This letter filled the duc d'Aiguillon with joy. Some days afterwards, the prince de Soubise, who also wished to give me his advice, did not attain the same success. It must be owned, that, for a man of the world, he went about it in a very clumsy way. He committed the extreme error of selecting mademoiselle Guimard as mediatrix between himself and me. This lady came to me on the strength of our former acquaintance; she had so little sense as not to perceive the immense distance between us which a few days had caused, and that the opera-dancer kept by the prince de Soubise could have no relation with the favorite of the king of France. I endeavored, in vain, to make her perceive it, without mortifying her too much. She always called me her dear friend, and fairly slaughtered me with saying that prince would protect me. It was singular for her to speak thus to me; to me from whom prince solicited protection. She did not confine herself to this, she even insinuated to me that I should be a gainer in some way. I laughed outright at this, and said to the , who was stationed at the door, "Call mademoiselle's servants." This annoyed her excessively; all the muscles of her face were contracted with rage; but she restrained her wrath, saluted me with an assumed respect, and went away, after having so worthily acquitted herself of her foolish embassy.

She had quitted me for an hour, when I received a letter from him who had sent her. The prince de Soubise begged me to grant him an interview, in which he could enter into an explanation. I replied that I would receive him, and he came the same day.

"I am much pained, madame," said he, on entering, "that mademoiselle Guimard has communicated with so little address what I wished to say to you."

"Prince, I think you would have done better to have been the bearer of your own message. You know my station here, and would not have ridiculed me as she has done."

M. de Soubise, much puzzled to know what she had said, asked me the question.

"Why," I replied, "she said, that if I would follow your counsels, you would pay me for my condescension."

"Ah! madame," he exclaimed, "she has completely murdered me. I only charged her to offer my services to you, and throw myself at your feet, as I do now."

"Rise, prince, I do not accuse you of such folly, and promise not to mention it: it is necessary, however, that you should know I have but one part to play here, that of pleasing the king. Any other character will not suit me. Honor me with your friendship, and accept mine in return. I cannot, must not, have any other union with you."

Thus terminated this interview; it did not suit me to give the prince de Soubise any hopes. He and all the Rohans would have lived on it; they would have turned my confidence to their gain, and as they were for the most part sharpers, or something akin to it, my name would soon have been mixed up with some dirty transaction. His family was a hydra of avarice, and would alone have swallowed up all the wealth of France. If the king had taken one of the Rohan family for his mistress, I believe that the finance department would not have sufficed for one year's expenditure of this prodigal family. I had no objection to the prince de Soubise coming to supper with me, but I did not feel myself disposed to give him any control over my mind. I should have been ill-guided by a man who had no government of himself.

If M, de Soubise did not depart satisfied, madame de Marsan, his relative, to whom he related the bad success of his attempt, was not more so. She was a woman to have governed a kingdom, had she been allowed to do so. There was in her woman's head a capacity superior to that of all the men of her family. She had a great deal of ambition, and all her actions were the results of a premeditated plan. She would have ruled the king, the princes, the princesses, favorites, mistresses, the court, the city, the parliaments, and the army! Nothing would have been impossible to her; she was adequate to any thing. Circumstances did not give her the opportunity of displaying her genius. With great talents and keen perception, she was reduced to the government of her own family alone; that was but a trifling matter! In spite of her discontent, madame de Marsan preserved a sort of neutrality towards me. She allowed all sorts of ill to be spoken of me without ever repressing a word. She was then mute and motionless. She saw me torn to pieces without any emotion. However, when we were together she tried to cajole me in a thousand ways, all the time detesting me in her heart; and I, who could scarcely endure the sight of her, paid her a like number of little attentions. Thus surrounded by hypocrites, I became one myself. We learn to howl in the society of wolves.



CHAPTER V

The duc de la Vauguyon and the comtesse du Barry—The marquis de Chauvelin and the comtesse—M. de Montbarrey and the comtesse— Intrigues—Lebel—Arrival of the du Barry family—The comte d'Hargicourt—The demoiselles du Barry—Marriage of the comtesse— The marquis de Bonrepos—Correspondences—The broken glass

The prince de Soubise was not the only person who wished to act in the capacity of mentor to me. M. the duc de la Vauguyon attempted also to be the guide of my youth. This nobleman was too much of a Jesuit not to have a nose of prodigiously fine scent. He perceived that the wind was in my favor, and approached me in consequence. I have mentioned to you his first visit, and he made me a second a few days afterwards. He appeared very affable, very conciliating, and insisted particularly several times, and that without any apparent motive, that the king, not being now engaged in the ties of wedlock, he should choose some agreeable companion, and assuredly could not do better than select me. The day after this visit, early in the morning, the duke sent me a splendid bouquet, a homage which he afterwards repeated, and then called on me a third time.

During this visit after a conversation on the embarrassments of an introduction at Versailles, he proposed that I should avoid them.

"You cannot conceal from yourself," he said, "how powerful will be the cabal against you; and, without including the Choiseuls, you will have especially to fear the pious party, who will only see in your intimacy with the king, allow me to say, a crying scandal, and one not profitable for religion."

"If the pious party unite with those who are not so to destroy me," I rejoined, laughing, "I shall have all France against me."

"No; but perhaps all the chateau. But there is a way of averting the storm. Attach yourself to the party of honest men who have been so greatly calumniated—the Jesuits. Philosophy, supported by the duc de Choiseul, has repressed them; but the high clergy and the are attached strongly to them, and you would interest them in your fortune by favoring these worthy fathers."

"What! monsieur le duc," cried I, "will the clergy of France, and and their suite be favorable to me, if I use my influence with the king in espousing the cause of the society of Jesus?"

"Certainly, madame, and I am authorized to promise you. I give you my word for this. Endeavor to re-establish the order, and there will not be one of us but will be zealous in supporting you."

"I certainly am desirous of pleasing your friends; but I can see that, from the first moment of my appearance at court, I shall be at open war with the Choiseuls and the parliaments."

"What matters it? I confess that the victory will not be easy at first, but there is no need to exaggerate the difficulties. It is true that the king has esteem for the duc de Choiseul, but he has much affection for you, which avails much more.

"As for the parliaments, he hates them, and for many years has been desirous of ridding himself of them entirely, and he will effect this by the help of God and your interference."

"This will be hard work for one so weak as I am."



"Oh, you are sufficiently powerful, I assure you. Only confide in me, the intermediary between you and my friends, let me guide you, and I will steer to the right port. What do you think of this, madame?"

"Oh! monsieur le duc, it is not at a moment that we can give a positive reply to such grave matters. I content myself in assuring you, that I have for you as much confidence as respect, and should be very happy to obtain your protection."

"My protection! Oh, heaven, madame, you are jesting. It is I who should be honored by your friendship."

"It is yours; but as yet I am nothing at court, and can do nothing there until I have been presented. It is for my speedy presentation that my friends should labor now."

"We will not fail, madame; and if you will allow me to come from time to time to converse with you, we can take our measures."

"Your visits will always be agreeable."

Such was the conversation which I had with the duc de la Vauguyon. I have given it somewhat at length, because it was the preface to a deep intrigue which made a vast noise. I think I extricated myself very well from the net in which the duke sought to catch me. I knew that his situation at Versailles compelled me to act with caution towards him. He was in good odor with , had the ear of the young dauphin and the princes his brothers. He deceived me like a true Jesuit as he was, in telling me that the were well disposed towards me ; and on my side I cheated him with a promise of confidence and, friendship which I never bestowed. Ah! my friend, again and again must I exclaim, what a villainous place is a court!

Whilst the duc de la Vauguyon was seeking to enlist me under the banners of heaven or the Jesuits, the marquis of Chauvelin also essayed to make me his pupil; but as frank as he was amiable, this nobleman did not go to work in a roundabout manner. He came to me loyally, requesting me to consider his interests and mine.

"The king likes me," said he, "and I am attached to him body and soul. He tenderly loves you, and I should have no difficulty in doing the same thing; but as I am no longer of an age to inspire you with the passion which I should feel towards you, I content myself with your friendship. I have no enemy here, and no wish to hurt any person. Thus you need not fear that I shall urge you to any measures that might compromise you. It is the hatred of the kingdom that you will have to fear. France is about to march in a better track, and the best plan is to follow its lead. It pains me, madame, to use language which may appear severe to you; we ought only to talk to you of your beauty and the love which it inspires. But in your situation, even that beauty may serve the interests of France, and it is for that motive that I come to solicit you."

I replied to M. de Chauvelin with equal frankness. I told him that my sole intentions were to confine myself to the circle of my duties; that I had none but to please the king, and no intention of mixing myself up with state affairs. This was my plan I can assure you. I flattered myself that I could follow it, not dreaming of those political nuisances into which I was precipitated in spite of myself. I added, nevertheless, that in my situation, which was delicate, I would not refuse the counsels of a faithful servant of the king, and that under this title M. de Chauvelin should be consulted on important occasions.

The marquis de Chauvelin had too much good sense, too much knowledge of the world, not to perceive a refusal concealed under this politeness. The secret inclination of my heart had already led me to select the duc d'Aiguillon for my director, and I could not reconcile myself to any other. He contented himself with asking me again for my friendship, which I willingly accorded him, and I have always found myself fortunate in his. Thus did I accept the offers of service from the prince de Soubise, the duc de la Vauguyon, and the marquis de Chauvelin.

A fourth sought to swell the ranks; the comte, afterwards prince, de Montbarrey. This gentleman made up in pretensions for what he lacked in talent. He was weak, self-important, selfish, fond of women, and endeavored to preserve all the airs of a man of good breeding in the midst of the grossest debauchery. He was full of respect for himself and his house, of which in time of need he could cite the whole genealogy. His nomination was a real scandal; no one dreamt of his ever being minister of war. It was one of the thousand follies of old Maurepas, whom the late king knew well, and called the ballad-maker of the council.

The comte de Montbarrey, whom I had known at Paris, came to me one fine day, fully powdered, perfumed, and apparelled. He had a smile on his lip, a loud tone, and an insolent look. He came not to ask my friendship, but my obedience. He told me that he loved me to distraction, and of course my head must be equally towards him. He amused me. I let him run out the full length of his line; and when he had spun it all out, I said to him, "Monsieur, be so good as to call me to the recollection of madame de Merfort."

She was one of the gambling ladies, and at her house I had formerly met the chevalier de Montbarrey. My reply confounded him: he saw that he had gone the wrong way to work with me; and, raising the siege, he left me excessively embarrassed.

Figure to yourself, my friend, what confidence a man, lost in the crowd of lower courtiers, could inspire me with; for to judge of the proceedings of the comte de Montbarrey, it would have been necessary to have seen him as he then was, and not what he became since the imbecility of M. de Maurepas. When I told comte Jean of his visit, he would not believe such insolence. You must know that my brother-in-law also wished to direct me, but I did not consider him sufficiently clever. His marvellous genius was eclipsed in politics. He swore at my ingratitude, and I could only appease him by an offering of plenty of money.

In the midst of this cross-fire of intrigues, one was devised against me which might have terminated in my ruin; but, thanks to the indefatigable activity of comte Jean, only served to fix me more firmly in my situation. Lebel, of whom I have said nothing for this age, came to me one day: his face was sad, and his look serious. By his manner I augured that my reign had passed, and that I must quit my post. I awaited what he should say with mortal impatience. At length he began thus:

"Madame, you have many bitter enemies, who are laboring to effect your ruin with a blood-thirstiness which nothing can assuage. They have now spread a report that you are not married. This infamous calumny—"

"Ah, is that all?' said I with joy; "no, my dear Lebel, this time they do not calumniate me. The worthy creatures for once are right."

"What," said Lebel, in a tone of alarm almost comic, "what, are you really not married?"

"No."

"Are you not the wife of the comte Guillaume du Barry?"

"No."

"Then you have deceived the king, and played with me."

"Lebel, my friend, take another tone. No one has any right to complain. You have given me to the king as a person to please him; I do so. The rest can be no matter of yours."

"Pardon me, madame; it is a matter of the greatest consequence to me. I am terribly compromised in this affair, and you with me."

Lebel told me that the duchesse de Grammont had begged him to call upon her, and had bitterly reproached him about the mistress he had procured for the king; the duchesse affirmed that I was a nameless and unmarried creature; and added, that it was his duty to make the king acquainted with these particulars, unless I, the pretended wife of du Barry, would consent to go to England when a large pension should be assured to me.

"No, my dear Lebel, I will not go to England; I will remain in France, at Versailles, at the chateau. If I am not married I will be; the thing is easily managed."

Lebel. somewhat assured, begged me to send for comte Jean, and when he came he (Lebel) recommenced his tale of grief.

"You are drowning yourself in a glass of water," said my future brother-in-law to him, beginning to treat him with less ceremony; "go back to the duchesse de Grammont, and tell her that madame was married at Toulouse. She will have an inquiry set on foot; in the mean while my brother will arrive, and the marriage will take place. Then we will show the rebels a real comtesse du Barry; and whether my sister-in-law be a lady of six months' standing or only of yesterday, that is of no consequence to the king of France."

After this conversation Lebel delivered the message to the duchesse de Grammont, who told him that she should write to Toulouse to the attorney-general. This was what the comte Jean wished and he was prepared for her.

But, you will say to me, was it certain that your asserted husband would marry you? Were there no difficulties to fear? None. Comte Guillaume was poor, talented, and ambitious; he liked high living, and would have sold himself to the devil for riches. He was happy in marrying me. Comte Jean would not have ventured such a proposal to his other brother, the comte d'Hargicourt, who had much good sense and great notions of propriety, and who at Versailles was called the ; a distinction not over flattering to his two brothers.

The same evening the whole family arrived, and was presented to me the next day. My two future sisters-in-law frightened me at first with their provincial manners and southern accent; but, after a few minutes, I found that this Gascon pronunciation had many charms with it. Mesdemoiselles du Barry were not handsome but very agreeable. One was called Isabelle, whom they had nicknamed , the other's name was Fanchon, and her name had been abbreviated to "." The latter had much talent, and even brought to Versailles with her, an instinctive spirit of diplomacy which would have done honor to a practised courtier. She would have been thought simple, unsophisticated, and yet was full of plot and cunning.

I was soon much pleased with her, and the king became equally so. He was always very much amused at hearing her talk (provincially), or recite the verses of one Gondouli, a poet of Languedoc. He used to make her jump upon his knees; and altho' she had passed the first bloom of youth, he played with her like a child. But what most particularly diverted the king, was calling my sister-in-law by her nickname; "<Petite Chon, grande Chon>," he was always saying, "do this, go there, come here." Louis XV did the same with his own daughters: he had amongst them a , a , a , and they were the ladies Victoire, Adelaide, and Sophie, whom he thus elegantly designated. I so soon saw the taste of the king for nicknames that I gave him one, it was Lafrance. So far from being angry with me, he laughed to tears every time that I called him so. I must confess, , that the anecdote about the coffee is true.* I will only justify myself by saying, that if I expressed myself coarsely it was not in consequence of my vulgar education, but because the king liked such modes of expression.

*Louis XV had a habit of making his own coffee after dinner. One day the coffee boiled over the sides of the pot, and madame du Barry cried out, " Eh, Lafrance, ton cafe f —- le camp." (author)

Let me revert to my marriage, which was performed secretly at the parish of Saint Laurent. I believe the king knew of it, altho' he never alluded to it any more than myself. Thus the malice of my enemies was completely balked in this affair. Some days afterwards comte Jean received a letter from the attorney-general of the parliament of Toulouse, M. the marquis de Bonrepos-Riquet. This gentleman informed my brother-in-law that he had been applied to, to institute an inquiry at all the notaries, and amongst all the registers of the parishes for the proof of my marriage; that he warned us to be on our guard, and that whatever diligence he might be desired to employ, he should do nothing without informing us. We felt the obligation of this proceeding, and my brother-in-law thanked the attorney-general in my name as well as in his own. He told him that it was not at Toulouse that the parties interested should make their researches for my marriage certificate, but at Paris, either at the parish church of Saint Laurent, or at the notary's, Lepot d'Auteuil. M. de Bonrepos gave part of this reply to the duchesse de Grammont. Great was the bustle amongst the Choiseuls! I leave you to judge of the fury of the lady or ladies, for the contesse de Grammont was no less irritated than the other, always prepossessed with the idea, that to please the king was to wrong their family. The comtesse de Grammont had not half the talent of the duchesse, she had only her faults. She showed herself so rude and impertinent towards me, that I was at length compelled, not to exile her of my own accord, but to allow that she should be so served. But I anticipate, for this did not occur until the following year.

The king by all his kindnesses endeavored to recompense me for these attacks: he appeared charmed to see me surrounded by my husband's family. He placed amongst the pages the vicomte Adolphe du Barry, son of comte Jean, a young man of great promise, but whose destiny was so brief and so unfortunate. My husband's family testified much affection for me, as did the duc d'Aiguillon, to whom I daily attached myself. He carefully kept from me all that could give me pain, and took a thousand precautions that no unpleasant reports should reach me. If we passed a short time without meeting he wrote to me, and I confess I was delighted with a correspondence which formed my own style. Mademoiselle Chon, my sister-in-law, and I also wrote to each other, and that from one room to another. I remember that one day, having broken a glass of rock crystal which she had given me, I announced my misfortune in such solemn style, and with so well feigned a tone of chagrin, that the letter amused the whole family. The king saw it, and was so much pleased that he kept it, and next day sent me a golden goblet enriched with stones, which I gave to Chon, to whom it rightfully belonged.



CHAPTER VI

Journey to Choisy—The comtesse du Barry and Louis XV—The king of Denmark—The czar Peter—Frederick II—The abbe de la Chapelle— An experiment—New intrigues—Secret agents-The comtesse and Louis XV—Of the presentation—Letter of the comtesse to the duc d'Aiguillon—Reply—Prince de Soubise

Up to this period I had resided constantly at Versailles or Paris, according to the pleasure of the king, but had never followed his majesty in any of his journeys. He wished to pass some days at his delightful chateau at Choisy, situated on the banks of the Seine. It was decided that I should be of the party, taking the name of the baroness de Pamklek, a German lady, as that would save me from the embarrassment in which I should be placed with the king in consequence of my non-presentation. The prince de Soubise, the ducs de la Trimoulle, d'Ayen, d'Aiguillon, and the marquis de Chauvelin, were also to attend the king. The king remained nearly the whole time with me, and the to my apartment became a favor not accorded to every body. A small committee met there, and talked of every thing except what is rational; and I can assure you that with such conversation time passes very quickly.

One day the king entered my apartment holding in his hand a letter.

"I am about to receive," said he, "a visit that will not give me much pleasure. My brother of Denmark is traversing Europe, and is about to come to France. ! what inconvenient persons are your travelling kings! Why do they leave their kingdoms? I think they are very well at home."

"Yes, sire, but there is an excuse for them: they are weary of admiring your majesty at a distance, and wish for the happiness of knowing you."

At this compliment the king rubbed his hands with a smile, which he always did when he was satisfied, and then said,

"There is not in the hearts of foreign potentates the same affection towards my person as you feel. It is not me but France they wish to see. I remember that when very young I received a visit from the czar Peter the Great, Peter the First I mean to say. He was not deficient in sense, but yet behaved like a boor: he passed his time in running over the academies, libraries, and manufactories: I never saw such an ill-bred man. Imagine him embracing me at our first interview, and carrying me in his arms as one of my valets would have done. He was dirty, coarse, and ill-dressed. Well, all the Frenchmen ran after him; one would have supposed by their eagerness that they had never seen a regal countenance."

"Yet there was no occasion to run very far to see the handsome face of a king."

"Hold your tongue, madame la baronne de Pamklek, you are a flatterer. There is a crowned head which for thirty years has desired to visit France, but I have always turned a deaf ear, and will resist it as long as possible."

"Who, sire, is the king so unfortunate as to banished by you from your majesty's presence?"

"Who? The king of philosophers, the rival of Voltaire, my brother of Prussia. Ah, my dear baronne, he is a bad fellow; he detests me, and I have no love for him. A king does wisely, certainly, to submit his works to the judgment of a Freron! It would be outrageous scandal if he came here. Great and small would crowd around him, and there would not be twenty persons in my train."

"Ah! sire , do you think so?"

"I am sure of it. The French now-a-days do not care for their kings, and will be renewed at an early day. After all, philosophers believe that Frederick II protects them: the honest man laughs both at them and me."

"At you, sire? Impossible."

"No, no; I know the impertinences he is guilty of towards me: but let him. I prefer making my court to the pretty women of my kingdom instead of to my pages. You may depend upon it that if he came to Versailles he would debauch some of them."

The king, charmed at having said this malicious speech, rubbed his hands again.

"Really, sire," I replied, "I am astonished that this prince, having such disgusting inclinations, can have much attached to his name."

"Ah, that is because he has great qualities: he will not allow himself to be cheated. Do you know that he is acquainted with the disposal of his finances to the last farthing?"

"Sire, he must be a miser."

"No, madame, he is a man of method. But enough of him. As to his majesty of Denmark, altho' he would have been as welcome to stay at home, I shall receive him with as much attention as possible. The kings of Denmark and Sweden are my natural allies."

The king changed the subject, and said, "There is an abbe, named la Chapelle, whom I think half cracked. He flatters himself that he can, thro' the medium of some apparatus, remain on the water without sinking. He begs my permission to exhibit his experiment before me; and if it would amuse you, we will have the exhibition to-morrow." I accepted the king's proposal with pleasure.

On the next day we went in a body to the terrace of the chateau. The king was near me with his hat in his hand; the duc de Duras gave me his arm. M. l' abbe waited us in a boat: he flung himself bodily into the water, dressed in a sort of cork-jacket, moved in any direction in the water, drank, ate, and fired off a gun. So far all went off well, but the poor abbe, to close the affair, wrote a letter to the king. The letter was carried in great pomp to his majesty. It contained two verses of Racine, which had some double allusion to the experiment. This, you may be sure, was interpreted in the worst manner. The duc d'Ayen gave the finishing stroke to the whole, on his opinion being asked by the king.

"Sire," said he, "such men ought to be thrown into the water; but all we can wish for them is, that they should remain there."

The abbe was not more fortunate in the evening. He presented himself at supper, but the king did not address a word to him, and he was compelled to bear the malicious jokes of the courtiers. But let us leave Choisy and the experimentalist, and return to Versailles and myself.

My friends were excessively desirous for my presentation, which would decide my position at the chateau. As yet I only had an equivocal existence, having rank neither at play, theatre, or public festival; so that if the king should be capricious I could be dismissed as one of the demoiselles of the . The duc d'Aiguillon, whose attachment to me increased, calculated accurately all the advantages of this presentation. It would place me on the same footing with madame de Pompadour, and compel the ministers to come and work with me. The duke did not doubt but that M. de Choiseul would refuse to pay his to me, and that his resistance would lead to his fall. But for my presentation, it was necessary not only that the king should consent, for of that I was certain, but that he should desire it, and his desire could not be depended on.

Louis XV was excessively timid: with an air which appeared of a dreadnaught quality, he was fearful at heart. The clamors of Versailles kept him in alarm; and he kept at his own court and at foreign courts secret agents, whose only care was to report to him the complaints of the people and the sarcasms and satires of society. The king was attached to them; and when the force of circumstances compelled him to abandon them, he still supported them clandestinely with all his power. A proof of what I advance may be known as regards the chevalier or chevaliere d'Eon, I know not which. But these secret agents were, unknown to the king, all devoted to the parliaments, and consequently inimical to courtiers, favorites, and especially mistresses. God knows how they disposed of us! By these unpropitious channels the king had learnt all the hatred which was borne to madame de Pompadour. He was afraid of exciting the discontent of the people by announcing another mistress, and was no less intimidated at the severity of madame Louise, and the ill-humor of his other children. He loved his pleasure much, but his ease more.

Comte Jean, who was restrained by no considerations, advised me to overleap all difficulty, by asking the king myself for the favor which I coveted. His advice seemed rational, and I was besides urged on to do so. Each day brought to me impertinences said of me by the noble ladies of the chateau. I learnt that they boasted that I should never set foot in the great apartments, but should remain the obscure mistress of the king. This made me impatient, and by degrees deprived me of my natural gaiety.

One day when the king was with me, he perceived my want of spirits.

"What ails you?" said be, with the greatest solicitude.

"What ails me!" replied I, "I wish I were dead, rather than see myself the butt of all the scandal of the foul-mouthed gossips of your court."

The king, suspecting the confidence I was about to repose in him, was sorry he had asked for it, and was silent. He began to play a tattoo with his fingers on the chimney-piece. At this moment mademoiselle Chon came in. The king, delighted at seeing her, instantly inquired into her state of health. She, after a profound reverence, said,

"Sire, how can I be well when there is trouble in my family?"

"Ah, ! what is this?" said he, turning to me.

"I am insulted, hooted: they say that I have the misfortune to be no longer in the good graces of your majesty."

"Ah, tell them they lie in their throats," replied the king, kissing me on the forehead; "you are the woman of my heart, and she whom I would fain load with honors. "

"Your majesty speaks to me," I answered, "with great condescension [my sister-in-law left the room that she might not spoil the explanation], but yet you are the cause of the insolences which I am subjected to from the vile crew."

"What is the matter with you to-day? In truth you are a perfect little devil."

"I wish I were, that I might punish evil tongues, since there is no king of France to avenge me."

"You are severe, madame," replied Louis XV, turning his imposing and handsome face towards me, and to which he vainly endeavored to give an air of anger. I saw my success, and added,

"Yes, sire, it is insupportable for me to think that I am supposed not to possess your friendship, and that I only play the part of a temporary friend. It makes me wretched: you must not be angry if I complain of you to your royal self."

"Well, well, you madcap, what must I do? Whom must I banish?"

"Oh, sire, no one: with your august support I fear no person; nothing but appearances."

"You are an excellent creature; in your place madame de Pompadour would have imprisoned half France."

"That was because she loved revenge better than she loved your majesty. As for me, I should be miserable if I were the cause of one single family complaining against you."

The king, delighted at these words, which really came from my heart, embraced me tenderly two or three times, and said,

"I wish your enemies could understand you, for they would soon be at your knees. But if we imprison or exile no person, how shall we strike terror into them?"

"It is not terror but envy that I would excite. Let me be presented at court, and all my wishes will be satisfied."

"I cannot for the life of me divine why you should lay so much stress on coming to weary yourself with the ceremonies of myself and daughters. Heaven preserve you from all the irksomeness of court ceremony!" And Louis XV sighed. "Did you ever think," he added, "of all the vanities, all the interests I have to manage; all the intrigues that are perpetually agitating, and all the opposition made to me? The court, the city, the people, will rise against me: they will clamor, groan, complain; verse, prose, epigram, and pamphlet will appear in uninterrupted succession. You would be first attacked, and hatred will perhaps extend to me. I shall see again the times when the Damiens, in the name of the parliaments, as one party says, in the name of the Jesuits, as the other party says, and, what is more true, in the name—"

The king suddenly paused; a deep shade of melancholy settled on his features, his noble head dropped on his bosom. Louis XV remained for some time motionless; at length,

"Well," he exclaimed, attempting to force a smile, "well! I will write to the ladies de Grammont, to inform them that they need not give themselves the trouble to remain near me at the chateau."

On his saying these words I darted towards the door, and went into my chamber. The king followed, and finding there mademoiselle Chon, who was working at some tapestry, said to her,

"Mademoiselle, I confide to your care, and by oral , the most amiable little devil in France. And now, mademoiselle du Barry, having nothing further to add, I pray God to take you to His powerful and holy keeping."

After this pleasantry the king, delighted at the gay termination of a somewhat serious scene, went, or rather vanished; for to use a proverbial expression, he ran like a thief.

As soon as I was alone with my sister-in-law, I told her all that had passed.

"I see," said she, "that the king is fearful of offending the duc de Choiseul, and giving annoyance to his daughters. But a step must be determined on which will place you out of the reach of complete disgrace. Would it not be best to get some nobleman, who can do so with influence, to speak to him on the subject? If the duc de Richelieu were here—"

"But," I instantly exclaimed, "have we not his nephew, the duc d' Aiguillon? He is well with the king, and I am certain will take the most lively interest in all that concerns me."

"I have no doubt of it," said Chon, with a sly look. "Write to him to come, and you can arrange your ulterior proceedings."

On this advice, which was quite to my taste, I went instantly to my writing-table, the last present which the king had made me. It was made of silver gilt, and china slabs beautifully painted. When I opened it, a glass was lifted which reflected my countenance. I sat down and wrote the following note to the duc d'Aiguillon:—

"You must be content. I want your assistance, I really want it. The moment has come for deserving all my confidence. Will you have it at all risks and perils? Reflect well before you undertake this: if you accept, come to-day at five o'clock precisely, neither later nor sooner."

A little while afterwards the following reply was brought.

"One thing displeases me in your letter which else enchants me. You appear to doubt my obedience. Am I not your slave? And when you say to me , will I not ? Rely on me as on yourself; even more: for your vivacity may lead you into error, and I shall preserve my reason. Yes, madame, I will, when near you, preserve my reason when your interests are at stake. At the fixed hour I shall have the honor to lay at your feet my respectful homage and boundless devotion."

It was impossible to express a real sentiment with more delicacy. I was charmed at it, no longer doubting that the duke would consider my interests as his own. I awaited the hour of five with impatience, when my good fortune brought the prince de Soubise. After the first compliments,

"Well, madame la comtesse, when is your presentation to take place?"

"I do not know, monsieur le marechal; there are obstacles in the way. I fear that they who wish to injure me abuse their influence with the king."

"I see that his majesty hesitates, altho' he is desirous of giving you station. He must be stimulated to know that he is master; and that if he shows any wavering in this particular, it will be made use of to govern him hereafter."

Heartily did I applaud the language of M. de Soubise: I did not suspect that the dear prince had another motive behind. At the end of the interview he said,

"Madame, you would not have been as you now are had you been more conciliatory towards me. I know the king, and know how to manage him. I flatter myself that you would have been now presented had you deigned to hear my advice."

"Did I reject it? Was I wrong in declining to have mademoiselle Guimard as ambassadress? Were you assured of her silence? Might she not have compromised us?"

"You are right; I did as one would have done at your age, and you have done as I should do at mine; but there is always time to amend."

"Certainly, prince."

"You accept my advice, then."

"Yes," I replied, seeing the defile in which he wished to entrap me, "yes, if I am presented thro' your influence, from that moment you become my guide and mentor. But it is important that the presentation be not delayed; I rely on you to speak to the king this day about it; and I know that he will give me every particular of the immense service you will render me."

For once the madcap girl got the better of the practised courtier. M. de Soubise, taken in his own snare, politely excused himself, and left me with an assurance that he would speak to the king. He did speak, but obtained nothing more than any other. You will see in my next letter that I did not arrive at the accomplishment of my wishes without much trouble. There were in this affair more intrigues for and against me than were afterwards set on foot to decide war with America.



CHAPTER VII

The comtesse and the duc d'Aiguillon—M. de Soubise—Louis XV and the duc d'Aiguillon—Letter from the comtesse to the king— Answer of the king-The "<Nouvelles a la Main>"—The comtesse and Louis XV—The supper—The court ladies mystified—The comtesse and M. de Sartines

I was still triumphing at the skill which I had displayed in my conference with the prince de Soubise when the duc d'Aiguillon entered.

"Good heaven," said he, kissing my hand very tenderly, "into what inquietude did you throw me by your dear and cruel letter. The ambiguity of your style has caused me inexpressible sorrow; and you have added to it by not allowing me to come to you at the first moment."

"I could not: I thought it would be dangerous for you to appear before the king previously to having seen me."

"Would the king have thought my visit strange?" asked the duke, not without some emotion.

"That is not the point. The black spite of my enemies has not yet deprived me of the counsels of a friend. But as it is necessary to speak to the king in my favor, I wish that he should not know that you do so at my request."

After this I related to the duke my conversation with the king.

"Your situation is delicate," said he to me, "but it should not trouble you. The king is weak, we must give him courage. It is his pliancy of disposition rather than his resistance that we must contend with, and I go to act upon it. "

I then instructed the duke with what had passed between me and the prince de Soubise. When I had done, the duke replied :

"Expect nothing from the prince de Soubise: he will speak, no doubt; but how? In a jesting, laughing way. If, however, you think he can at all serve you, give him all your confidence."

"No, no, never," I replied with quickness; "it is not a thing to be done lightly; we do not select a confidant, counsellor, or friend, at random. Do you not know this, M. le duc? It is requisite that the heart of the one who speaks should repose itself on the heart of the friend who listens. I repeat to you that I have no feeling of confidence towards M. de Soubise. In fact," I added with visible and troubled emotion, "my choice is made, and you have too much heroism to wish to combat it."

At these flattering words the duke precipitated himself at my feet, and swore to support my cause with all his power and interest. I replied that I fully relied on his devotion and prudence. Comte Jean entered, and it was agreed between us three that I should say no more to the king of my presentation before the duc d'Aiguillon had spoken to him of it; that I should content myself with complaining without peevishness, and that we should leave the opening measure to the prince de Soubise, and let him break the ice to his majesty.

The prince de Soubise behaved exactly as the duke had told me: he came to me the next morning with a mysterious air, which already informed me of all he had to say. He said that he had vainly tormented the king; that his majesty wished things to remain just as they were, and desired that until a new order of things nothing should be altered.

"I am sorry for it, monsieur le marechal," I replied. "Whilst I am in this precarious situation, whilst I remain in a corner of the stage as a confidante of tragedy, I can do nothing for my friends, particularly for you, monsieur le marechal."

"On the contrary, madame," he replied, "the king will be more disposed to listen to you whilst he will suppose that your influence is unknown."

"Oh," cried I with a feeling of anger, "you gentlemen courtiers think of nothing but politics. As for me, who am a woman, I have other matters for consideration: I must have honors, title, rank. My self-love suffers cruelly when I see myself immolated by the fear which the ladies de Grammont and three or four other intriguers of their party are able to excite."

The prince was somewhat startled at the freedom of language which I used towards ladies in such credit at court: he begged me to moderate my feelings, and be less moved and excited. By this the prince de Soubise lost the esteem which I might have accorded him, and the second place in my counsels, which I might have given him.

I told the duke, who came to see me the moment afterwards, of the failure of the prince's attempt. He told me that he had not hoped for a better result. He went to the king, flattering himself with hopes of better success, but did not find him.

The daughters of Louis XV had united against me with a fury which nothing could justify. They were incessantly talking scandal of my past life, as if there were only saints at court, as if they had no pranks of their own to reproach themselves with. All the chateau knew of their lovers, and there was evidence of the tenderness of madame Adelaide: as for madame Louise she was an angel upon earth, and was the only one who did not join in the cry against me. On the other hand, the king, whilst he had but little love for his dear daughters, preserved towards them a complaisance and external appearance of kindness which was a substitute for parental love. When cried out, he stopped his ears with his two hands, and seemed, whilst looking proudly at France, to say, "Am not I a good father, and are not my daughters very happy, for I let them cry out with all their might?"

The next day the duc d'Aiguillon went again to the king, and found him bewildered with family scenes and the murmurings of the Choiseuls. When my ambassador had delivered his message, the king asked him if he, as well as the prince de Soubise, had been set upon his haunches by me.

The duke, nothing intimidated at this, told the king that far from having wished that he should be my interpreter, I had requested him not to allude to the matter.

"Why, then," said Louis XV laughing, "do you not follow the advice of the comtesse?"

"Because I entertain a sincere attachment for her, and that I am vexed to hear it said that there are persons who lead your majesty."

"Who are the insolents that hold such language?"

"They surround you, sire. There is not a female here but affirms that you dare not decide on the presentation of the comtesse."

"I alone am master, and will let them know it when the opportunity arrives; but the present moment is not fitting. The comtesse knows how well I love her; and if she will prove her friendship towards me, she will remain quiet for some time."

The duke thought it best to be silent, and came to me. After relating the conversation, he added, "Do not appear at all dejected; the king would not then visit you lest he should find you out of temper. Were I you I should write to him; a word of peace would set him at ease."

I approved this advice, and instantly penned the following letter: —

Sire -They tell me that your majesty has been tormented on my account. It is a treason of which I alone could believe myself capable. But why should I complain? You have done so much for me that I ought to esteem myself happy: your august friendship consoles me thro' all my annoyances. Be assured that henceforth I shall pout no more; I will be the best sheep in the world, relying on my shepherd for not having my fleece cut too closely; for after all I think I am the petted ewe, etc."

A short time afterwards a page brought me a splendid box of with a pair of ruby ear-rings surrounded with diamonds, and this short billet: —

"Yes, assuredly you are my pet ewe, and always shall be. The shepherd has a strong crook with which he will drive away those who would injure you. Rely on your shepherd for the care of your tranquillity, and the peace of your future life."

In the evening the king visited me. He was embarrassed, but I set him at ease by showing him a laughing countenance, talking only of his present, which I had in my ears, and shaking my head about to keep the drops in motion, which sparkled with great brilliancy. He was pleased at this, and did not leave me all the evening. In the morning we were the best friends in the world.

Some days elapsed, when comte Jean came to me, bringing two infamous articles which had appeared in the "<Nouvelles a la Main>," and were directed against me. They were atrocious and deeply chagrined me: I placed them on the mantel-piece, where all who came in could see them. The duc de Duras read them, and said, "Conceal these atrocities from the king."

"No," was my reply, "I wish him to read them, that he may know how his affections are respected, and how the police of Paris are employed in doing their duty to the throne."

These last words annoyed M. de Duras, between whom and M. de Sartines there was a connection: the duke was indebted to the lieutenant-general of police for the special surveillance which he kept over a young girl of whom he, the duc de Duras, was foolishly enamoured. Trembling for his M. de Sartines, he wrote to him in haste, but had not courage or talent enough to undertake the defence of the guilty person.

The king came as usual; his general station was at the chimney-piece, where he amused himself with looking at the baubles that ornamented it. The "<Nouvelles a la Main>" fell in his way. He read them once, then again; then, without uttering a word, threw them into the fire. I observed him, and saw that he was full of emotion which he sought to conceal, but the anger burst forth soon. The prince de Soubise, who supped with us that evening, asked the duc de Duras if he had read the ""

"No," was the reply; "I seldom read such nonsense."

"And you are quite right," said the king. "There is at present a most inconceivable mania for writing. What is the use, I ask you, gentlemen, of this deluge of books and pamphlets with which France is inundated? They only contain the spirit of rebellion: the freedom of writing ought not to be given to every body. There should be in a well-regulated state seven or eight writers, not more; and these under the inspection of government. Authors are the plague of France; you will see whither they will lead it."

The king spoke this with an animated air, and if at this moment M. de la Vrilliere had come to ask for a against a writer, the king would not have refused it.

"Besides," added the king, in a tone of less anger, but no less emphatically, "I see with pain that the police do not do their duty with regard to all these indignities."

"Yet," said the duc de Duras, "M. de Sartines does wonders."

"Then why does he tolerate such insults? I will let him know my discontent."

The duc de Duras was alarmed, and kept his mouth closed. The king then, resuming his gaiety, joked the two gentlemen on their secret intrigues: then changing the conversation suddenly, he talked of the expected arrival of the king of Denmark.

"Duc de Duras," said he, "you and your son must do the office of master of ceremonies to his majesty. I hope you will endeavor to amuse him."

"Yes, sire."

"Mind, what you undertake is no joke. It is no easy matter to amuse a king."

This was a truth which I perceived at every moment, and our monarch was not the one to be amused with trifling exertion. Frequently when he entered my apartment he threw himself on an ottoman, and yawned most excessively, yes, yawned in my company. I had but one mode of rousing him from this apathy, but it was a sure one. I spoke of the high magistracy and its perpetual resistance to the throne. Then the king aroused, instantly sprung from his seat, traversed the room with rapid strides, and declaimed vigorously against the ; thus he styled the parliaments. I confess, however, that I only had recourse to the "black gowns" at the last extremity. Little did I think that at a later period I should league myself against them. On the one hand, the duc d'Aiguillon hated them mortally, and on the other, the comte Jean, like a real Toulousian, would have carried them in his slippers; so that wavering between the admiration of the one and the hatred of the other, I knew not which to listen to, or which party to side with. But to return to present matters.

The king was always thinking of the "< Nouvelles a la Main,>" and determined to avenge me as openly as I had been attacked. Two or three days afterwards he gave a supper, to which he invited the duchesse and comtesse de Grammont, madame de Forcalquier, the princess de Marsan, the marechale de Mirepoix, and the comtesses de Coigny and de Montbarrey. They were seated at table laughing and amusing themselves; they talked of the pleasure of being to , of having no ; they pierced me with a hundred thrusts; they triumphed! And yet the king was laughing in his sleeve. At a premeditated signal the duc d'Aiguillon, one of the guests, asked his majesty if he had seen the comtesse du Barry that day. This terrible name, thrown suddenly into the midst of my enemies, had the effect of a thunder-clap. All the ladies looked at each other first and then at the king, and the duc d'Aiguillon, reserving profound silence. His majesty then replied, that he had not had the happiness of visiting me that day, not having had one moment's leisure; then eulogized me at great length, and ended by saying to the duke, "If you see the comtesse before I do, be sure to say that I drank this glass of wine to her health."

The ladies did not anticipate this. The duchesse de Grammont particularly, in spite of long residence at court, turned pale to her very ears, and I believe but for etiquette she would have fallen into a swoon. I learnt afterwards from the marechale de Mirepoix, that the duchesse, on going home, gave herself up to a fit of rage, which did not terminate even on the following day. When the king related this occurrence to me, he was as proud of it as if he had done a most courageous deed.

But I have omitted a day which was of great importance to me in its consequences. I mean the day which followed that on which I had complained to the duc de Duras of M. the lieutenant of police. In the morning early my sister-in-law came into my room.

"Sister," said she, "comte Jean is here with M. de Sartines, who begs to pay his respects to you. Will you receive him?"

"M. de Sartines! Yes, let him come in; I will treat him as he deserves."

Comte Jean then came in, preceded by the lieutenant of police: he wore a large peruke with white powder, and curled with the utmost care. Wigs were his mania, and he had a room filled from floor to ceiling with these ornaments. The duc d'Ayen said, that he never should be in trouble about the council of state, for in case of need, it might be found and replenished from the house of the lieutenant of police. Let us leave wigs and revert to M. de Sartines.

He appeared before me with the air of Tartuffe, and, forgive the phrase, .

"Madame," said he to me, "I have been informed that I am in disgrace with you, and have come to inquire how I may extricate myself from this misfortune."

"You ought to know, sir. Twice in one month have I been shamefully insulted; and yet the first intimation of such a thing ought to have put you on your guard."

M. de Sartines, whom my tone had much surprised, endeavored to justify himself, when comte Jean said to him,

"My dear lieutenant of police, all you have said goes for nothing. One thing is certain, and that is, that there is a deficiency of respect towards my sister-in-law. You say that it is not your fault: what proof do you give us of this? What inquiries have you made? What measures have you taken? Any? Why do you come to us if you aid our enemies?"

M. de Sartines would fain have ensconced himself in his own dignity.

"M. du Barry," was his reply, "I shall render an account of my conduct to the king."

"Very well, sir," I replied, "but do not suppose that either you or the Choiseuls can give me any cause of fear."

M. de Sartines was thunderstruck; my boldness astonished him. At length he said,

"Madame, you are angry with me causelessly; I am more negligent than culpable. It is useless to say this to the king."

"I will not conceal from you, sir, that he knows it all, and is greatly discontented with you. "

"I am lost then," said M. de Sartines.

"Lost! not precisely," replied comte Jean; "but you must decide at once and for ever what party you will join. If you are with us they will use you harshly; if you take the opposite party look to yourself. Choose."

After some turnings and twistings, accompanied with compliments, M. de Sartines declared that he would range himself under our banner. Then I extended to him my hand in token of reconciliation; he took it with respect, and kissed it with gallantry. Up to this time we had conversed with feelings of restraint and standing; but now we seated ourselves, and begun a conference in form, as to the manner of preventing a recurrence of the offensive outrages against me. As a proof of good intention M. de Sartines told me the author of the two articles of which I complained. He was a wretch, named Ledoux, who for twelve hundred livres per annum wrote down all those who displeased the duchesse de Grammont. This lady had no fear of doing all that was necessary to remove every obstacle to the publication of such infamies.

After M. de Sartines had given us all the details which we desired, and after I had promised to reconcile him to his master, he went away delighted with having seen me. Believe me, my friend, it is necessary to be as handsome as I am, that is to say, as I was, to seduce a lieutenant of police.



CHAPTER VIII

The sieur Ledoux—The —The duc de la Vrilliere— Madame de Langeac—M. de Maupeou—Louis XV—The comte Jean

On that very evening, the king having come to me, I said to him,

"Sire, I have made acquaintance with M. de Sartines."

"What! has he been to make friends with you?"

"Something like it: but he has appeared to me less culpable than I thought. He had only yielded to the solicitation of my personal enemy."

"You cannot have one at my court, madame; the lieutenant of police would have done well not to have named her to you."

"Thanks to him, however, I shall now know whom I ought to mistrust. I know also who is the author of the two scurrilous paragraphs."

"Some scamp, no doubt; some beggarly scoundrel."

"A monsieur Ledoux."

"Ah, I know the fellow. His bad reputation has reached me. It must be stopped at last."

So saying, Louis XV went to the chimney, and pulled the bell-rope with so much vehemence that ten persons answered it at once.

"Send for the duc de la Vrilliere; if he be not suitably attired let him come in his night-gown, no matter so that he appear quickly."

On hearing an order given in this manner a stranger might have supposed the king crazy, and not intent on imprisoning a miserable libeller. I interceded in his favor, but Louis XV, delighted at an opportunity of playing the king at a small cost, told me that it was no person's business, and he would be dictated to by no one. I was silent, reserving myself until another opportunity when I could undertake the defence of the poor devil.

The duc de la Vrilliere arrived, not in a dressing-gown, as the king had authorized, but in magnificent costume. He piqued himself on his expenditure, and always appeared superbly attired, altho' the splendor of his apparel could not conceal the meanness of his look. He was the oldest secretary of state, and certainly was the least skilful, least esteemed, least considered. Some time after his death some one said of him in the presence of the duc d'Ayen, that he had been an unfortunate man, for he had been all his life the butt of public hatred and universal contempt. "Rather say," replied the duke, "that he has been a fortunate man; for if justice had been rendered to him according to his deserts, he would have been hanged at least a dozen times."

The duc d'Ayen was right: M. de la Vrilliere was a brazen-faced rogue; a complete thief, without dignity, character, or heart. His cupidity was boundless: the emanated from his office, and he carried on an execrable trade in them. If any person wished to get rid of a father, brother, or husband, they only had to apply to M. de la Vrilliere. He sold the king's signature to all who paid ready money for it. This man inspired me with an invincible horror and repugnance. For his part, as I was not disgusting, he contented himself with hating me; he was animated against me by his old and avaricious mistress, madame de Langeac, alias Subutin. Langeac could not endure me. She felt that it was better to be the mistress of Louis XV than that of the <petit la Vrilliere >, for so her lover was called at court. I knew that she was no friend of mine, and that her lover sided with the Choiseuls against me; and was consequently the more delighted to see the little scoundrel come to receive the order for avenging me. He entered with an air of embarrassment; and whilst he made me a salute as low as to the king, this latter, in a brief severe tone, ordered him to send the sieur Ledoux to Saint Lazare forthwith. He departed without reply, and half an hour afterwards returned, to say that it was done. The king then said to him,

"Do you know this lady?"

"No, sire."

"Well, I desire you henceforward to have the greatest consideration for her as my best friend, and whoever wishes to prove his zeal for me, will honor and cherish her."

The king then invited him to sup with us, and I am sure that during the whole repast I was the hardest morsel he had to digest.

Some days afterwards I made acquaintance with a person much more important than the little duke, and destined to play a great part in the history of France. I mean M. de Maupeou, the late chancellor, who, in his disgrace, would not resign his charge. M. de Maupeou possessed one of those firm and superior minds, which, in spite of all obstacles, change the face of empires. Ardent, yet cool; bold, but reflective; the clamors of the populace did not astonish, nor did any obstacles arrest him. He went on in the direct path which his will chalked out. Quitting the magistracy, he became its most implacable enemy, and after a deadly combat he came off conqueror. He felt that the moment had arrived for freeing royalty from the chains which it had imposed on itself. It was necessary, he has said to me a hundred times, for the kings of France in past ages to have a popular power on which they could rely for the overturning of the feudal power. This power they found in the high magistracy; but since the reign of Louis XIII the mission of the parliaments had finished, the nobility was reduced, and they became no less formidable than the enemy whom they had aided in subduing.

"Before fifty years," pursued M. de Maupeou, "kings will be nothing in France, and parliaments will be everything."

Talented, a good speaker, even eloquent, M. de Maupeou possessed qualities which made the greatest enterprises successful. He was convinced that all men have their price, and that it is only to find out the sum at which they are purchasable.* As brave personally as a marechal of France, his enemies (and he had many) called him a coarse and quarrelsome man. Hated by all, he despised men in a body, and jeered at them individually; but little sensible to the charms of our sex, he only thought of us by freaks, and as a means of relaxation. This is M. de Maupeou, painted to the life. As for his person, you know it as well as I do. I have no need to tell you, that he was little, ugly, and his complexion was yellow, bordering upon green. It must be owned, however, that his face, full of thought and intelligence, fully compensated for all the rest.

*This gentleman would have been an able coadjutor for Sir Robert Walpole. -Trans.

You know how, as first president of the parliament of Paris, he succeeded his father as vice-chancellor. At the resignation of the titular M. de Lamoignon*, the elder Maupeou received his letters of nomination, and as soon as they were registered, he resigned in favor of his son. The Choiseuls had allowed the latter to be nominated, relying on finding him a creature. I soon saw that the Choiseuls were mistaken.

*In September, 1768. (au.)

It was in the month of October, that Henriette, always my favorite, came to me with an air of unusual mystery, to say, that a black* and ugly gentleman wished to see me; that on the usual reply that I was not visible, he had insisted, and sent, at the same time, a cautiously sealed note. I took it, opened, and read these words: —

*i.e., black-haired and/or dressed in black (Gutenberg ed.)

"The chancellor of France wishes to have the honor of presenting his respectful homage to madame la comtesse du Barry."

"Let him come in," I said to Henriette.

"I will lay a wager, madame, that he comes to ask some favor."

"I believe," replied I, "that he is more frequently the solicited than the solicitor."

Henriette went out, and in a few minutes led in, thro' the private corridors which communicated with my apartment, his highness monseigneur Rene Nicolas Charles Augustin de Maupeou, chevalier and chancellor of France. As soon as he entered I conceived a good opinion of him, altho' I had only seen him walk. His step was firm and assured, like that of a man confident in the resources of his own talents.

"Madame la comtesse du Barry," he said, "would have a right to complain of me, if I did not come and lay my person at her feet. I had the more impatience to express to her my devotion, as I feared she had been prejudiced against me."

"How, monseigneur?"

"The gate by which I entered the ministry—"

"Is not agreeable to me, as being that of my enemies, but I feel assured that you will not side with them against me."

"Certainly not, madame; it is my wish to give you pleasure in every thing, and I flatter myself I may merit your friendship."

After many other compliments, the Chancellor asked me, with much familiarity, when my presentation was to take place, and why it had not yet occurred. I replied, that the delay arose from the intrigues of Choiseul, and the king shrunk from the discontent of a handful of courtiers.

"I am sorry for it," said M. de Maupeou; "in the first place, madame, because of the interest I take in you, and also because for his majesty, it would be a means of striking terror into the opposing party. You know, madame, how annoying parliaments are to all your friends, and with what bitterness those of Bretagne and Paris, at this moment, are pursuing the duc d'Aiguillon."

"Do you think," I replied with emotion, "that matters are unfavorable towards him?"

"I hope not, but he must be warmly supported."

"Ah! I will aid him with all my influence. He is no doubt innocent of the crimes imputed to him."

"Yes, certainly. He has done no other wrong than to defend the authority of the crown against the enmity of the parliaments."

We continued some time to talk of parliaments and parliament men: then we agreed that M. de Maupeou should see me again, accompanied by the duc d'Aiguillon, who should have the credit of presenting him, and he left me with as much mystery as he had entered.

When the king came to see me, I said to him, "I have made acquaintance with your chancellor: he is a very amiable man, and I hope that he will not conduct himself improperly towards me."

"Where did you see him?"

"Here, sire, and but a short time since."

"He came then to visit you?"

"Yes, in person, that he might obtain the favor of being permitted to pay his court to me."

"Really what you tell me seems perfectly unaccountable. He has then burst from the hands of the Choiseuls? It is amusing. Poor Choiseul, when soliciting for Maupeou, he most tremendously deceived himself."

"At least, sire, you must own that he has given you no fool."

"True. The chancellor is a man full of talents, and I do not doubt but that he will restore to my crown that power which circumstances have deprived it of. However, if you see him familiarly, advise him not to persuade me to extreme measures. I wish all should work for the best, without violent courses and without painful struggles."

These last words proved to me the natural timidity of the king.

"I knew very well," added the king, "that Maupeou would not prove a man for the Choiseuls. The main point is, that he should be mine, and I am content."

Louis XV was then satisfied with the chancellor, but he was not equally so with the comte Jean.

"I do not like," said he to me, "your Du Barry monkey. He is a treacherous fellow, who has betrayed his party, and I hope some of these mornings we shall hear that the devil has wrung his neck."



CHAPTER IX

The king of Denmark—The courtesans of Paris—The duc de Choiseul and the bishop of Orleans—Witty repartees of the king of Denmark— His visit to madame du Barry—"The court of king Petaud," a satire— Letter of the duc d'Aiguillon to Voltaire—The duchesse de Grammont mystified—Unpublished letter of Voltaire's

>From this moment, and in spite of all that comte Jean could say against it, a new counsellor was admitted to my confidence. He was the chancellor. The duc d'Aiguillon and he were on very good terms, and these two, with the abbe Teray, of whom I shall speak to you presently, formed a triumvirate, which governed France from the disgrace of M. de Choiseul to the death of the king. But before I enter upon a detail of those politics, of which you will find that I understand something, allow me to continue the history of my presentation, and also to give some account of Christian VII.

You know that his Danish majesty was expected with anything but pleasure by the king of France, and with curiosity by the rest of the nation. Men and women were impatient to see a king, under twenty years of age, who was traversing Europe with a design of attaining instruction. Married to a lovely woman, Caroline Mathilde, he had left her on the instant, without suspecting that this separation would prove fatal to both. At Paris, the real character of this prince was not known, but a confused report of his gallantry was spread abroad, on which all the courtesans of note in the city began to try all arts to please him, each hoping to attract him to herself, and dip into his strong box. M. de Sartines amused us one evening, the king and myself, by telling us of the plans of these ladies. Some were going to meet his Danish majesty, others were to await him at the barrier, and two of the most renowned, mesdemoiselles Gradi and Laprairie, had their portraits painted, to send to the young monarch as soon as he should arrive.

Christian VII entered Paris the latter end of the month of October, 1768. MM. de Duras complimented him in the king's name, and informed him that they were charged with the office of receiving his commands during his residence in Paris. The interview of the king and the illustrious stranger took place at Versailles. Christian VII came thither in the state-carriage, and was conducted by the duc de Duras into the apartment of the dauphin, where he remained until Louis XV was prepared to receive him. I had heard much discussion about this reception. It was said, that to make a distinction between sovereign of a petty state and that of the superb kingdom of France, it was requisite that the former should await for some time the audience which the latter accorded. I am sure that when the peace with Frederick was agitated, the face of Louis XV was not more grave and serious than during this puerile debate about etiquette.

The duc de Choiseul, who had the control of foreign affairs, was in the apartment to receive his Danish majesty, with his colleagues, the duc de Praslin, the comte de Saint-Florentin (whom I have called by anticipation duc de la Vrilliere), M. Bertin, M. Mainon d'Invau, controller of the finances, and M. de Jarente, bishop of Orleans and one of the ministry. He kept himself somewhat in the background, as tho' from humility. The duc de Choiseul came up to him, and said, with a smile,

"Monseigneur, what brings you in contact with a heretic?"

"To watch for the moment of penitence."

"But what will you do if it become necessary to teach him his ?"

M. de Jarente understood the joke, and was the first to jest upon his own unepiscopal conduct, replying to the duc de Choiseul,

"There is a person present who knows it; he will whisper it to me, and, if necessary, the also."

The king of Denmark was congratulated by the duc de Choiseul, who discharged this duty with as much grace as wit. Afterwards M. Desgranges, master of the ceremonies, having announced that Louis XV was visible, the king of Denmark, preceded by his gentlemen and the French ministers and lords, went to the king's cabinet, in which two arm-chairs precisely alike were prepared, but his majesty of Denmark positively refused to be seated. He entered into conversation, and felicitated himself on seeing a monarch, whose renown filled Europe, and whom he should take as his model. During this conversation Christian VII displayed the greatest amiability. Our king, speaking to him, said, "I am old enough to be your father" ; to which he replied, "All my conduct towards you shall be that of a son." This was thought admirable; and at the termination of the interview Louis XV appeared charmed with his brother of Denmark. "He is a complete Frenchman," said he to me, "and I should be sorry if he left me dissatisfied."

That same evening Christian VII visited monseigneur the dauphin, in whom he did not find the urbanity of his grandfather. The conversation was short and abridged out of regard to our prince, who only stammered, without being able to find one polished phrase. Never was there in his youth a more timid and awkwardly conducted prince than the present king. I shall mention him and his brothers hereafter, but will now direct my immediate attention to the king of Denmark. He supped the same evening with Louis XV at a table with four and twenty ladies of the court, selected from amongst those most celebrated for the charms of their persons or their wit. As his Danish majesty was greatly struck with madame de Flaracourt, the king asked him how old the lady might be in his opinion.

"Thirty, perhaps," was the reply.

"Thirty, brother! she is fifty."

"Then age has no influence at your court." I shall not copy the "" to tell you of the sojourn of Christian VII at Paris. I am not writing the journal of this prince but of myself. The king one day said to me,

"My brother of Denmark has expressed to the duc de Duras a great desire to pay his respects to you, if you will accede to his wishes. I leave you entirely sovereign mistress of yourself, not without some fear however that the young king will steal away your heart from me."

"Ah, sire," I replied, "that is an unjust suspicion; I should be angry about it if it were not a joke, and would refuse to see the king of Denmark did I not know how fully you are assured of my attachment to you." "I should not be so jealous, madame, if I did not set so much value on it," was the reply of the king, as he kissed my hand.

The duc de Duras came the next day to inform me of the request of his new king. It was agreed, in order to keep the interview secret, that I should receive him at my own mansion in the Rue de la Jussienne, and that he should come there without suite, and with the strictest incognito. At the day and hour agreed he entered my house, escorting two strangers of admirable presence. One was the king of Denmark, under the name of comte de ———, and the other a nobleman of his suite. Christian VII appeared to me a very handsome man. He had large and singularly expressive eyes; too much so, perhaps, for their brilliancy was not of good augury; and I was not surprised at hearing subsequently that his reason had abandoned him, altho' he possessed and exerted his wit most perfectly during our conversation, in which he displayed the greatest gallantry. I could not reproach him with one single expression that was objectionable, altho' the subject of conversation was delicate. He discoursed of the feelings of the king towards me, and yet said not a word that was unsuited or out of place, nothing but what was in the best taste, and expressed with the utmost delicacy. I asked him if the ladies of Denmark were handsome. "I thought, madame," was his reply, "until now, that the ladies of my kingdom were the most lovely in Europe."

We did not talk of myself only: Christian VII spoke of Paris with enthusiasm. "It is the capital of the world," he remarked, "and our states are but the provinces." He sought out our most celebrated and , and was particularly delighted with d'Alembert, Diderot, la Harpe, and M. the comte de Buffon. He greatly regretted that Voltaire was not in Paris, and expressed his great desire to see at Ferney the great genius (as he termed him) who instructed and amused the world. He appeared weary of the fetes which were given, and especially with the deadly-lively company of the two Duras. It was enough to kill you to have only one of them, and you may imagine the torture of being bored with both. The duke had promised Louis XV to be as amusing as possible too! After a conversation of three hours, which his majesty (of course) said had appeared but of a moment, he left me delighted with his person, wit, and manners.

When Louis XV saw me, he inquired my opinion of his Danish majesty.

"He is," I replied, "a well-educated king, and that they say is a rarity."

"True," said Louis XV, "there are so many persons who are interested in our ignorance, that it is a miracle if we escape out of their hands as reasonable beings."

I went on to tell the king our conversation.

"Ah," cried he, "here is one who will increase the vanity of the literary tribe: they want it, certainly. All these wits are our natural born enemies; and think themselves above us; and the more we honor them, the greater right do they assume to censure and despise us."

This was the usual burden of his song: he hated men of learning. Voltaire especially was his detestation, on account of the numerous epigrams which this great man had written against him; and Voltaire had just given fresh subject of offence by publishing "<La Cour du Roi Petaud" ("The Court of the King Petaud," ) a satire evidently directed as strongly against the king as your humble servant. M. de Voltaire had doubtless been encouraged to write this libel by the Choiseul party. He was at a distance, judged unfavorably of me, and thought he could scourge me without compromising himself.

It was comte Jean who brought me these verses, in which there was less poetry than malevolence. I read them, was indignant, and wept. The duc d'Aiguillon came, and finding me in tears, inquired the cause.

"Here," said I, giving him the poem, "see if you can bear so gross an insult." He took the paper, cast his eyes over it, and having folded it up, put it into his pocket.

"It was ill done," said he, "to show this to you. I knew of it yesterday, and came now to talk with you of it."

"I rely on you to do me justice."

"" cried the duke, "would you lose yourself in the eyes of all France? You would place yourself in a fine situation by declaring yourself the persecutrix of Voltaire. Only an enemy could have thus advised you."

"That enemy was comte Jean."

"Then your imprudence equals your zeal. Do you not perceive the advantage it would give to your adversaries were we to act in this manner? To the hatred of the court would be united that of the , women, and young persons. Voltaire is a god, who is not to be smitten without sacrilege."

"Must I then tamely submit to be beaten?"

"Yes, for the moment. But it will not last long; I have just written this letter to M. de Voltaire, that peace may be made between you:—

"SIR,—The superiority of your genius places you amongst the number of the potentates of Europe. Every one desires, not only to be at peace with you, but even, if it be possible, to obtain your esteem. I flatter myself with being included in the ranks of your admirers; my uncle has spoken to you many times of my attachment to your person, and I embrace the opportunity of proving this by a means that now presents itself.

"Persons in whom you place too much confidence have spread abroad, under your name, copies of a poem, entitled '<La Cour du Roi Petaud.>' In this, wherein insult is cast on a personage who should be exempt from such offence, is also outraged, in a most indecent way, a lovely female, whom you would adore as we do, if you had the happiness to know her. Is it for the poet of the lover of Gabrielle to carry desolation into the kingdom of the Graces?

"Your correspondents use you ill by leaving you in ignorance, that this young person has immense favor here; that we are all at her feet; that she is all powerful, and her anger is to be particularly avoided. She is the more to be propitiated, as yesterday, in Presence of a certain person whom your verses had greatly irritated, she took up your defence with as much grace as generosity. You see, sir, that you ought not to be on bad terms with her.

"My uncle allows me to see, as one of the initiated, what you call your scraps, which are delicious feasts to us. I read them to the lady in question, who takes great delight in reciting, or hearing others recite, your verses, and she begs you will send her some as a proof of your repentance. Under these circumstances, if your bellicose disposition urges you on to war, we hope, before you continue it, that you will loyally and frankly declare it.

"In conclusion, be assured that I shall defend you to my utmost, and am for life,

"Yours, etc."

Whilst we were awaiting Voltaire's reply, I determined to avenge myself on the duchesse de Grammont, who had encouraged him in his attack; and thus did I serve this lady. Persuaded that she did not know the writing of his Danish majesty, I wrote the following letter to her:—

"MADAME LA DUCHESSE,—I have struggled to this time to avoid confessing to you how I am subdued. Happy should I be could I throw myself at your feet. My rank alone must excuse my boldness. Nothing would equal my joy if this evening, at the theatre at madame de Villeroi's, you would appear with blue feathers in your head-dress. I do not add my name; it is one of those which should not be found at the bottom of a declaration of love."

In spite of all her penetration, the duchesse de Grammont did not perceive, in the emphatic tone of this letter, that it was a trick. Her self-love made her believe that a woman of more than forty could be pleasing to a king not yet twenty. She actually went in the evening to madame de Villeroi's dressed in blue, with a blue plumed head-dress. She was placed next to his Danish majesty. Christian VII addressed her in most courteous terms, but not one word of love.

The duchesse imagining that the prince was timid, looked at him with eyes of tenderness, and endeavored to attract and encourage him by all means she could devise, but the monarch did not understand her. The duchesse then addressed a few words, which she hoped would lead to an explanation, but, to her dismay, his majesty did not appear to understand her. Madame de Grammont was furious at this affair. The duc d'Aiguillon, who was close to her, had seen all, heard all, and related particulars to me. The same day I told the king of my trick and its success. He laughed excessively, and then scolded me for at all compromising his Danish majesty.

"How, sire?" was my reply. "I did not sign his name; I have not forged his signature. The vanity of the duchesse has alone caused all the ridiculous portion of this joke. So much the worse for her if she did not succeed."

I did not, however, limit my revenge to this. A second letter, in the same hand, was addressed to my luckless enemy. This time she was informed that she been made a butt of, and mystified. I learned from M. de Sartines, who, after our compact, gave me details of all, the methods she had pursued to detect the author of these two epistles, and put a termination to all these inquiries, by denouncing myself to M. de Sartines; who then gave such a turn to the whole matter, that the duchesse could never arrive at the truth.

Voltaire, in the meantime, was not slow in reply; and as I imagine that you will not be sorry to read his letter, I transcribe it for you:—

"MONSIEUR LE DUC,— I am a lost, destroyed man. If I had strength enough to fly, I do not know where I should find courage to take refuge. I! Good God! I am suspected of having attacked that which, in common with all France, I respect! When there only remains to me the smallest power of utterance, but enough to chant a that I should employ it in howling at the most lovely and amiable of females! Believe me, monsieur le duc, that it is not at the moment when a man is about to render up his soul, that a man of my good feeling would outrage the divinity whom he adores. "No, I am not the author of the '<Cour du Roi Petaud.>' The verses of this rhapsody are not worth much, it is true; but indeed they are not mine: they are too miserable, and of too bad a style. All this vile trash spread abroad in my name, all those pamphlets without talent, make me lose my senses, and now I have scarcely enough left to defend myself with. It is on you, monsieur le duc, that I rely; do not refuse to be the advocate of an unfortunate man unjustly accused. Condescend to say to this young lady, that I have been before embroiled with madame de Pompadour, for whom I professed the highest esteem; tell her, that at the present day especially, the favorite of Caesar is sacred for me; that my heart and pen are hers, and that I only aspire to live and die under her banner.

"As to the scraps you ask for, I have not at this moment any suitable. Only the best viands are served up at the table of the goddesses. If I had any I would present them to the person of whom you speak to me. Assure her, that one day the greatest merit of my verse will be to have them recited by her lips; and entreat her, until she bestows immortality on me, to permit me to prostrate myself at her beautiful feet.

"I will not conclude my letter, monsieur le duc, without thanking you a thousand times for the advice you have given me. This proof of your kindness will, if possible augment the sincere attachment I bear to you. I salute you with profound respect."

As it is bold to hold the pen after having transcribed anything of M. de Voltaire's, I leave off here for to-day.



CHAPTER X

When is the presentation to take place?—Conversation on this subject with the king—M. de Maupeou and M. de la Vauguyon— Conversation on the same subject with the king and the duc de Richelieu—M. de la Vrilliere—M. Bertin—-Louis XV and the comtesse—The king's promise—The fire-works, an anecdote—The marquise de Castellane—M. de Maupeou at the duc de Choiseul's— The duchesse de Grammont

In spite of the love of the duchesse de Grammont, the king of Denmark departed at last. Louis XV having resumed his former habits, I began to meditate seriously on my presentation; and my friends employed themselves to the utmost in furthering my desires and insuring my triumph.

The chancellor, who each day became more attached to my interests, opened the campaign. One day, when the king was in a rage with the parliaments, the chancellor seized the opportunity to tell him that the cabal, who were opposed to my presentation, testified so much resistance, under the idea, and in the hope, that they would be supported by the parliaments of Paris.

"If your majesty," added the chancellor, "had less condescension towards these malcontents, they would fear your authority more."

"You will see," replied the king, "that it will be their audacity which will urge me on to a step, which otherwise I should wish to avoid."

Whilst the hatred which M. de Maupeou bore towards the parliaments served me in this way, the love of M. de la Vauguyon for the Jesuits turned to even more advantage. The good duke incessantly talked to me of his dear Jesuits; and I as constantly replied, that my influence would not be salutary until after my presentation, M. de la Vauguyon had sense enough to perceive the embarrassment of my situation, and saw that before I could think of others I must think of myself. Having taken "sweet counsel" with the powerful heads of his company, he freely gave me all his influence with the king.