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
When I related to comte Jean my reconciliation with the duc de Richelieu, and the sum which this treaty had cost me, my brother-in-law flew into the most violent fury; he styled the maréchal a plunderer of the public treasury. Well may the scripture tell us we see the mote in our neighbor's eye, but regard not the beam which is in our own eye. I was compelled to impose silence on comte Jean, or in the height of his rage he would have offered some insult to the old maréchal, who already most heartily disliked him for the familiarity of his tone and manner towards him. I did all in my power to keep these two enemies from coming in each other's way, counselled to that by the maréchale de Mirepoix, whose line of politics was of the most pacific nature; besides I had no inclination for a war carried on in my immediate vicinity, and, for my own part, so far from wishing to harm any one, I quickly forgave every affront offered to myself.
But hold! I perceive I am running on quite smoothly in my own praise. Indeed, my friend, it is well I have taken that office upon myself, for I fear no one else would undertake it. The most atrocious calumnies have been invented against me; I have been vilified both in prose and verse; number of persons on whom I have conferred the greatest obligations, none has been found with sufficient courage or gratitude to stand forward and undertake my defence. I do not even except madame de Mirepoix, whose conduct towards me in former days was marked by the most studied attention. She came to me one evening, with a face of grief.
"Mercy upon me," cried I, "what ails you?"
"Alas!" replied she, in a piteous tone, "I have just quitted a most afflicted family; their loss is heavy and irreparable. The maréchale de Luxembourg is well nigh distracted with grief."
"Good heavens!" exclaimed I, "can the duchesse de Lauzun be dead?"
"Alas! no."
"Perhaps poor madame de Boufflers?"
"No, my friend."
"Who then is the object of so much regret? Speak; tell me."
"Madame Brillant."
"A friend of the old maréchale 's?"
"More than a friend," replied madame de Mirepoix; "her faithful companion; her only companion; her only beloved object, since her lovers and admirers ceased to offer their homage—in a word, her cat."
"Bless me!" cried I, "how you frightened me! But what sort of a cat could this have been to cause so many tears?"
"Is it possible that you do not know madame Brillant, at least by name?"
"I assure you," said I, "this is the very first time I ever heard her name."
"Well, if it be so, I will be careful not to repeat such a thing to madame de Luxembourg; she would never pardon you for it. Listen, my dear countess," continued madame de Mirepoix; "under the present circumstances it will be sufficient for you to write your name in her visiting-book."
I burst into a fit of laughter.
"It is no joke, I promise you," exclaimed the maréchale; "the death of madame Brillant is a positive calamity to madame de Luxembourg. Letters of condolence will arrive from Chanteloup; madame du Deffant will be in deep affliction, and the virtues and amiable qualities of the deceased cat will long furnish subjects of conversation."
"It was then a singularly engaging animal, I presume?"
"On the contrary, one of the most stupid, disagreeable, and dirty creatures of its kind; but still it was the cat of madame de Luxembourg."
And after this funeral oration the maréchale and myself burst into a violent fit of laughter.
When the king joined us, I acquainted him with this death, and my conversation with the maréchale. Louis XV listened to my recital with an air of gravity; when I had finished, he said, "The present opportunity is admirably adopted for satisfying the request of one of my retinue, one of the best-hearted creatures, and at the same time one of the silliest men in the kingdom."
"I beg your pardon, sire," cried I, "but what is his name? For the description is so general, that I fear lest I should be at a loss to recollect of whom you are speaking."
"You are very ill-natured," cried Louis XV, "and I hardly know whether you deserve to be gratified by hearing the name of the poor gentleman: however, I will tell it to you; he is called Corbin de la Chevrollerie. A few days since this simple young man, having solicited an audience, informed me, that he was desirous of marrying a rich heiress, but that the young lady's family were resolved she should marry no one who was not previously employed as an ambassador. I expressed my surprise at so strange a caprice, but the poor fellow endeavored to vindicate his bride's relations, by stating that that they were willing to consider him as my ambassador if I would only commission him to carry some message of compliment or condolence. Accordingly I promised to employ him upon the occasion of the first death or marriage which should take place in a ducal family. Now, I think I cannot do better than make him the bearer of my inquiries after the maréchale de Luxembourg."
This idea struck me as highly amusing, and I immediately dispatched a servant to summon M. de la Chevrollerie to the presence of the king. This being done, that gentleman presented himself with all the dignity and importance of one who felt that a mission of high moment was about to be entrusted to him.
His majesty charged him to depart immediately to the house of madame de Luxembourg, and to convey his royal master's sincere condolences for the heavy loss she had sustained in madame Brillant.
M. Corbin de la Chevrollerie departed with much pride and self-complacency upon his embassy: he returned in about half an hour.
"Sire," cried he, "I have fulfilled your royal pleasure to madame de Luxembourg. She desires me to thank you most humbly for your gracious condescension: she is in violent distress for the severe loss she has experienced, and begged my excuse for quitting me suddenly, as she had to superintend the stuffing of the deceased."
"The stuffing!" exclaimed the king; "surely you mean the embalming?"
"No, sire," replied the ambassador, gravely, "the stuffing."
"Monsieur de la Chevrollerie," cried I, bursting into a violent fit of laughter, "do you know in what degree of relationship the deceased madame Brillant stood to madame de Luxembourg?"
"No, madam," replied the ambassador, gravely, "but I believe she was her aunt, for I heard one of the females in waiting say, that this poor madame Brillant was very old, and that she had lived with her mistress during the last fourteen years."
Thus finished this little jest. However, Louis XV, who was extremely kind to all about him, especially those in his service, shortly after recompensed his simple-minded ambassador, by intrusting him with a commission at once profitable and honorable.
Another event which took place at this period, caused no less noise than the death of madame Brillant. At this time, mademoiselle Mesnard was, for her many charms of mind and person, the general rage throughout Paris. Courtiers, lawyers, bankers, and citizens crowded alike to offer their homage. Frail as fair, mademoiselle Mesnard received all kindly, and took with gracious smiles the rich gifts showered upon her by her various adorers. The first noblemen of the court, knights of the different orders, farmers-general, all aspired to the honor of ruining themselves for her. She had already satisfied the ruinous propensities of at least a dozen of lovers, when the duc de Chaulnes entered the lists, and was fortunate enough to eclipse all his rivals. He might long have enjoyed the preference thus obtained, but for an act of the greatest imprudence of which a lover could be guilty. He was so indiscreet as to invite several of his most intimate friends to sup with himself and Mademoiselle Mesnard. Amongst the number was Caron de Beaumarchais, a man possessed of the grace of a prince and the generous profusion of a highwayman. Caron de Beaumarchais attracted the fancy of the fickle mademoiselle Mesnard, a mutual understanding was soon established between them, and in a snug little cottage surrounded by beautiful grounds in the environs of Pere la Chaise, the enamored lovers frequently met to exchange their soft vows.
Happily the deity who presided over the honor of the duke was carefully watching their proceedings. This guardian angel was no other than madame Duverger, his former mistress, who, unable to bear the desertion of her noble admirer, had vowed, in the first burst of rage and disappointment, to have revenge sooner or later upon her triumphant rival. With this view she spied out all the proceedings of mademoiselle Mesnard, whose stolen interviews and infidelity she was not long in detecting; she even contrived to win over a femme de chambre, by whose connivance she was enabled to obtain possession of several letters containing irrefragable proofs of guilt, and these she immediately forwarded to the duc de Chaulnes.
This proud and haughty nobleman might have pardoned his mistress had she quitted him for a peer of the realm and his equal, but to be supplanted by a mere man of business, an author, too!—the disgrace was too horrible for endurance. The enraged lover flew to Beaumarchais, and reproached him bitterly with his treachery; the latter sought to deny the charge, but the duke, losing all self-possession, threw the letters in his face, calling him a base liar. At this insult, Beaumarchais, who, whatever his enemies may say of him, was certainly not deficient in courage, demanded instant satisfaction. The duke, by way of answer, seized the man of letters by the collar, Beaumarchais called his servants, who, in their turn, summoned the guard, which speedily arrived accompanied by the commissary, and with much difficulty they succeeded in removing M. de Chaulnes. (who appeared to have entirely lost his reason) from the room.
The conduct of the duke appeared to us completely out of place, and he would certainly have answered for it within the walls of the Bastille, had not his family made great intercession for him. On the other hand, Beaumarchais, who eagerly availed himself of every opportunity of writing memorials, composed one on the subject of his quarrel with M. de Chaulnes, complaining that a great nobleman had dared to force himself into his house, and lay forcible hands on him, as though he were a thief or a felon. The whole of the pamphlet which related to this affair was admirably written, and, like the "Barber of Seville," marked by a strongly sarcastic vein. However, the thing failed, and the duc de la Vrillière, the sworn enemy of men of wit and talent, caused Beaumarchais to be immediately confined within Fort l'Eveque. So that the offended party was made to suffer the penalty of the offence.
In the same year the comte de Fuentes, ambassador from Spain to the court of Louis XV, took leave of us. He was replaced by the comte d'Aranda, who was in a manner in disgrace with his royal master: this nobleman arrived preceded by a highly flattering reputation. In the first place, he had just completed the destruction of the Jesuits, and this was entitling him to no small thanks and praises from encyclopedists. Every one knows those two lines of Voltaire's—
The simplicity of comte d'Aranda indemnified us in some degree for the haughty superciliousness of his predecessor. Although no longer young, he still preserved all the tone and vigor of his mind, and only the habit which appeared to have been born with him of reflecting, gave him a slow and measured tone in speaking. His reserved and embarrassed manners were but ill-calculated to show the man as he really was, and it required all the advantages of intimacy to see him in his true value. You may attach so much more credit to what I say of this individual, as I can only add, that he was by no means one of my best friends.
When Louis XV heard of the nomination of the comte d'Aranda to the embassy from Spain to France, he observed to me,
"The king of Spain gets rid of his Choiseul by sending him to me."
"Then why not follow so excellent an example, sire?" replied I; "and since your Choiseul is weary of Chanteloup, why not command him upon some political errand to the court of Madrid."
"Heaven preserve me from such a thing," exclaimed Louis XV. "Such a man as he is ought never to quit the kingdom, and I have been guilty of considerable oversight to leave him the liberty of so doing. But to return to comte d'Aranda; he has some merit I understand; still I like not that class of persons around me; they are inexorable censors, who condemn alike every action of my life."
However, not the king's greatest enemy could have found fault with his manner of passing his leisure hours. A great part of each day was occupied in a mysterious manufacture of cases for relics, and one of his valets de chambre, named Turpigny, was intrusted with the commission of purchasing old shrines and reliquaries; he caused the sacred bones, or whatever else they contain, to be taken out by Grandelatz, one of his almoners, re-adjusted, and then returned to new cases. These reliquaries were distributed by him to his daughters, or any ladies of the court of great acknowledged piety. When I heard of this I mentioned it to the king, who wished at first to conceal the fact; but, as he was no adept at falsehood or disguise, he was compelled to admit the fact.
"I trust, sire," said I, "that you will bestow one of your prettiest and best-arranged reliquaries on me." "No, no," returned he, hastily, "that cannot be." "And why not?" asked I.
"Because," answered he, "it would be sinful of me. Ask anything else in my power to bestow, and it shall be yours."
This was no hypocrisy on the part of Louis XV, who, spite of his somewhat irregular mode of life, professed to hold religion in the highest honor and esteem; to all that it proscribed he paid the submission of a child. We had ample proofs of this in the sermons preached at Versailles by the abbé de Beauvais, afterwards bishop of Senetz.
This ecclesiastic, filled with an inconsiderate zeal, feared not openly to attack the king in his public discourses; he even went so far as to interfere with many things of which he was not a competent judge, and which by no means belonged to his jurisdiction: in fact, there were ample grounds for sending the abbé to the Bastille. The court openly expressed its dissatisfaction at this audacity, and for my own part I could not avoid evincing the lively chagrin it caused me. Yet, would you believe it, Louis XV declared, in a tone from which there was no appealabbé had merely done his duty, and that those who had been less scrupulous in the performance of theirs, would do well to be silent on the subject. This was not all; the cardinal de la Roche Aymon, his grand almoner, refused to sanction the nomination of M. de Beauvais to the bishopric, under the pretext of his not being nobly descended.
M. de Beyons, bishop of Carcassone, a prelate of irreproachable character, was deeply distressed to find that the want of birth would exclude M. de Beauvais from the dignities of his holy profession. He went to discuss the matter with the grand almoner, who again advanced his favorite plea for excluding M. de Beauvais. "My lord," replied M. de Beyons, "if I believed that nobility of descent were the chief requisite for our advancement in our blessed calling, I would trample my crosier under foot, and renounce for ever all church dignities."
M. de Beyons sought the king, and loudly complained to him of the infatuation and obstinacy of M. de la Roche Aymon. Louis XV however commanded that M. de Beauvais should be appointed to the first vacant see, and when the grand almoner repeated his objections to the preferment, the king answered, "Monsieur le cardinal, in the days of our blessed Saviour the apostles had no need to present their genealogical tree, duly witnessed and attested. It is my pleasure to make M. de Beauvais a bishop; let that end the discussion of the matter."
The command was too peremptory to admit of any course but instant and entire submission.
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
Amongst the pages of the chapel was one whom the king distinguished so greatly, that he raised him to the rank of a gentleman of the bedchamber, and confided to his charge the cabinet of medals, for which he had imbibed a taste since his liaison with madame de Pompadour. This esteemed page was named M. D——-n, who united to the most amiable wit a varied and deep knowledge of men and things. He had had adventures at an age when they are usually just understood, and talked of them with the utmost indiscretion. But this so far from doing him any injury in the eyes of the world only served to make him the more admired; for women in general have an inclination for those who do not respect their reputation.
At the period I allude to a madame de Blessac, a very well-looking woman, took upon herself to be very kindly disposed towards the gentleman-in-waiting. She told him so, and thereupon M. de D———n ranged himself under her banner, and swore eternal constancy. However, the lady, by some accident, became greatly smitten with the prince de la Trimouille, and without quitting the little keeper of medals, gave him a lord for a substitute. M. D———n soon learnt this fact, that he was not the sole possessor of a heart which formed all his joy and glory. He found he was deceived, and he swore to be revenged.
Now the prince de la Trimouille had for his mistress mademoiselle Lubert, an opera-dancer, very pretty and extraordinarily silly. M. D———n went to her; "Mademoiselle," said he, "I come to offer my services to you in the same way that M. de la Trimouille has offered his to madame de Blessac, with whom I was on exceedingly intimate terms."
The services of young D———n were accepted, and he was happy. He then wrote to his former mistress, saying, that anxious to give her a proof of his sincere attachment he had visited mademoiselle Lubert, that he might leave her at leisure to receive the visits of the prince de la Trimouille.
Madame de Blessac, stung to the quick, quarrelled with the prince, who was excessively enraged with his rival; and there certainly would have been an affair between these two gentlemen, had not the king preserved the peace by sending his gentleman to St. Petersburg as attaché to the embassy. M. D———n went to Russia, therefore, and on his return came to see me, and is now one of the most welcome and agreeable of the men of my private circle.
As to madame de Blessac, she continued to carry on the war in grand style. Her husband dying she married again a foolish count, three parts ruined, and who speedily dissipated the other quarter of his own fortune and the whole of his wife's. Madame Ramosky then attacked the rich men of the day one after another. One alone stood out against her; it was M. de la Garde, who had been one of my admirers. Madame Ramoski wrote to him; he did not answer. At length she determined on visiting him, and wrote him a note, to say that she should call upon him about six o'clock in the evening. What did M. de la Garde? Why he gave a ball on that very evening; and, when madame Ramoski reached his hotel, she found it illuminated. As she had come quite unprepared she was compelled to return as she came, very discontentedly.
But to leave madame de Blessac and M. D———n, and to talk of my own matters. We had at this period a very great alarm at the château, caused by the crime of a man, who preferred rather to assassinate his wife than to allow her to dishonor him. It is worthy of narration.
A pretty shopkeeper of Paris, named Gaubert, who lived in the rue de la Montagne Sainte-Geneviève, had recently married a woman much younger than himself. From the Petit Pont to the rue Mouffetard, madame Gaubert was talked of for her lovely face and beautiful figure; she was the Venus of the quarter. Everybody paid court to her, but she listened to none of her own rank, for her vanity suggested that she deserved suitors of a loftier rank.
Her husband was very jealous. Unfortunately M. Gaubert had for cousin one of the valets of the king: this man, who knew the taste of his master, thought how he could best turn his pretty cousin to account. He spoke to her of the generosity of Louis XV, of the grandeur of Versailles, and of the part which her beauty entitled her to play there. In fact, he so managed to turn the head of this young woman, that she begged him to obtain for her a place in the king's favor. Consequently Girard (that was his name) went to madame de Laugeac, and told her the affair as it was. She pleased with an opportunity of injuring me, went to Paris, and betook herself incog. to the shop of madame Gaubert. She found her charming, and spoke of her to the duc de la Vrillière, and both agreed to show her portrait to his majesty. But how to procure this portrait? Her husband was her very shadow, and never left her. Le petit saint, who was never at a loss, issued a lettre de cachet against him, and the unfortunate man was shut up in Fort l'Evéque. It was not until the portrait was finished that he was set at liberty.
He returned to his home without guessing at the motives of his detention, but he learned that his wife had had her portrait painted during his absence, and his jealousy was set to work. Soon a letter from Girard, a fatal letter, which fell into his hands, convinced him of the injury done him. He took his wife apart, and, feigning a resignation which he did not feel, "My love," he said, "I loved thee, I love thee still: I thought, too, that thou wert content with our competence, and wouldst not have quitted thine husband for any other in the world: I have been convinced otherwise. A letter from Girard informs me, that with thine own consent the king, whom thy portrait has pleased, desires to see thee this very day. It is a misfortune, but we must submit. Only before thou art established at Versailles, I should wish thee to dine with me once more. You can invite cousin Girard, too, for I owe him something for what he has done for thee."
The young wife promised to return and see her husband. That evening at the performance at the court she was seated in the same box with the marquise de Laugeac; the king's glass was directed towards her the whole time, and at the termination of the spectacle it was announced to her, that she was to sleep at the château the next evening. The project was never realized.
The next day, according to promise, the young wife went to Paris with the valet. She informed her husband of the success which had befallen her, and he appeared delighted. Dinner being ready, they seated themselves at table, ate and drank. Girard began to laugh at his cousin for his complaisance, when suddenly all desire to jest left him. He experienced most horrible pains, and his cousin suffered as well as himself. "Wretches!" said Gaubert to them, "did you think I would brook dishonor? No, no! I have deceived you both the better to wreak my vengeance. I am now happy. Neither king nor valet shall ever possess my wife. I have poisoned you, and you must die." The two victims implored his pity. "Yes," said he to his wife, "thy sufferings pain me, and I will free you from them." He then plunged a knife to her heart; and, turning to Girard, said, "As for thee, I hate thee too much to kill thee; die." And he left him.
The next day M. de Sartines came and told me the whole story. He had learnt them from the valet, who had survived his poisoning for some hours. Gaubert could not be found, and it was feared that he would attempt some desperate deed. No one dared mention it to the king, but the captain of the guards and the first gentleman in waiting took every possible precaution; and when Louis XV asked for the young female who was to be brought to him, they told him that she had died of a violent distemper. It was not until some days afterwards that the terror which pervaded the château ceased. They had found the body of the unfortunate Gaubert on the banks of the Seine.
In spite of what had passed, the duc de la Vrillière had the impudence to present himself to me. I treated him with disdain, reproaching him and Laugeac for their conduct. He left me in despair, and wrote me the following letter:—
"MADAME LA COMTESSE,-Your anger kills me. I am guilty, but not so much so as you may imagine. The duty of my office compels me to do many things which are disagreeable to me. In the affair for which you have so slightingly treated me there was no intent to injure you, but only to procure for the king an amusement which should make him the more estimate your charms and your society. Forgive a fault in which my heart bore no share; I am sufficiently miserable, and shall not know repose until I be reinstated in your good graces.
"As for the poor marchioness she is no more to blame than myself. She feels for you as much esteem as attachment, and is anxious to prove it at any opportunity. I beseech you not to treat her rigorously. Think that we only work together for the good of the king, and that it would be unjust of you to hate us because we have endeavored to please this excellent prince. I hope that, contented with this justification, you will not refuse to grant me the double amnesty which I ask of your goodness."
I replied thus:—
"Your letter, monsieur le duc, seduces me no more than your words. I know you well, and appreciate you fully. I was ignorant up to this time, that amongst the duties of your office, certain such functions were imposed upon you. It appears that you attend to them as well as to others, and I sincerely compliment you thereupon; I beg of you to announce it in the 'Court Kalendar.' It will add, I am convinced, to the universal esteem in which you are held.
"As to madame de Laugeac, she is even more insignificant than you, and that is not saying much. I thank her for her esteem and attachment, but can dispense with any marks of them; no good can come from such an one as she. Thus, M. le duc, keep quiet both of you, and do not again attempt measures which may compromise me. Do your business and leave me to mine.
"I am, with all due consideration,
"Your servant,
I mentioned this to the king, who insisted on reconciling me with le petit saint, who came and knelt to me. I granted the pardon sought, out of regard for Louis XV; but from that moment the contempt I felt for the duke increased an hundredfold.
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
The king was much annoyed at the indifference I evinced for all state secrets, and frequently observed to me, "You are not at all like madame de Pompadour: she was never satisfied unless she knew all that was going on, and was permitted to take an active part in every transaction; she would frequently scold me for not telling her things of which I was myself ignorant. She was at the bottom of the most secret intrigues, and watched every turn of my countenance, as though she sought to read in my eyes the inmost thoughts of my mind. Never," continued the king, "did woman more earnestly desire supreme command; and so completely had she learned to play my part, that I have frequently surprised her giving private instructions to my ambassadors, differing altogether from what I myself had dictated to them. Upon the same principle she maintained at various courts envoys and ministers, who acted by her orders, and in her name; she even succeeded in obtaining the friendship of the grave and austere Marie Thérèse, who ultimately carried her condescension so far, as only to address the marchioness by the title of 'cousin' and 'dear friend.' I must confess, however, that these proceedings on the part of madame de Pompadour were by no means agreeable to me, and I even prefer your ignorance of politics to her incessant interference with them."
This was said by Louis XV upon the occasion of the approaching marriage of the comte d'Artois, the object of universal cabal and court intrigue to all but myself, who preserved perfect tranquillity amidst the general excitement that prevailed.
Various reasons made the marriage of this prince a matter of imperative necessity. In the first place, the open gallantry of the young count had attracted a crowd of disreputable personages of both sexes to Versailles, and many scandalous adventures occurred within the château itself; secondly, a motive still more important in the eyes of Louis XV, originated in the circumstance of neither the marriage of the dauphin nor that of the comte de Provence having been blest with any offspring. The king began to despair of seeing any descendants in a direct line, unless indeed heaven should smile upon the wedded life of the comte d'Artois. Louis XV disliked the princes of the blood, and the bare idea that the duc d'Orleans might one day wield his sceptre would have been worse than death.
Many alliances were proposed for the prince. Marie Josèphe, infanta of Spain, was then in her twentieth year, and consequently too old. The princess Marie-Françoise-Bénédictine-Anne-Elizabeth- Josèphe-Antonine-Laurence-Ignace-Thérèse-Gertrude-Marguerite-Rose, etc., etc., of Portugal, although younger than the first-mentioned lady, was yet considered as past the age that would have rendered her a suitable match for so young a bridegroom. The daughter of any of the electoral houses of Germany was not considered an eligible match, and the pride of the house of Bourbon could not stoop to so ignoble an alliance. There was no alternative left therefore, but to return to the house of Savoy, and take a sister of the comtesse de Provence. This proposal was well received by the royal family, with the exception of the dauphiness, who dreaded the united power and influence of the two sisters, if circumstances should ever direct it against herself or her wishes; and I heard from good authority, that both the imperial Marie Thérèse and her daughter made many remonstrances to the king upon the subject. "The empress," said Louis XV, one day, "believes that things are still managed here as in the days of the marquise de Pompadour and the duc de Choiseul. Thank heaven, I am no longer under the dominion of my friend and her pensionaries. I shall follow my own inclinations, and consult, in the marriage of my grandson, the interests of France rather than those of Austria."
The little attention paid by Louis XV to the representations of Marie Thérèse furnished my enemies with a fresh pretext for venting their spleen. They accused me of having been bribed by the court of Turin, which ardently desired a second alliance with France. I was most unjustly accused, for I can with truth affirm, that the comte de la Marmora, ambassador from Piedmont to Paris, neither by word nor deed made any attempt to interest me in his success. The king was the first person who informed me of the contemplated marriage, and my only fault (if it could be called one) was having approved of the match.
More than one intrigue was set on foot within the château to separate the princes. Many were the attempts to sow the seeds of dissension between the dauphin and the comte d'Artois, as well as to embroil the dauphin with monsieur. The first attempt proved abortive, but the faction against monsieur succeeded so far as to excite a lasting jealousy and mistrust in the mind of Marie Antoinette. This princess was far from contemplating the marriage of the comte d'Artois with any feelings of pleasure, and when her new sister-in-law became a mother, she bewailed her own misfortune in being without children with all the feelings of a young and affectionate heart. Heaven did not, however, always deny her the boon she so ardently desired.
You will, readily believe that the same anxiety prevailed upon the occasion of this approaching marriage as had existed at the unions of the dauphin and the comte de Provence, to obtain the various posts and places the ambition of different persons led them to desire in the establishment of the newly married pair. Wishing on my own part to offer the maréchale de Mirepoix a proof of my high estimation of her friendship towards me, I inquired of her whether a superior employment about the person of the comtesse d'Artois would be agreeable to her?
"Alas! my dear creature," replied the good-natured maréchale, "I am too old now to bear the toil and confinement of any service. The post of lady of honor would suit me excellently well as far as regards the income attached to it, but by no means agree with my inclinations as far as discharging its functions goes. You see I am perfectly candid with you. Listen to me; if you really wish to oblige me, you can do this—give the title to another, and bestow the pecuniary part of the engagement on me. In that manner you will be able to gratify two persons at the same time."
"I will endeavor," said I, "to meet your wishes as far as I possibly can, and you may be assured that you shall derive some advantage from this marriage."
And I kept my word by shortly after obtaining for the maréchale a sum of 50,000 livres; a most needful supply, for the poor maréchale had to re-furnish her house, her present fittings-up being no longer endurable by the eye of modish taste: she likewise received an augmentation of 20,000 livres to her pension. This proceeding was highly acceptable to her, and the king afforded his assistance with the best possible grace. He could be generous, and do things with a good grace when he pleased.
The refusal of the maréchale, which it was agreed we should keep secret, obliged me to cast my eyes upon a worthy substitute, and I at length decided upon selecting the comtesse de Forcalquier, a lady who possessed every charm which can charm and attract, joined to a faultless reputation; and, setting aside her strict intimacy with myself, the court (envious as it is) could find no fault with her. I was convinced she would not be long in acquiring an ascendency over the mind of the princess and I was equally well assured she would never turn this influence against myself; this was a point of no small importance to me.
Madame de Forcalquier most ardently desired the place of lady of honor, without flattering herself with any hopes of obtaining it; and, not liking to ask me openly for it, she applied to the duc de Cossé. I felt some regret that she had gone to work in so circuitous a manner, and in consequence wrote her the following note:—
"MADAM,—I am aware that you are desirous of obtaining the post of lady of honor. You should not have forgotten that I am sufficiently your friend to have forwarded your wishes by every possible exertion. Why did you apply to a third person in preference to seeking my aid? I really am more than half angry with you for so doing. Believe me, my friends need not the intervention of any mediator to secure my best services. You, too, will regret not having made your first application to me, when I tell you that I was reserving for you the very place you were seeking by so circuitous a route. Yes, before you had asked it, the post of lady of honor was yours. I might have sought in vain for a person more eminently qualified for the office than yourself, or one in whom I could place more unlimited confidence. Come, my friend, I pray of you, not to thank me, who have found sufficient reward in the pleasure of obliging you, but to acknowledge the extreme kindness and alacrity with which his majesty has forwarded your wishes.
"Believe me, dear madam,
"Yours, very sincerely,
"THE COMTESSE Du Barry."
Madame de Forcalquier was not long in obeying the summons contained in my note; she embraced me with the warmest gratitude and friendship, delighted at finding herself so eligibly established at court, for at that period every person regarded the comte d'Artois as the only hope of the monarchy; and blinded by the universal preference bestowed on him, the young prince flattered himself that the crown would infallibly ornament his brows. I have been told, that when first the queen's pregnancy was perceived, a general lamentation was heard throughout the castle, and all ranks united in deploring an event which removed the comte d'Artois from the immediate succession to the throne.
Up to the present moment I knew Madame de Forcalquier only as one whose many charms, both of mind and person, joined to great conversational powers and the liveliest wit, had rendered her the idol of society, and obtained for her the appellation of Bellissima. I knew not that this woman, so light and trifling in appearance, was capable of one of those lively and sincere attachments, which neither time nor change of fortune could destroy or diminish. She had a particular friend, a madame Boncault, the widow of a stockbroker, and she was anxious to contribute to her well-doing. With this view she solicited of me the place of lady in waiting for this much-esteemed individual. Astonished at the request I put a hasty negative on it.
"If you refuse me this fresh favor," said madame de Forcalquier, "you will prevent me from profiting by your kindness to myself."
"And why so?" inquired I.
"I owe to madame Boncault," answered she, "more than my life; I am indebted to her for tranquillity, honor, and the high estimation in which the world has been pleased to hold me. I have now an opportunity of proving my gratitude, and I beseech of you to assist my endeavors."
"But tell me, first," cried I, "what is the nature of this very important service you say madame de Boncault has rendered you; is it a secret, or may I hear it?"
"Certainly," replied the countess, "although the recital is calculated to bring the blush of shame into my cheek. Are we alone, and secure from interruption?"
I rang and gave orders that no person should be suffered to disturb us; after which madame de Forcalquier proceeded as follows:—
"I was scarcely seventeen years old, when my parents informed me that they had disposed of my hand, and that I must prepare myself to receive a husband immediately. My sentiments were not inquired into, nor, to confess the truth, was such an investigation usual, or deemed a matter of any import. A young female of any rank has no voice in any transaction till the day which follows her marriage; until then her wishes are those of her family, and her desires bounded by the rules of worldly etiquette. I had scarcely conversed twice or thrice with my future lord, and then only for a few minutes at a time, before he conducted me to the foot of the altar, there to pronounce the solemn vow which bound me his for life. I had scarcely seen him, and barely knew whether he was agreeable or disagreeable. He was neither young nor old, handsome nor ugly, pleasing nor displeasing; just one of those persons of whom the world is principally composed; one of those men who enter or leave a saloon without the slightest curiosity being excited respecting him. I had been told that I ought to love my husband, and accordingly I taught myself to do so; but scarcely had the honeymoon waned, than my fickle partner transferred his affections from me to one of my attendants; and to such a height did his guilty passion carry him, that he quitted his home for Italy, carrying with him the unfortunate victim of his seductive arts. It was during his absence that I first became acquainted with madame Boncault; she was my own age, and equally unfortunate in her domestic life; the same tests, griefs, and a great similarity of temper and disposition soon united us in the bonds of the firmest friendship; but as she possessed a stronger and more reasonable mind than I did, she forgot her own sorrows to administer to mine. However, if the whole truth must be owned, I ought to confess that my chief consolation was derived from a young cousin of my own, who freely lavished upon me that unbounded affection I would fain have sought from my husband.
"Meanwhile, wearied of his folly, this latter returned; and, after having transferred his capricious fancies to at least half a dozen mistresses, he finished where he should have begun by attaching himself to her, who, as his wife, had every claim to his homage. Men are unaccountable creatures, but unfortunately for my husband his senses returned too late; my heart was too entirely occupied to restore him to that place he had so hastily vacated. My affections were no longer mine to bestow, but equally shared by my estimable friend madame Boncault and my young and captivating cousin. I was a bad hand at dissimulating, and M. de Forcalquier perceived enough of my sentiments to excite his jealous suspicions, and immediately removed with me to one of his estates.
"However, my cousin (whom my husband was far from suspecting) and madame Boncault accompanied me in my retreat; there myself and my admirer, more thrown together than we had been at Paris, began insensibly to lay aside the restraint we had hitherto imposed on our inclinations, and commenced a train of imprudences which would quickly have betrayed us had not friendship watched over us. The excellent madame Boncault, in order to save my reputation, took so little care to preserve her own, that M. de Forcalquier was completely caught by her manoeuvre. One morning, finding me alone, he said,
"' Madam, I am by no means satisfied with what is going on here. Your friend is wholly devoid of shame and modesty; she has been with us but one short fortnight, and is now the open and confessed mistress of your cousin.'
"'Sir,' exclaimed I, trembling for what was to follow, 'you are, you must be mistaken: the thing is impossible. Madame Boncault is incapable—'
"'Nonsense, madam,' replied M. de Forcalquier; 'I know what I am saying. Several things have induced me to suspect for a long while what I now assert with perfect confidence of its truth; but if you are still incredulous, behold this proof of guilt which I found just now in your cousin's chamber.'
"So saying, my husband put into my hands a letter written by my cousin evidently to some female in the château, whom he solicited to admit him that evening to the usual place of rendezvous, where he flattered himself their late misunderstanding would be cleared up.
"After having read, or, to speak more correctly, guessed at the contents of this fatal letter, I conjured my husband to replace it where he had found it, lest his guests should suspect him of having dishonorably obtained possession of their secret. He quitted me, and I hastened in search of my friend: I threw myself on my knees before her, and related all that had passed, accusing myself of the basest selfishness in having consented to save my honor at the expense of hers; then rising with renewed courage I declared my intention of confessing my imprudence to my husband. Madame Boncault withheld me. 'Do you doubt my regard for you?' asked she; 'if indeed you do justice to my sincere attachment to you, permit me to make this one sacrifice for your safety. Leave your husband at liberty to entertain his present suspicions respecting me, but grant me one favor in your turn. Speak to your cousin; request him to quit the château, for should he remain the truth will be discovered, and then, my friend, you are lost past my endeavors to save you.'
"Less generous than madame Boncault, I consented to follow her advice. However, I have never forgotten her generous devotion; and now that the opportunity has presented itself of proving my gratitude, I beseech of you, my dear countess, to aid me in the discharge of my debt of gratitude."
As madame de Forcalquier finished speaking, I threw myself into her arms. "From this moment," cried I, "madame Boncault is my dear and esteemed protégée; and if I have any influence over the mind of the king, she shall be appointed lady in waiting to our young princess. Such a woman is a treasure, and I heartily thank you for having mentioned her to me."