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
Have you any curiosity to learn the dénouement of the story I was
telling you of my anonymous correspondent? Read what follows, then, and
your wishes shall be gratified: that is, if you have patience to hear a
rather long story; for I cannot promise you that mine will very speedily
be completed. Let me see: where did I leave off? Oh, I recollect.
I was telling you that madame de Mirepoix urged me to repair, as I was
requested, to the Baths of Apollo. I had a key which opened all the park
gates; we entered the park, took the path which turns off to the left,
and after having walked for about five minutes, found ourselves opposite
the person we were in search of. It was a female of from thirty to forty
years of age, of diminutive stature, dressed after the fashion of the
_bourgeoises_ of the day, but still an air of good taste was evident
through the simplicity of her attire. Her countenance must once have
been handsome, if one might judge by the beauty of her eyes and mouth,
but she was pale, withered and already impressed with the traces of a
premature old age. But her beauties, although faded, were still animated
by a quick and ever-varying expression of a keen and lively wit.
Whilst I made these hasty remarks the stranger saluted me, and
afterwards the maréchale de Mirepoix, with a ease of manner which
perfectly surprised me. Nor did she in any other instance betray the
embarrassment of a person who finds herself for the first time in the
presence of persons of a rank superior to her own.
“Madam,” she said, addressing herself to me, “I trust you will pardon me
for having given you the trouble of coming hither; I might have spared
it you, had your people permitted me to see you when I called at your
house yesterday.”
“Your invitation,” replied I, “was so pressingly enforced, that I
confess my curiosity has been most keenly awakened.”
“I will immediately satisfy it,” answered she, “but what I have to say
must be told to yourself alone.”
“Well, then,” said the maréchale, “I will leave you for the present:
I am going to admire that fine group of Girardon”; and so saying, she
quitted the walk in which I was standing.
Directly she was gone the stranger said to me, “Madam, I will explain
myself without reserve or unnecessary prolixity; I beseech of you to
listen attentively whilst I tell you, in the first place, that both your
life and that of the king is in imminent danger.”
“Heavens!” cried I, “what do I hear?”
“That which I well know to be true,” answered the female, with a firm
voice; “I repeat that your life and that of the king is in danger.”
These words, pronounced in a low, solemn voice, froze me with terror; my
limbs tottered under me, and I almost sank to the ground. The stranger
assisted me to a bench, offered me her arm, and when she saw me a little
recovered, she continued,
“Yes, madam, a conspiracy is afoot against yourself and Louis XV. You
are to be made away with out of revenge, and Louis XV is to suffer,
in the hopes of his death effecting a change in the present face of
affairs.”
“And who,” inquired I, “are the conspirators?”
“The Jesuits and parliamentarians; these ancient rivals, equally
persecuted by the royal government, have determined to make common
cause against their mutual foe. The Jesuits flatter themselves that the
dauphin inherits the kind feelings entertained by his father for
their order, and the parliamentarians justly reckon upon the friendly
disposition of the young prince towards the old magistracy. Both parties
equally flatter themselves that a fresh reign would bring about their
re-establishment, and they are impatient to accelerate so desirable an
event: the conspiracy is directed by four Jesuits and the same number
of the ex-members of the parliament of Paris. The remainder of the two
corporations are not initiated in the secret of the enterprise. I am
not able at present to give you the names of the eight conspirators, the
person from whom I derive my information not having as yet confided them
even to myself, but I trust ere long to obtain such a mark of confidence.”
The female ceased speaking, and I remained in a state of doubt, fear,
and alarm, impossible to describe. Still one thing appeared clear to me,
that information so mysteriously conveyed was not deserving of belief,
unless supported by more corroborating testimony. My unknown friend
evidently divined all that was passing in my mind, for she observed,
“I perceive that my recital appears to you improbable; one particular
which I will state may perhaps overcome your incredulity. Are you not
in the habit, madam, of taking every evening _eau sucrée_ mixed with a
large proportion of orange-flower water?”
“I am,” replied I.
“This day,” continued my informant, “you will receive four bottles of
orange-flower water contained in a box bearing the usual appearances of
having come from the perfumers’, but it is sent by other hands, and the
liquor contained in the flasks is mingled with a deadly poison.”
These last words made me tremble. “You must complete your kind offices,”
cried I to my visitor, “by bringing me acquainted with the person
from whom you have derived your intelligence: that individual must be
acquainted with the whole of the plot; and, believe me, I will not be
unmindful of either of you.”
“Stay one instant,” replied the lady, without evincing the slightest
emotion; “the man who was my informant is assuredly aware of the names
of those concerned in the conspiracy, but he has charged me not to state
who he is but upon certain conditions; a recommendation I shall most
certainly attend to.”
“Be assured,” interrupted I, “that your demands shall be acceded to;
you shall yourself fix the price of your entire disclosure of every fact
connected with the business.”
“It will not be an exorbitant one,” replied the lady; “merely 600,000
francs, to be equally divided between the friend you desire to know and
myself; for this sum, which is not a very large one, you may command the
services of both of us. One word more, madam, and I am gone. Observe
a strict silence upon all I have told you; or, if you must have a
counsellor in such perilous circumstances, confide merely in some tried
friend; say the duc d’Aiguillon or the chancellor, or both should
you deem it necessary; but have a care how you admit a third to a
participation of the affair; you could scarcely select another person
without choosing one already corrupted by your enemies. It is said that
they are in correspondence with even those persons immediately about the
person of the king. Adieu, madam; I will see you at your own apartments
the day after to-morrow, when I trust you will have ready 100,000
francs, on account of the 600,000 I have stipulated for.”
So saying, she curtsied and left me, overcome with surprise. A thousand
fearful ideas pressed upon my brain, and my heart sickened at the long
train of gloomy images which presented themselves. I had had sufficient
proofs since my elevation of the deadly hatred borne me by those whom
my good fortune had rendered my enemies: yet, hitherto, my strongest
apprehensions had never been directed to anything more terrible than
being supplanted in the favor of the king, or being confined in
my château du Lucienne. The horrible ideas of murder, poison, or
assassination by any means, had never presented themselves to me. All
at once I recollected the young man in the garden of the Tuileries; his
predictions of my future greatness had been accomplished. He had also
announced to me fearful vicissitudes, and had threatened to appear to me
when these catastrophes were about to occur. Doubtless he would keep his
word; now was the time for so doing, and I timidly glanced around as I
caught the sound of a slight rustle among the branches, fully expecting
to see my young prophet; but the figure which met my eye was that of
madame de Mirepoix, who, tired of waiting, had come to rejoin me.
“What!” said she, “are you alone? I did not observe your visitor leave
you. Did she vanish into air?”
“Very possibly,” answered I.
“So then,” replied the maréchale, “she proved a fairy, or some
beneficent _génie_, after all?”
“If she were a spirit,” said I, “it certainly was not to the better sort
she belonged.”
“Have a care,” cried the maréchale; “I have already formed a thousand
conjectures as to what this woman has been telling.”
“And all your suppositions,” replied I, “would fall short of the
reality. Listen, my dear maréchale,” added I, rising, and taking her arm
to proceed homewards, “I have been strictly prohibited from admitting
any counsellor but the duc d’Aiguillon and the chancellor; still I can
have no reserves with you, who I know, f rom the regard you bear both to
the king and myself, will advise me to the best of your power.”
As we walked towards the château, I explained to my companion the joint
conspiracy of the Jesuits and ancient members of the parliament against
the king’s life and my own. When I had ceased speaking, she replied,
“All this is very possible; despair may conduct the Jesuits and
parliamentarians to the greatest extremities; but still this mysterious
female may be nothing more than an impostor. At any rate, I am anxious
to learn whether the box she described has been left at your house; if
so, it will be a strong corroboration, if not, a convincing proof of the
falsehood of what she asserts.”
We had by this time reached the bottom of the staircase which conducted
to my apartments; we ascended the stairs rapidly, and the first person I
met in the anteroom was Henriette.
“Henriette,” said I, “has any thing been brought for me during my
absence?”
“Nothing except a box of orange-flower water from Michel the perfumer’s,
which I presume you ordered, madam.”
A glance of mutual surprise and consternation passed between the
maréchale and myself. We entered my chamber, where madame de Mirepoix
opened the fatal box; it contained the four bottles exactly as had been
described. We regarded each other in profound silence, not daring to
communicate our reflections. However, it was requisite to take some
steps, and, catching up a pen, I hastily wrote the following billet to
the duc d’Aiguillon,
“MONSIEUR LE DUC,--Whatever may be the affairs with which you are at
present occupied, I pray of you to throw them aside, and hasten to me
instantly upon receipt of this. Nothing can equal in importance the
subject upon which I wish to see you; I cannot now explain myself fully,
but prepare for news of the most horrible description, and it refers to
the safety and preservation of the most valuable life in the kingdom. I
cannot delay time by writing more; I can only beseech of you not to lose
one moment in obeying this summons. Adieu; fail not to come and bring me
back this note.”
The duke hastened to me full of terror and alarm.
“Your letter has really frightened me,” said he; “what can be the
matter? Surely the life of his majesty is not in danger?”
“Too truly is it,” answered I; “but sit down, and you shall know all
the affair. The maréchale is already aware of the matter and need not
withdraw.”
The duke listened with extreme attention to the recital of my interview
in the grove surrounding the Baths of Apollo, as well as to the account
of the discourse I had held there with the strange female. I endeavoured
to relate the conversation as minutely and accurately as possible, but
still the duke sought further particulars. He inquired the style
of countenance, dress, manner, and tone of voice possessed by the
_incognita_. One might have supposed, by the closeness of his questions,
that he already fancied he had identified this mysterious personage: he
then examined the box, which stood on the table, and remarked, “This is
a very serious affair, nor can I undertake the management of it alone;
it involves a too great responsibility. Spite of the lady’s assertions,
I am confident the fullest confidence might be placed in all the
ministers. However, I will first have a conference with M. de
Saint-Florentin and the chancellor, in whose presence I will send for
the lieutenant of police; and the contents of these bottles shall be
immediately analyzed.”
The duke, without quitting me, wrote immediately to his two colleagues
as well as to M. de Sartines, requesting this latter to repair to my
apartment without delay. One of the ministers summoned by M. d’Aiguillon
was not at that moment at Versailles, having left at an early hour in
the morning for Paris. Neither he nor M. de Sartines could possibly be
with us before eight o’clock in the evening; it was therefore agreed to
adjourn our conference till their arrival. Meanwhile M. d’Aiguillon, the
maréchale, and myself, remained in a state of the most cruel anxiety.
The duke first blamed me for not having caused the woman to be arrested,
and afterwards he confessed to the maréchale, that perhaps it was better
the conspiracy should be allowed time to ripen into maturity. Daring
this time the liquid contained in the four bottles was being decomposed:
M. Quesnay, first physician, Messrs. Thiebault and Varennes, visiting
physicians, M. de la Martinière, counsellor of state, surgeon to
his majesty, as well as Messrs. Ducor and Prost, apothecaries to
his majesty, had been collected together for this purpose by the duc
d’Aiguillon.
These gentlemen came to report the termination of their experiments at
the very moment when the chancellor and lieutenant of police entered the
room; the duc de la Vrillière had preceded them by about five minutes;
the duc d’Aiguillon requested these gentlemen to be seated. The doctors
Quesnay and la Martinière were introduced, and desired to make known
the result of their operations. My newly-arrived guests, who as yet
understood nothing of what was going on, were struck with astonishment
at hearing it said, that the four bottles of orange-flower water
contained a considerable proportion of a most active poison, of which a
few drops would be sufficient to cause instantaneous death. Having thus
executed their commission, the medical gentlemen bowed and retired.
M. d’Aiguillon then explained to my wondering friends the horrible
affair which had occasioned their being sent for so hastily. I cannot
tell you what effect this disclosure produced on M. de la Vrillière or
M. de Maupeou, my whole attention being fixed upon M. de Sartines. You
may suppose that a lieutenant of police, particularly one who piqued
himself upon knowing every thing, could not feel very much at his ease,
when each word that was uttered convicted him either of incapacity or
negligence. His brow became contracted, he hemmed, choked, fidgeted
about, and appeared as though he would have given every thing in the
world f or liberty to justify himself, but etiquette forbade it, and he
was only permitted to speak after the secretaries of state then present,
or if called upon by either of them.
When M. d’Aiguillon had ceased speaking, the chancellor in his turn took
up the conversation. M. de Maupeou was by nature cold and sarcastic,
delighting in annoying any person; but, on the present occasion, the
ill-nature inherent in him was still excited by the decided hatred he
bore to the unfortunate M. de Sartines. He began by saying, that
the conspiracy was evident, and was easily explained by the state of
exasperation in which the Jesuits and parliamentarians now were; both
orders looking for no other prospect of amendment in their condition
than such as might arise from some sudden convulsion of the kingdom. He
expressed his opinion of the necessity of instituting a rigorous
inquiry into the conduct of these two bodies; and then, turning to M. de
Sartines, whose cheek grew pale at the movement, he charged him to
lay before the council all those particulars which he must necessarily
possess as head of the police, either respecting the present plot, or
relating to any of the ancient members of parliament or the order of
Jesuits.
This was a dagger to the heart of M. de Sartines, who in vain sought
to frame a suitable reply: but what could he say? He did not in reality
possess any of the information for which he had received credit, and
after many awkward endeavours at explaining himself, he was compelled
frankly to confess, that he knew not a word more of the conspiracy than
he had just then heard.
It was now the turn of M. de la Vrillière to speak. He also would fain
have attacked the unfortunate lieutenant of police; but, whether M. de
Maupeou thought that his own correction had been sufficiently strong,
or whether he begrudged any other person interfering with his vengeance
upon his personal foe, he abruptly interrupted the tirade of M. de
la Vrillière, by observing, that a conspiracy conducted by only eight
persons might very possibly escape the eye of the police; but, furnished
as it now was with so many circumstances and particulars, it was
impossible that the plot should any longer defy their vigilant
researches.
M. d’Aiguillon fully concurred in this observation, and M. de Sartines,
recovered in some measure from his first alarm, promised every thing
they could desire; and it was finally arranged that the police should
this night use every precautionary measure in Paris, and that the
officers of the guard should receive orders to redouble their zeal
and activity in watching the château; and that when the unknown female
called again on me, she should be conducted by madame de Mirepoix to the
duc d’Aiguillon, who would interrogate her closely.
These measures decided on, the council broke up, and I went to receive
the king, who was this evening to do me the favour of taking his supper
in my apartments.