The unfortunate author of all this disturbance was the unlucky valet; who, in his overeagerness to reach his Dulcinea, had attempted to climb his ladder so nimbly, that it fell down, and, striking against the windows of a room near which he had fixed it, had broken several panes of glass. The poor valet never stopped to replace the ladder; but, terrified as well as hurt by his rapid descent, scrambled off as well as he could, abandoning his master in his present critical situation.

The ladder thrown down in the courtyard was abundant proof that some audacious attempt had been made upon the lives and safety of the inhabitants of the castle; and the general determination was to catch the thieves: for, it was presumed, as no outlet for their escape was discernible, that they must be concealed within its walls. The servants, with their master at their head, were speedily assembled for the purpose, when the absence of the chevalier de Cressy was observed. Where could he be? was the general wonder. Was it possible that, amidst the universal uproar with which the castle had resounded, he had slept so soundly as to be yet unconscious of all this bustle? An over-officious friend was upon the point of going to his chamber, to ascertain the cause of his absenting himself at such a moment, when madame de l'Hopital sent to request her husband would come to her immediately. "Sir," said she, when they were alone, "the disturbance which has thus broken our rest is not the work of thieves, but originates in the shameless licentiousness of a man unworthy of his name and the rank he occupies. The chevalier de Cressy, forgetful of his being your guest, and of respecting the honor of all beneath your roof, has dared to carry on a base intrigue with my woman, in whose apartment you will find him at this very minute. A conduct so profligate and insulting fills me with an indignation which I think that you, sir, after what you have heard, cannot but partake."

The marquis de l'Hopital, who did not see the thing in the same serious light, sought to appease the virtuous indignation of his lady, and went himself to release the chevalier from his place of concealment; leading him thro' his own apartment to join the crowd of armed servants, who, as may be supposed, were unable to detect the supposed invaders of their repose.

On the following morning the chevalier as agreed upon, wrote a penitential letter to madame, entreating her pardon for his improper attentions to her servant, whom she affected to dismiss with every mark of gravest displeasure. The weeping Abigail threw herself at the feet of her mistress: and the compassionate marquis (before whom the scene was enacted), touched with pity, implored his lady to receive the afflicted and penitent Javotte once more into her service. This was at length granted to his solicitations; and Javotte received a hundred louis as the price of her silence, and found it sufficient compensation for the bad opinion the marquis entertained of her virtue.

The second trick the marchioness played her husband was not less amusing.

The chevalier de Cressy and herself could not meet so frequently as both desired; and whilst suffering under the void occasioned by his absence, chance threw in her way a young relative of her husband's, a youth of about eighteen, as beautiful as Love, and as daring as that god. They were then in the country during the fine days of summer, and both time and place were favorable to the prosecution of their growing passion. One day madame de l'Hopital and her cousin were sauntering about the park heedless of the approaching dinner-hour, and equally deaf to the sound of the dinner-bell, which rung its accustomed peal in vain for them whose ears were occupied in listening to sweeter sounds. At length the master of the house, alarmed at the protracted absence of his wife and friend, went himself, attended by many guests assembled at his house, in search of the stray ones; the servants likewise received orders to disperse themselves over the grounds in different directions; and madame de l'Hopital and her companion were only aroused to a recollection of the flight of time by hearing their names loudly shouted by a dozen different voices. Fortunately they were just in time to separate in opposite paths, and thus to enter the castle without any suspicion being excited of their having been so recently in each other's company. The marquis angrily remonstrated with his lady for having obliged him to send in search of her, and she excused herself by protesting that she had not heard the dinner-bell. The marquis replied, that the thing was impossible; and after some angry discussion the matter rested there.

A few days after this the marchioness, with her husband and cousin, were rambling over the grounds, when they found themselves at the entrance of a hermitage, where madame de l'Hopital had told the marquis she had sat down to rest herself on the day of her failing to attend the dinner-hour. M. de l'Hopital resumed the dispute, by protesting that from this situation the dinner-bell might easily be heard: the lady continued firm in protesting it could not, till, at last, feigning extreme anger, she exclaimed. "Well then, sir, since you refuse to believe assertion, go yourself and ring the bell as loudly as you please, your cousin will remain here with me, and determine if it be possible to distinguish the sound from here."

The fool of a marquis set off in the height of his zeal to convince his wife, and, arriving at the turret where the bell was placed, began ringing it with all his might and main, leaving the lovers the undisturbed opportunity they were not slow in taking advantage of. When the marquis had ceased his chimes, the loving pair went to meet him.

"Well, my good cousin," inquired he, as they approached, "which of us was right? Could you hear it or not?"

"Yourself, most assuredly," replied the young man, not without a slight blush. "I can assure you that both madame and myself heard the bell the whole time you were ringing it."

"There, I told you so; I told you so"; cried the delighted husband, triumphantly rubbing his hands.

I thought when this lively and piquant adventure was related to me, that it was well worthy of being immortalized by the pen of a La Fontaine. The marchioness gave these anecdotes with a grace and talent peculiarly her own; and I sometimes imagined that some of the many she favored us with had perhaps taken place in a more recent period than that she assigned to them; and that, in order to divert our suspicions as to who were the real actors, she frequently substituted the for what should have been with more correctness the time. With manners so calculated to win, she could not fail being a delightful companion, altho' in my heart I could not help giving the preference to the society of the marechale de Mirepoix.

Besides, the preference evinced by this lady in so generously separating herself from all her family, in order to attach herself to me, was not without its full value in my eyes. I knew myself to be generally disliked by her brother and sister-in-law, the prince and princesse de Beauvau, the latter of whom was secretly the mistress of the duc de Choiseul, over whom she exercised an equal empire with the duchesse de Grammont, and I was every day the object of some fresh attack on their part. I used sometimes to complain of this to the marechale. "My dear friend," she would reply, "I am sorry, but cannot help it; in the midst of times such as we live in, and in such a court too, the prince de Beauvau aspires to be a noble Roman, and would fain be the Cato of his country at least. When I recommend to him a greater degree of prudence, he talks to me of virtue, as tho' at Versailles duty did not consist in implicit obedience to the wishes of our royal master; either obedience or absence from court is the golden rule laid down, from which none dare deviate. As to my sister-in-law she aims at the heroic likewise, altho her models are formed from another school; in fact, she has pored over the romances of Cyrus. Cassander, and Clelia, till she is half bewildered, and holds forth upon the virtues of these famous heroines, till I am frequently upon the point of exclaiming, "Ah, my dear, it is all very fine; but Clelia and Mandane would not have shared their bed with the duc de Choiseul."

By these lively sallies the marechale succeeded in diverting my anger from her relations, and I generally forgot my resentment in a hearty fit of laughter, brought on by her sprightly conversation. I found myself becoming daily more attached to her, and her presence helped to console me for the many vexations I continually encountered.

The greatest disagreeableness I encountered was occasioned by the capricious behavior of the princesses, who sometimes received me with pleasure and at others evinced a disposition to annoy me in every possible way, according as it suited the whims and wishes of those about them. The following may serve as an instance of their versatility.

The prince de Conde having announced his intention of giving a grand fete at Chantilly, the princesses declared they would not be present if I were there. The prince de Conde, spite of his claims to the character of a great man, was nevertheless one of the most subtle courtiers; and as soon as he was informed of the princesses' intention, he came, without ceremony, to explain the matter to me. This was the first visit he had honored me with. "Madame," said he, "I had flattered myself you would have embellished Chantilly with your presence; but the beauties of the court, too justly alarmed at the idea of being eclipsed by your dazzling charms, have so successfully manoeuvred, that they have wrought upon the royal daughters of our august monarch to declare, that the beauty of their attending nymphs shall not be effaced by yours. You have too much good sense to see the affair in any but its true light; and the disappointment your absence will inflict on me would be too cruelly felt for endurance, did I not seek to pacify my anxious wishes on the subject, by obtaining your promise to pay me a visit when the king next honors Chantilly with his presence." I felt deeply flattered by the invitation. The prince continued to pay me several elegant and gallant compliments; and I was, upon the whole, charmed with our interview. However, the king was highly displeased with his daughters' proceedings. "I have a great inclination," said he, "to forbid their going to Chantilly at all. Upon my word, if I were to listen to them, they would fain make of me the same puppet they allow themselves to become in the hands of the greatest simpleton who will take the trouble of leading them."

I endeavored to appease his anger, by reminding him, that he could not expect perfection from his daughters; and that, forced as they were to hear me continually spoken ill of by my enemies, it was next to impossible they should be able to prevent themselves from adopting the opinion of those around them. "And that," said he, "is what I principally find fault with. What have they to do with aping the tone of those about them; and what point of their duty teaches them to detest those whom I love? I will take care to let them know my displeasure."

All my endeavors were in vain; I could obtain no change of his purpose; and, summoning the archbishop de Senlis, he spoke to him in a manner that plainly evinced his intention of making him responsible for the actions of the princesses. Poor M. de Roquelaure called all the saints in paradise to witness his innocence.

"Silence, sir," exclaimed the king, "I am perfectly certain this affair has not gone on without your knowledge and probable participation. I know you well for a person devoted to the ladies, as a gay, gallant gentleman need be: I know likewise that you expend the revenues of your bishopric and livings upon the prettiest girls of Paris; thus I can hardly suppose you would have counselled my daughters' conduct. No, I blame those wicked and vindictive scandal-mongers, whose age is their only protection, and those intriguing men who beset my daughters' ears."

"Sire," protested the trembling bishop, "I entreat you to believe I am innocent of the whole affair."

"Sir," interrupted the king, "I know well that you are as good a courtier as a prelate, but still I believe you merely ape your betters; and far from entertaining any personal dislike to the comtesse du Barry, you would not object to receive either the archbishopric of d'Albi or Sens from her hands, were they in her power to bestow."

The conversation went on in this style for more than half an hour. The king, who had amused himself highly at the terror of the bishop, left off in excellent humor.

This interview had not been productive of equal amusement to M. de Roquelaure, whose self-love had been deeply humbled by the way in which the king had spoken. No sooner did he feel himself at liberty, than he hastened to communicate to the princesses the violent displeasure they had excited; and these ladies, so brave and daring whilst their father appeared to offer no show of authority or anger, durst proceed no further when they heard of his seriously disapproving of it; and they felt the full inconsistency of their conduct, in first admitting me into their presence, and then refusing to meet me at any other place. The consequence of their deliberation upon the subject was to depute the bishop de Senlis to call upon me. This accommodating prelate discharged his mission with the utmost amenity, presenting me with the united compliments of the royal sisters, who all joined in requesting the pleasure of meeting me at Chantilly. Had not the prince de Conde held out the flattering prospect of giving me a fete wholly to myself, in all probability I should have profited by their invitation; but knowing of the secret intention of the prince, I returned for answer, "that it was sufficiently flattering and gratifying to me, to find that I still preserved any portion of the princesses' kind favor, but that I was abundantly honored by the intimation of my presence being agreeable. Nevertheless, as I had good authority for conjecturing that it might not be equally so to many of the ladies of their court, I should abstain from giving offence to any one by my presence."

"Ah, madame,,, cried M. de Roquelaure, "I entreat of you not to insist upon my carrying the latter part of this message to the princesses, they would be so much grieved."

"Well, then, sir," said I, "tell them that I am indisposed, and that the state of my health will detain me at Versailles."

'That indeed," said he, " is a more respectful message; and further I would venture to ask of your goodness, that since it is not your pleasure to honor Chantilly with your presence, that you will have the kindness to mention in the proper quarter, that far from my royal ladies opposing any obstacle to your going, they would have been much delighted with your presence there."

"Be assured, sir," answered I, " that I shall ever feel proud and honored by the princesses' notice; and I will take care that the faithful account of all their gracious condescension shall be faithfully and loudly reported."

The bishop departed much pleased with the success of his negotiation; and, above all, with the agreeable turn the affair had taken.

When I next saw the king, I said to him, "Your daughters, sire, are as amiable as you would have them; they have been informed that some evil disposed persons have asserted, that they had prohibited my being of the party to Chantilly; and in order to testify how differently they were disposed towards me, they despatched the bishop de Senlis."

"A most fit person to be intrusted with such a commission," replied the king; "for I have, in every instance, endeavored to justify the wishes of this holy pillar of the church, this worthy prelate with his double-faced politeness, towards those whom he openly compliments, and reviles in private, just as his interest may require it. Well! and what did you say to him?"

"That I most humbly thanked the princesses, but that the state of my health did not permit of my visiting Chantilly for the present."

"That is all very well," answered Louis XV; "you have framed your excuse with much generosity, which I greatly fear will meet with a very different turn; for if you do not accompany me to Chantilly, the report circulated will be, that the princesses have forbidden you their presence; which my dearly beloved daughters, whose characters I fully understand, will neither affirm nor deny before the public, whilst in private they will vow that they prohibited you from following them. Always excepting madame Louise, who is an angel upon earth, as she will most assuredly be one day in heaven, where I trust her prayers for me and mine will be heard."

I did not at the time pay any particular attention to the latter part of the king's discourse, for, indeed, the beginning was far more interesting to me; but when I afterwards learnt that madame Louise had quitted the grandeurs of Versailles for the gloom and austerity of a convent I recollected it, and easily comprehended that it was spoken in allusion to an event which took place some time afterwards, and of which I shall speak in its proper place. However, the king's prediction was exactly verified; and the report in general circulation was, that the princesses had declared their intention of not going to Chantilly; it was further rumored, that I was there, but in a private and concealed manner. This is wholly untrue; the king would never have permitted such a humiliation; nor do I believe I should have submitted to it had he even desired it. However all this may be, he sought to recompense me for his absence by writing a most delightful letter, which I will subjoin for your gratification. To me it was of so much the greater value, that having its royal writer's permission to show it, it became the first death-blow I aimed at the cabal against me. The king possessed a much greater portion of wit and talent than the weakness and timidity of his character permitted to appear.



CHAPTER XX

Unpublished letter of Louis XV—Madame du Barry's cousin, M. de Maupeou—The comtesse du Barry saves the life of a young girl seduced by the arts of the cure of her village—She obtains pardon of the comte and comtesse de Louerne—The king presents her with Lucienne—A second meeting with the youthful prophet—His further predictions—He is sought for—His mysterious letter to the countess

"How does my sweet friend contrive to bear our tedious separation? is she happy and amused? In that case I can say, she has greatly the advantage over him who now addresses her. No, my lovely countess, I am dragging on a tedious and uninteresting existence, spite of the great and earnest endeavors of my good cousin and host to provide for my enjoying the gaiety by which I am surrounded; but, alas! amidst the many faces with which his mansion is thronged, that one which is dearest to me is wanting, and all becomes a blank in my eyes; and I yawn with irrepressible weariness in the midst of the glittering pageants given to honor my arrival; and you may rest assured that I shall hail with delight the termination of a visit, which seems already to have swelled the period of our separation into ages. I will not attempt to conceal from you, that those who have good cause to envy your supreme dominion over my heart, have set every scheme in action to lead me even into a temporary oblivion of you, but their attempts are as vain as their impotent rivalry, and need cause no uneasiness to you, my beloved friend. I frequently smile at the vast pains and precautions of which my '' is the object; and I am encountering '' some of those fair ladies who would fain usurp your place, sometimes bedecked with jewels rare, and sometimes, as Racine says,

"<——— dans le simple appareil D'une beaute, qu'on vient d'arracher au sommeil.>'

"Madame de Grammont, for instance, takes an infinity of trouble respecting my choice of your successor, which she is resolved shall be either herself or one of her choosing. I protest to you that I find all these plots and counterplots very amusing; and can only say, that my daughters, who are completely duped by those practising them, must be more completely deceived than I had imagined possible. Nor can I quite deny that I feel a half mischievous delight in reducing to despair,

"'<———-ce peuple de rivales Qui toutes, disputant, d'un si grand interet, Des yeux d'Assuerus attendent leur arret.>'

" (which, of course, means me) keeps one perpetual reply to all their high-sounding praises and eulogiums of such or such a lady. 'She is well enough, certainly; but the comtesse du Barry excels her a hundredfold': then follow such shrugs, such contortions of countenance, and such vain efforts to repress the rage of disappointed vanity and ambition, that I am nearly ready to die with laughter.

"Apropos of dying; I inquired the number of deaths which took place at Chantilly last week; only four, they say! Now I think that number quite sufficient for the size of the place. I walked as far as the village cemetery, which is large and judiciously placed. I must tell you, that one of my footmen has gone to that last journey from which none return: he was a tall, presuming sort of fellow, remarkable for nothing but his impertinence, and the continual scrapes he was forever getting into amongst the soubrettes. However, he met with his death in some sudden brawl. My people sought to conceal this piece of intelligence from me; but having once heard of it, I despatched Flamarens to ascertain in what corner of the cemetery he has been interred.

"The duc de Tresmes talks much of you, and boasts greatly to the honor of your friendship; he has dubbed himself your ''; this is not amiss for a peer of France, and what is still more gratifying, he has assumed a title which, I believe, no one in the kingdom will attempt to dispute his incontestable claim to call his own. Villeroi is all impatience to return to Versailles. The dukes of Richelieu and d'Aiguillon, both uncle and nephew, recommend themselves to your kind recollection. Thus you see you may reckon upon a few devoted and attached friends, even without him, whose hand is busily tracing these lines, and he, I can promise you, is inferior to none in the truest love and affection for you.

"The ladies of whom I would have you be most on your guard are mesdames de C., de B., de P., de G. They really throw themselves in my way till I can call them nothing but fools for their pains; but I must do them the justice to say that they are less ambitious than you, and so that they could rob you of your place would care very little whether I could offer them my heart with the other honors to which they aspire; in fact, 'tis time we were together again, for the people here seem determined to profit by my stay amongst them. My cousin entertains us magnificently, and pleasure succeeds pleasure in a continual round of enchantment: he tells me he has others still more charming in store against the time when you will honor him with your presence. Am I right in promising this will be ere very long? Adieu, what a long letter have I written you. I will now conclude by bestowing an imaginary kiss on that lovely face, which must satisfy me till I have the felicity of seeing you again.

"And now, my dear friend and fairest countess, I will end my lengthened epistle by praying God to have you ever in His holy care and keeping." The receipt of this letter afforded me the liveliest pleasure, and I wrote to the king regularly every night and morning. I might here introduce a specimen of my own epistolary style, but I will not; for altho' the whimsical and extravagant things my pen gave utterance to were exactly to the king's taste, they might surprise you; but my royal correspondent loved the wild and bizarre turn of my expressions, and I fulfilled his wishes; perhaps it was not the only instance in which I gratified his inclination.

My , the chancellor of France, had remained to keep me company instead of joining the party at Chantilly. , say you, and by what right or title could M. de Maupeou become such? I will tell you. First of all he only aspired to the honor of relationship, but afterwards, turning over the archives of his family, he found the most incontestable proofs of his belonging to the ancient families of the du Barry; and full of joy, he hurried to me, unrolling at my feet his genealogical tree, to the great amusement of comte Jean and my sisters-in-law, who, after a long examination, declared that he was justly entitled to the appellation of first cousin; from that period he always addressed me , which I flattered him by returning whenever I was in the humor.

About this period I was the happy instrument in saving from death a young girl whose judges (as will be seen) were about to sentence her to be hanged without fully understanding whether she were innocent or guilty. This unfortunate creature was a young and pretty country girl, whose worthy pastor, the cure de Liancourt, had availed himself of the influence he possessed, and of the advantages of his authority over the poor creature's mind, to seduce her from the paths of virtue. Unfortunately, just at the time when she expected to produce a living witness of their amour, and when she trusted to the cares of the cure to procure for her those comforts her unfortunate situation required, the author of her shame was suddenly carried off by a violent death, and the wretched girl, either thro' ignorance or the shame of having listened to the illicit passion of a priest, neglected to make any of those formal declarations required by the law, and gave birth to a dead infant. The justice of the village, informed of her fault, caused her to be arrested, and recorded against her sentence of death, a decision which was afterwards approved by parliament.

The poor girl was in this extremity when, happily for her, M. de Mandeville, a worthy man from either Normandy or Picardy, who had served in the black musketeers, resolved upon attempting the revocation of the severe sentence which had been passed upon her, by addressing the king thro' my mediation; he accordingly followed me to Marly, where I then was, and lost no time in forwarding to me the following billet:—

"MADAME,— Beauty has ever been found the inseparable companion of goodness; to yours I would appeal to obtain the favor of an immediate audience. My reasons for requesting it are not to solicit either place or pension, but to save the life of an erring creature whose crime has been that of ignorance. I await your reply with the most lively impatience, and have the honor to remain, etc., etc."

This note puzzled me excessively, however I gave orders for the immediate introduction of M. de Mandeville, whose appearance was even more prepossessing than his note; he looked and spoke like an honorable man endowed with that sensibility so precious and so rare; he put into my hands the petition, whilst he explained to me the particulars relative to it, and I instantly wrote to the chancellor the following note, of which a thousand copies were taken in the course of the day. Altho' it has been many times in print, I shall offer no apologies for again submitting it to your perusal.

"MONSIEUR LE CHANCELLOR,—I do not profess to understand your laws, but they seem to me as unjust as barbarous. They are contrary to both reason and humanity, if they put to death an unfortunate female for giving birth to a still-born child without having previously disclosed her situation to any one; and yet, according to the memorial annexed to this, the petitioner is so circumstanced. Here is an unhappy girl about to pay with the forfeit of her life for her ignorance of such a law, or because the modesty and even shame attendant upon her disgraced condition prevented her conforming to it. I appeal to your sense of justice; the wretched girl, concerning whom I write, is a fit object for the exercise of your lenity, and I venture to assure myself that you will at least effect the commutation of her punishment. Your own kind feelings will dictate all I would ask further for her.

"I am, etc., etc."

I felt very certain that, from the manner in which I had expressed myself, the consent of M. de Maupeou was quite certain; I therefore said to my visitor, the handsome musketeer,

"And now, sir, the noble work of charity, in which you have associated me must be completed: go yourself and see the chancellor, tell him you come from me, and do not quit him till you obtain the reply I have solicited."

M. de Mandeville loaded me with thanks and praises which I did not really merit, because in the present instance I acted as much from the wish to gratify my own feelings as his. My name and my letter were talismans before which all doors flew open, and he reached, without difficulty, the presence of the chief administrator of justice, who, having read the memorial and the note I had affixed to it, said, "That is sufficient, sir; have the goodness to assure madame la comtesse du Barry, my cousin, that the reprieve she desires is already granted; and as my fair relation appears to fear trusting implicitly to my personal friendship and humanity, I will set her mind at rest by putting you in possession of the legal forms requisite for the prisoner."

He immediately issued the necessary orders for suspending the execution of the sentence, which M. de Mandeville lost no time in communicating to the poor girl, who, a very few days afterwards, received a full pardon, and was thus, in a manner, snatched from an unmerited and ignominious death. The musketeer requested permission to present my to my notice. She really was a very pretty girl, her feelings overpowered her, and she fainted in her attempt to throw herself at my feet; I soon revived her by the aid of those restoratives which my staring people stupidly did not try to offer, and then to send her away perfectly happy and cheerful, I slipped into the pocket of her apron a of fifty louis which the king had given me for her use. And here I must remark, that this prince, avaricious as he naturally was, was yet always ready to perform a good action, and, indeed, in this respect, he possessed many excellent qualities to which no one has ever yet done justice. When I next saw the chancellor—"Do you know, my fair cousin," said he, "that if I wished to set you and the parliament quarreling together I need only just whisper in what manner you treat our laws?"

"Your laws," exclaimed I, "are barbarous edicts, made rather for tigers than for men. Your punishments are atrocious, nor do I see their application to correct a single malefactor; particularly in the case of this young girl it is abominable, and if the king would listen to me such savage edicts should not long remain unrepealed."

"That may do very well," replied M. de Maupeou, "some time hence, but not just now; ere our penal code can be revised we must have magistrates more supple than those who now dispute our slightest innovation; and if, by the grace of God, we can manage to make a clear house of them, why we may confidently anticipate the noblest results."

By these and similar insinuations the chancellor bespoke that aid and assistance which I afterwards so largely rendered him when he commenced the ruin of parliaments.

Upon another occasion my credit and influence were employed with equal success. The objects of my present exertions were the comte and comtesse de Louerne. Both husband and wife were deeply loaded with debts, a thing common enough with the nobility of the time; these debts they never paid, another thing by no means unusual; their creditors, whose flinty hearts were but little moved by the considerations of their rank and high blood, sent officers to enforce payment, when the Louernes opposed them with positive force and violence, and the laws, thus outraged, condemned them to suffer death. In vain did persons of the highest rank in the kingdom intercede in their behalf, imploring of the chancellor to interpose with the king; altho' deaf to every other entreaty he instantly granted a reprieve at my solicitation, declaring I was the only person who could have effected so much in behalf of the distressed culprits, as well as being the only source thro' which the king's mercy could be obtained.

Immediately upon this notification, I was waited upon by the comtesse de Moyau, their daughter, and the baronne d'Heldorf, their daughter-in-law; both these ladies came to me in the deepest sorrow, and I mingled my sighs and tears with those they so plentifully shed; but this was rendering poor service, and if I desired to aid their cause it was requisite I should speak to the king, who was little disposed to show any indulgence in such cases, and was never known to pass over any attempts on the part of the nobility to resist the laws; he looked with horror on every prospect of the return of those times which he hoped and believed were passed and gone never to return. I well knew his sentiments on the subject, and yet, trusting to my great influence over his mind, I did not despair of success; besides Chon, my sister-in-law, was constantly reminding me that people of a certain rank should support one another, and that now was the time or never. I therefore resolved upon befriending the daughters of comte de Louerne to the utmost of my power, and for that purpose I placed them both in a corner of the drawing-room so as to catch the king's eye as he entered; he observed them, and inquired who those two ladies were. "Sire," replied I, "they are the heart-broken daughters of the comte and comtesse de Louerne, who implore clemency of your majesty to save the lives of the authors of their being."

"Ah!" returned he, "madame, you know I can do nothing against the law which they have offended."

At these cruel words the two young ladies threw themselves at his feet, exclaiming, "Pardon, pardon, sire; in the name of heaven and your illustrious ancestors."

"Rise, ladies," said the king; "I would willingly serve you, but I have not the power."

"No, sire," cried I, "you must not, you cannot refuse our united prayers; and I here vow to remain kneeling at your feet till your lips shall pronounce the word which shall restore life and happiness to so many afflicted hearts."

"Madame," said the king, altho' in a tone less firm, "you force me to do what my principles condemn; but since it must be so, I yield; and only rejoice that the first personal favor you request of me is to perform an act of beneficence. Ladies," added he, turning towards the comtesse de Moyau and her sister-in-law, "you owe the lives of your parents to the generous mediation of the comtesse du Barry."

The joy of the Louernes was only equalled by the base calumny of my enemies, who accused me of having prepared this scene, which was got up by the king and myself to produce effect and excite popularity. Could such disgusting falsehoods have entered the minds of any but the most depraved? Yet those who continually watched and misrepresented my least action appeared anxious to deprive me of even the taste for, as well as the power of, doing good. This took place at Choisy, which we very shortly after quitted for Compiegne, where I passed my time very agreeably. The king would not suffer either the duchesse de Grammont or the comtesses d'Egmont and de Brienne to accompany us upon this excursion. It has likewise been asserted, that neither the duchesse de Grammont nor the princesse de Beauvau was present during the king's first visit to Chantilly: that is not correct; it was at the second that they were forbidden by Louis to join the party. Those who fabricated such accounts, in all probability derived their information from either the stable or the kitchen, which was all they knew of the court of Louis XV.

During my abode at Compiegne I dined several times at the house of my brother-in-law, Cleon du Barry, then a captain in the regiment de Beauce, who was, with a detachment, quartered in the neighborhood of the castle; and he, with the rest of his brother officers, vied in endeavors to please and amuse me. They gave fetes in my honor, were perpetually devising fresh schemes to render the place agreeable to me; and in that they perfectly succeeded, for I quitted Compiegne with no other regret than that my stay there was at an end.

The king appeared each day more and more solicitous to render me happy, and even anticipated any wishes I might form. Amongst other marks of his favor, he bestowed upon me the splendid pavilion de Lucienne, sold by the duc de Penthievre after the death of his son, the prince de Lamballe. You know this charming spot, which both nature and art have so liberally contributed to adorn: I have converted it into the most perfect and delightful habitation in which a mortal could desire to end her days. Nevertheless, this hope of passing my life tranquilly and happily within its sheltering bosom will prove but fallacious, if I may credit a prediction which has been verified already in part. You doubtlessly remember the young man who so obstinately pursued me to announce the high destiny to which I should attain, ere I had for one moment contemplated such an elevation. Well! You will scarcely credit me when I declare, that all recollection of him had entirely escaped me; but, in truth, the constant vortex of a court life leaves no time for the recollection of the past, and fills our minds with no other ideas but to provide for the present, and occasionally to glance at the future.

However, I thought no more of my young prophet, when one Sunday, after my return to Versailles from Compiegne, I attended mass at the castle; all at once I caught a glimpse of my mysterious acquaintance, leaning his back against the wall behind the altar. He was examining my countenance with a deep and fixed attention. You may picture to yourself my astonishment and surprise at recognising in this place the person who had so long ago foretold my brilliant destiny. The color rushed to my cheeks, and he could distinctly observe how much I was agitated by his presence, and his beautiful countenance was lit up with a pleasant smile; after which he gracefully waved his hand round his head as tho' he would say, "Are you not queen of France?" This gesture excited my astonishment still further; however, I returned his mute inquiry by a slight inclination of the head, intended to say, "You are right." In a moment a sort of cloud seemed to cover my eyes. So soon as I could recover from the sudden dimness which obscured my vision, I endeavored to bend my looks in an opposite direction; for so greatly was I the point of general observation, that I feared to awaken suspicion by an indiscreet attention to one particular person or place: and when after some little time had elapsed, and I ventured to turn my eyes again to the spot where the young man had been standing, he had disappeared.

I was unable to recover my astonishment at the whole affair, and the suddenness of his departure inspired me with a lively desire to know more of him, whether he were man or demon. I mentioned it to Chon the same day, who, having listened to me with extreme attention, "Upon my word," said she, "this is a most marvellous event in your history. Why do you not mention the fact to M. de Sartines? "

"Because it appears to me folly to disturb or annoy a person who has given me no offence; and were I to put him into the hands of the police, I might possibly find reason to repent having acted so. On the other hand, I would give any sum of money for one more interview with this wonderful person."

There the conversation ended; but my sister-in-law, by an unpardonable curiosity she ought not to have indulged in, wrote, unknown to me, to the lieutenant of the police, entreating of him to use the most active measures to trace out the object of my curiosity. M. de Sartines delighted at having an opportunity of proving to me and mine his skill and zeal, turned all his bloodhounds loose upon the track of this unfortunate being. During these proceedings I received a letter, sealed with five black seals, bearing the impress of a death's head. I thought at first that it was to notify the decease of some friend, and I looked upon the style as gloomy as it was strange; but, upon opening it, I found it to contain the following words:—

"MADAME LA COMTESSE,—I am perfectly aware that the strict pursuit made after me in your name is without your knowledge or sanction: those sent in search of me have spared no pains nor trouble to ascertain my name and abode. My abode! Let all as they value themselves avoid meeting me there; for, when they enter it, it will be never to quit it more. Who am I? That can only be known when this life has been exchanged for another. I charge you, madame, to command the lieutenant, M. de Sartines., to cease his researches after me; they would be fruitless, and might only compromise your safety. Remember, I predicted your good fortune; was I not correct in it? I have also foretold reverses: I am equally correct in them also. You will see me twice more; and should I unfortunately cross your path a third time, prepare to bid adieu to the light of heaven and the pleasures of this world."

It is impossible to convey an idea of the excessive terror with which I was filled upon the perusal of this billet. I summoned my sister-in-law, and complained of the harshness of conduct thus adopted against my pleasure. Chon was equally alarmed, and confessed to me what she had done in asking the aid of M. de Sartines; at the same time that she was the first to declare that it was requisite to put an end to all further search, which, in one shape or other, might bring on the most fatal consequences. I therefore wrote myself to M. de Sartines, thanking him for his exertions; but saying, that my sister-in-law and myself had learned from the lips of the mysterious stranger all we were desirous of knowing, and that any future researches being unpleasant to him would be equally disagreeable to me. M. de Sartines obeyed my request; and from that period till the death of the king I heard no more of this singular personage.



CHAPTER XXI

Extraordinary anecdote of Louis XIV and madame de Maintenon— The comtesse du Barry at Chantilly—Opinion of king and comte de la Marche respecting the "Iron Mask"—Madame du Barry visits madame de Lagarde

My acquaintance with the singular being I was speaking of in the last chapter did not end here, as you will find in the sequel. I will now give you an account of an equally strange affair, in nearly the same words as Louis XV himself related it to me. Altho' strongly recommended by my sister-in-law and M. de Sartines to conceal the whole story of my mysterious friend from the king, yet, unaccustomed to the prudential observation of court reserve, I, one fine evening, in order to fill up a long blank in the conversation, related the story from beginning to end. His majesty listened with attention until I had concluded.

"This is indeed," said he, "a most singular history; and I think you have acted very wisely in putting an end to all such interference on the part of the police; for in such cases you frequently run great risks to procure a trifling gratification. We have seen something of the same sort in our family."

This discourse excited my curiosity; and I entreated of him to explain himself more fully. "I ought not to do so," replied he; "such transactions should be kept for ever concealed; but as more than half a century has elapsed since the event I allude to took place, I think I may venture to break the silence I have religiously observed until now. You are the only person I have ever mentioned it to, and I must bind you to the strictest secrecy."

This I faithfully promised; and so long as Louis XV lived I kept my word.

"At the conclusion of the last century, during the month of September," resumed the king, "it happened that Louis XIV, and madame de Maintenon formed the wish of consulting together some learned astrologer, in order to ascertain whether the coming age would be productive of good or ill to them. As neither of them knew to whom to apply, in order to attain their object, madame de Maintenon was compelled to confide her wishes to her friend, madame de Montchevreuil, who readily engaged to find for her the person she required; for, spite of the severity with which the law visited such practices, there was no scarcity of dealers in augury, who promised good or bad fortune accordingly as they were paid for it.

"Whilst this lady was making diligent search after one perfectly competent to satisfy madame de Maintenon, this latter, in conjunction with the king, despite the superiority of their minds, was greatly disturbed at the probable consequences of the step they meditated. Their desire to penetrate into futurity appeared to them as ridiculous as it was criminal, but their weaker feelings triumphed; and the result of their deliberations was that far from relinquishing their intention of searching the book of fate, they should lose neither pains nor trouble to attain their object; and to encourage each other, they reckoned upon their fingers the names of every person of their acquaintance, or even belonging to the court, who had derived profit and advantage from the predictions of fortune-tellers.

"The minds of all at this period were still imbued with those superstitious feelings, of which many of the most illustrious persons had given ample proof even in the preceding reign. We have become either more wicked or more sceptical, whichever you please to term it; but this is certain, that many of the things predicted were accomplished with an exact punctuality, which might serve to overthrow the finest arguments of the greatest philosophers, and which has indeed destroyed many ingenious theories. Doubtless the hidden laws of nature have reference to other beings than ourselves; and, beyond dispute, may be said to govern the creatures of an unknown world as well as exercising control over poor mortals like us." After this short digression, of which I give you the precise wording, the king continued as follows:

"On the following day madame de Montchevreuil paid a visit to madame de Maintenon, in which she declared, that upon mature reflection, she could not proceed with the commission she had undertaken: that it was tempting Providence, and had better be abandoned. This remonstrance had no effect upon madame de Maintenon, who shielded herself from any necessity of retracting, by repeating to herself, that she had pledged herself to join Louis XIV in the undertaking, and it would never do for her to forfeit her character for firmness and good sense by now appearing trifling and capricious. However, she feigned a seeming compliance with the advice of madame de Montchevreuil, whilst, in reality, her mind was resolved upon executing her project.

"There was in her household a female who was not immediately one of her establishment, altho' generally ranking as such; one of those active, stirring persons, who thrust themselves into a noble family under the equivocal title of half servant, half lady. This one had charge of all the necessary purchases of linen, Engaged the servants, kept watch over their conduct, procured for the marchioness whatever particulars she might require upon any subject; and took upon herself, in a word, any piece of service by which she could more firmly plant herself in the family of her employers. She received no fixed wages, but their absence was abundantly compensated in the numerous rich presents that were continually made her. Her sleeping apartment was always immediately adjoining that of madame de Maintenon in the castle. A person of this description (as may be readily supposed) knew the world too well to find any difficulty in procuring a mere fortune-teller; and as her discretion might be confidently relied on, it was resolved by her mistress to intrust her with the design.

"Two days after, she had removed all difficulties by discovering an Italian priest, famed as the most skilful necromancer of his day, one who undertook to reveal the decrees of fate to all those who should consult him, as clearly and readily as tho' its leaves lay open, as a book before his eyes. But this gifted person lived in the utmost dread of attracting the notice of parliament, and exercised his art only under the strictest assurances of secrecy, in the most retired and secluded manner, with every precaution to prevent the possibility of a surprise.

"These conditions were too gratifying to madame de Maintenon to cause much delay in subscribing to them; and it was finally arranged, that the prophet and his new applicants should meet at a house in Sevres belonging to the royal family, then in the occupation of madame Cerfol (the lady of whom mention has been already made). The marchioness was to repair thither at one o'clock in the morning with a single friend. To have taken such a measure in open daylight would have been to proclaim their secret to all Paris. One person besides madame de Cerfol was necessarily admitted into their confidence, and that was the duc de Noailles, who was charged, by the king's express orders, to take every possible precaution to ensure their safety, as far as it could be done without attracting public attention to so extraordinary an affair.

"At the hour appointed madame de Maintenon and the duc de Noailles ascended a carriage which awaited them at one of the park gates, and soon conveyed them to Sevres, whither the Italian priest had gone the preceding night. This wretched man had celebrated alone the sacrifice of the mass, and had consecrated several wafers.

"Everything confirmed the opinion, that the conjuror, up to the present moment, merely supposed himself sent for to satisfy the curiosity of some country nobleman and his lady, who were both anxious and eager to read their future fortune thro' his assistance. I can only suppose, if he had been in ignorance of the real rank of those who addressed him, the sight of the king must have quickly undeceived him, as the conclusion of the story proves he well knew to whom he spoke when he delivered his prediction. However this may have been, he was no sooner alone with the marchioness, than he commenced the necessary preparations for the performance of his sorceries and enchantments; he burned perfumes, offered prayers, and with loud invocations adjured the powers of hell to answer him; and in the midst of a wild and agitating sound which pervaded the whole building, during the heavy swell of noises too dreadful to have arisen from mortal sources, and whilst a thousand visions were flitting to and fro, he drew the horoscope of the king and madame de Maintenon. He promised Louis XIV that he should succeed in all his undertakings; and that, on the very day on which he spoke the words (the 2nd of October) one of his children had been called to the inheritance of an immense fortune. Then giving him a small packet, wrapped in new parchment, 'The day in which you form the fatal resolution of acquainting yourself with the contents of this packet,' said he, 'will be the last of your prosperity; but if you desire to carry your good fortune to the highest pitch, be careful upon every great festival, that is to say, Easter, Whit-Sunday, the Assumption, and Christmas, to plunge a pin in this talisman, so that the point shall pass directly thro' it; observe to do this, and you will live perfectly happy.'

"The king accepted this fatal present, and swore upon the Gospel never to open the packet; he richly rewarded the priest, who from that period lived in a retreat so well concealed as to evade the most diligent researches of those who sought to discover it.

"Some time after news was received, that on the very 2nd of October, 1700, named by the priest, Charles II, king of Spain, had appointed in his will Philip of France, son of the dauphin, his successor and heir, an inheritance truly immense, as the astrologer had foretold. You may well think how highly this realization of the prediction inspired the king with confidence as to the fulfilment of the remainder: and, on his part, he never failed upon any saint's day or other solemn festival to stick the mysterious pin in the talisman upon which so much depended.

"Nevertheless, spite of all these observances, his undertakings did not invariably succeed, which astonished him greatly; when one day the great Bossuet, happening to be at madame de Maintenon's, the conversation turned upon magic and sorcery, necromancy and their horrible profanations; and he expressed himself with so much force and energy, that the king and madame de Maintenon looked at each other without knowing what to say, and began, for the first time, to feel compunction for what they had done, and to regret their imprudence. They talked of it much together, and at length resolved to reveal their crime to their confessors. The punishment imposed on the king by his spiritual adviser was, that he should evince his contempt for the talismanic properties of the parchment packet, by immediately opening it.

"Louis XIV did not by any means admire this method of expiating his fault; and a sort of involuntary dread took possession of him, as, in obedience to the command of his confessor, he went to procure the magic parcel, which he tore open in the presence of madame de Maintenon and father la Chaise. The packet contained nothing but a consecrated wafer, pierced thro' with as many pins as there had been saints' days since the king had received it. At the sight of this horrible sacrilege my grandfather was filled with deep remorse and consternation, from which it was a long time ere he recovered; and it was not until he had undergone many severe penances, fastings, and caused numberless masses to be said, that he felt himself at all relieved from the weight of his crime.

"But all this was only the commencement of the divine vengeance: and those in the secret of this unfortunate affair remarked, that this great monarch lost from that time as many male descendants in a direct line as he had stuck pins into the holy wafer."

Louis XV here terminated his singular history, which struck my mind with a sort of religious terror. I strove by every possible effort to dissimulate, concealing from the king the emotions to which his narration had given rise. I contented myself with observing, "that after hearing his marvelous recital, I should only be more confirmed in my determination to leave my young prophet to the tranquillity he desired."

"It will be far best so," added Louis; "I know so many fatal results which have followed any indiscreet curiosity, that I am persuaded you had much better leave such mysterious affairs to work their own solution."

I promised to follow his advice, and we then conversed upon other subjects. Since then this anecdote has recurred to my memory; and without wishing to impeach the sincerity of Louis XV, I have asked myself, whether, by the opportune relation of this adventure, probably invented by himself, he did not seek to destroy the confidence I appeared to entertain in the predictions of my prophet. I say invented, because the king had a peculiar readiness and facility in composing these sort of wonderful tales, carefully noting down every circumstance which fell under his knowledge deviating from the ordinary course of things. He had a large collection of these legends, which he delighted in narrating; and this he did with an ease and grace of manner I have never seen equalled.

About this period the prince de Conde, whose gallantry never failed, entreated the king to pay a second visit to Chantilly: and it was upon this occasion that Louis erased from the list of court ladies all those whose presence would be disagreeable to me during our stay at Chantilly. One scene of pleasure followed another, and one fete succeeded another. I accompanied his majesty without ever quitting him; and if hitherto there had existed any doubts as to the sincerity of the king's attachment, the most sceptical person would now have been convinced of the fact. Louis XV was never from my side, and appeared solely occupied in gratifying my slightest wish; the princes of the court carefully followed his example; and such a life as I then led was abundant compensation for all the pains and anxieties I had endured from the malice and jealousy of certain females, as well as the sarcastic bitterness of men, who feared lest my influence should destroy theirs.

I may, with truth, affirm that I received the honors and attention of a queen; verses, plays, all written to convey some praise or compliment to me; and the king testified the lively gratification it afforded him to see me thus an object of general solicitude, as well as of the most flattering distinction. His conduct towards the prince de Conde became more gracious than it had ever been observed to be to the princes of the blood; for there existed a singular coolness in the royal family towards all the princes of this branch. The king looked upon it as vastly inferior to his own, because it had been separated from the throne before the accession of Henry IV to the crown; he even asserted, that there was much to be said upon this subject, and prudence compels me to pass over the many histories and circumstances related by him to me of this brilliant portion of his noble race.

Neither the prince de Conde, whom I knew well, nor the prince de la Marche, entertained much regard for their relations; and they had always some spiteful story in store respecting the posterity of Louis XIII. There is one historical fact which has never been cleared up.

One day I was conversing with the comte de la Marche upon the disputes concerning the parliaments, and expressing my fear, that, if driven to desperate measures, the people would rise in open rebellion in favor of the magistracy. "They would be still more clamororous," replied he, "if they knew all I could tell them."

"And what do you know more than myself?'" asked I; "your highness alarms me by speaking thus."

"Amongst events now passed and gone is one that would materially affect the public peace, if known."

"You must explain yourself, my lord," said I. He refused; but I persisted in pressing the matter with so much earnestness, that at last he said, in a low voice,

"Did you ever hear of the man who wore the iron mask?"

"Yes, certainly," replied I, "who was he?"

"A great prince, and a most unfortunate man."

"But who was he really?"

"In the eyes of the law the crown of France should have been his; but in the conscientious view of things he certainly had no claim."

The comte de la Marche stopped here; and, as I was not very deeply read in history, I did not exactly comprehend the distinction he had just made. I had frequently heard talk of the "Iron Mask," whom people reported to be either allied to, or sprung from, the royal family; but all these particulars were confused in my memory. However, I was much struck with the conversation I had had with the comte de la Marche; and when next the conversation fell on this mysterious personage, I asked the duc de Richelieu what he thought of him.

"Upon my honor," replied he, "I never could find out who he really was; not that I did not try," added he, assuming an air of modest vanity, which well became his green old age. "I had a mistress of tolerably high birth, mademoiselle d'Orleans, as indeed I had the honor of having the princesses, her august sisters. However, the former, known under the name of mademoiselle de Charollais, was dying to do some act of kindness that should be agreeable to me. Well, I requested she would obtain from the regent, her father, the solution of the secret relative to the 'Iron Mask.' She used every possible device, but nothing could she obtain from her father, who protested that the mystery should never escape his lips; and he kept his word, he never did divulge it. I even imagine that the king himself is ignorant of it, unless indeed the cardinal de Fleury informed him of it." The marechal told me afterwards that he thought the opinion adopted by Voltaire the most probable, viz: that this unknown person was the son of the queen Anne of Austria, mother of Louis XIV. These last words helped, in a measure, to resolve the enigma which comte de la Marche had left me to unravel; and, with a view to satisfy myself more positively on the subject, I availed myself of the first time I was alone with the king, to lead the conversation to this story.

At the mention of the "Iron Mask," Louis XV started. "And do you really credit such a fable?" asked he.

"Is it then entirely untrue?" inquired I.

"Certainly not," he replied; "all that has been said on the matter is destitute of even common sense."

"Well," cried I, "what your majesty says only confirms what I heard from the marechal de Richelieu."

"And what has he been telling you?"

"Very little, sire; he told me only, that the secret of who the 'Iron Mask' really was had not been communicated to you."

'The marechal is a simpleton if he tells you so. I know the whole affair, and was well acquainted with the unhappy business."

"Ah!" exclaimed I, clapping my hands in triumph, "just now you affected perfect ignorance; you knew nothing at all about it, and now—"

"You are a very dangerous woman," cried the king, interrupting me by loud fits of laughter, "and you are cunning enough even to surprise the secrets of the state."

"'Tis you, rather, who could not resist the inclination to let me see that you knew what the marechal had declared you ignorant of. Which of us two is the more to blame, I wonder?"

"Myself, I think," answered the king; "for after all, you did but act with the candor and curiosity of your sex: it was for me to have employed more of the prudence of a king in my replies to your interrogatories."

"Well, but," said I, "since you really do know all about this man with the iron mask, you will tell it to me, will you not?"

"I should be very careful how I gratified your curiosity," said he; "this is a point of history which must never be cleared up; state reasons require that it should for ever remain a matter of doubt."

"And must have you tell me," returned I; "do pray tell, and I will love you with all my heart."

"It cannot be."

"And why not? This unfortunate person has been long dead without leaving any posterity."

"Are you quite sure of that?" inquired the king, in a serious tone.

"But what signifies," said I, "whether he be dead or alive? I entreat of you to bestow upon me this proof of your confidence. Who of all those who have spoken of him have told the truth?"

"Nobody; but Voltaire has approached it more nearly than any one else."



After this partial confession the king implored of me to change the conversation, which I could easily perceive was extremely disagreeable to him. Nevertheless, it seemed to me quite clear, that this celebrated person belonged to the royal family, but by what title I could not devise. It was in vain that I afterwards revived the subject; not even during the most tender confidences could I obtain the information I desired. Possibly had I lived with him some years more I might have succeeded in drawing from him all he knew respecting the object of my curiosity. Old men, like children, can conceal nothing from those they love, and who have obtained over them an influence they willingly submit to.

Before I proceed to more important events, I would fain speak of persons with whom I lived before my elevation. My godfather, M. Billard du Monceau, was still living, as well as madame Lagarde, with whom I had resided as companion. My interview with the former is well known; and the authors of "Anecdotes of My Life," published thirteen years since, have strictly adhered to the truth, with the exception of some vulgarisms they have put into the mouth of that excellent man which he never uttered.

As to madame Lagarde, she was strangely surprised to see me arrive at her house; and the evident embarrassment my presence occasioned her was a sufficient revenge on my part for the many unkind things she had said and done respecting me. I would not prolong her uncomfortable situation, but studied to conduct myself with the same unaffected simplicity of former days. I talked over the past, inquired after her family, and offered my best services and protection without malice for what was gone by, and with perfect sincerity for the future. But spite of all my endeavors to spare her feelings, it was evident that rage and humiliation at the advantage my altered fortunes gave me over her, struggled within her, and the conflict of her mind was but too plainly depicted in her countenance. However, that was the least of my troubles; I soon restored her to comparative calmness; and before I quitted her, made her promise she would come and see me.

She would gladly have evaded this request; but her son, the master of requests, who sufficiently misjudged me to fear my resentment, and who possessed great influence over her, induced her to present herself at my house. She accordingly came to call upon me, with a mind bursting with spite and jealousy; yet she choked down her angry passions, and so far humbled herself, as to entreat my pardon for her own sake and that of her family, for all her unkindness towards me. I would not allow her to finish; "Madame," said I, "I only allow agreeable recollections to find a place in my memory; had I entertained the slightest resentment against either you or yours, you may be quite certain I should not have again entered your dwelling; and I again repeat the offer I made the other day, of gladly seizing the first opportunity of being useful to you."

Each of these words expressive of the kindest feelings towards her was like the stab of a poniard. She, however, extolled them with the most exaggerated praise, imploring me to believe how deeply she regretted her behavior, and talked so long and so much about it, that when she quitted me, it was with the most certain impression on my mind, that in her I possessed a most violent and implacable enemy, and in this conclusion I was quite correct. M. Dudelay, her son, had the effrontery to request to be presented to me, and charged the excellent M. de Laborde to make known his wishes to me. I begged he would inform M. Dudelay, that I admitted into the circle of my acquaintance only such as were known to the king; and that if he thought proper to apply to his majesty, I should obey his royal will on the subject, whatever it might be. He justly considered this repulse as a biting raillery, for which he never forgave me. I entertained no ill will against him for his past perfidy, but I considered it strange that he should presume to approach me with familiarity. I should not have adopted the same line of conduct towards the farmer-general, his brother, who, less assuming, contented himself with assuring me of his devotion, and the sincere regret with which he contemplated the past, without ever seeking to introduce himself into my presence.



CHAPTER XXII

The chevalier de la Morliere—Portrait of the duc de Choiseul— The duc de Choiseul and the comtesse du Barry—No reconciliation effected—Madame du Barry and the duc d'Aiguillon—Madame du Barry and Louis XV

About this period I received a piece of attention, any thing but gratifying if considered in a strictly honourable sense. The contemptible chevalier de la Morliere, who detested me, and subsequently pursued me with rage, presumed to dedicate to me some wretched collection of his compositions, and I had the weakness to accept the dedication; I had even the still greater folly to receive its author at my house; this piece of condescension injured me greatly. Until that period I had not, like madame de Pompadour, shown myself the protectress and patroness of men of letters; and even my warmest friends could not deny, that in stepping forwards as the encourager of literature, I had made a very unfortunate choice in selecting the chevalier de la Morliere as the first object of my patronage. But how could I have done otherwise? The prince de Soubise, who found this man serviceable upon many occasions, would have sacrificed any thing to promote his advancement; and I have been assured, that had the marechal taken half the pains on the day previous to the battle of Rasbach, we should not have left it so disgracefully.

The king well knew the unfortunate chevalier for a man as destitute of modesty as merit; when therefore he saw his book upon the mantel-piece of my drawing-room, he said,

'So! you are the inspiring muse of the chevalier de la Morliere; I only warn you, when the day comes for him to be hanged, not to ask me to pardon him."

"Be assured," replied I, "that I will never deprive the Place de Greve of one so formed to do honour to it."

In fact, the chevalier was within an ace of reaching it before his friends anticipated; for, very shortly after this conversation, he was guilty of the most detestable piece of knavery I ever heard of. He learned that an unfortunate young man from the country, into whose confidence he had wormed himself, was to receive 15,000 livres on his father's account; he invited him to supper, and, by the aid of two villains like himself, stripped him of his last sous. Not satisfied with this, he wrote the father such an exaggerated account of his son's loss and general bad habits, that the enraged and irritated parent procured an order to confine his son at Saint Lazare! Did you ever hear of a more infamous and accomplished rogue than my honourable ? However, I shall give him up to his fate, be it good or bad, and proceed with the relation of my affair with duc de Choiseul.

I had named to madame de l'Hopital the hour at which I could receive the duke. She had requested, in pursuance of her directions, no doubt, that the conversation between us should take place either amidst the groves of Versailles or in the labyrinth of Marly;—the self-love of M. de Choiseul inducing him to desire that this interview should be so contrived, as to wear the air of a mere chance rencontre. To this I would not consent; saying, that it did not suit my pleasure to quit the house; and that when a gentleman solicited the favour of speaking to a lady, it became his business to wait upon her, without expecting she should come in search of him; and, spite of all the arguments of madame de l'Hopital, I persisted in my determination: she had no alternative but to submit, and I awaited the coming of M. de Choiseul on the following day.

The duc de Choiseul possessed a greater reputation than his talents were entitled to; and his advancement was more attributable to his good fortune than his merit. He had found warm and powerful assistants in both philosophers and women; he was a confirmed egotist, yet passed for a man who cared little for self. He was quick at matters of business, and he obtained the character of a deep and profound politician. It must, however, be admitted, that he was witty, gallant, and gifted with manners so elegant and fascinating, that they never failed to remove the first unfavourable impression caused by his excessive plainness. The tide of public favour was with him; and, in order to contest it, it required all the influence of a woman, and that woman to be no less than the beloved mistress of the king of France.

He presented himself before me tastefully and magnificently dressed, both look and voice wearing the stamp of high-born pride and haughtiness. Nevertheless, amidst all this pomp, it was evident that he did not entirely feel the ease he assumed, and that a species of remorse rankled at his heart, spite of the courtier-like gallantry with which he had invested himself.

"Madam," said he, bowing twice most profoundly, "the moment has arrived which I have long most ardently desired."

"The fault has not been mine, my lord," said I, "that it has been delayed until now. My door has never been shut against any visit you might have honoured me with."

"Ah, madam! why have I not known this sooner? Some evil planet ruled my thoughts when it occurred to me that I might not be so happy as to meet with a favourable reception."

"There, my lord, you were indeed in error; for though I might not feel a very tender friendship towards you whilst supposing I had many causes for complaint, I could not refuse you those marks of respect your rank and station entitle you to receive."

"Then, madam, I may flatter myself that I should have been kindly received?"

"Yes, sir, you would ever have been welcome, but not those belonging to you, for I will be perfectly candid; always excepting the duchesse de Choiseul, for whom I entertain the greatest veneration and respect."

"She is indeed well worthy the exalted opinion you express of her; and had I followed her advice, I should not have been found amongst the ranks of your enemies."

"You confess the fact then, monsieur le duc?" said I.

"I trust, madam, you will not take advantage of an inadvertent expression to turn it against myself. What I fear is, that without ever having been your enemy, I may have passed for such in your estimation; and such indeed is the cruel position in which I am placed."

"Stay, my lord duke," cried I; "be candid, and acknowledge that you are my enemy as you have ever been; and that it is only because there has been war between us that you are now come to conclude a treaty of peace—"

"Peace or war, madam," replied he, "as you please to will it; all I will admit is, that things have turned out most unfavourably for my wishes. Your arrival at Versailles, your grace, beauty, and wit, excited universal jealousy; and, amidst the general panic caused by your all-excelling merit, was it not necessary I too should keep myself on my guard? For the first time in my life a beautiful woman became an object of alarm to me; you may further believe me, when I protest that, at the outset, I warmly defended you; but how could I wage war against so many—how oppose the general torrent? It bore me down."

"And you fear lest it should carry you beyond your depth, and would fain return to ; is it not so, my lord duke?"

At this ironical speech an expression of heavy displeasure rose to the countenance of M. de Choiseul, and he remained for several minutes like a man who fears to trust himself to reply. Then he added,

"Madam, when I solicited the favour of this conversation, it was with the sincerest desire of adjusting all differences between us, and it would but ill advance that purpose were I now to reply to you with warmth and petulance; condescend, on your part, to lay aside sarcasm and raillery. You have already too many advantages over me, and it would ill accord with your wonted generosity to insult a half-conquered foe."

"You are right, my lord," answered I; "jests and recrimination will effect nothing; let us rather proceed at once to consider what is best for the interest of both."

"Willingly," replied he. 'Now you speak to the purpose; and as I was prepared to hear you—are you inclined for a serious discussion of our business?"

"Pray begin, my lord, I am all attention."

"Well, madam, I deeply regret all that has passed, and deplore that my friends and part of my family should be disagreeable to you; I take upon myself to engage that their hostility shall end, and am willing to afford you the most perfect satisfaction upon this point. Impressed with highest respect for his majesty, and the most lively desire to serve him, I ask for nothing more than to be on good terms with those he loves; and as for the future, my unshrinking loyalty may be relied on."

"I am well assured of it, my lord duke; and likewise you have never taken any part in the calumnies which have been aimed at me. Let us then forgive the and since we are agreed as to the future, let us speak but of the present. I have friends fitted to serve the king, whose ambition leads them to aspire to that honour. What will you do to assist them?"

"Ere I promise that, madam, it is necessary I should be acquainted with them."

"What would it avail to name them to you? You perfectly well comprehend to whom I allude. I am resolutely decided to support them, and to employ for this purpose the friendship with which his majesty deigns to honour me."

The duke coloured deeply at these words.

"Then, madam," said he, " you would fain strip me to enrich others?"

"No, my lord, I ask but a division of your possessions. You cannot have every thing; and it would not be fair that our reconciliation should be profitable to you only." "I did not anticipate, madam, in coming hither, that you would command me to offer up myself as a sacrifice upon an altar raised by you to the interests of your friends."

"Meaning to say, my lord duke, that you will keep every thing to yourself. I cannot compliment you upon your liberality, however I may for your candour."

"Madam, I have never since my entry into the ministry sought to live at the expense of my country, and let me resign office when I may, I shall retire loaded only with debts, whilst you and your friends draw large revenues from the nation."

The conversation became warm and angry, the duke and myself, with crimson cheeks and inflamed countenances, surveyed each other with haughty defiance. At length he added,

"I had hoped that I should have quitted you more kindly disposed towards me."

"And I, my lord, fancied that you were coming with an ardent desire for peace; but no, the spirit of your sister leads you astray, and you would fain punish me for her absence from court."

"Madam, I beseech you to leave my sister in peace; she has gone, that ought to satisfy you. We will not, if you please, speak of her."

"I only wish that she would likewise do me the honour to be silent respecting me. I am not ignorant that she continues to aim her slanders at me from afar as she did when near me. One might suppose that the sole object of her journeyings was but to excite all France against me."

"Madam, you are mistaken. My sister—"

"Continues to play the same part in the country she did in Paris. She detests me because I happen to have youth and beauty on my side. May her hatred last forever."

"Ah, madam, say not so; for with your charms you are indeed too formidable an antagonist; and the more so, as I clearly perceive you are not inclined for peace."

"At least," said I, "the war on my side shall be fair and open, and those belonging to you have not always waged it with me upon those terms."

The duke merely warded off this last assertion by some unmeaning compliment, and we separated greater enemies than ever.

The first person to whom I could communicate what had passed was the duc d'Aiguillon. He listened to my recital without any decided expression of his opinion; but no sooner had I concluded, than he took me by the hand, and pressing it with a friendly grasp,

"How I congratulate you," said he, "upon the good fortune which has extricated you from this affair. Do you know that a reconciliation with the duc de Choiseul would have involved your inevitable disgrace? What evil genius counselled you to act in such a manner?"

"I fancied I was doing right," said I, "in thus proving to the king that I was not an unreasonable woman."

"The Choiseuls," replied he, "would have entangled you in their nets, and, separated from your real friends, would have made you the innocent author of your own destruction. Tell the king just so much, that the duc de Choiseul has been to see you, that you conversed together some time, and that he has offended you more than ever."

"I promise you, my kind friend," said I, "to follow your advice."

When I next saw the king, I apprized him of the visit.

"That does not astonish me," said Louis XV, "the duke is anxious to be on friendly terms with you."

"He has then taken a very contrary road to arrive at my friendship," said I; "if he really desires that we should be on good terms, he must conduct himself very differently"; and there the conversation ended. But several days afterwards, having sent away my , with whom I had reason to be dissatisfied, and the king appearing surprised at seeing a fresh countenance amongst my household, I said to him, "Sir, I have got rid of Choiseul, when will it please you to get rid of yours?" The king, without replying to me, began to laugh; in which, for want of a better termination to my remark, I was constrained to join.



CHAPTER XXIII

Dorine—Mademoiselle Choin and the marechal d'Uxelles—Zamor— M. de Maupeou's wig—Henriette—The duc de Villeroi and Sophie— Letter from the comtesse du Barry to the duc de Villeroi—His reply—The countess writes again—Madame du Barry and Sophie— Louis XV and the comtesse du Barry

Among the number which composed my household were three beings who played conspicuous parts in my family, and who received the kindest caresses in honour of their mistress. These three favoured objects were Dorine, Zamor, and Henriette. Following the order or disorder in which I have written thus far, I will first introduce my dear Dorine to your notice.

Sweet, beautiful Dorine! how amiably affectionate and attached to thy mistress wert thou! The poor animal still exists; for I would have you know that I am speaking of a most faithful little dog; now indeed grown old, asthmatic and snappish; but fifteen years since, distinguished for her lightness, swiftness, and grace, for her pretty little countenance, white teeth, large sparkling eyes, long tufted tail, and above all, for her snow-white coat, spotted here and there with the most beautiful brown.

Dorine was just three months old when madame de Montmorency brought her to me in her muff; her throat was adorned with a rich gold collar, bearing the arms of the du Barrys, and clasped with a large sapphire surrounded with diamonds. The moment she saw me Dorine leaped upon my lap with the most endearing familiarity, and from that period has never quitted me. My train of courtiers hastened to become those of the new favourite likewise; and pastrycooks and confectioners racked their brains to procure tempting morsels for the gentle Dorine. She sipped her coffee daily from a golden saucer, and Zamor (between whom and Dorine a mutual dislike existed) was appointed her cupbearer. The wonderful instinct of the highly gifted animal soon taught her, that although she had free permission to bark at all the rest of the world, there was one person in it to whom it behoved her to show herself in her most gracious and smiling moods; who this person was I leave it to your sagacity to divine. She, however, indemnified herself for this extra complaisance by barking and biting at all who approached; and the handsomest, best turned leg in the court was not secure from the sharp teeth of mademoiselle Dorine. Nevertheless, all vied in praising and fondling her, and I was enchanted with the general admiration she excited, as well as the attention she received. One day that I was exultingly relating to the duc d'Aguillon the cares and praises lavished on my dog, he replied, "The grand dauphin, son of Louis XIV, after the death of his wife, Marie Christine of Bavaria, secretly espoused mademoiselle Choin. The marechal d'Uxelles, who was not ignorant of this marriage, professed himself the most devoted friend of the lady; he visited her regularly morning and evening, and even carried his desire to please her so far, as to send a servant with a dish of grilled hare for the house dog, who had a particular fancy for game dressed in that manner! These attentions and assiduities were faithfully continued for several years, till the grand dauphin died, and then no more morning and evening visits, no more presents to either mistress or dog. Apply the story well," added the duke, as he terminated his recital. Unfortunately the application of the tale presented itself but too soon, and I have experienced the sad truth of the history of mademoiselle Choin. At the death of the king so, did my visitors disappear; and poor Dorine has partaken of the disgrace of the comtesse du Barry.

The second object of my regard was Zamor, a young African boy, full of intelligence and mischief; simple and independent in his nature, yet wild as his country. Zamor fancied himself the equal of all he met, scarcely deigning to acknowledge the king himself as his superior. This son of Africa was presented to me by the duc de Richelieu, clad in the picturesque costume of his native land; his head ornamented with feathers of every colour, a short petticoat of plaited grass around his waist, while the richest bracelets adorned his wrists, and chains of gold, pearls, and rubies, glittered over his neck and hung from his ears. Never would any one have suspected the old marechal, whose parsimony was almost proverbial, of making such a magnificent present.