de Maupeou--The comtesse du Barry saves the life of a young
     girl seduced by the arts of the curé 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 '_sacred person_' is the object; and I am _continually_ encountering
'_by chance_' 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'Assuérus attendent leur arret._'

"_Assuérus_ (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 '_sapajou_'; 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 _cousin_, the chancellor of France, had remained to keep me company
instead of joining the party at Chantilly. _My cousin_, 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 _cousin_, 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 curé 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 curé 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 _protegee_ 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 _rouleau_ 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 Compiègne, 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 Compiègne 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 fêtes in my honor, were perpetually
devising fresh schemes to render the place agreeable to me; and in that
they perfectly succeeded, for I quitted Compiègne 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 Penthièvre 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 Compiègne, 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 Sévres
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 Sévres, 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 d id 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 Condé, 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 fête 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 Condé 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 Condé, 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 clamourous," 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 maréchal 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 maréchal 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 maréchal 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 maréchal 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 _I_ 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 Morlière--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 Morlière, 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
Morlière 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 maréchal 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 Morlière; 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 Grêve
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 _protégé_? 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'Hôpital 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'Hôpital, 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 fort
 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 _terra firma_; 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 _mâitre d'hôtel_, 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 _my_ 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 maréchal 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 maréchal 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 maréchal, whose
parsimony was almost proverbial, of making such a magnificent present.

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!
mame la chale!_" ("Ah! Madame la maréchale "). The poor maréchale
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 _naïf_ 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 maréchale 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 maréchale 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 Geneviève Mathon--Noël--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 Pouts 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 fêtes. 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 Geneviève."

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 Geneviève, 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 Geneviève; tell me of her."

"I only learned, madam, that she had married a tailor, named
Guérard--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
Guérard, and knowing how much she is deserving of a better fate, is
desirous of being useful to her. She therefore requests madame Guérard
will call next Monday, at two o'clock, on her at her hotel, rue de la
Pussienne."

Poor Geneviève 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 Geneviève," 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 Geneviève all that had
occurred since--my adventures, faults, and favour. When I had concluded
my recital, Geneviève 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 Geneviève. "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 Geneviève, and assuring her that my purse
and my house should be ever open to her. We then resumed our interesting
reminiscences, and Geneviève 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 Geneviève 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 _valet de chambre_; 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 Noël!

Had I listened to the dictates of prudence, I should, without loss of
time, have obtained against him a _lettre de cachet_, 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
Noël 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 Noël and shortly after to raise him to the
rank of _valet de chambre_, 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 Noël, 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 Noël, 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. Noël, 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
_veilleuse_ recognized Noël, 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. Noël, 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 Noël '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 Noël, 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 Noël 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 duc
     de Choiseul--Letter from madame de Grammont--Louis XV--The
     chancellor and the countess--Louis XV and the abbé de la
     Ville--The maréchale 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 _à propos_ 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
abbé de la Ville on the subject.

The abbé 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
abbé 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' abbé, can I depend upon your discretion?"

"Sire," replied the abbé, 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 abbé 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 _in
partibus_ of Tricomie. The good abbé 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
_negotiation_; 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 maréchale, 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 Vrillière, and
the abbé 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 maréchale, 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 maréchale 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--_Lettre de cachet _--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 _lettre de cachet_ 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 _lettres de cachet_ 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 Vrillière, 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."