of his clothes, came to me one day, and told me that, as he was very much
attached to Madame, because she was good and useful to the King, he
wished to inform me that, a letter having fallen out of the pocket of a
coat which His Majesty had taken off, he had had the curiosity to read
it, and found it to be from the Comtesse de ----- who had already yielded
to the King's desires. In this letter, she required the King to give her
fifty thousand crowns in money, a regiment for one of her relations, and
a bishopric for another, and to dismiss Madame in the space of fifteen
days, etc. I acquainted Madame with what this man told me, and she acted
with singular greatness of mind. She said to me, "I ought to inform the
King of this breach of trust of his servant, who may, by the same means,
come to the knowledge of, and make a bad use of, important secrets; but I
feel a repugnance to ruin the man: however, I cannot permit him to remain
near the King's person, and here is what I shall do: Tell him that there
is a place of ten thousand francs a year vacant in one of the provinces;
let him solicit the Minister of Finance for it, and it shall be granted
to him; but, if he should ever disclose through what interest he has
obtained it, the King shall be made acquainted with his conduct. By this
means, I think I shall have done all that my attachment and duty
prescribe. I rid the King of a faithless domestic, without ruining the
individual." I did as Madame ordered me: her delicacy and address
inspired me with admiration. She was not alarmed on account of the lady,
seeing what her pretentions were. "She drives too quick," remarked
Madame, "and will certainly be overturned on the road." The lady died.
"See what the Court is; all is corruption there, from the highest to the
lowest," said I to Madame, one day, when she was speaking to me of some
facts, that had come to my knowledge. "I could tell you many others,"
replied Madame; "but the little chamber, where you often remain, must
furnish you with a sufficient number." This was a little nook, from,
whence I could hear a great part of what passed in Madame's apartment.
The Lieutenant of Police sometimes came secretly to this apartment, and
waited there. Three or four persons, of high consideration, also found
their way in, in a mysterious, manner, and several devotees, who were, in
their hearts, enemies of Madame de Pompadour. But these men had not
petty objects in view: one: required the government of a province;
another, a seat in the Council; a third, a Captaincy of the, Guards; and
this man would have obtained it if the Marechale de Mirepoix had not
requested it for her brother, the Prince de Beauvan. The Chevalier du
Muy was not among these apostates; not even the promise of being High
Constable would have tempted him to make up to Madame, still less to
betray his master, the Dauphin. This Prince was, to the last degree,
weary of the station he held. Sometimes, when teased to death by
ambitious people, who pretended to be Catos, or wonderfully devout, he
took part against a Minister against whom he was prepossessed; then
relapsed into his accustomed state of inactivity and ennui.
The King used to say, "My son is lazy; his temper is Polonese--hasty and
changeable; he has no tastes; he cares nothing for hunting, for women, or
for good living; perhaps he imagines that if he were in my place he would
be happy; at first, he would make great changes, create everything anew,
as it were. In a short time he would be as tired of the rank of King as
he now is of his own; he is only fit to live 'en philosophe', with clever
people about him." The King added, "He loves what is right; he is truly
virtuous, and does not want under standing."
M. de St. Germain said, one day, to the King, "To think well of mankind,
one must be neither a Confessor, nor a Minister, nor a Lieutenant of
Police."--"Nor a King," said His Majesty. "Ah! Sire," replied he, "you
remember the fog we had a few days ago, when we could not see four steps
before us. Kings are commonly surrounded by still thicker fogs,
collected around them by men of intriguing character, and faithless
Ministers--all, of every class, unite in endeavouring to make things
appear to Kings in any, light but the true one." I heard this from the
mouth of the famous Comte de St. Germain, as I was attending upon Madame,
who was ill in bed. The King was there; and the Count, who was a welcome
visitor, had been admitted. There were also present, M. de Gontaut,
Madame de Brancas, and the Abbe de Bernis. I remember that the very same
day, after the Count was gone out, the King talked in a style which gave
Madame great pain. Speaking of the King of Prussia, he said, "That is a
madman, who will risk all to gain all, and may, perhaps, win the game,
though he has neither religion, morals, nor principles. He wants to make
a noise in the world, and he will succeed. Julian, the Apostate, did the
same."--"I never saw the King so animated before," observed Madame, when
he was gone out; "and really the comparison with Julian, the Apostate, is
not amiss, considering the irreligion of the King of Prussia. If he gets
out of his perplexities, surrounded as he is by his enemies, he will be
one of the greatest men in history."
M. de Bernis remarked, "Madame is correct in her judgment, for she has no
reason to pronounce his praises; nor have I, though I agree with what she
says." Madame de Pompadour never enjoyed so much influence as at the
time when M. de Choiseul became one of the Ministry. From the time of
the Abbe de Bernis she had afforded him her constant support, and he had
been employed in foreign affairs, of which he was said to know but
little. Madame made the Treaty of Sienna, though the first idea of it
was certainly furnished her by the Abbe. I have been informed by several
persons that the King often talked to Madame upon this subject; for my
own part, I never heard any conversation relative to it, except the high
praises bestowed by her on the Empress and the Prince de Kaunitz, whom
she had known a good deal of. She said that he had a clear head, the
head of a statesman. One day, when she was talking in this strain, some
one tried to cast ridicule upon the Prince on account of the style in
which he wore his hair, and the four valets de chambre, who made the
hair-powder fly in all directions, while Kaunitz ran about that he might
only catch the superfine part of it. "Aye," said Madame, "just as
Alcibiades cut off his dog's tail in order to give the Athenians
something to talk about, and to turn their attention from those things he
wished to conceal."
Never was the public mind so inflamed against Madame de Pompadour as when
news arrived of the battle of Rosbach. Every day she received anonymous
letters, full of the grossest abuse; atrocious verses, threats of poison
and assassination. She continued long a prey to the most acute sorrow,
and could get no sleep but from opiates. All this discontent was excited
by her protecting the Prince of Soubise; and the Lieutenant of Police had
great difficulty in allaying the ferment of the people. The King
affirmed that it was not his fault. M. du Verney was the confidant of
Madame in everything relating to war; a subject which he well understood,
though not a military man by, profession. The old Marechal de Noailles
called him, in derision, the General of the flour, but Marechal Saxe, one
day, told Madame that Du Verney knew more of military matters than the
old Marshal. Du Verney once paid a visit to Madame de Pompadour, and
found her in company with the King, the Minister of War, and two
Marshals; he submitted to them the plan of a campaign, which was
generally applauded. It was through his influence that M. de Richelieu
was appointed to the command of the army, instead of the Marechal
d'Estrdes. He came to Quesnay two days after, when I was with him. The
Doctor began talking about the art of war, and I remember he said,
"Military men make a great mystery of their art; but what is the reason
that young Princes have always the most brilliant success? Why, because
they are active and daring. When Sovereigns command their troops in
person what exploits they perform! Clearly, because they are at liberty
to run all risks." These observations made a lasting impression on my
mind.
The first physician came, one day, to see Madame he was talking of madmen
and madness. The King was present, and everything relating to disease of
any kind interested him. The first physician said that he could
distinguish the symptoms of approaching madness six months beforehand.
"Are there any persons about the Court likely to become mad?" said the
King.--"I know one who will be imbecile in less than three months,"
replied he. The King pressed him to tell the name. He excused himself
for some time. At last he said, "It is M. de Sechelles, the
Controller-General."--"You have a spite against him," said Madame,
"because he would not grant what you asked"--"That is true," said he,
"but though that might possibly incline me to tell a disagreeable truth,
it would not make me invent one. He is losing his intellects from
debility. He affects gallantry at his age, and I perceive the connection
in his ideas is becoming feeble and irregular."--The King laughed; but
three months afterwards he came to Madame, saying, "Sechelles gives
evident proofs of dotage in the Council. We must appoint a successor to
him." Madame de Pompadour told me of this on the way to Choisy. Some
time afterwards, the first physician came to see Madame, and spoke to her
in private. "You are attached to M. Berryer, Madame," said he, "and I am
sorry to have to warn you that he will be attacked by madness, or by
catalepsy, before long. I saw him this morning at chapel, sitting on one
of those very low little chairs, which are only, meant to kneel upon.
His knees touched his chin. I went to his house after Mass; his eyes
were wild, and when his secretary spoke to him, he said, 'Hold your
tongue, pen. A pen's business is to write, and not to speak.'" Madame,
who liked the Keeper of the Seals, was very much concerned, and begged
the first physician not to mention what he had perceived. Four days
after this, M. Berryer was seized with catalepsy, after having talked
incoherently. This is a disease which I did not know even by name, and
got it written down for me. The patient remains in precisely the same
position in which the fit seizes him; one leg or arm elevated, the eyes
wide open, or just as it may happen. This latter affair was known to all
the Court at the death of the Keeper of the Seals.
When the Marechal de Belle-Isle's son was killed in battle, Madame
persuaded the King to pay his father a visit. He was rather reluctant,
and Madame said to him, with an air half angry, half playful:
--------"Barbare! don't l'orgueil
Croit le sang d'un sujet trop pays d'un coup d'oeil."
The King laughed, and said, "Whose fine verses are those?"--"Voltaire's,"
said Madame ------.
"As barbarous as I am, I gave him the place of gentleman in ordinary, and
a pension," said the King.
The King went in state to call on the Marshal, followed by all the Court;
and it certainly appeared that this solemn visit consoled the Marshal for
the loss of his son, the sole heir to his name.
When the Marshal died, he was carried to his house on a common
hand-barrow, covered with a shabby cloth. I met the body. The bearers
were laughing and singing. I thought it was some servant, and asked who
it was. How great was my surprise at learning that these were the
remains of a man abounding in honours and in riches. Such is the Court;
the dead are always in fault, and cannot be put out of sight too soon.
The King said, "M. Fouquet is dead, I hear."--"He was no longer Fouquet,"
replied the Duc d'Ayen; "Your Majesty had permitted him to change that
name, under which, however, he acquired all his reputation." The King
shrugged his shoulders. His Majesty had, in fact, granted him letters
patent, permitting him not to sign Fouquet during his Ministry. I heard
this on the occasion in question. M. de Choiseul had the war department
at his death. He was every day more and more in favour.
Madame treated him with greater distinction than any previous Minister,
and his manners towards her were the most agreeable it is possible to
conceive, at once respectful and gallant. He never passed a day without
seeing her. M. de Marigny could not endure M. de Choiseul, but he never
spoke of him, except to his intimate friends. Calling, one day, at
Quesnay's, I found him there. They were talking of M. de Choiseul. "He
is a mere 'petit maitre'," said the Doctor, "and, if he were handsome
just fit to be one of Henri the Third's favourites." The Marquis de
Mirabeau and M. de La Riviere came in. "This kingdom," said Mirabeau,
"is in a deplorable state. There is neither national energy, nor the
only substitute for it--money."--"It can only be regenerated," said La
Riviere, "by a conquest, like that of China, or by some great internal
convulsion; but woe to those who live to see that! The French people do
not do things by halves." These words made me tremble, and I hastened
out of the room. M. de Marigny did the same, though without appearing at
all affected by what had been said. "You heard De La Riviere," said
he,--"but don't be alarmed, the conversations that pass at the Doctor's
are never repeated; these are honourable men, though rather chimerical.
They know not where to stop. I think, however, they are in the right
way; only, unfortunately, they go too far." I wrote this down
immediately.
The Comte de St. Germain came to see Madame de Pompadour, who was ill,
and lay on the sofa. He shewed her a little box, containing topazes,
rubies, and emeralds. He appeared to have enough to furnish a treasury.
Madame sent for me to see all these beautiful things. I looked at them
with an air of the utmost astonishment, but I made signs to Madame that I
thought them all false. The Count felt for something in his pocketbook,
about twice as large as a spectacle-case, and, at length, drew out two or
three little paper packets, which he unfolded, and exhibited a superb
ruby. He threw on the table, with a contemptuous air, a little cross of
green and white stones. I looked at it and said, "That is not to be
despised." I put it on, and admired it greatly. The Count begged me to
accept it. I refused--he urged me to take it. Madame then refused it
for me. At length, he pressed it upon me so warmly that Madame, seeing
that it could not be worth above forty Louis, made me a sign to accept
it. I took the cross, much pleased at the Count's politeness; and, some
days after, Madame presented him with an enamelled box, upon which was
the portrait of some Grecian sage (whose name I don't recollect), to whom
she compared him. I skewed the cross to a jeweller, who valued it at
sixty-five Louis. The Count offered to bring Madame some enamel
portraits, by Petitot, to look at, and she told him to bring them after
dinner, while the King was hunting. He shewed his portraits, after which
Madame said to him, "I have heard a great deal of a charming story you
told two days ago, at supper, at M. le Premier's, of an occurrence you
witnessed fifty or sixty years ago." He smiled and said, "It is rather
long."--"So much the better," said she, with an air of delight. Madame
de Gontaut and the ladies came in, and the door was shut; Madame made a
sign to me to sit down behind the screen. The Count made many apologies
for the ennui which his story would, perhaps, occasion. He said,
"Sometimes one can tell a story pretty well; at other times it is quite a
different thing."
"At the beginning of this century, the Marquis de St. Gilles was
Ambassador from Spain to the Hague. In his youth he had been
particularly intimate with the Count of Moncade, a grandee of Spain, and
one of the richest nobles of that country. Some months after the
Marquis's arrival at the Hague, he received a letter from the Count,
entreating him, in the name of their former friendship, to render him the
greatest possible service. 'You know,' said he, 'my dear Marquis, the
mortification I felt that the name of Moncade was likely to expire with
me. At length, it pleased heaven to hear my prayers, and to grant me a
son: he gave early promise of dispositions worthy of his birth, but he,
some time since, formed an unfortunate and disgraceful attachment to the
most celebrated actress of the company of Toledo. I shut my eyes to this
imprudence on the part of a young man whose conduct had, till then,
caused me unmingled satisfaction. But, having learnt that he was so
blinded by passion as to intend to marry this girl, and that he had even
bound himself by a written promise to that effect, I solicited the King
to have her placed in confinement. My son, having got information of the
steps I had taken, defeated my intentions by escaping with the object of
his passion. For more than six months I have vainly endeavoured to
discover where he has concealed himself, but I have now some reason to
think he is at the Hague. The Count earnestly conjured the Marquis to
make the most rigid search, in order to discover his son's retreat, and
to endeavour to prevail upon him to return to his home. 'It is an act of
justice,' continued he, 'to provide for the, girl, if she consents to
give up the written promise of marriage which she has received, and I
leave it to your discretion to do what is right for her, as well as to
determine the sum necessary to bring my son to Madrid in a manner
suitable to his condition. I know not,' concluded he, 'whether you are a
father; if you are, you will be able to sympathise in my anxieties.' The
Count subjoined to this letter an exact description of his son, and the
young woman by whom he was accompanied.