In honour of the tragedy of Alzire, I christened my little negro Zamor, to whom by degrees I became attached with all the tenderness of a mother. You ask me why? Indeed that is more than I can tell; perhaps at first I looked upon him as a sort of puppet or plaything, but, imperceptibly to myself, I became passionately fond of my little page, nor was the young urchin slow in perceiving the ascendancy he had gained over me, and, in the end, to abuse his influence, and attained, as I have before said, an almost incredible degree of insolence and effrontery. Still I pardoned all his folly, and amused myself from morning to night with watching his nimble fingers perform a thousand tricks of jugglery. Even now that I have lost the gaiety of my happy days, when I recall his irresistibly comic ways, I catch myself laughing, like an old simpleton, at the bare recollection of his monkey feats. I could relate twenty of his mischievous pranks, each more amusing than the other. I will, however, excuse you from hearing nineteen of them, upon condition that you shall listen to the twentieth, which I select as being the shortest.

One day, upon which I had invited some select friends to dinner, a superb pie was brought to table as a present which the ungallant M. de Maupeou had had the politeness to send me in the morning. One of the company proceeded to cut it, when scarcely had he pierced the crust, than its perfidious contents proved to be an immense swarm of cockchafers, which spread humming and buzzing all over the chamber. Zamor, who had never before seen these insects, began to pursue them all over the room, buzzing and humming as loudly as they did. The chase lasted a long time; but at last the poor cockchafers weary of carrying on the war, and mistaking the peruke of M. de Maupeou for an impregnable fortress, flew to take refuge there. What did Zamor do, but run to the chancellor, snatch off his wig, and carry it in triumph to a corner of the room with its colony of cockchafers, leaving us all to admire the bald head of the chief magistrate. I could willingly have enjoyed a hearty laugh at this scene, but, out of respect for M. de Maupeou, I feigned to be much displeased with Zamor, whom I desired one of the attendants to flog for his rudeness. However, the guests and the chancellor uniting in entreaties that I would pardon him, I was obliged to allow my assumed anger to give way to their request, and the culprit received a pardon.

There was but one person in the world whom Zamor really feared; he was however on good terms with all my friends, and did not disdain the society of the king. You have heard that the latter, by way of amusement, bestowed on my little negro the title of governor of the Pavillon de Lucienne, with a revenue arising therefrom of a thousand crowns, and that the chancellor caused the necessary papers to be prepared and delivered to him sealed with the state seal.

But of all the persons who visited me, the one most beloved by Zamor was madame de Mirepoix, who never came without bringing him amusing presents or some sweetmeats. The sight of her threw him into ecstasies of delight; and the moment he caught sight of her, he would clap his hands, leap with joy, dance around her, and kiss her hand, exclaiming, "" " ("Ah! Madame la marechale "). The poor marechale always dreaded meeting the king when she came to visit me and Zamor; for the great delight of his majesty was to make my little negro repeat a name of Israelitish origin, which he did in so ridiculous a manner, that the modesty of my fair friend was most shockingly put to the blush.

One person alone never vouchsafed to bestow the slightest glance of encouragement upon my little imp of Africa, and this was comte Jean, who even went so far as to awe him into silence either by a frown or a gesture of impatience; his most lively tricks could not win a smile from the count, who was either thoughtful or preoccupied with some ambitious scheme of fortune. Zamor soon felt a species of instinctive dread of this overpowering and awe-inspiring genius, whose sudden appearance would chill him in his wildest fits of mirthful mischief, and send him cowering to a corner of the room; where he would remain huddled together, and apparently stupefied and motionless, till the count quitted the apartment.

At the moment of my writing this, Zamor still resides under my roof. During the years he has passed with me he has gained in height, but in none of the intellectual qualities does he seem to have made any progress; age has only stripped him of the charms of infancy without supplying others in their place; nor can I venture to affirm, that his gratitude and devotion to me are such as I have reason to expect they should be;* for I can with truth affirm, that I have never ceased to lavish kindness on him, and to be, in every sense of the word, a good mistress to him.

*This wretch, whom the comtesse du Barry loaded with her favours and benefits, conducted her to the scaffold.- EDITOR (i.e., author)

There was one member of my establishment, however, whom I preferred to either Dorine or Zamor and this was Henriette, who was sincerely attached to me, and who, for that very reason, was generally disliked throughout the castle. I bad procured a good husband for her, on whom I bestowed a post which, by keeping both himself and his wife in the close vicinity of the castle, prevented my kind friend from quitting me. However, my poor Henriette was not fated to enjoy a long connubial felicity, for her husband, being seized with a violent fever, in a fit of delirium threw himself from a window into the court below, and was taken up dead. Slander availed herself even of this fatal catastrophe to whisper abroad, that the death of the unhappy man arose from his deep sense of his wife's misconduct and infidelity. This I can positively assert was not the case, for Henriette was warmly and truly attached to him, and conducted herself as a wife with the most undeviating propriety. The fact was, that Henriette had drawn upon herself a general hatred and ill will, because she steadily refused all gossiping invitations, where my character would have been pulled to pieces, and the affairs of my household discussed and commented upon: there, indeed, she had sinned beyond all hope of pardon.

She it was who pointed out to me the perfidious conduct of the duc de Villeroi. This gentleman, from the very beginning of my rise in the royal favour, had demonstrated the most lively friendship for me, of which he sought to persuade me by the strongest protestations, which, weak and credulous as I was, I implicitly believed, until one day that Henriette, availing herself of my being quite alone, let me into the secrets of my establishment and furnished me with a key to the assiduities of M. de Villeroi.

Amongst the females in my service was one named Sophie, young, beautiful both in face and form, of a sweet disposition, and every way calculated to inspire the tender passion. M. de Villeroi felt the full force of her charms, and became the whining, sighing lover—her very shadow. Up to this period I had had no cause of complaint against M. de Villeroi; and certainly I should not have interfered with his plebeian flame had he not thought proper, when questioned by my enemies as to his continual presence at the castle, and great assiduities there, to protest that his visits thither were not in honour of my charms, but for those of my waiting-maid. However, my vanity had rendered me his constant dupe.

I felt perfectly astonished as I listened to Henriette's recital; and when she had ceased, I conjured her to tell me candidly, whether she had not invented the whole tale either out of spite to Sophie or with a design to make me break off further friendship with the duke. This she most solemnly denied, and recommended me to make inquiries amongst my friends, who would be compelled to bear testimony to the truth of all she had asserted. I determined to do so; and the first person whom I was enabled to interrogate respecting the affair was the bishop de Senlis. This prelate came frequently to see me, and I found his society each day more pleasing. He served me as a kind of gazette of all that passed with the princesses, in whose opinion I had still the misfortune not to be in the very highest estimation. When occasion required it, M. de Roquelaure would venture to take my part, and that without making a single enemy; for who could be offended with one so affable, so good, so full of kindness towards all? In fact, the worthy bishop was so fortunate as to obtain the love of every person who knew him; and, in the most select society of opposing parties, each would reserve a place for good M. de Roquelaure.

When I questioned him as to his knowledge of the affair, his embarrassment was evident.

"What a world is this! "cried he. "Why, let me ask, do you listen to those who repeat such mortifying tales to you?"

"Because, my lord, my friends will not see me made the sport of a heartless and perfidious friend; and, if you entertain the slightest regard for me, I conjure you to tell me all you know upon the subject."

"And do you, my good madam, conceive that it would become my sacred calling to speak ill of my neighbour? besides, surely you would not attach any belief to the idle reports spread about the castle by ill-disposed persons?"

"All this has nothing to do with my question, my lord," resumed I. "I ask you once again, whether you ever heard the duc de Villeroi assign his passion for one of my women as the reason for his visits to me? Have you, my lord bishop? I entreat you to answer."

"Madam, I have not," said the good prelate, colouring deeply.

"Ah, monsieur de Roquelaure," cried I, "you must not say mass to-morrow, for I greatly fear you have just committed a certain fault which is styled fibbing."

The bishop made no reply, and his silence spoke volumes of confirmation.

Scarcely had he quitted me than the duc d'Aiguillon entered, to whom I put the same question; and he frankly confessed, that the excuse alleged to have been used by the duc de Villeroi was strictly the expression of that gentleman.

"I was wrong," said the duke, "not to have mentioned it to you, but I was silent from a desire to preserve peace between you. Now that the affair has been revealed to you, I will not sully my lips with a falsehood for the pleasure of upholding an unprincipled man."

"I will not ask you to tell me more," replied I. "I know enough to make me despise the cowardly spirit of him whom I reject as unworthy of my friendship." So saying, I ran to my writing-table, and wrote to the duc de Villeroi the following note:—

"MONSIEUR LE DUC,—I love my friends with all their faults, but I cannot pardon their perfidy; and, since from what I have heard I am left to conclude, that but for the charms of my attendant Sophie, I should not have been favoured with so many of your visits, I now write to warn you, that I this day dismiss the unfortunate object of your admiration from my service, and therefore recommend you to cease all further communication. Your presence in my house would be any thing but agreeable to me; and since the fair object which has hitherto attracted you will no longer dwell under my roof, I presume your presenting yourself before me would only be more painful than you have hitherto found it. The frankness of my conduct may offend you, but it cannot surprise or grieve you more than your duplicity has me.

"I remain with befitting sentiments, monsieur le duc,

"Your most humble and obedient servant."

When I had completed my letter, I rang, and a footman attended. "Go, "said I to him," carry this note immediately to the duc de Villeroi, and wait, if it be necessary, the whole day, until you can return with the assurance that you have delivered it into his own hand."

Whilst I was thus speaking to the man, who had been engaged by my steward, and very recently entered into my service, I chanced to look at him inadvertently, when my attention was arrested by seeing him rapidly change colour. I could not at the moment conceive what could thus agitate him, and making a sign for him to depart immediately upon his commission, he slowly left the room, regarding me as he went in such a manner, that I could not fail recognising him: and here, my friend, I must lay aside every particle of self-love and vanity ere I can make you a complete confession; the retrospect of my life brings many events, of which the remembrance is indeed painful to me, and only the solemn promise I am under to conceal nothing restrains me from consigning many particulars to oblivion. I am once more about to incur the chance of drawing down your contempt by my candour, but before I enter upon the subject, permit me to conclude my affair with the duc de Villeroi.

My letter was a thunderbolt to the duke. He better than any one knew the extent of my credit, which he dreaded, lest I might employ it to his injury; he therefore hastened to reply to me in the following words:—

"MADAME LA COMTESSE,—I am a most unhappy, or rather a vilely calumniated man; and my enemies have employed the most odious means of making me appear despicable in your eyes. I confess, that not daring to aspire to you, I stopped at the footstool of your throne, but I wholly deny the words which have been laid to my charge. I venture to expect from your justice that you will grant me the favour of an opportunity of exculpating myself from so black a charge. It would be cruel indeed to condemn a man without hearing him.

"I am with the most profound respect, &c."

To this hypocritical epistle I replied by another note as follows:—

"Every bad and unfavourable case may be denied, monsieur le duc, therefore I am not astonished at your seeking to repel the charge of having uttered the disrespectful words laid to your charge. As for the explanations you offer me they would be fruitless; I will have none with those who have either been my friends or appeared to be such. I must therefore beg you will cease all attempts at a correspondence which can lead to no good results.

"I have the honour to remain, &c., &c."

After this business was despatched, I caused Sophie to be sent for to attend me.

"Well, Sophie," said I, " you perceive the confusion you have occasioned through your folly. Is it then true that the duc de Villeroi has spoken of love to you?"

"Yes, indeed, madam," replied the poor girl, weeping bitterly.

"And you return his passion."

"I believe so, madam."

This confession made me smile. I continued—

"Then you are not quite sure of the fact?"

"No, madam; for when I do not see him I forget all about it; but when he is before me, so handsome and so generous, so full of love, I try to make myself equally fond of him; but somehow I cannot help preferring his courier, M. l'Eclair."

These last words completely destroyed all attempts at preserving my gravity, and I burst into the most uncontrollable laughter, which, however, soon gave place to a painful recollection of how soon this young and artless creature, as simple as she was beautiful, was likely to lose this open-heartedness in the hands of her seducer.

"Sophie," said I to her at last, "this unfortunate affair forbids my retaining you any longer in my service; I am compelled to send you from me. I trust this noble lover of yours will never forsake you; have a care only to conceal from him, should you persist in encouraging his addresses, that he has a rival in the person of his courier, l'Eclair."

Sophie threw herself weeping at my feet. I raised and encouraged her by the kindest words to pursue the right path, but I remained steady in my determination of sending her from me.

I was not mistaken. The duc de Villeroi became the possessor of poor Sophie, and publicly boasted of having her under his protection. He did not, however, proceed to these extreme measures until he had essayed every possible means of effecting a reconciliation with me, and he employed more than a hundred persons in the vain attempt of inducing me to pardon him. With this view the marechale de Mirepoix, whose succour he had implored, observed to me that it was sometimes necessary to feign to overlook an insult; I replied, that dissimulation was an art I knew nothing of, nor did I wish ever to acquire it.

"Really, my dear countess," cried she, "you should not live at court, you are absolutely unfit for it."

"It may be so," replied I; "but I would rather quit Versailles altogether than be surrounded by false and perfidious friends."

All the remonstrances of the good-natured marechale were fruitless, I could not bring myself to pardon a man who had so openly outraged my friendship.

Directly I saw the king, I related the whole affair to him.

"It must be confessed," said he, "that the duke has behaved very ill towards you, but he has certainly shown his taste as far as regards Sophie. She is a sweet creature."

"Ah! you are all alike," cried I. "You gentlemen think a pretty face an excuse for every fault; and he only deserves blame who can attach himself where beauty is wanting."

"Because he is a simpleton for so doing," said Louis XV with the utmost gravity, giving me at the same time an affectionate embrace.



CHAPTER XXIV

The prince des Deux Ponts—Prince Max—The dauphin and Marie Antoinette—The comtesse du Barry and Bridget Rupert—The countess and Genevieve Mathon—Noel—Fresh amours—Nocturnal adventure— Conclusion of this intrigue

All my friends were not treacherous as the duc de Villeroi; and I may gratefully assert I have possessed many true and sincere ones who have ever faithfully adhered to my fortunes. One in particular I shall mention here, that I may recommend him to your warmest esteem; for, although of high and distinguished rank, he did not despise the good opinion of the meanest citizen. I speak of the prince de Deux Ponts, Charles Auguste Christian. This prince, who chanced to visit France during the zenith of my court favour, was very desirous of seeing me, and both he and his brother were presented to me by the comte de la Marche, their friend, and they quickly requested the honor of my friendship. Auguste Christian pleased me most by his gentle and amiable manners, although most persons gave the preference to his brother, Maximilian Joseph, better known by the name of prince Max. Auguste Christian, in the fervour of his attachment, speaking openly to me of the delicacy of the situation, proposed to me, in case of any reverse, that I should seek an asylum in his dominions; and I must do him the justice to say, that at the death of the king, far from forgetting his proffer, he lost no time in reminding me of it. Fidelity and attachment such as his, is sufficiently rare to merit a place in my journal. The prince des Deux Ponts was presumptive heir to an immense inheritance, that of the electorate of Bavaria, and the electorate Palatine, to the latter of which he was direct heir after the decease of his cousin, the present elector. I could almost wish that he had already succeeded to these possessions: he can never reign too soon for the happiness of his subjects.

Prince Max had served in France; he was extremely well looked upon at court both by the king and the princesses. As for the dauphiness, prejudiced against him as she was by her mother, she naturally regarded him with an eye of cool mistrust, and manifested her open dislike by never inviting him to any of her parties. Prince Max spoke of this pointed neglect to the king, who immediately summoned the dauphin. "My son," said he to him, "I see with regret that prince Max is never an invited guest at any of your balls and fetes. Remember, he belongs to a family which has been our most ancient ally, and do not take up the quarrels of a house which, until your marriage, has ever been disposed in deadly hatred to us."

If the dauphin was not gifted with a very extensive capacity, he was possessed of sufficient plain sense to comprehend, and to enter into the views of his grandfather, to whom he pledged his word, that henceforward prince Max should be treated with more respect; and he kept his word, for the instant he returned to his apartments, he commanded the duc de la Vauguyon to add the name of prince Max to the list of invited persons. When the paper was drawn out it was carried to the dauphiness, who was with her husband. She read on till she came to the name of prince Max, which she desired might be erased; but the dauphin interfered. "Oblige me," cried he, "by suffering this name to remain; his ancestors have for ages been the friends of our family, and his alliance may one day be useful to us in Germany."

The dauphiness comprehended the signification of these words, and her fine eyes were filled with tears. However, she no longer insisted upon the erasure, when her husband, who most tenderly loved her, further declared it to be the king's desire that nothing should be done which could in any way displease the prince des Deux Ponts. He was, therefore, from that period invited to the house of Marie Antoinette, who indemnified herself for this compulsory civility, by refusing to bestow upon him one single smile or gracious word. It must indeed be agreed that the dauphiness had brought with her into France too many Austrian notions, which she was long in losing for those of a wife and mother; but now at the moment of my writing this, she is much changed, and is as true a French woman as though she had been born and bred in Paris. Unfortunately, the people appear slow in giving her credit for her altered opinions, and to this mistake will she owe the loss of that general love and popularity to which she has such just claims.

Prince Auguste Christian entertained for me a sincere regard, which I returned with the truest friendship. My feelings were as pure and simple as his own, spite of the odious calumnies with which my enemies have attacked this harmless acquaintance; but their slander in this matter was no worse than the manner in which they spoke of every person who visited me. According to their report, I was the mistress of all who presented themselves. 'Tis well for you, ye courtly dames, that you may convert friends into lovers with impunity; be the number ever so large none dares arraign your conduct; but for those of more humble pretensions it is indeed considered atrocious to number more than two admirers; should we ask to swell the list to a third—what comments, what scandal, what vilifying reports are in circulation! In this letter, my friend, I shall speak to you exclusively of myself. You will find little in my conduct to praise, and I fear, much to blame. You will easily perceive my heart was better than my head; and dear as your opinion is to me, I write on in the hope, that should my candid avowal lose me any portion of your esteem, it will yet obtain me a larger share of your friendship. The dismissal of Sophie from my service occasioned a vacancy in my household. Immediately her departure was known, I received numberless solicitations from all who heard of it. Three days afterwards, Henriette came to inform me that the wife of an attorney of Chatelet solicited the task of serving me in Sophie's stead; that she was a well-looking and respectable person, and might very probably suit me.

"Will you see her, madam?" continued Henriette. "She is recommended by the marchioness de Montmorency."

"Willingly," answered I; "desire her to come in." Henriette left me and quickly returned, introducing the new candidate.

At the first glimpse I recognised Brigitta Rupert, that haughty girl, who had been my early friend and companion at Saint Aure, but who found it impossible to continue her friendship and favour to a humble milliner's girl. The sight of her occasioned me a surprise by no means of a pleasing nature; and the involuntary start I gave, evidently recalled me to her recollection. In a moment her cheeks assumed the paleness of death, and her self-love seemed to suffer the most horrible torments at the light in which our rencontre mutually placed us. As soon as she could command herself sufficiently to speak, she cried,

"Ah! madam, do I then appear in your presence?"

"Yes," replied I, "before the poor and humble milliner to whom you so harshly refused your friendship,"

"Fortune has well avenged you, madam," said Brigitta, in a melancholy tone; "and as I can easily imagine how unpleasant the sight of me must be, I will hasten to relieve you from it."

These last words touched me, and restored me in a degree to my natural good temper.

"Brigitta," said I to her, "after the little affection you have ever manifested for me, it would be impossible as well as unwise to take you into my service; but let me know in what way I can best promote the interest of yourself and husband, and I pledge myself to accomplish it for you."

"I thank you, madam," answered she, resuming her accustomed haughtiness, "I came to solicit a situation near the person of the comtesse du Barry. Since that is refused me, I have nothing more to request."

"Be it as you please," replied I. Brigitta made a low courtesy, and quitted the room.

Henriette, who had been the witness of this scene, expressed her apprehensions that I should be displeased with her for introducing an unwelcome visitor to me. "No," cried I, "'tis not with you I am vexed., but myself."

"And why so, dear madam?"

"Because I reproach myself with having in my own prosperity forgotten one of my earliest and dearest friends, who loved me with the tenderest affection. Possibly she may now be in trouble or difficulties, from which I might have a thousand ways of relieving her; but it is never too late to do good. To-morrow, early, you shall set out for Paris; when there, go to the rue Saint Martin, inquire for the sign of la Bonne Foi; it is kept by a pastrycook, named M. Mathon, of whom I wish you to learn every particular relative to his daughter Genevieve."

My wishes were laws to Henriette, who instantly retired to prepare for her journey. I had not ventured to desire her to glean any information concerning the brother of Genevieve, and yet at the recollection of the handsome Nicolas my heart beat impetuously. With what impatience did I await the return of Henriette! at length she came.

"Well!" said I.

"I have found out M. Mathon," answered Henriette.

"Which, the father?"

"Yes, madam."

"And what is his present occupation?"

"As usual, madam, superintending his kitchen and shop."

"Is he alone in his business?"

"Oh, no! madam; he is assisted by his son, a fine dark handsome young man."

"His son then lives with him?"

"Yes, madam, and he is married."

"Married!—but it is not of this young man I wish to speak, but of his sister, of Genevieve; tell me of her."

"I only learned, madam, that she had married a tailor, named Guerard—who, after having been very unsuccessful in business, died suddenly, leaving her wholly destitute with two young children."

I immediately wrote the following note to my early friend:—

"The comtesse du Barry having heard of the misfortunes of madame Guerard, and knowing how much she is deserving of a better fate, is desirous of being useful to her. She therefore requests madame Guerard will call next Monday, at two o'clock, on her at her hotel, rue de la Pussienne."

Poor Genevieve nearly fainted when she received this note, which was conveyed to her by a footman wearing my livery. She could not imagine to whom she was indebted for procuring her such exalted patronage, and she and her family spent the intervening hours before her appointed interview in a thousand conjectures on the subject. On Monday, punctually at two o'clock, she was at the hotel dressed in her best, her lovely countenance setting off the humble style of even her holiday garb. She knew me the instant she saw me; and, in the frank simplicity of her own heart imagining she could judge of mine, she ran to me, and threw herself into my arms, exclaiming,

"Oh, my dear Jeannette, what pleasure does it afford me to meet you again. Oh! I see how it is; you are the friend of the comtesse du Barry, and it is to you I shall owe my future good fortune, as I do this present mark of her favor."

"No, my good Genevieve," cried I, weeping for joy, "she who now embraces you is the comtesse du Barry."

After we had a little recovered ourselves, I took my friend by the hand, and led her to a sofa, where we seated ourselves side by side. Returning to the scenes of our early youth, I related to Genevieve all that had occurred since—my adventures, faults, and favour. When I had concluded my recital, Genevieve commenced hers, but it was soon told. There is little to relate in the life of a woman who has passed her days in the virtuous discharge of her duties.

Our mutual confidences being over, and having again exchanged a most affectionate embrace, I put into the hands of my companion a portfolio, containing 30,000 livres in bank bills. I promised her likewise to obtain for her some lucrative situation. "Do more than this for me!" cried Genevieve. "Since you will still grant me your friendship, secure for me the happiness of occasionally meeting you. I can with truth declare, that of all your proofs of kindness and regard, that which I prefer is the pleasure of seeing you."

This ingenuous request touched my heart, and I replied to it by fondly caressing the warm-hearted Genevieve, and assuring her that my purse and my house should be ever open to her. We then resumed our interesting reminiscences, and Genevieve was the first to speak of her brother. At the name of Nicolas I felt the blood mount to my very forehead, and an indefinable sensation passed over me at the mention of him who had possessed my virgin love. I strove, however, to conceal from my friend the powerful emotion which agitated me, and I replied, with apparent tranquillity, that I should be happy to assist her brother with the best of my credit and influence; and I kept my word by obtaining for him, at the solicitation, of his sister, some lucrative situation, the exact nature of which I do not now recollect, where they resided together in ease and comfort. I had only to recommend them to the notice of M. de Boulogne, who felt himself much flattered at being selected by me to make the fortunes of my two friends.

>From this time Genevieve visited me as frequently as she could, and her society delighted me; whilst, in her conversation I found a frankness and sincerity which I had vainly sought for at court. She had loved me when a simple milliner, and she cherished the same fond regard for me in my improved situation. Her friendship has not forsaken me in my reverses; and I feel quite assured that death only will dissolve the tender friendship which still subsists between us. As for her brother, he spared me much shame and confusion by never seeking my presence; a meeting with him would indeed have overwhelmed me with painful recollections.

And now, my friend, I am about to relate to you an adventure, the bare mention of which covers my cheek with guilty blushes; fain would I conceal it from you, but my promise is given to lay my whole heart before you, and it shall be done, cost what it may.

I know not why it should ever have been permitted you gentlemen to frame laws, which, while they permit you, in the gratification of your passions, to descend ever so low in the scale of society without any disgrace attaching itself to you from the obscure condition of the object of your search, to us females it is prohibited, under penalty of incurring the utmost degradation, to gratify the inclination of our hearts when awakened by one of more humble rank than our own. A great lord may love a kitchen maid, a noble duke, like M. de Villeroi, may indulge his fancy for a waiting-woman, and yet lose no portion of his dignity, or of the esteem in which the world holds him; but, on the other hand, woe to the high-born dame who should receive the homage of an obscure citizen, or the noble countess who should lend a favourable ear to the sighs of her ; the public voice would loud and angrily inveigh against so flagrant a breach of decorum. And why should this be? But, my friend, do you not see in my seeking to defend so weak a cause sufficient intimation that such a justification involves a consciousness of requiring it? Alas! I plead guilty, and will no longer delay the painful confession I have to make.

Do you remember a singularly handsome young man, who, during my abode with madame Lagarde, fascinated me till my very senses seemed bewildered by my passion. You know how he betrayed me, and how, through him, I was expelled the house, as well as the termination of this foolish adventure. You are now to pass over seven or eight years, and take your place with me in the drawing-room, in which I stood when I rang to summon a servant to convey a letter to the duc de Villeroi. You may remember what I told you in the last chapter of the person who entered, of his agitation and his blushes, and of his fixing his eyes with deep meaning upon me till he quitted the room-this servant was Noel!

Had I listened to the dictates of prudence, I should, without loss of time, have obtained against him a , which would have freed me from all chance of discovery through his means; but I could not listen to such cool-blooded, though cautious, suggestions. One idea only took possession of my mind—the absurd desire to know what had become of Noel since we separated, and by what accident I now found him wearing my livery in the castle. With this intent I availed myself of the first moment I was secure from interruption, to summon him to my presence. He threw himself at my feet, imploring of me to pardon his audacity. "Alas, madam!" said he, "I am more unfortunate than guilty. I saw you walking some time since, and I could obtain no rest or peace till I was fortunate enough to obtain admission to your establishment. Punish me for my temerity if you will; expel me from the castle, have me confined in a prison, I deserve it all; but, voluntarily, I cannot leave this house; and if you will only permit my stay, I solemnly vow you shall see nothing in my conduct but the zeal of an attached and respectful servant."

I was weak enough to pardon Noel and shortly after to raise him to the rank of , which brought him infinitely too much about me.

Yes, my friend, the woman is, after all attempts to excuse it, blamable for bestowing her affection on one below herself in the scale of society. Nature herself appears to have planted in our bosoms a kind of instinct, which warns us from it, and a prejudice against all those who so degrade themselves. It is different with men; they can confer rank and elevation on the beloved object. A woman should always have reason to look up to and feel proud of the man to whom she consigns her heart; this species of vanity is mixed with the noblest love, and the woman who can overlook it, acts from passion of the lowest, basest kind. How easy is it to reason! Alas! Why have I not always acted as well as I speak.

I was thus again a second time enthralled by Noel, and much more so, too, than I will now tell you. My faithful Henriette, whose devoted attachment for me kept her ever watchful of my safety and reputation, was thunderstruck at perceiving what I vainly strove to conceal from her; and, as she has since told me, was long in deciding whether to speak to me of the affair, when an unexpected incident arose, which determined her, at every risk of my displeasure, to use her endeavors to put an end to so disgraceful a connexion, which must infallibly have ended in my disgrace.

One night, or rather midnight, all was at rest in the castle, and I was sleeping peacefully in the arms of Noel, when all at once I was awakened by the sudden opening of an outer door, which announced to me the approach of the king, who had merely one more door to open ere he would be in my apartment. Noel, terrified, leaped quickly out of bed, and ran to seek refuge in a small chamber adjoining where Henriette slept. Happily she was yet awake; and, by the light of a night-lamp or recognized Noel, who, with clasped hands, conjured her to take pity upon him. Henriette saw the danger, and putting out her hand, seized him, and drawing him rapidly towards her, made him lie down beside her. Noel, struck with her goodness, was preparing to offer her the same marks of his gratitude he had shown me of his respect; but repulsing him, she said in a low voice, "Wretch, think not it is on your account I thus expose my reputation; 'tis to save that of my beloved mistress; either conduct yourself with silent respect or you are lost." At this threat Noel 's courage melted away and he lay still as a frightened child. "Listen," said Henriette, "if you do not quit this place to-morrow at break of day, without seeking to see madame again, I will denounce you to the king, who will inflict upon you the most dreadful punishment."

Whilst these things were passing in the chamber of Henriette, I did not feel perfectly at ease on my side, and many were the wise reflections I made upon my folly, as well as the promises I gave never again to expose myself to such imminent danger. Nor did my terrors abate till after the king had quitted me. At the sound of my bell Henriette hastened to my bed-side.

"My good Henriette," said I to her, trembling from head to foot, "what a night of anxiety have I passed, I must indeed confess—"

"Fear not, my beloved mistress," replied she; "I will watch over your safety, and trust to be enabled fully to provide for it."

I durst not then ask for any further explanation of her words, for such was the ascendancy her good and steady conduct had given her over me, that she would certainly have blamed me for my glaring imprudence. I pressed her hand in mute thankfulness; she comprehended my silence and left me to myself.

At the end of some days, seeing nothing of Noel, I ventured to question her as to his fate: she then related to me all you have been told, and added, that the day following this shameful and unfortunate night she had lost no time in apprizing the comte Jean of all that had occurred, who had quickly despatched Noel out of the kingdom, furnishing him with a purse of ten thousand livres to defray his travelling expenses. Such was the fortunate termination of this disgraceful affair; and now, having completed my painful confession, I will change the subject to others doubtless more calculated to interest you than the recital of such lapses.



CHAPTER XXV

Madame du Barry succeeds in alienating Louis XV from the due de Choiseul—Letter from madame de Grammont—Louis XV—The chancellor and the countess—Louis XV and the abbe de la Ville—The marechale de Mirepoix and madame du Barry

Matters now assumed an air of importance. My struggle with the des Choiseuls had become a deadly war, which could only be terminated either by his downfall or my dismissal from court; this latter measure was not very probable; an old man is not easily detached from a woman whom he loves, and each day only added to my ascendancy over the mind of the king. It is true, that the same force of habit which enchained Louis XV to me bound him likewise to M. de Choiseul. The idea of change terrified him; and so great was his dread of fresh faces, that he would have preferred dying with his old minister, to creating a younger one who might witness his end. Happily the duke himself brought on the crisis of his fate; his power was cramped on all sides, yet, resolved not to lay it down till the last extremity, he sought to stay his failing credit with the rising influence of the dauphiness. His enemies were not slow in pointing out to the king his minister's frequent visits and great assiduities to a foreign princess, and enlarged upon the fatal effects this new alliance might produce to the monarchy.

Meanwhile the chancellor, threatened by the parliaments, saw only one way of averting the storm which was about to burst on his head. This was to introduce into the cabinet persons entirely devoted to himself; but to accomplish his purpose, it was necessary to exclude the duc de Choiseul and his party. M. de Maupeou came to me in December, and after having gently scolded me for what he termed my carelessness, he showed me a letter from the duchesse de Grammont, which, he said, would wonderfully aid our plans. This letter was written to one of the presidents of the parliament of Toulous, M. de ——. I cannot give you his name; for, although I have preserved the original of the letter, I have mislaid the envelope on which the address was written. I here give you a copy of this curious and important production:—

"MONSIEUR LE PRESIDENT,— I promised to give you the exact details of all that passed in this gay metropolis, and 'tis with much pleasure I sit down to fulfill my engagement. Things go on much as usual, or, perhaps, I should be speaking more correctly, were I to say they are rapidly progressing from bad to worse. We have no longer a king in France; all power is lodged in the hands of one sprung from the most infamous origin; who, in conjunction with others as intriguing as herself, seeks only to ruin the kingdom, and to degrade it in the eyes of other nations.

"The noble firmness of sovereign courts is odious to people of this class; thus you may imagine the detestation in which they regard the candid and loyal conduct of the duke. I n the hopes of procuring the dismissal of my brother, they have chosen for his successor wretch loaded with crimes, a coward, an extortioner, a murderer—the duc d'Aiguillon. As for you gentlemen, who now constitute our parliament, your places will soon be filled by a magistracy drawn from the dregs of society; a troop of slaves, deaf and blind, except as he who pays them best will have them exercise those powers.

"This is no time for indolent repose; we must at once courageously and unanimously defeat the guilty schemes of our enemies. So long as my brother retains his present post he will support you with his best interest; but, should he be dismissed, your business will soon be finished.

"I beg my best remembrances, first, to your excellent lady, and after her, to madame B. and madame L., not forgetting the marquise de Chalret, whose wit is truly Attic; nor the marquise de P—s, who conceals beneath the graceful exterior of a Languedocian the soul of one of Corneille's Roman matrons. For yourself rely upon my warmest friendship and endeavours to serve you. My brother is most anxious to know you, after the flattering manner in which I have mentioned you to him. When will you gratify us both by visiting Paris?

"Ever yours,"

Nothing could have arrived more for our purpose than this letter. I was still engaged in its perusal when the king was announced; I wished to hurry it back into the hands of M. de Maupeou; but he, more crafty than I, requested I would keep it.

"It is fitting," said he, "that it should be seen by the right person."

Louis XV, astonished at the strange scene, inquired what it meant.

"A most shameful piece of scandal, sire," replied I.

"An infamous epistle," added the chancellor, "which one of my friends managed to abstract from the post-office, and forwarded to me: I brought it to madame la comtesse, that she might admire the determined malice of our enemies."

"You excite my curiosity," cried Louis XV. "Madame, have the kindness to allow me to see this paper." "Indeed, sire," exclaimed I, "I know not whether I ought to obey your majesty, so entirely has the writer of the letter forgotten the respect duc to your sacred person."

"Oh," said the king, "I do not fear that; I am but too well used to the offence to feel astonishment at its occurrence."

I placed the paper in the hand of Louis XV, whose eye easily recognised the handwriting of madame de Grammont. "Ah, ah!" cried he, "is it so? let us see what this restless lady has to say of us all." I watched the countenance of the king as he read, and saw the frown that covered it grow darker and darker; nevertheless he continued to read on without comment till he had reached the end; then sitting down and looking full at the chancellor, he exclaimed,

"Well, M. de Maupeou, and what do you think of this business?"

"I am overwhelmed with consternation, sire," replied he, "when I think that one of your majesty's ministers should be able to conspire thus openly against you."

"Stay," cried Louis hastily, "that fact is by no means proved. The duchesse de Grammont is a mad woman, who involves the safety of her brother; if I only believed him capable of such treachery, he should sleep this night in the Bastille, and to-morrow the necessary proceedings should be commenced against him: as for his sister, I will take care of her within four good walls, and avenge myself for her past misconduct, by putting it out of her power to injure me further."

"Sire," said I, in my turn, "remember she is a woman; I beseech you to pardon her, and let the weight of your just indignation fall upon her brother."

"Chancellor," cried the king, "this business must not be lightly passed over."

"Nor without due consideration," replied M. de Maupeou, "your majesty may look upon this letter as the basis of a secret plot: as for the duchess, I am of my cousin's opinion; despise her audacious attempts, but spare not her brother; he alone is the guilty as well as dangerous person."

The king made no answer, but rose, and crushing the letter in his hand, threw it from him.

"Would," exclaimed he at last, "that the fiends had those who take such delight in disgusting me with my very existence. Heavens! how justly may I say I despise all men; nor have I a much better opinion of your sex, madame la comtesse, I must warn you."

"Much obliged, sire," cried I; " really I was not prepared for such gallantry. It is rather hard that you should quarrel with me because this disagreeable duchess behaves ill! Upon my word it is very unpleasant!"

"Come, come," said Louis XV, kissing my cheek, "don't you be a naughty child; if I had not you, where should I turn for consolation amidst the torments by which I am surrounded? Shall I tell you? In the midst of all these perplexing affairs, there are moments in which I fear I may not be promoting the happiness of my people."

"Your majesty is greatly mistaken," replied the chancellor; "the nation in general must esteem themselves most happy under your reign; but it will always happen that ill-disposed persons seek to pervert the public opinion, and to lead men's minds astray. The duchess, when travelling, was the faithful and active agent of her brother. The duke, to secure his stay in the ministry, will eagerly avail himself of every adventitious aid; within your kingdom he seeks the support of the parliaments and philosophers; without, he claims the succour of Germany and Spain. Your majesty is certainly master of your own will, and it would ill become me to point out the path you should tread; but my duty compels me to say, that the duc de Choiseul is the greatest enemy of the royal house: of this he gave me a convincing proof in the case of your august son; and now, if he fancied he should find it more advantageous to have the dauphin for his master—"

"Chancellor of France," cried Louis, much agitated, "do you know what you are asserting?"

"The truth, sire," I exclaimed. "The public voice accuses the duc de Choiseul of the death of your son; they declare—"



"How! you, too, madam!" exclaimed the king looking at me fixedly.

"And why not, sire? I am merely repeating what is in every one's mouth."

"I have heard this horrible charge before," added the king; "the Jesuits informed me of it, but I could not give credit to such a monstrosity."

"So much the worse," replied I; "in the world in which we live we should always be on our guard."

"Sire," added the chancellor, with the most diabolical address, "I am persuaded that M. de Choiseul is the most honourable man in the world, and that he would shudder at the bare idea of any attempt upon the life of your majesty; but his relations, friends, and creatures believe, that, supported by the dauphiness, he would continue in office under your successor. Who can answer for their honour? Who can assure you, that some one among them may not do that for the duke which he would never venture to attempt himself?

"This is the personal danger your majesty runs so long as M. de Choiseul continues in office; were he dismissed, the world would soon abandon the disgraced minister, and the dauphiness be amongst the first to forget him."

The king was pale with agitation, and for some minutes continued traversing the apartment with hasty strides; then he suddenly stopped.

"You are then convinced, M. de Maupeou," cried he, "that the duke is leagued with the parliaments to weaken my authority?"

"There are palpable proofs to that effect," replied the chancellor; "your majesty may recollect the skilful manner in which, on the 3d of last September, he avoided attending you to parliament; most assuredly, had he not been the friend of rebels, he would not have shrunk from evincing by his presence how fully he shared your just indignation."

"That is but too true," cried Louis XV; "and I felt much annoyed at the time, that he preferred going to amuse himself at the house of M. de Laborde, when his duty summoned him to my side."

"Your majesty cannot fail to perceive how everything condemns him; his personal conduct, equally with that of his sister, proves how little he regards his royal master's interest; and should your clemency resolve upon sparing him now, you may find your mercy produce fatal effects to yourself."

"His dismissal," resumed the king, "would disorganize all my political measures. Who could I put in his place? I know no one capable of filling it."

"Your majesty's wisdom must decide the point," replied the chancellor. "My duty is to lay before you the true state of things; this I have done, and I know myself well enough not to intrude my counsel further. Nevertheless, I cannot help remarking, that in your majesty's court there are many as capable as M. de Choiseul of directing affairs—M. d'Aiguillon, for example."

"Ah!" answered Louis XV; "this is not the moment, when M. d'Aiguillon is smarting from his severe contest with the long robes, to elevate him over the head of my hitherto-esteemed minister."

M. de Maupeou and myself perceived that we should best serve my friend's cause by refraining from pressing the matter further, and we therefore changed the conversation. Nevertheless, as what had already passed had taken its full effect upon the king's mind, he suggested an idea which I should never have dreamed of recommending; and that was to consult the abbe de la Ville on the subject.

The abbe de la Ville, head clerk of foreign affairs, was a man who, at the advanced period of fourscore, preserved all the fire and vivacity of youth; he was acquainted with ministerial affairs even better than M. de Choiseul himself. Having formerly belonged to the Jesuits, to whom he was entirely devoted, he had appeared to accelerate the period of their destruction; never had he been able to pardon his patron the frightful part he had compelled him to enact in the business. Years had not weakened his ancient rancour, and it might be said, that he had clung to life with more than natural pertinacity, as unwilling to lay it down till he had avenged himself on de Choiseul. Louis XV wrote to him, desiring he would avail himself of the first pretext that occurred to request an audience. This note was forwarded by a footman, the good abbe easily divined that this mystery concealed some great design; he therefore hastened to solicit an audience as desired. When introduced into the cabinet of the king, his majesty inquired at once,

"Monsieur l' abbe, can I depend upon your discretion?"

"Sire," replied the abbe, with a blunt frankness, "I am sorry your majesty can doubt it."

"Be satisfied, sir," replied the king, "I had no intention to offend you; but I wish to consult you upon a point, the importance of which you will fully appreciate; answer me without disguise. Do you believe that the services of the duc de Choiseul are useful to my kingdom, and that my interests would suffer were I to dismiss him?"

"Sire," replied M. de la Ville, without hesitation, "I protest to you, as a man of honour, that the presence of the duc de Choiseul is by no means essential to the ministry, and that your majesty's interests would sustain not the slightest injury by his absence."

After this the abbe de la Ville entered into particulars unnecessary to repeat here; it is sufficient to say, that all he advanced materially aided our wishes. He afterwards reaped the reward of his friendly services, for when the duc d'Aiguillon had displaced the duc de Choiseul, he bestowed on M. de la Ville the title of <director of foreign affairs>, an office created for him, and the bishopric of Tricomie. The good abbe did not, however, long enjoy his honours, but ended his career in 1774.

This conversation had been repeated to me; and, on my side, I left no means untried of preventing Louis XV from placing further confidence in his minister; but, feeble and timid, he knew not on what to determine, contenting himself with treating the duke coolly; he sought, by continual rebuffs and denials to his slightest request, to compel him to demand that dismissal he had not the courage to give.

Whilst these things were in agitation, madame de Mirepoix, who had been for some days absent from Versailles, came to call upon me. This lady possessed a considerable share of wit; and, although on the most intimate terms with me, had not altogether broken off with the des Choiseuls, to whom she was further bound on account of the prince de Beauvau, her brother. It therefore excited in me no surprise, when I heard that the des Choiseuls had called on her to ascertain, whether it would not be possible, through her mediation, to come to some terms with me.

"And you must not be angry with me," continued she, "for undertaking the ; I well foresaw all the difficulties, and entertained no hopes of its success, but upon second thoughts, I considered it better I should accept the mission; for, in case of a negative being returned, it will be safe in my keeping, and I will not add to the chagrin of a failure the shame of a defeat."

"It is my opinion," replied I, "that all propositions coming from these people should be rejected; they have compelled me to raise between them and myself an immense wall of hatred, not less difficult to surmount than the grand wall of China."

"Yet," replied the marechale, smiling, "they are disposed to pay any price for so doing."

"I have friends," said I, "from whom I can never separate myself."

"They are willing that your friends shall be theirs likewise," cried she, "for they see that M. de Maupeou, the duc de la Vrilliere, and the abbe Terray, are provided for, and that the duc d'Aiguillon alone remains to be suitably established; M. de Choiseul would be happy to aid him in obtaining the post of minister of naval affairs."

"Well, and the duchesse de Grammont," inquired I, "would she visit me?"

"Oh, as to that, I know nothing about it, and can venture no opinion; my commission does not extend so far."

"I understand you," said I; "she seeks for peace only as it would enable her the better to carry on her hostilities against me. I am sorry, madame la marechale, that I cannot accept your terms for a reconciliation."

"Remember, I pray of you, that I have been an ambassadress, and nothing more," said madame de Mirepoix; "recollect I have spoken to you in the words of others, not my own. I must beg of you to be secret; if you divulge the particulars of this morning's conversation, it is I who will suffer by it: your friends will be displeased with me for my interference; and I have no inclination to provoke the anger of a party so powerful as yours."

I promised the marechale to observe an inviolable secrecy; and, so well have I kept my promise, that you are the first person to whom I ever breathed one syllable of the affair. I must own, that it struck me as strange, that the duc de Choiseul should abandon his cousin, and consent to take his seat beside the duc d'Aiguillon, whom he detested: perhaps he only sought to deceive us all by gaining time, till the death of the king. But what avails speculation upon the words and actions of a courtier, whose heart is an abyss too deep for gleam of light to penetrate?



CHAPTER XXVI

Baron d'Oigny, general post-master—The king and the countess read the opened letters—The disgrace of de Choiseul resolved upon——Anecdote—Spectre of Philip II, king of Spain—The duc de Choiseul banished—Visits to Chanteloup—The princesses—The dauphin and dauphiness—Candidates for the ministry

The interference of madame de Mirepoix, originating, as it did, in the duc de Choiseul, let me at once into the secret of his fears and the extent of my own power. The knowledge of the weakness of my adversary redoubled my energy; and from this moment, I allowed no day to pass without forwarding the great work, till I succeeded in effecting the duke's ruin and securing my own triumph. The pamphleteers in the pay of my enemies, and those who merely copied these hirelings, assert that one evening after supper, when Louis was intoxicated with wine and my seductions, I prevailed upon him to sign a against his minister, which he immediately revoked when the break of day had restored to him his senses. This was a malicious falsehood. You shall hear the exact manner in which the were signed.

On the evening of the 23d of December, his majesty having engaged to sup with me, I had invited M. de Maupeou, the duc de la Vrilliere, and the prince de Soubise. It appears, that the king, previously to coming, had gone to visit the dauphiness; he had not mentioned whither he was going, so that his attendants believed him to be in my apartments, and directed M. d'Oigny, post-master general, to seek him there. The baron brought with him a packet of opened letters; when he saw me alone he wished to retire, for the servants, believing him to be one of the expected guests, had ushered him in. However, I would not permit him to go until the king's arrival; and, half sportively, half seriously, I took from him his letters, protesting I would detain them as hostages for his obedience to my desires. At this moment Louis XV entered the room; and M. d'Oigny, having briefly stated his business, bowed and departed. The baron was a very excellent man, possessing an extensive and intelligent mind; he wrote very pleasing poetry, and had not his attention been occupied by the post he filled, he might have made a conspicuous figure in literature.

When we were left to ourselves, I said to the king,

"Now, then, for this interesting and amusing budget; for such, I doubt not, it will prove."

"Not so fast, madam, if you please," replied Louis XV; "perhaps these papers may contain state secrets unfit for your eye."



"Great secrets they must be," said I, laughing, "confided thus to the carelessness of the post." So saying, I broke the seal of the envelope so hastily, that the greater part of the letters and notes were scattered over the carpet.

"Well done," cried the king.

"I entreat your majesty's pardon," said I, "but I will repair the mischief as far as I can."

I stooped to collect the fallen papers, and the king had the gallantry to assist me: we soon piled the various letters upon a tray, and began eagerly to glance over their contents. My good fortune made me select from the mass those epistles addressed to the members of the country parliaments; they were filled with invectives against me, insulting mention of the king, and praises of the duc de Choiseul. I took especial care to read them in a loud and distinct voice.

"This really is not to be endured," cried Louis XV; "that the mistaken zeal of these long-robed gentlemen should make them thus compliment my minister at my expense."



"So much the worse for you, sire," replied I, "considering that you continue to prefer your minister to every other consideration."

As I continued searching through the letters, I found and read the following phrase:—"Spite of the reports in circulation, I do not believe it possible that M. de Choiseul will be dismissed; he is too necessary to the king, who, without him would be as incapable as a child of managing his affairs: his majesty must preserve our friend in office in spite of himself."

When I had finished, the king exclaimed, in an angry tone, "We shall see how far the prophecy of these sapient gentlemen is correct, and whether their 'friend' is so important to me that I dare not dismiss him. Upon my word, my minister has placed himself so advantageously before his master, as to exclude him entirely from the eyes of his subjects."

Whilst these words were speaking, M. de Maupeou and M. de la Vrilliere were announced; the king, still warm, let fall some words expressive of his displeasure at what had happened. The gauntlet was thrown; and so well did we work upon the irritated mind of Louis XV, that it was determined M. de Choiseul should be dismissed the following day, December 24, 1770. Chanteloup was chosen for the place of his retreat, and M. de la Vrilliere, by the dictation of the king, wrote the following letter to the duke:—

"Cousin,-, The dissatisfaction caused me by your conduct compels me to request you will confine yourself to your estate at Chanteloup, whither you will remove in four and twenty hours from the date hereof. I should have chosen a more remote spot for your place of exile, were it not for the great esteem I entertain for the duchesse de Choiseul, in whose delicate health I feel much interest. Have a care that you do not, by your own conduct, oblige me to adopt harsher measures; and hereupon I pray God to have you in his keeping."

(Signed) "Louis,

(and lower down) "PHILIPPEAUX"

When this letter was completed, I said to the king, "Surely, sire, you do not mean to forget the duke's faithful ally, M. de Praslin? It would ill become us to detain him when the head of the family has taken leave of us."

"You are right," replied the king, smiling; "besides, an old broom taken from a masthead would be as useful to us as he would."

Then, turning to M. de la Vrilliere, the king dictated the following laconic notice:—

"COUSIN,—I have no further occasion for your services; I exile you to Praslin, and expect you will repair thither within four and twenty hours after the receipt of this."

"Short and sweet," cried I.

"Now let us drop the subject," said Louis; "let madame de Choiseul repose in peace to-night, and to-morrow morning, at eleven o'clock, go yourself, M. de la Vrilliere, and carry my orders to the duke, and bring back his staff of office."

"To whom will you give it, sire?" inquired the chancellor.

"I have not yet considered the subject," replied the king.

At this instant M. de Soubise was announced. "" exclaimed the king, as M. de Soubise, little suspecting the nature of our conversation, entered the room. I profited by his coming to slip out of the room into my boudoir, from which I despatched the following note to M. d'Aiguillon:

"MY DEAR DUKE,—Victoria! We are conquerors; master and man quit Paris to-morrow. We shall replace them by our friends; and you best know whether you are amongst the number of them."

When I returned to the drawing-room, the king exclaimed,

"Come, madam., you are waited for; the prince de Soubise has a very curious anecdote to relate, which befell a lady of his acquaintance; I begged of him to defer telling it till you rejoined us."

"Are you afraid of ghosts?" inquired the marechal of me.

"Not this evening," replied I; "to-morrow, perhaps, or the next day, I may be."

This jest amused the king and the duc de la Vrilliere, whilst M. de Maupeou, who seemed to fear lest I should by any indiscretion, reveal our secret, made a signal of impatience; to which I replied, by shrugging up my shoulders. Poor M. de Soubise, although he did not comprehend my joke, laughed at it as heartily as heartily as the rest who saw its application. "Oh! you courtier," thought I We then entreated of him to commence the recital of his tale, which he did in the following words—

"There is in Lower Brittany a family gifted with a most singular endowment: each member of the family, male or female, is warned exactly one month previous to his or her decease of the precise hour and day in which it will take place. A lady belonging to this peculiar race was visiting me rather more than a month since; we were conversing quietly together, when, all at once, she uttered a loud cry, arose from her seat, endeavored to walk across the room, but fell senseless upon the floor. Much grieved and surprised at this scene, I hastily summoned my servants, who bestowed upon the unfortunate lady the utmost attention, but it was long ere she revived. I then wished to persuade her to take some rest. 'No,' cried she, rising and giving me orders for her immediate departure, "I have not sufficient time for rest; scarcely will the short period between me and eternity allow me to set my affairs in order.' Surprised at this language, I begged of her to explain herself. 'You are aware,' said she, 'of the fatal power possessed by my family; well, at the moment in which I was sitting beside you on this sofa, happening to cast my eyes on the mirror opposite, I saw myself as a corpse wrapped in the habiliments of death, and partly covered with a black and white drapery; beside me was an open coffin. This is sufficient; I have no time to lose: farewell, my friend, we shall meet no more' Thunderstruck at these words, I suffered the lady to depart without attempting to combat her opinion. This morning I received intelligence from her son that the prophecy had been fulfilled—she was no more."

When the marechal had finished, I exclaimed,

"You have told us a sad dismal tale; I really fear I shall not be able to close my eyes at all to-night for thinking of it."

"We must think of some means of keeping up your spirits," answered Louis XV. " As for your story, marechal, it does not surprise me; things equally inexplicable are continually taking place. I read in a letter addressed by Philip V, of Spain, to Louis XIV, "that the spirit of Philip II, founder of the Escurial, wanders at certain intervals around that building. Philip V affirms that he himself witnessed the apparition of the spectre of the king."

At this moment supper was announced. "Come, gentlemen," said I, "let us seek to banish these gloomy ideas around our festive board." Upon which the king conducted me to the supper-room, the rest of the company following us. Spite of all my efforts to be gay, and induce others to be so likewise, the conversation still lingered upon this dismal subject.

"Heaven grant," exclaimed the chancellor, "that I may not soon have to dread a visit from the ghost of the deceased parliament; however, if such were the case, it would not prevent my sleeping."

"Oh!" cried the king, "these long-robed gentlemen have often more effectually robbed me of sleep than all the spectres in the world could do; yet one night—"

"Well, sire," said I, seeing that Louis was silent, "and what happened to you that night?"

"Nothing that I can repeat," answered Louis XV, glancing around with a mournful look.

A dead silence followed, which lasted several minutes; and this evening, which was to usher my day of triumph, passed away in the most inconceivable dullness. What most contributed to render me uneasy was the reflection, that, at the very moment when we had freed ourselves of our enemies, we were ignorant who would fill their vacant places. This was an error, and a great one. My friends would not listen to the nomination of the Comte de Broglie, the Comte de Maillebois, the duc de la Vauguyon, any more than either M. de Soubise or M. de Castries. The abbe Terray, having upon one occasion proposed the marechal duc de Richelieu, he very narrowly escaped having his face scratched by M. d'Aiguillon, who cared very little for his dear uncle; but I have unintentionally wandered from the thread of my narrative; I will therefore resume it at once.

I had hoped that the king would this night have retired to his own apartment, and that I should have been enabled to hold a secret council with M. de Maupeou, and the ducs de la Vrilliere and d'Aiguillon; but no such thing. Imagining, no doubt, that I should be kept awake by my fear of ghosts, his majesty insisted upon remaining with me, and I was compelled to acquiesce. He passed a very agitated night, much more occupied with the des Choiseuls than me; he could think of nothing, speak of nothing, but the sensation which their disgrace would produce; he seemed to dread his family, the nobility, the nation, Europe, and the whole world. I strove to re-assure him, and to inspire him with fresh courage; and, when he quitted me in the morning, I felt convinced that he would not again alter his determination.

As soon as Louis XV had left me, Comte Jean entered. Although concealed behind the curtain, and apparently not on the best terms with me, my brother-in-law nevertheless directed my actions, and gave me most excellent advice. It was not long ere the duc d'Aiguillon arrived; he had seen M. de Maupeou during the night, and learned from him the exile of the late minister, but beyond that fact he knew nothing. He inquired of me, with much uneasiness, whether anything had been decided in his behalf. I replied, that the king was as yet undecided in his choice of ministers, but that, if the duc d'Aiguillon came into office, he would, in all probability, be nominated to the administration of foreign affairs: the direction of the war-office had been my noble friend's ardent desire.

Whilst we were thus conversing together on the 24th of December, 1770, eleven o'clock struck; and we could, from the windows, perceive M. de la Vrilliere taking his way towards that part of the building occupied by M. de Choiseul when at the castle. This latter was in conversation with M. Conzie, bishop of Arras, when the arrival of the duc de la Vrilliere, bearing the king's commands, was signified to him. The prelate, not doubting but the mission related to affairs of importance, took his leave; de la Vrilliere then presented the , accompanying it with some remarks of his own upon the talents of the minister, and his regret at being selected for so unpleasant an office. "A truce to your feigned regrets, my lord duke," replied the disgraced minister, sarcastically, "I am well assured my dismissal could not have been brought me by hands more ready to discharge the trust than yours." Saying this, M. de Choiseul placed his credentials in the hands of the duke, and slightly bowing, turned his back upon him, as though he had forgotten his presence. M. de Choiseul then retired to summon his sister, to communicate to her and his wife the misfortune which had befallen him: he then set out for Paris, to make the necessary preparations for removing to Chanteloup. There an officer from the king, charged to accompany him to his place of exile, gave him his majesty's orders that he should see no person, and receive no visits.

This order did not proceed from me, but was the work of the duc de la Vrilliere, who sought, by this paltry action, to avenge himself upon M. de Choiseul for the reception he had given him. It was wholly useless, however, for in the exile of the duke was seen a thing unheard of, perhaps, before, and, in all probability, unlikely ever to occur again—the sight of a whole court espousing the part of an exiled minister, and openly censuring the monarch who could thus reward his services. You, no doubt, remember equally well as myself the long file of carriages that for two days blocked up the road to Chanteloup. In vain did Louis XV express his dissatisfaction; his court flocked in crowds to visit M. de Choiseul.

On the other hand, the castle was not in a more tranquil state. At the news of the dismissal and banishment of M. de Choiseul, a general hue and cry was raised against me and my friends: one might have supposed, by the clamours it occasioned, that the ex-minister had been the atlas of the monarchy; and that, deprived of his succour, the state must fall into ruins. The princesses were loud in their anger, and accused me publicly of having conspired against virtue itself! The virtue of such a sister and brother! I ask you, my friend, is not the idea truly ludicrous?

The dauphiness bewailed his fall with many tears; at least, so I was informed by a lady of her suite, madame de Campan. This lady was a most loquacious person; she frequently visited my sister-in-law; and, thanks to her love of talking, we were always well-informed of all that was passing in the household of Marie Antoinette. However, the dauphin was far from sharing the grief Of his illustrious spouse. When informed of the dismissal of the duke, he cried out, "Well, madame du Barry has saved me an infinity of trouble—that of getting rid of so dangerous a man, in the event of my ever ascending the throne." The prince did not usually speak of me in the most flattering terms, but I forgave him on the present occasion, so much was I charmed with his expression relative to the late minister; it afforded me the certainty that I should not have to dread the possibility of his recalling de Choiseul.

Whilst many were bewailing the downfall of the des Choiseuls, others, who had an eye more to self-interest, presented themselves to share in the spoils of his fortune. There were the princes de Soubise and de Conde, the duc de la Vauguyon, the comtes de Broglie, de Maillebois, and de Castries, the marquis de Monteynard and many others, equally anxious for a tempting slice of the ministry, and who would have made but one mouthful of the finest and best.

The marquise de 1' Hopital came to solicit my interest for the prince de Soubise, her lover. I replied, that his majesty would rather have the marechal for his friend than his minister; that, in fact, the different appointments had taken place; and that, if the names of the parties were not immediately divulged, it was to spare the feelings of certain aspirants to the ministry: madame de 1' Hopital withdrew, evidently much disconcerted at my reply. Certainly M. de Soubise must have lost his reason, when he supposed that the successor of M. de Choiseul would be himself, the most insignificant prince of France; he only could suppose that he was equal to such an elevation. However this may be, he took upon himself to behave very much like an offended person for some days; but, finding such a line of conduct produced no good, he came round again, and presented himself as usual at my parties, whilst I received him as though nothing had occurred.

I had more difficulty in freeing myself from the importunities of Messieurs de Broglie and de Maillebois. I had given to each of them a sort of promise; I had allowed them to hope, and yet, when the time came to realize these hopes, I told them, that I possessed much less influence than was generally imagined; to which they replied, that they knew my power to serve them was much greater than I appeared to believe. After a while, I succeeded in deadening the expectations of M. de Broglie, but M. de Maillebois was long ere he would abandon his pursuit. When every chance of success had left him, he gave way to so much violence and bitterness against M. d'Aiguillon, that the duke was compelled to punish him for his impudent rage. I will mention the other candidates for the ministry at another opportunity.



CHAPTER XXVII

The comte de la Marche and the comtesse du Barry—The countess and the prince de Conde—The duc de la Vauguyon and the countess— Provisional minister—Refusal of the secretaryship of war—Displeasure of the king—The marechale de Mirepoix—Unpublished letter from Voltaire to Madame du Barry—Her reply

The comte de la Marche had always evinced the warmest regard for me, and he sought, on the present occasion, to be repaid for his attachment. Both he and the prince de Conde had their ambitious speculations in the present change of ministers; and both fancied, that because their relation, the duke, had governed during the king's minority, the right to the several appointments now vacant, belonged as a matter of course to their family. The count had already sent to solicit my interest, through the mediation of madame de Monaco, mistress to the prince de Conde; and, as I shrewdly suspect, the occasional of himself. Finding this measure did not produce all the good he expected, he came, without further preface, to speak to me himself about it. Unwilling to come to an open rupture with him, I endeavoured to make him comprehend, that the policy of the sovereign would never permit his placing any of the administrative power in the hands of the princes of his family; that he had consented, most reluctantly, to investing them with military command, and that it would be fruitless to urge more.

The comte de la Marche appeared struck by the justness of my arguments; he replied,

"Well, madam, since I cannot be a minister, I must e'en give up my wishes; but, for the love of heaven intreat of the king to bestow his favours in the shape of a little pecuniary aid. Things look ill at present; they may take a worse turn, but he may confidently rely on my loyalty and devotion: the supreme courts, driven to the last extremity, will make a stand, and princes and peers will range themselves under the banners. We well know how much this resistance will displease his majesty; I pledge myself never to forsake your cause, but to defend it with my life; that is, if my present pressing necessity for money be satisfied. How say you, madam; can you procure it for me?"

"Very probably I may be enabled to assist you," replied I; "but you must first inform me how much will satisfy you."

"Oh," answered he, carelessly, "something less than the mines of Peru will suffice; I am not extravagant, and merely ask for so much as is absolutely necessary. In the first place 60,000 livres paid down, and secondly, a yearly payment of 200,000 more."

This demand did not appear to me unreasonable, and I undertook to arrange the matter to the prince's satisfaction, well pleased on my own side to secure so illustrious an ally at so cheap a rate, I procured the assent of the king and the comptroller-general; the 60,000 livres were bestowed on the comte de la Marche in two separate payments, the pension settled on him, and, still further, an annuity of 30,000 livres was secured to madame de Monaco; and I must do the count the justice to say, that he remained faithful to our cause amidst every danger and difficulty; braving alike insults, opprobrium, and the torrent of pamphlets and epigrams of which he was the object; in fact, we had good reason for congratulating ourselves upon securing such devotion and zeal at so poor a price.

The prince de Conde, surrounded by a greater degree of worldly state and consideration, was equally important to us, although in another way. He had in some degree compromised popularity by attaching himself to me from the commencement of my court favour, and the reception he bestowed on me at Chantilly had completed his disgrace in the eyes of nobility. He visited at my house upon the most friendly footing; and whenever he found me, he would turn the conversation upon politics, the state of affairs, and the great desire he felt to undertake the direction of them in concert with me; he would add, "You might play the part of madame de Pompadour, and yet you content yourself with merely attempting to do so; you are satisfied with possessing influence when you might exercise power and command. Your alliance with a prince of the blood would render you sole mistress in this kingdom; and should I ever arrive, through your means, to the rank of prime minister, it would be my pleasure and pride to submit all things to you, and from this accord would spring an authority which nothing could weaken."

I listened in silence, and, for once, my natural frankness received a check; for I durst not tell him all I knew of the king's sentiments towards him. The fact was, Louis XV was far from feeling any regard for the prince de Conde; and, not to mince the matter, had unequivocally expressed his contempt for him. He often said to me, when speaking of him, "He is a conceited fellow, who would fain induce persons to believe him somebody of vast importance." Louis XV had prejudices, from which no power on earth could have weaned him; and the princes of the house of Conde were amongst his strongest antipathies: he knew a score of scandalous anecdotes relating to them, which he took no small pleasure in repeating.

However, all the arguments of the prince de Conde were useless, and produced him nothing, or, at least, nothing for himself, although he procured the nomination of another to the ministry, as you will hear in its proper place; but this was not sufficient to allay the cravings of his ambition; and, in his rage and disappointment, when open war was proclaimed between the king and his parliament, he ranged himself on the side of the latter. He soon, however, became weary of his new allies; and, once more abandoning himself to the guidance of interest, he rejoined our party. Well did M. de Maupeou know men, when he said they all had their price; and great as may be the rank and title of princes, with plenty of money, they too may be had.

But amongst all the candidates for the ministry, the one who occasioned me the greatest trouble was the duc de la Vauguyon, who insisted upon it that he had done much for me, and complained bitterly of his unrequited services, and of my having bestowed my confidence on others. Up to the moment of the disgrace of the des Choiseuls, he had been amongst the most bitter of the malcontents; but no sooner were they banished from court than M. de la Vauguyon forgot every thing, and hastened to me with every mark of the warmest friendship.

"Ah!" exclaimed he," I have much to scold you for, but I will forgive you all your past misdeeds, if you will perform your promise to me."

"My dear father," cried I (for I used jestingly to style him so, in the same manner as I designated the bishop of Orleans ), "are you, indeed displeased with me? That is very naughty: for you know I love you with all my heart."

"If it be true that you entertain any regard for me, why have you evinced so little towards me? Am I not of the right materials for making ministers? Why, then, have you never procured my appointment to any of the vacant situations?"

"Stay, stay, my dear father," cried I, "how you run on! To hear you talk, any person would suppose that places and appointments rained down upon me, and that I had only to say to you, my dear duke, choose which you please; then, indeed, you might complain with justice; but you know very well, that all these delightful things are in the hands of the king, who alone has a right to bestow them as he judges best, whilst I am wholly powerless in the business."

"Say, rather," replied the duke, quickly, "that you find it suits your present purpose to put on this want of power. We all know, that your veto is absolute with his majesty, and it requires nothing more to obtain whatsoever you desire."

The duc de la Vauguyon was powerful, and represented the whole of a party—that of the religionists, which was still further supported by the ; but for this very reason the triumvirate, consisting of messieurs d' Aiguillon, de Maupeou, and the abbe Terre, would not have accepted his services at any price.

The good duke returned several times to the charge; sometimes endeavouring to move me by gentle intreaties and, at others, holding out threats and menaces; good and bad words flowed from his lips like a mixture of honey and gall, but when he found that both were equally thrown away upon me, he retired offended; and by the expression of his rage and disappointment, succeeded in incensing both the dauphin and dauphiness against me. May heaven preserve you, my friend, from the anger of a bigot!

I think I have detained you long enough with the relation of the intrigues by which I was surrounded upon the dismissal of the des Choiseuls, and I will now return to the morning of the 24th of December. When the exiles were fairly out of Paris, the king found himself not a little embarrassed in the choice of a prime minister. Those who would have suited our purposes did not meet with the king's approbation, and he had not yet sufficient courage to venture upon electing one who should be disagreeable to us; he therefore hit upon a curious provisional election; the abbe Terray, for instance, was placed at the head of the war department. This measure was excused by the assertion, that it would require the head of a financier to look into and settle the accounts, which the late minister had, no doubt, left in a very confused state. Upon the same principle, M. Bertin was appointed to the direction of foreign affairs, and M. de Boynes was invested solely with the management of naval affairs. This man, who was counsellor of state, and first president of the parliament of Besancon, knew not a letter of the office thus bestowed upon him, but then he was bound body and soul to the chancellor; and it was worth something to have a person who, it might be relied on, would offer no opposition to the important reforms which were to be set on foot immediately. We required merely automata, and M. de Boynes answered our purpose perfectly well; for a provisional minister nothing could have been better.

The king had at length (in his own opinion), hit upon a very excellent minister of war; and the person selected was the chevalier, afterwards comte de Muy, formerly usher to the late dauphin: he was a man of the old school, possessing many sterling virtues and qualities. We were in the utmost terror when his majesty communicated to us his election of a minister of war, and declared his intention of immediately signifying his pleasure to M. de Muy. Such a blow would have overthrown all our projects. Happily chance befriended us; the modern Cato declared that he should esteem himself most honored to serve his sovereign by every possible endeavour, but that he could never be induced to enter my service upon any pretext whatever. The strangeness of this refusal puzzled Louis XV not a little. He said to me. "Can you make out the real motive of this silly conduct? I had a better opinion of the man; I thought him possessed of sense, but I see now that he is only fit for the cowl of a monk; he will never be a minister." The king was mistaken; M. de Muy became one under the auspices of his successor.

Immediately that the prince de Conde was informed of what had passed, he recommenced his attack; and finding he could not be minister himself, he determined, at least, to be principally concerned in the appointment of one; he therefore proposed the marquis de Monteynard, a man of such negative qualities, that the best that could be said of him was, that he was as incapable of a bad as of a good action; and, for want of a better, he was elected. Such were the colleagues given to M. de Maupeou to conduct the war which was about to be declared against the parliaments. I should tell you, , that the discontent of the magistracy had only increased, and that the parliament of Paris had even finished by refusing to decide the suits which were referred to them; thus punishing the poor litigants for their quarrel with the minister.