Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer
MEMOIRS OF THE COMTESSE DU BARRY
WITH MINUTE DETAILS OF HER ENTIRE CAREER AS FAVORITE OF LOUIS XV
“WRITTEN BY HERSELF”
By Baron Etienne Leon Lamothe-Langon
With a special introduction by Robert Arnot, M.A.
GUTENBERG EDITOR’S NOTE:
This delightful (piquant, the comtesse would say) pseudonymous work
was in fact written not “by herself” but by Baron Etienne Leon
Lamothe-Langon (1786-1864). The persona created is that of a woman
who always tells the truth as she sees it, but it is made clear to the
reader that what the narrator sees is very seldom exactly the objective
truth. The author ends as well as begins _in medias res_ (in the middle
of the action), thus creating an illusion of a slice of a journal but
simultaneously giving the reader the uneasy feeling that the first and
last chapters seem to be missing.
The French-style quotation marks have, for ease in typesetting and use,
been changed to American-style quotation marks, and the dot after the
name of Louis XV has been removed to conform to American punctuation.
Captions of illustrations are omitted because the illustrations
themselves cannot be inserted. A few minor editing errors have been
silently corrected. No other changes have been made; the irregularity in
italicizing or not italicizing, in translating or not translating French
words, and in punctuating quotations of letters, is in the text itself.
Notes are identified as coming from author, tr. (translator), editor, or
Gutenberg editor.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
Letter from Lebel--Visit from Lebel--Nothing conclusive--Another visit
from Lebel--Invitation to sup with the king--Instructions of the comte
Jean to the comtesse
CHAPTER II
A slight preface--Arrival at Versailles--_“La toilette”_--Portrait of
the king--The duc de Richelieu--The marquis de Chauvelin--The duc de la
Vauguyon-Supper with the king--The first night--The following day--The
curiosity of comte Jean--Presents from the king--How disposed of
CHAPTER III
The king’s message--Letter from the countess--A second supper at
Versailles--The duc d’Ayen--A short account of M. de Fleury--The duc de
Duras--Conversation with the king--The next day--A visit from the duc
de Richelieu--Visit from the duc de la Vauguyon--Visit from comte
Jean--Visit from the king--A third supper--Favor
CHAPTER IV
The duc d’Aiguillon--The duc de Fronsac--The duchesse de Grammont--The
meeting--Sharp words on both sides--The duc de Choiseul--Mesdames
d’Aiguillon--Letter from the duc d’Aiguillon--Reply of madame du
Barry--Mademoiselle Guimard--The prince de Soubise--Explanation--The
Rohans--Madame de Marsan--Court friendships
CHAPTER V
The duc de la Vauguyon and the comtesse du Barry--The marquis
de Chauvelin and the comtesse--M. de Montbarrey and the
comtesse--Intrigues--Lebel--Arrival of the du Barry family--The comte
d’Hargicourt--The demoiselles du Barry--Marriage of the comtesse--The
marquis de Bonrepos--Correspondences--The broken glass
CHAPTER VI
Journey to Choisy--The comtesse du Barry and Louis XV--The king of
Denmark--The czar Peter--Frederick II--The abbé de la Chapelle--An
experiment--New intrigues--Secret agents-The comtesse and Louis
XV--Of the presentation--Letter of the comtesse to the duc
d’Aiguillon--Reply--Prince de Soubise
CHAPTER VII
The comtesse and the duc d’Aiguillon--M. de Soubise--Louis XV and the
duc d’Aiguillon--Letter from the comtesse to the king--Answer of
the king-The “_Nouvelles a la Main_”--The comtesse and Louis XV--The
supper--The court ladies mystified--The comtesse and M. de Sartines
CHAPTER VIII
The sieur Ledoux--The _lettre de cachet_--The duc de la
Vrillière--Madame de Langeac--M. de Maupeou--Louis XV--The comte Jean
CHAPTER IX
The king of Denmark--The courtesans of Paris--The duc de Choiseul and
the bishop of Orleans--Witty repartees of the king of Denmark--His visit
to madame du Barry--“The court of king Petaud,” a satire--Letter of
the duc d’Aiguillon to Voltaire--The duchesse de Grammont
mystified--Unpublished letter of Voltaire’s
CHAPTER X
When is the presentation to take place?--Conversation on this subject
with the king--M. de Maupeou and M. de la Vauguyon--Conversation on
the same subject with the king and the duc de Richelieu--M. de
la Vrillière--M. Bertin---Louis XV and the comtesse--The king’s
promise--The fire-works, an anecdote--The marquise de Castellane--M. de
Maupeou at the duc de Choiseul’s--The duchesse de Grammont
CHAPTER XI
A word concerning the duchesse de Choiseul--The apartment of the Comte
de Noailles--The Noailles--Intrigues for presentation--The comte de
Bearn--M. Morand once more--Visit of the comtesse Bearn to the comtesse
du Barry--Conversation--Interested complaisance--The king and the
comtesse du Barry--Dispute and reconciliation
CHAPTER XII
The comtesse de Bearn--The supper--Louis XV--Intrigues against
my presentation--M. de Roquelaure--The scalded foot--The comtesse
d’Aloigny--The duc d’Aiguillon and madame de Bearn--Anger of the king’s
daughters--Madame Adélaïde and the comtesse du Barry--Dissatisfaction of
the king
CHAPTER XIII
Of the presentation--The king and the duc de Richelieu at comtesse du
Barry’s--M. de la Vauguyon--Conversation--Letter of the duke to the
comtesse du Barry--Reply--The countess unites herself with the Jesuit
party--Madame Louise--Madame Sophie--M. Bertin--Madame de Bercheny
CHAPTER XIV
The princesses consent to the presentation of madame du Barry--Ingenious
artifice employed by the king to offer a present to the duc de la
Vauguyon--Madame du Barry’s letter respecting it--The duke’s reply--The
king’s letter--The court in despair--Couplets concerning madame du
Barry--Her presentation--A change in public opinion--An evening party at
the house of the countess--Joy of her partizans--Conversation with the
chancellor respecting the lady of the maréchal de Mirepoix
CHAPTER XV
The Comte de la Marche, a prince of the blood--Madame de Beauvoir, his
mistress--Madame du Barry complains to the prince de Soubise of the
princess de Guémenée--The king consoles the countess for this--The duc
de Choiseul--The king speaks to him of madame du Barry--Voltaire writes
to her--The opinions of Richelieu and the king concerning Voltaire
CHAPTER XVI
Unpublished letter of Voltaire to madame du Barry--Reply of the
countess--The maréchale de Mirepoix--Her first interview with madame du
Barry--Anecdote of the diamonds of madame de Mirepoix--The king pays
for them--Singular gratitude of the maréchale--The portfolio, and an
unpublished letter of the marquise de Pompadour
CHAPTER XVII
Conversation of the maréchale de Mirepoix with the comtesse du Barry
on court friendship--Intrigues of madame de Bearn--Preconcerted meeting
with madame de Flaracourt---Rage of madame de Bearn--Portrait and
conversation of madame de Flaracourt with the comtesse du Barry--Insult
from the princesse de Guémenée--Her banishment--Explanation of the
king and the duc de Choiseul relative to madame du Barry--The comtesse
d’Egmont
CHAPTER XVIII
Intrigue of the comtesse d’Egmont with a shopman--His unhappy
fate--The comtesse du Barry protects him--Conduct of Louis XV upon the
occasion--The young man quits France--Madame du Barry’s letter to the
comtesse d’Egmont--Quarrel with the maréchal de Richelieu
CHAPTER XIX
Madame du Barry separates from madame de Bearn--Letters between
these ladies--Portrait of madame de l’Hôpital--The ladder--The
bell--Conversation with madame de Mirepoix--First visit to
Chantilly--Intrigues to prevent the countess from going thither--The
king’s Displeasure towards the princesses--The archbishop de Senlis
CHAPTER XX
Unpublished letter of Louis XV--Madame du Barry’s cousin, M. 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
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
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
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
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
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
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
CHAPTER XXVII
The comte de la Marche and the comtesse du Barry--The countess and the
prince de Condé--The duc de la Vauguyon and the countess--Provisional
minister--Refusal of the secretaryship of war--Displeasure of the
king--The maréchale de Mirepoix--Unpublished letter from Voltaire to
Madame du Barry--Her reply
CHAPTER XXVIII
A few words respecting Jean Jacques Rousseau--The comtesse du Barry
is desirous of his acquaintance--The countess visits Jean Jacques
Rousseau--His household furniture--His portrait--Thérèse--A second visit
from madame du Barry to Jean Jacques Rousseau--The countess relates her
visit to the king--Billet from J. J. Rousseau to madame du Barry--The
two duchesses d’Aiguillon
CHAPTER XXIX
The king’s friends--The duc de Fronsac--The duc d’Ayen’s remark--Manner
of living at court--The marquis de Dreux--Brézé--Education of
Louis XV--The _Parc-aux-Cerfs_--Its household--Its inmates--Mère
Bompart--Livres expended on the _Parc-aur-Cerfs_--Good advice--Madame
CHAPTER XXX
Fête given by the comtesse de Valentinois--The comtesse du Barry feigns
an indisposition--Her dress--The duc de Cossé--The comte and comtesse
de Provence--Dramatic entertainment--Favart and Voisenon--A few
observations--A pension--The maréchale de Luxembourg--Adventure of M.
de Bombelles--Copy of a letter addressed to him--Louis XV--M. de Maupeou
and madame du Barry
CHAPTER XXXI
Madame du Barry purchases the services of Marin the gazetteer--Louis
XV and madame de Rumas--M. de Rumas and the comtesse du Barry--An
intrigue--_Dénouement_--A present upon the occasion--The duc de
Richelieu in disgrace--100,000 livres
CHAPTER XXXII
A prefatory remark--Madame Brillant--The maréchale de Luxembourg’s
cat--Despair of the maréchale--The ambassador, Beaumarchais, and the duc
de Chaulnes--the comte d’Aranda--Louis XV and his relics--The abbé de
Beauvais--His sermons--He is appointed bishop
CHAPTER XXXIII
M. D----n and madame de Blessac--Anecdote--The rendezvous and
the Ball--The wife of Gaubert--They wish to give her to the
king--Intrigues--Their results--Letter from the duc de la Vrillière to
the countess--Reply—Reconciliation
CHAPTER XXXIV
Conversation with the king--Marriage of the comte
d’Artois--Intrigues--The place of lady of honor--The maréchale de
Mirepoix--The comtesse de Forcalquier and madame du Barry--The comtesse
de Forcalquier and madame Boncault
CHAPTER XXXV
Marriage of madame Boncault--The comte de Bourbon Busset--Marriage of
comte d’Hargicourt--Disgrace of the comte de Broglie--He is replaced
by M. Lemoine--The king complains of ennui--Conversations on the
subject--Entry into Paris
CHAPTER XXXVI
Visit from a stranger--Madame de Pompadour and a Jacobinical
monk--Continuation of this history--Deliverance of a state prisoner--A
meeting with the stranger
CHAPTER XXXVII
A conspiracy--A scheme for poisoning madame du Barry--The four
bottles--Letter to the duc d’Aiguillon--Advice of the ministers--Opinion
of the physicians--The chancellor and lieutenant of police--Resolution
of the council
CHAPTER XXXVIII
Conclusion of this affair--A letter from the _incognita_--Her
examination--Arrest of Cabert the Swiss--He dies in the Bastille of
poison--Madame Lorimer is arrested and poisoned---The innocence of
the Jesuits acknowledged--Madame de Mirepoix and the 100,000
francs--Forgetfulness on the part of the lieutenant of police--A visit
from comte Jean--Madame de Mirepoix
CHAPTER XXXIX
My alarms--An _èlève_ of the _Pare-aux-Cerfs_--Comte Jean endeavours to
direct the king’s ideas--A supper at Trianon--Table talk--The king is
seized with illness--His conversation with me--The joiner’s daughter and
the small-pox--My despair--Conduct of La Martinière the surgeon
CHAPTER XL.
La Martinière causes the king to be removed to Versailles--The young
prophet appears again to madame du Barry--Prediction respecting
cardinal de Richelieu--The joiner’s daughter requests to see madame du
Barry--Madame de Mirepoix and the 50,000 francs--A _soirée_ in the salon
of madame du Barry
CHAPTER XLI
Interview with the joiner’s daughter--Consultation of the physicians
respecting the king--The small-pox declares itself--the comte de
Muy--The princesses--Extreme sensibility of madame de Mirepoix--The
king is kept in ignorance of his real condition--The archbishop of Paris
visits Versailles
CHAPTER XLII
First proceedings of the council--The dauphin receives the prelates with
great coolness--Situation of the archbishop of Paris--Richelieu evades
the project for confessing the king--The friends of madame du Barry
come forward--The English physician--The abbé Terray--Interview with the
prince de Soubise--The prince and the courtiers--La Martinière informs
the king of France the true nature of his complaint--Consequences of
this disclosure
CHAPTER XLIII
Terror of the king--A complication--Filial piety of the princesses--Last
interview between madame du Barry and Louis XV--Conversation with the
maréchale de Mirepoix--The chancellor Maupeou--The fragment--Comte Jean
CHAPTER XLIV
The duc d’Aiguillon brings an order for the immediate departure of
madame du Barry--The king’s remarks recapitulated--The countess holds
a privy council--Letter to madame de Mirepoix and the ducs de Cossé and
d’Aiguillon--Night of departure--Ruel--Visit from madame de Forcalquier
CHAPTER XLV
The duc d’Aiguillon’s first letter--The maréchale de Mirepoix--A second
letter from the duc d’Aiguillon--Numerous visitors
CHAPTER XLVI
A third letter from the duke--The king receives extreme unction--Letter
from madame Victoire to the dauphin--M. de Machault--A promenade with
the duc de Cossé--Kind attention from the prince des Deux Pouts--A
fourth letter from the duc d’Aiguillon--Comte Jean bids me farewell--M.
d’Aiguillon’s fifth letter, containing an account of the death of Louis
XV--The duc de la Vrillière--The _Lettre de cachet_--Letter to the
queen--Departure for the abbey of _Pont aux Dames_
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION BY ROBERT ARNOT
Up to the time of the Du Barry the court of France had been the stage
where the whole political and human drama of that country was enacted.
Under Louis XV the drama had been transformed into parades--parades
which were of as much importance to the people as to those who took
part in them. The spectators, hitherto silent, now began to hiss and be
moved. The scene of the comedy was changed, and the play was continued
among the spectators. The old theatre became an ante-chamber or a
dressing-room, and was no longer important except in connection with the
Cardinal de Bernis and the Duc de Richelieu, or Madame de Pompadour and
Madame du Barry.
The monarchy had still a step to take towards its downfall. It had
already created the _Pare aux Cerfs_ (Louis XV’s seraglio), but had
not yet descended to the Parisian house of prostitution. It made this
descent leaning on the arm of Madame du Barry. Madame du Barry was a
moral sister to Manon Lescaut, but instead of taking herself off to
Louisiana to repent, she plunged into the golden whirlpool at Versailles
as a finish to her career. Could the coaches of a King mean more than
the ordinary carriage of an abandoned girl?
Jeanne Vaubernier--known in the bagnios by the name of Mademoiselle
Lange--was born at Vaucouleurs, as was Jeanne d’Arc. Better still, this
later Jeanne said openly at Versailles--dared she say otherwise?--that
she was descended in a straight line from the illustrious, the
venerated, the august, sacred, national maid, Jeanne. “Why did Du Barry
come to Paris?’” says Leon Gozlan in that account of the Château de
Lucienne which makes a brilliant and learned chapter in the history of
France. “Does one ever know precisely why things are done? She obeyed
the magnet which attracts to Paris all who in themselves have a title to
glory, to celebrity, or to misfortune. Du Barry had a pretty, provincial
face, bright and charming, a face astonished at everything, hair soft
and ash-colored, blue eyes, veiled and half open, and a skin fair with
rose tints. She was a child of destiny. Who could have said, when she
crossed the great town in her basket cart, which rolled lazily along
on its massive, creaking wheels, that some day she would have equipages
more beautiful than any of those which covered her with mud in passing,
and on her arms more laces and diamonds than any of these ladies
attended by footmen in liveries?”
When Jeanne left the provinces to come to Paris, she found her native
country. She was granted the freedom of the city, and expanded in
her joy like a delicate plant transplanted into a hothouse. She found
herself at home for the first time; and felt that she could rule as a
despot over all frequenters of the streets. She learned fashion and
love at one and the same time. Gourdan had a hat made for her, and, as
a reward, initiated her into the customs. But she was called to other
destinies.
One day, when she was walking in the Tuileries, a lunatic--and lunatics
have second sight--asked her favor when she should become queen. Du
Barry said to herself: “This man is mad.” But then she thought of the
Pompadour, blushed--it was the only time--and turned her eyes towards
Versailles.
But Versailles was an unhoped-for shore to such a girl as this, a girl
known to all Paris. Would the King care to be the lover of one who had
ruled all his courtesans? Who could say? The King often wearied of what
he had. Had not a poet already been found who compared her to Venus:
O Jeanne, thy beauty seduces
And charms the whole world;
In vain does the duchess redden
And the princess growl;
They know that Venus rides proudly
The foam of the wave.
The poet, while not Voltaire, was no less a man than Bouffiers.
While the King was seeking a mistress--a nocturnal reverse of Diogenes,
fleeing from the lanterns of the wise--he found Jeanne Vaubernier. He
thought he could love her for one evening. “Not enough,” said she, “you
must love me until broad daylight.” So he loved her for a whole day.
What should one eat in order to be loved by royalty? Was it necessary to
have a coat of arms? She had them in number, because she had been loved
by all the great names in the book of heraldry. And so she begged the
Viscount Jean du Barry to give her the title of viscountess. “Better
still,” exclaimed Jean, “I will give you the title of countess. My
brother will marry you; he is a male scamp, and you are the female. What
a beautiful marriage!”
So they were united. The newly made countess was solemnly presented at
court by a countess of an ancient date, namely, the Countess de Bearn.
King Voltaire protested, in a satire entitled “_The Court of King
Petaud_” (topsy-turvy), afterwards denying it. The duc de Choiseul
protested, France protested, but all Versailles threw itself
passionately at the feet of the new countess. Even the daughters of the
King paid her court, and allowed her to call them by their pet
names: Loque, Chiffe, and Graille. The King, jealous of this gracious
familiarity, wished her to call him by some pet name, and so the
Bacchante, who believed that through the King she held all France in her
hand, called him “La France,” making him a wife to his Gray Musketeers.
Oh, that happy time! Du Barry and Louis XV hid their life--like the
sage--in their little apartments. She honeyed his chocolate, and
he himself made her coffee. Royalty consecrated a new verb for the
dictionary of the Academy, and Madame du Barry said to the King: “At
home, I can love you to madness.” The King gave the castle of Lucienne
to his mistress in order to be able to sing the same song. Truly the
Romeo and Juliet _de la main gauche_.
Du Barry threw out her fish-wifely epithets with ineffable tenderness.
She only opened her eyes half way, even when she took him by the throat.
The King was enchanted by these humors. It was a new world. But someone
said to him: “Ah, Sire, it is easy to see that your Majesty has never
been at the house of Gourdan.”
Yet Du Barry was adored by poets and artists. She extended both hands to
them. Jeanne’s beauty had a penetrating, singular charm. At once she
was blonde and brunette--black eyebrows and lashes with blue eyes,
rebellious light hair with darker shadows, cheeks of ideal contour,
whose pale rose tints were often heightened by two or three touches--a
lie “formed by the hand of Love,” as anthology puts it--a nose with
expressive nostrils, an air of childlike candour, and a look seductive
to intoxication. A bold yet shrinking Venus, a Hebe yet a Bacchante.
With much grace Voltaire says:
“Madame:
“M. de la Borde tells me that you have ordered him to kiss me on both
cheeks for you:
“What! Two kisses at life’s end
What a passport to send me!
Two is one too much, Adorable Nymph;
I should die of pleasure at the first.
“He showed me your portrait, and be not offended, Madame, when I tell
you that I have taken the liberty of giving that the two kisses.”
Perhaps Voltaire would not have written this letter, had he not read the
one written by the King to the Duc de Choiseul, who refused to pay court
to the left-hand queen:
“My Cousin,
“The discontent which your acts cause me forces me to exile you to
Chanteloup, where you will take yourself within twenty-four hours. I
would have sent you farther away were it not for the particular esteem
in which I hold Madame de Choiseul. With this, I pray God, my cousin, to
take you into His safe and holy protection.
“Louis.”
This exile was the only crime of the courtesan. On none of her enemies
did she close the gates of the Bastille. And more than once did she
place a pen in the hands of Louis XV with which to sign a pardon.
Sometimes, indeed, she was ironic in her compassion.
“Madame,” said M. de Sartines to her one day, “I have discovered a rogue
who is scattering songs about you; what is to be done with him?”
“Sentence him to sing them for a livelihood.”
But she afterwards made the mistake of pensioning Chevalier de Morande
to buy silence.
The pleasures of the King and his favorite were troubled only by the
fortune-tellers. Neither the King nor the countess believed in the
predictions of the philosophers, but they did believe in divination. One
day, returning from Choisy, Louis XV found under a cushion of his coach
a slip of paper on which was transcribed this prediction of the monk
Aimonius, the savant who could read all things from the vast book of the
stars:
“As soon as Childeric had returned from Thuringia, he was crowned King
of France And no sooner was he King than he espoused Basine, wife of the
King of Thuringia. She came herself to find Childeric. The first night
of the marriage, and before the King had retired, the queen begged
Childeric to look from one of the palace windows which opened on a park,
and tell what he saw there. Childeric looked out and, much terrified,
reported to the princess that he had seen tigers and lions. Basine sent
him a second time to look out. This time the prince only saw bears and
wolves, and the third time he perceived only cats and dogs, fighting
and combating each other. Then Basine said to him: I will give you
an explanation of what you have seen: The first figure shows you
your successors, who will excel you in courage and power; the second
represents another race which will be illustrious for their conquests,
and which will augment your kingdom for many centuries; but the third
denotes the end of your kingdom, which will be given over to pleasures
and will lose to you the friendship of your subjects; and this because
the little animals signify a people who, emancipated from fear of
princes, will massacre them and make war upon each other.”
Louis read the prediction and passed the paper to the Countess: “After
us the end of the world,” said she gaily. The King laughed, but the abbé
de Beauvais celebrated high mass at Versailles after the carnival of
1774, and dared to say, in righteous anger: “This carnival is the last;
yet forty days and Nineveh shall perish.” Louis turned pale. “Is it God
who speaks thus?” murmured he, raising his eyes to the altar. The next
day he went to the hunt in grand style, but from that evening he was
afraid of solitude and silence: “It is like the tomb; I do not wish
to put myself in such a place,” said he to Madame du Barry. The duc
de Richelieu tried to divert him. “No,” said he suddenly, as if the
Trappist’s denunciation had again recurred to him, “I shall be at ease
only when these forty days have passed.” He died on the fortieth day.
Du Barry believed neither in God nor in the devil, but she believed in
the almanac of Liège. She scarcely read any book but this--faithful to
her earliest habits. And the almanac of Liège, in its prediction for
April, 1774, said: “A woman, the greatest of favorites, will play her
last role.” So Madame the Countess du Barry said without ceasing:
“I shall not be tranquil until these forty days have passed.” The
thirty-seventh day the King went to the hunt attended with all the
respect due to his rank. Jeanne wept in silence and prayed to God as one
who has long neglected her prayers.
Louis XV had not neglected his prayers, and gave two hundred thousand
livres to the poor, besides ordering masses at St. Geneviève. Parliament
opened the shrine, and knelt gravely before that miraculous relic. The
least serious of all these good worshippers was, strange to say, the
curate of St. Geneviève: “Ah, well!” said he gaily, when Louis was dead,
“let us continue to talk of the miracles of St. Geneviève. Of what can
you complain? Is not the King dead?”
At the last moment it was not God who held the heart of Louis--it was
his mistress. “Ask the Countess to come here again,” he said.
“Sire, you know that she has gone away,” they answered.
“Ah! has she gone? Then I must go!” So he departed.
His end drew forth some maledictions. There were insults even at his
funeral services. “Nevertheless,” said one old soldier, “he was at the
battle of Fontenoy.” That was the most eloquent funeral oration of Louis
XV.
“The King is dead, long live the King!” But before the death of Louis
XVI they cried: “The king is dead, long live the Republic!”
Rose-colored mourning was worn in the good city of Paris. The funeral
oration of the King and a lament for his mistress were pronounced by
Sophie Arnould, of which masterpiece of sacred eloquence the last words
only are preserved: “Behold us orphaned both of father and mother.”
If Madame du Barry was one of the seven plagues of royalty, she died
faithful to royalty. After her exile to Pont aux Dames she returned to
Lucienne, where the duc de Cossé Brissac consoled her for the death of
Louis XV. But what she loved in Louis was that he was a king; her true
country was Versailles; her true light was the sun of court life. Like
Montespan, also a courtesan of high order, she often went in these dark
days to cast a loving look upon the solitary park in the maze of the
Trianon. Yet she was particularly happy at Lucienne.
I have compared her to Manon Lescaut, and I believe her to have been
also a sister to Ganesin. All three were destroyed by passion.
One day she found herself still young at Lucienne, although her sun was
setting. She loved the duc de Brissac, and how many pages of her past
romance would she that day have liked to erase and forget!
“Why do you weep, Countess?” asked her lover.
“My friend,” she responded, “I weep because I love you, shall I say it?
I weep because I am happy.”
She was right; happiness is a festival that should know no to-morrow.
But on the morrow of her happiness, the Revolution knocked at the castle
gate of Lucienne.
“Who goes there?”
“I am justice; prepare for destiny.”
The Queen, the true queen, had been good to her as to everybody. Marie
Antoinette remembered that the favorite had not been wicked. The debts
of Du Barry were paid and money enough was given to her so that she
could still give with both hands. Lucienne became an echo of Versailles.
Foreign kings and Parisian philosophers came to chat in its portals.
Minerva visited shameless Venus. But wisdom took not root at Lucienne.
For the Revolution, alas! had to cut off this charming head, which was
at one time the ideal of beauty--of court beauty. Madame du Barry gave
hospitality to the wounded at the arrest of the queen. “These wounded
youths have no other regret than that they have not died for a princess
so worthy as your Majesty,” she said. “What I have done for these brave
men is only what they have merited. I consoled them, and I respect their
wounds when I think, Madame, that without their devotion, your Majesty
would no longer be alive. Lucienne is yours, Madame, for was it not your
beneficence which gave it to me? All I possess has come to me through
the royal family. I have too much loyalty to forget it.”
But negro Zamor became a citizen like Mirabeau. It was Zamor who took to
Du Barry her lover’s head. It was Zamor who denounced her at the club of
the Jacobins. “The fealty (faith) of the black man is white,” said the
negro. But he learned how to make it red. Jeanne was imprisoned and
tried before Dumas.
“Your age?”
“Forty-two years.” She was really forty-seven. Coquetry even at the
guillotine.
The public accuser, Fouquier Tinville, was not disarmed by the sweet
voluptuousness still possessed by this pale and already fading beauty.
He accused her of treason against the nation. Could the defender of Du
Barry, who had also defended Marie Antoinette, find an eloquent word?
No; Fouquier Tinville was more eloquent than Chauveau-Lagarde. So
the mistress of Louis was condemned. It was eleven o’clock in the
evening--the hour for supper at Versailles when she was queen!
She passed the night in prayer and weeping, or rather in a frenzy of
fright. In the morning she said it was “too early to die”; she wished
to have a little time in order to make some disclosures. The Comité sent
someone to listen to her. What did she say? She revealed all that was
hidden away at Lucienne; she gave word by word an inventory of the
treasures she had concealed, forgetting nothing, for did not each word
give her a second of time?
“Have you finished?” said the inquisitor. “No,” said Jeanne. “I have not
mentioned a silver syringe concealed under the staircase!”
Meanwhile the horses of destiny stamped with impatience, and spectators
were knocking at the prison gate. When they put her, already half
dead, on the little cart, she bent her head and grew pale. The Du Barry
alone--a sinner without redemption.
She saw the people in the square of Louis XV; she struck her breast
three times and murmured: “It is my fault!” But this Christian
resignation abandoned her when she mounted the scaffold--there where the
statue of Louis XV had been--and she implored of the executioner:
“One moment, Mr. Executioner! One moment more!”
But the executioner was pitiless Sanson. It was block and the
knife--without the “one moment!”
Such was the last bed of the Du Barry. Had the almanac of Liège only
predicted to her that the one who would lead her to her bed for the
last time would not be a King but a citizen executioner, it might have
been--but why moralize?
Robert Arnot
_To the Reader_
_As the early part of Madame du Barry’s career had little to
differentiate it from the life of an ordinary courtezan, the editor has
deemed it best to confine the memoirs to the years in her life which
helped to make history._
_--Editor*_
* “Editor here means the author, who is assuming
the persona of the editor of the Comtesse’s memoirs.
CHAPTER I
Letter from Lebel--Visit from Lebel--Nothing conclusive--
Another visit from Lebel--Invitation to sup with the king--
Instructions of the comte Jean to the comtesse
One morning comte Jean entered my apartment, his face beaming with
delight.
“Read,” said he, giving me a letter, “read, Jeannette: victory is ours.
News from Morand. Lebel is coming to Paris, and will dine with us. Are
we alone?”
“No, there are two of your countrymen whom you invited yesterday.”
“I will write and put them off. Morand alone must dine with Lebel; he
ought to have a place at the feast which he furnishes with such good
music. Come, my dear girl, we touch the moment of importance, it is in
your beauty and power of pleasing that I place all my hopes. I think
I may rely on you; but, above all, do not forget that you are my
sister-in-law.”
“Brother-in-law,” said I, laughing, “it is not unnecessary that I should
know decidedly to which of family I am married? The custom in France is
not that a woman be the undivided property of three brothers.”
“That only happens in Venice,” replied the comte; “my brother Elie is
too young, you must be the wife of Guillaume, my second brother.”
“Very well; I am the comtesse Guillaume du Barry; that does famously
well; we like to know whom we are married to.”
After this conversation, comte Jean insisted on presiding at my
toilette. He acquitted himself of the task, with a most laughable
attention. During two good hours, at least, he tormented first
Henriette, and then the female hairdresser, for I had not yet followed
the mode, which began to be very general, of having my hair dressed by a
man. Comte Jean passed alternately from my dressing-room to the kitchen.
He knew Lebel was a gallant and a gourmand, and he was anxious to please
him in all senses at once.
At one o’clock I was under arms, and prepared to receive him on whom
my destiny depended. As soon as I reached the drawing-room, comte Jean
compelled me to submit to the test of a rigid examination.
His serious air amused me much as he gazed at me some time in solemn
silence. At length his forehead relaxed, a smile of satisfaction played
on his lips, and extending his arms to me, without venturing to touch
me, “You are charming, divine,” he said; “Lebel ought to go and hang
himself if he does not fall down at your knees.”
Soon afterwards the folding-doors were hastily opened, and a servant
announced M. Lebel, _premier de sa Majesté_, with M. Morand. The comte
went to meet the arrivals, and as I now saw Lebel for the first time, he
presented him to me formally.
“Sister, this is M. Lebel, _premier de sa Majesté _, who has done us the
honor to come and dine with us.”
“And he confers a real pleasure on us,” said I, looking smilingly on M.
Lebel. My look had its effect, for Lebel remained mute and motionless
from admiration at my person. At length he stammered out a few
incoherent words, which I imagined to be compliments. The comte watched
Lebel anxiously, and Morand began to rub his hands, saying:
“Well, sir, what think you of our celestial beauty?”
“She is worthy of a throne,” replied Lebel, bending his head before
me, and taking my hand, which he pressed respectfully to his lips. This
reply was, perhaps, inadvertently made, but I took it as a good augury.
“Yes,” added Lebel, “you are the most lovely creature I ever met, though
no one is more in the habit of seeing handsome females than myself.”
“And of causing them to be seen by others,” replied comte Jean.
This was an opening which was not followed up by Lebel. His first
enthusiasm having passed, he measured me from head to foot, as if he
would take an accurate description of my person.
For my part I began to support the looks of Lebel with more assurance.
He was a man of no particular “mark or likelihood,” but had made
his way. Living at Versailles had given him a certain air of easy
impertinence, but you could not discover anything distinguished in his
manners, nothing which concealed his humble extraction. The direction
of the _Parc aux Cerfs_ gave him much influence with the king, who found
the convenience of such a man, who was willing to take upon himself all
the disagreeable part of his clandestine amours. His duties placed
him in contact with the ministers, the lieutenant of police, and the
comptroller-general. The highest nobility sought his friendship with
avidity. They all had a wife, a sister, a daughter, whom they wished to
make the favorite sultana; and for this it was necessary to get the ear
of Lebel. Thus, under a libertine prince, the destinies of France were
at the mercy of a _valet de chambre_.
I should tell you, however, that I never had occasion but to speak well
of him, and that I have the utmost gratitude for all he did for me. The
attachment he testified on our first meeting has never been altered. He
gave me his protection as far as it was necessary for me, and when the
favor of the king had accorded to me a station, whence all the court
sought to hurl me, Lebel seconded me with all his power in my efforts
to preserve it. I will say, that it is to his vigilance that I owe the
overthrow of more than one conspiracy against me. He was a warm and
sincere friend, and not at all interested in the services he rendered.
He did a great deal of good, as well as harm, in private. I know poor
families whom he has assisted with his own purse, when he could obtain
nothing for them from the king, for Louis was only prodigal in his
pleasures.
However, we dined, and Lebel praised me incessantly to the very skies,
and that with so much warmth, that I was fearful at one time he would
fall in love with me himself, and would not resign me to another. Thank
heaven, Lebel was a faithful servant.
After dinner, when we left the table, Lebel paid me some compliments;
then pulling out his watch, he spoke of an appointment at the Marais,
and left without saying a word of seeing us again.
At this abrupt departure, comte Jean and I looked at each other with
astonishment. As for Morand, he was overjoyed.
“Well, comtesse,” said he, “behold the number of your slaves increased
by an illustrious adorer. You have made a conquest of M. Lebel, and I am
certain he has gone away deeply smitten.”
“I hope we shall see him again,” said comte Jean.
“Do you doubt it?”
“Assure him,” said I, “of the pleasure it will afford us to receive him
as he merits.”
Several persons entered, and M. Morand, profiting by the bustle which
their entrance occasioned, approached me, and said, in a low tone,
“You are in possession of his heart, will you charge me with any message
to him?”
“M. Morand,” was my reply, “what are you thinking of? A woman of my rank
throw herself at any person’s head?”
“No, certainly not; but you can send him a kind word, or some
affectionate token.”
“I could not think of it; M. Lebel appeared to me a most agreeable man,
and I shall be at all times delighted to see him.”
Morand asked nothing more than this, and there our conversation ended.
Two days elapsed without being marked by any event. Comte Jean had
spent them with much anxiety. He was absent, when, on the third morning,
Henriette came hastily into my room. “Madame,” she said, “the _valet de
chambre_ of the king is in the drawing-room, and inquires if you will
receive him.”
At this news I was surprised and vexed. M. Lebel took me unawares; my
toilette was not begun. I gave a hasty glance at my mirror, “Let M.
Lebel come in”; and M. Lebel, who was on the heels of my maid, entered
instantly. After having saluted me, he said,
“It is only you, Madame, whom one might thus surprise. Your beauty needs
no ornament, your charms are decoration sufficient.”
I replied to this compliment with (of course) much modesty, according
to custom. We entered into conversation, and I found that Lebel
really thought me the sister-in-law of comte Jean; and I remarked the
involuntary respect that attended even his familiarity. I left him in
his error, which was material to my interests. He talked to me some time
of my attractions, of the part which a female like myself might assume
in France. But fearing to compromise myself, I made no reply, but
preserved the reserve which my character imposed upon me. I am not
clever, my friend, I never could conduct an intrigue: I feared to speak
or do wrong; and whilst I kept a tranquil appearance, I was internally
agitated at the absence of comte Jean.
Fortune sent him to me. He was passing the street, when he saw at our
door a carriage with the royal livery. Lebel always used it when his
affairs did not demand a positive incognito. This equipage made him
suspect a visit from Lebel, and he came in opportunely to extricate me
from my embarrassment.
“Sir,” said Lebel to him, when he entered, “here is the lady whose
extreme modesty refuses to listen to what I dare not thus explain to
her.”
“Is it anything I may hear for her?” said the comte, with a smiling air.
“Yes, I am the ambassador of a mighty power: you are the minister
plenipotentiary of the lady, and with your leave, we will go into your
private room to discuss the articles of the secret treaty which I have
been charged to propose to you. What says madame?”
“I consent to anything that may come from such an ambassador.”
Comte Jean instantly led him into another room, and when they were
alone, Lebel said to him, “Do you know that your sister-in-law is a most
fascinating creature? She has occupied my thoughts since I have known
her, and in my enthusiasm I could not help speaking of her in a certain
quarter. So highly have I eulogized her, that his majesty desires an
interview with her, that he may judge with his own eyes if I am an
appreciator of beauty.”
At these words comte Jean felt a momentary agitation, but soon
recovering himself, he replied:
“I am exceedingly obliged to you, sir, for the favorable disposition
you have evinced towards the comtesse du Barry. She and I have as much
respect as love for his majesty; but my sister-in-law has not been
presented, and, consequently, I can scarcely see how she can be allowed
to pay her respects to his majesty.”
“Do not let that disturb you; it is not intended that she shall go
and partake of the magnificence of Versailles, but be admitted to
an intimacy much more flattering. Would you refuse to grant him that
pleasure?”
“It would be a crime of _lèse-majesté _,” said the comte Jean, laughing,
“and my family have too much respect for their monarch. We should not be
content with a fugitive favor.”
“You may expect everything from the charms of the comtesse; I am
certain they will have the utmost success; but for me, I can give you no
guarantee. You must run the chance.”
“Your protection, however, is the only thing which encourages my
sister-in-law in this affair. But tell me when is this meeting to take
place?”
“Instantly. The king is impatient to see the comtesse and I have
promised that she will sup with him to-morrow evening in my apartment at
Versailles.”
“How is she to be introduced to the king?”
“I am to entertain four of my friends.”
“Who are they?”
“‘First, the baron de Gonesse.”
“Who is he?”
“The king himself.”
“Well, who next?”
“The duc de Richelieu.”
“Who else?”
“The marquis de Chauvelin.”
“Well?”
“The duc de la Vauguyon.”
“What, the devotee?”
“The hypocrite. But never mind: the main point is, that you must not
appear to recognize the king. Instruct your sister-in-law to this
effect.”
“Certainly; if she must sin, she had better do so with some reason.”
While these gentlemen were thus disposing of me, what was I doing?
Alone, in my room, I waited the result of their conference with mortal
impatience. The character I had to play was a superb one, and at the
moment was about to enter on the stage, I felt all the difficulties
of my part. I feared I should not succeed, but fail amid the insulting
hisses of the Versailles party.
My fears at once disappeared, and then I pictured myself sitting on
a throne, magnificently attired; my imagination wandered in all the
enchantments of greatness;--then, as if from remorse, I recalled my past
life. The former lover of Nicholas blushed before the future mistress of
Louis XV. A thousand different reflections crowded upon me, and mingled
in my brain. If to live is to think, I lived a whole age in one quarter
of an hour. At length I heard some doors open, a carriage rolled away,
and comte Jean entered my chamber.
“Victory!” cried he, embracing me with transport. “Victory! my dear
Jeanne, to-morrow you sup with the king.”
On this information I turned pale, my strength forsook me, and I was
compelled to sit down, or rather to fall into a chair; for, according
to Jean Jacques Rousseau, my legs shook under me (_flageolaient_). This,
however, was the only movement of weakness which I betrayed. When I
recovered a little, the comte Jean told me the conversation he had had
with Lebel. I joked about the title of baron de Gonesse, and I promised
to treat the king as if ignorant of his incognito. One thing only made
me uneasy, and that was supping with the duc de Richelieu, who had
seen me before at madame de Lagarde’s; but the idea that he would not
remember me gave me renewed courage.
On so important an occasion, comte Jean did not forget to repeat his
instructions over again. These are nearly his words, for I think I
learnt them by heart.
“Remember that it is on your first interview that your safety depends.
Let him learn, through you, those utter tendernesses which have been
sought for him in vain heretofore. He is like the monarch of old, who
was willing to pay the half of his crown for an unknown pleasure. Lebel
is wearied in seeking every week for new fruit. He is quite disposed
to serve you, and will second you in the best manner. You are about
to become the centre of attraction to all courtiers, and noble
_courtisanes_. You must expect that they will endeavor to cry you down,
because you will have carried off from them a gem to which every family
has its pretensions. You must at first stand firmly before the storm,
but afterward you will find all enlist themselves under your banner, who
have no wife, sister, nor daughter; that is, all who have no mistress to
offer to the king. You must attach these to you by place and favor: they
must be first thought of, and then you must think of yourself and me, my
dear girl.”
“All this is well enough,” I replied, “but as yet I am nothing.”
“_Morbleu_! to-morrow you will be everything,” cried comte Jean, with
his determined energy. “But we must think about this morrow. Make haste,
noble comtesse; go to all the milliners, seek what is elegant rather
than what is rich. Be as lovely, pleasing, and gay as possible; this is
the main point, and God will do all the rest.”
He pronounced this blasphemy in a laughing tone, and I confess I could
not help joining in the laugh, and then hastened to comply with his
directions.