"True enough," said the king, "I prefer the duc de la Vauguyon: he has a good reputation—"

"And well deserved," said the old maréchal, sneering. "Yes, sire, he is a pious man; at least, he plays his part well."

"Peace, viper; you spare nobody."

"Sire, I am only taking my revenge."

"Why do you not like the governor of my grandsons?"

"In truth, sire, I must confess to you, that except yourself and the ladies, I have not many likings at Versailles."

Louis XV smiled, and I pulled the bell; when a valet appeared, I said,

"Go and find M. de la Vauguyon for his majesty."

When we were alone, "What, already? "said Louis XV.

"Madame is right," replied the duke, "we must strike while the iron is hot."

The king began to pace up and down the room, which was his invariable custom when anything disturbed him: then suddenly stopping,

"I should not be astonished at a point blank refusal from M. de la Vauguyon."

"Oh, sire, make yourself easy; the governor has no inclination to follow the steps of Montausier or Beauvilliers. In truth you are very candid; and I must tell you, that you have too good an opinion of us."

At this moment M. de la Vauguyon entered. He saluted the king with humility; and asked him, in a mild tone of voice, what his pleasure was with him.

"A real mark of your zeal," was the king's reply.

"And of your gallantry," added the maréchal, who saw the hesitation of the king. Louis XV was enchanted that another should speak for him. M. de Richelieu continued:

"His majesty, monsieur le duc, wishes that you should prepare mesdames to receive our dear countess here, when she shall appear before them to pay the homage of her respect and devotion."

The king, emboldened by these words, said, "Yes, my dear duke, I can only find you in the château who have any influence over the princesses, my daughters. They have much respect, and no less friendship, for you. You will easily bring them to reason."

As M. de la Vauguyon seemed in no hurry to undertake the charge, the maréchal added,

"Yes, sir, to manage this business properly, you and M. de Senlis are the only men in the kingdom."

The maréchal had his reasons for saying this, for a secret jealousy existed between the governor and the grand almoner. M. de la Vauguyon made haste to say, that he could not resist his majesty's orders, and his desire to be agreeable to me.

"Ah! you will then do something for me?" I replied. "I am delighted and proud."

"Madame," replied the duke with much gravity, "friends are proved on occasion."

"The present one proves your attachment to me," said I in my turn; "and his majesty will not think it wrong of me, if, as a recompense, I embrace you in his presence": and, on saying this, I went up to the duc de la Vauguyon, and gave him two kisses, which the poor man took as quietly as possible.

"That's well," said the king. "You are, la Vauguyon, a man of a thousand. Listen attentively to me. I wish much that the comtesse du Barry should be presented; I wish it, and that, too, in defiance of all that can be said and done. My indignation is excited beforehand against all those who shall raise any obstacle to it. Do not fail to let my daughters know, that if they do not comply with my wishes, I will let my anger fall heavily on all persons by whose counsels they may be persuaded; for I only am master, and I will prove it to the last. These are your credentials, my dear duke, add to them what you may think fitting; I will bear you out in any thing—"

"Mercy!" said the duc de Richelieu to me in an undertone, "the king has poured forth all his energy in words; he will have none left to act upon if he meets with any resistance." The maréchal knew the king well.

"I doubt not, sire," replied the duc de la Vauguyon, "that the respectful duty of mesdames will be ready to comply with your desires."

"I trust and believe it will prove so," replied the king hastily. "I am a good father, and would not that my daughters should give me cause to be angry with them. Let madame Adélaïde understand, that she has lately had a mistaken opinion of me, and that she has an opportunity of repairing her error in the present instance. The princesses are not ignorant that I have often shut my eyes upon certain affairs—. Enough; they must now testify their attachment for me. Why should they oppose the presentation of the comtesse? Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! they were not so squeamish in the days of madame de Pompadour."

At these latter words I could not forbear laughing. La Vauguyon and de Richelieu left us and here the conversation terminated.

The next morning they brought me a note from the duc de la Vauguyon. Thus it ran:—

"MADAME,—Ready to serve you, I wish to have a few minutes' conversation with you. Be persuaded that I will not tell you anything but what will be agreeable and useful to you."

I instantly answered:—

"You are too good a friend for me to refuse to see you willingly under any circumstances, and particularly the present. Your conduct yesterday assures you my eternal regard. Come instantly; my grateful heart expects you with impatience."

My sister-in-law, to whom I showed this correspondence, said to me, "This gentleman does not come to see you for your bright eyes; and yet his visit is not disinterested."

"What interest can he have to serve?"

"None of his own, perhaps; but those villainous Jesuits."

"Don't you like them, sister of mine?"

"I hate nobody."

M. de la Vauguyon arrived; and as soon as we were alone, he said to me,

"Well, madame, I am now on the point of going to fight your battles. I have to deal with a redoubtable foe."

"Do you fear?"

"Why, I am not over confident; my position is a delicate one. Mesdames will perforce obey the orders of the king, but they will not find much pleasure in seeing me the ambassador sent to them: all the Choiseul party will vociferate loudly. Nevertheless, to prove my devotion to you, I brave it all."

"You may rely on it that I will never forget the service you are about to render me."

"I have only one favor to ask of you. Authorize me to say to mesdames, that if the pleasures of life distract your attention from religious duties, your soul is in truth fully devoted to our holy religion; and that far from supporting the philosophers, you will aid, by your influence with the king, every measure advantageous to the society of Jesuits."

The hypocritical tone in which this was uttered, almost compelled me to burst out into a fit of laughter; but the serious posture of my affairs induced me to preserve my gravity, and I answered in a serious tone,

"Not only, monsieur le duc, do I authorize you to say so much, but I beg you to declare to mesdames that I am already filled with love and respect for the Jesuits, and that it will not be my fault if they do not return amongst us."

"Ah, you are a treasure of wisdom," replied the duke, kissing my hand with fervor; "and I am disgusted at the way you are calumniated."

"I know no reason for it, for I have never done harm to any person. Assure mesdames that I am sincerely grieved that I am not agreeable to them, and would give half my life to obtain, not their friendship, of which I do not feel myself worthy, but their indifference. Deign also to tell them, that at all times I am at their disposal, and beseech them to consider me as their humble servant."

"It is impossible to behave more correctly than you do; and I am confident that mesdames will soon discard their unjust prejudices. Thus, it is well understood that our friends will be yours."

"Yes, yes, provided they are really mine."

"Certainly. I answer for them as I answer for you."

And thus, my friend, did I find myself allied to the Jesuitical party.

The duke commenced the attack with madame Louise, the most reasonable of the king's daughters. This angelic princess, already occupied with the pious resolution which she afterwards put into execution in the following year, contented herself with saying some words on the commotion occasioned by my presence at Versailles, and then, as if her delicacy had feared to touch on such a subject, she asked the duc de la Vauguyon, if the king ordered her to receive the comtesse du Barry.

"Yes, madame," replied the duke; "it is the express will of his majesty."

"I submit to his wish: the lady may come when she will."

The duke, contented with his success so far, went next to madame Sophie. This princess was not unkind, but subject to attacks of the nerves, which from time to time soured her natural disposition: she had her caprices of hatred, her fits of love. The day when the duke talked to her of my presentation she was very much provoked against me; and after the opening speech of the ambassador, flung in his teeth the report of the apartments, which I have already told you. The duke explained to her, and that too without saying anything unfavorable of madame Adélaïde, and concluded by begging her to concede the favor I besought. Madame eluded this, by saying, that before she gave a definite reply she wished to confer with her sisters.

Madame Victoire was not more easily persuaded. This princess had amiable qualities, solid virtues which made her loved and respected by the whole court; but she had but little will of her own, and allowed herself to be led by the Choiseuls; who, to flatter her, told her that she alone had inherited the energy of her grandfather, Louis XIV. She was advised to display it in this instance, and, she would willingly have done so. The comtesse de Bercheny, one of her ladies in waiting, was the person who urged her on to the greatest resistance. This lady did not cease to exclaim against me, and to fan the flame of displeasure which, but for her, would never have appeared. I was informed of the mode adopted by madame de Bercheny to injure me. I sent for M. Bertin, who was devoted to my service, and begged him to go and speak to the lady; he went, and made her understand that the king, enraged against her, would expel her from Versailles, if she were not silent. The comtesse de Bercheny was alarmed; and under pretence of taking a tour, left the court for a month. You will see anon the result of all these conferences.

CHAPTER XIV

The princesses consent to the presentation of madame du Barry— Ingenious artifice employed by the king to offer a present to the duc de la Vauguyon—Madame du Barry's letter respecting it—The duke's reply—The king's letter—The court in despair—Couplets concerning madame du Barry—Her presentation—A change in public opinion—An evening party at the house of the countess—Joy of her partizans—Conversation with the chancellor respecting the lady of the maréchal de Mirepoix

The departure of the comtesse de Bercheny was announced to the princesses in the manner least likely to provoke their regrets. Nevertheless, a rumor never slept at Versailles, a whisper was quickly circulated thro'-out the castle, that this sudden and unexpected journey had originated in the king's weariness of her continual philippics against me; and it was clearly comprehended by all, that a similar disgrace would be the portion of those who should offend the monarch whilst seeking to procure my humiliation. This show of firmness was sufficient to repress the daring flights of those self-constituted heroines, whose courage lasted only whilst the king was silent, and who trembled like a leaf before the slightest manifestation of his will. Still the cabal against me, tho' weakened, was not destroyed; it was too strong for the present shock to dissolve it; and altho' none was sufficiently hardy to declare open war, plots were constantly going on to ensnare me.

Meanwhile madame Victoire, left to herself, could not long support such excessive animosity; and the duc de la Vauguyon profiting by the species of lassitude into which she appeared to have fallen, led her without difficulty to act in conformity to the king's wishes.

There remained now therefore but madame Adélaïde to overcome, and the task became more difficult in proportion to the elevated rank she occupied at court. By priority of birth she held the first place there; and hitherto this superiority had been ceded to her without dispute, more particularly since the hand of death had removed both the queen her mother, and the dauphiness her sister-in-law. She therefore could only view with uneasiness the prospect of another appearing on the stage whose influence would be greater than hers; and who (until the young dauphiness should attain to years of maturity) might deprive her of all honors but those due to her birth. Madame Adélaïde was gifted with good sense, affability of manners, and a kind and compassionating heart towards all who needed her aid; her disposition was good, but she loved dominion, and the least show of resistance to her wishes was painful and offensive to her. She was determined to uphold the duc de Choiseul; and my decided manner towards that minister plainly evinced how little I should feel inclined to support her view of things. There were therefore several reasons for my presence at court being unpleasant to madame Adélaïde.

Against her therefore did the duc de la Vauguyon direct his batteries. She received his attack with the most determined obstinacy; all was in vain, she was unconquerable, and the most skilfully devised plans were insufficient to surmount her resistance; it was therefore necessary to have recourse to the clergy, who were at that time completely led by the Jesuits; each member of the church, up to the archbishop of Paris, was called upon to interfere, or their names were employed in default of their presence. It was pointed out to madame Adélaïde that I possessed good intentions with feelings of religion, which, however stifled by the freedom of the age, only required careful management to produce a rich development. The success of this last mode of attack astonished the duke himself; and madam, dazzled by the hopes of my conversion, as well as weary of hostilities, yielded her consent to my being presented. After these private negotiations the four sisters met at the house of the elder one; and there they decided that since the king had so expressly manifested his pleasure relative to my presentation, they should conform to the desire of their father, by receiving me with every possible mark of courtesy.

The duc de la Vauguyon hastened to communicate to me this happy state of things; and my joy was so great, that I embraced him with the sincerest warmth, assuring him that I should always look upon him as my best friend, and seek to testify my regard at every opportunity that fell in my way of forwarding his interests.

Some days afterwards the king brought me a splendid ring, worth thirty-six thousand livres.

"You must send this jewel to your good friend the duke," said he.

"I dare not," replied I. "I fear lest it should draw forth his displeasure."

"No, no," cried the king, "'tis not the fashion at court to construe gifts like this into insults, but I should wish this trifle to be presented in an indirect manner"; and, after having considered a moment, "I have it," exclaimed he, "I have thought of a clever expedient; let us put this ring upon the finger of that Chinese mandarin before us, and give the figure with the ring, considering it merely an appendage to it. Assuredly the most disinterested man cannot refuse to accept a china figure."

I extolled the king's idea as being a most happy one; and he immediately fitted the ring upon the little finger of the mandarin, which I caused to be carried to the duc de la Vauguyon with the following billet:—

"MONSIEUR LE DUC,—You have been my best friend; 'tis to your kind offices that I owe the confirmation of my happiness; but I would secure the continuance of your valuable friendship, and for that purpose I send you a little magical figure, which, placed in your cabinet, will compel your thoughts to occupy themselves with me in spite of yourself. I am superstitious enough to rely greatly upon the talismanic virtue of the charmed porcelain; and further, I must tell you, that I was not its purchaser in the first instance, neither did I adorn it for your acceptance. I should not have ventured to offer more than the assurance of my everlasting esteem and regard for your acceptance. The trifle sent comes from a higher source; and the august hand so dear to both of us, deigned to preside over the arrangement. Should there be in it anything at all repugnant to your feelings, I beseech you bear me no ill will for it; for truly, I may say, I should never have summoned courage to do that which has just been done by him whom all unite in loving and esteeming."

The duke replied,—

"Your talisman is welcome; yet its magic power, far from augmenting the warmth of my feelings towards you, would have diminished it on account of a certain accessory with which my friendship could have well dispensed: however, what you say on the subject closes my lips. I gratefully acknowledge the daily favors bestowed upon me from the august hand of whom you speak; and I receive with the deepest respect (mingled with regret) the gracious present he deigns to convey to me by you. I own that I should have preferred, to the splendid jewel which bedecked the finger of your deity, a Chinese counterpart, which might indeed have enabled all admiring gazers to say, 'these two are truly a pair.' As for yourself, who would fain pass for nobody in the munificent gift, I thank you at least for the flattering place you assign me in your recollection. Be assured I feel its full value, and you may confidently reckon upon the disposal of my poor credit as well as command the little influence I may be said to possess in the castle. Adieu, madame, I entreat your acceptance of the expression of my most sincere and respectful devotion."

The king, having read M. de la Vauguyon's letter, sent immediately to the china manufactory to purchase the fellow mandarin so much coveted by the duke, and caused it to be conveyed to him with the following words:—

"MY DEAR GOVERNOR—You are a kind-hearted creature I know, and a great promoter of domestic harmony; to fain unite the wife with the husband. Heaven grant that such a measure may indeed bring about your proposed felicity! However, by way of furthering your schemes, I send the Chinese lady, whose beauty I trust will not disturb your repose, for in spite of your sanctity, I know you can be as gallant as the rest of us, and possibly this beautiful mandarin may prove to be more lovely in your eyes, than in those of the husband for whom she is destined; but, in sober earnestness, I would wish you to be convinced that my intention is not to attempt payment for the services rendered me, but simply to evince my sense of their value. There is one beside me at this moment who has given me a kiss to transmit to you—You will easily guess who has had the audacity to enlist me into her service upon such an occasion."

This was one of the recompenses offered to the duc de la Vauguyon, as a compensation for the public clamor and dislike which sprung up against him in consequence of his zeal for my service. At Versailles, the general ferment was at its height, when it became generally known that I had triumphed over all obstacles, and that my presentation was certainly to take place. In the midst of all this the desperate odium fell upon the duc de la Vauguyon, and a general attack was made upon him: his virtues, reputation, talents, qualities, were made the subject of blame and scandal—in a word, he was run down by public opinion. But the leaders of the cabal were not the less struck by the news of my success, which sounded in their ears like the falling of a thunder-bolt.

The silly princess de Gueméné, who, with her husband, has since become a bankrupt to so enormous and scandalous an amount, flew without delay to convey the tidings of my victory to the duchesse de Grammont, to whom it was a death-blow. All her courage forsook her; she shed bitter tears, and displayed a weakness so much the more ridiculous, as it seemed to arise from the utmost despair. She repaired to madame Adélaïde, before whom she conducted herself in the most absurd and extravagant manner. The poor princess, intimidated by the weakness she herself evinced, in drawing back after she had in a manner espoused the opposite party, durst not irritate her, but, on the contrary, strove to justify her own change of conduct towards me, by urging the impossibility of refusing obedience to the express command of the king.

The other princesses did not evince greater firmness when overwhelmed by the complaints of the cabal, and in a manner bent their knee before the wives of the French nobility, asking their pardon for their father's error in selecting a mistress from any rank but theirs. About this period a song, which I admired greatly, was circulated abroad. My enemies interpreted it to my disadvantage, but I was far from being of the same opinion. It was successively attributed to the most clever men in Paris, and I have myself met with four who each asserted himself to be the author; in justice it should be ascribed to him who appeared the most calculated to have written it, and who indeed claimed it for his own—the chevalier de Boufflers. I do not know whether you recollect the lines in question. I will transcribe them from memory, adding another couplet, which was only known amongst our own particular circle, but which proves most incontestably the spirit of kindness with which the stanzas were composed.

This song was to be found in almost every part of France. Altho' the last couplet was generally suppressed, so evident was its partial tone towards me, in the midst of it all I could not help being highly amused with the simplicity evinced by the good people of France, who, in censuring the king's conduct, found nothing reprehensible but his having omitted to select his mistress from elevated rank.

The citizens resented this falling off in royalty with as much warmth and indignation as the grandees of the court; and I could enjoy a laugh on the subject of their angry displeasure as soon as my presentation was decided upon.

The intrigues carried on by those about the princesses, and the necessity of awaiting the perfect recovery of madame de Bearn, delayed this (to me) important day till the end of the month of April, 1770. On the evening of the 21st the king, according to custom, announced a presentation for the following day; but he durst not explain himself more frankly; he hesitated, appeared embarrassed, and only pronounced my name in a low and uncertain voice; it seemed as tho' he feared his own authority was insufficient to support him in such a measure. This I did not learn till some time afterwards; and when I did hear it, I took the liberty of speaking my opinion upon it freely to his majesty.

On the next day, the 22d, I was solely engrossed with my dress: it was the most important era of my life, and I would not have appeared on it to any disadvantage. A few days previously, the king had sent me, by the crown jeweller, Boemer, a set of diamonds, valued at 150,000 livres, of which he begged my acceptance. Delighted with so munificent a present I set about the duties of the toilette with a zeal and desire of pleasing which the importance of the occasion well excused. I will spare you the description of my dress; were I writing to a woman I would go into all these details; but as I know they would not be to your taste, I will pass all these uninteresting particulars over in silence, and proceed to more important matter.

Paris and Versailles were filled with various reports. Thro'out the city, within, without the castle, all manner of questions were asked, as tho' the monarchy itself was in danger. Couriers were dispatched every instant with fresh tidings of the great event which was going on. A stranger who had observed the general agitation would easily have remarked the contrast between the rage and consternation of my enemies and the joy of my partizans, who crowded in numbers to the different avenues of the palace, in order to feast their eyes upon the pageantry of my triumphal visit to court.

Nothing could surpass the impatience with which I was expected; hundreds were counting the minutes, whilst I, under the care of my hairdresser and robemaker, was insensible to the rapid flight of time, which had already carried us beyond the hour appointed for my appearance. The king himself was a prey to an unusual uneasiness; the day appeared to him interminable; and the eagerness with which he awaited me made my delay still more apparent. A thousand conjectures were afloat as to the cause of it. Some asserted that my presentation had been deferred for the present, and, in all probability, would never take place; that the princesses had opposed it in the most decided manner, and had refused upon any pretense whatever to admit me to their presence. All these suppositions charmed my enemies, and filled them with hopes which their leaders, better informed, did not partake.

Meanwhile the king's restlessness increased; he kept continually approaching the window to observe what was going on in the court-yard of the castle, and seeing there no symptoms of my equipage being in attendance, began to lose both temper and patience. It has been asserted, that he gave orders to have the presentation put off till a future period, and that the duc de Richelieu procured my entrée by force; this is partly true and partly false. Whilst in ignorance of the real cause of my being so late, the king said to the first gentleman of the chamber,

"You will see that this poor countess has met with some accident, or else that her joy has been too much for her, and made her too ill to attend our court to-day; if that be the case, it is my pleasure that her presentation should not be delayed beyond to-morrow."

"Sire," replied the duke, "your majesty's commands are absolute."

These words, but half understood, were eagerly caught up, and interpreted their own way by those who were eager to seize anything that might tell to my prejudice.

At length I appeared; and never had I been more successful in appearance. I was conducted by my godmother, who, decked like an altar, was all joy and satisfaction to see herself a sharer in such pomp and splendor. The princesses received me most courteously; the affability, either real or feigned, which shone in their eyes as they regarded me, and the flattering words with which they welcomed my arrival, was a mortal blow to many of the spectators, especially to the ladies of honor. The princesses would not suffer me to bend my knee before them, but at the first movement I made to perform this act of homage, they hastened to raise me, speaking to me at the same time in the most gracious manner.

But my greatest triumph was with the king. I appeared before him in all my glory, and his eyes declared in a manner not to be misunderstood by all around him the impetuous love which he felt for me. He had threatened the previous evening to let me fall at his feet without the least effort on his part to prevent it. I told him that I was sure his gallantry would not allow him to act in this manner; and we had laid a bet on the matter. As soon as I approached him, and he took my hand to prevent me, as I began to stoop before him, "You have lost, sire," said I to him.

"How is it possible to preserve my dignity in the presence of so many graces?" was his reply.

These gracious words of his majesty were heard by all around him. My enemies were wofully chagrined; but what perfected their annihilation was the palpable lie which my appearance gave to their false assertions. They had blazoned forth everywhere that my manners were those of a housemaid; that I was absurd and unladylike in my conduct; and that it was only requisite to have a glimpse of me to recognize both the baseness of my extraction, and the class of society in which my life had been hitherto spent.

But I showed manners so easy and so elegant that the people soon shook off their preconceived prejudice against me. I heard my demeanor lauded as greatly as my charms and the splendor of my attire. Nothing could be more agreeable to me. In a word, I obtained complete success, and thenceforward learnt experimentally how much the exterior and a noble carriage add to the consideration in which a person is held. I have seen individuals of high rank and proud behavior who carried no influence in their looks, because their features were plain and common place; whilst persons of low station, whose face was gifted with natural dignity, had only to show themselves to attract the respect of the multitude.

Nothing about me bespoke that I was sprung from a vulgar stock, and thus scandal of that kind ceased from the day of my presentation; and public opinion having done me justice in this particular, slander was compelled to seek for food elsewhere.

That evening I had a large circle at my house. The chancellor, the bishop of Orleans, M. de Saint-Florentin, M. Bertin, the prince de Soubise, the ducs de Richelieu, de la Trimouille, de Duras, d'Aiguillon, and d'Ayen. This last did not hesitate to come to spy out all that passed in my apartments, that he might go and spread it abroad, augmented by a thousand malicious commentaries. I had also M. de Sartines, my brother-in-law, etc. The duc de la Vauguyon alone was absent. I knew beforehand that he would not come, and that it was a sacrifice which he thought himself compelled to make to the cabal. The ladies were mesdames de Bearn and d'Aloigny, with my sisters-in-law. Amongst the ladies presented they were the only ones with whom I had formed any intimacy; as for the rest I was always the "horrible creature," of whom they would not hear on any account.

The king, on entering, embraced me before the whole party. "You are a charming creature," said he to me, "and the brilliancy of your beauty has to-day reminded me of the device of my glorious ancestor."

This was a flattering commencement; the rest of the company chimed in with their master, and each tried to take the first part in the chorus. The duc d'Ayen even talked of my grace of manner. "Ah, sir," said I to him, "I have had time to learn it from Pharamond to the reigning king."

This allusion was bitter, and did not escape the duke, who turned pale in spite of his presence of mind, on finding that I was aware of the malicious repartee which he had made to the king when talking of me, and which I have already mentioned to you. The chancellor said to me,

"You have produced a great effect, but especially have you triumphed over the cabal by the nobility of your manners and the dignity of your mien; and thus you have deprived it of one of its greatest engines of mischief, that of calumniating your person."

"They imagined then," said I to him, "that I could neither speak nor be silent, neither walk nor sit still."

"As they wished to find you ignorant and awkward they have set you down as such. This is human nature: when we hate any one, we say they are capable of any thing; then, that they have become guilty of every thing; and, to wind up all, they adopt for truth to-day what they invented last night."

"Were you not fearful?" inquired the king.

"Forgive me, sire," I answered, "when I say that I feared lest I should not please your majesty; and I was excessively desirous of convincing mesdames of my respectful attachment."

This reply was pronounced to be fitting and elegant, altho' I had not in any way prepared it. The fact is, that I was in great apprehension lest I should displease the king's daughters; and I dreaded lest they should manifest too openly the little friendship which they had towards me. Fortunately all passed off to a miracle, and my good star did not burn dimly in this decisive circumstance.

Amongst those who rejoiced at my triumph I cannot forget the duc d'Aiguillon. During the whole of the day he was in the greatest agitation. His future destiny was, in a measure, attached to my fortune; he knew that his whole existence depended on mine; and he expected from me powerful support to defend him against the pack of his enemies, who were yelping open-mouthed against him. He stood in need of all his strength of mind and equanimity to conceal the disquietude and perplexity by which he was internally agitated.

The comte Jean also participated in this great joy. His situation at court was not less doubtful; he had no longer reason to blush for his alliance with me, and could now form, without excess of presumption, the most brilliant hopes of the splendor of his house. His son, the vicomte Adolphe, was destined to high fortune; and I assure you that I deeply regretted when a violent and premature death took him away from his family. My presentation permitted his father to realize the chimera which he had pursued with so much perseverance. He flattered himself in taking part with me. I did not forget him in the distribution of my rewards; and the king's purse was to him a source into which he frequently dipped with both hands.

The next day I had a visit from the chancellor.

"Now," said he, "you are at the height of your wishes, and we must arrange matters, that the king shall find perpetual and varied amusements, with you. He does not like large parties; a small circle is enough for him; then he is at his ease, and likes to see the same faces about him. If you follow my advice you will have but few females about you, and select that few with discernment."

"How can I choose them at all when I see so very few?" was my reply. "I have no positive intimacy with any court lady; and amongst the number I should be at a loss to select any one whom I would wish to associate with in preference to another."

"Oh, do not let that disturb you," he replied: "they leave you alone now, because each is intent on observing what others may do; but as soon as any one shall pay you a visit, the others will run as fast after you as did the sheep of Panurge. I am greatly deceived if they are not very desirous that one of them shall devote herself, and make the first dash, that they may profit by her pretended fault. I know who will not be the last to come and station herself amongst the furniture of your apartment. The maréchale de Mirepoix was too long the complaisant friend of madame de Pompadour not to become, and that very soon, the friend of the comtesse du Barry."

"Good heaven," I exclaimed, "how delighted I should be to have the friendship of this lady, whose wit and amiable manners are so greatly talked of."

"Yes," said de Maupeou, laughing, "she is a type of court ladies, a mixture of dignity and suppleness, majesty and condescension, which is worth its weight in gold. She was destined from all eternity to be the companion of the king's female friends."

We both laughed; and the chancellor went on to say: "There are others whom I will point out to you by and by; as for this one, I undertake to find out whether she will come first of the party. She has sent to ask an audience of me concerning a suit she has in hand. I will profit by the circumstances to come to an explanation with her, about you. She is not over fond of the Choiseul party; and I augur this, because I see that she puts on a more agreeable air towards them."

CHAPTER XV

The Comte de la Marche, a prince of the blood—Madame de Beauvoir, his mistress—Madame du Barry complains to the prince de Soubise of the princess de Guémenée—The king consoles the countess for this—The duc de Choiseul—The king speaks to him of madame du Barry—Voltaire writes to her—The opinions of Richelieu and the king concerning Voltaire

Amongst those personages who came to compliment me on the evening of my presentation was M. the comte de la Marche, son of the prince du Conti, and consequently prince of the blood. He had long been devoted to the will of Louis XV. As soon as his most serene highness had wind of my favor he hastened to add to the number of my court; and I leave you to imagine how greatly I was flattered at seeing it augmented by so august a personage.

This conquest was most valuable in my eyes, for I thus proved to the world, that by attracting the king to me I did not isolate him from the whole of his family. It is very true that for some time the comte de la Marche had been out of favor with the public, by reason of his over complaisance towards the ministers of the king's pleasure; but he was not the less a prince of the blood, and at Versailles this rank compensated for almost every fault. He was a lively man, moreover, his society was agreeable, and the title he bore reflected his distinction amongst a crowd of courtiers. I felt, therefore, that I ought to consider myself as very fortunate that he deigned to visit me, and accordingly received him with all the civility I could display; and the welcome reception which he always experienced drew him frequently to my abode.

The friendship with which he honored me was not agreeable to my enemies; and they tried by every possible means to seduce him from me. They got his near relations to talk to him about it; his intimate friends to reason with him; the females whom he most admired to dissuade him from it. There was not one of these latter who did not essay to injure me in his estimation, by saying that he dishonored himself by an acquaintance with me. There was amongst others a marquise de Beauvoir, the issue of a petty nobility, whom he paid with sums of gold, altho' she was not his mistress by title. Gained over by the Choiseuls, she made proposals concerning me to the prince of so ridiculous a nature, that he said to her impatiently: "I' faith, my dear, as in the eyes of the world every woman who lives with a man who is not her husband is a ———, so I think a man is wise to choose the loveliest he can find; and in this way the king is at this moment much better off than any of his subjects."

Only imagine what a rage this put the marquise de Beauvoir in: she stormed, wept, had a nervous attack. The comte de la Marche contemplated her with a desperate tranquillity; but this scene continuing beyond the limits of tolerable patience, he was so tired of it that he left her. This was not what the marquise wished; and she hastened to write a submissive letter to him, in which, to justify herself, she confessed to the prince, that in acting against me she had only yielded to the instigations of the cabal, and particularly alluded to mesdames de Grammont and de Guémenée.

The comte de la Marche showed me this letter, which I retained in spite of his resistance and all the efforts he made to obtain possession of it again. My intention was to show it to the king; and I did not fail to give it to him at the next visit he paid me: he read it, and shrugging up his shoulders, as was his usual custom, he said to me,

"They are devils incarnate, and the worst of the kind. They try to injure you in every way, but they shall not succeed. I receive also anonymous letters against you, they are tossed into the post-box in large packets with feigned names, in the hope that they will reach me. Such slanders ought not to annoy you: in the days of madame de Pompadour, the same thing was done. The same schemes were tried to ruin madame de Chateauroux. Whenever I have been suspected of any tenderness towards a particular female, every species of intrigue has been instantly put in requisition. Moreover," he continued, "madame de Grammont attacks you with too much obstinacy not to make me believe but that she would employ all possible means to attain her end."

"Ah," I exclaimed, "because she has participated in your friendship you are ready to support her."

"Do not say so in a loud tone," he replied laughingly; "her joy would know no bounds if she could believe it was in her power to inspire you with jealousy."

"But," I said, "that insolent Guémenée; has she also to plume herself on your favors as an excuse for overpowering me with her hatred, and for tearing me to pieces in the way she does?"

"No," was the king's answer; "she is wrong, and I will desire her father-in-law to say so."

"And I will come to an explanation with the prince de Soubise on this point; and we will see whether or not I will allow myself to have my throat cut like an unresisting sheep."

I did not fail to keep my word. The prince de Soubise came the next morning; chance on that day induced him to be extraordinarily gallant towards me; never had he praised me so openly, or with so much exaggeration. I allowed him to go on; but when at length he had finished his panegyric, "Monsieur le maréchal," said I to him, "you are overflowing with kindness towards me, and I wish that all the members of your family would treat me with the same indulgence."

Like a real courtier he pretended not to understand me, and made no reply, hoping, no doubt, that the warmth of conversation would lead me to some other subject; but this one occupied me too fully to allow me to divert my attention from it; and, seeing that he continued silent, I continued, "madame your daughter-in-law behaves towards me like a declared enemy; she assails me by all sorts of provocation, and at last will so act, that I shall find myself compelled to struggle against her with open force."

You must be a courtier, you must have been in the presence of a king who is flattered from morning to night in all his caprices, to appreciate the frightful state in which my direct attack placed the prince de Soubise. Neither his political instinct, nor the tone of pleasantry which he essayed to assume, nor the more dangerous resource of offended dignity, could extricate him from the embarrassment in which he was thrown by my words. He could do nothing but stammer out a few unintelligible phrases; and his confusion was so great and so visible, that the marquis de Chauvelin, his not over sincere friend, came to his assistance. The king, equally surprised at what I had just said, hastily turned and spoke to Chon, who told me afterwards, that the astonishment of Louis XV had been equal to that of the prince de Soubise, and that he had evinced it by the absence of mind which he had manifested in his discourse and manners.

M. de Chauvelin then turning towards me, said, "Well, madame, on what evil herb have you walked to-day? Can it be possible that you would make the prince, who is your friend, responsible for the hatred which ought to be flattering rather than painful to you, since it is a homage exacted towards your brilliant loveliness?"

"In the first place," I replied, "I have no intention to cast on monsieur le maréchal, whom I love with all my heart, the least responsibility relative to the object of which I complain. I only wished to evince to him the regret I experienced at not seeing all the members of his family like him: this is all. I should be in despair if I thought I had said anything that would wound him; and if I have done so, I most sincerely ask his pardon."

On saying these words I presented my hand to the prince, who instantly kissed it.

"You are," said he, "at the same time cruel and yet most amiable: but if you have the painful advantage of growing old at court, you will learn that my children have not all the deference and respect towards me which they owe to their father; and I often am pained to see them act in a manner entirely opposite to my desires, however openly manifested. If my daughter does not love you, it is to me, most probably, that you must look for the why and wherefore: it is because I love you so much that she is against you. I have committed an error in praising you before her, and her jealousy was not proof against it."

"That is very amiable in you," said I; "and now whatever may be my feelings against the princesse de Guémenée, I will endeavor to dissemble it out of regard for you; and, I assure you, that however little consideration your daughter-in-law may testify towards me, I will show her a fair side: endeavor to make peace between us. I only ask to be let alone, for I do not seek to become the enemy of any person."

Altho' M. de Soubise said that he had no influence over the princesse de Guémenée, I learned, subsequently, that the day after this scene he testified to the Guémenée some fears as to his future destiny at court. He begged her not to oppose herself to me; to be silent with respect to me, and to keep herself somewhat in the shade if she would not make some advances towards me. His daughter-in-law, whose arrogance equalled her dissipation and dissolute manners, replied, that she was too much above a woman of my sort to fear or care for me; that my reign at the château would be but brief, whilst hers would only terminate with her life: that she would never consent to an act of weakness that would be derogatory to her character and rank. In vain did the prince try to soften her, and make her consider that my influence over the king was immense: he preached to the desert, and was compelled to abandon his purpose without getting any thing by his endeavors.

I now return to my conversation with him. During the time it lasted the king did not cease talking to Chon, all the time listening with attention to what the prince and I were saying; and he did not approach us until the intervention of M. de Chauvelin had terminated this kind of a quarrel. He returned to his seat in front of the fire; and when we were alone, said to me,

"You have been very spiteful to the poor maréchal, and I suffered for him."

"You are an excellent friend; and, no doubt, it is the affection you bear to M. de Soubise which makes you behave so harshly to me. Can I not, without displeasing you, defend myself when I am attacked?"

"I did not say so; but is it necessary that he must be responsible for the follies of his relations?"

"In truth, sire, so much the worse for the father who cannot make his children respect him. If the maréchal was respected by the public, believe me he would be so by his family."

This retort was perhaps too severe. I found this by the silence of the king; but as, in fact, it imported little, and, by God's help, I was never under much constraint with him, I saw him blush, and then he said to me,

"Now, I undertake to bring madame de Guémenée into proper order. The favor I ask is, that you would not meddle. I have power enough to satisfy you, but, for heaven's sake, do not enter into more quarrels than you have already. It seems to me that you ought to avoid them instead of creating such disturbances."

He had assumed a grave tone in reading me this lecture: but as we were in a place in which majesty could not be committed, I began to laugh heartily, and to startle him, I said that henceforward I would pilot my bark myself, and defend myself by openly assailing all persons who testified an aversion to me. How laughable it was to see the comic despair in which this determination threw the king. It seemed to him that the whole court would be at loggerheads; and he could not restrain himself from exclaiming, that he would a hundred times rather struggle against the king of Prussia and the emperor of Germany united, than against three or four females of the château. In a word, I frightened him so completely, that he decided on the greatest act of courage he had ever essayed in my favor: it was, to desire the intervention of the duc de Choiseul in all these quarrels.

The credit of this minister was immense, and this credit was based on four powerful auxiliaries; namely the parliament, the philosophers, the literati, and the women. The high magistracy found in him a public and private protector. The parliaments had themselves a great many clients, and their voices, given to the duc de Choiseul, gave him great power in the different provinces. The philosophers, ranged under the banner of Voltaire, who was their god, and of d'Alembert, their patriarch, knew all his inclinations for them, and knew how far they might rely on his support in all attempts which they made to weaken the power of the clergy, and to diminish the gigantic riches which had been amassed by prelates and monasteries. The writers were equally devoted to him: they progressed with the age, and as on all sides they essayed to effect important reforms, it was natural that they should rally about him in whose hands was the power of their operations.

The ladies admired his gallantry: in fact, the duc de Choiseul was a man who understood marvellously well how to combine serious labors with pleasure. I was, perhaps, the only woman of the court whom he would not love, and yet I was not the least agreeable nor the most ugly. It was very natural for them to exalt his merit and take him under their especial protection. Thus was he supported in every quarter by them; they boasted of his measures, and by dint of repeating in the ears of every body that M. de Choiseul was a minister par excellence, and the support of monarchy, they had contrived to persuade themselves of the truth of their assertion. In fact, if France found herself freed from the Jesuits, it was to the duc de Choiseul that this was owing, and this paramount benefit assured to him universal gratitude.

The king was fully aware of this unanimity of public opinion in favor of his minister. He was, besides, persuaded, that in arranging the pacte de famille, and concluding the alliance with the imperial house, the duc de Choiseul had evinced admirable diplomatic talents, and rendered France real, and important, service. His attachment to him was incumbent, and rested on solid foundations. If, at a subsequent period, he dismissed him, it was because he was deceived by a shameful intrigue which it will cost me pain to develop to you, because I took by far too much a leading part in it, which now causes me the deepest regret.

Now, by the act of my presentation, the duc de Choiseul would be compelled to meet me often, which would render our mutual situation very disagreeable. On this account the king sought to reconcile us, and would have had no difficulty in effecting his wishes had he only had the resistance of the minister and his wife to encounter. The lady had not much influence over her husband, and besides she had too much good sense to struggle against the wishes of the king: but the duchesse de Grammont was there, and this haughty and imperious dame had so great an ascendancy with her brother, and behaved with so little caution, that the most odious reports were in circulation about their intimacy.

It could scarcely be hoped that we could tame this towering spirit, which saw in me an odious rival. Louis XV did not flatter himself that he could effect this prodigy, but he hoped to have a greater ascendancy over his minister. It was to the duc de Choiseul, therefore, that he first addressed himself, desirous of securing the husband and wife before he attacked the redoubtable sister. The next morning, after my warm assault on the prince de Soubise, he profited by an audience which the duke requested at an unusual hour to introduce this negotiation of a new kind, and the details I give you of this scene are the more faithful, as the king gave them to me still warm immediately after the conversation had terminated.

The state affairs having been concluded, the king, seeking to disguise his voluntary embarrassment, said to the duke, smiling,

"Duc de Choiseul, I have formed for my private hours a most delightful society: the most attached of my subjects consider themselves highly favored when I invite them to these evening parties so necessary for my amusement. I see with pain that you have never yet asked me to admit you there."

"Sire," replied the duke, "the multiplicity of the labors with which your majesty has charged me, scarcely allows me time for my pleasures."

"Oh, you are not so fully occupied but that you have still some time to spend with the ladies, and I think that I used to meet you frequently at the marquise de Pompadour's."

"Sire, she was my friend."

"Well, and why, is not the comtesse du Barry? Who has put it into your head that she was opposed to you? You do not know her: she is an excellent woman: not only has she no dislike to you, but even desires nothing more than to be on good terms with you."

"I must believe so since your majesty assures me of it; but, sire, the vast business with which I am overwhelmed—"

"Is not a sufficing plea; I do not allow that without a special motive, you should declare yourself against a person whom I honor with my protection. As you do not know her, and cannot have any thing to urge against her but prejudices founded on false rumors and scandalous fabrications, I engage you to sup with me at her apartments this evening, and I flatter myself that when I wish it you will not coin a parcel of reasons in opposition to my desire."

"I know the obedience that is due to your majesty," said de Choiseul, bowing low.

"Well, then, do first from duty what I flatter myself you will afterwards do from inclination. Duc de Choiseul, do not allow yourself to be influenced by advice that will prove injurious to you. What I ask cannot compromise you; but I should wish that with you all should be quiet, that no one should struggle against me, and that too with the air of contending against a person's station. Do not reply, you know perfectly what I would say, and I know what belongs to myself."

Here the conversation terminated. The duc de Choiseul did not become my friend any the more, but behaved towards me with all due consideration. He used grace and finesse in his proceedings, without mingling with it anything approaching to nonsense. He never allowed himself, whatever has been said, to dart out in my face any of those epigrams which public malignity has attributed to him. Perhaps like many other persons in the world, he has said many pleasantries of me which have been reported as said in my presence, but I repeat that he never uttered in my society a single word with which I had cause to be offended.

At this juncture I received a letter of which I had the folly to be proud, altho' a little reflection should have made me think that my situation alone inspired it: it was from M. de Voltaire. This great genius was born a courtier. Whether he loved the protection of the great, or whether he thought it necessary to him, he was constantly aiming, from his youth upwards, at obtaining the countenance of persons belonging to a high rank, which made him servile and adulatory whilst they were in power, and full of grimace towards them when the wind favor ceased to swell their sails. It was in this way that mesdames de Chateauroux and de Pompadour had had his homage. He had sung their praises, and, of course, he could not forget me. You will recall to mind the letter which he wrote to the duc d'Aiguillon, on occasion of the piece of poetry entitled "La Cour du Roi Petaud." He had denied having composed it, but this denial had not been addressed directly to me. Having learnt, no doubt, that my credit was increasing, he thought himself obliged to write to me, that he might rank me with his party. He might have availed himself of the intermediation of the duc d'Aiguillon, but preferred putting the duc de Richelieu into his confidence, and begged him to fulfil the delicate function of literary Mercury. I was alone when the maréchal came to me with an assumed air of mystery. His first care was to look around him without saying a word; and it was not until after he had shaken the curtains, and peeped into every corner of the apartment, that he approached me, who was somewhat surprised at his monkey tricks.

"I am the bearer," he said, in a low voice, "of a secret and important communication, which I have been entreated to deliver after five or six hundred cautions at least: it is a, defection from the enemy's camp, and not the least in value."

Fully occupied by my quarrel with the ladies of the court, I imagined that he had brought me a message of peace from some great lady; and, full of this idea, I asked him in haste the name of her whose friendship I had acquired.

"Good," said he, "it is about a lady, is it? It is from a personage fully as important, a giant in power, whose words resound from one extremity of Europe to another, and whom the Choiseuls believe their own entirely." "It is M. de Voltaire," I said.

"Exactly so: your perspicacity has made you guess it." "But what does he want with me?"

"To be at peace with you; to range himself under your banner, secretly at first, but afterwards openly."

"Is he then afraid openly to evince himself my friend?" I replied, in a tone of some pique.

"Rather so, and yet you must not feel offended at that. The situation of this sarcastic and talented old man is very peculiar; his unquiet petulance incessantly gives birth to fresh perils. He, of necessity, must make friends in every quarter, left and right, in France and foreign countries. The necessary consequence is, that he cannot follow a straight path. The Choiseuls have served him with perfect zeal: do not be astonished if he abandon them when they can no longer serve him. If they fall, he will bid them good evening, and will sport your cockade openly."

"But," I replied, "this is a villainous character."

"Ah, I do not pretend to introduce to you an Aristides or an Epaminondas, or any other soul of similar stamp. He is a man of letters, full of wit, a deep thinker, a superior genius, and our reputations are in his hands. If he flatters us, posterity will know it; if he laugh at us, it will know it also. I counsel you therefore to use him well, if you would have him behave so towards you."

"I will act conformably to your advice," said I to the maréchal; "at the same time I own to you that I fear him like a firebrand."

"I, like you, think that there is in him something of the infernal stone: he burns you on the slightest touch. But now, to this letter; you will see what he says to you. He begs me most particularly to conceal from every body the step he has taken with you. What he most dreads is, lest you should proclaim from the housetops that he is in correspondence with you. I conjure you, on his behalf, to exercise the greatest discretion, and I think that you are interested in doing so; for, if what he has done should be made public, he will not fail to exercise upon you the virulence of his biting wit."

Our conversation was interrupted by a stir which we heard in the château, and which announced to us the king. The maréchal hastily desired me not to show Voltaire's letter to the king until I had read it previously to myself. "He does not like this extraordinary man," he added, "and accuses him of having failed in respect, and perhaps you will find in this paper some expression which may displease him."

Scarcely had I put the epistle in my pocket, when the king entered.

"What are you talking about," said he, "you seem agitated?"

"Of M. de Voltaire, sire," I replied, with so much presence of mind as to please the duc de Richelieu.

"What, is he at his tricks again? Have you any cause of complaint against him?"

"Quite the reverse; he has charged M. d'Argental to say to M. de Richelieu, that he was sorry that he could not come and prostrate himself at my feet."

"Ah," said the king, remembering the letter to the duc d'Aiguillon, "he persists in his coquetries towards you: that is better than being lampooned by him. But do not place too much confidence in this gentleman of the chamber: he weighs every thing in two scales; and I doubt much whether he will spare you when he evinces but little consideration for me."

Certainly Richelieu had a good opportunity of undertaking the defence of his illustrious friend. He did no such thing; and I have always thought that Voltaire was the person whom the duke detested more heartily than any other person in the world. He did, in fact, dread him too much to esteem him as a real friend.

"M. d'Argental," said the king, "unites then at my court the double function of minister of Parma and steward of Ferney.* Are these two offices compatible?"