be easy at first,
but there is no need to exaggerate the difficulties. It is true that the
king has esteem for the duc de Choiseul, but he has much affection for
you, which avails much more.
“As for the parliaments, he hates them, and for many years has been
desirous of ridding himself of them entirely, and he will effect this by
the help of God and your interference.”
“This will be hard work for one so weak as I am.”
“Oh, you are sufficiently powerful, I assure you. Only confide in me,
the intermediary between you and my friends, let me guide you, and I
will steer to the right port. What do you think of this, madame?”
“Oh! monsieur le duc, it is not at a moment that we can give a positive
reply to such grave matters. I content myself in assuring you, that I
have for you as much confidence as respect, and should be very happy to
obtain your protection.”
“My protection! Oh, heaven, madame, you are jesting. It is I who should
be honored by your friendship.”
“It is yours; but as yet I am nothing at court, and can do nothing there
until I have been presented. It is for my speedy presentation that my
friends should labor now.”
“We will not fail, madame; and if you will allow me to come from time to
time to converse with you, we can take our measures.”
“Your visits will always be agreeable.”
Such was the conversation which I had with the duc de la Vauguyon. I
have given it somewhat at length, because it was the preface to a deep
intrigue which made a vast noise. I think I extricated myself very
well from the net in which the duke sought to catch me. I knew that his
situation at Versailles compelled me to act with caution towards him. He
was in good odor with _mesdames_, had the ear of the young dauphin and
the princes his brothers. He deceived me like a true Jesuit as he was,
in telling me that the _mesdames_ were well disposed towards me; and on
my side I cheated him with a promise of confidence and, friendship which
I never bestowed. Ah! my friend, again and again must I exclaim, what a
villainous place is a court!
Whilst the duc de la Vauguyon was seeking to enlist me under the banners
of heaven or the Jesuits, the marquis of Chauvelin also essayed to make
me his pupil; but as frank as he was amiable, this nobleman did not go
to work in a roundabout manner. He came to me loyally, requesting me to
consider his interests and mine.
“The king likes me,” said he, “and I am attached to him body and soul.
He tenderly loves you, and I should have no difficulty in doing the same
thing; but as I am no longer of an age to inspire you with the passion
which I should feel towards you, I content myself with your friendship.
I have no enemy here, and no wish to hurt any person. Thus you need not
fear that I shall urge you to any measures that might compromise you. It
is the hatred of the kingdom that you will have to fear. France is about
to march in a better track, and the best plan is to follow its lead.
It pains me, madame, to use language which may appear severe to you; we
ought only to talk to you of your beauty and the love which it inspires.
But in your situation, even that beauty may serve the interests of
France, and it is for that motive that I come to solicit you.”
I replied to M. de Chauvelin with equal frankness. I told him that my
sole intentions were to confine myself to the circle of my duties; that
I had none but to please the king, and no intention of mixing myself
up with state affairs. This was my plan I can assure you. I flattered
myself that I could follow it, not dreaming of those political nuisances
into which I was precipitated in spite of myself. I added, nevertheless,
that in my situation, which was delicate, I would not refuse the
counsels of a faithful servant of the king, and that under this title M.
de Chauvelin should be consulted on important occasions.
The marquis de Chauvelin had too much good sense, too much knowledge of
the world, not to perceive a refusal concealed under this politeness.
The secret inclination of my heart had already led me to select the duc
d’Aiguillon for my director, and I could not reconcile myself to any
other. He contented himself with asking me again for my friendship,
which I willingly accorded him, and I have always found myself fortunate
in his. Thus did I accept the offers of service from the prince de
Soubise, the duc de la Vauguyon, and the marquis de Chauvelin.
A fourth sought to swell the ranks; the comte, afterwards prince, de
Montbarrey. This gentleman made up in pretensions for what he lacked
in talent. He was weak, self-important, selfish, fond of women, and
endeavored to preserve all the airs of a man of good breeding in the
midst of the grossest debauchery. He was full of respect for himself and
his house, of which in time of need he could cite the whole genealogy.
His nomination was a real scandal; no one dreamt of his ever being
minister of war. It was one of the thousand follies of old Maurepas,
whom the late king knew well, and called the ballad-maker of the
council.
The comte de Montbarrey, whom I had known at Paris, came to me one fine
day, fully powdered, performed, and apparelled. He had a smile on
his lip, a loud tone, and an insolent look. He came not to ask
my friendship, but my obedience. He told me that he loved me to
distraction, and of course my head must be equally towards him. He
amused me. I let him run out the full length of his line; and when he
had spun it all out, I said to him, “Monsieur, be so good as to call me
to the recollection of madame de Merfort.”
She was one of the gambling ladies, and at her house I had formerly met
the chevalier de Montbarrey. My reply confounded him: he saw that he had
gone the wrong way to work with me; and, raising the siege, he left me
excessively embarrassed.
Figure to yourself, my friend, what confidence a man, lost in the
crowd of lower courtiers, could inspire me with; for to judge of the
proceedings of the comte de Montbarrey, it would have been necessary
to have seen him as he then was, and not what he became since the
imbecility of M. de Maurepas. When I told comte Jean of his visit, he
would not believe such insolence. You must know that my brother-in-law
also wished to direct me, but I did not consider him sufficiently
clever. His marvellous genius was eclipsed in politics. He swore at my
ingratitude, and I could only appease him by an offering of plenty of
money.
In the midst of this cross-fire of intrigues, one was devised against me
which might have terminated in my ruin; but, thanks to the indefatigable
activity of comte Jean, only served to fix me more firmly in my
situation. Lebel, of whom I have said nothing for this age, came to me
one day: his face was sad, and his look serious. By his manner I augured
that my reign had passed, and that I must quit my post. I awaited what
he should say with mortal impatience. At length he began thus:
“Madame, you have many bitter enemies, who are laboring to effect your
ruin with a blood-thirstiness which nothing can assuage. They have now
spread a report that you are not married. This infamous calumny--”
“Ah, is that all?” said I with joy; “no, my dear Lebel, this time they
do not calumniate me. The worthy creatures for once are right.”
“What,” said Lebel, in a tone of alarm almost comic, “what, are you
really not married?”
“No.”
“Are you not the wife of the comte Guillaume du Barry?”
“No.”
“Then you have deceived the king, and played with me.”
“Lebel, my friend, take another tone. No one has any right to complain.
You have given me to the king as a person to please him; I do so. The
rest can be no matter of yours.”
“Pardon me, madame; it is a matter of the greatest consequence to me. I
am terribly compromised in this affair, and you with me.”
Lebel told me that the duchesse de Grammont had begged him to call upon
her, and had bitterly reproached him about the mistress he had procured
for the king; the duchesse affirmed that I was a nameless and unmarried
creature; and added, that it was his duty to make the king acquainted
with these particulars, unless I, the pretended wife of du Barry, would
consent to go to England when a large pension should be assured to me.
“No, my dear Lebel, I will not go to England; I will remain in France,
at Versailles, at the château. If I am not married I will be; the thing
is easily managed.”
Lebel, somewhat assured, begged me to send for comte Jean, and when he
came he (Lebel) recommenced his tale of grief.
“You are drowning yourself in a glass of water,” said my future
brother-in-law to him, beginning to treat him with less ceremony; “go
back to the duchesse de Grammont, and tell her that madame was married
at Toulouse. She will have an inquiry set on foot; in the mean while my
brother will arrive, and the marriage will take place. Then we will show
the rebels a real comtesse du Barry; and whether my sister-in-law be
a lady of six months’ standing or only of yesterday, that is of no
consequence to the king of France.”
After this conversation Lebel delivered the message to the duchesse
de Grammont, who told him that she should write to Toulouse to the
attorney-general. This was what the comte Jean wished and he was
prepared for her.
But, you will say to me, was it certain that your asserted husband would
marry you? Were there no difficulties to fear? None. Comte Guillaume was
poor, talented, and ambitious; he liked high living, and would have sold
himself to the devil for riches. He was happy in marrying me. Comte Jean
would not have ventured such a proposal to his other brother, the comte
d’Hargicourt, who had much good sense and great notions of propriety,
and who at Versailles was called the _honnéte homme_; a distinction not
over flattering to his two brothers.
The same evening the whole family arrived, and was presented to me the
next day. My two future sisters-in-law frightened me at first with their
provincial manners and southern accent; but, after a few minutes,
I found that this Gascon pronunciation had many charms with it.
Mesdemoiselles du Barry were not handsome but very agreeable. One was
called Isabelle, whom they had nicknamed _Bischi_, the other’s name was
Fanchon, and her name had been abbreviated to “_Chon_.” The latter had
much talent, and even brought to Versailles with her, an instinctive
spirit of diplomacy which would have done honor to a practised courtier.
She would have been thought simple, unsophisticated, and yet was full of
plot and cunning.
I was soon much pleased with her, and the king became equally so. He was
always very much amused at hearing her talk _patois_ (provincially), or
recite the verses of one Gondouli, a poet of Languedoc. He used to make
her jump upon his knees; and altho’ she had passed the first bloom
of youth, he played with her like a child. But what most particularly
diverted the king, was calling my sister-in-law by her nickname;
“_Petite Chon, grande Chon_,” he was always saying, “do this, go there,
come here.” Louis XV did the same with his own daughters: he had amongst
them a _Loque_, a _Graille_, a _Chiffe_, and they were the ladies
Victoire, Adélaïde, and Sophie, whom he thus elegantly designated. I so
soon saw the taste of the king for nicknames that I gave him one, it
was Lafrance. So far from being angry with me, he laughed to tears
every time that I called him so. I must confess, _en passant_, that
the anecdote about the coffee is true.* I will only justify myself by
saying, that if I expressed myself coarsely it was not in consequence
of my vulgar education, but because the king liked such modes of
expression.
*Louis XV had a habit of making his own coffee after dinner.
One day the coffee boiled over the sides of the pot, and
madame du Barry cried out, “Eh, Lafrance, ton cafe f --- le
camp.” (author)
Let me revert to my marriage, which was performed secretly at the parish
of Saint Laurent. I believe the king knew of it, altho’ he never alluded
to it any more than myself. Thus the malice of my enemies was completely
balked in this affair. Some days afterwards comte Jean received a letter
from the attorney-general of the parliament of Toulouse, M. the marquis
de Bonrepos-Riquet. This gentleman informed my brother-in-law that he
had been applied to, to institute an inquiry at all the notaries, and
amongst all the registers of the parishes for the proof of my marriage;
that he warned us to be on our guard, and that whatever diligence he
might be desired to employ, he should do nothing without informing us.
We felt the obligation of this proceeding, and my brother-in-law thanked
the attorney-general in my name as well as in his own. He told him that
it was not at Toulouse that the parties interested should make their
researches for my marriage certificate, but at Paris, either at the
parish church of Saint Laurent, or at the notary’s, Lepot d’Auteuil. M.
de Bonrepos gave part of this reply to the duchesse de Grammont. Great
was the bustle amongst the Choiseuls! I leave you to judge of the
fury of the lady or ladies, for the contesse de Grammont was no less
irritated than the other, always prepossessed with the idea, that to
please the king was to wrong their family. The comtesse de Grammont had
not half the talent of the duchesse, she had only her faults. She
showed herself so rude and impertinent towards me, that I was at length
compelled, not to exile her of my own accord, but to allow that she
should be so served. But I anticipate, for this did not occur until the
following year.
The king by all his kindnesses endeavored to recompense me for these
attacks: he appeared charmed to see me surrounded by my husband’s
family. He placed amongst the pages the vicomte Adolphe du Barry, son of
comte Jean, a young man of great promise, but whose destiny was so brief
and so unfortunate. My husband’s family testified much affection for
me, as did the duc d’Aiguillon, to whom I daily attached myself. He
carefully kept from me all that could give me pain, and took a thousand
precautions that no unpleasant reports should reach me. If we passed a
short time without meeting he wrote to me, and I confess I was delighted
with a correspondence which formed my own style. Mademoiselle Chon, my
sister-in-law, and I also wrote to each other, and that from one room to
another. I remember that one day, having broken a glass of rock crystal
which she had given me, I announced my misfortune in such solemn style,
and with so well feigned a tone of chagrin, that the letter amused the
whole family. The king saw it, and was so much pleased that he kept it,
and next day sent me a golden goblet enriched with stones, which I gave
to Chon, to whom it rightfully belonged.
CHAPTER VI
Journey to Choisy--The comtesse du Barry and Louis XV--The
king of Denmark--The czar Peter--Frederick II--The abbé de
la Chapelle--An experiment--New intrigues--Secret agents-The
comtesse and Louis XV--Of the presentation--Letter of the
comtesse to the duc d’Aiguillon--Reply--Prince de Soubise
Up to this period I had resided constantly at Versailles or Paris,
according to the pleasure of the king, but had never followed his
majesty in any of his journeys. He wished to pass some days at his
delightful 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 the
_entrée_ to my apartment became a favor not accorded to every body.
A small committee met there, and talked of every thing except what is
rational; and I can assure you that with such conversation time passes
very quickly.
One day the king entered my apartment holding in his hand a letter.
“I am about to receive,” said he, “a visit that will not give me much
pleasure. My brother of Denmark is traversing Europe, and is about
to come to France. _Mon Dieu_! what inconvenient persons are your
travelling kings! Why do they leave their kingdoms? I think they are
very well at home.”
“Yes, sire, but there is an excuse for them: they are weary of admiring
your majesty at a distance, and wish for the happiness of knowing you.”
At this compliment the king rubbed his hands with a smile, which he
always did when he was satisfied, and then said,
“There is not in the hearts of foreign potentates the same affection
towards my person as you feel. It is not me but France they wish to see.
I remember that when very young I received a visit from the czar Peter
the Great, Peter the First I mean to say. He was not deficient in sense,
but yet behaved like a boor: he passed his time in running over the
academies, libraries, and manufactories: I never saw such an ill-bred
man. Imagine him embracing me at our first interview, and carrying me in
his arms as one of my valets would have done. He was dirty, coarse,
and ill-dressed. Well, all the Frenchmen ran after him; one would
have supposed by their eagerness that they had never seen a regal
countenance.”
“Yet there was no occasion to run very far to see the handsome face of a
king.”
“Hold your tongue, madame la baronne de Pamklek, you are a flatterer.
There is a crowned head which for thirty years has desired to visit
France, but I have always turned a deaf ear, and will resist it as long
as possible.”
“Who, sire, is the king so unfortunate as to banished by you from your
majesty’s presence?”
“Who? The king of philosophers, the rival of Voltaire, my brother of
Prussia. Ah, my dear baronne, he is a bad fellow; he detests me, and I
have no love for him. A king does wisely, certainly, to submit his works
to the judgment of a Freron! It would be outrageous scandal if he came
here. Great and small would crowd around him, and there would not be
twenty persons in my train.”
“Ah! sire, do you think so?”
“I am sure of it. The French now-a-days do not care for their kings,
and _la Fronde_ will be renewed at an early day. After all, philosophers
believe that Frederick II protects them: the honest man laughs both at
them and me.”
“At you, sire? Impossible.”
“No, no; I know the impertinences he is guilty of towards me: but let
him. I prefer making my court to the pretty women of my kingdom instead
of to my pages. You may depend upon it that if he came to Versailles he
would debauch some of them.”
The king, charmed at having said this malicious speech, rubbed his hands
again.
“Really, sire,” I replied, “I am astonished that this prince, having
such disgusting inclinations, can have much _éclat_ attached to his
name.”
“Ah, that is because he has great qualities: he will not allow himself
to be cheated. Do you know that he is acquainted with the disposal of
his finances to the last farthing?”
“Sire, he must be a miser.”
“No, madame, he is a man of method. But enough of him. As to his majesty
of Denmark, altho’ he would have been as welcome to stay at home, I
shall receive him with as much attention as possible. The kings of
Denmark and Sweden are my natural allies.”
The king changed the subject, and said, “There is an 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 the _Parc-aux-Cerfs_. The duc d’Aiguillon, whose
attachment to me increased, calculated accurately all the advantages of
this presentation. It would place me on the same footing with madame de
Pompadour, and compel the ministers to come and work with me. The duke
did not doubt but that M. de Choiseul would refuse to pay his _devoirs_
to me, and that his resistance would lead to his fall. But for my
presentation, it was necessary not only that the king should consent,
for of that I was certain, but that he should desire it, and his desire
could not be depended on.
Louis XV was excessively timid: with an air which appeared of a
dreadnaught quality, he was fearful at heart. The clamors of Versailles
kept him in alarm; and he kept at his own court and at foreign courts
secret agents, whose only care was to report to him the complaints
of the people and the sarcasms and satires of society. The king was
attached to them; and when the force of circumstances compelled him to
abandon them, he still supported them clandestinely with all his power.
A proof of what I advance may be known as regards the chevalier or
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 oral _lettre de cachet_,
the most amiable little devil in France. And now, mademoiselle du Barry,
having nothing further to add, I pray God to take you to His powerful
and holy keeping.”
After this pleasantry the king, delighted at the gay termination of
a somewhat serious scene, went, or rather vanished; for to use a
proverbial expression, he ran like a thief.
As soon as I was alone with my sister-in-law, I told her all that had
passed.
“I see,” said she, “that the king is fearful of offending the duc de
Choiseul, and giving annoyance to his daughters. But a step must
be determined on which will place you out of the reach of complete
disgrace. Would it not be best to get some nobleman, who can do so with
influence, to speak to him on the subject? If the duc de Richelieu were
here--”
“But,” I instantly exclaimed, “have we not his nephew, the duc
d’Aiguillon? He is well with the king, and I am certain will take the
most lively interest in all that concerns me.”
“I have no doubt of it,” said Chon, with a sly look. “Write to him to
come, and you can arrange your ulterior proceedings.”
On this advice, which was quite to my taste, I went instantly to my
writing-table, the last present which the king had made me. It was made
of silver gilt, and china slabs beautifully painted. When I opened it,
a glass was lifted which reflected my countenance. I sat down and wrote
the following note to the duc d’Aiguillon:--
“You must be content. I want your assistance, I really want it. The
moment has come for deserving all my confidence. Will you have it at all
risks and perils? Reflect well before you undertake this: if you accept,
come to-day at five o’clock precisely, neither later nor sooner.”
A little while afterwards the following reply was brought.
“One thing displeases me in your letter which else enchants me. You
appear to doubt my obedience. Am I not your slave? And when you say to
me _go_, will I not _go_? Rely on me as on yourself; even more: for your
vivacity may lead you into error, and I shall preserve my reason. Yes,
madame, I will, when near you, preserve my reason when your interests
are at stake. At the fixed hour I shall have the honor to lay at your
feet my respectful homage and boundless devotion.”
It was impossible to express a real sentiment with more delicacy. I
was charmed at it, no longer doubting that the duke would consider my
interests as his own. I awaited the hour of five with impatience,
when my good fortune brought the prince de Soubise. After the first
compliments,
“Well, madame la comtesse, when is your presentation to take place?”
“I do not know, monsieur le 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.
CHAPTER VII
The comtesse and the duc d’Aiguillon--M. de Soubise--Louis
XV and the duc d’Aiguillon--Letter from the comtesse to the
king--Answer of the king-The “_Nouvelles a la Main_”--The
comtesse and Louis XV--The supper--The court ladies
mystified--The comtesse and M. de Sartines
I was still triumphing at the skill which I had displayed in my
conference with the prince de Soubise when the duc d’Aiguillon entered.
“Good heaven,” said he, kissing my hand very tenderly, “into what
inquietude did you throw me by your dear and cruel letter. The ambiguity
of your style has caused me inexpressible sorrow; and you have added to
it by not allowing me to come to you at the first moment.”
“I could not: I thought it would be dangerous for you to appear before
the king previously to having seen me.”
“Would the king have thought my visit strange?” asked the duke, not
without some emotion.
“That is not the point. The black spite of my enemies has not yet
deprived me of the counsels of a friend. But as it is necessary to speak
to the king in my favor, I wish that he should not know that you do so
at my request.”
After this I related to the duke my conversation with the king.
“Your situation is delicate,” said he to me, “but it should not trouble
you. The king is weak, we must give him courage. It is his pliancy of
disposition rather than his resistance that we must contend with, and I
go to act upon it.”
I then instructed the duke with what had passed between me and the
prince de Soubise. When I had done, the duke replied:
“Expect nothing from the prince de Soubise: he will speak, no doubt; but
how? In a jesting, laughing way. If, however, you think he can at all
serve you, give him all your confidence.”
“No, no, never,” I replied with quickness; “it is not a thing to be done
lightly; we do not select a confidant, counsellor, or friend, at random.
Do you not know this, M. le duc? It is requisite that the heart of
the one who speaks should repose itself on the heart of the friend who
listens. I repeat to you that I have no feeling of confidence towards
M. de Soubise. In fact,” I added with visible and troubled emotion, “my
choice is made, and you have too much heroism to wish to combat it.”
At these flattering words the duke precipitated himself at my feet, and
swore to support my cause with all his power and interest. I replied
that I fully relied on his devotion and prudence. Comte Jean entered,
and it was agreed between us three that I should say no more to the king
of my presentation before the duc d’Aiguillon had spoken to him of it;
that I should content myself with complaining without peevishness, and
that we should leave the opening measure to the prince de Soubise, and
let him break the ice to his majesty.
The prince de Soubise behaved exactly as the duke had told me: he came
to me the next morning with a mysterious air, which already informed
me of all he had to say. He said that he had vainly tormented the king;
that his majesty wished things to remain just as they were, and desired
that until a new order of things nothing should be altered.
“I am sorry for it, monsieur le 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 was _living_ evidence 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. When _mesdames royales_ cried out,
he stopped his ears with his two hands, and seemed, whilst looking
proudly at France, to say, “Am not I a good father, and are not my
daughters very happy, for I let them cry out with all their might?”
The next day the duc d’Aiguillon went again to the king, and found him
bewildered with family scenes and the murmurings of the Choiseuls. When
my ambassador had delivered his message, the king asked him if he, as
well as the prince de Soubise, had been set upon his haunches by me.
The duke, nothing intimidated at this, told the king that far from
having wished that he should be my interpreter, I had requested him not
to allude to the matter.
“Why, then,” said Louis XV laughing, “do you not follow the advice of
the comtesse?”
“Because I entertain a sincere attachment for her, and that I am vexed
to hear it said that there are persons who lead your majesty.”
“Who are the insolents that hold such language?”
“They surround you, sire. There is not a female here but affirms that
you dare not decide on the presentation of the comtesse.”
“I alone am master, and will let them know it when the opportunity
arrives; but the present moment is not fitting. The comtesse knows how
well I love her; and if she will prove her friendship towards me, she
will remain quiet for some time.”
The duke thought it best to be silent, and came to me. After relating
the conversation, he added, “Do not appear at all dejected; the king
would not then visit you lest he should find you out of temper. Were I
you I should write to him; a word of peace would set him at ease.”
I approved this advice, and instantly penned the following letter:--
“Sire--They tell me that your majesty has been tormented on my account.
It is a treason of which I alone could believe myself capable. But why
should I complain? You have done so much for me that I ought to
esteem myself happy: your august friendship consoles me thro’ all my
annoyances. Be assured that henceforth I shall pout no more; I will be
the best sheep in the world, relying on my shepherd for not having my
fleece cut too closely; for after all I think I am the petted ewe, etc.”
A short time afterwards a page brought me a splendid box of _bonbons_
with a pair of ruby ear-rings surrounded with diamonds, and this short
billet:--
“Yes, assuredly you are my pet ewe, and always shall be. The shepherd
has a strong crook with which he will drive away those who would injure
you. Rely on your shepherd for the care of your tranquillity, and the
peace of your future life.”
In the evening the king visited me. He was embarrassed, but I set him at
ease by showing him a laughing countenance, talking only of his present,
which I had in my ears, and shaking my head about to keep the drops in
motion, which sparkled with great brilliancy. He was pleased at this,
and did not leave me all the evening. In the morning we were the best
friends in the world.
Some days elapsed, when comte Jean came to me, bringing two infamous
articles which had appeared in the “_Nouvelles a la Main_,” and were
directed against me. They were atrocious and deeply chagrined me: I
placed them on the mantel-piece, where all who came in could see them.
The duc de Duras read them, and said, “Conceal these atrocities from the
king.”
“No,” was my reply, “I wish him to read them, that he may know how his
affections are respected, and how the police of Paris are employed in
doing their duty to the throne.”
These last words annoyed M. de Duras, between whom and M. de Sartines
there was a connection: the duke was indebted to the lieutenant-general
of police for the special surveillance which he kept over a young girl
of whom he, the duc de Duras, was foolishly enamoured. Trembling for
his _dear friend_ M. de Sartines, he wrote to him in haste, but had not
courage or talent enough to undertake the defence of the guilty person.
The king came as usual; his general station was at the chimney-piece,
where he amused himself with looking at the baubles that ornamented it.
The “_Nouvelles a la Main_” fell in his way. He read them once, then
again; then, without uttering a word, threw them into the fire. I
observed him, and saw that he was full of emotion which he sought to
conceal, but the anger burst forth soon. The prince de Soubise, who
supped with us that evening, asked the duc de Duras if he had read the
“_Gazette de France._”
“No,” was the reply; “I seldom read such nonsense.”
“And you are quite right,” said the king. “There is at present a most
inconceivable mania for writing. What is the use, I ask you, gentlemen,
of this deluge of books and pamphlets with which France is inundated?
They only contain the spirit of rebellion: the freedom of writing ought
not to be given to every body. There should be in a well-regulated state
seven or eight writers, not more; and these under the inspection of
government. Authors are the plague of France; you will see whither they
will lead it.”
The king spoke this with an animated air, and if at this moment M. de la
Vrillière had come to ask for a _lettre de cachet_ against a writer, the
king would not have refused it.
“Besides,” added the king, in a tone of less anger, but no less
emphatically, “I see with pain that the police do not do their duty with
regard to all these indignities.”
“Yet,” said the duc de Duras, “M. de Sartines does wonders.”
“Then why does he tolerate such insults? I will let him know my
discontent.”
The duc de Duras was alarmed, and kept his mouth closed. The king then,
resuming his gaiety, joked the two gentlemen on their secret intrigues:
then changing the conversation suddenly, he talked of the expected
arrival of the king of Denmark.
“Duc de Duras,” said he, “you and your son must do the office of master
of ceremonies to his _Polar_ majesty. I hope you will endeavor to amuse
him.”
“Yes, sire.”
“Mind, what you undertake is no joke. It is no easy matter to amuse a
king.”
This was a truth which I perceived at every moment, and our monarch
was not the one to be amused with trifling exertion. Frequently when
he entered my apartment he threw himself on an ottoman, and yawned most
excessively, yes, yawned in my company. I had but one mode of rousing
him from this apathy, but it was a sure one. I spoke of the high
magistracy and its perpetual resistance to the throne. Then the king
aroused, instantly sprung from his seat, traversed the room with rapid
strides, and declaimed vigorously against the _black gowns_; thus he
styled the parliaments. I confess, however, that I only had recourse to
the “black gowns” at the last extremity. Little did I think that at a
later period I should league myself against them. On the one hand, the
duc d’Aiguillon hated them mortally, and on the other, the comte Jean,
like a real Toulousian, would have carried them in his slippers; so that
wavering between the admiration of the one and the hatred of the other,
I knew not which to listen to, or which party to side with. But to
return to present matters.
The king was always thinking of the “_ Nouvelles a la Main,_” and
determined to avenge me as openly as I had been attacked. Two or three
days afterwards he gave a supper, to which he invited the duchesse and
comtesse de Grammont, madame de Forcalquier, the princess de Marsan, the
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 to _themselves_, of having no _strangers_; they
pierced me with a hundred thrusts; they triumphed! And yet the king was
laughing in his sleeve. At a premeditated signal the duc d’Aiguillon,
one of the guests, asked his majesty if he had seen the comtesse du
Barry that day. This terrible name, thrown suddenly into the midst of my
enemies, had the effect of a thunder-clap. All the ladies looked at each
other first and then at the king, and the duc d’Aiguillon, reserving
profound silence. His majesty then replied, that he had not had the
happiness of visiting me that day, not having had one moment’s leisure;
then eulogized me at great length, and ended by saying to the duke, “If
you see the comtesse before I do, be sure to say that I drank this glass
of wine to her health.”
The ladies did not anticipate this. The duchesse de Grammont
particularly, in spite of long residence at court, turned pale to her
very ears, and I believe but for etiquette she would have fallen into
a swoon. I learnt afterwards from the 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.
CHAPTER VIII
The sieur Ledoux--The _lettre de cachet_--The duc de la
Vrillière--Madame de Langeac--M. de Maupeou--Louis XV--The
comte Jean
On that very evening, the king having come to me, I said to him,
“Sire, I have made acquaintance with M. de Sartines.”
“What! has he been to make friends with you?”
“Something like it: but he has appeared to me less culpable than I
thought. He had only yielded to the solicitation of my personal enemy.”
“You cannot have one at my court, madame; the lieutenant of police would
have done well not to have named her to you.”
“Thanks to him, however, I shall now know whom I ought to mistrust. I
know also who is the author of the two scurrilous paragraphs.”
“Some scamp, no doubt; some beggarly scoundrel.”
“A monsieur Ledoux.”
“Ah, I know the fellow. His bad reputation has reached me. It must be
stopped at last.”
So saying, Louis XV went to the chimney, and pulled the bell-rope with
so much vehemence that ten persons answered it at once.
“Send for the duc de la 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: the _lettres de cachet_ emanated from his office, and he
carried on an execrable trade in them. If any person wished to get rid
of a father, brother, or husband, they only had to apply to M. de la
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 the _petit 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.
*This gentleman would have been an able coadjutor for Sir
Robert Walpole.--Trans.
You know how, as first president of the parliament of Paris, he
succeeded his father as vice-chancellor. At the resignation of the
titular M. de Lamoignon*, the elder Maupeou received his letters of
nomination, and as soon as they were registered, he resigned in favor of
his son. The Choiseuls had allowed the latter to be nominated, relying
on finding him a creature. I soon saw that the Choiseuls were mistaken.
*In September, 1768. (au.)
It was in the month of October, that Henriette, always my favorite, came
to me with an air of unusual mystery, to say, that a black* and ugly
gentleman wished to see me; that on the usual reply that I was not
visible, he had insisted, and sent, at the same time, a cautiously
sealed note. I took it, opened, and read these words:--
*i.e., black-haired and/or dressed in black (Gutenberg ed.)
“The chancellor of France wishes to have the honor of presenting his
respectful homage to madame la comtesse du Barry.”
“Let him come in,” I said to Henriette.
“I will lay a wager, madame, that he comes to ask some favor.”
“I believe,” replied I, “that he is more frequently the solicited than
the solicitor.”
Henriette went out, and in a few minutes led in, thro’ the private
corridors which communicated with my apartment, his highness monseigneur
Rene Nicolas Charles Augustin de Maupeou, chevalier and chancellor of
France. As soon as he entered I conceived a good opinion of him, altho’
I had only seen him walk. His step was firm and assured, like that of a
man confident in the resources of his own talents.
“Madame la comtesse du Barry,” he said, “would have a right to complain
of me, if I did not come and lay my person at her feet. I had the more
impatience to express to her my devotion, as I feared she had been
prejudiced against me.”
“How, monseigneur?”
“The gate by which I entered the ministry--”
“Is not agreeable to me, as being that of my enemies, but I feel assured
that you will not side with them against me.”
“Certainly not, madame; it is my wish to give you pleasure in every
thing, and I flatter myself I may merit your friendship.”
After many other compliments, the Chancellor asked me, with much
familiarity, when my presentation was to take place, and why it had
not yet occurred. I replied, that the delay arose from the intrigues
of Choiseul, and the king shrunk from the discontent of a handful of
courtiers.
“I am sorry for it,” said M. de Maupeou; “in the first place, madame,
because of the interest I take in you, and also because for his majesty,
it would be a means of striking terror into the opposing party. You
know, madame, how annoying parliaments are to all your friends, and
with what bitterness those of Bretagne and Paris, at this moment, are
pursuing the duc d’Aiguillon.”
“Do you think,” I replied with emotion, “that matters are unfavorable
towards him?”
“I hope not, but he must be warmly supported.”
“Ah! I will aid him with all my influence. He is no doubt innocent of
the crimes imputed to him.”
“Yes, certainly. He has done no other wrong than to defend the authority
of the crown against the enmity of the parliaments.”
We continued some time to talk of parliaments and parliament men: then
we agreed that M. de Maupeou should see me again, accompanied by the duc
d’Aiguillon, who should have the credit of presenting him, and he left
me with as much mystery as he had entered.
When the king came to see me, I said to him, “I have made acquaintance
with your chancellor: he is a very amiable man, and I hope that he will
not conduct himself improperly towards me.”
“Where did you see him?”
“Here, sire, and but a short time since.”
“He came then to visit you?”
“Yes, in person, that he might obtain the favor of being permitted to
pay his court to me.”
“Really what you tell me seems perfectly unaccountable. He has then
burst from the hands of the Choiseuls? It is amusing. Poor Choiseul,
when soliciting for Maupeou, he most tremendously deceived himself.”
“At least, sire, you must own that he has given you no fool.”
“True. The chancellor is a man full of talents, and I do not doubt but
that he will restore to my crown that power which circumstances have
deprived it of. However, if you see him familiarly, advise him not to
persuade me to extreme measures. I wish all should work for the best,
without violent courses and without painful struggles.”
These last words proved to me the natural timidity of the king.
“I knew very well,” added the king, “that Maupeou would not prove a man
for the Choiseuls. The main point is, that he should be mine, and I am
content.”
Louis XV was then satisfied with the chancellor, but he was not equally
so with the comte Jean.
“I do not like,” said he to me, “your Du Barry monkey. He is a
treacherous fellow, who has betrayed his party, and I hope some of these
mornings we shall hear that the devil has wrung his neck.”
CHAPTER IX
The king of Denmark--The courtesans of Paris--The duc de
Choiseul and the bishop of Orleans--Witty repartees of the
king of Denmark--His visit to madame du Barry--“The court of
king Petaud,” a satire--Letter of the duc d’Aiguillon to
Voltaire--The duchesse de Grammont mystified--Unpublished
letter of Voltaire’s
From this moment, and in spite of all that comte Jean could say
against it, a new counsellor was admitted to my confidence. He was the
chancellor. The duc d’Aiguillon and he were on very good terms, and
these two, with the 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 his _credo_?”
M. de Jarente understood the joke, and was the first to jest upon his
own unepiscopal conduct, replying to the duc de Choiseul,
“There is a person present who knows it; he will whisper it to me, and,
if necessary, the _Veni Creator_ also.”
The king of Denmark was congratulated by the duc de Choiseul,
who discharged this duty with as much grace as wit. Afterwards M.
Desgranges, master of the ceremonies, having announced that Louis XV was
visible, the king of Denmark, preceded by his gentlemen and the French
ministers and lords, went to the king’s cabinet, in which two arm-chairs
precisely alike were prepared, but his majesty of Denmark positively
refused to be seated. He entered into conversation, and felicitated
himself on seeing a monarch, whose renown filled Europe, and whom
he should take as his model. During this conversation Christian VII
displayed the greatest amiability. Our king, speaking to him, said, “I
am old enough to be your father”; to which he replied, “All my conduct
towards you shall be that of a son.” This was thought admirable; and
at the termination of the interview Louis XV appeared charmed with his
brother of Denmark. “He is a complete Frenchman,” said he to me, “and I
should be sorry if he left me dissatisfied.”
That same evening Christian VII visited monseigneur the dauphin, in whom
he did not find the urbanity of his grandfather. The conversation was
short and abridged out of regard to our prince, who only stammered,
without being able to find one polished phrase. Never was there in his
youth a more timid and awkwardly conducted prince than the present king.
I shall mention him and his brothers hereafter, but will now direct my
immediate attention to the king of Denmark. He supped the same evening
with Louis XV at a table with four and twenty ladies of the court,
selected from amongst those most celebrated for the charms of their
persons or their wit. As his Danish majesty was greatly struck with
madame de Flaracourt, the king asked him how old the lady might be in
his opinion.
“Thirty, perhaps,” was the reply.
“Thirty, brother! she is fifty.”
“Then age has no influence at your court.” I shall not copy the
“_Gazette de France_” to tell you of the sojourn of Christian VII at
Paris. I am not writing the journal of this prince but of myself. The
king one day said to me,
“My brother of Denmark has expressed to the duc de Duras a great desire
to pay his respects to you, if you will accede to his wishes. I leave
you entirely sovereign mistress of yourself, not without some fear
however that the young king will steal away your heart from me.”
“Ah, sire,” I replied, “that is an unjust suspicion; I should be angry
about it if it were not a joke, and would refuse to see the king of
Denmark did I not know how fully you are assured of my attachment to
you.”
“I should not be so jealous, madame, if I did not set so much value on
it,” was the reply of the king, as he kissed my hand.
The duc de Duras came the next day to inform me of the request of his
new king. It was agreed, in order to keep the interview secret, that
I should receive him at my own mansion in the Rue de la Jussienne,
and that he should come there without suite, and with the strictest
incognito. At the day and hour agreed he entered my house, escorting two
strangers of admirable presence. One was the king of Denmark, under
the name of comte de ------, and the other a nobleman of his suite.
Christian VII appeared to me a very handsome man. He had large and
singularly expressive eyes; too much so, perhaps, for their brilliancy
was not of good augury; and I was not surprised at hearing subsequently
that his reason had abandoned him, altho’ he possessed and exerted his
wit most perfectly during our conversation, in which he displayed the
greatest gallantry. I could not reproach him with one single expression
that was objectionable, altho’ the subject of conversation was delicate.
He discoursed of the feelings of the king towards me, and yet said not a
word that was unsuited or out of place, nothing but what was in the best
taste, and expressed with the utmost delicacy. I asked him if the ladies
of Denmark were handsome. “I thought, madame,” was his reply, “until
now, that the ladies of my kingdom were the most lovely in Europe.”
We did not talk of myself only: Christian VII spoke of Paris with
enthusiasm. “It is the capital of the world,” he remarked, “and our
states are but the provinces.” He sought out our most celebrated
_savants_ and _literati_, and was particularly delighted with
d’Alembert, Diderot, la Harpe, and M. the comte de Buffon. He greatly
regretted that Voltaire was not in Paris, and expressed his great desire
to see at Ferney the great genius (as he termed him) who instructed and
amused the world. He appeared weary of the 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 the
_literati_, women, and young persons. Voltaire is a god, who is not to
be smitten without sacrilege.”
“Must I then tamely submit to be beaten?”
“Yes, for the moment. But it will not last long; I have just written
this letter to M. de Voltaire, that peace may be made between you:--
“SIR,--The superiority of your genius places you amongst the number of
the potentates of Europe. Every one desires, not only to be at peace
with you, but even, if it be possible, to obtain your esteem. I flatter
myself with being included in the ranks of your admirers; my uncle has
spoken to you many times of my attachment to your person, and I embrace
the opportunity of proving this by a means that now presents itself.
“Persons in whom you place too much confidence have spread abroad, under
your name, copies of a poem, entitled ‘_La Cour du Roi Petaud._’ In
this, wherein insult is cast on a personage who should be exempt from
such offence, is also outraged, in a most indecent way, a lovely female,
whom you would adore as we do, if you had the happiness to know her. Is
it for the poet of the lover of Gabrielle to carry desolation into the
kingdom of the Graces?
“Your correspondents use you ill by leaving you in ignorance, that this
young person has immense favor here; that we are all at her feet; that
she is all powerful, and her anger is to be particularly avoided. She
is the more to be propitiated, as yesterday, in Presence of a certain
person whom your verses had greatly irritated, she took up your defence
with as much grace as generosity. You see, sir, that you ought not to be
on bad terms with her.
“My uncle allows me to see, as one of the initiated, what you call your
scraps, which are delicious feasts to us. I read them to the lady in
question, who takes great delight in reciting, or hearing others recite,
your verses, and she begs you will send her some as a proof of your
repentance. Under these circumstances, if your bellicose disposition
urges you on to war, we hope, before you continue it, that you will
loyally and frankly declare it.
“In conclusion, be assured that I shall defend you to my utmost, and am
for life,
“Yours, etc.”
Whilst we were awaiting Voltaire’s reply, I determined to avenge myself
on the duchesse de Grammont, who had encouraged him in his attack; and
thus did I serve this lady. Persuaded that she did not know the writing
of his Danish majesty, I wrote the following letter to her:--
“MADAME LA DUCHESSE,--I have struggled to this time to avoid confessing
to you how I am subdued. Happy should I be could I throw myself at your
feet. My rank alone must excuse my boldness. Nothing would equal my
joy if this evening, at the theatre at madame de Villeroi’s, you would
appear with blue feathers in your head-dress. I do not add my name; it
is one of those which should not be found at the bottom of a declaration
of love.”
In spite of all her penetration, the duchesse de Grammont did not
perceive, in the emphatic tone of this letter, that it was a trick.
Her self-love made her believe that a woman of more than forty could be
pleasing to a king not yet twenty. She actually went in the evening to
madame de Villeroi’s dressed in blue, with a blue plumed head-dress. She
was placed next to his Danish majesty. Christian VII addressed her in
most courteous terms, but not one word of love.
The duchesse imagining that the prince was timid, looked at him with
eyes of tenderness, and endeavored to attract and encourage him by all
means she could devise, but the monarch did not understand her. The
duchesse then addressed a few words, which she hoped would lead to
an explanation, but, to her dismay, his majesty did not appear to
understand her. Madame de Grammont was furious at this affair. The duc
d’Aiguillon, who was close to her, had seen all, heard all, and related
particulars to me. The same day I told the king of my trick and
its success. He laughed excessively, and then scolded me for at all
compromising his Danish majesty.
“How, sire?” was my reply. “I did not sign his name; I have not forged
his signature. The vanity of the duchesse has alone caused all the
ridiculous portion of this joke. So much the worse for her if she did
not succeed.”
I did not, however, limit my revenge to this. A second letter, in
the same hand, was addressed to my luckless enemy. This time she was
informed that she been made a butt of, and mystified. I learned from M.
de Sartines, who, after our compact, gave me details of all, the methods
she had pursued to detect the author of these two epistles, and put
a termination to all these inquiries, by denouncing myself to M. de
Sartines; who then gave such a turn to the whole matter, that the
duchesse could never arrive at the truth.
Voltaire, in the meantime, was not slow in reply; and as I imagine that
you will not be sorry to read his letter, I transcribe it for you:--
“MONSIEUR LE DUC,--I am a lost, destroyed man. If I had strength enough
to fly, I do not know where I should find courage to take refuge. I!
Good God! I am suspected of having attacked that which, in common with
all France, I respect! When there only remains to me the smallest power
of utterance, but enough to chant a _De profundis,_ that I should employ
it in howling at the most lovely and amiable of females! Believe me,
monsieur le duc, that it is not at the moment when a man is about to
render up his soul, that a man of my good feeling would outrage the
divinity whom he adores. No, I am not the author of the ‘_Cour du Roi
Petaud._’ The verses of this rhapsody are not worth much, it is true;
but indeed they are not mine: they are too miserable, and of too bad a
style. All this vile trash spread abroad in my name, all those pamphlets
without talent, make me lose my senses, and now I have scarcely enough
left to defend myself with. It is on you, monsieur le duc, that I rely;
do not refuse to be the advocate of an unfortunate man unjustly accused.
Condescend to say to this young lady, that I have been before embroiled
with madame de Pompadour, for whom I professed the highest esteem;
tell her, that at the present day especially, the favorite of Caesar is
sacred for me; that my heart and pen are hers, and that I only aspire to
live and die under her banner.
“As to the scraps you ask for, I have not at this moment any suitable.
Only the best viands are served up at the table of the goddesses. If
I had any I would present them to the person of whom you speak to me.
Assure her, that one day the greatest merit of my verse will be to have
them recited by her lips; and entreat her, until she bestows immortality
on me, to permit me to prostrate myself at her beautiful feet.
“I will not conclude my letter, monsieur le duc, without thanking you
a thousand times for the advice you have given me. This proof of your
kindness will, if possible augment the sincere attachment I bear to you.
I salute you with profound respect.”
As it is bold to hold the pen after having transcribed anything of M. de
Voltaire’s, I leave off here for to-day.
CHAPTER X
When is the presentation to take place?--Conversation on
this subject with the king--M. de Maupeou and M. de la
Vauguyon--Conversation on the same subject with the king and
the duc de Richelieu--M. de la Vrillière--M. Bertin---Louis
XV and the comtesse--The king’s promise--The fire-works, an
anecdote--The marquise de Castellane--M. de Maupeou at the
duc de Choiseul’s--The duchesse de Grammont
In spite of the love of the duchesse de Grammont, the king of Denmark
departed at last. Louis XV having resumed his former habits, I began
to meditate seriously on my presentation; and my friends employed
themselves to the utmost in furthering my desires and insuring my
triumph.
The chancellor, who each day became more attached to my interests,
opened the campaign. One day, when the king was in a rage with the
parliaments, the chancellor seized the opportunity to tell him that
the cabal, who were opposed to my presentation, testified so much
resistance, under the idea, and in the hope, that they would be
supported by the parliaments of Paris.
“If your majesty,” added the chancellor, “had less condescension towards
these malcontents, they would fear your authority more.”
“You will see,” replied the king, “that it will be their audacity which
will urge me on to a step, which otherwise I should wish to avoid.”
Whilst the hatred which M. de Maupeou bore towards the parliaments
served me in this way, the love of M. de la Vauguyon for the Jesuits
turned to even more advantage. The good duke incessantly talked to me of
his dear Jesuits; and I as constantly replied, that my influence would
not be salutary until after my presentation, M. de la Vauguyon had
sense enough to perceive the embarrassment of my situation, and saw
that before I could think of others I must think of myself. Having taken
“sweet counsel” with the powerful heads of his company, he freely gave
me all his influence with the king.
Fortune sent me an auxiliary not less influential than these two
gentlemen; I mean the 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 your _baton_ left.”
“Which he has nobly gained,” I replied, “by fighting against your
majesty’s enemies, and of which he still continues worthy, by now
defending me from my foes.”
“This rebellion,” said the king, “cannot last, and I see myself
compelled to hold a _lit de justice_ (a judicial sitting or bed).”
“And I swear to you, that I will receive nobody into mine until I have
been presented.”
This sally amused the king, who said, “Well, since it must be so, you
shall be presented.”
At this I leaped on the king’s neck, giving a cry which might have been
heard by my rivals. After that, I advanced to the two gentlemen who had
advocated my cause so well, extending a hand to each, which they took
and kissed with great gallantry.
Louis XV became thoughtful, and continued to mutter between his teeth,
“I wash my hands of it--they will cry out, they will clamor, but it must
be so.” I saw the feelings of the king, and took care not to allow him
to go away in this state. Whilst I sought to compose him by my caresses,
the duc de Richelieu told us one of his thousand and one adventures,
which he told so well. I know not if it will please you, but such as it
is I shall give you an abridgment of it.
“I was, you know,” he began, “a very good-looking, a very wild fellow:
women have no objection to this. I was travelling, and in my way thro’
D----, M., the intendant of the city, insisted on my taking up my abode
at his house. His lady added her entreaties, and I consented. I must
tell you that the lady was handsome. I had passed the night with her;
but when, on the next morning, as I sought to go out of her apartment, I
found the outer door double locked and bolted. I looked round me on all
sides, but found no egress. Whilst I was lamenting this with the lady’s
_femme-de-chambre_, who was nearly as much distressed as her mistress,
I saw in a detached closet a great many machines covered with paper, and
all of different shapes. On inquiry, I was informed that the following
Monday was the lady’s birthday, which they were to celebrate with
fireworks. I looked at the beautiful fusees and brilliant suns with
much admiration. Suddenly, thinking of the lady’s honor which might be
compromised, I took a light and set fire to a Roman candle; in a
moment the whole was in flames, and everybody took alarm. Great was the
consternation in the house, which was turned out of windows; and in the
uproar, the house-door being broken open, a crowd of persons rushed in;
I ran this way and that way; everybody admired and praised my exertions.
I was compelled to quit the house at last, and ordered my carriage,
whilst M. the intendant was thanking me for the vast service I had
rendered him. I assure you, sire, that I never laughed more heartily.” *
* The duc de Richelieu preserved his coolness and talent at
repartee in the most trivial circumstances. The story is
well known of the man who came to ask for his aid, saying
they were related. “How?” asked the duke. “Sir, by Adam.”
“Give this man a penny,” said the duke, turning to a
gentleman of his train; “and if all of his relations give
him as much he will soon be a richer man than I am.”
If our readers will turn to “Joe Miller,” Page 45, they will
find this jest attributed to the witty duke of Buckingham.
It is a very good joke for a duke, but savors more of a
desire to be witty than to be charitable. (translator)
This tale amused the king, and M. de Richelieu assured him that he had
never told it before. A thousand considerations had induced him to keep
it to himself until the present time. “But now,” said he, “the third
generation of madame l’intendante is no longer young, and I have no fear
of being called out to fight a duel.”
Next day there was a general rumor of my presentation. My friends
asserted that I had the king’s promise. This was imprudent on their
part, and they injured my interest whilst they flattered my vanity. They
put the Choiseul cabal to work, who intrigued so well that not a person
could be found who would perform the office of introductress. You
know the custom: the presentation is effected by the intermediation of
another lady, who conducts the person to be presented to the princesses,
and introduces her. This custom had passed into a law, and it would have
been too humiliating to me to have dispensed with it.
This was a dire blow for me: it distressed me sadly, and I wept over it
with my friends. The duc de Richelieu said to me,
“With money and promises everything can be managed at court. There is no
place where they know better how to value complaisance, and the price at
which it is sold. Do not give yourself any uneasiness; we shall find the
lady we want.”
And we did find her, but her compliance was dearly bought. Two ladies
who were applied to stipulated for most outrageous conditions. One, the
marquise de Castellane, consented to present me, but demanded that she
should be created a duchess, and have a gift of five hundred thousand
livres: the other, whose name I forget, asked for her husband the order
of the Holy Ghost and a government, a regiment for her son, and for
herself I forget what. These ladies seemed to think, like Don Quixote
and Sancho Panza, that governments and five hundred thousand livres
were to be picked up on the highway. In truth, they spoke out without
disguise.
At this juncture the chancellor had a singular conversation concerning
me with the Choiseuls. He had been one morning to call on the duke, and
whilst they were discoursing, the duchesse de Grammont came into her
brother’s apartment, and entered at once into conversation.
“Ah, my lord, I am glad to see you. Your new friends carry you off from
your old ones. You are wrong to adore the rising sun.”
“That was the idolatry of a great number of persons: but I beg of you to
be so very kind as not to speak to me in figures, if you would wish me
to understand you.”
“Oh, you play off the ignorant. You know as well as I do what I mean,
and your daily visits to this _fille_.”
“Which, madame? There are so many at court!”
This sarcastic reply made the brother and sister smile; both of them
being fully competent to understand the merit of an epigram. The duke
fearing lest the duchess should go too far, judging by what she had
already said, thus addressed him:
“You are, then, one of the adorers of the comtesse du Barry?”
“Yes, monsieur le duc; and would to God that, for your own interest, you
would be so too!”
“My brother set foot in the house of this creature!”
“Why not, madame? We see good company there; the prince de Soubise, the
ducs de la Trimouille, de la Vauguyon, Duras, Richelieu, d’Aiguillon,
and many others, not to mention the king of France. A gentleman may be
seen in such company without any disgrace.”
“Monsieur le chevalier,” replied the duke, “to speak candidly to you,
allow me to ask, if any one who would have the friendship of our house
would be seen in that of the lady in question?”
“Pardon me, duke; that is not the question. Allow me, in turn, to ask
you, why those of your house should not go there? This, I think, is the
real question.”
“You offer us a splendid alliance!” said the duchess with anger.
“I offer nothing, madame: I only inquire. For my part, I see no
legitimate motive for this proscription of madame du Barry.”
“A woman without character!”
“Character! Why, madame, who has any in these days? M. de Crebillon the
younger would be at a loss to tell us where to find it.”
This reply made the duke and his sister smile again. The chancellor went
on thus:
“It appears to me that persons were less difficult in the times of
madame de Pompadour.”
“But a creature who has been so low in society!”
“Have you seen her so, madame? And supposing it has been the case, do we
interdict all ladies of conduct not less blamable from an introduction
at court. How many can you enumerate, madame, who have led a life much
more scandalous? Let us count them on our fingers. First, the 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, which
_
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