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
Spite of the merit of madame Boncault, and the many eulogiums I bestowed on her whilst relating her history to the king, I could not immediately obtain the post madame de Forcalquier had requested for this paragon of friends. His majesty replied to me by saying, that no doubt so many virtues merited a high reward, but that ere madame Boncault could be appointed lady in waiting to his granddaughter, she must be presented at court under some other name than the one she now bore.
"Oh, if that be all, sire," replied I, "it will soon be effected. Ladies who have the good fortune to possess a rich dowry and powerful friends need never look far for a choice of husbands. Only let madame Boncault have reason to reckon upon your patronage, and she will have no lack of admirers."
The king, always ready to oblige me, caused it to be understood throughout the château that he was desirous of seeing madame Boncault well established, as he had it in contemplation to confide to her a place of great trust. Immediately a score of suitors presented themselves; the preference was given to the comte de Bourbon Busset as the person most calculated in every respect to answer our purpose; he possessed elegant manners, an unblemished reputation, and a descent so illustrious as to be traced even to the reigning family. No sooner were the celebrations of this marriage over, than I procured the formal appointment of madame de Bourbon Busset to the post of lady in waiting to the new princess. This nomination tended greatly to increase the high opinion entertained of the judgment and discrimination of the comtesse de Forcalquier, and you may easily believe, from the friendship I bore this lady, that I fully entered into her triumph on the occasion.
When the comtesse de Bourbon Busset came to return me her acknowledgments for what I had done, she accompanied it with a request for a fresh interference on my part: this was to obtain for her husband the title of duke and peer. Accordingly I mentioned her wishes to the king, observing at the same time how very surprising it was that one so nearly related to the house of Bourbon should not have reached the honors of the ducal peerage: to which Louis XV replied, that he had no desire to increase the number of princes of the blood, of whom there were quite sufficient of legitimate birth without placing the illegitimate upon the same footing; that Louis XIV had been a sufficient warning of the folly of acting too indulgently towards these latter, who were only so many additional enemies to the royal authority. To all this I answered, that it was not fitting to treat the family of Bourbon Busset, however illegitimate might be its origin, as though it merely belonged to the petite noblesse, etc.; but my arguments were in vain, and, as the proverb says, "I talked to the wind." My friends recommended me not to press the subject, and the matter ended there. However, in order to smooth the refusal as much as possible, I procured M. de Bourbon Busset the appointment of first gentleman usher to the young prince.
The establishment of the comtesse d'Artois was now formed. M. de Chéglus, bishop of Cahors, had the post of first almoner; and strange to say, although a prelate, was a man of irreproachable virtue; he had little wit but strong sense, and was better known by his many charitable deeds than by the brilliancy of his sayings. He was eminently suited for the office now conferred on him; and those who knew him best were the least surprised to find the nomination had fallen on him.
I also procured a post in the establishment of the young couple for my sister-in-law, the comtesse d'Hargicourt. Her maiden name was Fumel, an ancient family in Guienne, and M. de Fumel, her father, was governor of the château Trompette at Bordeaux. This marriage had at first encountered many difficulties from the deadly hatred which existed in the château against us. Comte Jean, perceiving that things were going against us, applied to the king himself for assistance in the affair. Louis XV could not endure him, but his dislike was manifested only by an uneasy timidity in his presence, and he freely granted any request that would the soonest free him from his presence. The king acted upon the same principle in the present conjuncture; he bestowed a million of livres upon the comte d'Hargicourt, that is to say, 500,000 livres to be employed in paying the debts of the comte de Fumel, and in freeing his estates from a dowry of 60,000 livres to be paid to his daughter on her marriage, with various other clearances and payments; besides this my brother-in-law, comte d'Hargicourt, was appointed captain in the prince's Swiss guards, one of the most honorable commissions that could have been conferred on him.
The comte de Crussel and the prince d'Henin were named captains of the guard to M. d'Artois. This prince d'Henin was of such diminutive stature that he was sometimes styled, by way of jest, the "prince of dwarfs," "the dwarf of princes." He was the beloved nephew of the maréchale de Mirepoix, whose fondness could not supply him with the sense he so greatly needed; he was besides very profligate, and continually running into some difficulty or other by his eager pursuit after pleasure. It is related of him, that the duc de Lauragnais, wearied with seeing the prince d'Henin for ever fluttering about his mistress, mademoiselle Arnoult, drew up a consultation, to inquire whether it were possible to die of ennui: this he submitted to several physicians and celebrated lawyers, who having united in replying affirmatively, he caused the consultation with its answer to be forwarded to the prince d'Henin, warning him henceforward to cease his visits to mademoiselle Arnoult; or, in the event of her death, he would certainly be taken up as a party concerned in effecting it.
The opposite party was now more irritated than ever by the many places and employments I caused to be given either to my own friends, or to those for whom they solicited my interest. The duchesse de Grammont, flattering herself that she might now take the field against me with advantage, arrived in Paris one fine morning from Chanteloup. Those about me were full of wrath, I know not for why, at her arrival, but I explained to them, that they were mistaken in supposing madame de Grammont an exile; she had voluntarily accompanied her brother into his retreat, and when that was no longer agreeable to her she returned to Paris. However, her journey did neither good nor harm; she had many invitations to fêtes given in honor of herself, was frequently asked to dinners, balls, etc., but that was all; no person set their wits to work to reinstate her in the good graces of the king. I soon comprehended the forlorn hopes of my poor enemy, and my former animosity soon gave way to the play with which she inspired me.
About the period of the marriage of the comtesse d'Artois, an individual of some eminence fell into disgrace; this was the comte de Broglie. This gentleman, as you know, was private minister to Louis XV, intrusted for some time past with his correspondence, and affected the airs of a favorite. He solicited upon the present occasion the honor of going to meet the princess at the bridge of Beauvoisin, a request which was granted. This was not sufficient for him; he begged for a month's leave of absence, with permission to proceed to Turin: this depended on the duc d'Aiguillon, who was by no means partial to the comte de Broglie. He said to me when speaking of him,
"I feel no inclination to oblige this minister; on the contrary, he may wait long enough for what he desires as far as I am concerned.
"I fear he will be greatly offended with you," answered I.
"Oh, never mind that," replied the duke; "if he grows sullen about it, why well; if he is loud and vehement, better still; and should his anger lead him to the commission of any act of folly, depend upon it we will take advantage of it."
As I foresaw, the comte de Broglie was deeply offended, and wrote to the duc d'Aiguillon a letter full of imprudent expressions. This was exactly what this latter desired, who eagerly carried and read the paper to the different members of the council, who heard it with every expression of surprise and displeasure; the king viewed it as a piece of open rebellion, and resolved to punish the writer with his heaviest displeasure; the duc d'Aiguillon asked nothing better, and ere an hour had elapsed, the duc de la Vrillière received orders to draw up a lettre de cachet in which the king expressed his discontent of the comte de Broglie, deprived him of the commission he had given him to go and receive the princess of Savoy, and exiled him to Buffée, one of his estates near Angoulême.
This was a matter of great talk at the château; no one could imagine what had made the comte de Broglie conduct himself so foolishly. It was at this period that M. d Marchault said of him, when he saw him pass his house on his way to Buffée, "He has the ministry by the tail."
M. de Broglie having gone, his majesty was compelled to look out for another confidant, and raised to that eminence M. Lemoine, clerk of his closet. M. Lemoine, in an inferior station had shown himself competent to fill the highest offices in the state. Such abilities are rare. He was an excellent lawyer, admirable chancellor of exchequer, and had the king said to him, "I make thee a general," he would, the next day, have commanded armies and gained victories. Despite his merit he lived long unknown: the reason was obvious—he knew nothing of intrigue; and his wife, though pretty, was discreet; and these are not the means to advance a man at court.
Louis XV, who knew something of men when he chose to study them., was not slow in detecting the talent of Lemoine, and in consequence gave him that station in which de Broglie had been installed. No sooner had Lemoine glanced over the affairs submitted to his control, than he became master of them, as much as though they had occupied the whole of his life, and in a short time he gave to his situation an importance which it had never before reached. Unwilling, however, to incur hatred, he enveloped himself in profound mystery, so much so that nobody, with the exception of Messrs. d'Aiguillon and de Sartines, knew anything of his labors. This pleased the king, who was averse to publicity.
The duc d'Aiguillon could not conceal his joy at being freed from de Broglie, his most troublesome colleague. It was a grand point gained for him, as he could now make sure of the post of secretary-at-war, the main object of his ambition. He wished to be placed in the duc de Choiseul's position, and to effect this he redoubled his attentions towards the king, who, though not really regarding him, at length treated him as the dearest of his subjects. There are inexplicable mysteries in weak characters; obstinacy alarms them, and they yield because they hate resistance.
The king was ennuied to death, and became daily more dull and heavy. I saw his gloom without knowing how to disperse it, but it did not make me particularly uncomfortable. Occupied with my dear duc de Brissac I almost forgot his majesty for him: the maréchale de Mirepoix, who had more experience than I had in the affairs at Versailles, and who knew the king well, was alarmed at my negligence, and spoke to me of it.
"Do you not see," she said, one day, "what a crisis is at hand?"
"What crisis?" I asked.
"The king is dying of ennui."
"True."
"Does it not alarm you?" said the maréchale.
"Why should it?"
"What makes him so? Think well when I tell you that your mortal enemy has seized Louis XV; your most redoubtable enemy, ennui!"
"Very well; but what would you have me do?"
"You must amuse him."
"That is easier said than done."
"You are right, but it is compulsory. Believe me, kings are not moulded like other men: early disgusted with all things, they only exist in a variety of pleasures; what pleases them this evening will displease them tomorrow; they wish to be happy in a different way. Louis XV is more kingly in this respect than any other. You must devise amusements for him."
"Alas," I replied, "how? Shall I give him a new tragedy of la Harpe's,—he will yawn; an opera of Marmontel,—he will go to sleep. Heavens! how unfortunate I am!"
"Really, my dear," replied the maréchale, "I cannot advise you; but I can quote a powerful example. In such a case madame de Pompadour would have admitted a rival near the throne."
"Madame de Pompadour was very amiable, my dear," I replied, "and I would have done so once or twice, but the part of Mother Gourdan does not suit me; I prefer that of her young ladies."
At these words the maréchale laughed, whilst I made a long grave face. At this instant comte Jean entered, and exclaimed,
"Really, ladies, you present a singular contrast. May I ask you, sister, what causes this sorrow? What ails you?"
"Oh, brother!" was my response, "the king is dying of ennui."
"That is no marvel," said my brother-in-law.
"And to rouse him," I added, "it is necessary, the maréchale says, that I must take a pretty girl by the hand, and present her to the king with these words: 'Sire, having found that you grow tired of me, I present this lady to you, that you may amuse yourself with her."
"That would be very fine," replied comte Jean; "it would show him that you had profited by my advice." Then, whispering in my ear, "You know, sister, I am capable of the greatest sacrifices for the king."
"What are you saying, Comte Jean?" asked the maréchale, who had heard some words.
"I said to my sister," answered he, coolly, "that she ought to be executed to please the king."
"And you, too, brother," I cried.
"Yes, sister," said he, with a theatrical tone, "I see the dire necessity, and submit to it unrepiningly. Let us yield to fate, or rather, let us so act as to make it favorable to us. The king requires some amusement, and let us find him a little wench. We must take heed not to present any fine lady: no, no; by all the devils—! Excuse me, maréchale, 'tis a habit I have."
"It is nature, you mean," replied the maréchale: "the nightingale is born to sing, and you, comte Jean, were born to swear; is it not true?" "Morbleu, madam, you are right."
After this conversation the maréchale went out, and Comte Jean departed to arrange his plans for the king's amusement.
However, the ennui of Louis XV was somewhat dissipated by the tidings of the various incidents which occurred at the grand entry of the dauphin and dauphiness into Paris. We learnt that the duc de Brissac, as governor of Paris, on receiving the dauphiness, said,
"Madam, you see about you two hundred thousand lovers." He was right; the princess looked like an angel. I had taken a mortal aversion to her. Alas! circumstances have too fully avenged me: this unfortunate queen loses popularity daily; her perfidious friends have sacrificed her to their interests. I pity her.
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
One day, at an hour at which I was not accustomed to see any person, a lady called and requested to see me; she was informed that I was visible to no person. No matter, she persisted in her request, saying that she had to speak to me upon matters of the first importance, and declared, that I should be delighted with her visit. However, my servants, accustomed to the artifices practised by persons wishing to see me for interested purposes, heeded very little the continued protestations of my strange applicant, and peremptorily refused to admit her; upon which the unknown retired with the indication of extreme anger.
Two hours afterwards a note, bearing no signature, was brought me, in which the late scene was described to me, and I was further informed, that the lady, so abruptly repulsed by my servants, had presented herself to communicate things which concerned not only my own personal safety but the welfare of all France; a frightful catastrophe was impending, which there was still time to prevent; the means of so doing were offered me, and I was conjured not to reject them. The affair, if treated with indifference, would bring on incalculable misfortunes and horrors, to which I should be the first victim. All this apparent mystery would be cleared up, and, the whole affair explained, if I would repair on the following day, at one o'clock, to the Baths of Apollo. A grove of trees there was pointed out as a safe place of rendezvous, and being so very near my residence, calculated to remove any fears I might entertain of meeting a stranger, who, as the note informed me, possessed the means of entering this secluded spot. I was again conjured to be punctual to the appointed hour as I valued my life.
The mysterious and solemn tone of this singular epistle struck me with terror. Madame de Mirepoix was with me at the moment I received it. This lady had a peculiar skill in physiognomy, and the close attention she always paid to mine was frequently extremely embarrassing and disagreeable She seemed (as usual) on the present occasion to read all that was passing in my mind; however, less penetrating eyes than hers might easily have perceived, by my sudden agitation, that the paper I held in my hand contained something more than usual.
"What ails you?" asked she, with the familiarity our close intimacy warranted; "does that note bring you any bad news?"
"No," said I; "it tells me nothing; but it leaves me ample room for much uneasiness and alarm: but, after all, it may be merely some hoax, some foolish jest played off at my expense; but judge for yourself." So saying, I handed her the letter: when she had perused it, she said,
"Upon my word, if I were in your place, I would clear up this mystery; good advice is not so easily met with as to make it a matter of difficulty to go as far as the Baths of Apollo to seek it. It is by no means impossible but that, as this paper tells you, some great peril is hanging over you. The marquise de Pompadour," continued madame de Mirepoix, "received more than once invitations similar to this, which she never failed to attend; and I recollect one circumstance, in which she had no cause to regret having done so: without the kind offices of one of these anonymous writers it is very possible that she might have expired heart broken, and perhaps forsaken in some state prison, instead of ending her days in the château of Versailles, honored even to the tomb by the friendship and regard of the king of France."
I asked my friend to explain her last observation, and she replied as follows:—
"One day an anonymous billet, similar to this, was left for madame de Pompadour: it requested her to repair, at a specified hour, to the church of the Jacobins, rue Saint Honoré, in Paris, where she was promised some highly important communications. The marchioness was punctual to the rendezvous; and, as she entered the church, a Jacobite, so entirely wrapped in his capuchin as to conceal his features, approached her, took her by the hand, and conducted her to an obscure chapel; where, requesting her to sit down, he took a seat himself, and began as follows:—
"'Madam, you are about to lose the favor of the king; a party is at work to give a new mistress to the king; the lady is young, beautiful, witty, and possessed of an insatiable ambition; for the last six months she has been in the daily habit of seeing the king, unknown to you and all the court, and this has been accomplished in the following manner: her father is valet de chambre to his majesty, and she has an only brother, two years younger than herself, whose astonishing resemblance to her has created continual mistakes; this brother is promised the inheritance of his father's office; and, under pretext of acquiring the due initiation for future post, has been permitted every morning to attend the king's rising.
"'However, this embryo page is the sister, who comes each morning disguised in her brother's clothes. The king has had many private conversations with the designing beauty; and, seduced by her many charms of mind and person, as well as dazzled by the hidden and concealed nature of their intrigue, finds his passion for her increases from day to day. Many are the designing persons ready to profit by the transfer of the king's affections from you to this fresh favorite; and they flatter themselves the desired event is close at hand. You are to be confined by a lettre de cachet to the isle of St. Margaret, for the place of your exile is already chosen. The principal conspirators are two powerful noblemen, one of whom is reputed your most intimate friend. I learned all these particulars,' continued the Jacobite, 'from a young penitent, but not under the seal of confession. This penitent is the particular friend of the female in question, who confided the secret to her, from whom I received it, accompanied by the most flattering promises of future protection and advancement. These splendid prospects excited her jealous envy, and she came here to confess the whole to me, requesting I would seek you out and inform you of the whole affair. Here is a letter she obtained unknown to her aspiring friend, which she wishes you to see, as a pledge of the veracity of her statement.' The marchioness cast her eyes over the paper held out to her by the Jacobite. It was a letter addressed by the king to his new mistress.
"You may imagine the terror of madame de Pompadour, her anxiety and impatience to return to Versailles. However, ere she quitted the friendly monk she assured him of her lasting gratitude, and begged of him to point out how she could best prove it. 'For myself,' replied he, 'I ask nothing; but if you would render me your debtor, confer the first vacant bishopric on a man whom I greatly esteem, the abbé de Barral.' You will easily suppose that the abbé de Barral had not long to wait for his preferment: as for the Jacobite the marchioness never again saw or heard anything of him. She mentioned him to the newly appointed bishop, who could not even understand to what she alluded. She related the affair, when he called heaven to witness that he knew nothing of any Jacobite either directly or indirectly."
"And how did the marchioness get rid of her rival?" inquired I of madame de Mirepoix.
"By a very simple and effective expedient. She sent for the duc de Saint Florentin, whom she requested immediately to expedite two lettres de cachet; one for the valet de chambre, who was shut up in the château de Lectoure, and the other for the daughter, whom the marchioness sent to the isle of St. Marguerite, to occupy the place she had so obligingly destined for herself."
"And now," asked I, "did these unfortunate people ever get out of prison?"
"That I know not," answered the maréchale; "and, God forgive me, for aught I ever inquired they may be there now."
"If so," cried I, "the conduct of both the king and the duc de la Vrillière is abominable and unpardonable."
"Why, bless your heart, my dear," exclaimed the maréchale, "do you expect that his majesty should recollect all the pretty women he has intrigued with, any more than the poor duke can be expected to keep a list in his memory of the different persons he has sent to a prison? He would require a prodigious recollection for such a purpose." This unfeeling reply filled me with indignation, and redoubled the pity I already felt for the poor prisoners. I immediately despatched a note to the duc de Saint Florentin, requesting he would come to me without delay: he hastened to obey my summons. When he had heard my recital he remained silent some minutes, as though collecting his recollections upon the subject, and then replied,
"I do indeed remember that some obscure female was confined in the château of the isle Sainte Marguerite at the request of madame de Pompadour, but I cannot now say, whether at the death of the marchioness any person thought of interceding for her release."
"That is precisely what I wish to ascertain," cried I; "return to your offices, monsieur le duc, and use your best endeavors to discover whether this unfortunate girl and her parent are still in confinement; nor venture again in my presence until you have despatched the order for their deliverance: you will procure a conveyance for them from their prison to Paris at the expense of government. You understand, my lord?"
The following morning the duke brought me the desired information. He told me, that the father had been dead seven years, but the daughter still remained a prisoner: the order for restoring her to liberty had been forwarded the night preceding. I will now briefly relate the end of this mournful story.
Three weeks after this I received an early visit from the duc de la Vrillière, who came to apprize me, that my protégée from the isle of St. Marguerite was in my antechamber awaiting permission to offer me her grateful thanks. I desired she might instantly be admitted; her appearance shocked me; not a single trace of that beauty which had proved so fatal to its possessor now remained. She was pale, emaciated, and her countenance, on which care and confinement had imprinted the wrinkles of premature old age, was sad and dejected even to idiocy. I could have wished that madame de Pompadour, by way of punishment for her cruelty, could but have seen the object of her relentless persecution. I think she would have blushed for herself. When the poor girl entered my apartment she looked wildly around her, and casting herself at my feet, inquired with many tears to what motive she was indebted for my generous interference in her behalf. The duc de la Vrillière contemplated with the utmost sang froid the spectacle of a misery he had so largely contributed to. I requested of him to leave us to ourselves. I then raised my weeping protégée, consoled her to the best of my ability, and then requested her to give me the history of her captivity. Her story was soon told: she had been an inhabitant of the same prison for seventeen years and five months, without either seeing a human being, or hearing the sound of a human voice. Her recital made me shudder, and I promised her that henceforward her life should be rendered as happy as it had hitherto been miserable.
The king supped with me that evening. By some singular chance he was on this occasion in the happiest temper possible: he laughed, sung, joked with such unusual spirits, that I hesitated ere I disturbed a gaiety to which Louis XV was so little prone. However, I took him aside, saying, "Sire, I have to ask atonement and reparation for a most horrible piece of injustice." After which, I proceeded to acquaint him with the distressing history of his unfortunate mistress. He appeared perfectly well to recollect the female to whom I alluded; and when I ceased speaking, he said, with a half-suppressed sigh,
"Poor creature! she has indeed been unfortunate; seventeen years and five months in prison! The duc de la Vrillière is greatly to blame in the affair; but when once he has placed persons between four walls, he thinks he has fulfilled the whole of his duty. He should recollect, that a good memory is a necessary qualification for situation he holds; it is indeed an imperative duty in him to think of the poor wretches he deprives of their liberty."
"And in you too, sire," interrupted I; "and it appears to me that you have lost sight of it, in the present affair, as culpably as your minister."
"I confess it, indeed," answered Louis XV; "but the unfortunate sufferer herself was not without a due share of blame in the matter. Her presumption had greatly irritated madame de Pompadour, who punished her as she thought fit: of course I could not, consistently with the regard I professed for the marchioness, interfere in the execution of her vengeance."
"I do not agree with you," said I.
"Why, what else could I do?" asked Louis XV, with the most imperturbable calmness; "she had superior claims, was acknowledged as chief favorite, and I could not refuse her the sacrifice of a mere temporary caprice."
"Very well said," answered I, "and founded upon excellent principles; but surely it was not necessary to shut up the object of your caprice in a state prison, and, above all, to leave her there for such a length of time. However, the mischief is done; and all we have to think of is to repair it. You have now, sire, a fine opportunity of displaying your royal munificence."
"You think, then," returned Louis XV, "that I am bound to make this unhappy girl some present? Well, I will; to-morrow I will send her 10,000 louis."
"A thousand louis!" exclaimed I, clasping my hands; "what, as a recompense for seventeen years' imprisonment? No, no, sire, you shall not get off so easily; you must must settle on her a pension of 12,000 livres, and present her with an order for 100,000 more as an immediate supply."
"Bless me!" ejaculated the king, "why all, the girls in my kingdom would go to prison for such a dowry: however, she shall have the pension; but, in truth, my treasury is exhausted."
"Then, sire," returned I, "borrow of your friends."
"Come, come, let us finish this business; I will give your protégée 4000 louis."
"No, I cannot agree," answered I, "to less than 5000."
The king promised me I should have them; and, on the following day, his valet Turpigny brought me the order for the pension, and a bag, in which I found only 4000 louis. This piece of meanness did not surprise me, but it made me shrug up my shoulders, and sent me to my cabinet to take the sum deficient from my own funds. With this dowry my poor protégée soon found a suitable husband in the person of one of her cousins, for whom I procured a lucrative post under government. These worthy people have since well repaid me by their grateful and devoted attachment for the service I was enabled to render them. One individual of their family was, however, far from resembling them either in goodness of heart or generosity of sentiment—I allude to the brother of the lady; that same brother who formerly supplied his sister with his clothes, that she might visit the king unsuspected. Upon the incarceration of the father the son succeeded him in his office of valet de chambre, and acquired considerable credit at court; yet, although in the daily habit of seeing the king, he neither by word nor deed sought to obtain the deliverance of either his parent or sister. On the contrary, he suffered the former to perish in a dungeon, and allowed the latter to languish in one during more than seventeen years, and in all probability she would have ended her days without receiving the slightest mark of his recollection of his unfortunate relative. I know no trait of base selfishness more truly revolting than the one I have just related.
But this story has led me far from the subject I was previously commencing: this narrative, which I never call to mind without a feeling of pleasure, has led me away in spite of myself. Still I trust that my narrative has been sufficiently interesting to induce you to pardon the digression it has occasioned, and now I will resume the thread of my discourse.
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
Have you any curiosity to learn the dénouement of the story I was telling you of my anonymous correspondent? Read what follows, then, and your wishes shall be gratified: that is, if you have patience to hear a rather long story; for I cannot promise you that mine will very speedily be completed. Let me see: where did I leave off? Oh, I recollect.
I was telling you that madame de Mirepoix urged me to repair, as I was requested, to the Baths of Apollo. I had a key which opened all the park gates; we entered the park, took the path which turns off to the left, and after having walked for about five minutes, found ourselves opposite the person we were in search of. It was a female of from thirty to forty years of age, of diminutive stature, dressed after the fashion of the bourgeoises of the day, but still an air of good taste was evident through the simplicity of her attire. Her countenance must once have been handsome, if one might judge by the beauty of her eyes and mouth, but she was pale, withered and already impressed with the traces of a premature old age. But her beauties, although faded, were still animated by a quick and ever-varying expression of a keen and lively wit.
Whilst I made these hasty remarks the stranger saluted me, and afterwards the maréchale de Mirepoix, with a ease of manner which perfectly surprised me. Nor did she in any other instance betray the embarrassment of a person who finds herself for the first time in the presence of persons of a rank superior to her own.
"Madam," she said, addressing herself to me, "I trust you will pardon me for having given you the trouble of coming hither; I might have spared it you, had your people permitted me to see you when I called at your house yesterday."
"Your invitation," replied I, "was so pressingly enforced, that I confess my curiosity has been most keenly awakened."
"I will immediately satisfy it," answered she, "but what I have to say must be told to yourself alone."
"Well, then," said the maréchale, "I will leave you for the present: I am going to admire that fine group of Girardon"; and so saying, she quitted the walk in which I was standing.
Directly she was gone the stranger said to me, "Madam, I will explain myself without reserve or unnecessary prolixity; I beseech of you to listen attentively whilst I tell you, in the first place, that both your life and that of the king is in imminent danger."
"Heavens!" cried I, "what do I hear?"
"That which I well know to be true," answered the female, with a firm voice; "I repeat that your life and that of the king is in danger."
These words, pronounced in a low, solemn voice, froze me with terror; my limbs tottered under me, and I almost sank to the ground. The stranger assisted me to a bench, offered me her arm, and when she saw me a little recovered, she continued,
"Yes, madam, a conspiracy is afoot against yourself and Louis XV. You are to be made away with out of revenge, and Louis XV is to suffer, in the hopes of his death effecting a change in the present face of affairs."
"And who," inquired I, "are the conspirators?"
"The Jesuits and parliamentarians; these ancient rivals, equally persecuted by the royal government, have determined to make common cause against their mutual foe. The Jesuits flatter themselves that the dauphin inherits the kind feelings entertained by his father for their order, and the parliamentarians justly reckon upon the friendly disposition of the young prince towards the old magistracy. Both parties equally flatter themselves that a fresh reign would bring about their re-establishment, and they are impatient to accelerate so desirable an event: the conspiracy is directed by four Jesuits and the same number of the ex-members of the parliament of Paris. The remainder of the two corporations are not initiated in the secret of the enterprise. I am not able at present to give you the names of the eight conspirators, the person from whom I derive my information not having as yet confided them even to myself, but I trust ere long to obtain such a mark of confidence."
The female ceased speaking, and I remained in a state of doubt, fear, and alarm, impossible to describe. Still one thing appeared clear to me, that information so mysteriously conveyed was not deserving of belief, unless supported by more corroborating testimony. My unknown friend evidently divined all that was passing in my mind, for she observed,
"I perceive that my recital appears to you improbable; one particular which I will state may perhaps overcome your incredulity. Are you not in the habit, madam, of taking every evening eau sucrée mixed with a large proportion of orange-flower water?"
"I am," replied I.
"This day," continued my informant, "you will receive four bottles of orange-flower water contained in a box bearing the usual appearances of having come from the perfumers', but it is sent by other hands, and the liquor contained in the flasks is mingled with a deadly poison."
These last words made me tremble. "You must complete your kind offices," cried I to my visitor, "by bringing me acquainted with the person from whom you have derived your intelligence: that individual must be acquainted with the whole of the plot; and, believe me, I will not be unmindful of either of you."
"Stay one instant," replied the lady, without evincing the slightest emotion; "the man who was my informant is assuredly aware of the names of those concerned in the conspiracy, but he has charged me not to state who he is but upon certain conditions; a recommendation I shall most certainly attend to."
"Be assured," interrupted I, "that your demands shall be acceded to; you shall yourself fix the price of your entire disclosure of every fact connected with the business."
"It will not be an exorbitant one," replied the lady; "merely 600,000 francs, to be equally divided between the friend you desire to know and myself; for this sum, which is not a very large one, you may command the services of both of us. One word more, madam, and I am gone. Observe a strict silence upon all I have told you; or, if you must have a counsellor in such perilous circumstances, confide merely in some tried friend; say the duc d'Aiguillon or the chancellor, or both should you deem it necessary; but have a care how you admit a third to a participation of the affair; you could scarcely select another person without choosing one already corrupted by your enemies. It is said that they are in correspondence with even those persons immediately about the person of the king. Adieu, madam; I will see you at your own apartments the day after to-morrow, when I trust you will have ready 100,000 francs, on account of the 600,000 I have stipulated for."
So saying, she curtsied and left me, overcome with surprise. A thousand fearful ideas pressed upon my brain, and my heart sickened at the long train of gloomy images which presented themselves. I had had sufficient proofs since my elevation of the deadly hatred borne me by those whom my good fortune had rendered my enemies: yet, hitherto, my strongest apprehensions had never been directed to anything more terrible than being supplanted in the favor of the king, or being confined in my château du Lucienne. The horrible ideas of murder, poison, or assassination by any means, had never presented themselves to me. All at once I recollected the young man in the garden of the Tuileries; his predictions of my future greatness had been accomplished. He had also announced to me fearful vicissitudes, and had threatened to appear to me when these catastrophes were about to occur. Doubtless he would keep his word; now was the time for so doing, and I timidly glanced around as I caught the sound of a slight rustle among the branches, fully expecting to see my young prophet; but the figure which met my eye was that of madame de Mirepoix, who, tired of waiting, had come to rejoin me.
"What!" said she, "are you alone? I did not observe your visitor leave you. Did she vanish into air?"
"Very possibly," answered I.
"So then," replied the maréchale, "she proved a fairy, or some beneficent génie, after all?"
"If she were a spirit," said I, "it certainly was not to the better sort she belonged."
"Have a care," cried the maréchale; "I have already formed a thousand conjectures as to what this woman has been telling."
"And all your suppositions," replied I, "would fall short of the reality. Listen, my dear maréchale," added I, rising, and taking her arm to proceed homewards, "I have been strictly prohibited from admitting any counsellor but the duc d'Aiguillon and the chancellor; still I can have no reserves with you, who I know, f rom the regard you bear both to the king and myself, will advise me to the best of your power."
As we walked towards the château, I explained to my companion the joint conspiracy of the Jesuits and ancient members of the parliament against the king's life and my own. When I had ceased speaking, she replied,
"All this is very possible; despair may conduct the Jesuits and parliamentarians to the greatest extremities; but still this mysterious female may be nothing more than an impostor. At any rate, I am anxious to learn whether the box she described has been left at your house; if so, it will be a strong corroboration, if not, a convincing proof of the falsehood of what she asserts."
We had by this time reached the bottom of the staircase which conducted to my apartments; we ascended the stairs rapidly, and the first person I met in the anteroom was Henriette.
"Henriette," said I, "has any thing been brought for me during my absence?"
"Nothing except a box of orange-flower water from Michel the perfumer's, which I presume you ordered, madam."
A glance of mutual surprise and consternation passed between the maréchale and myself. We entered my chamber, where madame de Mirepoix opened the fatal box; it contained the four bottles exactly as had been described. We regarded each other in profound silence, not daring to communicate our reflections. However, it was requisite to take some steps, and, catching up a pen, I hastily wrote the following billet to the duc d'Aiguillon,
"MONSIEUR LE DUC,—Whatever may be the affairs with which you are at present occupied, I pray of you to throw them aside, and hasten to me instantly upon receipt of this. Nothing can equal in importance the subject upon which I wish to see you; I cannot now explain myself fully, but prepare for news of the most horrible description, and it refers to the safety and preservation of the most valuable life in the kingdom. I cannot delay time by writing more; I can only beseech of you not to lose one moment in obeying this summons. Adieu; fail not to come and bring me back this note."
The duke hastened to me full of terror and alarm.
"Your letter has really frightened me," said he; "what can be the matter? Surely the life of his majesty is not in danger?"
"Too truly is it," answered I; "but sit down, and you shall know all the affair. The maréchale is already aware of the matter and need not withdraw."
The duke listened with extreme attention to the recital of my interview in the grove surrounding the Baths of Apollo, as well as to the account of the discourse I had held there with the strange female. I endeavoured to relate the conversation as minutely and accurately as possible, but still the duke sought further particulars. He inquired the style of countenance, dress, manner, and tone of voice possessed by the incognita. One might have supposed, by the closeness of his questions, that he already fancied he had identified this mysterious personage: he then examined the box, which stood on the table, and remarked, "This is a very serious affair, nor can I undertake the management of it alone; it involves a too great responsibility. Spite of the lady's assertions, I am confident the fullest confidence might be placed in all the ministers. However, I will first have a conference with M. de Saint-Florentin and the chancellor, in whose presence I will send for the lieutenant of police; and the contents of these bottles shall be immediately analyzed."
The duke, without quitting me, wrote immediately to his two colleagues as well as to M. de Sartines, requesting this latter to repair to my apartment without delay. One of the ministers summoned by M. d'Aiguillon was not at that moment at Versailles, having left at an early hour in the morning for Paris. Neither he nor M. de Sartines could possibly be with us before eight o'clock in the evening; it was therefore agreed to adjourn our conference till their arrival. Meanwhile M. d'Aiguillon, the maréchale, and myself, remained in a state of the most cruel anxiety. The duke first blamed me for not having caused the woman to be arrested, and afterwards he confessed to the maréchale, that perhaps it was better the conspiracy should be allowed time to ripen into maturity. Daring this time the liquid contained in the four bottles was being decomposed: M. Quesnay, first physician, Messrs. Thiebault and Varennes, visiting physicians, M. de la Martinière, counsellor of state, surgeon to his majesty, as well as Messrs. Ducor and Prost, apothecaries to his majesty, had been collected together for this purpose by the duc d'Aiguillon.
These gentlemen came to report the termination of their experiments at the very moment when the chancellor and lieutenant of police entered the room; the duc de la Vrillière had preceded them by about five minutes; the duc d'Aiguillon requested these gentlemen to be seated. The doctors Quesnay and la Martinière were introduced, and desired to make known the result of their operations. My newly-arrived guests, who as yet understood nothing of what was going on, were struck with astonishment at hearing it said, that the four bottles of orange-flower water contained a considerable proportion of a most active poison, of which a few drops would be sufficient to cause instantaneous death. Having thus executed their commission, the medical gentlemen bowed and retired.
M. d'Aiguillon then explained to my wondering friends the horrible affair which had occasioned their being sent for so hastily. I cannot tell you what effect this disclosure produced on M. de la Vrillière or M. de Maupeou, my whole attention being fixed upon M. de Sartines. You may suppose that a lieutenant of police, particularly one who piqued himself upon knowing every thing, could not feel very much at his ease, when each word that was uttered convicted him either of incapacity or negligence. His brow became contracted, he hemmed, choked, fidgeted about, and appeared as though he would have given every thing in the world f or liberty to justify himself, but etiquette forbade it, and he was only permitted to speak after the secretaries of state then present, or if called upon by either of them.
When M. d'Aiguillon had ceased speaking, the chancellor in his turn took up the conversation. M. de Maupeou was by nature cold and sarcastic, delighting in annoying any person; but, on the present occasion, the ill-nature inherent in him was still excited by the decided hatred he bore to the unfortunate M. de Sartines. He began by saying, that the conspiracy was evident, and was easily explained by the state of exasperation in which the Jesuits and parliamentarians now were; both orders looking for no other prospect of amendment in their condition than such as might arise from some sudden convulsion of the kingdom. He expressed his opinion of the necessity of instituting a rigorous inquiry into the conduct of these two bodies; and then, turning to M. de Sartines, whose cheek grew pale at the movement, he charged him to lay before the council all those particulars which he must necessarily possess as head of the police, either respecting the present plot, or relating to any of the ancient members of parliament or the order of Jesuits.
This was a dagger to the heart of M. de Sartines, who in vain sought to frame a suitable reply: but what could he say? He did not in reality possess any of the information for which he had received credit, and after many awkward endeavours at explaining himself, he was compelled frankly to confess, that he knew not a word more of the conspiracy than he had just then heard.
It was now the turn of M. de la Vrillière to speak. He also would fain have attacked the unfortunate lieutenant of police; but, whether M. de Maupeou thought that his own correction had been sufficiently strong, or whether he begrudged any other person interfering with his vengeance upon his personal foe, he abruptly interrupted the tirade of M. de la Vrillière, by observing, that a conspiracy conducted by only eight persons might very possibly escape the eye of the police; but, furnished as it now was with so many circumstances and particulars, it was impossible that the plot should any longer defy their vigilant researches.
M. d'Aiguillon fully concurred in this observation, and M. de Sartines, recovered in some measure from his first alarm, promised every thing they could desire; and it was finally arranged that the police should this night use every precautionary measure in Paris, and that the officers of the guard should receive orders to redouble their zeal and activity in watching the château; and that when the unknown female called again on me, she should be conducted by madame de Mirepoix to the duc d'Aiguillon, who would interrogate her closely.
These measures decided on, the council broke up, and I went to receive the king, who was this evening to do me the favour of taking his supper in my apartments.