Produced by David Widger
MEMOIRS OF LOUIS XV. AND XVI.
Being Secret Memoirs of Madame du Hausset,
Lady's Maid to Madame de Pompadour,
and of an unknown English Girl
and the Princess Lamballe
BOOK 2.
Madame sent for me yesterday evening, at seven o'clock, to read something
to her; the ladies who were intimate with her were at Paris, and M. de
Gontaut ill. "The King," said she, "will stay late at the Council this
evening; they are occupied with the affairs of the Parliament again." She
bade me leave off reading, and I was going to quit the room, but she
called out, "Stop." She rose; a letter was brought in for her, and she
took it with an air of impatience and ill-humour. After a considerable
time she began to talk openly, which only happened when she was extremely
vexed; and, as none of her confidential friends were at hand, she said to
me, "This is from my brother. It is what he would not have dared to say
to me, so he writes. I had arranged a marriage for him with the daughter
of a man of title; he appeared to be well inclined to it, and I,
therefore, pledged my word. He now tells me that he has made inquiries;
that the parents are people of insupportable hauteur; that the daughter
is very badly educated; and that he knows, from authority not to be
doubted, that when she heard this marriage discussed, she spoke of the
connection with the most supreme contempt; that he is certain of this
fact; and that I was still more contemptuously spoken of than himself. In
a word, he begs me to break off the treaty. But he has let me go too
far; and now he will make these people my irreconcilable enemies. This
has been put in his head by some of his flatterers; they do not wish him
to change his way of living; and very few of them would be received by
his wife." I tried to soften Madame, and, though I did not venture to
tell her so, I thought her brother right. She persisted in saying these
were lies, and, on the following Sunday, treated her brother very coldly.
He said nothing to me at that time; if he had, he would have embarrassed
me greatly. Madame atoned for everything by procuring favours, which
were the means of facilitating the young lady's marriage with a gentleman
of the Court. Her conduct, two months after marriage, compelled Madame
to confess that her brother had been perfectly right.
I saw my friend, Madame du Chiron. "Why," said she, "is the Marquise so
violent an enemy to the Jesuits? I assure you she is wrong. All
powerful as she is, she may find herself the worse for their enmity." I
replied that I knew nothing about the matter. "It is, however,
unquestionably a fact; and she does not feel that a word more or less
might decide her fate."--"How do you mean?" said I. "Well, I will
explain myself fully," said she. "You know what took place at the time
the King was stabbed: an attempt was made to get her out of the Castle
instantly. The Jesuits have no other object than the salvation of their
penitents; but they are men, and hatred may, without their being aware of
it, influence their minds, and inspire them with a greater degree of
severity than circumstances absolutely demand. Favour and partiality
may, on the other hand, induce the confessor to make great concessions;
and the shortest interval may suffice to save a favourite, especially if
any decent pretext can be found for prolonging her stay at Court." I
agreed with her in all she said, but I told her that I dared not touch
that string. On reflecting on this conversation afterwards, I was
forcibly struck with this fresh proof of the intrigues of the Jesuits,
which, indeed, I knew well already. I thought that, in spite of what I
had replied to Madame du Chiron, I ought to communicate this to Madame de
Pompadour, for the ease of my conscience; but that I would abstain from
making any reflection upon it. "Your friend, Madame du Chiron," said
she, "is, I perceive, affiliated to the Jesuits, and what she says does
not originate with herself. She is commissioned by some reverend father,
and I will know by whom." Spies were, accordingly, set to watch her
movements, and they discovered that one Father de Saci, and, still more
particularly, one Father Frey, guided this lady's conduct. "What a
pity," said Madame to me, "that the Abbe Chauvelin cannot know this." He
was the most formidable enemy of the reverend fathers. Madame du Chiron
always looked upon me as a Jansenist, because I would not espouse the
interests of the good fathers with as much warmth as she did.
Madame is completely absorbed in the Abbe de Bernis, whom she thinks
capable of anything; she talks of him incessantly. Apropos, of this
Abbe, I must relate an anecdote, which almost makes one believe in
conjurors. A year, or fifteen months, before her disgrace, Madame de
Pompadour, being at Fontainebleau, sat down to write at a desk, over
which hung a portrait of the King. While she was, shutting the desk,
after she had finished writing, the picture fell, and struck her
violently on the head.. The persons who saw the accident were alarmed,
and sent for Dr. Quesnay. He asked the circumstances of the case, and
ordered bleeding and anodynes. Just, as she had been bled, Madame de
Brancas entered, and saw us all in confusion and agitation, and Madame
lying on her chaise-longue. She asked what was the matter, and was told.
After having expressed her regret, and having consoled her, she said, "I
ask it as a favour of Madame, and of the King (who had just come in),
that they will instantly send a courier to the Abbe de Bernis, and that
the Marquise will have the goodness to write a letter, merely requesting
him to inform her what his fortune-tellers told him, and to withhold
nothing from the fear of making her uneasy." The thing was, done as she
desired, and she then told us that La Bontemps had predicted, from the
dregs in the, coffee-cup, in which she read everything, that the, head of
her best friend was in danger, but that no fatal consequences would
ensue.
The next day, the Abbe wrote word that Madame Bontemps also said to him,
"You came into the world almost black," and that this was the fact. This
colour, which lasted for some time, was attributed to a picture which
hung at the foot of his, mother's bed, and which she often looked at. It
represented a Moor bringing to Cleopatra a basket of flowers, containing
the asp by whose bite she destroyed herself. He said that she also told
him, "You have a great deal of money about you, but it does not belong to
you;" and that he had actually in his pocket two hundred Louis for the
Duc de La Valliere. Lastly, he informed us that she said, looking in the
cup, "I see one of your friends--the best--a distinguished lady,
threatened with an accident;" that he confessed that, in spite of all his
philosophy, he turned pale; that she remarked this, looked again into the
cup, and continued, "Her head will be slightly in danger, but of this no
appearance will remain half an hour afterwards." It was impossible to
doubt the facts. They appeared so surprising to the King, that he
desired some inquiry to be made concerning the fortune-teller. Madame,
however, protected her from the pursuit of the Police.
A man, who was quite as astonishing as this fortune-teller, often visited
Madame de Pompadour. This was the Comte de St. Germain, who wished to
have it believed that he had lived several centuries.
[St. Germain was an adept--a worthy predecessor of Cagliostro, who
expected to live five hundred years. The Count de St. Germain pretended
to have already lived two thousand, and, according to him, the account
was still running. He went so far as to claim the power of transmitting
the gift of long life. One day, calling upon his servant to, bear
witness to a fact that went pretty far back, the man replied, "I have no
recollection of it, sir; you forget that I have only had the honour of
serving you for five hundred years."
St. Germain, like all other charlatans of this sort, assumed a theatrical
magnificence, and an air of science calculated to deceive the vulgar.
His best instrument of deception was the phantasmagoria; and as, by means
of this abuse of the science of optics, he called up shades which were
asked for, and almost always recognised, his correspondence with the
other world was a thing proved by the concurrent testimony of numerous
witnesses.
He played the same game in London, Venice, and Holland, but he constantly
regretted Paris, where his miracles were never questioned.
St. Germain passed his latter days at the Court of the Prince of Hesse
Cassel, and died at Plewig, in 1784, in the midst of his enthusiastic
disciples, and to their infinite astonishment at his sharing the common
destiny.]
One day, at her toilet, Madame said to him, in my presence, "What was the
personal appearance of Francis I.? He was a King I should have
liked."--"He was, indeed, very captivating," said St. Germain; and he
proceeded to describe his face and person as one does that of a man one
has accurately observed. "It is a pity he was too ardent. I could have
given him some good advice, which would have saved him from all his
misfortunes; but he would not have followed it; for it seems as if a
fatality attended Princes, forcing them to shut their ears, those of the
mind, at least, to the best advice, and especially in the most critical
moments."--"And the Constable," said Madame, "what do you say of
him?"--"I cannot say much good or much harm of him," replied he. "Was
the Court of Francis I. very brilliant?"--"Very brilliant; but those of
his grandsons infinitely surpassed it. In the time of Mary Stuart and
Margaret of Valois it was a land of enchantment--a temple, sacred to
pleasures of every kind; those of the mind were not neglected. The two
Queens were learned, wrote verses, and spoke with captivating grace and
eloquence." Madame said, laughing, "You seem to have seen all this."--"I
have an excellent memory," said he, "and have read the history of France
with great care. I sometimes amuse myself, not by making, but by letting
it be believed that I lived in old times."--"You do not tell me your age,
however, and you give yourself out for very old. The Comtesse de Gergy,
who was Ambassadress to Venice, I think, fifty years ago, says she knew
you there exactly what you are now."--"It is true, Madame, that I have
known Madame de Gergy a long time."--"But, according to what she says,
you would be more than a hundred"--"That is not impossible," said he,
laughing; "but it is, I allow, still more possible that Madame de Gergy,
for whom I have the greatest respect, may be in her dotage."--"You have
given her an elixir, the effect of which is surprising. She declares that
for a long time she has felt as if she was only four-and-twenty years of
age; why don't you give some to the King?"--"Ah! Madame," said he, with a
sort of terror, "I must be mad to think of giving the King an unknown
drug." I went into my room to write down this conversation. Some days
afterwards, the King, Madame de Pompadour, some Lords of the Court, and
the Comte de St. Germain, were talking about his secret for causing the
spots in diamonds to disappear. The King ordered a diamond of middling
size, which had a spot, to be brought. It was weighed; and the King said
to the Count, "It is valued at two hundred and forty louis; but it would
be worth four hundred if it had no spot. Will you try to put a hundred
and sixty louis into my pocket?" He examined it carefully, and said, "It
may be done; and I will bring it you again in a month." At the time
appointed, the Count brought back the diamond without a spot, and gave it
to the King. It was wrapped in a cloth of amianthus, which he took off.
The King had it weighed, and found it but very little diminished. The
King sent it to his jeweller by M. de Gontaut, without telling him
anything of what had passed. The jeweller gave three hundred and eighty
louis for it. The King, however, sent for it back again, and kept it as
a curiosity. He could not overcome his surprise, and said that M. de St.
Germain must be worth millions, especially if he had also the secret of
making large diamonds out of a number of small ones. He neither said
that he had, nor that he had not; but he positively asserted that he
could make pearls grow, and give them the finest water. The King, paid
him great attention, and so did Madame de Pompadour. It was from her I
learnt what I have just related. M. Queanay said, talking of the pearls,
"They are produced by a disease in the oyster. It is possible to know
the cause of it; but, be that as it may, he is not the less a quack,
since he pretends to have the elixir vitae, and to have lived several
centuries. Our master is, however, infatuated by him, and sometimes
talks of him as if his descent were illustrious."
I have seen him frequently: he appeared to be about fifty; he was neither
fat nor thin; he had an acute, intelligent look, dressed very simply, but
in good taste; he wore very fine diamonds in his rings, watch, and
snuff-box. He came, one day, to visit Madame de Pompadour, at a time
when the Court was in full splendour, with knee and shoe-buckles of
diamonds so fine and brilliant that Madame said she did not believe the
King had any equal to them. He went into the antechamber to take them
off, and brought them to be examined; they were compared with others in
the room, and the Duc de Gontaut, who was present, said they were worth
at least eight thousand louis. He wore, at the same time, a snuff-box of
inestimable value, and ruby sleeve-buttons, which were perfectly
dazzling. Nobody could find out by what means this man became so rich
and so remarkable; but the King would not suffer him to be spoken of with
ridicule or contempt. He was said to be a bastard son of the King of
Portugal.
I learnt, from M. de Marigny, that the relations of the good little
Marechale (de Mirepoix) had been extremely severe upon her, for what they
called the baseness of her conduct, with regard to Madame de Pompadour.
They said she held the stones of the cherries which Madame ate in her
carriage, in her beautiful little hands, and that she sate in the front
of the carriage, while Madame occupied the whole seat in the inside. The
truth was, that, in going to Crecy, on an insupportably hot day, they
both wished to sit alone, that they might be cooler; and as to the matter
of the cherries, the villagers having brought them some, they ate them to
refresh themselves, while the horses were changed; and the Marechal
emptied her pocket-handkerchief, into which they had both thrown the
cherry-stones, out of the carriage window. The people who were changing
the horses had given their own version of the affair.
I had, as you know, a very pretty room at Madame's hotel, whither I
generally went privately. I had, one day, had visits from two or three
Paris representatives, who told me news; and Madame, having sent for me,
I went to her, and found her with M. de Gontaut. I could not help
instantly saying to her, "You must be much pleased, Madame, at the noble
action of the Marquis de ------." Madame replied, drily, "Hold your
tongue, and listen to what I have to say to you." I returned to my
little room, where I found the Comtesse d'Amblimont, to whom I mentioned
Madame's reception of me. "I know what is the matter," said she; "it has
no relation to you. I will explain it to you. The Marquis de -------has
told all Paris, that, some days ago, going home at night, alone, and on
foot, he heard cries in a street called Ferou, which is dark, and, in
great part, arched over; that he drew his sword, and went down the
street, in which he saw, by the light of a lamp, a very handsome woman,
to whom some ruffians were offering violence; that he approached, and
that the woman cried out, 'Save me! save me!' that he rushed upon the
wretches, two of whom fought him, sword in hand, whilst a third held the
woman, and tried to stop her mouth; that he wounded one in the arm; and
that the ruffians, hearing people pass at the end of the street, and
fearing they might come to his assistance, fled; that he went up to the
lady, who told him that they were not robbers, but villains, one of whom
was desperately in love with her; and that the lady knew not how to
express her gratitude; that she had begged him not to follow her, after
he had conducted her to a fiacre; that she would not tell him her name,
but that she insisted on his accepting a little ring, as a token of
remembrance; and that she promised to see him again, and to tell him her
whole history, if he gave her his address; that he complied with this
request of the lady, whom he represented as a charming person, and who,
in the overflowing of her gratitude, embraced him several times. This is
all very fine, so far," said Madame d'Amblimont, "but hear the rest. The
Marquis de exhibited himself everywhere the next day, with a black ribbon
bound round his arm, near the wrist, in which part he said he had
received a wound. He related his story to everybody, and everybody
commented upon it after his own fashion. He went to dine with the
Dauphin, who spoke to him of his bravery, and of his fair unknown, and
told him that he had already complimented the Duc de C---- on the affair.
I forgot to tell you," continued Madame d'Amblimont, "that, on the very
night of the adventure, he called on Madame d'Estillac, an old gambler,
whose house is open till four in the morning; that everybody there was
surprised at the disordered state in which he appeared; that his bagwig
had fallen off, one skirt of his coat was cut, and his right hand
bleeding. That they instantly bound it up, and gave him some Rota wine.
Four days ago, the Duc de C---- supped with the King, and sat near M. de
St. Florentin. He talked to him of his relation's adventure, and asked
him if he had made any inquiries concerning the lady. M. de St.
Florentin coldly answered, 'No!' and M. de C---- remarked, on asking him
some further questions, that he kept his eyes firmed on his plate,
looking embarrassed, and answered in monosyllables. He asked him the
reason of this, upon which M. de Florentin told him that it was extremely
distressing to him to see him under such a mistake. 'How can you know
that, supposing it to be the fact?' said M. de ------, 'Nothing is more
easy to prove,' replied M. de St. Florentin. 'You may imagine that, as
soon as I was informed of the Marquis de ------'s adventure, I set on
foot inquiries, the result of which was, that, on the night when this
affair was said to have taken place, a party of the watch was set in
ambuscade in this very street, for the purpose of catching a thief who
was coming out of the gaming house; that this party was there four hours,
and heard not the slightest noise.' M. de C was greatly incensed at this
recital, which M. de St. Florentin ought, indeed, to have communicated to
the King. He has ordered, or will order, his relation to retire to his
province.
"After this, you will judge, my dear, whether you were very likely to be
graciously received when you went open-mouthed with your compliment to
the Marquise. This adventure," continued she, "reminded the King of one
which occurred about fifteen years ago. The Comte d'E----, who was what
is called 'enfant d'honneur' to the Dauphin, and about fourteen years of
age, came into the Dauphin's apartments, one evening, with his bag-wig
snatched off, and his ruffles torn, and said that, having walked rather
late near the piece of water des Suisses, he had been attacked by two
robbers; that he had refused to give them anything, drawn his sword, and
put himself in an attitude of defence; that one of the robbers was armed
with a sword, the other with a large stick, from which he had received
several blows, but that he had wounded one in the arm, and that, hearing
a noise at that moment, they had fled. But unluckily for the little
Count, it was known that people were on the spot at the precise time he
mentioned, and had heard nothing. The Count was pardoned, on account of
his youth. The Dauphin made him confess the truth, and it was looked
upon as a childish freak to set people talking about him."
The King disliked the King of Prussia because he knew that the latter was
in the habit of jesting upon his mistress, and the kind of life he led.
It was Frederick's fault, as I have heard it said, that the King was not
his most steadfast ally and friend, as much as sovereigns can be towards
each other; but the jestings of Frederick had stung him, and made him
conclude the treaty of Versailles. One day, he entered Madame's
apartment with a paper in his hand, and said, "The King of Prussia is
certainly a great man; he loves men of talent, and, like Louis XIV., he
wishes to make Europe ring with his favours towards foreign savans. There
is a letter from him, addressed to Milord Marshal,
[George Keith, better known under the name of Milord Marshal, was the
eldest son of William Keith, Earl Marshal of Scotland. He was an avowed
partisan of the Stuarts, and did not lay down the arms he had taken up in
their cause until it became utterly desperate, and drew upon its
defenders useless dangers. When they were driven from their country, he
renounced it, and took up his residence successively in France, Prussia,
Spain, and Italy. The delicious country and climate of Valencia he
preferred above any other.
Milord Marshal died in the month of May, 1778. It was he who said to
Madame Geoffrin, speaking of his brother, who was field-marshal in the
Prussian service, and died on the field of honour, "My brother leaves me
the most glorious inheritance" (he had just laid the whole of Bohemia
under contribution); "his property does not amount to seventy ducats." A
eulogium on Milord Marshal, by D'Alembert, is extant. It is the most
cruelly mangled of all his works, by Linguet]
ordering him to acquaint a 'superieur' man of my kingdom (D'Alembert)
that he has granted him a "pension;" and, looking at the letter, he read
the following words: "You must know that there is in Paris a man of the
greatest merit, whose fortune is not proportionate to his talents and
character. I may serve as eyes to the blind goddess, and repair in some
measure the injustice, and I beg you to offer on that account. I flatter
myself that he will accept this pension because of the pleasure I shall
feel in obliging a man who joins beauty of character to the most sublime
intellectual talents." The King here stopped, on seeing MM. de Ayen and
de Gontaut enter, and then recommenced reading the letter to them, and
added, "It was given me by the Minister for Foreign Affairs, to whom it
was confided by Milord Marshal, for the purpose of obtaining my
permission for this sublime genius to accept the favour. But," said the
King, "what do you think is the amount?" Some said six, eight, ten
thousand livres. "You have not guessed," said the King; "it is twelve
hundred livres."--"For sublime talents," said the Duc d'Ayen, "it is not
much. But the philosophers will make Europe resound with this letter,
and the King of Prussia will have the pleasure of making a great noise at
little expense."
The Chevalier de Courten,--[The Chevalier de Courten was a Swiss, and a
man of talent.]--who had been in Prussia, came in, and, hearing this
story told, said, "I have seen what is much better than that: passing
through a village in Prussia, I got out at the posthouse, while I was
waiting for horses; and the postmaster, who was a captain in the Prussian
service, showed me several letters in Frederick's handwriting, addressed
to his uncle, who was a man of rank, promising him to provide for his
nephews; the provision he made for this, the eldest of these nephews, who
was dreadfully wounded, was the postmastership which he then held." M.
de Marigny related this story at Quesnay's, and added, that the man of
genius above mentioned was D'Alembert, and that the King had permitted
him to accept the pension. He added, that his sister had suggested to
the King that he had better give D'Alembert a pension of twice the value,
and forbid him to take the King of Prussia's. This advice he would not
take, because he looked upon D'Alembert as an infidel. M. de Marigny
took a copy of the letter, which he lent me.
A certain nobleman, at one time, affected to cast tender glances on
Madame Adelaide. She was wholly unconscious of it; but, as there are
Arguses at Court, the King was, of course, told of it, and, indeed, he
thought he had perceived it himself. I know that he came into Madame de
Pompadour's room one day, in a great passion, and said, "Would you
believe that there is a man in my Court insolent enough to dare to raise
his eyes to one of my daughters?" Madame had never seen him so
exasperated, and this illustrious nobleman was advised to feign a
necessity for visiting his estates. He remained there two months. Madame
told me, long after, that she thought that there were no tortures to
which the King would not have condemned any man who had seduced one of
his daughters. Madame Adelaide, at the time in question, was a charming
person, and united infinite grace, and much talent, to a most agreeable
face.
A courier brought Madame de Pompadour a letter, on reading which she
burst into tears. It contained the intelligence of the battle of
Rosbach, which M. de Soubise sent her, with all the details. I heard her
say to the Marechal de Belle-Isle, wiping her eyes, "M. de Soubise is
inconsolable; he does not try to excuse his conduct, he sees nothing but
the disastrous fortune which pursues him."--"M. de Soubise must, however,
have many things to urge in his own behalf," said M. de Belle-Isle, "and
so I told the King."--"It is very noble in you, Marshal, not to suffer an
unfortunate man to be overwhelmed; the public are furious against him,
and what has he done to deserve it?"--"There is not a more honourable nor
a kinder man in the world. I only fulfil my duty in doing justice to the
truth, and to a man for whom I have the most profound esteem. The King
will explain to you, Madame, how M. de Soubise was forced to give battle
by the Prince of Sage-Hildbourgshausen, whose troops fled first, and
carried along the French troops." Madame would have embraced the old
Marshal if she had dared, she was so delighted with him.
M. de Soubise, having gained a battle, was made Marshal of France: Madame
was enchanted with her friend's success. But, either it was unimportant,
or the public were offended at his promotion; nobody talked of it but
Madame's friends. This unpopularity was concealed from her, and she said
to Colin, her steward, at her toilet, "Are you not delighted at the
victory M. de Soubise has gained? What does the public say of it? He
has taken his revenge well." Colin was embarrassed, and knew not what to
answer. As she pressed him further, he replied that he had been ill, and
had seen nobody for a week.
M. de Marigny came to see me one day, very much out of humour. I asked
him the cause. "I have," said he, "just been intreating my sister not to
make M. le Normand-de-Mezi Minister of the Marine. I told her that she
was heaping coals of fire upon her own head. A favourite ought not to
multiply the points of attack upon herself." The Doctor entered. "You,"
said the Doctor, "are worth your weight in gold, for the good sense and
capacity you have shewn in your office, and for your moderation, but you
will never be appreciated as you deserve; your advice is excellent; there
will never be a ship taken but Madame will be held responsible for it to
the public, and you are very wise not to think of being in the Ministry
yourself."
One day, when I was at Paris, I went to dine with the Doctor, who
happened to be there at the same time; there were, contrary to his usual
custom, a good many people, and, among others, a handsome young Master of
the Requests, who took a title from some place, the name of which I have
forgotten, but who was a son of M. Turgot, the 'prevot des marchands'.
They talked a great deal about administration, which was not very amusing
to me; they then fell upon the subject of the love Frenchmen bear to
their Kings. M. Turgot here joined in the conversation, and said, "This
is not a blind attachment; it is a deeply rooted sentiment, arising from
an indistinct recollection of great benefits. The French nation--I may
go farther--Europe, and all mankind, owe to a King of France" (I have
forgotten his name)--[Phillip the Long]--"whatever liberty they enjoy. He
established communes, and conferred on an immense number of men a civil
existence. I am aware that it may be said, with justice, that he served
his own interests by granting these franchises; that the cities paid him
taxes, and that his design was to use them as instruments of weakening
the power of great nobles; but what does that prove, but that this
measure was at once useful, politic, and humane?" From Kings in general
the conversation turned upon Louis XV., and M. Turgot remarked that his
reign would be always celebrated for the advancement of the sciences, the
progress of knowledge, and of philosophy. He added that Louis XV. was
deficient in the quality which Louis XIV. possessed to excess; that is
to say, in a good opinion of himself; that he was well-informed; that
nobody was more perfectly master of the topography of France; that his
opinion in the Council was always the most judicious; and that it was
much to be lamented that he had not more confidence in himself, or that
he did not rely upon some Minister who enjoyed the confidence of the
nation. Everybody agreed with him. I begged M. Quesnay to write down
what young Turgot had said, and showed it to Madame. She praised this
Master of the Requests greatly, and spoke of him to the King. "It is a
good breed," said he.
One day, I went out to walk, and saw, on my return, a great many people
going and coming, and speaking to each other privately: it was evident
that something extraordinary had happened. I asked a person of my
acquaintance what was the matter. "Alas!" said he, with tears in his
eyes, "some assassins, who had formed the project of murdering the King,
have inflicted several wounds on a garde-du-corps, who overheard them in
a dark corridor; he is carried to the hospital: and as he has described
the colour of these men's coats, the Police are in quest of them in all
directions, and some people, dressed in clothes of that colour, are
already arrested." I saw Madame with M. de Gontaut, and I hastened home.
She found her door besieged by a multitude of people, and was alarmed:
when she got in, she found the Comte de Noailles. "What is all this,
Count?" said she. He said he was come expressly to speak to her, and
they retired to her closet together. The conference was not long. I had
remained in the drawing-room, with Madame's equerry, the Chevalier de
Solent, Gourbillon, her valet de chambre, and some strangers. A great
many details were related; but, the wounds being little more than
scratches, and the garde-du-corps having let fall some contradictions, it
was thought that he was an impostor, who had invented all this story to
bring himself into favour. Before the night was over, this was proved to
be the fact, and, I believe, from his own confession. The King came,
that evening, to see Madame de Pompadour; he spoke of this occurrence
with great sang froid, and said, "The gentleman who wanted to kill me was
a wicked madman; this is a low scoundrel."
When he spoke of Damiens, which was only while his trial lasted, he never
called him anything but that gentleman.
I have heard it said that he proposed having him shut up in a dungeon for
life; but that the horrible nature of the crime made the judges insist
upon his suffering all the tortures inflicted upon like occasions. Great
numbers, many of them women, had a barbarous curiosity to witness the
execution; amongst others, Madame de P------, a very beautiful woman, and
the wife of a Farmer General. She hired two places at a window for
twelve Louis, and played a game of cards in the room whilst waiting for
the execution to begin. On this being told to the King, he covered his
eyes with his hands and exclaimed, "Fi, la Vilaine!" I have been told
that she, and others, thought to pay their court in this way, and
signalise their attachment to the King's person.
Two things were related to me by M. Duclos at the time of the attempt on
the King's life.
The first, relative to the Comte de Sponheim, who was the Duc de
Deux-Ponts, and next in succession to the Palatinate and Electorate of
Bavaria. He was thought to be a great friend to the King, and had made
several long sojourns in France. He came frequently to see Madame. M.
Duclos told us that the Duc de Deux-Ponts, having learned, at Deux-Ponts,
the attempt on the King's life, immediately set out in a carriage for
Versailles: "But remark," said he, "the spirit of 'courtisanerie' of a
Prince, who may be Elector of Bavaria and the Palatinate tomorrow. This
was not enough. When he arrived within ten leagues of Paris, he put on
an enormous pair of jack-boots, mounted a post-horse, and arrived in the
court of the palace cracking his whip. If this had been real impatience,
and not charlatanism, he would have taken horse twenty leagues from
Paris."--"I don't agree with you," said a gentleman whom I did not know;
"impatience sometimes seizes one towards the end of an undertaking, and
one employs the readiest means then in one's power. Besides, the Duc de
Deux-Ponts might wish, by showing himself thus on horseback, to serve the
King, to whom he is attached, by proving to Frenchmen how greatly he is
beloved and honoured in other countries." Duclos resumed: "Well," said
he, "do you know the story of M. de C-----? The first day the King saw
company, after the attempt of Damiens, M. de C----- pushed so vigorously
through the crowd that he was one of the first to come into the King's
presence, but he had on so shabby a black coat that it caught the King's
attention, who burst out laughing, and said, 'Look at C-----, he has had
the skirt of his coat torn off.' M. de C----- looked as if he was only
then first conscious of his loss, and said, 'Sire, there is such a
multitude hurrying to see Your Majesty, that I was obliged to fight my
way through them, and, in the effort, my coat has been
torn.'--'Fortunately it was not worth much,' said the Marquis de Souvre,
'and you could not have chosen a worse one to sacrifice on the
occasion.'"
Madame de Pompadour had been very judiciously advised to get her husband,
M. le Normand, sent to Constantinople, as Ambassador. This would have a
little diminished the scandal caused by seeing Madame de Pompadour, with
the title of Marquise, at Court, and her husband Farmer General at Paris.
But he was so attached to a Paris life, and to his opera habits, that he
could not be prevailed upon to go. Madame employed a certain M.
d'Arboulin, with whom she had been acquainted before she was at Court, to
negotiate this affair. He applied to a Mademoiselle Rem, who had been an
opera-dancer, and who was M. le Normand's mistress. She made him very
fine promises; but she was like him, and preferred a Paris life. She
would do nothing in it.
At the time that plays were acted in the little apartments, I obtained a
lieutenancy for one of my relations, by a singular means, which proves
the value the greatest people set upon the slightest access to the Court.
Madame did not like to ask anything of M. d'Argenson, and, being pressed
by my family, who could not imagine that, situated as I was, it could be
difficult for me to obtain a command for a good soldier, I determined to
go and ask the Comte d'Argenson. I made my request, and presented my
memorial. He received me coldly, and gave me vague answers. I went out,
and the Marquis de V-----, who was in his closet, followed me. "You wish
to obtain a command," said he; "there is one vacant, which is promised me
for one of my proteges; but if you will do me a favour in return, or
obtain one for me, I will give it to you. I want to be a police officer,
and you have it in your power to get me a place." I told him I did not
understand the purport of his jest. "I will tell you," said he;
"Tartuffe is going to be acted in the cabinets, and there is the part of
a police officer, which only consists of a few lines. Prevail upon
Madame de Pompadour to assign me that part, and the command is yours." I
promised nothing, but I related the history to Madame, who said she would
arrange it for me. The thing was done, and I obtained the command, and
the Marquis de V----- thanked Madame as if she had made him a Duke.
The King was often annoyed by the Parliaments, and said a very remarkable
thing concerning them, which M. de Gontaut repeated to Doctor Quesnay in
my presence. "Yesterday," said he, "the King walked up and down the room
with an anxious air. Madame de Pompadour asked him if he was uneasy
about his health, as he had been, for some time, rather unwell. 'No,'
replied he; 'but I am greatly annoyed by all these remonstrances.'--'What
can come of them,' said she, 'that need seriously disquiet Your Majesty?
Are you not master of the Parliaments, as well as of all the rest of the
kingdom?'--'That is true,' said the King; 'but, if it had not been for
these counsellors and presidents, I should never have been stabbed by
that gentleman' (he always called Damiens so). 'Ah! Sire,' cried Madame
de Pompadour. 'Read the trial,' said he. 'It was the language of those
gentlemen he names which turned his head.'--'But,' said Madame, 'I have
often thought that, if the Archbishop--[M. de Beaumont]--could be sent to
Rome--'--'Find anybody who will accomplish that business, and I will give
him whatever he pleases.'" Quesnay said the King was right in all he had
uttered. The Archbishop was exiled shortly after, and the King was
seriously afflicted at being driven to take such a step. "What a pity,"
he often said, "that so excellent a man should be so obstinate."--"And so
shallow," said somebody, one day. "Hold your tongue," replied the King,
somewhat sternly. The Archbishop was very charitable, and liberal to
excess, but he often granted pensions without discernment.
[The following is a specimen of the advantages taken of his natural
kindness. Madame la Caille, who acted the Duennas at the Opera Comique,
was recommended to him as the mother of a family, who deserved his
protection, The worthy prelate asked what he could do for her.
Monseigneur," said the actress, "two words from your hand to the Duc de
Richelieu would induce him to grant me a demi-part." M. de Beaumont, who
was very little acquainted with the language of the theatre, thought that
a demi-part meant a more liberal portion of the Marshal's alms, and the
note was written in the most pressing manner. The Marshal answered, that
he thanked the Archbishop for the interest he took in the Theatre
Italien, and in Madame la Caille, who was a very useful person at that
theatre; that, nevertheless, she had a bad voice; but that the
recommendation of the Archbishop was to be preferred to the greatest
talents, and that the demi-part was granted."]
He granted one of an hundred louis to a pretty woman, who was very poor,
and who assumed an illustrious name, to which she had no right. The fear
lest she should be plunged into vice led him to bestow such excessive
bounty upon her; and the woman was an admirable dissembler. She went to
the Archbishop's, covered with a great hood, and, when she left him, she
amused herself with a variety of lovers.
Great people have the bad habit of talking very indiscreetly before their
servants. M. de Gontaut once said these words, covertly, as he thought,
to the Duc de ------, "That measures had been taken which would,
probably, have the effect of determining the Archbishop to go to Rome,
with a Cardinal's hat; and that, if he desired it, he was to have a
coadjutor."
A very plausible pretext had been found for making this proposition, and
for rendering it flattering to the Archbishop, and agreeable to his
sentiments. The affair had been very adroitly begun, and success
appeared certain. The King had the air, towards the Archbishop, of
entire unconsciousness of what was going on. The negotiator acted as if
he were only following the suggestions of his own mind, for the general
good. He was a friend of the Archbishop, and was very sure of a liberal
reward. A valet of the Duc de Gontaut, a very handsome young fellow, had
perfectly caught the sense of what was spoken in a mysterious manner. He
was one of the lovers of the lady of the hundred Louis a year, and had
heard her talk of the Archbishop, whose relation she pretended to be. He
thought he should secure her good graces by informing her that great
efforts were being made to induce her patron to reside at Rome, with a
view to get him away from Paris. The lady instantly told the Archbishop,
as she was afraid of losing her pension if he went. The information
squared so well with the negotiation then on foot, that the Archbishop
had no doubt of its truth. He cooled, by degrees, in his conversations
with the negotiator, whom he regarded as a traitor, and ended by breaking
with him. These details were not known till long afterwards. The lover
of the lady having been sent to the Bicetre, some letters were found
among his papers, which gave a scent of the affair, and he was made to
confess the rest.
In order not to compromise the Duc de Gontaut, the King was told that the
valet had come to a knowledge of the business from a letter which he had
found in his master's clothes. The King took his revenge by humiliating
the Archbishop, which he was enabled to do by means of the information he
had obtained concerning the conduct of the lady, his protege. She was
found guilty of swindling, in concert with her beloved valet; but, before
her punishment was inflicted, the Lieutenant of Police was ordered to lay
before Monseigneur a full account of the conduct of his relation and
pensioner. The Archbishop had nothing to object to in the proofs which
were submitted to him; he said, with perfect calmness, that she was not
his relation; and, raising his hands to heaven, "She is an unhappy
wretch," said he, "who has robbed me of the money which was destined for
the poor. But God knows that, in giving her so large a pension, I did
not act lightly. I had, at that time, before my eyes the example of a
young woman who once asked me to grant her seventy louis a year,
promising me that she would always live very virtuously, as she had
hitherto done. I refused her, and she said, on leaving me, 'I must turn
to the left, Monseigneur, since the way on the right is closed against
me: The unhappy creature has kept her word but too well. She found means
of establishing a faro-table at her house, which is tolerated; and she
joins to the most profligate conduct in her own person the infamous trade
of a corrupter of youth; her house is the abode of every vice. Think,
sir, after that, whether it was not an act of prudence, on my part, to
grant the woman in question a pension, suitable to the rank in which I
thought her born, to prevent her abusing the gifts of youth, beauty, and
talents, which she possessed, to her own perdition, and the destruction
of others." The Lieutenant of Police told the King that he was touched
with the candour and the noble simplicity of the prelate. "I never
doubted his virtues," replied the King, "but I wish he would be quiet."
This same Archbishop gave a pension of fifty louis a year to the greatest
scoundrel in Paris. He is a poet, who writes abominable verses; this
pension is granted on condition that his poems are never printed. I
learned this fact from M. de Marigny, to whom he recited some of his
horrible verses one evening, when he supped with him, in company with
some people of quality. He chinked the money in his pocket. "This is my
good Archbishop's," said he, laughing; "I keep my word with him: my poem
will not be printed during my life, but I read it. What would the good
prelate say if he knew that I shared my last quarter's allowance with a
charming little opera-dancer? 'It is the Archbishop, then, who keeps
me,' said she to me; 'Oh, la! how droll that is!'" The King heard this,
and was much scandalised at it. "How difficult it is to do good!" said
he.
The King came into Madame de Pompadour's room, one day, as she was
finishing dressing. "I have just had a strange adventure," said he:
"would you believe that, in going out of my wardroom into my bedroom, I
met a gentleman face to face?"--"My God! Sire," cried Madame, terrified.
"It was nothing," replied he; "but I confess I was greatly surprised: the
man appeared speechless with consternation. 'What do you do here?' said
I, civilly. He threw himself on his knees, saying, 'Pardon me, Sire;
and, above all, have me searched: He instantly emptied his pockets
himself; he pulled off his coat in the greatest agitation and terror: at
last he told me that he was cook to -----, and a friend of Beccari, whom
he came to visit; that he had mistaken the staircase, and, finding all
the doors open, he had wandered into the room in which I found him, and
which he would have instantly left: I rang; Guimard came, and was
astonished enough at finding me tete-a-tete with a man in his shirt. He
begged Guimard to go with him into another room, and to search his whole
person. After this, the poor devil returned, and put on his coat.
Guimard said to me, 'He is certainly an honest man, and tells the truth;
this may, besides, be easily ascertained.' Another of the servants of
the palace came in, and happened to know him. 'I will answer for this
good man,' said, he, 'who, moreover, makes the best 'boeuf a carlate' in
the world.' As I saw the man was so agitated that he could not stand
steady, I took fifty louis out of my bureau, and said, Here, sir, are
fifty Louis, to quiet your alarms: He went out, after throwing himself at
my feet." Madame exclaimed on the impropriety of having the King's
bedroom thus accessible to everybody. He talked with great calmness of
this strange apparition, but it was evident that he controlled himself,
and that he had, in fact, been much frightened, as, indeed, he had reason
to be. Madame highly approved of the gift; and she was the more right in
applauding it, as it was by no means in the King's usual manner. M. de
Marigny said, when I told him of this adventure, that he would have
wagered a thousand louis against the King's making a present of fifty, if
anybody but I had told him of the circumstance. "It is a singular fact,"
continued he, "that all of the race of Valois have been liberal to
excess; this is not precisely the case with the Bourbons, who are rather
reproached with avarice. Henri IV. was said to be avaricious. He gave
to his mistresses, because he could refuse them nothing; but he played
with the eagerness of a man whose whole fortune depends on the game.
Louis XIV. gave through ostentation. It is most astonishing," added he,
"to reflect on what might have happened. The King might actually have
been assassinated in his chamber, without anybody knowing anything of the
matter and without a possibility of discovering the murderer." For more
than a fortnight Madame could not get over this incident.
About that time she had a quarrel with her brother, and both were in the
right. Proposals were made to him to marry the daughter of one of the
greatest noblemen of the Court, and the King consented to create him a
Duke, and even to make the title hereditary. Madame was right in wishing
to aggrandise her brother, but he declared that he valued his liberty
above all things, and that he would not sacrifice it except for a person
he really loved. He was a true Epicurean philosopher, and a man of great
capacity, according to the report of those who knew him well, and judged
him impartially. It was entirely at his option to have had the reversion
of M. de St. Florentin's place, and the place of Minister of Marine, when
M. de Machault retired; he said to his sister, at the time, "I spare you
many vexations, by depriving you of a slight satisfaction. The people
would be unjust to me, however well I might fulfil the duties of my
office. As to M. de St. Florentin's place, he may live five-and-twenty
years, so that I should not be the better for it. Kings' mistresses are
hated enough on their own account; they need not also draw upon,
themselves the hatred which is directed against Ministers." M. Quesnay
repeated this conversation to me.
The King had another mistress, who gave Madame de Pompadour some
uneasiness. She was a woman of quality, and the wife of one of the most
assiduous courtiers.