It is one of the oldest of truisms that truth is stranger than
fiction. The present volume is but another striking example in
point. The legend of King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid palls
before the historic story of a certain Jeanne Poisson, an obscure
French girl who won a king's favor and wielded his sceptre for
twenty years. We do not hear anything further from the Beggar
Maid, after she became queen; but the famous Pompadour became
the most powerful figure of her day in all France, not excepting
the king himself.
These veritable _Memoirs_ of her reign are ascribed to her attendant,
Madame du Hausset, a woman of good family and, above all, of
good memory, who has here given us a faithful account of her
remarkable subject. Her opportunities for exact knowledge may
be gathered from her mistress's own words: "The king and I trust
you so completely that we look upon you as we might a cat or a
dog, and talk ahead with as much freedom as though you were not
there." And the critic, Sainte-Beuve, adds: "When the destiny of
a nation is in a woman's bedroom, the best place for the historian
is in the ante-chamber. Madame du Hausset seemed created for
this rôle of a Suetonius by her position and her character....
A good woman, furthermore, incapable of lying, and remaining
on the whole quite respectable."
After the death of Madame de Pompadour, the journal of this
waiting-woman fell into the hands of M. de Marigny, brother of
the favorite, with whom it remained in manuscript form for some
years. It was finally published, in 1802, ostensibly as "Drawn
from the Portfolio of the Maréchale D---- by Soulavie"; but the
French editors, MM. Vitrac and Galopin, assert that Soulavie
only lent his name to the work. They also call attention to the
fact that a _History of Madame de Pompadour_, by Mlle. Fouqué,
was published in London, as early as 1759. But no such general
history, or biography, could possibly have the intimate value of
a document written at the closest range of its subject. "These
_Memoirs_," say the French editors, "give a faithful portrait of
Madame de Pompadour.... They are clearly hostile, as are nearly
all documents preserved about her; for it was one of the evil
fortunes of Madame de Pompadour to be made known to us chiefly
through her enemies, D'Argenson, the Duc de Luynes, and Richelieu."
The above opinion sums up neatly the consensus of historical
opinion concerning this famous woman. She has, indeed, been in
the hands of her enemies, ever since the day of her death, in
1764. But this fact is not surprising. The mistress of a weak
monarch, she made use of her large influence over him to further
her own ends and appoint her own ministers to power. She was, in
fact, "the King." Michelet, the historian, asserts in so many words
that she "reigned twenty years," and he admits that "although of
mean birth, she had some patriotic ideas." However, leaving the
question of her political career aside, for the moment, the reader
will be interested to make the acquaintance of this remarkable
woman, herself. Who was she? What was the secret of her long
continued hold upon the King? Louis XV. was a notoriously fickle
monarch, whose many amours have become a part of history. But none
exercised the influence over him--and over all France, through
him--as did this person of "mean birth." Even her enemies have
had to admit her wonderful executive ability, in addition to
her womanly charms. These _Memoirs_, though rambling and without
strict sequence, answer our many questions interestingly. They
have been written, very evidently, by an inmate of the household.
They give, in addition, much of the secret history of the Court at
this important period, and point out, to the discerning reader,
a few of the chief causes which were to make possible the French
Revolution, at the century's close.
Madame de Pompadour's elevation to power was the result neither
of chance nor of romance. It was brought about by a carefully
laid plan, on the part of her parents and certain scheming
politicians, to make use of a beautiful girl to advance their
own interests. Jeanne Poisson was born in 1722, and at an early
age gave evidence of such unusual qualities, that her mother and
her guardian, M. Le Normant de Tournehem (who also is believed
to be her father), devoted their energies to making her worthy
of a place at court. She had a fine natural talent for music,
drawing, and engraving--some excellent examples of her work in
the latter field still being preserved--and she united with these
a rare physical beauty. M. Leroy, Keeper of the Park of Versailles,
thus describes her at the time of her meeting with the King: "She
was taller than the average, graceful, supple, and elegant. Her
features comported well with her stature, a perfect oval face,
framed by beautiful hair of a light shade, large eyes marked
by eyebrows of the same hue, a perfect nose, a charming mouth,
teeth of exceptional beauty displayed in a delicious smile, the
rarest of complexions," etc., etc. He continues his superlative
adjectives, indicating that the King was not the only susceptible
person in the Park, finally adding: "The features of the Marquise
were lighted by the play of infinite variety, but never could
one perceive any discordance. All was harmony and grace." Truly,
a worthy portrait of a famous beauty!
At the age of nineteen, Mlle. Poisson gave her hand to a kinsman
of her guardian, M. Le Normant d'Etoiles. The marriage seems
to have been the result of a sincere passion on his part, but
was looked upon merely as a matter of convenience by everybody
else; for not long thereafter we find her luring the King with
her "delicious smile," while he was hunting in the forest of
Senart; and in 1745 she was formally installed at Court, under
the title of the Marquise de Pompadour. This story, unadorned,
may sound paltry, even commercial, but we should not fall into
the error of judging it by twentieth century standards. The morals
of the French Court, never austere, were especially lax in the
reign of Louis XV., and _galanteries_ were the fashion, rather
than the exception; while for the post of King's favorite there
was a continual rivalry among high-born dames.
Once in this coveted position, the Marquise devoted her energies
to two things, and these she kept ever before her,--the pleasing
of her royal master, and the furthering of her party's interests.
How well she succeeded, this book shows. She entertained and
amused the King by elaborate pageants, in the various châteaux
which she built, or remodelled. Bellevue, Choisy, the Hermitage
at Versailles, Menars, La Celle, Montretout,--these are among
the monuments of her lavish career, and in these palaces she
accumulated costly art objects, such as the Saxe porcelains, the
Boulle marbles, and the sumptuous hangings and fittings which
have later been known as "Pompadour." Herself an artist and
connoisseur, she "set the pace" during a period of unbridled
luxury. She was patroness of the famous Sèvres ware. She drew
around her such painters and littérateurs as Bouchardon, Carle
Van Loo, Marmontel, Bernis, Crébillon, and Duclos. To her Voltaire
dedicated his _Tancrède_.
This was her brilliant side; but upon the deplorable side must
be reckoned her extravagance and her meddling in statecraft.
Ambitious for power, she surrounded the doting monarch with her
"creatures"--Rouillé, Saint Florentin, Puisieux, Machault. With the
exception of the Duc de Choiseul, her appointees were notoriously
weak--and this at a time when the War of the Austrian Succession
and the Seven Years' War called for strong government. Won over
by the cajoleries of Maria Theresa, who called her "cousin," she
induced the King to accept the Austrian Alliance; and again,
in 1758, despite Bernis and other ministers, she prevailed upon
him to maintain it throughout the disastrous war which was only
ended by the Treaty of Paris. In addition to this, she became
embroiled with the Church party, being especially bitter against
the Jesuits. It is no wonder, therefore, that she left her memory
in the hands of her enemies. It is no wonder that the seeds of
her folly and extravagance, as well as those of her successor, Du
Barry, resulted in the bloody harvest of the Revolution. "Après
nous le déluge!" ("After us the deluge") was her sinister motto, now
famous in history, and it carried with it the weight of prophecy.
To the end she remained, exteriorally, in full power. In 1752
the Marquise was made Duchesse de Pompadour; and four years later
"Dame d'Honneur" to the Queen, a title of charmingly unconscious
irony! The day of her demise (1764) was stormy, and the King is
said to have been genuinely grieved over the loss, remarking:
"Madame la Marquise has ill weather for her journey."
But to the last she herself was charming, débonnaire, masterful.
She had smiled her way into power, and she smiled even in the
face of death. "She felt it a duty to maintain to the end the
pose of elegance which she had established for herself," say
her French critics. "For the last time she applied the touch
of rouge to her cheeks, by which she had hidden, for several
years, the slow ravages of decay; set her lips in a final smile;
and with the air of a coquette uttered to the priest, who extended
to her the last rites of religion, this laughing quip (mot
d'élégance): "Attendez-moi, monsieur le curé, nous partirons
ensemble" ("Wait a moment, monsieur, and we will set forth
together").