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 Ponts--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_
The account received in the evening from the duc d’Aiguillon I shall
not transcribe, as it was merely a repetition of the good tidings of
the morning. The day following still brought a continuation of favorable
accounts, but the next letter was in these words:--
“MADAM, AND MOST HONORED FRIEND,--Arm yourself with courage; the king
is extremely ill, and I ought not to conceal from you that serious
apprehensions are entertained for his life; he has passed a wretched
night, His daughters, who never quitted his bedside, whispered to him
that the archbishop of Paris and his grand almoner were in the anteroom
if he desired to see them. The king did not seem to hear their words,
but about three o’clock in the morning he called the duc de Duras, whom
he bade inquire whether M. Mandoux were in the château; and, if so, to
apprize him he wished to speak with him.
“At these words the princesses and all who heard them burst into a fit
of weeping, which was only interrupted by the arrival of the confessor,
who, approaching the bedside of the penitent, held a conference with him
of nearly a quarter of an hour: this being concluded, the king, in a
low and firm voice, inquired for his almoner. The latter soon presented
himself, anxious to discharge the duties of his sacred office. His
majesty kept continually repeating to his afflicted children, ‘My
daughters, why should what I am now about to do agitate or alarm you?
You are well aware, that having the small-pox, the etiquette established
in my family compels me to receive the last solemn rites of the church,
and I but acquit myself of an obligation in submitting to it.’
“The tone in which the king spoke convinced his attendants that he
rather strove to re-assure himself than his children, by the persuasion
that the receiving extreme unction was not so much the consequence of
his own dangerous state as a mere act of obedience to an established
custom. It was then decided that the sacred ceremony should take place
at seven o’clock in the morning; and here arose some little
embarrassment; the ecclesiastics insisting upon the necessity of the
king’s making some striking and open atonement for what they were
pleased to term the scandal of his private life.
“The king’s chamber now presented a picture at once solemn and gloomy.
Grouped together on one side the bed might be seen the different
noblemen in attendance upon his majesty; a little removed stood the
clergy, concealed from the invalid by the closely-drawn curtains; in the
midst of these contending parties were the princesses going from one
to the other, vainly seeking by mild and gentle mediation to produce a
satisfactory arrangement. It was at length understood, that, on account
of the extreme weakness of the invalid, the grand almoner should
pronounce in his name a kind of honorable apology for past offences.
“You can scarcely imagine, madam, the universal consternation spread
throughout the château by the information that the king was about
to receive the last rites of his church. The terror and alarm became
overpowering for a while, but subsiding into a more religious feeling
crowds of persons followed with solemn reverence the holy procession as
it passed along, bearing the holy sacrament to the expiring monarch. At
the moment when it was administered the grand almoner, turning towards
all present, pronounced the following words in the king’s name:--
“‘Gentlemen, the weakness of his majesty preventing him from expressing
himself, he has commanded me to inform you, that although he is
responsible to God alone for his conduct, he yet regrets having caused
any scandal to his people by the irregularities of his life, that he
sincerely repents of his sins, and, should Providence restore him t
purposes living henceforward in all the virtue and morality of his
youth, in the defence and maintenance of religion, in preserving a true
faith, and in watching over the best interests of his people.’
“Yours, madam, etc., etc.”
I learned also, through another channel, that (according to custom)
forty hours’ prayer had been enjoined in every church in France to
implore the mercy of heaven for the king. I heard too that the shrine of
Saint Geneviève had been displayed for the veneration of true believers.
I passed a miserable night, dreaming of graves, winding-sheets, and
funeral-torches, from which I only awoke to receive the morning’s
despatches. Alas! the news but confirmed the distressing state of the
king. The very solitude in which I was left at Ruel might alone have
served to convince me of my misfortune; for, with the exception of the
duc de Cossé, no person came near us. M. de Cossé invited me to walk
with him in the garden; I accepted the arm of this noble friend, and
we directed our steps towards the wood. When we were there secure from
interruption, the duke inquired what were my plans for the future?
“How can I tell you,” answered I; “what is henceforward to be my fate is
better known to our future queen than to myself.”
“That is precisely what I dread,” replied M. de Cossé. “Unfortunately
you have deeply offended the queen elect, who has irritated her
husband’s mind against you; and then the Choiseul faction will, in all
probability, come into power.”
“I see all this,” returned I, “and am prepared for whatever may happen.”
“I admire your calmness in a moment like the present,” cried the duke;
“but have a care. Perhaps the best thing would be to remove you beyond
the reach of the first shock of court displeasure. In your place I would
request passports from the duc d’Aiguillon and travel into England.”
“Oh, speak not of such a thing, I conjure you,” interrupted I; “I have
a horror of such journeys, and would much rather trust to the generosity
of the dauphiness. She is about to become a great queen, while I shall
be a creature so humiliated and abased, that the very difference between
our situations will be a sufficient vengeance in her eyes.”
We returned to the house, and had scarcely entered, when M. de
Palchelbel, plenipotentiary to the prince des Deux Ponts, was announced.
“M. de Palchelbel,” cried I, extending my hand, “what good wind brings
you here?”
“I have been honoured by the commands of the prince, my master, madam,”
replied he, “to bring you the assurances of his unalterable friendship;
and to say further, that whenever you feel dissatisfied with your
residence in France, you will find at Deux Ponts an asylum, which the
most earnest endeavors of the prince, my gracious patron, will strive to
render agreeable to you.”
I was much affected by this mark of generous regard on the part of
prince Charles Auguste; and, turning quickly towards the duke, I
exclaimed,
“What think you of all this? Will you henceforward believe those
self-dubbed philosophers, who assert that friendship is unknown to
royalty? You have here a proof of the contrary. For my own part, M.
de Palchelbel,” continued I, turning towards the minister, “I am
much gratified by your message, and entreat of you to thank his royal
highness most sincerely for me. I will write to him myself on the
subject, but beg of you to repeat that, kind as are his offers, I cannot
accept of them; but shall certainly remain in France until the new
sovereign commands or permits me to quit it.”
I afterwards repeated to the minister of Deux Ponts what I had
previously stated in the garden to M. de Cossé, and had the satisfaction
of hearing madam d’Aiguillon approve of my sentiments.
When I retired to my apartment I was followed by my niece.
“How happy are you, dear aunt,” said she, “to preserve such friends in
your present troubles.”
“I owe them,” replied I, “to my simplicity and candor.”
“Will you not retire to Germany?”
“Certainly not,” answered I.
“Yet it would be better to allow the first burst of displeasure on the
part of the dauphiness to pass over.”
“Who gave you this counsel, my dear niece? I am quite sure it does not
originate in yourself.”
“I had promised not to tell,” answered she; “but if you insist upon it,
I must confess, that I was persuaded by the prince de Condé and M. de
Soubise to urge you to follow it.”
“Do they then wish for my absence?” inquired I, angrily.
“Only for your own sake, dearest aunt.”
“I thank them; but my resolution is formed to commit myself entirely to
Providence in this melancholy affair.”
The day passed on; and with feverish impatience I waited the arrival of
the next courier: he came, at length, and confirmed my worst fears; the
king was entirely given over by his physicians, and his dissolution was
hourly expected. The letter containing this mournful tidings concluded
thus:--
“I have just seen comte Jean, he is here incognito. We had entirely
forgotten that passports would be necessary; however, I have now
furnished him with four for England, Germany, Italy, and Switzerland.
The count is far from partaking of your sense of security, and is wisely
anxious (as I think) of shielding himself from the first burst of royal
vengeance. The duchess has informed me of your refusal of an asylum at
Deux Ponts; and, while I admire your courage, permit me to add, that you
should rather have listened to the dictates of prudence than magnanimity
under present circumstances.”
The following morning, at an early hour, comte Jean entered my chamber,
saying,
“I understand the king is dead; have you heard anything of it?”
“Were the report correct,” answered I, “I should have known it ere the
intelligence reached Paris.”
“Well, living or dead, I am advised to keep out of the way; and this
night will see me on my journey from Paris. Will you accompany me?”
“No,” I replied I; “I have refused travelling with a much more creditable
companion than yourself.”
“There you are wrong then; for, depend upon it, a cloister will be your
fate; at any rate my business here is at an end. The new monarch is
young, and attached to his wife, and my daughter-in-law is too great a
simpleton to be turned to any account at court.”
My brother-in-law then requested I would furnish him with money. I gave
him what I had, and placed in his hands diamonds to the value of 30,000
francs. He was very anxious to obtain all my jewels, under pretence of
conveying them safely out of the kingdom, but this I was too wise to
agree to; he would have staked them at the first gaming-table he met
with. We separated without much emotion on either side. He next took
leave of Chon and his daughter-in-law. The former wept bitterly, for she
was a most excellent and amiable girl--but the latter, who knew but too
much of the villainy of her father-in-law, could scarcely repress her
joy at his departure. Comte Jean perceived it; and, according to his
brutal custom, indulged in a coarse jest at her expense; for one of his
maxims was to hold all women in sovereign contempt but such as could
be useful to him. For my own part, his absence gave me something like
pleasure; his presence was wearisome to me; it was like the dregs of the
cup which had intoxicated my senses.
During the day several false reports arrived of the death of the king;
but at length, about half past four o’clock in the afternoon, I received
the following letter:--
“MADAM,-You have lost your best friend and I an excellent master: at
three clock this day his majesty breathed his last. I can scarcely
describe to you the horrors of his death-bed. The princesses Adélaïde
and Sophie braved the frightful contagion to the last and never
quitted him till the last spark had flown. Alas! with the exception
of themselves, every attendant openly expressed their weariness and
disgust.
“For several days the physicians have forbidden the windows to be
opened; and those condemned to inhale the pestilential vapor of the room
vainly sought to counteract them by every powerful fumigation. Alas,
madam, what is a king when he can no longer grasp the sceptre? How great
a leveller is death! The prelates abandoned the sick chamber, and left a
simple curé of the chapel to take their place; the lords in waiting and
other officers shrunk from the duties of their office, and with their
eyes fixed on a time-piece eagerly awaited the hour which should free
them from it. The princesses, who perceived this impatience,
durst make no complaint, while the king, occasionally recovering his
senses, uttered broken sentences, expressive of the religious terror
which had seized his mind. At length, at a few minutes past three
o’clock, Lemonnier, in his capacity of first physician, said, after
laying his hand upon the heart of the patient, and placing a glass
before his lips, ‘The king is dead.’ At these words all present strove
with indecent haste to quit the chamber; not a single sigh, not one
regret was heard. The princesses were carried insensible to their
apartments.
“The extinction of a _bougie_ which had been placed in a certain window,
announced the accession of the dauphin ere the duc d’Aumont had informed
him of the decease of his august grandsire.”
This letter wrung from me some bitter tears, as well for the king, who
had so lavishly bestowed his affections upon me, as for myself. What
would now be my fate? Alas! I knew not; all my brilliant prospects were
buried in the coffin of my late protector.
The duc d’Aiguillon arrived at Ruel about midnight; he, as well as the
other ministers who had been about the late monarch during his last
illness, being prohibited by etiquette from following the present
monarch to Choisy, whither the whole of the royal family had retired
for a few days. He told us that the duc d’Aumont, having commanded
La Martinière to proceed with the embalming of the royal corpse, that
physician replied, “Certainly, my lord, it shall be done if you command
it, but, in that case, the duties of your office compel you to receive
his majesty’s bowels in a golden dish; and I protest, that such is the
state of the body, that of all who may assist at the operation, not one
will survive eight days. It is for your grace to determine what shall be
done.”
M. d’Aumont thought no more of embalming his late master, but gave
orders for the body being immediately placed in a leaden coffin, from
which here still issued frightful effluvia.
Up to the moment of my quitting Ruel madame de Mirepoix gave me no token
of recollection: I heard that herself and the prince de Beauvau were
reconciled, and for her sake I rejoiced at it. No person came near us
the whole of the day with the exception of M. de Cossé, and I sat in
hourly expectation of some order from court. At length we descried a
travelling carriage with six horses, proceeding at a rapid pace up
the avenue. “I know that livery,” exclaimed I; “‘tis that of my
humble adorer, my obsequious slave, my friend at court, the duc de la
Vrillière, commonly called _le petit saint_. You see that the good soul
could not delegate to another the pleasing task of arresting me; but
permit me to retire to my apartment; it is fitting he should seek me
there if he has any communication to make to me.” The duchess, approved
my resolution; and the duc de la Vrillière having been introduced into
the salon, after the first compliments, requested to see me, that he
might acquaint me with the king’s pleasure.
Mademoiselle du Barry undertook to inform me of the duke’s arrival.
“You were not mistaken, dear sister,” said she; “the duc de la Vrillière
is the bearer of the king’s orders respecting you: but compose yourself,
I beseech you.”
“Fear not,” said I; “I am as calm as you would have me. Tell the vile
dissembler, I mean the duke, I await him.”
M. Tartuffe was but a faint copy of _le petit saint_ as he presented
himself before me. His manners still retained part of their former
servility, but there was a lurking smile about him, which proved how
well he was pleased with the part he had to perform.
He approached me with lingering steps and an air of mysterious
importance, while a sort of sardonic grin contradicted the sorrow he
endeavored to force into his countenance. For my own part, I caused the
folding-doors to be thrown open, and advancing ceremoniously, stood to
receive the orders of the king. I bowed stiffly and silently; and, with
something like a malicious satisfaction, I witnessed the embarrassment
into which my cool and collected manner threw him.
“Madam,” said he at last, “I have a painful duty to perform: in a word,
I am the bearer of a _lettre de cachet_.”
“Well, sir!” said I, tranquilly.
“Madam, I must request you to believe how greatly I regret the task
imposed upon me; but my duty and obedience to the king--”
“Would enable you to strangle your nearest relative. All that is well
known; but, in the name of all that is base, cowardly, and unmanly,
could no one but _you_ be found to remind a distressed and afflicted
woman that she has lost her only friend and support?”
“Madam, I repeat, obedience--necessity--”
“Enough, sir; I pity you.”
“Madam, you outrage the king in my person.”
“No, sir; I respect the king too highly to believe that there could ever
be any relation between him and one who is too contemptible to remind me
that he was but a few days back the most cringing of my servile slaves.”
_Le petit saint_, boiling with rage, with an unsteady hand, unfolded and
read, in a trembling voice, the following words:
“MADAME LA COMTESSE Du Barry,--For reasons, which have for their object
the preservation of the tranquillity of my kingdom, and the prevention
of any state secrets confided to you being promulgated, I send this
order for your immediate removal to _Pont aux Dames_, accompanied by one
female attendant only, and under the escort of the exempt who has the
necessary orders. This measure is by no means intended to be either
disagreeable or of long duration. I therefore pray God to have you in
his holy keeping,
“(Signed) Louis.”
“That, madam,” continued the duke, “is his majesty’s pleasure, and you
have nothing to do but to submit.”
“Your advice was not asked, my lord,” returned I; “I honor and obey the
king’s slightest wish, but your presence is no longer requisite; you
will therefore be pleased to rid me of it.”
The duke, resuming his air of mock humility, bowed low, and departed.
When I was alone, I must confess a few tears escaped me, but I soon
wiped them away; my resolution was taken.
The duchesse d’Aiguillon and my female friends hastened to question
me relative to the duke’s visit. I showed them the _lettre de cachet_,
which confirmed the misfortune they had suspected from seeing Hamond,
who was to be my escort, waiting in the anteroom to conduct me to the
abbey of _Pont aux Dames_, near Meaux, the place of my exile. They all
evinced the utmost sorrow, and both Chon and my niece protested that
with the king’s permission, they would willingly attend me in my
seclusion. I felt grateful for this mark of attachment; then sending
for the exempt, I inquired whether I might be allowed sufficient time
to write a letter, and cause a few necessary preparations to be made?
“Madam,” replied he, “my only orders are to accompany you to _Pont aux
Dames_, the hour of departure is left to yourself.”
I then penned a few hasty lines to the king, indicative of my wishes for
the happiness and prosperity of his reign, of my ready obedience to his
commands, and of my earnest wishes that my sister-in-law and niece
might be permitted to visit me. This letter I was promised should be
punctually delivered. I had now the painful duty to perform of choosing
between Henriette and Geneviève, as only one attendant was allowed me at
_Pont aux Dames_. Henriette pleaded her claim as my servant, while the
excellent Geneviève timidly urged her early friendship.
“Let chance decide it,” cried I. They drew lots, and Geneviève was
selected.
We reached Pont aux Dames in the middle of the night; it was a miserable
looking place, which took its date from the time of Saint Louis or
Charlemagne for ought I know. What a contrast met my eyes between
this ruinous old building, its bare walls, wooden seats, and gloomy
casements, and the splendor of Versailles or Choisy; all my firmness
forsook me, I threw myself weeping into the arms of Geneviève.
A courier-had announced my intended arrival, and I found all the good
sisters impatient to see me. What eager curiosity did the pious nuns
evince to behold one of whom they had heard so much even in their quiet
retreat, and how many questions had I to reply to from those who had
the courage to address me. Alas! I, of all the throng assembled, was the
most anxious for quiet and solitude.
I was lodged in the best apartments, which, however magnificent the good
people of _Pont aux Dames_ might consider them, were not on a par with
the granaries of Lucienne. But complaint was useless, and I could only
resign myself to what was offered me.